"Am I not destroying my enemies when I make friends of them?" ~ Abraham Lincoln

I'm not sure how to explain it. How I can convince her that I am my own person?

I'm not really sure that I am.

I slept outside her house last night just waiting to talk to her, and then when I have the chance, I don't know what to say.

I could tell she was uncomfortable when she let me in her home, but I think that she almost trusts me.

And I like that, because as crazy as it may be, I think I almost trust her too.

Here she has feed me twice. She let me bathe in her house and she didn't ride my ass or call me looney for sleeping in my car. She just accepts and gives as if we've always been friends. I don't deserve it and I sure in the hell don't think me driving her ass back and forth to traffic school is going to be enough of a payback.

I need to think of something more, but my mind keeps drawing a blank.

... *lg* …

Her Volvo is a little speed demon, it's no wonder she's received a few tickets from behind the wheel.

Truthfully, her being a rebel is kind of hot, as if I need another reason to be attracted to her.

We walk out of class quiet and casual. Neither of us having said much since lunch and after I tried to apologize about the whole Ben thing.

But I did forget to mention the food. "Thanks for the sandwiches, Bella. You know you're spoiling me, right?" I give her my best smile and my puppy dog eyes.

She looks over at me, the sun blinding her, making her squint so she probably can't even see my face. "Please Edward, it's no problem. Anyway, I bet you have chicks spoiling you all the time."

Immediately I feel defeated. Hearing her say that hurts a little, it isn't the first time she's commented on my reputation—that for the most part—has been fueled by gossip more than reality.

"No, Bella. I don't... It's not like you think." I state.

She huffs and keeps on walking towards her car.

"I'm serious." I say with more aggravation than I mean to.

"How is it then Edward? Because from what I've heard, you've had your share of girls from Northwestern, even branching out to females at many of the surrounding colleges in greater Seattle." Her door is closed and her arms are propped over the roof of the car. She's watching me close, studying my face, gauging my reaction.

So I tell her the truth. "It's not like that. Have I screwed around? Yeah. Have I had sex with half of the people it's rumored that I've had sex with? Hell no. Not even a fourth, I swear. I've fooled around a bit, but not like you've heard. But listen, that's just not my thing. Emmett likes to feed that gossip mill and make my life sound like this nonstop party. It makes his social life more interesting or some bullshit."

She looks away and runs her fingers through her hair.

Knowing that she probably still thinks of me as that type of guy stings in ways I'd rather not admit to. "You believe me don't you?"

Her eyes finally meet mine and she gives me this sad smile and nods. "Can I ask you something though?" she adds.

I unlock the doors with the remote. "Of course," I answer as we get in and I start up her car.

"Does it really matter to you what I think about you and your reputation?" She's looking at me with that look again, the one that's like she can see into the depths of me—into those hidden places she isn't supposed to see.

It unnerves me and excites me at the same time, because I think—just maybe—I want her to see. "Yeah, it does matter. It matters more than you know." I say with all seriousness.

I pause as she thinks over what I just said.

Then she looks away again and the spell is broken between us.

Finally, I can relax.

... *lg* …

"What are you and your friends going to do tonight?" I ask while we stand in her driveway and I fill my tank with gas that we stopped and put in a jug on the way home.

She's leaned back and propped against my car looking at the ends of her hair, "Nothing. I think Ang may come over, hang out, but we're not going anywhere. What about you?"

I shrug and answer, "I don't know." The truth is, I don't think I want to go out tonight. I feel like going home and crawling in the bed and sleeping for days.

I screw the gas cap on and go to start my car to see if it runs alright.

It does.

"So, I'll see you in the morning?" She asks as she begins to back away toward her house.

I stand up in the expansion of my open door, "Of course." I rack my brain for something more to say to her, but what else is there?

She slowly walks backward away from me and my car. She throws her hand up with a small wave. She mouths 'bye' and gives me a closed mouth smile.

I reciprocate and answer, "See ya'," and force myself to sit down and close my door.

I wish I had more to say to her to prolong our time together—yet as much as I want to, there really is no need to do so, only some undefinable want deep inside of me.

... *lg* …

"You'll never guess what happened today?"

"Hmmmm?" I hum as Ang massages the black dye into the roots of my hair. I love the way it feels, even with those plastic gloves she's wearing. I encourage her to look it over good, I hate having my roots lighter than my ends.

"Today Edward Cullen called Ben." She says in an hushed tone.

I almost slide off the closed lid of the toilet seat straight onto the floor. I right myself and try to act normal. "Say what?"

"Yes! Before I came over here, Ben cell phone rang and it was Edward. Supposedly, he was apologizing to Ben about...well, you know. They were still talking when I left to come over here, then Ben called me and said that Edward seemed sincere and everything. I think it made Ben feel good." Her eyes start to tear and she looks away from me.

I get this funny swirling in my stomach that I try really hard to ignore. "So, what do you think about that?" I ask because of course Ang still doesn't know that I've been on Edward's friendly side for the past few days, same as the rest of our friends, so it makes me curious as to what she will say.

"I'm done," she announces as she slips off her gloves. "Here, paint my toes while we wait." She props her foot on the side of the toilet and holds out her arms to balance herself.

I open the black polish and start to brush over her toenails.

"You know how it is, Bella. You never really know a person, I guess. I mean, look at us. Most people think we live like the sequel to The Craft, levitating and calling the corners of the earth and shit. And why? Because we appear dark and scary, oooooh, and we wear black fingernail polish and shirts with skulls." She rolls her eyes and snorts at herself.

"And then we casually flip people off if we don't like the way the look at us. We pretend to not give a crap about what people think of us, but really, we all know better than that. It's easy to pass judgment on others just by who their friends are and what we think we know about them. I believe most of the time, we're wrong. But it is what it is."

I think I must have zoned out a little as she was talking because her toenails look awful, I mean really bad, but I don't say anything as she switches her feet.

I do get what she's saying, she's right and it makes me feel guilty.

"Ben says he believes Edward and that he never blamed him for any of it, but Ben isn't ready to hang out with Edward or anything. I think he'll always have that fear that he's being pranked or set up or something. He doesn't trust him completely and I don't blame Ben either."

Ang picks up the timer at the same time that I finish up with her left foot.

"Five more minutes." She picks at one of the strands of my hair, looking it over and checking the color.

I have to ask her, I have to know. "Did Edward say why all of a sudden he felt the need to apologize to Ben?"

She laughs, "Ah, something about someone pulling the wool away from his eyes? Hell, I don't know. He told Ben he'd never realized how things really are at Northwestern and now he feels bad. He even suggested Ben come and try out for the kicker position on the football team again."

Hearing that makes me smile and it my heart skip a beat. I think I've been too harsh on my perception of Edward, maybe he's a halfway decent guy, or maybe even more.

"That'll never happen though. As bad as Ben would love to play, he'll never be on the same team as Emmett McCarty. Oh... it's time! Get your towel and stick your head under here." Ang jumps back and turns the water on. She makes a space for me at the tub and I get on my knees. She's still talking about Ben and soccer and football, but my thoughts are elsewhere.

My thoughts are on someone else and how I should approach said person. How I should tell him that he did the right thing and I'm kind of proud of him.

And that it might be worth the effort after all to be his friend again.

... *lg* …

I stare at my ceiling for hours. I thought I'd be able to sleep, but it never comes.

It's seven thirty.

The house is quiet and lonely.

I go down to basement and turn the stereo wide open. I lift and train and exercise until I think I might fall over from exhaustion.

The whole time I'm repeating my conversations from the past few days in my mind.

Bella.

Emmett.

Ben.

I can't get the voices to hush. The reminders fuel my energy. The hate and disgust push me to work out until I'm dry heaving into the bushes outside the back door. I'm covered in sweat and shame and remorse.

Then I think about her, about Bella. I think about how she acted toward me that first day at traffic school, she had every right to hate me then, even hate me now. But I don't think she does, or at least I hope I've showed her different.

It's nine o'clock. I take off in a jog, I feel the need to run a mile or two, even after my stomach twists and protests with hunger.

I stay on the sidewalk, under the lights of the street lamps, around the neighborhood I'm familiar with.

When I return to the house, the muscles in my legs are aching and feel like rubber. My heart is pounding and I can barely catch my breath. My eyes burn from the sweat that's been dripping down my face.

I go into the bathroom and strip off my clothes. I turn on the hot water and go into my bedroom to grab something to put on afterwards.

I carry a towel over to the shower, I stick my fingers under the water to see if it's hot enough.

It's ice cold.

Then the pressure drops and the water streams dies out. Almost instantly, the tap begins to groan as nothing but air soon leaks from the faucet.

"You've got to be kidding me!" I stare down at the spigot, waiting for the water to start up again.

It never does.

I wrap my towel around my waist and run down the steps to the garage.

I open the back door and sure as shit there's a lock and a note on the meter outside.

I rip off the note, "Mother fucker!"

I storm back inside, slamming doors and fighting the urge to punch holes in the walls of this hellhole.

I run upstairs and kick my bedroom door open.

What in the hell am I going to do now?

I try to phone my dad, of course my call goes to voice mail. I leave him a less than pleasant message.

I stand and look around, I still need a fucking shower.

I put my clothes back on, seething and disgusted that I smell like a damn hobo.

I throw more clothes and essentials into a bag.

I glance at the clock, it's almost midnight.

I curse under my breath as I leave the house, knowing there's only one place I feel comfortable enough to go.

One place I won't be judged.

... *lg* …

I lie awake thinking about what Ang said.

I know people have the wrong impression of me. I'm not some dark person who plots to blow up my school or shoot all my classmates. I don't cut on myself or draw emo faces wet with tears all over my papers. I don't pray to Marilyn Manson or drink goat's blood.

I'm just a girl trying to get by. I dye my hair, paint my nails black, and keep to myself. I love to read and dance. I even like sports. I adore all my friends. I want to make good grades and please my parents, and as hard as it is, I try to ignore all the imbeciles that I'm surrounded by that don't really know me at all... or even care to. The people who judge me, just as I judge them.

What if it's the same way for Edward? Or for Tanya? Or, oh my lord, what about Rosalie? What if she really is a nice girl and I've got it wrong about her?

Wait. No. Never mind. That's not possible.

But Edward? Maybe it's that way with him. Maybe he's not the person that everyone perceives him to be.

I sit up startled when I hear a car door slam outside.

It's midnight, so I'm thinking it's probably at the house across the street.

But when I get to my window, I see his car.

I see him pacing around my yard in the moonlight.

I should be pissed or concerned or aggravated that Edward is here... at my house... at midnight... unannounced... but I'm not.

I'm pleased and ...excited.

No, I haven't replied to reviews and for that I truly am sorry. I hate myself for it, but I only have these small windows into ficland, and I try to spend those writing, hence not leaving me time to do other stuff, including READING!

Knockin' Boots is my newewst fic, it's posted and complete, it was my FAGE contribution.

Ttharman made me ones of those private facebook groups for my ffic stuff like all the cool authors have, whoop whoop! You have to request to join and be added. It's called Mrs Robward's Fanficiton Closet, there should be a link on my profile. Come and join us. Let's talk about what you think is going to happen in the next chapter... *wink*