A/N: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. However, I, under the penname listed above, do own this story, plot and its variations. I prefer it not to be plagiarized and thank you in advance.

thank you to quothme, who catches all my shoutouts to the movie, even when I don' t know I've made them.
thank you to quothme, yes twice, because that's how many drafts I sent and how many times she edited this for me.

kellyjaxn made me a banner! Check it out on my profile page. There's a continuation of this a/n below (oh joy) but right now, let's get (it) on with the longest chapter yet (that's not saying much, but still.)


Chapter 3

Carmen was a certainly a coup. But Edward didn't stop there. He might as well have been Cullen the Conqueror, the ultimate soldier of seduction.

His reconnaissance was his molasses smile, slow and suspiciously sweet, sneaking up on his prey and coating their minds with thoughts of his taste, his smell, his feel. His cavalry was his body, the way his tight, taut waist tapered into long, lean legs, the way he carried his six feet of height with the regality of an emperor. And his infantry, oh his wondrous infantry—his clever, candid hands, his long, thin, almost feminine fingers, agents of the touch that no woman could resist.

And though she was trying with all her might, Bella Swan was discovering that she wasn't the exception. She stood outside the classroom and took a deep breath. It was probably the last calm breath she would be able to take for the next 45 minutes until the sweet, sensuous torture of being Edward Cullen's lab partner was over. Bracing herself, she stepped into the classroom and walked straight to her table before she let herself look at Edward.

He was perfectly… well, perfect. Clean white sneakers, dark jeans hugging his lovely long legs and a dark gray henley that was just the right degree of snug—these were the perfect garnishes as Bella's eyes feasted on his golden, taut skin and autumn-leaf colored hair. As her eyes traveled up, she was startled to meet his gaze. He hadn't fixed his signature slow-burn stare on her. He was looking at her rather sweetly, his smile broad in genuineness.

"Good morning, Bella," he said. She quietly returned the greeting before looking at the lab table and letting her hair fall forward. More than genetics or cellular biology, Bella had learned that when it came to Edward she had a bit of a staring problem. One lesson, upon catching her mid-stare, Edward had teasingly commented, "Contrary to popular belief, you can't just stare my clothes off. It has to be done manually." With his lascivious, lopsided smile in place, he had reached down to yank his sweatshirt off (it had been extremely hot in the classroom), missing Bella's eyes grow so wide that they could have fallen out. In her mind's eye, it was a little like an animated scene—Edward was Jessica Rabbit and she was Roger, eyes popping comically out at the sight of a sliver of his concrete stomach. By the time Edward had pulled the sweatshirt off his head, Bella had quickly excused herself to Mr. Banner and run to the restroom. When she returned, Edward apologized for offending her, but she was so mortified that she could only give a non-committal shrug.

And so Bella was determined to stop looking at Edward, which was easier said than done. Edward had noticed that since his comment, Bella had seemed uncomfortable. He wanted to get Bella comfortable again and get her talking to him (also easier said than done). But he was determined.

Bella was important.

"What's this?" Bella asked warily, looking to see Edward smiling beatifically at her, palm outstretched and resting on the lab table.

"A dollar." His grin was impish and he looked more like a little boy than a sexual savant. As soon as Bella realized that she was noticing his smile, she jerked her head back down. She didn't reply.

"You're not going to ask me why I'm giving you a dollar?" Edward pressed. Bella simply shook her head, afraid of what she would say were she to reply. Something about Edward—this Edward—rendered her a babbling, wide-eyed idiot. Alternately, she was a mute marionette without anyone pulling on her strings. Neither was particularly appealing behavior as neither was really what Bella was like. So she chose silence.

"You're really not in the least bit curious that there's a chance I might be soliciting you?"

Bella looked at him in shock.

"Soliciting you for a good lab grade! Jeez, Bella what'd you think I meant?" The smile that accompanied his words was more mischievous than naughty and chipped the last of Bella's resolve of silence.

"Fine, Edward. Why do you have a dollar?" she said, trying to train her voice to be exasperated but instead sounding slightly amused. Which she was.

"I'm giving you a dollar for your thoughts," he announced.

"I believe the expression is a penny." She couldn't resist replying. He was, as in all other aspects, irresistible to talk to. And somehow, today Edward seemed less intimidating, more intimate—but in a non-sexual way. It was in the way he leaned slightly into Bella without disrupting her space, how he held and broke eye contact at intervals, how he never lost his smile and his smile never lost its sincerity. Most importantly, however, he hadn't started taking off his clothes.

"Well, I think your thoughts are worth more than that."

"Certainly not a dollar."

"Overpriced?"

"Yes, it raises the bar too high." She was a sucker for witty repartee.

"Alright, a dime for your thoughts. Give me ten." Edward's smirk was glib not smug.

"Well, since you're such an enthusiastic customer, maybe I'll throw in one or two for free."

"Alright! A dozen for a dime. Hah! A dime, a dozen!"

"That's not quite what it means. You need to brush up on your sayings."

"Easier said than done."

"Enough with the idioms already!"

"People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. Or in this case, people who haven't spoken in weeks shouldn't criticize other people's speech. Especially if those other people influence their lab grades."

"I wasn't criticizing your speech," Bella replied, knowing that she absolutely had been.

"It's okay. I'll take you being mean over silence. A Bella in hand is worth two in the bush."

"A bird in hand…"

Edward continued as if he hadn't heard her. "But they do say silence is golden."

"Your idioms!"

"You're an idiom!" By now, Bella was cracking up. Edward had lowered his tone and tried adopt a voice akin to a Homer Simpson-like idiot. Bella thought she might have found the first thing he was terrible at.

Because it certainly wasn't biology. They raced through their lab, bantering and laughing. She couldn't remember the last time she had enjoyed a class so much. Only halfway through the period, Edward grabbed their lab and headed to the front of the room, telling Bella he was going to see if they could get out of class early since it was the last of the day and he had somewhere he had to be.

As he walked away, Bella felt a twinge of disappointment. She had a delightful time in the past thirty minutes. Then, like a sudden chill, she felt a second, more acute disappointment. In their past few Bio classes, Edward had been talkative and startlingly easy to get along with, but he hadn't been what Bella would have described as friendly. He had been more teasing, each sentence usually dripping with double entendre or made playful by a libidinous smile. He had never been so goofy, so open, so… adorable before. This Edward was so at odds with the smirking, strutting sex god and she had thoroughly enjoyed it. Yet… stories of his relentless, irresistible seduction had now become legendary. Surely it wasn't this sweet, quiet allure that got him all the girls. Bella couldn't help but suffer from grass-is-greener syndrome. Where was the raw sexual magnetism that (rumor had it) had made Victoria James haul him into the janitor's closet and have her wicked way with him?

Hell, even Ms. Platt was giggling like the schoolgirls she taught as Edward turned in their lab. He spoke a few words to her, sweet smile rendered just the right mix of flirtatious, dangerous and naughty by his typical eyebrow raise, before turning to Bella and waving as he exited the classroom.

His smile had gotten both of them out of class early. Courtesy of Ms. Platt, the school's most notorious disciplinarian. He could snort cocaine in the crowded cafeteria and worm his way out of detention, Bella thought, partly bitter, partly amused as she exited the room.

[-]

Of course, Edward did end up getting detention one time.

It all started when Rosalie Hale began to come into his shop class during her free period. She had long, blonde hair that hung over her breasts when she leaned forward. Her penchant for v-neck shirts and denim short shorts was the source of many a fantasy. And she was famous for her mouth—her whip-smart retorts being only the second reason. She was stunning, stubborn… and angry.

Hell hath no fury like a Hale scorned.

Three weeks prior, she had kneed Emmett right in his McCarty manhood in front of the whole school at lunch, after finding out from Lauren Mallory that he had strayed. Her brother, Henry, chose to sit with his other friends from then on. Jason Scott, the 'pro' to her 'con' in debate, skipped class the next day. Mike Newton, her lab partner, switched to 8th period Bio, and Mr. Varner didn't even question it when she told Ms. Young she'd like to spend her free periods in the auto-shop garage. In fact, it was possible that in the three weeks since she potentially ended the McCarty bloodline, no male had dared talk to her.

But then again, Edward Cullen was no mere male.

For three weeks, Rosalie had worked silently, not asking anyone to hand her so much as a wing nut. One day, Edward was trying to screw something—that is, he was trying to tighten a screw, but the grease on his hands was causing the wrench to slip from his grip. Impatient, Rosalie shouldered him out of the way, taking over and pushing him away by placing her hand flat on the center of his hard chest. Her middle finger fit perfectly in the open "v" of his button up. Upon making contact with the light dusting of hair at the top of his chest, she looked up, still tightening the screw with her other hand.

Edward's assured gold gaze met her bold blue one and held it.

Her hand on the engine kept moving in short arcs, continuing its ministrations.

Edward's hand covered the one Rosalie still held to his chest, the grease warm and slick between their joined flesh.

Her middle finger curled slightly, grazing his skin as she kept screwing.

He smirked, eyes narrowing slightly as the tip of his pliant, pink tongue peeked out between his perfect, pretty lips.

Suddenly, Rosalie stopped turning the wrench.

The screw was wound as tight as it would go.

Rumor has it, the only thing Rosalie ever said to him was his name. Which she screamed during lunch, so loudly that Mrs. Cope heard it in the office and came to see why Ms. Hale was making such a ruckus. And there Rosalie was, her back arched on the hood of the car she and Edward had been fixing, legs on his shoulders, being, in the words Mrs. Cope used to tell Ms. Gianna, "screwed right past heaven and into her next life."

Edward got detention for a week. Rosalie got even. Both made high school history.

And as far as Edward's punishment went? He started detention on Tuesday afternoon. On Wednesday morning, Ms. Gianna, the detention supervisor, put in an order for a new desk. When Superintendent Smith asked why she needed another desk despite the school providing new ones for all classrooms a few months prior, Ms. Gianna could only giggle. Edward was not in detention on Wednesday or ever again.

[-]

Bella was incredibly frustrated. She was by her locker during her free period, looking for a Calculus worksheet that she needed to complete today. Of course, it was nowhere in sight. So she was tearing through more than two years' worth of schoolwork, rifling through the notebooks and folders over and over again in the hopes that the worksheet might magically appear. As she was flipping through a folder mindlessly, a sheaf of papers caught her eye. The title read 'The Yeti, Abominable Snowman and other Avatars, by Edward Cullen and Bella Swan.' They had gotten an 'A' and apparently, Bella had felt the need to keep all the notes—even the ones in Edward's swirling cursive. One page was a list of potential topics—below stories on the varied mythos of vampires but above stories of werewolves was a tiny set of words, almost unreadable due to Edward's script. 'The Legends of Incubi and Succubus.' Bella smiled, remembering the old Edward's reaction to the conversation she'd manipulated him into. She wondered why Edward had even bothered to write down her suggested (and suggestive) topic. If she and Edward had been partnered on the project this year, the conversation would probably have gone…differently.

Shuffling through more papers, she came across a note card with six words written on it, 'I'm asking you to ask me', which took her back to a rather embarrassing incident last year. It had been a few days before the student council's latest brilliant idea—a Sadie Hawkins dance where the girls asked the guys. Some girls squealed over the opportunity. But Bella, Rose and Alice had referred to it as the Sadist Hawkins dance. She had been at her open locker when she realized she had dropped a page of notes a few feet back. She had scampered to reach them and had returned to find this note sitting on the top of the pile in her locker. With no signature. She had looked up and down the hallway and found it nearly empty—only a group of girls clustered around a locker and… Jasper Whitlock several feet away. Unbelievably, Jasper had then raised his hand and waved at her. For once, she had gotten over her shock quickly and raised her hand to wave back… when Irina Denali had brushed past her and into Jasper's arms. Bella had hid her head in her locker in mortification until she was sure they had left. And she never found out who left that note.

"Oh my god! No!" The caustic screech of Lauren Mallory brought Bella out of her reverie. The fact that they were talking about Rosalie kept her listening. "But, she hasn't even looked at a guy since she broke up with Emmett. Who was it?"

Jessica's reply caused a reaction in Bella that she had never felt. At first, she was impressed, admiration washing over her. But it was quickly replaced by outrage, racing through her veins—outrage that she refused to acknowledge was due in part to envy. The feelings pulsing through her were so intense, so overwhelming that she couldn't even celebrate that her assignment had magically appeared at last. Instead, she stewed all through the rest of the day, looking fraught and seeing nothing in her distant stare, until she burst through the double doors and out to the parking lot at the end of the day.

"Rosalie Hale!" Bella's voice carried into the car the minute she yanked the door open and slid into the front seat. "Tell me you didn't!"

"Jeez Bella, at least shut the door," Rose returned, sapphire eyes cool. Bella faltered, then turned and slammed the door shut. Alice poked her head between the two seats.

"Tell her you didn't what?" she asked, her onyx eyes swinging between the two girls like a pendulum. Bella resembled a child's doll, her cheeks peach from rushing into the car, her apple lips pursed in a straight line and her chocolate eyes narrowed and accusing. Even though she was leaning forward, her fist clenched and her mouth flinging confrontational words, her voice held none of the gusto and tenor of someone truly outraged.

"Tell me you didn't hook up with Edward Cullen in his car after school on Monday."

Rosalie didn't even flinch. Instead, she looked casually back at Alice, who was giving her best impression of a shocked, scandalized goldfish. While she was normally a soprano saxophone, tiny and high-pitched, Alice sometimes forwent the squeaks to mouth silently, eyes frantic, eyebrows scrunched, face taut on certain occasions—like now.

"At ease, Alice." Rosalie's tone was a verbal eye roll. "And Bella—I didn't hook up with Edward Cullen in his car after school." She barked at the two to put on their seatbelts, and Bella slumped, slightly mollified, back into her seat and complied. Rosalie shifted the cherry red convertible into gear and pulled out of the lot, nearly running over Eric Yorkie, wheels pealing at the same pitch as Alice's recovered laugh.

When the car was a sufficient distance away from the school, Rosalie glanced at her passengers. Bella appeared enraptured at the sight of Forks' foliage, her fury fleeting as always, and Alice was humming quietly as she texted. Rosalie's left eyebrow was quirked high on her smooth forehead. The stage was set, and Rosalie was nothing if not dramatic.

"I didn't hook up with Edward Cullen in his car after school. I had sex with Edward Cullen on the hood of the truck we were fixing in the auto-shop garage during lunch. Mrs. Cope walked in and would've expelled us both if I hadn't fake cried and started telling her about how an evil boy broke my heart and how I just wanted to feel loved again," she stated, detachedly and evenly, not acknowledging how true her statement was.

Alice looked like she was bobbing for apples.

Bella, on the other hand, was approaching outrage.

"But you said—Edward Cullen—how much—that's where—did Mrs. Cope see—at lunch—how did—what—" Bella spluttered, big brown eyes wide with astonishment, brows pulled together in irritation at her inability to articulate her astonished anger. Finally she settled with, "On the hood of a truck?"

Rose smirked.

But Bella wasn't done. Not by a long shot. Her inability to discern her own feelings toward Edward were frustrating. On one hand, his promiscuity irritated the dormant feminist in her, but she couldn't deny how delicious he was. And then, after that biology class a few weeks ago, she had just begun to find him as appealing in personality as in appearance. She had been waiting for another chance to encounter that Edward but unfortunately they hadn't had any labs in the last several weeks and she hadn't been able to talk to him. Now, that hope was fading away with the realization that he had sex with one of her best friends… the amalgamation of teenage angst, hormones, envy towards Rosalie and her unflagging, unholy attraction to Edward were reaching fever pitch, and Rose's admission was the perfect segue. With all the coherency of her previous sentence, Bella began berating Rosalie for acting no different than that floozy Lauren Mallory and all of Edward Cullen's other conquests by giving into him and his strange sexual mojo (yes, Rose did snort in disbelief when Bella uttered that phrase). But Rose said nothing, sensing that there was something more to her friend's nonsensical and misplaced tirade until—

"How was it?" Alice asked. Bella shut up immediately.

Without warning, Rosalie swerved the car onto a nearly deserted road that led to an abandoned water tank. She revved the engine and shifted smoothly into third gear, jerking Bella and Alice into their seats. She upshifted again into fourth, accelerating the car further, ignoring the terrified look on Bella's face in her peripheral vision. Her eyes didn't wander from the road, her entire body singularly focused on driving, finally shifting into fifth with a devilish smile. The engine roared, brown and green blurs whizzing as the momentum buzzed through the entire car.

Just as suddenly, she jerked off the road and slammed on the brakes, cutting the steering wheel to the left and using the centripetal force to complete a dizzying, exhilarating 180-turn that brought the car to a standstill on the road.

Bella and Alice stared at her as if she was out of her mind, but the look on their faces said it all. They were panting, whooshes of breath unheard over the blood rushing through their ears. Their pulse was flying, their adrenaline was soaring and their eyes were aloft with a shiny excitement.

"Yeah," Rosalie said, answering Alice's question. "It was like that."

Without another word, she drove back onto the main road and toward Bella's house. Immediately, her foot began to itch—she craved speed again. She pressed down on the clutch, preparing to shift into the third gear and zoom off, when suddenly, she decelerated. Bella and Alice watched, mouths agape, as a car in the next lane came up fast and overtook her.

Rose never let anyone overtake her. Ever. As the car in front zoomed forward, Bella swiveled to see if she could identify it.

It was a shiny, silver Volvo.

Bella's eyes slid to Rose, who immediately began fiddling with her GPS system as if she hadn't driven to Bella's house innumerable times. In that moment, Bella knew. Edward Cullen was not normal. Normal guys didn't wrangle kisses from Carmen Webber. Normal guys didn't overtake Rosalie Hale. Normal guys didn't look like their every movement should be filmed in slow motion.

She was going to expose Edward Cullen. For whatever he was.

[-]

Feel it, hear it, closing in around you...

in this darkness which you know you cannot fight.

[-]


A/n: I write this on Twilighted but not here, so I'm going to start. As always, most importantly thank you for reading. Those of you who review especially and even those of you who don't, thanks for being a big part (the audience) of my little story. I'm really bad with replying to reviews ( but I always reply to PMs) but I really want you to know how much you all mean to me.

Also, if you found yourself liking Roseward, check out TheHeartofLifeIsGood's Long Way Back Home. Her one shot won one of the categories for the First Time Writer's Challenge and it's a great character exploration.