A/N - You cover me with your sweet, sweet waffle love. It makes me feel all syrupy and warm and happy. Thank you so much for all the wonderful feedback and reviews. You people are the biscuit. The rockin' biscuit, you are. I have no idea what that means, but I mean it with all the love and affection in my heart.

I own no part of Twilight. None at all. Not even an exclamation point, or a hyphen.

The girls are home after their weekend in LA -

# # #

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow

True to her word, Alice drops me off and runs to Jasper's as quickly as she can, breaking some land-speed records along the way. I should probably text her and tell her to have Jasper give me his excuse for not coming in to work tomorrow, because I can't imagine he'll be able to walk more than two steps without falling over by the time she's through with him.

I take our bags and muscle them in through the front door, then drop them next to the front staircase. I'm tired, and a little hungry, but more than either of those two things, I am feeling the acute lack of Edward. It's Sunday night, and I've spent the last three days in self-imposed exile from the one person I want to be with more than anyone. Time for that to end. I take my phone out and dial his number.

He picks up on the first ring. He's either been waiting for my call, or he's a member of the Psychic Friends Network. "Bella?"

"Hey," I smile. The smile in my voice is so obvious that it's practically a word all by itself.

I can hear Edward clearing his throat. "Uhm, where are you?"

"I just got home a few minutes ago," I say. I am stretching the truth a little bit there, because I just got home about one minute ago. "Where are you?"

Edward still sounds as though he's got something stuck in his windpipe. "I'm, uhm, at the hospital. It's – what time is it? – 11?"

I check my watch. "Just after. Hey, are you okay? You sound like you're choking over there. You might want to see a doctor about that."

More throat clearing. "No, no, I'm fine, it's fine. Just a little, ah, well…"

I have to laugh, because he's adorable and I'm so glad to hear his voice that it makes me a bit giddy. "Edward? Are you maybe a little choked up because I called you?"

He's laughing too. "You want the absolute truth? The absolute truth is that just now, when I heard your voice, it kind of froze a few basic functions for a moment."

"You're not going to whinny at me again, are you?"

"Bella, I can't deny that whinnying is a definite possibility. I apologize in advance." He is mock-serious. "How was LA?"

"Really great. Alice hooked up with a bunch of stylists and a ton of her pieces are spoken for. We went to an after-show party for a movie premiere, and I drank two pomegranate martinis. Oh – and we saw Wilmer Valderrama come out of a convenience store carrying two Slim Jims and a six-pack of Budweiser."

"How random," he says.

"Isn't it though?" I gather my nerve. "Edward? I need to tell you something very important."

"Mmhmm?"

"I really missed you this weekend."

More throat clearing follows this statement, and I discover that I kind of enjoy being able to mess with him this way. It's not nice of me, but it's a fact. Plus, you know, payback for all the times he's made me blush to the roots of my hair just by being in my general vicinity. I'm still having a difficult time believing that I can affect him at all.

"When can I see you?" he asks. I think what he's really asking is "Is it too late to come over right now?", and the answer to that one is definitely "yes". Tragically, but definitely, "yes".

"I'm done with school tomorrow at about four."

"I've got the late shift – I'm on 'til eleven."

"Then I guess I'll see you at rehearsal on Tuesday," I say sadly.

He sighs. "Okay, Tuesday. What are you doing on Wednesday? I have the day off."

"I think I'm – no, wait. Dammit. We have a facultywide seminar on Wednesday evening for the Fall semester," I grimace. "I can't blow it off, because it's my first full term."

I hear a loud exhale on the other end of the phone. "And then Thursday is rehearsal again. Okay, listen," Edward says. "I'm going to stab whoever I need to stab over here to get Friday night off. You stab whoever you need to stab to make sure your Friday evening is free. If it involves bribery, I'll set up some kind of slush fund, but failure is not an option. I honestly don't care if either one of us is unemployed as a result."

"So, you're planning a date that involves felonies and bread lines. Most guys just go for dinner and a movie," I hint. "And p.s., there's that whole 'do no harm' thing you promised."

"I like to make a strong impression," he sniffs. "And any damage I do I'll happily repair sometime on Saturday. Or Sunday. Or Monday. We've got machines and stuff to keep people alive indefinitely around here."

"I admire your ethical flexibility. And asking me to spend the night in a lock-up with you is definitely coming on all kinds of strong."

"Bella, I really can't have this conversation with you right now. If I do, I'll start wheeling men into the maternity ward and taking stray dogs into the CAT scan suite."

"Stop it, brain-emptier. Stealer of words and reasons," I laugh. "Aren't you done for the night over there?"

"Just about. I'd tell you what's keeping me here, but it's one of those blood-and-guts things that you don't seem to like me to discuss."

"Fair enough. I hope you get out of there soon, though, and that you can patch Humpty Dumpty together again."

Edward sighs. "Okay. See you on Tuesday?"

"Tuesday," I agree. "Goodnight, Edward."

"'night, Bella. Bella?"

"Mhmm?"

"I really missed you too. In case you hadn't already reached that conclusion."

"Go. Heal the sick. I'll talk to you tomorrow," I smile, and end the call.

I'm so freaking glad to be home. I'm just so freaking glad.

Monday drags along endlessly. Jasper didn't make the departmental staff meeting, but I run into him after my late morning class when I go to pick up my mail. He looks haggard, and the tie around his neck is really more a suggestion of propriety than it is an actual fashion statement.

I know I shouldn't, but I can't resist. "Rough night, cowboy?"

He yawns in my face, then grins so widely that I'm once again in a position to admire the handiwork of his dentist. "No, ma'am. Not really."

I snicker back at him. "I think she missed you a little bit, Professor Whitlock."

He yawns again in response, then sighs. "I missed her too. And I don't really want to talk about it with you anymore, because it's none of your business, if you don't mind my telling you so." He gives me a look that's both friendly and firm at the same time.

I was already very fond of Jasper, but the fact that he's determined to be a gentleman about it makes me love him a little bit more, and makes me happy for my friend.

Class is finished by three-thirty, and I'm home by a quarter 'til five. I pace around for a while, throwing a load of laundry into the machine and putting away my bag from the weekend. By five o'clock, I'm bored and restless.

I walk into the kitchen and start to make lasagna. Alice likes the vegetarian lasagna that I make, but I decide I'm going to need a little meat for this one. I make a quick marinara, brown the meat, dig the ricotta and mozzarella cheeses out from the back of the fridge, boil the noodles, and sauté some baby Portobello mushrooms. I start assembling the lasagna, layer by layer, adding a layer of creamed spinach as well. I top it off with some mozzarella and a thin layer of grated pecorino romano, then put it in the oven to bake for forty minutes. While it's baking, I run upstairs to freshen up and make sure that I don't have pen marks on my forehead or anything too obviously teachery about me. I brush my hair and put on a little lip gloss, which is about as far as I'm usually willing to go with makeup.

When the lasagna's done, I pull it out of the oven, cut it in half, and put half into a smaller dish, which I wrap with aluminum foil. I head on over to the hospital.

It's just after seven-thirty when I get there. I park the car and walk through the emergency entrance, stopping at the desk to see if one of the nurses can call Edward for me, if he's not too busy.

The nurse at the desk looks me up and down. She reminds me of a passport agent – cold, gray, efficient, intimidating. "You the reason that one keeps bumping into furniture around here lately?" She narrows her eyes at me.

I hardly know how to answer her. "I don't know," I admit nervously. "Maybe he's just naturally clumsy?"

She snorts and pages him to come to the desk. He takes his sweet time getting here, too – it's a full ten minutes before the exam room doors swing open and Edward appears.

He's momentarily stunned to see me standing there, but recovers quickly and rushes over. "Bella? Is everything okay?"

I grin at him and hold up the dish with the lasagna. "I brought you dinner, so that you can do a little contrast and compare."

The nurse rolls her eyes. "Boy, find someplace to sit down and eat. I don't want you two standing around here making me listen to you all night long."

Edward's cheeks turn faintly pink as he puts his hand at the small of my back and ushers me into the exam area, where we turn down a hallway and end up in the doctor's lounge.

"Nurse Ratched scares me a little," I confess.

He laughs. "I know – I always look around for a doormat to wipe my feet on when she's on duty."

We sit down at one of the small tables near the kitchen area of the lounge, and I remove the cover to the lasagna and hand him a fork and a knife. "There. I even laced it with hashish to make sure you'd favor it over Elle's."

"You made me hash lasagna?"

"Yeah, well, I wanted to hedge my bet a little bit. You might want to microwave that, Chef Masen – it's probably no better than room temperature by now."

"Are you kidding me? I don't care," he grins, and starts mowing joyfully through the lasagna. I sit and watch him eat. He's methodical in his approach to a meal, cutting neatly and evenly. After he's taken a dozen bites, he pauses to look at me and cocks an eyebrow. "Can I ask what made you come all the way over here tonight to bring me this awesome hash lasagna that leaves Elle's admittedly-fantastic-but-now-obviously-inferior version in the dust?"

His eyes pull me in like the tractor beams of the Starship Edward. "I just…I just wanted to see you." I can't make that look or sound casual, no matter how hard I might try. I don't try, because what's the point? I mean it, so I say it. I'm in this now, and if I'm in it, I'm going to do more than dip a toe in here and there. Nothing great is lightly won.

"Bella," he says quietly, and all the lights around us seem to fade, leaving us in a spotlight. He leans across the table and kisses me, a tender marinara kiss full of agreement. He wanted to see me too, his kiss tells me.

Nurse Ratched chooses this moment to stride into the lounge and practically growl at us. "Doctor, if you're done with dessert over there, we've got incoming with chest pains. ETA five minutes."

Edward heaves a sigh and stands up. "Crap. I have to go play doctor now."

"I'll play nurse for you, but only if there's no blood involved," I joke, standing up as well.

The look on his face is riveting. He walks quickly toward me, backing me against the wall of the lounge and placing a hand on either side of my head. "Bella," he says through slightly gritted teeth. "Please don't say things like 'I'll play nurse' around me unless you mean it. I like to think of myself as a civilized person, but I've got limits, and you're reaching them."

Holy crap. The hotness. Lust sublimation activated.

He bends his head down and I'm the lucky recipient of a kiss which is brief but nonetheless electrifying in intensity. "Just don't hold me back with one hand and pull me forward with the other, okay? That's all I'm asking. It's not fair," he says, slightly breathless.

My knees are quivering. I attempt to nod because the words are gone again. Jesus, they're escaping with frightening regularity these days. He takes a deep breath and straightens his back, removing his hands from the wall and giving me space to move again. I don't know how to tell him that I no longer need or want that space, and anyway, he's got an ambulance full of trouble headed his way, so now is not the time for this conversation.

He's also contrite now, which kills me. "I'm sorry, Bella. I'm really sorry," he says sadly. "I didn't mean to lose it like that. I'm just trying to give you the absolute truth, and sometimes that absolute truth doesn't make me sound very noble."

"Edward, don't…," I start. We can hear sirens now, and he's got to go, so I don't have a chance to tell him that he was right and I was wrong.

As I'm driving home, I realize that there is no way I will make it past our date on Friday night without giving myself to this strange, smart, beautiful man, and taking him in return. The agony of my wait is over. And I'm very, very sure about that. I care about the possible consequence of heartbreak, but I don't care enough about it to let it stop me.

We block Act V in rehearsal on Tuesday. I watch Benedick challenge Claudio, and seeing Edward be so menacing sends chills down my spine.

'I will make it good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare.

Do me right, or I will protest your cowardice. You have killed a sweet lady,

and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me hear from you.'

Jasper looks a little startled too. I'm not sure if that's because it's a natural reaction for Claudio to have, or if it's because seeing the customarily calm and rational Edward bare his teeth is so strange. He really sounds pissed, and I realize that I saw the faintest traces of that anger when he backed me against a wall on Monday night. He's using Benedick to vent his frustration about me. How can I tell him that there are no more obstacles in our path? Is it even wise to announce something like that? Probably not here, surrounded by our cast mates, in the basement of the community center.

When we get to Scene ii, Benedick and I have our sweet moment. He looks at me and says

'And I pray thee now, tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?'

Edward has shown me no bad parts – not even an addiction to televised bass fishing. I couldn't answer that question if we were really talking to each other. Beatrice teases him, though:

'For them all together, which maintained so politic a state of evil that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them. But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me?'

I don't want to suffer love anymore, Edward. I don't want to make you wait. I don't want to make me wait.

Benedick is saying

'Serve God, love me, and mend.'

I will, Edward. I am mending. You are mending me.

Our walk out to my car is interrupted by Ben, who is playing Leonato.

"Hey you guys, wait up!" he shouts as we're walking out the door. "Listen," he says, as we climb the stairs and head outside. "I was thinking it might be kind of fun to do a cast party or something around Labor Day. You know, just get us out of the basement here and give us all a chance to hang out before we go into the final push to get the show up. Any ideas?"

I think for a minute. "Well, we could do it in a bar or something, but that's just trading one room for another," I smile. "Let me check – Alice's parents have a big place nearby, and they've got a huge pool in the backyard. Maybe we can do a 'farewell to summer" pool party for the cast?"

Ben is instantly in love with this idea. "That would be absolutely stellar. Can you ask her about it, like, tonight, maybe?"

I nod, even though I'm sure Alice will agree to the scheme, and Carlisle and Esme are the world's most enthusiastic host and hostess. "I'll check with her and have your answer on Thursday. Is that okay?"

"You bet. And we'll make it a kind of BYO deal, where everyone has to show up with a bag of chips or a bottle of something."

We're at my car, and Ben doesn't seem to be in a hurry to go anywhere. Edward and I look at each other to see if either one of us has a clue as to how to get rid of him. We don't.

"Okay, so I'll talk to you on Thursday. Thanks for doing this, Bella," Ben says. The he turns to Edward. "Hey man, where are you parked?" Edward indicates with his hand that he's in the parking lot across the street. "Me too. Come on – I'll walk you over."

We could say that we'd like to be alone and thank Ben for the offer, but then he'd probably just watch us make out next to my car, and that thought doesn't make me comfortable. I don't want everyone to know this about us just yet. The little kisses I get before we start to rehearse are innocent and friendly, but the kisses which happen out here by the car are no such thing. And they belong to us.

Edward guesses what I'm thinking, as usual, so he gives me a rueful smile and says "Goodnight, Bella," then he follows Ben across the street.

On Wednesday, he calls me to let me know that the library a few blocks away from his house is showing It Happened One Night on a large outdoor screen as part of their "Films Out of Doors" series on Friday night. He wants to know if I'd be interested in making it a picnic dinner and a movie, which sounds great to me, so I readily agree. I've never seen It Happened One Night, so Edward launches into a brief synopsis of the plot. How can I argue with Clark Gable being all moody and gruff and super-smart and sassy Claudette Colbert giving him grief? Plus, Frank Capra directed it, so it's got to be happy and fun and snappy. I tell Edward that I'll bring the food because I don't want to dine on Ritz crackers and American cheese. He's insulted, and says his plan was movie-appropriate popcorn and shrimp cocktail.

"Shrimp cocktail, Edward? You rarely see shrimp cocktail at the concession stand in a movie theatre. Is this part of your strong impression plan or something?"

"Fine. I'll make some nachos and toss a few Raisinets on top," he answers.

"Milk Duds, please. Raisinets don't melt well enough and raisins have no business in the nacho universe. If it's just gooey carmelly chocolate, I can pretend it's mole poblano."

"You're really very bossy, and difficult to please. I give up – bring the food if it'll make you happy," he sighs. "Did you stab the appropriate people to make sure you're clear on Friday?"

"Yep – they're all dead. How about yours?"

"Worm meat. The movie starts at eight. I'll pick you up from your house at about seven, okay?"

"Perfect. Are you bringing a blanket and chairs?"

"Chairs? What kind of a picnic would it be with chairs?" he laughs.

"Says Mister 'I'm bringing shrimp cocktail to the movies'."

"I'm bringing the blanket."

"See you tomorrow at rehearsal, then."

We finish blocking Act V at rehearsal on Thursday. Benedick and Beatrice admit that they love each other, and their story ends with a kiss. Edward gives me a chaste peck on the lips, and it's weird, because it's Edward kissing me, but it's also not an Edward kiss. These are lips that I'm kissing on a fairly regular basis these days, so it's odd to have them feel different. But they do.

I head Ben off early and let him know that we've got a green light for the pool party next weekend at Carlisle and Esme's. We just need to let them know which day of the weekend we're talking about. Ben gives Alice a hug to thank her, and I see Jasper's eyes spin briefly, like the wheels in a slot machine. He keeps the irrational jealousy in check, though, and doesn't make any comment.

Ben is telling everyone about the pool party plan, and they all seem pretty excited. Even Banner wants to come along, which I'm really happy about – none of us get much of a chance to yak when we're here, because there's a LOT of work to do on this production and we don't have months and months to get it right.

Edward and I are finally alone again for the first time since Monday as we walk out to my car. I'm so anxious to really kiss him that I lose no time in grabbing him by his shoulders and laying one on him in no uncertain terms. Edward is right there with me – his arms wrap around my waist and he lifts me up off the ground, crushing me against him and exhaling as though he'd just spent ten minutes under water. These are the lips I know, the ones I can't wait to get my lips next to. I break the kiss only when I'm gasping for air, and Edward removes one hand from around me so that he can put it against his forehead.

"Wow. I'm really dizzy," he laughs, panting.

"Me too. And this concrete doesn't look like a great place on which to take an unscheduled nap." I'm still breathless and flushed, the heat pulsing throughout my entire body displayed in my face.

Edward puts his hand on my cheek. "I really love the way you blush. Even under this hideous streetlight, you look like this beautiful dream I can't believe I get to see almost every day. If I ever saw this blush in candlelight, I'd have to quit my job and take up painting. 'I have marked a thousand blushing apparitions to start into her face'," he quotes the Friar's lines quietly.

"'And in her eye there hath appeared a fire,'" I murmur.

His eyebrows raise and he grins at me. "Is that a fact?"

I can only nod, and he bends down to kiss me again. Within seconds, we're completely worked up once more. I wish public nudity wasn't a fineable offense in this town. Edward slides his hands up the sides of my torso, thumbs coming to rest directly next to my breasts, the sensation making me shiver and press myself into him.

"Bella," he groans against my lips. "Come on – I can't…"

I don't want to have sex for the first time with Edward on the street. Or in my car. And that's where this is rapidly headed, because there is absolutely no denying the fact that if we keep this up for another few seconds, there will be no way to stop the freight train of want that's barreling down the track to which we're both roped and tied.

He pulls himself away from me, panting again. "You need to leave now before I do something really stupid," he rasps, his voice an octave or two lower than usual.

I force myself to straighten up and pay attention to the logic he's throwing down. We have tomorrow night, and that has to be soon enough.

"Okay, okay, I know. You're right," I agree reluctantly, wistfully. I shake my head to restore myself and smile at him. "Seven tomorrow?"

"I'll probably be circling your block by six forty-five," he smiles back, giving me one final quick, ferocious hug. "Go. Now. Please."

When I get home, Alice is sitting at the kitchen table, going through a stack of unopened mail. She takes one look at my face and drops the letter she's opening. "Spill," she commands.

I let out a ragged breath. "Al, you know that feeling where you're standing on the edge of a cliff, about to jump? I'm there," I tell her.

Alice appraises me with her sharp, all-seeing eyes. "You telling me you and Edward are finally gonna consummate this baby?"

I give her one nod, and then sink down to sit across from her. Alice is all business at this point, because she knows me well enough to know that the attitude is just what I need. I can't talk about how I'm feeling, and I don't need to. She's able to sort that stuff out in the blink of an eye and cut to the heart of the matter.

"Right. First things first," she says, clapping her hands together and then rubbing them. "Shave or wax? Wardrobe? Overnight kit? Protection? Conversation about diseases, etc.?"

"Jesus, Al," I'm blushing now. "Come on, you're freaking me out."

Alice sighs. "You need to be practical, Bel, 'cause you're not a "wing it" girl like me. I'm not saying you have to do anything at all tomorrow night, but wouldn't it be nice to be, you know, prepared for any eventuality?"

I can see her point. I'm going to be nervous enough without adding to the drama. She drags me upstairs to assess my wardrobe situation and then forces me into the bathroom to commune with her hot wax apparatus. I'm still on the pill, so protection isn't an issue, but we definitely haven't had a safety chat and I have no idea how to raise that subject with Edward. The fact that I'm too embarrassed to ask a question like that makes me wonder whether we're ready for this, but hell, I need to bite the bullet and get over that.

I take my toiletry bag and shove some toothpaste, a toothbrush, some shampoo, conditioner, and deodorant into it. I take a small backpack and put a change of clothes and the toiletry bag inside. I have no interest in doing a walk of shame at my age, and I'm loads more comfortable if I know that a change of underwear is possible. I have to choose what I'm taking very carefully, because Edward is picking me up, and I don't want to be loading a suitcase into his car as that might make my intentions a little obvious. The backpack is leather and can kind of double for a really casual handbag, so that's why I chose it.

God, I never planned anything with Jake. I just threw myself into the situation and didn't care about tomorrows. I think I'm preparing with Edward because I care a lot about tomorrows. I want as many of them as possible. No pressure there, Bella.

By Friday night at 6:30, I'm in a rare state of nerves. Somehow, knowing what I want hasn't calmed me down one bit. All I can think about is how this is going to play out. Will I just leap on him the minute I see him? Will he fire the opening salvo? Will we make this decision while we're watching the movie, or will it wait until after the movie is finished? I'm lightheaded just contemplating all the possible scenarios. I might be too freaked out to do anything at all at this point.

I made some prosciutto, mozzarella, basil and tomato panini sandwiches for us to eat while we're watching the movie. I also have some grapes and a can of mixed roasted nuts in there (no peanuts, because I want the cashews and the almonds, not filler nuts). I packed those into a soft-sided cooler along with napkins, a bottle of my favorite cab, and some plastic cups. I'm as ready as I'm going to get. Alice isn't here – she drove to Jasper's about an hour ago, but read me the riot act before she left. It helped for about ten minutes, and then I slipped back into a frenzy.

The doorbell rings at six-fifty, and there's Edward, looking as though he was forged by the hands of exceptionally talented artisan gods.

"Hey," he smiles. "I know I'm early, but I couldn't drive around the block again without raising suspicion. You've got two neighbors out walking their dogs right now."

I take one look at him and forget my own name for a minute, which is definitely not helping matters. He looks at me because I haven't said a word yet, and then suddenly he's laughing at me.

Edward narrows his eyes in playful suspicion. "Bella? Did you sneak a piece of hash lasagna before you opened the door?"

Idiotically, this calms me down almost immediately, and I can answer him. "No, I'm just pretty excited that my neighbors think I have my very own stalker. I'm the first on the block to have one, unless you count plastic-lawn-rabbit lady, but I'm not sure imaginary stalkers should qualify."

"Want me to skulk around and peek into a few of your windows to make it look good?"

I laugh and shake my head. "Don't rile 'em up. You're probably already wanted for murdering colleagues to get the night off."

He grabs the cooler, I sling my backpack over my shoulder, and we head to the car.

The lawn in front of the library is already filling up with Friday night movie buffs when we arrive. Edward parks the car and takes a big blanket out of the trunk, which he rolls up and sticks under his arm. He's got the cooler in one hand and is holding my hand on the other side. After having a conversation about how close to the screen we generally like to sit, we discover that we're both center/center people, so we stake out a good spot in the middle, spread the blanket, and open up the cooler.

"No shrimp?" he pouts.

"Try a sandwich instead," I suggest.

We're munching and drinking when the movie starts, and I'm instantly and totally enthralled by it. It's wickedly smart and funny, and it has a lot to say about class distinctions. It's so obvious that Peter and Ellie are falling in love with each other – I want to slap them both for not realizing it. The blanket Peter hangs between their beds when they're in the hotel room reminds me of the wall I put between Edward and myself. Peter doesn't want that blanket there, and Ellie doesn't want it either. I don't want my wall there anymore, and I sure hope Edward agrees. I'm pretty sure he does.

Edward and I are lying on our stomachs next to each other, our heads propped up by our hands. We're close, but not touching, and that's not close enough for me. I scoot over so that our shoulders are rubbing against one another, and Edward turns his face from the screen to look at me. Without saying a word, we both drop our heads down to the blanket and turn to lie on our sides so that we're facing each other. He takes my hand in his and curls his arm up so that the knot of our hands rests between our two bodies. We just lie there, looking at each other, listening to the voices from the movie, listening to Peter tell Ellie about the fact that he's never been in love, and that if he ever finds the right girl, he'll take her to this tiny island he once saw in the Pacific, where night and moon and water all become one.

"Take me with you, Peter. Take me to your island. I want to do all those things you talked about," Ellie says.

I'm not nervous anymore. Whatever happens next will be the right thing, and if I get hurt, it will have been worth it.

Ellie thinks Peter's abandoned her, so she goes back home to marry King Westley, the biggest drip in the universe. Peter follows her to New York, refusing to accept the $10,000 reward for finding her. Ellie's father asks Peter if he's in love with her.

"I asked you a simple question: do you love her?"

"Yes! But don't hold that against me – I'm a little screwy myself."

Ellie's running from the church in the middle of her wedding. She's running away from the safety and security of the world she knows and running toward the unknown with Peter. Because safe means nothing when you feel the way she feels. Safe is dangerous when you feel the way she feels.

They elope, and the blanket wall comes tumbling down.

The end credits are rolling, and neither Edward nor I have moved a muscle in for almost an hour. All around us, people are gathering up their things, packing up, going home.

I look at Edward and echo the words Ellie spoke a short time ago: "Take me with you."

As if we're in a dream, we stand slowly and pack up our things. Edward holds my hand again and we start walking. I vaguely recall that we drove here, and Edward's car is still parked near the library, but we don't seem to be able to focus enough to find it, so we just walk to his house instead. We're in no rush now – we stroll quietly along together. When we get to his door, he lets go of my hand to open it up, then he stands aside to let me in first.

His house is large and comfortable. We put our things down in the hallway, and I take in the masculine air of the place: the big coffee-colored leather couches, the wood floor, the large, low, square table in the center of the living room, strewn with mail. Edward drops his keys into a plate on a small table near the front door. He's just standing behind me, watching me as I learn this space.

Finally, I turn to face him. In one step, I close the distance between us, and I put my arms around his neck. The look on his face – the mingled passion, and confusion, and hesitation – I'm sure it's echoed on my own. His lips touch mine for a moment. "Is this all right? Is this really all right now?" they ask.

My lips answer "Quit stalling. Come here. I need you." My lips are apparently slightly bitchy – I need to talk to them about that when I have some free time.

It's at that moment that the dreamlike state ends and all hell breaks loose. We go from quiet and hesitant to full-on conflagration in the blink of an eye. I don't know where to touch him first, and he seems to be having the same issue with me. Our hands knock into each other as they move from face to back to ass to shoulders. Our mouths are not content with any sensible rhythm, and open and close against each other in atonal gasps, tongues lashing out and around, searching for and occasionally finding each other.

It's absolute chaos. Edward is backing me up to the staircase. We tango up the first four steps before my knees give out and I have to sit down. He kneels in front of me on the step below, pulling my shirt out of my jeans and pushing his hands underneath to feel my bare skin. Blood drums a deafening tattoo in my ears, drowning out the panting and the moans. I grab the front of his shirt and try to focus my trembling fingers on undoing the buttons there. Exasperated, Edward breaks away to yank his shirt over his head, and my hands find his smooth, bare chest. They run and skip over the surface as though it were a playground. He shakes as they travel lower, finding his navel.

"Up. Get up," he grunts. I try to stand, but my legs won't cooperate, so he picks me up under my arms, throws me over one shoulder, and carries me the rest of the way up the stairs. I wrap my legs around him as he stumbles dangerously toward the bedroom. We stop before we reach the door, Edward pushing my back up against the hallway wall, grinding his hips into mine.

"Go," I groan, trying to get him to finish the journey to the bed. There are still too many clothes between us, and we're wasting time out here.

We make it to the bedroom. One dim lamp on the nightstand is all the light we have to work with. I'm standing now, working desperately to shed what I'm wearing. Edward kicks off his shoes and tears at the button on his jeans, trying to slide them off of his body without undoing the zipper first. I fling my shirt, and my bra, and my pants and panties away from me as though they were grenades with the pins pulled. Edward looks up for a moment to watch me. "Jesus," he growls.

Finally, finally, we're on the bed, and we can feel each other without fabric borders. His hands grasp my breasts and he sucks in a breath as he kneads them and pushes his palms against my hard nipples. My hand travels down to grab his unbelievably anxious erection, stroking firmly, needing to feel it.

"Oh my God," we both breathe at the same time, and laugh and groan because this is so overwhelming it's impossible to approach it from anything close to a rational perspective. The feel of each other, so close, skin to skin – it's too much to take in.

"Bella," Edward whispers into my hair. "Oh, Bella, I wanted this to be – I didn't want to attack you like an animal. I wanted this to be slow, and sweet, to show you – I want to show you how I feel about you. I don't know how to do this with you," he says, sounding forlorn.

I kiss his face, his cheeks, his chin, his jaw. "Shhh," I say. "Let's just be. No more thinking. Let's just be."

We move more slowly now, enjoying every touch, every caress, without embarrassment or shame, hiding nothing from each other. He looks at me, at every inch of me, fingers exploring my calves, and my thighs, my hip, my breasts, lips following the fingers which followed the eyes, finding every freckle, kissing every blemish, tongue tasting me everywhere. His hand parts my legs and his fingers trace a painfully slow course around the slick, wet flesh they find there, making me moan his name.

"Beautiful," he says softly. "So beautiful."

I kiss whatever part of him I can reach, hands moving up and down his back, scratching lightly, feeling him arch against me when I do that. He asks me in a whisper if he should get a condom, and I tell him I'm on the pill. "I'm safe," he says. "Me too," I answer.

Edward rolls slowly on top of me, hooking his arms under my shoulders, holding my head between his palms. We're looking into each other's eyes as he eases himself into me, filling me, the missing piece. I'm complete now, I feel whole. Moving slowly, he lets out a soft groan against my cheek.

As our pace quickens, for the first time, I truly understand the conversation between Dottie and Dolores in She's Come Undone. "It's just friction," Dottie says about sex. Everything in my life up to this point has just been friction. With Edward, on me and inside of me, I understand the difference now, because this is not just friction. This is not just nerve endings. This is marrow deep, and true. Jake was a skillful lover, but an empty one. Edward is giving me every piece of himself, every part he has, and I'm giving myself back to him. I feel so stupid for believing that anything was even close to good now that I have the definition of the word in my arms, now that I'm moving against a true good, the right right.

"Bella," his voice is low and husky in my ear, and just the sound of my name on his lips sends me flying, falling, spiraling, spinning out into nothing. I clench around him, panting, hot breath escaping in fits as I whimper and shake against him. Don't move, I beg him silently. Let me stay here forever.

He's close behind me, twitching and spilling into me with a loud groan and a "ssshiiit" hissing through his teeth, and I hold him there, just there, with my legs wrapped around him and my feet pressing into his ass.

Edward shifts his weight slightly so that he's not in danger of crushing me. We're still joined together, arms wrapped tightly around each other, neither one of us willing to change that, wanting to hang on for one more moment to the unbelievable connection. We just lie there for a while, not moving or speaking, catching our breath, returning to earth.

He's combing my damp hair away from my face with one hand and kissing my forehead. "Are you okay?" he asks me.

I burst into hysterical laughter, because describing myself as "okay" at this moment seems completely comical to me. When I can speak, I answer, "Yes. I'm definitely the very most 'okay' I think I've ever been. Are you okay?" I tease.

He covers his eyes with one hand and smiles. "No. I'm not okay at all. I feel like someone just scooped my brain out and replaced it with oatmeal. Also, I'm afraid to move, because I can't feel my legs."

I run one hand lightly along the side of his thigh. "Hmmm…well, a cursory exam shows that they're still attached to the rest of you." My hand finds the back of his knee and I tickle him gently there. "Can you feel that?"

Edward pulls me on top of him. "Yeah, I can feel that." He settles my body over his groin. "Can you feel that?" He asks me with a wicked grin.

I bite my lip and smile back at him. "'Once more unto the breach, dear friends'?" I sling my leg over his body so that I'm straddling him, raising myself up to give him room to position himself. I slide back down until he's inside me again. He sighs and starts quoting Henry V as we begin to rock together.

"' And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.'"

I love Shakespeare. And even if I'm not going to say it right at this particular moment, I love Edward, too.

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