Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I only own Keen Kid Number 1.

BELLA

I glanced at my reflection for the fifteen-millionth time in the bathroom of the Coffee House, and sighed.

The shirt was ruined.

Brown stains swirled around my left breast, while my right was splotchy splatters of the chocolate sprinkles that I had been busy putting on top of my mocha before Fish Girl slammed into me.

What was worse, my right arm had a pretty little burn appearing at the bottom of my sleeve where the material hadn't covered my skin.

Worst. Day. Ever.

First, fish girl.

Then, Dumb-Bitch-Number-1 had knocked me over in hallway on my way out of the lecture, sending both me and my books flying, and leaving me to be trodden on by my eager fellow-lecturers.

Enter in Keen-Kid-Number-1 and Fish Girl, together: too absorbed in their own little love-making agenda that they failed to see me walking with what was supposed to be a delicious coffee.

Fuck my life.

The only thing that was perhaps even worse, was when KKN1 tried to apologise by rubbing a napkin across my shirt.

How. Mortifying.

I rifled through my bag for something else that was wearable; only discovering the tiniest of jackets that would not only expose most of my stomach, but also had a broken zipper.

I want to die.

I peeked through the bathroom door before re-entering the Coffee House and making my way towards the door.

'Order for Bella!'Girl-with-the-lip-ring-and-black-and-blue-hair called from behind the counter.

I sighed for the umpteenth time. Now I was being given an order that I hadn't actually ordered at all. I swivelled to make my way to the counter to correct the girl.

'Uh, I'm sorry, but I already ordered mine, and am now wearing most of it.' I gestured to my shirt.

Girl-with-the-lip-ring ignored me, holding out the coffee. 'A guy paid for it. Bronze hair?' She smiled. I couldn't decide whether it was menacing of comforting.

Bronze hair.

Keen Kid Number 1 had bought my coffee.

Shit. Now I had the sympathy vote.

Why couldn't these keen kids just leave me alone?

I grabbed the coffee, stalked out and prayed to god that I wouldn't reek of coffee for the rest of the day.

My phone buzzed, and I glanced at the picture on the screen: Alice.

'"BELLLLLLLLA" she chirped, clearly in a better mood than she had been this morning.

'I am covered in coffee.' No point beating around the bush here.

'Whhaaaatttt?' she squealed. 'Wait. Nevermind. I'll get to that later. 'VEMETTHEMANI'.'

Alice was amazing at two things:

The first: exaggerating.

The second: communicating really, really long sentences without so much as a second to breathe.

Somehow, the above sentence appeared to combine both of these qualities.

'Try again.'

'Basically, Bella, I've sort of met this guy. And he's playing a gig tonight, at the Froggy Bottom Pub? You know the one. We went there a few weeks ago, with the delicious chicken and mayonnaise sandwiches? Anyway, so he's positively adorable but I don't want to seem too eager so I'm going to stalk him out tonight at his gig.'

There was so much wrong with that sentence.

'So, let me get this straight. You want me to help you stalk out a guy that you don't want to appear too eager for?'

'That makes it sound confusing.'

'It makes no sense.'

'Just cooooommmmeeeee. Bella, I need you there for my emotional and physical well-being. It starts at 7.30. Be home. And take your shirt off, right now. You must reek of coffee. I saw the jacket you put in your bag this morning. Wear it.'

'It barely covers my stomach' I tried to argue.

'Take the shirt off, Bella, or I will come in and personally remove it for you.'

She hung up, the bitch.

Despite Alice being the smallest person I'd ever met, she was also easily the scariest.

She also never made idle threats, and I knew that she would find out one way or another.

This didn't leave me much choice. Goddamn that pixie.

I stalked back into the Coffee House bathroom and threw the stained shirt off, replacing it with the barely-there, broken jacket.

Now I looked like a prostitute. Fantastic.

I re-exited the Coffee House for what I hoped would be the final time today, crunching some leaves under my feet as I made my way towards the library.

The autumn wind pulled at the arms of my jacket, revealing my pathetic chest and black bra to any and all occupants of the university quad.

This was so fucking embarrassing.

I regathered the sides of my jacket and held them tightly together in the middle and quickly made my way towards the library, hoping that perhaps I could get some form of study done before my next class in an hour's time.

I pushed open the doors of the library to be greeted with warmth and the smell of old books. I loved this place. I found myself a table in the corner, gathered a few books, and tried to position myself in a way that would reveal as little skin as possible. Which was ridiculously difficult.

I began highlighting the key points of my textbook, with my 'jacket' sliding open every few seconds. I had now successfully shown more of my flesh to the entire library than I had in the past year to anyone.

Movement on my right signalled a bunch of jocks passing through on their way out to training: all making no attempts to hide their fascination with my current choice of clothing. I flipped them the bird.

I heard someone snigger and followed the sound to see a glorious mess of bronze hair. KKN1 was sitting less than 10 metres, raking his hands through a wayward portion of hair and intently studying a book. I narrowed my eyes, recognising the smirk playing on his lips. He was clearly enjoying my discomfort.

It was then that I noticed how sexy he was. It was like Zeus, or Adonis, had been reborn in modern day male form. He threw me a smile that demonstrated that he was well aware of this. A smile that would've had females dropping their panties for miles around.

Fucking panty-dropping smile.

I internally raged. Since when was the enemy meant to be good looking?

He slid further into his seat, without a care in the world, and I realised that he was probably one of the few males that came out of the birth canal, glanced at his reflection in the nearest mirror, and gave the world a high-five.

And he was still smirking at me.

I gathered what little dignity I had left, pulled my jacket tighter, stood, and walked across the stretch between our tables.

'You!' I poked his chest. 'You think this is funny? This is your fucking fault. I am freezing, and embarrassingly half naked and you destroyed my only white shirt.'

He had the grace to look sorry.

'I'm….' he started.

'I don't care what you are. I don't care who you are. But how DARE you sit there and snigger at my discomfort when it was YOU *poke* who *poke* caused *poke* it!'

I strutted back over to my table and shoved my earphones in, glaring in his general direction and feeling slightly satisfied with myself.

His face displayed a mix of shock and amusement, and he held my gaze for far longer than a normal, sorry gentleman should.

I huffed and averted my eyes, but still caught him chuckling attractively in my peripherals.

Attractively?

God, I needed to get laid.

I threw open my notebook and wrote down some gibberish about biology that I hoped I would understand later on, stabbing the pen with aimless purpose at the page.

EDWARD

She was struggling. While her long brown hair hid a lot of her chest, her pathetic jacket was still giving the entire library a delicious view of all her soft curves.

Which meant that I was struggling as well.

My pants somehow managed to tighten even further as I saw her angrily stabbing at her page with a black pen.

Despite the confronting encounter, I couldn't feel even slightly embarrassed for what she was going through. If I got to see this much of her every day, then I would gladly offer my lap to Jessica, and propel her whenever Brown Eyes was around something potentially messy.

There is clearly something wrong with me.

She was adorable when she was angry. While I was sure her continuous poking had done nothing to damage me physically or emotionally, it certainly seemed to satisfy her. The fact that she'd even called me on my perverted watching had been a surprise, since most people only approached me out of respect or to suck up.

As the quarterback of the football team, I was glorified as a uni hero. And while I loved the sport, the endless stream of fake and plastic cheerleaders was getting old.

This made Brown Eyes even more enticing.

Unfortunately for me, however, I'd made a royal jackass out of myself today. Which meant if I wanted her to reconsider me as anything of substance, I would have to figure out how to successfully 'woo' her, or something to that extent. And fast. I continued absentmindedly rifling through my notes, occasionally glancing at Brown Eyes from across the floor. She appeared to be eagerly carving something of importance into her page.

She glimpsed up briefly, scowled at me, and went back to angrily writing, gnawing on her bottom lip.

It was sexy.

And once again I found myself in my original situation: tight pants.

I slithered further under the table to ensure that my situation wasn't visible to anyone else casually strolling through.

Like Emmett.

Emmett?

What the hell was he doing at the university, in the library?

'Eddie! Looking good princess' he sidled up to me. 'What's up sweetie?'

I scowled, and went to stand up, before remembering my current problem, and settling for a high five. God, it was like we were teenagers.

'What are you doing in the library?' I asked.

'The real question is what have you been doing, or not doing?' He gestured to my pants, grinning without shame.

Nothing escaped that boy.

'Shut the fuck up.' I glared, not before glancing in Brown Eyes direction.

Em followed my line of sight, shamelessly looking Brown Eyes up and down, before letting out a low whistle.

'Edward, my man! I see you've crawled out of your heterosexual shell and spotted something finally doable! Congrats princess! I was worried there for a while, dude. I know I have a tempting physique and all, but the way you stared at me whenever you were down at the bar… it was like you were un-wrapping me with your eyes.'

I punched him in the arm.

He laughed. 'I can't blame you, bro. Most people want a piece of this' he gestured to his torso, before bending down and fake whispering '…most people want a piece of Em junior too.'

I snorted.

'You are so full of yourself.'

'At least I'm not the one struggling like a thirteen year old.'

'I never struggled as a thirteen year old.'

'That's because you were too busy wearing pink and flirting with the camera, sugar'.

Fuck.

Back story: I'd done a few modelling shoots as a teenager. I was really lanky for my age, and apparently held model appeal. Emmett had discovered this when mother dearest, Esme, blurted it out on a recent visit to Washington. Since then, I'd been given every degrading female nickname Emmett could roll off his tongue.

I sneered.

'Look, Edwina, while it's a shock to me that you actually do have any testosterone in the body of yours, I'm not one to judge. And she's good looking. Go talk to her. It can't be that hard; she looks easy.'

'Em, you fucking retard. I'm the reason she is dressed like that' I growled.

Emmett took a moment to gawk at my confession. Then, with an expression of awe, he raised his hand and gave me a congratulatory slap on the back.

'Enid! You sly son of a bitch! I had no idea you had it in you. I can't believe you didn't let her keep the top! She looks freezing. What did you do? Rip it off her?'

I gave him a curious glance. What the hell was he talking about?

'Don't have to be gallant, darling, spill the details.'

And then it dawned on me.

'Fuck you. I have not done anything to her. I mean I have, but….'

Emmett wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

'…not in the way you mean. She's half naked because I spilled coffee across her shirt this morning.'

Emmett was once again gripped by a moment of silence, before roaring his head back in laughter.

I huffed and slid further down in my seat.

'Good luck, you hot piece of ass!' he guffawed, 'I'm sure you're her favourite male right now. Good luck seeing her in anything less than what she's currently wearing'. He glimpsed across at her one more time, before giving me a cheeky wink and sauntering down towards the stacks.

He was impossible.

I chanced one more glimpse in her direction, to find her texting on her phone, and giggling. I was hit with a small wave of jealousy that made me realise I knew nothing about her: not what made her smile, not what she liked to eat, her favourite colour, she may even have a boyfriend.

I was also hit with the oh-so familiar wave of I-would-like-to-do-her-on-that-desk-and-preferably-now along with another familiar problem in my pants. Which made my life awkward, considering I had to be at another lecture in approximately 3 minutes.

Dead Grandma Marie.

Yellow Smiley emoticons.

Eating Fish.

Jessica.

Problem gone.

I began collecting my books to go to my next class, walking past her before reaching the entrance of the library. Not before catching her scent of… chocolate and mint.

God, I really wanted Brown Eyes.

First Story, second chapter. I'm fairly new to this, so any thoughts are loved.

Feedback is delicious.