A/N: I do not own Twilight. So, anyway, this chapter is a bit different. It's a little bit surprising and a little scandalous, but the next chapter will make more sense. Enjoy.

LI.

man, fuck a title

Leah twirled her finger around the old telephone cable in her kitchen as she rolled about on her heels. She didn't like high heels that much, but they could be fun, she admitted. Blazers, on the other hand, were not fun at all, especially over a dress and tights. She felt confined.

"Sorry, Ma," she said into the phone. "I think Charlie's gonna have to take you back home—oh, you guys are having dinner tonight? Okay."

She began to play with her hair, since it was longer and therefore more fun, especially since she decided to curl it today, but then she stopped herself. She didn't need to roll into her first day of her internship looking like a hot mess.

"Yeah, yeah," Leah said. "Thanks for being so proud of me. I never thought I'd actually land the internship. I'm surprised." Her eyes flashed over to the clock. She'd have to leave in the next two minutes if she wanted to make it to Port Angeles in time.

"Okay, Ma, sorry. I'll do my best. I really gotta—okay. Okay. I love you, too. Tell Charlie I said hi. By—Bella? I don't care. No, I—sorry. Ma, I really gotta go. Bye."

She finally hung up. Jesus, she thought. She's really starting to feel like herself again.

Leah made her way to the front door of her house that Monday morning, but not before checking herself out in the mirror. She looked like a brand-new person. She looked like a law intern.

Hot damn.

She'd had an interview prior to winter break, but she'd thought that she'd blown it. She hadn't been in the right mindset (and right now, she still didn't think she was), but the interviewer had liked her or her dazzling charm or whatever. That put her in a better mood until she realized that the interviewer wasn't even going to be the person she'd be following around day in and day out. Leah's guy was named Emmett Cullen and she didn't even know what he looked like. All she knew besides his name was that he was the best attorney at the firm in Port Angeles. And that was fucking daunting.

It was too late to back out now, though, so she got her stuff together and drove out. She was used to driving to Port Angeles these days, even without her official license (it was coming in the mail, though, very soon). It was long, but it was easy.

Leah arrived at Howard Plath Law Firm with four seconds to spare, but she played it off cool, as if she had been early the entire time. Nobody there even noticed her, despite being clearly out of place. The place was full of older white people, and while she was dressed mostly professionally, perhaps she should have gone for a longer dress. She suddenly felt very brown and very naked.

She was directed to an office by an older white lady whose smiling muscles didn't seem to work. She led Leah to a door with a silver plate in it that had the name Emmett Cullen engraved in it.

How fucking pretentious, Leah thought.

The lady knocked on the door and was let in by a voice Leah couldn't hear. Then they entered the office. Emmett Cullen sat behind a large mahogany desk.

The first thing Leah noticed was his hair. It was curly, dark brown, and it contrasted his pale skin as it framed it. He had chocolate brown eyes, and she could tell he was actually smiling because they crinkled a bit at the corners. His lips were full—a little too full for a white guy—and his smile was friendly but a little mischievous. Everything about his stature was serious and mature, but it was the smile, adorned with dimples that made her trust him, that really got her.

She knew where she had seen that before.

He rose from his chair and made his way over to Leah and the lady, whose name she had missed. Emmett was tall—around six foot six—and it made Leah feel small, but not afraid. He was big, too, with broad shoulders and clear muscle definition, even through his well-tailored suit.

He looked to the lady behind Leah. "Thank you, Sylvia," she said.

Sylvia just smiled and exited the room. She did have the muscles for smiling, it turned out.

Emmett firmly shook Leah's hand. "I'm Emmett Cullen," he said. "I take it that you're Leah…?"

She smiled confidently. "Clearwater. Yes. Leah Clearwater."

"The intern," he said, putting his hands in the pockets of his dress pants. "So let's get started?"

"Um, yeah," she replied, a little too excited. "What's the plan?"

"Well, since you're nothing but a measly intern," he said teasingly, "how about we start with some organizing? I mean, if you can handle all that work on the first day."

She pursed her lips. "Oh, I believe I can handle it."

He raised an eyebrow. "Good."

She licked her lips without meaning to. "Great."

Lunch time came around, and Leah decided that she liked Emmett Cullen. She liked his weight on top of hers even more than she liked him. His personality was familiar and nice and a little comedic, so she liked that, too. She really did. But when she really thought about it, as he was moving deep inside her and breathing heavy over her, the little remembrances of someone she used to know didn't mean that much.

She couldn't keep her hands to herself, no matter how careful they had to be. Emmett's curls were irresistible to her eager hands. Why would she even want to abstain from touching him when he was just so much?

That was what Emmett Cullen was: a lot. So much. Too much? Enough.

Leah had almost forgotten that they were in the backseat of his car, a roomy Charger, until she felt a vibration against her hip.

Emmett quickly pulled away, out of breath. He brought his left index finger up to his lips and shushed her as he got his cell phone out of his pocket. She noticed he wasn't wearing a wedding ring. She began to sit up, and she moved back to make more space.

"This is Emmett Cullen," he said, answering the phone. "Hello, yes, I am aware of the meeting."

He looked to Leah, whose tights were halfway down. He pointed his thumb and index finger and spun them as if to say, Can we wrap this up?

She complied, bringing her tights up and smoothing her dress out the best that she could.

Emmett continued his conversation as he put his jacket back on, and Leah went into a frantic search for her right heel, which had managed to misplace itself somewhere between Emmett tugging her panties down and now. She ran her hands along the floor and under the seat until she finally found it.

Emmett was just finishing his phone call. "Yes, of course," he said. "I'll see you then. Thank you." He hung up and scoffed, pulling his pants up.

"Are you in trouble?" Leah asked. "And I don't mean for what just happened."

He cupped her chin in her hand and gave her a mischievous grin. "We're only in trouble if you want to be."

She giggled and shrugged away. "Then what's next?" she asked.

His words flowed like water. "We go back to work," he began, "you learn how to keep your hands to yourself, I go through an excruciatingly long meeting, all that good stuff." He tucked in his shirt and smoothed it out.

"Do I get to come to this excruciatingly long meeting?"

"You're my intern, right?"

"I thought I was only good for organizing papers, Mr. Cullen." She suddenly felt amazingly dirty.

"You're good for a lot of things, Miss Clearwater," he replied. Then he kissed her hard on the lips. He tasted like expensive cologne and crisp hundred dollar bills.

"Let's get back to work," he murmured.

And somehow, she really thought this would work out.

It worked out for the rest of the day, as well as the rest of the week. Emmett was about his business and Leah was about not getting fired from a paid internship. It only made sense.

Friday evening, Emmett walked Leah out to her car.

"Do I get a review?" Leah asked jokingly.

"You've done more assistant work than actual intern work," he said reflectively, "so that's a poor job on my part. You'll get in on the action sometime soon, more than likely within the next two weeks."

"I'm surprised you don't already have an assistant."

He shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pocket. "I was looking for one, actually, but didn't have the time. Then I figured I'd rather help an intern get into the law atmosphere. I heard your interview went really well, by the way. Garrett was practically begging me to hire you."

Leah raised her eyebrows. "I mean, to each his own..."

"Leah, for some reason I feel like you have some confidence issues. If I had known then, I might have not taken you out on that lunch date Monday."

"Oh, please," she said. "My thighs did all the talking."

"I was wondering if I could continue to converse with them," he offered. "Do you have any plans for dinner tonight, Miss Clearwater?"

She smiled up at him. "I was hoping you'd ask that."

Emmett had a huge waterfront home in Silverdale, which was about an hour away from Port Angeles when he drove. The first thing Leah noticed about the house was that it was secluded in regards to the rest of the area, and very empty on the inside.

She commented on the latter fact once she slipped her heels off, noticing that they were the only shoes in the foyer. "Emmett?" she asked.

He was helping her out of her coat, and he hung it and his own coat in the closet. "Yes?"

"If you were planning on murdering your lovely intern-slash-assistant, would you let me know?"

"Sure," he said plainly. "Why do you ask?"

"It doesn't look like anyone's spent a day in this house."

Her eyes traced the foyer. Everything was white, absolutely pristine. It was like something out of a movie. She still felt out of place, like a mistake that was yet to be erased.

"I keep my place clean," he said, kissing the skin exposed near her neck.

"So what's for dinner again?" she asked.

"I was thinking we could order in," he said. "What are you in the mood for?"

"Chinese?" she suggested.

"Perfect." He traced his hands down to her hips, his fingers tracing the soft curves. "Now, just down the hall, there's the TV room. You can go ahead and make yourself at home while I go pick up dinner. Is that alright?"

"Yes, but I have one request," she said, turning to face him.

"Anything you want."

"Don't have me waiting too long."

Over kung pao chicken and Scotch, as well as Pulp Fiction playing idly as background noise, Emmett and Leah discussed their lives. Or more specifically, his.

"Are you married?" she asked him straightforwardly.

He didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. "Technically," he replied smoothly, "but I'm in the middle of a divorce. Rose and I… we don't work out."

"Rose? She must be real pretty."

He just shook his head. "She's a real bitch."

The kung pao chicken went sour in Leah's mouth. And she knew, in that instant, that she couldn't trust Emmett. No matter how secure he made his home seem, no matter how relaxed he was, and no matter how calming his dimples were, she could not trust a man who referred to his wife or girlfriend or any woman as a bitch.

She didn't feel like the other woman, though—Emmett was going through a divorce. He wasn't cheating on his wife. He couldn't be, because to Leah, they weren't really married. Except they weren't over, either. But something still irked Leah, way down deep.

"Why are you divorcing her?"

"C'mon, you really care about that?" he asked, his voice suddenly defensive. "Why does it matter? I've got you right here, right now, and you're asking about my ex-wife."

"Except you're not exes yet!" Leah replied. "Why are you divorcing her? If it doesn't matter, then just tell me so I don't feel like such a slut."

He narrowed his eyes and downed his glass of Scotch. "Don't complain to me about feeling like a slut. You slept with your boss on your first day, remember?"

She threw down her carton of chicken on the glass table in front of them. She pointed a finger at him. "You came on to me!" she yelled. "Don't fucking try it when you were flirting with me that entire day before lunch, and the next three days after, and even today. You always walked me back to my car, you offered to get dinner, and we're at your place. Don't try me, Emmett, because I can be a huge fucking problem if you ask for it."

"You sound just like her," he said spitefully. Before it could sting too much, he continued. "And I didn't mean to say any of that."

"It's not like you didn't say it, though."

"I know. I know. Do you want to know why Rose and I fell out?"

"That is literally all I've wanted to know this entire time."

"She cheated on me," he admitted. "She fucking cheated on me."

She wished she could take back everything she'd said.

Tears started to fill her eyes. "I'm sorry," she told him. "That's the worst. I mean, if she didn't want to be with you, then she shouldn't have kept it up."

"I know," he replied, his voice low.

Be easy, she told herself. He's obviously hurt. Be easy.

And she became easier for the time being. She became softer, and she ended up with her hands and knees firmly grounded in the couch. Emmett was gentle and rough at the same time, and he knew how to go for a while. Leah had seen Pulp Fiction a dozen times (via Embry), and by the time she was too tired to go on any longer, the movie had been over.

Emmett and Leah collapsed on the couch, and she laid in silence for a few moments, trying to catch her breath.

"How old are you?" she asked.

"Thirty-three."

She tried to convince herself that it wasn't that bad.

"Okay," she said.

"And you're twenty?"

"Yes, I am."

"Hmm."

Completely spent, she fell asleep in his arms, and she finally forgot who they were.

A/N: Tell me how you feel. I'll try to update soon.

Thanks as always,

HS