11

Everything in Edward's life seemed to be so halfhearted and without purpose. He didn't really play the piano, he didn't really paint, and he slept with me but didn't know I was his girlfriend. I decided I needed to get a professional opinion on how to deal with Edward.

I made an appointment with the dean of the psychology department and showed up with a list of questions. Dr. Zonis was a large, intimidating man with a head full of white hair. His blue eyes were piercing and I felt a bit uneasy as I asked him things. I asked what the difference between being mildly antisocial and fully antisocial. He told me most fully antisocial people end up in prison. Being diagnosed with a mild case would make a person appear normal at times and then disconnected at other times.

He asked me if Edward got into fights, had substance abuse problems, and if he lied a lot. I tried to answer, but I hadn't really known him very long. I mentioned his talent with art and music and the professor sat back to contemplate my words.

"I took part in a study a few years ago," he said almost to himself. "I would really like to meet your friend." I wasn't sure Edward would agree to come meet a psychology professor, especially since he viewed himself as stupid for not going to college. I promised to try but I didn't hold out much hope.

I went to work that evening and began to run a fever. By the time my shift was over I felt like death. I made my way to the campus infirmary and received some strong antibiotic for a sinus infection and was told to rest. I wasn't sure how much rest I was going to get with finals staring me in the face.

I made it home and took some Tylenol and got into bed. My phone rang but I didn't have the energy to answer it. The next morning I drug myself from my bed and loaded up on meds to make it to class. I tried to listen to the review for our final test but my stuffy head made it difficult.

I decided to go home and study on my own. I sent off a text to Edward telling him I wasn't feeling well and the only response I got was a text telling me he was in Spokane. I was too sick to worry about what would take him to Spokane and how he got there. I pushed it from my mind and tried to study as I remained in bed.

The next day I felt well enough to head to classes, the last day before finals. I was stuffed up and sounded very nasally. I went to work and used an entire box of Kleenex as I made a last ditch effort to cram. I was headed home for the night when Angela called me.

"Hi, I'm coming home, I'm beat," I said breathing through my mouth.

"Did you let some artist paint you?" she asked. I immediately thought of the picture Edward painted of me and Emmett.

"Why?" I asked.

"I was at this little boutique in Bellevue and they have a painting of you hanging in their store."

"Are you sure it just doesn't resemble me?" I asked.

"No, this is you, but wearing period clothing as if you were a French courtesan."

"Who was the artist?" I asked.

"It was signed by E. Masen. The woman said they paid five thousand dollars for it," she giggled and then added, "You're famous Bella."

"Um…I'm going to stop by Edward's for a bit and I'll be home soon," I said, and then drove right to the cement shack. I saw his motorcycle chained to the wall but I knew he wasn't delivering art with that thing.

I kicked on the door and when I heard him coming I yelled out, "Edward, its Bella."

He opened the door as he cleaned paint off of his hands. "When did you get back from Spokane?" I asked.

He furrowed his forehead when he heard the sound of my voice and said, "Don't kiss me when we fu…do it, I don't want that cold."

He had a serious look on his face as I shook my head in disbelief. I finally pushed past him and rushed down the steps. I ran right up to the nearest painting and looked at the signature…E. Masen.

I spun around and yelled, "You're a successful artist. You sell your art all over the state, don't you?"

"Sometimes out of state," he said bluntly with no emotion or sense of my anger.

"God Edward, your family thinks you're a drug dealer," I screamed and he only laughed. It didn't bother him at all that they had no idea who he was. It dawned on me I didn't know him either.

"You afford your house by selling art," I observed and he quickly corrected me.

"No, I invest the money I make on the art. If I watch the trends closely there's a pattern I can see and double my money."

I stared at him as my heart pounded furiously. He was playing the market and winning, something was terribly wrong with his diagnosis. "Edward," I said with my stuffed up voice. "There is someone I want you to see at the university."

He took a step away from me and looked a bit scared. "I'm not taking medication," he said forcefully.

"No, it isn't like that. He wants to talk to you because something isn't right with your diagnosis. I mean some of it seems right, but some of it is totally…off."

He walked over to sit on the small bed in the corner. He was staring down as if the idea of seeing someone scared him. He finally said, "Bella, I can't be like Emmett. You should have chosen him."

I rushed over to grab his hands and plead with him. "No, I'm not trying to change you. I don't want Emmett because I don't love him." It wasn't the moment I had dreamed of. I never imagined telling him I loved him with a stuffed up nose and the threat of a psychologist hanging over his head. "I love you, Edward. Do you hear me, I love you."

For some reason my declaration was difficult for him. His face looked tortured and he tried to pull his hands from mine, but I held on tightly and moved my face to his eyes no matter how he tried to look away. He finally nodded a couple of times and then pulled me onto the mattress with him.

He kissed me passionately, obviously no longer concerned about my cold. For the first time we didn't have sex, we made love. He was tender and taking his time, making sure to check if he was doing what I wanted. I was stunned when he never reached for a condom but everything was progressing so smoothly it would have ruined it all.

Edward obviously had a problem using verbal skills to express himself, but when he let loose with his emotion and tried to feel, it was a totally different story. I felt like one of his paintings or a piece of his music. He was the artist and I let him make me into his creation.

I lay in the small bed as I struggled with my clogged sinuses. I finally said, "I need to go home and take some medicine, do you want to sleep over?"

He sat up and looked over at me before saying, "Naw, I like my bed at home better."

I began gathering my clothes and said, "It isn't about the mattress, Edward. Do you want to sleep in my arms or not?"

He thought for a few seconds, as if trying really hard to concentrate on what he wanted to say. "I need to finish a painting and I don't want to disturb your sleep. You need to rest."

I smiled at his effort to be considerate of my needs and gave him a quick kiss before leaving him to his work. I made it through finals and ended up taking a second round of antibiotics to get rid of the horrible infection. I was feeling great just in time to start the summer semester of school. If I got the classes I needed for the fall I could graduate in December.

We were at the Cullens for Sunday brunch when to topic of Dr. Zonis came up. Edward was playing his guitar loudly so nobody could hear each other talk and I finally said, "Esme, did Edward ever take guitar lessons?"

She looked over to where he sat on the floor and shook her head back and forth. I pressed further and asked, "What about piano lessons, or art classes?"

"I guess he is just naturally talented," she answered with a hint of pride.

Emmett looked at me and asked, "Is there a reason for the questions?"

"Do you know Dr. Zonis, the head of the psychology department?" I asked and he nodded. "He would like to meet with Edward and see if he concurs with his diagnosis."

Edward stopped playing and looked over at where we all sat. I tried to act totally unconcerned and quickly added, "Of course he has no intentions of trying to medicate Edward. He only wants to speak with him."

"I don't see what it would hurt," Emmett offered, as if Edward was incapable of making the decision himself.

"I would like to meet Dr. Zonis," Esme said. "Carlisle and I would like a little information beforehand."

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind," I said with a smile and Edward began to play loudly again.

We didn't talk about it again until later that night. I usually didn't sleep over since his house was far from the downtown area and I worked most nights. Sunday nights were my chance to spend extra time in his bed. I was tucked in his arm and I ran my fingers lightly up and down his bare chest.

"Edward, do you mind if I call Dr. Zonis and set up a time to meet?"

"I guess not," he said, close to sleep.

"Would you like me to come with you or would you rather see him on your own?"

He yawned loudly and then mumbled, "I don't care. I bet the conversation won't last long."

I sat up on my elbow and knew he was trying to sleep but I wanted an explanation. "Why won't the conversation last long?"

"People never talk to me for very long. But I don't care, most of the time they only talk shit anyway."

I lay back down and realized I never saw Edward have an in-depth conversation with anyone. He was always on the peripheral of conversations instead of included in them. We slept deeply that night and I was awakened by Edward playing with my hair.

I smiled with my eyes closed and he leaned over to whisper in my ear. "I'm so hard for you."

"For me… or a spontaneous erection?" I teased.

He chuckled and rolled onto his back to show me the topic of our conversation. "Does it really matter; I need you to handle it for me."

I put my hand under the blanket and gave him a firm squeeze. "There, I handled it."

"Again," he said with a smile.

I repeated the action and he said it one more time, "Again."

I rolled onto him and straddled his body and used more than my hand this time. His chin raised high as his head arched and he moaned loudly. I began to move faster and harder as he grabbed the sheets with both of his fists. He tightened his body to the point his legs were ridged and his jaw was clenched.

I cried out first, calling his name loudly in the morning light filtering through the curtains. He joined my cries and said clearly, "God Bella, I love you."

It was the first time he ever said it. He wasn't waiting for a response or tossing it out as a general hello or goodbye. He was talking from his heart as we gave each other the pleasure we desired. I collapsed onto his spent body and held him tightly. I felt we were destined to be together forever.