Chapter 3

Rock That Body

AN: I'm so sorry for the long wait! Excuse is school, and exams... All over now, and am on holiday for a leisurely two months, so hopefully will update a lot more!

Soundtrack: Rock That Body – the Black Eyed Peas, Sexy Bitch – David Guetta ft. Akon, Que Sera - Wax Tailor.

Bella's POV

Following my rather unsettling encounter with Edward Cullen, I decided my unusual reaction to him must have been due to some underlying tension in me. And any underlying tension in any hormonal teenage girl is usually due to sexual frustration.

Which is why, as soon as I drop dinner off at Charlie's, I'm heading out of town. It's a Friday night, and what do teenagers do on Friday nights? They party.

Port Angeles is the closest thing with any clubs, and a quick surf on the net reveals that a new place has opened in the centre called Twilight. A few pictures satisfy my curiosity, and I type the address into my phone.

I dress quickly, wanting to get to Charlie's before he gets home from his shift. A quick make-up top up, and I'm out of the house. At Charlie's, I leave the meal in the fridge, and scribble some detailed instructions as to how to heat up the food without burning the house down. I even go as far as unplugging the TV and hiding the lead to ensure he doesn't get caught up in the latest game. My last instruction reads: 'Text me when the food is out of the oven and the oven is off. I'll text you the location of the TV lead'.

I smile at my detail, and get up to leave. Once safe inside my car, I put on my latest feel-good playlist, raise the volume till my ears feel blown away, and drive.

I arrive in Port Angeles around eight. It's still too early to surface at the club without looking like a loner, so I head to the nearest bookshop to kill some time. An hour later, and my perusal has led to several new purchases – namely a book entitled High Fidelity by Nick Hornby, and several copies of the Economist, a political magazine. I immerse myself in them, seated in one of the plush sofas the bookshop offers, and am captivated by the end of the first chapter. I love books – and I love the books to which I feel some sort of emotional connection to. And I can tell this is one of them. The raw writing of the story teller reminds so me much of myself. I hate sugar coating things. Just tell it like it is people.

Nine o'clock rolls around, and I make my way to the club. I park the car across the street, in full view of the already developing queue for the club. I spot the bouncer over the sea of heads, and make eye contact easily as all eyes are turned towards me following my Aston's loud entrance. I smile lightly, and he gestures for me to skip the queue. I wink as I breeze past him, a smug grin slipping onto my face as the people in the queue shift, irritated.

The club is nice. It's too new to be great in my opinion, as I generally prefer clubs that have been worn in, but it'll easily be fantastic in a couple of month's time. It's packed, and the music pumps loudly through the speakers. The DJ podium is near the bar, so I make my way over to the corner nearest the jockey. I order a vodka tonic, and as I wait, complement the choice of song. The guy smiles at me, so I introduce myself, and shake his hand. Matthew – a fairly non-descript name for a DJ, and I tell him as much. He laughs. The guy's cute, but I cut the conversation once my drink is downed, and hint at seeing him later. He looks enthusiastic – one guy in the bag already. Before I leave I ask for a song – he agrees easily. It's a good song at the moment, so it's easy for him to say yes without fearing for his job. I've managed to kill two birds with one stone – hear a song I like, and make the guy feel accomplished and useful.

I make my way to the centre of the dance floor as he mixes Akon's 'Sexy Bitch' in. If there's ever a place to get distracted from the turmoil of everyday life, it's here. Right in the middle of the dance floor. Amidst the sweaty bodies and pulsing beat, I lose myself in the music and let the stress from life go, just for a minute.

Edward POV

Rosalie conference calls us all to let us know we're hitting a new club in Port Angeles this evening. There is no invitation – it's a merely a demand. None of us complain – we've all come to the silent agreement that Rose is our resident social planner.

So at eight we pile into Emmett's jeep and commence the hour drive to PA. We invited Felix and Jane Volturi along with us, simply because they're great fun on a night out. A little too bitchy to be good friends, but fun all the same, and they make for an easy ride. Alice sits between Felix and I in the back, whilst Jane who lives in Port Angeles plans to meet us there. I don't participate much in the conversation until Felix makes a pass at Alice, and I bristle.

'So pixie girl, any lucky guy yet?'

Alice laughs lightly at the obvious insinuation, brushing him off with a simple wave of the hand.

'Cause if you need one, look no further sweets...'

I laugh loudly, and Felix's head snaps towards me. He laughs too, although obviously not understanding the joke.

'It's just funny, imagining you with any girl for any length of time, Volturi,' I snort, keeping my tone light, but heavy with implication.

He acquiesces, and the conversation moves on to Jane's adventures at college in Port Angeles. The danger removed, I let my mind drift once more. It flitters to my conversation with Alice this afternoon.

'It's just not healthy Alice!'

Her agonized cry has my resolve to pursue this line of conversation crumbling.

'I know! Okay, I know, I can't help it though...'

She sits curved into herself in the middle of her giant bed, looking frail and vulnerable. I make my way over, and wrap my arms around her silently, holding her as she cries tearlessly.

'He's just perfect, y'know? He's exactly what I want to balance me out – big, and over-protective, and funny, and light, the exact opposite to me, the tiny, fragile, complicated Alice...' her voice trails off.

'I know. I'm sorry,' I mumble into her hair.

'But he's with Rose. So I have to get over it. And the thing this afternoon, when I got all weird? He told her he loved her. He whispered it to her as we walked into AP physics. And the look on his face was just priceless... I just wish someone would say that to me...'

'I love you,' I tell her.

She sighs, a big heavy sigh.

'I know you do, but I meant someone that isn't you or Esme or Carlisle. Don't get me wrong, I'm eternally grateful for what you guys have done for me, but sometimes I wish there was someone who would tell me they love me, despite knowing my complicated background and problems, and who wasn't related to me.'

I look at my lovely little cousin on my right, and sigh. Wishing there was something I could do to take away all her problems. All her pain...

She pokes me in the ribs then, silently, and mouths 'smile' at me. I do. For her.

The club is what I expect – new, flashy, with prospects. Rosalie's father knows the owner, who's been asked to let us in immediately. The bouncer gestures for us to make our way inside, despite the groans of the long queue behind us. We're obviously not the first to be granted this privilege.

There's a booth reserved for us in the VIP section, and Emmett ambles to the bar to collect the drinks. I go with him, and we make small talk as we wait.

'Cool place huh?'

I nod in reply, as we stare at the massive crowd on the dance floor.

'So how's Alice, man?'

The question doesn't surprise me. Emmett makes a point of regularly asking how things are going, ever since the accident two years ago. Although he hasn't been debriefed as to the entire situation, he's aware things were shaky for a while. Little does he know they still are – and I'd like to keep it that way.

So I shrug, and smile.

'Yeah, good,' I tell him.

He smiles, appeased and ignorant, and turns to pay the bartender. Or rather hand him the pass that allows us unlimited free drinks for the rest of the evening – again, courtesy of Rosalie's dad.

I'm brought out of my contemplation of how best to thank Mr Hale by Emmett's low whistle.

'Dude, isn't that the newbie?'

My mind seems to immediately zone in on the word 'newbie', and my head swivels around against my will to focus on the girl in the middle of the dance floor.

I like her like this, I decide. She seems so much more at ease amongst the sea of strangers surrounding her than she does amidst the hormonal teenagers at our school. Seeing her at school, I would call her attractive and beautiful. But seeing her here – so lost and comfortable in her own skin, I would call her lovely and sexy. She's wearing a backless emerald green dress, revealing a supple and elegant neck and back, shimmering with a thin sheen of beady sweat. Her long hair is piled on the top of her head in a loose up-do, wisps escaping as she sways to the beat, curling around her face in the humidity of the club. Her cheeks are flushed, and a small smile graces her lips. She bites her lip, and I'm gone.

'Yo, man!'

Emmett shakes me roughly and I pull myself out of my reverie.

'Dude, you lost it there for a second,' he laughs, 'Shall we take these drinks to their destinations?'

I nod mutely, looking for the girl once more, but she has disappeared from the throngs of people. I force myself not to search for her, and focus on not spilling the drinks as we make our way back to the booth.

'Finally! We were worried they'd given you a hard time about the pass or something,' Felix says as we hand out the drinks. 'What happened to you guys?'

'Who the hell cares?' Rosalie interjects. 'Just give me my drink, I am dying for some alcohol over here.'

I find myself seated between Jane and Alice. The latter is conversing with Rosalie a propos the latest fashion, so I make small talk with Jane.

'How's college?' I ask politely.

She launches into an explanation of her course, the people, the campus, etc, etc... I listen half heartedly.

Jane Volturi. Never fit into the cheerleader category at Forks High, but was definitely popular. Everybody knew Jane Volturi, and everyone knew not to get on her bad side. She had a small group of friends who weren't half as popular as she was but had equally brilliant minds. If I could pick one word to describe her it would be cunning. She chose her friends for their lack of popularity which would boost her confidence, and for their similar deviousness and lack of genuine interest in her life. They were not burdensome friends for her to worry her pretty little head about. She associated with us because she and Rosalie remained good friends (as good as they could be as friends) and also because of our general popularity at Forks High. We were useful friends to her.

'So, how are you doing, Edward Cullen?'

The question takes me off guard. Jane doesn't usually feign interest in other people's lives.

'Oh, you know,' I shrug and send her a half-smile. 'Same old, same old.'

'And how's Alice?'

I really focus in on her now, for the first time tonight. Something about the way she asks the question has me suspicious. Her manner is altogether too casual and I assess her. Something in her eyes makes me feel ill at ease.

'Oh, you know,' I smile affectionately at Alice, who is chatting obliviously to Rosalie. 'She's happy, and has got good friends who look out for her. Emmett loves her and would kill anyone who looked at her the wrong way –' I interject a casual laugh here, although the threat is clear '- and she gets on well with Rosalie, as you can see.' Jane looks over to see the pair chatting happily, for once, and the look Jane carries that has me on edge seems to pass. For now.

I decide to completely remove the threat by turning on my full on charm, and ask her to dance. She smirks, and we ease our way on to the dance floor. Jane is quite tall, with straight blonde almost white hair, and icy blue eyes. She's pretty, although nothing out of the ordinary. I would not look at her twice if she passed me on the street.

The florescent lights reflect off the perspiration on the dancing bodies. The heat has everyone moving sluggishly, almost in slow motion. The dance floor is a mass of sweltering, sweaty bodies, with hands roaming and the music pulsing underneath our feet, until eventually, I'm no longer dancing with Jane, but with a mass group of people.

Something brushes my back, and the electric current from the warm body behind me has me swivel around.

Of course.

'Isabella Swan.'

It's not a question I pose her, it's a statement.

She pants slightly, and stares at me. The look in her eyes is hard to assess – confused? Awed? Shocked? Lustful? Maybe all in one?

Her breathy 'yes' has me immediately dismissing all logical thoughts of introductions and conversations fleeing my mind, and my body moves of its own accord. My brain seems to process the movements in slow motion, and I watch as my arms wrap their way around her small waist, my right hand encircling her toned thigh, and hitching it around my side, so that she rubs against me with every movement, and I her. We circle our hips against each other, and she throws her head back in a moan. My hand makes its way to her exposed neck, and runs its course down her chest making her gasp. Her hands move from their latent position at her sides to underneath my shirt, roaming freely. I lean towards her slowly, and seeing what I'm about to do, she pivots in my arms. This position has me groaning, as she rubs against me, thrashing her head from side to side in an entirely too erotic movement, revealing her bitten lip.

And then, suddenly it's all over. She's gone from my arms as quickly as she got there, and I almost believe it was a dream were it not for seeing her retreating quickly through the crowd. Frozen in shock from the entire interaction, I watch motionlessly as she makes her way to the exit. As she hits the door, she briefly turns and meets my eye. The expression has me all the more confused – it as at once yearning, confused and warning. And the warning is clear: stay away.

Bella's POV

I drive home distressed. My encounter with Edward has me reeling. Again.

I get home, and rush to my stereo, selecting 'Que Sera' by Wax Tailor. The indecisiveness of the song reflects my mood. I'm indecisive. Or perhaps indecisive is the wrong word – conflicted? I decide it's one of those days where there is not enough room for my thoughts inside my head, and pull out my notebook.

I make enough coffee to satisfy an army, take off all my makeup and slip into my sloppy clothes – trackies and a massive hoodie with my big geeky glasses – settle into the couch, and begin what will be a long entry with my two best friends: pen and paper.

R&R!

HBMuse

xoxo