Author's Note: chocolate Twizzlers for mac214 (thanx4fish) and DoUtrustMe for all of their beta and pre-reading help. Also, I updated BBS this week with a special birthday gift for my beta and friend Jess (jkane180). It's an Emmett POV – pure silliness.

Facebook Status: To quote Homer - D'oh!

Edward's arm draped over my shoulders in a casual way that I didn't understand. How was he so fucking calm? Everything had changed - like, monumentally and irrevocably altered. My nerves felt strung so tight they could be strummed with a guitar pick.

I started to hum "While my Guitar Gently Weeps," glaring at the Hale twins' identically curious expressions.

My leg shook spastically, setting off a wave of tremors from beneath the table, effectively vibrating everyone's lunches. Rosalie contemplated her wiggling Jello with suspicious raccoon eyes while she gnawed at her purple lip.

"My kingdom for a Valium," I pleaded to no one in particular.

"Calm the fuck down," she hissed, bowing her head and cradling it in her arms. In my periphery, Lauren glared at us, and I kicked reflexively at the underside of the bench envisioning her face. The table buckled up slightly at the seam where it connected to the adjacent one; Rose's head was rather unfortunately situated on this fault line and she was jostled. "Fucking ow!"

"Sorry," I muttered, trying to meld myself to Edward's side. He nuzzled my temple with the crown of his head, and I wound my fingers into his messy hair, making it messier still with my attentions.

"What's wrong, pretty girl? You're shaking like a leaf."

"I dunno . . . nothing, I guess. People are staring or whatever."

"Let them," he said proudly and pulled me onto his lap, proceeding to rub my hip in a discreet but maddeningly erotic manner. "Who cares what they think?" His lips vibrated against my ear, and I nearly messed my panties from the sensation of his breath, hot and humid on my skin.

"Right," I agreed, tilting my head. "We're alone in the cafeteria for all I fucking care." I inched my mouth to his, watching his eyelids close reflexively upon my approach.

"Malice Cullen, three o'clock," Rosalie announced venomously.

"Shit," I muttered, pulling away from Edward's kiss. His head landed against my shoulder.

"Where?" Jasper asked, and Rosalie pointed to the tiny girl before punching her brother in the gut.

"Don't be so fucking pathetic."

"But . . . she's wearing pink," he lamented.

"Plant your seed elsewhere, dumbass. She's an evil troll."

"Um," Edward interjected. "She's sorta my sister. Please don't call her a troll."

"Fuck you, Cullen. Yeah, I know she's your sister. Don't you think I remember the way she treated me? If it wasn't for her, maybe Emmett wouldn't have-"

"Rose, stop it," Jasper said with more authority than I'd ever heard him use before. "Let this shit go, already."

"Cunt," she hissed, tossing a bag of Twizzlers in Alice's direction. She missed her by about twenty feet, though, because she threw like an emo douchebag.

"Yeah, she really can be a cunt, can't she." Jasper's voice was strangely wistful.

"Fuck, guys. Stop calling Edward's sister a cunt." Because she's actually an evil fucking puss wound on a cunt.

"Just 'cause you're in love with her brother's dick doesn't mean you don't hate her too," Rosalie reminded me acridly, and I used my non-shaking leg to kick her under the table.

"You hate her?" Edward asked carefully.

"Well . . . not hate, per se." Loathe. Despise. Want to kill her . . . "I mean, I suppose it's a question of semantics, really. She hasn't exactly been very nice to me." Please don't leave me, please don't leave me. Your sister really is a scunt, but please don't leave me for thinking so.

"You're so cock-whipped it's not even funny. Tell him the truth." Dude! Rosalie seriously needed to shut the fuck up. I mean, what was her fucking deal today? And why was she trying to stir my shit up? I'd only ever been nice to her . . . mostly.

"It's alright, Bella," Edward said, sounding like he thought my opinion of his sister was anything other than alright.

He deserved to know how I felt. I was already keeping enough secrets from him.

"I don't like her very much, if I'm being honest," I told him in a small voice, and I felt the hand he'd rested fondly on my hip drop to his side.

I wanted the ground to split open and swallow me. I squeezed my eyes shut, preparing for Edward to defend his sister's honour.

"What did she do to you?" he asked softly, and I opened my eyes.

"Nothing really . . . she doesn't approve of the way I dress."

Jasper shot me a sympathetic look while his sister's eyes betrayed only frustration.

"I'm done eating, I think." Edward said, giving me a look that was probably supposed to impart some sort of private message, but I couldn't get a proper read on him. He patted my leg and I crawled out of his lap, turning into a statue on the edge of the bench. He stood, taking his backpack with him, and I felt hot tears well up in my eyes.

I'd fucked things up. It was over before it began. He was cutting all ties; he didn't want me.

Oh god, this shit was inevitable, but I thought I would have had more time with him. It was over so fast, and it wasn't fucking fair!

It wasn't fair that I wasn't good enough for him.

I wore the wrong kind of jeans.

No. I had the wrong kind of genes.

"Bye," I whispered, swallowing a sob. I could've loved you. I wanted you to be mine. Why won't you be mine?

"Bella?" He was still looking at me.

"Yeah?"

"Are you coming?"

I stared at him, mouth agape like an asshole, trying to process his words in context with my nervous breakdown. "You . . . want me?"

Edward grinned, his eyes crunching up in the corners mirthfully. "Yeah, Bella. I want you . . . but not here, okay?"

I swung my legs over the bench and took the hand he offered, watching with quiet fascination as he knelt to grab my bag for me. He slung both bags over his shoulder and smoothed his charcoal-coloured sweater down over his abs.

"C'mon, pretty girl. I want you all to myself before class."

"Why?" His sweater was so soft, so warm against my arm as I clung to him.

"I need some kisses from that beautiful mouth of yours."

Everyone was looking at us, and I didn't care.

It was heaven, right here in the middle of hell.

-({})-

"I think physical quantities are totally inappropriate units of measurement for things." Fuck, Edward was good with his tongue. Whatever he was doing to my neck was making me crazy. "Temporal quantities, man, that's where it's at."

"Yeah," he said breathlessly, pulling my breast out of my bra. Thank fuck the windows were fogged up from the humidity and lust thickening the air inside the Volvo. It was sultry - sultry like a Tennessee Williams play in the backseat of his car. My pussy mewled languidly in a southern accent, begging me to let it out of my pants to play in the Elysian Fields of Edward's mouth.

"Yeah," I panted. "Like, for example, I estimate we have about ten minutes of make-out time before the bell rings."

"Twelve, but who's counting?"

"Twelve," I agreed, reaching behind my back to unhook my bra. "Food should be measured in time too."

"That's fucking brilliant. Makes perfect sense." Edward swirled his tongue around my nipple before pulling it between his lips in a gentle suck.

"If I know I have fifteen minutes of eating time, I'd like to be able to order fifteen minutes worth of food."

"Perfectly logical."

"You're not really listening to my nonsensical ramblings are you?"

"Food measured in time . . . sex measured in food."

I patted the top of his head, "It's a good thing you're so pretty, Sex-hair. You may have two more minutes of titty sucking before I demand to see some of your skin."

"Bella," he pleaded. "It's not a good idea."

"Titty sucking?"

"No. Me taking my clothes off."

"But it's not fair that you get to do what you want with me, but I can't touch you."

"Most girls would consider it a blessing," he teased.

"I guess I'm not most girls." I pushed him off of me, and he groaned with disappointment.

"Why are you insisting on this shit? I'm crazy about you, baby. Let me make you feel good."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because this feels like sexual penance or something . . . like you're denying yourself to prove something." I placed my hand on his stomach. "You make me feel good, Edward. Just that you want me is enough." I leaned forward and kissed the hollow of his neck, flicking my tongue out to taste the sweet and salty skin there. "Can you understand that I want to-no, I need to make you feel good too? Can you trust me enough with your body the way I've trusted you with mine?"

"Baby," he whispered. "I trust you . . . I don't trust myself. I'm a horny, insensitive asshole."

"Shut the fuck up. That's not you at all."

"I use women."

"Are you using me?"

He was quiet for a moment. "I really hope not. I've never felt this way before . . . I've never wanted to just, I don't know, fucking worship someone without getting anything in return."

"But you're not sure . . . that you're not using me." I lowered my head, trying not to panic.

"I don't trust myself. That's why I don't want you to touch me. I don't want to ever be in a position to take from you again."

"That's ridiculous! How are we supposed to have a relationship if my hands need to be tied behind my back every time we're making out."

His eyes widened. "You want me to tie you up? Fuck, I mean, what?"

I laughed. "Take your cock out, pretty boy. I'm giving you head."

"Just like that, huh."

"Yep. Just like that. Let your trouser snake out of its denim prison."

"Um . . . what?" He laughed.

"Sorry! I've been reading a lot of bad porn. Just give me your dick, okay? There really isn't an eloquent way to ask for it, and by my calculation, we only have six minutes of cock-sucking time, so I really don't have time to be pretty with my words."

To my surprise, he didn't argue any further. I watched, completely mesmerized as he raised his hips off the seat, unbuckling his dark, leather belt with swift fingers. His hands were so gorgeous - I never noticed before. Piano player hands. He had lean, long fingers, and they moved with a grace that was unfathomable to me. I was so taken with the shocking beauty of his hands that I almost - almost - didn't notice his cock bobbing proudly out of his boxers.

It, too, was so fucking pretty. How could a dick be pretty?

"Was this the dick that launched a thousand ships..."

"Um, what?"

"It's Homer."

"Simpson?"

"No," I giggled. "The Illiad. Bad reference. Sorry." I bent down and ran my tongue around the swollen head of his cock. "It's just so . . . lovely. I want to write it a poem or something."

"I love you; you're awesome."

What?

What?

"What?"

"You're awesome?"

"Thanks." I love you too.

"Bella-"

"Shhh. Cock sucking going on here." I stuffed his dick in my mouth quickly before I could say something stupid. I think it surprised him; he gasped and bucked and cursed as I sucked almost his entire length back into my throat, keeping my larynx relaxed so I wouldn't gag.

Slowly, carefully, I raised my head, sucking his shaft the entire way up until only his head remained on my tongue, which I swirled around the underside. A groan rumbled out of his chest, and I felt rather affectionate, strangely. I'd never felt sweet before while giving head, but I wanted to run my fingers all over his body; I wanted to use my hands to tell him how very much I adored him.

Instead of words, I offered him my tongue.

My hand hugged him at the base of his dick, squeezing him in tandem with my mouth. I lost myself in the sounds of his pleasure, the soft moans and gasps that filled the space around us. Listening to him beg and praise me, felt his hands, his beautiful fucking hands, wind their way through my hair, helping me set a rhythm. His breath came in hard and fast gasps, and I sucked his length, keeping time with his respiration, imagining how the ebb and flow of motion along his shaft felt, and trying to anticipate what would offer him the most pleasure.

"Baby," he groaned, tugging at my hair as his cock pulsed in my mouth. "I'm gonna come."

I hummed my approval at this notion, sucking harder and rolling his balls tenderly in my hands.

"Fuck, I can't hold- fuuuuck."

His hands became tight fists at the base of my head, and I sucked harder, urging him with my hand and tongue towards his release. He grunted a string of curses, his cock pulsing hot, salty, bitter bursts into the back of my throat.

I swallowed several times.

"You swallow," he sighed in wonderment.

"It would appear so." Except I never had before.

"You're beautiful."

"I'm in love with you," I gushed before I could stop myself. I crawled into his lap and wrapped my arms around his neck. "Edward, I love you." He wrapped his arms around me, stroking the small of my back tenderly. "Please, please, love me too."

"I'll do my best, Bella. I promise to do my best, okay?"

It was the best I could hope for.

Wasn't it?

"Try," I urged him. "Just . . . try."

"I will," he promised, but his eyes were tight, his lips set in a grim line. "We better get to class, pretty girl."

"Okay," I agreed, shifting off of him.

"Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you . . . for doing that."

I smiled. "It was my pleasure."

"I promise . . . I mean, I really do promise to try." His tone was apologetic and hopeful at once.

"Thanks," I replied.

It was the best I could hope for.

It was.

A/N – A preview of the next chapter to anyone who can tell me in their review why I included a reference to Elysian Fields in the Tennessee Williams/backseat of the car description.

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