AN: Huge thank you to Monica who's been blasting through the chapters despite tech issues, and a big shout out to all my amazing pre-readers, I appreciate you putting up with me than you know 😂

Happy Weekend!

Chapter 18

"Are you ready?"

I let out a breath, unsticking my lip from my teeth.

"As I'll ever be."

My eyes find Jasper, sitting on the bench by the door, inspecting his arm closely, his tattoo freshly bandaged over in a thin plastic film.

"It'll be okay," he mouths at me, catching me staring.

I know it will, but that doesn't stop my stomach from rolling.

I glance to Rose on my right, the sound of the tattoo gun already whirring, her blue eyes focused on the ceiling as she chats away to the heavily pierced girl tattooing her.

"Just tell me at any point if it's too much, and we can stop and take a break." My tattooist–Brett–smiles at me through a close cropped ginger beard.

"Go for it," I tell him. "It's the suspense that's killing me."

He laughs, loudly.

"Alright then, little lady. Let's get to it."

My eyes flutter closed, and the first time the needle enters my skin I wince, a sharp intake of air. After that, it's not so bad and I settle in. I'm finding it surreal that we made this pact when we were still freshmen in high school and now, here we are. Actually doing it, only weeks until we disperse over the country to pursue… life, I guess.

I drag my tongue bar across the back of my teeth, because no matter how I feel, the reality is time is running short, and that's a bitter pill to swallow.

Rose jumps up from her seat fifteen minutes later, making her way over to a large mirror propped against the exposed brick wall of the studio to examine her new inked skin.

Her gaze settles on me and she beams, Docs thumping on hardwood floors as she crosses over to me.

"You doing okay?" she asks, peering over. "It's getting there."

"Sitting like a pro," Brett answers for me, winking as he pauses, wiping away blood and ink when I glance down. "Not even a flinch."

"You're exaggerating," I tell him. "I definitely flinched."

"I've had way worse first-timers."

"Good thing Heidi skipped this one then," Rose agrees.

"Why's that?" Brett asks, wiping over the area again, looking between us.

"Passes out at blood draws and shots. It's the needles," she sighs.

"Not uncommon. A shame though."

"It really is."

Rose is looking at her inner arm, the words 'no matter where' underneath two hands with interlocking pinky fingers. Mine is going to mirror hers, the wording slightly different: 'no matter what.' Jasper has 'no matter when' as the title of the cassette tape etched into his bicep.

Because no matter where, no matter what, no matter when—we're always going to be friends. I can't ever imagine not having them in my life when they've been such a big part of it for so long.

Edward appears at the door, board in hand, breathless and flushed just as Brett's finishing up. He's been putting in some serious time skating, a bundle of nerves and energy with the X Games next week. Even now he found a spot further down from the studio to practice. Anytime he's not skating, we've spent it together, or with Jasper, Rose, and Heidi. Occasionally Alice.

Ever since Warped tour, Alice and I are playing a game of who can be the nicest, layered with underlying mutual dislike. Edward took her aside the next day, and when they came back her eyes were red, as if she'd been crying. I felt kind of bad, but as Rose said… If you're going to twist the truth just to be a bitch, then it's kind of what you deserve.

Edward sits down heavily next to Jasper, examining his tattoo, punching him lightly in his arm.

"Looks sick. Way better than my first."

"Which one was your first?"

Edward turns down the back of his sock, showing an acid smiley face on his ankle.

"Wow, that's pretty shit."

"Young and dumb man, young and dumb."

"Still young and dumb."

"Truth."

They laugh, easy going. My attention returns to Brett as he cleans and wraps my arm up, giving me all the tips he can in how best to look after it until it's healed up: no sunbathing, no swimming, showers only. He stops when Edward comes over.

"Sweet," Edward says. "Nice work, dude."

Brown eyes dart between us to the board still in his hands. "Thanks, man. Hey, sorry, aren't you Edward Cullen?"

"That's me," Edward says, fingers spinning wheels, suddenly looking awkward.

"No way! I've been following you for a long time. Big fan."

"Yeah?" He says it like he doesn't believe him. My fingers find his hand, running down his side. Reassuring him, I think, or I hope.

"Hundred percent. I used to skate a little but fucked my leg up. No loss though, I was pretty terrible."

"As long as you enjoyed it, who cares," Edward tells him with a shrug.

And I love that about him. How his emphasis isn't on winning, or being the best, but just about doing something that your heart loves.

"Miss it like crazy. Are you going with him for the X Games?" Brett asks me.

"Only the final day. Work sucks."

Because, unfortunately for me, no amount of tacky key chains will ever convince Mike to let me have more time off.

Instead, I'm going out for the last day; if Edward makes the finals I'll be there watching. If he doesn't we get a day in LA together. But there's no way he's not reaching the finals. When I was with him and Embry the other day, Embry said he was pretty much a shoe-in.

Edward takes nothing for granted though, with a shake of his head he just said: "You don't know what'll happen."

And even though I know he's right, it still doesn't stop me picturing it happening in my head.

...

Eyeing the skate park sprawling out in front of us, nervousness makes my legs feel weak. The fact Edward thinks he's got time to mess around teaching me when he flies out tomorrow is just…. crazy. But he insisted, so here we are.

"I'm going to get laughed out of this place."

"No, you won't."

I scoff.

"I'll punch anyone who laughs at you."

I don't doubt it either.

"Sweet, but wouldn't wan't you to fuck up that pretty face of yours," I retort.

"You think I've got a pretty face?" He flashes me a smile. "Good to know, I think your face is pretty too, which is why—"

He reaches behind his seat and pulls out a box.

"Noooo," I moan, eyeing the helmet up in distaste.

"Yes."

"Urgh."

"Shut up."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"No, I don't."

They greet Edward like some sort of messiah when we walk into the park, whoops and hollers, his name ringing around, bouncing off concrete. He stops to talk to a few people here and there, first bumps and 'aights' exchanged. Eventually they drift away when they realize he's not here to skate himself, a mixture of amused and approving looks sent my way.

"I can't believe you're making me do this. I can't believe I let you talk me into this!" I groan, rolling my board underneath my foot. "You should be skating, not wasting your time with me."

He tuts, hands on my hips, pulling me into a kiss.

"Nothing about this is wasting my time. You're gonna be great. Remember what we practiced?"

"Yeah," I sigh, resigned.

"It's just that, over a drop."

"Easy for you to say."

He surveys the area first, choosing an unoccupied mellow bank. Putting his board down, he shows me.

"Like this?" I copy what he did, back wheels against coping.

"Mhmm, then when you're ready, just drop your shoulder, keep your knees bent. Remember, you're going to roll as soon as the back wheels come down."

I take a breath and then I do what we've practiced a hundred times, even though I feel stupid.

"Great," Edward says, as I roll to a stop. "And again."

"You're really getting the hang of it," he says after a while. Too many times to count. "Want to try in the bowl?"

"Do I get to sit down afterwards? I don't have the stamina you do."

He looks at me, a sly smile covering his face. "That's a lie."

Flashes of rolling hips, burning thighs, and ragged gasps of air fill my mind. He's close now, behind me, body heat warming my back.

"When I get you home, I want a repeat," he murmurs, biting at my ear, kissing my neck. I lean back into him and hum, his hand gripping my hip hard Stepping back, his next words are encouraging. "Don't think, just do."

I put the wheels against the coping of the bowl. It's daunting and I'm hesitant.

"Commit."

"I can think of a few things I'd like to commit to right now, but this isn't one of them. Murder, I could commit to."

My board ends up running away from me, and I'm lucky to keep my front teeth when I completely wipe out.

"You didn't fully drop your shoulder, or back."

I glare at him from the ground.

"Watch."

He shows me, effortless as ever.

I try again and again, and again, and again until Embry's joined Edward, standing at his shoulder, shouting out pointers, until I finally get it right and I'm still on my board.

Edward's smile lights up his whole face. "There you go," he cheers.

I hide my face in my hands, embarrassed at his excitement for achieving something so basic. He moves them away, holding me tight.

"So proud right now."

"Yeah?" I look at him shyly.

"Yeah, for real."

"See," I say. "You are a good teacher, Ned."

His grin gets wider, eyes twinkling.

"Glad you think so. Think it helps that you love me though."

"Maybe," I tease.

I gaze up at him, his eyes scanning around the park.

"Go on," I tell him with a little push away.

"Go on, what?"

"Shred it up or whatever you call it." I wave vaguely at the rest of the park. "I can tell you're dying to, and it's all practice, right?"

He digs out a battered iPod from his pocket: "You sure?"

"I've got this guy," I say, jerking my thumb at Embry, standing not so far away, texting on his cell. "If I'm not going to be in LA to see most of it, I want to see now."

"Yeah, bro, tear it up!" Embry says, pocketing his cell, and walking over. "Show off for your girl. I got her."

He doesn't need much encouragement. Shirt off, flying round the bowl like he owns it, doing line after line down rails and steps, magnetic in the way he moves; lean muscle, minor adjustments to his feet on the board.

"Dude is next level," Embry says, letting out a low whistle.

"He really is."

...

Later, when the afternoon sun is getting lower in the sky, Edward pulls out a marker and brandishes it at me.

"Sign something on here for me?"

"Like what?"

"I dunno. Anything you want."

I think, before taking the pen from him, uncapping it and putting the lid between my teeth.

I can feel his gaze as hair falls in front of my face. I scribble a B on the deck, right in the middle, and then mirror it to make it look like a butterfly. It's the same lame shit I used to do in middle school on all my school books because I thought it was cool.

"Sorry, it's lame."

"Nothing you do is ever lame," he grins. "Now you just made this my lucky board." He pulls me to him, warmth of his skin on mine, his hand sliding over my face, until my lips are on his.

We make out until I'm dizzy. Straddling his lap in the middle of the park, completely shameless, until an old lady passes, tutting loudly. Laughing into Edward's neck, we slowly untangle ourselves.

"Ice cream?" he offers, hand weaving with mine.

"Sure."

We walk to the ice cream truck just outside the entrance to the park, and it feels weird knowing he's flying out tomorrow. The kind of weird that makes me feel teary and filled with dread.

"What's wrong?"

He's noticed. I squeeze his hand.

"Going to miss you."

"It's only for a few days," he says.

"I know."

It kind of makes it even worse.

Edward skates with his ice cream in his hand as the sun sets, long shadows on the ground and an orange glow everywhere. When he comes off his board heavily and is left sprawled on the ground, I'm up and over to him.

He sits up, ice cream melting around his hand.

"Are you okay?"

He brings his hand up to his mouth, licking the drips of ice cream from it.

"Yup."

The way he looks at me makes my heart squeeze.

"Were you worried?"

"A little," I confess.

"This is nothing."

"Still doesn't make it easy to watch you get hurt," I tell him truthfully.

Slowly he gets up, checking his grazed arm, before moving his limbs to loosen them up. He looks at me impishly.

"Wanna go home and be my nurse?"

...

"Why have we decided to do this again?" I complain, frowning at the pile of tent sheeting and bendy poles laid out on the ground in front of us—as if adding elastic between them makes it any easier.

"To commemorate our friendship," Jasper supplies.

"More like to test our friendship. Maybe we should've just rented a camper, or something?"

"God, you're in a shitty mood. Lighten up, this is supposed to be fun," Rose says, grabbing the ground sheet and unfolding it.

I jut my chin at them in defiance, but the truth is I really am, and I have no idea why… I'm guessing it's just hormones or something. Spending time with Jasper and Rose though, that's a good thing, especially with Edward in LA right now.

"You're right. Sorry. Let's get this over with."

'Over with' takes an hour of bickering. With the tent finally standing, we unload our sleeping bags and all the other shit we need out of Jasper's car, and I'm more than ready for the cold beer he hands me from the cooler.

Settling back into fold out camping chairs, I glance around. Even though it's late afternoon, the grass is still wet, smearing my Docs with blades of grass, a dampness in the air that clings to my breath and a chill that reminds me of fall. But it's too early for it to feel like fall...

I still want it to be summer.

And if I were being honest, I want this summer to last forever.

I sigh. It's quiet, and I can appreciate that—

relative silence. I tip my head back looking at grey skies, birds flying high on thermals high overhead.

Jasper digs in his bag and pulls out a faded disposable camera.

"No way. Where did you get that?"

"Found it in a box underneath my bed. It's still in date, so…" He holds it up to his face, squinting through the viewfinder and clicks. I shake my head.

"You are too cool for school," Rose drawls, lowering her sunglasses.

"Yeah, right."

"No, you are." I agree. "These are like… almost retro now. Obsolete."

He flips me off and I laugh. He clicks again and again. Photos of me and Rose, me and him, us all together, pointed blindly at us as we cram together. I kind of can't wait to see how they develop. Red eyes, bleached out, thumbs in the way... There's something about printed photos that are better than digital. The excitement of tearing into the envelope from the drugstore and the guaranteed fact that half of them will be absolutely useless. The ones that do come out well are like the holy grail of photos.

The heat of the fire we start takes the chill off my bones as I snuggle deeper into Edward's hoodie. I stole it, and it still smells like him. Snd I know because I've sniffed it more than once since he left.

I know he's somewhere in LA skating his heart out right now, but I can't help checking my cell often. Saying goodbye was even harder than the last time; I cried a lot when I got home from seeing him off from the airport, and the reality struck me really hard.

I'm in love.

And nothing's going to change that.

Rose stares into flames, rubbing over her lip with her thumb, Jasper stalking off into the distance to find a signal for his cell.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

Rose makes a strangled sound in the back of her throat as she clears it.

"Not really."

We sit in silence as I wait, but when she says nothing at all, I try to coax it out of her.

"I'm not going to college," she admits eventually, tucking her hands under her armpits. "I'm staying here."

"What?"

My mouth moves, but words don't form and when they do, it's stilted.

"But… why? You've always wanted this. To get away from here."

She fiddles with the pull top on her can of Red Stripe, nail flicking against metal agitatedly.

"I still do," she confesses. "But I can't– just leave my mom alone. She needs… she needs professional help. Treatment and the only way—the only money we have left is the money they put away for college. It's not much, but it's enough to maybe get her in one of those facilities your mom looked up."

She fishes into her bag, bringing out an off-brand bottle of vodka and cracks open the top, sleeve of her sweater fisted around her hand. Tipping it up, her face screws up as she swallows.

"Rose…" I move over to her, hugging her awkwardly in her chair.

She blows out a breath, tears in her eyes. Taking her hand in mine, I squeeze it tightly. "It'll be okay, it'll work itself out. I'm here for you, always—"

"I know. I don't get matching tattoos with any bitch."

I laugh, and sober as her smile fades fast.

"So that's that?"

"Pretty much. Going to pick up full-time shifts at the store and… stay here. Maybe I can apply for scholarships for next year."

"Or there's community college?"

"Maybe. Maybe next year. This year has gotta be about my mom and getting her well again, then I can think about me. I don't want to lose her, Bella. She's all I've got. I'm just… so tired of being angry all the time. At her. At my dad. Tired of worrying. This needs putting right first. Or at least trying. At least I'll be able to say I tried. I don't want to look back and… and feel guilt for not trying, you know?" She swallows hard, a tear tracking down her cheek.

"I love you," I tell her again.

"I love you too. You're gonna have such a good time away. I know it." She smiles faintly, fondly twirling my hair around her finger.

"I hope your mom appreciates this when she's… better."

"Me too. But… I'm not holding my breath. This is… it's hard. Maybe if I got her help sooner..."

She swallows hard, expelling a shaky breath.

"That's not your fault, Rose, and you know it."

"But it feels like it is," she sniffs. "If I hadn't been so stubborn, if I hadn't tried to ignore the problem. Asked for help sooner."

"Still not your fault, come on. We're barely adults."

"I can't use that as an excuse," Rose says flatly, reaching for a red Solo cup. She pours more vodka into the cup, adding the smallest splash of coke.

"Five bucks says he's talking to Alice," Rose says, with a ghost of a smile as she tilts her head towards where Jasper is pacing up and down.

He brings his cell away from his face before scaling the bathhouse to sit on the roof, he's all gangly long legs and arms; completely ungraceful. When he's sitting, he lights up, smoking and taking up his cell with a tight expression on his face.

I snort a laugh behind my hand. "It's not funny. He's like, in love with her and she's not even…" I shake my head disapprovingly. "She's just..."

"Me either. I mean, you can't deny she's pretty, but the petty, vindictive side is so ugly. I still can't believe she told you all that fucking shit about her and Ned hooking up…"

"Right!" I take another gulp of beer.

"I've been thinking we should probably let Jazz know."

I bite my lip, Edward's words echoing in my head about allowing him to be an adult, learn his own mistakes, but this feels like… more than that.

"What if he hates us for it? What if he ends up hating Edward for it?"

"Oh c'mon, Bella, he'll be angry, but he'll get over it. We're saving him. And besides, Edward didn't mention it because it meant nothing."

"I guess," I say, slowly.

And he didn't want to cause any tension between him and Jasper, which is why I'm hesitant. Telling Jasper might just do that.

"No guessing about it. Called it from day one. Alice is bad news. You know it and I know it. Jasper deserves to be happy, but she's not it, and she's not even making him happy, that much is obvious."

The peacefulness gets interrupted by a loud, "Get down from there!" echoing across the campsite, some older guy from reception, yelling.

Jasper's voice travels as he argues, before he finally relents, stumbling as he hits gravel ground.

He walks back over slowly, taking his time as he slumps down into his chair.

"Alice?" Rose asks.

Jasper's face gives him away, and Rose and I exchange a look.

Bingo.

"Look—" Rose says, offering the vodka. "We have something we want to say."

He looks between us. "Why doesn't that surprise me," he mutters, tipping back the bottle, spluttering as soon as it hits the back of his throat. He wipes his mouth and closes his eyes.

"Say it," he says.

"Well, Alice? She's—"

"We're worried she's using you." I interrupt, words escaping in a rush.

"She is," Jasper says. "I'm not stupid. I see the way she moons over Ned." Bitterness twists his face. Then he says, softer. "I think she likes me too, but just not as much. When we're alone, it's all good." He sighs. "I dunno. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing anymore."

"You know we love you, right?"

"Right."

"Well, at Warped… she kind of. She said some really… nasty stuff to Bella."

Jasper frowns, looking at me. "She did? Like what?"

"Just implying that me and Edward wouldn't work out, that he's not serious about me… that kinda thing." I swallow and take another sip of my beer, watching as Jasper leans forward with his elbows on his knees and his fists propping up his chin.

"And she tried to make out like her and Edward had hooked up. Embellished the truth," Rose adds.

"What are you talking about? Embellished what truth?"

"I asked him about it," I tell Jasper quickly. "They were drunk, and she kissed him at the start of summer. It didn't go any further than that."

Jasper runs a hand through his hair.

"But… he didn't say anything. He said they were just friends." He frowns. "Surely if it was nothing he would've just admitted it when I asked."

He looks at me.

"It doesn't bother you?"

Does it bother me?

"Her kissing him? No. It was before we'd even met so… I'm just annoyed because she tried to make out like it went much further than that. I believe him when he says nothing else happened. And I think the only reason he didn't tell you was because he didn't see it as a big thing." I pause. "I also think you should be treated better, even if this is just casual; you know? Trying to cause issues between me and Edward… it was a really shitty thing to do and completely disregarded you too."

Jasper stares off into the distance for a while. Quiet. Stoic. He nods and upends the bottle. "Fuck it," he says, as the last of it drains away. He throws the glass bottle in the fire, the alcohol acting like an accelerant making it bigger, bluer. He grabs his cell, typing out a message.

"What did you say?" Rose asks.

"That we need to talk. I'll tell her tomorrow, face-to-face, that I'm not doing this anymore. You're right. I deserve better."

...

My voice is loud when Edward rings.

"Heyyyyyy."

His laugh makes my heart stutter so hard in my chest.

"You're drunk."

"Freakin' wasted," I tell him, honestly. "I miss you. How'd you do?"

"Went good. Into the finals. Can't wait for you to be here though. See you in the crowd." His voice lowers. "Miss you too." I hear a laugh in the background and Edward telling someone to shut the fuck up. A door clicks closed before he speaks again.

"Sorry. Sam's just being a dick."

Thoughts crowd my brain: anxieties, fears, and wants fighting their way to the fore. I talk without realizing; truths so big they feel like they fill the distance between us.

"I don't want this to end." I tell him softly. "When I leave—I don't want this to stop. I'm just… scared. But I want you. And I want to try and make this work, even if we're thousands of miles away from each other."

His silence on the line makes me panic. I kick a rock, the hurt from my foot dulled by vodka and beer.

"If you still feel like that," I add.

"I do," he breathes. "I just… fuck, you're so drunk."

"Shh. I'm confessing my heart. Being drunk is just making me say shit out loud. I love you, and I want you to be my boyfriend."

"Yeah?" he says quietly.

"Yeah."

"We'll make it work," he says, his voice full of conviction. "I can fly out and see you in Chicago, I can fly you to Seattle… we'll make it work. Fuck, I can't wait to see you."

"I'm sorry I'm doing this drunk and on the phone, but I can't wait any longer. It just feels… I need you to know. That's what I want."

"Stop saying sorry," he says. "I- you don't know how happy I am right now."

My heart swells, and I wish so badly I could reach out and touch him. Hug him. Kiss him.

"I love you," I say instead. Three words that touch people in places that no physical touch can reach.

"Fuck, I love you too."

…

We finally crash at 2 AM, the whole tent spinning as my head hits the pillow. I close my eyes and it gets worse, so I open my eyes again, stomach rushing and bubbling with nausea.

"Gonna miss you guys," I tell the canvas sky.

"We're gonna miss you too," Rose sighs.

"Shut up, some of us have gotta drive tomorrow," Jasper says.

"Some of us have work tomorrow," Rose retorts. "Mike's gonna be awful."

I giggle, I can't help it, then Rose follows until we're all laughing loudly. We hush and shush, but it takes ages for us to settle. Rose needs to get up and pee, twice. Jasper randomly tries to remember the name of the teacher we had in second grade that tried to force him into being friends with anyone but me. We don't remember her name, but we laugh a lot. Talking about other more random memories that resurface: setting off the alarms during senior prom smoking a joint in a classroom, the time Jasper fell off a slide stoned, when Heidi and Rose dry humped and thought we wouldn't notice.

Morning brings bright sun, a headache that threatens to split my skull in two, and vomiting in the tree line to the disgust of one of the few families camped over the way from us.

Rose is the only one who can stomach making breakfast, leaving Jasper and I to tackle the tent. We're much more subdued than yesterday: working seamlessly sans bickering, shades hiding bloodshot eyes.

"Pass the Advil," I moan, rubbing at my forehead as I collapse into a chair. "And remind me never to drink vodka again."

"Pointless," Jasper says. "You'll do it anyway, no matter what anyone says."

I stick my tongue out at him, but he's right. I'll definitely do it again.

I text Edward as Jasper pulls out onto the road, telling him we're on the way home. Only one more night at work and I fly out tomorrow on the red eye. Excitement and nerves in my stomach. I can't actually wait to see him.

Driving down huge swathes of road, towering trees and twisty bends we perk up on painkillers and energy drinks, singing loudly to a mix Jasper pulled together: all our favorite songs from over the years: a soundtrack to our youth.

"I've burned you copies," Jasper tells us. "So you can take them with you."

"Aw, thanks Jazz." I lean over and kiss him on the cheek. He glances sideways at me, cheeks now pink.

"Guess you can remember me that way," he laughs.

"Don't be so sappy, you're coming back for Christmas right? And summer?"

He dips his head in a little nod.

My cell vibrates and I pull it out, the smile creeping on my face when I see it's Edward messaging me back.

Do you even remember last night?

How could I forget? I asked him to be my boyfriend like I'm in junior high.

Halfway through my reply, Jasper swears.

And it all happens too fast. But too slow.

The car lurches, swerving. The violence of metal on metal, the sound grating and crunching.

My eyes can't focus, air sucked out of my lungs as force spins us, a shrill screeching in my ears, my head connecting with something hard, and then…

There's nothing.

A moment of consciousness that brings nothing but white hot blinding pain. It's immediate. My ears ring. I blink, and I blink, but everything is blurry. My head throbs, pain across my chest, my arms.

I try to move, but I can't. The taste of blood filling my mouth, at the same time something like panic floods my stomach as I try to grasp hold of something.

Anything.

I try to twist my head, try to shout, ragged gasps of air burning through my throat. I'm mute though, in silent agony. The pain only gets worse, darkness closing in, blackness seeping into my vision.

The car.

Rose.

Jasper.