July 8th, 1996

"Should I…talk to your dad?" I ask the day after your little meltdown. We're sitting in my room, going through my CDs and deciding what I should and shouldn't take when we move.

"What? No!" You crumple up your empty Sour Patch Kids bag and throw it at me playfully. "I'm not worried about that."

"Could've fooled me. You seemed pretty upset about it before."

"I tend to overreact when I have PMS."

"Oh my god, Bella." I push the heels of my palms against my eyes. It makes sense now that your mom asked you that before.

"What? You'll have to get used to that sort of thing if we're gonna live together."

This is news to me. "Live together, huh?"

"I'm sure we'll shack up eventually."

Pulling you into my arms, I laugh and kiss the top of your head. "Trust me. If we could get away with it, I'd move in with you tomorrow."

"Maybe we'll have cool roommates who don't mind disappearing once in a while," you say, yawning and stretching out on the floor.

"Maybe." We go back to sorting through my CDs and listening to Nirvana and making big plans for our big future.

You're a list maker. And you're forcing me to be one, too. Actually, the list is in your handwriting, so basically I'm just doing as I'm told.

"You're going to need two sets of bedsheets," you say, making a tick mark on your notepad.

"Why two?"

"What'll you use while you wash the others?"

"How long does it take to wash sheets?"

You eye the mountain of laundry on my floor. "Well, knowing you, they'll sit in a pile in the corner until you actually get around to washing them, so yeah. You need at least two."

"Can't you just wash them for me?"

"Seriously?"

"Well, I was but—"

"Okay." Dropping the list, you slump into my desk chair and bang your forehead against the desk. "Maybe your mom should help you with this crap."

"But it's so much more fun this way," I tease, tugging your ponytail and kissing the back of your neck.

"Yeah, if you'd cooperate."

"Okay. I'll be good." I pick your notepad up from the floor and skim the list. "You didn't write 'supersized box of Trojans' on here."

"That's it." You jump up and tackle me, and we land on a heap of my laundry, laughing and wrestling. Using your knees, you pin my arms at my side. "We don't use those anymore anyway."

"Sexual exploration. Aren't we supposed to find ourselves in college? What if we find ourselves with a third—"

"That'll be enough of that, Romeo."

I chuckle and roll you over onto your back, silencing you with my mouth on your neck.

"Ew," you say absentmindedly. "Are these your dirty clothes?"

"Mmf."

"Gross, Edward. Please don't tell me I'm lying on your cleanup towel or something. If you know what I mean."

I raise my head and give you a smug grin. "I don't need one of those. I've got you. No solo love here."

"Oh, really? I seem to recall this one night on the phone when I was out of town a couple of weekends ago…"

"Oh, yeah. That." Turning my attention back to your neck, I can't help smiling against your skin. "Yeah. That was a good night."

You gasp. "I wasn't even here!"

"Okay, so it wasn't as good, but… Trust me. There was a good bit of cleanup after that. Fourth most erotic experience of my life."

"Mmm." Your head lolls to the side when I graze your skin with my teeth. "Wait, there's a top four? What were the first three?"

Sneaking my hand between your legs, I put my lips to your ear and whisper, "The first time I made you come."

A whimper drops from your mouth as I press my thumb against the seam of your shorts.

"Our first time together." I work my way underneath and find the edge of your panties.

"Oh," you whine.

"The first time we did it from behind." My fingers find wet skin and immediately start rubbing small, tight circles. "You want the rest of the list?"

"Yeah," you breathe.

"The first time I felt you without a condom."

Your hands go to my hair.

"The first time I went down on you."

Another whimper.

"The first time you went down on me."

"Edward," you whine, and I know you're close.

"The time we went on a hike and did it against a big rock."

You tense and fall apart in my arms, humming into my mouth as I kiss you hard. I listen and feel and take your cues, stilling my hand when you come down.

"Jesus," you murmur.

"Mm." My lips are attached to your neck again.

"Wait. That last one…"

"Mm-hmm."

"That didn't happen."

I detach and admire my handiwork—a nice red circle at the bottom curve of your neck. "No, but there are lots of cool places for hiking in northern California."

A/N: I'm really sad to say that things are starting to wrap up. :( From the looks of things, there'll be one more chapter and then the epilogue. Thanks so much for reading and for all the lovely things you say. Love to Rachelfish for being my sounding board and my "f'real bff, dude."