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Frenimies by McVampy
FRENEMIES
by McVampy
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4794348/1/Frenemies
Seven Minutes in Hell
“Cullen, even a moron knows that Everett’s many-worlds interpretation of Schrodinger’s Cat
is the only plausible theory!” I hiss. “Only a dunce like you would adopt the Copenhagen
theory as the only acceptable interpretation!” I add mockingly.
“Swan, don’t be an insufferable ass. There is no one right answer,” he responds angrily.
Only a simpleton like you would try to simplify quantum mechanics in such a sophomoric
fashion. You’re in over your empty little head!” he barks.
“Eat shit, Cullen!” I snap.
“Get laid, if any man exists that would actually touch your cobwebbed crypt of doom!” he
retorts.
“Nice comeback, dweeb, that didn’t even make sense,” I say snidely and roll my eyes.
Someone bangs the door.
“Hey, you guys gonna just talk the entire time?” a male voice asks.
“SHUT UP!” we both shout simultaneously.
“You know, we’re just gonna keep you guys locked in there until we hear seven minutes of
moaning and lip smacking,” the voice answers.
“Cullen, I hate your guts for showing up to this stupid party. I’d gladly be locked in this
closet with anyone but you. Shit, I’d stick my tongue down Tyler Crowley’s throat without
even coming up for air before I’d want to be stuck in here with you!” I say icily.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Swan. I’m only here because Esme is friends with Jessica’s vapid
mother. And I’d sooner feel up Lauren Mallery’s tits before I’d willingly be stuck in here with
you!” he hisses back.
There’s another bang on the closet door.
“It’s been 45 minutes you guys. Just make out already!” says another male voice.
“If you touch me, Cullen, I’ll kill you. I bet you kiss like a vacuum cleaner. Using the back of
your hand as practice doesn’t count as experience, you know,” I say, trying to press his
buttons.
“Yeah well tonguing your life sized cardboard cut-out of Aragorn doesn’t count either, Swan,”
he counters.
“You’re disgusting!” I spit.
“You’re repulsive!” he answers.
And then the universe splits itself in two: one in which we keep fighting, and one in which we
kiss. I am in the latter existence.
We grab each other by the face and our lips angrily press together. First the kiss is so rough
and eager that we’re actually hurting each other. Then we slow down and our lips dance
together more tenderly. Edward moves his hands to my back, trailing one to my ass. I’m
now holding the collar of his shirt with both hands but soon loosen my grasp so I can rub his
chest instead.
Edward’s tongue lightly touches mine. A small moan slips out of me before I can control
myself. I push my tongue further into his, wanting to get more of the sweet taste of his
mouth.
Edward is leaving a light trail of kisses along my neck.
“Swan…” he murmurs.
“Cullen…” I moan back.
He gently moves his hand from my stomach to my breast. I let out a small gasp. He removes
his hand.
“Sorry Swan, I wasn’t thinking,” he says sheepishly.
“Shut up Cullen,” I say, placing his hand back on my breast. No one’s ever felt up my boob
before, but I figure Cullen doesn’t even count since I hate him so much and will probably
block this from my memory permanently anyway.
“Shit, Swan, your tits feel fantastic,” he groans.
“Jesus, Cullen, will you please shut the fuck up so that I don’t constantly have to be
reminded that you’re the one touching me?” I say, highly annoyed.
We resume our necking for another minute when door suddenly opens. We have to squint so
our eyes can adjust to the light and immediately drop our hands to our sides.
“God, I thought I’d never get out of there,” Edward says with relief, purposely making a
point of appearing disgusted with having been stuck in a closet with me. While I’m not
surprised he’s acting this way, I am surprised that my feelings are hurt.
“His dick is TINY!” I yell, pointing at Edward. Everyone bursts out laughing.
In your face, Cullen.
The next day at school is like any other day. Edward and I continue our rivalry with gusto.
It’s time for biology, when Edward and I actually have to sit next to each other and
sometimes work together. Today we’re sharing a microscope to identify cell cycles. The work
is so easy that the game is simply to see who can answer faster. Whenever the challenge is
too easy and no longer entertaining, we resort to personal insults to pass the time.
“Cullen, that stupid leather wrist brace or whatever you’re wearing is beyond ugly. You’re
still a dweeb who’s trying too hard to look cool,” I say with an evil smirk.
“Swan, you wouldn’t know ‘cool’ if it whacked you over the head with a mallet,” he retorts.
School had always been our ultimate turf war. We competed for the top spot in our class for
as long as I could remember. Now that we were juniors in high school, our GPAs had been
neck and neck for years. At the request of both our parents at the beginning of freshman
year, we’ve never told who is actually in the lead. We both have averages that exceed 4.0,
but by how much we don’t know. Only the principal has access to the exact numbers. We’ve
tried hacking the school’s system to find this key piece of information but I guess Principal
Meyer knew we’d try that, so she does the actual tabulation by hand on paper that she keeps
in a safe deposit box at the bank.
But our close tie isn’t just in our grades. We have to share the top spot in everything.
Debate Team: Co-chairs
Chess Club: Co-Captains
Forks High Tribune: Co-Editors-In-Chief
National Honors Society: Co-Presidents
Mathletes: Co-Captains
The only separate hobbies we have were music, art and athletics. Edward is some kind of
musical geek while I’m pretty good at painting and illustration. He runs track but I’m too
clumsy for pretty much any sport besides swimming.
Biology is almost over. Edward and I are running out of insults, so it’s a good thing the
dismissal bell is about to ring. I can only think of so many words to put in front of “—ward”
after all. There’s “Dickward,” “Assward,” “Wankward,” and the old standby “Fuckward.” I love
that one because it sounds almost exactly like Fuckwad. He hates that nickname more than
any of the others.
Running all these extracurricular activities jointly meant that we had to spend a lot of time
together outside of school. It sucks because it seems like I see him all day long, everyday.
Of course most of the rest of my time is spent studying to keep my grades where they are. I
also have a part time job at the sporting good store. So basically, I have no social life. I go
to parties on the weekends occasionally, but a lot of the other kids at school are in their own
little cliques.
Since my oldest friends are all dating each other, I usually end up going out with them in a
group. And guess who else is always there? Yes, my favorite person Fuckward. How messed
up is that—going on triple dates pretty much all the time with a person who annoys the shit
out of you?
School’s over for the day and Edward and I have just finished up running a chess club
meeting. Like always, he challenges me to a game of chess. I am more than happy to wipe
the board with his ass.
“Don’t make that move Swan; it’s suicide,” he tells me.
“What the hell do you know about strategy, Cullen?” I snap back.
“Fine, I’ll just win in less moves. Thanks for speeding things up for me,” he says
sarcastically.
“Get bent, Cullen,” I say.
“Get a life,” he says with a smirk.
I hate that smirk of his—he has this stupid crooked smile. Plus he never combs his hair
because he’s a geek. It’s always all spiky and all over the place. It’s a bronze/brown color
that would nice on a guy who wasn’t such a jerk. Edward looks different now than he did just
six months ago or so. He got a lot taller. He has some chest hair now too. I wasn’t looking
for it—his shirt was unbuttoned. He has face stubble now too. I only noticed because I have
to sit next to him all the time.
I win the game. Then he wins the next one. We have to call a draw because we both need to
go home and study.
The next day I need to go to his house to work on something for the school newspaper. I’ve
known his parents for so long that I just let myself in the house. Dr. Cullen is at work and I
don’t see Esme’s car, so she must be out too.
I run up the stairs and knock on Edward’s door before letting myself in.
What the hell?
Edward’s sitting at his desk with his back to me. I see something on his computer screen
that looks like writhing naked people before he closes the web browser really fast.
“Shit, Swan, did you really need to barge in like that? You’re so fucking rude!” he snaps.
“Were you looking at porn, Cullen? God, you’re disgusting. You knew I was coming over. Too
horny to wait until after I leave?” I ask bitingly.
“You’re an intolerable bitch Swan, I swear to God,” he says angrily.
“You know, no amount of porn will help you lose your virginity or give you a snowball’s
chance in hell in learning how to please a woman,” I tease abrasively.
“How would you know if I’m a virgin or not?” he asks, getting irritated.
“Oh, I don’t know, I’m only forced to be around you everyday,” I snort sarcastically.
“I know how to get a woman excited Swan,” he says smugly.
“Do you make her watch your bad porn?” I ask.
“It’s not bad porn actually, I do pay for it,” he says.
“I dare you to show it to me,” I say, convinced he doesn’t have the nerve.
“Swan, you can’t handle it, you’d get freaked out,” he says dismissively.
“Shut up and turn it on, jackass,” I order.
The launches his web browser and accesses some XXX web site. After entering a user name
and password, he finds the mpeg he was watching when I walked into his room.
It’s a video of two women and a man fooling around. The women take turns giving the guy a
blowjob then he has sex with one while going down on the other. He then switches.
I’ve watched some porn in the past, but nothing this graphic. I can feel my face turning red;
it’s something that always happens to me when I’m embarrassed or uncomfortable. I’m
getting uncomfortable because I’m finding the porn a little exciting and I don’t want Edward
to notice.
“Swan, you’re blushing. What’s wrong, never seen a naked dick before?” he asks crudely.
“Fuck you, Edward,” I say bitterly.
Edward and I have an unspoken rule. We only use each other’s first names when we’re really
pissed off at each other. It’s a strange practice we’d started in middle school.
I’m pissed off now because my involuntary blushing is something that really bugs me. I see
it as a weakness and he knows that. So this particular insult crossed a line.
“Come on Swan, I told you the porn would be too much for you and you didn’t listen,” he
says defensively. “Don’t get mad at me for calling you out on it,” he says.
“It’s not too much, I can watch it no problem. It’s seeing you staring at it like a nasty perv
that I can’t handle,” I say, pulling a chair up next to him.
We keep watching. This time two women are getting it on. The video shows close ups of each
of them licking the other’s clits. One woman puts her tongue inside the other woman, darting
it in and out. I can feel it getting hot and wet between my legs and soon my nipples stiffen
too.
I glance over at Edward and before I realize what I’m doing, I start looking him over. His
face isn’t that unfortunate but I would never tell him that. He’s got the crazy hair and facial
stubble. His nose is OK. It’s almost straight but if you look closely it’s a little crooked and
there’s a bump in the bridge that I’ve noticed only because I have to look at his damn face
every day. I guess his eyes are his best feature. They’re a nice deep green color. He’s got
really long eyelashes too which I guess is cute on a guy. His eyebrows are thick and make
his facial expressions really pronounced—especially when he’s serious or thinking. His jaw
line and chin are chiseled and angular. Being an illustrator, I tend to notice these things.
“Swan why are staring at me like I’m a pork chop?” he asks.
“Shut up Cullen,” I reply.
Edward shifts in the chair uncomfortably. It’s probably due to the big bulge I can see in his
pants.
“Cullen I can leave the room if you need to take care of that problem you’re having in your
pants,” I say with a snicker.
“Swan you’re not one to talk. I see you squirming in your chair. And your headlights are on,”
he shoots back.
“How often do you watch this and play with yourself, 10, 15 times a day?” I ask sarcastically.
“No, I don’t play with myself nearly as much as you do, Swan,” he says.
“So, do you?” I ask, curiously.
“Do I what?” he counters.
“You know, touch yourself?” I ask, instantly regretting it.
“Swan I’m a seventeen year old male. What the hell do you think?” he asks rhetorically.
“Do you?” he asks.
“Do I what?” I ask in a snotty voice, being facetious.
“Stop being a bitch. Do you finger yourself?” he asks pointedly.
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