Stephenie owns Twilight, and I own the plot, the rest is history.
This is the sort of Bella that I love – one who doesn't give two flying fucks and wears/does what she likes. It will always be Bella's POV, unless stated otherwise and remember, I ALWAYS have an E/B HEA. Enjoy!
Chapter One - The Getting Over it Part.
Alice Brandon: Heading off to LA! Cannot wait for our 5 year reunion, guys! – with Rosalie McCarty and 3 others in Austin, Texas.
I fucking hate Facebook, man. I signed on when we were all leaving High School and fucking off to different destinations, and I was like, meh, why not? I'll stalk these low lives, and now it's just boring. I mean, the News Feed is always saying the same shit: Whoever Whoever: had a shit day. When will my happiness come? Or, Whoever Whoever listened to a playlist on Spotify. Woopty-fucking-doo, Basil, like I give a shit. Oh, God, then you have the posts that make me want to scream: Whoever Whoever liked 'some-shit-name-that's-meant-to-be-funny's' picture, and it's, like, some poor child with cancer and at the bottom it says '1 Like gives this child a chance at living'. Er, no it doesn't – sorry.
So yeah, Facebook sucks ass.
Oh, and so does this fucking reunion.
Fine, seeing my friends after five years, in LA, yeah, that will be great, but spending a week with your ex? Not so much.
Edward and I broke up four months ago – yeah, fresh scars – and we're driving from Seattle, to LA and back again. It's gonna take us, like, two days just to get there. But it's okay, I've thought ahead, and if I need to spend that time around Prick Dick, then I'm doing it drunk. And possibly high.
Jack Daniels? Here's the other half to my charm necklace; 'cause you're my new best friend.
Typical Prick Dick, arriving precisely on time – not a minute too early or late. Well, I'm not ready yet, so he can just wait.
Five minutes later, my phone buzzes with a text message: Prick Dick: I'm outside.
Me: I know, I can see you.
Prick Dick: Can you hurry up, please?
Me: Nope, I'm not ready.
Jesus, don't have a coronary, dude.
Then, a plan – an evil, evil plan – became known. Screwing the brush back onto my nail polish, I drop it into my bag. Cleared everything up and left the house. Prick Dick has the engine running and some fucking shit playing through the stereos.
When we head off, I continue to act sickly sweet – asking Prick Dick how he's been, whether he's looking forward to seeing everyone. I don't really give a fuck, but, still.
"Oh, I wasn't completely ready before we left, so I still have to do a few things."
He glances at me warily before paying more attention to the road. Oh, this is going to be good. Prick Dick loves his car more than he loved m—er, more than he loves anything else. Slipping a Camel out my smoke tin, I wind down the window and light up.
"Excuse me? Are you smoking in my car?"
Yep, he's pissed.
"It looks like your eye sight is still intact, then. I wanted to have one before we left, but you wanted me to hurry up. So it's technically your fault."
He tightens his grip on the wheel – knuckles going white and everything.
Now, my toe nails can't go unpolished, can they? Oh, God no.
Kicking off my Chucks, I bring my bare feet up onto the dashboard, balance the Camel in one hand and the nail polish in another and I start to paint.
"Bella, if you get nail polish in my car, you can get out and walk."
Actually, I change my mind. This journey is gonna be fun.
Really wanna know what you all think. Like Bella's snarky attitude? Wanna read more? Let me know!