Or the one in which Bella is a werewolf and Jacob is very, very okay with that.
Friday, Morning
Bella doesn't figure out what the smell is until fourth period Biology. Which, you know, awkward.
She'd woken up to it, that morning, the stench of rotten peaches and cloying, overripe apples itching her nostrils like angry hornets. But, you know, whatever, she'd shrugged it off. Wondered idly when she'd last taken out the trash.
"Can you smell that?" she'd mumbled into her pillow, angling her mouth away from Edward. Morning breath was the flipping worst.
"You can too?" He'd sounded surprised.
"Whatever, mister," she'd muttered, not even really annoyed, poking his distressingly perfect shin with her cold, cold foot. "Just because I'm human doesn't mean I don't have a nose."
And then she'd curled into her duvet, begged him to wake her in 5 more minutes and gone right back to sleep. (He'd muttered something about 'stinks like wet dog', but Edward was always weird in the mornings. Bella had ignoring him before tea down to a science.)
The smell was barely noticeable in the cab of her truck, and when she rolled down her windows, it was... Actually. Wow.
Wow.
Driving with the windows down was amazing why hadn't she been doing this before?
English was fun - mostly because Angela hated Sylvia Plath with the fiery passion of a thousand suns, and had opinions about everything.
('Rises up to her day after day, like a terrible fish,' oh my goodness Bella, I'll gut her like a dead fish, what a shallow hag. This woman is the embodiment of every gender biased problem we have to deal with, and if she was still alive today, she wouldn't goddamn stay alive much longer, you feel me?)
Calculus is, well, calculus. Bella stumbles through it, and tries to fade into the background with limited success. (Mrs. G does call on her once, but Mike is too busy flirting with a very pink, very giggly Braeden, so Bella's going to just count that as a win. She needs her wins.)
And then there's Biology and Edward walks in and everything is fine until he enters, but then he does enter and Bella legitimately can't. Flipping. Breathe.
It's. Just. There aren't. It just smells bad. Like the smell of rotting, too-sweet bananas overlaying burnt rubber and rancid meat. Bad.
She turns predictably green, and Mr. Banner, after a quick look at her face, is only too happy to let her go. When she's leaving the classroom, she glances back, for the breadth of a millisecond, and sees Edward's face, shocked, wide-eyed.
His eyes are as black as night.
A/n: I'm physically incapable of writing long-ass chapter okay? Deal.
Also, please fucking review, I need it like breathing. (Ha. What is dignity. I'll beg, sure.)
(Oh and the Plath poem is 'Mirror'. A horrible, horrible poem, by a horrible, horrible general failure of a human. One of my best friends loves Plath - I am left seriously questioning our relationship on a daily basis.)
Update: I have realized that, by happy coincidence, this story's title abbreviates to BDOSM. There is, sadly, no BDSM is the story. (But, if Bella's lucky, she might find the O.)