A/N - I found a slew of old stories that were in either half or less finished states recently on an old usb stick that recently turned up. This one was a departure for me, as it was all human. It explores two lonely people growing together and learning to live.

Let me know if you think this is worth continuing. I have about 15k words in very rough draft condition, probably enough for 3/4 of a story.

Summary: Edward Cullen is a Senior at Forks High. He is a loner and a bit of a nerd with several social disorders. Essentially friendless, he is convinced he will never get to experience what all his classmates always talk about…that is, until he begins to get tutored for extra Spanish lessons.

Limes and Lemons Alert.

Forks HS Cafeteria

Three more months until I graduated this Hell-on-Earth that was Forks High School. That's what I kept telling myself.

I sat at the end of the long table in the cafeteria, basically alone despite a few of the other unpopular kids sitting a few spaces away. None of us really talked to one another, though occasionally one or two of our group would lean their heads together and chat about this or that.

I had sort of become immune to feeling isolated and I rarely if ever spoke to my table mates. Like myself, we were the friendless, the outcasts, the 'losers.' I knew that and had come to accept it, and I suspected that most of my co-inhabitants did as well.

We were the universally shunned kids, and had gravitated together in the poorly lit corner of the cafeteria out of some sort of species herd-mentality; like perhaps we would be less likely to stand out than if we ate alone at one of the always empty tables that bordered the bathrooms. No one could really stand to sit at those tables and try to eat, with the foul miasma leaking from the bathrooms that no amount of bleach could ever fully eliminate.

It hadn't always been that way for me, at least not at first. When I first moved here two years ago, it had generated a bit of interest with the jaded student body. After all, in a small town such as Forks, anything new would be a novelty, at least for a while.

But unfortunately, my extremely poor social skills, borderline anthrophobia, and social anxiety disorder quickly killed any chance I'd had of being accepted. Despite my modestly good looks, my nerdy style of dress and my inability to hold any sort of conversation with my peers relegated me to the 'loser' table by my third week here.

I really didn't expect anything different, as it had been the same at my last school. Sure, there were some kids who were more persistent than others, but what teenager wants to spend their time with a broody nerd who never speaks back to them or answers with shaky one word answers to questions? Or who couldn't even look them in the eye without breaking out into a cold sweat?

I'd been to psychologists, of course. They all essentially said the same thing, given the same diagnosis; several had prescribed various medications, and once in a while there would be an improvement for a while, but then the side effects would become intolerable; they left me sort of spacey, or made me feel anesthetized and my grades suffered from my inability to focus while taking them.

My mother too shared many of my anxiety issues, and my father had been forced to move us from our previous home when her irrational fears of living in a small city became too much for her. Her medications were no longer helping, and despite his frequent traveling – he was a brilliant, highly-lauded physician and spent time lecturing around the country – he did love her and wanted the best for her and our family.

Throwing out my half eaten lunch when the bell rang, the rest of the day dragged. I sat in the back of all my classes, never participating, always bending down over my desk to avoid the eyes of the other students.

I left school that Wednesday afternoon in a complete funk. My AP Spanish grade had fallen this year, and I was now hovering in the B range – the first time I'd ever had any grade less than perfect. It was important to me to do well in school, as I felt it somewhat counterbalanced my absolute failures in every other aspect of my life.

As I had considered my Spanish dilemma a month ago, I realized I was in no way prepared for the AP exam in May, and if I didn't get a 4 of 5 on the test, I would not be able to earn the credit that would let me skip taking it next year in college.

Thankfully my AP Spanish teacher, a kind woman named Mrs. Larocca, tutored her students at her home on Monday's and Wednesdays. Two weeks ago I'd approached her about tutoring, and she'd agreed to tutor me until the exam. I gladly accepted the help, stumbling over my words as I tried to thank her.

Mrs. Larocca had a language lab setup at home that mimicked the one at school, and her tutoring was excellent. During our first two sessions, my car had been in the shop and she had driven me from school to her house, a modern looking home about ten minutes from the high school. The session had been productive, but I wasn't really cut out for one on one tutoring. I just couldn't relax, my social issues weighing me down.

But she was always patient with me, and even after only two tutoring sessions I felt more comfortable with her than any other teacher I'd ever had.

I finally had my own car back – the muffler had broken when I hit a tree branch in the road - and, as we arranged, I followed her to her house. She had a small Chevrolet, a pale gold color, and I drove slowly behind her as we turned off the 101 to a small side street with three homes on it.

Her home was relatively small, a two story, old white house with old leather couches, faded yellow paint in the kitchen, and two bedrooms. She lived alone, and I had found out that she used to be married, which should have been obvious as her surname was 'Mrs.'

However, I'd heard her husband had died a few years ago – he had been the AP Physics Teacher - and the rumor was that he had a heart attack and died in his sleep. He was supposedly fifteen years older than his wife, and Mrs. Larocca looked to be in her early to mid thirties.

She pulled into the driveway, and I parked directly behind her, immediately worrying and stressing if I should have asked her first where to park.

I took several deep breaths, willing myself to relax. I saw her waiting patiently for me - she was of course aware of my issues - and smiled at me kindly. I finally stepped from my car, and followed her into the small foyer of her house, where we took off our coats and hung them on a coat hook.

Mrs. Larocca was about average height, maybe five four, and had a fairly large, curly mane of brown hair that reached to about the middle of her back. She was fair-skinned, and had a small smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

She was not a thin woman, but by no means fat. Out of shape would probably best describe her, and her arms were a bit pudgy, though her legs looked fit. She was fairly plain, but didn't seem to spend any effort on her appearance at all, and she always looked tired, with deep circles under her eyes. I thought she might be quite pretty if she put on a little makeup and lost a little weight.

I'd overheard some students - and even a couple of teachers once - say she was still sad about her husband's death and had never been the same since, so her careworn and sad appearance did not surprise me.

After offering me an orange juice, we sat down at her dining room table and began to review the work she'd assigned in class this week in prep for the AP test. For about thirty minutes we did the review sessions, when it was then time for the video review.

"Come sit, Edward," she said, motioning for me to sit on the couch while she fiddled with the video player behind the TV. When the picture came on, she dimmed the lights and came and sat down next to me, her thigh almost brushing mine and making me suddenly tense. I generally didn't like people touching me, though I did not feel my usual tells - sweaty hands, clammy forehead, racing heart - make an appearance at her proximity.

I looked out of the corner of my eye to see if she was even aware of our close position, but she wasn't'. I knew Mrs. Larocca was a touchy-feely kind of person. I had seen her giving hugs to certain students when they would come back to visit her after graduation, both girls and boys.

So I didn't think much of it, putting it from my mind as I concentrated on the video.

As it played, she would use the remote to pause it occasionally, and ask me to practice the words. I was doing okay, I thought, but my slurs on certain letters like the 'r's just weren't cutting it.

After a few more tries, she stopped the video and looked over to me. "Edward, try and slur your 'r' but do it slowly. But really accentuate it."

"Okay, Mrs. Larocca," I said quietly. I tried but it still wasn't great. I just didn't speak very often, and probably had poor lip control.

She tapped a nail on the armrest, thinking about something. "Okay, let's try this. Edward, may I hold your jaw half closed while you try?"

I nodded shyly, tensing at the expected reaction to being touched again.

She smiled at me, her dimples making her look younger. "Once you feel what I am doing, you can then practice this yourself. I used this technique when helping my step-niece, Isabella. She's lives in Phoenix with her mother. She used to have some issues with pronunciation as well."

I blinked a few times, taking this in, but was surprised when her hand suddenly came up, and gently pursed my lips together with two fingers while the other cupped my chin. Her nails were fairly long, but her fingers were really soft. I blinked a few times, and noticed her blushing a bit, but her hand was steady.

Most amazingly, her fingers felt...pleasant.

It took me a moment to comprehend that I was being touched by someone and not having an adverse reaction.

I finally shook my head to focus, and took a breath. "Ok, Mrs. Larocca. I'll try again." And this time, to my surprise, when I slurred my R, it sounded great!

"Excellent!" she said, her eyes sparkling and her mouth giving me an infectious grin that I mimicked, despite her hand still on my face. "Again, please," she said.

I did it again, and then again, without missing it. She smiled, and withdrew her hand. My face felt colder for it, and I realized I had liked the warmth.

How strange. What did this mean?

"Okay, now you try," she said. I tried it first without my hand, but didn't work, though it was better than last time without any hands. I then put my hand to my face, and tried to mimic her actions. But nope, still didn't work.

She sighed and put her hand back in place. "Okay, Edward, pay attention." She turned us to face a large mirror on the wall over the couch. "Look where my hand is, and how it is moving your lips together." She exaggerated her movements this time, and I felt a strange stirring as she gently moved my lips back and forth, forming almost a perfectly puckered 'O'.

Her nails lay gently on my cheek, as her fingers moved my lips into the position I needed for the slur. Her fingers felt so warm, and their motion on my skin made me shiver.

At first, I thought my shiver was from my usual poor reaction to any touch and that my earlier lack of distress was just an anomaly. However, with a small gasp of surprise, I realized that wasn't it at all.

No, it was that I really enjoyed her touch.

Wow. This had never happened to me before.

Mrs. Larocca must have noticed my reaction, as her hand froze for an instant; she looked at me questioningly - probably thinking I was in distress - but I nodded my head that I was fine, and she smiled at me and began to gently squeeze her fingers, bringing my lips to the position she wanted.

"Okay," she said, "Try again."

I did, and to both our surprise a perfectly executed trill. "I did it!" I said, smiling happily. Mrs. Larocca slowly removed her hand, her nails trailing like fire across the skin of my face.

And, for the first time in my life in the presence of another person, I felt my cock hardening in my pants.

Oh, shit.

Completely oblivious to the turmoil happening in my head, she smiled at me, a very warm smile. "Excellent work, Edward. Don't forget to keep practicing. Use your fingers if you have to."

I nodded my head in embarrassment, trying to will my erection down as it was prominently tenting my loose fitting pants. Luckily the room was dim from the video, but if she looked down the game was up.

Just as I was determined to turn quickly and go the bathroom -and even started to stand - Mrs. Larocca stood first. Unfortunately, my rising shoulder knocked the remote from her hand, and I sat back down with a thump.

She laughed, "Sorry Edward, let me grab that," and to my utter mortification, she leaned over my lap to grab the remote. She didn't hesitate, so I thought I was in the clear, except I noticed, when she sat back down, that her eyes suddenly locked on my tented pants for a brief second.

And despite my mortification, I throbbed even harder, and squirmed in my seat.

I felt my face turning red in mortification, but thankfully Mrs. Larroca made no indication she noticed anything. She stood and walked to turn on the lights, and I could not help but stare at the swing of her hips.

When the lights went on, I blinked a few times as my eyes adjusted. I looked up at her, and I could see the hint of a faint blush in her cheeks. But then she spoke, and her voice was steady, and had her usual warm tone. "Nice work Edward, make sure you practice before next time."

She moved to the video console, and when her back turned, I quickly reached in and adjusted my cock so it was firmly tucked upwards and against my stomach, leaving my pants looking normal. I'm not sure if she noticed or not, and didn't want to find out.

I took a deep breath, and finally stood. "Thanks Mrs. Larocca, I will see you on Thursday."

She seemed not to hear me, for a moment, but turned and looked me in the eye for a few seconds, not saying anything. But even as this registered to me as unusual, she smiled, "yes, thanks for reminding me, Edward."

When I left the house and got in my car, I could have sworn I saw her at the window, looking out at me.

And as I drove home, it occurred to me, that for the first time that I could remember, I had not been nervous about interacting with her during the second half of our lesson.

That night was the first time I dreamed of Susan Larocca.

A/N - LMK if you think this is worth finishing and posting!