A/N

Happy Monday!

—-

Rose, Alice and I arrive at First Beach later than everyone else on Friday night —fashionably late, as always.

The fire is already burning high, billowing smoke towering into the night sky, emitting a blaring warmth that counteracts the harsh wind from the crashing sea behind us.

November is approaching, and people are wearing more layers, much to the dismay of the horny teenage boys in attendance. Not that layers ever really get in the way of sex.

We brought tequila, taking turns to swig straight from the bottle, warming us even further, this time from the inside.

After an hour or so, Alice is inebriated enough to find the courage to approach Jasper Whitlock, and Rose disappears with one of Edward's friends.

Mike approaches, just when I'm starting to feel disappointed that I haven't seen Edward yet. Handing me a fresh beer —ever the gentleman— and smiling timidly, which I return easily as Jessica Stanley appears in front of us, swiping her own beer from the table. "Any of you guys seen Edward Cullen?" she asks, looking around uselessly.

Mike and I shake our heads -nope. She sighs, dropping a hip and crossing her arms across her mediocre chest, like a petulant child.

"Are you and Edward like ... a thing now?" I ask, fanning the proverbial flames. Her eyes meet mine and she smiles wide, cheap lipstick on her teeth.

"Yeah," she shrugs, "obviously."

"Obviously." I nod, using the neck of my beer bottle to point over her shoulder. "There he is."

She spins so quickly I'm surprised she doesn't fall. He watches me —only me— as he approaches, cigarette hanging between his lips, his hair blowing away from his face as he walks against the wind, swept-back and suave, ever the bad boy.

"Finally!" Jessica exclaims, so high-pitched I cringe. She saunters toward him, trying to act sexier than she is, but he walks right past her, not even looking in her direction. I almost feel bad. Almost. And then he walks right past me too, and I growl.

Mike excuses himself quietly as I watch Edward's retreating back over my shoulder. Maybe he thinks Jessica and I need a moment so I can console her.

That's not going to happen.

I smirk as she chases him, calling his name loudly. Good luck, I think to myself, chuckling.

He's the topic of conversation wherever I go, whoever I'm talking to. The guys can't stand him, no doubt threatened by his presence, knowing he's always fighting and his opponent always loses. And then there's the question of his sexuality -they're paranoid, which makes me laugh. The girls are curious, wanton in their lust for the bad-boy with the questionable morals and a brooding intensity.

But no one knows anything about him, which only fuels the gossip-mill.

Three hours in, and I decide I've had enough. I need more. I need him. I want him, and no one else is a worthy substitute. I'm drunk. I've been watching him, listening to talk of him all night and he's consuming me.

He's standing with his back to the fire, looking out onto the dark tree line, laughing at something his tall, tanned friend said.

I catch his eye as I approach. He watches me as he takes a drink of clear liquid from the bottle that's handed to him. For a moment, there's only him and me, everything else fades away, nothing else matters.

As I pass, I give him a wide berth, making my intentions known as I head towards the trees -alone.

I don't need to look back to know he's following. I can hear the crunch of leaves under his heavier feet, I can feel the intensity in the air, thickening in the darkness of the forest.

I stop as soon as the sounds from the beach fade. He's right behind me, breathing down my neck, making me shiver.

His palm comes to rest on the tree in front of me, his body pushing against my back.

Letting my head fall backward against his chest, I look up.

"Touch me," I beg.

He growls, his hands grabbing my hips, spinning me to face him.

—

A/N

Uh oh ...