Disclaimer: We don't own any part of the Twilight Universe. Drunksper, however, belongs solely to me.

And awaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay we go!

For the first and only time since I'd moved to goddamn Forks. . .hell, for the first fucking time ever, I felt absolutely. . .

Nothing.

I was standing at my window, my arms folded across my chest as I glared through the glass, watching Cullen's fairy ass booking it across my yard. The front of my shirt was still damp from his fucking tongue, and I knew I should probably feel cold as a gust of moldy Forks air swept through my open window.

But I couldn't. Because all I could feel was. . .just fucking nothing.

I kept my eyes locked on Cullen as he dashed wildly towards the forest that bordered my yard. A strangely numb and almost frozen feeling seemed to take hold of me as I continued to stare out the window, watching Cullen scrambling away from me like his life fucking depended on it. I actually really fucking wished I could laugh as I saw him eat shit on a tree root, then go tumbling ass over elbows before his face smashed straight into the ground. That shit was fucking hilarious, and it served his bitch ass right, too - and although I knew it, I just. . .couldn't fucking feel it.

What just happened?

I had no clue. One minute, Edward had been in my arms, all tangled in me, touching and sucking me like he was a dying man and I was the only piece of ass he'd ever fucking seen. He had been all around me, breathing my name, moaning into my mouth, and begging me to come for him while pretty much fucking me straight through my clothes. And just as I had been sure that said clothes were going to come flying off, he had ran out on me like his ass was on fire.

Again.

I really fucking wished I could feel something as I replayed the ridiculous scene in my head, but I was still numb as I thought back to the wild look that had flashed in his eyes as he had straddled my window. I had never seen anything like that look before, and I sure as fuck didn't know what to make of it. And then he had run back to me, kissing me so fucking hard but not nearly enough before he had sailed through my window again, taking off like a bat out of hell.

I started wondering if I was having some kind of allergic reaction to him as I tried unsuccessfully to move away from my window. I mean, he had spent entirely too much time scaling trees and shit - which was probably not very healthy. What if I'd caught something from his tree-swinging ass?

Why couldn't I move? Why couldn't I fucking feel anything? And why the fuck was my chest so goddamn tight?

But right at that moment, I heard the unmistakable screech of squealing tires, echoing from somewhere in the distance.

And that was when it fucking hit me.

What?! The?! Fuck?!

A fucking blinding rage surged through me, restoring the use of my limbs as I shrieked and grabbed the closest object to me, then cocked that shit back and hurled it straight at the wall.

The drinking glass shattered with a satisfying crash, but it didn't help any as the jagged shards fell to the floor, mixing with the pieces of my lamp that the Jackass himself had knocked over in his quest to not-really-get-into my pants. I growled viciously as I slammed my window down, smacking it hard against the sill before flying to my bed and burying my face into my pillows.

The scream that I let loose was pretty fucking ungodly, and I kept it up until my throat was raw and my lungs were aching from the effort. I had never been so enraged in my entire life. What in the fuck did that cocklick think he was doing? The fucking game he was playing had officially gone too damn far, and I beat my fist against my mattress as I called him every name in the book - and some pretty fucking new ones, too.

I just couldn't believe he had done that to me. This entire thing was turning into a mindfuck of epic proportions, and I squeezed my eyes shut as frustrated tears welled behind my eyes. It wasn't even like I was crying - it was more like my rage was leaking straight out of my eyeballs, and I kicked the foot board of my bed as the hot tears began soaking my pillow. Was Cullen fucking ill? Because this shit just didn't make any sense anymore. I had always assumed he had some motherfucking game going on - some angle he thought he could fucking play. But goddamnit, what guy would go flying out a second-story bedroom window, dick at full-mast, and fucking enjoy it?

Masochistic son of a bitch.

There had to be more than that though. This was twice now that Edward had done this. Twice now that he'd come so close to me - to finally taking me like I knew he damn well wanted to - then spontaneously ran the fuck out on me like I was the goddamn swine flu!

I swiped furiously at my face as I thought back to the fucked up kiss he had planted on me right before diving out my window like Super Agent Titty Suck or some shit. What was that? It reminded me of those douchey war movies - you know, where the guy has to go on some suicidal mission or other, so he takes a minute to suck face with some girl before running head-first into fucking ground zero. Which really didn't make any sense, because the only thing his bitch ass needed to be afraid of was me.

Because I was going to Fucking. Kill. Him. The Big Ugly One wasn't going to have shit on Cullen's face once I got my hands on him.

I sighed and punched my mattress once more for good measure before rolling out of bed and storming to my dresser. That motherfucker's saliva was still all the fuck over me, and I didn't hesitate as I yanked the top drawer open, then slammed that bitch shut as hard as I could. I wasn't worried about Charlie at this point - if that drunk fuck was capable of waking up, I was pretty sure it would have happened some time between falling lamps and flying water glasses. He really was the most convenient drunkard I'd ever fucking met.

I stripped my shirt off as fast as possible, then balled it up and threw it into the trash, just for good measure. Who did that asshole think he was, anyway? I mean, Jesus Christ, I would have a better chance trying to seduce the fucking Pope the way this shit was going! I sneered at the wall as I pulled a fresh shirt on and stomped back to bed. Sure, Cullen was hot - probably the hottest guy in this entire Population:5 town. But I was Bella Fucking Swan. Men fell all over me. Men fell to their fucking knees just to be near me. I mean, it was like they couldn't fucking help themselves -

I froze.

Couldn't help themselves.

My jaw actually fell open, and I slumped onto my bed as I let the words roll through me.

Oh my God.

He couldn't help himself.

My face twisted into a weird cross between elation and confusion as I realized that Cullen hadn't run out on me just to fuck with me. He had screwed up. He hadn't meant to start shit with me - he just Couldn't. Fucking. Help it.

Well. . .of course he couldn't. Bella Fucking Swan, remember?

Of course, this all meant that I had been that close to winning this fucked up, take-all game. I couldn't quite decide whether that was a mini-victory, or an epic fail, but I quickly decided it was a moot point anyway. The real question was what in the goddamn hell could be worth such a scathing case of blue balls? Seriously - what the fuck could be worth resisting me?

I shook my head as I crawled into bed and pulled the covers over me. The fact remained that I still didn't know what this shit centered around - and in all honesty, I really didn't know how much more I could take. This touch-and-run bullshit had to end - and fuck if I wasn't going to be the one to do it. Because one more fuck-up like this, and Cullen was going to earn himself a one-way ticket to the fucking hospital - minus a nut or two.

I huffed before closing my eyes and burying my face into my pillow. Tomorrow was Sunday, which meant I wouldn't have to see his dumb ass for a full 24 hours - which was pretty fucking lucky for that pretty face of his. I was, however, going to get my fine ass down to business - and I was going to need to be well-rested to do it.

I took a deep breath and tried to shut my mind down, trying to let sleep overtake me. And it worked, for the most part.

Except for one, tiny part of my mind that couldn't seem to shut the hell up. A part that never quite managed to turn off that night, but continued to nag at me, even when sleep finally came.

And it was that part that continued to replay every, single moment of Cullen's wild, frustrating, final kiss - even in my dreams.

******

"Ouch! Motherfuckincocksuckincuntmuchinsonofabitch. . ."

I kept up my stream of profanities as I assessed the damage to my finger. Sure enough, a tiny drop of blood was already seeping from the small cut.

Bloodshed before 9 am? Fan-fucking-tastic.

I rolled my eyes before glowering disdainfully down at the pile of broken glass before me. It had been the first thing I had seen when I had woken up, and my mood had turned immediately vile. The fact that I would have to clean up the mess that Cullen had left behind only added insult to injury - and I'd thought very fucking seriously about rolling off the other side of the bed and completely ignoring it. But the idea of leaving scattered shards of glass all over my floor didn't seem like a particularly genius thing to do either, so with a growl of annoyance, I had kicked off the covers and knelt down to begin collecting the bigger of the pieces. And then promptly sliced myself, of course.

I sighed as I grabbed a tissue, then wound it around my finger before carefully collecting a few more pieces and dumping them into the trash. The rest would have to wait for a dust pan - and I did not have time for that shit right now. Today was going to be tricky, and the last thing I needed to do was waste my morning sweeping up a bunch of fucking debris. With one more scathing glare at the wreckage, I grabbed my rug from behind me and threw it over the remaining mess.

With a satisfied nod, I rose swiftly to my feet, then turned to snatch my cell off of my dresser. It was time to put my plan for the day into motion.

After a moment of consideration, I took a deep breath, then quickly tapped in my message.

Morning, sunshine.

A few minutes later, my phone buzzed between my fingers, and I grinned as I opened the incoming message.

If you're trying to sweet talk your way into my pants, you're SOL. Tits aside, you're just not my type.

I snorted. Ah, Rose.

Maybe next time. Wanna do lunch?

This was crucial - if she was busy, I was screwed. I actually found myself holding my fucking breath as her next message came in.

Sure. You're paying.

I exhaled sharply as a grin spread across my face.

You know it. Come get me around noon?

Sounds good. Emmett's lazy ass will still be in bed, anyway.

Cya then.

I smiled wickedly as I replaced my cell then strode towards my closet. So far, so good. If anyone was willing to spill the goods, I was almost sure it would be Rose. Unlike Alice, I knew that Rose's loyalties laid only with herself - what doesn't benefit her is no good to her, anyway. She certainly wouldn't give a damn about fucking up Cullen's day - hell, she might actually even enjoy it. All I needed to do was push the odds in my favor, and I'd fucking have her. And Cullen too, by extension.

With that in mind, I bypassed my wardrobe for moment, reaching instead towards the very top shelf of my closet. I stretched onto my tiptoes as I searched the shelf, my fingers sweeping and prodding around the hidden space.

"Goddamnit," I mumbled as I craned my head upwards, "Where the hell is it?" But after a few more moments, my fingers finally curled around the small object, and I grinned to myself as I quickly pulled it down. The small, gold clutch gleamed in my hands, and I smiled as I swept my fingers over the polished leather, then across the turning lock. If there was one thing that could win Rose's heart, this Coach fold-over was sure to do it. No bitch could resist this shit - and it would be a small price to pay if it meant that I would finally be able to cut through Cullen's bullshit and own his fucking ass.

I resisted the urge to rub my hands together and laugh maniacally or some shit as I shoved the clutch into my purse, then grabbed a pair of skinny black jeans and a sweater out of my closet. The jeans were tight as hell, and they accentuated my ass quite nicely as I shimmied my way into them. The turtleneck sweater was a bold shade of red, but had a slit across the chest that would expose a fantastic cutout of my cleavage. The devil himself didn't have shit on me today, and I almost wished that I would run in to Cullen, just to be able to see his face once he caught sight of my fine ass. Of course, I knew it wouldn't have done any good, anyway - I would have probably just scratched his eyes out the moment I saw him. Fucking prick.

I spent the rest of the morning piling my hair on top of my head in a sophisticated twist, then applying just the right amount of makeup. I was going to have to bring my A-game with me today, and I was determined to look sexy while doing it. Once I was convinced that I was ready to make every male in Forks eat his fucking heart out, I slipped on my Choos, grabbed my purse, and marched purposefully out my door.

Once I reached the foot of the stairs, I noticed with delight that I had fifteen minutes to spare. I lingered for a moment, wondering whether or not to just wait outside. It wasn't raining yet - but of course, I knew that could change at any moment. Just when I had decided to fuck it and take my chances, I was startled by the sound of a throat being cleared harshly behind me.

"Bells?" a rough voice coughed from the kitchen, and I grimaced before turning around.

"Hi, Daddy!" I sang in my most convincing, sickly-sweet daughter voice. Goddamnit. What was he doing here?

"Hi, honey," Charlie hacked again, and I noticed him wincing at the light that was streaming through the front window. Nice. Hungover much?

A moment of awkward silence passed between us, and I shifted from one foot to the other as I took in his appearance. Not that there was much to it, though - he looked like hell.

"You look pretty, Bella," Charlie nodded, then dropped his eyes to his feet.

I paused before replying softly, "Thanks, Dad."

I exhaled slowly, frowning across the room. Issues aside, I knew he was trying. With a sigh, I glanced at the clock on the wall. Thirteen minutes and counting. Eh. . .I had time.

"Um. . .since we're both a little late out of bed this morning. . .would you like some eggs?" I asked.

Charlie's head whipped upward, and the grimace that followed was pathetic at best. That was all I needed.

"Sit down, Dad. I'll be back in a minute."

I blew past him without making eye contact, then set my purse down before hurrying towards the fridge. Eggs had always been a fucking glorious remedy for my hangovers, and I hoped they'd do the same for him. Plus, it was all I had time for, anyway.

I turned on the stove and swiftly cracked a few eggs, eying the microwave clock as I reached for a spatula. Ten minutes. I upped the heat and began furiously mixing the goo in the pan. This shit was gonna have to hurry - there was no way I was going to be late over a fucking pity breakfast. Three minutes later, I added a dash of salt, then a bit of milk. Two more minutes passed, and I hurriedly dumped the fluffy eggs onto a plate, then turned to head towards the door. But through the doorway, I caught sight of Charlie, holding his head in his hands as he slumped in his recliner, no doubt waiting for me to leave before cracking open another bottle. With a despondent sigh, I set the plate down, then opened the cabinet and reached up to the top shelf. Sure enough, my fingers curled instantly around the secret stash of Advil, and I shook two out onto his plate before filling a glass of water. It was exactly noon at this point, and I slung my purse over my shoulder and dashed towards the living room.

"Here, Dad. Eat up," I said as I set the plate unceremoniously on the table in front of him.

"Thanks Bells," he said, without looking at me, and I nodded uncomfortably.

The sound of Rose's horn blared from outside, promptly saving me from any further conversation.

"Gotta go," I shrugged. "I'll be home later."

He nodded, and I patted his shoulder once before running out the door.

***

"Tickle 'N Pink? Are you fucking kidding me, Rose?"

"If you don't like it, feel free to hoof it home," she shrugged as I gaped out the car window. "Actually, I'm sure that guy would be happy transport you - for a small fee, of course," she grinned as she gestured towards a middle aged man that was walking swiftly through the parking lot, sweating goddamn bullets.

I snickered. "If he keeps that shit up, I'll be swimming my way home. Anyway, it's not the what, it's the why," I clarified as I turned back to her, quirking an eyebrow as I gestured out the window to the strip club before us.

"Because," she shrugged nonchalantly as she opened her door, "Any motherfucker that claims Hooters has the best wings around is fucking deprived. Wait till you try this shit - their honey hot wings are from Jesus."

I smirked, highly doubting that Jesus had anything to do with the immediate vicinity, but stepped out of the vehicle anyway.

The building, like everything in this town, was fucking decrepit. The door was a sickly vomit-green, and the walls were yellowed and peeling, giving it the perfect seedy look - and I briefly wondered if they'd done that shit on purpose. Rose didn't hesitate as she strode immediately towards the door, and I followed, carefully inspecting the array of tobacco stains that littered the pavement. Of course, I was so caught up in the blackened stains that I realized way too fucking belatedly that a bouncer - formerly known as The Hulk - was waiting right at the door.

In all seriousness, the guy stationed out front was pretty fucking huge, and I shot a questioning glance at Rose as she led us right up to him. I mean, this was no Tiny Fucking Tim like at the Port Angeles bar. This guy looked like he slaughtered his own cows when craving a hamburger. Fuck Burger King, folks - we've got our own goddamn meat factory here.

But, to my utter fucking astonishment, the only mind he paid us was a quick nod, along with a "Hey, Rose."

"Hey yourself," she returned with a small smile, and without a second glance, she curled her hand around the door handle and pulled.

I barely refrained from rolling my eyes. Fucking Rose.

"Don't ever let anyone accuse you of being classy, Rose," I teased as the door groaned open.

"Fuck classy. I'm hungry," she scoffed, then disappeared inside. I caught the heavy door before it had a chance to close behind her, then followed her in, gagging slightly as the stench of stale smoke and cheap perfume washed over me. The place was, of course, dimly lit - the only light sources coming from the glow of the bar and the black lights that throbbed above the rectangular platform in the center of the room. ZZ Top blared from over head, and the entire space was plastered with unfair amounts of mirrors and pleather while one lone bitch was dancing her ass off in the center of the dingy fashion nightmare. I snorted as I caught sight of the only two patrons, glued to their chairs as they watched her. . .doing what? I wasn't really sure. Drop it like it's hot? Raise the fucking roof? Whatever it was, it was not fucking pretty.

"Just FYI," Rose cut in as I snorted at the saggy entertainment, "these bitches are fifty bucks a pop - not even worth the pole they slide on. The bar down the street averages about one-ten."

I couldn't help it - I burst out laughing. Rose snorted softly as she smirked sideways at me, then led the way to the bar in the back of the room. As soon as we were seated, Rose whistled sharply, attracting the attention of the sixty-something barmaid. The old broad pivoted immediately, a look of death in her eyes, and I struggled to reign in my chuckles as she eyed me warily. But at that moment, her narrowed eyes slid to Rose, and I watched as her scowl immediately curled into a wide smile.

"Ah, Rose," she half cooed, half croaked as she made her way towards us, "Will it be the usual for you?"

"Of course not, Val," Rose rolled her eyes, "After all, I do have company," she gestured towards me.

I quickly donned my best charming smile, and the old maid nodded in approval. "A large then. And two beers," she nodded again, then turned to fill two, iced mugs.

"I gotta say," I began as Granny set the mugs in front of us then disappeared towards the kitchen, "I wish I could say I'm surprised - but I'm really fucking not."

"The old bitch is Valerie, the owner - I've known her since I was in goddamn diapers," Rose grinned, and I smirked back before taking a healthy swig of my beer. Heineken. Nice.

"So how the fuck did that lead you to attend her titty bar on the regular?" I questioned between sips.

Rose took a moment to look at me like I was insane. "Uh, I told you. The fucking wings."

Wings from Jesus it was, then.

After a few more minutes plus a few more godawful lines from Def Leppard's Most Cliche, the old lady finally returned to set our platter of wings on the counter.

"Eat up," she directed us in an all-too-motherly tone for a goddamn strip club. I snorted. Only in fucking Forks. Still, wings were wings, and I didn't hesitate to snatch one from the plate and raise it to my lips.

"Oh, Jesus fuck, Rose," I moaned between bites. My earlier thoughts that Jesus had nothing to do with this shit was dead wrong - these wings were surely descended from Heaven.

"I know right?" she shrugged. We were entirely quiet for a few minutes while we both snarfed down our chicken and beer, AC/DC wailing in the background the entire time.

Once I'd finally had my fill, I turned to see Rose, leaning back in her chair as she sighed lazily.

It's showtime, I decided, and I took a deep breath as I reached for my glass.

"So," I started as I sipped casually at my beer, "I have a little problem."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Little?"

"Hah," I deadpanned. "Anyway. I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but Cullen has become a regular fucking tree-hopper. Seriously. Shit's crazy."

That caught her attention. She turned towards me immediately, then cocked an eyebrow before asking, "What the fuck do you mean?"

"I mean that his monkey ass has scaled up my tree twice now and shown up in my bedroom in the middle of the fucking night."

Like I knew it would, an evil grin immediately appeared on her face, and I could have sworn I saw her fingers twitch towards the phone in her pocket.

"Oh really?" she hedged.

"Yeah. Weird, right?" I prompted as I shrugged my shoulders coolly.

"Yeah, that's a bit douchey, even for him," she nodded as her hand continued to inch towards her phone, "But I don't know too many adolescent fucktards that wouldn't climb a tree just to get a piece of ass, you know?" she grinned.

Motherfucking bingo.

"Ass has nothing to do with it," I clarified, and watched with delight as her face fell, her cocky eyebrow furrowing in confusion. Once again, it was glaringly fucking obvious that she was entirely too interested in Cullen's love life. What the hell was with these bitches?

"You haven't fucked him?" Rose asked then, her tone bordering on annoyed. I had to bite back a wicked grin as I shook my head - I had her right where I wanted her.

"Nope. But here's the weird part - every time I try, he runs the fuck out on me. Literally fucking runs," I explained, then watched with satisfaction as she grimaced, her fingers immediately returning to the countertop. "He runs like a goddamn girl, by the way," I added for good measure, and Rose sniggered absently for a moment before glancing warily at me.

"I'm assuming that this is your little problem, then?" she pried, and I almost couldn't contain my amusement as I discreetly slid the Coach clutch from my purse and placed it on the counter between us.

"Yes and no," I shrugged as I watched her eye the sparkling clutch cautiously. I tapped it meaningfully once, twice, three times, then added, "I was just wondering. . ."

I waited as her gaze lingered on the clutch for another moment before her lips started to twitch at the corners, and I knew she understood.

"What, exactly," I emphasized, slowly, "do you think is up with Cullen?"

This was it. She stared at me for a moment, still trying not to smile while I stared her the fuck down. She knew exactly what I was talking about - and I sure as shit knew she had the answer. A moment of silent communication passed through us - each of us acknowledging what couldn't be said in this entire, fucked up situation. And then, with a deep breath, she looked down at the clutch, sighed, then shifted in her seat to plant her eyes on the bar wall in front of her.

"Can't tell ya," she shrugged. "I mean, who am I to explain the mysteries of teenage male psychosis? They're all a bunch of fucking morons, anyway."

"You've got to be shitting me," I nearly fucking growled as I shot her a scathing glare. She didn't respond as she kept staring at the wall in front of her, and I could tell she was trying pretty fucking hard not to smile.

Godfuckingdamnit. GodfuckingdamnitDamnitDAMNIT!

I barely resisted the urge to slam my fist on the counter as I, too, turned to stare at the wall. So that was it then. She wasn't going to tell me. Fuck.

I quickly snatched the clutch from the counter and shoved it angrily into my bag. What the fuck did a bitch need to do to catch a fucking break around here?

"Nice," I grumbled as I leaned back in my seat, crossing my arms in front of me. "Real fucking nice."

"I like you, Swan," Rose interrupted me suddenly, and I looked over to see her grinning widely at me. "So for what it's worth, listen up," she continued as she leaned conspiratorially towards me. I arched a distrustful eyebrow at her, but quickly decided to fuck it as I leaned slightly towards her.

"Guys like Cullen. . ." she began, then seemed to consider for a moment before adding, "well, they like to be in the driver's seat, know what I'm saying?"

The look I shot her pretty clearly said, Uh, no. Not a fucking clue.

"What I mean by that," she went on, ignoring my skepticism, "is that Cullen likes to be in control of this sort of shit. He's sort of a fucking pussy that way."

I couldn't help but chuckle quietly - fucking pussy, indeed.

"The point is, all you need to do is let him, you know, steer this shit for a bit. He'll come around," she finished with an annoyingly amused laugh before she turned to face the wall again.

What the fuck was that? I really didn't know. What I did know, however, was that Cullen wasn't steering my ass anywhere. I would own his ass, no matter how many people were standing in my way.

"We should get going, anyway," Rose said as she stood, gesturing meaningfully towards our tab. I slapped some bills on the counter and stood immediately, still pretty fucking pissed at the entire situation. Rose chuckled once more before leading the way out of the club.

The ride home was really fucking quiet as I stewed in my fury, Rose snickering occasionally from beside me. In all honesty, it seemed like something about our exchange had somehow managed to earn her approval of me, and her smile never faded as she sped towards my house. Obviously, she was one fucked up chick, but I figured I'd take what I could get from this seriously shitty day.

Once we reached my house, we exchanged brief goodbyes before I pushed open the door and hauled ass up the driveway. There was a bottle of Jack beneath my bed with my motherfucking name on it, and I stormed up the stairs quickly before slamming the door behind me. I had no idea if Charlie was home or not, but I sure as shit wasn't ready to find out.

Once I had pulled the Jack from beneath my bed, I slumped against my mattress as I took a deep pull. I had been so damn sure that Rose would spill, and yet here I was, just as fucking clueless as I'd ever been.

I spent the next several hours lounging on my bed as I slowly drained my bottle, contemplating whether or not I should just write Cullen off as a lost cause. But the more I thought about it, the more I knew that I just couldn't fucking do it. Bella Fucking Swan did not back down, ever. And last night had definitely been the last straw. No one fucked with me and lived to tell about it.

By nightfall, I was half-drunk and still wholly pissed, and I slammed the near-empty bottle on my nightstand before yanking my clothes off and dressing for bed. I knew that, after today, I was going to have to start kicking ass and taking names if I was ever going cut through the bullshit. And I knew exactly which motherfucker was at the top of my list - because his ass was going to be parked in my driveway, first thing in the fucking morning.

I crawled into bed early that night, eager to put the entire, fucked-up day behind me. Tomorrow would be a new day, and I knew exactly how to start it.

Face-to-face with Edward My-Ass-Is-Fucking-Grass Cullen.

***

By the time I saw the Volvo pull into my driveway the next morning, I was motherfucking ready.

I'd gotten up extra early to spend excessive amounts of time dressing myself to the nines. My hair was perfect, my sweater dress to die for, and I'd surpassed my Choos for a kickass pair of stilletos that clicked pointedly with my every step. I was not fucking around today.

I wasted no time in grabbing my purse before strutting straight out the door, slamming it harshly for extra emphasis. I could hear the entire house rattling from behind me, and I really fucking hoped Cullen could see that shit as I strode confidently towards him, my head held high. Throughout my entire morning, I had mentally tabulated an entire list of ways to handle his ass - most of which were pretty fucking sure to end in bloodshed. But as satisfying as that sounded, I had finally decided on the one tactic that I knew no man could handle.

Let the motherfucking games begin, I thought as I yanked open the passenger door.

To my extreme delight, Cullen looked pretty damn nervous as I sat down, then closed the door roughly behind me. His hands were clenched tightly around the steering wheel while he absently bounced one leg against his seat, and his eyes were peeled wide the fuck open as he stared cautiously at me. It was sort of fucking funny, the way his knuckles were white against the wheel as he eyed me like I was a sparking stick of dynamite, but I refused to so much as crack a smile as I put my fucking genius plan into action.

In one, smooth move, I twisted in my seat, then folded my arms across my chest as I leaned back against the car door, staring right the fuck at him.

"So uh . . . good morning. And shit." He was wary and questioning and looked kind of fucking afraid.

And to that I replied. . .with motherfucking silence.

"The fuck's wrong with you? Freak pharynx accident? Esophogeal paralysis?" he asked, and I could literally see him straining to remain unaffected by my blatant, piercing stare.

Nope. There was no way I was going to let him goad me into answering him. Instead, I continued to glare at him from across the console, remaining completely fucking frozen.

"Well then," he shrugged coolly, but I could see him shifting uncomfortably in his seat as I kept up my scathing stare. And therein lied the genius of my plan - no man could stand dead silence where an infuriated bitch was concerned. It was almost better than a straight up ass kicking - which I still hadn't ruled out completely, by the way - and I could see the pressure already starting to eat at him as he reversed out of the driveway and sped down the road, his free leg continuing to vibrate in his seat.

"What the fuck, Swan?" Edward grumbled at least ten minutes later, after I had refused to move so much as an inch. His nervousness was fucking empowering, and my only response was to narrow my eyes slightly, adding extra heat to my glare. Because goddamnit, this shit was going exactly to plan - there was nothing better than a loaded silence to provoke a teenage boy into copious amounts of verbal diarrhea. And that was exactly what I wanted, so I said nothing as I continued to stare straight at him, just fucking waiting for him to spew.

After another few moments, I could see his anxiety growing really fucking rapidly as he began shooting me furtive glances from the corner of his eye. In all honesty, he looked like he had a goddamn twitch or something, and it was a real testament to my self-control that I didn't start laughing right then and there. But of course, I did nothing, instead letting the dead air of the Volvo hang heavily around us.

By the time we reached the freeway, I could tell he was about to break. The steering wheel between his fingers was groaning in protest, and little beads of sweat were starting to form on his brow as he continued to watch me from his peripheral.

Any minute now, I began chanting to myself. Any minute now that bastard's gonna break.

And I was right - sort of. It was just a minute later that he finally reacted. But instead of opening his goddamn mouth and spilling like I had hoped, I watched as his hand suddenly shot outwards, his fingers aimed straight at the radio.

Oh hell the fuck no.

In a flash, I thrust my arm outwards, slapping his hand with excessive fucking force. The smack that cut through the air as my hand collided with his was fucking brutal, and I almost smiled as he yelped out loud, then snapped his hand away from me to cradle it to his chest.

"Well, now that was unnecessary," he grumbled petulantly, but I refused to so much as crack a smile at his pussy reaction. I mean, did that douchebag seriously think I was going to let him whistle away to some goddamn showtunes or something?

Silence is golden, fuckface. Eat it.

We sat in scalding stillness for the rest of the drive, and by the time we reached the school, I could tell how unsettled he was - which was fucking golden. But the fact that he hadn't broken down yet irked me, and when he cut the engine, I remained still as stone, absolutely refusing to get out. Edward didn't look at me for a moment, but instead slumped back against his seat, exhaling slowly. With the purr of the engine gone, the silence between us was almost eerie, but I refused to be swayed as I stayed rigid in my seat, glaring at him for all I was worth. Slowly, as if he didn't think I'd fucking notice, I watched him tilt his head to the side, then peek at me from the corner of his eye. My scowl grew instantly deeper, and he quickly snapped his head back, slamming it against the headrest. Still not ready to give up yet, I remained rooted in my spot, watching him through narrowed eyes. But just a few moments later, he fucking tried again - this time dipping his head forward before chancing a glance at me, as if the angle would fucking hide it or some shit.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Incensed, I jerked the handle and kicked the door open, then stomped towards the school, leaving his passenger door wide the hell open. I wasn't going to sit around all day and play his childish games - much more of that shit would have had me shoving my fist down his throat via his goddamn scrotum. Plus, I had all day to fuck with him - and hell if I wasn't looking forward to it.

Hope you brought your game face, asshole. This shit's about to get heavy.

***

"Attention all students, please report to the gym for your next class period, where The Forks High Debate Team will be hosting their last debate of the semester. Again, all students, please report to the gym for your next scheduled class period."

I groaned as the announcement cut through the overhead, static and all. A fucking debate? Seriously?

I supposed though, that it was kind of a lucky break - in some, sick way. After all, my next class would have been Biology, where I would have had to sit next to Cullen for an entire hour as I resisted the urge to rip his aggravatingly gorgeous hair straight out of his skull. I had spent the entirety of my morning concocting some pretty entertaining ways to rip my answers clean the fuck out of him - using my bare hands, of course. But doing that shit in the middle of Biology probably wouldn't have been the best course of action, and I shrugged as I made my way towards the gym.

Once I got there, the first thing I noticed was, of course, Jasper. He was propped against the wall at the very top of the bleachers, wearing one of those old rounded cowboy hats and looking like he just walked off the set of some fucking western. And, because he's fucking Jasper, there was a guitar in his lap, and I watched for a moment as he strummed lazily away. Fucking. Jasper.

Alice, like always, was right beside him, and as soon as she spotted me, began to wave her arms frantically in my direction. I rolled my eyes, but nodded my head in her direction as I began my ascent up the stairs.

And that was when I saw it.

Three rows down and four sections across from us was fucking Cullen - talking to none other than Mother. Fucking. Stanley.

Rage washed instantly through me, and I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists as I continued to stomp up the bleachers, shooting death glares at them the entire fucking way. Jasper was the first to notice, and immediately began plucking the beginning riff to Iron Man.

Veeeery fucking funny.

But even that wasn't enough to deter my attention from the way The Pubic Bitch was sliding her slimy fucking fingers down Cullen's arm. To his credit, he looked a little disgusted, but that didn't deter my fury as she took another step towards him, seriously invading his personal goddamn space.

"Somethin' got yer panties in a bunch, puddin'?" Jasper asked once I had reached the top of the stairs, his mouth curved into a sly grin as I continued to glare down at Cullen, utterly fucking enraged.

But I didn't get a chance to answer.

Because right at that moment, somebody tapped my motherfucking shoulder.

I whipped around immediately, but instantly regretted it as I found myself scowling down at none other than fucking Mike Newton.

Jesus Christ, I do not have the patience for this shit right now. . .

"Um hi, Bella," he began nervously, either really fucking stupid or totally oblivious to my seething glare.

"What the hell do you want, Mike?" I cut in instantly as I shot another furtive glance towards Cullen. Sure enough, Stanley was practically hanging on him now, and I felt bile rise in my throat as I watched her drag her fat fucking fingers down his chest.

"God, Bella," Mike answered, stunned. "I was just going to ask if you wanted to go to the Winter Formal with me?"

"Do I look like I would go to the dance with you, shithead?" I demanded, keeping one eye glued to Stanley's endangered ass. I knew I was being unfair, but goddamnit, now was not the time.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Newton's face turn red as he pursed his lips angrily.

"You know, Bella," he began with way too much petulance, and I jerked my head towards him as I arched one of my eyebrows, daring him to continue. And because he was two tiny liquor bottles short of a mini bar, he did.

"You're not as hot as you think you are. I see the way you're always eyeing Cullen like a piece of meat. I mean, you obviously can't even bed the biggest manwhore in school!"

A fucking homicidal rage swept through me, so strongly that I literally shuddered, and I knew in that moment that I just. . .couldn't fucking take any more.

Before I had time to even think straight, my hand shot outward, my fist colliding with his nose. The force of my swing combined with my vantage point at the top of the bleachers sent him stumbling backwards, and I watched with a satisfied sneer as he began tumbling ass over elbows down the steps.

Never one to miss an opportunity, I heard Jasper begin to pluck the unmistakable first notes of Eye of the Tiger as I took off after that fucking lame-haired douchebag, cracking my heels deliberately against every step.

Dun. . .dun dun dun. . .

"What was that, Newton?" I nearly screamed as I stormed down the stairs, following his tangle of limbs as he rolled down the remaining steps and landed on the gymnasium floor with a thud. The entire room had gone strangely quiet, but I couldn't seem to lower my voice as I continued to stomp towards him, death radiating from my eyes.

"I didn't quite hear you while your fucking face was stuck to my fist, Newton. Would you like to fucking repeat yourself, NEWTON?!" I thundered as I reached him, still sprawled flat on the floor. He looked up at me, his eyes wide, mouth hanging open, and I noticed with devilish delight that there was a smear of blood beneath his nose. He immediately scrambled to his feet, but remained way too fucking close to me as he gaped in astonishment.

"Say it again, Newton," I almost whispered, my voice deadly calm as I nudged his foot with the heel of my stilleto. "Do it."

"Jesus Christ, Bella!" he almost whimpered as he stared at me, dumbstruck, and for a moment, I thought I'd finally managed to get my point across.

But then, he tacked on the words that just sealed the fucking deal.

"You're such a bitch!"

I felt the maniacal grin spread across my face as I cocked my fist back and let loose, allowing my knuckles to slam against the side of his jaw with all my fucking force. Newton's head whipped instantly sideways, and as I watched, he fell back against the floor, out fucking cold. But at the exact moment that his head smacked against the ground, I heard teacher's whistles blaring as the entire gymnasium erupted into chaos, and I figured it was probably time for me to haul ass out of there.

I was extremely fucking pleased to hear several cat calls and wolf whistles following me as I stepped quickly towards the exit, then pushed through the doors and ran for the parking lot. The fact that I had no ride didn't exactly escape my notice, but the adrenaline pumping through my system just didn't give a shit as I kept moving forward. I'd hide in the fucking trees if I had to.

"You sure are movin' fast for such a pedestrian woman," a voice suddenly called from behind me in an over exaggerated Southern drawl, and I turned to see Jasper strolling lazily towards me, cowboy hat still hanging over his eyes, completely unaffected by the staff members that were surely looking for me.

"Jasper? What are you doing?" I asked, surprised and sort of breathless.

"Why, what sort of Southern gentleman would I be if I didn't rescue a destitute damsel every now and then?" he said with widened eyes. "And so concerning myself with your vehicular pursuits or rather, lack thereof, I took it upon myself to see to your well-bein'. Well, that and I thought you might faceplant on the concrete, and such reconstructive methods would not behoove such a pretty face," he chuckled. He paused as he considered for a moment, then nodded before tossing me his keys. "Go on and get in, pumpkin' - I'll be right there."

I caught the keys swiftly, wincing as I began to notice a throbbing pain in my hand. It looked like Newton's nose wasn't the only thing that was possibly fucking broken.

Jasper tipped his hat and grinned knowingly at me before ducking into the building to his left, only a little unsteady on his feet, and I wasted no time as I turned to dash towards the parking lot. I found his Riviera easily, of course, and silently thanked God for his drunk ass before jumping inside.

Once the door was shut behind me, I closed my eyes as I tried to relax against the seat. I was still way too tense - especially considering the fact that I had just emptied most of my rage on Newton's fucking face. But as soon as my eyes closed, my head began swimming with images of Stanley plastering herself all the fuck over Cullen, and I growled in aggravation before knocking my head repeatedly back against the headrest.

"Because I appreciate a pretty girl sprawled all over my vehicle just as much as the next man, it pains me to inform you that a concussion would most likely not be in your best interest at this juncture, darlin'," Jasper interrupted in that over-pronounced twang as he opened the driver's door, and I wondered why it sounded so fucking familiar. I could have sworn I heard that exact speech inflection before, but I knew I'd never heard it from Jasper. I gasped as something cold plopped suddenly into my lap. My eyes bolted open, and I looked down to see a bag of frozen tator tots settled against my thighs.

"Oh, fucking thank God," I mumbled as I shoved the icy bag onto my throbbing hand.

"I am a superb specimen, but don't deify me just yet," Jasper grinned, and I snorted before smiling in his direction.

"Thanks Jasper," I sighed.

"Why, Bella, you are most certainly welcome," he winked before throwing the car in reverse.

"Bella!" I heard my name suddenly echoing across the parking lot, and I whipped around to see none other than motherfucking Cullen, darting through the cars, heading straight for us.

"Oh Jesus Christ," I mumbled.

"Now, now," Jasper quipped, "I just waxed my vehicle, and I'd just as soon not be smited in it, if you please." I rolled my eyes before turning back to him.

"Go, Jasper, just go," I sighed, shooting a furtive glance at Edward, still dashing towards us. He really did run like a fucking girl.

"Well alright," he nodded before punching the gas, "but only because it's funnier this way." The big engine roared and a few seconds later, we were speeding towards the freeway. I sighed as I let my eyes close again, trying to shake off the image of Cullen's gay ass running towards us. What the fuck could that bastard possibly want now?

"Darlin' it has to be said," Jasper spoke as we merged onto the freeway, and I cracked one eye open to peer over at him. "You are one intimidating, tiny little woman."

I snickered as I let my eye slide closed again. "Thanks, Jas."

But right at that moment, I heard the last fucking sound I would have ever expected.

"Bella!" my name floated from outside again, along with the unmistakable screech of feedback. Oh my fucking God. . .

I jerked around immediately, and was stunned to see the fucking Volvo speeding behind us, a goddamn megaphone hanging out the driver's window.

"God damn it, Jasper! Pull the fuck over!" I heard Cullen's voice cut through the air, and my jaw dropped as I turned to Jasper in astonishment.

"What in the holy hell?!" I nearly shrieked, just completely fucking stunned. "A fucking megaphone?"

"Oh. Well. About that," Jasper smiled sheepishly, "I may have indirectly supplied our dear boy with such an instrument. . ."

"Oh, hell," I repeated as I threw my arms up in the air, then winced as my hand screamed in protest.

Thankfully, we reached our exit then, and Jasper pulled off the freeway and zoomed through the yellow light, leaving Cullen parked at the red. I sighed in relief as I watched the Volvo disappear in my side mirror, then settled back against my seat.

"Is he fucking insane, Jasper?" I asked seriously as I slid my eyes toward him again.

"Why, my darlin' Bella. Aren't we all?" was Jasper's amused reply, and I couldn't help but chuckle as I nodded slightly.

"True facts," I nodded.

A few minutes later, we finally reached Charlie's house, and I shot Jasper a weak smile before grabbing the door handle.

"Thanks Jas," I nodded. He smiled easily as he tipped his ridiculous cowboy hat in my direction, and I laughed softly before stepping out of the car.

Of course, I had only made it about three fucking steps up the driveway before the sound of screeching tires stopped me in my tracks.

God grant me the motherfucking serenity. . .because I sure as hell can't handle much more of this shit. . .

"Bella!" I heard Cullen calling, and turned unwillingly to see him scrambling out of his car. "Jesus, are you fucking deaf?"

I spun to face him immediately, glaring potently as I warned him, "Do not fuck with me right now, asshole. In case you didn't notice, I did just lay a motherfucker out with one hand. And I'm more than ready for a repeat performance."

"Christ, Swan," he muttered as he approached me, then stopped to whip his hand through his hair. "I knew you were pissy this morning, but fuck!"

"Strike one, fucker," I spat.

"Well, my darlin' Ms. Swan and unfortunate sir," we heard Jasper call from his car, and we both turned to quirk an eyebrow at him. "As riveting as this little rendezvous is sure to be, it is most assuredly a dance for two and if I thought I was the third wheel . . . why, I just don't know if I could bear it." He grinned at us from beneath his goofy fucking hat, and we watched as he pulled a cigarillo from his shirt pocket, stuck it between his lips, then reversed out of the driveway. Cullen and I both shook our heads in silence before turning back to each other.

"Look," Edward began as he eyed me carefully. "Would you just fucking talk? You know - without the assistance of your fists of fury?"

"Strike two, Cullen. It was one fist. Get your facts straight," I gloated as I crossed my arms over my chest, carefully hiding my . "And if it's a therapy session you want, you're at the wrong fucking house," I scoffed as I turned to leave. But because I just couldn't stop myself, I glanced over my shoulder to add, "I'm sure that Stanley would be happy to lend a fucking ear." I smirked as Cullen's jaw dropped, then proceeded towards my front door.

Until I heard the one sound that changed everything.

Cullen snorted. He fucking snorted.

That motherfucker. . .was laughing at me.

"Are you jealous, Swan?" he called to me, and I froze mid-step.

A lethal calm spread through my entire body as I listened to him chuckling behind me, and I knew I had officially fucking had it.

Ridiculously slowly, I turned to face him again, then began sauntering back to him, a fake smile plastered on my face.

"Jealous, Cullen? Me?" I replied with an innocent lilt as I felt my rage boiling to the surface. My entire body seemed to be on fire, anger just throbbing straight through my veins, but I kept my smile locked in place as I leaned towards him.

"Let me tell you something, Swan, if you'd use half your fucking devious brains to see what's right in front of your fucking infuriating beautiful face, you might - "

"No, Cullen, let me tell you something," I half-sang once my face was inches from his. Cullen's laughter immediately died in his throat, and I saw his eyes widen in realization.

But it was too late.

"Strike three," I whispered.

Using my good hand, I shot my arm outward and whipped my palm across his face, reveling in the satisfying SMACK that tore through the air. Cullen's face jerked instantly sideways, but he didn't move as his jaw tightened briefly before turning back to me.

His nostrils flared and his eyes flashed up to me, dark and angry and blazing with some emotion that I couldn't quite place. They were swimming with something, but I had no idea what and was too pissed to care.

He cursed a foul fucking string of expletives that almost made me blush and brought his fingers to the corner of his mouth to test for blood, then stared at them confusedly when they came away red and shiny. His eyes were wide when they came up to me and his voice was low and gritty, like I'd only heard when . . . well . . . before, and I couldn't tell if he was hurt or enraged. But as I continued to glare definitely at him, still steaming mad, he just nodded at me solemnly and said, "Well fuck. Guess I had it coming."

His pink tipped tongue slipped out and tested the corner of his mouth and he smirked grimly before staring at me once more, hard, and turning on his heel.

Then he strode away from me without looking back.

As I watched him go, I became suddenly aware of my own, ragged breathing and the way my blood was pounding in my ears. The sound was fucking deafening, and I couldn't even hear the Volvo as it took off down the street, fishtailing slightly around the corner. But as I stood there, feeling pretty fucking justified while I stared angrily at the spot where the stupid car had disappeared, a strange, sick feeling swept over my chest, and my breath hitched slightly as I spun on my heels. Before I knew it, I was in a full-on sprint, dashing madly towards my house. I didn't stop as I threw open the front door, then slammed it behind me before flying up the stairs and darting into my room.

As soon as I was safely hidden in my bedroom, I let myself sink to the floor, crumpling into a pathetic pile as I let my forehead rest against my knees. A dry sob threatened to claw up my throat, but I bit that shit back as I cursed the day Cullen was ever born.

My pride was wounded and my hand was throbbing painfully.

But for some reason, all I could concentrate on was the heavy, churning feeling in my chest as I replayed the dead look that had seeped into Cullen's eyes as the first drop of blood had dripped down his chin.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

We're taking bets (because we don't learn by example) - what do you think is coming next?