A/N: Hello wonderful readers! runaway xo here with her first All Human story! Woo! I'm actually trying to slowly tear myself away from writing solely about vampires. I'm trying to learn how to write about other things. Sorry to fans of mine that choose not to read Human Twilight stories. Those kind of opionions are asked to be kept to yourselves however. I will keep writing vampire stuff, though, I'm not tearing myself completely away. (I could never do that.)

I hope you like my first All Human attempt and don't bash me too bad!

Enjoy :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight nor any of the movies mentioned in this one-shot.

Yes, this IS a one-shot, by the way.


(Bella POV)

My weight shifted uneasily – toes testing each step. I clung to the sleek wooden banister, in fear. One wrong slip of my foot could possibly send the world into turmoil. I swallowed thickly, gritting my teeth in anticipation.


My heart lurched in my chest and I automatically froze.

A clock ticked in the distance, but other then that, my heart was the only thing disrupting the silence. Though the profound beating alone seemed loud enough to wake up an entire town, the sleeping child was unaffected.

I exhaled slowly – afraid to breathe too loudly – and crept down the rest of the stairs, refusing to relax my tense muscles until I reached the landing.

When I reached desired land, I smiled and sighed, "Hallelujah."

Tonight had been hell, right dab smack in the middle of heaven. It made sense though. The kid I was babysitting was spoiled and the evidence was painfully obvious. Shiny toys and small battery powered vehicles littered the ground as I stumbled furiously into the living room. I despairingly ignored the small cuts and indentations the trinkets were making to the bottoms of my feet. I had no intention to pick the toys up, nor did I have any intention of babysitting the little devil ever again.


My plan to crash on the family's large lush velvet couch was looking better and better as I flickered off the light switches that didn't need to be on – though they had probably never been turned off, what, with the families endless supply of cash to pay the electric bill, there was no need to conserve energy – and eyed their vast selection of movies.

Something, however, caught my eye other than the movies, and I stopped to look at my reflection that was staring back at me through finger-print-covered sliding glass doors.

I grimaced as I examined my tousled hair that had been pulled and tugged on by tiny slimy hands. My hand reached up reflexively to touch the small scrape on the side of my nose, courtesy of flying race cars. Red stained my white shirt in various blobs, a decoration that would forever remind me of the great fruit punch accident.

Did I mention I'm never babysitting this kid ever again?

I rolled my eyes tiredly as my finger flicked off the light switch, bathing the room in darkness. The reflection on the sliding glass door was now a looking glass, displaying a perfectly kept backyard, complete with a pool, water slide, hot tub, and a tree house that put George of the Jungle's home to shame.

I was grimacing at the scene, when abruptly, something in the corner of the glass moved slightly, and my frown evened into a tight frightened line.

My eyes penetrated into the right corner of the glass, quickly noticing a color that didn't quite fit with the rest of the back yard – which was composed of greens and grays. It was a strange auburn color, almost brick-like, but not as dull.

My mind was mulling over the possibilities – mostly in an attempt to soothe myself… a strangely shaped flower pot perhaps – when suddenly, the bizarrely colored object moved. And then, the color changed. I could still see the auburn, but now…

I couldn't quite finish my thought. I froze. I was positive that my heart was beating sturdily but I couldn't seem to locate it in my chest.

It was a face. There was someone outside the house I was babysitting. I could feel the cold sweat permeate through the back of my neck and I swallowed hard, trying to thick logically.

The person wasn't moving (much) so he probably wasn't conscious – hurt or sleeping most likely – so he didn't pose much of a threat. The sliding glass door and every other door in the house was locked, so there was no way to get in (without force). My Dad is the Chief of the Forks Police Station, so an entire police squad as well as many powerful weapons could be here with one phone call home. (Unless the guy wakes up before they can get here.)

I shivered and tried to focus on more optimistic thoughts.

To further relax myself, I studied the face in the looking glass. I started at the auburn colored part – which I had discovered was the man's hair, and considered how messy it was. Maybe he had gotten into a raging fistfight and crawled here? That would explain the chaotic bronze colored strands.

Beneath the untidy hair was the smooth expanse of his forehead. His skin was deathly pale (so maybe he was dead, and that one movement that I had seen had been his last) and his eyelids were a lavender color, closed with the binding of long black lashes. Beneath all of that, his nose was perfectly angled – pale just like the rest of him – and his lips were light pink – a few shades darker then his skin – and parted slightly.

I frowned at the fact that his skin seemed flawless. That ruled out my fist-fight-scenario.

It began to seem more likely that he was just sleeping. Maybe he had even sleep walked here. Conceivably, my panic was for nothing.

And then the phone rang.

I gasped and my heart contracted painfully. However, after I realized it was just the telephone, I scowled at my own fear. I was being ridiculous.

Then I remembered the kid. If that ringing wakes him up, I'm done for. I scrambled towards the kitchen and scooped the phone off the holder before it could ring a third time.

"Hello?" I asked breathlessly.

"Bella?! Hi! It's Mrs. Draft!"

I winced as she screamed over the background music.


"I'm just checking up! Making sure everything alright over there! Is Brian in bed?!"

"Everything's fine Mrs. Draft," I lied, "Brian's sound asleep."

"Oh! Good, good! Well, Mr. Draft and I plan to stay out for a few more hours, is that alright with you dear?!"

"Of course," I lied again.

"Oh, thank you, Bella! We'll see you soon!"

The other end suddenly quieted. I sighed as I hung up the phone and pressed my forehead against the cool granite counter top.

I don't know why I didn't tell Mrs. Draft about the boy outside. Perhaps I didn't want to worry her? Or more likely, I didn't want to admit that I was afraid.

And I wasn't afraid.

He sleep walked here. That's the only logical answer.

I breathed in deeply and with my new found willpower, I marched into the living room and to the sliding glass door.

He was still there, obviously – though I had half been expecting him to not be – but he had moved again. His bronze hair was facing the glass; the strangely shaped flower pot.

I didn't think twice before pushing the door side.

The sound of the two glass doors vibrating against one another as I slide the first one home was enough to send my heart into yet another frenzy. I wanted to believe that I didn't know why I was acting like this, but I did. I was thoroughly terrified. The loud crashing of the door should have been enough to wake up the man. Maybe he was "playing dead",like dogs do. Maybe he would pop up at any second and produce a gun or a knife.

My head spun sickeningly. I teetered on the edge between closing the door and calling the police, or risking my life, trying to figure out what was going on. But I knew the answer before I even let myself mull over it. I was always too curious.

Was it so ironic that curiosity killed the cat?

My next sequence of action was unplanned and most likely foolish. I stepped quickly over the body and swung my foot back, letting it thrust into the man's side.

Yes… most definitely stupid.

The man's face distorted immediately and he rolled over onto his back. "Agh," he groaned, wrapping his arms across his mid-section. "What the hell Emmett?" He muttered, wincing before opening his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded after a moment. His eyes had caught me off guard. They were bright emerald.

The gemstones that were his eyes widened as he appraised me.

"Where am I?" He wondered, taking his arm away from his mid-section to run a hand through the chaotic strands of his hair. I hadn't realized it before when he had been groaning but his voice was soft, even in his obvious panic, the sound was soothing.

Another thing I had failed to notice was his age. It was apparent that he was not the "man" I had been referring to him as. His body was lanky and wiry, the body of a teenage boy. It was probable that he was my age – maybe a year or two older.

"Who are you?" He asked, pulling me out of my observations.

"Me? Who the hell are you?!" I squeaked.

The boy sighed and looked at his surroundings before placing his hand on the cement, and hoisting himself up. By the time he was standing and looking down at me – though the height difference worried me for a moment – I was ready. I had my hands out in fists in front of me, one leg in front of the other, and my knees bent. I had thrust my long brown hair behind my ears. Nothing was going to distract me.

His face was dubious as he assessed my position. It took him a moment to meet my eyes, but when he did, he put his hands up in front of him as if surrendering. He was smiling, and I growled lowly.

"Hey, hey, hey" he laughed, "None of that."

I narrowed my eyes.

"I know where I am now. See that house over there," he pointed over my shoulder, "I live there."

I didn't look and he found humor in that somehow.

"Are you babysitting Brian?" He asked politely in that soothing voice of his, dropping his hands.

I nodded once quickly.

He smiled strangely, it was almost crooked. "Little terror isn't he?"

"Who are you?" I insisted.

The boy grinned. "I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself," he extended his large pale hand, "I'm Edward Cullen. And you are…"

I looked back and forth between his hand and his face. What if he was lying to me? He didn't seem that surprised to have woken up in his neighbors back yard. Maybe this was a reoccurring thing. He seemed nice enough… I suppose.

I kept my eyes narrowed, though, as I slowly uncurled my fingers from the fists and cautiously placed my hand beside his. "Bella."

"Bella," he repeated pumping my hand gently in his once before letting go.

He smiled at me a moment longer before speaking, "I better see if I can get back inside my own house. Sorry, if I frightened you."

"You didn't frighten me," I insisted reflexively.

"Oh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. That crooked smile was back on his lips. He mockingly put his hands in loose fists in front of his face.

"That was merely self defense," I assured him icily.

"Of course," he agreed, his expression unchanging. "Regardless, it was nice meeting you, Bella." He walked past me before I had the chance to respond.

"Wait!" I called.

He turned towards me.

"You never told me how you ended up here in the first place."

He laughed. Did this guy find everything funny?

"I'm not sure, but I have a pretty good guess that Emmett dumped me here."

"Emmett?" I asked, remembering that he called me that before, after I kicked him.

"My brother." He chuckled again. "If it was Emmett who left me here, you better be thankful that he didn't swaddle me in a blanket, throw a frilly pink hat on my head and leave me in a basket on your porch."

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Emmett is a… class clown, of sorts."

"Oh," I offered, thinking through his story, trying to find a flaw that would label him a murderer who was off to slaughter the neighborhood. "Why would Emmett leave you here though? I mean… where's the joke?"

He stared at me thoughtfully for a second, as if I'd said something that'd interested him. He snapped out of it quickly though, answering my question. "Emmett warned me to stay out of the house tonight and I ignored him," he shrugged.

"Why did he want you out of the house?" I felt like a detective shining a bright light in this guy's face. It bothered me how lightly it took the investigation.

"He had plans with his girlfriend, Rose, tonight…"

I stared at him dumbly as he left his sentence unfinished.

"… plans that would take place in the bedroom we both share…"

I got it then. I blushed and the guy – I suppose I could refer to him by name now – Edward grinned.

"Yep. He warned me, but it's kind of my job – being the younger brother – to get on his nerves. So I fell asleep in my bed before he got home –"

"And he brought you here," I finished.


Well, his story seemed convincing enough. I mean, I don't think he could have really made the whole thing up. Or maybe it was just his voice that was convincing me… or his eyes.

"Why don't you stay here?" Someone asked suddenly.

Edward raised one perfect copper colored eyebrow, staring directly at me.

It took me a moment to realize that I was the one who had spoken. I scrambled to defend myself. "I mean… your brother obviously doesn't want you there. How do you know you won't end up right back here?"

Edward laughed, "You're probably right."

"I usually am."

We stared at each other silently for a moment. Finally he smirked. "Well aren't you going to invite me inside."

I frowned. Why was I acting like this? The inside of my head was unorganized and my entire body was flustered. I tried to shake off the feeling as I turned back towards the house and stepped inside. I waited for Edward to step inside as well, before sliding the door closed.

As I turned to look at him, I was once again reminded of how tall he was. There was at least a foot difference between the two of us. I started wondering again how old he was. For all I knew he could be a really mature second grader. I was about to ask him but he began with, "You actually managed to get Brian to sleep?"

I was a little confused at where his thoughts had wandered but then I saw him eyeing the hallway that led to the stairs. The house did seem eerily quiet without its usual background music of screams and explosions from toy guns.

"Yeah," I sighed, "But he didn't go down without a fight."

Edward chuckled. "He never does."

"You've babysat for the Draft's before?"

"Yes. Emmett was better at it then me though – babysitting Brian that is. He lasted seven visits."

"Seven?!" I gasped, nauseated at the very thought of ever coming back here again.

Edward nodded and then sheepishly added, "I only lasted two and a half."

"Well, be proud," I sighed, "I'm more then positive that my record will be one visit."

He laughed. "That bad?"

I nodded.

"But let me tell you," he chuckled, "their movie selection sure makes up for it."

"I know. I was just on my over there when I noticed the body lying outside on the deck."

He rubbed the back of his neck and frowned suddenly, "I really do apologize for that. My brother can take a joke too far sometimes."

Something stirred inside of me then, and I don't know what it was, I just knew that I didn't like it when Edward wasn't smiling. "No big deal. Like I said, I wasn't scared."

I let out a sigh – relief? – when he smiled again. "Of course not."

"So do you want to watch one? A movie, I mean," I asked, strangely terrified that his smile would vanish again.

"Absolutely," he grinned.

Edward followed me into the living room, even sitting on the floor beside me in front of the wall sized shelves of movies and video games.

"Alright," I sighed, "Which one to choose…"

Edward picked one off the shelf, seeming to choose at random. "How about this one?"

"Urban Cowboy?" I wondered aloud. I had seen it once with Renee, back when I had lived in Arizona. It was during one of her John Travolta phases. The pit of my stomach twisted as I remembered a certain scene near the middle that would probably be similar to what Edward's brother Emmett and his girlfriend were doing right about now. I wrinkled my nose and blushed. That was bound to be awkward.

"Seen it," I offered simply, turning my attention back towards the movies. "Spider-man?"

Edward rolled his eyes. "Kryptonite, lovely."

I laughed, "I think you're confusing your Spider-man with your Superman."

"Radio active spiders, then?"

I nodded.

"Seen it," he shrugged, the most heartbreaking smile on his face. In fact, his entire face was heartbreaking.

Why hadn't I noticed it before? That he was… angelic.

I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks so I turned back towards the movies before he could notice.

"West Side Story?" He asked after a moment.

"You like the classics?" I gasped, easily embarrassing myself as my head swiveled towards him.

"Some," he smiled crookedly. "Don't tell Emmett though. I'd never hear the end of it."

I nodded, too lost in my own head to form a coherent answer.

"I take it that you like them as well?"

"Yes. Romeo and Juliet's my favorite." I wasn't sure why, but my answer made me blush.

"You blush a lot," he observed suddenly, tilting his head in thought, still staring at me. I desperately wanted to say something, save myself from embarrassment, anything, but I forgot how to. I just stared at him and tried to memorize the flecks of gold that lay beneath the emerald gemstones in his eyes. "Maybe your cheeks are just red from the heat," he offered. "I mean, you think a family so rich would have an air conditioner of some sort."

"Yeah," I agreed when I finally found my voice. "It's pretty warm in here." I turned my face away from his completely, pretending to look farther down the shelf.

"The Last of the Mohican's!" I cried suddenly, grabbing the DVD. I remember watching this with Charlie on the discovery channel once when I was younger. It had to be the goriest movie I'd ever seen. I couldn't remember one scene in the entire movie that would trigger my blush. It was perfect.

"1992 version?" Edward question casually, to my surprise.

I studied the front of the case. "Yep."

"Perfect," he smiled.


"Corn syrup."


"Corn syrup."

I glared at him.

"Bella," he chuckled, "Trust me on this one. I know my action movies. They use corn syrup for the fake blood."

I pursed my lips angrily. "Well it looks like ketchup."

Edward shrugged, still smiling.

We laughed in unison as Alice Munro threw herself off the cliff after Uncas had been slaughtered. Apparently she just "couldn't go on."

"What a drama-queen," I smiled, rolling my eyes.

Edward nodded in agreement. "Drama-queen or not, they did the scene all wrong. Nobody falls off cliffs with that much grace."

"Or stable set of mind," I added.

Edward chuckled freely.

"Edward, how old are you?" I asked abruptly, remembering that I still had no idea.

"Seventeen," he answered, looking away from the screen to spellbind me with his eyes. "How old are you, Bella?"

"Twelve," I answered smoothly, turning to look at the screen. I could feel Edward's horrified gaze burning against the side of my head. I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye. Yep, horrified. I laughed. "I'm kidding!"

He relaxed immediately and his crooked smile was back. "I knew that," he lied effortlessly. "You're a terrible liar you know."

"I know," I smiled. "But you still believed me."

Edward rolled his eyes. We were hardly paying attention to the movie anymore.

"I'm seventeen too, by the way."

"Good," he smiled.

"Good?" I raised my eyebrow.

He nodded and turned back towards the television.

I sighed. He was going to make me beg.

"Why does the fact that I was born seventeen years ago make you happy?"

He shrugged without a taking his eyes off the screen. "There are certain things that a seventeen year old can not do with a twelve year old."

I'm sure that he was implying something completely different than what my overactive mind was leaning towards, but my heart skipped into overdrive anyway.

"Oh..." I tried to sound nonchalant, like his answer didn't really affect me, but my blush gave me away. "What kind of things?"

He shrugged again. The action would seem overly indifferent if anyone else had been in his place but when Edward did it, it seemed like he an Oscar winning actor in a low-budget film. I couldn't seem to look away from him.

He was silent for a few minutes, seeming to have suddenly taken intense interest in the movie.

I wished he would talk. Say something. Anything. The only sounds in the room were my sporadic heart beat and heavy breathing, which were proving to be embarrassing me to oblivion.

And then his hand touched mine. I jumped at first, startled by the contact, but he waited for me to relax before speaking. "This, for example, would hardly be acceptable if you were twelve."

I managed to nod and say, "You're right."

My breathing stuttered as his thumb made gentle circles on my wrist.

"Or this," he whispered. We were facing each other now, and the hand that was not holding mine, brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes, and smoothed it behind one of my ears.

I lost myself in his eyes, hardly aware that I was able to speak. "Yes. A twelve year old girl might get the wrong idea if you did that."

He nodded seriously. His eyes penetrated into my own, his irises flickering rapidly as if he was searching for something in my own flat brown eyes. I wasn't sure if he found what he was looking for but suddenly his face was getting bigger – was he getting closer? – and I could feel his warm breath again my lips. "Then it's a good thing you're not twelve."

I expected him to kiss me then. Press his warm looking lips against my own and make me melt. But he hesitated. At first, I thought he was getting second thoughts about kissing me –that was what he was trying to do, right? – but I soon realized that he was waiting for my reaction, my cue to stop, perhaps produce some line like, I think we're moving too fast.

What we both weren't ready for, was my response.

I closed the distance between us quickly, closing my eyes as my lips pressed against his – they were warm, just like I had guessed. He reacted just as quickly though, reaching up with a large pale hand to press his fingertips gently to my cheekbone.

The kiss was short and innocent, though when he pulled away, he left his hand on my face, and his forehead against my own.

I opened my eyes and emerald gemstones were all I could see.

"Sorry," he murmured instantly, "I didn't mean to —"

I don't know where my sudden rush of confidence came from, but I suddenly found myself cutting him off with my lips.

He responded more intensely now, probably realizing that I wanted him to kiss me, and let his hand crawl to the nape of my neck. And then, with the gentle sweeping of his hand, his fingers pulled themselves through my hair until they found the ends. The action made my insides flutter and without my brain's permission to do so, I moaned softly against his lips.

His lips were suddenly unresponsive beneath mine and my heart faltered. Had I done something wrong? Did the involuntary action of moaning scare him away? Did he realize that we were going too fast? He pulled away and I froze, feeling my face drain.

"Bella?" he asked. It comforted me that he had not moved away completely. His lips were still merely inches from my own.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, scrambling to find a good excuse for my actions. Perhaps I could blame it on his kissing expertise. But he shook his head.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

The question caught me off guard and I could feel my eyebrows furrow inward. "No." I thought about whether to confess it or not and decided that it shouldn't really matter. "That was actually my first kiss." I blushed and tried to look away from his compelling gaze.

His grin, however, caught my eye and I had no hope of looking away. "So I'm the only one that has ever made you make that noise?"

Was he referring to the moan? "Of course," I hissed, angry that he would even have to ask. Did he think that I would be kissing him if I had a boyfriend?

"Just checking," he grinned.

He leaned back in to kiss me but before his lips could cover mine I asked, "Do you?"

"Have a girlfriend?"

I nodded.

"No," he smiled, "this is my first kiss as well."

I wanted to say something but I didn't have a choice as his lips reattached themselves to my own. Though, I didn't want a choice really. It was suddenly my new favorite hobby, kissing this beautiful boy who I had just meet. And strangely enough, the fact that I had just met him didn't bother me in the least. Nor did the fact that we were kissing on the Draft's velvet sofa.

All of it should have bothered me, but I failed to find a brain cell in my mind that found the need to mull over it.

Every part of me was focused on him. Edward. Edward. Edward. Edward.

And then there was a dysfunction in my brain. It was no longer his name that spun and saturated me. In fact, their weren't words at all. There were lights and stars and fireworks.

The cause of the dysfunction was Edward's smooth tongue against my bottom lip.

I probably would have fainted eventually, from lack of oxygen, nonetheless. I might have even drifted right into a coma. Maybe I would have even died and gone to heaven.

That was, if the doorbell hadn't rung.

Edward and I pulled away from one another abruptly, yet reluctantly.

"Brian," I gasped, trying to think straight and breath at the same time. I would not let that doorbell wake him up. Especially with Edward here. "Go," I demanded through my panting. "Hide!"

Edward reacted immediately, racing towards the sliding glass door and disappearing outside.

I dashed the opposite way – trying to control my breathing, which was nearly impossible – and threw open the front door without checking to see who it was first.

My eye's winded as I took in the figure that was posed in the Draft's doorway. The man was too large to possibly be human. His brawny muscle was the opposite of Edward's wiry muscle – that was in fact muscle (more then I had originally assumed) – but he seemed to have the same happy-go-lucky smile. Their faces were very alike actually. Though, perhaps this stranger had no relation to Edward at all. Perhaps I could see his face everywhere now, a trick of the mind, like in gooey soap operas.

"Hey," the burly man smiled wider, "you must be Brian's babysitter."

I nodded.

He managed to smile even wider. "Tough break."

"Tell me about it."

…and wider…

"I'm Emmett," he introduced himself.

I sighed with relief. He was related to Edward. I wasn't going crazy.

"Bella," I grinned.

"Nice to meet you, Bella. Say, did you happen to find something… peculiar on the back deck this fine, fine, evening?" He grinned.

I quickly bit down on my lip. I wasn't sure if I should tell Emmett that his brother had been here. Perhaps Edward wanted to get back at him somehow and I was just interfering.

"Save it, Bella," he chuckled suddenly, interrupting my thinking, "I can already tell that you're a bad liar."

I opened my mouth, preparing to defend myself but he was already stepping around me and into the house.

"Hey!" I called as he strolled away, into the living room. "What are you doing!?"

"It's alright, Bella," I heard Edward's voice call from somewhere around the gigantic wall that was Emmett. "I kind of expected this."

Emmett laughed. "How did you expect that Rose's Aunt Mattie's cat, Snowball would have kittens?"

I had to laugh at that as I walked around Emmett, finding Edward sitting on the couch in front of us. "You got ditched for kittens?" I asked Emmett.

Emmett shrugged. "She promised she would make it up to me, so it's all good," Emmett wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Ugh," Edward groaned, "Emmett, please."

Emmett grinned. "It's not my fault that you're a prude, Edward. Hey Bella," Emmett called, talking to me now, "did you know that the guy's never even kissed a girl." Emmett laughed joyfully.

So Edward had been telling the truth when he said that I was his first kiss. The information sent of tsunami of butterflies through my stomach.

I had been so focused on containing my smile, that I didn't even notice the blush rising to my cheeks until it burned uncomfortably on my skin.

I glanced at Edward and noticed that his cheeks were slightly pink as well. I tried my best not to giggle nervously.

"Ah, man!" Emmett complained after a long uncomfortable moment of silence. "Edward, tell me you didn't kiss her!"

I watched silent and frozen as Edward smiled freely. "What's it to you, Emmett?"

"I was going to kiss her!"

My expression became horrified and startled as I stared at Emmett's massive frame. Edward's brother seemed like he could be a great friend, but nothing more… nothing like that.

And then Emmett's laughter sang through the room and he threw his gigantic head back.

I just managed to hear Edward's soft chuckle beneath the booming. "He's kidding, Bella."

My eyes widened as I sighed in relief.

"Sorry," Emmett said after his laughter had faded to nothing more then a few scattered chuckles, "You're not my type," he winked.

"What Emmett means," Edward interceded quickly, glaring at Emmett, "Is that you're not blond haired, blue eyed, and made with more plastic then Esme's Honda."

"Esme?" I asked before Emmett could take his jab back at Edward.

"Our step Mom," Edward answered easily.

"Oh," I frowned, confused, "So you're not related."

"Not by blood," Edward answered, "no. But we've been brothers all our life's."

So maybe I was going crazy. I could deal with that.

I wanted to ask them so much more. How did they end up with Esme? Was she an Aunt? Did they have a step father? What happened to their parents? But I was cut off by the ringing of the phone.

"Be right back," I told them before dashing into the kitchen and picking up the phone. Surely Brian would have woken up by now if he was at all a light sleeper. Emmett's laughter had been enough to shake the whole house, and there failed to be any earsplitting screeches. That was always a good sign. The ringing of a telephone seemed like the squeak of a mouse compared to Emmett.


"Bella? It's Mrs. Draft." She wasn't yelling for once.

"Hello," I repeated in greeting.

"Dear, Mr. Draft had a nasty spill tonight on the dance floor."

"Oh," I murmured, concerned, "is he alright?"

"He's fine," she assured me, "Just pulled a thing or two in his back. We thought we'd head home early though, and let him rest it."

All the pieces of the puzzle were falling together now. The background was quiet, no music, no yelling, no huhs? what's? or who's? They were on their way home, and I was dead.

"Okay," I answered weakly.

"We'll be home in about ten minutes, Bella! See you then!"

I didn't wait for the line to go silent this time. I threw the phone back onto it's cradle and skidded my way into the living room.

Edward stood up from the couch, startled from my entrance and Emmett's hands reached out to steady me.

"Whoa, Bella," Emmett said, "What's going on?"

"They're going to be home! Ten minutes!" I sputtered, my eyes roaming over the sea of misplaced toys. "I'll never clean it up it time."

"Calm down, Bella," Edward soothed in the way only his voice could, "You're not here alone."

Emmett nodded in agreement before taking his hands off my shoulders and disappearing into the toy room. Edward began picking up the toys that laid scattered beneath the TV. and threw them across the room into one of hundreds of toy boxes in the house.

I opted on starting with the hallway.

Five minutes later the house was spotless. Cleaner then it had been when I had walked in even.

Most of the credit went to Emmett, though. Who knew that the guy had a knack for cleaning. He was like a tornado – leaving sparkling floors in his path instead of destruction.

"Now, why can't you do that to your side of the room," Edward complained as we ogled Emmett's work.

Emmett grinned in response and shrugged. "I'm too lazy."

Edward rolled his eyes. "I've noticed."

And then it was time for them to leave. I walked them both to the backdoor, just in case Mr. and Mrs. Draft arrived early, and followed them to the edge of the porch.

Emmett was the first to say goodbye.

"It was nice meeting you, Bella! Hope to see you again some time!" And then, to my surprise, enveloped me in his giant arms and hugged me tightly.

"Emmett," I gasped against his chest, "Can't breathe!"

"Oh," He realized, letting me go, "Sorry."

I smiled and rubbed the side of my neck.

Emmett glanced quickly between Edward and I and then very dramatically folded his hands over his eyes. "I'm not looking. Take your time." He laughed before hopping off the deck and jogging into the darkness.

Edward didn't look after his brother like I did, instead he stared at me, raising one hand lightly to press his fingertips to my cheekbone like before.

"And I thought he was a murder," I mumbled to myself, remembering the ridiculous scenarios I had created in my over imaginative mind.

He leaned closer, seeming to have not heard my last sentence, when we both froze, listening as a car rolled over loose gravel in the driveway out front.

"I'll see you again, right?" He demanded suddenly, huskily.

I nodded frantically, "Of course."



I could hear the click of high heels on cement.

Edward's movements were quick and not as gentle as before as he used both hands to cradle the back of my head, pushing my lips to his. The kiss was short, and his tongue stayed inside his mouth – surely Mr. and Mrs. Draft would worry that they hired a lunatic if I rushed inside after that – and just as abruptly as he had appeared on the deck…

he was gone.

I suppressed the urge to search the darkness – maybe detecting a messy blob of auburn in the pitch black night – and ran back inside, sliding closed the glass door. At the same moment, the front door clicked open.


I tiptoed quickly over to the couch and sat down, managing to catch the first roll of credits on The Last of the Mohicans.

"In here, Mrs. Draft!" I called softly.

I could hear the heavy sound of footsteps going up the stairs – Mr. Draft – and then Mrs. Draft appeared in the doorway.

"Wow, Bella," she gasped, her eyes roaming the clean room, "This place is spotless! Thank you!"

"No problem," I offered, slightly guilty that I was taking credit for the deed. I stood up from the couch and shifted awkwardly from foot to foot as Mrs. Draft fumbled with the zipper on her purse.

"Ah-ha," she smiled as it slid open, "there we go!" She reached in and produced a wad of cash, handing it to me. "I really appreciate all of your hard work, Bella, you truly are amazing!"

I smiled politely.

"I was actually wondering," Mrs. Draft continued, "If you were available to babysit, Brain again."

"When?" I asked warily.

Mrs. Draft bit her lip. "Tomorrow night?"

My eyes suddenly gravitated towards the sliding glass door on my right and then back to Mrs. Draft. Tomorrow night?

"I'm there."

NOTE: I didn't have time to read over the entire ending part, so I apologize for mistakes!

So? How was it?

I'm going to put up a poll, asking if you readers would like this written in Edward's POV or not

Special thanks to my cyber-buddy Cricket (Hopping Cricket) who inspired me with her story "Beyond The Looking Glass" to use the phrase "looking glass" in this story! (Go read her Alice/Jasper one-shot! It's great!)

Well, I'm in a rush now so if I forgot to go over anything or if you have any questions, don't hesitate to PM me!

Please, review! :) Thanks!

P.S. This is a one-shot and will remain that way!