Pickup Truck by MaryElizabeth23

Pickup Truck by MaryElizabeth23
A Teambella23 Fic: Freckled, sunburned, and scraped, our lives are lived barefoot and sandy, rolling under the baking sun and surfing the salty water—young, wild, and brave. Volkswagens, bonfires, and "You call that a pickup truck?" We were born into this, but we won't be like them. We're invincible. We're seventeen. We're smarter than that. What's the worst that can happen?


Pickup Truck is so my kind of fic. Teenagers running a muck, doing stupid things, saying stupid things, hurting each other's feelings, making out in a pickup truck. Oh, and they live on the beach, so there's lots of this happening . . . You're welcome!


I love everything about this fic--writing style, fresh, new characters, changing up older faves (James is a Bella's BFF and a girl, Edward has gray eyes, Bella's a blonde, Charlie, a board shop owner and pothead). Everything, everything, everything is great. Even the plot! I know!

Bella and Edward are best friends. She's never seen him that way. Sure, he's cute and has always been her "fixer," but that's it. She even has an off again, on again boyfriend (Reminington, who I imagine looks like this . . . again, you're welcome). But one drunken birthday night and a accidental flash of boob gets hormones running where they haven't before, and the pair of opposite sex besties end up naked in a . . . pickup truck.

Excerpt from Chapter 1

Then there's the moon, and the stars, and the waves … I'm so drunk.

I lift the hood to my hoodie over my head, tighten the strings tight, and look over at Edward, smiling.

"Nothing but teeth," he says.

I notice he's taken his shirt off. "Nothing but chest!" I laugh. Then I look down at myself: sweater, swimsuit bottoms, flip flops. "Wait," I say. "Are we going swimming?"

He shrugs.

I pull my hoodie off over my head and let it drop to the sand. Only too little too late, I notice that with my sweater went most of my top. My entire left breast is exposed.

I look over at Smirks with wide eyes.

He kisses me.

Somehow we end up in the front seat of my vehicle—foggy windows, elbows and knees, seat belt lodged in my back—the whole stereotypical deal. Thank God for bench seats.

He's smirking again, and it's so pretty, so I show him both of my boobs. He's a boy, so he loves them. We're laughing, and we're touching, and we're so fucking drunk that nothing else matters, not even the consequences.
They play it cool; they're best friends, and accidents happen, right? Of course they do. But what about the worst kind of accident between teenagers--conception. Bella is plagued with thoughts of what the hell she's going to do. What are her options? Does she tell Edward? Does she tell Remington? What does she do with a baby? Now, I've read bad Bella's pregnant fics, and this is not one of them. This fic gets to the heart of things--the struggle a woman goes through when she's pregnant and it wasn't planned. But it's not a heavy storytelling. Maryelizabeth23 does an amazing job of not making judgments and at the same time keeping these deep topics lighthearted through the wit and naive thought process of a kid--a kid that doesn't know anything.

Excerpt from Chapter 5

"I have the results, Bella."

It's like a shot to the heart, literally—I'm pretty sure my heart stops beating. Dying would be much easier than destroying the lives of everyone around me with another positive result. At least if I croak now, I'll be remembered as that cool surfer chick and not the seventeen-year-old teen mom.

I'll go out with a little bit of pride intact.

It would suck because I'd be dead … but my life might be ending, anyway.

Dr. V pushes away from the counter and holds the paper with my result in both hands. "Like I told you before, Bella, you've already taken three—"

I interrupt her. "Can you just tell me what it says, please?"

As it turns out, my heart never stopped beating. Nope. It's very much working, pounding from the inside of my fucking throat.

My lungs on the other hand…

"It's positive, Bela with one L."

Dr. V's crack at a joke wasn't very funny. And I really wish I was one of those people who fainted every time they heard life-altering news. It would be so cool to just check out right now. It would be even better if I woke up with James and Dr. V above me again, only to have Dr. V tell me she was kidding.

"Just kidding," she would say. "You're not pregnant. Your boobs are growing because you're awesome, and you've missed a period because God has decided you're too cool for the agony of a menstrual cycle. I called him," she would say. "I have God on speed dial."

But none of that happens. Dr. V just moves on to the next set of questions. This time they involve every single detail of my life since I last had sex.

I answer them as best I can: "No, I've only had one partner in the last four months. Yeah, he has a girlfriend. No, I don't know if they have sex, but … you know. Yes, I'm sure. One. I've only been with one person. Edward. His name is Edward."

After the rapid-fire questioning is over, Dr. V leans against the wall and sighs. "Going by the information you've given me, Bella, I'd say you're between six and eight weeks pregnant. You're estimated due date is late January. Probably around the twenty-eighth."

I hide my face in my hands. "This isn't happening."
I love this Bella (I imagine she looks like this--a bit edgy but still beautiful.). I love her friends, her family, Edward aka Smirks, her stupid job and Swedish fish, and her skateboarding. I love everything. The only thing I don't love is that it's not finished, but that will happen. I trust this author. She's amazing. Sadly, she does take stories down on occasion, so I've only been able to read two of her multi-chaptered fics. The other is one of my faves, too. I reviewed True Love Way forever ago, and the author pulled it before many of you could read it, but now it's back up. Yay! So go read that one, too.

I promise you will not regret reading Pickup Truck. You will also not regret looking up "Surfer Boys" on WeHeartIt. For serious. I could spend all day on that tag. Yum!