A/N: Thank you to AccioBourbon, HMonster4, and TheHeartofLife for organizing this whole project. Extra special thanks go to AccioBourbon, who cajoled me into signing up, and then did pre-reading duties and a lot of hand-holding. IdPattThat gave me a hilariously honest pre-read. Minervajean and Tehrager are the two best pre-readers/betas that a girl could ask for. You two are the music in me, the wind beneath my wings, and the peanut butter to my jelly. I could not have done this without you. 3 3 3
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As he circled the apple display, Emmett couldn't help but hear her before he saw her, marching towards the produce department, looking like she couldn't decide between frustration and panic.
"Yeah, I got it Ange. Three aubergines, a lemon, and a pound of fresh mozzarella. I'm hanging up now, because you're turning into a crazy person." Huffing, she threw her phone in her hand basket and stopped dead in her tracks. "Of course, it would help if I knew what an aubergine was. Gah!" Apparently, frustration won out.
"It's eggplant," Emmett offered up tentatively. He'd learned the hard way that it wasn't always wise to get in the way of a frustrated woman, even if your intentions were noble.
"What?"
"Aubergine. It's eggplant. Sorry. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but..."
"No, no, it's fine. Thanks. You saved me a phone call. Call it wishful thinking but...what are the chances you know how to pick out an aubergine?"
Something about the way she said "aubergine", like it was almost a dirty word, made Emmett want to laugh out loud. She didn't strike him as the kind of girl who flailed around, always looking for a knight in shining armour to save her from life's little complications. In all actuality, she looked like she was ten seconds away from pulling out her cell phone and googling "How to Buy Eggplant". He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want to let her get away just yet. "You want me to help you pick out produce? Isn't that a little forward?"
"I know, I'm sorry. It's just...my friend Angela. She's a touch on the high strung side. Which is usually great. She's great, really. Just, not so much when people don't meet expectations. And now I got roped into this and I'm babbling like a crazy lady in the produce section at a really cute guy. Really, you can ignore me."
"Not only am I not going to ignore you, I will help you find the perfect aubergine for your great, yet high strung friend. Come on, the perfect fruit awaits you," Emmett responded with what he hoped was casual, yet engaging, joviality. Mentally, he had already started to question his behavior. Who am I, and what world is this? Am I really using eggplant as an opening? Lame dude, really lame.
"Wait a minute. Are you some kind of weird serial killer who stalks his prey at the apple kiosk? Is this aubergine knowledge just a ruse to get me away from prying eyes?" The corner of her mouth turned up just enough to let Emmett know that she was kidding, and gave him the courage to ignore his inner critic and forge ahead.
"So you won't believe me if I tell you the best aubergines get stored in the alley behind the store, and you can only pick them after dark?"
She threw her head back and laughed, not the giggle Emmett would have expected from someone so feminine, but a deep, throaty laugh.
"I like your style. I think I'll take my chances. Show me what you've got, Produce-Boy."
As he sorted through the display, Emmett rambled on about how to pick the perfect aubergine.
"You want one that's medium sized, with firm, but pliable skin, and even color. Like this, see?" Holding one out for inspection, he couldn't help but grin at the look of amusement on her face. Suddenly, he remembered that she had called him "a really cute guy", and he wanted to pat himself on the back for somehow managing to strike up a legitimate conversation at the grocery store.
"Wow. You're like the eggplant-whisperer, or something. Seriously, thank you. I would be embarrassed about this, if I weren't so grateful."
"Well, helping solve produce-related crises is kind of my secret superpower. Who needs flying or x-ray vision when..." Emmett trailed off as his cell phone began to bleat a familiar ringtone. "I'm sorry. I have to get this...just...gah! I'm sorry."
As he paced, he willed his sister to hurry up and get to the point. "Alice, you know I love you, but seriously. Right now you are the teacher from Charlie Brown to me." Looking up, he saw his damsel in distress give him a sheepish grimace. Pointing at her wrist she whispered "I have to go. I'm sorry. Thank you so much. You saved me. I have to go."
"Shit. Hold on, Al. Wait! What's your...dammit."
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Three weeks later, Emmett still couldn't shake the memory of his mystery woman. After a week, he had reluctantly shared the story with his sister Alice and her husband, Jasper. Predictably, Alice thought it was romantic, and that he should be stalking produce sections city-wide to try to find his pretty damsel. Jasper gave him a sympathetic clap on the shoulder and bypassed the beer in favor of scotch. He was surprised he hadn't heard his mother's thoughts on the issue; Alice wasn't normally known for her discretion, especially when it came to her big brother. Either Alice hadn't mentioned it, or Esme was biding her time. He hoped his luck held through at least tonight.
Normally, Emmett and his siblings took turns attending the hospital's annual Black Tie Gala with their parents, but Edward had begged off at the last minute, leaving two empty seats at their parents' table. If only he had gotten her name, maybe he would have been able to bring mystery girl tonight. Shaking his head quickly to dislodge that thought, Emmett looked up at the sound of high heels on hardwood.
"Alright, I'm ready. Sorry about that. Crisis averted, let's go eat small portions of expensive food and pretend to look interested. I've been practicing my "oh, how fascinating" face since I got your call this morning."
Laughing, Emmett took an appreciative look at his best friend. "Rosie, Rosie, Rosie. You look amazing. Thank you for this, by the way. Are you sure Peter doesn't mind me borrowing his girl for the night?"
"Are you kidding me? I think he's grateful. Now he has an excuse to go play pool with his friends, instead of suffering through a Saturday night Harry Potter marathon. Plus, this should satisfy my need to get dressed up and go somewhere fancy, so he's off the hook on that for a little while, too. He'll probably send you a thank you card." Her easy tone and the way her face lit up as she spoke made her love for Peter obvious. As they made their way to the car and headed towards the hotel, Emmett couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at how easy Peter's life was. He had a gorgeous, smart girlfriend who was just as at ease watching movies at home as she was attending fancy dinners.
"Why is it again that I never snapped you up?" he questioned as they pulled into the valet line.
"I've known you since I was four. I have memories of you throwing temper tantrums over the red crayon, Emmett. Besides, we're too alike. What's got you in a mood, anyway? Is this still about that girl with the eggplants? You've exceeded the statute of limitations on moping about that, you know. If you don't snap out of it, I'm going to have to stage some sort of intervention. Do you really want to have to listen to Esme tell you she loves you like crazy, but she needs you to get laid? Because if you do, I can make that happen. Just say the word."
"God forbid," Emmett shuddered a little as he took Rose's arm to lead her into the ballroom. "Let's never use the phrase 'get laid' and my mother's name in the same sentence, ever again. Please."
As they made their way across the ballroom, Rose provided commentary on who had had plastic surgery, who looked even more miserable than they had at the last ball, and the sorry state of what the organizers were passing off as hors d'oeuvres. Except this year, something was off.
"Emmett, oh my God. This food is actually good," came the shocked pronouncement. "No, really," she continued when he shot her a disbelieving look. It wouldn't be the first time she had convinced him to eat something unappetizing. "They must have gotten a new caterer, because this is food I would actually choose to eat."
"They did," confirmed Esme. Neither Emmett nor Rose had seen her walking up. "You're lucky it was just me, you two. If any of the old biddies on the board had overheard that, they'd be furious. This last minute catering change has them in an uproar. They thought the last caterer was perfect. They are, of course, conveniently over-looking the fact that the last caterer cancelled on us three days ago. We're lucky we could find someone so quickly."
As they mingled through the crowd and eventually took their seats, Emmett was glad Rose had been working on her "oh, how fascinating" face, because he was doing a terrible job of paying attention. His mind kept drifting back to eggplant-girl. Aubergine Girl, he mentally corrected himself. Rose did a commendable job of covering for him, but as they sat down at their table, she leaned into him and whispered furiously.
"Get it together, Cullen. I can cover for you with people who barely know you, but if you keep this space cadet act up through dinner, Esme is going to figure out that something is wrong, and God help us all then."
Nodding his agreement, Emmett turned back to his parents and vowed to really pay attention to the conversation at the table. His plan worked, for about four minutes. Then, their server arrived to drop off the first course.
All conversation at the table stopped as Emmett gasped and the server set the salad she was delivering to Rose down with a clatter. Esme and Carlisle looked between the two in confusion, while understanding dawned on Rose's face.
"Oh my God. It's her, isn't it Emmett. It's..."
"Aubergine Girl!"
Without another word, the server turned and fled, leaving a stunned table in her wake.
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"Bella, what happened? What is wrong with you?" Even in the middle of the most stressful night of her career, Angela could tell that something was definitely not okay with her best friend.
"It's him. He's here. What is he doing here? What the hell? Why is this my life?" With a groan, Bella covered her face with her hands and slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor.
"Okay, first of all, get off the floor. That can't possibly be clean. Or comfortable. Second of all, I'm going to need more information, here. There are a lot of men out there. Can you be more specific?"
"The guy from the store. With the produce. Produce Boy." Still sitting on the floor, Bella couldn't quite bring herself to look at her friend. "And now it's your big chance to really make it, and I'm in the kitchen, hiding on the floor. Oh my God, I'm a terrible friend. Can you just...if someone else takes my tables, and you put me across the room, I'll be okay, I swear. I just, I can't face him. I can't. He's in a tux Ange. I'm powerless against the tux. Don't send me back out there."
"Let me get this straight, " Angela began. "The hot guy who helped you pick out eggplant, the hot guy who caused you to show up at my shop without mozzarella or lemons, is out there? The guy who you have been staring off into space and daydreaming about for three weeks? The guy we can all thank for your sudden interest in produce? He's out there? In a tux? And you're in here, hiding on the floor? Forget ruining my big night, this is your second chance! Now get up and get back out there!"
With that, Angela jerked Bella off the floor and started brushing her off. "Here. Brady covered for you and finished serving the salads. I don't have enough servers to not send you back out, and I'll be damned if I'm listening to another second of 'He was perfect and what was I thinking, walking away?' from you. Not when your second chance is out there in a tux. GO!"
"You're a little scary when you're like this, you know?" was the only thing Bella said as she made her way back out into the ballroom. Alright Swan, you can do this. Just go out there, clear their soup course, and then you're done. You can go home and pretend this never happened.
Approaching their table again, Bella steeled herself. It's four minutes. You can survive anything for four minutes. GO!
By the time Bella returned to the kitchen to drop off the cleared salad plates, she thought she might have a handle on things. Okay, so the night started off on the wrong foot, but I think I recovered nicely. Strong work, Swan! As she turned away from the plating area, she felt a hand grab her elbow and drag her towards the corner.
"Here's the deal," Angela whisper-yelled over the commotion in the kitchen. "His name is Emmett Cullen, oldest son of Dr. and Mrs. Cullen-that would be the good looking couple at his table. Never been married, the blonde with him is apparently a family friend. He's 29, an architect, and actually hotter than you initially reported." At Bella's incredulous look, Angela shrugged. "What? I peeked my head out there and then I set out to get information. I told you, I'm not letting you screw up this second chance."
"Okay, first of all, the speed with which you can obtain personal details about a total stranger is truly frightening. Second of all, the fact that he's never been married, totally hot, and here with a "family friend" doesn't give me much hope that he's, you know, straight." Bella turned to busy herself with anything but dealing with Angela.
"Oh Bella, it's a hospital. Shows like Grey's Anatomy might be iffy on the medical details, but that stuff about the gossipping and the sleeping around and the backstabbing? Apparently fairly accurate. That information took me less than sixty seconds to obtain. And from what I heard, the three Cullen kids take turns coming to this thing with their parents every year, and this was not Emmett's year. Baby brother backed out at the last minute and your Prince Produce stepped up."
"All facts which point to him being possibly perfect, but not straight. Plus, let's not forget that I met him when he showed me how to pick out eggplant. Not exactly a checkmark under the "likes girls" column. My orders are up. Since you're not going to take pity on me and let me switch tables, I have to get back out there."
"You'll thank me for this later, Swan. Mark my words!" Angela said with a laugh as she pushed Bella towards the doors.
For the rest of the night, Bella managed to fulfill her duties as a server. Based on what she overheard as she wove her way through the tables, Angela's food was a complete success. There were no more weird moments at the Cullen table, but Bella was certain that at least half the table was dying to ask her what in the hell was going on. After she delivered their dessert course, she snuck out the back door of the kitchen to get some fresh air. She had driven in with Angela, so she couldn't bolt early, but Bella needed a few minutes of quiet, away from the happy buzz of the kitchen.
As she stared out into the inky black, Bella heard the tentative click of heels on concrete. Looking up, she came face to face with the gorgeous blonde from the Cullen table.
"Your friend from the kitchen told me I could find you out here. I'm Rosalie, and I swear, I'm not as creepy as this makes me seem. Honest. And Emmett absolutely does not know that I'm out here. It just seemed like there was something there, and I have a feeling that neither one of you is going to make the first move, so I'm nudging. That's all. Just a nudge. If I'm wrong, you can tell me, and I'll walk away, and we can all forget this ever happened."
"I...you're...he..." Bella struggled to find words, any words. Everything seemed to be getting caught in her internal filter and coming out in gibberish. Taking a deep breath, she started again. "You mean, he's not gay?" Oh, excellent work, filter. From gibberish to completely inappropriate.
Rosalie couldn't help but laugh. "No. He is decidedly not gay. Although, I'm flattered you think I would be an acceptable beard for a guy that good-looking. He's a great guy, one of the best. The only other thing I'm going to say is that if your number found its way into his possession, it wouldn't go unused. If you catch my drift. I'd better get back in there before they send out a search party. It was nice meeting you, and I really hope to see you again."
Flabbergasted, all Bella could do was stare dumbly as Rosalie walked away. When Angela came to get her to leave for the night, chattering brightly about what a success the evening was, Bella was still puzzling over how to get her number to a guest without looking like one of those girls. With a sigh and a last look towards the building, she let herself be dragged to the car.
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Two weeks later, Emmett was no more able to forget about Bella than he had been before he learned her name. Throwing his pencil across his office in disgust, he realized he hadn't actually made any headway at all on the project timeline he was supposed to be finishing up. "Head in the game, Cullen."
"You know, they say talking to yourself is the first sign of mental illness. Do I need to ask your secretary to start lacing your coffee with Xanax?" At the sound of his mother's voice, Emmett's head snapped up.
"That would only work if my secretary actually got my coffee, you know. How long have you been standing there, and what are you doing here?"
"I was in the office to pick up a contract, and I've been here long enough to know that I don't need to take your bad attitude personally. Now, why don't you take mercy on your office supplies and come join me for lunch? You can tell me all about this girl who has your head scrambled."
"Sorry, I just...wait a minute. Who told you about the girl?" Emmett's guilt at taking his bad mood out on his mother was replaced by panic.
"No one told me. I'm your mother, Emmett, I know things. Come on. I'll let you make up for your less than enthusiastic greeting with sushi." Proving that no one said no to Esme Cullen, Emmett grabbed his keys and followed her to the elevators.
To her credit, Esme waited until they had ordered to give Emmett her own version of "the mom look". When he was ten, "the mom look" could stop him dead in his tracks. He was dismayed to learn that he was just as powerless at 29. By the time the server set their lunch down in front of them, Emmett had spilled the whole sorry tale to his mom. With a glum look, he went about preparing his soy sauce.
"Do you really expect me to believe that you're just going to give up? Emmett honey, when you were nine, your little league team was down 12 points at the bottom of the 9th inning. Until the very last out, you were convinced that if you just wanted it hard enough, you guys could make a comeback. It took two mechanics, Rosalie, and four Roadside Assistance calls for you to give up on that Jeep. And you're going to let a little 'I didn't get her number' keep you from finding out how real the spark with that girl is?" Satisfied that she had said her piece, Esme focused her attention on the sushi and let Emmett stew for a bit.
"What if...I mean...it just seems like, maybe she isn't interested? She ran off the first day, and she could have given me her number at the Gala. Maybe it's time I stopped chasing after lost causes."
Dropping the piece of rainbow roll she was in the process of selecting, Esme fixed Emmett with a furious stare and pointed at him with her chopsticks. "Emmett Andrew Cullen, don't let me hear you talk like that again! You could have gone after her, you could have given her your number. For all you know, she's thinking the same thing you're thinking. Now, I just happen to have gotten the number of the caterer for the Gala. "If you're quite through feeling sorry for yourself, I might let you be the one who arranges the catering for Edward's engagement party." At Emmett's look of shock, Esme couldn't help but laugh. "I told you, darling. I'm your mother. I know things. Plus, you told Alice. When are you going to learn that if you need someone to keep your secrets, you confide in Edward?"
Before he could come up with an appropriate response, the tinkling of the door caught his attention. With stunned disbelief crossing his face, Emmett set down his chopsticks. "You know, mom, that might not be entirely necessary. Excuse me, please." With a confidence betrayed only by the slight shaking in his hands, Emmett stood up and strode across the restaurant, while Esme looked on in shock.
As he made his way across the room, Emmett couldn't quite turn off the part of his brain that was in charge of self-preservation. Danger, Will Robinson, Danger! Abort Mission! This is crazy! Stop. Shaking it off, Emmett kept going. It's like poker. Just go all in. You'll either lose your ass, or win big. Either way, at least you'll know. As he approached her table, he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and went for it.
"Okay, I know this seems crazy, but hear me out. I can't stop thinking about you. All I know about you is that your name is Bella, you work for a catering company, and I think I really want to know more. Maybe you keep running away because you're not interested, and if that's the case, say the word, and I'll go. But if that's not it, then can we just...see? That's all I'm asking for, just a chance." Unsure of what to say next, and suddenly aware that the eyes of an entire lunch crowd were on him, Emmett waited for a minute, and then turned to walk away.
"Library," came a hesitant voice from behind him. When he turned around with a quizzical look on his face, she clarified. "I work in a library. At the university. The catering thing, I was just helping out a friend." The woman sitting across from Bella grinned and waved. Bella paused just long enough to grab her purse from the chair next to her. As she rummaged through looking for something, she continued, "You're not crazy. Or, if you are, then you're not the only one." Pulling out a business card and a pen, she started writing. "We owe it to the aubergines, I think."
Taking the card from her, Emmett realized that now that he sort of had the girl, all of his bravado was gone. "Okay. Right. The aubergines. I...should let you get back to your lunch. It was nice to finally meet you, Bella who works in a library." With that, he fled back to the relative safety of his own table.
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Listening to the phone ring, Emmett tapped his pencil on the edge of his desk impatiently. "Come on. Pick up, pick up, pick up."
"Hello?"
"How long after you get a girl's number do you need to wait to use it?"
"Oh, hi Emmett. I'm good, and how are you? Phone manners, much?"
"Look man, not all of us can worry about social niceties when we're freaking out. Just help me out, here."
"Okay, okay. I'm assuming this is about the girl with the eggplants who has you so captivated?"
"Does the entire family know about this?"
"Pretty much, buddy. You told Alice, for God's sake. And mom was with you yesterday when you suddenly relocated your balls. Her words, not mine. As to your question, just call the girl. If she's one of those girls who plays games about how long to wait between phone calls and can't accept a date fewer than 72 hours in advance, then she's not right for you, okay?" Edward took a deep breath and continued. "I can't believe I'm going to say this, and I will deny it if anyone ever asks me about it but...just be yourself. No games, no pretenses, just be you."
"Right. Me. Okay. Thanks, Edward. How's things?"
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After an unproductive afternoon, Emmett gave up on his deadlines and decided to pack it in for the night. When he realized that he was too distracted by his own thoughts to focus on Call of Duty: Black Ops, he begrudgingly decided to take Edward's advice and call Bella. "Worst-case scenario, she doesn't answer and never returns the call. Well, not really. Worst-case scenario, she answers and mocks you. Oh God. Maybe Mom was on to something with that whole 'the first sign of insanity is talking to yourself' nonsense." Disgusted with himself, Emmett grabbed his phone and stalked out to his deck. Scrolling through his address book, he highlighted her name and hit "send" before he could back out.
"Hello?" Bella answered, sounding a little annoyed. The phone had rung at least six times, and Emmett belatedly hoped that he hadn't picked a bad time to call.
"Hi, Bella? This is Emmett Cullen. We met at the grocery store? I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
"Oh, Emmett! Hi. Sorry for the cranky answer. You're not interrupting. I didn't recognize your number, and I thought you were the blood donation people again."
"I can honestly say that I am not from the blood donation center," he replied with a smile. He didn't know what it was, but something about Bella put him at ease at the same time that it tied him up in knots.
"Are you sure? I wouldn't put it past them to stage an elaborate series of meetings with a handsome guy just to lure me in. I'm starting to think they're part vampire."
"You know, I think I've heard of that scam. Except they tend to send their scouts to the butcher's counter. Too much risk of running into vegetarians in the produce section. Low iron levels make for non-ideal donors, you know." As Bella laughed in reply, Emmett couldn't help but marvel at his good fortune. She said handsome, his inner voice crowed.
"A fair enough point, Produce Boy. So, since you didn't call to try to talk me into donating, what can I do for you?"
Marry me? he thought before he could stop himself. I think you might be perfect. Shaking that thought from his mind, Emmett went with his gut. "I was hoping you might agree to go out with me some night. At the very least, I'd like to see if my eggplant teachings have stuck with you. It's not every day I offer up my superhero services to pretty women in the grocery store, you know."
"Well," Bella began, and Emmett's heart sank. "I suppose it's only fair that you check to make sure that your efforts weren't in vain. You've got a deal, on one condition."
"Condition?"
"If I can demonstrate mastery of the 'Select the Perfect Aubergine' skill level, I think you should show me the secret to picking the best watermelon. One perfect aubergine does not a superhero make; I'm going to need further evidence."
"You drive a hard bargain, Miss Bella, but I am up to the challenge. Does Saturday work for you?"
"Saturday sounds perfect. Not to sound like too much of a rookie, but what does one wear for a produce picking lesson?" Bella replied, clearly digging for information about what their date would be. Had his brain been able to stop running victory laps and chanting She said yes! She said yes!, Emmett might have been astonished to realize that she had just agreed to a date without having any idea what said date would entail.
"You know, picking the perfect watermelon isn't always easy. Sometimes there's a little walking involved. And that's all the hint you're going to get, although you're welcome to try to charm more information out of me."
Laughing, Bella conceded. "Alright, alright. I'll trust you on this. So, pretty, huh?"
"Indeed. And on that note, I think I'll say goodbye for now, before I get myself into trouble," Emmett admitted. "Have a wonderful rest of your week, Aubergine Girl."
"You too, Produce Boy. And Emmett?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm really looking forward to Saturday."
"Me too, Bella. Me too."
0-0-0-0-0
Saturday morning dawned clear and bright, and Emmett realized with a sinking stomach that for all the thought he had put into the day's activities, he hadn't figured out what to wear. Then he realized that he was worrying about what to wear, and he went into full-on panic mode. Oh God, I'm turning into a girl. All those girls who wanted me to be more sensitive, and I pick now to channel my inner Emma. Sulking, he grabbed his phone and called the only person he knew who would be awake and helpful, without turning his trauma into fodder for every get together from now until eternity.
"Emmett, it's 7:30 on a Saturday morning. Unless there's some kind of emergency that I and only I can fix, I'm going to need you to hang up and call back after 10."
"Rosie, I swear on my favorite pool cue that you are the only person who can help me right now."
"Oh, this should be good. Hit me, Em. And if I decide that this emergency is just you being a freak, you'll pay in cheesecake."
"You've got a deal," Emmett answered quickly. "The thing is, I planned this date, and I don't even know if it's a good idea, but I'm going with it, because she's not a dinner and a movie type girl. I want to talk to her and see her and interact, not stare at a movie screen. So fine. But the date outfit is a dinner and a movie outfit. It is not a mini-golf and arcade outfit."
"You know, Em, the fact that you called me at the ass crack of dawn to fret about clothes does not really do much for your continued insistence that you're straight," Rosalie cracked. Secretly, she was staring at her phone in open-mouthed shock. This rambling, nervous man was not the self-confident Emmett she knew and loved. More gently, she continued "What's this really about, big guy? This isn't like you. Nothing you've done regarding this girl has been like you. Not that I'm saying the world won't like a softer side of Em, but this is a bit much."
"I don't know. I just have a feeling. I don't want to mess it up with her, Rose. I think she could be special. She is special. And I get that that's kind of a crazy psycho thing to say, so I'm trying to curb my inner caveman, here. But yeah. I'm already on my third chance. Three strikes and you're out. I can't mess this up."
Wracking her brain for a solution that would look good, be comfortable and situationally appropriate, and help Emmett get a little bit of his old bravado back, Rosalie finally settled on what she hoped was the perfect solution. "Okay, here's what you're going to do. First of all, put on a pot of coffee. While that's brewing, set out your clothes. I'm thinking dark-rinse jeans, and a button down. Wear something blue, it makes your eyes pop. For God's sake, whatever you do, do not wear sneakers, or white socks."
"Right. Dark jeans, blue button down, no white socks. That's easy. Anything else?" Now that he had a plan, Emmett seemed a little more at ease.
"Yes, actually. Wear the gift I got you for your birthday," Rosalie replied. Her tone was serious, even if her suggestion was unorthodox.
"You want me to wear "Man of Steel" briefs? On a date? We're best friends, but you telling me what underwear to wear is taking it a little too far, Rose."
"Hey, hear me out. They're like your own personal in-joke. They're ridiculous, and funny, and they imply that you're a superhero. There's no way you can wear those underwear and not feel confident. And a little extra boost of confidence never hurt anyone. Besides, it's not like Bella will be seeing them-at least not tonight. I know you, Emmett. Just trust me on this."
Taking a deep breath, Emmett couldn't help but grin at just how well his friend knew him. "Alright. I'm taking your word on this one. If some terrible fate befalls me and the whole world sees my underroos, I'm counting on you to defend my honor."
"You know I've got your back, babe. Always. Two last things, and then I have to go."
"Hit me, Coach. I can take it."
"I think chocolate raspberry, for the cheesecake. And if this girl hurts you, I'll kick her ass."
As Emmett laughed, Rosalie hung up smiling.
0-0-0-0-0
Pacing the house while she waited for Emmett to arrive, Bella debated again the wisdom of leaving a note in the kitchen. Nothing major, just a clue in case anything happened to her. Really, what did she know about this man? Realizing she had at least ten minutes before he showed up, she quickly dialed Angela's number.
"No Bella. I do not think you need to leave a note on the kitchen counter that says 'If I go missing, I was last seen with Emmett Cullen'," Angela answered, not even waiting for Bella to speak. "Seriously, you need to chill out. You also really, really need to stop watching True Crime documentaries when you can't sleep. He's legit. Just relax. You're going to have a great time, and I promise that you will not wind up in pieces in the lake like that one made for TV movie where Fred Savage kills Candace Cameron and the only evidence left behind is a gardenia."
"I know you think I'm crazy. Hell, I think I'm crazy. This never happens to me, though. Never. I never get the cute, smart, funny guy. I get the weird stoner art students, or the guys who answer phone calls in the middle of dinner, or the cross-dressers just looking for an understanding woman to help them navigate the tricky world of women's hosiery," Bella said in a rush of words. "This guy is gorgeous, and funny, and smart, and he laughs at my jokes. I'm just really nervous."
"I know, honey, but listen to me. He laughs at your jokes. He thinks you're funny, and smart, and pretty. He's not a serial killer. And no one who looks that good in a tux would choose to wear pantyhose. You're going to be fine. Take a couple of deep breaths, and relax. If nothing else, this is going to make a great story one day."
"You're right. Thank you. I'm sorry I'm such a headcase about this. Oh God. I hope what I'm wearing is okay," Bella started to panic again.
"Bella! Focus! What you're wearing is fine. Your shoes are fine. Your hair is fine. You. Are. FINE! In fact, I'm so confident about this that I am not going to make the customary an hour into the date get out of jail free call. If you need me, call me. Otherwise, put the phone on silent and I will talk to you tomorrow."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Now get off the phone and wait for the guy. God knows you don't want him getting way-laid by any of your crazy neighbors. The busy-body at the end of the block will take one look at him and try to keep him forever."
"Okay. Thanks, Ange. I owe you."
No sooner had Bella hung up and stashed her phone in her purse than she heard a knock at the door. When she got to the door, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Here we go, she thought to herself.
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Twenty minutes later, as they pulled up to their first destination, Emmett tried to sneak a sly glance in Bella's direction to gauge her reaction. He supposed he should be happy that she was looking at him, but mostly, he was embarrassed that he got caught trying to stare.
"So," he began, clearing his throat, "here we are." Conversation in the car had been light, mainly centering around the unexpectedly warm fall they were experiencing, and how this year wasn't the "next year" the Cubs had been looking for. Now that they had arrived, however, both of them seemed at a loss.
"I knew it," Bella finally said, a quick grin appearing on her face. "The whole produce savant shtick was a ruse. You have no idea how to pick out a watermelon, do you?"
"I will have you know that I can pick a mean watermelon. Watermelon, musk melon, honeydew. You name it, I can pick it. Melons are one of my specialties."
Suddenly realizing what he had said, Emmett cut himself off in horror, and tried to avert his gaze. Unfortunately, the first place he looked was down. Panicked, he tried to look anywhere but at Bella. Mortified, he settled for closing his eyes and trying to unobtrusively do one of the deep breathing techniques that Alice had taught him when she was in her yoga and crunchy granola phase. That amazing laugh that had first drawn him in in the produce section at Whole Foods pulled him out of an internal monologue that sounded an awful lot like a major league umpire bellowing "Steeeeeerike three. You're out!"
"A melon man, huh? Well, as long as you aren't hoping that I'll wow you with my stellar mini-golfing skills, I think we'll be alright."
A fresh wave of panic crashed over Emmett. He hadn't even thought about the possibility that she wouldn't enjoy this date. You are an idiot, Cullen, his inner voice scolded. A first-class idiot.
"Oh man, I'm sorry. I didn't even think, do you want...we can do something else?"
"Hey, hey," Bella answered, putting a hand on his forearm. "I love mini-golf. I'm just not any good at it. Now come on, we're wasting daylight." With that, Bella opened her car door and shot him an expectant look as she moved to get out. "What are you waiting for, hot shot. Let's go!"
Something about her enthusiasm for a game she admitted wasn't good at helped to put Emmett at ease. Crossing to the front of the car, he took hold of Bella's elbow and led her into the clubhouse.
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An hour and a half later, Emmett couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so much. After selecting the pink ball for herself, Bella quickly handed Emmett a neon green one. At his questioning look, she grinned.
"I'm just trying to save you the embarrassment of the inevitable blue ball jokes that will happen if you don't take the green. Although, the purple one does harken back to our eggplant-lesson beginnings, you don't strike me as the kind of guy who mini-golfs in lilac."
Are you there, God? It's me, Emmett. I don't know what I did to deserve this, but thank you.
What followed was, by anyone's standards, the absolute worst round of miniature golf mankind had ever seen. Three separate groups had passed them, because Emmett didn't have the heart to point out the "six strokes and you're done" rule to Bella. Mostly because she seemed to be having so much fun, but at least in part because he wasn't sure he could utter the phrase "six strokes" without making a fool of himself.
At the end of 18 holes, Emmett had a fairly respectable score of 48. Par for the course was 39. Bella's score was an abysmal 93, and the only reason she hadn't broken 100 was because Emmett had figured out after the fifth hole that she didn't notice if he shaved a few strokes off of her score. Terrible skills aside, Emmett found that Bella's carefree attitude was infectious. For the first time ever, he realized that he didn't care about the score at all. He was having a good time, and who cared if those sixth graders gave them the stink-eye when it took 16 tries for Bella to sink that little pink ball at the fifth hole?
As they headed back to the clubhouse to turn in their clubs, Emmett took a gamble and put his arm around Bella's shoulders. They had made contact during the round, of course, but this was definitely a step up from where they had been. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, he thought to himself. To his delight, Bella responded by sliding her arm around his waist.
"You know, I thought you were being modest when you said you weren't any good, Swan," Emmett teased as they exited the clubhouse and headed back to his car. "I've got to hand it to you, though. You are the worst mini-golfer on the planet."
"Hey, I did warn you," she retorted. "Besides, you should see me bowl. Let's just say that when they invented the electronic bumper guards that can go up and down for each bowler, everyone who knows me burst into applause. People are a lot more willing to be on my team now."
I'll be on any team of yours you'll take me for, you crazy, gorgeous, amazing girl.
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After miniature golf, Emmett had taken Bella to the downtown area near his house. Dinner at one of his favorite local restaurants was followed by a leisurely stroll. It might have been a little cliched, but once the sun started to set, the evening was pleasantly warm, and the more they talked, the more he realized he wasn't quite ready to call the night over. They hadn't really talked about anything too deep, but Emmett still felt like he was learning a lot about who Bella Swan was. Realizing that they had finished their tour of the three blocks to downtown, Emmett suddenly thought of the perfect way to end their date.
"I have an idea. I think the fountain has provided all of the entertainment it has for the evening. Come with me?" As he stood, he held out his hand for her.
"Oh now, I don't know about that. Scarf-wearing emo teens will always have just a little more entertainment to provide. I'm pretty sure if we sit here long enough, we'll see at least one pre-teen with Beiber hair, and I think those two kids over there are trying to out-angst each other," Bella teased. Taking his hand, she smiled. "But you're the boss tonight. Where to?"
"You'll see," he answered cryptically. Leading her to his car, they made the short trip to a homey structure just a few blocks west. Pulling into the parking lot, Emmett saw not one, but two familiar cars. Please God, he thought, let it be Vedran inside.
"What is this place?" Bella asked curiously as they crossed the parking lot. "It's really cute. And small. I am intrigued."
"One of the ladies I work with and her husband opened this place a couple of years ago. Vedran, the husband, he makes amazing frozen custard. Just...he can be a little intimidating at first. His wife, Blanka, is one of the nicest women I know, but she's a little overwhelming."
"So you're saying you brought me somewhere to be frightened and overwhelmed," Bella asked with a raised eyebrow.
"No, no. Oh God. I was just trying to warn you. Forewarned is forearmed and all. Besides, Vedran is really only intimidating until he cooks for you," Emmett answered with a nervous smile.
As they entered the tiny building, they were greeted by two cheerful voices, one booming, one lilting.
"Emmett, friend! Where have you been? You are too good for Vedran now?" This, from a man so large in stature that Emmett looked small in comparison.
"Ahhh, Emmett! Who is your friend? You must introduce us immediately. She is beautiful." A sturdy blonde woman was hastily rounding the corner and headed towards Bella and Emmett with the speed of a small tornado.
"Blanka, you are beautiful, as always." Blanka giggled and blushed in response. Emmett continued with the introductions, "This is Bella, she's a...friend of mine. Bella, this is Blanka, and her husband Vedran."
"Hello," Bella offered with a wave. "It's nice to meet you. Vedran, Emmett tells me you make the best homemade custard he's ever had, and I'm dying for a taste." Looking around the restaurant, she turned to Blanka. "I would never have expected such a gem here. You must be the decorator behind the charm."
Glowing under Bella's kind words, Blanka and Vedran were a blur of activity as they prepared a sundae worthy of visiting royalty.
"Aren't they going to ask for our order," Bella whispered to Emmett.
"Oh, that's not exactly how it works here. You flattered them, you'll get whatever they decide is the best thing they can give you. I promise you'll love it, whatever it is," Emmett replied with a laugh. The laugh died in his throat when a beaming Blanka presented him with one sundae and two spoons. Behind the counter, Vedran shrugged as if to say what can I do? Women, they have ideas.
Blanka and Vedran steadfastly refused to accept any payment for the sundae, and Emmett had a feeling that that was because Blanka knew she would be able to spy on them through the office window. Leading Bella back outside to one of the picnic tables in the garden area, Emmett couldn't help but shake his head at the comical way his friends had acted. Blanka's one driving motivation in life was making sure that the people she cared about were paired up. Vedran's greatest joy was feeding people. Emmett had probably made their entire week by bringing Bella in.
"So," Bella began once they were seated, "I hate to say it, but I think I'm too stunned by the last five minutes to tease you for bringing me into the lion's den for free dessert."
"What can I say? You didn't notice, but the guy at the mini-golf counter charged me extra before I left because he said he was going to have to retire your club. He was afraid you cursed it with your atrocious playing skills," Emmett teased.
Looking appreciatively at the sundae, Bella tried to find a way to get a ladylike bite out of it. Giving in to temptation, she hoped that the napkins she had grabbed on the way out of the restaurant would suffice.
"Oh, dear God. This is amazing," Bella exclaimed through a mouth of custard and toppings. "I have no idea what I'm eating, but it is officially the most amazing thing I have ever put in my mouth."
At that, Emmett did a double-take. "Wow. All of a sudden, my melon comment doesn't seem so bad." Laughing, he took his own bite of dessert. "Oh, wow. No, you're right. Someone needs to give that man a medal."
"I don't think a medal is going to cut it, honestly. Maybe a day in his honor? A statue? A building in his name?"
Emmett appreciated that Bella was not shy at all about digging in to the custard. There was nothing worse than buying food for a woman who then wouldn't eat it, at least as far as first date deal-breakers went.
"You know, I am an architect. I'll see what I can do on the building front," Emmett answered with a grin.
"Make sure it's a good building. No strip malls or office complexes. Like, if you ever get called on to recreate the Palace at Versailles. That should be adequate," Bella joked.
After they had eaten their fill, they sat watching the last of the season's fireflies blink lazily. It was the quietest they had been all day, but Emmett didn't feel any strong pull to try to force conversation. Just sitting with Bella and enjoying the night felt right, somehow.
"I had a really nice time today, Emmett," Bella said, interrupting the silence. "Thank you."
"Thank you for agreeing to come out. I had an amazing time. I may have to send Whole Foods a thank you letter. Do you think they'll give me the name of the farmer who grew the aubergines?" He tightened his arm around her shoulders and smiled into the night.
Laughing, Bella gave him a small shove, and then snuggled in just a little bit closer. "Well, you know it had to have been a local farmer. I'm sure that those aubergines were organic. He probably coddled them, talked to them every night. I bet he'd appreciate knowing that they were sacrificed for a good cause."
"Bella?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm going to kiss you now, unless you tell me not to."
"So far, you haven't steered me wrong today. I'm not going to pick now to start questioning you."
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