The week past much the same. Frozen food and circular conversation with secrets dashed in; and not once did I outwardly question what the hell we were doing.

In my mind, I went over it constantly, but I was chicken-shit about bringing it up. Scared she'd leave; scared she'd stay when I said what I was actually thinking.

The truth was I had no idea what to do with her. If we could've stayed holed up in that apartment forever, it would've been great, but we couldn't, especially because I would only be able to afford it for another month.

But I didn't say that.

I didn't ask her once about why she never left; odd as it was that she didn't. The girl didn't make any calls, she left once to go out for bagels, other than that, she showered in my shower. She wore my clothes and slept in my bed and cooked can soup over my stovetop and watched terrible PBS specials on my television. And I didn't mind.

On the seventh night, we were in my bed, Bella lay her head in my lap and I put my fingers in her shower-wet tangles while she yelled out the wrong answers in reply to Jeopardy.

"I think Alex Trebek is sexy."

"You're a freak."

"It's his intelligence. And that way he gets cocky about having all the right answers on his little card," Bella said, her cheek shifting on my thigh.

"You're still a freak."

"He's handsome. Tell me one of yours."

"Uh. Salma Hayek."

"That's not an odd crush. That's an understandable, universal crush."

"Ok. When I was a little kid I wanted Prairie Dawn to be my girlfriend."

"Who's that?"

"That little pink and blonde muppet on Sesame Street?"

"Telly?"

"No, Telly was fuschia and a…monster? Prairie Dawn was the thing who was always writing plays and stuff and then she'd get all mad—"

"The anal retentive puppet? And I'm a freak?" Bella asked, sitting up, flicking her wet hair on me.

"I was like five."

"But still," Bella said, knotting her hair on top of her head, then coming back down when I reached for her.

"Shut up. Go back to smut-thoughts about Trebek."

"Okay. Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you want me to like, wear more pink blush or—"

"Shut up."

"I could hum the ABC's when I blow you or—" she got cut off in a shriek when I flipped her over and smiled, the tip of my nose touching hers.

"I'll take silent fellatio for five hundred," I told her, then she slipped beneath me and took my pants with her.

Early the next morning, I checked my email for the first time in way too long, then immediately put my head in my hands.

"What?" Bella asked, my toothbrush hanging from her mouth.

"I have no idea what I'm doing."

"You established that."

"There's a shit ton of surplus left from the shop that has to be stored until it can be sold or repo'd or whatever. Emmett gives the keys back today."

"So?"

"So we have nowhere to put it and neither of us can afford that kind of storage. He should just fucking burn it all."

"At least you're not dramatic about it."

"You just…nevermind."

"Just what?"

"You don't get it."

"You didn't explain it."

"I tried. I can't."

"What? Worst case scenario, it sits there and the bank or who ever owns the building now takes care of it."

"We can't just let it go, it's got value…and it means a lot. To me."

"You just said he should burn it."

"You just—"

"Don't get it. Because you're so emotional and complex and no one can get you. Right. Like I don't get you? Like I don't fit perfect right there in that little spot on the bed, right under your arm—"

"Nothing fits with me!" I snapped. "I don't have any shape to even fit with!"

"What are you saying right now?"

"I'm saying…what are you doing?"

"You don't even know what you're doing, so—"

"Really, what are you doing? You've been here for over a week, you didn't leave to go to Aeropostale, you didn't call anyone to let them know where you were, you don't have a home to go check on? Or food getting bad or something? Seriously. What are you doing?" I asked, my eyes narrowing, just picking, just because I didn't want to have to pick myself apart.

Bella's face went red then white, and she backed away, clapping her hands slowly.

"Kudos, Edward. You figured me out," she said, her voice trying so hard to have a sharp edge, but it was wobbly instead. "No one gives a damn where I am or how long I've been gone. You could plaster this mug on a milk carton and no one would recognize it. Idiot. No."

"Bullshit. You're all over me about my shit, but you're definitely hiding from something out there."

"That's…" she sighed with an ironic laugh and kicked my pants off, then searched for her own.

"That's what? That's the truth?" I prodded.

She pulled her own pants on, then stuffed her feet into the shoes that had been on the floor near the foot of my bed all week.

"Are you wanted for stealing? Did your life coach boyfriend bail or something? Let's talk about your shit for awhile."

"You're so off about all of it," Bella said, grabbing her bag from the top of my dresser.

"I don't think I am. I think you—"

"This is it, right? The ultimate Pull Out King, Edward Cullen!" she said, making a sweeping gesture with her hand.

"What are you even talking about?" I asked, flopping back on the bed.

"That's what you do," she said, then actually kicked at my feet. "You pull out. You open your email, the first thing you do is lay in that bed, pull right out. Your girl leaves and your store goes under, and you try to pull out of life."

"I didn't. It just didn't matter—you have no idea what you're talking about—"

"As soon as you're done or as soon as something is done with you, it just doesn't matter, you just pull right out. And now you're doing it to me. You're a coward and your own ambition scares you."

"Don't you have a shift at—"

"Yes! Aeropostale! I do!," she thundered, red in the face and swinging her bag around. "And maybe if I show up on time, they'll promote me to sweater fucking management! And it will be something and it will be okay! Because I'm not scared!"

"This is so fucking ridiculous," I laughed. "Thanks for the week. Thanks for stealing my shit. Goodbye."

"Goodbye," she huffed and went for the door, but paused and turned around.

"What?"

"For the record, I didn't stay because I was hiding from anything. I stayed to hide out with you. I stayed because I thought I belonged here with you."

She turned and left.

I thought I'd let my eyes close and lay in the notch, but I couldn't sleep.

It was almost getting funny, really. It was like a game of how much I could completely fuck up and I was winning by a landslide.

It's just…the other crap fell to the wayside, kind of, because all I could really do was lay on my side and wonder where she went and what words I could say to bring her back, but none would come.