I am a fan fiction virgin. Any tips on how to get more readers, or better my story in any way? I could sure use some.
Please, readers, pop my cherry!!
I'd prefer any suggestions in message form, just so I can keep track of 'em.
Thank ya.
Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer.
Bella
It is customary, in a situation like mine, for people to ask if you're okay. For them to obsessively hover over you, looking for any inkling you need help, searching for a cut, a bruise, a broken heart. This doesn't apply to Edward.
Just one more thing about him that's unique and unorthodox. And absolutely lovely.
"You're okay." It's a statement. He tells me this as he helps me out of the backseat of his car, his long fingers having a calming affect on my body. "You're okay," he whispers again.
Edward snakes his around my waist and lets me lean into him. He practically drags me up the walkway to my house, with Alice walking behind and touching my hair every few steps.
Leaning up, I kiss Edward's jaw line--that perfect, square jaw line--as a sort of silent thank you. "I'm okay."
His grip around my waist tightens as he kisses the top of my head, his lips lingering a second longer than necessary on my hair. I think he might be smelling it. Again.
I reach for the doorknob to open the front door, but it swings open before I get the chance, my hand hanging uselessly in midair. There, in the doorway, is an absolutely livid Charlie, mustache and all.
"Isabella Marie Swan." He glares at me, his mustache twitching. "Mary Alice Brandon." Another glare at Alice. "Would you please remind me what time you two were supposed to be home?"
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. "One o'clock, Dad."
"And what time is it now?"
Alice ducks her tiny head down, staring at her shoes and says, "I'm not sure, Charlie."
Charlie purses his lips and looks at his watch. "It is now one-thirteen. That means you are precisely thirteen minutes late. What do you have to say for yourselves."
I can't be sure, but I think Edward might be choking down laughter. And you know what, he is right to. This is so ridiculous, it's almost comical. Almost.
It's incredulous to me that a mere half an hour ago, I was getting taken advantage of by some sleazy college guy with beer stains on his teeth. And now, Charlie is standing here acting like being thirteen minutes late is the end of the free fucking world. The latter seems pretty unimportant in comparison, yet here he is, chiding me over the most trivial of things.
It's not fair. It's not right.
For a millisecond, I consider throwing what happened tonight into Charlie's face, just so he'll shut up about being late, but I've already decided that my dad can not find out about tonight. I mean, Alice and I were supposed to be at a "small get-together." How would I explain the raging party full of potential rapists?
"Well, Bella?" Charlie asks. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Fucking Christ, Charlie!" I shout, surprising all of us. All three of them stare at me, with equal looks of shock on their faces. But I just keep on going, keep on venting. "It's thirteen minutes, it's not a big deal. Let it go!" I huff a few times, while they all look at me, wide-eyed.
After what feels like forever, Charlie finally snaps his mouth shut. He glares at me one time, his mustache twitches four times, and he purses his lips two times. "I think it's time you got home, Edmund."
Seriously? "Edward, Dad! His name is Edward! Jesus, Dad, how many times--"
"It's okay," Edward interrupts. It's amazing how just the sound of his velvety voice can completely dissipate my anger. "I really should be going." He smiles that absolutely angelic smile that makes me feel like I have jelly for joints and noodles for bones. He shakes Charlie's hand and begins walking off the porch, but as he passes me he whispers, "You're okay," in a voice that is so deep and gravelly and sexy and just perfect that I almost want to cry. A shiver runs down my spine.
Charlie runs a hand over his stubbly cheek and looks at me funny. "Bella? What the hell are you wearing?"
Oh. Right. Edward's shirt. The clothing from a God's back. Adonis's button-down. The fabric from a deity's closet.
Thankfully, Alice steps in. "Clumsy Bella strikes again, Charlie." She chuckles nervously and runs a hand through her raven hair. "She, umm, spilled salsa all over herself…so Edward let her borrow his shirt." It's a totally lame excuse, but Charlie, being the clueless man he is, seems to accept it.
He heaves a sigh, shaking his head, and growls, "Get inside, you two. Now."
Alice and I both shuffle past Charlie, into the warm house. Dad follows in after us and locks the door. We hear a distant beeping outside, and I smile, imagining Edward honking his horn, saying goodbye to me and reminding me that I'm okay.
Charlie motions for us to sit down on the couch as he settles into his old recliner. "I don't know what's going on with you girls this weekend--the new clothes, the boys, the parties--but I'm not sure I like it."
"We haven't done anything wrong, Dad."
He gives me one of those deep looks that only fathers know how to give, the ones that seem to look right through you, through all your facades, and see everything you don't want them to see. "Not yet."
---
Accidents seem to follow me around, creeping behind every corner and jumping out when I least expect them. That's how it's always been for me.
When I was four, I stepped on a nail that was hidden in Renee's shag carpet. She had been hanging up some of the photos she'd taken in her photography class, and the nail had fallen out of the tin can we kept them in.
I had shrieked in horror, until Renee came over and wrapped my foot in the bottom of her dress, effectively hiding the blood and all evidence of injury--besides the dull pain. Needless to say, the dress was ruined, but my foot survived.
Then, when I was nine, I got lost in Disney World. I had wanted to get Mickey's autograph, so I ran off without telling Charlie.
It took thirty-three minutes and two security guards to reunite me with my dad, and by then, Mickey had retired back to his little condo in Toontown. I never got that autograph, and Charlie insisted on holding my hand for the rest of the day.
So it's safe to say I am used to being in the middle of drastic situations. But the important thing is, I always come out the other end. I may enter through the shithole, but I always, always exit through somewhere much more pleasant.
In other words, I don't let things get to me. Life is too short. Couple that with my proneness to attract disaster, and the results are not too pretty. If I want to be happy, I just can't let things break me down.
What happened with James is no exception. Sure, I was upset--shocked, even. But just like the nail through my heel, and Renee's ruined dress, and Mickey's absent autograph, and Charlie's sweaty palm on mine--it's in the past.
Over. Done with. Old news.
I'm not going to let one skeezy college kid ruin my high school year, my life, whatever.
Alice can't seem to accept this. Apparently, my logic doesn't make sense to her. She thinks I should tell Charlie everything, get him to track the fucker down, and get some "closure."
She doesn't get it.
Shit happens. Especially to me. But what's done is done and a bad attitude isn't going to change anything.
"I won't do it, Alice. It'll only create more problems than it will solve." I'm sitting pretzel-style on my bed, one of my many tattered books in my lap. Alice is sitting on the wooden rocking chair across from me, the one I've had since I was a baby, with a worried look on her face. And to be honest, I'm sick of everyone looking at me like I'm about to go off the deep end. I'm okay, really. Edward said so himself.
"Bella…" Alice says skeptically. She rocks forward on the chair and rests her elbow on her knee, looking at me.
"Really," I say. "I'm over it. In fact, tonight has just proved to me that I need to get out more. I need to stop wasting my high school freedom."
What if something truly awful happens next time? What if I fall down the steps and become a quadriplegic? Then I'll never get to enjoy myself. Then I'll never get to enjoy Edward Cullen and all the goodies that come along with him.
Because let's be honest. How could I ever stay mad at someone that inhumanely gorgeous?
Alice just gapes at me. "You're insane."
"No." I shake my head. "I'm not."
Not really, anyway.
Alice
The rest of the weekend passed uneventfully. Bella continued to be absolutely apathetic when it came to the situation with James, and I continued to try to comprehend what she was thinking.
It's no secret that Bella is a hazard. Anything bad that can happen to her, will happen to her. I've come to love and hate that about my best friend.
So I suppose it makes sense that Bella is an expert at overcoming the shittiest of occurrences. But that doesn't explain why being quasi-raped made my dear best friend want to go out more.
She should have been huddled in a corner, wrapped up in a tiny ball, and contemplating slitting her wrists. That would have been a reasonable reaction. Deciding that she wanted to go to more ragers and keggers…that just made her crazy.
My crazy, hazardous, amazing best friend. No one else but Bella Swan could take an almost tragedy and turn it into something positive.
Edward Cullen may have had something to do with Bella's decision. Him and his scintillating smile. If I weren't so hung up on Jasper Whitlock--asshole tendencies and all--I probably would have turned to mush at the sight of Cullen, too.
After a while, I just stopped fighting her. I wasn't about to make things worse by dwelling on what happened. If Bella wanted to continue our little journey to high school popularity, then who was I to tell her she couldn't? I'd stay by her side, no matter what she wanted to do.
Which is why I set my alarm for the godawful hour of four a.m. today. Bella and I made an agreement that if we were going to continue this scheme to get to the top of the Forks High food chain, then we were going to do it right. Lacy bras and strappy heels included.
"On Monday, I want to look fuckgood," Bella had told me the night of the party, right before she drifted off to sleep. And she will. Because no one looks less than fuckable when Alice Brandon is concerned.
If it means that I have to wake up at the crack of dawn and drive to Charlie's with a box full of Bella-sized clothing, then, gosh darnit, I'll do it. Which I am. And, mind you, it sucks. Waking up at the crack of dawn, I mean.
Bella and Charlie are still asleep when I get there. Lucky bastards.
But not for long.
"Bella Bella Bella!" I sing, sitting on her and unceremoniously bouncing up and down. "Wake up wake up wake up!"
A hand comes up at swats at me blindly, but I ignore it and continue my bouncing. I'm probably enjoying it a little more than I should be.
Before I can enjoy it any longer, though, I'm on the ground and Bella is towering over me, her hair in every direction and her eyes crusted with sleep. "What. The. Fuck," she snarls in a sleepy, yet surprisingly intimidating voice.
I just smile up at her. "Good morning to you too, sleepy head. Let the beautifying begin."
---
To say that Bella and I look damn good for school today is a huge understatement. We look Megan Fox good. We look Robert Pattison good. We look Jasper Whitlock good. And that is quite the achievement, if I do say so myself.
I'm dressed in dark grey skinny jeans and black pumps with a white top, and one of those thick black belts that goes right under my tits and makes me look all curvy. I straightened all my spikes out, so my hair is a sleek bob that frames my face and my eyes are all smoky with grey eye shadow.
Then there's Bella. I've always imagined Bella as a bohemian hippie type girl, so I got her this lilac peasant top that gathers at the waist, making some of her stomach and jutting hipbones stick out. I paired that with holey, vintage jeans, a belt, and sexy knee-high boots. Her hair is cascading down in shiny brown waves and her big chocolate eyes are void of makeup. She doesn't need it.
The looks we get in the parking lot confirm my assumptions. People are flat out staring at us. Rosalie Hale included. My outfit puts her khakis and cheap loafers to shame.
The fierce foursome have always congregated in the same spot before school. Every morning, they migrate to the spot right under the huge Forks High sign and sip their Starbucks coffees, chatting about the latest hookups and whatnot. Today they're all there, just like every other day. Jasper is leaning against a tree, smoking a cigarette and minding his own business. Rosalie is tucked under Emmett's huge arms, fixing the collar of Edward's shirt, who is on the other side of her. She looks at me and Bella again, her eyes narrowed into two slits.
Edward notices Rosalie's disgusted expression, and he turns his head in our direction. The moment his eyes land on Bella, he takes in every inch of her, absorbing the modest cleavage peeking out from under her shirt and savoring the way her jeans hug her thighs. And then he promptly looks away, like he's trying not to get caught ogling.
I'm about to dissect his every movement with Bella, when I hear my name being shouted from the most perfect lips, and I see Jasper barreling towards us, in all his blonde-haired glory. He skids to a halt right in front of Bella and me, panting for air. "Hey," he wheezes.
Bella says hi, but I respond by crossing my arms and openly glaring at him. After the stunts he pulled at the party the other night, that jackass doesn't deserve my hellos.
"Listen," Jasper says awkwardly, "Edward told me what happened. With James." He looks at Bella, his eyes soft and apologetic. "I'm so sorry, Bella."
She opens her mouth to respond, but I cut her off. "She doesn't need your apologies, Jasper. Now, if you'll excuse us…" I grab Bella's arm and start to lug her away, but Jasper stops me by grabbing my arm and tugging me lightly back to him, my name leaving his lips in a broken whisper.
"Alice. Wait." The way his eyebrows are all knit together makes him look like a sad, pathetic, completely adorable puppy. I want to pinch his cheeks and ruffle his hair. And then devour his face.
Jesus, Alice. Snap out of it.
Jasper throws Bella a pointed glance, and she scurries off toward the main entrance of the school. Which leaves just me and Jasper. Normally that thought would send my heart into overdrive, but now it's got me on the verge of hyperventilating. "What do you want, Jasper?"
"I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry for being such a dick the other night. I mean, if me and Edward would have just listened to you and Bella, and been, you know, a little nicer, maybe…maybe that whole thing with James wouldn't have happened."
Ah. So the guilt is eating away at him, is it? He's not apologizing for hurting me, he's apologizing because he feels responsible for Bella. Which he isn't. No one is responsible for that, except for that perv James.
"If you feel so sorry about what happened to Bella, then maybe you should be telling her this, not me." I don't want to hear it.
He looks at his feet. "Alice, I'm not good at this shit." Obviously. "What I'm trying to say is…I was an asshole. And I really don't want you to hate me like this. I can't take you hating me." And when he looks at me, I can tell he means it. He's back to being that boy who held me on his couch and told me not to cry when I humiliated myself. Right now, the asshole I met at the party doesn't exist. This is the Jasper I obsess over.
"I forgive you," I sigh. The grin on his face is worth it. He's positively beaming. And then his grin slowly fades, his lips parting and his head dipping towards mine, and before I know it, all the air is leaving my lungs. His lips are on mine, fitting perfectly against them, shocking them in the best way. It's a short kiss, so short that probably no one even noticed it, but it's enough to make me dizzy.
Too soon, he leans back, smiles a sweet smile, and whispers, "See ya, Alice."
I watch as he walks away, back to his friends, his hair whipping in the wind. Refusing the urge to touch my still-tingling lips, I power-walk into the school and into my homeroom, practically knocking over some freshman in the process.
---
After homeroom, I find Bella at her locker. She's trying to run her fingers through her hair, but they keep getting stuck in the curls. "Hairspray is officially banned from the Swan household," she mumbles, barely even looking at me.
How can she be so calm? I feel like the world is falling out from under my feet. Jasper just kissed me, after being the best guy in the world, to being a total ass, to apologizing for being said ass. I'm so confused, yet here's Bella, acting like everything's just fine and dandy.
"Bella." She looks at me and chews on a fingernail. I don't even have the energy to yell at her for ruining the manicure I slaved over. "Emergency meeting at my house. Tonight. After school. Be there."
Ehh. Nothing too exciting, but it had to be done. Review pleaseee.