Penname: SinAndShame (SinShameGuilt on ff . net)

Rating: M

Genre: Romance/Drama

Pairing: Edward/Bella

Total Word Count: 5141

Summary: Looking in a mirror is tough. Especially when you're forced look at whom you really are. It's always easier to see what you want to see in others, rather than who you really are yourself.


n. the tendency to ascribe to another person feelings, thoughts, or attitudes present in oneself, or to regard external reality as embodying such feelings, thoughts, etc., in some way


There was a softness to her that surprised me. She was all curves and smooth skin and confidence. The girls I'd been with always seemed to have a quirk, something that bothered them, something they shied away from showing me. It was more than just a little insecurity with most of them; it was almost like they were ashamed of something. Not Bella. I'm not saying she was standing there with a whip in her hand putting me in handcuffs; she was just so comfortable with herself. And that made me comfortable.

I'm not sure how this whole thing started. Okay, I'm lying. I know how it started. But getting to this point, where Bella was lying in my bed, stealing my covers and snoring a little, that is what I'm not really certain about.


"I guess you've never had a really good blow job then."

It was the first thing she'd said since we got here. At least the first thing I'd heard her say. I laughed, gave her my best crooked smile, and decided to tease her a little bit.

"Is that right?" I said, leaning a little closer, hoping that I was being sexy and not just drunk. "So what exactly constitutes a good blow job?" She looked up at me with these huge brown eyes and tilted her chin like she was deep in thought at my question. She wasn't ugly. Then again, I may have been wearing some serious liquor lenses. My buddies were with me though, so I was relying on them. Friends don't let friends beer goggle, right?

My twenty-first birthday pub crawl ended up at some house party. I wasn't sure what time it was, but it was late. Or maybe it was early, depending on your perspective. Regardless, the party was definitely winding down. I had little concept of time, but I did notice Tyler smacking his closed fist to his chest, giving the rest of us the signal. Even drunk, we knew the signal and it didn't mean we had to leave. Nope. That meant we were in the red zone and it was time for action. You know, the red zone: the last bit of quality time in the evening we had to find a hook up, lest we waste a perfectly good buzz. We never wasted a good buzz. And tonight, I had a great buzz.

Apparently Tyler was laughing at me, though. Wait, now she was laughing at me, too. Why the fuck is everyone laughing at me tonight? Now that I'm actually trying to think about it, they're probably laughing because I look like an idiot. I vaguely remember the guys dressing me up to go out. I think I have a tux shirt on. With a bow tie. And running shorts. And flip flops. Oh, and a duck bill hat if I remember correctly. No. Not a ducked bill cap as in a ball cap, but a hat that is shaped like a real fucking duck's bill. I think it even has feathers. Why the fuck did I let them do this to me? Oh, that's right. Because I'm a dumbass, I just turned twenty one, and they're my brothers, my fraternity brothers. In most cases, they're better than blood brothers, but they will fuck with you at any given opportunity. Hence, my outfit. The brothers of Sigma Chi ride again.


I can feel something on my leg. I'm trying to pry my eyes open but they're crusted shut so I try to open my mouth instead. Smacking my lips and tongue, I'm certain that someone has fed me part of a dead cat while I was passed out. Maybe that's what is on my leg. Hoping to rip off the proverbial band-aid, I hurl myself over the side of the bed so I can crawl to the bathroom. This is going to be a long fucking day.


"I'm telling you, last night was epic. I think it may go down in the annals of Sigma Chi as one of the most prolific nights ever."

I give Tyler a side-long glance, complete with raised eyebrow and finish it with my patented fuck you eye-roll. Douche. He's trying to cash in on my misery and doing a damn good job of it.

Ben is just smiling. Not even smirking like the rest of these assholes. He's actually smiling. Like he's fucking happy or something. I shove his leg under the table and lift my chin at him. "What the fuck happened to you," I ask him quietly and then realize my head still fucking hurts.

He just shakes his head at me and smiles. "Later."

I'd laugh at him but my head hurts too much.

"And to finish our recap of last night, let's have a round of applause for our man Edward here for managing to be the only one in the house that didn't get laid last night."

I managed to flip him off without opening my eyes. The light hurt, okay? Alas, neither pain nor annoyance would stop me from fucking with him. "Who says I didn't get laid last night?" The laughter stopped and the table fell completely silent. I managed to uncover my eyes and squint without passing out. Everyone was staring at me. Even Ben was looking at me with his mouth open. I didn't get it. "What?"

The guys started looking at each other, silently deciding who was going to break the news to me. There was obviously news, I just wasn't sure if it was good news or bad news. Mike cleared his throat, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. "Uh, Edward, what exactly do you remember about last night?"

I tried to think without hurting myself. "I don't know, I remember we ended up at some house party."

Mike cleared his throat. "Do you remember hitting the red zone?"


"Do you remember having a discussion about blow jobs?" The guys all chuckled. A breakfast conversation without talk about blow jobs was practically unheard of so that was a stupid question. "I mean a discussion with a girl, about blow jobs."

Again, I tried to clear the fog from my brain. "Kind of. I think some chick told me that I'd never had a good blow job."

"And there we have it ladies and gentlemen; the beginning of the end of for Mr. Edward Masen."

I still didn't get it but I was too nauseous to worry about it. I won't think about it now. I'll think about it tomorrow.


All I can see is hair. Reddish brown maybe? I don't know. It's shiny and long and I'm looking down at it, running my fingers through it. It's kind of dark. I can't really hear much either. The hair is moving. I can see that much. Fuck. The hair has a mouth and I'm pretty sure my cock is in it. Yup. Jesus. It's in there alright. Damn. She's humming or something. Maybe moaning? I don't know. All I know is that her mouth is on my cock and its vibrating and feels fucking fantastic. Shit. I think I'm gonna cum soon. Should I warn her? That would be the gentlemanly thing to do, right?

I do my best to move my hands up, pushing her away. I'm grunting something instead of telling her because it feels so fucking good I can't speak clearly. There's a sliver of light coming in under the door and I'm trying to get her to look up at me. Jesus. Fuck. Her tongue is right fucking there. This shit should be illegal. Or at least available on the free market.

"Ungghhh, I'm gonna, ohhhhhhhhhh. . ." that's all I can manage before I feel her lips tighten around me and her fingers gripping my hips like a vice. The haze gives way to a focus of some sort, a pinpoint of sensation that holds my complete attention while millions of tiny neural bursts explode, spiraling around me.


It's pissing me off that I only remember bits and pieces of last night. I remember drinking. A lot. Shocker, there, I know. I remember getting to the house party. I remember the guys high fiving each other and talking about hitting the fucking lottery. Literally. Then I remember a brilliant smile. And a blow job. Can't forget the blow job. What I don't remember is her name. Fuck. How cliché` is that? How big of an asshole am I? That's rhetorical, by the way.

I'm sitting in the TV room, still with a hangover only a frat boy could be proud of. Ben is sitting next to me pretending to watch whatever mindless reality show the guys have on. As he casually leans across me to grab a remote I hear him whisper, "Bella."

Confused, as usual, I just look at him and raise an eyebrow. Obviously trying to keep the other guys from hearing, he just mouths to me. "Her name is Bella."

"How do you. . ." He stops me with a shake of his head and just whispers "later." Fuck him and his later shit.

A few more minutes and he stands up to stretch, announcing that he's headed to the library to get some homework done. I am not in the mood for homework. But I'm also not in the mood to sit here and try to piece together what happened last night. Even if it involves the library, it appears as though Ben is my best hope for answers. Grunting something about having to fucking study, I trudge out of the room and upstairs to get my backpack.


I'm watching her intently as she unbuttons her shirt. It's soft and flimsy so it just kind of lies against her skin until she's peeling it down over her shoulders. I can't help myself so I reach over and ghost my finger across her skin, gently nudging her bra to the side and rubbing at the little mark that it left there.

This is so much different than the last time. We'd gotten to the point where we could joke around about it and she would laugh and remind me when her birthday was so I could give her the same present. But now she was here. In front of me. And it wasn't a joke.

I step up behind her and gather her hair in my hands, moving it carefully to fall over her shoulder, exposing her neck. "What if I don't want to wait until your birthday?"


I can't decide if the breeze is making me nauseous or if it's making me feel better. It's a fine line when you're this hung over. Actually, chemically speaking there's a good chance I'm still legally drunk. Bonus. If I play it right, I can get drunk tonight for a lot less money. At that thought my stomach fires a warning shot over the bow. I concede defeat easily and make a note to stay in tonight with a bottle of club soda.

"So," Ben starts as we're walking through the main quad toward the library. "What do you really remember about last night?"

"Honestly? I told you guys everything I remember."

"Oh." He says with some disappointment.

"Why? What the fuck happened that everyone is just fucking weird about."

"Well, we're all kind of assuming you're just playing dumb about what you remember."

"Why the fuck would I do that?"

"Well. . ." He's obviously stalling. Ben is a nice guy; probably a little too nice sometimes. He's much nicer than most of the assholes in our fraternity. Don't get me wrong, I love my brothers but they can be a harsh group of douche bags sometimes.

"Just fucking tell me Ben, it's driving me up a wall right now. What happened that I'm never going to live down?"

"Let me ask you this," he says in his best Columbo voice, "do you remember hooking up?"

"I remember there was a girl and I remember getting head, that's about the extent of it."

"Do you remember anything about her?"

My sense of self preservation kicked in a little bit. There was something about this that was very wrong and it was likely to haunt me. Do I own up to what I did remember or play it off like the guys think and save whatever face I had left?

"Maybe a little."

"What do you remember?"

"I think she was kind of funny, like witty or whatever," I said looking at him and he smiled back at me. "And I remember she had really cool long hair." He looked at me again, encouraging me to keep going. "And she might have had this awesome smile. But don't quote me on that shit."

Now he was grinning from ear to ear. "Anything else?"

"Nope. Well, other than I'm pretty sure she gave me the best blow job I've ever had. But that could have been the liquor pitching that advertising."


"What the fuck does okay mean? Are you gonna tell me what happened or not? And how the fuck do you know her name was Bella, anyway?"

"Well," he looked around as we stopped in front of the library. Pulling me away from the main entrance, he leaned in like he was ready to tell me some shit that would be up on Wiki-leaks next month. "I met this girl last week and. . ."

"What the fuck does this have to do with me getting head on my birthday?"

"Listen Masen, I'm trying to do you a favor right now. I know you're hung over but if you'd just pipe down for a minute, I'll get to the point and you can fucking take this information and kiss my ass, okay?"

Damn. If Ben is getting pissed off I must really be dickish at the moment. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I just can't figure out what the fuck is so wrong that even Mike has shut up."

He gives me a little bit of a sympathy nod. "Okay, so anyway, I met this girl, Angela, last week and I saw her out last night so we kind of chatted and hung out. She's fucking awesome. She's smart, cute as hell, a little shy but god, Masen, she's just. . ."

"Focus Ben."

"Yeah. Okay, anyway. Her roommate was with her last night so we were all kind of hanging out and they kind of moved over to the house party with us after the bar closed."

"So Bella is her roommate?"


"So what's the big deal?"

"Uh. Um. Okay, let me preface this with, I don't agree with the guys assessment of the situation, okay?"

"What? Is she really ugly or something? Did you guys just let me get head from an ugly chick? Because that's not cool at all."

"No. No. She's actually very pretty. You're spot on about the smile, by the way. And she was cracking me up last night, so yes, she's funny as hell."

"So. . . ."

"Hey Ben!" I heard a sweet, way too chipper voice come from the entrance to the library. As I turned around to see who it was, all I caught was the back end. I had to laugh a little. It looked like it might take her ten minutes to get through the door. To put it nicely, she was not a small girl.

When I turned around, Ben had one of those stupid smiles on his face. That got me thinking. "Ben?"

"Yeah," he said looking back at me, still smiling. I had to laugh at him.

"Damn Ben, are you heading toward chubby chasers anonymous or something? Do we need to have an intervention?"

He quirked his eyebrow at me like I was an alien. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"From the way you were looking at her, I'm assuming that was Angela."

"No, that wasn't Angela."

"Whew, that was a close one man, for a minute there. . ."

"That was Bella."


I'm completely drunk on her presence. She's so open, so communicative. It's a whole new world for me to have someone who'll tell you what they want; what they need.

I trace patterns over her hips, brushing my knuckles along the lines of her body. She's mesmerizing. There's a depth to her that I've never experienced before. A sincerity that's pulling me toward her with strength I can't overcome. I give in and decide I don't want to fight it.

The delicate scratch of her nails in my hair teases me while I'm letting my lips and my fingers study her breasts. I chastise her for distracting me from my mission. When she laughs at me, I can feel it from her core, a sense of being that barrels out from her and hits me squarely in the chest.


Talk about awkward. Apparently Bella works at the library, so when she walked by our table with her cart of books, he just had to stop her. I could have killed him. To be honest, that isn't what pissed me off the most, though. He pretended to "introduce" us and she just shook my hand like it was nothing. Like nothing happened at all. She either didn't remember or she didn't care. I'm going with didn't remember. I mean seriously, how often do girls like her get to hook up with guys like me? I mean, I'm not trying to be cruel or anything but I'm pretty popular, a decent looking (okay, pretty hot from the way most girls talk), I'm not exactly stupid and I'm in the best fraternity on campus. You don't get into Sigma Chi without the right assets to back it up.

Maybe she was really drunk last night. How else would she have the nerve to even hit on me, let alone do, well, that? That has to be it. But she didn't seem too hung over when we saw her at the library. Maybe she just doesn't get hangovers. Yeah. I'm sticking with that theory.


A few days later, I'm walking through the foyer, heading to class when I hear something like a tire leaking coming from the living room. "Psst. Masen!" I glance back in and see Ben sitting at the table with books and papers everywhere.

I lean in to see what he wants and he waves me over. "What? I'm gonna be late for class."

"I found out some info you may be interested in."

"Yeah, so?"

He looked around; making sure no one else was within earshot. "I talked to Angela to kind of get the scoop on Bella."

"Why do you need to get the scoop on Bella, Ben?" I teased him. "Are you planning on dumping Angela?" I slugged his shoulder and laughed.

"I got it for you, asshole. From the way you were talking, I thought you were a little interested maybe."

"WHAT? Why the fuck would you think I'm interested in her? There's no way I'm interested in her. I have no idea why the fuck you would think that." Ben was obviously smoking crack. There's no way I could ever. . .

"Oh. Well. . ." Ben gave me a weird look. Sympathy, maybe? Whatever.

"Yeah. So, that's that. I need to get to class."

Again with the look. "Sure, man. Catch ya, later."


I'm not English major but I have a good vocabulary. At least I thought I did. But words escape me when I'm inside her. It's arousing, comforting and exciting all at the same time. She encourages me, shows me what she needs and how to please her. The little smile that pulls at her lips when she slips back from her precipice is the most glorious thing I've ever seen.

She's blissful but playful when she pushes me away a little only to get on her hands and knees in front of me. A smirk over her shoulder and a gentle taunt and I can't help but accept her offer to take what I need. The graceful line of her back bleeds through the haze of my orgasm and I realize once again, just how beautiful she really is.


I don't get home until late that night. I'm tired and a little pissed off. It's been a frustrating day. We had to sign up for classes for the mini-term coming up and I have a professor who is adamant that I sign up for a class outside of my "comfort zone." Fuck that. I'm a math and stats major. Of course, by the time I get the chance to log on and pick a class, there aren't any openings left in the classes I want. Professor Cullen was really touting this mid level political science class and said he thought I would enjoy it. He said that I could always look at analyzing public policy issues from an empirical standpoint. Reluctantly, I sign up for the fucking political science class. I'm not even sure where the political science building is. Fuck. I hate change.

I unlock the door to my room and throw my backpack on the desk. As I toe my shoes off, I almost slip on something lying on the carpet at the threshold. I pick up the envelope and look it over. It just has my name scrawled on the front of it. I don't recognize the handwriting but I open it and pull out the short note.

Edward - do with it what you want, but Angela insisted I tell you this. Bella mentioned something to her that she felt bad she kind of ignored you the other day. She DOES remember what happened but she feels guilty because she kind of has a boyfriend at home and is afraid he'll find out. She said she'd rather it all was forgotten, if possible. So that's that.

But if you're curious:

Bella Swan


Pi Beta Phi Sorority - Vice President (lives in sorority house)

From Seattle

Political Science Major

Huh. She was a Pi Phi? They must be lowering their standards these days. I tossed the note in the garbage on my way down to dinner.


Let me go back to the fact that I hate change. I was already pissed when I ended up registering for that damn Poly Sci class but when I realized that it was actually a hard class? I was furious. The professor suggested that I get a tutor, so I did. The first available tutor on the department's list was, you guessed it, Bella.

That was an awkward phone call. "Hi Bella, this is Edward Masen. You know, the Sigma Chi you blew on his 21st birthday but ignored because you didn't want your boyfriend to find out about it? Yeah, that Edward Masen." Okay, so it didn't exactly go that way. It was more "I know you're Angela's roommate and Ben's one of my best friends and is there anyway you can take pity on me and help me pass this fucking class?" That was much closer to the actual phone call.

She laughed at me. Again. But she did take pity on me. So that led to tutoring sessions. And that led to coffee. And that led to me realizing that Bella is kind of an amazing person. She could translate Latin legal terms one second then turn around and give me shit for some girl hitting on me when I was out drinking.

I won't say the guys in the house understand. That'll never happen. Maybe I don't even really understand. Ben does, because he knows Bella. And most of the guys behave when she's around. There's the odd crass comment that I just ignore. There's a part of me that wants to punch something when I hear those things but there's another part of me that doesn't want to explain why I punched something.


Gentle kisses gave way to soft snores which gave way to a hint of sunlight through the blinds in my room. Despite vividly sweet memories of last night, the phrase 'cold light of day' settled ominously over my conscience.

As soon as Bella is dressed I tell her to wait a minute while I check the hallway. "I just don't want anyone to, uh. . ."

She sighs but waves me off. "I get it Edward."

I don't want her to worry about someone seeing her walking out this morning. Trying to be chivalrous and all. Right? Right.

"Okay," I say in a whisper, sticking my head back in the room. "The coast is clear; I don't think anyone else is up yet." She rolls her eyes a little bit and shakes her head at me. I know she senses my hesitation as we walk down the stairs. My eyes dart around quickly, looking for any signs of life in the house.

"You know Edward, if you're that worried about it, why didn't you just make me climb down the fire escape?"

Instead of laughing at the situation, I have the gall to just shush her, telling her to keep it down so we didn't wake anyone up.

Finally, we are standing on the porch and the sun is just coming up over the trees. As elated as I am about the way the night turned out, a part of me is grateful that none of my frat brothers were up this early. I am clearly not ready to deal with that potential ordeal.

Bella knows what I'm thinking. I raise my hand to touch her face, wishing I wasn't scared to give her a proper good bye out here in plain view. She steps back from me, giving me a look that screams disappointment. With a sad smile and the same sweet voice she used earlier, she asks me the most obvious, yet frightening question possible. "What are you afraid of, Edward? I mean, what are truly your worst fears?"

I certainly wasn't expecting that. Then again, I'd learned that Bella rarely did what I expected her to do. "Uh, I don't know. Failure, I guess. Rejection?"

"Exactly. Those are the same fears that I have. I don't want to get hurt. I don't want to fail. I don't want to be rejected. Everyone seems to want to project other fears, their fears, on to me, though. I have to be afraid of what people will think about me. I'm supposed to worry about what someone may say, what name someone might call me. And apparently I'm supposed to worry about every guy I meet shunning me in favor of someone who weighs less."

She was determined now, motioning with her hands but not raising her voice. "You know what? I do worry about those things. But they certainly don't control me. I don't worry about them any more or any less than that blonde tramp hitting on you last night does. Probably less, come to think of it. At least I can carry on a conversation with words longer than two syllables."

I wanted to laugh but the seriousness in her tone and the conviction on her face stopped me.

"You know when I decided none of that was going to define me? When some guy told me that I shouldn't 'shop out of my price range.' I was fifteen. Fifteen years old. According to him, I had some nerve even approaching him, let alone asking him to dance. Most of my friends in high school would have shriveled up if someone said that to them. Don't get me wrong. I wanted to. There was a big part of me that thought he was right and that I needed to just go back and fade into the walls of that high school gym. But I didn't. I was so nervous even going up to him. And when he said that, I got even more nervous. So I basically did what everyone does when they're nervous. I laughed. And I kept laughing. Then I realized that he wasn't laughing; that he was embarrassed that I was still standing there and that I was laughing at him. And it was right then that I understood that HE was the one that needed feel inferior, not me. He was the one that should be uncomfortable for saying what he said, not me.

"It was empowering. Realizing that you don't have to define yourself by what other people think and say. That is some serious shit for anyone, let alone a fifteen year old. I may not be perfect; in fact, I'm pretty damn sure I'm not. But I'll tell you this, my imperfections are mine, I own them. They are part of who I am only because I allow them to be - not because someone else tells me they are. And by god, my weight is not what I consider to be one of my major imperfections."

She sighs and seems to reign in her frustration. "Listen, Edward. I like you. Probably more than I should. But I don't have a lot of time for games in my life. There were moments last night when I think you really saw me, and I really saw you. But the way you looked at me before we came downstairs? The things you're worried about your frat brothers saying to you? About me? Those are your insecurities, Edward. Not mine. Just remember that." And with that, Bella walked away.

She was right. I questioned everything about her, not because of her own self doubt or her own persona, but simply because my own perceptions and societal indoctrination told me to.

So all I could do was watch her as she walked down the street, head held high. A melancholy came over me as I turned to go back in the house. Everything about this scenario was backward. Instead of riding a high of amazing company and great sex, I was shaken. Six hours ago I thought Bella would be lucky to hook up with someone like me. Four hours ago I thought for sure she'd get more out of it than I would. Two hours ago Bella turned my world on its head in so many different ways. Ten minutes ago my mind fought back and it fought dirty. I was projecting my own indecision on to her. Now I realized just how wrong I was. About everything. Bella wasn't doing the walk of shame this morning, but I certainly was.