Hello! I hope everyone is doing well! Also, Happy October, lovelies!

Thank you to everyone who continues to read and review (and favorite) this story. Your support means so much. Thank you.

HUGE thanks go to Fran, Mr G and Me, and Monica03 for all of their help. They rock. (Any mistakes you see are my own.)

SM owns everything Twilight.

Silence fills the car. The air is thick with tension, and a low, grating sound that I belatedly realize is coming from me as I grind my teeth.

Edward stares straight ahead, his focus intent on the road. When it's clear he's not going to address the issue, I clear my throat, shooting him a pointed look.

"Keeping your mouth shut won't erase the fact that I know you've been in my room. Explain. Now."

"I haven't been in your room."

"Oh, please," I bark, waving a hand in his direction. "That look says it all. What the hell, Edward?!"

With a sharp turn that slams me into the door, he pulls the car over on the side of the road, casting a dark look as the car behind us blasts their horn.

Edward tilts his head down, his focus on his fingers. There's another subtle cracking sound I hear underneath the faint purr of the engine, and I realize it's him grinding his teeth.

"I … was in your room. More than once."

I shudder, crossing my arms over my chest and twisting my face in disgust. "That's an invasion of privacy, you know? You can get in so much trouble."

Briefly, his lips lift as if he finds the thought amusing, but before I can comment on it, he speaks. "So I've been told," he murmurs. "By numerous people."

I balk at his phrasing, wondering just how many people know of his visits to my house. "Numerous? How many people is that?"

"It doesn't matter. All that matters is that I know it's wrong. I haven't done it in a long time, and I won't do it again without your permission, I promise."

I huff, still shooting him the most vicious glare I can muster. "Why did you do it? Why make me think I was crazy, asshat?"

"You're more perceptive than what I thought you would be. When you saw me … I never expected that to happen. I thought … well, I can't explain it. I don't know what was going on in my head."

"Well, that is something we can agree on, at least."

The slight shift in his seat and the way he quickly casts his eyes to and away from me tells me he does know, but I don't get the chance to press him for more.

"The other times … I snuck in because—" he pauses, looking extremely uncomfortable and slightly confused.

"Because?" I prompt.

"Because I was worried," he spits out in a rush.

It takes me a moment, but once the frenzied words click, all I can do is blink rapidly, my mouth hanging open.

He was worried? About me?

Internally, I roll my eyes at the question; it's obvious he was worried about me, but why?

Before I can stop myself, that's the question that falls from my lips, spilling into the air just as quickly as his admission.

It doesn't take him as long as it took me to decipher the words, much to my annoyance.

Edward's lips purse and he shrugs a shoulder, running a hand through his hair. "You're … important to me, Bella," he slowly says, almost as if he's confused by the admission. "I … care about you."

"Care about me how?" I question, wanting to know because his words sound awfully like a declaration that a friend doesn't make.

Strangely enough, I feel the need to return the sentiment because I do care about him. It's strong and intense, and I don't completely understand it, but it's there.

While I wait for his response, I feel my palms begin to get clammy.

Am I nervous? Anxious? Apprehensive?

Do I want him to say that he likes me as something more? Or are these feelings because I only like him as a friend?

I'll admit he's cute and I like his company. He's the only one that gets my sense of humor and can match my sarcasm and wit without a blink.

He's kind of like a male version of Alice.

Except I don't want to kiss Alice to shut her up.

So, I guess that means I do like him?

Man, being human and having emotions sucks sometimes.

Why can't I be one of those robot people that has no feelings and only focuses on the logical and scientific aspects of life?

"It's doesn't matter," he says, breaking into my thoughts. "We're … friends," he continues, the word coming out slowly, as if he's not sure it's the correct term to use. "I wanted to help you."

My breath leaves in a whoosh, and I realize I had been holding it. I'm a confusing mixture of enraged, puzzled, and relieved at the use of the word, friend.

It doesn't sound right, and it certainly doesn't feel right.

Then again, what do I know?

I don't even know my own feelings sometimes.

The urge to bang my head against the window is strong; maybe then I'll be able to think straight and get my shit together.

Although, I wouldn't be feeling this way if Edward hadn't come here.

Screw him.

Taking a deep breath, I attempt to control the shakiness in my hands and the hammering in my chest. When I focus on Edward, I notice his face is twisted as he ponders over something, and it makes me wonder if he feels just as confused over his phrasing and feelings.

It would honestly serve him right, considering what he's done to me.

My eyes narrow once more. "Friends don't sneak into each other's houses and sing to them while they're sleeping," I hiss through tight lips. "Weirdos do that, Edward. Psychos that want to kill you do that!"

He winces, murmuring something unintelligible under his breath. "I know. But I wanted to help you. It wasn't right; believe me, I know, but I felt … compelled."

Once again, I'm baffled. "Why?"

Without opening his eyes, he smirks. "Because beneath your tough exterior, you're kind of nice to be around."

I huff, ignoring the strange tingle shimmering through my body. "How long were you sneaking in? How do I know you're still not doing it?"

"No," he answers at once, wincing once more, though I don't know why. "And I only did it three or four times before I … stopped. As for your last statement, trust me. There's no way I can sneak in without it being known," he grumbles, looking displeased.

I think back, recalling all the times I had dreamt about the song chasing away my nightmares and carrying me off to more pleasant dreams. There had definitely been more than three dreams with that same haunting melody in them, and I tell him so.

"I recorded some songs and left them on your iPod."

I spit out a curse, slamming my hands on the dashboard, the sticky slapping of flesh meeting vinyl filling the air and making him wince. "You touched my shit, too? Jesus, Edward, there are boundaries!"

He attempts to joke, forcing a smile. "So, sneaking into your room isn't as upsetting as touching your things? Noted."

I keep my glare in place, not finding anything about this situation even remotely funny. "Take me home. Now."

Throwing myself back in the seat, I cross my arms and turn my head to look out of the window.

"Bella—"

Throwing up a hand, I instantly silence him. "I don't want to hear it. Home. Now."

When he speaks, his tone is tentative and repentant, something I've not heard from him in quite some time. "You said you couldn't go home, and I think if your parents don't want you there—"

Jerking my head in my direction shuts him up, his teeth snapping together audibly. "Don't you dare presume what my parents want or don't want. You'll be lucky if my father doesn't find a way to set you on fire and destroy the pieces," I hiss.

"Why would you come to that conclusion?" he quietly asks, shaking his head.

For a long moment, he stares at me, not saying anything. My patience starts to quickly thin, and before I can explode, he speaks.

"How long have you been going to La Push?"

"Wha—? What does that have to do with anything?"

He shrugs a shoulder. "I'm curious."

"Long enough," I reply tersely. "Never mind my father; take me home before I find a way to set you on fire, cretin."

Amusement flashes in his eyes, but it's gone within the next blink. "I believe you would," he muses. "I think we should go somewhere and talk about this, okay? There are some things I need to explain."

"No, I don't want to hear your excuses."

"Bella, please. Just give me twenty minutes."

Call me crazy, but I'm morbidly curious to find out his reasoning for not only sneaking into my room but messing with my things. A knee-jerk reaction of mine would just say he's a creep, and I need to get as far away from him as I can, but on the other hand, I know there's something more.

At least, I'm hoping there is.

"Fine. You have ten. Starting now."

Before I'm done speaking, he's pulling out onto the road, his foot pressed against the gas, while simultaneously texting on his phone.

"What the hell!" I shout, grabbing ahold of the bar above my head. "What are you doing? Watch the road!"

"I'm texting Alice. Just in case; with our history, I doubt our talk will go well."

"Where are you taking me? Why can't we talk here?"

"I'd rather do it in a more comfortable setting. I'm taking you to my family's house in Forks. Some of my family members are there; when I'm done saying my piece, one of them can take you home."

"We were doing just fine, control freak."

The corners of his mouth lift in a grin. "You're right, how remiss of me. However, since we're on our way, we might as well continue, wouldn't you agree? Or perhaps I can pull over, and we can be interrupted by a well-meaning officer."

I blanch at the idea, thinking that, no doubt, it would be Deputy Mark who would find us. He would get a thrill that the Chief's daughter was pulled over on the side of the road with a Cullen boy. Knowing him, he wouldn't hesitate to exaggerate or embellish, and by the end of the week, Edward and I would be married with a kid on the way.

"I think that's still you being a control freak, but fine," I mutter. "Continue."

Edward attempts to make small talk several times as he drives toward his house. I ignore each effort, still fuming over everything I had learned.

While the gesture is kind of sweet and something I could see myself doing in dire circumstances—and have done for Rose in the past—I still don't like it.

I feel like my privacy has been invaded; who knows what Edward had seen or heard when he was in my room, let alone snooping through my things.

All my private thoughts, feelings, and expressions feel as if they've been exposed, torn apart—scratched raw for him to see.

The thought makes me nauseous, and instinctively, my arms curl around my midsection, as if the act alone can keep the sick inside of me at bay.

"Are you all right?"

In lieu of a response, I merely continue to glare, and he takes the hint, leaving us in silence once more.

My mind reels in the quiet, going back over every little thing that had been moved or misplaced. Was that me or him?

There are so many questions, and only he can give me the answers.

I hate that if I want answers, my only option is to talk to him. Right now, all I want to do is punch him and be by myself. They're not unreasonable requests, but rather challenging ones.

"I know you're mad—"

I snort. "Way beyond mad," I reply with a laugh. "Pissed off beyond extreme measures is more like it. No, wait, not exactly. I don't think the word for how mad I'm feeling has been invented yet."

"I'm truly sorry."

"Are we talking now or later? Because I'm all for hearing your excuses now," I say, raising an eyebrow.

He doesn't say anything more, pressing his lips together as his foot presses harder on the gas. My hand jerks toward the handle on the door, and I'm reminded of the position I was in earlier; my white-knuckled grip on the door as he sped down the street.

Honestly, I'm bat-shit terrified of the car crashing. Not so much due to his negligence—okay, maybe I don't trust him a little—but mainly due to the other drivers on the road. Underneath the worry I feel, there's a sense of freedom and dare I say it, happiness.

Following that, I think about our time at the movies and the café. It had been enjoyable.

Easy.

As if we had been hanging out and teasing each other for years.

Now, all of the fun I had today seems ruined. I hate that I sound like an angst-ridden teenager or some hopeless woman in a rom-com, but it's the truth … and I hate Edward even more for it.

When Edward pulls into his driveway, I sit up straighter in the seat, one hand reaching for the door handle while the other rests on my seatbelt.

I'm ready to hash this shit out so I can go home, or at the very least, get away from the stalker at my side.

Seconds after he parks, Edward looks up and groans, his face twisting as if he's in pain.

The question of whether or not he's okay is on my lips, ready to spill into the air, but I hold it back. Right now, he doesn't deserve my sympathy.

Unbuckling my seatbelt, I ready to exit the car, but pause as Edward lays his cold hand on my arm.

"It was a mistake bringing you here, Bella. Can we go somewhere else to talk?"

Wrenching my arm away, I step out of the vehicle. "No. No more putting this off; we're talking here and now. And once I hear your bullshit excuses, I'm gone," I spit out, slamming the door behind me as I march up the porch steps.

"Bella, wait, please!" He calls, his eyes flashing toward the house with a sick look. "Don't—"

"I'm tired of your control-freak ways. Are you coming?"

Without waiting for a response, I open the door and immediately regret the decision.

On the couch, Rose is straddling Emmett, his hands on either side of his face and her shirt off, leaving her only in a bra—which looks like it has seconds before it too, is discarded.

Emmett has his arms wrapped around her, pressing her to him with a grip that should be painful, but she doesn't seem to mind.

In fact, based on the way she's grinding into him and sucking his lips off, I'd say she enjoys their position a little too much.

"Are you kidding me!" I shout, immediately squeezing my eyes closed and slapping a palm over them. "What the hell, guys—this is a communal area! Use a bedroom for that shit!"

Rose gasps, and I can hear the sound of a muted thump followed by the frantic rustling of clothing. Every so often, I'll hear my cousin squeak and huff in frustration, muttering to Emmett about how he needs to help find her clothes.

I shudder and back up, trying to find my way out of the house without opening my traumatized eyes.

"Emmett, what's wrong with you?" Rose hisses.

"I was distracted," he defends, a mixture of repentance and pride in his tone.

"Bella, I'm so sorry. I thought … well, that's not important," she tells me, her voice coming closer.

A soft touch on my arm has me jerking back, and I bump into the wall as a result. But I pay no attention to the pain; I'm more concerned about where her hands have been.

"You can open your eyes. We're dressed now."

Firmly, I shake my head. "Nope. I'm not going to. It could be a trick; besides, I'm probably blind now, anyway."

Rose sighs in irritation. "You're such a child sometimes, Isabella! I wouldn't lie to you."

Knowing this to be true, I lower my arm and carefully open one eye at a time. While her words are true, they are dressed, it's not too much better than what I had walked in on.

Their clothes are rumpled and wrinkled, not to mention Rose's shirt is inside out. Her face is flushed, and hair mussed, lips red and swollen from their make-out session. I see several small bruises already popping up on Rose's chest and grimace, turning away.

"I'm glad you two are a couple now but come on; you both have bedrooms and other rooms for privacy. In the living room, really?"

"I was thinking the same thing," Edward adds, stepping beside me and shooting his brother a disgusted glance.

Rose's cheeks darken, and her head ducks down slightly, but that changes once Emmett steps behind her, pulling her flush against him, whispering something in her ear.

She giggles, folding her arms around his as they wrap around her waist. She then leans her head back to gaze up at him through her lashes.

Despite the sickening display, I'm genuinely happy for her. She seems comfortable in her own skin and practically giddy, which is something she deserves.

Still, I don't have to see half-naked writhing on her boyfriend.

Or the two of them groping each other as they make out.

Like they're doing now.

Slapping my hand over my eyes, I back up, feeling Edward placing a steadying hand on my lower back. There's a moment of gratefulness at his actions because I don't want to fall on my ass, but that's erased as I remember the reason we came here.

Edward is a creep, and he's creeping around my shit.

Jerking away from him, I causally peek through my fingers, looking for the door. Once I spot it, I take one step in the right direction, closing my eyes once more and trying not to grimace at the wet suction sounds coming from in front of me.

"Okay," I say loudly. "I'm leaving now. I'll be scarred for life, so thanks for that. I'll be sending you my therapy bills if I don't lose myself in alcohol and death metal."

"Bella, that's not funny," Rose reprimands.

"Neither is seeing or hearing your family member enthusiastically making out with their boyfriend."

I can't see it, but I can feel the heat of embarrassment ripple from her onto my own cheeks and ears, and I smirk.

It serves her right.

Turning, I intend to walk out of the door with my dignity intact, but that fails as I run into the doorframe. Faintly, I hear a snicker and whip my head around toward the culprit, narrowing my eyes. His humor immediately fades, and solemnity washes over his features.

"Come on," he softly says, placing a hand on my shoulder and guiding me out. "We'll go somewhere private and talk."

Nodding once, I head out, hearing light footsteps follow us.

"Talk about what?" Rose calls out.

"Creepy McCreeperson and I have some things to hammer out, and then I'm going home," I pointedly reply, giving Edward a hard stare.

"Did Uncle Charlie and Aunt Renee text you?" From the corner of my eye, I see her retrieve her phone and frown at the screen. "They haven't texted me back," she murmurs to herself before looking at me. "If they haven't texted you, you shouldn't go back. They have their own things to discuss."

I wave away her concern. "They won't know I'm there."

Rose snorts, planting a hand on her hip. "We both know that's a lie. You can't be stealthy or hide anything to save your life."

"Oh, I'm better at it than you think. But don't worry," I respond, cockiness seeping through my words. "I know someone I can ask for expert tips to be totally undetected."

Edward's eyes immediately fall to the ground, and a hand shoots to the back of his neck as he kicks at the ground.

"What's she talking about, bro?" Emmett asks, a light gleam appearing in his eye.

Edward's answer comes through gritted teeth as he glares, silently daring his brother to say something else. "Nothing."

Rose looks between then speculatively, her lips pursed and head tilted as she studies us. Whatever conclusion she comes to, she obviously doesn't like, if the disgusted expression she's sporting is anything to go by.

"Ugh, maybe that's not a good idea. Why don't you stay here and I'll take you home later?"

"No, thanks. I have no desire to see you two sucking face. Don't worry, though. We'll be close by."

Starting toward the tree line, I intend to find a nice, quiet, and peaceful spot, hoping that a beautiful view will diminish the outrage I feel toward Edward's stalking.

Edward jogs in front of me, and I jerk back. His hands rise in front of him, a gesture that tells me he's not going to try to touch me.

"Actually, I was hoping we could go somewhere … else," Edward suggests, grimacing as he looks over at his brother.

Based on the look on his face, I have a feeling whatever is going on behind me isn't something I want to see. Keeping my neck still and my gaze forward, I raise a questioning eyebrow at Edward.

"Oh? Where would we go then?"

"Just … trust me, please?"

I can't help but snort at this. "That hasn't gotten me very far lately."

A glimmer of humor appears in his eye, but wisely, he doesn't comment. "I know, but please go with me on this one. I think this conversation would be better suited in private, where no one can interrupt."

As much as I hate to admit it, he's right. This conversation would be suited in more secluded quarters, where no one can walk in on it and blow up.

Namely, Rose.

However, there is another problem with this idea.

"How will I get home afterward?"

"I texted Alice, remember?" he immediately answers, the set of his shoulders softening as he realizes I'm considering this. "I'll tell her where to pick you up, and she will. I would say no questions asked, but I'd be lying."

It's a good plan, and I know Alice will get me out of there before I can blink, not to mention, beat the shit out of her brother if I ask her to … and that'll be something I have to get on video.

So, all in all, it's a good plan to me.

"Fine."

Once we're in his car, he speeds away, breathing an audible sigh of relief with the distance between us and his house. The tension from his shoulders eases, and a somewhat relaxed expression crosses his features.

That changes quickly, however, as I chuckle.

"What?" he asks, sparing me a quick glance before looking back at the road.

I know his attentiveness is a ruse, considering I've seen him not pay attention to where he's driving for longer than five minutes, but I say nothing.

"It's just … funny, that's all. It was like a switch had been flipped; you were tense as all hell and then relaxed, the further away we got."

He grimaces, resting his left elbow on the door and running a hand through his hair, tugging on the roots.

"You weren't very relaxed either. We were on the same field back there. Besides, I don't need to see him doing things like that ever again."

I hum in agreement. Seeing Rose in that position was enough to give me nightmares while resisting the urge to puke in my mouth. Granted, I'm glad she's happy and exploring her relationship, but there are certain things I don't need to see.

Coming back to Edward's words, it makes it sound as if he's caught Emmett in that position before. It makes me wonder if Emmett is more of a playboy than he lets on, or if he's just his normal, typical, teenage self.

If it were anyone else, I would automatically assume Emmett is using Rose because she was unattainable, and he felt the need to be her knight in shining armor.

After having witnessed his words to her about loving herself and recalling his protective side toward her, I know that's not the case.

Besides, knowing my cousin, I'm sure she's brought up their past histories and knows everything she needs to.

"I get it. I don't know if I'll recover from what I saw," I say, theatrically shivering.

Edward smothers a laugh behind the back of his hand. "I'm sure you'll survive."

"Of course, I will. That doesn't mean I can't drag it out for as long as I can."

He mumbles something unintelligible, but won't repeat it no matter how many times I badger him. After the fourth time asking, I simply let it go and try a different route when I see we're making our way back to Port Angeles.

"Uh, why are we going to PA? There's not a quiet, private area anywhere."

"I know a place," is all he says, maneuvering the car into a dark parking garage, pulling into a space near an elevator. "Come on."

Cautiously, while trying to tamper down the apprehension bubbling in my gut, I follow him out of the car and into the elevator.

He presses the top button, and for a moment, I think I see his right hand twitch toward me, but he quickly shoves both hands into the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders hunching inward.

As we slowly ascend, he sends me quick looks from the corner of his eye. We stare at each other in tense silence, the air growing heavier the longer we remain connected. Instead of the awkward, angry, and uncomfortable vibes from before, the energy feels different somehow, like the jolt you get from dragging your feet across the floor and touching someone.

At my side, my hand twitches, wanting to see if I would feel that same spark.

Would it be stronger?

Would there be anything there in the first place?

The four, tan, and steel walls around us blur, and I stumble backward, my head feeling light and disconnected from my body. I grab hold of the cool, thick handle that's behind me, steadying myself.

"Are you okay?" Edward asks, stepping forward and holding his hands out as if he's ready to catch me, should I fall again.

"Yeah, fine. I just got light-headed."

He frowns, a pensiveness overcoming his features. "Do you need something to eat? To drink? We can go somewhere more public if you prefer."

I snort, feeling more like myself, and feeling a sense of relief as I notice we're getting closer to the floor Edward selected. I don't know why I get hyper-focused on him like that, but it is starting to piss me off. I need to remember why I'm here.

Because Edward is a creep…

"I don't even know where we are. But, no, I'll be fine if this elevator ever goes up."

"Yeah, it never seems this long," he murmurs, jamming his hands back in his pockets and stepping away toward the opposite wall.

It doesn't escape my notice that he doesn't look away from me this time, and I find myself locked in his gaze.

In an effort to keep those weird feelings at bay, I clear my throat and ask him the question I've been dying to since we entered the PA. "Where are we, exactly?"

"So you can tell your cousin?"

I nod once, kicking myself for not thinking of this earlier. But to be safe, I'm sure Alice knows where to find us, considering his earlier words.

Impressed, he smirks. "My apartment. As I said earlier, Alice knows where we are," he says, confirming my thoughts. "Don't worry; you're safe here."

I feel like there are missing words to his sentence, and something he's definitely not saying, but before I can process that, I'm drawn back to his earlier statement, my mouth dropping open in shock.

"Did you say your apartment?"

His chin dips toward his sternum while one of his other hands pulls at the collar of his shirt. A nervous burst of laughter escapes him.

"Uh, yeah. It's the only place I could think of where we could talk without being interrupted."

"Wait, really?"

He cocks his head to the side, his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "Yes, really. I have my own place. I don't know why this is shocking. I've told you this before."

I breathe out an astonished laugh while my eyes bulge from their sockets because he did tell me. I guess I just didn't believe him. He's always been at his parent's house every time I've been there, so I just assumed he was lying to me. I mean, if you had your own place, why wouldn't you be there all the time?

On the other hand, it's not like I've been with him twenty-four-seven, so I wouldn't know if he was there all the time either.

Thinking back to the glimpses I saw in his room, I remember it being sparse as if no one was staying there. The mattress was stripped bare, and there were no personal items at all from what I could see. Granted, I didn't go in completely, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out it was merely there for show.

I'm not sure why I didn't just realize he wasn't lying. Considering what I've learned about him from others and Edward, himself, I shouldn't be surprised by anything.

I'm sure he has more crap than everyone in my family combined and more money than I could dream of.

"So, this is it? Your apartment?"

Slowly, he nods, looking mightily concerned about my sanity, and honestly, I'm right there with him. I'm concerned too.

"Well, technically, it's the building."

"Really? You don't live an elevator? You're not an elevator bat?"

His eyes narrow slightly, and he shakes his head. "No. I'm not living in the elevator, but I do live on the top floor."

I snort a laugh. "Figures."

His eyes narrow further, but before he can say anything, I continue. "Why? Would you bring me here? To your apartment? Why do you have an apartment?"

The elevator dings before he can answer, and in a sweeping motion, he gestures for me to step out before him. My first reaction is to gape at the sight of the hall; it's not at all what I expected. While it's not dingy and downtrodden, it's not exactly rich and pretentious, either.

The walls are painted a creamy beige, with white crown molding along the middle of the wall. Various photos hang between the doors, showcasing random spots of the city and state.

Soft, warm lighting fills the hallway from antique Victorian sconces spaced throughout. It's very homey-feeling, giving off a completely relaxed vibe that makes me feel instantly at ease.

Edward seemingly looks pleased with my reaction and leads the way, going at a slow, easy pace.

In his hand, he swings a set of keys around his finger, the jingling loud in the empty hallway. As if the noise upsets him, he starts to speak lowly.

"To answer your questions, I bought this apartment a long time ago with the money I received from an inheritance."

"Inheritance? From who? How much money do you even have?"

He smirks. "Enough."

"To last several lifetimes, I'm sure."

He purses his lips, a pensive expression coming across his face. "Yes," he tells me, gazing at me head-on. "Several lifetimes and then some."

This time, it's my time to smirk because I knew it. Despite feeling incredibly smug, my heart thunders in my chest, the dull roar echoing in my ears. For that split second, I feel the overwhelming urge to run as fast as I can because that's what I should be doing.

However, one look into his golden eyes has me rethinking everything.

I won't leave, because he owes me answers, and no matter how much I piss him off, I know he won't hurt me.

I feel it.

"Mmhmm. I thought so. So, why do you have an apartment anyway? You're always at your parent's place."

"Not always," he amends. "And just because I have my own place, doesn't mean I don't miss being with my family sometimes. And I … needed a place to escape after I returned to my family when I … wasn't myself. I felt terrible for the way I acted, so I came here."

"To punish yourself?" I ask, guessing his motives.

His lips set in a grim line. "Kind of. There were times I felt like I didn't deserve to be in their company due to my past behavior. And others because I just wanted to be myself without judgment."

I roll my eyes at this, and he hurries to continue. "You don't have to say anything. It's probably nothing I haven't heard from my family."

"Good, saves me time."

He chuckles once but continues. "As for bringing you here, well, it was a spur of the moment decision. Not even my family comes here. They respect my space and allow me to have my privacy."

My feet tangle together, and I stop, pointing toward the elevator behind us. "If you'd rather not have me here, that's fine. I'm curious as hell to see your apartment, but I won't force myself inside your place."

Slowly, Edward shakes his head, his lips pursed in a frown as bewilderment fills his features. "No … I'm okay with it. You … you should—you can be here."

He's obviously perplexed by his acceptance at having me in his home, but as long as he's sure, I'm going in. The minute I feel I'm no longer welcome, I'm out of there.

We come to a stop at the end of the hall, and I realize there are only eight doors on this floor. It makes me wonder just how big these apartments are if there are so few doors.

"Do you stay here all of the time? Is that why your room at your other house was empty?"

"You've been in my room?" he questions, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I've seen into your room. I haven't invaded your privacy," I say pointedly.

Reprimanded, he turns and hurriedly unlocks the door, swinging it open.

Excited to see what his personal space looks like, I step inside. Instead of sweeping around the room, my eyes are drawn to a very familiar painting hanging on the wall above the fireplace.

It's my painting, the one I had at the festival, hoping to get enough for Jess so she could go to the school that would help her stuttering.

"Is that—?"

Edward's hand shoots to the back of his neck, roughly massaging the skin there. "Yeah. I—I liked it. I liked the reason why you were selling it. It was unselfish and pure of you. I know selling your creations is personal, but you—"

Wanting to hear no more, I fist the lapels of his jacket and use it for leverage to pull me up, firmly planting my lips on his.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

See you next time! Stay safe!