Sofram

1. NEW YEAR’S EVE 2008
He leaned against the balcony, his hands folded and his forearms
supporting his weight. He stared unseeing over the lip of the railing,
watching people mingle in the backyard, laughing and toasting each other.
A half-finished Amstel Light was perched next to him; his long fingers
kept curling around the neck as his thoughts took him over the past year.
Disturbia pulsed through the speakers of the house; the bass nearly
vibrated his chest. He was in the middle of a full blown New Year’s Eve
bash, and he couldn’t even enjoy himself. He was both sad and happy to
see 2008 go; it had, undoubtedly, changed his life for the good and the
bad. Yet, as always, he was ready for change, to see what the future –
what 2009 – had in store for him.
He ran his hands atop his newly shorn hair, missing the feel of the locks
through his fingers. It was something attainable for him to grab onto when
words and thoughts failed him; it was a symbol that people understood as
him fumbling, and they would choose to either pass over the question,
laugh, or swoon.
His year came back to him in flashes – literally, a dominant part of his
year was spent in front of flash bulbs. Pictures, paparazzi, pandemonium.
The three P’s, he had always called them. The reason he was completely
uncomfortable with his job. He tried to think of anything but the real
reason that 2008 stuck out like the elephant in the room, but it was all
wrapped up in her.
Frustrated that his thoughts had taken him there again, he pushed off the
balcony to walk back inside the party that Nikki had dragged him to. It
was in the middle of a ritzy LA neighborhood, and all he wanted to do
was get back to his new apartment and stare up at the ceiling – maybe
silently chant Auld Lang Synge just for good measure.
“It’s freezing.”
His neck snapped up and there she stood, looking like she belonged out
there on the balcony with him. The thought made him angry and sad; she
always had a way of fitting effortlessly into his life, no matter how long it
had been.

2. “I can’t feel the cold,” he told her honestly, watching as she bit the bottom
of her lip and looked away.
“Mind if I join you?” she asked finally, holding up two Sweetwater 420’s.
“Where did you get those?” he asked gleefully, and she walked towards
him in triumph, handing him the beer that was hard to find on California
shelves.
“Had the company ship some to me,” she shrugged. “I didn’t know you
already had a beer.”
He looked at the half-empty Amstel Light that he had been nursing
moodily. “I don’t,” he told her, and poured it over the railing. It fizzed on
the asphalt below, and splattered a couple who immediately looked
around for the culprit.
Kristen laughed, but then sobered quickly. “I haven’t seen you in –“
“Over a month,” he finished, his hard edges coming back in full swing.
The silence fell between them; he could hear her swallowing the beer and
it was the only noise between them for quite some time.
“You’ve ruined other men for me,” she told him finally, not even turning
to look at him as she said the most honest thing she had ever said about
him.
He didn’t ask her to elaborate; he didn’t need to. If she meant it at all like
he felt it, he knew exactly what she meant – he couldn’t see another
woman without comparing her critically to Kristen. It was sick, and it
definitely wasn’t helping him move on, but it was almost involuntary –
like breathing.
She didn’t seem bothered by his lack of response; in fact, it seemed to
encourage her. “There’s this old adage that says that whoever you’re with
when the clock strikes twelve on New Year’s Day, you will be with for the
whole rest of the year.”

3. He checked the time on his cell phone – it was 11:57, and people were
starting to buzz excitedly. “I expect you’ll want to get inside, then,” he
told her, bringing the bottle back to his lips but not at all tasting the beer
slide down his throat.
He watched her bite on the inside of her lip; she was obviously frustrated,
but he had no idea what she wanted him to say to that. He thought he had
always been good at reading people’s meanings, and if she had been any
other girl, he would have known that she was talking about wanting to be
him. But with her, he had obviously misread a year’s worth of signals, and
that had brought him to his not-quite-heartbroken but not-quite-happy
state.
She sighed angrily, letting out a huff of air all in one breath. He watched
the cloud of hot air shoot out of her mouth, and it made him shiver in a
way that had nothing to do with the 30 degree temperature. She looked
absolutely lovely, in a sparkly black dress and modest heels, with a long
pea coat thrown over her small body. Her hair was different – it was curly,
styled – and she had the most irresistible smoky eyes and nude lips.
“It’s 11:59,” he warned her again, his phone already starting to vibrate
with wishes for a happy new year.
She didn’t budge, only looked at him through her dark-lidded eyes, and his
blood began to hum through his veins. He could actually feel it pounding
in his throat, like he was some stupid fucking teenager.
“Ten, nine, eight…”
People inside the house began counting down, and he started to get
frantic.
“Kristen, really, get back inside of the house,” he urged her, moving away.
“Five, four, three…” she chanted softly, not moving towards him, but
pinning him with her eyes.
“Go!” he shouted.
“Two, one.”

4. Inside of the house erupted with cheers and Auld Lang Synge played from
the TV. People were hugging and kissing and toasting, but she stood still,
staring at him steadily as he tried to take in all of the implications of her
actions.
Fireworks began popping in the distance; he could hear drunken roars and
laughing as people had their own fireworks show in their yard. Over the
hills of the Valley, he could see fireworks – the real kind – bursting in reds,
greens, blues, golds.
Suddenly, she was next to him again. “See the fireworks?” she asked,
nodding her head towards the blinding lights.
“Yes,” he said quietly, finding her so beautiful that it was difficult to look
at her for very long. She turned to look at him, and he could see the light
reflected in her green irises. Without thinking, he touched his fingertips to
the delicate skin under her eye.
“I know what I’m doing,” she told him quietly, and he didn’t have a
chance to ask her what she meant by that before her soft lips met his. It
was very quick, very fleeting, like a butterfly had ghosted his lips, or a rose
petal had been traced across them. He could barely taste the beer on her
lips, but he could feel her breath on his face as she breathed out against his
mouth. Their lips didn’t even part, just pressed, and it was so sweet and
achingly gentle that he heard his own breath hitch as she pulled back
much too soon.
“Happy New Year, Rob,” she said quietly. She smiled at him; her
footsteps were unsteady, unsure – but he found that he couldn’t stable her,
because he was just as… dazzled. She picked her beer up off the lip of the
balcony and walked back into the celebration.
“Happy New Year, Kristen,” he whispered after a moment, touching his
lips like a stupid girl.
Yeah, 2008 had definitely changed his life for the good and the bad.
He just hoped that 2009 would change everything.

5. December 2007
She looked like a doll. Like a tiny, porcelain doll. That was his first
impression of her, as he walked into Catherine Hardwicke’s house and
saw her perched on the counter.
She locked eyes with him immediately and smiled, but as she was on her
cell phone, she didn’t speak. He could hear her voice murmuring in a low
alto, which was rich in a way that most female voices weren’t. He was
used to the female soprano, but her alto made its way into his ear drums
and settled itself there.
She had a bottle of water in her lap, and she was chewing on her
thumbnail without actually biting it. She looked like a child, like a little
girl to him. He hadn’t actually researched her age; he figured she would be
in her twenties like him – but this, this girl couldn’t be a day older than
nineteen.
Catherine chattered away to him excitedly, telling him that it had been
narrowed down to three men and that he was the last to audition. She said
they had nearly given up on him; his flight was desperately late, and he
smiled apologetically in her direction.
He heard the alto voice utter I love you into the phone, and he groaned
internally. Maybe he didn’t want to do a movie with a girl who was
already attached. Especially a movie with such an exaggerated romance.
But then she hopped down off the counter, landing gracefully on the balls
of her feet, and he couldn’t stop looking at her petite form.
She wasn’t necessarily beautiful, but she easily could be. Her skin was pale
and her hair was brown, but her eyes were a cutting green that sliced their
image into his brain. She was dressed in an old Fuddruckers t-shirt and cut
offs, and she looked very, very tired.
Still, when she reached him, she smiled up at him with one eye half
closed. She worked her jaw a bit on her grin, and then said, “Hi, I’m
Kristen.”

6. He held his hand out to her, an automatic gesture. “Rob,” he answered.
“Good to meet you.”
She grinned at him like she had a thousand secrets he would never find
out.
“Let’s do this,” called Catherine, motioning for them to join her in the
living room.
Kristen moved to get around Rob, but he did that awkward thing where he
moved in the same direction as she. She quickly adjusted, moving to the
other side, but he followed her, trying to clear room. They repeated that
for about three more times before she laughed.
“Steady,” she told him, placing her small, pale hand on his forearm.
“Follow me.”
*
“Bella, you’ve got to go to Jacksonville, so I can’t hurt you anymore.”
They were together on Catherine’s couch; Kristen lying down on her back
like she was in a hospital bed. Rob sat to the side, his script perched on his
knee just in case he needed a point of reference.
“What- what are you saying – NO!” Kristen argued, balling up her fists
and shaking her head. “No! No. You can’t leave me.”
“I’m here,” he soothed her, taking her hand into his. God, she was good.
She tried to calm herself down, but her face was still bunched up in some
sort of internal burning.
“I’m here,” he repeated, stroking the soft skin of her face. He ran his
fingertips underneath her eyes, and even though the touching wasn’t in the
script, she turned her face to nuzzle into his palm.
“Okay,” she said slowly, her breathing coming back down. “You just can’t
say things like that to me. Ever.”

7. Rob thought the next line in his head – I’ll stay as long as it’s good for you
– but what came out was nothing like it.
“Where else am I going to go?” he whispered.
Kristen stiffened, Catherine breathed out heavily.
“That’s perfect,” Kristen told Catherine, switching back to her former self
almost immediately. “That’s the perfect thing to say there. We have to
change it.”
Catherine was already two steps ahead; she was scribbling furiously onto
her battered script. “Where did that come from?” she asked Rob, biting the
end of the pen. “You have no idea how long we’ve battled with that line.”
“It was just so cheesy,” Kristen agreed, sitting up and reaching for her
water. “I mean, God, who says that? I’ll stay as long as it’s good for you?
Really, Edward?” She rolled her eyes.
Rob couldn’t help but grin at her; he felt an alliance already forming, and
he hadn’t even gotten the part yet. She didn’t want this movie to be as
stupid and as obsessive as the book, either. She resented the perfectness of
Edward Cullen as much as he did.
“What about here?” he asked, flipping back quite a few pages to the
meadow scene. “I wrote some notes, take a look…”
Kristen held her hand out for the script, and he handed it over, ready for
the scrutiny to begin. He didn’t exactly write notes – he scratched the
entirety of the dialog out and wrote SILENT SEX in bold letters at the top
of the page.
He watched her murmur the words silent sex and the way the x made a
noise in the back of her throat intrigued him. She turned her head up to
him, and all she did was watch his eyes.
He met her gaze back evenly, a little intimidated by her now. She had it,
she got it, and he wanted her to understand and accept his version of it,
too.

8. “You can really see me, can’t you?” she asked finally, making a V with her
pointer and middle finger and putting it below her eyes.
“Right now, I can’t see anything but you,” he answered honestly.
She bit on her bottom lip; it was the first time he saw her do that. “Silent
sex,” she murmured, then turned to look at Catherine. “Mind if we move
some furniture?”
*
They laid on the floor of Catherine’s living room for almost a full half an
hour before Catherine had seen what they were trying to convey to her.
She had said no way when Kristen told her that all of the dialog had to be
cut from the meadow scene, but now, she was saying yes, yes, absolutely.
They laid side by side, Kristen’s hands on her stomach and Rob’s arms by
his side. They didn’t touch at all, but they looked. He looked at her for so
long he felt that, if he had any sort of artist in him, he could paint a perfect
picture of her and get all of the shadows and blushes and freckles correctly.
He stared into her eyes and he felt himself slip into Edward Cullen; he felt
himself begging to be able to read her mind. She stared back unabashedly,
and he watched the rise and fall of her tiny breasts against the worn cotton
of her t-shirt.
Their breathing was quiet; the silence was reverential. He felt like he
should be praying; he felt like he was worshipping. This girl – she had told
him that she was only seventeen – this child was phenomenal. She had
things going on behind her eyes that not even the most self-assured 40-
something could possess. She just knew – what she knew, he had no idea,
but that was hardly the point.
He reached out and brushed his knuckles against her bare thigh, and she
shivered.
Silent sex.
*
“I have dogs, so excuse the smell,” Catherine said lightly as she flipped on
the lights to her bedroom. “But I need you two to get on the bed.”

9. “Why?” Rob asked, surprised.
“I want to do the love scene,” Catherine answered calmly. “So I hope you
brought some breath mints.”
Kristen was actually smiling; he found that weird – did she not just tell an
anonymous person that she loved them earlier than afternoon? Maybe it
was her mom, he thought – he found himself hoping that it was.
“I have gum,” she told him quietly. “But you smoke, don’t you? I can
smell it on your clothes.”
“Sorry,” he said quickly. It was the first time that he been embarrassed of
it.
She shook her head, inhaling. “Marlboro 100’s, am I right?”
He nodded, impressed. “You have the addiction, too?”
She chewed on her bottom lip, smiling slightly. “I’ve been trying to quit.
I’ve actually gone two days. But I’m afraid once I taste you, I’ll be a
goner.” She flushed immediately at her statement, realizing exactly how
that sounded and how he could take that however he wanted.
“Let’s do this,” Catherine announced, proffering a handheld video camera
right into their faces. “Rob, you start.”
Kristen leaned towards him on the bed, anticipating the start of the scene.
She wasn’t nervous, he could tell – and that made him feel like shit,
because he was unbelievably nervous.
“I just want to try one thing,” he recited from memory. He moved his face
in, and she leaned into him too quickly – the kiss was supposed to be
achingly slow. “Stay very still,” he improvised, and she froze.
Her lips were soft and warm, and it was the most pleasant kiss he’d ever
shared with practically a stranger. It wasn’t a sloppy kiss in a bar, it wasn’t
an open-mouthed pant of a fuck – it was sweet, it was kiddish, it was
tender.

10. And that was all it was supposed to be, until she got up onto her knees and
gripped her hands tightly into his hair. She turned their sweet meeting of
lips into an all-consuming attack. She radiated passion, and his hands
involuntarily placed themselves on her small hips as he picked her slightly
up and put her back against the bed. She didn’t try to use her tongue once,
and he loved that – too much tongue was such a buzz kill, and she seemed
to be as fascinated with his lips as he was with hers.
Remembering himself, he backed up and gasped out, “Stop!” Edward
Cullen was back in control – almost. He adjusted his jeans quickly, but not
quickly enough, because Kristen smiled at him and completely missed her
next line.
*
He was on his way back from the bathroom when he heard her low voice
arguing with Catherine.
“It has to be him,” she said simply. “I won’t do it with anyone else. It’d be
such a lie. Did you see him? He took notes. He improvised better than
Edward Cullen himself could have.”
“I liked him, too, Kristen, but we’ve got three others that are nearly as
good –“
“Nearly as good,” Kristen agreed simply. “But not as good. It has to be
him.”
*
Catherine pulled him aside before he left that day, confirming to him
quietly that he had the part. She would contact his agent later and make it
official. He smiled and thanked her, but he saw some sort of warning
behind her eyes. Before he could ask, she volunteered.
“She’s only seventeen,” she said bluntly. “And her boyfriend is one of my
good friends. Don’t chase after her.”
When he walked outside, he saw Kristen sitting on the porch, a long white
cigarette dangling from her fingers. She smiled wryly at him, holding up
her pack of Marlboro 100’s in a mock salute.

11. “I’m a goner,” she laughed quietly.
January 2008
She stared moodily out into the bitter cold Oregon night, sucking down
the nicotine and letting the smoke curl up in front of her. She was perched
on the balcony connected to the conference center of the Hampton Inn,
knowing that her presence was probably required. It was a meet-the-cast
party, after all. But she just couldn’t find the energy to mingle with all of
those exhausting people.
“Kristen?”
It was a female’s voice; it sounded straight out of a California valley. She
turned and saw Nikki Reed hanging out of the sliding glass door, looking
at her expectantly.
“Yeah?” Kristen asked shortly, stubbing out the cigarette with her Vans.
Nikki was the most exhausting person of them all.
“Rob’s finally arrived, so Catherine wants us all in there now.”
Kristen nodded and tried to smile. Nikki waited nearly fifteen seconds, like
she was expecting Kristen to follow her immediately. When Kristen didn’t
move, Nikki shrugged. Kristen swore she heard her mutter, more Rob
meat for me, then.
When the cold finally became too much and it felt like ice water was
running through her veins, she stepped back inside the well-lit conference
center. She couldn’t see above many heads, but she could guess where
Rob was, because there was a huge cluster fuck of people surrounding the
door. She decided to hang back and possibly greet him later, if at all.
Grabbing a plate, she made her way to the assembly line of food and made
herself a Caesar salad.
She munched noisily on the crisp Iceberg lettuce. She was annoyed at
everything – the lettuce, because it was too watery, she liked the dark
green stuff; Nikki, for talking so unbelievably loud about how happy she

12. was to finally meet him; Rob himself, for causing so much commotion by
his mere presence.
She added pepper to her salad, trying to ignore the buzzing of voices that
seemed to be getting louder and louder.
She smelled him before she saw him; damn him, always smelling like her
addiction. The tobacco radiated off of his skin, but he also smelled clean,
somehow. The combination made her dizzy.
“Good to see you again,” he told her, sitting down next to her without
being invited.
She smiled vaguely at him, crunching the vegetables extra loud.
“How were your holidays?” he asked, swiping at the side of her plate to
catch the salad dressing that was dripping onto the table.
“Fine,” she said. She didn’t know why she felt such an undercurrent of
resentment towards him; he had been perfectly lovely and friendly and
gorgeous a month earlier and had done nothing at all to deserve her wrath.
But that didn’t mean she could help it.
“Mine were great,” he said enthusiastically, and then he went off into his
land of stories that involved a bar fight and Christmas presents. She tried
to pin point the change in him, staring into his face as he immediately
opened himself up to her. He was like a book, no – like a fairy tale, all
light and white knights and happy endings.
Then she realized the change – it wasn’t he that changed, necessarily. It
was they who had changed, reversed roles. At the audition, Rob had been
quiet and brooding and Kristen had been sweet and laughing. Now it was
just the opposite, and the fact that she found herself smiling at his
descriptions irritated her irrationally.
“Rob?” she said, breaking him off in mid-sentence. “I know we don’t
know each other very well – well, we don’t know each other at all. So I’m
just telling you now, I can’t stand when people talk to me while I eat.”

13. She watched the light leave his face as his laughter died from the back of
his throat. “Oh,” he said finally, looking awkwardly down at his fingers.
“I’ll just… leave you at it, then.”
She nodded. “Thanks.”
He got up stiffly. “By the way, you’ve got lettuce in your teeth.”
Her hand shot to her mouth immediately, feeling a piece of crunchy
iceberg between her two front teeth. Fucking iceberg, she thought, hating
it even more now.
He had almost made it all the way down the row of chairs before he
stopped on a dime, turned, and walked back up towards her. He was
fiddling with an old, beat up iPod – he handed it to her and she took it
without thinking.
“Try some Voxtrott,” he recommended, putting the ear buds into her ears
without permission. “They always chill me the fuck out exactly when I
need it.”
She smiled up at him close-mouthed, not wanting the lettuce to show
again. He realized what she was doing and smiled with his whole face.
“Good to see you again,” he repeated from earlier.
“It is,” she agreed. Not it was.
Nikki’s voice called out to Rob, and he turned towards the sound.
“I’ll be there in a second,” he said amicably. He looked back down at
Kristen, and it was like he noticed her hesitation. “Just press play,” he
advised her. “That’s all you’ve got to do.”
Just press play.
January 2008
“Just try it,” she told him, holding out a beer bottle with a green label.
“It’s good, I promise.”

14. He looked at her skeptically. “Anything called Sweetwater just doesn’t
appeal to me.”
Rolling her eyes, she searched through a drawer in her new kitchen,
looking for a bottle opener. She had finally moved in to her new
apartment, just off the main road in Portland. It was small and a bit musty
smelling, but she was grateful for a place to call home.
“Bella, we shouldn’t be friends.”
Still rummaging through the drawer, she answered, “You really should
have figured that out before. That way, you could save yourself all this
regret.”
Rob groaned. “I’ll stump you sooner or later.”
Her hand finally found the bottle opener, and she grabbed it in triumph.
“I’ll let you stump me if you just try this beer. Please.”
He looked offended. “I’m designed to kill.”
She gasped. “Oh, Edward! You know I don’t care, just so long as we have
extreme vampire sex beforehand.”
He crooked his eyebrow at her, defeated. “Fine, give me the beer.”
She grinned, handing the bottle opener over to him. He popped off the cap
with practiced ease, and then poured the beer into his mouth. He tasted it
like he was a connoisseur, swishing it around his mouth and letting it
linger on his tongue before swallowing.
“That’s the best kind of sex,” he said eventually, taking another sip out of
the bottle.
Her eyebrows collided. “What kind?”
“The kind where you get to kill the girl afterwards.”
She looked up in alarm, but he was grinning at her over the top of the beer
that he had placed to his lips.

15. Rolling her eyes for the umpteenth time that night, she hissed sexy with as
much sarcasm as she could muster. “You like the beer, don’t you?”
He didn’t answer; he was too busy sucking the bottle dry.
February 2008
They passed the bowl back and forth over her dining room table. The first
two days of pre-production had been productive, with them pouring over
the script and rehearsing and making notes and talking business. Now that
pre-production was over and the first day of filming began tomorrow, they
were both trying to calm their nerves and squelch their fears.
“I’m ugly,” he said finally, breaking through the silence and the thick
cloud of sweet smoke that flowed between them.
“Hmmm,” she said, putting the pipe to her lips and flicking the lighter
over the sticky, green substance. She sucked in, closing her eyes as the
hazy feeling took her over and over again. They had been smoking on and
off since he had arrived with the small plastic bag over two hours ago. She
was so fucking stoned she could barely move. She blew the smoke out of
her mouth, watching Rob watch her.
“Your lips look nice when you do that,” he told her, reaching across the
table for the purple pipe.
She forgot that she even had lips. Touching them with the ends of her
tingling fingers, she said, “Your lips are always red.”
“They’re always chapped,” he told her, and she watched as they wrapped
around the end of the pipe. He inhaled, but didn’t close his eyes as she
always did.
“What were we talking about?” she asked finally, her brain not being able
to process anything. She felt like she was solely there to watch the way the
smoke curl out of Rob’s lips; when he blew out, they puckered like he was
blowing her a kiss.
He handed the bowl back to her. She decided to take only one more hit;
she almost felt nauseas from being so high.

16. “I’m ugly,” he said again, putting his face in his hands. It would have been
a very dramatic gesture, but he made it seem so natural. Like he was some
sort of tortured soul. “I’m going to fail.”
“I’m never smoking with you again if this is how you get,” she told him,
letting the hit she took wrap up her insides.
He looked up from his hands and smiled slightly at her. “I’m ugly.”
She sighed, rubbing her face with her hands. God, everything was numb.
“No, you’re not.”
“So you’re worried not because you’ll be in a house full of vampires, but
because you think they won’t approve of you.”
She wracked her brain for the next line, but it just wouldn’t surface.
“Fuck.”
He grinned stupidly. “Gotcha.”
*
He didn’t know how to drive; he mentioned that to Kristen offhandedly
one day, not realizing the rippling effect it would have. Nikki overheard
and offered to drive him to and from set everyday – they were living in the
same complex, after all.
Nikki was undeniably beautiful and warm, if not overenthusiastic. He was
flattered by her attention already, and they had only been around each
other for a few weeks. She had killer taste in music and could make a joke
out of anything, and he enjoyed being around her. But naturally, he
always had the option of being around her, which made being around her
less appealing.
The morning after smoking with Kristen all night, he was awakened by his
shitty cell phone’s generic ring. It was 6:03 AM, according the red lights of
his alarm clock, and he fumbled on his night stand before picking it up on
the last ring.
“Hello?”

17. “Do you feel as shitty as I do right now?”
It was Kristen’s voice, full of sleep and ragged. Her usual alto seemed to
have dropped another octave, and it came out gravelly and just a bit too
sexy for a seventeen year old.
All he did was grunt in response; he wasn’t a morning person – not even
for her, despite being slightly cheered by hearing her voice before anyone
else’s that day. That thought was odd to him, but it was easily categorized
by the easy friendship they had formed. He was just comfortable around
her.
”Exactly,” she sighed, and he could hear rumpling of her sheets. God, she
was still in bed talking to him. “So, listen, do you want a ride today? I
know you told me you can’t drive on purpose.”
He quickly ran through his mind the possibility of calling Nikki and telling
her that he found another ride. But that was improbable because a) it was
more convenient to get a ride with her and b) he didn’t want to cause
drama the first day by showing up with his taken co-star.
“Nikki’s offered to give me a ride to and from the set,” he said shortly.
She paused very briefly before saying, “Oh.” Another pause and then,
“Did I tell you that Michael is coming up for Valentine’s Day?”
He cringed. So that was how it was going to be. He wasn’t exactly a
genius, but he knew enough to realize that she had no other reason to tell
him that at 6 AM except to get back at him. To gain the upper hand.
Here’s to the start of a beautiful friendship, he thought wryly.
*
“Is that your O-face?” Rob asked her later that day, and then mimicked
the way her mouth gaped and eyes crossed as Edward sucked the venom
out of her arm.
Unperturbed, she held out her cigarette to be lit. He flicked at the lighter
and set it to the edge of her smoke, and she inhaled. “No,” she said
simply.

18. Her answer bothered him a lot more than it should have.
“How’s your groin?” she asked him after a moment, stubbing out the
cigarette on the wet asphalt.
“Chafed,” he said sadly, holding out his hand to help her up. She didn’t
take it, didn’t even act like she saw it.
Her phone was going off, and he already recognized the Sufjan Stevens
ringtone as her boyfriend’s. She watched him as she answered, looking
into his eyes as she called her boyfriend baby. He didn’t know if she was
trying to be cruel, or if she even realized what she was doing, or if she was
trying to tell him how it was.
But it wasn’t like he needed reminding, anyway. He had enjoyed the car
ride with Nikki that morning a lot more than he anticipated; she greeted
him at his door with her freshly dyed blonde hair, looking prettier and
fresher than anyone had the right to at 7 AM. She had entertained him all
the way there with upbeat music and frivolous chatter.
When Kristen emerged from her trailer in her Bella clothes, he had to give
himself a moment to look at her before making his presence known. She
looked… ten times more innocent, more insecure… easier to love. Her
usual wardrobe consisted of baggy shirts and cotton shorts, but in Bella’s
skinny jeans and tight cotton shirts – she looked tempting, in a demure
way.
Pretty.
“If you were dating a girl for two years, what would you want for
Valentine’s Day?” she asked him then, as they walked back to the sound
stage. She was carefully holding out her right arm, trying not to mess up
the “blood” makeup that was her vampire bite.
He looked down at her, feeling their age gap. That was such a high school
question, and how the fuck was he supposed to know what her boyfriend
wanted for Valentine’s Day? He hated Valentine’s Day. So that was the
answer he went with.

19. “Nothing,” he said honestly, holding the door open for her as they stepped
back in the darkened sound stage. “Don’t fucking ask me, Kristen. I don’t
know.”
She sighed angrily. They had only been around each other for about a
month, but he could almost always feel when she was about to say
something cutting, something that would make him take a step back.
Now was one of those times.
“Maybe I’ll let him try anal,” she said viciously, and it immediately
conjured the image of her on all fours in front of him. He cringed, and
watched the swing of her hips as she walked away.
“Bitch,” he hissed quietly.
*
Nikki watched their quiet, intense exchange from a stool behind
Catherine’s chair. Her presence wasn’t required yet; she and Elizabeth
were the only two Cullens’ that weren’t involved in this scene. Still, she
felt a pull towards the set that had very little to do with the actual movie.
Rob had opened the door for Kristen; Nikki had been temporarily blinded
by the glare of the sunlight into the dark room. His head was tipped
toward Kristen’s – she was a good deal shorter than Rob, so it must have
been hard for him to hear her. He looked more than a little annoyed, and
stared down at the crown of her head as he contemplated what he was
going to say to her.
She watched him scowl down at her and watched his lips move with the
response. Kristen’s face flushed immediately, and Nikki watched her
angrily hissed retort. Rob’s movements were actually arrested; he stopped
walking and just watched her retreat, cocking his head like he was taking
inventory. His lips moved in a quiet curse, and she distinctly read the word
bitch.
Kristen Stewart was a bitch; there was no doubt about that. Nikki had
tried to be nice to her everyday, but it just felt like Kristen couldn’t spare a
moment for her. She answered in condescending smiles and little ‘mm-
hmms’ that drove Nikki crazy. She was tight-lipped and high-strung; she

20. always looked like she was on the brink of either crying or screaming. She
was too intense for the seventeen year old girl that she was, and it made
Nikki feel like she didn’t take her job seriously enough.
Rob, on the other hand, was all laughter. If Kristen was the night, dark
and mysterious, then Rob was the morning, all new light and optimism.
She enjoyed his company more than she probably should, and she didn’t
understand why Rob continually sought out Kristen’s attention –
especially when Kristen was attached to Angarano, an old friend of
Nikki’s. But, to be fair, Kristen never really asked for the attention; in fact,
the more Rob paid attention to her, the bitchier and quieter she became.
“Rob!” she heard herself call out, and his head snapped up at the sound.
Nikki waved her arm and Rob’s eyes followed the motion; she felt her
stomach give a happy little lurch when he smiled in recognition.
He began to walk over to her, and she started running ideas through her
head of things she could talk about – what would he find interesting?
What could captivate him? Does he like books? What movies does he like
best? He was almost to her chair when a small brunette form knocked him
off course with a harsh tug on the arm.
“Can I talk to you for a second?” Nikki heard Kristen hiss at Rob,
wrapping her tiny fingers around his forearm. Kristen’s eyes moved
towards Nikki, like she felt the audience – their eyes connected and Nikki
didn’t want to look away, to let Kristen know she would meet her
challenge. But Kristen’s eyes barely stayed on her before they were gone,
communicating that she barely mattered, that she hardly even saw her.
“Is everything all right?” Rob asked, letting Kristen drag him away, not
even sparing a backwards glance to apologize to Nikki.
Nikki’s hand made her way down to her purse, her blood simmering. She
dipped her hand inside of it and pulled out her phone; skimming through
her contacts, she found the M’s and had Michael Angarano highlighted
and the green button underneath her finger within ten seconds. She almost
called him, especially when she looked over and saw the concerned look
on Rob’s face as Kristen gestured angrily at him.

21. She decided against it at the last minute. It was only the first day of
shooting, after all. Rob would get tired of Kristen’s – Bitchsten’s – games
and would need sunshine instead of clouds.
Watch yourself, bitch, Nikki thought to herself, sparing one more glance
in Kristen’s direction.
*
“Can I talk to you for a second?” Kristen asked, grabbing Rob’s arm. She
felt like she was being watched; immediately, she turned her head and saw
Nikki Reed staring at her intently. She was too agitated to care, so she
turned her eyes quickly back onto Rob’s face.
“Is everything all right?” Rob asked her in a low voice, and it irritated her
even further that after their under-the-radar explosion, he still was decent
enough to care about her feelings.
She pulled him off into a far corner, not wanting to be overheard. She had
thought about their conversation for all of two minutes before deciding
that enough was enough; an alliance needed to be formed. She wasn’t an
idiot, there was obviously some sort of underlying issue between them –
whether it was attraction or annoyance wasn’t the matter at hand. It was
the fact that there was something, and it had to be stopped, immediately.
“Look, I know you think I’m a child,” she started, turning to face him. His
eyes looked odd in the topaz colored contacts, and she found it extremely
hard to read him. “And maybe I am, for all intents and purposes. I can’t
drink legally and I can’t smoke legally. I can’t own a house and I can’t join
the military.” She waved her hands in the air, trying to feel the particles
guide her through her speech. “But I’m not an idiot, despite the year I was
born. Maybe the age gap is too much, maybe we can’t be friends. But I’m
going to do this movie right, and you need to be in it with me, one
hundred percent, or it’s not going to work.”
“I am with you-“ he started, but she held up her hand.
“Whatever. Stop for a second. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot; maybe
we shouldn’t hang out like we do. Maybe we shouldn’t talk about random
shit and try each other’s preferred beer or pass a pipe at 2 AM. Maybe
that’s too intimate for the awkward love story we’re trying to create, I

22. don’t know. But this isn’t working for me. I’m not going to have this sort
of tension.” She took a deep breath. “So it’s either all or nothing. We
either play nice or we don’t play at all. We either talk to each other with
respect or we just talk about the movie.”
He scratched his eyebrow absently. She almost had to laugh at the
bouffant hairstyle they had created for him; it was very Elvis. She could
almost feel his urge to run his hands through it, muss it up a bit, just for
something to pull on to. “I don’t respect you yet,” he said honestly after a
moment.
That was a bit of a blow – they had shared things. But whatever, if he was
going to be like that, then she could be like that, too. “Good to know,” she
said sharply. “So that’s how it is, then. Is that clear? We aren’t friends. If
it’s not about the film, then we don’t need to talk.”
His teeth clenched, and she took a short moment to appreciate the way his
jaw line bulged at the corners. “That sounds about right,” he answered
neutrally.
She swallowed hard – she was positive he heard it. That shit hurt more
than she thought it would; but, admittedly, she had expected laughing,
upbeat Rob to commit to being her friend. She wanted his sunshine in her
world, but she didn’t know how to tell him, so she expected him to bring it
in on his own.
What was it about her that brought out the dark side of him? What
irritated him so much that he found it difficult to just want to enjoy her
company? She admitted that sometimes she was a little hard to deal with,
but no one had ever plainly told her that they preferred to not be her
friend.
“Fine,” she said finally, turning away from him. She was three yards away
when she swore she heard her name leave his lips in some sort of somber
fashion, but she didn’t turn around.
*
He jogged through the streets of Portland; his battered iPod in his ears
kept him moving. He had been spending a lot of time to himself lately,
choosing to not go out with the others. Correction – he had gone out once,

23. with Anna and her boyfriend, but the pictures of their drunken encounter
surfaced on the Internet not even two days later, so that gave him all the
more incentive to stay indoors when the filming was over for the day.
Kristen’s boyfriend had been a presence on the set for the past couple of
days, and he would be an idiot if he refused to notice the change in her.
She seemed older when he saw her with a man; it was strange of him to
think of her as only seventeen now. Especially since her boyfriend was in
his twenties, and seemed perfectly well-matched with her. They were a
bright, pulsing light together, and the perpetual smile on her face almost
made him sick.
Once, he had actually heard Kristen giggle. Kristen Stewart – giggling.
It was almost like Nikki knew that it was hard for him to watch, because
she would coo and nod her head towards the couple whenever they
exchanged a brief kiss or a hand squeeze. Rob found himself spending his
time on set with her; she was a breath of fresh air if not a little persistent.
She was easy to be around, which he found as such a relief – Kristen was
difficult to have in his bubble, even when he slipped into Edward Cullen.
Kristen’s Bella was a lot more like Kristen than Stephenie Meyer’s Bella.
Kristen’s Bella was stubborn and resolute, independent and funny, fiery
and strong. Actually, it was hard for him to figure out where Bella began
and Kristen ended, and he found himself nearly stalking her around set,
still in a daze. It was difficult for him to slip out of Edward Cullen as
easily as it was for Kristen to adjust her personality slightly to stop being
Bella.
He stopped at a crosswalk, jogging in place and waiting for the Don’t
Walk symbol to stop flashing. The Oregon winter night was bitterly cold,
and he hardly had any clothes on. He loved the feeling of getting in the
shower after his run to watch the steam leave his body.
A black Lexus pulled up to the stop light, waiting for the signal to go
forward just as much as he was. He glanced over and quickly looked away
as he recognized Kristen in the passenger seat. She was laughing, her
hands cupping her own face as she tried to regain composure. It wasn’t
difficult for him to guess who was making her laugh so hard.

24. He snuck a glance back over, and she was staring at him through the
window, the laughter still in her eyes. A small smiled played on her lips as
the light turned green, and he watched the car drive away for so long that
he missed his chance and the Don’t Walk symbol flashed at him again.
Don’t walk, he thought.
Run.
March 2008
He walked in on her dancing by herself. She had her arms out, like they
were wrapped around a taller male’s shoulder. Her eyes were closed, and
she was swaying back and forth, light on her little toes.
I can see a lot of life of life in you; I can see a lot of bright in you…
His ears pricked up; he knew it immediately. Sufjan Stevens had been
filling his head with music for the past few days – he had been unable to
stop listening to it, which annoyed the shit out of him, because he knew it
was due to Kristen’s ringtone. No, Kristen’s ringtone for her boyfriend.
He could hear her humming to herself; it was almost cute how off key she
was. She twirled on the spot, her leg arching out gracefully. He leaned
against the wall of the studio, intent on watching her for as long as he
could.
I can see a bed and make it too; I can see a fireside turn blue, I can see a
lot of life in you, yes, I can see a lot of life in you…
Then, she backed up from the invisible man she was dancing with, and
dipped into a pretty curtsy. He drew in a loud breath, and she turned
towards him with a start.
“Rob!” she gasped, holding her hand to her heart. “You scared the shit out
of me.”
“Who are you dancing with?” he asked, only half-mockingly.
She looked a little embarrassed. “Well, I’m supposed to be rehearing for
the prom scene, but Sam hasn’t shown up.”

25. His eyebrows collided together. “Why are you using my stunt double to
practice dancing?”
She shrugged, clearly not in the mood to be interrogated. “I just figured
you wouldn’t want to.”
His feet carried him over on their own accord; he swore he had nothing to
do it with it. “You didn’t even ask,” he said, sounding as hurt as he felt.
He took her small, soft hands in his; placing one around his neck and
lightly holding the other in his big palm, he began to sway her around.
When the world looks back, and the face looks after that, I can see a lot of
life in you, yes, I can see a lot of life in you…
“Why would you think I wouldn’t want to dance with you?” he asked her,
feeling the curve of her bony hip, and the way it dramatically jutted out
from her tiny waist.
“Because I didn’t want to dance with you,” she told him, without a hint of
resentment.
He realized she was being entirely honest – she wasn’t trying to hurt him,
at all. And that, that made it hurt. He tried not to let it bother him, and
just smiled crookedly down at her, his best Edward smile.
The song ended and changed smoothly to Ray Lamontage, crooning
about Jolene.
“Cocaine flame in my blood stream, sold my coat when I hit Spokane.
Bought myself a hard pack of cigarettes in the early morning rain,” he
sang quietly, more out of familiarity with the song than out of feelings for
the words.
She watched him without speaking, and he wondered if she thought he
was as good as other people did. He found that it bothered him a lot that
he cared.
“Been so long since I seen your face, or felt a part of this human race; been
living out of this here suitcase for way too long. A man needs something

26. he can hold on to: a nine pound hammer or woman like you. Either one of
them things will do…”
His singing dissolved into quiet hums as he looked anywhere but her. He
could feel her eyes on his face and it bothered him – they were like
opposite ends of magnets, they shouldn’t fit together but they always
collided.
“I didn’t know you could sing,” she said quietly, and he held her at arms’
length and twirled her slowly around. Unlike Bella, she could dance, and
the turn on her toe flowed effortlessly and she was back in his arms within
seconds, like she belonged there.
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Kristen,” he said
heavily.
She sighed, loosening her hold on his hand. “Whose fault is that?” she
said quietly, and he was reminded of their harsh conversation two weeks
ago, in which he told her in no certain terms that friends just wasn’t going
to work for him.
She was halfway down the studio when he took a step towards her. “Don’t
leave,” he said in a low voice.
She stopped on a dime, but didn’t turn around. He could feel want burning
through his veins; what exactly he wanted her to do he didn’t know –
except, he knew he wanted her to turn around and see him with the
apology in his eyes.
She almost turned, too – he could see the turn in her toe as she started to
revolve on her heel – when Sufjan Stevens began singing from her cell
phone.
That seemed to ground her; she continued walking forward to the door.
She almost had it slammed behind her when he heard her answer it with,
“Oh, Michael, I miss you.”
*
“It’s going pretty well,” Kristen told him, squinting into the bright
sunlight. It was so odd for it to be sunny; she almost forgot that a sun

27. existed. “I just got done rehearsing the dance with Rob’s stunt double, and
I think it’s going to go smoothly.”
“Why his stunt double?” Michael asked.
“Because his stunt double is a lot nicer,” she said honestly, listening to the
way her shoes scuffed along the asphalt. “Honestly, Michael, he’s such a
douche bag.”
Michael laughed. “He didn’t seem that bad.”
She was about to retort when she heard a muffled noise – it sounded like
crying. Curious, she walked forward a bit, looking for the source of the
noise. She turned the corner and saw Nikki Reed slouched against the
wall, biting her nail and letting tears run freely down her pale cheeks. She
gasped and tried to hop back around the corner, but Nikki pinned her with
her gaze.
“Hey, I’ve gotta go,” she told Michael, unable to look away from the
puffiness of Nikki’s usually perfect face. She said her goodbyes, pocketed
her phone, and took out a cigarette. “Um… want one?” she asked Nikki,
holding out the box.
Nikki sniffled loudly. “No, thanks. I don’t smoke.”
“Oh.” Kristen thought it was rude to smoke around people who did not,
so she put the box away. She stood there awkwardly for a couple
moments, and then ventured forward. “Are you… okay?”
Nikki sighed and looked away. “Yeah.”
“Um,” said Kristen again, fiddling with the zipper on her jacket. She
hadn’t said two words to Nikki for the whole month she had been around
her, so she was the last person to know how to comfort her. Well, she was
the last person to know how to comfort anybody, really. “Okay. See you.”
Kristen had taken two steps when Nikki sighed, loudly. “It’s just hard
being rejected, you know?”
She stopped and turned around. Nikki was looking down at her pretty,
feminine hands. Actually, everything about Nikki was pretty – beautiful,

28. even – and she was more than a bit intimidating to be around. She was
really sweet to everyone on the set aside from her, and she sometimes felt
a bit resentful that Nikki didn’t want to include her in on her sunshine.
“Yeah,” agreed Kristen eventually. “It sucks.”
Nikki let out a breath. “I’ve never been rejected before,” she said with a
little laugh – being humbled was obviously an eye opening and ironic
experience for her.
“Me neither,” said Kristen, sitting down against the wall next to Nikki.
She was a good five feet away from her, but the intent was clear: she was
willing to talk. “But I’ve also only gone after one guy, and he’s my
boyfriend… so.”
Nikki nodded slowly. “Michael, right?”
Kristen looked up, surprised. “Yeah.”
“Good guy,” Nikki told her. “Big sweetheart. You’re really lucky.”
Kristen nodded, smiling. “Yeah. I am.” She rubbed her hands along her
knees, waiting for Nikki to elaborate on her situation.
She didn’t, not for a long time. They just sat in a comfortable silence – the
silence was a lot more comfortable than any other she had felt with a girl.
She had always been friends with guys, and she never in a million years
thought she could even entertain the thought of being friends with
someone as prissy as Nikki Reed.
Finally, she knocked her head against the wall and said, “It’s just hard. I
mean, I don’t even know if I want to date him. I asked him… well, don’t
think badly of me, okay?”
“Okay,” Kristen said, unsure if she could keep her promise.
“I asked him for a casual… thing,” Nikki said delicately, using her hands
to elaborate. One hand was made into an O shape, the other hand’s
pointer finger moved in and out of the O a couple times.

29. Kristen laughed. “Really? A guy said no to a casual sex fling with
someone as beautiful as you?”
Nikki grinned at her. “Don’t say that. All of this fake blonde hair makes
me look like some sort of albino Scandinavian.”
Kristen snorted. “You’ve just given all of the albino Scandinavians hope.”
Nikki laughed for the first time around her. It was a cute, little girl’s laugh
– all bubbles and waterfalls. “He didn’t even give me a reason,” she said
with a little sardonic laugh.
Kristen shook her head. “He’ll regret it, believe me.”
Nikki rolled her eyes. “He was all ‘No, I just don’t think it’d be wise.’ And
I’m like, I didn’t ask you to buy me roses and write me sonnets. I just want
a piece of your ass. You know?”
“You said that?”
It was Nikki’s turn to snort. “No. Hell no. I said something flippant like
your loss and whipped my hair around and stormed off. You know, all
dramatics.”
“It had to be done,” Kristen agreed.
Nikki smiled tentatively over at her, meeting her eyes for the first time.
“Thanks.”
She shrugged. “Yeah. Sure.” She bit at her lip. “So, who was he?”
“Nikki?” It was another voice, a male voice. It was calling Nikki’s name
from around the corner, and Kristen saw her visibly stiffen.
“Shit,” Nikki cursed, wiping her eyes quickly. “Yeah?” she called louder.
Rob walked around the corner, his head down and his hands in his
pockets. He had his mouth open, like he was about to say something –
then he saw Kristen sitting next to her, and stopped.

30. Wait a fucking second…, Kristen thought, looking between Nikki’s
hopeful gaze and Rob’s locked jaw.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Rob said finally, looking down at Nikki.
Kristen knew that he had no idea that Nikki had told her what had
transpired between the two; how could he? She truly believed he wouldn’t
be so heartless as to agree to a casual fuck when Kristen was sitting right
there. But still, she knew exactly what that meant, and she had to watch
Nikki’s beautiful face break into a smile.
“Have you?” she asked in a low voice; it was a caress, a purr.
“I have,” he agreed, looking down at Kristen as he held out his hand to
Nikki.
Nikki gratefully took it; giving Kristen a wide smile that she could barely
give back, she gracefully got up and tucked herself into Rob’s side as they
walked away.
It was like Rob could feel her watching, because before they rounded the
corner – in the direction of Rob’s trailer – he put his hand low on Nikki’s
hip, barely grazing her ass with the tips of his fingers.
Fuck, I definitely need a cigarette.
*
She was warm.
That was the only thing he could think about afterwards, even after she left
his bed with a small kiss and a sashay of hips. He knew that she would be
back in his bed soon, and the idea cheered him slightly. She was beautiful
and made all the right noises, and she was warm.
And Kristen’s hands were always cold.
Not that it mattered what Kristen’s hands felt like; he didn’t even care
about that stupid girl and her inability to see reason. He couldn’t just be
casual friends with someone so lovely and so mysterious and so interesting
and so… taken. He would end up hating her, and that thought literally

31. made his chest feel hollow – the idea of hating tiny Kristen Stewart was
hard to swallow.
He thought back to the conversation that Nikki had held with him. The
first thought to his mind had been holy shit and the second thought had
been Kristen. He told Nikki that he didn’t think it would be a wise idea
and left it at that. He had hurt her; he saw the flash of pain in her eyes that
told him that it was so much more than just sex with him that she wanted,
but before he could say anything she shot fire in his direction and left.
Dancing with Kristen afterwards had solidified his decision; he was afraid
of the forbidden fruit that was she getting the best of him when trying to
fuck another girl. He was afraid of saying her name when peaking while
some other girl was wriggling underneath him – after all, it was Kristen’s
name that fell off his lips every time the sensation in his loins became too
much and he had to take care of it.
But then, she had rejected him again and walked away with her
boyfriend’s name leaving her lips and he felt nothing but blind rage –
stalking out of the room moments later, he left to find Nikki. He might not
have felt the same about her but what he really needed was a good fuck to
get Kristen out of his mind.
There was just so much tension between them – palpable, tangible tension
that he could take a big bite out of and chew in his mouth for hours, like
long lasting bubble gum. He found it impossible to be light-hearted around
her; she just made him feel so heavy all the time.
And he had had enough.
So, at 10:38 PM, he knocked on the door of her apartment for the first
time in two weeks. He heard her shifting and then her feet smacking
against the linoleum. There was a pause, and then the door pulled open.
Her hair was wet down her back, her face void of any makeup. She had on
a white wife-beater and yoga pants, and she had a pencil stuck behind her
ear. She raised her eyebrows at him but didn’t say anything, only stepped
back so he could come inside.
He did so, stepping out of the cold wind. Her skin was a light pink, like
she had just gotten out of the shower and the water had been screaming

32. hot. She looked young and too tempting; he could see the outline of her
nipples through the wife beater.
She flushed like she could hear his thoughts and excused herself to go
change. She came back in with a grey hoodie thrown over her body and
even still she was lovely. She didn’t say a word to him as she went back
into her living room; he followed her without comment and saw that she
had tons of books and loose leaf notebook strewn over the floor.
“Homework,” she said sadly, gesturing to the open book that he
recognized as The Twelfth Night. She plopped down onto the floor again
amidst the mess.
God, you’re so fucking young, he thought, unable to remember the last
time homework plagued his life. Instead, he thrust two books at her and
said, “Here.”
She took the books from the ends of his fingers, turning them over in her
hands. “Doomed Love by Virgil,” she read off the first one.
“One of my favorites,” he said evenly. “It’s very Bella-Edward, I think.”
“The title is, that’s for sure,” she said calmly, putting it on the floor and
reading the other title. “The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran.”
He hesitated. “I haven’t read it yet. I skimmed it. I thought… we could
read it together.”
She didn’t look up at him; instead, she opened the book and flipped to a
random page. “You give but little when you give of your possessions. It is
when you give of yourself that you truly give.” She finally looked up at
him, questions in her eyes. “What is this all about?”
He took a deep breath. “I want to be friends.”
She stared at him for a long time. He started to feel for Nikki – is this what
she felt like when he had stared at her, battling the pro’s and con’s in his
head?
“Did you sleep with Nikki?” she asked him suddenly, taking him aback.

33. “Why?” he asked.
“Friends tell each other things,” she said neutrally.
He sighed, defeated. “Yes.”
She swallowed visibly. “She likes you, you know.” He heard the hesitance
in her voice; it spoke of new friendships not only between the two of them,
but possibly between her and Nikki.
“I know,” he said, and he did.
“Do you like her?” She wouldn’t relent.
“I could like her,” he said honestly, wanting the topic to be closed. “Are
we friends, or not?”
She looked up at him again, obviously not intent on giving him a straight
answer. She scratched her head absently, working her jaw from side to
side. “Have you read Twelfth Night?”
“Yes.”
“Will you help me? I’m terrible with Shakespeare.”
He smiled slightly, settling down on the threadbare carpet next to her.
Their hands brushed as they both reached for the book at the same time.
She looked up at him briefly, saw him staring and tripped over his gaze.
“It’s weird,” she said finally, watching him read Act Two.
“What is?”
“Knowing that you’ve seen each other naked.”
“It’s not weird,” he argued. “Sex is a beautiful thing.”
She made a face. “Do not justify your whorings, Pattinson.”
“I’m telling Nikki you said that.”

34. She smiled. “I’ll tell her myself.”
He looked over at her. “Yeah?”
She shrugged, her damp hair falling forward. He caught a whiff of her
sweet smelling shampoo and closed his eyes.
“We can be friends,” she told him finally. He opened his eyes and her
green eyes were staring right into his.
You’re lovely, he thought.
He didn’t realize he spoke aloud until Kristen flushed and changed the
subject.
March 2008
“You can’t be serious.”
“Why can’t I be? You’ll find that I can be serious about a lot of things.
Like weed and sex and rock n’ roll.”
“Stop changing the subject. I can’t believe you.”
“It’s not like it matters.”
“It could matter.”
“Kristen. Stop denying us, darling.”
Robert Fucking Asshole Idiot Pattinson asked her to marry him, very
loudly, in front of the whole cast and crew after one particularly intense
scene – the scene in which Bella and Edward dance in his room and she
has to climb on his back and be dazzled.
She wasn’t dazzled. Well, maybe momentarily, until he opened his big
gob and ruined it all. He had gotten up on that big quilted bed-couch,
jumped on it and said, marry me.
Marry me. Just like that.

35. She had flushed and laughed and said, “Shut up.” But it had been done.
ut
Everyone started whispering and it was just fucking great. Especially
considering people from Summit Entertainment were all around, filming a
sneak peak for Twilight to be put on Penelope’s DVD.
Fan. Fucking. Tastic.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly in her ear. “Sometimes, it’s hard for me to get
out of Edward.”
“That wasn’t Edward Cullen,” she shot back. “That was Tom Cruise on
Oprah.”
He laughed aloud at that.
She grinned. “Come closer to me, so they can’t hear us.”
He bent his ear down to her mouth, and she wrapped an arm around his
nt
neck while whispering, “If you do that to me again, I’ll embarrass you so
hard that your children will feel it.” She looked up and saw a camera
zooming in on their interaction.
“You mean our children?” His grin was insufferable.
She huffed and stepped back. “I’m warning you, Pattinson. One more
word and…” She mimed cupping something in her hand, twisting it,
yanking it hard, and then throwing it behind her shoulder. “I’ll make
having children impossible for you.”
He looked momentarily horrified, but then the easy grin was back on his
face. “Nikki would never forgive you, and you know how cranky she
gets.”

36. She rolled her eyes and pretended she was okay with how casually he
always mentioned his sex life. Pretended like she didn’t almost ask Nikki
what it was like to have sex with him. Pretended like she never wondered
what it would feel like to be with him, just once. Pretended like she didn’t
know that just once would turn into twice, three times, or four.
When he wasn’t brooding, he was actually sort of enjoyable. Really
annoying, really cocky, really British – but really fun. But he still brooded.
A lot, actually. Sometimes, she would look over at him and wouldn’t even
know him. His eyes would get dark and his smile would be like a light
bulb that reached its maximum ability and shorted out when you tried to
flip on the switch.
She couldn’t decide who she liked more: laughing, crazy Rob or serious,
intense Rob. She found it was a miracle that she liked him at all. He called
her a silly girl any chance he could get, and she wanted so bad to retort
something like, I caught you looking at my boobs so I can’t be so little to
you, can I? But that was a mouthful and anyway, she felt like talking about
anything sexual in relation to Rob was sort of a violation of Nikki’s claim.
If she even had a claim. Rob never acted like she did; he barely alluded to
their sexual relationship, which bothered Kristen a lot. She wanted to
know the details, all of them, no matter how sick that was – she wanted to
know how he felt about it and whether he ever thought about her. Nikki,
however, had what she felt written all over her face: she would walk
around set hanging onto Rob’s arm and laughing at everything he said.
And she wasn’t even faking it. He really did make her laugh that much.
Kristen supposed he would make her laugh that much too, if she wasn’t so
uptight about most of his jokes.
And when she heard Nikki’s girlish laugh, Kristen realized that Rob
wasn’t even next to her anymore, but was leaning down into her ear now,
making it look a lot more intimate than she was comfortable watching.
But she didn’t look away.
*
“We’re going to this great little bar tonight,” Nikki told Kristen after
shooting had wrapped early that day.

37. “Who’s we?” Kristen inquired – if we meant Rob and I, then she would
gracefully bow out.
“Oh, everyone,” she said vaguely. “Come. I’m going to try to make Rob
sing. Have you heard him? He’s some kind of phenomenal.”
She thought of dancing in his arms, hearing his low blues-like voice
singing Jolene in her ear. She thought of him saying don’t leave and how
she would have turned right back around if Michael hadn’t have called.
“No,” she said simply, shaking her head and putting her hair back into a
messy bun.
“Then you have to come. Really.”
She had two term papers due, a boyfriend that was waiting for her phone
call, and a current of sexual frustration. She should have said no, but of
course, she said yes.
*
Nikki watched Kristen slide through the door of the bar, holding up her
fake ID. She whistled underneath her breath – who would have thought?
Kristen Stewart was nearly beautiful. All she had on was a black turtleneck
and skinny jeans, her hands shoved into her black leather jacket – but she
had cleaned herself up, styled her hair a bit, put on some makeup and
made her eyes dark.
For the first time in a while, she felt an undercurrent of something not
quite nice go through her blood. She had grown to really like Kristen; she
was witty in her own quiet way, and terribly shy. She was smart, and
Nikki found that her stumbling, awkward demeanor had everything to do
with her being unable to convey whatever brilliant thought going through
her head at the time. When she spoke seriously, which was rare, it was
always so full of something that no one could quite understand, but
everyone latched onto every word, trying to get some glimmer into her
soul.
Well, she took that back - one person always seemed to understand her.

38. “There’s no way I’m singing up there,” Rob told her, stubbornly pouting
and making her want to kiss him there, in front of everyone.
“Please,” she said in her most convincing voice, squeezing his thigh
underneath the filthy wooden table. His muscle twitched but he made no
other reaction. “I’ll make it worth your while, I swear.”
“You will anyway,” he said, twisting that red British mouth into a smirk.
She wanted to argue, but he was right. She was wrapped around his little
finger.
“Doesn’t Kristen look pretty tonight?” she asked, changing the subject.
She knew it was wrong to manipulate them this way, but she felt like she
needed some sort of control.
He looked up quickly. “I didn’t know she was coming.”
“I invited her. That’s okay, right?”
He didn’t have time to answer; he was too busy watching Kristen make
her way through the crowd. She smiled awkwardly at the few guys that
made passes at her, and Nikki thought that it was kind of adorable how
uncomfortable she was with any sort of attention.
“Hi,” she said, smiling prettily at them as she reached the table.
“Hey mama,” Nikki said casually, pointedly looking at Kellan to pull out
a chair for her. He sprung up immediately, and Kristen blushed when
Kellan took her hand and all but laid her down into the seat.
Good boy, thought Nikki. Maybe when Rob realizes he could be possibly
falling for Kristen and breaks my heart, I’ll try you on for size.
“So, Rob…” Kristen started, startling everyone at how comfortable his
name sounded leaving her lips. Kristen rarely spoke first, especially if she
hadn’t been spoken to. “I hear you’re going to sing for us.”
Nikki raised her eyebrows at Rob, who was shaking his head adamantly.

39. “No, I’m not,” he said, but even to her ears, he sounded unsure. Like all it
would take was one pout of Kristen’s before he was on the stage with the
guitar in his lap.
“Oh,” Kristen said, settling back in her chair. “That’s… kind of why I
came.”
She didn’t even pout, Nikki thought a bit smugly and a bit more
heartbrokenly as she watched Rob set up on the small stage.
*
Kristen didn’t know if it was kosher to apply a word like dazzling in
everyday life, but when Rob Pattinson opened his mouth and started
singing, that was the only word she could come up with. He sang two
songs, one called Stray Dog and the other called Let Me Sign, one simple
and one so intense that she felt it crawl up and down her spine like errant
fingers.
Nikki was the one who greeted him when he came down off the stage,
rubbing his back and telling him how beautifully he sang. Nikki was the
one who was single and able to touch him any time and any way she
chose. So even though Rob looked to Kristen for her opinion, all she could
do was smile slightly, and then turn to start a conversation with a
surprised Jackson.
She enjoyed herself a lot more than she thought she was going to; the cast
around her were all extremely down to earth and enjoyable, and she felt
slightly guilty about all but ignoring them before. She was enjoying herself
so much that she almost forgot Nikki and Rob had left together and didn’t
return.
Almost.
Needing a cigarette, she excused herself out of the bar and opened the exit
door into the alley. She heard footsteps and grabbed onto the pepper spray
in her purse – cute, Bella – but then she heard a familiar voice around the
corner and continued inhaling the sweet nicotine that she could still
sometimes taste off of Rob’s lips.
“Do you think she liked it?” Rob was asking, sounding a little hurt and
more than a little distracted.

40. “I’m not sure, she didn’t really say,” answered Nikki.
That was a lie – Kristen had distinctly leaned over and whispered he’s
amazing to Nikki and she had nodded in response. Rolling her eyes, she
figured it didn’t really matter whether Nikki told the truth about it or not,
because she decided she’d rather not let Rob know how beautiful she
found him tonight.
“Hmmm,” he said noncommittally, but there was something else in his
voice.
“I know you like that,” she heard Nikki’s voice murmur, and Kristen
almost choked on her cigarette.
“Well, I know you like this,” Rob answered, and she heard Nikki’s gaspy
little breath as Rob did whatever he was doing to her.
“Don’t toy with me,” Nikki hissed. “Do it now.”
He evidently didn’t have anymore words to say, because Kristen heard
them both sigh as Rob did it now. She had wondered why Nikki was
wearing a skirt in 20 degree weather, but now she knew the purpose
behind it – alley way sex. She tried her hardest not to listen, but she didn’t
go back inside, either. She heard Nikki’s little cries of yes, yes, like that
and her declarations of mmm, you get so deep and Rob’s little groans that
were muffled against some sort of skin. She heard Nikki demand for him
to put his hands on the wall, and Kristen could almost see Nikki tighten
her legs around his waist as he braced himself against the solid brick. She
didn’t have to wonder anymore what it felt like to be fucked by Rob
Pattinson – Nikki had made that crystal clear.
He only said one word the whole time.
“Kris.”
She didn’t even go back into the bar. She drove straight home.
*

41. He played it off as if he said Christ, and she had believed him on a laugh.
Your accent always gets me, she told him, and he felt terrible because he
had actually said someone else’s name.
Not just someone else’s. Hers. Her nickname that he hadn’t even gotten
the chance to call her yet. Kris. He wondered how she would take it;
wondered if her boyfriend called her that.
Probably, the rational side of his head told him.
So his heart told him to never call her that to her face.
*
“I’m going to break her heart,” he told Kristen the next night. She had just
picked up the dog-eared copy of The Prophet they had been reading aloud
to each other; his pronouncement arrested her movements and she looked
up at him through her dark eyelashes.
That look was the first look that had actually jumped started his heart. He
was always in control around her, and prided himself on keeping whatever
he felt towards her – which he wasn’t even sure of, to be honest – under
wraps. He did a pretty damn good job, too.
But that look, that look could have undone it all. Her green eyes pierced
him through black eyelashes and her mouth was open in a little ‘o’ of
shock. It was pink and slightly wet; she had a habit of biting on it and it
drove him crazy sometimes.
“Whose heart?” she said carefully, opening up the book and placing it in
his lap. It was his turn to read that night.
“Nikki’s.”
She took a deep breath, letting it come out of her nose slowly. “Don’t hurt
her too badly.”
He found it extremely weird and just a little frightening that Kristen – who
was becoming fast friends with Nikki – didn’t even try to stick up for her
friend’s and his relationship.

42. “I’ll try.”
She took another breath. “She thinks she could love you,” she divulged
quietly.
He nodded; Nikki had told him that the night before. “That’s why I’m
doing this. It’s better to end this now than to let her think that my heart
belongs to her.”
She grinned up at him. “And who does your heart belong to?”
He looked down at the book and began reading from the passage they had
left off at. “But if you love and must have desires, let these be your desires:
to melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night, to
know the pain of too much tenderness, to be wounded by your own
understanding of love. And to bleed willfully and joyfully, to wake at
dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving, to
rest at the noon hour and meditate on love’s ecstasy, to return home at
eventide with gratitude, and then to sleep with a prayer of your beloved in
your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.”
When he looked back up at her, she had the quietest look on her face that
he had ever seen. It was like she was sleeping with her eyes open. But then
she smiled sadly, and he caught a glimmer of moisture in her eyes before
she turned away.
“Love isn’t like that,” she said finally.
“It could be,” he said, closing the book again.
She shook her head. “It never would be. Has it ever been that way for
you?”
He thought for a moment, thinking it slightly ironic how inexperienced he
was with relationships in general, especially considering a seventeen year
old was lecturing him on love. “I’ve never been in love,” he admitted.
She looked at him curiously. “Then how do you know that love is like
that?”

43. He shook his head slowly at her, and then reached across the small couch
and took her tiny hand. It was the boldest touch he had made yet, and her
soft, cold hand wrapped around his fingers like he was a life vest and she a
drowning victim. “I didn’t say it was,” he answered eventually, wondering
at the smoothness of her skin. “But I did say that it could be.”
She met his gaze and didn’t look away until her cell phone started ringing;
Sufjan Stevens was back to serenade them.
*
Nikki wasn’t an idiot, so when Rob showed up at her door at 2 AM, she
knew what it was about. Still, she decided to let him speak, in case his
justifications made him feel any better. She could give him that.
“It’s just not right to do this to you, when I don’t feel the same,” he said
quietly, holding her hand loosely and staring at his scuffed shoes. “I’m
sorry to have given you the wrong impression, but when you came to me,
you asked me for sex and that’s all I can give you. I don’t have anything
else.”
Rob might not have known it yet, but she knew that sex was all he would
ever give her – because he didn’t have ownership of his heart anymore.
And she knew exactly who did, even if he didn’t, and even if the owner
didn’t. Still, she had to ask.
“Is it her?” Nikki whispered, hurting so much that she felt her normal
timbre would cause her voice to crack and then she would have to run off
crying.
He ran his hand through his hair, pulling at the ends of it in the way that
she loved. Loved. “It’s me,” he said finally, and even though it sounded
like the usual it’s not you it’s me line, she understood.
It wasn’t Kristen who had the feelings and was pulling him towards her. It
was Rob who had the feelings and was drawn towards her.
“Then it looks like I’m not the only one who will end up with a broken
heart,” Nikki said finally.
“I know,” he whispered.

44. *
Michael could hear his voice in the background, and it bothered him a lot
more than it should. Kristen had been his girlfriend for over two years,
and she had never failed him – once. Even while filming with Emile
Hirsch, she never even once had the urge to cheat on him, and he knew
that.
So why was goofy, odd-looking Robert Pattinson annoying him so much?
He tried to tell himself that it was because he always annoyed Kristen. But
then again, most everything – bless her – annoyed Kristen. But she always
had a new complaint about him, oh you’ll never guess what that douche
bag did today, and it made him feel better to know that no matter how
Edward Cullen he was on the set, he was nothing like his almighty
character in real life.
She hadn’t lodged a complaint about him in two days, however, and it
was starting to worry him a bit. He could hear her screaming at Rob now,
laughing, and he could hear him answering back in a low, attractive voice.
She had muffled the speaker with her hand so he couldn’t make out what
they were saying, but he knew that no one but her dad had ever made
Kristen laugh like that.
“Sorry,” she said breathlessly as she came back on the phone. He waited
for her to complain, but she never did. “Anyway, what was I saying? Oh,
yeah – we’re doing this thing called Twilight Tuesdays and it’s just
retarded, Michael. Like, we’re doing this series of interviews that have to
be split up into tiny segments so MTV can play them every Tuesday until
Twilight comes out in theaters.”
“That sounds horrible-“ he started, but he was cut off by Kristen’s loud
squeal.
“I AM ON THE PHONE, ROBERT. What are you – GET THAT SHIT
AWAY FROM- OH MY GOD, YOU ARE GOING TO PAY FOR
THAT, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE.”
Michael distinctly heard that fucking asshole say, “Just agree to marry me,
love, and it’ll never happen again.”

45. “Kris?” Michael asked uncertainly, his blood simmering underneath his
skin.
“Michael? Baby, I’m sorry, but Rob just dumped a whole can of blue
water colors on my head and I need to go wash it off, like now.”
“All right, I’ll talk to you later.”
“Love you. Sorry.”
She hung up before he could even say love you too.
Michael sat still for a moment, then went to his computer and bought the
next flight out to Portland.
April 2008
“I’ve never watched this with a guy before,” Kristen admitted, tucking her
feet under her legs as she slumped back onto Rob’s couch.
“I find a little porn watching is good for friendship,” Rob told her, sliding
the ancient VHS into the even more ancient VHS player he had stationed
on his TV.
She glared at him as he turned around. “It’s not porn, it’s art. Don’t make
it sound so dirty.”
“You’re right. Marlon Brando does a good job of that on his own.”
She grinned. “Just keep the butter in the fridge. And stop leering at me like
that; I’m going to go home.”
He stalked over to the couch after pushing play. The beginning notes of
the credits began to tinkle from the screen, and Kristen tried to swallow
her awkwardness as Rob settled down beside her.
He kept his distance.

46. “I think this is what we should base the whole relationship on,” Rob said
eventually, grinning over at her. “Don’t roll your eyes at me. I could call
the police; you’re underage.”
She saluted him with her beer – a Sweetwater 420. “Then I’ll just tell them
you’re providing a minor with alcohol. Shut up and let’s watch Maria
Schneider get fucked to high heaven.” She immediately flushed – using the
word fuck in relation to sex when her body was annoyingly aware of
Rob’s proximity made her stomach feel like she had just eaten a batch full
of worms.
But he just grinned. “Your wish, my command.”
“I’ve never done that,” she said later, watching the butter scene with her
head cocked like she was surveying a science experiment.
“Anal?” Rob asked, and she heard his voice crack a bit.
She nodded, keeping her eyes straight ahead. “Have you?”
He breathed in heavily, and she chanced a look over. He was grinning at
her, and she gave him a look.
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I have.”
“What was it like?” she blurted out, unable to control herself. The idea of
his sex life was so deliciously interesting to her, like being able to smell
and stare at a forbidden fruit without being able to taste it.
He laughed. “It was a lot different for me than for her, that’s for sure.”
“Well… what was it like for you?”
He shook his head. “Really?”
She shifted, turning her gaze back to the TV. “No. Never mind.”
A couple of beats, and then, “Tight.”

47. Her jaw clenched along with her stomach and something else she didn’t
want to acknowledge. Oh my God. He said tight. Oh my God. “Tighter
than…” She gestured towards her lap, trying to stay clinical.
He nodded slowly. “Uh huh.”
“Hmmm,” she said, running a slightly shaking hand through her hair.
“And what do you think it was like for her? I mean, I don’t know, it just
seems so… painful.”
He sighed. “Well,” he nodded his head towards the movie, “she wasn’t
crying, I’ll say that much.”
She snorted, knowing the topic was closed. They remained in silence for
the rest of the movie; the only noise was Rob shifting his weight about
every three minutes. He seemed awfully uncomfortable, and she was
about to inquire what his problem was when he turned to her.
“Kristen, I think…”
But then, there was a knock on the door. They looked at each other,
puzzled.
“Who could be coming by at midnight?” he wondered, standing up and
shaking out his pants.
She glanced up at him and then turned away quickly. Oh. My. GOD.
That’s why he was shifting so much.
“It could be Nikki,” she told him as he moved towards the door.
He threw her a look over his shoulder, and then looked in the peephole.
“Um… I think it’s for you, Kristen.” Then he opened the door, and there
stood Michael.
“Michael?” Kristen asked, both equally confused and happy to see him.
“What are you doing here?” She rose from her seat, straightening her t-
shirt and thanking God that Last Tango in Paris was over.
“Well, I came to surprise you,” he said, grinning at her. “I stopped by
your place, but you weren’t there. So I called Nikki, and she directed me

48. here.” He glanced up at Rob, who had a very strained smile on his face.
“Sorry to crash your party.”
“We were just finishing up,” Rob said kindly. “Would you like to come
in?”
Nikki. And Michael. Friends. She had completely forgotten, and it made
her just a bit nervous to know that Michael had an official spy on set. Not
that she would ever do anything that warranted a spy. But, still.
“Sure,” Michael said, stepping inside, but Kristen cut him off.
“We’ll go,” she said decidedly, moving towards the open door. “I’m tired
anyway, and the movie is already over. Thanks for the beer, Rob. See you
tomorrow?”
“Sure,” he said amicably, smiling down at her as his eyes followed her out
of the door. “Don’t forget that we’re supposed to be early. Catherine said
that the kiss scene will probably take all day. You know how she is.”
“Right,” she said professionally, internally grinning at what she knew was
Rob paying back Michael for busting in his apartment unannounced.
Touché, she thought. “Good night.”
“Good night,” he said, and the way he said it sounded like a lover’s caress
– a good night spoken from across a bed, not from across a foyer. Then he
shut the door and the warmth and light from his apartment was snuffed
out and she faced Michael.
“It’s nice of you to surprise me like this,” she said sweetly, taking his
hand. “I’ve missed you.”
He smiled. “Just thought you might need another ally on set,” he told her
as they walked down the short steps to the parking lot. “On the phone
yesterday, it sounded like he was driving you crazy.”
You came all this way because of Rob? she wanted to ask, but instead she
just smiled. “Oh, he’s not so bad. Kind of like a toddler that needs
babysitting, but still lovable.”
He just nodded, and his smile took on a fake air.

49. She thought back to the day before. Rob had been hounding her all day
about the marriage thing, so he had taken a bowl of blue watercolor paint
they had used to make a belated birthday card for Kellan. He proceeded to
dump it all down the front of her just because she kept refusing his hand in
marriage.
It sounded a lot more dramatic than it really was.
Michael and Kristen had barely made it to their respective cars when she
muttered shit under her breath.
“What is it?” Michael asked, unlocking his car with a beep beep.
“I left my jacket,” she sighed. “You want to wait, or just go on ahead?”
“I’ll wait,” he said quickly, and she mentally rolled her eyes.
“Be right back,” she promised, then ascended the stairs back to his
apartment.
She knocked on the door; he didn’t answer. She groaned. Typical. She
figured he was in the shower or something, so she let herself in after
fishing the key out from under the mat. She left her jacket right inside on
the hook, so she expected to just grab it and go.
But that wasn’t how it happened.
Later, she would think of eloquent words to describe the scene she walked
in on, like she was committing them to a diary. But now, all she could
think were small phrases that left her completely and utterly breathless.
Rob. Pants Down Around Ankles. Boxers Open. Hand Fisted. Length
Exposed. Jerking Wrist. Eyes Closed. Head Thrown Back. Quad
Twitching. Quiet Groans. Breath Catching. Moans Getting Louder. Neck
Veins Bulging. Sharp Tap With Foot. Loud Sob. Quick Pumping. Wetness
Spilling.
When she got back down to her car, Michael looked at her questioningly.
“Where’s your jacket?”

50. She stared at him for a moment, quite sure that she forgot how to speak.
“Um… I guess I didn’t take it with me, like I thought I did. He said it
wasn’t up there.”
As she drove home, she knew that the image of Rob masturbating would
never leave her.
And she was really okay with that.
*
Nikki sat around with Michael as the makeup artists hovered over Kristen
and Rob, making sure their look was complete before the infamous kiss
scene was to begin. She figured that Michael would need some support
this day; Rob and Kristen had become disgustingly close over the past
month, and she was sure that would translate on camera.
The couple was sitting on Bella’s bed, whispering to each other and
grinning. He was extremely close to her ear, and she kept laughing and
trying to push him back.
“You’re disgusting,” she heard Kristen say, and Rob’s answering laugh
made Nikki’s nerve endings go into hyper drive.
It was hard enough being dumped in a relationship that wasn’t even
romantic. It was hard enough falling in love with your co-star when he
had sex with you and didn’t even find that appealing. It was hard enough
being more beautiful than Kristen, being nicer than Kristen, and still
falling behind. It was hard taking second place when Kristen couldn’t even
have Rob, and he couldn’t have her, no matter how charming he was.
It was especially hard answering to Michael, considering he had asked her
to keep on eye on them, and she had failed. She knew that they had been
alone together last night, and when she had asked Rob what they were
going to do, all he said was porn and then hung up, laughing at her stony
silence.
“They’ve gotten close, haven’t they?” Michael asked her, watching them.
Kristen was laughing at Rob – he was moving his mouth in distaste
because his makeup artist was a little overenthusiastic on the powder and
it had gotten on his tongue.

51. “Suck it up, you baby,” they heard Kristen tell him.
“Don’t make me get the butter,” Rob warned, crooking his eyebrow at her
and making her crack up all over again.
What the fuck did that mean?
But then Catherine bustled over, telling them to get serious. And
something just shifted, like the particles in the air began moving in the
opposite direction. A hush fell over the small set, and the air fairly
crackled with electricity, with anticipation.
Rob’s face got very quiet, and when Catherine shouted action, Nikki
leaned forward in her seat to get a better look at her heart breaking.
“I just want to try one thing,” Rob said, slipping into his low, even,
americanized voice. “Stay very still.”
She watched as Kristen’s breath fluttered out of her chest; she could hear
the hitch from across the room. Kristen’s eyes began to blink rapidly as
Rob moved towards her – she leaned into the kiss, but Rob said, “Don’t
move.”
So Kristen stayed and waited for the contact. It was very slow and very
painful, watching him lean in and out and around to get the best angle, the
breath tearing from his lips so forcefully that she could see his chest
heaving. Then finally, his mouth parted against hers and she heard an
audible sigh from everyone in the room.
They both sagged into the kiss; she swore to God they were both
trembling. Their lips broke with a small pop, and then it was Kristen’s turn
to lean into him. She pushed her lips into his more forcefully than he had,
and Nikki could feel her own heart beating frantically against her chest.
She felt like she was watching someone’s sex tape. Their kiss looked so
intimate, so real. Like they had been practicing it up to this moment.
Their lips drew apart again, this time for Kristen to rise up on her knees.
She locked her fists into Rob’s hair, her tiny fingers keeping a vise-like
grip. She melted her mouth against his, and he took it submissively – it

52. couldn’t have been any plainer that he wanted it, all of it. His hands found
purchase on her waist, and suddenly Rob was back in control – he grabbed
her up and made a breathy noise as he placed her on her back and forced
their lips together in the messiest kiss, the most beautiful kiss that could
have been put on film.
Kristen’s hands stayed fisted in his hair, and the kiss seemed to drag on
forever. She knew that Edward would have lost control by now, and she
was thinking that it was about time for Catherine to call cut when Rob’s
weight shifted and suddenly, he was on the floor.
Kristen’s laugh broke through the sexual haze that had surrounded the set.
“Very smooth, Don Juan.”
Nikki spared a glance at Michael, who had a very fake smile on his face,
trying to laugh along with everyone else.
*
“You don’t have to say anything,” Rob told him, before Michael even had
a chance to speak. “I know what you’re going to say.”
Michael had asked to speak to Rob privately, drawing him away from the
others. He wasn’t going to do it, but then, when he had walked outside of
the set after having a stern conversation with Nikki – she wasn’t upholding
her friend-like duties – he came upon Rob twirling Kristen to the beat of
some pop song that was playing on the radio.
Twirling her. Right there. On the asphalt, in front of everyone. And
Kristen was laughing. Laughing, and twirling along.
Michael didn’t consider himself a very jealous person. In fact, he was
extremely tolerant as far as boyfriends went, considering he was in the
business himself and knew that in acting, people just had to kiss people.
People that belonged to other people. That was fine. He understood about
co-stars; hell, Kristen had been his co-star. He got it.
But any boyfriend had to raise the alarm when the other guy wasn’t even
trying to hide his feelings. Especially when that guy was a former model
with a British accent and a nice voice and blue eyes.

53. “What am I going to say, then?” Michael asked him, crossing his arms
over his chest.
“You’re going to say that I’m crossing the line, and that I’m being very
inconsiderate. And you’re right, I am. I’m sorry.” Rob looked down at
him, ruffling a hand through his hair. “But I respect Kristen a lot, and I
would never do anything to put her in a difficult position.”
“You like her,” Michael said, not accusingly, but not a question, either.
Rob shrugged.
“Listen,” Michael said, finding it very hard to hate him. “You’ve got good
taste, all right? Don’t you think I understand her appeal more than
anyone? But we’re together, and I’m not going to step aside, because I love
her. She’s a huge part of my life.”
“She loves you too,” Rob assured him, and Michael had to commend him
– he barely could hear the strain in his voice.
“I know,” said Michael. “I’m not trying to come across as some asshole,
beating his chest and peeing on his girlfriend’s leg to claim her. But it’s
daunting for me, hearing things that I do. Okay?”
“You don’t have to worry,” Rob said, looking away. “I wouldn’t do
anything to hurt her. I care about her.”
Michael didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse.
*
“Twilight Tuesdays start tomorrow,” Kristen told Rob over the phone. He
was lying in his bed, completely exhausted by the day’s events, and the toll
they had taken on his mind, body, and heart.
“I know,” he told her. “I’m just so excited, aren’t you?”
“Thrilled,” she answered, and he smiled at the eye roll he could hear in
her voice. “Listen, Michael just left – he had to get back to LA. Want to
come over? We still have fifty pages of The Prophet to get through.”

54. A yes was on his tongue, threatening to leap out and make its way into her
ears. But then he thought back over on the conversation he had with
Michael, and the promise he had made to him and to himself. Things were
getting entirely too heated between him and Kristen, and he knew that
hanging out with her as much as he did wasn’t helping at all.
It had gotten so bad last night that, coupled with an NC-17 movie and her
sweet smelling shampoo coursing over him, he had nearly rubbed himself
raw as soon as she left with Michael. He hadn’t had to please himself in
such a long time, and forgot what a relief it was. He had a feeling he
would be doing that a lot within the next month and a half they had left –
unless he called Nikki up…
No.
Yes.
No.
Maybe.
“I’m tired,” he told Kristen. And he was. Tired of the growing feelings he
had for her, and the label he didn’t have for the feelings. What were they?
Like? Care? Friendship? … Love?
Definitely not love.
“Oh,” she said after a beat, and he knew he had hurt her. There he went,
breaking a promise to Michael while trying to keep a promise to Michael.
He told him that he wouldn’t hurt her, but pushing her away was hurting
her anyway. “Um… I’ll just see you tomorrow, then.”
“Wait-“ he blurted.
"You're just - You're like, my best friend, you know?" she told him quietly,
and then the phone clicked and she was off.
He stared at the phone for all of three seconds before dialing back. It rang
and rang but she didn’t pick up.
Fuck this, he thought.

55. He dialed a different number that time.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Nikki. Feel like coming over?”
She said yes, just like he knew she would.
April 2008
It took Kristen all of thirty seconds to roll out of bed and search for the
nearest pair of pants. It’s not that she didn’t know she was a bitch, and it’s
not that Rob didn’t know, either. But fuck him, if she didn’t feel guilty for
hanging up and not even giving him a chance to explain.
Maybe he really was tired. But there was something so off about his voice,
like he was holding back this huge secret, and that just wasn’t like him.
Rob was an open book about everything – his disdain of menthol
cigarettes, his love of Earl Grey tea, the last time he jacked off – so when
he had to hide something, it was big. And she didn’t like him hiding big
things.
Especially since, no matter how clammed up she tried to be around him,
his easy going and downright stupid attitude always drew her out of her
shell and she found herself laughing and kind of liking him a lot for that.
Liking him – as a friend. Strictly.
So, when she knocked on his door twenty minutes later, shivering in the
cold and waiting for him to answer, she already had her apology on the tip
of her tongue. Fingering the spine of The Prophet, she recited to herself
I’m sorry for hanging up, but you know you can tell me anything, right?
And she saw him smiling and letting her in for a nice long chat on his
threadbare couch, and she heard him reading a passage out of their book
in his low, attractive voice as her vision blurred in and out from tiredness
and contentment.
But he didn’t answer, so she found herself breaking and entering for the
second time that week. She shoved the key in the lock, fumbled with it for