BPOV

I walked out of a classroom for the last time ever. I, Bella Swan, had just completed my last exam in my last course in my last year of law school. My complex litigation seminar had been a real bitch (and so was my instructor, Professor Volturi), but I had done it. Three long years of reading until I feel asleep drooling on my textbooks, studying until my eyes crossed in my head, arguing until my blood pressure rose to unacceptable levels, and mainlining coffee until I was sure my pounding heart would beat right out of my chest was about to pay off.

I whipped my cell phone out of my satchel and smiled at the text message that was waiting for me. Charlie, my dad, had left a simple "Go get 'em, kid" text. I hit a button to call him as I walked out into the warm Manhattan day.

"Bells! I object!" he shouted in greeting. I chuckled a bit; my dad was still the goofball he had always been when I was growing up in teeny tiny Forks, Washington.

"Hi Charlie. I'm done. Really done."

"REALLY done?"

"I'm REALLY fucking done!" I yelled. I didn't care about the sidelong glances I received from my fellow Columbia University students. I would be the least interesting thing they saw or heard today.

"Cripes, I'm so proud of you, kid. Are you doing anything tonight to celebrate?"

"Yeah, I think Ang and I are going for one last night out on the town before I head back to Washington. I still have a ton of packing to do and I'll probably begin shipping boxes to you tomorrow if that's okay. Will you still be able to pick me up from the airport on Sunday?"

"Of course! I can't wait to see you!"

"You too, dad. I'm going to head home and wrap my mind around the fact that I'm actually done with law school, okay? I love you and I'll see you in a few days."

"Love you too, Bells. Bye."

I disconnected the call and headed for the subway. Angela, a fellow law student and my roommate for the past three years, was waiting at our apartment. She had wrapped everything up yesterday and was impatiently waiting for my big finish so we could go out and celebrate. Tonight was Operation Get Laid. For both of us. What can I say? Law school takes a lot out of a girl, and sexin' someone up had not been at the top of my priority list for a very long time.

I walked up the stairs to our third floor apartment. I certainly wouldn't miss the sixty-three step trip, though I would miss being able to use it as my excuse for not really exercising.

I turned the key in the locks and let myself in. I could hear loud music coming from Angela's room. I threw my stuff on the floor and stepped out of my flats. A large envelope on the kitchen counter caught my interest, and my eyes widened as I recognized the crest on the upper left hand corner's return address information. It was from Cullen, Platt, & Hale and it was addressed to me!

I snatched the envelope up and lightly brushed my fingers over my name and address, drawing in a deep breath. I practically ran down our short hall to Angela's door and knocked loudly enough to be heard over the blaring music.

I barged in without waiting for a response. Angela looked up from her bed, where she was reading the new issue of Bon Appetit. Her face split into a giant smile as she jumped off the bed, grabbed me, and started jumping up and down.

"We're done! We're done! Oh my fucking god, did you ever think this day would come?" I laughed along with her exuberant display until we were both breathless and fell backwards onto her bed.

"So," I started. "What do you think could be in this envelope?"

Angela looked at me hopefully, knowing that the one thing I wanted most could be in that letter. On the other hand, everything I had been working toward for the past few years could be crushed with just a few words.

I had wanted to work at Cullen, Platt, & Hale since I read about them my first year of law school. They were located in Seattle and were one of the top law firms in the country. Not only did they hire brilliant lawyers, but they had a reputation of being good, ethical people. It was exactly the place I wanted to be, and I had spent many excruciating hours over the past few months wondering if I should even bother applying. Why would they want me? I had excellent grades and was graduating near the top of my class, but I was small town Bella Swan.

I had swallowed my self-doubt one night about four weeks ago (along with a nice pour of Woodford Reserve, neat) and completed the online application. I sent along my transcripts and several very nice letters of recommendation from professors past and present. I hoped that my near-flawless record and some pretty words would go as far as I needed them to. About a week later, I received a call asking if I was interested in a telephone interview. I very nearly dropped the phone and likely took too long to respond with a shaky, "yes, please!" before meshing out the details. Carlisle Cullen called me a few days after that, and I eventually flew out to Seattle for a face-to-face meeting. Everyone was so nice, from the receptionist to the firm's partners. I left wanting a job there more than I wanted to take my next breath.

Since then, I had driven myself absolutely fucking nuts over it. Obviously there were a million other law firms I could apply to, but there was only one I really wanted to be with.

I brought myself back to the present and Angela, who was looking at me expectantly. My heart was pounding in my chest and I was getting a little nauseous to boot. I rubbed my fingers across my forehead, stalling.

"What if it doesn't say what I want it to say?" I asked Ang.

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Then you apply somewhere else. Bella, you're graduating from Columbia Law with a 3.95 GPA. You won a national Moot Court competition. You belong to more honor societies than anyone should have the decency to admit and you put in three times as many hours at the pro bono clinic than everyone else. You're the best debater I know and your brain has this really fucking annoying way of getting to the crux of an argument faster and smarter than everyone around you. Seriously. If Cullen doesn't want you, they've got some seriously rusty screws up there."

I exhaled dramatically, kissed Ang on the cheek for being the best pep-talker this side of the Hudson River, and slid my finger under the envelope's flap towards my future.

AN: this is my first crack at fan fiction, so let me know if you're interested in seeing where this goes. Edwards POV is next up, but it might take a few days to get into the character I want him to be. I know this is short, but I just wanted to get it out there.

PT