Forbidden Fruit

We're gonna have to see how this turns out for me. I'm doing it through wordpad since my Microsoft Word trial is over and my computer is acting up like a little pain in my rather large rear.

This fic was inspired when I was watching the new ABC Family show Pretty Little Liars. I happened to see the appeal of a certain storyline. If anyone is familiar with the show, you'll pick up which one. I hope you enjoy the story.

I do not own Twilight or anything else in here that is obviously not mine and I mean no offense etc etc. I just like to use them for my own twisted view of fun. Enjoy.

Oh and (not that I think anybody would) buttttttttttttttt... All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the respective author. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization. And said author would be me.

Chapter One:

"Bella." the sing song voice nagged, as my mattress sank under the slight weight put onto it. "Wake up, darling."

Shut up.

Oh, how I wish I could actually utter those words out loud! But even in my extremely hungover state, I knew that wasn't a good idea to tell my mother.

Esme Cullen - doctor Carliles's perfectly coiffed wife. My mother had a low tolerance for things not being perfect. She had the perfect husband, the perfect home, and at least one perfect child.

Said child was not me.

"Bella, come on. Wake up. I'm leaving to go get your sister from the airport. She's bringing her fiance home." I felt her stand from the bed and rolled over with a slight groan, cracking my eyes open before closing them against the bright sun. Maybe those last five shots of vodka had been a bad idea after all.

Esme sighed in obvious annoyance, "Were you drinking?"

I frowned, sitting up, the white silk sheets of my bed pooling in my lap. Why was my mom so fucking annoying? Could she not just go get the God damn fucking Golden Child from the airport and just leave me alone with my pounding head?

"Mom." I groaned, rolling out of bed, my feet hitting the plush carpet of my bedroom floor, "I just graduated from high school yesterday as valedictorian. Of course I've been drinking." I muttered, walking to the bathroom and frowning at the mirror. Holy shit! What was staring back at me was a fucking hot mess.

Normally, I am a fairly attractive girl. But the smeared lipstick and the raccoon eyes were a no go. But the rats nest currently taking up residence in my hair had to be the first thing to go. I grabbed the brush from the vanity and began brushing my hair out slowly, the tangles making me wince.

"Do you not even care?" Esme questioned.

I turned away from the mirror, still brushing the mess that was trying to pass as my hair and faced her again, rolling my eyes. Only Esme would wear Oscar de La Renta to pick up someone from the damn airport.

"About what?" I asked, focusing on not losing what little I had in my stomach and really pissing her off. I had a feeling puking on her pumps would fall under the 'not perfect' category.

"Rosalie coming home! You haven't seen her since the summer before last. She's your sister." she reminded me as if I had somehow forgotten.

But that was the thing about Rosalie. I doubt that anybody who had stumbled across her path had forgotten her. She was gorgeous with long wavy blonde hair, a figure most girls starve themselves for, and blue eyes that just seemed to cut through you. She tended to take after our father in looks. And who could forget her brains? She was an early graduate, accepted into one of the top three colleges in the country, Yale. And how could one forget the year she took off to spend time in Africa to help with cleaning water?

She was perfect, indeed.

And while she was my sister and I loved her, she was still my enemy, my competition.

I wasn't exactly a slouch here. I had graduated the top of the class, and much like my sister, I was headed to Yale in the fall. I volunteered at the homeless shelter and the battered woman's shelter. I maintained several after-school clubs and committees, including but not limited to French Club, Latin, Future Business Leaders of America, the yearbook, and the newspaper.

Of course I had gone drinking the night before, what sane person wouldn't? Who wouldn't want to celebrate the freedom from most of that shit?

But while her interests were in politics and sociology, I was going down a route that my parents couldn't quite understand. Literature. They couldn't fathom why I didn't want to change the world and run for office like "darling Rose."

Rosalie Lillian Cullen. I was compared to her in every conceivable way since the day I was born. Was I going to make the world weep with my beauty? No. Would I crawl early like she did? Negative. And would I turn the world on its ear from day one of University, astounding everyone with my charm, wit, and brains? Probably not.

"And she's bringing home her darling fiance. He's studying to be a doctor, just like your father, you know." she crowed like the proud little mother hen she was.

I didn't even attempt to hide my eye roll this time. "Yes, mom. I do believe that you may have mentioned that several times. Including last night at my grad dinner. Thanks for that by the way," I said, turning around and slamming the brush back down on the vanity, annoyance coursing through me.

"Do not pout, Isabella Cullen." she sniffed, looking in the mirror, fluffing her caramel colored curls and flicking an imaginary piece of dust off of her suit, "Your sister has made many accomplishments that I like to brag about, but so do you. And I do." she turned to face me, though I kept my profile to her, glaring in the mirror. She grasped my chin in her perfectly lotioned hands and turned my head to face her. I had the urge to close my eyes in petulance but the more mature side of me won out. Her brown eyes flicked over my face and she smiled. "I love you." she let go of me and stepped back, heading out of the bathroom and towards the bedroom door. "I'm going to send Lucy up to clean your room, it's a mess. And take a shower. You reek of vodka. And don't forget to wash your face, you look awful."

"Thanks, mother." I called sarcastically, sighing loudly and slamming the door to the bathroom shut. It wasn't enough to effectively shut her out.

"Don't slam the doors, Isabella Marie. I expect you to be perfectly presentable for this boy and your sister. I will not have you embarrassing her or us."

I turned on heel and opened up the glass door to the shower, turning on the heat full force. The water hitting the bottom of the marble was effective enough. It dulled her down to a faint mumbling that I could barely hear. I sighed, trying to let some of the agitation that was boiling in my chest release.

All I had heard about since fucking April was Rosalie and her god damn fiance, future Doctor Edward Fucking Masen. I hadn't met the guy yet, as the one time she had brought him home last summer I was conveniently in Italy with my best friend Alice Brandon. I may or may not have waited to know when my sister was due home before I let Alice know I would go with her and our other friends, Angela, Jessica, and Lauren.

The five of us had been friends since middle school. They knew exactly how I felt about my sister and the way she felt about me. See, it would be one thing if Rosalie at least pretended to be oblivious to her perfectness. But that wasn't the case. She goaded me with it, held it above me and taunted. Her snide little comments were one of the main reasons I tended to stay away when she was due in town. It was hard enough working to grow out of the shadow that you were cast in. I didn't need to hear that I was failing at it.

But I was told that any international trips were a no go this year since this was the year that "your darling sister is getting married." I had to stay and meet the damn moron who was fucking dumb enough to want to marry that stuck up bitch.

I almost felt bad for the guy.

Almost.

I had seen a few pictures of him and Rosalie that mom had practically shoved in my face the moment I came home from Italy last summer. It was very much, "Darling, the plane didn't crash while you were on it! Here, look at your sister's lovely boyfriend."

He was attractive, very much so in fact. He had these amazing green eyes, like the best damn Christmas tree color, that green that kinda sucks you in and this very wild bronze-ish hair. No doubt Rosalie had also perfected the Kama Sutra and that's why he had that damned sex hair.

Look wise, he was the opposite of Rose's high school boyfriend, Emmett McCartney. Emmett was fucking massive; attractive in his own way and such a goofball. Rose had dumped him shortly after they had both graduated, stating that he just wasn't focused enough for her. And she had agreed to marry this Edward guy. Fucker had to be just as fucking "driven" (it's the word my dad likes to use for his over achiever golden child) as Rose. Which meant I was going to want nothing to do with his ass. Except to maybe touch his hair. His hair did look pretty awesome.

I stripped off my jeans - that I had apparently no desire to strip out of last night - and threw my blue shirt across the bathroom and onto the white marble counter top of the vanity. I gingerly stepped into the shower, hissing in pain as the practically scalding water hit my skin. I hurriedly grabbed the water knob and twisted some cold water into the mix, relaxing as the water went to a bit below melting-skin-off-bone hot. I grabbed the ridiculously expensive shampoo from Japan, of all places, and squirted the gel into my hands before lathering it into the former birds nest. I supposed I couldn't judge my mother too harshly for flying in the expensive hair product since it did make my hair feel like silk in a matter of moments.

Next, I grabbed the shower gel - strawberry scented, of course - and lathered my body with the white loffa hanging on the shower head. There was something that always has fascinated me about the pink against the white. I think the vibrancy of the one color against the blandness of the other just did something for me.

As I was rinsing off, the door to my bathroom slammed open and made a thud against the wall. I jumped, covering my breasts with my arm and clearing a space off of the fog covered glass. I jumped back when a very familiar pair of blue eyes stared back at me, too close for my comfort.

"Holy fucking shit," I screeched loudly, letting my arm drop, "Ever heard of knocking, pixie?"

Alice just laughed and grabbed the blue towel off of the hook on the wall, and handed out to me as I shut off the water.

"Have I ever knocked?" she questioned, walking backwards and hopping onto the counter of the vanity.

I racked my brains, "I think there was that one time in seventh grade."

"I simply didn't know any better at the time." she shrugged, "I have rectified that mistake."

Of the five of us, Alice and I were definitely the most close. In fact, it was originally the two of us before we met Angela, and then picked up Lauren and then Jessica. We had all bonded rather quickly, finding the most insane things in common. Like our love for Oreos and peanut butter. Together. Best damn thing in the world. Almost better than sex.

Almost.

"Obviously," I scoffed, wrapping the towel around me and stepping out of the shower, water streaming down my neck and back as I hadn't bothered wringing out my hair of the water. I glanced in the mirror and rolled my eyes for the third time since I had woken up. I still looked like a raccoon. Only now, I looked like a drowned raccoon.

"Oh, lovely eye make up, Bells." Alice giggled, dropping from the counter and landing on her feet in a fluid motion.

Graceful bitch.

But that was Alice. Graceful and lovely. She had porcelain features, really. She didn't need a stitch of make-up, yet she wore it anyway. She ate atrociously but had a tiny dancer's body that never seemed to gain an ounce. She was petite and elegant. Why she didn't have a boyfriend, I didn't know. Or rather, yes, I did actually know.

She was holding out for her brother's best friend, Jasper Whitlock. He was cute in a farmer kind of way, I supposed. And very polite. She could do worse.

I simply gave her the finger and walked into my bedroom where I saw Jessica lying on my bed going through the latest Cosmo for tips on "How To Blow Him Better" and Lauren going through my closet, looking through my bathing suits. Angela was lounging on the floor, her eyes closed, possibly feeling even more hungover than I was.

"What are you guys even doing here?" I asked, dropping the towel, while walking over to my dresser and opening the top drawer. We were completely past modesty by this point in our relationship. I pulled out a pair of green boyshort underwear and was reaching for a bra when something hit me in the back.

"We decided in honor of your sister coming home that we're going to have a swimming party." Lauren said when I turned and picked up the black bathing suit that she had thrown at me.

I looked at each of the girls and finally registered that they were wearing their swimming attire. Short shorts, and tight tops that barely covered their actual swim suits.

I sighed, tempted but not wanting to completely piss of my mom. My dad wouldn't be in town to protect me until tomorrow as he was in Seattle for some sort of medical conference or whatever. I told them as much.

"Come on," Jessica urged, tucking a lock of brown hair behind her ear. "You're completely stressing over having to see Rosalie The Perfect again."

"At least get in the hot tub for a bit." Alice said "They aren't even due back for another hour or two. Let's hot tub and then we'll get out of your hair." She stuck her index finger out and stuck it out for me to meet with my own. "Pixie Promise." I rolled my eyes and smirked, touching fingers with her.

Back in freshman year, I had told Alice my biggest secret at the time, about my crush on Mike Newton (my taste has since improved). She had giggled and made jokes about telling Jessica and Lauren. I began freaking out and had stuck my finger in her face telling her in no uncertain terms that if she told anybody she would turn up (quote) "A dead ass pixie." She had jabbed my fingertip with hers and had said "Pixie Promise." It had been our thing ever since.

I was hungover and a dip in the hot tub did sound appealing.

I conceded and slipped into the black bikini, glancing in the full length mirror for a second. Not bad. I was no Rosalie with curves that just wouldn't quit, but I was slim and toned. The black of the bikini went well with giving my skin a subtle glow. Props for being pale.

I grabbed a towel out of my closet and the five of us made our way down the stairs of the Cullen Mansion and down into the foyer. We walked into the kitchen, and Alice went ahead and opened the sliding door that led to the wooden patio and pool. I paused as the others went out the door and grabbed some water. First rule of hangovers: dehydration rectification.

I made my way outside and set the towels on the tiki bar, keeping the waters in hand. The backyard may have been my favorite area of the entire property. It was closed off from any potentially nosy neighbors with huge stone walls that were made to look pretty, by being hidden by miniature palm trees and plants. The whole place just felt like an oasis, right down to the pool house to the left that, sometimes, hid tequila for me and my friends.

I smirked at the fact that Jessica and Lauren were already in the hot tub with the water churning, while Alice and Angela were laying out in two of the cushioned lawn chairs that we had. I set a cold bottle of water on Angela's stomach, becoming a little concerned that she hadn't said anything since I had seen her.

"Thanks." she mumbled, peeking at me with her green eyes, before closing them again.

I sat on the edge of her chair by her feet, picking them up and placing them in my lap completely unconcerned. I know that a lot of people have a problem with touching people's feet or people touching their feet, but it has never bothered me in the slightest. "On a scale of one to ten, how fucking hung over are you right now?"

"Fucking ten." she muttered, taking a tentative sip of the water before closing the cap and sitting it on the cement ground beside her. "I am never fucking drinking again."

"Liar." Alice laughed, "But you were pretty out of it last night. You both were."

"Yeah yeah." I muttered. "Let's get in the damn hot tub."

Angela moaned and grumbled about how she didn't want to move, until both Alice and I grabbed a hand and hauled her ass off of the chair. We made our way up the steps. We had a kidney shaped pool that started out shallow and moved deeper and deeper until it hit eight feet. There was a circular raised hot tub in the middle, making it possible to jump out of the hot tub at any time and jump into the refreshing cool salt waters of the pool.

The five of us were scattered around the inside of the hot tub with our heads lounging against the cement, tilted towards the sun for the better part of an hour, before I decided that I was ready to jump into the pool.

"I'm gonna swim. Anybody else?" I questioned, standing and perching on the edge of the circular ledge, the warm water sliding down my body and landing in little puddles at my feet.

They all let out negative answers so I simply dived in. I loved the feeling of jumping from the almost too intense heat into the cooler water. It was like a shock or a jolt to my entire system. I swam to the edge of the pool on the deep side, before coming up for air. I pushed the hair out of my face before turning my back to the edge and diving back under. I simply loved swimming and being underwater. It was all peaceful. In the water I didn't have any problems. It seemed that I didn't have any time to just be, anymore. My whole life was trying to overachieve, to try to catch up to something, someone, who I may never be able to catch up to. But, in that moment, I could forget all of that.

I swam in the pool back and forth, shallow to deep, deep to shallow, over and over, just relaxing, tiring my body out. I had already swum out any extra aggression that I was holding towards my sister, her fiance, and my mother. I was trying to predict what time it was, while swimming a final lap into the deep end, remaining underwater. I decided that it was probably time to send the girls home so that I could go get ready to meet the guest. I broke into the surface, my hair luckily staying out of my eyes so I could open them.

I came face to face with two pairs of shoes. Two of a man, and two of a woman. My eyes slowly slid up from shoes, to pants, to torso's, to chests and, finally, to faces.

Holy fuck.

It was my sister and her fiance.

Her fiance who apparently didn't photograph too well if he came off as merely attractive. He was...panty dropping. Utterly and completely ovary exploding.

I think I was madly in lust with this man.

He smiled at me, crouching down, and sticking out his hand.

"Hi, I'm Edward Masen. Bella, right?"

So, there's chapter one. I appreciate constructive criticism, I find it helps a lot.

Much love,

Heather