Chapter Notes: This is my first attempt at writing in the Twilight area, so I hope it doesn't suck too bad. I'd like to thank the crap tutoring service at my Community College for giving me the idea, but mainly I want to thank Hannah, because if not for her, I wouldn't have even THOUGHT to write this story, much less actually write it. So thank you, Hannah, for being my motivation and inspiration!

This story is All Human, and the characters are extremely OOC.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, or any of the characters, obviously. That honor goes to Stephenie Meyer.

Chapter Song: Live From The Other Side – Don McCloskey

--EPOV--

Fucking tutoring. What a waste of time and energy. I may be skinny, but walking the quarter of a mile up that 45-degree hill, plus three flights of stairs for absolutely nothing is not exactly a welcoming source of exercise.

I pulled my cell phone out of my back pocket and pressed a button, lighting the screen up to display the time: 3:08 PM. I sighed and put it away. I'd spent more time on the walk up than I did in the actual building.

Fucking HSS. I hated that stupid building.

Math, with the exception of Algebra, was never my strong point. In high school, I'd been fortunate enough to have the same teacher for both Geometry and Trigonometry, and he was more than willing to tutor me in anything I was having difficulties understanding. I did fairly well in those classes and, much to my surprise, I'd scored relatively high on the math portion of the entrance exams, which allowed me to go straight into college-level Statistics. It was only icing on the cake when I realized that, as a Biology major, it was the only math class I'd have to take ever again. Since I'd done so well on my exams, I'd thought Statistics would be a piece of cake.

I thought wrong.

I wasn't as naïve to think that my math teacher in college would be as amazing as my teacher in High School, but I definitely didn't expect to get one who could barely speak English and completely disregarded any question a student asked, or one who was obsessed with Elephant Seals.

So, here I was, in the beginning of my fourth semester at San Francisco State University, taking Statistics for the third time. I'd managed to get through 9 semesters worth of Science in 4, but I could not pass that fucking class for the life of me; a class that wasn't even really MATH! Just words, and weird formulas, and complete nonsense that I'd never have to use in the real world.

Just the same, this should be my last semester as an undergrad, and even though I didn't see the point of this bullshit course, I'd be stuck as an undergrad for the rest of my incompetent life if I couldn't figure out a way to pass it. I'd expressed my worries to my counselor, who suggested I form a study group, or sign up for tutoring the first day of class. Naturally, I opted for the latter of the two. I registered in the tutoring room, was assigned a time, two days, and tutor, starting the following week, and went on my merry way.

Today was supposed to be my first scheduled day of tutoring, so I marched my happy ass up to the Human and Social Sciences building, up the three flights of stairs, and into the tutoring room with my heavy ass book in my backpack, and for what? Absolutely nothing, because the dumb as shit tutoring center couldn't even manage to get my schedule right. The whole debacle was a fucking disaster...

10 minutes prior...

"Do you need help, young man?" an older woman standing next to the unoccupied sign in desk asked me as I sat down, hunched over to catch my breath.

"Yes," I replied, pulling out the paper I received when I signed up. "I'm here for tutoring. It's my first day, so I'm not really sure what I need to do..." I trailed off.

"Oh, all right," she said, taking the paper from my hand. I stood up and looked around the room as she glanced over the paper. "Follow me, then." She walked out the door and into a room directly across the corridor, filled with round tables, tutors and students.

"Just go ahead and sit at one of these tables, then, and wait for somebody who looks like this Edward Callan to come in. Cal...?—yes, Callan." I scrunched up my face in confusion.

"What? No, that's me. I'm Edward. Cullen. I need tutoring."

"Oh! Well, then, who's your tutor?"

.......

"I'm assuming this person, whose name is next to the word 'tutor'." I replied as calmly as I could, pointing to the highlighted name.

"Oh. Troy Kim. Kim...he must be an oriental, then—"

...Is this bitch for real?

"Is there a Troy Kim in here?" she shouted.

Oh, my god.

A hand shot up and I thanked the woman, took my paper back, and walked towards Troy while shooting apologetic glances at everybody.

"Hi," I said, pulling out a chair and throwing my backpack on the floor. "So, I haven't really gotten too far into the class yet, obviously, but this is the third time I've attempted to take it, and I have to pass it this time, so I needed to sign up for tutoring to help me throughout the semester," I rambled, pulling my book out of my bag.

"Wait, what?" he asked, looking at a sheet of paper. "Are you sure you have the right tutor?"

Okay, maybe the O.G. over there is losing her eyesight, but I'm fairly positive mine is decent enough to see TROY KIM printed and highlighted on the paper, asswipe.

"That's what it says," I said, opening my paper once more and showing him.

"Huh. You're not on my schedule. I have Jasmin Duncan on here for right now," he mumbled, looking at my paper again. "Oh, I see. I don't tutor in math anymore. They must have changed your tutor after you registered. You probably got Bella." I stared at him, raising my eyebrows. "Bella, the one that just walked into the computer lab?"

I shook my head, letting him know I had no idea what he was talking about.

"Oh, well. Lets go ask," he said, standing up. I grabbed my things and walked behind him, out the door and back into the sign in room. He spoke to the older woman, half of which I couldn't understand, and she turned to me.

"So you don't need math, then? You need Physiology?"

"What? No. I mean, yeah, I need math. I need tutoring in math," I said, exasperated.

"Is this not your tutor?"

"Apparently not. He said he doesn't do math anymore, and I guess I was assigned another tutor and not consulted about it." I scoffed.

"Well who's your new tutor, then?" she asked.

"I don't know!" I half-yelled. I rubbed my temples and closed my eyes, pinched the bridge of my nose, and exhaled deeply. "I don't know," I said again, calmly. "He said you can probably check the computer and see who my new tutor should be."

"Oh, the computer is locked up. I can't get into it."

I stared blankly at her. Another woman walked out of an office door, locking it up.

"Julia, maybe you can help. He needs a tutor," the older lady chirped.

I was seriously debating slamming my head into the wall. Hard.

"No," I groaned turning to this Julia woman."I already had a tutor. I came in last week and signed up, but apparently, the woman didn't realize that the tutor she assigned me was no longer tutoring in math, so I'm assuming my new tutor's name is in the computer, but she—" I nodded in the older woman's direction "—can't get into the computer because it's locked."

"Oh. Well, we're closing up for the day, so I don't—can you come back tomorrow between the hours of 8 and 4, and find out then?"

I leaned my head back and stared at the ceiling.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Deep breath two...

"I don't know," I said, barely above a whisper.

"Well can you call?"

"Yes. I can call." I replied a little louder, still staring at the ceiling.

"Okay, you should be able to get this taken care of tomorrow, then. I'm sorry about that."

"Uh huh," I muttered as I signed out. I turned around and walked out, down the three flights of stairs, and pushed open the glass door that led to the front of the school.

So there I was, standing in front of the campus, debating whether or not I really felt like walking all the way back to my dorm.

I looked to the right, down the sloped hill, then to left, where crowds of people were crossing the street to and from the MUNI—the city's public rail transit—station. Then, I did it a second time, and a third, and a fourth. Suddenly, I felt my back pocket vibrate. I looked at the screen and smiled; she would be calling me right now. I hit the answer button and put the phone to my ear.

"Edward," she started calmly, "cross the street, and get on the MUNI."

"My little psychic." I joked, but started towards the crosswalk as she ordered me to.

"The one and only. Now, what's wrong?" I went into a recount of what had just happened as I crossed the street and waited for the M line to pull up.

"What idiots," she snorted. "I'm so glad I don't have to deal with that crap."

"Well, not all of us are as artistically capable as you are." I replied, looking down the tracks on the road and seeing the MUNI start to move past the rail light.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll see you in twenty."

"Peets?" I asked, plugging my ear as it pulled up.

"Isn't it always?" she answered rhetorically. I heard a beep that signaled the call being disconnected and grinned, shaking my head.

Alice had been my best friend since the day we met when we were nine. I was born in Chicago, where my father, Carlisle, worked as a well-respected Physician at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. He'd enjoyed the big city life, and while my mother Esme didn't mind it, she'd always hoped she would be able to return to her small hometown on the Olympic Peninsula to raise her family with her best friend, Diane McCarty—who had a son named Emmett my age—like they'd always promised to do. So, being the unselfish man my father is, he easily landed himself a job at Forks Memorial Hospital, packed the house up and moved us to Washington.

Three years later, Diane gained custody of her niece, Alice Brandon. She was quiet, reserved, and scared of everybody but me. Although it took a while for her to really warm up to me, she trusted me more than anybody else, and that was enough; I knew from day one that it would be worth the wait, and I was right.

Alice never spoke much of why she ended up in Forks, but from what she'd told me, what I'd overheard, and what I'd managed to decipher on my own, she'd always had psychic abilities. Her parents were strict Christians, and believed that anything paranormal was of the devil. They had numerous exorcisms performed on her, took her to many psychiatrists, and when none of that seemed to work, they threw her in a mental asylum—all by the age of eight. When Diane heard of the extent of the situation, she went ballistic and demanded that her sister hand Alice over immediately, or she'd call child protective services, have her and her husband arrested, and get Alice that way. Naturally, that scared Alice's parents, and the same week, Diane and her husband Paul went to Seattle empty-handed, and came back with Alice.

Within the year, adoption papers were sent to Diane and Paul, signed, filed, and Alice was legally their daughter.

Alice became more comfortable over the years with her psychic abilities; nobody ever made her feel inferior because of it. Her brother/cousin, Emmett—who is also one of my best friends as well as my dorm mate—thinks it's completely awesome, and if we tease her about knowing almost everything before it happens, it's all in good-hearted fun.

I snapped out of my reverie and looked around for the station sign when I realized we were slowing to a stop. I peered out the doors when they opened and saw it was Forest Hill. People crowded in, grabbing onto the rails above and on the side of them as the doors closed and we began moving again. When I estimated we were close to the Castro station, I pushed my way near the doors. When they opened, I stepped off quickly, making my way towards the stairs and out of the station.

It was only a five minute walk to Peet's Coffee & Tea shop from the Castro station. We always met at the one on Market Street, because it was right in the middle of both of our locations. Alice was attending the Academy of Art University for fashion; she aspired to be a designer, for whatever reason.

My phone vibrated in my pocket again and I answered it, not needing to look at the screen to know who it was.

"Yes?" I asked, sticking my free hand in my pocket.

"I'm almost at the register. Not that I really need to ask, but just in case, a medium café mocha, yes?"

"Absolutely. I'm about two blocks away. Thanks, midget."

"Fuck off," she huffed, then hung up. I snickered and ran across the street as I shoved my phone back in my pocket.

I walked in and saw her by the counter, waiting for our drinks. She motioned for me to grab a seat while she waited, and I looked around before throwing my bag down next to one of the tables by the window, on the opposite side of the coffee counter and sitting down. I looked around, spotted a newspaper on the counter, leaned over to grab it, and opened it to the news section, immediately being met with an article on zoo animal births.

"I find it hard to believe that anybody cares about this," I mumbled, slapping the picture of a mother and baby giraffe with my fingers.

"Apparently somebody does, or it wouldn't be printed," Alice said as she reached the table with both of our coffees. I grunted a thank you and picked up my cup, taking a sip of my steaming hot liquid-form of sex.

"Why did you bring that hideous...thing?" she asked in a disgusted tone, staring at my backpack with disdain.

"I didn't have much of a choice, Ali. I went straight to the MUNI station after I walked out of that nightmare of a tutoring center."

"Fair enough," she said, though her facial expression and tone said otherwise. I took another sip of my coffee.

Mmm. Heaven. I closed my eyes and smiled blissfully.

"So I went shopping yesterday—" I cringed.

Way to ruin the moment, Alice.

"What's new?" I muttered.

"What was that?" she challenged, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

"I can't even remember the last time you went a day without saying that," I said, rolling my eyes. "It's been so long, those times may as well be non-existent. Just admit it, Alice. You're obsessed with shopping."

"I am not obsessed with shopping, Edward." I sighed and went back to reading the newspaper. "I am merely able to find fabulous clothes at fabulous prices, and if I can both find and afford them, why shouldn't I indulge? It's not as if they're not getting put to good use. Besides, if I'm going into fashion—and I am—I need to know what's in style all the time. Which reminds me, I found the most magnificent outfit at Bloomingdales that would look absolutely incredible on you."

I looked up at her and blinked.

She raised her eyebrows and looked at me expectantly.

I blinked twice.

She furrowed her eyebrows and gave me a distasteful look.

"How did you manage to say all that in one breath?"

"You are impossible, Edward Cullen," she said, throwing up her hands in aggravation.

"I try," I replied blandly, looking back down to the newspaper and flipping the page. I was halfway paying attention to the article on stem cells when I saw Alice's knee start bobbing up and down under the table. I fought back a grin and cleared my throat, furrowing my eyebrows and leaning my head towards the newspaper, as if I were completely engrossed.

I heard her sigh softly, then saw her tapping her fingers on the table top. I continued reading.

Then came the impatient sigh, followed immediately by her hand semi-slamming onto the table. I rolled my eyes and looked at her, finally.

"I suppose it's safe to assume that 'would' actually translates into 'will,' and that I'll be accompanying you—against my better judgment, might I add—on a trip to Bloomingdales?" I sighed, folding up the newspaper and throwing it back onto the counter.

"You assume correctly. See? You're a smart man! You don't need tutoring," she said, standing up and grabbing both of our coffees.

"I'm getting tutored in math, Alice, not in understanding you females and your warped communication tactics." I stood up and stretched, scratched my stomach through my sweatshirt and put on my backpack.

"Math, shmath," she said, rolling her eyes and thrusting my coffee into my chest. "It's hardly relevant at the moment. Now, let's go before somebody else gets their grubby hands on your outfit."

"Okay, okay," I groaned, following her out the door. Since it was a nice day out, and we were already on Market street and only about two miles away from the Shopping Centre, we decided to walk.

"So, how's my filthy ogre of a brother doing?" Alice asked, putting on her designer sunglasses and looking both ways before we crossed the street.

"Same as always," I replied, putting on my sunglasses as well and taking a sip of coffee. "He's not around so much anymore, now that he's—" I made a whipping gesture and sound simultaneously and she laughed heartily.

"I guess. Rosalie is...something," she concluded, nodding slowly.

"Mmmhm. I don't know, Alice. I mean, we don't know how they are behind closed doors."

I immediately cringed and Alice shuddered.

"That's not what I meant, I swear."

"Yeah, I get what you mean. She must act differently with him, because I know he's dumb, but he's not that stupid. He regards himself too highly to be some bitches bitch." I snorted and nodded in agreement. It was silent for a few minutes as I waited for the next inevitable question.

"How's Jasper?" she asked, attempting to sound nonchalant. I smirked and took another sip of my coffee and looked down at her.

Jasper is my other roommate, whom Alice has been completely infatuated with from the day she met him. While Emmett and I requested to be roommates, poor Jasper randomly got thrown in with us at the beginning of the year, since Sophomore dorms fit up to four people. He's a sort of reserved person, but despite that, we all got along right away; he's just as funny as Emmett in his own respect, and we've had some pretty good times with each other so far. Coincidentally, his twin sister is Rosalie, which is how Emmett met her and consequently, began dating her.

"He's fine," I replied. She nodded and took a drink of her coffee and it was silent again.

5, 4, 3, 2...

"Still single?"

"Yes, Alice. Jasper is still single. Don't worry, nobody's stolen your man, yet."

"Shut up!" she screeched, bumping her hip into me as hard as she could. I laughed and rubbed my upper thigh.

"Eat a burger, woman. I think your hip bone punctured my skin."

It took us about forty minutes to get to the Westfield San Francisco Shopping Centre, but the second it came into view, I all but fell over myself as I was yanked by an overly-energetic midget towards the doors, then in.

"This place is ridiculous," I muttered as we walked in. It was all white and gold, with curved escalators all the way to the top, lined with gold bars, and designer stores at every corner.

"You'll survive. Come along, then," she quippedd, dragging me by the sleeve of my sweatshirt down the length of the first floor until we came to the Bloomingdales entrance.

"Ah, home away from home...away from home," Alice sighed happily, walking inside.

"Alice! Back again so soon?" I heard, and a man dressed in an expensive looking suit enveloped her in a hug.

"Of course, Tony. You know I can't stay away for too long. This time it's for my best friend, here, Edward. I saw a few things yesterday that would look killer on him, and he agreed to submit himself to my wrath, because he loves me."

She grinned cheekily and I rolled my eyes.

"Lucky woman, you are," he mumbled into her ear as he looked me up and down. I shifted uncomfortably from side to side. "Well, let me know if you need anything, darling."

"I always do. Come on."

She led me towards the Men's section and went straight for a rack of jeans.

"What are you, a 31 waist?" she asked, walking over to me.

"Uh...I don't really knowWWWEEEE, WHAT THE HELL, ALICE?!" I screeched as she shoved her hand into the back of my jeans and pulled on the waist.

"Relax, Edward," she said with a roll of her eyes and she made her way back to the rack of jeans. "I was just checking your pants size. I was right, by the way; you're a 31. Remember that." I adjusted my jeans and glared at her, vaguely registering then attempting to ignore the looks I was getting from customers and employees alike.

She threw a pair of jeans at me then started walking towards another wall, filled with blazers and vests.

She's making me wear a fucking vest?

She started rummaging through the rack and I lost interest quickly, silently wondering why I allow myself to be subjected to this kind of torture. I don't like shopping, whether it's for me or not, but definitely not if it's for me. I don't mind the clothes I have, though half of them are due to Alice and her "expertise." I felt something else being thrown at me and looked down at my outstretched arms.

"Fitting room. Go."

She pointed diagonally to the left and I followed her arm until I saw the sign for fitting rooms. This Tony character let me into a room, but not before making it completely obvious he was checking out my ass.

"No shame," I muttered.

"None at all!" he shouted back from the hall. I chuckled and started undressing quickly, eager to get this crap over and done with.

"Are you done, yet?" Alice asked.

"Jeez, give me a second, woman!" I yelled, hopping around on one foot, trying to get the jeans on.

"It's been a second."

"Alice," I warned.

"Okay, okay, jeez."

A few minutes later I emerged in a pair of dark wash jeans and a beige hooded blazer that felt extremely soft and warm. Alice let out a low whistle and grinned proudly.

"Well?" she asked, biting her bottom lip as I stood in front of a tall mirror.

"It looks like something I'd wear. It's all right," I replied, nodding and shrugging.

"EXCUSE me, nothing I dress anybody in is 'all right,'" she said, sauntering over to stand next to me. "This may look like a simple ensemble, but the fit and the colors perfectly accentuate all of your best features." She smacked me on my ass hard and I jumped away, rubbing it and staring at her incredulously.

"What? You have a nice ass, Edward! You need to show it off more." I shook my head and trudged back to the dressing room to get dressed.

"Stay in there, Edward! I'm going to look at a few more things."

Naturally, I emerged just then, holding the clothes between my hands.

"I love how you listen."

"No more, Alice," I said sternly. "I have to go. I have to work tonight."

"What time?" she asked, eying me suspiciously.

"7, and it's 5:50 right now. As it is, I'm cutting it close."

She huffed, knowing I was right, and grabbed the clothes from my hand.

"Fine. We'll just get these and leave." I sighed and followed her towards the register.

"Hold it, shorty!" I exclaimed and stopped. She froze but kept her back to me. "Hand them over."

"But—"

"Zip it. Come on, let me see," I said, motioning with my hands for her to hand them over. She complied reluctantly and I looked at the tag on the sweater.

I damn near went into cardiac arrest.

"Alice! I—this—I don't even make this much in a week! $230 for a sweater?! No, absolutely not. Nope. Take it back. And take these too!" I added, thrusting the jeans at her. "I don't even want to know how much those are."

"$158, but Edward—" she whined.

"That's even more absurd! Who designs $200 pants? 'Joe's Jeans?' I don't even know who Joe is! No! Alice, I love you, but that's ridiculous. I'm never coming shopping with you again. I have to go to work, you crazy little pixie." I bent down and kissed her cheek, darting towards to exit of the store, through the mall and out the doors as quickly as I possibly could.

I decided to just catch the BART—another public rail transit that travels all over the Bay Area—from Powell Street since it was closer, even though it would mean a little more travel time, then catch the bus from Mission Street to Haight Street. I walked through the doors of Amoeba Music with fifteen minutes to spare, worked until closing at 10, then went to my dorm and passed out in my clothes from the day before.

The next day, I had a voicemail telling me I'd be receiving a package, and soon.

Fucking Alice.

Chapter End Notes: I hope you enjoyed! Review, please, and let me know if I'm wasting my time, haha. :)