Crazy, a twilight fanfic

Summary: A chaotic story about a preposterous marriage, a neon green tie, drunk strangers, a schizophrenic, crappy food, throwing knives, infidelity, and overuse of the word 'crazy'. One-shot, crack-fic. Rated M, because it's Vampiregirl93

Please, please do not read this if you're: under 18, sensitive to topics related to mental health issues (I say this as a precaution), can't handle an abundant use of the word 'fuck', which, why the fuck would you care?

Oh, and I do have a blog now. moving on up... you can follow me at sydney993 . tumblr .com

Story song: Cold Shoulder by Adele

For B… it's okay to still love Crazy :)

Bella

There's a brief moment of pure content that warms my insides and makes my face flush with the significance of finally understanding that everything is almost—so close—to being right in my life. It clouds my mind and doesn't allow me to think; it makes me deliriously happy and I feel whole, impenetrable and untouchable.

My sense of completion becomes full circle when the Best friend shows up to my engagement party, and all of my initial panic is ebbed away and pushed into a box somewhere to the back of my mind.

Everyone's seated and eating when I have my little revelation. Best friend is on my left side, and Adulterer is on my right.

My mind is placating me: Wait for it, Bella. Wait for him to say the words, so all of this can be over.

Fingers tangle in mine, lips press against my ear. Breathy, heavy, and wrong whispers into my ear. "You happy, baby?"

The soulmate on my left scoffs, and Cheater on my right tucks my hair behind my ear.

I shiver. I turn, a small smile answering him as he ducks his head down to kiss me.

Nothing can ruin my plan: I'm going to—

"Hey, turd nugget, you have clam sauce on your dress," Edward says.

Except that.

I snap my head to Edward, best friend and closest confidant, and drift my eyes down at his wrinkled suit and knotted neon green tie.

I scoff at him. "Who the fuck wears a neon tie to an engagement party? We're celebrating love, not rolling at a rave."

"Baby," Peter whispers in my ear, fingers trailing over my right arm in what is supposed to be a soothing gesture. I swallow down the vomit bubbling in my throat. "Let it go."

I relax visibly, but hold a playful scowl on Edward as I take a long drink from my red wine.

The corner of his lips twitch as he looks straight ahead. He knows if he looks at me, he'll bust out laughing, and I made him promise to be on his best behavior for this party as soon as I saw him come in; no matter how much it truly is bogus.

Peter's parents can barely handle me. They think I'm a lunatic, and that my family—Cullen's included—are out of line and unstable. We're too loud, we're too rambunctious, and anything but debonair in their presence. They tolerate me. They don't tolerate Edward, the psych-patient.

A part of me believes Edward likes the hospital more than he does his own home. He has friends there—the crazy but cool kind that I'm inevitably drawn to each time he brings them around. The last person he brought around was at the Cullen's Fourth of July Barbecue. Her name was Makenna, and I fell in love with her at first sight. The friend love, I'm not gay. She had a small scar above her upper lip and two left brow piercings, and an entire story of kinky fuckery behind them.

Edward is mildly bipolar. Edward befriends full-blown schizophrenics.

Makenna and I are best friends these days. She doesn't fuck Edward anymore, but we're like a crazy trio when we all get together.

Unfortunately, Kenna's not here with us tonight. It would have been nice if she were, because maybe Edward would keep himself in check with her here to keep us all on our toes. And I could really use her right now, because Edward looks like he's about to bring up the story of us popping ecstasy at a rave three summers ago, and he's barley holding it inside of him.

I kind of hope that he does. I mean, maybe that will lead to—

"Edward," On my right, Peter clears his throat to catch Best friend's attention. Edward gives him a wary look.

He hates Peter.

I hate Peter, too.

"Who's um… you're friend?"

Edward leans back, smiling proudly, to expose the small girl on his left to us. Small girl has knotted brown hair, an endless smile on her face, and a dress that seems to be about four sizes too big on her. It's probably something that Edward stole from Esme's closet, which would explain the dirty looks he's been receiving from his mother all night.

Edward smiles down to the poor girl like she's an adorable kitten he discovered in the alleyway.

And I wonder, if maybe she was in the alleyway?

He isn't even supposed to be here. He's supposed to be at Wilmington for another three days, he told me this on the phone (he wasn't supposed to have) last week, so that I wouldn't be disheartened by his absence tonight.

But my best friend wouldn't miss this for the world, and he certainly wouldn't come without bringing a guest for back-up.

And I wish it was Edward. He wouldn't cheat. He wouldn't lie. But Best friend has been lost.

Best friends are intuitive, and I think Edward probably knows that tonight I'm going to—

"I'm sorry I didn't introduce you earlier, Peter. Angela, this is my best friend Bella," he points to me using only his pinky finger—because apparently that's all I'm good for—and then to Peter. "And that's, like, her fiancée Petey Pablo, or whatever. Guys, this is my second-best Gal-Pal, Angie… or Angela, or whatever. She likes both."

Angie leans over Edward to smile at Peter. In a breathy whisper, she says, "How ya like it daddy?"

Oh my god… I love her.

Across from us, Rose laughs into her hands and tries to cover it with a fake-ass cough. Emmett does the same, only stretching backwards so that he can laugh behind Rose's back. Beside them, my mom and dad are in their own little world, clueless, not paying attention to a thing we say—and everyone else seems mildly amused with Angie's antics.

Peter bites my earlobe and I squirm uncomfortably, but laugh nevertheless. He puts his lips to my ear. "Did he steal her from the mental institution?"

I elbow him in the gut, frowning at supposed husband-to-be. "Don't," I snicker, turning back to Edward and Angie.

Angie smiles tentatively, but she's not looking at me. She's not looking at any of us. She's in her own little world, and I'm right there with her.

I think I like Angela.

Edward extends a hand over to tap her shoulder with his pinky—why does he keep using his pinky for everything? "You okay?"

She nods, turning to smile at me and Peter again. "This is such a lovely restaurant."

I smile at her.

"Thank you," Peter answers proudly, glad that someone is here to feed his ever-inflating ego. "My parents own it."

"Oh," her eyes go wide, and for a moment, so brief, I see some crazy flicker in her eyes. "It's lovely. Really beautiful. Like a palace. It's magical."

Beside me, I can feel Peter's scowl burning a hole through my head.

I ignore him, pulling another sip from my red. I let it linger in my mouth for a moment before swallowing it in slow, careful gulps. Edward winks at me and I smile at him, but I'm curious about Angela.

Where the fuck did she come from?

"So," I clear my throat. "Where did you meet Edward, Angie?"

Edward turns his head slowly. "We're not here to talk about Angie and I—we're celebrating you're engagement tonight, Bella." He goes from jerk, to sweet, to the needing-an-exorcist-head-spinning in .2 seconds.

I shrug, forking some linguine and clam sauce. I shove it in my mouth and swallow it regretfully.

It's awful.

I chase it with some wine.

"I'm with Bella on this," Rose has one sarcastic brow quirked, waving a finger between Edward and Angela. "We already know everything there is to know about Peter and Bella—they're old news."

"Thanks Rose," Peter says dryly.

I smile.

No one's going to break my bubble. Not until he says the words—that unfaithful motherfucker.

I may have smoked some pot before I came in here, too.

"We met at Wilmington." Edward says through his teeth, giving Rose a pointed look.

"Wilmington?" Sonny, Peter's father, speaks up.

Peter lies for us all, "It's a hotel."

Wilmington Psychiatric Rehabilitation is a hotel?

Normally, people would find it kind of disheartening that Edward had to find a date at a hotel to bring here with him. In real life, Peter's parents would find it atrocious if they really knew he found her at the hospital he was staying at because of his mental-breakdown last month.

Everyone here knows what's up. Except for Peter's parents. What they don't know won't kill them.

"You can say that," Emmett mutters under his breath.

And I bust out laughing.

Because I'm at the most awkward dinner party in all of human history, and my best friend just picked up a girl at the mental institution, and my husband-to-be is a dick, and we're all a little drunk.

I'm pretty drunk, maybe.

I don't think I'm that drunk.

No, I'm pretty drunk.

"Bella," Peter groans.

I straighten my shoulders and tell myself: get your shit together. Wait for it. Wait for it.

"Sorry," I say hastily, ducking my head in remorse.

I find Edward's hand under the table, and hold on for dear life.

"Someone had too much laughing gas," Emmett clicks his tongue in his mouth. "So Sonny, tell me, who the fuck makes this clam sauce?"

I can't help it—I'm on the verge of tears. I have to lean over the table and somehow end up laughing into Edward's lap. He hits my shoulder lightly. He hisses out. "Get your shit together, Bella. You're about to marry the son of a mediocre clam sauce maker."

"Jesus," I gasp for air, halting upwards. I push myself off of Edward's legs and attempt to steady my breathing. I notice someone has taken my wine away.

Good. I don't need more anyway, jerks.

Edward leans in to whisper to me. "You want mine? I can't drink it with my meds."

I grab my empty water glass and put it under the table. "Fill me up."

He does. We're discreet too. The only one who notices is my forever-scowling douchebag fiancée. I smile at him grimly as I sip from my stolen wine.

"You're so fucking cute," he whispers, grasping my chin tightly in his hands before kissing my wine-lips.

I grimace and pull back to eat some more shitty linguine and clam sauce.

Beside me, Edward is sweet-talking the schizophrenic while Rose and Emmett share skeptical—but teasing, of course—looks. Esme and Carlisle are sharing their own worried looks about their son and his dress-stealing girlfriend, while Sonny and Marlo look upon all of us like we're fucking crazy.

Jasper and Alice show up late.

It's totally like them, so half of us aren't even phased.

They have Maggie with them—their disobedient two year old who I conveniently place on my lap. "Hello Maggie-Mags," I squeak, attacking her face with kisses. She slaps her drunk aunt away, giggling up a storm.

Peter scoots away from us, and Edward drags his chair closer to talk to his niece. Beside him, Angela is biting her nails and looking down at the clam with fascination.

I consider asking her to be a bridesmaid just to make it clear that I like her. Hell, maybe she can replace Alice. I bet she wouldn't even show up to the wedding on time anyway. Untimely bitch.

Across from us, one of Peter's work friend's keeps steering glances in my direction. I think her name is Char, but she's been entirely too quiet and I'm starting to find it catty.

I think it's her.

I'm pretty sure that it's her.

I'm almost sure that it's her.

"Sorry I'm late," Alice exasperates a sigh, leaning in to kiss my temple.

"Hey sis," Jasper wraps an arm around me to hug my shoulder loosely and gives Edward a fist pump at my left. "Is that Angela?"

My eyebrows perk. "You know her?"

He nods. "Last time I was visiting Edward at-"

"The hotel," Emmett coughs.

"Right, whatever you call it," Jasper rolls his eyes and goes on. "Angela here had lunch with us. How you doing, girl?"

Angie smiles, her little ears getting red with her blush. "I'm great."

Jasper nods. My brother, the socialite, drapes an arm over her shoulder and levels his face with hers. "Did they straighten out your meds?" he not-so-discreetly whispers.

"We got it covered!" Edward yells over him.

I frown.

This is fucked up. Why does everything have to be so secretive? My friends shouldn't have to hide who they are—or their girlfriends for that matter.

"Right," Jasper smiles, clearly puzzled by his brother-in-law's behavior, and steps around the other guests seating the table to sit by Alice.

"What's that?" Edward asked, leaning into Angela as if she was talking to him. I didn't hear anything… "Bella, Angela says your boobs look bigger. Are you pregnant or just wearing a super bra tonight?"

I punch him in the shoulder. "Dick!" I laugh, too. "It's a push-up bra."

Sonny and Marlo shake their heads in disapproval, and my dad throws a butter knife at me. It hits my shoulder and clinks loudly as it hits the floor. "Ow, asshole!" I say to my father, picking it up to throw it back to him. It barely touches his plate. "You could have hit Maggie. Don't you know you could get thrown in for life for that, cop?"

I set Maggie to the floor, and she runs around the table to her mom. "Pa pa, you could have hit-ted me!" she points her finger in his face. "Ash-hole."

He laughs, but quickly composes himself. He gives Sonny and Marlo a pointed glance and looks back at me. "Language, Bella."

I zip up my mouth, lock it up, and throw away the key.

I love how the kid doesn't get reprehended, but I do.

I unlock my mouth to dust off my wine, while Peter tries to take it away from me. "Don't," I slap his hand away. "I'm thirsty."

Edward cackles, and so does Emmett and Jasper. Pete does too, but it's forced-sounding and merely infuriating with its cattiness.

The women aren't impressed with my behavior. Rose wants to leave, because she knows that this whole occasion is bullshit. Renee is glaring at supposed husband-to-be. Esme is looking at me like she's wondering if I'm actually going through this. Alice is… well, she's a mom; she's oblivious.

"Oh man," Peter mumbles something too low for anyone else to hear.

The room suddenly seems ten degrees warmer.

"I need to go to the restroom," I say abruptly, bucking backwards to push my chair out like the toddler I am. Peter grabs my hand.

"Do you need me to come with you?" his eyes are hopeful.

What the fuck does he expect, a quickie in the bathroom? I don't think so. He either wants to go off on me for not acting like the perfect fiancée, or he wants to fuck.

Like I said, I'm not letting anyone break my bubble.

"I'm positive," I take my hand back and tumble-walk out of VIP area.

Peter's parents' place really is magical. This two story restaurant is fully equipped with a wraparound staircase leading down to a roomful of crowded public waiting tables, dancing customers, and a small bar. The music is light, the people are happy, and the food… well, it sucks. But still, it's nice to look at. The first end, where the bathrooms are, has a cluttered dance floor with old people dancing to slow music about never ending love.

I make a beeline to the bar.

"Bella," Benny, the bartender, beams at me. "Happy engagement, young lady. What can I get you this evening?"

I think for a minute. "I want something strong. Like on a scale of one to ten, give me a twelve. Two twelves."

Girls waiting for their drinks beside me start snickering while Benny occupies himself with mixing my drink. The girl closest to me leans forward, and I get a whiff of the garlic and vodka lingering on her breath. "Who the fuck are you, the queen of England?"

I smile back at them, tapping my fingernails along the bar. "I'm no one. Just lucky enough to mean something to somebody."

"You mean the world to me," I whirl around on my heels and find Edward standing a foot away from me with his hands shoved in his pant pockets and a sad smile on his face. His sparkling jadeite eyes are narrowed, but his grin is teasing. "I know, that was cheesy."

I smile, too. "I missed you."

He steps forward and envelopes me in a warm hug. I sigh against the feel of our bodies pressing together—having missed contact with him so much. I can't deny the spark, the current, the unbreakable chain between us whenever we embrace. I've missed it too much.

One month away from him, and I feel like I've gone crazy… how sad.

He inhales deeply, and I close my eyes while Best friend smells my hair.

He always smells me. He always has. He's fucking crazy like that.

"You smell like lies," he whispers into my neck. "You smell like that perfume you hate, and a man you don't even love."

"Edward," I try to push him away, while my chest tightens and my bubble threatens to pop.

Best friend doesn't relent. He tightens his arms around me until there's no more room for air, no more room for doubt.

"He doesn't even make you laugh, Bella," his voice is rough in my ears, so filled with an emotion I can only distinguish as anger. "He doesn't even make you smile, not for real—you look like Gordon Brown with that forced smile. You should be with someone who wants to make you smile until it hurts…"

I close my eyes, and will myself to believe that this isn't happening right now. At my engagement party, while he's fresh out of the hospital and fucked in the head. He's making it a lot harder to—wait, what did that mean? "Who the hell is Gordon Brown?" I ask.

He shrugs his shoulders. "He was the Prime Minister of UK. Everybody knows that."

"Edward," I plead, trying to pull away. "I'm not going to—"

Best friend doesn't let me finish. His hands are hugging my shoulders, but his arms are steel around me, unmoving. "Don't do this to me, Bella. Don't make me go crazy. I'm hanging in there, but it's all for you. It's always been for you. You're my rock. You're the only thing real in my fucked-up life." His fingers dig into my shoulder blades. "But that guy in there… he's a new level of crazy for you."

I can't help the laugh that bubbles in my throat, and neither can he. He holds me so close, but we're shaking with laughter.

I see a teardrop fall onto his jacket, but I don't realize that it's mine until Edward touches my face and spreads the dampness across my cheek using the pad of his thumb. "See?"

"Edward," I shiver and pull back. "I'm not going to—"

Benny the Bartender doesn't let me finish.

"Bella," I turn around and see Benny holding out my drink for me. I take it with shaky hands and smile back at him. "It's on the house."

"Thank you," my voice cracks.

"Come with me, Bella…" Edward pleads, not waiting until I turn around. His chest presses against my back, his words turn low and rough. "I need you, and I know it's so selfish, but I need you to myself. And it hurts my heart so bad when I see you with him, I feel like I'm dying. Like, when we took those mushrooms senior year and we we're laying on the floor, trying to figure out how to call 911? I feel like that all the time when I think about you marrying that fucktard."

I tilt my drink back against my mouth, while my eyes find the girls' from earlier. She's looking at me with curiosity and disgust, maybe even pity for a moment, but she makes no move to call me out on being a whore at the moment.

"Don't make me kidnap you."

Crazy boy is just kidding. He would never kidnap someone.

But he is nervous, which means he's going out on a limb here.

I shake my head to myself. "Edward, will you just listen to me—"

"I don't care what we do. Anything. Nothing. Whatever you want."

Such a simple answer means the world to me, because it's exactly what I want to hear.

Edward has always been my freedom, until his freedom turned into his insanity. At fifteen, the harsh reality of his life was that people didn't like him because he was a free bird, they liked authority. People enjoy people who are calm and collective, and he was the epitome of a teen rebel living life on the edge. His family became his enemies, and his friends thought he was insane when they realized that he was more of a burden than a companion. He didn't restrict himself to bedtimes and curfews, his attire, his language, and he had friends who lived lifestyles unlike his own.

That phase of his life ended, but it didn't make reality any easier on him.

Or me.

Because he was my light, my heart, my be all, end all.

I miss the boy who would wake me up at four AM on a school night to watch the freight train roll by. I miss the boy who missed school to go to week long concerts I refused to attend. I miss the kid who smoked pot with me for the first time and freaked me out because he swore there were ancient Native Americans hunting Buffalo in his backyard. I miss crazy, and he's standing right behind me.

It's not his fault I'm marrying Peter. But the emptiness in my heart I've felt for the last three years, while he was going insane; that was all my Edward's absence.

I tried to find normality in Peter. And then I realized, normality doesn't exist.

Doesn't Edward know that I'm smarter than—

"I love you Bella," he tells me, taking my drink from my hands. "I love you because you're real, and you giggled at my Uncle Marc's funeral last year, and you have stars in your eyes when people give you ice cream. And I want to fuck you like crazy, but that's okay because me and old Handy have been hanging in there since we we're like fourteen and your boobs filled out."

I step back and turn around to look at him. "Edward—"

"And I can't really give you everything you want," he goes on, looking at the ceiling as he babbles away. "I'm broke as fuck, but my family has money," he shifts and his gaze falls to the floor. "He can give you things that I can't, like an extravagant wedding and a peaceful night of sleep. And I'm sure he probably has a huge dick, because he's probably, like, perfect at everything," he jadeite green eyes find mine, like he's waiting for me to answer.

I grimace.

"It doesn't matter," he waves a dismissive hand. "It's not in how big it is, rather—Nevermind. But I know that I can give you the only thing that matters," he's frowning down at his shoes. "And I know that you're not happy, so I don't see the point in this wedding happening."

He slowly steps away, and I feel my jaw drop.

Don't leave!, my conscious screams at him, while my lungs struggle to find air, let alone words. "E—" it's all I can get out.

"I've said my peace or whatever…" Edward turns abruptly and walks away from me.

"What the hell?" I say to myself. "Can't anyone ever let me finish?"

"Oh, I hate when that happens," Girl behind me says.

My mouth sucks smoke-thick air between my lips, but my lungs can't find it. My mind is reeling with confusion, and my heart feels like it's splitting to two.

I feel like I've just lost my best friend.

I feel like I've just lost my heart.

I feel like I'm losing my mind.

And before I can even comprehend what's going on around me or digest any of this properly, the girl to my left goes, "Who the fuck is this girl?! Is her pussy magical?! Does Gandalf live in your vagina, is that what's going on?"

I look to my left and frown at the girl who called me queen of England. "I'm Bella. Who are you?"

The girl with garlic and cherry vodka breath crosses her arms over her chest and tips her chin to me. "Me?" she snorts. "I'm Jessica motherfucking Sta—"

"Jess," the girl next to her laughs, knocking her knee with her boot. "Shut up. You don't insult the queen of England with the magical pussy then give her your name, dumbass."

I smile.

"I think that guy was just using you to steal your drink," Jessica Motherfucking Sta—points to my empty hands. "But that was some speech."

"Dude, shut up," the girl next to her says, who smells cleaner and more sober. I drift towards her. "He had stars in his eyes. And then he got sad. Why did you break up?" she tugs on my arm, like I'm going to sit down and have a chat with her.

I shake my head at her, opting to stay standing. "We were never together."

She purses her lips thoughtfully, nodding her head like she understands. "Well, how many times did you fuck?"

I roll my eyes. "We didn't—we've been best friends our whole lives."

"Gross," Jessica whoever the fuck says beside her.

"Aw," the girl looks like she's going to cry. Her lower lip starts to tremble, and her eyes get glossy with tears. "Why didn't you ever get together?"

"Are you seriously crying right now? She's a total stranger, Laur—" Laur—whoever the fuck—raises her hand to cut Jessica off.

"I can't believe it, England. You never hooked up, you just, were like, best buds? You love each other, and you're marrying somebody else?"

I frown back at her, feeling slightly bewildered and yet still overwhelmed by my predicament. And what the fuck is it to her? Who is this girl?

I bet Edward paid this bitch off to make sure I cancel this wedding.

It's not necessary.

"I…" I swallow a mouthful of remorse. "I could never keep up with him. Let me explain."

Back at the party with Jessica and Lauren, I'm two times drunker and 100% ready to cancel this—

"Dude, you have clam sauce on your dress," Lauren says, dabbing her thumb wet with her tongue to wipe away at the stain on my left boob.

She's my new homegirl.

Peter is nowhere in sight, but his parents are.

Edward is sitting in his spot next to Angela, though neither of them are immersing in conversation like everyone else. He doesn't look up when I sit down next to him, and he doesn't say anything when I scoot my chair up to his as close as it will go.

I lean in and whisper, "You know, I'd feel more inclined to kiss you if you didn't bring a date to my fucking engagement party. How are we supposed to run off into the sunset with your girlfriend present, Romeo?"

He turns his head slightly and smiles, meeting my eyes. "She's my wing-woman. Right, Ang?"

Angie leans forward to smile so wide, her face looks like it's going to fold in and split in half. "I just want the world to be perfect. It won't be until you and Edward get together."

Is she serious?

"What?" I ask, furrowing my brows. "The world will never be perfect, Angela. Get that through your rattled brain, love. It's a disheartening lie. Half of the world are cheating bastards, and the other half are insane. And you should really come to my parents Christmas party this year, it's on the thirteenth. I'd really love it if you came, you seem like a cool girl. Do you like make-up? I get this discount at Sepho—"

"Bella," Peter says from behind me, sounding winded. "I didn't see you on my way to the bathroom…"

He's never going to tell the truth.

I turn to whisper in Edward's ear: "Leave with me."

He tenses up and searches my eyes, trying to tell if I'm serious.

Peter takes a seat beside me. "Why are you sitting so close to him?"

"Were getting married," Edward answers flatly.

People around us giggle, and I make no move to scoot my chair towards him. "I didn't see you, either, Peter."

Just tell me, you coward. Tell me—

"We'll I was…" he stops when Char comes in. Char's face is slightly flushed under the orange glow of the light above us, her hair still styled yet a little less perfect and a little more tousled than it was before. Her lips are lipstick fresh and her stride seems a little more confident, a little more purposeful.

She looks like she just got fuc—

I tighten my hand around Best friend's.

Husband-to-be takes a drink of his wine and clears his throat, like he's got nothing to be sorry for. He smiles at me and rubs my back. "You want some more?"

I smile back.

"Now you don't have a problem with her drinking?" Edward asks beside me, laughing into his glass of h2o. "Go motherfucking figure."

"Oh!" My new home-girl, 'Jessica Motherfucking Stanley', hollers. My niece mimics her, fist pumping the air as she says "Oh!"

"Where the fuck did she come from?" Emmett asks.

"What was that?" Peter leans over me to get direct his glare at Edward, and I know this moment—what it means. It means the shit is about to hit the fan, is what it means.

Edward furrows his brows. "What? You got a hearing problem, now? Dumb motherfu—"

And then Emmett says, "Shorty fucked his brains out."

And Edward says, "Women aren't stupid, prick."

And while a normal person would think that Emmett was insinuating that Peter and I were gone so long because we were getting freaky in the bathroom, which is probably what he does mean, Charlotte doesn't take it that way. She drops the glass in her hands. "Excuse me?"

I laugh.

I look to Edward, pleading him with my eyes.

He sits up to face me. "Just let me get one hit, Bella. One hit, and we'll leave."

I frown. "Edward, no. Violence isn't the—"

"If you say 'violence isn't the answer' you're a hypocrite and this friendship is over…" he looks away and then back at me. "Just kidding, let's go."

I turn to face my dad. "Dad," I look to Peter. "Peter."

"Yes?" They answer simultaneously.

"I'm sorry, dad… but this wedding isn't happening. I really appreciate all that you've done for me, and I hope we can still be cool after this," I say flatly. "I'll pay you back—I promise."

Charlie can barely contain his smile. "You—"

Peter cuts him off. "Honey," he tugs on my arm, trying to get me to sit down. "You're drunk, you don't know what you're talking about—"

"And I know you've been fucking Charlotte-Harlot over there," I point to her. Harlot's in tears. "And I sincerely hope that you understand that what's going on between us; this isn't love. You don't cheat on people you love. I should have known, too, you suave mother—" I stop short and look down at Maggie. She's coloring on her placemat, doesn't give a fuck.

I inhale deeply, because that whole 3rd person-style speech really took it out of me. I may have subconsciously planned it in my head.

I probably just sounded drunk and stupid.

I grab Edward's hand. "We're leaving. Me, Edward, and Angela," I lean over Edward to talk to Angela. "If you want to leave, Ang. I mean, you can finish your food first. We'll wait."

Rose snorts a laugh, and Angie smiles politely. "No," she hasn't even touched her food. "It was delicious. Thank you all."

"Whoa, what?!" Peter pushes his chair back until it hits the wall, blocking me from leaving. "What, you were fucking Edward, too? This whole time?" He accuses, standing up to tower over me. "You were, weren't you?" He snatches my wrist. "You can't do that, be a hypocrite when you're just as much of a whore—" Peter doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence. His long-life best friend, Jasper, punches him square in the jaw. The blow of the punch is powerful, sending him flailing to the ground at my feet.

"Motherfucker!" Jasper screams, kicking him while he's down.

Sonny advances towards us, but Marlo sticks her hand out and places it against his chest to stop him. I can hear her saying, low and pleading, "Leave it."

Even Peter's parents know he'd deserves a swift kick in the ass.

I tug the engagement ring off of my finger and walk up to Peter, while he's still laying on the ground. Groaning in pain and clutching onto his face, Peter looks up at me through watery lids. "Why did you wait so long to tell me you know? Why even pretend…?"

I tuck the band into the front pocket of his shirt and pat it. "I was curious. How long would it take you to tell the truth? I know the answer, you're a dick. Dicks live to lie. How stupid do you really think I am? Women are perceptive creatures. We smell infidelity, we we're raised to stay away from it."

He shakes his head. "You're sick—you know that?"

"Me?" I point to myself. "You have the balls—the audacity—to call me sick?" I look to Edward and nod. "One, and let's go."

Edward kicks Peter in the nuts, Sonny calls the police, and we all flee from the restaurant.

Crammed in Edward's beat-up and barely-hanging-on Volvo with Lauren in the front with us and Jessica in the back, Edward holds my hand while Angie tries to make small talk with Benny the Bartender through the window. "Call me!" she screams as he pulls away. "My number is 867-5—"

"I really wish you would have told me," Edward says, narrowing his eyes at me. "You knew you weren't going to marry him, and you let me—"

"Edward," I begin, but he cuts me off.

How was I supposed to tell him? He doesn't shut up.

"Like, you just let me go on and on for fifteen minutes. I spilled my heart out in there, and you stomped on it—shit hurt," he rubs his chest, like he's rubbing the pain away. "I fucking love you, girl, and you—" He stops at a light, and I launch myself over the seat to tackle him with my lips.

Edward is stunned by the kiss, but I make it sweet, fast, and meaningful. Taking a fistful of his crazy chocolate bronze hair between my fingers, I pull back with an audible smacking sound and smile. "I always loved you. You're my heart, my best friend. I was just waiting for you to come back… and I really wanted to make a production about Peter cheating on me."

Best friend smiles, and Angie calls from the back: "Hey, before we go back, can go through the drive-thru? That clam shit was disgusting."

AN: Petey Pablo is an American Rapper for the song 'Freek-a-leak' as well as many other smash hits. Gordon Brown is a British politician who was the Prime Minister of the UK from 2007 to 2010; in case you were wondering who Edward was going on about. There was a lot of controversy that Brown has a fake looking, creepy smile. Check it out lol. I know there was some major cliches here, but come on... Benny the Bartender? I love it.