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Summary: Perhaps it's the history between us, or perhaps it's the blatant denial of the obvious. There's chemistry, tension and feelings we downplay for our own sanity. But what if that's wrecking it. One measly joke from him changed our trajectory, finally chipping at the walls we've built. I've never wanted to ruin the friendship more. But what if nothing but hurt replaces it? ExB, cannon couples, lemons, RatedM.

Characters belong to Stephanie Meyer


One: The Idea

Chocolate ice cream misses my mouth and drips onto my laptop.

Shit.

I wipe it away quickly with the corner of my sweatshirt.

I lost my job today.

Granted it was a shit job to begin with, but it was useful for things like rent and not starving.

I had cried about it like a normal unstable 20 something year old, while watching Gilmore Girls and stalking Taylor Swift's Instagram page.

Now I am job hunting.

Desperate for something I can do. Something other than be a slob without a cause.

Before I just made coffee. Before my boss smacked my ass and fired me after I threw the cup I was making right at his stupid face.

It was a long black. Extra hot. One sugar.

I could complain. I should complain. But with no proof it's not worth it. He was always shady.

So I sit in my stupid little Seattle apartment on my stupid slow laptop searching for another minimum wage job with decent tips.

To pay my way through the last of my degree. To avoid having to move home to my father in Forks, Washington with my tail between my legs.

My best friends had texted me GIFs in response to the news of my firing. Insults aimed at my boss that made me laugh.

Rosalie Hale and Alice Cullen.

I often think we wrote the book on friendship. For the past few years they'd been my glue. We'd taken college by storm and we're soon to take on the world too.

I was an English major hopeful to squeeze my way into publishing. I'd tried my hand and interning, but post graduation plans were still kind of up in the air.

Alice lived for fashion. Rosalie is sure to take on the best art galleries in the world.

They both were the cause for many rowdy nights. For many sad ones too.

When Rosalie had yet again called it quits on her on again/off again boyfriend Emmett Cullen we were there.

Right now they're on. I think. She mentioned sex in the chat earlier. She only had it with other people to get back at Emmett. That was mainly freshman year behaviour. I'm certain she doesn't do that anymore.

It's a coupling so toxic. But it works. Emmett was Alice's brother so they were constantly in one another's orbit.

Rosalie's cousin Jasper Hale. That was Alice's man. They were couple goals. Endgame. They'll be married within the next few years I'm certain. He looks at her like she hung the moon.

As for me. I'm single.

Probably because I couldn't hold down a job at a fucking coffee house.

"We could go out? - R"

My phone vibrates beside me.

I don't want to.

"Nope," I type out, balancing the spoon in my mouth, hitting send.

"Swan!" A voice shouts through the apartment.

Jumping slightly, I glance up at my bedroom door.

My roommate stands there, shirtless and sweaty. Returning from his nightly run around the neighbourhood. We lived roughly twenty minutes from school. Students mainly lived in the area. Minus our neighbour Burt. He was an old man who screamed at us for parking an inch over our driveway and on his lawn. A real male Karen.

"You seriously pigging out on my ice cream?" He glares at me.

"Desperate times," I say, pulling the spoon from my mouth, "there's some left."

He stalks into my room, ripping the tub from my hand.

There's barely a teaspoon left.

"You're buying more," he points at me.

"Can't you just lick that chick from the other night?" I offer.

"You're disgusting," he hands me back the tub.

"Yet you were the one eating her out at two in the morning," I smirk.

"Bella," Edward's eyes are magic.

He probably just needed to look at that girl and she would have dropped her panties.

He was Alice's big brother. Also another one of my best friends. Before you ask - NOTHING romantic has or ever will happen. Except for that one drunk time in freshman year.

We don't talk about it.

Nothing though. I swear. But when he stands there shirtless, a bead of sweat slipping down to his waistband where he packs that perfect V muscle. As he runs a hand through his messy auburn hair, green eyes glued to me…

I'm only human! A female human who hasn't had action in a while…

Nothing though. I even put it in bold so we are all clear.

But when I needed a new place to stay (the old place had mould and the landlord didn't care), Edward offered me a room.

I'd agreed. Since we've become fast friends. Probably closer than the friendship I hold with his little sister.

"I got fired today. But I'll find something else," I say.

"Don't stress about it. I don't need rent," he shrugs.

He wouldn't. His family could buy Italy if they wanted. His father was the next 'ionaire' above a billionaire. That's dramatic. But probably true.

He never wanted rent in the first place. But I'd insisted. Some weeks I fell short and he said nothing. Other weeks he suggested I just do his laundry to repay him. He never made a big deal.

A gentleman.

"I need to pay rent," I shake my head, "even if I have to strip."

"You have zero rhythm," he rolls his eyes.

"Why does that matter?" I ask.

"Strippers tend to have it," he teases, "you can't even sway your hips to a beat."

"Oh fuck off," I laugh, "I gave a lap dance to your football buddy."

Edward was the school football captain. Of course. He studies law. Of course. He is literally perfection and every girl wants him.

But not me. Remember how I said nothing?

"You were grinding your vagina in his crotch," he laughs, "any man would appreciate that. Doesn't make you stripper worthy."

"Oh yeah?" I challenge.

"Do you need us to visit a local strip club to prove it? I'm sure Emmett would take you," he lifts a novel I'd carelessly thrown on my desk, reading the blurb.

"Edward. Men would line up," I smirk.

"Your milkshake brings all the boys," he opens the cover of the book, "I'm stealing this."

"If I had an onlyfans I'd rake it in," I throw my laptop down and climb off my bed, following him into the kitchen.

He laughs loudly, heading into his room on the opposite side of the apartment.

"Sure you would," he calls out.

That's when I made an account. Yep. I created an onlyfans account to prove a point to my ridiculously hot roommate.

For a few weeks it sat without a profile photo. A generic name and a forgotten password. But when the struggle to actually get a decent paying job became real (that could meet the rent he agreed I could pay) I logged back in. I had a job. Tips just weren't what I needed.

So I clicked 'forgot password' and googled "how to only fans" like the pathetic mess I am.


Thanks so much for reading

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