Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a lamington tin and half a jar of Vegemite.

Six

It feels like my insides are being whirred around in a blender; my stomach flip-flopping and gurgling, my blood beating too hard for my veins. I'm hungover, and I know it before I even open my eyes.

Slowly, I crack one eye open a little, shrinking away as the sunlight pouring in the bedroom window burns my poor delicate eyeballs. Scrunching them closed again, I groan slowly - even the rattle of my voice through my chest hurts.

"Morning, sunshine."

I sit up so quickly that my head spins and I lurch sideways, sliding off the bed and onto the floor with a thud, still tangled in the bed sheet.

Sitting on the bed, in what appears to be Rosie and Jasper's spare bedroom, is Edward. He laughs as I peer over the mattress at him.

"What the fuck?" I whisper, my voice throaty and mouth dry.

His chest is bare, his skin the colour of honey against the stark white wall behind him. Quickly checking myself under the sheet, I'm relieved to find I'm still mostly dressed. Well, sort of. I'm missing my pants, my bra and one sock.

"Why am I undressed? Why are you here? What the fuuuuuck?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, Edward pouts dramatically. "You mean you don't remember anything?"

I swallow hard, trying to remember what happened the night before. From the taste in my mouth, I'm guessing there was bourbon, and from the pounding in my head, I'm thinking there was lots of it.

"Uh..."

He laughs, swinging his arms up behind his head. "I'm joking. You passed out at about midnight, after you and Rose thought drinking straight from the bottle was a good idea."

Groaning, I bury my face into the mattress as the contents of my stomach threatens to make an appearance. "Stop. Don't talk about it."

Chucking quietly, he rolls over onto his front, only inches from my head as I pout and moan. Even through my alcohol-induced illness, it's like my body is attuned to his presence. I'd never noticed it before, but he smells like salt water and sunshine, a hint of sunscreen and something sweet like coconut underneath. It's comforting, relaxing, surprisingly masculine and perfectly Edward.

"Wait a minute." I lift my head slowly, wincing as the room spins. "If I passed out, what are you doing in here?"

He shrugs, running a hand over the white fitted sheet, smoothing out a wrinkle. "Jasper and I got up ages ago, and then I got bored waiting."

"Ugh. What on earth possessed you to get up so early?"

"Went for a surf." He says it like it's the most normal thing in the world, like, duh, Bella.

"You surf every day?"

He nods, lifting his head and resting it in his hand. He's the picture of relaxed; sprawled out atop the clean white sheets, while I'm wrapped up like a freaking burrito on the floor.

With my head on the bed, I drift in and out of consciousness, still aware that Edward is right beside me.

"Are you watching me sleep?"

"What kind of a creep do you think I am?"

I don't reply, just nuzzle against the sheet again, trying to ignore the churn and gurgle in my stomach.

"Come on then," he says after a minute or so as he lifts himself out of bed.

Raising my head slowly, I peel my sleep heavy eyes open. His dark blue board shorts rest low on his hips, the defined cut of his lower abdomen making my head swim with all sorts of terrible, terrible thoughts.

"Go on without me," I whine, reaching out an arm as he slides off the bed. "Let me die in peace."

I can practically hear him roll his eyes. "Dramatic much? Get up."

"No," I moan.

"Yes."

"Nooooo."

"I'll make you a coffee if you get up now."

The idea of a strong black coffee is tempting.

"Really?"

"Yep."

Grunting in response, I nod and peel my head off of the sheet, wiping the drool off the corner of my mouth.

The worst thing about a bad hangover isn't the thumping headache, or the all consuming need to vomit; its that you only have yourself to blame. The best I can do is try to survive the day without throwing up in front of Edward, and then crawl into my own bed to sleep it off.

Edward watches from the doorway, offering no help as I search for my missing clothes, just an ever present knowing smile. Maybe if I hadn't been so hellbent on drinking my weight in bourbon, I might have been able to remember what he was smirking about.

"You've got five minutes, or I'm dragging you out by your little pink undies."

I scowl. "How do you know my undies are pink?"

He doesn't answer, just winks and closes the door behind him.

Oh, god. What have I done?

Emerging from the guest bedroom some time later, I find Jasper in the kitchen making toast while Edward boils the kettle. Both of their heads turn as I enter, and Edward grins while Jasper begins a slow, obnoxiously loud clap as he grins ear to ear.

"Bella Swan, everybody!"

"Shut up, Jasper," I snap, taking the cup of coffee from Edward's outstretched hand.

"I've never seen anyone drink as much as you two did last night. You've got balls."

I sigh as the hot coffee hits my empty stomach. I can almost feel it seeping into my bloodstream, calming my raw stomach and smothering the hangover shakes.

"I've got a fucking headache is what I've got."

A long, rattling groan rises from the sofa, and turning, I see Rosie, covered in a blanket, her face buried in the sofa cushions.

"Kill me," she rasps, lifting an arm and placing two fingers against her temple.

Jasper shakes his head. "You two are such sooks. Have a Gatorade and a bit of a spew, and you'll be right."

Talk of vomit has both Rose and I groaning.

Coffee in hand, I shuffle over to the sofa, sitting gingerly beside Rose on the soft,floral patterned cushions.

"Why, did we think trying to keep up with the boys would be a good idea?"

Buried face-first in the pillows, she shakes her head, her reply a muffled, "Fuck knows."

"I didn't…" I peer over the back of the sofa, watching the boys muck around in the kitchen. "Me and Edward, I mean…did we…"

"Uh-uh."

I sigh in relief, swishing the remains of my coffee around in the cup.

It's not that kissing Edward would have been a bad thing. In fact, if I were to be truthful, kissing Edward would have been fucking awesome. But I've been in Clearwater for all of five minutes, and the last thing I need is to be tied down to another small town. And who are we kidding - everyone knows kissing leads to sex, sex leads to relationships, and then next thing you know you're living in a small town, working two jobs to support a brood of bronze-haired, green-eyed rugrats.

Okay, so that's a bit of an exaggeration, but you get the idea.

Peeking over the back of the sofa again, I watch him and Jasper dicking around, smiling a little at the sound of his laughter. I wonder if I'm the kind of girl who could use someone like Edward. String him along for a while, take my fill of those smoochable lips and those pretty eyes, and then walk away. I really wish I was, because man, that guy is so fucking perfect it makes my head spin, but I'm not. I just don't have it in me to hurt someone so sweet.

Turning around again, I sigh, closing my eyes. Why is life so hard all the time?

Moments later, Edward appears at my side. "Toast?" he asks, a buttered piece hanging from his mouth.

Humming gratefully, I take the other piece as he sits down on the end of the couch, a few feet away.

Jasper pokes Rosie's head a few times, dodging her fists as she swings at him blindly from in the cushions.

"Fuck off, Jasper."

"Move then."

"Sit on the floor."

"You sit on the floor."

"I was here first."

"Feeling better?" asks Edward, watching me nibble on the edge of my toast as Rose and Jasper fight for a place on the sofa.

"A little. My head still hurts and I feel yucky, plus I'm kind of worried you snuck a peek at my undies. But other than that I'm fine."

Settling back into the couch, Edward grins, resting a hand on his flat stomach. "What? They're cute, with all the little strawberries on them."

"Oh my God!" I yell, slapping his arm with my free hand.

"Violent!" he jokes, rubbing his arm.

Having finally worked out their differences, Jasper sits at one end of the corner couch, while Rose sprawls out with her feet near his lap.

"Don't touch me with your nasty feet," he complains, slapping the bottom of her foot.

"Ouch! My feet aren't nasty, you dick."

Edward flicks TV channels, skipping between endless sports and old movies. Rose falls asleep again quickly, snoring softly beside me. Edward and Jasper take the time to fill me in on the night before and our antics. Apparently, I wasn't the drunkest, nor the most embarrassing. That prize went to Rose, which I guess is why she's sleeping off mild alcohol poisoning.

Burying myself deeper into the couch cushions, I tuck my knees under me as we watch 90's sitcom reruns and an old black and white movie.

Halfway through the movie, I spread out a little further, lying down with my head propped up on my hand.

By the end of the movie, I'm sprawled out – my feet near Rosie, and my head right beside Edward. I can hear him and Jasper talking quietly, like the soft hum of white noise as I doze in the afternoon sun.

I might be hungover, but in that moment, hung over as fuck and surrounded by new friends, I'm the happiest I've been in a while.

Just a short one. Sorry for the cockblock.

Tiff and Meg, along with Thimbles and Ink are my #1 Team! GOOOO TEAM! Any and all errors are mine because I'm fiddly.

Thank you for reading x