Mozzarella And A Typewriter

"Bella!" Jasper, my brother and boss, yelled into the kitchen/ staff room waking me from a writing induced daze "Get off the damn typewriter I need you on till."

"Yes master." I hissed under my breath rushing out front to greet one customer.

"Thank you for choosing Mozzarella how can I help you?" I asked in my best customer friendly voice. The slave driver sat in the corner playing with his phone; yet our parents pay us the same amount.

"12 slice peperoni." My friendly tone was lost on the drunk teenager who practically threw the twenty at me. I threw a glare to my brother as I gave him the change. Was I really wasting the little time before my deadline so he could text some whore he met at the local 'bike' club last night.

"Five minutes sir." Jasper ignored me as I shoved past him back into the other room. Katya was still washing up in silence at the small sink beside our safe when I walked back in. I moved into the small space between said safe and our dough machine where we chop the veg on a Tuesday. The past two days it's been taken up by the typewriter I bought at a yard sale. According to the owner it once belonged to an editor of the New York Times; that kind of sold it to me to be honest.

"You need a laptop." Angela, the head chef and one of my oldest friends, laughed grabbing a tray of onions.

"I have one but this just…has a good feeling to it." I grinned over my shoulder "And it's wicked for writers block."

"You're still working for that website?"

"Of course! It's five dollars a hit, and I get a lot of hits." It's a website for short stories and I have no idea how it works. I don't get paid much but anything over a dollar is enough and right now I need it.

"You're still under Mozzarella And A Typewriter?"

"Suits don't it?"

She laughed as another order docket printed "Back to mozzarella and a pizza."

I was a shoe scrape away from practically dragging myself up the stairs to our apartment clinging to the banister like a life raft. When they bought it, my parents renovated the upstairs of the Pizzeria into the three bedroomed flat for us to live in; now Jasper and I share it and they live off the profits in Florida in retirement. They pay him full manager wages yet I still have to share a bathroom and listen to his weekend escapades. The living room illuminated at the same time a hiss reached me.

"Oh Eric you're such a vampire." I rolled my eyes as I spoke to my cat and went to drop my hat on his head as usual until I spied him across the room; lounging on someone's lap.

"Hello?" I asked frozen a foot into the room my hat dangling from my finger.

"You seem shocked to see me here?" A man rose in the blink of an eye Eric, now on the floor, meowed in annoyance. I reached for the baseball bat I hid behind the couch after one of Jasper's conquests turned up love sick at three am. Police never do come quickly enough. He appeared in front of me before I could even swing the bat and pulled me flush against him.

"Excuse me!" I growled pulling my fist back to punch him square in the jaw but I paused halfway. The man whose arms I was held in suddenly became familiar. His white open shirt had barely a crinkle and skin cool and pale. I looked up into blood red eyes and found myself reflected.

"E-Edward?" I gasped arm falling "Edward Cullen?"

A cool knuckled grazed my face "Did you forget I slept here last night?"

"No." and it wasn't a lie because he did sleep here last night, in my fictional apartment; in the story I was writing for the website. The man before me was Edward Cullen alright; the Edward Cullen from my Vampire romance online fiction.