The "AwkWard" Contest
Story Title: It Just Happened That Way
Pen name: queenofgrey & bananapancakes7 (collab)
Disclaimer: Rated M for secondhand embarrassment & horrible sex
To see other entries in the "AwkWard" contest, please visit the C2:

Peaches and Herb had it completely wrong; reunited and it feels so goo-ood, was such a blatant lie. There was nothing good about the feeling of my heart palpitating abnormally fast beneath my ribcage, nor the way my forehead had broken out with a thin layer of sweat; I was simply uncomfortable. I never harbored a desire to see my classmates from Forks High ever again, but Angela had begged and I was at her mercy, as it had been at least three years since she'd made it out to the East coast – what, with the baby and all – and I simply refused to subject myself to life in Forks, even for a visit. That was no way to treat a best friend, or so she told me, and so I was back in Forks, staring up at the flickering neon sign of the Forks Tavern. It felt like eons and yesterday all at once, and it was very unsettling, especially in my esophageal region – a stinging, shameful reminder of my last time with the Forks High crowd. Ten years; God, how time flies.

I took a steadying breath, pulled open the door of the tavern, and made a beeline for the bar. My hands ached to wrap around a crisp, cold lager, and I hoped it would stem the bubbling of bile in the back of my throat. I hadn't cause to be nervous, really, as life had been vastly successful for me in the past decade, but, still, these people were the bane of my childhood existence. If I wasn't nervous, that would worry me more than the prospect of vomiting. At least, in the bathroom, bent over a toilet, I could hide from them.

"There you are!" Angela exclaimed, hugging my neck from behind. She had become one of those happy, shiny new mommies who think that the entire world is made of sunshine and rainbows and hugs; if it was anyone else, I would've slain them on sight. I turned around and hugged her back, my arms crushing around her shoulders as she laughed loudly into my ear. It felt good to be welcomed back with such warm, friendly arms. "God, I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too," I told her with a smile, and then cast my eyes around the room, my beer raised and gesturing to Mike Newton who'd gained a good hundred pounds and four children via Jessica 'Hickey Whore' Stanley's vagina. I didn't know if I pitied him or wanted to laugh at him; either way, I was thankful that I was not Mr. or Mrs. Michael Newton. "These other clowns, not so much."

"Fuck 'em," she whispered, hand cupped next to her mouth as if her baby were around to hear her, and I batted at her shoulder and laughed. "Come on, let's grab a table, so we can laugh at them from a good vantage point."

Over the next hour, I took full advantage of the open bar and probably had a nice little keg rolling around in my stomach. I briefly wondered if my organs were trying to do keg stands in there, but thought better of it; rather, Angela handed me another beer and thinking, in general, went out the window. I nursed it slowly, savoring the flavor of it as the room began to tilt, and, at first, I wasn't sure if I had imagined him. Was that even him? Really? Edward didn't have a beer gut, but those eyes, and, as if she were reading my mind, Angela piped up with, "Yep, how the mighty have fallen."

"Really?" I gasped, my jaw dropping in a nearly comical manner. "What the hell happened to him?"

"He peaked in high school. He's looked like that for the better part of the last five years or so." I looked back to Angela, trying to discern whether or not this was all some kind of elaborate prank to make me feel better about myself, but there was nothing but stark honesty in her eyes, or so my drunken brain told me. She leaned in close, her elbows squeaking against the lacquered table, and pointed her thumb in his direction. "You know, rumor has it that he was a virgin until, like, twenty-two. I cannot believe that, but wouldn't it be fucking hilarious, if it were true?"

"There's no way—all the sluts and—no." My brain was moving quicker than my mouth and it all came out in a jumble, but Angela probably understood what I was trying to say, anyway; we had that best friend, same wavelength thing, or something like that. All those years ago, in the bathroom after graduation, that had been what he wanted, after all; well, if it was true. Angela grinned hugely, a devious look in her eye, and she laughed loudly as she waved him over to us, the wavelength of sameness obliterated with the action. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"You should ask him about his cherry," she whispered as he nodded in recognition, a smile on his mouth, and started over to us. I smiled back politely, before turning my head away from him and chugging the remainder of my beer. I needed another to teleport itself from the bar to our table, immediately. Instead, it was as if Edward teleported and I wondered how a beer gut like that could move so quickly. "Hey, Edward," Angela's voice chimed. "How've you been?"

"Ang, you saw me yesterday," he laughed, knocking his knuckles against her shoulder like they were old pals. "I'm good." He turned his gaze to me, then, and I looked everywhere but at him. "Bella," he said cordially and I nodded, mumbled something about grabbing a beer.

"No, no, you two haven't seen each other in ages. Catch up and I'll go get it."

Angela was gone before I could protest, before I could press the pads of my fingers around her neck and strangle the life out of her, and I shifted awkwardly as Edward took up residency on her abandoned stool. I could feel him staring at me and I decided to bite the bullet and make cordial conversation until Angela returned, because, really, it was just unbearable. However, when I opened my mouth to say, "So, you and Ang, like, hang out or something?" it came out sounding like, "So, your cherry at twenty-two, huh?" and he gave me a sideways glance before whispering, "You're pretty."

Before I knew it, I sidled up to him, my hands dragging across the table with the movement, and my mouth was on his neck; I blamed the beer entirely, but it felt nice to be wanted, accepted in this crowd, especially by him. He responded immediately, his hands fitting to my hips and pulling me onto his lap. What I felt there, pressing into my thigh didn't seem too disappointing, so I poked a finger lightly into his beer gut and smiled, "You'll do," against his neck.

He kept an apartment above the tavern, which explained what happened to his stomach, and we stumbled up the back steps, laughing at nothing and everything, and I tried to picture him as his former self as I watched his behind sway in front of me. When we reached his door, he fumbled the key in the lock and pulled me to him as he pushed the door open. We met at the mouth and his back met the door, leaning against it as it closed behind us, and I wondered where the hell the wonderful kisses of my youth had gone. He kissed like a fish, all puckered lips and biting; he was a piranha and it was not, by any means, sexually arousing. I opted for his neck, instead, then lower, and lower, still – skipping over his bulbous middle – until I was face-to-crotch and he groaned above me.

"Bella, I've dreamed of this for so—"

I couldn't hear him anymore and I didn't know if I wanted to, because his dick was out and it was staring me in the face and I couldn't focus on anything but the crown of foreskin and the way it took a slight turn to the left. It was like a science experiment to me – having only been with cut, straighter-than-not penises in the past – and I had to concentrate, but the beer was making my brain slosh, so I licked the head and pulled the foreskin back. He groaned and grabbed at my hair, shoved my mouth down on him, and I gagged, but I didn't know if it was from the feel of it hitting my throat crookedly, or in general disgust. Something didn't taste right about it and I desperately wanted to brush my teeth or drink another beer.

Okay, I cannot handle The Leaning Tower of Peen in my face, I thought to myself, and then suggested aloud, "Hey, let's take this to the bedroom," because, maybe it's one of those dicks that hits all of the right places that normal man-junk can't hit because they're straight, and I kind of wanted to find out. He pulled me up by my arms and tried to fish-face me again, but I couldn't, I just couldn't, because somewhere deep down, I wanted him and had for a while and I wasn't going to let him ruin the moment – he'd spent the whole of high school ruining it.

"What, you don't want to kiss me?" he scoffed, offended.

"You kiss like a fish, Edward."

From there, it was like we were two completely different people. We weren't playing nice, weren't playing fair – we were being honest, ourselves – and the way he shoved me toward the bedroom was kind of hot. I walked ahead of him on clumsy, drunken feet and tried not to yelp as he knocked me down onto the bed, the whole of his weight pressing down on me. He made quick work of removing my top and I threw my head back against the pillows as his fish lips nipped and sucked on my breasts. It was okay, but it wasn't perfect, and then it was ruined when his hands got involved. He was turning my nipples between his fingertips like he was trying to unlock a safe and it was entirely uncomfortable.

"Edward, baby," I cooed, trying to add sugar to the sour words that would follow. "This isn't high school and I'm not a fucking locker; 18-24-30 is not going to work."

He gave me a sideways glance, his glassy eyes making it less threatening than he probably meant for it to be, and then he returned his mouth to my nipples, while his hands worked on removing my jeans. I grabbed his hair – one of the only things that was still achingly beautiful about him – as he descended, his hands tugging my jeans off entirely as he lowered himself to where I once ached for him, but where I only moderately needed him, now. It was then that I became instantaneously sober and remembered my lack of landscaping. I hadn't anticipated a romp with Edward, or anyone, when I returned to Forks, and my love life had been lacking for a month or so, so I hadn't bothered to keep up with waxing. I knew it when Edward found it, when he peered down upon the jungle that was contained beneath my lace panties like a hunter in a helicopter over lush landscape. I knew it because of the groan, and then to drive the point home, he said, "What is this, the rainforest?"

My knee connected with his chin as I squirmed beneath him, and he rolled off of me to remove his clothes. I couldn't look, mainly because I was laughing too hard, and partially because I really didn't want to see what he'd done to himself over time. I heard him tear open a condom wrapper and waited as he put it on, not really sure what kind of anxiety was pitting in my stomach. He was back on top of me before I knew it and the gentle press of his lips against my neck was okay as he rocked himself up and down between my folds, but then I felt the socks that were still on his feet and it was no longer anything near okay.

"Is it in yet?" I muttered, only half joking and growing impatient, and he shocked me as he thrust in hard as his response. I grunted at the feel, the way his cock burrowed deep within me, and I thought that maybe it wasn't all that bad, that he could make me feel pretty good. He started a shaky rhythm and I pressed my hips up to him to try to steady it out. "Harder," I begged, wanting to feel something akin to pleasure, but he was already breaking a sweat. I moved my hands from his back to his ass to help guide him, but I was met with the feel of a forest beneath my hands. I thought, Touché, Gorilla Man, as I stifled a giggle and waited for him to get off, completely uninterested in whatever was happening inside of my vagina from that point forward.

"Bell, could you maybe—Jesus Christ—could you get on top?"

"No," I answered flatly, and then faked a moan, acting like I was enjoying things from my end. I kept it up – the groaning and grunting and "Oh, Edward, yes, YES" – and worked out my Kegel exercises every now and then so he'd think I was nearing an ecstasy that I would not reach. "Come on, baby, cum for me," I whispered, glad that his face was buried in my neck so he couldn't see my bored expression, the lies in my clear, sober eyes. "I'm so close."

"God, Bella," he sighed, turning his head to kiss my ear. I squirmed at the slobbery feel of it, but played it off nicely, as if I was writhing in pleasure, and pulsed around him again to try to bring his orgasm about. The clock was ticking and there was still plenty of beer downstairs. If he came within the next minute or so, I could still drink enough to get drunk again and then sober up before sunup. I could practically taste the beer on my tongue as my cries increased and I clutched his shaking upper arms, contracting around his dick as hard and fast as I could. He stilled inside of me and I nearly thought I'd done it, that it was over, but the scowl on his face told me otherwise; there was no shudder like in the tree house of our youth. I wiped his sweat from my brow, wiped it onto the bed sheets, and asked him, breathless, "What?"

"You fucking faked it."

"I did not," I scoffed.

"You did." He rolled off me then and stood up, naked and sweating in all of his glory before me. I cringed a little bit, then got back to my act of heavy breathing, trying to make it believable that I'd just experienced the most intense pleasure this world had to offer. "Bella, cut the shit. I had my penis inside of you. I can feel these things. And, by the way, you sounded like an opera singer; a really bad one."

I was on my feet before I knew it, nearly tripping over my discarded shoes, and as I turned to grab my clothes from the floor, I saw Edward holding a handful of fuchsia: my underwear. I curled my lip, unsure whether to laugh or cry at this sex-disaster, when he spoke.

"Even so, do you mind if I keep these?"

Oh, for God's sake. Fuck this creepy, panty-keeping pervert. He probably wanted to put them on later to prettify his crooked mancrank. I snatched my underwear from him, and before he could say anything else, I was shoving him, hard, out of his bedroom and in the direction of his front door. I knew he was raised to never hit a woman, so I felt safe as I shoved him with all of my might out of his own apartment door and into the hallway. After much struggling, I got the lock clicked into place and his fists thumped heavily on the wood. I leaned back against it and laughed, then walked back into the bedroom to reclaim my clothing, which I fleetingly thought of burning once I had something else to wear. I traipsed back to the door and checked the peephole as I pulled on my shirt, and saw Edward standing there, fuming, with nothing but a sock hanging from his dick. Ha, serves you right for leaving those on in bed.

"Bella, Bella, please let me in. Bella, please. Look, I'm sorry it didn't work out. We should've done it in high school. We could've learned together. It could've been good," he said through the door as I finished dressing. I spotted his keys on the table beside the door and laughed to myself as I formed a plan. Edward continued his begging, "Please, it could've been so good. I can make it good for you."

I opened the door a crack and slipped through it quickly, coming face-to-face with him in the hallway. I quickly locked the door and tossed the keys straight down the stairwell, where a little crowd had formed and were laughing hysterically at Edward and his attire, essentially locking him out of his own apartment. He gaped at me and turned as red as I had as a child, but I was cool and collected as I told him, "Yeah, good thing that didn't happen in high school. I'd probably be a lesbian by now." I sauntered down the stairs, collecting a bevy of high-fives from the people who once failed to notice my existence, and beamed at Angela when I saw her mixed in with them. "Thanks for nothing, Eddie," I shouted over my shoulder.

"You slept with him?" Angela gasped as I neared her.

"It just kind of happened that way, yeah, but I wouldn't call it sleeping with him, by any means. It was more like being mauled or something." I grabbed her by the arm and headed for the front door. "Come on, let's go before he drags his sock-covered peen down here after me."

As the doors parted and I stepped out into the night, I felt like a queen for the first time; no longer awkward or insecure, for I had toppled the king and stolen his crown and it felt so goo-oood.