Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer.

Craptacular week, topped off with losing power this weekend due to crazy, wicked storms in Chicago, blew out my wireless router, so Steve Jobs now has $200+ of my hard earned dollars in his pocket and I have a new Airport Extreme.

My apologies in advance for past and I am certain, present grammatical / spelling errors. For this story, the italicized portions are flashbacks, everything else would be current time, if you're confused it should be clear by the end of the chapter. Also, I spent 12 years in Catholic school, I only had three male teachers, one was gay, two were married and none were younger than 45.


Chapter Two

After we had eaten our breakfast and smoked a little weed to try and trick the effects of the E and get some sleep, we went back to my room to have sex again.

This time it was less frenzied, and less desperate. I had kissed the rise of her breasts, she had left a hickey on my shoulder. I had entered her with my fingers, watching her as they hit that special spot, the spot where she said no one had ever hit before, I watched as it unraveled her, listened to the sound fall from her mouth and lips as she climaxed. When her eyes focused on my smile she buried her face into the side of her arm, suddenly shy, I took her face in my hands and dropped little kisses across her delicate visage.

We had slept until four in the afternoon, both awakening feeling flat and restless and without drive; Bee said she was feeling sixes and sevens. I couldn't have agreed more.

She had gone into the kitchen and come out to join me in the living room, I was sitting, leaning against the arm of the couch with my knees propped up, looking out the window at the blue of the sky. Bee came back in and sat, straddling me, leaning against my bent knees. She reached into the bowl and ate a piece of sliced strawberry. She reached in again and took another slice out and placed it in her mouth. I watched transfixed. Her tongue came out and she dragged it across licking up the corner before pulling back into her mouth. Then she laughed.

"Seriously, what are you, like a 12 year old boy?"

"You're sitting here after a night of some serious fucking, wearing my t-shirt and boxers eating a bowl of strawberries, why don't you just get a can of whipped cream and build yourself a bikini, too?" She looked at me all innocent eyed. "And don't act all coy, either."

She raised her knees and I heard a loud pop.

"Cripes, what was that?" I asked her.

"It's my leg," is all she answers.

"What's wrong with it?"

"I broke it a few years ago."

"Your leg, what like, the whole thing?" I ask as my hand travels up her calf, to her knee and then along the back of her thigh.

She sighs and I pull my hand away.

"I shouldn't have asked," I said.

"No, you shouldn't have, but I broke my femur, tibia and fibula," she tells me, her eyes are closed. I didn't intend to make her uncomfortable, I reach to rub her thigh.

"That's a lot of bad shit," I state stupidly.

She smiles, "Yeah, it was. It was fucked up for so long it's taken forever to rebuild any type of strength. I try to go running every day to keep muscle tone. My leg is a little shorter too."

I lean over and kiss her knee and turn back and look at her, the lighting is even in the room, the sun having moved to the west.

She resumes eating her fruit. She leans forward and feeds me some strawberries. She pulls her head back and fixes me with her gaze.

"Has anyone ever told you your eyes are the color of the Chicago River on St. Patrick's Day?" she asks.

I laugh, "Nope, I'd have to say, you're the first," I give her a smirk.

"Yeah, well, they do."

"I know you won't be able to quit me, Edward because I won't be able to quit you. Regardless of how much you think you want to, I know you don't. You're just like me, you need this. I don't know why this is, maybe we're like a drug to one another, maybe the high fills all of the need and want we have in our life. And I so wish this wasn't the case, because I don't want to live my life like this, live my life one day at a time so I can get over you. But since this is what you want, I will respect it, it's the only thing I can do."

(back to earlier in the day, Senior AP English)

I look at Bee for what seems like eternities, she simply stares back at me, although she is absently sucking on the cap of her pen. Finally I draw my eyes away from hers, hoping like hell none of the other students noticed the nonverbal exchange.

With everything in my being I continue the task at hand of taking attendance.

"And, Angela Weber," I call, finally reaching the end.

"Here."

"Alright, ladies, please take a syllabus and pass it back and look it over, if you'll excuse me for a moment, I left some papers we'll need for this class, I'll be right back."

I nearly sprint out the door. What the fuck is Bee doing sitting in my classroom? I go to the teacher's lounge which is thankfully empty and I step into the restroom. I take my phone out of my pocket and start to text Bee, fuck, I can't do that. Fuck it, I have to do it.

-we need 2 talk

I hit send, I know I should have waited but I'm at a loss. Fuck, I just saw her last night, I did more than just see her.

Fuck.

Less than eight hours into my new job and I have already fucked a student, done drugs with said student, and ditched a class to hide in a bathroom. I stay in the bathroom a moment waiting for a reply, I receive none.

When I exit the restroom I run into Sr. Cope.

"Edward, shouldn't you be in a class at the moment?"

I've known Sr. Cope since I was a kid, Sr. Shelly, she's not someone I want to let down and I feel like a miscreant when I lie to her.

"My apologies, Sister, I had some first day nerves, I'm returning there right now." She takes my hand between hers and gives it a pat. Shit, if I wasn't on an oil slicked slide to the bowels of hell before, there was now an engraved invitation inviting me down.

"You'll be fine, dear, I have faith in you." With that she turned and walked towards the convent. Well, just kick my ass down and line my pockets with explosives.

I grab a stack of paperbacks, not even glancing at what I have in my hands and make my way back to the classroom. My phone has not vibrated with a response from Bee. When I enter the room the girls turn back around in their seats and watch as I dole out copies of the books I carried in with me.

"Ladies, please take a copy for our first reading assignment," I pause to glance at what book I had grabbed, crap, out of the corner of my eye I see a hand raise. I return to my podium to look at my seating plan, like I would for any other student.

"Miss Swan, you have a question?"

"Mr. Masen," she nearly sneers, the distaste barely hidden, "I believe most of us read The Scarlet Letter sophomore year, unless of course there was a reason you wanted us to reread it?" The last part practically spat out.

I look towards her, careful not to show my own ire and hoping like hell none of the other students caught the fire in Bee's tone.

"Yes, of course, thank you for bringing that to my attention, Isabella," I have to stop myself from sneering her name. "Well, then ladies, let's stay on point with the curriculum I have planned. Are there any questions?"

Class proceeds excruciatingly slowly, I'm asked what's expected from students over the course of the year, how I grade, if I had office hours available; I can only hope my eyes do not dart back to Bee – Bella, while I search her face for answers, searching hers for reassurance that my life and my family's life has not just gone down the rabbit hole of shit.

Finally the bell signals the end of classes for the day, either that or for the end of Round One. I stand there as I watch the women exit the room, Bee leaves with some of her classmates without paying me a moment's notice. I am in the process of gathering my belongings when Bee reenters the room. She goes to her desk to grab a pen and walks out but not before tossing a piece of paper nonchalantly on my desk. She does not utter a word or even look in my direction. I wait until the dismissal bell has rung before I unfurl the proffered note.

-I'll be over at 9:30.

I beat feet out of there. I had been asked to an after school tea held in the teacher's lounge, but I blow through the front doors and steer myself home. I tap out an email from my Blackberry to Sr. Cope with my apologies for not attending the tea, hoping that my earlier transgression is chalked up to being overwhelmed.

When I let myself into my apartment I have nearly pulled and rubbed the hair away from my head. I am beside myself with rage, fury, fear, discomfort and surprisingly, an ache of empty dwelling in my chest. I push all of this crap down and go to change and head down to the building's pool.

I launch myself into a butterfly stroke. I am relentless in my assault of the water, my chest driving my hips and legs further, my arms raising and lowering to propel me through the water. I lose count of the number of laps I swim, it doesn't matter. The exertion has not cleared my head and I wonder why the fuck I told her I needed to see her. So I can add more time on to my impending jail sentence?

I know nothing about this girl. And while I am tempted to berate myself of this fact, I have the wherewithal to stay focused and try to look at the circumstances with some rationality.

She was the one who approached me at the party and asked to leave with me. She did not turn me down when I gave her an opportunity to do so before entering my home. She was just as much a participant in this as I was; there was no duplicity on my end.

In the end does this matter? No.

What will come to light is a young teacher had an affair with a student. No one will examine the timeline and course of events. In the eye of public opinion I am the one who took advantage of the situation, leading a young woman, who, again, in public opinion, didn't know any better, into an inappropriate relationship. We didn't even call it a relationship. Fuck. It doesn't matter, any way it's looked at I will be disgusting and evil, a monster. At the age of 23, I will have to face the consequences of my actions, no matter how they came about, for the rest of my life.

Then the thought hits me, if I am convicted of sex crime I will forever have to register as a sex offender. My family will know this, my neighbors will know this. I will cost my adoptive family's generations of good standing in the community. I will cost my neighbors resale value and a good address. I will shame the memory of my parents. Nothing good can come out of this situation.

I stop swimming, my stroke becoming sloppy and tiring. I get out of the pool and return to my apartment.

I look at my watch sitting on the countertop and see it's close to 6:00. I should take a nap but know it will do nothing to stop my thoughts from racing. I'm not hungry, only an acidic pit is stirring in my stomach. Fuck.

Before I reach for a bottle of whiskey I stop myself. I walk into my room and change into some running clothes, tying up my shoes and head out to the lakefront path and take off. I run to 57th Street not seeing or feeling anything, forcing my mind to remain only focused on my footfalls. Once I reach my destination I turn immediately around and start to run the nearly six miles back.

"Bee, what's your real name?" I ask.

"What kind of question is that?" She's panting slightly as we run past Columbia Yacht club.

"I don't know, I've never met anyone with just the name, Bee, before."

"I've never met an Edward before. At least not someone who hasn't fought in World War II," she teases.

"Are you saying I'm old fashioned?" I tease back, turning and looking at her reddening cheeks.

"Not in the least, I don't know too many WWII vets who know half of the moves you have."

The little minx.

"And you've had your way with a lot of Vets?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," she looks at me and winks.

Minx. Minx. Minx.

"Come on, I'll race ya," and she takes off running toward Buckingham Fountain. It's sort of funny, her leg is all sorts of fucked up, I can tell when her foot falls become heavy that she's in pain and tiring. I normally try to get her just to slow down and walk the rest of the way, but she' s just stubborn, you tell her she should do something and she ignores the suggestion. It's difficult to decide if this pisses me off or if I find it cute. And I want to be embarrassed that I just referred to the girl I'm sleeping with as cute. Maybe I'm just not able to admit that there's something else there.

As I approach the tunnel to let me cross the Drive back to my building I reflect on that memory from this summer. Looking back it was so obvious how she deflected anything that was too probing; she was blatantly lying to me the entire time we spent together. I again start to berate myself for my stupidity but stop once I enter back into my apartment. This time I reach for the whiskey. I pour a nice highball with just a few ice cubes in it. I really want to pack a bowl but figure I can function better with only liquor dulling my senses.

In too short a time, I have downed my glass and return to the kitchen to find some real sustenance, as much as I would like to drink myself into a stupor I know the physical exertions of the past few hours have taken their toll plus, regardless how little I want to do it, I have to return to work tomorrow.

After some leftovers Esme sent home with me the other night, I go to clean up.

While standing under the showerhead I hope the water washes away my immoral deeds, but I hope in vain. I exit the shower with only my skin being clean and get dressed putting on a pair of shorts and a Big Chief Badlands t-shirt. I go to the bar refilling my whiskey and return to the living room to sit and wait for Bee's arrival. I don't bother to turn on any lights, the glow from the city being my only illumination.

A few minutes later my intercom rings, fuck she's early. I'm not ready to face this.

"Edward, why aren't you down here?" demands Alice. Crap, I was supposed to go out with her and Jasper tonight.

"Hey, Al, I'm sorry, I forgot, but I have to take a pass tonight, long day," I know I'm rude not inviting them up. And then I briefly consider going out with them and not facing Bee.

"Pull the panties out of your ass crack, we're coming up." I can just picture her stomping her bitty foot down in tiny little anger.

I sigh, "Just for a minute Alice, I'm serious, I have some shit to take care of and I'm not in the mood for company," I think she's already hung up before I finish my statement.

When there's a knock at the door I open it to see Alice and Jasper standing there with a giant basket filled with pens, pencils, notebooks, fruit roll ups and a bottle of whiskey with some Baccarat high ball glasses. Any other day I would have found the irony humorous, but today just makes me feel like a dirty deviant.

"Here, Esme sent this over for you, she said she hopes the pattern is the same as your barware to replace the ones Carlisle broke," Alice explains referencing the glasses. Jasper hands me the basket. I take it, continuing to stand in the entrance, trying to block their entry. I surreptitiously glance at my watch and see that it's ten minutes past nine.

"Thanks Ali, and I'll give Esme a call too," I go to give her a kiss on her cheek but she jerks away and takes a step back to look at me.

"Well," Alice huffs out.

"What?" I say like I'm thick like a $5 watch.

"What's with you, why won't you invite us in?"

I sigh again, "Yeah, come on in, I was just about to go to sleep though."

"You can't hang for a few minutes?" Alice pushes in.

"Hey man," Jasper says, briefly putting his hand on my shoulder.

"What's with her?" I ask so only Jasper can hear.

"I don't know, she's got some bee in her bonnet about seeing you tonight, she said you need to see us."

I flinch at the word, bee. Of course, Alice thinks she preternaturally in tune with the happenings of my life. While this may be the case I can't have it interfering with what's scheduled for 9:30 tonight.

"Edward, I just want to make sure you're okay. I have a bad feeling, no, that's not it exactly, I just have a feeling something's up with you. I mean we barely saw you this summer, and now you have some job that none of us believe you took, I just want to see what's up with you."

I walk over and take Alice's hand and walk her into the living room.

"Listen, Ali, you know Esme wanted me to do this, I couldn't let her down."

"I know, but this is my gap year, we were going to make fun of Jasper for still being in school and we were going to hang out and go to museums and amusement parks, visit two million bats in Texas, steal a Bob's Big Boy statue thing, tour a mustard factory. We were going to celebrate the last of our youth together," Alice laments about the past several years worth of planning, granted, mostly while we were high, but still, it was a vague idea of ours.

I laugh, "Alice, you know we don't have gap years here. Besides, you still have another year of school to finish."

"Yeah, I know," she's getting huffy, her tone changing, "but the fact of the matter is, you were going to be with me this year. And now you're not," Alice's whine is back.

I look to Jasper who is sitting there looking out the window, my thought is he's stoned, or at a loss what to do for Alice. Apparently I am wrong, though.

"Listen, sweetheart, we can still have fun," Jasper says, "you can still make fun of me for my sixth year of college, we know Papa Whitlock has a permanent sneer attached to his face because of it," Alice wipes her eyes and lets out a little chuckle, I hadn't realized she was crying. She leaves my side and crawls into Jasper's lap. "And doll, we can go to Texas to see those bats and drive downstate for the mustard factory. Now, I don't know about the Bob's Big Boy Heist, that might take us wrangling Prof Cullen over here as an accomplice," Jasper hitches his thumb in my direction, rubbing up and down Alice's back with his other hand, "but we'll have lots of fun this year."

I feel inadequate next to Jasper when it comes to Alice. She always flies too far out and he continually reels her back in. Jasper whispers something in her ear that I cannot hear and a few moments later they get up, he looks at me a gives me a single head nod. We exit my home and walk toward the elevator together.

The elevator dings and out walks Bee, she's dressed simply but has a baseball cap pulled down, I guess trying to hide her face, but anyone who knows her would recognize the flowing brown silkiness all around her shoulders. She doesn't stop or even acknowledge me and walks down the hallway in the opposite direction of my place. My heart feels like it's going to pound through my chest. Jasper looks at me briefly.

"Ali, we'll go to a matinee on Saturday, your choice, my treat," I bend over to give her a kiss on her temple.

"Okay, but let's call Esme too, she'll want to hear all about your first week of school for lost causes," Alice jokes.

"And somehow, they list you as a proud graduate."

Alice gives my face a teasing slap then wraps her arms around my waist; I don't know where this concern is coming from. If they only knew what was going on they would want to pitch me off of the 67th floor.

"Alright, Edward, I'll see you this weekend. I love you."

"I love you too, Alice," and she turns and gets on the elevator. Jasper gives me another head nod and I watch as the doors close.

I walk to my door and enter, leaning against it, waiting for Bee to come knocking.

I hear a small, single rap against the door, I use my shoulders to push away from it, I don't want to do this, and don't know why I requested to see her. I open it and step back for her to enter.

We walk toward the living room, I'm having a difficult time trying to marshal my thoughts, I don't know where to begin.

"Please, sit," I say stiffly, gesturing for her to sit on the couch. I turn on a small table lamp and go and sit in the chair nearby.

"Is this how it's going to be, like I'm talking to you about my latest essay?" Bee says quietly, looking out the windows, not meeting my gaze.

"Why did you lie to me?" I ask without emotion.

She turns to look at me, even in the softly lit room I feel her trenchant eyes, she returns to stare out at the night.

She sighs, "What could I do? I thought this was just a one night thing, I didn't expect it to be all summer, and by the time I realized I should tell you, it was too late," she looks at me again. "It was too late and I didn't want to lose you," she whispers.

"I told you my name when we first met, why didn't you stop at that point?" I ask.

Bee sighs, "I don't know, Chicago's a big city, maybe, I thought, Cullen was a common name. As I understand it, out of the past four mayors in this city two have had the same name."

I let out a humorless laugh, I don't know if she's trying to make a joke or not.

"I just figured you couldn't be related in any way, I mean, what are the chances?" she asks rhetorically.

"Apparently one to one," I reply snidely.

"Apparently."

"It still doesn't change the fact that you've put me in a horrible situation. If I'm convicted, I become a sex offender, I've ruined my family's life, my own life, shamed St. Jude's, the list goes on and on."

"I'm not underage, if that's what you're worried about," she says.

"What do you mean, you're not underage, you're a senior in high school," I state the obvious.

"My birthday's in a couple of weeks, I'll be turning 19."

"Nineteen?" by accounts being a senior in high school should be 17 or 18.

Bee sighs, "It was the rule when I started school in Forks, Washington, where I'm from, that if your child was born after September 1st you had to wait and enroll the child the following year. Renee, my mom, was beside herself by it, she threatened to move me back to Phoenix, but Charlie, my dad wasn't having it. Anyway, I was essentially a year older by the time I started kindergarten," she pauses letting this fact sink in before continuing. "And, you know how my leg is all messed up, right?" She looks at me for confirmation, I nod my head remembering that first morning together and the loud pop of her knee.

"Well, it was just before the start of my freshman year of high school in Forks. It was the accident, not only did I break those bones in my leg, but I broke my back too, I spent months in a rehab type place in a nearby town, Port Angeles, it was months before I could start physical therapy. Once I was able to be moved, Renee brought me to Chicago, where she had moved to with Phil Dwyer, her new husband." She looks at me to know I understood where the Dwyer name came from, I give her another nod.

"Renee moved me here figuring it would be an easier convalescence in a big city, more doctors and facilities, reasons like that. By the time I was able to start my freshman year I was almost 15. I didn't make a big deal about it, it's kind of embarrassing to be nearly two years older than your classmates, people just assume you've been left back in school."

I look at her, thankful that she's at least not underage, the fact that I've slept with a student is a whole other issue though.

"Bee," she cuts me off.

"Bella, just call me Bella, it will make it bad if you slip and call me something other than Isabella or Bella."

"Bella," I pause, "you've put so much in jeopardy for me," I try not to sound like I'm being selfish, we're both in jeopardy of losing so much.

"I'm sorry, after every night we spent together I told myself I had to tell you the truth, it was eating away at me, I just didn't want to lose you. That was me being selfish, I am sorry I didn't' tell you."

I hate seeing her beat herself up for this. It's obvious to us what a dilemma this is, what a horrible situation this has turned out to be.

"Why do you go by Masen?" she asks.

"Carlisle and Esme adopted me when I was about 10; I was Masen before I was a Cullen. I didn't think it would look proper to the other teachers, being 23 and having gotten this job partly because of Esme. This job wasn't anything I planned on doing."

"I see," she says thoughtfully. We sit there lost in our thoughts for some time.

"Edward," she says, "I can't give you up."

I now sigh. "Bella," it sounds foreign coming off of my tongue. "We don't have a choice, we can't continue."

"So what, that's it?" her voice becoming emotionless. That empty feeling in my chest returns. The tone of her voice is chilling to me.

"It has to be," I state. I don't say anything else, I know if I keep on I will rationalize this and continue to see her.

She gets up and walks to the windows, looking out over the lake.

"Is this what you want?" she asks, not turning towards me.

I think about this question. Is this what I want? No, I don't think it is, while we never called us a couple, we were for all intents and purposes. I find this surprising. I had invested more into Bella than I had in any one else, outside of family. But I cannot think this way, this will get me into trouble. If the situation was different, if she had just lied about being 19 instead of older, or lied about her name, then maybe I could have excused that, but she's in high school and she's a student of mine, I cannot ignore that glaring fact. While it may not be the answer I want to give, it's the one I have to.

"Yes, this is what I want," I say and I hope Bella does not notice my lack on conviction.

She turns and looks at me, assessing my response. I don't know what she sees but I hope it's not the truth.

"I know you won't be able to quit me, Edward because I won't be able to quit you. Regardless of how much you think you want to, I know you don't. You're just like me, you need this. I don't know why this is, maybe we're like a drug to one another, maybe the high fills all of the need and want we have in our life. And I so wish this wasn't the case, because I don't want to live my life like this, live my life one day at a time so I can get over you. But since this is what you want, I will respect it, it's the only thing I can do." She walks over to me and runs her fingertips along my jaw line to my lips. Her touch radiating my skin. I look into her eyes and see the silent tears streaming down her cheeks and all I want to do is wipe them away, but I can't. I watch as she turns and walks out the door.


a/n Thanks for getting to the end of another chapter, for the imagery of Edward swimming the butterfly you can leave me a review. And not germane to this story in the least, but if you have any recipes using radishes, please pm me with them, I am just about to harvest my second batch and still haven't finished the first ones, there's only so many you can use in a salad. Hopefully next post will be quicker than this one. Also, on my profile I put a thing for the Chicago River on St. Pat's Day, along with the song, Breath You In, which I think goes with this chapter. It's another OM records release, but I swear, I'm not a shill for them, I just like the label.