*V*V*V*V*V*

Struck by the sudden silence and an atmospheric change so blatant that it feels almost physically harder to breathe, I stare at him. "Hey."

"Hey," he says back softly.

Trying not to remember that time in his car in too much detail, I swallow. "So what now?"

"Are you tired?"

"Not even a little," I admit. My heart is thumping desperately in my chest.

"Me neither. Maybe we could, uh, watch another movie? Or just talk? Or play a game? Or we could –."

"I'd like hot chocolate," I decide, cutting off his rambling list. "Uh, please, I mean."

"Hmm, I'll have to see if I have any."

"Oh, come on, it's a winter necessity," I tease.

He shrugs. "One way to find out." Leading the way towards the kitchen, he rummages through a few cabinets. Really, he has a giant kitchen for one person, but most of his cupboards are humorously empty. "Ha!" he finally says triumphantly, pulling out a singular packet of instant hot chocolate from the back of a cabinet.

"Wow, crisis averted. You're a hero."

"I'm signing autographs later," he agrees, handing me the prized package and a mug.

Of course, I ruin the moment by reading the fine print. "Um, this expired last year," I say shyly.

"Fuck. I haven't even lived here a year. That means I literally moved an expired packet of hot chocolate across county lines. I'm sorry."

I giggle at him. "Eh, who cares? This stuff lasts forever. It'll still taste fine."

He shrugs. "Whatever you say."

Opening up his refrigerator for the milk, I can't help but read that expiration label, too. "Dude, you're killing me," I laugh. "Your milk expired last month."

He groans, shutting the refrigerator for me out of embarrassment. "I don't have much of an excuse for that."

Thoroughly amused, I say, "I forgot I'm visiting a bachelor pad."

He snorts. "It's hardly a bachelor pad."

"Ok, Mr. Womanizer," I tease.

"Expired milk doesn't make me a womanizer."

"No, but the number ten does," I say mischievously.

"No fair," he complains.

"I never said I play fair," I laugh, filling my mug with water instead and popping it in the microwave.

"That's the problem with you youths today," he jokes. "No respect."

"And here I thought you liked my youth," I fire back, suggestively patting my ass and cocking my hip out.

His eyes widen and I realize I've gone too far.

Straightening, I cringe. "Ok, sorry. I didn't think that through." Maybe it's because we're never alone like this that sexual jokes come too readily – or maybe it's because it's all I can think about.

"No, uh, don't . . . don't apologize." He swallows. "I'm just not used to . . . well, it's new, that's all."

"Sorry. I've got a dirty brain up here," I mutter, tapping my forehead.

"Oh, I definitely knew that," he deadpans.

I smile, playfully hitting his forearm. "Rude."

"Just telling it like it is."

I shrug, conceding his point. "You've got me there."

The microwave beeps and I take out my freshly heated water, adding the hot chocolate powder and realizing too late I don't have a spoon for stirring. Luckily, Edward sees my problem and opens a drawer beside the sink, handing me the desired utensil.

"It's good," I assure him, taking a sip.

"Oh, you know what you need?" he exclaims. "You need marshmallows!" He opens yet another cabinet and tosses me a bag of big marshmallows. "And they're not even expired."

I raise an eyebrow. "You have expired hot chocolate and expired milk, but your marshmallows are fine for some reason?"

"A man has to have the essentials, Bella," he says seriously.

"Mmhmm," I hum skeptically, adding two jumbo marshmallows to top off my mug anyway.

"See? Perfect."

"Perfect," I agree, chuckling despite myself.

"So you have your hot chocolate. What else can I get for you?"

"How about a tour of the pad?"

"Sure," he says easily. "I can show you where you'll be sleeping."

"Oh." I try not to look disappointed.

He pauses, seeing my face. "Bella, I –."

"No, no," I interrupt, already mortified by my reaction. "I get it. I was just thinking –."

"I wouldn't be able to control myself," he says solemnly. "I did think about it," he admits, "but I don't know if I could –."

"I know. I get it. I probably couldn't either. I just kept thinking that maybe that wouldn't be so bad," I mumble.

"Are you saying that –?"

"No, I'm not saying anything. I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. Just ignore me for a second, ok?"

Edward grasps the hand that is not holding the hot chocolate and presses a kiss to my palm. "It's ok to talk about this, you know."

"I know, but we've already agreed on the rules and everything and I'm just being silly."

"It's not silly. I want you very much, too."

"Yeah, I noticed," I grumble, glancing down at his zipper.

He flushes, but kisses my hand again anyway. I almost wish he'd stop because his warm lips are making me insane. "What do you want, Bella?"

"Ugh, don't ask me that when you're like, two inches from my face and have had an erection next to me all night," I groan. "Of course I want to go to your bed and bang your brains out, but . . ."

He coughs at my wording, but holds my gaze. "But?"

I exhale noisily, sipping from my drink for time. "Maybe we should sit."

"What is it?"

"We're sitting," I prompt, pulling him with me back to the couch.

He follows willingly enough, but asks again, "What's going on?"

"Ok, right before I was leaving to drive to your house, my mom was acting super weird about me going and she told me that Mrs. Stanley – Jessica's mom – told her that Jessica said you and I seem awfully close."

"Wait, what?"

"Apparently Jessica has noticed that we're friendly somehow – I keep thinking she saw something or maybe it was just the way we talk to each other – and she told her mom who then commented on it to my mom. It just made me super paranoid that maybe word is getting out or maybe we're really bad at acting. I don't know. It made me feel like if something happens tonight, it will be that much harder to pretend it's a platonic friendship."

To my surprise, Edward starts to laugh – hard. Eyes shut, hands on belly kind of laughing.

Failing to see the humor of our relationship nearly being discovered, I ask him a bit sharply, "What's so funny?"

"Jessica Stanley, that's what," he chortles, swallowing a few times to calm himself down.

"What does that mean?"

"Jessica hasn't seen shit," he declares confidently. "She's just jealous."

"What?" He's still not making sense.

He snorts. "Do you remember the day we went out for coffee when Berty was trying to meet with me?"

"Vaguely."

"We were meeting about Jessica. She started coming to tutoring pretty much every day when you were . . . well, when you were gone for a bit," he says delicately. "It started fine, but the way she was talking to me and emailing me – it wasn't exactly like a student. It was more personal and it got more intimate after a few weeks – saying what she'd done over the weekend and how she wished I'd been there and oh, maybe we should go to some concert sometime. You know, that kind of stuff. I had to talk to Berty about it to let him know what was going on. Ironically, I was more worried about Jessica Stanley getting me accused of sexual harassment than you."

"Jesus," I breathe. "Why didn't you tell me any of this before?"

He shrugs. "It pretty much resolved itself once you came back. But that's why I was laughing. I would bet you anything that she only said something out of jealousy. Maybe it was because of the way we talk, but it's easy for me to seem more comfortable talking to you than to her because you don't outright proposition me at school."

"Well, not recently anyway," I joke, thinking of some of the more unfortunate comments I made to him those first couple months.

"Anyway, I wouldn't worry about Jessica. She has some cards stacked against her, too."

"Jeez, I guess so," I murmur, almost awed by the information. I never would have thought Jessica had it in her. At least she has good taste in men, though I'd prefer that taste to not be my man. Heck, if I wasn't with Edward, I might even admire her foolish bravery. "I bet she'd gnaw her right arm off to be the one here instead of me."

He rolls his eyes. "Maybe, but I'd kick her out."

"Oh, yeah?" I ask playfully. "Why? She's got gigantic boobs." I've both envied and lusted after them for a solid two years since they grew in.

"Brains over boobs any day."

"Hmm, you wouldn't want a big-boobed number eleven, huh?

"You're number eleven and your boobs are my favorite," he says with humor and sincerity.

"It's the piercings, right?" I joke. "It gets them every time."

"Them, huh? We never really got into your numbers too much even though you like to bring up mine all the time."

"Ugh, don't remind me. Not now."

"Now's the perfect time," he says good-naturedly. "I have you conveniently trapped here all night when you can't escape my interrogation."

"I have an alcohol clause, if you'll recall," I tease back, confidently evading his prompts.

He purses his lips for a moment and then stands, striding back towards the kitchen and returning shortly after with an unopened bottle of Scotch. Thrusting it into my hands with a clear challenge in his eyes, he says, "You were saying?"

Astounded, I ask, "Why do you even have this? You don't drink."

"Jasper gave it to me as a joke."

"And you're going to let your underage girlfriend drink this?" I ask incredulously. It's a dirty play to bring up my own age to escape speaking, but it's so rarely a fact I can use to my advantage.

"If it gets the truth out of you," he jokes. "Really, though, if you want to have a little, that's ok. You're not driving tonight. Besides," he adds in a softer voice, "if you drink that, I know I won't touch you tonight."

"Because you think the alcohol will cloud my judgment," I finish for him.

"Yeah. It's good moral insurance."

I stare him down for a moment and then deliver the bottle right back to his hands. "I'm good with my hot chocolate, thanks," I say pointedly, sipping at my melted marshmallow foam.

His eyebrows rise, but he does not comment, setting down the bottle on the coffee table. "You still going to talk?"

Maybe now is the perfect time not because I can't escape, but because he can't escape when he knows the truth. "Yes. But I need you to not freak out on me."

That directive abruptly changes the playful mood into something closer to apprehension. "It'll be fine," he assures me.

"Ok," I say shakily. "I . . . I guess I don't know where to start."

"How many people are we talking about here?"

"Just two."

The relief is evident on his face – god knows what number he thought I was going to say. "Three counting me?"

"Three counting you," I confirm.

"And I already know about Emmett. So who was the other guy?"

I wrinkle my nose at him. "See, that's kind of the thing. It wasn't a guy."

The realization seems to smack upside the head as he says, "Ohhh" in a drawn out fashion. "Are you . . . are you bisexual?"

"Yeah."

"Wow."

"Like, good wow or bad wow?"

"Good wow? I mean, I just didn't know that. You've never said anything about –."

"I know. Emmett was kind of shitty about it, so I haven't felt comfortable talking about it."

"So you're into women, huh?"

"Yeah."

Edward's eyes twinkle. "What's your type?"

I give him a look. "Really?"

"I'm just curious."

"Dude, if we weren't together, I would bang Tori in two seconds," I blurt out. I've felt a bit guilty for my attraction to her since dating Edward.

His mouth drops open in surprise before a laugh comes out. "Jesus, I knew I shouldn't have let you two become friends."

"Too late, man. She's my backup if you break up with me," I joke – though I don't know how much I'm kidding. Tori got drunk when we hung out last week and told me about the sex dream she had about me and that got me riled up in the worst way considering my sexual frustration.

"You know, I knew we had a lot in common, but I didn't know our taste in women would be one of those things."

I burst out with laughter, feeling pink in the cheeks, relieved he's taking it well enough to joke about it. "I guess we know who to call if we ever want to have a threesome."

He stares at me dumbly. "Oh my god, why would you put that thought in my head?"

"Sorry?"

"Nope, it's too late. I've thought about it now. It's up here." He points at his temple. "Forever," he emphasizes. Shaking his head like he's trying to exorcise a demon, he focuses back on me. "So who was this girl? And if you say Tori, I will literally die on this couch right now."

I swallow. I shouldn't have let myself feel relief for his laidback reaction. He hasn't heard the worst of it yet. "Um, no, definitely not Tori. Uh . . . so the who is the part that I need you to not freak out about."

"Ok," he says slowly – because my sexuality was supposed to be the big reveal here.

I inhale. I exhale. I inhale again – definitely not stalling, nope, not me. "It was Alice."

Edward's lips part for the briefest moment before they snap shut, his teeth clicking audibly behind them. "Alice," he repeats nearly inaudibly, vaguely gesturing at the couch cushion she occupied only ten minutes prior.

"Yes."

"Jesus."

I sigh. "I know. It's pretty bad. You can see why I didn't want to tell you."

"Does Jasper know?"

"Yes."

"Jesus," he repeats.

"It was an exploration thing that just happened to work really well for us – like, we didn't fight or get weird about it," I defend. "We stayed friends. I mean, it stopped once I started dating Emmett because Alice and I agreed to not do anything like that when either of us was in a relationship, but it was a pretty regular thing for about two years."

Edward seems stunned – slack jawed and silent.

"Say something."

He shakes his head.

"Are you mad at me?"

"I don't know what I am right now," he mutters. "That's . . . Jesus, that's a lot of information to deal with. I mean . . . Alice of all people."

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I know it's crazy. But Alice is my best friend before anything else and we're not like that with each other anymore." I can barely look at him.

"I wish you had told me sooner," he finally says.

"I know. I'm sorry. I was scared about your reaction."

"After everything that's happened . . . I mean, the stuff about you dating Emmett and working for my family – I know you realized those connections the same time I did, but after all of that, I really don't want anymore surprises."

"That's it, I promise. No more surprises."

After a long moment, he sighs and puts his arm around me, tucking me into his chest as I hurriedly set down my mug for fear of spillage. He presses a kiss to the top of my head and rests his chin there; it's a shock to my system, unused to this more overt physical contact.

"Are we ok?" I can't help but ask.

"We're ok," he says softly.

"Really?"

"Yes. Everybody has a past."

"Including you?"

"Of course." He shrugs. "Not anything like yours, though," he admits. "What is it about you?" he breathes into my hair.

"What do you mean?" I ask his collarbone.

"You have a knack for having relationships with people I know."

I can't help my eye roll. "Well, I am adorable."

He rolls his eyes, squeezing me once. "Bella."

"I don't know what to tell you. It's just a small world."

Snorting, he kisses my head again. "Ok, seductress."

"Um, excuse you. You are the only person I've seduced," I scoff with mock disgust.

"And you did a very good job," he says, patting my head like I'm a toddler.

I pull away from him, looking him square in the eye. "Don't condescend to me. I could break your will in ten seconds."

Although I'm joking, he regards me quite seriously, his expression sober. "More like two seconds."

I inhale, taking a sturdier grip of his shirt fabric bunched in my hand.

Glancing down, he gently unknots my fingers. "Maybe we should go to bed," he says, his voice rougher.

"Do you really mean –?"

"Separately."

My teeth snap shut. "Oh."

"Bella, I –."

"No, sorry. I'm just horny," I groan, scrubbing a hand over my face for sanity. "Ignore me again. It's just because we're talking about all of this stuff and it's making me crazy."

His tongue darts out to moisten his lips. "I know. Which is why we need to go to bed."

Within seconds, he's off the couch and pulling me with him down the hallway, pointing out his bedroom, the guest bathroom, and my designated bedroom. It's minimalistic to say the least, but so is the rest of his home.

"Sorry about the boxes," he mumbles of the cardboard stacked in the corner. "I haven't really gotten around to unpacking everything yet."

"It's fine. As far as I'm concerned, this is the height of luxury. I only have a twin bed at home," I say too cheerfully, trying to save face from my poor showing of self-control.

"Do you need anything?"

A toothbrush wouldn't hurt, but I figure I can tough it out until the morning. "No, I'm fine."

"Ok," he says gently. "You know where to find me."

I nod, holding my arms out to him. "Good night."

"Good night," he says, enveloping me against his chest once more.

When he moves to kiss my cheek – one of his favorite gentlemanly moves – he lingers there for a second and I can't help but act on such weakness. I tilt my head just far enough so our lips are millimeters apart, our breaths mingling.

"Hey," he says.

I feel dizzy. "Hey."

"We have to be good," he exhales.

"Then let go of me," I say, pointing out the obvious next step.

For several heartbeats, he hesitates, his brow furrowed and conflicted.

"Oh, just kiss me," I groan, melting into him and letting our lips meet.

Just as every time before, we are not gentle with each other – we're far too desperate for such delicacy. We clash together with the full weight of the posturing we've been maintaining for months, two frenzied people gripping each other too tightly.

In record time, I've stripped off his shirt and found my own scattered to the floor, writhing where we stand. I get as far as his belt buckle before he swears.

"Fuck. Shit. We can't do this. Not now." He huffs out his words, his eyes a chasm.

It takes me a moment to disengage from him, unlocking my grip from around his neck with the gaze of a wounded animal; my legs feel weak now, like I chugged a few shots of that scotch after all. I sit down, head in hands, giving in.

"Say something," he says after a few shaky breaths populate the air between us. Ironic that he's the one begging now.

"I need a cold shower," I grumble.

He snorts humorlessly. "Me, too."

"Look, I'm sorry," I groan. "I suck at this."

Shaking his head and sighing heavily, he sits down beside me on the bed. "This is the first time we've really been alone."

"I know, but I didn't think I'd lose my goddamn mind over it. I just . . . god, I want to be with you. Like, really be with you."

"I want that, too. More than you know," he says darkly. "But you know why we –."

"Edward, if someone found out we were dating or that I spent the night here, they would assume the worst automatically. We wouldn't be able to defend our relationship as purely platonic anyway, so what's the big deal with –?"

"Because I'd like to not cross at least one fucking line," he interrupts. "You're right that someone would assume the worst, but if ever questioned about it, I'd like to at least be able to honestly plead not guilty to fucking my student."

I cringe away from sheer volume his voice has achieved. "Sorry," I whisper, the guilt of my actions seeping into my tear ducts. I shouldn't push him. We've already agreed on the game plan here and I'm screwing it up with my lack of self-control. Not that he didn't kiss me back or assist in the whole tearing-off-each-other's-clothes part, but still.

"Bella," he sighs, his shoulders slumping, "I don't want to mess this up. We have five months left – just five. It feels like forever right now, but that's the difference between us losing my career and your reputation and us getting to live happily ever after."

What else can I say? He sums it up perfectly – as if I don't already feel enough like a horny asshole. "I told you I suck at this." I pout at him.

For some reason, this actually gets a laugh. "We both do."

"Well, you're right," I admit. "We need to suck in separate rooms."

"You ready to go to bed?"

Like I'm going to actually sleep after this rollercoaster. Mostly, I want the space to calm my erratic heartbeat and burdensome anxiety. "Yeah, I'm ready."

"Are you sure? If you want to talk, we can –."

"No, I'm good," I assure him.

He eyes me for a moment. "Ok."

Wisely, we don't attempt another hug and soon enough I'm left to lie in the dark on a monolithic bed, pondering my self-imposed threats to our happily ever after.

*V*V*V*V*V*

Some fluff, some confessions, some background, some sexual tension. Thoughts?