A/N: Some one-shots I'll be doing as I practice and try to improve my writing and explore some character situations. Some one-shots may be further edited and incorporated into future stories.

Explanation for title: The title is a misspelling/pun of both "You're in (a) perfect world" and "Your imperfect world" (and yes, the either is also on purpose). The title is jipped from a friend. One of the goals of writing this story is exploring the minute differences between a "perfect world" and an "imperfect world". However, this will not be something like "a brave new world" which explored the imperfections and dysfunctionalities of an utopia. Rather, we each have some idea of a person living a "perfect" life - usually, this person is a celebrity of sorts. Some of us may think that they themselves are living the "perfect" life. I'm hoping that this story, despite the years it'll take to finish and the numerous incongruences in my writing style, will be able to play around fluff and mess around with my Edward's idea of the "perfect" life.

All recognizable characters, plots, settings, etc belong to their rightful owners. (applies for all future oneshots as well).

The phone rang, its shrill sound echoing throughout the small two-room apartment. Once. Twice. The third time, a pillow was thrown haphazardly across the room. It nudged the phone, silencing its cries.

Two minutes later, its sound again pierced the air. Another pillow flew from the bed with greater force. This time, the phone was knocked off the table.

All was quiet for five minutes. And the sound of bells echoed through the room. With a growl, Bella stumbled out of bed, cursing as she fumbled over her cell phone. She tripped over her feet, landing heavily on the ground. "Bella! I'm so glad you're finally up!"

"You must be in Hell, to think I'm up," Bella muttered.


"I said 'good morning,'" she tried again. When Alice told her to speak up, she cursed. She had the wrong side of the phone to her ear.

"You better have a perfect reason to wake me up at…" she squinted at the clock, "six in the morning. Or you better start organizing your own funeral. I stayed up until three finishing an article for the Gazette."

"Don't be a spoil sport." Bella snorted.

"Don't beat around the bush. What's got your birds a-chirping?"

"I'm having a dance tonight."

Bella groaned. "And I am not going."

"But – "

"No. Last charity ball I went to, a man was convinced I was six and wanted to know what I was doing past my bedtime!" Bella sighed. "Six, Alice. Do I really look that young?" Alice ignored her.

"The Hales will be there. And Mr. Edward Cullen. They only contributed three thousand between them last time…"

"Not going, period." A sob came from the phone. "But Alice, this is the third time you gave me notice the day of!" Another sob. Bella could almost imagine Alice pouting, her big brown eyes wide, tears welling. She groaned again, relenting. "You owe me big time for this." The excited shriek from the other side told her all she needed to know: there was no backing out of this now.

Seven-thirty, sharp, Bella was released from Alice's make-up torture and stood in front of the door of the grand ballroom where the party was taking place. The faint notes of a sparkling waltz greeted her at the entrance. It was, perhaps, the only reason she tolerated these 'rich' social events. She could dance to a waltz, a foxtrot, or even a gavotte, but she absolutely failed at the 'grinding' that was the most popular kind of dance nowadays. People got hurt when she tried.

She poured herself a glass of punch and strolled over to a table partially hidden by the colossal columns placed around the dance floor. She surveyed the multitude of multi-millionaires and billionaires dancing. The rich kept their enemies close, but their checkbooks closer. Her friend was among the few who tried to 'spread the wealth', as she called it. Bella drained her cup, standing up to retrieve more. Her friend could've done with less irritable and arrogant people. Many scrunched their noses when she walked near as if she was a distasteful fishmonger. She sniffed. Just because she wasn't among 'the rich' didn't mean she had to be scorned.

"Hello Miss." Bella started. Glancing up, she saw a tall man standing beside her, scrutinizing her with a pair of sharp green eyes.

"Yes?" she replied.

"I am looking for someone here. Perhaps you know her? She is named Isabella," he answered calmly, his eyes straying to the crowd.

"There probably is more than one Isabella around here." That was true. Rich people seemed to favor old-style names. Something about bringing them closer to nobility.

"She's probably around your age… and I've heard she prefers Bella."

"What do you need her for?"

The man laughed dryly. "Need her? I'm trying to keep an eye on her so she doesn't make me one of her targets!"


"Because the fox can wiggle a nickel from a beggar!"

Bella frowned. "You're talking about donations?" At his nod, she shrugged. "She must be quite clever, if she could extract such outstanding sums." She nodded toward a plump girl on the far side of the room. His eyes followed hers. "She doesn't look it, does she?"

The man shook his head.

"How much did you donate?"

"Five thousand," he answered proudly. Bella snorted.

"You people. Swimming in millions and you consider a mere five thousand to be a lot? It's for the homeless and all the orphanages around the city!" He raised an eyebrow at her outburst. She raised her own eyebrow in reply. She gestured for him to sit. "If you see a business deal worth a million dollars' investment, would you take it?" He blinked, the abrupt subject change left him unbalanced.

"If I think it's worth it? Of course!"

"Even if it failed and you didn't get a penny in return?" she prompted.

"No regrets. A million dollars isn't that much." Bella smiled.

"A million won't leave you heartbroken?" He shook his head, no.

"Alice!" she called out. The hostess visiting the punch table turned. With a cheerful wave, she walked over.


"I have found you a most wonderous donor. Mr. –" Bella looked toward the man.

"Edward," he supplied, confused.

"Mr. Edward here would like to donate a million to your charity." She was instantly met with two pairs of saucer-sized eyes. Alice turned to the man.

"The charity thanks you sincerely for your most generous donation," she told him.

Awkwardly and unwillingly, he pulled out a checkbook and pulled Bella aside. "I don't recall having agreed to such a sum."

"But you said that losing a million won't hurt you."

"That's because –" Bella stared at him, a secretive smile tugging her lips. He dug himself that hole.

Grudgingly, he wrote a check. When he handed it over, he glared at Bella. "Consider it... a failed business deal," she told him.

"I would watch my back if I were you, Miss Bella," he hissed.

She grinned. "I wait eagerly for your worst," she said simply, bobbing a mock curtsey.

Not completely positive all of the plot details are mine. May have read something like this years and years ago, for some of the phrases to end up in the section of my notebook that's marked 2003. Hope you enjoyed it.