"Bella..?"

"Yes mom?"

"Why don't you drive down to the pharmacy and get mama some sleeping medicine, huh sweetheart?"

"Yes mom."

I stood up from my spot in front of fhe TV and grabbed the twenty dollars from her outstretched hand, and slipped on a pair of slippers.

My dad was standing on our front porch, smoking a cigarette. He caught a glimpse of me and smiled. "You going out?"

"Yes dad."

"Where to?"

"The pharmacy, dad."

He grinned. He gestured towards his nearly empty bottle of moonshine. "You wanna do your daddy a favor and get me some more?"

"Yes dad." He smiled and pulled me close, hugging me.

"That's my girl... that's my sweet girl..." I pulled away and he placed a sloppy kiss on my cheek. He smelled like ethanol.

Then, he stumbled back into the house, undoubtedly to yell at my mother.

I slid into the old pickup we owned. My dad, Charlie, used to be a sheriff back in Arizona, where we used to live before we moved here, but after several bouts of alcoholism alcoholism a few instances of "unprofessionalism", they dumped him here, in this small, piece-of-shit town in the middle of Washington.

My mom used to be this low-budget movie star, but then she got into this brutal car accident, so she doesn't do much anymore but lie around and shovel prescription drugs down her throat to ease away the pain.

I passed through several other modest homes as I made my way down our empty street. Forks was small, so most of the houses on our block were unoccupied or home to old couples.

The pharmacy we always go to is almost run down into the ground, since every prefers going to the one that's closer to suburbia than the rural area, and it's run primarily by immigrants who aren't afraid to give you anything in the back without a presciption.

That's how they make money. They make profit off of all of the drug users who inhabit the surrounding area, and since nobody asks questions, they get away with it. You can tell, though, because they're always 2 or 3 of them hunched over in the chairs where the pharmacy section is in the small, sparsely stocked store.

It also smells always smells like vomit through the buckets of bleach they dump around a little bit before closing time to attempt to freshen it up. It doesn't work, of course, but it's something.

I grab about three bottles of benadryl and go to checkout, ignoring the stares of the druggies behind me, half-asleep, hunched over their shopping carts packed with a few bottles of pills and cough medicine.

"How much?"

"8.32," an older Asian woman says as she flips through a book.

I hand her a ten and she throws some ones and some change back at me. "Come again," she says, not looking up from her book.

Gotta love the customer service.

As I'm walking to my pick up, a tall, skinny boy with a beanie and a ripped up jacket calls out to me.

"You know there's stronger stuff then that, right?" He gestures to my bag of benadryl and stare at him, before stifling a small laugh.

"Oh, it's not for me," I open my car door and throw the bag inside on the floor on the passenger side. "It's for my mom. She gets pains sometimes."

"Oh," he said and a small smile crossed his face. "Right. Sorry. Now that you mention it that makes sense. You're too... clean-looking to be an addict."

I snorted. "Clean-looking?"

He nodded, grinning, showing his nearly white teeth. "Pretty. You don't live around here, do you?"

"No. I live... farther out." I'm slightly intrigued by the Adam's Apple that bobs when he speaks and the way a smile always plays on his lips as he speaks.

"Really?" He laughed again, this time lifting his head up more and brushing his hair out of his face. "You look like you'd live farther in town. You know, where all of the rich kids live."

"Well you were wrong,"I said, slightly amused. His green eyes twinkle and he places places a hand on the hood of my car. "I'm no addict."

Then, he threw his head back and laughed. I can feel heat under my skin beginning to rise and I swallowed, looking away.

"I'm no crack-addict. Haven't you seen my teeth?" He grinned. "See?"

"Then what's your thing, huh?" I tapped my chin, thinking. "Over-the-counters, then?"

"It wouldn't be very ethical of me to get high of my own supply now would it?" He flashed me a crooked smile and heat blooms under my skin.

"I have to go..." I started, and he frowned.

"Where to?" His fingers drummed along my hood. "We were having so much fun..." his head dipped and he stared at me for a moment.

"You want me to tell you my name?" I stifled a laugh. "You want me, to tell you, a drug dealer, my name?"

"I'll tell you mine..." He smiled again. "Edward..."

I pursed my lips before a smile creeps onto my face. "Edward... Edward?" I clasped my hand over my mouth and he watches me as I double over slightly, a series of giggles escaping through my lips. "Edward," I repeated. "You're a drug dealer named Edward?"

"Ouch..." He murmured, still watching me. His dark eyebrows pressed together. "I can't believe you're making fun of me."

"I'm sorry," I started but he shushed me, pressing a long finger to his lips.

"It's okay." His green eyes wandered across my face. "But it's only fair that I get to make fun of your name, now."

I hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was smart. But this was a small town, somehow, he'd find my name out either way. "Bella," I said, smiling.

"Bella," he repeated, and I nodded. "Can't really make fun of a name as beautiful as that, now can I?"

Oh. I'm sure that my cheeks are tinted a deep shade of crimson, and he laughed loudly again, lightly banging his hand on the hood of my car.

"I like you, Bell-a," he pronounced each syllable and a wry smile crossed my face.

He was very handsome, when you looked at him closely. Underneath the mess of dark hair, you could see two dark green eyes, and his nose had a very noticeable hump in it, probably from a series of fights. He had a very sharp, very defined facial structure, and he was incredible tall, so I had to tilt my head up slightly to speak to him. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips and he moved his hand from the hood of my car to grip the top of my cardoor.

"I'd like to see you again sometime, Bella," he said suddenly, and he tilted his head to the side, waiting for an answer.

"Mm, Edward." I'm prepared for him to say something else, maybe try to pry my address out of me, or maybe the real reason why he was standing there, having a conversation as if we were two classmates, old friends. But he remained silent, observing.

So I hop into my car, but he gripped the cardoor, preventing me from shutting it. He leaned in slightly, and his warm breath tickled my face. He smiled a crooked smile. "I mean that, Bella. I. Want. To. See. You. Again." And then he leaned back, a thoughtful expression crossing his face before he grinned, the usual glint in his green eyes back.

"And I will."

Then, he turned and left, disappearing silently, and I was left in an empty lot, my door halfway open, as if he'd never even been talking to me in the first place, as if I was alone again.

I blinked. Moonshine. Charlie's moonshine. I remembered that I had to swing by the store in town to pick it up.

But even when the dense forest morph into grand houses and supernarkets, only one thought pounds against my school, almost giving me a headache.

Edward. Edward. Edward.

Yes, Edward.

Edward, and his crooked smile...

Don't forget to review... (PLEASE)

Quinn