Jasper's Point Of View

I slowly and carefully opened my mother's closet door, bracing myself for the torture I would have to endure whilst searching for those magazines.

I squinted my eyes shut as the door creaked open, and hesitantly peeked my head inside. It was like staring into the abyss; the kind of dark, gloomy place that if you dwell too long upon it, it could suck out your soul and feed it to the Abyss Gremlins that lurked in the shadows, waiting for the next poor human to stumble along.

I opened the door all the way, and was hit with the stench of some type of rotting animal. I yanked out my nose plug from my pocket and clamped it on in haste. Sighing in relief of not having to smell the repulsive scent anymore, I took a step inside the large, cluttered closet, and immediately wished I hadn't.

Even wearing heavy duty work boots, as jokingly suggested by Edward (but I took him seriously, which was an excellent idea on my part), I felt the squiiiiisssshhh beneath the thick rubber.

I decided to take a look, to see what I had just stepped in. I didn't want to, but it had to be done.

I lifted my boot, getting a clear view of the bottom, and groaned.

Why did my mother have the container of Chinese noodles from dinner two weeks ago in her closet?

I bent down and picked up a hanger off the floor, using the hooked end to scrape off the mouldy noodles and whipping the hanger a good distance behind me.

"Disgusting," I mumbled under my breath.

I continued my venture through the wreckage, digging through the chaos and confusion my mother liked to call her closet. Occasionally I would trip over something and fall against my mother's clothing, which was hanging up. At this, I would grip onto whatever I could reach and pull myself back up.

But once, it didn't happen that way.

I was lost in one of her frilly blue dresses, trying to find my way out. In my frantic search for freedom from the sea of frilly blue-ness, I stumbled upon something. What that something was, I wasn't completely sure. But I tripped nonetheless, and was sent tumbling towards the floor.

Now, touching the actual floor of my mom's closet with my feeble and sensitive skin was one thing I was not willing to do. Yet, it happened just the same, and I almost whimpered. Almost.

My hands were submerged in a hot, semi-liquid mess, and my knees hit something very hard, sending a jolt of pain throughout my legs. I lifted my head and it thumped against another something. I sighed.

Did I really need these magazines? I could always find out how to impress a girl some other way.

Defeated, I crawled backwards, keeping my head down, and headed towards the light of my mom's room.

I emerged from the closet, happy that I had survived the whole ordeal. I stood up and glanced down at my hands, realizing that the hot liquid they were covered in when I fell was actually melted cheese.

I shut the closet door, vowing to never take on that monster again. I took off my nose plug and inhaled the fresh, clean air. Wiping my cheesy hands on my pants, I was about to leave the room when I noticed something sitting on my mother's bed. I took a few steps closer and groaned loudly.

There, lying on my mother's queen-sized bed in all their glory, were the magazines.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

A few hours later, I was curled up in my bed, reading my mother's Cosmo. It was my fourth Cosmo in a row, and as I was reading, I was taking notes.

'On what?' you may ask.

I was taking notes on what girls liked to see in a guy; what they expect. Here is an excerpt of said notes:

Jasper's Notes about Girls:

What they look for:

Looks

Who the guy hangs out with

Personality (e.g. funny, smart)

The guy has to make her feel good about herself

Confidence

Has to take care of himself

Money?

He has to be able to cook (WHAT?)

Unselfishness- always think about her and her feelings first.

One line in the last Cosmo stood out to me.

Be mysterious.

I read over these notes until I had them memorized. I had checked them off in my head.

'Looks' I had down. Not to be conceited, but I knew I was fairly good-looking. My shaggy blonde hair and sparkly hazel eyes did me justice. I was skinny, yet muscular and was 5'11", and, as a bonus, I had a clear complexion. One time, when I was at the mall, someone approached me and asked if I wanted to be in their photo-shoot for (get this!) Abercrombie.

I told them no thank you, because I already had been offered a job in France as a model. And they actually believed me. It has been an inside joke between Edward and I ever since.

'Who the guy hangs out with' was next on the list. I wasn't too worried about that, especially since the girl I had bumped into had been new to the school. She didn't know anyone yet, I was sure of it.

I hung out with practically everyone at school. The jocks, the preps, the geeks, the Goths. I talked with them all, and they all liked me. I just wished the new girl would too.

Next was 'Personality.' I was smart; getting all A's on my report cards. I was caring and loving, and wouldn't have any problem making her laugh. I had a nice family, a good home, and was generally a happy person. I just hoped that I was her type.

Numbers four, five, six, seven and nine were definitely not a problem. I had confidence and took care of myself very well. I had plenty of money because I had a part-time job.

But me? COOKING? That was crazy. Surely, not all girls like a man who can cook. If so, I was screwed. My mom did all of the cooking at home, and whenever she was gone, Edward, my step-dad, and I ordered in. Only one conclusion could come of this: I had to buy some recipe books and give cooking a try.

The last thing, that I had the most trouble with, was: Be mysterious.

How was a supposed to "be mysterious"? Do I lurk around corners and mumble words? I had no idea. So, I decided to wing it. Tomorrow, at school, I would "be mysterious."

Whatever that meant, I thought.

Bella's Point Of View

I ordered the pizza while my Dad shot me furtive glances. I think he was afraid I would beat him up if he didn't name everyone in town, or more specifically, all the boys at school.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Bells?"

"Pizza will be here in twenty minutes."

"Okay." I sat at the table, and gave my father a meaningful glance. He looked away, at the time on the microwave.

"So…pizza will be here in twenty minutes?"

"Dad." He looked at me innocently. I narrowed my eyes.

"Bells…I'm going to take a nap."

"Dad! How did you know about the boy at school?" This was a question that had occurred to me after my intense excitement about almost knowing his name. So far, my Dad had avoided the question.

"I may have…uh…"

"May have what, Dad?"

"May have….uh…noticed….uh…apieceofpaperwi thboysnamesonit …"

"You didn't! Dad!" All the blood rushed to my face, and I don't think I had ever blushed so hard.

"I think the pizza's here." And with that he left, even though there was no way the pizza could be here. So I sat at the table and wondered if there was an abyss nearby that I could disappear into.

School the next day was a disappointment of epic proportions. My alarm didn't go off, so I was late to first period and got a detention; my Dad felt guilty about the boy incident so he "cooked" me a lunch for school that hurt my stomach; and I thought the gorgeous, nameless boy might be gay.
The reason for this last was the boy that he hung out with. My new friend Jessica pointed out another boy, sitting at a lunch table alone. She had been pointing people out to me in the cafeteria all week.

"Okay…see that boy over there, in the corner?"

"With the baggy black sweater? And…is that a pocket protector on the shirt underneath?"

"Yeah. He likes to think he's a gangster, but he's really a mathlete."

"What's his name?"

"Roland," she said, munching on a potato chip.

"He's cute in a weird way," I mumbled, staring at Roland, noticing the strong line of his jaw, and the shaggy brown hair falling into his vividly green eyes.

"Don't waste your time," she said, giggling. "Roland's gay."

Of course he is, I thought. I checked my watch and groaned. Time for my detention. I stood up, picking up my tray and smiling to Jessica.

"See you, Jessica. I have a detention to serve," I said. She waved a 'goodbye.'

I took my time dumping my tray and walking toward room 214. The detention was stupid and a waste of my precious time. It's not like I would learn a lesson from it.

I opened the door, slowly, and entered room 214. I realized it wasn't an old, stuffy, detention room, like I had thought. It was the school's library. There were shelves and shelves of books lining the walls. The smell of paper and ink filled the air, and the low humming of a printer could be heard from the photo-copy room.

I slid my detention slip into the tiny mailbox after the librarian signed it and took a seat near the Adult-Fiction section.

I crossed my arms and leaned back in the chair, the back being supported by one of the many shelves. I sighed.

Suddenly, the library door swung open again, and a tall, gorgeous, blonde boy with hazel eyes walked in.

It was him. So, of course, I tipped my chair to the side and fell to the floor. Blushing, thankful that I hadn't knocked the shelf behind me over, I slowly stood up and righted the evil, evil chair. Looking around, I don't think anyone noticed. Except…was the blonde boy snickering? Oh, god…

Luckily, he didn't say anything to me. He just sat down at a desk, put his head down and appeared to fall asleep immediately.

I grabbed a random book off of the shelf, and tried to read it. It was minute before I realized the book was upside down. Realizing that anything that required my attention not to be on the boy a few tables away was going to be impossible, I put the book back. Instead I grabbed my notebook and tried to draw a rose.

I was very intensely aware that he was right there and that, theoretically, I could talk to him. I could even learn his name! The thought of this possibility made me want to dance with excitement and nervous energy and run away in terror. Instead, I smiled to myself, wondering how I could like him so much, when I hardly knew him.

A few minutes later, Roland walked into the room. I paid no attention to him until he walked up to the sleeping boy, smacked him in the head and said, "Yo, Jazzaaay! What's your ass doing in the library, man?"

"I was late for first. Leave me alone." He didn't lift his head, and his voice was a sleepy mumble, but still…my arms were covered in goose-bumps.

"Where were you this morning, then, man? I waited," he said, smacking him on the head again.

"I slept through my alarm." His voice was more awake-sounding now, and a thought was slowly dawning on me.

"Dude, what were you doin'?" Roland's voice was still upset, but he was no longer smacking the boy's shoulder. I wondered….

"I couldn't sleep. I was thinking about…" The blonde boy looked at me, then turned his eyes back to Roland. Blushing, I turned my eyes to my notebook and shaded in the rose petals.

"Man, that head of yours is always filled with shit. What was it this time?" Now Roland sounded half amused, half concerned. Again, I wondered…

"Just….nothing. Never mind." I thought he looked at me again. But, I couldn't be sure.

"Man, we still on for later?" Roland asked as he sat down across from the boy. Part of me wished he would just say the boy's name; the other was too busy thinking…wondering…

"No, I've got to work." I wondered where the boy worked. Maybe I could "accidentally' go there.

"Oh, c'mon! We were supposed to hook up later!" Roland reached across to smack the boy again, but the boy pulled back and missed him. Nice reflexes, I thought.

"I know. I'm sorry. Look…we can see the movie, tomorrow, right? We can go then."

"Dude, you ridiculous. Bullshit, man, but fine." They both laughed then, and the thought I had been trying to ignore popped into my head.

What if the boy, this beautiful blonde boy, was gay?

Well…review! Pretty please?