Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. Beta'd by HollettLA.

Very long for a drabble. Sorry, drabble gods! I could have broken this up, but I didn't want to :/

Hope you enjoy!

"Class Act"

Chapter Thirteen: The Meadow

"The worst part about it—" I laughed as I knocked back the bottle of vodka, "was that he was kind of creepy, and I liked it." I belched, telling Rose and Alice about Mr. Cullen.

Rosalie laughed along with me.

Alice—she was trying. She nursed a cocktail I'd made for her and would smile when something was funny. I tried to include her in everything, even admitting my plans for Cullen.

And most of all, how stupid I felt now, not to mention confused.

"Bella's hot for teacher . . ." Rosalie poked me.

I smacked her hand away, and we both turned to Alice.

She wore a frown. "He's a nice guy. Don't do anything to hurt him. You're his student. He can get in trouble."

"I—" I didn't know how to reply. For a while, I thought once I told her she'd be my biggest supporter. I guess not. It doesn't matter anymore, especially since I threw my plans in the garbage.

"You're only his student for a few more days," Rose chuckled.

"I have to pee." Alice stood up and left her unkempt bed.

This was the messiest I had ever seen her bedroom. School books, clothes, and just . . . things lay haphazardly around. It wasn't like her, and I wanted to straighten up. I started with her books.

"Can we go?" Rosalie whispered.

"No." I hissed.

She fidgeted where she sat. "She's a total downer."

"You would be, too." I slammed a textbook onto Alice's desk. "Have some sympathy, or at least show some."

She groaned. "Look, prom is tomorrow night, and you know there are parties all weekend. Em just sent me a text—Mike's hosting a kegger at the meadow."

"The cops—my father—always bust us."

"But we never get in trouble," she sang.

I bit the inside of my cheek.

"You'll get to see Jake—get that old teacher out your mind." She still had that sing-song-y tone that made me want to vomit.

"You ruined it. I so don't want to see Jake," I laughed.

"Yeah, you do—at least just for his cock."

"I do not!" Bumping my hip with hers, my smile fell watching Alice join us.

"You guys should go," she whispered.

I shook my head. "I'm not going anywhere."

Rose pulled her hair. "Do you have any more of those Xanax? I hear they go great with vodka."

"No!" I exclaimed.

Alice shook her head, wiping her nose with her sleeve. "They only gave me enough to take the edge off . . . or something." Her voice trailed off. "That drink totally made me sleepy—go. It's fine." By her face alone, I knew it wasn't fine.

"Alice—"

"You heard her," Rosalie whispered. "She wants to go to sleep."

"You go." I pushed her away from me. How she could be so selfish was astounding. "We can watch Grease." I smiled, going to sit next to Alice as Rosalie gathered her things.

"Can I take this?" Rose wiggled the Absolut bottle in her hand.

I jumped up fast to snatch it back. "Hell, no!"

Rosalie stuck out her tongue and then left.

And then Alice started crying. "No one wants to, to be around me." She hiccupped.

I shook my head no vehemently. "That's not true." I wiped her eyes and grabbed for her drink with my free hand. "Sip it—it'll calm you."

She anxiously grabbed the cup to gulp it back. "Peter called me."

"Yeah?" I beamed. Peter is accused of being insensitive, but he's really stuck—like in a state of limbo, just as Alice is. While she's going through a hurt I could never imagine and still healing physically, he doesn't know what to think or make of anything. He wants to be there for her. He just doesn't know how. Of course, it would help matters if Alice answered his texts or calls.

"He, he wanted to know about prom—"

I gasped. "Please say you'll go!"

She sobbed even louder, and I was confused. "He, he wanted to know if it'd be okay if he took Angela Weber—she and Ben broke up."

My mouth made an "O" shape, and I wanted to hunt that sonofabitch down.

"They're only going as friends . . . but he's Peter."

"I hate high school—the boys, the pettiness, and all—everything!" I was about to freak out, too, which was a good and bad thing. For the past month, I've genuinely had some real emotions, but I wished the last four weeks never happened.

"They'll have sex."

"No," I said, my mind reeling. "Ali, if I said I could fix this . . . would you mind if I left?"

She calmed down, sniffling. "I suck. I should let him go—I've been dumb, and I'm stronger than this."

I was stunned into silence for a second. "You—you are," I wholeheartedly agreed. "You're so strong."

"He can't go with her."

And that's how I found myself on my knees, at the meadow, while I sucked Jake's dick.

"Ah, fuck, baby!" He held my hair. "Wait . . ." He literally stopped my head. "What was that?"

"Wha-wa-wha?" My mouth was full.

"Nothing." He pulled my head onto his cock.

With a few flicks of my wrist, a little tug on his balls, and taking him back deep—he came, after two minutes.

And I swallowed, so he'd do what I wanted.

"I'm so, so happy you decided to come." He was out of breath. "I know—I know I've been busy, but it's for us. I've been working—"

"You mean, hanging out—Ahhh!" I jumped back, slamming into Jake as I swore I saw something move by the hedges across from us.

"What?" he asked, still panting.

"Um . . . a deer or something. Let's go back to the others." I was cold and creeped out, as I stared—feeling something, an entity there, watching us. It was an odd feeling, one I couldn't place. I was spooked. "Jake, we should—"

"Relax." He gave me a hug. "Is Bella still scared of the Boogey Man?"

I giggled. "Shut up." Pushing him away helped me steel my nerves again. "I don't know what—" I stared at the bushes, pointing awkwardly. "I bet it's Emmett or someone being an asshole."

"McCarty, you out there?" Jake shouted.

We didn't hear a response or see any movement.

"It was probably a deer." I clung onto Jake.

If something jumped out, I'd push Jake's big ass into it and run like a mother . . .

"Fuck. That was some glorious head, baby." He bent in, and I stood on my toes. He leaned back, kissing my hair. "I just came in your mouth." He snorted. "I can't kiss you."

I rolled my eyes. "Why am I with you?" Nothing was worth enduring this any-fucking-more, not another minute.

"Stop with your shit." He drank his beer. "We belong together."

"Yeah." I grumbled, calming down. "Look, tell Peter he can't go with Weber to prom."

"Why?" He donned that stupid letterman jacket with the Spartan emblem.

"Because I fucking said so—you'll kick his ass if he does." I pointed.

Jake nodded. "Anything else, princess?"

"Tell him he can't be a dick to Ali anymore," I whispered, knowing Jake only had a week of ruling the school left. At least Alice might cheer up a little more, and they can get back to being . . . them?

Jake nodded. "He is being an ass. If that was you—God forbid." He wrapped his arms around my waist. "I'd kill James . . ." He combed through my hair with his fingers, and this was different. "I love you, Bells. I'd—I'd always be there for you."

I grinned, seeing a side to Jake I hadn't since we were sophomores—when he was still trying to take my virginity. It was sweet. "Really?"

He stared down at my lips, cupping my cheeks, but then he kissed my nose. "Take a sip." He handed me his beer.

He ruined the moment, and since he wasn't drunk yet, I had him take me home.

"Is that Cullen behind us?" He looked in his rear-view.

I wanted to look so bad, but I didn't. "I don't know."

"That is," he laughed. "He drives a Volvo—nothing like my Rabbit. Right, baby?"

"Yeah," I sighed, slumping low in the seat.

We remained quiet for the rest of the short ride. Jake never mentioned seeing Mr. Cullen again, while I wished I had—I was curious.

"You want me to walk you?"

I scoffed. "Talk to Peter."

"I will." He kissed my cheek, and I left his car.

Jake was fast to screech his tires while I shook my head at his retreating vehicle. "Asshole," I hissed.

Then headlights caught my attention. Slowly driving down my street, was a sleek, silver Volvo. Mr. Cullen stopped for a brief second—barely really coming to a stop. He grinned, and then he was gone too.

Later that night, while I smoked a cigarette out of my window, I squealed a small scream and hid behind my curtains.

Mr. Cullen was parked outside my house.

He knew I saw him.

Because he drove away.

Dun. Dun. Dun . . .

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THANKS for reading, bbs!

xoxoxox