A.N: Well hello there anonymous people who clicked this story and are or aren't reading what this says! This is not my first fan fiction. I suffered some writer's block for my previous story so I apologize for not writing it anymore. This one I WILL continue. I already had it all planned out. This is a new story so I hope the first chapter made a good impression.

Anyways, IOnlyDrumNaked4U presents the first chapter of LOVE IS ALL AROUND.


BPOV

"Get the fuck out of my house!"

"Your house? I bought this house!"

"Liar."

"Bitch."

"What are you still doing here? I told you to get the fuck out of my house."

"I'm telling you lady, I bought this house."

"No you didn't you bastard! This house still belongs to me."

"Not anymore! I own this house now."

"You don't have proof!"

"Uh, yes I do."

Ugh, friggin' annoying asshole! He's making everything go the hard way. I simply asked him to get out of my house but then, he starts insisting that he bought it. My house. Just because he's famous doesn't mean he could have anything he wants, when he wants. Well, no, no buddy. I wouldn't sell this house to anyone even if the person buying this house is the freaking president or a top selling music artist.

I was standing with my arms across my chest as I stared him down. I gave him the best death glare I could. And I gave very scary death glares. My eyes were full of angst and fury for him. I wanted him to get out of my house and run away to his manager and tell him that "Oooo, scawy bewwa scawed me that I decided to stop being such an asshole and leave hew alone," but instead, he smirked at me. He had this knee weakening, crooked smirk that just increased my fury up to Pluto.

BOOM!

I punched him. I fucking punched him.

Serves you right you ditch pig. Not so smug now are you?

My dad who was the chief of police in this town taught me a couple of defense lessons. If anyone bothers me in any way, I should punch them directly in the face. That was Lesson One in Daddy Defense Camp.

The force exerted by the punch made him jerk backwards. I prayed silently for him to hit that glass table behind him but the gods of tragedy decided to disagree with me because his right foot stopped him from falling. Damn you gods of tragedy.

I could still hear the echo of the punch I made across the walls of the white house. That's when I realized that I had hit him pretty hard that it will cause a huge, monstrous, revolting bruise to form on the side of his perfect face.

Good job Bella.

"You know I could sue you for that!" he threatened. If I didn't know better, I'd think the fame had gotten over his head. He already thinks that just because he's living the glamorous life in the fast lane, it means that he has the privilege to look down on normal, typical everyday people like me.

"Well go ahead then! And besides I have my right! You were trespassing private property!" I retorted back.

"THIS IS NOT YOUR PROPERTY!"

Still playing with that excuse, are you rock star?

Lesson Two of Daddy Defense Camp was to kick the specimen's anatomy when bothering level boosts up. My knee was angled upward to kick his package when he stopped the motion with his hand. He surprised me by pulling out a checkbook and a pen from the back pocket of his jeans.

"How much?" he said in this velvet voice that would have made me melt like ice cream on a sunny day only if he weren't such a jerk.

Are you fucking kidding me?

"What do you mean how much?"

"I mean how much do you want me to pay you so that you could get out of MY property and leave me alone." He put air quotes on the "my" part.

"I DON'T WANT YOUR DAMN MONEY!"

"Listen Miss…"

"Swan."

"Yeah, fine, okay, Miss Swan. Why don't you stop being such a drama queen and take my money or just get out of MY house? If you don't leave sooner I will put a restraining order against you and possibly call the cops."

Oh call the cops all right lover boy. They know I won't get myself in any trouble since MY dad was the chief of police.

I stared directly into his eyes stating that I won't leave until he makes me. His green eyes were piercing that it almost hurt to look at them. I stood there, firmly and steadily while he put the check book back into his jeans.

He then proceeded to take my luggage into his strong arms and walking over to the door.

"What are you doing?" I asked hoping that he wasn't about to do what I didn't want him to do.

He opened up the front door and threw my luggage outside one by one. Oh hell no.

Apparently he did do what I didn't want him to do. There I stood, mouth hanging open by his actions and I didn't know what to do. What I knew was that he couldn't throw me outside like my luggage. Or could he…

He walked over to where I was and threw an exasperated look at the open door motioning me to get out along with my baggage. I stood ground and refused to surrender to him. No way am I going to let him win this battle.

Without even knowing what was happening, the ground disappeared below my feet and everything was upside down. He threw me over his shoulder as I punched his back with all my might. I screamed and grunted as he carried me out.

When we were outside he turned me around that I was now being carried bridal style. I held onto his neck for dear life. His face inched closer and closer to mine that for I moment I thought he was going to kiss me. He stopped halfway and looked me straight in the eye.

"Get. Out. Of. My. House."

He said, punctuating every word in the sentence. I barely cared that it was MY house he was speaking about. I was scared. I was beyond scared. I was terrified.

He took a swing back and threw me in the air, just like my luggage. My bottom hit the grass with a loud thud and I felt an agonizing pain in my backside. He didn't even decide to be a gentleman to just carry me out to the grass and put me down slowly. Instead, the queer bagel decided to throw me out just like garbage.

I heard him shut the front door loudly as I was consumed by pain in my backside, my head, and my heart. I started crying there in the grass. I was loosing my house, the house that was one of the last remnants passed down to me by my parents who are now beyond any sort of contact.

Just my luck, it started raining down on me. I ignored the wet drips of rain and was preoccupied by the sweet comfort of sleep.

Damn you, Edward Cullen. Damn you to hell.

Have you ever been home from a vacation to find some famous superstar who is claiming to have bought your house while you were on said vacation? No? Uhh, yeah that's exactly what's happening to me.


3 hours ago—

"How much is it?"

"Well from here to Forks it's about $105."

"How much?!" I asked, my voice rising higher by the shock of such a large amount for a taxi to travel from Seattle Airport to Forks. I should have taken the bus.

"One hundred five dollars," the driver said.

"Why so much? Can't you lower the price any way?"

I barely had that much money. And that was such a rip off just for a ride back home.

"The fee is $35 dollars per hour and it's a three hour travel from here to Forks. And no, sorry, I can't lower it. Unless you decide to let me drop you off a ten miles away which will lower it too only $95."

"Okay that's too much walking. How about two miles away?"

"Well, you seem pretty nice and kind so I guess I could just make it $100 to travel the whole way."

"I'll take it. Thanks…" I faded off trying to see his I.D. at the front of the cab. "Jacob."

"My pleasure."

After my little encounter with Jacob, I dozed off with my head resting against the door of the taxi. I was pretty tired from the flight. Hawaii was great and all but I missed home. Even though Forks annoyed me to the brink of madness because of it's horrid weather, I still miss it. I wanted to go back to my room and rest until my heart's content.

I miss Renesmee too. Renesmee was big. She was huge. She wasn't one of those houses that are off in the suburbs. She was like one of those houses in fairytales enclosed in the evergreen forest. She had a lot of space and I decorated her pretty well. I spent nearly all my life making every single detail of my house perfect to my satisfaction. I admit I did a fantastic job.

My house, which was named Renesmee was passed down to me by my parents. They both passed away due to a car accident. A dimwitted drunk driver by the name of James crashed into their car six years ago when I was still eighteen years old. James got arrested for drunk driving and is probably rotting away in a cell as I speak.

Luckily, I was eighteen when the accident happened. I didn't have to be put up for adoption, thank God, and I had inherited the house and the decent amount of money me and my parents worked together to get me to college.

Renesmee got her name from my mom, Renee and her best friend Esme whom I have never met before. Mom says that she moved to Los Angeles and married this music record dealer or something before I was born. Mom married dad, the chief of Police in this small town of Forks, and then ta-da! What happens when mom and dad do a little magic? Isabella Marie Swan is born.

My parents loved Renesmee. My mom bought the bought the house with her college money because she thought it was one of the most beautiful houses she has ever laid her eyes on and that she couldn't handle it if this house went into the hands of any other person. She said that this house could kick any of those houses' asses in "Cribs."

I grew up in Renesmee my whole life. Sometimes I felt like she was part of the family. Haha, a house really? But I had this weird connection with her ever since mom and dad died. I felt like they were still there. Not in a ghostly way but in a loving way. At the funeral, I promised them both that I will take care of Renesmee no matter what. That I won't let any harm come to her.

I know, I know. I'm treating the house like she's my freaking daughter! Next thing you know I'll have her bottom half covered in a diaper. I giggled at the thought.

"Miss…"

I heard Jacob's voice startling me away from my little daydream of Renesmee in a diaper and a big huge pacifier in her windows. I swear I'm going crazy because of the lack of sleep!

"Hmm…" I replied.

"We're here."

Those two words made me bolt out of the cab so quick that I forgot to give Jacob his pay.

"Thanks Jacob!" I said as I handed him the money.

"Sure, your welcome." He smiled at me. Even in the dark shadows of the cab, I could see his perfect gleaming white teeth sparkle.

I shut the door and headed down the steps to my door. Jacob's cab was still behind me. OH well, why not?

I wrote my phone number in a scrap piece of gum wrapper in my pocket and went back to the cab. He opened the passenger window and I handed the gum wrapper in. It took him a couple of moments to realize that there was something written in it instead of thinking that I was handing him my garbage.

He seemed nice didn't he? I mean, he wasn't one of those scary taxi drivers with pencil moustaches was he? He wasn't a creep. Why not?

"It's Bella by the way." I said as he closed the window. I waved him goodbye as his taxi drove away. I didn't feel any sort of regret inside me about giving him my number. I knew I made the right decision.

I proceeded down the path made of brown rocks and dirt with flowers neatly planted in the sides. I was carrying my luggage in both hands. Thank god I didn't pack a lot of stuff or else I'd be crawling to my front door.

Hmm…that's strange.

Someone was parked near my garage door. From the look of it, it looked like a silver Volvo. Was I supposed to have visitors? I'm sure it wasn't my high school buddies Alice and Jasper because they can't afford something expensive as a Volvo. They can barely afford anything for themselves. Oh dear I hope it's not the realtor trying to bribe me into selling my house. Again. No, it can't be the realtor either. They don't own fancy cars like these.

Oh god…

Maybe it was an intruder.

The thought of that made all my need for sleep disappear into tiny little fog smokes.

I slid my key inside the door knob and had my luggage at the ready, just in case. The front door opened to the interior of my living room. Nothing looked unusual except for the fact that there was a beige ski jacket draped over my couch. I'm sure I didn't own that jacket because it was about two to three sizes big and that because I didn't ski. I'm more on the non athletic side.

I slowly put my luggage down on the floor and dug in my satchel for my can of pepper spray. I unobtrusively went up the stairs, pepper spray at the ready when I heard the sound of a guitar playing in my music room.

Shit.

The intruder was now messing with MY guitar. MY belongings.

I felt like I was in one of those mystery movies. You know those ones where some murderer is at your house and you have to hide away from him but he ends up holding you hostage.

Double shit.

I would prefer for the intruder to be a thief than a murderer. Better homeless than dead.

I slowly walked over to my music room and the music grew louder. That's when I heard singing. His voice made me understand the intruder was a male. A singing intruder? Everything is just weird now.

And the singing intruder did have a nice voice.

Now what was an intruder that had a lot of potential into becoming a famous musician doing in my room?

Oh for Christ's sake, forget the sneaky act.

I opened the door with a loud crash making the intruder jump and stop singing and playing.

No fucking way.

Okay am I being punked? Did I get into some sort of contest in Hawaii that I unknowingly won? Was I just dreaming?

Option one seems out of the selections because Ashton Kutcher wasn't jumping in my face and saying "You just got PUNKED!" Option two doesn't seem reasonable because I am positive I didn't enter some stupid contest like "Meet a rock star" sweepstakes. Unless I was drunk…option two is a maybe. Option three was a definite possibility because there was no way this is happening.

There he was. Live, in the flesh.

Holding my guitar in his hands. His long fingers still holding the strings. A look of shock and wonder in his hypnotically green eyes as he stared back at me. And his bronze hair in a sexy disarray at the top of his head.

Edward Anthony Cullen.

I think I may have swooned a little. I was a fan of him. Not in the obsessed way. Just a fan.

I may have died and have gone rising to heaven in a beautiful white dress with angels putting the spotlight on me singing Hallelujah by Handel.

I was rising up to the heavens joyfully and was in la la land until Edward opened his mouth and when I realized the reason why I was here in the first place.

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?" He said, his eyebrows tight with confusion against his forehead.

I would swear I heard the sound of a record scratch in the back round.

"Umm…well, uh, Mr. Cullen, I, uh…" God, stop stuttering and panting. "I happen to um, live here. This is my house."

"Your house? This is my house."

"I apologize Mr. uh, Cullen, but I live here. This property is um, under my name."

"No you don't. I bought this house yesterday."

"Bought it? I'm afraid you might have been mistaken." I said with a chuckle at the end. I stopped stuttering and panting now. He bought my house? When? I mean, what?

"No I'm not mistaken. This is my house."

"No it isn't. It's mine."

"Yes it is. I bought it yesterday."

Let the argument begin.


***

I woke up on the moist grass. It was nighttime and the stars were shining brightly above me. My head hurts, my ass hurts, every part of me hurt. To think I lost my house. I lost Renesmee over some stupid conceited rock star. My eyes felt heavy because of the crying I had done earlier.

I broke my vow to my parents. I let some douche buy my house. And I didn't even know about it! Why did I even go to Hawaii? Why didn't I stay at my house? I felt the tears building up in my eyes again but I held them back as I saw the lights in the kitchen turn on. I knew he was watching me.

He probably thought I was some sort of homeless hobo that was going all crazy thinking that I owned his house. But this is my house. And I had no intention to break my vow to my parents. I bit back the tears that were threatening to fall out and was replaced by anger.

I was still on my yard. My luggage dispelled around me. I sat up and opened one that contained the picture of me and my parents. The frame had a massive crack on it. I started sobbing harder.

I saw the kitchen curtain open up a bit more and I caught a glimpse of him staring at me. For a moment he looked like he felt sympathy for me. No, I didn't want that. I wanted to prove to him that I was strong. That I wasn't some sort of pushover.

I wiped my tears away and I stood up from the ground and slowly collected my things. I stood up and attempted to walk to the door when my ankle started throbbing in pain as I fell to the grass. The bastard now disappeared from the kitchen window.

Fucking selfish conceited rock star.

I cringed and gasped as I slowly massaged it. I heard the front door open and the ditch pig was now carrying a bag of ice. He went over to me and I gave him a scowl that usually made people back away from me. Instead, he approached me and put the bag of ice against my ankle.

I tried to move away from him but the ice felt so good against my ankles that I decided to keep still. I silently thanked him for the bag of ice as he stood up and went back to the door.

A couple of minutes later, he appeared with a wool blanket and covered me up with it. I sneezed and sniffed a couple of times before he put his hand against my forehead.

"Oh crap. You feel hot."

Cough, sneeze, sniff.

"We better get you inside." He said as he put an arm around my shoulder and my luggage in his other hand.

From the look of it, the bastard did have a heart.


Um…review? Please. I really appreciate them. Negative or positive.

Grassyass! (Gracias)

That means thank you.

~IOnlyDrumNaked4U