Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "Animal" as performed by Neon Trees, 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: Okay, making this as quick as possible, because I have to head out but I felt bad enough for not getting this out last night! I really DO have an excuse - our power went out, leaving me internet-less and computer-less, so I hope no one is upset with me! On the other hand, the extra wait makes this one of the longer chapters, with a lot moving forward, so hopefully this can make you happy!

A special thank you to the miraculous Beta-Mom, clarabella75 (I'll find you those Bubble-Print Chucks and e-mail them to you for Christmas :D) and my awesome new fic-wife, Puppymama0909. Yes, we got married! As congratulations, you should go read her stuff, cause she writes great non-cannon, even for those who are cannon lovers like I.

As always, thank you SO MUCH to all of my AWESOME reviewers, my great readers, and everyone who has taken the time to love this as much as I do. You are ALL stunning.

Don't forget to check out my profile for awesome eye candy and to join in the best party ever over at FFA!

Chapter Nine:
Satisfaction Never Guaranteed

Here we go again
I kinda wanna be more than friends
So take it easy on me
I'm afraid I'm never satisfied
Here we go again
We're sick like animals
We play pretend
You're just a cannibal
And I'm afraid I won't get out alive …

We both can't fight it
It's us that made this mess
Why can't you understand?

"Animal" – Neon Trees

At 14, when my world crashed in on itself, I had Edward to wrap me in my comforter and find me in the midst of my tragedy. More than I understood, he saved me.

At 15, when everything shattered again and I ventured off on a journey towards insanity, I had Emmett to hold my hand and tape together the pieces he managed to find. In his way, he saved me.

At 23, when I was certain denial was not just a river in Egypt, and I finally arrived in crazy town, I had Alice to pick me up and point me towards the light of hope and salvation. As much as she didn't know, she saved me.

This time, I had no one to find me, to duct tape my pieces, to pick me up and show me the way.

No one could save me.

The late afternoon sun crept in through my open window, beams highlighting soft colors in the wood floor and illuminating dancing dust mites. Autumn breezes shifted around translucent red curtains, their ends billowing out to catch on the bed frame.

The light shifted around me, fading into nonexistence and leaving its cool chill in the darkened room. I hiked my knees up to my chest and crossed my ankles, tucking my chin into my knees. Chill bumps raced up my legs. My gym shorts and t-shirt didn't cover enough for a fall evening.

I sat.

As I sat, I thought, and as I thought, my gaze never wavered. I was fixated on the black wooden box, no longer than my forearm, no wider than the breadth of my hand, sitting, in the corner, on the top shelf of my closet.

The steel lock had glinted tauntingly in the sunlight, but now it lay dull and dim. I couldn't bring myself to touch it, to caress the cold, smooth surface and break open the combination. Its silver pieces hadn't been touched since it snapped closed, brand new, nine years ago.

What lay inside was too much; I wouldn't be able to contain myself if that box was opened. The contents were as black as the ocean swimming in my memories, and made of the same material.

And yet I kept it with me, as close as I could allow, those contents as precious as the sparks of memory I would never welcome. They kept the sparks alive, burning just below the surface, remnants of a past literally locked out of my grasp.

I longed to spill them all over my floor, to spread them before me and define my misery. But to do so would mean jumping head first into an ocean of doubt, swimming in my fear, and embracing my nightmares.

I shivered lightly; my fingers tightened around my knees.

I was terrified of doing it alone, and tonight, I had never been lonelier.

Alice was gone before I reached the apartment, on a date with Jasper I had forgotten right after it was mentioned. I had almost talked myself into sharing my secret, if only to let go of the burden for a few moments, but the cold darkness of her room was enough to dissuade me.

Emmett wouldn't arrive until Sunday, although he promised he would stay for as long as I needed.

Which left me, alone, to deal with tomorrow.

If I was going to be saved, I would have to save myself.

My stomach growled once, a deep, grumbling ache that brought me out of my trance. My legs pulled out in front of me. With some force of will I didn't know I possessed, I sprang up from the bed, slammed my closet door shut, and tramped down to the kitchen.

Pulling out the leftovers from Pasta Thursday, I popped the Tupperware container into the microwave for a few seconds and then flopped down on the couch in the living room, turning on the TV. None of the lame reality shows could entertain my mind, so I settled on a little quality time with the Bradys and feasted on lukewarm baked ziti.

Soon, though, I found my thoughts wandering back to the top of my closet. It was right there, so close, full of answers to questions I never thought I'd have to ask. But now, if I were honest with myself, I wasn't sure I wanted them. Not yet.

I couldn't face Treward with confirmation I truly was losing my mind – or worse, confirmation I wasn't. The mysteries locked away needed to stay away. Knowledge was not power.

Instead, if I was going to enjoy my art and make this photo shoot successful, I would have to put aside my personal fears. I could keep my life out of my art, right? I pulled myself a little straighter in the couch cushions.

It was only work. And there were three other guys in the band. It wasn't as though I had to talk to Treward. Actually, it wasn't as though I had to hold a conversation with anyone. I was taking photos, not performing interviews. I could do this, I really could.

I would do it, for no other reason than I had to. And I would avoid him completely while I was doing it. I had so convinced myself of my amazing powers of evasion, I took a long, hot shower and slept soundly that night.

Come morning, I was back to seriously doubting my sanity.

"Ms. Swan?" whispered a tentative voice beside me. I jumped and snapped my head left, towards the sound. My neck moved so quickly, I'm sure my face probably blurred. I think I pulled something.

Beside me, the tiny Haitian flinched. Liquid sloshed around inside of the cup in her hands, brown ribbons of coffee dribbling down the sides. She smiled a little and held up the Styrofoam container like some kind of sacred offering. "I thought you might be able to use this."

God, even she could sense my tension.

"Thanks, Joelle," I sighed, accepting the cup and attempting to breathe the tension out of my shoulders.

It didn't work.

The small woman brightened slightly and nodded once. Obviously she didn't recognize the 'ready to snap at any moment' look. "Is there anything else I can do for now?"

I turned back to the set before us – an empty green room filled with classic, fifties style decor. Lighted vanity mirrors hung over built-in wooden makeup tables, the varnish peeling perfectly. The entire room was antique, with deep, olive green, suede furniture, which looked like it had been vomited up by the seventies. The garishness, however, still managed to work with the simple, brassy chandelier lamps placed strategically around the room by Joelle and me.

Three of the stage assistants the Rigby Theatre had provided me were carefully moving the wooden frame of a baby grand piano outside by the lake for the second location of the photo shoot.

"No, I think we're all done in here, but if you could go measure the outdoor lighting and take some test shots to prep the aperture settings, that'd be great," I flashed her a smile, watery at best.

"Of course, Ms. Swan," the young girl turned quickly to do my bidding.

"And don't forget to account for the glare off the lake," I called behind her. Eager interns were the best. Fingering my coffee cup and taking a long draw, I winced. Disgusting.

As soon as I made my way to the food table and began to dump three packets of the sweet stuff into the cup in an effort to make the bitter caffeine ingestible, I felt his sudden presence like an electric current razing my backbone. He was in the room. His laughter echoed across the wide space. I breathed in slowly and stirred the coffee.

He cleared his throat, directly behind me. For an instant, my stomach twisted and a shiver raced through me. I buried the sensation and clutched at the Styrofoam in my hands.

Big girl panties, Swan.

I turned and drank, cringing as the scalding, still bitter liquid coursed down my throat.

"Guys, this is Isa – Bella, are you okay?"

I had attempted to turn the cringe into a wide, open lipped smile. I think it may have come out looking more like some odd, sickly grimace of a dying walrus.

"Mmhmph," I mumbled, fully swallowing and panting a little. Trevor merely ran a hand through his hair, an amused grin holding back what was sure to be full out laughter. He turned to the men behind him, who were obviously restraining their guffaws.

I wanted to die in my favorite, bubble print Chucks.

"As I was saying," Trevor waved his left hand towards me, his right shoved roughly in his pocket, "this is Isabella Swan, soon-to-be famed photographer, currently assistant photography editor at Spin magazine." He waved his hand at the two guys who stood behind him. "Isabella, the guys."

"Ricky," a short, lanky blonde murmured shyly, and began to pull a hand from his jeans.

"Feel free to call me Bella," I nodded, holding my hand out in return.

"- And you feel free to call me anything you'd like," a tall, dark, brown haired stranger leered, cutting off the blonde and grabbing my proffered limb. "But uh, until you make a decision, you should know that these losers call me Marshall."

"Uh huh," I pulled my hand from his and did my best not to cringe. God, was this how Emmett picked up women? Ugh. Gross.

Shaking off the sensation, I motioned towards the few makeup artists meandering on the sidelines, by the donut table.

"Okay, let's get started, shall we? Have you all –"

Trevor held up a hand. "Oh yeah, we're all well acquainted with Tricia."

I think he grimaced. I held in my own laughter at Tricia's wave and supposedly coy wink.

"Okay," the word was drawn out while my eyes wandered over their wardrobe. "Nice solids, a good mix of darks and lights," I nodded slowly in approval, trying not to linger over the way Trevor's loose, slim fit jeans clad perfectly to his well-formed ass. Gah. "Glad to see you all decided to follow someone's advice."

"That would be Alice," Marshall chuckled, tugging on his button down, "who has become our personal wardrobe assistant. Said she couldn't have us mucking up our first big shoot."

"Ah," the word fell out of my mouth ungracefully. It figured. She would dress Trevor in clothing that made his irresistibleness drop dead sexy. Of course, she had no idea this had become my shoot today.

But that was beside the point.

Dark grey, straight leg jeans hung low on his hips, mirrored nicely against a light grey t-shirt and crisp, white button down, which brought out the peach in his skin and the auburn in his light brown hair. A black, leather jacket hung on his arm.

I thought Alice didn't want me molesting Rose's fiancé.

The other two boys coordinated well in varying shades of the same colors; obviously Alice's penchant for interior design carried over into her ability to create a great scene and prepare for any backdrop.

"Okay, well," I set the coffee down on an ambiguous table, hoping it would disappear, "why don't we get started? You three just go mingle and mess around so we can work on some group shots. After, we'll move to the individual stuff. Oh, also, I'll be doing some test shots first, so just ignore me and be yourselves."

I couldn't help the smile pulling my lips apart as I talked; I was eager to get started. Ricky and Marshall nodded and walked away, the smaller shoving the larger, obviously protesting something.

I walked to the nearest table to pick up my baby – my Canon EOS 5D Mark II – and sling the strap around my neck. One of the best professional cameras on the market, it had been my Christmas present from Renee's Hollywood fling last year, as they both attempted to buy my presence on Christmas day.

I couldn't say it worked, but having an absent mother obviously had its perks.

I started to finger the controls, watching the lighting bars and playing with the shutter speed, when a throat cleared in my ear, again. I jumped and spun around, paralyzed when I saw Trevor not three feet behind me.

He spoke before I could squeak.

"I just wanted to say that, well … that I'm glad it's you. Thank you, Bella." A slight smile highlighted his words, and he caressed me with his eyes before turning and walking away.

Caressed me with his eyes? What. The. Fuck, Bella.

I was struck speechless.

This was becoming an alarmingly normal thing around him.

What happened to those big girl panties, huh Swan?

If it hadn't been for the considerable amount of people swarming around me, waiting for my cue, I might have slapped myself. What the fuck did I think I was doing?

No doubt I had talked myself into absolute denial last night, but now?

Now I was screwed beyond belief.

And I still had to find some way to keep my job. If only he didn't talk to me again …

Inadvertently, my vision cut over to the three men who were goofing around, shoving each other off of couches and acting like … well, like boys. Except Trevor, who stopped roughhousing and gave me a very odd look.

Damn it, Bella, pull yourself together!

I could do this. I had to do this. There was no choice.

So instead of dwelling in the moment, I drew courage from my blue lace thong and pulled the camera's viewer in front of my eye.

My world transformed.

I was no longer a part of the human populace; I was above it, floating, capturing, living, and breathing in this enchanted plane. The lens was my vision and the universe was splayed out before me, waiting for me to capture it, to control it, to see it for what it truly was.

My characters moved for me, because of me, first together, and then separately, as I became the artist, the painter, the only living being who could capture their souls.

Photographs never lied.

Before I knew it, forty-five minutes had passed, and I was drawn back into reality, which seemed brighter and more muted all at once by the world behind the camera. Each one of the band members was being interviewed for the article in between the location shoots.

I was still floating, my feet gliding across the wood to the sparsely covered food table. I grabbed a bottle of water and plopped ungracefully in front of a bay window to gaze at my next set.

A snapshot high? That shit was better than marijuana any day.

Which helps to explain why I didn't jump ten feet in the air when a warm body slipped up and into the metal folding chair behind me, so near I could feel the heat and electricity wind around my bones.

Trevor.

Time ticked slowly by, neither of us saying a word. His leg pressed against mine, my arm brushed his shoulder. I swam in the silence, a warm trembling in the pit of my stomach telling me I was home – telling me I was whole. Something I hadn't been sure of in years.

He finally stood up and moved his chair around to face me.

"This coffee," he mumbled, "is shit."

I giggled. God help me, I giggled. About coffee.

"Oh come on, it's not …" I trailed off when he raised an eyebrow at me.

"No, I'm serious, I think it's literally shit," he laughed, sitting the container on the floor next to him.

"Maybe," I laughed a little more and fixed my eyes on the lake. The silence enveloped us.

Finally, turning my head from the window, I looked over at him. He was leaning back, relaxed, his eyes focused on the sun-infused water and tall, waving grass rolling like a sea in the breeze.

After a few moments, he faced me. I blushed, discovered, but a warm smile crept along his lips and immediately wiped away any embarrassment.

"So," I trailed off, fingering a strand of hair, "how are you?"

God, I was so lame.

Trevor smirked a little, but an unexpected sobriety crept into his face. He sat straight.

"I think you'd be a better person to answer that question, Bella."

Of course I knew what he was referring to, what he was asking me. And any other day, I'd have become rigid and resistant.

But right now ….

"I'm good. I don't think I was so much before. I mean, I know I deserved it, but Rose was kind of a real bitch – to Alice, especially – and … well, anyhow, now … yeah, I'm good. Oh, also, I'm really sorry for snooping around, by the way."

Wow. Getting that off my chest? That shit felt good.

Trevor stared at me. I think I stunned the hell out of him. Well, I did say the high was better than drugs, didn't I? I honestly wasn't sure I comprehended the word vomit spilling from my mouth.

"Okay," he nodded slowly, "Good … I'm glad you're good –"

"Set up for two!" The voice burst through the air.

I turned my head to find the source of the sound which nearly ruptured my ear drum and saw random crew members moving towards the back exit. Marshall, Ricky, and the interviewer were nowhere to be seen.

"Shall we?"

Trevor stood above me and held his hand out. Grinning, I took it, finally not flinching at the electric pulse shooting through my nervous system, leaving a trail of pleasant heat behind. As soon as he pulled me up, he released his grasp.

We walked, side by side, towards the exit, his hands shoved in his pockets, mine occupied with my camera, resisting the temptation to scroll through the pictures. It wasn't my job to sort through them. I never looked until I received the finished product.

I stopped in my tracks, however, when Trevor slid in front of me at the door, facing me and preventing my exit.

"You know, you are the most direct person I have ever met."

"Um … thank you?" I raised an eyebrow, not sure what he was insinuating. He laughed.

"Trust me, it's a, well – I mean …" he looked me over, "It's just – it's different, to hear what you really think."

I snorted. My wits finally caught up.

"Thanks," I shoved past him, out the door and into the sunlight.

"I'm serious," he protested, following me and jogging a few steps to keep pace with my harried walk.

"Yeah, sure, look, I'm a blunt bitch, I get it. Not like it's the first time I've heard the words."

"No, Bella, that's not what I –"

I threw one hand up in irritation, blowing him off, and walked faster. He grunted, frustrated, as I left him further behind. Slim, strong fingers wrapped around my upper arm, halting me.

"My God, woman, would you stop and listen to me?"

I stopped, silent, and turned inward on the ball of my foot, his hand loosening its grip and sliding down to my forearm. My expression radiated skepticism. He shut his eyes and sighed through his nose, running his other hand through his hair before opening them again.

"Look, it's just – I'm not used to women who truly mean what they say." He grinned a little. "Around here, in this … society, I guess, it's all about the subterfuge … the lies. Everything that comes out of their mouths is just hiding what they really mean. Except you," he turned his head a little to the side, curious puppy eyes burning in full force. "You're different. It's refreshing to me, Bella, your honesty." Finally, he smiled, his expression softening and morphing into something that left me warm inside. "It's nice."

"Oh." Damn it. Speechless again. He rolled his eyes and dropped my arm.

"I feel like you never say anything around me unless you're pissed."

"Shit, no, I just … I'm sorry for kind of jumping the gun there, I just –"

"Hush, Bella," he pressed a finger against my lips. "I was joking. Just take it as a compliment." He paused. "I guess it's why I enjoy being around you so much."

His finger slipped away. My lips mourned the loss of contact.

"I –"

"Hey Trev!" Marshall's voice echoed between us. "Stop trying to molest the photographer so we can get this show on the road! I wanna get to the bar before I'm thirty and Ricky here has to work!"

"Keep your pants on, douche!" Trevor replied, a lopsided grin stealing my breath before he turned and walked towards the piano. I noticed he had slipped the jacket over his white button down.

Chills raced down my spine at the sight of his defined shoulder blades sloping to a fitted waist and perfectly round, tight ass. I could imagine wrapping my fingers around his ass, the electricity we both shared vibrating into my fingertips.

Shit. I was so fucked.

Somehow, with some sort of will power even my perfect panties could not provide me, I worked for the next hour without stopping. I separated myself from reality and my situation. Time passed, slipping through the flashes of my camera and the slap of the water against the grassy shore.

And then time was gone. Stage hands and company lackeys had removed all of the equipment besides the empty piano frame. Even Joelle was gone, riding with the rest of the crew to deliver everything to the office.

I was on my back, arms over my head, basking in the sun and the grass waving softly, filling my ears with a gentle swoosh. I had snuck back outside after everyone besides the stage hands were gone, eager to calm my anxiety and lose myself in peaceful serenity.

And all I could think of was him.

Edward. My Edward.

Trevor had no place here, in the small time I allotted myself after a good shoot. It had become tradition. Edward had always loved my photography. Over the year and a half before 'it' happened, he had dotted his walls with my 'art,' as he called it. I could never tell him, at fourteen, that he was the one who inspired it all. Even after he was no longer around.

And so I always spent time with him after every shoot. Usually, I told him all about my shoot, my life. I told him I was sorry for not coming to chat more often. I told him I missed him.

But today was different.

I couldn't bring myself to tell him about the shoot. I couldn't tell him I was falling for his irritating twin, who happened to be engaged, and I was going to hell permanently and might not ever see him again.

I could only see him, laughing, as I told him I missed him. My lids were shut, seeing the auburn brown of his hair in the colors of the sun dancing, scattered beneath them. His hand brushed my arm, swept over my shoulder, and pressed against my cheek.

Edward. Nothing is the same anymore. I can feel you, in the sun, in the grass, but without you here, it's hard to breathe. You gave me my colors, showed me the sky. Edward … I miss you.

Then find me, Bella.

I frowned, confused. He'd never answered before. What –

"Bella?"

The name broke into my consciousness again, and I opened my eyes.

Trevor hung over me, shaggy brown hair tumbling into his face. "They're about to lock up. I figured you might want these."

He dangled my keys in front of my face.

"Yeah," I mumbled, disoriented. "Thanks."

I sat up and stretched my arms in front of me. My subconscious was confused. I kept feeling Edward's voice wash over me like a warm, healing bath, but Trevor hovered in front of me, his eyes alight.

I was blending the two.

Bad move, Bella.

Dropping the keys in my lap, Trevor walked over to the prop piano bench and began to run his fingers over the white ivory. I watched him curiously for a bit, his long, lithe hands effortlessly rushing across the piano, in what I was sure would have been a beautiful melody had there been any strings or dampers inside the frame. His eyes were closed, his entire body in tune with the instrument, almost molding into the wood.

I had only seen one other person play with the same emotion, as though their soul was borne on the notes I couldn't hear.

The hair along my arms stood on end.

I shook the thought away and, pressing myself from the ground, sauntered over to the piano.

"How long have you been playing?" The words slipped off of my lips easily, a conversation I wasn't sure if I would regret starting or not. He opened his eyes dropped his hands to his lap.

"I don't –" he stopped. Irritation quickly swept across his face before he stood and wiped it away. "For as long as I can remember, I guess."

"You guess?"

He nodded and, taking hold of my arm, pulled me sideways a bit. It wasn't until I was fully around I realized he was moving me out of the way. The stage hands were carting the piano to its rightful resting place.

"Well," I started towards the parking lot, Trevor trailing behind, "it looked like it would have sounded beautiful."

He chuckled. "Maybe one day I can let you hear it."

"Maybe."

We finished our walk in silence. Trevor stopped as soon as our feet hit the pavement, next to a beautifully polished, bright red Mustang. I found myself nearly drooling.

"Is that –"

Grinning he nodded.

"Is she –"

"Yeah, she's mine." I think he may have actually puffed out his chest. "It's okay, you can touch her. Eleanor likes to be stroked."

I burst out laughing, edging towards the '67 Mustang GT500.

"I can't believe you copied her name. Man, that's just lame."

"Hey, now, if Nicholas Cage can't get it right, no one can."

I rolled my eyes at his obvious obsession with Gone in Sixty Seconds as I ran my hand over the steel body and chrome door handle, peering in at the factory, vintage seats. He smirked.

"Is it original?" I pointed through the glass.

"Oh yeah," he murmured, stroking the hood. "Every bit of her is. Guess I just have a soft spot for things from the past."

"Obviously." I couldn't say I wasn't a little jealous, watching him caress the car. He looked up at me.

"You want to drive her?"

"Me?" I squeaked. My immediate answer? Hell yes! But in an instant all of the ramifications of driving anywhere with this man, in this car, came crashing down around me. "Trevor, I really don't think that's such a good idea, especially with our past –"

"Come have a good cup of coffee with me. I want to talk to you, please. It's just coffee, Bella, no one has to know. Rose isn't even in the state. Urban Grind is right down the street, so it's just a little drive, a little coffee, and a little conversation." He pouted a bit and held up his keys. "You know you want to handle her."

I nearly salivated at the chance to drive the amazingly gorgeous piece of machinery. I wasn't even a car aficionado, and I knew what kind of opportunity this was. But I also knew the downside of this opportunity; the kind of mess I could manage to create, for us both, loomed above me.

My body was pulling me in two different directions. Most of me – the slutty part – longed to slip inside of the car and spend more time with the man who, for reasons unheard of, I was unutterably drawn to. A much smaller part was telling me going with him would be morally wrong, on so many different planes of reality.

The sad part? My slutty side won out more quickly than I would have liked.

"Fine, but I drive round-trip, and you have me back to my car in a half hour, deal?"

"Deal," he grinned, tossing me the keys over the car as we switched sides. I slid into the driver's seat and pressed my foot against the clutch, turning the ignition. Eleanor rumbled to life underneath my hands; the vibrations humming between my legs and up my arms nearly sent me into catatonic shock from pleasure.

"You know how to drive a stick?"

I smirked.

Instead of answering, I shifted quickly into reverse, slid the Shelby out of the parking lot, and raced in the direction of the coffee house. We were there before Trevor could breathe another word.

I slipped the keys from the ignition and tossed them into his lap.

"I have a weakness for fast things," I shrugged, grinning maniacally. Muscle car driving high was almost as good as snapshot high.

Opening my door, I climbed from the car just as Trevor regained his tongue. He quickly jumped out and followed me into the building.

"Jesus, woman. You could be a little nicer to her."

"What? Please tell me you drive her like that all the time."

"Hell no!" he gaped at me. "Every woman needs to be loved on smooth and slow from time to time."

"Yeah, and every woman needs to be driven hard from time to time too." I replied snarkily as I sidled up to the counter. "Grande, non-fat white chocolate raspberry mocha, please."

The barista stared, open mouthed, at my comment.

"What?" I glared at him, ready to jump down his throat; a completely uncalled for reaction due to the Eleanor induced power high. Fortunately, Trevor was there to tame me and save the poor barista's head.

"I'll have a venti caramel macchiato with a double shot of espresso, please, and one grande, non-fat white chocolate raspberry mocha for the lady. Thank you." He paid for our drinks and looked at me. "Why don't you find us a table?"

"Sure," I nodded and slipped into a plush lounge chair, situated around a coffee table scattered with magazines. After a few moments, Trevor joined me.

"Thanks," I reached for my mocha, "I don't know what got into me."

Trevor seated himself next to me. "Haven't I told you yet to stop apologizing to me?"

"No," I murmured, looking down as I took a long draw from the drink.

"Well, then stop apologizing to me." He reached over and swept a few pieces of hair out of my face. "Like I said … I find you refreshing to be around."

"You're the first," I muttered into my straw.

"Really?" He seemed sincerely surprised.

"Yeah, most of the guys I've dated usually ask me to tone it down. I guess their tiny male egos couldn't take the truth." Trevor snorted, and I looked up to see his sardonic grin. "What?" I protested. "That's when I break up with them. I'm not going to have someone tell me who I need to be."

Trevor's gaze sobered, and he studied me for a moment. "It's going to take a very special person to win your heart, Bella."

"Yeah," I mumbled, "thanks." A special person that no longer exists. At this point, I would be a spinster for life. In resistance to this, my mind switched gears. "Enough about me, how about you and Rose? How did that match made in heaven come to life?"

Trevor frowned. "You don't have to patronize it, Bella." I withered a bit at his rebuke. "But, all in all, I guess our story is the same as any other." He sighed and leaned backwards. "We met in high school, at Pace Academy, my senior year. Jasper was one of my best friends, and I fell for his older sister. End of story."

"Really?"

He nodded.

"Well damn," I sat back myself, disappointed. "I was hoping for some star-crossed lovers, written in the heavens or something." Not.

Trevor laughed. "Not so much. This is real life, Bella, not a passionate romance novel."

"You don't think passionate romance can happen?"

"I don't think it has to. Passion burns out, like a fire on kindling. Comfort and safety in a love is what lasts forever."

I frowned. "To never have passion in your life -"

"My music is my passion."

My frown deepened. "But you do love her, right?"

Trevor stared at me, his mouth half open like a hooked fish. "She's all I need, Bella. And that should be enough."

"I guess you would know better than me," I smiled wryly, letting the subject drop. "What about this mysterious past you keep telling me is such a long story?"

"A story that's way too long for," he glanced at his watch, "the fifteen minutes we have left till I have to get you back to you car," he smirked. "Besides, it's my turn for questions. I want to know about your past. What about your parents?"

My heart clinched a bit. What was it with these Cullens and their penchant for talking about my parents?

"Um, well, my mom emancipated and abandoned me about six months after I turned sixteen, and my dad …" I trailed off, catching Trevor's flinch at my first statement. He was going to love my second one. "Well, my dad was my life. He died when I was fourteen."

"Bella, I –"

"It's okay, Trevor, I know you understand death. I really don't want pity, please."

He looked at me oddly. "What do you mean?"

I narrowed my eyes, rolling Esme's odd reaction to Alice's statement at the engagement party over in my head. "I'm really sorry for bringing it up, but you lost a younger brother, right? Your mom got a little upset with Alice for bringing it up at the party; said you were really sensitive about the matter."

Trevor looked away, and I saw his jaw working slowly, the skin tightening around the bone. After thirty seconds, however, he turned back to me.

"I'm sorry if my mother said anything to upset you or Alice. She's just really protective over me, for personal reasons. Sometimes," he glanced away again, out the window wall to our right, "I don't always remember things from when I was younger."

Immediately, without allowing me time to respond, Trevor glanced down at his watch and stood from his chair. "It's time for me to get you back to your car, if I'm going to stick to our deal."

I wanted to speak up, to delve further into the mystery surrounding this man's mind. His situation had become even more fascinating to me with every word.

Instead, I read in his eyes the harsh rebuttal of any question I had. It was almost as though he'd let something slip he never intended to share.

This would be a mystery I'd have to solve on my own.

I rode Eleanor hard again on our way back to my car, trying to lose myself in the thrill of the engine purring underneath my hands. However, by the time I had exchanged goodbyes with Trevor and gotten his address so I could bring over the final proofs sometime next week, the question had worked its way to the forefront of my mind again.

I almost couldn't believe his confession of occasionally losing memories. Sometimes memories just went away, right? I forgot things all the time, as did most of the human race.

Trevor, on the other hand, seemed more than a little upset at forgetting. As if he knew more than he wanted to let on … or maybe he knew less than he was letting on.

Were Esme and Carlisle Cullen some kind of child slave-trade ring leaders?

Really? What the hell, Bella?

My mind was racing a hundred miles a minute, and while my Spidey senses were definitely on full alert, I still didn't have enough evidence to reveal my conspiracy theories to anyone else.

Well, anyone else who wasn't mental, like me.

I pulled into the garage, my mind still mulling over all of the conversations with Trevor and Esme, the odd looks and the even odder behavior. Pulling my camera and my handbag out behind me, I stomped up the stairs and began to fish around for my key when all of a sudden my highly preoccupied mind realized something else was wrong.

Some kind of rock-techno-hip hop music was pouring out from underneath the door, its thrashing rhythms interrupting my heartbeat with the bass. I glanced over at the apartment number to confirm I was opening the right door when it hit me – the only imbecile I knew who listened to music this annoying was the giant teddy bear who was coming to roost in my apartment.

A huge grin lit my face when I realized he must have arrived early, let in by Alice, while I was out at the photo shoot. I looked around for her car to no avail. Giving up the search, I hurriedly thrust my key into the lock and threw open the door.

"Emmett, I can't believe you lied –" My voice had started off high, but I trailed off at the sight before me.

The giant teddy bear was snuggled into Alice's even larger couch, while a gorgeous, slim blonde sat curled, cat-like, on the other side of Emmett's foot. His splinted leg was sitting in her lap, one hand settled languidly on the cast while the other pressed over her ear as she grimaced at the noise coming from the speakers. A small smile played over her lips.

"Bella!" Emmett bounced a little on his throne. My mouth fell open. "Have you met –"

"Rosalie?"

Oh no! :D Find out more next time! And for lovely teasers and insight, click that beautiful button down there and review! I promise, they'll come earlier this time. :) Love you guys, Merry Christmas, Happy Quanza, Happy Hanukkah, and Happy Holidays to all!