A/N: Hi everyone! Thanks for taking the time to read my very first attempt at writing FF. Hope you enjoy, and see you on the flip side!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All references, names, etc. belong to their proper owners.
Chapter 1 - BPOV
I sat with my legs propped up on the couch, blanket tightly wrapped around my legs and completely covering my feet, laptop warming my stomach. My cat, Ollie, had wedged himself awkwardly between my hip and the back of the couch after I had shoved him off the keyboard about 20 minutes ago. I could feel the rumble against my thigh as he snored softly. I picked up the glass beside me and took a small sip, feeling the room temperature Shiraz slide down the back of my throat.
I wasn't sure when it had happened, but at some point sitting in my living room alone, reading fan fiction with a bottle of wine, had become my favourite way to spend a Friday night...and all day Saturday and Sunday if I could manage it. My last three weekends had been completely taken up with various events, birthday parties and work, so I had begged my friends to allow me my tiny bit of solitude this weekend. It had unfortunately required some bribery on my part, and I now owed Alice a spa day and extra trip to the bridal store to try on bridesmaid dresses. Not my idea of a good time. I had made her promise to have mimosas for breakfast whenever we ended up going. Getting a buzz before lunch made that shit only slightly bearable.
Ollie twitched in his sleep, scaring himself awake before jumping up and madly dashing into the bedroom. He was cute, but he wasn't very bright. I snickered to myself and shifted on the cushions, enjoying finally being able to fully straighten my legs. I turned back to the laptop screen and realized I was completely bored with this story. I had stopped really paying attention about two chapters ago, and I had re-read this paragraph three times. I still had no idea what it said. Maybe it was time to switch back to actual literature. It wasn't like I could admit to anyone that I read these online stories anyway. My general response when anyone asked what I was currently reading was "nothing of any redeeming social value". It was easier than explaining the vampire smut to which I had developed a somewhat unhealthy addiction.
Sighing, I closed the tab in my browser and switched my playlist to a mellow indie rock mix. I leaned back and downed the last of my wine, closing my eyes as the soothing, repetitive beat and lilting guitar riff settled around me.
I jolted awake a few hours later, legs tingling from lack of circulation, Ollie staring at me from the arm of the couch. It was a good thing I had finished my wine before falling asleep because the glass was now laying sideways, rolling slightly on my keyboard every time I inhaled. With a groan, I shut my laptop and slowly sat up. I could tell this was probably not going to be great for my back tomorrow. Ollie looked at me, unblinking, his eyes judging me silently. "Don't look at me like that," I chastised him. "It's not like you look particularly graceful when you sleep." Clearly not agreeing with me, he lifted his leg and began licking himself. "Oh that's attractive," I spat, rolling my eyes.
You realize you're having a conversation with a cat.
Yes, self, thank you for pointing out the obvious. Ollie and I often had chats. And they frequently ended with him licking himself, come to think of it.
Well, how else do you expect him to respond?
I don't know, maybe a little head butt? Or a meow? That didn't seem unreasonable.
Yes, because the cat can clearly understand the concept of a reciprocal conversation.
Well, it's not like he has to know what I'm saying. Couldn't he just show me some affection anyway? I mean I'm the one who feeds him every day and cleans his damn litterbox. That alone should warrant some purrs.
So instead you're having a conversation with the voice inside your head?
Even my psyche judged me. And she was kind of being a bitch. Yeah, maybe it was time to get out of the house.
Saturday morning, I rolled over around 9, having finally crawled into bed at 3:30 in the morning. I had been right, my back was aching and I could feel a slight twinge on the right side where I must have pulled a muscle. Luckily I didn't have to be at the gym for another few days. I mean, sure, I probably should go between now and then but I didn't have another appointment with my trainer until Tuesday evening. And quite honestly, I avoided that place like the plague. The only reason I had been going at all for the past three months was because my exuberant best friend, Alice, was getting married in June. And I'll be damned if I was going to stand up there looking anything less than stellar beside her petite 5'1" self and her other model bridesmaid, Rosalie. And I don't mean "model" as in that oh you're so pretty, you should be a model bullshit. She was a legitimate runway model. She'd only recently returned to Seattle, having spent the last two years touring Europe and Australia on various modeling contracts. Now she was home for at least the next two years while she completed her master's degree at the University of Washington. Because she was also a freaking genius.
I glanced over at the picture on my bedside table of the three of us, taken last summer while Rose was home for a few weeks in between jobs. We'd taken a road trip to visit my dad, Charlie, in Forks, a small town a few hours outside Seattle where I had grown up. It was a rare sunny day amidst the seemingly never ending gloom of the Pacific Northwest, and he had somehow convinced us to go out in his little fishing boat.
None of us were particularly outdoorsy, so I still could not figure out how we had ended up out there, with bucket hats and fishing rods, sitting in the middle of the lake. After three hours, and several bottles of beer, Alice had finally gotten a bite. However, in her excitement and slight intoxication she'd yanked the rod out of the water, losing the fish but managing to catch the edge of Rose's hat with the hook. In the confusion, Rose thought Alice had thrown the fish onto her head and started jumping around, screaming to "Get it off!" Of course, this only resulted in her falling into the lake, dragging Alice and me with her. Charlie took the photo once we made it back to shore, dripping wet, Alice's short stature and pixie haircut making her look like a child standing between Rose and me. But she was proudly holding the hat on the hook, our only catch of the day.
I shoved myself out of bed. As soon as my feet hit the hardwood, Ollie was weaving around my feet, meowing to be picked up. "Sure, now you want some attention," I grumbled, throwing him over my shoulder and walking to the kitchen. I pet him a few times and set him back on the floor, pouring some food in his dish and turning on the coffee for myself. While I waited for it to perk, I took a quick shower, not bothering to shave my legs. I threw on a pair of yoga pants, an old Forks Police Department t-shirt I'd stolen from Charlie in high school, and a pair of grey wool socks, forgoing a bra. I wrapped my hair up in a bun and slapped on some moisturizer and Chap Stick. Alice and Rosalie would have a fit if they saw me like this, but I really wasn't planning to leave the house.
I grabbed a ridiculously large mug of black coffee and hummed as I inhaled the scent. I swear if they could inject it, I would take coffee intravenously. I was barely even able to function without caffeine in my system, and unfortunate remnant of the frequent all-nighters I pulled in university.
I brought my mug to the couch, and settled back into my spot from last night. Ollie was settled beside me by the time I loaded Firefox.
An hour later, I was restless. I still couldn't get into any of the stories on my usual fan fiction websites.
Maybe because you've spent about a million hours on here in the past and literally have no other good stories left to read.
Shut up, self. It's not my fault I'm the only person who still reads this crap. No one has added anything worth reading in months!
I shut my laptop forcefully and walked to my over flowing bookshelf. I really didn't want to do anything besides curl up with my glass of wine and something to read. I had been looking forward to this all week, and was growing increasingly frustrated that my plans were continually put on hold due to a disturbing lack of decent reading material. I scanned the titles and my eyes flashed to a few stand-bys. I had read Outlander about three times in the last year, and as much as I loved me some tall, redheaded Scottish highlanders, I wasn't in the mood. Same with Pride and Prejudice, despite Darcy being my first true love. I had a few other classics I'd picked up over the years without having actually gotten to, but I didn't think I could handle Jack Kerouac's teenage angst, or the time commitment it would take to get through The Count of Monte Cristo. Anything over 1000 pages was really only appropriate to take on a long vacation, consisting of nothing but sitting on a beach sipping Pina Coladas.
I sighed, resigned, and realized I would need to make a trip to the book store. Normally I would have been thrilled with the prospect of sifting through shelves of novels for a Saturday morning, but my favourite bookstore had closed earlier in the year, replaced with yet another Chapters. I supposed it would give me the opportunity to grab some Starbucks, though.
Quickly glancing down, I decided it would be a short trip so I didn't bother changing or putting on a bra, simply throwing on a zip up hoodie over my baggy t-shirt, and slipping my feet into my worn out Toms.
The October air was cool, and leaves blew around me in the fall air. I jogged to my truck to stay warm and quickly drove over to the store, luckily finding a parking spot not too far from the door. I locked my old, beat up Chevy, realizing that no one in their right mind would ever try to steal the monstrosity, and headed inside.
The heat hit me first, followed by the elevator music and fluorescent lighting. These chain stores had zero personality. I frowned slightly, remembering the warm, dark atmosphere of The Flying Dragon, where I had previously spent more of my salary on literature than was likely prudent. It had been intimate and nostalgic of a time when one could pull out a typewriter and glass of bourbon to write the next great American novel.
My eyes flicked between the enormous genre titles on the walls around the store. Nonfiction...nope, not today. Self-help...ugh, kill me. Magazines...maybe before I leave. Alice would probably expect me to have memorized the latest bridal magazines before our next dress fitting appointment. Fiction...that's the one. I walked up the few steps to the raised section, already starting to feel beads of sweat running down the small of my back. I couldn't for the life of me understand why they insisted on keeping these stores so fucking hot. It wasn't as if anyone really wanted to take a sauna while perusing the latest Stephen King novel.
Unless there was a really specific fan club you're not aware of...
That was slightly disturbing. My psyche was getting a bit perverted. Definitely avoiding the erotica and horror genres today.
I fanned myself lightly as I walked the shelves, attempting to cool down. I really didn't want to take off my hoodie, given the current unrestrained state of my chest. I glanced over at the new release section. Vampires, zombies, cowboys. Real Pulitzer Prize winning stuff there. Not that there was anything wrong with those kind of books, I mean I read vampire fan fiction for crying out loud. I was the last person who could judge. But I wanted something a bit more intellectually stimulating.
I continued strolling through the stacks, grabbing anything that caught my eye. But mainly I was focusing on the fact that I was about to pass out from heat exhaustion. I could feel the flush rising up my chest and neck. I couldn't take it anymore. I glanced around covertly, making sure no one was looking, and unzipped my hoodie, quickly pealing it off my arms and pulling it against my chest, crossing my arms.
*snort* Real subtle...
Shut up, self!
Feeling slightly more comfortable, I rounded the corner to the next aisle and noticed one of my favourite authors on the bottom shelf. And more importantly, she had a new book out. I smiled, bending over to pick it up...and immediately felt my back seize up. Between my warm shower and the heat in the store, I had forgotten about the twinge from sleeping on the couch, but apparently my muscles hadn't. I glanced around, slightly desperate, realizing I was standing in the middle of an aisle, bent over with my ass sticking up in the air for anyone to walk by. And worse than that, I realized I was going to need to use both my hands to pull myself upright using the shelves.
I shut my eyes with a groan, silently praying no one walked down the aisle in the next thirty seconds until I got myself sorted out. I reached out to grab the shelf with both hands, opening my eyes as I looked between my legs, only to see a pair of black boots turn into the aisle.
Big feet...
And then my vision was obscured as my t-shirt flopped down over my eyes, exposing my tits to the whole Fiction section.
Whew, thanks for making it to the end! I don't have a Beta yet, but I'm working on it, so this may be edited sooner or later. I'm going to post the four chapters that are written so far, so please keep reading. If you enjoyed the story, please R&R!