Happy Saturday!

Y'all know I appreciate every single one of you, riiiight? K cool. Thank you for reading! Next update will be Tuesday.

*All the heart emojis for Hadley*

I take it kinda easy for the rest of the day, letting my buzz linger into the evening. I drink water instead of beer when everyone else is slamming them back, and we stop for some burgers and fries, which helps soak up some of the booze. It's fun, and Paul's friends are pretty chill. I've also yet to see Paul pull anything sketchy so… I guess he's okay, too.

It's just after nine when we're at our last stop—King's. I can't help myself from scanning the bar, wondering if Edward will show. We find a booth in the back, near the shuffleboard table. The only remaining birthday crew are Jess, Paul, one of his friends, and me. Everyone else has tapped out and called it a night.

I'm tempted to harass "Masen" a little more, but being inebriated makes me a little worried I'll slip up and ruin everything. I reread our conversation from earlier to make sure I didn't say anything to reveal that I know. I don't think anything stands out too much. I mean, I was really fucking snarky, but… that's not necessarily a new development. And he knew I was drinking. Maybe he assumed my sour attitude was due to that.

I'm waiting patiently to close my tab when I hear his voice next to me. The bartender asks him what he wants to drink, and he says he needs a minute.

Then he murmurs my name.

"Bella," he says again when I don't respond the first time.

I wait a few beats to look over at him, hoping it makes him sweat a little. When I turn to find Edward watching me, he looks nervous. He looks like someone who found out earlier today that the person he may or may not be into is done with him. But that's problem number one—he may or may not be into me. He's so back and forth with his feelings. And problem number two is that he's Masen.

I lock eyes with him. He's in a white T-shirt again. It's un-fucking-fair how good-looking he is. He's all furrowed brows, wayward hair. Green eyes so full of concern.

Honestly, if it's a problem he's Masen, then what a problem to have. Deep down I'm relieved it's him. I really am.

I spot a new tattoo peeking out from the collar of his shirt. I can't tell what it is, but I'm so fucking intrigued. I want to pull his collar out a little and graze my fingers over the raw, inked skin.

Fucking hell.

"What are you doing here, Edward?" I finally ask, purposely drawing out his name.

"I'm here with some buddies," he says, nodding toward a nearby table where the drummer and lead singer are sitting.

"I've never seen you here before."

"I haven't seen you here, either," he says, and I watch him run a hand through his hair. "You haven't kneed me in the balls yet, so I assume that's a good sign?"

Fuck. My heart pounds in my chest. Does he know that I know?

"Why were you expecting me to do that?" I ask innocently.

"Because I was a dick to you on Wednesday… and didn't reply to you last night."

He doesn't know that I know.

"Hmm." I try to fight my smile. "I'm feeling a little more apathetic than angry toward you because of that. I think in terms of emotions, that's worse."

His face falls. "Look—"

"I gave you the chance to talk to me last night. Yet, you ignored me."

"Because I'm… fucking…" He sighs. "I don't know. I'm an idiot."

His admittance almost makes me smile. He moves a little closer and dips his head, so our conversation is more private. And I get lost in his eyes.

"I get stuck in my head sometimes. Is that what you want to hear?"

I can't pull my gaze away from him, and he doesn't move away, so our faces are only inches apart.

"I wanted to hear whatever you were willing to tell me, Edward. Yet you just…" It's my turn to sigh, and I take a small step back. "At least I'm open. Honest," I add for good measure. "You knew I liked you. I told you with my words, and I showed you with my actions, and—"

"I liked you, too," he says, then immediately corrects himself. "I like you, Bella. I can't stop fucking thinking about you."

My annoyance with him falters minimally, and my heart beats faster. "Got a weird way of showing it."

"Sometimes I find it hard to talk to you."

I scoff. "Why? I'm, like, the most approachable person ever."

He gives me a look. "You're really not."

"I'm nice!" I argue.

"I'm not saying you're not nice, but…" His eyes sweep over my body. "Look at you. With those eyes and the dark hair and that… fucking smile."

The last part comes out like he's exasperated, and I can feel myself caving. But fuck. No one's ever made my stomach flutter like this before. No one's ever looked at me the way he's staring at me right now. As if his words were actually true, and he likes me more than he knows how to comprehend and just doesn't know what to do about it.

The bartender hands over my card and a receipt to sign.

"You're leaving?" Edward asks.

"Yeah."

He looks disappointed. "So… will I see you around?"

"I don't know," I say simply.

His eyes find mine, and I watch his whole demeanor change. He's deflated. Defeated. And I know I can't do this to him, no matter how fun it could be to make him sweat.

"I mean, it would serve you right if I walked out of here, but why punish myself for your actions?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm saying I still want to hang out with you, despite... everything."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Come home with me."

A beat passes before he asks, "Right now?"

"No, Edward, next week," I deadpan. "Yes. Right now."

A look of surprise flashes over his face before he smiles a little. "Okay. What do you wanna do?"

I want to give you a chance to come clean.

"I want to talk." I hold his gaze, wondering who will look away first. "Or whatever."

His brows raise. "Or whatever?"

"Hang out," I offer. "Friends hang out, remember?"

The look in his eyes sends a thrill throughout me. "I remember exactly what friends do," he nearly hums, and it's me who looks away first, losing. Damn.

"Well, then?" I clear my throat, sliding my debit card into my back pocket. "Let's go… friend."

xx

Before we leave, I find Jess to say goodbye. When she sees Edward in tow, she grins. She doesn't know it's him yet, so I hug her and whisper into her ear that it's Edward. When we pull back, her grin is still there, but I can tell she's assessing him differently now. I hope he doesn't notice.

"Hi. I'm Jess. This is Paul." None of them shake hands or anything, but Edward nods in their direction.

"Hey. I'm Edward. Happy birthday," he says evenly, looking at Jess.

I narrow my eyes his way. "How did you know it was her birthday?" I ask, a little too sweetly. Because earlier I told Masen it was her birthday, not Edward. God, I wonder how many times things like this slipped past me when I wasn't paying attention.

He stalls, looking around, then points to the half-eaten birthday cake on the table. "I just assumed it was for her."

It does say 'Happy Birthday Jess.' Actually it says 'ess!' because we ate the J, but still. He's good. He's really good. It almost pisses me off. Mostly because I wonder how long he would've let this go on.

"No, you're right. It's her birthday. Very astute, you are." I pretend I didn't just speak like Yoda and look back to Jess.

"Heading out?" she asks with a cheeky smile.

"Yep. Happy birthday, I love you, be safe, and I'll text you tomorrow about all the new… happenings." I give her a pointed look.

"Right. Please do," she laughs. "Love you, bitch."

"Take care of her," I tell Paul, slapping him on the back.

I lead the way out of the bar, assuming Edward's following behind me. When we're outside, I stop on the sidewalk, turning around to face him.

"Did you drive here?" I ask.

"Yeah."

"Take me home?"

He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. "I'm this way."

We walk in silence for a few blocks. He's walking close to me, arms brushing every now and then. It sends a shock through me when I feel his skin, and it would be so fucking easy to grab his hand. To entwine our fingers and let him off the hook—tell him it's all good, and I don't care if he's Masen or Edward as long as he's mine.

But I don't. Not yet.

"So, where do you live?" I ask, curious.

"Capitol Hill."

"Huh. Kinda pricey."

"Most places in Seattle are."

"One bedroom?"

"Studio."

"I bet you have art everywhere," I muse.

"Kinda. It's a bit of a wreck right now."

"I wanna see it," I say quietly. He glances over at me, eyes amused and twinkling.

"Okay."

"Like now? Can we go now?" I'm expecting him to say no and make some excuse about this or that. To stall the opportunity to get to know him.

But he surprises me.

"Sure. Let's go to my place," he agrees.

"Really?"

His smile is sweet; shy. "I thought you wanted to."

"I do, I just… didn't expect you to agree to it."

"Why not?"

I shrug, and he points toward a beat-up red truck up ahead. "You're a private guy. Showing me your place is like giving me the inside scoop on who you really are."

"I wasn't thinking about it that seriously." He opens my door for me, and I climb into the cab. The door is still open, and he stays standing between me and the curb. He's so fucking close, and my body flickers and burns with lust. "Maybe I want you to know who I am," he murmurs, watching my face.

"Maybe I already know who you are," I breathe out, teasing. I turn a little to face him, so my knees are brushing his stomach.

He stares at me curiously. "If that's the case, why are you still here?"

His question catches me off guard for a moment. But I know he's not assuming I know he's Masen. What he's asking is if I knew the real him, the real Edward, why I would still be here?

And the answer is very simple.

So I tell him.

"Because I like what I see and what I know and…" I stare up at him. "Maybe I even like what I don't know." Or what he thinks I don't know.

His eyes bounce from my eyes to my lips.

"Is the kissing seal still broken?" he asks huskily.

"Oh, yeah. That thing is never gonna get fixed."

"Good." He moves slowly, deliberately, and places his hands on the seat surrounding my thighs. We're not touching; he's just caging me in. But then he leans over, so I lean in until our mouths touch. Our kiss is soft at first—a slow, steady rhythm of lips moving together. I let it stay lazy and sweet, appreciating the burn he's creating in my lower belly with each pass of his tongue.

Then I tug his shirt and pull him closer to stand between my open legs. His hands move from the seat, and he grabs my waist. With me still pulling at him, I lean back a little, so I'm almost lying against the bench seat, trying to pull him down with me.

This is a dangerous game, and we both know it.

"Fuck," he breathes out. "Sorry."

I catch my breath. "Don't you dare say you're sorry," I murmur. He straightens, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. "Not for kissing me, at least."

"Okay." His smile is so tender. "So… my place?" he asks.

I lean in and kiss him once more.

"Yeah," I say, determined. "Let's see the real Edward Cullen."