Things they forgot to tell you about College

Summary: Bella Swan is a Fresher at The University of Washington and has an inexperienced view of student life. Follow Bella and she embarks on her first year at U-dub and suffers through annoying fire alarms, killer nine am lectures and pushy panty-wetting Fresher Reps, who soon show her that not all lessons are learnt within lectures theatres. There are a lot of things Bella Swan didn't know about college…

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, if I did there would be no fade to blacks…

Chapter One

Lesson No.1: ' You will no longer be thankful that fire alarms are here to protect you.'

Bella POV

He grips me by the waist and slides my body up the shower tiles until he is positioned directly beneath me. I can feel his hard cock straining against me and I bite my lip in anticipation.

"I've been waiting to do this for so long, baby."

Is that your wand Harry, or are you just pleased to see me?

He is nipping my neck and whispering dirty things in my ear, whilst I try – and find success in – grinding down on his very impressive package. His muscles strain with the effort to pin me against the shower tiles, under the heavy pressure of the water and I lean forward towards his very lick-able torso, unable to stop myself.

I nip and lick, sucking my way over his chest. Before reaching forward to roughly thrust my fingers through his hair. I smile as his heavy breathing catches in my ear.

"I think we have a winner here."

He groans in appreciation, nodding softly and I can't help but smirk at the sounds I am pulling from him.

I teasingly duck down, ghosting my lips across his.

"Wrap your legs around me," he pants, the excitement and anticipation evident in his tone. I teasingly rub my thigh against his straining fuck-hot package.

I feel naughty, like I'm defiling Hogwarts Golden Boy.

Wait. I am.

Arousal rushes through me as his mouth captures mine, almost possessively.

He swallows down my answering groan at the heightened friction now between us and his mouth begins to move steadily down my neck, creating a new torturous path.

"Like this?"

I nod, jutting my chest out towards him.

"Please," I beg.

I can't take his teasing much longer.

His eyes dart to my lips. His tongue flicking out to gather the water that is gathered there.

"Not yet baby," he chuckles, dropping his lips lower and creating a tortuous path up my stomach. He slowly presses kisses against the valley of my breasts, purposefully avoiding the three specific places I want his lips right now.

"Gaaah, please," I beg, grasping his locks between my fingers and pulling his face back towards my breasts.

"Up… Get up!"

What?

"Wake up, Fresher's!"

I jerk suddenly and open my eyes. My legs are tangled within the bed sheets and my body is sweating.

I lean forward, attempting to reach the light on the bedside table. Evidently I overcompensate for my stupidly tiny bed.

Fuck.

Good morning to you too, floor.

"We have Master Keys to your rooms and were not afraid to use them!" Calls the voice again.

Fuck me.

I had been really looking forward to moving to Seattle to study at the University of Washington. Granted, I hadn't moved across country – but it was still three and a half hours away from Charlie.

Three and a half hours away from parental supervision, school night curfews, washing Charlie's grundies and being woken up at stupid o'clock.

So why the puck is someone banging on my door and interrupting my awesomely hot action, with one of Britain's most bankable actors?

Bankable and wankable.

Another bang echoes from outside my door.

Shit is that a chain of keys?

"Last chance!" The voice bellows into the silence.

I huff in annoyance, glaring at the door and then back at the bed. I can't decide which one I hate more.

The incessant caller who is now yelling out threats in the dormitory corridor. Or my new – and not so awesome – twin bed and causer of my not-so-attractive face plant.

I mean whose idea was it to come into the dormitory at seven am and wake everyone up anyway? I thought students were meant to go to sleep when its light and wake up when its dark? Or schedule their classes around sleeping habits and Soap Operas?

But then again, this bed isn't exactly user friendly.

I mean how am I supposed to Star Fish successfully in that thing, let alone experience some magic within it; if I can't even turn over without face planting on the floor?

The voices begin whispering outside in the corridor and I find myself crawling closer towards the door.

There's a round of laughter. All the voices are male and my cheeks flush. It's a sad, sad day when you get turned on by the sound of a male voice.

I clench my teeth together. I really am starting to loose it.

Outside in the corridor, another voice speaks up.

The little fuckers are plotting.

"Fine, you're leaving us with no other choice…don't say we didn't warn you."

My new position at the door makes it much clearer to hear the voice this time and my eyes widen in surprise. It is much clearer; smoother and melodic sounding than before.

Like pure sex to my ears.

Maybe it is possible to get turned on by the sound of a mans voice?

I stand up leaning my ear against the thick wood, praying for the voice to float through the door again.

Please. Just let the sexy-voice speak again.

But what comes through the door is not a voice.

Shit.

They've set the fire alarms off.

What am I supposed to do? Go outside? Face my morning 'Terrorists'?

I don't think so.

This has all the makings of some gruesome horror story. I can just imagine it now.

'Fire Alarm calls girl to her death.'

Pretty ironic huh?

I move towards the window and open the curtains, cringing as the light invades the small space.

Okay. Maybe it is light outside, but it still doesn't compensate for their rude behavior.

A door suddenly bangs open, and I run back towards the door to listen through the noise of the fire alarm.

At least I have a pro-active housemate, willing to take one for the team.

The alarm screams and wails and I'm surprised I can hear the voice through the noise.

Well, until she screeches that is.

"I can't believe you set the fire alarm off you selfish, ignorant…JERKS! How dare you come into MY dormitory and wake ME up. Do you have any idea who you are dealing with?"

My hopes of it being a big burly bloke are shattered.

Though she makes a valid point, I still have to cover my mouth with my hand.

I don't know how she can stand to hear herself talk. It's giving me a headache already and she's only just started talking.

I take some deep breaths to control my breathing, before leaning back to the door to listen to the reply.

"Ahhh, mess up your beauty sleep did we?"

Oh no he didn't.

I cover my mouth once more. I'm hardly surprised when 'The Screecher' has another hissy fit.

She sounds like a right bag of fun.

I arrived at the University stupidly late last night – thanks to having to follow my dad's cop car in convoy. I swear he did that shit on purpose. He drove stupidly slow and glared at me from his mirror when I tried to urge him on a little from behind.

That definitely didn't go down too well. He pulled me over – his own daughter – and did his whole cop act on me. So by the time we finally reached the campus, none of my dorm-mates were anywhere to be seen.

The sound of high fiving echoes around the corridor "We did warn you!" Calls a new voice. It is Southern and deep.

My mum always says you can learn a lot about someone's voice. If someone's lying or nervous, confident or shy.

I know housemate number one is a screecher. So that would probably make her a screecher in bed right? I cringe as soon as I think it.

I seriously hope not because that is going to be mentally scarring.

I begin to wonder about the others. Will it be a mixed dormitory? Will there be any fitties? Am I going to have to suffer a year of hell, or will I find a bff – and get to buy stupidly awesome friendship bracelets or necklaces?

I'm so stuck on debating the pro's and cons of said necklaces/bracelets that I miss another door opening.

A different voice speaks up this time and I find myself leaning further into the door.

The new voice is low and laced with venom and I push my ear closer to the door, excitedly anticipating the reply.

"I'm sorry babe…we just - "

"- Did you just babe me?"

"I erm…" Replies the male voice. Only it's not sounding so confident anymore.

I instantly think that housemate number two must be amazingly good-looking, or naked. Or both.

Whilst the men's voices oozed confidence, their laughter once boisterous and infuriating; is gone. Now they are quite and stunned.

"What's wrong? Cat got you're tongue?" She asks again.

I definitely like the sound of housemate number two. She feisty and aggressive.

A definite heart breaker.

Another door opens and I press my cheek back to the door. "What is going on out here? And for heavens sake…would you shut that damn thing up?"

"I can't take it any longer," adds 'The Screecher'.

It figures she'd put the spotlight back on herself.

I smooth down the t-shirt and shorts, I wore to bed. I probably look all kinds of yuck, but at least my voice doesn't screech.

I quickly unlock my door. I can feel every set of eyes fall upon me as I step out into the corridor. I drop my head in embarrassment, knowing that I am currently the victim of a starefest.

I quickly stalk towards the buzzing object, which is causing all of this hassle. Ironically, its pretty tiny in comparison to the amount of havoc it's caused.

Though I stumble momentarily on a football, which lies in the middle of the corridor, I quickly catch myself and grab it in the process.

It is going to have a date with a pin, very soon.

Glancing around, I quickly realize how flawed my plan is. I'm not very tall and I don't have a pole at hand. Nor do I particularly want to begin the hunt for one, especially with all these eyes watching me. Waiting for me to do something. Or rather – make a mistake.

You know that saying – you could hear a pin drop? I suddenly realize the feeling.

I eye up the football in my hand, it could work…I suppose. Or my plan could bite me in the ass and the football could potentially smash back down into my face.

Either way, I have no other option at this point, so I throw it up into the air and luckily for me – and my nose – the buzzing instantly stops and the dorm falls into silence.

I guess that's going to come out of my deposit, but at this point I don't particularly care.

I turn, my face already beginning to burn in embarrassment and glance around awkwardly.

I'm greeted with a mixture of shocked, amused and grateful faces.

"So… I'm Bella," I begin, turning to those who are hanging out of the doorframes first. I figure they are, after all my housemates. Plus I'm purposely avoiding the gaze of the men who I know are standing at the far end of the corridor.

The stupid – dream cock blocking, 'Terrorists'.

I'm tugging at my top, trying to pull it lower because I suddenly realize what I'm wearing.

But it doesn't really matter. I'm instantly knocked to the side, by a small pixie figure whizzing towards me and I cant help but drop the football in surprise.

It goes hurtling down the corridor and I secretly hope it hits 'The Screecher' on its journey.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you" the ball of energy repeats, bouncing up and down on her toes. You'd think this would give a person more height, but evidently she was born to be small.

A little shortie.

"No problem" I shrug. Though to me, it was a pretty fucking huge deal. I had to contemplate reconstructive face surgery because that ball could have done a lot of damage.

Well, maybe I am exaggerating but still. I didn't see anyone else coming to the rescue.

She keeps smiling up at me and I begin to regret being so blasé.

She's acting like I defeated Voldemort or something.

I wish…

"Yeah, thanks for that Bella."

I turn around, and the 'I take no prisoners' sounding housemate is exactly how I imagined. Tall and toned, blonde and beautiful. She gives me a brief hug and I reckon there's loads of lesleybeans worldwide wanting to punch me right now.

Hell yes, I touched the pretty lady…I might not wash for a week.

"I'm Rosalie," she speaks up again. "And that little thing," she motions down towards the girl still gripping my arms – with her eyes, before rolling them – "is Alice."

I laugh and its surprisingly natural sounding. I don't snort, or grunt. I sound pretty normal. Nice, in fact.

I glance around the corridor again, trying to hunt out 'The Screecher'. Match a face to that voice.

My eyes fall on the petite blonde. She'd be pretty looking if her face wasn't so soured. I smile at her, hoping to give her the benefit of the doubt – well kind of. But she doesn't change her position within the doorframe. And nor does my original perception of her.

She's a definite air head/ wannabee beauty queen/ Mean Girl.

"Lauren," she adds before turning around and closing the door.

"It was my pleasure," I reply. Its pretty obvious I'm being sarcastic and apparently someone else catches it too.

A deep chuckle in the background, reminds me that 'The Terrorists' are still in the building and I raise my eyes over towards the noise.

There, standing at the end of the corridor and running the escapee football up and down his muscular arms, stands the most amazing man to ever walk the earth. From his bronze tousled bed hair, to his sparkling green eyes, right down to his chiseled jaw line and pouty lips. He is perfection.

I suddenly wonder if these shorts hide wet patches.

If there was ever a time to regret what I had worn to bed, it is now.

I follow his smoldering gaze to where it is fixed upon my chest.

I want to tell him to quit that shit. But my nipples are clearly enjoying the attention.

Traitors.

They are clearly standing to attention through my pajama top and if that isn't embarrassing enough, I am wearing my Harry Potter "I solemnly swear I am up to no good" Marauders Map top too, which I customized.

Who'd know I would regret slicing the material straight across my stomach? Though it wasn't like I'd ever planned on whipping it out mid snog fest. I wouldn't have anticipated wearing in front of three stupidly handsome men.

To be fair though, I suppose it is pretty tame, if worn with pajama bottoms.

If only I'd gone with that route, rather than my pair of barely their shorts.

Barely there being the operative word.

Could this morning get any worse?

"Nice skills," he comments, and his voice is just like pure honey.

Pure honey I want to eat.

"Yeah, well… when needs must." I counter, looking up to see the remains of the fire alarm hanging from the ceiling.

"We were only having some fun," adds one of the other boys. He is tall, brunette and broad. And by broad I mean fucking stoked.

His muscles are protruding from – well, everywhere – and I don't know where to fix my gaze, without feeling perverted.

I look away, hoping that he thinks its because I'm annoyed, rather than getting turned on by all these hot bodies.

Just wait… I will get payback, oh Muscley One.

"Yeah, were sorry," adds the third guy.

He is reaching around scratching his neck in a gesture that is apologetic. His eyes motion towards the beefy one, "It was Emmett's idea, and well… Its pretty hard to stop him when he's get his mind set to do something."

"Pussy," whispers Rosalie from behind me and Alice steps forward and punches her.

I reckon that beast landed Rosalie a proper dead arm.

I can't make my mind up if it's because of the language, or whom the language is directed at specifically.

"What? I was just saying…" she shrugs, trying to inconspicuously shake out her arm.

I guess Alice packs a mean punch.

Alice cuts her off, "Rose be nice."

Her voice is all-sweet like butter and I'm pretty sure she's trying to fuck that blonde with her eyes.

I turn around to remind them, the reason we are in this position is because of these stupid guys, but Rosalie has started the eye mating ritual too with Mr. Muscle.

What the fuck?

There is no point. The girls are clearly Team Terrorists.

I roll my eyes and Sex God snickers quietly.

"So anyway," he begins, his voice just oozing charisma. "We actually came to get you girls to come to induction. We're your Fresher Reps and you all have places to be and people to see. We're at your personal service all of this week. If there's anything you need to know, or see, or do." His voice purrs the last suggestion and I definitely need to retreat and change my panties.

Retreat, retreat!

"Just let us – or me – know." He adds.

My knees wobble and I wonder if he does this to every girl. "But for know, how about we introduce ourselves over breakfast?"

Did I just hear that? Did Mr. Sex God just invite me to breakfast?

Lauren speaks up immediately and I wonder when she decided to come back and join the conversation. Obviously she screeches her quick yes and I smile when I see Sex God grate his teeth too

I turn around, ignoring Lauren completely and shrug my shoulders at Alice and Rosalie.

They both nod in agreement and Alice speaks up. "Give us five minutes? Just to get ourselves sorted?"

She makes no effort to hide the fact that she was directing her question to the blonde, quietly leaning against the far corner. At least she was polite enough to stop eye fucking him for the moment.

"Okay, well meet you outside." He replies nodding his head in her direction and Alice's face lights up like the Blackpool illuminations.

She's in deep.

Before they leave, my gaze suddenly catches on what they are wearing. Their t-shirts are all matching blue with U-dub Fresher Reps "pleased to help your every need..." printed across their chests.

I gawk at their muscles clearly evident through the material. Where have these three men come from?

Heaven?

Oh right yeah, the heaven of 'Terrorists'...

Sex God catches me staring and smirks. Oh what I would give to suck that smirk right off his face.

He nods at us all before they begin to turn around in quite discussion.

Just before the door closes, my eyes are drawn again to their backs. But my attention is focused not upon their muscles this time; but the names, or well – nicknames – printed boldly on the upper quarter of their shirts.

Bear Grylls, Southern Comfort and Spirit Fingers.

Before the door clicks shut, Spirit Fingers pops his head back round the corner, his eyes sparkling and I instantly stop in my tracks.

"Mischief managed," he says, winking in my direction before closing the door behind him once again.

If only he knew….

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