A/N: I am forever appreciative of the love this story receives, whether you added this to your alerts on Day 1 or last night! [insert heart here]

Ugh, these women. I don't know what I'd do without their [wonderfully constructive] criticism: Pinkaquaclouds and lyleslove.

It's been a long time coming, you guys. Thanks for sticking with me thus far. Enjoy! ;)

Chapter 21: Prelude to a Kiss

The first thing Bella becomes aware of is the fact that someone is repeatedly hitting her in the head with a hammer.

She groans, rolling onto her back and putting both hands on her head, willing the pounding to stop. Her throat has never felt so dry and the sunlight filtering in through the windows seems much brighter than usual. The light manages to pierce through her eyelids, intensifying the headache by a tenfold.

Bella swallows, but it's a fruitless effort. The dehydration burns her throat, torturing her as she forces herself into a sitting position.

She tries to open her eyes, but the room spins and the light is too much. Groaning again, she falls backwards, burying her face in her pillow.

Until she realizes that this is not her pillow.

Her eyes fly open and she ignores how they burn as she looks around, panic welling up in her chest at the sight of the very unfamiliar room.

Bits and pieces of what happened the night before flash through her head; music, drinking, dancing, laughter, and Edward.

So much of Edward.

His scent assaults her senses all at once, and Bella realizes that this must be his bed. With the realization come many incriminating thoughts.

Oh my god, why am I in his bed? Did we do something? Where is he? God, I was so drunk I barely remember anything. Why didn't he take me back to school?

Bella sits up once more and clutches her head against the vertigo as she looks down at herself. Her heart skips a beat when she sees that she is no longer in her dress, but in a large navy blue t-shirt and basketball shorts.

Heat rushes to her cheeks when it dawns on her that Edward must have had to undress and dress her. Oh my god, I wasn't even wearing a bra.

The thought feels so wrong, and yet there's something else, aside from the embarrassment, that makes her squirm.

Bella looks around the room, observing her surroundings. She's sitting in an immensely comfy bed, wrapped in the coziest navy blue comforter. The walls are a dull gray and bare, the personality of the room reserved for the two overflowing bookshelves facing the bed. A desk with a laptop and an eccentric-looking swivel chair sit to her left, a closet door stands open next to a massive beanbag chair, and a dresser sits by the door.

She glances to the bedside table and sees the small clutch she carried last night. Right next to it is a half-frozen water bottle, the plastic covered in condensation.

Grabbing it, she revels in the icy coldness of the water as it rushes down her throat. Some of it dribbles down her chin and down to her chest, making her shiver.

Bella wipes her mouth on her hand and grabs her bag, pulling out her phone. After replying to Charlotte's hungover text message and assuring her roommate that she's okay, Bella climbs out of the bed and carefully gets to her feet.

Walking over to the mirror over the dresser, she takes a good look at her appearance.

Her skin looks pasty and the messy ponytail she wore last night is an entirely different kind of messy now. Her eyes are caked with dried mascara and eyeliner, smeared to give her a zombie-like look. She clutches the dresser for balance, watching herself sway on her feet.

Ignoring the terrible pressure on her bladder, she decides to go on the hunt for Edward. She opens the door and peeks out, seeing that she's at the end of a short hallway. There are two other doors, both shut.

Bella steps out into the hallway, the smell of food wafting towards her. It stirs her stomach, mixing in with the anxiety of being in this new place.

In her line of sight, she can see that the hallway opens up into a living room, and she can only see half of the back of a couch and part of a TV.

Bella pauses when she hears male voices, hushed among the clatter of an unseen kitchen.

She recognizes Edward's smooth voice, accompanied by a much deeper, rumbling one.

"… she did," Edward says. "I don't know if it counts, considering…"

"Considering she was wasted?" the deeper voice asks.

Bella cringes. What the hell did I do last night?

Unable to eavesdrop for fear of what she'll hear, she bites her lips and coughs so that they'll know she's coming.

Bella steps out into the kitchen, feeling awkward and exposed. Edward and another slightly older man stand across from each other with the kitchen island in between them. Both of their heads whip in her direction.

"Hey," Edward says, moving towards her. He seems to be dressed for work, though he still wears his glasses. "How are you feeling?" He searches her face with concern, a crease forming between his brows.

"I've been-" Her voice comes out raspy and she clears her throat. "I've been better."

"This is Eleazar," Edward says, nodding towards his roommate without taking his eyes off of Bella. "My roommate."

Eleazar smiles a dimpled grin. "It's nice to finally meet you, Bella. Even if the circumstances are a little…"

He trails off and an awkward silence falls upon them, one which Eleazar breaks by loudly clapping his hands together.

"Anyway," he says."I've gotta go see the fiancé. You kids be good, all right?"

He smirks at Edward, who glares at him, before grabbing a pair of car keys and leaving. The door clicks shut, and the two are left alone.

Bella glances around the room, at the large, fairly messy living room and small kitchen. It's fairly obvious that two guys live here.

"You should eat something," Edward says determinedly, walking over to the refrigerator. "Does your head hurt? Did you drink the water I left for you? Do you feel nauseous? Do you want me to make you something? Eggs, bacon, pancakes…"

Bella slowly shuffles over to the stool by the counter and sits down. Her stomach growls violently and she realizes that she's ravenous. "You cook?"

Edward shrugs. "I manage. Cooking is chemistry."

Bella feels something brush against her foot and squeals, jumping in her seat. A gray and white cat gives her a reproachful look and Edward laughs.

"That's Molly," he says, picking the cat up. He holds her up and scratches her head, a small smile on his lips. The sight is endearing and makes Bella smile. "I think I forgot to mention I had her."

Bella opens her mouth to say that she already knew, but then audibly snaps it shut. He doesn't need to know about her Facebook stalking. Edward gives her a questioning look and she feels her cheeks warm.

"What exactly happened last night?" she asks quietly. It's best to get this conversation over with.

Edward lets Molly go and sits on a stool across from Bella. Surprisingly, his ears are turning pink. "You don't remember?"

"Was it that bad?" Bella asks, stomach twisting with dread. Edward blushing, even if it is just his ears, can't be a good sign. As if her sitting here in his clothes isn't bad enough.

"Just tell me what you remember," he hedges.

Bella shakes her head, painstakingly trying to pick out memories. "Lots of drinking, dancing… you danced with me." She says it with surprise.

Edward smiles, just a little. "I did."

Bella rubs her forehead. "Um…" She can't think with Edward staring at her so intensely. His eyes pierce into hers imploringly, willing her to remember something.

"Did I throw up?" she asks. She tugs at the t-shirt she wears. "I remember being outside… Oh, you carried me!" Edward's ears turn pink again. "Oh my god, did I throw up on you?" Her expression is horrified and Edward grimaces.

"You threw up on the both of us…" he says. Bella covers her face with both hands. "But that's good! If you hadn't puked, you'd have woken up nauseous and repulsed by food."

"I'm so, so sorry."

"It's okay; it was out of your hands."

"Is Charlotte's dressed completely ruined?"

"It may need repeated dry cleaning, but…"

"Oh, god."

"Hey." Edward reaches across the counter and tugs her hand away from her face. She contritely looks up at him with her head lowered, her cheeks flaming. Edward pulls her hand away but holds onto it. "Relax. I'm sure Charlotte will understand. There is a seventy-five percent chance that everyone ruined some clothing last night."

"I didn't have to go and ruin yours, too."

"Accidents happen."

Bella doesn't want to know the answer to her next question. "Was that the only accident?"

Edward looks away, his ears getting even redder, and Bella feels herself blanching.

"Tell me," she says urgently when he doesn't respond.

"You don't remember anything else?" Edward asks. "After we left? When we were outside, when I was carrying you to the car…" His eyes implore her to remember, please, remember, because he doesn't want to say it.

Bella closes her eyes and pulls her hand out of his to rub her temples. Bits and pieces come back to her; she remembers feeling nauseous and stumbling, but Edward was there. He was always there. He picked her up and his face was so close to hers. She remembers singing and she remembers being mesmerized by his mouth…

The memory is a blur and feels almost like a long forgotten dream, but it forms one grainy piece at a time. It's like she's looking at it through a kaleidoscope in her mind, an abstract, distorted collage of images.

She is filled with absolute horror at the recollection of what she'd done. All the blood in her body rushes to her face as her chest tightens with panic.

"I… k-kissed you?" Bella's voice is a small squeak in the silent apartment, her eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. She wants to sink to the ground and melt into the floor, never to be seen or heard from again. "No, I couldn't have… Not like that…."

Edward stares at her, his gaze still piercing through her, and she has never wanted him to lie to her as much as she wants him to lie to her now.

He licks his lips and parts them to speak, but all Bella can think is that she kissed them.

She doesn't know what's worse: that she kissed him while she was drunk or that she barely remembers it.

Bella presses her palms into her cheeks and closes her eyes. "Oh, Jesus."

Edward clears his throat. "Hey."

"I just can't even… oh, god…." She shakes her head, distraught and embarrassed.

Edward reaches forward and pulls her hands away from her face again. Bella squints at him, and is surprised when he smiles gently.

"How many times do I have to tell you that it's okay?" he asks.

Bella grimaces. "Until I believe it."

He's still holding onto her hand, his thumb rubbing up and down her palm. It tingles.

Something about the gesture compels her to be honest.

"It just wasn't supposed to happen like that," she whispers.

Bella looks away, surprising herself when she feels her eyes beginning to sting. Why does saying that make me want to cry?

Edward is silent, and she sees the sadness in his eyes.

"Things rarely happen how they are supposed to," he says. "It's even rarer for them to happen exactly how we imagine."

"But drunk?" she says exasperatedly. "God, it was probably all gross and smelly."

"On the contrary," Edward says seriously, "The details are inconsequential. It was you, and that's all that mattered. It's all that will ever matter."

Bella stares at him, at the conviction on his face, and her insecurities disappear for the moment.

Edward stands up abruptly, the legs of his stool scraping loudly against the floor. He steps towards the fridge again.

"Food," he says determinedly, though he sounds like he's talking to himself.

Bella's stomach rumbles at the mention of sustenance, and the intensely appealing image of a greasy cheeseburger pops into her head.

"You don't have to cook anything," she assures him. "I'm actually suddenly really craving horribly unhealthy fast food…"

"Copious amounts of fast food it is. We'll go out."

"Don't you have work?" Bella asks, eying his professional garb.

"I've got plenty of time," Edward says, glancing at the digital clock in the stove. "I'm an early riser."

"And I am a wreck," Bella says embarrassedly. She remembers her poor state of dress and her smeared makeup. "Maybe some other time."

"No," Edward says hastily. "You can get cleaned up; I'll get you some more, um, appropriate clothes, and we can go. Don't worry; no one's going to be at Archie's this early on a Saturday."

Bella fidgets, wanting to spend more time with him but also wanting to save herself from further humiliation.

She knows which one she wants a little more, though, and Edward knows what that is.

Without a word, he takes her hand and begins pulling her away. He stops outside a bathroom door, opens it, steps into his bedroom for a moment, and returns with a bundle.

In Bella's arms, he places a thick, navy blue towel and a MGU sweatshirt. "Are the shorts okay, or do you want sweats? I think I have a pair that's small on me."

Bella feels strung tight and electrified, standing so close to him and wearing his clothes. "The shorts are fine."

The fabric of Edward's shirt rubs against her chest as he wordlessly slides past her and into the bathroom.

Immediately, her nipples harden, and she hugs the towels to her, hating herself for not having worn a bra last night.

Edward reaches down and opens a cabinet under the sink, pulling out a toothbrush that's still in the packaging. He delicately places it on top of the sink. "Sometimes Eleazar's fiancé spends the night, and she has this thing about not sharing toothbrushes…." He trails off, awkwardly glancing away before stepping towards her again.

This time, Bella steps aside and lets him pass.

"You can shower, do whatever you want," Edward says, walking backwards towards the living room. "Yell if you need something."

Bella opens her mouth to thank him, but the words don't come quick enough. He's already turned the corner, and the apartment falls silent.

Taking a deep breath, Bella steps into the bathroom and shuts the door, locking it.

The first thing she does is run to the toilet. The pressure on her bladder is painful now, and relieving it feels like absolute heaven.

A minute later, she washes her hands and looks in the mirror. Her cheeks are flushed and her hard nipples are pressing into the fabric of Edward's t-shirt. She reaches up and rubs a thumb across one, watching as the puckered fabric flattens.

Letting out a breath and shaking her head, she turns towards the bathtub. Thoughts of a naked Edward flit through her mind, and she turns away again.

She can't do this. She can't shower in his tub. It's too awkward, too much, and too soon. She's going to combust any second now.

After realizing that she's spent an irrational amount of time measuring a shower on the Awkward Scale, she decides to forget about it. A shower would have to wait until she gets back to campus. It's a good thing she doesn't smell like vomit.

Bella vigorously brushes her teeth, tongue, and washes all traces of makeup from her face. She pats her face dry with Edward's towel and buries her nose in it. It smells like laundry detergent, but it smells like him the most. She changes into the sweatshirt next, loving how it envelopes her and surrounds her with more of his scent.

She can't get enough of it.

After fixing her ponytail, she stares at herself in the mirror and takes a deep breath. You can do this. It's just Edward.

Feeling a little more confident, she grabs the used towel and the old t-shirt, stepping back into the hallway.

For the second time that morning, she freezes at the sound of two voices.

This time, there's a female voice.

Bella's stomach twists as she strains her ears, listening to the unfamiliar voice. It's high-pitched and angry, though she keeps her voice down. Nevertheless, the words echo.

"… doing it again," the female voice says. "After everything we went through to fix you-"

"I didn't need fixing," Edward says, his voice tense. "I wasn't broken, Irina."

Irina? The uncomfortable feeling in Bella's stomach grows stronger. Whereas she didn't want to eavesdrop on Eleazar and Edward that morning, she can't find it in herself to move away from this female voice.

"You know what I mean," Irina states. "I'll be damned if I let anyone do that to you again. Especially the girl who started it in the first place…"

They have to be talking about me, Bella realizes with a sick feeling.

"I don't need you to protect me."

"I'm not trying to!"

"Oh, so you didn't have preventative intentions by coming here and telling me what a big mistake I'm making?"

"All I'm saying is for you to be careful," Irina says, using a gentler tone now. "Think about this."

"Don't tell me what to do."

Bella's never heard Edward sound so angry, and she's certainly never heard Edward speak to a woman this way. She can sense that there's a history between the two, and the thought makes her queasy.

"I'm not," Irina insists. "Edward…" She trails off with a sigh. "You know how I feel about her. You can't trust her."

"You don't know her."

Bella's heard enough. She reaches over and shuts the bathroom door, the click echoing down the hallway and alerting them of her presence. Immediately, their voices fall silent.

Bella turns and walks back into Edward's bedroom, her appetite gone. She drops the towel into a hamper in the corner and then hesitates, not knowing what to do. She doesn't want to go out there, but she can't hide out in Edward's room. She has to pretend as though she hasn't heard anything.

Bella doesn't know how much Irina knows about her history with Edward, but something in her wants to prove that she's not a horrible person.

Bella slowly walks out of the bedroom, and Irina and Edward's voices have lowered into whispers.

When Bella steps into the kitchen, she witnesses the two having an intense stare down. Edward is rigid, his hands clenched into fists, and Irina has her arms crossed stubbornly.

Bella notices immediately how pretty Irina is. Her platinum blond hair is straight and silky, falling down her back, and her gray eyes are wide and, even in their anger, stunning.

Irina's head snaps towards Bella and her face goes blank. Her fiery eyes give Bella the onceover, and Bella tries not to squirm under her gaze. Irina raises her brows at Edward's clothing on Bella and then turns her gaze back to Edward.

"Nice," she states, though the word is drenched in sarcasm.

"Irina," Edward warns. He gives her a look before walking over to Bella. "You look better. Do you feel okay?"

Bella nods, unable to take her eyes off the new person in the room. Irina's sharp eyes flit between the two of them before landing on Bella. For the briefest of seconds, Bella can see hate in her eyes. No one has ever looked at her like that.

"You should go," Edward says, and Bella looks at him in surprise. However, his eyes are on Irina.

"Call me when you're thinking clearly," Irina tells him. She doesn't spare Bella another glance before walking out the door.

"So, how much did you hear?" Edward asks immediately, and Bella looks at him, ready to lie. However, she knows there's no point in denying anything. He can read her easily.

"The worst part, I guess," Bella says. She crosses her arms over her stomach and looks down.

"Don't." Edward takes her arms and unfolds them. "You always do that when you feel insecure. Don't let her make you feel like that."

"How much does she know?" Bella asks hesitantly. "About us?"

Edward looks away, still holding onto her arms. His hands slide from her elbows to her wrists, and he holds them. She can almost feel the heat of his touch through the thick cotton of the sweatshirt, and she wonders how he can manage to touch her so easily.

"She knows most of it," Edward says. "She and Eleazar were the first people I met when I started college, and they were curious as to why I was so… reclusive. Over time, they got the story out of me…" He opens his mouth to say more, but hesitates. "Unfortunately, I painted a slightly… darker picture of our relationship. That's the image Irina has of you. I'm sorry."

Bella feels the hurt stab through her. Edward made her sound like a bad person?

Edward lifts her chin, green pools of regret staring back at her. "I really am sorry. I was still… recovering. They helped me. I'm stronger because of them."

Bella nods, envy adding to the hurt. While Edward had friends to help him through the pain, she had no one. She had no new friends, no one to turn to. All she had were the painful memories and the regret, intensified bythe agony of his sudden departure. She had to grow on her own, force herself to move on, while he had help.

Perhaps that was her punishment.

She wants to ask about his history with Irina, but she knows it's none of her business. Still, he can see the question in her eyes.

"What?" he asks. He's holding her hands now, and suddenly his grip feels too restraining.

Bella gently lets go of his hands and folds her arms over her stomach again. "Were you and Irina…" She trails off, hoping he'll get the gist of her question.

Edward blinks at her, a look of discomfort crossing his face. "I wasn't aware that it mattered."

Another stab of hurt and jealousy pulses through her, and she hates that such information affects her this way. She wasn't in his life at that point. It shouldn't matter.

Still, she can't deny that it hurts to think about Edward finding comfort in another girl, especially considering she had been the reason behind his pain.

Edward sighs in frustration before sitting down on the arm of the couch, facing her. "Bella. It's irrelevant. It's in the past; I'd prefer we kept it there."

"It's not irrelevant." The hurt feelings begin to manifest themselves. She knows she's adding to the sudden tension between them, but she can't help it. "It's not, Edward. I'd been all alone after that day, and you'd had your friends and distractions… "

"So, what?" Edward asks confusedly. "You're hurt because I didn't have it as hard as you?" His discomfort is palpable, and Bella can feel it adding to hers. She suddenly regrets being so honest.

"It's not that," she argues, but it's exactly that.

"Then what is it?" he asks. "Because without them, I can think of several situations in which the possibility of getting over you was slim to none. I may not have provided you with excruciating details, but trust me, Bella… I needed Eleazar and Irina. More than I'd ever care to admit."

His brows are furrowed in desolation and he can't look at her. He directs his gaze towards Molly, who sits contentedly licking her paw.

"Irina and I had something," he adds after a moment. "It's not as big of a deal as you're undoubtedly making it in your head, but…"

Bella shakes her head, feeling guilty. "You don't have to justify it."

Edward looks at her again, and his eyes burn with so much emotion that her breathing hitches. "Then don't make me feel like I do." She's never seen him this serious. He suddenly looks several years older than he is, aged and exhausted.

"I was just being honest," Bella says. "I didn't mean to upset you. You never mentioned being with anyone else, so I wondered."

"I never asked you if you'd been with anyone after Cheney, either," Edward says with a shrug that's too stuff to be nonchalant. "You never mentioned it, so I didn't think it was relevant to where we are now. Besides…" He trails off, avoiding her gaze again. "I didn't think it was any of my business."

Bella stays quiet, absorbing his words with a new twinge of guilt. Maybe it isn't any of her business if he was with Irina. All that matters is that he isn't anymore. It shouldn't matter to her as much as it does, and she hates that it does.

She hates that it makes her feel so insecure and that it makes her dislike Irina and that it makes her envy Edward for the life he had without her, despite the fact that he's already admitted to not having it easy.

She doesn't notice Edward staring at her, watching as the different emotions flash across her face. However, the twitch of her eyebrows and the smallest of frowns is no match to what she's feeling on the inside.

All of those feelings, all that envy and shame and guilt and insecurity mixes together into a tornado of emotion, growing larger and stronger the more she thinks about it. Her emotions are reaching a crescendo, all the deafening thoughts in her head beginning to overwhelm her.

Edward shakes his head, staring at her in bafflement. "Why are you still thinking about it? Why are you taking this so personally?"

She can't stand the way he looks at her.

He looks at her like she's a frustrating puzzle he can't solve, a puzzle that's so complicated that he doesn't even want to bother anymore. It's like he's seconds away from tossing it in the trash, seconds away from giving up.

Bella hates that she's caused that expression, and his questions ring through her head like the world's loudest bell.

Why are you still thinking about it?

Why are you taking this so personally?

Why?

Why?

She desperately wants him to understand…

… so she snaps.

"BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, OKAY?"

She practically screams the words, shouts them at him like an accusation, verbally slapping him across the face and stunning him into silence.

Immediately, Bella clamps a hand over her mouth. This is not how it was supposed to be said, not even close to how she imagined. Not like this. Not when they're arguing.

Edward stares at her like he did that day in the library: the first time after three years, the first time after so much anguish and guilt and regret.

His brows furrow, his lips part, and he blinks at her. Bella can do nothing but stare back at him as her confession hangs in the air. The possible consequences of what she's just said begin to eat away at her. Her words are either going to ruin everything or make things just as she's always wanted them to be.

They stare at each other for what feels like the longest time. Eons, maybe. Edward swallows and Bella's watches worriedly, her mind struggling to find the right words. Something. Anything would be better than this deafening silence.

Edward is the first to move.

Without moving from his spot on the arm of the couch, he slowly reaches out and clutches a fistful of Bella's sweatshirt, tugging her towards him. Bella stumbles as he pulls her, and suddenly her cheek is warm from how he cups it in his hand.

With the agonized expression of a deeply broken man, he kisses her.

Slowly and softly, he kisses her like her lips could wither at his touch. Bella inhales deeply, taking his warm breath with her, and feels him awaken her soul. He leads her away from the fog of a deep sleep and ignites her body, the warmth spreading from her mouth to the tips of her toes.

Bella holds onto him for dear life, her fumbling fingers grasping at first his sleeves, then his broad shoulders before winding their way into his hair.

She deepens the kiss, tears springing to her eyes at how it makes her feel, how he makes her feel. She's melted in his arms and she doesn't ever want to move from this spot, from this position, from the warm, floating feeling she gets when he kisses her like this.

Edward pulls away first, panting, resting his forehead against hers. His lips glisten, as do hers, and the taste of him is strong on her tongue.

Edward's hand is on the back of her neck, his arm around her waist, holding her tightly to him.

She's tasted love in his kiss.

He doesn't have to say the words back; he's shown her, and she can see it so visibly in the warmth of his eyes.

Bella swallows and kisses him again, because he is a drug she can't stop taking. They breathe each other in again and she holds him tighter, but he's not close enough. He's never close enough.

Her fingers tighten in his hair, clutching them painfully, and Edward groans, pulling her impossibly closer. His fingers slip under the back of her sweatshirt, his skin meeting the bare skin of her back, and his touch is cold on her overheated skin.

Bella is pressed in between his legs, and she is strongly aware of this. Edward's thighs hold her legs in place, because it's as though he knows she's having trouble standing up. Her lips move furiously against his, and she can't remember ever kissing anyone like this.

She can't remember anything at all. All she knows is that she wants him. She wants him in ways she's ignored for so, so long. Kissing him like this isn't quenching her thirst for him. It's not sating this need deep down inside of her, not extinguishing this flame that began to burn the second he kissed her.

Edward pulls back again, inhaling sharply before choking out a laugh. "So much for going slow, huh?"

Bella laughs, breathing heavily with tears springing to her eyes. Embarrassed, she buries her face in his neck. She could never adequately express how she feels in this moment.

She could burst with joy and relief, because all it took was a kiss, a real kiss to mend her. Not the drunken mess of the night before, or the passionate yet poorly timed kiss of their high school years.

"That's all in the past," Edward suddenly mumbles. His voice is rough. "I'd really like it to stay there, along with everything else." He doesn't need to elaborate on what "everything else" is.

They hold each other for a while, holding on to the moment, too.

Because this moment, regardless of how temporary it is, has momentarily fixed everything that felt broken.

A/N: Shouty caps FTW! Do they get the point across, or what? :)

I added some visuals for the story on my profile. Go click things if you want. I will probably be adding more along the way.

Prelude to a Kiss (how cute is that?) is a pink-toned beige by ORLY. I'm adding it my list of "OMG, Nim, You Are Too Broke To Spend Eight Bucks On This".

See you next time!

xo