FF BROKE. WHAT WHAT. so, i'm reuploading this chapter, because i know that it didn't show up for some of you, and the reviewing option was disabled and just yeah. reuploading. enjoy!

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guys! 100+ reviews for the last chapter alone? just kill me now with your amazingness. good golly miss molly!

MY LOVES. i apologize. new semester (i'm in 10th grade—let's just get that little detail out of the way) calls for desperate measures, which is why this chapter has been so long in the making. school is a beast, and when it comes down to it, passing a class and taking a break from writing ~insert the is greater than sign~ failing a class and finishing the story. (lookie there, i know my math signs! hooray!)

i'm right in my high school career where looking into college is becoming VERY important, and preparing for the sats is BOSS over everything else, and doing well with grades is pretty much the only thing important in life, so that's taking up quite a bit of my time. i do apologize for the delay, but my updates will become fewer until summer comes along—then i should have plenty of free time.

aside from that, though: i dig hearing what you guys think of this story so. freaking. much. keep it up—i love you guys!

disclaimer: stephenie meyer owns twilight and all recognizable characters. the things i own consist of: ian and books and nooks. that's about it. (but i really really love ian, SO THAT'S OKAY.)

as a last tidbit: there are two different dates in this chapter; this chapter spans across the day after last chapter (sunday), and then bella's first day on the job (tuesday). still all from bella's point of view, of course!

(okay, i lied: one more tidbit. i haven't really read over this to check for spelling and grammar errors, so if you guys find any, i'd supremely appreciate it if you let me know where they are! okay, that's it! thanks!)

*

sunday, november 2nd.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Alice . . ."

"Bella, yes. You will be going on this blind date, and you will like it!"

I squinted my eyes at Alice, who was looming menacingly over my bed. With her arms crossed and her nostrils flared, I feared slightly for my life.

"Alice," I sighed, rubbing my eyes tiredly. "Why are you pushing this when you know that I obviously don't want to do this?"

"Babe." She plopped onto my bed and laid a palm onto my knee. "This is for your own good." I opened my mouth to speak, and she quickly continued, eyeing me with authority. "It's healthy to get out of your comfort zone every once in a while. Do something fun; take some risks! Bella, you're not going to die because of one little blind date."

"I might."

She rolled her eyes, smiling. "You won't. And if you do, just know that you'll do so in the pursuit of satisfying me."

"So my gravestone will be: 'Bella Swan. September 13th, 1986—November 7th, 2008. Died in pursuit of a man she never knew . . . and never wanted to know.' Yeah, that sounds really glorious."

She smacked my knee. "This is the kind of attitude that's killing your chances for love, sweetheart!" Although she was smiling, I caught the glint in her eye—the maternal glint, the glint that said What I'm saying, I mean for real. So listen close. I sighed. Was I really such a brick wall?

"I don't want to do this. At all," I said stubbornly. Stubbornly. Huh, maybe Emmett was right about me being so stubborn.

"I know," she said, softly patting my knee. "That's why you should. It'll be a good, new, risky experience for you. You've always been left-brained: anal retentive about nearly everything, never willing to take chances." She grinned at me as she flicked my right temple with her finger. "How about tapping into that right-brain reservoir for a change?"

"This is reckless."

She raised her eyebrows. "This is a good experience."

"The guy could be annoying," I said with a shrug. "He could ask too many questions. He could not care one bit about me. He could text on his cell phone all night. He could drool. He could drug my drink. He could make me pay. He could try to slide past second base on the first date. He could be a pedophile." Who knows what kind of people Emmett hangs out with? Other than the lovely us, of course. I had to be prepared for anything.

"Or . . . he could be the guy of your dreams."

I sighed. "If only."

"It's possible." She smiled at me. "That's what I'm saying—give it a chance. You never know what you might get out of it."

Did I really want to do this? I'd absolutely have my cell phone, in case anything that I felt uncomfortable with was to happen. I knew how to locate each of my friends' houses. Plenty of people went on blind dates every day, I supposed, and nothing too terrible happened to them. And what was the worst that could truly happen? As long as I kept my head on straight and my morals intact, I shouldn't be affected emotionally too harshly.

I nodded. "Okay. Okay."

Alice did her best to bounce on the bed while she was sitting. "Great!" she cheered, throwing her arms around me and squeezing with all her might. She pulled back and added, "See? Emmett was right: you really are too kind to stand someone up."

Narrowing my eyes at her, I smiled. "You know he only used that reason as blackmail to make me do this in the first place, right?"

"Yeah." She shrugged. "And it worked. Smart guy, eh?"

"Let's see who the date is first," I suggested, laughing and nudging Alice's side. "Then let's see just how smart of a guy he really is."

*

tuesday, november 4th.

When I woke up on Tuesday, the first day of my new job, I felt like a ninth grader on their first day in high school. The furious butterflies surged in the pit of my stomach while I was brushing my teeth, while I was eating my brunch—while Alice was helping me choose the perfect outfit. My nerves were so high, I didn't even groan when Alice insisted on styling my hair.

"Bella, you need to calm down," she said as she ran a straightening iron through my hair. She glanced at me in the mirror and smiled sympathetically. "You're going to be fine."

Her soothing words did nothing to help me—though, bless her soul, she did try.

Unable to take any time from her hectic schedule, Alice had to wish me her Good Lucks at the door, and she and Jasper hugged me and wished me the best from the doorway. I smiled at them, my stomach churning, knowing that their words of well-wishing would be lost if my imbalance wanted to make itself known. I held my inept coat together with both hands as the wind bustled and blew against me. I cursed the weather for deciding to be particularly horrid today, of all days. Plus, I really needed a new winter coat.

I felt a buzz from my jeans pocket, and pulled out my cell phone to discover that I had a new text message. From Mystery Man. My heart thudded to a halt, and my stomach flipped even more than it had been. I clicked "OK" to view it.

How did your job interview go? Was it as successful as I knew it would be?

I grinned and paused walking on the sidewalk as I began typing back my response. I wasn't sure why he'd texted me when he could just call me, but perhaps he was at a place that he couldn't speak vocally. And, truth be told, I wasn't exactly distraught about his choice of contact—after our last conversation, I couldn't say that I was looking forward to speaking with him again.

Fantastic! Thanks for asking. I got the job.

His response came less than a minute later.

I knew it! I had faith in you. You seem like too kind of a person to be turned down. For anything.

I blushed and glanced at the time on my cell phone. 11:51am.

Actually, I have to go and begin my new job right now. I'll get in touch with you later?

Less than thirty seconds later:

Sounds magnificent. Good luck! I wish I could be there with you now, to wish you the best in person.

Biting my lip, I mulled over what to say. I wish I could see you now, too? Stop trying to break out rules, you pesky rebel? There was no right way to respond to his text message, so I did the best I could to satisfy his need for a response, without piquing his curiosity too much. I did, after all, have to get to Books and Nooks in a few minutes, and a long and tedious response wouldn't exactly work well in this situation. I chose the best, quickest response I could think of.

Someday.

I turned my phone off, slipped it back into my pocket, and made my way to Books and Nooks.

*

"Welcome to hell," Ian growled at me. And then he grinned. "Just kidding!"

I laughed. "Thank goodness you were just joking with me," I teased him. "I was about to renege on the whole 'working at Books and Nooks' thing . . ."

"Phew!" He wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead with a flourishing hand. "That would've been very, very terrible. I'm glad I was joking, too!" He winked at me; I chuckled behind my hand. "So, my umbre-Bella, let's get cracking—I'll show you the ropes."

He grabbed my hand and tugged me to behind the counter.

"First, I'll introduce you to everyone."

I nodded.

He pointed at himself. "I'm Ian."

"Really?" I gasped jokingly. "I never would've guessed. It's a pleasure to meet you for the first time, Ian."

He giggled. "Oh, how you delight me so. That"—he thrust a finger toward the café—"is Matt. I believe you've seen him before."

I looked to the tables and immediately found Matt—he was insanely difficult to miss. A big hulking mass sitting in a chair that looked as though it might break under his weight, Matt was seated at a table nearest the front counter. A mug of black coffee was on the table, and he had a newspaper lying open.

"Bella," Matt said in an outrageously deep voice. He smiled at me. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You too, Matt," I said, blushing brilliantly. I touched my hip to Ian's. "This is a really great guy you've got here," I added.

Matt nodded, his eyes moving from mine and landing on Ian. He grinned softly. "Yes, he is."

"Okay," Ian interjected excitedly, "enough with talking to Matt and conversing about his obvious love and desire and lust for me or else I'll want to jump his bones in like five seconds flat." He pointed to the other workers—my new coworkers—that were spread throughout the shop.

"That's Sam, Jensen, Veronica, Leilani, and AJ. Say hello, guys."

"Hey!" they all called from their various spots around the store. I'd been following Ian's finger as it pointed to each other person, and tried to commit their names and images to memory. Sam was a lanky boy with black-framed glasses who must've been in high school. Jensen was a beefy, stout man, with a buzz cut and a shirt proudly proclaiming "I HEART NEW YORK." Veronica had wavy black hair and her jean shorts showed off her long, tan legs: she was so exotic. Leilani was a petite woman who looked like she was twenty, wearing Birkenstocks and had her hair thrown up in a ponytail. And AJ was, to put in quite childish—but literal—terms, a babe. With cropped blond hair, a snug-fitting lime green shirt, and a smile that made his whole face light up, he was nothing short of hunky.

Then again, he wasn't a very handsome man. (Purely because he didn't have copper hair or emerald eyes.)

"Quit checking out the coworkers, babe," Ian teased me, and my eyes found his again. "If my mind recalls correctly, you've already got a super gorgeous beast, hot on your heels and crazy for you."

"Hey," Matt called, and we both looked at him. He grinned lopsidedly at Ian. "You can only call me the super gorgeous beast, remember?"

I laughed as Ian blew him a kiss and struck him a pose. "Of course, my darling," Ian drawled, and he turned back to me. "From now until three o'clock, you'll be manning the front counter," Ian explained, his palms meeting the countertop. His forehead creased, and he added, "Er . . . womanning the front counter, I guess. Wait, this doesn't sound right. Let me restate: you will be watching the front counter."

I laughed and rapped on the counter with my knuckles. "Got it."

He pointed to a two-page compilation, stapled and perched beside the register. "Here's the list of the foods and beverages, and their prices. If there's anything you're not sure about, I'll be around, and so will all of the other workers."

I nodded.

"Then, from three to six, you and I will switch off, and I'll man—I mean watch—the front counter while you run errands around the store." He smiled at me. "Capiche?"

"It doesn't sound too difficult," I said, wiping the sweat from my palms onto my jeans. "I think I should be able to manage."

"Awesome! You go, girl." He kissed my cheek and brushed past me, walking toward the nook section of Books and Nooks. "Again, I'm around. We're all around." He gestured toward the others working in the kitchen and in various places of the café, and they all smiled at me. I returned their welcomes as best as I could. "Just give us a holler if you need anything!"

"Thanks, Ian." He gallivanted off, and I turned back to my new coworkers. "Hey everyone," I said, taking a deep breath. "I'm Bella."

*

My first day was, to put it bluntly and truthfully, great. I hadn't spilled one drip of tea; I only needed to ask about an item's price twice throughout the entire three hours; I seemed to make the customers happy at the front counter, and didn't run into anyone while doing shop errands. I wasn't sure why I'd been so worried when I woke up—this day surely wasn't a cakewalk, but it also didn't emotionally scar me for life. It was pleasant, and I was looking forward to many more days, exactly like this one.

I blew a strand of hair from my face as Sam took over my spot as errand-runner for the shop.

"I've got it from here," he said in his naturally quiet voice, and he smiled down at me with big doe eyes.

"Thanks! I guess I'm . . . free to go now, then. Since my shift is over." Both of my sentences sounded like questions.

Sam looked as though he was about to answer my questions-but-not-really-sentences when I heard from across the building, "Yep! Go ahead and get gone if you want! You had a great first day! I'm looking forward to seeing more of you! Don't forget that your workdays are Tuesday, Thursday, Sunday, and Monday! See you then!"

I glanced up at Sam, both of us staring at each other for a long moment, and then we both broke into quiet laughter. "I'll see you later, Sam," I chuckled, and he waved goodbye to me when I started walking back toward the counter. "Oh, Ian," I murmured under my breath as I snatched my coat from the coat rack and returned to my place in the nook section. He had the ears of a hawk. Him and Alice would get along so incredibly well. I had to introduce them at some point. Mental note: bring Alice with me to Books and Nooks at some point soon.

Finding a free nook, I set my coat down on the table and rested against it, my upper-thighs leaning against the edge of the table. Now that my shift was over, I figured it'd be acceptable for me to turn my cell phone back on. I held down the "End" button as it vibrated to life. A few seconds after it turned on, a notification popped up onto the screen for a new text message from, expectedly, my mystery man. I pressed a button to view it and flipped open my cell.

I'll hold you to it.

I grinned down at the screen. What a persistent—

"What has you in such a good mood?"

I looked up from my phone to see Edward inches in front of me, on the other side of the table, standing and smiling down at me. His thumbs were tucked into his pockets, his copper hair in beautiful disarray, and his eyes were twinkling at me. I gasped—it was impossible not to.

"Where did you come from?" I asked, surprised by his sudden appearance.

"I've been here since you pulled out your cell phone."

I narrowed my eyes at him, confused. "How? I didn't even hear you . . ."

He shrugged. "I'm a ninja," he said, as though that answered everything.

My eyes snapped back down to my phone, and I shut it hurriedly and shoved it back into my pocket. "It's nothing," I said, answering his question from before. My eyes found his once again. "Just a text message."

His grin spread across his entire face.

"What?"

He shrugged. "It's nothing," he teased, repeating my words.

I stared at him, with his raised eyebrow and barely-repressed cocky grin, and clucked my tongue in his general direction. "Right," I said dubiously. "You are super convincing. Of course it's nothing."

"Now, I'm going to completely annoy you by changing the subject," he warned me.

"Oh, go right ahead." I chuckled.

"I haven't seen you for two entire days!" He clapped his hands together and shrugged melodramatically. "It has been forever. You even look older. It's crazy stuff."

I laughed. "Tell me about it—I'm pretty sure you've grown some scruff since our last meeting." Without my mind's permission, my eyes dropped from his to his jaw line, where I scrutinized his clean-shaven face. "Then again," I sighed, touching the back of a hand to my forehead, "maybe not."

"Alas, a girl can always dream of scruff, though, can't she?" His eyes twinkled as he mocked me.

"Yes, perhaps a girl can dream," I said, playing along. "But a woman on the other hand—such as myself—will always yearn for scruff."

His jaw clenched; a small smile drew up a corner of his lips. "I'll have to keep that in mind." His voice was low and thick, and made a chill run down my spine as my skin grew red and warm.

Flustered, I tried to veer our conversation back on a normal course. "So, how have your two days been?" I muttered.

"Fantastic," he said, his voice still gravelly. "Thanks for asking. I read a bit—at my usual spot in here, of course—and just laid low and kept cool." He grinned at me. "How were your two days?"

"I got this job, I met my friend's new girlfriend, and I am being forced to do something that I really don't want to do," I rattled off. I could almost see his ears pique in curiosity, at which I sighed and shook my head. "Don't ask. It's a long story that involves a lot of hair-pulling and blackmailing, and if I talk about it too much, then I'll get myself all worked up."

He nodded, smiling to himself at my blazing irritation.

"Oh, hey," I said, poking my elbow in his direction. "Have you started The Nazi Officer's Wife yet?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed, leaning forward and smacking his hands on the tabletop. I jumped in shock, but laughed at his obvious enthusiasm for the book. "I just finished the fourth chapter."

"Pepi," I said, nodding—remembering in clear detail exactly where he was in the autobiography.

"He's sweet," he concluded.

"Just wait."

He raised an eyebrow. "Does he go crazy?"

"That's something that I just can't afford to tell you," I said, shrugging with a smile. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you. You'll have to be a good, patient, little boy, and wait and see."

"You are cruel."

"You're calling the woman who lent you the book in the first place cruel?" I tried to fake a frown, but failed dramatically and ended up grinning. "That's not very nice etiquette, Edward Cullen."

He stared at me, pensive and curious. I stared back, displaying the very same emotions as he. He rubbed his chin. I mirrored him. And then, "I'll show you nice etiquette," he said with a sense of ferocity. "Just . . . give me a minute to work up my self-esteem."

"By all means," I said, waving my hand nonchalantly in the air, "take all the time you need."

"Bella," Edward said, and he was suddenly quite serious. I could see his fingers fumbling. "Bella. Do you think you . . . would be interested in . . . um . . ." He rubbed the nape of his neck with a shaky hand.

I raised my eyebrows. "Yes?" I prodded with a small smile.

"Are you free on Friday night?" he asked, and sucked in a breath. His eyes locked with mine, expectant and pleading, and any train of thought in my mind instantly derailed. I didn't want to assume anything, of course—he could be asking me to change his cat's litter box because he would be going on vacation, for all I knew about him. But it seemed as though this beautiful, interesting, humorous, and (thus-far) kind man was requesting to do something, with me, on Friday evening. Friday evening. Friday night. Beginning of the weekend. Friday was the premium night for a date night.

My adrenaline surged as a fresh wave of heat coursed through my body and my face burned red.

If annoying little Emmett hadn't secretly set me up on that blind date, and I did have Friday night free, would I tell Edward that my Friday night was free? Did I want to think of Edward, like that, as more than a friend? As a possible . . . date-friend?

I already do think of him like that, my mind screamed. I shook my head, hoping the movement would shake up my thoughts and make them helpful, rather than condescending.

Condescending . . . and truthful, my mind added. I sighed.

My thoughts flashed to Mystery Man and the friendship I'd formed with him over the phone. If I went out with Edward, would I tell Mystery Man? And if I did, what would he think? Would our conversations become awkward? I pretended I didn't think of it as cheating on my mystery man.

It was then that I realized that I didn't know if Mystery Man was single or not. And that there was so much more that I didn't know about my phone friend.

I am thinking way too much into this.

Edward was still staring at me, waiting for my answer, the corners of his eyes crinkled in anticipation.

"I'm not free," I said finally. My voice sounded weak even to my own ears; it was pathetic. "Unfortunately," I added, for his benefit as well as my own.

Edward's face fell and he averted his eyes to inspect the floor. "Oh. Alright."

"But," I said, shrugging and trying to cheer up the mood, "if it's any consolation, I would give anything to be free on Friday night. I'm not really looking forward to the plans that have been thrust upon my calendar, anyway. I'm kind of being forced to do something that I really don't want to do." I chuckled. "You know that thing I was talking about a couple minutes ago, about me being forced to do something within the past two days?"

He nodded, his eyes still glued to the floor.

"This is what I was referring to. My plans for Friday are most definitely not mine."

His eyes flew to mine, suddenly hopeful again. If he could get me out of my sticky situation . . . "If this is the case, then what are you supposed to do on Friday?" he asked.

I faltered. Saying I'm going to dinner with some guy I don't know to see if we click wouldn't exactly make a fantastic impression. I chewed over my words carefully, and then said, "I'll have you know, this wasn't my doing. Like I said before—these plans are by force."

"Kind of like how that Halloween costume wasn't your doing, either?" His green eyes twinkled as he bit his lip. "Oh, please tell me that your plans for Friday night will give me as much pleasure as that costume surely did."

I could tell that he really meant what he said, and that alone struck me speechless. My cheeks burned and I shifted my weight from leg to leg.

He smiled softly at my obvious embarrassment, and I saw his hand lift toward me before it quickly dropped, his fist clenched at his side. "I apologize. It wasn't my intent to embarrass you."

"Then what was your intent?" I muttered under my breath, annoyed at my own inability to stay blush-free for a conversation. I rubbed my arm.

His jaw clenched to match his fist. "It was nothing," he said gently. His tone contradicted his expression, which seemed pained—his forehead was creased, his lips pulled taut.

I narrowed my eyes at him. His mood swings were making me uncomfortable and giving me this feeling of uncontrollability. "If you're trying to confuse me," I said, "you're being successful."

He chuckled bleakly, and I saw him flex his previously clenched hand. "Good to know." He exhaled, long and deep, and it was as though all the tension in his body left him in that one breath. A smile appeared on his face. "Tell me, though—what is not your doing?"

I rolled my eyes. "It's . . . it's my oaf of a friend, Emmett," I blurted, knowing that Edward would understand my lack of desire for my Friday night's plans.

Edward's eyebrows rose up so high on his forehead, I was surprised they didn't fly off his face. "Emmett?" he squeaked, and I fought to not laugh at the sound of his suddenly prepubescent-sounding voice.

I nodded my head obstinately. "He's set me up on this blind date with one of his friends for this Friday, and I desperately don't want to go, because a blind date sounds like the lasting thing on Earth that I would enjoy enduring. Not that the guy wouldn't be nice or charming," I reasoned, "it's just that I'd rather meet a guy by being drawn to his personality or charming good looks"—Edward grinned when I blushed at my own words—"in comparison to being setup with the man."

Edward's brilliant smile seemed irrepressible as he stared at me like I was a new person—with awe and astonishment. "So let me get this straight: you are supposed to meet a stranger this Friday because a man called Emmett has set you up with said person?"

I nodded. "Yes," I sighed pathetically.

"How funny," he mused in a mesmerized voice. "It's almost like déjà vu."

"And why is that?"

"Because the exact same thing happened to me, too."

I scoffed.

"Honestly," he insisted, his eyes bright with excitement.

What? He had to be joking me. There was just no way . . . I started chuckling, unable to keep my laughter in. He looked at me with questioning delight while my body shook with snickers. "What are you talking about?" I guffawed.

Edward grinned widely at my amusement. "I was told—by Emmett—to meet a girl on Friday, too!"

"You liar," I managed to say through breathless laughs. "You can stop trying to make me feel better. I'll just have to be a big girl, suck it up, and somehow get through the 'date'—if you can even call it a date. More like an impending death."

His eyes smiled. "No, really! I wouldn't lie to you, especially about this. I promise. I believe that you and I were set-up on a blind date—for each other." His face gave away the secret that he would be completely happy about this outcome.

I arched an eyebrow. "You're . . . you're serious?"

"Deadly." He nodded gravely.

"You know Emmett?" I asked dubiously, my hands perched on my hips.

He nodded again, his eyes urging me to believe him. Was it possible? Was Edward the "friend" that Emmett had set me up with? Could Edward and I both share the same friend and not even realize it? I couldn't wrap my mind around the prospect, but it wasn't an impossible idea, either.

"I still don't believe you." I pursed my lips. "Prove it."

He snorted, but he was grinning that crooked smile that I loved to see on his face. "How do you want me to prove it?"

"Prove that we know the same Emmett," I suggested. "Prove that you were set-up in the first place."

His fingers tapped against the thigh of his jeans as he pondered my requests. He clucked his tongue several times and then said, "Emmett: massive. Beastly. Short, curly brown hair. He loves to laugh, and anything goes as long as it's fun. He has a new girlfriend, also—if I remember correctly, her name is Rosalie."

This cannot be possible . . . "No . . . freaking . . . way," I gasped. I probably resembled a goldfish in its bowl: jaw hanging open, floundering for a way out.

"No freaking way that his girlfriend's name is Rosalie, or no freaking way that I'm right about everything?" He grinned, large and toothy and crooked, and it took me a moment to regain control of my thoughts again.

"That's . . . impressive, but it's . . . still . . . not good enough," I sputtered, fishing for an excuse that would prove his intentions to be false. I wasn't sure why I was so insistent to not believe him. If anything, having Edward as my blind date would be nothing short of phenomenal. But this shield around my heart was steadfast and thick with confusion, and it didn't seem to want to crack anytime soon. "Maybe you just stalked me, figured out that I know Emmett, and are pretending to be my blind date just so you can spend more time with me."

He laughed, his head tilting back. "That is quite a bit of work to go through, just to get a date with you."

"Oh, but wouldn't the outcome be worth it?" I teased, giving him a smile.

He looked at me and his smile mirrored mine, soft and sweet. "Without a doubt," he said.

I flushed brilliantly and ducked my head. "Right," I muttered disbelievingly. Either Edward didn't hear me, or he grew tired of my disbelief for everything concerning him and his opinions, because he didn't say a word. When I looked back up at him, I said, "Call Emmett."

His smile grew—happy that he had an attempt to continue to prove his theory to me. "Okay."

"If you're really friends with my Emmett," I reasoned, "then you ought to know his phone number. And if you do get a hold of him, then get him to confirm—on the phone—that you have a blind date this Friday."

He nodded, withdrawing his cell phone from jeans pocket and scrolling through his contacts. "You really don't want me to be your blind date, do you?" he murmured, his lips twitching upward as he pressed some buttons on his phone. I stepped slightly in front of him so I could see what he was doing on his cell phone. Our shoulders touched from the intimate position, and—embarrassingly—my heart pounded loudly. The thump sounded deafening to my ears; I desperately hoped he didn't hear it.

"It's not that," I disagreed. "I just . . . find it hard to believe, that's all."

"Find what hard to believe?" he asked as he clicked a button on his phone—his contacts list came up. I could feel his warm breath on the skin of my neck exposed by my ponytail. I gulped.

"That we both could have the same friend without us meeting before," I said, my hands wringing together.

I felt him shrug behind me. He reached the Es in his contacts. "Well, I have only known the ogre for maybe two weeks." I watched as the named Emmett McCarty appeared on the tiny screen of his cell phone. My jaw dropped—he really was a friend of my Emmett.

As his thumb scrolled to Emmett's name and pressed the "Call" button, I whispered, "Now we just have to see if he did indeed set you up blindly. How did you meet him, anyway?"

Edward twisted his hand so the phone wasn't hovering over his mouth and said, "We both enjoy jogging in Central Park." Ah. So that explained it. We both heard the click as someone picked up the phone, and Edward maneuvered the phone between our heads so I could hear not only Edward's side of the conversation, but Emmett's side, as well.

"Hello?" Emmett answered, sounding out of breath.

"Hey, man," Edward said, and I heard his tone switch from his Talking With Girls voice to his Talking To The Guys voice—now it was deep and energetic, rather than smooth and flirtatious. I rolled my eyes at the stereotypical sound of it all. "It's Edward."

"Edward! Hey. What's on your mind?" I heard Emmett fumbling in the background, and I squirmed closer to Edward so I could hear. "You're not already backing out of the blind date plans I made for you for Friday, are you?"

I didn't need to look up at Edward to know he was grinning in victory. The light gleaming off of his smiling, shockingly white teeth was metaphorically blinding me. Less than ten seconds into the conversation and Edward had already proved himself right, and me wrong. Darn you, McCarty. I will get my revenge. Though, was I really upset at Emmett for setting me up on a date with Edward Cullen?

It took less than a second for me to answer my mind's question.

No, I was not upset. Not in the slightest.

"No, of course not," Edward said, his words and my thoughts scarily alike. "In fact, I'm looking forward to it now."

"Oh yeah?" Emmett sounded doubtful but cheerful at Edward's change in mood. "That's great! I'm certainly no expert in matchmaking . . . but I think you and this girl will hit it off."

Girl? I wanted to groan at Emmett's word choice, but I couldn't let him know that I was right next to Edward.

Edward, on the other hand, seemed to want to gain as much information from Emmett as possible. "I know that this is supposed to be a blind date, so I can't know this young woman's name or anything like that." I glanced up at him, and he winked down at me. "But could you maybe describe the lovely lady for me?"

"She's got brown hair and brown eyes," Emmett said. I rolled my eyes. Of course he'd begin with the physical appearances—he was Emmett. "She can have a pretty sharp tongue, so watch yourself, buddy: her words can cut deep." My jaw clenched; Edward tried to muffle his laughter. "She's stubborn. You can try to order her dinner for her, but I doubt she'll let you, unless you really persist. She herself is so incredibly persistent, but she can't stand persistence in others. She's hypocritical and completely self-deprecating." Trying to stay silent, I bit my lip so hard that I tasted a drop of blood. Edward saw my expression and tried to rub my back soothingly, but his hand trembled with his repressed laughter. "But don't get me wrong—once you get past the thick exterior and stubborn resistance, she's actually incredibly sweet." It didn't escape my notice that his comment was an insult wrapped in a compliment.

"Well," Edward exhaled as his thumb traced my spine, "that was quite a bit more information than I was bargaining for. Thank you as always, Emmett, for your poetic and kind way with words."

Emmett boomed his laughter. "Dude, I'm just speaking the truth! And no problem at all, my friend—whatever you need. Hey," he said, sounding distracted by something on his end of the phone, "I . . . have to go take care of some things. Can I call you later?"

I felt Edward nod at my side; my eyes were unfocused, just listening to the conversation. "Of course. Call anytime. And good luck with . . . whatever you need to take care of." He chuckled lowly under his breath.

"Later, man!" Emmett said quickly, and hung up before Edward could respond. Still chuckling, he closed his phone and slid it back into his pocket.

I glanced up at him and his sideways smile. "What's so funny?"

"Emmett and the 'things he has to take care of,'" he said, amused.

"What?" I persisted.

He arched an eyebrow at me. "You must not have been close enough to the phone to hear Rosalie's murmuring on the other end."

I blushed deeply at what those murmurs must have meant, but smiled all the same. "I should've known . . . those two were made for each other, I swear. Her kindness balances his boastfulness, and his desire balances her shy love. Not to mention that they're wonderfully pretty together."

Edward's mind, though, was in a completely different place. "I can't believe that Emmett said those things about you. Some I can understand," he chuckled, "the stubbornness, I suppose. But the tough exterior? I haven't seen an inch of that." He regarded me with gentle eyes.

The thought of Emmett telling Edward those things about me riled me up once more, and I huffed into Edward's chest as I turned around to face him fully. "Me neither. I feel kind of backstabbed, actually. And then he twisted that knife in my back three times in a counterclockwise rotation, angling it at a forty-five degree angle."

Edward laughed lightly. "Vicious, mathematical, and melodramatic," he said, talking about my comment. "My favorite combination."

"I try," I teased. "Anyway, the way Emmett talked about me makes me want to not go through with this whole 'blind date' thing, after all."

"Now that we know we're each other's dates, it wouldn't really be considered a 'blind date' anymore, would it? I think it'd just be a date. Between you and me." He smiled crookedly, successfully making me fight to keep my breath.

"The only reason I was going to do the blind date to begin with," I continued, pretending Edward hadn't taken away my right to consume oxygen, "is that Emmett had blackmailed me with my kindness, saying that someone as nice as me wouldn't let my poor blind date down by standing him up. But if Emmett isn't going to tell my blind date that I'm nice in the first place, then I'm not going to be nice to Emmett in return, either."

Edward stared down at me calculatingly. "The way your mind works is fascinating," he murmured. "What are you planning, you conniving little girl?"

"Number one, don't call me a little girl. Ever. Don't gain that habit from Emmett."

He nodded with a quirked smile.

"And number two, I'm thinking about a little . . . revenge for him setting us up together in the first place. He knows that neither of us is really the blind-dating type, but yet he proceeded to follow his boisterous instinct and have us meet under unusual circumstances anyway. We need to get him back for that. And the best part is—he doesn't know that we know each other already."

"Alright . . ." he agreed slowly, still staring at me curiously. For a moment, I was just swimming in his verdant eyes—and drowning in the process. "Any ideas for revenge?"

I tilted my head to the side in thought, my forehead creasing as I tried to think of something, anything that could act as the perfect blackmail. Then it hit me, like I'd run into a brick wall. I grinned.

"My oh my," Edward murmured, our eyes remaining locked, "that's quite the malicious smile you've got on your face. What is running through your head, Bella?"

I smiled up at him, my mind whirring with a plan. It was simple, and not many steps were involved, but it was sure to dethrone Emmett from his placement as King Of The Blind Dates. "Just wait and watch," I whispered to him as I found my cell phone in my pocket and pulled it out. Now it was his turn to sashay around me, his torso touching my back as he peered over my shoulder. I scrolled through my recent calls until I found the one that I knew I could count on. I pressed the button proclaiming Send and waited as the phone rang.

Ring . . . ring . . . I could feel Edward's breath on my neck . . . quit trying to distract me, Edward . . . ring . . . "Hello?"

"Alice," I said, unable to wipe the excited and slightly mischievous grin off my face as I turned around and stared into Edward's equally excited emerald eyes. "Do you still have that picture we took of Emmett and Rosalie at the Halloween party?"

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dun dun duuuun!

my second so-called "cliffhanger" in a row, i guess? i apologize. this was just the perfect place to end.

your reviews and comments are the cheese to my macaroni of a story. love you, guys!

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