Summary: They belonged to two different worlds, but at that moment, they didn't care.


Seventeen

*.*

When he's seventeen, Edward falls in love with Bella Swan. He knows that it's ridiculous. It will never end well if it even begins, but when he falls he falls hard and he's learned to just go with it.

She skinny-dips at the beach some nights. Edward doesn't know if it's because she thinks it's deserted or because she likes knowing that she's being ogled — from what he's seen of her either could be true. He sits against the rocks and watches, but never reveals himself.

She likes the bars on his side of town because she knows that she can waltz in without an ID. She drinks whiskey straight up, does shots of tequila with the best of them, and always scrunches up her nose in a way that Edward finds incredibly charming. He hangs back behind the counter, straightening bottles and wiping down cabinets and watching. Always just watching.

It's she who approaches him, in the end. She's sitting on the bar — no, not just at the bar, but on the bar. Bella is perched there in a way that only she could make look completely natural — talking to his Uncle Carlisle, flirting mode in overdrive. Edward is in the back unloading the dishwasher, wiping any stray water droplets off of the bar glasses, and hanging them back up. They technically closed an hour ago.

"Who's your friend that keeps hiding from me?" Bella asks Carlisle. Carlisle chuckles heartily. He's the biggest flirt in all of St. Pete's, but he's happily married and more than willing to foist Bella off onto his nephew.

"Go pay him a visit," he says. He nods at Edward. "Lock up when you leave." The back door makes a mighty bang when it swings shut, leaving them alone in the deserted bar.

"C'mere," Bella says, crooking her index finger at him. Edward can see no reason to resist, so he does as she says. When he gets within reach, she hooks a leg around his waist and draws him to stand between her thighs. "You go to Hamilton Academy," she says matter-of-factly. Edward's bravado floods back to him.

"You noticed a scholarship student," he says, feigning awe. "It must be my lucky day." Bella rolls her eyes.

"One of Hamilton's drug dealers?" she counters. "Like there's anyone at that school who doesn't know you."

"Yeah?" Edward challenges. "What's my name?" Bella bites her lower lip and giggles like it's supposed to be an answer. Edward quirks an eyebrow. Another stuck-up bitch who doesn't even know he exists and he's smitten. Typical. He forces himself to take the upper hand, and his kiss is fierce and bruising. His hands grope at her thighs and yank her closer.

They have sex right there on the bar, on equal level. Bella's nails make crimson ribbons down his back, and they cum simultaneously in a slow bloom of passion, pleasure curling around them and seeming to drawing them closer to one another.

"Edward," she breathes against his neck.