Sleep Talk by newlovenewhate

Sleep Talk by newlovenewhate

Summary: Bella and Edward, a friendly conumdrum... Two weeks to figure it out.

Two weeks to talk and kiss and touch. Two weeks to fall in love.

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6571467/1/

I call it my sleep walk. I walk whilst others sleep. I don't dream. But I substitute
my reality for something dreamier. Night sky provides this. A light jacket and
house clothes. A flask of warm cocoa in a hot right hand—and I sip—and I walk—
and I dream under street lights.

I go unnoticed. Everyday. Like vapour. I rise only to disappear.

Thin air.

I feel low and high. Sometimes. Like superior in my loneliness because I'm living
it. Like being this way is harder.

No one to impress but myself.

Walk, until I hit the corner.

And there he is.

"Why good morn' sleeping beauty."

I smile. Sarcastically. This boy is always awake when I am. Always waiting for me
to appear. Knows my routine. Is there to piss me off.

"Thumbs up on the sleep wear."

He looks down. Looks back up with a grin. His threadbare pyjama pants leaves
little to the imagination. Not that he cares. He's shameless and pretty in the dim
of his porch light.

"Sit."

I do, and I slouch, twist the cap, and use the lid to pour him some warmth.

"Yum." He pats his belly. "Best." His hand disappears into his pants. He's palming
his junk.

Why do boys do that?

I shrug and sip. I look into the night sky and think about things.

His arm rests on the back of the bench swing.

We say nothing, do nothing.

I think he's my only friend, in some capacity, my best.

"I'm leaving Forks in two weeks," he tells me.

I stay still, outwardly unaffected.

"Military school," he adds.

I get it.

He's a bit of a fuck up.

Skips school, smokes, back talks.

"Thought you might want to know."

My insides ice over. "Why would you think that?"

He looks at me, at rise of my brow, the scrunch of my nose. He leans inward and
speaks softly, his lips a second from mine, "I like this." Then his finger appears
from nowhere—from inside the hot of his threadbare pyjama pants. He traces the
cupid bow of my top lip. He licks his bottom.

I should care that those fingers were just cupping his penis— that they might
have just contaminated my skin, but I don't. "You do?"

Something warm tingles inside.

He nods once. Eyes never leave my lips. He leans close. Nose to nose. Hot
breath. Sex and chocolate. "I'll miss you."

He kisses me, soft and slow. His mouth is warm and wet.

Makes me breathe harder.

I pull back and sit back.

I wonder what this means.

It means nothing.

He's just a mean boy with a sweet tongue.

We spend the rest of the night staring at the sky. Like always. Two weeks until
I'm alone again.

Two weeks.

Waiting for the sun to set makes me anxious. Prior to being kissed by Edward,
boys had no effect on me. Now, I'm waiting to see him again, waiting for the next
step. Need to know…

The climate is an unsure temperament of wet and warm. I don't understand it. It
fits the mood quite perfectly. The sky, overcast, grows in shades of grey and dull
navy. Clouds scatter, and I pray that the rain will stop.

And it does.

Thankfully.

I wait for Charlie, my father, to sound off—that wheezing snore that alerts me to
an all clear. I creep down stairs in layers of pyjamas and sweat pants. I slip on a
sweater. I punch my arms through an overcoat. I look into the mirror of our
hallway.

Could a kiss make you pretty?

I feel that way tonight.

Pretty.

Sparkly eyes and puffy lips.

I pout at myself. Try to look…

prettier.

I look stupid.

I frown.

Huffing, I go to the kitchen. I make hot chocolate, fill a flask, twist the cap, and
walk to the door.

Same as always. Walk until I hit the corner, until I spot him. He's there, sitting
slouchy on a bench swing. He nods once when I reach him. "Sup."

I roll my eyes and sit. I notice his arm is stretched out behind me. I push off on
one foot and allow us a slow pivot. I lift the flask. "You want?"

"Yea." He watches as I pour. Takes the lid from my fingers and uses it to warm
his.

"Why are you always half naked?" I eye the way his small nipples poke through
his sleep shirt.

He smirks. "You like it."

Cocky.

I scoff.

"You look like a stuffed turkey." He flicks at my coat. "What hides beneath
there?"

"None of your business." I close my elbows to my sides.

"Could be, though."

I side eye him.

He's smug.

"Shut up," I retort, a moment too late.

And that's all that is said, for about ten or so minutes. Our silences always
comfortable. Strange but true.

Fatigue begins to bully my eyelids. They droop for the third or fourth time before
he nudges my side.

"Hey," he mock whispers, "you're sleepy."

"So?" I yawn, attempt to stare him down.

He smirks. "Sleep with me?"

I roll my eyes.

And he looks at me with a twinkle in his. "You like it."

I turn my head.

I do.

I fall asleep after a while. I'm aware, well half-aware. Like I know I'm resting on
his shoulder, but I'm way too tired to care. I don't analyse a thing. I just do as
teenagers do… and do.

His shoulder is bony.

Like,

hard.

I like it, kind of. Because it reminds me that he works out, has a lean body that
looks good whether sitting, standing, lying.

I smile at the thought.

And he catches me. "Sweet dreams?"

I mumble, something along the lines of, "Shuttupmph."

He chuckles, silence follows, and then… "Bella, I'm horny."

I open my eyes but am stationary. "Good for you."

"Let me kiss you."

For some reason or another that sentence makes me feel special.

'Let me…'

I have all the power here, I think.

Edward's hand tugs at the zipper of my coat. Slowly, I hear the pop of teeth
release—an un-sexy strip-tease. My head is still on his shoulder, I watch his long
fingers move

down,

down.

"Did you raid the Salvation Army? What the fuck is up with all the layers?"

I don't talk. I just watch as his hand creeps up, over my sweater, to my neck. He
fingers my chin.

"Kiss, Bella."

Such an easy way to say it.

"I don't kiss people for the fun of it." I talk shit, because really, I'd kiss him for
the fun of it.

His eyebrow quirks. "Oh yea?" His face drops, abruptly. "Fine." He withdraws his
hand and moves. My head unceremoniously falls from his shoulder. "Wouldn't
want to force you…"

I roll my eyes. I grab his jaw. "Shut up."

Kiss.

"Mm." He smiles against my mouth. "You want it."

I glare at him as we kiss, to which he glares back, eyes almost pitch black and…
daring. And I feel his body override mine, he pushes me back—a rough kiss that
tells me 'lay back'.

So I do.

He's on top of me now, mouth open and wet.

Feels good, not sloppy.

I guess he gets a lot of practise.

Makes me sick, turns me on.

His hand pushes up my sweater, and I almost laugh at the way he curses when
he finds my pyjama top underneath. "Naked," he breathes. "Want you naked."

"Not happening," I tell him.

Edward breaks away from me.

Rips off his t-shirt.

Wow.

I think I say that out loud.

Wow.

Because he smirks. "Any objection to this?"

I think my face is red. I don't answer and so he just kisses me again, and again,
and yea… again.

Now, I want to be naked too, or at least topless.

But deep down I know that I'm not like that. Whether or not I know him, have
known him for a while. We're not together—never have been. And so, I push him
off me.

He sighs.

"I better go," I say.

I readjust my layers, and pick up my flask.

"Later," I tell him, up on my feet, over my shoulder.

"Later."

At school.

I fall asleep during algebra. Face south. Planted into the desk. The teacher's text
book lands with a smack. I jolt. Wipe my mouth—just in case. People laugh. I
fade; evade all possible glares, waiting for the bell to ring.

"Did you blow him?"

"Ew, Jess, seriously…"

"Oh come on, you blew Tyler."

"Tyler was my boyfriend."

"Oh please, you and I both know the effect Edward Cullen has on…"

I freeze.

Girls talking. Lauren. Jessica. Blond and blond-er.

"We just kissed."

I hear her smile.

"He's a good kisser."

Hear her grin.

My insides turn, violent flips, I'm jealous.

"Ugh, lucky." Jessica giggles.

Lauren stifles hers.

Bitch.

#*#*#*#*#

Lunch is uneventful, as always. I grab a pudding cup and diet Coke. Walk outside
and sit on the low wall outside of the art department. I eat slow, trying to make
whatever is on my spoon last. By the tenth minute, I'm done and disappointed.
With my lunch. With myself.

Life.

I look across the parking lot, gawking at the tall, lean boy in dark blue.

Edward.

Is he here for me?

Please. Let him be here for me.

I duck, crouch into myself and stare.

He doesn't have my number, but he knows I go here; Forks High.

He looks ahead, leans again his second hand motor. He makes that car sexy.

A fucking Volvo cannot be sexy.

He's a few feet away, but at an angle that is impossible—he can't see me—maybe
that's for the best—because up walks a blond and beautiful girl.

Lauren.

Bitch.

She grins wildly. All teeth on show, flawless smile, skin, sex.

Jealous.

Pitiful.

Me.

I watch something take place. Her hand on his chest. Her mouth moving. Smile,
tap, pout, giggle.

All the while he just stands there. Looking down at this girl as she flirts so
perfectly. I can't tell what expressions are passing; all I can tell is that she is very
interested. Invested. In him.

I have serious competition.

I do?

Who am I kidding?

And now, I no longer care. Empty, kind of. My emotions shoot through me like
arrows. My competitiveness sinks into the concrete beneath me.

Who cares?

I sit back up and sip my Coke. Wait for something to happen. A kiss, probably.

Instead, he shrugs his shoulders, runs his fingers through his hair, and looks
around.

Here I am.

Right here.

Watching you.

Eyes meet, and he freezes.

For whatever reason I wave—semi-wave—hand up to the height of my average
sized chest in an abrupt move.

And damn him.

He smiles.

Heart won't stop pulsing.

Thud, thud, thud.

I look to Lauren. She grabs his shoulder. "Hey," is what I think she says.
"Edward."

He turns toward her, then away, back toward her, away again.

Walking. He's walking toward me. Is standing in front of me.

"Hey."

"So Lauren…"

"Yea." He sighs, almost sheepishly. "Not a big deal."

"Hm." I nod and look at my scuffed boots. Feet face inward. Inept and shrinking.
Looking back up, Lauren is heading this way.

"Hey, Bella."

Awkward.

"Hi."

She's never addressed me before. I want to give an attitude but I just can't. Too
scared. Don't want to look petty in front of him.

He doesn't look over his shoulder. Edward casually slips forward, face nearly in
mine, and takes my Coke from my grasp. He sips from where I sipped as if it's
nothing.

Lauren's face is contorted. Not understanding a thing.

Ditto.

Edward is too nonchalant.

He hands me back my Coke.

"Tonight?"

My stomach flutters. I nod once, get up, and flee the scene.

#*#*#*#*#

Night falls. Dad is snoring. I creep downstairs and look into the hallway mirror.

Look pretty, look pretty… why won't my face look pretty?

I smooth down my hair, around my head, try to frame it. I look way too young to
be sexy.

Oh well. I sigh and pull it up into a careless bun.

Who cares?

I do.

Hot chocolate made. Overcoat thrown over layers. I shut the door quietly behind
me and walk.

A couple minutes later.

"Hey."

I sit and un-cap the flask. I pour him his share and he smiles, all soft, all sweet.

"Thanks."

I nod.

He's in a ripped Rolling Stones tee. The red, licking tongue logo glares. Illicit
thoughts scamper.

Foreplay.

"I met her at Whitlock's house party. I was wasted. We kissed and fooled around
a bit…"

First thing that comes into my mind is, "Like we did?"

He replies, almost instantly, "I said I was wasted."

"Oh."

Is that supposed to make a difference? She still felt your tongue, your lips, your
hands.

Where did he put his hands?

If he had fondled Lauren's pussy… ugh… ugh… I get so pissed off at the thought.

"Did she blow you?"

I can hear his smile.

"Why'd you ask?"

I shrug.

"Jealous?"

I lie swiftly. "No."

"No… she didn't."

I can hear my smile.

"Hm."

But then there's still the prospect of his mouth on her… down there… hand… down
there.

I shudder.

"Did you… do her?"

He chuckles. "Do her?"

I roll my eyes. "You know what I mean."

"No, I didn't eat her… if that's what you're asking."

Pure relief.

Maybe he'll do me. Down there. Hand… mouth… tongue… lick….

I feel myself get hot. Between my legs. I'm turned on at the thought, but the
reality is I'm not sure I'd let that happen. I can't imagine myself being that way.
Too scared. Don't want to look ugly in front of him.

"You okay?"

"Yea."

"You don't look it."

I huff. "Why were you at my school today?"

He huffs. "She asked me to come see her, so I did. I don't know."

"Why would you come see her if it's no big deal?"

"Because I can. I was bored. What's your deal?"

I'm jealous, can't he tell?

I shake my head and look ahead, feeling frustrated. Moments of nothingness pass
between us. Frigid air and hearts.

"Hey," he whispers. "Hey… come here."

Finally, I think. That soft, warming tone that makes his voice drift like honey. I
want it. I want him. And so I go, slide close to his side, and he holds me there,
with his head atop of mine.

"Quit worrying. She's nothing to me."

Oh.

He knows.

He knows how I feel.

Maybe he knew before I did.

I wake up to the sun, feeling love sick.

Weird.

Had a crush before, admired the way a boy walked, talked, looked. But not like
this, something in my chest twists.

Real uncomfortable.

I get ready for school. I'm tired as hell. The night prior was spent on Edward's
chest, his hands in my hair, his lips on my forehead.

Sweet, sweet bliss.

If only it was real.

Make him be with me, all of me. Make him my boyfriend. This is all I think. It's so
stupid, and I, Bella Swan, am not stupid.

We switched numbers last night. Well, Edward had written his on my arm. When I
got home I programmed it into my battered cell, drop called, and hung up.

- sweet dreams x

Was what he replied.

I didn't respond. How did he know it was me? Did he know it was me?

I keep worrying about us—if there is an 'us'.

When I get to school, I slow-walk it to my locker. My feet covered in canvas,
squeaks against the floor.

Oh.

Wait.

Lauren.

"Hey, Bella."

She's leaning on the wall. Her books hugged close to her chest. She looks
flawless today; long wavy hair falling over sound, round boobs.

"Hi," I murmur.

She's never been mean, nor has she been nice. She's one of those girls that just
float about. Pretty and superior in her own right. She has no need for anyone.

"So listen," she says, "I know about you and Edward. He told me you two are
like… friends?" Her eyebrow quirks.

I don't trust her. Why would Edward ever say anything pertaining to me? And
especially to her… as if Lauren would even have the guts to ask.

Not falling for that.

I keep quiet. Pretend that I am in complete absorption when it comes to finding
necessary things within my locker.

And it works.

She continues, "Yea, so, you like him?"

I shut the door. "I have to get to class." I make a run for it, but am accosted by
boobs.

"Wait, wait. Bella." She sighs. "Look, I… really like him… and…"

I stare, and stare, because I think she really does like him, and fuck if I can't
sympathize.

"Never mind." Her shoulders drop, she walks away.

I feel bad... and good. She doesn't know where she stands with him.

But then, neither do I.

#*#*#*#

In algebra, again. Falling asleep, again.

Phone buzzes mutedly in my pocket.

I look around, no one cares. Behind the thick height of my textbook, I check my
in-coming message.

-guess what I'm doing.

I smile, bite my lips, and type.

-what?

-guess Bella.

Smile harder, type back hurriedly, nothing witty, just…

-joy riding?

-nope.

-cliff diving?

-lol, nope.

-what?

It takes a while for him to respond, so much so that I actually get some work
done to pass the time. Eventually, the bell rings, and class is dismissed. I
sluggishly pack up my things, wondering why I haven't heard back from him yet.

And then,

-parking lot

Is all it says.

But I have art now, and I love art. I don't want to skip, but I have to. He's here.
For me. Only me.

My foot steps are foe-paced. I want to be quick but not too quick. When I finally
reach outside, I get giddy.

Really, really giddy.

It's funny to think that I'm skipping for him. He owns my nights… and now, my
days?

And oh, how he owns it all. He looks so good, wrapped in a black hoodie and
jeans. Hot, sexy, fuck. I want.

"Hey girl," he says, pulling me by the hip, to his hip.

Stupid greeting.

Stupid boy.

"Hey," I reply. "What are you doing here?"

He looks down at me.

"This."

Lips. Lips. Lips. Suckle on my lips. Mm. Yes. Edward.

He pulls back and grins. "Missed you."

I blush. My hands on his chest, I fiddle with the pull strings of his hood.

"Hey," he whispers. Fingers on my chin. "Missed. You."

Annunciation.

Positive, positive, POW.

"You did?"

"Fuck yea."

We kiss again.

Can't help it, not that I would want to.

His mouth is so damn soft—too soft for a boy—a rough neck boy.

And shit, he can kiss.

Fire in my belly as he licks my mouth with his.

"You have the best lips," he murmurs. "Fucking unbelievable." And he groans,
like growls, like grrr.

I laugh.

"Like that, huh?" He chuckles. "Grrrrr."

I laugh again.

"Sexy," he tells me, whilst kissing me, licking me…

Mmm.

When we're done, he holds me. "Let's get out of here."

"Can't," I say. "Can't skip, they'll call my father."

He sighs.

We're forehead to forehead. Eyes gazing. Feels like he's mine. Feels so good.

He nuzzles my cheek, whispers in my ear, "You're such a good girl."

And I shiver. The way he tells me that, like it's something filthy, nasty.

I'm such a virgin.

I feel his lips curl into a smirk. "Okay, good girl… I'll leave you be."

"No. Don't go. Not yet."

His warm mouth moves to my neck. Oh fuck, that's good. Who knew a kiss there
would be that good?

Suckle, skin, sweet.

He keeps sucking until I pull away, flustered.

He grins.

"You want it."

"Yea… so what if I do?"

"Come away with me."

"I already told you, I can't."

"Fuck them." He grabs me by my shirt. "Fuck everyone."

"Easy for you to say. You're leaving soon."

His eyes burn. Hot green holes.

"Not easy," he murmurs. "My life is far from easy."

I retract. I'm a little insensitive. I should know that. His father is a complete
asshole, he beats the living shit out of him sometimes.

"Sorry."

He stuffs his hands in his pockets, ducks his head, and nods.

He didn't get what he wanted, he feels low, understandably… I feel that way all
the time.

"Tonight?" I ask.

He gives a small smile. "Yea."

And that's when I notice the dry blood on the left of his skull. I brush his hair
away and frown.

"Don't worry about it," he tells me.

"What happened?"

His arms pull me to him. "Tell you later."

I revel in his embrace.

Feels like I'm his.

I am.

Tonight is different. I can feel it. So, I opt for just my sweats. No bra, just
panties. I feel daring. My breasts feel naked. But for some reason that's how I
want to feel. Naked.

If Edward is going to open up to me tonight, it will be a next step, something new
for us.

Usually, it's nothing, our conversations are weightless. All I know is that he has
problems, and doesn't talk about them, not at all.

Along with hot chocolate, I bring a blanket. Maybe that is unnecessary, but I
want to snuggle with him tonight, wrapped up in this, this blanket.

I make my way out. Flutters in my stomach for what he'll say and do.

We might not make out tonight, not if he's feeling low.

I've seen him low. He just sits there, stoic.

And I can't be like that. So selfish. Just wanting to feel wanted. A needy little
bitch.

No. Tonight is just chill. Air. Talk. Blanket.

Cuddles.

Please.

"Hey."

He smiles, soft, and sad. Holds his stomach. He looks wounded.

"Hey," I whisper. I crouch down in front of him. "What… are you…"

There's a small crack, in the back of his throat, like a whimper.

"I'm okay," he tells me.

"No. No you're not."

Instantly, I'm upset. I need to make him feel better.

I pull up his shirt.

Purple, blue, black.

"Fuck."

"No big deal," he insists.

Lightly, I run my fingers over his bruises.

He whimpers, audibly this time.

"Sorry," I say. "Sorry."

I lean forward, scoot between his knees, and it's not sexual, I promise.

Whole heart in my mouth, as I press my lips to his skin.

Over, and over, and over.

"Bella," he sighs.

I kiss his hurts. It's something I want better. Get better. Get better. Please, get
better.

"Hey." His fingers brush along my cheek. "Come here."

I don't cry, although, I want to.

I get up and sit down, right by his side, and his arm comes around me.

"I hate your dad."

He kisses my hair.

"I hate him."

He kisses my cheek.

"I hate what he's doing to you."

Lips.

"Can't save me, Bella."

"I know that."

Lips.

"You're a good girl."

And he really means this.

I can tell.

Pure.

I'm so, so, pure.

"So are you."

He smiles. "I'm a devil," he jokes.

But I don't.

I can't.

Not when he's in pain.

No jokes.

"No you're not."

"I'm not?" His eyebrows furrow.

Has anyone ever told him he's good?

Everyone has the power to be good… right?

"Edward." I look into his eyes. His stare intimidates me. Thrills me. Moves me.
"So good."

I can see it in his face.

He's trying to believe me.

Wants to.

"Thank you."

I smile sadly, throw the blanket around us. "Welcome."

#*#*#*#

Ten days left.

Ten days until he leaves.

Ten days until I'm alone.

But I can't be selfish.

When he goes he'll be free.

Maybe some new shit will find him, but at least he'll be free.

Ten more days.

#*#*#*#

I refuse to deal with Lauren, even though I can feel her staring.

"Psst."

No.

"Bella?"

God.

"Can I talk to you for…"

"What?"

She smiles at me, kinda.

"Um. So. Edward."

Here we go.

Jessica is seated beside her, looking straight at me. Death stare.

I stare back. I feel fierce. They don't have a clue about him. But I do.

I do.

"You two hook up, or something?" Jessica asks.

So pissed off.

I turn in my seat.

Not wanting to answer, not wanting to say a thing.

Piss off, piss off, piss off.

They do.

They piss off.

#*#*#*#

On the phone, with him.

It's six thirty. Nowhere near night yet. But he called me.

"What did you do today?"

"Nothing, school, came home, answered your call."

"Miss me?"

I can hear his smile.

"Yea…"

I go red. I miss him all the time.

"I was thinking about you all of last night… when you left… how your lips felt…
everything."

Wow.

Oh wow.

"How did they feel?" I ask, shyly, quietly.

I hear him breathe in. "Sweet," he tells me. "Soft," he sighs. "Sexy."

"I'm not sexy."

He ignores my lack of confidence.

"No girl's ever kissed me like that—in those places—like she thought I was worth
something…"

My heart breaks.

Literally.

This isn't the Edward I usually know.

"I'll kiss you everywhere." I promise.

I promise to make you feel good. Worth it. Worth it all.

Should I tell him that?

He groans. "Yea?"

Did he misinterpret?

Fuck.

"I mean… I …"

"I know what you meant, Bella." His voice is soft.

"Oh."

"I love kissing you."

Heart. Beating. Too quickly.

"I love kissing you, too."

"Yea?" He needs reassurance.

I smile, get smart. "I want it."

He sighs. "And I want you."

"Edward?"

"Mm?"

I tell him that I may not be able to come out tonight. Dad has company, as in
female company.

Ugh.

Sue Clearwater is sweet enough, but the thought of my father being with a
woman is just…

Okay. I'm a brat. He deserves some happiness after all. My father is a good man.
Deserves a good woman.

Sue is good enough.

"Sucks," Edward says. "Want you."

That never gets old. How can it? Only been three days of it.

#*#*#*#

I lean over the banister, being nosey, wanting to know how things are going. For
my dad. For myself… God help me, I want to sneak out tonight.

I hear quiet laughter. Sue is a quiet woman, even more so than my dad. I can
smell the left overs of the chicken dinner he had me cook for them. Seeing
Charlie act so flustered was kind of cute, kind of annoying. For a moment, I was
jealous.

Because that is my dad.

And I'm the most important girl in his life.

But I can't be that way.

Selfish.

So I suck it up. Help him out. Get everything ready, and dart upstairs.

Thing is I offered to stay out, but my dad…

"No, you stay right here. We're just eating. You go up to your room where I know
you're safe."

He's real over-protective.

I love it. I hate it.

He loves me so much.

Doesn't want to lose me.

Lose me like he lost mom.

#*#*#*#

Midnight, Sue is putting on her coat.

"Gosh, so late."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kept you here. You sure you're okay to drive alone?"

"Oh, don't you worry Charlie Swan. I'll be just fine."

"But a lady shouldn't be out so late at night."

She pauses, possibly, she's giving my father a kiss goodnight.

Cringe.

God, they are so old fashioned.

"You tell your young lady that she's a good little cook. Sweet girl," she says.

I can imagine the proud smile on my father's face.

"Yea, she's my girl."

I think that was subliminal.

"I know." There's acceptance in her voice. Sue has two kids herself. She does
know.

When I hear her leave I count down the moments, minutes, seconds.

Charlie will probably try to clean up, strip, and fall asleep pretty quickly.

"Hey Bells, you up still? Come help me clear this stuff will you?"

"Coming," I reply.

Good.

The quicker, the better.

#*#*#*#

By the time everything is cleared and my father is asleep, it's one a.m.

I figure that I better call Edward. I feel a little scared in doing so, for some
reason, some stupid reason.

"Can I still come over?"

"Stupid question."

I roll my eyes. "I just wanted to make sure."

"Shut up. Come over."

I hang up, and get ready.

Walking there I feel happy. I feel like I'm about to see my reason for being.

Yea, I'm silly. I know. But I hear that first loves are often silly.

"Hey, sexy."

Oh that is so not me, but it's nice to hear it.

"Shut up."

I sit by him.

"Sexy, sexy, sexy," he sing-songs.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up," I sing-song back.

"Hm." His mouth kisses the side of mine. "Okay."

Hot lips brush against my skin in a weird memory-like pattern, like he's feeling
me out with his mouth.

"What are you doing?" I ask in a squirmy manner, giggles almost erupt.

He just smiles. "Breathing you in, sexy."

I laugh. "You're so full of shit."

He pushes my chin toward his. "Shut up."

We kiss, softly, sweetly.

I sigh and melt right into him.

And that's when I hear it.

A slam of a door, a shout, another shout, cuss words, more cuss words.

Edward sighs. "Fucking great."

I flinch and look at him, cling to him. "Is he gonna come out here?"

He shrugs, almost defeated, eyes suddenly dead.

Edward pulls away.

"Wanna go somewhere?"

He blanks me. Hands limp. Body limp.

He's zoning out.

"Edward?"

"Go home, okay?"

"What… no… I'm not leaving you here."

"I can deal."

"But I don't want you to."

"Go home, Bella."

"No."

He turns to me this time, eyes hard as he almost sneers. "Fucking go."

Doesn't scare me though.

"No."

"If he comes out here and sees you…"

"What? He can't touch me."

He drops back into the bench seat. Rubs his hands down his face. "I don't want
you to see her."

I shrug. "I can deal."

"But I don't want you to."

Too late.

Door opens wide.

Angry, angry woman appears.

Hair askew.

Eye's red from smoke.

"Fucking idiot!" she shouts. "Fucking dead-beat idiot!"

Edward's eyes finds mine, they say 'sorry'.

He's so, so, sorry.

I touch his cheek. It's okay. Not your fault. Not mine.

All theirs.

"Bella? What the hell you doing on this porch? Did your father send you?" She
stands with attitude, hand on one hip.

"No mom, he didn't."

Her eyes fall somehow. Disappointment, I think.

Good.

You lost him.

You lost me.

"And you, you better not be fuckin' my daughter!" She seethes at Edward. At my
Edward.

He glares back at her.

"What do you care?" I ask.

Renee stands before us, looking haggard, not like the woman she was when she
was with my father. "As if this situation can get any more fucked up."

You were the one who fucked it up.

You and him.

The man that beats my boy.

That stole you from my father.

"Go home, Bella." Edward's voice is soft in my ear. "Please?"

I turn to him. I kiss him.

Fuck it.

I don't care.

"Come with me."

And my mother just stands there, slightly bemused, slightly shocked.

He takes my hand.

We stand.

We walk.

To my house.

In the background, we hear our parents, arguing still, his father doesn't care
about us, but I think Renee does.

Too bad.

We reach my house a moment later.

"Edward?"

His eyes are slightly watery.

Shame sits on his shoulders.

I tip his head up.

Tip-toe to kiss him, and whisper,

"I love you."

I tell him I love him, because I do, so much it hurts.

He cups my face with big hands, brings his forehead to mine.

"You shouldn't."

"Can't help it."

Feeling so exposed now, want to hide away.

Please say it back.

"Why do you love me?"

I don't know why.

Honestly.

I wasn't expecting to.

I just found solace in the fact that he was in the same boat as me.

That his life was harder than mine.

That at night we could come together, and say nothing, do nothing… just be.

"Don't mistake a few kisses for love. Don't mistake me for someone who deserves
it."

Oh.

No.

Edward.

"Stop that," I say. "Stop being so down on yourself. Pisses me off."

He smiles, slightly, sadly.

"And I'm not some stupid, little girl, okay? I know how I feel, and I've kissed a
boy already. I'm not that naïve."

He smiles, more, wider.

"And you're such an idiot. As if I'd want to fall in love with the boy who is my
mother's potential step-son. Fucking gross."

Smile, smile, smile.

He kisses me swiftly.

"So fucking gross," he murmurs, holding me tight to his chest.

I hear my heart, beat, in my ears, sings, so, so, loudly.

Edward looks into my eyes, searches me for hesitation, he can't find any.

"You sure?" he asks. "You sure you want to love me?"

I fall into him. He wraps his arms around me.

"Too late to be sure."

Way too late.

#*#*#*#

I decide that it would be best to wake up Charlie. I don't want to lie about
anything, and I don't want Renee to be the one to say it first.

Edward sits by the kitchen island, remains silent as I explain to my father why he
can't let him go back home just yet.

And Charlie gets it. Has a soft heart. He looks over at the boy that looks so much
like the man he despises. Pushes his feelings away, and says, "You can stay."

My eyes widen.

Didn't expect that.

Expected Charlie to try and involve the authorities, or some shit.

I smile and hug him suddenly.

"Thanks, dad."

Charlie holds on to me, kisses my hair. "Got a heart of the saint," he tells me. He
pushes my hair from my face, eyes so big and confused.

"We're friends," I tell him. "Edward is my friend."

I am so nervous.

Wonder if he can see through my bull-shit.

Edward speaks up, quiet but clear, "Thank you sir, I appreciate it."

Charlie hugs me again. I think he knows there's something more here. He knows
that Edward is more to me.

Get's jealous.

"This is my house. My rules. No staying out late. No loud noises, music, talking.
No eating all the food. No bringing people over. No parties. No girls. And you…"

He lets go of me, takes a step closer to him.

"…you don't take advantage of my daughter."

"Yes, sir."

They shake hands.

"We'll pick your stuff up tomorrow."

"Thank you, sir."

"Couch." Charlie points to the warm sofa, the blanket at its edge.

Taking my hand he ushers me upstairs.

I mouth goodnight to Edward, and he smiles back.

I mouth I love you to Edward, and he smiles back.

I walk quietly behind my father who huffs, exasperated.

Look down one last time toward Edward.

I love you, too, he mouths.

Bliss.

I don't sleep too well. I'm over-thinking. Maybe a situation like this calls for it.

I contemplate creeping downstairs to see him. So he can hold me, kiss me, tell
me how he's really feeling.

But I don't want to jeopardize anything. I don't want my father to find us tangled
up together.

For sure, if that were to happen, Edward would be out on his ass.

So, I stay up in my room, thinking about him, knowing that he has his phone in
his pocket.

He needs a good night sleep.

So do I.

#*#*#*#

I wake up disorientated.

Stomach feels inside out. Hungry. Thirsty. Shitty.

Need to brush my teeth.

I drag my ass toward the bathroom.

Door is ajar. Tap runs.

Not Charlie.

Edward.

He looks up from the sink. "Hey."

Fuck no.

I know I look like hell.

Can't hide now.

"Did you sleep?" I ask.

He smirks. "You look puffy."

I scowl.

Fuck him.

He grins. Pulls me into his chest.

"Fuck you," I muffle out.

He chuckles. "I wish you would."

I push him away and reach for my toothbrush. I load it up and get fresh.

All the while he watches, like he's waiting for me to finish.

"Problem?" My mouth is full of foam, but shit if I care.

"Let me use that after." He points to the brush.

I look at him through the mirror's reflection.

"That's nasty. Hell no."

Spit and rinse.

He reaches for it anyway.

"Lay off," I warn.

"My mouth is gonna be all over you soon enough. What's the big fuckin' deal if I
wanna use your brush?"

I arch my eyebrow.

Really?

Pervert.

"That may never happen."

He smirks. "Wanna bet?"

I let him use the damn brush.

#*#*#*#

Domestic bliss.

No.

Awkward.

Yes.

Charlie is on red alert. I hear him grunt every time Edward looks my way.

The rebel in Edward is being factious—he keeps doing it.

Keeps looking at me like,

like,

like he wants to,

fuck.

When breakfast is done, I hastily pull the dishes from underneath them. Pissed
off with the both of them. Men. So Territorial. Me. Dumb, helpless, little girl.

I feel him approach with a smirk.

"Knock it off," I whisper.

"Your dad needs to chill. Like I'd fuck you in the house… come on." He rolls his
eyes.

"Keep it up, and you're not fucking me at all."

Attitude rolls off me in waves. One look at my heavy lidded stare and he gets it.

Licks his lips. "That bitch thing you do, real sexy."

Death glare.

Back the hell off before you throws you out.

Idiot.

#*#*#*#

Before I leave for school, Charlie tugs on my arm. Eyes so deep, begs me to be
good.

I smile.

Dad, trust me.

Trust me.

"I love you, Bells."

"Love you too, dad."

#*#*#*#

Edward is forced to go to school, much to my amusement. My father is a bad-ass
when he wants to be. School for me is the same as always. Shit. My grades are
dropping and I can't be bothered to focus.

Too much going on.

I get told to stay behind after class.

Banner is lecturing me.

Late.

Thick.

Do better.

Or else.

Life.

Not a joke.

I stand there. So numb to it. What does it matter? Dreams come true for few. I'm
fulfilling my part. The one you can compare yourself to.

Feel better about yourself.

Look at me.

Banner, feel better about yourself.

And he does.

My head travels south, eyes down, my whole being to the floor.

"Don't you care about your future?"

I think about my father, about Edward.

I care about theirs.

No.

#*#*#*#

They send me home with a letter. I'm not sure if I'll give it to Charlie. Enough is
going on.

I shove it into my backpack.

Edward is home already.

Home.

"You dad is driving me nuts."

"So?"

"So, I need sanity. I need…"

I chuckle.

"You want it."

His head shoots up.

"You want to be driven nuts, look at your face, your complaining and smiling."

He smiles harder.

"Come here."

I'm cautious, wonder if dad is home early from work, need to be careful.

"Relax. He's at the grocery store."

I sit with him in the kitchen. He pours me a glass of milk. I don't like milk. But I
drink it because he does. We are quiet. Hands resting on the counter top. His
fingers brush over mine, up to my wrist, my arm, my shoulder, face.

I scoot closer.

So does he.

Forehead to forehead.

"Kiss me."

He does.

So soft, and slow.

Sucks my lip between his, holds me tight.

"Don't go," I say, out of turn.

Out of my mind.

He sighs.

"I'm signed up for the whole year. My uncle is expecting me."

I kiss him harder.

Try to trace every taste bud on his tongue.

"I'll miss you."

"I'll call. Email. We can still…"

"Shut up," I say.

He sighs harder.

"Don't forget me."

We pull apart when we hear Charlie's car. He comes in nosily, dumps the
shopping bags on the counter. A finger aimed at Edward and I. "Unpack."

We do as we're told.

Reaching for the cupboard door at the same time to put away cans.

Edward's hand brushes mine.

"I won't."

Eight more days.

Charlie drives us, seconds before we're sitting in front of his house in silence.

"I better go in," Edward says.

On reflex I look back, straight into his eyes. Scared for him.

Charlie clears his throat, speaks, "I'll come with you."

"No." He shakes his head. "Stay here, better this way. If they see you… it'll just
make matters worse."

But they do.

They see us.

Waiting anxiously in the drive.

There's hesitation as Edward hands over a black bag full of stuff, another, and
another.

It's Renee. Renee is staring at Charlie in disbelief. Her face drops, then contorts,
then she walks forward. But Edward's father has his finger hooked into her belt
loop. He drags her back.

My father flinches.

He wants to take her home.

I can see it.

On his face.

Anguish.

"Dad?"

He turns to me. "Get in the car, Bells." There's a crack in his voice.

God, he's hurt.

Hurt so much.

Mom,

look what you did.

"And where the hell do you think you're going?"

Edward swallows, pure fury in his features. He rip-roars. "Home." As soon as he
says this, he realizes its meaning. He pivots. Turning to face Charlie. Worrying
about how he sounds, what it means, if he'll accept it.

His father laughs. Throaty and hollow. Ridicules the whole scene.

Fire in my bones.

Fire in my body.

I run forward.

And

I slap her.

"How could you? How could you do this? How can you just stand there?"

And I feel my father pulling me back, hugging me to his chest, pressing my face
into his work shirt.

"You can't, you can't hit your mother, you can't…"

I sob into him. Sob like a bitch. So hurt. So angry. So confused.

Renee touches her face. Shell-shocked.

"Control your kid," is all Edward's dad can offer. He takes a look at my mother's
face. Cringes.

How can he cringe at that?

How can he care about her, yet throw punches at his own son.

I run forward again.

"Bella!"

Edward shouts after me, grabs me, I flare and flail.

"Let go of me!"

I'm kicking at him, at Edward, at his father.

"I hate you, I hate the both of you. Rot in hell!"

And it's all so comical.

And tragic.

My father is at a loss. He watches with a heavy heart as Edward hushes me,
holds me, kisses my forehead.

"Don't be this way, be good, baby, be good," he murmurs, quiet enough, loud
enough.

Everyone hears.

And I cry some more. Simple words cause me to crumble. Mope forward and am
put into the passenger seat.

They do nothing.

They let him go.

They don't care.

But as we're pulling out, I see her, her face wet with tears. Her lips shake, her
fist balls. She pushes herself from his father, and runs into the house.

#*#*#*#

Everyone is exhausted. We drag our feet. Find our places. Sump into furniture.

No words.

No exchanges.

But my dad is a responsible man, he huffs, gets up, looks between us.

"I'm putting all my trust in this. Don't let me regret it."

Edward stands, puts out his palm.

An open invite.

Trust me.

Trust her.

Trust us.

Charlie looks at it, pauses. "She's everything to me."

Can a boy Edward's age understand his severity?

Does he know how much a father's love is worth?

He's never had that.

Nonetheless, he nods once, palm still open.

They shake.

#*#*'#*#

That night, things calm a little. Although, I can see the defeat on Charlie's face.
He's not sure he's doing the right thing. I think he's doing it for me, because I
want it. He spoils me.

Edward takes a shower, right after me and comes out looking good, smelling
good. His hair sticks to his head, limp and wet.

I do all I can to not find him sexy.

Not appropriate.

Not at all.

Charlie nods at him. Awkward tension. Slips pass and says, "I'm going to bed."
He scratches his beard. Looks at us. Sighs. "Please." His hands raise in front of
him. "Just. Don't. You know…"

I give a half smile.

Our eyes meet.

And he walks slowly upstairs to his bed.

As I rest back on the couch, the smirk on Edward's face is ridiculous. He lungs for
me. Hot and heavy on top of me.

"Ugh." I push him off. "Are you serious?"

He eyes me like 'yea.'

I roll my eyes. "Dick."

He palms himself.

I get up and go to the kitchen, avoiding him, or at least trying to.

Thing is, he turns me on. So easily. I want to kiss him, grope him, undress him.

Damn it.

This is not easy.

I feel the length of his body press against mine, pushing me into the open cool of
our fridge. His lips at my ear. "He won't find out."

I'm torn, because I love my dad, want to keep his rules.

But

damn.

Sex always wins.

His lips touch my neck. I sigh. Feels so good. His tongue traces my ear. So good.
Sucks it. Good.

My heart is beating fast.

Faster.

Cardiac arrest.

His hands feel me up. Squeezes my breasts. Grinds dick into my ass. Groans.

"You want me?" he asks, breathless, beginning.

Say yes, say yes, say yes.

"Want you," I reply.

He shuts the fridge door. Pins me to it. Ducks his face into my collar. "Yes." Hiss.
Hiss. Hisses like a snake. Uncontrollable amounts of lust. "Let me."

"Yes."

"Now."

"Yes."

"Naked."

"Yes."

He pulls me into the living room. Seats me on the couch. Pants off. Panties off.
Kneels before me. Reverently looking up. Tender moment, lasts seconds, before,

oh,

fuck.

"Iloveyousofuckingmuch." All words are muffled as he…um… well… you know…
against me…

right there,

right,

THERE!

"Fuck!"

He laughs into me. Chuckles like it's funny. Brings his face up. His eyes so
dialated and sleepy and happy.

I cover my face with my palms.

"Oh my God," I pant.

So embarrassed.

So flushed.

I can't believe that just happened.

"Hey." He grabs my panties. "Hey." He puts them on for me. "Hey." And then my
pants. "It's cool, Bella."

I shake my head. Face still hidden. Not looking.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

His nose brushes along my cheek. He's sitting next to me now. Holding me,
comforting me.

"It's okay, baby."

I peek through fingers. My face a little cooler. I bite my lip. "You ate me," I
murmur.

Complete disbelief.

And that sets him off.

Stifled and hushed laughter.

My toothbrush is so off-limits.

I'm huddled up on his lap.

He's rocking me like a baby because well, I am one.

I'm a little traumatized.

And you can laugh all you like, but something like that, done by someone like
him, in a house that forbids it, is just intense.

My face is hidden in his neck. I keep cursing myself. Stupid shit. As if I can't think
clearly.

My vagina is not the higher power.

"Are you pissed at me?"

I can't answer that.

"Bella?"

"Not now," I say.

I think about my dad. How good he is. How bad we are.

"I'm sorry," he says. "For eating you."

Not being able to help it, I snort.

Edward has a way with words.

"Don't be," I tell him. "I just… my dad… ugh."

I hide again.

Upset with myself.

Should have waited.

Thank God we didn't go any further.

He holds me even closer, keeps his lips in my hair.

"I've never felt like this before," he says. "This sinking feeling in my gut… Bella,
I…"

I meet his eyes.

"I mess everything up."

I want to say something. Comfort him. But I can't. Truth is I need to feel bad
right now. And I know that's a stupid thing to need.

But guilt makes me realize how much I stand to lose.

I don't want to disappoint Charlie.

I blink, look at Edward. Bring my fingers to his lips.

Speaking against them, "Contrary to popular belief, I don't stuff my head
between any and every girl's legs."

I smile, sadly, but it's there.

"And I just wanted you to feel good after all the shit that happened today. I
guess… I should be… less cocky?"

"I love you, and all your cocky shit."

He smiles, sadly, but it's there.

"Come on," he whispers.

Standing.

With me in his arms.

"Where?"

"I'm tucking you in."

#*#*#*#

The thing with Rene.

The thing with my father.

Rene and Charlie.

Hard to explain. In some ways I'm almost sure that I played a big part in it. That
maybe I was an antagonist. The one that got in the way.

Maybe.

You see when it comes to Charlie you can't help but want his attention. All of it.

And Rene knew, was told, always reminded that she was lucky. By family. By
friends. Strangers, too.

Sometimes, I would be able to hear them. Well, hear Rene. Always laughing,
loudly. Always showing her enjoyment, loudly.

I'd wake up annoyed. That typical 'ew, my parents do it' face as soon as I came
downstairs. But that face would disappear soon enough. It was in the way he
looked at her, tenderly. The way he touched her, lovingly.

My father adored my mother.

Even I couldn't deny the sweetness in that.

And like I said my father was the type of man you wanted attention from. All of
it.

So like my mother, like any other female, I made a play for it.

When he was in the kitchen, pouring himself juice, I'd jump on his back and hug
him for no reason. When he was sitting down on the couch, watching TV, I'd lay
my head on his shoulder whilst he stroked my hair. When we were all out in
public, shopping, running errands, I'd take his hand and swing it back and forth
playfully.

You see, I adored my father just as much as she did. Revelled in his affections.
Like she did. And I'd sometimes catch her looking at us, like really looking,
looking at me like it was time for me to grow up.

Maybe I should have.

But Charlie is hard to fight.

Handsome man.

Handsome heart.

Handsome intentions.

I don't think anyone ever told Charlie that he was lucky. I don't think anyone
ever told him that Rene was a catch.

He gave up everything for her. Moved states, worked hard, gave what he could.
And all of Rene's dreams came true.

But then she had me.

And her dreams became my dreams. I was now the other woman. The other girl
that Charlie adored.

Maybe it's my fault.

That she ended up leaving.

And because of that I'll do what I can to make it up my father.

Because he deserves so much better.

#*#*#*#

Sue Clearwater isn't the only woman interested in Charlie, and that is more than
obvious when we all make a visit to the local supermarket.

I don't know if it's jealousy or protectiveness, but when I catch the stares he
gets—the glances—the gawking at his ass, arms, chest, face—I get pissed.

Edward is observant.

Reluctantly he is forced to follow us, like he's all of a sudden a needed addition to
our weekly grocery stops. Charlie eats a lot. A lot. A lot. But he likes to run.
Burns everything off. So our trolley is always stacked, and our trips are always
long.

I feel him bump me when he catches me scowling at some random woman eyeing
Charlie up and down. He chuckles. "Damn, your dad is a pussy magnet."

I roll my eyes and mutter, "Shut the fuck up."

I wonder if I am truly my mother's daughter.

Because I'm acting like her.

Jealous.

Of every other woman that comes into contact with the man I love.

I grab Edward's hand, discreetly. To which he instantly responds. Squeezes it.
Pulls me to his hip.

He quickly puts a kiss to my ear, murmurs, "Sorry."

I just smile, upset with myself.

Again.

When pull apart after a while, before Charlie can see us.

When we get to the checkout we see Whitlock. Rich boy. Cool boy. Party animal.

"Sup." He tips his chin up at Edward.

My father gives him this look, like 'who the hell are you?'

Edward shrinks a little under my father's authority. "Hey man."

Whitlock slips him a flyer.

Who the hell prints up flyers for house parties?

Whitlock does.

Out of ear-shot he asks me, "You wanna go?"

"Are you crazy?"

"We can ask your dad, it can all be legit. Come on, I'm leaving soon… let's… let's
just relax, have some fun for a bit."

I think about it.

"Later," I whisper. "We'll ask later."

Whitlock's flyer is in Charlie's hands. His brows are pulled up, up, up.

What the hell was Edward thinking?

Just because he let you stay here, doesn't mean he's going to let me go
anywhere.

Idiot.

But he's hopeful.

The look on his face—cute.

We sit.

Charlie stands.

"Til the a.m's?" He looks closer. "Bring your own booze?" He continues. "Hard
core?"

I drop my head into my hands.

Edward speaks up, "I'll look after her sir. She's safe with me."

Sharp eyes meet. "This your regular hang-out?"

Don't talk.

Do.

Not.

Talk.

Doughnut.

"No. Sir. I.. we… had a real hard time… just wanted to be a kid for a while… have
fun?"

"And 'kids' go to parties where… and I quote, party hardcore, til da am.s, bring U
R own booze?"

Ugh.

Why is the boy I love so dense?

And why can't Whitlock spell properly?

"Dad, it's cool. We can just stay here… right?" I look at Edward. "Right?"

But Edward, dumb ass, is in dire need to have his own way.

He stays silent.

Charlie looks at me. "Do you want to go?"

I chew my lip, hang my head, shake it.

"Is this for my benefit?"

Yes, dad. Want to be good. Want to be your princess. Want to go with Edward.
Want to stay in with you.

Undecided.

He draws a long breath. "Midnight. Come back by midnight or I'll show up and
embarrass the both of you. No drugs. No drinking. No se…" He hesitates. "Take
care of her."

Edward's smile—watt, watt, watts.

Power surge.

"Midnight," he repeats.

My dad sighs. Tired. "Yea." He drops the flyer on the coffee table and walks
away.

I feel small.

Did I just choose Edward over Charlie?

What the hell is wrong with me?

#*#*#*#

Bass.

That's all I hear.

Melody is lost.

There is none.

Just the floor beneath us, vibrating.

And people, people everywhere.

Parties are foreign. I feel out of tune. I see all the faces, understand that all they
want is to let loose, understand that all they want is meet, greet, and dance.

Edward makes me feel safe.

His hand tight around mine.

He kisses me full on the mouth as me walk. Blind movement. Passionate promise.

I'll keep you safe.

I'll show you a good time.

Relax.

And so I do.

I grin stupidly.

He pulls me to him and leans against the wall. Hands around my waist.

Whitlock finds us. They bump fists. He gives us beer.

I'm not drinking it.

And when Edward sees that, he copies.

We put the bottles on the floor.

He begins with my neck. Kissing. My ears. Nibbling.

I wonder what the thrill is. Having the boy you love show you open affection.
Having other people see it and not care.

I watch the people dance badly. Out of sync. Off their heads.

I feel him behind me.

I decide to move.

Not out of his arms, but in.

I have a little rhythm. I use it. Do like the girls do in music videos.

And wow.

I'm doing it.

And oh.

Hello.

"Damn," he whispers. "What are you doing to me?"

What am I doing?

I have no clue.

I'm in a haze.

Who needs drugs?

This is power.

I push my head back so that he can nuzzle my neck.

Keep dancing.

Keep moving.

Keep owning him.

"Baby."

He's enjoying this.

I can feel it.

On my ass.

And then my bubble bursts.

I see blond and blonder.

I stop.

I wonder if he can see what I see.

He does.

"Ignore them. We came here to have a good time."

But I can't. I'm not that girl to them.

I'm Bella, the loner, the one that barely talks.

I turn in his arms. "Can we go somewhere else?"

He doesn't reply. He just grabs me and ushers through to the back where
everyone is high, drunk, and chatty in the cool breeze.

"Come on." He sits on a misplaced chair. "Sit." Pulls me onto his lap. "Eyes on
me." Pulls my chin to his. And kiss, kiss, kiss.

Power shifted.

I'm at his whim.

Edward is sexiest when in charge.

In charge of me.

Seduce and submerge.

I'm drowning.

"Bella?"

I come up for air.

Jessica. Lauren. Hurt in her eyes. Lauren, watery eyes.

"Edward."

We say nothing.

Lauren tries. "I… you two… "

Jessica spits, "So is stealing other girl's boyfriend's a hobby of yours?"

All anger directed at me.

"I was never anybody's boyfriend."

"Yea, so you kiss my best friend and lead her on?"

What?

You were with her more than once?

I look straight at him.

Were you?

He stares straight at me.

Honest. Open. Loud in my heart.

No.

No, I wasn't.

I trust. I stroke his cheek. He strokes mine.

Cold, wet, on my clothes, soaked.

"That's what you get, whore."

They walk away, leave me with beer drowned t-shirt.

I get up, embarrassed.

He gets up, pissed.

Raging.

Walking.

Swings Jessica around.

"You dumb, little, bitch! What the hell is your deal?"

Lauren holds Jessica back. Jessica snares. Dares. Wants something to happen.

I jog up, tug on his shoulder. "It's okay," I say.

It really is.

Who cares?

Kiss me again.

Make me forget.

Too much drama for my brain.

I look at Lauren. Watery eyes still. Feel bad still. Sorry.

But he's mine.

You'll find yours.

Promise.

And it's a feat to pull him back, but he softens at my touch.

When they walk away and the people stop staring, he looks at me.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

Whilst in the kitchen, he's playful. Kitchen roll is a body condom. Wraps me up
like a taco.

We laugh, and laugh, and we're wasting Whitlock's' kitchen supplies.

But hell if we care.

We're having fun.

Clean fun.

"You're the only girl I know that can pull off this look."

I pose as I'm bound.

He pulls me to him.

Kisses me.

"I'm sorry. Sometimes girls get crazy."

In a daze I answer, "Understandable."

In the harsh light of the kitchen his features are on feature.

He's beautiful.

Fuck me, I've struck gold.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He chuckles.

Mimics a guppy.

I snap out of it.

Rip out of the tissue.

"Shut up."

And we kiss our troubles away.

If only for tonight.

We come home early.

Party-nartzis.

Doesn't matter, though.

Nothing turns me on more than having his mouth on mine.

Better than any party.

"Shh."

He mocks, "Shh."

I bump him in the hip. "Ass."

He grabs mine. "Yes please."

I open the front door.

Charlie. He's on the couch. Watching TV.

"You're home. Good. Edward, go grab a shower."

Oh, okay, so that was an order.

Clearly.

Edward, being in a good mood, just raises his eyebrows and goes. Slow steps.
Light like leaves.

"Dad?"

I sit next to him.

"Did you have a good time?" Charlie asks whilst lowering the volume.

"Yea." I fiddle with my now dry t-shirt.

"You smell like a brewery."

"Yea, got beer split on me. But we didn't drink. Promise."

He hums. Like, hm. Quick. Quiet. Charlie.

"How much a part of your life is he?"

"I…"

Start but don't know how to word…

"It… he… I love him, I think."

All he does is slouch. Back into himself. The couch.

Did I just break his heart?

I fell for Edward Jr.

Am I just like her?

Dad?

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"You can't help who you fall for."

Charlie is too understanding. I want him to tell me no. Tell me that this is bad.
Tell me that he's the only man that will ever show me real love.

A real father and his daughter.

No truer love than that.

"Don't ever settle for less than what I gave you. That's an order."

I nod.

"Go. Upstairs. I need time to think. You've grown up so quickly."

I stand.

Walk.

Turn at the banister.

"I'm still yours," I tell him.

He looks up. "In my mind, you always will be."

#*#*#*#

I hear water running. The bathroom door ajar. Peep through the crack. And oh.

Naked butt.

Dimples above it.

Shit.

I run to my room.

Shut the door and breathe in.

I hope I can survive him.

#*#*#*#

Six days.

In class, early. Jessica shoves past me to get to her seat. Lauren follows. Head
down. Not looking at anyone. But then she does, suddenly, at me.

Blue meets brown.

Sorry.

I know.

Sorry.

I know.

"Hi," she whispers.

"Hi."

And then, Blonder drags her away.

At lunch I sit on my lonesome. Not that that bothers me. I'm not some outcast
that slits her wrist. I'm just alone. Not lonely.

Anymore.

There's this warm feeling in my belly that my yogurt can't cool. I feel it slip down
my throat and land into a furnace.

That's love, I think.

Thinking about him always.

Turned into some idiot.

Head to the table as I try to dream up something else. Anything else. God,
please. I'm on boy overload and it fucking sucks.

Buzz on my hip.

-hey baby. are u ok?

-yea. fine.

Can't bring myself to act accordingly.

Douche.

-i miss u.

fuckingfucklovesickbullshit.

-i miss u 2.

Us.

Kiss.

Now.

Ugh.

Fuck this.

#*#*#*#

Renee calls. Dad answers. Other 'dad' wants to know about son. Edward. But
Charlie protects him. Says very quietly, very sternly, very slowly, "Fuck. You."

Wow.

Bad ass.

Hangs up and hangs head.

Hurt.

Hug.

"Thanks for doing this. I'll never forget this." My face pushed into his chest as
strong arms hold me so, so tight.

"Anything for you. Anything."

All Edward does is watch. A painful look on his face. I think he wants a dad like
Charlie. But he won't admit it. He's too tough. Too hollow. Looks away. But I
reach for him.

Hug.

Come on.

Just be a pussy for once.

Be a movie.

Foe-steps.

And Charlie looks to him. Eyes confused. Looks to me. And I beg, and plead, and
take Edward's hand in mine, and pull. Accept him. Love him. Love us.

Please.

Awkward moment. Silence cuts.

"Thank you," he murmurs. Eyes so near watery. Bites the bottom of his mouth.
Does not want to cry.

Charlie nods sharply.

And then pushes Edward's head down, down onto his shoulder.

And the circle is tight. Air trapped. No one gets out alive.

Broken families make for great new ones.

Happiness is,

fuck if I know.

I think I forgot when everything got crazy.

Crazy became normal.

But Edward, in the kitchen, talking to Charlie, and laughing.

Not normal.

Beautiful, though.

Being so… not normal.

Parts of me. No. All of me wants to kiss dad on the cheek, and Edward on the
mouth.

Like, some type of meandering whore.

Two loves for the price of a fuck-up.

This whole scenario is so weird.

#*#*#*#

"Hey."

Its night, and this time, Edward's on my porch.

"Hey."

I sit right next to him after I close the front door. Charlie is taking one of those
long baths. Does that on weekends. Ritual of some sort.

"So, five days left."

"Yea."

He looks straight ahead. At where dad's car is parked. Where the tree root that
pulled up all the underground piping is leaning off to one side.

That tree is so damn ugly.

He reaches for my hand. Kisses it. I think that means,

"I wanna take you with me."

Yea. So not gonna happen.

"I need you."

"No, you don't."

"Tell me what I'm gonna do when I get out there. Date and fuck other girls?"

I shrug. If he does, how can I blame him?

He's hot.

So, so hot.

Not that it doesn't kill hearing it.

Knowing that it's inevitable.

Edward needs sex, I think. Boosts his fragile ego. Makes him feel wanted. Makes
him forget his troubles.

And words come almost too easily. Blessing flows from my lips like,

"When you're finished. Come find me."

He snorts. "You're so stupid."

Apparently.

"What girl tells her boyfriend its fine if you fuck other people? What the fuck is
wrong with you? Why the fuck are you even with me? This is so full of shit. You're
so full of shit."

His face is a little pink. Chapped by the wind, or maybe his heart.

He's blue on the inside, I bet.

Icing himself over to prepare for this.

"If I ever find out that some other guy touched your pussy, your tits, your fucking
lips, I swear to Christ, I'll hammer a pole up his ass."

I smile.

He loves me.

"So you think you're gonna be celibate for a year?" I challenge.

Yea.

Right.

You're the one that's full of it.

"I've been jerking off for the past couple of days. Like hard-core."

"That isn't an answer."

"I'll call you. Phone sex. Lots of it. And pictures. I want pictures of you. Of your
tits. Do you have a video phone?"

I start laughing. Really laughing.

"Well, at least we know what you expect."

At least you're brave enough to tell me to wait for you.

But a whole year?

Easy for me, I guess.

I feel bad for him.

Like, I haven't even touched his dick yet.

"Are you mad at me?"

"Why would I be mad at you?"

"You, you know, you did me, but I didn't do you."

Still looking ahead, he just brushes it off.

"I've had my dick sucked before. No big deal. Well… it is, but… I don't… I don't
care."

Liar.

I bet he does.

I push.

"You want me to suck it? You want me to suck your dick?"

He turns to me. Licks his lips. "Fuck… shut the fuck up, Bella."

Whatever.

"Do you?"

"I love you, okay? Doesn't matter. I came to the very real conclusion that the
most I'd get from you was what happened the other night." He looks at my
crouch. "I really wanna see your tits, though."

I snort.

He's such a romantic.

As am I.

"Take me somewhere far from here, a place where I won't be worried about
anything, and I'll give you a full frontal."

What I want.

I want to show him.

I want him to become obsessed.

"Really?" The shock on his face is priceless.

"If you promise not to fuck anyone."

He smiles.

"I'm gonna become a chronic masturbator. Lotion is my best friend."

I pull him up with me and take him inside so I can fix us all some sandwiches.

When I'm dipping the knife into the jar of mayo, he speaks, "I can't wait to hear
you talk dirty. I bet you're filthy."

Moment interrupted by my father's arrival.

"Make me some hot chocolate?" he asks.

I do, and take it to him, where he's all laid up on the couch.

"Batman marathon," he tells me.

Dad and I, we have this obsession with comic book heroes.

We own all Marvel Movies.

"You two want to watch this with me?"

I turn back toward Edward with a question mark face.

He walks to us.

"Sure."

Really?

Dad does not make room for us. He lies there comfortably.

I pull cushions from behind him. Slap two on the floor. Edward sits and so do I.

It's cosy and weird.

Edward speaks, "I can't remember the last time I watched TV."

That's it for speaking.

We're surprisingly engrossed with Gotham City.

#*#*#*#

I have this feeling that something is going happen.

Bad or good, I don't know.

And it sucks because I just want the next couple of days to be peaceful.

On a lighter note, Edward is taking me out a date. He asked Charlie. Didn't say
'date' but I think it's pretty obvious. When Edward went upstairs to use the
bathroom, Charlie openly raided his jacket pocket and wallet.

It was horrifying.

Didn't even care that I was watching.

I stared and chewed my lip.

"I trust you. But I have to make sure. So… so, just…" He shook his head and
flung the jacket back down.

Was he lurking for condoms?

#*#*#*#

Edward takes me a little further out. A place with a bench. It's familiar.

We sit on it with our store-bought snacks.

And I know, I just do, that he's waiting for me to take my top off.

He keeps staring at my boobs.

And that's hard, seeing as I'm in a really baggy hooded top.

He eats silently after we finish talking about who is better. Christian Bale verses
Val Kilmer. And anyway, the whole conversation is bogus. Half of his argument is
flawed, and stupid, and I'm now guessing that he was just humoring me.

I knock back my water and move toward him.

This date is more like a hang-out.

Not that I'm complaining.

He puts his arm around me, and ends up pulling me onto his lap.

We start kissing.

And kissing.

Kissing?

More like, licking and sucking and fuck, am I moaning?

Why is he so capable of turning me into a little,

slut?

This is mouth porn.

No genitalia needed.

He does this thing with his, where he'll stop moving, just breathing, heavily, and
its open, and hot against mine, and his tongue is just about peeking out, like he's
waiting for me to feed him.

And I moan.

Comes out like a whine.

Like, ahuhhohh.

He laughs at that, then sucks on my tongue so hard I almost choke.

"Fuck it," he curses.

Lifts me up, forces my legs around him, carries me to Charlie's car. On the hood.
Still kissing. I get turned on by his strength. He's being sexy again. Hard-core.

I'm ready to do anything.

Forgetting about the good side of me.

I'm out here, and I'm horny, and I'm his.

"I love you," I say.

"Love you, too," he says.

Pulling off my hoodie. In my tank.

Pulling off my tank. In my bra.

Stands back and stares.

"You're perfect."

What should I do?

Back to being the real me.

I feel stupid.

My arms cross. Interrupts the show-don't tell.

He snaps out of his daze.

"Let me see," he whispers. Comes forward and stares straight into my eyes. "I
know you're a virgin. And I know you're scared. And we're not gonna fuck. And I
promise to look after you. I just want to have this burned into my brain. This
moment. The first time I see without clothes. Without anything to hide behind.
And it's just you. And I can think about you all the time. Please. Please?"

He speaks with in this alien voice. All soft and softer. Girly, almost.

I let him undo my clasp. I let him pull the material away. I let him stare.

And stare.

He puts the bra to one side.

Licks his lips and reaches out cautiously.

I watch as he touches me. Feels odd. Feels nice. He moves his hands around
gently, like he's caressing a wave.

And I realize that I quite enjoy it.

Like really.

I let out a little noise, and he shuts me up with a kiss.

"I'm hard so we can't, can't, can't," he's panting.

Who knew boobs were so affective?

"Can't go any further. I'll want to suck them. Fuck if I do. Fuck."

I laugh, and giggle, and moan.

Shit, he's so amazing.

"I'll blow a fucking load in my pants."

Yea, right.

As if.

He's done more than this with other girls, so I know he's flattering me.

Nice, though.

I put my arms around his hips as he keeps his hands on my breasts.

"Are you cold?"

"A little."

"I can tell." He grins and pinches a nipple. "God, I want these all the time."

Keeps squeezing, and stroking.

Obsessed.

"Okay. Okay." He puts his forehead to mine and breathes in.

Reaches for my bra and puts it on for me.

Reaches for my tank and puts it on for me.

Hoodie too.

"That was… the biggest tease of my fucking life."

I kiss his lips.

"Next stop, you show me your dick."

I hop off the car and open the passenger door.

"Really?" He seems ecstatic.

I roll my eyes, scoffing. "No, you pervert."

That's what phone sex is for.

Renee left Edward Sr.

News travels by word of mouth.

The old lady, Mrs Newton, tells the other old lady, Mrs Hale, who knows Sue
Clearwater, who's now on our couch, sipping tea, saying, "I just though you
should know."

My dad's eyebrows are in that place again.

The sky.

Clearing his throat, he says, "Well. That's none of my business, now."

But it is.

Charlie is not over her.

Not by a long-shot.

And I can see into his chest, the way his heart is likely to bleed through his skin.
He'll exude it in every relationship that follows.

Hang onto me tight in fear of me falling away.

Like Renee.

Like whoever next he chooses.

Sue. I like her. She's not a fox. Or feline. Or any other type of animal that
pounces.

And if this friendship with Charlie ends, I know she won't be bitter.

Safe.

I guess.

#*#*#*#

The news, I carry it to Edward.

-are u ok?

Is what he texts back.

-are u?

Is what I reply.

-if u are, yea.

-then I am.

-what about ur dad?

-he seems ok. but i know better.

-this is shit. everything is shit.

-except u and me.

I have to add that.

Because he's wonderful.

He keeps me distracted, kinda.

-yea. except u. ur perfect.

Liar, but nice.

-ur perfect.

Liar, but nice.

-we're so full of shit.

Ain't that the truth.

#*#*#*#

Four days.

Ominous.

Something stirring in my belly.

And my hip buzzes.

-in la push. come get me. don't tell ur dad.

I take the car. And whilst I'm driving all I can think is,

Please don't be too hurt.

Because I know Edward. And I know La Push. He's fucked a lot of girls from the
res. Had a fetish for olive complexions.

He's good at this.

Or at least that is what he's convinced himself of.

Being a magnet for girls, and trouble.

He fights too much.

And I know that's what this is, as soon as I drive by the old red house supported
by beams. All stacked upright, and dug into the ground.

The owners won't let it die.

There's a crowd. Disbanding. Flowing out like split milk. Slow. Like the show isn't
quite over.

I get out of the car after parking it badly. And walk,

jog,

run,

freeze.

Edward.

On the floor. Couched over.

I yell out.

Reflex.

Seeing someone you love physically hurt will send your stomach up through your
throat.

His eyes find mine, and they are so vivid, and so sorry.

"Sorry," he grunts. Hanging onto me as I pull him up.

Boys, boys everywhere, boys with no shirts on. Glinting stares that are taking
great honor in the fact that my boyfriend is fucked up and bleeding all over the
floor.

"What happened?" I ask.

He licks bloody lips. Nose weeping red. Dirty face. "Jacob Black. He thinks I slept
with his sister. His sister, Leah."

"Leah."

"Leah," he repeats. "She, she's pregnant."

My heart drops.

I freeze.

"I didn't touch her, Bella." His voice. It breaks. Like,

how could you believe something like that?

You know I love you.

You know I care.

You know I'd use a fucking condom.

"Hey."

I ignore the hey.

"HEY!"

Edward limps with me to the car. I help him in and slam the door shut.

"HEY!"

I assume this to be Jacob Black.

Tall. Muscular. Tall.

Would most definitely be capable of beating Edward to a pulp.

"Where'd you think you're going?"

"Oh, so you're not finished?"

Jacob Black has black eyes. They laser beam into mine. Say, back off little girl,
my deal is with him.

And he looks at Edward, huddled in the seat, eyes closed, and half-dead.

"He didn't touch your sister."

"What do you know?

"I'm his girlfriend."

He laughs. All white against brown. He'd be pretty if he didn't hurt my boy so
ugly.

Another walks up. A girl. Pretty and rough. She looks like she could beat me up,
too.

"My God, Edward."

Edward?

Pretty and rough girl runs to the car door and pries it open. She's touching him.

My him.

"Edward…" she cries.

What the hell is it with girls and him?

All falling at his feet.

Like they want to service him.

Polish his penis with wagging tongues.

The scene is progressing. Pretty and rough girl is Leah. Leah is pregnant. Not by
Edward. Jacob is still mad. Leah is screaming. Another boy walks up. Skinny and
geeky looking. Jacob looks between them, and Leah bites her lip. And somehow,
the boy ends up on the floor.

I take it as my cue to go.

I get in the driver's seat and huff.

"Not how it looks."

I ignore his broken vocal, and start to back up.

"She needed someone to walk her home. Leah's a cool girl. She only sucked my
dick once, a long time ago."

And, damn it!

Fuck it!

All this dick sucking!

"Shut up," I order. "Just, shut up."

And I drive, and drive, and drive. End up somewhere not too far from where we
came. I was slow, and kind of hurt. The amount of girls he's been with is getting
to me.

I pull over and breathe deep. My jealousy pushed away as I look at his cut up lip.

Fiddle with the glove compartment until it falls.

First aid.

Antiseptic wipes.

Wipe.

Ignore his flinches.

You just got beaten up and you're flinching.

I press alcohol to his cuts, almost angrily.

Why do you have to be such a slut?

And I place gauze on his injuries.

Extra wipes for his knuckles.

Prying away dirt and grime until he's clean.

And he's looking at me, silent.

Like, thank you.

Like, you're so beautiful.

And it helps.

Because I fight back my smile, as he winces from his.

Fingering his cheek, kissing his lips.

No girl will ever make you feel the way I do.

None.

And I'll prove it.

Tips of fingers dance, to the edge of his buckle, and I slip it through loops,
building anticipation.

"Bella…"

Sshh.

And I unzip. More dancing. Pry apart the worn denim.

Dance.

"Are you… fuck, are you..."

I pull back his boxers.

He's already hard.

And I lucky dip.

Pull out my prize.

Time for his.

I'm no expert, but I'll pretend. And I'll show him what he missed. What he could
have had. That all those others,

test runs.

Time for the real deal.

I swoop in for the kill.

"Oh, oh fuuuck!"

I'm the best he'll ever have.

And he knows this.

All beat up and glowed out.

Orgasms do that, I hear.

For boys at least.

Girls. It varies. I hear it cures depression for about a second or two. The female
brain shuts down at that point.

Maybe, besides his love, what I need is that. To be brainless.

Thoughts hold too much power.

"Hey." His voice is all soft again. "Are you okay?"

His fingers brush my cheek as I drive.

Don't be tender with me.

Not unless you're willing to see me break.

"Yea."

I keep my stare straight.

"You didn't have to do that, you know."

"I know."

"Then why did you?"

"Because. Just because."

Stop asking.

"I'll wait. I promise, I'll wait."

He says that now.

"Okay."

He leans over and kisses my ear.

"Beautiful."

Right now, it's everything but.

#*#*#*#

Charlie just looks at him.

Edward is humbled.

This is what you're daughter fell for…

I'd be pissed, too.

But oh, he's just a product of it all… right?

Like his father made him this way.

"You can't blame anyone but yourself for the trouble you court. After a certain
age, everything becomes a choice."

He starches his arm. "I know. I should have left after he started with the
accusations."

Hearing Edward speak responsibly is hurting me. I just want to wrap him up.
Jump to his defence.

But he doesn't need me.

Right now, he needs this.

This being,

"If this continues, you'll be learning all your lessons through mistakes. Be
smarter. You don't have to mess up to be a better person. I'm not asking you to
filter anything. I'm just asking you to exercise some restraint."

He just nods.

"And the drama, it ends here. I want my daughter happy."

That does it.

Edward's eyes widen.

Yes.

Charlie knew.

Knew all along.

"You think I'm stupid?"

"No sir."

"Make the last few days count."

"Yes sir."

#*#*#*#

Three days.

Since the fight, Charlie's been lenient.

Edward's been allowed in my room. One of his favorite things to do is lay down
with me. Nothing else.

And Charlie, he's walked by and seen it.

I don't know what ran through his head. I think it startled him at first.
Understandably. But the door is always left wide open, and so he knows nothing
else is likely to happen.

I guess.

I think Charlie is letting me enjoy being in love.

Once Edward leaves, he knows I'll be stagnant, again.

This is my time.

I'm tucked into him. He's so warm and hard.

I love his body.

He strokes my face. "What are you thinking?"

I don't answer. I just curl up. Bury my face into his shirt.

And he gets it.

Finally.

Holds me tighter.

Actions over words.

#*#*#*#

The weekend is over.

I slip out of his arms in the morning.

We fell asleep on the couch.

Charlie is in the kitchen making our breakfast.

Weird.

"Morning," dad grunts.

"Morning."

I make a move to hug him. He's stiff at first. Maybe because I replaced him,

sort of.

He kisses the top my head, and says, "Wake that boy up and eat." Then he grabs
a piece of toast, and is out the door in a flash.

I brush my teeth, wash my face, and come back down.

I want to be sweet today.

I put my lips to his. Nose. Eyes.

They flutter.

"Bella."

"You have to get ready for school."

"Ugh. No." He grabs me, and I let myself fall gently on top of him. He closes his
eyes again with a sleepy smile. "This. Yes."

I give him five minutes of nothing.

Heart to heart. Breathing slow.

I reluctantly pull myself up and away, I make him something hot to drink. Coffee.
Warm up the eggs.

"Don't want food," he mumbles, lifting up his shirt and rubbing.

"If you don't eat your breath will stink."

"It already does." He grabs me. "Besides, you're the only one that has to suffer
the consequences."

Hot boy with bad breath.

He's lucky I'm being sweet today.

I let him kiss me anyway.

I drop him off at school, and he throws a tantrum when he pulls away from me.
Almost cute. That dirty mouth kind of spoils it.

If I had my way, I'd make him skip.

But this is one rule that Charlie is not letting up on.

Good for us.

My school day goes like this:

Locker.

Lauren.

Awkard hello.

Class.

Banner.

Grades still falling.

More class.

Daydreams.

Texts from Edward.

Class.

Daydreams.

Think about Edward.

Lunch.

Apple.

-want you bad.

Edward.

Class.

Bell.

End of day.

Finally.

#*#*#*#

When I get home the air is stale. Like something dug its way in through the
vents. Dead. Not peaceful.

A man with a halo of golden-grey hair is on our couch, his face white and kind.

He's talking to Charlie.

Edward, his expression, angry.

But it changes once he spots me.

Big eyes and open mouth. Like I can hear him breathing. Like he's breathing for
the both of us.

The man's name is Carlisle.

And he's here to collect Edward.

A day too soon.

Carlisle looks at me. His eyes so blue they burn.

I want to hate him.

"This is my daughter. Bella," says Charlie.

"Bella." He rises, sort of, and reaches to shake my hand.

Limp.

I snatch it away and look at Edward.

He's sorry again. Chewing the inside of his cheek.

I don't care at this point.

I walk right in front of him and pull him up.

"What are you doing?" dad asks.

"Packing."

I drag him toward the staircase, and he follows willingly.

Out of earshot, Charlie mutters, "Kids."

To which Carlisle replies, "Kids in love."

#*#*#*#

In my room. With his stuffed black bags. And a few other things I assume Carlisle
brought over from his father's.

I let go of his hand.

Which is a hard thing to do.

Because he's squeezing it.

Desperately.

I fling one of the empty suit-cases open. Silently emptying bags, rolling shirts,
rolling pants, rolling, rolling.

Stuffing this big black mass with polyester and cotton and denim and him.

Doing it so vigorously that he's just standing there uselessly. This defeated look
on his face.

You're ignoring me.

You're angry with me.

You're getting rid of me.

He sits and sinks onto my bed. Just watches. Watches me pack for him.

I don't know what he's expecting. For me to cry, or shout, or whatever.

This is what it all comes down to at the end of the day.

He leaves.

We keep in touch.

Sporadically.

He cheats on me.

I let him go.

He's already let me go.

And that's that.

I guess.

One suitcase. Packed. Onto the next one.

I'm a pro at this.

Getting rid of things.

"Bella."

"What?"

"Are you gonna say something?"

"What for?"

"I'm leaving."

"I know."

"You're not gonna tell me you love me?"

"You know I do."

Why do you need to hear it again?

What are you trying to do to me?

"But." He gets up. "But." He kneels by me. "But I need to." He stops me from
doing what I'm doing. "I need to hear you."

He pulls my chin toward him. Forcing my face to his. Firmly.

"Let me hear you."

I tug away, lock my expression, and keep packing.

Won't leave me be.

Won't stop trying.

Will break my heart.

"Fucking tell me." Voice so severe.

Forces my whole body to face him this time.

"Tell me."

I keep breathing. Hard. To keep myself from complying.

You can't turn me into this.

You can't leave and move on and make me feel this way.

And when I resist, he just exhales.

I keep packing.

And he just watches.

#*#*#*#

He takes the suitcases downstairs.

Carlisle is in the kitchen chatting up a storm with Charlie.

It's a 'what the fuck' moment.

Because Charlie is laughing, as is Carlisle.

Why the fuck are they laughing?

Isn't this the brother of the man you hate?

Whatever.

I'm with his son afterall.

I follow behind Edward. And without saying a word, we go sit on the couch.

He's not touching me.

He's not even talking.

I made him angry.

Can tell.

Jaw is clenched.

He's biting down hard.

But he breaks soon enough.

Thing is, with Edward, he is not very good at keeping his anger to himself.

"Don't fuck around with my fucking heart."

I just sit there.

"Don't you fucking tell me that what we've been through over the last couple of
months, weeks, days, means shit-all to you."

Still, just sitting.

"Don't fucking act like you don't want me, don't love me, won't miss me."

Just.

"Don't make me leave and make me believe that no one really cares about me.
That you don't really care about me."

Maybe it's how he sounds.

Not what he says.

Like he's about to start crying.

He never cries.

Until, maybe, now.

"Fuck."

He's all broken.

And it's all dramatic.

And big.

And real.

And my fault.

I think.

I put my hand in his lap. Palm open. Heart open.

Without hesitation he grabs it.

"Tell me," he repeats.

"I want you," I say.

"What else?"

"I'll miss you."

"And?" His voice. Cracking.

"I love you."

Carlisle and Charlie come into the living room, oblivious to our mutters, but
aware of how upset we both seem.

They falter is addressing us.

Good.

Feel bad.

Feel awful.

Look at what you're doing.

"Ready to go?"

Edward doesn't reply. Just gets up. Pulling me up, too.

"I'll be out in a minute," he says after a while.

Drags me toward the back. Away from the adults.

And when we're alone. In the cool of the outdoors. He just kisses me. Says I love
you as he kisses me again.

And that's that.

We break apart.

And away.

And Carlisle attempts to shake my hand again.

And it's limp again.

Edward shakes my father's hand.

A silent exchange.

An even more silent one with me.

And Charlie is at my side.

Ready to support me.

My body weight.

Weighs to the floor.

Car starts.

Car moves.

Car leaves.

"Are you okay?"

"Yea."

"You sure?"

"Yea."

Dad keeps quiet for the longest as we stand and stare.

"I know what that feels like," he murmurs.

I don't respond.

"If it doesn't get better… I promise… I'll be here."

And where in previous instances, where those words were enough, now…

Now,

they have absolutely no effect

whatsoever.

We stay in touch.

Edward tries. Like really tries. But it's hard. Military school is prison-esque. And I
feel like the more of an effort he makes, the more of a chore I become.

And I can hear it in his voice.

This sigh each time he calls.

Like,

I should be sleeping.

So tired.

So stressed.

So deflated.

And I know he can't get caught again. Be punished again. Not for me at least.

He's meant to flourish.

Eventually forget that he's left me behind.

But as if I'd let him disappear that easily.

I hang on.

Clench to every minute.

#*#*#*#

There's this new boy at school. He's skinny and noodle-limp. Walks with his head
down a lot.

No one really pays him any mind.

Which isn't a surprise.

Ben.

He's not made of popular material.

He's seated next to me in class. Is real shy. Real quiet. Real smart.

Sometimes, when I'm stuck on a problem, he pushes his paper a little to the
right. Like,

copy from me. Please. Be my friend. Please.

I ignore him for a while, because his desperation is somewhat irritating.

If you want friends, just be you. Don't do to get. Or at least, this is what I
believe.

But he doesn't stop hinting.

And it's that persistence that makes me think, 'okay', just so he can be 'okay'.

We talk every now and then.

I see the spark in his eyes every time I notice him in the hall.

He likes me.

It's whatever.

Harmless.

Annoying.

And there.

I'll be his friend because no one else is.

And I know what it's like to be lonely… now.

Maybe that part of me is sympathetic.

The part that was taken away by Edward. That hangs onto Edward. That is so in
love with Edward that it hankers for whatever Edward can offer.

So whatever.

I let him like me.

It's not like it matters.

#*#*#*#

The more I talk to him, the more it hurts.

Rings around my heart. Squeezes the life out of me. I'm parched for his
presence.

"Are you crying?"

"No."

"You are. You're crying."

"No."

He keeps asking. Sounds concerned. Sounds frustrated.

"I should be there. I know this is shit. I know this whole thing is shit."

I can imagine him tugging his hair.

I wish I was there. To stroke it. To stroke him.

"I'm sorry," I say.

"For what?"

"For making you have to call, for making you have a girlfriend that makes you
have to call."

"Don't be stupid."

"I don't want you to be in trouble for me."

"I'll be anything for you."

And yea.

I'm crying.

Because the only time I'm in any state of emotional awareness, is when I'm
talking to him.

Everything else is drift-wood.

I notice no one.

Nothing.

They and those and things.

All innate.

Doesn't matter.

"Bella, baby, I'm worried about you."

He should be.

I think I'm going crazy.

Not that good kind. Not the type that they talk about in songs.

"I'm fine," I lie. "I just really miss you."

That sigh again.

That long and tired sigh.

"I know. Me too."

#*#*#*#

Around the house Charlie is quiet. Like always. He comes and goes like breeze.

He hugs me at odd moments. Places kisses on my head. That thing that father's
do when they have no words to say.

He's pretty aware of my state.

Depressed.

And I think he's just letting me be.

Because he knows I would fight him if he suggests I get help.

And the last thing Charlie wants is to lose me.

And so he hangs on to whatever I give him.

That being… this defeat.

"Cheer up for me. Please. I hate seeing you like this."

My response isn't as sweet. "I saw you like this when mom left."

He breathes through his nose. "Point taken."

I look down at my dinner. "I'm not hungry."

"Please eat."

"But I'm not hungry."

"Okay."

I get up from the table, put foil over my plate, and place it on the counter.

The doorbell rings.

Charlie grunts as he gets up to answer it.

As I'm pouring myself a glass of juice, I listen out for who it could be.

Not that I care.

But whatever.

The silence is prolonged.

As is the stiff way my father's shoulders appear as he just stands there and
stares.

And then I hear it.

"Charlie," she says.

That broken, wilted whine.

"Rene," he replies.

After months of nothing. We heard she moved further south. Got counselling for
her 'problems'. Was trying to make something of herself in the best way she
could.

Grandma would call to update us. Say, "I told her she messed up. She knows she
messed up. She's changed. For real. She's a changed."

The hope in Charlie's eyes is there, although he tries to hide it. He still loves her,
although she doesn't deserve it.

That weird thing where you want someone, but don't.

And I know he'll let her in.

And he does.

She side steps.

Tears already in her eyes.

She sees me.

And I see her.

"Please," she whispers. "Please forgive me."

And maybe it's how lonely I feel.

How empty my life is without Edward.

Emotionless wreck, I guess.

I look at dad.

Who looks at me.

"Okay," I say.

Because it's whatever.

Everything.

Is whatever.

"So… prom."

Ben shifts in his seat. Watches me eat my apple.

I side eye him.

"Yea."

"You going?"

"No. Not my thing."

"Oh… okay."

Yea. Just leave it at that. Please.

"But isn't that what most girls look forward to?"

Do I look like most girls?

"Not me."

I fiddle with the edge of my shirt, hoping that he'll get the idea.

I won't be that girl for you.

"Well, you are different," he tells me. "Like, cool-different."

"You're sweet," I say.

Because he is.

And annoying.

"Thanks. So um, are you…"

His sallow skin blazes.

I feel bad for him.

I wonder why things are the way they are.

Why certain situations end up uncertain.

Why Ben is certainly eyeing up my chest.

I pull my cardigan together, feeling like none of what he's trying to be so subtle
about is right.

"I've got to go study."

I get up and make my way to the library.

#*#*#*#

A couple of months pass. I have a folder of emails dedicated to Edward. I re-read
them at night.

Sad.

He hasn't got an account on any social networking site. Edward is pretty much
careless when it comes to stuff like that. Instead, he stores photos online. Directs
me to it with a password.

He has all these abrupt captions under them.

Like there's one of him in uniform. Protocol.

He looks so different.

Shorter hair. No expression. Caption says, 'torture.'

I smile at that.

Humor in the dark.

A lot of these photos, he's taken himself. Those weirdly angled type pictures. A
lot of them are topless. Naked. Private.

He's buffer but not bigger. Abdominal lines cut and protrude. Arms divot and
curve.

His face is changing too. Little things like his jaw squaring off. Forehead lining up.
This intense look in his hooded eyes.

He looks older.

Whereas, I feel like I haven't changed that much at all.

I do the same for him. I upload photos. Mark them private. And send him the
password.

I wonder what he does when he sees them.

If he gets enough time to see them.

If he smuggles his phone into his quarters somehow and stares and touches
himself.

I wonder if there are any girls that he's met. That he's keeping quiet about.

I wonder about a lot of things.

Over time I decide not to let on to how depressed I am, because when he calls
it's so quick that we hardly have time to say what we want to say. He emails
more than he phones. Each sentence runs into another.

Like,

carlisle is cool and isn't as strict as i figured he would be. i guess its ok out here.
they have a pool out back. i imagine doing all types of things to you in that pool.
but it sucks because i'm only here on weekends, other days i'm on site at school.
i fuckin hate it there.

Like,

so i got a good report and carlisle is taking me to get a car. can't believe it.
anyway… can't wait to drive it… even if it's only on weekends.

Like,

prom is coming up and out here there's a catholic all-girls where all the guys go
to get regular pussy. they sneak out for it. sometimes i wish you were here…
well, all the time. i mean, you know. all they talk about when they come back is
sex and all i want is to just see you and … you know… i think about you naked…
about fucking you. sorry. i know that sounds bad… but it's not like that with you…
i mean it is but … you know?

Like,

so fucking horny. can you send me a picture? a new one?

Like,

promise to call for longer next time.

Like,

sorry I couldn't call last time.

Like,

bella, we need to talk.

#*#*#*#

The talk in question starts off fine.

"How are you?"

"Cool."

"Don't' bullshit me."

"I'm okay."

"Really?"

"I'm okay."

He sighs. "So, I'm going to France next weekend."

I pretend not to be taken aback.

But I am.

And it shows.

"What?"

"I know." He chuckles. "Carlisle said I need some culture in my life. He's so artsy.
You should see some the shit he has around the house. If he didn't have a wife,
I'd swear he was gay."

I stay silent for a while.

Just thinking of how much far he'll be from me.

"So… yea. I just wanted you to know. I promise to bring you something back.
What do you want?"

"You don't have to do that," I tell him. "Just be safe."

"I will be."

It's like we're both waiting for the inevitable.

"Bella?"

"Yea?"

"This is…" He pauses. Like he's thinking. Or maybe. Hesitating. "So hard."

I just stare at the ceiling. Counting rivets in the tiles.

"I thought it would be easier, you know?"

"What do you want me to do?" I ask.

"That's it though. You can't do shit. Neither can I."

And I'm wondering if I should be the one to make it easy for him.

"You love me?"

"You know I do."

Say it slow.

Not quick.

Not like I'm in any hurry.

I'm not.

"I want you to break up with me." Words stick to the roof. "Because, I hate the
way you sound when you call. I hate the way it hurts every time you hang up. I
hate that I'm the one making you feel like…"

"Like?"

"Like, I'm you're only option."

Truth is he has plenty now he's not in Forks.

"You had such a shitty start. Maybe it's time to do better… you know?"

"Without you?"

"I'm just an accessory, right? You met me because of our parents. Because I'd
always find some excuse to share my misery."

And he doesn't even correct me.

Not that I was expecting him to.

He's,

thinking,

contemplating,

sighing.

"I don't know what to say," he tells me. "I mean, how I feel for you, that hasn't
changed."

"Right." I hold my breath. Pull in my stomach. Can feel my eyes burn. "And it
doesn't have to. Just. Things. Like places. Like where you are now. Where we
are..."

"Yea," he whispers. "Just... say it one more time for me."

"What?"

"I love you, Bella."

"I love you, too."

His breathing. Real audible.

Our plan failed.

"I have to…"

"…yea."

"Sorry, Bella."

"I understand."

"Oh fuck it," he says. "I don't care. I want this to be more than just a fucking
goodbye."

"Don't get in trouble. If you have more to say… email me?"

"But I'm not good with fucking words. Not like that. I just want to know you're
okay."

I lie.

Big.

Heavy.

Hard.

"I am."

Salt escapes me.

Runs quick and fast down my cheek.

I brush it away.

"Or, I will be."

His voice suddenly comes out lighter. "Bella?"

"Yea?"

"You're the best. I mean it. True love. That's what you are."

He's earnest.

I gave him choices.

Freedom.

I hear a rustle. Another couple of curses. He's hiding harder from them now.

"Bye, Edward."

He just sighs again. "Okay. I… Okay. Bye, Bella."

The end of the call.

The end of us.

I just lay there.

Dead.

He emails me the next day.

Something along the lines of how much he cares. Would still care. Will always.

He feels bad for living.

And that's admirable.

And stupid.

It's not like I can blame him.

He promises to send me photos of France. And something else.

I click off. Walk downstairs and into the kitchen. See my father straightening a
tie.

Oh yea.

He's going out tonight.

With Sue.

He smiles at me.

"Nice threads."

"You gonna be alright whilst I'm gone?"

I roll my eyes. "I'm 17, not 7."

It's quiet for a while.

I can tell he's about to say something.

Concerning me.

"He'll be back, Bella."

I stop what I'm doing.

"They always come back. The ones that lose you. Either that or they stew. They
remember, and it's a bigger thing for them than it ever is for you."

It really sucks.

They way someone who knows you, can break you down with few words.

I don't cry.

I just stand.

Solid.

"It's not like that," I say.

"Oh?" Charlie leans on the counter top. "So you don't think he's going to
remember what you were to him?"

"He will. But it's no big thing. Puppy stuff."

I play it off.

And he lets me.

Charlie loves.

Rarely fights.

"I'll be back before midnight."

He kisses my head, and walks out the door.

#*#*#*#

I'm convinced.

In the end a boy will break you.

No matter how sweet in the beginning.

Loyal in the middle.

What Charlie told me was what I wanted to hear.

Something that I'm sure he tells himself.

And I want to believe it. But I'm a cynic.

I'm the one that's stewing.

#*#*#*#

I'm feeling foul.

Anything is likely to set me off.

Ben.

Is about to do so.

With his questions. His niceness.

"I can help you with that. Do you need help? I can help."

I push my fingers into my hair. My elbows rooted into the desk.

I try hard to just block him out.

"Bella, you okay?"

God.

Shut up.

"You want me to help you with it after? Like, lunch?"

I turn sharply.

"Do you ever shut up? …Fuck."

His face drops. He just stares back.

And that's what I expect him to do, because I'm being a bitch.

I can't make an excuse for it.

It just is what it is.

"I… sorry…. I just thought…"

"Well, Ben, don't… stop being so fucking nice all the time. It gets you absolutely
nowhere."

With me.

He swallows and continues doing his work.

I'm satisfied.

I'm upset.

For him, for me, for whatever shit is going on with either of us.

And what is he expecting exactly?

That we fall in love?

That he gets to lose it to me?

One of the two, I bet.

I'll be that girl he brags about, or learns from, or whatever.

I'm not about to put myself on the line like that. Not for him. Not for anyone.

Not again.

"What's wrong with you?" he mutters more than asks.

I scribble down nonsense and pretend it makes sense.

"A boy fucked up my heart."

He looks at me, but I don't look back.

"He's an idiot."

"No he's not... He just couldn't help it."

When it's nearly time to go, Ben finds the courage to speak. "I'd do my best to
help it."

He doesn't know it yet, but someday he'll meet the girl he's supposed to and
wonder what the fuck he was doing having a crush on someone like me.

"You say that now."

The bell rings. We get up.

Ben. Still being nice. Pushes my chair in for me.

"I'm sorry for… whatever happened to you."

I shrug.

"Cool."

Whatever.

I'm doing him a favor anyway.

I walk out and act like the last thing I want,

is comfort.

#*#*#*#

A week later and I'm still the same.

Empty, kind of.

Dad and Sue. Still dating.

She came here last night and cooked, and I found out that she's pretty nice.

A bit ordinary looking.

A bit boring.

Nothing like Renee.

Not that Renee was an equal match for Charlie, either.

And anyway, real life is never how you see it on TV.

Pretty doesn't always court pretty.

Dad, sometimes, I think he's unaware of it all.

Like, he looks the way he does and has no clue.

But he's getting older.

I guess he wants a wife,

or something.

It's the weekend.

I gave Ben my number, and since then he's been texting me almost relentlessly.

I don't know what it is with him.

He's super needy.

Nothing like Edward.

Not cool like that, or smooth, or sexy.

He's like a sponge. Ready to soak up all the attention he can get.

It's a major turn-off.

Makes me feel douchey.

Almost.

And he's my door mat.

I don't like people I can walk all over.

I need a fight.

Just as strong.

Heady.

Maybe even a tiny bit arrogant.

Someone you have to work to piece together.

I really miss Edward.

#*#*#*#

Hey, so I'm here in France and everyone looks the same. No one wears sneakers.
Carlisle wears these really pussy-looking sandals. If I weren't in a foreign
country, I'd be embarrassed. His wife is touchy feely. Always linking arms with
me. It's fucking weird.

Saw that tower people always go on about. Maybe I really am trash, because I
honestly don't see what all the fuss is about. It's tall. It's metal. We took too
many photos of it.

There are fountains. And old stuff. And we're going to some museums soon. And
on the water, on a boat somewhere. I'm pretty sure I'll remain uninterested.

Attached to his email are a ton of photos.

It's sunny out there.

He squints in almost every picture.

And he looks good.

And alive.

And because of this, I know his nonchalance is falsified.

He loves his new life.

He's becoming a much better person.

In airs.

Graces.

And even,

smarts.

He'll be infinitely irresistible once he's refined.

A guy who knows the rough. The tumble.

A guy who knows the beauty of the world.

In the darkest corners.

In the obvious.

A nice balance.

No doubt, there are girls over there fawning over him.

No big deal.

All this hurt will be over soon.

Hopefully.

#*#*#*#

When I go downstairs to make a sandwich, I see my mother.

She's just arrived.

Is clutching a shopping bag.

"Hi," she says.

I just look at her.

Dad has a funny look in his eye.

Something along the lines of indecision.

She stuffs out her arm like a retard, and says, "I got these for you."

'These' are perfumes, skin-care, girly-shit that I need to be in the mood to utilize.

"Thanks."

She pivots on her heeled pumps.

"If it's okay with you… Charlie, I'd like to talk."

I go back upstairs.

Because there's something smarmy in the air.

Like, she's about to seduce her estranged husband.

With her reform.

With her innocence.

They've been talking for hours.

And I'm sure I can hear tears.

From both parties.

Next, I bet, will come the kisses.

I know my mother well.

Charlie, even better.

He won't resist her.

Even though, he may want to.

When it reaches past mid-night, I know she'll be staying over.

I don't know how to feel.

Happy?

But what if she hurts him again?

When I hear Charlie's bedroom door click softy shut, I know it's her who shuts it.

When I hear nothing but the air and my heartbeat, I know it's her who's pursuing
him.

I'm not stupid.

Just a few doors down the hall, my parents are doing it.

Gross.

#*#*#*#

I can't sleep.

My earphones are kept in, permanently blasting shitty progressive rock.

Anything to keep the thoughts in my head dead.

Feeling fidgety, I get up and make my way downstairs.

Warm milk, or something.

Maybe that will help.

When I hear a creak in the staircase, I know I'm not alone.

Renee appears, her thin legs poking from underneath my father's shirt. She
creeps in, and pretends as though my presence is a pleasant surprise.

When I stare at her, she looks down.

A bashful smile on her face.

A glow of accomplishment.

"It'll be different this time," she says.

I sip my cup of cold milk. "Whatever, mom."

"Don't whatever me. Don't you see I'm trying?"

I see her half-naked.

Nothing else.

And so I just keep staring.

"Bella, don't be selfish. Don't act like you don't want this family happy."

I could say a million and one things to her at this point.

But I don't.

I just stand.

And stare.

And hope to God that I'll never end up like her.

I tip the rest of the milk in the sink, and make my way back into my room.

When I get there, Charlie is waiting.

And I can't say I'm enjoying this.

Seeing him ping-pong between us.

He looks exhausted.

"Bella."

"Don't, dad."

I slam my bedroom door shut. Rest my back against the door.

"I don't know what to tell you."

"I think I know what happened."

He looks at my computer screen.

My screensaver is Edward squinting in the Parisian sun.

"He called of late?"

I shake my head.

Charlie just nods.

I sit next to him.

"Are you two back together now?"

"She wants to try."

"Do you?"

He sighs, long and heavy. His hand comes up to stroke the back of my head.

"I don't want to cause any more drama."

Love makes you want things. Do things. Stuff you wouldn't ever see yourself
bending toward.

Like this.

"It's cool," I lie. "You go be with her if it's what you want."

Because, if ever Edward came back and was hell-bent on taking me with him, far-
far-far away from here,

I'd go.

So I can't blame Charlie.

Not even a little bit.

#*#*#*#

The thing with Ben.

He's harmless.

In every sense of the word.

He keeps his hand on the small of my back as we walk through Port Angeles.

He bought me a milkshake.

I think he thinks this is a date.

"You wanna see a movie?"

There are some new releases out.

Maybe.

I tilt my head toward a well-photo-shopped poster.

"Cool."

He grins. His teeth big and bright.

He's not so bad looking.

Quite baby-faced

"I'll pay for you."

I consider just going with it, but I wise-up and pull back. "No. I've got money."

"But I want to," he insists.

I toss my empty cup into the trash.

His eyes are so big and open at this point.

I smile at him.

He smiles back.

His voice relaxes. "Okay," he sighs. "I'll lay off."

I laugh. A little. Ben is almost cute today.

Almost.

He grabs my hand.

"Nothing mushy," I say.

"Horror," he says.

I roll my eyes.

All boys want girls to jump into their arms.

I'm not like that, though.

"How about… that one." I point to a feature that looks supremely weird.

"That looks kooky."

Kooky wins.

#*#*#*#

He takes me home. Not that he needed to.

When he walks me to the door, I know he's expecting a kiss.

And a part of me wishes I could.

Another part is pissed that I feel obligated.

Besides, although Edward and I are no longer a couple, in my mind, I'm still his.

I hope he feels the same.

Or maybe,

All that sparkle his uncle has him high on is a substantial replacement.

Ben shuffles on his feet. His head down.

He's sweet.

And nerdy.

And way too good for me.

I quickly kiss his cheek.

And he blushes.

Like, real big.

"Um. So. Night?"

"Yea, Ben. Night."

He walks away, not before turning back.

Possibly ruining a perfectly fine moment.

Possibly not.

"Thanks, Bella."

My keys dangle in the hole.

"What for?"

"For being nice."

And oh.

He knows.

Exactly how I feel about it all.

But he still tries.

That has got to,

suck.

He kicks pebbles on my drive. Turns to leave. Hands in pockets. Head to the
floor.

I may not be his 'one'.

He's definitely not mine.

But he's such a nice guy.

I give him a break.

Be nicer.

"Ben?"

I walk slowly.

Because I'm not in any hurry.

I never am.

I let out a tired breath. Unsure of what I'm about to do. Maybe even a little
upset, too.

I kiss him.

Soft and long enough for him to feel special.

No one deserves to feel rejected.

Especially by me.

He can't really kiss all that well.

But he tries.

And it's sweet.

Sweeter because he is who he is.

"Thanks," he whispers.

I lean my forehead to his.

"You're welcome."

#*#*#*#

Turns out my life is a show.

Renee was looking on through the window.

She's over here cooking food. Badly.

"He's cute," she notes. "New boyfriend?"

I resist the urge to evil-eye her.

"No."

"Just a date then?"

She's washing up knives. Un-thoroughly.

"He's a friend."

"You kiss friends like that?"

Charlie appears.

"Kiss who like what?"

He grabs an apple from the fruit bowl.

Everything is casual.

I hate it.

I pretend, though. I stuff my head in the fridge and fish out some O.J.

"Bella has a new boy-toy."

I really hate it.

"Ben," I tell them. "His name is Ben, and he's not a toy. He's just a friend. From
school."

Dad nods. Bites his apple. Has this look in eye that is all-knowing.

Renee shakes her wet hands. Water flies into the air. Onto me. Pissing me off
even further.

I huff. "And Edward is still the only boy I'm interested in. Like that."

She quits air-drying her hands. Grabs the nearest towel. "Edward is half way
across America."

Try the world.

I shrug.

"Can't help who you fall for," I murmur.

Eyes fully on Charlie, who stops munching on his damn apple.

The whole scene makes my eyes water.

I feel so out of it.

"Edward is out of the picture. Time to move on, Bella." Rene's voice is harsh.

And I get it.

Every little bit of it.

She wants to eradicate every memory of her mistake.

Mis-takes.

I wish Charlie would stand up for me.

But he just stares on dopily between us.

I swallow.

I look down.

"I'm trying," I say.

Or at least now, I am.

Bella,

My dad is signing over his parental rights to Carlisle.

They're doing it before I hit 18.

I'm coming home.

#*#*#*#

I don't know what to do.

I consider asking Renee to buy me make-up.

Seriously.

Some clothes, too.

She doesn't need to know why.

I'm considering milking her guilt. What's left of it.

When I do, she jumps up, kind of. Bright eyes and hyped sentences. "Oh, you
want a girly day out? Let's do it!"

I pretend that this is exactly what I want.

We do it.

I come home with a couple of new threads. Jeans that are tight. Shirts that are
tight. Push up bra. Mascara. Liner. Lip gloss. Sugar-water perfume.

I hope these match-up to what the girls in Paris wore.

I hope he notices.

#*#*#*#

I'm in limbo.

With Ben.

He keeps holding my hand.

He keeps smiling with me.

He keeps trying.

"I need to talk to you," I say.

"Uh oh." He jokes.

Nervously.

And releases my hand.

I quietly tell him about Edward. About how I feel.

Ben sits back in his chair.

He's not bitter.

More defeated.

"I suck." This needs to be declared. "I fucking suck."

There's a moment of nothingness.

I watch as he slowly drinks his chocolate milk.

The lunch room is too noisy.

I want to hear him breathe.

To hear myself.

"You're pissed at me."

Of course he is.

Has every right to be.

I shouldn't have kissed him.

"I'm not pissed."

"Don't lie. Be pissed."

Please.

Just hate me.

"Bella, I knew what I was up against. I'm a big boy. I think I can handle myself."

I smile at his macho-man-ness.

But I know he's got a soft heart.

I lean my head on his shoulder.

It's bony.

But it's Ben's.

He just hugs me.

And steals my pudding cup.

#*#*#*#

Edward emails me before catching his plane. Says,

Nervous about seeing you, but I can hardly wait.

There's this bouncing energy in my chest.

Angst.

Confusion.

I don't know what we are anymore.

I decide not to over-think. I decide that this time, I'll just live. In the moment. In
the time that we have. Together. Maybe not forever. But for now.

I wear my new tight jeans. I wear my new tight shirt.

My hair is okay.

A bit of make-up.

I think I look nice.

I hope he notices.

#*#*#*#

At the bench where I showed him mine.

That's where he wants to meet.

When I get there its quiet, damp, and dim. Day-light is fading. The sky merges
into an orange-navy. Air is stuck on stagnant. Clings to my throat.

I wrap my arms around myself.

I should have worn a jacket.

When I hear the low motor of a car, I don't turn to witness it.

My whole body stiff with jitters.

God.

What if he sees me and hates my hair, my face, my tight and tighter?

I'm staring out into the woods.

Like, there's something out there, waiting to devour me.

My heart.

Body.

Soul.

"Bella."

His voice is lower, deeper, softer.

His hand is on my shoulder.

"Turn around so I can see you. Please."

I do.

Turn.

Wow.

He's beautiful.

And grown-up.

And beautiful.

"Hey." He smiles at me.

And melts me.

And has the best arms to fall into.

I press my face to his chest, and he holds me tight.

"Hey," I reply.

"I missed you."

"I missed you, more."

And we hug,

and hug,

for the longest while.

And for now, it's enough.

#*#*#*#

When we pull apart, he grabs my face.

Smiles at my appearance.

He noticed.

"You look so fucking pretty."

I grin.

"When'd you get so pretty?"

I grin harder.

Edward tilts his head.

"You're boobs look bigger."

I whack him.

Because that's the old Edward creeping back in.

He looks brand new.

His shirt is pressed, as is his jeans, and he smells faintly of cologne.

It's weird.

"You." I play with the front of his shirt. "You."

That's all I can say.

I fiddle with his buttons.

Feeling shy.

Like a little girl, trying to be not so little.

His hand comes up under my chin. An index finger pushes my face up to meet
his. "What about me?"

I'm honest when I say it. "You're different."

His smile is happy, and sad.

"I'll always be whatever you want me to be, Bella."

I can't smile back.

My eyes are burning.

"Just be you."

He pulls me toward the bench.

When we sit, he speaks. Says, "So who's been taking my place whilst I've been
away? And don't say no one…"

I remember back to when he swore blind he'd kill anyone that tried.

He's a much calmer version of himself.

Rested.

Articulate?

"You first," I say.

Because I want to get the jealousy over with.

His fingers brush through his hair.

"Um."

Yea.

I suppose there's been more than one.

"I don't even want to tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because, Bella, before I left… I made such a big deal about us being exclusive. I
feel like a fraud."

That feeling you get when you know something is true, but inevitable.

He's just a boy.

Nothing else.

I can't make him be anything else.

"It's okay."

"But you deserve better. I wanted to be that person for you."

I shrug.

Pretend that it's cool.

That's life.

And people are just people.

"You were just as vulnerable as me."

His eyes widen at that.

He knows it's true.

Was just as desperate for reassurance as I was.

Maybe even more.

"One girl," he says. "She was from that school I told you about."

I nod. Pulling at the hem of my stupid, tight shirt.

"We talked about you."

I pull harder.

"She's nice. Like, really nice. And I don't know… a comfort, sort of."

And harder.

"Angela."

I hate her already.

That stupid slut... Angela.

"Um… we kind of fooled around a bit."

I hear a rip.

And so does he.

Edward grabs my hands.

"Bella..."

I look at my torn shirt.

"Ben," is all I say.

"Ben?"

"Yea. Ben. I kissed him. Once. That's it."

He swallows.

And I sniff.

For imaginary reasons.

I sniff again.

"I don't know." His voice breaks. "I had it in my head that there'd be more. That
you'd maybe even…" He winces. "Lose it to some other guy." His thumb brushes
mine, slow and shy. "You're still…?"

"Yea."

Virgin Bella.

He's silent.

Really surprised.

Really guilty.

I think he's done more with this Angela girl.

"Is she your girlfriend?"

"Who? Angela?"

I hum.

"No. Not like that. We just hang."

I push.

"Like sex? Like hang and have sex?"

He sighs. "Bella, it's not like that. You know. I may have been over-dramatic
when I left. But what I said. About loving you. About always loving you. I meant
it."

"So, yes? You have sex with her? Regular sex?"

I keep pushing.

Can't stop.

Need to know so I can get over it.

He's speaking through gritted teeth. "She's a friend. And I know she likes me.
And I like her. But I don't love her."

His shoulders slump. Air knocked right out of him after that confession.

"It's been almost a year. I wasn't expecting you to be kept on a leash. I knew
that when we broke up some other girl would find you."

"You expected me to fall in love?"

"I expected you to move on."

And he has.

In a way.

"I'm not that type of guy, Bella. You know that. A girl has to be more than just
pretty… to get me like you did."

So Angela is pretty.

I'm learning more without asking.

And clearly still riding on my jealousy.

Is he jealous of Ben?

Of my one, stupid kiss?

"I don't even know how I got you," I murmur.

"You cared. You were the first to care," he tells me. "My very first."

And I expect him to tell me that no one can change that.

That he'll always remember me.

I'm waiting for him to kiss me one more time.

Then to disappear.

Back to his new family.

Back to Angela, so she can worm her way out of the friend-zone.

"Is she good?"

"What?"

"Angela. Is she good?"

"What the fuck? Bella, what is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I'm asking."

I bite my lip to stop it from trembling.

If this is how he's leaving me.

I might as well push for more.

"I'm not even gonna…" He stops. Slumps back. "Fuck. I was stupid for thinking
that seeing you again would be easy."

I guess I'm bringing back the drama.

Dama he should be escaping.

"She's experienced."

It's a bitter pill to swallow.

Rejection seeps into my veins like needles.

Quick and sharp and hard.

I never did think he'd wait.

He has this broken look on his face.

"It was recent. I was in a bad place. I…"

"Don't want to know," I blurt. "Hurts."

My stomach is twisting.

His hand is on my back.

Rubbing.

Fuck.

Stop fucking rubbing.

I shrug him off.

"You broke up with me, Bella."

"I know."

"I thought… I don't know what I thought. I wasn't actually thinking when it
happened. It just did."

Doesn't make it better.

Still hurts.

Really hurts.

I get up.

I'm not crying.

Yet.

"Don't go."

I walk to the car.

"Bella, don't go."

Keep walking.

"I'm sorry. Please. Bella…"

He's just a boy.

Not a man.

Not yet.

Doesn't understand that something like this can ricochet.

Break a heart.

Fuck it up completely.

"I wanted her to be you."

I pause, briefly. Turn to look at him.

His face twisted.

And ugly.

"I called her your name."

My face is twisted.

And ugly.

"She slapped the fuck out of me and left."

Like I do.

I can't face him.

Not now.

#*#*#*#

When I get home downstairs is empty. It's the weekend. Dad should be in the
living room.

I walk upstairs, and I hear my mother's laughter.

Giggles.

Charlie.

Giggles.

Charlie.

I grimace.

Walk to my room and slam the door shut.

I sink into my bed and will myself not to shed one tear.

Because what's the point?

My life is a cornucopia of botches.

I wonder what's next.

I just want someone to tell me it will be alright.

But there's no one here.

My breathing gets heavier. My chest gets heavier. My worries.

Heavier.

The room spins.

And I realize that I haven't eaten at all today.

I keep swallowing. Until I feel sick.

I run to the bathroom.

And throw up.

Whatever was left in my stomach from yesterday.

I wash out my mouth and hold in my aches.

Mom is still laughing.

Its ringing in my ears.

Mocking me.

When I go back to my room, I pick up my cell.

I need someone to tell me it will be alright.

Ben.

Tell me it will be alright.

"I'm coming over. Okay? I'll be there in a minute."

When I hang up, I realize I'm crying.

Mom and dad are too busy to notice when he arrives.

I take him up to my room.

Where he holds me.

Strokes my hair.

Kisses my face.

"It will be alright, Bella."

How does he know?

"I promise."

Boys make stupid promises.

I let him kiss me, again.

Because he's sweet.

So sweet.

And I need it.

I need someone.

I pull him onto the bed with me.

I warn him that this is just what it is.

Nothing more.

He says, "It's okay, Bella. I'm okay with it."

I warn him further.

And he insists its fine.

"I don't want to break your heart," I whisper.

He wipes my tears.

"You won't."

Because as it happens.

Its mine that breaks.

Over

and over

again.

Waking up is a hard thing to do.

Not because I'm tired.

Just because.

I drag myself out of bed.

It's time for school anyway.

The morning isn't kind to parents, for some reason they are having a hushed
argument in the kitchen.

I ignore it.

Or pretend to.

Something about, 'but this will be good for us, good for her, time away'.

Charlie's eyes find mine. But I quickly avert them.

Whatever.

This is your marriage, not mine.

#*#*#*#

When I get to school my head sinks to my feet.

If possible.

Ben is by my locker.

A calming smile on his face.

I don't even know.

But for some reason.

The love I have for our friendship swells in my chest.

I don't run.

Or jog.

But my steps are pushed by invisible force.

I cave into his arms.

Ben isn't tall.

Or strong.

But he's safe.

"Morning," I mumble.

I can feel him smile into my hair.

"Morning."

There's a silent verdict to just leave all probable awkwardness alone.

And he's cool with that.

"I got you something."

He pulls out a tightly weaved bracelet.

And the gesture is almost too perfect.

He wraps it around my wrist with steady fingers.

"To the most messed up and beautiful girl I know." He smiles. "Friends?"

I eye the multi-colors. "Did you make this yourself?"

He scratches his head. "Actually, my little sister did. She got this craft machine
thingy for Christmas last year..."

I smile.

"Thanks, for…"

"It's okay, Bella." He twirls the bracelet on my wrist. "Did you talk to him?"

I shake my head.

"You should."

I can't help but ask, "But what about you?"

He shrugs. "My life is a lot less complicated."

And I know that.

Can see it in his face.

He's light-hearted.

It's almost inspiring.

"On to Algebra?" he asks, kind of excited.

And just like that.

He's back to being the nerdy comrade he always was.

#*#*#*#

Ben is making me laugh at our lunch table.

It's the way he's talking, stuttering over sentences, exclaiming his
embarrassment.

He makes me forget all the drama for a while.

And he's free.

From all the bullshit that surrounds him.

Doesn't even care.

His head may be down, but his spirit isn't…

My phone goes off.

And I know it's him.

Ben. Being privy. Says, "Go and talk to him."

I kiss his cheek and go to the parking lot.

Edward is already there.

Back to looking like the old version.

Jeans. T-shirt. Hoodie.

I walk up to him slowly.

And he greets me with a, "Hey."

"Hey."

"So the other day… that was…"

"Heinous."

He sighs. "Yea. But it had happen, right?"

I'm not sure what he's referring to.

But I can guess.

I end up skipping the day.

We end up talking.

Long hours of endless conversation that focuses on all the things we wish we
said, wish we did.

I'm still not over being sad.

But I'm over being angry.

With everything.

This suppressed journey I'm forcing on myself is becoming a strain.

I tell him about Ben.

About what happened.

And he's angry for about a minute.

Total silence.

Dead.

Quiet.

And I'm scared.

For how he'll see me.

I touch his arm attentively.

"The sad thing is that I understand. Being one hundred percent alone and
depressed, really fucking sucks."

He closes his eyes.

And I take his hand in mine.

He smiles sadly with me.

Like,

sorry,

sorry for how it happened,

shouldn't have happened this way,

but it's okay.

He continues talking, like a gush of release forces his tongue to spit out words
he's longed to confess.

"You know my father didn't even put up a fight? For custody. I mean, not that I
was expecting him to… but still. And I guess I was just looking for attention. Like,
someone to just be there for me. And I could have turned to Carlisle but shit, I
just wanted to kiss and hold a girl."

I wonder why he didn't contact me

So I ask.

"We were broken up, and this sounds bad… but I was kind of relieved… you
know? Like, there was nothing I had to be careful about…

"And I wanted to tell you, to complain to you. But how selfish would that have
been? What had I given up for you at that point? Nothing. Not one thing. A
couple hours of sleep? A few detentions? Bella, you risked Charlie's heart for me…
You took me in."

It's like we're finding each other all over again.

In our joint misery.

Except this time, the hood of his car is our bench, and the slant of the sun is our
porch light.

"Angela was convenient," he mumbles.

"Just that?"

"I'm a shit. I used her."

I try to let him know that, "Ben's a good friend."

I side eye him.

He didn't like that. Maybe he was hoping for me to mirror his words.

But he doesn't say anything concerning it.

Instead, he just sighs, "We're stupid, huh?"

Maybe.

But we're just kids.

And everything that happened was messy, and unavoidable.

The shock has somehow dissipated.

Like, a blow to head that rings faintly in your ears.

I touch his.

And his head curls towards me.

Cat-like.

Like, he was waiting for me to be affectionate.

"I still want you, Bella. I don't even care anymore. I can't stop this. I can't fight
it. I'm a fucking pussy for you."

I look at him through hazy eyes.

There's something so powerful about having the one you love want you just as
badly.

But I don't feel like I deserve it.

"I don't deserve you."

He just grabs me.

"You aren't your mistakes. And neither am I. We're just people, Bella."

I guess his life has taught him to forgive.

He doesn't want to be bitter anymore.

It messes with everything he's working toward.

A better him.

"Let's just be happy. Don't you want to be happy?"

I nod.

Crying.

"Let's just stay in this moment for a while."

I nod.

Clinging to him.

"I forgive you. Do you forgive me?"

I nod.

Holds me tighter.

"Can we just move on?"

"Yea."

"We're better than this, right?"

"Yea."

And in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in Forks, somewhere where it's green
and muggy and wet,

I fall in love all over again.

With him.

And with us.

Edward walks me up to the house.

"You gonna be okay?"

I shrug.

I don't know.

Behind this door is always a question.

I never feel peace.

Just relent.

He's about to kiss me. Give me bliss. But a voice is raised.

My mother.

Never happy.

Always ready to show it.

Edward breathes heavily and rests his forehead to mine.

"Come back to the hotel with me," he whispers. "Just come on."

He knows that ache in my chest. Has felt it too many times.

"I can't."

"Carlisle is easy. He won't mind. You can sleep with me. Come on."

His fingers lace mine.

Come on.

Let's escape.

Continue the happy.

But I can't run.

"I have to see if Charlie is alright," I say.

He groans. "I so want to tell you to ''fuck it' but I know that won't work."

I kiss him once.

And he tries to prolong it.

Lips almost trap mine in a pull.

I put my hands to his chest.

I turn anyway, and fiddle with my keys.

When the door opens it's clear that I'm stepping into a minefield.

Edward grabs my arm.

Don't.

Don't go.

Let me take you out of here.

Let me make it better.

We stand, and stare, until Renee catches us in the midst of it,

and rolls her eyes.

"Bella, get indoors."

Charlie walks up. Tiredness all over his face.

Edward straightens up. Says, "Hello, sir."

"Edward, you look well." He casts a stare between us.

I get a little shy. My eyes meeting my feet.

Something about the way Charlie can decipher us with one look.

"Are you coming in?"

Renee gives my dad a nudge.

No.

He can't intrude.

He can't be a part of this.

But I take Edward's hand in mine.

"Actually, Carlisle is probably expecting him back. Right?"

"Bella…"

Edward.

Just play along.

Don't be a savoir.

Not now.

He sighs. "Yea… I better… go."

When Edward leaves, all stiff shoulders slump.

I don't know what it was they were arguing about. A part of me is tempted to
ask. But it's one those moments. An exhausted one.

I let it lay flat.

Like the air.

Each of us suffocating from its staleness.

This whole setup is stale.

"I'm gonna take a quick nap," says Charlie.

To which that fast and ready eye roll follows.

Renee crosses her arms.

"Bella, how would you feel about moving?"

"Moving where?"

"The city," she says. "Somewhere where we can all flourish. Forks is dead."

To who?

To you?

What are you running from?

And why should I come with you?

"Damn it. Renee, I said, no."

Her eyes cut at my father. "And who are you? The law?"

He says nothing in return.

He hates to fight.

Instead, he asks, "What is it there, that you can't find here?"

My thoughts exactly.

Renee is a housewife. Not a career woman.

Not that it would matter.

But in this case it does.

What would she do in the city?

"We can't uproot. I have job-security here. This house is paid for."

"We can sell it!" Her hands rise. Matches her voice. "I hate it here! Reminds me
of too many bad things."

"We met here. We had a family here. Bella was…"

"Bella what? Bella is a child! Bella can adjust."

Speak for me why don't you?

I let them.

I make little steps back.

Back toward the door.

My phone slips out of my pocket.

I have him on speed-dial.

And just when I think that the easiest thing to do is leave, my father's voice
booms.

The house literately shakes.

Earthquakes the floorboards.

And Renee clutches her chest.

She's pushed him too far.

The veins in his head throb.

"Get out! Get out of this house if it bothers you so much. Leave and go live the
new life you want so bad. But we won't follow. We have our foundations. It's
clear yours are built on whatever cracks you've dreamt up!"

I stand with my back to the door.

For the first time in my life, I'm afraid of my father, and what he might do.

To himself.

I've never seen him cry.

But I think he might.

In front of me.

For the very first time.

His head hangs. "I can't do anything to make you love us."

She should love us.

Love me.

Love me, Renee.

Love me and us.

"Mom?"

"What, Bella?"

"Is it me?"

Another eye roll.

Another breath loosed.

"It's not all about you, Bella! This family does not revolve around you!"

But she made it.

She made me a problem.

And I guess, because of that, I made her one, too.

But what do I know?

"You're just a kid. A stupid kid!"

Charlie gets her coat. "Leave. Please. I can't choose. I won't. I'll let you do that.
Like you did before."

She grabs it. Says, "You drove me out. You and your stupid need to be
everything, to everyone, everyone but me."

My fault.

All my fault.

"Mom, I'll leave."

Charlie's eyes bulge.

"I'll go. I'll find somewhere, so you and dad can work it out. Because. Because I
want you happy. I want dad happy."

She stutters. Then manages, "But where would you go?"

A knock at the door.

A firm one.

Edward pushes it lightly.

It was still open.

And he never left.

"I'll take her," he offers.

Charlie fumes. "No. No fucking way is my daughter leaving me!"

Renee winces.

As do I.

"Just a couple of days," I murmur. I then speak directly to my father. "You have
nothing to lose."

He looks at Renee. He looks at me.

And then Renee starts to weep.

Realizing how stupid it is.

How necessary it is.

I'll give her this retreat if she needs it.

If they work out their problems.

Kids complicate things, don't they?

Let's be real.

"Come on," Edward whispers. Takes my arm with gentle verve.

Before I leave, I walk to my father. I hug him tightly.

And he's almost dead.

Like, hard and dead.

And then I turn to Renee.

And I hug her as well.

"I love you, mom."

She weeps harder.

And Edward takes me away.

Far, far, away.

To his hotel.

Where it's all brand new and quiet.

As quiet as I am.

"Are you gonna be okay?"

I shrug.

I don't know.

"I just hope they are."

Whilst Edward switches on the TV and strips down to near nothing, I get a text
from Ben.

-she said yes.

I smile.

See, he's had his eye on this girl that wears glasses. Real cute. Into retro. Wears
her hair in finger waves.

She's a year older than us.

Works at the bookstore he visits to fuel his comic fixation.

-awesome.

-i'ma a stud.

I smile.

-whatever.

-i'm buying some trojans.

I laugh a little.

That girl is known for being a sexpot.

And she'll eat him alive.

Or at least,

that's what he's hoping.

My chuckle catches Edward's attention.

This is something I wish I could share. But I know better.

Instead, I quickly reply.

-t.m.i.

"What?" Edward asks.

"Nothing."

He thankfully drops it. Walks around in his boxers.

There's a slight smirk on his face.

Really smug.

I suppose the airy atmosphere of the hotel sets a light tone.

For now.

"Want me to ask Esme for some clothes?"

Esme. Carlisle's wife. His new 'mom'.

"Can't I just borrow your stuff?"

He grins.

Chucks a wife-beater at me.

"Put that on."

Chucks a pair of sweats at me.

"And this."

I catch them and say, "Can I take a shower?"

"Yea. With me."

As if.

This isn't a porno.

I get up, and shut the bathroom door behind me.

#*#*#*#

I feel like I'm on a holiday.

I lay back on fluffy pillows as he orders room service.

He seems to be enjoying this.

Showing off his new privileges.

Using them for me.

He lies down next to me, on his stomach. His arm draped around my middle.

"Tell me what to do," he says.

"You're doing fine."

"You think so?"

I finger the hair on his arm. Nod once.

He scoots close, so his body is touching mine. "Can I kiss you?"

"Mmhm."

He lifts himself up and over me. "Can I tell you I love you?"

I just smile.

"Bella?"

"Mm?"

"I love you."

It's hard not feel okay. Not to feel like this boy can solve everything with his
devotion.

I think it's real this time.

And as we kiss, that part of me that nags every dream I dream slowly dies.

"It feels good," he says.

What?

"Being free of shit. Being free with you."

I allow myself the privilege of forgetfulness.

I pretend that my parents are happy together.

I pretend that his real parents are the ones down a few doors.

I pretend that I'm this different Bella, in a different universe, and he's my beau.

Some form of perfectness.

No dramas.

No real issues.

I'm a good girl with a good heart.

And Edward is my reward.

For being good.

Not a stumble-upon.

Not for being the mess I really am.

And I guess in all my daydreaming, I drift.

"Hey," he whispers. "You look so far away."

I am.

With you.

I want to be normal.

As of now.

But I worry it's too soon.

Too slutty.

Is wanting to sleep with him a bad thing?

I don't even know anymore.

If love is just a word.

A feeling.

An action.

What should be my action?

I just lay there.

Not dead.

Very much alive.

But scared.

He kisses my forehead, and gets up to answer the door. He wheels in a table of
treats. Food that looks exotic.

Or maybe it's just arranged real fancy.

"Come on, let's eat."

I get up, and he puts up the volume on the TV. We watch, and eat, and smile.

And for some reason, this normal, and boring, and easy,

feels perfect.

#*#*#*#

-where are you? you promised to text me your whereabouts.

-where are you?

-bella, I wasn't in my right mind. come home.

-bella, stop ignoring these texts.

-are you safe?

-i'm going to see his father, I'm going to get carlisle's number, because you're
not answering.

-i'm worried sick.

#*#*#*#

Charlie's texts are frantic.

I reply with a call.

And I find out that he's been trying to contact me since I left.

So many missed calls.

I feel careless.

But I was.

For a moment.

And it was nice.

But now.

Guilt.

"Dad?"

"Don't you ever leave me again."

"How's mom?"

"She's… asleep. We… we're not… Bella… It doesn't matter. Just come home."

"Are you working stuff out?"

"What part of it doesn't matter are you not understanding?"

Edward listens on, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration.

"Dad."

I don't know how to say it.

But somehow I do.

"I want to stay here for the night."

There's silence.

And then, "That's not appropriate."

"Please."

"For what? What are you two doing?"

That could have been a loaded question.

But all we've done so far is kiss.

Nothing else.

"It's not like that…"

"Like what?"

"Like how you think. He's a good guy. You know that."

Charlie sighs.

He's still tired.

Maybe that's why his usual judgement is willing.

"One night. Don't. Don't do anything bad. I mean. Be good."

"I will be."

To him.

We say our iloveyous and hang up.

And the look on Edward's face is still there.

That 'what should I do next' strain.

"What should I do?"

I want to ask him to hold me, but instead I just shrug. Feel deflated, somewhat.
Like, all I'm good for is problems.

"Come here." He pulls me to him. "Tell me what you want. I'm not a mind
reader."

Stupid me does nothing to comply.

Stupid me has nothing to offer.

But

A kiss.

So we do that.

We kiss.

And eventually, he's more ardent.

More passionate.

Because all he is, is a boy.

With a penis.

That is now poking me.

I'm not sure what to do.

So I just keep doing.

Kissing.

"I want to make love," he says.

Breath, all out of breath.

Sounds like he's dying. Sounds like he's barely in control of his lungs.

I touch his cheek to calm him down. I say, "I'll do whatever you want."

Because I love you.

So much.

And there's no strings here.

No emotion that mistreats my heart.

Just this need to pour it forth.

Like water.

Like air.

Like, I need to be whatever he needs.

Because that is what I need.

He descends. Lifting cotton. Up again. My top and pants off.

He ascends. Lifting cotton. Down again. His top and pants off.

Naked.

And marvelled.

"You're beautiful," he tells me.

Which may or may not be true.

But what we have makes me believe him.

"So are you."

And I don't feel horny.

Just peaceful.

And that's a hundred times better.

Because if we stay together, there'll be other times for that.

But not now.

He rests carefully on top of me.

Deep kisses that arouse my state of mind.

I tell him I love him, and he whispers it in my ear, in my mouth, before his lips
take mine, and he pushes in.

And our bodies are in sync.

Slow.

No hurry.

He keeps opening and closing his eyes.

Like if he blinks hard enough, I'll disappear.

"Why does this feel like a dream?" he whispers.

And if I wasn't the girl he loved, I may have lampooned his verse.

"You're my dream."

Because all his words are sounding off as songs.

I just lace my fingers in his.

And he grips them tightly.

And we come together, in mind.

Body, not so much.

I can feel his heart skipping madly against mine.

He sounds almost mad.

As he pushes a little harder.

Is this okay?

His eyes are wide.

I'll stop… or at least I'll try to, if it's not.

I just encourage him.

And he looks so different.

When he comes.

A mixture of shock, and panic, and I can't believe this is happening… as he does.

"Oh my fuck," he groans.

And he collapses.

And then he curses again.

"Sorry, sorry, I'll make it good for you… I just didn't expect to feel that way."

And before I can tell him not to worry.

He's hell bent on giving me what he's just had.

And when I get it, he watches my face lose its pretty.

I bet I look manic.

But in the moment I can't care.

He kisses me softly.

"I love you, Bella."

I tell him the same.

We don't fall asleep.

He just buries his head into my chest.

The TV suddenly sounds a little louder.

Didn't even realize it was on.

I want to stay in this.

Whatever this is.

"Let's run away," he says.

I smile at his romance.

"Let's rob a bank, and run away."

"Who are you? Clyde?"

He grins into my breasts.

And pins me down with a kiss.

"Shut up, Bonnie."

My father's arms are tightly wrapped around

Edward.

For some reason, he's emotional.

Says, "Thank you. For looking after her."

And Edward, being him, just stands there awkwardly.

A pat to my father's back.

And apart.

"You're welcome."

That stiffness releases once he sets eyes on me.

This brightness to his stare.

That adore.

That I don't feel worthy of.

Because let's be real.

I'm not.

I take him outside with me to say goodbye.

"We're going back tomorrow. You gonna miss me?"

His smile is playful.

But I know his heart isn't.

"Nope."

"No?"

"Not one bit."

I'm bouncing back the mood.

Really trying to be upbeat.

"Sucks for you, huh?"

He just grins. Tells me shut the fuck up.

Which makes me laugh.

Because his harsh words come out softly. Like baby's breath.

"Call me?"

"Yea," I reply.

"Or, I'll call you."

"Yea."

When he leaves, I creep back inside.

My mother is somewhere upstairs. Doing… something.

Charlie is in the kitchen. Leaning against the counter.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For being an air head."

It's okay.

I understand.

Mom has that effect on you.

I shrug. "No big deal, right?"

What I mean is

I forgive you.

Because love forgives.

And boy, do I love my dad.

He smiles.

And so do I.

"I see you two are back at it."

Renee comes in with crossed arms. Her face drained of color.

I almost feel bad for her.

Because she's worked so hard to be back here.

With us.

Where she should belong.

But sometimes. The things that should be.

Never are.

And all she is a woman.

Insecure.

As I.

And demanding of everything.

Here and there isn't enough.

I dislike the fact that she makes problems for herself.

I dislike the fact that she makes problems for Charlie.

But I don't dislike her.

I would still. Very gladly. Jump in front of a bullet for my mother.

I love her.

And I'm sure she loves me.

But sometimes,

She becomes a monster.

Green eyed.

Over

"Charlie," she says. "You were the best I ever had."

I feel as though I should go.

Let them have their moment.

But as I slip by her, she grabs my arm.

"And so were you," she whispers. "My Bella."

She kisses my forehead.

And disappears out the door.

Out of the house.

Charlie hugs me.

"You okay?"

"I am if you are."

He shrugs. "I am."

#*#*#*#

A few months later.

We're having lunch outside.

Charlie has grown stubble. Is in a linen shirt and jeans.

Looks from women are as usual.

As is my embarrassment.

"Gross," I mutter as we discuss this fact.

He snorts. "Hater."

I laugh.

Like, really.

"They stink of desperate."

"That doesn't mean I'm paying them any mind. Plus, I got my girl right here." His
hand scruffs up my hair.

And then we spot Carlisle. "Being cheeky?"

His smile is permanent. Always on high voltage.

And he looks strangely orange today.

But I pretend not to notice.

Charlie finishes his toast. "She's always that."

Carlisle joins us. Eats an orange segment.

"So, my wife and I are having a little get-together. Old friends. New."

#*#*#*#

The party in question, is a big affair.

Seems as though they're big spenders.

A little tacky.

A little over-the-top.

But genuine.

Edward hands me a glass of clear liquid.

"Swiped it from the kitchen," he tells me.

I sniff it.

Odourless.

"Seriously?"

My eyebrow arches.

This is not water.

He grins into his 'mug' of 'something'.

"I want to see you smashed."

"What type of boyfriend wants to see that?"

He sips and inhales.

Apparently he does.

"Have you ever been drunk?"

No.

"Yes."

"You're lying."

I am.

"No, I'm not."

He cocks his head.

And scoffs.

"You suck."

At lying?

Yea.

Pretty much.

But it's fun.

When it's harmless.

"You like it," I mutter.

He's just about to say something smart back.

But Esme, the new mom, interrupts. "You two still going out later?"

Wow.

She's orange, too.

Edward talks, says something about sights, and sounds.

We're going on a date later.

Or maybe.

Now.

"Come on." He takes my hand in his, and we're out the door.

"I thought we were staying for a bit?"

"Changed my mind."

We walk silently out of the drive. As I'm ahead of him, he pulls me back by bra
straps.

My fault for wearing a racer back.

I wasn't sure it was appropriate, but Esme was cool. Said, "Oh, but it's a lacy bra,
and that's a pretty top. It's very 'indie' that look."

I had eyed myself in the mirror.

Couldn't determine if I was trendy or trashy.

Maybe I was both.

"You look funny in that outfit," Edward says.

"Fuck you," I reply.

Now. Definitely trashy.

He rolls his eyes.

"Well, look at me." He points to his khaki shorts. "I'm a fucking douche, too."

Yea.

He has a point.

But when you're somewhere that is elsewhere, your normal isn't your average.

As in,

you tend to try different things.

Such as visible bra straps and khaki pants.

I hop onto his back, and he carries me to the car.

Complaining about how heavy I am.

We pseudo argue. Enjoying our stupidity.

His new home has hotter weather.

I can feel him sweating beneath his t-shirt.

"Hey, Edward?"

"What, fatty?"

I resist the urge to strangle him.

Instead, I pinch his cheek real hard.

He winces.

I talk.

"You're happy."

He releases my legs, and I slide down to face him.

"Yea."

"You think we're gonna last?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like… last. This whole long distance thing."

We're leaning on a car.

Some car.

There are three in this drive.

"I think we can."

Really?

He huffs. "You seriously need to stop with the negativity."

I smile.

He's such a dreamer now.

Now that his dreams,

are kind of coming into order.

"You know I never saw myself with a serious girlfriend. Like. Ever."

I make a face.

Yea.

I knew.

He was the whore next door.

Kind of.

"And now look. I've got you." He looks back to the house. "And this."

It's almost too good.

But it's true.

"And you've got me," he adds.

Takes my hands.

Takes my hips.

"All of me."

There are times in our relationship, where he is insistently mushy.

I'm not used to it.

So I usually make fun of him.

Say something like, "Pussy."

But his eyebrows furrow.

And he kisses me once.

"I mean it, Bella. Really."

I know he does.

But in some ways I'm still the same girl.

The one who used to sit with him on the porch and smart mouth him, curse at his
douchery, pretend like I didn't care.

Don't know if I can deny that part of me.

That part that likes to play it cool.

Because I am not one for movie-moments.

I just draw an imaginary heart on his chest.

Let that be that.

He knows what I mean.

"Come on," he says. "Let's go be normal and make out in the back of a cold
movie theatre."

When I get into the car, and watch him strap in, his eyes catch mine.

That silent I love you is exchanged.

He flips on the radio.

Some love-appropriate song fills our eardrums.

It's awkward.

And lovely.

In a weird kind of measure.

Measure of my heart.

That beats happily in its cage.

Things may never be perfect.

But it's ours.

And when I return back home with Charlie, I find a key-ring added to my set of
keys.

I phone Edward to see if he put it there.

"Yea," he says.

"What for?" I ask.

"A pussy way of asking."

"Asking what?"

"Well, we're going back out there this summer. Will you come with me?"

The mini Eiffel Tower sits in my palm.

Charlie looks over.

Smug and shrewd written all over his face.

I fight hard to resist my smile as I reply.

"Yea."

END.

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