A/N-t&a- ummm… seriously, you guys are fucking amazing. we are so, so, so thrilled that you're all enjoying this story especially because we enjoyed the hell out of writing it. another quickie for you all *ahem*.

anyway… we know you know we don't own but we have to say it anyway. hope you all enjoy!

Get up, get out, get away from these liars
Cause they don't get your soul or your fire
Take my hand, knot your fingers through mine
And we'll walk from this dark room for the last time.
"Open Your Eyes" Snow Patrol

The girl with the wild, child-like eyes makes me laugh.

If someone were to ask me why I told her to come by tonight, I'd say that. The girl's not my style. She's weird and jittery and kind of crazy and she talks way too fast, but she's funny as fuck.

Plus, she looked like she was gonna shit herself when Walt jumped at her. I felt sort of bad. Well, until she got that angry little affronted look on her face when she realized he was pawing her tits. She looked like she felt seriously violated.

Getting molested by a dog.

I laughed until I started wondering what kind of face she'd make if I pawed her tits.

And then I got hard, invited her to the bar, and booked it.

Not because I'm embarrassed of a little wood—can't control that shit—but I'm pretty sure she would've keeled over and died if she noticed.

I get dressed quickly in just jeans and a black t-shirt, run my hands through my hair to get the excess water out, and sling my dog tag around my neck.

"Hey, perv," I say and pat Walt's head. "I'll be downstairs. Call me if you need me."

He thumps his tail and closes his eyes.

I take the stairs down to the bar and start opening everything up. I know the girl is gonna show up. How do I know? Because of the way she looks at me. She gets nervous and she babbles but when she thinks I'm not looking she stares like she's trying to memorize me.

"Hey, Harold," I say without looking up when the door opens. He's always the first one in, it's routine by now.

"Actually, it's Bella—not Harold. Although, I guess I've been called worse things and if it's a nickname, I wouldn't mind."

My head snaps up and there's the girl standing just inside of the doorway, frozen, both hands clutching the strap of her bag like a lifeline. I expected her but not this early.

"You gonna come in or are you manning the door for the night, Bella?"

She walks clumsily, like a baby on new legs, towards the stool farthest from where I'm standing and sits down. She looks down at the bar and starts tracing patterns into it.

"Were you very late for work?" I ask and walk slowly towards her, as if I'm approaching a terrified little animal that might run away.

"Almost. Three minutes. But someone had a birthday or a baby or something so I snuck in without trouble."

She still hasn't looked up at me.

I start mixing a drink for her, hoping that either my inattentiveness or the alcohol will make her relax slightly. "What is it that you do?"

I look up at the sound of her laughter but it's not really a funny laugh. "I sell something that doesn't work to people who shouldn't buy it and then I get a little pat on the back when I succeed. I basically suck."

I slide the drink in front of her and she looks at it warily. "Try that. Tell me if you like it and be honest."

Her small hand wraps around the glass and she brings it up to her full lips. Her nerves make her hands shake slightly and some of the drink spills out onto the bar. She takes a sip and winces, her body shudders once hard. I bite back my urge to laugh.

"That tastes like the stuff my mom used to give me when I said I had a cold. I hated it so much I never told my mom when I was sick."

I laugh. "We'll save it for later then." I take it back and start making her another.

"So," I begin as I start mixing new ingredients. "You basically suck? Is that what you said?"

"That seems like the gist. At least I have a moral compass, right? It'd be worse if I did all of this and didn't care. What do you do? I mean… wait, forget I said that."

I laugh and slide the next drink in front of her. "Does it make your customers happy?"

She pulls the drink to her and then her tongue darts out and licks the rim before she takes a small sip. "This tastes like candy," she breathes out, eyes wide, awe and surprise written clearly on her face.

And then I watch in mild fascination as she tips the glass and downs the entire thing. "Be easy, girl, it's only 6:30."

"That is definitely my new favorite. I couldn't even taste the alcohol. What's it called?"

I look up. "I just made it up," I tell her. "Should we name it after you?"

Her mouth falls open a little before she tries to chew on her thumbnail which is covered in a beige band-aid. "Name it after something memorable," she says. "Not me. Like your dog or the first girl you couldn't get enough of."

I hand her another filled glass. "It's pink, Bella. A pink drink named Walt would look ridiculous. Same goes for Pamela, which isn't really a pink name, but she was the first girl I wacked off to."

Her eyes widen, a lot, and then she says, "Well then name it after something pink. Just not me. Drinks named after me wouldn't sell and then, if your bar went under and your dog went hungry, I would never forgive myself. Just don't name it after me."

"It'd probably turn people off if a drink named pussy was on the menu."

Her mouth falls open and her cheeks turn bright red. "Oh, well. Name it whatever you want, I guess."

I laugh and she hands the empty glass to me. "La Bella. It's got a nice sound, don't you think?"

"You know what I think about naming a drink after me. But you're the boss and what you say goes I guess. So, great. I hope it's a big hit."

"So? What do you sell?" I ask and hand her another drink.

She keeps her eyes down as she says, "Diet pills. Which are a joke because they don't really work, but people think they do because they see them on tv."

I laugh, loudly, trying to picture this crazy, wide-eyed girl lie to people all day long. "That sounds too dishonest for you to pull off."

She laughs a little bit, a little bitterly, and looks up at me. "I just read lines."

"So… do you need a degree to do something like that? Like, telemarketers 101? Or how to con people classes?"

Once the words are out I realize that they sound a little mean and a lot judgmental. I don't know anything about this girl or her circumstances.

She looks down again and plays with the condensation on the glass before lifting it to her lips and downing it's contents. In one shot. Again.

A soft spot, clearly.

"Need a degree? Hardly. I think there are people there who only know the English written on the page. But I do have a degree. For what it's worth. Which it seems is $9.50 an hour."

"A degree in?" I ask and take the glass from her. I purposely brush my fingers against hers. Sometimes a little contact is necessary and she looks like she could use a lot of it.

She smiles up at me and it's looser than any of the faces that she's ever made at me. A lot more relaxed. Thank you, La Bella.

"Art history. Can't you tell?"

"Oh, yeah," I say and lean forward. I press my finger to the smooth skin between her eyebrows and drag it down to the tip of her nose. "It's all written right there, in fine print. Can't believe I missed it."

The lazy little smile appears again before she lays her arm down on the bar and then rests her cheek on it. Her eyes don't close, they stay trained on me. "Can I have another La Bella? I think they might have a little magic in them… or at least something that makes me feel fantastically fuzzy."

I shrug. "You can have whatever you want as long as you're not walking home by yourself. Can any of your friends come pick you up later?" I ask as I start mixing the ingredients again.

"Sure. If you go grab my computer they can all walk me home."

I narrow my eyes at her and slide the drink over to her. "Well, if that's a no, you can crash here."

She takes a small sip and closes her eyes. "I don't think a bar is a great place to sleep. Besides, I can walk—I feel fine and it's not like anything would happen to me. That would be a deviation. Trust me."

I laugh. "Hang on a sec, girl, I've got a customer. Sit up and look alive."

I wait for her to nod before I walk to the other end of the bar to take care of the people that just walked in. I look at my watch quickly… Tony should be here any minute now. My eyes drift to the girl who's holding her drink like a lover and swaying slightly to the Zeppelin that's still playing. I smile and shake my head and pour two more beers before I look over at her again to make sure she hasn't fallen off of the stool.

She's in what looks like a serious conversation with Harold. I pour a drink for Harold and for myself and walk back over.

"This here jackass thought you were me?" I hear Harold ask her and she nods emphatically. "What's wrong with you? You blind or something?" he asks me when he sees me. "This girl's a hell of a lot prettier than me."

I look between the two of them and nod thoughtfully. "Yeah. Yeah, she's a lot prettier than you are."

Bella giggles again and blushes slightly. "How'd the party go, Harold?" I ask and wipe down the bar.

He shrugs. "Why're you talkin' to me when you've got a pretty girl sittin' right here wanting to talk to you?" he asks with a shake of his head. "I swear to god, you've got no skill, Edward."

"Edward," Bella sounds out. She looks like she's trying to figure out how it feels in her mouth. She takes another sip of her drink before saying, "I guess it suits you. It's not what I would have picked, but I think it'll grow on me."

"Oh, well, thank god. That's a huge relief," I say sarcastically.

The smile that spreads on her face is the biggest and most authentic I've seen from her. Ever. "You're welcome."

"You gonna crash here, Bella?"

"I think I'm good to walk. Don't you think, Harold?" I watch as she tries to get off the stool and disappears entirely from sight.

I lean forward to try to see if she's okay but I can't see her at all. I walk around quickly and she's sitting there, curled up, retying her shoelaces. "Bella." I hold out my hand and pull her up. "You're not even okay to stand. You'll fall and get hit by a car and I'll have the guilt of your death on me for the rest of my life. Just sleep over."

"I haven't had a sleepover since the 7th grade and I hated it. They froze my bra and wrote on my face with lipstick," she says and frowns up at me.

I smooth her hair back off of her face. "The only thing I'll ever do with your bra is take it off of you," I say with a small smile and kiss her cheek. The girl is sad. I know only because that vacancy, the loneliness, in her eyes is something that I used to be extremely familiar with. It's what being misplaced looks like—being somewhere where you don't belong and having no one to belong to.

"I promise. Come on upstairs with me."

She just nods and presses herself into my side. "Tony," I call out, "I'll be back in a few minutes. You okay?"

He waves me off and I pull Bella towards the door. "You feeling okay? Want me to make you some food or something?" I ask her as I push the door open.

"No, thank you," she says in a tiny quiet voice.

I pull her tighter into my side as we climb the stairs together. "You sure? Don't be shy now."

"No. I feel fine. Heavy, but good. You're taking very good care of me."

I laugh and unlock the door to my apartment. Walt comes flying to the door, nails sliding against the hardwood floor. I put a hand up in his face when Bella turns completely into my side. "Hold your shit together, buddy," I tell him and pat his head. "Don't scare our guest."

Bella's still tucked into my side, her cheek against my chest. "So, the bathroom is right there," I tell her as we start walking further into the place. "And there's aspirin in the kitchen in the drawer under the microwave if you need any."

I only feel her nod minutely against my chest. "And this is my bedroom. Do you want something more comfortable to sleep in?"

I watch her as she looks down and assesses her outfit—a skirt and a t-shirt. "I'm okay," she says, finally looking up at me, "but I don't want to get your bed dirty with my shoes. Should I take them off?"

I laugh and touch the side of her face for a second. "Please do. I don't want you accidentally kicking me in the balls in the middle of the night."

She pulls away from me and her eyes widen slightly. Her hands wrap around the strap of her bag until her knuckles turn white. "I don't want to put you out. I can still walk home. I promise I won't talk to any strangers."

I tug on the strap of her bag until she releases it and put it down on my chair. "Put me out? First of all, the bed is huge. Second of all, you would talk to strangers. And third, no guy with functional eyesight and a working dick would be opposed to having a cute little girl sleep in his bed."

I fight back my laughter when her mouth falls open into a perfect o before she nods and crawls into my bed. She pulls the comforters up to her chin, clutching the blanket as if she's afraid I might rip it off of her.

"Should I stay until you fall asleep?"

"Not unless you want to," she whispers. "I know you should be working. Thank you so much, Edward. I won't take up much room or blankets. Promise." Her words trail off on a yawn and I sort of want to just say fuck it and get under the covers with her.

I do the next best thing and go and sit next to her with one hand on the other side of her hip, closing her in. "I could sing you a lullaby."

"Mmmm, whatever you want, Edward." Her eyes are drooping and her voice is so small.

I clear my throat and stroke her cheek with the backs of my fingers and hum Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to her. It's Finn's favorite and so, the first to pop into my head.

She's watching me through heavy eyes. I finish the song and whisper, "Goodnight, Bella." I lean down and kiss the tip of her nose.

"Goodnight, Edward."