The "Awkward" Contest

Story Title: Cinnamon Bread and Awkward Head

Pen name: VampiresHaveLaws

Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight and all it's characters.

To see other entries in the "AwkWard" contest, please visit the C2:
community/AwkWard_Contest/78356/

A/N: Huge thank you to my betas SusanQ and Sobriquett for all their help. They are amazing.

I checked my pockets for the third time just to make sure I had all my necessities. Watch? Check. Bus pass? Check. Gum? Check. Milk money? Double check. I had a feeling I would get thirsty today, and milk was so very good for you. Full of calcium to help your bones grow strong, not to mention give you a great set of pearly whites. I had become quite passionate about that subject and made sure I had my required daily amount.

I had just gotten my braces removed last month and reveled in the smooth feel of my teeth without the unwanted metal in my mouth. It was quite unfortunate how many times I would get food stuck in the front, not to mention gum. That had always been a big no-no for me, but now I popped like the best of them. Each time I went to the store I would stare at all the different varieties and flavours, not really fully knowing why I did this, as I always chose the mint brand to give you that fresh-breath feeling. I also always made sure it was of the sugar free nature. You just couldn't be too careful nowadays. Sugar was not a friend to your teeth, and that falsely delicious tasting strawberry flavour was the the devil. I was always extra proud of myself when I avoided that alluring temptation.

The girl behind the counter at the local store was constantly chewing it, twirling her finger around her hair in rapid spiral movements while using her free hand to turn the pages of whichever magazine she happened to be reading that day. The last time I happened to covertly glance at what she was scanning left me red-faced and slightly uncomfortable in the trouser region. She was staring at a pair of breasts, albeit they were covered in a lace bra, but still, it was breasts. I had pondered whether she was in fact a lesbian, which didn't help my problem in the slightest. Needless to say, I kept my eyes firmly on her face after that incident.

I glanced in the mirror and ran my hand through my wayward hair, attempting to try and get it into some form of order. I had always liked things neat and tidy, everything to be in its place, but my hair never cooperated. It rebelled against me, almost as if it was taunting me, knowing I'd never be able to force it to my will. If I knew my mother wouldn't cry as if she'd just lost a loved one, I would have cut it a lot shorter than I had it now.

I lived with my parents, Esme and Carlisle, and my older brother Emmett. My mother worked at the local bakery in town, her speciality was her cinnamon bread - it was delicious. My father was a doctor, he enjoyed helping people and flirted cheekily with all the nurses who followed him around like lost lambs. Emmett was in his last year of school and had a part-time job as a pool cleaner. I had always found it an odd sort of thing to want to do; clean other people's pools, but he was adamant to take the job and his schedule was always full. I soon found out that the majority of people who owned a pool in this neighbourhood were women... divorced women... divorced women of a certain age, to be precise. I'd once heard him talking on the phone to his friend Felix about Mrs. Stanley's new boob job. He said she'd practically shoved his head down her new cleavage when she'd bent down to give him a plate of sandwiches. Mrs. Stanley had been divorced for a few years now, and was known as a cougar by many of the town folk. I also considered her annoying, and sometimes frightening daughter Jessica, to be of the same making as her mother. After all, she was five months older than me and had chased me for a period. True, we were only in kindergarten at the time, but she would constantly run after me - always trying to kiss me. I was still on the alert in case she ever decided to go back to those wanton ways.

You know those signs that people put outside their homes if they believe to have a dangerous dog on their grounds - the word "Beware" always clearly displayed in big, bold lettering? Yeah, well one of those signs should definitely be displayed outside the Stanley household.

With one last failed attempt at straightening out my hair, I descended the stairs, taking each step one at a time, and watching my feet closely. I was known to be clumsy. If there was an icy pathway I would slip; if there was a flight of stairs I would fall; and if I happened to be taking a mouthful of ice tea in a classy restaurant when a rather attractive waitress went past, I would smile and forget to swallow, creating a waterfall down my face. True story. There was also the time I had been playing a game of table tennis with Em and had accidentally hit his then-girlfriend in the ass with my paddle as she walked past. I had been attempting to take a swing, and it just happened. Needless to say, after that day she would constantly give me the stink eye. I was rather relieved when Em had finally dumped her for Rosalie Hale... well that was until I slipped on the wet tiles surrounding our indoor pool last month and had propelled her into the water just hours after she'd gotten her hair done. Her blonde locks had been green for weeks. The glare she still shot me made my balls try and climb inside me and ask for a permanent vacation.

"Morning, sweetie," my mother chimed, bustling away as per usual in her floral patterned apron as I entered the kitchen. "Your lunch is already made me for you. Brown paper bag on the table." She smiled. I took a peak inside and noted with gratitude that she had made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, no crusts. I had taken a packed lunch to school for a while now. The meals they served in the cafeteria were disgusting and were always swimming in grease. Also, everything seemed to be covered in cheese. You had your cheeseburgers, cheese pizza, cheese-fries, cheese quiche and not forgetting your cheese cake. It wouldn't surprise me if the school had an outbreak of mice.

I pulled my watch out my pocket, making sure that I had enough time to grab a drink before the bus arrived. I knew it was a little odd to keep your watch in your pocket, but I hated stuff on my wrists. Also, I once saw a kid get beat up in Port Angeles for his, and figured if they couldn't see it, then I wouldn't be a target for theft.

After I had quickly downed my glass of apple juice I went to give my mother a kiss on the cheek, but missed completely and ended up pressing my lips to her ear instead, the sound of my lips smacking together making her jump and covering us both in the cinnamon that she was using to dust over her bread. Thankfully only a little landed on me, so I could easily brush it off the sleeve of my shirt. My mother on the other hand would without doubt have to go wash her face. She looked as if she'd just come back from a hot destination with a very odd looking tan, or that she'd had a disastrous turn on a sun bed. Either way it was not good.

"I'm so sorry, Mom I..." she held up her hand with an amused smile on her face, quite used to my ungainly behaviour.

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart," she chuckled, "any way, you better get going or you'll miss your bus." I nodded gratefully, swinging my bag onto my back and knocking over the pile of letters on the sideboard. I closed my eyes and sighed as my mother pushed me towards the front door, mentally chastising myself the whole way. I gave her an apologetic smile before grasping both of my bag straps that were situated on my shoulders and started jogging at a steady pace... well that was until the bus pulled up outside the stop that I had yet to reach. I increased my speed, my eyes trained on the bright yellow paint of the vehicle ahead, praying that it wouldn't leave without me. I breathed a sigh of relief as I managed to pull myself up on the step just as the doors were wheezing shut. However, the doors also decided to carry on closing, effectively trapping me. My body was safe on the inside, yet my bag was still on the outside. I was mortified.

Whispers and giggles permitted the space, the driver giving me a stern look as she had to get out of her seat to resolve the problem.

"I'm really sorry," I blurted, completely embarrassed. You saw this type of thing occurring in movies all the time. I just never thought it was even possible, let alone would happen to me. She huffed at me before telling me to swiftly find a seat, not even bothering to ask to see my pass. I walked down the aisle, ignoring the sniggers, and settled myself into my normal space. I popped a piece of mint gum in my mouth and closed my eyes at the familiar sensation.

I hated riding the bus, but at this point in time it was necessary to use. My parents had the money to buy me a car, and I had my license, but my father was a great believer in working for your possessions, especially something as extravagant as a car. He promised that if I could come up with a small chunk of the asking price of the silver Volvo I had my eye on, then he would fork out the rest. That is how I found myself helping out at the reception desk of the hospital every Wednesday afternoon and Saturday morning. I actually didn't mind it. The ladies who worked there were sweet and fed me cookies most of the day. I always left there feeling like a contented cat who had been snuggled up in its favourite chair by the warmth of the radiator for a few hours.

The one thing - or should I say person - who made this journey to school bearable was the girl who sat in the seat opposite me. Isabella Swan, or Bella to just her friends. She had been riding the bus for the past few months now after her old truck had finally broken down. The thing was ancient, and I was surprised it had lasted as long as it had. She'd moved here last semester and was currently living with her father who worked at the local police station. He had reprimanded me years back for "flashing my goods in an inappropriate place." I of course had done no such thing, but Emmett thought it would be funny to pull down my trousers in front of old Mrs. Cope who worked at the local library. I was only eight at the time, and had tripped over my shoelace when running away from him, only to land in front of the Chief in the thriller section with my trousers still down around my ankles. Apparently he had been a fan of Edgar Allan Poe.

I still got embarrassed every time I would see him about town.

I saw Isabella move out the corner of my eye, gaining my attention once more. She had the prettiest hair I had ever seen. It was a deep brown that showed off its red tones in the sun light. I had first noticed this during a biology trip we had been required to attend at the beginning of the semester. We had all been gathered in a meadow full of wild flowers to examine the different types of wildlife and insects that lived in the area, the small bugs flittering about our heads creating a musical buzz in the background. I, myself, was only concentrating on the shades of her hair. I would have much rather written my follow up report on that instead of the animal paw print I had found imprinted in the damp soil. I had been pretty sure it had belonged to a wolf and remembered being momentarily worried for our safety. I had been both pleased and horrified that I had been carrying snacks at the time, not knowing whether this would increase an attack on myself, or distract the animal long enough to make an escape. In the end, I was simply glad I hadn't had to worry about it further.

She was wearing her favourite leather jacket today that always seemed to smell like lilacs. Such a contrast to the dark and creased material itself. I had never once spoken to her on the journeys to and from school. She would at all times have her headphones in, listening to music while reading a battered copy of East of Eden. I constantly found myself wanting to tap her on the shoulder and ask her who her favourite artists were, or what she thought of the evil character Cathy in the book, but the fear of accidentally poking her in the eye by mistake, or something else of that effect, managed to prevent me from doing so. She was also a cinnamon gum chewer, not mint or strawberry, but cinnamon. It was perfect. She was perfect.

At that moment, the bus jolted, my body flying forward into the headrest in front of me without warning. I pulled back, grasping my face in my hands, squinting against the throbbing pain in my nose. I was sure I probably resembled Rudolph right now.

I opened my watery eyes to see the very book I had just been thinking about lying at my feet, its tattered edges rustling from the slight breeze that was sailing in through the half open window. I reached down, intending to pick it up, but suddenly there she was, bending down in front of me and giving me an amazing view of her breasts. I could see Eric Yorkie spying on her from behind his comic book, his beady eyes feasting on her exposed flesh, the urge to punch him in his acne riddled face growing stronger with each second he continued to stare. As if she could hear my thoughts she suddenly looked up at me with those beautiful doe eyes of hers, the chocolate shade making me hungry to taste her skin. I wonder if she tastes as sweet? Her eyebrow arched in a silent question, obviously waiting for some form of verbal admission. Damn - she had totally just caught me staring down her top. I opened and closed my mouth, doing an Oscar worthy impression of a fish, before looking away nervously. What was wrong with me? My mouth was dry and the rocking motion of the bus wasn't helping with the nausea I was abruptly sensing in the pit of my stomach. I suddenly wished I had my own comic book to hide behind. My eyes were still so watery that she probably thought I was weeping over the sight of her cleavage, and that my nose got weirdly red when my body got excited in the southern regions. I chanced a glance sideways and immediately sighed in relief to see her back in her seat, a small smile playing around her perfect red lips.

I pulled my bag closer towards me, almost as if it could act as some form of security blanket, and stared at the passing scenery through the window. I didn't think I was ugly - I mean, I had been blessed with clear skin and a workable brain. I was just unsure around the opposite sex. I'd had two previous girlfriends in my seventeen years, but they'd never lasted longer than a few weeks. The fact that I'd had to wear a brace for the past two years didn't exactly have any more willing participants lining up for me either. I also think my clumsiness embarrassed them. Girls all seemed to like my physique, however, or so the odd drunken stranger would tell me when trying to grind all over my junk at random parties Emmett had dragged me to in the past. The last time I found myself in one of those situations, I had "arrived" just as the girl's mother had returned home unexpectedly and barged in on us. I had been staring in awe at the first pair of naked breasts I had ever seen that weren't displayed in a magazine. The memory would always be just that little bit tainted. I didn't even get a chance to use the bathroom to clean up before I had bolted. I had to walk all the way back home with a sticky mess in my trousers, constantly repeating to myself that it was a good job I was part of the school's swim team. It was the only sport I could actually partake in without causing harm to others. It kept me fit and I liked the competition aspect of it.

The bus pulled up outside the school, my best friend Mike chatting up a bunch of familiar-looking girls in the parking lot as per usual. He had lost his virginity last year and had been "love cave" frenzied ever since. I swallowed the lump in my throat, quickly glancing to my right before pulling my bag over my shoulder and stepping out into the aisle. I paused to allow Isabella to move out in front of me, hoping to show her I wasn't just a pervert who wanted to shamelessly ogle her ass as she walked ahead of me, but that I actually had manners. She didn't acknowledge me however, most likely thinking I was simply loitering. I followed the queue of students off the vehicle, trying really hard not to stare at those flawless cheeks. Needless to say, I didn't succeed. Some idiot decided then to cut in front of me, effectively blocking off my enticing view. It was probably for the best anyway, walking around school with a boner all morning would be rather excruciating, not to mention exceedingly humiliating.

"Yo, Ed man!" I raised my head at the call of my name, trying to see who had been shouting at me. I wasn't watching my footing like I knew I should have been, ending up completely misjudging the step that lead off the bus, and found myself flying forward into the group of girls Mike had been talking to only seconds before. Oh god no.

They went down like a stack of dominos.

"Are you okay?" I asked the nearest girl to me, holding out my hand to help her to her feet. I think her name was Jane, but I wasn't certain. She was popping that strawberry gum.

"Does it look like I'm okay?" she huffed, looking down at her once clean shirt that was now covered in yoghurt. I glanced anxiously towards her less than impressed friend who had been having the late breakfast. Had being the operative word. I was flustered and didn't know what to do, my hand automatically shooting out without conscious thought to try and wipe some of the offending mess off of her pale pink coloured clothing.

That hadn't helped matters in the slightest.

I belatedly realized that the majority of yoghurt happened to be located on and around her chest, and that I was now practically groping the poor unsuspecting girl. My eyes widened as I looked at my palm still molded around her boob. My cheeks lit on fire as I swiftly removed my hand, my feet shifting awkwardly as I willed the ground to open up and swallow me whole. I ran my hand through my hair and cringed when I realized that it was covered in the yoghurt. I then made the mistake of swinging my panicked eyes to the left of me, where none other than Isabella was standing watching me, her best friend Jasper smirking at me in amusement. I should have hated him on that principal alone. He had latched onto Bella as soon as she'd arrived in Forks, and now they were pretty much inseparable. He was tanned skin, blond locks and southern charm. I couldn't help but wonder if they were dating. And if I didn't already have enough reason to be green with envy when it came to that guy, he just oozed cool. It was truly sickening.

"I'm just going to...go," I breathed, keeping my eyes focused on the ground beneath my feet as I moved, resisting the urge to shove my hands in my jeans pockets. I made sure to hold them out a small distance in front of me, being extra careful not to touch anything until I could get to the bathroom and clean up. The last thing I would want right then would have been to get suspicious white stains on the front of my trousers. Yeah, that wouldn't draw attention at all.

I pushed open the door to the bathroom with my foot, walking over to the sinks and taking a much needed calming breath. I couldn't believe that had just happened to me...well I could, but still...she had been watching, and more than likely saw everything. There was no doubt left in my mind that she most definitely thought me a creepy pervert. First, she catches me gawking at her mounds, then she actually sees my groping someone else's. It must have been similar to watching a kid in a sweet store, grabbing on to anything that took their fancy. I shook my head and turned on the tap, cringing at my reflection in the mirror when I saw the yoghurt stuck in my hair. It looked like I just got pooped on my a flock of fly-by birds. I angrily shoved my hands under the tepid water, way too fast on my part, and ended up shooting a stream of it right towards my crotch.

It looked as if I'd just wet myself.

"No, no, no," I half mumbled, half cried, staring at the front of my jeans in exasperation. I'd had some bad days in this past, but this was just ridiculous. My eyes frantically scanned the bathroom, looking for one of those hot air dryers, thinking that maybe if I angled the thing just so, I would be able to dry the majority of the material. Needless to say, there wasn't one in sight. I would have to use the paper towels as best I could.

I walked over and pulled a handful from the dispenser, turned my back to the door, and started wiping over the patch, hoping it would help. I managed to soak a little of the dampness from my jeans, but it was still noticeable. I grabbed another handful and started rubbing more vigorously, getting completely frustrated at the lack of change. I was groaning and irritably murmuring to myself with my back still to the door when I heard someone enter. I looked over my shoulder, confused as to why he would be staring at me like that. Then I realized what it had probably just looked like to him.

"Ill...err...I'll leave you to finish," he mumbled hastily, his eyes focusing on anything other than me.

"No, it's really not what it looks like," I blurted, swinging around to prove my point. Of course this just made him shield his hand over his eyes, obviously not believing my words.

"Dude, it's cool. When you gotta yank the chain, you just gotta." He rushed out of the room, the door swinging shut behind him, leaving me standing there like a pale and sweaty statue. Jesus Christ on a pogo-stick. Did that seriously just happen? I took a look at my sweaty palms still clutching the paper towel. Yes. Yes it did. Oh fuck my life. At least I could breathe a sigh of relief knowing he wouldn't be inclined to go around spreading that titbit of information. No one wants to admit to seeing another dude's penis - or a water splashed crotch in this case - let alone a seventeen year old boy. Orientation rumours would spread like wildfire, distributing their zealous flames to the next branch that happened to be eagerly rustling nearby. By the end of the day he would have gained the nickname, "Nancy" and been accused of waxing. Kids are cruel.

I dumped my bag on the ground, surprised to still find it on my shoulders. I bet that guy thought I kept porn in it or something. I turned on the tap, bent down so that my head was hovering over the sink, and slowly cupped my hands under the stream. I rinsed the yoghurt from my locks without actually seeing what I was doing. I really didn't want to soak myself any more than I already had, so prayed that it kept to my hair only. I tamed the strands as best as could be done in such circumstances, before I grabbed my belongings and made my way to class.

The hallways were buzzing with movement and voices, people bumping into each other in their haste. I was garnering quite a few curious stares as I hurried past, my hands clasped tightly together in front of my junk. Yes, that's right everyone, I am praying to my penis. Carry on with the staring, it blesses you all. Bella filtered into my line of vision, entering the very same classroom I was headed to myself. Yes, it would definitely like to bless her especially. I groaned and rubbed a hand over my day-old stubble. I truly was becoming a sick pervert.

Bella and I were seating partners in English. She was so incredibly smart, and you could tell from the way she always focused entirely on the lesson that she genuinely loved to read. We hardly ever spoke, me being far too on edge due to her nearness, and her probably not even noticing I existed.

I entered the room, catching my foot on someone's discarded bag, but thankfully not falling and causing myself an injury. I blushed and apologized to the girl whose table I was gripping onto with dear life, trying not to bring her workbooks with me as I moved back into a standing position. It probably looked as if I'd been trying to mount the wooden piece of furniture. So yes, apparently it wasn't just Bella that got me excited any more, but also oak. I rolled my eyes.

I slid wordlessly into my seat, the scent of lilacs drifting my way and instantly comforting me. I could feel the heat from her body assaulting my own, her chair seeming closer to me today. What ultimately surprised me the most was the direction of her gaze. Instead of looking ahead as she usually did, I could feel her eyes on me. I gulped as I took my books out of my bag, my left knee bouncing rapidly. I didn't know what to do. Did I look back at her? Ignore her? Tell her she smells divine and has perfect breasts? Her watching me was making me feel extremely light headed. Whatever you do, don't puke.

Taking a deep, albeit shaky breath, I titled my head towards her, my eyes finally falling on her exquisite features. What I saw gazing back at me was very nearly my undoing.

She had a pencil resting in her mouth, her head cocked to the side as if regarding me. She then started running the end unconsciously over that full bottom lip, my eyes following the movement. I was in a god damn trance, I swear. I could see her tongue, pink perfection, behind those sinful lips. I wanted it in my mouth and on my skin. It didn't take long for the hormones to take charge and imagine something other than a pencil in her mouth. I swore I could see a hint of a smile fighting to break out across her face, but then she did something that caused me to groan out loud and jump slightly in my seat. She pressed her teeth together and bit the end of the lead filled implement.

The teacher chose that second to walk into the room, thankfully saving me from what was bound to have been an uncomfortable moment. The rest of the hour felt like I was trapped in a sauna. I was so warm. I sensed every time she would momentarily look my way, reacted every time she moved. It was the most exquisite torture.

When the bell finally rang, I packed up my things, not daring to look at her. She was putting her own things away rather slowly. I had started to sweat. She was going to say something, I just knew it. I froze when I felt her pause by my side, her breath tickling the skin of my neck, goosebumps revealing themselves instantly.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked, her voice easy and confident. I was physically shaking, my eyes bugging out of my head. Why would she want to know this? I knew I'd have to answer her, it would be rude not to. I hummed the Rocky theme in my head and turned to face her. My god she was beautiful.

"No, I don't have a girlfriend," I croaked out, internally wincing at the sound. She did that whole head to the side deal she'd been doing earlier, only this time she was smiling.

"Sorry, I just thought after what I saw this morning, that maybe you were with that girl," she shrugged. Her hands dug through her pockets, pulling out her cinnamon gum, placing a stick in her wanting mouth. The scent was mouthwatering.

Heat flooded my cheeks and I spoke the first thing that popped into my head. "I smell like cinnamon. Smell me," my arm flung out towards her face without my permission, leaving it there for her to sniff. I had never been one to cry, even during the most tear-jerking movies, but the sudden urge to weep was so very strong I thought I would never be able to stop. I would end up owning shares in Kleenex.

I silently cursed the loaf of bread that Esme had been baking this morning, not to mention myself for being such a klutz. The words "fuck" and "idiot" were playing on repeat in my head, a hidden mantra.

Her laughing in my face was imminent.

My face paled, and just as my brain kicked in to allow me to lower my arm, she grabbed my sleeve, halting my progress. I watched on in open-mouthed surprise as she licked her lips, leaned forward, and inhaled. She hadn't laughed at me.

"So you do," she replied with an amused expression before swaying past me to walk out the door. I wanted to get on my knees and thank god, my mother, lilac flowers and Reese's peanut butter cups. I mean who wouldn't? They're amazing.

I followed Isabella's example and made my way to my next class. It was biology and I had Sam Uley as a lab partner. He liked to blow stuff up - and the majority of the time I'd just let him. He was like the Michelin man with explosives, I wouldn't be telling him what to do in the near future. Or ever in fact.

The day went by quickly, or it may have seemed that way due to my thoughts solely focusing on the events in English. I was a hoarder, a keeper, and occasionally, a dreamer. I was completely head-over-heels...I was screwed.

I never got the bus home on Fridays as I would take this time to pick up snacks - it was my movie night - so I took my familiar route to the store like I did every week. I thought back to lunch as I walked. It had proved to be a little testing today. That charmer, Whitlock couldn't seem to keep his hands to himself for the whole hour. It was all wholly innocent of course, like a touch on the hand, arm, a ruffle of hair. She never once seemed to mind, always joking back with him, even sharing her lunch which consisted of only apple wedges. She needed to eat more...and apparently I had turned into a caring stalker.

It wasn't a particularly long walk from the school, and I made it there relatively quickly. A cute dog was tied up outside against one of the posts, its tail wagging happily. At least, I thought it had been tied up. One minute it was a good two meters away, the next it was sniffing my balls. I pushed its head away, hissing for it to "sit" and "shoo," just basically anything to gets its face from my crotch. That area had already been through enough for one day. Its owner finally came out of the store, shouting loudly for the dog to stop. This just caused that many more stares. I could hear people laughing around me and was positive I'd turn into a tomato with how red I must be, especially when it left my balls alone to try and hump my leg. Thankfully, the dog was back on its leash and was being dragged in the opposite direction. What else could possibly happen to me today?

I knew that was a bad thought to have, because as soon as I'd stepped through the automatic doors, the alarm went off. My eyes scanned left to right frantically, wondering what the hell was going on. I even had my arms raised in the air as if I was guilty of some underhand crime. I had images of balding security guards storming my way to take me to the station, earning myself a bad-ass nickname like "Spike" or "Gary" around town.

I suffered from an over-active imagination sometimes.

A group of young kids had accidentally taken something outside that they weren't supposed to have, hence the alarm sounding. I immediately dropped my arms, feeling the tell-tale blush assault my cheeks over my embarrassing actions. I stumbled my way into the store with my head down and my hands in my pockets, grabbed a shopping basket and headed for the first item on my list. A voice caught my attention and I wished I'd kept my head down, as the sound led me to the maybe-lesbian checkout girl. She had another one of those types of magazines again. Do not look, do not look, do not...omg black lace! Just move along swiftly.

Esme had asked me to pick her up some more hand cream the night before as she'd run out, and soft hands were needed in her line of work. Or so she would tell me on a regular basis, just in case I would somehow forget after the previous hundred times she'd relayed this fact to me. My mother was nothing but thorough. I picked up an extra one to try myself. While I didn't bake, there was a certain part of body that would appreciate the softness it produced for you hands, especially with the amount of Bella-induced fantasies I'd been having lately.

I wandered through the aisles, adding anything that took my fancy to my basket, before eventually coming to the snack aisle. I was perusing the different types of dip they had to offer when I felt a presence behind me. I swung my body round, my basket flying with me and hitting whoever it was in the hip.

"Oh my god, I'm so -" the words died on my lips as the extremely recognizable face grimaced at me. I'd just hit Bella Swan on the hip with my basket. God hated me.

"I believe this is yours," she chuckled, handing me one of the hand creams that I'd lost in my unplanned attack. I nodded absently, far more concerned about whether or not I'd hurt her.

"Does it hurt very bad?" I asked, wanting to peel her jacket from her skin and take a look myself.

Her laughter surrounded me, caressing me with its soft tones. "Honestly, I'm fine. I've had a lot worse things happen to me than an accidental hit with a flying shopping basket," she winked. Oh wink again bright angel. I now apparently had acquired the gift of shaking-up classic Shakespeare quotes. I should write a whole book filled with different examples and dedicate each one to the girl standing in front of me. "So, you like to keep soft hands?" she smirked.

I gulped and took a shaky breath. "I don't know, I guess," I replied, wishing that the bottles could have been any other colour but pink. "You can stroke me and see if you want?" I immediately winced, wanting to smash my head against the bag of chips in my line of sight. Plus, I had started to sweat so much with nerves I thought I'd have to go to the cleaning product aisle and pick up a sham-wow.

"Do you want me to stroke you?" Down boy. My throat had closed up, refusing to allow any more words to escape. Where were you about five seconds earlier, huh? All I could do was nod. Like I could ever refuse her anything. Her hand reached for mine, her small palm fitting so perfectly into my own. I had the sudden urge to skip...but in a totally masculine way of course.

"Hmm," she pondered, clicking the tongue on the roof of her mouth while running her fingers along my palm. "I don't personally think you need to use anything. You have beautiful hands, and your long fingers must come in handy." Oh my god. Was she flirting with me?

I looked into her own basket to calm myself. She had a few packs of her usual brand of gum and a bunch bananas. "Do you like having things in your mouth?" She started coughing, a snort sounding soon after. Fuck you word vomit! The old dude picking up a box of prunes next to us was even looking at me as if I was a tool. I bet he still picked up girls in his mobility scooter, and yet I couldn't even have a normal conversation with one. I was officially the biggest loser to ever walk the town that was Forks. At that very second, because this hadn't been enough of a shit day, Eric Yorkie walked through the store with an attractive group of girls wearing "God loves us" t-shirts. The very same Eric Yorkie who couldn't even get a girl to even look at him in school. I really should think about finding my faith.

The silence dragged on. She hadn't responded to my question, yet she couldn't have been offended and she was keeping a hold of my hand. In fact, her fingers were now starting to trace gently up the sleeve of my shirt. Her well-being came to the forefront of my mind again, remembering that she hadn't really eaten at lunch. I hope that wasn't her meal for tonight. "I hope that's not all you'll be eating later," I blurted, pointing to her basket. Her fingers froze for just a second before continuing.

"Why, do you have something else in mind?" she questioned. I flicked my gaze to her face, finding her eyes staring intently back at me. Um, yes? I wanted to tell her it wasn't something you would find on the menu at a high-end restaurant, but it was something she could have whenever she wanted it. It pretty much belonged to her already anyway.

"I have a water bed," I whispered, drowning in just her. At this point I didn't care what was coming out my mouth, not when she was looking at me like that. Plus, it was true, I did have a water bed. She didn't give me an answer, instead pulling me along with her. I grabbed my basket and let her lead me, trying not to hyperventilate as we passed the other shoppers. She was coming home with me, to my room, to see my water bed. My legs suddenly felt like jelly.

Bella had obviously been home before coming to the store as she had her truck with her, the very same truck that was supposed to be on a scrap yard somewhere. Apparently Jasper had fixed it for her. I clenched my fists and promised myself I would be ordering "Mechanics for Dummies" later that night.

I sat in the passenger seat, not daring to move, my body on lock-down. I discreetly pinched myself a few times just to make sure I wasn't dreaming, but other than that I simply concentrated on not vomiting on her seat. I didn't even realize we were at my house until she cut the engine. She hadn't even asked me where I'd lived. Oh my god she already knew? Whatever you do, do not squeal like a girl or do a 90's boy-band air grab.

We both jumped out the truck at the same time. Well, I say jumped...mine was more of a fall. Not one word had passed between us since the store, and still neither of us spoke as I led her up the stairs to my room. Both of my parents were working, and Emmett was probably getting attacked somewhere by Mrs. Stanley's cleavage.

"Err... this is my bed, I mean room," I corrected nervously. She gave me another one of those dangerous smirks before taking my hand again to pull me inside.

Her eyes scanned my shelves, her fingers trailing languidly along the spines of the books situated there. I was feeling an awful lot of jealousy towards those books right then. She turned back to face me and bit her lip, giving me a look that made me want to get on my knees and rattle off my devotion to her, before heading for the bed. Isabella Swan was just about to sit on my bed. If I wasn't such a clean freak, I'd never wash the sheets again.

"So, how exactly do you sit on this? I've never been on a water bed before. Why don't you come and show me?" she suggested, her voice so confident and sure-sounding. My fingers started to twist against each other, my anxiety choking me. I think she must have sensed this as she was suddenly stood in front of me, her palm on my cheek and her lips so near to mine I was surely crossed-eyed from staring at them. "You want to do this, right?"

She didn't get a chance to say anything else as I practically attacked her mouth, head-butting her slightly in my haste. God, she tasted delicious. My brain cells kicked in and I belatedly realised that I hadn't even given her fair warning. What if she didn't want it? Or I had given her a concussion or something.

I pulled my mouth away from hers, my breaths escaping me in quick bursts. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't-" Her fingers pressed themselves to my lips, and I had to resist the urge to smother the tips in gentle kisses.

"You apologise way too fucking much," she breathed, and with that my mouth was reattached back to hers. Her lips were so incredibly soft, her mouth tasting of her cinnamon gum. She was driving me absolutely insane. I started pushing her backwards towards the bed, my hands everywhere in my excitement. I was practically vibrating with finally being able to touch her like this.

I slid my hands down her back, accidentally catching her long hair with my fingers, a slight groan of pain escaping her mouth and reverberating into my own. I winced apologetically, stroking her scalp softly, my hands then continuing their descent until they finally rested on her ass. She moaned into my mouth, making me harden even further, the urge to rub myself against her making me restless and wanting. I couldn't not give those cheeks a firm squeeze. I got so carried away doing it she had to place her hand upon mine, a wide grin on her face. I blushed a thousand shades of red. She simultaneously removed her jacket and kicked off her shoes, sliding backwards, the mattress moving beneath her and doing wondrous things to the movement of her breasts. I removed my own shoes and leant back on my heels, ready to pounce upon her like a lion like I had in so many of my fantasies. I, of course, had forgotten the obvious - my bed wasn't really designed for that. I bounced awkwardly and went flying over Bella's form, finding myself crumpled on the floor on the opposite side of the bed to where I'd just previously been standing.

I was mortified. I immediately scrambled to my knees, peeking at Bella over the edge of the mattress. She was attempting to hold in her laughter, but a few giggles started slipping out. I could see she wasn't laughing at me to be spiteful or make fun of me, and after a few seconds I was smiling sheepishly back at her. I crawled over this time, and slowly settled myself above her body. She, however, wasn't having any of that and pushed me flat on my back, the action creating a sense of excitement I'd never before experienced. My erection was pitching a tent at the front of my jeans and she was eyeing it with appreciation. Yes, he loves you too.

When she lifted herself up and straddled my hips I very nearly started singing. Her mouth was back on mine, her tongue was in my mouth, and her hips were grinding on my dick. This was my version of heaven. Her fingers made quick work of the buttons on my shirt, almost ripping them clean off in her haste. Her breathy moans were music to my ears - I was the one causing these sounds. I sat up slightly so I could slip the material off my arms, but each sleeve got stuck at my wrist. I started pulling more vigorously, my arms trapped behind my back, but it wasn't budging - I may have even growled. I had gotten myself in a right mess. Bella, sensing my frustration, not to mention humiliation, reached behind me to undo the buttons at my cuffs. My movements to help her were so frantic that I elbowed her in the head. I gasped and immediately went to apologise, but the stern look she gave me let me know in no uncertain terms that I shouldn't utter a single word. She finally managed to get the buttons loose and pull the whole shirt away from my body. I sighed in relief and settled myself back against the pillows to admire her.

"You're so beautiful," she whispered while tracing the planes of my chest, an unknown emotion swelling inside of me at her words. I instantly started thrusting my hips up more forcefully, quietly hissing in pleasure when her nails dug into my skin.

Her hair created a curtain around us, the soft hue to her cheeks so beautiful I couldn't resist placing a kiss upon each one. She was so perfect. I settled my hands at her hips, tugging on her material of her shirt, awaiting her permission to remove it. Her arms wasted no time in crossing at the hem, pulling the item off in one fluid movement. And then there they were... the most exquisite pair of breasts I had ever seen. Also, she hadn't been wearing a bra. Perhaps God did love me after all.

I just sort of stared at them, completely transfixed, moans slipping from my mouth when she started to move once more. Oh, Jesus, they were bouncing. I wanted to ask her never to wear a shirt again, but then the fact that she wasn't mine became apparent, clarity hitting me smack in the face like the time I had run face-first into a stop sign. We had hardly spoken more than a handful of sentences to each other since she'd moved here, and yet here we were in my room, dry humping on my water bed. It was crazy and surreal and the best moment in my entire life so far. If I knew she wouldn't have thought it creepy, I would've asked her if I could tape us so I had a memento to keep with me always.

"Ugh, Edward, touch me please, I'm so close," she whimpered. I didn't need to be told twice. My hands reached forward and cupped her flesh, my thumbs gliding over her peaks, but it wasn't enough for either of us. I wanted to taste her skin.

I started trailing kisses down her neck and along her collarbone, before sweeping down further to capture a nipple in my mouth. The sound she let loose made me jump so much that I ended up clamping my teeth down on her peak a little too hard. She squeaked loudly and I quickly rectified it by running my tongue over her nipple gently before sucking lightly.

"Oh my god... nearly... there…"

Her body stilled and her moans of gratification and pleasure nearly made me shoot my load right there. I had just given Isabella Swan an orgasm... and instantly wanted to give her another. She collapsed on top of me, the feeling of her skin against mine indescribable. Her breathing calmed considerably after a few minutes, her lips then starting to move on my chest, gradually getting lower, and from the look she shot me from beneath her lashes as she lowered herself even further let me know exactly what she was going to do. Now it was my turn to collapse.

I couldn't watch as I felt her fingers undo the button to my jeans. She tugged on the waist of the denim and boxers, asking for some assistance. I momentarily rested my weight on my elbows, shaking in anticipation, and lifted my hips far too quickly off the bed. What happened next actually brought a tear to my eye, just knowing that would've been the final bit of klutz-fuckery she could handle - she would leave. I had just poked her in the eye with my erection.

"Shit, you really do have a weapon of mass destruction down there," she giggled, shaking her head in amused exasperation while rubbing her eye." I thought I was going to be sick, and sat up swiftly to stroke her face, but before I could even touch her she had pushed me back down.

"Try to hold still," she said softly as she looked away from me to trail her lips down from my navel, ignoring the area that was most desperate for her warmth. I clamped my hands down on the mattress so hard when her mouth finally covered me, that I thought I would burst it and soak us both with skanky mattress water. She was moving up and down... and at that moment I knew I would write her a song, one that represented the feeling of her mouth on my penis. It was magical.

I knew even before she'd touched me that I wasn't going to last long, and so when her tongue circled my tip I lost it, my hips leaving the bed slightly with a grunt. Did she just...? Her tongue was still working along my now deflated length. Oh my god, Isabella Swan just swallowed my love sauce... and I can't believe I just called it that. Biggest Loser USA just got an entirely new meaning.

She looked up and gave me the most heart-stuttering smile, her brown eyes shining softly back at me. I immediately reached down and pulled her beside me, planting a succession of kisses on her forehead, delighting in the giggles that came after each one. We didn't speak for the next few minutes, and when I finally worked up the courage to say something, her stomach growled, reminding me that she didn't eat enough. Her head ducked into my chest in the first show of embarrassment I'd seen from her. It made me smile softly. I pulled up my underwear along with my jeans and jumped from the bed. I knew just what to get her.

"I'll be right back," I informed her, running for the door and stubbing my toe on the frame on the way out. "I'm okay," I shouted behind me when I heard her hiss in response.

I hurriedly filled the tray and carried it back upstairs in record time, finding Bella resting in the exact spot I'd left her in. I carefully settled the tray between us, passing her my discarded shirt to wear so she would be covered. I sighed as I watched her slip it on. It was the right thing to do, no matter how I much I wanted to ogle her a little longer.

"What is it?" she asked, linking the fingers of her left hand with my right and staring down at the tray.

"It's cinnamon bread. My mother bakes it herself," I said, watching her eyes light up. "I thought you'd like it... what with your choice in gum," I added, blushing nervously. Please don't think I'm a crazy stalker.

"Just like I know you always chew the mint variety as your breath is always so minty fresh," she winked, picking up a slice of bread and taking a large mouthful. She'd been stalking me too. It was fate.

That's how we spent the most of that night; eating my mother's bread while asking and answering each other's questions and sneaking in the occasional kiss. I only head-butted her again once more during the evening, which we both saw as a great triumph. Tomorrow I was taking her to my mother's bakery to sample as many treats as she wanted. I'd give her anything.

Isabella Swan was warmth and fun, understanding and patient, cinnamon and kisses. She was simply perfect. And the best part was, there was not a hint of strawberry in sight.