SM owns not me.

GropeWorthyCullen is my awesome Beta – I know I am flipping out over Rob's beard still while he drives to NOLA! What lucky people in Lubbock TX last night! GAH!

And HippieStarr is the best pre-reader a girl could ask for!

Chapter 4: Oh Star

Oh star fall down on me

Let me make a wish upon you

Hold on, let me think

Think of what I'm wishing for

Wait, don't go away.

Just not yet.

Cause I thought,

I had it.

But I forget.

-Paramore

BPOV

I wake up in Emmett's arms, with soft kisses on my neck, gentle caresses up and down my sides. It's the best feeling. I feel safe and warm wrapped up in his arms.

He lifts my shirt and reveals the tattoo on my hip. His fingers trace the picture. "Tell me about this?" he whispers.

His fingers ghost down the barrel of the hand gun that points downward. The dates on the blue handle. The butterfly being shot out of the end.

"Um, I got it for my Dad...Charlie. He...um, well he was a cop," I try to find the words. I try not to sound like a blabbering idiot when I talk about him. He told me to never be afraid to spread my wings and fly. So, when I got accepted into college, I couldn't stay. He wanted me to fly. So I do that, everyday, for him.

"What happened to him?" he asks me.

"Cancer. I was fifteen. It happened so fast. When he found out, they gave him like months to live. He was so strong. He loved being a cop. He was proud of that. I was terrified of his gun. So afraid one of those horrible accidents you hear about would happen and someone would get killed. He would say, "Bells, guns don't kill people, people kill people with guns. This gun, it protects this town. It protects you. It protects me," I tell him.

I can see Charlie telling me, I can see his fingers stroking his mustache with his finger and thumb. I can feel it scratch and tickle my face when he kissed my cheek, my forehead. It's nice to remember.

"I didn't want to forget what he stood for, to serve and protect, and...he, ah, always called me his Beautiful Butterfly. Then when he died, I kind of imagined him flying away to a better place. A beautiful place without cancer to suck away his life. Someplace he could be restored. Sorta like a butterfly, ya know?"

Emmett nods. His lips kiss the tattoo. His tongue dips into my navel. He tells me he loves me. My hands roam through his hair, it's short, not much to grasp but it feels soft in between my fingers.

I love that he waited to ask about it. Like he just knew the right time to ask. The moment I would be ready to share it. He just knows me. He lets me do things at my own pace.

He doesn't ask why I didn't tell him sooner about my father. He knows why. I don't want people to know me as the girl that lost her father. Every girl loses their father. It's inevitable. It's life. It stinks. I don't need people to tell me they are sorry. I don't want people to tell me they are sorry.

I just want to remember him. I want to talk about him on my own terms. Not just anyone in my life has earned the rights to that part of my story. Emmett has. He waited for it. He waited for me. Emmett doesn't need me to say this or explain it to him. He just gets it.

Emmett's mouth keeps traveling along my stomach, he moves up to my breasts. He is gentle. His mouth reaches mine, and I feel him settle between my legs.

It's slow, docile. It's welcomed when he enters me. I moan. I hold on to his strong arms as he buries himself inside of me.

It's hard to get use to...having a sex life. I mean I, Bella Swan have a sex life. Regular sex. We have lots of sex. I have years to make up for my lack of sex.

He cups my face and looks at me like I am gold as he moves in and out. In and out. So good.

He always makes me see stars. I always have this stupid grin on my face when it's over. It's nice to be in love. To be loved.

He still runs with me, every morning. The city is being terrorized by this rapist. It's not just one girl anymore. It's been like three. I don't want to go anywhere alone. I am so happy to have a big strong man to protect me. I am even thankful he has a brother willing to do the same. My dad would love him, for the way he protects me.

Edward. I feel bad. His face is really messed up. He has a gash above his eye, it's all black and blue underneath, and his lip is cut.

His moods give me whip-lash. I don't know why he doesn't get close to people, why he seems to have trouble trusting people. I asked Emmett once, and he told me it wasn't his story to tell. He said I should just remember that even though Edward wears this mask, he is still a good guy underneath. He means well, and he cares even if it's hard to see.

Edward thinks I don't see, but I see.

I see the way he is with Elise. I can see how loyal he is. I can see a good guy under all his rough layers. I see the way he helps pick up books, the way he holds doors, the way he punches guys that are bigger than him to defend a girls honor. He keeps up this wall, to keep people from getting too close. I just wish I knew what he was trying to hide behind them.

While we are running, he asks me what my plans are for spring break. I don't have any. He invites me to Baja with him and Edward. I tell him I don't want to intrude. He made these plans with Edward since Emmett is leaving, and I don't want to take away a trip they planned as brothers.

"Edward actually said I should invite you, that way he won't feel so crappy ditching me to hook up with random girls. I mean when we planned it, I was single. He knows I won't be as fun or a very good wing man," he tells me.

I shake my head. "Yeah? I mean if it's okay with Edward," I agree. How could I turn down the ocean? The beach? I'm not that selfless.

It's Sunday, and we are going to Emmett's parents for lunch. I dress up. I feel like an adult. I want to look like one. I put on my knee high black boots with a casual blue baby doll dress. I put on my new wool pea coat. It's gray and black tweed with blue lines. I love it. I bought it last week. The dress is as short as the jacket.

It's cold out, but I have nice legs. They are long and slender. I don't like hiding them. I'm not over confident, but I'm not insecure.

When we get to the Cullen's Emmett goes in ahead of me. I go out back to smoke. He won't let me smoke in his jeep. He thinks it will help me quit. I have no desire to quit.

"Hey there, Bella," Edward says, as he sits on the dock. I would sit, but I can't in the dress. This is why I love my jeans.

We try to be civil.

"Edward," I greet. He looks me up and down. "Just get off your corner?" he laughs.

"Haha, Edward," I laugh along with him. "Very funny." I don't let his jabs bother me.

"Are you wearing anything underneath that jacket?" he comments.

"Nope," I tell him, exhaling smoke.

"Aurora Ave treating you good then?" he asks. It's a street in a crappy part of Seattle known for the seedy motels and hookers.

"I'm worth more than those girls on Aurora Ave, Edward. My corner is classy," I joke back with him. It's the best way to deal with him. Emmett was right. I can't let him get a rise out of me. If he sees that he gets worse.

He annoys the shit out of me. "You really want me to come to Baja with you guys?" I ask him.

"Nope, but Emmett does, and that's all that matters. He deserves to have fun before he enlists. I guess that means including his annoying girlfriend."

"I guess that means putting up with his shithead brother," I tell him back. One thing we have in common; Emmett's happiness. That's enough reason to be civil.

"Not too shabby, Swan," he tells me getting up. He brushes off his butt, slides his cigarettes in his front pocket and walks away tugging his jeans up by the belt loops.

He doesn't like weakness. I know this about him now. And when I get upset, he sees me as weak. When I dish it back to him, he respects me more. Even if I am mean. Which I don't like, I don't like to be mean or rude.

Like I said, he annoys the shit out of me.

I go inside and get hugged by Esme and Elise. I smile. I hug them back. Elise runs back to the TV. She can't miss Wizards of Waverly Place. Edward, says it's better then Hannah Montana so he watches it with her.

"Dude, is that Alex chick eighteen?" Edward asks Emmett.

"I don't know, why?" Emmett asks.

"Cause I'd feel better knowing she was with the things I am thinking about her right now," Edward tells him.

Gross.

Emmett pulls me onto his lap, I push him back. "There's little eyes in the room," I scold him quietly.

"Then let's go in my room," he whispers against my neck as I settle on the couch next to him. "Those boots, that dress, it's doing things to me Bella."

I shiver. Goosebumps surface on my skin. I tingle. I want to taste his wintergreen mouth.

No, stars. Not now. I try to convince myself. I ignore him. If I look at him, I will crumble. All my willpower will dissolve.

His arm goes around my shoulder, I curl into him as we watch this show on Disney with Elise. I focus on his scent. Ocean and woods. It's perfect. I love the ocean. He loves the woods. We are surrounded by both, and I savor the scent.

"I love you," he whispers against my head with a soft kiss. I smell the wintergreen, and it's enough for now.

It's hard to talk about what is going to happen when he leaves. He is going to go to San Diego for thirteen weeks. He will get two weeks to come home, and then he will get stationed somewhere. It could be in California. It could be Japan.

It will be near water. That makes me happy. I know he wants to be an intelligence specialist. I'm ready to follow him. I have to finish school first. One year apart. We can do that. I can handle it.

"You okay, babe?" Emmett asks me. I must have been staring off into space with all these thoughts.

I smile, "Yeah, just thinking," I tell him.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not today," I tell him. I know I avoid things. Avoidance is my defense mechanism of choice. I think if I ignore it, it will go away. Logically, I know this isn't true. I know you can't hide from things forever. Emmett leaving is something I want to avoid as long as possible.

No one has made me feel this happy, this loved, this accepted in a long time. Since my dad. It's scary and wonderful. I feel like I have been fifteen for six years. Emmett showed me how to change. How to grow. Without doing anything but accepting me. Accepting that I put on chucks with a fancy dress for his parents dinner party. Accepting that I wasn't ready for sex, and waiting for me. Accepting that I stutter when I get flustered, that I avoid things, that I spend more time at the aquarium some day's than I do with him. He just accepts me.

It's not like Alice, who is a great friend, but she judges. She doesn't mean too, but she does. She likes to say what I should or shouldn't do, it's like my mother. I guess I am like a deer. You know lead me to water but you can't make me drink it. I'd rather find the water myself than be told where to find it, and Emmett allows me to find it myself.

I don't know what I will do once he leaves. I hope I can keep finding things on my own. That I can keep growing.

EPOV

Emmett and Bella just left. I am helping Elise with her homework, then I am going to the house boat to hang with Emmett for the night.

"Isn't it nice to see Emmett so happy with Bella?" Mom muses.

"Yeah," I agree. Not because I do. Because it's easier.

"Don't you want that?" she asks me, and I want to tell her to shut up. I say it with the glare I shot her. Most of the time she stops pushing and drops it. I don't know why tonight is different.

"Edward, you need to move on," she tells me.

"I have," I tell her.

"No, you haven't. If you had, you'd have someone in your life like Bella. You wouldn't be so closed off to falling in love."

"Maybe I just haven't found anyone, maybe I'd rather focus on getting into Medical school than falling in love," I argue with her. I don't want to argue with her, but I feel like I have no choice.

I get defensive when she wants to talk about shit that happened four years ago.

"I know it was hard when you lost, Makenna," I put my hand up to stop her.

"I don't want to talk about her," I tell her through clenched teeth.

"That's the problem, Edward. You should be able to if you have moved on," she points out.

"Listen, I gotta go," I tell her with a quick kiss to her cheek. She holds my face and tells me she loves me. That she wants me to be happy. I nod.

I'm annoyed now. I heard her name, and her face flashes in my mind. Memories come back to me, and regret fills me.

Makenna was my first and only serious girlfriend in high school. She went to a party one night, and got wasted. I was on my way. When I got there, a few people wanted to tell me how my girlfriend was fucking some other guy.

I was pissed. I broke up with her. She told me she didn't even remember, she said she would never hurt me like that. I wouldn't listen to her. When everyone started calling her the school slut, I let them. She would call me up in tears, telling me she was sorry.

I never gave a shit.

She called and told me she wanted to die.

I never gave a shit.

She called and told she was going to kill herself.

I never gave a shit.

Then, she killed herself. It wasn't fucking pretty either. She ate a bunch of Tylenol. Only that didn't kill her like she hoped. It put her into acute liver failure. She didn't really want to die. She wanted help. And she lived long enough to know she was going to die. Two days was all it took. Two days she waited for death, because there was nothing they could do to repair the damage.

I couldn't even go say I was sorry. What the hell would the point have been? Would it have meant anything to her to hear me say I believed her? That I didn't think she was a slut? Or would it have just made her more angry and bitter? Answers to questions I will never know. Blood on my hands.

I haven't stopped giving a shit since. Which I know sounds crazy, since I don't give a shit about pretty much anything. That's the idea though. The less I have to give a shit about, the better.

Why couldn't I just listen to her? Accept her apology? Tell someone she said these things to me? Told the other kids at school to stop talking shit? I should have done more to help prevent it. I didn't. All I see on my hands is her blood. Does it matter if she cheated on me? No. It all seems so trivial. Not a reason to die.

I hope one day I'll meet someone that makes it better. Makes it okay to love. I can't force that to happen and I don't search for it. I try to have faith that it will find me, that once it does, I'll be ready.

I don't like that my mom thinks I avoid it. I just don't look for it. There is a difference.

It. Love. I mean does anyone look for love? Do people make it their life's mission to find some epic love? How realistic is that? I'd rather look for things I can control. Like a career as a doctor. Like being a good role model for my sister. Like what beer to drink tonight.

Not love. Loving someone isn't hard, not if you like them. It's finding someone you like that is the hard part. It's just the natural progression of shit. You like someone, you get to know them, you fall in love with them. Grow to love them.

That's why they say you fall in love. It's something you do over time. Who knows, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it's like falling off a cliff. Maybe it's fast and life changing. All I know, is I have never been in love.

I asked Emmett what it was like to fall in love with Bella. He didn't say it was like falling off a cliff. He told me it grew. That seems realistic. Not this cliff shit.

"Why all these questions about love?" he asks me.

"Mom brought up Makenna today," I tell him taking a swig of my beer.

Emmett nods in understanding and sips his own.

"She thinks I avoid relationships because of her," I tell him. Maybe it's true. Maybe I do.

"Don't you?" he asks, confirming my doubt.

"I just...I just don't look. I mean if I found someone worth it, I'd like to think I would open up," I tell him.

"You will, dude," he tells me. And I believe him. "You'll find your Bella one day. And you'll be fine."

We sit looking out onto the water in silence for a little while. Because Emmett knows I don't ever say her name. That the fact that I even said it, is a big deal.

I was so thankful to get the hell out of high school. To shed the label of 'the boyfriend of that girl that killed herself'. I don't have to be that guy anymore.

I'd rather be the guy that figures out how to save a liver in acute failure. Or on some panel that decides who gets priority with organ transplants. Anything but the guy who didn't give a shit.

"What about Rose?" Emmett asks me with a smirk.

I shake my head no.

"She's hot, she likes you. She's a bitch. I know you like that shit," he points out. He is right. I like girls that are tough. Girls that don't sugar coat things or gloss them over. Girls that are strong. Girls that aren't girls at all, women. They know what they want and they go after it.

There is nothing sexier than a woman that doesn't need a man.

"She's too needy. She wants to know where the hell I'm at, who I'm with, when I'll be home," I tell him.

He laughs. "It's called being in a relationship. Being held accountable."

"Yeah, well I don't like her enough to put up with it. So, that's why I won't grow to love Rose, I can't seem to like her enough."

Sure she is a good fuck. Reliable. Flexible. Killer body. She just isn't...enough.

I thought I just wasn't in the mood for her these past few weeks, but I'm not even interested in fucking her anymore.

"Want another beer?" I ask him as I head to the fridge to get one for myself.

"Nah, I'm good," he tells me. I quirk my eyebrow at him. We usually each kill a six pack on Sunday nights. "I have to meet Bella in the morning to jog with her," he tells me.

"Since when do you jog with Bella?" I ask, opening my beer bottle. It sounds crisp and a mist leaves the bottle. The first sip is always the best.

"Since that serial rapist is on the loose," he tells me.

"That's crazy. I hope they get the fucker soon."

Emmett says he wants to watch a movie, not talk about some creep that is preying on Seattle college girls. He pulls open the cabinets on the entertainment center, and a centerfold of Britney Spears flutters to the floor. "Dude! What the fuck! I thought you outgrew your crush on this chick?" he asks laughing at me.

"So what if I had a crush on Britney Spears. I was like thirteen when she came out with that album "Britney". Slave for You." God, the memories I have of that video. It was the best thing to jerk off to for a horny kid.

"Shut up, I didn't know that was in there," I tell him taking it from him. I can't bring myself to throw it away. It represents something to me. Like the end of childhood. The beginning of the end of innocence or some shit.

I mean, her in that pink bra, dancing. You could have bounced a fuckin' quarter off her stomach. I wasn't the only thirteen year old boy with Britney posters in my room.

"You're the one that should be ashamed of his childhood fantasies. Seriously? Give me a break with that vampire shit. Buffy," I scoff.

"Please, Edward. She was hot, and could kick your ass, Plus, did you see her in those red leather pants? Or when she split that Caleb guy in half - from his nuts up! That shit was hot!" Emmett points out.

"Britney had better abs, arms, and moves than Buffy. Buffy had a stunt double, Britney did not," I argue back. It's not the first time we discuss this topic, and it won't be the last. "Britney could kick Sarah Michelle Gellar's ass in her sleep."

"But not Buffy's," Emmett says.

I sigh.

"So we are back at square one. Buffy is fictional. Britney is real."

"She is also a certified lunatic," Emmett likes to dig on her.

"Dude, she has some issues, big fucking deal." I don't feel the need to defend Britney Spears. I am not that thirteen year old with a crush anymore. I feel the need to defend certified lunatics that get labeled and end up like Makenna. I know it's not my fault. I didn't start the rumors about her. I didn't do anything differently than any other seventeen-year-old kid. Except I didn't speak up when I should have. Silence kills.

I try to remember her smile. She had the whitest teeth I have ever seen. Her eyes were big and round. She was a cute girl. Bubbly. She had wavy hair. It was light brown, but she would get blond highlights. I gave her this shell necklace one year after we got back from our vacation in Florida. She never took it off.

I remember sitting behind her in English in ninth grade. I was shy. I thought her hair smelled like coconut. She would turn around and glare at me because I would kick her chair. I guess I teased her because I liked her.

One day, I got a call from her friend, asking me if I wanted to be Makenna's boyfriend. The next day, when I saw her at school, I held her hand, because I said yes, and that's what boyfriends and girlfriends do. It took me a month to gather up the courage to ask her on an actual date, and three more before I kissed her.

She was my best friend. I thought she made a fool of me. We were one in high school. If you said Edward, you said Makenna. It was that simple, that expected. And maybe she did make a fool of me, who really cares now.

I just wish I didn't let the politics of high school and how people thought I should act or respond to her. People said I shouldn't give her the time of day after what she did, and I listened. That is what I regret. Being influenced.

So I don't like girls that are influenced or ones that need assurance.

"I'm sorry, dude," Emmett says. He knows it bothers me. He can see the wheel spinning in my head with all these memories. I don't want to stay on this topic.

"Does Bella know about your love for Buffy?" I ask.

"She has her own sordid past with DiCaprio," he chuckles.

"Listen, Edward. I never really thanked you for what you did for her last week. Or for accepting her and letting her come with us for spring break. It means a lot to me. I hope you know how much I appreciate it," Emmett tells me.

"I know, Em," I tell him. He pats my back and pulls out The Departed.

"Speaking of DiCaprio," he laughs.

"Guess I should just be thankful you didn't try to break out the netflix to see Buffy."

Something starts to nag me in my mind. Something about Makenna, about the way I teased her. I can't put my finger on it, and I push it in the back of my mind to evaluate some other time.

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