SM owns the characters... I just like to play with them!

A/N: This is my first O/S, hope you enjoy it!

-Another Night-

Live as if you were to die tomorrow.

Learn as if you were to live forever.

- Mohatma Gandhi


It's Friday.

I'm alone at home. My two roommates, Rose and Alice, are off with their respected boyfriends and, as usual, like every other Friday night, I'm left to fend for myself.

Now, don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoy my Friday nights. It's the fucking highlight of my boring ass week: I get to rent another fucking movie.

This is what I do every Friday night. I've been doing it for the last two months like clockwork since the beginning of the school year. It seems my routine helps me cope with not allowing myself much time for a life outside of school and work.

I go into Roger's Video Store and Internet Cafe, I grab whatever "New Release" Roger has conveniently roped me into wanting to see. I go home, make popcorn, watch the movie, have a 'release' of my own, and got to bed.

Every. Fucking. Friday.

Because getting a boyfriend or a date or even a one night stand, for that matter, would require some sort of social encounter. And I just don't wanna.

I don't want to go through spending obscene amounts of time getting to know some guy, who might or might not be even remotely in my league, not that I even have a league for that matter, then, having awkward, fucked up, in and out and go home, bad sex. And, just because this shit is so much fun, you never see him again and you start over with another guy the next weekend.

Just like I did my freshman year. I don't think so.

You live, you learn.

I drank a fuck lot that year.

Nowadays, Friday is movie night and Saturday I'm usually at my part-time job at the call centre. Yeah, I'm one of those people.

I usually do an 8 hour shift throughout the night, listening to people bitch about their bad cellular service and trying to tell them to calm the fuck down. Sweet.

This is my life, I study and go to class all week then movie night on Friday, work on Saturday, sleep on Sunday, then start it all over again on Monday.

Just fucking sweet.

What a life.


I walk into Roger's feeling almost excited to see what stimuli I could find for myself this week. I'm in the mood for something smutty. Roger might not like my selections this week.

I should just rent porn or maybe I should have just stayed home and read some fanfic smut with my Bunny. Some of that shit's pretty fucking hot.

"Hey Bella" Roger greets me when I walk in.

I nod and give him a small smile as I head towards the back where the "New Release" section is located, but not before I glance around and notice there is a new figure sitting in my usual spot on the couch in the corner of the Café area.

See, I usually sit there, have a large caramel macchiato and read a few magazines while waiting for the good blockbusters to come back from wherever they were rented out the night before. Roger is pretty good at letting me know when they'll be in if there aren't any more on the shelf of the one I want to see.

Sometimes I just pick something else and go home, but this usually leaves me unsatisfied, and since my Friday ritual is the only good thing in my hectic week, I try to patiently wait for the aforementioned choice to be dropped off.

And tonight of all nights there is somebody sitting in my spot.

And he's fucking hot. No, he's not hot, he's fucking pretty?

And he just caught me gawking at him.

And Bella doesn't usually speak to the Pretty since she's too fucking shy and turns beat red at the very sight. Drunk Bella however, speaks to the Pretty but she's been away for a while and might never come back. Bella might just have to give Drunk Bella a call soon, this guy is definitely a whole other range of the Pretty.

Bella also knows that speaking about herself in the third person should probably warrant a trip to the psych ward.

Fuck. My. Life.

Feeling a little dejected, I make my way to the back of the store, hoping to be lucky enough that the new Rpatz movie is there.

That boy makes the panties melt right off of me.

But it's not there. So I ask Roger about it. He says there should be a copy of it coming back in less than an hour.


Hoping to be able to find something else to my liking, I saunter around the rest of the shelves in the small, mom and pop style video rental store to scope out some possible new discoveries, and not to mention the possibility that the Pretty might leave so I can thoroughly wallow in my self-loathing.

But all of this is to no avail.

Unless I want to see some lame ass 90's crude comedy. Nothankyouverymuch.

Damn it.

So, I make my way to the counter where I ask Roger for my usual. He smiles and heads towards the coffee machine, where he makes sure to make mine with some extra whipped cream. Just the way I like it.

Every. Fucking. Friday.

I smile at Roger as I hand him some cash and take the hot cup in my hand. I then decide to strengthen my resolve and head towards the Café sitting area. I can do this. I can sit in the same general vicinity as the Pretty with the beautifully tousled bronzed coloured hair.

Who has bronzed coloured hair? Really? I need help. No, scratch that, I need to get laid.

I decide to sit on the chair opposite the corner of the sectional where he is sitting.

Trying to be unobtrusive, I settle my steaming cup of java on to the coffee table between us and pick up one of the magazines strewn about next to my cup.

He clears his throat and I look up to meet the greenest eyes I've ever seen. They're like emeralds surrounded by long dark eyelashes.

"That's mine." He says, deadpan.

"What?" I furrow my brows in confusion as I try to decipher what he's referring to. But my brain decides it won't work because the Pretty smiles a crooked smile that goes straight to my crotch.

Oh and that voice, my God, nice and deep.

Fuck. Me.

"The magazine you're holding, it's mine." He repeats, leaning back into his seat, still grinning.

I take in his appearance and wonder if I can make my mouth say words, but all I come up with is "Oh" as I hand it back to him.

I take a deep breath and lean into my seat, taking my eyes off of him before my brain filter goes away and I actually call him Pretty out loud.

Boys don't like to be called that. I assume. I've never met one like this before; they're usually cute, handsome, good looking, charming or just plain nice. This one though, sweet Jesus, he puts Rpatz to shame.

I take my drink into my hand and fiddle with the plastic cover before assaulting my tongue with the warm liquid.

"You come here often?" He asks in his smooth velvety voice; the sound going straight to my crotch. Again.

I look around, thinking maybe there's somebody else he could be talking to, but he's staring straight at me, with that shit eating, panty destroying grin.

I swallow what's in my mouth and answer, totally bypassing the filter. "Meh, just every fuckin' Friday night" I shrug nonchalantly and smile at him.

The sound of that voice and the crooked grin are like truth serum, I just can't lie to his face and tell him I never come here.

Who me? Nah, I never come here, I usually have all sorts of plans on Friday, I line them up all weekend.

I suck at this shit. Drunken Bella would definitely have a blast with this Pretty boy.

"Well, you'd think I'd noticed a pretty girl like you." He leans in closer to me and lowers his voice to a whisper so that I'm the only one who hears him and continues "I'm here almost every Friday too."

I look over to Roger, who's particularly interested in some book he's reading and wearing a big toothy grin.

Fucking Roger. Old man knows what he's doing. I'd bet my movie is sitting behind the counter waiting for me to pick it up.

I smile to myself, might as well have a bit of fun while I can.

I look over to the strange beautiful boy and ask "How have I not seen you before then if you say you're always here?"

As the thoughts and words left my mouth, it suddenly hit me, what my English Lit teacher had been trying to convey to us all of last week.

He had given us an assignment. We had to study a list of quotes, dig into their true meaning and write a paper about it.

When I had read them over, one had particularly struck a nerve.

Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever. - Mohatma Gandhi

If I die tomorrow I will be a pretty fucking bitter Shrew. Be it a very well versed Shrew.

So, in the presence of the Pretty boy in front of me, and Roger's obvious enjoyment, I decide to let myself just be and have a little fun with it.

It seems he's making polite conversation and instead of doing the usual and shying away, I decide to take a deep breath and talk to him. He seems nice enough.

He won't bite, will he? I could bite him. His Adam's apple certainly is tempting.

Cue the embarrassing shade of red as I take another sip of my macchiato.

I might need to change my panties when I get home.

"Oh trust me, this is the highlight of my week." I deadpan.

I'm actually totally serious but he doesn't need to know that.

"Don't feel bad, it's mine too." He replies sympathetically.

Who does he think he's kidding? That kind of Pretty doesn't sit around alone on Friday night and watch movies.

Unless there is something wrong with him.

I just stare at him for a moment, trying to come up with the words but all I blurt out is "Really". What the hell?

"What's your name?" He replies while leaning against the back of the sofa and bringing his ankle to rest on top of his knee while tapping his fingers on the aforementioned ankle.

"What's yours?" I decide to play hard to get. I need to stop calling him Pretty.

"Ed." he replies and smirks.

He fucking smirks.

His eyes have a gleam in them. He looks playful.

"Well Ed, when you tell me your real name, I'll tell you mine." I decide I want to play too.

"Oh, I wasn't aware we were playing a game of show me yours and I'll show you mine." It's his turn to catch me off guard.

I blush an obscene shade of red, because in all seriousness, this jackass is a definite turn on. Our banter, for me at least, makes the top ten lists of fun things to do on a Friday.

"Oh, I'll show you mine." I smirk. "When Hell freezes over."

"Well, Bella, this is Washington, so it could happen." He replies.

Wait, what?

Did he just...

"How do you know my name?" I furrow my brow and glare at him.

I let my guard down just to get a slap in the face. I feel a bit betrayed by my current situation.

"I know a lot of things about you, Bella." He purrs.

What the hell? This makes no sense.

Do I have a stalker? Am I being Punk'd?


"What the fuck? Who the fuck are you." I stand up, all awkward shyness dissipating pretty quickly as I give him the best evil eye I can possibly muster up.

But he's so God damned Pretty.

"Oh, Bella, you don't remember me do you?" He finally asks, still sitting down.

Oh trust me Pretty boy, you, I'd remember.

"No, of course not." I furrow my brow questioningly and try to keep my voice down. "If I did, I would have told you my name."

"Figures." He replies. The look on his face is of pure disappointment?

"Why did you bother asking me what my name was if you already knew? What kind of sick twisted pervert are you anyways?" I'm livid and kind of screaming at him at this point.

I look over at Roger for some kind of support, but he's nowhere to be seen.

Fuck this.

Without letting him answer, I turn around and head for the door. I'm sure the greater Seattle area is littered with video stores I can visit. I can only hope to make it to the safety of my car without Stalker Pretty Boy following me.

"Wait Bella, I'm sorry." I hear his footsteps behind me but I don't turn around to look.

I make it to my car in time to feel his hand wrap around my upper arm and pull me towards him so that we are face to face.

"Get the fuck off of me." I start but he just puts his hand over my mouth. I kick him in the shins, this makes him smile.

Fuck, he's still fucking hot. This is so wrong. I definitely need help.

"Isabella Marie Swan, you're not running away from me this time." He loosens his grip on me. The confusion in my face clearly evident he ads "you really don't remember me do you?"

And then he smiles.

God I wish I did.

"Who the fuck are you?" I ask and bite my bottom lip nervously. I'm kind of hoping that Roger is looking out for me.

His smile gets wider and he replies questioningly "Emmett's older brother?"

And it dawns on me.

"Edward motherfucking Cullen" I look into his eyes and smile back "What the hell are you doing here?"

I used to babysit Emmett when I was ten. He was only one year younger than me so he was more of a friend than a kid I babysat for. The money was good and his mom was nice. Edward was his much older half-brother, and by much older I mean that he was twelve at the time.

He had moved away to Chicago to live with his own mother around that same year so I only saw him a couple times, but I can tell you he did not look like this.

I would have remembered.

"I got transferred to U-Dub, I didn't know you went there." His smile is genuine and I feel my panties getting wetter by the second.

He was definitely NOT this hot when we were kids.

The Edward Cullen I remember was tall, skinny, and gangly, with braces, glasses and a serious case of acne. He always had really nice eyes behind those eyeglasses. His eyelashes would have made any Cover Girl mascara spokesperson jealous.

What the fuck?

"Yeah, umm, this is my last year actually." I reply, trying not to look at his lips.

He let go of my arm and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets while balancing himself on his heels. He looks kind of shy.

"Oh, do you ever see Em?" He asks.

"Funny story, actually, he's dating my roommate." I nod and smile up at him.

Emmett is Rose's boyfriend. They met a few years ago through me. I didn't even think about asking Emmett about his brother.

Funny, maybe I should have.

"Shit, he didn't tell me about seeing you." His face gets all serious as he asks "you want to go back in to get your movie or coffee or whatever?"

I couldn't say no. Fuck, turns out I actually know this Pretty one.

"Sure." I reply as we head back into the store. Roger greets us both by name. Turns out we missed each others' presence on a few occasions. We sit back down where we were only a few short minutes earlier.

"You changed, I swear I didn't recognize you" I blurt out and bite my lip as soon as the words leave my mouth.

Damn brain filter again.

"Well, Isabella, not everybody can be as beautiful as you always have been." He deadpans.

What. The. Fuck. Is he coming onto me?

I guess some things just don't change. I faintly remember him leering at me from across the kitchen table. I just thought he was weird. Boys had cooties back then.

"Edward Anthony Cullen, are you coming onto me?" I ask, looking straight at him from under my lashes and raising an eyebrow questioningly. I couldn't help myself.

Maybe I want to flirt a little. I mean what if I die tomorrow? Right?

He leans forward to close the gap between us and says with a crooked smile "What if I am, Bella?"

My mouth fell into an 'o' at the sound of my name rolling off of his tongue in such a way that makes my skin all sorts of tingly and my breath hitch just a bit.

I recover quickly, closing my gaping mouth and licking my lips.

Fuck it. I know this guy.

"You want to watch your movie at my house?" I bite my bottom lip and fiddle with the hem of my shirt with my fingers. Fuck if I wasn't just a tad bit nervous. And turned on. Definitely turned on. This could go all sorts of bad.

Emmett will kill me, Rose will bury my body and Alice and Jasper can scatter my ashes.

His face brightens up; he reaches for my hand and gets up off the couch, pulling me with him. We walk to the counter where he pays for his selection.

Adam Sandler, I don't think so. Good thing I don't plan on watching it.

Roger just smirks at both of us and waves us off. Dirty old man.

I tell him to follow me to my house. I'll be alone all night. Usually the girls sleep over at their respective mates' apartment, claiming sexcapades as a rite of passage at University.

Who am I to argue with their logic?

I look in my rear view mirror and damn if he isn't following me so close I swear I can see the grin on his face. And the faint hair on his jaw line. And his perfectly messed up sex hair.

Let's just hope he didn't turn into some murderous letch in the last twelve years.

It's thinking like that that makes Drunk Bella so much fun. She would have jumped on his lap right at the coffee shop and ground into him until he begged for more.

I park my car in its respective parking spot and get out just in time to watch as he parks his car into the visitor parking and gets out.

His smile reaches his eyes when he sees me. This is so obviously not a coincidence. But I don't care.

I make my way to him, my eyes holding his gaze. We don't speak. I unlock the door to my apartment and we step inside.

I look up at him, because he's so much taller that the twelve year old I remember.

I reach for the lapel on his jacket and pull him towards me as I get on the tip of my toes to meet him halfway.

And I kiss the living hell out of him.

It's almost like he knows what I have in mind because he doesn't miss a beat and kisses me back. It starts out soft but I open my mouth to him and graze his tongue with mine. We kiss feverishly, until he groans and pushes me against the wall.

I can feel his dick pressed against my stomach. He's rock hard for me and I want him just as bad as he seems to want me.

I hitch my leg around the back of his calf. He grabs my ass and lifts me up as he leans into me so I can wrap both of my legs all the way around his torso. His dick is firmly pressed against my pussy giving me the friction I want. I moan as the sensation takes over my inhibitions and I realize what the fuck I'm doing.

Another. Fucking. Friday. IDONTTHINKSO.

I pull my face from his, breaking our kiss and look into his eyes. They're so god damned Pretty. The long lashes surrounding the deep emerald colour now darkened by his arousal.

He leans close to my neck and breathes into my ear "God Bella, I've wanted to do that ever since I first laid my eyes on you" and then kisses the spot right underneath.

I let out a soft moan; it feels so good to be with him like this.

"You wanted to grind me against a wall when I was ten?" I ask, smiling and raising my eyebrows, obviously teasing him.

He pulled back and looked into my eyes and replies "not when you were ten, I've been around Forks, I've seen you grow up Isabella." he bites his bottom lip, mimicking my own nervous habit, before continuing "You've always been so fucking pretty."

And I lose it. Completely. He calls me pretty, just as I had called him all evening.

For a brief moment I wonder if I had said it out loud. But I decide I don't give a fuck.

Drunken Bella came out of retirement, bringing with her Sober Horny Bella.

I kiss him again and pull on the sleeves of his jacket, trying to get the obtrusive fabric away from his body. He lets me down from his clutches and we scurry to the kitchen, leaving a trail of clothing on the floor.

We kiss and touch each other everywhere in our haste to get undressed.

I reach down and wrap my hand around his dick. I am indeed a very lucky girl.

He groans as I pump it a couple of times. He then leads me backwards until my ass is leaning against the kitchen table. I know what he's doing and I oblige, propping up my ass to sit on it.

He kisses my mouth, then my chin all the way down my neck. It feels amazing. His hands make their way to my breasts where he traces soft circles around my hardened nipples. He then kisses his way to my chest, eliciting some pretty whorish moans. But I don't give a shit.

Neighbours be damned. I'll blame it on Rose.

I feel his mouth on my breasts as his hand cups my sex and his fingers slide into my folds.

I wrap my hands through his hair and lean back slightly. I hear him groan, this excites me even more.

He gets the memo, the kitchen table is made for eating. I smirk.

Just as I had hoped, he looks up to me with his own devious grin and kisses his way down to my pussy. He kneels on the floor in front of the table and pulls out two chairs on either side of him so I can rest my feet on the back of them.

I then feel his fingers graze against my swollen clit. He kisses the inside of my thighs teasing me just enough so that by the time I feel his tongue against me, I almost lose it.

His fingers press inside me, pumping in and out as his lips and tongue lavish my clit.

I come so hard I call him a 'prettyboymotherfucker'.

He fucking chuckles as he pulls me up so that I am sitting on the table. He leans down and kisses me. I can taste myself on his lips and I moan like the whore we both know I am.

I reach down and take his dick into my hands, pumping it a couple more times before scooting myself closer to the edge of the table and guiding him to my entrance.

I wrap my legs firmly around him as he pushes himself inside me. He then stops as my body adjusts to his.

I look at his face and see the Pretty boy I lusted after a few hours ago but I'm reminded of the awkward teenager he used to be.

I bring my hands around his neck and my lips meet his as he thrusts into me a bit harder, hitting a certain spot that makes me moan and pant.

We find a comfortable rhythm. For the second time tonight, I come harder that I have ever in my life.

Edward meets my gaze and with a few more grunts and thrusts, I hear him calling me his Sweet Bella.

He wraps his arms around me as he slides himself out.

We hold each other in my kitchen, I'm still sitting on the table and he's standing in front of me.

I look around and see the destruction and I laugh. There is discarded clothing strewn about. My bra is hanging from one of the cabinet door knobs.

I smile up at him, he kisses my forehead.

Another. Fucking. Friday.