A/N- Can I just say that the reviews for this last chapter blew us away?!?! Seriously you all are amazing. So now for some answers.....

Hannah is a necessary evil. If things were all easy and peachy from the get go what fun would that be? BUT we do agree that she is horrid and know that we both loathe her. So that should tell you something....

As for the appearance of any other twilight characters....there will be a few more cullen siblings to appear but as to why and where, lips sealed. We have to keep you reading somehow.

Lastly there was a little confusion on the timing of this all and hopefully Edward will clear that up right at the beginning of this one :)

So keep rocking the reviews and we'll keep sending more your way. Even trade yes? As always off-the-deep-end keeps our terrible grammar in check, our hero! Now on to the good stuff!!

***

I'm not sure what was going through my head. But I couldn't sleep. So when I heard Hannah's breathing get heavy, I rolled out of bed and went into the storage room. And I sat down with my guitar and The Smiths on vinyl and stared at the stupid ring. And all I could think about was the fact that Bella had my ring today. And she had it yesterday. If I looked closely enough maybe I could find her fingerprint on it.

And thinking about her fingerprint made me think about her hand. And I wanted to hold it so badly. I wanted to hear her call me a Pencil Neck and I wanted to hear her laugh and I realized she was the only person that could salvage this horrible day. Not the record player, not the guitar that I don't play… nothing. Just her.

So I went.

I didn't even consider the fact that she might not be home. It didn't even cross my mind. I did consider, for all of twenty seconds, that she might be entertaining Doctor Dick. But then I just hoped I'd interrupt it.

"All done," I tell her when I've finished putting away the last of the groceries.

She didn't even realize I was sitting with Emmett when she walked in. She just barreled through the door with a million bags in her arms and walked straight into the kitchen.

"Congratulations. You've filled your community service for the day," she says.

I feel the slow smile and lean on the bar next to the sink across from her. "Do you want me to make you some tea or something?" I ask because she looks… tired? Uncomfortable? I hope I'm not making her uncomfortable by being here.

She shakes her head at me. "I'm sorry, this is all a little surreal," she says and I feel my heart drop. She doesn't want me here. "I mean, I come home and you're here, which is fine—you can come any time you want, but now you're putting things away and trying to make me tea. Are you okay?"

No. Not really… not at all actually. But I'd be lying if I said that it didn't just feel so good, so relieving that she asked. That by asking, she's already improved my mood.

I slip my hand into my pocket and she sighs. "I just… I had a rough day," I finally say quietly.

She nods once. "The kind you want to talk about or the kind you came here to forget?"

"Neither," I say slowly, shaking my head. "Just the kind that I wanted to make better."

She just stares at me and I know she understands. Even more so, I know she won't press me for details. I'm not ready to give details.

"You came by the office today," I blurt out, wanting to change the subject, wanting to hear what she thought of it. Although, I'm sure I already know her opinion.

"Mmmm, I did. I entered the realm of pencil necks and lived to tell."

I shake my head and chuckle. "I'm sorry I missed that. Violet liked you."

Violet gave me a huge talk about not letting a good opportunity pass me by, but I'm not about to mention that.

"I liked her," she says and then her smile turns into something that looks like disgust. "I wish I could say as much for that horrid woman you work with, the one with the push-up bra? She was awful."

I narrow my eyes. "Did she say something to you?" I ask and press my thumb into the diamond. I don't know how I can ever plan to give this ring to anyone after the damage I've inflicted on it and myself, especially Hannah. Maybe I'm just fucked up. Maybe I never intended to give it in the first place.

She laughs and a little more of the events of today roll off of me. "Nothing that couldn't be brushed off. She may be awful, but I sure as hell wasn't scared of her. I mean, she's an overgrown blow up doll."

And then I laugh. And laugh. And laugh. Because how true is that? And my little Bella stood up to her and I can't. I laugh until I can't breathe anymore. My Bella? What the fuck is wrong with me?

"I was thinking um… maybe we could watch a movie?" I ask.

"I think I can handle that, but you'll have to settle for my bed rather than the couch. Emmett doesn't move after 6 o'clock."

Her bed. Could I settle for her bed? Is that supposed to be rhetorical?

"Yeah," I shrug and attempt nonchalance. "That's fine."

I follow her into her room and stop in the doorway. It's all her. The walls are painted a creamy, buttery yellow. I'm actually surprised that all four are the same color. That's the only thing in here that's got any semblance of uniformity. Nothing matches. There are random pieces of furniture, a variety of colorful rugs, and the quilt… the quilt on her bed is huge and just… crazy.

There are pictures everywhere. And there are books all over the floor and CDs piled up on her desk next to a humming laptop.

She turns around and stares at me and I just smile and shake my head. I like it. I like the lack of stupid, useless throw pillows. I like the mess. I like that it feels lived in. It feels like what home used to feel like.

"Well," I say finally and take another step in, "it certainly has character."

"That's a nice way of saying that it doesn't match and, therefore, is the stray dog that will never see the inside of a Williams Sonoma catalogue."

I shake my head and laugh. And then I walk over and sit down on her bed. Comfortable. For once.

***

I'm trying to act like having Edward in my room is the most natural thing ever, but the truth is it's not. I don't let anyone into my room, ever. It's like this completely unspoken rule that Emmett never enters and anytime I have ended up back here with a date, well the couch has been christened several times.

But this is my room, my sanctuary, a place where I make no excuses and no apologies. I never make my bed, never put away a book and I don't ever plan on turning my computer off. It's just the way it is. And now everything is turned upside down and sideways by a man sitting on my bed, not seeming to mind that last night's pajamas are strewn across the floor or that my retainer is sitting on the nightstand.

"I know my computer isn't exactly Emmett's flat screen, but it does the job," I explain. He nods his answer as I began moving around the room gathering supplies. I toss a blanket from my chair onto his lap and throw my case of DVDs on the end of the bed. He can pick. I begin to rummage through my drawers when I notice that he hasn't moved. And here I thought I was giving him all these silent commands.

Blanket= get comfortable

DVDs= pick a movie

"I, um, am going to change quickly, but pick something, I really don't care what," I tell him. His eyes don't deter from my face and I can feel the heat rising from the base of my cheeks. I lick my lips quickly and dart from the room. I need to cool down and fast.

I slide into the bathroom and slip the day's work and clothes off before pulling on a huge pair of sweat and a ratty t-shirt. Once I have them on I wonder if I should be caring that he is about to see me at my absolute most unappealing. The butterflies try to resurrect themselves in my belly, but I kick them out again.

It's better this way. What kind of trouble can I get myself into wearing this? Satisfied that my outfit will serve as the anti mood, I make my way back to my room. I slip back into the room to find Edward sprawled across the bed on his stomach, his head resting on his arms, with his eyes closed. I swear if he fell asleep on me….

"As long as we don't watch Titanic, you can choose," he mutters, his eyes still closed. His words make me freeze. I scowl at him even though I know he can't see me. Can't a girl just enjoy a good love story on a sinking ship?

"No, don't pass your job off on me. You wanted to watch a movie. You pick," I insist. I fight the urge to cross my arms and pout. It's late I can revert to being a child. I toss my clothes in the general direction of my closet floor and glance over at him on the bed. He's propped himself up on his elbows and in now diligently looking through the movies. A real insight into a person, what movies they own.

None of those bullshit movies you name to look good in front of people when they ask what your favorites are. The real ones and I have no problem admitting I own Peter Pan and Mean Girls.

I bite the inside of my cheek and lean against my dresser. His eyes brighten as he pulls a disc from the book. He holds it out to me.

"Wedding Crashers."

I raise an eyebrow. Interesting. I reach over to my laptop and insert the disc. I wait for a bit for the humming to indicate that it's playing and then I pull it from my desk and into my arms. I shift my weight from foot to foot as I size up my bed. I have no idea what is the best, platonic way to approach this. Edward is sprawled over most of the right side so I guess I'll go left, or I could pull up a chair…

"Are you gonna come sit with me?" he asks. He scoots over slightly making a little more room for me. I guess that answers that. I climb into my bed and can't help the instant tension relief that occurs. I melt into the mattress and in turn into Edward's side. I can't help it if my mattress is old and not used to two people. The couch would have known what to do with us.

"I don't know where to put this," I tell him. I glance over at him and he smirks back at me taking the computer from my hands and placing it at our feet. So much for using it as a barrier between us.

"You act like you've never watched a movie in bed before," he teases softly. The movie has begun to play and the blue of the screen is dancing off his face. I roll my eyes and scoff.

"I've watched a ton of movies in bed, I've just never had company before," I reply. That might have led him to think too many things that are true, but I avoid his face and keep my eyes on the screen. Just as the intro ends I feel my eyes droop a little. I lift my hand to rub away some of the sleep and Edward takes it in his.

He holds it close to his face examining my Mr. Bump band-aid. His eyes then dart from my thumb to my eyes and back.

"You hurt yourself again?" he asks. I feel my forehead crease at his words. How do I tell him I was indulging in his favorite fix and paid the price?

"It's nothing. Just a little cut," I assure him, but he doesn't look appeased.

"How?" It's a simple question, just one I really don't want to answer. I tug a little against his hold and pull my hand back towards me. I refocus on the screen at my feet.

"I may have been using your ring, you know, to relieve stress?"

Why did that come out sounding dirty? There was nothing dirty about it; I mean Angela was there for crying out loud. His eyes narrow and he plucks my hand back.

"You used my ring," he breathes, "And hurt yourself with it?" I'm pretty sure that's what I just said and yet he looks so guilty, ashamed about it. I use my trapped hand to turn his face towards mine.

"Hey, it's not your fault. And it hardly bled," I insist not knowing if I am helping. The look of pain in his eyes doesn't leave. He turns his gaze away and back to the hand. I hold still as he slowly pulls off Mr. Bump and examines the small cut across the pad of my thumb.

It looks even less significant now, hours after the bleeding and having been kept clean and safe by Mr. Bump. I just hope he can see that.

"See? It's nothing. Hardly more than a paper cut and we can't be friends if you're going to get this upset over something silly like a paper cut," I tease softly. He nods slowly.

"Bella, I'm sorry," he whispers. I don't get this. It's really nothing and it's starting to make me mad. I pull my hand away and glare at him.

"Nope. Not accepting an apology for something so stupid. You have nothing to be sorry for. If anything I should be sorry for stealing it in the first place. Call the cut karma if you will," I reply. I shimmy back into my pillows and sigh. Heaven help him when I break a bone. I feel him settle in next to me and I try not to fidget with the heat of his body flowing steady towards me. And all I can think is that it feels nice.

***

She hurt herself because of me. Not directly, but because of me. I don't want people hurt because of me. Especially not people like Bella. This beautiful, beautiful person who calls me her friend. Me.

I take her hand in my lap and trace the pad of her thumb softly with my finger.

She doesn't get it. She doesn't get that that's who I am. Maybe it's just an innocent little scratch. But what if next time it's not just a scratch? What if she really gets hurt because of me? I wouldn't survive it. Not a second time around.

"Bella?" She turns and looks up at me. "Could you please…" my voice breaks and I take a moment to clear it. "Could you please just be careful?"

Her eyes narrow in confusion. "I can try, but you know me."

"I'm sorry," I say again, because I am.

She presses a finger to my lips and shakes her head, irritation glimmering in her eyes. "Nope. Don't say it again. Nothing to be forgiven. Got it?"

And I do. I believe her. Not because there's only a tiny scratch on her thumb. But because it's okay. Because she makes things okay. She looks up at me with her big brown eyes, and she makes me okay.

I tilt my head down until my face is closer to hers. Her eyes widen marginally but I can't stop now. Not with the smell of coconuts infiltrating my brain, not when she's staring up at me like that. So I close the space between us and cover her lips with mine.

She breathes a tiny gasp into my mouth but I've lost every ounce of sense that I've ever had. I take her upper lip in between mine and I kiss her. Her tiny hand squeezes mine and then she's kissing me back.

And I know that coming here tonight was the best idea that I have ever had.

I move closer because I want to feel her. I want everything that is Bella to just seep into me. Her free hand trails slowly up my back and into my hair, pulling me closer. I cup her cheek with my hand and tilt my head before I slip my tongue out and taste her.

She gasps and pulls away almost immediately. "Edward," she says and shrinks away from me, taking her hand with her. "I, you, that, just no. You can't do that to me. You're not allowed. Just… what the hell, Edward?"

I watch, mildly horrified, as she scrambles off of the bed to stand against the wall with her hand buried in her hair.

I clear my throat. "I… Bella, I'm not going to apologize," I say softly. "Maybe I should but I won't."

She looks at me now, her eyes wide and incredulous. "Now you decide to keep the apologies to yourself? I don't even know what to say. What could I possibly say?" She asks and her voice is laced in a combination of anger and panic.

I look down at my lap wishing I was standing so I could stick my hand in my pocket to fucking scratch my own thumb raw. "Maybe… just maybe that it was something that we both needed? Maybe just that once."

"Don't say things like that," she snaps at me, and now I've officially pissed her off. "What ever happens once? Saying it like that makes it sound wrong, feel wrong."

My head snaps up so that I can look at her face. Does that mean… "You don't think it was wrong?"

"Good lord, Edward. I know it was wrong. I just can't seem to make… I can't do this right now. I just can't. We're friends. That's it. You have your girlfriend and your ring and that's what you choose."

I trace a random blue swirl on her comforter. I feel like I should get up. I've made her uncomfortable—I crossed lines. But I don't want to get up. Because as much as I feel as if I should, I also feel like this is where I should be. And the latter is winning right now.

"What happens when that's not enough anymore?" I ask her quietly, not looking up, still tracing the blue line back and forth with the pad of my pointer finger.

"When what's not enough?" she asks, exasperated. "Your girlfriend and the ring in your pocket? I really don't know the answer to that. But I would hope that if you felt that way, you'd do something about it. And by something, I do not mean kissing me. That's the wrong order, the wrong everything."

She's right. Of course she's right. That doesn't make the situation any easier. That doesn't make me want to kiss her any less. Hope is a funny thing, you know. People like me; we get by day by day. Nothing ever changes. We have meaningless, passionless sex with women that have settled with us because we're the good, responsible, adult choice. We work jobs that suck but provide enough income to afford living.

And I was fine with all of it. I was fine with Hannah who oftentimes did things that I didn't like. Hannah who forced me to do things that I wasn't particularly fond of. Hannah who only polishes her toenails the same practical beige of her work bra.

I was okay with all of it.

And then Bella breezed in with her He-man lunch box and clumsiness and her happiness. And I realized how much I've been missing by settling.

I trace her name onto my pants with my finger and then look up at her. "Do you wanna start the movie now?"

***

I'm a fairly intelligent person. I mean I have a bachelor's degree framed on the wall of my mother's house and yet I can't formulate an intelligent thought at the moment. I swallow and continue to practice my breathing techniques.

The last thing I should be doing is climbing back into my bed with this man. This man who moments ago sealed his lips over mine and made me forget for a moment that he wasn't mine to have. Made me forget what would happen if I were to actually give myself over to someone else, but reality peeked its head around quick enough.

After my brief moment of incoherent insanity all I want is my bed. MY bed. If I had been somewhere else, anywhere else when this had happened I would have been able to walk away, but he's sitting on my sanity and I can't be bothered to try and find peace anywhere else.

I slide under the covers and grip them tight up to my chest. Somewhere in the back of my mind it registers that the movie is still playing, but I can't pull myself from the fog I'm blanketed in. He shifts next to me, but is careful to not actually touch me.

My bed starts to work its magic and I can feel valid thought returning to me. I press my cool hand to my own forehead and close my eyes. My mind is trying to grasp futilely at the memory, trying to store it for later, but I am determined to erase it, banish it with the butterflies.

But I'm weak in the moment and I suddenly I am playing through every details. The feel of his lips and the hiss of his breath. I shake my head slightly and bury my face in my pillow.

I haven't felt this way with just a kiss in so long. Years. Since the first time, number one. He was lovely. Everything was simple and sweet and exciting and then he took me to the prom. It wasn't even the dancing that forced that unfortunate end; lord knows he was an awful dancer. It was those three words. The three words I had never heard from another person in my life.

They had never been uttered when my mother tucked me into bed, she was hardly home at my bedtime and I often found refuge in my toys rather than her. And as I grew older I only heard them in the world of fiction, written in books, uttered in movies and they became taboo.

So when he pressed his lips to mine and whispered those words, everything stopped. My heart, my sanity, everything and I did the only thing I had been taught to. I left. I turn-tailed and ran, left everything that those words made me feel at his feet. And so I began this, the stream of nameless men. Giving them numbers made me feel less attached to what I was doing.

And now? What the hell was I supposed to do now? Do with this man I have allowed in under the guise of friendship only to have him turn the tables on me? I know what I want to do. I want to run.

But not now, not tonight.

"Bella?" His voice breaks into my awful realization, but I can't answer him. I don't have answers for myself, much less him. He shifts in the absence of my reply.

"I can leave if you want me to," he offers and my heart constricts. That is the last thing I want. I reach behind me and place my hand over his and just hold it there. Any more effort would require clarity and purpose and I have neither of those.

Softly his hand touches my back and I melt back into the touch. For this moment I can forget he is the one causing all the problems. I can pretend that he is still just my friend and not the man twisting me inside out. His hand moves slowly rubbing up and down the length of my back and before I can begin to work anything else out I am given the gift of sleep and the darkness that goes with it.

***

The sun beating against my eyelids is what wakes me up. I don't actually open my eyes though. Because I'm not in my bed. Where the hell did I fall asleep?

Better yet, who the hell did I fall asleep with? Because Hannah doesn't cross the invisible line on our bed. Ever.

I open one eye slowly and… Bella.

And the events of last night come back to me. I'd be lying if I said that this didn't make me completely fucking ecstatic. Kissing Bella, hugging her, sleeping with her.

I also didn't go home. But dealing with Hannah will be worth it because of this. Because of this woman who's sleeping with a small smile on her face and her hand on my chest. I cover her hand with mine and rub it slowly.

"Bella?" I whisper, not wanting to frighten her. I push a piece of hair off of her face and try again. "Bella."

She groans and then mumbles something incoherent before she rolls over, away from me. I reach out and start scratching her back gently. Her shirt has ridden up in the back, exposing a smooth slice of skin that my fingers are twitching to touch. But I refrain.

"Bella." I scoot closer to her to whisper in her ear. Sleeping in bed with someone is quite possibly the most intimate act, aside from sex, that you can do really. I don't want her to be freaked out.

"Either I'm having a really horrible hangover hallucination, or you are actually in my bed."

My hand stops moving on her back. I try a chuckle to break the tension. "No, we didn't drink last night."

"And why does it sound like you think that is the better of the two options?" she asks and sits up, scooting away from me and starts rubbing her eyes furiously.

And how fucked up am I that I'm lying here with a really pissed off Bella, in her bed, and all I can think is how adorable she looks right now? Her hair is all messed up and her lips are a little swollen and that face she's staring me down with is just… well, fuck, she just looks really cute. So I smile at her. Wrong move because her face just gets even more pissed but I can't help myself.

"Because hallucinating is bad?" I offer.

"No, god, Edward, really? In what impossible corner of your mind do you think that I want to be that girl? The girl who sleeps in a bed with another woman's boyfriend?" She starts muttering under her breath and I guess now would be a good time to not smile. "I am so NOT that girl."

"I never said you were," I tell her quietly and sit up. I pull a pillow into my lap and stare down at it. "I just don't think it's as bad as you're making it out to be."

"How is it not as bad?" she snaps at me. "Are we not waking up together after you kissed me and didn't go home to your girlfriend last night? Is part of that not right?"

I clear my throat because well, when she puts it that way… I shake my head. "It's right but you're making it sound like something worse than what it was, Bella."

"Do you live on a different moral plane than I do? Don't make me say the word. Please don't."

The word? What word is she talking about? Is she going to kick me out? Shit. What is she talking about? And… oh. "Bella," I say quietly, "I don't think it's considered cheating if we didn't actually do anything."

"So now it was nothing. That makes it instantly better. That kissing me was nothing. Good lord." She pushes up off of the bed and starts pacing back and forth. This is all going really, really badly. A lot worse than I had expected it to. She trips over something on the floor and I move to grab her but she holds a hand up. "I think… I just… it would be best if you left."

Knowing something is coming doesn't make it any easier to swallow when it actually happens. I fully expected her to tell me to leave, but hearing the words out loud, coming out of her mouth, hurts a lot worse than I expected it to.

I nod and reach down, slipping my feet into my sneakers, before standing up. "Okay." I walk over to her where she's standing against the wall, staring down at the floor with her arms crossed over her chest. I reach out and tilt her head up until she's looking at me. "I'll leave. But I won't apologize. Not for any of it. Because it was so much more than nothing, Bella—it was everything. I'll call you later."

I lean in and place a soft, chaste kiss on her cheek and then walk away. She needs to think and I need to get home. Hopefully Hannah already left for work.