Disclaimer: SMeyer owns Twilight and all the characters, I just make them eat Twisties.

Eleven

"I just don't know how much longer I can handle seeing Mick walk around without a shirt on."

Rose shudders dramatically. "Yuck; wrinkly man boobs."

"That's not even the worst of it," I continue, leaning back against the bar. "I swear; there's more hair in the sink after he shaves than there is on his entire body." Even Paul cringes. "And yesterday, I caught him feeling up Jessie in the kitchen. He had his hand up her top and everything. It was rank."

I've been living with my aunt and uncle for what feels like forever, and lately it's beginning to wear thin. If Mick isn't strutting around in his Speedos, Jessie's bugging me about Edward. Apparently our midnight tryst was not as secret as I thought. Jessie caught me sneaking back in and hasn't let me get through a day without some mention of Edward. Add to that, the fact that she sneaks into my room to pick up my dirty clothes, and I'm about ready to throw a shit-fit. I mean, yeah, at first the novelty of having someone wash my clothes was kind of nice. But the minute I saw Uncle Mick wrestling one of my g-strings from the dog – I figured enough was enough.

"And, I think I've gained, like, five kilos since I moved here," I complain, poking at my stomach. "Eating too many of Jessie's bloody lamingtons."

"Hey, hey," says Ben, holding a hand up in protest. "I won't have you talking shit about those lamingtons. They're bloody legendary around here."

Rose hums in agreement.

"Well, they're making me fat," I complain, pouting.

"Why don't you come out with me in the mornings?" says Rose.

I raise an eyebrow. "Again with the surfing thing?"

She nods.

"I don't know if you've noticed, I kind of have this crippling form of clumsiness. I don't think standing on a foam board in shark infested waters is the best idea."

Even Ben hides a grin; he's seen my ability to trip on thin air first hand.

Her hand on her hip, Rosie turns to me. "One: there are not that many sharks; it's the jellies you have to watch out for. Two: Unless you're on a boogie board, surfboards are made of fibreglass. And anyway, you'd be surprised. Sometimes even the most uncoordinated people make great surfers."

Pretending to contemplate it, I tap a finger against my chin. "Well, I guess drowning would solve my housing issue."

"One day, Swan!" she argues, pointing a finger at me. Rolling her eyes, Rosie returns to her work, but I can see she isn't going to let it go. At some point I'm going to have to give in and let her take me out for some lessons, but until then, I'm going to stick to swimming and boogie boarding in the shallow water.

It's so slow that I end up stealing Rosie's phone and hacking into her Facebook. I'm just about to post a message about her love for cock, when a message pops up.

"Ooh," I tease, waving her phone at her. "You got a message from a boy."

Rosie practically leaps at me, but I'm faster, ducking away at the last minute.

"Not funny, Bella. Give it to me," she says, her arm outstretched, her fingers wiggling in the air.

"Woooo," I swoon, batting my eyelashes. "Who's Tyler? Your booooyfriend?"

Relaxing visibly, Rose rolls her eyes. "You're a mole. Gimme the phone, it's just Jacko."

Confused, I look down at the screen. "But it says Tyler."

"It is Tyler."

"Who's Tyler?"

"Tyler!" she shouts, stomping a foot frustrated. "Tyler. Jacko."

I hand her back the phone. "Jacko's name is Tyler?"

Rose busts into a fit of laughter. "Tyler Jackson."

"Oh."

I'm such a moron.

"I thought his name was Jack."

Rose laughs, shaking her head. "You fucking idiot. I can't wait to tell him that."

I shrug, thinking about all the shit he's going to give me. "My bad."

The clock must be stuck on two-thirty. Every time I look up it hasn't moved, and the afternoon is dragging since there's not much to do. I've wiped the bench a dozen times, and Rosie has cut enough lemon and lime wedges for the next month. Leaning against the bar, I pull my hair up off my shoulders, tying it up in a knot on top of my head. The whirring of the fan overhead isn't doing much but move the warm air around, but Paul is too much of a tight-ass to turn the air conditioners on.

It's been a quiet week, but everyone assures me it's the calm before the storm, the moment of peace before summer hits and the town is overrun with tourists. I can see evidence of summer creeping in already. The days are longer, the mornings brighter, and sunsets seem to last for hours, making the days feel endless. The cool reprieve that the night brings is starting to fade, the lush green of spring beginning to darken and dry.

"You know," says Rosie, interrupting my daydreaming. "You're at our place enough. Why don't you just move in?"

"What? With you and Jasper? No, that's just..." I shake my head, hair tumbling out of the knot, falling over my eyes. I brush it out of my eyes and over an ear. "No, I couldn't."

"Why?" She wrinkles her nose at me, confused. "There's a spare bedroom, and Jasper has his own bathroom. Would you rather watch your uncle cop a feel of Jessie in the kitchen while she's cooking your eggs in the morning?"

I flick at her with a tea towel. "Yuck, no! I'd just feel like I was imposing."

"You wouldn't be," she insists. "It's not like it'd be free anyway. We could always use help with the rent."

Chewing on my bottom lip, I quickly weigh up my options. The way I see it I have three:

Find a house of my own and live off baked beans on toast and two minute noodles while I pay the rent and bills on my own.

Stay with Jessie and Mick and accidentally walk in on them doing things that might scar me for life.

Or, move in with Rosie and Jasper, pay minimal rent, have great housemates, and be closer to work.

"Do you think Jasper would mind?"

"Fuck no."

"Is he going to accidentally walk in on me in the shower?"

She snorts. "Probably."

"Speak of the devil," mumbles Ben.

Jasper slides into a bar stool, his hair still damp, his t-shirt, wet in places, clinging to his body like he's thrown it on without drying himself first. Half a minute later Edward, Riles and Jacko follow, all looking much the same; dishevelled and surf blown.

"How's it?" asks Rosie.

"Nah," replies Edward, lifting himself into the seat beside Jasper. His hair is almost dry, the ends curling around the nape of his neck, the top looking like a mess of golden brown hay. "Water's all chop. Not even worth a go-out."

Rosie makes a noise of frustration, and I just stay quiet, not understanding a word. I just toss them all a bag of chips, throwing Edward the last of the salt and vinegar since I know they're his favourite. He winks at me as the catches the foil packet, and in turn, I lose concentration and a packet of Doritos slaps Jasper in the side of the head.

Edward and I have hung out a handful of times since our night on the beach, snuck a few kisses here and there. It's not that we're being secretive – there's not really anything to tell anyway – but there's something kind of hot about our hastened kisses, stolen in secret moments. I figure if I can keep things relaxed and easy, I won't have to deal with broken hearts or painful breakups. Edward seems happy to just go with the flow. He doesn't press the situation, doesn't try to hold my hand in public. He tells me everyone knows we've been hooking up, but pretend like they don't. Until it's their business, it's none of their business is what he said. And I'm down with that.

The four boys hang around talking shit, mucking around, and generally taking advantage of Ben's hospitality, while he, Rose and I work.

Apart from Jasper and Paul, most of the boys don't work. Riles does some part time stuff labouring for a building company, and Edward – well – I'm not one-hundred percent sure what Edward does most of the time. I haven't seen him at the shop for a while, and Rosie says he does some work for his Dad's surfboard company too, but he never seems to be there either. Generally, if he's not surfing, he's with the boys. And when he's with the boys he's surfing. Saturday mornings he disappears for a few hours, to where he won't tell me, but he always reappears again a few hours later, sun-kissed and smelling like sunscreen.

"So, what's crackin'?" asks Riles, shoving a fistful of Twisties into his mouth, bright orange crumbs collecting on his scruffy beard.

"Bella's moving in," replies Rose, throwing me a grin over her shoulder, daring me to object.

Jasper stops mid-chew, raising a pierced eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes," nods Rose. "Really."

He points at me with his open bag of chips. "You're moving in with us?"

I shrug. "If it's okay with you."

Jasper continues to chew for a moment, deep in thought. For a second I think he's going to say no; come up with some reason for me not to move in.

"How do you feel about naked Sundays?"

Rose and I groan, and even Edward punches him in the arm.

"What?" he asks, rubbing his shoulder. "It's just a suggestion."

"You know what this means, yeah?" says Jacko, a pearly-white grin lighting up his dark skin.

We all wait in silence as he looks at us all like we're idiots.

"Moving in party!" he yells, throwing his hands in the air.

The boys all yell and carry on, banging on the bar and giving each other high-fives. There's talk of jelly shots and beer bongs, and Jasper mentions strippers but gets knocked down pretty quickly. Even Rose looks a little excited, especially when Ben mentions covering the bar while she, Paul, Jasper and I all have the night off.

I guess all that's left to do is tell my aunt and uncle.

Moving in with Jasper and Rose could prove to be either a really great idea - or my worst one yet.

- Twisties: I don't know the US equivalent. They're these mangled looking cheesy potato chip type things. They come in chicken flavour, but no one eats them. Also, the cheese ones dipped in peanut butter and fucking amazeballs.

- Lamingtons: Practically an Aussie icon. Big squares of yellow sponge cake dipped in chocolate icing and then rolled in coconut. You can get them with a little jam in the middle too.

Also, Australian's are much too lazy to call people by their full name; Jacko, Thommo, Patto, Mick - we're all about the nicknames.

Apologies for the delay. I'd originally hoped to post three chaps a week, and while I still have a bunch in reserve, RL has been a pain in the ass lately, and until I'm finished a chapter I won't post another. I'm hoping to have it all finished up before Christmas (famous last words), so never fear, we won't be here this time next year.

Thanks as usual to Tiff, Ink and Thimbles for sticking with me. And thank you to all you lovely readers and reviewers, I appreciate your words. xx