C H A P T E R O N E - Roman Duda
"I won't let you do this," Angela looks into my wide eyes, hers steeled.
She's expecting me to fight.
There is no fight in me left.
I merely turn to face her. She's wearing a peasant blouse, blue jeans, and Chucks. She slides a tray of food towards me as she plops down on the chair next to mine.
"You are going to eat this shit, or I will shove it down your throat. I can't watch you do this to yourself anymore."
I had never heard Angela swear before.
I take the shit from her and take a generous bite, peeling off half and handing it to her.
She raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment.
I wonder if she'd noticed they never seem to eat anything, their trays filled with food they can never digest. Fork meet pizza. I wonder if she'd noticed how they played with their food, biding their time until the bell rings and they rise unceremoniously, gracefully, dumping their props of uneaten food as they exit the cafeteria. Spoon meet yoghurt. I wonder if she'd ever been the prop, the tool, the means to the end.
Together, Angela and I eat everything on the tray.
..
By the end of the week I fill out my favorite pair of hip hugging jeans that I had abandoned after they left. My favorite bras and thongs fit comfortably. The sundresses I tucked into my suitcase with little intention of ever wearing are snug on my body. My ribs aren't protruding from my body anymore. I look healthy.
Angela is brushing my hair, her fingers combing through the strands.
Her warm body presses against my back on my bed.
She doesn't treat me like a doll, like her own personal Bella Barbie. The movements of her hands are comforting; my scalp is tingling, not burning. Angela is my friend. Not a psychic pixie who molds me into the shape of the day. I can't recall spending more than a couple of hours with any of the Cullen's other than Edward. Not even Alice. Little Alice who spun illusions of friendship and family. Of bonds that grow stronger through time and never wane. Of Edward. Of eternity.
Angela is actually my friend. There is no grandeur. There is only me and Angela.
Sweet human, lovable, Angela. She isn't going to phase into a giant wolf or try to eat me for dinner.
It's funny how the thing I missed most about the Cullen's is how human they made me seem. When you're eating lunch with vampires, being born middle aged and tripping over your own feet seems normal in comparison.
Angela finishes combing my hair with her fingers and works on braiding my strands. I arch my back as she tugs a little too hard on my hair.
"Sorry," she murmurs into my hair.
She taps my shoulders when she's finished, pirouetting off my bed and grabbing the lime green Gucci I bought her for Christmas.
I'm off the bed just as fast, rushing over to the floor length mirror in the corner of my room.
"You don't think this is too much skin?" I question my reflection, my hands tugging at the shorts that my ass cheeks are practically falling out of.
"You look hot Bella, Roman is going to flip." She pushes me out of the way of the floor length mirror so that she can admire how perky her boobs look in her costume.
My hands reach towards the heart shaped locket that adorns my neck. I grasp it softly, twirling it between my fingers. Thinking about Roman.
..
The thing about Roman Duda is that he met me at my very worst. Roman Duda found me after they left, after he left. Roman Duda carried me bridal style to the hospital and called my father.
Roman Duda stayed long enough after my father arrived and the nurses and doctors looked me over and gave me a clean bill of health to program my number into his phone and invite me to dinner.
Me with my blue lips and gooseflesh. Me with this invisible hole crippling me.
..
Friday night turned into next Saturday, turned into next Tuesday. The thing about Roman Duda is that he's become a central piece in my life. The reason that the crippling hole didn't spread, devouring the parts of me that were previously spared by his departure. Roman Duda became a replacement.
Roman Duda also became the ticket to all the social events in Forks that were once unavailable to us. Friday night keg parties. Drinks at the Roadhouse.
Angela and I wrestle with the mirror in my rusty Ford. Applying lipstick and retouching mascara and primping hair. Our heads pressed together. A knock promptly separates us. Angela smears lipstick down her chin, the tube of mascara drags down my cheek.
Startled, we both look towards the window. Ben's standing outside with a grin plastered on his face, his hand held over his open mouth in mock horror. Angela and I turn back towards the mirror, fixing our faces, before climbing out of the beast.
Angela propels herself into Ben's awaiting arms and I'm allowed a moments worth of jealousy before I am scooped off the ground and into a pair of muscular arms. I squeal in surprise.
Roman sniffs my hair, his stubble brushing against my neck. The next thing I know he's peppering kisses along my jaw.
"Laura Croft huh?" He whispers into my skin.
I mumble incoherently.
The thing about Roman Duda is that he's built like a Mack truck and has the face of a GQ model. If it weren't for the natural tan and cerulean eyes, I'd think the blood pumping through my veins was the motivation for his seemingly undying affection.
And I'm staring into his cerulean eyes, my hands grazing his stubble, my thumbs brushing his lips, my lips replacing my thumbs.
"You coming?" Angela questions, dancing in Ben's arms at the newly opened door.
Strobe lights flash incessantly. Decibels shake cement.
I watch as a drunken woman stumbles outside, fingers grasping the door frame, huddled over momentarily. She makes it as far as the steps before she empties her stomach.
I cringe and bury my face in Roman's muscular chest. He swings my legs out from under me, draping them over his arms. One moment my feet are planted firmly on the ground, and the next Roman is carrying me up the steps. His lips distracting me from noticing the woman doubled over, heaving chunks. Roman makes it easy to forget. Everything. I snuggle closer into his chest, his arms enclosing me, protecting me. And together we cross the threshold.
..
I remember this night fondly. This is the moment I decide Roman Duda will be my first. Everything. The first time I have to walk with a slight limp in my step because my boyfriend has the stamina of a race horse. The first time I have to forgo school in favor of sitting a bag of peas because my ass is pounding. The first time, in a long time, I can look in the mirror and see me, not the ragdoll the Cullen's left behind.
A/N: Sorry I didn't post this sooner. I didn't know where I wanted to go with this story and the muses were not cooperating. I was going to include the Cullen's but there is another "Jennifer's Body" fic that goes into that territory, so don't expect Alice and Edward to swoop in and save the day… anytime soon at least. This story is going to be entirely from Bella's POV, and will not have much, if any, Bella/Jacob, because my Bella would probably eat him, and I love Jake too much to write his murder…. Tyler, Mike, and Eric on the other hand? Roman and the band mates from Low Shoulder are the only characters from Jennifer's Body that will be in this story. I didn't want to make Jake into a character that Bella abuses in order to get what she wants and get over the Cullen's.
And now that you are all bored to death by the AN, I should inform you that the next chapter should hopefully be up next week. I've already started on it, and have an idea of where I'm going with this fic so, expect something next Wednesday.