Penname: sirenastarot

Original or Derivative (fanfiction):DERIVATIVE (twilight)

Rating/Warning(s)/Note(s): Rated M, most likely non-canon couples and smut-filled. Read with caution.

Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.

Prompt: Roots

God he's beautiful.

I couldn't help the soft sigh that escaped my lips as I watched him from across the room. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he scribbled furiously.

Geez, is it humanly possible to write that fast?

Just as the thought crossed my mind he dropped his pencil to the desk and looked up at the teacher, who was going on and on about Romeo and Juliet. I looked away from the object of my fantasies for a moment so I could catch the teacher's eye and pretend I was actually interesting in class. What's the big deal with that story anyway. The fall in love, they get married, they kill each other. The End. I just don't get it.

My eyes darted back to Mr. Beautiful. He's running his hand through those soft bronze colored locks again.

There is no way that is his natural color, but I don't see any roots growing in. There is one way I could find out...

A look a frustration passes over his face for a fleeting second and then it was gone. I wondered what he could have possibly be thinking about about.

I really wished it was me he was thinking about. Him pinning me to locker, his lips firmly pressed against mine, those long nimble fingers dipping into the waistband of my jeans...

I jumped as the damn bell rang signaling the end of class. As I rush out of class I tried to remember whether or not I had a change of panties in my gym locker, when all of a sudden I found myself pinned to the row of lockers.

My knees nearly gave out as I look into the caramel-colored eyes of none other than Mr. Beautiful himself, Edward Cullen.

"Uh hi, Edward?" I gulped hoping I didn't have onion breath from the salad I ate at lunch. His eyes darted to my mouth and he licked his lips before looking me in the eyes again. That time my knees did give out, but he caught me by the waistband of my jeans, his cold fingertips grazed the exposed skin, causing me to shiver.

My breathing hitched as he leaned in, his lips ghosted across my cheek as he whispered, "Trust me Angela, the curtains match the drapes."

A/N: I know it's been a really long time since I have written anything of significance, but this is my attempt to start writing again. Let me know what you think.