A/N: I do not have a beta for this story at the moment, please excuse any errors.
Disclaimer: All Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.
All intellectual property, characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to Ryder Jude. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express written authorization. ©2010.
I was that kid. I was that girl. The kid in school that constantly got made fun of, tormented, whatever. I was shoved into lockers, got into fights, and was basically mocked every day of my educational experience. In a way, I thrived out of it. That part is more difficult to explain, it's not that I particularly liked being picked on, but it is apart of my story. It gave me strength to be myself, long before many others my age would come to grow into. But, everyone forgets this about me, like I was simply always blessed.
I think it's also made me a little darker than some, there's anger and hurt inside me that no ones really been able to understand. I mean, sometimes people can relate. But, my whole existence has been so bizarre, yet I wouldn't change my life for anyones.
I was extremely close to my family. My odd family. I had sort of an unique upbringing, my parents were hippies. We lived on a commune for a few of my earlier years. It was a weird way of living, looking back. We had no running water, and other adults there were continuously shouting about "making love, not war". Though people still say this now-a-days this was meant literally in those days. I mostly played with friends around the commune, and we didn't know anything different. We didn't know how the outside lived. We were blissfully naïve.
My mother and I were very close, we watched old movies together all the time. Sometimes I'd stay home from school when I wasn't feeling up to facing my enemies. She was very cool, and we'd get lost in a world of black and white for hours.
My Godfather was a writer, and I adored him. I tagged along everywhere he went, poor man. I looked up to him. I even became passionate about the things we was passionate about. My parents alike were always into literature.
I was a bookworm growing up, especially because of my influences I suppose. But, I loved letting my imagination flow, creating a world all of my own. It was a little later into my years that I started trying to write. With every story I created, I found I grew. My stories became more interesting. I felt proud of my little works, and hoped to one day go to college to further my studies.
Eventually, my mom had finally taken me out of school for a little time to tutor me, she didn't agree with my constant bullying. I would rush through all my work, and be bored for half the day. Writing, and books filled my days after that point. And, I couldn't get enough reading material.
I was seventeen, and found myself back in school. High-school. High-school is like hell, I think. But, when I came back it wasn't as awful as before. The kids grew up a little, and although I still wasn't popular I wasn't always in someones locker, either.
One night my Godfather, Billy, was having a party. And, being the tag along I was, I was going to this adult party. I wondered if the party was going to be a rowdy crowd. They still held their hippie spirit.
I dressed, a little mature for my years, all in black. My parents weren't coming to this event, they had others things to do that night. And, then drove over to Billy's.
I shut the door to the cab of my red truck, and was immediately intercepted by Jake. He loomed over me with his tall frame, as he smiled down at me, blinding me with his pearly white teeth.
He pulled me into his frame for a hug, and I sighed quietly. Jake was my best friend, and my brother. He wasn't related by blood, but it was just as well. We grew up together on the commune, and now in the real world. Although, he now lived on a reservation, La Push, Washington. We only lived a few minutes away now though, as I lived in Forks.
His russet skin, and dark eyes were even darker in the dim twinkling lights that were strung around the house. And I could see a bonfire blazing in the backyard.
"I was wondering if you were going to make it down here tonight."
I smiled, "I wouldn't miss it."
"Uh-huh you're not too good to come party, but you can't come visit me a little more often? I'm hurt, Bells."
I arched an eyebrow at his words, "Well, you know what they say about us pale faces," He smiled at my ribbing, "I wouldn't want to upset any tribal leaders."
He shoved my shoulder playfully, being careful of our size differences, and said, "Naw, you're too small to be of any real threat."
He patted my head condescendingly, "Come on little doll, let's party."
"Jake," I threatened, "don't start with the pale jokes."
He crossed his hand over his heart, "I promise." He said, but I knew the albino jokes would start-up again in a matter of minutes. It's how we were.
As we crossed the threshold the music increased in my ears, and the scent of Billy's home washed over me, making me feel welcome. Our families almost lived at each others, we were never apart for long.
I was, and still am a shy girl. Parties actually terrify me, but I loved spending time with Billy, Jake, and all our friends. And, being at Billy's was like being on home ground. It gave me a little more confidence.
I followed Jake through the maze of people.
We went straight to the bonfire first where I found Billy laughing, and telling stories. He caught me around the waist, and wrapped me in a bear hug.
"Hello little one," he smiled against my forehead, and then released me asking about my parents.
I shrugged, "I don't know, they were up to something tonight."
Billy laughed, "I see."
My eyes widened at his implication, I cringed, and muttered an "ew".
"Go on, there is quite a spread." He said, nudging me toward the table filled with food, soda, beer, wine, and liquor.
I waved at a few others in passing as we moved toward the line of food. Jake appeared by my side again, and we filled our plates. We moved to the chairs in front of the fire, Billy abandoning his for me. I refused, but was quickly pushed into the seat.
I felt guilty, and loved all at once. I sat nibbling at my food, but mostly staring at my parents friends across from me. They were all sharing stories. And, I was almost salivating. A lot of our friends were writers, and hippies. It was a fun combination.
I listened to the pieces of story with zeal, hoping that one day I would be sharing some of my own.
After about three sodas, and two hours worth of filling my head with crazy dreams I needed to use the restroom. Billy has drifted inside, over the course of the last two hours. And, Jake was talking with a girl quietly next to him. I didn't want to leave my cozy warmth, nor did I want to disrupt Jake, but I eventually whispered to Jake that I would be back.
Padding my way back into the house, I discovered a line for the restroom. I was almost tempted to use Billy's, but thought better of it. I didn't want anyone following my example.
I stood quietly, leaning against the wall. I felt a little intoxicated, not that I was. It was just the high I got for having such a good time, with good friends.
The door opened, and the next person went in, leaving me next, and also last. No one had stepped in line after me yet. I stared down at the carpeted floor, and listened to the noisiness of the partygoers. The music faded for a moment, the gap between the next song, and suddenly I found as if I had been zapped.
Like a spark I once felt. Feeling confused, I turned my gaze around the room, catching a shock of disheveled auburn hair. I gasped quietly, and shook my head. I looked at the space where I had just found him, but saw nothing.
The bathroom door opened at that moment, pulling me from my reverie. Walking through the door, I pulled it close behind me, locking it. Standing in front of the mirror, I felt a little disoriented.
Blinking my eyes, I promised to forget about him, and the spark.
After I used the restroom, I went into the kitchen to gather another drink. Then, I headed back out to the backyard for some more stories. But, Billy stopped me before I could move any further.
"Bella, come here," he wavered me over with his hand, "theres someone I want you to meet." He said.
I moved around the bodies blocking my path, and finally reached Billy. His back was turned toward me, at a slight angle. He was blocking whoever he was talking to. Billy turned back toward me, and as he moved aside I found the person he had wanted me to meet.
I locked eyes with his jade ones, and felt that electricity spark between us. I shyly glanced up at him, from beneath from lashes. I suddenly felt very afraid of this jerk. He was so much more intimidating up close, and that much more beautiful.
It was painful.
Distantly I head Billy speaking, "Edward, this is my Goddaughter, Bella. Bella, this is Edward, he's a friend of mine. Edward is a very talented musician."
I swallowed, and nodded paralyzed. Edward's eyes were piercing me with their intensity, and Billy wasn't oblivious to it either. The tension radiated between the three of us.
"It's nice to meet you, Bella." His velvet voice murmured. And, I knew he was a musician at once. His voice was even beautiful. It was caressing.
"Nice to meet you, too." I mumbled embarrassed.
"Yeah, Edward here is an old friend of ours, Bella. He's Carlisle and Esme's son. And, boy you should hear him play."
"Oh," I muttered at once knowing he was quite a bit older than me. I think he was about nine, or ten years older. I knew Carlisle and Esme, they're lovely friends of my parents. But, Edward was never around. He was too old for us.
Feeling childish, I ducked my head, and mumbled an "I love Carlisle, and Esme. They're great."
Suddenly something occurred to me, "Wait, play? You don't sing?" I asked, surprised.
"No, I play guitar." He mumbled, shy. He almost seemed embarrassed, too.
Shy, him? No, he couldn't be. Especially now that I knew he was a musician. No, he was definitely a jerk. This was...an act. It had to be.
"Hey, Billy. Check this out!" Someone shouted from across the room.
Billy looked between us, and said "Excuse me, kids."
It almost like he was making it clear that our ages weren't that far apart, like he was grouping us together. Or maybe I had just wished that was what was being said.
Edward glanced down at me, and a slight crooked smile lit his features. It reached his eyes, making them dance with the light in the room.
I felt my heart flutter harder. I found it strange, too. Never once had my heart fluttered unless I was nervous, or embarrassed except around him.
I took him in.
He was wearing a black leather jacket, with a black t-shirt underneath, jeans hung low from his hips, and he was wearing black boots. His hair was in disarray, brownish red locks sweeping away from his forehead, except for a couple of errant strands. His sharp jaw was unshaved, it held a slight stubble. While his full lips, and high cheekbones made his features soft, yet angular. And, his eyes...I didn't think I could describe the full depth to them, I was drowning in his jade darkened eyes. Watching him, watch me was intoxicating. He gaze was so intense, full of longing, and held a hint of mischief.
I didn't know what to say to him. I felt overwhelmed by him.
"I didn't know you were friends with Billy." He said, breaking my trance.
I calmed myself for a moment, and then nodded.
"Yeah, we've just never met." I said, finally.
He nodded thoughtfully, and looked...regretful almost.
"How old are you, Bella?" He murmured.
"Seventeen," I whispered. I stared up at with big curious eyes.
"And, how old are you?" I asked.
He looked at me intently for a moment, and then said "I'm twenty-six."
Nine years. It didn't seem that huge to me, but I knew that others wouldn't think that way.
"I think I remember my Mom and Dad saying you liked to read a lot?" He asked.
"Yeah," I nodded, "I love reading. Do you?" I asked, with all our friends I wondered if it would be possible to not.
He nodded, "I love reading. What kinds of books do you like?"
I felt so comfortable talking with him, even with the electricity sparking everywhere, it felt...natural. Like it was meant to be, kismet.
"I love everything. But, I really like classics. The Catcher in the Rye, Wuthering Heights, Pride and Prejudice, are a few of my favorites."
"Catcher in the Rye, is a favourite of mine, too. I love Kerouac, though. He's my favorite writer. I love On the Road." He murmured, his eyes dancing.
"Wait, do you like the beat poets?" I asked. Billy, my Godfather, was a beat poet writer. Although, both our parents were hippies, we were not. Edward was darker, edgier, like myself.
He chuckled, it was a lovely sound. "Yeah, I do. I also like Allen Ginsberg, and I love Hunter S. Thompson." Ginsberg was also a beat poet writer, and they influenced writers such as Dylan, and Thompson.
"I do, too." I smiled.
He smiled his crooked smile again, and I felt my heart stammer. How could the beautiful man be so shy? It was obvious to me now, he was standing in the corner of room. Isolated, and quiet. He seemed so grounded, and mysterious. I felt my face heat. I assumed from the piercing stare that we shared at the movie theatre that he was a jerk, but he was the opposite.
I felt ashamed I had assumed so much about him. And, guilty.
"So, Bella what kind of music do you like?" He asked, like this question held everything that mattered most. And to him, it probably did in a way.