A/N I own nothing, all praise Stephenie Meyer the goddess of all. Edward Cullen, however, does own me. And Jasper has a timeshare.

To be clear - I REALLY REALLY do not condone drug use, smoking or underage drinking in any form. Edward and Jasper made me do it, blame them. If you have a problems with any of these things then PLEASE STOP READING NOW.

DOUBLE WARNING: if you don't like reading fics with alcohol, drugs and underage sex then remove yourself to a more fluffy climate. You have been warned. For those of your still game...I hope I don't disappoint ;)

Final note - I'm English, so my spelling is mostly leaning that way. If the 'z's for 's's get too much, I apologise.

CHAPTER ONE

EPOV

Jasper leaned forward, flicking the Zippo in a practiced motion as his lit the joint in my hand alight. I leaned back on the wall beside his house, bracing my arm against the stone as I pulled the sweet, heady smoke into my lungs.

"New girl's arriving today."

I grunted, unexcited. The new shiny toy of Forks was bound to be the next level in boredom. No doubt half the town would be giddy over the possibility of new tail, but the novelty had long worn off for me. Fuck, I couldn't wait to escape this hell hole and move to Seattle.

Jasper took a deep draw, eyes narrowed against the thick smoke. "Police chief's daughter. She went to elementary here, now she's back."

My interest prickled. "Chief Swan's kid?"

Jasper nodded.

I stole the joint from him and took another drag. "Bella, right?"

Jasper just shrugged, uninterested.

Bella Swan. I let my mind wander over her as I idly drew on the joint. The last memory I had of her was when she threw my cake into the grass at my eighth birthday party and told me not to be such a 'poopy face' after I had pushed her into the dirt. I smirked, recalling how I always loved pushing her into the mud.

But, for now I kept my tone neutral. "So how's she looking?"

Jasper just shrugged again, meriting a snort from me. Ever since my sister Alice had snared him he'd turned from smooth-rolling wingman into pussy-wipped doormat. If it was anyone other than my sister I'd have dragged him to the peepers to get laid by now.

"Whatever, they're all the same anyways." They always were.

The dawn chorus interrupted us, a blissful chirping that in other circumstances would have been peaceful, but right now all it did was exacerbate the hangover from the night before. I flinched and snatched the joint back from Jasper, relishing the buzz.

Jasper eventually spoke. "So, did you hook up with Mallory again last night?"

I merely smirked and rolled my eyes. "A gentleman never tells." Even though Lauren was certainly no lady, I still had my rules.

Jasper snorted at that, knowing I was definitely no gentleman. Yet I kept my conquests private, always refusing to divulge even in the testosterone-fueled high of the locker room. Part of it was the lingering words of Esme that privacy is the last bastion of good manners, but the main motivation is that I get more tail when secrecy is guaranteed.

I pinched the roach between my fingers, inhaling deeply, speaking gruffly with the smoke still percolating in my lungs, "So where's your pixie bitch this morning?"

Jasper lashed out instantly, the thump to my chest making me choke on the smoke and see spots behind my eyes. Fuck! I spluttered and coughed, managing to spit out, "What the fuck, Jazz?!"

He glowered at me. "First off, don't ever refer to my lady as a 'bitch'. Secondly, show more fucking respect to your sister."

I scoffed. "She might be your bitch, but she's not my sister." Not entirely true, but giving Alice a hard time had become force of habit now. Plus, I loved pissing everyone off.

Jasper glared at me, but didn't reply. He knew by now my reaction to the foster kids my step-father Carlisle had dragged into our home.

Huh. His home.

Motherfucker.

Literally.

I shuddered. The thought made me sick.

I took the last drag and tossed it into the bushes, Jasper burying it with the heel of his boot. Wordlessly, we climbed into his Camaro and he started the engine. He didn't push her into drive yet, and I waited patiently, knowing he had his piece to say. Eventually he coughed up.

"She might not be your sister by blood, but she's a good girl and deserves some fucking compassion, Cullen. Besides, your dad's adopting her and so you need to suck it up already."

I wanted to scoff, to smirk, to tell him he was a dip-shit and my soon-to-be-adopted sister was a whore, but I dug my fingernails into my thigh and resisted. Jasper waited a moment, tensed for my retaliation, then relaxed with a slight smile when I said nothing and drove towards school.

Senior year, Forks High. Whoop-de-fucking-da. Here we come...

~ * ~

It was only when we pulled into the empty parking lot that I checked my watch and realised how early we were. I glanced at Jasper, confused, then I saw the canary-yellow Porsche at the end of the lot and the dancing pixie running towards us. Rolling my eyes I waved Jasper out of the car, deliberately averting my eyes as he took the saliva aspect of fair trade to a whole new level. Ew.

I perched on the bonnet of Jasper's Camaro and lit a cigarette, ignoring the obnoxious slurping noises behind me. Thanks, Jazz, way to go in encouraging accepting the foster-kid pixie-wench into the family. I shuddered.

Fucking asshole.

The deep chug hic chug of an engine seriously in need of some TLC dragged me from my reverie, screaming Won't Get Fooled Again by The Who out of the windows. I watched as a beat-up Chevrolet truck pulled into the parking lot at the other end from where we parked, a rusty orange-red colour and decorated with far too many dents to claim as modern art. I laughed softly, wondering if Newton's parents had finally taken away his Suburban and stuck him in this monstrosity as punishment for his pathological perving on the freshman.

To my surprise a skinny brunette clambered from the cab. I tilted my head, drawing deeply from my cigarette. I'd never expected a chick to drive a truck like that - in all honesty, I was amazed she managed to climb down without breaking a nail. Sniggering to myself at that thought I watched with fascination as she skipped into the bed of her truck and narrowly missed splitting her head open on the edge, before she began rooting around in her bag.

I glanced behind me just long enough to see the tonsil twins were still fully occupied - suppressing a shudder at the brief glimpse - then slid off the hood of the Camaro and watched the truck-loving brunette. She was fiddling in her backpack for something, her face hidden from view. I moved closer, wondering why I even cared but equally as determined to find out what this chick who listened to The Who was up to.

I heard a low snick! snick! snick!, the characteristic blaze of flint against metal, and saw the orange glow of a cigarette. I half-smiled, for once appreciating the bizarre solidarity that existed among smokers - the community bravado that came from our refusal to join the cowards who were afraid of cancer. I moved towards her, mentally preparing the first lines that would introduce me to her pants.

The ever-so-distinctive sweet scent stopped me dry about ten foot away from her. I inhaled the bewitching scent of marijuana and appraised Chevy-girl with a new eye. She'd noticed me by now, arching a brow at me challengingly while inhaling deeply on the spliff between her fingers.

As I watched, the harsh drumbeat of The Who gave way to Tin Pan Alley by Steve Ray Vaughan. In all honesty the variety startled me, and I was vaguely aware of Jasper breaking his lip-lock with my sister at the other end of the parking lot to listen. He was always a sucker for Stevie Vaughan.

Cautiously now, I approached her. She was swinging her legs alongside the truckbed to the beat of Tin Pan Alley, her head dipping side-to-side with the beat, but I knew she was watching me.

She was exquisite.

I'd lived here my whole life with Emmett and my mom and - urgh - the evil step-dad, Carlisle. I hated small-town life, hated the small-minded mentality it bred. I drank and smoked and fucked and avoided...and here this skinny mousy-haired chick was making me shift about like a choir boy at a strip joint.

She watched me openly, deep brown eyes scrutinising me like she could read every whisper crossing my brain. The music switched to Cherry Pie by Warrant and I nearly jumped her right then.

She's my cherry pie

Cool drink of water

Such a sweet surprise

I approached her, plastering my characteristic panty-dropping smirk across my lips. It never failed. Yet she just stared at me, raised brow, crossing her legs and smoking her joint as if to say, yeah, so what?

I was astounded, literally lost. Flirting was a foreign concept to me - I'd never needed it. I was dimly aware that across the car park Jasper had torn his lips away from my sister and they were both staring at me, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

She blew out a smoke ring, never losing eye-contact. "So are you ever going to speak, or are you just going to drool over my truck and CD collection all day?"

I spluttered a little, hiding it as best I could, but I knew by her knowing smirk that she made me. I desperately gathered my cool to speak, but still couldn't find the words.

She stared at me for an endless minute, pinning me with her gaze. I felt naked, attacked, stripped by her knowing eyes and slapped down to the pavement. It was as if my tongue had been stolen and stapled to the spirit flag.

Eventually she spoke, low, melodic and throaty. "Want a drag?"

I just nodded, like a dumb freshman offered his first cigarette. She giggled to herself and skipped down from the truck, stumbling a little but catching herself on the lip of the truck with practiced ease. She handed the spliff to me and all she said was, "Go ahead."

So I did. It was dark and deep and harsh. It took everything I had not to cough across the asphalt like an amateur. She watched me mercilessly, waiting for me to trip up. When I succeeded without a single splutter and handed the bud back to her she had a look of grudging respect on her face.

"I must say I'm surprised. I wasn't expecting Forks boys to cope with Jack Herrers so easily. What's your name?"

I was distantly aware the situation had been somehow reversed. She should have stuttered her way through study hall, blushed when I approached her and then offered her name shyly while I twisted her in knots and sauntered away. Instead, I was gawping and blushing at her and wondering what colour underwear she wore.

I recovered quickly, and shot the crooked grin at her that had melted the virginity of half the girls in the district. I was Edward Fucking Cullen and would not be flustered, no matter how good this bitch's musical taste was.

I reached out and grasped her hand, applying just enough force to make her flutter. I saw her eyes dilate and smirked in satisfaction.

"I'm Edward Cullen, and I'm semi-speechless as I wonder where the hell you've been all my life."

She smiled and leaned towards me, smelling of summer flowers and strawberries and smoke. I swear I heard her let out a soft moan when she inhaled my scent, and I smirked with cocky confidence. This was a given. She'd be eating out of the palm of my hand by lunchtime.

"Hey Edward, I'm Bella," she murmured, brushing against me and sending a thrill down my whole body. Then she smirked evilly, answering my earlier question, "Where have I been your whole life? That's easy."

She chuckled, took a last drag on the joint and tossed it into the underbrush.

"Avoiding you. See you around, stud."

~ * ~

A/N So....what do you think? I already have two stories on the go, but if I get enough interest I'll continue this one. Let me know!