EDB'S A/N: Hello everyone! This was a little story we put together for the Friends to Lovers Contest. Because who doesn't love a man who can say 'cuntybugge ryfucktole ybumshite'? Hehe. I wrote Edward, Angelycdevil wrote Bella. Enjoy!

AD's A/N: The gorgeous LyricalKris and GeekChic12 beta'd this mini-fic, and Twilightladies1 helped us make Scotward more Scottish, though Snarkella is all ours. ;-) (I promise, fortunately… or unfortunately, there are no kilts involved.)

4500 Miles

If I get drunk, well, I know I'm gonna be

I'm gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you

-100 Miles (I'm Gonna Be), The Proclaimers


It's a hundred and fifteen yards in length and seventy-four in width. Three hundred and seventy-eight yards is its perimeter.

The distance I'll have to run.

It's not too bad, I guess. It's only about a quarter mile. It'll take about five minutes...and become the most humiliating five minutes of my life.

I'm not one to be self-conscious about my body. It's a body; everyone has one. It's not perfect, nor does it resemble a skinny runway model's, but it does its job quite efficiently, and I'm happy with it. Even now, when I have to run a quarter mile—gulp—completely naked, I still don't regret my body, its cushiness or its pale tone. I just wish I hadn't been so lazy and worked out at least once a week.

Okay, I'll stop lying to myself. I'm fat and now... oh, God. This is going to be mortifying. Why the fuck did I agree to this? What kind of person makes a bet like this! But wait, Emmett. That pervy jackass. Ugh.

"Oy, Swan, time's a-wastin'! Strip for me, baby!" Emmett hollers from right behind me. I huff. Drunk idiot. Let's get this over with. I begin to take my jacket off...in my head. I need to find a way out of this. Come on, Swan, think fast.

"Bella?" I jump as a pair of arms grab my shoulders.

"What?" I whip around so fast I almost break Edward's nose. It would've been his fault since he was standing so close. Sneaky son of a bitch.

"I'll do it. Yer obviously uncomfortable with the idea, and that's the last thing I want ya to be." He smiles at me, his eyes kind. He gets those from his father, Carlisle Cullen (a.k.a. DILF of the century.) He also gets his nose, height and ridiculously long eyelashes from DILFy. I mean seriously, us girls lump tubes of mascara on those tiny hairs for length and volume, but the guys are born with long, perfectly curled lashes. Hmph.

"Ummm, Bella?"

I blink. I think he said something again. Dammit, I should really stop zoning out. "Huh?"

He leans forward with a devilish glint in his eyes. "I said if I do it, ya owe me something."

I narrow my eyes in suspicion. "Something?"

"Yes, something. I dinnae know what yet, but I promise it won't be as ridiculous as this."

Should I trust him? Well, he's Edward. I'm 99.99% sure I'm better off making a deal with Edward than Emmett. It's not like it's my soul on the line. So as much as I don't like backing down, I nod because there's no way in Hell I'm running naked around a soccer field...or worse, getting naked in front of Emmett.

Edward smiles again, and I'm distracted by his pearly white teeth. Did I mention Carlisle is a dentist? Lucky bastard. Edward stumbles slightly as he walks backward (which he really shouldn't be doing with two bottles of beer inside him), and I watch as he sweet-talks Emmett into letting him run instead of me. Actually, I'm pretty sure he's threatening the behemoth by the look his face...or maybe it's blackmail because one simply does not threaten Emmett McCarty. I don't know what the hell he said, though I would love to know, but seconds later, Edward Cullen is stripping.

I watch with slight fascination as he removes his jacket and button-down in one smooth motion and pulls his gray t-shirt over his head. I may or may not be ogling his side muscles. I mean, I know he works out, but I've never imagined that he looks this good. He should be a goddamn model, not a doctor.

Edward catches my stare and winks. Cocky fucker.

I reply by sticking my tongue out and turning my back to him like a mature adult. I hear him unzip his pants, and I'm tempted to take a peek. I've overheard Jess fawning over his cock (she's his ex-girlfriend), and I'm pretty sure one of these days, she's going to build a shrine for it. Now you can see why I must know. Thankfully, Emmett, being his ignorant, drunk self, starts hollering for his Rosy, and I pretend to look back at him in annoyance while peeking at Edward's naked form.

Alright, I want to make it clear Edward is my FRIEND, and there's no way in hell he'll actually be interested in my fat ass, before I (this is a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence, people) agree with Jessica Stanley. Hell, I'll probably help build the fucking shrine because he is quite well-hung. I mean, it's not a monstrosity or something, just average...when he's not even hard.

I try to keep the blood from rushing to my face, because I'm not a nun, but with the thoughts that are involuntarily running through my head about my FRIEND, I'm not exactly going to heaven. I know he was never the lanky nerdy boy, but I never expected this. This has forced me to consider why he doesn't have women flocking around him. He should. Maybe he's gay and never told me? Nah, he's too...straight for that. I never really got the gay vibe from him. Besides, from what I gathered, Edward wasn't always this nice. I'm sure he was never cruel, but I remember Jessica mentioning that he was a loner of sorts. That is quite believable considering Emmett, Rose and I are his only close friends. Edward talks easily, but he only hangs out with a few. He's always had this charm about him...as if he can never do anything wrong, but he never takes advantage of that. No, I've always been grateful to Emmett and Rose, who keep him grounded in that regard.

Speaking of the Devil, Rose calls me over to sit next to her on the bleachers. Emmett's near the track, whistle and timer in hand.

"What's with the stopwatch?" I nudge Rose.

She shrugs. "They made another bet."

I roll my eyes. I'm never making a bet again in my life.

I watch in fascination and gratitude as Edward crouches down, his lean, muscular body ready to sprint, while Emmett counts down. Exactly at 'one', Edward shoots forward (I have also mentioned that he's on the track team, yes?). I'm quite surprised Emmett doesn't have his phone out, recording the whole thing, but I shouldn't give him any ideas. I turn back to see Edward on the far side of the track. He's already halfway done. Grrrrr...

I half-watch him as he finishes the round, flying past Emmett, because likesay, normal people don't ogle at their friend's naked body. But apparently, I fail to be discreet enough as Rose nudges me with her elbow and winks.

I, of course, blush. Damn blush.