This chapter was beta'd by Fran.

I own nothing.

April 22nd, 2012

1:22 p.m.

"I don't get it." Emmett shakes his head, laughing to himself. "I don't understand you, man. You've already slipped her the D. Why don't you just do it?"

I want to tell him. I do. But I don't think he'd get it.

"I don't know." I shrug. "It's … it's just the principle. You know?"

"Dude." Emmett drops the paintbrush in his hand, stepping away from the garage. "You don't know shit about a principle. And if you're trying to romance her up, it's moot. That girl looks at you like she's over the moon. Stars in her eyes and shit."

I smirk to myself, not really knowing how to tell Emmett my logic.

Bella makes me nervous. She inadvertently makes me question myself, makes me question my morals and my conduct. I think there's something about the good in people that makes us subconsciously strive to do better.

Be better.

I am simple, boring.

But maybe I can be more.

"I, for one, think Edward is being smart." Rosalie sits crisscross on the sidewalk by our feet. She has a joint between her paint-streaked fingers, and a pair of blue sunglasses pushed high on her nose. "He thinks he made a mistake."

We're at Mrs. Banner's house because she's paying us to paint her garage, only Rosalie isn't really supposed to be here. She's definitely not supposed to have that joint either, but my brother drags Rose wherever he goes. I should find it annoying, but right now, I kind of like Rosalie better than I like my own brother.

"Bella is a good girl. He doesn't want to fuck up whatever it is they have," Peanut Gallery continues on, shrugging her shoulders. "Just because they had sex already doesn't mean they should rush it. He'll kiss her when it's right."

Emmett widens his arms at his girlfriend, his face, incredulous. "Who said anything about rushing? It's kissing. He already fuc―"

"They're sixteen, Emmett!" she yells over him. "We were sixteen once."

"Like a day ago," I mutter.

"You were terrified to kiss me," Rosalie tells Emmett, stubbing the joint out by her feet. "Your hands shook, you idiot."

"My hands did not shake." He side-eyes me to gauge my reaction. He sees me watching their exchange and he nods to Rose, squaring his shoulders defensively. "I was showing you my spirit fingers."

She laughs at him, shaking her head. "I love you."

Emmett arches an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. "I thought I was an idiot?"

She springs to her feet, jumping up to kiss Emmett on the cheek. "Sometimes, yeah. But you're myidiot."

I roll my eyes, turning back to the garage. I try to focus on the brush strokes, but my concentration is always slipping over this girl.

I know it's not healthy, but maybe she is better for me. Since we started talking, my math grade went from a C- to a B-, and my attendance is still a whopping ninety percent. I don't spend Friday evening through Sunday morning drinking, and I don't really dwell on small things such as country music as much. Still, she's always there, at the back of my mind.

I want to kiss Bella—no, I want to do a whole lot more than kiss her. Who wouldn't? But this is bigger than kissing. It's bigger than working up the courage to show her affection; this is the new girl who calls me in the middle of the night to make me laugh. This is New Beginnings. She's unusual, silly-happy, loveable, and so much more innocent than people give her credit for.

I've never had a problem with getting what I want. I've never been afraid to kiss a girl, not like this; the palm-sweating, spirit-fingers kind of afraid. But I'mterrified to kiss her.

I am simple, but I am negative.

I'm a lurker in the dark.

My mind goes to scary places sometimes, and I doubt myself too often. I don't think I'm smart enough for college, and I don't think I'm good enough for this girl, but I can try to be. I'm falling for a girl who's a lover of the light.

My dad once told me that good things come to those who wait, but better things come to those who are patient. I never actually understood the difference between the two.

Maybe patience is different, though.

Maybe patience is slower; it's taking the time to understand something, not idly standing by for it. Maybe patience is diligence and caution. It's better than waiting. It's knowing what you're waiting for, and knowing what you have to lose.

"Just give it time, Edward." I look over my shoulder to see Rose smiling at me. "You'll know when, just make sure you're sober. She's not going anywhere."

I can do this.

I can have patience.