Okay, this is the first story I have ever written that I've put out there for the world to read. I am slightly nervous about what you'll think, but I really hope you'll like it. Please leave me a review to let me know!

The title of this story is from one of my favourite songs by People In Planes. I'm not sure if it has a lot to do with this story, but I think parts of it fit. If you don't know the song, go listen it. (I would also recommend a youtube search for their song "Vampire" - you will be treated to some very nice videos containing a certain British actor, I am sure)

AH, some OOC, future lemons and bad language - you have been warned.

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns everything


Chapter 1: Surfacing

BPOV

A couple were sitting across the room from me, sweetly holding hands and kissing. I couldn't stand to look at them for another second, so I quickly turned my head away.

I looked towards the counter, expecting to see some middle-aged man or woman waiting to buy a coffee on their break. Instead I saw another couple, actually gazing into each other's eyes in a way that seemed to make them oblivious to the poor girl working behind the counter, trying to take their orders.

As I watched, the girls increasingly frustrated "What can I get you?" finally made it through their stupid romantic bubble, and they laughed joyously because they loved each other so much that the outside world apparently disappeared.

In an effort to not look like a crazy person, I repressed the urge to stick my finger in my mouth and make a gagging sound, and settled for a more inconspicuous grimace.

Again, I turned away from the couple, only to find myself starring at another. And then another. My eyes finally settled on a girl who looked about my age, sitting close by – thankfully alone. My relief wasn't long-lived though, as I instantly picked up on her phone conversation: "Ok, I love you. See you soon." Pause. "Are you still there?" She giggled. "No, you hang up first. No, you hang up. You first. No, you hang up!"

What the hell was wrong with this place? If I had know it was this filled with obnoxious people, I would have stayed home and unpacked some more. I picked up my cup of tea and blew on it, watching the surface ripple and the steam rise. As a sip of the hot liquid ran down my throat I expected the familiar warmth to spread through me and give me some much needed calmness.

It didn't. The couples were still there, and no amount of tea in the world would change that. Resigned, I picked up my book and attempted to create my own little bubble, trying to shut everything out.

Unfortunately, the book wasn't as good as I had thought it would be, and it couldn't hold my interest for long. I found myself reading the words without taking them in, too wrapped up in my own thoughts to care.

Stupid couples.

They just reminded me of why I had moved to Forks. Why I had really moved here.

The official reasons were all about how I wanted to give Renee and Phil the opportunity to follow Phil's baseball career, without them worrying about dragging me all over the country, and how it could be good for me to spend some time with Charlie. While I had spent two weeks with him every summer, I felt that we did not have a deep father-daughter relationship – but that could be rectified. Which was what I was doing now.

All these reasons were true, of course. But then there was the secret reason, the one no one knew about.

Paul. The first guy I ever loved, my first boyfriend.

Well, my only boyfriend.

He was also the reason behind my first heartbreak. I had gone home with Jake, one of my best friends, to take a look at his new car. We had walked into his house, only to find Paul making out with Jake's older sister on the couch.

Turns out he loved her. Really loved her.

Her – not me. She was the one he thought about all the time, not me. She was the one he wanted to be with all day, fall asleep with at the end of it. Not me.

It was never really me. He only used me to pass the time while she was travelling abroad for a year.

I always thought that "a broken heart" was just a hyperbole, used in romance novels for nice effect.

When Paul told me how he never really loved me, that it had always been her, I found out that it was not a hyperbole – it was real. A fucking real pain, right across my heart.

In that instant, when he told me how he really felt, every important memory I had of him raced through my mind, intensifying the pain. The first time I had met him, our first date, our first kiss, the first time we 'made love', the first time we said 'I love you' – so many first's with him. And he never cared as much as I did. He didn't value those memories as much as I did. It made me feel so foolish, so unloved. I just couldn't understand why he had done that to me.

And every day, I had to see him walking around the neighbourhood where we both lived. I had to see her coming and going, in and out of his house, every single day. Every single time, a echo of that initial heart break hit me. It was just too much to handle.

I had trusted him, loved him. I had even let him take my virginity, genuinely thinking he loved me just as much as I loved him. Only to find out that I was just "a way to pass the time". Those were his words, part of his half-assed excuse.

Not only did he break my heart, but he humiliated me. He fooled me. He made me feel stupid for not seeing it sooner.

It was when that realisation hit me that the anger came to join all the other feelings in the emotional storm that was my head, resembling a dark, heaving ocean of misery.

I was such a mess – for several months I felt myself being dragged down by everything I felt in my heart, and I feared that if I didn't break away from it somehow, I would drown in the black, stormy waters. I was struggling just below the surface, only managing a quick breath every now and then. Soon I would be too far down to even get that much.

I realised that I needed to get away. I had to escape. I simply could not stay in Phoenix, with all the places and people that reminded me of the times I spent with Paul.

As if too reinforce this, my dad had called just as my realisation of escape hit me. He called to check in, as he did from time to time, and I suddenly knew the solution to one of my problems – I would move to Forks.

The small town of Forks, constantly covered with rain clouds, had been a source of irritation for me every summer when I had been made to go there. I thought of it as a small punishment, Karma if you will, for anything I had done during the year, all combined into those two weeks.

There were a few highlights, yes, like Alice Brandon, my pixie-like childhood friend, and Charlie of course. He was my dad after all, and I loved him. He always seemed so happy when I arrived, and always less so when I left. I knew he missed me, and cherished the weeks we got to spend together.

It made me happy to know that my dad cared so much about me, and I was always a little sad that we weren't as close as we could have been.

Aside from that though, Forks was boring, cold and wet, and a typical small town, where everyone knew everyone.

So it was primarily a punishment, but when I realised what it was offering me – a chance to get the hell away from Paul and everything that reminded me of him, a chance to save myself before I drowned – I saw it as a haven. It was my escape, and I needed it bad.

I wasn't sad about leaving when the plane took off. I was relieved. No more Paul, no more her. I refused to think or say her name. No more pretending I was fine to those that knew what had happened. No one in Forks would know about Paul, and I wouldn't have to see the pity in anyone eye's anymore. Sweet relief filled me.

I had arrived two days ago; it was the middle of spring break, so I had not yet been forced to face school. This also made me relieved.

Alice had not wasted any time. She was there waiting for me at Charlie's house, jumping up and down in her over-excited manner, almost knocking me over as she hugged me. Alice lived quite close, and her parents were friends with Charlie. We had been paired together as children, and formed a strong friendship from the beginning.

Alice had been ecstatic when I told her I was coming, and she had called me almost every day, talking about all the people she was going to introduce me to, and how excited she was that I was coming.

I had met Rosalie, Alice's best friend, yesterday at this very café. The breathtakingly beautiful blonde was kind with a wicked sense of humour.

She was also terrifying and had a mouth like a sailor.

I smiled a little as I though about Alice and Rose. I had had so much fun with them yesterday. It had felt good to laugh genuinely for the first time in a few months, and I began to become slightly more pleased with my decision to move. Maybe I wouldn't drown after all.

I had never had friends like Alice and Rose back in Phoenix. There had been Jake, but he was a guy – it wasn't the same. It had also become a little awkward between us after he told me he had feelings for me. Feelings I could not reciprocate. Paul had messed me up too much for me to even contemplate a new relationship. The fact that I had know Jake since I was four didn't really help either.

Anger flared in me as I thought of Paul and what he had done to me. I had developed some serious trust issues after that. How could I trust anyone like that again, after what he did? I had thought he loved me, but he didn't. I had thought I actually meant something to him, but that wasn't the case.

I was a just a pastime, one of those programmes you watch on TV because there's nothing better on. I was something he did to pass the time – "did" being the operative word. That was all I was to him – a girl he could have sex with while his true love saw the world.

And yet. And yet he had acted as if he truly cared. He had told me he loved me on several occasions. He had introduced me to his parents.

I had trusted that foolishly, and it only gave me a broken heart. How could I trust anyone after that? I knew every guy wasn't the same, and that there were some really nice ones out there, but I had thought Paul had been one of those nice guys, and look where that led me.

I snapped out of my self-induced state of misery with a inwardly groan, as my attention was suddenly drawn back to my book when the words "smouldering", "warm" and "kiss" all appeared in the same sentence. I could not deal with another couple today.

With a frustrated sigh, I slammed the book shut and stuffed it violently into my bag, dumping it on the floor in irritation.

"That's not a very nice way to treat a book," an amused voice suddenly said next to me.

I jumped, startled, and turned to look at the owner of said voice.

What I saw made my chin drop just slightly. A head full of unruly, bronze hair; smooth, quite pale skin, a prominent and strong jaw, slightly dusted with a stubble; full, smiling lips, white gleaming teeth, and the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen – their colour was commonly referred to as green, but that seemed inadequate to fully describe them. Emerald seemed better.

Blood flooded my face as I realised I was staring at him.

"Well, it's its own fault for sucking – it deserved it," I answered him, just a second too late. My blush deepened slightly at my awkward response, but he found it amusing. I earned a warm, deep laugh that made me smile, just because it sounded so happy.

"May I inquire as to what you were actually reading?" A crooked smile appeared on his face, his laugh seemingly dancing in his eyes still.

Had I been watching a movie in which he starred, that look alone would have made me bit my lip, sigh, gasp or all three. Since he was actually real, and sitting in front of me, that sort of response would have been embarrassing. Instead, I smiled back at him, and dug my book back out of my bag.

With an apologetic laugh, I handed it to him. "I really thought it wouldn't be that bad," I explained as he took it from me.

He glanced quickly at the cover, reading the title and the author's name.

"Seriously?" He laughed again, and I blushed deeper as I realised he was making fun of the book, and me for choosing to read it.

Defensively, I tried to take the book back from the breathtakingly handsome stranger with the beautiful laugh sitting next to me. He only laughed harder and moved away from me, holding the book out of my reach.

With dismay, I saw my bookmark sticking out of the top – indicating the place where I had stopped reading because of the words "smouldering", "warm" and "kiss", and probably countless more just like them. Unfortunately, he saw it too, and with a teasing smirk, he opened the book there.

"Can I have my book back please?" I asked him, my voice betraying my annoyance.

He completely ignored me and started reading instead. His eyebrows rose in surprise as he read what I assumed turned into a heavy make-out session between the leading characters, and then he leaned back into his chair and smirked at me again.

Irritation flared in me. Who was he to take my book and then mock me for it, even after I admitted that it sucked?

"My book?" I asked him, flooding my voice with as much aggravation as I could. I held out my hand and waited.

Again, he completely ignored me.

"What's a young woman such as yourself doing, sitting in a public café, reading this kind of thing?" he asked me, mock astonishment in his voice. "It's hardly fit for polite company, you know," he remarked, adding a hint of reproach to his tone.

I glared at him; not an easy thing to do when a more natural reaction would have been to drool.

"As I said, I didn't think it would be that bad. Can you give it to me, please?" I moved my hand closer, impatient now.

Why did he continue to ignore me?

"What was it that upset you? Was it perhaps Jared's 'smouldering eyes' as he looked at Erica before kissing her? Or the way her hands 'seemed to twist into his hair of their own accord'"? A teasing glint entered his emerald eyes as he looked at me.

"I didn't get that far," I muttered. I clenched my teeth as he laughed at me again, louder than before. I made a dive for the book and managed to get my hand on it.

Instead of letting go like a normal person, he simply let me pull the book towards myself, stretching his arm out and leaning closer to me, as if I were pulling him too.

The closer he moved, the more breathtaking he was. I felt my angered expression melting into a slightly dazed one. I tried to get my face back to annoyed.

Suddenly, he smirked at me. "Am I annoying you?"

"How did you guess?" I answered vehemently. I yanked on the book, but he still didn't let go. He laughed at me again, staring into my eyes.

I wished I could look away – it would be easier to stay angry with him if I didn't look into his eyes.

"Could you let go? I actually have to go," I said, giving another tug on my book.

"Why?" he unbelievably asked, as if it were any of his business.

Apparently it was, because I answered him.

"I have to pick up my friend – now let go!" I practically hissed at him. This time he did, and I narrowly avoided knocking my cup over as my arm suddenly flew back.

He started to laugh, but quickly turned it into a cough as I glared at him again.

"I'm sorry," he apologised, not completely succeeding in keeping the amusement out of his voice. His lips quivered in an effort not to laugh at me.

I almost growled at him as I stood up, embarrassed and angry. I threw my book into my bag and made my way between the tables, wanting to get as far away from him as possible.

I made it through the door of the café before he caught up with me. He lightly grabbed my arm for two seconds to make me stop and turn around.

"What?" I demanded. All I wanted to do was hit his overwhelmingly attractive, stupid face.

Now that he wasn't sitting, I saw how tall he was. I had to tilt my head up in order to glare at him properly.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have laughed at you. That was rude." His voice was smooth and finally apologetic. He couldn't keep it up for long. "It's just that you looked so angry, I couldn't help myself," he added, his voice now quivering with suppressed laughter.

A very girly shriek of annoyance forced its way up my throat and through my clenched teeth, pushing him over the edge. He laughed loudly at me, and the old lady that was passing us by shook her head, muttering something about 'noisy teenagers'.

I turned around again, intending to cross the street, but he quickly grabbed my arm and spun me back around, holding up his other hand in an apologetic gesture.

"I really am sorry! I'll stop now, I promise," he laughed, and then his face changed back into a polite smile, no trace of the teasing glint in his eyes.

I considered his expression for a few seconds, and then breathed heavily through my nose.

"Fine. Did you want something, or are you going to let me go?"

"No, I just wanted to apologise, sincerely. Couldn't have you walk away angry, now could I?" he said, the crooked smile replacing his polite one, as he wiggled his eyebrows at me comically.

I was in no mood to laugh.

"Fine, apology accepted. Goodbye," I snapped and then crossed the road.

He followed me. "You're still angry," he observed. No shit, Sherlock.

"I wonder why," I said sarcastically as I quickened my step.

I threw a glance at my watch and saw that I would actually be late to pick up Alice if I didn't hurry. She and Rose were taking me to a party tonight, so that I could meet everyone outside of the schools walls. I was going to pick her up and then drive to Rose's place where we would all get ready together.

A well orchestrated and elaborate plan had fooled our parents into thinking that we were having a girls-night at Rose's place, since her parents were out of town. They had promised to help me with hair, clothes and make-up – I wasn't exactly hopeless when it came to those things, but my knowledge wasn't very extensive either. I didn't mind the help, if you put it that way.

I finally reached my new truck – or rather, old truck, since it had quite a few years on its back – that Charlie had surprised me with when I arrived.

"Can you reasonably be angry at someone when you don't even know their name?" he asked me, stopping when I did.

"Yes," I answered in a clipped tone.

He chuckled softly at that. "Fair enough. Won't you let me introduced myself anyway? It would make me feel a bit better if you at least knew my name."

"Fine, if you go away afterwards," I said, resigned. He didn't seem like the kind of guy who just gave up.

He held out his hand to me. "I'm Jared."

For half a second I believed him, but then I saw the teasing glint in his eyes, and I realised he was just mocking me again. Jared was the name of the male character in my book.

I stopped fishing around my bag for my keys, just starring incredulously at him. Then I growled and turned away.

He laughed at me again. "You should see your face!"

I wanted to hit him so badly, but I finally got hold of my keys, so I climbed into my truck without another word to him.

He stood there while I drove away. I saw him wave at me in my rear-view mirror, still laughing. What an asshole!

... What do you think?

Please, please, please review and let me know if there was something you liked, didn't like etc.

And for all those that don't like long chapters: I apologise, but that's just how I write. Believe me when I say that the first draft of this was much longer. Personally, I love reading long chapters, and I hope a few of you do to.

I have a few chapters already planned out, so if you like it and want to read more (and I really hope you do) let me know, and hopefully I can update soon.