A/N: "Woah" (to be read a la Joey Lawrence). We are absolutely blown away by the alerts/favs and fuckawesome reviews we've recently gotten. Lara and I keep gushing about how we have the best readers EVER.

A HUGE massive chocolately cake thank you to araeo (fantabulous author of Work In Progress) and lexiecullen17 (beta extraordinaire and author of The Longest Summer) for donning their long fur coats, swanky felt hats and PIMPING us in their fics. You ladies rock and we love you tons!

Supersmooches as always to Char for beta-ing this bad boy. I love you tons despite the fact that I know you want to clobber me over the head with a comma.

Disclaimer: We all know that we don't own these guys. We're just borrowing them from S. Meyers for a little fun of our own.

and lastly...to my partner in crime, Lara...I have no words for what you did last chapter. It was beyond amazing. Like, Nobel Prize winning worthy. I mean, how the hell am I supposed to follow nekkid sexperts? yeah. Well, here goes nothing...


As I walked to work the next day, I found myself fixated on the fact that Java and his brother knew I lived in New York City. I was getting a little paranoid, until I realized I might have tweeted about a Mix Master Mike gig that I had been to in Brooklyn. I think I might have mentioned the venue.

Maybe.

Possibly.

I shook my head, not wanting to freak myself out anymore than I already was. I knew that doing stuff like Facebook and Twitter left me open for internet snoopery, but I never thought anyone would actually bother with that... especially when it came to me. Despite the mild paranoia I felt surrounding Java, I was still incredibly curious. Who was this high, shy, and geektastically hot guy? I couldn't stop thinking about him all throughout work, and I even jabbed myself with a set of kid not-so-safety scissors mid-daydream.

For all my nerves surrounding the situation, it didn't elude me that I took the long way home from work, walking past the park just to see if anybody was playing basketball. I got a quick flutter in my stomach when I heard the hard beat of a ball being slapped onto the pavement, but my stomach took a nosedive when I noticed that it was just a bunch of ten year olds. I was pretty certain none of them was my hot Twitter pal. My deflated feeling just made me realize that despite the somewhat realistic potential that Java was probably a serial killer, who liked to have his victims rub lotion all over their bodies before he killed them, while dressed in ladies pantyhose, I was kinda into him. Apparently, a night of drunken/high tweeting was my best option for some sort of love connection at the moment.

Lord help me.

So, when I got home, I did what any rational girl in my situation would do: I twitter-stalked him. His first tweet after our conversation threw me for a loop. I had no clue what the hell to make of it.

JavaTheHuttt: Cabbage is better than nudity.

Huh?

I wondered if I had made a mistake, that if in my drunken haze, I had read more into our conversation than was there. Maybe that wasn't even his picture. Maybe he was just some loser who lived in his parents' basement. I scrolled through the rest of Java's tweets and stopped when I reached something interesting.

JavaTheHuttt: Brunettes are the new Casper.

My stomach fluttered slightly as the crazy voice inside my head said, He likes brunettes, you're a brunette! I rolled my eyes at myself, knowing how stupid I sounded, even in my own head. He had no clue what I looked like, so he didn't even know I had brown hair. And what the hell did that have to do with Casper anyway? Maybe that wasn't even a compliment and he actually hated brunettes? My head hurt from thinking about it, and thankfully, I was soon distracted when I heard Alice come in the front door.

"Luuuuuuuuuucy, I'm home," she trilled, making me laugh.

"In here, Ricky," I replied.

"Mail call," Alice informed me, dumping a huge package on my lap.

"What's this?" I asked, shaking the package up and down.

Alice shrugged before returning her attention to the catalogue in her hand.

"Beats me. Why don't you open it and find out for yourself?"

I stuck my tongue out at her.

"Brilliant idea, Nancy Drew."

I checked to see who the sender was, but there was no return address. I brought the package up to tear it open and caught a faint whiff of cabbage. Was there such a thing as odoriffic flashbacks? Because if there was, I was having one. What was the deal with cabbage being back in my life again? I thought I escaped that when I ditched Loser Lauren. I focused back on the package and ripped it open before turning it upside down, shaking the contents loose. A handful of envelopes bound together with a rubber band fell out, as well as something else. I looked at the envelopes first and quickly realized it was my missing mail. A mini fist pump later, I was rifling through to see what important mail I had missed. Only after I had realized that half the stuff was junk mail and not, like I had hoped, a stockpile of birthday checks from Nana, did I realize that something else had fallen out as well.

I bent down to grab whatever had fallen to the floor and couldn't help but laugh. There were five packs of different flavored bubble gum taped together with a note attached.

Dear Isabella Swan,

I am terribly sorry for the mix up regarding your mail and that it has taken me so long to forward it to you. Please accept my apologies along with this offering of gum. I included the gum because you seem to be a fan.

Sincerely,

-E.C.

I shook my head as I read the note. The gum was a cute touch, but who signs their name with just initials? I couldn't get too annoyed, however, because I had finally gotten my mail back. I hoped that this would be the end of it and no more stuff would get sent to the old place. With my mail situation seemingly under control, I was now free to focus my attention on more pressing matters. I brought back up my twitter screen just in time to see that Java had recently updated.

JavaTheHuttt: Its incredible how stupid people can really be.

I burst out laughing and nodded my head in agreement.

"What the heck has you braying like a stupid hyena?" Alice asked as she walked over to me.

I wasn't fast enough, and before I knew it, she had turned the screen towards her, reading all of Java's tweets, including the ones to me. A few clicks later, I could tell she had read mine back to him.

"Isabella Marie Swan. Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

By the tone of Alice's voice, I knew I was in trouble. It was the same tone used relentlessly by Sister Maria when I had attended Holy Cross Elementary School. I recalled one time I had gotten dragged into her office for writing "I heart the Prince of Darkness" on my notebook. She hadn't even given me a chance to explain that I meant Ozzy Osbourne before whipping out her ruler and...

THWACK!

I was harshly pulled from my Catholic school daydream by a nasty flick on the ear. I peered up to see a smug-looking Alice poised with her fingers ready to strike again. I held my hands up in defeat.

"Fine, fine. What?" I asked, knowing I wouldn't be getting out of this easily.

"Who is this man you've been flirting with online, and more importantly, why haven't I heard of him before?"

For such a petite person, she was awfully loud and bossy. I groaned, wondering how I could spin this so it didn't seem lame or desperate. After looking at the situation from every possible angle, I just decided to go with the truth.

"Well, I dunno. He was a new Twitter follower. After one night out at the bars with you, I was online, and he and I engaged in some...Twitter banter."

"Banter?" Alice repeated skeptically. "You call asking him for pointers on how to stroke your pussy, banter?!"

I smirked, remembering that part of the conversation.

"Yeah, that was funny."

Alice rolled her eyes at me, before grabbing the laptop and reading something off of it.

"So, are you going to do it?"

"Do what?" I asked, not quite sure what she was referring to.

"Meet up with complete strangers in the middle of Central Park?"

"Um," I shifted around in my seat, avoiding her glare. "Maybe?"

Alice shook her head, then grabbed my hand, pulling me up. I was terrified for a moment, as she dragged me into my room. Was she going to lock me away so I couldn't go?

"What are you doing?" I demanded, remembering that I was indeed a grown up.

"If you're going to go through with this cockamamie thing, you might as well look hot," she explained as she began tearing through my closet.

After a half hour of being told why my wardrobe wasn't even fit for a fourth grader, Alice dragged me down to the Village, where we hunted through five different vintage stores before she found a few things that met her approval. I kept glancing down at my phone, checking the time. There was no way they could have been playing at seven at night... Right?

"Again?" Alice asked, exasperated. "That's the fifth time you've checked your phone."

"I was just checking the time. I don't exactly know when their game is, and I wasn't sure if I might have missed it."

Without saying a word, Alice pulled my phone from my hands and started pressing buttons. A few seconds later, she thrust it back at me.

"Here. Now you have Twitter on your phone. You can stalk your geek-nerd even while out and about."

I didn't even have it in me to chastise her about downloading programs on my phone without my permission, and instead I immediately went to check Java's twitterfeed.

JavaTheHuttt: 87.42% of the time I love statistics.

I couldn't help but giggle, and hugged my phone to my chest when Alice tried to pull it away to see what he had written. I knew she would just make fun of me. I let her know that there was no mention of a basketball game yet, though, and she went back to inspecting a pair of boots. We finished up at the store and grabbed some falafel on the way home for dinner. Once back at the apartment, I hung up my new clothes in the closet and wondered when I would get the chance to wear them.

***

"Bella Swan, you dirty whore!"

I blinked my eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them. Before I was able to even open them, I felt my bed sag with the weight of somebody sitting down next to me.

"Come on, you big slut, wake up!"

I groaned, finally realizing it was Rosalie. I should have known. I so did not want to deal with her today.

"Get the fuck off my bed."

"Aw, come on. Is that anyway to speak to the lady who brought you coffee and danish?"

My eyes opened, and I shot up at the mention of danish. Damn her for knowing my weakness.

"Now that you're up, go grab a shower. You stink! Apparently, we have a basketball game to catch," she said smugly.

I eyed her warily, wondering what she meant.

"Alice told me," she said, by way of explanation.

I fell back onto my pillow, hating that my best friends never gave me any privacy.

"Stop it, Swan. I actually think this is good. It's not like your lady bits are getting any younger. Make sure you dust for cobwebs before we head out."

I threw my pillow at Rosalie before covering myself up with my covers. Like I really needed a reminder that my vag's closest friend required batteries to run. My best friends were under the impression that this was all my fault, however, since I refused to "put myself out there." Both Alice and Rosalie were big into the dating scene, whereas I would rather crawl into a hole and die then lose an hour of my life with some dillweed, who only wanted to talk about his job or car or heaven forbid, his mother. They claimed they always got a free meal out of it, and I claimed they got way more bad stories and potential STDs than anything else. The fact that I was going to go meet Java was a step in the right direction in their minds, though, so they seemed to be all for it. Alice had joined me in Twitter stalking Java, so she must have read about the game and alerted her partner in crime.

The sweet, cheesy scent of pastry brought me out of my thoughts, only to see Rose waving a danish in front of me.

"Go shower, Stinkerella!" she demanded.

I huffed and grabbed the danish from her hands before stalking off to the shower. I made a point of grabbing my cell phone, though, to see what the deal was for myself. I quickly scrolled to the Twitter app and then clicked to see what Java had written.

JavaTheHuttt: Heading to Central Park to chaperone Captain Doofus.

"Yes!" I fistpumped the air, bit of danish sprinkling down upon me.

I promptly shoved the danish into my mouth and started the shower, giving myself a quick sniff in the process.

Ew.

Rosalie was right. I smelled like Bret Michaels after he toured his bus of skanky love. I hopped right into the hot water, setting the record for speediest shower ever. I was eager to make it to the park before Java and his brother were finished. After drying myself off and downing another danish and the rest of my coffee, I grabbed the outfit Alice had helped me buy the other night. I looked at myself in the mirror, happy with the results.

"Not bad, Swan," chirped Rosalie, giving me her own form of approval.

Alice on the other hand was a bit more enthusiastic.

"Bella! You look fabulous! You actually look like a girl, for goodness sake. Your Twitter man is going to go gaga over you," she proclaimed with a huge smile.

I shrugged, not really used to anyone fawning over me this way. Instead, I grabbed my jacket and purse, making sure I had my phone, before calling to my girls.

"Come on, bitches. Let's go stalk my Twitter nerd."

We were lucky that it was a nice day out, and if my luck lasted, I might be treated to a game of shirts against skins. Maybe Java was shirtless this very minute, running around after the ball, his chest glistening with sweat as his breathing increased with each move of his body. His large hand sin command of the ball...

Ouch.

"What the hell, Rose?"

I glared at the smirking blonde to my right who had just pinched my upper arm.

"What the fuck was that for?"

"You were lost in la la land, Swan. Besides, we're here."

I stopped in my tracks, noticing that we were right down the pathway from the basketball courts. I strained to see if anybody was visible from where we were, but they all just looked like a bunch of blurry dots to me. I started to walk quickly towards the courts, before being pulled back by an abnormally strong Alice.

"What the hell?" I asked for the second time in a minute.

"Bella, Bella, Bella," clucked Alice. "What are you doing?"

"I'm...um...going to go over to their game, and..." I trailed off, realizing I didn't have a plan.

"Exactly," Alice said triumphantly. "We need to figure out what you're going to do. He doesn't know what you look like, right?"

I nodded. I had seen Java's picture, but I had never sent him one of me, so I was pretty sure he had no clue what I looked like. It meant I had the upper hand and could observe him for a bit without being spotted. I explained this to the girls, and they liked the idea of doing some recon work before deciding on a solid plan. Maybe Java was just a hottie in his picture but a total fugly loser in real life. A little covert peeping could help clear that up.

We made our way to the courts and started walking leisurely past each one. When we got to the third one, I spotted him. I knew it was him immediately. The shock of crazy-colored hair sticking out all over the place was a dead giveaway. The fact that he was sitting against a tree, laptop in hand, while a group of sweaty, grunting guys played in front of him was also a clue. I gripped Alice's arm tightly, and she stopped, allowing me to ogle him some more.

"Is that him?" Rose asked, her voice way too loud. She would make a totally crappy ninja.

"Yes," I hissed and slapped her.

She raised her sunglasses off her face and appraised my Java. I really wished I knew his name.

"Hm...he's not bad."

I rolled my eyes and pulled them away from the chain link fence so that we could talk without being overheard.

"So, now what?" I asked, panicked.

I knew I'd eventually have to talk to him, but I had no clue what to say.

"Just go up to him and say hi," Rose suggested with a shrug. "You can remind him you're his twitter ho."

"Thanks, Rose. Real classy."

"Come on," said Alice, dragging me towards the game.

She pulled me towards the bleachers, and we sat on the front row, only a few yards from Java. I kept sneaking glances at him, and it seemed like he was doing the same to me. I couldn't really tell though, since he was also watching the game. I frowned, trying to figure out what to do next. I tried to watch the game for a bit while I thought of something clever to do. The match on the court looked heated and intense, with elbows flying and the ball moving quickly. It was hard to concentrate on the game, though, since I kept looking at the cute guy sitting against the tree.

"Alice," I whispered, hoping she'd help me out and provide me with some amazing opening line.

Instead, she held her finger up, motioning for me to give her a second while she typed away with her other hand on her phone. I turned to Rose, figuring her brand of snark was better than nothing.

"Rose," I hissed. "Help me out here!"

Rose was no use either, it seemed. She was sitting there, slack-jawed, staring at some behemoth out on the court. The man that currently had her attention was tall, muscular and sort of hot... if you liked the pretty-boy-jock-type. His black tank top left little to the imagination, especially since it was currently soaked through with sweat. I could only imagine the puddle of drool we'd be sitting in if this guy had been on the "skins" side. I followed Rose's gaze, where it was zeroed in on the guy's crotch. I couldn't really blame her. Despite wearing some loose sweatpants, each movement he made accentuated his, um...package. It was more than just a simple package. I doubted a UPS man could have handled it. It was more like an anaconda, begging to break free. He moved left, and his not-so-little friend would move left, whipping in the breeze. Then he veered right and it flung in the other direction. He pivoted, and it swayed back and forth, like the heavy, weighted pendulum of a grandfather clock.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

I was quickly hypnotized by the movement, and my attention veered from both my Twitter boy and the game. I really should have been paying attention to the game.

"Isabella!"

Who the heck was calling my name? Was he calling my name? How did he know my name?

I whipped my head in the direction of the voice, only to be met with a large orange ball speeding at me. Before I could process what was happening, the ball made direct contact with my head, and I fell to the ground, vaguely hearing voices shouting my name as everything faded to black...


A/N: bwahaha...not the kind of fade to black SM is known for. But I'm sure we'll get there soon enough - or not, since Hackerward is totally inept when it comes to the ladies. And Bella? Not much of a lady, let's be honest.

Now...if you crazy critters enjoy this fic, you might enjoy the ones Lara and I each write separately. Check out this profile - we link ourselves in our favorites, b/c we're h00rs like that. :D