CH 8 – Hit 'Em Up

"So you guys are just hooking up or what?" Twisted paper sticks to my lip as I inhale deeply. There's a crackle and a hiss and a plume in my throat. Weed is still disgusting. I thought maybe I'd get used to it, like Listerine or something, but it never gets any better. Jacob claims this is a new strain, supposed to taste like chocolate. I can never tell the difference. It all tastes like shit.

"I don't know, man. It's weird. She won't go out with me."

"What do you mean?" I ask and Jacob's pinching the roach between his massive fingertips, trying to get that last toke.

"I've asked Bella out six times. She's always got something going on. Track, homework, art class, work, family game night-"

"Wait, she has a job?" I ask and Jacob just shrugs.

"I don't know! She speaks in fucking metaphors, analogies and shit. I never know what the hell she's really talking about." He snuffs out the roach and pops it into his mouth. His wide lips stretch like a crocodile welcoming in little fishies.

"You're disgusting." I shake my head which fuels his pride. Jacob loves when he's the most at something, even if it's the most disgusting.

What's more perplexing is this Bella character. Not that it matters, really. She just makes me…curious. Like one of those block puzzles that looks really complicated, but once you know how to put it together, it's so simple. I can't figure out how to put her together and it bugs the shit out of me.

She's hooking up with Jacob but won't date him. Needless to say, this makes her about a billion times more attractive to Jacob. He loves a challenge and he hates that this chick is getting the best of him. This also makes her about a billion times more awesome. It's nice to see him get a swig of his own Kool-Aid, for a change.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. It's Rosalie. She calls me at four-fifteen every single day on her way home from tutoring. On days she's not volunteering, I pick her up and we find some place to fool around. School, the park, my car, Barnes and Noble. Mainly because they're open until eleven.

It's not like I can bring her here, with the camera crew and shit. Plus, I'm terrified of her talking to my parents. Mutually terrified. I don't want them to know the other exists. I don't want to explain to my parents that Rosalie isn't a girlfriend but just a chick I'm getting off with. I don't want to have to explain my parents to Rosalie. It's just too complicated and I'm fighting like hell to keep this simple.

"I gotta go," I say.

"I thought you weren't with her." Jacob smirks, a disgusting grin on his face and I shrug.

"I'm not with her always. Just sometimes." I laugh and Jake lets loose a booming chuckle, like a canon. Before he can say anything else, I put on my coat and walk out the door.

I drive carefully to Rosalie's, my head cloudy from the mid-afternoon high. I park in the driveway and notice it's empty. No parental supervision. Sweet.

I don't bother texting her and walk up to the door. I knock and she answers, her hair swept up in a bun and a pair of tortoise shell glasses settled on her nose. She's wearing the blue sweater again and a jean skirt with wool socks pulled up to her thigh. Goddamn, she has to know what this kind of shit does to me.

"Hey baby," she says and grabs my hand. She smells like vanilla and pencil shavings. "I made you cookies."

"That's awesome because I need a snack." I grin and try to kiss her but she pulls away.

"You smell like marijuana," she frowns and I close one eye.

"I was at Jacob's."

"Are you high? On a school day?" she asks and I shrug.

"I'm not not high," I laugh and she rolls her eyes. "What? Jacob had a joint and we shared it. Not a big deal."

"And then you drove here? You could have killed someone!" Rosalie stalks off to the kitchen and I stand in her dark hall. I sigh, tempted to just leave, but the smell of snickerdoodles wafting through the air is far too persuasive.

Before I can make my way to the kitchen, she's marching back into the hall. She looks irritated, probably because I didn't follow her.

"I'm just worried about your safety," she says and I prepare for a verbal lashing. Instead, she hands me a cookie. It's still warm and I sink my teeth into the sugary circle. It's soft and chewy, like a good snickerdoodle should be. She watches me eat, practically salivating at my response. It's giving me the creeps. I wonder if she thought we were going to share.

"You want a bite?" I offer, and she shakes her head no. She grabs my hand and marches me up the stairs. To her bedroom.

We pass an open door and I glance inside. The room is a disaster, album art plaster the walls, clothes and books litter the floor, a pair of muddy running shoes kicked off by the bed. There's a guitar and an art easel, a massive book shelf and a humming computer.

"Not that one," she says and we move to the second door.

I should have known. Rosalie's room is spotless. Her bed is covered in a white frilly comforter and about a hundred pillows. She has an old desk, probably antique, but it looks like it's been refinished. Her dresser matches the desk and lined up along the wood, there's half a dozen pewter butterflies with iridescent stained glass wings. She nudges one back into line, it's slightly crooked positioning disturbing the orderliness of the room. I don't know where to sit. Maybe I should have removed my shoes before stepping onto her carpet. Carpet with perfectly vacuum formed diamonds.

"So, Emmett is having a party this weekend and we should totally go," she says as she sits on her bed. Why would she think I'd go to Emmett's party? The thought is disturbing. Doesn't she know me at all? We don't really talk much, actually. There's a lot I don't know about her. I can't figure out if I like that or not.

"I know you and Emmett had that argument a while ago, but I think it would be really mature of you to show him that there's no hard feelings," she continues. She has no idea how hard my feelings are. "Besides, it's kind of a celebration for the decathletes. You know, because of our victory over Kennedy last weekend."

No, I did not know about said victory. I didn't even know she had a match. Or a meet. I don't know what the hell it's called.

"Whatever," I say and she grins. Whatever means okay in girl speak. I sit on her bed and she's playing with the lace of one of her pillows. The silence is stifling. So I clear my throat. She kicks off her shoes. I smile at her. She smiles back. It's fucking awkward.

Instead of trying to find something for us to discuss, I slide my hand up her skirt and we spend the next twenty minutes dry humping on her bed. She's on her back and I'm eating her out. She made me put a towel down first so we wouldn't ruin her bedspread. She keeps moving her hips and pulling at my hair and then I hear an exasperated sigh. Like she's annoyed or something.

"What's wrong?" I look up at her from between her legs and she's scowling at me.

"I have an idea," she says and then she's rolling over and pulling some fake dick out of her nightstand. "Here, use this."

She turns it on and this thing is swirling and buzzing, and I'm not really sure what she wants me to use it for. So I just start poking at her with it, rubbing it around her business and she starts really getting into it. She moans and calls me baby. Then she starts saying some crazy shit.

"Yeah, baby, fuck me with that dick." I don't know, maybe it would be hotter if I were actually fucking her with my dick. Instead, I'm using some reanimated hunk of gelatin plastic.

I move the thing around some more and she's swiveling her hips and then her hand folds over mine. She pushes my hand out of the way and she takes over. She's rubbing her clit and fucking herself with that fake penis and I'm not really sure what to do anymore.

So I'm sitting there on her bed while she's getting herself off and the whole time my dick is hard as a rock and pushing against the zipper of my pants. I figure if she's going to self service, I might as well whip it out and get a good rub on. I mean, I'd be a fool to pass up this live entertainment. It's like free porn.

My belts unlatched in a second, my pants quickly around my ankles and I start rubbing one out. I leave on my boxers because if I blow a load, it will be easier to clean up. She sees what I'm doing now and it must turn her on or something because the next thing I know, she's screaming and jerking around on the bed. This must be what her real orgasm looks like.

Seconds later, the show's over. She smiles at me and adjusts her skirt and with a kiss on the cheek she's in the bathroom cleaning up. I'm not about to spend the entire evening with a hard on, so I proceed as planned. But all my old "go-to" fantasies aren't working anymore. They all involve Rosalie, but the Rosalie that I didn't know. The Rosalie that didn't want me, that I couldn't have. And I realize, with a disturbing amount of panic and anxiety, that Rosalie doesn't really exist anymore.

I might never get off again!

I pack it up when I hear the shower in the bathroom running. I roll my eyes because with all her meticulous pretenses, Rosalie still doesn't know that I saw her fucking Emmett McCarty against the side of her house so many weeks ago.

"Look at him. He's fucking blown the closet wide open," Jake says. Mike sees us staring and gives a wave, twiddling his fingers and laughing with his new besties.

Apparently, Mike took our little argument as a personal challenge and has be fagging it up all over the place. He came out to his mom, but she wasn't really surprised. He's wearing skinny jeans and Converse and a t-shirt that I can see his nipples through. And now he hangs with the drama club. He auditioned for the school play and told everyone we're not friends anymore because I'm obsessed with him. I don't really care. I just want my friend back. He doesn't even look like he misses me at all.

"I'm just glad he's finally being honest. I'm glad I could help." Yeah, I'm taking full credit for Mike's happiness. If it hadn't been for me, he'd still be miserably pretending to be straight. I just wish he'd see it that way.

"Want to go bowling tonight?" Jake asks as he pops a tater tot into his mouth. "Bella wants to go bowling."

He rolls his eyes and despite his attitude, bowling does sound like fun. My mom used to be on a league back in the day. She was really good, too. Taught me everything she knows.

But I can't tonight. Tonight is princess preggo's opening of her play. There's no possible way I can get out of going. Not unless I plan on living the rest of my life without a head.

"Alice's play," I say and he nods.

"That's right! I'll tell Bella I have to go to her play. You're a lifesaver, man!" He claps my back just as I'm about to drink my Dr. Pepper.

"Do you want me to get you a ticket?" I ask and Jake looks at me like I'm insane.

"Dude, I'm not really going to the play. I'm just telling Bella I am." He grins and I don't blame him. I wouldn't be going if it were up to me either.

After school, however, he's in a panic.

"Fucking told Bella about that play. And now she wants to go."

"What did you say?" I ask him as we walk to my car.

"Well, I couldn't say no! Then she'd know I was lying. Can you get me two tickets? Is Rosalie going? Maybe we can ride together or something?" Shit, I hadn't planned on inviting Rosalie. My goal in life is to never have her in the same room with my parents.

"I'll work on it," I mumble.

"Thanks, man. If I get laid for this, I'll owe you big." Jake checks his hair in the window while I unlock the door and I almost want to laugh. There's no way in hell Bella's falling for this shit.

When I get home, both my parents are already there. Alice is wearing this long black dress with her hair all spiked up. She looks tortured, like a good artist should. She's pacing the kitchen, trying to make a sandwich and she's talking a mile a minute.

"I had to drive all the way into the city today so I could find this special light filter for the opening silhouette." Jasper takes the knife from her hand and I'm pretty sure she meant Jasper had to drive into the city. Seeing as how she doesn't have a vehicle any longer.

"It's cool, Mom. My teachers signed me out of class today so we could have rehearsal all day." Alice takes a huge bite of her turkey and pepperoncini sandwich. She's going to have heartburn later.

"Well, as long as you keep your grades up," my mom says and Alice nods. Alice doesn't give a shit about her grades. She's a C student, barely scrapes by. She said in the long run, her academic record really isn't going to help her career. She focuses on the important things, like avoiding stretch marks and method acting.

"We got everything squared away, though. Didn't we, babe?" Alice kisses Jasper's cheek and my mom closes her eyes.

"How was your day, honey?" My mom asks and it's quiet. Which makes sense. I'm not sure what else Alice could fit into her daily description. Although, we haven't heard about her bowel movements yet.

I open the fridge and almost laugh out loud at my own inner dialogue when I look up to see my mom staring at me.

"What? Me?" I ask and my mom nods, like it's so strange for her to ask me about my day. Judging from the look on Alice and Jasper's faces, it really is that strange.

I shrug and close the fridge. I don't know what she wants me to say.

"It was okay," I mumble and my mom has tears in her eyes. Like I've just said the most fascinating thing in the world.

"That's great honey, really, really great." She rushes to give me a hug and I'm starting to think she knows something I don't. Like she got a call from one of my brain doctors and I have a huge tumor. And I'm dying or something. They have to tell me that shit first, right?

"What's wrong with you?" I ask and she just shakes her head.

"Nothing, I'm just so happy you're happy." Her eyes are glittering.

"What the hell's going on here?" I'm starting to get pissed off. Who the hell does she think she is, with her patronizing as shit positive attitude?

"Nothing." She's coy, pretending to be innocent and now I know something's up. "Just that Alice told us about the special lady you have in your life."

Oh sweet zombie Jesus.

No wonder my mom looks like she wants to pee herself.

And how the hell did Alice find out about this?

Luckily, I don't even need to ask questions in this household. These people can't wait to divulge as much information as possible. The more they get to hear themselves speak, the better.

"Bella called me today. She said she's coming to the play. And that she's coming with you." Alice flashes one of her knowing smiles.

"I'm not dating Bella," I say and my mom's face falls.

"What? Why not?" she says with a pout and I almost want to hug her.

"Because Jake is. I'm kinda seeing her sister, Rosalie." I mumble the last part, hoping they'll be too distracted by the first part to notice the rest.

"What? Rosalie Hale?" Alice is squeaking this time and my mom claps her hand to her mouth. Wow, great vote of confidence there.

"Oh, honey. Rosalie is gorgeous! Good job, sweetheart," my mom says and I can't wait to get out of here. "She always was, though. Remember when you were kids? You had the biggest crush on her."

"Did not," I say and everyone laughs. Even Jasper. Like he was there. Asshole.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. She's a doll, and so brilliant too! Just a fine choice, son." My mom smiles and then touches my cheek.

"Yes, she's of fine breeding," I say with a bad accent and my mom rolls her eyes.

"You know what I mean." Yeah, I do know what she means and it's exactly what she means that bothers me. Like I couldn't get a girl like Rosalie Hale. Don't they know I'm the shit now? Near death experiences will do that for you.

We get ready to leave, and I'm sweating bullets. My parents want to wait for me, but I tell them to go on ahead. Get us seats, I say, like Alice's play is going to sell out the whole of Kennedy High Auditorium. Jake gets to my house and I'm about to puke, so we smoke a bowl and I feel better.

I drive the fifty yards down the street to pick up the girls. I pull into the icy driveway and Bella's out the door before I even turn off the ignition. She hops in the back seat, her rainbow hair speckled with melting snowflakes. It's almost a hazard.

"Hey," she bounces between the seats, breathless and shivering in her poofy coat. "Rose'll be out in a sec."

Jake climbs into the back over the center console, kicking me in the face in the process. Bella screeches and he's growling and I'm awkward.

Ten minutes later, Rosalie saunters out the door in a calf-length red wool coat and leather gloves. And heels. She's wearing heels in the snow, a big fuck you to the elements. She looks perfect. And nervous. It's kind of cute, that she's nervous. Rosalie Hale isn't ever nervous.

She floats into the front seat and kisses my cheek. There's no turning back now.

Rose blasts the heat to the point I think my skin's going to catch fire and Bella and Jake giggle like five year olds in the back seat. They're writing messages on my foggy window. Jake's probably drawing a dick. He can't draw anything else.

We get to Kennedy and Rosalie checks her makeup in the mirror, the leather of her glove smooths under her eye. She brushes her fingers through her long, golden hair and smiles to inspect her teeth and then turns to me expectantly. For approval.

"Your hair looks really pretty," I say and she beams and opens her door. The cold rushes in, icy flakes melting as they hit the heat.

"God, I hope this doesn't stick," she says as she pitters to the overhang and I slam my door shut. Bella's on my side, standing with her face tilted to the dark sky, her eyes closed.

"It feels like a thousand needles," she says, her eyes squeezed tight, a fog of exhale erupting around her face like a volcano.

"That sounds delightful, really." I laugh and she doesn't move.

"You have no idea," she murmurs.

"Hey, Edward. Check out my artwork," Jake says from the other side of the car and I don't bother. I know it's a dick. He just laughs and grabs Bella's waist and she comes alive. He hoists her onto his back and they run for cover.

Rosalie's waiting, her body shaking, her eyes darting from left to right and she takes my arm when I'm close enough. It's a short walk to the auditorium and the campus is buzzing with activity. The camera crew is here, and so is everyone else in the town. Even the mayor. They all want their five minutes. And Alice knows it. She might be smarter than I thought.

I see my parents down in the front and I'm shocked as hell to see them speaking with Mike and his new theater friends. He still looks like Mike, just in better clothes. That match. And he's not wearing his glasses anymore. He must have gotten contacts. And he cut his hair. It's all gelled and spiked. But he still looks like Mike.

"Mike!" Bella shouts at him and all his corduroy clad cronies sharply turn their angular jaws. He glares and my mom grins, my dad waves us over and my feet are filled with lead. I hope he leaves before we get down there.

He doesn't. Instead, he smiles at Bella and offers her an embrace. He picks her up, a big kiss on her cheek. I had no idea they were this…friendly.

He puts her down and nods a hello to the rest of us and it just feels weird. Like wax on your fingertip. You can only stand it for so long before you just crumble up the smooth mold and peel it away from your skin.

Apparently, Mike likes his new, smooth mold because he just hugs my mom and then he's gone. And I'm an asshole. Rosalie's tied to my arm but Bella's not one to wait around for silence to clot. Instead, she gently offers my mom a hug.

"Hi, Mrs. Masen. How are you?" Bella squeezes her and my mom is delighted. Rosalie looks destroyed. But it's only for an instant. She puts on her face, and she's embracing my mom.

"It's so nice to see you," Rosalie croons and my mom is charmed. Jake plops down in the nearest seat, his lack of enthusiasm evident in his entire aura. My dad is delighted, drooling for the opportunity to flap his gums at new ears.

"You know, we went to school with your dad and uncle. Played football with them both. Great guys, great guys," my dad says and I hope to God he doesn't go into another high school football story. "What are they doing these days?"

"Our dad's an investment advisor, at the credit union. And Uncle Charlie's in Washington." Rosalie seats herself next to my father and it looks as though they're made for each other.

"Tell them Ed Masen sends his regards. They were great guys, great guys," my dad rambles and luckily, the house lights flicker, indicating it's time to take our seats.

"Well, I've got the best seat in the house!" my dad exclaims. He's flanked by my mom and my kinda girlfriend. Yeah, that's not creepy at all.

Bella sits next to me and on her other side is Jake. Her knees are in her chest, her heels on the edge of her seat and Jake's arm's draped across her shoulders. I wonder if I should put my arm around Rosalie. Or hold her hand or something. But then I feel like my hand would be too close to my father and that's just weird.

I settle for leaning my elbow against hers on the armrest between us. She seems satisfied with this.

The play starts and we quickly learn that the protagonist, some psychic chick named Mary has developed this way of harvesting her predictions. She keeps them in this box and as long as the box is closed, they don't come true. But of course, there are these dumb ass kids who steal the box and open it. All the predictions come flying out and all this shit starts happening. It's actually a really good story. Just not for a cheesy high school auditorium.

The sets are like a Lady Gaga video, all futuristic yet vintage looking, like Alice couldn't make up her mind what time period she wanted to represent. I think she actually mentioned something about this, it's supposed to create a timeless effect. But really, it's just confusing. Anyway, by the end of it, Mary's gift is actually her curse and she's arrested for murder and conspiracy and shit. She's put into this mental institution and the last scene is her, all alone, hugging her box. But you never really find out if Mary is psychic or just psycho. It's creepy as all shit.

Damn, my sister's a dark, twisted fuck.

And the crowd goes wild.

Everyone's on their feet, cheering and whooping and hollering. Bella's crying and Rosalie's dabbing the makeup from under her eyes. My parents hug each other as the players bow. They bring out Alice and she waddles onto the stage in her black dress. There are roses in her arms and her eyes are glittering under the lights. She waves to the audience, blows a kiss and then the heavy red curtain falls and it's over.

After all the hoopla dies down, we head over to Denny's for appetizers and hot fudge sundaes. I order mozzerella sticks and Jake gets some bacon and cheddar skins. Bella orders an Oreo milkshake and Rose gets a Mr. Pibb. She's not hungry, she says, but she's talking a mile a minute about how profound Alice's statement was. She just keeps sipping her Mr. Pibb and making arrays with the tiny cups of coffee creamer.

I take a bite of the breaded melted cheese and heat explodes into my mouth. Fuck! I've singed off half my taste buds.

"Hot?" Bella asks me and I nod. She offers me her milkshake but I refuse. Instead, I suck down some ice water, trying to create a cooling force field of liquid around the magma now sizzling on my tongue.

Our waitress is Emily tonight, another one of Jake's cousins. She graduated two years ago and goes to the community college in town. She's trying to get her AA in restaurant management. Yeah, people still get their Associate's degree. I know, I was surprised by this information as well. It's cool though, she never charges us for drinks and we give her an extra big tip. Everybody wins.

"Everything okay here?" she asks as she brings out Jake's skins. I nod but can't talk yet and she laughs because you'd think I'd know better by now. "Can I get you another soda?"

Rosalie nods and pushes over her cup.

"What'd you have?"

"I don't know, Mr. Pibb or Dr. Pepper. Whatever, they all taste the same." Rosalie waves her off and I can't believe the words coming out of this chick's mouth.

"They do not all taste the same. Dr. Pepper is by far superior. I can't believe you can't tell the difference," I balk and Rosalie raises her eyebrows. Jake pushes away from the table. He's heard this argument before. He's aware of what's about to proceed.

"Oh my God, it's soda," Rosalie says in this snotty as shit attitude and for some reason, her tone of voice grates my nerves.

"It's not just soda. It's a quality beverage being compared with a cheap imitation created by a wealthy brand that didn't want to be upstaged by the little guy. Trust me, Mr. Pibb is no fucking doctor." Emily leaves the table with a roll of her eyes, but Bella looks enthralled. Like a small child seeing fireworks for the first time.

"Really," Rosalie says and the doubt is so thick it's hardening my arteries. "What's the difference then? What is so special about Dr. Pepper that makes it so superior to its cheap imitation?"

"Um, Dr. Pepper obviously went to medical school," I say and Rosalie narrows her eyes. Bella lets out a loud burst of laughter and then clasps her hand over her mouth. This makes me smile. But Rosalie doesn't think it's funny.

"You think making me look foolish is funny?" she asks sweetly. Does she really expect me to answer?

"I don't know," I say and Jake and Bella shrink away from the table.

"You're an asshole," Rosalie snips and I sigh.

"Rosie, come on. It was just a joke." Bella reaches across the table to try to grab her hand but Rosalie shrugs her off. Her glass clatters to the table and there's ice and Mr. Pibb in my lap.

"Fucking son-of-a-bitch!" I shout and I swear it's just an automatic response. I mean, there's fucking ice in my lap. In the middle of November. This could be catastrophic to my sperm count.

"No, fuck you, we're done!" Rosalie turns to stalk off and now there's soda dripping down my balls. Great. Now I have to go chasing after her with sticky crotch.

Or do I?

Actually, I don't have to chase her anymore. I don't have to chase anyone. They all chase me now.

And to tell you the truth, I don't really want to.

...

A/N:

I love the varied responses to Edward's behavior! You know, these high school years are for trying on personalities. I had about fifty of them. Thank you so much for reading and sharing your thoughts.

Also, thank you to the pimps out there who have been recommending this story. I don't know who you are, but I'm sending you virtual hugs. Can you feel it?

Boo prereads and Lightstardusting beta's. They're the wind beneath my wings.