Chapter Four

And, just as quickly as my friendship with Bella comes to life; it sizzles out just as fast.

It hurts. I can't even be sure exactly what hurts, but it's almost paralysing. It's so difficult to remember how easy things were before I decided to push too much. It wasn't as if she wasn't clear about where she stood. I sigh. Is this what the friend zone is? Am I just one of those guys who can't accept it?

Fuck my life.

I don't respond to her last email, mainly because I don't have a fucking clue what to say to her. Can't do what? I mean, what do I even say? Am I supposed to convince her that she can do it? Do I tell her that I was just kidding? That I'm not already halfway to being completely and utterly in love with her? I really don't want to lie to her, but I also don't want to lose her. It's a dangerous tightrope I'm scaling here.

So I don't reply.

That first day without her emails is just a day of fucking disorder. The wind blowing outside is chaotic, and my heart won't stop pounding in my chest because, suddenly, she means so damn much to me. It's insane. I've gone insane.

I need Jasper to tell me that I've gone completely and clinically insane. It's the only explanation for my outlandish thoughts. I barely know this girl.

But I do know her, don't I? I just - I understand her... Which is why I can't bring myself to be mad at her for her last email. If she's feeling anything close to what I'm feeling right now; she probably shouldn't have let it go on for as long as she did. I'm ruined now. She's claimed me and, so long as there's even the slightest chance of us; I shall forever remain hers.

Who knew a movie poster could create such a mess?

We don't talk for four days, and it kills me. I feel like a piece of me is missing whenever I check my email and Isabella Swan doesn't show up. It's pathetic, I know, but I can't help it.

It definitely doesn't help with my already-erratic sleep patterns.

So it's an exhausted, irritable, miserable Edward Masen who finally gives in and emails her. I don't ask any questions about why she can't anymore, but I do want some answers. I deserve answers.

From: Edward Masen
To: Isabella Swan
Subject: Hallowe'en

Dear Bella

I don't really know what's going on, but I reckon that we should probably talk. The Deltas throw a costume party every Hallowe'en. I think that the disguises will make it easier to have a conversation.

This isn't it. I don't want this to be it. Please just meet with me and we'll talk.

How does that sound?

Edward A. Masen
Chapter House President
Sigma Phi Epsilon Fraternity

P.S. I said please.

.

From: Isabella Swan
To: Edward Masen
Subject: Hallowe'en

Dear Edward

Okay. I can do that.

Bella

.

Bella doesn't tell me what she's wearing for Hallowe'en. She allows me twenty Yes-Or-No questions to figure it out, but I don't really bother wasting them on her possible costume. Instead, I ask her about lots of other things. Like, has she ever ever licked an ice sculpture and got her tongue stuck? Or, has she ever knowingly eaten food that was expired?

They're as random as they come, but I really want to know all of it. I want into Bella's mind, and I'm willing to do everything I possibly can.

I even go so far as to ask her if she has any stuffed animals. Surprisingly, she tells me that she does. His name is Finley, and he's a dolphin that her father gave to her when she was eleven. She makes sure to let me know that it was before all of the President stuff; before he became more than just her dad.

I get the feeling that she wants to tell me things, but she's probably worried, or scared. I can only imagine what it must be like to look at everyone in your life and wonder if they are actually being friendly towards you because they like you or because they want something from you.

I haven't seen Bella since Angela dropped off the poster, and I think it's by design. The library has quieted down now that Bella isn't sitting at her usual table in my Wing anymore. I don't know if I'm relieved or not. I want to see her, but I also don't at the same time. I miss her. I don't even know how it's possible, but I do. I desperately do.

Jasper and I talk about it. He isn't exactly helpful, but I think it helps me to discuss everything that's been happening with someone, and who better than the budding psychologist himself? I feel like I'm a little boy whenever I talk to him; like he's quietly judging me. But he understands me, in ways that Emmett doesn't. In ways I sometimes don't even understand myself.

We talk about Bella, and we talk about Riley. Once, we speak about my mom, which makes us talk about my dad. I don't really like talking about my dad, but I appreciate the fact that Jasper doesn't allow me to forget. It'd be a shame to forget, as much as I sometimes want to.

When Hallowe'en finally rolls around, I'm a basket of nerves. I'm generally a calm guy, sometimes coming across as disinterested - though Jessica Stanley can't take a fucking hint - but something about tonight has me on edge. Bella is going to be there. I'm going to talk to Bella.

Jasper, Emmett and I head out just after nine o'clock. There's no point in taking the Orange Beauty. The house isn't that far away, and we're all going to be drinking. Because Jessica is a Delta, I know they'll have Corona. I remember that one time they didn't, and I just had to leave. They've never made that mistake again.

I'm a fucking asshole sometimes.

As for Jasper and Emmett's costumes; everyone else's guess is as good as mine. They've coordinated somehow, talking about some Anime show that I haven't watched. I don't have much time for normal series, let alone the animated kind. They look pretty fucking cool though, and I reckon they're enjoying having to explain themselves every time someone asks them who they're dressed as.

The Delta house is packed when we arrive, and we have to squeeze through the front doors. Emmett makes a bee line for wherever Rose might be, but I know she's not here yet. If Bella isn't here, then Rose isn't either. For some reason, they're friends. I mean, I like Rose. In fact, I'd call her one of my closest friends, but it's just odd knowing that she's friends with Bella. They're just so different... Or maybe they're not. I can't explain it.

My stupid romantic brain sometimes entertains the idea of Jasper, Emmet and I spending the rest of our live with Alice, Rose and Bella.

I'm a fucking comedian.

I'd like to remain anonymous, but arriving with Jasper and Emmett kind of gives me away. It's no use pretending I'm not Edward Masen behind my mask; people were going to figure it out anyway. I just hope that Bella has a little more sense than I do. If anything, I'm sure that Rose will be logical about the whole thing.

Jessica makes sure that I get my Corona. I make sure that it's closed when she hands it to me. I wouldn't put it past her to dose me with something. She's anything but committed. I think that she won't allow herself to leave college until she gets in my bed. I'm pretty sure she's been here longer than Newton has.

Okay, now I'm just being petty. I grab another beer and head outside to the pool where a few people are playing beer pong and attempting to remember the lyrics to Gangsta's Paradise. The fresh air does wonders for me, and I'm able to remain distracted until... well, until Bella gets here.

I feel it in the air when she arrives; like that first night at our party. I can't explain it, but I just know that she's here. I'm less of a madman this time around though. I don't go barrelling into the house, though I do walk briskly. Even though I don't actually know who she's dressed up as, I spot her immediately. Maybe it's the fact that she's already looking at me, I don't know; but I do know that it's her. Without a doubt.

I'd like to say that I'd know those brown eyes anywhere, but they're hidden behind her mask. It's the way she's standing that gives her away. Even though I haven't actually spent a lot of time with her, I would still recognise that body, standing the way that it is, just about anywhere.

Bella's costume isn't surprising. If I had to hazard a guess, I probably would have gone with a Power Ranger, mainly because I've noticed that she has this thing for secret identities. Perhaps it's just the thought of being able to live a normal life, to some extent, that draws her in. Just not to be recognised.

I move towards her at the same time that she starts her cautious walk in my direction. We sort of meet in the middle of the main living room, and I'm grinning like a crazy person under my mask. I'm glad she can't see.

"I was convinced that if you'd ever have to choose, it'd be pink," I say teasingly, eyeing her Power Rangers getup appreciatively.

"To be perfectly honest," she says, obviously knowing it's me behind the mask; "the Green Ranger was always my favourite."

I merely nod, filing away that new piece of information for another time. "Is your favourite colour green then?"

She shakes her head. "It's purple, actually."

I regard her for a moment. To be perfectly honest, I can't actually see Bella liking purple the way that she claims. Believe me, it's nothing against purple. She just seems... I can't explain it. I guess it's just one of those nights, because there seem to be a lot of things I can't explain tonight.

"What's your favourite colour?" she asks.

"It has to be red," I declare. "Or green. Maybe blue... No, definitely red."

She lets out a small giggle. "Is that your final answer?"

Even though I can't actually see her, I'm so fascinated. There's just something about being in her presence that is so disarming, and I never want to go home ever again.

"Is it red because of Spider-Man?" she asks, eyeing my costume.

I chuckle. "Actually, no, it's not," I inform her. "It's because of my dad."

"Is it also his favourite colour?"

I blink. Oh right. She doesn't know that my dad's dead. I haven't told her. "Umm, well, no," I say. "He used to have this old red tool box, you see? One of those that fans out when you open it, with all the layers." I watch her nod. "When I was little, he used to take us out into the garage and let us 'help' him rebuild the engine in his old Corvette, which, incidentally, was also red."

I know I'm doing us both a disservice by not being explicit about the fact that my dad is gone, but I really don't want to talk about that part of my life tonight. I'd rather wait until it's completely necessary. If I'm being really critical, I'd wager that I'm not telling her because I don't want to tell her that I might actually hate her father. Or, rather, his policies.

"Do you want a drink?" I ask, eyeing her empty hands.

Bella also glances down. "I do," she says; "but I probably shouldn't. My prison guards should be around here somewhere, and they're not against reporting back to my father about my behaviour."

I raise my eyebrows, but I don't comment. She is underage. It would be breaking the law. "So just that talk then, huh?"

"It's the only reason I came," she says, and I believe her.

I lead the way back outside. On our way, I drop off my Corona and retrieve two cans of Red Bull. If Bella isn't going to drink, then I won't either. I want to remember every moment of this night anyway, and being inebriated won't help with that.

We sit down cross-legged on the grass of the small slope on the other side of the pool, facing away from the house. It's quieter this side, and there aren't many people around. She's close enough that I can feel the heat of her but we're not touching. I tell myself that I won't touch her, but I can already feel my willpower waning. She's right here. It's so tempting.

"Does your dad still have his Corvette?" she asks once we're both settled.

The rest of the world seems to fall away completely, and it's just the two of us. "He gave it to my brother when he turned sixteen," I tell her. I don't tell her that we were forced to sell it last year. It damn near nearly broke my fragile heart.

"I'm a sucker for old classics," she says, thankfully moving the conversation on. "I was just learning to drive before, umm... well, let's just say that I haven't been allowed to drive since my dad was elected. I can't even roll down the windows."

"That's no way to drive," I comment.

"You're telling me." She sighs dramatically, before she takes one of the cans of Red Bull from where they're perched between my legs. My breath catches when she grazes my thigh, but I don't think she notices. She doesn't open the can immediately. "There was this old, beat-up, completely faded orangey red truck that I bought from my dad's best friend. A 1953 Chevy. I loved that thing."

I can't see her face, but I imagine she looks nostalgic, even wistful.

"I learned how to drive in it, can you imagine? It was literally a big pile of junk, but it was awesome. I mean, nobody really cares what it looks like as long as the radio works. And the air-con, I suppose. It was Phoenix."

"Where is it now?" I ask.

"The Beast? Oh, it's with Bonnie."

I don't say anything, even though I'm a little confused. I have so many questions. I want to know everything, but I'm guessing that it'll be a good idea to pace myself. Don't want to scare her away or something like that.

She opens her can, shifts her mask out of the way and takes a large gulp of the liquid, before quickly sucking in a breath. "This stuff is disgusting, by the way." Then: "My dad promises that we'll go back to the way our lives were before, when his term's over."

"He won't run again?" I ask.

"I suspect he will," she says, her voice barely audible. "It doesn't even matter though. There's no way our lives can go back to the way they were. It's impossible." She drinks some more. "I just want to be able to drive my truck, you know?"

I wish I did, but the truth is that I don't. "I have the largest cap collection on the West Coast," I say, practically blurting it out.

She looks at me. "What?"

I laugh nervously. "I collect caps," I say. "Whenever I go somewhere new, or if anyone I know goes somewhere; they bring me back a cap. I have a lot of caps."

"How many is a lot?"

"How many would make me completely obsessive?"

"More than five hundred."

Oh, I'm definitely not responding now. I don't want the girl of my dreams to think I'm obsessive.

"Edward, no?" she says, shifting her body to look at me, and I almost pass out from the way she says my name. Fuck, it should be illegal for a girl to have a voice that wraps around my name like that. "More than five hundred?"

I nod. "It's a big collection."

"How many?"

"I'm not sure."

"Liar."

I laugh. "Fine, I am sure, but I'm not going to tell you."

"Why?" she whines adorably, and I swear I want to give her everything I possibly can in this great big world.

"I can already feel your judgment."

"The way you judged my phoenixgirl44 email address?" she shoots back, and I grin manically.

I decide it's best to change the subject. "Do you miss Phoenix?" I ask.

"Every day," she says softly, her voice sounding far away. "It was a much easier life back then."

I remain silent, just waiting.

"I mean, Charlie was always a politician," she continues. "It's his life's vocation to help people, and he's always done it well. I just don't think that he or my mom really knew what they were getting us into when they decided that he would run." She lets out a long sigh. "Don't get me wrong, it isn't like they didn't discuss it with us. But, I mean, how do you even say no, Dad, you can't uproot us all in search of your dream? It'd've crushed him."

I just nod.

"It was easier for my brothers, I think," she says. "They're older, and they're boys. I've found that it's different for first daughters and first sons."

"You're also kind of the baby of the family," I point out.

"I see you did your research."

I'm so thankful for my mask right now. My ears are probably as red as my costume. "Emmett might have given me the entire family history when he was done laughing at me after he told me who you were... In fact, I think he still has a good chuckle about it."

She makes a sound that takes me a moment to recognise as laughter.

"Not you too?" I groan.

She moves her hand to cover her mouth, but the mask is already there. It seems that the action only makes her laugh a little harder, and it sounds like music to my ears. "Edward, you have to admit that it's a little funny."

I can't even think when she says my name, let alone agree to bogus admissions.

Her laughter eventually tapers off, and she takes another gulp of her drink. I watch her neck as she swallows, my heart rate rising dangerously. "So you have one brother?" she prompts.

I blink rapidly, coming back to myself. "Uh, yeah, and one sister."

"Older? Younger?"

"Peter is older than me by, uh, seven years," I tell her; "and Tori is younger by four. She's a senior in high school this year."

"Ooh," she sounds; "is she planning on following you here?"

I don't know how to answer that without... well, without possibly crying. "I don't know," I say, finally deciding. "She's her own person, that one. She'd probably just make decisions to spite me, and go somewhere completely different."

"She sounds like my kind of girl."

I smile because, yeah, Bella and Tori would probably get along. "Is that why you picked Chicago?"

She mulls it over for a bit. "It's far enough from D.C. to be comfortable, but not too far that my parents think I'm running away," she says. "For a while there, I actually considered UCLA."

My eyes widen. If she'd gone there; I probably would never have met her.

"But I reckon my dad would have had a myocardial infarction."

I don't know why I laugh. It's just that she sounds so serious, and so playful, at the same time. "Most people would just call it a heart attack," I point out.

"I'm not most people."

Of that, I am all too aware.

"And you're doing pre-med," she points out; "I thought you'd appreciate it."

"Thank you," I say.

"You're welcome." She lifts the can to her lips again, shifting the mask upwards, and I'm mesmerised. She drinks until the can is empty, coughs once, and then sets the little aluminium cylinder down on the grass. "It really is an awful drink," she says. "My throat is burning."

"Should I check you for wings?"

"By all means."

A shiver shoots down my spine. Oh, Bella Bella. Just what are you doing to me?

She doesn't allow me to do anything though, because she reaches for the second can of Red Bull that's still between my legs, and she does more than graze my leg this time. Her forearm practically presses against my hamstring.

"You aren't going to drink this, are you?" she asks.

"I actually brought both cans for you," I force out, my voice sounding slightly strangled.

"So kind," she teases.

I watch her carefully as she opens the can and takes a good gulp. It's easy to tell that she hates the taste of the drink, so I'm a little baffled as to why she's still drinking it. I imagine that she has a truly rebellious side, but she keeps it well-contained. My instincts tell me that she's resisting the urge to rebel with me. As in, I would be the thing she uses to rebel, but she's not.

Does that mean that she cares about me?

Or she doesn't.

Fuck, I hate this.

Bella sips some more of her drink, before holding the can out of me. For a moment, I just stare at it. Her lips have touched that can, and she's offering it to me.

I take the can, shift my own mask upwards and take a swig. "God, that is awful."

She laughs. "It is... but I kind of like it."

I hand the can back to her. "It definitely grows on you; I'll give you that."

Bella bumps me with her shoulder, her tone turning serious. "I'm sorry about, uh, my silence," she says. "I freaked out a little, and I really am sorry about that."

I don't know how to respond to that.

"The thing is, Edward, that we can't," she says. "I can't, and you can't."

"Can't what?" I question.

Her head turns away from me, and I resist the urge to touch her chin to make her look at me. I wish I could see her eyes. I want to know what she's really thinking.

"Bella?" I prompt. "Talk to me. Tell me what you're so afraid of."

Her head drops, her chin coming to rest against her chest. "I don't want to hurt you," she whispers.

"I don't know what that means."

She takes a deep breath. "I'm deeply aware of the fact that I'm living in history, Edward," she says. "It's a lot of responsibility and it's not anything you need."

"Isn't that my decision to make?"

"No, it's not." Her voice is stern. When she lifts her head, I feel the weight of this moment. This is the moment where we make a big decision. "My mom always tells me that I should surround myself with people who lift me up; people who make me better." She leans towards me slightly. "I believe you are one of those people."

"Then I don't see what the problem is," I say.

"I'm not one of those people; not for you," she whispers. "This person that I am right now, Edward, with all that I carry with me, will only bring you down."

I remain silent, mainly because I don't know what to say. I don't know her nearly well enough to dispute her claims accurately enough, but I can't help myself. "That's not true," I say immediately. "Do you know what you've already done to me? There's no going back now."

She shifts away from me. "Don't say things like that," she hisses. "Edward, you can't say things like that."

"But I mean it, Bella."

"I can only be your friend," she says. "That's all I can offer you."

I should accept it. I should just take what she offering but I still shake my head. "Bella?" I practically plead.

"Edward."

I sigh. "Give me the Red Bull."

She hands it to me and I gulp it down until the can is empty. Without thinking, I throw it across the grass, before I stand up.

"I'm going to get another one," I say, and then I stalk into the house. I'm irritated with her, and I'm annoyed with myself. This evening is not going to plan. I just can't decide if friends is all I can handle.

Does it make me a terrible person that I would agree to it just to convince her that we can work well together? I want to be with her. In more than just a friend way. I'd be lying if I said that I was okay with just being her friend. I don't want to lie to her, but I don't want to go through days where it's as if I've never met her.

I grab two cans of Red Bull from the kitchen, and take a swig from an open bottle of vodka. God, that's good. I think that I need it to get through the rest of this night, because I'm sorely tempted to close the gap between us and kiss away all her worries. It's probably a good thing that we're both wearing masks.

Bella is lying flat on her back on the grass when I get back, her eyes focused on the stars above. I wish that I could see her face. I think maybe I should apologise to her, but I don't. Instead, I move to lie down next to her, closer to her than before. Our arms are even touching.

"The city is terrible for star-gazing," she says after a while.

"It is."

"It's even worse than D.C." She sounds defeated. "I don't really feel like I live there," she says. "It feels a little bit like a prison. My entire life there is controlled, and I'm never allowed to be alone."

I turn my head to look at her.

"Are you mad?" she asks, her gaze also on me.

"Are you?"

She reaches for my hand and squeezes it tight. I'm surprised when she doesn't let go, but her grip if so gentle; I can barely feel it. She's holding my hand. She's holding my hand.

"Okay," I say.

"Okay what?"

"Friends."

"Are you sure?"

"Are you?"

She releases my hand.

I sigh. "I'll try, Bella," I tell her; "but I don't know how good I'll be at it. I'm going to try, so you can't just disappear on me if I step over whatever line you've decided to draw between us. You have to tell me if I've done something wrong first, okay?"

"Okay." Then: "It's better this way."

"For who?"

"For you."

For the first time since I met her, I consider that she might be right.

Jasper doesn't wait for his hangover to pass before he asks me how my night with the Green Ranger went. To be perfectly honest, I'm not entirely sure what to tell him. Bella and I had our discussion, and then we just stopped talking about all the serious stuff.

It's easier to talk about everything else.

Even Riley.

Okay, no, that's a fucking lie. I'm confused about Bella but I'm fucking depressed about my nephew.

Maybe it's safer to focus on school, and on work... but even that's somewhat soul-crushing. I feel like all I'm doing is complaining these days, and I've never wanted to be that type of person. My mom would hate that I'm becoming this person.

Is Bella making me this person? Have I always been this person?

The first week of November brings with it the cold cold. Oh, it's my favourite time of year. It's not really much to do with the holiday season fast approaching, but I think it's the weather. I'm a Seattle boy, so I love the cold and the wet. One has to learn to, otherwise every day would be depressing in the State of Washington.

So I love November. It's probably the best month of the year, as far as I'm concerned.

And it isn't even my birthday month.

As part of our reaffirmed friend status, Bella and I text - because friends have each other's phone numbers - continuously. Constantly. About anything and everything. Random and serious. We have about a million conversations running at any one time, and it's the best distraction I can ask for.

For little bursts in my day, I'm allowed to forget everything that's happening at home, and everything that's expected of me here. I have school to worry about, and I have bills to pay. It's always been difficult, but this third year is sucking the life right out of me, but Bella makes it a little better.

I can practically feel the exhaustion in my bones. Bella points it out whenever she sees me, which, incidentally, isn't all that often. We're better when we're not actually in the same room. The world could practically explode, and we wouldn't notice. It's proven to be a problem, and I think it'd be torturous for us to be in the same room and not just be. Whatever the fuck that means.

"Lamb Chop?"

Jasper's voice rips me from my musings, and I look up from whatever textbook is open on my desk. I don't even know what time it is.

"Where's your phone?" Jasper asks me as he casually leans against my door frame.

I don't have a clue. "Uh..." I search through the various pages on my desk until I finally locate it. One press to the Home Button, and I know it'd dead. "Fuck."

"Your mom called," Jasper says, sounding amused. "We had a nice chat, Esme and I."

My head snaps towards him. "Are you...? Did you...?" I stammer. "Fuck, Jazz, did you tell my mom about Bella?"

He raises his eyebrows for a moment, before he bursts out laughing. "Honestly, Masen, I don't know why you haven't told her yet."

"Told her what exactly? What am I supposed to tell her?"

Jasper rolls his eyes. "Honestly, sometimes it's like you place the entire world on your shoulders."

I feel a flash of anger. He knows what I go through.

When I don't respond, he continues. "Just call your mom. There's something she has to tell you."

That piques my interest. "What?"

"Call your mom, Edward."

When he leaves, I do just as I'm told. Well, first I have to plug my phone in to charge, and then wait the seventy thousand years for it to turn on. The moment that my service kicks in, my phone lets out a flurry of sounds: text messages, WhatsApp messages and emails.

I ignore everything in favour of calling my mom. I miss her.

She answers on the second ring. "Edward," she breathes, and I can just imagine her holding back a reprimand. "Jasper tells me you're not sleeping."

Holding back, my ass. I'm going to kill Jasper. Has something to tell me, my ass. "Mom," I grumble.

"Tell me what's wrong, baby."

I grit my teeth. "How are you, Mom?"

"I'm perfectly fine," she says quickly. Too quickly.

"Mom?"

"It was a better day," she says. "Riley and I went to the park today. We had a great day actually."

"What did you do?"

She breathes out, and I can't help my smile. "Well, we had a small picnic, actually," she informs me. "He got tired quite quickly though. His energy levels aren't what they used to be."

"And you?"

"I'm a spring chicken, Edward."

"I miss you, Mom."

She must hear something in my voice, because her own tone drops a notch. "I miss you too, sweetheart." Then: "Are you sure you're okay?"

I'm definitely not okay, but I'm also not not okay. "Mom, I'm just under a lot of stress right now. I'm sure that I'll be fine though. Just taking it one day at a time."

"You'd tell me if you weren't okay though?"

"I'd probably tell Jasper," I tell her, because I don't want to lie to her.

"And then he'd just tell me," she teases with a healthy laugh, and the sound warms my insides in a way that only she can.

I laugh with her, merely enjoying this moment. Then I say something fucking crazy: "There's this girl."

"Oh?"

I close my eyes. "We're just friends," I have to add, because it's an important distinction. "She's something special, Mom, and I can feel myself falling deeper and deeper every day."

My mom squeals. Oh, so that's where I get it from. "Does she have a name?" she asks.

"She does."

She laughs out loud. "And?"

"Her name is Isabella," I say. "Well, she likes to go by Bella."

"Is she pretty?"

"She's beautiful."

My mom is silent for a moment. I don't know if she can hear the affection in my voice, because her teasing tone is gone when she finally speaks again. "Is she good to you?"

I don't know if I can answer this question honestly, so I just repeat myself from earlier. "She's something special, Mom."

Mercifully, she doesn't ask for more about Bella. Instead, she talks about my siblings, gushing over how cute Tori is with her new boyfriend. That makes me uncomfortable. I really don't want to hear about my sister's love-life, but I reason that it's still better than talking about mine.

When she yawns, I draw the conversation to a close. She needs her rest. Once I've bid her goodnight, I sift through all the messages I've missed, most notably one from Bella.

Bella: I had a staring contest with a squirrel today. I'm ashamed to say that I lost.

I can't help the laughter that escapes from me. Truly, this girl is so special. How can I even entertain the thought that she's been anything other than good to me?

Edward: Oh, only you, dearest Bella... By the way, I think you should know that I told my mom about you.

Her reply comes moments later, and it makes me chuckle. This girl is too much sometimes.

Bella: Oh my God! What did you tell her? Was it bad? She hates me, doesn't she? Why would you do that?

Edward: I told her 'things.' She knows that you're beautiful. Couldn't skate around that one, I'm afraid.

Bella: Edwaaard! Just what are you trying to do to me?

I have the crazy idea of telling her that all I'm trying to do is love her, but I have a feeling she won't handle that very well. I've told myself not to push. I think I'm doing an all right job of just being her friend, and now isn't the time to force it.

When I reply, it's something close to what I truly want to say.

Edward: Oh, Bella, you must know by now that all I'm trying to do is make you happy.