Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited, put me on alert, or just read! I'm so glad you seem to like the starting point. :)

I'm sorry this took so long. I really thought two weeks would be doable, and instead it's been more like three months. :( I'll try to do better. One thing that will help: I've given up on trying to include both points of view each chapter, at least until they meet. You'd still be waiting for an update if I hung around until Edward cooperated, lol.

Huge thanks to EmilyBowden for prereading – it's great to be able to bounce things off someone else. And thanks bunches to shelikesthesound and sweetishbubble at Project Team Beta for checking this out.

Rated M for some language, a few intoxicants, and a lotta future naughtiness (but it'll be a few chapters, folks).

Of course, I own nothing but dog-eared copies of five books (yes, including Bree – which actually isn't all that dog-eared), three DVDs, and a brand new but fast becoming dog-eared copy of the Illustrated Guide. And fatigue from going to Deathly Hallows part 2 last night—but so worth it! All I need are tickets to a midnight showing of BD part 1 and (hint, hint) an introduction to Edward...Hmm...No response...I guess Stephenie is not amused.

Let's see what Bella's up to freshman year...

~IN~

Chapter 2

My New Roommate

Bella

I opened the door to the room that would be my home for the next nine months. It was bigger than my bedroom back in Forks, but it couldn't be called large, especially with two residents. It was currently occupied by two sets of generic furniture: beds, dressers, desks, and chairs. I could see no sign of Kate, the roommate I'd been assigned.

Since I'm first, I guess I get first pick of the beds.

After testing each of them, I decided there wasn't any detectable difference in quality, so I chose the one further away from the door. If Kate turned out to be more of a partier than me—which was likely, since I wasn't a partier at all—at least she wouldn't stumble over me trying to get to her own bed. I started to unpack my stuff.

I had my clothes put away in the dresser and was starting to make up the bed I'd chosen when the door opened again. I turned and got my first look at my new roommate. I became immediately aware of my rumpled clothes, tangled hair, and bland coloring.

Kate Fiala was drop-dead gorgeous. Her wavy blond hair hung about half-way down her back, and her features were strong and well-defined yet still delicate. Her flawless skin had a light tan, which set off her light blue eyes so that they looked almost lavender. The jeans and scoop-neck t-shirt were casual, but her slim, curvy body wore them so well they could have been straight off the runway.

I sighed. Well, it's a good thing I don't like being the center of attention. No one will see me with her around anyway.

"Hey, you must be Bella. I'm Kate." She slung a huge duffel bag on the other bed.

I smiled and replied, "Yeah, I'm Bella. Nice to meet you. I hope you don't mind; I just picked a bed so I could start settling in."

"Oh, no worries. This one's good. You either work fast or you didn't have a lot to unpack." She half-smiled as she looked at me.

"A little of both, I guess." I laughed, a little nervously. One downside of coming across the country for college was not knowing anyone else to room with. I hated meeting new people, and she seemed nice but I had to admit that her looks were intimidating.

Kate looked at me fully, and her smile warmed. "You're a little shy, huh? It's okay; I don't bite."

"Oh, God, is it that obvious?" I groaned, embarrassed but also reassured on some level. I was also impressed with her perception in identifying the source of my nerves and her forthrightness in addressing it directly. We both laughed and started trading random facts as I finished my own unpacking before helping with hers. Maybe this would work out after all.

~IN~

Two weeks later, I had decided our living arrangement would work out a little better if she found a place other than my side of the room for her dirty laundry. And was a little quieter when she came in hammered after rush parties. But on the whole, we got along a lot better than our different personalities would have indicated.

No doubt at all, we were different. I was shy, studious, and completely uninterested in gossip or trends. I rarely wore skirts or makeup, and while I loved my long, wavy, brown hair, all I ever did with it was leave it loose or pull it back in a ponytail. I loved to read, hated crowded parties, and had never been drunk or had sex.

Kate was just as smart as I was, but she was outgoing and popular; within a few weeks, she seemed to know half our class. She took up three-fourths of our closet and knew how to throw a few pieces together in a way that looked straight out of Vogue. Her long blonde hair was mostly left to hang down her back, but sometimes she formed complex braids or up-dos with little apparent effort. Parties were her element, and by half-way through rush—an activity that gave me shudders just to think of doing it myself—she had her choice of three sororities, eventually choosing Delta Epsilon Nu. As for sex, well...she wasn't like me there, either. She wasn't a slut, but she wasn't waiting for true love to come calling.

Somehow, though, we worked.

Unlike the party crowd at my high school, she didn't think less of me for not being just like her, and that meant my instinctive defenses—silence and sarcasm—were not triggered. She was sympathetic to my shyness, and I came to realize that she had insecurities, too. What started as cautious mutual respect warmed quickly and became friendship. We complemented each other.

Of course, that didn't stop me from encouraging her to be a little neater and more organized in her study habits, and it didn't stop her from trying to get me out of my shell and over to one of the parties. I steadfastly resisted for the whole first half of the semester, but I finally cracked right after mid-terms. I blamed it on the calculus test—that mofo was rough.

A muffled Slovak curse came from the closet. "Don't you have anything to wear?" Kate demanded.

I looked down at my jeans and flannel shirt. "Can't I just wear what I have on? It's just a frat party, not a debutante ball." Was that whining? No, of course not.

Kate's head emerged and she gave me a stern look. "It's still a party. You will not go looking like you could just as well be scrubbing your bathroom." A whisper of an accent could be heard in her words. One thing I had learned about Kate was that she was the first person in her family to be born in the U.S., and she had grown up speaking Slovak at home and English at school and with her friends. Her head ducked back in the closet as she muttered, "You'll have to borrow something of mine. Try not to spill beer on it."

I chuckled. She talked a good game, but I knew she was a softy at heart. She just wanted me to look good, and her sense of style, unlike mine, was not open to question. A few seconds later, she emerged, triumphant and holding a scrap of dark blue fabric. She looked at me critically, had me turn around for her while I rolled my eyes, and announced, "You can keep the jeans—your ass looks good in them. But no way are you wearing flannel. Here."

I gingerly accepted the garment and was instantly seduced by how it felt in my hand—it didn't just lie there, it caressed me. I held it up to reveal a silk blouse with cap sleeves and a rounded collar. I was relieved she'd given me something fairly modest and eager to feel the silk against more of my skin, so I didn't argue. Until I realized that the buttons stopped at least three inches shy of my comfort level.

"Kate! No way am I going out in public with my boobs hanging out!" I glared at her. "At least let me put a tank or something on under it."

Kate sighed in exasperation. "Nothing's hanging out, you prude. If you wore normal clothes once in a while instead of covering up more than a nun, you'd realize this isn't even daring."

She took me by the shoulders and walked me over to the mirror.

"See? Just a teensy little shadow of cleavage. Not too revealing at all—just a little hint. It's perfect for you."

I looked in the mirror and saw that she was right. When I looked down at myself, I saw more than someone looking at me would; from the front, it was fine. And, oh, the color did amazing things for my skin—my pale face and neck didn't look washed out, like they usually did; I glowed.

I smiled brightly. "All right, you've convinced me. Let's go."

Kate led the way to the Phi Omega Rho house, where the party was. As we walked, she filled me in on who I could expect to see there. "A bunch of sisters will be there. I want you to meet Tanya and Irina – they're great. Watch out for Lauren, though. She's a backstabber and jealous of any attention anyone else gets. I'm still a little vague on the Phi O guys; they kinda blend together for me."

I was getting more nervous the closer we got, but before I knew it, Kate and I were holding plastic cups of beer chatting with two guys who said their names were Mike and Eric. I tasted the beer and found I didn't like the taste any more than I'd liked the sip of my dad's Vitamin R I'd snitched once, but I took a sip every now and then, mostly when I couldn't think of anything to say. That was pretty often. Once I caught Mike's eyes on the "shadow" of cleavage revealed by the blouse and I felt a blush heat my cheeks. I quickly looked down, then swallowed some beer to moisten my suddenly dry throat.

"Can I get you a refill?" Mike's hand appeared at the edge of my vision, reaching for my cup. I was surprised to realize I'd finished it.

"Um, sure. Thanks." A new guy had joined our group, Peter, I thought. He and Kate seemed to be hitting it off. Their stances had shifted slightly from the group as a whole to focused solely on each other, and looking at them objectively, I could see little cues in their mannerisms. Something told me Kate wouldn't be leaving with me.

My attention was drawn back to Mike when he handed me another beer. I took a sip and must have made a face because he chuckled.

"Not that good?"

I smiled ruefully and admitted, "Not really, no. Sorry, don't mean to diss the hospitality."

Mike and Eric both laughed at that. "Are you kidding? These are the cheapest kegs we could find—I'd be more surprised if they did taste good," Eric said.

For some reason, probably the fact that I wasn't that big and was now started on my second beer in less than an hour, I found that hilarious. Mike looked almost relieved that I seemed to be loosening up.

"You said you're from Washington state? That's unusual here. How are you liking Virginia?" Mike's voice was casual but he angled his body a little closer to me, in a way that partially blocked Eric.

"I like it. I like getting more sun, though I'm glad the heat's died down."

They both laughed again. "Wow, more sun. That's not something you hear about Williamsburg," Eric commented.

I took another, larger sip of my beer. This cup tasted a little better than the first. "Where are you guys from? Virginia?"

They both nodded. "We're both from NoVa." At my puzzled look, Mike explained further, "Northern Virginia, outside of D.C. There's a ton of us from up there. I'm from Arlington, and Eric's from McLean."

"Oh, did you know each other?"

"Nah, we just met during rush," Eric answered.

The conversation seemed to flow a lot more smoothly after that. The three of us ended up flaked out on a worn sofa while music videos played on a flatscreen. At some point, I realized that I couldn't remember how many beers I'd had.

Kate came over with Peter. "I'm going to go with Peter for a while. Will you be okay getting back to the dorm without me?" It says a lot for her that she even thought to ask, I mused dimly, instead of just leaving me for her...assignation? Hookup? I had no idea what to call it.

Mike and Eric both jumped in. "Hey, I can walk you back, no sweat," Mike said.

"Don't you have an early football practice tomorrow?" Eric helpfully reminded him. "I'll take care of Bella."

"It's not that early. I wouldn't feel right if I didn't see she got back okay," Mike replied, glaring at Eric.

Kate chuckled. "Well, looks like you're taken care of?"

I nodded. "We'll work it out."

They both ended up walking me home, and in a burst of gratitude, I slung an arm around each of them. "You guys are sweet, taking the time to walk me home instead of cruising for chicks at your party."

Mike coughed, and I worried. "You're not getting a cold, are you? You probably shouldn't be out in the night air, especially if you've got practice in the morning."

He smiled at me, a streetlight highlighting his blond hair and blue eyes. "I'm fine, Bella. And what makes you think I'm not cruising for a chick right now?"

I blushed and walked faster, hoping the darkness away from the streetlight would keep them from seeing it. "Well, duh, it's me. Why would you hit on me? Oh good, we're here!" I added before either of them could answer my rhetorical question. I removed my arms and thanked them both again before using my card key to enter the dorm.

I was a little more clumsy than usual as I made my way down the hall, bouncing against the wall at one point. I wondered vaguely if the carpet needed to be tacked down more securely. Once I got to my room, I all but crashed into my bed. The effort to get up and follow my usual night routine suddenly seemed overwhelming. I half-opened my eyes and looked at the bathroom door, a million miles away. "The hell with it," I muttered and kicked off my shoes. I was asleep before I even got under the covers.

~IN~

I awoke to a crew of tiny miners digging in my brain with their little pickaxes. I groaned and heard a soft chuckle. Turning my head slowly to try to keep the miners from becoming more aggressive, I opened one eye to see Kate reclining on her bed with a book on her lap, looking at me with both sympathy and humor. She nodded toward my nightstand, and following her gaze, I saw a couple of pills and a glass of water. "I got you some ibuprofen. Take it and lie down for a while longer. You, my friend, are having your first hangover."

I sat up enough to take the pills and then gently lay my head back down. "Ugh. Is that what this is? Why didn't I get a clue from how bad the beer tasted?"

Kate laughed and the sound seemed to pierce my skull, drawing another groan from me. She stopped right away. "Sorry, I couldn't help it. Everyone does it at least once."

I opened both eyes and surveyed her critically. Not only did she appear to have none of the ill effects I was suffering from, she looked downright radiant. I scowled and said sourly, "You're looking fabulous this morning. Didn't you drink too much?"

Kate tried to keep the noise down, but a few giggles escaped. My scowl deepened. "I come from a long line of hardcore vodka drinkers, Bella. It takes more than a few beers to put me under. Besides, I only had one—Peter and I didn't drink anything." Her sultry smile hinted at what they had done. Apparently, a little nookie did wonders for her.

I was suddenly curious—or the painkillers were kicking in—and I pushed myself to a sitting position and grabbed the water glass. "You do look fabulous, and you're in one hell of a good mood. Is sex really that great?"

Kate's voice matched her smile. "It sure can be." She tilted her head. "Why? Are you thinking about letting Mike or Eric stamp your v-card? They both looked like they'd be happy to oblige."

"What? No!" I was so glad I hadn't taken a sip of water at that moment.

"Why not?"

I blurted, "Why not? Because it's ridiculous. I just met them, and anyway, neither of them is interested in me that way."

Kate shook her head. "Are you blind? My God, they practically had a fight over who would walk you home! Mike never left your side the whole night except to get you refills, and Eric never left, period."

Confused, I hesitantly said, "They were just being nice, you know, friendly."

Kate exhaled, clearly exasperated. "Bella, how can you be so naïve? A college guy is not 'friendly' to a pretty college girl unless they're related or he's trying to get in her pants."

I giggled. "Well, there you go. You just proved my point."

Now she looked confused. "Huh? How?"

"Well, you said a 'pretty' college girl. I'm not pretty, so they were just being nice." I flopped back on the bed, my spurt of energy used up.

Kate pressed her lips together. "You really are blind. Didn't you date at all in high school?"

"Just Jake. I told you about him. That didn't go so well."

"And no one else ever asked you out?"

"Um, maybe once or twice, but nobody I was really interested in. People kind of assumed Jake and I were an item, even before and after those few months we were actually dating. And well, you know…"

"What do I know?"

I hated that she was asking me to say it, and I glared at her as I replied, "Just look at me! I'm plain, skinny, and boring. Guys don't go for girls like me."

To my surprise, instead of admitting that I had a point, Kate looked…angry. "Where did you get this horrible self-image? You're none of those things. I swear, by the time this year is over, you're going to see clearly."

I was puzzled and too worn out to think any more. "What are you talking about? See what?" My words were starting to slur as sleep beckoned.

Kate's face softened as she realized I was fading fast. "Never mind for now. Go ahead and rest. But don't think I won't bring this up again," she warned.

I couldn't figure out why she'd want to continue talking about this topic, but I was too exhausted to argue any more. I rolled over and went back to sleep.

~IN~

Within a few weeks, I was forced to admit that Kate was right—Mike and Eric weren't just being "friendly."

Mike invited me to come watch his games and meet up with him afterward, even though, as a freshman, he rarely played. I wasn't a big sports fan, but I liked going to live games; the atmosphere when I was right there just pulled me in, even if I wasn't sure exactly what was going on. Eric seemed to be around so regularly when I went Swemming—studying at Swem library—that I suspected hidden stalker tendencies. Neither of them actually asked me on a date, though, until almost Thanksgiving.

I'd agreed to go with Mike to the last home game before the holiday, knowing that once we were back, I'd be focusing on finals. As we walked over to the Phi O house for the post-game bash, he cleared his throat. "So, I was thinking, maybe we could get some dinner tomorrow night?"

Of course, being me, I misunderstood. "Sure, you want to meet at the Caf around 6?" I said, naming the school's main cafeteria.

He cleared his throat again. Is he getting sick? He seems to cough a lot.

"Um, no. I meant, we could go out somewhere—not the Caf." At my blank look, he elaborated, "Just the two of us. A date."

The light dawned, and I felt a blush heat my face at how slow I'd been. Thoughts streaked through my mind as I tried to come up with my answer. My first thought was how to let him down easily. But before I said anything to that effect, I caught myself. Why should I say no? He was a nice guy, I liked him, and I even found him sort of attractive. No sparks flew, like my favorite books described—but how did I know that kind of spark was even real? Why did a first date have to equal a commitment in my head? It was just dinner, for crying out loud. I didn't even have to kiss him unless I wanted to.

"That—that'd be nice. Thanks." I glanced at him a little shyly, but when I saw the smile on his face as he realized I'd accepted, I looked at him fully and smiled back. This could be fun—give it a chance.

~IN~

On the last day of the semester, Kate and I both completed our finals, and we planned to celebrate. She critiqued my outfit, as usual, but I no longer found it annoying—she had a lot more fashion savvy than I did, and she knew how to dress me up without making me uncomfortable.

We walked across campus to the delis to start our evening. Until I got to William & Mary, I'd never thought that a cluster of delis would be a central social gathering spot, but it worked here. We had a quick...discussion...about which one to go to. She liked Paul's and I preferred the College Delly. I won. We settled into a booth with our sandwiches and a pitcher of beer, courtesy of Kate's fake ID.

Kate had been following my few dates with Mike with avid curiosity, and I wasn't surprised when the topic came up. "How are things with Mike?"

I groaned and countered, "How are things with Peter?" They didn't seem to be serious, but she seemed to like hooking up with him every so often. I gathered he was pretty good in the sack.

Kate snorted. "Don't give me that. You'd blush ten shades of red and probably run out of this place if I actually answered that question. Come on, talk. I've seen you scribbling away in that journal of yours. If you can write that much, you can spill a little now."

Sure enough, her just saying that I'd blush caused the heat to rise in my cheeks, which her mention of my journal only intensified. Cursing my pale skin, I muttered, "It's not a diary-type journal; I just write what I feel like writing about. It's almost never about my own life." She looked at me patiently, letting me know that she wouldn't be sidetracked. "All right, all right. It's..okay. He's a nice guy. We have fun together."

"Fun? How much fun?"

I glared. "Not that much. We hang out, we...kiss." I could have continued, He tried to cop a feel but took it well when I pushed his hand away. He didn't dump me for it and he hasn't pushed again...yet. That had been just before finals, our last date before I put him off by saying I needed to buckle down to studying. I felt bad for thinking that way, as if he was an obligation that I tried to get out of. He was a really nice guy, I liked kissing him, and I liked spending time with him. But I didn't really have any strong urge to do more than kiss, and it was starting to feel horribly like the situation with Jacob—though at least I didn't have a lifelong friendship at risk. I honestly wasn't sure what I wanted anymore. I was hoping to use the month-long winter break to try and figure that out.

Kate looked at me searchingly for a moment. I got the feeling she inferred quite a bit from the eight words I'd spoken aloud. Demonstrating her formidable perception, she asked, "Is that what you want? To hang out and kiss?"

I groaned. "I don't know; what else should I want? We've only had a few dates over less than a month. Isn't a little early to think it should be more?"

I should have known she'd pick up on what I'd inadvertently revealed. "Not necessarily. But if you're asking that question, you're thinking along those lines. Do you feel like it should be more?"

Feeling at a loss, I sighed and looked down at the table. As I tried to formulate an answer, we were joined by two of Kate's sorority sisters, sophomores Tanya and Irina, whom I'd gotten to know and like. They all looked uncannily similar—tall and gorgeous, with blond hair ranging from Kate's white-blond to Tanya's strawberry to Irina's gold. I felt like the token brunette at the table, and despite Kate's makeover efforts, a little out of place with them. Not that they were nasty to me—at all—I just knew I was out of their league.

"What's up?" Tanya asked as they sat down with their sandwiches and poured a couple of beers.

Kate responded before I could try and redirect the conversation. "Bella's trying to decide what she wants from Mike."

I looked up, surprised. Is that what I'm trying to figure out? I would never have put it like that, but I guess that's what it is. It seemed so strange to me to focus on what I wanted from a guy—I was usually worried about whether I was enough for him, not vice versa. With an effort, I tried to articulate why I was so hesitant.

"Well, he's kind of hard to talk to, and he gets bored with things I like. He's not stupid, but he's not...deep, I guess you could say. Like, he asked me to pick the movie for our second date, and I really wanted to see The King's Speech, so that's what I picked. I actually had to nudge him once during the movie because, not only did he nod off, he snored loud enough that other people could hear him."

The other girls laughed loud and long. After a few minutes, I continued, "I mean, I know absolutely nothing about football, but I don't fall asleep during his games. And when we had dinner for our first date, we talked about the one class we have together, the literature class? And I mentioned one of the poems we'd just covered and you'd have thought I was speaking another language." As the others giggled, I sighed. Trying to be fair, I added "It's not all bad—not at all. He can be really sweet, he's not arrogant like a lot of jocks, and he's...caring...protective of me, without making me feel smothered or incompetent. Maybe I'm just expecting too much, too soon. I really like kissing him...I'm just not sure..."

Suddenly curious, and realizing I had three perfect resources to tap for help with my dilemma, I uttered the first question that came to mind. "How do you know when you want to go to bed with a guy?"

Tanya answered first. I don't think she knew how to spell nervous, it was so foreign to her. "Depends on what I'm looking for. If I'm just looking to get off, blow off steam, then I look for someone who seems like he knows what he's doing in bed but who is also responsible enough not to have picked up an STD. Then we have to have some chemistry—does the flirting flow? Do I notice his body? Is he checking out mine and responding? Do the first touches—kisses, light caresses—go well? If you mean someone to have a relationship, then more long-term things come into play. Do we have interests in common? Do we treat each other with respect? Do we want similar things in life? Of course, that's mostly hypothetical. I'm not looking for that now."

Gazing at her seriously, I followed up. "For your first time, how did you know you wanted him?"

Tanya laughed. "Oh, honey, I didn't pick him as my first; it was just time. I mean, he was a nice guy—we dated through most of high school—but we were mostly curious and hormonal."

"Hmm." I felt vaguely dissatisfied. I didn't think I had any trouble with my hormones, but the combination of them and my curiosity had never even come close to making me want to sleep with anyone in high school. I turned to Irina. "How about you? Do you mind my asking? I know this is really personal."

She shook her golden hair back as she tilted her head and looked at me. "Are you asking about now, or about my first?"

"Both, I guess," I replied, blushing a little.

She paused, gathering her thoughts. She was generally a much more private person than Tanya; I was surprised she hadn't taken me at my word and said she'd prefer not to talk. "My first was my high school sweetheart. We went steady through high school, went to all the school dances, hung out with each other's families. We did the deed after junior prom—the whole cliché—and stayed together for senior year. When I started here last year and he was across the state, we swore we loved each other and wouldn't let the distance matter. And maybe just distance wouldn't have, but we started growing apart. It just got too hard trying to keep something going with someone hundreds of miles away. We both felt like we were missing out on things that were happening right where we were, waiting for a phone call, and then we'd fight if one of us missed the phone call. He got really into caving, and I'm claustrophobic, which he knows, but he kept saying we should do it the next time we were together. I started getting into the live music scene, you know, eclectic, indie stuff—but he's strictly top 40 and hated when I played the CD's I'd picked up. Over winter break, we realized we just didn't have that much in common any more, and we broke up."

She took a sip of her beer before continuing. "It still hurt a lot. Even though it was fuzzy, I'd pictured a future with him. When I got back for spring semester, I went a little crazy. I fucked just about any guy who asked, telling myself I was making up for lost time. But I was just trying to distract myself. Now...I guess you could say I'd like a friends-with-benefits relationship. I don't want to get caught in the trap of planning a future with someone when I'm in such a transitory place in my life. I have too much changing to do. I'm not looking for 'true love,' whatever that is, until I've established myself." She must have seen my shock at how open she was being, because she added, "I don't talk about this a lot, but I think you're wise to ask questions, get some different perspectives."

Kate added her two cents. "The most important thing is not to copy anyone else. None of us is you, so we can only share our experiences and opinions. What's right for any one of us isn't necessarily what would make you happy. What you were saying before—feeling a need for more—well, if that's how you feel, be true to that. Don't feel you have some deadline to meet for your first time; that's just silly. You'll know when you're ready and who with."

The conversation turned to plans for break. I was thoughtful as we finished our sandwiches and the pitcher that Kate and I had started. Then, in lieu of ordering another pitcher, we decided to splurge and move over to the Green Leafe, which had a little more variety in the drinks. We got a pitcher of margaritas, which went down a lot more smoothly than the beer had.

I soon realized it was a lot sneakier, too. By my second glass, I felt like I was floating, and by my third, the cafe was looking a little blurry. My friends and I also seemed to be remarkably witty, and the laughter flowed as easily as the tequila. I remembered dimly that I'd sworn not to get drunk again after my first hangover, but surely that had been caused by the yucky beer I'd been drinking that night. These yummy margaritas wouldn't have the same effect.

A few hours later, kneeling in front of the toilet in the dorm bathroom, I discovered I was right: it wasn't the same effect at all—it was much worse. As my stomach emptied itself, I felt a vague gratitude that my hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

When I was done, I flushed and hauled myself to the sink. After splashing some cold water on my face, I brushed my teeth with as much toothpaste as would fit on the brush. The image in the mirror struck me as downright pitiful: makeup smudged, skin with a green tinge, and expression about as miserable as I could remember feeling since I'd arrived in Williamsburg. Having my mouth taste better gave me enough energy to wash the makeup off, so I wouldn't wake up looking like a raccoon. I started to leave the bathroom, but remembering my last encounter with too much alcohol, I turned back long enough to gulp some ibuprofen and a glass of water.

I stumbled back out to the bedroom to see Kate stretched out on her bed, snoring lightly. I called softly, not wanting to wake her unless she'd been waiting for the bathroom, "Kate? The bathroom's all yours if you want it." I paused, no answer. "Kate!" Still nothing. Let her sleep. Let me sleep, too. Just a few steps.

I made it to my bed, stripped off my clothes, left them where they lay, and pulled a t-shirt on over my panties. I curled up in bed and pulled the covers up. Considering my state not twenty minutes earlier, I felt amazingly cozy. Just before I drifted off, I had enough presence of mind for two coherent thoughts. First, I was grateful I didn't leave for Forks until the day after tomorrow, so I had some recovery time. And second, I had to make some time for reflection over break about where I wanted to take things with Mike.

~IN~

A/N: So, we start to see a little more of what makes Bella tick. What do you think? Wanna see how Edward's first semester is going? Next chapter is in the works.

I still won't promise a specific update schedule because my real life is just too hectic and unpredictable, but I'm going to give a three-week schedule a try. Yes, I know, that's a LOT quicker than the four months after the contest it took to get the first chapter up or the almost three months for chapter 2, but I've discovered WCs—they're great and keep me focused! I'm on twitter, (at) SqueakyZorro, so if it looks it'll be longer, I'll tweet.

Let me know what you liked—and what you didn't; that's how I grow as a writer. Yeah, that little button below—just click it and type a few words. :) Thanks for reading! And thanks even more for reviewing!