Since this is a regular occurrence among some of my readers, I've decided to put up a warning.

WARNING: This story may be hazardous to your health. Do NOT read while driving. I repeat, Do. Not. Read. While. Driving.

ANOTHER WARNING: In case anyone here is grossed out easily, I'm warning right now, so don't whine about it later! There will be slight graphic imagery of the Female Menstrual Cycle.

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Disclaimer: I don't own shit, except for the plot.

That is all.

Chapter XIX: Prejudicial Judgments

Angela is the first to hound my ass as I make my way to Bob.

She casually stands next to me, leaning on Bob as I take my sweet ass time to unlock the door.

I scowl when she leans on him. Bob is not just a regular piece of metal that you lean on, he's a character so don't treat him like an inanimate object.

He is an inanimate object.

Still, respect the character, girl. Respect the character.

I bite my tongue and let it slide because anyone else will have done the same. Besides, Angela's a good friend so I'm not going to give her a verbal bashing.

Instead of talking about the bronze-haired elephant in the room, I ask her if she wants to go see a movie in Port Angeles. I feel bored and have yet to buy books to keep me entertained. She tells me that she can't but invites me over to her place to hang out so that she can also babysit her twin brothers.

We couldn't really talk about 'the talk' during Biology class.

Class today was… interesting. There was something weird going on between Edward and me when the lights were turned off.

We didn't do any lab work in class, instead the professor opted for watching videos and taking notes. Either he was being lazy or he didn't want to deal with us for 45 minutes.

For the duration of the class, there was this weird pull to touch him. I can't even explain where the pull came from, I just had this need to touch him. So being the stubborn ass that I am, I folded my arms and rested them on our lab table.

From my peripheral vision I saw Edward taking the same position, but every now and then he would look at me from the corner of his eye.

I know all this because I was alternating between staring at the screen and at him. Every time our eyes locked, which happened a lot, he would wink I would blush and the cycle would repeat.

It was sickeningly sweet.

However, the memory that stands out the most is Edward brushing my hair behind my ear, leaving behind a trail of heat as his cold fingers brushed against my cheek.

I turned to look at him in surprise. And even in that dark room, I saw his soft expression and the smile on his face as he did so.

Till now, hours later, recalling the memory of him staring at me with such tenderness causes my heart to flutter.

"Earth to Bella!"

Angela is looking at me with a knowing smirk on her lips.

We're at her place eating pizza while the twins, Joshua and Isaac, are sitting in the living room playing video games. They're cool kids and we bonded a little over video games. I don't consider myself a serious gamer, but I know the games I played with Phil on his Xbox back at home.

"Hmm?"

"I asked if everything between you and Edward is good now?"

That's a difficult question to answer because I don't know where this thing between us will lead. It's true we talked and I feel strongly for him but we didn't really talk about the essentials, yet. So now I'm confused as to where we stand.

This is what I was afraid of, that socializing with vampires will lead to lying to people I care about. But I can't bring myself to regret the decision I made to give 'us' a chance.

I can't explain it, this thing Edward and I have feels right.

I guess now's a great time to put my acting skills to good use.

"Yeah, I guess?" I answer as I set up my ship on the Battleship grid.

Everyone thinks Angela is this quiet, shy girl, I mean she is, but that's all she's known for. What the students at school don't know is that the girl has a penchant for war and shooting games.

I love her!

Girl is bangin'!

She looks at me with questioning eyes.

"I mean, we didn't talk about the reason behind our prank war, but we did talk about the attraction we have toward each other. I'm willing to try it with him, despite the glaring differences between us, which I don't think will be easy to overcome. "

That's as vague an answer as I can provide without telling her about the whole vampire secret; a secret that I undoubtedly don't want Angela to know. It's bad enough that I know, and the burden I carry is heavy; nevertheless, I'd do it only for Edward and his family because I don't want to cause them any problems. They've been nothing but welcoming to me - well, most of them, that is - and I won't betray them by telling anyone that they're vampires.

"That's a good place to start, B. When you become more comfortable with each other you can ask him about his behaviour that first day then gradually work through those differences," Angela reasons.

"To be honest, it's still all surreal to me," I say, then announce a target square, but don't hit anything. Damn.

"Why's that?" Angela asks, then announces a target square which is so far off that I do a little happy dance in my head.

HA! She missed!

It's just a game, relax.

NO! I'm going to own this!

It's my turn again, though I don't hit anything. Bummer.

"It's surreal because one minute he's an asshole, who was in a prank war with me that I initiated based on his assholery, and the next he's kissing me with so much passion! How does that compute?"

Angela is a great listener and doesn't judge or sympathize when I ramble off, which I appreciate very much. The former doesn't surprise me because she's a very kind and gentle person. I'm more appreciative of the latter because if there's one thing I can't stand, it's pity. I don't want someone to feel sorry for me because it implies that I'm frail and incapable of handling situations that are out of my control.

"I can see how it computes. He wouldn't have responded to your pranks if he didn't like you. Remember when I told you that he's smitten with you? I think engaging in a prank war was his way of connecting with you because you can sometimes be closed off to people, B."

I've been telling your ass that hotass has the hots for you but do you even listen? Nooooo! Even Angela can see that shit from miles away yet you're tucking your head in your ass!

Ugh, fine! I may have to reconsider my opinion on the matter.

May? Stubborn ass fool.

It's true. I, unfortunately, do tend to be closed off to people. I'm ready to own that admission and try to be less of an ass to others. I have said that I won't allow my past experiences to affect the way I treat others, but the reality of the matter is I have allowed it to shape my interactions, and still am.

It's time I grow up and get my head out of my ass.

Hallelujah! Thank you almighty Cthulhu!

Smartass.

"Yeah, you're right. I do tend to be closed off sometimes."

Angela gives me her bitch brow. Let me tell you, that shit is scary, though there's no way in hell I'm telling her that.

"Okay, fine!" I concede. "Most of the time I tend to push people away. I can't help but be suspicious of them."

Angela doesn't know the entire story of the bullying incidents that happened to me before I moved here so she doesn't understand my reasoning.

Her intrigue and cautious curiosity reveal that she wants to find out the underlying reason, but despite the fact that I consider her a friend, we haven't reached the stage of familiarity and trust where I can comfortably tell her about those incidents.

Instead of prying for answers, she opts to resume the game and almost strikes my battleship.

Angela has a way of quickly calming a tense situation and I appreciate her for it. I'm very lucky to have a friend as considerate as she.

After a few rounds, where she destroys one of my battleships as I strike one of hers, I try to make conversation to get to know about her a little more.

"What got you into war games like this?"

"My brothers, mostly. They can be overwhelming at times when left to roam about the house, so I sit them down and play videogames and Battleship with them. That's when I discovered my fondness for shooting as a great way to relieve stress."

"You know, sex is also a great way to relieve stress." I wink.

Angela's face turns crimson as she fidgets in her seat and clears her throat, in a vain attempt to regain her composure.

Oh, right. Sex talk must not be part of this family's vocabulary in the raunchiest sense of the word, what with her dad being a minister. Renee had supplied far too many details for a twelve year old to handle during our own talk about the birds and bees, and I'm guessing this family's sex talk had been completely different.

I don't think any family is quite as open about sex as Renee, to be honest.

That's for damn sure!

"I, um, I wouldn't know about that, B. I'm a virgin," she mutters, the blush still on her face.

I'm not really surprised about that since she grew up in a religious environment.

I don't like that she's embarrassed about being a virgin. Or is she worried that I'll somehow tease her about it?

I shrug my shoulders to put her mind at ease. "Someday, when you find a guy who makes your panties wet, you'll remedy that."

"Oh, my God, B. Stop!" Angela exclaims between bouts of laughter.

"What? When the ladies look up that's cue for some dicking."

Angela doubles over in laughter, arms clutching her stomach and tears flowing from her eyes as I watch, grinning the entire time.

When she calms down and is able to talk Angela says. "Oh B, I'm stealing that one!"

"Hey, if you give credit where credit's due, I don't care."

"Deal."

"Sooooo," I drawl. "Is there a guy who makes your kitty purr?"

"Oh, God," Angela palms her flushing face.

"What?" I smile. "I'm attempting girl talk, here. So, have you?"

Angela's lack of immediate denial is all I need. "There is, isn't there?" I lean forward. "Who is it?"

She hesitates for a moment, twiddling her thumbs before looking at me and says. "His name is Ben. He's also in our Bio II class."

Ben, Ben, Ben… Hmmm. I don't recall anyone with that name.

She must have noticed the lack of recognition on my face because she explains. "He's got jet black, short hair. Wears thick framed glasses, is 5'7 and always wears a Star Wars hoodie."

Oh! That guy! He's always looking at her table during class with a longing expression. He's cute, and I bet he has the hots for her.

"Ask him out to prom, then."

"W-what?!" she sputters.

"Ask him out to prom."

She shakes her head.

"Why not, girl?"

"First of all, I don't know if he likes me, and secondly; we'll look ridiculous," she says looking dejected.

I scowl at her description. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, I'm too tall for him, B, and who would want to date a girl taller than them?" She looks so downhearted when she says it.

Angela's 5'10, and one of the tallest girls in school. She's insecure about it and fears that guys will turn her down because of it. I'm sure there are guys out there who wouldn't want to date a girl taller than they are, but I also know that there are guys who wouldn't care. She just has to bear that in mind and not perceive her height as a negative trait.

"You don't know what Angie, he might look beyond that. You won't know until you try. Besides, he'd be stupid to say no to someone as pretty as you." I wink.

She doesn't look convinced so I change tactics.

"Wouldn't you rather know for sure whether or not he's into you, instead of spending the rest of your life wondering 'what if'? Think about it."

We drop that subject and play for another hour where I get my ass kicked. She really is good at it but I'm resolved to beat her eventually.

We hug goodbye and she whispers a thank you, then promises that she will hang out at my place soon.

I drive home, looking forward to some alone time to reflect on the clusterfuck that is my emotional state.

But first, a nice hot bath is in order, which reminds me that I need to buy shampoo and conditioner and some groceries for dinner.

I check behind me, and seeing that the coast is clear, I swerve Bob in the middle of the street. Bla bla bla, it's dangerous, I know, but hey, we all do stupid shit sometimes.

I reach the grocery store in a few minutes and park Bob. It's drizzling a bit, so I pull my hoodie up and walk inside.

The store is unusually packed for a Tuesday. As soon as I walk through the doors, some of the customers give me weirder looks than I'm used to seeing.

Ignoring their stares, I grab a cart and go straight to the personal care aisle to grab some Argan oil shampoo and conditioner. Got to get these curls all bouncy and smooth.

The old lady shopping in the same aisle freezes upon seeing me, grabs her cart and high-tails it out of there as if escaping a terrorist attack.

I ignore the surge of disappointment and bitterness I feel and continue searching for my shampoo.

Not a damn Argan oil shampoo in the fucking store, not a single damn brand. How the hell is a girl going to care for her bountiful curls?

Damn! Y'all don't cater for black people hair? This is bullshit! This is blatant disregard for the needs of African-Americans!

Technically, there aren't that many African-Americans living in the area; they only constitute 0.5 percent of Forks' population.* That's like approximately 19 people. Stores won't buy products to sell to only 19 people.

Minor details that I don't give a rat's ass about at the moment! I want my goddamn Argan oil shampoo, damnit!

Stop whining like a baby. We'll buy a few when we go to Seattle, okay? So calm the fuck down.

NO!

I think you need a pacifier.

Oooh, look who's getting all sassy! When did that happen? I must've missed the memo.

What you really need is chocolate and pads. Though, we still have some chocolate left from the Cocoa Fairy.

Yeah, girl. I've been moody lately. Yas! Bless that Cocoa Fairy's heart! Oh, would we kiss the shit out of them if we knew who they were.

Oh, yeah, we definitely would.

I turn my cart around to leave, and I am confronted with packages pads, each of which is covered in multicolored plastic proclaiming their different degrees of absorption. Just in case Mother Nature decides to rear her ugly head and stick around a few days sometime soon, I grab my usual preference and throw it in the cart.

I can't wait to sit my lazy ass down and gush out dead blood and slurpy mucus while simultaneously stuffing my face with chocolatey goodness and watching sappy romantic movies

Oh, and let's not forget the cramp from hell and the bloating!

Fun times ahead, yay!

Since I have slight OCD, I pile in a few packs in the cart.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre has nothing on this shit.

Sighing, I reluctantly pick up a moisturizing shampoo as a temporary, inadequate replacement for my usual brand, which contains argan oil.

"Do you need help with something, Miss?" a middle aged lady with greying blonde hair, asks.

"No, thank you, Ma'am. I'm good." I smile.

When I resume shopping I feel somebody's presence behind me; as if I'm being followed.

I turn around to see the same woman, standing a few steps behind me.

I have a lot of experience with this, so I know I'm being monitored in the off chance that I might steal something. What I don't understand is, why now? I've been shopping here since I moved, so what gives?

Sometimes you reach a boiling point and you want to slap the motherfuckers. Though, that would just reinforce the stereotype of the "angry Black woman."

So being the classy and sophisticated lady that my momma taught me to be, I raise my bitch brow and say with as much politeness as I can muster. "Oh, you don't have to follow me, ma'am, like I said, I'm good here. If I need help with finding something I'll ask one of you helpful ladies."

The clerk looks startled when I address her.

Does she think I'm stupid? That I don't have prior experience dealing with bullshit? Or does she think her pseudo-spy stalking stealth was lost on me?

"Of course I'm not following you, Miss. I'm simply ensuring the safety of each and every customer, and making sure nothing gets accidentally misplaced, if you know what I mean," she says with a fake smile.

Bitch, get out of here with your "ensuring safety" bullshit! You think just because my skin tone is black that I'm going to steal something.

I keep my tone polite. "I feel perfectly safe, ma'am, there's no need to ensure my safety. I don't see anything threatening me, although I thank you for the effort. And you said something about ensuring nothing is accidentally misplaced, would you mind elaborating on that? I'm afraid I don't quite know what you mean."

Don't bullshit me, lady. I can detect the undertones of racism behind that camouflaged language.

"Oh, it's nothing, really. And I'm paying extra attention to all customers, you know, it's more efficient this way."

I give her a fake smile of my own. "Well, it sounded like something serious when you were worried about anything becoming accidentally misplaced. Your tone suggested it's happened before." I give her a look of concern.

"Oh no, nothing to worry about, Miss." She waves her hand in the universal "don't worry" gesture to emphasize her point.

Now, I could be a bitch and insist she tell me, but I don't because I know I'll end up angry.

"Well, thank you for your efficient work ethic." I look behind me and see the rest of the customers don't have clerks following them. "I see, however, that your other customers have been left unattended and I don't want to take up any more of your time. As you can see I'm fine here." I make a point of gesturing towards the shoppers behind me and give her a cheeky grin.

"Oh, yes, thank you for pointing that out," she says sharply, the fake smile still on her face as she walks past me.

Good riddance.

When I'm done shopping for tonight's dinner ingredients I walk up to the cashier and place the items one-by-one on the table. I notice that the raising of the cashier's eyebrows is directly proportional to the amount of items I place on the checkout stand.

Here we go again.

"How are you going to be paying for that, Miss?" she asks with a dubious expression.

"With my debit card," I quip with a "duh" tone.

She stays silent throughout while I continue putting my items on the conveyor belt.

When it's time to pay for my items I give her my, or rather, Dad's debit card, which is specifically used for grocery shopping.

She looks at the card then asks for my ID.

"Why do I need to give you my ID card?"

"It's our policy, Miss. We always ask for an ID card."

This is bullshit! "I've been shopping here for the past month and a half and not once before today was I asked to hand over my ID. Why now?"

"Well, I don't know about those times. Just don't make this a problem, Miss, or I'll have to call the police if you don't give me your ID."

Oh, she did not go there.

Did that bitch just say she'll call the cops? Oh, hell no.

"I'm sure Chief Swan will be just thrilled to be bothered by a stranger who wants to report his daughter for using her debit card."

"W-what? Chief Swan is your father?" she asks incredulously.

"Yes, he is. I see that is quite a shock for you."

Now, I'm deliberately being a bitch. I know there are people who will be surprised by the fact that Charlie's my dad, even though there are more biracial children now than there ever used to be. But I can't help giving her an attitude because I've had enough for today. I'm tired, probably PMSing, and all I'm guilty of is Shopping While Black and I don't have the patience to deal with this shit right now.

"Oh, um, I'm s-sorry, I didn't know that. "

I barely restrain myself from rolling my eyes.

"Do you still need to see my ID card?"

"No, no, that's fine, Miss Swan. There's no need."

Huh, I thought it was the store's "policy." You would think they'd be adamant about it regardless.

I'm not proud of using the "my dad is the Chief" card, but I can't help it when I see bullshit being spewed at me. Policy, my ass.

~E&I~

"Hey, Bella!" someone calls as I try to balance the grocery bags in one hand and pry open Bob with the other. The passenger side handle is a bit rusty so I have to use more force with it than with the driver side door.

After being treated so despicably by the store clerks, I'm in no mood to socialize with anyone.

I turn my head to see Eric Yorkie jogging towards me with a nervous smile on his face.

"Hey, need any help with that?" he asks, nodding towards the bags that I'm barely holding onto with my right hand.

I shake my head. "No, thank you, I've got it. Wait, would you mind opening the door for me?"

I thank him and place the bags on the passenger seat, wondering if there's any other reason for his approach.

"What's up?" I ask, because, hey, social manners dictate initiating conversation, right?

At that moment, a silver Volvo pulls up next to Bob.

Oh God, he's everywhere.

Of course Eric notices and becomes nervous. Huh, it seems vampires incite instinctual fear in the rest of the unsuspecting humans.

"Um, I was grocery shopping." Though I don't see him carrying bags. "I-I mean I came here to do some grocery shopping fo-for mom."

Okay?

I tilt my head and wait for him to spit out what he actually wants to say.

"I actually wanted to ask you if you wanted to go to prom with me," he says in a rush.

Eric's a nice guy and I don't want to hurt his feelings. I open my mouth to respond just as Edward steps out of his car with a murderous expression on his face: tense jaw, dark eyes, flaring nostrils and firm lips pressed in a thin line.

Uh oh.

What crawled up his ass?

Edward gracefully walks over to us looking sinfully sexy in a black henley, denim jeans, Doc Martens and his usual black leather jacket.

Holy shit! How did I not notice his outfit today?

We've been too preoccupied with his face.

"I'll talk to you later, Bella. Um, bye!" Eric says in panic then rushes away.

I stare at his retreating form wondering what just happened.

"Hello, Bella." Edward's deep, velvet voice greets me, causing my heart to flutter.

I'm not in the mood to deal with anyone right now. However, Edward doesn't deserve to be a punching bag, so I plaster a small smile on my face.

"Hey, Edward, shopping for spices to 'liven up' your meal?" I smirk.

Yeah, tasteless joke, I know.

Instead of a witty comeback, he takes a step towards me and tilts his head as if trying to solve a puzzle. I feel as if my soul is bared to him under his intense scrutiny and it makes me nervous; the exciting kind of nervous, causing me to fidget.

"What?" I snap.

"Are you well, Bella?" he asks with a concerned tone.

No, I'm not well. I'm pissed like a woman on a year long period and I want to go home.

"I'm fine."

His eyes narrow in suspicion as he stands there for a few seconds before instantaneous rage flashes in his eyes that is then replaced by frustration.

What the hell was that?

"Are you, okay? You looked like you were ready to cap a fucker just then."

His mouth twitches as those, now honey-colored eyes roam my face then smoulder into mine. "I was anxious and worried a few moments ago."

"Why?" I frown.

He takes another step toward me that leaves no room for even a breath of air to pass between our bodies. I tilt my head to see him frowning.

Huh, what now?

"Because I feel very protective of you," he murmurs after a few seconds of silence.

"I'm not in danger, though."

"You are, very much so."

"How am I in danger?" I tilt my head.

"The mere fact that you're human in a world full of threats and vile people is dangerous. Fortunately for you, I will be around to protect you." The fucker grins, winking at me.

Why did he say that? Could he somehow know what happened just a few minutes ago?

"Why don't you go ahead and appoint yourself as my keeper while you're at it." I tease. "And what makes you think I want to keep you around?"

"Don't you?" He smirks.

"Don't you want me to want to keep you around?"

I'm so fucking confused right now.

Edward looks around, then looks back at me, exhales, and leans forward to whisper in my ear, his cold breath tickling my ear and neck. "I would love to keep you by my side forever."

And right on cue comes my pansy sigh and shudder.

I discreetly inhale his tantalizing scent; yup, still very masculine and sexy.

Edward leans back with mischief in his eyes and I can't help but shake my head while smiling.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Edward." I smile then turn around to open Bob's door before his hand flashes in front of mine and he opens the door for me.

What a gentleman.

"Thank you." And without thinking I rise to my tip toes and kiss him on the cheek before hopping in Bob.

I can see Edward's big smile through my rearview mirror as I drive away with my lips tingling.

Source:

* "American FactFinder". United States Census Bureau.

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