A/N: I'm a new writer, never done this before, yadayada. let me know if you find this any good, and i'll continue. if not, it was fun, and this can kind of almost stand alone. Please point out grammar and spelling mistakes and please tell me exactly what you think. :)

thanks. dd.

I am a cliché. I'm 17 years old, a social outcast, and stumbling upon love when I need it the most. There will not be a happily ever after, but that could just be the pessimist in me. Because, really, if it was my choice my story would end now. I'm 17, suicidal, and about to jump off a cliff. Into the icy waters below, or a lovers embrace. I don't know which.

Chapter 1

Watched Pot

"Anyone desperate enough for suicide...should be desperate enough to go to creative extremes to solve problems: elope at midnight, stow away on the boat to New Zealand and start over, do what they always wanted to do but were afraid to try."

Richard Bach

The thing about tomorrow is that it will never come if you wait for it. It's much like a watched pot, that way. I'm sick of waiting for the promise of a new tomorrow, and so you won't find me with the rest of the ho-dunk high school at the Friday night bonfire by the cliffs in La Push. Instead I'm sitting, alone, at the cliff's edge with nothing but my bra, underwear, and tennis shoes on. The winds keep blowing my blonde bangs across my eyes, blurring my already tear filled vision. I can hear the music of Beyonce or Rihanna or Banana or Somebody filtering through the trees. The wind is cold, the rain is cold, and the water below me is sure to be much colder. But I don't really plan on surviving the fall, anyway. The tennis shoes are a back up plan, if I don't die from the fall, I'm sure to suffer from hypothermia as I hike the path back up to my clothes wearing nothing but soaking wet underwear. And I don't even mean that in a dirty way.

I wipe my tears away, pull my hair back into a sloppy ponytail, and get to my feet. I'm shivering so much my knees buckle a few times on the way up. It can't be warmer that 35 degrees and my body is not shy about voicing its complaints. I step towards the edge and peer over the side. The black waves roll violently in and out below me. I take a breath and steel myself.

I'm sick of waiting for tomorrow. I'm done waiting. This pot is never going to boil. I square my legs, take a deep breath, tighten my core, and raise both arms above my head in position for my dive. As I add spring to my legs by crouching down ever so slightly, bending my knees and feeling the strain in my thighs, I hear a voice. This isn't Banana, Apple, or Carrot playing on the boom box with all the high school jerks. This is a real person.

Shit.

The voice behind me calls again, "Hey."

I'm frozen. This was not part of my plan, or any of my back up plans. I assumed no one would come to the cliff at night. I never thought I'd be caught in the act. Finally I let my arms drop down to my sides. I can't even turn around because the voice is male and I'm wearing nothing but a soaking wet bra, underwear, and tennis shoes.

"Hey," he says again and I hear his footsteps approaching me slowly. I guess he doesn't give up easily.

"Hey," I finally whisper back. He gets steadily closer until he is standing a few feet behind me.

"Whoa," he gasps as he sees my clothing predicament. "Whoa."

I chuckle mirthlessly before turning to face him. He's not someone I recognize and seeing as the school population is barely larger than I can count on two hands and feet, I'll take a shot in the dark and guess he's new. His clothing is as soaked as mine, though he's wearing a lot more layers than I am. He has on dark jeans and a navy hoodie with the words "Temecula High School" printed above a roaring white tiger. Yep. He's not from around here. As I scan up and down his body I can't help but stare into his green eyes. The same way the waves are see-through black, his eyes are green. So green and clear it's almost as if I can see straight into his soul. His hair is dripping and matted down to his forehead.

"I'm not interrupting something, am I?" He eventually stammers.

"No," I say, "nothing of importance." Because I'm not. Important, that is.

"Oh, so, um, we're you planning on putting some clothes on or…" He scratches the back of his neck when he's uncomfortable.

"Give me a minute and I'll get dressed."

"Yeah, sure, okay." He turns away slowly, but not before taking one last look at my nearly naked form. As I'm pulling on my wet jeans he begins speaking again. "So, I'm new here, and I guess you already knew that, but my name's Edward and I don't know anybody here yet besides you and the girl at the grocery check out stand. I think her name was Jessy or something. And I don't even know your name – "

"Bella." I cut him off.

"Oh, okay. So you're Bella, I'm Edward, and the girl at the checkout is Jessy."

"Jessica. Jessica Stanley." I correct him.

"Jessica. Right. She told me there was going to be a bonfire up on the cliffs tonight and that the entire high school would be here, but I wasn't expecting all the rain, the cold, or the bad music. Or the fact the entire high school is so small."

I grimaced as I tugged my sweatshirt over my head. "Yeah," I don't really know what else to say to him.

"So I take it that you being over here alone means you're not too keen on your peers?" He voice is gentle and soothing, like warm milk and honey after a long day.

"I'd say you're a pretty good guesser, Edward." I smile then, and the muscles in my face are so out of practice all I manage is a weak squiggle at the corners. I turn to face him and allow, "You can turn around now."

Instead of doing what I ask he sits down on the wet pine needles and pats the earth next to him, "Sit down," he says.

I grudgingly comply, but I'm really pretty cold and want nothing more than to curl up in the warmth of my bed and sleep until tomorrow comes. I sigh as I ease my shivering knees up under my chin and turn my gaze to Edward.

"Why do I feel like I'm forcing you to be with me?" he mutters. "If you want to leave you can. I won't be insulted. I get that I probably just ruined your evening and you're totally embarrassed about being caught with the new kid. So if you want to go, go. I won't be upset."

"No, Edward. It's not like that, honest. I've just had a long day, a long night, a long week, and I'm a little tired and cold. Why don't you tell me about where you came from? Why'd you move here?"

"I'd offer you my sweatshirt but it's soaking wet and trying to freeze against my skin as we speak. We don't we go somewhere warmer? I'd take you out for coffee or something, but I have no idea where a good place to go is."

"You've got three choices here. The Diner, which serves the same pot of lukewarm coffee all day long, Starbucks inside the Safeway downtown where my aunt works and she's likely to talk you to sleep before she even gets started on your drink, or there's Claire's. It's a little bookstore over by the school, the girl who owns it, Claire, serves coffee, tea, and home baked cookies if you're willing buy a book from her. Claire's is my favorite, but it may not be your kind of thing."

He gives each of his choices a few seconds of thought before asking, "What type of books does she sell?"

"Whatever you request. She also has a selection of classics, some bestsellers, a lot of romance novels, a few self-help books, and a travel guide or two."

"And the coffee's good?" He smiles.

"The tea is better. But yes, other than 'Bucks, she's got the best in town."

"Okay. Claire's it is. Did you drive yourself here?"

"Nah," I say, "I walked." I point across the cove underneath us to a lit up little house. "That's where I live."

"Well, if you wanna head over to my car we can leave the rain behind, curl up with a good book, and get to know each other a little better. What time do you have to be home by?"

"My dad won't care. He's working this week, so he isn't home."

"What's your dad do?" He asks as we set off towards the parking area.

I consider lying to him, but figure word gets around too fast. "He's a cop."

"Oh." Edward says. "Oh. Umm, well, my dad – Carlisle – is an E.R. doctor, so I kind of know how the 'important parent' thing goes."

Again my lips try to form a smile and I wonder briefly if I should have worn make-up today before shrugging off the thought. I'm not that attractive anyway. "So you're one of the Cullens."

Edward makes a noncommittal grunt before mumbling, "Word gets around fast here, doesn't it?"

At that I laugh. Yes, Edward, yes, yes it does.

He stops alongside the only new looking car in the designated parking zone. It's a shiny silver Volvo and compared to the beat up grey Honda next to it, the car looks like something straight out of Autoweek. "This is my baby," He smiles, embarrassed. "Um, she was a birthday present from my dad a few years ago. My biological dad, not the one I'm living with." He says with a wince, watching my expression.

Adopted. Cullen. Car. Nice. Hot. "Oh," is all I can think to reply. We climb into the car and I'm careful to avoid getting mud all over his upholstery.

"So, Claire's?" He says, waiting for directions before heading out onto the road.

A/N: review?