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Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Just love 'em. And use them for fanfiction-y purposes.

A/N: New story? Why, yes it is!

Summary: Bella doesn't actually want a roommate at the age of 17. Especially not a elusive, mysterious, teenage delinquent (allegedly). Yeah, he's pretty, and yeah, okay, he's got nice green eyes, but for some reason, whenever Bella sees him, her mind just goes haywire. She's just not used to being attracted to danger. It's always been the other way around.

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Prologue

I sighed and emptied my pockets. Wads of paper, candy wrappers, a rusty ring I found on the street, a piece of the newspaper, and crumbs came out. I raised my hands up and turned them to show I wasn't hiding anything in my fingers.

She looked tired today. As if she just wanted to give up and let me go fuck up my life by myself. We'd only known each other for two months, and already she was acting like all the other women in my life: fed up. That's what I get for spending time with one for too long, I guess.

She was about to nod and send me out of her room again, but I reached into my back pocket. She froze, her soft brown eyes looking into mine.

I pulled out the tiny, palm-sized, pink, ratty stuffed bear. I placed it in her hands instead of tossing it on the floor with all my other junk. She looked up at me again. I reached into my back pocket again and pulled out a needle, placing it gently next to the stuffed bear.

My eyes felt tenser and drier. I felt like tearing something up, but I took a steady breath in and ripped my eyes away from the bear.

"Edward-" she whispered.

But I had already gathered my crap off the floor and bolted out the door, wiping away the invisible tears I knew were about to fall.

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I didn't bring much with me to Forks.

I usually think of myself as a sentimental sort of guy, but when I was packing my stuff in my rather small, black, beaten-up, leather suitcase, I realized how little I actually needed. Funny how, as part of my punishment, my bank card and wallet were being taken away. As well as my dignity. I wasn't sure, actually, which one mattered to me more at this point, but I didn't feel the least bit pathetic as I packed my scarce items.

I packed clothes. Barely any. But enough to keep me from streaking down the conservative and innocent roads of Forks.

I packed a rubber band ball I've been adding onto since I was 6, a Bible just for kicks, a sharpie, a notebook, and a pack of cigarettes. One pack, because the last thing I needed was to get addicted during exile.

I packed a pancake-sized, white, rickety, old fan that had a handle on the top. Elizabeth used to carry this around with her on those hot Chicago summer days, and I thought it was ironic bringing it to Forks, so I packed it.

I packed a Mickey-Mouse watch I got my first time at Disney Land.

I packed a Dodgers baseball cap. A toothbrush. Toothpaste. A package of saltines. And 25 cents.

I sighed and zipped up the not-so-filled suitcase. It looked frail on my mattress, almost like a grieving monk or a hippie on a hunger strike. Forlorn and desperate.

I took the posters off my wall, scribbled notes I wrote to myself or to other people during class, and drawings Elizabeth drew when she was in the hospital. I took the picture frame off my bedside table, even though it had nothing in it yet. I put it all in a zipper in my bag and gazed at my barren looking room.

So these were the conditions: I was to pass my junior year at Forks High with flying colors and I was to not get into any sort of trouble of any kind.

If, if and only if, I met these conditions would I be allowed to return home to California with Carlisle and Esme, my adopted parents of ten years who came up with this cruel punishment that had me simultaneously tipping my hat off to them and flicking them off.

I sighed and shut my window, abruptly silencing the noises of the happy beach goers on the sidewalk.

I yanked my drawer open and shoved my iPod, phone, and pencil into my pocket. I snatched my coat (a coat Esme specifically bought me for the weather of Forks) off the back of my desk chair and swung it over my shoulder, taking my tiny suitcase off my bed.

I didn't glance back out the window because I knew there would be a part of me tempted to jump and run.

I slammed the door shut as dismal funeral music played in my head. Carlisle and Esme were standing at the bottom of the stairs. Carlisle's face looked blank, but his eyes held a bit of concern and sadness in them. Esme looked like she was going to wring her hands off and tears were already welling in her eyes. They loved me. I know they did. But they were almost as stubborn as I was, and I didn't even biologically inherit their genes.

They didn't want to do this. And the more they knew they didn't want to do this, the more they convinced themselves that they had to do this.

"Is that all you're bringing?" Esme asked, swiping at the moisture around her eyes. I almost laughed. Of course, in the lush and expensive-looking Cullen household, that would be the question asked. Esme used superficial distractions to keep her from losing her cool. Carlisle looked at the floor.

"This is it," I sighed, raising my light weight suitcase with one hand. I walked down the stairs as they watched me in silence, about a million thoughts shooting across their faces. I stood before them, suitcase in one hand, my dignity, flopping around and flimsy, in the other.

Carlisle cleared his throat and looked at Esme, who gave him a desperate look in return. She looked up at me and reached into her pocket. She opened her palm. Inside was a cross on a chain. I almost laughed again.

"It was um, well, I got it at my first communion," she said weakly, "I don't wear it…but hey, maybe you'll go to church in Forks."

She gave me a watery smile and I returned it as best I could. We were supposed to be a Catholic family, but I can't remember the last time we went to church. And I know her gesture was supposed to mean, 'I'm always with you', but I saw it as, 'God help you'.

Either way, I took the necklace, clasped it around my neck and tucked it under my shirt. It wasn't too feminine looking, made out of simple gold. The cross was pretty small, and I took it as a nice gesture on Esme's part.

But I was still going to Forks. And no shiny cross could let me forget that fact.

"Thanks," I mumbled. She gave a weak smile. Carlisle cleared his throat again, signaling it was time for me to depart into hell.

Esme jumped, wrapping her arms around me tightly. I sighed, patting her back in reassurance.

"Be good, okay?" she whispered into my ear, "You can come home quicker."

"I'll miss you, Mom," I offered. She nodded, swiping away real tears this time as Carlisle led me out to the car. I turned my head, seeing her standing at the door. I wished I wasn't so angry. Then I could actually give her a goodbye. But I was angry. And I'm the type to hold grudges.

I sat in the car with Carlisle. I know Esme was waving because Carlisle waved back at her, even if I didn't. I kept my eyes on the windshield. We pulled out of the driveway and I watched my road, my palm trees, my house, my home, and everything else slowly peel by. After we were away from all Esme's dramatics and a few minutes down the road, Carlisle pulled something out of his pocket.

Oh goody. Another farewell gift.

It was a folded up piece of paper.

"And this is?" I prompted, taking it from his hands as he kept his eyes on the road.

"Rules," he said as I cringed at the word. I read the words, written by Carlisle in his all business, no shit handwriting.

Rules

(Remember, Edward, the better you follow these, the quicker you get to come home)

1. No stealing

2. No getting into fights

3. No setting fires

4. No alcohol, no drugs

5. No taking advantage of anyone

6. No taking advantage (ESPECIALLY) of the hospitable people who've graciously agreed to take you in

7. No getting detention for any reason

8. No smart-ass attitude (be a complete gentleman, please?)

9. No setting fires

10. No running away

I had to smile at these. It was like the Ten Commandments. Figures my parents would instill more Catholicism on me once I leave the house. It was also humorous because some of these things I hadn't even done. Carlisle was just making sure everything was covered, I guess.

"I'm serious, Edward," Carlisle sighed, probably at my smirking.

"I know," I said, still grinning, "That's why it's funny."

"Edward-"

"How will you make sure that I abide all of these rules?"

"Charlie Swan. He's chief of police in Forks, and a long time friend. You'll be living at his house and-"

"My host is a police officer?"

"Stop interrupting. Yes, he's the Chief. He's agreed to keep an eye on you and make sure you abide the rules."

I blew out a breath and didn't answer, looking out the window as more pieces of California peeled by. Carlisle kept talking but I was fuming. A police officer. I gritted my teeth and set my jaw. Over the top? Yes. Carlisle was nothing if not thorough.

"-and his daughter, he says, is willing to-"

"Daughter?" I interrupted, catching the last part of his sentence. Carlisle sent me a narrowed-eyed look.

"She's seventeen," Carlisle continued, "A good head on her shoulders too, from what I've heard, and Charlie says that she'll help keep an eye on you."

I pondered this, not quite sure what to think.

"This is punishment, Edward, not vacation. I assume you understand that what you did is not to be considered okay under any circumstances."

He always skirts around the actual 'crime'.

"And you know you could have been sent to juvy if you were caught, so consider this as us taking it easy on you. Going to juvy would taint your future forever, and we know that after you get past this, you do have a good future in front of you."

I didn't answer again. I've heard this lecture more times than I could count.

"You do know that, don't you Edward?"

I kept my streak of silence, crossing my arms and propping my sneakers up on the dashboard. I couldn't believe this. I was going to have a police officer and a girl, a girl my age, all up in my business for the remainder of junior year. Great.

But, really, come on.

A girl?

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Bella

A boy?

"Dad," I began to protest as soon as the words left his mouth, "What kind of thing have you agreed to?"

"Carlisle is a long time friend," Charlie continued, unfazed as he took a sip of beer and a bite of fish off his dinner plate, "And I'd be honored to do him a favor."

"But Dad," I insisted, "This is a teenage boy we're talking about, not some simple errand."

"He's supposed to be on his good behavior," Charlie shrugged, "Apparently there's some deal…"

"Okay, well, what did he do wrong in the first place that had his parents sending him over to Forks?"

"Carlisle didn't say. Apparently it was pretty bad, though."

I wanted to smack my forehead on the table.

"Dad! You realize you've invited a strange, dangerous, criminal teenage boy into the house!"

"You're not in any danger, Bella."

"That's not what I'm worried about! What if he steals our cars or something!?"

"Bella," Charlie scolded, "Don't you think you're being a bit prejudiced? You haven't even met him yet and already-"

"How can you be so calm about this? You're a cop. You've seen what trouble teenage boys in Forks get into, and we're talking about a boy from California."

"Bella," Charlie sighed, "I trust Carlisle, okay?"

I frowned, pushing food around on my plate with my fork and looking down.

"You trust me, don't you, Bells?"

"Yeah," I sighed, "It's the strange teenage boy I don't trust."

Charlie chuckled. I watched him warily as he stood up, taking his plate and my plate with him to the sink.

"Who knows," he mused as he shuffled in the kitchen, swiping off his hands, "Maybe you and him will become friends…"

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Edward

First thoughts:

1. Cold

2. Wet

3. Look, a store with a totem pole in front of it!

4. Misty

5. Suffocation

6. Why is everything looking at me?

My eyes stared out the window as all of Forks closed in on me.

Maybe it's because I'm in a police cruiser…

The cop, my hospitable, gruff looking, and mustache-wearing captor, fiddled with the dials, turning to some oldies' station. The radio was quiet enough that I could hear voices chatter by as we drove through town. Some people looked into the car, probably wondering what young criminal the ol' Chief arrested today. I thought I looked pretty pitiful sitting back there with my arms crossed and a faraway, good-lord-I-wish-I-wasn't-here look. They looked a little scared.

But it wasn't just the people.

It was everything.

They even knew I didn't belong here.

"So, Edward," the cop said, clearing his throat awkwardly, trying to be stiff. I looked up at him with my reserved-for-cops-only look.

"How's the uh…how's the beach in California?"

Beach-y.

"Busy," I responded instead, "And sunny."

"You go there often?"

"Occasionally."

He stopped talking. I had no idea what his intention was. I guess he didn't want to treat me like a criminal…even if I 'was'. Unless he was trying to see if I was suitable enough to stay in the same house as his daughter.

Who, speaking of which, was probably not too pleased with her father obtaining a delinquent. We'd probably keep our distance. Not speaking much. She'd stay out of my way, me out of hers, and everything will be just-

Wait!

I don't have a car to drive!

"Chief Swan," I asked as he perked up, looking at me through the rearview mirror, "How far is school from your house?"

"A few miles I think," he guessed, shrugging, "Why?"

"Am I taking a school bus, then?"

"Not sure yet, actually. Hm…we'll have to figure that out later."

Car. I missed mine. The only other thing I wished I could pack in my suitcase.

I shifted and heard the piece of paper with the rules on them crinkle in my pocket. I ground my teeth. They'd be following me everywhere for the next few months.

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Bella

Yes, I saw the cruiser pull up into the driveway.

Yes, I made sure all my valuables were shoved in my drawers under my clothes.

Yes, I fidgeted and wore my baggiest sweatshirt just in case the kid was some kind of rapist.

Yes, I felt awful about doing all of this, but…

Ugh. Since when did Charlie become so hospitable? He didn't even let me keep that stray dog I found, but he'll bring in a criminal?

This Carlisle better be pretty important to him.

I shoved the curtain closed once I saw Charlie step out. I don't think I could bear seeing how scary this kid looked. I started getting nervous, wiping my hands on my jeans. I began freaking out when I realized I'd chosen particularly form-fitting ones.

Stupid! Bella! Okay, well maybe you can go change or-

I saw the doorknob turn and I jumped. I stared at it blankly before remembering Charlie told me to open it for him in case he was carrying suitcases. I shook my trembling hands and rushed, tripping a little, to go open the door.

Charlie walked in with…no suitcases?

He smiled at me reassuringly and stepped to the side a little.

Oh good God…

The kid was gorgeous. That's an understatement, actually. I felt my heart pound erratically as his beautiful green eyes met mine.

He wore a fading grey t-shirt and beaten-up jeans with holes. His sneakers were equally beaten-up and he wore green boxers that poked out above his dark leather belt. His hair was messy and a beautiful something-like-coppery-bronze color that reminded me oddly of sunlight and honey. He had a small, fading scar on his left side of his face that went from his temple to the top of his cheekbone.

He looked like danger.

Smelled like danger.

Gave off all signs of danger.

But danger never looked so inviting.

I realized neither of us had said anything and Charlie must have taken that as a bad sign because he cleared his throat awkwardly and deep green eyes left mine.

"Bella, this is Edward," Charlie said, smiling warily at me, "Edward, this is my daughter, Bella."

"Hi," Edward said, his voice sending foreign chills down my spine. He stuck out his hand and I shook it, finally finding my voice.

"Hi," I responded back, reminding myself that he was bad news. We didn't exactly smile at each other, but we weren't particularly unfriendly.

Charlie saw that as okay.

"Here, Edward," he said with a relieved sigh, "I'll show you to your room."

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Edward

Okay, so I did give her a few once-overs. God, why didn't anyone tell me she was so beautiful? She practically radiated innocence and kindness and warmth. I knew I was now curious enough to at least talk to her.

I had a strange stomach ache. Probably the kind the cat had before it died.

I didn't look back at Bella as the cop led me up the stairs. He showed me the bathroom, which apparently all three of us will share (wonderful. That's just wonderful). He showed me where his and Bella's rooms were, just in case I needed them for anything of course, and then he showed me my room.

It was right across from Bella's and had a view of the street and the houses on the other side. The mattress was neat-looking and the room was plain. I put my suitcase down at the foot of the bed and looked around. There was a set of drawers, a small closet, and thin curtains. So this is what my jail cell looks like.

Eh. I could've done worse.

"Bed sheets and comforters are in the drawers," the cop said, pointing to the set of drawers, "Bella's making dinner, so just holler if you need anything."

"No shouting, either," Carlisle had said as his farewell words to me at the airport, "I have eyes in Forks and I will be watching you."

No hollering, then. Whatever. It takes like two steps to get downstairs anyway.

I took the rules out of my pocket and found the roll of tape masking tape I packed with my socks.

I taped the rules on the wall above the set of drawers. Wind fluttered in from the slightly-open window, making the paper shake, but I smiled in a weird sort of way.

So begins the countdown to freedom.

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A spin on all those 'Edward-for-some-reason-stays-in-same-house-as-Bella-and-they-fall-in-love' stories. Tell me watcha think. I got a bit of a busy schedule nowadays, so if I a get more 'don't likes' than I do 'yes likes', I might pull the story off.

But such is life. Let's not talk of miserable things.

Oh, and as always, things will be explained. Further. Hopefully. Maybe. It's also T for today. M for mmmmmmmsoonifIsweartoomuch/mmmmpossiblelemons

Review! Don't make me become the grabby, beggy, needy review whore (even if I am….)

p.s sorry this is such a long author's note, but just wanted to tell you, if you are a Maria reader, that the epilogue and sequel be on the way!