For the rest of the week things progress kinda weirdly. Edward starts picking me up for school in the mornings without being asked to. And while I'm growing used to the fact that he seems to think it's ok to just roll up at my place and demand dates and stuff, what I'm not prepared for is being sucked in to the bizarre world of the Cullen clan.

Because, turns out Edward's family convoy.

First morning after the enlightening dinner he rolls up in the Volvo and beeps his horn, much to Charlie's joy – a combination of being glad he didn't have to take me putting my muddy boots all over his precious fucking cruiser and clappy hands excitement at me having good, respectable friends - but it's only once I've got in and griped a bit about the situation that I notice that not only is Alice sitting in the back seat with a grin the size of Alabama plastered over her face but a great big fuck off jeep is idling down on the street with Emmett at the wheel and Rose, who appears to be filing her nails, in the passenger seat.

"If I wanted a fucking escort I'd have got Charlie to take me in the cruiser," I moan, waving pathetically to the jeep.

"Aw, Emmett's just excited Bella," Alice grins, leaning right over so she's literally squeezing between the front seats, "he likes you."

"You say that like it's a good thing," Edward elbows her back in to her seat.

"You're always so mean to Em, you don't know how lucky you are to have such great brothers." Alice sounds kind of wistful but I don't want to pry. Well, I totally want to pry but know that I oughtn't.

"Do you guys always pick Rose up?"

"Rose?" Edward frowns at my question and glances in the rear view, "oh right. No, she lives at our place."

"She lives with you, why?"

"It's kind of a long story," I watch Edward chew his bottom lip in concern and wonder why the hell he doesn't want to talk about it. And then I get kind of distracted by the fact that he smells all shower fresh and his hair's still wet and…

"Her parents threw her out," Alice pipes up from the back seat, like she could hardly wait to spill, "ooh, you guys should have plenty to talk about."

"Alice!" Edward shakes his head at me, "I'm so sorry Bella, Alice can be very tactless."

"It's fine. I guess us unwanted children probably should form some sort of alliance."

"I didn't mean…" Alice begins.

"Forget it."

We drive the rest of the way in silence, Edward glowering at Alice and me wondering just how much weirder the Cullens can get and whether I can get away with sniffing Edward's hair a little bit before we get out of the car.

"What are you doing Bella?" Edward shifts away towards the door as he pulls in to the Forks High car park and switches off the engine.

"Nothing! I mean, you just have a little bit of…" I pretend to pluck some fluff or something out of his hair, like the total fucking retard I am.

"K," he nods doubtfully, opening his door, "seems as though you were smelling me."

"As if I…huh…why would I…" I uselessly stutter, all indignant even though he can't hear me because, of fucking course, he's on his way to open my door.

I beat him to it, flinging the Volvo's passenger door open triumphantly. And, because I, Isabella Marie Swan, am completely incapable of doing anything without causing some kind of damage to somebody or something, hitting him right in the fucking face with it.

"Shit!" I yell, getting caught up in the seatbelt as I try to get to him. But instead of getting free I just get more tangled, cursing loudly as I attempt to get the fucking thing off of me. I think I've got it and make to get out of the car to see Edward, who's cupping his face in both hands and all doubled over like he's in real pain, but somehow I find myself on the blacktop, the seatbelt still very firmly looped around my only just recovered and now possibly out of action again ankle.

"Oh my god guys, are you ok?" Alice, who had gotten out of the car well ahead of us, is over to me in seconds, helping me up and checking that I'm ok.

While Emmett almost wets his fucking pants laughing at the spectacle and Rose just looks on, apparently appalled at my idiocy – fair point – Alice and Jasper start steering Edward and I towards the school nurse.

"Whadda hell were you doin Bella?" Edward gasps. His voice is all nasal and there's blood dripping from between his cupped hands.

"Opening the door?" I shrug, timidly.

The school nurse ushers us in to the little disinfectant smelling room and looks us both up and down. Then without a word she disappears again. I take a pew on the invalid bed and Edward leans over the sink, sort of groaning.

A few seconds later the nurse bustles back in, leaving the three of us with minimal fucking room to breathe, something that Edward's having a little trouble with already, especially since she's started shoving cotton wool balls up his nostrils.

"I think it's just a sprain," I say, hoping that I can get the hell out of there, the combination of blood and the gross Betadine stench is making me feel nauseous.

"Even so, I'd like Dr Cullen to take a look at it," she smiles back over her shoulder.

"By Dad's gummin?" Edward asks and I do my best not to giggle at his fucked up voice.

"It's either that or you go to the hospital," she replies sternly, "now go wait outside."

She ushers us back out to where Alice and Jasper are still waiting, like we need chaperones or palliative care or some shit.

"Ah, you look a mess man," Jasper drawls, trying to keep the smile off his face.

"Danks Jasber," Edward tries to look pissed but with half a roll of cotton wool up his nose and his voice like it is he doesn't pull it off.

"Hey Bella, look," Alice is bouncing from foot to foot and pointing at something on the school notice board.

Something the Cullen family need to know is that if it's on the school notice board it probably ain't all that interesting to me. Still, I wander over – I say wander, it's more the kind of Keyser Soze limp that'd make Kevin Spacey proud – to see what she's pointing at.

I look at the poster she's eagerly indicating. Then I look at her. She nods enthusiastically. I look back at the poster. I look around the poster to see if there's anything else she could have meant. Chess club…science fair…lost football boots…

"Cheerleading tryouts?" I ask, raising the eyebrow of doom.

"Sure," Alice chirrups, "I've got a whole lot of pep to put out there."

"No kidding."

"Try out with me Bella," she squeals, "it'll be so much fun."

I look at her with an expression that I hope suggests she's just grown an extra head, "Uh Alice," I whisper, "I don't know if you've noticed but I'm not all that…you know… 'go team!'"

"But I don't want to do it on my own," she pouts, looking to Jasper for help.

"It'd be a good way to meet people," he offers.

"Cheerleading people," I'm starting to think that these folk have seriously misjudged me.

"Please," she wheedles, grabbing both of my hands and sort of bouncing up and down as if she really need to pee, "please Bella, please please please?"

"Can't you get Rose to do it with you?"

"Be gad Ebbitt's nod ere," Edward says, pointing out my double entendre rather speedily. Alice ignores him.

"Rose wouldn't, she's too…well, it's not Rose's kind of thing Bella. Please! Pretty please with sugar on top!"

"What? Are we in elementary school now?" I quip, "look fine Alice, I'll go if it's going to shut you up. But don't blame me if my mere presence totally fucks up your chances. I don't know if you've noticed but I'm sadly deficient when it comes to pep. In fact just show me pom poms and I hurl like a bulimic after a muffin binge."

"Thank you," she nearly topples me over with the force of her hug – have I mentioned that she's really fucking strong for a pixie? "I'll love you forever for this Bella."

I only grumble in response and hop back to my seat.

"Seriously," she carries on, "you might even get to like it."

When Dr Cullen – Carlisle – turns up he quickly diagnoses me with a sprained ankle.

"Well that's my cheerleading career over before it's even begun," I mock grumble.

"What were you kids doing to get in to this mess?" he asks, pointing out the shocking state of my clothing, even more fucked up than it was before, and Edward's face which he's now checking out.

"Don't ask," I reply for us both, "let's just say that that condition we spoke about has struck again."

He nods sagely, recalling my concerns that I may be just a tad bit disabled but he keeps his rather luscious mouth firmly shut on the subject. I'm getting to like Dr Hot more and more by the day.

"Well Edward," he says, pressing on the bridge of his swollen and bruised nose, "this is definitely broken."

Ok, guilt isn't the word. I feel like a total fucking heel. I've smashed up Edward's pretty face with the door of his pretty car. He may never be the same again. Shit…he may even be (whisper it) ugly. Alright, so that's not likely, but he could definitely have a wonky hooter by the time the bandages his dad's slapping on his face come off.

"I'm so sorry," I wheedle, "I didn't mean to. Does it hurt a lot?"

"Id's kinda sore Bella, yeah," he mumbles, "bud id's ogay."

"I feel like a total shit – sorry Dr Cullen – what can I do to make it up to you?"

I know what he's going to say before he even opens his mouth and I wish I could reach right out and gather my words right back and jam them right where they came from. Think before you speak Bella.

"You gan gome oud on a dade wid be. A brober dade."

I scratch my head and fix my gaze on a point just above his head, my mind running through every possible way to get out of this. But I can't think of a fucking thing. And I broke the guy's nose.

"What? Sorry…erm, what was that?"

I can see Carlisle grinning even though he's got his back to me. Smug bastard.

"You heard be Bella. A dade," Edward's grinning. The nose can't be hurting that fucking bad.

I sigh, "I told you Edward I don't really date…"

"Ouch!" he complains, "gee dis dose really is hurdin!"

"Ok! Fine!" I fling my arms up in the air in surrender, "one date, but nothing fancy bucko."

"Ogay," he grins, pretending it doesn't hurt even though I can see him flinch, "I'll dee you donide ad eighd?"

"Tonight?" I begin but, well, fuck it, how bad can it be? "fine. Eight."

And lo and behold, at three minutes to eight he's at the front door, chatting to Charlie, who's got one hand on his gun while he eyes Edward.

See, turns out Edward Cullen was a-frickin-ok for a friend but anyone dating the Chief's daughter gets an eyeful of his weapon.

"Let's go before he shows you the cuffs," I grimace, trying not to look at Edward's bandaged up nose which is really fucking hard 'cause it's a total state.

"You're wearing that are you Bells?" Charlie asks, all dubious like. I look down at my ripped skinnies and black tshirt. At least I worked a pair of heels in to the look. Black studded ones maybe, but heels nonetheless.

"Yes Dad, I am. Why? Have you been hired as the next Stacy London?"

"Who?" he queries, "actually Bells never mind. You kids go have a great time."

Charlie meanders in the general direction of ESPN, shaking his head.

"Sorry about him."

"Why? He seems pretty cool," I'm quite pleased to note that Edward no longer sounds like he's holding his nose.

I ignore him, deciding that even I can't quite reach the levels of sarcasm required to respond to the statement that my father is 'pretty cool.'

"Where are we going then?" I ask, wondering what the hell there could actually be to do round Forks when it comes to dating. From what I can tell dates usually require some kind of destination, something that this town is seriously lacking in. Along with fun and sunshine.

"Port Angeles," Edward replies, glancing at me with that heart melting, thigh clenching smile that, by the way, is totally unaffected by the comedy bandage, "wait and see."

We travel the hour to Port Angeles in relative silence. I'm kind of happy just to stare out the window at the trees and the – big fucking surprise – lashing rain and just sitting quietly with Edward is weirdly soothing. Usually I'll make sarcastic comments and jibes to fill the silence with anybody but Charlie.

He pulls in to a spot outside a coffee shop on the corner of E 1st Street and Lincoln. We unstrap and both hesitate.

"Uh, Bella," he half smiles, "do you want to open your own door?"

"What? Worried I'll break something else?" I ask, not admitting that I was waiting for him to open the door for me, fearing a repeat of the morning's Laurel and Hardy-esque charade.

"You do kind of seem on a mission to knock me down."

"Yeah," I grimace, opening my door but not before checking for pedestrians because you never fucking know, right? "I don't know whether you noticed but I'm kinda clumsy."

"Does that mean you accept responsibility for running in to me at the surgery?" he asks, taking my hand. I'm not too keen on the whole hand-in-hand thing but just his touching me is doing funny things to my stomach so I let it slide.

"Does it fuck," I retort, "that was all you. So you bought me to Port Angeles just for coffee?"

He shakes his head and leads me inside the not all that special looking joint. The lights are dimmed and there are a shit ton of people crammed on couches and perched on chairs, all looking at someone shuffling papers and arranging themselves on a stool. I can't tell if it's a dude or a girl but he/she definitely has a seriously shiny head.

"What would you like?" Edward asks, steering me to the last remaining table with a pretty restricted view of ol' Spalding.

I order a two shot Americano and set about trying to work out what the hell is going on.

"Cool skin, warm blood…" the bald person who, it turns out, is a woman has started reciting something in to the microphone.

I look around to see if anybody else is finding this weird but no, they're all in total silence watching her.

"My body hits the ground with a mighty thud,"

Edward slides a cup of steaming coffee across at me and I throw him a questioning look. He just grins with this whole 'isn't this great' thing going on.

"What is this?" I hiss, but he just shakes his head and nods to the stage.

"The rose of my heart shrinking from a bloom to a bud…"

So this is definitely something to do with bad poetry. I'm not sure I can sit through baldy's contrived fucking rhymes for any length of time.

But everybody else seems to be loving her work, she finishes with something about being buried in mud and the crowd erupts in to wild applause, like she's the Lady fucking Gaga of poetry.

"Have you never been to a Poetry Slam?" Edward asked, sipping his latte.

I shrugged, "nah, in Phoenix we go to dates in pizza parlours and cinemas."

"I thought you didn't date?"

"I don't but I at least know that normal people just go and watch movies for their first dates."

"First date? First implies there'll be more…" he comments, breaking out the pant melting smile.

I ignore him and turn to look at the next performer clambering on stage, hiding my blush behind my hair. Long hair is very useful at times.

This guy is much better. He speaks with this French accent and has long, lush dreadlocks and this awesome retro ruffled shirt under a long leather coat that he doesn't take off even though it's hot as the devil's ass in this place.

I watch in awe of his ability to twist words, curling them in to each other in his low, heavily accented drawl. It looks as though he's improvising, just moving with a beat in his head, plucking rhymes from the air.

"Indecision
stay…or go
moving through a mind of black
of white…
gray.

"Kneeling silently…
pray
waiting for the answer
for words…
like ribbons
decisions…"

"Bella?" Edward whispers.

"What?"

"Are you ok?" He's moved his chair around the table and is sitting next to me now.

"Sure…shhh," I hush him, ticked right off because I'm trying to listen.

He leans over and places his fingers under my chin, pushing upwards. My mouth closes with a snap. Ok, so I've been sitting here like some fucking mouth breather, gawping at the stage.

When the dreadlocked poet bows deeply and I join the rest of the crowd in jumping to my feet, clapping like an overexcited sealion at the circus.

We watch a few more acts but most are pretty lame. Edward notices me getting fidgety and bored – man, he's good – and places a tentative hand on my knee. I ignore the urge to respond by grabbing his crotch.

"D'you want to get something to eat?" he asks and I nod enthusiastically. I hadn't noticed that I was horse-eating hungry. Perhaps it was the shouting my stomach was doing that alerted him to my need for sustenance.

When we're settled in a little Italian restaurant, me throwing mushroom ravioli down my gullet like I haven't eaten in a week, we have the first conversation of the date. It's a moment I've been putting off knowing that as soon as I open my mouth my foot will be heading in right behind the pasta.

"So, are you having an okay time?" he asks, pushing his spaghetti around his plate, refusing to look at me.

"Sure," I say, "the poetry thing was interesting."

"Interesting good?"

I grin and pretend to consider my answer carefully, he still won't look at me.

"Yes Edward, it was great. Thank you."

"The movies didn't seem like enough for you," and I'm not kidding, he starts to blush. It shouldn't be cute but it totally is.

"I am kinda gutted you didn't fly me out to Paris for dinner. Seriously, you're probably right, I'd have totally freaked if you'd have pulled the old popcorn trick on me…"

"The old popcorn trick?"

"Never mind, you just stay there in Pleasantville honey," I pat his hand in a sarcastic manner.

Truthfully I'm absolutely shitting myself with excitement. So the poetry slam was bizarre but Edward's right, I'm not the dinner and movies type. This evening has been ok. It's been more than ok, it's been great.

"Your first real foray in to the world of dating wasn't a complete disaster?"

"Wasn't? Are we talking in the past tense already?"

A huge smile spreads across his face and, at the risk of sounding like an Austen heroine, I swear to the lord above my heart stops. This is the problem see, I don't do relationships and in truth Renee is probably right – not that I'm gonna admit that to her – I need a bit of boy-free time after all that happened back in Phoenix. But Edward…I could seriously fall for him. Fuck it, I've totally fallen for him already.

"I promised Charlie I'd have you back at a reasonable hour."

I check my watch, it's after eleven, "shoot. Yeah, we should probably get back before he starts loading his gun."

Even though Edward drives like a bat out of hell on the way back it's well after midnight by the time we're standing on the porch and I can see the distinct outline of Charlie through the glazing in the door.

For the first time I feel nervous when faced with a boy-shaped human being. I've never, ever been in a goodnight kiss scenario before and it's giving me the sweats.

It's idiotic really, it's not like I haven't kissed the guy before. Hell, I was sensible to fear legal repercussions of our first physical encounter – I nearly ate him alive. It's just that I've never done any of this stuff the right way round and for the first time I'm the one on the damn back foot. It'd be so much fucking easier if I didn't like the boy.

"Well, thanks for agreeing to come out with me Bella," he smiles, "I had a nice time."

Nice. Fucking thanks.

"Yeah, me too Edward. Not that I had much choice," I reach up and poke at his bandaged nose.

"Shit!" he bats my hand away, and shields his face.

"Oh god, I'm such a retard," I groan, edging closer to the door through which I can increasingly pointed thumping about, "are you ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, forget it, could've happened to anybody…"

"No Edward, it couldn't." Still, it was nice of him to pretend.

He roars with an unexpectedly raucous laugh, "you're right. You are the biggest klutz I've ever met Bella."

I push my bottom lip out in a pout – it's either mad sexy or makes me look like I'm doing a bad impression of Mick Jagger.

Maybe Edward has a thing for stringy septuagenarian rockers, maybe not, but it totally does the trick. He runs his thumb over my lip and pulls me towards him.

My heart's thumping out of my chest as he leans down and plants a slow, gentle kiss on me.

I'm about to make like a bitch in heat and start humping his leg when the door behind us starts rattling. I leap a foot in the air and put as much distance between myself and Edward as the porch allows just as Charlie wanders out in a pair of sagging grey boxers and nasty thermal vest, a big toe sticking out the end of one disgusting old tartan slipper.

"Oh, hey Bells," he feigns surprise, "Edward. You kids having a good time?"

"Sure. Something we can do for you Dad?"

"No, no," he shakes his head, "just taking the trash out," he indicates a half full trash bag in one hand.

"Right, and that requires a gun does it?"

He quickly leans round the door and hangs the shooter back on its hook, muttering something about wolves.

Edward's shifting from foot to foot while Charlie stands there with no obvious intention of moving.

"So, I guess I'll be on my way," he says, backing away, "thanks for tonight Bella."

"Yeah, see you at school tomorrow. Thanks for the dinner Edward."

Once again Charlie wrecks my entirely impure intentions.

"Hey Bella, are you excited about today? I'm totally pumped!"

"Uh, I wouldn't say excited was the word," I reply as I slip in to Edward's car Friday morning to be greeted by an even bouncier than usual Alice, her hair pulled in to an elaborate array of tiny gem studded knots, her ass barely touching the seat.

The morning pick up has become a regular thing apparently but, thank God, Emmett hasn't considered it necessary to follow us at close quarters every morning, although he and Rosalie seemed to think awaiting our arrival in the parking lot is a must.

"What're you wearing for it?" she asks, and I indicate my old jeans and hoodie with a flourish. For once Alice Cullen is lost for words.

"Why?"

She recovers her composure, "lucky for you I've come prepared," she pats the oversized holdall sharing the back seat, "you can't wear that to a cheerleading tryout."

I've tried several times to explain to her that I have no fucking intention of actually getting in to the cheerleading squad but Alice really doesn't seem to listen to anything I say. Mostly she just smiles serenely at me and says 'okay Bella' whenever I start on one of my anti-pompom tirades.

I eye the bag with suspicion, "what's in there Alice?"

Edward starts laughing and can't get his breath to give me any hint. He's still wheezing when I leave him in the hall to go to English class.

I'm not sure whether I liked it better when I only had suspicions about what the hell was in that damn Nike branded receptacle of horror.

"I look like a fucking stripper," I complain tugging at the scrap of material Alice calls a skirt, looking around the changing room at the other equally scantily clad girls, who seem rather less concerned about showing the world their labia.

"You look awesome Swan, quit your whinging," she snaps, forcing me down on a bench so she can fix my hair.

Let's get this straight – yes, I can be a little bit prone to the odd overreaction. However in this instance I am not even slightly being unreasonable when I say that a whore is more adequately covered than I am right now.

As if the spray-on tank she's squeezed me in to wasn't enough, Alice has coupled it with a totally indecent skirt. And not only is it ass-showing indecent but it has sequins. Pink fucking sequins. Oh and the very same sequins make a wonderful trim for the elementary school style long socks. It's not even cute in a harajuku girl way.

"Where the hell did you get this shit from anyway?" I ask her – she's wearing the same outfit, only hers is pink with black sequins. Not having the full pink regalia is the only thing I have to be grateful for right now.

"I made it of course," she trills, still pulling at my hair. I've given up trying to fight and now fully accept that she's trying to murder me using embarrassment as a weapon but I do feel kind of bad that I've been totally slagging her creations up til now.

"Wow," I say, "I didn't know you made clothes."

"Oh yeah, I'm going to be a fashion designer," she says breathlessly, "imagine! Alice Cullen: New York, Paris, London, Milan…"

"Cool."

"What do you want to be Bella?" she asks, twirling around to check my hair from the front and doing something fluffy at my bangs.

"Shit, I'll probably be the first female president of the United States. Or," I stand and give her a twirl before bending over and flipping my skirt up to wiggle my pink hotpant clad ass at her, "a pole dancer."

She does this laugh which, I kid not, is fucking musical, like ringing bells or some shit.

"Right ladies," Lauren Mallory – head cheerleader and major bitch – is standing in the doorway in her full cheerleading get up, holding a clipboard in the team colours, tapping her pen on it officiously, "let's move through to the gym."

Just as we file past, Alice skipping all the way, she grabs me by the arm.

"Hi Lauren," I plaster a smile on my face to keep myself from sneering at her, "how are you?"

"Look Bella," she whispers, leaning towards me, "are you really sure you want to do this? You know, cheerleading's very demanding, it requires a certain grace…"

She trails off, smiling at me sympathetically, her head on the side like she's just told me I'm terminal. Which isn't strictly wrong.

"Doesn't being head cheerleader require a certain level of…oh I don't know…not being a total bitch?" I retort. It's not the best comeback and I'm sure I'll think of a million better an hour from now but I'm satisfied that Lauren's mouth is all bunched up like a cat's asshole.

"Great start to your tryout Bella," she sneers, flipping her long blond ponytail over her shoulder and stalking off, "you'd do well to remember who's making the final selection."

I follow along after her, maybe making the odd snarky face behind her back but nobody can prove it, and enter the gym where Alice is lined up behind a whole row of equally perky girls, full of enthusiasm and wearing increasingly garish make up.

"Are you sure I have to do this?" I ask Alice from the side of my mouth.

"Have you got anything better to do?" she asks.

"String myself up from the nearest rafter?"

"Come on Bella," she soothes, looping her arm through mine, "I'll be your best friend forever if you do this for me!"

"Alice, that's exactly what I'm afraid of," I scowl as the first wannabe steps up in front of Lauren and her cronies.

A/N: poetry is very much NOT for my forte, I shan't apologise. The coffee shop I based the one above on is called The Veela Cafe in Port Angeles and, it turned out after I picked it, is next to the Dazzled by Twilight store. Coincidence or the guiding hand of Edward? Who knows...pleeeease review, even if it's to tell me how shite I am EQ x