Huge thanks to Hadley for her helpful beta skills! And to Sobhanya for reading and constantly working shit out with me.

Thanks for reading - hope to see you Wednesday!

Also hope y'all are reading Clean Sneak by BellaDonna and TheFictionFreak! It's dangerous and sexy and fun!

Chapter Eleven

Edward and I ride the bus until it reaches the terminal. He lets me get off first, staying close behind.

We're probably half an hour from my house and even further from his.

Evening has begun creeping in. By now, little flurries still fall from the barely-lit sky and snow sticks to sidewalks and roads.

I wind my scarf around my neck the same moment he shoves his hair under his beanie.

"Where to now?" Edward asks, walking next to me.

"Home, I guess."

"Mine or yours?" he asks casually. Forwardly.

"Both," I say, catching the mirth that dances in his eyes. "I'll go to mine. You'll go to yours."

"What, you don't want to hang out a little longer?"

"I mean… what's there to do?"

His easy smile makes my stomach flip. "We can find plenty to do."

It's so tempting. "I should go home. Make sure my friend is feeling okay."

"Is Rose still sick?"

"I think so," I reply, then give him a sideways look and slow my pace a little. "How'd you know her name?"

"Hmm?"

"I don't think I told you."

"I overheard you. When you were on the phone the other night, checking on her." He clears his throat. "If you need to go home, I can walk with you."

"I'm not walking home. There's a bus stop a few blocks away that will take me close enough."

"Then I'll ride with you."

"Not necessary."

"What kind of guy would I be if I didn't make sure you got home safely?"

"This city is safe," I tell him automatically. "Violence is nearly nonexistent."

"You believe that?"

I stop in place and button my coat to keep the chill out. "I know, I know. You must think the government is corrupt, and everything they tell us is lies."

"Actually, yeah. I do." He waits next to me and raises his brows in challenge.

"You do remember who my father is, right?"

"Like I could forget," he mutters.

His fight dies down then, and he falls quiet when I was kind of hoping he'd offer something snarkier in return. I don't let on to this, though, and let the subject drop.

"I'm staying with you until you get home," he finally says when I reach the last button on my coat. "That's not up for debate. My mom would kill me if she knew I let you walk alone at night."

He starts walking again, briefly tugging on my fingers for me to follow him. And then we're holding hands. It's only for a second. It's such a simple gesture, the most innocent of contact, but it makes my pulse race and my stomach flicker.

It feels natural, my fingers clasped within his. I don't even think he realizes that he reached for my hand until he does, and he lets go.

My skin burns from the quick contact.

"Your mom knows about me?" I ask.

"Don't worry, she doesn't know you came over or anything."

"But she knows about me," I clarify.

He keeps his face down, staring at the pavement as we walk side by side. "Your name might've come up."

My stomach clenches. "Really? What did you tell her?"

He ignores my question, pointing toward the grocer on the corner. "Hey, didn't you need to stop by the store?"

"Don't change the subject."

He bites back a smile as he says, "Or was my gut feeling right, and you were only riding the bus hoping you'd see me?"

I hate how spot-on he is and fight my own smile. "If you answer my question, I'll answer yours."

"Hmm." He shoves his hands into the pockets of his coat. "I don't know about this one."

"What? Why?"

"Because your answer is either a yes or a no. Mine is a bit more complicated."

I hate how desperate I am to know what he told his mother about me. "Complicated how?"

"In the only way that complications can be. Messy. Tangled. Confusing."

"And what's so messy and tangled and confusing about me?" My tone is lighter now, and he smirks. We wait for a car to pass, and then we cross the road.

"I'm not saying you're any of those things. You're..." He pauses for a moment, growing more serious than I was expecting.

A moment passes, but he doesn't finish his thought. As much as I want to know exactly what he was going to say, I let it go.

A couple passes us on the sidewalk, and Edward moves closer to me, arm brushing mine. Even when they've passed us and we're alone again, he stays close.

I shiver, but I'm unsure if it's from the cold or his proximity.

"Maybe we can run into each other on purpose next time. Like… with a specific place and time in mind instead of just hoping we'll see each other on the bus."

I steal at glance at his neutral expression. Snowflakes collect across his broad shoulders and along his beanie.

"Are you asking me out?"

"No. I know you don't date," he replies, avoiding my eyes.

Snow crunches beneath my boots. "You're right. I don't."

"But you did. Once," he reminds me, and I fight the urge to touch the scar behind my left ear. "Or maybe more than that?"

"Just once. Clearly, that didn't work out. Otherwise, I'd still be with him."

"How do you know it wasn't a 'her?'" he asks with a cheeky grin.

I laugh and shove him playfully. "Shut up."

"Okay, so it didn't work out. But you don't even know why."

"That's the point."

"How are we supposed to not repeat the same mistakes if we can't learn from them?"

I sigh dramatically. "Not this conversation again."

"Well? Until you can convince me all this Procedure shit is for good, I can't drop it."

"We don't need to learn from our mistakes. You're just further proving my point that we should all get placed with a partner the government chooses for us," I say simply. "Fewer complications. Less heartache, therefore, fewer lessons to learn."

"I beg to differ. I'd even say that creates more complications."

"How so?"

"The government and evaluators don't know what's best."

My mind goes to Bree, and I feel myself falter for a miniscule moment. I entertain the idea of confiding in him about Em and Kate adopting Liam, but I hold back. It's none of his business. It's not my news to share.

"Can we talk about something else?" I ask.

"Did I strike a nerve?"

"No," I say, too annoyed to convince him otherwise.

Silence bounces between us until we reach the bus stop. It's eerily quiet out, the snow dampening surrounding sounds.

I shift from foot to foot, meeting his eyes. "You really don't have to come with me."

"I want to."

"But this bus goes in the opposite direction of your house."

His eyes dance with amusement. "I'm well aware of how the bus system works."

"So, you're gonna go out of your way just to backtrack and head home?"

"Yeah? You're not getting rid of me that easily," he says, tone light and playful.

"Suit yourself."

"Thank you. I will."

Streetlamps begin to flicker on in unison as the last bits of light completely drain from the sky. Now that we're not moving, the frigid air bites.

"It's cold," I complain as I blow warm air into my hands.

"That's typically how winter works." He's smiling, repeating my snarky words from our conversation on the bus just days ago.

My smile mirrors his. "You think you're funny, huh?"

"Nah. But I like that you think I am."

"I didn't say that."

"You're smiling," he says, calling me out. "Want my jacket?"

"No, thanks."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Will you at least take these?" He pulls out a pair of gloves from his coat pocket.

I wave him off. "It's okay."

"Come on. You're cold."

"You sure you don't wanna wear them?"

"I'm sure, Bella."

They look warm and worn. I cave. "Okay."

I accept them with a murmured thank you, and he watches as I slide one of my hands into his too-big glove.

"I like your ring," he says, noticing the red gemstone on my left hand. "Doesn't really fit, though."

"Fit my style?"

"Your finger." His lips press together in a soft smile.

"Yeah, it's a little big."

"Where'd you get it?"

"I don't know. It's not actually mine."

"A mystery ring," he muses.

"Yeah." I admire it for a moment before putting on the other glove. "It's pretty, though."

With my hands shielded from the cold, I glance around the empty street. We're the only ones out here now, and since the snow is falling faster, it's no wonder why.

"The bus must be running late," I say, peering past him. When I focus on him again, his eyes are already on me, like he never looked away in the first place. "What?" I ask.

"I just…" He's quiet then, and his expression is hard to read. Slowly, he moves so he's standing directly in front of me, but he doesn't utter another word.

My heart races.

"What's wrong?" I mumble.

He just shakes his head, eyes blazing with a silent plea.

I just don't know what he's asking of me.

"What?" I whisper again, mouth dry.

"Nothing," he says, just as quietly.

Snowflakes slant between us.

"The way you're looking at me doesn't feel like nothing."

His eyes light up for a brief second. "What does it feel like, Bella?"

My heart is beating so wildly out of rhythm, I'm sure he can sense it.

He takes one more tiny step toward me, and it brings us much closer than before. So much so that I have to look up at him to meet his eyes.

"Edward…"

So much so that I can see his throat bob when he swallows. "Yeah?"

"What are you doing?"

"I don't really know." I see a flicker of doubt in his eyes for a split second before he brings up a hand and brushes some snow from my hair. His gaze is tender as he murmurs, "You look so fucking cute right now."

I say his name again, but there's less conviction behind my tone this time. If anything, it sounds hopeful. Captivated.

"What?" he whispers, thumb grazing over my cheekbone, gentle and deliberate.

I close my eyes and lean into his touch. "I… I'm…"

"You're what?" His voice is soft and sweet. "Tell me you want this, Bella."

My stomach flutters, and I feel him shift closer. I feel his hand on my hip. His other hand in my hair, tilting my head back.

And then I feel his breath on my face as he says, "Can I kiss you?"

With my eyes still closed, I nod dumbly then hold my breath and wait.

His lips graze my forehead.

The hollow of my cheek.

The corner of my mouth.

And then, we're kissing.

We don't move.

We just stay there.

Body to body.

Lips to lips.

After a moment, his mouth slightly opens, so I open mine too. His embrace is soft, but insistent. Rough, but sweet. And when I feel his tongue barely brush mine, it's just enough to ignite a fire in my belly.

He kisses me like my lips are air, and he's desperate to breathe.

He kisses me like he knows me.

When he pulls me closer to him, a little rougher than before, I tug at his coat as much as I can with his gloves on.

I'm certain I've never felt this way before for anyone. If I had, I'd never let it go. I'd chase this feeling, this passion, this desire every second.

We kiss, and I want… more.

But he pulls away, just slightly.

"Come home with me," he whispers, voice laced with longing. "Please?"

When I open my eyes, he drops his hand from my hair.

"Go home with you?" I whisper, stumbling back a little. "Why?"

"Because I want you to."

My lips tingle and burn, and I can't look away from his mouth. Can't stop thinking about how good it just made me feel.

The snow picks up, and he takes off his beanie, shaking it out before putting it on my head. "Yep. Still cute," he assesses, a small smile on his lips.

Lights shine in the distance, and I instinctively step away from him.

It's the bus.

"I can't go with you," I tell him reflexively, now that I've somewhat snapped out of the trance.

"Why not?"

"Because…" I can't think straight. "Because we don't always get what we want."

"And what is it that you want?"

I have no idea.

I've never felt more confused and fascinated by someone in my entire life.

"Hang out with me a little longer. You'll still make it home before curfew," he says, as if that's what I'm worrying about.

But what I'm worried about is the pull I feel toward him that makes my mind hazy.

What I'm worried about is how I've just kissed a virtual stranger on the street where anyone could see.

What I'm worried about is that I want to do it again and again and again.

"I don't think I trust myself to stay longer," I tell him honestly.

The bus is closer now.

"But don't you trust me?"

"I think I do, but I just… I do need to go home," I tell him, and the bus slow-rolls to a stop right next to us.

"I'll ride with you."

I hold out a hand, pressing his chest. "It's okay. Please don't."

He gives me a long look. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No. Nothing is wrong. But the night was always going to end."

Disappointment floods his face. "It doesn't have to."

I pull off his beanie and hand over his gloves. "Thank you. I had…" Fun sounds strange. A good time also doesn't quite fit. "This entire time with you has been so—"

"Overwhelming?"

"Yes," I breathe out.

"Devastating?"

He's repeating the words from when I was describing my dreams earlier.

My voice catches in my throat when I say it for a second time. "Yes."

The bus doors hiss open. "You two getting on?" the driver hollers out to us.

"Yes," I say for the last time with more conviction. "Just me."

I hurry onto the bus.

I don't look back.

Despite the ache in my chest, I convince myself I'm doing the right thing.