I do not own Twilight

Chapter 4

BPOV

Rose and I take our time strolling through the small grocery store we found about a mile from the bungalow. Armed with the list we made last night while under the influence of copious amounts of white wine, we carefully make our way down each aisle. I don't know how many glasses we'd consumed by the time Play-Doh and douche made the list, but I scratch them out and move on.

Loading up the cart, we grab everything necessary to keep ourselves nourished for at least a week. I have my survival foods—cereal, pizza rolls, maraschino cherries, etc.—and Rose has hers, which always includes packets of tuna fish. Lots and lots of tuna fish. We also pick out various meats and fresh seafood for the grill, as well as a few things for meals, salads, and of course, enough alcohol to keep us schnockered for days.

It's nearly 11:00 A.M. when we make it back to the beach house, and after putting away the groceries, we retreat to our respective rooms to change into our beachwear. Just as I'm tying the strings of the green bikini I picked up last week at the Walmart in Port Angeles, Rosalie glides into my room looking like a tropical goddess in the turquoise Brazilian bikini and matching sarong she ordered from Victoria's Secret.

"How do I look?" she asks, striking a pose that would put any of old Vicky's angels to shame.

I let out a loud whistle and hand her a bottle of SPF 50. "Heartbreakingly beautiful, as usual. Here, help me cake this crap on so I don't look like a Twizzler by the end of the day."

Guh, I will never be tan.

She helps me lather up, and we gather our beach essentials: iPod and dock, check, beach bag, check, cooler stuffed with plenty of Corona to drink and fruit to munch on, double check. It isn't long before we're stretched out side-by-side in a cabana, drinking an ice cold beer and soaking up more direct sunlight than the city of Forks will see all year.

The beach is nearly deserted, aside from a family in the distance who appear to be playing a game of volleyball.

I can get used to this.

V

EPOV

I pour myself a very hot, very black cup of coffee and head out the sliding glass door. Stepping onto the small patio, I take a seat and put my feet up, enjoying the incredible view as I stew in my misery. Last night was rough, to say the least, and I'm now paying a heavy price to the party gods. Emmett is still sleeping, and I have half a mind to waltz into his room and wake him up in the rudest manner possible. But I don't. I hurt entirely too much to do that idea any justice.

When I first opened my eyes this morning and saw the gooey-faced, blonde-haired stranger staring up at me, I knew I'd done it again. As smoothly as possible, I avoided kissing her and wiggled my way out of her arms. I then proceeded to hide in the bathroom for the next twenty minutes, figuring out how I was ever going to get rid of her.

As soon as I opened the bathroom door, she was on me like white on rice, trying to convince me to come back to bed. I quickly threw on my clothes and offered her a cup of coffee instead. She wasn't quite as into me after that.

Things grew increasingly awkward as she sat at the kitchen table and waited for her friend to emerge while I straightened up, washed some dishes, and did anything I could to avoid sitting down with her.

It wasn't too much longer before the sound of a female's voice carried down the hall from Emmett's room. I couldn't make out exactly what was being said, but I did hear a very clear and distinct asshole. Shortly after, his door flew opened, and a tall, hung-over redhead marched down the short hallway into the kitchen.

"Let's go, Jane," she snapped.

Emmett followed her out of the bedroom, holding a ball cap over his junk. He must've pissed her off mid-fuck, and I shuddered at the sight of his ugly, naked ass. My stomach was not prepared for that shit.

"Baby, don't go. Please! It was an accident," he pleaded.

"Right, you accidently don't remember my name. Fuck off, creep," she said, grabbing her purse and storming out the front door. The girl called Jane glared at me and took off after her friend.

When the door slammed shut, Emmett sighed, scratched his ass, and went back into his room while I downed a few aspirin with some orange juice straight from the carton. I attempted to watch TV for a while, but there was nothing on, and that's when I decided to come out here and get some fresh air.

The breeze is warm and salty, and the sun is shining brightly off the water. My eyes and head can hardly stand the intensity, but I force myself to endure it as punishment after the disaster I put myself through last night. Sipping my strong, dark elixir, I scan the beach. Music is playing from somewhere nearby, and a handful of people are out enjoying the morning, including a small group playing volleyball in the distance and what looks to be two women at the property next to ours lounging in a cabana. They have the shade pulled up, and all I can see poking out are two pairs of legs.

Two very beautiful pairs of legs.

Emmett interrupts my musing and takes the seat adjacent to me; thankfully, he had the good grace to put on a robe. He looks at me and shakes his head with a chuckle. "Man, last night . . ."

"Was a disaster," I finish for him and take another large drink of coffee just thinking about it.

"Disaster? Dude, were you there? Did you see that girl? She was smoking hot."

I choose to ignore him, refusing to go down this path right now.

We sit in silence, and for a few brief moments, all is calm. Good music is traveling through the air, and I actually take the time to enjoy my surroundings.

"So . . . how was the friend?" Emmett asks, and I rub my temples with a growl. His eyebrows shoot to his forehead, claiming innocence. "What?"

"Emmett, I never want to have to answer that question again in my life. I'm tired of this shit—all of it. The friend was horrible. The entire night was horrible." The pain in my head forces me to take it down a notch, and I wince as the blood pulses behind my eyes. "I can't be doomed to spend the rest of my life as your wingman. There's got to be something better out there."

Emmett snorts. "Like what? What do you want, a girlfriend?" He laughs, but his smile falls when I fail to respond. "Wait, really?"

"No. I don't know. Maybe . . ." I don't know what the hell I'm trying to say any more than Emmett does, but I continue anyway. "I just want something more than cheap fucks with random girls. It'd be nice to care about the person for once, you know? It'd be even nicer for someone to actually give a fuck about me, too." Emmett is looking at me as if I just told him I was a hermaphrodite, and I shake my head. "Forget it. I don't know what I'm saying. It's the hangover talking."

Sometimes, I think teaching quantum physics to a circus chimp would be easier than having a meaningful conversation with Em. How the hell he managed to pass the MCAT and make it into medical school is something I'll never understand.

He wants to be a gynecologist. Go figure.

"No, no, I get it. I guess I didn't realize you were ready for all that again. I mean, after Tanya, I never thought—"

"Yeah, I know," I say, cutting him off before the mention of my ex can make this migraine any worse than it already is. "I didn't know I was ready, either, but I am. It's just . . . this lifestyle isn't for me, Em. It never has been."

"Yeah, we had a good run, but you're no lifer. You gave it a hell of a shot, buddy. I give you an A for effort," he says, making me laugh despite myself. Emmett places a big hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry, E. You're gonna find someone great; you'll see. And you don't have to be my wingman anymore if you don't want to. I don't know how the hell I'll ever replace you, though. You're just so damn good at it," he says, and we laugh again.

"Thanks for understanding," I say, and now that I'm off the hook as Emmett's fellow man-whore, I feel lighter than I have in years.

Much to my surprise, he lets it go after that and stretches out in his seat with his hands behind his head. I'm beginning to think maybe I've been underestimating Emmett's moral capacity, but before I can blink, he's on his feet again.

"Whoa, legs, ten o'clock!" He turns to me, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Excellent, we have neighbors."

"No," I say flatly.

"No, what?"

"Forget it, Emmett. We are not banging the neighbors."

"You don't have to do anything. I'll just go over there and—"

"Not happening. I'm making it a rule right now."

Emmett crosses his arms. "A rule? There are no rules here. Why can't we bang the neighbors?"

"Because, the next morning, after they've figured out that they hate us, they aren't just going to jump into a car and drive away. They'll be walking twenty feet to the left, and I, for one, don't want to spend the rest of my vacation avoiding the beach. I mean it. No banging the neighbors."

"But what if they don't hate us in the morning this time?"

"They always hate us in the morning, Em," I mutter, completely drained. Distracted by the fairer sex, whatever moment of clarity Emmett was displaying earlier is long gone.

He thinks about it for a moment longer and then scowls because he knows I'm right. "Seriously, Edward, you could ruin a wet dream."

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Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading! I love reading your reviews, so keep 'em coming! Now, don't worry. I'm sure everyone can guess whose legs Ed and Em were staring at, and in the next chapter, everyone will finally figure out who their neighbors are. Stay tuned to see how it all goes down!

Big thanks to Fran for betaing, and I can't wait to see you all next week!

XOXO,

AshesAshes