Bad Fauxmance by stella luna sky

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5763086/1/

I, Edward Cullen lose a bet - what bet, you ask? God, does it even matter? I lose
a bet, and now I'm here, in this gay club, with this huge guy grinding on me.
There are perfect girls everywhere, enjoying the freedom of dancing without
wandering male eyes, unaware of my gaze following the sway of their tits. Little
do I know that the big guy grinding on me will become my gaytor, or so he calls
himself - my gay tutor. Because I, Edward Cullen, will have to pretend to be gay
to keep the man-hating Bella Swan in my life, as my roommate, my best friend,
and the girl I fall in love with.

I blame it on the alcohol. I know there are several god-awful auto tuned songs
that blame it on the alcohol, so why can't I? It got me here, in this mess. I'm
sitting here, staring at my friends – friends, ha – while all of them stare back at
me. They want me to say something, do something… at least Emmett does, that
asshole. He's the only one who knows my secret. And he's sitting there, across
from me, smirking, waiting for me to react.

I might have suppressed it these past months, but the overwhelming desire to go
ape-shit, I mean really ape-shit, full on fists and teeth – No Edward, teeth is
wrong – is making blood pulse through my veins. My eye is twitching. My jaw is
clenching.

Bella saves me. God, that beautiful, stupid girl, so oblivious, so fine. She yawns –
Jager makes her sleepy – and throws something at Emmett.

"No, that is so boring. Ugh, who are you people?" She shoots a glare at Emmett,
and I grin, because Emmett loves Bella, that treacherous big gay.

We are all drunk, so drunk that truth or dare sounded like an excellent idea. So
drunk that Emmett thought it would be hilarious to dare me to kiss him, to get
his biggest wish. No, not a kiss from me. His biggest wish is to be around when I
finally break. Break down, break out, break away. Now I am quoting Kelly
Clarkson – God, I have been playing this part for too long.

"What would you prefer, then, princess?" Emmett asks, and she rests her head
against his shoulder.

"Edward just said how kissing for you guys is like shaking hands for straight
people."

Emmett snorts, and I choke on my Smirnoff – I am drinking a Smirnoff, oh god,
get me out of the gay.

"Is that so?" Emmett asks, his eyes so bright he looks like Old Saint Nick's
homosexual brother.

"Uh huh," Bella continues, adorable, beautiful, drunk and sleepy. "He said that
blowjobs are like, first base, too. So kissing is just not a satisfactory dare."

By this time, Emmett looks like he's about to explode with laughter, and I know
tomorrow, or the next day, or whenever I wake up from this nightmare, he will
be reaming me.

"Okay, fine," Emmett relents. I see that look on his face, and I know that
whatever is coming is about ten times worse. "I dare you to kiss Bella, then,
Edward."

And it's my wildest dream, my deepest fantasy. I'm so deep into this charade
that my once X-rated mind has dwindled, and I beat off to the thought of finally
catching her with my mouth and my tongue and her mouth and her lips and oh
god, my cock, it's so hard.

She has no idea, no clue what she does to me. She walks around topless half the
time, completely unaware of how fucking gorgeous she is, how perfect her tits
are, how much I want them in my hands, my mouth, around my cock. She asked
me to feel them once, to give her my honest opinion, are they too small? Too
saggy? B-cups sag too, Edward.

Like I didn't know. Like I hadn't seen a lot of tits in my life, like I didn't know at
that moment hers were the most perfect in this whole universe. And it all started
because I lost a bet, a stupid bet that was supposed to go on for one night, but
because that stupid, gorgeous girl beguiled me, I continued, just to be close to
her.

And now she's biting her lip at me, shy. She hates boys, straight boys – they
creep her out, she always says. They make her so uncomfortable, why are they
staring at me, Edward? Because you're gorgeous, so hot, so sexy, oh god, I'm so
turned on I can't even think straight.

Then she's coming towards me, determined, like kissing me is no big deal
because that's the thing, it's not to her. But to me, it's everything I've hoped for
in my depraved mind, my deceitful mind.

But it's no big deal to her, nothing at all. Because to Bella Swan, owner of the
most perfect tits and quite possibly my heart, I am gay.

And so, so fucked.

In which I lose my dignity

I light up a cigarette and take in the night air with my first drag. Why does a
cigarette taste so good after a blowjob? It's not like I did anything except grab
her hair and gently remind her that teeth are for eating only, but I'm winded,
exhausted, like I just ran a mile. There's just something about all that focus on
you, the hot, wet mouth and the sucking and the –

Then I hear a loud yell, and I nearly suck in the whole cigarette I'm so scared.
There's nothing like a good gotcha to really get your heart going, and it's going
so fast I have to lean against the banister of my apartment's balcony. Then I
walk back in slowly, carefully, ready to beat someone's ass.

As fate would have it, the yell comes from someone who is ready to beat my ass.

The girl who I fucked, the girl who just blew me, Heidi, is cringing as my
roommate, Garrett stands over her and yells at the top of his lungs. I can't even
understand what he's saying, but my blood starts to boil – no one yells at a

woman like that, especially a woman who knows what to do with a cock like she
does.

"Hey, what the fuck, man?" I ask, stubbing out my cigarette in one of the dozen
ash trays laying around. "Don't fuckin' talk to her like that…"

Garrett whips around, and it's like I've just been faced with a charging bull.
Garrett is a huge guy, massive, with bulging muscles and an intimidating
Northeast accent. I cower back instinctively.

"You're naked, too?" he nearly screams, and I mean screams.

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when two people bump uglies." I'm really
annoyed at his attitude by this point.

His eyes bulge. "You bumped uglies with my sister?"

Oh, Jesus Christ, this cannot be good. I stare at Heidi, betrayed. She's blushing,
her blonde hair falling over her face in little ringlets that seemed so cute an hour
ago. Now, she might as well be Shirley Temple for all that I'm attracted to her.

"Garrett's your brother?" I yell, pointing vaguely in both of their directions. "That
would have been nice to fucking know!"

"Don't talk like that to my sister, bro," says Garrett, the giant douche bag who
was just screaming at her two seconds ago. "Apologize for fucking her."

Really? Really? I'm not going to fucking apologize, Garrett. You can seriously put
your head between your knees and suck your own cock before I apologize for
your sister's tight –

"Apologize right fucking now!"

"Christ, I'm sorry!" I nearly bleat, like a trodden on lamb. "I didn't know, man. I
wouldn't have – I mean, she's hot, but I wouldn't – " I retract at the look on his
face – "Okay, okay! I'm sorry. My fucking bad, dude."

"Your fucking bad," he repeats, like it's the understatement of the century. "I'm
going to beat the ever loving shit out of you, Cullen."

Well, that's just not right. I apologized, Garrett. Maybe your sister should
apologize for feeling so good wrapped around me, what about that? We would
have never gotten into this situation. In fact, maybe your parents should
apologize for having such fucking good genes, and creating that fine piece of p –

"The ever. Loving. Shit." He repeats this, like he has to affirm it to himself. "I
almost hate to have to do this. You're my boy, but that's my fucking sister."

"Let's just wait a second," I say, trying to act calm. In reality, I'm panicking,
because Garrett could destroy me if he wanted to, and how emasculating is that?
I can't panic and be destroyed in front of a girl I just worked the moves for.
"Maybe we could… I don't know – work something out…"

This stops Garrett in his giant (moose) tracks. "Work something out?"

I stop cringing. "Yeah… like… I'll take out the garbage for a week, or something…"
Maybe I sound like a pussy, bartering not to get hit. But god damn it, I do not
want to get hit.

"Huh," he says, mulling it over. Garrett is big and loud and fun, but quick he is
not. Then he guffaws, like something is just so hilarious. "Actually, I got a better
idea, Cullen."

I do not like the sound of that. "All right…"

Garrett shrugs. "Kate's been trying to get me to go to the Golden Nugget for
months now…"

"The Golden Nugget?" Oh god, this can't be good. The Golden Nugget is a huge
gay club down town.

"Yeah, bunch of queers, man. But she wants to go, she thinks the gays are
soooooo cute. She's really busting my balls. But maybe it wouldn't be so bad if
you came with…"

This doesn't sound so bad. A night in a gay bar as opposed to getting my face
pounded in? I'll take it.

"But to make it a bit sweeter for me, because after all, you just nailed my baby
fucking sister…" Yeah, rub it in, Cro-Magnon… "you have to pretend you're gay.
For that whole night."

I think I feel my balls retracting into my body. "Hell the fuck no."

Garrett turns frightening again. "What was that?"

I stand here and weigh my options. Jesus Christ, do I let him cause me a world of
hurt and possibly a lot of fucking dollars in facial reconstruction surgery, or do I
humiliate myself in front of a bunch of gays?

Well, I reason, it's not like you're going somewhere where tons of people are
going to know you. You don't really know anyone gay, so it's not like someone
will recognize you. It could be interesting… and cute girls fucking flock the gay
clubs…

"I said okay," I mutter, disgusted at myself.

I hear a girly giggle, and I realize that Heidi is in the room still. I went through all
that trouble not to emasculate myself in front of her, but Garrett tricked me into
looking like a jackass, anyway. Garrett nods, satisfied, and then grunts
something about going to pick up Katie.

Heidi and I are left alone again. I wonder if Garrett realizes what a dumb fuck he
really is, because there is now no way I'm not hitting that again.

"So…" I start, and it's all that I need before she's on her knees again.

Saturday night rolls around, and Garrett and Kate-Kate are standing behind me in
line, waiting to get wristband-ed and let in. I have never seen so much color in
my life, so much glitter. I hear nothing but judgments falling from lisps, and I am
so out of my element, I'm terrified.

I can hear them talking about me, the guy with the baseball cap on and the
wrinkled shirt. Who do I think I am, showing up like this, but oh Jaysus, can they
please have my ass spread over their morning toast? Oh god, I am never going
to survive this night.

"Gays don't slouch," Kate informs me, smacking her gum in my face. I want to
strangle her most of the time, and right now, it's doubled.

"I'm not gay," I say, my teeth clenched tighter than my asshole.

Garrett rolls his fists and reminds me that tonight, I am.

We eventually make our way inside, and oh god, what am I going to do? As I
move through the club, eyes pass over me, lecherous. Is this how women feel
when they walk through a club? No, fuck that, women ask for that attention with
their pokey-outey tits and their sparkly eyes. I'm not asking for this attention, the
"mmm" falling from multiple lips. I'm trying to find my way to the bar so I can
drink and act like I'm not man meat.

I find my way to it, finally. A huge blonde is behind the counter, and she's
whipping out drinks so fast I can barely think straight. She's gorgeous, and I
want her number in my phone and her lips around my cock. I go to make a
move, to say something smooth, when a giant leans up to the bar next to me.

"Well, you're pretty," he says, like I asked him.

"I know," I say, because I do. I see the stares I get, and if I'm not cocky, I'm at
the very least confident.

"Don't get rude," he says quickly, changing his demeanor. His head snaps on his
neck, and I have officially gotten my first gay diss. Within five minutes. Oh, god.
I'm doing so good.

"Sorry," I say quickly, because this guy is seriously huge. Bigger than Garrett. His
hair looks like it must have taken hours to achieve, and he has glitter on his
eyelids. His shirt has holes strategically cut out, showing a flash of man nipples
here and there, and he is wearing leather pants. Leather. Pants.

He raises his eyebrow at me, and then orders me a drink. A Tom Collins? Oh god,
oh god. I am not a girl, nor a pussy. I do not drink Tom Collinses.

The blonde behind the bar hands them over, and I stare at her, plead her to see
that I am straight. I am lost in a sea of gay, and she could be my life vest.

"What? Not sweet enough for you, princess?" she asks, nodding to my drink and
raising an eyebrow. "Not enough fairy dust?"

The giant laughs. "Thanks for the drinks, Rosie."

She just nods and goes to the next patrons. I am so offended I hardly register
what the giant is doing, tugging on my hand and playing with my fingers.

"Let's dance," he says, so close to my ear that I can almost feel his tongue. Oh
god, no, that is his tongue.

I think I bleat out a no, but it must have sounded like a moan, because I am on
the dance floor suddenly, and he is against my ass.

I do a mental checklist of my night so far. I am in a gay bar but I am very much
straight, dancing with a giant man who thinks I'm pretty, holding a Tom Collins
that a gorgeous bar wench made for me right before calling me a princess.

And I have been here a grand total of ten minutes. I wonder where Garrett is, if
he and Katie-Watie are having an awesome time mingling. I hope he is cringing
at all of the penises grinding on each other. It doesn't even matter, though. I am
having a mental breakdown. I think I should have let Garrett just beat my face
in.

"I'm Emmett," the guy says suddenly, tonguing my ear again.

"Edward," I say shortly. Can't he tell I'm not really dancing? Can't he feel how I
cringe every time his leather pants come in to contact with my denim-clad ass?

"Let's go dance in the cages, Edward," he murmurs. "I need to show you off.
Everyone is so jealous of me tonight."

Cages. CAGES? No. I draw the fucking line at cages. Where is Garrett? He won't
know if I decline.

"Actually, I really have to take a piss," I say, and then escape quickly in that
direction.

I finally find the men's bathroom, and it's locked. I groan and curse.

"You don't want to go in there anyway," says a female voice behind me. "Unless
you like watching."

"Watching men pee?" I ask, turning around.

There's a woman there, leaning against a table, smoking. "No," she laughs. "You
don't go in to the men's restroom here to pee. You go in to the men's restroom to
have gratuitous sex and snort lines. You go to the women's restroom for peeing.
Is this your first time here?"

I nod. "Yeah, I got dragged here by a friend."

"Are you straight?" she asks, her voice suddenly sharp. "You don't really have the
mannerisms of a gay man."

"Uh, no, I'm… gay," I say, and a part of me dies. "I'm just… shy."

"Ah," she says, taking another drag. "Fresh out of the closet, huh?"

"You have no idea," I tell her. "So… the women's bathroom?"

She nods. "Yeah. I'll take you there. I have to take a leak myself. Just let me
finish up my cigarette."

"Okay," I agree. We're thrown into silence, and I wish briefly that I could see her
better. Everything is dark, and except for the random flash of strobe, I can't see
two feet in front of me. Her voice is nice, kind of low.

She stubs out her cigarette, and then takes me by the hand. It's soft and
feminine and I bet she smells good. "Let's go," she says, and then leads me
through the crowd. "I'm Bella, by the way."

Bella. For some reason, I start singing, "Under my um-bella, ella, ella, eh, eh,
eh…"

And she laughs and looks back at me. "Okay, I'm convinced. Only a gay man
would make my name in to a Rihanna song."

That shuts me up immediately. I want to get an erection, rip off my pants and
beat her in the face with it. No, too violent. Just make her look at it, touch it,
keep it hard for her, just to prove that I am one hundred percent without a doubt
–

"So gay," I find myself saying. "I was dancing with this huge guy earlier… yum."

Yum. YUM?

"I saw," she laughs. "That's Emmett. He's the fag to my hag. You should have
seen him when you walked in. His dick was a compass and you were magnetic
North."

I make a noise that could be a laugh and could be a sob. We make it to the
women's restroom, and I piss, and try not to listen to her in the next stall. Why
am I freaking the fuck out about this?

I come out, and she's washing her hands. She grins at me in the mirror, and I
really see her for the first time. She has dark hair, a cute face, a thin waist, a flat
ass, but great tits. They are spilling out of her top.

"I never caught your name," she says, messing with her hair in the mirror and
wiping under her eye.

"Edward," I tell her, moving forward to wash my hands. I get a whiff of her, but
she just smells like smoke.

"Well, Edward," she says, smiling at me. Her teeth are pretty – white and
straight. "Let me buy your pansy ass a drink, and we can talk Emmett."

Thirty minutes later, Bella and I are hammered. She keeps talking about what
assholes guys are, and I keep agreeing, and calling her honey. She loves it, says
I am the best, that I understand guys so well.

"And then," she slurs, taking a sip of her drink, "when I am done explaining why I
love On the Road, guess what this jackass is doing?"

"Staring at your tits?" I ask, because that is exactly what I have been doing this
whole time. Except she probably thinks I am admiring her long necklace. This
might have some perks to it.

"Yes," she growls. "Can you believe it, Edward? It's not like we go around asking
for that attention."

"Honey," I say, and I almost don't care how gay I sound, "you shove those bad
boys out of your shirt, and a guy's going to look. Come on, now. That's like
waving wine in front of an alcoholic."

"No," she says after a minute of looking thoughtful. "No, that's still not right. I
can't help it. I don't do that. I just want to look pretty, and most pretty things
have low cut tops. You know?"

No, I don't know. But I'm nodding, because she's so cute, so smart. She's
nowhere near the hottest girl around, but she's interesting. I want to know more.
I can tell that she's one of those girls who are pretty in the morning, without any
makeup and bed head.

Then I feel a hand on my thigh, and it's not soft and feminine. It's big and
domineering and inching up slowly.

"Whoa, big man," I say, oh my god, big man? "The mouth has to talk before the
hands can."

Where. Did. That. Come. From?

But Bella is laughing, swatting at Emmett. "We were just talking about
objectification, and then you start that? Bad Bear Gay."

I choke on my drink. "Bear Gay?"

Bella giggles. "Have you seen Inglorious Basterds? The Bear Jew? I don't know, I
started calling him The Bear Gay one day, and it stuck." She's shrugging,
grinning a bit.

I laugh. I laugh so hard I feel like I'm falling. Oops, I am falling. Oops, a big
strong man helped me up. Oops, he touched my penis. Oops, I hate my life.

We start talking again, and Bella mentions how she is new to the area and is
crashing on Emmett's couch for the time being. I wish I could kick Garrett out, so
he and his precious Kate-Kate could mate-mate without me listening, but what
can I do?

Besides, how could that work? Bella hates straight men. She has made this point
abundantly clear to me throughout the night, and after tonight, it will be
abundantly clear that I am straight. I plan on getting her number and then calling
her tomorrow with a funny story, 'hey, guess what? I'm not actually gay…' and
hoping she will find it hilarious.

"Straight men are nothing but lying jackasses," Bella says randomly, like she is
reading my thoughts. Oh, I am so fucked. Oh, I like her.

"Oh, shut up," Emmett says, making a 'talk talk talk' motion with his hands.
"God, I am so sick of you getting drunk and whining about men. Shut. The. Fuck.
Up. Okay? Go lesbian. Go abstinent. Or go home. Done. I am done."

Bella just rolls her eyes. I am fascinated. Can gay men really get away with
talking to a girl like that?

"Seriously," I say, toasting Emmett. "It sounds like you either need some really
good cock, or to find a puss you really love."

She waves her middle finger at me, but I can tell it's with affection. Oh god, the
power.

"Just the thought of that much vagina is grossing me out," says Emmett with a
grimace. "New subject, please."

Bella turns to us. "Yeah, how about how cute you two are?"

"So cute," says Emmett, squeezing my butt. "So cute, I need to take this hottie
away for a moment. Give us a second, Bell?"

"Sluts," she chides, but raises her glass to us as we walk away.

We find a dark corner, and I am panicking. No amount of alcohol will ever make
this okay. I'm about to plead my case like the pussy I am, but Emmett does it for
me.

"Okay, cut the father fucking shit. You aren't gay."

"No, I'm not," I say slowly, my whole body sagging. "Is it that obvious?"

Emmett taps his forehead. "Gaydar. Every queer comes with one. So, what are
you doing? And why are you misleading my girl?"

"Please don't tell Bella," I plead. This girl is under my skin already. "She'll hate
me. She hates straight men."

His eyebrows crinkle. "Why does it matter? You've known her for an hour."

"It just does," I say.

He shrugs. "Whatever, steer clear queer. Your party."

We head back, and the girl charms me. I never want to stop talking to her, and
when the night ends and Garrett is dragging me out, I get her number. She
makes me swear I'll call her, and when I swear, I really mean it. Tomorrow,
even. Tomorrow, I'll tell her. Tomorrow, she'll tell me she knew. Tomorrow, we'll
fuck until I can't even breathe, and then I'll do something sweet, like buy her ice
cream and try not to stare at her tits while she talks.

The next day, I wake up with a hangover. I roll out of bed, and Garrett is
throwing shit in random suitcases and boxes.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I ask.

The fucker is moving out, moving in with Kate Kate. They decided randomly last
night, and he can't wait to get out this morning. He says he'll pay his half of the
rent for the next month, and then he's gone, out the door. He says he'll be back
for the rest of his stuff later.

Then my phone is out, and I'm texting the girl I've thought about all night.

I need a roommate. Care to leave the couch?

When she texts me back, I want to laugh and cry at the same time.

U are my new favorite gay.

I have to tell her. I open my phone to respond, to tell her that we need to talk,
that last night was just a hoax, that I was playing a part. But instead, I say
something that fucks me, that cements me as the biggest idiot ever in the history
of the universe.

Good. Tell Emmett he is done for. I need a hag to my fag.

I hate myself.

In which I make bad analogies

Bella's stuff smells so good. I'm trailing behind her, acting like I'm helping her
carry things, but I'm sure she notices that I only have her travel bag in my hand.
In reality, I'm sniffing everything she owns. Are girls born smelling good? Guys
smell like beer and sweat and Mexican food if we don't shower. But Bella is
sweaty with exertion, and still she smells so sweet.

Emmett is somewhere in my – our – apartment, being the Bear Gay that he is,
huffing and puffing and grabbing my package every time he can. Yes, he knows
I'm not gay. Yes, he's doing this to make me uncomfortable. Yes, I smile and act
like I'm hard.

Bella eventually got tired of that, called us disgusting and went to set up her
room. Why is Emmett here, and why is he supporting me? I don't know, but I'm

almost afraid to ask. I bet he gets off on these things, watching straight men
squirm.

He grabs a banana off my counter and eats it leisurely, smirking at me with
mouthfuls of potassium. He is not hitting on me. He is watching me, waiting for
my reaction. He is trying to make me die, just fucking die.

"Okay, look," I say finally, slamming my hands down on the counter. "Do you
want to hear the hilarious part of this?"

"That you're pretending to be a homo, when you're a no-mo? That you're
deceiving my best girl just because you think she's awesome and she hates
anything with a dick that doesn't prefer other dicks?"

"That's not the hilarious part."

"Wrong."

"Dude, okay. Garrett moved out because Kate-Kate said that was the only way
he'd never have to go back to the Golden Nugget. Apparently, there are pictures.
He got super drunk, and leather got involved. I don't know. But Kate-Kate has
the pictures, and so officially she has his nuts. On the other hand, I have a
relatively un-fucking-eventful night, and now I am also moving in with a girl who
I am lying to about my sexuality."

"Garrett is gay?"

"Did I not say there was leather involved?"

"Oh. Right. Okay, steer clear queer, what's the point?"

"There is no point. I'm freaking out. Why are you helping me?" I am grasping at
my hair. I can feel it turning grey under my fingers. STOP PAYING ATTENTION TO
YOUR HAIR, CULLEN.

He shrugs. "I don't know. I guess I am just really amused by all of this. I mean,
she's bound to find out eventually, right?"

"Won't she be pissed? I'd be pissed. Why am I doing this? I have to go tell her."

Emmett grabs my arm. "Whoa there, Romeo. Let's not be too hasty here.
Something this juicy hasn't happened in my life in too long to let you ruin it."

Bella walks in then, her hair up and so pretty. She's grinning at both of us, and I
find myself grinning back. It's been a week since I asked her to move in with me,
and every day since then, we've done something little – grabbing coffee or
talking on the phone, just to get to know each other better.

She's just as cool sober as she is drunk. I really, really like her.

"Am I going to be able to leave you two alone for more than five minutes without
worrying about getting jizz on my countertop?"

Oh. But then, there's that.

"Am I going to be able to be alone with you for five minutes without wanting to
jizz on my countertop?"

That just came out of my mouth. Oh my god. She is staring at me like I am
morphing into RuPaul. What do I say? Fuck. Fuck.

"Are you sure you don't like women, weirdo?" she asks finally, tugging on her
ponytail.

Then, I am struck with brilliance. I am BISEXUAL. Yes, oh golden gods of
bisexuality. You allow me to play this part, yet still suck on her –

"I am bi – "

"By no means attracted to women!" Emmett says suddenly, cutting across me.
"It's all about the cock for Edward, here. Big, juicy cock, all night long."

Bella wrinkles her nose at both of us. "Really, you two? I don't understand all this
fascination with cock, anyway. It's usually attached to a big, sweaty asshole who
comes too quickly. The only cock I need is the kind that vibrates."

Did she just say she has a vibrator? She is going to be vibrating herself in my
apartment? Someone up there loves me. Or hates me. Or both.

"You brought the Bunny?" Emmett laughs. He can probably hear my erection
growing.

Bella shrugs. "Anything to make myself feel more at home, right? And no,
Edward, I'm not telling you where I keep it. I don't want to come back home one
day and find it in your room next to a bottle of Astro-glide."

"You're a bottom, Cullen?" Emmett asks. "Well, well. Will wonders never cease? It
just so happens that I am a top, and I am out of Astro-glide. Lead the way."

Bella rolls her eyes at us, and then goes back into her room.

"Why," I croak. "Why did you do that to me? I had the perfect out."

"Cut the shit, Cullen," he says suddenly, becoming very commander-like on me.
"You chose to tell this girl you're gay. You suck at being gay, and she's going to
figure it out eventually. What are you going to do when that happens?"

"Beg her to forgive me? Show her why I'm awesome at being straight, and that
not all dicks are attached to guys who come too quickly?"

Emmett rolls his eyes. "Listen, Steer Clear, I like you, and I love Bella. I think she
needs some jostling in her life. She's completely irrational in her hatred towards
men. If she didn't talk about nothing but American authors and the clearance
racks at Old Navy, guys wouldn't zone her out and stare at her breasts all night. I
think we can teach her a little something."

"So, I'm going to act like I'm gay to teach her what men like? Is that why you're
helping me?"

"I'm helping you help her. Bella is awesome. But she's so awkward when she first
gets around a guy, so they high-tale it out of there." Emmett shrugs.

"She wasn't with me," I protest.

"She thinks you're gay, Steer," he reminds me.

So, I am going to act gay to help get Bella to be less awkward around men, when
in reality she is already really awesome and I want her so bad.

"What do I have to do?" I ask.

He shrugs. "You're a horrible excuse for a straight man pretending to be gay. Let
me gay you up. I can be your gay tutor. Your gaytor."

And because I'm already fucked, I agree.

Bella cooks us a housewarming meal. This apartment of mine has not seen a
woman like this, one that cooks and laughs and makes me laugh in return.

I sit at the bar while she goes back and forth between pots and pans, stirring
here, flipping there, tasting here. She has music playing, some light jazz that I
actually enjoy, and I don't think I've smiled so much during one day in… a really
long time.

"Don't get spoiled," she says, turning off the stove and placing the pot on a
different burner. She wipes her forehead that is beaded with sweat, and she's so
fucking pretty. "I can't cook like this every day, but you taking me in like this is
worthy of a home cooked meal."

It's something Italian, with noodles and sauce and cheese, and it's delicious. I
don't have any wine, and she laughs and says that she would love a lager, if I
have any. I have Harp in the fridge, so we sit down at my – our – small table and
drink beer and eat cheesy, tomatoey deliciousness.

"Really, Edward," she says after a moment. "I can't tell you how thankful I am for
a place to stay. I just got a job last Friday, so I'll be able to start paying rent
whenever you need me to."

I shrug. "Garrett – my old roommate – is paying for this month, so use your
money to buy yourself some furniture, or groceries you need, or anything you
want to make yourself more comfortable."

She nods and smiles, and she has a black fleck of pepper in her teeth. As a guy, I
don't care. But would a gay man?

"You have a peppercorn the size of a rock in your teeth," I tell her, flourishing my
fork in her direction.

She drops her fork and laughs. "I always get something in them – is it between
my two front teeth?"

"Yes," I say, laughing at the way she's trying to dig it out with her blunt nails.

"I have a gap," she explains. "It's hardly noticeable, but I always get shit caught
in there. It's embarrassing." She leans forward. "See?"

No, Bella, I can't see. You're so hot, so fine just as you are. You smell so good.
How do you hide the cigarette smoke? I see you puffing out there. I see you
stealing my menthols.

But I nod. "Did you ever think about braces?"

"I had them," she says, digging back into her pasta. "I just didn't wear my
retainer like a good girl, so my teeth shifted a bit." She shrugs. "They're straight
enough where it doesn't bother me."

I've already found out the basic stuff about her. She's twenty-three, like me.
She's fresh out of college, taking a year off before going to grad school. She
majored in humanities, and she has no clue what she wants to do with it. She got
a job as a waitress at some high-end restaurant downtown. She's from a small

town three hours away from where we are in Seattle, and always laughs when
my Chicago accent comes out.

"The real question is," she says after a pause, "are we going to be Will and Grace
or Karen and Jack?"

"Will and Grace," I say immediately. "He's the one that acts… you know… kind of
straight. Where you're always guessing if they're going to end up together…"

I feel totally transparent saying this. Like, I might as well just tattoo my cock
with "vagina rides only." But she nods, like I make a shit ton of sense.

"Yeah," she says. "That's good. If people think we're together, then that will ward
off the gross men."

Emmett was right. What is wrong with this beautiful, weird girl?

"Men are not gross," I tell her. It sounds like I am championing my preferred
flavor, when in reality, I am offended.

She just gives me a look, like she wants to tell me exactly why men are gross,
but respects that I still have a penis.

"Women are gross," I try, and another part of me dies.

Her eyebrows rise. "Beg pardon?"

"Gross," I punctuate, stabbing at my pasta. "With all of your… vaginas… pink,
and… it's like getting lost backstage and floundering with the curtains,
suffocating…"

What am I saying? I love getting lost in vaginas. Vaginas are like a grown man's
ball pit at Chuck-E-Cheese. You just have to dive right in. Maybe there's a snake
down there, but you don't even care. You just have to get yourself covered
immediately, buried deep, balls deep… oh god, this analogy is awful…

"Oh really?" she says. "Is that why you're gay? Because vaginas intimidate you?"

"No," I say defensively. How do I answer this? "Is that why you hate men?
Because you love vaginas a little too much?"

She glares at me from across the table. She's actually kind of scary. As scary as a
five foot four little thing can be. Aren't gay men supposed to be intimidating? I
can do this.

"Don't get rude," I say, snapping my fingers. It's not a total flourish-y snap, but it
works, I think.

"Ugh," she says, rolling her eyes. "You and Emmett have been spending too
much time together."

I shrug. "Intimidated by cocks, check."

"I. Am. Not." She stands up from the table.

"Yes, you are," I taunt, standing up and gathering our plates. "Don't worry, Bella.
The cockasaurus is a vegetarian. It'll love your bush."

She makes this noise that's like a groan and a scream. She's telling me she's
exasperated, but I'm past that point. Now I'm just flirting with the girl.

"See? You love him already. What a noise. Rawr."

She flips me the bird from the sink, and I want to take her up on that. Oh, poor
girl, you have no idea what I want to do to you and your smart mouth.

"That's okay," I sing into her ear. "I'll teach you, Bella. Penises are glorious
things." She has no idea that inches behind her back, mine is hard.

"And how are you going to teach me that, hater of pink curtains?" she shoots
back, throwing a dish towel at me to help the washing/drying process.

I shrug, unsure of how to answer. "I…" I wipe a plate, and then set it on the
counter. "I just want to show you that all straight men aren't dogs."

And by doing that, I'm going to show you how to loosen up, and be yourself
around everyone, Bella. Everyone is going to love you. Guys are going to flock to
you, with your sweet smelling skin and cooking skills. And it's going to be all
thanks to me, the straight guy that can never, ever have you.

In which I never win

Where the fuck am I? There are soft boobs pressed against my chest, and they
are swaying to the beat I hear in my ears. There is some sort of drink in my
hand, and I am dancing with my hips only, because yeah, the girls like that pelvic
action. I can't remember how I got here, or where I'm going, or what my name
is.

"Wardo?"

Oh, right. I'm Wardo. Rather, my dick is Wardo. Well, same thing. Last semester,
my roommate walked in on me getting head while wearing nothing but a 'Where's
Waldo'-esque sweater, so being the fucking clever guy he is, I was dubbed
Wardo. And whenever he wants me to come club hopping with him, he screams
'WHERE'S WARDO?' into the phone whenever I answer.

That's how this night started, with a scream. And because I can't figure out
where I am or what I'm doing beyond the fact I am definitely getting my dick
wet, I am determined for the night to end with a scream, too.

"Wardo? Dude, what are you doing? You can't do that here, bro. There are rules,
and security. HA! Dude! DUDE! Put that back in your – whoa, bro…"

Why can't I take my dick out, Jasper? It's so tight, so confined in my jeans. It
just wants to be free, a free… you know, a free willy!

"FREE WILLY?" I shout, which gets a bunch of shouts from bros all around,
toasting each other and fist bumping. My cock is out in my hand, and I'm so
drunk, I'm rubbing it all over this girl, and she's loving it.

The next thirty minutes are a blur, but a taxi cab pulls away from the curb and
I'm making out with the girl, my hands fisting her tits and she's biting and
moaning against my tongue and my cock is back in my pants, but not for long.
We make it up the stairs to my door, and I grind against her hot little body for a
minute, and then I let myself in, with fistfuls of tits.

Then we're against my couch, and something tells me I shouldn't be doing this,
but I can't remember why. All I can feel is tiny hands against my jeans, and a
bubblegum tongue in my mouth, and I haven't gotten laid for weeks, so who am I
to stop this?

"Edward?"

My brain hears a voice I know, but can't place. It's so sweet, so sleepy, and I
want to follow it and buy it flowers and dinner, and then come all over its face.

"Edward, is that you?"

"Yes, Bella," I answer, breaking away from the girl's mouth for a second to
answer. Clearly my subconscious recognizes who is calling my name before the
rest of me does. Bella, Bella, Bella… so pretty, so smart…

A light flicks on, and footsteps start making their way down the hall. I hum to
myself, so happy – a girl is rubbing my dick through my jeans, and Bella is here…

Then everything hits me. "Shit!" I force the girl down behind the couch, where
she is invisible to Bella's line of vision. She comes around the corner not two
seconds later.

"What are you doing?" Bella asks. Her hair is up and her nose is scrunched, and
she looks so warm and sleepy.

"Thinking," I say, when clearly I am not, because I have just shoved a drunk girl
down to her knees in front of my crotch. Small, warm hands unzip my fly, and
then small warm hands wrap themselves around my… my –

"Thinking about what?" asks Bella, moving closer into the living room and
switching on the light. "I'm hungry… do you want a grilled cheese?"

"Yes," I say automatically, because I do. Her grilled cheeses are so delicious, with
three different kinds of gooey cheese and maybe some chopped up ham and a
tomato slice and – "Fuuuuuck." There is mouth around my cock. A mouth around
my cock, hot and warm and oh my god.

"What's wrong?" She sounds genuinely concerned, as am I. I want to slap this
girl in the face for blowing me in the middle of my living room with my roommate
right here, my roommate with the grilled cheese and the soft hands and the tug-
able nipples that I see through her nightshirt. "Edward, are you okay? You look
really sick. You sound like you're going to vomit. Do you need anything?"

"I…" have a girl Hoovering my cock right now, Bella… "stubbed my toe. I need a
band-aid. Quick! It's bleeding! I think I'm going to bleed out!"

She looks at me, alarmed. She must see how white my face is, and how much my
voice is rising at an alarming decibel. She darts out of the kitchen and down the
hall, and I take the time to pick the girl up by her shoulder, throw a twenty at her
and kick her out of my apartment.

I close the door just as Bella walks back in the living room, a pack of band-aids
and a huge tube of Neosporin in her hand. "Come on, let's fix you up – what did
you stub it on?"

"Oh, um…" I don't have a stubbed toe, or a cut. Just an erection that's slick with
spit sticking to my leg, and a buzz that is dwindling. "One second…" I walk back
outside and take a couple gulps of fresh air. I'm an idiot. I have been calling

myself an idiot so much lately, I'm surprised I haven't started losing basic motor
functions.

The more I know about Bella, the more I like about her. Sure, she does annoying
roommate woman-y things like clip her toenails on my couch, hang her bras over
the bathroom door handle, make everything smell wonderful, cook me delicious
meals… uh.

I crouch down and pull out my pocket knife, about to do something so
unbelievably stupid, I'm questioning everything I have ever learned. I am about
to make a wound on myself so a) I don't have to explain what all the moaning
was about and b) so Bella has an excuse to touch me.

I bite my lip as the knife makes a small gash on my big toe. I limp back inside,
where Bella is standing, looking ridiculously worried.

"Are you all right?" she asks for what seems like the millionth time. "You act so
strange sometimes. Are you a drug dealer?" But she's smiling at me, teasing me
in my drunken state. "Oh my GOD, Edward – you're bleeding everywhere, holy
shit! Did you stub your toe on razors? Get off my rug!"

I leap off of her rug and onto the wooden floors. I am bleeding a lot more than I
thought I was. Hmmm, my knife is so sharp. Good job, Dad. You picked out a
great one for killing muggers and juvenile delinquents… Oh, I am so sleepy…

I wake up suddenly, and there is light everywhere. I hiss away from it like I am
Lestat, burning in the intense rays. I am nearly naked except for whitey tighties
that I most definitely was not wearing last night, and there is a giant penis drawn
on my chest. I sigh – this is not the worst I've ever been waking up. There is a
trash can by my bed, and – yep – I puked last night.

I sit up and run my hands through my hair, trying to gather what the fuck
happened. I remember being invited out by Jasper, my roommate last semester.
We went to a club – not a gay one – and there were girls, so many girls. A cute
little blonde and I danced and then – oh.

There is a bright pink band-aid on my toe. Blood has soaked through it, but I
don't care. Bella put that on my toe. My hairy hobbit toe.

My door bangs open, and in walks Emmett. I groan and slump back onto the bed
– no, no, no, no. It's too early for the Bear Gay.

"Well, well, well," he says, putting his ham hocks on my chest. "X marks the spot,
non? A little tryst last night, my faux friend?"

"I don't speak French," I mutter, my head under my pillow. "Why am I dressed
like a five year old who wet his pants? Where are my sheets?"

"Bella called me last night at around two. You passed out on the floor –
apparently, blood makes you squeamish – and she couldn't move you. You
needed a man handling." He grins, delighted. "Plus, you were acting like a five
year old who wets his pants. We put a puppy pad under you so you wouldn't ruin
everything."

"This is my apartment to ruin," I grouse, rolling over. "Go away."

"How did you cut your toe like that, anyway? Bella says you stubbed it."

Suddenly, the whole story is pouring out of me. I tell him everything, even about
the girl flogging my log while Bella was ten feet from me. He stares at me for a
good thirty seconds before laughing.

"What is it with you, Steer Clear?" he asks eventually, tracing the penis drawn on
my chest with one of his claws.

I shove his hand away. "What?"

"Can you not keep yourself out of stupid situations? You cut your own toe with a
knife. Really? Why didn't you just tell Bella you had a dude down there, and you
were embarrassed?"

"Bella's already really fucking sketchy about me being… you know. She wants all
the details. How old was I when I knew? What was my boyfriend's first name?
What's my favorite kind of ass lube? I don't even – "

"What did you tell her?"

"That only my diary knows those answers."

"And the gay continues."

There's a soft knock on my door, and Bella comes padding in. She's in a t-shirt
and black cotton underwear-short things, and her legs are so long, like two
vanilla popsicles. She crawls into bed next to me and lays her head on my chest.
She yawns and hides her mouth, to cover her morning breath.

"What are we doing today?" she asks me, her hair so soft against me. "I'm off
work, and I want to get out of the house."

"I have to work," I say, because I do.

I only work a couple times a week at a novelty bookstore my older sister owns,
just to help her out. The rent and every cent I get by on comes from my parents,
who agree to continue to pay for me as long as I'm a full time student.

Bella pouts and rubs her cheek along my chest absently. I don't want to see her
pout. I hate pout. You caused that pout, Cullen.

"But I can call in," I say quickly.

She sits up quickly, and I miss her small warmth. "You can? Promise? We can
have a girl's day!"

Emmett laughs and walks out of the room.

Alice is pissed that I skip out of work, but then I make the mistake of telling her
it's for a girl. She's happy as can be then, and I wonder if her mood stabilizers
are working as well as she says they are.

"Bring her by!" she demands into the phone, and then hangs up before I can tell
her no.

I have been pretty successful at keeping Bella away from friends and family up to
this point. Alice moved to Seattle with me, but other than that, most of my
friends still reside in Chicago. I only really knew Garrett, but otherwise kept to
myself except for the nights that I got lonely and ventured out for… "company."
In fact, a majority of the friends I've met are now under the impression I'm gay,
so the hang ups – save for the night previously – have been few and far between.

I consider my problem as Bella chatters away happily next to me. We walk down
the street in downtown Seattle, and she has her hand tucked into my arm. I've
never known such contentment, but it has come at such a high price – my
dignity.

We duck into a door, and it takes me a minute to register where I am. There are
chairs connected to little tubs, and a few desks set up with small fans on them.
There are cheesy pictures on the wall with women holding roses, their bright red
nails on display. The whole place reeks of that shit Alice uses to take off fingernail
polish, and then it hits me.

"Two pedicures, please," says Bella to the tiny woman who asks what she can do
for us. Bella looks up at me, and she must see my face. "Oh, it's my treat,
Edward. Help me pick out a color!"

My eyes widen as she leads me towards shelves upon shelves of nail polish.
Some of these colors cannot exist naturally.

"I wear a lot of black," Bella says, her eyes roaming over the colors. "I want
something that will match it at all times without being obnoxious and too loud.
What do you think? You always dress so well."

No, little girl. I pick up the first thing I see, and then Emmett comes over and
yells at me.

"Um," I say. "This one." I grab at a green-yellow color that looks like baby shit.

She laughs. "Be serious, Edward."

Okay. Okay. Good. Another chance to choose. "This one. Definitely." It's a bright
pink with sparkles. Chicks love when things sparkle. Sparkling is good. Sparkling
is natural, right? Emmett sparkles whenever we go out. He tried to make me
sparkle last time we went out to dinner, but I had to nip that shit in the bud. I
draw the line at sparkling.

She just rolls her eyes at me. "You're always trying to make things hard for me."

You make things hard for me too, pretty girl. "No, I'm not. I'm just – "

"Being difficult. Choose one, asshole."

"This one," I say, hoping it's the right answer this time. There is a scary Asian
woman staring at me, pointing at the tub.

"Oh, that's so pretty!" gushes Bella. "I knew you wouldn't let me down."

We are led over to the chairs, and I stick my feet in the warm water. It actually
feels kind of nice, just sitting there. I look over at Bella and grin at her. She's
texting and trying to not to laugh at the technician touching her feet.

"I'm ticklish," she explains. "I just texted Emmett and told him what we're doing.
He says he's really jealous."

"Oh, I bet," I say under my breath. Not even ten seconds later, my phone buzzes
in my pants. I take it out and open my text message from – big surprise –
Emmett.

HAHAHAH is all it says.

As the nice lady with the clippers starts cutting away at the layers of dead skin on
my toes, I turn to Bella. She looks so relaxed, leaning against the massage
chairs. I watch her tits sway with the wave of the massage for a couple seconds.

"How's work?" I ask her, just so I can hear her talk.

"Okay," she answers, smiling a bit at me. "I know I come home smelling like a
greasy mess every night."

"It doesn't bother me," I say honestly. "I'm used to guy smell – we all have some
kind of enzyme that guarantees we smell like what we just ate."

She laughs. "You don't ever smell bad. Your bed always smells so good. I
seriously want to roll around in your sheets sometimes."

Why? WHY?

"Oh," I stammer. "Well, I mean. You can. I don't mind. It would be nice having a
vagina in my bed sometimes."

She rolls her eyes at me. "Yeah, I'm sure you get tired of all the penis you see."
No, Bella. I'm just tired of the lack of your vagina I see. "Emmett has told me
about all the guys you bring home while I'm asleep. You must gag them, because
I never hear a peep."

Do you know why you never hear a peep, Bella? Because I thrash my dick
frantically, so fast it feels like I'm blistering myself, to the raunchiest porn I can
find. Sometimes, I'll just freeze a porn on a frame of a woman's vagina, because
I think I've forgotten what one looks like.

"So," I start again, "why did you move to Seattle?"

She gets quiet, like I've asked the daily double on Jeopardy. "I just needed a
change," she says finally. "Small town life was getting the best of me. Forks is
home, but it's also a dead end. Things change, and so do people – so I had to
decide whether I wanted to change with them or change on my own terms. So, I
left."

I nod like it all makes sense, but she's being intentionally vague. Whatever. I can
play that game, too, Bella. What were you doing just now, Edward? Why are your
hands in your pants? Oh, just scratching an itch, Bella…

"Why did you?" she wonders, turning those big brown eyes on me.

I shrug. I'm about to answer, but then I see the girl working on my feet take out
this thing that looks like a potato peeler.

"What the hell is that?" I demand, moving my foot away and splashing the girl
with a bit of water.

Bella laughs. "Relax, Edward. You act like you've never gotten a pedicure before."

"What are you doing with that?" I ask the lady, ignoring Bella completely.

The lady ignores me in turn. She picks up my heel and starts going at it like a
cheese grater. Dead skin is flying off everywhere.

"So?" Bella prods. "Why did you move? Chicago is a long ways away."

"I wanted to be close to the coast," I answer, still giving the lady the side-eye.
"Uh, and I hate California."

"So does Emmett," says Bella. "He caught chlamydia one weekend in San
Francisco, and vowed to never go back."

I grin. Oh, this is great news. As Bella and I finish up, I break out my phone
again.

I hear your penis was sick.

I get a reply from Emmett almost instantaneously.

It may still be. Can you kiss it and make it better?

I put my phone away, chastised.

I am beginning to see that I can't ever win. Then, Bella mumbles something
about bra shopping and needing my honest opinion.

Well, sometimes I win.

In which I learn the meaning of altruism

We walk into our apartment and Emmett is sitting on the couch, smirking at us –
me – with his Neanderthal chin all chucked up.

"How was shopping, ladies?"

My face turns to stone behind Bella's back, and I level a stare at him that means
I'm not in the mood for his games.

"What's wrong, Edward? Did you eat broccoli again? You look a little constipated."

"Leave him alone," says Bella, dropping her purchases in Emmett's lap. "I've put
him through the ringer. He told me that he's never been out shopping like that
before. I can't imagine what his ex-hag had him doing."

"I don't have an ex-hag," I say, moving to the kitchen. I want beer, and I want to
let out the grossest, smelliest belch I can muster. I open the fridge, ready for
reprieve.

Instead I see wine coolers and Smirnoff Ice.

"Where the FUCK is my beer?" I slam the fridge, and turn to Emmett, who is
deep-throating my last lager behind Bella's back. "That's it. I'm going to murder
you."

Bella turns to frown at Emmett. "Don't raid our fridge like that, asshole. What did
you do with the rest of it?"

Emmett shrugs. "I drank it, and then replaced it with drinks that I thought
Edward would like better. Don't be mad at me, Edward. I was only trying to help.
I'll make it up to you later."

"I'd rather stick my dick in a hornet's nest, you complete asshole."

Emmett leaps up. "Oh hell no, you did not just use that infected mouth to spew
insults at me."

"If it's infected, it's because you've been dipping your dick in my mouth every
night without my knowledge."

Emmett scales the couch, and in two strides, he's at me. Bella shoves him away
from me, and the beer in his hand goes flying. The bottle breaks against the
kitchen floor, and the smell of quickly de-carbonating Guinness hits the air.

"God damnit," she says, staring both of us down. "Why don't you two go play
slapsies somewhere else?"

"He started it!" I protest, waving my arms in Emmett's direction.

"And I'm finishing it. Get out of my kitchen." I hesitate, thinking I should remind
her that it's our kitchen. "NOW!"

I am about to scamper out of the kitchen with my tail between my legs, but my
dignity is saved by the doorbell. Glaring at Emmett, who is talking in a low voice
to Bella, I gingerly step over the glass and go to the door.

And it's Jasper.

"Who is it, Steer?" Emmett calls.

"Why do you even call him that?" Bella wonders, getting down on the floor to pick
up glass.

"Because I'm hung like a buck," I answer. "It's, ah… no one. Telemarketer."

"I didn't know Telemarketers made house calls." Emmett is grinning at me.

"Uh, no, I mean – you know – salesmen…"

"Dude, are you gonna open the door? I can fuckin' hear you, man!" It's Jasper
yelling at me from the outside.

So I let him in, and his eyes immediately go to Bella on her knees, scrubbing at
our kitchen floor.

"Yo," he says, his eyes following the curve of her ass. I snap my fingers in front
of his face to bring him back. "My phone's MIA, and I was in the neighborhood –
wanted to know if you guys wanted to come hang out tonight. My friend just
opened a bar downtown, and he needs all the people he can get."

"Uh…"

"And who's this?" Jasper asks, sweeping past me into the kitchen. "And why is
such a pretty girl down on her knees?"

At this point, I'm going to let Emmett do exactly what his eyes are telling me he
wants to do to Jasper, and then I'm going to take Bella and run.

"I'm Bella," she responds, holding her hand out to shake his.

I watch, fascinated. I've never seen Bella interact with a straight male before.

"I'm Jasper," he tells her, and holds her hand a little longer than necessary.

"I'm just cleaning up a little spill," she explains. "But that isn't what you meant,
was it? Do you think I'm too dim to understand a double entendre? In fact, not
only am I on my knees, I'm on my knees in the kitchen, cleaning! Isn't that a wet

dream of yours?" Her voice is rising to an alarming decibel, and both Emmett and
I start to run interference.

Jasper looks completely winded. I can't tell if he's frightened or turned on – or
turned on because he's frightened. I make it to the kitchen first, and clamp my
hand down on Bella's wrist.

"That's enough, sweetie," I say in my calmest voice. "Let the nice man go now." I
notice that she is the one that's been holding his hand – squeezing it, actually.
His fingers are turning a bit purple.

She lets him go, and I grab Jasper and lead him into the living room. Emmett
swoops down and calms Bella, who is scrubbing the kitchen floor with
unnecessary force.

"I think I'm in love," wheezes Jasper, who is peering around me to see into the
kitchen. "Is it okay if I steal your girlfriend, man?"

"She's not – " I stop in the middle of my protest. She's not what, Edward? " – in
to most guys… because they don't understand her." This is true.

"What's not to understand?" he questions. "She's fucking hot, and I want to do
bad things to that sassy little mouth of hers…"

"She doesn't like sex," I blurt.

"You're not hitting that?" Jasper asks me in disbelief, taking yet another look at
poor, unsuspecting Bella. All she's doing is scrubbing the floors on her hands and
knees, okay? Stop leering at her. She's cleaning our house. She's cleaning my
mess. She's beautiful. Stop it.

"No," I say, shaking my head. "We can't… we don't."

Jasper's wiry blonde eyebrows force themselves together. "Dude. I don't
understand."

I imagine there are a lot of things you don't understand, Jasper. Why one plus
one makes two, for instance. "Her... it... has teeth."

WHAT. WHAT JUST CAME OUT OF MY MOUTH?

Jasper's eyes bulge out of his head. He backs up several feet and runs into the
couch. "I thought that was just a myth." He is whispering.

"All the myths are true," I whisper back. "Just don't… tell anyone."

He shakes his head fervently. "I won't, dude. I won't. I want to forget – I can't
even – I don't… how do you do it?"

That's a really good question. "I just – she's just… she's amazing. It's hard not
to."

"Now I understand you bringing the girl home… I can't hate a man for wanting to
get some non-chomping pu – "

"Aaaaand that's enough," I say, grabbing his arm again and steering him towards
the door.

He takes an exceptionally wide berth around Bella, who is glaring at him – she
can think it's because of her ire – and then leaves without another word.

"So," I say after a moment's pause. "Anyone want a Smirnoff?"

Everyone wants a Smirnoff. And then, when Bella goes to shower – she smells
dangerously delicious, my own personal brand of alcohol – Emmett pulls me
aside.

"We need to go to your friend's bar opening," he says. "We have to start
integrating Bella back into straight male society. She nearly almost carved your
friends' testicles off with the broken glass she was holding. That's not okay
behavior."

"And you think taking her to a bar is going to help? It's full of guys like Jasper – "
And guys like I used to be, I think to myself – "and if that's how she reacts with
one, she's going to end up massacring every last one of them."

"Look," barters Emmett, after a moment of silence. "You promised me that we
would help her, and in return – I keep your secret to myself. I see the way you
look at her, and I know you don't want other guys coming around and replacing
you. But you signed on for this, Edward. Do you think I love watching Bella get
hurt? I might not be sexually attracted to her, but she's everything I've ever
wanted in a person – she just doesn't have the right parts. I know what you're
going through. But if we both care about her, we have to help her. We have to
want her to be happy, even if we both end up losing her to some jackass."

I'm momentarily speechless. I've never heard him speak so many words without
sarcasm, and I'm impressed by his speech. I'm also a bit depressed, thinking
about watching Bella ride off into the sunset with some asshole – and then it hits
me.

Even if she ever chooses me, I'll be the worst asshole of them all.

"Let's do it," I say, rubbing at my eyebrows. She's beautiful, and she's smart, and
she deserves someone who isn't lying to her – even if it is to keep her around.

Emmett pats me on the back, and we stand there in silence for a few moments.
Then I walk away to go get a shower.

I emerge from my room an hour later, dressed in what I think is acceptable bar
attire – jeans and a t-shirt – but Emmett takes one look at me and frog marches
me back into my room.

"The fuck?" I grouse as he flings me down onto the bed.

"Look at the way I'm dressed," he demands. He is in tight leather pants and a
white t-shirt with a bunk bed on it, with the words TOP OR BOTTOM? written
underneath.

"So?" I demand, trying to wrestle myself out of his grasp.

"Edward, DON'T TOUCH ME THERE," he shouts, and I instantly quiet.

"That's not playing fair."

"You can't go in there dressed like a straight man," he says to me, rummaging
through my sparse closet to find something suitable.

"You don't even live here," I remind him. "Why are you always here, invading my
personal space?"

"You can't get rid of me," he says, his voice muffled by the clothes. "Like mold."

"I was thinking more like herpes, but whatever. Why can't I dress like a straight
man?"

"The whole point of us taking Bella out tonight is so she can mingle and be seen.
If you're not dressed like you're gay, people – guys – are going to assume you're
her boyfriend, and won't approach her."

"Some will," I say defensively.

He throws me an awful look. "Not the kind of guys you and I want Bella to date,
Edward. Good men will see a relationship there, and will treat that boundary with
respect."

He has a point. "Okay, fine. Dress me, maestro."

"Can I undress you first?"

I ignore him, and hold my hands out for the shirt he's throwing my way. It's a
pink oxford shirt that I wear only on Easter with my parents.

"Are you kidding? No!" I throw it back at him.

He throws me a polo shirt next. That's not so bad. I can do a polo shirt.

"And pop the collar."

"I am not popping the collar. I am not a douche bag, nor am I g… Fuck. Emmett,
really?"

He stares at me, and then disappears for a moment. When he comes back, there
is a long pencil-like object in his hand.

"Eyeliner," he says, brandishing it at me like a weapon.

"There are people I'm going to know at this bar!"

"Well, it looks like you've come to a fork in the road, Steer. Choose the path of
least resistance. The inner gay, or the inner douche bag slash frat boy."

Bella peeks in my room then, her knocks soft against the door. "Are you guys
almost ready?"

"Almost," says Emmett, ushering her in.

She's wearing jeans and a black tank top – very close to what she was wearing
the first night I met her. Before I can stop myself, I say:

"And what in the name of Carson Kressley do you think you're wearing?"

Emmett stares at me, stunned. We don't even hear Bella's lame excuse for her
outfit, because we're both too busy being completely blindsided by my Queer Eye
for the Straight Guy reference.

I recover quickly. "You're trying to attract men, not scare them with your testicle
crunching combat boots."

"I'm not wearing combat boots," she protests, but it's my turn to frog march
someone back into their own room.

I sit her down on her bed and flit through her closet. The sweat is pouring down
my face – what the fuck do I know about girls' fashion? I find a dress in the back
– it's cotton and it's black but it's sexy as all hell and so I throw it at her.

"This is what you're wearing. Change."

She stares at me, and I stare back at her. She's waiting for me to relent, and I'm
waiting for her to take my advice – the only good advice I've given her thus far.
She's going to be beautiful in this dress, if only she'll wear it.

"Fine," she says, and stands up. I expect her to move towards the bathroom, but
she starts stripping right in front of me.

Pretty soon she's in her bra and underwear – both are beige. I've seen more
expensive lingerie on more exotic women but something about her modest attire
has my cock beating at my pants to let it out.

She walks over to her dresser, mumbling something about a strapless bra. All the
blood is currently in my cock, so I don't understand what she's saying until her
bra drops to her ankles, and she's fumbling with the clasps of the strapless bra
she's holding.

"Can you help me?" she asks me, her bra backwards and her full, beautiful
breasts up over the strap she's struggling with.

I'm used to unclasping bras, and I'm pretty sure I could hammer nails with my
dick at this point, but I nod and move over to her.

I sweep her hair to the side and watch as it falls down in a dark curtain over her
left breast. Her skin is so smooth and white, like freshly beaten cream. She turns
her bra to face the front, and the cups move over her breasts, finally covering
them from my vision. I hook the bra together with ease, and then run my hands
down her arms.

"You're so beautiful, Bella," I whisper before I can stop myself. "Why can't you let
someone love you?"

She turns and smiles sadly at me. "I've tried," she tells me. "But I always love
too much, and they always love too little."

Emmett has hinted to me that she's been hurt, but he has said that even he
doesn't know the extent. I want to know her story, more than I want to know
anything – more than I want to know what it feels like to be inside of her. I want
to be her best friend, and her confidante. I want her to come to me first, instead
of Emmett. I want her to cry on my shoulder and let me brush her hair, and I
want her to fall asleep on me as I watch the millionth episode of the Walker:
Texas Ranger marathon.

On impulse, I cup her cheeks and kiss her on the forehead. Her hair tickles my
nose. Then I step back, because I know I've gotten too close.

"There's a sweet guy underneath all of that sarcasm, huh?" she jokes, and I know
the moment has passed.

"If you're talking about my witty repertoire – "

But I don't get a chance to finish, because she's put on the dress, and she's
perfect, just like I knew she would be.

Bella has an arm through each of our elbows as we walk into the bar. I can tell
she's nervous, because she's already asking us when we can go get a drink. I tell
her to relax, and I notice a few guys throw looks her way. I want to be proud to
have this beautiful girl on my arm, but the kind of pride I could let myself have
would be short-lived.

"Edward!" Jasper is calling my name, giving me the typical bro-hug. "I'm glad to
see that collar popped, man. Give in to the look!" He laughs, pointing to his own.

I can hear Emmett laughing behind me. I ignore him and nod with Jasper, who's
telling me that the first round of drinks are on him, and to just tell the bartender
who we're here with. This sounds excellent to me, and I know Bella is fiending for
a drink.

Bella says hello to him, and he steps back a couple feet when saying hi back. She
looks confused and a little hurt, and I feel like shit. So, I lead her to the bar and
we do a couple shots and the music is loud and I feel good.

I draw her onto the dance floor, and we dance to a cover version of "Don't Stop
Believing." I spin her and she laughs, and I see men laughing with her, following
the swirl of her hair as it spirals around her shoulders. But they're afraid to
approach, so I start singing along, loudly, obnoxiously – SOME WILL WIN, SOME
WILL LOSE, SOME WERE BORN TO SING THE BLUUUUUUUES – and she backs
away from me, looking for anyone to save her.

Someone does, a tall someone, and she takes his hand, and I go back to Emmett
and watch the girl I've fallen for dance with someone else.

After an hour of watching men charm Bella, I'm moody and drunk and go outside
to smoke. I sit down on the curb and watch people walk back and forth, laughing
and joking and stumbling. I pull a long drag off my Pall Mall and rub my brow
with the heel of my hand. This charade is getting more difficult by the hour, and
I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to be a neutral party around this girl.

I stub out my cigarette and I'm about to walk back in when there's a commotion.
I hear Emmett yell – I'd recognize that anywhere – and the bouncer rushes
inside. I follow on his heels, and I see Bella being carried bodily out by Emmett.
There's a guy on the ground – a different guy than I had seen before – and his
nose is bleeding. I look to Emmett for answers, but he's holding a sobbing Bella,
and lugs her right past me. I trail him all the way to the car, and I start it up in
silence, trying to ignore the quiet murmuring and Bella's sniffles in the backseat.

He puts her to bed when we get back to the apartment, and as soon as the door
shuts behind him, I pounce.

"What the fuck happened?"

"A drunk guy got fresh, and Bella freaked the fuck out."

"Why did you hit him?"

He raises his eyebrows at me. "I didn't. Bella did."

I scrub my face with my hands and choose not to comment any further. Drunk
guys in bars make harmless and sometimes a bit invasive passes on women all
the time. Most girls I know – even if they don't want the attention – find it to be
at the least flattering. Bella finds it threatening.

"Was she…" I can't force the word out, because thinking of anyone touching Bella,
hurting Bella –

Emmett shook his head. "No, nothing like that. She was just hurt really bad, and
it amplifies when she's drinking."

"She hit someone."

"She was a female that felt threatened by a man's presence. At least she has the
ability to protect herself. I don't know, Edward. Maybe she's just going to be a
fag hag for the rest of her life."

"She deserves better," I say sourly.

He regards me for a second. "Who? A man who has been lying to her?"

I feel my anger rise, but I can't even react. "No," I say after a moment. "Not
even me. That's how much she deserves – I can honestly say she deserves better
than me, too."

He nods, and I see a strange sort of respect form in his face. "As long as you
know that. I'm gonna head home."

"You sure you're okay to drive, man?"

He waves off my concerns, and then he's out the door.

I check on Bella one last time before I go to bed, and she's out cold. I go to my
own room and strip down to my boxers, too exhausted to hunt for pajamas. I
climb in my cold sheets and just lie there, waiting for my mind to go blessedly
blank.

My door creaks open, and that beautiful girl is standing there in a tank top and
those damn beige panties.

"Is Emmett gone?" she whispers.

"Yeah," I say back, my voice gruff from lack of use.

"Can I sleep with you?" Her voice is so small and alone, and I'm selfish, so I tell
her yes. She crawls in next to me and lays her head on my shoulder.

"Do you think I'm crazy?" she asks right before I drift off.

"I think you're perfect," I tell her, too drunk and exhausted to care.

She presses a kiss against my chest, and even though I don't remember it in the
morning, I wake up smiling.

I wander into the apartment after an exhausting day at work. What's so
exhausting about stocking bookshelves and ringing out customers? My sister,
that's what. If I could fire myself from my job just to spite her, I would.

A mutual friend of ours happened to see me at the Golden Nugget that one
fateful night, and reported to my sister that I was very happily dancing with a
man. I don't know how said person got happiness out of the total shit-my-pants
scared look I had on my face the whole night, but there we were.

She had demanded answers. I assured her I wasn't gay, only going to the gay
bar to appease my girlfriend. My girlfriend, Bella. Bella, the same girlfriend who
my sister invited herself over to meet the following night.

"Hi," I say gloomily, passing Bella on my way to my room. She waves; she's
cooking dinner and talking on the phone. She has no pants on. Does she have no
dignity?

I get to my room and strip down to my boxers, deciding two can play at that
game. I consider "accidentally" leaving my dick out, but stuff it back in at the last
moment. No need to have a very awkward situation on our hands – once she saw
It, she would reconsider everything she had ever known about herself. She would
be the lost soul, and my dick would be the Messiah.

"Dinner's ready!" she calls out, thankfully stopping my heartbreakingly incorrect
train of thought.

I trudge into the kitchen, and she stops with a bowl halfway to the table. "Did you
forget your clothes?"

"Did you?" I ask her sourly, slumping down into my seat.

"I spilled cream of mushroom all down the front of me, making your dinner," she
shoots back.

"Oh? Were you wearing every set of pants you owned at the time?"

She sits down slowly across from me, and then slides all of the food to her side of
the table. "Tell me what's wrong, or you're going to bed without supper."

That's kind of hot. Oh, yes. I've been a bad boywho' –

"Please?" she says again, her expression going softer, her lip between her teeth.
She shoves the food back in my direction as a peace offering of sorts, and I blow
out a hard breath and put my napkin in my lap.

"It's my sister," I start hesitantly, looking down at my dwindling erection. "She
has an exhibitionist streak and a bondage problem, and it's getting really
embarrassing to deal with." Ah, yep – there went the erection. Bye bye, see you
soon (hopefully).

"She WHAT – "

"Kidding!" I laugh, spooning some sort of cheesy goodness potato thing onto my
plate. "Just… you know. Kidding. Um. She – well. Her friend saw us at the
Nugget, and well…"

Bella's face is glowing with a soft, encouraging smile. I have to look at her for a
moment. She's so beautiful in so many different lights – when she's dressed up
and nervous, and when she's dressed down and carefree. But especially when
she's looking at me like that, like she can see right through me. It makes my
chest feel empty and heavy at the same time.

She hands me the salad bowl and then says quietly, "And you weren't ready for
her to know about your sexuality?"

I sigh deeply. I keep getting these perfect opportunities to take Bella's hand and
say, Look, I know what you think about straight men. But I know that you love
me. So maybe it's possible that you really can love a straight man.

But I know that I'm a coward, and I know she won't agree, and that she'll run out
of my life forever. I'm greedy and I'm selfish, but I want her to be around. I need
that more than I need most things.

"No," I say finally. "But that's not the only thing."

Drizzling balsamic vinaigrette over her salad, she nods to show that she's
listening.

"I told her in a moment of panic that you were my girlfriend." This is not a lie.
This is perhaps the first whole truth I've told in a long time.

Her head shoots up and the vial of dressing falls out of her hand. It hits the table
with a crash, and then falls to the floor in mess of dark liquid and glass.

"Oh, shit," she murmurs, and then stands up to get a broom and dustpan. I
follow behind her, grabbing a couple towels, and we clean up the mess silently.
We sit back down at the table, and I'm afraid to look at her.

"What does that mean, exactly?" she asks after taking a couple delicate bites of
her chicken.

"Well," I say, then chew my food really slowly so I have more time to think about
how I'm going to word this. "My sister is very… well, she likes people. A lot. And
she's ecstatic for me, thinking I've finally found someone – "

"You haven't dated much?" she asks.

"No," I say. "I couldn't ever find someone I really cared for in that way."

"Because you like boys," she says, like she's putting together a life puzzle.

"Mmm," I respond. "Well, anyway, she's happy for me. So she invited herself
over to dinner tomorrow."

Bella munches on a carrot for a few minutes – the same carrot, I'm beginning to
worry – when she finally swallows and looks up. "So we're going to have to act
couple-y around her tomorrow, is what you're saying."

"Uh, yes. Basically. I mean… if that's okay. If not, I can just tell her that, I don't
know, you're dying of cholera – "

"It's fine," she says quietly.

"What?" I ask, afraid I've misheard her.

"I said it's fine," she says a little bit louder. "Okay? I'll do it."

I can't contain the grin of my face. "God, Bella, thank you so much – "

"But I'm not kissing you," she says suddenly, cutting across my ramble in
stupidity. "So tell her you have herpes, or something." She's grinning at me, but I
know she means it.

And there goes my tinder heart, burning up into ashes.

"Okay," I say to her as we pull up to the restaurant. We decided to meet Alice out
– no bedrooms in a restaurant. "Let's go over the plan one more time."

"Okay," says Bella. She looks incredible – Emmett dressed her, shooting me evil
smiles the whole time – and smells even better. "Here's the plan. I walk up to

Alice and whisper in her ear, 'your brother is gay. His favorite color is chartreuse.
He loves shopping, fine wine, and a penis up the –'"

"And that's enough out of you," I tell her, jumping out of the car. I flip my keys
to the valet, and then open Bella's door. She's giggling like mad, and I roll my
eyes and try not to let my apparent smile get too big. "Come on, little one."

She takes my hand, and I swear to God, cherubs pour from the sky. Sweet little
angels with loincloths and harps, singing sweetly in my ear - ones that Emmett
would probably be attracted to – telling me that tonight is to be the most glorious
night of all glorious nights.

Alice is waiting for us at a table, and a smile stretches across her face as we
make our way over to her. She stands up and gives me a hug – ugh, cool it on
Chanel No. 5, sis. Ugh, cool it on knowing what brand that is, Edward – and then
does the same to Bella.

"It's so nice to meet you," she croons, giving me the thumbs up behind Bella's
back. "Edward has told me alarmingly little about you."

"Oh?" says Bella, pulling out her chair to sit down. Alice shoots me a look, and I
think I was supposed to do that for Bella.

"Yes," Alice says sweetly, turning to her. "So you're just going to need to tell me
everything Edward's left out. Middle and last name?"

Bella shoots me a side-glance. "Uh, Marie Swan."

"Bella Marie Swan?"

"Isabella. I go by Bella."

"Where are you from?"

"Forks, Washington. It's a few hours from Seattle."

This continues for a few minutes until the server comes by for our drink orders. I
decide on a Guinness, and Bella just wants water. Alice orders a bottle of Riesling
for the table, which Bella tries to decline.

"Nonsense," Alice protests, waving her stutters away. "Anyway, what were we
saying? Oh, yes. What do you do?"

I can see Bella fighting a smile, and I kick her under the table. She kicks me back
– fuck, that hurt. I can't stop smiling, though. Poor Alice. Poor Bella. Poor me. All
of us are being lied to in one way or another.

"I got my degree in humanities, but I'm taking a year off before I start grad
school. I'm still not exactly sure what I want to do with it. I'm a server at The Met
– "

"Wait – I'm pretty sure I've had you there before! I knew you looked familiar! Do
you remember me?"

"Did you tip me really well?" Bella jokes, and I laugh, but Alice doesn't.

Bella shoots me another look, and I shrug.

"So… what's it like running a bookstore?" Bella asks tentatively, breaking up the
awkward silence that has fallen.

That has Alice off and running, chattering about the differences between
Modernist literature and today's popular books. Bella keeps a polite look on her
face, and nods and hmmm's at all the right times. I can feel something panging
me in my chest, watching her pretend for me.

The night goes mostly smooth from there. We're wrapping up dinner, and Bella
and I are breathing deeper, relieved, when –

"Bella, I'm not ready for this night to end. What do you say we go get a couple
drinks, just us girls?"

Bella looks to me, and I open my mouth to protest, but then –

"You don't let him tell you what to do, do you, Bella?" Alice voice is low and
speculative, and I want to reach across the table and punch her.

Bella's spine stiffens, and I watch her face pull into a scowl. "No," she says, her
voice nearly a growl. "No man tells me what to do."

I roll my eyes. Great. Alice has brought out the Domme in Bella.

"Fantastic," says Alice, rising with all of us. "Just us girls. It'll be great."

Bella has a big, fake smile on her face. "Great. Just great."

I put my hand on the small of her back and guide her to the door, and then help
her with her coat before we all walk outside. She smiles a bit at me – an apology,
maybe, and then Alice has her by the arm, dragging her away.

I'm watching them walk – they're almost a block away when Alice screeches,
"WAIT!"

I halt, and so does Bella. "What?" I hear her ask. "Did you forget something?"

"No!" laughs Alice. "You did, though. I forgot to let you kiss your man goodbye."
She gives a little laugh, like she's so silly and forgetful.

Bella turns to me, and I watch her battle. "Oh, no, it's fine – I'll make up for it
later."

Alice giggles. "Don't be silly, Bella. Edward will be devastated. Look at him! He
wants a kiss."

Oh, I really do. Yes, come kiss me, Bella. She walks towards me, tipping a little
on her heels. I pull her up against me.

"How are we going to do this?" I whisper against her face. I've never been this
close to her, and I'm going fucking nuts. Her hair is tickling my nose, and her
breath is mixing with mine.

"It's all about angles," she whispers back. She takes my chin and turns it. Then
she leans in, a hairsbreadth away, and tells me to pick her up off her feet. I do,
and she throws her head back and laughs, and it's so convincing I'm laughing
with her, like we're sharing the happiness of our love on the street for everyone
to see.

I land a kiss on her cheek as she pulls away. "Thanks for everything, Bella."

She just smiles this quiet, enigmatic smile, and backs away from me. "I'll call you
if I get too drunk. I'm pretty sure I'm going to need eighteen shots to deal with
your sister."

This makes me laugh, a loud one, like a bark. She trails her hand down my arm,
and our hands clasp momentarily, and we stretch it out until she's out of my
reach. I wave, and she waves on a twirl, then links arms with my sister, and
they're gone.

"Lucky guy," the valet kid says to me, handing me my keys.

I shake my head and fight the overwhelming urge to knock him flat.

Bella does call me. It's 1:37 AM when my phone goes off, and I roll out of bed
with a sigh. I fell asleep in my jeans because I knew I would be getting back up.
She's drunk and happy when I talk to her, but very sleepy.

"Come get meeeeeee," she slurs, and I promise her that I'm on my way.

When I get to the bar, she's waiting for me outside. Alice is next to her, swinging
her purse and grinning at me in a way I don't like.

I park by the street and walk up to the curb to give a hand to stumbling Bella.
Her hair is pulled up out of her face, and she can't wipe the grin off her face.

"Hi," she whispers when I get to her, and then throws her arm around my neck.
"Alice is watching. We have to kiss."

"What?" I whisper back, making sure I've heard her correctly.

"GOTCHA!" she shouts, hugging me tighter and laughing like she's just heard the
funniest thing in her life. "Oh man, jay-kay Edward! Ha ha! I got
yooooouuuuewwww Idon'tfeelgood."

I guide her over to a trashcan, and she has her head in it for a good five minutes
before emerging, looking sober and exhausted.

"Ugh," she says when I ask her if she's okay. I take this as a yes, and guide her
back towards my car.

"Way to get her shit faced, Alice," I hiss at my sister as she hails a taxi.

She blows me a kiss, and I whip out my middle finger just for her. I guide Bella
into the seat, and she slumps back against the leather.

The drive home is silent save for the apologies she throws my way every once in
a while. When we get there, Emmett and a few of his friends are in my living
room, playing a drinking game with cards.

"Hey!" he says, jumping up. "Your place is closer than mine, and we're all kind of
trashed – is it okay if we play here?"

"Whatever," I say, too tired and grumpy to care. "Just keep it down."

"What are you playing?" Bella asks, hanging off my arm. "Is that Ring of Fire? I
want to play! Let's play, Edward."

"Bella, no – "

"Let's play," she says again.

"Okay," I sigh.

We play a couple rounds, and by the third round, everyone is completely out of
their minds drunk. Everyone decides that this game sucks, and we all want
something else to play. Someone suggests truth or dare, and off we went.

I take a shot of Jager and choose dare when Emmett asks me. He narrows his
eyes at me, and then says:

"I dare you to give me the best kiss of your life."

I blame it on the alcohol. I know there are several god-awful auto tuned songs
that blame it on the alcohol, so why can't I? It got me here, in this mess. I'm
sitting here, staring at my friends – friends, ha – while all of them stare back at
me. They want me to say something, do something… at least Emmett does, that
asshole. He's the only one who knows my secret. And he's sitting there, across
from me, smirking, waiting for me to react.

I might have suppressed it these past months, but the overwhelming desire to go
ape-shit, I mean really ape-shit, full on fists and teeth – No Edward, teeth is
wrong – is making blood pulse through my veins. My eye is twitching. My jaw is
clenching.

Bella saves me. God, that beautiful, stupid girl, so oblivious, so fine. She yawns –
Jager makes her sleepy – and throws something at Emmett.

"No, that is so boring. Ugh, who are you people?" She shoots a glare at Emmett,
and I grin, because Emmett loves Bella, that treacherous big gay.

His biggest wish is to be around when I finally break. Break down, break out,
break away. Now I am quoting Kelly Clarkson – God, I have been playing this
part for too long.

"What would you prefer, then, princess?" Emmett asks, and she rests her head
against his shoulder.

"Edward said kissing for you guys is like shaking hands for straight people."

Emmett snorts, and I choke on my Smirnoff – I am drinking a Smirnoff, oh god,
get me out of the gay.

"Is that so?" Emmett asks, his eyes so bright he looks like Old Saint Nick's
homosexual brother.

"Uh huh," Bella continues, adorable, beautiful, drunk and sleepy. "He said that
blowjobs are like, first base, too. So kissing is just not a satisfactory dare."

By this time, Emmett looks like he's about to explode with laughter, and I know
tomorrow, or the next day, or whenever I wake up from this nightmare, he will
be reaming me.

"Okay, fine," Emmett relents. I see that look on his face, and I know that
whatever is coming is about ten times worse. "I dare you to kiss Bella, then,
Edward."

And it's my wildest dream, my deepest fantasy. I'm so deep into this charade
that my once X-rated mind has dwindled, and I beat off to the thought of finally
catching her with my mouth and my tongue and her mouth and her lips and oh
god, my cock, it's so hard.

She has no idea, no clue what she does to me. She walks around topless half the
time, completely unaware of how fucking gorgeous she is, how perfect her tits
are, how much I want them in my hands, my mouth, around my cock. She asked
me to feel them once, to give her my honest opinion, are they too small? Too
saggy? B-cups sag too, Edward.

Like I didn't know. Like I hadn't seen a lot of tits in my life, like I didn't know at
that moment hers were the most perfect in this whole universe. And it all started
because I lost my nerve, a stupid thing that was supposed to go on for one night,
but because that stupid, gorgeous girl beguiled me, I continued, just to be close
to her.

And now she's biting her lip at me, shy. She hates boys, straight boys – they
creep her out. They make her so uncomfortable, why are they staring at me,
Edward? Because you're gorgeous, so hot, so sexy, oh god, I'm so turned on I
can't even think straight.

Then she's coming towards me, determined, like kissing me is no big deal
because that's the thing, it's not to her. But to me, it's everything I've hoped for
in my depraved mind, my deceitful mind.

But it's no big deal to her, nothing at all. Because to Bella Swan, owner of the
most perfect tits and quite possibly my heart, I am gay.

And so, so fucked.

In which shit just got real

I'm expecting something cataclysmic to happen. I'm expecting my ceiling to fall
down on us, expecting Bella to throw up again, expecting God to descend from
the Heavens and smack the shit out of me.

But none of that happens.

All that happens is Bella and I, staring at each other, both of our breathing too
loud for how casual this is supposed to be. It's just a bet, a dare – it's not a
declaration of love or lust or intent, so why is she looking at me like that? Her
eyes dart from my lips and back to my eyes, like she's waiting for me to either
lunge at her or be completely repulsed.

I'm not going to do either. This has to be her. This has to be on her. I can't kiss
her first, or I'll never, ever stop.

"I haven't been kissed in six months," she whispers to me finally, her breath
bitter with the alcohol.

"I haven't wanted to kiss in over six months," I tell her, which is true to most
degrees – there hasn't been anyone I've kissed in the past six months that I've
really wanted to. It's been out of obligation, or a means to an end. But this girl, I
want her taste on my lips so badly, that I think I'm going insane.

"What about now?" she asks me, and even though I can feel everyone watching
me, waiting for my reply, I stop caring.

"Except now," I tell her, and she kisses me.

And for that moment, everything between us just goes quiet. I'm not gay, she's
not afraid of men, our manipulative friends aren't catcalling – we're just a man

and a woman, enjoying a kiss. She makes a tiny sound in her throat and it
vibrates against my mouth, and I'm driven to fist my hands in her hair and pull
her closer to me.

She ends up straddling my lap, and I know she has to feel how hard I am, but
she just keeps on kissing me back, opening her pretty mouth under mine like a
flower. Then she starts squirming over me, and I grab at her hips, and I guess
she thinks I'm telling her to stop, because she does.

She pulls back, and we notice that everyone has left the room. When did that
happen? Where are they? If Emmett is fucking someone in my bed, I'll be
pissed… tomorrow. I'll be pissed tomorrow, because right now, tonight, I can't be
anything but deliriously, stupidly happy.

"I guess we know how to clear a room," says Bella, laughing. She stands up
slowly, wobbling a bit in her inebriation. She holds out a hand for me and helps
pull me up, and then we're kissing again, her back pressed against the wall.

I hitch her leg around my hip and all but rub myself against her like some dog in
heat. I don't know if she likes it or is simply tolerating it, because she makes no
noise while I feel like I'm the heavy breather jacking off in the corner.

Then she puts her hands on my chest, and even though she has no strength to
push me away, I back up. "What's wrong?"

She looks up at me in alarm, and I've seen that look too many times on too many
drunk faces to misinterpret. I grab her arm and steer her towards the bathroom,
and she makes it halfway before throwing up the first time. She starts apologizing
but I tell her to stop, and then carry her the rest of the way to the toilet.

I sit up with this crazy drunk girl who apologizes after every choking sob of vomit
for half an hour, before she finally passes out against the cold tile of the
bathroom floor. I leave her there for a moment, and thank whatever god is out
there that I'm too drunk to care about cleaning up vomit on my floor.

Then I pick Bella up off the tile, and she groans and buries her head against my
chest. I make it to her room, but think that just for tonight, I should be happy.
So I carry her the rest of the way down the hall to mine, and then lay her against
my sheets. She immediately curls up against the pillow and fumbles blindly for
covers, which I hand to her. She sighs and buries herself into my comforter, and
I watch her sleep for a minute before changing into something more comfortable.

I climb in next to her and shift her little body so I have room. She's such a bed
hog, but I don't care, because her cheek is suddenly against my chest and her
breath is warm and fanning down my body. She makes a little snuffling noise that
makes my heart burst and then wraps her fingers around my arm, anchoring her
to me.

I kiss her forehead, scrunching up my eyes against thoughts of tomorrow's
inevitable shit storm.

When I wake up the next afternoon, I can already feel the cold spot next to me
without opening my eyes. I open them anyway, and I feel like I've been punched
over the head with a 747.

"Fuck," I groan, rolling over and getting to my feet. I hear the distinct sound of a
pissed off woman in the kitchen, and even though my hangover is pleading with
me to stop, I go toward it.

"…like it is any of your business what I choose to do – "

" – I'm concerned when you wake up in bed with a strange man – "

" – it's just Edward – "

" – oh yes, the captain of morality and virtue that he is – "

" – I don't think you have any room to talk about waking up in strange men's
beds – "

It's Emmett, and I hear him say something under his breath, and then the door
slams shut. I walk into the kitchen and Bella is leaning against the counter,
letting the pancakes she was cooking burn.

Something about the way she's crumpled speaks to the baser side of me, the side
that is ingrained in men to protect women they care for. I stalk past her, ignoring
the way she calls for me to stop, and then I wrench open the door of my
apartment.

Emmett is halfway to his car.

"Hold it, you piece of shit," I call, already starting down the steps.

Bella is on my heels, but there is something inside of me, filling me up like a lead
balloon. It's taking me over, making every cell of blood beat against my skin and
brain – rage. It's pure, unadulterated rage.

"Go back inside, Bella," Emmett says when we reach him.

"Don't speak to her," I hiss. "What the fuck is your problem?"

His eyebrows raise, and then common sense hits me. He could unravel all of this
with one sentence.

"I don't think it's appropriate for you two to be sleeping in the same bed
together," he says finally, crossing his arms over his wide chest.

I hear Bella scoff behind me, and I agree quickly. "What the fuck? Why not? It's
not anything could happen."

"Oh, yeah? Just like nothing happened last night when you two mauled each
other in front of God and country?"

"You dared us to kiss, you mother fucker!"

"Kiss, Cullen. KISS. Not grind and groan like two eels trapped under a blanket."

"What the fuck does that even mean?"

"Bella?" Emmett turns to her instead of answering me. "Go inside."

"No." It's the first time she's spoken since we came out here. "I'm not going to
watch my best friends beat the shit out of each other. Edward, come back inside
with me. Emmett, go home."

"He's your best friend?" Emmett asks her, and when she nods, he explodes. "You
know what your problem is, Bella? You're so fucking naïve. You let the people
who can hurt you the most get close to you. That's ridiculous. That's so dumb.
Why are we even friends? Can you answer me that? Why did you want to be my
friend? Why do you want to be this jackass's friend?"

She's at a loss for words. I'm not completely sure what he's on about, but she
seems to know exactly what he's saying. She's trying to blink back tears, and
suddenly, everything in me snaps. All the shit I've been holding back for the past
couple months – the sexual frustration, the hiding of my identity, the close calls
and the lonely nights, and the woman I've fallen in love with who is wrapped up
in all these things – I see her crying, and the only thing I want is for Emmett to
hurt as bad as he's hurt me, and hurt her.

I shove him harder than I ever thought I could. He stumbles against his car, and
then he's on me, and my face is under his fist, and then my body is against the
asphalt and every bone in my body is broken. Bella is screaming and I'm ducking
blows as he unloads on me, and then finally her tiny hands get caught
underneath his rage and she whimpers in pain.

That unlocks me, and then Emmett is under me, and all I feel is the way skin and
bone and tissue gives way under sharp pops of the fist.

Then there's a stranger's voice, telling us he's going to call the police if we don't
break it up, now. I hop up off of Emmett and Bella tugs me to her side, her soft
hands raining over my face and trying to stem the bleeding of my nose.

"So that's how it's going to be, Bella?" he asks, looking at both of us in disgust.

She looks away from him and buries her face against my chest. I wrap my arm
around her, and I hear his scoff of disgust.

"Fuck you both, then," he says. "Don't coming crying to me when all of this blows
up in your faces."

"We won't, asshole," I mutter.

When we're back inside and Bella has an ice pack pressed against my nose, she
sighs deeply and sits down next to me.

I barely hear her. I think back to all of the times that Emmett has goaded me –
he's been playfully mean, but there's always been some sort of underlying
animosity between us. Maybe he finally understands that when the charade is
over, he's fucked, too. He's been lying to her as much as I have. Maybe he never
expected it to get this far, and he's growing tired of covering for me. Or maybe
he sees something that I'm not ready to see yet – that Bella is growing
dependent on me for things that I'm not supposed to be able to give her.

"I think… I have some explaining to do."

That pulls me back to the present, and I look over at her. "About why Emmett
just completely lost his shit?"

She looks into my face. "Edward, I've been married."

I almost fall off the barstool. "What? You're twenty-three… and you're already
divorced?" I realize how judgmental that sounds and I try to take it back, but she
waves it away.

"Yeah. High school sweetheart sort of thing – so very cliché. Well, the marriage
floundered pretty quickly, and I couldn't ever really figure out why. We had been
friends forever and we fell in love – or so I thought – really naturally. Turns out,
Jacob was kind of… using me."

"Using you," I repeat.

"I was a cover. Only, I didn't know it."

"A cover? What – Bella, you're not making sense."

"I found Jacob in bed with another man," she blurts out. Then she takes a deep
breath and closes her eyes, like she can't even look at me with what she's about
to say. "And that man… was Emmett."

In which we come clean

I stare at her. And stare. And stare some more. I'm waiting for her to crack a
smile, laugh, bonk me on the nose for believing her for a second. But she doesn't
do any of those things. She rocks back and forth on the little barstool and peers
up at me, looking like she's about to cry.

So, I say the first thing that pops into my head. "That's really disturbing."

And she laughs and nods, thinking I'm trying to alleviate tension. In reality, I
don't know what else to say or do.

Things start clicking into place, but I need more of an explanation from her to put
the puzzle pieces together.

"And you're friends with Emmett, why?"

She absently chews on her lip. "He was a victim in it just as much as I was,
Edward."

"I don't understand."

"Emmett had no idea about me. He had no idea Jacob was married. Just like I
had no idea Jacob was gay. Emmett fell in love with Jacob – it's easy to do, he's a
likable guy – and when he found out his man was married to a woman, it
shattered him."

I just keep staring at her, waiting for her to continue.

"We were both crushed," she says finally, wiping her sniffling nose on the back of
her hand. "We both had the man we loved lie to us in the worst possible way. We
kind of bonded over that, you know? Everyone thinks I'm crazy to be best friends
with the guy who broke up my marriage, but I don't see it like that. Emmett
didn't destroy my marriage. Jacob did. Emmett doesn't look at me like the whore
who crashed his romance, either."

I sit there in silence for so long, Bella moves to clean up the kitchen. She drops a
kiss on my forehead and tells me she has to get ready for work, but I barely hear
her. I'm stunned. I'm one hundred percent stunned.

By Emmett condoning this bargain with me, he essentially gave me the tools to
hurt Bella in the very same way that she had been hurt before: deception of
sexual preference. Regardless of the fact my preference lay with her, once it
came out, it would still be the same sort of hurt for her.

Thirty minutes later, Emmett is opening the door to his apartment for me. His
face is bruised, but mine is worse. We grunt at each other in acknowledgement,
and then he moves aside to let me in.

"How…" I start as I sit down on his couch.

He lets out a big breath. "So, she told you, huh?"

I don't say anything. I think silence speaks volumes in this instance.

"Yep," he continues, moving into his kitchen. Two bottles clang together as he
rummages through the fridge, and then he holds out a beer to me. "I'm the other
woman."

I take a deep pull from the beer, letting the bitter carbonation wash down my
throat. "I'm confused," I say finally. "How was it that you just didn't know about
her?"

Emmett sighs and then sits down next to me. "The way Jacob and I met was as
cute and picture perfect as anything. I bumped into him on the busy streets of
Seattle. His shit went flying. We both tried to save it while trying to not get run
over by cars. We laughed. I bought him a drink. We talked all night. We
exchanged numbers. We texted all day, and talked on the phone late at night. We
had dates every weekend. I was never invited back to his place because he
claimed he still lived with his dad, which was true – he just didn't mention his
wife lived there with him."

Thinking of Bella as a wife makes me feel emptier than anything has in a long
time. Thinking of her waiting up for this man who was carrying on an affair with
an equally oblivious human being fills up that emptiness with fury.

"I learned later that he told Bella he was going to the city to work on the
weekends – they were really poor, she told me – and that he just crashed on a
buddy's couch. This couch, actually." Emmett laughs bitterly, pointing to the worn
cloth couch we're both slumped over on.

"I want to kill this guy," I say finally, clenching the beer bottle tightly, "more than
I've ever wanted to kill anyone else."

"Bella stayed at her father's house one night," he continues, "so Jacob decided to
finally bring me over. I was thrilled that I'd finally get to meet his dad – I thought
that meant Jacob was finally going to commit – but then Jacob introduced me as
his friend, and I thought the bottom had just fallen out of my world. Jacob was in
the middle of making it up to me when Bella walked in. She had forgotten
something – isn't that always how it is? She screamed. Jacob cried. I saw the
wedding band on her finger – a puny little gold thing, no diamond – gathered my
clothes, and left."

Emmett smiles to himself, and I can tell he's holding back tears. Something about
this big, burly man telling someone he hates – me – a story about a time when
he was the most vulnerable makes me want to howl in misery.

"Anyway, imagine my surprise when a pretty young thing shows up at my door a
week later. At first, I hated her, Edward. She was – is – beautiful, sweet, smart,
strong as all hell. I looked at her and saw the woman that Jacob, my Jacob, stood
up with at the altar and promised life and death to. It didn't matter to me at the
time that he had fooled her just as much as he had fooled me. I hated her. But
she told me that she and I had something in common. We were both lonely
because of the same man, and that maybe we could help cure each other's
loneliness."

"Fuck," I grouse, irritated at the tear I feel slipping down my cheek. I wipe it
away quickly and then suck down more beer.

"We started seeing more and more of each other, and eventually, I fell in love
with her. As much as I can fall in love with a girl, anyway. She moved in with me
a year later, and then we met you… and well. I'm not bitter about her anymore. I
know what Jacob saw in her, and the fact that Jacob was able to snag such a
wonderful woman is his only redeeming quality."

"So, she's terrified of straight men because…"

He laughs. "She's terrified of getting hurt again. Isn't it obvious now? With a gay
man, there aren't any surprises to be had for Bella. It's that male companionship
she craves without the scary world of vulnerability and attraction and passion… all
the things she needs, but won't let herself have. A gay man is not an ambiguity
to her. I know it doesn't make a world of sense, but it's her logic."

"So why did you set me up like that, knowing what she had been through?" I am
seeing red behind my eyes, and despite the fact that he's been hurt badly in his
life, I want to make him hurt more.

Emmett shrugs. "Listen, Edward. I never thought it would go this far. I thought
you would add in an interesting element – a straight man's perspective, but told
through a gay man's way – the way that Bella would listen to it. I thought you
could help her open herself back up to the market, so to speak. And, well, I
thought it would be hilarious – which it was – to torture you a little. I knew you
were attracted to her, but I didn't know how deep your feelings for her went, and
for that, I apologize."

"Do you really think I would pretend to be gay for some chick that I just wanted
one night out of, Emmett? Don't even tell me how fucked up that sentence
sounded. I know. I would have – I did – do anything just to be close to her. I
realize how stunted my emotional connectivity was that I didn't even recognize
what I felt for her at the beginning, but I'm telling you now. I'm fucking nuts
about that girl. I'm tired of pretending."

Emmett raises his hands in a lost gesture. "I wish I had answers. I don't know
what to tell you. You're in too deep now to back out gracefully. However this
happens, it's going to be messy."

Here I was, pretending to be something for her so I wouldn't have to know the
bleakness of not having her in my life any longer. Now, I'm confronted with the
very real possibility that once I tell the truth, regardless of my sexuality, the fact
that I deceived her will run her out of my life forever.

"Let her go," Emmett says suddenly, looking me in the eye. "You need to let her
go, Edward. It's the one thing Jacob could have done to spare her the hurt. He
could have let either of us go, instead of – "

"No," I say finally, standing. "You're wrong. I'm not taking the choice away from
Bella. If she wants to go, she deserves the pride and dignity of making that
decision for herself. She deserves to be told the truth, and she deserves to be
able to make a call with all the knowledge, without anyone tying her hands and
making her choose something because she has no other choice. I know I've been
nothing but an asshole about all of this, but I refuse to take the easy way out by
just dipping out of her life. I deserve to be cast aside by her – but only if that's
her choice. If by some miracle she wants me, then that's her choice, too."

Emmett stares at me for quite some time, and then breaks into a smile. "I think
you overestimate your ability to act like a gay man, Edward. Bella is… on to you,
shall we say. I don't think she'll be too shocked by your revelation, but I know
she'll be pissed as all hell for your deception. I don't know what she'll choose –

her pride or her heart. But I know that if she chooses to keep you, like I know
she'll want to, she'll be keeping a good man."

On my drive home, I call Alice. I need to know what she and Bella talked about
last night – was it only last night? Fuck – at the bar.

She answers on the second ring. "It's about time."

"Cut the shit," I say tiredly. I don't remember being more exhausted in my life.
"You know what I want to know."

She tells me to meet her at a restaurant downtown, and so I turn around and
drive back that way. She's sitting in one of the booths when I get there, snacking
on sweet potato fries. She offers some to me, but I shake my head.

"So," she says finally, getting to business. "When were you going to tell me?"

"About what?" I ask, deciding to eat a fry.

"About your bisexuality."

I choke on the fry. "My what?"

"Bella tells me that you have suddenly taken a nose dive – and I mean that
literally – into the world of cock, brother."

"I'm not bisexual," I tell her. My voice sounds dead even to my own ears.

"Well, that's not what Bella thinks. I assured her that you loved women a
disgusting amount, and she seemed extremely confused by this. So, we both
came to the conclusion that you've been dipping your wick in the best of both
worlds."

I think about how easily she gave into kissing me last night, and the last couple
puzzles pieces snap into place. She wasn't kissing an Edward that was gay – she
was giving in to an Edward who she thought finally appreciated her womanly
wiles. An Edward that had seen both sexes and decided that he wanted her at
that moment. Did she kiss me to make herself feel better? Did she use me?

Bella gets back from work late, and I'm lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling
when she walks in. I can smell a hard day's work of grease and griping customers
on her when she waves at me from the hallway, and I hate to have to do this
today. I can tell she's just as exhausted as I am.

"Bella?" I call, sitting up in bed.

She peeks her beautiful face around the corner, and I drink it in, wondering if this
is the last time I'll see it in a happy expression. "Hi, Edward. Long day?"

"Very," I tell her. "Can we talk?"

She nods warily. I know she thinks I'm going to tell her about my conversation
with Emmett, but that's the furthest from my mind.

"Can I shower first?" she asks.

I almost say yes, but thinking about waiting another fifteen minutes with this
feeling in my gut is torture.

"No," I say, and then pat the bed next to me. "This… can't really wait."

So she trudges into my room and sits down on the bed and looks up at me
expectantly.

"I talked to Alice today," I say finally. "And she told me about you two… your
discussion about my sexuality."

Bella goes red. "She promised she wouldn't say anything!"

I shake my head. "Never tell Alice anything you don't want the whole world
knowing. But that's not the point – "

"Edward, I don't care that you're bisexual," she says, cutting across me. "I've
always kind of suspected it. No offense. You're just not gay," she emphasizes.
"You're too masculine. You're too – you're just not. You don't have to be ashamed
of liking both – I kind of understand. Girls are really pretty, and sometimes I – "

I have to cut her off before she continues with that sentence, because that's the
last image I need when I'm about to break my own heart. "I'm not bisexual,
Bella."

She scrunches her eyebrows together. "Edward, it's okay. You don't have to lie to
me anymore."

I close my eyes. "You're right. I don't. I'm so sorry that I've lied to you, Bella."

"It's okay – "

"No, you don't – "

"Edward, it's okay. I'm kind of… relieved. I was happy when Alice and I figured it
out, because to be honest – I think you're – I think you're extremely beautiful
and wonderful, and I really kind of like you." She takes a deep breath. "I just
didn't know it because I always thought that you were gay, so I kind of just
pushed it aside. But, I mean… it's okay that I like you, right?" She smiles up at
me, so shy, and I just know that I'm dying.

It would be so easy to take this and run with it. It would be so easy to just
smooth this whole thing over, and tell her that not only do I like her too, I love
her. But because I love her, and respect her, and a lot of other things I didn't
think I ever would with a woman, I can't do that.

"I'm not bisexual, Bella. And I'm not gay, either. I'm straight. I'm one hundred
percent straight. The night you met me at the Nugget, I was pretending to be gay
so I wouldn't get my face beat in – long story. But then the charade just
continued because I wanted so bad to be by your side but I knew you hated
straight men, so I pretended. I'm not gay. I've never been attracted to a man.
And I've never loved anyone before, not until you."

"I don't believe you." Her voice is quiet and clogged.

I take her hand and press it against the erection that I've been sporting
perpetually for the past few months. She gasps and gapes at me.

"You do that to me," I tell her. "And no one else."

She removes her hand slowly, and then stands up. She doesn't look at me at all
before she leaves the room, and then I'm all alone with my truth bouncing off the
empty walls. I hear the bathroom door open and shut, and then the shower cut
on.

I'm left with nothing but her silence.

The water cuts off, and I start thinking of all the horrible things that could happen
to me (and my balls) if Bella decides to come back into my room. Most of me
wants her to, but the part of me that cares only about my testicles and their
livelihood is hoping that she is so mentally exhausted that she just passes out in
her bed (or mine).

I hear her in her room next to mine, rummaging around. Sweat starts to bead at
my hairline and runs down into my eyebrows. What if she has pliers in her room?
Pliers to my nuts. Or maybe a hammer to my nuts. No, she doesn't have
hardware in her room. But what if she does? Maybe I can barter with her. She
can smash my nose if she leaves the nuts. Wait, do I want my nose smashed?
No, but do I care about the boy wonders more than my nose? Why am I even
asking? Of course I do.

My door opens, and I blurt out, "Please, God, just not my nuts."

I'm met with silence, so I remove my hand from my boys and glance up. Bella is
standing in my doorway, her eyebrow raised.

"I'm not God or a squirrel, so I don't think that sentence was meant for me," she
says finally.

I sag against the bed. "Hi."

I hear her deep breath. "Hi."

We stare at each other for a few moments before she comes in and closes the
door behind her. My paranoid mind is wondering if this is an attempt to muffle my
screams. She shuffles forward until her knees hit the edge of the bed, and then
she's crawling onto it, up my body, before she sits down on my stomach.

"Ooof," I mutter as she makes herself comfortable. "Hi," I repeat. Her bony ass is
stabbing my stomach, but I can hardly believe my luck that she's choosing to be
this close to me in a way that (so far) isn't going to end in blood and/or tears. I
place my hands on her hips, and she shifts a little, but doesn't pull me away.

"Why?" she asks me. "Why couldn't you just tell me the truth?"

Scratch that. This will definitely end in tears.

"I told you, Bella…"

"And considering the amount of shit you've lied to me about, I think I can ask
'why' again and again until I'm satisfied. You're lucky I'm not beating the shit out
of you right now." She crosses her arms and digs her ass farther into my
stomach.

I wince uncomfortably. Then I think of the time she knocked a grown ass man to
the ground in that bar, and realize I better get to talking.

"If I had known the extent of – of your hurt, I would have never done this, Bella.
But I can't regret it now. When I met you at the Nugget, talking to you – it was
like…" I try to think of something pretty to say, but she stops me with a finger to
my lips.

"I don't want what your alter ego, Edwina, would say."

"Edwina!" I'm so offended. Then I realize she's giggling down at me, so I roll my
eyes. "I don't know what you mean, Bella."

"You've spent a lot of time around Emmett – he's probably taught you a lot of
smooth things to say. But I don't want to hear what he has to say. I want to hear
it from you."

"I pretended to be gay so I could be close to you. Does that not speak volumes?"
When I can tell she's not satisfied with this, I try again. Her weight on me is
starting to get a little uncomfortable, but I press on. "When I first saw you, I
wanted to fuck you. But as time wears on, I want to do things to you that Boyz II
Men wrote songs about, Bella."

She tries to hide a smile. "That's not satisfactory."

I groan in frustration. "What do you want, then, Bella? Beat the shit out of me if
you want. Scream at me if you want. Kick me out of this apartment if you want.
Well, no, technically my name is on the lease – "

"Shut up, Cullen."

"Right. I just don't get it. I don't get your calm."

"I've been told a lot worse," she says quietly, and she runs her nails up my arm.

I close my eyes. "That's not – that's fucked up, Bella. Not you – but this. I don't
want to be one of the easier losses you've suffered, or something you can
compartmentalize. Deal with me. Deal with this." I grabbed onto her forearms,
forcing her to look at me. "I lied to you. I've seen you naked under false
pretenses. I've beaten off to the thought of you – "

"Shut up, Edward." Her voice is low. I'm getting somewhere.

"Emmett knows. He helped set all of this up. I told Jasper you had teeth in your
vagina – "

"Shut the fuck up!" she yells, pounding at my chest.

"I stole your body lotion and used it to jack off – "

"That shit was expensive!" she screams, beating my chest harder.

I keep goading her, making her confront her anger. She punches me with her
little fists and that's okay. I can take the pounding, even though I know I'll
bruised and sore tomorrow. She can punch me all day every day for what I did,
but what I can't take is what I notice when I finally look up at her - her tears.

"No," I tell her, sitting up. "Stop crying. I'm not worth those tears – fucking quit
it, Bella. Stop."

She falls into my chest, and I hold onto her, my whole body rocking with the
force of her sobs. She beats me at random intervals before turning into a
hysterical mass of snot, and then she quiets. This cycle repeats for a few times
before she starts grasping at the hem of my shirt.

She rubs her nose all over it. NICE.

"The lying stuff – it… I can't began to think about all the implications right now,"
she says finally, not looking at me. "I've had a really long day, and my brain
hurts, and – you told Jasper my vagina has teeth?"

"He was asking why we weren't having sex! I couldn't – "

"It doesn't have teeth," she tells me.

"Well, I figured it didn't."

"How would you know?"

"I – what? I wouldn't."

"Do you want to know?"

"What?"

She looks at me like I've completely lost my mind. Maybe I have. I know what it
sounds like, but I'm not making any assumptions.

"I've already come to terms with the fact you like girls," she says quietly. "It's the
lying – I don't – " She takes a deep breath, looks at me funny, and then kisses
me.

I don't think I could have planned a weirder night. I tell Bella my secret, keep my
nuts intact, and Bella is kissing me.

"Are you going to respond or am I going to have to keep kissing a corpse?" She
pokes at my face. "I know you aren't made of stone."

Fine. Fine. She wants me to respond? Fine. I pull her back down to me, and we
kiss, and it's hot and it's messy and it makes absolutely no sense to my heart –
but that's probably because it's sending all the blood flow south, instead of north.
My nuts are delighted that they are going to be used. Then she bites my lip and I
hate when girls do that but then she makes up for it by urging me on top of her
while rubbing her foot against my uncomfortable erection.

"Ugh – come on, Edward," she whispers against my mouth as I'm hesitant to
grind against her. "I know you want it."

"I do – " and I guess she hears the big 'but' about to follow, because she pulls me
down hard on top of her.

"Then take it," she hisses.

So I go through the motions. We end up with our clothes off, and she's just as
beautiful as I've always thought she would be – even though I've seen her naked,
seeing a woman naked and squirming and sweaty is a completely different sort of
sensation. She reacts to all of my touches perfectly because I know what I'm
doing – this sort of dance, I've done it a million times over. Her nipples are hard
against my palm and her stomach silky against my fingers. Her skin is sloppy and
wet where it should be, and she's spongy and soft against my two fingers.

I keep waiting for her to open her eyes to me, to let me in. But she is thrashing
around on my pillow, letting me fuck her with my fingers without any passion,
any emotion. She comes quickly after I get a hold of the hard nub with my
tongue, and then she's pulling me back up, telling me how she wants me inside.

I know she senses my hesitation. She knows me so well, and as she unhooks the
button of my pants, I think about her – how uncharacteristic this is, and how I
would never suspect this girl of dispassionate anything. She's the most
passionate person I know – about everything – and it's one of the many reasons I
stop her.

"What's the matter?" she asks, her eyes finally making contact with mine. But
this time, I'm the one that looks away.

"I don't think this is a good idea." I try to back away, but she grabs onto my
arms.

"Don't reject me," she says, and her voice is small, a whimper.

"Jesus," I hiss. "I don't want to reject you – "

"Then don't," she practically wails.

"Then look at me," I demand. "Don't take your eyes off of me. If you do, for even
a second, I'm done."

So she watches me as my pants go to my ankles. She watches me (her head
slightly cocked, fighting a smile) as my cock springs out of my pants like a jack-
in-the-box. She watches me as I roll on a condom and spread her legs. She
watches me as she loops her arms around my neck.

"Are you ready?" I whisper. I can feel that she's not as wet as she once was –
she's kind of sticky in that way that girls get before they turn into sandpaper.

"Yes," she gasps. I wet my fingers and lubricate her down there, and she makes
a pretty noise, and I slide home.

My forehead bangs against hers as I thrust my way in. Slowly, because she's
keening – I know it's been a while for her, and it's definitely been a while for me.
She feels like other girls but not. She's not the tightest (even though she's tight),
she's not the wettest (even though she's wet), but she's still the best, because
her eyes are still on me, and even though I know she's trying to guard herself,
her eyes say it all.

"This feels so good," she whispers after a moment, closing her eyes.

I thrust into her roughly, and her eyes pop back open as mine close. No, can't do
that again, or I'm going to come quicker than a thirteen year old with his dad's
Hustler.

"Oh god, do that again," she pleads, wrapping her legs tighter around me and
giving me little choice.

The girl wants to completely emasculate me. First, I pretend I'm gay around her
for months. Now, as I get to show her I'm not, she's forcing me to blow my load
in less than five minutes.

But I do it, because it makes her feel good, and it makes me feel good, too. I ask
her if she's gonna come, but she says she doesn't come from sex – and even
though I want to prove her wrong – I have no time. Her tight little – it's hugging
me – best hug ever – and then I come, gloriously. I feel like I'm shooting lasers
out of my dick I come so hard, each thrust a strangled noise leaving my throat,
and then I collapse, and Bella complains.

"You're fat," she insists, shoving at my sweaty chest.

I smile contentedly and rest my head between her boobs. Her right one is hitting
me in the face each time she tries to shove me, and if I had to die, I would
choose right now. I could not be happier.

I shift over eventually, and Bella props herself up on an elbow. "I really needed
that," she says, and she's still panting a bit.

"I still don't know what just happened," I told her.

She smiles at me. "Well, when a man and a woman – "

"Ha ha," I cut her off. "Bella, you just – try to understand. I've been beating the
fuck out of myself for months now, thinking about all the ways you'd torture me
once you found out – and instead, you fuck me."

"Do you always over think things like this?"

"No," I answer honestly. "Not really. But with you – yeah. All the time."

"We both needed to have sex," she says after a minute, and she's definitely not
looking at me again. "So I don't get the problem. We both…"

"We both what?" I question, when she stops.

"Got off," she answers, and then she scoots out of the bed. "Anyway, I have an
early day tomorrow, so – "

I grab her arm. "What are you doing? You can sleep in here."

"No, that's okay – I mean, I know what this was…"

"Obviously, you don't."

"We just needed some – "

"If I wanted some, I could go out and get some," I tell her.

Immediately I can tell this is the wrong thing to have said, but I'm so confused
by her sudden coolness and – and – rejection, that I'm grasping blindly at straws.

"Well why don't you just do that," she hisses at me, and then slams my door.

At this point, I think I would have preferred her crushing my nuts.

XxXxX

The next morning passes, and I don't see light until the afternoon. When my eyes
open, there is a condom still on my dick, which through the night has become
flaccid and then hard again, and all of that motion has made my jizz leak all over
my legs and sheets.

I find a note from Bella on the counter, apologizing for last night, telling me she's
sore with a sideways wink and to meet her at Pike Pub at seven. I don't really
want to go to a bar, but I will go wherever she wants me to because I am
completely and totally and finally pussy whipped like that.

I shower and throw my sheets in the laundry and call Emmett (who doesn't
answer). I call Alice but hang up when she answers because I don't really know
why I called her annoying ass in the first place. I then stare at my phone and
realize I don't have anyone else to call.

Well that's fucking depressing.

I get to the bar a little before seven and order whatever they have on draught,
and then sit back and wait for Bella to arrive. Then I hear her laugh somewhere,
so I turn my head and search for her.

She's standing next to some guy, and I can tell they're joking around because
she keeps nudging him like she always does to me when I'm being annoying. I
walk over in their direction and clear my throat, and she looks up at me, startled.

"Oh, Edward – hi! I didn't think you'd be on time." She's looking a bit guilty, I
think, and she should be. My dick was inside her not even twenty-four hours ago.
She doesn't get to flirt with guys in front of me.

"I'm always on time," I tell her flatly, because I am. She's the one who's always
late.

"Oh… yes, true. Edward, this is Ben," she says, gesturing to the guy beside her.

We both size each other up, and then grip the shit out of each other's hands
when we shake.

"I went to high school with him," Bella goes on to explain. "He dated one of my
friends, Angela… a really long time ago," she adds, and kind of smiles up at him.

I glare at her. "Isn't that against girl code?"

She glares back at me. "You would know all about that, wouldn't you?"

Oh, here we are. Okay, I get it. This is revenge. Smooth, Bella. Rub a guy in my
face, one that has yet to say a word – obviously a real brain – and has really,
really bad hair. Oh, and go ahead and passive aggressively attack me for things
both me and my dick have apologized for last night. Okay, fine. Choose to play
that card, because I've got you, girl.

"Well, yeah, I guess I would. I mean, you play the game, you learn the rules, you
know?"

"What sort of game?" she questions.

"I think you know exactly what kind of games I like to play, Bella," I tell her,
dropping my voice.

She flushes and turns away.

So we're going to do this, are we? Fine.

I pull out my phone as I walk away from her and text Emmett.

I need your help.

Game on, baby.

xxxxxxxx

In which I make someone happy

"If you honestly think I'm going to help you pull another fast one on Bella, you
are just as insane as I thought you were." Emmett looks at me in mild disgust
and maybe a bit of admiration. "What the fuck?"

"Look, I don't have time to explain – "

"Make time."

"She seduced me. I am innocent."

"Edward, don't tell me this is a 'I tripped and my dick and her vagina decided to
be magnets' – "

"It's not – I don't – fuck, I don't know. All I know is that she came into my room
and I was at least ninety percent sure that I was going to lose a nut. Instead, I
busted a nut. Does that make any sense to you?"

"I'm not Anne Landers with a dick, you dick. I'm gay. If I understood women
better, maybe I'd be bisexual." He stands up and walks into his kitchen.

I follow him. "Emmett, fucking please. I'm dying. She's like, I don't know, fucking
some dude she knew in high school right now, I swear to fucking – "

"What do you want me to do, Edward? Go over there? Also, I highly doubt she's
fucking him, Steer."

His use of my once overused nickname kind of calms me down. "Yeah, probably
not. It's probably a ruse. She's probably like – "

"You slept with her, didn't you?"

"We've already been over this. She seduced me."

Emmett sighs. "Damn it, Edward. You couldn't just keep it in your pants – "

"Uh. Just one sec there, asshole. I tried. She practically ripped it out of my pants
like some sort of dick thief. I kept telling her to stop, but I can only do so much,
Emmett."

He mutters something that sounds like 'pussy whipped', so I mutter 'asshole
whipped' right back.

He glares at me. "If I was asshole whipped, I'd be agreeing to help you, wouldn't
I?"

"I – not funny. Not. Funny. At all. Look, you know her better than anyone else in
the world, Emmett. I need to know what to do. I don't want to… I'm going to lose
her to this game, but I can't give in. I can't let her treat me like shit just because
everyone else has treated her like shit."

"Okay, first of all," says Emmett after a long pause, "I'm not the one who knows
her better than anyone else in the world. That would be you, Edward. I guess you
haven't noticed, but there's been a gradual shift. Bella stopped coming to me
about things and has started going to you. How's it going for her at work?"

"She just got promoted to head server in her section – "

"Has she made any decisions what to do with her degree?"

"She's thinking about being a curator for one of the museums around here, but
she's worried because people apparently have to like, die before positions
become available – "

"How's Charlie?"

"He's fine. He thinks he has a sciatica – he's all numb in his back, and Bella's
really concerned – "

"What does she look like when she comes?"

"Her face, it opens and shuts at the same time, I don't know how to describe it,
but it's hot and gorgeous, and… okay, you've made your point." I groan and grab
at my hair. "So… what you're telling me is…"

"You know what to do, Edward. Stop playing these games. Too many fucking
games. You love her. I know you do. Is this really how you want everything to
begin? Deception and push and pull and… I don't know. I think you're robbing
yourself, Steer. That's all."

"She started it."

"I hate having to sound all mother-ish, but you need to finish it. If you two play
this game, it's just going to cause problems. Let her throw her temper tantrum,
but don't give her a reason to justify her actions, got me? The more you play, the
more fire you're going to give her. You do want to be with her, don't you?"

"Um, yes."

"Then what's the point in acting like you don't?"

xXxXx

When I get home, I hear Bella's giggles from the other side of the door. I fumble
with my keys and then push the door in, practically ripping it from the hinges.

The laughter stops as I bust in. Bella is sitting there on the couch, holding court
with four people around her. No, not four people. Four men.

"Hi, Edward," she practically sings.

"Hi," I say back shortly, sending my best caveman vibes at all the jackasses who
won't make eye contact with me. That's right, the man of the house is fucking
home, assholes.

"Come chat with us," she invites, waving her hand. "You remember Ben, don't
you?"

"Unfortunately," I say clearly, moving past them to my bedroom. I see Jasper
sitting there, but I ignore the traitorous asshole who is trying to give me dap.

I slam the door loudly, and my bulletin board falls off my wall and onto my desk
with a bang. Fine. Fine. I try to think of Emmett telling me not to play games, but
she is sitting there just begging me to do something about it.

What could make her the most uncomfortable? What could make those assholes
leave?

As I'm stripping myself, it comes to me.

Male nudity.

I dig through my drawers for the Speedo that one of my exes gave me. She was
European and pouted at the sight of board shorts. What's a man to do?

I walk out proudly in my banana hammock. I scratch my balls as I walk by the
group of men staring anywhere but at me. I can feel Bella's glare, but I just smile
at her as sweetly as I can through the grimace – this shit is not comfortable on
my meat and two veg.

I hear Bella say that she'll be right back, and then she is pushing her little finger
into my chest as I lean against the counter, drinking some orange juice.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" She pokes at me some more, and I'm
going to grab her finger and slam it in the freezer if she does that one more time.

"Airing out my nuts," I answer. "It's my house."

"It's mine too," she hisses.

"Yes, I can see that. Shy Bella Swan, man hater of the first order, suddenly
fraternizing with the boner buddies." I drink some more juice, even though my
stomach is sloshy and full. I just need something to do with my hands so I don't
press myself back against the girl who is pressing against me in anger.

"And what business is that of yours?" she snaps. "You didn't have any problem
with your boner buddy the other night."

"That's because your twat socket was drooling to introduce herself. Don't start
with me, Bella."

"Too late," she tells me, and then gives me one more poke. She moves away
before I can grab at her finger, which is good.

Jasper walks into the kitchen then, with a very aggrieved look on her face. "Bro,
why did you tell me her pussy had – had – " He clacks his teeth together.

Bella is blushing with the mention of her private parts in such a vulgar manner,
and even though I'm furious at her, I'm even more furious at the thought of
someone else making her upset.

"Watch your fucking mouth, Whitlock."

He laughs at me. "No offense, dude, but your David Hasslehoff gear is making
you really, like, not scary. At all. And so what?"

"That's right," says Bella suddenly, smiling at Jasper. "So what? It doesn't have
teeth, right Edward? It doesn't bite… hard." She runs a finger down my chest,
and Jasper realizes that he may not want to be around for what's about to
happen, so he quickly makes his way to the front door.

The other guys follow, I think, but I'm definitely not looking in their direction.

"Why are you doing this to me, Bella?" I ask her, pressing her against the counter
with my hips.

"That's the lack of blood in your brain going south," she tells me, referring to my
massive woody.

"Not that," I insist, even though I push myself against her a little harder. "Why
are you playing these games with me? I can feel how uncomfortable you are
around all these men, but with me – it's natural. Why do you want to fight this? I
know you have feelings for me, Bella. You told me you liked me just last night.
What's changed? The fact that I don't like men, also – so there's not that safe
harbor you're used to?"

She's struggling to get out of my grip, and I'm not an asshole, so I let her go.
She doesn't move, though, just stays against me. She sort of sags, and then
grabs my arms. She puts them around her and leans into my bare chest. I can
hear her smelling me, and it makes me smile. I'm not awkward in my state of
undress around her; she's already seen everything I've got, and it's all hers,
anyway.

"Don't you see how easy it would be to love me, Bella?" I ask her after a moment
of silence. She sniffles, and I continue. "It would be so easy. Like… like falling.
Effortless."

"Shut up," she whispers, her voice muffled against my skin.

"Okay," I whisper back, and we stand like that in the kitchen until my legs are too
tired to stand anymore.

xXxXx

She makes us a small dinner and when we sit down, it almost feels like it used to.
I bite into my chicken salad sandwich and smile at her in thanks, and she returns
it.

"So, who were those assholes?" I ask finally, using my thumbnail to get chicken
out of my teeth.

"Ben's friends, and Jasper, of course," she answers. "I stole his phone number
from your phone. I knew it would really piss you off if he came. Also, someone
named Heidi called you, and when I answered, she didn't sound too happy."

Heidi. Now, there's someone I hadn't thought of in a while. I laugh to myself and
pick at the chips on my plate.

"What?" Bella wants to know. She's smiling at my laughter, and I shake my head,
knowing I'm going to tell her. "Oh, c'mon!"

"Heidi is the whole reason I got into this mess," I tell her. I rest my elbows on the
table and laugh some more. "My old roommate, Garrett? The one whose room
you're in now – "

"Yeah, about that," she says abruptly. "I need to thank him. He left a huge stash
of porn DVD's that have made me very happy."

I scoff. "Don't say shit like that, Bella. Every time I heard that buzzing, I just
pretended you were using your electric toothbrush for fifteen minutes. You know,
being very hygienic."

"But I don't own an electric toothbrush." She's laughing at me.

"Don't mock my delusions." I take a swig of the iced tea in front of me. "And
anyway, I had to use your special lotion to jack off with, because I was getting
chaffed."

She laughs even harder. "You were not."

"Um, let's talk about that time you came up to me completely naked except for
underwear and had me inspect your breasts for lumps."

She looks embarrassed. "I never know what to look for. I always get paranoid,
thinking there's a huge tumor there – my mom has, well… had breast cancer.
She's okay now, but still…"

I feel bad for mocking her. "I'm sorry, Bella. I didn't know." I grab her hand. "But
that doesn't change the fact that I'm a guy and I wasn't checking for lumps. I
was straight up groping."

"I thought there was a lump," she protests, her face beet purple.

"Nope. No lumps. Just beautiful tits on a beautiful girl."

"Anyway," she says pointedly. "Garrett? Heidi?"

"Oh, right. Right. Well, Heidi is Garrett's sister – "

"Don't tell me! You didn't!"

"I didn't know. Anyway, I didn't really care much, either. I was kind of a lost soul
there for a while," I say quietly, which is true, but I've never really thought about
it. It feels good to say. "You know? There's existing and there's living. And I was
doing the things I was supposed to – eating, breathing, sleeping, learning,
working, fucking – but I wasn't really doing anything purposeful. And I'm not
saying I am now, either. But I feel better about it now, for some reason."

She grins at me. "My, aren't we philosophical tonight."

"Yeah, anyway. We had just gotten done boinking, and I was out on the balcony
smoking, when I hear this, like, caveman yell. Garrett is standing there
screaming at Heidi, and I can't fucking stand when guys yell at girls – it's not
cool, so even though I was basically using her, I still defended her. And when I
did, Garrett was about two seconds away from beating my face in – " I tell her
the rest, about how he got me to go to the gay club, and about how it was
supposed to be a one night thing, and how at the end, Garrett left, and Heidi and
I had sex one more time.

She's laughing the whole time - a beautiful, carefree sound that I don't think I've
ever heard come from her. At the end, she picks up our paper plates and throws
them away.

"I can't really blame her," she says finally, sitting back down across from me.

"What do you mean?" My mouth is full of potato chips.

"For getting one more time in," she says quietly. "I mean – you're really…"

I swallow. "I'm really what?"

"Well, you're really fucking hot," she says plainly, vulgarly, like it's the most
obvious thing in the world.

"Well," I say, kind of taken aback. "You are too, Bella."

She makes a face at me. "All I'm saying is… I would have taken advantage of a
do-over, too."

I'm not good at this subtlety crap. "Huh?"

She looks at me in the eye, and it's like I can see the young girl she was, the
fierce one with the big heart that even a jackass like her ex could love enough to
marry. "You were good. But it could have been better. We… could have been
better."

I nod slowly, and then take another sip of my iced tea. "Yeah… we could have
been. It was kind of…"

"Stupid," she supplies. "I don't want to play games, Edward. I'm no good at
them. I…"

I stare at her until she continues.

"I've been hurt," she says simply. "I've been hurt badly, and I haven't dealt with
it. Edward, I know you, okay? Gay, straight, bi, alien – it doesn't matter. I know
you're a good guy with good intentions. The fact of the matter is that you lied to
me for months, and I don't trust you." She rubs her face with her hands. They're
so tiny, and I try to imagine her with a wedding band on her finger. I can't
without my chest hurting.

"Can you?" I ask her finally. "I'll never lie again, Bella. Even if you ask me if you
look fat and you do, which is impossible because you have the hottest body, I
swear to god – "

"I need time," she says. "Time and truth. And… a lot of laughing. And things that
make me happy, and not sad. Things that make me feel good. And I want those
things from you. Not like… my boyfriend. But not like my friend either. Just like…
Edward. And Bella. Being happy. Can we do that?"

I try to hide my grin and completely fail. "Yeah, Bella. We can do that."

xXxXx

In which I pass the world's hardest test

I guess this is the time where the narrator – me – says that they've never been
happier, followed by a music segment showing all said happy times. There would
be a bunch of good stuff to put there, but it's not been super easy, this past
month.

Sometimes, she's really wary of me, and this whole business. If we get drunk,
she ends up crying or beating me, but it's okay because I get to hold her after,
and kiss her on her soft skin, anywhere but her lips. I'm determined that our next
kiss, our next fuck, will be because of love. I'm already there, but I'm waiting for
her. I'm a pretty patient guy – I stayed 'gay' for her for months – so I'm just
biding my time, making her happy, like I promised.

It's just another Saturday, and I'm finishing up some homework for one of my
online classes. She's on the phone with her dad, and she's giggling and teasing
him about his pizza and beer diet. I love listening to her happiness; it keeps me
on my toes and gives me signals for what I should be achieving with her.

It's rare that she has a Saturday off, so when she sits down next to me, I'm
already chomping at the bit to take her somewhere. She leans into my arm, and
even though it makes me mess up the sentence I'm typing, I live for these
moments sometimes. The ones where she forgets that I was once 'gay' and am
now straight, where she forgets I lied, where she forgets that we drunkenly made

out and that she seduced me… and just remembers that I'm her best friend, and
that I'm here.

"I really miss my dad," she says, leaning into me some more. I give up on the
typing and turn to her, and she buries herself against my chest. She hasn't
showered yet, and she smells a bit sweaty, but sometimes I think I prefer that
natural smell better than the overdose of products girls put on themselves.

"Yeah?" I ask noncommittally. I rub her back and she sighs sleepily.

"Mmm-hmmm. Edward…"

"Bella…"

She laughs. "Edward…"

I dig a finger in her rib, and she shrieks. "Spit it out."

"That's rude. I always swallow."

Oh, and did I mention she frequently tries to make me lose my goddamned
mind?

"Anyway," she says, seeing that I'm floundering too much to respond. "I really…
are you almost done with your homework, school boy?"

"Yeah – almost. If someone didn't keep interrupting me."

"Oh, my mistake, I'll just go lean on someone else – "

I attach her to me with both arms, and then lean back. She comes with me, and
she's sprawled across my chest, her elbows on either side of my head.

"Try," I dare her.

She just smiles sweetly. "Would you be opposed to a road trip?"

I spent four months being gay for you, sweetheart. You'll find there's little I'm
opposed to where you're concerned. "No."

"Good!" She kisses the tip of my nose. "Because we're going to Forks."

"Um…" Oh shit. The land of her chief police dad and her asshole ex-husband. "Are
you sure?"

"Yeah… why? Is that bad? I can go by myself – "

"Um, no. You're not going anywhere by yourself." I mean it in a more relative
way, but her eyebrow quirks up.

"Oh, no?" She detaches herself from me, and I immediately want her damp-
sheets smell and warm body back on top of me. "Well, I'm about to get in the
shower… do you need to come with me there, too?"

I groan and rub my face with my hands. She laughs, and then skips off to her
shower.

Trying to make me lose my goddamned mind.

xXxXx

Two hours later, we're stuffing the car full of weekend bags. She called her dad,
and she said he's thrilled. I heard the conversation, and all he said was, "all right,
then" but apparently, that means a lot. Maybe he's a mute.

"So," Bella says as soon as we're on the road. She fiddles with my radio and sets
it on a country station. Ugh, that's not staying. "I have a confession."

"If you're about to tell me you shaved your vagina with my good razor again – "

"UGH, no. I can't believe I told you that. No, I can't believe you haven't let me
forget that." She crosses her arms.

"You shaved. Your pussy. With my electric razor. How you did that without
mowing off your clit – "

"Edward. Stop. Get over it. I was really drunk. And… okay, do you want to know
the real reason why I did it?"

"What, the fact that you needed to shave was the fake reason?"

"Revenge."

"Revenge?"

"Remember that night… we had sex?"

"No, I forgot."

"You did? Ugh, Edward."

"Of course I remember! I have a Y chromosome. We don't just forget sex."

"Whatever. Anyway, I was really pissed."

"I know."

"Because… you…"

"Because I…"

"Because you have a big... ugh. You know."

"What was that?" But I'm grinning, ear to fucking ear.

"I'm not repeating it."

I don't need her to. My cock heard her loud and clear. Hear that, buddy? Hear
that? You're such a good boy. So good to daddy.

"And now you're less angry, because you know we're going to have sex again?"

She shrugs. "It's not something I'm ruling out." Then she looks at me. "Wipe that
cocky grin off your face."

"Oh, Bella… according to you, I just can't help being so cocky."

"I'm really regretting telling you."

"Okay, okay. I'm done. I can't help that you give me such a big – "

"EDWARD!"

"Ego," I finish. I pat her hand, which is resting on the console between the seats.
She latches on to my fingers and squeezes. I think it's supposed to hurt, but I
just laugh. She scoffs, but doesn't let go of my hand.

xXxXx

I only smoke two cigarettes on the way there, which is pretty minimal for me. I'm
not a heavy smoker, but something about road trips make me chain smoke. I
think I'm too involved by Bella's commentary on everything.

"Look at that tree, Edward… ugh, you missed it!"

"We're going eighty."

"So… ugh. It was so cool. It looked like Grandmother Willow, from Pocahontas."

We pull off the exit to Forks, and then she's looking all nervous.

"Edward, I never told you my original confession…"

"No, no. I clearly remember you saying I have a big – "

"Not. That." Her teeth are clenched. "Okay… well, I told my dad that you were
straight."

I'm waiting for the punch line. "And…"

"Oh, I mean… before I knew you were straight. He was really against me living
with and/or being friends with a gay guy."

"That's so backwards," I laugh.

"And it's not because of homophobia," she quickly says. "Charlie is really… cool
about everything. It's just… you know. Jacob and… well, Emmett, to an extent,
really hurt me. And they're gay. So they're a target for his gun, and any other
gay man with the potential to hurt me."

"So he'd rather you live with a straight man?"

"He'd rather me live with a female. He wasn't thrilled about me living with a guy
who could ogle my tits, as you so eloquently call them, but… I mean. I don't
know, it just is a better alternative to listening to him go and on… even though he
probably thinks you're a perverted young man intent on stealing my virtue." She
laughs. "He totally thought I was a virgin until I was married. Like Jacob was
willing to wait that long… ha."

"Trying to avoid his sexuality early, huh?"

She looks thoughtful. "Hmmm… I've never really thought of that way. I'm not
sure. Probably. I guess the signs were always there… but it was Jake."

We're silent for another ten minutes, and then we're rolling through the sleepy
town of Forks. It's a town I can imagine being prosperous in the 1800's, but it
looks like nothing interesting has happened here since. It's got a couple gas
stations, some run down diners, and old shops. It's surrounded by mountains,
which is nice, but imagining growing up here is the equivalent of imagining my
soul being sucked out by a Hoover.

"This is it?" I wonder as she tells me to turn down a road. She points out the
police station, where she sees her dad's cop car. She says to just keep on going –
she'll see him later, and she needs to get started on dinner.

"It's not so bad," she says finally, after we turn onto another road. "I mean… I
know you grew up in Chicago. But every little town has some sort of charm…
even if the charm wears off quickly." She gives me a shy smile, and I rub her
neck with my thumb. She gives a sigh of satisfaction.

"It's just so quiet," I say finally. "I'm used to, you know – "

"City sounds, yeah. Here, this is me."

I pull into the yard of a small house. It's two stories, but it's narrow, like a strong
gust of wind could blow it over. It needs a new coat of paint and the gutters need
to be cleaned out, but it's kind of… nice, in a small town way. I can see Bella as a
teenager, swinging on the front porch, entertaining her now ex-husband... ugh.

We climb out of the car, and it's raining, of course. She laughs and grabs at her
bag, and then uses it as an umbrella as she stumbles up the stairs. I'm right
behind her, holding onto the small of her back, making sure she doesn't slip. She
fumbles with her keys and then we're inside.

It smells like a home. I was a spoiled little rich kid – I guess I still am – and all of
our houses always smelled like museums. But this smells like life. Like old pizza
and laundry and stale beer and Febreze.

"It's not much," she says hesitantly, hovering in the foyer. "But it's my home."

"I really like it," I tell her, and she breaks into this huge, pretty smile. She hugs
me on impulse, and even though we're both wet and cold, I squeeze her as
tightly as possible.

I guess it just hits me at once, but maybe this isn't a road trip. She's taken me
home to meet her father, to see her old life. She wants me to know more of her –
she trusts me to know more of her. And that seems pretty damn important.

xXxXx

She finds things in the house for some sort of stew, and an hour later, I'm
practically living with my nose in the pot, I'm so hungry. She's keeping it
simmering for Charlie, and toasting some bread on the range grill.

"Just a little," I groan.

"Edward," she snaps. "Charlie gets the first bowl."

I think there's a whining noise leaving my mouth, like a dog who's been left by
their owner.

Then, I hear a car pull up. Bella gives an excited giggle and goes into the foyer to
greet him. It's kind of cute, and I can't help but imagine Bella being at home all
day, cooking a meal for me, and then greeting me in the foyer when I get home
from work. It's a really great image, and my chest gets kind of tight.

Of course, I can't tell Bella about this image, because unless it somehow involves
her working on her PhD of awesome, she won't be interested. She's told me she
wants her own life, her own career. And I respect that, so I don't mention the
image, especially because it involves her greeting me in a French maid costume.
Like, one of those from the sex shop, with nipple holes.

I hear a man's voice in the foyer, answering easily to Bella's mile a minute
questions. I hear the sound of a gun unloading, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Then, Charlie – Mr. Swan… Chief Swan! – is around the corner. He stops dead in
his tracks. Fucking Bella, not telling him I was coming.

"Hello, Chief Swan," I say quietly, standing as he enters. "I'm Edward."

He grunts and shakes my hand. "Nice to meet you, son. Bella, is dinner ready?
I'm starved."

"Yes, Daddy…" She grabs a few bowls from the cabinet by the fridge. She still
calls him Daddy. That's kind of adorable. "Here." She's filling a bowl full of stew,
and then places two pieces of bread on the side. I can tell this is from years of
familiarity.

"Edward, you want some bread?" she asks me as Charlie takes a seat at the head
of the table.

"Yes, please," I say as politely as possible.

The stew is delicious, and dinner isn't as awkward as I thought it would be.
Charlie asks me a couple questions about my parents, my major, and where I
work. He nods thoughtfully each time I answer, and then Bella fills in the rest
with details about how awesome I am, and Charlie has a smile for her each time.

Charlie invites me in the living room to watch the ESPN highlights as Bella cleans
up after us. I'm not really into sports, but if the Chief is, I can be, too.

"Did Bella tell you about her ex-husband?" Charlie wonders after a few minutes of
him grunting and snorting at the TV.

"Yes, sir," I say, trying to make myself sound as pissed off about it as possible.

"I reckon you're the first… uh, man… straight man that she's ever brought home
to meet me. Jacob was the only one in her life since they were twelve, maybe
younger. I met Emmett, and he's a good guy, but it's important when a girl
brings a man home to meet her father. You know that, son?"

"I know that, sir."

"That's all I'm saying. It seems important to Bella, so it's important to me."

"It's… important to me, too, sir."

"Enough of that 'sir' shit, Edward. It's Charlie."

I try to hide my grin, but I can't help but feel I just passed some sort of test.
Maybe even the hardest test in the world.

xXxXx

xXxXx

In which I learn about intimacy

It's late. Bella's asleep. Charlie's asleep. I am not asleep, so I crack open my
laptop on the couch and look for a WiFi signal. Charlie doesn't have one, but a
neighbor does – I fist pump in success, and then browse my usual sites.

Facebook, two new friend requests. Email, no, I do not need to enlarge my cock.
Bored, I go to Wikipedia and search, and somehow, fifteen minutes later, I have
my headphones in and I'm watching two girls writhing against each other.

I have not masturbated in weeks – well, days, but it feels like weeks – because
as awkward as sex with Bella was, now that I know what I'm missing, my hand
doesn't feel like anything but a hand. I shift around a bit because the laptop is
getting hot on my erection. Glancing up, I nearly drop everything and I do shout.

Bella is standing there, hand on hip, smirking at me.

I take out my earbuds slowly and kind of grin at her. Maybe she didn't see. "Uh,
hi."

"Watching porn in the land of my youth, Cullen?"

"No…" Yes.

"Are you lying?"

"No…" Yes.

"You are so lying! Scoot over."

Um. Um. What? But I make room – I have no choice, she bumps me over with
her hip, and then lays her head on my shoulder. She is so close to my erection,
and I feel like if she breathes on me the wrong way, I'll come in my pajama
bottoms like a fifteen year old.

"Press play," she demands.

"Are you…"

"Press. Play."

I hesitate a second longer, so she does it for me. I hand her an earbud, and she
takes it gracefully and puts it in her ear. I put in the other one, but I'm watching
her, not the two blondes with the tongues and the – okay, maybe I am watching
it.

"You definitely don't seem to have any aversion to lesbians," she snorts, but
quiets down again. We watch in silence for a couple minutes, and I'm glad she
has the laptop in her lap, because it would have fallen off of mine by now.

"I've never done that," she says suddenly, pointing at the screen. The two girls
are engaged in a very loud sixty-nine session.

"It's okay," I tell her, even though the moans and squeals from the girls on the
screen tell a much more exaggerated story. "It's not for everyone – but if you like
oral, then it's great."

"You don't like oral?" She nudges me, finding this hard to believe.

"I do," I answer slowly. "I mean, I'm not going to object to a girl wanting to suck
my dick." She rolls her eyes at me, but I continue. "But I think oral is kind of…
um, intimate. More intimate than sex, because it's like… during sex, you can
concentrate on yourself and you don't have to worry about the other person. But
if you're down on them, doing your thing… you're kind of saying, hey, this is all
about you."

"And you don't like that?" She's smiling really softly at me.

"Bella, you don't just stick your face in uncharted territory, okay?" She laughs at
me, and I scoff. "I'm serious. Are you just going to go put your mouth on
someone's cock without knowing where it's been?"

"You went down… on me." She is whispering, but still smiling.

I can barely remember anything of that night. It all happened so fast, so weirdly.
"Did I?"

"Yeah – just for a second. When I was… close. You made me… come." She's still
whispering, and god, she's so shy and sexy at the same time. "You made me
come like that. It felt… really nice. No one… Jake never… well, I understand now.
I wasn't sprouting a penis down there, so he probably didn't want anything to do
with it…"

I press 'pause' on the porn, because I may not be the most morally upstanding
citizen, but I don't think watching two girls eating each other out is appropriate
for this conversation.

"Okay, you know that's the reason, right? Not that you aren't attractive, Bella.
But that you just… don't have the right parts." I've wanted to ask her this
forever.

She gives me a look. "Are you asking me if I think I'm pretty?" She shoves me. "I
just told you that despite your aversion to oral sex, you made me come that way,
and you're concentrating on my feelings?"

"Don't make me sound like a jackass."

"I'm not. I just think hanging around Emmett so much… some of that sensitivity
might have rubbed off on you, or something."

"Don't insult me!"

She laughs and leans against me. "Oh wow."

"What?"

"You are… really hard right now."

"Do not talk about my erection when your father is sleeping above us."

"But really… you are." She eyes it. "Were you that hard when we…?"

"Um. I don't know. Maybe? Performance anxiety. Why?" I think I'm squeaking.
"Did it look small?"

"No." She leans closer. "But it looks… bigger now."

"Oh god."

She looks back up at me. "You've made me really happy this past month."

"Yeah?" Why do girls want to converse when all of the blood has left my brain?

"And… I know I'm kind of psycho. And I know we've had a really weird start. And
I don't know why it's so important to you to put up with me and to show me that
you really like me and that's why you did all this."

"I don't want to go anywhere else." That's coherent, right? "You really… I can't
explain it. It doesn't make much sense, right? This little girl, this man hater…
totally got my attention. I was lonely, and you were so… funny. Pretty. Smart.
And kind of safe, I guess. Someone I didn't have to put on airs for, because you
didn't think – "

"Your air flowed that way?"

I snicker. "Yeah, something like that. Garrett leaving was weird and kind of…
fatalistic, I guess, if I can say that without you accusing me of being Emmett
again."

"Oh, Edward Cullen, talking about fate." She fans herself. "So hot."

"Shut up."

She sighs. "Actually, it's kind of funny. The whole situation… I was pretty pissed
at first. Totally revenge-sexed you."

"Yes, I'm aware."

"But… from what you've told me over the last month… you were kind of a whore."

"I was not!"

"Yeah, you were. At least a little. And then you become totally celibate – for me!"
She looks up at me, smiling. "It's more than a little flattering to say the least."

"Oh, great."

"It's more than that, Edward. Don't get me wrong. But it's… nice. To think about,
you know? You in all of these situations where you could have pressed your
advantage with me, but you never did. You've seen me naked more than God
has, but you never crossed the line."

"I think crossing the line would have blown my cover."

"I think if you were less of a man, you would have cared more about getting in
me than your cover." She scratches her head. "I was married and my husband
didn't even show me that kind of respect… he cheated on me. But even though it
was initially selfish, your thoughts were always of me. And that's really… an
admirable thing coming out of a really weird situation."

I smile at her and kiss her face. There's really nothing that can be said to that
without me sounding like a total jackass, so I just bathe her face in little kisses
until she's shooing me away.

"Anyway," she says, wiping her face. "I'm really bad at this seduction thing,
but…"

My ears prick up. "Seduction thing?"

"I really… wanted to say thanks. For all this."

"Uh…"

She pushes me onto my back and sets the laptop on the floor. She climbs over
me and sits on my knees. She's hesitating, and I don't know what makes me do
it, but I lean forward and kiss her neck. She sighs and lets me, and I run my lips
down to her pulse point, and then across her clavicle.

She fumbles with my gym shorts, and I lift my hips to accommodate her, because
I'm a gentleman. We both pull them down to my ankles, and it's really kind of
embarrassing because I have on grey boxers, which show every single wet spot,
and there's one dot of leakage from the porn earlier, and… she's touching me.

She's not shy, this one. She doesn't do the halfhearted over-the-boxers-fondle.
She goes in for the kill, and her fist is wrapped around my cock before I can
blink.

"Ummmmmmphhhh." That's all I can do as far as sounds go.

"Shhh."

Good. Quiet. She wants quiet. I can do quiet. And then I guess I've just totally
misinterpreted her intentions, because I am in her mouth and it's soft and spongy
and wet and hot and oh my god kill me now, I can die now, everything is so
perfect.

She's unsure, but she keeps her teeth away. Besides, there's no such thing as a
bad blowjob. It's like pizza… when it's bad, it's still good. She finds some sort of
rhythm, and god, it's so good, so so so –

Then she channels her inner porn star and deep throats me. It's good, so good,
and I'm going to come really, embarrassingly soon. But she gags, and it's an
awful sound. She's coughing and choking and then there are tears and she's
crying against my chest.

My cock is smooshed against her soft stomach and my shirt. I'm afraid one wrong
move will leave me castrated, but I'm totally helpless.

"Bella, Bella? Bella, shhh… it's okay. Stop, not everyone can deep throat – "

She mumbles something that sounds like "clucking nidiot," and continues to cry.

"Maybe…" I hedge. "Maybe if you told me what was wrong?"

"I'm sorry," she whispers against my neck. "I'm so stupid."

"You're definitely not stupid, but you are kind of crushing my balls."

That makes her cry harder, so I pat her back and shimmy my hips around so they
are free from her thigh prison.

"Stop," I whisper. "Charlie is going to come down here to kill me for making you
cry, and then when I run for my life, he's going to notice my dick hanging out, so
that's really – "

"Sorry." She rubs her nose against my shirt and kind of sighs. She's hiccupping a
bit and tears are still flowing, but the sobs have stopped. "Can you take me back
to my room?"

"Okay."

She shifts off of me, and I pull up my shirts and stuff my dwindling erection back
into my shorts. I hold out a hand to her, and she takes it, and we climb the stairs
back to her room.

She gets under the covers. It's the purple comforter from her high school years,
and there are finger paintings and outdated photographs still on the walls. But

the girl in the bed is no longer a child, and I'm finding out it's going to take a lot
more than just making her laugh to make her happy.

I brush her hair away from her face and sit down on the edge of the bed. "Want
to tell me what that was all about?"

"No," she moans. "But I will, because you don't deserve to be sobbed on without
explanation."

"Well… you can," I say quietly. "You don't… have to have a reason. It's kind of
like guys and masturbating, you know? We do it because we want to, or because
we're bored… and I think girls do the same."

She rolls her eyes, but her smile is soft. "Idiot. No. Jake would… you know how
you were talking about how oral is intimate?"

"Yeah."

"Well, after a while, Jake's… well, our sexual relationship boiled down to blowjobs.
Whenever I wanted sex, he was too tired. Then he would say we could do oral,
but would always quote-unquote fall asleep before he could reciprocate. It's so
obvious now, and towards the end… it got bad. I guess when he was with
Emmett, it got harder to be with me, so he would kind of… shove my head down
when I was doing that, and…"

"Stop," I say, holding my hand up. "I get it, and if you tell me anymore, I'm
leaving right now to hunt down that fucker."

She sighs. "Yeah. I'm really… I'm an idiot. I shouldn't have done that." She puts
her hair behind her left ear and continues. "Just, what you were saying about
intimacy… that was so, so beautiful. I want that. With you. Eventually. Now. I
can't tell. I thought I was ready, but now I don't…"

I bend down so my nose is touching hers. "Bella, listen. I'm not here to give
anyone lectures on what intimacy is, but I don't think it's just about sex. I think
this is pretty intimate… you sharing your story with me. It's all I wanted, to know
you. Well, and to fuck you – but… you know."

"Cute, Edward."

I take her hand. "Do you remember what I did when I showed you I wanted you
that night I told you I was straight?"

"Yeah," she whispers. "You put my hand on your dick."

"Yeah, and all that did was show you how I was acting. Like a dick. That was
wrong. I'm not good with this stuff…" I lock eyes with her, and they're so close, I
can see little bits of gold in them. I've never noticed that… her tits were (and are)
far more fascinating than her eye color. But still, it's very pretty.

"You seem good at it to me," she tells me.

"I should have done this instead," I continue. I move her hand to my heart, and
then lightly kiss her pretty mouth. It's chaste and she doesn't move her lips
except to place them against mine, but it's everything.

"This is how I want you the most," I whisper when I back away. "It's what all the
stupid shit I did was for – a place in your life and your heart. I could have easily
found someone to deep throat me, Bella. But that's not the kind of intimacy I
crave from you, okay?"

She nods and smiles and kisses me with that happy mouth. It's not any more
passionate as far as lust goes, but I feel so much from it. It's innocent and tender
and so, so gentle, like the world is going to crack apart once we separate.

She clings to me as I get back up. There's no way I can stay up here, but the
knowledge that she wants me to may be the happiest feeling in the universe.

Which is, you know, good. Since I have the worst case of blue balls probably
ever.

xXxXx

I wake up the next morning to the smells and sounds of bacon sizzling. The couch
was extremely uncomfortable, especially knowing what I was missing upstairs. I
sit up and roll my neck, and then shuffle into the kitchen.

Charlie is sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee and eating some scrambled
eggs. Bella is at the stove, cursing as the bacon grease pops her.

"Morning," she says once she spies me. She has a smile for me.

"Morning, Edward," greets Charlie, looking over his shoulder at me briefly. "Sleep
well?"

"Yeah… it was great."

He snorts behind his beard. "My ass. That couch saw its last days in the
seventies. Sorry about that."

I shrug, and my neck pops. Everyone laughs, and I take a seat at the table.
Pouring myself a glass of OJ, I lean back and watch Bella as she cooks.

"Thanks for all of your help, gentlemen," she grouses, putting down paper towels
on a plate she's about the place the bacon on.

"Less talking, more cooking," I offer.

Charlie holds up his coffee mug to me, and we clink our glasses together in a
cheers.

"You two," she scoffs. "So completely useless." But she drops a kiss on Charlie's
head as she puts the plate down in front of him. She shoves me a bit, which isn't
as good as a kiss, but it's better than nothing.

"So, what are you two doing today?" Charlie asks as Bella settles down.

I shrug and look to her.

"Just running around town. There's not much to Forks, but I know Edward can't
wait to see all the sights."

She's totally getting me back for insulting it yesterday.

Charlie gives me a sympathetic look.

I really like this man.

xXxXx

Our riveting day concludes at the Thriftway, where Bella is shopping for food to
fill up Charlie's cabinets. The cart is nearly overflowing, and when we get up to

the cashier lanes, I don't even notice that she's no longer behind me since I'm so
preoccupied with pushing the damn thing.

"Finally," I sigh. She doesn't answer. I look around. She's gone. "Bella?"

"Edward," she hisses from somewhere to my left.

"Where are you?"

"Over here."

"Helpful." I follow her voice until I see her crouching down in the next lane. "What
the hell are you doing?"

"That's Jacob."

It's some Pavlovian thing, but my adrenaline instantly kicks into hyper drive once
she says that name. "Jacob? Where is that fucker?" My voice is loud.

"He's the cashier in that lane!" She points to the lane our cart is still sitting in.
There are a couple people before us, so we're not holding up the line. However,
no other lane is open, so we're presented with a bit of a problem.

I look over, and holy shit. I mean… holy shit. I'm not a small guy – I'm a bit over
six feet and a solid one-eighty. But this motherfucker is huge.He has to be almost
seven feet tall and two seventy-five.

"God damn," I whisper. "Oh well. Come on." I grab her hand and pull her over
towards that lane.

"No – what are you – " She's struggling.

"Let me tell you something. There's nothing worse than seeing your ex with a
new guy, okay? All guys want to believe that we're so fucking cool no other guy
will ever top us. It really hits our ego hard when we're proven incorrect. So we're
going to hurt his ego a bit, okay? He deserves it." I yank her again.

She sighs and follows me. "I look awful."

"You look fine. And even if you didn't… so?"

"Let me tell you something. There's nothing worse than seeing your ex and
looking like total shit, Edward. You want them to think you're glowing without
them and more beautiful than they could ever imagine."

"You're more beautiful than he deserves to look at," I grouse. "Just play along.
Like with Alice."

Something sparks in her eye, and then she's giggling and shoving me. "No, stop
– we're in public, Edward!"

I bend her over the cart handle and kiss her neck. "I don't care. Let them watch,
baby."

She shoves at me, and then pulls me closer again. I kiss her sweet lips, and she
smiles against my mouth and wraps her arms around my neck. It feels so real,
but in a completely different way this time. Like this is just some sickeningly
sweet version of who we really are together.

Then she shoves me again. "Oops! God, stop… I can't concentrate when you do
that." She turns and starts putting the groceries on the conveyer belt.

I lean over her and whisper in her ear. "He's staring right at us, and his face is
priceless. Don't look up." I move her hair and kiss down her neck.

She sighs and leans back against my chest. "You need to stop distracting me and
start earning your keep around here. Help me with these!"

Jacob rings up his last customer, and then it's our turn. I push the cart forward as
Bella double checks everything, and I'm just waiting for it –

"Bella?" His voice is artificially surprised.

"Jake?" Hers is much better. Good girl. "Wow, hi… you work here now?"

"Yeah…" He starts ringing up our things. That's right. Work for me, bitch. "I got
laid off from the shop."

She clucks her tongue sympathetically. "That sucks. Sorry to hear that."

He shrugs. He's bagging our shit sloppily, and usually I wouldn't care, but –

"Hey, can you be more careful? I don't really want to have a spill with all those
heavy jars you're putting in there." I give him my best I'm-totally-being-an-
asshole smile. Guys know that smile. It's universal.

"Sure, sure," he mutters. He rearranges a few things, and then gives me the
same smile. "Better?"

"Definitely." So much better. You're wearing a stupid vest, and I'm kind of having
sex with your ex-wife. I win.

"So, I thought you lived in Seattle now," Jacob says to her as he starts ringing us
up again.

"I do," she says, smiling at me. "With Edward here. Oh, I'm so rude… I haven't
introduced you. Edward, this is Jake, my ex-husband."

I love that title. I love that she uses it. Ex-husband. HA.

"And Jake, this is my boyfriend, Edward."

I love that title even more. I smile at her, and then extend a hand to him. He
takes a fumbling second to get to it because he's ringing up our items – doesn't
get old – so I pull my hand away.

"Shit, sorry man. I forgot – you're busy with your hands." I know my smile is
smug.

Bella sidles up next to me, bumping me out of the way. I grab her pretty, boney
hips and kiss her hair. This boyfriend thing? Yeah, I could really get used to it.

We're walking out with our purchases, and I'm giving Bella a triumphant high-five
when it officially becomes a situation.

"Bella!"

It's that asshole's voice. We both turn, and Jacob is jogging up to us, his vest
hanging off a massive arm.

"Hey… I have a break now," he says, addressing her solely. "Maybe we could
talk?"

She looks at him like he's insane. "Um, no. I've got to get these groceries home."

"Edward can take them home, and I'll give you a ride later."

"Hey, listen, asshole – " I start, my blood simmering. This must be how angry
Chihuahuas feel when staring down a Doberman.

Bella stops me with a touch. "I really don't know what we have to talk about,
Jake."

He shrugs. "I don't know… we've been friends for all our lives, Bella. Surely we
could spend a few minutes catching up."

"Okay," she says, and I gape. But then she continues. "How's this for the
lowdown? After I caught you cheating on me, I left Forks and went to Seattle. I
lived with Emmett – oh yeah, I did – for about a year, until I met Edward. We've
been living together for about five months now. And guess what? Even though he
has to deal with all the emotional baggage you left me with… he – he loves me,
and… I love him, a lot, more than I ever thought I could love anyone. Even you.
So you did me a favor, really, so thanks. Really, from the bottom of my heart."

I'm winded. She loves me. She told off her ex. She's awesome. She's stalking off.
I should follow her. I don't. I turn to Jacob and say:

"Oh, by the way… Emmett says hi."

He lunges, and I dodge, and his weight works against him. He falls against the
ground, and I laugh like an immature kid and run off.

Bella is loading groceries into my trunk, laughing hysterically. "God, Cullen…
you're such an asshole."

"But you love me?" It's supposed to be an arrogant statement, but it comes out
more like a scared question.

She shakes her head at me. Then, in the parking lot of Thriftway, in front of her
ex and God and country, she kisses me. It's full of everything words might have
left out, and I'm gasping and groaning against her mouth as she presses me
against my car.

Then she backs away and pats my face. "Yeah… I guess you'll do."

Oh, hell yes.

xXxXx

xXxXx

In which I finally get some peace

We arrive home safely, which is a miracle. Jesus took one look at my thoughts,
told me I was on my own, and let my dick take the wheel instead. The apartment
is quiet and dark when we enter. I'm hungry, but I think something more
important is going to take place. The air is still with tension, and Bella's hand
hasn't left mine.

"Glad to be home?" I ask, throwing my bags over the couch. "I am. That was one
long-ass – "

Whatever. Bella doesn't care to hear my whining, because one second I'm doing
so, and then the next second, I have a tongue in my mouth. Which is fine, not
complaining here – I usually wind up in trouble when I speak, and you know –

No, don't know where I'm going with that. But Bella knows where she's going
with me, against the wall, knocking into the coffee table, slamming me into my
door – that's really rude – and then finally, flat on my back in bed.

"Um," I mumble around her insistent kisses and licks. "Just – just to be clear, is
sex –"

"Lose the pants, Cullen."

All right, well, I guess that's that. The pants go flying, and so do hers, and then
we're naked and kissing and everything is frantically frenetic, and this is natural
and good and hot and wet and just the tip?

"Condom," she insists, shoving at my chest with her foot.

"Condom," I grouse, making sure to stick my erection rudely in her face as I lean
across her to grab one.

That didn't go exactly as planned, seeing as she took that opportunity to employ
her skills as a vacuum. I pull myself out of her mouth with a pop, and she looks
disappointed. Yeah, I fucking love her.

"There will be plenty of time for that later," I soothe.

She kicks me again. So violent. I grab her knees and force them apart… so she
can't kick me, and because she's so pink and flushed between her legs. I wrestle
with the condom, but I want a taste of her, just a bit. My tongue finds her, and
her hands find my hair, and she's hurting me and loving me and I don't care that
she's been in denim in a car for the past four hours without a shower, she's
feeling so good that all of that is just white noise. I guess that's what love is –
part of it, anyway.

Maybe love is all of these things combined, lies and truth, deception and reality,
glamour and facades. Maybe it's putting your tongue on that girl just because she
makes those noises. Maybe it's being a liar, and the feeling when she forgives
you. Maybe it's laughter, and maybe it's screaming fights, and maybe it's ignoring
questionable body noises. Maybe it's just her, and the way she's always looked at
me, as her best friend, and the way she's looking at me right now, as someone
she wants more and more of, all the time.

Or maybe I'm just trying to make sense out of something that doesn't need sense
to clog it up. What we have is weird, messy, and nonsensical, but it's ours, and
we make it work.

I drag my lips up her body and kiss her. She makes a face but kisses me back,
digging her heels into my back like I'm a horse and she wants faster.

"Whoa, Nelly," I chide, pulling back to line us up, A and B, plug and socket, my
cock and ohmygoddddmmmphhhh.

It's different. I mean, not wax poetic different, because all sex is good just
because it's sex. But with her, this second time, there's something different. I
mean, the first time, it was robotic. It was Bella and it was me and it was good,

but it wasn't like this. There was no scratching or hair pulling or the way she
keeps using the legs crossed behind my back to pump my hips harder into her –
it was just the motions. But this is life, death, breath and drowning. It's harder
and softer and meeting her demands and some of my own. It's making her feel
hot when she's on top, and holding her tits so she doesn't cover their bounce
from my eyes. It's guiding her hips, but not too much. It's getting impatient and
rolling her back over.

It's pulling out and rubbing her clit and getting her on the brink before going back
in, and it's her wide-eyed wonder at coming while someone is inside her for the
first time. It's her wanting to do it again, but I can't, because I'm coming and
never going, not ever.

I'm heavy, and she groans when I flop down on her. I can't move a muscle. I
think every particle of energy in my body shot out of my dick and into the
condom, which is getting a mess on the bed. I don't care, though. I am in my
sexma… sex coma… it doesn't work, but neither does my brain right now. Or
anything. I'm dead. Dead to the world. That was my cock's last hurrah.

"Hi," she whispers against my hair, and it's shy and it's fucking cute.

I lift my head and roll to the side. She follows me and lands on the condom. She
squeals and I laugh and she hits me and I laugh more. I take the thing off with a
wet slap, and she makes this awful upchucking noise. I dangle it over her face,
and she goes red in the way that helpfully informs me that it's time to stop
playing now. I throw it away, and she churlishly curls up to me, pinching my ribs
every few seconds until I bite her knuckles.

We engage in this immature (fun) play for another couple minutes before she
yawns and calls a truce. I agree, and then pinch her cute little ass. She kicks me
half-heartedly, and then murmurs how warm I am. I know, baby. Settle in tight
next to daddy.

I watch her sleep until it's creepy to continue. I get up and find something to
cover my lower half with, and then shuffle into the kitchen. I'm starving and
happy, happier than I can ever remember being. I'm mad that I can't keep the
smile off my face because it seems so scripted. I guess this is one thing the
movies got right – when you love a girl, and she loves you back, and you have a
frozen pizza, life can't get any better.

xXxXx

I guess the supreme pizza is an aphrodisiac. Bella walks into the kitchen,
groaning about how good it smells and bitching about having to go back to work
the next day. One minute, I'm half listening, half staring at her tits, and the next,
her tits are in my mouth and hands, and I don't have to pretend to listen
anymore, because she's no longer making English-sounding noises.

She slides down the counter, taking my flannel PJ bottoms with her. I want to tell
her that I'm sorry about my sweaty balls, but I don't think this is the right time
for that. I guess she doesn't mind, because god damn, that's good. For some
reason, I guess because I'm a man, my thoughts go to something awful, like her
doing this with that big douche bag ex of hers. I wonder stupid shit, like if he
taught her this, because let's face it, no one is born knowing how to oral-ize the
opposite sex.

Then that makes me think about Jake and Emmett, doing… stuff. It would be
like… two mountains smashing together, making a river at the end.

And my boner's gone.

"Edward?" She's hurt. Shit. Quick, think fast. No, no thinking. Just look at the
tits, the nice, pretty tits… yes. "Oh, hello." She sucks my returning erection back
between her lips.

Hello, yes, mmmppphhh. No, no, coming too quickly, you aren't fifteen, Edward. I
hoist her up by the armpits, turn her around, smash her body halfway into the
supreme pizza, listen to her bitch about it for approximately two seconds, and
then hit it from the back. Like a rapper porn star. Or a white kid from Chicago.

And then I lose all possible narration skills, because it's just a bunch of
'unnnghhh' 'mmmm' 'oh shit' 'fuck, fuck, fuck' 'yes, right there' 'pull my hair
harder' and then a big, 1812 overture worthy explosion.

"No condom," she squeaks as I pull out, and my DNA runs down her leg.

"Oh shit." I think I squeaked too. "I heard if you, um, douche with a Coke, it kills
the sperm."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Why don't I put bleach up there while I'm at it?"

"That seems extreme." But I'm trying to be supportive. "But, uh… if you want to
do that, I have some Clorox under the sink."

She looks horrified. "Edward, I was just kidding! I'm on birth control. I was just
trying to freak you out, but now you're scaring the shit out of me with your
bleach talk!"

"You started it!"

She just laughs. "I'm choosing to just… nope, that conversation is gone. Want
some pizza? You have to eat it off my cleavage… that's where the rest of it is,
thanks to your awesome foresight."

"I'm not complaining."

"If you eat so much as one pepper off me, you're cut off. Hand me a napkin."

I do, completely put out. "Fine. Pull your shirt back up, skank."

"Pull your pants back up, slut."

"No. I like this free feeling."

"I'll just call Emmett then – "

The pants go up. "Not funny."

She sits down at our table, chewing on a piece of pizza that wasn't smooshed.
"Speaking of Emmett… it's been forever."

I sit across from her. "Yeah. It has. I miss that asshole."

"Did you ever meet Rosalie?" She puts her hair up with a thingy that was
wrapped around her wrist. "The tall, gorgeous bartender at the Nugget?"

"Hell yes," I say suddenly. "She made me a Tom Collins, and then asked if there
wasn't enough fairy dust in it when I wouldn't drink it. The same night I met you
and Emmett."

Bella giggles. "Yeah, she's quite a character. Apparently, she's Emmett's new
'hag.' They've been seen together everywhere."

"Are you cool with that?"

She gives me a strange look. "What do you mean?"

"Well…" I pause, trying to word this correctly. I don't always have the gift of
eloquence. "You and Emmett stopped hanging out so much when you thought I
was gay, and we kind of became the, uh… team. But then, you know, all the shit
happened, and I'm not gay… I just wanted to make sure you don't miss that, or if
you do, I don't have an issue with you having that back. Or, I mean – that
sounds bad. I'm not like, giving you permission, like an asshole. I'm just saying –
"

She puts her hand over my babbling lips. "Do I miss Emmett? Yeah, of course. He
is, was, whatever, my best friend. But you – Edward… you're irreplaceable to
me." She actually flushes, and not in an I'm-about-to-kick-your-ass way. "I told
you how I felt about you, but I guess… technically, I told Jacob."

My heart is pounding against my ribs. Am I dying? This can't be a normal
reaction. "Yeah?"

"I don't know what we're going to tell people who ask us how we met," she
laughs, tugging at her short little forehead-hair thing. "But I guess that doesn't
matter, right? I mean… stuff still hurts sometimes, like with Jake, and you… but I
think that's life. I mean, does stuff ever stop hurting? Like, I remember being
betrayed by my BFF in second grade, and I still remember how much that hurts,
and it stings a bit."

"Emmett grinded on me with an erection. That memory still hurts…"

She looks annoyed. "Not exactly the same sentiment. Anyway… I guess my point
is, the life with Emmett was just existing, you know, trying to get through each
day with a smile on my face. We were a depressed pair for a while, and it was
hard to talk to each other since we were depressed about the same thing." She
smiles sadly. "Then you come along, and you were different and weird… and
really, really hot."

"Oh yeah…" Tell me more.

"And you know, there was something off about you – but I always just kind of
thought it was your nervousness about being a recently outted gay man. I mean,
all the times you saw me naked…"

"Let's not talk about how much I flayed my dick raw due to those times. I still
limp when I think about it."

"Then your sister tells me how much of a man whore you were – "

"I resent that."

"So… I started thinking you were bisexual. And it made me look at you twice, not
as my hot gay BFF, but as my hot roommate who was funny and sweet in a weird
way…"

"Yes…?"

"Well, I mean… I never thought I'd open myself up again. And maybe I haven't all
the way yet. Maybe you'll have to wrench me open, drag me kicking and
screaming. But I'll be there, opening up for you. You're worth it, and… I love you,
Edward."

My smile cracks my face open. I kiss her and tell her I love her over and over,
and then show her, with my hands and lips and cock and heart.

xXxXx

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I whisper, watching Emmett and Rosalie (who
looks terrifying) come towards our table.

"Of course I am," Bella replies.

"I don't believe you." I pull her closer to me, loving the press of her tits against
my chest. "This has bad idea written all over it. Rosalie is a scary Amazon
woman, and Emmett – "

" - Has missed you, too, Steer," Emmett cuts in, sliding down the booth opposite
of us.

Clearly, I wasn't whispering as well as I thought. "Awesome."

"Bella, you know Rosie," Emmett says, squeezing Bella's hand from over the
table. "She works at the Nugget at night and owns that mechanic shop near my
apartment."

I have visions of her using a wrench to screw off my balls if I come across rude. I
wince, and Bella puts her ankle under my calf, hooking her foot to me. It's
comforting.

"Of course," answers Bella, sipping her water. "It's good to see you again."

"Edward, this is Rosalie, the scary Amazon woman."

"Uh, hi." Shit. Shit.

"Grrr," says Rosalie dryly, causing all of us to laugh. "I remember you. The little
bitch with the Tom Collins."

"I wanted a beer," I protest. "Natty Light, Sam Adams, I don't care. Any of those
would have been better."

"I ordered the drinks," Emmett recalls. "I so wanted in your pants."

"Ain't happenin'," I say quickly.

"Notice my use of past tense," he says rudely.

"Oh… uh… good." Why am I offended? Damn it.

We have dinner, and it's good. Rosalie is funny and a total bitch, which brings out
Bella's funny-bitchy side. Why do girls play off each other like that? Emmett and
Rosalie laugh at inside jokes, and I squeeze Bella's hand whenever I see her
slightly sad smile. I know she misses that camaraderie, no matter what she says.
It means that much more to me, knowing she chose me over that, even if she

didn't have to. I guess she just knows her single party days are over, whereas
Emmett's are still going strong.

When dinner ends, Emmett pulls Bella to the side. I watch them carefully –
Bella's sad nods and half-smile, and Emmett's comforting 'big bear' laughter and
hugs. I can tell it's a parting of the ways, a 'we'll always be friends, but…' – and I
feel for her. It sucks when certain chapters of your life are over, no matter how
good the next chapters will be.

They finish their talk, and when Bella returns to me, she presses her face in my
chest. I wrap my arms around her small shoulders and wonder if this is the best
part of love – not the words, not the kisses, not the sex (okay, that's a lie), but
the quiet admissions of comfort, and the knowledge that the other person will
always be there with a warm chest and arms to hold you.

Emmett grins at me from over Bella's shoulder, and I have to smile back. He and
I will never be good friends, because his entire purpose was to teach me how to
be something I'm not, and to aggravate me for months. But I like him, and I feel
for him, and I hope he finds the happiness he deserves. If I can find happiness
like the small woman sniffling against my heart, then so can he – so should he.

"Take care of her, Steer," he says in a father-like voice. He claps me on the
shoulder, and then pinches my ass.

I barely flinch – some things never change.

I kiss Bella's hair and hope, with all of me, that some things never will.

xXxXx

xXxXx

In which Bella messes up my happily ever after

One-ish Year Later

Taking Bella to Chicago with me was a good idea… for the most part. My family
freaking loves her, except Alice, who's still pissed at her for 'forgiving' me. Alice is
a little twat, though, so none of us take her seriously. Even Bella, who is usually
nice even if she shouldn't be, has started openly ragging on her.

But she's also drunk, and it's Christmas. She keeps saying things like, "Alice, did
it hurt when you fell? From the North Pole?" and "Alice, with your nose so bright,
I'm gonna fuck your brother tonight" to the tune of Rudolph, The Red Nose
Reindeer.

It's been a good year. Bella's gone back to school, and I finally got my bachelor's
degree last semester. We moved into a smaller apartment – only one room, with
a huge bed we bought with the money we saved. We're still young, but I think
this is it for me. I haven't bought – or even looked at – a ring or anything, but
we've started asking each other about future goals and children and good places
to raise a family, so it's probably only a matter of time. When you know, you
know. Sometimes, things are that simple.

There's been a lot of screaming and a lot of sex (sometimes those two things
coincided), but there's been a lot of learning and love, too. Being a good partner
isn't always innate, and it's been a ride, being taught when to push and when to

back off, when to hold her and when to leave her alone, and when no actually
means yes, and yes means 'I dare you.'

I pick back up on the conversation around the table as Bella takes another cup of
Egg-nog. I'm going to need to surreptitiously cut her off soon, because she's
starting to slur her words.

"I don't think we've ever gotten a clear answer on how you two met," my mom
says, holding up her own Egg-nog. It sloshes over the cup. God, she's drunk, too.
This can't be good.

"Because Edward has forbidden me to tell you!" Bella crows. "I've wanted to,
because I think it's hilarious – "

"Baby, let's just – "

"No, shut up, Edward. Are you ashamed?"

What a slippery slope. There's not a damn thing I can say that won't sound
asshole-ish. "Um, do you want another cookie?"

"NO. I want to tell your mom how we met. Anyway, Esme, it was adorable… kind
of. I mean, okay… well…"

I'm praying to every single god of humility at this point. Oh please please
please…

"Edward here acted like he was gay for months, just so he could get to know me!
Isn't that cute?"

Every single pair of eyes turns towards me.

Shit.

xXxXx