Hey, cool kids. So... I'm in love with all of you. It's official. Thanks for tweeting, reviewing, reading, favoriting, alerting... anything. Thanks for trusting me enough to jump on board with only a chapter at your disposal. I have a lot of this fic prewritten, so it's going to be on a fairly regular updating schedule. I'm going to try for every Friday once I'm all done with Bad Fauxmance.

Thanks to my betas, Ali & mssnarkerella. They make this stuff pretty.

xXxXx

Bring on the Song

It's been a good class with him. He's so weird, but she likes it so much. She tries one of his reds on break, and she coughs for five minutes afterwards. He laughs the whole time, thumping her on the back as she hacks.

"Um, don't do that anymore?" It's a question. It's a suggestion. It's annoying.

Bella gets annoyed, but she doesn't stay that way. By the time they're walking out of the door, she's laughing at something obnoxious he says. I mean, all of what he says is obnoxious, but it's not always funny, she's starting to notice.

She's suddenly struck by an idea. She wants to talk to him more, outside of class. A lot. She wants to text him stupid things all night, questions she thinks he will probably know the answer to, because he has that kind of voice and face and stance that talks of worldly knowledge.

"Shit!" she cries, stopping him in the middle of a story. "Oh, shit, I've got to go – "

"Oh," he says, and he seems a bit offended. "Okay, well, bye – "

"Um, do you remember… the homework?" This is college, Bella. There is no homework. Wow. Wow. Stupid.

"I don't think – "

"Oh my god. Seriously. I have to go, like, now. Can you text me the homework?"

"There isn't – and I don't have your number."

"Oh… shit. True. Damn it. Here, it's – "

"You don't have enough time to listen to me tell you that there's no homework, but you have enough time for me to punch in a ten-digit phone number into my phone?"

Shit. He's smart. Really smart. Or else she's just completely dumb. "Oh, no, I mean, I really – I thought it would be good, you know, to be able to check up on – "

"I don't have texting," he says quietly. He doesn't look at her. He's embarrassed; it's plain as day. "I can't… afford it."

There is an awkward beat before she's apologizing. "Oh, god. I'm an idiot, I'm sorry. I just… I assumed. I shouldn't have. I didn't – "

"No, it's fine. It's really archaic not to have texting, but – "

"No. Don't. Let me apologize. I'm an idiot."

"That's not apologizing. That's insulting yourself. How would you know I didn't have texting? Actually… weren't you in such a hurry a second ago?"

Now she's embarrassed. "Yeah. I… bye."

"No, Bella." His voice is warm, so she would have stopped even if his hand hadn't touched her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I… I am a jackass, I think. Definitely stunted. I shouldn't tease you just because you found a better way to ask for my phone number… a better way than I could think of to ask you for yours."

xXxXx

He asks her to call around eleven. It's ten fifty-nine, and she's lying in bed with her phone on her face. If it vibrates, she's going to die.

Eleven on the dot. No, too soon. Too eager. Even though he seemed happy punching in his number on her phone. He has big fingers. Long, she means. Except his thumbs. They're thick and he has a silver ring on one of them. It has something written on it, but he was too quick with the buttons for her to read it.

Her phone buzzes. She dies. It's him. Oh god. Oh god.

"Hello?"

"You're late. I'm impatient."

So he doesn't play games either. Eleven means eleven to him. She'll remember that. She likes that a lot.

"I'm so sorry, your majesty." Well, she likes games a little. She's still weirded out about this calling thing. Just a week ago, she didn't know his name. Now, they're talking on the phone like old friends. Or new friends with awkward sexual tension. Or maybe just tension, and she's wishful thinking the sexual part.

And anyway, she's never actually just had a phone conversation before without some sort of preemptive text. Even when she was asked to call at a certain time, she would shoot the person a text asking if they were ready or available. Now, she just has to rely on the fact that he wants to talk to her. Which she is pretty sure he does, because he asked her to call.

But what about other times when he doesn't? What about times when she has a question, or just wants to hear from him? Does she have enough confidence in her place in his life to just pick up the phone and say hey?

Is this how people back in the day felt? Without any sort of technology – no email, no texting, no IM or Facebook message? She thinks of men in the fifties, picking up the phone to dial their object of affection, only to be questioned by her father and then spend five minutes of awkward words and giggling before finally getting around to asking her to the Dairy Freeze.

Or even earlier, the men in the Edwardian era, who had to rely on house visits and courting on porches with lemonade and a chaperone.

Edward asks her why she's so quiet, so she spills all of this onto him. He asks, so she tells. She hopes it will always be that easy.

It's his turn to be quiet after she's finished, and then he kind of chuckles. "I guess all that tobacco didn't go to your head after all."

She's kind of hurt at the distant response after pouring all of that out. She remembers that he said he's stunted, and she remembers from experience that he's obnoxious. She's patient and waits for a real response.

She doesn't get one.

"Well?" She's demanding his attention.

"Well, what?" He sounds surprised.

"Well, what do you think?"

"I think that I like that you're thinking."

"Of course I'm thinking. I want to know what you're thinking about what I'm thinking!"

"It's none of my business to think something about what you're thinking. Is that the only reason for you to think? Do your thoughts have to approved by someone?"

"No, but they stopped being only thoughts when I shared them with you. Now, they're ideas. What do you think?"

"I think that I liked your idea earlier, about getting my phone number, even if your execution was bad. I think I like having your number, too. I think I like knowing what you're thinking, even if I don't think anything in particular about it."

xXxXx

Her stepmother emails her whenever her dad starts complaining that he hasn't seen his daughter in too long. He has a son with Sue, and if Sue had her way, he would forget entirely about Bella. But Bella will always be his girl, and Bella loves that and Sue hates that and Charlie deals with that.

Sue's emails are always passive aggressively rude, but seem sweet if her dad ever has the whim to read them.

…When are you going to come see your father and I? Jake is asking about you, too. It's been a while since you've been up here. I hope you have enough gas money to get here. I know it's only a few hours drive, but that seems to have stopped you before. Let us know when you're planning to come.

Love,

Sue

Translation, thought Bella, is that you are an ungrateful daughter who doesn't want to see her father. You're making my son, who is strangely attached to you, sad that you don't care to spend time with him. I hope you have enough money, but I'm sure you do, because of your flighty, whore of a mother. I hate you, the woman who won.

She thinks Sue is bitter because even though Renee left Charlie, she still hasn't gotten the "reap what you sew" revenge Sue thinks she deserves. Renee didn't cheat, but she did get bored, and Sue's devout Christianity doesn't allow any room for divorce. Bella wonders where marrying a divorced man plays into that, but she's never voiced it.

Renee left Charlie, Bella's father, when Bella was barely five. She kind of just took off, and yeah, Bella guesses that hurt her feelings but she was always closer to Charlie, anyway. Renee always had hobbies to get to, and raising a child that wet the bed and spit up wasn't one of those hobbies. Charlie took it in stride, though, and even though he wasn't a jovial man, he was a good man and a good dad.

Sue came into Charlie's life around the same time Renee met Phil Dwyer, the heir of a monopolizing logging company in the Pacific Northwest. He was and is abso-freaking-lutely loaded, and that fit Renee's needs just fine.

Charlie was heartbroken for a while, as heartbroken as a taciturn man could be, and Bella suspects he may still be. But he let Sue take care of him, and she's been there ever since, going on ten years now. They have a son, Jacob, Bella's half-brother. He's a cool kid, with the Native American looks from Sue and the blue eyes from Charlie.

She went to live with Renee when Charlie got remarried because she couldn't stand Sue or their honeymoon stage. There was nothing quite like having the bedroom next to her newlywed father's room. She was around thirteen, so that was fine, because thirteen-year-old girls need a mother. She didn't exactly get a mother, because Renee was still too busy for her, but she did get Esme, which Bella thinks of as a much better alternative. She was also brought into a life of privilege a daughter of a Police chief wasn't accustomed to, with designer clothes and big bedrooms and private tutors.

She sighs and Emily asks her about the noise.

"Another email from step monster," Bella replies. It's a petty and cliché answer, but she really can't stand the woman. "Hey, wanna come to Forks with me this weekend?"

"What, and kill myself just to find something to do? No, thank you."

"Emmy…" Bella pulls out the big guns.

"Hell no, Bella Swan." But that means okay, fine, get out of my face, so Bella leans back, triumphant.

"It'll be fun. Hey, maybe Sam will come around." Bella wiggles her eyebrows in her roommate's direction.

"Oh, cool, and wind me up some more with his bitch of a girlfriend. Bella, I swear to god. What does he see in Leah? She is the most heinous cu – "

"I hate that word. Don't be crude, Emily. She's a total bitch, though. Agreed. Which is why you need to steal him away and treat him right. I know he has a thing for you."

"Oh, good, yeah. Just what I need, a practically engaged dude to lust after me. That bodes real well for a future with me."

Bella silently agrees, but she agrees more that Emily needs some excitement in her life. Or at least a penis. "Dude, come on. Every time you come with me to Forks, you and Sam, like… engage in serious unresolved sexual tension. It's totally stifling. It needs to be – "

"Ridden hard and put up wet?" Emily is still crude, but Bella loves her.

"Exactly."

Emily thinks for a minute. "Yeah, whatever. It's not like I have a life."

So around twenty-four hours later, they're driving the three hours to Forks. They live on the outskirts of Seattle. Bella hates big cities – she's too small town girl for that – but she guesses the suburbs are okay.

Emily has her feet propped on the dash and is reading sex tips out of Cosmo.

"Bella, what do you think about this finger probing thing? Apparently, guys love it."

"Guys have hairy assholes, Emily. I'd sooner drop my body in an unknown bush in the Amazon."

"Apparently, it tickles their version of a g-spot."

"Apparently, guys are just going to have to settle for a plain ol' blowjob from me. I know, their lives suck, don't they? It's awful, having a girl on her knees, making her gag. It's so hard to be a guy."

Emily is laughing. "Dude, no. I think the finger up the asshole could be a revenge thing. Unannounced shove into throat? Unannounced finger up the meat locker."

"Meat locker? That's enough." She turns up the radio. "It would be more of a punishment for me."

"Okay, well, what about you? Ever wanted someone to toss your salad?"

"Nah, I'm a wedge salad kind of girl."

"What, you want someone to wedge their – "

"Yes. Oh, yes. With no lube."

"You are so weird."

"I prefer 'sexually adventurous.'"

"Sexually deviant."

"It was a joke. Oh my god, drop it."

Bella's phone buzzes, so even if Emily doesn't want to drop it, she has no choice. Bella glances down, and it's Edward, and he's calling, and it wasn't planned, and Bella's heart is in her throat.

"Hello?"

"Is that Edward?" Emily crows.

"Yes, this is Edward," he answers.

"I know who it is – shut up, Emily!" Emily is making a grotesque face that looks like a mix between a blowjob and an orgasm.

"Hi, Bella. Bad time?"

"No, good time. Perfect time. I get to ignore my roommate, so that's great. Thanks."

"Are you sure? It's okay that I called, right?"

"Yes!" She knows how uncool she sounds. How eager. Emily laughs. Bella coughs. "Um, yes. It's totally cool. I told you that. Anytime."

"Seriously, anytime," Emily chimes in. "Especially if she's DJ-ing herself to thoughts of you."

"DJ-ing yourself," Edward repeats.

"Emily – so help me god I will go Tonka on you and dump truck you out of this car if you do not shut up! Edward – I don't know. Sorry. She's just… she has issues."

"DJ-ing," Edward says again. "What… oh. Oh. I get it. Like," he makes a scratched record noise, whee-kah whee-kah, "okay." Then he starts laughing, and she hasn't heard him laugh like that yet. She's pissed that Emily is the person who makes him laugh like that.

"Ask Edward how he feels about surprise fingers," Emily suggests.

"Surprise fingers?" Edward inquires, still chuckling. "What? Eleven fingers instead of ten?"

"Yes," says Bella, as Emily shouts no.

"Would you like to talk to him?" Bella snaps.

Emily looks taken aback, then grins. "Actually… yes." She snatches the phone from Bella before she can think twice.

"Hi, Edward!" Emily sings. Bella is fighting Emily for her phone back, and she's pretty sure she's flinging the car all over the road. "This is Emily, roommate par excellence. Tell Bella to relax. She's going to kill us… Bella, Edward says to relax. No, she doesn't look relaxed… Oh, we're going to Forks. What? No, it's not a restaurant. It's a town, where Bella grew up. There's like, nothing in it – what? Um, yeah, I guess there are a lot of eating utensils – "

And it's Bella's turn to snatch the phone back. Edward is laughing again, but it's more of a private joke sort of laugh. "Hi," she says. "I'm so sorry, I'm seriously going to trade her in for a new model."

"Maybe you should. She didn't get my eating utensils joke."

"Make better jokes," Bella suggests. "So… what's up?"

"Oh," says Edward, and he sounds startled. "Yeah… um. So, there's this art museum. In Seattle."

"I'm aware. I believe it's deceptively called the Seattle Art Museum. Such an awful name. They could make it a little more clear what it is – "

"Oh, you're Bella the comedian today."

They have known each other for a couple weeks at this point. They talk on the phone every couple of days, chat during class, and harass each other in the library. Every time, he names her as something – "Bella the blank" – usually something rude, Bella the jackass, Bella the fail, Bella the… comedian.

"Yes, today. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?"

"Is tomorrow going to bring you back to Seattle?"

"Oh, um. No. I'm staying in Forks all weekend."

He's silent. Then: "Okay, never mind."

"No, what?" She thinks he's going to ask her out, and she really wants him to. She tries to get him to tell her with a lot of different tactics, but none of them work. He's embarrassed. She's embarrassed for him.

"Nothing," he says, his tone completely final. "It's not important. Have fun… on your trip to Spoons."

"Forks."

"Sporks, then."

"Yeah, sporks. I live in a town called Sporks."

"It's not completely out of the question."

"Yeah, whatever – "

"Bye, Bella." And he's hung up, and Bella is staring at her phone, completely bewildered.

"He sounds like kind of a jerk," Emily offers as Bella slings her phone into a cup holder.

Bella shrugs. "Yeah… he kind of is, but also, he's really not. I'm not totally sure… but I think I really like him. He's like… he's not nice. But he's not a bad person. Does that make sense?"

"Kind of like you," Emily says, closing the Cosmo and rolling down the window. She lights up a cigarette, and Bella does the same, thinking about that.

"I'm nice," she says finally. Emily gives her a look, and Bella continues, offended. "I am. I gave Edward a dime when he ran out of change. I teach little girls how to dance. I…"

"Can't think of anything else," Emily finishes. "Bella, really. I love you, but you're just kind of…" She pulls a face that looks blank and wide-eyed. "I think you're just really bored."

Bella, for some reason, feels like crying. Emily isn't being cruel – she's used to her friend's blunt speak. She laughs at it usually. She agrees with it usually. She agrees with it now, but it still hurts. She doesn't know where her passion for everything has gone, and she's not sure if she wants to be one of those girls who comes alive again only because of a boy.

She vows to smile more.

It's a start, at least.

Her phone buzzes against the plastic cup holder as she takes the exit to Forks. It's him again.

"Hello?"

"Next weekend? Are you going to be here?"

"Yeah," Bella says slowly. "I'll be in Seattle."

"With me?"

Bella pauses. It's presumptuous and not exactly a question, but it's so him. She doesn't want rainbows and flowers. "Okay."

"Okay." And he's off the phone again.

Yeah, that 'smiling more' vow? She doesn't think that's going to be a problem.