A/N: Twilight and all affiliated characters belong to S. Meyers. I do not own a thing.
AH, OOC, B+E
Rated M for Sex, drugs, mature themes.
I woke up at six-thirty in the morning, fricking early as hell, to the smell of bacon and eggs downstairs in the kitchen. Slowly I pulled the covers off and walked over to the window and opened the blinds. To no surprise, it was overcast and drizzling outside. Great.
I rubbed my eyes, yawned, and shuffled along the soft carpeting making my way to the bathroom down the hall.
I grabbed the handle to open the door, and of course, it was locked. Frickin' Rosalie.
"Rose" I called out, banging the door with my fist, "Hurry the hell up!"
"Bella, don't even fucking start with me!" Rose hollered back, swinging open the door and flashing me a wicked glare. "If this is ever going to fucking work, which I don't anticipate it will, you are going to have to learn some ground rules."
I couldn't hold my giggles back and burst out into laughter in her face. Rose was wearing one of those bright blue gunky looking facemasks, and had her hair was messily pulled up in a hairpin, slightly resembling a big golden rat's nest. It was comical to see Rosalie, the beauty queen, with her morning face on.
Rosalie was not amused with my laughter, and shook her head in annoyance. "Look, Bella. Just give me until seven" she said, slamming the door in my face.
I shuffled down the long curved staircase, running my hand down the smooth cherry banister to steady my disorientation, and entered the kitchen, pulled out a stool and sat down with my head in my hands on the marble island.
"Not a morning girl, are you?" Esme observed, chuckling to herself as she took a sip of her coffee.
"Not usually," I groggily replied.
"Are you going to be okay today at school, hun?" she asked, eyeing my carefully.
"Yah Esme, I'll be fine."
I hated all the unnecessary attention I was receiving since I moved to Forks. Usually I was a "suffer in silence" type of person, but Esme was convinced that wasn't a healthy coping mechanism, in fact she didn't think that was coping at all.
My mom, Renee died of pancreatic cancer this past spring. My mom was my only real family and losing her messed up right up. Despite Esme's most persistent attempts of getting me into therapy, I wouldn't have any of that hocus pocus voodoo shit. Maybe it works for some kids, but it's not my grieving method of choice. I learned at a young age that you can't rely on anyone for anything, which is why I was happier dealing with my issues using my special blend of pot and my favourite pipe than talking to some shrink that didn't know crap about my life. Writing was my outlet and I had some pretty fucking amazing poetry going after my mom's death; grief brings out the strongest of emotions and I framed some of the darker poems to remind me of why I was here in Forks.
My dad died when I was a little girl so I had no family back in Phoenix which is why I had to come to this deadbeat town and live with my only living family – my aunt Esme and her daughter Rosalie.
Esme was cool; I had gotten to know her a little bit by living with her this summer. Esme made her best efforts to make me feel at home in Forks, even though I was pretty damn sure I would never feel at home ever again for the rest of my life.
Rosalie was decent; as far as cousins go she was pretty chill, despite being the polar opposite of me.
Rosalie Hale was Forks High's beauty queen; standing 5'8"with a figure that any supermodel would envy, long cascading wavy blonde locks and the most intense blue eyes that were to die for, she was every guy's fantasy, and every girl's worst enemy. She wasn't exactly modest about this either.
I, on the other hand, was totally average. I had brown hair, brown eyes, and pale skin. There was absolutely nothing outstanding about me. Mind you, this is not to say I didn't get guy's attention, because believe me; I had experience in that field. I had a foul mouth and wicked wit, and I suppose there was something seductive about being such an independent woman. I guess the short skirts and combat boots didn't help my chances either.
However this year wasn't about boys at all. This year was about maintaining my perfect 4.0 so I could get into Harvard, then go to law school, and then become the most successful feminist lawyer that every man feared. Thus, I was stashing away the short skirts and combat boots this year.
It wasn't about friends, either. I had acquired some friends over the summer through Rose; her best friend Alice and I got along pretty good and their friend Jasper was just about the coolest kid I ever met; man, if anyone ever marched to their own drum and didn't give a damn about it, it was Jazz. Only he could pull off the style he had.
Plus the neighbour boy Jake was a good time. So, although I preferred being anti-social, Rose was Miss Popularity in Forks and thus her popularity was passed onto me by virtue of being her blood relative. What I wouldn't give to live a day in her shoes.
Rosalie had her nearly perfect GPA, and spent most of her free time fucking her football player boyfriend, Emmett McCarty, the Senator's son. Her tactic was simple: sleep her way to the top. By dating the Senator's son, who in turn would easily cruise through undergrad and law school granted he chose that path (or perhaps he would take one of the many football scholarships that were being handed to him on a silver platter) she already had her life set out for her. Not like Rose needed to be worried about anything like money or prestige; Esme was the single most successful paediatrician in the entire state, which made it difficult for her to find her match as well. I could totally relate to poor Esme. She was too intelligent by society's standards, and in turn, guys were intimidated by her profuse knowledge of all things medical and thus every single date she had ended up dumping her because she was too smart. Even the doctors she dated felt she was a little too smart. I found this ridiculous because Esme was one of the most stunning and kind women I had ever met. She was entirely modest about everything from her looks to her intellect, which is why I found it difficult to believe that she and Rosalie, the vainest person to walk the earth, were related.
"BELLAAAAAAAAA" Rose yelled from upstairs, breaking my concentration.
"Comingggg" I replied, running upstairs to see what the emergency was about.
I reached the bathroom huffing and puffing.
"God Bella, you need to cut the smoking," Rose said as she meticulously applied her mascara.
"Yah, whatever, what's the emergency?" Smoking was the only thing that helped me get from day to day.
"Well like I said, you get the bathroom from seven until seven-thirty. We leave her at eight, no later. Class starts at eight fifteen."
Wow, what a spaz. Rosalie needed to take things down a notch.
"So who gets the bathroom between seven-thirty and eight?" I said comically, trying to lighten her mood a bit.
She looked at me puzzled. "Well, I do of course. I never said you couldn't use the downstairs bathroom for your" she paused, searching for the right word, "primping or whatever you do in the morning."
She smacked her glossy lips and sashayed down the hall in her fuzzy pink Victoria' Secret robe and into her bedroom. Drama queen.
I took one look at myself in the fog-covered bathroom mirror. Ugh. There was absolutely nothing appealing about me this morning. My hair was flat, my complexion was grey from the lack of sleep, and I was starting to develop a serious smoker's hack. I nearly keeled over in a coughing fit during my self-assessment in the mirror and settled on not doing the whole "showering" thing today.
I hollered to Rose to let her know that she could use the bathroom and trudged back to my bedroom.
I searched my closet for something cute to wear on my first day at the new school and found nothing.
Screw that, as if I would even be noticed beside Rosalie anyway.
I settled on a black hoodie and jeans, and my favourite red Converse Chuck Taylor's.
I ran down the stairs and Rose was standing by the front door, impatiently tapping her foot and glaring at me. "That" she pointed at my outfit with wide eyes, "Is what you are wearing to debut yourself as Rosalie Hale's cousin?"
I just shrugged her unnecessary comment off, incredibly tempted to let her know that her tiny white v-neck cleavage-baring sweater and thigh high denim skirt wasn't exactly appropriate for school unless you were a stripper. And that was before she put on her sparkly baby blue four-inch stiletto heels.
Nonetheless I lost; the threat of losing her popularity because her cousin dressed like a "dyke" was too much to risk. So I obligingly followed her up those damn friggin stairs, huffing and puffing, to her bedroom where she slutted up by outfit.
I left her room wearing a pair of purposely ripped True Religion jeans (why anyone would buy a pair of $300 jeans that were intentionally tore to bits, I will never know), a plain white tank top, a trucker hat, and battled and won the fight to wear my Chuck Taylor's.
"Now," she said, grabbing her keys off the counter, "Starbucks run before class?"
We pulled up to the school in Rosalie's ostentatious red BMW M3 convertible, lattes in hand, and I had a bittersweet taste of what popularity was like for a brief second but was quickly overshadowed by Rosalie.
Guys were practically dropping to their knees, worshipping the very ground she walked on. She brushed them aside, paying them no attention whatsoever, and waltzed into the school toward our lockers. I wasn't so comfortable with everyone staring at us, and suddenly wished that my jeans didn't have rips right below my butt cheeks, exposing small slits of thigh to anyone who was behind me.
Emmett was waiting by her locker looking all happy; smiling wide and revealing his adorable dimples. Emmett was a giant and I wouldn't ever want to get on his bad side; he stood an intimidating six foot four and weighed about two hundred and twenty pounds of pure muscle, and had jet black short hair. I found Emmett to be sexy as hell, much like every other girl in Forks. Once you got to know him, he was like a big, giant teddy bear.
"So, big day today Bella, being your first day at a new school and all. Don't let anyone intimidate you Bella. Me, Cullen and Whitlock might as well own the place."
I gave him an appreciative smile. It was nice to have guys like Emmett and Jasper around.
I stuffed my backpack in my locker, grabbed the white Macbook that Esme so kindly purchased for me, and stalked off to biology, late and alone and feeling vulnerable.
I heard guys commenting on me as I walked to my homeroom and suddenly regretted not just sticking with my original outfit. But when I walked into the classroom, I realized that girls didn't exactly 'dress down' for class here at Forks High. Most of them had overly processed hair and were dressed to the nines, presumably because it was the first day back from the summer holidays. Two girls in particular stood out; they were wearing skimpy short skirts, high heels, and tube tops; something that I would only wear to a bar, if at all. They were both smacking their gum against their shiny pink heavily glossed lips and frantically texting into their Blackberry's. I guessed they were texting to each other because as soon as they noticed me they both grabbed their phones and texted back and forth, laughing at the messages. Pathetic.
I scanned the classroom for an empty seat and found one at the very back left corner of the classroom.
I set up my computer and was instantly appreciative that Esme insisted on me using "modern technology" rather than a pen and paper. Apparently nobody had heard of pens and paper at this school, and everyone had a brand new shiny laptop.
The teacher, Mr Molina cleared his throat in an attempt to get the class's attention and failed miserably. He rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed with everyone's attitude, and spoke up.
"Guys, settle the heck down. Turn to page four in your text and read the first chapter and answer questions one through twelve on page thirty." Nobody seemed to notice he spoke up except for me so he walked over and began flicking the lights.
Just when he was in the middle of his disciplinary action of calling out specific names to quiet them down ("Mallory, Stanley, Yorkie, be quiet!") the classroom door opened and the most gorgeous man I ever laid eyes on walked into the room. He was wearing jeans and a blue Lacoste button down shirt and had an expensive looking backpack swung around his left shoulder. He had smouldering topaz eyes and bronze hair that was dishevelled, looking like he just had a romp in the sack. His body was perfectly toned and I could see his immaculately sculpted pecs through his shirt. Just as my mouth was about to drop open, he ran his fingers through his messy hair, which was about the hottest thing he could have done right then.
"Ah, Mr Cullen," Mr Molina called out, clearly very irritated with this student's tardiness. "Thank you for gracing us with your presence. Now take a seat beside Ms Swan."
I nearly choked. This... this Adonis was going to sit next to me, and I was expected to pay attention how? I raised my eyebrows as he approached my table.
"Oh and Cullen? Next time you decide to sleep in, how about you do us a favour and not show up at all," Mr Molina said, looking rather satisfied with his defeat.
And just when I'd thought the teacher finally put this kid in his place, this alleged Cullen freezes in his spot and turns around, looking the teacher in the eyes.
"Yah Molina? You want to take that up with my father?" He retorted, sizing the teacher up with his eyes, more than thrilled with a slight challenge by an authority figure.
The teacher just dropped his jaw and slowly hung his head, accepting his loss.
"That's what I thought" Cullen smirked.
I nearly gasped. Never had I seen a teacher so humiliated. Mr Molina apologized and excused himself from the classroom for a minute, likely to ice his wounds and count his losses with some sort of cheap whiskey.
So that is how this place operates, I thought to myself, storing it in the back of my head.
I looked down as the Greek god approached me, avoiding eye contact and attempting to look busy with my work.
He sat down, unpacked his shiny new Macbook Pro, and looked over at me, presumably assessing me for a long couple of minutes.
I swear to god I read the same sentence over twelve times. Scientists have not been able to cause amino acids dissolved in water to join together to form proteins. The energy-requiring chemical reactions that join amino acids are reversible and do not occur spontaneously in water.
I couldn't even think.
"Does sweetheart have a name?" he said, holding his hand out to shake mine.
"Um, me?" I muttered, not sure if he was actually real, let alone talking to me.
"Yes you, silly." He laughed quietly to himself, clearly amused with his own thoughts.
I looked at him with wide eyes, trying not to look like my heart was about to burst out of my chest and start pumping on the lab table in front of us.
"Um, yes, I'm Bella. Bella Swan." I searched his face for a sign of recognition and suddenly his eyes shifted up and down my body, critically sizing me up.
"Oh so you are the Swan, eh?" he said, still checking me out. "Not bad, not bad. I'm Edward Cullen."
I took his hand and shook it, and I felt a surge of electricity run through my body. This boy was going to be the death of me.
I quickly looked back down at my textbook and tried to read, which was proving to be an impossible feat with this sex bomb sitting beside.
Scientists have not been able to cause amino acids dissolved in water to join together to form protein. Fuck, not this sentence again.
He started up his laptop and the desktop lit up featuring a nearly naked Megan Fox as his background; nearly naked meaning nothing but a tiny piece of sheer fabric was covering her vajay, and two hands clutching on to her perfect round boobs barely left anything to the imagination.
As if he needed to fantasize about her. He could probably win her over with a flash of that smug grin of his.
He noticed me staring and called me out on it.
"Haha Megan Fox fan eh?" he said smugly, watching as my face turned a humiliating shade of scarlet. "She's such a babe. I met her when I was in LA for a bit this summer. The Fox doesn't disappoint" he smirked.
What. The. Fuck. I looked at him with a puzzled face, trying to decipher whether he was joking or not. As a response he just chuckled, and went on to browse the internet for cars or some crap like that, with MSN messages popping up every four seconds from various girls in the classroom.
The rest of class was uneventful and dull; Mr Molina returned looking serene and flipped through a National Geographic at the front of the room. I finished the answers in the textbook quickly and handed them in to him.
Mr Molina furrowed his brow at my paper, confused as to how I could be finished so early, and closely examined my answers. When he was content with my answers and could find no flaws, he dismissed me early.
As I was walking down the halls, mentally kicking myself in the head for giving more than two seconds of thought to that... that pig... that man whore, I heard someone call my name from behind. He had the most incredible voice in the world, and I didn't have to look to see whose it was.
I turned around slowly and low and behold, he was walking toward me, looking cocky as hell.
"Hey Swan," he hollered, and I halted until he caught up with me, my arms crossed across my chest, doing the impatient Rosalie foot tap.
"Yes?" I asked sceptically, wondering what the hell he could want with me.
"I noticed you handed in your paper pretty early, and Molina looked almost impressed. Were you in some kinda AP program back in wherever you came from?"
I looked at him smugly. He was clearly threatened by my intelligence and that is right where I wanted him. This kid couldn't have an ounce of intelligence in his thick head.
"Well yes, I was top of my AP class in Phoenix," I said, correcting his rude referral to my hometown, "And I expect to be top of the class here in this place you call Forks as well." I turned on my heels and walked away, leaving him dumbfounded, or at least I hoped I did.
"Hey Swan!" he hollered again. Yah, he's real dumbfounded, Swan.
I rolled my eyes and turned around, being sure to look utterly unaffected by him. He was so threatened.
"So if you're as smart as you say you are, you must be fighting for that scholarship eh?"
Now that tweaked my interest. "What scholarship?" I asked casually, pretending I didn't need the money or anything. Judging by the student parking lot, everyone here was pretty damn rich.
"The Roosevelt Scholarship of Distinction," he said, matter-of-factly. When he realized I had no clue what he was talking about, he continued, "Twenty-five grand to the top student of the graduating class." I nearly choked at that sum. I couldn't fathom winning that much money. "And this isn't some Miss Popularity valedictorian shit. This is the top student, strictly based on your GPA. Sure, they have other awards and shit based on your sucking up skills, but those are reserved for Mike Newton type people. And Rosalie Hale is up for one of the scholarships for the most sucking and blowing. The Roosevelt is unbiased, which is why I am the most likely to win right now. As you can imagine, I'm not exactly popular with a lot of the staff at this school" he said, and that sexy smug grin returned.
I paused for a minute. This scholarship would seal my chances of getting in to Harvard. I needed this. Renee wasn't exactly responsible with her money, which is why I barely had any funds to pay for one semester of college, let alone Harvard of all places.
"I hadn't considered it," I said casually, shrugging it off. Let him think that he's got nothing on you, then kick his ass, leaving him blown away in the dust.
I sat on my prized Italian leather couch in front of the forty-two inch LCD TV in my room, completely bored with the selection of channels. As I mindlessly flipped through the channels, I went over some of the highlights of the first day back at Forks High.
Well today was a hell of a lot more interesting than I would've guessed.
Usually when there's new meat in the school, they're all over me, eye-fucking the shit out of me upon first laying eyes on me, and then throwing themselves at me during lunch.
Take Jessica Stanley for example. She arrived at Forks High in the tenth grade and was giving me head by lunch that same day. We had a nice little arrangement where she blew me and I did nothing in return but listen to her mindless banter every once in awhile to up her popularity. Rarely was I ever so desperate that I had to call on her for sex, but hey, she was a good booty call regardless. Sometimes it was nice not having to reciprocate.
But not this chick – no way, no how. She was totally indifferent toward me. She barely even looked at me all class, and couldn't have looked more unimpressed as I told her about the most-coveted scholarship in Forks High history. My grand-father won that scholarship in his graduating year, as did my father. It was absolutely expected that I win it, and there was nothing anyone could do to get in the way. Hell, Carlisle even bribed the teachers by funding the renovation of the new school library, appropriately called "Cullen Family Library." Not that I needed bribing for my grades, of course. I was positively more intelligent than most of the teachers in this place, a benefit of Carlisle's sending me to private tutoring and private summer programs across Europe since I was five. Plus, I like to believe I'm just inherently fucking brilliant. My attitude on the other hand, well that was the cause of many minor infractions resulting in suspensions and threats of expulsion, which never looked good on a transcript. Carlisle went out of his way constantly trying to get these little professional school deterrents off my transcript.
This Swan chick was surely just on some power-trip from being top of Arizona High or wherever she said she came from, and was clearly nothing to worry about.
Don't get me wrong though, she was a fine piece of ass. She'd definitely be a good fuck, and I'm sure she could satisfy. From vast personal experience, it's always the slightly insecure girls that are the hottest in the sack.
Being Rosalie Hale's cousin, this girl had more than enough reason to feel insecure. Rosalie Hale was the hottest piece of ass to ever grace Forks High. Her mother was a fine piece of ass too, but always held back a bit; it was clear Esme had reservations about her looks, and she was too damn smart for her own good. She worked at Port Angeles General Hospital with my father and they were constantly butting heads at work.
I hooked up with Rosalie before she started dating Emmett and she was highly overrated; sure she was the hottest lay I've ever had, but she was too full of herself to reciprocate. I didn't care enough about Rosalie Hale to ruin her reputation as a sex goddess, so I let it slide. From then on, I resorted to college chicks, or whatever fine piece of ass in Forks was the next best thing. Most of the teachers here at Forks High couldn't keep their hands off me, so if they were hot enough, I'd have the occasional romp in the hay with them too so to speak. But for the most part, I was utterly and incessantly bored with the ass around this town.
I decided it was my mission to hook up with this Swan chick. She dismissed me today and that shit doesn't fly with Edward Cullen. Edward Cullen doesn't get rejected. That trucker hat didn't hurt her chances of being fucked senseless by me either. I'd never seen a girl pull off that look so expertly.
And I'll be damned if she comes close to threatening my GPA or birthright scholarship.
With that, I laid out a line of my special blend of pure white on my coffee table, grabbed a fifty, and snorted.