"Bells! Bella?"

"What?"

"Visitor!"

I throw down my pen and heave out of my seat. I'm not expecting anybody but I'm guessing Charlie's got Billy Black and his son over again. I think he's got in it in his head that Jacob Black and I are going to be fast friends just because our dads are fishing buddies.

Not that there's anything wrong with Jacob, he's a good kid and all but that's just it, he's a kid. All enthusiasm and scrawn.

So I meander down the stairs to say hi, jumping the last three steps because, honestly, I know the thumping annoys the shit out of Charlie.

I stop dead in my tracks, wobbling on my one good foot. Because it's not the Blacks at all. Nope, there, looking totally embarrassed to be standing in Charlie's hallway, is Edward Cullen.

"So you kids have a good night now," Charlie grins before turning to glare at me all pointedly, "go enjoy yourself Bells."

I give him the evil eye but it's only the back of his head that gets the full effect of my wrath. So instead I turn my anger on Dr Hot Jr.

"What are you doing here?" I hiss, although the whole effect is probably dampened by the super short shorts with the hole right in the middle of the ass and the Spongebob Squarepants t shirt I'm rocking.

He's red in the face and not saying anything. But his eyes are very firmly fixed on Spongebob's eyes which are stretched right over my chest. It makes the 'Bob look a little freakish but I'm guessing that's not the issue here.

I snap my fingers in front of Edward's face, "hey! Up here Cullen!"

"Um," he gulps, his green eyes refocusing as he fixes his gaze on my face, "sorry…sorry."

"So?" I cross my arms and eyeball him, "why are you loitering in my hallway?"

"The party…" he begins and I choke dramatically, just for effect.

"Oh yes. The party. This is the party that you didn't bother to ask me to?"

"I thought you'd appreciate a chaperone. I mean, I got your dad to agree to let you go and all," he's moving from nervous and unsure to cheesed off with me. Good.

"Which would've been fine only you forgot to run your bright idea past me."

"Yeah, you're welcome Bella," he sneers, "glad I bothered."

"You shouldn't have," I lower my voice, sensing Charlie lingering on the other side of the door, listening in. For a cop he isn't all that subtle.

"No perhaps not," his voice lowers too and it's kind of husky and sending a message straight to my underwear, "but you can either sit around here sulking at me or you can get dressed and come out. You never know, you might even enjoy yourself."

"Doubtful."

"And for the record, I tried to ask you but apparently you didn't see fit to reply to any of my messages."

"What messages?" Like I'm going to fall for that one.

He raises an eyebrow, "the four text messages and three voicemails I left on your cell."

"No, you…" I trail off. My cell, of course, is still in several pieces scattered on my bedroom floor. "You couldn't have asked me at school? Face to face?"

"Look Bella, I'm going to the party. Either come with me or don't."

Ugh. My witty comeback cells are failing me. Can't…produce…sarcasm. And in all honesty he's right, I could sit here watching Sports Night with Charlie or I could go laugh at Forks' idea of a good time.

"Ten minutes," I hold up the equivalent number of fingers and a grin spreads across his face. God, he's gorgeous.

Upstairs I strip off and replace the Spongebob combo with a pair of ultra-skinny jeans and a black vest, pull my hair in to a ponytail and rub a bit of eyeliner round my eyes. It'll do.

"Come on then," I push past Edward, who's still loitering with intent, and open the door shouting back to Charlie that I'll be in when I'm in. I doubt parties go on past ten in this shitty town anyhow. He doesn't seem bothered.

"What's that Bella?" Edward gasps as I trip out of the door in front of him, making for his fucking obnoxious car.

"What's what?" I ask without turning. I suddenly feel warm fingers on my shoulder blade, running along the bone, under the strap of my top.

"Is it real?"

"Oh, that…yup," I realise he's tracing the outline of my tattoo, "exhibit number one in The Banishment of Bella Swan."

He sucks his breath in, really loud and kind of shaky, "I like it."

"Me too," I nod, popping open the car door and clambering in, "but the folks…not so keen."

We arrive at the party to find, huge surprise, that the place is very much not rocking. There's a gaggle of girls in the Stanley kitchen gossiping and drinking distinctly alcohol free punch while the dudes arm wrestle in the living room. I mean, seriously, they're arm wrestling. All we need's the Fonz and we've got ourselves a regular episode of Happy fucking Days.

Angela spots me and waves, separating from the group to come talk. But when she spots Edward trailing me she falters, her eyes bugging out of her head.

"Hi Angela," he greets her politely.

"Uh," she stutters, "Edward, hi. So you got Bella to come?"

I snigger at the double entendre – look, I can't help having the sense of humour of a second grader – and catch Edward's eye. He blushes furiously as the reason for my snorty laugh dawns.

"Yeah, I found a gap for Edward to fill," I deadpan, waiting a beat, "in my diary I mean."

There's a sharp clap on my shoulder and a roaring laugh which seems to silence the whole room.

"Dude! I love this girl already!" I turn to find myself face-to-chest with this burly guy who is way too ripped for high school and repeating 'a gap to fill' over and over, increasingly loudly. Eventually he doubles up, slapping his thigh and roaring again.

"I'm here all week," I announce, rolling my eyes at the slight over reaction to my not-that-funny joke.

"I'm Emmett," the huge guy booms, enveloping me in a huge cologne-scented bear hug, "you're Bella right?" he holds me away from him and checks me out, head to toe and back again, nodding approvingly.

"This is my brother," Edward mutters, looking slightly shamefaced at the admission.

"Bella, Bella, Bella," Emmett chants, "the one who finally got Edward interested in girls."

I cock an eyebrow at Edward whose face is now clashing with his hair. This is news to me – Dr Hot Jr has a thing for litlle ol' me.

"I'm not interested in…I mean, I am…if...God Emmett!"

"Seriously Bella," Emmett goes on, ignoring Edward's extreme embarrassment, "we were all starting to think that Eddie here was about to make a flamboyant exit from the closet he's been sharing with Tom Cruise."

"Eddie?" I ask, amused.

"I prefer not to be called that," Edward grinds out from between gritted teeth.

Emmett finally releases me, still grinning from ear to ear, "sorry dude," he chuckles, holding his palm out for a high five. Edward ignores it.

"Whatever man," Emmett uses the snubbed hand to squeeze his brother's shoulder, whispering at a volume louder than the average person's speaking voice, "you totally need to hit that."

As Emmett saunters away, finding some other meatheads to, no doubt, talk physics and philosophy with, I note Edward's defeated pose.

"I'm so sorry about him," he's not looking at me, "Emmett doesn't have the brain-to-mouth filter that most normal people have."

"No problem. He seems…nice."

Just then Angela hands us both little paper cups filled with kiddy punch.

"Jesus," I exclaim, knocking it back, "nobody even spikes the punch round here?"

"It's difficult to get alcohol I guess. Everyone knows everyone else."

I nod thoughtfully at Angela's explanation. Makes sense. My brain kicks in to gear then and I snatch up Edward's car key from where he's left it on the kitchen counter. I dangle it in front of him.

"We need to duck out," I grin, "back in a sec Ang."

Edward waits until we're seated in his Volvo again before he asks where we're going, putting the car in to reverse and skilfully backing out of the collection of less impressive motors randomly parked outside Jessica's house.

I explain and he doesn't argue, though his expression is pretty doubtful.

"What? You think I won't do it?" I ask, crossing my arms across my chest grumpily.

"Oh, I've no doubt you'll do it Bella," he glances over at me, smiling his amazing lopsided smile which makes me want to lick his face a bit, "I just don't know if it's a great idea is all."

I consider for a very brief moment.

"Probably not," I agree.

We return to the party half an hour later to be met by an over excited Mike who is raving about something really fucking not worth raving about to his friend Eric on the front lawn.

"Swan!" he yells on seeing us, choosing to ignore Edward's presence, "how's it hanging?"

"Slightly to the right," I answer but the statement seems to only bamboozle Mike.

"Oh man," he clocks the brown bag under my arm, "is that what I think it is?"

I nod, "shall we not shout about it though?"

Mike is wide eyed and bouncing as he follows Edward and I in to the kitchen where we help ourselves to more of the punch. I unscrew the lid on the bottle of vodka I've just purchased – no problem by the way, one benefit of never visiting Charlie if I could help it is that most people don't recognise me and nobody anywhere questions the faithful Phoenix fake ID, that shit cost me over fifty bucks – and slosh a shot in to each of our cups.

Mike continues holding out his cup expectantly even though I'm pretty sure a shot is going to be enough in the miniscule vessels we're supping out of. I eye him warily.

"Fill her up," he beams and I start to doubt whether the guy has ever so much as touched alcohol before.

But who am I to argue? I do as I'm asked and Mike takes a long swig, immediately choking and burning red at the taste of the cheap vodka overpowering the sweet, fruity punch.

Edward thumps him on the back, hard.

"Are you ok Mike?" I ask.

He gives me thumbs, still unable to talk normally, choking out "yeah, yeah it's just…you know, the punch is kinda sweet."

I surpress an eye roll and instead nod sagely, "yeah, totally sweet."

Edward is trying not to laugh as he sips on his own drink, raising his cup to me behind Mike's back.

Word gets around pretty quickly and before I know it I'm all out of vodka but feeling pleasantly relaxed. I duck out back for a smoke – I'd stopped when I was shipped up to Forks but kept a pack in reserve in case of emergency – to find Mike doubled up over the Stanley's prize rose bushes, hurling profusely.

"Mike, you ok dude?" I ask, but he just waves an arm back at me, warning me off as another round of heaving begins.

Instead of sticking around for the show I take a wander down the lawn, dragging on my cigarette gratefully and thinking about how exactly I'm going to pass the next year in this podunk town.

It's not that I didn't understand why Renee had shipped me off to Charlie – I could appreciate that her motherly understanding was at its end what with the teenage rebellion and all. Not to mention that the final episode of the 'Bella Swan: Rebel' show would render it pretty difficult to look at one's daughter, even if she'd always been a real angel up until then.

But I feel like Forks might just drive me to insanity. I mean, Renee packed up and shipped out asap when she realised how drab the damn place was right? So why put me through the same extreme boredom? Perhaps she should have considered that this level of nothing just might induce ever more inventive ways to create excitement.

I fling my cigarette butt down and toe it enthusiastically. Somehow I doubt that even the most creative troublemaker could find much fun in Forks.

"Hey," even though I'd known him only a short while I'd recognise Edward's low, sultry voice anywhere, "feeling ok?"

"'course," I answer, "have you seen Mike?"

He hmms in reply, "he's not too good eh?"

"I tried to warn him."

"You didn't stop him," Edward counters.

"Oh, it's my job to keep the good citizens of Forks under control is it?"

"I didn't mean that…"

"Look, Mike's a big boy, he can make his own decisions," I shrug, "I don't see anybody else pebbledashing the garden anyways."

He chuckles and I see his green eyes flash even in the dark, "I'm not sure that you're very good news for this town Bella Swan."

"I'm not that bad you know," I sulk, realising that I'm earning a reputation – with Edward Cullen at least – pretty quick.

"Aren't you?" he's suddenly very close and his breath, all fruit and alcohol with just a little mint, is hitting me in the face, "do you want to tell me why you were sent to live with Chief Swan then? Apart from this?"

His arm snakes around me and his fingers find the burst of stars inked across my shoulder blade again. I shiver at his touch, briefly wondering how one moment he could be so shy, bumbling and blushing and tongue tied, and the next he could be like this – confident and pure, unadulterated sex.

"The usual, you know," I breathe and, admittedly, I bite on my bottom lip and look up at him coyly completely on purpose, "sex, drugs, rock, roll."

"Really?" he let his hand travel down, finding the middle of my back and resting his palm there, "want to give me any more details?"

"Not particularly, I'd rather maintain my air of mystery."

We're toe to toe now, hidden from the house by the complete darkness cast by the trees which edge the garden, both of us breathing pretty damn heavily. I figure if anybody finds us here we could probably pass as just having been out jogging.

"I'm not sure I'd call you mysterious," he murmurs, "intriguing maybe."

"What," I put my hands firmly on my hips, "is that even supposed to mean."

"Well, nobody who finds it as difficult as you do to put one foot in front of the other without breaking a limb can claim to be mysterious."

"Huh," I'm hovering somewhere between turned on and pissed off now, "you're pretty simple yourself Edward. I can read you like a fucking book."

"Is that right? And I guess you're about to tell me a bedtime story?"

"Spoiled, good looking, rich kid like you? There's one in every town," I scoff.

"Spoiled?" I can make out his fuck-me smile, creeping out on to his face. Smug bastard.

"Uh, yeah," my 'duh' voice is particularly seductive.

"And good looking too?"

"Don't pretend you don't spend an hour in the bathroom perfecting the sex hair Cullen."

He splutters in response, "sex hair?"

"You know what I'm talking about," I'm not about to spell it out for him because he totally does.

"Seriously Bella, I don't," he shrugs and for a moment I'm convinced that he really doesn't put a great deal of morning effort in to getting that fucked and fluffed effect.

Never let it be said that education isn't held up as the very highest of priorities by Isabella Marie Swan.

Edward gasps in surprise as I lunge, pressing my lips against his forcefully and diving my fingers straight in to his mass of mad auburn hair. My tongue pushes his lips apart and searches his mouth, tangling with his eagerly. As we kiss, our bodies hard against each other, I wind my fingers in the hair, pulling and tugging, tangling and twisting it, pulling his head down to allow me easier access to him.

I feel extremely triumphant as he hardens against my stomach but resist the urge to rub myself frantically against him like a bitch in heat. After all, this is a teaching exercise, not pleasure.

So I pull back, freeing my hands from his now even crazier hair, and give a satisfied smile, announcing, "sex hair."

Edward, eyes wide, mouth open and panting, reaches up to touch his scalp, investigating the mess I've made of his carefully arranged 'do.

"Ok. Right…I see."

"I'm a firm believer that people learn best through practice," I quip, stroking my chin like I've got a little beard there, which, for the record, I haven't. Though I did recently spend some time with an eyebrow pencil exploring the chin-wig possibilities. Like I say, life in Forks can be pretty dull

"Could we practice again?" he asks, kind of nervously. Confident sex-Edward has left the building.

I pretend to think for a moment then smile up at him, moving in and standing on my tippy-toes again.

This time I take it easier, letting my lips flutter over his, licking slowly at his bottom lip, nibbling and tasting. He responds in kind, almost hesitantly returning my kisses, letting me take the lead as, once again our tongues find each other. We exchange hot breath, both inhaling and exhaling deeply and rapidly, equally excited by the feel of each other.

As we kiss Edward's hands stay firmly in place, never moving from my waist. It's a frustrating state of affairs being that my entire body is yearning for the touch of his long, firm fingers. Not, of course, that I'm expecting him to go plunging in to my panties without a second thought – although that isn't to say that the idea is unwelcome, despite the embarrassment factor of the rather unexpected impression of a leaky tap that I'm currently doing – but a little over the shirt action wouldn't go amiss. In fact any movement would be better than this…nothing.

My hands, on the other…uh, hand…are touching up a storm, moving from his hair down his face and across his hard as granite chest where I can feel his nipples straining against the thin cotton of his shirt. He groans as I continue downwards, finding the hem of the shirt with one hand and pulling it out to allow the other hand access to his bare skin.

He's warm and firm and unyielding under my hands and I take my time feeling the outline of muscle and sinew and letting myself hope he'll follow my lead. But his hands stay just where they are, holding on to me as if I might be about to fall over. Which, in fairness, is always a possibility. Even so.

"Edward," I murmur in to his mouth, freeing one hand from his shirt and allowing it to find one of his. My fingers stroke over his knuckles hopefully. I'm too embarrassed to tell him to touch me but I figure this is probably hint enough.

But even while I'm running my tongue and teeth down his neck and around his ear, pushing myself in to his very obvious hard on, he still refuses to move.

I growl in frustration and grab his hand in mine, yanking it off of my hip and placing it unceremoniously on my left boob. Admittedly it's not the most subtle of moves but it has the desired effect and while he palms me roughly, causing my nipples to stand to attention and warmth to flood through me, he pushes his other hand up the back of my vest, spreading his palm over the small of my back, his fingers digging in to my soft flesh.

I rotate my hips, letting my pelvis grind against his upper thigh, sending a feeling of intense pleasure out to every nerve ending in my body and causing him to shudder, his erection twitching against my stomach. Not for the first time I wish I was just that bit taller. I think he might have the same idea actually because he bends his knees just enough that, with my tip toeing and all, we're almost aligned. Ok, so it isn't the most practical of stances for either of us but with a little spread of the legs I'm kind of straddling him and, even through our jeans my clit is feeling rather worshipful of him.

So worshipful in fact that I'm suddenly throwing caution to the wind, figuring that I don't really give a shit about my reputation any more here than I did back home in Phoenix. Steadying myself by backing up in to a tree I pull Edward towards me, two finger hooked in to the waistband of his jeans.

He peers at me all questioning and oversized eyes, which I respond to with a small, sly smile and a raised eyebrow.

We're staring intently at each other, our chests rising and falling rhythmically in tandem, and I'm pretty damn sure we're on the same wavelength. So I run a hand slowly…slowly down, tracing a route from his shoulder, lingering over a rock hard nipple before continuing the journey down to the bulge in his pants, eliciting a very satisfactory hiss and curse from him as I firmly press my palm down against his apparently rather well sized cock. I grin up at him, watching his lax jaw and closed eyes as I push my palm up and down rhythmically once, twice and a third time.

Then, when I'm ready to explode myself just from watching him getting his rocks off, through clothing no less, I expertly flick open the first and second buttons on his fly, shamelessly reaching in to his underwear to release the beast.

I can't deny I'm a little surprised when he jumps ten foot in the air and swears at me. It's not a reaction I can say I expected.

"What the…?" he blathers, pulling away from me looking startled, his skin obviously blazing red even in the near pitch.

I blink at him, wavering between righteous indignation and shame and embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, running a hand nervously through his hair, pacing away from me a few steps, "it's just a bit…"

"A bit what?" I choose not to look at him as I straighten out my vest and try to ignore the throbbing between the thighs.

"Well, I mean…we don't really know each other and…" he indicates the garden with a sweep of his arm, "this isn't exactly the most romantic of settings."

I can't help the snort that bubbles out of me at his statement.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise that boys needed candles and soft music and all that shit for a quick and dirty."

"A quick and dirty?" I watch his mind ticking over for a moment…and…he's got it, "oh. Oh. I didn't think…wouldn't you rather…?"

"Look forget it," I mutter, pretty pissed off with myself for thinking that this super hot boy with his super sized wang might want to get it on with the weird girl from out of town. But, actually, even more pissed off with him for getting me hot under the collar and cuffs and then not following through on the shit that he's started.

"No Bella, I don't want to forget it. I'm sorry if you thought I wanted to, you know…"

"Fuck?" Jesus, he won't even say it, much less do it. And the penny has dropped people. Yes, I have realised that there's more to this sudden attack of taking things slowly than a weirdly feminine preference for Barry White on the stereo and silk sheets under-ass.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" he looks sheepish, as well he might.

"You're not a fucking virgin are you Edward? Please tell me you're not a goddamn fucking virgin!"

I know the raised voice and slightly crazed expression isn't the kindest reaction I might have had but I'm freaking out slightly here.

He doesn't say anything, just shrugs and makes a mumbling non-committal sound.

"Shit, you are aren't you? Your cherry is completely in tact, you're as pure as the driven fucking snow! You've never done it!"

"Alright," he moans, "is it that big a deal? We've not all lived in big cities smoking pot and making love to anything that moves."

"Making love? Oh Jesus, Mary and all the fucking Saints! Now I feel like some sort of comedy villain Edward. Thanks a whole fucking heap!"

I'm half aware that I'm ranting and raving like an idiot over something that isn't actually such a big deal. But I'm in shock from his confession – I mean the guy could get it on with any girl he wanted but he hasn't – and feeling like a total mega-slut for trying to climb on board a virgin after only having exchanged maybe a hundred words.

I take a deep shuddering breath and pull out my packet of Marlboros, dragging a cigarette out between my sore, swollen Edward-ed lips and lighting it.

"Would you take me home please Edward," I ask, deciding just to brazen the whole thing out, "I have a date with my vibrator, things to finish up here y'know."

He blushes furiously, readjusting himself before gallantly offering me his arm. It's a bit of a weird thing to do although I'm quickly learning that he does a lot of totally bizarre old fashioned things – holding doors, not having frantic sex with women on the grass at the houses of friends, saying please and thank you. That kind of shit.

We bypass the goodbyes, only waving to Mike who's sitting on the low garden wall looking deathly pale and shaking slightly as we skirt around the house and jump in to Edward's shiny Volvo.

"Look, Bella," he says when we're sat out front of Charlie's, the car idling in the glow of the porch light which the Chief has thoughtfully, or maybe suspiciously, left on for me, "it's not that I don't want to because, my God, I do, but I don't want to just have sex with you when we're drunk, at a party…"

"You're drunk? Seriously?" these Forks kids really can't handle their booze.

"That's not really the point," he sighs, ruffling his hair with a restless hand, "I don't know how things were with you before you came here but I want us to be together the right way."

What the fuck that means I have no idea so I just look at him, adding a little bit of a sympathetic nod for effect even though I'm still totally not getting this.

"What I mean is, perhaps we could date first? Meet each others parents?"

"You want Charlie's permission to do me?"

"Oh God," he puts his head in his hands.

"I'm kidding Edward," I roll my eyes, wondering if I've ever met anyone so straight laced and concluding that aside from Charlie no, no I haven't. "Look, I don't really do the whole 'dating' thing, it's just…it's not really me, ok? But if you want to hang out, see how it goes, perhaps…you know, practice a bit more we could do that maybe?"

I move to open the car door but he leans over and puts his hand over mine.

"Hold on," he says and climbs out of the car, walking round to open my door. Like I say, weird.

"Thanks," I mutter, trying not to make him feel stupid for the whole door opening scenario.

"Thanks for coming out with me tonight Bella," he smiles, "I had a really nice time."

I can't resist breaking out the eyebrow and I follow it up by pushing myself up on my toes and kissing him, hard, on the lips, maybe slipping a little tongue in for good measure. And perhaps letting my hand wander, you know, down.

I pull away, wishing him a goodnight and jog up the steps to let myself in to Charlie's crappy little clapboard house.

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A/N: reviews are nice...EQ x