A/N - Thanks to my betas jkane180 and mac_214 who make this readable. Big love to the fabulous DoUTrustMe for pre-reading and essentially providing a third beta. Thank you to Dave (cryptthing) for letting me know when my guys are acting too girly. Chapter dedication goes to two reviewers of chapter eight for making me smile: Picklewinkle and tg10781

Facebook Status: Dicks are men

Wait, what? Weren't all eighteen-year-olds sexual compulsives?

"That's bullshit, Edward. You're telling me you can't control yourself around women?" He walked around the car and offered me his hand, which I slapped.

"No… not all women." He had the decency to appear uncomfortably shamed. I glared at his green eyes, which could be described as emerald if I'd had any fucking clue what an emerald looked like. The word was rich, denoting something beautiful and rare.

The word was apt.

"Um, what the fuck does that mean... not all women?"

He shrugged and fidgeted with his sleeve. "I always have trouble controlling my, er, urges... but around you it's that much more difficult."

"So, there's something about me in particular that makes you lose control?" Wait, maybe this was a good thing.

"I'm drawn to you," he started, his eyes still averted. "But not in a good way… I'm not supposed to be dating at all."

"But you like me?"

"I do…" His voice was cautious. "Look, I don't want to mess up your life. It's probably better if we pretend this never happened at school on Monday."

Shit! I forgot about fucking school. "Right. Um, usually the popular kid gets the blowjob from the skank before he pretends he doesn't know her at school." I wanted to be bold and grab his cock or do something equally unexpected, but there was a tremble to my voice that belied my snarky tone. "But if you want to skip ahead to the part where you're a complete asshole without having fun first, then I won't stop you."

"Fuck, Bella—"

"You already declined my offer."

"By fuck, I mean shit! I just revealed something astronomical to you. Why are you ridiculing me?"

"Because this conversation is ridiculous. We're using big words and talking about feelings and shit. The last time I checked, Forks wasn't Dawson's Creek." Stepping forward very slowly, I reached up on tiptoe wrapped my arms around his neck, and, to my surprise, he bowed his head against my shoulder and sighed. "I'm not afraid of you."

"You should be," he said darkly.

"Kiss me?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because," he paused, and I could feel his jaw clench against my shoulder. "if I kiss you, I won't be able to stop. I can't afford to lose control around you."

"I can take care of myself."

He drew his head back and pulled my hand into his as if he was going to caress it. Instead he pushed up my sleeve, revealing a long, jagged scar - the telltale sign of the suicide I supposedly attempted.

"I'm not willing to take chances with your life."

-({})-

Men were dicks.

Not true, precisely. Dicks were men. Dicks controlled every thought and impulse, causing their owners to do unseemly things.

Edward acted like he couldn't control himself around me, like his lust could take on a life of its own and destroy me.

Oh, but what a way to go.

It was raining just enough to be annoying by the time I reached the 115, leaving Edward's ghost in my wake. The Olympic fog washed over my windows, and I couldn't help but think of Heathcliff and Catherine - how cruel they were to each other when really, they were in love beyond reason.

But then again, I really fucking hated Wuthering Heights, and even still, this comparison was a perversion of an allegory.

I glared at my eyes in the rearview mirror and nearly dislocated my shoulder wrenching the steering wheel of my car. The tires skidded on the wet, loosely-gravelled road, leading the flatback into a fish-tail fury.

In the darkness, a memory sparked and ignited into flame, like the sudden strike of a match. The monster behind my eyes took shape; even though I was looking straight ahead at the wet highway, his visage was a permanent burn in my brain.

I can't help myself, Isabella.

"You said that before… you said it would stop." I was speaking aloud even though I was addressing a memory.

It doesn't have to, you know. I think it could even feel good if you let it.

"No," I said meekly. In those early days, I thought maybe I had a choice in the matter. It didn't take long for me to learn my best defence: it was better to feign enthusiasm than to be violated.

You can't rape the willing.

My Isabella… I love you so much.

"Then stop."

I can't. I need you too much.

The engine screamed in protest as it gunned, my foot pressing hard down into the pedal.

Terrible things. I did awful, disgusting things.

Renee and Charlie could never know the shit I'd done- had allowed to be done to me. Because, really, I could lie to myself and play the victim, but how could I justify the little moments; how could I bear their implications? Those little, awful, disgusting moments when I turned to the monster and offered kisses and touches of my own volition. Those terrible little moments when I sought the monster out and invited him into my bed.

Who owned the blame? Surely I was culpable for the little moments.

And what about all the pretty things: the phones, the computer, the music, and books? If I was blameless, why did I accept the pretty things?

Why did I still demand them?

Payment. Payment in exchange for silence.

No, that wasn't right. Payment in exchange for sex.

I was a whore.

-({})-

I couldn't feel my feet at all as I gracelessly trotted across Jake's lawn with heavy, determined steps. Everything was dark, so I crept to the side of the tiny house until I found his window. There was a conveniently placed cord of wood underneath.

"Jake!" I yell-whispered and tossed a handful of gravel at the pane.

"Bella?" Jake opened the window and stuck his head out. "What are you doing outside?" He rubbed his fists into his eyes, pulling back the dark hair that fell forward into his face.

See, that was actually a really fucking good question because I hadn't a clue. Listening to my own loneliness, I offered up the only explanation I could fathom. "I need a cuddle," I whispered meekly. "Could you open the window for me?"

"No," he said simply, looking down at the fallen log I was precariously balanced on.

"Okay, sorry." Too tired to sob, I stepped down carefully, still managing to slip and fall on the wet lawn.

"Shit, Bella?"

"I'm fine, Jake. Don't worry, okay?" Fuck, my hand was bleeding a little, the small cut curving around the side of my palm. Tiny cuts. My body was covered in gossamer white scars. They were battle wounds of the unfortunate. In the moonlight they almost shimmered like a constellation of hurt.

"Jeez, Bells. I wasn't gonna make you stay out in the rain." He was smiling at me, the asshole. "You wanted a cuddle?"

"Fuck you!" I yelled eloquently. "No, I don't want a fucking cuddle from you... not when you couldn't even bother to open the window for me."

I tried to run to my truck, but fell several times in the dim front yard, mostly because there was a ridiculous amount of fallen branches littering the lawn. I mean, what the fuck was up with that?

The front door squeaked on its hinges, and the sound Jake's insufferable laughter filled my ears as he jogged over to me (without falling once). He lifted me off the ground, and threw me over his shoulder.

"Put me down!" I used my fists to pummel his lower back. To my chagrin, my ineffectual blows only made him laugh harder. I lifted the hem of his shirt up so I could gain access to his underwear and give him a wedgie.

"I was afraid you'd hurt yourself, dingus. I only meant for you to go around to the door."

"Oh," I said lamely, finding myself hypnotized by his glutes, clenching and unclenching with each step.

"Um, what are you looking at back there?"

"There are badgers fighting in your jeans. I think there's a grape or something in your underwear."

"Oh, really?" he asked mirthfully.

"Yeppers. I think I'll go in for a closer look."

He set me down on my feet and pulled up his pants like a bashful virgin. The fates had aligned to cockblock me again.

"Are you spending the night?" Jake asked absently, while my stomach fluttered with a most surprising nervous energy.

"Um, I dunno." Shrugging my shoulders, I kept my eyes stubbornly fixed on my feet. Staying with Jake was all kinds of stupid, but I felt myself become giddy at the prospect of being cuddled by him. The rest I could handle as long as he would hold me in earnest.

"C'mon." He dragged me back towards the house, snickering every time I nearly tripped over another stupid fallen branch.

The door screamed again, whereas I could not.

I bit my lip, and keeping my head lowered, I sneaked a peek at his face through my lashes. He was so fucking calm I wanted to kick him.

"Are you afraid of something?" He cupped his palm beneath my chin.

"No," I said, but my voice totally cracked. "I mean… no." Jeez! I felt like such a schmuck.

"Spit it out, Bella. What's got your panties in a bunch?" He ruffled my hair like I was a child. It made sense; I was acting like one.

"I have some questions for you before I agree to anything. There are certain concessions I'm not willing to make unless…" Shit, I forgot to breathe. "Unless I understand how we define this."

"You're speaking 'girl' to me, Bella. Translation, please?"

"This," I repeated, motioning wildly between the two of us. "What are we?"

He pounded on his chest like Tarzan and said, "Me Jake, you Bells."

"Okay, your IQ must be at least this high to get on this ride." I motioned to a spot somewhere near his muscular pecs.

"Well, ask a stupid question, expect a stupid answer." Jake's entire upper body was shaking with laughter. I idly considered kicking him in the nuts.

"Am I your girlfriend?" This time I looked straight at him.

"Bella," he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a wide grin. "There's nothing in this world that would make me happier."

"Really? Like, you want us to be… like, a couple." Why the fuck was I speaking like a Valley Girl, or worse, a Canadian?

"Of course! What the fuck, Bells? I've been your bitch for the last four years. Jeez, the guys make fun of me all the time because instead of going out and drinking with them, I've been glued to my computer in hopes that you'll tweet me or ping me."

"You were waiting to be pinged by me?" I was astonished by this revelation.

"Yes, sweetheart. I only ever want to be pinged by you."

"Have you ever, um, been pinged by anyone else?"

"Er, not exactly, no."

"So… you've never pinged before?"

"Um, I've pinged myself a whole lot."

"So…" I trailed off.

"So," he said firmly.

"Should we… I guess, maybe get into your bed?"

"Are you tired?" He wrapped his arms carefully around my back. "Cold? You're shaking so much." He walked us both over to the couch, which creaked with his weight when he lay down, drawing me against his chest. "Get comfortable," he said soothingly in my ear. He was so warm. Rolling into a fetal position alongside his massive body, I snuggled my cheek against his chest, feeling the rhythmic beating of his heart through his shirt.

"So... do you think we should fuck?"

"Was that an offer?" Jake's arms tightened around me. I was pretty sure I could feel his cock becoming rigid against my thigh.

"Um, yeah, I guess…"

"C'mon, Bells." He laughed and collected my hair into a make-shift bun with his hands. "I just want to kiss you, okay?" He mouth was so soft and warm against the back of my neck as he gently sucked and kissed my skin.

"Is that what you think of while pinging yourself… kissing?" I gasped and then let out a god awful squeak-moan.

"Well, no. I think about other stuff too."

"Jenna Jameson?"

"Not porn!"

"Oh my god, you're such a liar. All guys like porn."

"Not this one," he said stubbornly.

I pulled away from his surprisingly skilled mouth, remembering I had another important question for him.

"What was that shit Billy was going on about… imprinting?"

"Crap, he told you about that?" he groaned.

"Well, yeah. He said that your people imprint, and I got the impression he doesn't think I'm, like, imprint material or whatever."

"It's a load of shit." Jake didn't often get angry, but I saw his hands squeeze into fists and his tendons shudder beneath his skin.

"Well, Billy seemed really serious about it."

"That's because he thinks he's experienced it." His voice was bitter. I pulled away so I could watch him speak.

"With your mom?"

"No," Jake said darkly. "Someone else."

"Well, why didn't he marry her then?"

"Because he was already married… to my mother."

Well, fuck. "I'm sorry… I shouldn't have asked."

"Why he would have the audacity to talk about that shit with you is beyond me."

"I guess he was trying to make it clear that I'm not the one for you. Actually, I should probably go. I don't think Billy wants me in the house."

"No, Bella, don't you see?"

I shook my head because I really fucking did not see.

"He's protecting you from me. He thinks that I'll fuck around on you if our union isn't an imprint."

"Jeez. That's the lamest excuse for infidelity I've ever heard."

"I know, right? He was just looking for a mystical reason, an excuse, for why he cheated, essentially killing my mother."

"Wait, how did that kill her?"

Jake didn't say anything. He clenched his jaw, holding tension in his mouth. Even though he refused to speak any further on the matter, I was certain he thought his mother's leukemia was borne out of grief. That shit didn't fly with me. Cancer is cruel and indiscriminate.

Rolling onto my stomach, I said the only think I could think of to soothe him. "I trust you, Jake. I know you'd never do that to me." Now that we had declared ourselves to each other, there was no way I'd allow myself to be alone with Edward again.

A/N - I feel the need to remind y'all this is an Edward/Bella fic. Trust me! Do you think if Stephie Meyer had posted New Moon chapter-by-chapter, she'd have had an author's note promising Eddie would be back? Imagine the flames!

Every time you review me I get off.