Chapter Two

"Stop fucking laughing!"

Emmett just keels over again, clutching at his stomach. Jasper isn't faring much better, and both Rose and Alice are politely trying their hardest not to laugh. They're failing miserably though. You'd think they would be a little more sympathetic, but obviously not.

I'm pacing in front of them, where they've all piled onto the thick couch in the basement of the house. We kicked out a few sophomores when we came down, and then Jasper locked the door so that they could all laugh at my expense, in private.

My friends, people.

"I can't believe you didn't know," Emmett says, sucking in a sharp breath and wheezing. "Didn't you vote?"

My eyes narrow as I come to a stop. "You know as well as I do that I was too young to vote when he was elected," I say seriously. "And plus; why the fuck would I care who his children were?"

Rose shakes her head. "I could tell you had no idea who she was at the library," she admits, still trying not to laugh. "I mean, honestly, Eddie, don't you follow the news?"

"I'm sorry if my search parameters for my news feed don't include the terms 'First Daughter' and 'Swan's Spawn.'"

Rose's face falls immediately. "Don't say that," she hisses. "Bella is a perfectly nice girl. This is exactly why she didn't want to come in with us. Everyone just presumes to know her, either from the misconceived ideas from the media or based on what they think they know about her father."

I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from saying something I'll surely regret. Rose is enough of a force to be reckoned with when she's using just her words, but her athletic build - a product of her intensive cheerleading - has been known to cause bodily harm to many an unsuspecting boy.

Emmett has also stopped laughing. "Tell me, Masen, do you still think she's the one now that you know who she is?"

I want to say no. I want, so badly, to tell him that I don't care about her, and I'll just stop thinking about her; but I know it'll a lie. Who she is inside trumps everything. Even though I know next to nothing about that inside person; I'm determined to find out. If she'll let me.

My silence is enough of a response for all four of them.

"Oh boy," Alice mutters, and we all nod together.

I move to sit down in an old armchair, flopping down tiredly. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about what I've just learnt, and I can feel all their eyes on me. It's as if they're expecting something, but I have nothing to give.

"That's why she said we can't be friends," I eventually whisper.

"What?" It's Emmett.

"She said 'We can't be friends,' and I didn't understand what she was trying to tell me." I run a rough hand through my hair and leave it there, gently tugging on my roots. It's a habit I developed when I was younger, that my mom absolutely hates. She's convinced that I'm going end up bald by the time I'm thirty if I keep it up.

I look at Rose. "Is it just me she can't be friends with?"

"I suspect so, Edward," she says simply. "Which I won't say is an entirely bad thing." Then: "Or a good thing." She takes a breath. "It's her first week. It's probably all really overwhelming already, and then there's you, and..." she trails off, sounding unsure as to what to say. I don't blame her. This entire situation is just fucking weird.

My eyes close for a moment, and then they fly open. I'm way too young for all of this. "Fuck it," I mutter. "I need a drink."

Nobody protests as I get to my feet and go in search of something stronger than a Corona. I can't figure out why any of this is even an issue. I can't wrap my head around the fact that we all feel like I've suffered some massive rejection. I mean, I spoke to the girl twice, sort of.

But, even though I don't understand it; the girl still feels like she's already mine. Or I'm hers. It doesn't even matter. It doesn't feel like we would ever have to work at it. Right now, it feels like we would actively have to work against it, and I don't know if I have it in me to try to convince her otherwise. So it's driving me to drink.

I'm not one to get plastered drunk, and this night is no different. I drink enough vodka to get a good buzz going, but it isn't enough to forget Bella... or everything else in my life. Which is good. I can't afford to forget.

Several people brave asking me about my conversation with Isabella, but my glare is enough to send them on their way. Edward Masen may be the President of Sigma Phi Epsilon, but I have it on good authority that I'm not particularly approachable. The truth is that I don't have time for the frivolities of student life. Even if I wanted to - which I don't - I have responsibilities that go beyond my duties as President, or the expectations of my degree.

Which is another reason why it's probably better that I just accept the whole 'we can't be friends' directive from Bella. She probably knows better than I do, right?

It's just after midnight when I decide to call it a night. When I announce that I'm off to bed, several girls perk up, but I'm feeling too melancholy to find it amusing. Don't they know by now that I sleep alone? I haven't admitted it to anyone but I actually haven't slept with anyone since my dad died. It isn't because of some twisted fear that he's watching my every move from wherever he is, but something else entirely.

I'm still trying to figure out what that something else is.

I make sure that Emmett and Jasper are relatively aware, and then I head upstairs, disappear behind my locked bedroom door and knock out as soon as my head hits my pillow. I sleep for a few hours, and wake up before the sun rises.

I have a mild hangover, and a quick Advil sorts that out as I consider getting ready to face the day. Deciding that it's pointless to put on fresh clothes when the house is going to need a thorough cleaning, I leave my room.

I'm unprepared for what I find when I emerge downstairs. Now, I've woken up to the aftermath of one of our parties before, but it's never been anything like this. From what I see, the party really only started after I went to bed. I doubt they were actually waiting for me to head out, but I can't help but feel slighted, you know?

There are, of course, empty cups lying around, bowls of chips toppled over, suspicious stains in the carpet and couches, and an endless number of bodies passed out just about every direction I look. As I stand in the living room, taking it all in; I decide that I don't actually have the patience to deal with all of this. Not yet, anyhow. It might be my lingering hangover, my irritation with the extent of the mess or my unexplainable heartsore at Bella's misplaced rejection, but participating in this cleanup is the last thing I want to do.

Maybe I need to run.

That sounds like a good idea. I head back upstairs and change into my running gear. I haven't been running since I arrived back at school, and I think it's just what I need. There's something awfully therapeutic about it that I've never been able to find in anything else I do. It's a known fact that I'm a runner, but I've never liked the idea of turning this thing that I do into something competitive. I don't want making it a sport to ruin the appeal of throwing on my running shoes and disappearing from the world for a little while.

The only person who's ever understood that is my mother. Maybe it's because she's actually taken the time to understand, or maybe it's because she birthed me; she just gets it. She played tennis in college, but it never came to much. She's not bitter about it. Her life just didn't lead her in that direction and, really, I admire the fact that she still loves her life.

Despite everything.

I definitely need whatever she's drinking.

I run nearly seven miles before I round back to the house, my chest heaving from my inability to suck in enough breath to get increased oxygen to my complaining muscles. I can tell that there's movement within the house, and I'm tempted to slip in unnoticed, but that's almost impossible when you're Edward Masen in this house.

Emmett spots me first as I make a beeline towards the stairs. He says my name, his eyes taking in my running gear. "You went running?" he asks unnecessarily.

I nod.

He looks thoughtful, his mind turning over what this response from me might mean. "Because of her?" he asks quietly.

I want to tell him no. Fuck, I want to tell him anything but the truth. I want to lie.

"Edward," he says, and there's something in his tone that I can't quite figure out. He only really calls me by my first name when we're discussing something serious. Right now, I don't like it.

"I know," I reply before he can say anything else. I don't need him to worry about me like this. I've got things under control. Family. School. Bills. Appearances. Girls were already so low on the list of priorities before all of this non-drama. One specific brown beauty isn't going to change that. He had to know. I need him to know, so that he can remind me from time to time.

Isabella Swan is just a girl, and she wasn't going to change anything.

I was wrong.

I was so fucking wrong.

"Have you talked to Newton yet?"

I look up from my course reader to spy Jasper standing in my bedroom's open doorway. I like to keep my door open when I'm home, just to make myself appear a little more approachable that I'm apparently not. People do stop by to discuss things with me, mainly to do with the house and things relating to the events we host, but I appreciate it all the same.

"About what?" I ask, resting my elbows on my desk and eyeing him carefully.

"Bringing Jess around."

I huff out a breath. "Why do I have to be the one to talk to him?"

"You're President; it's kind of your job."

"This is so not what I signed up for, Jazz," I say. "I mean, he's a Senior... how am I supposed to tell him that his occasional hookup is a girl who makes us all incredibly uncomfortable."

"Somehow, you just suck it up and do it," he says unhelpfully. "She's a peeping tom, Edward. And she says the most inappropriate things. I mean, I'm as perverted as the next guy, but her mind..." he trails off, his eyes widening slightly. "We just can't have that kind of thing around here, and you have to get it done before you go home this weekend."

As much as his forcefulness irritates me, I'm thankful that Sigma Phi Epsilon has someone like Jasper around. If not to push me to do a better job; then to pick up the slack when I fail. "Fine, fine," I say tiredly. "I'll talk to him tonight, all right?"

He nods. "I'll clear out as many of the guys as I can." He stalks into my room and then drops down onto the edge of my bed, prompting me to spin in my desk chair to face him. "Do you know what you're going to say?"

I don't even hesitate. "Stop bringing Jess around, she's fucking psychotic?"

His own laughter seems to surprise him. "Somehow, I don't think that will go down well," he says, running a hand through his thick, blond hair. I can just imagine that there will be strands of it on my comforter when I crawl into bed later. He's such a fucking shedder. "You're going to have to be tactful, but also very direct. Something tells me that he won't really understand unless you spell it out for him."

This part I already know. Michael Newton doesn't see subtle. "I can't wait for him to graduate."

"At the rate he's going; I'm guessing he's probably going to be around for a fifth year, Lamb Chop. Maybe even a sixth."

I groan. From the sound of my hated nickname or from the thought of at least another year of Newton; I don't quite know. They're both vexing, just the same. "I swear I'll cry tears if the fucker doesn't get out of this house," I hiss.

Jasper knows how much I hate Newton. We have - well, put simply, we have history. It doesn't matter that he arrived before me. It really irks him that I was elected President and not him, which is something that Emmett loves to remind him about. I never show it, but it makes me insanely happy. My friends are amazing.

Jasper, thankfully, changes the subject. "What time are you heading out on Friday?" he asks.

"I'll leave straight after my Biomechanics lecture," I tell him. "My flight's at two thirty."

He looks thoughtful for a moment. "You don't need a ride, do you?"

I smirk. "Is that your not so subtle way of ensuring that I leave my car keys with you?"

He grins unabashedly, not even embarrassed that I've caught him out. "You are though, right? I mean, it would be a shame to just leave it alone, untouched, all weekend. The Orange Beauty deserves to be driven."

I chuckle. "I'll be sure to leave the keys with you, Jazz," I assure him. Then: "You should know that my mom has been trying to get me to take her Volvo."

His gasp is almost comical. "Don't fuck with me like that, Masen," he says dramatically, his hand held over his heart. "Wait until I graduate to do something as stupid as that, all right?"

"All right."

At the sound of that, he stands up and stretches. "I'm going to hit the gym," he informs me as he starts towards the door. "Oh, uh, before I forget - " he stops walking but doesn't turn to look at me " - Alice fucked Crowley."

I can't get a reading on his tone, but there's a pained quality to it. "Oh."

He jerks his head once, and then resumes his walk out of the room. I watch him go until he's disappeared, my mind spinning. Alice and Tyler? I definitely didn't see that one coming. I'd like to think that this was Alice's attempt at moving on, but it really is too close for comfort for me not to consider that she was just trying to get back at Jasper somehow.

I sigh. I have more important things to be worry about, least of which is Jasper and Alice's tumultuous relationship. Emmett and I have this bet going about them. I'm convinced that they'll eventually work it out and end up married with two point five kids. Emmett thinks they'll never work out in the end, even if they did decide to try again.

Even though Jasper hurt her in ways I'll never truly understand; Alice still seems willing to try again.

Without prompting, I think about Bella. It isn't as if she hasn't been actively on my mind since I met her, but I'm sometimes able to set thoughts of her aside and focus on my academic work. A quick glance at the clock on my wall tells me that I've been able to avoid thoughts of her for just under two hours. It's a bit of a record, I tell you, because I'm even dreaming of her these days.

With yet another sigh, I spin in my chair and return my attention to my course reader. I have an online quiz due on this particular chapter by midnight, and I'm only halfway through. I take notes as I read, using my highlighters rather generously. It helps with my kinetic learning.

I'm just wrapping up the chapter when Jasper is back in my doorway, freshly showered and looking pensive.

"I didn't forget," I say before he can get a word in. "I just wanted to finish this page, and then I'll go find Newton."

He wants to laugh. It's in his eyes but, thankfully, he doesn't. He steps into my room, his eyes full of mirth. "I'll just wait here then." He throws himself onto my bed, eliciting some painful creeks from the base, and settles with his hands behind his head and his eyes on my ceiling.

I forget he's there as I finish up my reading, before opening up the online quiz on the computer in front of me. It's only ten questions of the multiple choice variety, and I'm able to smash it out before I'm forced to deal with the drama that will surely follow my conversation with Newton. Not many people like him so I don't think the fallout will be all that bad.

And it seems that he's the only one who likes Jessica Stanley.

I kind of envision him making some kind of power play by throwing an ultimatum in my face. If she can't come by anymore, then I'm gone. I fucking wish. I chuckle to myself, and I'm about to mention my thoughts to Jasper when my phone rings.

It's my sister's ring tone.

I glance at the clock, doing a quick calculation. Tori only calls when something is wrong, even at eight o'clock at night. I can't help my body from tensing, and my voice it tight when I eventually answer.

"Edward." Just one word. My name. Said like that.

I can't recall anything that happens afterwards. Tori says words to me, and I say words back to her. When she hangs up, I say words to Jasper, who then gets on his phone and says words to Emmett. I think he says more words to other people, but I'm still wrapped up in the words that Tori has said to me.

It's Riley. He collapsed during Little League. We're at the hospital now.

The thing is that I'm not surprised by her words, yet they're still a shock to me. Riley liked to refer to himself as a ticking time-bomb. It wasn't funny, but we still laughed. If a seven-year-old could accept his own mortality, then why couldn't we?

Rose arrives at some point. I don't think I've moved from my position in my desk chair, but there's movement all around me. I vaguely think that it's rather amazing that Emmett could call her, and she would come. Perhaps she's warming up to him. Or maybe she came for me... after all, I'm probably the only Sig Ep who hasn't tried to sleep with her at some point.

Emmett eventually hoists me up and puts his hands on my shoulders so that I am looking at him.

"It's not the end," he says strongly. "Riley's a fighter, all right? He probably just did all of this to get you to go home sooner." He risks a smile, but I don't react. "Alice managed to move your ticket. Rose packed your bag. Jasper's going to drive you to the airport, and I'm going to take care of Newton, okay?"

I think I nod. Maybe I even say something because, the next thing I know, we're on the move. I slowly come back to myself during the drive. I think it's Jasper's presence that finally allows my shock to wear off. He has this uncanny ability to keep people calm; I don't know what it is. He allows me to have my silent freakout because, like me, he knows that once I'm on that plan back to Seattle; I'm going to have to be the strong one.

Ever since my father died; I've been the one tasked with holding everyone together. It's hard enough doing it when I'm in the State of Washington, let alone in Illinois. To this day, I'm wondering why my family even let me leave the State. They practically forced me to go.

And now look what's happened.

Jasper goes with me as far as the airport will allow, and then I'm on the plane and on my way West. I spend the entire flight thinking. I don't know how long I'll have to be in Seattle, but I can worry about that at another time. I have friends back in Chicago who will make it all right that I'm missing. And I have family in Seattle who will make sure that I miss the least number of days.

I rely on all of them for certain things.

My mind won't stop me from thinking that they all rely on me for everything.

In the end, I end up spending six days in Seattle, which is three days more than I intended. Jasper attends my Immunology lecture on Monday, and signs my name when the register goes around the lecture hall. Emmett searches through my desk for my Wave Theory tutorial, rewrites it, and hands it in for me.

My friends, people.

Jasper is the one to pick me up when I land at O'Hare. The Orange Beauty is looking cleaner than when I left, and I find it really funny that Jasper takes better care of my car than I do. During the drive, he asks questions about Seattle's weather until I'm uncomfortable enough to just blurt out what he's dying to know.

"It's definitely back," I say, my voice hollow. "His most recent PET Scan confirmed it."

Jasper nods thoughtfully. We'd already discussed the impending Scan on the phone two days before.

"They've been watching him carefully, testing every twenty-eight days." I run a hand through my hair, my eyes watching the buildings as they fly past through the window. "It's bad, Jazz. Peter's freaking out, and I don't know what more I can do."

Jasper doesn't say anything for a moment. Then: "I think that you're doing all you can do, Edward."

"Which is?"

He slows the car down slightly, his eyes darting my way before they're back on the road again. "Let's say, just for a moment; it was you in Peter's shoes... What would you expect from you, as your own little brother?"

"Nothing," I say automatically, and I mean it. If I were Peter, I wouldn't want to put all of this on him.

But, because we are who we are; it wouldn't matter what he - or I - wanted. We're family, and nothing else matters. Jasper understands that. Hell, even Emmett understands it, though they both never talk about their own families.

Sometimes I get the impression that they live vicariously through mine.

My mom is their mom. I swear sometimes that she talks to Jasper on the phone for longer than she talks to me. I don't mind it all that much, to be honest. My mom is so great; it would be unfair to keep her all to myself. As much as I sometimes want to.

I feel a flash of irritation at Jasper's reasoning about what I'm doing to lessen the burden of my brother's sick son. Why the fuck does everything make sense when he's the one coming up with the words?

Jasper changes the subject, switching to something else I'm not entirely sure I want to talk about. "Bella was at the Lambda Chi Luau on Saturday night," he tells me, and it's a good thing he's telling me now, instead of while I was in Seattle. I didn't need the distraction of a girl who doesn't even want to be my friend while I was with my family. "She seemed surprised that you weren't there. My guess is that she needed a neutral setting to deal with whatever the fuck the two of you have going on."

"There's nothing going on," I'm quick to say. "Literally. Nothing. This entire thing is a non-issue, all right? She's just a girl." I say the words, but I know he can hear the lies in them. Bella is more than just a girl, and I've spoken to her only, what, twice in my lifetime.

My ridiculous brain decides that this person that I am wants to spend the rest of my God-forsaken life talking to her.

Settling back into my routine after a visit to Seattle has never been as difficult as it is this time. Emmett had that talk with Newton, and he always stares daggers at me, as if I kicked his puppy in the face. Really, what the fuck is his problem?

But it isn't only Newton.

It feels like, everywhere I go, people know. Whether it's the fact that there's a very real possibility that my nephew won't live to reach double digits, or that I'm the boy that the first daughter has spoken to more than once - people fucking stare.

Even in the library. Which is supposed to be my escape; my salvation.

But now it's an endless whirlwind of sound. It's that annoying kind; the one that isn't loud enough to deserve a talking-to, but still loud enough to grate on my nerves. It never used to be like this, but now it is. And it's Bella's fucking fault.

She apparently likes that table that she first sat at that day. She sits there nearly every afternoon. I don't work every afternoon, but I hear from the other students who work in my Wing that she usually shows up, without fail, with different people in tow. I'm guessing that she's probably too nice to decline people's offers to sit with her. Maybe she's looking to make friends with as many people as she can.

Just not me then.

I try not to pay much attention to her, but sometimes I feel her eyes on me. And, really, who do I think I'm kidding; I stare at her sometimes: the back of her, her side profile. Jesus. She's beautiful. I entertain the idea that it's all some illusion. I want to think that she's this truly horrible person who doesn't deserve a second thought, but even the deepest cynic in me can't manage it.

Her smile is too sincere, and her eyes are too warm. Her laugh is too musical, and the way she hates being the centre of attention is terribly endearing. I see the way she deflects compliments; the way she always pulls other people into the conversation. She always looks genuinely interested in hearing about other people and their lives. There are just some things that can't be faked, and the genuine warmth in her captivating eyes is one of those things.

None of it is making it any easier to accept that she doesn't even want to be friends with me.

So I just watch her.

I watch her until, one afternoon, she's just there, standing in front of my counter the way she did that first day; that first day when she claimed a piece of me without either of us even realising it.

I can tell she knows I know who she is. It's in her eyes, and she looks something akin to terrified; maybe even bashful. I want to say something reassuring but the words won't come. If she's terrified, then what does that make me, because I sure as shit am not brave when it comes to things like this.

We could let this be it, but I don't want that. It's the last thing I want, but I don't know if I'm allowed to tell her something like that.

"Looking for a book?" I ask, risking my voice. It comes out as more of a croak, but I can tell that it still manages to relax her enough to take a step forward, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Why does she have to do that? I'm struggling enough as it is.

"I actually know how to use the self-service thingy now," she informs me, looking rather smug about it.

"So you're just here to see me then?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

It takes a moment for a smile to spread across her face, as if she's hesitant to allow herself to show me whatever she's feeling. "Oh, don't flatter yourself," she says in a teasing tone, her nose crinkling slightly, and I can't help my grin. I'm lost; gone... entirely. She owns me now.

"No matter what you say," I tell her; "Consider me thoroughly flattered."

She lets out a small laugh, before her face takes on a serious expression. "I just, well, I wanted to find out how you are," she says carefully. "Rose told me that you went home, and I," she hesitates. "Just, how are you?"

I blink a few times, trying to wrap my head around exactly what she's asking me. "Did Rose tell you why I went home?" I ask softly. I don't want her to be here because she feels sorry for me. I don't want anyone's pity, least of all hers.

Bella takes another step towards the counter, her eyes never straying from my face. The great big world could be falling apart around us, but I wouldn't know. Nothing exists besides her. I'm aware enough to acknowledge just how dangerous that is, but I find that I don't care.

"Not exactly," she assures me. "Just that you go home sometimes, for family reasons. I swear I don't know what that means, and I'm not asking you to tell me. I was just, umm, worried about you because, well, you weren't at the Drive on Sunday, or the Luau on Saturday."

She says so much in her little monologue that I'm completely floored for a solid twenty seconds, my brain struggling to process. Really, it's amazing to think that I got a 2310 on my SATs with the way I'm just staring blankly at this perfect girl.

"Edward?" she prompts when I've been silent for too long.

"I'm fine," I blurt out, cringing slightly. "I mean, I'm fine," I repeat, gentler. "A bit jet-lagged, maybe, but the week is almost over."

If she notices that I actively don't mention my reasons for going home, she doesn't mention it. "Well, that's good," she says kindly. "Are you sleeping well?"

Can she tell just how weary I am? Can she see that I haven't slept for more than four hours at a time since I got on that plane to Seattle? "Uh, most of the time," I lie, and her kinked eyebrow is enough to tell me that she doesn't entirely believe me. "Okay, not well enough," I confess. "But that's expected, right? I have a lot going on, and I'm in a constant state of stress. Not sleeping well kind of comes with the territory, doesn't it?"

She tilts her head to the side in thought. It takes her a moment to decide on a response. "I suppose it does come with the territory," she finally says. "Though you should definitely try to get more sleep. It wouldn't do to burn yourself out so early in the semester."

I just stare at her. What is happening right now? "You're being awfully friendly," I say, knowing that my words have the potential to ruin whatever we're doing.

I do ruin it.

Her face falls, and she takes a step back, looking a little lost for a moment. "You're right," she says, and then she walks away.

I fucking let her.

It isn't until the middle of October that the Bella situation really starts to get me down. I think that I convinced myself that she would eventually come around and now, four weeks into the quarter; I'm considering the fact that I'm wrong.

Maybe she doesn't feel it: that undeniable pull; that unexplainable connection. Maybe she doesn't feel the urge to stare at me the way that I have to stare at her.

I mainly see her in the library, but I do see her out and about sometimes. Ever since we last spoke; she's made a point of not looking at me. It bothers me, of course, but I can't help but think it's a little childish. This entire 'staying away' thing is getting old really quickly, and I have half a mind to call her out on it.

And say what exactly?

Her Secret Service people would probably straight up murder me if I so much as raised my voice.

Imagine being the guy who called the first daughter childish. Would I even live to tell the tale? Would I even want to?

Sometimes I think about what would have happened if I hadn't said the stupid thing to cut short our last conversation. In my mind, we would have reached that point eventually, so I don't wallow too much. But then I like to entertain the idea that we could have talked for hours. Maybe I even asked her to get coffee. Dinner.

It's useless. Bella has made it clear that she doesn't want anything to do with me, hasn't she? She doesn't look at me, but I know she still does. She smiles sometimes, and it confuses the hell out of. She doesn't want to be my friend, right?

I start to believe it, until I just don't.

Because, there she is again, standing in front of my counter in the library, for everyone to see. I think she likes that there's a physical barrier between us, as if she can't be certain what either of us will do if there isn't one. I know what I would do, but I don't want to get shot.

"What can I do for you?" I ask, my tone a mixture of disdain and friendliness. Truly, I don't know how I manage it. It just sounds painful to my own ears.

She presses her lips together, clearly in thought.

"Bella," I prompt. "What do you want?"

Silence.

"Bella," I say a little more forcefully.

"You're not sleeping."

I bristle. It's none of her business. Why does she even care that I can't stay asleep for long periods, because I'm terrified that I'll miss the phone call that tells me that Riley isn't responding to treatment?

"Edward?" she prompts this time around.

I frown. "What do you want?" I ask again.

"I just want to know how you're doing."

"But doesn't that count as being friendly?" I point out, because I'm a little confused. Look at me, don't look at me. Talk to me, don't. I get a headache just thinking about it.

"I only said that it'd be better if we weren't friends - "

"Actually," I cut her off. "You said we can't be friends, Bella. So, tell me, which one is it? Because, really, your mood swings are starting to give me whiplash."

She sighs heavily. "It would be better, Edward," she says. "You don't know the kinds of things I have to deal with on a daily basis, and I don't want you to have to know. But…"

"But what? What, Bella? What do you want from me? Seriously."

"I am tired of trying to stay away from you."

I take a step back and bump the stool behind me, clearly thrown by her words. I definitely wasn't expecting to hear her say that.

"I mean, our friends are friends, and it gets awkward, doesn't it? I just - look, I don't know how to do any of this, and I've sort of resigned myself to being some kind of pariah for the next five years of my life. The last thing I want to do is drag some poor, unsuspecting boy into the torrential downpour of a life that comes with being the daughter of a politician."

"I'm a big boy," I tell her.

She shakes her head. "You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me," I press. "I promise I can handle it."

"You say that now," she counters. She looks like she's fighting some kind of internal battle. "But what about later? What happens when the day comes that you can't handle it? Because it'll happen, Edward. I've seen it happen, and I'm definitely not strong enough for the day you realise that I'm not worth everything you'll be put through."

"Impossible."

She shakes her head again, more vigorously this time. "Words mean nothing," she says tensely, and I realise that she's speaking from experience.

"Believe me, Bella, I know that," I say, because I do know. Words mean nothing. "But all I have right now are words. I mean, who's to say that we'll even like each other if we go on a date? We might not even be compatible. I mean, I hate olives. What do you think of them? But answer wisely, because this could change things."

She looks stumped, as if she's unsure whether to laugh or reprimand me for trying to distract her. Then she says something that completely throws me. "I'm not going to sleep with you." She says it in a rush, and it seems to catch us both off guard.

I burst out laughing.

Her blush takes over her entire face and - oh my God - she's this beacon, and I'll forever be drawn to her.

"Okay," I say.

"Okay," she echoes.

"Friends," I say.

There's only slight hesitation, and then she smiles brightly. "Friends."