The characters and Twilight universe are Stephenie Meyer's. I'm just having fun...


Edward sat in the Volvo chewing on his pen, trying to think of a rhyme for cunt.

Grunt? Hunt? Aha! scent (well it was close enough). He surveyed his work:

Bella Oh Bella, you're so fine
With your beautiful cunt
And your breasts divine
You drive me mad with your lovely scent
And I have to make you mine all mine.

It certainly expressed his feelings, but he had hoped for something more romantic. For some reason, his attempts at verse kept veering sharply towards the physical. It was most annoying. He couldn't write that in a Valentine's Day card to Bella.

He sighed - back to the drawing board. Still, he would keep the poem - it would come in handy tonight when he was having some...personal time...with Bella in his bed. Well, not actually with Bella, that was the problem. With his fantasies of her, that is. He still hadn't worked up the nerve to ask her out, and was staking everything on the Valentine's Day card.

Edward had come to school early and was parked in a far corner of the parking lot, by the forest. Emmett had discovered a rejected draft in his waste basket and had made his life a misery at home this morning, prancing about chortling and reciting:

"Oh beautiful Bella with breasts so lush
Please let me stroke your furry bush!"

Not one of his best efforts perhaps, but you had to begin the creative process somewhere. Emmett was a philistine, he had no soul. Edward would have to buy a shredder to prevent any further...premature leakage.

He started over, frowning in concentration.

Oh my sweet girl with tresses dark
Lets take the Volvo and go park
Up a back road deep in the woods

He broke off, blocked. "Woods" was hard to rhyme as well. Goods? Moods? Perhaps trees would do?

Oh my sweet girl with tresses dark
Lets take the Volvo and go park
Up a back road deep in the trees
And there I'll gently part your knees
And come inside you as we fuck.

He moaned in despair and adjusted his crotch. No no no, this was impossible. He'd given himself a hard-on just writing poetry to her. She was simply so irresistible, and he was completely obsessed.

Edward reviewed his predicament. He considered himself an aesthete and well above the common herd. After all, he played the piano, appreciated art and opera and was very well read. He had never felt like this about anyone before, but the moment Bella arrived at the school he had been just as cunt-struck as all the other idiot males at Forks High.

Cunt-struck - there was a useful rhyme for fuck!
Damn it, he had to pull himself together and write something to win her heart. Perhaps refreshing his acquaintance with the Romantic Poets might help? Or Shakespeare - there was a man who knew how to write about love. And Edward had no doubt that he was in love. Head over heels, desperately, stupidly in love. It was hell.

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate."

See, Shakespeare could manage it without descending into the gutter, so why couldn't he? Once more unto the breach then. Unfortunate image that, he thrust it firmly aside.

Romance, he must focus on romance not smut. He would list a bunch of romantic phrases to inspire him.

Chocolate eyes
Auburn hair
Slender form careful
Soft white skin getting into the danger zone there as well
Lovely lips how he wanted to kiss them
Rounded hips...

He had to break off there, breathing hard at the thought of Bella's denim covered ass bouncing deliciously in front of him as they climbed the stairs at school yesterday. He had followed her as though on a leash all the way to her next class, ending up late for his own English lesson. So perhaps better to avoid mentioning her hips. Besides, girls were always supposed to be fretting about whether they looked big in jeans, so "rounded" might not be the best choice of words. Bella's ass was just perfect he thought happily, just the right size and shape to be cupped in his hands as he...No! He was writing a romantic poem, he must stick to the game plan.

He reviewed his strategy.

1. Write the perfect poem. Although right now, he'd settle for any poem without an "adult" rating.
2. Give Bella the poem in a Valentine's Day card. He had a tasteful card with him but the deadline had run out - it was Valentine's Day today. Things were desperate.
3. Be brave and put his name in the card. Scary, but he had to break the ice.
4. Impressed by his poetic talents and deeply romantic feelings for her, Bella would then be keen to chat with him, thus setting in train the happy fantasies which dominated his waking hours, not to mention his dreams. Best not to think about the dreams right now.

It was a sound plan. He just had to write the fucking poem. He gritted his teeth and tried again.

Oh Bella, mistress of my heart
Your chocolate eyes, your auburn hair
Are in my thoughts from dawn to dark almost a rhyme, it would have to do
I feel so much I do not dare
Approach you lest I fall apart
Or tell you quite how much I care. yes! he was on a roll now

He re-read the poem. Damn, that was good, he was a veritable Lord Byron. Now, if he could just manage one more verse without a smut intrusion. No, don't think about intrusions. Deep breaths. Onwards and upwards. Fuck, another unfortunate image. He screwed his eyes shut, repeating the "Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner" in his head. OK, back at it again. Jesus - where were these phrases coming from?

Desperately trying to think romantic thoughts, Edward gripped his pen.

I long to say just how I feel
To make my passion for you real
Was that too suggestive? Perhaps "feelings" was safer. But no, he already had "feel" in the first verse, and in the line above. It would have to be passion.
I long to hold you in my arms careful, careful, it was in danger of derailing again
To show you how your tender charms
Make my pulse race and my mouth dry a bit clinical? Living with Carlisle was rubbing off on him
So please be kind, don't pass me by.

Sighing with relief, he considered his work. It was excellent overall, although he was still a little worried about the second verse being a tiny bit risque. No, it was fine, this was the 21st Century after all. He wasn't completely happy with the last two lines though. Tongue protruding from the corner of his mouth, he scribbled alternatives down. After a few minutes he was satisfied.

Oh Bella, mistress of my heart
Your chocolate eyes, your auburn hair
Are in my thoughts from dawn to dark.
I feel so much I do not dare
Approach you lest I fall apart
Or tell you quite how much I care.

I long to say just how I feel
To make my passion for you real.
I long to hold you in my arms
To show you how your tender charms
Make my knees weak and my head spin
So please be kind, and be my friend.

Her "friend" was not at all what he wanted to be of course, but it was much less likely to scare her off. First they would be friends and have a meeting of minds, then a date, then... He sat in the Volvo, happily reprising several of his favourite fantasies.

A car broke his reverie, pulling to a sudden stop further down the parking lot. Jessica Stanley got out and looked at the Volvo curiously, then went inside. He noticed that there were several other vehicles in the lot now. Quick, she might be here soon, and he had to get in first before the entire male population of the school besieged her. He copied out the poem in the card, signing Edward Cullen with a flourish.

Then he sat and waited, terrified and excited.


Her familiar old truck rattled into the parking lot and pulled in several yards away. Now or never. Clutching the card in its cream envelope, he got out and tried to saunter casually across. Luckily her truck shielded them a little from curious eyes as the other students arrived and milled about. It was a cool grey day but not raining for a change.

She was clambering down from the cab now, missing her footing slightly as she reached the ground and lurched a little to one side.

Now Edward! He nipped forward and steadied her elbow.

"Oops - here, let me help."

"Oh, thanks...Edward. I'm such a klutz."

Yes! She knew his name. Now or never. "No no, not at, know what day it is today?"

"February Fourteenth? Oh, that's..."

"Valentine's Day, yes..." He could feel his face coloring. This was excruciating. Just fucking do it. ", I have a card for you." Blushing like a fool, he thrust it at her.

"Thank you Edward, that's very sweet of you."

They stared at each other for an awkward moment. He was completely tongue-tied.

Finally Bella spoke. " you let go of my elbow Edward? I really have to get to class. I'll see you later I guess."

Feeling like a complete fool, he dropped her arm and watched her walk away, slipping the card into her book bag. She thought he was sweet. Was that good or bad? At least she knew his name.

Edward couldn't face going to his first class, his thoughts and emotions in chaos. He sat in the Volvo glaring ahead at the trees, feeling sick. God, he had been a fool. She obviously thought he was an idiot and would no doubt be showing his poem to Jessica fucking Stanley et al. He imagined them giggling over the lunch table, snorting at his artistic efforts. He would be a laughing stock. He would have to change schools. Except that there were no other schools in Forks. He banged his forehead on the steering wheel.

After a long time hunched miserably in the Volvo trying to decide on the least messy and painful way to commit suicide, Edward dragged himself out of the car. It was better to face her, the uncertainty was killing him. Perhaps he could steal the card back from her bag if she hadn't opened it? He would see her in Biology later that afternoon, and meanwhile he would avoid everyone and keep his head down. Especially fucking Emmett and the rest of his siblings. He would never hear the end of this.


Edward managed to steer clear of Bella and his family, taking off in his car at lunchtime and driving aimlessly around the back roads, thinking dark thoughts about how cruel the world was and how little a sensitive and artistic person like himself was appreciated. It was so unfair.

Finally it was time for Biology. Quaking inside, Edward slipped into his seat, not daring to look at Bella. He felt her turn and gaze at him, but he just stared away as though riveted by a poster on the wall about the food pyramid. Thank God, it was to be a movie today so he could hide in the dark - and maybe retrieve his card?

But it was harder than he had thought to sit quite close to her in the darkened room, filled with an agony of fear and hope, no idea how to sort out this utter disaster. After twenty minutes he managed to screw up his courage and leaned down, reaching for her bag.

Her warm hand intercepted his and clasped it, and he gave a small yelp of shock. What? No, this was good, this was a good sign. He drew in a shaky breath. Surely she wouldn't take his hand if she'd been scoffing at him all day with her friends?

Oh God, what was she doing now? She was tickling his palm with her fingers, sliding her hand against his in the dark and caressing it. Oh fuck, that was actually quite arousing. Did she like the poem then? His heart leapt and his cock quivered in sympathy. And then she brought his hand up to her face in the dark and turning towards him slid his index finger into her mouth, sucking on it lasciviously. Sweet fucking Christ. His cock was painfully erect now, making him shift in the chair and adjust his clothing. Bella was kissing his palm now, swirling her tongue in it and sucking off his fingers and his thumb. Then she began kissing and nibbling gently up his wrist. Close to coming in his jeans, Edward bit back a moan and tried desperately to stay in control.

Oh thank God - she had let his hand fall now. Jesus, that had been close. But then he felt her hand on his groin, stroking and squeezing his swollen, exquisitely sensitive cock. He grabbed his jacket and lurched from the room, fleeing to his car.

What had just happened? Was he such a good poet that she wanted to ravish him the first chance she got? It was slightly frightening, actually - they seemed to have gotten to Step 4 in his strategy without passing Go or collecting $200. He was painfully hard and it was impossible to wait. Grabbing an old sweatshirt from the back seat he unzipped and beat off frantically, moaning helplessly as he exploded within seconds.

Panting, Edward leaned his forehead on the cool steering wheel. Oh fuck oh fuck. How could she do that to him with just her hand and her mouth? Did she realise why he'd left the room? She probably thought he was afraid of her. Which he was, a little. But he had to see her - he had to try to find out what was going on, and make sure it wasn't some cruel practical joke between her and that airhead Jessica.

He checked that his emergency decompression hadn't left any embarrassing traces and set his clothing to rights. School would be out soon. Edward got out and leaned against the Volvo, waiting.


End Notes:

What will happen in the next chapter? Why did Bella respond so strongly to the card? Stay tuned... (and let me know if you like it)