A/N- t&a- couldn't love the lot of you more. The reviews have bowled us over, to the point that we're delivering on the promise and here's another chapter (quick eh?).

Special nod to Sadiyah and her patience for my lack of grammatical knowledge….

As always, we don't own, we just borrow and mold to fit our moods…

This song's going to you

The one who's so confused

The one who feels so used

You don't have to wait

For all this silly fate

For things you cannot make

Hey, what are you going to say?

What are you going to do?

When it's all said and done

Said and Done- Meiko

I cross my legs carefully trying to not knock off the ice pack balanced precariously on the top on my head. My computer hums and comes to life and I feel grounded again. That was a terrible idea. Almost enough for me to ignore all urges to ever branch out again. I reach my head up tentatively to press at the definite lump on my head and wince at the pain that results.

Stupid hard bar. Stupid wallet. Stupid over confident bartender. This could all have been avoided if he had simply let me attempt to order. But, no. Instead he had to card me and launch my already troubled head into fits of worry about my ID being fake. Not that it is. It's real, but how would he know that?

I work my fingers over the keys and pull up Facebook. The tingle of anticipation builds as the page loads. I actually have something to say, something to report for once. Instead of simply replying to other people's stories and problems I have something to offer. I skip over the changes in my 'friends' profiles and open my own, prepared to spill my adventure onto my wall.

Just as I open the dialogue box, a chat box appears. I lose the careful hold on my ice bag and I swear under my breath as it falls underneath my futon. My eyes dart from the screen to the floor, unable to pick a winner. My fingers choose for me.

Alice Brandon- there you are. i was wondering if you were going to be on tonight…

I smile at the remark. Alice isn't someone I would have naturally become friends with. She was destined for a more remarkable storyline. Born into old money, with a trust fund the size of a small country. If we hadn't been placed as roommates in the freshman dorms we would have never crossed paths. Not that we really did a lot together in college. The after college friendship has been much more substantial. For some reason its easier to talk to Alice through a computer than in person.

Isabella Swan- sorry. i actually met someone tonight.

I should have held back the information, made her sweat it out of me, but I'm not and will never be that cool. I chew on my thumb nail as I wait for her response. The coppery taste of blood taints my mouth and I pull my finger from my mouth. Groaning I wrap it in my t–shirt. I need to lay off the thumb for a bit.

Alice Brandon- like a boy?

I roll my eyes at her response. Not that I can blame her for the reaction. My entire dating history as Alice knows it consists of three eager project partners and one overly drunk frat boy.

Isabella Swan- no a tarantula. yes a boy.

My leg twitches in anticipation. Usually I'm the sounding board for Alice's problems and excitement. She never has an end to her stories. Her trust fund has made her into a jack of all trades. Since college she's tried at least 10 careers looking for the 'prefect fit', currently she's learning to be a pastry chef.

Alice Brandon- and….

I can't stop my mouth from falling open. And? AND this is the first time I've even attempted to ask her to listen or share just an ounce of excitement. AND I've listened/read 100s of her stories about dates and awful bosses. I grit my teeth and take the time to fish under the bed for my ice pack. She can wait.

Alice Brandon- well tell me about him!

I smile and feel the excitement bubble back up. I almost take my thumb nail back between my teeth, but stop just in time to avoid blood. The images of the bartender flood my memory.

Isabella Swan- he owns a bar near my work and has all these tattoos

I stare at the words after I send them off and scowl. That is nowhere near doing him justice.

Alice Brandon- uh oh! an authentic bad boy? What happened to my freshman roommate?

Her words drag a full smile across my face. Just that lacking description has given me a new level of interest. I don't even know his name and he's already making my story more exciting.

Isabella Swan- we just really connected

That's sort of true. He was there when my head connected with the bar. The ice on my head starts to melt and I shiver as an ice trail begins to run down my back.

Alice Brandon- so when are you going to see him again?

My eyebrows furrow as I read her question. Honestly? I'll see him tomorrow from the window of my cubicle in fat pill hell, but actually see him? I'm not sure I face him any time soon. It took me days to work up the courage to open the door. And after the show I put on today it'll take me weeks to look him in the eye much less speak to him.

Isabella Swan- I'm going to make him work for next time

Or really I'll be seating out trying to talk myself back into that bar. By the time I feel comfortable under his relentless gaze he'll probably have forgotten all about my little episode today.

Alice Brandon- when did you become such a tease?

I giggle at her words and toss the ice pack to the side. I slide down the futon and curl around my lap top. I feel changed, weathered. The conversations drifts back towards Alice and her frustration with all things butter cream, but my high can't be touched. Isabella Swan had a story to tell.

I rode the high of the enigma bartender for week, heading Alice off with small details of possible future interactions and his imagined attempts to get in touch with me. Every conversation fed my craving, my need to be a lead character rather than a face in the background.

I slip in my ear buds and take the stairs quickly. I'm almost ready to do a pass by of the bar again. Ready for that tingle of possibility that I might see him. I let my hands trail along the rough brick of a building as I walk, losing myself in my ability to disappear on the streets and already putting together a new story for Alice later tonight.

I glance down at my watch and decide to venture into the park. I have fifteen minutes and I feel that kind of day coming on. I plunge into the park and smile as the sunlight is broken up in patches my the trees. The noise is overpowered by my ipod and I only hesitate a second before slipping my feet out of my ballet flats and roaming off the path to feel the cool grass under my toes.

The moment is almost sublime and I can see the scene being written out. Blissful, peaceful, and… wet. The shriek pulls itself from my mouth before I can realize what's happening. A large dog is pawing my torso my legs and every other part of my body it can reach, its wet tongue and nose pressing into my stomach and heads and thank god missing my face.

My body tenses and I pull my arms up over m y head trying to give the monster less to assault. My eyes roam the park looking for someone to save me, or at least claim the beast in front of me. The large paws settle on my breasts and my mouth falls open. The first time in years someone/something has copped a feel and its a dog. Suddenly bronze and black and white appear in front of me. I can't move even though Kujo has been removed.

When I am sure there is no damage I lower my arms and look at my attacker. The large dog is panting heavily, drool falling from its huge lips. I shift my gaze slightly to the left and take in the basketball shorts, then up to a white v neck, dark with sweat and then the face. My faces flushes impossibly redder. Of course the groping dog would be owned by him. At least this will make a good story for my wall later.

By the time my eyes meet his face I watch his mouth moving but still only hear the music in my ears. I feel my brow furrow.

"What?" I ask. He laughs and shakes his head before reaching forward and plucking one bud from my ear. He smiles at me and I attempt a reply, but I'm sure I don't succeed.

"Sorry about Walt, he likes boobs," he states. Seriously? That's his apology. I shake my head and rip my other ear bud out.

"Your dog likes boobs? How would you even know that? Do you let him watch porn? God that's wrong," I reply. I can just picture them sitting on a couch together watching some awful celebrity sex tape. Not even one of the good ones. His smile widens and I am a little baffled. Does nothing wipe that off his face?

"It's healthy to be curious and Walt's a big boy. Nothing wrong with a little bit of porn," he answers. Well, there you have it. I guess if they watched the good stuff and as long as Bartender didn't pull his…equipment out in front of him….

"You really should invest in a leash and just because you're dog has a healthy boob appetite does not make it ok for him to grab random people in the park. Teach your dog some manners," I scold. He just shakes his head before throwing the dog what I think is a scolding look. I take the moment to take him in again. The black and color bleeding over his skin. I can only see pieces as he moves and I want him to stand still so I can give Alice a good description.

He turns his eyes back on me and I watch as he reaches out to press his fingers against the top of my head.

"How's you head?" he asks. And of course he would remember. This officially a comedy reel. "The magic ice at your place do you any good?"

And now he's making fun of me. I cross my hands over my chest and glare just a little bit. I try to pull together the perfect response, a few huff of breath escaping in the process.

"It did a fantastic job thanks. Magical powers and all able to dissolve the pain of an abnormally hard bar. What is that thing even made of?" I demand. He laughs and scuffs his feet a little against the pavement.

"I don't know. Come back tonight and check it out. I'll even get you that drink on the house," he offers. His voice is soft and sweet and he could lure someone into serious harm with that thing. Maybe he should be cast as a villain. I'm overwhelmed by the idea of letting him enter my story again and the unknown turn it might take. I clench my fists and feel the weight of my watch. My eyes dart down to the numbers and my heart races.

"I don't know if that's a good idea. I don't even know what I would order. And it was really nice of you to be so nice about your dog being a pervert but I'm going to be late for work and I'm never late for work, so I really need to go," I spit out. I almost trip over the hem of my pants as I try to shove my feet back into my shoes. Just as I'm ready to bolt a warm hand covers my bicep.

"Hey," his voice is softer, impossibly more soothing. "We'll figure out what you like. It's the least I can do. Come by when you get off or I'll come and find you." He raises a pierced eye brow menacingly and I sigh. It would be something new. And he does have really soft hands and the ability to translate my babble.

"Sure. I need to go," I repeat. He releases me arm and I turn and leave before he can stop me. I'm halfway down the street before the whole scene really pieces together in my mind. His soft eyes, the clean lines of his tattoos and the monster. I am officially interesting.