Big thanks to Hadley!

We're quiet on the ride to his place.

I replay our kiss as I stare out the window, watching the night pass by.

"I like your truck," I tell him, glancing his way. It's a bumpy ride, but it somehow fits him. A little rough around the edges… unassuming.

"Thanks. It was my mom's."

"Oh." That makes me like it even more.

He shifts gears, glancing past me as he turns. "Was a big ole hunk of junk until a buddy and I fixed it up. My dad wanted to sell it, but… I didn't let that happen."

I want to hear him talk about his buddy. And why his dad wanted to sell it. And who taught him how to fix trucks.

"I think it still might be a hunk of junk," I tease.

"No shit-talking the truck," he scolds, but I watch the corner of his mouth tug into a smirk.

He manages to parallel park on the street in minimal tries. I follow him over to his building. It's an older place, but again, it suits him. We take the stairs up a few flights—more than I'm happy about—and then he's opening his door, letting me in first.

It's dark inside, and he goes around to turn on various lamps and lights. It's smaller than I thought it'd be, but the one wall with large windows makes it feel spacious.

"Not worried about the neighbors peeking in?" I ask, noting the lack of curtains.

"I have blackout shades; they're just pulled up."

I walk around, taking everything in. There's a tiny kitchen that looks barely used. A bed that's pushed up against the brick wall, no headboard. There are books stacked in piles around the room. A long desk—one half cluttered with art materials and random sketches, the other half with a laptop and an iMac. He doesn't have a couch, and there's no TV. Various paintings are leaning against different surfaces. A giant vintage rug adorns the middle of the room.

I'm still walking around, taking in every bit of him.

"Please, take your time," he jokes.

He jokes. My stomach flickers with excitement over how playful he sounds.

"Okay," I say, fingers brushing over a stack of books on his shelf. "I will."

I'm still searching, trying to find any part of him that screams Masen. But I don't know what I was expecting to find. It's not like he would have a tattoo chair set up in the middle of his place. That's hardly hygienic. Even if I found something, what would I do? Call him out? Probably not. Not yet, anyway.

"I really like your place."

"Thanks. Can I get you something?" he asks.

"Like what?"

"A drink."

I linger by his bed. "What you got?"

"Good question." He opens his fridge, and I walk over to him, attempting to peek past his arm. He shuts the door before I can look inside, and I take it as a sign that he doesn't want me to recognize the photo he posted a few weeks ago. He looks over at me, and I smile knowingly.

He's such a fucker.

"I have some whiskey," he says, reaching on top of the fridge.

"Whiskey is good." I make my way back over toward the bed and kick off my shoes. I crawl to the middle of the mattress and sit with my legs crossed. "You don't mind me in your bed, right?"

He saunters over, glasses of whiskey in his hands, eyes darkening slightly. "Um, no. I don't mind."

"Good. There isn't really anywhere else to sit. You don't entertain much, do you?"

"No, not at all."

He sits next to me but keeps his feet on the floor and hands me the glass.

"Thanks." I take a small sip. "Is the lack of seating your way of forcing women into your bed?"

"Bella." His laugh is small, humorless. "Do you feel forced?"

"No." I watch his face, the way his brows pull together just a little when he drinks from his glass. "Can I ask you something?"

There's hesitancy in his eyes. I think about asking him about why he's been talking to me as Masen, but part of me doesn't want to ruin this just yet. I don't want him to grow guarded.

I wait for his okay, then ask, "Why did you think I was a spoiled little bitch when we first met?"

"I didn't call you a bitch."

I sip my whiskey. "I thought it was implied."

"I don't think you're a bitch, and I certainly didn't think that when we first met."

"Okay. So… why'd you think all the other stuff then?"

He stares down into his drink. "I've been teaching that class for almost a year now, and I've dealt with… certain kinds of people during that time. I think I made a judgement about you from that."

I'm not following. "What kind of people?"

He looks nervous but goes on. "Wealthy people? The moms who put their kids in every class imaginable, so they don't have to deal with them. The dads who don't show up because they're busy with more important matters." He pauses for a second, and I get the feeling maybe this is personal for him. "Half the kids in that class don't even want to be there, but their parents make them go anyway."

Oh. He's talking about people like Renee and Phil. And kids like Liam.

"So, you hated me because of that?"

"I never hated you." He stares down into his glass. "I also wasn't sure if Liam was your kid or not. But you looked too young to have a kid his age, so then I thought he was maybe the kid of someone you were dating."

"Rest assured if Liam were my kid, I'd definitely put him up for adoption."

Edward laughs at my joke, and I smile from watching him smile.

"Yeah, y'all bickered too much, so that theory ended quick." The corner of his mouth twitches like he's remembering every argument Liam and I have had in front of him. "Then I assumed you were his nanny. I meet a lot of nannies."

"I bet you do," I say offhandedly, not realizing how jealous it sounds until it's out of my mouth.

"Even if I kept changing your story, I always wondered if you were single." He looks at me then. "Always. You never wore a ring, so I knew you weren't married, but that didn't mean you didn't have a boyfriend. Then I decided you probably were single because you'd linger, like you wanted to talk to me."

"I'm not a lingerer!" I totally am when it comes to him.

He laughs at my reaction. "Well, it seemed that way. And… I liked it."

"So why didn't you start talking to me until a couple of weeks ago?"

"I guess I decided I wanted to know you." He looks uncomfortable. Flustered, almost. I'm about to change the subject when Edward does it for us. "I'm glad Liam likes the class now. I just hope he gets to sign up for something he actually wants to do next time."

I nod, eyes dropping from his. "Is that what your dad did with you? Kept you busy so he wouldn't have to deal?"

Edward looks surprised. "You picked up on that, huh?"

"A little."

He shrugs, and I get the feeling the topic is dropped. But I don't let him get off so easily.

"You don't have to do that, you know," I say quietly and watch him take a swig.

"What?"

"Stop talking about yourself. I like knowing about you, hearing about your life."

He's quiet, expression a little more open than before. "I'd rather hear about you," he tells me.

"What about me?"

"When was your last boyfriend?"

"Bad question," I groan. "Choose another."

"Why?"

"Because topics like this are tricky."

He grins, and it makes me smile in return.

"Now I definitely want to know," he says, almost playfully.

"Not much to tell. I've had like, two serious boyfriends, dated here and there, and it was all very meh."

"Hmm."

I swirl the liquid in my glass. "They were never the real deal or anything like that."

"Is that what you're looking for? Something real?"

"Isn't everyone?" I ask rhetorically. "I'm not really looking for anything. That doesn't mean I'm not open to things happening, though."

"So, it's not the real deal with that Jake guy, then."

"Not even close," I laugh. "Besides, I ended that."

"I gotta admit…" he starts to say then stops and runs a nervous hand through his hair.

"What?"

"It kinda pissed me off seeing you with Jake."

"Oh." My heart clenches. "I kinda thought so."

"You mean I wasn't good at hiding how fucking jealous I was?"

"No. And I kinda liked it." I tuck some hair behind my ear. "So, what are you looking for, then? Past girlfriends? Tell me everything."

He takes his time answering, which makes me nervous. "Not many girlfriends. More… casual relationships."

"When was your last casual relationship or whatever?"

"Talk about bad questions," he mumbles, shaking his head.

"What? You know about Jake. It's only fair. Spill."

He sighs. "I was seeing someone, like, two months ago."

"Was she a knockout?"

He keeps his face neutral. "Sure."

"Sure? Come on. You saw Jake!"

"I think it's bad taste to sit here with you, someone I'm really fucking into and find so… goddamn sexy," he says, voice just above a whisper, "and talk about how attractive the last person I dated was."

His words make my heart skip a beat. It's rare for him to speak with such candor, like he is tonight, but now that he's done it, I don't think I'll ever want anything less from him.

"You think I'm sexy?"

He swigs his drink. "Very much so."

I smile down into my glass. "If you're trying to charm me to get off the hook, it's not gonna work. I told you about Jake. Who was the last person you dated?"

He sighs. "Her name's Rose."

Rosethorn. The girl who tagged photos of her tattoos to Masen's profile.

I knew I hated her for a reason.

"And did you call it off or did she?"

"She ended it. I wasn't putting in a lot of effort."

"Is that a common occurrence for you with the women you're seeing? A lack of effort?"

Maybe it's mean of me to say because he's put in a lot of effort with me. Like, double the effort, in fact.

"I'm just busy, I guess. I don't really spend time trying to… woo someone."

I think back to my conversation with Masen from earlier this week, how he said he was sufficiently wooed by me.

"Wooing is important," I say, watching his face. "And getting sufficiently wooed is like… almost unheard of nowadays."

We play the staring game, his mouth opening just a little like he's about to say something. The confusion in his eyes is quickly replaced with a twinkle, and I wonder if he knows that I know. I know it's weird but… it's fun. Almost exhilarating. Is this how he felt when he'd drop little hints to me and wait to see if I picked up on them?

He looks away first, losing the staring game.

"I like what's happening here with us, Edward," I say boldly.

"You do, huh?"

"Yeah. It doesn't make me feel meh at all."

"The bar is set pretty low, it seems."

"No," I say seriously. "It's not. If anything, it's set too high, to where no one I've met really exceeds my expectations."

He looks surprised by this answer. "And I do?"

"Maybe."

We finish our whiskey.

"Did you get a new tattoo?" I ask, pointing toward the ink that stains his collarbone.

"I did. A couple of days ago."

"Can I see?"

He swallows. "If you want."

"I do."

He tugs at his collar, pulling it back so I can see his newly marked skin.

"Did it hurt?" I ask, staring at the parts of the black raven that I can see. It feels kind of dark, and I wonder what it means to him.

"No matter how many tattoos I get... it still hurts. But it's manageable. Do you have any tattoos?" he asks, but I know he already knows the answer. I think about lying. And then I think again.

"No. Not yet anyway." We fall silent. "What now?" I ask coyly.

"We could watch something."

Code for: we could hook up.

I hope.

"Okay."

I set my glass on the wood floor and move, so I'm sitting up with a pillow between my back and the brick wall. I watch him sort through some stuff on his desk then grab his laptop, bringing it back with him. He gets comfortable next to me and opens his laptop, pulling up Netflix.

"What do you wanna watch?" he asks, eyes on the screen as he scrolls through. I'm quiet long enough for him to look over at me.

"I don't actually want to watch anything," I whisper, chest rising and falling with my shallow breaths.

"No?"

I shake my head, leaning over a little to press a gentle kiss to his arm. When he lets me do it again, I move the laptop away, so I can straddle him. My stomach flickers and burns when I'm sitting on him, loving the way he grabs my waist and kisses me, a welcome feeling. His dick grows hard beneath me, egging me on—also a welcome feeling.

"Fuck, Bella."

"Yeah," I say, breathless.

"I didn't bring you back here for this," he says between kisses.

"So what? I came back here for this."

I suck on his neck, kissing my way down to the top of the raven, and he hisses. "Shiiit."

"Please don't stop this time..."

"I'm… I just don't—"

"Are you actually telling me you don't want this?"

"I don't… know. I don't know what the fuck I'm saying. I can't think with you on me."

He lets me stay where I am, and our kisses turn lazy, languid. His mouth trails from mine to my neck, and I moan at the sensation.

But then he pauses, and I pull back, searching his face.

"I don't want it to seem like… I'm… taking advantage of you," he finally manages to get out.

"You aren't." I'm confused then remember he's Masen. But he's also Edward… and a decent guy. I'm equal parts thrilled and disappointed by this fact. But I don't care about any of it because I want him no matter who the fuck he is.

"Maybe I don't want it to be some quick thing we just get over really fast," he whispers, brushing my cheek with his thumb.

"It doesn't have to be quick," I tell him, still moving in small circles on his lap. "It can be really slow… then fast."

He tips his head back a little, throaty laugh escaping his lips. "You're killing me here."

"I know." I'm not helping at all. But I don't think he's gonna cave. And as much as I'm disappointed by it… it kinda makes me like him that much more. "Fine."

I move off of him, even though I don't want to. He adjusts himself, and I feel a little bad, but he teased me just as much as I did him.

He moves the laptop back onto his lap.

"I could just go, too," I say quietly. I don't want to assume I'm staying. And I don't want him to assume that, either. I want him to ask me.

"Do you want to go?" he asks.

"No. Do you want me to?"

"No. I want you to stay."

"Like stay over?"

"Yes."

I give him a disbelieving look. "So, we aren't gonna hook up, but you want me to stay the night?"

"Yeah," he says after a second. "Yeah, I guess so."

"You're a strange one, Cullen."

"I've been called worse."

I study his face. "All right. I'll stay."

"Pick something to watch," he says, lifting his arm, an invitation for me to curl against him.

I sigh and lie next to him. "Have you ever seen You've Got Mail?"