Title of Story:The Sigma Chi Road Halloween Party

Rating:M

Pairing: B/E

Genre: Romance/Comedy

Word Count:3,596

Story Summary: Judging a book by its cover is never a great idea. But for some reason, Bella kept repeating that mistake year after year.

The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

Freshman Year

Halloween.

The bane of my existence. Just an excuse for assholes to dress up like different assholes in order to get shit-faced.

Me? I'm perfectly capable of getting shit-faced in my Nirvana t-shirt and jeans. Yet, here I am at the Annual Nightmare on Sigma Chi Road Halloween Party wearing my dad's old high school football jersey along with some sticky, black shit that Alice rubbed beneath my eyes.

If that's not bad enough, some dickweed just strolled into the room wearing the most fucking perverted costume I've ever seen. What is it about this holiday that triggers the offensive gene in the male species? As I try to figure out what in the hell he's supposed to be, he catches my eye.

Oh, fuck!

Dickweed thinks I'm into him, and he's headed my way.

Don't make eye contact.

I inspect my nails; the manicure Alice insisted on giving me last week is peeling and cracked. That's why I don't fuss with this shit; too much maintenance.

"Hey."

I know it's him. Damn. His voice sounds like honey. I continue to stare at my fingernails. "Go away."

Instead, he flops beside me on the sofa; the fucking blow-up doll that's attached to his crotch rubs against my legs. I gag as I think about where said doll has been and curse myself for wearing my favorite jeans. Now, they'll need to be fumigated as soon as I get back to my dorm.

I take a sip of my nasty-ass beer to wash the taste of bile from my mouth. I can feel the weight of his stare as I do.

"So, are you a football player?" He gulps his drink and wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand.

Is he fucking serious?

"What gave it away?" I roll my eyes. Unable to resist my curiosity, I ask, "And what in the hell are you supposed to be?"

I watch as he stands and pulls a pair of plastic vampire teeth from his pocket. After placing them in his mouth, he whips his black silk cape dramatically over his shoulder.

Fuck me. Dickweed is hot. He has sculpted cheekbones, the greenest eyes I think I've ever seen, and heaven help me, his jaw. Dear Lord, the things I could do to that jaw.

As if he can read my mind, Dickweed's mouth curves into a smirk.

I mentally wipe the drool from my bottom lip and pull myself together. "I get the Dracula reference. What I don't understand is your inflatable girlfriend there." I gesture to the doll.

"It's simple. See." He grabs the back of the doll's head and grinds it into his junk. "She's down for the Count."

And just like that ... Dickweed isn't as attractive anymore.

All right, who am I kidding, he's still a fucking god, but I have standards, people! I'm not here to become a college statistic … A poster girl for chlamydia.

"Wow," I droll. "Your parents must be so proud."

He sits back down and adjusts his body, so he's facing me. I take another drink of beer and ignore his gaze, keeping my attention focused on anything but him. Afraid that with the slightest glance, I might once again fall under the spell of his pretty.

"What's your name? Mine's Edward. Edward Cullen."

"Well, I'm not interested, Edward. Edward Cullen. You might as well move right along. This girl is definitely not going down for the Count."

He barks out a laugh. "You're funny. I like you." After taking another gulp of beer, he says, "I'm going to get another, do you want one?"

I shake my head no, and as soon as he leaves for the kegs, I make my escape, tripping over a pumpkin as I go.

Sophomore Year

Go ahead; call me a glutton for punishment, but my stupid ass is once again at the Nightmare on Sigma Chi Road Halloween Party. And yes, before you ask, I'm wearing my dad's jersey again. But why wouldn't I? No way I'm spending my hard earned cash at some lame Halloween pop-up store when I have more important things to buy like Twizzlers and Cheetos.

Anyway, who in the fuck remembers something as trivial as what costume someone else wore the previous year?

"Hey, it's Football Girl!"

Well, there you have it, folks.

Dickweed remembers.

Fuck! That sexy, ass voice of his!

Seriously, my panties and I don't need this tonight.

No matter how hard I try to convince myself not to look, my traitorous eyes zoom straight to his location. Thankfully, all I can see is the top of his reddish, brown head as he makes his way through the crowd.

Yet, somehow, it's enough. My pulse quickens, and The Notorious V.A.G.begins laying down a

beat in his honor.

Thump ... Thump… Thumpity… Thump.

I need to get out of here while I still can.

Dammit, feet move! I plead silently as I stare at my worn Chuck Taylors. But they don't listen and remain cemented in place.

Just as I'm considering using my arms to physically lift my legs from the floor, he's at my side. His scent fills my nostrils. Oh, God. So good. His smell is pure male. Earthy, like a mix of leather and vanilla. There's a third aroma I can't quite place, but the more I sniff, the more I think it might be … mustard?

When I finally dare to look at him I know I'm correct because the bright yellow condiment is smeared all over the right corner of his mouth.

"You're here," he smiles. "It's me. Edward." He points to his chest. "Edward Cullen."

Instead of responding, I continue to gawk at his mouth. Once I spotted the mustard, my gaze naturally wandered to his lips. His full, sensuous lips that I currently want to suck and chew.

"Football Girl?"

A set of fingers snap in front of my face. I'm shaken from my lust-filled stupor and met by his amused grin.

"Hi."

"Umm, hey." I gesture to the corner of my mouth and say, "You have a little …"

He takes the back of his hand and wipes at his lips. "Did I get it all?"

I shake my head. "Just a tiny bit more." Even though I want to offer to lick the rest off for him, I remain silent.

"I had a hot dog before I came. My costume gave me a craving." He explains as he wipes off the last of the condiment.

I furrow my brow. What's he talking about? I look to see what he's wearing.

Holy Shit.

Somehow, Dickweed found a costume even more disgusting than last year's. He's some kind of lewd hot dog vendor. He's wearing a red apron with the slogan, Delicious Dick's: Taste Our Footlongs!

Watching me, he says, "Wait! You haven't even seen the best part!" He lifts the bottom half of his apron, and a huge, stuffed hot dog pops out from underneath.

My mouth is agape at the spectacle. "Where in the fuck do you shop? Perverts "R" Us?"

"No, I got it on Amazon."

I do an internal facepalm.

"You disappeared on me last year." He frowns. "I searched for over an hour, but I couldn't find you."

"Yeah, sorry about that." Think of an excuse, I tell myself. "Well, you see, I had to … I had to … take a dump."

Fuck my life! What did I just say?

Instead of getting grossed out like a normal human being, Dickweed just shrugs. "That makes sense." He reaches over and takes a lock of my hair between his fingers. As he softly strokes it, he says, "So, are you going to tell me your name?"

His molten gaze is locked with mine, and I feel myself becoming quickly bewitched by his pretty.

Mayday! Mayday!

Knowing I'm only moments away from making a decision I'll more than likely regret in the morning, I blurt, "I can't sleep with you!"

His hand falls from my hair, and he looks at me with a puzzled expression. "What are you talking about, Football Girl?"

"I … you …"

God! What is it about this perverted costume wearing Dickweed that gets me all tangled up inside?

I run my palm across my face, and say the first thing I can think of, "I'm Amish, Edward. Edward Cullen. I need to go now. I have to get up early in the morning to milk the chickens."

Then, I flee from the frat house. Leaving an astonished Dickweed in my wake.

Junior Year

I know what you're thinking. There's no way in hell Bella Swan's at The Sigma Chi Road Halloween Party this year. Surely, she wouldn't show her face after making such a huge ass of herself at the last one.

Well, if you are, you would be both right and wrong. Because I am here, but no one will ever know. Because get this, I'm incognito. Yeah, that's right. I'm not wearing my dad's jersey this year.

I know, I know. I'm shocked as well.

It's true; I wasted an entire thirty minutes of my life this afternoon making a costume. Yes! Thirty minutes that I could have spent doing something productive like taking a nap or flossing my teeth. But it was worth it because this costume makes me totally inconspicuous. No one will know who in the fuck I am the entire night!

Go me!

So I'm sitting in a comfortable chair, people watching, when all of a sudden, I feel the little hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. After setting my beer down on the table beside me, I turn and look around the room. And that's when I see him.

Dickweed.

Afraid he will spot me, I burrow in my chair. Then… it hits me; I'm wearing my costume! He won't recognize me! Confidently, I straighten and take advantage of my camouflage.

I tilt my sunglasses so I can get a better look at him.

Fuck, if that boy doesn't improve with age! He's like a damn bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. I involuntarily lick my lips. What I wouldn't give to slurp him up like a big glass of wine, but we've gone through this, people. I have standards, and unfortunately, Dickweed is some type of frat boy creep.

It looks like this year's costume theme is a group effort. He's with six other guys, and they are dressed as a gang of flamboyant firemen or the characters from the movie Magic Mike.

I frown when I see that Dickweed's abs are concealed by his jacket. Instead of lying on the floor and throwing a tantrum, I behave like an adult and savor the sight of his angelic face and fuckhot hair. So pretty. My head falls back against the soft cushion of the sofa, and I close my eyes. I imagine running my fingers through his messy locks while we watch reruns of Game of Thrones and eat cookie dough ice cream straight from the carton.

A goofy grin forms on my face when my thoughts soon evolve into a fantasy involving Dickweed, Tyrion Lannister, and a fire ladder. I become so lost in my musings that I don't even notice when someone sits next to me.

"Football Girl? Is that you?"

Startled, I yelp. "Save my kitty!" I open my eyes and find Dickweed staring at me. His eyes filled with mirth.

"What happened to your kitty?" he manages to ask between chuckles.

"I … I … I … wait. How did you know it was me?"

"Why wouldn't I? Why aren't you wearing a costume?"

My mouth opens and closes like a fish. "But I am wearing one!" I gesture to my hoodie and aviators. "I'm the Unabomber!"

"The what?"

"The Unabomber. You know, Ted Kaczynski?"

"You dressed up like a terrorist?"

Hmm, I obviously didn't think this through. "Yeah, I guess." I shrug.

He slaps his hand on the sofa and laughs. "You really are something. So, what is the Amish community's stance on terrorism? Is it acceptable unlike sex?"

My cheeks flood. Shit. Dickweed doesn't forget anything. "I'm not Amish," I mumble.

"You're not? Damn." He smiles. "And I was so looking forward to learning more about the milking of hens." He takes off his jacket, and I immediately become overheated. His abs are flawless. When my eyes see the thin line of hair trailing from his navel to his pants, I think I might combust. I raise my arms and give each of my pits a quick fanning.

"What are you doing?"

I ignore his question and ask my own. "Did you lose your financial aid?"

"Huh?"

I gesture to his get-up. "Forced to work at The Hard Cock Cafein order to stay in school?"

"What? No! This is only a costume!"

I sigh and exhale. "I know. Listen, I say stupid shit when I get nervous, okay?"

His cocky grin disappears. His brow furrows. "Why would you be nervous around me?"

I release a bitter laugh. "Hello. Have you looked in the mirror lately, Sexy Pants?"

"Sexy Pants?" The smirk returns.

"Sexy Pants ... Stud Muffin ... Casanova … Adonis …" I wave my hand in the air. "All of the above."

He shakes his head. "You're ridiculous. I'm just me. Edward. Edward—"

"Cullen … I know."

"And that's why you run away every time I try to talk to you?"

"Part of the reason … listen, I'm not like most girls."

His laugh is deep and rich. "I've figured that out by now, believe me."

"No, I mean, I'm not here looking for a quick hook-up. Especially with someone like …" I don't finish my sentence.

A grimace forms on his beautiful face. "Someone like me? Is that what you are saying?"

I gulp and look away.

"Oh, I see. You think you know everything about me."

"Ed …"

"Why wouldn't you?" He huffs, as he yanks on his hair. "We've spoken … what, twice?"

I hate being called out on my shit. Tears well up in my eyes. "Well, what do you expect? Out of all the costumes in the world, you always choose to dress like some sex-crazed lunatic. I know your type."

Hurt flashes in his eyes. "Well, if you've already figured me out, I won't waste any more of your time." He stands and walks away.

A Month Later

Have you ever wondered if it was possible for a person to feel like a complete ass for an entire month? Well, the answer is an astounding yes. Because after Edward Cullen left me sitting alone on that sofa in the Sigma Chi House on Halloween, I had a realization.

I was the Dickweed - not Edward Cullen.

Me.

And not just a mere Dickweed either. The Grandmaster of all Dickweeds.

I mean, who was I to judge some poor guy for his tasteless costume choices when I was walking around disguised as a deranged serial killer? Not cool, Swan.

And on top of that, I called him a sex-crazed lunatic? Come on. I'm pretty sure we all know by now who the horny MOFO in this story is … and it ain't Edward Cullen.

So, after some serious soul-searching, I decided to make a few changes in my life. My first plan was to rid myself of all the toxins that were poisoning my body. So I gave up junk food. Yes, that meant no more Cheetos or Twizzlers. I fed my body only nutritious, whole foods such as kale and quinoa. Unfortunately, this new way of eating lasted for only around three and a half hours. But because I'm no quitter, I joined a gym next, signing up for a kickboxing class. I figured it would be a way for me to alleviate some of my pent up frustration and stress, you know, making me a calmer, friendlier version of myself. Well, that didn't work either. My gym membership was revoked after I somehow kicked my instructor in the head, and he ended up in the hospital with a concussion.

I was feeling really down about the situation one day and told my roommate about it. She suggested that I just apologize to Edward.

Huh.

An apology. I hadn't considered that. So after looking online, I came up with what I thought was a pretty genius idea. Even though it involved a trip to the thrift store, which was super grody, I hoped in the end, it would be worth it.

So, that brings us to today, and me to the Sigma Chi Fraternity House's door.

After I knock three times, the door finally opens, and a guy stares blankly at me for at least ten seconds before saying, "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, is Dick … I mean Edward Cullen around?" I silently berate myself. Edward is not the Dickweed; I am. Old habits die hard.

"Uh, I'll check," he answers. "Do you want to wait inside?"

"Whatever." I walk into the foyer.

"Is there a dance tonight that I'm not aware of?"

"How the hell would I know?" I scoff. "I don't go to that kind of shit."

"Right … well, let me see if I can find Cullen."

I stand and wait patiently or as patiently as possible for me. After a few moments, the huge staircase with its long-winding banister proves to be too much of a temptation, and I find myself jotting up the steps. I'm mid-slide when I hear his voice.

"Football Girl?"

After making it to the bottom, I jump down. "Hey."

His eyebrows raise in question. "Hey. What are you doing here?"

"Can't you tell?" I gesture to my outfit.

He looks me over from head to toe. "Is there a dance tonight or something?"

"No! Someone else asked me that, too." I frown. "I know it's not Halloween, but I'm dressed up just for you."

He looks even more confused.

I sigh. Why doesn't he get it? "I'm a formal apology! See, I'm wearing a formal gown …" I do a twirl. The bright pink, chiffon dress floats in the air.

He grins. "Oh, okay. I get the formal part. It's the apology that I'm missing …"

I smack my forehead. "I forgot! I'm sorry for being a Dickweed to you."

He chokes on a laugh. "That's a pretty accurate description. You were a … Dickweed."

"Yeah, and I might have also had a few impure thoughts about you as well."

He places his hand on his chest and gasps. "Impure thoughts?"

"Yeah, truth be told, I can be one sick puppy. And don't even get me started on The Notorious V.A.G."

His eyes popped. "The Notorious what?"

"Umm, never mind. Do you think you can forgive me?"

"Hmm. I think that can be arranged under one condition."

"Sure! Name it."

"Go out on a date with me."

Just as I'm getting ready to answer him, he places his finger against my lips, stopping me from responding.

"But before you agree, just know this, I'm not going to sleep with you." He winks.

Senior Year

Really? Do you even have to ask? I think you know me well enough by now to know I'm at The Sigma Chi Road Halloween Party.

No, I'm not wearing my dad's football jersey or dressed as the Unabomber.

Bella Swan has evolved, motherfuckers. I am wearing an actual costume from an actual store.

And you know what, it's not that horrible. In fact, Halloween, in general, isn't as terrible as I always made it out to be.

The main reason for that just walked through the door wearing one of the most depraved outfits I've ever seen. As soon as he spots me, he smiles and heads in my direction.

"There you are, Football Girl." He leans down and slowly kisses me before dragging his tongue down my bare neck.

"Your antlers are poking me." I playfully swat at his chest.

"What about my ginormous deer dick? Is it poking you?" He juts his crotch in my direction.

I giggle at the huge fur stuffed penis covering his junk.

And yes, I giggled. I do that now, okay? You would, too, if Edward Cullen was your boyfriend. That shit makes a person deliriously happy.

"Well, I'm used to your ginormous dick poking me."

"So how does it feel dressing up like a sex-crazed lunatic with me this year?" He wiggles his eyebrows.

I gaze down at the skintight dress I am wearing. It resembles a highway. On each of my breasts is a plastic headlight. "Well, technically, you're the pervy one, not me. I mean, you're the deer caught in my headlights."

"Can you blame me? They're one spectacular set of headlights." He stares at my tits as he encloses me in his arms.

"I can't believe this is our last, Sigma Chi Road Halloween Party. Just think, this time next year, we'll have jobs. When we celebrate Halloween, we'll have to dress up in some cliché couple's costume like bacon and eggs, or even worse, as a lame celebrity couple like Britney and Justin."

His soft voice whispers in my ear, "Football Girl, as long as we're together, it won't matter what we're wearing. If I'm with you, everything will be perfect in my world. "

I melt at his words. As I press my mouth against his, The Notorious V.A.G. begins the familiar rhythm of her favorite slow jam.

The End