Maybe I'm Falling For You Chapter 1: Good Day Sunshine, a twilight fanfic

A/N: Flightlessbird11: So, I was listening to Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop by that dude Landon Pigg and all of a sudden this idea for a story popped into my brain... BAM

Coldplaywhore: You mean the song from the AT&T commercial right?

Flightlessbird11: Yeah, that's the one. *rolls her eyes* Anyways, Bella and Edward meet at a coffee shop one day and basically drool over each other and then go home to their computers and chat online.

Coldplaywhore: So? What's so thrilling about that? Where the hell are the lemons and the UST? Why can't they talk in the coffee shop and then have sex against the macchiato machine or something?

Flightlessbird11: Well, duh… they have no idea that they've just met in real life!

Coldplaywhore: Ohhhh! Well that does sound interesting, but how can we twist that? By the way, do you say 'duh' in real life too? If so, I'm glad we've never met, yet!

Flightlessbird11: Well, I'd tell you, but... um (whispers and points to readers) we kind of have an audience and I don't want to spoil anything for them, and no I do not say 'duh' in real life. So shut your pie whole whore.

Coldplaywhore: Well then, without further adieu here is Chapter One of this random little mess we like to call 'MIFFY'.

EPOV

Shoelaces untied
You can dry your eyes
Perfect shadows alive
Behind us
This is the day I make you mine

The way your hair lies
sometimes unrecognized
All the way from these today
on a train
Nothing to say if there's still time

But you are the one
I've been waiting for today
And here comes the sun
That's been baiting on today

I've only lived in this neighborhood for a month, but already I have seen the weirdest people imaginable. There was the one guy who carried around an empty guitar case completely open and I couldn't help but wonder if he lost his guitar. There's also this guy who mumbles incoherent babble down on Houston who seemed to revel in the fact that the world was coming to an end soon. Then there was the one girl who had a fake parrot on her shoulder and liked to talk like a pirate, she had hit on me and I quickly pretended I was unable to speak English and ran like the wind. Today's seemed to take the cake though.

I was waiting patiently at 'Common Grounds' the coffee shop located mere steps from my apartment listening to the girl in front of me sing Joshua Radin at the top of her lungs. That wasn't the interesting thing though. Her odd choice of clothing had completely caught me off guard. She had long dark brown hair buried underneath a yellow rain hat and her small frame was hidden behind an oversized bright yellow rain slicker. From the back, she looked like a female version of the Gorton's Fisherman; I kid you not. The strange girl also had red and white striped socks pulled up to her knees as well as a pair of blue rain boots covered in tiny white skulls and roses.

She was in the middle of singing and not paying attention when the person in front of her finished ordering their coffee and the girl at the counter was trying to get her attention, to no avail. I looked back and forth between the girl in front of me and the girl at the counter for a moment, before coming to the conclusion that it was up to me to get her attention. I tapped her twice on the shoulder. "You're up," I said as she turned to look at me, taking an ear bud out of her ear.

It was like the wind was knocked out of me as I looked at her, right in the eyes. She was beautiful and I immediately forgot what the hell I was doing. Her long brown hair hung down her shoulders and she wore what I could only guess was a very long homemade scarf in multi colors around her small and graceful neck. The piece de resistance though was the fact under her oversized rain slicker she wore a very tight white t-shirt that said 'Give a Hoot, Don't Pollute' and a pair of indecently short shorts. I could even see her black lace bra beneath the shirt and I grew hard instantly. Jesus Christ, she was my fucking wet dream come to life.

She looked at me for a moment, obviously trying to figure out what the hell I meant, her eyebrows knitting together in the cutest fucking way. "Sorry," she said, turning around and walking towards the counter.

"Large café latte with extra foam please," she announced to the girl behind the counter, whose nametag read 'Margaret'. We had become somewhat friendly in the three straight weeks I had come here and she was sweet enough to me, even though she simply took my order and passed me along to the next person to assist me. I probably stood out like a geeky sore thumb in the crowd of crazies that came in here. I was dressed in a simple pair of khaki shorts with a short sleeved dark green button down shirt and a pair of Birkenstock sandals. I looked like I should be going to a clambake, not a coffee shop in the middle of Greenwich Village.

I clutched my newspaper under my arm and had planned to sit on one of the small tables outside to simply enjoy the May morning, but apparently the weather was not planning to agree with me because just as I moved up to place my order, it began to rain outside. My newspaper would now be used to shelter my head as I ran back into the obscene quiet of my apartment. Perhaps I would just find a seat inside the small café and relax here instead.

"Regular Espresso Machiatto," I announced to Margaret as the girl in front of me turned to pick up her own coffee from the counter. She grasped her drink and turned to walk outside, bitching about the weather even though she was completely dressed for it. "Do you know that girl?" I asked Margaret as she nodded her head slowly.

"Yeah, she's in every morning around the same time. I think she lives around here. Dresses like a hot mess all the time," she said with a gentle laugh as I shook my head and quickly pulled a five dollar bill from my wallet to pay for my drink and muffin. I moved to the side to wait for my purchase as I looked out the window and watched her walk down the busy street, not really giving a shit that it was pouring rain outside, a smile wide on her face as she looked like she began singing again. I was smitten.

After I picked up my order, the rain had subsided enough for me to consider making a mad dash back to the confines of my apartment. As I moved to leave, I saw the parrot girl walking into the shop and quickly made a bee line to the magazine rack to ignore her as best as I could. As she got into line, I ran out the front door and across the street into my building, eagerly bouncing up the stairs.

When I walked in, I peeled off my slightly dampened shirt and settled in front of my desk, turning on my laptop as I took a sip of my coffee. As I waited impatiently for it to load up, the Windows logo annoying me beyond belief, I took a quick bite of my muffin and flipped open my newspaper to the life and times section to see if any of my upcoming clients were featured in the 'engagements' section.

People in New York City were obsessive about their weddings and it truly worked to my benefit. When I wasn't writing crappy greeting cards from the comfort of my home for a major corporation, I work as a wedding photographer. Brides were willing to pay almost anything for my services and my wallet appreciated it more than they realized it. I had often gone home with a few of the female guests at the weddings, but lately it had been getting more than tiresome. I realized not too long ago that I wanted something more… something like the thirty years of marriage my parents were celebrating later in the summer. I wanted 'the one.'

PennyLane84: Morning Stranger.

Ah, one of my favorite times of the day, when I found my constant companion online or in today's case she found me.

Paperback_Writer: Morning yourself.

PennyLane84: I didn't see you around last night, started to worry you got attacked by the parrot lady again.

Paperback_Writer: Thankfully no, although I did see her this morning at my local coffee shop. I hid like a coward and prayed she found her own personal pirate… or walked off the plank, either option seemed good to me.

PennyLane84 and I had met online several months ago on a music based chat room where we got into a heated discussion with some punk teenager with the handle 'Paul_iz_Ded', who insisted to us that the Beatles were overrated. Of course, PennyLane and I being huge Beatles fans, as evidenced by our own handles, spent the next few hours trying to bend him to our ways and lead him from the dark side, to no avail. On a positive note though, I struck an unlikely friendship with another fellow New Yorker and we chatted about virtually everything, including my favorite parrot lady.

PennyLane84: That's a shame, she sounded like a lovely woman, arrghh… (attempting pirate impression. Is it working?)

Paperback_Writer: Yeah, I tend to prefer my ladies with pets that don't molt. (No, not really. LOL)

PennyLane84: No molting pets. Got it. Can you handle two crazy roommates? Thanks for crushing my ego btw.

Paperback_Writer: Well if it helps at all, I am sure hidden behind your computer monitor I am certain you are a pretty woman. (Stroking the ego as best as I can) I don't do crazy roommates either. If I did, I'd still be living with my two best friends.

PennyLane84: Apology accepted. Do you live alone?

Paperback_Writer: No. I have 87 cats actually. I'm the cat man of New York City.

PennyLane84: See, we could never work in real life. I love dogs.

Paperback_Writer: Whatever PL84. You don't have a pet, you just told me so. What makes you think you wouldn't like one of my cats?

PennyLane84: Allergies.

Paperback_Writer: Look at that… the cats are gone. I have an allergy to raisins, or at least I tell people I do because I hate the texture.

PennyLane84: And you think the parrot lady is weird?

Paperback_Writer: Make fun all you want. Didn't you previously mention an aversion to cereal?

PennyLane84: Not all cereal… just the shit that stays crunchy in milk. I mean, how do they do that? Isn't it supposed to go soft? I'm certain they smother the cereal in all sorts of additives and preservatives that will probably cause me to sprout a third limb. Although I suppose an extra arm would help me walk the dogs.

Paperback_Writer: It always comes back to those damned dogs.

PennyLane94: So what's on your agenda for the day?

Paperback_Writer: Oh you know, the regular shit. Knitting an afghan for my hard of hearing grandmother with belly button lint, taking my underwater basket weaving class down at the Y and after that I think I have to skip to my loo. What about you PL?

PennyLane84: I have to get to work and walk some dogs around a park, scooping up their feces for way too little money. Then I think I might force my roommates to eat some of my atrociously bad cooking.

Paperback_Writer: Sounds thrilling. Too bad you can't cook for me, I'm absolutely horrible. Perhaps I should sign up for cooking classes at the Y after I'm done learning about underwater basket weaving.

PennyLane84: Dog walking is not thrilling in the least, but it certainly beats working for the man, don't you think? As for the cooking, my roommates say it's good, but I tend to be a bit experimental. I think they are just being nice because I haven't killed them yet.

Paperback_Writer: Ah death by casserole, what a way to go.

PennyLane84: Speaking of going, if I don't sign off soon the Pug might walk himself. Have a great morning PBW. C U Soon.

With that final sign off, she was gone. Her name was no longer highlighted on my little messenger system and my heart stopped soaring for a moment. I tried to ignore the thoughts and feelings my online friend made come to life within me and grabbed my coffee and paper, opting to get comfortable on my couch to finish up the morning.

I flipped through the paper again and found the wedding notice for Jill Turner and Mike Smithson, who were one of the couples I would be photographing in a few weeks. I read their small article about their upcoming wedding, which was being held at the Central Park Boathouse and then finished up my drink. Grabbing my laptop from my desk, I logged into my work email and immediately started sorting through everything that was sent my way from the head office in Philadelphia.

This week's assignment was to work on funny yet sympathetic get well cards, which sounds just as moronic to me as it does to you. My boss, Eric Yorkie, was a bit of a hard ass about deadlines and today was Tuesday. Surely I could figure something out by Friday that would be deemed suitable for the masses. Every time I seemed to submit something to them, they came back gushing and it was generally something that had taken me a total of five minutes or a trip to the bathroom. I did my best thinking in the bathroom, but didn't most men? Sure working part-time from home on greeting cards was a great way to subsidize my income during the downtime the wedding season inevitably had, but it was boring as fuck. As I tapped my finger against the edge of my keyboard, my thoughts went to PennyLane84, not my job. Today was going to be a complete fucking waste of time.

BPOV

I woke up early. A little too early, for my liking anyway. After a failed attempt at going back to sleep, I decided to simply get up and brave the outside world.

I hopped out of bed and ran to the window. Great, it was cloudy and no doubt rain would be falling any moment now. What was this, Seattle? I let out a huff and dressed in the first things that I found on my floor, grabbing my raincoat as a precaution on the way out of the door of the four-bedroom brownstone that I shared with my two best friends, Rosalie and Alice.

We each had our own rooms in our unconventionally decorated place in Greenwich Village, with me using the fourth bedroom as an art studio. I used that room for pretty much anything, painting, sketching, whatever my creative flow commanded in one particular moment, really. Walking into that room, you would think you've stepped into a war zone, but that was exactly how I liked it and I was lucky if Alice or Rosalie ever stepped into that room again, after they'd seen the mess I left behind once we'd been here a few months.

Alice and I had known each other since high school, which we both attended in our home town of Forks, Washington. We graduated and headed to Princeton together, where we met Rose. Getting away from home and discovering the east coast had been the best experience in both of our lives. All three of us moved to New York City right after graduation and have lived together in chaotic harmony ever since.

Alice was now the owner a small consignment shop, which she appropriately dubbed 'Second Chances', where she sold only higher end vintage clothes. I had to admit, her job was definitely a perk of our friendship since she tended to bring home some of the most fabulous clothes that were dropped off. How she ever made a profit when she was bringing home vintage Chanel and Dior, I'll never know. On the opposite end of the spectrum, Rosalie worked as a manager in a local sex shop called 'Forbidden Fruits.' She had graduated with a degree in engineering and even though she would sometimes do contract work for various companies on the side, she loved working retail. I always thought she was glutton for punishment since she tended to cater to the creepers of NYC, but it was her choice.

I worked for myself, taking whatever opportunity my art brought to me, while I exercised my love for dogs by working as a dog walker. I had a select group of dogs that I walked through the streets of Manhattan, which usually meant around the NYU campus until we reached Washington Square Park, where they tended to converge with other dogs to sniff butts. Aro, was a huge German Shepherd whose owners were thrilled when I met them one day and they offered to pay me to walk their dog. That was how this whole business got started. Now I also walked Caius, a Doberman pinscher, Heidi, a terribly obnoxious Chihuahua and Shady, a slightly overweight Pug who I tended to walk more often than the others, just because he needed it.

This morning though, I found myself sprinting the three blocks from my apartment over to my favorite coffee shop called 'Common Grounds.' They had the best coffee, which was convenient for me since I was a complete caffeine addict. Just as I was finished straightening myself from my run to the shop, I noticed that Joshua Radin's 'Today' was playing on my iPod; I couldn't help but sing along with the lyrics. "But you are the oneeee I've been waiting for today, and here comes the sun, that's been baiting on toda-" I was interrupted by a gentle tap on the shoulder from the guy that was standing behind me.

"You're up," said the smooth, velvet voice of the person standing behind me. I turned my head towards him to apologize for not paying attention and was met with the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen in my entire life. Looking up slightly, because the top of my head just about reached his shoulders, I saw the most gorgeous emerald green eyes and gentlest smile on the most handsome face I'd ever seen on a man. All of his features fit his face perfectly, from his firm jaw line t the way his eyebrows scrunched together as he looked at me, to his nose that was so perfectly situated on his face that it looked like it had been made to fit there. Atop his head was a disheveled mess of auburn hair that practically called out for me to run my fingers through it, just to feel it. He was beautiful.

After a moment I realized that if I stared at him any longer, it would be obvious that I was gawking. "Sorry," I said with a gentle smile as I turned my head forwards again and stepped towards the counter, feeling like a complete, mute idiot and just praying that I wouldn't slip.

"Large café latte with extra foam please," I told the girl at the counter. I'd forgotten to say hello to Margaret, the girl behind the counter, seeing as I was a little bit flustered at seeing the gorgeous man behind me. I'd known her for as long as she'd been working at Common Grounds and in the past few months we'd become friendlier. She always found a way to tease me about my clothes, which I didn't blame her for, since I was used to other people teasing me about my clothes. Especially today, with my bright yellow rain slicker, knee-high striped socks and funky rain boots. I paid Margaret before she handed me my coffee, which I greedily accepted. I had a feeling I would need a steaming hot cup of joe today.

I fled the coffee shop as fast as I could, in an attempt to not be incapacitated once again by the dazzling specimen of a man that was standing behind me. Once I was outside, the rain that I had expected had finally started to fall so I kept up the pace of my fast walk, but as soon as I turned the corner onto my block, I realized that I should have kept a slower pace because I slipped on a wet piece of paper and the next thing I knew, my feet flew out from under me and I landed flat on my ass. I sat there for a moment, stunned and realizing that I'd fallen and immediately smiled when I saw that I'd managed to hold on to my coffee and not spill a single drop. I'm a professional clumsy bitch, I thought to myself with a laugh.

My ass was soaking wet, but I decided that a slow pace was a better alternative from here on out than falling again. When I finally reached my apartment door, I scurried inside and began stripping off my wet shorts and changing into a pair of my comfy polka dot boxer shorts. I headed over to my Mac, which is infinitely better and faster than the PC I'd owned for three years prior and saw Paperback_Writer was online.

I'd been chatting with Paperback_Writer for a few months, a friendship forming from our mutual love of The Beatles. We talked mostly every day, but unfortunately Alice and Rosalie had kept me from my computer last night and when I finally did manage to get online, he was nowhere to be found, which had been oddly disappointing. Seizing the opportunity, I decided to message him.

PennyLane84: Morning Stranger.

A long and arduous minute later, he responded.

Paperback_Writer: Morning yourself.

PennyLane84: I didn't see you around last night, started to worry you got attacked by the parrot lady again.

He frequently talked about the infamous Parrot Lady who he told me he saw nearly every morning in his daily routine. The other day he reported that she'd hit on him and he pretended that he didn't speak English and quickly ran away in order to get away from her.

PennyLane84: That's a shame, she sounded like a lovely woman, arrghh… (attempting pirate impression. Is it working?)

Paperback_Writer: Yeah, I tend to prefer my ladies with pets that don't molt. (No, not really. LOL)

I actually giggled out loud at his comment.

PennyLane84: No molting pets. Got it. Can you handle two crazy roommates? Thanks for crushing my ego btw.

Hmm. Living with two best friends. Sounds familiar.

PennyLane84: Apology accepted. Do you live alone?

Paperback_Writer: No. I have 87 cats actually. I'm the cat man of New York City.

PennyLane84: See, we could never work in real life. I love dogs.

Speaking of dogs, I looked over at my clock and saw that I had ten minutes before I needed to go pick some of the little beasts up. As much as I loved my art, which was in fact my true passion, I had to admit that I enjoyed dog walking job just as much. I'd always had a love for animals, and so when I moved to New York and needed a steady (well, steady-ish) job, dog walking seemed ideal. I was wrong for two reasons; one was the fact that I had to deal with large monstrosities of dogs that walked me more than I walked them and two, the pay sucked. Although the fresh air that I was afforded every day in taking them out was also a bonus.

Paperback_Writer: Whatever PL84. You don't have a pet, you just told me so. What makes you think you wouldn't like one of my cats?

PennyLane84: Allergies.

Paperback_Writer: Look at that… the cats are gone. I have an allergy to raisins, or at least I tell people I do because I hate the texture.

PennyLane84: And you think the parrot lady is weird?

Paperback_Writer: Make fun all you want. Didn't you previously mention an aversion to cereal?

Paperback_Writer: It always comes back to those damned dogs.

PennyLane94: So what's on your agenda for the day?

I glanced down at the clock on the corner of my screen and began cursing myself. Shit, I really needed to get moving.

Paperback_Writer: Ah death by casserole, what a way to go.

PennyLane84: Speaking of going, if I don't sign off soon the Pug might walk himself. Have a great morning PBW. C U Soon.

With that I signed off and put my rain jacket and rain boots back on, looking out the window to see that the rain had mostly stopped, but I still wasn't taking any chances.

A/N: We're planning to post on a weekly basis, probably on Sunday nights, so be aware of that. Did you hate it? Love It? Already clamoring for a sequel LOL. Press the little green button and let us know your thoughts.