A/N: I understand that lemons aren't everyone's thing. Because of that, this is a warning to let you know there's one ahead.

Happy reading!

22. False Alarm

I'm dancing in flames
I'm dancing in flames
I ain't scared of the blaze
Don't rescue me
And now I'm burning in your arms
Endless fire in my heart
No, it's not a false alarm
No, it's not a false alarm

- False Alarm, Matoma ft. Becky Hill

As the next few months come and go, life becomes a steady stream of school, work, and studying for finals. The stress of having to remember a semester full of knowledge is eating at all of us. On more than one occasion, I find myself asleep on my Latin textbook where I've been holed up at my desk studying. That final's the only one that I'm worried about.

I'm also worried about Rose. Over spring break, her parents finally decided that they've had enough and told their daughters that they're getting divorced. Kate's taken to acting like it doesn't affect her at all, and that life's normal. I guess that's what she has to do to cope. Rose on the other hand, isn't coping with it. She's really become a shell of herself and physically looks like she's wasting away from the stress that she's under at home. She has permanent dark circles under her eyes and her grades have slipped nearly to the point that she's almost not passing. If she doesn't do well on her finals, she more than likely won't.

Rose has also been spending more time with Royce than our group. They barely sit with us at lunch, choosing to sit with his friends instead. She's vulnerable, and he's definitely taking advantage of that. More often than not, when I call over to the Hale household, her mother, who sound like she's barely holding it together herself, will tell me that she's out with Royce. Rose has never been much of an alcohol drinker, but has taken to the pass time quite aggressively, with the encouragement of her boyfriend. He's also taken the pleasure of introducing her to weed. She's looking for an escape, and he's more than happy to provide her with one.

On more than one occasion, we've all tried to talk to her, but she just denies everything, saying that she doesn't need any help and that none of us understood what she's going through.

Edward's parents haven't invited me over for dinner again, not that I'm complaining. I'm still traumatized from the last time. In fact, they've been so busy, I haven't seen them at all. Esme's working on a new client's home, and anytime that I do happen to see her, is when she's walking, rather quickly, out of their home, cell phone glued to her ear. Carlisle and my parents are busy with all the plans for the new restaurant that they're opening in Greensboro.

Since the night of the fateful dinner, Edward and I haven't talked about the college thing again. He's right, it was over a year away and there were no guarantees for admission. Although, there were some nights when I couldn't sleep that I did find myself thinking about it.

I sigh as I think about all of this from where I'm sitting on the couch in Edward's living room, my Biology notebook open on my lap, because I'm supposed to be studying for my final tomorrow, but my mind keeps wandering.

"What're you thinking about?" His voice is right in my ear, his forehead bumping into the side of mine. He's studying about as well as I am. His AP Calculus textbook is sitting open on the coffee table in front of him, the numbers and equations scaring me all the way over here.

I sigh again, goosebumps rising on my arms as he moves my hair over my shoulder, so he can place a kiss below my ear. "That if you don't stop inhibiting my studying, I'm going to fail this class." My voice sounds breathy and like it's coming from a completely different person, because the last thing that I want him to do is stop.

He places another kiss there, causing me to suck in a breath. "You have an A in the class. Even if you bomb the final, you'll still pass."

"You're a very bad influence."

He smiles at what I say, leaning into kiss me. I give in just like he thought that I would, because I have no will power when it comes to him. He runs his tongue along the seam of my lips and let him in willingly.

The idea of French kissing used to disgust me. Especially after the whole Jacob dead fish incident. I've heard my girlfriends talking about it and how great it was, and I always brushed it off. Another person's tongue in my mouth didn't appeal to me, until Edward. I don't know if he actually knows what he's doing or not, but it's amazing regardless.

We kiss until I'm breathless and light-headed, and I find myself straddled across his lap. When his hand finds its way underneath my t-shirt, all I can think is: please touch my boob… please touch my boob.

The furthest that we've ever gotten has touching each other over clothes, which leaves me wanting more and going home frustrated. I'm not ready to have sex, but I want something more. Like his hand that is so, so close to touching my boob under my shirt, his hand against my ribcage feels hot and heavy, and I can't take it anymore.

"Just touch my boob already!" It takes a second for me to realize that I say this out loud. I can imagine that my expression is comical, like a deer caught in headlights, my face burning at my outburst. And that it might have been quite rude of me to say that. I blame it on my sex-starved hormones. That works, right?

His chest shakes beneath me, and I'm oh so happy that he is so amused. "And I'm the bad influence."

I groan, my hands covering my very red face. He's not having that, and he removes my hands, only to replace them with his as he cups my face gently in his hands. I can tell that he is still highly amused with me by the slight smirk of his lips, and he's looking at me with those soft eyes of his that always make me feel like he can see right through me and turn my insides to goo. I wonder if I make him feel the same way as he makes me feel with just look. If his insides feel like goo and his legs turn to Jell-O.

"I love you." The way he says it is so light and care-free.

"Especially when I make an ass of myself." I gripe with a roll of my eyes at my own stupidity.

"I love that you can't keep your cool. That was one of the first things that attracted me to you." He lets out a half-laugh. "Like that day you slammed the door in my face when you were wearing those adorable Hello Kitty pajamas."

"Oh my God!" I groan, "You remember that?" I've denied that day's existence for so long, that I almost forgot that it ever happened. Almost.

"Yes, I do. You've always been an open book, even when you think that you're not. Like when you're nervous, you ramble and say exactly what's on your mind."

"I hate that!"

"It's just part of what I love about you." He brushes some hair behind my ear. "I think that you're pretty amazing, Isabella Swan."

"I think that you're pretty amazing, too, Edward Cullen."

After out gushy exchanges of amazingness that would make anyone that witnessed it barf, we kiss.

It starts out slow and quickly becomes heated. His hands are once again underneath my shirt, lifting it as they ascend, and the garment finds its way over my head. Okay, I rip off myself. I sigh internally, or… you know… not so internally, when his hands cup my breasts, his thumbs running across my nipples through the thin material of my bra. My own hands go to his shirt and I start to inch it his torso and the offending garment finds its way on the floor to mingle with my own.

His arm wraps around my waist as he shifts us to lie on the couch. Me on my back, him half on me, half on the couch. This is furthest we've ever gone, but I'm too far gone to care at the moment. The spell is broken when I feel his hands start to go toward my jeans and I tense, causing him to freeze.

It suddenly occurs to me as I lie on the couch beneath him, that he's about to see me in my virginal white cotton Hanes underwear. Which it's sexy in the slightest. Thongs. Guys think those are sexy, right? Why don't I have any? Oh, right, because I bought one once and thought that it was the equivalent of butt floss and threw it away.

"What is it? Am I going to fast?" he looks at me concerned that he's crossed a line that I'm not ready for.

I want him to touch me. God, do I want him to touch me. I just don't want him to see exactly what I'm wearing under my jeans. I don't know why my choice in undergarments such a big thing for me is, but it is. Maybe it's my insecurities. Maybe it's because he has experience and I don't. Or, maybe it's a mixture of both.

"What if you don't find me sexy?" I can't look at him when I say this. I can't help the flash of Tanya's model-like body that pops into my head and vanishes just as quickly.

"There's no way that would happen." His words hold such conviction, that I can't help but believe him. "We don't have to do anything that you don't want to do, Bella."

The way he's looking at me gives me that fluttery feeling in my stomach. I knew before he said anything that he would never pressure me into anything. If I told him right now that I want to stop, he will. But I don't want to stop.

I meld my lips to his, my fingers once again tangle themselves in his hair.

After a few seconds, I pull back, looking into his eyes. "I want you touch me." At this very moment, it doesn't matter that we're both still half-dressed and that I still have my bra on, or that my underwear is the least sexiest thing since the invention of a chastity belt, or that the couch is cramped with both of us laying on it. The only thing that I can focus on is that if he doesn't touch me, I'm going to explode.

Goddammit, I'm just going to say it! I want a fucking orgasm!

My heart's hammering, and my entire body is shaking, and I'm not sure what to do next. For an immeasurable amount of time, we lay there with our lips and tongues moving in sync. After a while, I start to think that maybe he's decided that he's not ready to take that step. That maybe I freaked him out.

My train of thought derails when I feel the hand that found its way into my hair, brush passed my still bra covered breast and continue southward. I'm both elated and terrified. I want this, I want him. I'm just a little embarrassed for him to feel exactly how much I want it.

When his hand gets to the top of my jeans, he pulls back from my lips just enough to look in my eyes. He's making sure that I still want him to continue, that I haven't changed my mind. With a nod of my head, the button and zipper of my jeans come undone. Our lips find the other's again as his hand ventures underneath the waistband of my underwear. My hands go to the back of his head, crushing his lips harder against mine as his hand ventures further down my mound, coming in contact with where I'm aching and wet for him. A moan escapes him, the sound goes through me like electricity, right to where his hand is.

The anticipation for what's going to happen next is excruciating. He's right there, but his hand's not moving. Our lips have slowed as well, barely brushing together, like we're both unsure of what's to come next. A gasp escapes me as his fingers brush my clit, finally. His lips are once again moving across my skin, peppering my jaw and neck with kisses as his fingers continue to rub slow circles across my clit. A loud moan escapes me as one of his fingers makes its way inside me.

The sounds coming from me are anything but sexy, in fact I think that I sound like a seal or a walrus. Not exactly the sexiest thing. But, going by the bulge in Edward's pants, he's finding it more than a little sexy.

I moan louder and louder as I get closer to the edge, Edward's fingers increasing in speed, the pleasure mounting until it's almost too much. The coil that's been tightening in my abdomen finally breaks loose as a warm wave washes over me. I bite my lip, a whimper escaping me as my orgasm rushes through me.

I knew that it would feel good, but I didn't expect anything like this. My body feels boneless as I lay here, catching my breath, blinking slowly as I look up at the ceiling.

My eyes find Edward's again, his own hooded and smoldering as they burn into mine.

"I love you," he groans out, crushing his lips against mine. His body comes to rest between my spread legs. My breath hitches as his erection meets my center, causing a shot of pleasure to go through me at the friction. We both moan at the contact.

I don't know what I'm doing, my body's just moving of its own accord. My leg finds its way around his hip as our bodies rub against the other's. His moans and grunts spurring me on.

The pleasure is starting to build again, the coil tightening, but before it can become a wave, he's coming. His body tenses on top of mine, his face burring itself in the cushion next to me, letting a guttural groan; his hips pump disjointedly against me a few more times before he stills, his entire weight crushing me further into the couch.

As we lay there panting, I can't believe that we just... did that on the couch in his living room. In front of a set of sliding glass doors that open into their back yard, with the golf course beyond. Anyone playing a game of afternoon golf could have seen us, not to mention that his parents could've potentially walked in on us at any moment. As all these things start to circle in my head, I can't help but laugh hysterically.

"What is it?" Edward lifts himself up to look at me, probably wondering where my sanity has gone.

"We just did that with the blinds open. We probably gave a fifty-year-old golfer quite the show."

"At least he won't have to go home and watch his porn tonight." His comment only makes me laugh harder. Realizing the time, we make ourselves respectable, so his mom won't catch us in a compromising position.

That night, I'm at my desk again, actually studying the Biology that I should've been earlier. I have my phone open to the group chat with the girls, watching their texts about how much they think finals such and how they think it's just something that the school officials do to torture teenagers for fun. I'm about to send my own message, when my mom comes in.

"Hey," my mom says, coming in and closing the door behind her, a bag in her hand. "Can we talk for a minute?" I love how parents ask if we can talk, when it's really not up for debate.

I put my pencil down, more than ready for a break, but also feeling apprehensive as to what exactly my mom wants to talk to me about. "Sure."

"You and Edward seem to be getting pretty serious." She takes a seat on my bed, and I can feel all the blood drain from my face.

Oh, God. It's that talk. Wasn't once bad enough?

Mom sat me down when I was thirteen to tell me all about the birds and the bees, and how to go about it safely. It had been a very detailed discussion that left thirteen-year-old me never wanting to think about boys, much less their penis.

"I guess." I shrug, no longer cool with her being in my room.

"I just wanted to make sure that you're being safe," she picks up the bag that she placed on the bed beside her, taking out a box of condoms.

"Nothing like that is going on," I stutter at the memory of exactly what we did on his couch earlier in the afternoon, feeling my face turn tomato red. Also, seeing my mom holding a box of condoms is weird and gross on so many levels. It has me thinking about things that I like to pretend don't happen.

"I know what it is like to be young and in love. Heck, your dad and I got married when we were eighteen." She mercifully sets the box back down on the bed. "You may not be doing anything now, but it's coming."

My face flames again.

"While, it would thrill me to no end if you waited, I'm also a realist. If you want, I can make an appointment with my gynecologist and get on the pill. If you're going to be doing something, I want you to be extra safe," she gestures to the condoms. "Protection is just as much a responsibility for the girl, as it is for the guy. Would you like me to make the appointment?"

I simply nod, unable to look my mom in the eye.

"Okay," she stands, "I'll see if she can get you in this week."

She leaves, but a second later her head pops back in. "You might want to put those someplace where your dad can't find them. Don't want him to have a heart attack."

As if it were possible, I blush an even brighter shade of red than I already am.

As soon as finals are over, and the day after school ends, my things are packed in the car for the drive to Greensboro. Edward comes over to see me off and I feel a slight hesitation as I get into the backseat. And I have to remind myself that when I get back from camp, the rest of the summer will be ours.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm completely re-writing the next chapter, so it probably won't go up until this weekend.