Disclaimer: As usual, I own nothing. Though, I guess I own some things, like this plot. Yes, this plot is mine, as well as my bad sense of humor and, uhm, my basic knowledge of French. But, you know, if I get that wrong during any part of the story, go ahead and correct me. :P

A/N: Bonjour! Finally, I've found a way to get some French in my stories. And that note up there won't make sense until you read the chapter, so oh well. xD Yes! There's French in the title and there's French in the chapter - no, not a lot. You all should be able to translate it by yourselves, I made sure of it, because, why, my friends? Because I am super author.

Alrighty, so let's get down to business, shall we? THANK YOU SO MUCH for you reviews. :P It's so awesome to see all those YGL! fans here, it's so awesome. My little online family, right? I think, three people said they like this writing style and this plot better than YGL!, so I'm hoping that this story can eventually be as amazing as that one has been for me. Anyways, thank you all for your support and your suggestions, and keep 'em coming! If you know me you know I don't mind questions/suggestions/criticism, so go for it. Oh, and if you don't know me, hey there I'm Nicky - uhm, if I ramble, don't worry. It's normal for me, my A/N's tend to be longer than I intend for them to be...

According to my fans (that is so fun to say), it "enhances my story". Go figure. :P Oh, and those who guessed the title is from Annie, yeah, you're right, pat yourself on the back! And, questions I got were when I was updating YGL!, and if I'm going to use different characters like I did in my other story...

Respectively, I dunno, soon I hope, and yes, yes, yes, I most definitely will. Guys, YGL! is being extremely difficult with me, and that's all I'm going to say about that for now. It's like a spoiled child. I needed a quick break, so this is what you get - now about this chapter, I don't particularly like it, but I think I have a better idea where this story is going now. :)

AYCDICDB. YGL!. (And, yeah, the ! is necessary. xD)

Why do my stories have the weirdest acronyms...?

Anyway, read on, my friends. :)

It had been getting harder to try and keep her calm with every single step that he took towards her, obviously heading for the glaringly obvious empty seat beside her. Suddenly she cursed that she had managed to get Mike to sit next to Jessica and talk, as per Jessica's request. Mike was a nice guy of course, this much be her sick form of punishment from whatever god that was out there, not like she was an overly religious person. Perhaps that was it – this seemed like some kind of sick, twisted form of torture to make up for all of her sins. She guessed she was finally making up for the time she accidently stole a candy bar from the general store down the street.

After what seemed forever of her breathing, anxious and tense, he took a seat in the chair beside her, a soft smile on his full lips. She noted for just a moment that he had really grown into his face, despite her attempt not to see anything good about the boy next to her, the one she had loathed for all those years – yet, it was extremely hard not to admire the gorgeous boy next to her. While one he had been baby-faced and the word adorable had often been thrown around, that just wasn't possible anymore. His face could very well be carved in stone, his sharp jaw defined and masculine, his high cheekbones set in perfection. His eyes were still the same as always, so she skipped over them in her one-over, simply because she had always had to avoid them, afraid she'd end up drowning in their depth.

She continued on his face, his nose perfectly placed and angled just right, once again as if a famous sculptor had spent hours trying to get it just right. The full lips, the squared off chin, and once again she was back to the way he smiled, because she had missed it, seeing no reason to go back to it. He had always had that arrogant, self-assured smile, but there was just something a little bit different this time, something she just didn't immediately pick up on.

"See something you like, perhaps?"

His calm voice sent chills up her spine, her eyes wide as she realized that the beautiful whisper had escaped from the same full lips she had just been admiring, now set into a deep smirk she was just so familiar with. It took her a moment to process how long she had been staring at him, noting the all too obvious differences, wondering if she had been wrong and this wasn't the beautiful boy she had known years ago – though how someone had the same exact name, she wasn't even sure.

"N-no," she whispered back quickly, finally realizing that the class had already begun and that she was much better off looking at the front of the class than the boy next to her, still caught on how his voice had sounded when he had spoken – like smooth velvet. In the back of her mind, she remembered wishing he could speak again, just so she could listen once more.

The teacher must have asked a question. She missed it. She was lost in her comparisons, her wonderings and the inward debate in her head. She was trying to think of a logical reason why she should hold a grudge against the boy next to her who obviously didn't remember who she was – if he didn't 

remember, did it honestly matter? Maybe his annoying tendencies were out of the way now. Maybe, just maybe, he had changed, just like the differences in his face, and most importantly, his smile.

"Miss Swan?" the teacher pressed impatiently, and she bit down on her lip hard, her fists clenched under the desk. Her attention had never been more scattered – Jessica gave her a bewildered stare. There was usually nothing that stumped her in this class. After years of being second best, she had begun taking pride at being the top of this class.

"I-I…I, don't know the answer," she murmured. Even after he had repeated it she couldn't compete what it meant, her racing mind throwing out the scientific question for much more important musings, like if Edward's hair was as soft as it looked. She had never managed to actually touch the reddish-brown locks, after all.

Then she heard the velvet voice again, the one she had been wishing so desperately to hear again, the sound that was much more like singing than anything else, something she had never heard before – at first she smiled. She was completely content just listening to his voice, calm and collected; perfectly cool, perfectly smooth and pleasantly quiet that, at first, she didn't wrap her head around what he was saying, or even why he was speaking. She was just wondering if she'd notice if she turned her head, just to see how those full lips moved when he spoke.

"Very good, Mr. Masen."

That's when the sinking feeling came – he had answered her question. Just like always, he had beat her at something that she had formerly thought she was best at. She saw Mike's wide eyes, and slowly, very slowly, the anger slipped in. Of course he was the same exact person he was years ago, except now he was the only one who remembered their dysfunctional relationship from years ago – which, in her mind, made it worse. But how could he not remember, when he was still so annoyingly perfect? And how could she not see how he was, although good-looking in a different way, the same?

That's when she heard it. The same smooth voice, the beautiful musical song that now made her clench her teeth. It took a moment to comprehend what he was saying first, because she was much too caught up in her own thoughts, trying to make sense of this conversation, battling with herself inside.

"Hey, no hard feelings, Isabella. We're all shooting stars, remember?" he whispered, and she suddenly realized how close he was, his chair leaned towards her. "Some of happen to shine just a little bit brighter. It's not your fault, really."

That's when she saw it again – that stupid crooked grin of his that he always gave right after he spoke something like that, and this time, her heart lurched in her chest, because she remembered those words perfectly. She remembered her first and only Italian class, an after-school club that opted to teach Italian, which wasn't offered at the time to be taught as an elective class. She had decided to go for it, always finding Italian to be a beautiful language – and, after all, the food was delicious.

He was there. At first seeing that boy in the classroom was a shock, but once she processed it, she knew that she should have expected it. After all, he was everywhere. He was always doing everything just a little bit better than her, so of course she expected him to be amazing and a natural at the romance language while everyone else in the class stuttered and tried to speak with an accent, while getting over their squeaky new ninth grade voices.

She remembered exactly what her teacher had said after she had grinded her teeth together, her hands clenched tightly into fists on the top of the desk – he had just spoken, his voice not so deep at the time, in a perfect Italian accent. Did he do these things just to annoy her, to try to be better at her?

"Not to worry, Isabella. We all are stars – some of just shoot a bit higher, shine a bit brighter. You'll find your niche."

She had not found her niche. She had her high points, but just when she thought she'd found it, there he was, doing it just a bit better, just a bit faster, just a bit clearer, just a bit stronger, just a bit longer, just a bit louder, just a bit sweeter, just a bit shorter. He was her bitter rival, her worst enemy, and of course she should have expected to hear those words come from his full lips now, his deep voice making her voice, accented in a mimicked, but at the same time, perfect Italian that just confirmed this. Why was she starting to think any different?

"You remember," she managed to whisper, her voice nearly a low hiss as she turned to him, her eyes narrowed, angrier than she thought she would have been – why was she bothered by this so much?

He opened his mouth to speak again, but the loud bell interrupted him. The class was over? Where had the time gone? She remembered it starting, remembered the teacher's babbling in the background of her head, going a mile a minute, shooting off a hundred different theories and variations of memories she had of him, and suddenly, it was over. How long had she been sitting there, fuming and damning the undeniably beautiful boy next to her to hell? After all, he hadn't changed a bit. He couldn't even give her a small advantage and have an outbreak of acne, oh no – though, on his perfect, angel-like face, she doubted a few pimples would do much damage. Someone might just ask him to model for an acne cream commercial, and give him free products. Just one thing he would be better at, then, though she wondered if she would mind so much.

Edward grinned wide, crooked and breathtaking, and then he took her hand. He tried to figure out why he was taking her hand, why his warm, sweet breath was suddenly so close to her face, why his hand had hers in a firm grip. Then she realized he was bringing it to those full lips, her eyes wide, her legs like jelly, instantly becoming panicky – he had never done this before. Back in grade school, she had never had to deal with these feelings, and the way his lips felt as they touched the skin of her hand …

"It's a pleasure meeting you again, Isabella," he spoke her name in the same Italian accent, the one he mocked, but still managed to get out like a native from the country. She realized than just how hot her cheeks were, and the obvious fact that even after a few lingering moments, he had not dropped her hand. Finally, when they were the last ones in the classroom, he dropped her limp hand, giving her that same arrogant smile. "See you next period."

Next period. Next period? What was next period? She couldn't think, frozen in spot. She couldn't move. Was she melting, on the verge of bursting into flames, and was that really her heart, pounding in her chest? Was it possible to feel the way she was feeling – inevitable infatuation and extreme hatred at the same time, was that even normal?

"Yo, Bells!"

It took no more than a second to recognize the deep voice behind her, and instantly a grin spread over her features, despite her current mood. Before she could process it she was being lifted into the air and set, her legs wrapped around someone's waist, hoisted up on someone's shoulders. "Emmett," she giggled, rolling her eyes, "put me down before I pull your hair."

"Ooh, scary," her friend chuckled, putting her down like she said anyway, "not my hair, Bella. Rosie finally showed me how to use the curler right." There was another, high soprano giggle, like a thousand bells ringing in harmony, and she turned her head, smiling and hugging her other friend. Finally, some sense in this world, her two best friends.

"Hey, Alice," she greeted her other best friend, hugging the pixie-like, black-haired girl tightly. Her friend was giving her an odd look, and she felt her eyebrow rising in question, but Emmett laughed, breaking her questioning stare.

"Alice's wondering the same thing as me. What was that?" he questioned, his voice incredulous, and she finally realized that they had been standing there the whole time, and that they were still in the classroom in question – her cheeks heated up all over again, causing Alice to grin as she began walking, 

her gait much more like dancing, out of the classroom, Emmett following shortly after, she moving almost zombie-like behind him.

"What was what?" she stuttered quietly, trying to find a possible way to change the subject. It was more than obvious, she was guessing, that there was something more there. Did strangers kiss people's hands? Perhaps strange, foreign strangers from different countries, but Edward wasn't a foreign exchange student – unless they didn't know that? Maybe if she played her cards right…

"The eye sex, Bella," Alice mumbled, rolling her eyes as if it was obvious, "the kissing of the hand and the way he made love to you with his eyes. Jeez, we thought he wasn't interested in girls, the way he kept turning them down when they came up to him on the way here…" Obviously she did not know Edward.

"Wait, what?" I managed to get, ignoring her obvious teasing, deciding to jump on her for that later. "What did you say about… coming up to him on the way here? You mean you know Edward?"

Alice laughed, nodding her head simply, and Emmett nodded his head too, a huge grin on his face. It was he who answered, shrugging his large shoulders as he began to walk backwards, twirling the football he had been holding between his arms on a finger – she rolled her eyes at the swooning girls visible behind him. "Yeah, he's our new step bro. Mom and Dad wanted another, but you know about Mom…"

I nodded my head simply, not wanting to get into the sad story about why Emmett and Alice's mother, Alice's adoptive mother in truth, Esme couldn't conceive a child after Emmett. It really wasn't a happy story, and it was a shame, because the gentle woman really was an inborn mother. It was a shame she had to adopt such a person like Edward – she glared at the thought of him mixing in with her favorite family, suddenly realizing what this meant – every time she was there, he would be there, too. Her eyes widened in horror.

"No. No. No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! Oh, no!"

She completely ignored the odd looks she got from both her friends. She had been dreaming. God, this had to be some sick joke. How many sins had she made? She must be a terrible person to deserve this cruel and unjust punishment, after all.



French class. And there were a bunch of similar thoughts going through her mind like in Biology, like, when the hell did he change so much, but still remain so much the same? And how did he manage to have a perfect French accent, and when the hell had he decided to take French? Italian, French, what else did he know? Did he speak Spanish, too? Was he just created absolutely perfect, good at absolutely everything he did, or was it just her who was extremely plain and good at absolutely nothing?

She despised her teacher at this moment, not like she ever liked her French teacher. She had instructed the students to have full conversations with each other in French, and that's when she realized that the world was just against her today. Of course she ended up paired with him again, because of course that just made perfect sense. In the past the world had always found reason to put the two together all the time as well, so it wasn't so much of a surprise. She should have known, and she should have expected it, the way his velvet voice sounded as they spoke the French words, making them just so much smoother and clear, perfect, as opposed to her flawed, stuttered words.

They had been going at it for a few minutes back and forth, and she was quite proud that she hadn't been lacking a response once. The mischievous glint in his eyes told her he was taking this just the way that she was, a contest. It was through her anger that she finally realized he was leaning closer, so close that she could once again smell his sweet breath, feel it against her face; it was then he realized he was unnecessarily leaning to whisper into her ear, and she was about to pull away, but then the words came out, "voulez-vouz couchez avec moi ce soir?"

Of course she knew what that meant – she had been studying French for two years, enough to know the basics, and enough to know exactly what that sentence meant and what it was asking. It wouldn't matter if she didn't understand, anyway, because the seductive, smooth tone of his voice paired with how impossibly close he was to her was enough implication that it wasn't asking her what her favorite color was, or something equally as mundane.

It took her a moment to realize he had pulled away and was now giving her that same grin again, obviously waiting for her to respond. Did he honestly expect her to respond to that in French? Was he serious? What was wrong with this picture, and why was her heart fluttering, demanding to be let out of her chest when she was supposed to hate this boy in front of her? Did she really hate him, and had she really given him a chance?

She noticed this time when he leaned in close, her breath hitching in her throat as he once again leaned into her ear, glancing quickly to the teacher's turned back. "It seems I win, again, ma cherie."

It took a long moment for her to realize she had been set up, perfectly and flawlessly, by the beautiful boy across the table from her.



Had she seriously considered not hating him for a moment?

One thing was absolutely certain in her anger fogged mind, and that was life in the small town of Forks was about to get increasingly interesting.

A/N: Haha, this story has been so fun to write. :) Edward/Bella rivalry is a lot of fun, and I gotta say, I love this competive Edward - anyone else feel the same way, or is it just me, 'cause I'm the writer? I dunno, probably. I'm a little insane, after all. :P

Okay, guys, because I realized this is confusing, lemme explain -

Alice is adopted by Esme and Carlisle, but Esme and Carlisle are the birth parents of Emmett - hah, different, I know. Edward is obviously adopted by them - haha, trouble, trouble. :) And, about the others, I guess you'll just have to wait up and see, huh? So, how did Edward end up in Forks? What trouble will he stir up with Bella? What will he do next? Oohhh.

Oh, right. Feel free to suggest, and comment, and...

If you don't realize by now I'm asking you very nicely to review then, eh. I've lost my touch. :P Pretty please with Edward on top?

:) Much love,

(Tu adores) Nicky