Les Femmes Noires One-Shot Contest

Title: The Coldest Story Ever Told

Your pen name: Makkitotosimew

Characters: Edward/Alice

Disclaimer: Guess what? I'm not Stephenie Meyer. I just like to play with her characters. Oh, and I don't own the song I got the title from. Unfortunately, Kanye West does, but I'm gonna give the credit to Kris Allen (he did it better anyhow).

To see other entries in Les Femmes Noires Contest, please visit the C2 page:

http:// www . fanfiction . net / community / Les_Femmes_Noires / 73127 /

A/N: Do me a favor and don't hate on me for the pairing or how heinous she is. I kinda like her. ;) Okay, enough ado. On with the show!

I stirred my coffee absentmindedly, watching the little spoon-created waves crash against the sides of the mug, lost in my thoughts.

How could I have been so foolish?

I saw her every time I closed my eyes. Saw her smiling, saw her laughing, saw her yelling, saw her face as we made love, saw her leaving. It was like someone had captured all our best and worst moments on film and set it to play over and over again in my mind.

God, I am an idiot.

"You alright?" a voice asked from somewhere to my right. I looked up to see the man now occupying the stool next to me. His blond hair fell in his face, just long enough to slightly obscure the concerned look in his green eyes. He was lean yet not skinny and dressed like an Abercrombie model, but with a shirt on. I laughed to myself as I realized he was exactly her type.

"Yeah. Fine," I mumbled, turning back to my coffee.

"You don't seem it," he replied. I wished he'd just drop it, order his damn meal and go on his way. "You wanna talk about it?"

"You some kind of therapist or something?"

"No. Just a good Samaritan."

"What makes you think you'd want to hear about my problems?" I asked, my voice heavy with sarcasm.

"Could be interesting," he laughed. I shot him a look that clearly said 'This isn't funny, asshole' and he turned and pretended to cough as he forced the smirk from his face. "But really," he continued, much to my chagrin. "My mom always made me talk my shit out. It helped, and I guess it made me a good listener somehow too. And talking about it's gotta be healthier than bottling it up and bitching at your coffee, right?"

He had a point, and I hated it. I stared down at my mug and considered my possibilities. I could sit there and hate myself for something I supposed I really had no control over, or I could take all my frustrations out on this unwitting "good Samaritan". My chest felt just a little lighter at the thought of dumping my problems on someone else. Bitch to the blond man it is, then. "What the hell," I muttered, shrugging and looking back at him.

"Name's Jasper," he said, offering his hand. "Most people just call me Jay."

"Edward," I returned. "Most people call me Edward."

"Nice to meet you." He smiled kindly as a waitress approached, addressing her by name and ordering a fresh cup of coffee for each of us. "Cold coffee isn't exactly comfort food," he said when I asked. "So, let me guess." He narrowed his eyes and studied my face closely enough to make me uncomfortable. "Chick problems," he declared with absolute certainty.

"Not anymore."

"Ninety-nine problems, but a bitch ain't one?"

"Actually, she's all ninety-nine."

"Spill."

We'd been together since high school. How the hell a relationship like ours survived two years of high school and four of college is beyond me. It was rocky from the get-go. We epitomized the rollercoaster relationship; fighting in the halls on Monday, making up in the janitor's closet on Tuesday. From make-up to break up and back again in under twenty-four hours. It confused and annoyed everyone we knew, but it worked for us. It kept things exciting. Maybe that's what kept it alive for so long.

She had me wrapped around her dainty little finger. She said 'Jump', I said 'How high, baby?' I forgave every little transgression, every massive mistake. Even the ones she never told me about. Even the ones I had to hear about from our friends. In a word, she had me whipped. Right from the moment we met.

She was gorgeous. Petite and perfectly proportioned. And she walked into the school like she owned it. Head held high, not a trace of fear or anxiety. Astonishing in someone moving mid-semester and completely captivating to me. Her hair, so dark brown it was almost black, fell in flawless curls down her back. Her skin looked almost airbrushed, like in a magazine. Her lips… dear God, her lips were almost my undoing. Full, pouty, glossed to perfection. I couldn't take my eyes off them.

"Take a picture. It'll last longer," she quipped, strutting by me without a single pause or misstep. I was hooked. Just six words and I was sold – property of the angel with an attitude.

Not wanting her out of my sight for even a moment, I ran after her. "I'm Edward Cullen," I blurted out as soon as I caught up to her.

"And I care why?" she asked, not even sparing me a glance.

"Because you're standing in my wing of the school." I gestured to the plaque above the door in front of us and her sea green eyes shot up to follow my movement. A sly smile crept across her face as she raised one perfectly arched brow at me.

"So I am," she said, her voice several degrees less caustic than before. She looked me up and down, her eyes finally coming to rest on my own. They danced with mischief and delight and I could've swum in their depths for all eternity. "Alice Brandon," she introduced herself, extending a carefully manicured hand to me. Not as one normally would for a handshake, but as debutantes were taught to in my mother's day. Either she was from money or she wanted to be. I took her hand in mine and raised it to my lips, placing a lingering kiss on her knuckles, my eyes never leaving hers. I had money to spare.

The first few months went as any other relationship, only far less publicly lovey-dovey. We were inseparable. I walked her to every class; she drove us home in the afternoon, insisting on her Porsche over my Volvo. She attracted a crowd I'd never run with before. In fairness, she attracted everyone; she accepted a crowd I didn't run with. Cheerleaders, jocks, anyone with a $100,000 European car and a platinum charge account. We didn't merely sit together at lunch – we reigned. The Queen Bee and her King.

The first Royal Debacle – and in truth, the first sign – came the end of one school day when I noticed her giving the quarterback bedroom eyes… and complimenting him on his "tight end". I pulled her into an empty classroom and we had it out. We argued for what felt like hours, screaming so loud the janitor even came by to make sure no one was dying. I accused her of cheating; she accused me of having a guilty conscience. I called her a conceited bitch; she called me a judgmental asshole. I told her to go fuck herself; she told me to take her on the teacher's desk. Needless to say we rattled a few drawers... and probably a few walls too. Not the first time I'd envisioned for us, but you just don't turn down an angry knockout in a prep school uniform.

The remainder of our junior year passed without serious offense. Little, senseless fights here and there over nothing important; giant, illicit make-ups that started to form the foundation of our messed up relationship. I swore eventually the teachers were going to figure out why their desks were never as straight in the morning as they were the afternoon before. I thought the janitor must be sick of not being able to get into his closet in the middle of the day. She said it didn't matter – when you owned part of the school, you could get away with murder.

While most of our classmates slaved away in menial jobs for minimum wage, I invited her to come away with me for summer. I thought Florida or maybe Hawaii. She demanded St. Barts, "where all the people worth spending time with go for summer." I had my suspicions she meant "where all the rich people go for the summer," but I didn't care. My affected Aphrodite wanted St. Barts, she got St. Barts. At least I got to put all those years of French lessons to use.

Senior year passed like junior year, with one major exception.

Prom.

Our friends rented limos. The richer ones rented stretches. I went all out – I rented a fully stocked, shiny white, stretch Escalade. And when I say "fully stocked," I mean champagne, dozens of flawless, blood red roses, and room for twenty more people than would be riding in it.

I donned my classic Armani and set out to pick up my prom queen. I'd thought nothing could be more impressive than the first time I saw her. I was wrong. How a gown can have a train longer than the girl wearing it is tall and barely exist, I will never know, but it was a sight to see. The color of the dress flawlessly accented the wide stretches of skin it revealed. The platinum and diamond accessories – including the custom designed tiara – sparkled almost as beautifully as her eyes. I couldn't decide if I was going to prom with an angel or if I'd just died and gone to heaven.

We danced the night away, enjoying the company of all the school's elite and sipping less-than-school-approved beverages, courtesy of the one member of our crowd I'd always run with – my childhood best friend, Emmett.

Shortly before prom court was scheduled to be announced – an event I absolutely had to be around for, since my girlfriend was a shoe-in for queen – I excused myself to visit the restroom. As I made my way back to the ballroom, an unexpected sound came from a side hall. A melodic, high soprano giggle. An almost musical sound I'd heard and caused a thousand times over and would recognize anywhere. I rounded the corner cautiously, my heart in my throat, and saw something far more unexpected than her giggle.

My girlfriend, my Alice, dress hiked up and legs wrapped around a tall, dark-haired man who most assuredly was not me. His lips were at her throat and her fingers were tangled in his hair. And neither of them even noticed me standing, watching, fuming.

"Ahem," I said, not even trying to disguise it as actually clearing my throat. A tiny squeak of surprise escaped her as her head whipped in my direction. The intrusive asshole didn't even have the guts to look at me as he pulled her off him and lowered her to the floor.

"Edward!" Alice gasped, all honest surprise already drained from her voice. "I didn't see you there." She smiled sweetly as though nothing had happened.

"No shit, you didn't," I snapped. I grabbed the stranger by his bicep and spun him roughly around to face me. "Just who the fu—," I started before I recognized the tux, the sculpted 'EDM' stitched on the old-style, silk handkerchief in his pocket. EDM – Emmett Daniel McCarty. His shame-filled eyes finally met my wide, enraged ones.

"Edward, I'm so sorry," he said, his voice perfectly sincere.

"Not as sorry as I am, Em," I returned before winding up and knocking my best friend of more than a decade to the ground.

I shot Alice one final, spiteful 'how could you?' look and stalked off, ready to take the limo and make her find her own damn ride home. Designer stiletto heels clicked rapidly after me.

"Edward!" I kept walking.

"EDWARD!" I didn't flinch.

"EDWARD! PLEASE!" She sounded on the verge of tears and it tore at my heart just enough to stop me dead in my tracks. I turned to face her and saw my disheveled Cinderella running at me as quickly as the ocean of taffeta surrounding her would allow. Her tiara was slanted and her mascara ran down her cheeks in twin rivers of charcoal. "Don't do this," she pled. "I love you." It was the first time she'd ever spoken those words to me. I'd hoped for them for months, wanted to say them myself at times, but never once did I imagine the first time she said them would be a bald-faced lie.

"You wouldn't do shit like this to me if you loved me, Alice."

"I know. Baby, I know." She put one tiny hand on each side of my face, silently pleading with me to look her in the eye, to play her games and fall for her lies. "But I do. God, I know I suck at showing it, but I do love you, Edward. You're everything to me." I looked her steadily in the eye and wrapped my hands around hers and brought them back down in front of her, wanting nothing more than to believe the lies and play the games.

"I can't do this anymore," I said, shaking my head at her.

"What're you saying?"

"I'm saying I'm done. It's over, Alice. We're over."

"No," she pled, fresh crocodile tears spilling down her cheeks. "Please. We can fix this, baby. We can make it work."

"No we can't, Alice!" I shouted. "We can't fix you practically fucking my best friend at prom!"

"We were not practically fucking!" she argued.

"Well, what the hell do you call it, Alice?! I caught you with your skirt up and your legs around his waist!" I fumed. Realization struck. I lost it. "He knew where to touch you to make you giggle. Jesus Christ, Alice, how long has this been going on?!"

"It's not like that," she defended weakly.

"A while, then." I nodded unconsciously to myself. "Y'know what? Don't tell me. I don't need to know." Something moved in my peripheral vision and my eyes instinctively locked on the object moving. A seriously ashamed-looking Emmett emerged from around the corner, blood running from his nose. We locked eyes and he mouthed 'I'm sorry'. "I'm done with you," I spat. Neither of them had to ask who I meant.

Months upon months passed. Not a day went by that I didn't think of Alice and Emmett and wish everything had gone differently. And if the constant stream of emails into my inbox meant anything, they felt the same.

"Edward, please. You're my everything. I need you," she wrote.

"Dude, don't throw away eleven years of friendship over some chick. Bros before hos, Ed," he wrote.

I never wrote a word back.

Graduation was one of the loneliest events of my life. No friends, no party, no pomp or circumstance. Even the ceremony was miserable. Fucking alphabetical order. Three seats down from me sat an immaculately done up Alice. While the rest of us swam in our oversized white graduation gowns, hers seemed almost tailored to her. For all I knew, it could've been.

The keynote speaker – the big shot CEO of some company or something, I wasn't paying attention – droned on and on and my eyes wandered out of sheer boredom. They finally came to rest on a pair of bright red spiked heels before wandering slowly up the creamy, statuesque legs attached to them. One leg crossed purposefully over the other and the part in the gown fell open, allowing me a glimpse of smooth, alluring thigh and flimsy, black miniskirt. French manicured fingertips ran tauntingly along her skin, lifting the gown and skirt even higher. I licked my lips absentmindedly as flashback after flashback of what those fingertips could do and what lay under that skirt ran through my mind.

"Edward Anthony Cullen," the dean announced, waking me from my hypnosis. My eyes shot up to meet hers, sparkling as always with mischief and blatant lust. I rose from my seat and crossed the stage, officially ending my high school career. I should've been happy. I should've been excited. Instead I felt hollow.

When I returned to my seat, I found a folded piece of paper on it. Scribbled across the sheet in fire red lipstick was "Janitor's closet. 1:30. For old time's sake." I borrowed a pen from the girl next to me, wrote "Not if my life depended on it. Not after what you did." and handed it back.

A moment later, my phone vibrated. A text message. "You still want me. And I still love you. –A"

"You're right. I do. But you don't. –E"

"I miss you. –A"

"I don't care. –E"

"Don't lie to me. –A"

"You taught me how. –E"

I snapped my phone shut, swapped my tassel with the crowd, and threw my cap over my shoulder as I walked away. I didn't feel much like celebrating.

Summer came and went as most summers do. I spent a month in Tahiti with mother and her latest boyfriend, a month in Paris with father et sa femme du jour. In September, I gathered my things and got the hell out of Dodge. At least the dorms at Berkeley weren't full of harsh reminders and Ghosts of Fuckups Past.

My roommate was an overly friendly guy from Laguna Niguel named Mike. Tall, lean, blond and a ladies' man to the extreme, he was captain of the soccer team and a Dean's List non-profit management major. Between practices, games, library time and girlfriend juggling, he was almost never in the room. And that suited me just fine.

College was great. All new people, all new friends, all new memories being made. I was living it up. I finally understood why people called them the best years of your life.

That is until I walked into second semester Advanced Chemistry and saw a leggy brunette perched on my assigned lab table. She leaned back, resting her palms on the table and stretching her flawless and scantily clad body out for all to see. Her eyes looked me over just as they had the first time we met and a knowing smile crept its way across her face.

"Hey, baby," she said, mischievous and sultry all at once. She reached to her side and picked up a printed nametag from the table, holding it out for me to see. "Looks like we're lab partners."

"What're you doing here, Alice?" I asked, my voice as cold as I could make it. Last I'd heard she had decided against college in favor of trying her hand at modeling. She had the look and, God, did she ever have the body, but she didn't have the heart. Make that a heart.

"Learning chemistry, of course," she answered with faux innocence and sincerity. "Though I have to admit," her eyes swept over me once more, slowly and deliberately, and came to rest on the zipper of my jeans, "I'd much rather study anatomy." She pouted her lips ever so slightly, the way she knew made my imagination run wild. The second she was sure all my attention was focused where she wanted it, her tongue darted out and ran along her shiny upper lip. "Mmm… Vanilla," she smirked, taunting me with my favorite of her many lip gloss flavors.

Just as she'd surely planned, my mind wandered to happier times. And by happier, I mean more naked. I saw her grinning at me as she bent to put those talented, glossy lips to incredibly good use. I saw her satisfied smile as she licked the last traces of both me and her lipstick from her lips. I saw her pushing me onto my bed and declaring she wasn't even close to finished with me. I bit into my lip just thinking about it.

"Good times, weren't they?" she whispered in my ear. Her breath fanned hotly across my skin and every fiber of my being screamed to just throw her on the lab table and relive the so-called 'good times'.

"Yeah," I managed. "They were. Emphasis on the past tense."

"They could be again." She ran a finger down my chest and stretched on her tiptoes so we were nearly face-to-face. She leaned in, her chest pressed against me and her lips hovering a hair's breadth from mine. I could almost physically feel my resolve slipping away. "Kiss me, Edward," she commanded, and my lips actually tingled with the desire to do just that. "You know you want to."

Her arrogance hit me like a bucket of ice water.

"You're right. As always. I do want to." I could almost feel the victorious smirk play on her lips, making her astonished look as I stepped back and away from her that much sweeter. "But unlike you, I don't do everything I want. Or everyone." I turned and strode out of the classroom and straight to the Registrar's Office. Within twenty minutes I had an entirely new and hopefully Alice-free schedule.

Late that night, as I lay sprawled across my bed, nose in my Financial Accounting textbook, someone knocked at the door. I glanced at the clock – 11:19pm, way too early for Mike to be back from his date. I got up from the bed, opened the door and damn near rammed my head into the wall out of frustration.

"I brought brain food," she offered, smiling brightly and holding up a container of take-out sushi. She was inescapable. I moved to close the door in her face, but she held it open with what could only be described as one of the highest fuck-me heels I had ever seen her work her feet into.

"Edward, please," she said, her smile fading into near desperation. "Just give me a couple minutes. Let me explain myself."

"There's nothing for you to explain, Alice."

"Please? I just want to make amends." The look on her face was as pitiful as a scared puppy. I cursed my compassionate side as I stepped aside and gestured for her to come in.

"Thank you," she said and she sounded more sincere than I'd ever imagined her capable of sounding. She stepped tentatively across the room as though she were almost afraid of being there. I'd never seen her look so self-conscious. "Y'know, I meant every word I said in those emails," she said softly as she took a seat on the edge of my bed. "I feel lost without you." I sat next to her and she gently placed the container of sushi on my lap. "Go ahead. Eat. I'll talk. And I promise if you want me to leave when you're finished, I will." I nodded my consent to her as she offered me a set of chopsticks.

"It was a mistake, Edward," she began, staring down at her hands folded on her lap. "I know that doesn't even begin to cover it, but it was. One big fucking mistake. I still can't believe I did it. It was so… so stupid! I'll never be able to tell you how sorry I am." She glanced up at me, gauging my reaction.

"One down, nine to go," I warned her, following her established sushi timeline. "Keep talking."

"I know you'll never believe me, but I do love you." She shook her head as she thought about what to say next. "I guess I just didn't realize what I had until I lost it… until I threw it away, really. I don't blame you for leaving me. I deserved it. I would've left me too."

"Please don't tell me you're here to ask for another chance," I said between bites.

"No," she replied earnestly before laughing sadly to herself. "God, what I wouldn't give for that. But no. Like I said, I just want to apologize."

She paused and I held up five fingers, letting her know how long she had before I thanked her for dinner and kicked her out. I looked over and saw her once again staring at her lap. She sniffled and drew in a shaky breath.

"I was a wreck without you this summer," she said to her knees. "I kept seeing you everywhere, kept remembering all the good times and sweet moments. I swear I hallucinated you in bed with me once." She sniffled again and a tear dropped from her cheek onto her skirt. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Edward. I know it doesn't mean anything to you, that I don't mean anything to you. I just wanted you to know." Another tear splashed onto the fabric and I found myself setting my dinner aside and wrapping my arms around her without even thinking about it.

"Don't cry, Alice," I whispered, holding her in my arms for the first time in nearly nine months. A voice in my head screamed "Danger! Danger, Edward Cullen!" but I ignored it. I felt at home for the first time in so long. I just couldn't pass it up.

"I'm sorry," she sniffled, pulling away from me. She turned to her side and wiped the tears from her eyes before looking back at me. "I'll go now."

She turned to leave and I grabbed her arm to stop her. Her confused eyes locked on mine and my heart raced with misbegotten hope as I reached out and brushed a stray tear from her cheek. "Don't go," I said, not knowing what I was doing, and she reached her hand up and held mine to her face.

"Okay," she whispered. We sat there, staring at each other, our concerns and nerves laid out for all to see, for what seemed an interminable amount of time. I felt the same tingle in my lips I'd felt earlier in the day, and though it set off a thousand warning bells and raised a hundred red flags in my head, I couldn't stop myself. I pulled her to me and kissed her with all the disconcerting and misplaced adoration I still felt whenever I thought of her.

She kissed me like she'd expected it, like it was the most natural thing in the world for us to be alone in my dorm room, making out after I'd spent months trying to hate her. I still wanted to hate her. I just couldn't. Not with my head swimming in a sea of vanilla lip gloss and saltwater tears.

"Edward…" she whispered, half question, half unnecessary warning, as she pulled away and stared at me, her eyes wide with shock.

"Don't talk, Alice," I pled. Talking only made the confusion worse. I didn't want to be confused. I wanted to be comfortable, to feel at home again, to feel her.

"But…"

"Just… don't." I shook my head and pulled her to me once more. Somewhere in my brain, a tiny fraction of common sense warned me I was begging to get my heart broken. A much larger, clearly hormone-driven fraction told that part to shut up and notice how tiny her skirt was and how the only thing between me and paradise were a few flimsy snaps.

Before I knew it, I was laying her down on my bed and nipping at her neck as her hands roamed my back. I kissed my way down her throat, over her perfect collarbones and down to her chest. My fingers made quick work of the tiny, metallic clasps keeping her hidden from me. God bless whoever invented the snap.

She sat up to pull the now-pointless sweater off and I devoured her lips with mine as though I were dying and they were my only salvation. It felt like touching her was the only way to keep from going mad with the sheer idiocy of my actions.

I ran my fingers along her bare, honey-colored skin, loving that I could still give her goosebumps and make her heart race, as she pulled at my shirt, as desperate for skin-to-skin contact as I was. She pulled my shirt over my head and threw it on the floor as though its mere existence offended and disgusted her. The pointed heel of her unreasonably sexy shoe dug purposefully into my backside as she wound her legs around me.

"The tights are hot, but seriously inconvenient," I commented, running my hand along her unfortunately covered thigh.

"They're not tights," she said with a devilish grin. "They're thigh-highs." She lifted her hips, intentionally rubbing against me as she did so, and tugged her skirt up, revealing the lacy edging of her stockings and the straps to a black satin and lace garter belt.

"Dear God in Heaven…" I breathed and she giggled in delight at my reaction before pulling me back down against her and kissing me more passionately than she ever had before. She splayed her palms against my chest and I reveled in the touch of her soft skin until my blood-deprived brain decided to try to figure out why she was slowly pushing me off of her. I sat up, wondering what I had done wrong and she smiled seductively at me as she climbed off the bed.

She took a couple steps before looking over her shoulder, making sure I was watching. Her hips swayed rhythmically as she walked and they didn't stop when she stood still. She ran her hands through her hair before trailing them slowly down her body, touching everything I longed to touch, until they came to rest on the waist of her skirt. She took her time unzipping it and gradually lowered it to the floor, teasing me with the movement of her hips and a perfect view of her ass in the sexiest panties I had ever seen.

Her fingers danced their way to the clasps on the garter belt. "No," I commanded, licking my lips as she shot me an intrigued look. "Leave them on." A corner of her mouth lifted in an alluring smirk and she leisurely dragged her hands up to her bra. She reached behind her, unhooking the clasps, and pulled the straps down her arms one at a time, watching me over her shoulder. She held the lacy garment up and dropped it almost ceremoniously to the floor before strutting her way back over to where I sat on the bed.

She stopped just inches in front of me and ran her fingers through my hair as I put my hands on her hips and pulled her closer. Her pert nipples, hardened from arousal and exposure to the cool air, stared at me, begging me to kiss them, lick them, suck on them. Who was I to deny them? I ran my hands up her body and pulled her to me, taking one between my lips and flicking it with my tongue. A sigh of pleasure escaped her throat and her head lolled back as I teased her with my mouth.

Not wanting to leave even an inch of her neglected, I kissed my way to her other breast and repeated my actions on that nipple. Her hands left my hair and inched their way toward the painfully obvious bulge in my jeans. I let go of her and watched as she knelt down to unfasten them and pull them off of me. She licked me tauntingly through the fabric of my boxer briefs and I thought for sure I would lose it.

She crawled back onto the bed, one knee on each side of my legs, and rubbed against me as she kissed me. "Take me, Edward," she begged breathily, tormenting me as she moved. I grabbed her ass, half-covered in black lace, and moved us so she was beneath me again. My fingers found the edge of her panties and I pulled on the little ribbons on her hips, thanking deities of every religion the garter belt didn't have to go for the panties to.

I threw what now amounted to a scrap of lace on the floor and reached for my nightstand, astonished that some common sense could still prevail. As I dug through the drawer for my minute stash of condoms, she pulled my underwear off – with her toes. I didn't even want to think about where she'd practiced that trick.

I tore open the foil, tossing it to the floor as well, and rolled the condom on, complimenting myself on remembering to maintain my health when I wasn't exactly doing the same for my dignity or my sanity. I situated myself between her legs and the heels dug into my ass again as I slowly sheathed myself inside her.

It was, hands down, the best feeling in the world.

I moved slowly and deliberately, loving the expressions she made as I slid in and out of her. Better than the expressions – the sounds. Nothing in the world is sexier than the sounds she makes in bed. Nothing.

"Mmmm… faster," she pleaded and I shook my head. We'd had sex countless times, fucked more than either of us could keep track of. I'd be damned if the first time I felt her around me in so long was anything less than making love, and I was determined to prolong and enjoy every single second of it.

Eventually it got to be too much for the both of us, and I couldn't keep my slower pace as she lifted her hips to meet mine. "You want faster, baby?" I panted.

"God, yes," she moaned breathily, digging her nails into my back and driving me absolutely crazy.

I pulled her hips down, hard and flush with mine, and picked up my pace, pounding into her until I was nearly breathless and she was practically squeaking as she tried to stay quiet.

"Oh, God," she cried as I felt her tightening around me. She bit her lip in a feeble attempt to avoid being her usual loud self.

"Don't you dare hold out on me, Alice," I panted. "I want this whole damn campus to know how you feel right now."

"Fuck… YES! UGH!" she screamed as her legs shook against me. "God, yes… EDWARD!" Her nails dug into me so hard I thought I might bleed and it drove me over the edge right along with her.

We lay there for probably hours, panting and covered in sweat, enjoying each other's company like I hadn't thought possible, the masochist in me reborn and the high school romance from Hell rekindled.

Things were good at first. Astonishingly good. Not only good, but normal. No asinine fights, no pointless bickering, no heartbreaking cheating, no nonsense, really. But I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that this couldn't last forever. I was walking on eggshells, waiting for the other shoe to drop and wondering what would be the thing to break us this time. It was no way to be in love.

The paranoia ebbed over time as first days, then weeks, then months went by without a single fight. By our six month anniversary – which I was shocked to discover she wanted to celebrate – I was convinced she was an entirely new Alice. She suggested we go away for the occasion and didn't even demand a Sarkozy-controlled tropical island.

"Bella told me about this spa resort her mother went to once," she explained her roommate's recommendation to me. "We could just relax and spend the weekend together. Just be us – no classes, no homework, no distractions."

"I like the sound of that," I said, wrapping my arms around her as I entertained the many possibilities of a place like that.

"We could get a couples' massage and drink champagne with strawberries in it," she added, relaxing into my touch. "And they even have rooms with ocean views and fireplaces in them."

"How much?" I asked, anticipating a price tag the size of Rhode Island and a six hour flight.

"I don't know. I didn't ask. I just liked the sound of it. And it seemed really convenient, since it's just a couple towns over," she said. "Besides, I wanted to talk to you about it first, see what you thought." She was a completely different person. I loved it. I loved her.

The resort was incredible. Spacious rooms, amenities I'd never even thought of, and our own private patio overlooking the ocean. It was easily the most romantic place I'd ever been. Alice liked it so much she insisted we break in each of the rooms in our suite the moment we checked in. I almost felt bad for the housekeeping staff.

Six months later, we were still going strong, and she was still the new and improved Alice. I was amazed. We hadn't fought once and I never saw her even look at another guy when we were together. She spent more nights in my room than she did in hers. It was like a dream. It was everything I'd wanted since junior year of high school.

As our third year began and our second anniversary loomed, I found myself thinking about things that felt much more important than school. Things that felt much more long-term. Things that revolved entirely around the woman Alice had become and how much I adored her. Shortly before Christmas, I called my father and had a very important, and to him, very surprising, discussion.

"Joyeux Noël!" he greeted me after three rings.

"You're two weeks early, old man," I said, laughing as I addressed him far less formally than I ever had.

"Edward?"

"Don't sound so surprised to hear from me," I chuckled.

"Oh, I'm not surprised to hear from you. I'm surprised to hear you sound so happy. Rather pleasantly surprised, actually."

"Thank you?"

He laughed the contented, good-natured laugh of someone whose life finally seemed to be going right. It made me wonder just how miserable I had seemed to him before Alice and I reconciled.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of an international phone call from my only son?" he asked, his voice full of curiosity and careful optimism.

"I can't exactly make a domestic call to Paris," I teased before getting down to business. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something. Something rather important."

"Something girl-related?"

"Yes."

"Will it take nine months to plan or nine months to grow?"

"Father!"

"It's a legitimate question, Edward." I could hear him clearly trying not to laugh at my reaction.

"Yes, but there was probably a better way to ask it."

"You're right," he admitted. "So what is this rather important, girl-related something?"

I took a deep breath and voiced my unspoken thoughts for the first time. "I'm thinking of asking Alice to marry me." It felt surprisingly good to say it. Surprisingly real and possible. I wanted to say it again. I wanted to tell everyone I knew.

"Alice…" he trailed off, not sounding entirely pleased with the idea. "The same Alice from high school?"

"Yes and no."

"Either she is or she isn't, son. Which is it?"

"It's the same girl, yes. But she's an entirely different person now. We're different."

"But it's still the same Alice that slept with your best friend. The same girl who's responsible for you and Emmett no longer speaking," he reminded me unnecessarily. "She's trouble, Edward."

"No, Father. She used to be trouble," I argued. "She's completely changed. You don't know her."

"Are you sure you do?" he asked pointedly.

"Absolutely."

"And you love her?"

"More than anything. And before you even ask, yes, I'm sure she loves me."

He heaved a heavy sigh and I could feel his discomfort and concern even from nearly half a world away. "I know you're not looking for my permission. Nor do you need it. But I need you to know that, while I only want what makes you happy, I don't feel that I can condone this. Actually, I feel that you'd be making a rather large mistake." He paused and I knew from years of phone calls filled with similar silences that he wasn't done and it wasn't my turn to speak, no matter how much I wanted to.

"But," he continued after a moment, "you're my son, and if this is really what you want, I'll support you."

"That's all I needed to hear."

"C'est pour toi que je suis là, mon gars." It sounded almost cautionary instead of loving.

"I know, Father. But, I won't need you to be."

"I love you."

"I love you, too." I hung up feeling slightly deflated and far more determined.

As our anniversary got closer, I began making plans and putting them into action. I visited a slew of local jewelry stores looking for the perfect ring. They all boasted fancy gold and diamond rings, some with stones so large I thought they might put Alice's small hands out of commission if she tried to wear them. But I didn't want diamonds. I didn't want gold. I wanted something different, something unique like Alice was. The clerk at the fifth store I visited proudly directed me to a case of colorful gemstone engagement rings, pointing out several he was 'sure she would absolutely adore'. In a corner of the case he neglected to highlight sat a thin platinum band with a brilliant red ruby accented by tiny circular diamonds. The way the light reflected off the center stone reminded me of the shiny, red glossed lips that had first attracted me to Alice. It was perfect.

"That one," I cut him off mid-sentence and gestured to the ring in question.

"The ruby is not traditionally chosen for an engagement, sir," he said as though he were walking someone with the IQ of a rock through creating rocket fuel. An odd statement considering none of the stones in that particular case were 'traditionally chosen for an engagement'.

"I'm well aware. I'm not looking for traditional, and I want that ring." He rang it up for me and I left with a smile on my face and Phase One of Operation Alice Elizabeth Cullen complete.

In a twist of fate and perfect timing, that very night as we watched a crappy made-for-TV movie in the common area of the dorms, she turned to me and asked what I thought we should do 'to celebrate two years of pure happiness'.

"I thought we might go away again, just the two of us," I told her. "As a matter of fact, we already have reservations."

"We do?" I nodded, smiling at the pleasantly surprised look on her face, and kissed her gently. I'd called the spa resort she'd loved so much a year and a half before and made reservations for the weekend of our anniversary as I left the jewelry store. Not only did I book us two nights at the same resort, but I got the same room and even managed to get room service prepared to have a candlelight dinner ready for us when we arrived. I had everything planned to a tee.

"We do. And that's all I'm telling you."

After Alice's last class on our anniversary, we threw our overnight bags in my car and headed out toward the resort. She figured out in short time where we were headed and leaned across the center console to kiss me on the cheek and tell me how much she loved my romantic side.

We pulled up to the valet at ten minutes to seven, just as I'd planned. A quick check-in and then what I hoped would be the best dinner of my life. As I carried our bags down the hall to our suite, recognition lit up Alice's face and she practically skipped to the door.

"You got us the same suite," she said, awe and love in her voice. I nodded as she slid the key card into the lock and opened the door. The lights were dimmed and faint music drifted out. She glanced back at me, her face alight with intrigue and happy suspicion.

She ran ahead of me, trying to find the source of the music as I put the bags in the bedroom. When the faint sound of her footsteps was replaced with a muted "Oh, Edward," I knew she'd reached the dining room.

"Do you like it?" I asked coming up behind her and wrapping my arms around her waist.

"I love it." She turned and smiled happily up at me. "I love you."

"I love you, too." I leaned down to kiss her and almost laughed when she pushed me against the wall and clearly, though nonverbally implied I'd earned more than just a kiss. I cupped her cheek with my hand and smiled lovingly at her. "Later, baby. First, dinner." I pulled her chair out and gestured for her to sit and eat.

The food was fantastic and the wine they sent up with it was some of the best I'd ever tasted. As Alice finished her last bite of dinner, the butterflies began to build up in my stomach over what came next. I'd tried to imagine her saying 'no' before so I might be prepared if she did, but until that moment, it had never seemed a real possibility. Hundreds of ways she could turn me down ran through my mind and I felt the tiniest bit like I might die then and there from the nerves.

"Edward, are you okay?" she asked, concern coloring her tone.

"I got you a present." Not exactly an answer, but the segue I needed to get over my fear.

She smiled brightly at me. "I got you something, too," she said. "Can I go first? I really want see your reaction."

"Of course."

She leaned down to dig through the pocketbook she'd put on the floor next to her chair and emerged with a red suede bag tied with white ribbon. "I found them on the internet. They made me think of you," she said, blushing slightly as she handed me the surprisingly heavy pouch.

I pulled the ribbon and found what looked to be several metal rocks. I poured a couple into my hand and noticed they each had writing on them. 'I love you…' on one side and a reason on the other. I held in my palm '…for always getting my jokes', '…because of your great smile', and '…for being so giving.' I poured them back into the pouch and set it on the table, smiling at her.

"You don't think they're stupid, do you?" she asked nervously. "Bella thought they were stupid."

"I think they're great, baby. I love them."

"But why do you love them?" she asked, making a joke off the rocks.

"Because you gave them to me," I replied, reaching out to take her hand.

She smiled happily, clearly trying to behave and not ask for her present. Her curiosity quickly got the best of her and she blurted out "Can I have my present now?" looking much like a small child on Christmas morning.

"Of course." I pulled the velvet covered box from the jewelry store out of my pocket and placed it on the table in front of her. Her eyes went wide as saucers and I struggled not to laugh.

"Edward…" she started.

"Just open it," I said, feeling strangely confident in the moment.

She tentatively lifted the lid to the box and looked shocked to find a folded piece of paper instead of jewelry. She unfolded it carefully, meeting my bemused gaze with her own bewildered look.

"Épouse-moi," she read. "Baby, I haven't used French since St. Barts. I don't know what that…" she trailed off as she looked behind the paper at the other item in the box. "Means," she finished in a breath, looking up at me, her eyes wide and her mouth open slightly.

"Marry me," I said, both translation and request.

"Oh my God," she breathed. "I… But… Oh my… Yes! Yes!" Her face lit up as I took the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger. It fit perfectly and she stared down at it in awe.

"Happy anniversary," I said. She practically flew out of her chair and onto my lap, capturing my lips with hers upon impact.

"I love you," she said over and over again as she kissed me everywhere she could reach.

The second we got back from the resort, Alice was in full-on wedding planning mode. She spent less and less time at my dorm, but that was understandable. And every time she did come over, she had some new picture of a gown or a cake or flowers that she wanted. Poor Bella even started coming to visit me just to escape the swaths of taffeta and satin and all the talk about bridesmaids dresses. She struck me as a rather strange girl. It always seemed like she had some deep, dark secret she was struggling to keep from going public.

Alice was a planning nut. Within a month, we'd set a date in the summer and she'd booked a public rose garden for the ceremony – neither of us wanted a church – a hall for the reception and a restaurant for the rehearsal dinner. She even booked flights for my parents and their guests, whoever they were going to be. She dragged Bella and her mother out gown shopping and came home declaring she found the perfect gown and that it would absolutely knock the wind out of me to see it. I didn't doubt it for a second.

It amazed me how much she accomplished in such a short period of time. I thought she'd covered all the necessary items within the first two months, but she was still gone all the time. She said wedding planning was difficult and time consuming, and since I'd given her the go-ahead to go crazy and plan anything she wanted, I assumed she was simply going all out. The strange thing was, it seemed the more Alice was gone, the more Bella was around.

"Alice is really getting into this whole planning thing, isn't she?" I asked during one of Bella's spontaneous visits.

"Yeah," she said shortly and I looked at her curiously. "I mean, yes, she's really into it. She has a lot to do."

"Like what? She already bought her gown and your dress and booked everything I can think of. I guess it's a girl thing, right?"

"Yeah," she said again. "Uhm, yeah, it's… it's a girl thing."

"Bella, can I ask you something?"

"Sure. I guess."

"Why do you always seem so tense?"

"I don't know. Just am." Her expression got more and more nervous as we spoke.

"If I can be frank, it seems like you're hiding something," I said, laying my cards on the table.

"What?" she stammered, a scared look on her face. "I'm not… I'm not hiding anything. Why would I be hiding something? I don't know anything."

"You've never been very good at keeping secrets, have you?" I laughed.

"No," she admitted and we sat in awkward silence for a moment. Then she broke. "Edward, I really like you," she blurted.

"Is that what this is all about? You have a crush on me?"

"God, no. I mean, not that I wouldn't. You're great. I just mean…" she trailed off, searching for the right words. "You're a good guy. A great guy, really. And I love Alice, but… Ugh, I can't do this anymore."

"What's going on, Bella?" I asked, a sinking feeling in my chest.

"Mike quit the soccer team last year."

"So?"

"So when he tells you he's going to soccer practice, he's not."

"Why would he lie to me about something stupid like that? And what does it have to do with… Oh my God." Light dawned on my thick, marble head.

"I am so sorry," Bella blurted out, her face the strangest combination of ashamed and worried.

"Are you sure?" She nodded sadly, looking like she might cry. "I am such an idiot," I said to myself.

"No, you're not," she argued. "Love makes people blind, right?"

"That it does," I agreed, debating who I should be more upset with, Alice or myself.

Heartbroken and terrified, I decided second-hand information wasn't necessarily a reliable source. I pulled out my cell phone and gestured to Bella to give me hers. With mine, I called Alice.

"Hi, baby! I was just thinking about you," she answered.

"Were you?" I said, dialing Mike's number on Bella's phone.

"Of course! When am I not?" Mike's ringtone of choice played in the background.

"What's Mike doing there, Alice?" I asked, venom in my voice.

"Mike? What makes you think Mike's here?"

"That's his ringtone."

"No, baby. That was the radio," she said nervously.

"Oh. Okay." I hit redial on Bella's phone and the tone played again on Alice's end. "Their CD must be skipping then, huh?"

"Baby, it's not what you think…"

"I'm not dealing with this shit again, Alice. I can't and I won't." I handed Bella back her phone and she whispered "I'm so sorry" as I smiled sadly to her, appreciating her honesty despite the situation it put me in.

"It's not what you think!" she repeated.

"Then what is it, Alice?" I fumed.

Strange noises came from her end of the phone and suddenly Mike's voice was talking instead of Alice's. "I'm helping her find a wedding gift for you, you paranoid asshole. She wanted it to be a surprise. Now apologize to your fiancée so she'll stop crying."

I felt like an even bigger fool than I had when Bella told me about Mike. Not only wasn't she cheating again, but she was trying to do something nice for me. And I ruined it by being a paranoid asshole, just like Mike said. He handed the phone back to Alice and I heard her sniffles through the receiver.

"Baby, I am so sorry," I apologized. "I'm exactly what Mike said. I'm a paranoid asshole, and I am so sorry I hurt you." Bella shot me a confused look and I shook my head at her, trying to tell her without words that she was wrong.

Alice sniffled miserably on the phone. "It's okay. I deserved that."

"No, baby. You didn't. I'm sorry."

"I should've just told you," she cried.

"No, no. It was sweet of you to try and surprise me." Bella raised an eyebrow at me and I shook my head again.

"I love you, Edward. I wouldn't do that to you," Alice whimpered.

"I know, baby. I know. I love you, too."

"Can I go back to shopping now?" she asked, trying to laugh it off.

"Have fun," I said, hanging up after I heard her kiss the phone. "You were wrong, Bells," I told her.

She shook her head frantically. "No, Edward, I wasn't."

"Did you see them?"

"No, bu—"

"Well there you go, then," I cut her off rudely and stormed into my room, berating myself for being so ready to accept the worst of the woman I was getting ready to commit my life to.

I spent weeks trying to figure out a way to make up for believing Bella and before I knew it, it was a month before the wedding and I was at what Alice was calling our "Jack and Jill". She said bridal parties were lame and she wasn't keen on the idea of a bachelor party – especially after the incident with Mike – and this was the perfect compromise. I couldn't help but agree, and I had no qualms sacrificing my bachelor party to make her feel better. I hadn't really wanted one anyhow.

Our friends all gathered in a hall to wish us well with our upcoming nuptials. There was food to spare, great music and the funniest karaoke competition I had ever borne witness to – Alice's aunt may have been a dead ringer for Deborah Harry, but the Blondie singer she most definitely was not. There were toasts given and stories told and Alice seemed to be having a great time. I sure was.

Halfway through the party, Alice realized she'd forgotten to pick up the cake. I told her it was no big deal, that there was plenty of food there and no one would miss it, but she'd had it special ordered and really wanted it, so I offered to run out and get it.

"You're too good to me," she said.

Roughly twenty minutes later, I found out just how right she was. And just how right Bella had been.

I pulled back up to the function hall, cake in tow. I decided it would be best to park near the rear entrance so I wouldn't have to carry the surprisingly large cake as far. I parked my car, grabbed the cake, walked through the back door and covered my feet in angel food and better cream frosting.

Two shocked faces turned toward me as the cake hit the floor.

It was like prom all over again. Only worse.

Alice looked like a deer in headlights.

My father looked even more frightened.

"You were right," I said to him. "She is trouble. And so are you."

"Son…" he started.

"Don't you dare call me that! You lost the right to call me any sort of family the second you laid a hand on my fiancée!"

"Edward…" Alice tried.

"And you! Jesus, Alice." I shook my head. "We're fucking done. And this time, I mean it. Get your shit out of my room. I never want to see you again."

"Edward!" she cried, tears in her voice.

"Don't give me that shit, Alice. If this were really that upsetting to you, it wouldn't have happened in the first place."

I turned to stalk out of the hall and leave her to tell our friends why there was not only no cake, but no party and ultimately no wedding, and realized I was being even more naïve than I'd thought.

"Bella was right, wasn't she?" I asked.

"What?"

"What's my wedding present, Alice?" I spat. "I'm sure you found a really great one after you put in so much fucking time and effort with my roommate." A hurt look flashed across her face as she looked at the floor. "That's what I thought."

I pulled my cell phone out and dialed Bella as I headed for the door.

"Hello?" she answered.

"You were right," I said, turning to look Alice in the eyes one last time. "I almost married a whore."

The next day, I put first and last down on a small studio apartment and moved out of my dorm. No way in Hell was I going to live with someone who would lie to me about so much so easily. Not to mention someone who had the audacity to call me an asshole when he was sleeping with my fiancée.

"That was a month ago today," I told the blond stranger.

"So then today was supposed to be…" he started.

"Yup," I said, taking a sip of my coffee. "My wedding day."

"I am so sorry, man," he said, shaking his head.

"And I am so sick of having to hear that."

"What a whore," he muttered. "She doesn't deserve you, man." He nudged me with his elbow. "You can do a Hell of a lot better than her anyhow, good lookin' guy like you."

"Thanks," I said, offering a half-hearted smile.

A bell chimed behind us, signaling the entrance of another patron.

Stiletto heels clicked along the floor, driving home my loss and suffering.

"Ready, baby?" a familiar voice asked. Fuck me, now I'm hallucinating.

I looked up to ask my new confidante if he'd heard it too and saw a small, French manicured hand on his shoulder. A small, French manicured hand with a platinum, ruby and diamond ring on it.

"We're gonna be late." She smiled at him before looking over at me. For a quick second, she looked surprised. Then hurt. Then overwhelmingly arrogant. "Who's your friend?" she asked as though she'd never seen me before in her life.

"Edward, this is Liz, my girlfriend," he introduced.

"Edward? Now that's a name you don't hear all the time," she said, extending her right hand – the one with my ring on it – toward me.

"Funny," I said. "You don't look like a Liz." She smiled at me, saccharine sweet.

My eyes caught a glimpse of crowded block lettering on her shirt. "Turbulent. Manipulative. Indulgent. Articulate. Righteous. Refined. Virtuoso," it read. Well, five out of seven ain't bad.

"I like your shirt," I commented.

"Thank you," she said before turning back to Jay. "C'mon, baby. I don't wanna miss the previews."

"Hey, I'll see ya around, man," he said, tapping me on the arm with the back of his hand. He tossed a twenty dollar bill and his business card on the counter. "That's my number. Call me, we'll go to a game some time." I nodded, not taking my eyes of her as she pulled him toward the door. "And cheer up. She ain't worth bein' upset over. She's nothin'."

"Oh no," I said. "She's everything." She grinned maliciously behind him as he nodded slowly.

"Nice meeting you, Edward," she said, as they reached the door.

"Nice knowing you, Alice," I returned as the door shut behind them.