Disclaimer: The usual. Meyer's owns all.

AN: Wanted to thank my beta, Dawning Juliet, as always. She goes above and beyond (pushing off college papers-Miss PhD-I'm like a proud mother) to tackle my work and it doesn't go unnoticed. Thank you. I also wanted to thank my readers for sticking with me these few (long) months. I know Thanksgiving just passed but still, I'm beyond greatful. That being said lets get on with the show-story, whichever.

Chapter Four

The Screaming Orgasm

"Swan, table for two please," I huffed to the hostess inside the Cabana Cafe.

I had counted to a hundred in my head before exiting the bathroom, smiling since Cullen was long gone. His ego had always been a huge trigger—I wasn't surprised he took off so quickly. I grinned at the prospect of him sulking away somewhere in one of the hotels guest rooms with his lunch fu- date. Try getting it up now, you bastard, I thought, smirking to myself.

"Your party hasn't arrived yet, Miss Swan, but please follow this way."

"Party?" I asked as she led me over to an artfully arranged table set for four that faced the bar and was closest to the pool.

"Mr. Cullen requested a table."

Well, that wasn't going to work.

"Oh." I smiled tightly. "How presum- nice of him," I corrected myself quickly. "I'd prefer one in the back though, if that's possible?"

"Absolutely, ma'am."

"Thank you." I slipped into a green and white striped booth, throwing my bag carelessly on the vinyl bench.

"Your drink will be sent over within a few minutes. Feel free to look at our menu in the meantime, and I will send over the rest of your party when they arrive. Enjoy, Miss Swan."

"Excuse me," I shouted to her retreating form. "I didn't order a drink."

"One was ordered for you, Miss," she flippantly answered, her hands gesturing to her side. "Compliments of the gentleman by the pool." She smiled tightly once more—it could have been a botched Botox job—but then again, maybe not. I heard her huffing as she walked away.

The booth I purposefully chose gave me full view of the entire pool, bar, and courtyard while minimizing camera-happy spectators. Charlie had no problem with the attention, whereas I found it intrusive at any given time, and even more so while trying to eat. I'd take the greasiest burger on the menu over a salad any day of the week. Ketchup lingering in the corners of your mouth was not a flattering look in the least.

If Cullen and his guest dared to show, I hoped he'd miss us and leave, but not before I got a good look at this 'date'—for lack of a better word. I kept telling myself it was just curiosity. Just pure, simple curiosity.

I was jostled out of my train of thought when a drink was placed on a napkin in front of me.

"What is this?" I asked.

"Mr. Cullen," The bartender pointed to the direction of the poolside cabanas and lounges, "ordered you a Between the Sheets, ma'am." He stuttered, clearly embarrassed. "If there is any mistake—"

"No. No mistake," I sputtered. So that's where he disappeared to, although I was not surprised. If Cullen wasn't between the sheets himself up in some swanky hotel room, it would only make sense that he would be out by the pool ogling the women clad in tiny swim attire. Nice to know—pathetic really—some things never changed.

Two could play at this game. "What is in it exactly?" I asked, fingering the rim of the bright yellow concoction that sat in front of me upon a monogrammed cocktail napkin. I peered in the direction to where Cullen sat surrounded by his harem, who were—just as I suspected—dressed in swimsuits that barely covered their glaringly obvious boob jobs. He had removed his suit jacket and had the sleeves of his collared shirt rolled up to his elbows, sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. The sunlight made his auburn hair seem impossibly redder than usual. I had the sudden urge to wrap my fingers in his hair… and rip it out.

"White rum, Cointreau, cognac, and lemon juice," he rattled off, cutting off my train of thought. Cullen didn't need any more admirers. Not that I was admiring. I absolutely wasn't.

"That's a mouthful, but I think I understand the name better now. Thanks," I said with a tinkling laugh.

"The ancestor of the Silk Panties, Slippery Nipples, Screaming Orgasms, and other ungodly concoctions that so titillate the Abercrombie & Fitch set. Between the Sheets." He gestured towards the untouched martini glass. "It dates back to Prohibition when the nation's moral fiber wasn't what it ought to have been. Clearly." He smirked looking towards the pool. "But then again, neither was the nation's liquor supply," he explained as if any of this mattered or made any sense to me. It didn't.

"So the kinky name?..."

"Was a perversion along with its smutty name. Too much alcohol mixed together if you ask me." He shrugged. "We were a bit leery when combining too many main liquors together like this as it would supposedly have led to very sudden intoxication." He smiled giddily while rubbing his hand down the front of his apron. "I was proud—shocked, I meant shocked—that Mr. Cullen would have known of such a drink, let alone the contents." His chest puffed out like a proud pigeon.

"I wouldn't put anything past Mr. Cullen," I growled, looking towards the pool before fixing a tight smile towards the waiter. "Assuming drinks such as this included."

"If your mood will not support the lingering vulgarity," he said as he chuckled and wiggled a single eyebrow—creeper alert—"might I suggest the enigmatically named but très suave Cosmopolitan?"

"This will be fine." I blushed. Edward-fucking-Cullen—douche-bag extraordinaire. I had no intentions of putting my mouth near anything he sent my way. "Tell me about this Slippery Nipple."

"A college male's fantasy." He coughed and adverted his eyes. "It is a sweet, creamy shot."

That was the reaction I had in mind. Perfect. I felt devil horns begin to protrude from the sides of my head.

"Perfect." I smiled—a bit too sweetly. "Please send over an extra fine nipple as a 'thank you' to our Mr. Cullen."

"Right away, Miss Swan," the bartender said. He laughed as he walked back to the bar.

I stared off in the direction of the cabana to which Cullen's back had remained in my peripheral view. Granted, I would have loved to see his face pale as recognition took hold—did he forget that unlike his present company, I did in fact have a backbone? His guests' reactions would have to suffice. Hopefully his they'd understand the implied message in the drink, uncanny as it were, along with Cullen's real intentions. If they had any brains and an ounce of moral fiber they would leave, with disgust clear upon their faces. Then again, by the looks of it—and Cullen being an ingenious prick—they might even take him up on the sexual innuendo.

Pulling the offending drink closer, I bent forward to sniff it. "Holy hangover," I mumbled as I sat back and reached into my bag to grab my phone. I quickly stabbed out a few replies to some friends' text messages and sent yet another message to Renee that would most likely go unanswered for a few hours at least. Oh well, I tried.

"That took longer than expected. I'm sorry Bells," Charlie huffed as he sat down in the booth across from me.

"It's okay, dad." I shrugged. "You're here now, right?"

"Always, Bells, always." His mustache twitched in the corner and a smile pulled at his lip as he pocketed his cell phone. I missed him more then I'd ever let on, and I suddenly felt as if I were on cloud nine again. Just me and my dad. No assistants, no phone calls, no camera flashes. No one to bother us, Cullen included. Life was good. I couldn't help but smile to myself.

"So what looks good, kid?" he asked, picking up the menu.

"I haven't even—" I began, but was cut off by a few loud laughs coming from the direction of the pool. "Oh God," I stammered, trying not to freak out in public and in front of my father and clamped my hands down on to the table's edges. This wasn't what had played out in my mind.

I noticed Charlie turn a quick shade of red before averting his eyes to read his menu. "Kids these days. I'll never understand them, that's for sure," he grumbled, shaking his head.

I was completely mortified. Facial recognition took hold as Cullen's entourage and the man himself had now turned to face us.

Rosalie Hale—the fast-tracked Hollywood starlet and model—stood front and center in all of her bikini-clad glory, with a raised shot glass. Cullen sat in a deep plush seat while resting his chin on his steepled fingers, sporting a gleeful accusatory grin. Another woman sat on his other side, her features harder to make out. She sported large-rimmed sunglasses that completely devoured her face and wore a silk scarf draped over her hair and tied into a knot on the side. Her grin, however, was as unmistakable as Cullen's. With a sultry wink in my direction, the bombshell waved her free hand at her drink and shot it back in a quick, fluid motion. Waving the shot glass above her head, she turned to the admirers of the slippery nipple and took an exaggerated bow. She stood up and made one more show of smoothing out her bikini top while tossing her ringlets over her shoulder, perching on the arm rest of Edward's chair. Hoots, hollers, and applause could be heard across the cafe and lounge as I slid down into the booth. I picked up the menu, placing it directly in front of my face.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Swan, Miss Swan," the waiter said in greeting. "May I start you off with anything to drink?" I zoned out after placing my order while Charlie apologized for the umpteenth time and pulled out his phone to answer a few emails while we waited. I knew it wouldn't have remained untouched in his pocket for long, but felt blessed enough that it had only been the two of us to dine together. I'd take what I could get.

I dug into my burger with a vengeance; I hadn't realized how hungry I'd actually been. It was most likely past my normal lunch time in New York and I had already skipped breakfast. My plate was cleared in record time, and I sighed, feeling full as I threw my napkin onto the table with a glutton's huff causing, Charlie to laugh.

"So there are a few things I wanted to talk to you about today, kid," Charlie started as he dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin after having devoured his lunch as well. He stalled, as if choosing his words carefully while picking at a few stray sweet French fries and rearranging them artfully on his plate.

"Shoot. What's going on in that head of yours?" I laughed a bit nervously.

"Here goes." He sighed as he pushed the plate away and clasped his hands in front of him on the table. "Christmas is coming up and I've decided to give Sue a bit of a break for the holidays, what with Seth being home and all. I thought it would be nice for the both of them to spend some time together before he graduates college. He's already mentioned that this might be the last Christmas he has close to home for a while." My eyebrows shot up upon hearing that. "Depending on what company he signs with, he'll likely have to relocate." I frowned, but understood. I did just relocated to the other side of the continent. Charlie nodded and cleared his throat awkwardly. "Having said that," he paused. "I've agreed to a change of scenery this year."

"What kind of scenery did you have in mind, dad?" I asked, my voice already betraying my apprehension. If my memory served me correctly, I was sure I wasn't going to like what came out of his mouth next. Charlie at least had the decency to look a little abashed, but quickly steeled himself as his eyes locked onto mine from across the table, firm and set—like his decision always were. Shit.

"We're going to be spending the holidays in the Bahamas."

"Oh." I could have been—

"With the Cullen's."

"WHAT!" I shouted, unable to hold back. "Dad—"

"Before you start—" Charlie held his hand up to cut me off mid-rant, knowing that if I continued, it would have been one of epic proportions.

"You can't be serious!"

"Bella, calm down," he pleaded, nervously looking over his shoulder as a few heads turned in our direction. I quickly looked to where Cullen was. He was gone. Double shit. I wondered if he knew about this. That thought alone had made my temper rise even more.

"Does Cull—"

"Edward." My father sighed and looked to his left, the coward that he was.

"Fine then, Edward," I spat. "Does he know?"

"That all depends," a smooth, entertained voice cut in from my side as I felt the cushion below me sink down from his weight. "I know a lot of things Bella." He smirked and winked.

"Speak of the devil, and he shall appear," I bit back, looking over at him.

"Now, now, there's no need for such hostility," he said, smirking like a cat who just ate the canary. "Charlie." He nodded across the table, earning a chuckle from my father. What I wouldn't give to smack that smile right off his face. But I'm not a violent person. Cullen just might be the one to change that.

"I was just telling Bells here about our plans for the holidays," Charlie added.

"He knew?" I shrieked, throwing an accusatory finger towards Cullen. Embarrassment started to creep its way up my stiff spine. I felt hurt at having been left out of the loop. My conversation in the car with Sue suddenly made sense. I felt like a fool—I had obviously been the last to know. "Did you give Sue a gag order too?" I growled.

"Stop screaming, Bella," Charlie warned, holding up a finger to silence me while answering a phone call. Figures, I huffed inwardly. Some reunion this was turning out to be. Maybe I'd take one of those stiff drinks after all.

"I'll give you something to scream about," Cullen whispered into my ear, catching the bottom lobe between his teeth.

I growled and elbowed him in his gut, grinning when I heard the air leave his mouth. I rubbed the side of my neck where unwanted tingles traveled across my shoulder blades, up the base of my neck and further down then I wanted to contemplate at the moment with present company—thankfully, said company was too absorbed to have noticed. "You're such an asshole." I fumed, knocking my head in Charlie's direction.

"I've been called worse." He shrugged, entirely unrepetant, his eyes bright and full of mirth.

"I'm sure you have."

"You," he pointed out, leaning his head closer once more, causing me to rear back, "have called me worse."

"That I have," I readily agreed, trying to hold back a smile, inching as far away from him as the seat would allow. "Leave me alone Cullen."

This was the problem—one of many—with Edward Cullen. You couldn't stay mad or annoyed with him. Let me clarify. I couldn't stay as mad as I had wanted to for long periods of time. God knows I'd tried.

Family and close friends had argued that we were two peas in a pod growing up, a fact that I would have to disagree with wholeheartedly. We had similar personalities and a sick, twisted sense of humor. We had understood and agreed with each other more often than not—up until puberty.

Unfortunately I'd come to find at an early age that sometimes people will develop huge, unending—devastatingly so—crushes on people you should not have crushes on. I guess that's what happens when you're young, stupid, and forced to spend large amounts of time together.

I learned my lesson the hard way, and in more ways than one.

"Not one of my finer moments," he said, bringing me back to reality.

I knew what he was implying. Well, shit if that hadn't gone south rather quickly. I had to try to diffuse the suddenly tense atmosphere. His decision to inadvertently hint at a heavy subject along with his carefully chosen, loaded words had caused a sharp pain in my stomach.

"Cullen—"

"I've got to run," he sighed, leaning out of the booth. "Tell Charlie I'll speak to him soon." He nodded at my father and stood up to leave. My father bobbed his head in recognition while continuing his conversation. I didn't bother to listen.

I watched Edward make his way over to his group that'd sat idly by the pool, and I noticed that Jasper Whitlock had joined them. I smiled at the sight of my old friend I hadn't seen in ages, but it fell just as quickly as I noted that it had been my own fault that we'd lost touch. Promises made to keep in contact had crumbled, and I only had myself to blame. If given the chance to run over to him and apologize for being such a horrible friend, I would have, regardless of how I thought it would turn out. He deserved to hear those words from me for all he had helped me through in the past. I felt like a complete tool. Unfortunately due to his inner circle, I doubted I would be saying much to him any time soon; that was a conversation I'd rather have without others around to scrutinize, fabricate, falsify or add their own snide remarks over. My words were for Jazz, and Jazz alone.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" the waiter asked me directly, having seen Charlie was still on his phone call. I shook my head and asked for the bill. I refolded the napkin on the table and busied my hands so that I wouldn't look back over to where my old friends looked to be having a good time. Our bonds seemed from a lifetime ago. It hurt that they couldn't be in the present, but those were my own demons and partially my own fault, but I wouldn't lose any more sleep over it. One of my favorite holidays, one that I had been looking forward to for the most part, suddenly felt like a meeting with the gallows.

"Your bill has already been taken care of, as well as your bar tab," he said as he slipped the black leather folder onto the table along with another drink. "I was asked to deliver this as well."

"Do I even want to know the name?" I asked, blushing already and looking up to find that Charlie was currently distracted typing something out furiously on his phone.

He pointed to the leather credit card holder and walked away smiling.

Intense foreplay today Swan.

Looking forward to the holidays even more this year.

Enjoy your Screaming Orgasm.

-EC

I giggled—I couldn't help it—and raised the glass to my lips to take a sip. It was sweet, but burned my throat due to the probable heavy amount of vodka I tasted. Too bad it had such a horrible name. I would have definitely had another if I hadn't had to ask for one personally.

I looked back over to Cullen to raise the empty class, but noticed he had already left.

Some would argue that when the going got tough, I had been the one to bail. They had it wrong. Cullen usually bailed. I just followed suit.

Christmas should be inebriated—I meant interesting—this year, that was for sure. Duty Free was already calling my name, and I suddenly knew what everyone was getting this year from me.

AN: Promise not to wait too long again. I'm learning to push things aside to have a little more "me time" these days. Call it an early New Year's Resolution if you will.

Happy holidays everyone!

-Kris Bliss