AN: Hey, guys! I miss the thrill of posting new writing. (: This is something I've been writing for a while, now, and have contemplated posting... guess I'm finally doing it! It's a dramatization based off of my real life…except that I'm not a legal adult (I decided to make it more futuristic :)) and I changed the names to Edward and Bella and the gang so it would still be counted as Twilight fan fiction. I wrote this story when I was fourteen, and now I'm sixteen and a lot more critical about my writing, so if I don't post for a long time after writing this, it's probably because I'm rewriting and editing to make the story turn out the exact way I want it to. Let me know what you think!


"All these years and I still remember your favorite chocolate," he smiled.

I couldn't help it. My mouth stretched into a grin as I looked down at the box of Ferrero Rochers.

"You haven't changed a bit," he added, sounding a little relieved.

He sat back; arms folded under his head, and closed his eyes. I took the moment to study him and how we had ended up here.

There were the same emerald green eyes, unusual bronze hair, decent eyebrows, and straight nose. Girlier eyelashes, like he'd always had. He was muscled, but not ripped like a football player. A little lankiness, I noticed. Some jock-like tendencies even though high school had long been over. I could see no imperfections in him yet, but from what I remember, he was obsessed with sports. All his girlfriends had been on the school teams and he himself had been on three. He was just another shallow, self-centered guy. So why, exactly, was he so significant to my eyes? Out of all people…

His name was Edward. We had grown up together, but like all "friends," we'd parted ways. Not when we left for college, though. We'd barely graduated middle school when it happened. I used to tell myself that it was because of puberty, but the "puberty" lasted throughout all our high school years and our post secondary years so far, too. Gee, I felt so appreciated.

Right now, I was an editor with, actually, a really good salary. I had a bit of a reputation going for me, but not so much that everyone would recognize me before I even entered a public place. My job completely reflected my personality, since I was fun-loving, but quiet around people I didn't know, and I'd been a bookworm in school. I had a well-furnished apartment here in LA, and had caught up with four (yes, four!) of my childhood friends as we all had decided to move to the "land of opportunities" for/after college. Coincidence, right? Not for the most part. Our parents had it all planned out—maybe they were a little overprotective of us. But hey, we weren't complaining. We'd been best friends forever and it was nice to be together again. We still had our separate colleague friends, but I hoped we were in it forever.

Yes, Edward. You haven't taken away my ability to hope.

He'd knocked on my door early this Saturday morning, and to say I was surprised would be an understatement. I mean, what would you do if the guy who hasn't talked to you in eight years shows up at your house? I would have thrown my toothbrush at him, which I was conveniently holding in my hand while I'd answered the door...

But get this—I was happy to see him. Almost ecstatic, actually. The twinge of anger I'd felt before was just that- a twinge. If my friends had been there, they would've flipped out. All of us had been good friends, and they thought it was idiotic of him to distance himself from us.

So, back to my question. Why was I happy? Why was I smiling at him? Why didn't I chuck my toothbrush? The Complicated Life…of Isabella Marie Swan.

AN: This was short, but it was a sneak peak. If you like it, please review! I will continue posting if I get feedback. (: