I have to say how pleased I am by the response to Renee because she is very much modeled after my own mother. :)

*V*V*V*V*V*

The rest of my Saturday is spent napping and watching terrible TV with my mom. We laugh like nothing is wrong and I realize I haven't spent time with her like this in forever, cuddled up together on the couch, eating junk food. It's curative.

Alice calls that night to check up on me and I assure her that I am fine, quietly filling her in about my mom and asking about her fight with Jasper. She says they worked everything out, though she doesn't go into details, which makes me think things are still tense. I wonder if work will be even more awkward.

It isn't until Sunday that Emmett calls.

"Hey, are you still up for meeting today? I didn't know how you were feeling after you passed out on Friday." He sounds compassionate and thoughtful.

God, why did I agree to this? "I . . . yeah, I guess we could meet."

"I'm hanging out at the reservation right now. Do you want to meet closer to the edge of town? The diner maybe?"

"Sure."

"Half an hour?"

"Yeah, that's fine."

When I arrive, Emmett is already seated in a booth. The diner is crowded as it always is on Sundays and I regret our decision to meet here. There are too many people I know.

"Hey," Emmett says, smiling at me. He does have a nice smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. I suppose I never thanked you for saving me from falling all over the place."

"No problem. I've never seen you drink like that."

"That's because I never have."

"You were that weirded out, huh?"

"Emmett, I don't want to talk about Friday. Let's just talk about . . . well, whatever you wanted to talk about."

He straightens, like he's preparing. "I wanted to tell you I'm sorry, Izzy. I know I said some awful things to you. I was just hurt and lashing out, but I've regretted it forever."

That stupid phone conversation feels like it was years ago. The fact that he doesn't know how thoroughly I've fucked him over – intentionally or not – makes it easy to say, "I forgive you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I said some mean things, too. I think we both lost our heads."

"Do you think we could be friends? I mean, I really did have a lot of fun with you and I miss that."

"I'm not looking to date you again," I say definitively.

"I know, I know," he says quickly. "Just friends."

"Ok."

"Maybe you could come visit me at school sometime?"

"Yeah, maybe."

That's all Emmett needs to launch into stories about his college experiences. It seems like he has so many already, but he's entertaining as always, exaggeratedly acting out impressions and laughing at his own jokes in a way that makes me laugh, too. Soon enough, we're in stitches like always, slapping the table and trading stories.

After an hour, when we're both coming down from the laughter of his story about how he accidentally bleached his clothes because his mom never showed him how to do laundry, he asks me about Edward. "So what's my brother like as a teacher?"

"I'm not in his class, remember?" I point out, trying to hide my discomfort.

"Oh," Emmett says, disappointed. "That's a bummer. I was hoping I could get some material to tease him with. Jasper told me he's got a flock of girls that follow him everywhere and are totally in love with him." God, if he only knew. "I guess it's funny enough that he teaches where you and Alice go to school."

I don't take the bait. "Yeah, sorry I don't know much. So, tell me how football is going," I instruct, changing the subject to something Emmett will happily chatter about.

By the time the sun is getting low in the sky, we finally part ways on much better terms than we started. In many ways, it is easy to love him. I don't think he's a man of great emotional depths, but the surface is so easy and fun. I'm glad there's at least one member of the Cullen gene pool that still likes me.

*V*V*V*V*V*

"Hey," I greet Edward during study period.

He just looks at me, leaning back in his chair warily. The tired circles under his eyes make him look sick. "You might as well close the door."

I do. He's right to not want to be overheard. "I wanted to say . . . ok, I don't know what I want to say. I just don't want things to be weird because of . . . well, you know. I'm checking on you, I guess."

"Checking on me," he repeats, like he's testing out the sound of it. "Would you like the list of reasons why I am not ok?"

Jesus, this ought to be good.

"This weekend, I discovered that you not only work for my father and brother – who is dating the only other student that knows about my history with you, for the record – but that you also used to date Emmett. And of course you know Tori, too."

"My internship ends in under two months so it's not like I'm working for them forever; Emmett and I have been broken up for a while and he has no idea about what happened between us; and Tori was drunk. I mean, I know you're dating and all, but –."

"I'm not dating Tori."

I stare at him blankly. "What?"

"We're not together. We never have been."

His words don't make sense to me. "What?" I repeat, trying to assimilate the information. What about that phone call? Or how she was hanging on him? Or her calling him her date?

"We're friends."

"Just friends?"

"We didn't used to be, but we are now," he says curtly.

Oh. "For how long?" I ask unashamedly.

He eyes me, but confesses anyway. "Since I met you," he groans even as I imagine crawling into his lap and kissing him with the relief I feel. "It's like everything leads back to you. I just want to do my job like any other teacher without getting fired or thrown in jail, but everywhere I turn and everyone I turn to has some connection with you."

The sound of his desperation cuts an icy feeling into my chest. "And you don't think I feel the same way?" I demand. "That connection goes both ways, you know. I struggle all the time with trying not to cause you stress or put you at risk with your job or reputation. I get it, ok? I have tried to forget, too – to not feel attracted to you or to remember how it felt when –."

A dangerous expression crosses his face, nostrils flaring. "Don't."

"Sorry," I atone immediately. "I just mean that I worry the same way."

"The same way?" he repeats hotly. "How would you feel if I showed up at your family reunion?"

On impulse, I blurt, "I told my mom."

He blinks at me for a second, thrown off balance. "Told her what?" he asks sharply when my sentence registers.

"About how we met. Not all of it," I add, scared of his expression.

He looks torn between furor and horror. "What have you done?"

"She was super cool about it," I say quickly, paling. "She knows how I feel and how I think you feel – or, how you used to feel, I mean. I don't know. She kind of gave me her blessing – after graduation, I mean, but it's not like –."

"Stop."

"What?"

"Just . . . Jesus Christ – stop. Your mom . . . it doesn't change anything," he says darkly, tugging at his hair.

"It changes everything," I disagree. "I mean, not until after graduation, of course, but having my mom on our side –."

"No, it doesn't!" he explodes. "I can't do this with you anymore. I'm losing my goddamn mind."

"Edward, I –."

"Don't call me that," he hisses. He's not even looking at me anymore, staring straight down at his desk, nostrils flared and eyes wild.

I flinch. Maybe it's his turn for a mental breakdown. "What do you want from me then?" I ask sharply.

"I want to forget I ever met you."

Holy shit. I just stare at him. Part of me understands – he just wants to be a good teacher without me acting as a constant temptation, driving both of us crazy – but another, larger part feels like I've been slapped across the face. I've been stupid all along. Just because he wanted to ask me on a date after I gave him a blowjob weeks ago doesn't mean he still feels that way.

A nasty voice in my head asks why he would want me anyway. Some teenager that got drunk at a work party because she couldn't keep it together? Yeah, super sexy and so mature. How could he possibly resist? And knowing that drunk teenager got it on with his brother? Yup, a practical goddess.

The burning in my eyes tells me I'm about to cry. Luckily, it's easy to gather my belongings seeing as I never unpacked them, rising to my feet and turning for the door. If that's really how he feels, then I won't stand in the way.

I pause with my door on the handle for a moment, hoping he'll apologize or say anything at all . . . but no response comes.

"Goodbye, Edward," I say with a feeling of finality.

*V*V*V*V*V*

I don't know how I make it through the rest of my school day or how I muster the courage to drive to Port Angeles for work. I feel like a zombie. All I can focus on is how I overcame the gigantic challenge of breaking it to my mother that I have the hots for my teacher – and even won her acceptance – and none of it matters because said teacher doesn't want anything to do with me. I want to forget I ever met you. His words play on a sound loop in my head. Why did I tell him about my mom? How could I be so stupid to delude myself with a happily ever after?

The second I step off the elevator at work, I head in the direction of Jasper's office, but I notice everyone turning to look at me as I walk across the floor. The chasm in my stomach deepens, having no doubt as to the curiosity behind their stares.

I don't knock as I barricade myself in Japer's office, pressing my back to the door. "They're all looking at me," I breathe.

He scratches the back of his head, leaning back in his chair. "You were literally carried out of here on Friday."

I shut my eyes tight, wanting this all to go away. "I didn't pass out because I was drunk. I passed out because I was in shock. God, they all think I'm some kind of alcoholic."

"No," he disagrees gently, "they don't. I don't mean this to sound cruel, but they were more amused than anything."

"Amused?" I repeat skeptically.

"Believe me, you are not the first underage intern to drink at the office party. You weren't even the only underage intern to drink at that office party."
"I thought interns weren't invited, though."

"Sometimes they are if people like them enough."

Exhaling the breath that was building in my lungs, I peel myself away from his door and plop down in the chair before his desk. "That makes me feel a little better. I was worried you would fire me or something."

"If we fired everybody that got too drunk at the office party, we would be out of business," Jasper jokes.

I roll my eyes, though I accomplish a smile. He always manages to put me at ease. "Thank you. I promise it will never happen again." Not like I'll be working here much longer, but still.

"No worries. Besides, it sounds like you had good reason to drink."

Stiffening in place, I reanalyze his face. "Alice told you?" I guess.

"No. Edward."

"Edward?" I squawk. I mean, I suppose it makes sense because they're brothers, but part of me assumed Edward would take his behavior with me to the grave. I guess it's all out in the open now. I wonder if Emmett knows or –worse – if Carlisle knows. "Jesus," I groan, placing my hands over my face and peeking at Jasper through my fingers.

But he's calm and collected. "It all sounds like a bad string of coincidences," he reassures me. God, my mom said the same thing. Is that what my life is now? Just a mess of bad coincidences? "I don't think less of you or anything. I mean, yes, it definitely creeps me out to know you've had sex with both of –."

"I didn't have sex with Edward," I interrupt. "We were involved briefly, but not to that degree."

"Sorry," Jasper says. "Edward made it sound like more."

I slink down in my seat. "Well, it wasn't," I assert glumly.

"Bella," Jasper says in a different tone – more seriously. "Please be careful with him."

I narrow my eyes. "What is that supposed to mean?" He's the one that stomped all over my heart today.

Jasper gives me a pitying, knowing look.

"What?" I demand.

"Look, my brother is not the most forthcoming guy, but I know when he's in lo –."

"Don't you dare," I say sharply. I don't want to hear that Edward Masen is in love with me – not from someone else's lips, not after today.

Besides, I don't know if I'm in love with him. Do I even know him well enough? We've never been on equal footing long enough for me to be sure even if my feelings definitely lean in that direction. My fantasies about him are not purely sexual anymore – some of them involve imagining us having breakfast on Sunday mornings, going grocery shopping together, hanging out at the comic book shop he shyly told me he used to frequent. Couple things. Things we couldn't do in the light of day where we might get recognized, but things people in love do anyway.

God, this is going to make the tutoring session so awkward tomorrow.

I shake my head, clearing my thoughts and sighing. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I know you're trying to help, but Edward . . . he needs to decide what he's doing for himself. He's the one that has to pick me – and he has a million reasons why he shouldn't." I told him that the last time I was at Volterra when I left his car; he's the one with everything to lose, after all.

Jasper sighs. "I'm sorry. I just hate to see the both of you suffering."

Because I can't help myself, I ask, "Would you really be ok with us dating? With him dating a student? Your employee? Someone eight – well, seven and a half – years younger?"

"I'd be ok with him dating you," he says meaningfully.

My face warms. "Even after knowing . . . well, all of it? You still like me?" I prompt pitifully.

"Of course, Jack. You're my second favorite high schooler."

I laugh despite myself. "Gee, thanks, cowboy."

"But, really, I count you as one of my friends. You're laidback and passionate and smart."

I blush. "Back at you."

"You want to do some work today or should I pretend I sent you on a super important errand so you can just chill out?" Jasper is a saint.

"I appreciate that, but I'd rather work. It might help keep me distracted."

His lips quirk and he stands, handing me a thick folder. "Why don't you edit this manuscript for me?"

Despite everything I've been through and my shitty mood, my eyes light up. "Are you serious? You want me to actually do some editing? Not just practice stuff?"

He laughs. "Yes, Jack. Show me what you've got."

I practically snatch it out of his hands, determined to do a fantastic job. "Yes, sir, Mr. Boss Man."

"That's the spirit. Good luck."

I take a moment to feel intense gratitude for Jasper and then salute him, leaving his office and ignoring the stares as I set to work.

*V*V*V*V*V*