Gird your loins, ladies.

Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, I own this story. Please to not be copying it.

Three

My Uncle Mick is kind of a freak. Not in the literal sense - he doesn't have a third eye or six nipples or anything. But at almost sixty-two he still gets up at the ass crack of dawn every morning to surf. He plays tennis on the weekends, and volunteers at the surf lifesaving club. He also feels the need to walk around the house in just a towel, and likes to smack my Aunt Jessie on the ass, making her giggle. He's an eighteen-year-old boy stuck in the body of a sixty-year-old man. But he's a good guy; warm, friendly, and funny – even if it is just old-man joke funny.

Another annoying fact about my aunt and uncle: they seem to know every-freaking-one in town. Sitting outside Mint, the town's best pub/bar/restaurant, they practically draw a crowd as people stop to chat. They both introduce me of course, but frankly, I'm too busy checking out the hot barman to give a shit.

I've been in Clearwater for almost a week now, and he's one of the first cute guys I've seen. He's tall - really tall, definitely over six foot - and has a mop of dark brown hair that's been pulled up and tied back, exposing the shaved sides of his head. He keeps fiddling with a piercing on his lower lip, popping it in and out of his mouth as he concentrates on pouring a beer.

"Bella?"

"Huh?"

Jessie looks over her shoulder, and then turns back to me, grinning knowingly.

"Jasper's a bit of a hunk, isn't he?"

Groaning quietly, I avert my eyes from the cute bartender, and spear a piece of cucumber with my fork.

"You are such a perv."

She chuckles quietly, her shoulders jiggling as she tries to hide it.

"What? I might be old, but I'm not blind, Bells. Anyway, all the girls in town think Jasper's cute."

"All the more reason for her to stay away," interrupts Mick, giving Jessie a stern look. "Charlie would take me out the back paddock if I let this one get in trouble."

Rolling her eyes, Aunt Jessie pokes out her tongue. "Oh, boo to you. Let the girl have some fun."

"Can we stop talking about my love life please? It's awkward and creepy."

"Alright," says Jessie, her hands up in defense. "Don't get your knickers in a knot."

"How's the job hunting?" asks Uncle Mick, swallowing the last half of his beer in one gulp.

"Okay, I guess," I say with a shrug, watching the cute barman talk to a pretty blonde behind the bar. "I'm trying not to be picky, but there's just not much around right now."

I've never been much of a career girl. Since I left school six years ago I've had four jobs. I worked in childcare for a while, until I realised I don't like kids. Then I worked at a coffee shop for a while, except that I used to burn the food and got fired for being rude to customers. I also tried working as a receptionist, and in a restaurant. But, needless to say, neither of them worked out either. Part of my mission in Clearwater, in my new life, is to figure out just what the shit I want to do with it.

So far, it's not going that well.

Nodding, Mick takes a big bite of his steak sandwich, wiping a smear of beetroot and mayonnaise from his whiskery cheek. "Things will pick up once the season starts in a few months."

The sun is warm on my back, but I forgot to put sunscreen on, and I can feel my skin starting to prickle under its intense glare. Shifting, I try to maneuver myself into the shade of the umbrella above us.

"Why don't you see if Ben has something?"

"Who?" I ask around a mouthful of chicken.

Jessie looks around, and for a moment I freak out, thinking that she's going to call this Jasper guy over. Thankfully, she doesn't. Instead, she calls over Ben, a short guy with crazy blonde hair – who apparently owns the place. He's the epitome of the surfer type; with dark tanned skin and wayward sun-bleached hair that reaches past his chin.

"Hey, Jess, Mick. Everything okay?"

"Everything's spot on, thanks Ben," replies my Uncle. "How's Ange?"

Ben smiles and his eyes soften immediately, a look of awe in his expression. "She's doing well. Six weeks to go."

"Six weeks?" shrieks Jessie, startling most of the people around us, me included. "Bloody hell, that went fast."

Ben nods in agreement. "Tell me about it."

"You need a refill, Mick?" he asks, taking Uncle Mick's empty pot glass.

Mick waves a hand, shaking his head. "Nah. Ben, this is my niece Bella. Bella, this is Ben. He owns this place."

With a mouth full of salad, I shake his hand politely.

"You guys looking for any work over the season? Bella here needs a job."

Way to be subtle, Uncle Mick. I cringe, giving him a bitchy side-eye.

Smiling, Ben crosses his arms over his barrel-like chest.

"Well, can you pull a beer, Bella?"

I nod vigorously.

"And you've got your RSA?"

I nod again. "I worked at a pub for a while." Yet another job on the list.

Ben rubs his hand over his chin, considering it. "You available tomorrow night?"

Sitting up straight, I nod again.

"Alright," he says with a smile. "You can do a shift tomorrow night. There's an eighteenth at the bar next door, and a hen's party upstairs. We'll do a trial run and see how you go, yeah?"

Holy shit.

When Ben leaves the table, I turn and give Uncle Mick a bone-crushing hug – bitchy side-eye be damned!

The blistering sun suddenly doesn't seem so hot and the day feels brighter at the idea of a job on the horizon.

Gainful employment? Check.

Well, hopefully.

I spread my towel on the warm sand, and throw my things down beside it before slipping my shirt off over my head. It feels a little weird being almost naked in public, and although my bikini top covers me, I'm still a hideous shade of lily-white and a little self conscious.

Even at two in the afternoon on a weekday, there's still a bunch of surfers out in the deeper water. I watch them mess around, pushing each other off their boards as they wait for a wave. I wonder what it must be like, riding that relatively small piece of foam, completely at the ocean's mercy as they bob and weave through the water, waiting to be spat out at the end.

A mother and her little one sit nearby, the little girl in a cute little one-piece dotted with yellow flowers. A matching yellow hat sits on her tiny head, and she screams, giggling as the waves chase her up the shore, her chubby little legs kicking out in front of her as she runs.

Lying on my towel, I type out a few quick texts to some friends at home, scan Facebook for anything interesting, stopping very briefly to check Jake's page. It's not stalking, it's just curiosity. After another hour or so of people watching and listening to my iPod, I pack my things up and decide to walk home along the beach, rather than through town.

A few metres from the water, a group of surfers walk by; wetsuits on their hips, dripping with water and exhausted smiles.

I walk on, my thongs dangling from my fingers, my t-shirt still stuffed in my beach bag.

"Hey."

I look up to see a guy beside me; suit slung low, a surfboard tucked under his arm.

"Hey," I reply politely.

He keeps walking backwards beside me as I continue on, grinning at me as I look at him confused.

"You right?" I ask.

He nods. "I'm fine, thanks. You?"

I can't help but smile despite myself. He's got a cheeky grin, and his wet hair keeps flopping over his eyes, only to be thrown backwards as he flicks his head to get it out of the way.

"Fine," I chuckle. "Thanks for asking."

"I'm Edward, by the way." He holds his hand out, and I'm amazed he doesn't fall flat on his ass as he continues to walk backwards, never faltering. He's very cute, with his grey-blue eyes and tanned skin, but this has to be the lamest attempt at a pick-up I've ever encountered.

I look at his outstretched hand. "I'm taken. But thanks anyway."

"Ohhhh," he groans, clutching a hand to his bare chest. "You going to use the fake boyfriend line on me? I'm hurt."

"You're game is what you are. How do you know I don't have a muscled-up footy player boyfriend around here?"

"Cuz I've been watching you since you sat down on the beach a few hours ago. And you turned up without a muscled-up footy player." He wiggles his eyebrows at me suggestively, and I smile through my shock. I'm momentarily stunned that he noticed me, maybe even a little flattered. He laughs at my expression, his head thrown back, perfect teeth and pretty eyes sparkling in the sun. There's something boyish and intensely charming about the way he looks at me, something that makes my insides turn and my palms sweat.

I'm about to give him another mouthful, when his friends call out to him from further down the beach.

"You're not even going to give me your name?" he asks.

"You're kind of a pest, you know that?"

He shrugs. "I like to call it persistent."

The waves splash up around my ankles as I pretend to think about it.

"Come on...I'll leave you alone if you tell me your name." He smiles, tucking a corner of his lip under his teeth.

"Ooh, tempting."

His friends call him again, and he waves at them, looking frustrated. I take that as my cue to exit, trying to slip away while his attention is diverted.

"Hey, wait! Nothing? Not even a hint?"

"Becca. My name is Becca."

He stands still as I walk on. "Bye, Becca!"

I wave a hand over my shoulder. "Bye, Edward."

Tiff and Meg tell me where the semi-colons go. Then I forget and put them wherever I like. They don't get mad and for that I love them both. Thimbles and Ink hold my hand and flail with me - often - cos I'm flaily like that.

Thank you for all the lovely reviews, it's nice to see some Aussie faces out there.