Hello, my name is Edward Cullen. I am a 23 year old webpage designer and have no friends outside of my brother Emmett, my sister Alice and her boyfriend Jasper. The reason mainly being that we had just moved I recently became friends with Bella Swan, abstract artist and part time dog walker. She is funny, intelligent, has a quirky sense of humor and is the most beautiful woman I have ever met. Did I mention that I think I might be in love with her? Oh, and that she thinks I'm as flaming as the surface of the sun?

Yeah. Welcome to my life.

Chapter 1

"Mmm mmm, baby could bounce a goddamn silver dollar off that ass. Come to papa." I snapped my fingers dramatically for effect at the "hunk of burnin love" that walked by as Bella, my "BFF", laughed her ass off.

"God Edward, you are such a pig sometimes."

"Bitch please, like you weren't thinking the same thing. You can't hide anything from me, sweetheart." We were people watching in the food court of the local mall, taking a break between stores to rest our feet and jesus christ, if one more bag got added to this mountain sitting next to us, my arms were going to fall off. Looking down at the designer labels, however, reminded me of the first time I met Bella and I couldn't help but chuckle to myself.

"Eh," she replied, bringing me out of my musings, as she eyed Mr. Hotness. "Not really my type."

"Oh shut up. If it's human has a dick and breathes, it's your type." She raised her eyebrow and mock-glared at me.

"I would hit you right now, but you would probably turn and scream 'HATE CRIME!' just to be dramatic."

"And don't you forget it, whore. Now, back to why the sex-on-a-stick that just walked by is not your type? Because if you aren't willing to, ahem, get acquainted, then get the hell out of my way." She laughed again, snorting through her nose. She gestured vaguely in the direction that the guy had disappeared.

"He's just. Too. Much. Too much. Just too much." It was my turn to laugh.

"And would you care to explain what 'Too. Much. Just too much' actually means?" I asked in my best impression of Paris Hilton.

"Well did you see him? I mean, he is clearly either addicted to the gym, which means he is probably an arrogant dick. Or he is popping some seriously illegal steroids, has a small dick, and is liable to rip my goddamn head off in a drug induced rage for laughing at said small dick."

"Oh now, make no mistake darling. It ain't the size that counts. It's how you use it. And those muscles would come in handy if you needed to tear down a wall. Or maybe be thrown into one. There was this one man I used to date, and oh was he all man. He used to…" I started to say, but she cut me off with a shriek, covering her ears.

"Oh god! Stop right there! I don't want to hear about your sexual conquests. It saddens me that such a fine male specimen as yourself is dipping his wick in the wrong wax! It is such a waste of raw sexuality that, were you not gay, I could totally put to good use." Aha, see. Now here's the real kicker, because the truth is. I'm not gay. And the fact that she thinks I am, even if it is my fault, is seriously killing my mojo. But what is a fake gay guy to do?

A/N – This idea of "Gayward" just popped into my head the other night and all the scenarios that were going through my head seriously made me laugh my ass off so I figured why not see how it goes. I don't know if I am going to continue it or not yet, I guess that kind of depends on you guys and what you think so pass it along to your friends and let me know!

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