A/N: Thanks for the well-wishes. I'm still sick, but no longer feel like walking death, so I guess that's an improvement.
Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I own a box of Puffs Plus with Lotion.
28
Her smile is so pretty I have to kiss it. The motion of our mouths is idle this time, though, and before long, we're lying side by side again. I stroke her hair and contemplate.
Contemplate the idea of what 'some guys' have done while they've been touching her.
I swallow hard and play with her fingertips. "In the interest of fairness… Have you done a lot of…that kind of thing before?"
"Ugh." It's her turn to act uncomfortable as she rolls over to her back. "Define a lot?"
"Well, you've, um…" My throat gets tight. "You've had sex before?"
She nods, and it makes something in my chest feel uncomfortable. Then again, she's so beautiful. So nice and smart and easy to talk to. Guys must have been tripping over themselves to ask her out, back before the situation with her dad when she got so withdrawn.
"Yeah," she says after a minute. "Not much, though. Just two guys. One my freshman year of college." She meets my eyes for a second, grimacing. "Big mistake."
"Uh-oh."
"Yeah. Jerk didn't tell me 'til after he popped my cherry that he had a girlfriend."
"Ouch."
"Pretty much." She glances away, seeming to make a conscious effort to keep her expression neutral. "I'd had a couple steady boyfriends back in high school, and we'd fooled around a little, but it was always exclusive, you know? So I got to college expecting the same thing and then, bam. Illusion dispelled."
"I'm so sorry, Bella." I tentatively brush her knuckles with my fingertips. The idea that someone used her that way, took something like that away from her…
For the first time, I'm glad I waited.
I'm glad I get to give it to her.
If she wants it.
She flips her hand over and clasps it with mine. "Thanks. But it's fine. Now. Oddly enough, I didn't trust guys after that, so I didn't date much. When I did, I didn't go all the way. Not until I was a senior. I dated this guy, Jake, for almost the whole year. And we, um, slept together. I really liked him." She turns her head to face me. "But then I got into grad school out here, and he got a job somewhere else. We were going to try the long distance thing, but when everything happened with my dad… Jake didn't get why I couldn't come out to see him at all. Or why I didn't have time to talk on the phone every day. He got really mad and said I wasn't serious about our relationship. Even accused me of cheating on him and demanded I switch schools and move closer to him." She scoffs, but it's bitter. So bitter.
The tumblers in my mind fall into place. All the things she said about not knowing how much she could give me. Every time she asked if I really wanted this.
"That's terrible."
"Yeah. Anyway, obviously we didn't last long after that. It's probably just as well. We wanted different things anyway. I don't think he ever really took me planning to be a professor very seriously. When he told me to quit school, it just cemented things for me. This is what I've been working toward all my life, you know?"
"I do." I really, really, do. It's what I've always wanted, too. Just another way we're so well-suited for each other.
And yet I can't shake the niggling bit of insecurity. I pull my fingers away from hers and stroke them over her palm. "Did you love him?"
I hate the way my voice shakes.
"Yeah," she answers slowly. "I did. At the beginning, anyway. But by the end, he was basically a nuisance." She pauses, and waits until I meet her gaze. "And I most certainly don't have any lingering feelings for him now."
"No?"
She shakes her head. "Definitely not. I only have eyes for one guy."
"Oh really?"
"Yup."
Her fingers thread through my hair and urge me closer.
When my lips are a hair's breadth from hers, I murmur, "Lucky bastard."
Before she kisses me, she grins. "Not nearly as lucky as I am."
#
We stay up talking for the longest time, moving on from the heavy relationship talk to lighter stuff. Every now and then, I catch a flash of skin or brush my bare leg against hers. And I can't believe we're talking like this – like best friends – while almost naked in my bed.
Finally, she yawns for the fourth or fifth time in a row, and I realize my eyes are drooping, too.
"We should probably go to sleep, huh?"
She nods while stifling another yawn. "I'm beat. But I don't want this to end."
I cup her cheek. "It doesn't have to. Not really."
"I know. But this whole night has just been so nice."
"It has." With one last peck against her lips, I rise to sit on the edge of the bed. I look back at her for just a second. "You really sure you want to sleep over?"
"You kicking me out?"
"Hell, no. I just don't want you to think you don't have an option."
She chuckles and shakes her head at me. "I really want to stay."
"Cool."
"Think I could borrow a T-shirt or something to sleep in?"
"Sure."
I pad over to my dresser to pull out one of my tighter undershirts and toss it to her. She reaches out to grab it and sits up. "Thanks."
And then she takes off her bra.
I have to catch myself on the dresser to keep from falling over. I don't know what I expected – maybe that she'd go to the bathroom to change or wait for me to leave the room or something. But not this. Definitely not this.
"Jesus, Bella."
Her breasts are perfect, round and smooth with the softest, rosy-pink nipples. They're neither huge nor small. Just…perfect.
She has the shirt half-way over her head when her eyes widen and she looks at me. Scrambling to pull the hem of the shirt down over her breasts, she apologizes. "I'm sorry, I didn't even think—"
"Bella. Do not even think about apologizing." I'm tenting my underwear obscenely. But considering she's seen me without them now… "I am completely okay. In fact, feel free to do…" I gesture vaguely at her chest. "…that basically anytime you want."
She laughs and fluffs her hair out, tugging it out of the back of the shirt. "I'll keep that in mind. Any chance I could borrow a toothbrush, too?"
"No," I say, heading toward the bathroom. Over my shoulder, I call, "But you can have one."
One that she can use the next time she sleeps over. And the next time and the next time.
As I dig through my bathroom cupboard looking for a fresh one, I remind myself that she won't be sleeping over that often. After all, we just had this big, serious conversation about all the stuff she has to do. But at the same time, I don't doubt that someday she will.
We both clean up and then meet again in my bed. She settles into what at this point I guess is her side. I take my glasses off and put them on my nightstand, before reaching to turn off the bedside lamp. In the darkness, I roll toward her, gathering her up inside the circle of my arms. She shuffles herself back until we're flush, then cranes her neck for a goodnight peck. Turning back to face away from me, she hums contentedly.
"Goodnight, Edward."
"Goodnight, Bella."
Even as I fall asleep, I'm still smiling.
