Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or its characters; Stephanie Meyer does. I also do not own the words or music to "My Hands are Shaking" those belong to Sondre Lerche.
A/N: Hi. Well this is a bit like addressing an empty auditorium. . . This is my first attempt at writing/posting fan fiction and I'd like to thank those who encouraged me to put myself and my words out there, especially Jessica. Please note that this story is rated M. The Bella and Edward in this story are adults and as such they find themselves in adult situations and use adult language. If you're not old enough to read this kind of stuff then please stop reading now. Thanks. I don't have a beta, which maybe horrifically obvious as you read this chapter. As soon as, I click the "Publish New Story" button I'm cracking open a bottle of $8 champagne to celebrate my moment of bravery (or possibly insanity?).
My hands are shaking
From carrying this torch
From carrying this torch for you
My head is where
It's always been
If only I knew where
My feet can't stand
their ground no more
It seems that I don't care -"My Hands are Shaking" by Sondre Lerche
Bpov
I had always loved life's little coincidences. You know those moments where everything just comes together to create a totally unexpected and in my case often awkward moment? Yeah, they happened to me all the time.
Once while wandering around Amsterdam trying to find The Anne Frank House, I stopped into a "coffee shop" to get directions and there was my third grade teacher, Mrs. Densely, finishing a joint. Actually, looking back it explained a lot, I mean how many other children were taught cursive through interpretive dance? I still remember her spinning around the room saying things like: "The letters are loopy! Make your bodies loopy too!" Turned out the letters weren't the only things loopy in that class. But when that faithful knock came, it wasn't Mrs. Densely I was thinking about.
I had just moved into my new apartment a few days ago and as such I was busy unpacking. I was hoping it would be my last move for a while. I'd gotten the big stuff out of the way in the past few days, the kitchen was basically done and the furniture was all arranged to mine and Cooper's liking. I don't know why I was surprised but it turned out that he had very strong opinions on what should go where. All I really had left to do was to launch an attack the boxes holding all the memorabilia, art, and knickknacks that would change my apartment into a home.
After a quick breakfast of instant oatmeal and a shower; I'd thrown on a pair of yoga pants, a camisole, and my college sweatshirt since I was having trouble figuring out how to control the air conditioning. In deference to my sweatshirt and some of the things I knew I'd be sorting through, I called up the "college" playlist on my trusty iPod. I found that unpacking is easier when I have the likes of John Mayer, Lifehouse, Jason Mraz, and Maroon 5 providing comforting background noise. I had been really productive until lunch, all of those boxes had held been filled with books, CDs, and DVDs. I placed them on shelves according to my own specific arrangement style, which didn't always make sense to other people but made perfect sense to me.
The unpacking went much slower after lunch. I kept getting caught up in looking through individual pictures and reliving the memories preserved in them. It didn't help that I had to spend so much time trying to convince Cooper that no matter how delicious those photographs might smell to his little doggy nose, they were not for eating. Cooper was a miniature dachshund. He was one of the few beings on the planet that was more stubborn than I was, which was one of the reasons I loved him. Well that and the unconditional love. Coop was a rescue dog, so he had a lot of issues and it took him ages to trust me, but once he did . . . It was like he was so unbelievably thankful that he totally adored me. It broke my heart to think of what his first home must have been like. I hated people who mistreat animals with a passion. But unconditional love and adoration or no, he was not getting any of my pictures.
I had been staring at a picture of Alice, Angela, Rose, and myself at our freshmen year homecoming game. I was actually wearing the same sweatshirt, as I was in the picture; of course it was pristine then. I just couldn't believe how disconnected I felt to that version of me. The picture was nearly ten years old. Life had seemed so simple at eighteen.
I was nearing thirty at an alarming rate and with the benefit of life experience I'd learned that nothing works out the way you expect. Eighteen year old Bella had believed in true love, great sex, and that tequila shots were always a good idea. At nearly twenty-eight I knew that true loved didn't exist, at least not for me and that tequila was send by the Devil. Thankfully I'd never been given a reason to doubt sex.
I was just trying to decide exactly how much larger my ass was when compared to the picture, when someone knocked on my door. Cooper immediately started barking his little head off and charged for the door.
"Cooper! No! Quite!" I shouted as I lunged after him. I didn't want the neighbors to start complaining about him in the first week.
I made a grab for him, but he dodged out of my hands and doubled back towards the pictures I'd abandoned. He grabbed one in his teeth, ran a couple more feet before dropping it and rolling around on it to get the smell all over him. I suddenly remembered catching Charlie rubbing one of those cologne samples that come in the paper on his neck and shirt before a date with Sue. Luckily the picture Cooper had stolen was a landscape shot from when I had studied abroad in Ireland junior year and I had a copy of it, so I figured it would at least keep him occupied while I answered the door. I couldn't stop my giggle at the memory and Cooper's cuteness.
I looked through the peephole and suddenly every thought in my head disappeared except one: Holy. Shit.
There he was: the hair, the eyes, the shoulders, and that smirk; all there and all the same. How was that even possible?! My hand reached for the deadbolt and threw it back. He must have heard it because he quickly schooled his features into that panty melting half smile I remembered so well. Then with the force of a tsunami it all came back to me: everything he'd said and done and everything my friends had said about him. For the first time I realized it was all true. He was in fact a totally useless manipulative bastard, and just like that I was free.
I felt my own smirk emerge as I opened the door and leaned against the doorjamb.
"Well if it isn't Edward 'Fucking' Cullen."
Epov
I'd never been happier to talk to the noisy Mrs. Cope than when she informed me that a new girl would be moving in down the hall from me. I made sure to keep an eye out to see if I could catch a glimpse of her so I could decide if I wanted to make a move or not. Sadly, I had only seen her from the back when she was taking her little rat of a dog out, but it was enough to know that she had long dark wavy hair and a sweet ass. That was all the information I needed.
My plan was simple, I'd wait a few days then head over with a six-pack of imported beer (it makes me look well traveled, chicks dig that) and introduce myself. She'd be neighborly and invite me in to share and if she wasn't ugly I'd join her. Poor thing, she didn't even stand a chance.
I was feeling great about The Plan as I walked to her door. After I knocked, I could her little rat yip and her yell at it through the door. I didn't even try to stop the smirk from forming on my lips. Every guy knows that girls who live alone with little dogs are always in need of some companionship.
When I heard her unlock the door I quickly dropped the smirk in favor of my famous half smile or The Panty Melter as it had been dubbed in college.
The door opened and for a second I thought I was back in college, standing in a dorm hallway.
She looked great, hell she looked amazing. Her hair was longer, but the eyes and lips were still the same. She was even wearing that sweatshirt, how the fuck did she still have that thing?!
"Well if it isn't Edward 'Fucking' Cullen."
Her voice was just like I remembered it, only somehow it was sexier, like the rest of her. Before I could close my mouth or even think of a semi-intelligent response, she had spotted the beer. With that smirk still in full force she snatched the six-pack form my hand.
"Oh are these for me? Thanks Eddie. Bye." She purred and shut the damn door in my face.
Fuck. Me.
"No" whispered my bad side "fuck her."
