Title: The Fast and the Frivolous

Summary: Edward Cullen is your typical teen, who has crushed on Bella since he moved to town. He feels he isn't worthy… is he right?

Pairing: Edward / Bella

Rating: M

Word Count: 4832

DISCLAIMER: Twilight and its inclusive material is copyright to Stephenie Meyer. Original creation, including but not limited to plot and characters, is copyright to the respective authors of each story. No copyright infringement is intended.

The Fast and the Frivolous

EPOV

The text in front of me blurred as the tinkling sound of her laughter invaded my once focused mind when she strolled into the diner that I practically called home. The diner was one of the only bright and cheery locations in this dreary town. Perhaps that was why it was always jam-packed with people, hoping to brighten their moods among the bright-colored décor: the glow of the neon accenting the ceiling and walls and the bright red and white chairs and booths somehow complimented the checkerboard floor and wall accents while the various signs scattered around the walls promoted everything from Coca-Cola to Route 66. It was lively and full of overly giddy, fake, and superficial people, apart from the rare few "normies" that were scattered about the place.

And Bella Swan was FAR from a "normie". She was… exquisite, fascinating, engaging, polite, and perhaps every other positive adjective a guy would use to describe his dream girl. I was enthralled and … just plain fucking pathetic over her. Pathetic in a way that my friends and sister used to poke fun at me every day and twice on Sunday. There was just something about the way she giggled or consoled her friends during bad times, something that drew me to her. She made the rest of the room fade away like they were non-existent.

Always.

Fuck, she was gorgeous and entirely out of my league. Not that it mattered to my heart. Since the first time she skipped across the street over a decade ago, I was hooked, entranced. Isabella Swan came bouncing onto my radar and my heart was snatched into her clueless grasp. Now, instead of the Battle of Hastings, my focus was on the tiny form I could feel vibrating towards her typical front-and-center table with the Neanderthals she associated with. Sighing, I close and roll my eyes at the irony and allow my head to fall back against the back of the corner booth I was sulking in as I awaited the expected, and yet dreaded, stomach clenching and nausea to begin as it always did each time I was in her orbit. Her presence alone always made me unexplainably nervous.

Forks Diner has been a second home since my family moved here. My father got an offer he couldn't refuse when his brother, Aro, offered him a partnership at his small-town garage. Dreaming of a future where he could perhaps offer his wife and small family the life, he felt we deserved, he eagerly accepted and uprooted us even though their relationship had always been strained. What Carlisle never realized was that none of us needed more than the cozy warmth of our trailer in the blandness of Arizona. We didn't need fancy cars or expensive things; we had what too many families seem to lack: each other.

No one complained when we packed up our limited possessions, preparing for the "adventure of a lifetime" he basically tossed us carelessly into. Mom would never hesitate to jump in headfirst into following his dream or to give her whole heart to supporting that dream. Esme was the ultimate nurturer and living angel; a mom who's smile melted any icy demeanor and whose kisses could make all of your hurt go away. Sometimes I feel it is her optimism and knowing looks that keep dad motivated at this point, where after ten long years of "waiting" have yet to achieve any notable goal or change in lifestyle for the Cullen's.

I exhaled slowly as I tried to pull myself together while ignoring the silent monologue of my inner demon, who rolled his eyes and mocked me for acting like a love-struck fool. Just the idea of emotionally subscribing to that West Side Story or Great Expectations rhetoric made my stomach churn. Let's face facts. Reality shows that these cliques and gaggles of people form emotional bonds over similar interests and lifestyles. And a low-rent kid like me didn't stand one fuck's of a chance with the daughter of Fork's local hero and highly respected member of the middle-upper class, Charles Swan.

But mom always quotes Emily DickinsonDickenson who said, "The heart wants what it wants."

Just as I lifted my lids slowly in an attempt to covertly watch her, I noticed the check pad approaching my face to hit my head with a gentle swack. My eyes widened at my sister as I felt the embarrassed blush rush forward to my cheeks. My eyes then darted over to the table where the Swans were "holding court" in alarm, my stomach churning with the thought that our school's "royal court" would now have more ammo to throw my way. I let out a relieved breath when I realized they were too preoccupied enough to not notice my sister's reprisal. Bella was animatedly waving her arms in the air as she spoke to her brother and his friends and, as usual, didn't even notice I was sharing the same airspace.

"Edward!" Rose hissed at me in an attempt to stop my ogling, "Stop tuning me out!"

I glared at her, which turned out to be a mistake. Rose's expression mimicked someone who just sucked on a lemon, and I had to stifle a laugh in order to not make this situation any worse. "Don't freak out, Rosie. I was just … thinking. There is zero need to flip your wig!" I grumbled as I lowered my gaze to the checkerboard floor beneath her impatiently tapping foot. The last thing I needed was Rosalie drawing attention, which was pretty hard for my mirror warming fox of a sister not to do just by simply existing.

Rosie flopped into the booth and leaned her chin on her hands as she smiled softly at me. "You should just go talk to her, Edward." She stated softly. "Don't be a square. How do you know she isn't into you?"

I barked out a laugh at that, then cringed because, as I already mentioned, I was not trying to stand out in a crowd but preferred sticking to the shadows where I was better camouflaged.

"Be real, Rosie. Why would she EVER be interested in me?"

"You act like she is some shrew, Eddie. She's a pretty cool chick, and my friend… in case you forgot." One of her dimples winked at me when she smirked, disarming me. "And it isn't like you are some troll. You are damn hot! If you didn't sulk all day about not having Bella's attention, maybe you could act out some of those dirty thoughts that I overhear plaguing your dreams at night. The walls are pretty thin, ya know?"

She wrinkled her nose at her last statement, because who would want to know about her big brother's wet dreams about her friend. Only Rose could pull off any look and still resemble a living Barbie doll.

I lucked out in the little sister department honestly. Rosalie's beauty was not only skin deep but encompassed her entire form. For a knockout, she was ironically compassionate and kind, loyal, and fierce. And Bella always had time to stop and visit Rose here or invite her out one whatever excursion she was headed to. Rose usually hesitated since we couldn't really afford for her to spend money frivolously. And she knew that Bella would offer to cover it, yet Rosalie was embarrassed by our financial struggles and didn't want the town to whisper she was taking advantage.

Her face lit up then, as she had some sudden thought, "I know!" she exclaimed excitedly., "You could talk about Shelby!"

I shouldn't be shocked that she wanted to brag about Shelby. After all, she put in just as many hours of elbow grease into patching her up and bringing her back to her prior glory. But why would Bella want to talk about anything related to the garage, especially not when…

"Who's Shelby?"

My head whipped up upon hearing that voice, extremely close., and I became confused as I noticed Bella's face as she spoke, with one eyebrow quirked up and her expression between confused and accusatory, as she asked me about my car. Even worse was that if I looked past her, I knew I would witness the rest of her table staring over at us dumbfounded that Bella would venture over to this low-class infiltrator to their personal hangout space.

She's staring at you… say something, you jackass!

I shook my head to silence my inner grumbling and tried to recall what she just asked. What about Shelby? WhoHO was she? It hit me then, as I continued to gawk at her like a dunce, that she didn't realize that Shelby was not actually a she, but an it: my car, a red and white 1965 Mustang Shelby GT 350. How my uncle and father acquired the beaten and barely running car last year was never discussed., Nor was the fact that instead of gifting it to a moody teen, with little direction and even less motivation, they could have sold it as-is and made a profit which may have been half the cost of the house we're currently calling home.

But no, they wanted to give me "purpose" and swore that it would be exactly what I needed to get some special girl's attention one day. I only ever wanted that type of attention from Bella, and now it seemed that Shelby may actually help me get her attention. Maybe those two cranky old farts knew more about Isabella Swan than I did. Bella had apparently noticed Shelby, just not as I had expected. No, Bella thought Shelby was a girl and was not particularly amped about her existence.

Which made zero sense considering I was invisible to her. Apart from the random "Hi"'s and "What's up?"'s, Bella and I never spoke, nor had she ever indicated Ii even existed. She just lived her carefree life and brightened the world around her personal orbit. That orbit extended to my sister, but I could only hope to catch a tiny hint of warmth when she happened by the shop or came by the shack we lived in to visit. Her focus was always on Rosie and whatever girly crap they were planning. Why would she, when she and her dickburger of a boyfriend, James, had been solid since her freshman year?

I heard her huff at my silence and was relieved when Rosie saved my mute ass by chiming in, "Only one of the hottest cars I have ever had my hands on, Bells! You know that white-striped red beauty that is tucked away in the back corner of the garage? THAT is Shelby." Rose is bouncing in her seat as she speaks, giving away the fact that the girl knows and cares more about cars than a female should.

"Are you flipping serious?!" Bella shrieks in a rather high-pitched tone, as she starts jumping in place in tandem with Rose's bouncing. "THAT CAR? Does it run? Why don't you drive it? Rose, why didn't you TELL me?!"

I chuckle over her enthusiasm. And how she kept rapidly firing questions. This is what Rose meant when she suggested I should try to talk to Bella. She was Rosie's car soul sister, an adrenaline junkie for oil and metal. And Ii was absolutely blindsided by the fact that this could be a way for us to connect, and that Ii never realized her interest nor that getting closer to her could ever be quite THAT easy?

The ongoing hesitation was …... What did I really know about Isabella Swan? Did I cast her into a stereotypical mold and assume she would never even look at me or show interest because of her standing in our little town of Forks? What else have I missed? And how could I be so over-the-moon for someone whose interests I knew little to nothing about?

I think back to when we first met her family when we moved here. She stole my heart with her curly pigtails and freckled face. She was a happy, bubbly, and loving little girl, which stood her apart from most of the kids in her social circle. Apparently, when you have money, you can act like a cocksucker to individuals who don't without reprise. We commoners, we typically ignored or looked down upon. But not Isabella. She was kind and caring, no matter how much influence your family had or how much money fell out of your pocket. It didn't hurt that she was the prettiest girl I have ever seen. Everyone loved her and, for some reason, she gave that love right back. She was hyper and sassy, sweet yet somehow sour, crazy smart, and quick-witted.

I watched nervously as she bumped her hip against my sister, to scoot over so she could flop down next to her. Rose looked at me expectantly, gently nodding her head in encouragement.

Oh, yea… Still a fucking mime. Cool off, Cullen. Just act like she's ANYBODY else.

Believe it or not, I was not some broke ass square. I only fell into this ridiculous behavior whenever she was around. Perhaps I threw her into a stereotype since I was generally a stereotypical grease monkey, apart from my atypical study behavior. I had no problem getting girls' attention, those crazy local chicks were always crawling out of the woodwork, so a blushing virgin, I was NOT. Yet to look at me now, you would think I was some preteen glimpsing his first tit, with the awkward, dumbfounded manner in which I was now somehow an expert.

I let out a breath and shyly looked over at Bella, who was eagerly waiting for any type of response. "Yea. Ummm…" I slowly started, wishing the floor would just fucking swallow my ass right now. "My pops and Uncle Aro got her for me to tinker with. We got her purring like a kitten again, I just have to finish her paint and detailing work… or doing her make-up, I guess you girls would say." I finished lamely, dropping and shaking my head in defeat as I realize how fucking shallow that sounded. From my current vantage point, I could see several sets of feet approaching.

Just great. The snob squad. Brace yourselves, folks.

"Isabellaaaa," James drawled like he was some French connoisseur or just plain douchebag. "What's …... this?" He waved his smooth non-calloused finger in a circle around the three of us at the booth in front of him, looking down his pointy nose like the snooty fuck that he was. Bella's brothers, Emmett and Jasper, flanked him on either side and while James was glaring, neither Emmett nor Jasper seemed to notice the tension as Bella started chattering about Shelby. Both the Swan's perked up when she started crooning about the car, while James' expression morphed from his usual 'easy-going' look to something dark and sinister. His glare flicked from my face to Bella's, yet predominately the sinister gaze was focused on me.

"1965, huh? Sweet ride! Personally, I prefer older women, and my pretty blue lady is a 1961 Cobra. Runs like a dream, man.

Have you ever raced her?" Emmett blurted out; his eyes full of mischief as his smile grew to Cheshire cat proportions.

He stood there posed with his arms crossed like a typical tough-guy jock: which, of course, he was. A guy looking like Emmett Swan was clearly someone people wouldn't tend to fuck with, being the son of the police chief and a pampered socialite., The Swans were a family people envied and swarmed to like bees to their hive. Emmett was the family Loki, and much like the god of mischief, Emmett was always the jokester and never failed to have something up his rolled-up sleeves.

Both the girls at the table "lost their shit" at that inquiry, and the bouncing up and down across from me caused a nauseous ache to grow that one might assume was a form of motion sickness. was, In reality, was my stomach knotting up from the lengthy nearness of my lifelong crush and the anxiety that I was losing control of at a rapid pace. Race my car? Why in the everlasting fuck would I want to do that when I rarely pulled it out of its spot in my dad's garage?

"Um… well no man," I stuttered out, "I don't really ever drive her. She's a little ostentatious."

When the guys all started laughing and I realized the wording I just used, I cringed into myself trying to sink into the booth and out of sight. What a fuck up. Typically, I could hide behind the stereotype of a grease-covered, blue-collar white trash. I kept to myself, for the most part, striving to make my mother happy by concentrating on schooling and learning the family business. Both of her children achieving greatness was our mom's dream. And as much as Esme sacrificed for us, I would do whatever I could to help her achieve that dream. But that didn't mean I really wanted to be labeled as a total square, so I attempted to speak in simpler terms when I spoke to almost anyone outside of my family.

I could hear them scoffing at me even though I refused to meet their gaze. Instead, I peered up at the girls and noticed how Bella was dealing with the mockery. Unlike her companions, my vocabulary apparently wasn't what stood out. She gasped as her hand flew up towards her throat and her eyes went wider than ever, then exclaimed, "That's why you won't show her off?! I ogle her every time I stop by to see Rose there. I mean Edward, don't you feel like you are neglecting her? Hiding her in a dark and musty corner?"

"Seriously, Isabella. What's your deal with this Ford? I never heard you so jazzed up over my car." James snapped in irritation, clearly displeased with the attention I was receiving for all three Swans right now. James' family owned Newtown's Store in the center of town, so he never knew what it was like to want for anything. James drove a mint condition 1963 black Chevy Impala SS409. If the Swans matching scowls were any indication, the Impala failed to impress the Swans.

"There is so much wrong with that statement, bro," Jasper added as he joined the fray. "It's not JUST a Ford, man. What the fuck is wrong with you?."

Emmett nodded fervently, in complete agreement with his brother, his brows forming a deep Vv on his forehead, then suddenly clearing as an idea seemed to strike.

"Ya know, Wardo," he mentions almost casually, glancing at my sister as he continued, "Listen, we got a race set up this weekend, you should hop in the lineup. See what that baby can do? A little friendly… competition? What do you think?" He offers mischievously, noting the near body blush forming on Rosalie's cheeks and skin.

Way to show your hand, Rose. It was pretty obvious she was internally drooling over the idea, wanting nothing more to be involved in such activities that her gender alone denied her. And that blush was not merely from the shop talk, but from the fact that my sister seemed to think that Emmett Swan hung the fucking moon!

My mouth gaped open at his offer. I had heard of these friendly "races" Emmett mentioned. Our town offered little excitement, and every so often Emmett and his crew of elitist miscreants would find some location, set up shop, and have their own private street race. It was an invitation-only event, of course. A stupid idea really, since there was barely anyone outside their social circle who would be able to afford a car that would be able to keep up. It wasn't helping that I was still an anxious mess over Bella's sudden interest as well as the eager excitement she was showing over the idea of me racing Shelby with her brothers.

James decided to reinsert himself back in the mix as he scoffed at Emmett's suggestion. "Cullen here ain't cut out to run with the big dogs, Emm. "What's the matter; you chicken? Scared to mingle with the big kids and shit?" He sneered. It was evident he was trying to make me back off; to somehow avoid any camaraderie between my family and the Swans. Or, more importantly, my access to Bella; who was currently throwing one of the iciest looks I have ever witnessed at her boyfriend along with my sister, who immediately started to hiss at James in defense.

Somehow at that moment, the picture became crystal clear, and it hit me— - what the actual fuck was I DOING? Here I sat, walking in one of my many Bella- centered dreams. She was close enough to touch, near enough for me to almost feel the energy vibrating through her skin, and smell a hint of the perfume that seemed a natural part of her. And instead of even attempting to connect with the girl of my dreams, I was behaving like a top nerd at the science fair and letting my little sister fight my battles for me and cowering in front of one first-class douchebag like James Newtown. Before I could do that, I needed to focus my damn chi and get my Bella-hazed -thoughts together.

Taking a deep breath and deciding to jump right the fuck into the fray, I straighten up in the booth, look at Emmett determinedly, and after a completely unintentional rush of air, asked as nonchalantly as I could manage, "When?"

To say my dreams the following nights assisted in launching my adrenaline level to critical capacity would be putting it mildly. As erotic as my Bella- inspired dreams have been in the past, they were NOTHING compared to the ones that haunted yet thrilled me on the nights leading up to doomsday. Innocent touches and smoldering gazes warped into bare entangling bodies, shifting effortlessly against each other to provide that warm and tingling friction while our mouths attempt to practically devour each other.

One, in particular, kept making a reappearance, taking place on race day. I can remember every detail and would give practically anything to make it more than just my imagination run amok.

It's the day of the race, and I show up at the garage to meet up with Rosie, who was riding shotgun today. There was no way my sister would miss out on something like this, and who was I to deny her this thrill? I wouldn't. She had been so crazy excited when she realized I was actually going to grow a pair and race today when she knew I was only really doing so to impress Bella. But when I walked into the still dark garage it wasn't my sister, I could see in inside leaning up against the Shelby, but Bella. I pause, no longer walking towards her, glancing around, searching for any glimpse of my sister, but she isn't there.

The shop door closed with a bang, startling me and making my already racing heart go into mega-overdrive. I start forward again, calling out to her to see if my eyes are deceiving me.

"Hey, Edward. I asked Rose to swap out with me today if that's cool? I'm pretty sure she'd rather go with Emm anyway., You don't mind, do you?" She ducked her head down slightly and peeked up at me from under her lashes, and bit lightly on her lip.

Were girls taught this in some type of "Guy Mind-fucking 101" class?

For some reason, "dream Edward" is not quite as much of a pussy as I am in everyday life because he fails to stutter or hesitate like I typically would. Instead, I meet her head-on, stopping just inches from her pretty face. I gaze down at her in amusement, and reply softly, "Definitely do NOT mind, Bella."

Bella then sighed softly, released her lip from its ivory-like prison, reached up and over my shoulders, and grabbed ahold of my hair with each hand, and pulled me down to her. I had waited years to kiss her, and this kiss was the result of all the pent-up frustration and want I had been harboring. I needed to be closer. I wanted to take, possess, control, and devour her slowly and thoroughly.

That first kiss broke the dam holding back all my want, need, and desperation I harbored for her the past several years splintered and burst through all the hesitation and fear of rejection faded into the rush of the moment and I surged forward, pressing her body against the body of the Mustang as my hands began to pull at her clothes, lamenting the fact that there was no easy access to her upper body, without causing her to look entirely too disheveled once we met up with her brothers, Rosalie, and God only knew who else.

My thoughts were disjointed, and my actions purely on instinct as I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her hips against mine, attempting to ease the ache and she, in turn, eased the pressure by releasing my hair and trailing her hands down my neck, along my chest, and down to the waistband of my pants. You can imagine where it goes from there. Needless to say, when we show up at the race, it is clear that we had been up to no good.

The day of reckoning arrived, and I woke up anxious and unsure of myself as my night has been regrettably dreamless. and I could have used the rush of adrenaline that always followed a heated dream involving my personal dream girl.

After showering and donning my lucky jacket and my usual white tee and jeans, I grabbed my keys and headed out to the garage, and just like the dream, the garage was dark when I arrived. Unlike the dream, there was a 1961 Shelby Cobra in the front lot, and not only Bella but her brother and my sister inside, talking animatedly near Shelby, both girls wore dressed in this checker-print button-up shirts tied at the waist and red pants rolled up to expose their calves.

As the door banged shut behind me, all three occupants of the shadowed garage jumped in unison and looked at me expectantly.

"Hey, Wardo! I'm stealing your sister for good luck today, yea? Bells will go with you instead," he waggled his eyebrows and threw me a lopsided grin as he threw his arm around Rosie, nudging and nudged her towards the bay doors. "Don't be late, Isabella." he teased as he threw open the doors and headed outside towards his Cobra.

I was oblivious to Bella's approach until she was right next to me, grabbing the lapels of my jacket and turning me to face her. I looked down at her somewhat dazed, as her nearness dazzled me into stupor sometimes, especially in this proximity. She grinned up at me and wrinkled her nose, much like I had seen my sister do in the past, and bit the corner of her lower lip.

"Bella? You need something," I teased while I could feel the crooked grin appear on my face. Looking down at her, it occurs to me that this might be the moment—, that moment you regret if you fail to do the right thing. "I hope you don't mind the switch off, I definitely prefer your company over my sisters. But please don't repeat that." I raised my finger over my lips like shushing her and started to chuckle.

"Mind?" Bella rolled her eyes, grabbed ahold of my hand, and lead me towards my car. "I have been waiting for you to find your balls to ask me out for years. You and your 'woe is me, I'm not good enough for her' bullshit." She stopped suddenly, whipped around, and poked me in the chest while tossing me a glare. "Did ANY of my family EVER give you a reason to think the money in someone's pocket made them BETTER?" She shook that pretty finger a couple of times and then dropped her hand, sighing.

"You're lucky you are so damn cute and that I have been crushing on you forever or I might have given up. Now let's get this race over with, so we can flip the bird to Jimmy and spend the rest of the weekend doing whatever." She leaned up on her tiptoes and with a quick kiss and a wink she hopped in the car and off we went.

I'd like to say that the underdog was victorious, that I won the race and got the girl, but life isn't a fairy tale. But what I CAN say is just getting the girl was the only prize I ever wanted.