The Twilight Twenty-Five

thetwilight25 dot com

Prompt: #4

Pen Name: GeekChic12

Pairing/Character(s): Edward and Bella

Rating: T

Word Count: 500 (according to gdocs)

Photo prompts can be found here:

thetwilight25 dot com/round-eight/prompts

Big thanks to twilly for looking this over for me!

The bar is hazy and smoke-filled on this balmy summer night.

The musicians on the stage wear leather pants, ripped t-shirts, and delicious smirks.

I shouldn't be here in this little college town on a random Friday night.

I should be in L.A., getting ready for my next shoot. But I had to get away. The paparazzi were all over me every time I left my neighborhood.

Money-hungry pigs.

When my best friend suggested a road trip, I packed my shit with no hesitation.

Texas in August is brutal. But tonight, I couldn't care less as I watch the lead singer make love to the microphone, full lips almost touching it, raging, wailing into it with so much passion, I can feel it in my chest.


Licking my lips, I take everything in—long, black-leather-clad legs, Sex Pistols t-shirt, ripped in strategic places, a face I'd give up my acting career for. Sultry-brown bedroom eyes are staring directly at me when mine lock onto them, the smirk on those glossy lips still firmly in place.

I tip the brim of my ball-cap at her, and she tries to hide a full-blown smile.

"I call dibs on the blonde," Emmett says as he claps me on the shoulder and takes off toward the stage. The girls' set seems to be over, and he catches Jessica Rabbit on her way offstage, working his boyish charm.

I'm cool with that. My eyes haven't left Brown-eyed Girl since they landed on her.

Jasper, Garrett, and Ben are still with me at the table. They know better than to leave me alone after what happened at that diner back in New Mexico.

I shudder at the thought of the swarm of screaming girls that had somehow descended upon me as I was finishing a piece of blackberry pie.

Sex-on-legs lingers on the stage for a few minutes, glancing my way now and again. I start to wonder if she recognizes me. Not that it would be surprising if she did. I'd honestly be more surprised if she didn't, but it would be a welcome change.

She finally makes her way over to our table, her Converse making sticky noises as she walks across the floor.

"Were you just planning to sit there and stare all night, or were you going to grow a pair and come say hi?" she asks with a raised eyebrow and that smirk still lifting one side of her mouth.


I like it.

I rake my teeth over my bottom lip, but I don't make her sweat it out too long. After all, she did have the balls to come over to me. And she doesn't seem to have a clue who I am.

The next morning over breakfast, we find out the ladies are making their way to L.A. for a meeting with a big record company.

I guess we won't be making it to New Orleans after all.

And I'm perfectly okay with that.

Thank you for reading! xoxo