This is where it gets into the different POVs. While this is an Emmett/Alice, I got a bit carried away with Rosalie's POV, and now I'm considering writing a story all about her. Thoughts? Well, I don't own anything you recognize, and please review!

Alice's POV

The walk Emmett and I went on was highly uneventful. We walked all over campus, then gave up on finding something to do. We ended up sitting in the commons area of Rowan Hall, watching reruns of The Nanny on TV Land. What a lovely way to start a friendship (though if I had my way, trust me, we'd be more than friends. Call it a woman's intuition, but I just got a vibe from Emmett that made me drawn to him, and it didn't hurt that he was totally gorgeous). After the third episode in a row, we decided to go upstairs and see if Bella and Jasper were done unpacking yet. What we found, though, made our afternoon.

Jasper and Bella sat on the edge of Bella's bed, kissing lightly. They jerked apart when they saw Emmett and I, grinning like idiots at the spectacle.

"Not that it's any of your business, but we actually did unpack," Jasper said smoothly, unperturbed that we ruined his make-out session. "We just found a better way to pass the time. It's been a while since we had alone time."

Bella blushed and smacked his chest lightly. "Jasper! What he means is that we haven't seen each other in a while, and we had a lot to catch up on. Damn, that came out wrong… Well, you know what I mean."

I giggled nervously. "Well… We'll leave you two to it, I guess. C'mon, Emmett, let's go…somewhere else."

Bella's POV

He was actually here. The guy I'd been pining for since I figured out what dating was. And kissing. And other stuff. (Dirty minded people, I meant feelings!)

"Bella," Jasper said softly, grinning at me. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Me too," I said, grinning back.

We were currently putting my clothing up and talking. About things. Things we'd been talking about since we were twelve. Things we couldn't act on before. Things we'd felt for one another, and things we agreed couldn't be acted on until we had established a solid foundation and pattern to our relationship.

"Do you still like me?" Jasper asked, looking at me with that deep, brooding, hungry look that made my insides turn to mush. "You do still like me, right? I still like you. A lot…"

"I've always liked you," I said passively, shoving a bunch of my 'unmentionables' into one of my personal drawers.

Jasper was suddenly right behind me, all but breathing down my neck. "You know what I mean. Do you still like me in that specific way that I like you?" His voice was airy, and his hands rested on my hips. "That way you said you liked me when you kissed me last summer, the night before we had to go home, the night of the end-of-summer party."

I shoved the drawer closed and turned around to look Jasper in the eye. "I've always liked you."

His lips were on me before I was prepared, devouring my own. He didn't give me time to properly respond, and I didn't care. Jasper and I were emotional beings, and we could have a conversation with no words. Our actions and expressions spoke for themselves, and right now, his actions were screaming at me. When he pulled back -quite abruptly- we shared a small smile.

"Sorry. I've wanted to do that since I saw you this afternoon. I've thought about you a lot," Jasper said, winding his arms around me and pulling me close.

I giggled. "I've wanted you to do that since I met you."

Jasper led us to my bed, where we sat down -still in our embrace- and shared auras. "Well, we have some time to make up for, don't we?"

We kissed and kissed and kissed and kissed…

It was a long time before we had any distractions, and when those distractions appeared in the form of a few of our roommates, Jasper got rid of them. We made up for lost time and more with simple touches of our lips, and that was all that needed to be done. We'd passed formalities, we'd kept in touch through E-mail, and we'd gone a sufficient time before 'getting a room', per se.

This year was going to be awesome.

Rosalie's POV

Edward was oblivious. As always.

"Ed, what do you think?" I asked, twirling a bit. "I've grown six inches since seventh grade. You don't think I'm too tall, do you?"

He didn't even give me a glance. "Of course not. You're shorter than me."

"You're five ten, though, aren't you? Something like that, anyway."

"Eh, six feet," he said, getting distracted by the pictures on the wall. "Hey, do you remember this?"

He was pointing to a picture of us (well, us and a few different people) onstage for the big concert at the end of sixth grade. Edward and I were posing at the piano. He sat on the bench while I lay across the top like a model, holding my bejeweled microphone delicately in my fingers. Several others were posed with their instruments and props, but at the moment, I felt like the star of the show, and I totally owned the picture in my bejeweled cocktail dress (or as close to a cocktail dress as they'd allow a twelve year old to wear, no matter how mature she looked).

"I remember," I said, grinning. "Wow, we were so little."

"You had braces."

Damn it. Of course he remembers the single physical flaw I've ever had.

"And a lisp."

He wanted to be slapped.

"It was cute."

Then again… "Cute? Well, maybe then. Now it's just a bad memory of the single physical flaw I've ever had."

Edward chuckled and rolled his eyes. "You're too worried about your looks."

I scoffed. "Well, excuse me! People don't exactly find my personality endearing."

Another eye-roll from Edward.

"You do know you're eyes are gonna get stuck like that one day; then no one but Psycho Stanley will want you," I said, crossing my arms and drifting over to the baby grand in the center of the room; the same baby grand where the picture was taken. "And you won't be able to read music."

Edward followed me and slid onto the bench, stretched his fingers, then began a series of complicated chords and rhythms. "I think I could pull a Ray Charles. I've got the talent."

I found my own eyes rolling. "You say I'm narcissistic."

He began to play something familiar. "You are narcissistic, Rosie. You always have been. It's your shield against the rest of the world. You're beautiful and you know it, so you use that knowledge to intimidate and control others."

"Psychology much?" Not that he was wrong. I used my beauty to get what I wanted. I always had. Except the one thing I wanted most in the world…

"I know you and I know how and why you do the things you do," he said simply, playing a little louder. "Like how I know Alice and how I'm able to help her when she gets scared and upset."

And cue groan. Being compared to his sister? He was the most oblivious person I'd ever met. "Edward, you know it's a really bad idea to compare girls that aren't your sister to your sister, right? Some girls would take that the wrong way."

"Well, what if I wanted them to take it as 'I think of you as a sister'?" he asked, looking perturbed.

"They'd be pissed off if they thought of you as more than a brother, that's for sure." I knew the feeling. I also knew the feeling of having my heart broken time and time again, and no one even realizing it, just like right now.

My infatuation with Edward Cullen had begun as an innocent crush, but escalated to a point of no return. He was the object of my fantasies and dreams. He was something more than my best friend's brother; he was my perfect match. If only he knew…

"Rose, do you still sing?" His perfection was annoying. He remembered such a small, hidden detail about me. "I know you did the stuff in choir in middle school, but have you sung anymore since?"

"To my shower head."

He began to play even louder still.

"What the heck are you even-" I began to round on him, then I recognized the tune. "Oh my gosh…"

He grinned. "I remember that you liked this song. Do you still?"

I nodded, mouthing the words, unable to make a sound anymore. I don't mind spending everyday out on your corner in the pouring rain. Look for the girl with the broken smile and ask her if she wants to stay a while. The song was what I always imagined my prince charming would sing to me. I felt like a reflection of the broken girl he sang about, everyday of my life. "I love it."

"I don't really see why," Edward said contemplatively. "It's a bit depressing, if you ask me."

"His perfect match is a woman who hides behind a façade. He wants to reveal her true brokenness and make her feel the love she deserves."

Edward continued playing, oblivious to the tears building in my eyes. "Why would he? If she can't be honest enough to show her simplest emotion, how the hell is she supposed to be this 'perfect match' for the guy? He wouldn't be able to trust her. He'd always be wondering about the slightest changes in her expression."

"Poetic justice," I said simply.

"How is that poetic justice?"

I took a shaky breath before turning away and beginning to drift to the exit. "The beautiful people are the ones who hide the dirty little secrets when no one wants to look past the smiles on their faces."

"There's a difference between dirty little secrets and hiding how you feel just to find the one who's worth showing your emotions."

"It's not about finding the one who's worth showing your emotions; it's about having someone care enough to dig deeper. He wants to be that person for some lucky girl."

Edward continued playing and dwelled on this. "Well, I think he needs to think about himself a little. If he doesn't do anything but worry about some girl he's not going to be able to be himself, and all he's gonna do is waste his time."

"Well what if he wants to worry about this girl?"

"Then he's absurd." And my heart broke. Of course he didn't think about love the same way I did. He'd always been loved, all his life.

I turned and glared at the still oblivious boy then snapped, "No, he's really not."

I didn't give him a chance to respond before I turned and breezed out of the music department. I had no target, but I just needed to find somewhere to hide before the tears spilt over. As always.

A/N: Review, please, and hopefully I'll have a post within the next few weeks, but no sooner than next Monday, sorry.

~Sidney