Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or anything Twilight related. Honestly. I don't even own the DVDs.

Similarly, the title really belongs to E.M. Forster. My story is in no way related to his story of the same name.

Working at a boutique literary agency in Beverly Hills has its advantages. For starters, my office is housed in a beautiful, old artist's building on the corner of Rodeo Drive. The world's finest shopping is footsteps away. Not that I can afford it.

My job has also made me well connected. I've hobnobbed at industry functions with Hollywood A-listers and if I haven't met an actor or actress personally, I probably know their agent. In fact, I was probably the first person to read the script that their agent is telling them will win them an Oscar.

On the flip side, I'm only an assistant, which means that my Devil Wears Prada-style tyrant of a boss is the agent that will get thanked in that screenwriter's Oscar acceptance speech. I will be asked to make said boss a sandwich the next day.

I admit these advantages were lovely considering I was a girl hoping to break into the screenwriting business myself. The best advantage, however, was my view of the hall in my office building.

Aro Volturi & Associates was housed in three tiny adjacent offices on the second floor of the three-floor building. The first floor was home to a few retail shops and restaurants. The tiny office where Kate, Garrett and I worked was directly across the hall from Aro's office, but he always kept his door shut. Our lone editor, Jane, had an office next door to us. I'd only ever seen her twice in the year I'd been working here.

I didn't know what other businesses held offices on our floor, but I did know that a small but successful entertainment law firm took up the entire third floor. I knew this because to get to their office they had to walk all the way down the long hallway in front of us.

At first, hearing the constant click of well-shined shoes on the tile was irritating. But one day the click click click of Italian loafers carried with it the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen. He was on his phone the first time I noticed him and his laugh resonated down the hall, which was the only reason I had looked up from the front desk. Ours was the only office on the floor that ever had the door open and he happened to glance in at the same time I glanced out. Acknowledging me with a slight quirk of his lips he continued on with his phone conversation as if the entire world we lived in hadn't just flipped its axis. Okay, that might be a bit of an exaggeration. But just that one, small smile was enough to etch the man's face into my long-term memory.

The next day Kate and I huddled by the door, much to Garrett's annoyance, pretending to alphabetize client files. Around the same time as the day before he walked by again, acknowledging us both with a wide smile. Three months later and this was part of our daily routine. There were days that I swore I lived only to see that glimpse of his finger-teased hair and grayish green eyes.

Today was one of those days.

"Bella!" Aro's voice barked at me from the doorway. Kate was manning the front desk at the moment and I saw her visibly shrink down, hoping to avoid attention when Aro was obviously in a snit. "I told you I want three different examples of the correct way to do coverage. They can't all be from the same script and why didn't you include any of your own? I need them now."

He tossed the small stack of papers I'd given him twenty minutes ago on the desk in front of me and stormed back to his office, closing the door behind him.

I shot a look at Kate, "That's funny, all I heard the first time he asked was, 'Bella, give me sample coverage.'"

Kate snorted, knowing I was right. Aro had never given explicit instructions a day in his life. Most of the time he expected us to be able to read his mind. And then when we couldn't (gasp!), he would snap and throw a hissy fit over the fact that we couldn't do anything right the first time.

I grumbled as I pored over dozens of the three-inch binders we had filled with coverage. Every script we read (which was our main job, despite all the evidence that we were more personal assistants to his majesty than anything else) had to have coverage written for it. Even if the script was so god-awful that we couldn't stomach anything past three pages, we had to write up coverage explaining why it was so awful that we only read three pages. Essentially, coverage was like a book report, but for scripts and manuscripts. We wrote a summary of the story, our opinion on the story and, if it was really good, prospective actors we would like to see in the parts.

Despite Aro's cantankerous nature, he really did value our opinions. Well, at least he valued mine and Garrett's. For some reason he couldn't stand Kate. It didn't make sense to any of us. Her coverage was as good as ours, but Aro was Aro and his opinion, once formed, was impossible to change (he was like Mr. Darcy, except you never fell in love with him). I was lucky that, for whatever reason, he loved me.

I made my way across the hall with three new examples of coverage in hand, including one of my own. Aro gave me a wide smile as I set them on his desk. I rolled my eyes as I closed his door behind me. The man had more mood swings than a pregnant woman.

I was so preoccupied with my annoyance that I failed to register the familiar staccato footsteps resonating down the hall. Spinning to head back into my office I spun smack dab into a crisp Prada suit. My face was shoulder level with the man and it was just right to get a significant whiff of his cologne. Cedar and spice and oh so nice.

Hands gripped my shoulders to steady me and I found myself looking into the eyes of the jade-eyed boy I ogled everyday. Realizing what a klutz he must have thought me I turned fifty shades of red.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "I, um, didn't see you."

He smirked, "It's okay. I should have been paying better attention."

We stood in awkward silence for a moment and I pretended not to be enthralled by his square jaw and pouty lips. Kate always mocked me, but I was a mouth girl through and through. Pretty eyes were nice and a cute ass was a bonus, but a kissable mouth? That was vital. And this man's mouth was obviously created just to make me lose my mind.

Eventually I gathered myself and gestured to the office behind him, "Well, uh, I'm just there, so…"

"Oh! Right." He scratched at the back of his neck as he stepped aside, gesturing me to my office with an outstretched arm.

I gave him a small smile as I moved past him and he turned to continue down the hall. He only made it two steps before he swung around again.

I was standing in the same spot he'd left me because I had been lingering in hopes of catching a glimpse of his ass as he walked away (okay, so I might be an ass girl, too. Sue me. That way I can hire Mr. Kissable Lips as my lawyer).

"I'm Edward," he blurted out and then blushed at his outburst.

I smirked, hoping a little swagger would draw attention away from the fact that I was blushing at my earlier thoughts about his ass, "Bella."

"Maybe I'll see you around."

I nodded, "Probably tomorrow." I gestured back to my office, acknowledging the fact that we 'saw' each other every day.

He scratched at the back of his neck again, "Right."

He looked like he wanted to say more but instead spun on his heel and continued down the hall. And indeed his ass was very cute.