AN: Happy St. Patrick's Day! I'm off to make green pancakes and might have some more of this silly for you later today.
Chapter 10
He called the house at 7:30 on the dot.
"Bells, you have a call?" Chief Charlie poked his head in my door.
I looked up from reading, The Prince by Machiavelli. "Is it my dealer?"
"Jesus, Isabella, why do you have to say that kind of stuff?"
Because it's funny.
He handed me the phone. "Keep it short. You have school tomorrow."
Did he even know me? I never would willingly talk on the phone.
"Yo."
"Bella?"
"Who the hell is this?"
"Edward Cullen."
"Who?"
"Edward!"
"Kid?"
"I'm eighteen!" He exclaimed. "You punched James for me!"
"Ahh yes...punching James Taylor was the highlight of my day." I sighed. "How did you get this number?"
"My dad is chief of surgery and he had your dad's phone number," he stated. "Hi."
"Isn't that against some native American chief code? Don't annoy daughter of Chief by giving digits to son of Chief."
"We aren't Native Americans!" Then he got quiet. "We aren't, are we?"
"I know I'm not." I laid my head on my pillow. I wasn't tired before, but I sure was now.
He continued to ponder. "What music do you like to listen to?"
"Death metal."
I lied.
"Really?" He was quiet for a moment. "I like classical! Bach, Beethoven, Debussy..."
I didn't even stop myself.
"I like alternative and jazz," I admitted.
He laughed. "That's what I thought. You just want to make me laugh!"
"That wasn't the plan."
"So you're going to come over on..."
"No. I'm not you girlfriend, Baseball Boy." He was getting way too pushy.
"You're a girl and my friend! I'll make popcorn!"
I groaned. "You know the friend thing is debatable."
"What is your favorite book?"
It was going to be a long night.