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This morning I saw 13 at the coffee shop on the way to work. It was a complete violation of the unspoken my turf/his turf clause in the break up. He was a nice guy. Even took me to the ballet; which went really well until I fell asleep. Midterms will do that to you. He's married now, to my chemistry lab partner I introduced to him when I was fading myself out of his life.

It should make me happy. He has found something with her that I could have never given him, but more than anything it stung. His numbered scar opened a little and burned. But it wasn't anything that over enthusiasm and a chai couldn't fix. And yet as I round the corner into my office the hand holding the hot drink shakes just a little.

I grit my teeth and plaster on the grin my staff expects from me. It's all about decisions and I made mine about 13. I spared him.

"Izzy!" The chorus that greets me peels the insincerity from my face. I hold up my drink in salute and begin to make my way to the desk, but then I stop. My desk is…occupied.

I had almost forgotten about the pencil neck. I should really stop calling him that. Edward I suppose then. Eddie maybe? My eyes flicker over his hunched frame. No, doesn't look like an Eddie. Too serious.

His concentration serves as the perfect guise to look him over without shame. He isn't as old as he carries himself. Not much older than I am if at all. But, he hides it well. The starched shirt, the unblemished loafers, the whole package. It makes me want to spill coffee all over it just to release him from the conformity.

My attention diverts to the drink in my hand again. Shit. I should have gotten him something. That would have been the nice thing to do. Unfortunately I was too distracted by the burning to think that far ahead. My lips purse as I realize what I am going to have to do.

"Morning Edward!"

I hope that sounded pleasant and not remorseful. It takes every ounce of good will inside of me to place my beloved chai on the desk into front of him.

"I got you a chai, I hope you like them," I say surely. Please God let him say no. Say no, say no. His eyes dart between the newly foreign object invading his workspace and my face. I hold my smile steady. I will be nice to the pencil neck.

"Chai what?" he asks looking up at my blankly. He blinks a few times as the absurdness of it all washes over me. Surely he jests.

"A Chai latte. Coffee of sorts?" I explain.

It's a reach calling it coffee. It's so much more than coffee. Surely they educate pencil necks on these things. Now my noble effort seems wasted. I want to snatch it back and take back the offer.

"Um thank you, for the thought, but I only drink regular coffee," he smiles tersely. I an torn between demanding that he drink in and experience TRUE coffee and kissing him for not making me be that noble.

I chew the inside of my cheek and argue both sides in my mind. Before I can make up my mind I realize that he is still looking at me, waiting for my response. I reach down and move the offending object from his sight and bring it to my lips. There is no chance of my eyes not closing and savoring this moment.

"Your loss. Let me know if you need anything,"

I don't wait for a response before I make my way over to my frantic team. Let him wade through the misery of paperwork alone then.

***

I stare down at the numbers in front of me and attempt to focus, because this particular job requires more focus than I think even the average person has; but I can't. I can't focus because she just breezed away and left a trail of sweet coconuts in her wake.

That was strange. Strange but sweet. I was shocked that she thought to get me something. I don't know why she would assume that I'd be a chai person, but it was sweet.

And she's slightly more presentable than she was yesterday. She may have actually combed her hair.

I sigh and rub the back of my neck. I have to focus. I don't know what possessed me to say yes to doing this. Clearly a huge lapse in judgment on my part.

I catch a whiff of coconut and look up. I know why I took this job. I don't know the complete reason but I know the basics. She's standing, not even ten feet away from me, shuffling through papers and laughing in between a story she's telling. She throws whatever paper she isn't interested in onto the floor and I gape.

Then again, I shouldn't be surprised—she was so careless with her finances it would follow that she'd be careless with everything else as well.

I push back from the desk and walk over to her. It's when I'm kneeling down to lift the paper off the floor that I realize that I didn't think this through at all.

I stuff my left hand into my pocket and wrap my fingers around the ring before I clear my throat. "Excuse me, Isabella?" She doesn't hear me, too wrapped up in the story she's telling. Something about a boy and a bear rug. Something about those two things in the same sentence make my throat constrict.

I try again. "Isabella?" Again, she doesn't hear me. I sigh and take a deep breath before I reach out and tap her shoulder. "Isabella."

She spins around, sending at least a dozen more papers flying through the air, with her laughter still evident on her face. "Hey, I didn't see you there. Have you finally come to your senses and decided to run screaming for your office?"

I stare at her for a moment, still amazed that anybody could smile with such enthusiasm, and especially amazed that anyone might be able to smile with such enthusiasm at me. "Um, no, I just… you dropped this," I say and offer the paper to her lamely. "But you dropped a few more. Let me just…" I bend down and begin to collect the other papers.

"No, no, please don't pick up after me," she says hastily and kneels down next to me. "I'm already in your debt for helping and if you do this how will I ever break even?"

There's the coconut again. "It's fine," I tell her and take a deep breath and force my heart rate to slow. Her fingers brush my arm as she reaches for a sheet of paper that's out of her reach, and she squeals as she loses her balance in the effort.

Her laughter is broken up with a few snorts as she lands on her ass. Obviously she is okay, so I just stare at her as she laughs and snorts and I can't help the small smile that twitches at my lips.

"Bella," I say softly when her laughter begins to die down. Isabella seems like far too serious a name for her. "Are you alright?"

I offer her my hand and pull her to her feet.

"Izzy," she says and wipes the backs of her legs off. "Call me Izzy."

I frown slightly and tilt my head. Izzy doesn't suit her either. "You're okay?"

"Oh, love, that was nothing. Stick around and you'll see much worse." She grins up at me and I feel my heart squeeze again. I've been smiled at, daily; I don't know why I'm suddenly having such an adverse reaction to it.

"Alright, well, I'll be over there," I say stupidly and motion towards the desk. "If you need me."

"And I'll be here," she says, laughter in her voice. "If you need me."

***

The silence suddenly coating the office makes me nervous. I turn back to my team and take in their frozen poses. My brows furrow in confusion.

"What?" I demand. I immediately check the rear of my pants making sure I didn't do any damage with my minor fall. That would not be good. I spin a little trying to see before eliminating that worry.

"You were flirting with him," Jacob the intern hisses. His young face is red with the admission. I laugh openly, letting my head fall back.

"Jacob love, that was hardly flirting," I inform him patting his tense arm. His eyes fix on the contact and I retract quickly. Angela has told me several times that he may have some kind of schoolboy crush on me and I do not want him to be 23. I cross my arms awkwardly over my chest and sigh.

"So we need to make sure all the donation forms are ready, what else?" I ask, trying to get the team back to work. Papers rustle and Angela nods her agreement.

"The silent auction needs to be typed out, minimum bids, donators and all that," she rattles off. I nod and glance back at Jacob who is still red in the face.

"Would you mind Jake?" He needs the distraction. He nods his answer and leaves the small circle.

And then there were two. My team has to be small, at least at first. Hopefully eventually it will involve many more people and touch many more children, but our foundation is still a baby.

"Have you finally confirmed all the acts?" I ask, not bothering to raise my eyes from the act order. This has to go well, it will mean adding another school to out benefactors. Which is huge, we only have two so far.

It's been slow work, painfully slow at times, but it's so much more than showing up with a giant check written out to the school. There are contracts to be signed, relationships to be built and most importantly money to be brought in. This brings me back to the pencil neck.

I glance over at my desk where he has started to sort my mess into several piles. At least it looks like progress. He runs both hands through his hair and I can't help but smile at the mess he leaves in his wake.

"He's right you know," Angela states. I whip my head back towards her.

"Who is right?" I ask. I start to push all the paper in front of me into a single pile. There has to be some method in all this mess.

"Jake. You were flirting with the accountant," she says nonchalantly. I roll my eyes. Angela thinks I'm flirting when I drop a couple quarters in the baristas tip cup to ensure an extra shot of espresso.

"I was being friendly. Friend not enemy, remember? Besides he's doing something I can't so I should be nice, right? Make sure he wants to do right by us?" I reply. Angela chuckles under her breath. I hate when she does that. I hated it in college and I hate it now.

"What, Goddess of all things pertaining to Izzy?" I patronize. She shakes her head and sighs.

"Oh nothing. What number would he be? 46? 47?" she teases. I roll my eyes and give her a small shove. She would use my toll against me.

"Shut your mouth Angela. There is no law against being nice to someone. Besides, he's an accountant, how many people do you think are actually nice to him?" I retort.

"Everyone is confirmed and Smooth called to confirm the catering. I think we're set," she continues. See. I am right. Crisis avoided for the moment. We continue to pass information back and forth. Even though this looks like chaos it's really controlled perfection.

I settle down on the floor and begin to make the event come to life on the space in front of me. This is what I love; seeing it all come together. Seeing weeks of organization and work come to pass. And this is going to be especially amazing. Finally people are wanting to support our cause, volunteering their time and voices.

My knee starts bouncing to the music I can hear in my head. Pencil neck coughs and my music is cut off. I tilt my head slightly so I can see him just out of the corner of my eye. He looks confused. Beyond confused- irritated. Not a good look on him.

I groan a little as I push myself up off the ground and across the room to him.

"I feel like I should apologize for something, but I don't know what," I offer.

***

She doesn't know what to apologize for. She wouldn't know what to apologize for. She wouldn't think that giving somebody this horrendous job might warrant an apology. Or that I can't work when she's sitting five feet away from me and I can smell the coconuts and hear her say something to herself every so often.

I run my fingers through my hair. "How do you run anything like this?" I ask her and it comes out a little more harshly than I intend it to, but I'm frustrated. "There are bills that haven't been paid since last year in here."

"Huh," she says and bites her lip. And the face is just a lot cuter than it should be right now. Her hair's gotten messier as the day has progressed and she's blinking at me with possibly the most adorable, clueless expression on her face. And I just can't. I dig for the ring and press my thumb against it. "I think Angela might have some of the paid accounts."

"Angela might have some of the paid accounts?" This is a joke. One day I'm going to look back at this and I'm going to laugh. If it doesn't kill me first. "Who's Angela?"

"Seriously? Hold on."

I watch her all but skip over to the woman she had been speaking to earlier and bend over to talk to her. I watch as she reaches under Angela's desk and her hand emerges with a small box. And then she grabs Angela's arm and all but drags her to the back.

"Ang, this is Edward, who is saving us from finance hell. Edward, this is Angela, my slave driver," Bella introduces with another adorable little smile. And… when did I start thinking of her as Bella?

I rub my forehead. "Right, Angela. Hello, it's a pleasure to meet you. You wouldn't happen to have some of the paid accounts?"

Angela smiles. "It's nice to meet you," she says and I see her shoot a look at Bella… Isabella… Izzy? Whatever. She shoots her a look and then looks at me again. Why can't this place just have the tiniest semblance of order? "It's amazing that you can actually make some order of this mess. Maybe you and Iz should discuss a part-time position? Keep us all in line."

I just stare at her and wonder what a job that'd last more than a few weeks here would do to me. I'd probably have an aneurism by the end of the year. Definitely an ulcer. And then I shift my eyes and look at Bella who's shooting her friend an annoyed expression and holding onto a heman lunchbox. And I can't help the laughter that just builds and then bubbles out of me.

When my laughter finally ceases, I take a deep breath and put my hand on my stomach. That hurt. I haven't laughed that hard in… I don't know, a long time. And I look up and both girls are staring at me. Angela looks slightly frightened but I don't look at her long enough to care. I look at Bella and she's staring at me with an amused expression on her face.

I clear my throat. "Excuse me. Sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" Bella asks, eyes wide and sparkling down at me. "Heman can take a good laugh at his expense."

I loosen the top button of my shirt and roll my shoulders around before extending my arms. "I can take it," I say bravely. "Let's see what's inside."

She hands it to me and I open the lunchbox slowly, taking a moment to remember sitting in the cafeteria in elementary school with my Superman lunchbox. And I know I visibly cringe when I see more crumpled papers inside because she sighs.

"If I apologized again would you stop looking at Heman like that?" she asks and I look up to find her staring down at me anxiously. Angela has retreated to her desk.

"At some point before I finish, you and I are going to have a really long talk about how organization can make your life, both professional and personal, so much better."

"Ugh," she says and a look of pure disgust crosses her features. "Let's hope you never finish then."

And then she flashes me a big smile and bounces off. I close my eyes for a moment and just breathe. This is going to kill me.

***

I wave Angela out the door and rest my hands on my hips. There is nothing left to do here. I methodically move around the room, switching off lights and collecting things I'll need tonight. and collecting pieces of my wardrobe I've left about. My shoes are next to the coffee maker, my jacket thrown over the fish tank. I am about to turn out the last light when I realize that I'm not alone.

My body freezes as I watch Edward continue to meticulously sort out the mess. His eyes move from pile to pile as his hand darts out to place things in the appropriate place. Never a missed beat, never a hesitation. I envy that.

He pauses and takes a long breath, letting his eye lids close. He really does look so much better at the end of the day. From a completely objective perspective. There is nothing attractive about being so tightly wound. At least now there is a comfort in the way he moves. I reach into my bag and dig around for the envelope I know is there.

I make sure to make noise on my way over to announce my presence. He looks up at me over the rims of his glasses and, can it be so, almost smiles. Almost.

"I guess it's quitting time."

Wow. I really just said that. How awful. I chuckle at my own expense. He glances down at his perfectly placed practical watch and then back up at me.

"Wow, I completely lost track of the time," he breathes. I laugh again.

"Complete chaos will do that to you," I reply. He nods and doesn't argue. We both know how bad it really is. He begins to gather his things and I rock back and forth on my heels, watching. Just before he stands I toss the envelope on the desk in front of him. He stares at it blankly.

"It's for the event we're having tonight. We've been talking about it all day in front of you, so I figured you might want to come," I offer. He picks it up slowly and turns it over in his hands, but doesn't open it.

"It's a benefit for a school we're starting to fund. A lot of great local bands are playing and there's free food."

I don't know why I am trying to convince him to come.

"Thank you," he says softly. There is a pause and I try not to look like a little girl who is about to find out whether or not she's getting a pony for Christmas.

"But, I actually have a, um, dentist appointment, so I don't think I'll be able to make it," he babbles. I take the disappointment right in the gut, but smile through it. A simple no would have sufficed.

"Ok, well all the information is there if you change your mind."

Hopefully that sounded indifferent. He smiles tersely at me and pushes his glasses up on his nose once again.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?" I ask. I watch as his hand reaches into his pocket again. The nervous ticks this man possesses. A whole arsenal.

"Yeah…yes, I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night, Bella."

I don't have the energy or heart to correct him again. I wait for him to leave before pulling the door shut behind me, the lock giving me an excuse not to walk down with him. Stupid Angela. There was no chance that man would ever want to be a number on my tragic list. Not that I wanted him to be. Or course not. Even if I did have the slightest thing for green eyes.

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