A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update! I know, you all want to throw tomatoes and pitchforks at me, and you don't want excuses, you want results…but school is kicking my ass. My super super sorry ass that wishes writers block would go pee up a rope….anyway. I don't own Twilight, or anything else you recognize. I'm not a college student, so I'm doing my best with what I know. Please forgive any errors...if you tell me what it's supposed to be, I can fix it and make the story as accurate as possible. Marriott is a line of really nice hotels, but they're not wildly expensive. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 2: Hate at First Sight

As we pulled up at the dormitories, I got my first experience of college life. A group of shirtless jocks were throwing footballs at each other, drinking beer, and some of the drunker ones were slurring the lyrics to the explicit rap songs booming from the portable stereo. In a corner I'm sure they thought was secluded, a couple was making out. I rolled my eyes, and pulled into one of the few close, non-parking garage spots without a handicap or thirty minute parking sign. You never can be too careful, after all, getting raped wouldn't put freshman year off to a very good start, would it now?

"Ali, what's the number? And is it in block A or B? I know it's not in C, those look too fancy."

"The number is Three hundred and sixty-five. It's that ironic?"

"Not really, it's just a number."

"Duh it's a number! But I was talking about how there's three hundred and sixty-five days in a year..." She drifted off.

"I know you probably feel all smarticle after that one, but I call BS."

"Smarticle? You're calling me out on the word ironic, which is actually a real word, even if it's a matter of opinion what's ironic or not, and you use a fake word? Really?"

This is why I loved Alice so much. She brought me back down to earth when I got...snobbish. Or, she joined in. That was even more entertaining. We were an odd pair. Alice was bubbly, a shopaholic, welcoming to change, and could probably do the Energizer bunny's job better than the rabbit himself. Only, if I happened to say that aloud, she'd make a pervy joke over it – the "rabbit" part mainly. I was the opposite: except for when I was around my closest friends, I was shy, withdrawn, and preferred reading, writing, and cooking to social activity of almost any kind. Alice always said the guys from our highschool looked at me like I was something to eat, but obviously she was delusional. Me? Yeah, I couldn't make a sex joke to save me life. Yet we clicked, and here we were.

Peering around the dorm, there were no sign of our roommate. We plopped down on the couch to wait.

"Bel, didn't the email say we would meet at our rooms? Or am I hallucinating?"

"No you're right. She should be here...assuming it's a she? It's supposed to be organized by gender right?" I said; I was a bit concerned.

"Take a chill pill. Hey, a birth control pill wouldn't hurt either. And I have no idea how they organize dorm rooms. Do I look like a boring old college administrator? Say no."

"Alice! Would you stop trying to imply I should get laid? And of course you don't, silly. You're quite the fashionista. Are you happy now?"

She grinned. "Yes, of course I'm happy! But getting laid might not be a bad idea."

"Ali…"

"I know, I know, you're not going to go clubbing with me again so I can get drunk and find someone to go home with. But you will," Alice chirped.

She was right though, over the summer we had borrowed I.D.s from her older brother's ex girlfriend, Tanya, and Tanya's sister, Jasmine. It worked perfectly, since Alice had always wanted to try out the strawberry blonde hair color, so she temporarily dyed it strawberry blond; my hair and features closely matched Jasmine's. We went out to a club in Portland, telling our parents before we left Saturday afternoon that we were going on a shopping expedition, and staying the night at a Marriott so we could continue shopping first thing in the morning. Mrs. Cullen, or Esme, as she told us to call her, gave us a knowing wink before we left, but didn't stop us. After a little, no, way too much shopping crammed into a few hours, we had clubbing outfits, lingerie, and three enormous bags of clothes as proof of our shopping trip. Sometimes Alice's unlimited credit card was a godsend. Shortly after we narrowly got into the club, thanks to a spazz attack by yours truly, we were buzzed up from the alcohol. Well, I was buzzed, Alice was drunk. She ended the night by almost hooking up with a hottie she met.

The idea of doing it again made her start bouncing up and down. She clearly got the energy from yours truly, because I visibly deflated at the thought of the sweaty, sticky, alcohol-reeking mass of bodies collectively grinding on the dance floor.

We camped out on the couch and waited for the missing person of our rooming triumvirate. I know that word probably wasn't appropriate, but it sounded cool. I was definitely spending too much time with Ali.

Just as I was beginning to wonder if our roomie had dropped out, the lock slowly turned and the door opened. This was our roommate? I had never planned on partying much in college, and I definitely wasn't now, since whoever I managed to bring home would ditch me in hopes of getting her. If I remember correctly, her name was Rosalie. Whatever her name was, Rosalie was tall, blonde, and probably could have a career as a model. Instead, she hid behind a curtain of hair, and quietly greeted us without an explanation of her lateness.

"Are you Rosalie Hale? Are we in the right room?" Alice asked.

Rosalie nodded.

"So…what happened? And you know you can say more than one word with us, we don't bite," I told her, but before the words were fully out of my mouth, Al added her say so.

"I'd say unless you're into that, and you look great and all but I don't swing that way."

Rosalie looked offended, and walked to the room filled with her belongings, slamming the door behind her. A few seconds later heavy metal started blasting.

"Did I say something? What, is she a lesbian?" Ali wondered aloud.

"I have no idea."

Sitting in my first official college class, History 101, I felt like the biggest noob. The noobiest noob of all noobs. I was early, at least, but I didn't know anyone. The rest of the room was chattering with their neighbors, and many of them acted like they knew each other. Naturally, my socially reclusive side was dominant, since I was in an uncomfortable situation with no escape hatch.

Fortunately, class started up soon, and the old man that would apparently be our professor for the semester took his place in front of the class, hitched his pants, and started the boring beginning of the year speech I recognize so well from high school. Although at least when he had us introduce ourselves, he told us to tell as much as we were comfortable with, and didn't pressure us to tell everyone every single freaking detail since birth.

I didn't remember what anyone in the class said except for three.

The first, was a huge hulk of a guy, all muscle and I was concerned the chair couldn't support his weight. Emmett, or Em, as he told us to call him, was a laugh but I could tell he wasn't all brawn. Totally not my type, but I needed to reach out and make new friends. He filled spot number one on the list of people who I wanted to get to know better.

The second was a bubbly brunette with big hair. Naturally big, fluffy, curly hair cut to around shoulder length. A little on the "rounder" side, Tammy put everyone at ease.

The third confused me. Insanely hot, like hott with two t's, he caught the eye of every girl in the room. If only he had kept his foolish mouth shut. But he didn't, so I loathed his extraordinary sex appeal, his whorish ways, his smooth, suave voice that seemed almost musical, his reddish brownish golden bronze hair that I wanted to run my hands through, his muscled back that I could see through his tee shirt when he turned around to pick his pencil up off the floor, and most of all, his piercing green eyes. Maybe if I had known him longer before I discovered he was a man whore, maybe if he hadn't been molesting the sluttily dressed blonde with fake boobs to his right with his eyes, I wouldn't have felt the deep burn of anger sweep through me. However, the first words out of his lickable lips condemned him.

"I'm Edward Cullen, and I love pussy. If you don't know me," he paused to add a lascivious wink, "You probably will soon."

Ugh. Why were all the good ones either gay or sluts, like this…ass. Hott ass, I'm sure, although sitting down I couldn't see. He, as I decided to call him, forced tings out of me that I didn't know existed. I didn't know I could get this affected just by looking at a man; I considered myself a prude, actually. I didn't know that I had an opinion of people like him, who were regularly trafficked by anyone that wished. I didn't know that I could hate someone just for that reason. I didn't know I could curse that much, even just in my own head. But all of these were true; and I had no idea what to do.

I said my peace for the intro thing, simply going with the facts: that I'm a freshman, my name is Bella Swan, and I hate being called Isabella. Okay, it might have been a bit uptight, but I wanted to provide an image of me being unlike his conquests, and that was the easiest way. Better for everyone to think I was a cold, stiff brat than to be another notch on his belt.

When class was over and I had three pages of notes of things that probably had nothing to do with the material in the course, I returned to the dorm room to sulk and try to figure out the feelings boiling inside me. Alice would be gone, having a job at a local retail unit until later that afternoon. It was the perfect time for me to brood, without bothersome interruptions and interventions that my bestie insisted on.

As I settled down in the living room kitchen area, a mug crammed with three scoops of ice cream, a soft voice from behind me caught my attention.

"Sorry I didn't introduce myself before. I'm Rosalie, but please call me Rose. I don't talk to many people, and I've been betrayed one too many times to be friendly with strangers. My life has made me a cynic, and people avoid me. I don't usually do the whole friends thing, but it looks like you don't really have any friends, besides the crazy with a pixie cut."

Shocked at her speech, I replied quickly, "I'm sorry that you don't really have anyone...and you're right, I do need friends. Alice is like a sister to me, we're that close. So, Rose, what are you majoring in?" I was impressed with my own social capacity, I actually sounded like a human being, not the icy, isolated person Ali admitted I often was.

"I want to be a psychologist…help people overcome the crappy stuff that shouldn't happen to anyone, but does."

"Rose, that's….really noble. I wish I had such great aspirations, but I'm just a literature major."

She laughed, and told me that it was better I was the literature major, she'd rather lose a limb than have all the reading.

And so I made my first friend at college, and my first enemy.

A/N: Again, sorry about the delay! I'm trying to get ahead of my workload so hopefully chapters will be coming in sooner.

I really appreciate your amazing reviews – also the story and author favorites and follows! I'd love your opinions on this chapter, and any ideas you have for the stories. Really, anything you have to say about the story is welcome. Thank you for reading and reviewing!