A/N: I have to write the funny. Hehe. ;)) This story will be entirely in Edward's point of view.
Thanks to Lfcpam, JayNahNah, and betsmecullen for being so awesome and for reading this thing multiple times. I love you guys. ;))
SM owns Twilight.
I wadded the wrapper from my burrito that I'd just downed for breakfast into a ball and aimed at the sink. I grinned in satisfaction at my perfect bank shot off the window. My trash can lay buried somewhere so the sink would have to do for now.
Grabbing my coat, I walked around the boxes piled in my living room, looking for my shoes because I had to get over to the diner. I snarled a string of curses when I caught my toe on a box and almost took a dive face first.
I locked up the house and climbed into my car, literally. I turned the ignition and… nothing. Narrowing my eyes, I turned and turned and turned it and still nothing. I yelled, banging my fist hard against the steering wheel. I immediately winced and grabbed my hand, holding it to my chest even more pissed off because now not only did I have no wheels, but my hand hurt like hell.
The driver's side door of my thirty-year-old Volvo wouldn't open so I had to haul my 6' 2" frame over the gear shift to the passenger side to get out of the stupid thing. Once I crawled out – being careful I didn't rip my nuts off – I angrily slammed the door shut as hard as I could. My eyes narrowed as a big chunk of rust dropped from the door onto the driveway. I really hated that car.
I plunked myself on the steps to the house that I'd just moved into and stared at that stupid Volvo.
The longer I sat the more pissed off I got.
"Hey there, how are ya?" I heard a male voice call out. I looked up to see an old homely guy approaching me.
"Hey," I replied, a bit wary.
"I live across the street," he said as he thumbed towards the house behind him. "I'm Waylon Forge."
He stuck out a hand covered in liver spots; I stood and shook it. "Edward Cullen."
"Good to meet ya. Saw the moving truck here yesterday, but didn't get a chance to come over. Where ya from?"
"Hmm…" he said, scratching the top of his mostly bald head. "What made you move to Forks?"
Inquisitions were not something that I particularly enjoyed participating in. I could see the old guy just wanted to be nice and neighborly, but I was in a foul mood and didn't feel like chatting it up.
"Um, there were a few reasons," I hedged. "Hey, do you know anything about cars?"
"Sure do. What seems to be the problem?"
"I don't know. It won't start," I said popping open the hood for him. Within ten minutes old Waylon had diagnosed my problem: I needed a new starter.
"I guess I'll have to have it towed somewhere…" I frowned, rubbing the back of my neck and looking around, trying to figure out what to do next. I didn't know a single thing about the town I'd just moved to, and I sure as heck didn't know anything about a starter.
"Well, I'll tell ya what. If you go buy a starter, I'll put it in for ya, no charge. Though, by how old this hunk-a-junk looks, it's probably gonna take a few days for it to come in."
I stared at the old guy for a moment, and that's when I noticed he had some kind of a weird tick going on. Every few seconds, he would scrunch his nose up like a rabbit. Twice, real quick-like. I tried not to stare, but found myself unable to stop. "Oh, no, I couldn't do that. I'd have to pay you something."
"Nonsense," he said. "You'll find living in a small town is a lot different than the big city. We always try to look out for each other here."
He unclipped a giant set of keys from his belt and took one of them off before handing it to me. "I own the marina down at the lake, and I gotta run down there real quick. Somebody was out fishing and their boat stalled on 'em so I gotta haul 'em back in. This key is to my old truck over there." He motioned towards a beat-up green clunker sitting in his driveway. "Take it into town and order a starter. I'll put it in for ya when it comes in."
He rattled off directions to a Swan Automotive and then took off for the marina. I climbed into his beat-up Ford pick-up truck and grabbed my nose when I got a whiff of what smelled like rank body odor mixed with a little rotten fish tossed up with a side of some jacked-up feet. I rolled the windows down, freezing my nads off and breathed only through my mouth. I definitely exceeded the speed limit on more than one occasion in my haste to get the heck out of that truck.
I decided I would take Waylon up on his offer to fix my car, but I'd force some money on the old man for the work. I had to get my car fixed somehow and cash was a bit scarce at the moment.
I easily found the automotive store. As I pulled into a front row spot, I saw a guy who looked to be about my age sitting in a lawn chair facing the big glass window of the store. He was a huge dude and had his hands spread out flat against the glass with his nose smashed against the window. I frowned completely confused because it was one of the weirdest things I'd ever seen. What in the world could the guy be looking at? He had to be freezing his nuts off since it couldn't have been more than thirty degrees outside.
I glanced around and didn't see another single soul in sight. And I could not for the life of me figure out what the guy was staring at inside an automotive store of all places. Did he have a thing for oil filters or something?
As I stood there and continued to gawk at him, I noticed what looked like several large signs of some sort leaning against the window beside him. I just shook my head. Forks seemed to be plum full of lunatics.
When I got to the entrance of the store, I paused before entering, staring at the odd dude one last time. He never once looked in my direction. He just sat there staring, completely transfixed on something inside that store, and my curiosity was killing me. I followed his line of sight to see if I could figure out what the weirdo was staring at and… that's when I saw her. And my, oh my, if she wasn't a sight to behold. My cock reared his nosy head and stood up, trying to get a closer look at her with me.
All I could see was legs... long, bare naked legs.
And creamy, pearl-colored skin, curvy calves and silky thighs...
Along with a pair of sky high black stilettos…
And a way too tight black skirt, hugging a perfectly round, bite-worthy little ass.
She wore a black and white T-shirt – definitely a size too small – outlining some perfectly perky tits.
Her long, dark hair flowed down her back, curling softly at the ends.
I had to take back every negative thought I had about the creeper sitting outside the window. No wonder that guy had a front row seat. Where was my lawn chair because my curious cock and I wanted to take up residence right next to the dude and enjoy the spectacular view.
My heart started doing all kinds of funky stunts in my chest as I watched in kind of a stunned daze as she walked slow and sexy in front of the counter before disappearing behind it. Did she work there? Because who wears something like that to work in an automotive store in the middle of winter? Eagerly, I yanked open the door, ready to find out more about the sexpot I'd just seen.
As I approached the desk, I frowned because she'd disappeared. I could swear I'd just seen that superhot chick go behind the counter.
I leaned over it and my lips instantly curled up as I stared down at her. She sat hunkered down behind the counter on a small step stool. Those sexy heels of hers were kicked off, lying on the floor in front of her. She had one leg crossed over the other, furiously massaging her small foot. Even her little toes were cute, the tips painted some sort of tempting red color. All the while she had ear buds in her ears, singing loud and horrifically off-key to Kelly Clarkson's Since U Been Gone.
I felt out of breath, and could not stop smiling. She was a total knock-out and completely adorable all packed into one hot little package.
She looked up at me, her eyes widening before she let out a shriek of terror. It was so loud and unexpected that it scared the hell out of me. I responded by letting out a small yell myself, but I kept it manly. Yeah, it was a manly sort of yell.
With a tug on her ear buds, she put her hand on her heaving chest. I tried really hard to not watch her tits as they moved up and down, but my misbehaving eyes went there anyway.
"Oh my god, you scared me half to death," she said before standing and letting out the cutest giggle. The sound caused a weird fluttering feeling in my gut. Or it might have been that leftover burrito I had for breakfast. Without those sky high heels on, she was quite tiny. I towered over her by at least a foot. I liked it. It made me feel more masculine after that probably-not-so-manly yell I just let rip.
"Sorry," I said with a chuckle. "I didn't mean to scare you."
She grinned back and shrugged. "That's okay. I kind of get wrapped up in my music sometimes. What can I help you with?"
She continued smiling at me as she leaned her elbows on the counter, waiting patiently for an answer. The movement pushed her tits together, and I wondered what her cleavage looked like under that tight shirt she sported. And what it would feel like to run my tongue over her creamy flesh.
When I finally made myself stop fantasizing about her tits, I remembered her question. And for some reason, I had absolutely no idea what I was in there for. So I just stood there, smiling at her like a stupid moron.
She smiled even wider and peeked around my shoulder. "Um, do you need something for your truck? Wait a minute, isn't that Waylon's truck?"
I turned and looked behind me and finally came back to my senses. "Oh, yeah, he let me borrow it. So what's with that guy at the window?"
"Oh. That's Jacob," she said nonchalantly. "So what can I help you with?"
I looked back at the Jacob dude who was watching us intently. I found it to be a bit disturbing. "Why is he sitting out there like that? Is he on strike or something?"
She giggled again. It was such an attractive sound. It made me feel funny. "No, he's just being his douchebag self," she said before she bent down and pulled out a pair of soft-looking, wooly black socks from underneath the counter. I watched as she quickly tugged them on her feet. Out next came a black hooded sweatshirt that she slipped over her head. On the front of it in bright red letters was "Swan Automotive."
I felt disappointed that she was covering up her cute little feet and perky tits, but I got over that quick when I saw what she did next. Using both hands, she gathered her hair together and pulled it out of her sweatshirt, letting it spill down her back. For a moment, I couldn't breathe. It was like I was watching one of those suntan commercials with the babe in the waterfall except this babe was covered up and the background was windshield wipers and motor oil. Nothing about her actions was the least bit sensual. She was just throwing on some socks and a sweatshirt and fixing her hair. But for some reason, I found her every movement to be erotic. My cock was watching too, and he definitely liked what he saw.
I cleared my throat, thankful that my happy cock was hidden behind the counter. "Why is he a douchebag?"
She tilted her head, tucking her hair behind her ear as she stared at me. "You're not from around here, are you?"
"No, I just moved here yesterday."
She nodded. "Well, if you lived here, you'd know why." Her hands slipped into the front of her sweatshirt. She didn't offer me anything else on the matter, but I couldn't let it go. I needed more information.
"Is he stalking you or something?"
She threw her head back and laughed. It was adorable, her laughter. Everything about her was adorable, and sexy. "Yes, he is definitely stalking me."
I turned my head and glared at Jacob, the douchebag stalker. I was ready to shove my foot up his creepy stalking ass. My glare turned to disbelief when he grabbed a sign and held it up to the window. It had 'I'm sorry. I love you' written in large, black messy letters. I turned back to the beautiful girl in front of me and gave her a 'what the heck was that?' look.
A small smile kissed her lips as she simply shrugged at me.
"Why don't you call the police and have him hauled off?"
"I will eventually, but until then, I actually want him stalking me."
I scowled as I studied her face for a moment. "Why would you want someone to stalk you? Do you have a thing for him or something?"
She shook her head. "Definitely not."
"Is it like a… fetish?" Was she into some kind of kinky role playing? I could be a creepy stalker for her if she was into that. And I could definitely make some signs.
I was dead serious with my question, but she threw her head back and laughed so hard that it got me tickled so I ended up laughing with her. She was so cute laughing like that. Once again, I could feel that weird sensation in my stomach. I was never going to eat a leftover burrito for breakfast ever again. She giggled as she wiped at the corner of her eyes. "Not a fetish. I want him to suffer. The douche cheated on me, and he needs to pay for what he's done."
That prick cheated on her? What a dickhead. I turned around and gave him another glare before I finally looked back at the gorgeous girl before me. "How long has he been stalking you?"
My mouth dropped open. "How long does he sit out there?"
"For however long my shift is."
"He stays out there the entire time?"
"Doesn't he have a job?" What kind of loser was this guy?
"Yeah, he works for his dad. His family has a lot of money so he doesn't really have to work."
Great. Now I hated the douche even more.
"Are you going to take him back, after you've punished him?" I asked.
"No way, he cheated. I just like making him suffer." Her pretty little cheeks turned rosy and she looked a little bashful as her fingers toyed with the edge of the counter. "I know it seems kind of weird, but every day I dress in something sexy and prance around letting him know what he's missing. It's kind of my way of getting back at him."
"He must have shit for brains if he cheated on you."
She threw me a sizzling half-grin that made my knees a little weak. Thank goodness I was holding onto the counter. "Exactly," she said. "I know I'm no bombshell or anything, but I'm not too sickening to look at."
"Hardly," I replied. She was a total bombshell and a complete knockout and had definitely knocked me on my ass.
We stared at each other until it started to get uncomfortable. I looked down at my shoes and rubbed the back of my neck. "Oh. Uh, I need to buy a starter."
"Sure," she said. I gave her the year, make, and model of my car. She looked it up on the computer and of course they didn't have it in stock. They could order it, but it would take three days to get it. I told her to order it.
"Your name?" she asked with a cute twinkle in her eyes.
"Cullen, Edward Cullen." The corners of her mouth tipped up before she typed it into the computer. I gave her my address and cell. She printed me off a receipt and handed it to me.
"We'll call you as soon as it comes in."
"Thanks." I shoved the receipt in my coat pocket and stared at her. I didn't want to leave so I needed to come up with something.
I quickly cleared my throat. "You know I was thinking… there is another way you could get back at that douchebag."
She leaned closer to me and grinned. "And that would be…?"
"You could use somebody to make him jealous," I said wiggling my eyebrows and giving her my sexiest grin.
Her smile slowly faded as she pushed away from the counter looking annoyed. I frowned, instantly regretting my words. "I don't think so. I don't play those kinds of games, and trust me I've had just about every guy in this town offer to do that for me already."
The phone next to the register rang. "I need to answer that. We'll call you when your starter comes in." She nodded and gave me a forced smile before she turned her back to me, answering the phone.
I'd just been dismissed.
I stood there for a minute, nervously drumming my fingers on the counter, debating what to do. I felt like a dick. I don't know what possessed me to say that to her. I was just trying to flirt with her or… I don't know what the heck I was trying to do. I stared at her unbelievable ass and spectacular legs for a few seconds longer before I finally decided to leave before my mouth got me into any more trouble.
As I walked towards the door, the stalker no longer stared at the beauty behind the counter. His hatred-filled eyes were all on me. I glared back at him with as much nasty as I could conjure.
On my way back home as my ears started to get frostbite from hanging my head out the window of Waylon's funked-up ride, all I could think about was that incredible girl behind the counter.
And how I had opened my idiotic mouth, shoved my ratty Converse inside, and managed to screw things up.
I had to make it up to her.
I would, and soon. I just didn't know how yet.