EPOV

"Edward Cullen!"

"Cullen!"

"Are we going to see you at the premiere, Edward?"

"Edward, look over here!"

"Any new women in your life, Edward?"

"To the left! Edward, to the left!"

I hold the jacket up and over my face. I can't see shit. My body is shaking like a leaf. I look at the ground. Alice's stilettos. Bright blue shoes on the dark grey concrete. The large black shoes of my bodyguard, Joel. His hand on my back guides me to the entrance of the restaurant.

All LA "high class" restaurants are the same: new wave and pretentious as fuck. But the best thing they have in common is the fantastically tight security. Though paparazzi constantly mill about on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, none are allowed in the premises.

The moment the door shuts I feel my body deflate.

Shaking arms bring my jacket back down to my side. Alice grabs my hand.

"I need to go to the b-bathroom," I say, swallowing the stutter with a glare.

"Edward, come on. Not now."

"I'll only be five m-m-mmm. Fuck. I'll only be five minutes."

She sighs, resigned.

"Fine. I'll meet you at the table."

I walk through the seating area with shoulders hunched and downcast eyes. I hear some exclamations of recognition but I don't look up to meet back exit to the restaurant is just inside the kitchen, a few feet to the left of the bathrooms. Casually, I push my way through the serving door.

"Hey!" a cook calls, but I'm already out the door before he has a chance to catch up.

The back lot is completely empty save for a few forgotten cardboard boxes. I can hear the highway in the distance, the gentle rumble of cars relaxing me further. I lean my back against the cool brick and sigh.

Alice arranged this dinner months ago. Something about an indie movie director, hardly any funding, roll of a lifetime, etc. Meanwhile I can't even think about meeting the director without wanting to throw up.

It's the same every time. A rocky tumble through pleasantries and small talk until they finally give me my roll and I can actually be whoever they need me to be. Then there's no more questions. Then I can relax.

But, of course, there are always the side questions for Alice.

Examples:

"He doesn't stutter through his lines, does he?"

"He's not going to go on a binge in the middle of production, right?"

"I've heard he does drugs with the PAs . . ."

"Will he even take direction?"

Thinking about going through it all again makes me wound up tight, tight, tight. This time here, this awkward in-between time where I have no character, this time where I have to truly be me—it's the worst.

I pull the joint from my pocket, trembling fingers to lips as I struggle just to light it. I slump the moment the smoke hits my lungs. Sweet and spicy and thick and warm. So warm. I'm filled up.

I sink to the pavement and turn my head to the side, eyes closed. Exhale.

The quiet is so dense that I smack my head against the brick when I hear her.

She's just a profile from here; running into my alley on heels an inch too tall. She stumbles and trips, knees falling into a puddle of sewer water.

I watch her. Get up, I think. Get up, get up, get up.

Her hair falls over her face. My blunt is forgotten, burning away to waste.

She cries.

I can hear it.

She curses.

I can hear that, too. I stand.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fucking fuck. Fuck!" Her elbows hit the water. Hair in tangles, skirt wet.

I walk forward, hesitantly. My heart drums in my chest. She falls back on her knees.

Don't get too close. Don't do it.

"Are y-you okay?" I call from a few feet away.

She screams and jumps back, landing on her butt.

"Stay away from me." Her voice is shaking and high-pitched. I realize how I look in this alley.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I just w-w-want to help." I raise my hands up in surrender.

I take a step forward.

She scoots back.

"I don't need help."

Two more steps. I'm at the sidewalk now. I drop to my knees. Her face is shadowed and dark, but the whites of her eyes glint. She's small. So small. I reach my hand out tentatively. She looks at it. Then at my face. Then back at my hand.

She takes it. I exhale sharply and pull us both up.

She looks at me and the only thing I have time to register is how pale pink her lips are before—

"It's Cullen!"

"Edward, wait!" They scream.

"S-s-sssorry," I force out before I turn and bolt.

i'm writing this but no one's reading it oh well oh well oh well :(