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How Soon is Now?

Rating: M

Summary: One night (and a day) can change a lot between friends. "Alreet our kid?" A Britward one-shot.

AN: Welcome... to the fluffiest thing I've ever written 😂

This is set in Britain. It's a Britfic. It has a Britward and Britella. It has Britishisms galore. Just a fair warning!

Thanks to Monica for betaing, and Ciara, Lauren, May and Jo for pre-reading. I appreciate you more then you know.

Translations at the bottom.

We both stop on the pavement next to the lamppost, bathed in an orange glow. Someone's slapped a sticker on it: Boris Johnson wearing a crown. Underneath, in thick black marker, someone else has written 'Tory scum' and given him a mustache. I don't disagree, but I wish they'd defaced it a little more. Like cancelled out his whole face.

"Alright our kid?" Edward asks, but it comes out more like "Alreet ar kid," faint Manc twang making me feel all fuzzy inside as he looks down at me with a grin.

"Yeah. Not too bad. Your Mum okay? Heard she were down A&E the other day."

"Ah. Yeah, she's okay. Fuckin' heart acting up again. Gotta have some monitoring, see what's going on."

"An ECG?"

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

Edward rocks on his feet, hands in his hoodie pockets. He's wearing trackies tucked into white Nike socks and battered trainers that have seen better days. He coaches football in the evenings, so I'm guessing that's where he's coming from, rucksack slung over one shoulder. The smile on his face does nothing to hide tired eyes though.

"You still seeing that chav?" he asks, half-joking because we all know Jake Black is exactly that.

I shake my head. "Nope. Cheated on me."

Edward gives me a sympathetic look that makes me want to punch him and maybe kiss him too. I don't like being pitied, but his face... It's a nice face.

"Ah, you're better off. Never liked the dickhead anyways."

"Yeah, well."

Edward's never liked anyone I've gone out with. Not one. It's a constant running joke in our circle of friends.

A girl pushing a pram is fast approaching and we step off the pavement and into the road so she can get by; her phone pressed tightly between her ear and her shoulder.

"Ta," she says, her eyes fixed on Edward as she moves past.

He's like that though—magnetic—wayward hair and a cheeky glint in his eyes. He's always been fit, but just like The Street's song goes… my gosh don't he know it.

"I should get going. Just finished up a twelve-hour shift and I'm knackered," I tell him, holding up my hand with my shopping in. "Mum asked me to pick up a few bits on the way home for tea, and you know how Dad gets if he's not fed." The plastic bag twists around my fingers. "Tell your mum I said 'hi' okay? If you let me know when her appointment is, maybe I can drop by and see her. It's been ages."

"Ah, she'd love that. Sure she'll be made up to see you. Always were her favourite."

We say bye and I carry on crossing the road, Edward's voice ringing out behind me.

"You fancy the Phoenix tomorrow? Quid a drink? Be like sixth form all over again."

I pause, running the idea over in my head. I have a couple of days off now before starting a week of nights; it wouldn't be a bad way to spend an evening.

"Yeah. Okay," I say, throwing him a smile. "Sounds fun."

"Sound. I'll call you. Make plans. Your number still the same, yeah?"

"You still have it?"

"Course I do," he scoffs.

"Well then, catch you later."

I carry on down the road heading towards my parent's house. After three years living halfway across the country for uni, it was kind of inevitable—moving back in with the 'rents. I hate it... not having the freedom I'm used to, but it is what it is.

Newly qualified as a nurse, I've not saved up any money yet to move out and buy a house of my own, and it's going to take a while. Even with first-time buyer schemes, the deposit alone is still going to cost me thousands of pounds. And, as Dad likes to constantly remind me whenever I bring it up, renting is just dead money anyway.

The tinny sound of Stormzy assaults my ears as soon as I open the fire-engine red door of the 1930s semi we call home.

Poking my head round the door of the living room, I'm surprised to see my brother, Mikey. At seventeen he's usually out with his mates, or in his room ignoring everyone. Sitting slumped on the sofa, head to toe in Adidas with a New Era snapback pulled down over his eyes; his fingers fly over the screen of his phone. I smack him on the back of the head, knocking his hat off. He grunts out a 'fuck off'.

"Matched anyone on Tinder yet? Or are they put off with the bum fluff on your face?"

"Fuck off, Bella," he snarls, louder now.

"Language, Mikey!" Mum reprimands from the kitchen.

I stifle a laugh as I make my way down the hallway, shedding my coat as I go.

"Ay up me duck," Dad says, without looking up from the paper.

"God. Who even says that anymore?"

I dump the orange Sainsbury's bag on the table, hanging my coat off the back of a pine chair Mum painted canary yellow, inspired by a home decorating group on Facebook.

Dad's thicker accent comes out. "I'll have you know, it's still pretty common up North. Midlands, too."

I eye him up in his polo shirt, his 'United Till I Die' tattoo peeking out on his bicep, skin tanned and leathery from years of working outside.

"Whatever. I'm tired and my feet hurt. Think I'm going to have to give in and buy a new pair of shoes."

I wrinkle my nose, because I've only just bought these ones and they're not cutting it. My feet are aching so much I could cry.

"The sacrifices you have to make, hmm? Clarks had some comfy looking ones." Mum pats my arm as she reaches for the bag.

I huff, my head finding my arms as she flits around the kitchen, putting things away in the fridge, the kettle rumbling away as it boils. I only lift my head when she puts down a steaming mug of tea in front of me, a twenty pound note tucked underneath it.

"Towards your new shoes, Petal."

"Thanks, Mum." I sit up properly, taking a sip of tea and hesitating, before biting the bullet. "Goin' out with Edward tomorrow night, just so you know."

"Edward? Gosh, blast from the past." Mum smiles. "How is he?"

"He's good. I think, anyway. Didn't stop to have an in-depth conversation."

"You'll have to invite him round so we can watch the footie," Dad says. "Been awhile. That lad never did me wrong with his tips for my accumulator."

"I'll see what he says, I'm not making any promises though. He's probably busy."

"By out, do you mean to the pub or clubbing?" Mum queries.

"Well, we're going down the Phoenix, so I guess we'll just see what happens."

…

"Bella! Edward's here," Mum shouts from downstairs.

I swear, looking at the heap of clothes piled on my bed and my half-naked reflection in the mirror before I yank open my bedroom door in my towel.

"Are we just goin' down the pub or do you reckon we'll end up out-out?" I shout down.

Edward appears at the foot of the stairs doing a double take when he sees me clutching my towel to my chest.

"Youse not even dressed yet?"

"Answer the question, or I'm just gonna take longer."

He smiles up at me, a gleam in his eye.

"Y'know how it goes with me."

Out-out it is. I raise a finger to indicate just a minute, but we both know that's a lie.

Twenty-five minutes later, I've put on a wrap dress that shows off my tits and shoved a pair of ballet flats on my feet. Even if we go out-out later, a hundred drunken nights have taught me one thing: heels are not my friends. Sure, I like how my legs look when I'm wearing them, but hobbling around at the end of the night and spending the next week on shift battling blisters… I'm really not about that life anymore. Flats are the real deal.

Staring at pale skin in the mirror, I suddenly wish I wasn't so wrecked from work all the time so I had the willpower to fake tan, but nevermind. Love Island star, I'm not. Pale, pasty, Bella will have to do, for tonight anyway.

I fluff up my hair, check my make-up one last time and shove my phone, body spray, driver's license, and bank card into a little crossbody bag I nabbed in the sale from All Saints last Christmas.

Edward's sat in the living room talking to my dad and Mikey when I finally make it downstairs.

"Gonna get a bit nesh out, Bella," Dad warns, shooting a disapproving look at my dress. "Sure you don't want to put on more than that?"

I cross my arms, leaning against the door frame.

"You know, as well as I do, after a few, it could be minus twelve and you wouldn't be able to tell."

"Oh aye yeah, but as a nurse you should know hypothermia is serious business. Don't want you to be like that lad they found in that field t'other year, frozen solid an' in the buff."

"Well, I'm not changing now. I'll take my chances, y'know, seeing that it's September and eighteen degrees out."

Edward has to cough to cover up his snort of laughter.

"Are you done moaning about how hard done to United were this last season, or is Edward free to go?"

"Off with youse then," Dad grumbles as Edward stands. "And be safe. Holdin' you to the football on Sunday too, Ed."

"I'll be here, gaffer. No worries."

I wave Dad off as we clatter out the house.

"Don't wait up," I yell, just as I close the door behind us.

Edward walks to the end of the garden path as I pause and double check my bag. When I look up, he's staring at me.

"What?"

His face morphs into a smirk.

"Nowt. You ready? I put an open invitation out, hope y'don't mind."

I shrug. "More the merrier. You know anyone who's coming for sure?"

"Ah, Liam and Lauren, maybe Jess… Jared. Old crew style."

A thrill of excitement runs through me.

"Really will be like old times."

"Aye. Missed us, have you?" He pokes me in the side, fingers grazing bare flesh.

I wriggle away from him, even though I want to do the exact opposite.

"Define missed?"

"Pined after me? Stalked me on the 'gram? Facebook? Fuckin' Twatter?"

"You wish," I lie. Of course I've stalked his social media. Weekly. Maybe daily, sometimes. "Haven't missed what you call banter, that's for sure."

"You love it."

I lift my head to scrutinise him. He's in a pair of black skinny jeans and a white t-shirt, smart shoes on because not even the rubbish clubs and pubs in this town will let you in wearing trainers these days, but it looks good on him. He's got days of stubble on his face, and that looks really good on him too.

"You didn't have to come all the way down here, I could've met you there," I tell him as we start the short walk into town.

"I know, but gave us the chance to have a catch up with your dad. Us Mancunian lads've gotta stick together."

"Ah, I kinda forgot about your bromance with my dad."

Edward's own dad bailed on him and his mum before his voice even broke, and I think he looked at my dad to fill that void in some ways. He was always round ours when his mum was working late.

"Yeah, your dad's fuckin' mint," he nods.

"So it wasn't to be nice and walk us into town at all then?" I laugh. "Just to worship the legend that is Charlie Swan."

His eyes slide over to me.

"Well, there was that, but you're right I can't let you walk round like that on your own." He jerks his head at me.

"Like what?"

He doesn't answer. Instead, he slings his arm around me, drawing me to him, and for just a few seconds I'm engulfed in that familiar Edward smell: Lynx Africa.

"See the years haven't got you weaned from that shite," I tease.

He sniffs my head. "And you're still wearing Body Shop Vanilla Musk, so I'll say we're even."

…

The Phoenix is heaving, even for a Thursday night, the smell of stale beer and greasy food lingering in the air.

We find ourselves a table toward the back of the room, the same one we all used to congregate at every evening after school for a few drinks, which would, more often than not, turn into a whole lot more.

Those impromptu nights out were some of my favourites. Stealing trollies from Tescos and racing each other across empty car parks, finishing the night off outside a takeaway eating kebabs out of polystyrene containers, dancing along pavements and low garden walls, singing drunkenly, smoking a sneaky spliff before we cabbed it to someone's house to crash in someone's living room.

Edward gets the first round in as I settle, looking around dated decor and flyers that still paper the wall behind the table; adverts for upcoming Sunday night tribute bands: Really Hot Chili Peppers, Blobbie Williams, and the Faux Fighters.

I gaze across the room to the bar. Edward's chatting up a girl with bottle red hair. She's leant over the bar, tits squeezed together. My stomach sinks and I avert my eyes. I learnt a long time ago that watching Edward with other girls was always a sure-fire way of ruining my entire mood. It's stupid really, even after all these years I can't shake this stupid school girl crush I have on him.

I take to browsing through Instagram and Facebook on my phone to distract myself, flipping the camera round on my face to check my make-up again.

"Vodka lemonade." I look up as Edward slides a half-pint across the table. And, instead of sitting opposite, like I assume he's going to, he slips into the booth right next to me.

"What if I've gone off it?"

"You never were that fussy."

I take a large gulp.

"People change."

"Not that much," he says.

"Bella!"

I twist my head, seeing Jess and Lauren walking over, excitedly waving their hands. Standing, I lean over to hug them both, ignoring Edward between us as my tits brush the top of his head.

"Oh my gosh! It's been ages, babe! Look at you, looking beaut as always. Little skinny minny now, ain't ya?"

I can feel my cheeks redden. She's not wrong. I lost a fair wedge of weight pretty soon after I got to uni. Relentless studying, placements, partying, and a diet that solely consisted of coffee and cheese on toast—worked wonders.

"Aw, don't. Feel dead guilty I've not made an effort, I've just been so busy since I moved back with work. If I'm not in my bed, I'm at the hospital."

"But look at you! Saving lives, more than the rest of us can brag about. C'mon Eddie-boy, budge up."

Edward and I shuffle further into the booth as they slip in; until his thigh rests warm against mine.

"Where's Liam?"

"Be along soon. Got caught up talking to someone he knows. Y'know how he is. Could chat shit for England." She rolls her eyes.

"Can't believe you two are still together. Not like in a bad way," I add. "I just mean, it's been forever."

"I know," she sighs dramatically. "I don't know how I put up with him. But we got our own place a couple of weeks back, so things are ticking along. Been together seven years this year! Seven!"

"Ah, really? That's amazing. So pleased for you, Lozza."

I take another large mouthful of my drink, fielding an onslaught of questions about my brother, my parents, and, unfortunately, Jake.

"What a fucking knobber!" Jess gasps once I've filled them in on all the gory details of him cheating on me with some slag he works with. "And he had the audacity to blame it on you? Unbelievable. Men, I swear down. Screw him, hun."

I swallow and shrug, plunging the paper straw in and out of my drink, stabbing at the ice like it's his face.

"Working twelve-hour shifts in A&E is being selfish, apparently."

Edward's shaking his head, nostrils flared. "Like I said to you, you're better off. Sounds like he needs a couple of right hooks to the face."

I pick through my bag for my bank card and stand. "I'll get the next round in," I offer, wanting to stop the conversation going any further. I didn't come here to dwell on Jake. "What are you guys after?"

With a mental list, I climb under the table to get out, fielding feet and bare legs.

"So classy," Jess sniggers.

"As always." I do a little curtsey as I pull my dress back down to cover my arse properly but almost as soon as I have, my feet aren't on the ground anymore. I'm picked up and spun around, a deep laugh in my ear.

"There she is! Our little Florence Nightingale."

"Get off you prick!" I aim a few well-placed slaps before my hair gets ruffled and Liam's smirking face swims into my vision. He's hairier than I remember. Bigger too. He hugs me close.

"Missed ya too! Little nugget."

I smooth down my hair and smile up at him.

"Well, that makes one of us. What you having? I was just going up to the bar. Pint? Snakebite and black?"

"I'll come with you. Gonna need extra hands for this rabble." He jerks a thumb over his shoulder.

"I'll do it," Edward says, coming up behind me.

"Ah, there's my main man! Cullen, how's it going, mate?"

They clap their hands together and draw each other in with slaps on the back.

"Good mate, can't complain. Kids driving me nuts at training, little scrotes."

"Can imagine. You doing alright in the Sunday league or what?"

"Terrible, but nevermind, s'all good fun. Your usual, yeah?"

"Yeah, Bella's got it. Can't go wrong with a snakebite and black." He winks at me and I smile.

Maybe Edward was right. Maybe things really don't change that much.

We weave our way in between people standing close to the bar, Edward's tall, broad figure easy to follow. He looks back every now and then to make sure I'm following, and when he squeezes in to lean on the bar, he makes sure there's space for me too.

The red-head is over to Edward almost straight away, despite other people waiting longer. She's chirpy and flirty when she asks him what he wants, and I have to stop myself from laughing out loud at the sheer desperation.

Edward reels off our order, before casting a long sideways look at me, "Anything else?"

"Don't think so."

"Oh, yeah. Ten shots of Jäger please." He tosses a wink my way.

The girl's eyes slide to me, and her smile tightens on her face.

"Don't think you're not gettin' absolutely wrecked with me," he says, leaning closer so his mouth is touching the shell of my ear, his hand on the small of my bare back.

"Is that a challenge?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Oh, for sure."

I groan, turning back to the bar, offering up my bank card to pay when the girl reads out the total. Edward's hand reaches out and pushes mine down.

"Let us get these," he says, giving his card over. "Thanks, Kate."

Kate.

So he does know her. By name.

She smiles, taking his card and inserting it into the chip and pin device, holding it out to him. He doesn't see the way she studies him, but I do.

"Will I see you later?" she asks. He looks up at her.

"Ah. No. Out with friends tonight," he says, pocketing his card, picking up three beers and Liam's snakebite and black in large hands.

"Grab the shots and I'll come back for the pitcher," he says to me. "Coming through, lads." His voice makes people move out of his way, leaving me trailing in his wake, tempering the sudden rush of jealousy that comes with the knowledge he's probably shagging Kate, or at least shagged her before.

I sit down next to Jess as Edward places two shots in front of everyone, before disappearing back to the bar.

I watch him. How Kate says something to him as he collects the pitcher from her. She's annoyed, he's shrugging, his mouth forming words I can't hear but kind of want to know.

I drag my eyes away, seeing Jess looking at me with a smirk on her face.

"What about you? How are you?" I ask before she can say anything. Jess has been quiet so far. She's always been the shy one, out of all of us. The kindest mother hen.

"Surviving, just about. Seeing this fella I met on Plenty of Fish. Keep matching with this dickhead though," she nods at Edward who shifts into the booth beside me again, pitcher and straws in hand.

"So... why don't you two go out?"

Some kind of silent conversation passes between them.

Jess shakes her head and laughs. "I've missed you."

"What?" I ask, confused. I look at Edward.

"Don't look at me," Edward says, picking up his shot glass and raising it. "To gettin' fuckin' legless."

We chink our shot glasses together and knock them back to a drumroll beaten out by Liam on the table top.

Edward doesn't even wince.

I shudder.

Jess chokes and splutters.

"God's sake. That is fuckin' awful."

…

"Wait, wait, wait. So, no having it off in the on-call rooms? Such a disappointment," Lauren laments. "Casualty and Holby done me wrong there."

"And no McDreamy, either?" Jess adds.

"Are youse being serious? That's the last thing you want to be doing after dealing with people's bodily fluids. Hospitals are not a turn-on. And a lot of the doctors are proper dicks. Was seeing an anesthetist in my second year, he was also a dick."

"Why?"

I point to the ring finger on my left hand.

"Married. He lied, by the way. I would never have, had I known."

"You sure can pick 'em, hen," Lauren says, leaning over and patting my hand.

Edward sits suspiciously quiet next to me, twisting his empty glass around in between his hands.

"What's the funniest thing someone's got stuck in them?" Liam pipes up, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Oh, Jesus." I sit back. "So you've got high frequency stuff like bullet vibrators, toothbrushes, condoms, bottles, then you got more unusual... vegetables, screwdrivers, and… then you got things like Buzz Lightyear. The guy swore down he fell on it."

"But… Where was it stuck? Up his arse?" Lauren's eyes are wide, a hand clamped over her mouth.

"Mmhmm," I hum, my lips finding my straw.

Edward brings a fresh pint glass to his mouth, leaving foam on his top lip that he swipes away with his tongue. "Well then. To infinity and fuckin' beyond."

...

Several rounds later, we're all steadily getting drunker. The music's got louder, we've got rowdier. I feel flushed and hot, my laughter and chatter constant.

When Jared shows up with his girlfriend, Amber, there's no room left in the booth and all the chairs from neighbouring tables have been claimed.

"Stand up," Edward says, his breath tickling my ear.

"Why?"

"Just stand up." I do so with a huff.

He moves along underneath me, so his knees are pressing into the backs of mine.

"Oh, don't! I'll crush you," I tell him, horrified.

"Fuck off," he says, hand sliding round me to his beer, pulling me down into his lap, as if it's a perfectly natural thing to do.

My breathing slows to shallow little intakes of air and I'm hyper aware of his every move, the vibration of his voice from how close our bodies are together, the heat and smell of him. I'm tense for a minute before I relax, his chest against my back as he leans forward to drain his beer, only distracted by what comes next: another tray full of shots bought over by Liam.

"It's time ladies and gents… for a game!" he booms, game show host style. "Never have I ever…"

"No!" Jess cries. "I'm not eighteen anymore! Make it fucking stop."

"Where's the fun in that! Right, who's goin' first…"

Four never have I ever's later, I'm three shots down, and my head is swimming.

"Never have I ever… done anal," Lauren says, as Jess bursts out into peels of laughter and Amber spits out her drink. "What? Exit only, thank you very much," Lauren laughs. "Besides, have you seen the size of his—"

Jess starts singing loudly, fingers in ears. "I don't wanna fuckin' know!"

I cackle, leaning back into Edward, a little too far so my head's on his shoulder.

"Alright?" he says, his nose in my hair as he turns his head to me. I look at him, smiling brightly.

"Yeah."

I lean forward picking up the next shot glass, Edward's hand brushing mine as he gets his too, tossing them back together.

"Bella!" Lauren screeches. "And there I was thinking you was a good girl!"

I raise my hands, face flushing. "Just cos I've done it, don't mean I liked it."

Edward chuckles and I twist to look at him. We're so close I can see every eyelash, and the little scar on his cheek from a fight he got into in year nine.

"Maybe you weren't doing it right." His voice is low.

I shift in his lap, my arm around the back of him now so I'm sat sideways on him. His hand rests on my knee, thumb rubbing over the same patch of skin, Adam's apple bobbing down and then back up as he swallows.

"Never have I ever... fancied a friend," Jess's voice says somewhere behind me.

"Fuck my life," I groan in misery, reaching back for my drink and take a massive mouthful. "I'm gonna be sick at this rate."

Edward flicks me in the temple and takes another mouthful of beer. "Who?"

"Who?" I retort.

He smiles, a secret kind of smile. Slightly smug.

"I asked first."

I shake my head, because I'm pretty sure he knows it's him. All the girls fancied him at school. He never looked twice at me.

His hands move to my waist, tickling the dip.

"Tell me."

"No."

"Tell me."

"Absolutely fucking not."

...

We decide to move to a club when the bell rings for last orders, stumbling out of the pub and down the street drunkenly singing "Mr. Brightside" at the tops of our voices, dodging puddles from an earlier downpour, and running across roads to the blares of car horns.

The queue to get into Fifth is long. Amber almost cries because she's busting for the loo, and when we finally get to the doors, it costs us a fiver each to get in.

"On a fooking Thursday?" Jared complains loudly as the guy taking the cash stamps our hands. "Steady on, lads, cost you a kidney at the weekend. Flippin' rip-off merchants."

"Stop being such a tight-arse," Lauren tells him, playfully shoving him in so the rest of us can follow.

The air becomes hotter as we move deeper into the club; the bass making the walls shake, lights strobing over the crowd on the dance floor as it moves.

It might be a Thursday, but it's student night, and that means the place is packed to the rafters with eighteen-year-olds who look more like they belong in a nursery than in a club. It makes me feel old.

We're straight to the bar, then swimming through bodies to find a space to dance in, drinks in hand.

I sway, drunkenly, arms above my head, screaming along to lyrics that I know, and lyrics that I don't, because no-one can tell, anyway.

People pack in closer, the nearer to 1 AM it gets, music and the lights and the heat eating us up.

I notice the way girls look at Edward. Of course I do. I never not notice it when we're around each other, but tonight he stays firmly at my side, dancing next to me, his rhythm effortless. He notices me watching, taking my hand in his and making me twirl under his arm, his grin wide.

He leaves though, eventually, with a girl who taps him on the shoulder and hugs him. He introduces me to her through loud shouts in my ear, his hand cupped.

"This is Alice! I work with her!"

I wave at her. She's very pretty. She waves back, clutching a vape pen in her hand. Edward leans in closer again.

"Goin' for a smoke. Wanna come?"

Jess is pulling at my arm to stay.

"Go ahead! I'll stay with these. I love this song." My smile feels forced.

Songs pass. Edward doesn't reappear. I try to shrug off the feeling he may have ditched us for his work-friend, but I can't shake it.

A guy bumps into me and apologises. I think. The way he looks me up and down makes me also think it might have been accidentally-on-purpose. It's not too long before his hands land hot on my hips and I'm pulled up tight against him.

Lauren winks at me from where she's dancing in Liam's arms.

"He's fit!" she mouths.

I can't hear what the guy's saying over the music. I don't think it matters. He's got a warm body, and Lauren's right—he is fit, so I don't move away as he grinds into me as we dance. I push back a little, his hands skimming over me, groping my bum and my tits. I get lost for a second, in a haze of alcohol fuelled lust; to being wanted.

When I look up, Edward's standing still, his head twisted towards me, two drinks in his hand. A fleeting look of something passes over his face as our eyes lock.

"You're fuckin' sexy," I think I hear the guy say in my ear as he kisses the side of my face, pulling me back harder against him.

Edward blinks and looks away, elbowed by Jared in the ribs as he jumps madly in the air.

Fingers skim high on my inner thigh. His mouth moves on my skin, but then… just before his lips land on mine, I can smell his breath.

No thanks.

A grimace and I'm moving away, desperate for some air.

The guy catches my wrist.

"Where you going?" he shouts.

"Bogs," I lie.

He tries to pull me closer because he can't hear, but I move my arm out of his grasp. His clammy hands aren't swayed, fingers enclosing tight on my arm again to the point it hurts.

A hand on my waist, another body behind me. Edward looks pissed when I look up.

"Do one," he says, pushing the guy hard in the shoulder, hard enough he stumbles back into a group, spilling a drink all over a girl's dress. People around us stop.

The guy sizes Edward up when he's righted himself, then looks between us. He decides it's not worth it, raising his hands, like he meant no harm, slinking away.

I mumble a, "Thanks," and then I flee, despite catching Edward calling my name as there's a small lull in the music.

I disappear into bright lights and stalls filled with chattering girls in too tight dresses and overdone make-up. A deep breath, mindlessly replaying that look on Edward's face.

His… disappointment, maybe. Or anger. There was something there.

When I come out, he's leaning against the wall opposite, waiting. He waves a pack of Marlboro in my face, tilting his head toward a set of black doors.

It's cold outside, damp air causing me to shiver as it sticks to sweaty skin.

"Why'd you always attract fuckin' plebs?" he asks, placing a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it with a hand cupped against the wind. "Why'd you even entertain that as a good fuckin' idea?"

I shrug. It's not him who has to deal with the aftermath of the guys I go out with. Or sleep with, or whatever.

"I dunno." I lean against the red brick wall behind me, using the lighter he gives me. "Only ones who show interest in me, I guess."

Edward looks like he doesn't believe me. His jaw is tense and his eyes are sharp, despite the amount he's drank.

"What? It's true. First, I was fat. No one wants to be with the fat girl." I laugh. "Remember when Matty D kissed me in year 9 and then told everyone I tasted of lard?"

My cheeks are burning.

"You were never fat," Edward says, vehemently.

I sniff, suddenly feeling tearful and really, really wasted. Not a good combination.

"You can say it. I don't care. You're not going to hurt my feelings." My voice wobbles. I take a deep inhale of smoke.

"I'm not sayin' something that wasn't ever fucking true. He deserved the beatin'' I gave him. Shat himself."

His fist is balled at his side. His other bringing his cigarette to his mouth.

My mouth opens. I look at him stupidly.

"Is that why you got suspended?" I ask before I can stop myself. "You got into a fight with him cos of what he said about us?"

"I'd do it again, too. Fuckin' dickhead."

I faked being sick for three days after Matty spread the lard rumour round the school, and by the time I plucked up the courage to go back in, Edward was already suspended for two weeks. Everyone said their fight was over a nasty slide tackle in football during PE. I never questioned it.

It was nice to imagine he did it for me. I lived on that fantasy for months. Then he started going out with Rosie Hale, and I tried to avoid him and her at all costs. Of course he'd like her. She was pretty, thin, and popular. The opposite of meek, pudgy little me.

He lost his virginity to her too. I heard her bragging about the size of his dick in the toilets at lunch.

My head spins as I take a deep drag, wrapping my arm around myself. Edward reaches out, a warm hand running down my exposed arm. I gaze up at him, flicking ash, trembling slightly under his touch, or the cold I'm not sure.

"You could've been kicked out for that. You knocked his front teeth out. And you got that scar."

My hand reaches out to touch it. Finger tracing the indent. I'm suddenly aware of how very close we are. And how intensely he's looking at me. I'm so close I could count his eyelashes. If I wanted to. His body moves closer, in my space, pressing up against me, my back against the wall.

His head lowers, resting against my forehead. The way he's looking at me making a thousand butterflies explode in my stomach, his eyes fixating on my lips.

And I want it, I really do.

For him to kiss me.

A shout from someone nearby has him looking away and when he looks back the fire in his eyes has gone.

The kiss he brushes on my forehead is light.

And then he steps back. Giving us space.

It stings. Leaving a deep feeling of disappointment in my stomach. Forever in the friendzone.

A rowdy group tumbles outside, someone asking Edward for a light. He pats himself down for the lighter and then realises it's still clasped in my fist. Prising it out of my hand, he gives it to them, engaging in a random conversation.

I study him the whole time, bleary-eyed, thought process dulled.

"Were you going to kiss me?" I ask him when his attention turns back to me, bringing the cigarette to my lips again.

He says nothing, then he slowly nods.

"Why didn't you? I would have let you," I admit, biting at my lower lip, tears stinging my eyes.

He leans in now, plucking the cigarette from my fingers, placing it between pink lips. I can hear the sound it makes as he takes in a deep lungful. Hot air burning.

"Because you're really drunk," he tells me.

My head tilts back against the wall and I look up at the night sky. It spins. My legs feel wobbly, like they can't hold me up. I sniff.

He's right.

I am really drunk.

"Okay," I say, trying to focus on him. "Not cos of any other reason? Like, you find me minging?"

He snorts and shakes his head.

"Bore off."

"Or cos you're seeing the girl from behind the bar at the Phoenix?"

Another drag on my cigarette. I try to grab it off him, but instead he tosses it, caging me against the wall. I cling to it, weak-kneed.

"No. I'm not seein' her."

"Now."

"What?"

"You missed off now. You're not seeing her now." I jab at his chest, my finger planting in soft cotton.

"Jesus. Fine. I banged her once. She sounded like a yappy little dog, and I wanted it to be over. That what you want to hear?"

I blink.

"Okay."

His hand finds his head, running through his hair, making it even more wild.

"When I kiss you. I want you to remember it. Cos right now, I don't think you will."

He's wrong.

I'd definitely remember it.

"C'mon, let's get you home."

"I don't want to go home," I whinge, looking back at the club, eyes drifting unfocused over the street. "What about Liam and Lauren and… the others? I haven't been out in for-ev-er."

"Liam and Lauren bailed. Jess is with her fella. Jared and Amber met some other people they know. It's just me and you."

"Oh."

"You're welcome to crash round ours if you don't wanna go home. Can get some scran in and play CoD. I'm starved."

"O-kay."

…

There's a dull ache when I wake up, ears ringing, mouth dry. I slowly sit up in a bed that isn't mine, in a flat I don't recognise. The bedroom is on a mezzanine level, I can see the living room downstairs through glass.

I vaguely remember falling through the door with Edward, tripping up over his pile of trainers by the door and lying on the carpet, his face above me.

His nice face.

I think I may have said that aloud.

I cringe.

I can't remember coming up here though.

The drum beats in my head, uncomfortable and loud. Two fingers either side of my temple and a lingering cry of why, why, why.

My phone beeps from somewhere close by and I fumble for it. Notifications from Instagram and Facebook filling the screen. They take me to comments on photos Lauren and Jess have tagged me in from last night. A quick scan tells me most of them are blurry and dire, but there's a couple of Edward and me before we got wasted that are... nice. Me on his lap. The look he's giving me when I'm not looking, soft. Maybe even… enamoured. Or captivated.

Rosie Hale's left a comment underneath it.

Is that Bella Swan? Are they together?

My head throbs. Nosey cow. I toss my phone down on dark covers.

Edward's asleep next to me. Bare arms under his head, sheets pooling down around his waist, Calvin Klein boxers on. He's fit. Toned. I allow my eyes to wander and then I avert them.

No point in dwelling.

Snail-like, I slip out of bed, narrowly managing to avoid tripping over a bucket Edward must have placed next to the bed. Carefully I creep down the stairs in search of paracetamol, a glass of water, and to try to do something about whatever died in my mouth.

Edward's place is the epitome of bachelor pad. Massive TV, modern furniture, a signed Man United football t-shirt framed on the wall. His flat looks out on the river, the day well underway outside these four walls.

I find the bathroom, sitting on the closed lidded toilet, willing the nausea away. In the end, I make myself throw up. Better out than in. I close my eyes for a second, curled up on the bath mat. It helps. I think I might even fall asleep again.

Startling some time later, I stand and rifle through the bathroom cabinet, managing to find a spare toothbrush and own-brand Tesco paracetamol.

Edward stirs when I come back up, slowly stretching out as I sit on the end of his bed and hold out a steaming cup of tea.

"Cheers," Edward says, his voice rough. He winces as he brings the batman slogan mug to his mouth.

This is my city.

"How you feeling?" he asks.

"Felt better," I croak. "I just want to die."

"Don't die," he smiles. "Who's gonna nurse us through this hangover if you do?"

I throw a pillow at him. He saves himself easily, then pats the spot next to him. I crawl over to him as he flicks the TV, curling up next to him, face buried in his covers.

The third time I wake it's to the faint sounds of Homes Under the Hammer, slithers of light creeping through curtains. My head feels a tad better. The churning in my stomach, gone. We've moved in sleep, Edward's arm draped over my hip, his head nuzzled into the back of my hair.

I make to get up, conscious of the time, but his arm stops me.

"Stay."

"I should get goin'. I can't mooch around here all day."

"I don't mind."

His hand rocks me back toward him, so I'm staring into eyes that are tracing over my face. I blink up at him. His smile pulls at one corner of his mouth, hand moving hair behind my ear.

"Are you gonna kiss me now?" I whisper. My hands feel clammy, my belly curling with anticipation.

"You remember?"

I nod.

He smiles, ducking his head, answering with a chaste kiss brushed against my lips, his breath surprisingly minty. He must've gone to the bathroom at some point, I think.

I'm not really thinking about that though when his mouth is pressed to mine and his lips feel soft and… right.

One kiss.

Two.

A moan.

His tongue.

Mine.

I can't get enough. Heated, the anticipation flutters and crawls. Years of want, pooling together. Leaving me breathless.

"It's not all I want to do," he groans, moving over me, in between my legs.

I know that though. His dick presses through sweatshorts, against my inner thigh.

He looks down at me.

"What if this changes things?" I ask, shivering under his touch, staring up into eyes that are heavy.

"What if I want it to change things?" he challenges.

My reply gets lost in a sharp inhale as he nips at my neck, hands gently exploring the soft curves of my tits. He pulls material down and circles a nipple with his thumb, pinching until puffy pink is hard. His mouth moves, teeth grazing, until he takes it in his mouth, one then the other spurred on by the little noises coming out of my mouth.

He gives, and I take it greedily. I don't stop him, but the heat in his eyes tells me he doesn't want to stop either.

So we don't.

He pulls at the tie of my dress, knelt over me, unwrapping me carefully. Like I'm a present. It makes me giggle. He trails hands over pale skin. My bra comes off next. Then my thong. He leans in to kiss me hard and heated.

"You're dead fit."

Naked, his head drops to my stomach, his hair tickling as he bites at my hip. He sucks at that spot as his fingers slip down, and when I look he's left a hickey. Fingers circle my clit and then lower, finding me embarrassingly wet.

One finger. Two. They slip deep.

He groans softly. Heated eyes looking up at me as my back arches.

"Fuck," I whisper. He brings me closer as his fingers find a rhythm, curling against a spot that makes me want to scream. My pants become moans, his eyes moving from where his fingers are to watch my face.

"Come for me." He kisses a trail of fire, a plea into my skin.

"But I want you."

The growl from his throat is animalistic. His boxers shoved down. I shake my head when he reaches for his nightstand.

"Not yet. Let me do this first." I push him back so he's sat against his headboard.

"Your tits are—" he reaches for them but stops, as my hand wraps around his cock; thick, hard and smooth under my hand. "Fuck."

He hisses when I take him in my mouth, eyes rolling back, hand finding the back on my head.

"Shit."

His legs tremor as I work my tongue over him, sucking and licking, his hand guiding the pace. He swells, his hips shifting upward.

"Get up here."

When he reaches for a condom again, I don't stop him.

...

I'm woken to the sound of footsteps coming into my room, and a mug being placed on my bedside table, the bed dipping as someone sits themselves down.

I moan and roll over until fingers are dancing along my arm and I have to crack an eye open.

"Afternoon, sleepyhead."

"Do one," I mumble.

Edward laughs, elbows bracing against his knees.

"I'd rather do you," he says in a low voice.

"What are youse doing here?" I slowly sit myself up, rubbing my eye, stifling a yawn, feeling guilty.

Truth is, I haven't even text him since I crept out of his place on Friday afternoon, leaving him asleep after we... Work has been manic, and I wasn't sure… how to feel. Whether he'd wake up and regret it.

"Football with the gaffer. One - nil up against City. Proper sound goal by Pogba. Half-time now though, your mum said to bring you up a brew. Heard you had a tough shift."

"It wasn't great."

His eyes move over me, leaving me feeling hot under his gaze, remembering… everything. Sex with him. How it felt to have him pounding into me, to ride him. The face he made when he made me come, and the sound he made when he did too. How I felt the ache from him the whole day after.

My thighs rub together, and it doesn't escape his notice. His hands wander. I wriggle under his touch.

"Would you let me?" he murmurs.

"Let you what?"

"Get you off."

"Edward." I almost roll my eyes but I think he's being serious.

He doesn't answer, instead his mouth finds mine and desire runs riot, because kissing Edward is like drowning in years' worth of lust.

His hands on my waist, his knees on the bed, he kicks off his trainers. They land with a dull thud on carpet, and he's over me in seconds, kissing his way down my neck.

"Tell me to stop," he says. But I don't, because I don't want him to. "Bella, if this is—"

"No. Keep going," I urge.

Arching into his touch, legs around his waist drawing him closer, his weight hovers above me as he kisses me, his hand tugging eagerly at my pyjama shorts so they're halfway down my legs.

I groan, as his fingers press and circle, and when he shuffles down and pulls me to the edge of my bed so his tongue is on my clit, I think I might die.

"Oh, fuck."

"Shhh," he whispers.

I clamp a hand over my mouth, before my hand finds his hair and he licks me slowly, swirling his tongue over my clit as his fingers move in and out.

I come too soon, stifling my moan with my hands fisting his hair. He laughs huskily, kissing the insides of my thighs, my belly, hand squeezing my tits again as I slide off the bed and straddle him on the floor, knees on carpet, the roughness of his jeans against my bare thighs.

My lips find his mouth, hands tangling in his hair and when we finally pull apart, the smile on his face is telling. He lifts us up easily, placing me back down on my bed

"Go out with us," he asks, gazing at me with this determined face I've only seen him wear when he really wants something. Like scoring a goal.

"Serious?"

"Dead serious. I've always fancied you?"

"Is that a question?"

"I have," he says, more adamant. His tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. "In that way. But you were never interested… you always went out with..." He grimaces. "And then you went off to uni and I—you were never round long enough for us to ask you. Never single either."

Embarrassment is an odd look on Edward. His cheeks are flushed.

"I was interested! I've fancied you since… since forever. And—Are you embarrassed, when you've just—"

"Just answer the question. You gonna let me take you out, or what?"

He's annoyed. It's cute. Kind of hot.

I bite back my smile.

"Okay."

"When?" he persists.

"How soon is now?"

A&E = accident & emergency department

Fiver = £5 note

Snakebite and black = Cider/larger (50/50) and blackcurrant

Florence Nightingale = founder of modern nursing

Mint= cool

Quid = £1

Buff = naked

Fit = hot/attractive

Trainers = sneakers

Trackies = joggers/sweatpants

Bogs= toilets

Youse = you/you all

Us = me

Sixth form = A Level years pupils aged 16-18, normally attached to a secondary school

Scran = food