AN: I hope everyone is having a safe and happy holiday season!

Chapter Five: Come In With the Rain

BPOV

It's raining.

Again.

It's supposed to be the summer. Why the hell is it raining?

"Are you going to sit and mope around all day?" my mom asks, getting my attention.

I look up from my phone's screen to spy her standing in my bedroom doorway. She looks amused by something, and I reason she's amused by me. I must look a miserable sight, just sitting here at my bay window, looking out at the pouring rain like I'm some lost puppy.

"It's just rain, Bella."

I heave a sigh. "I had plans."

"With Edward?"

I try not to read into the fact that she mentions Edward first. "Jake," I say.

She steps into the room. "So the rain's thwarted them then?"

"He isn't willing to come all the way here in this downpour," I tell her. "I mean, I don't blame him. The roads must be a nightmare."

She places a hand on my shoulder. "Are you just missing your friends?"

I huff. "Angela gets back next week," I say; "but Alice is gone for the rest of the summer, and who knows when Jasper gets back?" I try not to sound sour about it, but I am. Angela's gone to visit her grandmother in her small hometown downstate, Alice is currently touring Europe and Jasper's enjoying time with his extended family in Texas. I'd know where Ben was if he ever bothered to reply to texts.

I look at my mom, making a decision. "Can I go to Ohio?"

The question surprises her, and it's clear to see. "You want to go home?"

I love that Ohio is still home even if we've been in Seattle for two years already. "I guess I just want to see the family."

"But, Bella, we left for a reason."

"I know, Mom," I say calmly. "It's unlikely I'll ever forget. Believe me."

She squeezes my shoulder. "Look, if you want to go; maybe it's a good idea," she says thoughtfully. "Maybe you, me, and the boys can go for a few days." She doesn't need to say that my dad wouldn't join us. He's too busy, and we're about done trying to get him to choose us over his work these days.

He keeps saying he's pushing hard now so he can get a promotion. The last promotion, to make him a name partner of the parent firm. Then, he says, he'll be able to choose his work hours. I'm all for it, sure, but I'm not going to hold my breath. I did this to us.

Something about the rain, I guess.

"It's definitely easier for us to go to them, than for them to come to us," my mom says, almost talking to herself. "I'll make some calls." She drops a kiss on the top of my head. "You okay?"

I nod.

Even if she doesn't believe me, she doesn't say so. She just squeezes my shoulder once more, and then leaves me to stare out at the pouring rain. My melancholy goes on for another minute before I'm reaching for my phone and sending an unexpected text.

Beaufort: You busy?

I've barely put my phone aside when it buzzes with Edward's reply.

Edythe: Just got home from training. What's up?

I don't reply immediately, because I'm not really sure what I want to say or do. Really, I kind of feel as if I just need to see him.

Edythe: Beau?

Edythe: Want to come over? I can send Felix.

Under normal circumstances, I'd put up a fight. But not today.

Beaufort: Okay.

Edythe: He'll be there in ten. Can't wait to see you!

I smile because I can't help it. I think maybe I'll end up telling him certain things today. Maybe he needs to hear them, or maybe I just need to say them out loud. I wonder how he'll feel about all of it. Jake was understanding enough, if not a little abrupt about his acceptance. I think that was the moment I realized he was probably the one for me.

Somehow, I doubt Edward will be the same, and I can't determine if that's a good or bad thing.

It takes me a moment to rise up, and get ready. I grab my coat and my phone, and then head downstairs to wait. As expected, Felix arrives exactly ten minutes after Edward sent his message. I say a quick goodbye to my mom, and then race through the rain towards the waiting car. Felix reaches behind him to open the back door, and I practically jump in and close it behind me. It's a miracle I don't break something.

"Evening, Miss Bella," he says.

"Hi, Felix," I say. "How are you?"

"I'm good, and how are you?"

"Good, good," he says.

We don't usually talk past the formalities, so it took a conversation with Edward for me to find out that Felix and Heidi are actually married. I want to ask Felix how he feels about Edward getting his driver's license. Sure, he would probably end up driving Peter and Liam around now, but it had to be weird, right? Edward found it weird.

We get to the Cullen house in next to no time.

The rain isn't as heavy here as it was at my house, but I still race towards the porch as the door opens before I can even think to announce my presence. I skid to a stop and come face-to-face with a grinning Edward.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi back."

He gestures with his head for me to enter, and I move past him. I kick off my shoes and take off my coat. Edward takes it from me, his smile steady.

"Have you eaten?" he asks.

I shake my head.

"Hungry?"

"Not really," I tell him. "You?"

"Nope."

He's lying, I can tell. If he just trained, then he's probably starving. I watch as he puts my coat in the closet, and then gives me his undivided attention.

"Is something wrong?" he asks, his smile wavering. "You don't look happy to see me."

"I am," I rush to say. "Of course I am," I add. "I'm just having a strange day."

He puts out his hand, and I immediately take it. He leads the way through the house and up the stairs to his room. His fingers are cool, which isn't surprising. They always are. There is something different though. Ever since that night at The Lizard Room, he's been acting unlike himself. It isn't anything bad; it's just different. I'm not sure what to feel about it, and I haven't yet worked up the courage to ask him about it.

His room is warm and smells like him. He lets go of my hand and heads towards his large bed. He flops down on it and then pats the bed beside him. "Come, sit," he says. "Talk to Edythe."

I laugh, because I have to. He has such an old lady name, and he's using it to its full advantage.

Maybe today isn't the day then. Why add to the downpour outside with my own torrential downpour? I move to sit down next to him, setting my phone aside. "How was training?"

"Fine," he says with a shrug. "It was routine."

I look at him. "Would you be against my coming to watch, one day?" I ask.

His eyes widen and I don't miss it. "Really?"

"Really."

"All I do is swim, Bella," he tells me. "It's not that exciting."

"I'd just like to see."

"Then, sure," he says with a smile. "But bring something to read or something - it's deathly boring."

"I'll remember that."

We descend into a conversation about the strangest things to do when you're bored. It's an easy, simple conversation I didn't even know I needed. Trust Edward Cullen to know.

Almost an hour later, I head downstairs to the kitchen - by myself. I'd be irritated if it weren't my own fault. I practically stomp my way down the stairs.

"Oh, hi, Bella," Esme says, catching me off guard as I enter the kitchen. I didn't expect her to be in here. "Did you want something?"

"I lost a bet, and now I have to get him some Gatorade and make him a sandwich," I tell her. "He was halfway to making a distasteful sexist remark, but I set him straight. He might end up with a bruise, so I wouldn't be alarmed if you see it."

She smiles knowingly at me, as if to say that's my girl.

"I don't know where to start," I admit, because the kitchen is huge, and Heidi is usually around.

Esme points to things as I go, but doesn't offer to help. I wonder if she's actually that kind of mom. It's different to how mine is; she would have probably made the sandwich already.

"Oh," Esme suddenly says; "he's allergic to peanuts."

My eyes widen, as I set down the jar of peanut butter. "I did not know that."

"He should have told you."

"I think he was actually kidding about the sandwich," I confess. "I was planning on making something borderline inedible anyway. I mean, who in their right mind would eat a peanut butter and pickle sandwich?"

"Stranger things have happened," she tells me with a smile. "I craved some weird things when I was pregnant with the twins."

We've never really talked before, and it's oddly settling in a way. She has this calmness about her that's deeply comforting, and I realize that what I needed today is found in this house. This house that isn't my own.

I wonder if Edward feels calmer elsewhere as well.

Esme's words make me think about what Edward was like as a baby. He was probably adorable and, just, squishy.

"Like?" I ask curiously.

"Loved bananas," she says. "With everything. It was actually disgusting. I don't know how Carlisle could stomach it, really."

I giggle. "I hate bananas."

"So does Edward."

I grin. "It's just another thing we have in common."

Esme regards me for a moment and, before it gets uncomfortable, she speaks. "You're good for him, you know?"

"Pardon?"

"He's always been so serious; so hard on himself, and I think that being friends with you has helped him ease up slightly; helped him accept his own self. It's easy to forget he's just turned sixteen."

"He's not a fan of his birthday," I relay. I don't know if I'm fishing or not, but Esme seems to oblige me whether she knows it or not.

She presses her lips together. "No, he's not," she says softly. "It's nothing new. He's always been like that," she clarifies, shaking her head, her smile soft and warm. "When I first met him, he told me - "

"Wait," I cut her off. It's rude, I know, but I can't help it. "When you met him?"

She stares at me, and I stare back.

"Oh," she sounds, her eyes widening in what I can only describe as panic. "He hasn't told you."

"Told me what?"

"Bella?"

I shake my head, my thoughts running away. "You're not his mom?"

Esme's eyes narrow. "I am his mom," she says slowly; "I just didn't give birth to him. I didn't realize he hadn't told you yet."

"Hadn't told her what?"

Our heads both whip around to look at the door, where Edward is standing, frowning slightly. He looks so much like a little boy that all I want to do is wrap my arms around him and never let go.

"Edward," Esme whispers, and realization dawns on his face very quickly.

"You told her?" he asks, his eyes on Esme.

"I didn't mean to," she rushes to say. "I thought - "

He cuts her off. "I can't believe you told her."

"Edward - "

"Jesus, Esme!" he snaps, his eyes darkening with his anger and hurt. "I mean, I know I'm not your son, but you don't have to go around boasting about it!" He looks at me, stricken, before he disappears from sight.

I remain stunned, my own eyes wide and my mouth open. What on earth just happened?

"Bella," Esme says, and I look at her. She has unshed tears in her eyes, and oh my God, what did I just do? What did I do? "You should go and talk to him. I doubt he wants to see me right now."

I don't know what to say to her, so I just nod and then go looking for Edward. He isn't in his bedroom, which isn't really a surprise. Where I do end up finding him isn't much of a shock either.

I'm also not surprised that the Cullens have an indoor pool, and I'm definitely not surprised that Edward is sitting at its edge, with his feet dangling in the water.

He doesn't look up when I approach, but I know he notices me from the stutter in the otherwise steady motion of his legs in the water.

I kick off my own shoes, roll my jeans up as high as they can go - which isn't far at all - and sit down next to him. I don't try to say anything because I can't think of anything. What do I even say? What should I say?

I'm just going to sit here until he's ready. I don't know if he'll want to talk, but I'm not going to force him to, if -

"My mother left when I was four."

I look at him. His voice is barely a whisper; I'm surprised I even hear him.

"On my birthday, actually," he adds. "During my birthday party." He reaches for my left hand, and I give it to him. "I remember her telling me she forgot to buy candles, and she was going out to buy some. Later, my father found the candles in the pantry, and she just never came back. I haven't seen her since."

It's the first time I realize what he meant when he said he wanted to be more. He wanted to have been enough for her to stay.

"My father went looking for her," he tells me. "I went to stay with my grandparents in Toronto while he looked and, I guess he must have found her, because he came back divorced. I also figure that she signed her rights to me away, or whatever, because Esme was able to adopt me when they got married. Apparently, my mother was dissatisfied with her life with us, and she went in search of something more."

I don't ask him questions. He's talking, and I'm listening, even if I'm slightly distracted by the way he's playing with my fingers.

"After that, we lived in Toronto," he says. "I think the house in Vancouver was too much for my father to handle, and he wanted a clean break." He looks at me for the first time, and his eyes are red. Despite the fact that they aren't related, his eyes resemble Esme's.

There's pain there.

"I liked that house. It was home, you know?" He shakes his head. "We used to walk on the pier, in the bitter cold, and just watch the waves. She took that from us; she took that from me. I didn't handle it well," he admits. "I didn't understand that she wasn't coming back. My whole life, it was just the three of us, and I just couldn't understand how she could just leave and never come back.

"But then I figured it out. It was me."

My response is instant. "Edward, no."

"It was," he presses. "I wasn't enough for her."

"Edward, please don't say that."

"But it's true," he forces. "I know it, Bella. Believe me, I've gone to the counselors; I've had all these people telling me things, but I know it. Deep inside, in my heart, I know I wasn't part of her plan, and she left. She just left."

I stop his fingers and hold his hand between both of mine. I don't even know what to say to convince him, because he sounds so sure.

"I didn't talk for a while," he confesses. "I asked for my mommy until I was blue in the face and my throat was raw, but she never came. And then I just stopped asking at all. I think it's why my father's so afraid of being my father. I've been known to go silent when big changes happen. I'm not - I don't - "

I squeeze his hand.

"It's why he was so hesitant to tell me he was in love with Esme," he says. "We lived in Toronto until they met. Her father's from the Czech Republic, and my father found him when he was visiting. They struck up this deal to merge the companies, Cullen and Novak, and he met Esme when they were in Geneva, negotiating the merger. I think they fell in love almost immediately, but I don't know..." he trails off. "Like I said, I didn't handle it very well."

He takes a deep breath. "When the new firm was formed, my father and his siblings split up to run the new parent locations, as did Esme's. We came here, my uncle went to the Czech Republic, Esme's sister went to Washington, her brother to New York, and my father's sister stayed in Toronto." He sighs. "So we became a family, I guess. Here in Seattle. I hated it at first. Like, hated. But then I started swimming, and that all changed. I liked the purpose; the distraction, and my father allowed it because I wasn't silent anymore.

"I met Rose first. We were already kind of friends when Emmett picked on her. I may or may not have pushed him, and the three of us have been, uh, inseparable friends since." He stutters on the word, but I don't comment. "My father and Esme got married in 2001, and I guess I accepted it for what it was."

I want to ask him what he accepted, but I don't.

"The boys were born the next year, and I guess my father finally got the family he always wanted." His hand is clammy, and he takes it back to wipe it on his jeans. He doesn't give it back. "She used to sing to me, you know?"

"What?"

"My mother," he says. "She was so talented, with dreams that were beyond my father and me. But I have this memory of her singing to me. It's this song I sort of half remember. I can hear it in my memory, but I can't actually hear it, you know?"

I nod because I do know. I realize for the first time that I've never actually talked to him about my music. Not that it feels like a part of me anymore, or anything like that. When I told Eli I wasn't going back, I wasn't kidding. It's been a topic of contention between my mom and me.

She just doesn't understand.

Music can't be forced. You have to feel it, and I just don't anymore.

"She picked her dreams over me," he tells me. "I didn't ask about her after I started talking again, and I think it worried my father. But then, one day, I heard her on the radio." He looks at me again, and his eyes are softer, warmer. "She's not half bad, you know? It's what she picked, so I guess she had to be successful at some point."

"Is she?"

"I don't actually know, but I kind of wish she'd achieved more," he tells me. "It would make it more worth it. It would make it - " he stops. "Hurt less." There's another beat of silence and my heart just breaks for him. "Just, she should have been more so that leaving us would be for something."

I want to tell him something - even if it's a useless fact about bees - to make him feel better. I want to tell him anything, but the words don't come

He reaches for my hand again and puts both of our hands in the water. It's cold and comforting, and our hands swim circles around each other. His fingers brush mine sometimes, and it makes me feel warm from the tips of my fingers right to the pit of my stomach.

"I play piano," I tell him after a moment.

His eyebrows rise. "You do?"

"Well, I did."

"You stopped?"

I let out a tired breath. "I just wasn't feeling the music anymore."

"I get that," he says. "Much to my father's distaste, I bought a guitar last year, and then I taught myself to play, but I haven't in a while."

"We should start a band," I say, jumping slightly in my excitement, and splashing water on the both of us. "Sorry," I say.

It's too late though. He's got that look of mischief on his face, and I figure out what he's going to do a beat too late. I barely get my scream out before we're both in the water, fully submerged.

"Edward!" I screech when I come up for air, but the little fish is already halfway across the pool. "Oh, you."

He's grinning madly, and the sight of it stills my heart. The tears are gone, and here is a boy who deserves to laugh and smile and be happy. How dare anyone try to take that away from him? How dare she?

I splash him, and he laughs. It's the sound to end all wars, I'm telling you. Music to my ears.

"Is that all you've got?" he taunts, and I start towards him.

He backs away, and it looks effortless. Curse him and his invisible fins.

I splash him again. I reason he allows me to catch him. Otherwise I would have tired myself out. I reach out and dunk him, and we play fight until Esme comes to find us. If she's surprised by the fact that we're in the pool; she doesn't say so. She just tells us that dinner's ready, and sets out a pair of towels.

Edward gets out first and rings out his clothes while they're still on his perfect body. The way his clothes stick to him makes me worry about my own. My bra's probably going to show through my shirt, and it definitely isn't the prettiest one I own.

"Come on," Edward says. "I've got a sweatshirt for you."

We head upstairs all wrapped up in towels and try desperately not to drip water onto the floor. While Edward's in the shower, I change out of my wet clothes into some of his old Breaking Dawn Swimming Club gear. He claims they're the only clothes that will fit me.

They smell like an old him.

When he comes back out, he's dressed in his own tracksuit pants and a Breaking Dawn long-sleeved shirt. He looks at me for a long time, and I'm not so oblivious not to notice that he likes what he sees. It makes me blush, which makes him blush.

"So," he says; "dinner?"

I nod.

"Did Esme already take your clothes to the dryer?" he asks.

I nod again.

"Hey, Bella?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

I look at him. "For what?"

He holds out his hand, and I take it. "There's no one thing," he says seriously. "Just, thank you, for being here; for staying; for being my friend. For being you."

I squeeze his fingers because what can I say?

"Food?"

"I'm starving."

His answering grin fills me with such warmth that even the gloomiest Seattle weather couldn't beat down. I worry, of course, that this is wrong. All of it. His hand in mine. His smile matching mine. His clothes embracing me.

But why does it feel so right?

I don't get to watch him train until the end of July. His training has been increasingly intense. I mean, it already was, but he's gearing up for something big, and he's focused.

I never really understood it until he told me. He wants Olympic Gold. It's his big dream; his ultimate goal, and he's dedicated his life to it. He's realistic enough to accept he may be lucky enough to make the USA team for London 2012, but the Gold could be a four years further from that.

He's so endearing, that I want it all for him.

All of it. And more.

With Angela back in Seattle and Jake suddenly remembering that he does, in fact, have a girlfriend; I split my time among the three of them. Well, when I'm not at home acting like the teenage drama queen my mom thinks I am, or the big sister from hell that my brothers believe I am.

I don't know what they complain about, really.

Edward and I don't discuss his mother again, and I don't really get around to telling him about Ohio. I want to, but I just can't do it. I guess I lost my thunder or something like that when I learned Esme isn't his biological mother.

I went home that night and looked up his mother on the Internet. I found a brief page about her on Wikipedia, though it made no true mention of her personal life beside the fact that she currently resides in Nashville. I don't know if it's too vindictive of me, but I kind of wish she'd failed as a musician, and she ended up broke and alone.

I mean, just the idea of little Edward constantly asking for his mother until he fell silent breaks my heart. It tears me apart. And it just amazes me that anyone could dream of leaving him. I mean, I'm all for realizing your dreams, but never at the expense of your kid. I don't know the situation, sure, but it's still so heartbreaking to think that, so many years later; it still affects him.

He wants to be more. She ruined him, and she probably doesn't even know it.

"Am I picking you up?" Edward asks.

I laugh into my phone. "How else am I supposed to get there?"

"Swim," he says.

I look out my bedroom window at the pouring rain. It's been going for almost three hours, and it's affecting my mood. Maybe Edward can tell, I don't know.

"I'll be there in ten minutes," he says.

"See you soon," I say, and then hang up.

Just in time to catch Alice's call.

She sounds bubbly even through the phone, and it lifts my spirits in a heartbeat. I miss her something fierce, and I kind of need to talk to her about that night at The Lizard Room. I won't go into specifics, but I need some perspective.

It's been something that Edward and I have ignored, but it happened. Well, it almost happened.

And I wanted it to.

Edward is the person I want to talk to about it, but I can't. How can I?

Alice talks my ear off until Edward arrives, and I promise her I'll call her later in the week as I head downstairs. I grab my coat, pocket my phone, and then race towards his waiting car.

I slide into the passenger's seat and am immediately met with a heart-stopping, patented, Edward Cullen grin.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi back," I say, matching his grin.

"Are you ready?"

"Are you?"

"Always."

I pat his forearm, and Edward stares at my hand for a moment. Long enough for me to take it back and make it awkward.

Edward clears his throat, shifts the car into gear, and we set off. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asks after a while.

"Ask about what?"

"Whatever is bothering you right now."

I sigh. "It's raining."

"That's not it."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to tell you."

He glances at me. "Bella."

"Eduardo."

He lets out a laugh. "Are you trying out nicknames then, huh?"

"I am," I tell him. "Has anyone ever called you Eddie, Ed, anything like that?"

"Emmett calls me Eddie when he's trying to be funny," he informs me. "He knows it annoys me."

"Good, because you don't look like an Eddie at all," I conclude. "Or an Ed, for that matter."

"For as long as I remember, I've just been Edward."

"No nickname from Rosalie?"

He laughs out loud. "Oh, definitely," he says; "though it's usually some kind of swear word. I'm, more often than not, called her little bitch."

I laugh as well, and the tension seems to dissipate. I can't quite put a finger on why there is tension.

We get to Edward's swimming club quite quickly. I imagine it has to be close to the Cullen house if he has training at four-thirty in the morning during the school week.

I think he likes the summer just because his training times change from the ridiculous to the borderline ridiculous. The times might have changed, but the duration hasn't. He claims that the new swimming season is going to see another change to his regimen. Increased training, and a changed nutrition plan. His body needs to go up a level to compete with those older than him, and he has plans for it. He's willing to do everything to reach his dream of Olympic glory. He's driven by something.

I don't know if he'll ever talk about it again, but I believe that it's to do with his mother. Maybe he's doing it for recognition. Maybe he wants her to see him; to see that he's doing it all without her.

That he didn't need her for him to be successful.

"Are you going to be okay?" Edward asks me, as he holds open the glass doors for me.

"I'm just going to sit and watch, right?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Unless you want to join in?"

"Oh, God no," I rush. "I have asthma."

He doesn't look convinced.

"I do," I tell him. "I really do."

"If you say so, Bella."

I bump his shoulder with my own. "Just go and do your whole fishy thing while I think of a nickname for you."

He smiles. "Let me show you around quickly, introduce you to a few people, and then you can sit in the stands and watch the magic happen."

I thought I'd be uncomfortable at the Breaking Dawn Swim Club, but they're really welcoming. His coaches, his club mates and the rest of the staff. They're all quite happy people, sporting knowing smiles.

Because it's Tuesday, Edward's afternoon training session consists of an hour of dry-land training before he even gets in the pool. It looks like it hurts, all the core exercises and muscle-strengthening.

The facility itself is amazing. It's probably the best in the city, which isn't really far-fetched if Edward is training here to reach his Olympic dream. I can't imagine Carlisle Cullen picking anything else for his son.

When he does get ready for the pool, and his tracksuit comes off; I can't stop myself from staring. Jessica was right. His abs are to die for. It's actually not fair. He's lean and muscular, and it doesn't look as if he's finished growing at all. He'll get taller, and he'll get stronger, and I wish with all my might that he'll get faster too. He deserves it.

They swim for ages. Edward swims for longer, which really leaves me open to a ton of questions from his club mates. He warned me that not all of them are his friends, though they're all friendly enough.

Seth Miller and Jane Muir are the closest to him, and I make a note to tease him about his trios later.

They don't know him in school because they're both going to be seniors next semester. Seth goes to Jamestown, and Jane's from St Jude's. They're both prestigious private schools, which means they probably know things. But Edward trusts them, which makes me trust them too.

I'm sitting in the bleachers with Seth and Jane when Edward finally gets out of the water.

Jane checks her watch. "That was fast."

Seth checks his watch as well. "Do you think he skipped some?"

"No," Jane says automatically. "He would never. He just swam it faster."

"Aww," Seth coos. "He can't wait to get back to her, can he?"

Jane smiles at me. "You're really good for him, you know?"

I do know, but I'm still curious. First Esme, and now Jane. "Why do you say that?" I ask.

Jane drops her voice. "He's just happier, I suppose," she says as if it's a secret. "Less serious. He's always been so serious, as if he's holding everything inside. He doesn't do that with you, does he?"

I shake my head. "No, he doesn't."

Collectively, we look Edward's way. As if he can sense our eyes on him, he lifts his head and grins. He waves with his left hand as he removes his swimming cap with his right.

"Just look at him," Jane says, and I do. "I've never seen him like this. It's adorable."

Seth doesn't say anything because maybe he already knows. He knows about Jake, and he knows who we both are.

I look at Edward, and there's something to be seen. Jane's right, of course. There's something lighter about him, but I'm not convinced it has anything to do with me. I tell her that, and she regards me for a moment.

"That smile never used to be there," she comments.

I shake my head. "It was always there," I say. "He just wasn't showing it."

"Hmm."

"It's true."

She looks thoughtful for a moment, as if she's sizing up the situation as best she can. Then. Like, seriously, then. "It's no wonder he likes you," she says, and my head snaps towards her.

"What?" I blurt out.

She looks amused. "Oh, don't look so surprised, Bella," she says; "Anyone can see it. Have you seen the way he looks at you?"

I blink. Wait, what? I look at Seth for some help, but I receive none. He says something else instead, and it really doesn't help.

"Nobody talks about a girl that much without feeling something," Seth says, and I frown. What are they even talking about?

Edward does not like me. He doesn't. There's no way. I mean, he's Edward Cullen.

I'm Bella Swan.

And I have a Jacob Black.

There's no way.

When Edward finally joins us, Jane's words are still sitting at the back of my brain, but I'm able to remain present enough to enjoy the short time that Edward and I spend with his friends.

I listen as they briefly discuss getting some dinner, but Edward feigns weariness. He wants to go home, and he's taking me with him. Apparently, we have some things to discuss that he doesn't yet know about.

Edward disappears for a while, to shower and change, so he can just have dinner when he gets home. He's probably starving. Hell, I'm starving after just watching him swim. When he gets back, freshly showered and looking like something delicious, I find myself feeling a little lost. His hair is damp, and his cheeks are flushed.

He's beautiful, really.

"I know," I suddenly say, and he looks at me curiously. "I'll call you, Nemo."

"Like the clown-fish from the movie?"

I grin at him. "That exact one, yes."

He considers it for a moment. "I like it," he concludes. "As long as it has nothing to do with what you think of my swimming."

"I think you're brilliant, Edward."

"Comparable to what, exactly?"

"My idea of what a fast swimmer looks like," I offer, and he smiles knowingly.

"I see you're getting on with those two rascals," he says, his tone of voice giving away his affection for both Jane and Seth. "I hope they haven't been telling you embarrassing stories."

My mind goes back to the idea that Edward possibly likes me, and my mouth goes dry. It could be true. The Lizard Room is indicative of that. But then what does that say about my feelings? Do I like him? No. Not like that. There's no way.

"Are you ready to go?" he asks.

I stand.

He puts out his hand and, for the first time, I hesitate. If he notices, he says nothing. He just waves his arm in a wide-arced gesture, and then we're off. I follow him out of the training center and out to his car. I climb into the passenger's seat while he puts his bag in the trunk.

I feel odd, and I can't describe it. It's almost as if Jane's words have tilted my world off its axis. There are things that I knew to be fact, and now things are different. I was perfectly happy existing in my little fantasy bubble where Edward and I could be secret friends without any consequences.

But.

Edward plays music as he drives, which limits conversation. It's a good thing too because I don't know what to say to him right now. He doesn't ask me if I want to go home. We go straight to his house, which is the norm and always has been. I told him this day was his, and he's going to take all of it.

Heidi's ready with Edward's monster dinner, and just pizza for me. It's a testament to how at ease he is around me. I'm just a part of his routine now. I'm no longer a guest; I spend so much time here.

We sit at the breakfast nook in the kitchen to eat, and it's always fascinated me how much he can eat. How much he has to eat.

So. Much. Pasta.

We make easy conversation until it just isn't easy anymore.

I bring it up because maybe, yes, I might be a drama queen deep down. I just, I guess I just have to know for sure. I can't unhear Jane's words.

"So, uh, your friends might have mentioned something to me," I start, suddenly wary of bringing this up. It's been bothering me, and I was convinced that we were the kind of friends who could talk about things.

"What?" he asks, looking slightly concerned.

"I don't know if they were just teasing, to, you know, mess with you, but, while you were finishing up, they might have mentioned that you talk about me quite a lot."

"That is true," he says carefully before he takes in a deep breath. "What exactly are you asking me, Bella?"

"They were kidding when they said that you, possibly, uh, liked me, right?"

It's almost comical the way he coughs, his eyes widening. What's most notable is that he remains completely silent.

"Edward?" I question, and he can't look at me.

He sets down his fork and takes a purposeful sip of his water. "I don't know what you want me to say, Bella," he says calmly.

I don't know what I want him to say either. Maybe I want him to tell me that Jane's wrong; that he doesn't like me. Because this changes everything. It does, no matter what anyone says.

It just does.

"Maybe I do like you," he eventually says, so very calmly. "Is that so surprising?"

The way he says it catches me off guard and my mouth drops open at his obvious ease. It doesn't sound as if he's said anything monumental. It's just a statement of fact, and I'm not sure how I'm supposed to respond.

His eyes finally meet mine. "You have a boyfriend, I know," he says, reminding us both. "We're friends, and that's all we'll ever be. I get it. Believe me when I say I'm not trying to get anything to change. It's nothing. I'll get over it. Just, please don't make it weird."

It's almost a plea, but I can't help it.

I make it weird.