AN: New story. Something different from me. It's going to be sweet, pure fluff, and no angst, some drama.

Thanks to my pre-reader Brina. She's in California, bracing for Hurricane Hilary, but was lovely and read for me tonight. You're in my thoughts, bb! Stay safe!

Chapter One

-The Box Seat Connection-

Emmett told me he didn't want to waste the ticket. It looked like it was going to be a decent game, he said, and if he couldn't go due to some kitchen emergency, at least his favorite sister would have a good time. Okay, that last part I added, but since I was his only sister, by default, I had to be his favorite. Anyway, when he offered them to me, I said sure. I wasn't a big fan of football, but I had wrapped up my classes earlier in the day, and the chance to watch the Seattle Seahawk's quarterback on the field was all the convincing I needed.

You see, Edward Cullen was their best player – and the hottest. He was the passing yard leader with 99,314 and the all-time playoff passing yards leader with 15,400. It was stalker behavior for me to know that much about EC, but I knew him way before the muscles and the money. He was, and still is, my brother's best friend. Emmett and I lived with Edward in a small town called Forks, Washington. They were four years older than me, so mostly I grew up with them; I was the bratty little sister that tagged along. I couldn't help that they did all the cool things, and I just wanted to be a part of it, but they would tease and torture me relentlessly, and more often than not, Em and EC would send me home crying.

My crush on EC didn't begin until his freshman year. Over the summer, he had shot up like a tree and gotten even cuter. I was a hopeless preteen and couldn't help falling madly in love with him—but so did all the girls in our town. Oh, boy, did he take advantage of his popularity. In Forks, football was everything, and Edward and Emmett dominated that field like gods. My brother was the wide receiver, and Edward was the quarterback; they scored fifty points in a game. The whole school revered them as the Double-E Threat. Both of them got scouted senior year and offered a full ride, but Edward could accept it while Emmett had to decline. He knocked up his girlfriend, Rose, and our families forced them to get married. He's got two kids now and works with Dad as a Forks deputy.

I hadn't seen Edward much since his graduation. Once he left Forks, he never looked back. I didn't blame him; Seattle was my home now. The only times I went back to Forks were when my parents guilt-tripped me into it. That place had too many good and bad memories, making it difficult to move forward. I had school, a job, and an okay social life, but not much time for the past.

Speaking of staying in the present, I think I'm lost. I'm in a crowd of people, and everyone seems to know where they're going while I stare at my ticket as if it's written in Chinese. I try to flag someone down for help, but no one can hear my soft, timid voice amidst the loud, chattering, and excited voices. It takes me ten minutes to walk the entire stadium before I spot a sign corresponding to my seat number.

However, when I find it, I'm met with a locked door. So, I recheck my ticket to make sure it's correct. It's the right one, all right, but how the heck am I supposed to get inside? Spinning around, I rise to my tiptoes to see over the crowd. At the far end of the hallway, I spot someone who might work here. It takes me a minute to weave in and out between the mass of bodies, but once I approach him, the guy looks annoyed.

"Hi," I chirp, but he just stares at me without saying a word. "Um, so, yeah. You see, I have this ticket, but I can't seem to get into the room."

The guy takes the stub from my hand and studies it. He nods and says, "The keypad number is 226." My face must show my apparent confusion because he sighs and points. "You see where it says, 'keypad digit 226'?"

I see where it says that in the lower-left corner of the ticket, but it wasn't as clear without context or knowledge.

He hands it back to me roughly. "All the executive suites have those."

"Executive suites?" I ask, but the man is already walking away from me without responding. "Thanks," I mutter and walk back to the door. As I get closer, I feel stupid because now I can see the sign that reads: Enter the three-digit number located at the bottom right corner of your ticket stub.

"Great start, Bella." I press in the code and step inside. However, my shame vanishes, and the setup blows me away. "Wow."

Okay, so the executive suite was a fancy-schmancy word for box seats—that I was familiar with, but this setup in front of me was beyond anything I had seen. It reminded me of the movie with Will Smith and Margot Robbie, where they're betting with the guy at the football game. Yeah, it was like that, but in real life, this suite is larger than my apartment. It has a wet bar with a refrigerator, a buffet setup, a private bathroom, multiple flat-panel HD televisions, and tons and tons of leather couches. The back of the room is a balcony in the middle of the field.

It's incredible.

"No, this can't be right." I pull out my phone and dial Emmett's number. He picks up on the third ring. "Bro! Where did you get this ticket?"

"Edward got it for me - why? Is the seat comfortable?"

"Suitable, indeed. S-U-I-T-A-B-L-E."

There's silence for about ten seconds before he finally asks, "What does that mean?"

I roll my eyes. "Butthead, learn to spell, please."

"Excuse me, could you please refrain from using such profanity?"

"You're such a square," I tease, but in reality, I am the square; "butt" and "darn" were the biggest swear words I used.

"Suite," he says, slowly putting it together. "Are you saying this ticket is for a box seat?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," I say, my hands running over the marble countertops as I pass.

"Is there anyone else there with you?"

Suddenly, it occurs to me. Box seats like these can hold up to twenty-five people. The possibility of strangers surrounding me isn't all that appealing.

"No, not yet," I say, gulping down my anxiety. "Do you think he gave someone else these tickets?"

"Maybe. When he invited me to come, he asked me how many tickets I needed. I said two, because of Rose, but she didn't want to go, so I was going to take you with me, but then, you know," Emmett says.

One of his kid's decided to bake cookies, and it all went downhill from there.

Emmett gave me two tickets and told me I could bring anyone I wanted; however, Alice was busy, and Mike was a cheater, so it was just me.

Which is fine, and I didn't mind doing things on my own. Especially when I did something stupid, no one was there to bear witness.

"So, it's really nice," Emmett says, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"Oh, man! Oh, man! Did you make a huge mistake by passing up on this ticket?"

He pouts. "Don't tell me that."

"Imagine it, a buffet of..." I slowly walk down the line and list off the foods. "Meatballs, mini burgers, nachos and cheese, corn dogs, and hot dogs."

"You know what, Bella? You're a butthead." Emmett joke. "Have fun, okay? Consider this an early birthday present."

"I will tell Edward thank you, you lousy re-gifter."

He laughs.

I walk toward the balcony overlooking the field. "Does he know you gave me these tickets? He's not expecting you, is he?"

Emmett scoffs. "He's a professional athlete, Bells. Do you know what that means?"

Oh, patronizing Big Brother is back and acting like a jerk. "Yes," I say slowly.

"Edward gave me those tickets as a gift. He doesn't know that I didn't use them or that you did."

"Are you sure?" I ask, nervously chewing on my thumb's cuticle.

"Yes, I'm sure," he says. "What are you so worried about? You think he's going to show up and give you shit about coming in my place?"

I knew that thought was silly, but it had crossed my mind.

"No."

"You're fine. Enjoy the buffet, brat ."

"Okay, I will. Thank you, Em."

"No problem," he says and hangs up without saying anything else.

Kick-off isn't for another hour, but I don't mind hanging out. There's an open bar, and I intend to take full advantage of it. I grab a glass of white wine and sit on a sofa near the balcony. It's fascinating watching the stadium fill up with people. My mind wanders, wondering about their lives. What do they do for a living? Do they have kids? Are they happy? It's easy to imagine their stories, and as I'm sitting here thinking about this room and the ticket Edward gave to Emmett, I decide to Google the price. It takes me two seconds, but this executive suite, which is the third level and center field, and includes twenty tickets, sells for about 60,000. That's roughly 3,000 per ticket.

I stare at my phone in utter shock, trying to make sense of that much money, and don't hear the soft knocking.

It's not until the door opens that I look up. What my eyes expected to see were some people who had also received tickets; I mean, it seated twenty, and it was a packaged deal kind of thing. Why wouldn't Edward invite more of his friends? But that's not what happens. It takes me a moment to understand, but bam! It hit me, and all the air got sucked right out of my lungs. It's been years since I've seen him in person. The boy he once was isn't the man who just walked into my suite. He's so much more, and yet the same. His head of messy bronze hair, perfect eyebrows, and intense green eyes were all I could focus on.

As he approaches, his gaze falls upon me, and he stares for a long time. There's a mixture of confusion and surprise in his eyes, but his face eventually softens into a smile.

"Bella, is that you?"

His 6'4" frame casts a shadow over me, and my heart stops. "Hey, Edward."

"I didn't know you would be here. Emmett said he was bringing Rose."

"Oh!" I exclaim, my eyes fluttering down to my hands, clutching desperately to my phone. "Yeah, um. There was some kind of kitchen emergency and... "

"Did you come instead?"

I can't look up at him. Emmett acted like I was being paranoid, thinking Edward wouldn't be upset that I came instead of him, but look at us now. In this awkward situation, how the heck am I supposed to escape it?

"Yeah, um, my finals were over and...," I am stammering through my excuse, mid-sentence, when Edward pulls me up by my arms and into a tight embrace.

My eyes flutter closed as he overwhelms with his scent, which smells so amazing - and I am transported through time. When I was in seventh grade, Edward left his sweater in Emmett's room, and I snuck in and stole it. That scent made me fall asleep with delightful dreams every night for three months. Then my mom washed it and gave it back to him.

I still can't forget about that.

Edward releases me and leans back. That smile of his is so darn infectious; I can't help but smile, too.

"It's good to see you," I say, trying my best to sound nonchalant. "God, what has it been? Four, maybe five years?"

The reality was that it had been close to ten years, but I didn't want Edward to think I'd been pining for him all that time.

"Eight years and four months," he says.

The accuracy leaves me speechless, and I stutter. "Um, yeah. Give or take."

Edward keeps his gaze on me, and there's this look in his eyes. The blush creeps from my chest to my face, making me sweat. Seeing him this close, I'm reminded of how deeply my crush on him had run. The boy in high school was beautiful, but now, the gorgeousness is beyond what's possible. It isn't easy to look away, but I barely manage.

"I'm just tripping out over here," Edward says with a chuckle. "The last time I saw you, you were just…" He gestures with his hands, trying to express how short I was, and it's cute seeing how he can't articulate. "How old are you now?"

I say, "Twenty-two."

He smirks. "Is that right?"

I blush again and ramble on. "Yes, and I am currently attending college, working towards a business degree, and sometimes work at a bookstore."

"Sometimes."

"You're teasing me, aren't you?"

He held up his forefinger and thumb. "Just a smidge."

"Well," I say, standing up straighter and pushing the hair away from my face, "I'm not Emmett's bratty little sister anymore. If you haven't noticed, I'm a grown woman now."

He says, "No, I've noticed."

The air grows thick, uncomfortably so, and the only reprieve comes when his phone rings. It puts a kibosh on the awkward but flirtatious moment between us.

Edward groans. "I gotta go get dressed now, but there's this thing after the game. You and Emmett should come."

I didn't want to tell him that I was there alone; what if the only reason he had invited me was because of Emmett? The last thing I wanted to be was someone's little sister tag-along.

I could never lie to EC, not even when we were young. His eyes always had a way of disarming me.

I sigh. "Actually, Emmett isn't here. His son nearly burned down their kitchen, so he gave me his ticket. But I'll tell him to text you."

"No, don't bother him. It's fine." Edward's phone goes off again, and he quickly silenced it. When he looks back at me, his eyebrows are drawn together in confusion. "But you're coming, right?"

"I don't know. You're Emmet's friend and …." His disappointment stuns me, and for a brief second, I'm unsure how to respond, but I have to fix it. "Yeah, of course, I'll come. Don't be silly. Just name the place, and I'll be there."

Edward smiles, then chuckles in relief. "Let me see your phone," he says, his eyes narrowing in on me. "You scared me there for a minute, Swan."

I unlock the screen and hand my phone over to Edward. After putting his information into my contacts, he sends a text to himself. Our fingers touch, only for a second, as he gave it back to me. Outwardly, I play it cool, and you couldn't tell by looking at me that on the inside, I was screaming: EC just gave me his phone number!

It's surreal.

"Cool, so I'll text you after the game. Do you have a car? Or do you need me to send you a driver?"

"I have a car."

"All right then. It was nice seeing you again, Bella." Edward takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. "See you later?"

"I'll see you later."

His warm grip on me is gone, and I watch him as he turns to leave. But something inside of me panics. I'm not sure why. It feels as if I will never see him again, and before I can stop myself, I call out.

"Edward!"

I'm not expecting much from him; maybe a smile or a head nod, but he does a complete one-eighty and walks back over to me.

"What's up? Did you forget something?"

But I couldn't speak. I dragged this man back, and all I could do was fidget.

My face flushes.

Edward smiles. "You know what? You don't have to say anything. That blush of yours was all the reason I needed."

Of course, I blushed even more.

"I'll see you, Bella."

"Edward, I just ... " A thousand things come to my mind, one of them being on how much I love him, but decide not to be a complete psycho. So, I just smile and say, "I wanted to wish you good luck out there."

"I don't need luck. All I need is for you to come out with me tonight. That's it."

"You've twisted my arm."

"I bet."

His phone rings again and he sighs. "Sorry."

I push on his chest and urge him towards the door. "Get out of here. I'll see you tonight."

"All right. Keep your phone on you. I'll add you to the list."

I hold up my phone and smile. Edward smiles back. For a brief moment, I think he wants to say something but decides against it.

And just as quickly as he entered the room, he breezed right back out. Standing in the same spot, I am left in complete awe.

How is this my life?

Edward was an old family friend, but the man in my suite was larger than life. I didn't recognize him. He had matured, much thicker and stouter, and that slight facial hair made me feel like an oozing, wanton puddle of a woman. It was strange. He changed so much, yet I felt like I knew him better than anyone else, inside and out.

I collapse back onto the sofa, thinking about those green eyes, his smile, and how he made me feel like I was the only person in this world that mattered. That's when the reality of what had just happened hit me in full force.

"Oh, crap."