Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "Midnight In Her Eyes" as performed by The Black Keys, and I will not be earning income from using these materials. I do, however, own the storyline and any original characters. Thank you.

A/N: As stated before, here are the main character's ages during this chapter, just to clear up any questions. This will be last time they're given. Promise.

Bella: 23 years old
Edward: 26 years old
Emmett: 28 years old

Chapter Three:
Midnight In Her Eyes

I see her everywhere
Long amber hair
Calling out my name
I'm calling just the same

"Midnight In Her Eyes" – The Black Keys

x0x0x0x0x0x

Nine Years Later

"Hey, Bells, you want 'em all in your room, or just the ones that say 'room'?"

Rolling my eyes, I ran the back of my hand across my forehead in an attempt to wipe away the salty liquid that had decided to congregate there. Sadly, the action served only to pool more sweat above my eyebrows, which then proceeded to drip directly into my eyes. I growled under my breath. Damn southern humidity. And me with no AC. Where was my good-for-nothing roommate when I needed her?

As I stood from my crouched position next to the disassembled iron pieces of what should have been my bed, I realized with disdain that my entire body was encased in a thin layer of sticky sweat, which then proceeded to coat everything I touched. Good grief. I fingered the slick allen wrench – also disgustingly covered in my sweat – and swiped a stray bit of hair from my mouth.

"Do you think I would have labeled them 'kitchen' if I wanted them in my bedroom?" My bone-straight brown hair was slipping from its pony tail under its own sweaty weight as I marched my way down the stairs of the townhouse apartment. I stared into the foyer, tiny fists clenched against my hips in an attempt to make my willowy, five-foot-four frame look intimidating. I then stuck out my tongue. "Learn to read, Emmett McCarty."

Emmett heaved the two boxes in his arms on top of two other boxes that were already stacked on top of each other and scowled playfully.

"Honestly, Bells, I just kinda figured the only place you'd have to put stuff would be in your room. How the hell does one person have so much cra – ow!"

A small hand shot out from behind Emmett's massive frame and simultaneously swatted at the base of the neck and clawed at his ear as its tiny owner quickly slipped between him and the door frame.

"It's not crap, Godzilla," the owner of the hand spat. Her tiny black flats practically slid across the hardwood floor in her rush to wrap her arms around my neck and throw us both into a disheveled heap on the carpeted landing. "I'm sooooo glad you're here!" she squealed at a pitch only dogs should have been able to hear.

Unfortunately, her squeal occurred directly beside my ear and I flinched away, dragging Alice with me and smacking us both into the edge of the bottom step, irregardless of her iron grip on my upper body.

"Down, girl," I chuckled, hugging the wiry girl back tightly in spite of of my protestations.

"So this little brat is your new roomie?" Emmett whined and I looked up to find him rubbing his ear, which had turned a pretty shade of tomato red. Alice released my neck and stood to her feet in one graceful movement, curtsying.

"The one and only." Her light southern drawl echoed in her petite voice. She leaned over to take my hand and pull me from the floor, as only a polite southern lady would, and then sauntered into the fully furnished living room, tossing a small beaded clutch onto the enormous chaise lounge.

"And don't think you didn't deserve it." She paused and swiped her hand across her forehead. "You two really should have turned the AC on," her voice echoed behind her as she traipsed past the kitchen, flicked open a cabinet, peered inside for a few seconds, and then finally disappeared through a doorway into another room. I heard the air rush through the vents in her wake.

Emmett raised an eyebrow in disbelief and whistled through his teeth.

"Geez, Bells. Looks like you may get your wish after all." I raised an eyebrow in question as I lifted the lighter kitchen box into my arms and started through the living room, Emmett trailing behind me with the other two boxes. "My visiting hours will seriously diminish if the shrew doesn't pull out her talons and find a sense of humor sometime soon."

I frowned, completely ignoring the knocks on Alice. Not everyone loved her for her abrupt and overt personality as much as I did.

"I never said I wanted to see you less," I pouted.

"You sure as hell aren't showing it, moving all the way across the country," he shot back.

The disapproving tone dripped through his words and I clenched my jaw, physically restraining myself from rolling my eyes and hissing at the one friend I still had besides Alice. It wouldn't matter anyhow. He'd never understand. And, if I were to be truly honest with myself, I hoped beyond everything that he never would.

Instead, I bit my bottom lip and finished the trek to the huge, impeccably designed, fully stocked kitchen and set my one measly box down on the countertop. I spun around and leaned up against the granite island, grabbing two perfectly matched kitchen towels from where they hung on the pot rack and tossed one to Emmett, along with a pleadingly sympathetic look.

"Look, Em … you know." I rubbed the material across my neck and then around my face, squeezing my eyes shut. I knew every detail of the look he'd see on my face. It was one that I had perfected after years of careful practice – an image of calm relaxation that was, most importantly, okay. "You know I couldn't stay there. There's nothing on that coast for me anymore. Besides," I threw the cloth down on the countertop, "It's a great job offer. And it came at the perfect time." I smiled automatically, throwing waves of contentment his way.

The pain that throbbed behind my words stayed hidden. I heard him sigh in defeat.

"Fine. But you know how we all feel about this, Bells –"

My eyes snapped open, my calm gone.

"We?" I barked a sharp laugh. "Em, I know you give a shit, but there is no 'we' to consider. A once a year phone call does not exactly make her front runner for 'mother-of-the-year,' much less give her permission to be involved in my life." I swept past Emmett, grabbing another box from the foyer and marching up the stairs towards my room.

"Bella," I heard Emmett's low, irritated moan at the same time I heard his massive frame stomp up the stairs behind me and into my room. I let the hefty box fall from my arms to burst on the floor, one side of the cardboard ripping open to release a landslide of books. I grabbed the allen wrench out of my pocket and went back to working furiously on the mismatched pieces of metal. Emmett's footfalls stopped on the inside of my doorframe.

"Bells, you know I didn't mean it that way." A sigh. "Mom, Dad, Angela, Ben … and me. We're gonna miss you like crazy." Another sigh at my obvious attempt to ignore him.

I knew I was being unreasonable – volatile, even – but that didn't stop me from feeling it. Anger and sarcasm, irrational or not, were the only emotions I didn't have to hide. Even if it meant that I was kind of completely intentionally hiding behind them, as Alice loved to state when I wanted to physically maim her.

The hard metal of the wrench clanked loudly against the metal of the bed frame and slipped from my hand, jamming my knuckles into the upturned ledge. I hissed, bringing the scraped knuckles to my lips. My eyes watered sharply, and a blaze of anger licked up even hotter until a soft hand on the top of my head doused the flame. I released a pent up breath and removed the offended knuckles from my mouth.

"I know, Em. I'm sorry." I blinked back the water that lined the edges of my lids. I had kept the tears at bay for nine years; there was no way they were going to get through now. Emmett's giant hand ran backwards through my hair, yanking my disastrously deceased ponytail into its final stages of mortality and flinging the rubber band onto my knee.

"Of course you're sorry … I know how sad you'll be not to see this handsomeness every weekend," Emmet gestured to his body and then proceeded to thrust his pelvis towards my face and strike his best (and the most ridiculous) underwear model pose. A small smile, partially formed in disgust, slipped through as I looked up at my best friend. I resisted the urge to sock him in the nuts.

"Besides," he dropped the stance and crouched next to me, snatching the allen wrench from my hand, "It really is a great job. With perfect timing."

"I know." I snickered and grabbed a second allen wrench from the pile of screws, nuts, and bolts. "Also, just know, if you ever stick your crotch in my face again – I will have your nuts either on my camera or in my hand. And yes, you can take that as a promise." I pulled my hair off of my neck, rewound my ponytail, and pulled the metal rods back into my lap to continue my work.

I saw Emmett throw a long, somewhat nervous glance my way as he proceeded to piece together his side of the bed, but the two of us continued to work in silence until my flamboyant roommate flounced in the door twenty minutes later. I had just finished yanking the last screw into place as Emmett threw the box spring and mattress onto the frame – a flying Alice coming rather sequentially after it.

Her mid-thigh length peasant skirt billowed out as she leaped onto the newly completed structure and then rolled over onto her back, lifting her upper body by her forearms and turning to grin at me.

"No," I shook my head immediately, pulling myself to my feet and moving to reposition the book avalanche I had created earlier from the floor to its proper home on the bookshelf.

"Yes," she replied, and I rolled my eyes in resignation – I knew that tone well from our days at the Academy of Art in San Francisco. It was the tone she had inherited from her southern-money-born-and-bred mother, the epitome of politely overbearing authority that no one within hearing range would dare disobey.

"It's your first night in the city, and from the non-appearance of mister double-fives, I think a night on the town is in order – the obligatory antidote for breakups and boring weekend nights." She smiled sweetly and pushed herself off the bed, strolling over to my closet and beginning to hang up the clothing that hadn't already been unpacked.

I rolled my eyes at Alice's seeming assistance and her mention of my latest fling, Bryant, while brushing the slightest pinch of discomfort out of my system (even I hadn't really thought he would last) and opening my mouth to cite jet-lag as a plausible excuse. Unfortunately, Emmett beat me to the punch and the words that spilled from his lips were not what I was expecting.

"That's a great idea, Bells!"

The enthusiasm in his voice was undeniable and my mouth dropped open in shock. I spun around to find him offering Alice a secretive two-thumbs up and the book in my hand automatically flew at his head. Emmett ducked, expecting the blow. The book bashed harmlessly off of the wall.

I threw like a girl.

Scowling, I turned towards Alice who was organizing my closet by occasion, designer, season, and color, in descending order.

"He wasn't number fifty-five," I humphed, crossing my arms over my chest and completely ignoring the other subject altogether. "And what, you can't even learn their names now?"

She shrugged her tiny shoulders and continued sorting through my clothing.

"Yes, he was, believe me, I've kept count since freshman year, and honestly, after number thirty-two I really couldn't see the point. Besides … they started coming and going way too fast." She turned and looked at me pointedly. "I bet you can't remember all their names either."

"I—" I floundered, finally landing on the bed, deflated. "Fine. Where are we going?"

Alice hung the last item on the rack in my closet and turned, her bright green eyes lighting up and a wide, genuine smile plastered onto her face.

"Really, Bella, you'll go?" She leaped onto the bed behind me and wrapped her arms around my chest. "You're going to have the best time!"

I laughed, unable to resist the anticipation, a la Alice.

"Alright, okay, but seriously, where are we going?" I pried her hands from around my waist and leaned back against the bottom bed post, eyes shut.

"Rosie's fiancé's band is playing at Primal tonight, around eleven, for their Most Wanted Saturdays, and I can't wait for them to meet you." Her enthusiasm practically radiated into the room. "I know Rose and Trevor will just love you!"

Rose, better known to Southern society as Rosalie Whitlock, was Alice's ex-roommate, and her fiancé was the reason I was moving in. The two were getting married in three months and had decided that Rosalie moving into their future apartment early was the best plan, leaving Alice with an empty spot and me with a place to live in order to take up my new photography job.

However, the fact that Alice and Rosalie had been attached at more than just the hip for many years before I ever came along and stole Alice's attention in college was more than enough to provide a sense of weariness at whether or not said former roommate would "love" me as much as Alice claimed. I needed an out, just in case.

"Emmett?" I knew my eyes were pleading, but he held up his hands and stepped backwards, physically bracing himself for my wrath. "You got me into this!"

"I'm sorry, Bells, I gotta catch a flight at 8:30 back to LA. All the coaches have a meeting with the Board of Directors at USC tomorrow morning." He shrugged apologetically. I knew my face had fallen because I could see it in his eyes, but Alice chose that precise moment to begin bouncing on her knees behind me in an excitement that was hard to resist.

"Perfect! We'll have dinner at 6:00 at Top Flr and then you and I can go shopping for some more … appropriate attire, and then meet Rose at Primal at ten."

Ideas blossomed.

"You know, Alice, I think I'll just be more than comfortable in jeans."

The gasp of utter astonishment was all the reward I needed. I felt the bed shudder as the small interior designer to my left pretended to fall out in shock. Emmett just laughed.

"Isabella Marie Swan," she griped into the comforter, finally lifting herself off of the bed and bouncing to her feet, "I will not allow you out of the house and into the hottest club in Atlanta on a Saturday night in a pair of jeans!" Her small foot punctuated her statement with a delicate stomp. "Now, I'm going to my room to get ready and monkey man here can make himself at home on the couch. We will be leaving in forty-five minutes."

Alice ran a hand through her long black hair and blew out a sigh. Her constant smile reappeared as she gave me a quick hug, nearly sprinted from the room, and tossed her words behind her. "I know you're going to have a great time tonight, Bella. Just wait and see!"

"I wouldn't bet money on it," I murmured. Emmett began to laugh. I raised an eyebrow. "You're the one who got me into this, you bastard," I scowled shoving him through the doorway and turning to my closet as Emmett closed the door behind him. Still laughing too hard to protest.

Exactly forty-two minutes and five hours later, I had said goodbye to the closest family I had and successfully averted near disaster by convincing Alice that it was more beneficial for me to be seen in something less ostentatious than her bright red and white, single-strap mini. Instead, I managed to work my way into a strapless, thigh length black dress with a whale-boned corset and crinoline edging that actually wasn't horrible.

From the passenger seat, I heard Alice tap her heeled foot on the gas pedal in impatience as I took my time applying a light sheen of ice blue shadow. I was considering slowing down even more when she let out a strangled groan.

"Bella! You're taking forever."

Rolling my eyes, I rubbed on the finishing touches and snapped the lid shut, raising my eyebrows in the mirror as I pinned back the a few bits of stray hair that had fallen out of my loose bun.

"And you're acting like a three year old on chocolate and crack," I replied, flipping the visor closed and throwing Alice a pointed look. "What's so important that you're practically clawing to get out of the car, anyhow?"

Alice crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her tongue out at me.

"For your information, I wanted you to meet Trevor and the band before the performance, but now that it's past ten thirty, I guess we'll just have to wait till after." She paused, followed by an exasperated sigh. "Are you done yet?"

I smiled to myself, rifling through my small beaded clutch to make sure I only had cash and my id, snapped it shut, and opened the door to the car.

"Now I am," I replied, climbing from the vehicle and following the little pixie who wasted no time in shooting around to my side, grabbing me by the arm, and practically dragging me towards the front of the line that extended around the side of the building. I had never been gladder that my powers of persuasion had convinced the fashion guru to allow me to wear strappy, two-inch heels – I would have been on my face faster than we had left the car in Alice's five-inch pumps.

Within seconds, we had approached the bouncer, Alice had given her name, and I was whirled into an enormous room, complete with live music, an extensively stocked bar, low lighting, and complementary smoker's haze. I looked around as Alice kept hold of my hand and dragged me towards the bar, and I had to admit I was fairly impressed. So far, it trumped most every club I had been to on the west coast by a mile.

Then again, I probably could have never gotten within a mile of a club of this rank on the west coast.

Being a VIP had its perks.

By the time my amateur fascination with my surroundings had faded to the back of my mind, I realized that both Alice and a blonde, kind-looking man standing behind the bar were staring at me expectantly. I opened my mouth and abruptly shut it, glancing sheepishly at Alice who rolled her eyes.

"Drink, Bella," she motioned towards the blonde whose blue eyes sparkled with amusement. "Jasper here can make you whatever you want. He's the best bartender this side of the Mississippi." She grinned. He looked down and then glanced back to me. I raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I've been a lot further than the Mississippi, so let's see how you stack up against San Francisco, shall we?" I saw Alice roll her eyes again. Jasper's eyes narrowed and his face lit up in amusement.

"I'm always up for a challenge," he replied, the warmest southern drawl highlighting his words. He threw a hand towel over his shoulder and grinned cockily, rubbing his hands together. "Take your best shot." He winked at me. "On the house."

I liked him already.

"Let's go for a gin martini, extra dry, shaken, not stirred, with three olives. And make it a double."

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded and the corners of his eyes wrinkled when his smile grew larger.

The breath was sucked out of my lungs, the sudden similarity hitting me square in the chest and shoving a little more salt in the barely open wound.

The same eyes, only green and flecked with gold, the edges crinkled and … alive.

A sharp pain in my left hand pulled me back to reality where I realized that my inhales were coming in short puffs and Alice was staring at me, hints of worry in her bright green orbs. I glanced sideways, glad to see that Jasper was off mixing my drink, forced my breathing to slow itself, and nodded at my slightly stricken friend, easing her fears with my carefully practiced comfort smile.

She nodded back and squeezed my hand again, taking a short sip of her favorite drink, the Naked Cowgirl. I was almost positive she ordered it just to see the look on the bartender's face. She then returned to scanning the crowd, presumably searching for her ex-roommate.

My eyes moved back to the bar, definitely searching for my drink.

Just as the tall blonde bartender walked back over with what looked like perfection in a martini glass, I heard a small squeal from my left and my barstool shook ever so slightly.

"Rose!" Alice called out next to me, lifting her small frame as high as she could and waving one hand delicately in the air. Smiling and thanking Jasper, I took one long sip and drained half of the drink, willing the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach to dissipate. Unfortunately, the liquid courage needed more time to work its magic, and I turned to face my could-be adversary on my own.

The sight that parted the crowd like the red sea and greeted my waiting eyes caused whatever was rolling around in my stomach to drop dead and a hurricane worthy of destroying the state of Texas to begin churning in its place.

The sleek, classic blonde with legs up to her forehead strode through the crowd, a shimmering and lustrous candy apple red dress that had stepped straight off of the Christian Dior runway hanging perfectly at mid-thigh. The scalloped neck and straps emphasized a beautiful collar bone and her radiant blonde hair hung in lose, wavy ringlets that cascaded midway down her back.

Her open-toed black pumps looked as if they had been designed not only for the dress, but also for her feet, elegantly caressing her heels and stopping at the perfect point along her toes, which were painted a flawlessly matching shade of red. And as she approached, I realized that those legs were not only figurative – her nearly five-foot-ten stature made them quite literal as well.

I suddenly wished my heels were a lot taller.

The tall blonde smiled brightly as she embraced Alice, who remained on the barstool; she was taller there than with the extra four inches her shoes allowed her.

"What'll it be, Rose?" Jasper's southern drawl suddenly appeared behind my shoulder. I flinched as she turned to look in my direction.

"Does a mango mojito sound plausible tonight, Jazz?" Her blonde locks fell across her shoulder as she tilted her head and offered up a sweetly coy smile.

"Of course, babe," he winked, slipping off behind the bar top. I glanced away, drawing another long sip from my glass. At this rate, my free drink wouldn't last me much longer. Alice's tinkling laugh rang out beside me.

"Why do you even ask, Rose? You know Jasper'd do anything for you."

Rosalie's warm voice rang saccharine sweet.

"What? There's nothing he wouldn't do for you too."

As Alice laughed again, much more enthusiastically than the comment seemed to warrant, I saw the long legs pace past me. They took a seat on the barstool near mine and I looked up to find a raised eyebrow and a cool smile. Her proffered hand hung in the air between us.

"Nice to meet you …"

"Bella," I filled in, sitting my drink next to me and thanking my guardian angel that the glass slid down the raised edge of the bar and didn't dump into my lap. Alice would have sacrificed me to the fashion god on that very bar.

At the mention of my name, Rosalie's prettily painted lips slid into a round "o." I would have sworn the warmth in her eyes dropped by a few degrees and a guarded look slid up her face as Jasper sat her drink in front of her.

"Thanks," she mumbled, slipping her hand from my grasp and prying her eyes from my face a few seconds later.

"No problem, sis."

Sis. Sister. Wow.

I turned to face the bar just as Jasper offered me a smile and gestured to my nearly empty glass. I could suddenly see the family resemblance in his perfect blonde hair and strong jaw line.

"So, how do I rank up in the competition?"

I popped the last olive into my mouth and smiled, glad to have my attention drawn from the sudden ice queen to my right.

"Well, although Alice has been known to exaggerate in the past," I threw my roommate a sideways glance and then turned back to the bartender, "I'd say she was right on par this time. That was the best martini I've ever had – west or east coast."

Jasper's smile grew even larger and I saw Alice relax immediately, her small stature swelling in what almost seemed like … pride? I snickered to myself in sudden realization and began running through embarrassing matchmaking plans in my head when Rosalie interrupted my train of thought.

"Then why don't you order another?" She smiled, but it seemed forced, and I was slightly disappointed that my initial fears hadn't been wrong. I grinned back at Jasper, whose personality seemed to be the exact opposite of his sibling, and raised my eyebrow, gesturing towards the martini glass.

"Coming right up," he replied, removing the glass from the bar top and leaving to attend to other customers and mix my next martini. I turned back to find Rosalie eyeing me again. The alcohol must have finally taken hold, because I swiveled on my seat to face her head on and propped my elbow on the bar, challenging her with my eyes. Hers narrowed ever so slightly in return.

"Um, Bells, Rose, I'm gonna run to the powder room, okay?" Alice's voice was slightly strained behind me, but I didn't remove my eyes from the woman sitting across from me as I felt Alice's presence vanish.

"So," Rose sat back against her barstool, relaxing ever so slightly but continuing to eye me up and down. I had the distinct feeling that tonight was a make or break situation when it came to her friendship. She took a sip of her mojito.

"You're engaged?" I offered, attempting to start the conversation off by misdirecting to a topic she would hopefully be interested in. I saw her nod, looking off to the stage in the far corner of the club.

"To the lead guitarist," she replied, nodding in the band's direction. I saw a thin man bent over an amplifier as the rest of the band seemed to be ready to start. Rosalie looked back at me. She hadn't taken the bait. "You moved here to start a new job, right?"

I nodded, deciding to play along. The faster she knew I wasn't here to take her place as Alice's one and only, the faster she would plant her claws in someone else. Hell, we might even become good acquaintances.

"I needed to get away from California – LA, Hollywood. Not exactly my scene. Besides," I swallowed another sip from the martini Jasper had just set down on the bar, "a job as a photography editor for Spin Magazine isn't exactly something you pass up." I shrugged. "Alice just happened to have a vacancy." I smiled at her, trying to force something genuine into my gaze. I wasn't sure how well I succeeded. "So … thanks."

Rosalie eyed me again, smiling slightly and raising her glass to me as recognition of my gratitude and took a long draw.

"That's not the only reason she left LA," Alice stepped in-between the two of us, smiling conspiratorially at Rosalie, who returned the look and glanced back at me, her guard rising again. "She'd already conquered the single male of the western frontier," the little pixie laughed, "now she needs to see what she can find on the east coast!"

I felt my cheeks burst into flame as I placed the martini glass to my lips and stared through to the bottom of the clear liquid. Alice was going to pay for that.

When I looked back up, Rosalie was staring at me in amusement, Alice leaning against the bar between us and still laughing into her drink. She never could hold her alcohol.

"Not to be intrusive," Rosalie motioned towards me, "but what's your count?"

"Excuse me?" I raised an eyebrow, the flame in my cheeks running higher from shame mixed with copious amounts of liquor. Alice, once again, answered for me.

"Oh, she doesn't have one," she motioned absently, closing her eyes and bobbing her head to the classic Journey cover that the crowd was going wild for. "Little miss virginal, here. Bella's never been past first base with all fifty-five."

She had to yell louder with each word, didn't she? Punk-ass … I now had an obligation to put her through some torment with this Jasper-thing, Ashton Kutcher style.

Rosalie eyed me with even more interest than before.

"Fifty-five?" It was a question of astonishment. "Wow Bella … that's … quite a number."

I wished I could drown in my martini. Forget payment. Alice was dead to me.

"I just – I haven't –" I stuttered, breathing in and regrouping myself mentally. This one little slip would not destroy me. "I haven't really figured out what I'm looking for yet."

Rosalie nodded, visibly amused.

"Obviously," she grinned into her drink when Alice's hands suddenly flew from out of nowhere and grabbed on to both Rosalie's and my leg.

"Finally! They're doing some original stuff and Trevor's starting them off," she squealed, bouncing slightly on her toes and looking to Rosalie, whose visage softened clearly. The loud strum of a guitar rang through the air, followed by the opening chords. The sound floated inside the low hum of the crowd and I turned back to the bar. My mind was racing for both a way to destroy my best friend and to recoup from the awful disaster she had created.

"Midnight is in her eyes …"

Someone must have either really liked the glasses inside of that particular bar or known that I would need the alcohol they contained, because my martini was sitting on the bar top inside of my grasp when I froze, my gaze fixed on the bottles of liquor lining the mirrored wall.

"Tear drops like a child … you never thought about goin' wrong … Now you wonder where your man has gone …"

It came from my memory at the same time as it swirled around me now, blending together in perfect harmony – only the words were different, the meaning lost in the sound of his voice. I had to turn around. I had to turn around and prove myself wrong. My dead best friend had not suddenly come back to life, singing to me inside of this trendy bar in uptown Atlanta.

"Midnight is in her eyes."

But I stayed frozen, unable to turn and end the dream that would be cut short by reality. My eyes slid shut and my hand automatically pulled to my collarbone, my head tilting back in pleasure as the voice blended with the music and wafted across my spellbound state.

"Lately you're feeling low … Heartache on the floor … your manic ways have got the best of you, but your heart is gonna see you through …"

Finally the chorus ended and the guitar solo took over, the notes strung out in the air as most of the crowd jumped and cheered. Released from my trance, I dropped my eyes to the bar, shocked at the speed at which my pulse raced. A part of me was already searching for his face in my mind, begging me to look up, find him, and run to him.

I buried that part under the reality that it was Rosalie's fiancé Trevor that had provided the heartbreaking memories through the sound of his voice. This, along with the solid reality that I had stood by his coffin, screamed at his graveside, and told him for many years that he was a coward for breaking his promise, was my mantra for many moments. But, for some reason, my memories still defied me and, for the safety of my own sanity, I refused to look beyond the liquor balanced steadily in my hand – until Alice took my other hand.

"Isn't he amazing, Bella! Adorable, too," she grinned, turning my barstool and pushing my head towards the stage.

Later, when I had time to consider it, I was surprised I didn't go into cardiac arrest.

For the moment, all I could see was a shock of dark auburn hair, made darker by the light amount of sweat from standing under hot stage lights. His eyes were shut as his fingers raced across the strings, finishing up the series of solos. Then he leaned back towards the mic and opened his mouth, sliding across the notes that stung with the guitar and dragged nails through my stomach and across my soul.

"I see her everywhere … long amber hair … calling out my name … I'm calling just the same …"

His eyelids parted – emerald green so bright that I could see them from across the smoky haze, almost more familiar to me than my own reflection. They bored into me, a brilliantly beautiful smile lighting his entire face and shining though his eyes. His head turned in our direction and he seemed to be staring at me, through me, into what was me. Singing. To me. For me.

"…it's in her eyes … midnight … is in her … eyes …"

My heart skipped three full beats and I almost slid from the barstool.

"Bella?" I vaguely heard Alice mumble something next to me, but my comprehension was lost in his gaze. It wasn't. It couldn't. I had seen it … seen him buried, seen everything, memories that were still so real to me almost ten years later, I fought them back every day.

But … it was.

The memories strangled me, the kind of pain that numbs your entire body until somehow nothing seems centered or real. The whispered word slipped from my lips, ripping the shallow wound in my heart wide open and into shredded pieces before I could even think to stop it.

"Edward?"

Who thinks ghosts are scary?