A/N: I said it before, and I'll say it again: I don't own Twilight.

Chapter 14

BPOV

Secrecy Protested
by Thomas Carew

Fear not (dear love) that I'll reveal
Those hours of pleasure we two steal
No eye shall see, nor yet the Sun
Descry what thou and I have done;

No ear shall hear our love, but we
Silent as the night will be;
The god of love himself (whose dart
Did first wound mine and then thy heart),

Shall never know, that we can tell,
What sweets in stol'n embraces dwell.
This only means may find it out,
If, when I die, physicians doubt

What caus'd my death, and there to view
Of all their judgments which was true -
Rip up my heart, oh! then, I fear,
The world will see thy picture there.

I hadn't remembered that poem until the moment I saw him flipping through the pages of that collection. Like a psycho, I happened to take a mental note of the page number it was on. It seemed like an altogether fitting poem for our situation, and I wanted a subtle way to let him to know that I didn't plan on telling anyone about us. Lord knows, I wanted to climb onto a roof, spin around with my hands in the air, and sing 'I'm in Love with a Wonderful Guy' from South Pacific, but there was just too much at stake.

As I drove home, I smiled at the thought of Carlisle returning to his living room to look for the book of poetry that I cast aside earlier that night, wondering all the while what he was about to find. I wished I could see his reaction as he read it.

I parked my truck and silently cursed its loud engine - I hoped to God that I hadn't woken Angela up. The last thing I wanted was to get the third degree from her.

Turns out, it didn't matter how much noise my truck made. I could see the lights were on in the living room and kitchen as I walked up the front steps.

Dammit.

I unlocked the door, stepped inside, and looked around. But there was no sign of her.

"Angela?" I called as I walked into the kitchen. "You home?" I tossed my bag down on the table. Maybe she wasn't home and just simply forgot to turn the lights off before she left. I looked for a note, but there wasn't one - not on the fridge, not on the table, not anywhere.

Where the hell was she?

Suddenly, I felt two hands grab me forcefully from behind. I shrieked and whirled around, my hands balled into fists - ready to defend me from my attacker.

"Welcome home, Smella!" There was Angela, glassy-eyed and smiling.

And drunk.

"Jesus Christ, Ang! You scared the shit out of me!" I gasped. "You're lucky I didn't punch you!"

"I know, I know! Sorry! I'm so sorry! But where've you been, Smella?" She giggled. "I missed you. I had no one to drink with...come have a shot with me."

I smiled - Angela always called me Smella when she was blitzed, she found it hilarious. But my amusement turned into concern as I watched her sway back and forth. Something seemed off.

"Babe, are you okay?"

She shook her head violently back and forth. "Ben and I broke up." She wrapped her arms tightly around my waist and let her head flop against my chest.

"Oh sweetie, I'm sorry to hear that. That really sucks." I hugged her back and stroked her hair gently. "What happened? I thought you guys had just gotten back together." I gently led her out to the living room and pulled her down onto the couch. "Tell me all about it."

"He called me earlier tonight and said that we shouldn't see each other anymore."

"Did he say why?"

"He said that he met some stupid whore named Lauren when he went to go see his brother's band play at the Green Iguana. Apparently, she really 'gets him' and now he wants to spend some more time with her; without having to worry about me. I'm pretty sure that means he - he fucked her." Angela wailed, her voice breaking.

I felt so bad for my friend, but this wasn't the first time he'd broken her heart. She'd reacted this same way each time - it was getting a little old. I knew it was just a matter of time before Ben gave up on his new floozy and came crawling back to Angela. She'd done the exact same thing to him last summer when she met this guy named Eric at a 4th of July barbecue.

"Ang, you know I love you, but seriously - this has got to stop."

"I know, I know!" She groaned. "But it still hurts! Please...come have a drink with me!" She grabbed my wrist and tried to stand up, but immediately fell back onto the couch.

"I think you've had enough to drink, sweetheart. You should go to bed - don't you have class at ten-thirty tomorrow?"

"I think, you should have a drink with me...and then I'll go to bed." She folded her arms across her chest and looked at me as if to say, "Your move, Smella."

I sighed, knowing that the quickest way to deal with Angela when she was like this was just to give her what she wanted.

"Two shots of vodka, coming up. You stay here, babe - I'll get them."

I went into the kitchen and grabbed two shot glasses from the cupboard. I filled one with vodka and one with water to which I added just a splash of the alcohol. Angela wouldn't notice the difference at this point, and I figured one shot for me wouldn't hurt - in fact, it would probably help me fall asleep.

"Here you go." I said as I handed her the glass. "What should we drink to?"

She didn't answer me. Instead, she just stared at me intently and frowned.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Where'd you get that shirt?" She said, narrowing her eyes at me.

In retrospect, it would seem that wearing Carlisle's shirt home was maybe not such a great decision. I could feel the blood immediately rushing to my cheeks.

"Where were you tonight?"

"Tonight? Oh, um...I went out to dinner with a, a friend. And, of course, I spilled...marinara...on my shirt, so..."

"You're such a bad liar." Even in her inebriated state, she could still pretty much read me like a book. "Where were you really?"

Perhaps I should have taken my time and really thought out a good lie, but unfortunately, I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind.

"I was at Edward's."

It was plausible - I had run into Edward around campus a couple of times since he'd started going to school here. We were always able to exchange pleasantries, but circumstances didn't usually allow for much more than that.

She blinked. "Edward? As in Edward Masen - your ex-boyfriend? What the hell were you doing there?!"

"Ummm, well, he called and asked me if I wanted to grab a drink and catch up tonight."

"On a Thursday? You never go out on a Thursday."

Oh shit.

"I know. But he begged me, Ang. He said he missed me, so I figured, 'What could it hurt?'"

"And now you're wearing his shirt?" She asked, raising a knowing eyebrow at me.

"Ummm, yeah. I'm so bad." My stomach was tying itself into knots.

"You're a dirty girl, Smella." She smirked and held her shot glass toward me. "To old flames."

I managed a half smile and clinked my glass against hers. "Bottoms up." The vodka burned as it ran down my throat, but I welcomed it with open arms. I hated doing this - I'd never outright lied to her about something this big before. Part of me was screaming that I should just tell her the truth - she was supposed to be my best friend after all. But I knew I couldn't.

I watched as Angela's eyes became half-hooded, and I was able to catch her just before she slumped to the floor. Thank God I hadn't given her a full shot.

"Bedtime, Angel." I mumbled as I threw her arm over my shoulder and wrapped my own around her waist. I walked her slowly and steadily to her bedroom and then laid her down on her bed. I was relieved that she was already wearing her pajamas. Putting clothes on a drunk Angela was like trying to stuff limp spaghetti into a straw.

I pulled her wastebasket next to her bed and looked at her guiltily.

"I'm really sorry, babe - but I hope you don't remember any of this tomorrow." I sighed.

"'Member what t'morrow?" She murmured.

"Exactly." I whispered as I shut off the light. "G'night."