DaPK Chapter 18 - Broken Up Beats

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Chapter 18 - Broken Up Beats

EPOV

"Yo, dude." I whip my head around, startled, my heart slamming against my chest. Jasper's eyes widen and he takes a step back like I might start swinging at him. "Whoa, what the hell, Edward? I've been calling your name for like five minutes."

I close my eyes and try to ignore the warning bells clanging in the back of my mind. Something's wrong with Bella; I can feel it. I blow out an icy breath, pissed and cold and wanting to be anywhere but standing in the middle of a soccer field three hours away from her, freezing my balls off.

Think about next weekend. Think about next weekend. Think about next weekend, I chant over and over in my head.

It helps, but that foreboding feeling still lingers. I ignore Jasper for a few minutes and stretch, concentrating on getting loose and the game, instead of the fact that I can see my own breath because it's so damn cold. Ahh, soccer in December. Joy. I tug on my knit hat and flex my glove-covered fingers. The tip of my nose is probably red, my ears, too, I bet, and we've only been out of the car twenty minutes.

It's going to be a long ass day.

"Spill it. What's going on? You already thinking about next weekend?" Jasper waggles his eyebrows as he pulls his gloves on.

I can't stop the grin that spreads, but it's short-lived. "Nah, man, not really. It's just Bella. I have a feeling something's wrong and I can't shake it."

"You two are fine, right?" I roll my eyes because of course we are.

"It's nothing like that. It's her mom. I didn't get to talk to her much last night and then we had to leave so early this morning so I haven't heard from her yet, but I know she was worried about Renée. She had a fever and Bella wanted to talk to Dad. She was so distracted by the time I got back on the phone with her, she barely said more than a few words."

I lose my train of thought for a minute while my mind wanders and then I focus again on Jasper, who's waiting patiently for me to keep going. Our teammates are warming up around us. Emmett's in the goal with the assistant coach kicking ball after ball after ball at him and normally my blood would be singing, my body primed and ready to play, but right now, the only thing I want to do is go home. "I just don't know how Bella will handle it if anything happens to her mom. I should be there with her, not here."

Frustrated, I hop up and look around for something, anything to help me get rid of some of the tension. Nothing. I clench my fingers, making fists, which isn't anywhere near satisfying enough because I have gloves on; I can't get them to close tight enough. I groan. I take a few deep breaths because really, right this second, I feel like I could scream, and then in the next second, I unclench my fingers and roll my shoulders. I'm acting like an idiot.

"Hey," Jasper says quietly as he stands next to me. "She'll be okay, and if she needs you, she'll call. If anything's going on with her mom, you know your dad will be there with her, too."

I nod. "I just came to the same conclusion."

He slaps me on the back, not that I can really feel it considering I'm wearing three layers of clothing just to keep from freezing to death. Thirty-five degrees might not seem that bad, but it's the asscrack of dawn, it's damp, and it's fucking cold - I don't care what anyone says. The schools in California are looking better and better all the time.

"Your girl's strong. She's not the same girl you told me about over the summer, not even the same one I met a few months ago. Trust her to let you know if she needs you." The look on my face makes him laugh and then he shrugs his shoulders. "What? Just because I'm not as close to Bella as Emmett is, doesn't mean I don't pay attention or care about what happens to her."

"I know," I tell him because I do know. That's just the way he is. "And you're right. She's so much stronger than before. She'll handle whatever it is, and if she can't, well, then I'll just make damned sure I'm there." A deep breath and I focus on what I need to do. "Let's do this shit and kick some ass. I hate playing this fucking team."

He laughs and agrees with me. "Bunch of whiny pussies. Remember last time we played them and the forward tried to do that lame ass bicycle kick and wound up flat on his back? Funniest shit ever, man."

Nerves finally settle and I shake off the worry about Bella and Renée. It's not like it'll go away, but I have two games to play and I can't let my team down by losing focus. Standing up straight, I put my game face on and take a deep breath, hold it until it burns, then let it out, relishing the adrenaline flowing through my veins.

"That's the Edward I know and love." Jasper grins as we walk to the bench for the same pep talk Coach gives us before every game.

Once the whistle blows and my legs start moving, everything fades away but the way it feels to be on the field. Muscles flex and stretch as I run. Pushing, maneuvering, shooting, the game, right here, right now, is all I can think about. Working the ball with Jasper, executing the perfect play, it's everything. The game ebbs and flows in a flurry of shouts and elbows and by the end we win, of course, and I revel in the high.

"Awesome game, my man." Emmett grunts as he plops down beside me on the bench. His jersey's a mess, his face, too, but he's got a smile a mile wide despite looking like he's been rolling around in the mud … which I guess he has.

"Any word?" Jasper asks as he sits on the other side of me and I shake my head. I checked my phone as soon as I walked off the field. "Not even a text," I tell him and sigh. "I wish she'd just let me know everything is okay."

"What? What's going on? Is Bella okay?" Emmett asks and the smile that was just there is gone, just like that.

I shrug. "No idea. I haven't talked to her today. She was worried about Renée last night and spoke to my dad. I just have a really bad feeling is all."

"Well, fuck." Emmett huffs and I nod.

"Exactly," I agree.

"Let me know when you hear from her, okay?"

"Yep." He'll worry every bit as much as me all day until we hear something. I know him. Under all that muscle is a heart of gold and he loves Bella.

We don't have time to dwell though, so after shooting off yet another text to Bella, we meet up with the rest of the team to check into the hotel and change before the next game. I get sad for a minute as I listen to the guys laugh and joke around as we walk toward the parking lot. This has been my life for the past few years, playing on the weekends, spending the night in the same hotel, going to the same few restaurants to eat, hanging out in our rooms at night. I'm going to miss it. The tournament this weekend is one of the last few we'll play together as a team. There will be two or three in the spring, and then, this will all be nothing but memories - good ones; ones I'll never forget.

Even with the nagging suspicion that all is not well at home, the rest of the day goes by quickly. The second game is harder than the first and by the time we're back at the hotel to change for dinner, I'm sore as hell and tired, so tired. I check my phone after a quick shower and finally there's a message from Bella. It doesn't make me feel any better; if anything, it only makes things worse.

Bad day. I'll talk to you later.

That's it. No I love you, not even an X or an O.

Shit.

I don't even bother to text her back, I call instead. Voicemail. God damn it. I call Dad, thinking if it's Renée, he'll know what's going on. His goes to voicemail, too. Mom doesn't answer hers either and I don't know Phil's number or else I'd call him. I know Rose hasn't heard from Bella because she'd have told Emmett and he'd tell me before they even hung up.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Anxious, I pace, clutching the phone in my hand. The sense that something's wrong is so fucking strong. I can feel it seep into my bones, and it sucks being so far away, reinforcing every reason I have for wanting Bella to come with me after graduation. It's not so much that I don't think she's capable of being on her own or without me, because of course she can; it's more about me than anything. I know this. I want to be there for her, beside her, helping her if she needs me, encouraging when she's scared, and the one who's front and center whenever she does something that merits celebrating. And selfishly, when I play, wherever it is, I want her in the stands, cheering for me. Even though we haven't spent the night together, and holy hell I can't wait for next weekend, I already know it's what I want every single night. She's what I want.

"Ed ..." Jasper says, but then stops when he sees me pacing, still in just my towel. "What happened?"

"I still don't fucking know. Bella finally sent a text but all she said was that she was having a bad day. I've tried getting in touch with Dad and Mom, but they're not answering their phones. I don't know how to get in touch with Phil or Maggie and I know Rose hasn't talked to her or else Em would have said something. She won't answer her phone or my texts and I'm about to go out of my fucking mind. This isn't like her, Jas, not at all."

He runs a hand through his hair, then shoves his hands in his pockets. A beat, then, "No, it's really not." We stare at each other, saying nothing, until he clears his throat. "I know this sucks but there's nothing we can do about it now. Let's just meet everyone in the lobby and go eat. Maybe by the time dinner's done Bella will call back or you'll hear from your parents."

As much as I am not in the mood to be around everyone else, I'm starving and I know that sitting around the room, worrying, isn't going to do anything but give me a headache, so I nod, grab my clothes, then get dressed in the bathroom.

Dinner's decent. It's not where I want to be, or what I want to be doing, but listening to the guys cut up and try to out-gross each other is always entertaining. You'd think Emmett would run out of ways to burp and fart and generally be disgusting, but he really hasn't. Sitting around the table, I watch Emmett, he watches Jasper who in turn watches me in some weird, but strangely normal, merry-go-round of glances. It kinda makes me want to laugh at how ridiculous we must look, but instead, it's comforting to know they have my back … like always.

I check my phone every few minutes, so much so that Marcus quips, "Cullen's either in trouble with his girl or she's sending him dirty pictures because I swear he's checked his phone about fifty times since we sat down."

Everyone at the table laughs and even though I don't much feel like going along with the teasing, I do, because these are my friends and my shit's … well, mine. "Dude, you're just pissed I have a girl, don't even lie." To my ears my voice sounds flat, even though I try not to let it, but everyone laughs, so I guess no one noticed.

Except Coach.

He doesn't say anything out loud, merely raises an eyebrow and I give what I hope is at least a semblance of a smile and nod, before turning my attention to my food.

The walk back to the hotel is boisterous and rowdy, like it always is when a bunch of eighteen-year-olds guys are together and we spill into the hotel, causing everyone in the lobby to look in our direction. We're waiting for the elevators, when finally, fucking finally, a phone call from Dad.

"What's going on? Tell me," I demand without even saying hello but it's the too-long pause, followed by the sigh … the doctor one that turns my blood turn to ice.

"It's bad," I choke, knowing the answer before he can even tell me.

"Son," he says, then he clears his throat. A bad sign - a really fucking bad one.

"Just tell me."

"Renée spiked a fever and was having some complications, but we've gotten it under control," he begins slowly, but it's his voice, the way he's trying to speak calmly that has me about two seconds from pulling my hair right the fuck out of my head.

"Dad," I say through gritted teeth.

Another sigh, and this one makes me fall into the closest chair and close my eyes. "Bella's not handling things very well."

My heart stops and I'm up on my feet, the relief that Renée is okay gone.

"What? What do you mean? What's wrong? Why hasn't she called me?" I fire questions at him one right after the other, each one making my voice raise higher and higher, so much so that Jasper's got one hand one shoulder and Emmett's is on the other, holding me in place.

"Edward, son, calm down. I know this is hard but getting yourself upset and worked up isn't going to help anyone, least of all Bella."

I want to yell at him, but I know he's right so I concentrate on taking a few deep breaths so I can find out what the fuck is going on. "All right, I'm listening."

"Bella called me early this morning, right after you boys left, to say that Renée had a slight fever and was very pale. I went by the house to check on her and discovered that she was correct and there was a slight build-up of fluid in her lungs … the early stages of pneumonia most likely, which I'm sure you know can be quite serious for someone in Renée's condition. Bella was right to be worried, but I started her on an IV and Renée's fever hasn't gotten any higher so I'm fairly confident we've caught this before it can get any worse."

He sounds tired and worried, and I know that's the Dad in him slipping out, not the doctor.

"Well," I begin slowly, and squeeze my eyes closed. "It could have been worse," I cringe, whispering the last part.

God, just saying that out loud makes me feel like a gigantic asshole, but fucking hell. The thought of Bella upset is killing me, especially when she's all alone.

"Yes, it could have, quite easily, too, and it's been quite a wake-up call for Bella I'm afraid. Renée's condition has been so stable that it's been easy to cling to the hope that she could wake up, but this is the first real complication Renée's had and Bella was not prepared."

"Motherfucker," I mutter, not even caring that I just said that to my dad.

There's another pause and my skin prickles and a shiver walks down my back. "Dad, tell me. What else?"

He blows out a breath and I can just see him rolling his eyes and staring at the ceiling like he always does before he's about to say something I don't want to hear. I'd be willing to bet he's twirling a pen around in his fingers, too.

"Just tell me," I implore.

"Phil called," he says then stops for a moment, and simply says, "it didn't go well."

"Define not well," I demand, stomping back and forth in the entry. My mind's already working, planning, trying to figure out how the hell I can get back to Forks.

"There was a lot of yelling and crying on Bella's end. And then she was quiet, and now she's outside, and she's been there for hours with the door locked. Maggie says there's a key, but I don't feel comfortable barging in there when she's upset and clearly wants to be alone." Then quietly he says, "She needs you, son."

I freeze in place as if my feet have been covered in cement. Every ounce of breath leaves my body is one painful gush and my chest feels like it's caving in. Struggling to breathe and fighting wave after wave of pure, unadulterated anguish at the fact that I'm not there, I try to focus on Bella. Like a slideshow, images of her flash in my mind … her crying, needing me, and feeling all alone because I'm not there.

God damn it. I knew it. I felt it. I knew something was wrong, yet I left anyway. Motherfucker.

Throat raw, eyes burning, I force it all down, bury it for the time being. The only thing that is important right now is getting home, getting to Bella.

"Dad, I didn't drive. I guess I can try to find a place to rent a car or something, but it'll take time." Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Mind racing a mile a minute, I am already trying to calculate how long it will take me to get to a rental car place, fill out the paperwork, and get on the road. Hours. Four at the least until I can get to Forks. Shit.

I'm so close, so fucking close to losing it right here in the lobby until I feel keys pressed into my palm.

Emmett.

"Take the truck. I'll have Rose or my mom come get us tomorrow, or we'll have Coach bring us home. Don't worry about me and Jas. Go. Now."

"Dad, I'm on my way. Tell Bella I'm coming. I'll be there in a few hours."

I hang up after promising him I'll be careful and not speed, one he has to know I made while keeping my fingers crossed because, yeah, fuck that.

I look from Emmett to Jasper, a million things I should say, want to, need to say, but all I can manage is, "Thank you."

"As if." Emmett waves my thanks away, but his eyes are glassy and I know he wants to go with me, too. "Go. I'll talk to Coach, but make sure you call him from the road and let him know what's going on and send a text when you get to Forks. We'll drop your gear off when we get home tomorrow." Jasper throws his arms around me, then Emmett does and we stand that way for a few seconds.

"You guys are the best," I whisper hoarsely, tears threatening and feeling closer to them both than I ever have in my life.

"Be careful," Jasper warns, "and give Bella our love. If you guys need anything, call. We'll be home by tomorrow afternoon."

"Tell the team …" I gulp, knowing there is nowhere on Earth I need to be more than with Bella, but still, they're my team and I hate letting them down.

A slap on the back then a slight shove from Emmett. "They'll understand, don't worry about it. Edward, go," he urges when he sees me hesitate again.

And with that, I turn and rush outside without looking back. I try not to think as I maneuver through the traffic toward Forks. There are so many thoughts bouncing around in my head it feels like it might explode. Worry for Bella is at the top, followed by being pissed she didn't call me, then guilt for being mad … and for ditching my teammates, followed by the need to just be home so I can see and hold my girl and make sure she's okay.

Mile after mile passes, no radio, no sound besides the hum of the engine and the drone of the tires as they slap against the asphalt.

My foot presses the gas pedal harder, my fingers tighten on the steering wheel and I swear I can feel Bella.

"I'm coming, baby. Hang on for me," I whisper into the night.

~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~

BPOV

"Bella, sweetheart," I hear after a soft knock on the door. "Edward's on his way. He'll be here as soon as he can," Carlisle tells me and I pull the wool blanket tighter around me. I open my mouth to say something back, but the words die in my throat. I want him here, I do, and I tell myself to hang on just a little longer until he can put me back together again. It's not fair, I know it's not, to need him in this way.

"Do you need anything?" he tries again and I hold my breath until I hear his footsteps crunch across the ground as he walks away, leaving me alone.

The way I'll be when Mom leaves me.

Tears come again, hot and fast, even though I don't know how it's possible I have anymore left inside of me. It feels like I haven't stopped crying for days.

I close my eyes and rest my chin on my knees, curling my fluffy-sock-covered toes over the edge of the loveseat, and wonder how in the hell everything got so bad so fast. One minute I was waking up early to send Edward a good morning/good luck text before he left for Seattle and the next I was standing beside Carlisle as he injected my mom with antibiotics to try to keep her from slipping any further. The whole morning is pretty much a blur, but the panic, the bone-crushing fear of this being the end still lingers, making it hard to breathe.

I should call Edward, send him a text at least, but my phone's in the house and I have no desire to go back in there. No, here, on the loveseat, wrapped in my dad's blanket suits me just fine. My eyes wander, everything familiar and in its place, but providing none of the comfort it usually does. Not my drums, not the car, not even the worn, somewhat scratchy blanket I huddle under.

Wrapping my arms tighter around my legs, I close my eyes, and press my forehead against my knees. Words from before flit through my mind. Hateful words. Painful words. Words unable to be taken back, even if they're somehow forgiven.

How could you?

You ran away!

If you loved her, you'd be here!

My father wouldn't have ...

I curl tighter, squeeze harder, trying to make myself as small as I can like it might change things, but still the words bang around in my head.

Phil must be so angry with me, so hurt, and I wouldn't blame him a bit. God, the things I said to him.

I'm tired, so very tired, and I let myself lean against the arm of the loveseat and try not to think about the ramifications of the words hurled at the man who's done nothing but love me and treat me as his own.

Gnawing on my bottom lip until I taste blood, I stand in the corner and watch Carlisle as he checks Mom's vitals. He murmurs quietly to both Maggie and Kate who nod every few seconds. The monitors beep intermittently, the whooshing sound of the oxygen being pumped into her body makes her chest rise and fall, rise and fall. She's pale, so pale, ghostly white and the inky blue of her veins beneath her translucent skin looks like some sort of grotesque abstract art, blue lines dripping down white canvas. Lying prone, and so very still, eyes closed like always. All she's missing is the fancy dress and the coffin. The thought slams into me and I swallow a sob and some weird sort of cough/choke sound bubbles up my throat.

Oh. God.

I close my eyes, and push back the image of seeing Mom laid out on her deathbed and try to take a few deep breaths. It hurts. It hurts so much. Every part of me aches and I hate it. Carlisle's only been here a few hours but it feels like days, weeks. Every fear, every worst case scenario I've lived over and over again in my head, a hundred times, a thousand, just since this morning. I thought I was close to being ready to say goodbye, to let Mom go, but I'm not. Not like this, not now.

"Bella, sweetheart, why don't you go sit down in the living room? I'll come get you when I'm done in here. There's nothing really to do now but wait. Everything's stabilizing so I think we've dodged a bullet. You look like you're about to collapse. Go drink some juice or something and then you can come sit with Renée if you'd like."

I blink at Carlisle and I wait so long to reply back to him, he's tipped his head and starts to walk forward, worry written plain as day all over his handsome face.

I want Edward.

The thought comes unbidden, but as it spreads through me, I know it's nothing but the truth. He'd hold me, whisper in my ear that everything will be okay, and make it all better.

Even as I stand in my mom's sick room, because let's be honest and call it what it truly is, breaking apart on the inside, I'm still selfish enough to want Edward with me.

"You should call him," Carlisle says softly, knowing exactly what I'm thinking in that crazy, Carlisle Cullen way where he sees way more than a normal person. Always.

I nod, knowing that as much as I want to talk to him, as much as I need to hear his voice … I won't call.

Turning, I hide in the kitchen. The warmth of the room, all the hints of red and green and white, Santas and snowmen and angels and reindeer spread throughout the house, and I'm cold. And tired. And God, so damn scared. Angry. It's there, simmering below the surface. I can feel it.

I fucking hate it.

Carlisle comes out a few minutes later, giving me an update. The words wash over me, in one ear and out the other. There should be relief that as these things go, it was minor. A slight fever, a little bit of fluid, and soon things will be back to normal. Whatever the hell that is.

The phone rings but I make no move to answer it. Carlisle raises his eyebrows and I nod. I don't much care who is on the other end anyway and I certainly don't feel like talking to anyone. Not even Edward and that realization makes me wrap my arms tighter around stomach. God, I'm such a bitch sometimes.

"Bella, it's Phil. He'd like to talk to you," Carlisle says hesitantly, like he's not sure whether or not I'll snap.

I take the phone from him, tentacles of anger and fear wind and slither around inside of me. It's hard to breathe, my skin feels tight, too small for my body and my pulse thunders in my ears. It's been so easy to pretend that Mom will get better if I keep hoping enough, praying hard enough. If I keep talking to her, that somehow, someway she can hear me.

Lies … I've only been lying to myself all this time and I feel lost and confused.

As if I'm having some sort of out-of-body experience, I watch myself take the phone from Carlisle. I lift it to my ear and wait and then listen as Phil begins to speak. I don't catch much of what he says at first, my mind still too scattered to pay attention, but it's when he says, "Bella, honey, we really need to talk about and have a plan in place for when something like this happens again."

Not if … when.

He's already given up; he did a long time ago. And suddenly, I just can't take it anymore. All the pressure, all the bitterness, the guilt, the fear … the anger just bubbles up and up and up until it just explodes in a torrent of words I can't stop, even if I try.

"When? When? Don't you mean if? Oh, wait," I scoff, bile burning my throat, "that's right, you left her and gave up a long time ago. You left me here to watch her die."

I hear him suck in a breath. "Bella … you know I love you both. I know-"

I cut him off, ignoring the shards of hurt and loss that feel like I'm being skinned alive. "You don't know anything! You got her a nurse and hid her away and left me here while you went gallivanting all over the country acting like someone you're supposed to love isn't lying in a bed wasting away a little at a time. You haven't been here to watch her get worse. You aren't here, holding her hand, trying to talk to her, and hoping and praying she can still hear you. You say you love her, but you don't love her, otherwise, you never would have left her side!"

"Bella, everything I've done has been for you. You asked me for more time, you said you weren't ready to let her go yet." His voice wavers. A prickle of panic, because he's right. I didn't just ask, I begged, pleaded with him. "I've tried to help you prepare yourself for this. I knew you weren't ready to face it, so I've been waiting for you," Phil tries to explain, but I'm beyond listening to reason.

I can't. Reason means thinking and I can't do that.

Steeling myself, I go on, using every word to inflict the most amount of pain so I'm not the only one feeling this way. "Do you just pop in every few months so you can see if she's still alive? Is that why you come to Forks? Maybe hoping that she's gone, so you don't have to deal with this anymore – deal with me?" I choke on the hateful words … and with the next, go for the jugular. "My father never would have left me alone to make decisions I would never be ready to make. He loved her and would never have been able to live without her and he surely wouldn't have given up on her like you have.

"Instead, you've left this all up to me. Me! You've made it be about me not being ready, but you've made me watch her wither away. You didn't want to face it, so you made me do it. It was your job to take care of her and watch over her, but you ran away when it got hard!" I storm on, not giving him a chance to get a word in edgewise.

"You left me alone, watching over her, watching her DIE. How could you do this to me, Phil? How can you leave me to make these choices? How am I supposed to be able to decide when enough is enough and tell her goodbye? I can't do it; I don't know how. She's my mom, Phil, my mom." Voice gone now, raw and bleeding.

With tears streaming down my face and unable to catch my breath, I smash the button to cut off the call and throw the phone across the counter. I am so furious, so lost, so confused, I don't even realize I'm not alone.

"Bella," Maggie calls softly, but I can't stand to be around her right now, or anyone else for that matter. I just need to be alone.

I dart out of the house and into my building, the only safe refuge I have at the moment.

A jangle of keys, a wiggle of the doorknob, and then Edward fills the doorway. I fly off the sofa, the blanket pooling around my ankles as we stare at each other. My breath catches in my throat as I see him stand there, so strong, my rock, his eyes bouncing from my face to my hands clenched beside me, all the way down to my toes then back up again.

"Baby," he breathes, sagging in relief and then he holds his arms open.

~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~

DaPK Chapter 17 - Butterflies

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Chapter 17 - Butterflies

BPOV

I shouldn't laugh. I shouldn't laugh. I really, really shouldn't laugh.

I chant this over and over and over in my head as I watch Edward and Phil size each other up, hands glued together, neither one willing to be the first to break eye contact. It's funny - I can't really tell who's more intimidated. It's about fifty/fifty at this point. Phil is the adult so you'd think he'd have the advantage, and certainly the fact that he's a world-famous MLB pitcher doesn't hurt, but he's been just as nervous about meeting Edward as Edward has been about meeting him.

Men.

Of course Phil's never really had to do the whole 'meet the boyfriend' thing. The few dates I went on in Phoenix, Mom was the meeter and greeter since Phil was usually on the road or at practice and there weren't that many dates in the first place. There's certainly never been anyone as important as Edward … nor one who knows so much about everything. I guess that's reason enough for Phil to be a little wary, but he really doesn't need to be. Edward wasn't Phil's biggest fan in the beginning, but as the relationship between me and Phil has gotten better, Edward's opinion of him has changed as well.

Phil, on the other hand, has been rather closed-lipped about Edward. Oh, he seems truly happy that Edward and I are together, but he's kept anything more than just casual questions and comments to himself.

This dinner should be very interesting.

At first I couldn't decide if I should ask Dr. and Mrs. Cullen to dinner as well. I know Phil and Dr. C are acquainted with each other already, so it probably wouldn't be all that weird to have them here, but for this first time, I'd rather it just be Edward with Phil and me. Maggie's been conspicuously scarce since she finished making dinner, making some lame excuse about eating in her room so she could paint her nails. Funny thing that, Mag never paints her nails … like never, ever. I know she's giving Phil and Edward some time to get to know each other, but I suspect that will only last so long.

I can't get over how different I feel about this dinner than the one where I met Edward's parents for the first time. I'm not nervous at all. I've been looking forward to this day for a long time, certainly since Phil's visit in the summer. It doesn't amuse Edward in the least that I just roll my eyes and giggle whenever he goes off on a Phil tangent … he's done a lot of that lately. He goes back and forth between acting like a fan and being protective of me. I think it has more to do with all the other things going on with him than Phil specifically, but looking at the way he's standing, straight as a board, shoulders back and staring Phil directly in the eye, maybe I've been wrong.

Hmmm. That will definitely be a topic of conversation later.

"Well, now, Edward, it's good to meet you, too. Bella's certainly been singing your praises for a while. It's nice to put a face with the name," Phil says breezily, though I can see the corners of his mouth pinch and his eyes narrow ever so slightly as Edward lets go of my hand and wraps an arm around my waist.

It could be because Edward's hands are so big that when he spreads his fingers like he is now, on purpose, I'm quite sure, they almost reach the bottom of my boob. In fact, when Edward pulls me closer and Phil's eyebrows shoot up almost to his hairline, I figure it's time to deflect.

"Okay, Mags has dinner ready, so let's go ahead and eat before we ruin her famous smothered pork chops by letting them get cold." I look from one frozen statue to the other and flick a quick peek to make sure there's not a puddle of drool on the floor beneath their slack jaws.

Nope, but if I wait much longer to get the two of them to the table there will be.

Laughing, I glance at Phil. "What did you think that smell was? You've had Maggie's cooking plenty of times."

He shrugs, looking every bit as calm and casual as he always does in a well-worn pair of jeans and a loose t-shirt. He's tired though, I can tell; he has circles under his eyes and his skin's the color of the ashy gray rain clouds that move in every afternoon. Fall is definitely the rainy season in the Forks. I don't mind the rain, though you'd think I would, considering I spent so many years in the sunny, dry heat of Phoenix. The dreary weather could easily wreak havoc on my psyche, making it easy to dwell and wallow, but my friends would never let me do that.

Neither would Edward.

"Hey, baby, do you want me to get the plates and the glasses?" Edward asks without waiting for an answer.

He bustles around the kitchen going straight toward the correct cabinets that house the dishes. I ignore Phil's silent question, rolling my eyes as I carry the casserole dish to the table. Edward follows with the plates and silverware, while I turn back to get the iced tea and water pitchers out of the fridge. We move seamlessly, like we've eaten countless meals together instead of just a handful. Ever since my birthday, he comes over here for dinner one or two times a week, which thrills Maggie to no end. She gets almost as excited when Rose, Alice, and Angela come over to study - well it's more like gossip - but still, the house feels a lot more like a home than I ever imagined it could four short months ago.

So much has changed, but as the three of us sit, it hits me that not quite everything has changed when there is a starkly empty chair next to Phil.

"So, Edward, tell me a bit about your soccer. Bella tells me you're going to be traveling over the holidays. Where are you headed?" Phil asks as he pours everyone a drink before sitting down.

Edward flashes me a worried look, swallows, sits up straight, then answers Phil. "California. My ODP team is playing in a tournament in San Diego. It's supposed to be one of the biggest tournaments of the year, so I'm really excited about getting to play some new teams and there will be college coaches there from all over the country, too. It kinda sucks that I'll be gone over New Years, but it's not like I can say no." I wait for it … and then, "Oh, shit, I mean, ah … oh, God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it like that."

I hold my hand over my mouth. I try not to giggle, which of course only makes me laugh harder. Phil's grin is a mile wide and poor Edward is the color of a tomato.

"Edward, relax." Phil chuckles and surreptitiously wipes the tears from below his eyes. "I play ball and spend time with a bunch of guys more than two hundred days a year. I think I can handle a 'suck' and a 'shit' without freaking out."

Edward blows out an embarrassed breath and then laughs. "Sorry," he says with a shrug. "This is definitely not how I wanted to make my first impression."

"Seriously, forget about it. I'd rather see you relaxed enough to let loose than be all uptight. Besides this one," Phil winks in my direction, "needs someone who can keep up with her. She's a feisty thing."

I grin at Phil, enjoying so much that he's here. I know it's hard for him, that he still has difficulty balancing the love he still has for Mom with the need to let go and move on, but the fact he's trying so hard and doing so much to be a part of my life gives me hope that sometime soon I'll be ready to let go as well.

I feel closer every day. It's sad and it still causes deep-seated guilt, but life isn't always fair and I truly have too much to live for to wither away. Not only Mom, but my dad, too, would definitely not want that to happen.

Before I'm able to really follow what's going on because I've sort of spaced out, Edward's and Phil's laughter yanks me back. They are talking like old friends and it warms my heart. I love seeing Edward interacting with Phil, teasing and comfortable. It's everything I wanted. The rest of the dinner passes with easy conversation. Phil's eyes positively light up when Edward mentions Emmett and Jasper and they talk about going to the batting cages in Port Angeles together.

"I'm serious, Phil, the first time Emmett sees you, I bet you twenty bucks the dude passes out within three minutes." Edward looks at me, eyes shining. "Isn't that right, Bella? Em's been talking about meeting Phil since this summer."

I nod and smile at Phil. "He's right. Em's pretty excited about meeting you. Jasper, too. It's made me quite popular, so thanks for that."

Phil's eyes widen and he coughs, choking on a laugh and his words. "What? Oh, Bella, I'm sorry," he says and I can tell that he's unsure if I'm angry or not.

Edward looks from me to to Phil, his mouth pinched tight and eyes narrowed, upset.

I wave it all away. It wouldn't be the first time that someone has tried to get close to Phil through me. Anything that happened back in Phoenix is old news, not important, and watching Emmett and Jasper try to outdo each other to see who gets to meet Phil first is more amusing than anything. Besides, I know they're true friends and it's all done in good fun.

"Hey, Edward," Phil gets Edward's attention. "How about me, you, Emmett, and Jasper hit up the batting cages in Port Angeles sometime soon? Your dad, too, if he can sneak away from the hospital for a few hours."

Edward gulps, but nods enthusiastically, his Jolly Rancher green eyes bright and shining. He leans over and kisses my cheek as if I have something to do with Phil's offer. I take a second and glance at Phil, feeling closer to him than I ever have before. The complete acceptance of the friends and the life I've begun to live here means more than I realized.

"Wow, Phil. That sounds great." Edward beams. "We should go soon, like this weekend. We don't have to go to Seattle for games and I'm pretty sure Dad's off, too."

I listen as they make plans, smiling at how excited they both sound. Every few seconds there's a hand on my knee, or a twirl of my hair around his fingers. Casual, comfortable actions that speak louder than words ever can and when I see a soft, though a bit sad, smile on Phil's face, I know he sees how important Edward is to me and how much I love him.

God, I love him. So much.

Seeing Edward happy and relaxed after the tension of the past few weeks is so nice. I know he's still worried about the things he needs to decide on, and what the right decision is, but we've talked about it a lot; he's talked to Emmett and Jasper, his parents, and I know he'll figure it all out. I watch with an amused smile as Edward describes his last game to Phil, arms waving around and talking a mile a minute like he always does when he gets passionate about something. He talks with his whole body, hands and eyes and heart - sometimes even his legs depending on the topic. I love watching him.

I giggle a little at the thought … and the irony.

Edward snaps his head in my direction and I roll my eyes at myself and get up to begin clearing the table.

"Do you need any help?" Edward asks, standing to do just that.

Phil waits for me to shake my head no and then asks, "Edward, why don't we go get some air before we have dessert?"

I have to smile. I mean, could the man be any more obvious? And funny, the thought of Phil giving Edward the "what are your intentions with my daughter" speech only makes me love him more.

Edward quickly looks at me, surprise and worry fighting for the dominant emotion.

"It'll be fine," I tell him and walk forward to brush a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Bella," he whines and I have to bite my tongue to stop from laughing. He's worried for nothing; he knows this, I know this, even Phil knows this, but it's one of those things that just has to happen.

"Go." I shoo him. "There will be chocolate cake waiting when you come back inside."

"Fine. But I want an extra scoop of ice cream and a glass of chocolate milk, not plain milk if I have to do this," he bargains, like he's about to be sent off to war or something instead of spending a few minutes alone with a man that obviously likes him enough to make plans to take him to the batting cages for the day.

"Just go, you big baby. It's your turn with the parents now. Not so much fun when the shoe's on the other foot, is it?"

I try to keep a straight face, but fail miserably when he smirks at me. "Yeah, like Mom and Dad are real scary."

I watch him turn and walk out the side door. Maggie pokes her head in, a smug grin spread across her face.

"It's safe to come out now, you big meanie, you," I tell her as I get the milk out of the fridge.

"Well, I have to say I would have loved to watch our boy squirm while Phil gave him the third degree, but I figured Edward would have enough to deal with without me adding to it. How'd it go?" she asks as she cuts the cake and sets the pieces on the plates.

I sigh and give her a warm smile. "It was fine, much better than I thought it would be actually."

She scoffs and shakes her head. "I don't know why you were so worried. Anyone with eyes can see how much Edward loves you and how happy he makes you. That's all Phil wants."

"I know," I say quietly. "Having them both here, and you, the house feels so different, don't you think? Like home."

Maggie's hand covers mine and she squeezes it. "I can't tell you how happy it makes me to see you smile like that, to hear you sound so content. Your mom would be so proud of you."

I nod, choking back tears that burn in the corners of my eyes. "I know," I hoarsely whisper.

Phil and Edward aren't gone long, only about twenty minutes, but when they walk back in the door, both smiling and looking relaxed, I know everything is just fine.

Maggie joins us for dessert, and by the time we're done I'm not sure Edward will ever come back to eat with us again. Poor guy. It's a good thing he can take as good as he dishes out because not many would be able to withstand a Maggie/Phil tag team.

"I better get going," Edward says as he stands up. It's late, almost ten o'clock though it really doesn't feel like he's been here for almost four hours. He kisses Maggie on the cheek, making her blush, and he shakes Phil's hand. There's a look that passes between them, one of respect and a common ground, which I suppose is me. Whatever it is, it makes me warm inside and want to kiss Edward until he can't breathe.

He must have the same idea because as soon as we step outside, he drags me to his car and presses me up against it, his whole body against mine. He's hard, everywhere, and his mouth is on mine, his tongue pushing into my mouth. He tastes sweet, like chocolate and sugar, and I groan as he holds me still and grinds his hips against mine.

"Holy shit, I've been dying to do that for hours." He pants, trying to catch his breath. His twists my hair around his fingers and his teeth scrape up and down the side of my neck. He sucks on the spot below my ear and I turn my head, wanting more.

His tongue circles the spot and when the cool night air reaches the wet trail, I shiver. Edward wraps me in his arms and rubs his hands up and down my arms.

"I like Phil," he whispers into my ear. I squeeze him tighter, trying to get closer, because while I knew that just from watching them, hearing the words is so much better.

"That makes me happy."

He nods against my shoulder, then his mouth is on my neck again. Warm breath, then the sting of his teeth. "He loves you, baby. So much. I know that I didn't understand everything in the beginning, how he could leave you here, but I get it now."

"You guys were outside a long time …" I hint, hoping he'll spill the details.

When his mouth covers mine and his tongue sweeps across my bottom lip, I give up the fight. I'd rather kiss him than talk anyway. We spend a hot ten minutes saying goodbye before he finally kisses the tip of my nose and gets into his car. We do have school in the morning, so I know he needs to leave.

"Love you," he says as before he shuts the door. "I'll call you when I get home."

I laugh and roll my eyes at the two of us … he'll be home in less than fifteen minutes, but I nod because I want him to call no matter how ridiculous it is. "Love you, too. Thanks for coming tonight. It meant a lot."

He winks before he turns the car on. "You ask, I'll come. Always. Now get your hot little ass inside, it's cold out here."

I watch him pull away and stand there in the dark once he's gone. A cold breeze makes me wrap my arms around myself and I squeak, startled when Phil's arm is draped across my shoulder. He pulls me close and I lay my head on his shoulder. A few minutes pass, minutes where no words are spoken, but none need to be said. Finally he kisses the top of my head and whispers, "You're gonna be fine, sweetheart. Just fine."

~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~~

A few weeks later …

Needing a change of scenery or maybe just a new perspective, I grab my favorite blanket off the end of my bed, my fluffy, silly pen, Edward's notebook, and shuffle toward the living room. Maggie's already turned in for the night, Phil's in Seattle, so the house is as quiet as the inside of a church. The refrigerator hums, the pendulum on the grandfather clock tucked in the corner swishes, chiming every fifteen minutes of the hour. The icy wind rattles through the bare branches outside, the gusts making the trees sway and bend, but inside there's no other sound. I look out the window toward the woods and shiver, pulling the blanket tighter around me. Clouds drift across the silvery white moon and the shadows are almost ominous as they creep along the ground like spindly fingers. Halloween was weeks ago, but all the weather outside needs is spooky music and a haunted house and it'd be the perfect backdrop for a horror movie. I shiver again and move from the window, my thoughts ridiculous, but no less the stuff guaranteed to keep me up all night. I so don't need that tonight.

The hairs on the back of my neck settle as I turn toward the couch. The scent of the pumpkin spice candle that was lit earlier still lingers in the air. There are bowls of fall-scented potpourri - cinnamon, apple, and spices - scattered here and there … Maggie's a big fan of the stuff. A basket of deep red apples sits on the island in the kitchen. Firewood is stacked in a neat bundle beside the fireplace. No matter how frigid it is outside, inside it's warm and safe, comforting, even if it is late at night.

Normally I'd go outside and play my drums, but I'm not in the mood. Not in the mood to dance or read either. I could call Edward, but he's got a big test in Pre-Calc tomorrow and he's been so stressed about it, it's a wonder the guy has any hair left with the way he's been abusing it lately. I glance toward the hallway and Mom's room beyond, but for some reason, one that I don't particularly want to examine at the moment, I don't want to go in there either.

Sighing, I curl up in the corner of the sofa, bringing my knees up below my chin. I glance at my feet - I really need to repaint my toenails, they're looking a little worse for wear. I wrap my arms around my legs and rest my forehead on my knees, feeling just … out of sorts. There's nothing really wrong, nothing that I can put a finger on anyway, but I just can't turn my mind off.

The last few weeks have been chock-full of all kinds of things, but nothing out of the ordinary. Just life. Edward meeting Phil, getting used to having Phil around more, though he still comes and goes pretty regularly due to his post-season MLB obligations now that the season's over. Promotion stuff, meetings with his agent, appearances - the list is enough to make my head swim. I know he's getting close to being done with baseball for good. He's mentioned it in passing a few times and it makes me wonder how exactly things will be when the time comes.

I wrap my arms tighter around my legs at the thought of the future. So much to think about. Edward and I have done a lot of talking about what's going to happen after graduation. It was kind of necessary after his freak out a few weeks before. It was bound to happen sooner or later, and quite honestly, I'm surprised it took that long. I don't blame him for feeling overwhelmed; there's a lot to think about, but every time we talk about it, he seems a little calmer, a little surer of what he wants. I feel better about what might happen after graduation. I know he does, too. Knowing that we'll be together, wherever it will be, makes all the difference in the world.

I'm terrified of leaving Forks … of leaving Mom, but these last few months have taught me that I can't stop living my life just because there has been no change in Mom's condition. Going through life with one foot planted in the past and the other unable to step forward is no way to live. I've learned that.

And, my life is pretty great right now. Good friends who make me laugh and make me feel like I've known them forever instead of just a few months, an amazing boyfriend who I love more than life itself, Maggie and Phil … I have plenty in my life to be be happy about. My necklace dangles and automatically I reach for it, sliding the pendant back and forth along the chain. Butterflies flutter in my stomach as I remember that night and I pick up my notebook to read my letter to Edward.

Hey, Creeper,

I walked by a mirror today, you know the one in the entryway, and the light was shining just so and it caught the reflection off my necklace. I've only had it a few days now and I still can't get used to seeing it on my neck every day. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's so beautiful and I love it so much, but you gave me your heart, Edward. It's just … I can't even put it into words.

You're so much better at this than me, at using words to express yourself, which is totally unfair I'll have you know. You're a better musician than me and a better athlete, you beat me every time we play Call of Duty, and you never get stuck being partners with Heidi in Spanish so you'd think that the universe would somehow give me just one thing I'm better at than you, but no.

Not that I don't love your words, because God knows I do. Written or spoken, whispered or even in a text they always make me do this thing where my breath catches in my throat and it's kind of hard to swallow for a few moments or minutes or maybe even hours. My stomach feels like there are a thousand butterflies flapping their wings, trying to get out, and normally when you whisper in my ear, especially in Spanish class, I get hot all over, but get goosebumps at the same time. I know that's no big secret since I hear you laugh at me every day.

Not even gonna lie, I kinda hate that I can't ever hide what you do to me.

Ugh, I can't believe I'm telling you this … well I guess I can since I tell you everything, but it's not like you need any more reason to keep me constantly turned on. It's embarrassing really, like really really. You should hear the things the other girls ask me in the locker room and for God's sake do not ever, never, ever, EVER tell me what you guys talk about in your locker room. I swear if you do, I'll never make you another sugar cookie … ever again! Just thinking about it makes me wanna throw up. Mike, Alec, and Eric all talking - God, that's wrong on so many levels!

And none of this is what I wanted to say! Why is it that when I sit down to start writing I go off on these ridiculous tangents? I think you put some kind of voodoo spell on our notebooks to make me spill my guts to you. That's it, right? On top of being the most perfect boyfriend ever, now I find out you also possess magical abilities … next thing I know you'll be able to wave your finger around and go 'presto strippo' and my clothes will just simply disappear. You know you'd so do it if you could!

What this whole rambling, nonsensical mess is supposed to be telling you is that my birthday was beyond amazing, beyond anything I could have ever planned or thought of, and beyond perfect … (and don't let this go to your head!) just like you. Even days later, and I can still feel what it was like to play with you, to hear you, to share those moments with you. I remember the way you sounded, the way we sounded together, and the way it felt when you played and sang just for me. I wish I could bottle the whole day up and somehow be able to plunge myself right back into the most incredible experience of my whole life.

I love you, Edward. Today, tomorrow … always!

Yours,

DG

I sigh and smile. The night was one I'll never forget. I read through a few more entries, just needing to feel connected to Edward. As I skim over our words to each other it's like I can literally feel us getting closer, learning, growing, becoming better people because of what we give to each other. The future's still uncertain, but I know with all my heart that Edward and I will always be together.

How can I worry too much when I have him?

~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~

Halloween and Thanksgiving come and go and finally Edward and I have some time to ourselves. Wrapped in a blanket that helps fight the just-above-freezing temperatures outside our building, we cuddle on the loveseat. We could be inside the house, if we were sane, that's no doubt where we should be, but he wanted me to play for him, and of course I can't tell him no. There are a few space heaters cutting the chill of the air, but we still need to wear long sleeves and jeans, socks, too, but it's not too bad. Not that being close to Edward is ever bad.

"I've missed being out here with you," Edward whispers as he tightens his arms around me.

I roll over and hold his face in my hands, covering his mouth with mine. I nibble on his bottom lip, let my tongue sweep across the roof of his mouth before I massage his tongue with mine. I snap my hips toward his and he groans into my mouth. Without breaking apart, I nudge and move until we're sitting up and I'm straddling his thighs.

"Bella?" Edward asks, panting for breath. I don't let him catch it, instead, I plunge my tongue back in his mouth.

His hands are so warm as he slides them up my back, the cold late November air against my exposed skin makes me shiver … though it could be because he's so hard beneath me. I test my theory, rolling my hips forward and smile against his lips when he hisses. God, I love that. Making him crazy, seeing that wild, needy look in his eyes.

Such a turn-on.

Trailing my lips from his mouth to his neck, I press even closer. Arms around his neck, our chests tight against the other, his hand firmly on my ass moving me just like he likes it. It's a complete toss-up whether I like straddling like I am now or when he's on top of me better. Both have their advantages, but since I'm where I am at the moment, I make the best of it.

My hand slips between us and I watch his eyes roll when I grip him firmly in my hand.

"Fuck, oh Christ, that feels good, baby." The words are choppy, clipped and it spurs me on. Rubbing him through the denim I can feel him twitch beneath my fingers. I move to unbutton his jeans but he stills my hand with his.

"Wait, ah hell," he stutters because I don't listen and stretch my fingers so that the very tips graze his hard cock. He clenches his jaw and inhales deeply.

"You really want me to wait?" I question with an arched eyebrow and sexy smirk on my face.

"Fuck. Yes," he tries to say but then my thumb swipes through the bead of liquid seeping from the tip of his cock and he sucks in a breath between his teeth. His nostrils flare and his eyes darken until they're almost black.

"Edward?" I ask again as I curl my fingers around him.

"No, oh Christ, fuck no. Don't stop. Please don't stop."

I latch my mouth to his neck, flicking my tongue over the pulse that's flying beneath his skin. Then down lower, to the top of his shoulder and then to the hollow beneath his throat. I want him naked … want to be naked with him, but it's too cold out here for that. So instead, I shove my hand fully down his boxers, and use the moisture that's leaking to help my fingers move smoothly up and down.

He bucks his hips against me, and oh God, it feels so good. My free hand slips beneath his loose shirt and my fingers walk up his chest, then drag a fingernail across his nipple.

"Oh God." He moans. His head's thrown onto the back of the loveseat. His fingers are digging into my hips, holding me in place, like he never wants me to move. But I have every intention of moving. I slide off his lap, and kneel between his legs.

His jeans flipped open, I order, "Lift."

He snaps his head up, and I can tell the instant he realizes why. "Bella," my name falls from his mouth in a mixture of want and need and probably a little guilt because it's cold and I'm on my knees in front of him.

"Shhh," I tell him and then tug his jeans and his boxers down his legs. It's not the first time I've seen him this way, we've done pretty much everything sexually we can do besides the act itself, but I've only gone down on him a few times. I lick my lips and I hear this half groan half growl rumble deep in his chest.

I wrap my fingers around his shaft and lean forward, flattening my tongue so I can make one long lift from the base of his cock all the way to the tip. My other hand lays on his hip and I have to push to keep him still.

"Jesus Christ," Edward breathes as I take him into my mouth.

He's so hard and so big, and I'm still not used to moving and breathing, but it doesn't take long to find a rhythm that makes him whimper and still allows me to not gag myself. His hands fist in my hair and it feels so good when he pulls on it. His hips circle and my tongue does the same as it moves up and down. I suck harder and swirl my tongue with each movement.

He's panting and grunting and it's so hot. So, so hot to hear him lose control. A stream of naughty words, words that make me wet and tingly and have to rub my legs together, are uttered in between gasping breaths.

"Baby, holy hell, keep doing that," he begs when I hum around him.

"Is this okay?" he asks, his words stuttered and clipped. His hands are on the back of my head and he's thrusting into my mouth and although my jaw's starting to get sore and my lips numb, there's no way in hell I'm telling him no.

I look up at him, and nod, still keeping as much of him in my mouth as I can take. "Oh my fucking God, you look so hot like that. Jesus."

His eyes are wild, his cheeks flushed, and I love seeing him right on the brink of letting go. The muscles of his thighs flex and tighten and his shirt's been pushed up just enough so that I can see the trail of hair beneath his belly button. His entire body's wound tight and I can feel that he's aching to explode. His cock throbs in my mouth and he's so close to coming.

"Fuck, fuck … fuuuuck." He groans and writhes and then he stops moving. With one last hum and swirl of my tongue, he's gone, muttering, "Oh, God," and "yes, yes" over and over again. I keep my mouth on him until he's done. He doesn't move, just lays there breathing in and out, and I grab a tissue and wipe my mouth.

I love everything about Edward, but so not that.

I sit up higher and wipe him off, too, then tuck him back into his jeans. He pulls me up on his lap and he looks so sleepy, but very, very happy.

"God damn, baby, that was incredible," he says after he kisses me to show me just how grateful he is. "I love you so fucking much."

I curl up on his lap and we sit that way for a little while, not really talking much but doing plenty of kissing and touching.

"Hey, I need to ask you something," he tells me, sweeping my hair back from my face. "I started to ask you this earlier, but well, you know." He grins.

"What?"

He moves us so that I'm pressed against the back of the loveseat and he's facing me. Our legs are tangled, and he pulls the blanket tightly around us so that we're in our own little Edward/Bella bubble. I don't ever want to move. He smells so good, spicy, a little sweaty, and just all Edward. I nuzzle into the side of his neck and can't resist flicking my tongue against his skin and having a little taste.

"You are gonna kill me one of these days," he warns.

I smile against his neck.

"Fine, if you really want me to stop." I sigh dramatically.

He pulls back and looks directly into my eyes. "No, but what I really want to do is roll you over, rip your clothes off, and fuck you until the sun comes up, but I'm afraid we'll freeze to death before morning."

"Edward," I say and it sounds way more like an invitation than it's supposed to.

"I want you, Bella. So much. All the fucking time, you know? It drives me crazy." He groans and this time it's him that presses his nose against my shoulder. "Mom and Dad are going out of town in two weeks. They're spending the weekend in Seattle. Spend it with me?" I gasp and immediately my stomach is fluttering because holy hell … two whole days with Edward? He keeps going, like I need convincing. "I wanna know what it's like to have you in my bed, wake up next to you. It'll be just me and you. We can tell everyone we're going with them, whatever, I don't care. I just want you, no interruptions, no one bothering us, just me and you for two days. Please say yes."

I don't even have to think. "Yes."

"No shit? Just like that?" he asks.

I giggle a little bit and pull him closer to me. "Of course just like that. What? You don't think I want you, want to be with you, just as much? I want it, Edward. All of it, all of you."

"Jesus." He sighs, and then his mouth is on mine. We kiss for a few minutes, a promise of what's to come. "I can't wait to make to love to you, but it's not just that. You know that right?" I nod and he smiles, slow and sexy. "Granted, I can't fucking wait for it, but I really can't wait to fall asleep with you next to me and know you're going to be there when I wake up."

"I think about that all the time; what it'll be like after graduation and we can be together all the time."

He squeezes his arms around me and rests his chin on top of my head. "We're going to have the best life, Bella. I promise."

"I know," because there's nothing I've ever been more sure of than that.

~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~~