BPOV

Over the next week I thought about Edward far more than would have been considered appropriate by either of my best friends had they known. They didn't know, because I didn't want to hear any of Alice's discouragement and Rosalie was still unaware of the true identities of the men who had given me a ride home from the Zeta Alpha party. It was to the extent that when I was sitting in class, ostensibly listening to my professors go on about literature, I was secretly making mental notations concerning Edward. By Thursday the pondering grew out of my head and onto actual notebook paper, me jotting down information instead of notes on my lectures.

What did I know about Edward? Not very much at all. I knew what the dispatcher at the Police Department had told me: that Edward was 25, from Chicago, and had been convicted of two accounts of assault at least. I knew he was tall and stupidly hot with a great body and great features, and that he had a giant tattoo of a dead tree and a whole bunch of weird scars, and that he wasn't "a people person" to use Jazz's words. I knew he hated me for no reason. I knew I had somehow terrified him with my inebriated lecturing.

There were other things too, though. He'd insisted that he and Jazz given me a ride home, that I take his sweatshirt when I was cold. He'd thanked Alice for her sandwich, whatever cowering state he'd done it in, and that had to count for something.

Tentative conclusion: Edward Cullen was some kind of basket case.

I couldn't explain why I was so interested in Edward; I certainly had no rational reason to be. No, rationality dictated that I create as much distance between myself and the man whose unpredictably unpleasant behavior had caused me so much unrest. It didn't work out that way, though. Some things just aren't rational, and it was an irrational thing drawing me toward Edward Cullen, formerly of Cook County, Illinois.

Still, I could try to justify it to myself all I wanted, and I did. I theorized that his bizarre behavior was naturally noteworthy to me, someone who had never experienced anything like that before. I rationalized that if Alice and Jazz saw much more of each other, and I sensed that if Alice had her way they definitely would, then it behooved me to get along with Edward for the sake of comfort and civility. Above all I told myself that it was not because he was hot; not because I was so very attracted to him (which I was).

The series of mental images: Edward at the police station with blood running down his face and shirt; Edward extending his hand to me to give me his sweatshirt under the streetlamp after my fight with Mike; Edward glaring at me with more venom than I had previously had directed toward me in my entire life; Edward sitting on his kitchen floor against the cabinets, his eyes squeezed shut and his knees drawn up to his chest like a kid's.

If Edward was a jigsaw puzzle, none of the pieces I had thus far connected to each other in any discernable way. Clearly, a good chunk of the puzzle was still missing and I wasn't going to be able to start putting it together using only what I had, as much as I might like to. It was going to require further investigation.

Unfortunately, and to both Alice's and my disappointment, Jazz never called her again after she got her car back from his place. Alice wasn't cocky, she was just realistic, and it had seemed pretty obvious that he was into her. She stopped short of blaming me for it, but I think deep down we both decided it was my fault. If I hadn't caused Edward to freak out or, well, whatever it was he'd done, Jazz would have undoubtedly followed up with Alice the first chance he got. Who wouldn't? It was Alice.

In any case, due to that little setback I was forced to take matters more fully into my own hands. I shouldn't have been so willing to go out of my way, but I absolutely was. At the very least, I was going to make Edward hear out my apology and then if he wanted to blow me off I would rest easy knowing that I'd done my part. He didn't owe me an explanation, although one would have been nice.

I admit that I cheated a little. Okay, kind of a lot. Jasper hadn't told me to my face that I wasn't welcome at his house, but he'd told Alice I shouldn't come by and that was enough. However, I remembered him telling Alice and I about how he and Edward were "requested" to spend their Saturdays at La Push for the time being, and I recognized that as just the opportunity I needed.

For the first time in a long while I planned a trip to visit the reservation, going so far as to call Billy and ask if he and Jake already had something going on for Saturday. I smiled to myself when Billy told me the only thing Jake was interested in was working on his car – trying to get that hunk of junk going had been Jake's main method of spending time for the better part of a year now. He didn't know that Billy was planning on buying him a functional used car for his nineteenth birthday but that Billy felt this was "good practice" for Jake.

In all the years that I'd been coming to La Push, with Charlie when I was younger and then alone after he died, it had changed very little. The same families living in the same houses, although some of them had grown or shrunk over time. Mostly the same cars parked in the same places. Same daily, weekly, yearly routines. When I'd been a child I'd really enjoyed that level of familiarity; now I wondered if any of them ever got bored of it and just wanted to leave. Jake's older sisters had gone away for college, but they'd also both moved back home as soon as they graduated. Rachel and Rebecca were close to my age, but I'd always gotten along better with Jake. He and I had more in common, whereas Rachel and Rebecca were what one might call "girly" girls. I was most definitely not a girly girl.

La Push was a good hour and a half from Port Angeles, and that was if you were driving. I was not driving, lacking a car of my own, so I spent the first half of the day on public transit. First from Port Angeles to Forks, and then on the twice-daily shuttle from Forks to La Push. I could have asked someone for a ride, probably, but I wanted to do this alone. I justified it by telling myself that it would give me a chance to catch up on my reading for Classical Lit, taking my copy of Sophocles' plays along with me on the journey.

It was mid afternoon when I finally arrived, trudging up the road to the Black house with my unopened book tucked into my bag. I worried that I was too late, that the guys would already be done for the day and have gone home, but then I passed Sam's and sure enough there was Jazz's truck. There were here. The minor rush of victory was enough to propel me the rest of the walk, and when I reached my destination I was further thrilled to find Jazz himself in Jake's garage with him, his head under the hood of Jake's truck as Jake did something in the cab.

It wasn't awkward at all, because neither Jazz nor Jake were awkward people. Jake greeted me with a rib-crushing bear hug and went on to introduce me to Jazz, whose eyebrows were raised in interest. I explained to Jake that I already happened to know Jazz and Edward, just by coincidence, and related to him the tale of Rose's ill-fated prank. That cracked Jake up, and before long the three of us were chatting away. I was careful not to mention Edward at all, not wanting to appear too curious, but in the back of my head I was wondering where he was.

Jazz wanted to know how I knew the Blacks and I told him about how Jake and I had essentially grown up together, our fathers the best of friends. Jake asserted that Charlie and Billy were "the original Bromance," although he then had to explain to Jazz what exactly a bromance was. Inwardly I was thinking that Jazz and Edward themselves qualified as one, possibly even on par with my dad and Billy. They certainly appeared to be quite close. After all, hadn't Edward basically just moved out here because Jazz was? They stuck together.

After not much more than twenty minutes or so, I looked up at the sound of shoes shuffling in dirt and saw Sam and Edward walking towards us while talking to each other. And even though I knew Edward was here at La Push, had been expecting him to show up any time, I still felt a sudden mounting in anxiety. This was it; I had him in my presence. Now what?

Good question, Swan. For whatever reason I hadn't thought ahead to this moment or formulated any sort of plan beyond "Edward and Jasper will be at La Push so that's where I need to go if I'm going to see them."

For his part, Edward made it apparent that the last thing he wanted to deal with was me. He barely returned my greeting and everything about his body language said he was uncomfortable in my presence.

...At the same time though, God he was good-looking. More than I remembered him being, even, which was pretty damn attractive. How was it that he got hotter and hotter with each ill-fated encounter? His hair was everywhere and he was covered in dirt and sweat, like something out of a Hot Construction Workers wall calendar. All that was missing was him nonchalantly flexing as he peeled his shirt off or else him raising his head to the sky as he doused himself with a bottle of water.

Get a hold of yourself. You are gawking.

I was gawking. I couldn't help it. And then Edward unceremoniously announced that he needed something from the truck and he and Jazz were walking away. Damn it, I'd missed my chance. Nothing I could do now but stick around and wait for them to come back, assuming they did. In the meantime, I turned to Jake to get what information I could from him about Edward and Jazz.

Which turned out to be not very much. Jazz knew his way around a car and had mentioned in passing to Jake that he'd worked as a mechanic at some point in the past. He did best with American cars, but had learned a lot about Hondas just because his own little truck was such a beat up hunk of junk. Jake told me that Edward didn't talk much at all, which was disappointing from an intelligence-gathering standpoint but also somewhat a relief. After all, it meant that it wasn't just around me that he was like that. That part, anyway, I was not to blame for. Small comfort but comfort nevertheless. Jazz was chattier, like Jake, but they didn't talk about anything of importance.

Edward had spent both Saturdays over at the Clearwater house doing favors for Sue. Jake sounded almost proud when he told me that Edward was essentially reroofing her entire house for her, all because she had one little leak. Sue Clearwater had extolled Edward's virtues at great length to the other guys when she stopped by Jake's to see if he or Billy needed anything from the store. Jake seems to like Edward a lot too. That was noteworthy and less comforting; so what, Edward was nice to everyone but me? Why?

Because of that assessment, I didn't see it coming at all when they returned to the garage and Jazz asked me if Alice and I wanted to do something. I'd expected that I would have to get as much out of them at La Push as I could before they left. Jake had said that the last week they'd gone to Embry's to hang out, so I'd guessed maybe I could do that too. I'd always gotten along well enough with the Calls and I knew everyone at La Push. This tiny voice in my head told me that my behavior was bordering on overly-interested, to a perhaps unhealthy extent, but I was too curious. Curious enough to force my company on Jazz and Edward and short bursts, and without a doubt enough to accept any invitations that they sent my way.

Things were only mildly uncomfortable on the ride back to Edward and Jazz's, and I tried as hard as I could to make them not be. Jasper made the effort to keep conversation going, but I noticed the way he kept glancing over at Edward as if to check in with him. Edward was being... not exactly nice, but at least he was behaving closer to a normal person. No mean comments or menacing words. No indication that he was going to do what he'd done last Sunday night in their kitchen. He wasn't even being snide to me, though the exchange was that he wasn't talking much at all.

Because the drive was so long, Alice was already waiting at their house when we arrived. She bounced down the porch with a grin on her face and waved as the truck approached, and Jazz grin and freed one hand from the steering wheel to give a little wave back. It was cute. In fact, it was safe to say that a lot of Jazz's mannerisms were strangely childlike and adorable for a grown man of his background.

He and Edward both needed showers, and badly, so Alice and I waited for them on the sofa in the barren living room as they got ready. Alice was all atwitter with excitement and no small amount of pleasure that Jazz had finally gotten back to her, though it was in a roundabout way through me. I vaguely wondered, had I not "accidentally" run into him and Edward at La Push, how it would have taken Jazz to call Alice. A week wasn't a long time in the grand scheme of things, but it had felt like ages to Alice after hitting it off with him so well.

I was distracted from that train of thought when the men tromped down the stairs in their clean clothes and towel-dried hair.

Edward was wearing another one of those thermals that were a touch too small for him, not that I was complaining. It was charcoal grey and stuck to his frame in a very appealing way. He also had on black slacks that had faded from too many washes just like his sweatshirt, which he was carrying in one hand. He wasn't smiling but he didn't look sulky, and I hoped that was a positive indicator. When Edward lifted his head his eyes met mine, and I averted my gaze down quickly in embarrassment. Yeah, you just got caught checking him out. Very suave.

"Guess we should take your car," Jazz said to Alice, scrunching up his face.

"Okay, let me just clear out the back seat," Alice agreed cheerfully, hopping to her feet. I followed her out to the car and we made room by tossing her school things in the trunk, and then I climbed into the back seat so that Jazz could take shotgun. Edward was just going to have to sit next to me – he'd done it in the truck and it wouldn't kill him.

Dinner was a bit of a tricky proposition, as it was quickly revealed that Edward was an extremely picky eater. Big shocker there. In Alice's car he point blank refused every dining establishment we suggested in Forks and the majority of the ones in Port Angeles, even without having been to a single one of them. I was beginning to get exasperated when Jazz leaned over and murmured something in Alice's ear that we couldn't hear from the back seat. She whispered something back and Jazz nodded.

"How about Italian food?" Alice asked at a louder volume, and Edward furrowed his brow.

"What kind of Italian?" he wanted to know.

Seriously? What kind of Italian? There was more than one kind?

Bella Italia was nice a place than any of us had considered going, of that much I was sure. But Edward didn't object to it and I liked their ravioli so it was as good a place as any. Actually Mike had taken me here on our first real date, what felt like centuries ago. I did not mention that exciting tidbit to my dining partners. I did order the ravioli.

Edward ordered, of all things, a salad with grilled chicken. What the hell? Not only that, but several times during the meal he glances over at Jazz's steak alfredo with obvious disgust. So, what, on top of everything else the man had an eating disorder? Okay, maybe not an eating disorder but... what kind of man orders a salad for dinner? My own father, my personal litmus test for manly behavior, would have had a steak and potatoes dinner almost every night if I would've let him. The occasional alternative would have been a cheeseburger and fries.

Conversation went well, so that was good. It flowed naturally, much as it had when Jazz had hung out with Alice and I last weekend. Edward even chimed in occasionally, and a few times he would same something funny only to him and Jazz and the two of them would grin. That was really nice to see. I liked Edward's face when he smiled, he corners of his eyes crinkly and his instinctive slight shaking of his head... I was determined to find a way to get him to smile like that for me.

You sound like a sap. I blamed the wine we'd ordered to go with our meal.

"We should go to the Gateway after this," Edward suggested to Jazz at one point, smirking and jabbing his friend with his elbow. "I bet they miss us."

At that Jazz threw his head back and full-on laughed, and Alice and I were left to wonder what the joke was. The Gateway Tavern was a notorious dive bar not one block from our current location, certainly not the type of place Alice and I would go for drinks. I knew Emmett and his buddies went there sometimes, when the college bars got boring for them or when they felt like slumming it a little. I knew from Jazz himself that it was a different bar he and Edward had been thrown out of, so what was so noteworthy about the Gateway?

Whatever it was, about the joke and about dinner in general, it put us all in a decent mood. During the drive back to the guys' house Jazz regaled us with details about just how helpless Jake's truck was and how attempting to work on it was near-farcical. I told him of Billy's plan to buy Jake a "real" car soon and Jazz got a big kick out of that. Then again, Jazz got a big kick out of just about everything. He was a foil of literary proportions to Edward's demeanor. Ah, see? I hadn't missed everything in class.

At the house Jazz invited Alice and I in to hang out for a bit and we accepted. He offered us beers and we sat in the living room, once more with Alice and me on the sofa and Jazz sitting cross-legged on the floor. Edward excused himself without explanation and vanished out the front door, leaving me to bear witness to Alice and Jazz's now much further ramped up flirtations.

They were in full swing, too, Jazz making little teasing remarks and Alice giggling in a way that had me rolling my eyes. Really, no wonder Edward had bailed. I was happy for them, I was, but I didn't want to personally bear witness to it. Third wheel status aside, it just reminded me of the way that Mike and I had never been like that. Not even in the beginning.

I'd been shy and we'd both been awkward. The initial courtship was drawn out and hesitant, and when we finally got together none of our friends were thrilled for us. I hadn't known Rose at the time, but if I had she would have made fun of Mike from the start. She'd always had a lukewarm opinion of him as a man, and the fact that I'd never exactly corrected her didn't help. But I don't know; Mike had been nice. He was steady and a reliable guy and he had plans. He was going to get his Business Communications degree and get a job at his father's company and take over some day. He was at ease with life, or he seemed like he was.

When we broke up that was lukewarm too. I told Mike I didn't think it was working out and he asked me to reconsider. I said I had been, for a good long while now, and he admitted that he kind of had been too. That had been it. No big fight, no long crying jags during which Alice had to rub my back and hand me fresh Kleenex. Just a lot of moping and feeling sorry for myself.

The last time I'd seen Mike our interaction had not been lukewarm. It had been horrible and upsetting and I didn't know why he'd behaved the way he had except he'd been drinking. Mike had never been like that with me before, and he hadn't attempted to contact me since then. I was glad. Dealing with Mike Newton was the last thing I wanted.

It was around the time when Jasper scooted closer to the couch to lean against Alice's legs in a fashion not unlike a puppy that I announced I need to get some fresh air and excused myself. I couldn't go upstairs in someone else's house without an escort, after all, and my options were extremely limited. I set my beer bottle with the other empties lining the counter around the sink and exited tentatively out the front door.

The sun had set a while ago, but the sky was still in that stage of dusk where it gradually grows to blackness and the insects make their presence more known. Edward was sitting alone on the porch swing sipping his beer, and he turned his head at my arrival.

I flashed back to the first time Alice and I came here, when I'd tried to return the sweatshirt he was wearing now and he'd essentially told me to go fuck myself. We were getting along okay right now, weren't we? Kind of? His facial expression betrayed nothing. I went to where Edward was sitting on the porch swing, digging his heels into the wood to push the swing back at an angle, and clasped my hands behind my back.

"Mind if I join you?" I asked, hastily adding, "You can say no."

Edward fixed his gaze on me.

"You think I wouldn't say no if you didn't tell me I could?" he wanted to know, nevertheless scooting over to make room for me.

I dropped onto the far end of the bench, keeping my feet off the ground in case Edward decided to lift his and send the swing forward. He did just that, and we began to rock gently back in forth. As the swing gradually lost momentum and returned to its natural position I examined Edward in quick glimpses that I hoped he couldn't see in the dark. If he did notice, he was pretending that he didn't.

"That's real nice of you, doing all that work on the Clearwater house," I told him, because it was. It made me think that Edward was different than how I'd originally pegged him, which was as a selfish prick.

Then again, everything Edward did left me baffled. His pattern of behavior didn't connect with itself at all. God, why did I find that so fascinating? Shouldn't have I been thinking to myself that it was a clear sign that I need to stay away? But no, here I was, looking for a pattern where there wasn't one. Edward snorted and looked directly at me, his expression wooden.

"It's not 'nice,' Bella," he corrected me without inflection. "It's court-mandated. Do you understand the difference?" Not mocking or patronizing, but like he genuinely thought I might not get what he was telling me.

I wasn't going to let it go there; I did get the difference.

"You didn't have to do all that though,' I pointed out, probably sounding stubborn when I'd meant to sound logical. "She never would've known any better, right? And Jake says you only have to be there one more Saturday."

Edward cocked his head, tilting it to the side as though to better facilitate examining me. I had to fight the urge to squirm under his stare. What was it about this guy, even? He didn't like me and that only made me want to make him like me. He wasn't nice to me and it made me want to prove to him that he was a nice person. Was it just because I found him so attractive? I didn't like that possibility. Hell, Bella, there are literally untold amounts of hot guys out there, many of them far more functional than this one. That wasn't the point though – was it?

He didn't say anything and after a while just turned his head away again to look across the porch. Since Edward hadn't spoken, the onus was on me to give it another shot.

"Do you miss Chicago at all?" There, that was a good conversation starter. I knew maybe five things about Edward, and I didn't think we'd reached the "What's prison like?" stage of our friendship yet.

Edward blew out a loud gust of air and took a sip from his beer, holding it expertly with just his thumb and forefingers as he tipped it into his mouth.

"Not really," he answered after swallowing, still looking at the trees or possibly nothing at all.

"I used to miss Arizona," I offered. "But I think what I really missed was my mom."

Arizona itself had held very little appeal for me. It was too hot in the summer and at night in the winter it was too cold and windy, but above all it was too dry. It was barren with that arid kind of heat that doesn't let anything grow, that dries you out and ruins your skin and makes your fingernails brittle. And I'd been a shy child with no friends that weren't imaginary or of the animal persuasion, and when I'd been there I'd just missed my dad back in Forks. It didn't stop me from telling him I missed Arizona when we fought during my snotty teenage years. If only there were a way to travel back in time and take back all those mean words, undo all those stupid fights about the dumbest shit like what time I had to be home...

I was so caught up in my own ruminations that I didn't notice right away that Edward had stiffened. He was gripping the neck of his beer bottle with all his fingers now in a way that wasn't natural at all, and I couldn't be sure in the dark but it looked as though he was clenching his jaw. Great; what had I done now? I wouldn't be able to ask, even, because God knew what he'd say to me then.

"I'll shut up now," I said, folding my hands together in my lap.

I was anticipating several minutes of uncomfortable silence during which I would ask myself why I was still sitting here with a guy that clearly did not want my presence. It was a good question. Maybe I just hated accepting defeat. When had this stopped being mostly about figuring Edward out and more focused on wanting to win him over? I suspected it was some time during dinner, watching him laughing and joking with Jazz. The question I didn't want to admit that I was asking myself was: Why couldn't Edward be like that with other people? Why not with me?

"You don't have to do that, you know," Edward stated, relaxing, lifting his beer again.

"Do what?"

He paused with the bottle at his lips before taking a drink from it.

"Say shit just to have something to say." Edward tipped the bottle into his mouth and emptied it the rest of the way. I frowned.

"I'm not," I argued. "I was genuinely wondering if you missed Chicago. Jazz said you lived there your whole life – I wanted to know what it was like to just up and leave."

Edward turned his head in the dark. "The only reason you're even out here is so your friend can be alone with Jazz, right?"

I shifted in my seat because no, that wasn't the only reason. It wasn't even the main reason. More like an excuse, really. There was no way in hell I was about to tell Edward that, of course. That would be just delightful, hearing what he had to say about that. The truth is, Edward, I've never met someone so hot and interesting. Now that I'm sure you aren't going to brutally murder me, I feel strangely compelled to be around you as much as I can. Oh yeah, he'd take that real well.

"God even knows what they're doing," I grumbled to myself. Cute little Alice and the Abercrombie model. Why did Alice have to be the one to have it so easy with the object of her attraction? It wasn't like Jazz was brooding or possibly two steps from losing his shit on her. No, he was all smiles and easy charm and really nice teeth and abs. I needed to work on my taste in men.

"Oh he's probably just showing her his stamp collection," Edward tossed out off-handed, gesturing with his palm carelessly as he said it.

I couldn't help it – I giggled. I got what he was insinuating about Alice but... well, as long as he was in a halfway decent mood. This was... I was enjoying this, a far cry from the last time the two of us had been out on this porch alone. Which reminded me; now that we were alone...

"Hey listen," I began, feeling a nervousness creep up on me, "I just wanted to say that, you know, I'm s-"

"Don't," Edward cut me off, sharply and abruptly. I looked at him, my eyes widening in surprise.

"But I just-"

"Do not," Edward interrupted again, his voice harsh enough to make me recoil. "I'm serious."

Yeah he was.

There it was again, out of nowhere, fast enough to make my head spin. I didn't understand. I bit my lip and stared down at my lap, blinking and trying not to get upset. I should just get up. I should just go inside and – ugh, I didn't want to go inside... Beside me, Edward took a few deep breaths in the dark, and I expected him to say something mean at any second. To blow up at me like he had before, or worse. Oh god, now what was I going to do?

"Don't say you're sorry. Alright? It makes it worse and I don't want to hear it. I just- Look, in fact, here: I'm sorry I said shit about your dad and you're sorry you whatever and we can just drop it, okay? Call it even?" He was gripping his beer tight again, patting his other hand hard against his thigh in a silent staccato and breathing harder than he really should have needed to.

"Okay," I whispered, hunching over.

That was fair enough, I guessed. It didn't feel right but I let it go because I wasn't too dense to understand that pushing it would without question set him off. We spent a tensed few minutes in silence, me examining my hands. Between the wine at dinner and the beer now I was decently buzzed, enough that it took me a half-step longer to process each thought.

What had I learned about Edward Cullen today? Salad eater, steak hater, re-roofer, smirker, not talkative even normally. Anti-apologies. Insanely touchy?

"I'm grabbing another beer," Edward announced, getting to his feet. He hesitated before adding, "You want one?"

I wasn't a beer drinker in the slightest and hadn't much enjoyed the first one, but I also wasn't about to turn down his offer.

"Yeah, thanks."

I smiled up at him and Edward nodded to himself. He pulled open the screen door to go back inside and I watched it clatter in the frame as his body disappeared into the foyer. During my brief solitude I rubbed my fingers restlessly on the arm of the porch swing and tried to decide what I was doing out here. Talking to Edward. Why? Because he fascinates you. Yeah... Because you have a little bit of a thing for him, don't you? Aw, crap.

Edward returned and handed me a beer before sitting on his end of the bench, the side of mouth curling up in amusement.

"You might be here a while," he told me casually before taking a drink.

It took me a moment to process what Edward was referring to, and when I understood I was thoroughly appalled. I made a sound to display my disgust, and Edward's smirk widened. Clearly he found my situation amusing.

"You look cold. Are you cold? Here, take my sweatshirt."

Edward set his beer down on the porch and began unzipping his sweatshirt. He shed the garment from his shoulders, leaning forward to peel it off of his arms, and extended it toward me. I shook my head.

"Come on, humor me. Please?"

It was the 'please' that won me over. I set my own beer down and turned my body toward Edward to accept the sweatshirt. He turned his body too, so our knees almost touched, and observed silently as I pulled on the too-large garment. This was some sort of strange mimicry of a previous encounter, a second time Edward engaged in an uncharacteristically sweet offer.

There was something about the way Edward was watching me that made my face heat, and I was glad it was too dark for him to discern my blush. Part of it was the alcohol buzz. Part of it was how charged it felt between us in that instant. I lifted my head and was taken aback by how closer Edward's face was – he'd leaned over at some point while I was bowed down to maneuver the zipper, and I guess so had I.

"Better?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. I nodded once, trying to get myself to stop staring at his mouth.

He had such a nice mouth. Like, really nice. And his lips were just slightly parted and he was kind of frowning, but in a concentration type of way rather than an unhappy type of way. Did that even make sense?

You're getting flustered. Cool it.

More than once, Rosalie had sat me down and explained that men think about sex constantly, and that they are almost always in the mood. She was trying to give me pep talks, advice for my ailing sex life with Mike.

"Just go for it, Bella," she'd told me impatiently on multiple occasions. "I guarantee that he'll be up for it. This isn't the fifties – women are allowed to initiate things. Men love it when women initiate things."

"It's true," Emmett had agreed when I'd consulted him for a second opinion. "You know that's how Rosie and I met, right? She totally picked me up at a party."

Of course, a man would have to be out of his right mind to turn down a knockout like Rose. If a guy ever rejected Rose it would be like dividing by zero – God only knew what would happen. The universe would implode. With me and Mike it had been different. I'd put in the effort like Rose suggested, and it was true that Mike was always willing enough, but we never threw ourselves at each other or anything like that.

Right now, in some of the worst timing ever, I very much wanted to throw myself at Edward Cullen, the worst choice ever. Wasn't that borderline suicidal? Yes, yes it was. Only minutes ago he'd been inches from making me cry. Then again, minutes prior to and following that he'd been joking and showing off that sexy smirk. And now he was leaning in toward me just enough, and he'd given me his sweatshirt, and God I was so inept here and when it came to men in general.

The plan had been to apologize to Edward and bury the hatchet with him. The plan had been to talk to him a little more and figure out what made time tick, something I was no closer to now than before. Just go for it, Bella. The advice had been meant to pertain to Mike and here I was, about to give it the least likely or practical application it could possibly have.

Acting quickly so I wouldn't have a change to lose my nerve, I brought my head forward and gave Edward a kiss on the mouth.

Well, smushed my lips against his for a couple seconds really, because he didn't reciprocate at all. And when I pulled back again to gape at him in shock at my own actions, Edward looked back at me in equal bafflement. Nice one, Bella.

Edward furrowed his brow in concentration, pursing his lips. I'd gone this far, had made myself known, and there was no going back. That had been such a stupid, stupid move. The moment I got home I was marching into Rose's bedroom and waking her up by punching her in the arm. Yeah she'd murder me, but if I hit hard enough she'd have a solid bruise at my funeral.

"That's what you want?" Edward asked me, confused and uncertain. He sounded like the idea had never even occurred to him, which it most likely hadn't, and that was embarrassing. I was no Rose, After all. I was no Alice.

Then again, he hadn't recoiled from me in horror yet either – what did that mean? In fact he hadn't moved at all, was still leaning in. Was looking down at me...

Aw hell.

Figuring I might as well push myself over the edge absolutely, I closed my eyes and gave kissing Edward a second attempt.

This one went better.

And by 'better' I mean 'Holy shit Edward kissed me back.' Really kissed me, too, putting his hand on my shoulder and pushing into me as he went right for it with his tongue. Sad to say, in all the years I'd been of kissing age, no one had ever kissed me like that.

It knocked me off my feet, was what it did. It was freakin' amazing. Edward lapped his tongue against mine and I returned it eagerly, thrilled when I felt his arm slide around my waist. I assumed that meant I could put my own arms around his neck, so I did.

Apparently Edward and I were getting along a lot better than I'd thought. Apparently Rose was an absolute genius. I was going try to bake her one of those cakes she liked, with the cream cheese frosting. I would help her plan a full attack on Chi Nu.

Not unlike the attack that Edward was committing against my mouth, and I now got why harlequin novels so often used the word "ravished" to describe kisses. Yeah, it had seemed stupid. Yeah, Edward was ravishing me right now.

Wow. Wow.

I let out a whimper and the next thing I knew Edward was pulling me onto his lap, to straddle him on the porch swing with my knees on either side of him on the bench. His feet were braced on the porch to hold the swing still as he drew me tight against him and I could feel him getting hard and well. That was pretty fast. This was all quite fast. Rose had been more right than I could have imagined. Edward squeezed my ass and groaned into my mouth, and I moaned back.

I was blissful here. This was a nice place to be. On the porch swing, making out with an incredibly hot guy. Feeling Edward's warm body beneath mine and his arms wrapped around me and frankly I'd never felt anything close to this with a man before. Not with Mike. I was lightheaded and now I was sure it wasn't from the alcohol – I was dizzy from Edward, from the way he was sort of handling me as he kissed me. I felt sexy.

"Mm," Edward grunted, breaking away from my mouth to lower his lips to my neck. I sighed and leaned into him more, listening to his breathing against my skin in the silence of the porch. He was panting, running his hands up under my shirt and caressing the skin of my bare back, and Jesus it felt good. His fingertips were rough but I liked that because... it seemed manly, I guess. Edward was a man.

I tangled my fingers into his hard the way I'd been dying to do, and it was like silk. I tugged lightly, and Edward groaned against my neck.

Uh Bella? You barely just met this guy, remember? Before tonight you were reasonably sure he hated you.

Ugh, right. As much as I was enjoying myself, and I unquestionably was, I couldn't let this go further. Not yet. Edward and I needed to get to know each other properly. We needed to start over with a real conversation and Edward needed to-

He was feeling for the fly of my jeans, was what he was doing, his mouth back on mine as he undid the button and went for the zipper.

"Wait!" I gasped, bracing my hands on Edward's shoulder to push myself back. Edward stilled his hands but frowned up at me.

"Wait?" he echoed.

"Yeah, uhm," I was blushing furiously now, embarrassed that I'd gotten so carried away. "I mean, we don't really know each other all that well yet, and I do like you, but we should wait..."

"Wait."

Edward repeated the word again, and now his voice was back to the tonelessness I was more familiar with from him. My heart sank at that lack of tone, sensing that whatever moment we'd just shared was officially over. Edward released me and raked one of his hands through his hair, regarding me blankly.

"Wait for what, Bella? Our Senior Prom? Jesus Christ. Get off me."

It was my turn to be confused, But Edward had no patience. He set his hands on my hips and easily lifted me off of his lap, pushing me to the bench beside him as he got to his feet. I could see him trembling, visibly shaken.

I was left to watch in utter bewilderment as Edward went to the screen door and yanked it open, running his free hand through his hair again. He didn't even glance back at me before going inside and letting the screen fall shut, and then I was alone on the porch.

*********

Oh man! Still with me here? Okay. Sooo what do we think? Yay? Nay? Next chapter is going to be from Edward's point of view, and it might take a bit longer as I'm pretty sick with the flu (Which is why I'm putting this chapter up now instead of yesterday as I'd promised. Sorry about that). Hope you all have a lovely day!

P.S. Fifty reviews! Wow! Thank you all so much. I'm going to celebrate by napping.