Disclaimer: The characters are oh so fun to play with. But, of course, I don't own them or the universe from which they came, and I don't really want to either.

This is sort of an outtake from Hell, a.k.a. French Class. You can enjoy this story even if you haven't read the aforementioned one.

Meet you at the bottom of the page! :D


Isabella's POV

"Hey, Isabella!" a voice called. I turned. All annoyance instantly dissipated and my lips automatically turned up in a smile.

Edward Masen. He was witty, gorgeous, and much sought-after, just like the friends he hung out with. Which was completely the opposite of me. I was, to put it in a single word, boring. I had no fashion sense, and I knew it. I could tell by the way most girls looked at my clothes for a longer time than was necessary. I couldn't help it; I could only pick out individual pieces of clothing, and that was as far as my knowledge of clothes went. I honestly had no idea how to pair them. But what did I care? I was the ever practical girl, preferring comfort and function over fashion.

On the other hand, Edward could probably get away with anything. He didn't need glamorous clothes to evoke attention from people. He could wear the ugliest shirt in existence, and people would suddenly worship it as much as they had ever worshipped anything in their lives. Speaking of clothing…Calvin Klein himself would totally love to get his hands on Edward. If that ever happened, I would secure whatever pages they had of Edward in the company's catalog, hang it on my bedroom walls, and worship them all day. Of course, if that even happened, he wouldn't even be here anymore. He would be even more out of my league, and he would no longer call me a friend.

I sighed. I suppose I should be thankful we were even friends, thankful that someone like him would ever waste his breath on someone as commonplace and as lusterless as I was. I wasn't even slightly pretty; although many people, especially my friends, have paid me that compliment, I was sure they were doing it just to be polite, nice even.

Yes, he was my friend. But was 'friend' the correct term? I often found myself observing him a lot more than I should, and I strove to work even harder than I already was, as if I were trying to prove to him that I could be just as talented as he was.

"Isabella?" he said tentatively, in response to my sigh, perhaps. Yet it snapped me out of my thoughts.

"I'm sorry," I panicked. "Did you say something?" Curse me and my over thinking!

He laughed. It was a beautiful sound. I already wanted to hear it again.

"Not yet," was all he responded with.

"Did you need something, then?" My brow was furrowed as I wondered about what he could possibly want with me.

"Not in the way you assume," he answered playfully.

What was I assuming? I couldn't even remember. "Oh?" I asked him.

"Well…" he drew out, "aren't you honestly glad you're finally rid of Demetri?"

Well, hello. I was not expecting this. Why would he care about my love life?

"Very. Why?" I knew him enough to know that he wasn't going to make fun of me. Or else…I may not a beauty queen, but I certainly was not defenseless.

"Well, I was just sort of wondering what you saw in him." His eyebrows were knitted, as if he were trying to decipher a complex puzzle.

"To be honest, I don't really know either," I admitted. Edward had a point. But Demetri hadn't seemed bad at all in the beginning…at the Homecoming dance where I had met him, that was. It wasn't until later that he became more and more like a pig. That turn-off factor canceled out his good looks and his initial appeal.

Edward raised his eyebrows. "Isabella," he said, his voice making my insides do a jig, "you deserve so much better than that."

What was he getting at? "Do I?" I murmured. "And what exactly are you going to do about it?" Was it just me, or was our little banter getting a bit…flirty?

Surprisingly, flirting was something I was good at…or so people said. I had never before tried to purposely flirt; I had never had a need for it. However, spectators often commented that it just came out naturally. I hoped my "natural flirting" was making an appearance now, since I had no way of telling.

His smile unnerved me. "Of course you do," he crooned entrancingly. "You can do so much better than that dim-witted scum." I couldn't help but to laugh at that.

Something caught my attention. I looked away from Edward's enthralling face to see that his friends were all staring at me. I dropped my gaze nervously. My mood suddenly soured, and I wanted to get away from the embarrassment I was sure to have caused for myself—embarrassment I was still causing.

"Look, Edward, I appreciate your…support…for me, but skip the pep talk please. What did you want?"

"Well," he said for about the third time, "I was wondering if you wanted to do something with me later."

I made the mistake of looking into his eyes. They were as soft and as liquid as my resistance was right now.

"Do what?" I asked cautiously. There was no way he would ask me to do something with him as a date…

"I was thinking…coming to my house." But he sounded uncertain. But by golly, it was tempting.

"Why?" That came out a little sharper than I had intended; I couldn't deny the fact that I was somewhat suspicious.

"We could cook?" I could tell the last word was clearly altered. He sounded completely off now, no doubt because of my tone. Stupid, stupid me!

I snorted, delicately, I hoped. "Why would I need to cook at your house? If I had wanted to, I could've done so at my own, you know." Crap, crap, crap! That came out all wrong!

He was floundering now. As nervous as that made me in return, I was flattered that I had made Edward Masen flounder.

"Sorry. That was stupid. Forget I ever said anything, okay? I'll talk to you later." He spun around and returned to his table of friends before I could even think of correcting myself. I saw his friends pestering him about something, such as why he would want anything to do with me, no doubt.

Especially now that Edward had voiced his opinions of Demetri, it was clear that apparently I appealed to only the undesirable. I was hopeless.

"Girl, you are so lucky," a gloomy voice interrupted, breaking into my thoughts. It was a girl I had only seen around but had never spoken to before.

"What?"

"Edward Masen, of all people, has his eye on you, and you rejected him!" What?

"I did not reject him!" I defended myself.

"Uhh…yeah, you did. See, he's shy. He's never had a girlfriend in his life. Hell, I don't even think he's ever liked anyone before in his life. Trust me. Those looks he was giving you make it so obvious that he likes you. Asking you to his house was his way of asking you out as a first time…sort of. And you actually said no."

"And how do you know this?" I challenged.

"Obsessive longing makes a person do strange things…" The girl sighed in disapproval and walked away.

He likes me? What messed up world is this? I had never, ever considered that before, because the concept was too ridiculous to even dance around. But still…I was horrified at the fact that he liked someone who dressed like Ugly Betty. I looked down at my clothes. Yep. A white cardigan, a lank, red tank top, and gray striped Bermuda shorts that kept slipping, all of which had been carelessly thrown on this morning. Oh God.

That was the outcome of living with a father who was just as oblivious to fashion as I was.

I needed help. I called my best friend, Leah Clearwater.

"Leah? I need your help."

"On what?"

I gulped. "My closet."

"Finally!" she yelled exultantly.


A/N: Ha. Bet you didn't expect that. Bella and Leah as BFFs. Ha, ha, ha.

So like I said before, you don't need to read Hell, a.k.a. French Class to understand this, but you'd probably understand better. And hey, if you're bored…why not give it a try? I'm sure you'd probably want to know what happens between Bella and Edward, don't you? Mais oui!

So review please. And then go read Hell, a.k.a. French Class. :)