A/N: I continue to be amazed! To say that I have been blown away by the response to this particular story is an absolute fucking understatement. I am so glad that you guys are liking this one! Thank you so much to all who have read, tagged, reviewed, and PM'ed me. Hopefully this chapter will answer a lot of the questions that you asked after the first chapter of the continuation…

Thanks to my wonderful betas laraisawkward, Brandy_D, and moonlightdreamer33 for all of their helpful suggestions with this chapter. This story wouldn't be the same without them!

Without further ado…

~/~ August ~/~

The past five weeks had been interesting to say the least. The time seemed to fly by, yet simultaneously drag. You know the saying: Out of sight, out of mind? Well, that was one big crock of shit. Despite the fact that I had stored Edward's note safely away, it remained firmly at the forefront of my mind, where it wreaked major havoc. I was in a constant state of anxiety, because I was now constantly thinking about what that note might signify.

Why had he left it? Did he really want me to call him? And if I did call him, what would we talk about? Was he really just looking to 'catch up' with an old friend, or was he hoping for something more? If so, what?

Argh!

What the fuck was I supposed to think?

The day after my…emotional breakdown… I was once again reminded of the impact that Edward Cullen still had on and in my life. More specifically, my love life—or lack thereof. Yeah, I hate to fucking admit this, but I hadn't dated much since my botched relationship with Edward. I had thought that all of that was about to change… But the hold that Edward still had over me became quite apparent when Jasper sauntered up to me as soon as I took my post at the cash register that Saturday morning.

~/~

"Morning, sunshine!"

I winced at the volume of his voice and smiled weakly in his direction as I adjusted my sunglasses on my nose. I hadn't slept well last night. Oh, hell…let's be honest… I hadn't slept at all last night, and I was fucking paying for it now.

He grinned widely at me, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "You look like shit, sweetie. You go out last night?"

In the past, I would have made some tacky fucking comment about getting drunk and getting laid to explain away my ragged appearance, but today, I wasn't in the mood. I was on edge.

"Thanks for pointing that out to me, Jasper. I was completely fucking unaware about how terrible I look," I hissed waspishly, my voice full of bitter sarcasm.

Jasper seemed a bit taken aback by my irritation, and he spent the next few minutes silently watching me. In his defense, I had never before spoken to him like that. I sighed and tried my best to ignore his perusal, but I could feel his concerned gaze, which only irritated me further. I finally turned to face him with a scowl.

"What?" I snapped.

"What's going on, Bella?" he asked in a soft voice, all joking aside.

I just shook my head, not wanting to talk about it.

"You okay?"

No, I wasn't okay. I didn't want to talk to him about it, either, so I just shrugged, hoping that he would take my hint and let it be. But Jasper and I had become friends over the past few weeks, and I had opened up to him a bit. He knew something was wrong, and I knew that he wouldn't let it go.

"Guy trouble?" he finally asked, warily.

I sighed and nodded slightly. He looked confused, and possibly a little hurt, not that I could blame him--I had never mentioned that I was seeing anyone, not that Edward and I were together… Nevertheless, my reaction to his letter made me aware of several unresolved issues. And made me realize that despite what I had tried to convince myself, I wasn't ready to date.

Jasper was still looking at me, as if he was expecting me to elaborate.

I sighed again. "Long story that I really don't want to talk about right now."

He sighed in resignation, a defeated look in his eyes. "Well, I guess this means that you don't want to go out…"

I looked at him sadly. Oh Jasper… If only he had asked me out two days ago, I would've said yes. We had been flirting for weeks, and I was comfortable with him. He talked to me and seemed to like me for me. In fact, just last week, I'd had the feeling that he was going to ask me out, and I when I thought about how I might respond to that kind of invitation, I realized that it was time to experience a real relationship rather than one that existed only in my head. Jasper was cute, and nice, and most importantly, he was here. I had finally decided that it was time to move on, to put my unrequited love for Edward Cullen behind me, and that was the reason why I was so pissed by Edward's fucking note yesterday.

Damn it to hell…

I shook my head. "I'm so sorry," I whispered, wishing that my answer could be different but knowing otherwise.

He just nodded in return and went back to work behind the counter.

~/~

Things had been a bit strained between Jasper and I ever since.

A few weeks after that particular incident, there was another. Once again, I had parked in the admin lot because I was running late. As I was walking to my car after class, I had seen Edward's sister, Alice, exiting the administration building. Just the sight of her brought back all the old guilt; my run in with her that fateful afternoon at the movies had been the beginning of the end of my previous relationship with Edward. I ducked back around the corner of the building as soon as I realized it was her, so I don't think that she saw me. She looked quite a bit different; she had lost a lot of weight, but I would recognize her short spiky hair and features anywhere—she was a smaller, darker, and feminine version of Edward.

Nothing else… odd… had happened, per se, but I knew it was only a matter of time. Somehow, I just knew that my life was getting ready to change. I could feel it in the fucking air. I felt like I was walking a tightrope, and a single wrong step would send me tumbling. Or that I was walking into a trap. The carefully structured existence that I had carved out for myself over the last three years was crumbling, and I didn't like the feeling of helplessness that accompanied its destruction.

No, I definitely didn't like it. Not one fucking bit.

~/~/~/~

I awoke on the first day of the fall semester with a really fucking bad feeling.

I had dreamed of Edward the previous night. That wasn't anything particularly new—I had been periodically dreaming about him for years—although it had been a while since he had made an appearance before that note had appeared on my car last month. However, after that note… Well, let's just say that dreaming about Edward Cullen was now a regular fucking occurrence. At least it hadn't been one of those dreams; I don't know if I could have handled that. However, it was one of those vaguely disturbing dreams where I felt as if I was missing some important point—searching for an answer, but never finding it—and no matter what I asked him, he refused to answer me. It was like a twisted fucking analogy of my life, and it left me feeling quite unsettled and sleep-deprived, which I did not need on my first day of the semester.

Unfortunately, the feeling of uneasiness only increased during the day. The strange coincidences that occurred throughout the morning probably didn't help. For example, while I was getting ready for school, the infamous song-that-shall-no-longer-be-named came on the radio. I turned that shit off as quickly as possible, but that damn song had been stuck in my head ever since. Then, when I got to school, I saw a stupid fucking Camaro in the parking lot. It was red, not blue, and obviously an older model than the car Edward had driven back in high school, but it still made me think of him. And finally, when I reached my first class and pulled out my notebook in order to date the sheet of paper on which I would take my notes for the day, I realized that fate had an incredibly fucked up sense of humor.

Today was August 21st. Four years to the fucking day since I lost everything that I had never known I wanted until it was too late.

I groaned. Somehow, I knew in my bones that something… strange… was going to happen today. The frisson of foreboding I felt all the way to the bottom of my soul told me that it was inevitable. I also knew with absolute certainty that whatever happened would somehow be connected to Edward. So I was jittery, on edge, and quite fucking paranoid, just waiting for that something—whatever it might be—to happen.

I made it through all of my morning classes without any sort of incident. I also spent three busy office hours with Jacob—I was finally starting to become comfortable referring to him in that manner—working on class syllabuses, as well as preparing handouts and assignments for his classes this week. By the time we walked to his 1:00 p.m. upper-level Shakespearean literature class, in which I was acting as his assistant for the semester, the unsettled feeling had faded away. I was in my element in the classroom. Not to mention, it was my last hour of the day. If something was going to happen, it would have happened by now, right?

We arrived to class early, and I got to work setting out stacks of hand-outs on each of the bench-like tables in the lecture hall, while he walked to the platform and wrote out the necessary introductory material on the dry-erase board. We finished up just as students started trickling into the classroom. I heard the thrum of feet filing between the desks and traversing the steps, the steady stream of whispered conversation as students talked amongst themselves before the class started. I took my seat in the front row as Jacob made his way to the lectern, where he watched the students enter the room.

Just as Jacob began his introductory address, it hit me like a ton of fucking bricks: an electric awareness that sucked the air out of my lungs and caused each and every hair on my body to rise to attention. I felt simultaneously hot and cold, like my body had somehow been plunged into a tub that was both icy cold and boiling at the same time. Without even turning around, I knew the cause of this reaction.

Edward Cullen.

Shit. You've gotta be fucking kidding me… Was he seriously in this class? My class? I resisted the urge to turn around and look, although it was probably one of the hardest fucking things I had ever done. I placated myself with the knowledge that I'd get my chance in a few minutes, anyways; Jacob was a stickler for convention, and he would take the opportunity to introduce me as soon as he got through his opening address. So I sat rigidly in my chair, hands fisted in my lap, staring straight forward as Jacob ran through his opening day spiel.

"Welcome to English 423, otherwise known as Shakespearean literature. I'm Dr. Black…"

I tuned out his words—I had heard this introduction several times over the past two-and-a-half years, both as a student and as a TA—and instead, I focused on my breathing. Or at least I tried to focus on my breathing. The ripples of awareness pulsing around me were quite distracting and I was having a hard time concentrating on anything. But then Jacob's voice pulled me back; he was introducing me. I tensed slightly, knowing that I would have to acknowledge the class momentarily.

"I'm very lucky this semester to have a graduate student as my teaching assistant in this class."

He nodded in my direction, indicating that I should come up to the stage, and continued on before I even stood. I ran my hands quickly through my messy hair in an attempt to tame it and smoothed my hand down the front of my blouse as I rose from my seat.

"She is the only person I know who loves Shakespeare as much as I do. In fact, her thesis studies are focused on Shakespearean literature, so please treat her as if she was another professor and show her the utmost respect."

He winked at me as I ascended the steps and I rolled my eyes at him.

"Miss Bella Swan."

I heard a thump, like a book falling to a table, as I took a deep breath and turned to face the class with a small wave. While Jacob finished introducing me—informing the class of my office location and hours—my eyes covertly searched the room, looking for the familiar mop of messy copper-colored hair and unsightly glasses that I knew must be out there somewhere. But I couldn't find them no matter how hard I searched. I saw a lot of messy frat-boy hairstyles, and multiple guys who were wearing glasses, but none was right. None was the person for whom I was desperately searching. I felt my eyes pinch in frustration. The hair on my arms was still standing on end, and that, combined with the commotion when my name had been announced, informed me that I was not mistaken.

He was there.

Jacob's introduction was now over, and he was getting ready to start the lecture, so I was forced to leave the stage without identifying my target. As I descended the stairs, I took one last look at the class… and my gaze clashed with a very surprised-looking set of emerald green eyes sitting at a table several rows back. My eyes widened. His hair was neatly trimmed, he was wearing a pair of slim, yet stylish, metal-framed glasses, and he was well dressed. Banana Republic metrosexual chic clothing, if I still knew my fashion. My jaw dropped in shock. It was Edward, but it wasn't… I shook my head as I returned to my seat, breaking our eye contact.

I felt his eyes boring a hole into the back of my head throughout the remainder of the hour. For the first time in four years, I did not pay attention to a lecture. I was too aware of him. I felt nothing but the electric tingles radiating up and down my arms and heard nothing but the thumping rush of blood through my head. When class was over, I snatched my bag up quickly and made my way towards the exit on the other side of the room. A scuffling noise accompanied his voice as he called my name.

"Bella…"

I ignored the summons as I scurried towards the door.

"Bella, wait!"

The velvet voice sent shivers down my spine and caused my feet to move faster. I could hear him shoving the chairs out of the way as he attempted to get to the aisle. My heart was pounding and my breath was coming in short gasps, but I forced my feet to keep moving. Then he spoke my name—my given name—in a resolute tone.

"Isabella."

My feet halted just as I reached the doorway. At the sound of my name rolling off his tongue after so many years, my heart stuttered to a stop, then started hammering away in my chest. He had finally cleared the desks and was running up the stairs. At my sudden stop, he ran into me, his hands coming to rest on my shoulders in order to keep from bowling me over. My traitorous mind couldn't help but recall the way those hands had felt on my body in times past. My body hadn't forgotten either; when he squeezed gently, I felt myself fucking tremble at his touch. I dropped my head, looking at the floor, ashamed at my body's involuntary response. He released my shoulders in order to step around me, coming to rest in front of me. When I refused to look at him, he lifted a finger to my chin and tipped it up, forcing me to meet his eyes. They were confused, pinched with concern.

"Hey, Edward…" My greeting was whispered.

My eyes roved his form hungrily, drinking in his much-improved appearance. He had definitely filled out since high school. His clothing fit perfectly now—distressed denim caressed his thighs and the button-down shirt highlighted his now-broad shoulders and slim waist—a complete contrast from how he had dressed when I knew him in back high school. I smiled when I looked down to see that he still favored loafers without socks, though. For some reason, that didn't bother me now. I glanced back up to meet his eyes again. Even the thin wire-framed glasses were attractive, somehow highlighting his eyes rather than hiding them. As I stared, their color shifted from emerald to jade, before softening to a mossy shade reflective of his compassion.

"You look good," I told him with a small smile. And he did. He looked really fucking good.

He smiled in return, and muttered a quietly awkward, "Thanks."

I realized in that moment that while his physical appearance had definitely improved since I had seen him last, the reciprocal was definitely not true. I knew that I looked different, and not in a good way. I hadn't really given a shit about that until right now. I had convinced myself for the past three years that I didn't care about how I looked. But standing here in front of him, I knew that it had all been a fucking lie. I did care.

Although I shouldn't have been surprised by his next words, they still caught me off guard.

"You look… different..." He struggled to find the right word.

I snorted, reaching up to finger my hair unconsciously.

"I know. It's a great look, isn't it?" I asked in a self-deprecating manner. I rolled my eyes. "My roommate had this wonderful idea a few months back that I could 'so pull off the Joan Jett look.' For some reason, I believed her; I might have been drunk at the time. In hindsight, I realize that it probably wasn't the smartest decision. Now I'm stuck with this stupid fucking mullet."

Edward's eyes widened, but the corners of his mouth were twitching in an attempt to keep from smiling. Completely deadpan, he nodded his head and stated, "Yeah… I had forgotten why the mullet went out of style. Thanks for reminding me…"

I smacked him on the shoulder, shocked by his words and my immediate response to them. Then we both smiled and eventually started laughing. I was surprised at the instantaneous comfort I experienced just talking to him. I hadn't laughed—really laughed—in quite some time. This was going far better than I ever could have expected. I was facing my past, and I was laughing with him. Even if it was over my hideous hair. My tension began to melt away.

Only to return with a fucking vengeance when he asked his next question.

"Did you get my note a few weeks back?"

My eyes flashed guiltily to his. I didn't answer. I didn't have to. The look in his eye told me that he knew the answer.

"So that was your car?"

I nodded.

"Still driving the same car from way back when, huh?"

I nodded again. "You?"

"Nah… my parents still have it, though." A small frown pinched at his lips for a second, but it was quickly replaced by a nostalgic smile. "I loved that car."

I smiled in return. That car had been the perfect fit for him.

We stood in companionable silence for a moment, each lost in our own thoughts, and I thought that I had dodged a fucking bullet in the conversation. I was proven wrong with his next words.

"You didn't call…"

I sighed. "No."

I looked down, unable to make eye contact anymore. Yeah… the fucking tension was back.

"Why not?" he asked.

I shrugged.

"Isabella?"

I shuddered at the sound of his velvety, smooth voice speaking my name. It brought back so many memories… Even after all this time, it still felt like a warm, relaxing caress that embraced every inch of me; chill bumps once again arose on my exposed skin. But I couldn't disobey the command that his voice had issued, so I raised my eyes guardedly to look into his. He was still waiting for an answer.

I shrugged again. "I don't know." I struggled for an excuse that sounded reasonable—there was no way in hell that I would tell him the truth—but my mind was drawing a fucking blank. All I could manage was another small shrug.

We stood in silence for a minute, staring at each other warily, not exactly knowing what to say to the other.

"Too much water under the bridge?" he finally offered.

I smiled sadly at him, but jumped to grab the excuse he had provided. "Yeah… Something like that."

He nodded in return, a sad smile of his own gracing his lips. More awkward silence and intense staring followed.

"This hasn't been too bad, has it? Talking to me?" he finally asked.

"No," I replied, somewhat shocked by my answer.

My surprise must have been evident, because he finally smiled at me. A real smile. And his smile caused me to smile in return.

"Maybe we could do it again sometime...?"

His question made me feel hopeful, and my heart started racing again, but in a good way this time. I really had enjoyed talking to him, and what better way to deal with your demons than to confront them head-on? I started to relax, and I smiled more widely.

"Yeah. That'd be nice."

It really would be nice.

"Maybe we could grab a coffee?" he asked cautiously.

Coffee? Oh shit.

"Oh, shit! Fucking hell," I cursed loudly as I looked down at my watch.

It was 2:45 p.m.

Edward was looking at me with a combination of shock and confusion.

"Sorry," I apologized for my language as I reached down to grab my bag and hoisted it onto my shoulder. "Some things never fucking change, huh?" I asked with a smile.

He shook his head ruefully. "I guess not."

"That should be a comfort…" I mused, surprised by the fact that for just a few moments, standing here talking with him, I really was feeling like my old, feisty self again.

He chuckled and smiled at me. I smiled back, and I knew I was grinning like a fucking idiot.

I looked at my watch again.

Shit!

2:50 p.m.

"Edward, I hate to do this, but I've gotta run…"

I moved away from the classroom, walking at a brisk pace. He fell into step beside me. The smile on his face had morphed into a frown. "Did I say something wrong?"

I laughed. "No, not at all. And just so you know, I would love to have coffee with you sometime."

He smiled in return. "But…" he prodded as we stepped out of the building into the bright sunshine of the afternoon.

"But your invitation just reminded me that I'm fucking late for work."

Again.

A/N: Hope you liked... Edward wants to know what you think of him now. Hit that little green button and let us know...

:)