A/N Thanks for the great reviews! I love each and everyone...and i try to respond to as many as i can. I will admit i'm more likely to respond if you have question or a well thought out review. Update Soon and others are appreaciated and if it is all you have to say that is fine but those are harder for me to respond to.

I have some thoughts on the following chapter. First, i have wanted to do this since i dreamed up this fic. This little scene that totally makes sense to me but is also completely silly and off the wall. It does fit into my characters though and it is important to the plot. There are other plot points in this chapter that are important as well so please do not dismiss this chapter as pure fluff. It is, like AG says, Flangst. I will add a bit more at the bottom for some clarification.

Thanks to my beta master Starshine who gets these back to me too quickly and she needs to ignore my harassing messages. OCD for the awesome banners (please go see these on twilighted-so funny!), JDSK, DT & of course AG-my Oprah.

(oh yeah-no offense to...ummm...anyone...you will realize soon who and what i am talking about)

BPOV

On my way back to Mr. Cullen's from the post office I stopped at the little coffee shop I had begun frequenting on my lunch breaks. I maneuvered my car through the crowded street looking for a place to park near the building. I'd become nervous since the incident with Victoria about being out alone and made extra efforts to stay safe. I typically preferred to walk to the business district, since it was so close to Mr. Cullen's home, but I wasn't comfortable now.

Things were better at work but still not perfect. Mr. Cullen had stayed true to his word and attitude. His treatment toward me was slowly improving. I was showered in 'pleases' and 'thank yous', offered compliments on my work and given nothing excessively outrageous to perform.

The problem was not his effort to treat me with more respect, the problem was just him.

He truly puzzled me. He was physically so beautiful and graceful. Yesterday I found myself mesmerized by his elegant hands as he pulled a record out of its sleeve, gently cradling the edges of the black disk, careful to never touch the grooves on the top. I watched as he pulled it lightly to his face and inhaled the distinct odor of vinyl, and a small smile of contentment crossed his lips.

Yet, when I asked him what song was playing or more about the musician his body stiffened for a moment and the natural grin on his face was replaced by a more superficial one. He answered politely but it sounded robotic and forced before he hastily retreated from the room.

After finding a parking space on the street I walked toward the coffee shop. I paused for a moment at the door, noticing a sign plastered in the window. It was a photo of a girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen, dark hair, happy blue eyes and a huge smile. She was wearing a silver heart pendant on her neck that hung in the middle of her chest. Over her picture were the words MISSING-Have You Seen Me? I felt my stomach turn and I saw a flash of Victoria flitter across my eyes. I was overwhelmed with fear for this little girl, praying she had not fallen victim to someone like that. I saw at the bottom it said her name was Bree and she had been missing since April.

I shook my head, pulled the door open and walked to the counter where the waitress was waiting.

"Hi," I smiled, "I would like some tea…preferably something calming?" A wave of nausea passed over me and I forced the image of the girl on the poster out of my head.

She considered for a moment and said, "We have a really nice Chamomile, would you like that?"

I nodded and waited while she prepared my order, drumming my fingers on the counter. I couldn't get Bree's face out of my mind. I called out, "What do you know about that sign in the window? The missing girl?"

She turned and I saw the concern in her eyes. "Her mother came by and put that in the window. Apparently she went missing one night when she was out with some friends at the movies. She left her seat to go get something from the concession stand and never returned. The police think she ran away but her mother is convinced something happened to her."

"Oh," I said lamely, "That's really sad. I hope they find her."

The girl nodded and pushed my cup of tea towards me. "Did you just move around here or something? I've noticed you coming in fairly often."

"No I don't live around here, but I took a job in the neighborhood a couple of weeks ago." I told her.

"Oh really? Where?" she asked as she rang up my purchase on the cash register.

"I'm working for Mr. Cullen as his personal assistant. I don't know if you know him. He doesn't go out much." I explained and took a sip of my drink.

"Edward Cullen? Sex hair? Jaw that could cut glass? Wickedly aloof? Man who makes my uterus ache at the sight of him?" she laughed and said, "That Edward Cullen?"

I joined in her laughter because in many ways she was exactly right, although I wasn't sure about the uterus part. "So you do know him I guess."

"He comes in a couple of times a week, orders the same thing, smiles at me, and heads to his favorite table outside. I've dropped hints a couple of times trying to let him know I was available but," she signed wistfully, "he doesn't seem interested."

I was shocked. I looked at the girl in front of me. She was pretty, with long black hair, smooth brown skin, and legs you could climb. If we were in LA or New York I would think she was an actress or model. "Really? He is a little socially awkward, maybe he just didn't notice you were flirting." I reasoned.

"No, I was more than obvious. Not to sound egotistical, but I've come up with another theory." She said, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

Fascinated by her thoughts, I said, "A theory-tell me more."

She laughed again and leaned towards me as if telling me a secret, "It's quite simple. Any man that good looking, that rich, and that single who can resist this," and she pointed to her chest, snugly wrapped in a tight black t-shirt with the name of the shop on it, "is playing for the other team."

"You think he's gay?" I asked incredulously.

She nodded confidently back, a smirk on her face.

I flashed for a moment to Mr. Cullen, holding a trash can full of broken furniture, with the tall gorgeous blond behind him on the stairs coming down from his private rooms. I could almost envision it, the two of them behind closed doors, standing close together, reveling in one another's tall, muscular beauty. I swallowed hard at the thought.

It made perfect sense.

All of his odd behaviors and quirks could be explained by this simple fact. He had a huge secret he was keeping and this could make anyone tense and stressed. Add a high profile life to the senario and it made things even more complicated.

I returned the smirk and we laughed for a moment about lack of available attractive men and the ageold wisdom that the good ones are taken or are gay. I paid for my tea and I gave her a final wave and headed out the door.

Xxx

EPOV

"Yes Alice. She's fine."

Alice. She had called me twice a day for the last week, harassing me about Isabella, but with no solid details.

"No, I can't see her at this very moment, but it is sunny outside so I thought it was a safe day to send her to the post office without fear of another attack." I slapped my hand over my face, trying to remain calm. This was the reason I didn't live at home any longer. I needed my space and people out of my head and my future.

I decided to be proactive. "Have you had another vision? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

"No? Then let it go. Call me when you have something important to share." It was low, but necessary.

I sighed and said, "I miss you too. Yes, please tell them I miss them as well."

I snapped my phone shut and continued to look though the files I'd stored in the third floor attic. The only entrance to the attic was through my private study. I kept huge filing cabinets up here for old newspapers and other information on the 'cases' I worked. This was also where I kept my piano, which was currently shoved back against the wall and covered by a huge cloth. It was just another reminder of the life I gave up.

I went back six months and began looking for any weird incidents I may have over looked the first time. Anything that sounded like the altercation between Isabella and Victoria. I'd only searched at that time for information concerning the ritualistic murders but nothing else. I laid the papers out on the floor and began the tedious process of tagging anything of interest.

With different colored post-its I marked each event I found even remotely suspicious including, but not limited to, vandalism, muggings, or abductions. Halfway though the March papers I realized I'd run out of stickers and went downstairs to the supply closet in the kitchen.

As I approached the second floor stairs I braced myself for the onslaught of Isabella's fragrant scent and presence. I'd heard the garage door open moments before and I knew she was home. I arranged my face into what others considered appropriate and I walked into the kitchen.

"Good afternoon Isabella," I said and I watched her reach up, attempting to get a coffee mug off the top shelf.

"Hi," she grunted, straining to reach on the tip of her toes.

I processed the moment, watching her struggle with the height and with a sudden flare of irritation at myself I said, "Let me get that for you," and easily plucked the cup off the shelf and placed it on the counter.

It was the small gestures that stumped me every time. Simple things like holding the door, allowing the person to walk ahead of me, or offering to carry in the boxes and bags from the car. Things I hadn't considered in many years. It made me question how other humans felt about my interactions.

I walked over to the storage closet and rummaged around, quickly finding the notes I needed, due to Isabella's excellent organizational skills. I was prepared to turn around and tell her this when I noticed out of the corner of my eye that she was intently watching me.

Hey eyes were questioning, tightened at the corners, and I felt them linger. Her interest excited me because no one ever paid me much notice. When they did I knew what they were thinking, of course. Women were impressed by my appearance and men were in awe of my intimidating nature. Everything about me drew people in for a moment but then, just as quickly, those same qualities made them uncomfortable.

Isabella stood behind me, her heart rate even and breathing normal, inspecting me.

Again, I had no clue what she was thinking and the thought of that was thrilling.

I turned finally and faced her, noticing a light pink tint to rush up her neck.

"Thank you for organizing the closet so well. I found just what I needed." I held up the pad of hot pink notes.

"You're welcome," she said, the same quizzical look on her face as before.

"I'm going to be upstairs and would prefer not to be disturbed. If you need me call my cell, okay?" I said to her scrutinizing gaze. I shifted my feet, feeling slightly uncomfortable, unable to leave.

We stood in the kitchen, Isabella and I, in a sort of tense stand off until she turned her back to me and hunched her shoulders while she stirred her cup of tea. I took a step backwards, ready to leave the room whe she spoke suddenly and stated in a slightly shaky voice, "I know what you are."

My still heart dropped into my ancient stomach with absolute dread and horror. She knew? These were the words of my deepest fears. My mouth became dry and I had to force myself to breathe in order to appear normal.

I steadied my voice and asked, "What I am?"

The sound of her metal spoon, tracing the edge of her cup, was the only noise in the room before she said, "You're impossibly neat and tidy."

Okay. This was true but hardly an identifiable trait of being a vampire. I braced myself for more.

Her heart was beating like a hummingbird's wings and I could almost feel the heat rolling off her body, signaling her embarrassment. Only this silly woman would be embarrassed as she destroyed my life. I listened as she inhaled sharply and said, "You clearly work out. A lot. Your body is amazing."

She thought I looked amazing. A smug grin crept across my face before I shook it off, wondering for the millionth time what thoughts were running though her head. I was aware women found me attractive, and to hear Isabella say those words brought about a rush of feelings I wasn't used to, but was this really important to say right now?

"Your skin is flawless, unblemished. Do you have it man-scaped?" she asked, interrupting my thoughts and I watched her turn slightly, her deep brown eyes analyzed my face.

I shook my head silently, afraid to speak. I had no idea what this 'man-scaping' thing was but I knew I didn't have it.

"Huh," she considered and turned back to the counter, her long hair swaying a bit as she took a sip of her tea. "Your hair is perfect and you have more clothes than Paris Hilton."

The uneasy knot in my stomach was turning into one of confusion. Paris Hilton? Did Isabella think she was a vampire too?

She continued, rambling now, "Sometimes you speak like you've never been around a woman, and you never have company, and the only time you did it was a man. Who coincidentally was also unbelievably gorgeous."

What? I literally was unable to follow her train of thought. What man was she talking about? I searched my memory and came up with the only visitor we'd had.

Jasper.

She stilled, her palms flat on the counter. When she spoke it was low and with conviction, "Like I said, I know what you are."

Here it comes. Images of what would come flashed in my mind. Would she run screaming? Would I have to kill her? In eighty years I'd never had a moment that came down like this.

I forced myself to breath normally, like a human would, and mustered up the courage to lay it all on the table. I had to know if she knew. "Say it." I ordered, panic laced the words as they left my mouth.

She hesitated.

"Say it" I demanded, "Out loud."

Isabella spun around and looked me in the eye. The wrong emotion was written across her face. Instead of fear she looked…supportive? "You're gay," She said in a clear strong voice.

I was stuck in the moment, hands clenched, prepared for exposure but I heard her words echo in my ears.

Gay?

"I, um…, what?" I stumbled over my words. I never stumbled over my words. Everything about this woman completely bewildered me. She reduced me to a bumbling idiot.

Apparently a gay bumbling idiot.

She took a step forward, bringing a fresh wave of her scent towards me, the excruciating aroma of flowers filling my senses. Her normally pale cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. Her eyes were shining and her lips were puffed out with satisfaction, having 'outed' me.

I'd never found her more attractive.

"You're gay." She said again, saying the words slowly. "It's okay. I totally support you and your decisions. Well, not decisions since I feel we are all born one way or another, but regardless, I think it's great."

She thinks it great that I'm gay. I suppose this is a preferred alternative to me being a blood sucking monster.

She was still talking and I picked her up mid sentence, "…and you know, not to be stereotypical or anything but you really do have an enormous amount of clothing for a straight guy. Not to mention the fact the girl at the coffee shop, the really cute one? She told me she has never seen you with a woman either. And that she has slipped you her number more than once only to find it still on the table when she cleaned up. I mean, she is really pretty. Come on, you're young, single, incredibly gorgeous, rich, successful. You," she stepped closer and jabbed a finger in my chest, "are totally gay."

The minute her warm fingertip made contact with my chest, even through my clothing, I was overcome with emotions.

I was definitely perplexed. People thought I was gay? The girl at the coffee shop was telling Isabella theories about my sexual preferences? Once I pushed he confusion aside I realized I was more than a little bit amused, not to mention the fact the spot on my chest felt like I had been seared by a hot poker. The entire situation was so preposterous and her assumptions so off base I didn't even know how to feel about it.

She withdrew the tip of her finger and I instantly missed it. I absently rubbed the spot with my thumb trying to feel the sensation again.

She stepped back and picked up her tea and said, "don't worry though, I won't tell anyone. It is your decision when you want the world to know." She smiled and winked at me on the way back to her desk in the other room.

I stood for a moment, jaw ajar, fighting the urge to tell her otherwise. As ridiculous as it sounded this was possibly the best mistake she could make. My real secret, that I was a eternally frozen seventeen year old vampire who kept up a charade of normalcy by posing as the CEO of a multi-million dollar corporation, was beyond horrific. Add on the fact I had a side job of fighting crime and tracking bad guys during my long, endless nights, and things became absurd. The only thing more absurd was that I was currently battling conflicting desires of hunger and lust over the most fragile girl I've ever encountered.

I ran my hands up my face and fisted them in my hair. I wasn't sure when my life had turned into an epically bad horror film, but clearly it had. Oh wait. I did know. It was the day Isabella Swan entered into my life. That was the cosmic fate that now added the term 'gay' in front of Vampire CEO Crime Fighter.

As much as it pained me, instead of denying her theory I quickly decided I was going to remain non-committal. If my being gay explained my odd behaviors or physical appearance then I could live with her not knowing the truth. It gave me a bit of freedom from her scrutiny and it also put up a barrier to keep me from her. To force me away from the feelings and emotions that had been building since the day she walked into my home. It was all just one more lie in my elaborate charade but I needed her to stay close to me while maintaining the image I had crafted. If this meant from now on, in my home, Edward Cullen was gay, then so be it.

I snuck one last look at Isabella at her desk, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, reading emails on her computer before I climbed the stairs. Watching her sitting there feeling safe and content for that one moment made me realize I had bigger things to focus on and I went upstairs to get started.

A/N

Good? Bad? Totally ridiculous? Jumped the shark? Sorry if this is so. I loved the movie. I saw it six times. I have a problem (as outlined in my article on the blog) but really this is so funny to me and makes so much sense. Bella is confused by Edward and his behavior and she is trying to make it make sense. Being a vampire is the farthest thing from her mind. I mean, who would think this? So her mind has come up with the most valid excuse she could imagine...that Edward is gay. Now, please note that this is not going to be an ongoing thing. It will be resolved quickly but it also gives B/E an opportunity to kind of even out. Become more comfortable, she thinks she knows his secret and he thinks his real secret is safe AND it makes her even more off limits in order to keep up his charade. I suspect this will be harder than he thinks...

I hope i didn't lose any of you. I have gained some awesome readers this last chapter, some really great authors who i respect so much have dropped me reviews and it is just so affirming. thank you all. Now...i will go off and hide and wait for your response~angel