AN: Thanks everyone for being supportive while I was writing this. Thanks also to my sissy who is so the Emmett to my Bella.

BPOV

Emmett and I sat in the sun, watching Rosalie and Tanya warm up for their match. Though I was with one of my best friends, and I was incredibly lucky to be able to catch one of the greatest beach volleyball duos in action, all I wanted was to be back at the Water Cube, watching Edward stroke cleanly through the pool, annihilating his competition.

This had been planned from almost the moment I'd learned I was going to Beijing, and though I couldn't deny I was excited to see Rose and Tanya in action, all I'd thought of this morning as I got ready was of how I could get out of it so I could see Edward.

"You're distracted," Emmett told me, shading his eyes and looking at me intently.

"Yeah, I guess. Sorry. A lot on my mind." I prayed he wouldn't ask what it specifically was, but this was Emmett. I really didn't want to tell him that I was thinking about Edward and the incredible kiss we'd shared.

"About the story?" Emmett asked a little slyly. Damn it, he'd talked to Alice. Not that I'd really expected her to keep her trap closed.

"Uh. . .yeah. It's a lot of responsibility to make it right."

"Why do you care if it's right as long as you get your own byline and get pimped out to a bunch of other papers?"

Herein laid the problem. I was bound and determined to write an article that wouldn't only help me career-wise, but more than that, would finally show the world the Edward Cullen that I'd been privileged to know.

"It would be wrong to misrepresent him. That's what everyone else wants to do," I told Emmett more than a little self-righteously.

"Okay, but I have to say I still don't get it," Emmett said.

"It's about professional ethics," I snarked. "You wouldn't get that."

"Hey," he grumbled good naturedly, "I do too. What I'm really wondering is if your need to 'get it right,' has more to do with Edward Cullen the man than Edward Cullen the press enigma."

I pursed my lips and looked out toward the volleyball pit. "You didn't by any chance talk to Alice, did you?"

"Uh, no, of course not," Emmett said in a terribly fake innocent voice.

I sighed.

"Just tell me, Em."

"Oh look, the match is about to start," Emmett clapped excitedly then proceeded to cat call loudly into my ear.

"Your excitement could use a little. . .modification," I told him.

"What?" he asked with surprise. "I was being enthusiastic. You want to tell me that you don't act the same way around Cullen?"

"Well, no. Not exactly." It was both a lie and the truth. I was always thrilled to see him—maybe almost as thrilled as Em and Rose always were to see each other—and yet, his races made me break into a cold sweat of nerves and angry butterflies.

"You don't?" Emmett acted surprised and I supposed I wasn't doing a very good job of convincing him that I wasn't emotionally attached to Edward, because, who was I kidding, I definitely was.

"Uh, well, of course not. I'm always so nervous for him. Aren't you nervous about Rosalie?" I asked, pointing towards her lithe blonde form stretching on the sand.

"I was at first, I suppose. I never wanted her to lose because I didn't want her to be sad. But. . ." Emmett trailed, off sticking one hand into his track jacket and toying with something in it.

"But what?" I asked with a definite note of curiosity in my voice.

"Well, of course she lost sometimes. And yeah, she was sad, but it was more than sad. She was frustrated. Angry. It pushed her to go harder. So, no, of course I don't want to see her lose today, but if she did, I'd be there for her, and I'd be there to help her push herself harder." Emmett looked down a bit self-consciously, aware he'd probably said more than he'd intended, but I was touched by his fierce love for Rose. That was exactly what I wanted . . . someday.

"Emmett, that's so sweet," I told him and I threw one arm around his bulky upper body and pulled him close to me for a quick hug. His eyes met mine and I was totally floored by the tears I saw lingering there.

Quickly, he wiped his eyes and turned bright, bright red. "Sorry," he mumbled, "got a little carried away."

I grabbed his arm and forced him to meet my intent gaze. "Don't ever be sorry for how you feel about Rosalie."

"I'm not. I just you know. . .have a reputation to live up to," he joked.

"What? Being a total mean hard ass pumped full of testosterone?" I asked him, rolling my eyes. Anyone who spent more than five minutes with Emmett knew he belied his sport by being the biggest teddy bear in the world.

"Enough about me," Emmett insisted. "I want to talk about you and Cullen."

"Don't you want to watch the game?" I asked a bit desperately.

"Are you kidding? Beach volleyball?"

"But Rosalie's playing!" I exclaimed a bit louder than I needed to. I was more a little afraid of what Emmett, being the big protective older brother type, would say about Edward and I. Or what he would do to Edward. While Edward did certainly have his share of muscles, Emmett was a weightlifter. In the Olympics.

"Come on. You don't like beach volleyball either."

"No," I said self righteously, "but Rose is a good friend and she's your girlfriend."

"You must really not want to tell me about Cullen," Emmett told me jovially. "I wonder why not?"

"Because it's none of your business," I snapped. "None."

Emmett's face took on a slightly contemplative look, which worried me all by itself, to say nothing of its implications. Emmett thinking was pure fail.

"Clearly there's something going on if there's something for you to not tell me."

"Don't be ridiculous. Nothing is going on." There were no more Hail Marys left in me. Emmett was like a dog with a bone; he was never going to give up. Alice must have told him something. Damn it.

"You know it's going to be all over Olympic Village at this rate. Hell, it already is," Emmett said, way too nonchalantly.

"It's what?" I squeaked, my face draining of all blood, then rapidly refilling until I was beet red.

"All over. Everyone's talking about it. I just didn't know who the reporter was, though, until Alice told me you were hanging around Cullen."

"I am not hanging around Cullen," I spluttered.

"Sure seems like you are," Emmett told me, an obnoxious self-satisfied smirk on his face.

"I am shadowing him in a purely professional capacity," I told him haughtily. So what if us making out in a dark hallway in the Water Cube was clearly not professional? I was not going to tell Emmett about that particular occurrence, though I'd been reliving it almost nonstop since.

"Yeah, like you'd be real stubborn about not telling me you were doing a simple job. There's more to it than that, don't bullshit me. Besides, why are you doing the job of a big reporter, like someone from USA Today or the Times?"

"Edward wanted a more. . .personal. . .touch."

Emmett guffawed for longer than was entirely necessary, in my opinion. "Yeah, I bet he did. And are you giving it to him?"

I huffed, folding my arms across my chest. "You are being absurd."

"No, I'm being stubborn. Difference."

"I'm not going to tell you."

"You know you want to," Emmett told me in an imbecilic sing-song voice.

"You are like the Star Wars blind date from hell. It's nearly impossible to lose you."

"What?" Emmett said innocently. "That was a great set-up."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever."

"Fine. I'll tell you a secret, and you tell me about Cullen."

"Would you stop calling him that? His name is Edward."

"Stupid pussy name," I heard Emmett mutter.

"Better than Emmett," I challenged.

"At least you could call him Eddie or something."

"He only likes Edward."

"Which just says it all."

"STOP," I whacked him on the arm. "Now, tell me your secret."

"Promise me you'll drop the 411 on Cullen."

"Edward," I ground my teeth. "And yes, for god's sake."

"Okay." Emmett reached into the same pocket he'd been obsessively toying with since we arrived, and he pulled out a small black velvet box.

Popping it open, he rested it on his palm so I could see inside.

It was a shiny dark silver ring, probably platinum, set with a huge diamond solitaire that flashed in the Beijing sun.

"Oh my god," I breathed out. "That's absolutely stunning, Emmett. Rose is going to die."

"Well, I hope not," he laughed.

I shot him a teasing glare. "You know what I meant, silly."

"Yeah. You really think she'll like it?"

"Uh yeah. For sure."

"Do . . ." Emmett hesitated. . ."do you think she'll say yes?"

That ridiculousness almost caused me to roll my eyes for the umpteenth time so far this morning. "Are you kidding me? YES."

"Good," Emmett said with a smile, "I thought so."

I punched him in the arm. "You are insufferable."

"You know it, baby," he smirked. "Now tell me about Cullen."

"For the last time. . .it's Edward."

"Okay fine. Edward," Emmett exaggerated, imitating my tone of voice.

"We're. . ." I faltered, "we're. . .actually, I have no idea what we are." I frowned with the sudden doubt entering my mind.

"Bells," Emmett said a bit too kindly, his arm looping around my thin shoulders.

"No, seriously. He's an awesome guy. Handsome and charming and intelligent and amazing."

"Good, he better be nothing less. Cause you deserve the best."

"Enough with the protective older brother act," I told him firmly. "I'm fine. We're fine. And even if it ends after Beijing, I'll have memories to last a lifetime."

"Is that what you think is going to happen?"

And there was the question I'd been dreading. I'd been lucky Alice hadn't asked it—but I'd known it was only a matter of time before someone asked.

I was silent. Emmett waited for me to say something, clearly not accepting my non-answer as a real answer.

"I don't know," I finally said quietly. "I don't think he's like that, but I have no idea how it would work in the real world. This is like. . .the pretend world, you know?"

"I know," Emmett nodded. "I felt that way when I met Rosalie in Athens, four years ago. But don't give up just because you don't know. If you want him, you should really give it a shot."

"Oh believe me, I'm going to want him," I joked lamely. It was Edward Cullen. Who wouldn't?

"You think he's not going to want you?" Emmett asked in disbelief.

"Well, no, not exactly. But he's under a great deal of pressure and stress here, and he feels comfortable around me—like he can talk to me. When all this is gone, he may not feel the same way."

"He will," Emmett said a lot more confidently than I felt. "You shouldn't doubt him; he seems nice enough despite being named Edward."

"Emmett," I groaned. "It's just a name."

"And I suppose you happen to like it."

"Of course I do."

"Figures."

Rosalie chose that instant to glance over at us, and we smiled and waved and Emmett whistled, all to prove that we were indeed paying attention.

"Does she do that often?" I fake-whispered to Emmett.

"Too often," Emmett teased. "So tell me more. Has he kissed you yet?"

I blushed. "Uh . . .yes."

"Good. He needs to prove himself with that ridiculous name."

"Really. Are you serious?"

"Dead serious. If I had a pussy name like Edward, I'd be kissing girls left and right."

"And I'm sure Rose would love that," I deadpanned right back.

"Are you kidding? I could never have gotten Rose to date me with a name like Edward."

"You're being utterly ridiculous. Rosie would love you if your name was Ludwig."

"Probably," Emmett preened a little. "I'm awfully lovable."

"You," I told him pointedly, "are ridiculous. So when are you going to ask her?"

"After she wins her gold medal," Emmett beamed proudly.

I raised my eyebrows in doubt. "I know Rosalie and Tanya are awfully good but how do you know they're going to win a gold medal?"

"Gut feeling," Emmett said, tapping his nonexistent gut.

"Okay," I said noncommittally. "Do you have a backup plan?"

"Don't need one."

"Emmett," I started, but he held up a hand to stop me.

"I don't want to hear it. You're going to ruin my mojo."

"Has your gut told you anything about Edward's race this morning?" I asked.

"No, but you should check your phone. I bet Alice texted you the results."

For once, Emmett was right. With bated breath, I opened her text, and there it was. Edward had won his semifinal in the 200 free, and had easily qualified for the final. Thank goodness. I let out the breath I was holding.

"Good news?" Emmett asked, peeking over my shoulder.

"Yes," I beamed. "He won his semi-final."

"I don't know why you doubt. The man is gold in the water, plus he has you. He can't lose."

"I don't have anything to do with it," I scoffed, trying not to think that Alice had said something similar.

"You totally do. And don't doubt yourself, I just told you!" Emmett playfully lectured.

"Okay," I smiled back. "I'll try."

"No, you do. This is something fantastic, Bella, don't screw it up because you convince yourself you're not worthy."

"I won't," I promised, though the little tiny voice in the back of my mind was telling me that Emmett was wrong. How could I possibly measure up to someone as great as Edward?

"You are so far gone, you know," Emmett teased.

"I am not," I told him firmly. "I like him, but that is all."

"Sure you do. Come on, just admit it. You're crazy about the guy. Even though his name's Edward," Emmett added with a lopsided smile.

I shook my head resolutely and returned my attention to the volleyball match, even though Rose and Tanya were winning this one by a landslide.

Of course I wouldn't admit it to Emmett, but he was right. I was crazy about Edward.

I imagined him standing in front of me in his tight suit, cocky, charming smile on his face, and a glint of mischievousness in his incredible green eyes.

I went over to him and ran my hands up his chest, letting my fingers drift over each incredibly defined muscle, absorbing every inch of his body.

Reaching up, I tucked my hands behind his neck and brought his lips down to meet mine. We kissed, and the world spun a little, as he pulled me closer to him.

Finally, I broke our kiss and stepped back, letting my eyes roam his perfect body all over again. I could never get enough of him.

I finally let my hands go to the top part of his suit, stretching the top over his shoulders and rolling it slightly downwards, exposing more skin as I went. I licked my lips and imagined rolling it down more, until I got to his two tattoos, one on either hip. The Olympic rings and the M, which stood for his alma mater, Michigan. And mine. . .it also stood for mine. . .

"Bella!" Emmett screeched in my ear, jerking me out of my happy fantasy, right before I was about to brand him with my tongue.

"God, Emmett!" I nearly shouted back. "You scared the crap out of me!"

"Sorry, you were totally spacing. They won!" he told me excitedly, as he clapped way too hard, sending the noise reverberating into my ears.

"Oh they did?" I asked, a bit ashamed that I'd missed it, so absorbed I'd been in my vision of Edward.

"Oh yeah. Total wipeout."

I glanced at the scoreboard. "Wow, yeah, no kidding," I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.

All I could think was that I was profoundly glad it was over because that meant I could go back to the Village and maybe conspire a way to see Edward. I'd become an addict, needing to see him as much as I could before, in my mind, this all came crashing to a halt.

"You ready to go back to the Village?" Emmett asked slyly.

"Oh yeah, definitely," I said with none of my excitement faked.

"Oh, I bet you are. I just bet you are," Emmett teased.