This is my first ever fanfic, and my first attempt at guy on guy interaction...namely Jasper Hale and Mr Edward Cullen (human, not vamp). Be gentle! The title comes from a quote by Arthur Rimbaud. Chapter 1 and 2 are essentially a build up to the very very lemony Chapter 3. I'm still writing the rest, so we'll see what happens after that.

Chapter One: Death to Cell Phones

My cell phone buzzed in my back pocket a third time as I hurried to the lecture theater. I shifted the bag on my shoulder listlessly and kept walking.

Alice, Alice, Alice. Why won't you just CHILL?

I was already late, and this was a distraction I didn't need. Without even reading the text message I knew what it said...but I also knew that if I didn't shoot off a reply there'd be five more messages by the end of class.

What I wouldn't give right now for a life of celibacy.

I fumbled for my phone as I navigated my way through the Quad and its semi-permanent gaggle of smokers.

I looked at the message: OMG Jazz I am sooooo bored. What r u doing?

Oh the inanity.

I tried not to slow my pace as I texted back a curt reply: Busy. Class now. Call u tonight. Done.

I slid the lock and moved to repocket my phone, shifting the bag on my shoulder yet again. I looked up and something flicked in front of my face, right in front of my eyes. Instinctively I jerked back, fumbling my phone as I recoiled...and watched in horror as my phone clattered to the concrete, landing face down with a nasty shattering sound.

That would be the sound of the touch screen breaking. Awesome.

Then, to top it all off, the phone casing flew apart on impact like a NASA shuttle.

That's when I noticed the smoldering cigarette at my feet. My 'Hulk Smash!' instincts began to take hold as a hand touched my shoulder and a voice said,

"Sorry, man. I didn't see you there."

The owner of the voice bent down to retrieve the offending cigarette.

"FUCK you, man," I said with venomous sarcasm to the butt-flicker. "Why don't you use an ashtray next time, douchebag?"

I dropped my bag to the ground as I bent to pick up the pieces of what used to be my phone. When I stood up, the butt-flicker was facing me, and I recognized said douchebag instantly.

Edward Cullen. Well. Edward Fucking Cullen, as I knew him. Brooding, pretentious, loner, and the hands-down campus king of the inadvertent cockblock. The mere mention of his name sent girls into strange dreamlike trances...forget about carrying on a conversation if he ever happened to walk by. I'm not exaggerating when I say that he'd single-handedly broken the concentration of every single girl I'd ever dated, at least once per girl. And I'm not bragging when I say I've dated a lot of girls on campus. I didn't even know the guy and I hated him with every fiber of my being. Not in a do-something-about-it way, because he never actually did anything to me personally to justify the hatred.

I'd never been this up close and personal to him before, usually content to glare at his retreating figure. I took a moment to absorb it all. The just-got-off-a-girl hair...man that annoyed me. How hard could it be to wash your fucking hair? Then there was the pretentiously deliberate stubble, sideburns (of course), square jaw, oddly girlish mouth (never noticed that before), and heavy-lidded eyes, also in the just-got-off-a-girl style that he seemed to favor. And of course, the leather jacket (this guy was a walking cliche, seriously), obscure-band t-shirt, skinny jeans, motorcycle boots. Honestly, what's wrong with normal jeans and a normal tshirt? I'm no preppy, but I don't really find the need to make statements with my clothes. I'm a smart guy. I use my words instead.

Add it all up and you get Edward Cullen. As unofficial cockblock king, the guys on campus had an unspoken bond over Edward Cullen. We were all just waiting for the day when he looked at one of us the wrong way, or made a sarcastic remark, something to give us an excuse to pound him into the dirt. When that day came, we would line up around the block for the chance to join the Edward Cullen clock-cleaning tag-team.

I had figured that that day would never come. I mean, he was more like a shadow than a person. He didn't actually talk to anyone, let alone acknowledge them.

Until today.

Now I was primed, ready to take the first swing as he finally gave the smartass, inevitably douchey reply that would justify my punching his lights out. I mean, the way he looked, the way he dressed, he had to be a complete tool. Had to be. But instead he just looked at me evenly, and then, and this was weird, he lowered his gaze and rubbed awkwardly at his neck.

"I'm really sorry. I should've looked." He looked back up at me, and gestured to my hand and the pieces of my ex-phone. "Your phone. Can I see it?"

I sullenly slapped the phone pieces into his palm.

"Not much to see," I growled.

"Oh no." He looked at me apologetically. "Let me replace this for you. It's totally my fault."

I had just noticed the weird color in his eyes. What was up with that? Wow. He was one intense-looking dude. I snapped back to reality and looked at him quizzically.

"Replace it? Seriously? No, dude...you don't have to do that. I mean, I'm the one who dropped it." I couldn't believe the words that were coming out of my mouth. My mind screamed OF COURSE HE SHOULD REPLACE IT!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?????

I found myself able to smile, no forcing necessary. Weird. I was not punching Edward Cullen. I was smiling at him. I waited with interest to hear the next surprise to leap from my mouth.

"Really. It's cool. Just...you know...don't throw any more lit cigarettes at my head."

Okay...um...what now? It's "cool"? WHAT????

Why was I being so passive? Why was he being so passive? Why couldn't he just act like a douche so I could break that pretty aquiline nose like I wanted to? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm not a meathead who goes around picking fights or anything. That's Alice's brother Emmett. Personally, I tried to avoid fighting because, well, I liked fighting a little too much and I knew it. I was strong and I was fast, and I knew how to move my feet. So when handed a reason to fight, I rarely walked away leaving anyone unharmed. Which is why I didn't really understand how this seemingly straightforward situation had veered off into this...amicable parting of ways.

Edward tightened his jaw and maintained his even stare.

"No. If I don't replace it for you I'll feel like a heel. Please just let me do this. By way of apology." He pocketed the phone pieces in his leather jacket, as if to end the conversation.

Then he smiled.

Now, as a general rule I don't look guys in the eye unless we're about to fight, or they're family. I don't know why. It just seems too, familiar, I guess. Other guys I know are the same way. The urge to break Edward Cullen's face had completely dissipated, and as far I knew we weren't blood-related. Yet I was willingly, almost happily, staring into his eyes. It was really more curiosity than anything else. I'd never seen eyes that color before. They were a weird, bright brown, if there's such a thing. I don't know about names of colors or anything. But they looked like the color on a toasted bagel. Or beer. Yeah, the color of an IPA. I'd never seen beer-colored eyes before. But there was something else, something besides the color. It was the casual-hypnotist way that he was looking at me. If he was a girl looking at me like that I would have either kissed her or got her number. But Edward Cullen was a guy, and I was not doing either of those things.

Kissing? Yeesh.

I shook the thought out of my head and realized I still had a lecture for which I was now very late.

"Fuck! I gotta go. Um. Thanks, I guess? Oh. Yeah. Um... my name's Jasper, by the way. But maybe you knew that?" I figured he had to, he'd been at college as long as I had. It's not like it's a big school.

He nodded, and a small smirk played on his lips. I continued my slow, backwards walking, babbling escape.

"I'm around campus all the time, so...um I guess when you get the phone taken care of, just call me. Oh. Well. I guess I don't have my cell phone. Hahaha. Well, ask around. People know me." I waved a hand and started walking briskly out of the Quad. I called over my shoulder as I went.

"Use an ashtray!"

As I walked away I realized I probably should have given him my email, or home phone or something.

I looked back over my shoulder to call out to him again, but he was gone.

Oh well.