Hello, all. There is a Korean movie that exists - "100 Days With Mr. Arrogant" - which inspired this story. This holds the same idea, but will have VERY different events, characters, etc. So I give the idea credit to that film, but the rest of this is mine! It's also an excellent, hilarious movie - I suggest you check it out ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or its characters - those are all thanks to Stephanie Meyer. =)

Enjoy!

xxx

car trouble

If someone had told me the beginning of the worst month of my life would occur that evening, I'd laugh at them.

With how well things were going in my life, having a worst day didn't seem feasible. I was earning exceptional grades in all of my courses. My favorite college professor had agreed to write me a letter of recommendation for an internship program I wanted to enroll in. The internship program seemed to be a shoe-in for me; I was an excellent student with a nearly flawless academic record. And there was my boyfriend, Nathan. We'd been together for a year and planned to celebrate our anniversary at one of the more luxurious bistros in the city.

If someone had told me that the worst day of my life was about to unfold, I'd think they were crazy.

Little did I know that nine hours later I'd feel like the crazy one.

Because I will now introduce you to the series of events that led up to the worst fucking day of my life.

xxx

It began in my political science class. This was the course taught by my favorite instructor who'd agreed a month prior to write my letter of recommendation. After the class had ended and I gathered my books, he had stopped me from leaving the room. It was an awkward moment; the other students smirked a bit as they flooded out the doors, and I was left in the cold, empty room with Doctor Lewis and his steel-framed desk. I approached him cautiously, clutching my bag at my side and attempting to maintain calm as my breathing became shallow.

He sat at the large desk, scribbling something on a piece of paper frantically. When he finally did look up, pushing his oval-shaped wire glassed up on top of his head, I knew something was wrong. You see, Doctor Lewis almost never slides his glasses up to his head. It's a bit of a trademark move he goes through with when a student is in trouble or if something dire exists.

"I suppose I'll cut right to the chase, Bella," he spoke in a low, even voice. My heart raced a little quicker at this. "I've graded all of the exams, and while you've been such a wonderful addition to this class, I'm - I'm a bit astounded at your test in particular."

The exam was sitting in front of him; I recognized my barely legible handwriting. What was completely unrecognizable, though, was the excessive red streaks darting along my scribbles. I let my eyes lift from the paper to meet his. "Did I do poorly?"

He sat back a bit, glancing down at the test. His chest puffed out in an inaudible sigh. "I've never seen you do worse than a high B on these exams," he began, looking up towards me. "Did you study for this? Or… get enough sleep?"

"Doctor Lewis," my voice was dry - hoarse, even. "Please just tell me. What did I get?"

A long moment of silence sat heavy through the air.

And then…

"You received a sixty-five."

I blinked rapidly, not able to fully comprehend what he'd just said. "W-what?"

His sigh was audible this time as he looked up towards me, leaning forward onto his hands. "Now, a sixty-five is certainly not an F - "

"To me it is." I couldn't breathe very well at this point.

"We all have our off days," he explained calmly. "However, I am sad to say that this exam has brought your class grade down to a low B."

I swallowed hard. "Can I make up for it?"

"You can," he nodded slowly. "But unfortunately this impacts my ability to write you that letter of recommendation."

Now I really couldn't breathe. "I'm - I'm sorry?"

"I don't like the politics of it, but if a student falls below an A, I'm not obliged to write something like that for them." Pausing, he offered a solemn half-smile. "I'm sorry, Bella."

My eyes had gone uncomfortably dry, as I wasn't blinking or really even understanding what was happening. All I knew was that I'd just checked off two great aspects of my day. No longer did I have straight A's, and my favorite professor had just rejected me.

Two down.

xxx

"It's only a grade."

My roommate's voice was infuriatingly drone as it echoed through our tiny apartment and into my room. I was standing in front of my mirror, my mood nearly entirely deflated from my encounter with Doctor Lewis earlier that day. Of course my roommate would say this - she was a fashion major failing nearly every course. School and grades were not top priorities on her list. I attempted to keep my head up, however; I still had a wonderful dinner with my boyfriend in an hour. I still had that.

"Is that what you're wearing?"

Her voice was stronger this time around, and when I turned my head, I saw that she was leaning against my doorframe with a bag of low-fat pretzels in her hands. She eyed me with disinterest, her gaze roaming my jeans and simple white blouse.

"What's wrong with it?" I questioned, chewing my lip as I fastened the final button near the top of the shirt.

She let out a sigh, strolling towards me and discarding the half-eaten pretzel bag on my dresser. I saw her in the mirror behind me, much taller and disgustingly more beautiful than me. After a long moment, she pointed a long, manicured finger towards the lower hem of my blouse.

"There's a stain right there," she said. "It's pink or something."

I narrowed my eyes, looking closer. And there it was, in all of its pink glory. A spot the size of a quarter, it was noticeable even under the poor lighting of my bedroom.

Well, fuck me.

I groaned, my arms falling to my sides. "This is my only nice shirt that's clean."

She smiled slightly, cocking her head. "I have an entire closet of clothes, you know."

"I don't think a leopard silk shirt would be appropriate for the occasion, Rosalie," I rolled my eyes. "But thank you for the offer."

Rosalie scoffed, flipping a long section of her impossibly blonde hair over her shoulder. Turning to grab her pretzels and leave my room, she cast me one last look. "Fine, Bella. But when you show up wearing your grandmother's knit sweater, don't say I didn't tell you so."

As my door closed with a soft click, I turned my attention back to the stain on the blouse. At this point, I had one of two options. I could wear this clean shirt and hope that Nathan wouldn't notice the blotch marring the material near the bottom. Or, I could wear a cardigan that my grandmother actually did give me for Christmas two years ago.

Sighing, I turned to the closet, pulling the stained shirt off as I went. Grandmotherly sweater, here I come.

xxx

"You're breaking up with me?"

His head hung slightly and he stared down at the pasta plate in front of him, his eyes avoiding mine. "I'm sorry," He mumbled, shrugging lightly. "I just feel like our relationship is going nowhere."

I leaned back in my chair, my eyes not leaving him, the anger in me building up in a frightening manner. No. Oh no. This wasn't happening, it wasn't.

"How precious, Nathan," I said after a moment, sneering at him. "Breaking up on our one year anniversary, how perfect." I paused for a moment, inhaling deeply through my nose, and had the incredible urge to spew word vomit at the boy situated across from me. Keep it down keep it down keep it down. "Did you plan this out, hmm? Did you think it would be perfect timing to fuck me over on our half year?"

"I'm sorry."

"No- no, don't you dare say that," I snapped, my voice rising. "Say anything but you're sorry."

"Bella…" He sighed, trailing off, and looked up then. His eyes were wavering slightly as he stared at me, "You… you deserve better than me. I mean that."

I'd heard enough of him at this point, and stood from my seat, chucking the napkin into my plate of untouched chicken penne. "It's fine," I announced coldly, "I was going to do this eventually, so I should be thanking you for saving me the trouble."

He opened his mouth to speak, but I was already well on my way out of the restaurant, storming past the hostess with rage flowing through my veins, intoxicating me. Shoving the door open and stepping outside into the cool night air, I realized I needed to clear my head before I did anything irrational. Taking long strides, I followed the uneven sidewalk into a back alley, which wrapped around to an empty parking lot.

I stopped and sat on the curb, my legs stretched in front of me, my hands balled into fists in my pockets. When my fingers brushed against an object in the right pocket of my jacket, rage once again consumed my entire being. I pulled out the object and dropped it into my lap; it was a small, flat box, a red bow stuck on the top. I opened it, my breathing becoming erratic as my eyes landed on the two small strips of paper laid gently within the tissue paper. Two tickets to a Yankee's game. The seats were amazing – the price, however, was not so helpful on my bank account. I'd waited in the rain for these tickets. Underneath them was tucked a small piece of paper.

Happy one year! I love you.

God, I was a fucking moron.

My fingers closed around the box in a tight grip, turning my knuckles white, and before I could help myself, I had stood up quickly and chucked the object as far and as fast as I could. I was breathing heavier now, a sense of relief washing through me, and I smiled maliciously to myself. That felt good, I decided. Yes, very good. I brushed my hands on the tops of my legs and began to walk back towards the main street, empowerment pulsating through me, but I hadn't gotten very far because a voice broke my thoughts.

"Excuse me."

I stopped in my tracks and turned slowly to see a figure standing in the back parking lot where I'd just been. It was a male. He was tall, draped in dark colored clothing, and had a heavy wool coat on over his lean frame. As he stepped closer towards me, his face became clearer under the street lamp. His hair was a dark, brassy color, and slightly messy despite it short cut. His mouth was full and pretty and his eyes, which stared murderously at me, were a bright hazel color. As my eyes trailed down his body, I saw the flat box I'd just chucked minutes ago in his hand.

"Is this yours?" He asked, waving the box slightly. His voice was deep and surprisingly calm considering the enraged expression etched across his face.

"Yes," I replied coolly. "Why?"

A smirk tugged at his lips. He turned to look behind him, motioning to something with his head. "Do you see that car?" I looked behind him to see a sleek, black car parked maybe one hundred feet behind him. I nodded and he let out a quiet laugh, "That is mine."

I rolled my eyes, "Good for you."

His eyes darkened and he raised the box again, waving it in front of me. "This is yours, that car is mine. This…" He paused for a moment to thrust it towards me, "Hit my car."

I scoffed. "What are you talking about?"

"Come here," He demanded, walking swiftly towards the black Audi. I followed begrudgingly, wondering why the hell I wasn't running off at this point. He stopped at the side of the car and motioned down with a long finger. "Look, right there. See?"

I leaned down, squinting my eyes at the area he was pointing to, observing quietly. My eyes scanned the area before I straightened again. "No, I don't see anything."

He sneered, giving me a glimpse of his white teeth. "Look closer."

I sighed, leaning down again, studying the surface of the car for a second time. This time, my eyes caught sight of what he was referring to – a tiny, barely visible scratch. "That?" I pointed at the tiny mark. "That's nothing, it's a scratch."

"This dented my car," He spat, looking down at the box in his hand before his gaze landed on me again. "Do you have any idea how expensive this car is?"

"I don't really care," I replied dryly. "Look, I've had a shitty night, I'm not in the mood to be standing in a back parking lot staring at your car, okay?"

"You damaged my property," He hissed, stepping forward. "You must pay collateral."

"I must what?" My mouth opened slightly in awe before I shook my head, "No. No, no. I'm walking away now. Because that- " I paused to point down at the small scratch. "Is nothing."

He raised a hand to his chin, staring down pensively at the side of the vehicle. His long fingers stroked absently at his chin while he nodded in contemplation. "I would estimate at least three thousand dollars in collateral."

"What?!" I practically shouted, taking a step backward, my eyes wide in bewilderment. "What are you on?! That can't be more than a hundred bucks!"

"So," He smirked after a moment, glancing at me. "Will you pay in cash? Or should we contact the insurance companies?"

"I can't afford that," I sneered. "I'm a college student, for God's sake, I can barely afford a week's worth of groceries."

"By the looks of things-" he paused to open the box, his eyebrows rising. "Yankees tickets. Box seats…" he nodded in an assumed impressed manner. "…You don't seem too poor to me."

"Listen, asshole," I snapped, and his eyes widened at this. "I'm not paying you shit. I'm leaving now because I am this close to punching something, and your face is mighty close, if you understand what I'm saying…"

"Threatening me now?" He hissed again. "My lawyer will have a field day with this one."

"Fuck you."

"Sexual harassment, too?" He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, a sly smile grazing his full lips. "Oh, sweetheart, keep going."

Before he had the chance to continue with his snarky comments, I turned on my heel and took off running, the wind blowing through my frazzled hair and tickling the bare skin of my arms. I ignored his shouts from behind me as my legs pumped furiously. I ran five or six blocks, eventually making it to a drugstore around the corner from my apartment.

I was huffing frantically at this point, feeling the adrenaline pumping through me. I felt victorious, remembering the shocked look on the face of the tall man in the dark suit in the back alley as I took off running. I decided it was time to celebrate, and stepped inside of the drugstore, making my way towards the dairy section. Oh, yes, a pint of mint chocolate chip would soothe everything. I grabbed the carton from the freezer and made my way to the front, a smile plastered on my face. Nathan might have dumped me in front of the entire restaurant on our one year, and I might have blown three hundred bucks on stupid baseball game tickets for him, but I had just outsmarted a prick in an alley and I felt great.

"That'll be three twenty-two," The man at the register informed me as he slid the carton into a plastic bag. With a smile, I reached into my jacket for my wallet, fishing around inside. My eyebrows furrowed together as I searched one pocket, then the other. My smile died within moments, then, upon the realization that my wallet was nowhere to be found.

Oh, shit.

And that was how my day quickly transpired to be the absolute worst day of my life.

xxx

thoughts? i'd love to hear them! thank you for reading!