Characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. "Mexican Wine" belongs to Fountains of Wayne.

Jessica Stanley

Because the sun still shines in the summertime
I'll be yours if you'll be mine

There she was again, getting her heart in a frenzy by the most gorgeous guy in the world. Seriously, Edward Cullen was touching Bella just a tad bit too much! No wonder the girl blushes all the time. I wonder how far they've gone...

What I would give to have him support me by the waist, wherever I go... Feel his sure to be warm lips kiss mine hungrily, with as much force as his sculpted muscles would allow... Dear god, if only every man was an Edward Cullen!

I sighed, escaping my vivid dreams of his pale skin, and those eyes, all the while resenting Bella Swan for ever coming to Forks. Mike Newton, my on and off boyfriend, sat beside me, watching my every move. But I was neither shallow nor stupid. I wasn't the queen of gossip for nothing. If anyone was to know who someone likes in Forks High, I would be the first one.

And right now, my boyfriend was drooling over Bella Swan, the luckiest girl on the planet. For some reason, the handsomest guy on the planet saw something special in her. I have not figured out her secret. She was reserved and excessively thoughtful; some things that did not describe me.

The school bell rang, signaling the beginning of classes. Another boring Monday, with the occasional downpour, as expected of this small town. But, I've lived here since birth, and have grown used to the gloomy surroundings, and the many shades of green.

Mike and I have also known each other since childhood. So it was no surprise to our mothers when we started dating.

Jumping out of my car, I grabbed my books from the back and hurried toward the building.

"Jess!" Mike called, having just got out, and pulled his hood up.

"Hurry!" I yelled over the accumulating rain. I'd forgotten my jacket, and my curly hair, now wet, was sure to frizz even more. "Great," I muttered.

He saw this, and immediately shrugged off his coat. I was surprised by his chivalry, but before I could protest—which I was not about to do—he placed them on my shoulders, gathering my hair quickly so it'd be hidden under the hood.

"Thanks," he smiled at the sincerity of my voice, and led me inside. Before we entered the classroom, I pulled his face down and kissed him. Short and sweet, just like how our relationship was being throughout out whole charade.

When I pulled back, he gave me a quick hug. His rugby shirt was drenched on the shoulders, and his face was a bit sticky to where the gel dripped down from his hair.

"Ms. Stanley! Mr. Newton! Cut that out!" Coach Clapp, our gym teacher, shouted from down the hall. Mike gave a short laugh, but we quickly ducked our heads and went to English class.

We were reading Hamlet, so there was more reason to hate this class. I scribbled hearts on my notebook, occasionally writing Mike's name, and then mine.

"Psst," Mike whispered aside. I gave him a narrowed look, and pretended to be engrossed by Shakespeare's "beautiful imagery" and "incomparable metaphors"—or so the teacher describes.

"Jess," Mike whispered again. It sounded like a hiss, so I did the same, hoping he'd leave me alone.

I had nothing against Mike—I've been crushing on him since sophomore year. Ever since he'd gelled his hair in that spiky way, I've been smitten.

Actually, that was a lie. Ever since Edward Cullen had rejected me countless times ("I'm sorry, Jessica, but I'm just not interested in a relationship—and that includes dating. At least not some time soon." "Well, when will you be interested?" "Not now. Please understand that.") I've learned to set my eyes on someone else: Mike Newton, teenage heartthrob, blue-eyed cutie, and all around good guy.

"Psst!"

"What!" I shouted just a little too loud. Mrs. Lafferty glared. I gulped.

"Ms. Stanley," Mrs. Lafferty smiled calmly—coldly, "Was there something you wanted to share with the class?" Her eyes were stainless steel swords—silver and penetrating.

"N-no Mrs. Lafferty."

"Well, in that case," her voice never wavered from that sweet, cloying tone, "why don't you give me a summary of what happened in last night's reading?"

Crap. "Umm... Well, I remember there was plenty imagery, and those metaphors were incomparable..."

Beside me, Mike raised an eyebrow. I gave him a look, and he instantly retreated into the confines of his red folder.

I tried to change
But I changed my mind
Think I'll have another glass of
Mexican Wine

"Mike, stop!" I playfully scolded, swatting his hand away from my waist. I didn't know how long we'd been here, but I ended up lying on the couch, with Mike on top of me.

I could see his grin, and his eyes were glinted with mischief.

His incomprehensible murmurs tickled my neck. I gasped at the feeling, the want that was overtaking me. God, Mike can be hot. I leaned my head back on the armrest, letting the heat spread through my body.

"Mike," I mumbled, finding it hard to speak clearly. "My mom's gonna be home in a bit."

He looked up, and the messy disarray that was his hair got caught in his blue eyes.

"Ow!" He immediately tore himself away from me, standing up and blinking.

"Are you alright?" I exclaimed, standing up as well. He had tears dripping down the right side of his face, and if possible, his pink eye made him look all the more cuter. "Mike, stop rubbing your eye."

He didn't listen, just tried to poke away the hair from his eye. I huffed, and sat back down. If he was not going to follow me, then he can cry himself to blindness.

"It won't go away!" He yelped in pain again, and the stomp of his foot startled me from my bitterness.

I took both his hands away from his face, holding them against his sides. "Mike," I blew on the steadily tearing eye. "Relax. You're not dying. It's just a piece of hair."

Mike sniffed, but nodded. "It's gone now." Then he blushed crazy. I noticed he was looking at anywhere but me. "Sorry about that," he muttered, and placed himself on the couch.

Sighing dreamily, I followed his action, only I sat about a foot away from him. To anyone, it would've looked as if we were avoiding each other in the confinement of the love seat. But honestly, we were just giving each other the space, the 'alone time', that we healthily needed.

I found myself waiting for Mom to come opening the door, her keys jingling with the bag of groceries she always brought home. Lately Mike and I have found ourselves filling time with awkward silences, when I would fantasize about my dream boyfriend. No doubt he was thinking along the same lines (with a girl, of course—I don't think he rolls like that).

Exhaling dejectedly, I leaned my head lazily on the armrest. Just another afternoon with Mike... But of course, if anybody asked, I would tell them "I hung out with Mike the other day, and we just... you know, did our stuff."

"Jessica?"

"Yes, Mike? What. Is. It?"

"Do you even like me?"

My head snapped up to his direction. "Of course I like you, Mike." It was the truth. "But, I don't know, it's a weird attraction, this thing I feel."

He was smiling painfully, if such a thing was possible. His hands were on top of his legs, as if restraining from doing anything else. He was looking at his lap, and then he looked at me. "I think I know how that feels," he said carefully. "And I want us to work, and I do like you a lot, but we don't know how."

I blinked. Was he saying that we didn't know how to have a relationship?

"Oh," my surprise was not hidden at all. "But I don't want to break up with you." Ultimate truth be told, I hated being alone worse than I hated being with Mike. "You're annoying, but sometimes I like you like that."

He was confused, and so was I, at my statement. I wanted to slap myself at my stupidity.

"Well that was harsh," he sounded taken aback as he felt. Color stained my cheeks, and I tried to rectify. But he held his hand up, brushing my comment off. "But I like your honesty. You say it like it is."

"That's a good thing?" I muttered. Mike scooted closer to me, a gesture I assumed was to comfort me.

He placed his hands on my shoulders. My back was turned to him, because I faced away. Mike just leaned his head on my right shoulder, touching our faces together.

"Of course it's a good thing," he whispered. "You get this pretty face when you find something out. You're a curious creature."

I must have blushed like a tomato, and I smiled. He thought I was pretty?

"Do you really mean that?" Maybe he googled 'compliments'. Mike was not a romantic.

He didn't say anything, just pulled me back so we were pressed together. I was then somehow sitting on his lap.

I giggled. "Mike, you're like a chair." He too laughed, and he wrapped his arms around my stomach to keep me in place.

Not being able to fully turn my head to face him, I settled for licking the exposed cheek of his glowing face.

"A very sexy chair," I whispered. I was stroking his ego, but Mike's confidence only equaled fun.

"So..." Mike mused, kissing down my neck, never letting go if my body. "When did you say your mom's coming home?"

My breath hitched when he hit that soft spot on my ear. "Do you have a thing for my mom?" I joked, but then a new worry came over me. No, Mike definitely does not roll like that.

He laughed openly, creating vibrations in my ear. "Never mind I asked. Let's just continue to where we were."