Fuck that shit… that bedroom was too far away from Bella. Not to mention that it made me feel fucking weird, sleeping in a bed that I knew her father used. I had some completely unfounded fear that if I slept in the same bed he had slept in, somehow he would be able to tell that I wanted to fuck his daughter fifty different ways from Sunday… and I didn't need an angry dad coming after me before I got a chance to know her. I grabbed my jeans, wallet, cell, and shoes, and crept down the stairs to the living room. I deposited all my shit on the floor next to the couch and collapsed.

I'd woken up to the sound of Bella's panicked voice. I reached over and felt around for my cell on the floor and held it up, squinting to see the time. Fuck, it was just after four a.m. – and I had about fifteen missed text messages. I checked them all fast – all Alice, all about my being at Bella's all night. Sorry, short stuff, you don't need any of the details. I shoved the phone into the waistband of my boxers and stood, stretching. Bella had left her room, because I could hear the coffee pot in the kitchen. Was she fucking serious? She needed to go back to bed. Preferably with me. Yeah, I was gonna make that shit happen, and now.

I went into the kitchen and scared the piss out of her. Apparently she'd forgotten that I stayed over, because the look on her face – oh, it was priceless. Then she was smiling at me for whatever godforsaken reason she had, and when I suggested that we go back to bed – together – her eyes got wide as saucers, but she didn't argue much. She sort of hesitated after I laid down in her bed, but whatever reason made her hesitate obviously didn't matter, since she laid down next to me. When her breathing steadied (which happened pretty fucking quickly – my girl was exhausted), I took the opportunity to move closer to her. I didn't touch her, because I was afraid she might wake up. I wasn't sure if she was a light sleeper or not, but I was gonna find that shit out right the hell now.

It's the small things, right?

I sniffed her hair. Okay, it's kind of creepy, but I have a thing with her hair. Long, silky, beautiful… yeah, I know I sound like a fucking woman. I don't care. Her hair smelled amazing – like fruit, or flowers, or – I don't know what it smelled like, but I knew I liked it, and that's all that mattered to me. It was splayed out over her pillow, spilling down onto the bed between us. I couldn't help myself – I played with the ends of it. The feeling of it sifting between my fingers was incredible.

After a few minutes of that, I decided that I'd probably better get some more sleep, too, since I'd been keeping basically the same hours as Bella had. I pulled my phone out of my boxers and put it on the nightstand, then laid on my back and drifted off.

I woke up when I felt a warm body snuggling up to mine. I opened my eyes and watched sleepily as Bella began to grind herself against me. My morning erection suddenly had a purpose, and if she didn't stop rubbing against me, the decision was going to be taken out of both of our hands. i had a moment of reprieve when my phone chimed softly, indicating a text message. I had to be careful how I moved to reach the phone, since even though it was torture to feel Bella's warm body against mine, I didn't want it to end anytime soon. I saw that Alice wanted me to keep Bella away from the café for as long as humanly possible. I fought the urge to cuss out loud at her – she knew my girl was stubborn. I dropped the phone back onto the nightstand and lifted my left arm, and almost as if on cue, Bella snuggled in closer.

My self-control was being sorely tested with every small noise she made, and every slight movement against me. Her breasts were pressed against my side, and she had managed to capture my left leg between both of hers. I was dying, but fuck if it didn't feel amazing. I knew I'd reached my limit when she pushed her face against me and inhaled deeply, though – I could feel her nose and mouth against my skin.

Of course, as soon as I'd spoken, I'd woken her up. She was very surprised (again) to see me there and had tried to get away, but I'd wrapped my arms around her to keep her there. I couldn't help but notice that she fit perfectly, almost like she'd only been made to be inside my arms.

Fuck, maybe I should check to see if I had any damn balls left, because that was the least guy-like thought I'd ever had.

Jesus, she might love it, but it was obvious to me that her long hours at the café were slowly killing her. The bags under her eyes had bags under them.

Fuck, what the hell was I even doing anymore? I knew that talk about her feelings made her run. When shit got too serious, she ran. When I got too close to her, she ran. So why had she let me touch her hair, and the too soft skin of her face?

Ah, there it is. Rolling her eyes at me puts the world right back on its axis where it belongs – wherein I am a smartass and she pretends to hate it.

And there's evidence of the pretending – even though I made a very jackassed comment about being in bed with me, and even though she smacked me (that shit hurt), she didn't get up. Why didn't I just keep my mouth shut, instead of pointing it out?

She turned the tables on me! That's right, baby; I will gladly beg you any day of the week, if it means you'll touch me.

I pulled her closer to me, and eventually she relaxed enough that her breathing started to even out. I felt like a dick, but I had to know, so I asked her about those three pictures. I was right, the douchebag in the third photo was an ex – and not just any ex, but her most recent – the one who cheated on her.

She doesn't think that anybody wants her? I know I've already asked her, but what the fuck kind of assholes has she gone out with? I'm lying next to her and I want her so fucking badly that I can barely breathe because of it, and she thinks that no one wants her? I press my face into her hair and kiss the top of her head. It'll do for now, but I've got to change that way of thinking, and soon.

At least she agrees that he was an asshole. I had to laugh when she told me that she was only keeping his picture in the frame to display the frame – and then an idea hit me. Why not put a photo of she and I in that fucking frame?

My own brilliance surprises me sometimes. My phone takes pretty good pictures, and it was handy, so I just snapped a ton with it. I actually enjoyed her protesting, because she burrowed down further against my skin, with her face pressed down against my shoulder.

Why does she sound upset? What the fuck did I do now? I was confused, and she didn't show any signs of wanting to turn around and smile with me… so I did the next best thing and tickled the hell out of her. It made me happier than I can say that she was so ticklish – I probably enjoyed the tickling way more than she did. She was moving against me; her bare legs touched mine and I had a justifiable excuse to have my hands touching her. Shit got serious when I straddled her to hold her down and tickle her, because then I was afraid she might feel how hard I'd gotten, and the easy touching would come to an end.

I don't even know how I managed to take pictures of her before I straddled her. After I moved, I dropped the phone on the bed near her head and concentrated fully on tickling her. And then, like magic, it was overwhelming. I was in way over my head… sitting in bed with her beneath me, noticing the way her eyes twinkled and her nose wrinkled up when she laughed, the feel of her heat beneath me. I was going to prove to her right the fuck now, for once and for all, just how fucking much I wanted her. I was going to kiss the hell out of her right inside her own bedroom, in her own bed, and then I was going to tell her that I was crazy about her.

And I was going to do it, too, until my cockblocking baby sister sent me another fucking text message, and killed the moment.

Of course, after I relayed her fucking message (talk about buzzkill, Alice, really), my girl got upset. I had to basically blackmail her into having breakfast with me. I looked at some of the pictures I'd just taken, totally absorbing every line and curve of Bella's face. When I heard her slam a drawer, I glanced up just long enough to see her yank her shorts down and pull on a pair of jeans. I turned my eyes back to my phone quickly so she wouldn't catch me, and I had to bite down on the inside of my cheek when I saw her throw a shirt on over her wife beater. Fuck me running backwards – not only had I seen her underwear (a scrap of baby blue, oh holy hell), but now I was going to know all day long that she wasn't wearing a bra.

Seriously, you girls have no fucking idea what it does to a guy to know that kind of information. I was going to be walking around with a semi hard-on all day.

And Jesus, did she have to brush her hair so violently? I offered to do it for her (because I have come to the grips with the idea that I do not, in fact, have any balls left, and will therefore do anything to touch this woman), but she didn't hear me. I wasn't going to repeat the offer, just in case she would think it was creepy.

She mentioned the game tomorrow, and fuck if don't want to watch it with her and root for our team, but she hasn't offered, and I don't want to ask.

Does she think I'm a lazy asshole just because I'm not working? It kind of feels like she does.

And damn, my girl is passionate. Just for that, I may have to start buying things from small businesses… even if it means that I might never step foot into another IHOP.

Then I can't figure out these looks she keeps giving me. One minute, she looks sad, the next, she looks like she might want to devour me, and then she smiles. Hot and cold, off and on – and I can't figure it out.

I'm not quite comfortable discussing my family with her, but I do it anyway.

When she invites me over for the game and some home-cooked food, I embarrass myself with how quickly I accept. It's weird between us for a few minutes because I kind of get the impression that telling her about my family has made her feel sorry for me, but it doesn't matter enough for me to reject her invitation.

I love that she puts up a fight when I pay for her food – every other girl I've ever been out with, including Tanya, has insisted that I pay for everything we do together on outings. Most of the time it didn't really bother me, especially if it was a first date, but when the girl comes to expect it, and then worse doesn't even appreciate it… well. I have a problem with that.

After leaving her at the café, I went in search of a mom-and-pop type photo developing place. It took an hour to find one, but goddamn it, I found it – and then I dropped some serious cash in there. I bought triple prints of every single photo of the two of us – even the ones where my girl's head was turned. I kept one set, put one set in an envelope to send off to my parents (after that talk with my dad, he deserved to see them), and put one set in an envelope for Bella. Then, because I am a total fool for this girl and I want an excuse to take more pictures of her, I bought a digital camera. A very overpriced digital camera that I could've gotten at Wal Mart for probably $100 less, but still – like she said, it was the principal of the thing.

I went back to the hotel and threw some stuff into my duffel bag – my Steelers jersey, my lucky yellow socks that I wore every game day, shower stuff, my pajama pants, and a change of clothes.

Then I went and bought a couple of cases of her favorite beer – which also just happened to be my favorite brand, too. I was probably going to go to hell for it, but I used the key I'd made and let myself into her house. I told myself that it was just so I could put the beer away, but I knew better. I went upstairs, and even though I had absolutely no intentions of sleeping up there, I dropped off my bag.

I opened the envelope and stared at the photos of the two of us, and goddamn if my heart didn't flutter like crazy. I pulled my favorite photo from the bunch and put it inside her photo frame, relishing that I was replacing that asshole ex-boyfriend of hers. He'd better hope that I never ran into him, or else I was going to kill the fucker. It hadn't escaped me that the situation with him was probably playing a part in her skittishness when it came to closeness to me. But still… I didn't know if she'd want to keep the picture or not, so I shoved it down in my back pocket, not caring whether or not I wrinkled it. I'd ask her about it later.

Or not.

Stupid fucking douche-whore.

I really needed to get out of her house and stop obsessing over this asshole. It killed me to think of how he'd probably touched my girl – had he ever made her laugh? I doubted it. I didn't really want to think about it, if I could avoid it. I would have to comfort myself with the thought that it would be me making her laugh and smile from now on, not him.

I didn't know what else to do with myself to kill the time until she closed the café. After the morning's events, I was afraid to be around her for a while, because I couldn't not remember how soft her skin was, or how it had felt to hold her. I already wanted to do it again.

I wandered aimlessly through the streets, pausing occasionally to look into store windows – though most of the time, my mind wasn't on whatever I was looking at. I did walk past the building that Emmett and Jasper had purchased, and I wondered if maybe I should start looking at places to stay. I fucking loathed the hotel, but at the same time, I hadn't thought I was going to be staying around here long.

Meeting Bella had changed that, and that thought was scary by itself. Of course, if things didn't work out between us and I was renting an apartment, I was only bound here as long as the lease required me to be.

I made my way back to the café after it was already dark, though Bella must have either been on break or in the bathroom, because Leah was manning the counter. I wasn't too keen on having a drink that Bella hadn't made herself, and I had a wicked craving for the milkshake she'd made – so I bought a bottled soda and went into the back room, where a live band was performing. They were decent – nothing special, but okay enough that I stayed and listened to both sets and their encore.

The café was still open for another hour, but I didn't want to stay and not see Bella, so I slipped out the back door. I walked around the block a few times, taking my time and walking slowly. Killing time was hard, especially without my iPod to listen to, or any of my books. Too late, I realized it probably would've been a good idea to check out the bookstore that Bella loved so much. When the café was closed, I went back and found that Bella had locked the doors already. Good girl. I used Alice's key and unlocked the back door.

As soon as I opened the door, I heard her music. It was another one of my favorites, though it was melancholy as all fuck. I wondered if she was in a bad mood tonight. When I went into the front room, I found her sitting behind the counter, her head in her hands. She was shaking, too. What the fuck? I was going to fuck somebody up if they'd fucked with my girl.

She didn't want to tell me what was wrong, so I lied and told her that Alice had yelled at me for letting her come back – maybe if she focused on me, she wouldn't be so upset over whatever had happened to her. I told her I was taking her out to eat (I hadn't lied when I'd said that Alice had told me that my girl hadn't eaten), and then I showed her the pictures. I was anxious to see her reaction to them. When she saw my favorite photo, she pulled it out and said she was keeping it. My breath caught in my throat when she started tracing my face with her fingertip. Jesus, this woman had no idea how much power she had over me.

When she'd said she wanted to get home, I thought it had meant that she didn't want to see me, or be seen out with me. It must've shown on my face, because she backpedaled really fucking fast. I went outside to wait, and called in the pizza to the number Alice had given me. Alice had seen the papers under the counter in the café- a bunch of take-out menus from what must have been Bella's favorite eateries. She said that there was a menu from that Italian place we'd been to on Wednesday, too. I took a chance and ordered my favorite pizza, thinking that if she hated it, I could always run out and get something else.

I watched her put my favorite photo on the fridge, and I swear to god, my heart felt like it was too big for my chest. When she demanded all of the photos, I laughed. I followed her to her bedroom because I wanted to see her. I hadn't seen her nearly all day, and I wanted to look at her face – to see her smile, to see her roll her eyes at me – anything.

She went to take a shower, and the pizza came just before she got out. I went to the fridge and pulled out a 6-pack of the beer that I'd brought earlier, and took everything to the living room. I'd only eaten about half a slice when she emerged from the bathroom, smelling amazing, and looking even better. I was going to have serious self-control issues tonight, I could already tell.

I watched as she devoured her pizza. I watched her throat as she swallowed her beer. And then I watched as she noticed that I'd changed the photo. Her eyes got big, and I sighed. I told her I still had the photo, just in case she wanted it. I was afraid that she was going to keep it.

She didn't want it.

Fuck you, Mike!

Then she told me that he still has the balls to come into her café? Her fucking livelihood, and the bastard won't leave her alone? Maybe I'll keep that photo and memorize what he looks like, because the next time I see this fucker, he's a dead man.

And just like that, the anger is replaced with laughter – though on my end, it's got a good, healthy dose of jealousy thrown in for added measure. He's an asshole, and he got to be with her. He slept with her, he kissed her, he took her places.

Fuck, she called me out on my football team. Fucking Alice! Keep your goddamned mouth shut!

Whoa… being mad at my sister flew out of my head when she started talking about fucking before and after the game. I will never forget this conversation on the off chance that she and I ever begin seeing each other – I will remind her of this. In the meantime, I'm going to beat off to this until it hurts.

Then she tells me to stay the night again, swipes my keys, and goes to the bathroom. Too tired to put up much of a fight (and hell, I fucking wanted to stay, anyway), I crawl into her bed and close my eyes. I hear her walking around, doing something, and then I hear her pad into the bedroom. She sighed, and then she climbed into bed next to me. I managed to stay awake until her breathing evened out, and then I moved closer and draped an arm over her before falling asleep, too.