'You are the sun and moon and stars, are you,
and I could never run away from you...'

'You' - Radiohead


Dearest Diary,

I relate more to Sylvia Plath than a teenage girl perhaps should. I was looking through my room today, becoming re-acquainted with the changes that transpired since I left (namely, the absence of any and all illegal paraphernalia and/or their reminders) and came across a bound journal with 'Bella's Favorite Quotes' written in the front cover. Flipping through, I could remember some entries better than others and the reason 'why' hit me all at once.

In some, my penmanship was the usual loopy handwriting-printing amalgam so recognizable from my schoolwork. In others, it was strange chicken-scratch, a frenzied and almost angry scrawl.

Those were the times I'd been faded.

One common thread linked all the entries together, however: each was a quotation I'd connected to. Some were from books or movies, others from songs. Today, I'd like to share with you one of my favorites. In the words of the great Miss Plath...

"God, but life is loneliness, despite the opiates, the shrill tinsel gaiety of parties with no purpose, the false grinning faces we all wear."

Until next time,
Bella


School passes by in a blur: for others, plans for the fast-approaching Homecoming dance and homework; for me, in pop quizzes and excuses and pills.

Lots and lots of pills.

I go through Charlie's daily allotted portion like they're nothing. I have the brief thought that perhaps I should be cutting back, setting a couple aside to stockpile for when he finally decides to cut me off once and for all.

It's just impossible. Not with the constant stares and never-ending stream of hushed whispers that follow me every minute of everyday I spend in that absolute hell-hole. My only solace is Alice and Rosalie, and even Emmett. They keep me just on the cusp of sanity when I feel as if I'll snap.

Today, for example. Mike relayed the details of his latest party to Jessica, who eagerly ate up every word, thirsty for drama. I'd hung back, munching slowly on a carrot stick and wishing I could just sink into Rose's faux-fur cheetah-print coat when the subject of my being there was brought up.

"You were there?" Jessica sneered, her face twisting into an almost-grimace.

"She was," Alice chirped, busying herself with twisting a small lock of my hair into a delicate little braid. "Problem?"

"Not at all," Jess smiled, all bleached teeth and insincerity. "Just shocked, is all. I thought you didn't do that kind of thing anymore."

"She can do whatever the fuck she wants to," Rose piped up, arching a brow. Emmett stiffened, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. She shrugged it off and seemed to ignore completely the brief flash of hurt that crossed his face.

I, unfortunately, couldn't - and sent a small smile his way. He returned it easily, dimples on full display, and I envied him for his easy ability to bounce back.

"I know that, Rosalie," Jessica snapped and oh, that was the wrong thing to say…

"I don't think I like your attitude," Rose retorted, standing from the table and placing her palms on the surface, leaning forward in one swift move.

"Rose," I piped up, laying a hand atop her's. "Stop. Please."

She had, but I knew that was only the tip of the iceberg for Rosalie's mood today. She'd been on-edge all week, and this certainly wasn't the first of her little outbursts - nor was it the last.

Later that day, as I sat in French with Alice, both of our phones buzzed simultaneously. We stopped, looking up from our silent work and directly at each other.

"Do you want me to look?" Alice whispered, eyes flitting to Mademoiselle Goff as she sat at her desk, book in hand.

"No, I've got it."

I plucked my phone from my bag and kept it low, resting in my lap. With a quick unlock and a few swipes, I was on Rosalie's message. What it contained made my heart sink.

"She got kicked out of class," I breathed, and Alice sighed heavily. "She wants us to meet her by the bleachers."

"Now?" Alice hissed and I swallowed and nodded, glancing at the clock. There was still nearly twenty-five minutes left in the period. "Can't she wait?"

Our phones buzzed again, and I grimaced at the one word that said a thousand more on my screen.

Please.

Alice took one look and her hand was up. My eyes widened in alarm and she discreetly leaned in, whispering, "quick, look green."

I clamped a hand over my mouth, doing my best 'I'm-going-to-vom' impression as Alice sharply called Goff's name.

"Oui, Alice?" she said, raising her eyes from her novel and gasping once she saw me. "Oh, my God! Bella, n'es-tu pas bien?"

"Non, Mademoiselle Goff. Pouvons-nous aller voir l'infirmière?" Alice spoke, her pronunciation flawless.

"Yes, yes. Tout suite!"

More eyes on me, I could feel them, but I focused on nothing but completely ignoring them in our haste. Grabbing both our bags, Alice ushered us out of the door, keeping our pace swift until we were around the corner - definitely the opposite direction from the school nurse's office.

Wordlessly, we made the short trek from the languages wing of the school, cutting through the arts wing toward the Gym and outside to the field. I averted my eyes as we passed directly by the Theater room, all too certain I would be missing that class today... once again.

Rosalie was easy to find, even without the tell-tale puff of smoke that signaled her like a beacon. Directly in the middle of the tall bleachers, two rows down from the announcer's box and dead-center, she was the picture of an adolescent rebel in her faux-fur, joint in hand. The musky-green smell of marijuana permeated the air around her as we approached, footsteps clanking against the metal seats on our incline.

"Took you two long enough," she grumbled, taking another puff of her joint. I held my breath, stopping on the rung below her as Alice sat herself delicately right beside the blonde.

"We left as soon as we could, Rose," Alice sighed, reaching out for the spliff and expertly balancing it between her index and middle finger. "You could at least say thank you, you ungrateful bitch."

"Thank you, you ungrateful bitch," she said in response, punctuating it with a comically slow and lazy grin. Alice snorted and knocked shoulders with her, puffing once, twice. Rosalie raised a brow at me. "You coming up here or what, princess?"

I toed the metal beneath me with the tip of my boot, eyes to the ground, trying to ignore the hot, hot heat that was quickly rising up my neck at the thick smoke surrounding us.

"I'm good over here…"

When I looked up from beneath my curtain of hair, Rosalie was blinking at me. She regarded me with a curious expression, blindly reaching out for the joint and taking a quick pull once she'd received it back from Alice. She blew the cloud directly toward me, and I couldn't stop my grimace.

"Fuck," she choked, coughing a bit on the residual smoke. Alice patted her back. "Fuck, B, I'm sorry - I didn't even realize..."

Alice looked between us for a moment, a furrow marring the space between her brows… and then recognition hit her, all at once.

"The weed! God, I'm sorry! I didn't think…" she squeaked, pinching the object in question from Rose's fingers and snuffing it out quickly. She waved her hands wildly, cheeks puffing in and out in great gusts of air as she tried to blow away the remaining haze. "I forgot, I… it all just felt so normal, I didn't even…"

"It's alright," I sighed, forcing a smile. Rosalie had her face hidden in her hands, shoulders shaking, and I honestly couldn't tell if she was laughing or crying. I stepped up, sinking down to sit on her other side and placing a hand on her back. "It's really fine. I'm sorry I'm such a Debbie Downer."

Rosalie lifted her head, and I could finally discern what she was feeling - because she actually was laughing. I tilted my head, lips twitching despite myself as she covered her mouth and tried to hide her giggles.

"I'm sorry, Bella," she managed. "We just keep… we keep fucking up!"

I couldn't really see what was so funny about that, but I supposed laughing was better than crying. So after a brief, concerned glance toward Alice, I found myself laughing, too.

Soon, we were all dissolving into fits of giggles, leaning on each other for support as they turned into snorts, and snorts into howls.

The rest of the afternoon passed in much the same way, though with the absence of any controlled substances. Rosalie didn't bring up the reason she'd been kicked out of class and we didn't ask, because that's just how things worked with her. We talked and laughed and when the last period Phys. Ed. class came out to run laps, we giggled over how Mike couldn't stop adjusting his gym shorts any time Jessica jogged by, fake tits a-bouncing.

Throughout all of that, there was an odd strain of tension between Rosalie and I. I'd felt it a few times this week, but now it seemed as if something were really coming to a head. I certainly knew my main point of contention with her, but I wasn't entirely sure of her's.

When the last bell rang, Alice shouldered her bag and motioned toward the parking lot.

"I've got to get going. I need to head down to Rodeo… Mommy Dearest needs me there for her fitting," Alice sighed. "She's absolutely hopeless when it comes to the intricacies of perfecting a custom Dior gown. You're both more than welcome, of course."

I pursed my lips, and Rosalie cleared her throat. Neither of us were set to be moving from these spots for quite a while.

"You go on ahead, Allie. I'm going to hang here and watch Emmett's practice."

Alice huffed, crossing her arms. "And you, B? There'll be chocolate-covered strawberries… I know you can't resist those."

I snorted, though my tummy rumbled a bit at the thought.

"I'm good, too. Sorry… I think I'll stay and keep Rose company for a while, yeah?"

Alice looked like she was about to retort, but something in my expression must have shut her up. She sighed and stiffly nodded.

"Okay. Well, if you ladies are free later, don't hesitate to drop by, alright?"

"Yes, Alice," we both droned simultaneously, snorting at the monotone of our voices.

"Okay, good. Kisses, bitches," she sang, leaning down to smack loud, wet smooches on both of our cheeks. I giggled and Rosalie scoffed, but she playfully slapped Alice's ass as she scooted by us.

"That girl…" Rose sighed. "That girl is a ray of fucking sunshine if I've ever seen one."


Football, despite what some may think, is actually a completely enjoyable sport to watch.

I think perhaps it may be because of my upbringing - watching Seahawks games on TV from my Dad's lap, streaking under my eyes with green and black face paint and donning small Number 12 jerseys - or maybe the good memories it brings, but I've always enjoyed it.

Knowing someone on the team, however, changes things exponentially.

"Come on, Em!" I scream, hands cupped around my mouth, shouting from deep in my gut. "Don't take that shit from them!"

"Let's go, babe!" Rosalie shouts, stomping her foot and attracting even more attention than we've already gathered. "Squish 'em like a fucking bug!"

Emmett jumps up from the grass, plucking his helmet from his head. When he does, I can see the full force of his grin and hear his boisterous, full laughter - even from up this high.

"I'm trying here, ladies!" he bellows, bending back a bit with the force of his voice.

"Not good enough, jockstrap!" Rosalie shrieks, and I dissolve into laughter.

We both settle back down as the players break for water, giggles fading off. Soon though, the only sounds between us are the Coach's beckoning whistle and the jostle of equipment as the guys jog back onto the field.

"He's so good to me, B," Rosalie breathes, voice soft. When I turn to look at her, her eyes are on Emmett - a small smile gracing her lips. "Much better than I deserve."

"Don't say that, Rose," I sigh, leaning my head against her shoulder. She tilts her own, and I can feel her cheek resting on the crown of my head.

"It's true. He's just so nice, in every way possible. His family is, too," she says, and I stiffen at the mention of the rest of the Cullen clan, a small thrill going through me at even the idea of my Romeo-boy.

"His parents?" I ask, and the tone of my voice needs no further explanation for the real question I'm asking - do his parents care about your last name?

"Especially them. They're… incredible," she laughs. "I come in, faded off my ass, slurring and stumbling and reeking of vomit… and his Mom makes me a cup of tea, his Dad sits me down and examines me and he gives me anti-nausea medication. They don't turn their noses up at my dress or hair or streaky makeup…"

"They sound incredible," I whisper, unable to stop the pang of jealousy that settles deep into my chest. I want to know them, too - almost painfully so. I want to meet the people that raised such irreplaceable sons… the ones who raised such a beautiful, resplendent sunshine-boy that owns every inch of my damaged little heart.

"They let me stay the night, you know? After the party. His Mom said she knew my parents wouldn't be too happy to see me like that," she scoffs. "It's like she knew. I think she did, actually. Maybe it's not a secret to anyone but me just how fucked up my family really is."

I clench my jaw and remain silent, grasping one of Rosalie's hands in both of mine and keeping absolutely still. It's rare, this moment of truth from her, and I'm hanging onto it with everything I've got.

"You're lucky, B, really. Your Dad… he cares so much."

I can't help the almost violent scoff that comes out at that, shaking my head.

"What was in that weed, Rose? You're acting delusional."

She makes a sharp 'tsk' sound and nudges me, but I snuggle in deeper and refuse to look up.

"Bella, seriously. I know it doesn't really seem like it sometimes, but he does care. He got you help when you needed it the most. He's making sure you're staying straight. My folks certainly couldn't say the same."

She's probably right, but this ever-present ache that burns black and ugly in my chest begs to differ. Every redeeming thing Charles Swan has ever done was dashed in a single moment - the moment he forgot I existed on my own birthday.

"Your parents care, Rosalie. They just…"

"Have a shitty way of showing it?" she snaps, and I jump. She sighs, squeezing my fingers tightly. "I'm sorry. It's just… I really think they don't. I'm not saying that to gain sympathy or anything, but I genuinely think they don't give a fuck about me. I'm starting to accept that."

An image of Mr. and Mrs. Hale, pale blonde hair and stiff countenances, comes to mind. All throughout our youth, even as small children, it never really seemed as if they treated their kids as just that - kids. They were always expected to act more like mini-adults.

"It's a wonder you and Jazz turned out the way you did," I smile. "Both so unique, so creative. Your parents are kind of like robots, you know?"

This earns a strained little laugh from Rose. "You're right."

"But, I still think you're wrong. You're their child, of course they care for you."

I can feel Rosalie shaking her head vehemently. "I don't think so. Jazz was the planned one, you know that already. I was the mistake. Jasper was supposed to be the lone heir to the Hale throne - they planned for that situation. They didn't plan for me. I was a… a deviation from their perfect little path. An unwanted detour. I wish they gave a shit about me, but they just… they just don't."

I bite the inside of my cheek roughly to keep the rapidly welling tears at bay because although this story is heartbreaking, I can't say it's entirely untrue. Rosalie was unplanned, and she was a deviation.

"But you're not a mistake, Rose. No one would ever say that."

She scoffs and then sighs, and it sounds watery. I choke back a small sob and squeeze her hand tighter.

"My life feels like a fluke," she says, and I stiffen. "So, why shouldn't I treat it as such? Too much shit has happened to me. I just wasn't supposed to be here. Everyone else has a set path, a fate they're allotted. I wasn't supposed to be born, so I'm a… a free agent."

"A free agent?" I rasp, unable to stop the traitorous tears from falling now.

"Yeah, sure. It's like… like, everyone is allocated a certain about of pain and suffering in their lives, but there's joy and happiness in equal or exceeding measure to counteract it. Your fate determines it all. But, I wasn't planned. I'm an unknown variable and thus, I'm open to any and all crap and misery this world has to offer."

"I don't think it works that way," I try, shaking my head. "You were born. You're here. Whether or not you were planned doesn't matter."

"I think it does," she laughs humorlessly. "I think it matters a whole fuck of a lot. And, that's okay because I think I'm starting to accept that now. It gives me freedom, you know? I don't have fate on my side but I can make my own destiny, freely make my own choices. I can fuck up, and fuck up, and keep fucking up and it doesn't matter because I'm not screwing with any cosmic witchcraft that could blow my whole future into tiny pieces."

"But, what about someone else's fate?" I choke, pulling away and looking directly into her red-rimmed eyes - eyes that are impossible to discern whether they're red-rimmed from weed or from emotion. I grasp her hand even tighter in both of my own and she winces a bit, but I keep plugging on. "Let's say you don't have a destiny - sure, fine. But, what if you and all your unknown variables mess with someone else's path? What if you're fucking up someone else's life?"

For a few long, heavy moments, we just stare at each other - me, with my chest heaving and tears falling fat and wet down my heated cheeks; her, brows furrowed and mouth agape, studying my face.

"Did I… did I do something to you, Bella?"

Yes! I want to scream. Yes, yes, yes! You pushed my demise into my palm and forced me to take it. It's sitting in my fucking underwear drawer, taunting me every night… and you can't even remember.

"No," I say instead, the lie like a bitter pill on my tongue. I swallow it down with too much ease. "No, I'm just talking out of my ass. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. Are you sure?" she says, bending to meet my eyes as I look down and away.

I untangle our hands and pull down both sleeves of my sweater, rubbing roughly at my tear-streaked face.

"Yeah," I sniff. "I'm sure. I was just thinking out loud."

Rosalie studies me for a minute, and I turn and cross my arms over my chest and try to focus on the practice going on below us. I try to calm my breathing, to make my chest stop heaving like it is.

"If I did…" she says, stopping to swallow. I meet her eyes. "If I did, you would tell me, wouldn't you? We don't lie to each other, B."

I force myself to smile, quick and tight, and hope it's convincing enough.

We do lie to each other, all the time. I know there's something else Rosalie is hiding from me right now, because I've known her since I can remember and I can read her like a fucking book. She's not telling me, though. She's lying to me.

I lie to her because she has so much - too fucking much - on her plate, and I'm terrified one more thing will send her falling off an edge I know all too well.

I lie to her because, on some level, I know she's right. I know her parents probably don't care for her. I know if she did fall off that edge, they wouldn't care enough to get her the help Charlie got for me.

I lie to her because in this crazy, messed up, fucked up world… Jasper and Emmett and Alice and I are all she's got, and if we can't protect her…

Who will?


The phone rings once, twice, three times before someone picks up.

"Yeah?"

The male voice is unfamiliar to me. I consider hanging up, because this wouldn't be the first time she's changed her number without letting me know.

"Hello," I speak, my voice coming out sounding much too high and much too nervous. I clear my throat and try again. "Hi, is Renee there?"

Her name sounds strange on my tongue, having not spoken it for a while.

"Who wants to know?" they ask again, and I bristle at the tone but breathe a sigh of relief. So, this is still her number?

"It's Bella?"

"Bella? Bella who?" he says, and my stomach turns and tumbles and drops.

"It's Bella, her - "

"Listen, kid, I ain't never heard of any Bella. If this is another one of Chantel's fuckin' friends again, I told you before - Renee don't have your Goddamn money yet."

"But - "

"Just tell her she needs a few more days. We're tryin' to sell the car right now, she'll get her money when we do."

"Okay," I whisper.

"And, tell Chantel that shit she gave us last time was crap… had Renee passed out for hours."

"Okay," I say again.

The line goes dead.


Snowy, white powder shifts behind clear plastic as I tilt the small bag to and fro, watching it first gather in one corner, then the next.

"What is it about you that makes people so crazy?" I say, voice nothing but a breath as I study the substance, baggie pinched between my index finger and thumb as I hold it up to the light. I spin once, twice in my desk chair before settling again. "What is it that makes you the most important thing in people's lives?"

You know, a dark voice hisses in my mind. That's why you started, isn't it? You wanted to understand why she chooses it over you, every time. Now you do. Now you know what it means to chase the dragon.

It's simple, the actions that bring me ever-closer to my demise. It's like riding a bicycle, really - walk over to my bag, grab my wallet, pluck Daddy's black credit card and a dollar bill from my wallet. Clear a nice, clean spot on the desk. Rub the bag a bit, break up the chunks you know aren't there because this is the good shit.

I catch myself just in time. Fingers poised on the lip of the bag's closure, ready to open it up, I stop myself.

My heart is pounding not only in my chest, not only in my throat, but in my entire fucking body. I can feel the anticipation down to the tips of my toes.

"Why are you like this?" I hiss, clenching the little baggie in my fist and raising it to my mouth, biting down on my knuckles and squeezing my eyes shut tight.

It takes a long, torturous few minutes of talking myself down before I'm able to reset everything - again, second nature.

Everything works in steps, a routine, only I've skipped the main one: cutting a nice, thin line and snorting myself to oblivion.

I put the bag, untouched, into my underwear drawer and slip the credit card and bill back into my wallet.

I inspect my outfit in Grandma Swan's white painted wood, antique mirror - long-sleeved black floral dress with delicate ivory-and-pink flowers and Docs. I tuck my hair behind my ears, wrinkling my nose at my natural wavy texture - I definitely should've taken Alice up on her offer to come by first and blow-dry it. I don't bother with any makeup other than cherry Chap-stick, because I know he likes it.

I grab my bag from my bed and walk downstairs, emerging to an empty house. My steps echo through the hallways as I make my way to Charlie's study.

As always, his alcohol cabinet is unlocked. Alcohol has never been my vice and he's never really had a taste for it, either. This cabinet goes unlooked the majority of the time, save for business meetings with associates who have a penchant for overpriced whiskey and imported scotch.

I grab an unopened bottle of something with 'The Balvenie' printed across the label, though I don't much care for the name as long as it gets the job done. I meander into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and a couple of chilled bottles of Coca-Cola from the fridge. I mix a drink, and then another one, and another one until my body feels fuzzy-warm, the lingering flavors of toasty oak and burnt sugar on my tongue making me giggle.

By the time Alice and Rosalie call to tell me they're outside, the tips of my ears are hot and I know my cheeks are flushed the color of over-ripe strawberries. Or perhaps raspberries? Like the ones I ate that night at Rose's, the ones I knew drove my boy absolutely crazy…

I stumble a bit as I make my way down the drive, catching myself quickly with a snort and righting my balance. My legs feel like Jello by the time I sink into the soft leather seats of Rosalie's BMW, and my skin feels numb.

"Evening, darlings," I breathe, leaning back and closing my eyes. We begin to drive, and the gentle hum of music playing from the stereo along with the pleasant rocking of the car lulls me.

"Bella, are you alright?" Alice asks, turning around in her seat to study me with a weary gaze. She looks so pretty tonight - her short, wavy hair pulled back into a loose bun and her makeup French-girl chic, bangs just brushing her perfectly shaped brows - which furrow at me in confusion. "Thank you? But, you didn't answer me. Are you okay?"

I must've spoken all that aloud! I snort and then giggle, covering my mouth with both hands.

"Oops! I didn't mean to say that," I laugh. "You know it's all true, though."

Rosalie's blue eyes lock onto mine through the rear-view mirror.

"B, answer the question. What's wrong with you?"

"'What isn't?' might perhaps be the more pertinent question, Rose," I retort, leaning back and rolling down my window. Crisp October air ruffles my hair and tries its absolute hardest to cool my flushed and feverish cheeks. "Can you turn it up, please? I love this song."


The Six is bustling, crowd alight with unconcealed anticipation. By the time we park - nearly three blocks away, as every available space in the nearest vicinity is taken - and sneak through the back door, we've missed the opening band.

"Do you know where Em is?" Alice says into Rosalie's ear, voice raised over the cacophony of the raucous party backstage and the loud murmurs in the main club. The arm she's got hooked through mine tightens as I'm jostled by a particularly hefty man in a Velvet Underground tee.

"He said he'd save us a table near the right side of the stage," Rose answers back, scrolling through her phone, eyes narrowed as she leads us through a maze of equipment and wires and amps.

I keep my eyes peeled for number one, gaze darting back and forth - though the whiskey in my system and sloshing around in my stomach makes my vision skip, everything cast in a hazy glow of intoxication that makes lights look fuzzy-soft and air feel heavy. We're nearing the side door, the one that'll take us out into the crowd, the one that'll take me further away from him - because I know he's back here, I can feel him - and I struggle against Alice's grip to reach into my bag.

"Wait," I murmur, stumbling a bit, holding a hand to my forehead as the world seems to tilt on its axis. "I need my phone, I need to…"

"No you don't, babe. Not now, not in front of Rose," Alice murmurs into my ear, and her breath tickles so I giggle. And then I snort.

And then I see him and my heart beats double-time hard, my skin buzzing, chest aching as he cuts through the throng toward me. He's rockstar-beautiful and he smiles like a prince, his flannel on tee on jeans on Docs clinging to all his tall and toned, narrow hips looking like they were made for my hands to grip onto. His hair is a flame and his eyes are a forest fire, and I'm so in love it makes me spin harder than the alcohol ever could.

I'm so in love.

Wait...

The thought makes me falter, and my heart is such a traitor.

"You made it," the only boy in the world breathes, bending to plant the sweetest kiss to my cheek, his hand on my waist. Fingers grip just a little tighter as the tip of his nose trails a fire-licked path just under my ear. "I missed you, beautiful Baby," he says, and it's just for me.

Alice clears her throat and he steps back, all uncertain reluctance. His brow furrows as he turns, pressing a much more chaste version of our kiss to her cheek. He says something into her ear that I can't make out, and she glances at me briefly before answering him in a tone that matches his hush.

The way he looks at me as they pull apart makes me want to cry.

"Cullen, have you seen your brother?"

Rosalie's voice enters my consciousness as if someone has suddenly cranked the volume on a stereo that was previously only turned to a dull mumble, and I jump. Edward's eyes are on me as he answers.

"About an hour ago, before the first band went on. Why?" he says, and then looks at her.

I miss his attention already, and I kind of want to stomp my feet and hold his face in both of my hands, and tell him to look at me! Look at me, talk to me, kiss me! I miss the feel of his warm, soft skin and the smell of his honey and sunshine. I crave his affections like… well, like an addict craves her next fix.

My stomach flips at the thought.

I'm obsessed with him, addicted to him.

A vice for a vice? No, he could never be my vice - he's too good.

"I just peeked out to look for him, and he isn't where he said he'd be. Any ideas?"

Edward shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets - but not before I catch the clench of his fists just before they disappear into dark denim. The tendons of his forearms flex, straining, and I want to touch and kiss and stroke each one until he stops.

"Your guess is as good as mine. I'm not his keeper, Rosalie - I think that position is already filled by you."

I raise both brows - my boy is feisty tonight. I can feel his agitation from here, rolling off of him in palpable waves. Can anyone else? Or, is it just my hyper-awareness of him, how my body is so attuned to everything he does?

"Very funny, Rockstar. Don't you have a groupie to fuck?" she snaps, and I flinch and close my eyes, tummy turning. My skin crawls in the worst way at her implication, and images I have no desire to see flash through my mind… of Edward in compromising positions with girls that are most certainly not me.

I shake my head at the thought, and swallow down the sudden urge to vomit.

When I open my eyes, his are all over me and I relish the tiny, nearly imperceptible shake of his head. No, it tells me, I don't. No, it says, there are no groupies.

The corners of my lips twitch upward and I bite down on my bottom one to hide the full-blown smile threatening to break free. His jaw tenses at the sight, and I love him, I love him…

God help me, I love him.

"Ladies! Glad you could finally make it," Jasper says, sidling up to Edward and throwing an arm over his shoulder. The slightly glassy sheen of Jazz's eyes tell me everything I need to know - his three sheets to the wind match mine perfectly.

"Parking was an absolute nightmare. Do you guys have any concept at all of how popular you are?" Alice sighs, gazing up at him and oh, I know that look.

Relief lightens the weight on my chest, because her and I are so in this together. Her heart-eyes are as undeniable as mine.

"Well, when you put it like that…" Jazz says with a smile, and I genuinely think I can see Alice melt.

"Hey, guys? Five 'til stage," a rough voice comes from behind me. I turn, and this man is unfamiliar. His dirty blond locks are longer than Jasper's, and pulled back with a worn piece of leather. His scruff is dark, and his eyes are hazel and he's looking at me like I'm something to eat - in the worst way.

Not in the way my boy does - like he'd devour my mind, body and soul and give me all of him in return.

This man looks like he'll take, and take, and take and leave nothing but a shell behind.

My spine straightens and I shuffle backward so suddenly, I hit against a solid, defined chest. Hands come up to steady me by my forearms and when I look back, Edward is all unsure and stiff and beautiful.

"You good?" he mumbles, and I give a slow nod. He looks past me, toward the man with the scary eyes. "Thanks, James. We'll be there in a second."

James nods once, short and curt, and turns on his heel to stalk away with long, fast strides.

"Who… who was that?" I whisper, turning and coming face-to-face with Edward.

He clears his throat and steps away, rubbing the back of his neck with the palm of his hand - the other goes straight into his hair, tangling into what I know to be the softest locks.

"New drummer," he says, eyes glancing just over my shoulder to where Rose, Alice and Jasper are peeking around the side of the stage - presumably in an attempt to spot Emmett. When he speaks again, the tone of his voice makes my heart jump. "Bella, are you drunk?"

I gasp before I can stop myself, eyes wide.

"I… I, um…"

Busted.

Edward breathes out, face twisting, eyes clenched shut as he fists his hair tightly. His other hand hovers in the space between us, half-outstretched as if reaching for me.

"Baby, what are you… why?" he groans, the full force of his Green all on me now.

"I'm sorry," I rush out, my voice breathless and shaky. I'm fumbling, twisting my hands and fingers together over and over.

"What are you thinking?" he growls, and his fury and force has my hackles up instantly. "What's going on in that head of your's? Why would you…"

"Who are you, my father?" I snap. He flinches. "Are you… are you chastising me right now? What - are you going to ground me, Daddy?"

His face flushes in an instant, mouth agape, brows furrowed deep over his eyes. I step back, and his hand reaches out and grasps my forearm before I can move any further.

"Why are you acting like I'm the bad guy here?" he says, and when I pointedly look down at his grip on me, he reluctantly releases it.

"I didn't know there were any 'bad guys' involved at all," I say, and damn it, my voice slurs a bit despite myself. Edward sucks in a sharp breath. "If you're not, then who is? Me?"

"No, I… fuck," he rasps, closing his eyes. "Bella, you have to think of this in context. For most people, this is nothing. For you…"

"For me... it's everything, right?" I say. "Fucked-up Bella and her fucked-up issues. One drop of anything and she's liable to snap again, is that it?"

"Stop," he hisses. "Stop that shit. You know that's not what I meant. You're taking everything I'm saying completely wrong."

"Maybe," I shrug, words hitching briefly in my throat. This distance I'm creating between us lingers, aching like a physical wound. I step back again, when all I want to do is tuck myself into his arms and his heart and his soul and never, ever let go. "Maybe not."

Edward takes a deep breath, arms crossed against his chest.

"You're hurting us," he chokes. "You're hurting this… hurting me."

And like they're the magic words, like there was a levee and he's broken it, tears spill over in rivulets down my cheeks. Edward's face crumples in response, his tensed shoulders slumping.

"Oh, Baby, don't. I'm sorry, I didn't - "

"Showtime, synergy!" Jasper shouts, wrapping a hand around Edward's arm and pulling him backward. "We'll see you girls out there."

His expression is pure sorrow as he gazes at me for a long, lingering moment and I have to look away.

I do, however, watch as they step onto the stage. The lights stay down for them to set up but the crowd still recognizes the two front men and begins to howl, cheering and cat-calling. In the blue-dark, I can no longer see Edward's face - though I can feel his eyes on me as Alice leads us to the side door and out.


When we finally find Emmett, it's because he finds us first.

"Hey, girls!" he shouts, voice instantly recognizable.

"Oh, Jesus Christ, Em," Rosalie growls, though her lips curl into a smile at the sight of him - heads above everyone else, his arms wave wildly, dimpled face alight with a wide, goofy smile.

"Found him!" Alice chirps, and I snort in response.

Elbowing our way through is no easy task, and I'm shoved more than once by overzealous girls giving me absolute daggers.

"Hostile crowd…" I mumble, as a busty redhead shoves her way past me without apology, screeching to her friends about getting to the front of the stage.

Her tousle sends my already shaky balance completely off-kilter, and I'm listing to the side before I can stop myself.

"Whoa, there!"

Large, heavy arms catch me, steadying me easily.

"Thanks, Em," I sigh, cheeks ruddy-flushed and burning.

Emmett grins, throwing an arm around my shoulder and tucking me into his side.

"Stay here as long as you'd like, Bella-Bella," he mumbles. "You had me last time, I've got you this time."

A rush of gratitude swells in my chest.

"You really don't have to do this…"

Emmett gives me a long look, smile still planted firmly on his face. "I know."

A chirp sounds from my bag and I reach in, fumbling for my phone. I already know who it is before I look.

Any requests?

I look up to the stage and sure enough, the artrifice-light glow of a cell phone is reflecting off Edward's profile.

I have to think for a long, hard moment - because this is an opportunity. When I have the answer, my fingers are flying and I send my response before I can second-guess it.

'Life's a bummer, when you're a hummer. Life's a drag.'

I receive no reply but I don't expect to because the stage lights come up, bathing the boys in blue as they're back-lit with string lights - so much like that first night, that first show. The crowd erupts, cheering building in a wave so strong it has my heart thump-thumping double-time.

"Good evening, Los Angeles…" Jasper speaks into the mic, and they're off without another word.

They slam into 'Cherub Rock' and with a packed audience at the ready, it's so different from the first time I heard them play it. It's the first time I've seen them with the new line-up, and the difference is remarkable. Whereas Taylor and Wren fit, these new guys… they belong. Even beady-eyed James, slamming away at his drum set with reckless abandon.

Edward's voice is better than pitch-perfect, dropping into a growl in all the right places, and the way his body bends over his guitar, the way he leans into his mic…

"He seems a little tense tonight, doesn't he?" Emmett shouts over the music to nobody in particular. I meet Alice's eyes and she gives me a telling, apologetic little pursed-lip smile.

He is tense, and I know I'm the reason why.

He bends the solo into submission, fingers dancing easily along the fret-board. Without a rest they start into the next song, an iconic bass-line played to perfection rousing the crowd into a frenzy immediately. Edward takes the mic on 'Come As You Are' like a 90's daydream, a perfect little lock of hair falling down and making him look like the absolute picture of cool-confidence that he is. Jasper's backing vocals are seamless, and I catch Alice fanning herself more than once - when they're done, the crowd is so loud it's nearly impossible to hear his voice as he steps to the mic.

"Are we alright out there?" Jazz calls, and the ear-piercing response he gets is answer enough.

I keep my eyes on Edward, his tense shoulders and clenched jaw as he strips off his flannel and ties it loosely around his waist. The cat-calls that ensue have me clenching my fists.

Mine! Keep your dirty paws to yourselves.

"This next one is an old Soundgarden tune. Hope you enjoy."

'Nothing seems to kill me, no matter how hard I try…' Edward croons, eyes closed, and the words pierce straight to the heart of me. His vocals are just the right amount of Chris Cornell to fit, but he twists it to make it sound entirely his own.

Jasper takes the vocals on Stone Temple Pilots' 'Plush' and Nirvana's 'Stay Away'. Mid-way through the latter, I scoot over to Alice's side and grip her hand in mine. She squeezes with gusto as Jasper goes all-in, screaming his way through the verses.

'Less is more, love is blind, I don't know why. Stay, stay away,' he growls, and Alice sucks in a sharp breath.

"That's a little obvious, don't you think?" she says after the last distorted note has faded off, breathing out a shaky, humorless laugh.

I grasp her hand tighter in response.

"Hello…"

Breath stutters and stops in my chest at the quiet velvet cadence that speaks, the crowd shrieking in response. Edward stands at the mic, one hand resting casually on the neck of his guitar, the other in his hair. He squints against the lights as he scans the crowd, a delicious little crooked grin curving his lips upward.

"We're, uh… we're very glad you could join us tonight. I hope you're having a good time so far."

"Fuck yeah!" Emmett shouts, arms above his head, earning him a sharp dig in the ribs from Rosalie.

"Good to hear," Edward laughs, and Emmett's outburst has granted him what I know he'd been hoping for - a way to see where I am. His eyes meet mine, holding them. "This one is called 'You'."

He steps back and Jasper picks out an unmistakable riff, melodic and mesmerizing. I hold my breath. When he sings, Edward's eyes aren't closed - they're open and gorgeous and Green and all over me.

'You are the sun and moon and stars, are you, and I could never run away from you…'

"Good God," Alice squeaks. "Speaking of obvious…"

My body is alight, burning hot and bright for him, and he sings everything I'm feeling right back to me.

'You, me and everything, caught in the fire. I can see me drowning, caught in the fire…'

Then they're into the next song before I can catch my breath, an unrelenting intensity that lulls the crowd - they sway, some with their hands up; others with eyes closed; others still, rocking and feeling, feeling, feeling it all.

A heavy bass-line and strangely distorted guitar ring out, Edward leaning into his wah pedal to craft the distinctive intro of 'Hummer' - my request. I can't stop the disbelieving laugh that chokes out, and I shake Alice's hand. She stops her swaying, meeting my eyes.

"Want to get closer?" I shout, raising my voice over the cacophony.

Wordlessly, she hooks her arm into mine and begins expertly elbowing her way through the crowd. I stumble more than once but Alice steadies me each time and miraculously, incredibly, we're at the front of the stage in no time.

I don't stop to question how in the world she managed to get us past the she-devils in their tube tops and too-short dresses, emerging relatively unscathed, because Edward is close enough to touch and I'm looking up at him - and I have to physically stop myself from reaching out and doing so.

When he notices us, his smile is absolutely brilliant and my chest is tight with love, love, love. He steps back, elbowing Jazz, who grants us an eye roll and a smirk.

And then I'm entranced, enchanted, moving to my boy and his beat.

I can feel him in every inch of me, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, and I'm breathless when he sings the line I've been waiting for.

'Yeah, I love you, it's true,' he breathes, and his eyes are wide.

My smile is silly and shy and all for him, and I watch his throat work as he swallows and shakes his head and I know that he knows.

I'm scared, absolutely terrified, and this is impossible and crazy but the easiest thing I've ever done.

Loving him is effortless.

As the show progresses, there's an odd, overwhelming feeling that paints everything in shades of strange. There's a quiet familiarity in the songs, and it takes me much too long to realize why I keep shifting, keep chewing on my lip and tugging the hem of my dress…

I'm all over this.

I'm in the lovely crack in Edward's voice as he sings about sex and candy and 'double-cherry pie', in The Jesus and Mary Chain song Jasper takes the lead on that I played on our drive along the coast. Then, my boy growls his way through 'Drain You', looking at me every time he sings the word 'baby.'

They play an Everclear song off the 'Romeo + Juliet' soundtrack, and I'm in that, too.

I'm all over him and he's all over me.

The night ends with a song by Jeff Buckley, just Edward solo with his guitar. It's absolute magic from start to finish, and he commands the crowd without knowing he's doing it - they watch with rapt attention, as if under a spell.

His voice makes me feel like there are flowers beneath my love-locked ribs, and the space between us seems like miles when all I want is to hold him.

'Oh, you left some stars in my belly, you left some stars in my belly,' he croons, and it's like he stole the words straight from my heart.


"Come with me."

My body thrills at the sound of his voice, at the warmth of his chest as he presses against my back.

I've been waiting for him all night, watching him from across the room as he's been surrounded by praise. His cheeks were perma-flushed from the heat, hair sticking up at all angles and slightly damp with sweat. I'd caught him pulling up the hem of his tee more than once to dab away the moisture, revealing tantalizing bits of his abdomen as he did so.

We'd hovered around each other like satellites - as I'd shifted to one corner of the room, he'd done the same, always keeping me in his eye line. I'd observed his frustration as, with every step he took to approach me, he'd been interrupted.

I'd watched Victoria hang all over him like a fucking limpet, too.

I must admit, they looked… definitely not right together, but maybe in another world - one where I didn't exist, where our love never became the most all-consuming thing either of us had ever known - they could have been.

A little jade monster was my constant companion through it all, whispering evil things into my ear. It wasn't just Victoria, no - we were in Edward's world now, the world where he was the Prince of Everything and all those around him were his very willing subjects.

The most infuriating, frustrating, unbelievably attractive thing is… he has no idea of the effect he has on people.

Girl after girl, each just as eager as the next, tried their absolute damnedest to garner his affections. I'd be fine if they were hideous, if they posed absolutely no threat.

They weren't hideous.

And though his eyes were on me at every chance, though I could see the panic on his face as he lost sight of me for even a fraction of a second, the envy still raged.

How I wished I could walk up to him as they were, place my hand on his chest as they were, lean in and whisper into his ear as they were. I would do much more than that… I would run my fingers through his hair, tug like I know he loves. I'd grab him and kiss him, taste him and take from him and let everyone see so they'd know he's mine.

I'd never thought myself capable of having a possessive streak. I suppose I'd never had anything to be possessive over, before now.

Now, I knew what it was like to taste him - warm honey and sex and boy. I knew what it was to hold him - heart bursting, head spinning happiness. I knew what it was to lean against him as he played me the sweetest songs on his piano, how it felt to hold him against my chest and feel his most precious heart thump in time with mine.

Mine, mine, mine.

So, when I'm leaning forward against the bar and awaiting my bottle of water and thinking of him, and he speaks those three words into my ear…

"Come with me."

I do. Of course I do.

We move through the throng like bandits, me tucked close to his back and one of my hands in his as he guides us through the mass of people. His head is down, ducked low, hiding. I place my other hand against him, feeling the muscles of his shoulders flex beneath soft cotton before I grasp it in my fist.

"Almost there, Baby," he whispers, angling his head so I can hear him better.

He leads us up a flight of industrial-looking stairs, passing by a group of people lingering on the overhang above the dance floor. They call his name, and I hide my face against him.

"Yo, Cullen! Sick show, man. Get over here, this round's on us…"

A prince in his kingdom. He shakes his head.

"Sorry, man, not this time. I've got…"

"Oh… you heading to the office?"

Edward hesitates, squeezing my hand. I lean my forehead against his shoulder blade.

"Yeah, actually. Can you make sure no one gets in?"

"Of course, dude... have fun."

And then we're moving again, Edward pulling a set of keys from his pocket and unlocking a door. We step inside, and the low night-time moonlight that streams through the wide tinted warehouse-style windows paints everything in a warm yellow-hue glow.

Edward turns, locking the door behind him, and I take a moment to look around. The space is a fair size, clearly a room that was added as a renovation. The wall the windows are against is brick, the others a pale beige-grey. To the right, a sleek desk sits, low brown leather chairs before it - a large potted plant tucked into the corner, the walls adorned with framed records in platinum and gold.

"An office?" I ask, stepping forward.

"Yeah… Gianna's. She's the owner of The Six," Edward explains, clearing his throat. His voice rasps - from overworking it during the show or the strange tension of this moment, I can't tell.

"And, what is this?" I ask, the dull thud of my boots against the floors more distinct than I would've thought, with the music bumping below us. I can feel the bass through the soles of my shoes.

The 'this' I'm referring to is a black curtain that hangs to my left, dividing the majority of the room from whatever lies behind it. It's made of a material that feels thick and heavy in my hands as I push it aside to reveal a large bed, low to the ground - thick, fluffy-looking cream-colored bedding and an array of neutral-toned pillows. A Persian rug sits, looking purposefully off-center and chic, on the floor and a full bookshelf and various framed photographs lean against the far wall.

"There are late nights, every once in a while. Gianna has an apartment further downtown, but she stays here sometimes."

I step further in, turning and regarding Edward as he pulls the heavy drapes closed behind him. The effect is instantaneous - the barrier mutes most of the sound from below and in the relative stillness, when he turns to face me… the air becomes electric.

"Bella…"

"Have you ever slept here?" I speak, before he can go any further.

Edward sighs, one hand in his hair as he throws his keys carelessly onto a side table.

"Yeah, a few times."

"Is that why you have a key?"

He furrows his brows. "What are you getting at?"

I swallow, hard, and force out my next question through trembling lips.

"Have you ever slept here… with her?"

I don't have to clarify who I'm talking about, and he doesn't really have to answer. Not when his shoulders drop, when he looks away from me toward the large window that takes over most of the wall behind the bed.

"Not in a long, long time."

I cross my arms and nod, biting back the urge to fucking scream or something.

"I don't think I want to be here."

"Bella, stop," he sighs, taking a step closer. I take one back, and his face crumples. "It was never like that. Gianna is a family friend. I… I played a show here with a different band, and I needed a place to stay for a night before we headed off to Oregon. It was once, I swear to you."

"I don't need an explanation," I bite, closing my eyes and shaking my head. "What you did before is none of my business. I just don't think I can… I can't be in a room where you… with someone else…"

And then he's on me in an instant, hands in my hair and lips on my forehead, my temple, my eyelids and my cheeks.

"Baby, it was a long time ago. Fuck, I never should've told you, I just… I just needed somewhere to be alone with you."

I'm crying and it's stupid, so stupid. I feel like a fucking child throwing a tantrum. He kisses my tears so sweetly, brushing them with his thumbs and smoothing my unruly locks, rubbing my shoulders and back and I just want to be level-headed and mature for once.

So I say, "okay."

He says, "'okay', what?"

I say, "okay, it's fine. This is fine. I… I just want to be alone with you, too."

And when I open my eyes and see him, his uncertain smile and candy-pink lips, I can think of nothing but him and I and this moment.

When I lean forward and kiss him, his answering groan hits deep into my belly, making me feel twisty-turny and warm. I run my fingers through his hair like I've been wanting to all night, I tug just the way I've been dreaming of, and he wraps his arms around me and lifts me like they do in the movies.

When my back hits the bed, I don't think of him and another woman and what might've happened before. I can only think of him and me and mine, mine, mine - the overwhelming urge to claim him, like I want to crawl under his skin and stay there forever. It's painful, the way my chest tightens, the way his smooth, sweet lips tugging and sucking on mine makes heat pool and soft flesh ache unbearably.

I wrap my legs around him, pulling denim against damp cotton and writhing to feel him there. His breathless grunt is like music to my ears.

"Wait," he moans, pulling away. I whine and strain to taste him again. "Baby, wait."

"No," I lament, desperate for friction and skin-against-skin, for hot and hard against slick and wet.

Then suddenly, in a move so fast I can barely comprehend it, his hands wrap around my wrists and pin them against the bed on either side of my head. He wrenches his lips from mine and raises himself to his knees, and the only connection between us is his grip on me and his forearms resting against my own.

"Stop, Bella, slow down. We need to talk, damn it," Edward growls.

"No, we don't," I breathe, licking my kiss-swollen lips. He looks down at them and a breathy moan escapes his chest as he squeezes his eyes closed, hanging his head. His hair tickles my nose and I strain forward, pressing a kiss into his soft locks. He smells just like he always does - lilac and sunshine and boy - with a sweet little hint of something else, of sweat that could only drive me crazy because it's his.

"You're not straight right now," he says, swallowing hard before meeting my eyes again. His are blazing, pupils dilated and verdant-bright. "You're drunk. I can't… I won't take advantage of you. We need to talk about this."

"I'm not drunk," I groan, squirming under him. His grip tightens and I whimper, bottom lip pouting despite myself. "I'm not, not anymore. Please."

He inhales sharply, mouth agape as he sucks in quick, harsh breaths. His eyes are closed and his lips are red and it's agonizing, how much I need him.

"Don't do that," he pleads, shaking his head. "Don't… don't beg, Bella, I can't take it."

Oh, wrong thing to say…

I throw my head back and groan, and I'm acting so wild - urging him closer, straining against his hold - but I don't care.

"Please," I say again. "I'm hurting for you. Please, Edward."

Something shifts, a flip has been switched, and he's all over me.

One hand on the back of my neck and one under my dress, on my bare leg, Edward kisses me silly and stupid. He's a perfect tug on my bottom lip and a sweet tongue tracing my top lip and then against mine and then on my throat. His hand is big, fingers sure and certain as he grips the underside of my knee and pushes, raising my leg higher as he settles against my heat.

It's not enough. With fingers that don't fumble and hands that know their purpose, I reach down and untie his flannel, throwing it to the side. With a flick of my wrist, his top button is done for and a moment later, so is his zipper. He sits up and I follow, my heart not willing to be too far from his. I press a kiss against the cotton over his heart, sure I can feel the beat of it against my lips as I push denim over narrow hips. He doesn't let me get far and when they're just at the bottom edge of black boxer-briefs, he wraps an arm around me and lowers us back down.

I pull him in once again, and this… oh, this changes everything.

Edward throws his head back and lets out a gorgeous, strangled moan as he feels me. All that separates us is two thin layers of fabric, and I can feel him - long and hard and large, rubbing against my most sensitive flesh as he grinds against me.

"Can you… I need you to…"

"What?" he breathes, lips against my neck as he thrusts again. "Tell me, girl. Tell me what you want."

"Touch me," I sigh, and it's nearly a sob.

I could cry when his hand is finally against me over soaking-wet pink cotton, pressing and feeling and driving me crazy.

"You're so wet for me, Baby Girl," he says, lips brushing against mine with every word. "So responsive. Fuck, you're… oh, God."

He sits back and I open my eyes, about to protest, but his hands are untying my boots and then taking off my socks and gripping my panties and pulling - and then they're off and I'm watching him watch me, watching him as he puts his hands on my knees and slowly parts my legs, looking at all of me for the first time.

"I knew it," he sighs, closing his eyes as if overwhelmed.

Edward bends, pressing slow, lingering kisses to my knee, then another higher, and higher, and higher. He shifts and re-positions himself, resting on his side and holding his weight up on his elbow - the same hand of that arm looping under my leg and grasping the top of my thigh. His other hands flicks my dress up, exposing all of my lower half to him. I squirm when his tongue peeks out and tastes my skin mid-thigh and when I look, he's still watching me - lips curved up into that maddening smile.

I open my mouth to try for a snarky comment, but I never get to it - not when his hand comes to rest against the smooth skin between my hip bones, fingers splaying wide, and his thumb parts my tender flesh and begins to circle my most sensitive spot.

My mouth opens in a silent scream, head tilting back, and when I close my eyes I see stars.

"Look at me," Edward says, laying burning kisses along my inner thighs. "Look at me, Baby."

My breathing is all off, shaky and trembling and I can't seem to catch it for the life of me. But, it's nothing compared to what happens when I meet his eyes.

Brown lands on Green and in an instant, a blinding moment, he shifts his hand and presses and - oh, oh, oh.

Long fingers enter me in one smooth movement, so deep I can't stop the loud cry that escapes. He curls them, touching where I've never been touched before, and I'm rendered speechless and breathless. He hisses, a sharp breath between his teeth as he pulls out and then slides back in, slowly this time - so slowly my legs begin to shake, so slowly I have to grip the sheets below me to ground me in this moment before I float away.

When I feel his teeth bite into my thigh, it's impossible - but I feel as if I could come, right then and there.

"Edward," I manage, lifting one hand to my hair and gripping at my locks. "Oh, God… too much. It's too much."

He's doing things I didn't know were possible, creating a rhythm that makes my heart beat in every inch of my body, moving his fingers inside me and playing me like an instrument.

He pulls out, leaving me with an empty feeling I never knew I could have, and my gasp is choked and incredulous, eyes flying open.

"No, please," I whimper. "Please, please, please…"

"Shh," he soothes, laying against me once more. His lips brush against mine as he speaks, and I clutch at the front of his shirt as one of his arms loops under my shoulder, his hand tangling into my hair. He lifts the other - the one still glistening in the dull light, covered in me - to his mouth. I watch, bottom lip between my teeth and hooded eyes.

Edward's perfect-pouty lips part and he places his index and middle fingers between them, closing his lips and tasting me and my heart beats so fucking hard, I think it might stop. His moans make my insides feel like lava, and my skin tingles and buzzes. When he pulls his fingers from his mouth, he licks his lips.

"You taste like cotton candy, Baby," he says, and I feel like I might implode.

I grip his neck and pull him down to me, capturing his lips. He sucks in a breath that turns into a groan as I trace them with my tongue - tasting him and me and surprising even myself when the combination makes me absolutely crazy.

When he slips his fingers inside me this time, I arch upward, needing him as deep as he can go, aching for the release I know only he can give me - from this moment on and forever, only him.

He's whispering the sweetest anything-but-nothing's in my ear, words that make me feel higher than anything, that make me feel like I could be beautiful and lovely and everything he's telling me I am. His voice is the only thing that keeps me in this bed, on this Earth, in this fucking atmosphere as his fingers push me closer and closer to a release that feels world-shattering.

"Oh, God," I groan, my voice not sounding at all like my own. "I can't, I can't…"

"You can," my aching heart says, his breathing heavy. "Just hold onto me, girl."

So, I do. I hold onto him, grasp him, tug on his shirt and hair and curl into him, sinking my teeth into his shoulder when it all becomes too much - so much, I feel like I might die.

And when I free-fall off the edge of a pleasure that feels like it's too much for my body, I'm seeing stars and constellations and comets but I feel him there - his arms around me, lips on mine, giving me his breath when mine runs out.


I come down from Heaven and land straight in the arms of an angel.

He's a lazy smile and sleepy eyes, nuzzling my cheek and planting kisses on every inch of skin he can reach. I'm jelly-boned and starry-eyed, shivers that just won't quit as he keeps his fingers in soft, wet flesh, rubbing up and down in maddeningly delicate strokes.

"If you keep doing that, I'll…"

"You'll what?" Edward breathes, a smile in his voice, and he's so handsome when he looks at me and grins the way he does - so beautiful, it hurts to look at him.

A chill rocks my bones, from my center all the way to my shoulders as the tip of his finger teases my entrance.

"You'll come again?" he murmurs, nipping at my bottom lip - and, breathing is overrated anyway, right? "I want you to. I know you can."

It seems impossible. It's been but minutes since the first, and I'm still riding high off of it. It's never, ever happened for me again so quickly.

But, it does.

All it takes is a single, long digit inside and a thumb pressing against my swollen center, and I'm right back into that free-fall. The second time is almost painful, it's so good, a choked cry erupting from somewhere deep and guttural - I could swear it almost comes from my soul.

"That's it, Baby," Edward groans, pulling out and holding me against his chest. "I've got you."

It takes longer this time for my brain to emerge from the fog and my heart to stop trying its hardest to beat right out of my chest. When I come down, I'm surrounded by my boy and he's looking at me - and this love is so, so good.

This love is a safe landing, a trust fall - an 'I've got you' and you know, without a doubt, he does.

My epiphany sits heavy on the tip of my tongue, but I don't say a word. I feel what I feel and I know it's not wrong, but this moment isn't right. Not when the most beautiful smile disappears and is replaced by a heartbreaking frown that makes my insides feel every kind of wrong.

"What is it?" I whisper, not wanting to be the first to break this bubble. I trace his strong brows, the bridge of his nose and the perfect curve of his lips as I wait for him to speak.

"You were drunk tonight."

I swallow, wanting to look away from his blazing intensity but caught in the fire and flames.

"Yes."

I don't lie - not when there's no point, not when I know I was so transparent.

"Why?"

"That's seems to be the question of the hour, huh?" I mumble, trying for a smile but feeling it come out as more of a grimace.

"It wouldn't be if you'd just answer," he presses.

"It's complicated."

"Enlighten me, then."

I purse my lips, studying the stern set of his face and the stubborn tense of his jaw.

"I don't know why," I say, and it's not a total lie - because it's so many things, I suppose. It's everything.

It's my mother and how much I miss her, though I know I shouldn't.

It's my father and how I miss him, too, despite seeing him nearly every day.

It's Jacob and his unwanted presence in my life, how his darkness seems to seep into all my cracks like tar.

It's Edward, and how this love is the greatest thing I've ever known but how much it scares me. It's how I know why he won't be with me in public, how I know everyone will say I'm too young but how I selfishly wish he didn't care about any of it.

It's me. Me and my dark little heart. Me and how much damage I've done. Me and the way I seem determined to self-destruct. Me and all the ways I kill myself little by little, everyday.

"You do. It doesn't make sense, Bella. You're doing so well," Edward pushes on.

"Am I?" I ask, with a wry smile. I want to tell him about the drugs Rosalie gave me, about how close I was to wrecking it all today… about how I wanted something, anything to numb that need - about how whiskey is a devil, but it's the lesser of two evils.

"If you're not, you can say so," he says, holding my face so tenderly in his hands - like I'm a prize, a treasure, a porcelain doll. "If you're getting bad again all you have to do is say the word, and you'll get the help you need."

I think of Sue and her endless patience, her kind eyes and warm heart and all of her faith in me. I think of her the first night she met me, washing the blood from my skin without a second thought. The way she wrapped me in clean clothing and brushed my hair, told me I was safe and I was going to get better.

Could there have been anyone kinder, anyone more capable than Sue Clearwater? I didn't think so.

So, if Sue did all she could for me and I still turned out like this… what more could possibly be done?

"I'm fine," I say, and it hurts to lie to him. "It was a mistake. I don't know what I was thinking."

He kisses me and sighs against my lips, and I know he's not convinced.

"I was upset about my Dad and nervous about tonight. I was stressed and he left a bottle of whiskey out, and I… I just didn't think."

There, much more convincing. You're getting good at this again…

Edward purses his lips and regards me warily, and I almost want him to call me out again. I think if he does, if he keeps pushing, I'll tell him everything.

"If you ever think you'll do something like that again, I want you to text or call me. I don't care when, if it's late or if you think I'm busy," he says, tucking mussed locks of hair behind my ears. "Please, Baby. Promise me."

"I don't make promises," I whisper, biting my tongue to stop from crying.

I catch sight of his lip trembling just before he tucks me into his chest, and it makes my heart ache.


I'm sipping on a strawberry milkshake, exchanging secret smiles with Edward across the parking lot of our Sonic, when Jacob Black pulls up.

We'd made our way back down to the main floor of The Six with a shocking amount of ease and kept a painful distance for the remainder of the evening. When it came time to leave, I was the one to suggest a night-cap. I think Alice and Rose were too shocked to question why I brought it up at all.

Edward, Jasper and their band-mates had pulled into the spot directly across from Rosalie's BMW. We'd ordered and promptly exited the car, unwilling to let the night air go to waste. I'd hopped up onto the tail end and tried to ignore the way my boy's lips looked wrapped around his cigarette as he leaned against his trunk, but it was nearly impossible.

And then, a rumble. A roar. An unmistakable omen, and Jacob's bike is pulling into the lot, followed closely by the ostentatious yellow Hummer of Sam Uley.

"No fucking way," Rosalie hisses, coming to step in front of me.

I look for Edward's eyes, but he's not looking at me. He's not even where I saw him last. He's pushed off the back of his car and throwing his half-done cig to the ground, moving toward Jacob and his bike and his friends and no, no, no!

I jump from my perch, stumbling on shaky legs as I push past Rosalie. She grasps my arm, her long, red nails digging in.

"Where do you think you're going?" she bites.

Alice looks between us, hands pressed to her chest and eyes wide. I look back, and Edward is closer still.

It's a train wreck waiting to happen - a fucking catastrophe. I can't let him near them, I won't.

I wrench my arm free from Rose's grip, ignoring the scratch of her nails, and power forward. Her voice is an incredulous roar, an angry cry, but one I can handle.

Jacob has seen Edward now, standing beside his bike and tossing his helmet between his hands. I can see Sam, too... but others, as well - though I only recognize Quil and Embry. It's enough to know that if Edward starts a fight, he'll lose - even with the help of Jasper and Emmett and his friends… because Jacob and his crew don't fight fair. They use blades and bullets, and I want them nowhere near my boy.

"Jacob!" I cry, voice sharp and panicked.

He looks at me, and a slow smile spreads across his face. It's sickening.

"Izzy… long time, no see."

I'm nearly running toward him now, my boots a steady heartbeat rhythm against the pavement, and I want nothing more than to be running in the opposite direction. But I push on - because Edward has stopped in his tracks, watching me with a gaping mouth and narrowed eyes, and he's bearing witness to this catastrophe... but at least he's not the center of it.

If I could stop my momentum I would, but I can't, and before I know it I'm launching myself at Jacob. His arms are around my waist, the smell of expensive cologne and hair product assaulting my senses. I fight the urge to gag as he whispers in my ear.

"Someone's happy to see me…"

I turn my head, my voice a cutting hiss.

"Not a fucking chance."

"Your body begs to differ," he breathes, his hand going lower, lower still, resting just above the curve of my ass. I bring a hand to his hair and tug, pulling on stiff, styled locks until he hisses in pain.

"I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it for him."

Jacob releases me with a shove that is indecipherable to everyone else, but is enough to make me stumble backward a step.

"Smart girl," he drawls. "Though, you might want to tell him that. Your boy looks like he's about to blow his top."

I turn and sure enough, Edward is the picture of agony. His hands are in his hair and everything about him is tense. Emmett has a hand on his shoulder, speaking to him in hushed, low tones, though his voice is fast.

He's looking at me, and he's breaking.

"I'm glad I found you here tonight, Izz," Jacob says, and I reluctantly look back at him. "I need a favor."

"Why would I do anything for you?" I spit, crossing my arms and keeping my voice low. Jacob's friends are by that stupid yellow Hummer, trying and failing to listen in.

"If you want to keep your boy out of the slammer, you will," he smiles, and it's lecherous and dark and my stomach and heart drop. "Did you know, Izzy, the legal age of consent in California is eighteen?"

I swallow hard, struggling to keep the rising bile down.

"Excuse me?" I choke, and I'm shaking and trying not to cry, but…

What. What. What.

"You heard me, Lolita," he laughs. "Eighteen. And you're… what, seventeen?"

I step closer despite my baser instincts, voice wavering, because I'm so, so stupid - love-sick and stupid. I didn't even consider this.

"We haven't done anything," I lie, because haven't we? What happened tonight, could that be… "We've just kissed, that's it."

"Not if I say you've done more. Who do you think they'll believe - the guy committing the crime, or the guy reporting him?"

"There's been no crime!" I cry, nearly hysterical. I grasp Jacob's arm, and his lips curl up into a smirk and I know he's playing me - I know it. But, I can't take the chance… not with Edward. "What do you want? I'll do anything."

He grins, and I feel like I've made a deal with the Devil.

"This weekend. Dad's throwing another gala, and I need a date. You'll be there."

"What, can't catch a girl on your own, Jacob? No one interested?" I bite, and I'm playing with fire.

His face darkens, and I shiver.

"Of course I can, but I want you. It's a win-win, really," he says, like this is a business proposition and not blackmail. "You go out with me, I keep your boy a secret, and you make me happy. If you make me happy, my Dad is happy - and if my Dad is happy, Charles Swan reaps the benefits."

I want to vomit, right here on his stupid, ugly, designer motorcycle boots. I want to kick and scream, punch and hurt him and rip his hair out. I think, maybe, I might want to kill him.

Because he's killing me.

"Fine," I choke out, because what choice do I have? My big, drunk mouth got us here and now it's going to have to get us out.

"I knew you'd come around," he smiles, putting an arm around my neck and planting a kiss to my forehead. It's hot and wet and he smells like moonshine, and I step back as soon as possible.

He's not even looking at me when I do. He's looking over my head. I turn.

Edward's tail lights fade into the distance, leaving me feeling empty and cold on this warm California night.


should i hide? yikes, you guys - this was a rough one. it was so, so hard to come back to the angst after the fluff of last week. i feel like i need to write something sugary-sweet now to recover!

as always, your reviews were just absolutely fabulous to read. each and every one made my week. i'm so happy you're all still enjoying, because we've got a long ride ahead of us. :) i've also so enjoyed talking to you on tumblr, as well! if you were unaware, i post aesthetics and sneak-peeks on my blog, as well as answer your questions and talk about my upcoming fics. i'm bellaofthebarre there, too.

(also, just a p.s. - twitter locked me out of my other account, so i had to make a new one. it's now belladelabarre.)

fic rec this week is keeping appropriately on-trend with us earning our m-rating for the first time: a one-shot from the 'dirty talkin' edward contest', 'good in the stacks'... oh my god, you guys. this is… pure smut, but intelligent smut. i genuinely found myself gaping at my screen whilst i read this, having to take a break to compose myself when things got really heated. a good pick-me-up after a bit of an angst session. you can find it in my profile, under my favorite stories. you're welcome. ;)

until next time. xx

chapter 8 mixtape (not the complete list of every song they played, as that would be a very short gig):
track 1 - 'cherub rock' by the smashing pumpkins
track 2 - 'come as you are' by nirvana
track 3 - 'blow up the outside world' by soundgarden
track 4 - 'plush' by stone temple pilots
track 5 - 'stay away' by nirvana
track 6 - 'you' by radiohead
track 7 - 'hummer' by the smashing pumpkins
track 8 - 'just like honey' by the jesus and mary chain
track 9 - 'sex and candy' by marcy playground
track 10 - 'local god' by everclear
track 11 - 'drain you' by nirvana
track 12 - 'jewel box' by jeff buckley