A/N: A bit of trivia. The reason I wrote this fic was to cure my fear of writing lemons. You'll understand a few chapters ahead ;-)

Chapter 7

Closer to the Edge

I didn't get much sleep that night. It was a habit of mine to lay awake after sex with He Man, Moron of the Universe, feeling plagued and empty. After all, who could feel whole while subjecting themselves to the perversions of a beefed-up imbecile with the emotional maturity of Barney the Dinosaur?

Jake's two priorities for an effective night of sex did not include me. Aside from getting himself off, his other objective was to sneak in a quick workout. No point in passing up a good butt clench and bicep curl, because what else was there to life other than sex, football and workouts?

Needless to say, after being used as an apparatus for weight resistance training by Jake, there was nothing left for me to do but wonder how in this universe had I succumbed to being little more than a walking pocket pussy-slash-dumbbell.

Eventually, anesthetizing myself on orgasms with Jake, soon gave way to fantasizing that Jake was Edward in order to achieve one. But when the idea of Edward moaning out, "give it to me momma" repeatedly seemed like blasphemy, my only alternative was sneaking in a quick pelvic floor exercise.

After all, why pass up a good opportunity to workout?

During the end of our sexual relationship, I doubt sleep would have been possible, anyway. If I wasn't suffering from chronic trauma-related eye twitching, I was plummeting into the depths of self-loathing over the fact that I was fucking an imbecile, so I could mind fuck his best friend.

In the end, all that was fucked was my life, and my friendship with Edward—that wasn't really a friendship more than it was the result of my wanton delusions and fantasies.

Was it any wonder Celeste had staged a successful takeover of my reason?

I also suspected she was smarter than me. . .

When I'd told Edward he was my consolation, I wasn't altogether lying; he was. It wasn't all he was, but since I couldn't have him in the way I wanted him, I had settled for second prize and his friendship. A friendship he had told me tonight he didn't want to lose; a friendship that would damage me further the longer I stayed in it.

These demons alone were enough to keep me awake, but add to that my complete bewilderment over Edward's brutal reaction to me tonight and there was no chance I'd be able to shut off my mind.

Rose's theory was that he was confused, which quickly made him pissed off. According to her, Edward was just as much in love with me as I was with him, and that I'd asked him to fuck me to help emotionally detach myself from Jake had traumatized him. But then Rose's reference to guys barely went beyond them being little boys who needed a good "once over" from time to time.

Her definition of a once over usually involved explicit details and descriptive adjectives rarely found outside of erotica novels.

And I thought Celeste was a whore!

I suppose it was plausible that I'd traumatized Edward, but I couldn't bring myself to believe it. Edward did feel something for me, but to the same depth as I did? It'd be too dangerous to let myself believe it.

If he did love me, why hadn't his words been "I don't want to lose you" instead of "I don't want to lose your friendship"?

Friendship, platonic . . . the friend zone; I really hated those words. They were becoming more of a torture than the time my father—in continued denial—forced me to attend the Forks Purity Ball when I was at the height of my Red Sea parting Celeste phase. My presence had caused a senior member of the Ladies of High Esteem Quilting Club to faint into the punch bowl; which consequently resulted in my being escorted out—to the whispered aspersions of my wanton ungodliness. In my defense, the hostess did make me stand up and make a virginity pledge.

But I digress. . .

If friendship was all Edward honestly felt for me, it wouldn't be enough to stop the melodrama that would be my heartbreak. Heartbreak I deserved for being a national disgrace to my gender over the fact that I'd once enjoyed the image of Jake—through his ceiling mirror—clenching his butt cheeks. Even worse than that; I'd also masturbated to the image of it.

Was it any wonder that even Celeste had hauled ass and went on hiatus?

If all that wasn't enough to keep me awake, there was another reason I couldn't sleep; one which had the potential to keep me up for the next decade.

It was the realization that—despite the heartache that had gone with it—I'd actually had sex with Edward. Rough, emotionally charged sex that had left me coursing with so much energy I felt statically charged. I was literally twitching from the slightest contact against my skin, ready to be thrown over the edge at a moment's notice by what the memories alone were eliciting.

I was becoming so over stimulated I feared even breathing in case Rose caught on and then diffused the situation with cold water.

Over and over my mind projected back to me the events of that afternoon, and the more I processed every detail, the more I realized just how much I had got it wrong with Edward. He wasn't detached and cold as I had first thought. In fact, he was the complete opposite of detached; he was a ramrod—pun intended—of emotion. There was no indifference with him; it wasn't just about him getting laid so he could make the last quarter of the football. What Edward had expressed was obviously something that ran deep. There was a definite anger and hostility within him, but it was passionate at the same time. His eyes had burned with it; his actions and body language were a confession to it. His iron hard muscles, and determined, set jaw. . .

Oh God, Father, bless me, for I have sinned. . .

It was a good thing Roddy was running low on battery power, with all the energy I was emitting I'd probably short circuit it. I'm sure the damn thing was suicidal anyway; the moment I switched it on it made a whirring sound as if it was screaming in pain.

Bella Swan, whore and torturer of masturbation devices. There needed to be an extra clause added to the warranty for every Roddy: manufacturer will not be held responsible for use in water, or Bella Swan.

If I ever slept again, it would be a miracle.

. . .

Somehow, I managed a few hours in the early morning, where my dreams became flashed projections of Edward's body pummeling repeatedly into mine. It completely changed the ambience of what had really happened; almost convincing me in the process.

When I woke up, the charge under my skin was so wanton that my entire body was covered in indecent-looking goose bumps, while my hair was a monstrosity of static electricity.

As I was staggering from my bedroom to the bathroom, Rose appeared from her room and was almost held up short.

"Good lord, girl!" she exclaimed, somehow continually managing to be incredulous at my expense.

"No 'Marlena' today, bitch face?" I grumbled, carefully avoiding all contact with the wench in case I zapped her.

"Nope, today you get a reprieve, because you're going to tell Roman your true feelings for him, right?" She cocked an eyebrow at me that hinted with reprisals if I refused to conform.

The cow had watched The Godfather more times than what was appropriate.

"I guess," I replied, trying to stave off the panic attack that I was losing all tolerance for—and in all probability would have me flying head first down the stairs by Rose's resulting huff alone.

"Honestly, Celeste, I prefer my dramas during Big Bang, not sucking the life out of me while sneaking my Coco Chanel."

Only Rose would find the drama in The Big Bang Theory, but then considering her step mother was eighteen months younger than she was and referred to her as "sweetheart", her interpretation of drama was slightly askew.

I chose a different angle.

"You totally owe me a new bottle of perfume after you threw mine out the window thinking it belonged to one of Emmett's whores. So if I scrounge some of yours, it's payback!"

"Nice evasive action, Marlena," was her sly response, before intercepting the bathroom from me.

"Freaking hell, Rose, look at me! I need the shower more than you!" I hollered, pounding on the door.

"Are you suicidal?" she yelled back over the sound of the spray; her tone doing a perfect imitation of a smirk. "With all the energy coming off you, you practically charged my vibrator from the hallway! You'll kill us both!"

Bitch!

I trudged downstairs realizing I needed caffeine more than a shower anyway.

I was waiting for the coffee to boil when the phone rang. Not in the mood for formalities of any kind, I let the machine get it and almost gave myself third degree burns when Edward's, still incredibly uncertain-sounding, voice hesitantly filled the room.

"Mother—fuck!" I burst out impulsively, hastily wiping the burning water from my singlet top while straining to hear his message.

"Bella, I was thinking that maybe we should go down to the beach or something. Do you want me to pick you up, or do you want to meet me—"

"Come and pick her up!" Rose's voice suddenly violated my reverie with Edward's husky tone while practically giving me a coronary in the process.

"Mother fuck!" I repeated, before hurling myself at the phone, without fear of life or limb, and snatched up the receiver.

"I've got it, Rose," I answered trying not to clench my teeth and sound homicidal.

"'Bout time. You knew I was in the shower. Hi, Edward."

"Hi, Rose," he replied, sounding slightly bemused.

I waited for the clicking sound signaling Rose had hung up, with flaring nostrils.

"Hey," I said a little too breathlessly when I was confident the cow had gone.

"Hi," he replied, his voice warming and turning soft.

"You want to go down to the beach?" I asked him, clearing my throat repeatedly, suddenly in the throes of flustered induced angina.

"Um, yeah—if you want to?"

"I don't mind," my voice had deepened. I sounded like a phone sex whore, and I realized that's exactly who had taken charge in lieu of my pitiful attempt at articulation. I cleared my throat violently.

"Bella?"

"Yeah."

"Were . . . were you avoiding me?"

Oh God, I was trying to smell him down the receiver.

"Why would you think that?" I asked, seriously this time.

"I tried your cell, but it rang out three times—never mind."

Christ, the insecurity reflecting in his voice was making me rabid!

"No—I put it on silent at night," I explained quickly. Otherwise I was woken up repeatedly throughout the night with Facebook updates. Usually they were Jake's running commentary of the blowjob he was getting. Maybe he forgot—again—that I could see his posts.

I had to remember to block that fucker!

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"What for?" I asked, slightly confused.

"I dunno—anyway, what time do you want me to pick you up?"

I closed my eyes; he was assaulting his hair with his fingers. . .

"Um, about an hour," the phone sex whore answered.

"Okay, I'll see you then," his tone dipped to tender.

"Bye," I breathed, before hanging up and realizing that I was embarrassingly fully charged once again.

I drifted into the kitchen to retrieve my coffee and was faced with Rose sipping hers. Though, her mug did not disguise her continued mocking expression.

How the hell did she get here so fast, I wondered, reaching for my cup.

"An hour . . . jeez, doesn't give you a lot of time in hair and makeup, Marlena."

"Mother fuck!" I burst for the third time in ten minutes, as I bolted for the stairs.

. . .

Edward arrived not a minute passed sixty, and I almost fell through the door in my haste to open it before Rose.

He smiled, almost awkwardly, down at me, while his eyes were deep with continued guilt.

Of course, Celestria, dwelling within had successfully diverted my focus away from the emotional aspect of our wall romp, to the physical, and for a moment I stared up at him confused by his expression.

"Hi, are you okay—I mean, hi!" Take a breath, count to ten; drug fucking Celeste with a valium.

The corner of his lips twitched, before he broke completely into a warm smile. "I'm okay, are you?"

"Hi, Edward!" Rose spoke up from behind me with more than an obvious innuendo behind her tone.

But Edward, ever the clueless male, didn't appear to notice anything out of the ordinary, and turned his whore-inspiring smile towards her. "Hey, Rose."

"You guys have fun. I'm off to watch Days of Our Lives."

One . . . two . . . three. . .

Edward's grin grew in amusement; it was the only thing that relaxed my rapidly thinning lips. "Um, okay, well you have fun too."

"Totally! Today is the episode where Marlena tells Roman that she's been in love with him for two years."

The air completely left my lungs.

Edward's expression turned slightly puzzled. "Erm. . ."

Five . . . six. . .

Fuck this counting shit!

"Let's go, huh? I said to him, knowing I sounded slightly maniacal, before grabbing his arm and yanking him back through the door with me.

"Goodbye, Bells, and don't forget, I LOVE YOU!" the wench called out after us.

"Son of a WHORE!" I burst out, though luckily it coincided with me tripping up the path and stumbling forward.

Edward understood my pain induced Tourette's; he wouldn't think anything of it.

He caught me, just like he always did, wrapping his large hands around my waist and righting me. "Have a good trip?" he teased me gently.

I took a breath and calmed myself down, but then it was probably the scent of Edward's aftershave, as I inhaled it in, effectively sedating my hostility.

"Yeah," I replied with a strange, short, inebriated-sounding laugh.

With his hands remaining on my waist he turned me to fully face him. "Bella. . ." he began seriously before his forehead bridged and that vulnerability flickered behind his eyes again, "you're acting very strangely—but, but I guess you have right to. . ."

To see him continually punish himself over what had happened between us the day before, sobered me up immediately.

"I'm okay, Edward," I promised him, taking one of his hands and squeezing it. "I'm not angry over what happened yesterday. I'm largely at fault."

"I completely took advantage of you." His eyes were solemn, his brow deeply etched with remorse.

I knew it should have brought out a similar emotion in me, but all I could process was how this side of him created a fierce protectiveness within me that quickly manifested itself as desire and hunger.

Forging my bottom lip between my teeth, I forced myself not to place my hand on his cheek—and the other from ripping the buttons off his shirt.

"You didn't, Edward. Believe me," I spoke so resolutely that a little crick of confusion appeared between his eyebrows. "But let's not talk about it here," I mumbled as the familiar jittery energy of fear quickly spread through me.

He smiled at me tenderly in answer before taking my hand and leading me to his car. His brows remained fused together, and I knew that sooner or later he was going to make me explain that one to him in more detail.

Celeste began a twisted bongo rendition of We Will Rock You with my heart, while I talked myself out of crying. Because being a pitiful, sappy, wanton wretch was pretty much the epitome of who I was of late.

. . .

Edward drove us to the beach; the same beach where I had fallen in love with him, and the same beach where he'd saved my life.

We hadn't been back since that fateful day a little over a year ago, where I came to the realization that what I was feeling for Edward was not just filler for all of Sasquatch's short comings, but that I was in love with him wholly and completely.

Stepping out of the car, I took a long breath, feeling a little melancholy that this beach was the beginning and in all probability was going to be the end of Edward and me.

I wondered if it was symbolic, if this was his idea of taking us full circle so we could part while giving both of us a sense of closure.

What I didn't understand was why he had to tell me anything if he was leaving in a week. If he wanted an out with a minimal amount of fuss, it was right there.

My eyes drew in his direction; he was leaning into the trunk of his car, pulling out a picnic blanket. I caught a glimpse of the black waistband of his Calvin Klein underwear and felt my breath catch. Celeste was lighting candles even as I ogled him, but I didn't embrace it. He suddenly felt like a mirage; I was parched for thirst, but the moment I reached for him he was going to disappear.

He closed the trunk and turned to face me, and I only stared back at him. He gazed at me for a moment gauging me with weary eyes, before his head dropped and his hand curved around the nape of his neck.

"This is killing me, Bella," he spoke softly with his eyes focused on the ground.

"What is?" I asked without taking a breath. Celeste suddenly had a strangle-hold of my lungs, refusing me air.

His head whipped up and his burning eyes caught mine. His forehead was becoming deeply knotted—I couldn't stand seeing him like this. "You," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "standing there staring at me with those huge eyes of yours, like I broke you!"

The sound of it shot out at me, sliced Celeste in two and anchored itself within my chest.

"Edward, stop worrying about me. I'm okay. You didn't break me. I swear I'm okay," I insisted passionately, but I was unable to keep the sentiment from my tone. It contradicted everything I'd said.

He took a heavy breath and severed his gaze. His entire expression was so compromised that it was making the emotion brewing within him almost tangible, and I knew he wasn't going to believe anything I said to reassure him . . . unless I explained it allto him.

All of it.

Reaching out I grabbed his hand; it was tense and tightly balled at his side. I forced my fingers into his closed palm before threading them through his.

Almost reluctantly he relaxed, before again releasing his breath into a jaded-sounding sigh; his eyes remaining locked to his feet.

"Edward, look at me," I pleaded with him. Reluctantly he did, but when his eyes met mine, they almost did to me what he'd feared he'd done the night before. The anguish he was battling with was crushing me. I would rather confess everything to him than see him continue to torture himself like this. I couldn't bear his guilt for a moment longer. "What happened last night was exactly what I needed. You did me a huge favor."

He groaned before covering his face with his hand—that was still clutching the picnic blanket. "Bella, if you tell me I helped sever your emotional ties with Jake, or whatever, I'm going to fucking puke!"

My mouth fell open, but the indignant retort on my lips died immediately. I just stood staring up at him as a hundred emotions raged through me. A part of me wanted to punch him, right in that sex-god jawline of his for being more clueless than what should have been humanly possible. But another part of me got caught up immediately by the hard edge to his tone and was instantly taken back to the night before.

Holy shit!

Was his anger connected to me and Jake—to thinking I was still in love with Jake?

The adrenalin began building within me, compromising my heart, my pulse—my rationality. I shook my head trying to clear my thoughts from the carnal direction this revelation had created, so I could analyze it further—find a flaw in it.

Could Rose have been right all along? Or did Edward just resent the fact that he believed I was using him to emotionally cut myself from Jake?

A dry, humorless half laugh erupted from me before I looked up squarely into Edward's impassioned, accusing green eyes. "Oh you severed me from Jake, Edward—I'm not going to deny it. You severed me from him a year ago when you saved my life at this very beach!"

A/N: Is she gonna spiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiill? Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading =)
MWAH xoxo