A/N: i sprained my knee, so you get a new chapter p (and yes, spraining your knee IS possible. trust me. im more like bella than should be legal...or possible)

Song: Should've Said No - Taylor Swift

It was another one of those perfect cloudy days that had turned into a warm starry night. Adelaide enjoyed these most because she could spend all day with Scott, and neither one complained. They were sitting on her porch swing again, talking idly and picking out constellations.
"You never answered my question, you know." She mentioned.
"Which question would that be?" he asked, looking down at her.
"The one about why you glitter."
"I can't answer that one Addie."
"Everyone can always answer any question asked of them."
"How old are you Addie?"
"Eighteen."
"You're very wise for eighteen. It's almost like…you've been eighteen for a while now."
"Well, I've been eighteen since January 7th…" she responded, confused. Somehow she knew this wasn't what he meant. He laughed and ruffled her hair.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-one."
"You're still evading my question."
"You keep distracting me, it's your fault."
"Yeah, ok," Adelaide agreed sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
Scott laughed, pulled Adelaide closer, and kissed the top of her head. "Do you think we can stay like this forever Addie, just you and me?"
"If there is such a thing as forever…"
"And if there is?"
"Not a day less."

The next day Adelaide pulled into the parking lot of Olympic Outfitters in perfect bliss. She never would have guessed she would find happiness in the pathetic little town of Forks. As she walked up to the door, she happened to glance to her right and see Scott leaning against his Porsche. Assuming he was waiting for her, or talking to his sister Alice on the phone, Adelaide started to walk over. Only then did she see who he was talking too. She was tall, with long curly blonde hair that flowed to the middle of her back. She was wearing a mini skirt, pumps, and a camisole, he skin just as pale as Scott's. They were laughing, and the blonde playfully punched Scott's arm, then grabbed his hand. Adelaide was horrified to notice that Scott couldn't take his eyes off of her. The girl whispered something into his ear, and then his lips met hers. Hot tears filled Adelaide's horror struck eyes as her entire world came crashing down around her. Memories of promises once made raced through her mind as if on continuous play. I promise, Addie that will never happen again. I will never, under any circumstances, break your heart. Those very words had escaped his cool lips, making her believe him, making her believe it was finally ok to put down the walls around her heart. He had promised he spoke the truth. But if he had been telling the truth, why did she hear all the millions of pieces of her heart breaking as loud as a symphony in her ear?

Adelaide had never been one to think rationally when she got a sudden, overwhelming feeling, usually anger, flow through her. Grabbing the first decently heavy thing she could out of her car, which happened to be a stapler (how a stapler found its way into her car, she didn't know nor care), and threw it across the parking lot hitting Scott in the head. Unfazed by the blow to the head, Scott looked first to the broken stapler that lay upon the asphalt, then to Adelaide, horror and regret in his eyes. She didn't pause to celebrate the fact she still had the arm she used to (much thanks to her brother) nor celebrate the fact that the stapler had hit its target. Turning on her heel, she jumped back into her convertible, started the engine, and sped away without a single look back.

Adelaide didn't pay attention to where she was driving too. All she cared about was getting away from Scott. She found she had subconsciously driven to Port Angeles. She pulled into the first open parking spot she could find, which was coincidentally in front of a coffee shop. It was just as she sat down on one of the couches that she let the tears fall. Every tear she cried was for what Scott and Peter had done to her, for thinking she deserved someone so amazing, and for what she had done to herself.
"What can I get for you?" A smooth, attractive voice asked, interrupting her tears.
"Just get me a latte," she murmured. As soon as the words had left her lips, there was a steaming latte in her hand.
"Now why is a beautiful girl like you crying?" The voice asked. Adelaide looked up to find the man she had met the last time she had been in Port Angeles.
Adelaide shook her head. "You really don't want to know."
"Sure I do. I'm Chris by the way."
"I'm Adelaide."
"Now what horrendous thing happened that's making a pretty girl like you cry?"
Without having reason to, Adelaide somehow felt like she could trust Chris, so she told him everything from Peter to what had just happened.
He shook his head, sincerity deep in his eyes. "No one deserves that Adelaide."
"What goes around comes around Chris. You get what you deserve. I'm just not sure what I did. Maybe karma's getting a head start."
Chris slipped a piece of paper into her hand. "Here's my number. Call it sometime. Just know I would never betray your trust."
"Ha, like I'm gonna fall for that one again," Adelaide laughed sarcastically, yet she slipped the number into her pocket anyway.
"What did she look like anyway? Ten bucks said she's got nothing on you."
"Oh, you know the type, tall, long blonde hair, dressed like a hooker."
Chris smiled and shook his head. "If it's any consolation, I prefer short girls."
"Yeah, well, it's not."
"Listen Adelaide, I know it's hard to hear, and it may not even be something you want to hear, but try to get over him. Prince Charming's out there, you just need to kiss a few frogs in order to find him."
Adelaide rolled her eyes. Chris wasn't the most original guy she'd ever met, but she gave him credit for trying.

Adelaide thanked Chris, finished her latte and left. She wasn't looking forward to being alone with her thoughts during the drive home, but it was something she would have to face sooner or later. Pulling into the driveway, she looked at the lonely swing sitting on the porch. Never again would she sit on it with Scott and look at the stars. She wished things could be different, but wishing never got anyone anywhere. Without turning on any lights in the empty house, she climbed the stairs and went to bed, unable to get the thought of Scott kissing the whore out of her head.