Sucker Love

Chapter One: Heaven Sent

Disclaimer: Yes. I do, in fact, own Twilight. Stephanie Meyer is just a pseudonym I used so as to not attract attention in the public eye and help me to live a normal life. Damn, secret blown. Don't tell anyone!

...Please, don't tell me any of you believed that?

He wasn't tan. Not at all. I had envisioned Brazilian men to be dark, muscles sculpted with inhuman lithe and minds as dull and thick as bricks.

He certainly was inhuman, just not in the brutish Hercules sense that I had expected. He wasn't at a lost for intellectual function in the least - sometimes it seemed as if there were centuries worth of carefully developed thoughts and theories evolved in his young mind. He couldn't have been older than seventeen, but it was like he had lived twice as long as my grandfather. A pure, innocently poetic soul. A tragedy.

I admit, I had been looking forward to the excess of bare-chested Portuguese males, greased with sweaty perspiration glittering in the blistering sunlight and babbling out grunts in a foreign, intelligible tongue.

He spoke perfect English. Too perfect. I had never seen him without long sleeves and slacks (how he could bare it, I could only suspect Witchery), never mind actually being shirtless or dressed in only swim trunks like I had imagined the population to be half the time.

The deeply burnt copper skins were ubiquitous, clashing almost grotesquely with his sickly pallor complexion. Never again would I criticize my own measly baked coloring after encountering this boy. 'Pale as the dead,' my father had described him.

I don't know why it was the only thing marauding through my thoughts. He was the only thing. It was like nothing else mattered - there was no more purpose to this vacation, the ethnic scenery, scantily clad men, or the very air I breathed. It was like he was the plague itself - never mind those ridiculous 'jungle fever' shots I had been forced into having injected, there should have been some sort of 'Edward Cullen' vaccine. I would have taken part in that one willingly.

It was to ensure that pathogenic transmission wouldn't be a problem for us. At least, that was what my mother said on the ride to the airport, whatever it actually meant. Sure, I could make a few guesses - I wasn't stupid, nor was I ignorant. I had enough sense in me to figure it was something along the lines of preventing sickness in an underdeveloped country. The transfer of foreign disease and parasites wasn't something I wanted to risk. But why did the damned things have to hurt so much? That was my only question. Who exactly was it that had the brilliance to come up with jamming a thin, pointed metal needle into a persons skin and injection various drugs directly into their blood stream? Those things are on the inside for a reason, you know. Couldn't those doctors come up with some sort of oral tablet form of all these 'required' shots? My entire arm, from the shoulder downward, was still numb even now - hours after our plane had already landed in the tropics. Shouldn't that mean something?

I honestly didn't care much for South America. The only things that came to mind were Native Americans, rain forests, and bugs. A lot of bugs. I also thought of jungle cats and soccer, but neither interested me enough to urge a visit. There were plenty of other retreats that didn't call for prior medical torture: places in the Caribbean with crystal oceans and palm trees. I suppose I really shouldn't be complaining, though. After all, how many kids at school could say they've been below the zero degree latitude line? Swansea wasn't exactly a big town - my high school had a grand total of just under 600 students. In fact, we (us Swanseans, that is) are so insignificant to the state of Massachusetts that our school had run out of white paper by the third semester; The town was unable to buy any more in the middle of the educational year without government provided funds. For the next three months, we had completed assignments and taken our end-of-the-year finals on hues of blue, green and pink sheets. It was another good thing that I had made it a habit of rejecting defrosted preservative slop, brown-bagging my lunch the old-fashioned way. You could never really know when the food supply at lunch would run dry. The system had no shame in sending students back to class hungry; It was almost sad to admit you hadn't eaten an afternoon meal because the cafeteria had run out of food that day.

With that being established, I wasn't expecting much from this get-away. I knew the plane tickets and hotel must have costs my parents practically enough to send both my sister and I through a semester of college, but I figured the actual stay would be less than aristocratic. Outside of our suite, all there would be was insufferably humid wilds and natives dressed in little more than loincloths, tattooed and pierced in places that had no business being punctured.

It came as an Olympian relief when I perceived the land for the first time - a surprisingly replete civilization. Brazil - or at least the tourist attracted routes- was graciously abound with modern-day buildings, automobiles and technology. I realized how pessimistic it was of me to have expected an Aztec empire in the twenty first century. As long as I stuck to the populated areas and tourist routes, I wouldn't need to be anxious of a hostile wilderness, I figured.

The fresh air outside of the airport felt like a horrible hell after stepping out from the air-conditioned shelter. I scowled, already feeling beads of sweat steeping my hairline. It was only after I had plucked the aviators from a modest carry-on dangling in my grip and my sight was protectively shaded did I allow the most minuscule of smiles to twitch onto the corners of my lips, surveying every ounce of scenery surrounding me. I couldn't see much of the wild through the mass of traffic whizzing by the pick-up lane, but I knew enough by this first glance impression to make a decision.

Wow. It was definitely nothing like "The Jungle Book."

"What'cha smirking at?"

The upturning curve was gone in an instant, frown set firmly back into place as I sent a lazy glare downward, knowing the offender couldn't see my expressive eyes through the darkened lenses. Saerik pouted irritably, the motion intensified by the decent amount of baby-fat compounding her rounded cheeks. I sighed lightly, shaking my head infinitesimally as I brought my line of vision up beyond her 4'9" frame. At only a meter and one third tall and eleven years old, she was was one kid with a voracious knack for trouble-making. A pain in the ass to me, but an adored 'sweetheart' to my parents. The way they saw it, she was just 'at that age'. It was the same excuse they dubbed on me whenever I complained about how annoying and spoiled she was. It was pure drudgery to convince them that it wasn't simply a cry for attention that caused me to express the nearly interminable frustration a younger sister gave me.

"I'm not smirking," I droned, careful not to put the slightest tinge of interest into my tone. She tended to drift off faster if I proved to be an unentertaining subject. "Where're mom and dad?"

I had noticed as I completed my scan of the hustling crowds - the two were no where in sight. While the situation was potentially panic inducing, I knew better than to think anything less than the spawn at my side had simply slipped away while our elders collected the luggage from the airport baggage claim. Her nonchalant shrug of the shoulders only confirmed my suspicion. I scoffed, turning away and willing with my mind that she would go away. I almost wished we really were in some uncharted land and a rabid baboon would leap from the trees in pursuit of young children. The very idea brought another grin to my face - if only it could happen in reality.

"You're smirkin' again," the fifth grader sang, swaying her hips to the melody of her voice. I snorted, swiftly bringing an arm up to swat the back of her head. She led out a muffled wail, stumbling forward only a step or two before she had regained herself, swiveling around to narrow her moistened eyes towards me.

"Hey! Quit it, you loser!"

I wrinkled my nose at her terminology, the smile on my face widening to include teeth with a more mocking air. "Oh? So I'm the loser, am I? You don't see me going around with nothing better to do than bother everyone in sight. Get a life, Eric."

She puffed out her cheeks, small fists curling up at her sides. "Why don't you get a life, Charlie!"

I only cringed the smallest bit at her spat. Unfortunately, her teasing didn't include the same name-calling disreputing mine had. While 'Eric' was simply a masculine play on her unconventional name, Charlie was actually the authentic version of mine. I wasn't normally bothered very much at all by my parents' choice - it was only that sense of dread each first day of the school year brought. My classmates were used to the confusion by now, none of them fazed by the teachers' strange glances accompanying every new roll call. I had long since pretended to ignore it. There were two other Charlie's in my graduating class, only both of them were boys. Was it really such a ungraspable concept for a female to have a generically male name?

"Well, that was a superb comeback," I voiced with little enthusiasm, fighting off a cackle as my younger sister whined helplessly. It was unfathomable to me why she was always so hell bent on getting attention - whether good or bad, it didn't matter. Were all little kids such spot-light whores?

"Saerik! Charlie!"

I raised a brow, tilting my head towards a middle-aged couple making their way towards us, a suitcase in each of their hands as they weaved clumsily through the bustling traffic of other travelers. Never mind pre-pubescent girls: why did parents always feel the need to attract attention? Couldn't they have just made their way towards us without the call of warning? I was rather positive we would notice their arrival without a blatant introduction.

I sucked in my bottom lip, nibbling down lightly in mild displeasure as the pair came to a halt before us, breathing just the slightest bit rapid. My father took advantage of the motionless moment by releasing one of his arms to wipe across the length of his forehead and send a reproachful look up into the sky. I took it as a sign he was less than thrilled over the climate. My mother, however, had her scold directed towards her children.

"What did I tell you two before we got off the plane? I know we're all a little riled up from the flight, but we need to stay together!" she chided, first speaking to the both of us before deciding to single me out. "You should know better, Charlie! Set an example for your sister."

I felt my eyes widen to the circumference of a quarter. As expected, everything was blamed on me. Whatever Saerik chose to do, it was reflected on my influence. She had a mind of her own - it wasn't my fault if she chose not to use it to its limited potential. I was glad the sunglasses hid the look of shock on my face.

The little devil herself decided that the moment was as good as ever to allow her already sparkling celery orbs to glisten with unshed tears, flinging herself into our mother's arms.

"Mommy! Charlie was making fun of me again!"

My jaw slacked, instantly defending, "I was not! She started it!"

I almost winced at the juvenile retort. Sixteen and I really couldn't come up with something that didn't remind me of a typical Spongebob backfire?

My mother frowned, rubbing Saerik's back comfortingly. "Really, Charlie. Can't you lay off your sister for a while? We're on vacation, and I don't want to deal with the two of you at each others necks the entire time."

I huffed in disbelief, snapping my head away abruptly. Of course, just accuse me. I could almost feel the smug pride radiating off of Saerik's sniffling form, mom's hands still trailing her spine sympathetically. The little twerp.

"C'mon," my dad mumbled, gripping both suitcases again. He didn't have the same apparent prejudice towards me, but he never really backed me up either. Like most men, he usually just sat back until we had exhausted ourselves from conflict and oh-so cleverly averted the subject. "We still have to get a rental car. We should head over before the line gets too long."

My mother nodded silently in agreement, releasing Saerik and gently shooing her to the side as she beckoned one of the luggage bags towards me pointedly. I pursed my lips, snatching the handle up before stalking after my already retreating father. Sure, even hundreds of miles away from home and on the other side of the world I couldn't get a break. Was it too much to ask those gods watching out for me to send a little ray of sunshine my way? Preferably a romance-novel-esque meeting of soul mates? I wasn't that picky - just throw me some kind of bone here!

Yeah, right. I wouldn't hold my breath.

It was love at first sight. I knew it instantly. All to myself, never to be shared with anyone else for as long as we were together. The perfect view of perfection.

My own hotel room. Right next door to my parents and sister, of course, but still all my own. I could have hugged them. I did, although my father's was just a smidgen more appreciative and drawn out.

I smiled slyly as I peaked out my window from behind the curtain, watching a group of physically well-off boys fooling around on the edge of the pool. Yes, this was heaven. Air conditioned, wireless Internet connected, full kitchen bearing heaven.

The door to my room shuddered, opening a moment later as I hastily jumped back from the widow, putting on a sloppy act of innocence. My mother stood in the threshold, sweeping the room with her eyes in disapproval. The single drawback to this havenous set up - the spare key confiscated by my parents.

"Charlie, didn't I tell you to unpack and get settled in? What have you been doing this whole time?"

Playing peeping-tom to the drenched young men outside, obviously. A more acceptable reply popped into my head readily.

"Just looking around," I brushed off, not feeling as guilty over the fib since it wasn't a fully blown-out lie. I was definitely looking, alright. She sent me a skeptical stare, dropping the matter momentarily with an exhale.

"Just make sure you finish up -or at least start- unpacking before we leave to get dinner. You father and I decided just hang here and explore the hotel tonight. Meet us outside in about half an hour so we can all go down together."

I played around with the idea of refusing, telling her I would skip the family dinner in the hotel's complementary food buffet to drift off on my own. I knew she would only reject the suggestion and start up another mess of trouble.

"Yeah, sure," I eventually settled, tone melancholy. I noticed peripherally as she nodded, turning her back and departing with a quite snap of the closing door. The sudden hushed silence was almost deafening. Defeated, I sauntered over to my suitcase, discarded to the side as soon as I had stepped into the room, and bent down to unzip it's contents to begin personalizing the space. I noticed another bag leaning up against the couch, this one adorned with ornate fluer-de-lis designs against a yellow and black background. I narrowed my eyes deviously, grabbing that container instead and pulling out my laptop and it's charging chords. I hurried to clear off the bed-side table, reaching over the mattress to plug the cable into the electrical outlet. Settling the portable computer in its place and starting it up, I glanced back towards the window. From this angle, I was pleased to see that the view wasn't marred at all. Maybe things would turn out alright around here after all. I beamed in accomplishment, logging in and searching for the wireless signal.

Unpacking - officially started.

I could have kicked myself when I realized the longest sleeved shirt I had packed was only a few inches. At the moment, I didn't care about how uncomfortably warm a hoodie would have made me: I just wished I could have the cotton cover. My arms had to be at least five shades lighter than even the palest of the other hotel guests (I didn't even want to compare myself with the native workers or consider the composition of less-exposed skin.) Even if I had had enough self esteem to wear a two-pieced bathing suit, I wouldn't have wanted to give a view of my egg-shell colored stomach. This was what I get for choosing the computer over New England's famous beaches.

Self-confidence at it's lowest, I slithered through the groupings of people and tried to keep an eye out for my path and familiar faces simultaneously. It would suck even more if I got lost in the dining room, of all places. I wondered if anyone would notice my wandering. For the first time in my memory, I was inexplicably happy with my sister's loud mouth: target found. I made my way over to our table, plate in hand, and slid into the free seat like I had been on their trail all along.

"That's all your eating?" my mother butted in as soon as I had settled, regarding the modest portions on my plate. I nodded distractedly, peering from the corner of my eyes to make sure there were no eavesdroppers.

"Yeah, I'm not that hungry. Still a little sick form the plane ride," I told her, scooping up some salad to end the conversation. I was starving, actually, but though it better to limit my intake. With the line of consumers behind me up at the serving table, I didn't want to hold it up for any of the others. Not to mention you never knew who was watching. What if one of the boys from the pool had seen me walking away with an over-flowing mound of food? I knew I could break into the candy stock I had packed in my suitcase when I returned upstairs. I could handle the unfulfilling vegetable meal for now.

After tutting her opinion and praising Saerik's growing appetite, my mom turned to her spouse, inquiring something about tomorrow's plans. I tuned them out instantly, knowing it would be of no interest to me. I would find out when it happened. People watching was more on my agenda for the moment. I was surprised, in the least, that not many of the inhabitants seemed to be from another culture at all. Nearly three quarters of the room were occupied with individuals who seemed to be of, or partly of, Portuguese descendants. It was enough to make the bland taste of lettuce turn sour. Surrounded by dark, copper skinned beauties.

I tuned my senses beyond the wall of glass, carefully taking in the pool area outside of the main lobby. With a window that big, I had no doubt that every inch of the grounds was within my sight. The pool was large, what looked to read two meters at the maximum depth and cozy hot tub jutting out from one of the bends. The concreted area was fenced off, lush green grasses making a decent sized field outside of the wall. A picturesque garden of blooming buds seemed to cover each shade of the color pallet at first sight. Further back, a gazebo stood in the epicenter, the statue of a man pinpointing its middle. I furrowed my brows, munching on another bite of cucumber, lost as to why they would think of erecting a sculpture in the middle of a gazebo. He must have been an important god, or one of the ancient explorers who claimed the land. I found it odd that they would praise their ancestors being taken over.

I choked, spitting out a glob of half-dissolved greens back into my plate. Shit, I had to be seeing things; The statue just moved -damn fast! I disregarded my mothers light shriek, Saerik's exclamation of "ew!" and my father's hand patting between my shoulder blades. I hurried to sputter out the remaining food, pulling my head up from the plate and brushing away the trailing saliva from my lips. I knew I wasn't seeing things. A boy was standing only a few feet away on the other side of the window now, eyes squinted in furious concentration as they swept across the length of the inner hall. I gaped, watching in awe as his steely-looking orbs seemed to fly through the room, studying each person's face with the swiftness of an automaton. Every one of his movements, in fact, seemed to relate back to some type of robot - the programmed scan of the crowd, emotionlessly rigid posture, and the barely traceable widening of the eyes and upward twitch of the mouth when he seemed to spot his target. I was confused as ever as he nodded to himself affirmatively, turning on the heels of his feet and walking away without another passing of a second. I leaned forward, almost wanting to cry out and call for him to wait. I tried desperately to keep him within sight as the bobbing of other heads got in the way, shifting around in my seat like a wrangled fly trapped in a spider's web. No way - it was too weird! I swear there had been a statue back there! But the gazebo was empty and the man walking away. It wasn't my imagination - I was so sure that he had even been glowing as the setting sun had hit his skin! Oh no, please don't tell me that shot was worth nothing at all! Had I already been infected by disease after only a few hours? Hallucinations? Really? I was going insane?

"Charlie!" my dad wheezed, voice sounding strangled as he held me in place. It was a needless motion in the next moment, however, when the boy froze in his steps, switching back around with the speed of a lightning bolt and instantly locking eyes with me. I gasped, hands snapping up to cover my mouth and eyes wincing shut. I had no idea why it called for such a reaction: it was just that, a reaction. I felt a fire cursing through my veins, organs withering with fluttering butterflies and mind going blank. This wasn't normal, I could distinguish that much. My limbs felt like goo, unconsciously settling and aiding my father in his task of holding me down. I slumped over in the chair, taking a deep, steadying breath before looking back up and out the window.

It was empty. No sign of life - not even a bird. He was gone. Maybe never there at all.

I ducked my head, fingers curling up into my palms. Man, this was what going crazy was like? Seeing beautiful men that aren't really there? What the hell kind of evil parasite was this that had taken me over?

"Charlie?" my father's relieving voice soothed, arms still holding my shoulders in a protective grip. I lifted my head, the act suddenly seeming like heavy weight lifting as I made a connection with my family. They (and every other person seated within a five table radius, might I add) stared in worry, looking as if they expected me to fall to the floor and seizure. I flushed, bringing my eyes back to the doilie beneath my plate and feeling the blood working it's way up to my face and ears.

"H-hunh?" I gurgled in response, knowing the answer didn't help to console their concern. I wished the others would look away - I could handle my family, but a room full of strangers was something else. Wasn't I worried about them thinking that I was a hog a little while back? I should have layered my plate with more food than I knew I could handle. Maybe then my attention would have been too occupied to look up for a single moment. I would rather them think of me as an American pig than an escaped mental patient.

"Are you alright? Charlie, what was that all about?"

I ignored him, the words not full processing. I stood, pushing back my chair and forcing my brain to disregard the numerous pairs of eyes following my movements. I kept my gaze to our private table, switching an intense stare between each of my companions.

"I'm...fine," I breathed out, hesitating for a moment. I could handle this myself. No need to involve them until I was seeing them as handsome men. "I think I'll just, uh, go upstairs. Tired..." I trailed off, mentally praising the excuse as I hurried away. I sensed my mother preparing to mimic the action, only ceasing at the will of my father.

"Is Charlie going to die?" Saerik asked, sounding only slightly more genuine than I would have imagined. I didn't care for listening in on the reply. I focused solely on making my way out of the densely packed chamber and back into the desolate hallways. Once that was accomplished, there was only the destination of room 304 in my mind. As the door slammed behind my back, I was immediately dashing for the window, stumbling along the way and ripping the curtains to the side for a clear view. I prayed for the ability of the boy's eyes, my own version of the action seeming to take twice as long.

There was no question. Completely devoid. Lifeless.

Huffing angrily, the only reasonable thought that passed through my mind was kicking the television stand. I did so, tears stinging my oculars in an after effect. I allowed rageous tears to flow, limping over to the bed and collapsing into the comforting cushions. The pillows caught my tears as I nuzzled in, burying my nose into the continuously re-used material. I could scream - I honestly wanted to. My willpower was over-ridden by sensibility, something I thought I had been parted with during dinner. I chuckled ruefully, shaking my head at the revelation. I had enough sense to not yell in a public hotel, but I could be attracted to a factitious, mobile statue? Oh, the irony.

Maybe I would wake up in Wonderland. I could only hope it was a better escape than the real world.

(A/N) I need to start this story by saying that I am NOT one of those 'oh-my-Edward,' die-hard Twilight fans. The books are okay, but remind me more of just a decent Fanfiction you'd find on one of these sites rather than a Best Seller; not that I have much room to say, but I definitely don't think the series is worth all of the latest hype and attention. As an avid reader, I can honestly say it's nothing amazing and their is plenty of other published literature that far surpasses this fad. This story, however is dedicated to two of my real-life best buds, Cabrak2815 and letitgo23, who are one of those who are obsessed in every sense of the word ;D I'll try my best with not letting any ill-feelings get in the way of my writing of this, although I can't promise too much...

Also, I know close to nothing about and have never been to South America. Anything I write will be based upon my own imagination and some George of the Jungle-like images. I apologize ahead of time for the lack of facts. And while I'm at it, I'm obviously no expert with Twilight either, so feel free to point out anything I'm not spot-on with in the department as well.

Now, now, I know people generally tend to hate anything Edwards/OC without the 'Bella' factor, but I hope you'll give this a shot! My plan is to follow along with the plot of New Moon when he's MIA in the book. There'll be no physical Bella, but only the memories and regrets Edward is carrying around for her. At this point after he leaves, I'm pretty sure he had every intention to never see her again, am I right? The story will follow that plot, but you won't have to worry about me completely changing the end of New Moon too drastically. To be perfectly honest and give away some plans for this fanfiction, I have no ideas that involve a happy ending to this story where Edward and Bella never meet again and he moves on with someone else. We'll just categorize this as a 'tragedy,' shall we?

Lastly, the story sort of goes along with the song Sucker Love by Placebo.

Erm, well... I guess that's all. Please tell me what you thought!