Jessica and I had been friends since the 3rd grade. There wasn’t a whole lot we had in common but when you grow up in small town Forks, Washington USA, there isn’t a whole lot of people you can call your best friend just because there aren’t a whole lot of people your age.

Honestly though, Jessica was probably just more of the only person who would hang-out with me. She told me all about her boy problems and called me when she was having a bad hair day and I spent the night at her house a lot but quite frankly, I was more of a friend to her than she was to me. And it wasn’t necessarily her fault. I just was really bad with people. I guess I still am.

When it comes down to it, I’m probably virtually friendless.

It’s not as sad and pathetic as it sounds. I promise. I like to keep to myself.

Growing up with Jessica as a “best friend” wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Like I said, I’m kinda shy and don’t get along with people very well. Jessica on the other hand had to be the center of attention- of everyone’s attention. She was Miss Popular. That’s just the way it was. She was skinny and had perfect hair and did her make-up perfect and always wore the greatest clothes. I, however, had not so perfect hair and never wore make-up and unless Jessica was forcing me to borrow her clothes, wore jeans and t-shirts.

I remember once in middle school I had spent the night at her house. I woke up in the middle of the night to use the restroom and I heard her parents fighting. My mother had died in a car crash when I was really young so I never heard any kind of parental arguments before. I stood by their door and listened as it slowly went from “You never help out around the house!” and “I just want to come home to a little wet cunt every now and then!” to (believe it or not the undeniably cheesy lines of) “How about I help out inside your pants.” and “Oh but it’s so wet now.”

They never even noticed me (which wasn’t odd for me I was used to being practically invisible) but I peeked through the cracked door as my Jessica’s father rubbed his wife’s crotch under her skirt. She moved her hands over his body then began to caress her own breasts and she reached through the waistband of her skirt to rub herself just as her husband was.

I felt something stir inside me. It frightened me a little bit and I returned to Jessica’s room. I closed the door behind me and turned. Jessica’s blanket had fallen off at some point during my absence. She had never been prone to wearing a bra while she slept just a giant sleeveless night shirt.

It had slipped a little and I could see her breast through the arm hole and the stirring inside me grew more. I swallowed a lump in my throat and got on the bed beside her. She moaned my name telling me to stop hogging the covers which I did quite often. She moved her hand around looking for the edge of it. I supplied what she was looking for and laid down with my head on her chest. Her heart beat was steady under her skin. She sighed and I used everything I had in my power to not do as her father did to her mother and reach up under the edge of her shirt to rub her sensitive skin. I had never wanted to touch Jessica like that more than in that moment.

My body ached to hear her moan my name in pleasure rather than in irritancy.

That was probably the first time I realized that all I wanted in life was someone who understood my urges. I wanted a girlfriend.

Jessica had been talking about this weekend all month. My birthday. My 18th birthday. She picked me up from my house stating that my old red truck wasn’t going to make it to where we were going. She took me to her house and fixed my hair. She even dressed me in some of her more slutty clothes. Clothes that I had fantasized about ripping off of her.

After that night of realization in middle school I couldn’t seem to keep my mind away from thoughts of her body. Personality wise she wasn’t really my cup of tea but she was the most beautiful- the sexiest woman I had ever known.

It had always been kinda hard going to parties with her because I was her sober friend and anytime she had even a drop of alcohol in her she became the biggest bisexual slut ever. There were times that I had to stop her from having sex with any person also drunk enough to pull their pants down for anybody. And worse was the drive home when it was just me and her and she would put her hand up my shirt.

“Bella, you have the most amazing tits. I wish I had your tits!” she would look at me shyly, “Bella can I lick them?” despite how flooded my pants became every time she said that I always laughed it off and pushed her back into her own seat, telling her to put her seatbelt on.

But my birthday was Saturday and Friday night Jessica and I were going into Seattle to one of the biggest clubs in the state.