I couldn't get this out of my mind all day, and after I finished my book (City of Lost Souls: Random A/N I really do like the TMI series, but I lost interest after City of Glass was supposed to be the last one...still reading all of them, just because I love Clace and always follow through on an entire series (example: House of Nigh Series *cough cough* money hungry *cough cough*) but a series I will never tire of is the Morganville Vampires..Check it out!) Ooh long A/N...anyways..Enjoy, my lovelies... :D BTW IT'S NOT A FILLER CHAPTER..BAM! *smirk* you're welcome.


Waking up with Bella cocooned in his arms—well as cocooned as she could be when he was wearing a sling—was the best morning of his life. Her dark hair spilled over the pillowcase and curled over her shoulders. Her lips were parted, pink and possibly a little swollen from their electric kisses last night. Her eyelashes rested in the hollows beneath her eyes, and her chest rose and fell evenly with the soft snores slipping from her mouth. Edward bit his lip, his fingers playing with the tips of her hair. She looked like an angel, her palms pressed against his chest, fingers curling over his shoulders. He wouldn't mind waking up like this forever.

He silently mused that the Edward that used girls for fulfillment no longer resided inside of him. The Edward brought out by this majestic brown-haired girl had kicked him out the moment she stepped onto that field. Did she remember four years ago? When they had only been kids? He cursed under his breath, realizing she probably did. He'd come into her room and left her. Not because he wanted to, not because he didn't care, but because he was leaving for football in a few weeks and couldn't afford to become too attached to someone. He knew that if he had stayed with Bella, he would have never had the strength to pack his bags and ship out to Green Bay and play professional football, something that had been his dream since he was young. Hek, his first word had been touchdown. He regretted not being there when she woke, not saying goodbye to the perfect princess that lay next to him now. He regretted not giving her a chance, not connecting with her and begging her to come with, but fate intervened again and threw them back together. He especially regretted the hastily scrawled not he placed on her nightstand, ready to greet her and ruin her day when she awoke. He had been such a jerk back then, his teenage brain only really wanting two things: sex and a clean break. Since he didn't get the first, he stole the second, not giving her the opportunity to challenge him.

She stirred, mumbling words to low for him to hear. He tightened his arms around her and watched her eyelids flutter open. Those deep brown eyes got to him every time, striking down into his soul. He watched her register his face and gasp quietly, propping herself up on an elbow, gaze flickering between his eyes. "What happened?" she asked cautiously, her voice neutral, expression guarded. She looked so different from the vulnerable girl who had been sleeping. Edward didn't say anything, and she immediately went to the extreme. "Oh, no, no, no. That wasn't supposed to happen. We weren't supposed to sleep—"

Edward put her out of her misery. "That's all we did, Bella. We slept." She put a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes, exhaling heavily before kicking the covers off. She stood up hastily, nearly tipping over in her hurry. Edward opened his mouth and reached out for her.

"I don't want your help," she snapped, striding toward the door in just her panties and one of Edward's big t-shirts. Edward sat frozen in the bed, watching her rest her hand on the cool metal of the doorknob. Her head was bowed as she stood there for a moment, gaze locked on her toes. Her hair served as a veil between her and Edward, and he hated that he couldn't see her face, that he couldn't read everything in her eyes—not that she'd ever been easy to read. He was nearly breathless when she lifted her head, the hair giving way to an expression of complete and utter serenity, though her eyes were hollow, lifeless. Her voice was soft, barely a whisper, but the words she said reigned loud and clear, echoing in his brain even after she closed the door behind her. "At least this time, you didn't leave."


Yay! Two Chapters in two days :)…don't complain about length...You get two updates in two days...REJOICE!..so you've read now review…HAHA JK…there's more :) Stupid Rant for nothing...oh well (I'm in a weird mood...must be the popcorn I just ate...)

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After several moments of being frozen in bed, he dropped his face into his hands, cursing replacement expletives into his fingers. (A/N: Gosh darn son of a potato, etc…) He was suddenly overwhelmed by the quiet in his room, and he pulled himself out of bed, painfully shoving his arms into a hoodie, though his bad one was still encased in the fabric, cradled against the hard planes of his stomach. He needed to get out of the house, to clear his mind from everything.

He pulled his phone from his nightstand. After finding the name in his contacts, he held the electronic up to his ear, listening to the beeping as it dialed and then the painfully slow ringing noises. He was just about to give up after the fifth ring when there was a soft click followed by a groggy, "Hello?" Edward couldn't help the smile that broke across his face. He chatted with the voice on the other end of the phone for less than a minute before hanging up.

He pulled on a pair of gym shorts and peeped out the window, startled by the rain drizzling down the windowpane. It didn't matter to him though. He snatched his keys from the dresser and his cleats from the floor, hanging them over his shoulder by their knotted laces. They bounced familiarly against his back, and for a moment, he forgot about his collar bone, about Emmett, about Bella. He felt peaceful, trotting across the room and yanking the door open. There was an unfamiliar pang in his chest as he glanced silently down the hall toward Isabella's closed and locked door. He brushed it off though, telling himself that it was just because she was the first girl that had ever rejected him. He strode to the kitchen, seeing the orange case of painkillers. The pain in his shoulder had dulled to a slow burn, most likely from those meds he'd been given from the doctor, but he chose to forego the bottle today, wanting to suffer for what he'd done to Bella.

He walked nimbly through the rest of the house, finding himself positioned in front of the steering wheel of his Lincoln. His resolve cracked as he saw his reflection in the rearview mirror. A purple bruise blossomed out across his jaw, somewhat resembling the shape of Emmett's knuckles. The edges were beginning to fade, lightening into the standard, sickly yellow hue. He didn't mind that, he had received plenty of battle wounds, and for some sick reason, he liked them. It was that male bravado, that you-should-see-the-other-guy feeling. He wore bruises and gashes with pride, though the sling was a little much. He would have felt more macho going sans sling and slamming into his enemies, namely James, with his shoulder, spitting into their injured faces that he did all that with a broken clavicle.

No, what hurt him was a little lower, the little marks butterflying on his throat, the valley where his shoulder melted into his neck. He could feel Bella's lips against him, suckling his skin desperately enough to leave those marks. He threw the car into drive, eager to get to where he was going. He couldn't take it anymore. The babying of his family, the coldness of Bella—everything had him feeling weak, vulnerable. He wasn't supposed to feel things. That's why he was a football player. Everything in the stadium was different; he was different. He hit people without feeling guilt. He made mistakes and brushed them off, light as a feather. He couldn't feel pain, at least during the game when he had a strange, euphoric high. The only thing he felt while his cleats dug into the perfectly green grass was resentment, resentment for everyone on that field that wore a different color jersey than he did. That's why he was good at what he did. That's why people all around the United States cheered his name, wore his number, swooned over his looks, hated him. That's why he succeeded. That's why he had no doubt that his team could earn the Packer's fifth Superbowl title. He didn't need Bella as a distraction. He couldn't afford it.

So by the time he was pulling into his marked parking spot at the Packer's practice field, he found himself wondering, Bella who?


Bella

"Dang it," she muttered angrily. He had no right to make her feel that way. To make her melt under his touch, to make her stomach swarm with butterflies, to make heat flare through her entire body. He had no right. She had stormed from his room before he could see the pain etched across her face, before he could attempt to fix the holes he had burned in her heart. She had felt something that night about four years ago, something that seemed like an echo of last night. It was tragic, really, falling for someone that only fell when he was tackled. She crawled into her bed, which was vacant of Edward's warmth and care. A few tears slipped from her eyes, but she forced herself not to cry for long. She wouldn't mourn a love she never had.

Bella wasn't the type to wallow in self pity. Whenever she was knocked over, she'd dust herself off and move on. Just like after that one night with Edward, when her simple-minded teenage brain had thought she'd found love and he'd left. When Jessica and Angela swarmed her with questions of that night, she merely waggled her eyebrows, leaving their overactive imaginations to fill in the rest. She'd come to terms with the fact that she got burned, but kissing Edward like that brought it all back. And this time he didn't leave. "Probably because it was his room," she mumbled, sliding to a seated position behind her closed door and tangling her fingers into her hair.

She felt the ache all over again, the eagerness to see his mesmerizing green eyes, the plummet of her stomach when she felt indent in the sheets where he had slumbered was cold. She even allowed herself to finally conjure up the worst part of the memory. She hadn't even remembered this last night, having shoved it so deeply into the recesses of her mind that she nearly had forgotten it completely. It was his bar tab from that night, folded perfectly in half with her name written elegantly across the front, in looping, graceful script that looked like it had leapt out from the very beginning of the twentieth century.

With tear-filled eyes and shaking knees, she crossed her room in Edward's house, flipping open the lid of her unpacked suitcase and fingering the worn paper she'd tucked in her delicates. She dropped it abruptly as if it had scalded her fingers. She didn't want to open it again, to read the words that would shoot a dagger right through any eighteen-year-old girl's heart. She shut her suitcase, hiding the note from Edward and everything else beneath the plain black cover. Her breathing faltered, her fingers quaking as she wrung her hands together. Maybe he had changed. She'd registered hurt in his features when she'd stung him with her words, but she knew very well that he was a good actor. She clamped her hand over her mouth to hold in the whimper that threatened to escape. She didn't want to feel weak, least of all because of Edward Cullen.

Her girlishness made her want to vomit. She was Isabella Marie Swan, the girl who wrestled with her brothers and won, the girl who played with the worms while fishing with Charlie, the girl who could beat anyone that dared to challenge her in a game of poker. She was Bella, ferocious fighter. No one was going to bring her down, ever. She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, and she took a moment to collect herself before flipping it open. "Hey, Em," she said, using a fair amount of effort to keep her voice even.

"Belly-B," he breathed, relief flooding into his voice. He hadn't used her nickname since they were children, and it made her smile. She sniffled almost inaudibly and wiped her eyes. "Am I…are we…are you still—" Bella rolled her eyes, thankful that her brother couldn't see through the cell phone.

"Emmett, I forgive you for your overprotective, brotherly instincts." She heard a gust of air as he presumably exhaled the breath he'd been holding. She giggled quietly, muffling the sound with her fingertips.

"Oh, thank God. I thought I was going to be in the doghouse forever." Bella let out a full-blown snort, hearing Emmett's roaring chuckle from the other side of the phone.

"It was two days, bro. Two days!" Emmett's chuckle grew louder, until ultimately dying down, his voice returning to normal. Bella scratched behind her ear, wondering what to say next. Her and her brother were never really talkative over the phone. Both much preferred face-to-face interaction.

"So…you know that cheerleader that I've been seeing…?" His voice drew out the question, as if he was nervous.

"Rosalie?" Emmett and Rosalie had been dating ever since his pro football career had began. The first game he'd come rushing up to Bella and pointed to the extremely blond cheerleader, grinning triumphantly while saying, "She's going to be mine someday, just you wait." There were various pictures of Emmett blowing kisses to the bubbly, charismatic girl while he was supposed to be playing.

"Yeah." His reply came immediately, but it was quiet and followed by nothing. This must mean that it was really serious. Bella waited a moment, wondering how to reassure him that she was his sister and wouldn't judge, though she really didn't hope that she was pregnant. Emmett knew what his father thought of children before Marriage. Emmett was one, and though Charlie never regretted having him, he wished he had married my mother before, a thing he often repeated to his children over the years. The thought of the three Swan children all together made Bella's heart ache for Jasper.

"What about her?" she asked slowly, her voice showing no sign of the nervousness that had bloomed in her chest, unfurling in a big wave of anxiousness for him to just spit out the words. The other end of the line was quiet, except for the even but accelerated breathing of her brother. She sank onto the bed and swung her legs absentmindedly, quiet as she waited for Emmett to tell her the big secret.

"I am going to ask her to marry me." His replay finally came, and even though he had seemed panicky and worried about sharing the news, the words were firm and sure, the love he felt for Rosalie resounding off Bella's eardrums and filling her with joy for her brother.

"That's great, Emmett!" She hoped she'd poured the correct amount of enthusiasm into her words, and by Emmett's laughter, she knew she had. Too bad she couldn't reflect that gusto into her expression. Her face was sullen, her lips tipped downward, eyelids droopy, hair limply falling around her face. She bit her lip, aggravated that Edward had this effect on her.

"I want you to be there when I do," he said abruptly, pulling Bella out of her musings. Her eyebrows furrowed. Weren't declarations of love and requests of holy matrimony supposed to be personal and romantic? She asked Emmett just that, though using a lighter, suggesting tone. Emmett's chortle told her she was wrong. "Well, I guess for everyone else, that is how they are supposed to be. But Rosalie likes everything showy. She likes an audience, and an audience she will get." Rosalie did like to be in the spotlight, and I was actually impressed at how acutely aware Emmett was of Rosalie's likes and wants. He'd never put much thought into his relationships before, but he now often called me to help decide where he should take Rosalie on dates, what he should cook her, what he should buy her, if the flowers he'd chosen were appropriate.

"Good job, big brother," Bella said, a genuine smile on her face. "I'm proud of you." They said their goodbyes soon after that, and Bella was left with the sinking feeling that her own love life was failing, that she was sinking deeper and deeper into the hole that inevitably led to the gray-haired lady that lived with like a hundred cats and had no one to visit her. She rubbed her temples, picking herself up and dragging herself into the shower.

She undressed slowly, waiting until an adequate amount of steam was rolling out from over the glass shower door and collecting in fog against the mirror. She stepped in, the droplets racing in wet paths down her skin. She tilted her head back into the spray and massaged soap through her tendrils, trying to ignore a nagging feeling that tugged on her heart. She didn't think she loved Edward yet, but her heart surely thought that she shouldn't take this so lightly. She was definitely attentive to the fact that Edward was someone that she could be capable of loving, but was he capable of loving her back? She didn't know. Scrubbed herself with a pink loofa sponge, something Carlisle and Esme must have stocked in her bathroom, having told her that all the toiletries would be provided for her. They never said by whom, though. A blush crept up her neck at the possibility that Edward may have picked this out, maybe even for some other girl that had spent the night at his house, being touched by him, loved by him. Suddenly, she wanted every trace of Edward off her skin. She wanted to rid herself of his soft touches, of his warm embraces, of everything. She scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin was pink and smooth and until she was satisfied that he was no longer on her. Then she stayed in the heated water long after the bubbles had swirled down the drain, just to be sure.

She stepped into a fluffy towel a long while later, mystified that the water had never run cold, something that had been her shower timer when she lived at home. She tugged a comb through her tangled locks and brushed her teeth, the bristles harsh against her gums, her lips numb and swollen from last night. She spit the minty foam into the sink, rinsing out her mouth and hopefully Edward along with it. She felt somewhat refreshed, though she still felt that slow, dull burning in her chest.

No matter how much she didn't want to see his emotional green eyes, his tousled-to-perfection bronze hair, she knew she had to grow up and do her job. That's all this was—her job. "If only it was that easy," she shared with her reflection that now appeared as the steam melted away from the mirror. She tossed the towel in the hamper and pulled on her jeans and a Packers' t-shirt. She might as well look the part if she was attempting to play the part. With a calming breath and some chapstick, she slunk out the door and tapped sheepishly on Edward's closed door, wondering what he was doing still in his room. He was probably sleeping off last night if she had to guess. She chose to leave him alone and skipped carefully down the stairs, fully aware that she was in no way and never would be graceful.

She popped the top of Edward's pills when she got to the kitchen and grabbed the prescribed amount. She rummaged through the cabinets, finding a glass and filling it with cool water. She carried the two items up the stairs, using slower, less jerky movements as to not spill the water all over herself. No need to look like she couldn't make it to the bathroom after angrily leaving his room. She made it to the top without making a mess of herself and gently pushed open the door, unused to having doors glide silently on their hinges when at her father's house she had to sneak out via window. "Edward," she said quietly into the expanse of the room. When there was no reply, she stuck her head around the door. It was empty. The bathroom door was open, so she knew that he wasn't in there. Her thoughts strengthened by the unsettling silence of the place. Edward almost always had music playing, or so Esme had said, when asking Bella if she was opposed to having sounds during the night. She, of course, wasn't.

Bella carefully set the glass of water, but shoved the pills into her pocket. Edward's keys were missing from his dresser. He had left the house. She sprinted to the stairwell, fear gripping her chest. Had she hurt him that badly? Was he making bad choices? Gosh, she sounded like a paranoid mother. She ran down the steps, faster than she should have, since her foot caught on the last one, and she went sprawling forward. Her hair flew around her, and her fall was in slow-motion, a cracking noise as the side of her face connected with the hardwood. Lucky for her, she was used to falling, so she was used to the pain. Her shoulder was stiff and hurt a little, but it was probably just stunned. Shoulder pain. The thought was loud and prominent. She knew where he was.


Edward

The field felt perfect beneath his feet, the perfect amount of cushion and traction. It didn't matter to him that the raindrops were collecting in his hair and on his cheeks. It didn't even matter that in his time of need he'd called a boy he didn't really like. He needed this—needed to feel the ball in his hands, needed to reassure himself that he could actually do something, that his career wasn't over. At first his shoulder had protested. It had hurt so badly that he cried out into the air, Jake's eyes following the ball as it tumbled from his grasp. "Tsk, tsk, Edward. You've become a sparkling, little girl because of this injury. And it's only been what…two days? Line it up again, 21." Edward grunted in response, chucking the slick ball back to the dark-skinned boy and getting into his position again. "Hut!"

Edward took off. Fake left, go right. His internal voice guided him easily through the plays, but his body didn't respond like it usually did. Pumping his arms hurt, so he in turn had to pump harder, put more effort into it to simply get to the spot. And then catching the ball was a complete other task. He'd dropped it five times in a row, and as this one dropped two inches in front of his fingertips, Jake called out in a loud condescending voice, "Six, Cullen!" Edward scrubbed his hands over his face, shifting his gaze toward where Bella would be sitting if this were a real practice. But it wasn't, and he had to forget about her.

He lined up again, a new-found vigor coursing though his veins. Even her name could get him all riled up. She was his own personal drug. She could lift his spirit up and make him forget the world, and that was something he couldn't forget. He easily maneuvered the play, snatching the ball effortlessly as he soared toward the end zone. He let out a loud whoop as he crossed the white line, seen Jake's white smile from the other end of the field. "Welcome back, Superstar. Now, again." Edward jogged back to Jacob, a goofy grin pulling at his lips. He really could do this. He really could play. Hut! He took off again, his cleats slipping in the grass but not hindering his agility and speed.

He was in his element, completely in the zone. This was who he was, who he was meant to be. Sure, his father was an acclaimed doctor, sure his mother had been a successful lawyer, but he wasn't meant to be something boring, something intellectual. He wasn't given his looks and his talents to sit behind a desk or be only viewed by the sickly. No, Edward Anthony Mason Cullen was meant to be put up on Jumbotrons. He was meant to be celebrated, adored. He didn't need love when he had all the devoted fans he wanted. Any girl in the stands on game days would be eager to satisfy his needs, and maybe even a few men...well, if he swung that way. Edward was meant to be the poster child for something great, something bigger than his father's appointments or surgeries, something bigger than his good-for-nothing mother's cases. He was Edward Cullen. Wearing number 21 on the green and white jerseys, he was the Packer's starting wide receiver. He was famous.

The ball was securely in his scarred hands before an angry voice echoed off the walls, making him jump and fumble the ball. "Edward! What the hek are you doing?"


Bella

If Bella could have dragged that boy off the field by his ear, she would have. Her face was as red as a tomato, when she stomped across the field. "Bell," Jake started, and no matter how much Bella loved her childhood friend, she couldn't be bothered with sill pet names right now.

"Go home, Jake," she growled between gritted teeth, deadly gaze still locked on Edward's deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression. She heard him begin to protest, but made a dramatic sweeping gesture toward the door, hearing Jacob's feet crunch in the grass as he conceded. She thrust her hands on her hips and willed Edward's scattered gaze to hers. The way he lifted his hands up guiltily only made her angrier. "Edward! What were you thinking? My job is to keep you safe. My job! If I fail, I'll be living on the streets. Homeless!" She knew that was an exaggeration, but she wanted to make him feel bad.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I just wanted to feel important again." Bella released a disbelieving laugh.

"Important? Edward, it's important to thousands of fans that you heal! That you can carry the team through playoffs!" His kissable lips tilted up into a smirk. Did she just describe his lips a kissable? Oh yeah, she was screwed. "What?" she asked exasperatedly, though her voice wavered slightly when he stepped closer.

"You think I carry the team?" He bit his lip adorably, and Bella's knees wobbled. He only falls when he's tackled. Only falls when tackled. Only falls when tackled. Only falls when tackled. She repeated over and over in her head. It would be her new mantra. She'd have it tattooed to her arm if she couldn't remember it.

"Well, um, according to, um, Emmett," she rubbed the back of her neck nervously, keeping her eyes down, "you are a crucial element in winning." She finally looked up, seeing that panty-dropping smirk still plastered on his face.

"I see, and the only people I'm important to are my fans?" She could see the glint of mischief sparkling in his green eyes, and her face heated, though this time not from anger.

"Well, no, you're important to the team and, um, the coach and, um, the hotdog vendors—"

"The hotdog vendors? Seriously, Bella?" She looked down bashfully, scuffing her shoe in the damp grass of the field. The torrent raged around them, whipping Bella's hair into her eyes and merely mussing Edward's more perfectly, if that was even possible. Her shirt was soaked and clung to her skin, and wet locks of hair plastered themselves to her cheeks and neck.

"Well, yeah. Without games they would have no fans to sell their goods to and—"

"God, Bella. Am I not important to you?" She blushed more furiously, her face almost resembling the rogue color of the darkest blush available in Walmart. Her gaze danced around the field as she avoided the truth.

"Yeah. You are my job. I have to make you one of my top priorities."

"Bella, you know that I don't mean it like that—"

"Why did you leave that night four years ago?" She couldn't help it. Her countering question burst from her lips before it could be stopped, though it didn't seem to faze Edward, who remained silent. She plunged forward anyways. "Why did you leave me with that stupid not that said, and I quote, 'I will never fall in love.' Now you have the audacity to stand there and happily ask if you are important to me!"

Bella finally allowed her gaze to rest on his face, and the smile there made her stomach churn. "Is that a yes?" His voice was laced with humor, but she sensed a serious undertone. She mashed her lips together.

"God, Edward. You are so immature and self-centered and, and—" His mouth against hers broke her train of thought. Her eyes were open, and she was repulsed by her body's automatic reaction to lean toward him, by her need to be closer to him, by her want to melt into him and never have to be alone again. Mustering all her strength, she shoved him away, shouting very vulgar, very unladylike words in his face. His hands immediately grabbed hers, which were wildly gesturing every which way in an attempt to make her words slice harder. She stopped when she saw the look on his face. Was that, was that remorse in his eyes? So Edward Cullen did feel things after all. Who knew? She wrenched her fingers from his and watched his arms fall to his sides.

"Bella, leaving you that night was the worst mistake of my life."

"Yeah, well then why did you do it?"

"I was scared." His eyes were trained on the ground, and she just wanted him to look her in the eyes, make her believe that it was true.

She snorted unkindly. "Edward Cullen, professional football player that gets tackled by guys three times his size. Edward Cullen, uncaring prick that's scared of falling for a girl that's less than half his size. Who are you? You can't be both."

He was silent for a moment, as if processing her words, though her looked slightly offended by the term prick. He lifted his head, and his eyes flickered between hers, before settling on her right one. "But I am." He reached out and gently gripped Bella's shoulders, standing nearly a head taller than her. "I was afraid of something so real. My parents never had a good relationship and what else was I supposed to know of love? There was fighting and screaming and crying all the time at my house. How was I supposed to know it could be different? I didn't want that for myself, but more importantly, I didn't want that for you. I didn't want you to see the rage I saw in my father's eyes when my mother would come home drunk with a man latched to her hip. I didn't want to be like my father, but I thought it was inevitable." Bella's mouth opened and closed, curious but not ready to forgive.

He continued, unnerved by her speechlessness. "I left because I knew I would be leaving soon for football anyways. I didn't want you to lose sight of your dreams for me, whatever they were. I didn't know you very well—I still would like to know you better—and even back then I didn't want to drag you down." Bella continued to toe the ground. "Say something, Bella. Please." He was pleading with her, begging her to say the words he needed to hear, to give him her forgiveness. Tears stung her eyes as she said the three words that had been nagging at her heart for four years, full out punching their way out of her mouth after his speech.

"You still left."


Pretty sure this is my longest update ever...you're welcome...sorry for the mistakes...you know...I could revise my writing...but that would mean it could take me hours, possibly days, to update...and we wouldn't want that...now would we ;) So...what did you think? How was the multi-POV chapter...I might do that sometimes...do you mind? And now...we will be building Bedward's...Edella's...*sigh* Edward and Bella's (much better...screw couple's names...) relationship! Whoooo and I got EMMETT AND ROSALIE IN THERE! WHOOOOOOO! next is Jasper and Alice (sparks fly at the engagement dinner *winky winky*) Jeez I'm strange...and props for you if you're reading all this!

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