A/N: Hey guys... Long time no see, huh? I decided that I don't really like to write that much. But when inspiration hits, well... this is what happened. Just a short drabble about Edward and Bella in Bella's POV, all- human. It's still in progress, and it's in two parts; the only problem is, I don't know how it should end, positively or negatively. I'm thinking negatively. Hmmm... read part one and tell me what you think.

Waking Up, Part 1

Bzzzt.

Bzzzt.

My phone buzzed against the metal frame of my bed, and I blinked sleepily. I picked up the phone and looked at who was calling me.

My heart gave a painful lurch, and I sat up, now fully aake. I glanced at the clock, confused as hell- it was two in the morning. Why on earth was he calling me, let alone at two in the morning on a Saturday night? I flipped open my phone and answered.

"Hello?"

"'m outside," his voice slurred loudly.

"Shh!" I hushed him. "Outside where?"

"Yer house," he said, quieter this time.

"What?"

"'m outside yer house!" He enunciated stupidly.

I crawled to the edge of my bed and looked out the window. Sure enough, there was a little red Taurus parked in the parking lot next to my house, and as I looked, I both saw and heard the door open, and the contents of his stomach were soon splattered on the ground. I grimaced.

"I'll be right out," I told him tiredly.

I climbed out of bed and padded down the stairs silently. If my mom woke up, I'd be dead 50 times over. I grabbed a towel from the downstairs bathroom and tip toed out the back door, making sure it didn't shut behind me. I walked over to his car, where he was slumped over in the driver's seat. Avoiding the pungent- smelling puke on the pavement, I touched im lightly on the shoulder. He moaned and looked up. He reeked of alcohol.

"You're drunk!" I accused him. He just laughed. I sighed and started cleaning him up. As much of a jerk as he had been, I wasn't going to let him drive like that. He still meant something to me- although I wasn't sure exactly what that was- and I'd take care of him.

I took his hand and pulled him out of the car, wincing as his head hit the door frame. He yelled, and I shushed him quickly. "Dumbass," I muttered under my breath. I took him up the stairs and through the hall to the bathroom that had a shower. I turned the water on and told him to strip. He guffawed, and I rolled my eyes and turned around. I had to stay in the bathroom in case my mom woke up and asked me why I happened to be taking a shower at two in the morning. Also, if he tripped and knocked himself out and drowned in my shower, I'd have some major explaining to do.

He finally turned the water off. Without turning around, I handed him a towel.

"Wrap yourself up in that and I'll get you some clean clothes in a minute."

"You can turn around now," he said presently. I did, and I tried not to be affected by the sight. I never thought he'd look so good with just a towel around his waist. He grinned crookedly, as if he knew what I was thinking, and I flushed. I whirled huffily and I silently lead him to my room. I sat him down on my bed and went to my dresser, giving him some basketball shorts and an old blink- 182 shirt to wear. I turned on my heating blanket to medium and then turned around again wordlessly. I tried not to think too hard about why he was there as he pulled on the shorts and struggled with the shirt. "Done," he said, and I glanced at him. He had a peculiar look on his face, and almost without thinking, I grabbed the trash can.

He threw up into it noisily and I winced, hoping my own stomach could handle the sight and smell. Once he was done, I put the trash can on the ground next to the bed. He definitely smelled better after his shower, and he looked a little healthier too. His hair clung in tendrils to his forehead, and beads of water rolled steadily down his face and neck. I blinked, concentrating, pushed him lightly onto the bed. I even tucked him in, and he chuckled. He seemed oddly relaxed with the whole awkward situation he had put us in. I stood next to the bed and pondered a minute. I hesitantly climbed in next to him, and he gave me a puzzled look.

"I don't want you choking on your puke in your sleep," I explained brusquely. And it was true, but I was only giving him one reason.

As we lay there in the quiet darkness, I thought. I thought about the past: he was the preppy jock, I was the choir nerd; we had spent time together; I had had a big crush on him, he treated me like I was a loser, I pretended that I didn't care. He had taught me a little about driving last summer; every Wednesday night in August we would drive around, sometimes until 11:30 at night. I thought about the present: why had he come here? Why me? And I thought about the future: how was I going to sneak him out of here without my mom noticing? Would he actually talk to me again? Truthfully, I had never stopped loving him, even if it was completely unrequited.

In just a few minutes, he was snoring softly next to me. I smiled affectionately, dropping the grumpy mask I had on, and brushed the messy hair out of his face. I scoffed at myself; I was pathetic. He was using me... and I loved it.