Author's note:

noticed a critical error in the last chapter that I am now way too lazy to correct, but be rest assured that I will take a closer look at certain mentions of names in the future _

Btw random note but does anybody else find Doc Brown insanely hot/good looking? Re-watched BTTF the other day and couldn't help but notice this inarguable fact. Maybe it was just because I was ovulating.

ANYHOO!

a reminder to all you crazy kiddies out there – reviews are very much appreciated, in fact, they give me a pleasure beyond any earthly experience (even if they are negative or critical – let me hear you say ILLITERATE )

As for the length of this story - well, it's kind of never- ending at this point. But I plan to end it somewhere around chapter 50 most probably - then the inevitable sequel which I have already planned out.

Anybody who's missing their sombrero hat can exit stage right – everyone else, let the party continue!

I'm like a shooting star

I've come so far

can't go back to where I used to be

At every turn a surprise!

- Aladdin

You'd think, dear reader – that I would like to start a new chapter with some fuzzy, man-loving lines like "my fresh sexbudding times with an undead dictator was off to a great start!" Which would not be amiss or unappreciated (especially by yours truly). But it is not the truth – well not the whole truth.

The truth, as you've come to realize (at least where I'm involved) is a lot more complicated.

As much as I'd like to say that I've been riding nothing but cold, hard Italian schlong for an entire month since that first weekend it is not truth. Actually Aro has been pretty busy since then, preparing at the museum for this upcoming greek exhibition about emperors. Or so he tells me. Fitting, since that's where he originally came from.

But that's okay – I mean I get that he's busy. I'm an understanding sort of gal.

Maybe he just says he's busy because he hates seeing your fat face.

Hey! Uncalled for!

Fine I take it back – your face is only fat when you're lying on your side.

Meanwhile back at the ranch, Rumour is aflame at school about my tryst with an older man, and boy they're too right – he's like more than a 1000 years older so technically it's the same as having sex with the fossil of a skeleton.

You're the resident romantic all right.

Except not the same at all since he's an immortal fairylike demon who oh so casually likes to sing along to really hammy 70s tunes and conduct carnage on the side. Well what is it they say? Women are from Venus and men are from Italian underground vampire cults.

Wow, now that's a book everyone should read!

Not that he does much of that in this verison of reality. I hope - well not that I know of. I mean, I made him promise at least to not attack innocent people. Hm, should ask about that later. He's probably doing something sneaky behind my back. Like planning world domination or something. Not that I didn't trust Aro, I just didn't trust him. With blood, violence or anything related to such.

See – I'm not as dumb as you though reader!

Don't be so sure about that.

And so what if he's a little busy? It's not like I'm just fiddling my hands idly. It's not like I can't survive without a man by my side – I mean geez. Who do you think I am – Princess Zelda?! As a matter of fact our school is going to put up our very own art exhibition soon as well. It was nearing the end of term, which usually meant "final project time". The theme this time is "under the sea" which everyone is going interpret artistically in very different ways. Personally I hope I do not see any interpretive dances, since they always involve spandex suits that has me rolling on the floor in agonized laughter.

Personally I thought about doing a large scale painting of mermaids attacking a drowning sailor, destroy the patriarchy and all that. Realistic painting was my forte, so I was going to be quite busy for a while with this project.

So. I'm fine.

Right as rain.

Peachy keen.

Jelly bean.

We were talking about this in the school cafeteria (me, Heather, Mike, Damien) when the conversation steered towards exactly what I'd tried to avoid all week.

Heather was showing some sort of lewd photo to Mike, who was chuckling and blushing all at once. Damien nudged me from the side and asked me about "the pale Italian guy".

"How's it going with that?" he asked, brown eyes way too perceptive for my liking. I swallowed down the chicken nugget on my fork with an audible gulp.

"Fine!" I chirped out, waving a hand casually in the air.

"Really?" He asked.

"Of course! Gee, just because I don't talk about him all the time like Heather talks about her STDs you assume something is wrong."

"I never assumed anything Mina. "

Whoaaa he pulled a reverse psychology on ye mate.

Whats' with the irish accent brain?

Just spicing things up.

"Well good –because everything is great. Yep. Nothing to write to town about." I enthused, mashing potatos and nuggets together manically. Damien sighed and shook his head.

"He hasn't called has he?"

Damn, Damien is as freakishy perceptive ( though less evil) as his namesake. To make a long story short, Damien was like the resident oracle – ask him anything and trust HE WILL KNOW THE ANSWER. I released a really big sigh as if I had been holding my breath.

"No. And I really don't see why – I mean sure he's busy and whatever, but you'd think that licking my ass might be more exciting than staring at ones made out of stone."

From across the cafeteria, one of the teachers heads suddenly swivelled around like an owl to glare at me. Oh shit, it was Ms. Trench. The resident bitch, pardon my French. Even though this was technically college, she kept track of all the students and dictated what we said or did. She was the college guidance counsellor.

"You gone and upset the elderly." Heather hissed, ducking as if attempting to hide her massive form under the table. They really ought to get proper tables big enough that EVERYONE can hide underneath them. Myself included.

"Excuse me miss, but what is that LANGUAGE?" Ms. Trench called out to me, now marching towards our table.

Damn me and my stupid mouth.

"Uh…which part? My ass or the licking of said ass – or the part about marble ass? You have to be specific. I tend to talk out of my ass. Damn, I really need to stop saying ass. "

Ms. Trench face expanded and turned red. Oopsie, I might have gone a bit overboard with the ass- I mean butt talk. Is butt an acceptable word?

"Stop! Stop it right now – a young lady such as you should act your age, we do not discuss such intimate matters in PUBLIC for goodness sake. We do not need to hear about your shameful cavorting with wild Italian men who only care about ONE thing."

Oh, she did not.

She did.

I gaped at her. She misunderstood this for a compliant silence and prattled on. Little did she know what I was doing with my hands in my lap.

Eew, I'm not that far gone! Shame reader, for shame.

"…And in front of other students like this, that is not acceptable at ALL! Why, when I was your age…"

In hindsight, I should have taken the more mature route and just taken her insults for what they were. But me being me, I guess what happened was inevitable. Ms. Trench had been very busy yelling at me, without noticing what I was doing with the food or my hands. But finally she noticed, and stopped her tirade to ask.

"What is that?" she demanded, looking down at my lap. I stared also, feigning surprise at the quick contraption I'd put together.

"It's a potato Ms. Trench."

"But why are you holding your fork in that position?!"

"Why, it's a catapult."

"Wha-"

"And I'm about to launch it at your head."

There was a dramatic pause, so quiet that you could hear a pin drop and the strain of the fork the millisecond before it was released.

I released the catapult and the potato rammed into her forehead, where it harmoniously bounces down and slithers into the womans (very ample) cleavage. I stared down at said cleavage for a second because it was a kind of impressive cleavage.

Then I was aware of the woman said cleavage belonged to was wailing very loudly.

Oh dear.

Damn. I guess it's the principals office yet again.

For many people, college is a coming of age experience – for me tho it was just the same as high school in many aspects. Aka I got in trouble for dumb shit and childish pranks.

What would Churchill do in this situation?

This culturally indifferent nature of yours is becoming rather worrying – what would Aro think about you not knowing who Winston Churchill was?

What is there to know?! I he was a fat man and I'm 99,9 % sure he had something to do with politics.

We fear for our mutual future.

Ugh, all this thinking about responsibility is disrupting my general groove. I need to go lie down.

After having been to the principals office, of course. We're strangely obedient when we're tired.

And this was how Caius found me later – sleeping under a tree outside the school. He started at the sleep spittle at my jaw and gave me a horrified/pitying look in liu of a proper greeting.

"I love waking up and seeing your face sweet cakes."

"Believe me, the notion is entirely unrequited."

"So you told me that you had some urgent business stuff to share with me?"

"Unfortunately, I do. Please, let's leave this place. It makes me cringe."

"What doesn´t?" I muttered to myself as I got up and followed him. We went to a nearby ice cream bar where I ordered a large banana split as Caius eyed the desserts with vainly concealed contempt.

We sat down at a table with my order and his empty coffee mug when he went down to business.

Caius hands me a thick folder with a leather jacket that was so heavy it bounced on the table top. I blinked.

"What is this?"

Instead of answering me he looked out the window. He adjusts the scarf around his neck and by lord, he's actually fidgeting. Stop the presses and hold the phone people, this is breaking news. Caius is actually embarrassed.

"Seeing as matters are what they are, I thought it best you be better informed."

"Informed of what, exactly?" I asked.

Caius seemed to take a deep (in theory, unneeded) breath before he was willing to look me in the eye.

"About my brothers prior involvement with the opposite sex."

I glanced at the folder and then back to him. Wow, talk about a Judy Bloom moment.

"If you're worried about condoms, don't even bother. I've got it covered." I told him, sniggering loudly.

Caius blinked rapidly and shook his head as if trying to ignore what he'd just heard.

"That is not what I mean at all! He said, fingers drumming on top of the folder in a very irritating sort of way.

"And this folder…."

"Contains vital information for a possible future wife of said person." Caius finished.

"Wait a sec – BRIDE!?"

Caius continued on as if I hadn't spoken, "…Or anyone interested to engage in a long term involvement, so to speak."

"Whew, you scared me there for a sec."

Admit it, for a moment there you were kinda excited about the prospect of being a blushing bride.

"And the author of this thing?"

"Me and Marcus – since the original is in a different realm of reality at the moment, we have complied the necessary information in this copy."

"Okay so, what do I have to know that needs to take up more than an entire book? I mean I already know he's ding dong crazy. I can deal with that." I said, waving a hand reassuringly. Caius huffed so that his perfectly poised blond-white hair fell into his eyes. He rearranged it with a neat hand, but looked at me the entire time with a monstrous glare as if I was personally to blame for his hair problems.

"I know you can, but have you ever considered what past partners he has had, and how they dealt with it? Hm?" he nearly spat at me.

Well, he got me there. In my romance addled brain there HADNT been anyone else before me really. Which is pretty stupid, I admit. The thought of someone else made me feel surprisingly stingy. Meanwhile Caius opened the folder to a specific page and nodded to himself.

"Like Elizabeth I for instance. They were very compatible when it came to intelligence."

Intelligence, oh. Shit, I hadn't even considered that aspect either – how compatible Aro and I really are. I mean, I was totally aware that the whole Volturi clan could probably dance circles around the MENSA association without much mental effort – but I hadn't really considered the specifics of what that meant until now.

Now that we think about it, they could be amazing Mathletes. As long as they do not eat the competition.

Man, this talk was making me feel more self-conscious than I had felt since junior high.

"Lizzie eh? " I said, laughing and sweating. "That's interesting. How long did that last?" I asked as I desperately tried not to panic too much.

Caius blew air through his nostrils haughtily and flipped a page in the folder as I clung to his next words with breathless anticipation.

"13 years all in all. We all figured that she'd join the coven, but eventually declined."

Some ice cream dripped off my spoon, which went sorely unnoticed. My mood suddenly dropped to underground levels of bad.

"I see…."

Caius prattled on about various women (dead or otherwise) that Aro had dated over the past 1000 years, not noticing how completely suicidal I was starting to look. They were ALL women of brains, soldiers or legendary writers. To say that I was currently feeling pretty insignificant was an understatement.

At the end of the talk I have gone pasty pale and my face feels sorta numb and crestfallen, just like when you're a kid and someone takes your favorite teddy away from you. You try to act all brave and mature, but anyone with a head and two eyes can tell you're upset as hell and about 5 seconds away from crying shamelessly.

Caius looked at me like I was a bomb about to explode and if possible, and looked even paler than usual. If I wasn't so upset I would have laughed at his hopeless expression.

"Are you…even temperatured?" he asked uncertainly. But I can't say I really heard him due to my internal conflict.

Oh my god. I've been so stupid. Who am I kidding to think I have a chance with Aro at all!? Those sexytimes we had was probably just him pitying me. It sure seemed so now, after what I had just heard.

Hes one of the most powerful men /smartest men in the friggin universe probably who's been with some of the smartest ladies in the world and I'm just some downy potato child who lives on pizza and Ricky Lake. What could he possibly see in me?

Oh damn it, now I'm crying.

I left my banana split half eaten and ran out of the bar, tears trailing in my wake like confetti. I faintly heard Caius calling after me, but it faded after a minute or two.

As I walked dejectedly down the street, my phone buzzed. It was a text from HIM.

(Not jesus – that would have been unexpected and entirely too late for a divine intervention)

Mina,

- Please, pay me a visit at the museum, if you are not otherwise engaged.

A.

Okay, so might as well break it off now that I knew what an insignificant little ant I was. Right? A nice clean break, isn't that what all those gossip columns have said is the best recipe to avoid disaster?

No comment.