Disclaimer: No, I do not own Twilight, it belongs to Stephenie Meyer.

A/N: Don't hold it against me that I just couldn't get myself not to write this. :P It was absolutely a necessity, because it's been bugging me and won't let me write anything else. I tried so hard to play around with it and write it in first person - it, A, didn't flow, and B, made my writer's block even worse. So this is the product, something I'm not so proud of, but at the same time, have a lot of ideas I can't hold back for. I guess that's just how these things go, huh?

Anyway, read and tell me what you think, please? :) This is something I wrote in between finishing up another fanfic (You Got Love!, go read it, that's my subtle advertising for today xD), and whether I'm going to continue it or not I dunno. You never know with me. I might even get another chapter out tomorrow even though I say I won't, because I'm just like that.

The point is, read and review and tell me what you think. Thanks in advance, and try to enjoy my scattered story, brought to you by the pain in the ass writers like to call "The Block".

By the way - if you can guess where the title comes from, you get a cookie. ;)

In her entire life, there had never been anything she was the best at. She had tried just about anything, almost everything, to try and do something just a tiny bit better than him. When she was five and he had moved into the house down the street, the extremely large, white, and beautiful house she had always dreamed of living in, she was understandably a little bit jealous. After all, she'd pass it with her mother when they took walks down the streets – this was, of course, when her mother was in exercise, weight-obsessed phase – and she'd had her fair shares of fantasies about that house. Her own house wasn't exactly small, but it was modest, homey. The outside of that old white house was nothing short of breathtaking, the kind of houses where little girls dreamed of moving into when they finally got married and were old enough to move out.

Though, when her mother had informed her that there was a little boy in the family that had moved in said house, just about her age, she had been delighted. Even though he had taken her dream house, she decided not to hold it against him, considering it was hardly his fault. After all, she could find a new house to have her fantasies in, and the house next door was just as good-looking.

This was, of course, before she had actually met the green-eyed beauty that was Edward Masen.

It was the first day of kindergarten. She was excited, elated, to finally be out of the house with her obsessive mother and her overly happy soon-to-be stepfather Phil. Finally she got to go to school and meet other kids, and maybe that little boy who she had been too scared to approach. She had seen the back of his head, the silky looking reddish brown locks, but that was just about it. Instead of fantasies about the house she had begun having strange dreams of reaching out and touching the hair, just to see if it was as soft as it looked. It was all so silly, and when she told her mother, she had squealed that she had found her first crush and something about puppy love. Needless to say, there had not been any further discussion about the boy with the soft-looking hair.

She was just a bit flustered. When she actually tried to talk to anyone, nothing seemed to want to come out of her mouth. She'd smile and her mouth would open as if to actually talk to the person in front of her, and then like a mental block, she'd freeze and there would be no words. She didn't understand why it was so hard for her to speak – was there something wrong with her? This suspicion only increased when she had looked over and seen that soft-haired boy, talking easily to someone. His voice was like singing, and she just didn't understand how he could talk so smoothly, without stuttering or tripping over words or blushing. She didn't understand why her knotted brown locks fell into her face and managed to look messy and un-tamed, while his auburn locks did the same thing and managed to look good. His hair was messy and with every move it got messier, so then why did it still look so soft, so perfect? Why were his eyes such an innocent, deep shade of emerald and why did they manage to hold confidence when she lacked so much of it?

They'd gone out to play kickball, and by now, she was beyond irritated. She hadn't actually managed to speak a word yet, but her eyes had been completely focused on the boy across the room, who had 

already seemed to be surrounded by newly-made friends. She didn't like him – that might just be the understatement of the century. She absolutely loathed him.

Then it happened. She was up to kick the ball, and she was desperate at this point. She had never been good at sports, at least not when she played with her father back in rainy Forks, but she was willing to try. After all, she had a lot of built up embarrassment and aggravation to get out. So, her foot extended, and she was pretty sure she had kicked the ball – until, so abruptly that she hadn't even realized it, she was on the ground, the ball going about an inch and bouncing.

Laughter. There was laughter all around her, but only one chuckle was really hared from her – a muffled, beautiful noise from that bronze-haired boy she loathed oh so much. She rolled her eyes, turning away from him and crossing her arms, heat rushing to her cheeks.

From that moment on, Edward Masen had become her rival. She had done absolutely everything to beat him at anything she could. He was better at sports, making friends, his house was bigger, he was most definitely better-looking, and he was the smartest boy she had ever met. He made that clear rather soon, after he was in the same class as her all through grade school. Over and over he beat her at everything – spelling bees, school science fairs, dating, amount of friends, looks, money, you name it and he had beat her at it.

She had come to terms that she was never going to beat Edward Masen at anything by the summer of ninth grade, and she absolutely loathed it – she absolutely loathed him.

Then when her mother told her she was moving to the rainy town of Forks to live with her father, well, there was only one good thing about the situation.

She would never have to see Edward Masen as long as she lived. She'd never have to see that stupid crooked smile on his face and that annoying wink he always gave her when he beat her again, shredding whatever pride she had back to little itsy bits. That was just about the only upside, of course, but a rather big one nonetheless.

"Dad!"

She screamed the word as she made her way out of the kitchen, half-bitten apple still in hand. Her father's footsteps made a loud stomping noise as he made his way down the stairs. She grabbed her bag, slung it over a shoulder, and turned to meet his gaze as he looked her over, a little grin on his lips.

"I'm heading off to school," she announced unnecessarily, giving him a rather awkward one-armed hug which he returned just as awkwardly. Nonetheless, it meant something between the two, and instead of him giving her the gushy last-year-of-high-school speech her mother would have given her, he only managed a 'see ya after school' as she headed out the door for her long-awaited senior year.

Senior year. It was rather hard to process how this was finally her last year of high school, and after this came college. This was really her last first year of school, something she really hadn't processed yet. It all seemed to be going so fast, and she smiled as she stepped into her truck, remembering that very first day of kindergarten, and blocking out some not-so fond memories.

Biology class. The tables were the same color, size, shape, and the teacher was sure to be as dreadfully boring as he was the year before, teaching the same subject that was still just as simple. She would still take notes and answer every question, because she had become known as the 'class pet', the smartest in the class. It suited her, she supposed, and she might just still be getting used to being unrivaled.

It was hard to remember why she had been so excited about this day this morning, and why she had thought it would be any different than it was the year before. Excitedly, the girl in front of her, Jessica Stanley, was filling her in on some gossip around the school, gossip that she had absolutely no interest in. It wasn't that she didn't like Jessica, in fact the two had formed a rather tentative friendship, but the girl just didn't know when to be quiet. It was, to her, extremely obvious that she wasn't listening at all, but obviously not to the black-haired girl who was still talking a mile a minute.

"Hey," came the voice of another, the friendly Mike Newton, "did you hear about the new kid?"

Jessica must have been talking about said new kid, because she was fast to explain she had just been telling her that, giggling. Once she began going on about how hot the new kid was she was zoning out again, her eyes seeing the front of the room, but at the same time, not really seeing.

She wasn't sure when her eyes had fallen back to the desk below her or when she had started randomly doodling in the corners of her notebook, but the sound of her teacher brought her back. She still didn't raise her head up, deciding to skip the usual beginning of the year greeting before the actual lesson 

began. It was those words, however, that name that snapped her head up, made her eyes as wide as saucers, and her heart beating twice as fast.

"Class, I'd like you to welcome Edward Masen. He'll be in this class from now on."

And the only thing going through her mind at that moment was, oh, shit, followed shortly by, he looks like an angel. He had the same reddish-brown hair, the same angel face, but matured, sculpted, perfect. Full lips, a flawlessly angled nose, a squared off, sculpted jaw , and the same endless eyes that reminded her so much of looking into a polished emerald.

Of course, when she realized that the only empty seat was beside her, her thoughts returned to, oh shit.

Isabella Swan had been absolutely certain she would never see Edward Masen ever, ever again. But then again, that summer years ago, he had said something like, one day, they'd probably meet again - and she'd taken it as a challenge. If there was anything she had been sure of it was the fact that she'd never have to see that stupid smile, that soft hair, that perfect face, those beautiful eyes ...

Her next thought was, god damnit, he was right again.

She just couldn't win.