A/N: We're skipping a lot of time, just because I need to keep the story moving. Sorry for it taking so long. D;

Warning!: Before continuing, please know—two horny people ahead. There may be secks—yes, secks.

Playlist: "Boom Boom Pow"—Black Eyed Peas, "Comin' Back"—Verbatym (Go look them up on MySpace, lieknao!), "Emergency"—Paramore, "Missing You"—Black Eyed Peas

Chapter Five: Missing You

Seven Months Later—September

Since my debut in Witness, I had been in multiple movies throughout the year, keeping myself busy over the summer. And despite everything buzzing by me in fast forward, I found time to think about him. I would stay up late into the night, memorizing lines, and then I would fall back on my bed and simply think about him while staring up at my ceiling.

There was no way I was getting away from him. Because I was in love with him.

So when Alice vibrated up to me, her energy palpable, and announced that her boyfriend Jasper Hale had made her his fiancé, it wasn't a surprise when I had to force my excitement for her. I was happy for her, of course. But it still hurt.

I wasn't really sure how I ended up at her bachelorette party at a club or a bar or whatever it was, when I was clearly underage. But I was pretty sure it was a gay bar. Which, I thought, defeated the whole point of a bachelorette party.

By midnight, Rosalie had converted at least three men back to at least bi-sexual without even doing much more than a dance and Alice was quickly convincing me that she would be better with the girl that was hanging on her small shoulders, trying to steal kisses.

I had done neither throughout the night. I made friends with the bartender that had blue hair and blonde roots, and it was only one when I had hit the bottom of the tequila bottle. "So is that natural?" I asked, holding the glass bottle by the neck.

"Alright, you're cut off," he chuckled, plucking the bottle from my swollen fingers.

I narrowed my eyes. "You're not gay," I accused.

"Sure I am,"

I shook my head. "No, you're not."

"And how would you know?" He crossed his arms over his chest, the rag still hanging from his left hand.

I ticked them off on my fingers. "One, if you were gay, I'd most likely be attracted to you. Two, you cringe when a man gives you a wink. Three . . . I don't know a gay guy who would let their roots show."

He cracked a smile that was glaringly similar to the one that Edward gave me. I rested my cheek on the cool wood, and started to cry.

"None of that here," he scolded, and another shot was set in front of me. I lifted it up and slid it down, the burn not even bothering me anymore. "Now, who was he?"

"How are you so sure it wasn't a she?"

"Alright, fine. Tell me about them,"

I sighed, tipping over the shot glass so it rolled into his waiting hand on the other side of the bar. "Well, we met on the set of one of my mom's films like, I don't know how long ago. And he—"

"I knew it," he teased.

I rested my forehead in my hand, smiling up at him. "Fine, you caught me. . . ?"

"Todd,"

"You caught me, Todd." I paused, eying an over-sized bottle of alcohol behind him. He sighed, turning around and snatching the wrong one from the shelf and mixing me a martini. I sipped it, remembering why I loved them on days like this. They were pure alcohol. "Edward Cullen."

He whistled, wiping up a spill I hadn't known I had made. "Hot one," A nod.

"Maybe you are gay," I muttered, sticking my finger into the liquid and pulling out one of the two green olives staring at me with a red pupil. I chewed, not tasting until I noticed Todd biting the inside of his cheek. I lapped at the alcohol on my thumb, my eyebrows screwing together. "Maybe not,"

There was a time when I was four that Renee used to take me to the park to feed the ducks. I had tossed a piece of bread towards a flock of geese and they started chasing me. If you've never been chased by geese, don't try it. It's fucking scary. I ran away, right into the smelly lake.

I crawled my away out, looking like a soaked cat, and they started chasing me again.

I smelled bad, and was now afraid of geese. But I would still rather be them.

They mate for life.

Alice slung her arm over my shoulders then, a droning laugh on her lips. "Bella," she whined, resting her head against my temple, "will you dance with me?"

I shook my head, my elbow missing the edge of the bar as I tried to lean against it. "You know how I dance, Alice. And this isn't going to help me." I gulped down the rest of my martini, letting Todd whisk is away before going down the bar to a very busy female couple.

"Please? It's my bachelorette party and Rosy poofed." She splayed out her fingers in front of her face. "Come on, please?"

I huffed, running a hand through my hair. And then I tried to stand, using the bar to hold my weight. "There is no way I'm dancing with you." I muttered, but I realized that Alice had been distracted by yet another woman.

Snatching my purse from the bar, I stumbled around my barstool before Todd caught me. "Do you want me to call you a cab?"

I shook my head. "My sisters will take me home. I just need to get some air." I slurred, and he reluctantly released me and I made my way to the door of the bar.

Outside, the alcohol swirled around in my head, causing me to spin for a moment. I spotted a bench to the right and plopped down in it, resting my head in my hand. I felt horrible—waterlogged and queasy. I was pretty sure I was about to puke. My ankles hurt from the goddamn shoes Alice had strapped on my feet. I struggled with the clasp, almost falling off the bench four times before I could finally get both of them off and onto the seat next to me.

And then I was crying again, because I was so alone. Alice was getting married, Rosalie was married, and I wasn't even getting hit on in a fucking gay bar. The next thing I knew, I was heaving over the armrest into a pot of poor flowers.

And someone was holding my hair. Tears fell from my eyes as I threw up everything I had ingested in the last month. I thought it was never going to end. I felt bad for whoever was taking care of me. With my luck, it was a paparazzo and he was also snapping pictures.

When it did finally end, I sat back on the bench and apologized, trying to hide my face. The person seemed to wave it off though I didn't look at them, and offered me a bottle of water to rinse my mouth out with.

Definitely not a paparazzo.

I looked up, and started crying again.

It was Edward.

He sat down next to me and pulled my head into his chest, kissing my hair. I clutched at his shirt, begging he wouldn't leave. "I'm so sorry," I blubbered over and over again.

"I'll take you home," he told me, wrapping his arm around my waist so his hand was just at my ribcage. I let him lead me just down the dark street to where his silver Volvo was waiting. He helped me in, taking my shoes from me and shut my door.

I felt bold when I was drunk. It was something Alice and Rosalie found out when I was twelve. Charlie had forgotten to lock the alcohol cabinet and our parents had gone out for the night. They didn't let me have much, but it was enough to make me jump from the roof of our home into the swimming pool. They told me I was two inches away from clipping my head on the edge.

Tonight was no different.

Edward went to start the Volvo, and I pulled on his arm. He turned to me, and the action sent a wave of his glorious aroma towards me. He was closer than I thought, and I threaded my fingers in his auburn hair, locking my lips with his. I gasped as he responded, holding my neck so I couldn't move away.

My heavy limbs tried to find their way to get me into the backseat, and Edward had to help me. Our lips were apart for one quick second as I landed in the back, and I quickly tugged him forward, and he found his way under me. He cradled me against his chest, his mouth attacking my neck and shoulders. The shirt I had worn was loose and slipped from my shoulders to my waist.

Sitting up, his tongue made a hot trail from the valley between my breasts to the hollow beneath my ear. His hands were everywhere—sliding up my sides and supporting my back, playing with the straps of my bra and teasing the button of my jeans. I was on fire, and he was one fire, and I was about to fall apart at the seams if he didn't do anything about it.

I tore at the collar of his shirt, the first button popping off and hitting me square in the chest. I leaned too far forward and had to catch myself on the foggy window. He chose that moment to release my from my bra, and it caused me to collapse over him, our bare chests pressed together and his hot breath fanning over my neck.

My hands traveled between us to the button of his jeans. I bit my lip. It was still daring, I realized, and my hand slipped under the fabric to his boxers underneath. He hissed in my ear, kissing the overheated skin there. A spasm flew down my spine, materializing in my lower stomach.

I took a breath, lifting my head so my lips were pressing against the corner of his jaw. "Take me, Edward," I whispered.

He groaned, his head lolling back, and I sucked on his skin, making him mine. I rocked back on him, my core rubbing against his hard through our jeans. The sound that came from his chest thrilled and scared me. I had never heard that from him in all the times we had been together. It was feral and possessive. His hands fell to my hips and I helped him rid me of my jeans, leaving me in only my black bikini underwear.

His eyes were dark and that sound came again, through his clenched teeth. I pulled him free of his own pants. I was waiting for him to roll us over, but he never did. Instead, he fisted his left hand in my hair, pushing my throat to his lips, while I kissed his wrist. His other hand kept me over his clothed manhood, teasing me. I whimpered, the coil in my stomach becoming painful.

"Please," I cried, reaching down and pulling down on his boxers. He nibbled on my earlobe.

"What, Isabella?"

My nails dug into his side as he used my full name, and he froze for a moment before a shudder ran through his skin.

"Take me, Edward. Take me."

We were completely bare before I thought possible, and I held onto his shoulders, his hands guiding my hips over him. I looked up at him for the first time tonight, and was about to say it. We had never said those damn three words, and they were on the tip of my tongue. But he started to slide me over him, and I groaned until he flipped me completely, my back arched away from him, my lips hovering over his.

His eyes had rolled away, so I closed mine and let him lead my body over him, the feeling unfamiliar and mind blowing. I kissed him, our skin moving together like it had what seemed like so long ago. He sped my tempo, and I straightened up to get a different angle. My toes curled beneath me, and Edward increased the rhythm even more. I moved my hands from his shoulders to his neck and pulled him up so our chests met again.

He held himself up with one hand while still supporting me and took over the movements. I forced my hips harder against him, desperate for even more friction. His mouth found my collarbone, and marked me like I had done to him.

The feeling sent me over the edge, my walls tightening over him. He trembled under me, pushing towards his end. I bit into his neck, and he growled in my ear, filling me completely before spilling within me.

The arm that had been supporting him shook before he fell back onto the seat, his breathing more ragged than mine. Still intimately connected, I let myself to lay over him, my lips never leaving his throat.

I could hear his heart speed beneath my chest, and I felt complete for the first time in a year.

A/N: This is the reason I changed the rating. I was very scared about writing this. You have no idea. I'm so scared to write lemons and other sexual stuff that I usually just fade-to-black it. But I do want to eventually be comfortable writing it. So, might as well, right?

Was it good? I've only written four before, and they all sucked. Let me know, please?

So, you should review. Because I think this is completely hot—at least, by my writing standards—and your pretty fucking lucky I even wrote it. Be happy.

Tell me: What do you think the morning after will be like?

-R.I.