A/N: Here is my contribution to this year's FicAwesome Gift Exchange, aka FAGE 10: Reborn, written for TwiAddictAnne.

Rating: M

Prompt Used: Dialogue – "It's okay, you don't have to love me."

***WARNING***: This fic is based on a subject that came to my mind as soon as I began to think about the different spins I could put on my prompt. It contains imperfect human characters. They'll make mistakes, just like we all do. I'm twisting a very popular trope into something I think is likely to happen in the real world. There will be a fair bit of drama and some angst throughout this journey, hence I've labeled the genres as such. I humbly request you to keep that in mind if you choose to read further.

THIS STORY WILL BE POSTED IN ITS ENTIRETY TODAY. If you wish to hold off until I hit complete, you won't need to wait for long.

***DISCLAIMER***: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, and quotes are the property of their respective owners. Original creation, including but not limited to plot and characters, is copyright to the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

CHAPTER 1

Bella

"Rose?" I called, running my hands down my mint green blouse to smoothen any lingering wrinkles.

"Yeah?" Her voice echoed down the hallway seconds before she popped her head into my room.

I waved my arms around my attire, silently asking for her approval. She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. Leaning against the door frame, she took me in from head to toe.

"Skinny jeans?" she grumbled a moment later. "I'm really starting to wonder if you're allergic to skirts."

I frowned. "It's cold outside."

"Woolen skirt, then. You've got the legs to rock it."

"I'm just going to his place. I don't need to be dressy. Just tell me if I look okay."

She rolled her eyes and walked over to me. "You look great, sweetie. A little boring, but still great." Her lips pulled up into a mischievous smirk.

"I'm going to wear those boots you picked out for me," I offered to appease her.

Her eyes narrowed as she considered that. "I guess it would lift up the outfit. Good plan."

"Thanks." I blew out a breath, collapsing into my chair.

"Why are you so nervous, anyway? The guy can barely take his eyes off you when you're both here in your sweats. You're going to drive him crazy tonight."

"It's not really the clothes," I confessed quietly. "I'm anxious about how this evening is going to go. But there's nothing I can do to predict that, so I guess I'm choosing to focus my energy on something I can manage to change."

"Oh, Bella," she sighed and moved to stand behind me. She squeezed my shoulders before meeting my gaze in the mirror. "She's just a kid. She'll like you. She has no reason not to, but if you're still worried, let's go and buy her a gift. Kids love that, don't they? She'll be putty in your hands once you put a Barbie in hers."

I had to laugh. "You really think it's that easy to handle kids?"

Rose simply shrugged.

"Take it from me—it's not that simple. They have a mind of their own, and it works differently than ours. You can't really predict how they'll react. Nessie . . . I taught her class for almost six months. I can't claim to know her very well, but she seemed like a clever child at the time. And that was before her parents started living separately."

"But you told me they'd filed for divorce a long time ago."

"They did. The proceedings took a while, though, and Angela lived in their home until she could find an apartment for herself. She travelled a fair bit for her job, so it wasn't too awkward. But still, Nessie must not have given up hope of them getting back together until her mother moved out."

She nodded, humming thoughtfully. "So you think she still might be adjusting to the idea that it's never going to happen."

Now it was my turn to shrug. "Maybe? I really don't know. Edward is . . . excited about this. He thinks it's the right time, and he knows his daughter best."

Rose smiled. "There you go. You trust him, so just hold on to that. It'll work out, Bella. You're the kindest person I know, but you're also fiercely determined when you want something. Remember when those kids drove you to tears by the end of your first day of teaching?"

I almost shuddered at the memory of how overwhelmed I'd been after having dealt with insolent first-graders and their mood swings for an entire day. It'd been Nessie's class that'd nearly driven me to a breakdown on the first day of my temp job. Their class teacher, Mrs. Cope had been well-loved by the students, and her sudden disappearance—owing to her ill health—had put me in their path. Not everyone had been happy with the transition. I'd come to earn their trust and respect, but it'd been a slow process. The first day, hell, the first week had been hellish as I'd tried to connect with the kids while trying to do my job of actually educating them.

Six months later, most of them had been sad to bid me goodbye on their way to second grade. I called that a victory.

The school had offered me a permanent position by the end of the term which I'd gladly accepted. My second and current batch of first-graders had been mine from their very first day. I'd cherished the experience, handling the tougher aspects with more finesse now that I had more knowledge of how to deal with them.

Rosalie's voice pulled me out of my musings. "But you didn't let that stop you. We drowned your sorrows in ice-cream, and you were ready to go face them the next day. That was thirty kids. This is just one."

"The most important one," I sighed, but placed my hand on hers. A wry smile stretched over my face. "Thanks for trying to talk me down, Rose. I hear you. I really do."

"But you can't figure out how to stop worrying. That's okay. Just be yourself. That should be enough to earn her approval." She reached out to tug at a lock of my hair. "Oh, I do love your natural waves. What about make-up, though?"

I winced at her. "Do I really need it?" She cocked a well-sculpted eyebrow in response, and I didn't bother to fight. "Just keep it light, please?"

"You got it!"

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, letting Rose do her thing. Her fingers moved expertly over my skin while my thoughts wandered to the moment five months ago that'd led me to this evening.

I glanced at my watch and let out a frustrated sigh. It was already ten minutes past the time we'd agreed upon for this meeting. I was tired and cranky, itching to get home and spend the weekend in my pajamas. But standing in the way of my elaborate plans was a meeting with Vanessa Cullen's mother.

I gathered my papers into a stack and shuffled things around my desk as I waited. Five more minutes ticked by as I waited, each one adding to my mounting irritation. I was just about to stand and make my way out of the room when the door flew open.

A squeak left my throat as I whirled around, startled. The first thing I saw was a head full of unruly copper hair. A tall, lean man dashed into the room, jade eyes wide and frantic as they scanned their surroundings. They calmed somewhat when they landed on me. In fact, his entire body seemed to relax when he realized I was still here. His skin was pale, just his cheeks flushed with the exertion of rushing here.

"I'm so terribly sorry for making you wait," he started saying as he entered the room. His voice was deep, his long fingers twitching before he pushed them through his hair. My eyes followed their movement reflexively before I made a conscious effort to turn my attention to where it should be. He went on talking. "I am a surgical resident. I was stuck at the hospital. My wi—uh, Angela was going to come see you, but her grandmother's health took a sudden turn for the worse. They had to rush her to the ER, so she asked me to be here to meet with you about Ness—uh, Vanessa. I would've gotten here earlier, but I didn't really kno—"

I rose to my feet, halting his breathless diatribe. With a wave of my hand, I motioned for him to take a seat. "It's alright, Mr. Cullen. I can understand sometimes circumstances are beyond our control. I hope your wife's grandmother recovers soon."

"Thank you. I appreciate your waiting for me."

I sat in my own chair and pulled a stack of papers toward me, finding the one I needed right at the top. "I don't think we've met before. I've only spoken to Mrs. Cullen on several occasions."

He blew out a breath. The action pushed his lips into a pout, clouding my focus for a moment. "That's right. My schedule has been crazy for the past three years, so Angela has been on top of things here. Although, she—uh, we're in the process of getting a divorce. She has a new job that requires her to travel a lot, and I'm in my final year, so I've actually got a few subordinates who can cover for me sometimes. You might see me here again depending on how things work out."

I blinked at him, not quite sure of an appropriate response to that.

"Alright," I said eventually. "That's . . . yeah. There are just a couple of weeks to go in the school year, so I don't think there'll be any more such . . . meetings. Anyway, I called you in because of a matter with Vanessa's final assignment. I created this worksheet, and it included questions about everything the students learned in the past year, just to review their basics. I also wanted to give the parents an overview of where their children stood at the end of this year."

"Right. That makes sense. Is something wrong with Vanessa's work?"

I plucked it out of the pile and placed it between us on the desk. "She has done well in math. She could use a little more work in language, but it's nothing to worry about. The issue . . . well, like I said, I wanted the parents to see this assignment once I'd graded it. I'd asked the kids to make sure their parents signed the worksheets before they submitted it back to me."

I watched his brow furrow. "I don't think I've signed anything like that. Maybe Ang—"

"I know you didn't, and I know your wife, um, I'm sorry, I mean—" I stopped my ramblings and just pushed the paper toward him. "Why don't you just look at it yourself?"

My gaze remained glued on his face while he perused the sheet. His nose crinkled the tiniest bit, his lips pursing in concentration. I could pinpoint the exact moment he realized what the problem was by the way his mouth fell open. I had to suppress a giggle at the bewilderment that flashed across his face.

He reached out to touch it, his fingers ghosting over the bottom of the page where in place of a parent's signature, the word DAD was etched in Vanessa's scrawl.

Mr. Cullen's eyes were wide when they met mine. He opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut a second later. He sneaked another glance at his supposed signature before looking back up at me. He shifted in his chair, coughing once to disguise a noise that sounded way too much like a snort. The crinkles around his eyes gave him away.

"It's alright," I allowed. "It's a bit funny."

His lips quirked up in a smile he struggled and failed to hide. "I'm totally messing this up, aren't I? Showing up late, spouting my life story to you, and finding my daughter's fake signature as being funny. Three strikes."

I shook my head, chuckling at the rueful tone of his voice. "If it helps, I laughed for a whole minute when I first saw it."

"I'll speak to her about this," he sighed, threading a hand through his hair again in what I was now coming to recognize as a nervous tic. "She has always worked hard to do well in school. She enjoys it, too. I think the fact that she didn't do her best on this assignment made her nervous about showing it to us. I'm sorry about the signature. We'll be paying closer attention in the future, I can assure you."

"Kids do these things. Talking to her about it seems like a good plan. I would've done it myself, actually, but, uh—Vanessa's mother has always insisted she be kept in the loop," I explained, wording myself tactfully. "She once told me she would prefer that even the little things be brought to her attention, so I was just trying to do that."

"Oh, I understand what you're saying. She can be very insistent about the things she wants," he muttered knowingly. "Thank you for meeting with me, Miss Swan. I appreciate it. I'll speak to Nessie today. This won't happen again."

"It's no problem." I stood, and he followed suit. "You can take the assignment with you and have a look at it. Vanessa can bring it back to me—with your actual signature—next week."

"Of course." He picked it up and folded it carefully before tucking it into the pocket of his jacket. He held out his hand. I took it without a second thought, only to find myself startled when his fingers closed around mine. The soft warmth of his skin against my own sent an inexplicable thrill travelling along my arm. My eyes snapped up to his, only to find them already intent on my face. I could feel the heat of my blush spread through my cheeks when he squeezed my hand.

We stayed like that for a moment before I was able to regain my senses. I cleared my throat, and he dropped his hold on my hand like he'd been burned. We said rushed, almost awkward goodbyes, afraid and unprepared to acknowledge whatever it was that'd passed between us.

He turned around to give me one last nod before he walked out of the door. It was only when his footsteps had stopped echoing down the hallway that I sagged back into my chair.

He'd called me the day after his daughter's last day in my class. I'd answered the phone cautiously, frowning at the unknown number, but the first time I'd heard him say my name, my heart had nearly jumped out my chest. A request to meet him for coffee had soon led to dinner and a movie. Getting to know him better had only left me craving for more. Text messages and calls had inundated my summer, and each moment spent with him had left me smiling and excited for the next time.

We'd been together for almost four months now—and they'd been the best four months of my entire life. His divorce had been finalized the day before he'd asked me out, but we'd kept our relationship on the downlow. I hadn't minded though I knew it'd eaten away at him to treat me like a secret.

We weren't though—not really.

I knew he'd told Angela about us last month, and she'd accepted it well enough. Their divorce had been amicable with no lingering bitterness, and they shared custody of their daughter. I was grateful for the situation, knowing very well it could've been a lot worse. We'd been out and about in public—eating out, walking in parks, meeting up with friends.

Basically, there was only one person in the world who mattered to us, and from whom we'd gone to great lengths to keep our relationship a secret.

Vanessa

And that was about to change tonight . . . whether for the better or for the worse, remained to be seen.

A/N: Any guesses about the trope I'm trying to flip?

I'd like to thank my pre-readers, SassYNoleS and Pamela, and my beta, EdwardsFirstKiss for their help in making this happen. Any mistakes that remain are mine—especially the deliberate ones in certain dialogues.

Big thanks to Diane (obsessedtwibrarian) for creating my lovely banner and to Thats-So-Alex for always being there for me.

See you soon!

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