Usual Disclaimer: Recognizable characters are the creation of Ms Meyer.

"His coaches call him the most dynamic athlete they've ever seen. Expectations are high for the Huskies this year, based almost entirely on Cullen's 'dynamic' presence in the pocket." - The Bleacher Blog

~Bella~

"It's destiny, Bella. Swear to God, pure destiny." Alice's awed voice had me jerking forward and leaning into the space between the two front seats of her bright yellow Camaro for a better view.

Alice sat behind the wheel of the car. I'd claimed the back, leaving Meagan the passenger seat for an easier exit. Usually the teen caught a ride with her friend Shawna after practices, but when needed we offered up our chauffeuring services. We'd stopped at a light a couple of blocks from Meagan's turn off when Alice made her almost reverent declaration. Eyes glued straight ahead, the best friend wavelength in full effect, I squinted at the car that had fixed Alice's rapt fascination.

Edward Cullen turned from the cross street into the road ahead of us. Normally, I'm not sure I would have even noticed who sat behind the wheel of the dilapidated white car. Tonight, with the sun making its last stand in the twilight sky and the streetlights already glowing, the old Volvo station wagon snagged my attention as easily as it had fixed Alice's. It was possible the smoke puffing from under the hood helped. Or more likely, our hot guy radar pinged on the driver, who then held us spellbound.

"I think that car is dying," Meagan observed, proving she was not oblivious to our mesmerized stares.

No sooner had the words left her lips than the vehicle pulled over to the right shoulder, wispy white smoke trailing behind like a white flag of surrender.

I fought a full-blown groan. Yes, my obsession with the quarterback had bordered on stalkerdom the last two years, but it'd been from a comfortable distance. There was no chance – zilch, zero – that Alice would allow this moment of "destiny" to pass at a comfortable distance. The traffic light turned green, and Alice eased the Camaro up behind the Volvo. She practically bounced behind the wheel while I surreptitiously avoided eye contact with the curious Meagan.

Edward unfolded from behind the driver's seat, breaking my trance. The silence in our car was deafening, but the moment felt surreal. Not two hours ago, I'd promised Alice I'd be "open" to Edward Cullen. While I hadn't thought out exactly what being "open" really entailed—this would require a pile of M&Ms and a suitably dramatic playlist in the solitary comfort of my dorm room—it had definitely not meant running across said guy before I'd had a chance to do so. It definitely didn't mean picking up said guy off the side of the road.

Alice lowered her window as he approached. "Need a ride?"

Even in the uneven light of the passing car headlights, I could see the scowl on his face. Maybe he'd see Alice, not recognize her from class and decline the lift. I held my breath, unsure if I wanted him to recognize her or not. My gaze fixed on the jut of his jaw as his expression tightened. "Yeah," he said in his quiet voice.

Alice scooched forward until she had practically mounted the steering wheel, the seat flipped forward to bounce against her back. A second later, she realized that Edward, over six feet of well-honed physique, would have no chance of squeezing through that tiny space. As Alice hopped out and shoved the seat all the way forward and he folded his long frame into the seat beside me, I stared at Meagan's seatback and tried to remember to breathe.

One of the many things flitting through my brain involved doing my best friend bodily harm. It was unlikely I would ever actually follow through with any of the twisted fantasies currently coursing through my warped brain, but thinking about them provided a welcome distraction. Because reconciling my promise to Alice with the reality of sharing a backseat with my fantasy guy was situation overload, intoxication in an out-of-control, no-rational-thought kind of way.

"Appreciate the lift."

God, that voice, at once soft, quiet and highly masculine. My skin prickled, thoughts of best friend torture fading as my inner whore perked up.

Alice flipped the car into gear and we eased back into traffic. "Campus okay?"

"Yeah."

"We've got to drop Meagan off, then to the Alpha Gam house."

"Works for me."

Alice fiddled with the radio then, and I started to acutely feel my silence. I searched for something to say, nervously flipping the zipper on my beat up derby equipment bag over and over.

"Seattle Slammers?"

My gaze snapped up to find Edward watching my actions, his eyes on the faded logo decorating the bag. The intermittent illumination from the street lamps lit and shadowed him in an oddly mesmerizing rhythm. Somehow the shadowy flashes seemed to give me enough of a respite—my own shadow to hide within—that I managed to drag my tongue into functioning. "Yeah," I said. "Seattle Slammers. Local roller derby team."

"Thought you had to be butch to sign up for that shit."

"Are you serious?" Surely not. My nervousness died a quick death. Was I suddenly trapped in the car with a bigoted relic? "Did you really just say butch?"

He slouched deeper into the seat, his torso angled to almost face me. "Yup."

Meagan snapped at him from the front seat. "Cliché much, dude?"

Words tumbled from my lips before the realization fully formed in my mind, a mumbled disappointment. "I think you've just ruined my image of Edward Cullen, star quarterback."

Edward bumped his knees against Alice's seatback, searching and failing to find a way to get his large frame comfortable in the minimal space. He responded to Meagan's censure, but his heavy-lidded green gaze didn't stray from me. His low rumble held a hint of challenge when he spoke. "Tell me there's at least a lot of skin and I'm in."

That comment cinched it. He was yanking my chain, had to be. And being so completely un-PC about it. Part of me was intrigued that he would go out of his way to be an ass. Another part couldn't let him get away with the derogatory comment, especially with sweet, conflicted Meagan in the front seat. "Making a joke of someone's sexual preference is inappropriate."

"So no girl on girl action down at the derby?"

Alice giggled nervously as she steered into Meagan's driveway.

"Ha." Edward smirked. "That's a guilty laugh."

I held my tongue as Meagan leapt out of the car, slamming the door behind her. It wasn't like her to be so unsociable, but then she knew as well as Alice and I who Edward was. Having a local hero act like a ignorant moron probably incited her to rudeness. I felt her pain. "That," I snapped as we pulled out of the girl's neighborhood and toward campus, "was not a guilty laugh. That was a silly girl-in-car-with-Edward-Cullen giggle."

"Bella!" Alice shrieked.

He barked out a surprised laugh. "Then why aren't you giggling?"

I knew he was arrogant. Had actually thought I'd found it attractive in the past. Experiencing that arrogance first-hand was eye-opening. "Guess I'm immune."

"Or you're the cliché."

My fantasy guy was questioning my sexuality. How had this happened? I gritted my teeth, leaned forward and forgot all about hiding in the shadows. "Being a lesbian is not the only reason a girl wouldn't giggle in your presence. Maybe I'm just not a giggler."

Up front, Alice snorted, eyes wide in the rear view mirror. Edward gave another low laugh, rocking Alice's seat. The innately masculine sound rippled over my senses and left a heated awareness in its wake. I wanted to make him laugh again, but hated this conversation.

"That snort says your girl there doesn't believe you any more than I do. All girls are gigglers and hair tossers and eyelash flutterers. It's in your DNA or something."

"I never-" Alice sputtered.

I cut her off. "Okay, then. Guess I just save my giggles for those that I actually find amusing. Not overly arrogant, ridiculously ignorant football players we find stranded on the side of the road."

Light flashed, illuminating the perfect angles of his face. Was this really happening? Was this really me? In a verbal spar with Edward Cullen over his use of a ludicrous slur, one I wasn't sure he hadn't used purposely for its ability to incite high emotion? For the first time in two years, I felt as though my mind could function in his presence—angrily, yet functioning. But I wasn't this bitchy girl. And I hated the possibility that he could be that kind of guy. One who would use a word like butch in the most awful way. I wanted him down from the pedestal on which I'd placed him, but not in the gutter of the irredeemable.

He knew how girls responded to him, accepted it as normal and typical for all girls. And to be honest, until this moment, I had probably been worse than most. After all, for two long years I'd never even been able to speak to him, much less flutter my lashes. I struggled to pull my thoughts together. I'd locked Edward Cullen into a perfectly imperfect fantasy man. That fantasy did not mesh well with the jerk beside me. A jerk who either possessed a clever tongue and sadistically teasing mind or a moronic, backwards thinker.

But, crap, now I was fixated on the idea of his clever tongue. My inner whore did a sultry little wiggle that had my belly tightening.

"So you're saying you don't find me amusing...?"

"Bella," Alice chimed in helpfully.

"...Bella." His clever tongue curled around my name, turning it into the most erotic of invitations. And just like that, it wasn't just my inner whore doing the wiggling. All thought flitted away, leaving me vacant-eyed and mystified.

"Bella's prejudiced," Alice inserted, drawing Edward's attention and giving me a moment to regroup. Thank God for Alice.

"Prejudiced how?" he asked, his unnerving regard turning again in my direction. We'd nearly made it back to campus, finally turning down Sorority Row, and I didn't know if I was relieved or disappointed.

My heart started pounding, and I lunged across the space between the two front seats and fumbled with the music. What was Alice trying to do? Mortify me? I had no idea what buttons I was pushing, but when the harsh beats of Ace Hood and Bugatti pounded into the cab of the car, I was grateful. I fell back into my seat, only to groan when Alice instantly turned the volume down.

Good God, from bitch to spaz. End me now.

"Any...um...how to say...feminine wiles? Yeah, feminine wiles, are lost on her. She doesn't see the point and thinks those that do—the gigglers and hair flippers, I mean—are using such manipulations to distract people from some other deficit in their personality." Alice spoke like she was reading from a script. Something in her tone had me staring at the back of her head. I didn't think I'd ever said anything straight out like that before, but yeah, that was pretty much what I thought. And yeah, I'd been at the head of the anti-plastic brigade, who were the worst of the offenders. But the hint of censure in Alice's voice had me wondering if I had at some point offended my best friend. She could be flirty and if I thought about it, yes, she could flip her hair with the best of them, but it had never seemed wrong or manipulative when she did it.

"Yeah, that is a prejudice."

My attention snapped back to Edward. He spoke, hooded green gaze lazily coasting over my entire length, cramped up behind the vacant passenger seat. "We all have our strong points, those things we do well. Nothing wrong with making the most of what God gave you." His gaze lingered on my chest and like a match to a flame, my temper ignited.

"Yeah, like a brain?"

"And tight t-shirts and short shorts."

I immediately thought of Irina and her cleavage, but before I could articulate a response, Edward cocked a dark brow and made another pointed perusal, lingering this time on my legs which were propped against the seat in front of me. Surely in this position he couldn't really see enough of me to judge? But the way his eyes drifted, the way his lips slid up in a seemingly appreciative curl, I felt displayed, revealed...and, shamefully, flattered.

"You may talk your shit, Bella, but you still manage to put on a show, don't you?"

Suddenly, the car came to a jarring stop and my bag slid off the backseat. Still flustered, I instinctively reached for it. My head knocked into his as he did the same.

"Oh!"

"Shit." He laughed, hauling my bag back onto the seat between us. "Hard head there, babe."

I felt the heat rush to my cheeks, heard Alice laugh as she launched herself out of the car. She spoke into the open door. "You have no idea."

In seconds, Edward had the seatback up and had hauled himself out of the car. With a two-fingered salute, he was gone.

~FotW~

Not much later, I crawled into bed in the quiet of my dorm. A splash of light from an all-night streetlight outside bled across the ceiling, giving me something to stare at as I tried to calm my mind. My roommate shifted on her bed across the room, the sound familiar, welcome. Angela, my roommate, was turning out to be a great one, and we were slowly becoming friends. My first year at UDub, Alice had been my roommate. Last year Alice moved into her sorority house and I'd been stuck with a crazy wench I preferred to forget ever existed. While many students moved on to apartments or sorority houses, I liked the dorm. It was simple, uncomplicated.

I stared up at the unchanging swath of faded light, thinking that it was easy to be brave in the shadowy confines of Alice's car, but come tomorrow, I'd have to face Edward in the harsh light of class.

Would he acknowledge me? And would it be as a member of his study group, or as the girl who helped give him a lift home? One had trouble speaking even a simple syllable while the other laced every syllable with snark. Neither was really me. Of course, I didn't think he'd recognize me as one of the girls in his study group. He was cocky enough to probably think nothing of getting in a car with two female strangers—even though we were obviously students. Grams would say something about sacrificing common sense for a pretty face.

Except reliving my angry responses to his offensive lesbian comments made me more and more certain he'd been messing with me the entire time. If that were true, even Grams could appreciate a sense of humor that poked at my sometimes overly serious nature, if not his particular vocabulary choice.

There at the end, when he'd purposefully given me the once over—what was that about? There was no way I could have been considered attractive at that moment. I'd challenge any woman to look good straight off the rink, sweaty and slumming in grungy shorts and tank. And yet, his gaze had lit with some unreadable glint as he'd eyed me in the backseat.

I needed to calm down. I was overanalyzing something that had no meaning. No depth. Yes, in my world, being assigned to Cullen's study group was momentous. Being in the car that gave him a lift bordered on life changing. For him, it was an average couple of days, par for the course.

Grams had always accused me of being a bit dramatic, even reactionary.

Tomorrow I had to begin to live up to my promise to Alice and be "open" to Edward. I still didn't know what that meant. I did know that, teasing or authentic, I'd enjoyed the verbal sparring tonight. I'd enjoyed his perusal even more. Part of me shuddered, chafing at the notion of succumbing to his gross female objectification. But a larger chunk of me savored the idea that Edward thought I could put on a show.

~FotW~

I jogged every single morning. And I hated it. I hated getting up early or staying up late. I hated dragging my lazy behind around the campus trails, getting all hot and sweaty and disgusting.

But I absolutely loved Pinkie's coffees. With real cream and sugar. Maybe even a chocolate chip muffin in the mornings. I loved each and every one of those calories, so I jogged. I'd clawed my way out of bed bright and early this morning, paid my dues in sweat, just so I could stop by Pinkie's on the way to my A&M class. The first class where Edward might actually acknowledge my presence.

I crossed campus quickly, making a beeline for the most beloved coffee cart in the Pacific northwest as the rare Seattle sun peeked through clouds and shared a little more heat and optimism for the day. The quad was packed, as usual. I skirted around slower students, angling in front of the fountain. My gaze caught on a familiar form making his way in the same direction, toward Mackenzie Hall for class. I would be cutting off for Pinkie's, parked at the doors of the Odegaard Library, though. But even with those intentions, my pace slowed and my fingers tightened around my messenger bag. In another month, the skies would turn more overcast and drizzly, but for now sunlight glinted off Edward's hair, as if even those rays couldn't resist his unholy charisma.

Ye gods, there I went into romance novel metaphors again.

"Bella!"

My name, loud and jarring, ripped through my thoughts and yanked me to a stop. I turned guiltily toward the sound. Mike waved from the other side of the fountain, walking quickly toward me, swerving around the people between us. Including Edward Cullen. His actions sucked in more than just my attention, and I felt a ridiculous blush fill my cheeks as everyone circling the fountain looked between us, including Edward, before finally, thankfully, going back to ignoring us.

I drew on deep reserves and kept my gaze from flitting back to Edward and instead followed Mike's progress. He had a grin on his face that struck me as a bit goofy, a bit expectant. Why would he be waving me down? Before Tuesday, we'd never exchanged a word. Did he think we would be besties now that we shared a project?

He fell into step beside me. "You're on the Dean's List."

He said it with glee. I squinted a sidelong look at him.

"And honor society." He huffed a satisfied sigh before adding, "Between the two of us, this project will be cake."

I ducked my head, letting my hair fall along my face, giving myself a moment longer to respond. The project would be fine regardless, I thought. "I'm sure it'll be great."

Mike snorted. "If you and I do all the work, yeah."

The scent of rain lingered in the air, even this early in the day, even with the pretty sunshine. My mind drifted as I struggled to find what to say. In a school this size, it was easy to blend in, and I took every advantage of that fact. Being singled out for anything, including scholastic aptitude, annoyed me, reminded me too much of home where my family never failed to be a spectacle. I missed Alice and her ability to buffer and distract. My eyes glanced off the grass hemming in the sidewalk, bright and green. Vibrant. Thriving. I semi-repeated myself, lacking anything better to add, but Mike seemed to require a response. "I'm sure things'll be fine."

I didn't have to look over at him; I could feel his enthusiastic nod. He reminded me of an ungainly puppy, Great Dane or something equally awkward. Suddenly, I felt more comfortable. He was awkward, I realized. In our first study session, he'd been quiet. I'd assumed that was his general persona, but now he exuded perky energy.

"I get why you didn't say anything Tuesday, but you should know I was valedictorian at my high school, too." He laughed loudly, knocking his shoulder against mine as we crossed the quad.

"Yeah?" I murmured, stumbling a little on my heeled sandals. Cullen was still walking somewhere behind us. I knew it, could feel a buzz just under my skin, a weird sort of awareness I had whenever he was near that just seemed heightened after last night. I didn't know exactly where he was, of course, but just knowing he was back there somewhere made me shy away from talking about myself. About how I'd come to be at UW.

I'd graduated high school a year early as a seventeen-year-old valedictorian, and found myself eligible for free-ride scholarships to several schools based on academics. My grandmother asked me to stay close, to attend a school near to home. It was the first time I ever purposefully went against her wishes. She'd been disappointed when I elected to come here, all the way across the continent to Seattle. But I needed to be as far away from home as I could manage, as far away from my past as I could manage, and that meant leaving Georgia.

"I about lost it when I saw the group coming together in class. I mean, Irina? And Cullen...ugh. But then I researched you and, dude, I was like jackpot. You've got every academic achievement I've ever heard of. My dad was ecstatic about my making the dean's list last semester. Your family must be insane."

Yeah, I thought. My mother was insane, which is why Grams kept my reins tight. And yeah, she liked my achievements. Expected them, even. But all I said to Mike was, "Yeah, they're pretty happy."

"Seriously, though, I'm not worried about this project now."

We'd reached Pinkies Coffee Cart and I latched onto the distraction, inhaling deeply and savoring the secondhand caffeine high. I hated thinking about my family and hated people knowing about my academics. I didn't keep things a secret, and Alice certainly teased me enough about being book smart and socially inept, claiming I was one bad fashion choice away from Complete Nerd, but people looked at you differently when they thought you were smarter than them. I was grateful for how easy classwork came and worked hard not to let school become everything in my life. Back home, I'd had no social life. Grams and me and that was it. And I loved Grams to bits, I did. But I knew there was more to be enjoyed, and while I'd never been ostracized, I'd never really been a part of things, either. I'd promised myself to take full advantage of the opportunity to reinvent myself, make friends and experience being normal.

With my new promise to Alice, I was well on my way, I thought.

Mike caught my attention again. "Between you and me, we'll ace this thing. Actually, Cullen's first year, he didn't suck, either..."

He jabbered on and on about how unhelpful he expected our study partners to be in language that was harsh in the way of nerds the world over. In the middle of a particularly ripping tirade against jocks and preferential treatment, I felt him come to stand behind me. Felt the heat of his presence take up space behind me. I would have been hard-pressed to suck in a solid breath had I tried. I wanted to shut Mike up. More than anything, I wanted to shut him up but knew the instant I tried, it would simply draw more attention to his words.

Was that an angry heat or just Edward's normal in-your-face presence? I had no way of knowing and absolutely refused to turn and look. My equilibrium wouldn't be able to handle such up close and personal proximity without the armor of a heavily caffeinated beverage, not so soon after last night. But Mike seemed nice, I thought, just a bit of an academic snob. If Cullen was angry, insulted, would he get physical with the poor guy?

Mike remained oblivious, chattering on and on about how he always researched his study partners. Who did that sort of thing? He said something about his dad being excited for him to be on a project with me and wasn't Seattle so different from Atlanta? He made my Edward stalking seem positively amateurish.

My infrequent mmmhmms must have been enough to keep up my side of the conversation, but I wondered how that could be. And how could I get him to just be quiet? How much more did he know about me and how much more did he have to tell me he knew about me? He'd gone from insulting Edward and Irina to reciting my biography, and as much as I wanted to extricate myself from this one-sided conversation, I wanted my coffee more. No way could I make it through this morning without it, so no way I could just walk away.

The line was long and winding, as usual, but it moved fast enough and every minute or so, we shuffled forward. The heat at my back didn't change and my anxiety began to escalate. I vacillated between hoping Mike would reveal more of his embarrassing research of my academic history and avoid angering Edward to wishing he would stop pointing out all the things that made me different. People bustled in and out of the library, moving into the square beyond us, but Mike kept up his chatter, reciting some award he saw I had and wondering how I'd decided on my essay topic. Really?

A huge, built guy strode past us, his chin lifted and a big smile on his face. My eyes rounded. He seemed to be looking right at me, but then I realized he was sending some sort of coded chin-lift to Edward over my shoulder. Mike still seemed unaware that the guy he was including in his running off at the mouth was also behind us.

"I looked up Cullen's grades, you know, to see if he'd be contributing anything to our group. Believe it or not, he has a respectable average, even after last year. He's got to be paying for it."

A rough laugh sounded behind us, heavy and dangerous. And sharp enough to finally penetrate Mike's happy buzz. I practically felt his shudder when he realized the six-foot-plus guy hulking behind us was the subject of his insulting diatribe.

"Man, seriously?" Edward's two little words, loaded with threat, finally silenced Mike's rambling.

Slanting a look at the slender boy beside me, I saw him clench his eyes together before bravely turning to face Cullen. "Umm..."

"Fuck 'umm,' punk."

Some weird sense of nerd loyalty, mixed liberally with ghoulish curiosity, had me turning with Mike to face the scary-sounding quarterback. The lazy charm that had threaded his voice last night was gone, replaced by a low growl that still managed to stir me.

"You know, man, I'd figure a smart guy like you would realize I'm kinda bigger than him. Probably faster. Definitely stronger." He paused, letting his words sink in for full effect. "And yet, here you are. Fucking with the big, dumb jock."

Cullen seemed to loom into our space, though he didn't step any closer. His words turned soft and menacing. "So even a little punk ass dumbfuck like you should be able to pick out the stupid one in this scenario."

Mike shrank into himself, face pale, scrawny chest rising and falling erratically with his rising panic. I faced Edward, wondering what to say, what to do to make this whole situation unhappen. But he barely spared me a look, his wrath focused entirely on a quaking Mike.

Alice said my problem wasn't really shyness, but rather a simple matter of inexperience. At this moment, I would have to agree with her. I'd never faced down a bully, even one with the right to be angry. I'd been raised by a grandmother who'd faced more than a few disappointments, not the least of which was her daughter, and she'd shared more than a few life lessons. None of them included how to talk down an infuriated, six-foot-plus quarterback.

Grams had guarded her quiet life tooth and nail. So yes, I was sheltered, to say the least. But she'd imbued me with a quiet curiosity and a good sense of right and wrong. Would Edward Cullen, resident football god, really crush scrawny little Mike like he seemed to be threatening? If he tried, could I stop him?

He moved up on Mike, closer, darkly threatening, stark menace in his every exhalation.

I sidestepped, putting myself halfway in front of Mike. "I think-"

Edward's gaze fixed on me. I tilted my head back to meet his stare and saw something flash in his hard, green eyes. The hair on the back of my neck stood up straight and my tongue slipped out to moisten suddenly dry lips. His gaze dipped down. My lips burned and something began to slowly unfurl in my belly. An awareness skirted the edges of my consciousness, but I couldn't quite grasp it until this situation with Mike was less volatile.

"I think," I began again, my voice barely above a whisper, "that Mike understands he made a mistake."

The anger faded abruptly from his face. His lips quirked up in a hint of a smirk. "That so, derby girl?"

That something in my belly gained momentum and warmth seeped through me. "I'm thinking so."

He lifted his hand and I held my breath, waiting for that hand to close into a large fist. But it didn't. Instead, he reached past me, flicked his fingers over Mike's shoulder as though dusting him off.

I felt my eyes widen as this brought him close enough for me to get a whiff of his spearmint gum, and miracle of miracles, I held his burning green gaze when he shifted that intensity back to me.

"I'll give you this one, punk. I owe Bella." The corners of his eyes crinkled and a wicked grin stretched his lips. My pulse raced. He stepped back, gave me a lingering, blatant once over. There was no doubt that he did it to goad me, just as he had, I realized, last night. "Still working your shit, huh, derby girl?"

Just in case I'd missed it the first time, he made a show of licking his upper lip and staring at my legs. My plain brown shorts, slouchy gray tank and creamy lace cardigan were simple and what Alice called hippie chic. Under his frankly appreciative appraisal, my toes curled in my sandals.

"Working your shit. And, babe, I like your tattoo."

And as abruptly as the tensions had risen moments ago, they dissipated. Edward left the coffee line, falling in with a group of students and making his way toward the building housing our class. I heard Mike inhale a shuddering breath. That feeling in my belly melted away. I didn't really understand what had just happened, but it felt like the start of something.

Edward disappeared from view inside the building and I shifted uneasily from foot to foot. A certain Smashing Pumpkins song played faintly in my mind. I was a breath away from looking down, to eying the artwork I knew like the back of my hand. I resisted, but as the familiar riff played in my imagination, the tattooed notes burned along the skin of my foot, hot, intense, portentous.

A/N: I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Project Team Beta-specifically to Jenny and Sweetishbubble for their beta expertise on this chapter. Another treat hosted by PTB is their SmutU online course, through which I met jayhawkbb, author and teacher extraordinaire. She graciously read, provided feedback, and made some fantastic suggestions for this chapter, too. And lastly, thank you, A, my wonderful co-worker who read and reassured. You rock! Of course, I am physically incapable of not tinkering, so any errors, poor additions, whathaveyous, are all my own.

Thanks for reading!