The "AwkWard" Contest

Story Title: The Don'ts of Dating a Police Chief's Daughter

Pen Name: Nayarit

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or any of its characters.

To see other entries in the "AwkWard" contest, please visit the C2:
www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/community/AwkWard_Contest/78356/

Note: I hope you all enjoy, 'cause I did! xx

My eyes closed viciously, as if they were steel doors to a solitary confinement—sealing the person in from the outside. In my mind, I heard it all: the clank, the thunderous boom, and the skin churning echo of my last look at the outside world as a free man. I wanted to hide—God how I wanted to disappear—but since I knew there was nowhere to go and nothing else I could do, I cringed and my shoulders swallowed my frame.

This is bad. This is s-o-o-o bad.

I stood there, body contorted in embarrassment and—let's face it—fear, waiting for him to say something, anything. But then again, I prayed he wouldn't say a word. My face was tingling from the scrunched hold it took to seal my eyes shut from this situation, and my toes had curled and uncurled over a hundred times around the seam of my black socks under my converse. Yesterday—yeah—that's when I think I stopped breathing.

"Edward . . . ." It was terse and dry and sent razorblades skating across my skin. I was thanking my lucky stars that the first words out of his mouth weren't "you're a dead man," because we both knew that's what he really wanted to say. That's what was true.

I swallowed the lump the size of Montana in my throat, but it wouldn't go down. So instead of a seemingly quiet attempt at clearing up my throat I actually ending up hacking like a disease infested street cat right in front of him. Could this get any worse?

Smooth Edward.

"Are you ok?" the woman in front of me asked, finally saying something. Where was she ten minutes ago? I opened my eyes and looked at her, pleading—screaming every non verbal message I could. Morse code with my blinking, a stare that said "I'm in trouble call someone, hurry," even a quivering lip to get some sympathy, but instead of helping the drowning boy before her, she turned around to complete her job.

"Edward, you better have a damn good explanation?" Police Chief Swan said from behind me; demanded really, in a voice that made Clint Eastwood quiver. And, I knew I couldn't hide anymore. If that's what it was that I was doing before. It was actually more like cowering.

Slower than molasses in January, I turned around to face him. His arms were at his waist, held up by his uniform's utility belt and it didn't escape my notice that his right hand was over his gun—his uncased gun. Then again, I bet it didn't escape his notice either. My hacking grew exponentially as I came face to face with a pair of black eyes that asked for my head on a silver platter. Suddenly I was very itchy and now I was scratching as I looked up at him.

When did he get so tall?

He cleared his throat, and I had a coronary. What the hell was I supposed to say?

Well, it's a funny story really . . . Chief, can I call you Chief? You're gonna laugh when I tell you this . . . no? Can I please make one final phone call then? Please, I've been a good kid, my parents love me. Let me say goodbye. Can I call Bella . . . oh, wait, no? Right, that would be bad, umm . . . .

~xx~

I was five and sitting in the sandbox at the local park playing with my Megatron and Bumble Bee when Bumble Bee did a nose dive right into Megatron's stomach and sent him flying through the air with a boom and whoosh. Smiling, because Bumble Bee was the coolest and always beat Megatron, I went to collect the defeated toy. I was planning in my mind just how cool it was going to be for round six when Bumble Bee could do a triple flip attack when I tripped and fell over something. My knee went into the sand and dirt splashed everywhere around me. But, yuckiest, it went into my mouth. I didn't cry. Mom always said that big boys shouldn't cry, but I was hearing crying.

When I looked around I saw a big, brown-eyed, little girl crying and one of her legs was out in front of her. Long, brown hair matted to her forehead with the sand that went everywhere. I think I must have tripped over that outspread leg. Although now when we talked about it, I would state vehemently that she stuck that leg out on purpose. She wanted to get my attention. The screaming little girl drew over her frantic mother to check on her and my mom went to her too. Neither one of them seemed to care about me. I was the one who fell after all, and there was sand all over my face and in my wild bronze hair.

It was when I was five years old that I met Isabella Swan and—coincidently—at the very same moment learned that everyone would always favor her over me.

After that first run in, my mom, Esme, and Isabella's mom, Renee, became best friends. They started getting crazy ideas like play dates and preschool for both me and Isabella. It turned out she was five too, just a few months younger than me. That was how Bella became a permanent fixture in my life.

When I was seven and my dad, Carlisle, built me my first tree house I wasn't allowed to make it a boys club only because Bella was a girl and my mom said that "wasn't very nice." One time when I was nine all the guys were riding their bikes down a steep hill, we were all doing it with no hands, Bella fell and scrapped her knees and I got in trouble for not watching on her. It wasn't my fault she was a girl and she was so clumsy. So when we both turned thirteen and she started having girl friends I was excited because I would finally get rid of her.

I was tired of sharing my birthdays with Bella, tired of dragging her along wherever I wanted to go, and most tired of hearing her whine because she didn't want to see if the old house was haunted or like the idea of bear hunting in the forest behind my house. Good riddance, I remembered thinking when she stopped coming over and played with her friends Rosalie and Alice instead.

But my mom was still Renee's best friend. Bella's dad, Charlie, was a police officer and he worked long hours. Everybody respected Charlie Swan; he was the cold, silent type of fearsome and his long arm of the law extended far beyond the khaki sleeves he wore proudly. My dad was a doctor at the local hospital and he worked long hours too. Both women were destined to find friendship with each other. Sometimes my mom would still drag me along to Bella's house whenever she visited Renee, and I would always hear Bella and the girls laughing upstairs. When I was fourteen, I learned that I was jealous Bella had friends she liked more than me.

So I did what I do best: I weaseled my way back into Bella's life. And this time we became inseparable, but not because we were forced to, because we both wanted to.

I grew to love Bella for her strength, kind heart, and silly quirks. Bella wouldn't drink out of straws because they scared her. Sometimes, if she was sad, she would cut an onion on purpose because she said she "needed a good cry." But the funniest thing about Bella was when she read; Bella loved to read.

Bella had full blown conversations with the characters, while she was reading. It was a riot to watch. She would yell at Heathcliff for being so stupid and ramble on about what she would have done instead, turning the pages, still engrossed she pushed her long brown hair to the side and continued on in her own world. Or she'd talk to Juliet about how she completely understood what she was going through as her doe, brown eyes misted.

But Bella said I had my quirks, too. I honestly had no idea what she was talking about. She would just giggle softly at me when I told her this then rub her small hands through my forest of reddish-brown hair.

Either way we were best friends. We spent all our time together at her house or mine. We talked about books and music. If we went out we saw movies together or to the beach at La Push. She helped me with my English homework, and I helped her with her math. I went to her poetry readings, and she went to my piano recitals. She taught me how to cook, and I showed her a thing or two about baseball.

When we were fifteen, we shared our first kiss. It didn't go so well, but it was still the coolest thing I had ever done with Bella up until that point. We were talking about a movie we had seen and the couple were making out like rabbits. And I guess Bella just decided she wanted to try it and get it over with. So she leaned in, but I didn't know what she was doing so her teeth clipped my nose and she turned red. Classic Bella. But after that first try we decided to try again and again. And pretty soon we wanted to try more and more.

And if I thought we were inseparable before, well, once Bella and my relationship took a different turn you couldn't get me away from her. As teenagers do, we grew up—together. She grew into her long arms and her soft face thinned out. Bella was beautiful and she was perfect. I grew taller, and my green eyes matured. She said I was dreamy. But not only did we grow physically we grew emotionally, too. I loved Bella with every inch of my tall body, and I knew that my Bella loved me just as fiercely. She was pretty fierce after all.

On Bella's seventeenth birthday she told me that she wanted us to make love. That was the greatest day of my life. But she said that we had to be prepared first. Of course I agreed to whatever terms she came up with. Looking back now, maybe I should have thought that through and not let my hormones lead the way.

"You want what?" my dad asked from behind his desk. I bit my lip nervously as my hand ran through my thick bronze hair.

"Well . . . see the thing is . . . umm . . . Bella and I were talking . . . and you know how you've always wanted me to . . . you know . . . be safe." I usually wasn't one to stutter. My dad narrowed a blonde eyebrow my way before crossing his arms over his chest. His white overcoat crinkled. "Well . . . and this is all Bella's idea . . . I swear . . . but can you, you know . . . umm-can-you-write-a-prescription-for-shmershcontrol?" I rushed, swallowing quickly and looking at him panicked.

"How about you try that again, one more time Edward," my dad said in a very calm voice, almost too calm. "And this time you better not be asking for what I think you're asking for." I wanted to die.

I was going to kill Bella for making me agree to this. But if I thought that was bad then I had no idea what I was in for later.

After a two hour long castigation for Carlisle and a promise that he wouldn't discuss the situation with Bella's parents, I left his office with the prescription in hand. That same day I went to the Walgreen's closest to Bella's house to drop off the prescription.

That was the end of it or so I thought. Two weeks later I found out it wasn't.

"I love you Bella," I said against her lips before I crashed mine to hers once more. The sweetest taste engulfed me, and I was intoxicated in her strawberry scent. My eyes closed as her soft lips moved against mine, our breathing picking up pace.

Her small hands wove into my hair to bring me closer to her. I shifted my position from above her as I kicked our geometry books off my bed. She squirmed underneath me and the movement spread a heat across my body, a heat that caused a reaction that didn't go unnoticed by Bella. Lamentably, she pulled away.

"Edward . . . Edward we have to stop," Bella said a bit breathless. Her soft, chocolate eyes were glassy, and I tried to pull her back to my lips. She smiled slightly before shifting away from me more.

"Why?" I didn't mean for it to sound so petulant. Her beautiful smile turned slightly before she started gnawing on her bottom lip and tucking her long, brown locks behind her ear.

"I still haven't picked up the prescription," she confessed through a bright, red blush and downcast eyes. "Sorry, I just keep forgetting."

"Bella," I huffed. "The deal was I was supposed to get it and fill it and you were supposed to pick it up."

"I know, I know . . . it's just I forget," Bella rebutted.

After another two weeks of Bella's forgetting, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Really, a man could only take so many cold showers a day.

Smiling brightly at the cashier behind the counter, I gave her the receipt. She went to a couple of bins along the back wall before finally finding the one I needed.

"Swan, here you are," she said as she opened up the folded white paper bag. When she checked the contents to make sure that everything was in order, since it had been a month, her lips pursed. Her blue eyes met mine, and I knew she was suspicious. "And make sure that you tell her to read the pamphlet thoroughly because Ortho Tri-cyclen can carry serious side effects."

"Okay, no problem, I'll tell my mom." She shook her head—small towns; she knew I was lying. A stiff cough from behind me stung—freezing—all the way to my bones, but it was the next words out of the woman's mouth that left my jaw dropping and had me groveling instantly for mercy.

"Oh Chief, I'll be with you in just a second."