Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of the characters there-in. I just wanna mess with their heads a bit. This story is extremely OOC, so keep that in mind pretty please. There are no vampires. In this story, let vampirism equate to beauty and confidence.
I have been writing stories for quite some time, but this is my first fan-fiction, so bear with me, lovelies...and I dunno about you's guys, but one of my pet peeves is different points of view...I cannot stand to read the same event over and over from different perspectives, so please don't expect me to write it LOL. If that ever were to become absolutely necessary or perhaps demanded by my probably one fan out there, I might reconsider for small excerpts. Highly unlikely however. I hope you enjoy the mad workings of my mind!
Please please slip me a review just to let me know if you like it, or sucks big time so I can just go ahead and know I fail in general. I would actually love suggestions since this obviously is not a finished story and who knows where the hell the wind will blow these people. There will be some lemons, of course, but I am much more turned on by the little things in life...not a size reference...I mean, the true chemistry can be in the other things that attract people and pull them in so don't expect rated x smut full of thrusting here and there and everywhere LOL. But I digress.
My amazing Beta, long live the queen, is Danell.
"...In brokenness comes beauty...Divine fragility..."
Chapter One
Three a.m. Perfect time to go grocery shopping. Even in Los Angeles, there just aren't that many people with a burning desire to buy fruit in the middle of the night. What a relief.
I pulled into the Ralph's parking lot, maneuvering my black Range Rover SUV into a spot in the very front, looking around at all the empty spaces suspiciously. I didn't see anyone. That didn't mean they weren't there. Sigh. How had this become my life? I'm just being paranoid.
But I didn't really believe that. Do paranoid people ever admit that they are just being paranoid? And is it paranoia if it's true? I grabbed my purse from the seat beside me, checking my reflection in the mirror first. Satisfied that there were no errant nose hairs or odd smudges of things on my face, occupational hazard, I slid my aviators onto my face, pulled the hood of my charcoal zip-up sweatshirt up over my head and reached for the door, hopping down from the seat, my black Nike trainers cushioning the contact with the hard concrete. My feet still hurt from being on them for over a twelve hour shift and I winced slightly. A nice soak in the tub when I got home was sounding better and better. And a glass of wine. Shit, a whole bottle of wine.
The night air was just barely brisk, and there was a nice breeze that kissed my scrub clad body as I walked away, clicking the remote door lock a third time for good measure. I am practically textbook OCD. No, just textbook retard. How therapeutic is that? I suddenly realized I'd left my list in the office at the Emergency Room; I would have to wing it. Of course, I already couldn't think of what I was shopping for to begin with. I always needed produce, since that encompassed a great deal of my diet. Alcohol, perhaps?
The sliding glass doors whooshed open and I veered to the right, grabbing a buggy, bee lining it immediately for the lettuce. Sigh. The highlight of my life had become sneaking to the grocery in the middle of the night. My existence had become so lame. And I didn't like the way any of the lettuce looked. Sickly. I moved on to the apples, immediately feeling my lungs tighten at the sight of about fifteen different varieties, and my God how does one choose after working twelve hours and ducking photographers every way one turns. Being paranoid again. No, simply whiney.
I was standing, transfixed, with apple in hand, trying to decide between Golden Delicious, Granny Smith and Gala when I felt someone's eyes on me. I slammed the apple down too roughly and pushed my buggy onward. I was not in the mood for questions. And definitely not in the mood for pictures. I tried to be nonchalant and whiz to the other side of the produce section at the same time. I thought I heard footsteps behind me, so I became utterly fascinated with the bananas and prayed the person would pass me by.
"Pardon me," a male voice said rather softly, obviously to me because there was no one else in a five-mile-radius.
I continued analyzing the bananas. Truth be told, I did not intend to buy bananas. They were too ripe, and if there was one thing I could not abide, it was a ripe banana. But without realizing it, I had begun to pile bananas into my cart. I could feel my fair complexion flushing, and my palms were beginning to sweat. I knew my scrubs were a thin cotton material, but they all of a sudden felt extremely heavy and hot. I reached for more bananas.
"I'm sorry, aren't you-"
"Nope. I'm not," I cut him off grasping two more bunches. What the hell was I doing?
"Well, I was just going to say-" he continued, clearing his throat, sounding very uncomfortable. Why was HE uncomfortable?
"Look," I turned to the side and angled around my buggy, putting it and the growing mound of bananas between the lurker and myself.
"I don't know what you want, but I'm just..." Just what? What the HELL am I doing?
"Buying out the bananas, yes I see that," he chuckled. That was when I noticed he had an English accent. The way he pronounced the name of the fruit made even me want to eat them. Seductive. Fucking Limeys.
"What exactly do you want?" I knew I was starting to sound a bit shrill.
I finally raised my eyes, for the first time, to the stranger who was interrupting my banana spree and had to refrain from sucking in my breath dramatically. I'm sure I already appeared to be a lunatic, gasping and clutching the produce island wouldn't help matters much.
He had raised his hands in an "I surrender" gesture and a small smirk had spread across his features. I wasn't sure what was so amusing. The fact that I now had a half-full cart of bananas, or the perspiration that had beaded up across my features before I even saw who he was. He was dressed per the usual, in that casual but purposeful slouch attire that had girls across the globe swooning. With the release of the fourth, and final, in the series of action-romance-sci-fi-comedy-drama films from which he had become a world renowned movie star, it was amazing to me that the mania surrounding him had not really decreased at all. So great, it was me and celebrities worthy of being stalked who shopped at Ralph's at three o'clock on a Thursday morning.
He was smirking more openly now, his gray blue eyes shining mischievously at my expression, or lack there of. I still had not spoken. I was trying desperately to think of what to say and then realized I had my black wayfarer's on in the middle of the night, in the middle of an empty grocery store. He must truly think I was one of the many nuts who roll down to California.
I straightened up and flipped a long strand of chocolate brown hair out of my face before looking away. No need to break down and start screaming like a nut that fell from a tree. Boy does THAT thought take me back. It has been ages since I'd checked Facebook. I felt that old familiar pull and pushed it away. The spell was broken. I was a different person now. I had a life. I had a boyf- well, an ex-boyfriend who chose to remain in my life until the end of eternity. Sigh.
"I'm sorry, what did you say you wanted?" Good plan. Pretend you don't know who the hell he is. This is LA; he could very easily be a vagrant asking for money. Yes, give him your 'vagrant don't ask me for money' face.
I set my eyes, despite the sunglasses, and looked at him again, desperate to convey that I was not aware of his celebrity, only now he was openly laughing at me. His eyes were dancing with amusement - did I smell cannabis? - And his mouth was wide open in mid-cackle when he saw that I was looking at him again. He stopped immediately, with some effort, but the small smirk remained.
"I just wanted to ask you a question," He grinned, "Only apparently, you thought I was some kind of stalker," THIS was apparently of paramount amusement and he openly chuckled. Well, I guess I did deserve that.
"Um," I bit my lip and tried to decide what exactly I should say. I couldn't tell him he didn't understand what it was like to be followed around every time I left my apartment, to have my picture on the front of all the local smut trash, to have people faking complaints at the ER to try and get an interview. I'd only dealt with this for two weeks, and through an accident of sorts. He'd been dealing with it for five years now, since the release of his first series film. I'm sure he'd been through much worse.
"Well, that was your choice," I spit out before I realized he couldn't hear the thoughts in my head. Oh God, had I just come down with schizophrenia and was hearing voices?
"I mean," I immediately waved aside his confused look, which amazingly STILL held a goofy looking grin, and continued, "What?"
"What?" he looked totally taken aback.
"What?" I pressed. "WHAT is your question?" The old stand-by returned to me and I began grasping a bunch of bananas.
"Okay, calm down!" he laughed, reaching across my buggy and trying to take the bananas from me.
"There's a whole island, get your own," I looked at him incredulously; obviously ready to fight a stranger over bananas I didn't even want.
He reached further and his hand covered mine. His eyes held a slightly serious look now, with just a hint of amusement in them. He's decided you're an escaped mental patient and he is going to help you find your way home. The second his skin came in contact with mine, of course, even HIS pale skin is darker than mine, I lamented; I felt a shock. Like static electricity. I jumped and dropped the bananas, pulling myself away and edging around the side of my cart again. He looked down at his hand fleetingly and back up at me with a strange expression. Had he felt it too? He's just wondering why anyone of the female persuasion would have such an aversion to his hand as to jump and run.
"Okay, seriously," I felt very disoriented suddenly. This was not the way a celebrity sighting was supposed to go. You were supposed to stalk THEM, not vice-versa.
"Have the bananas," I finished, "I have to go."
"Do you really NEED all these bananas? Are you alright?" he seriously looked concerned.
"I'm fine! I thought you were another one of THEM," I spat at him. "I just got a little disoriented, I suppose-" holy shit you are rambling about being disoriented to one of the most famous men in the world.
"Another one of WHOM?" he leaned in conspiratoriously, making me flush at his sudden close proximity. He noticed, of course, and smiled slightly.
"Um, never mind. It doesn't matter. Nice to meet you, um..." I turned on my heel, jolted by the squeak from the soles on linoleum and practically ran to the exit.
/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/
"Wait!" I heard the now-familiar English voice calling.
Damn my bottomless pit of a purse! I could be barreling out of the parking lot right now, instead of standing at the hood of my car, up to my armpit in my brown leather bag.
"Please, leave me alone!" I yelled. Why was I yelling? "I've already made enough of an ass of myself," I whispered too loudly.
"How did you do that?" he approached the SUV cautiously. "Didn't you want your bananas?"
"NO! I did not even WANT bananas!"
"Then what the fuck" he motioned toward the store, but when I put up one hand to stop him, he did. He rolled his eyes and threw his hands up again as a peace offering.
"Look," I sighed after a moment's silence, aware that he had not taken his eyes from my face. I was not accustomed to a stranger, of sorts, making such intense eye contact and it was unnerving. "I don't know WHY I am explaining this. It will sound retarded." To YOU. I left off the part where it would sound retarded to a mega-star who is accustomed to running for his life if he wants a gallon of milk.
"I doubt it," he said dryly, then motioned for me to continue.
"Okay, um," I readjusted my stance, slinging my bag back onto the hood of the car and rolling my eyes at the sound of the keys clanking about. "In a nut-shell," haha, NUTshell----focus dammit! "I have been being slightly harassed lately by the media."
"NO!" he gasped softly, his left hand clutching his right elbow as his right hand flew to his mouth as though astonished. "What ever for?" he looked at me as though I might perhaps, be a criminal.
"You don't live around here do you?" my eyes narrowed, noting his mocking tone. "There was an accident, beginning of last week, involving the...um, mayor...and his mistress." My eyes fell to the ground. This story was so MORE than annoying by now.
"Are you the mayor's mistress?" he faked being appalled, his eyes widened and his mouth hung open. Mocking me again.
"No!" I answered, indignantly.
"Well, that got your knickers in a twist," he laughed.
"Okay, I explained. Now, what did you want to begin with?" I grabbed my bag and began digging once more, eager to NOT meet those piercing blue eyes again. I didn't like his looks, or his teasing. I was not a fan-girl anymore. Those days were over. Not that I ever WAS a fan-girl. Whatever.
"Well, I did want your advice about something culinary," he sighed deeply, as though I had ruined some genius plan in the kitchen. I could feel him staring still, so of course I was red as a tomato, and still digging in the fucking Mary Poppins bag.
Suddenly, the bag was whisked out of my hands and he gave me a defiant look as he plunged his arm down inside, his fingers groping around the contents. He kept his eyes locked on mine, which were HORRIFIED and unable to break away from his. There was something very disturbing about the way he looked at me while rummaging around in my...purse...dear God, what might he find??? He seemed to sense my embarrassment, although perhaps not the cause and he consciously channeled his gaze to include a slight smile. His eyes danced mischievously in delight at my chagrin and there was a twinkle of something...almost...naughty? Yes, I am officially a retard.
"Ta-da!" his grin broke out completely as he produced the keys, dangling them out in front of me, but just out of reach when I grabbed for them.
"Uh uh," he shook his head.
"Thank you?" I said the first thing that came to mind.
"You are welcome," he smiled and then shook his head again, "But that's not what I wanted," he almost leered in amusement.
Holy shit! What does that mean? What grade was I in? I was blushing like an idiot. Surely, he doesn't mean what I am pretending in my sick, now deranged mind... He stepped forward, allowing me to clutch my bag from him. Somehow, it managed to wedge itself against my chest, under my crossed arms, as though it were armor. I felt my lameness again and blushed five shades of red. He grinned, knowing exactly what he did to women, and using it to his advantage. Damn him! I am not THAT girl!
"Well," I stepped back, "I don't know WHAT you wanted or WHAT you feel you're ENTITLED to..."
"Why would I feel entitled?" he was baiting me. I had yet to acknowledge that I knew who he was. I had done everything to prevent him from knowing. Why, exactly?
"I...uh...well, just because...you're male," I stammered. Smooth.
"I see," he chuckled, "Well, I do not feel ENTITLED to anything, but I did think perhaps you and I could have a drink." Still an alcoholic, I see.
"Oh, no, um- out of the question," I was already in the papers, I was not going out anywhere with him. Suddenly, a thought occurred and my eyes darted around...
"No one is there," he murmured, almost embarrassed, "The car park is empty."
I smiled in spite of myself. Car park. Sigh. No, absolutely not. Walk away, you moron. Run! Oh, he has my keys still.
"Okay, I really have to go," I reached for my keys, but he didn't release them.
"Where?"
"Home!" my eyes widened. "It's well after three o'clock!"
"Yeah," he nodded seriously, "And what? You just got off work at this hour?" He was raking his eyes over my gray-blue scrubs, and I didn't know whether to feel flattered or extremely uncomfortable. Uncomfortable. I'm not his type, it makes me feel inferior.
"Yes, I did. I work in an Emergency Room. Tonight I worked the 3-3 shift, so I'm on my way home." Did he need all that information?
"And just needed to make a banana run first?" he was laughing again.
"I explained about the bananas," I was humiliated. This man had consumed my thoughts and dreams for almost a year. That had been over four years ago, and I honestly hadn't thought of him much since, except to see the new movies when they were released. I had become very fulfilled with work, continuing my education and receiving a Nurse Practitioner's license, and was happy with my job in the ER. Now, standing in front of him, I felt vulnerable, and naked. And not in a good way.
"I'm just teasing," he chuckled. "So, how about that drink? Most places are closed," he looked around as though a bar would suddenly appear in the middle of the 'car park', and then his eyes found mine again.
"We can go to my hotel," he immediately saw my expression change, "Or your place! We can go to your place! You can help me with my recipe."
"Contrary to what you may think of females, not all of us cook," I frowned. What are you doing? You're an excellent cook.
"No, of course not," he frowned in acceptance. Something in his eyes saddened me. Was he lonely? Where were his friends? Why was he roaming around Los Angeles grocery stores in search of culinary advice?
The idea struck me as humorous for some reason and I giggled.
"Good grief, I've never worked so hard for a smile in my entire life!" he exclaimed, smiling back at me. "And your smile is lovely," he craned his neck downward in a strange fashion, serious again, suddenly very close. It felt intimate somehow. Right.
I took the moment to snatch my keys from his hand. His eyes changed to a bemused surprise and I realized I was making this too fun for him. He was used to girls running after him, not AWAY. Of course, it didn't make him think I was a lunatic, it intrigued him. I was a conquest at best. And that infuriated me.
"Ha," my eyes flashed as I took a few steps back, bumping into my car door. I felt a bit maniacal. I could see he was confused.
"I'm not in the habit of taking strangers, especially strange MEN, back to my apartment," I knew my tone was haughty, but I had to keep myself safe from feeling vulnerable.
"I apologize. I wasn't insinuating you did, honestly," he looked hurt, and... sad again. Don't look in its eyes! Look away. It's all a trap.
"Of course not," I nodded, "But it's late and I really have to go." My expression had shut down, and he could see it. I saw his shoulders slump as my message got through to him.
"You have a car here, I assume?" I waved my hand when I saw his eyes brighten, "Because, um... I mean... I'll call you a cab, gladly, if you're on foot." I knew the black Porsche Carrerra parked three feet away was most likely his and my suspicions were confirmed when his eyes darted to it.
"No, I have my car."
"Okay, good then," I clicked the un-lock button and pulled on my driver's side door.
"I really do apologize for bothering you," he stepped forward once.
"No, you didn't bother me," I felt something stab my gut. Great, appendicitis brought on by a stressful celebrity sighting turned exercise in humiliation.
"I still don't know that many people here," he tried, "I live mainly in London." I knew of several other celebrity types that he knew and had seen his picture in various magazines with them. Why wasn't he with any of them?
"Don't believe everything you read, remember," he nodded and muttered as though to himself. What is he, a wizard?
I felt like my insides were going to combust for some reason. Is this what people felt like when their intestines exploded?
"Oh, well, it takes time...to meet people," I waved his comment aside and opened my door all the way.
"Maybe we could get together another time?" he pressed. What did he want? To humiliate me on more than one occasion? To do it publicly?
"Um, well, I'm really very busy," I hemmed, starting to close the door, until he moved to a position where I would've taken off his shoulder in the action.
"So am I," he nodded thoughtfully. "But drinks... I mean one drink. One drink." Ha! He knows he's a rumored alcoholic!
"I'm sorry," I felt the tears coming. I hadn't even realized they were threatening, when they were suddenly there. I fought them back, blinking and rubbing my burning eyes. "I'm extremely tired," I explained to his now wide eyes. Certainly, he thinks I am insane. That must be the point. A good laugh for him and his pals. The crazy, not so attractive girl he picked up at the grocery store at 3 a.m. buying all the bananas.
"Please move," I stated pointedly, shutting my door when he did.
I didn't look at him again. I started the car and immediately The Kings of Leon were blaring loud enough to hear five blocks away. I winced and turned the knob down slightly, glancing in my peripheral vision to see his crooked smirk had reappeared. Why was I fighting the urge to give him the finger? I ignored his amused stare and put my car into drive, my hand raising slightly to wave at the person I pretended was not there, and sped off and out of the parking lot.
That had to be THE worst celebrity 'meet' in history. I sped home unable to keep the horrific thoughts from flooding my mind. I'm not sure why I was so sure he had nothing better to do than gossip with his mates about clearly disturbed girls who actually resisted being picked up by the most famous Englishman in current history; but I just knew that he and his friends would get a good laugh out of this one.
/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/
I woke up unable to breathe, a cry escaping my lips. I sat straight up, clutching the bed sheets, which were damp with sweat. Amazingly, waking up had not made me feel better. I had dreamed, in perfect detail, of the late night events, only everything had been distorted into horrific images accompanied by wacky music. Similar to being in a 'Funhouse' at a Carnival. My head was spinning; my thoughts racing—Please let it have all been a dream. Of course, it wasn't. Only you would be lame enough to turn a ridiculous embarrassment into a blood-chilling nightmare worthy of sweat and tears.
My Weimeramer let out a series of whimpers from his large, circle dog-bed a few feet away.
"It's alright, Jake," I sighed and he groaned back down into his comfortable position.
I reached over to the nightstand and grabbed my phone. There was only one person I could call. I let out a long sigh and dialed Alice.
"Hmmm?" she answered on the second ring, obviously asleep and very groggy. How could she sleep at a time like this?
"Alice?" I whimpered, barely able to hold it together.
"Oh my God, Bella? Is that you?" I could hear her bed creak and groan and she shuffled around and sat up. I could picture the worry on her face and I tried to calm down. I did try.
"Holy hell, A—It's the worst... absolutely worst fucking day of my entire fucking life!!!" I sobbed.
"Worse than when Emmett dumped you?" she asked in shock.
"Not helping, Ali!!!!"
"Sorry. Sorry. Explain," she was sounding sleepy again, knowing I was alive, I suppose she didn't see the urgency.
"You can't imagine what I've done," I proceeded before beginning a rushed and tear slurred version of the night's history. I began to think she wouldn't even be able to understand a word I was saying, I had become so hysterical. Hell, I could barely understand, and I was there!
But suddenly, she stopped me.
"You did WHAT?" I heard her feet hit the floor and then stomping around in her closet. Uh oh.
"Blue Moon Cafe. Fifteen minutes," she barked at me, hanging up the phone immediately.
/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/
4/29--I have updates coming sometime later today. New chapters! I would love to hear what you people reading think though, ideas are always welcome! xx
