My beta Dawn is incredible, and her guidance really helped me through this chapter. Thank you forevers.

Thursday.

The rest of the week passed far too quickly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I hadn't spoken to Edward since Monday. We had seen each other every day and had even stayed late together on Wednesday night, but he had given me nothing more than a nod from across the room and his small, crooked smiles. As it turned out, I was a complete hypocrite: In spite of my reluctance over the past two weeks to get too close to him, I was now undeniably troubled as to why he hadn't approached me again since our confusing confrontation in the dark lobby. It was baffling. Where I used to wish for him to keep his distance, a very selfish and not-so-insignificant part of me desperately wanted him to approach me, even if it was only to ask me for the fucking time.

I craved his comfort. I craved his warmth. I fucking craved him.

I had spent hours replaying the few moments we had shared; reliving the thrill and shame, the sound of hollow footsteps and the heat of his skin… only to realize that, ultimately, I didn't know what the fuck had happened that night.

A million different scenarios ran through my head to rationalize the distance he was keeping from me: He had been exceptionally busy with clients over the last few days. He felt the same nervousness and uncertainty that I did, and he was simply unsure of how to proceed now after… whatever happened, if anything. Or… he was just freaked the fuck out. Any of those seemed to be perfectly reasonable, given my pathetic performance on Monday.

However, there was a fascinating, unexpected consequence to our interaction: Edward's calm, quiet question, his gentle request to "just try," had - for lack of a better description - shifted something inside of me. It had moved the doubts and the ache and the self-loathing aside just so, and made room for a new, quiet… determination.

The turmoil that I had been struggling with for over a week now had been replaced by a buzzing calm that actually stayed with me and took me through each day as an observer instead of a quivering, stuttering mess. Despite the tumult my life had been colored with, Edward had, inexplicably, helped me feel… better.

When he had said it, a part of me knew: I did want to try. It's precisely what Alice had been saying to me all along, but it was Edward's soft, pleading request that brought the two parts of me together: the hope and the guilt, the hesitant optimism and the burning chaos. I wanted to change, to live, to be successful and maybe find myself a little happier in the process. I wanted to try for Jasper, because of his easy, unwavering forgiveness and friendship. For Alice, because of her fierce, unconditional love for me. For Edward… even though he didn't know it, and never would.

But even if I couldn't have him that way, and I certainly couldn't seem to avoid him… I figured that I could at least try to appreciate his presence, right? Professionally, of course… but I also couldn't deny facts: He felt so fucking good when he was standing close to me, the peace, the electric snap of his eyes and hands… I wanted it. Needed it. He made me feel like I could get through… this. Even though he didn't even know he was doing it, I would selfishly take it to bolster my own unsteady strength.

However, in the midst of this tentative self-awareness, I absolutely needed to remember to take Edward's words at face-value: he wanted to get to know me, and that was it. I couldn't make him want more, simply because a silly, naïve, pitiful part of me wished it were so… it just wasn't possible. I understood that my… ugh, my feelings toward him were one-sided, but he was at least interested in me being comfortable about him, and that had to be good enough.

I was acutely aware that this whole situation was impossible, bizarre, strange… but it felt so goddamn good and I felt so much freer, my muscle less tense and my face less like granite… I went with it, trying not to question or over-analyze it, to enjoy my brief respite from… well, from me.

I also tried to ignore Isabella when she piped up and whispered about how I was inevitably going to fail again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The rest of my work week was… different.

Edward's unknowing support made me feel safer there: not as defensive, and less like a caged animal. It was oddly empowering. Instead of staring down at the rich mahogany of my desk, I dared to watch the people around me, to observe my environment… and not even the cold, wretched distance that was my norm, but rather a quiet curiosity. It was like I was seeing my surroundings through new eyes.

I hadn't seen Charlie once, and that was fine with me. Mike shot daggers at me every chance he got, but had yet to grace me with a morning visit. It was the best present he could have given me. Jessica had tried on multiple occasions to make a big show of whispering and none-too-subtly gesturing at me from across the room, but I paid her surprisingly little mind.

I worked, and watched.

Alice had even noticed a difference. Though she never directly mentioned it, I could tell from her secret smiles and ever-telling facial expressions. She and I had spent every night of the week together, during which we had talked about everything but work. We made dinner together, and ran, and giggled like teenagers again.

It felt like I was coming home after a long time away.

I didn't tell her about my moment with Edward, about my weird stuttering breakdown or his soft, confusing, wonderful request. I kept mute on the event for a couple reasons: One, I knew that the minute I told her that something had passed between Edward and me, she would most certainly not leave me alone until we had dissected every last millisecond of the exchange, and she might annoy me to the brink of death.

But my other reason… well, I just wasn't ready to share Edward with anyone else. Talking about it made it real, him real, and I was afraid that saying it out loud would sound as stupid as deep down I knew it really was… and this calm, this observance, this just being felt too good to have it ruined by my over-analyzing. I had decided that I would fess up to her sometime later, perhaps after this project with the Cullens was over and I wasn't working directly with Edward anymore… when everything was back to normal. I would hopefully be able to look back on this tumultuous time and laugh about how neurotic I had been, and how ridiculous it was to think that a fantasy creature like Edward Masen could look at me with anything other than sympathetic, friendly eyes.

Besides, a part of me figured that Alice already knew; she always just knew. She kept her questions locked away, instead simply smirking at me through expectant pauses, and laughing at my continued silence. I was confident that she knew I would tell her when I was ready, and I was grateful for her trust.

Throughout the whole week, however, I was quietly surprised and thrilled that Alice actually spoke quite a bit about Jasper.

It had started with offhand observations about him from Friday; something funny he said, his fantastic top hat, his gawky, sweet dance moves. She volunteered information to me that I normally would have had to drag out of her, kicking and screaming: How nice it was to see him again. How fun it was to hang out with him, and she'd never seen those pants on him before. Interestingly, her observations were frequent and grew increasingly detailed: his hands were huge in relation to his long lanky limbs. Did I know he spoke fluent Italian and American Sign Language? And she'd never noticed that his eyes weren't totally grey, (steel grey, she had specified) but they had some golden flecks mixed in, too, like an alloy of precious metals, all swirled together….

Thursday night, she was going on and on about how long his legs were when I interjected, "Alice… do you know what you sound like?" She cocked her head at me, continuing to stir her tomato sauce. "A teenager. With a crush."

Alice bristled. I observed her shoulders stoop lower, her little arms tightening to her sides.

"No I don't. Jasper is just nice. A really good friend." Her back shook with her increasingly vigorous circular motions. "It's not like that."

I approached her slowly. Wrapping my arms around her tiny waist, I laid my cheek on top of her head and said softly, "Who are you trying to convince?" I smiled. "Me or you?"

But she shook me off. "No, Bella, for real." She stirred harder than necessary, tiny red orbs splashing viscously up onto her pink apron. "I don't do crushes. I'm not that stupid to get involved with anyone again. I don't need that shit." Her voice wavered, and she cleared her throat.

I immediately recognized that I'd pushed her too hard. I stepped away and placed a kiss on the back of her spiky head. "Of course. I'm just being stupid. Sorry, babe."

She threw a sheepish smile over her shoulder. I grinned back, letting her know it was okay, that she didn't need to explain anything to me. I went back to chopping mushrooms.

"So…" She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. "We're on for tomorrow, right? Friday night at the bar, take two?" She was trying hard to keep her tone even and nonchalant, so as not to spook the wild animal. I rolled my eyes.

"Nice try, cupcake. I'm out this week."

She pouted. "Bells, come on. It was fun, remember? I know it was stressful and at times a little… awkward, blah blah blah… but it was fun, right? You said so yourself…"

I huffed, frustrated. She'd been quiet about this subject for days, biding her time… but I had known it was coming.

And of course I'd thought about it all week… Laughing with Alice in the dim bar lights… waltzing with Jasper, my cheek on his chest… it was great. The dancing was okay, too, if I was really coming clean. Damn her. Well, all except the whole humiliating myself in front of my co-workers thing.

I briefly thought of Charlie's scathing criticism, of his cold brown eyes and his hurtful questioning of my ethics… I shook my head, pushing the image away.

"Yes. It was fun," I admitted. Alice opened her mouth, but I headed her off before she could get started. "But Alice, I can't do that again. At least not so soon…"

She jumped at the opening. "So you're saying you would do it again, then?"

Ugh. "Maybe. Yes. But…"

"Then this is the perfect time, Bells. Why wait? The right time will never just come... Please," she held up her hands, brandishing the red wooden spoon like a weapon. "Just think about it, okay? That's all I ask. I'll call you tomorrow toward the end of the day, and if you decide absolutely not, I will back off. But be aware," she pointed the utencil at me, "I will punish you at the gym for your cowardice."

I sighed. A part of me recognized that I was going down without putting up much of a fight… but I ignored it.

I had to try again. I promised Alice. I promised Edward. I promised myself.

I went back to assaulting the mushrooms.

"Enough, you persistent bitch. I'll decide tomorrow."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Friday.

The day roared past me like a friggin' freight train.

Through my simmering nerves, the bright shining spot for me was that the Cullen account was going exceedingly well. Our preliminary projects were in full swing and everything was going exactly as I'd hoped it would. In fact, I ended up being ahead of my projected schedule… which left me with nothing to do but dread Alice's phone call.

For the hundredth time, I stole a glance at Edward and Emmett. They were huddled together at the IT desk and had been working on something all afternoon that looked pretty intense; neither one had come up for air for the last three hours or so. Their concentration allowed me glances at Edward's profile whenever Emmett's bulk wasn't in the way, and each time my eyes mapped his jaw line, took in the shell of his ear peeking out from beneath his mop of bronze waves… I felt a wave of peace. It was bizarre, embarrassing… and addicting.

Hell, even Charlie Swan himself had emerged from his office. It was strange to see him out of his cave; he rarely spent any length of time in the bullpen, instead preferring to stay exclusively in his office, unless he was out with a client. Now, he had been standing at Angela's desk for quite some time and appeared to be quite annoyed with something on her computer screen. When Charlie's attention was momentarily diverted, I looked at Angela pointedly; she covertly raised her arms as if she were asking for a dance.

"The Gala," she mouthed.

I paused. It was not lost on me that I had just had a causal, outward exchange with a co-worker across the room, and I hadn't collapsed into a puddle of nerves.

Shit. That's… different. Isabella lucked behind me and scowled, not unlike her father.

Jasper must have sent me fifteen emails throughout the day about going out that night, each composed in haiku form. Promptly at 5pm, my Outlook dinged.

Dancing shoes are on,

The musty bar beckons us.

Bells, will you wimp out?

I had just deleted it when my phone rang.

"Has Jasper's Japanese poetry moved you?"

"Shit, are you two working together now?"

"It's go time, babe," Alice said firmly. "Right now. Are you in or out?"

I harrumphed and looked around the room, searching for… well, anything to get out of having to make this decision. I recognized what Alice was really asking me: Last week I had been practically dragged into socializing. This week… it was truly my call. My choice.

Alice quietly held the line and waited patiently for me to speak, humming tunelessly to herself.

Emmett and Edward both leaned back, apparently finished for the day. Edward stretched his arms above his head, and I dumbly watched his pectoral muscles jump and flex underneath his black shirt, and bulging, sinuous biceps move beneath fabric. He had his fucking sleeves rolled up again, revealing those damn forearms that I'd felt in my dreams. Saliva immediately pooled in my mouth, and I felt my face flush. I swallowed hard as a throb resounded between my legs, begging for some attention.

In another new development, I might mention that I had masturbated every night since Monday. Some nights more than once.

Clearly, unnecessary and counterproductive activity my ass.

I would begin to think about that moment in the lobby, his hair and eyes and chest and those fucking rolled up sleeves… and the pressure would build inside of me, pushing and swelling, until my fingers would shake with strained restraint and I was succumb, my digits finally finding what ached to be touched, sliding over slick folds, rubbing hardened flesh until I moaned and unraveled in the dark.

I would then lie back, washed in sweat and shame and reluctant exhilaration… temporarily satiated. Very temporarily.

Watching him now, I could feel the wetness pooling between my legs and red heat creeping up my neck.

Not now, you pervert.

"Beeeellaaaa…" Alice sang into my ear. I grunted, not done deciding. She giggled and went back to her crazy, spiraling melody.

I was watching surreptitiously as Emmett look up at the clock on the wall next to him. He said something to Edward, his big head bent low. He nodded, smiled… and then they both looked directly over at me.

They must have seen the surprise that was clearly written on my face: eyes big as tea saucers, fiery cheekbones and slack lips. Emmett's eyebrows lifted, and he pointed to the clock on the wall with one sausage finger; he made a motion like he was drinking something. He then pointed straight at me. My eyes widened further.

Is Emmett… calling me out? Edward sat back and watched me, his crooked smile unleashing its full force on my fragile resolve.

Unfortunately, Charlie had also noticed Emmett's dramatics. His eyes followed the direction of Emmett's meaty arm, across the floor, and found my rigid figure at the receiving end. My father glanced back and forth a few times between myself and Emmett, who was completely oblivious to the CEO's scrutiny; he was still grinning like an idiot and his eyebrows were bouncing up and down, wiggling suggestively.

I was surrounded. Alice was purring encouraging noises into my ear, Emmett was still theatrically gesturing at me, and Charlie was watching me intently, jaw set tight and posture tense as mine… But it was Edward I looked at, and he was certainly no help. He was sitting back, with arms crossed over his broad chest and legs planted wide. I silently begged him to make my decision for me… but he just smiled that fucking insane smile and occasionally assaulted his hair.

He was waiting - always waiting - daring me to choose.

Emmett tapped his watchless wrist and took another imaginary shot. Edward laughed, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Angela duck her head behind Charlie to hide a grin…

And it suddenly occurred to me: I wasn't being judged, or made fun of. Rather, the attention I was surrounded by was laced with friendliness and gentle encouragement. Well, all except one face. Charlie's eyes were hard points, and he sat terse and still as he watched Emmett's continued pantomime of pouring and drinking.

In Charlie's icy stare, I chose.

"Alice," I said softly, "I'll meet you there in fifteen minutes. Call Jasper."

I hung up the phone, cutting off her gleeful squealing. Emmett looked at me in anticipation.

I nodded my head once at him, ridiculously solemn. Emmett thumped the table with his ham hock of a hand and grinned wildly.

I figured that I was definitely not feeling like a healthy twenty five year old woman going to a bar on a Friday night should feel. She probably shouldn't really feel anything about it… it should just happen. But nope, not for me. I was like a toddler, standing on wobbly, bowed legs and daring to take tentative steps away from the coffee table.

Just try, Bella. Isabella fumed.

Edward and Emmett left minutes later, followed closely behind by Mike, who shot me one more dirty look before the elevator doors swallowed both him and his animosity. I held out hope that maybe he had finally gotten the message, and would finally be giving me the professional distance that was appropriate. We'll just have to see.

Charlie simply stood and disappeared into his office, not giving me another glance.

Calm down, Bella. You're only going to the location of your greatest humiliation in memory. And you're doing it by your own choice. No big deal.

You idiot.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Alice was chatting happily with Eric when I arrived. She spun around and opened her mouth, but I held up my hands before she could begin.

"Two conditions," I said firmly. "One, whatever is in that bag," I gestured to the tote bag sitting on the bar, "I have full veto power over." She nodded emphatically. "Two, no forced dancing. I want to dance, I dance. I don't want to dance, you leave me the hell alone. Understand?"

I was afraid she might nod her head clean off her neck if she were any more enthusiastic. She pushed the bag toward me, wiggling her eyebrows. I grabbed it and headed toward the bathroom, leaving her at the bar to continue verbally assaulting poor Eric.

Alice had done relatively well this time: skinny fit dark denim jeans and my long blue tunic top that contoured to my curves, but was still modest enough. Thank god it has sleeves, I thought gratefully… but when I spun it around, I narrowed my eyes: it was backless. That evil minx. However, of course she packed an appropriate bra. And matching lace panties. Sensible black pumps, minimal jewelry. All in all, do-able.

She is being a good girl. She obviously wanted me to agree to do this again.

I walked out of the bathroom, fussing with my hair and resolutely refusing to look around. The bar was alive, humming; voices floating from dark corners, eyes glittering in shadows, vague movements in my periphery, like looking down into a rippling pond. I kept my eyes focused straight ahead. If there were stares, I didn't want to meet them; if hushed whispers were made, I wouldn't acknowledge them. I was giving myself a chance this time, and I wasn't going to let them surround me, smother me, like I did last time.

Try. Just try.

Upon returning to Alice, I was surprised to see Jasper's lanky self already standing next to her at the bar. He sure got here fast… I slowed my steps as I approached them. The two of them were standing close, closer than necessary. Alice had a small hand on Jasper's forearm, and they were looking at each other intently, smiling lips moving gently, eyes locked in warm familiarity. I didn't want to interrupt whatever was happening, but I also didn't want to just stand in the middle of the floor like I was lost.

"You sure didn't waste any time, Whitlock." I gave him a quick hug and picked up the drink that Alice had already ordered for me. Oh good lord. Sweet, scorching fire on my tongue.

"Well, I didn't want you to change your mind and bolt before I had a chance to get here." He kissed my cheek and tugged on the sleeves of his black tuxedo jacket – with tails, I noted. Of course. Grey dickies, red hightop sneakers with lilies sketched into the side… Jasper was a beautiful, accidental piece of living art.

Alice immediately made us take a shot, and then another, then another. Breathing deeply through my nose, I worked through my gag reflex while Jasper slapped his glass back on the bar, grimacing and shaking his head sharply. I shot him a look behind Alice's head; he wisely placed a hand on both of our backs and carefully steered us toward the tables, away from the bar and any temptation for Alice to buy us another shot. "Tell me all about your days, my lovelies."

We three laughed and talked and genuinely enjoyed each other's company. There was no one more surprised than me to find that I was… relaxing. It was like we were back in grad school, studying and cooking and just being friends, before I… Well, before I took the job at Swan Consulting. Alice kept a close eye on me, and her smile threatened to split her face in two.

My body and mind became looser with every beat of my heart as it pushed hot, electric courage through my veins… I couldn't help but keep an eye on Edward, who had arrived about twenty minutes after me. I felt my eyes drift toward him with increasing frequency. Every time he laughed, sipped his beer, touched his hair, or blinked… I felt the motion in my fingertips, in my tongue, in my chest. It seemed to be a hard fact: if he were in the same room, a part of my attention was always with him.

Unfortunately, Jessica had managed to make her way over to his table and was now slowly overwhelming his presence: sitting too close, laughing too loudly, showing too much skin. I tried to ignore her stupid hand on his arm, and instead focused my eyes on his exposed neck, long and smooth and terribly, horribly appetizing.

I shook my head, feeling dizzy from alcohol and reluctant, surprising freedom.

The other night, Edward and I had shared something… intimate. It was to me, at least. Ridiculously, I felt like when he'd asked me to try, he had given me… something. "Support" sounded silly. "Permission" sounded equally absurd, but that was probably the most accurate term. I felt like he gave me permission. To relax, to breathe. To try. So here I was.

And I'm not going to let slutty-ass Jessica Stanley bring me down.

I smiled at Alice, a real, true smile. "Do you guys want another round? On me."

Alice and Jasper halted their steady stream of conversation. Alice nodded happily. "He will take a dirty martini, I will take a Cosmo, and you will take the weekend off. No work tomorrow, k? We'll all go do something fun."

"Yeah, Bells," Jasper said, "we can go to the gym and get yelled at by a tiny drill instructor for five hours. Sound good?" Alice punched him in the shoulder, but laughed. Jasper rubbed him arm in pain that really might not be teasing; Alice had heavy hands.

I took a sip of my scotch and considered her offer. That sounds… really good, actually, I thought. I haven't taken an entire weekend off in… fuck I don't even remember. And ya know what? I deserve it, dammit. I smiled. Jesus, what do people even do on Saturdays?

I stood. "I'll think about it," I relented.

After I ordered our drinks, I looked back at my friends. From across the room, I watched their body language, their sweet looks and easy touches… and I knew something was happening. I doubted if Ali recognized it yet, but I certainly did. I think Jasper did too, judging from the goofy, adoring grin on his sweet face, and the way his eyes never left her profile as she turned to take a sip. It was obvious that they had spoken to each other during the week, because more than once I found myself on the outside of a private joke. But I didn't mind. I hid my grin behind my fresh glass of scotch and shot Jasper furtive looks. Alice was right: his eyes were gun-metal grey, polished, glinting steel.

Whatever "How Bella Got Her Groove Back" bullshit I was going through, it was really Alice and Jasper's "whatever" that was making this night more than worth it. I knew I couldn't press Alice about it… yet. She'd freak out on me again, and lord knows I'd been doing enough freaking out for one household. I'd be gentle with her, as she always was with me. For now.

I watched Eric make our drinks, my eyes lazily watching his hands shake and mix and pour. It was hot in here tonight, and my flowing shirt was sticking lightly to my chest and stomach, my exposed back cool. My forearms were barely misted with cool sweat, and I rubbed my hands over my skin, slick with moisture. I shivered.

I didn't even realize the tremor rolling through my body wasn't from a breeze until he was already there.

"Two more, please, Eric."

Why did his voice have to be like that?

Sweet and sultry, deep and resonant. I wanted to hear that voice whisper my name. My first name.

My muscles immediately relaxed in his soothing, steady presence; I soaked him in greedily. I tried to ignore the jumping and cracking heat that was surrounding me, and I gripped the edge of the bar, knuckles white, mind struggling to focus. My senses were heightened and I took him in through my nose, smelling spice and beer and firm, untouchable man. He seeped sex from his pores; I struggled to form a coherent thought. I felt a fresh sheen of sweat break out over my entire body, and my nipples were of course hard, as they always fucking were around him. My very own version of a hard-on.

Thank god I don't have a cock, because I suspect that I'd be exploding out of my dungarees pretty much 100% of the time.

Edward just stood there at the bar, smiling and watching me from the corner of his eye.

I inhaled, stale air and anxiety filling my lungs. I knew that I needed to speak first. He had spoken first to me in almost every encounter that he and I had, and I wanted to… fuck, I wanted to try. Give him whatever gesture I could, though I knew it was ultimately futile and without an endgame.

Too quickly, I blurted out, "What are you having?"

I immediately wanted to smack my forehead with an open palm. Smooth.

Edward hadn't changed out of his work clothes, but he'd lost his tie and his shirt was unbuttoned and achingly casual. I thought about how I wanted to push my hands through the opening, to rip buttons and hear them clatter against the bar top, to trace the planes of his flat chest…

Focus on speaking complete sentences, Swan. Jesus.

Fitted black slacks were dear friends with his incredible, full ass. The dim shadows made him brooding, gorgeous. His hair was in its usual disarray, and I noted weakly that his brow was moist, like mine; wisps of bronze were matted to his forehead, curls damp and stuck to his skin.

Like he'd been running. Oh dear lord.

As if he could read my mind, he raked his hand through his hair, tucking the errant tendrils into the rest of the beautiful mess. The rough skin of my tongue longed to explore his temple, his ear, his wet neck, and I imagined it was sweet and soft, like the skin of a peach… or perhaps vaguely metallic and tart, like a copper penny.

"It's called Eclipse Ale." Eric set the two tall glasses in front of him. "It's from a microbrewery here in Seattle, and this is the only bar in the city that keeps it on tap." His crooked smile almost made me stop listening, but I held in there. "Have you ever had it?"

I shook my head. C'mon Bella. Words.

"No. I haven't."

He paused long enough to make me suck in a nervous breath. Casually, never breaking eye contact, he pushed one frosty mug toward me.

"Would you like to try mine?" His voice was black satin, thick curling smoke, quietly turning tables. It was my turn to accept the apple.

I hesitated… but only for a second.

In an act of daring of which I wasn't even aware I was capable, I kept my eyes locked firmly on his as I reached out and grabbed the mug. It was chilled and slick under my fingers, which I were silently willing to not tremble, please. I raised the drink slowly, grasping the glass tight, pushing it into my lower lip as I pulled the amber liquid in to my mouth. It was cold and light, and it tickled my nose. It was actually quite good… but I wasn't really experiencing the beer. I was tasting full pink lips, nibbling hard knuckles, rolling the flavor of flat abdominals along my tongue, raking a tightly muscled back with my teeth.

My throat worked as I swallowed the ale and gently set the glass back down. I saw Edward's eyes flicker down to my mouth and my tongue darted out, moist and lonely as I licked away the remaining beer and foam. I acknowledged weakly that I was wet and it was all for him, my thighs slick with arousal, my nipples puckered and aching. I had never in my life wanted anyone like I wanted him, and right this minute it had never been more intense. My whole body was hot, damp, flushed scarlet in the dim bar lights. I sucked my lowered lip between my teeth, biting down, chewing the pink flesh.

My mouth held his attention for a moment longer, watching my hard teeth worrying at the tender skin before he came back up to my own gaze. His eyes were darker now, dilated and alert, smoldering olive green and glittering black coal.

"That was…" Borderline orgasmic?

I cleared my throat and tried again. "That was really good, thank you. I might try that sometime instead of the scotch." I felt myself smile at him, and his eyes lit up as he grinned back. We stood there for a moment, and as I looked at him, I felt something swell in my chest, flutter against my ribs like nervous butterflies…

… and god help me, it might have been hope. And maybe even some courage, too.

"I'm really glad to see you here tonight." Edward said softly. My heart swelled, flew away on thrumming wings, and I felt mild, unknown, exciting panic bubble in the pit of my stomach. Holy shit, is he going to try and converse with me? Like a normal person? I didn't know what to do…

Trying listening and responding, dumbass. Oh, right.

"You work very hard," he continued. ""Dedicated. You are early every morning, late every night. It's good to see you take a break."

We're talking about work, I realized. A safe enough subject, especially since my head was already swimming from Alice's stupid shots. What I really wanted to do was ask him if he has recently had his STD checkup, because I had a backseat big enough for two. I smiled at my own silliness, allowing myself a small kudo for my guts.

"I suppose I could say the same for you." I felt a small smile tug at my lips, and I dared to look at him from under my eyelashes. "You only know how much I work because you're always there, too."

Am I… awkwardly… flirting?

Oh god, I was. I didn't know why… he was a bronze god who was possibly fucking the office slut, and I was the weirdo CEO's daughter who had a bizarre panic attack right in front of him not four days ago, but here I was, actually stringing sentences together… and almost coyly, to boot! I could practically hear the rusty gears turning in my head, groaning from disuse.

I absentmindedly ran my index finger and thumb up and down along the stem of Alice's cosmo glass. I stopped when his green eyes flash down to my fingers before quickly coming back up to my face and another throb resounded between my legs. I blushed.

Oh baby Jesus, I'm absentmindedly jacking off the martini glass.

He laughed, shaking his head. "Well, I guess you got me there." I felt myself flush deeper red. I caught the movement of his eyes to my cheeks, which in turn caused them to burn even brighter.

"But you…" he continued, "you work with a purpose. I've never seen someone so committed. Focused…" He took a sip of his beer, casually shrugging. "You're quite the employee, Ms. Swan."

Ms. Swan. It echoed between my ears.

I bit my lip, this time not flirtatiously. Painfully.

Fucking hell.

"And you as well, Mr. Masen." I had automatically switched into my work voice. "A model employee." Fake. Plastic.

And just like that, I hated myself again.

Because remember, Bella? You don't do first names. You don't do socializing. And you certainly don't do… whatever the fuck you were trying to do right now.

"Ms. Swan? Is something wrong?" His words were brutal silk, rubbing gravel into my sensitive skin. He noticed my posture, my change in tone. I cringed again.

"I'm Ms. Swan." My words were robotic and heartbreakingly, brutally honest. My mouth wouldn't allow me to speak anything but the truth to him… even if the truth was humiliating and hurtful.

I immediately reprimanded myself for giving a shit… about him, about how he felt, and certainly about how he'd asked me to try. Whatever the fuck that had meant.

His eyes widened in alarm. "Of course you are. I apologize, Ms. Swan," his tone naked, plaintive. Honest. "I didn't mean any disrespect."

I exhaled miserably. Oh my god... He was apologizing. He thought I was chastising him for trying to talk to me, for treating me like a human being instead of a Swan in Swan Consulting.

How the fuck could I get this so wrong, so quickly?

"No." My word was curt, staccato through my tumult. I stared at my scotch because I couldn't bear to look at those beautiful, bottomless eyes. I could feel the panic begin to bubble in the pit of my stomach and I willed calm to guide my breathing. I will not do this here. I peeked at his profile in the mirror behind the bar, watching him watch me begin to fall apart. Again.

I hated that I was here, I hated that I was letting this happen...

Mostly, I hated myself for being perpetually weak.

And I didn't any longer even have the fucking self control to lie to him.

"I'm here. We're here, and in some horribly clumsy way, I'm… I'm trying to…" I trailed off and laughed bitterly at my complete lack of adequate verbs, not expecting him to understand. I wore my shame on my skin, and I had to finish now. "I am still Ms. Swan." I swallowed, the stupid fucking honesty pouring out of me. "To you. And I think that's for the best."

Comprehension dawned on his handsome face. I saw his long fingers twitch, muscles flexing under skin as his arm reflexively jerked out… but he stopped, retreated, laid his hand flat on the polished wood.

"I'm sorry," Edward said again. His voice was different now; softer, monotone. Somber. It made me feel even worse. "I didn't mean to upset you..."

I interrupted him with a wave of my hand. "No, please, it's not your fault. It's mine entirely." I laughed again. It tasted sour. "It's just so silly for me to be here, like this."

"No, it isn't." His voice was unexpectedly forceful, and I flinched. "I'm glad you're here," he continued, his voice whispering across my inflamed skin. "Right here." His forehead was creased again, and the frown he wore looked unnatural on him.

"Unfortunately, it is." I took a deep breath, and I smiled down at the bar top. "It's foolish. I'm being foolish." I paused and took a breath. Collected myself before continuing, "I understand now what you meant the other evening, Mr. Masen. A level of comfort is important between co-workers, especially because we're working together on such an important client. I apologize for being so… awkward. I told you I would try, and I should… I should always strive to be a more effective employee. But this," I waved my hand stiffly, gesturing around the room, "this is not conducive to that end, and I should have known that."

Edward leaned closer. His long torso pressed toward me and electricity crackled and ran fast down my spine, but I shied away on impulse; my brain was unable to process the feelings of failure that were churning between my ears and the blind rush of desire pooling between my legs, urging me to me reach out and touch him, to beg him to save me, bring me back, keep me here...

His voice was low and rough, raw sugar and shifting sand.

"That wasn't what I meant." His voice came from deep in his chest, rumbling thunder in this cold storm. I blinked, swallowing sharp anxiety.

His words were almost a whisper. "Don't you know that yet?"

My eyes snapped up to his. He pierced through me, and I was drowning in green pools; his mouth set straight, features unpredictably urgent. It was completely irrational, but once again I felt like he could see inside of me, really see me, behind the walls and masks and plastic and lies… and right now, dear god, I couldn't let him see what I was really feel… thinking. My legs threatened to give way, to leave me crumpled on the floor – I deserved as much.

The bar spun; I needed to find solid ground.

You can't do this. Isabella crooned. Get away. RUN.

"I don't know what you mean." I tried to make my voice casual, but the waver was unmistakable. I laughed, hoping to ease the tension and mask my lie, but the sound was vacant, fragile. "This was a mistake." The truth was ugly. "No matter what, it seems that you will always be Mr. Masen, and I will always be Ms. Swan."

Edward was quiet. His face was unreadable, but his eyes… his eyes took my breath away. They were churning. Alive. They touched every inch of my exposed skin, seared me like acid.

This time, he took a full step closer to me… and oh god he was right there, and he was so tall and beautiful, so good, and his eyes… shit, his fucking smell… and his mouth and arms and hair and neck… Why is he doing this? And why am I torturing myself? I knew I needed to go.

I countered by taking a step backward, away from him, away from danger and energy, uncertainty... I turned around, intending to back away…

That's when Edward reached out and touched me, his long fingers encircling my upper arm.

Fuck fuck fuck.

The heat from his grasp burned straight through the thin fabric of my shirt.

I gasped audibly, my brain stuttering, my entire self caught underneath the palm of his hand. His eyes penetrated me, and bubbling blue panic and white hot lust stained my face, flashed sparks in my eyes. Images crashed and invaded, filling my vision: I saw my dreams and more, even more than I had dared to dream. I saw his lips and eyelashes and hands everywhere, saw light and exposed skin and sweat, the long length of his naked back, muscled and taut, the lines gently sloping down to meet with the poetic curve of firm, full ass. I saw my fingers digging into the solid flesh, pulling forward and in as I lay open beneath him. I saw his face… his gorgeous, honest face, as he finally pushed into me, filling me with stars and emerald fire, completing and …

"Please don't run away again."

His voice was undeservedly soft, a silken plea, fluttering moth wings ticking my skin, sliding slick along the thin skin of my neck.

Go. Go. You have to go now.

My words were razor blades, cutting my own flesh. "Thank for you for the taste of something different, Mr. Masen, but I think I'll stick to what I know."

I lightly tugged away from his grasp, and he didn't fight me. The loss of his heat and touch physically hurt me, pain and useless regret shooting down my sternum. I quickly grabbed my nearly-forgotten drinks in an attempt to hide the shaking, pink liquid splashing in my haste. "Goodnight."

Alice jumped when I set the drinks on the table in front of her.

"Oh, Bells! You scared me." She laughed and smacked Jasper on the shoulder. "Jazz was just saying…"

"Ali, I'm going to head home, okay?" I said in a rush. I didn't even bother with an excuse. My skin was ice cold where Edward's hand had been, and I rubbed the spot reflexively. Jasper began to stand up, but I gently pushed him back down. "No, Jasper. Stay and enjoy, I'm going to cab it home."

"But we just barely got here…" I shook my head, and Jasper sighed as he sat back down. "Okay… but sometime you have to make it past 10pm with us, okay?"

I laughed woodenly, and it must not have reached my eyes because Alice's eyebrow immediately shot up. Shit. Little imp knew something was up, and I knew I needed to leave before she had the chance to "suggest" that she leave with me.

I had to force my feet to maintain a walking pace as I hurried for the exit. I didn't care who was there anymore, or who was watching me, because there was only one set of eyes that could send me over the edge, cause my chest to ache right now and acrid panic to flood my tongue. But I had to get away from him, before he too saw what everyone else in my life had always come to see… that I was useless, weak, not worth attention when it was just me, standing naked and vulnerable.

As I jumped in the waiting cab, I heard the bar door swing open but I closed my eyes; the world was swirling and spinning and fucking refusing to stay straight, and I didn't want to watch it anymore.

"Just go, please!" I commanded the confused driver.

We peeled away from the curb before I had completely shut the door.

I imagined that I heard my name being called from the darkness.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I might as well keep running.

Less than an hour after I had stood speaking with Edward and had realized once again how fucking stupid I was for thinking I could be a normal person… I was running, alone, in the dark, in the dead of night.

I knew it wasn't smart: being by myself so late, in the middle of the night, running with my head still revolving in clumsy circles. But I was fucking angry at myself, and obviously wanted to continue with the stupid and reckless behavior.

Sweet, I'm so glad I have this new found self-awareness. Aren't I doing better?

Besides, I had a stun gun in my back pocket and self-defense techniques from Alice, so I felt comfortable enough holding my own in well-lit neighborhoods.

Like the one I was in now. One with long dark lawns and pretty suburban poplar trees. Familiar and troublesome, flanked by bad decisions and lonesome impulsiveness.

I assured myself that I wasn't looking for him this time because I knew he was at the bar: I imagined him smiling and drinking, probably assaulting his poor hair, maybe even dancing with some girl. Maybe Jessica. She had been there, right? I knew I couldn't have him, but a feeble part of me didn't want that dumb blonde bitch to have him, either.

But either way, it shouldn't matter to me.

My muscles screamed profanities.

So this is great, right Bella? This is what you want, right? What you deserve? Isn't that what you've been telling yourself every goddamn day for the last… forever?

I grit my teeth. Something was beginning to bubble up inside of me, pushing through cracks, seeping through fissures, some orange and viscous, molten like lava. I stopped moving, and stood, chest heaving, fist clenched at my side. A light mist of rain steadily darkening my shirt, making my hair stick to my ears.

No. No, it's not what I want.

I was pissed. Seething. The night was pitch black, but my vision was blood red.

I was furious at myself… For behaving this way. For being so impossibly, frustratinglyemo that I was even annoying my fucking self. And for running, always running, both right now through the dark and from the only person that made me feel truly alive.

I tipped my head up, seeking stars to temper my sight, to turn my fury into convoluted logic: there were none.

I am SO FUCKING TIRED of behaving this way.

I collapsed onto the curb, as if even my legs couldn't stand for this anymore, either. My fists were tight balls in my lap, shaking, my nails cutting into my soft palms.

I didn't want to do this anymore. I was so fucking done with sprinting through the night from something that I couldn't possibly outrun. I was exhausted by this constant war in which I was engaged, the incessant berating, the doubts. I was so tired of telling myself that, for some ancient reason, I can't have what I want, even though my mind and body and heart screamed for it.

Forgiveness. Freedom. Happiness. Fluidity. Him.

I had been so determined to make it tonight. To relax. To live. Take it as it comes. And I had let one thing, one stupid name, ruin it all.

Was it worth it, Bella? Did running away actually fix anything? Make anything go away?

No, I answered. No, because he is still there, and I'm not. I didn't give him a chance because I don't give myself a chance. And I can't keep going around and around in this shame spiral, ending up in the dark. Alone. Forever.

My body was almost vibrating with energy, sharp panting breath forming twin clouds from my nostrils. My head was clear, bright, sharp. No hint of numbness, and I didn't want it now, anyhow. No more hiding. No more denying and convincing. No more running from him.

I should have stayed… but I didn't. And I could kick my own ass for doing it, too.

Fuck, I didn't know what this revelation meant, me sitting here, under a black umbrella of starless space, on this rainy Seattle night. I didn't know that it changed a goddamn thing about my life: my relationship with my father or my disdain for my mother, my inability to trust another person, or my hopeless, doomed crush for the perfect, wonderful, untouchable Edward Masen. But I felt different

Because in that moment, I didn't want to punish myself anymore. I didn't want to lie to myself, to try and make myself believe I was justified with flawed logic. And I wasn't running.

I wanted to fight.

Something else was coursing through my veins, too. Thick anger still pumped, and I could feel it burning my ribs, coloring my cheeks and my visions. I was free from the dangfer of anther panic attack; there was no creeping hysteria skirting the edge of my thoughts, no lead or acid filling my stomach. It wasn't hatred, or fear, or confusion. But there was something. Something more. I was more.

It was determination.

Determination to conquer this irrational, destructive urge to run that was preventing me from living. To work on seeing myself as a whole person, not just a collage of assembled bits and broken pieces, glued together to form a version of me that I couldn't stand to wear anymore. To be a better friend to my unconditionally loyal friends, and to be a woman that someday, someone like Edward Masen might have in his life. He was my inspiration – the idea of him, anyway – as was Alice, and Jasper… and, since I was being honest, in a perverse, pathetic way, my father, too. I wanted to be better for them, better for him, better for me…

This realization came not with a bang, but with a whimper; a whisper of water on my hot skin, a quiet black night. Reverent gratitude and silent promises.

I sighed. This won't change much, Bella. I know that I wasn't magically fixed, and that tomorrow would bring uncertainty and shame and my own harsh critcism. I knew that this courage that was falling down up my shoulders, like the rain, will have waned by tomorrow, when I found myself under damp sheets, quaking from a dream. I knew that when I walked into the office I would be gripped by the self-doubt that I had worn for years, and that I might stumble backward, looking for a get-away – probably more than once.

I screwed my eyes up tight, hands aching, knuckles white from pressure. My back bowed under the weight of my wish.

Please just remember this, Bella. Please. You are better than… this. I might not know exactly what I am, yet… but I'm better than this existence.

My thoughts straightened out, smoothed, became a gentle humming in my ears. I saw emerald calm, and felt him, felt comforted by his existence in the world, even in his absence. I silently thanked Edward Masen for just being, for having a presence in my life; he was perfect, and I was not. But I could work on it. The thought was painful, but I knew it was true: even if I never even spoke with him again, I vowed that I would work on being the kind of person that might be worthy of him. Of his affection, and touch. Of his love. That his limited, kind, generous attentions on me would not be in vain, would not be wasted on unaffected plastic.

I'd said the words before, out loud and in my head, but hadn't felt them… I wanted to try. Again.

But that, of course, was up to me.

I opened my eyes, turned, and walked home.

C'mon, Bella. Hang in there guys, she's working on it... trust me, I want them together, too. 3

I love you all so damn much. Sincerely. I seriously have the best, most thoughtful reviewers EVER. And to you silent readers… I love you all, too, and appreciate you following this silly story. *muah*

As always: Twilighted thread: http : //(dot) twilighted (dot) net/forum/viewtopic(dot)php?f=44&t=5250

Twitter: ahlthyaddiction. I tweet about Disciplined Breakdown and other inane things.

- ahealthyaddiction