Hey, guys! Back for another update. Thanks so much for all of the comments. I love hearing what you guys think of this story and honestly, it totally makes me want to write and edit faster and faster. I can't wait until spring break because then I'll have tons of time to update all of my other stories. It feels soooooooooo good to be back. I wanted to update a lot over the past few months but with school … well, I didn't want to mess anything up. As you guys probably know, I had to take a break from college because I was honestly too depressed to keep going or be motivated to do absolutely anything. Fanfic really helped me. It got me back on track and gave me a lot of direction. It may sound kind of pathetic, but I don't know where I would be without it. It's made me want to really get my life together and work so much harder. Whenever I have a free second, I always want to update now. I've just missed this fandom so much! Anyway, enjoy the chapter and please let me know what you think. Hopefully I cleared up any errors this time.

13

There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

Nervous energy ran through my veins, causing even a miniscule task to become seemingly impossible. How can I concentrate on anything when Edward was going to be here in a few short hours? I couldn't remember the last time I felt so excited—so bubbly. I was sure Alice wouldn't recognize me if she saw me; she would wonder where her meek sister went. With jittery limbs, a hammering heart, and a flush coloring my pale skin, I felt like a teenager.

I looked up from my makeup palate to peer at my reflection in the mirror. With glowing skin and bright eyes, I looked like a different woman. I smiled, biting down on my bottom lip to contain the happiness swelling inside of my chest. Despite myself, I giggled, and the nervous energy escaped me. Dipping my brush back into what was left of my favorite shade of shadow, I continued to get ready.

After I had left Edward's side this morning and returned to my apartment, I had tried to sketch while I saw Charlie's smiling face clear in my mind; my imagination had conjured up different adventures for him to go on as my pencil had moved across the page in front of me. However, the work had quickly become useless. I had spent most of my time with my pencil hovering over the page as I thought of my muse's uncle instead. Before I had understood what it was I was doing, I had abandoned the project and moved to sketch images of Edward.

They were a jumbled mess of frantic lines—my graphite pencil smeared across the vanilla page. Despite the streaked, hazy mess, the image still resembled him; especially around the eyes, which had been dark, soulful, and unmistakably Edward's.

I had studied the image, feeling as if he were truly watching me for a moment, before I had tucked it away under my mattress for safekeeping. How embarrassing would it be if Edward knew I was sketching pictures of him like some lovesick teenager in homeroom?

With the memory of his eyes in my mind, I finished getting ready, knowing he would be knocking on my door any second. I set the eyeshadow palate down and grabbed my favorite pale pink shade of lipstick to apply. While I had never been skilled at applying makeup—only wearing it on the few occasions I left the house to go someplace nice—I managed to pull it together for tonight; it was all thanks to Alice's guidance over the years combined with a plethora of online tutorials.

With a somewhat shaky hand, I applied the shade to my lips before blotting with a piece of tissue. I pulled it away from my lips and stared down at the imprint of lipstick on the Kleenex before peering up at my reflection. This is as good as it's going to get, Isabella. With my curly hair tamed, running freely down my back, and my face made up without seeming overdone, I supposed I looked beautiful. Beautiful. I never understood why anyone called me that. Next to my sister, I had never felt beautiful. However, Edward had a way about him; around him, I felt gorgeous. I felt like I had always been gorgeous.

Standing up, I ran a hand over my light green, fit and flare dress, smoothing out the fabric before I adjusted my denim jacket. I wonder if Edward will like this. Am I too underdressed? Edward wanted to surprise me and forwent telling me anything about our plans for tonight. Despite my dislike for surprises, I didn't mind; although, now, I was worried sick my outfit would stick out like a sore thumb.

A loud knock sounded on the door and quickly pulled me away from my thoughts. I laughed at myself, embarrassed by how nervous I was already. I gave myself one last appraising look before I turned to answer the door. I can't believe he's here! I can't believe this is really happening! Before I yanked my front door open, I took a moment to rein in my emotions, not wanting to embarrass myself. He would laugh if he saw how animated I was. I had to play it cool. I had to at least pretend I wasn't bouncing with excitement.

You've got this, Isabella. Just play it cool and don't embarrass yourself in front of him too much.

I swung the front door open as quickly as tearing off a bandage, revealing him in all of his sinfully handsome glory. I nearly swooned at the sight of him. With a dress shirt rolled up to reveal his slew of tattoos on his forearms, I found it impossible to look away. I wanted nothing more than to lean forward and kiss every single piece of ink. My eyelids fluttered as I came back to reality, realizing I had been staring at him for far too long.

"Is this all right for where we're going?" I questioned, breaking the silence.

"It's perfect," he said, his eyes darkened, and his breath hitched, taking in my appearance. My eyes were glued to him, fixated on the movement of his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip. His brows knitted together, and his concentration caused me to blush. "You ready to get going?" he asked, sliding his hands into the front pockets of his jeans while rocking back on his feet.

I wonder if he's as nervous as I am?

Answering with a quick nod, I turned on my heel and grabbed my purse. My pulse was erratic, and my skin was completely flushed. Thankfully, Edward seemed too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice. I wanted to present myself as calm and collected, but that was seemingly impossible around Edward. He looked at me, and I melted. When he was near, my panties were always damp. So embarrassing.

My blush deepened, and I turned to find Edward's tongue darting out to trace his bottom lip again, making it impossible to ignore the subtle pulsing between my legs. I wondered if he felt my desire—felt my need for him—as his gaze dropped to my breasts. My fingers twitched while I imagined slipping my hand into my panties, working myself over until I fell to pieces in front of him.

My fingers twitched with desire, but I stifled it, taking ahold of his hand, my body acting on its own accord. His palm was warm against mine, and with a squeeze of his hand, he pulled me out of my apartment. With my free hand, I locked up, smiling as my body tingled with energy. I felt his eyes trace the lines of my frame, and when I turned to him, he rewarded me with a heated look before leading me down the hall.

"I've been thinking about you all day," I commented before my anxiousness could prevent me.

What happened to playing it cool, Isabella?

"I did manage to get a lot done today though," I lied, not wanting him to know he constantly clouded my thoughts. "I guess I was really well rested after last night." I nearly cringed at my attempt at flirting.

I felt his body tense and his grip on my hand tighten. "Same here," he responded, his voice heavy. He was silent for a moment, and just as I was going to ask what was on his mind, he relaxed and posed the question. "Maybe we can do it again?"

I suppressed a smile, not wanting to appear too eager. My imagination ran wild as I considered what it would be like to go to bed with him by my side each and every night. His hands on my curves … on my breasts … between my legs … his warm body flush against mine. His scent mixing with my own, creating a smell that's uniquely ours.

"We can sleep together whenever you want, Edward," I quipped with innuendo swimming in my tone.

The cool night air hit my face as soon as we opened the doors leading to the parking lot. I inhaled the crisp scent of the late summer night as Edward's body tightened at my side, obviously reacting to my previous statement. My panties dampened further at the idea of him restraining himself. Wanting me as desperately as I want him.

"You shouldn't say that to me," he bit out as we reached his truck.

Turning to him, I gazed at his tense muscles; each muscle of his torso was taut through the fabric of his shirt. Even in the night, I clearly saw the tension coursing through his frame. He opened the passenger door for me and paused for a moment, letting go of my hand before allowing his fingers to curl tightly around the steel of the door's frame.

"It's going to give me certain ideas, and I'm trying my best to do things the right way."

I slid into the passenger seat, unsure of what to say. I knew he didn't desire to push me—he didn't want the physical side of our relationship to progress until I was ready for it. I couldn't describe how thankful I was for that. He didn't know my past, but I hoped one day I could tell him. One day, my story would unravel, and I would thank him for being so patient with me, never pushing me further than I wanted to go.

As Edward slid into the driver's seat, I turned to look at him, taking in his harsh expression. Despite appearances, I knew he was always a softie—more so than he ever cared to admit. He was like a Tootsie Roll Pop: hard on the outside with a soft core. I smiled at the comparison, relaxing against my seat. I almost laughed at the idea of telling him that. I was sure he would blanch at my juxtaposition. But he was soft. Soft, warm, and all mine.

"I know you are," I finally responded, giving him a thoughtful smile. "Edward, I really appreciate it."

He smiled, too, before putting the key into the ignition and bringing the monster of a truck to life. Music filtered through the truck as the radio blared a band I'd never heard of. The lead singer's voice drowned out the booming sound of the truck's engine, captivating me. Edward gave me a nervous, calculating look, as if he were trying to decipher whether I enjoyed his taste in music. He pulled out of the parking spot before putting the truck into drive. With another look in my direction, his hand moved to the dial to change the song.

"It's fine," I said, waving his hand away. "I'm curious what sort of music you listen to."

Although he still seemed unsure, he carefully moved his hand away, placing it back on the steering wheel. As we drove, I melted against the seat and listened to the bands on Edward's playlist. There was something so intimate about listening to the music someone liked. It was as if you were peering into their soul.

While listening, I imagined how each song related to Edward. Closing my eyes, I considered what each song meant to him. Every song meant something to someone, even if the meaning was shallow. There was a reason we gravitated toward certain things and distanced ourselves from others. Apparently, Edward and I gravitated toward the same things because our taste in music was similar. Classic rock, dark cabaret, progressive rock, and metal, there wasn't a single thing Edward liked that I had a problem with. Most of the playlist consisted of stuff I had been familiar with, except one: A progressive band I had never heard of.

"What band is this?" I asked, peering over at his structured profile.

Edward looked at me, seemingly surprised by my interest. What did he think I liked? Boy bands and pop?

"Coheed and Cambria," he answered while his eyes remained trained on the road ahead.

When he reached a stop light, he peered over at me and gave a smile of approval.

"They're really good."

Reaching forward, I turned up the volume and shot him a grin.

He relaxed in his seat, seeming more confident around me than he ever had. I wanted him to open up to me more; I wanted him to share the parts of him he couldn't share with anyone else. And I wanted to do the same. I desired to reveal the very darkness I always tried to stifle. Can he see the same darkness in me that I see in him? The part of us we lock away. I pushed that thought from my mind and focused my attention on the music and the road ahead. Tonight, I would forget about all of that. Tonight, my mind would only be occupied with Edward, and Edward alone.

We reached the restaurant, and my eyes widened at the sight—shocked this was Edward's choice. Did someone give him advice? Edward doesn't strike me as someone who frequents these types of places. When I looked to him for confirmation, Edward was swelling with pride at my side, seemingly content with his choice. I smiled, knowing how much thought he must have put into this evening. Although, it wouldn't have mattered where he took me; as long as I had been with him, I would have been perfectly blissful. I was sure if I told him that, he would scoff. However, it was true. He was the reason I was here, after all. With a sly smile on his face, he found the perfect parking spot. Seeing him so confident was paradise. I wished he were always this self-assured.

With a satisfied grin, he turned off the truck and swung open his door, stepping out before crossing the front of the truck to open my door for me. Swinging my door open, he proffered his hand, which I happily took. With a proud grin, he guided me toward the restaurant. There was something consuming about him, something that caused me to melt against his side. His piercing gaze, handsome looks, and attractive edge had me wrapped around his finger. I wanted nothing more than to ditch the restaurant and forgo the conversation to feel his body thrusting into mine.

I barely acknowledged the restaurant's impressive décor as we entered—my mind was far too occupied by the man at my side. My lips running along the sharp lines of his jaw. My tongue tracing the outlines of his tattoos. My fingers descending his body until they reach the happy trail leading to where I want to touch him the most. His hard cock in my hands. Milking him and watching his handsome face as he falls apart …

I felt a smile tug on my lips as I came back to the present. I moved along, Edward guiding me toward the table he had reserved for us in the far corner of the restaurant. He was every bit of a gentleman as he pulled out my chair for me and allowed me to take my seat first. No one had ever done this before, which caused me to flush as I sat down. He shot me a confident grin before he took a seat across from mine. His carefree temperament wavered as the hostess set the menus down before parting ways.

Dark, pensive eyes were glued to the wine list while his muscles stiffened. The jugular vein, which I had always dreamed of licking, twitched as he regarded the list with a dejected look coloring his features. Such a taunting piece of paper. While he seemed to try to stifle his emotions, he couldn't hide them from me. The fear on his face was evident. All caused by a sheet of paper. My heart ached for him, wishing I had a way of assuaging his affliction.

In a soft voice, I asked if he was all right. His eyes darted from the paper to meet my gaze; his face was ashen. He looked so exhausted suddenly, like the world had just crashed down around him. He gave me a weak smile, which didn't reach his eyes while his jugular vein twitched again. Reaching across the table, I took his hand in mine, gently squeezing it to remind him I was here and didn't plan on leaving.

"Edward," I said softly, "it's all right if you don't want to order a drink. I don't really drink much, and if you don't either, that's completely okay with me."

He didn't seem too convinced. He squeezed my hand, giving me another tight smile as his eyes tried to avoid the sight of anything tempting. His chest expanded with a deep breath, and he leaned back slightly in his chair before he began, "It's just—"

He immediately stopped, and his dark eyes searched mine. He peered at me as if he were searching for an answer or some sort of sign. Does he not realize I accept him and will always accept him, regardless of whatever taints his past? You can't change the past, so why dwell on it?

"It's just," he slowly continued, "I've had problems with alcohol."

As soon as the words slipped past his lips, his entire body slumped forward in defeat. My brows knitted together as I looked at him, finding his self-confidence long gone. How can he possibly feel defeated? He hasn't given into temptation. He hasn't ordered a drink. Perhaps he felt inferior due to his past problems—problems that could haunt him for the rest of his life. While my eyes searched his face for any clue as to what was going on inside his beautiful mind, I realized my hypothesis was most likely correct. It seemed he did feel inferior. If only he knew how strong he really was.

Squeezing his hand as he tried to withdraw it from mine, I murmured, "I understand. I've watched people struggle with addictions."

My mind flipped through memories of my extended family falling off of the wagon, remembering the pain and darkness the slip had caused.

"I know it's hard," I continued. "Just know that having a problem like that doesn't make you weak—nor does it make me think less of you, Edward. You're overcoming it, and you should be proud of yourself."

He snorted as his free hand shot up to run through his unruly mane. "I don't feel proud of myself," he said quietly, almost to himself.

He looked off toward the bar, his gaze more frustrated than desirous. He squeezed my hand, and as he did, I wished there were something I could do for him. How I wish I could take this weight off of his shoulders. But I couldn't—this was his battle; being supportive was all I could do.

"Well, I'm proud of you."

His jaw clenched as his irritated gaze fizzled into something else. An emotion that I couldn't describe. The warmth in his eyes extinguished the darkness. There's my Edward again. He was lost for a moment but has quickly returned. He may be flawed, but to me, he's perfect.

He was attempting to pick up the pieces of his fractured life; he was trying to make something beautiful out of the mess that surrounded him. I loved him even more for that. Rubbing circles on the back of his hand with my thumb, he held onto me as if I were his lifeline. Perhaps, in a way, this was true. I didn't know if it was right, but I loved that I was able to tether him to some sort of goodness. But of course, he has Charlie for that, too. Images of Charlie clouded my head. Edward and Charlie: the two men I never wanted to let go of. If I were lucky, Edward wouldn't want to let go of me either.

If I'm lucky, this is just the beginning.