Thank you for the lovely reviews! So sorry about the delay. Hope this one is as enjoyable and informative as last!

Thank you!

After taking his time to pack the equivalent of a Doctor's surgery into a backpack and burdening his gorgeous shoulders with the weight, we lock up and head in the direction of the cliff-tops. Despite his warnings, it's not as strenuous as he makes it out to be. The weather is nice, a cooling warm day, enough for sunnies and crap hair and like usual, I can depend on him not to critique such choices.

To put it simply, though we mainly stay silent for the hardest part of the climb, I've never felt more relaxed. So while he does in fact lead the way for the most of the afternoon, leading me into the correct route, I'm happy to follow on behind and I'm really enjoying the push. It's been a long time since I've been exploring and I feel like a child again, just as amazed at all the colours coming back into nature.

Spring meant new beginnings and I loved that.

'So,' I say quietly after far too many hours of comfortable silence. I can't say why we have been so silent but it's probably due to the fact I can't stop thinking about earlier. 'Daddy issues?' I ask from behind making sure that when he turns to frown in question, my gaze is wandering aimlessly anywhere that isn't near him.

He sighs but he hardly sounds annoyed, more challenged. 'We're still on that subject are we?' He's pulled his lips to the side to hide his smile but I know it's there.

I shrug my shoulders. 'Sore subject, okay. Why don't we start with something easier...'

Everything about his expression shows he is pleasantly amused but I'm actually feeling not only incredibly shy but also a little guilty when I make my next conversation starter.

'Where are you from? Exactly?' I ask sheepishly. Known him four years, only just start to realise he's not local. Great one. See I know he travelled from Chicago for college but I know he's not from Illionois, too.

No matter how much he told me it was 'home'.

'We are chatty today!' He laughs, pausing at a tree to wait for me to catch up. His breath is a little ragged and his jacket is tied around his waist ready if needed with his famous grey t-shirt on display. Or rather, famous chest details on display. Weirdly, we're wearing similar things. Except I'm in brighter colours and have dressed like I live in Florida. But any warmth, I'm going to soak up like a vampire! Or not a vampire. Whatever- sun is good.

'We are…' I agree, almost forgetting my attempt to get to know him over the beauty of his figure. Honesty is good, I think. 'That and we've never really had this conversation…'

He's holding his palm out to me as my feet meet dodgy ground. I take the offer and graciously, as I were lightless, he helps pull me up over a dodgy root.

And sadly, he drops me down almost immediately after.

'You've been too busy.' He accuses, fighting to both look at me and not look at me.

'And you too shy.' I accuse back.

He scowls and shakes his head but he's smirking.

'So go on, where are you from?' I push. He rolls his eyes and stops again to make sure I'm not far behind but in stopping I bump into him.

Dammit Cullen keep moving, your body is hard as hell. But also hot as hell. What am I complaining about?

'A city.' He answers quickly. I'm irritated.

'Look, I'm trying to buddy you here, help me will ya?' I complain, stopping to cross my arms over my chest. He seems a little surprised.

'We aren't...friends?'

'Of course. I mean. Eh? You probably more so,' in the attempt to fix myself I'm making it worse and he's looking a little surprised. Of course he's my friend. My longest friend. Why am I over complicating this? 'I'm not fantastic at friends.'

I'm overpowered with this threatening vomit inducing anxiety when I think of how lame it sounds to my own ears. Cullen's surprise has turned into something else, maybe flattery. He looks a little pleased? Maybe?

'You're too harsh on yourself.'

'We've been sharing a home for three plus years and I've only just realised you're not American.' I say, laughing at myself.

He's thinking of a reply but instead shakes his head.

'I think I'm British.' He says after a long pause, sounding particularly British when he says it. I don't know if he's trying to make me laugh because it feels effortless and like a child, I'm desperate for him to repeat the accent.

'Because you like to be the head of a household or because you're a ruthless invader?'

He rolls his eyes but we both laugh. Jasper would be proud of me for that joke. He's waiting for me again, his hand jutted out at an angle ready to offer. It's weirdly sweet. But then anything he does is going to be sweet with a face like that.

'Think?' I point out deliberately changing the course of my thoughts.

'We travelled a lot,' If his tone doesn't make it clear enough, I've already realised that this isn't 'travelled' in the cool sense of the word. 'He refuses to confirm where it was. He doesn't want me to favour one country over the other. Whatever that means.'

See what I mean? Daddy issues. Severe ones, too.

'Oh-kay?' It's hard not to feel like this is some joke.

'God's child belongs to the earth and not the soil where they were planted'' He quotes, shaking his head to hide his bitter smile.

He's smiling for my benefit but his family and he aren't close. I've never seen him smile bitterly, I don't think, I'm not sure I like it. But it's okay because when I catch his face again I see his smile has changed to a grin as he watches me daringly jump over another awkward path of rocky grass.

'Oh…well…that's kinda nice, I guess. Why do you think you're British?' Child of the earth is bound to be one of those nicknames I tease him senselessly for. I need to not do that.

It's like a puzzle game, guess where Cullen comes from. He could be British I suppose…but his teeth are perfect and he's not a snob…though he is a prude.

Huh, British is a possibility.

'The sounds are familiar and sometimes I want to correct pronunciations if I hear it differently.'

It's immediately clear he's been doing this with my sentences since day one and without even meaning to I feel a little over warm again.

'English is also the language I speak the best. It would be insulting if I were Italian and couldn't speak it very well.'

I like hearing him talk, even if it does sound like a crazy mystery. He could read me the stock exchanges backwards and I'd love to hear it.

'Hold on….you know more than one language?' I'm not surprised, I'm impressed. Typical Cullen being impressive.

He laughs out loud now, shaking his head in disbelief: 'You really don't listen at all.'

I smirk back but try to defend myself a little. 'I'm listening now.' I promise and just like that, it's the key to salvation. He opens up like a key to a lock.

'A fair few. I know the basics of many but am only fluent in English. Latin coming in close second, Italian next probably.' He bites his lip as he racks his head for something else. He's such a nerd. But like the pathetic learner I am, I jump.

'Prove it.'

'Scusi?'

'I said prove it!'

He bursts into another giggle, his grin is taking up his face but he's paused for me once again, though not through necessity. Like he wants to stop, like he wants to read my expression.

'Cose vuoi che dica, bella-signora?' The sounds roll off his tongue like he's practiced them all night long. I love it, it gives me chills.

'Say it again!' I demand enthusiastically.

He sighs before turning away, his grin wide. 'You don't know what I said, do you?'

'No idea.' I promise confidently. 'Teach me!'

'Teach you?' I swear sometimes he thinks I'm just this cynical bitch. I'm really not, I love languages!

'Yes! Give me a phrase!'

'What like?'

'Anything!'

We've stopped. He's leaning against a tree, thinking, thoughts cast ahead.

'Okay; una degna causa.'

I stumble a little over the pronunciation, sounding a bit like an idiot but he seems to be thrilled and even when it turns silent and we're walking on ahead, I make sure to commit the phrase to memory. In fact, we get quite a way ahead before I realise we've fallen into that comfortable silence again. After four years of silence, I'm thinking a bit of conversation is better.

'So a city?' I perk up, still repeating the phrase in the background. He doesn't seem surprised I've worked my way to this subject again.

'A city.' He confirms. 'Loud, busy and lots of people. I think we must have travelled through Europe because I can remember France well and Belgium better.'

'How old were you?'

For someone who was raving about how great he was for staying out of my way, I'm genuinely surprised to find myself hanging off his every word. But then I've always loved a good story.

'No idea.' He says shrugging, he's paused again, waiting for me to follow him up. 'I must have been walking, talking a little perhaps.'

'And then you moved?' I guessed.

'Straight south, stayed in Vienna for less than a year before spending the majority of my days in Italy.'

'Why don't you just call yourself Italian then?' I ask, 'If you've spent so much time there?' If you make the language sound like an offering of sex from a single phrase?

Shit, I'm blushing again.

He shrugs. 'You've been in this state for years would you say it's where you're from?'

I think about shaking my head but Columbus, Ohio is a whole nightmare away and I'm happy where I am now. 'Yeah I probably would….'

Where I am now is my home. The people I was closest to made it home. Saint and the Kid included.

'We're vastly different, Miss Platt.'

'How long were you in Italy for?' The questions keep coming and the flow is natural, he's as eager to answer as I am to ask.

'Several years, maybe a decade before abandoning everything I knew and heading to the Land of the Free!' His words are suddenly flawless American, more American than my smart mouth.

'And you met Edward?'

He shakes his head. 'Oh no, I knew Edward from years before. His parents travelled a lot, too. I used to babysit sometimes before they told my father they were returning home…' He casts his eyes down to his trainers like it's a sad memory for him, but the smile is consistent.

'They were friends?'

His laugh is tight. 'Business associates. I also think Elizabeth felt sorry for me what with a lunatic father and no mother. I saw them every summer until I came to live with them….'

I'm suddenly aware I know fuck all about Edward too.

'That's going to need some depth.' I tease.

He's finding the route far too easy, he must have done it recently, I'm lagging behind him but he doesn't complain.

'At sixteen I begged my father to leave Italy. He refused so I ran away.'

'From another country?!' Man, this makes my attempt look pathetic.

'He knew where I was and followed three months later…' There seems to be a lot of contempt there. I'm burning up with curiosity.

'So you've been here ever since?'

He shakes his head. 'Everywhere I've gone he's always been a few steps behind. Here is just one of the many places he's followed me too.'

'Why did you settle?' I ask, almost kind of... worried? Cullen was no child, it had to be weird his father still following him around. And yet...He's far more intriguing than I ever came him credit for.

'Because.' He says shrugging. 'I finally made friends. Or thought I had, thanks.'

I laugh though I really shouldn't, it's hurting my chest, and we've walked for ages. To the point, I've had to stop. My legs hurt and I need to catch my breath. How the hell does he do it?!

'Are you okay?' He asks frowning.

'Will be if you give me piggy back up the rest of the hill.' I say, wiping the sweat from my forehead and grinning a loopy grin.

He rolls his eyes but stops where he's standing and kneels to the floor. We must not have far to the top then.

'Dude, I was joking.'

But he leaves the offer there.

'Go on, before I change my mind.' He sighs.

Okay, I genuinely didn't think he'd actually do it…

I grab the top of his shoulders, nearer his neck and leapfrog onto him. He holds my legs, wrapping thick hands around the knee before hoisting me up so I'm at a better position. Now I'm off the ground, my legs throb.

Far too much walking. But I can't say I'm not pleased with the result.

'Thank you.' I giggle, locking my arms that little tighter around his neck.

If he's struggling, he never lets on. Instead, he names as many things as he can in Italian as we pass them, flowers and trees or whatever but I'm hanging onto to my 'una degna causa', repeating it vigorously. In barely twenty steps, we stop at a beautiful, flat little opening. There's a few more trees but once you get past them, you're looking to the beauty that is the world.

I love the water and the moment I see the sea, my mouth moves for me and I gasp. He's suddenly remembered I'm still on his back and gently lowers me to the ground, his hands guiding the sides of my body to ensure I don't fall.

It's strangely hot.

He moves towards the sea first, resting against a tree as he looks proudly to the water, the light of the ocean sparkling up against him through the trees. There's a mismatch of dark and light. Light on his face, into the background, dark falling on his body, in the trees, everywhere.

I'm suddenly inspired and grab my camera before he moves.

'Cullen?'

'Hmm?'

The moment he turns, I click the button, capturing the moment forever. He acts as if he's been shot.

'Hey, you're meant to be photographing the sights, not me!' He insists.

'You're part of the sights.' I say shrugging. I look back to the photo and I already know how I want to change it, I wasn't to make the landscape even more open and him darker, daring almost like some kind of predator.

Now I'm really excited.

'Watch your step.' He warns as I cross the grass to stand beside him.

The cliff edge is scarily beautiful. Like it makes you want to jump into the water and swim for the rest of the evening. He sits down carefully, dangling his long legs over the edge though his body is sturdy. I take a careful step next to him and do the same.

It makes him a little nervous- I'm far more likely to fall than he is, but he keeps his mouth shut. My heartrate is singing when I look over the edge at my trainers, all ruined and in desperate need of a scrub, way above the water and the rocks.

He unzips his backpack and passes me a water bottle. 'Hungry?'

'Nah.' I tell him, the edge of the cliff is lucky enough to be graced by the sun and I'm greedily soaking up even more of its heat. I couldn't be more content.

'Thanks for this…' I murmur quietly, patting his leg. It's a very natural move which is a little scary considering I'm awful at comforting people.

'Don't be ridiculous.' He says gently, alligning his leg against mine for a second before pulling it away.

'So you were explaining about the Masens?' I continue.

He smiles. 'That was it really, I stayed with them while studying for college and once I got in, I moved across the country.'

'And Edward followed?'

He sort of shakes his head.

'I think his father always wanted more for him but Edward's his mother's son.' I picture it in that moment, what I imagine to be his mother playing the piano and such. 'He wanted music, art and love, his father wanted logic, science and maths. When I was there I think I balanced the system.' He sighs, neither out of sadness nor jealousy but a weird state in-between.

'No other siblings?'

He shakes his head silently. 'They wanted to but... couldn't...'

'Oh.' It's the only thing I can think to say

'Probably part of the reason why they love children so much.' He shrugs and casts his blue eyes to me. 'Serves as a reason for the over-protection, too, I guess. Not that Edward has ever been a fan of it.'

He tries to lighten the mood with a fond smile but both of us are cast on the sad image of the three of them.

'I can't imagine Edward having daddy-issues.' I joke, elbowing him lightly and smiling like a truck driver. He shakes his head with a smile.

'That's because he doesn't. He and his father are very close, they're just...different. Sometimes they see eye to eye, more often they don't but they still love each other…very much.'

I can't detect the tone in his voice. Maybe it is jealousy?

'And that's not the same for you?' I guess.

He gives a small nod of his head before throwing himself backwards and lying on his back in the grass looking up to the trees. It's getting to late afternoon according to the chill in the air but I'm at perfect ease. I lay back too but I turn on my side to watch him. I've pulled my knee up so it could easily be grazing his rib. His arm is around me almost, gently stroking the threads of grass near my shoulders as if he wants to break them off. He doesn't. I'm trying not to flirt, really I am, I don't even know I'm doing it. I just want to be close to him, hear his words, breathe his breath….touch that gorgeous body….

'What about you?' He asks.

'You know about me.' I answer and it's true, he does.

'Maybe, but it'll be nice to hear something other than my own voice.' He chuckles though the sound is mute.

'I'm pretty sure I killed my father.' I say, smiling despite the subject matter He looks up to me and frowns, looking a little alarmed.

'He was in the garden painting when my mother and I were arguing about something. I threatened to sleep with the gardener and next thing we know he'd had a heart attack.'

His frown turns to disbelief and his alarm softens to ill-timed amusement. 'That doesn't mean you killed him, Es. Heart attacks are common.'

'I know that, maybe try telling my mother.' I mutter.

He pulls himself onto his elbows. 'She blames you?'

'I guess she kinda has a right to…I did sleep with the Gardener.' I pretend to laugh but it's not that funny. It makes my stomach hurt, like it can't deal with the weight of my heart leaning on it. He's trying to think of the right thing to say. I'm shit at conversations.

'How old were you?' He prompts.

This is exactly the kind of answer I know he'll hate.

'Fifteen. A bit of a tearaway, too.' I confess

He winces. 'Fifteen?! That's a little young isn't it?'

It's easier to relax not thinking about my family, there's just tension and confusion lying there….

'I was thirteen when I lost it…it was two days before my fourteenth birthday.'

He's making a horrified face, clearly uncomfortable. He wants to ask but doesn't want to offend. I know his expressions well enough to predict them. So I nod as permission for him to go ahead. 'It couldn't have been…easy…?'

It's typical for his words to fail him. I smirk.

'It wasn't too bad. It got better as I got older. At fifteen I was loving life. So was our gardener.' I tell him with a wink but part of me cringes in mortification. Why are we even discussing this shit?

'How old was he?' He asks gently. I wonder how badly he's going to judge me but I guess if I make him hate me a little it'll be easier to not be attracted to the guy.

'The guy I lost it to or the Gardener?' Same person, what does it matter?

He pauses. 'Both…'

'Are you sure you want to know?' I warn him. He takes me seriously, thinks for a moment and finally nods.

'Roughly about seven...seven and half years older, maybe.' Seven years and four months to the dot. Twenty years of age.

His mouth falls open. He immediately starts to choke on whatever he had in his throat. As expected, he was doing the math before me.

'Twenty?!' He repeats as if I've sworn against every fact of science. I nod and bury my face in my awkward fringe.

'When you were thirteen?!'

'Yes!' I say laughing out of sheer awkwardness.

He's frowning. 'What happened?'

I know what he means…he's wondering why on earth a thirteen year old would have sex with a twenty year old. Or fourteen, whatever you're thinking.

I gently push his shoulder. 'Why do guys always think that?' I scold him, forcing a laugh from my chest.

He's looking even more confused.

'You think that something must have gone wrong for us to enjoy sex, why can't we like it just as much as guys do?' I ask.

'At thirteen?!'

I shrug. 'I consented, all was fine.'

As if perfectly timed, he turns his face to avoid sharing his alarmed expression but gathers composure fairly quickly. He's aching to make the statement, that obvious, horrible statement, but we both know he won't.

So to answer, yes it was illegal but times have past, let's move on. Immediately.

He blushes and looks away from me. I don't think he's going to answer me until he does.

'Well, I guess it's more of a guarantee that the guy will…' he tumbles over the word, trying to decide what one to use and burning a deep pink, I'm deeply amused.

'Come?' I offer, looking hard into his wrought expression. The Adams-apple at his throat bobs and he smiles awkwardly.

'For women, it's different?' He finishes softly but he's clearing asking for my confirmation.

'It doesn't have to be.'

'Huh?'

'Women don't have to come in the act of sex for it to be an enjoyable night.' I tell him.

He's listening intently despite his blushing cheeks betraying him. It's a cute conflict. Like he's in the very middle of man and boyhood. The very moment before the crossover.

'Of course, it's nice when you do,' I add deliberately, though I'm not exactly the most experienced in that matter. In fact, most unexperienced which is largely unfair if you think about how many people I've slept with? Surly statistics would be on my side but nope. Not once. 'It's not the end of the world when you don't. It doesn't necessarily ruin the fun.'

Normally ruins your impression of the person though.

'Is it common not to?'

He's got his eyes cast away from me again, his voice low as if he's trying to pass off that he doesn't care. When he clearly does.

I know for a fact I shouldn't be teaching the guy anything but his sudden interest has sparked an interest of my own and I'm desperate to impart my wisdom. I love how open minded he is.

'Me personally or women in general?'

He doesn't answer, just smirks so I go ahead.

'Women in general, it's probably about fifty-fifty judging from my rare girly chat. Some do, some don't, the older you get, the more your body wants to 'help you out'…me personally…not a lot…at all.'

Never. Even with his face turned away from me I can't help but notice his eyebrow raised in surprise. I'm really laughing now, I should be embarrassed but I'm not, I couldn't be more comfortable.

'Why do it, then?' which essentially translates as; 'why are you such a slag'

I sigh. Did he not listen to a word I said?

'An experiment I guess. Whose to say it's my body, what about if it's the length, or the girth of the lack of know how. I'm debating whether it's my fault or the male anatomy.' I shrug but he's laughing with me.

'And your results?' He asks.

'There does seem to be some correlation between the size of someone according to how much fun we have that night. But that's just me personally, I'm not speaking on behalf of all girls.'

His laugh is tough, he looks a little white in the face.

'But apparently you can get just as much pleasure from a micro-penis so I wouldn't feel self-conscious.' It's more of a tease, I know he hasn't got a micro-penis, I could see that from the size of his package the other day, even if I couldn't see the thing itself…it looked hefty.

He blushes again, a furious red highlighting his cheeks. Burning up even more so when I wink at him. His jaw falls open in horror.

'I haven't got a micro...'

I'm rolling about I'm laughing so much, doubled over in stomach toning laughter. I never predicted him to be so self-conscious.

'Oh ha-ha. Very funny. It's not like I have to ask you the same thing, is it!' He says, pretending to be grumpy though I can see him smiling.

Now my mouth falls in shock. He's just confirmed that he was in fact looking at my vagina…and he's done so in a light-hearted manner…What on Earth?! Because he technically won that bit of banter, I pinch him lightly in his lower ribs, expecting him to jump up but he doesn't squirm like I want him too.

'You've got to decide what you want, either you're going to be shy and innocent or you're going to be confident and playful. You can't have it two ways!'

'I can't help it!' He retorts playfully. 'I don't think I am shy but according to you...'

'You're blushing Dr Cullen...' I say, gently dragging a fingertip against his soft, shaven skin stroking the colour there. He catches my hand and holds it above his cheeks to stop me. The fidget of his face suggests it tickled.

'Just because I'm blushing, Miss Platt, doesn't mean I'm innocent.'

If you heard that loud thud, it was the sound of my heart dropping from pure excitement. God this guy is a turn on!

His smile is daring but his eyes sweet. I can't bear to look at him anymore, I'm melting in his face so I pull myself away from his gaze and go back to the edge of the cliff.

He's watching me, perched again on his elbows as he watches me fumble about on pointed feet. 'Be careful…'

'I'm always careful,' I say, leaning my legs further over the edge. He's getting panicky again and moves closer to me.

'I'm sure the Levonorgestrel debates that theory…' He's kind of talking under his breath but I caught it.

'That wasn't me that was the piercing. And I'm clearly paying the price, aren't I!' I poke my tongue out at him and snigger but he's more focused on where I'm wondering.

I lean a little more over the edge, kicking at the cliff face with my trainers.

'Careful, Esme…'

'Who decides to get a piercing there anyway? Could you be more vain?!'

He's not joking anymore, his face is serious and he watches my step, pulling himself properly, moving almost animal like towards me.

'Please…' He says slowly, eyes on my shoes.

'He wasn't even a polite, didn't even see if I was okay after-'

When I said I'm always careful, I was clearly lying. I've never met someone more careless than me. And so when I come to think of it later, I'm really not surprised that one second, I was staring at his face and the next I had lost my footing.

A tiny kind of part yelp part scream left my mouth as I felt myself almost falling.