So this is my first fanfic ever in English so I would love your comments on how I did.

Bella has a little trouble knowing where the line between love and hate is. Edward isn't quite so clueless, but the signature self-loathing is there.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. This story I do own.


Of Love and Hate

BPOV

Cullen.

God, I hated him. Every time I saw him my heart would start thudding faster than normally, my palms would become slick with sweat and my hands would ball up to fists. And if he flashed that cocky, crooked grin of his my mind would just go blank.

At first I was very confused with all this. It was unlike anything I had ever felt in my entire life. But, after thinking about it thoroughly, I came up with an answer. The unknown feeling had to be hate, rage or at least utter dislike. It had been strange to feel something this powerful – even if it was hate – towards someone I didn't even know that well. Yes, I have been mad, irritated and frustrated before, but this was something entirely new… He had to be the single most infuriating creature ever to walk this earth. His dazzling looks didn't actually work for his advantage. Nor did his indifference.

I still couldn't remember the first time I met him without a wave of frustration…

~*~

It was my first day at a new job and saying I was nervous would be an understatement. I was lucky I had good references; I would get straight to fieldwork.

I was a journalist and this new job of mine was at the Midday Magazine, which was a small but popular, especially among the young people of the city. They had a rather interesting way to assign the journalist-photographer pairs. They just paired everyone off with random people and kept changing them until everyone had found their match. That sounded like it could be effective with dating also and might just be why the magazine was doing so good.

So, nervous, I made my way to the notice board that had the information about the pairings. I ran my finger across the paper to find my name. There! Now let's see who I have a 'date' with… Edward Cullen. I had no idea who it was but they had an answer for this too; they had also put up a place to meet for each 'couple'. Ours was at the big cactus next to the elevators.

I should have seen it coming. I mean, a cactus, really? That can't be a good sign.

Oblivious, I walked eagerly to meet him, happy about the fact that the topic was a new music-/bookstore. The two things I knew most of and was passionate about (besides writing).

I saw – by the cactus – a guy standing with his back to me. His hair was a tousled, copper-coloured mess and he wore nice dark jeans and a black T-shirt that fit his long and lean body perfectly. When he turned, what I had even thought with his back turned was confirmed; he was hot. His features were strong and clean, his nose perfectly straight and his lips just full enough. His emerald eyes seemed to pierce straight to my soul when our eyes locked.

I decided I wouldn't let the way he looked distract me, I was here to work. I walked straight to him as I extended an arm to shake his hand, smiling politely. His eyes widened a little when he realized I was coming to him and then narrowed to slits as he glared at me in sudden anger. I felt my smile falter as I took in his protective stance and the way he looked at my hand, a suspicious look in his angry eyes. They were almost black now, I noticed.

When he finally extended his hand slowly, hesitating, I was starting to feel annoyed. Was there any reason why he would look at me like that? We didn't even know each other. When his hand reached mine a shock of electricity shot trough us and he jerked his hand back quickly.

I almost laughed out loud nervously, but refrained. "I'm Isabella Swan."

"Edward Cullen," he grunted without looking at me.

So, now he wasn't even looking at me? I felt a bang of something that was pretty close to irritation but not quite… I let it go and concentrated on the silence that was starting to build between us.

"So, uh, should we get going?" I tried. He responded with something that resembled both a nod and a shrug.

As we made our way to the elevators I felt a strange emotion flaring over the edges of my mind.

And so it had begun…

~*~

The worst thing was that he was a really sweet and nice guy – as long as it wasn't me who he was talking to. After that first time we worked together I was ready to leave the job just because of him. I was so confused about the way he treated me I hardly said a word to him that day. And then our boss decided that we worked well together and made us regular.

And now, here I was, two months later and as confused as ever. And angry. Every day at work he'd be cold and distant, only talking to me when he had to. Then I'd just try not to explode with frustration and when I got home I would type an article out angrily in one sitting. Apparently they were good, since I had already gotten a raise and they even offered me a longer contract. I said I had to think about it. You can all guess why, can't you?

And I just can't wait for tomorrow; we have some concert to go to in the evening. At least that's the only time I have to see him for the day.

EPOV

Isabella Swan.

God, I loved her. And you don't have to tell me: you think I'm pathetic. Hell, I think I'm pathetic. Well, I was in love with a woman that hated me. What's not to like?

At first I thought she was just beautiful – and she is, but not just beautiful. She was intelligent, sweet, caring, selfless, perfectly clumsy, funny, shy and just exquisite. But she hated me. And who wouldn't after the way I treated her the first time we met? At the moment I thought I had a good reason. I'm not so sure anymore.

I had this thing about keeping my personal life and work apart. And when I saw I would be working with her I thought that she was some demon straight from my personal hell, here to destroy me. Now I know she is no demon; she is an angel. It was like she is singing to me, her beautiful eyes, hair and oh, those lips… Now I would throw all my stupid rules out the window if I ever stood a chance with her. But I don't.

So, I don't talk to her because I fear that I'd fall even more in love with her if I did.

So, I don't look her in the eyes because it would hurt even more if I saw the hate there.

So, every day my heart breaks a little more.

But I can't hate her for it.

BPOV

I had found the perfect spot.

It was just outside the crowd, but still close enough to hear the music, to taste the excitement in the air. There was an old oak, it's lower branches spread out close to the ground. I sat on one that looked like it was strong enough not to snap and low enough – only two or three feet off the ground.

I watched as Ed – No, don't think about his name! You'll only be pissed.he sat down, a careful distance away from me. Like every time I looked at him, my heart started beating faster and the feeling – hate, irritation, whatever – stirred behind the surface. The real reason I didn't like to think about his name was that every time I did there was this warm feeling that appeared to the pit of my stomach. It was so different from any other feelings I had for him, from any feelings of hate that it only made me very confused.

So I didn't think about his name often, I didn't think about him often. At least I tried not to.

It was just getting dark in the park – twilight – and the cool breeze made me shiver. Oh, why didn't I take my jacket? I was beating myself up when I noticed him sift and the next thing I knew he was handing me his light brown leather jacket. I'd be willing to bet that my eyes were the size of coffee plates as I just stared at him for a moment. He didn't look me in the eye – he never did – his gaze was somewhere near my left ear. With stiff movements I took the jacket and put it on, still dumbstruck.

This is new. It actually wasn't, when I thought of it. He had always been a gentleman, opening doors for me and such. I had just usually been a little preoccupied at the moment.

I glanced at him curiously. He now had the camera up on his face as well as a look of deep concentration as he snapped pictures of the stage, the band, the crowd. The corners of my lips started involuntarily curling upwards at the sight and this scared the crap out of me. I was supposed to hate this guy! I quickly turned my head away, closed my eyes and let the music relax me. His jacket smelled really good, like fresh mint. Now I let the smile come.

After a long moment I heard his camera click again and opened my eyes. He was looking at me over his camera, which was pointed at me.

All I could think was: Huh. This is definitely new.

Then he actually blushed. And it was the cutest blush; his ears looked like they were on flames.

"Sorry," he murmured looking away.

"It's okay." I didn't mind. I was just a little – okay, a lot – surprised.

"But you hate me." It wasn't a question. And I wasn't going to deny it. Somehow it made me sad, like I wanted to deny it.

"Well, you hate me too," I said as if it would justify my feelings. And I felt even sadder.

It was him now who looked absolutely bewildered. His eyes met mine and widened even further when he saw how certain I was about it. I don't know how long we just stared at each other, me sad and sure, he bewildered and… There was something I couldn't quite determine in his eyes.

"I don't hate you," he finally said quietly, looking away again. My brow furrowed. What could he possibly mean? Was he making fun of me?

This is what I mean. Just by saying he didn't hate me he had already made me furious. I was kind of glad he hadn't said he hated me, I don't know if I would have been in control of my actions. I was barely in control now, my fists clenching and unclenching slowly to keep from attacking him.

I hopped down from the branch and started walking away. I knew I was being childish and stupid but I was too angry to pay this too much attention.

"Bella…" I couldn't ignore the fact that shivers ran down my spine when I heard my name on his lips. Good shivers? And it was the first time he had called me by my nickname, if you could call it that. Everybody called me Bella, only he always said either Isabella or Miss Swan. My heart was going double the normal speed – I don't know if it was the anger or the shock of being called Bella by him.

You. Hate. Him. Now, keep walking .My pace had slowed when he called and my feet were now reluctant.

"Bella, please don't go." The panic in his voice made me stop and turn around. Maybe it would best to talk. Or maybe not.

I eyed him carefully. "What?"

"Please don't walk away from me," he pleaded. At least it sounded like pleading to me. His hand rose from his side as if to touch me, even though there was a distance of at least ten feet between us. He seemed to realize this and dropped his hand.

I closed my eyes, shaking my head. "Why? You couldn't possibly mean what you said and I definitely meant what I said. Or you said, whatever. If you don't mind, I would like to – gah?" My sentence ended short with a gasp – I had opened my eyes and he was so close, our chests almost touching.

There was ancient sadness in his eyes as they gazed down into mine. "Did you? Mean it."

I bit my lip and closed my eyes again, trying to clear my head. The same scent that was on his jacket now swirled around me, stronger than before. And then there was a weird sensation on my lips, different from my teeth that always gnawed on them. My eyes flashed open and I almost passed out from shock.

It was just ridiculous. He was kissing me – for Pete's sakes – and all I could think of was: Wow, he has the softest lips… I should be angry at him for crying out loud! And I wanted to be angry at him; I even thought about slapping him for a moment. But then he pulled back.

No! No, no, no, no!

So my hands reached out and grabbed his hair, crashing my lips to his. His hands slid behind me, pulling me close as he responded eagerly. I have three words for you: Freaking. Perfect. If I had known kissing him would be like this, there's no way I would have waited this long to do it.

Eventually we both needed air he pulled back just enough to press his forehead to mine. We were both trying to steady our ragged breathing. I opened my eyes to find his open too, looking at me like he couldn't believe what just happened. I felt exactly the same way.

"Bella…" He hesitated, brushing a strand of my hair from my face. "I – I love you."

Huh.

"What does it feel like?" I had to know.

"What?"

"Love."

He concentrated for a moment; my question had caught him off guard. "It feels like… Well, every time I think about you I get butterflies in my stomach. When I see you my heart starts going overtime and my palms sweat," he said smiling at my bewildered expression gently. "And when you smile I feel like it lights up the whole world."

Now it all made sense. I smiled at him through my tears. "Then I would have to say that I love you too."

His head jerked back in surprise, his eyes the size of saucers. Then the widest grin I had ever seen spread to his face and he lifted me up from the ground, twirling me around in the air. I giggled euphorically when he set me to the ground, kissing me all over my face. When he hit my lips it wasn't much of a kiss; we both just smiled against each others mouths.

"I love you so much."

"Love you too."

And finally I could let him through my mental barrier.

Edward.


Thanks a lot for reading!

Please review, I still beg for your opinion on my English-skills. And on the story too, of course.

~neniainas