Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer.

Thanks to Bri for ruling the beta-world!

Chapter 7 – A Kiss Before I Go

I ain't been goin' nowhere for quite awhile

can't tell the truth in a house of lies

can't explain what I don't know

one shot, one beer and a kiss before I go

(Ryan Adams – A Kiss Before I Go)


Edward Cullen

I told Bella, we were 'connecting', but seriously, what did that even mean? I knew what it meant to me, of course. It meant that I missed her touch, her warmth and her tickling hair on my neck as soon as she backed away from our embrace.

With this one word, all of it was out in the open. Or at least I thought it was. I was convinced she would comment on it, tell me to go to hell in the worst scenario, but against all expectations she didn't respond at all. I felt like a rabbit in an open field, waiting for the hunter to shoot - only she never pulled the trigger. I finally decided to leave her apartment, since waiting for the bull to fly my way was obviously the stupidest thing to do, but unfortunately - like some paralysed rabbit - I couldn't. Not when she offered another cup of tea, not when she offered another few minutes I would be allowed to spend with her. I sounded like some sick fool, but it was a fact. I couldn't go when she asked me to stay. Simple as that. And if that meant that she would give me my final blow eventually, then I had to accept it.

Figuratively spoken of course.

With a murder looming over our heads that couldn't be taken for granted.

It was a weird coincidence, that right in that moment Live Forever was playing on the radio in her kitchen, because I remembered her words concerning the song clearly.

"He's just singing about those deep connections, which last a lifetime and maybe even longer. You know, friendship and love."

Connection. There it was again. Friendship and love. Right.

I couldn't help but smile at her, willing her to see it, to feel our connection herself. But she stayed ignorant to everything I felt, everything that stirred inside of me, when she stretched her delicate body to get some new mugs out of the cupboard above the stove. The mugs ended up on the table somehow, but I could only focus on her smirk and that funny twinkling in her eyes, when she realised what song was playing.

Some part of me was even glad that she didn't feel the things that got more difficult to ignore every minute. I wasn't right for her. I never could be right for her. Not as long as I was a fugitive anyway. So until everything was solved, I would just take everything she was willing to give me: A little more time with her, some fabulous Earl Grey and even the notes on the case she had in her small notebook.

And those notes? They were a mess. I didn't know if Bella was the creative type or something, but it took me a few minutes to understand anything at all. In the end it all came down to James being not trustworthy. He was lying to Bella, to the police and to God knew who else. Besides, it was his department in my company where something went seriously wrong. My legs twitched with the thought of going right after him and confront him with all I knew, beginning with everything concerning Bella. But of course he would deny whatever I would accuse him of, winding his slimey face out of my vague speculations.

I formed a plan right then and there.

The police had too much evidence against me already and my sudden disappearance obviously didn't help the matter. If they didn't have me so cornered and under their constant radar, I would have other options and tell them to go to hell, but obviously I was very limited in my alternatives. I shook my head at the thought. Assuming I wanted to kill Bella because I had saved that damn picture on my computer? Ridiculous. I swear this had something to do with Detective Black and his compulsive obsession. He didn't trust me and I could assure him, this feeling was mutual.

Everything came down to one thing: I was going to fly to Iceland. That would not only give me back some freedom, but it was also the only trace I had left.

I had to call the bank clerk from the note first, though. Mr. Henderson. Maybe I would try to call the bank in Iceland as well. But I suppose Bella was right, they wouldn't give out any information. As soon as I had that confirmed I was going to leave the country and try my luck in Iceland to find whatever Fagur Alit was. It was the only and therefore last straw to grasp on.

With this decision made I felt a little lighter and had to suppress a laugh, when in all of Bella's mess I found two pictures of none other than myself.

It was funny because just yesterday I was mad at her. Mad because of her article and because of her job in general and now I was able to laugh about it. Even about those stupid, not really advantageous pictures of myself in between her stack of papers. It was her job to write about this murder and I had to live with that. I could only hope she didn't just keep me around for a good story. But I guess that wasn't Bella's style. For all the trust she had in me, I was more than glad to give her some in return.

And those pictures were too good of a chance to put my picture-saving into perspective. I really couldn't help mocking her a bit about it. Her lips formed the cutest pout, while she rolled her eyes at me deprecatingly. I was longing to touch her lips, run my thumb across them or just kiss the pout away and make her smile, because that was by far my favourite facial expression.

But Bella redirected my thoughts back to her notes with a comment about me admiring my own good looks, which was a little ironic, because it was her beauty I was worshipping constantly. And I had the feeling she didn't even know how beautiful she was, which made her even more attractive. The way she closed her eyes when she inhaled that disgusting scent of her coffee, the way she clasped both of her hands firmly around the mug and then nipped at it like a little bird, the gracefulness with which she operated stuff in her kitchen, the fact that her apartment was neat and tidy while those notes were such a mess and that I was even paying attention to stuff like that. She had me wrapped around her little finger already and that verged on pitifulness.

We talked a bit about her notes then. I guess I made her realise what a house of lies had been built in front of us.

And that's when she mentioned that she had met James only twice before. A little information that couldn't be paid in gold. It could only mean two things: Either she was really bad in counting, or else she didn't go out with him to dinner the other day. My hopes were rising again, my heart pounding against my ribcage. I had to ask her sooner or later about this, about her interests in general. And in James. And in me.

I emptied my delicious tea before it got cold and therewith eliminated the last excuse to stay in her kitchen. It was time to go. Leave the comfort of Bella's apartment behind and fly to Iceland.

My plan to leave was set in motion when I finally got up and grabbed my jacket from where I had placed it on the sofa earlier. As I put it on, I felt the iPod in my inner pocket crashing against my ribs and suddenly remembered the tracklist clearly. I didn't know if Bella was totally convinced of my innocence and although I really assured her about my non-existent feelings towards Claire, I wasn't sure if she believed me there either. But one thing I could convince her of for sure: Wonderwall was not boring!

She was already in her hallway, eager to get rid of me as it seemed. I tried the iPod and the batteries were still almost full. Perfect. Joining Bella in the corridor, I placed the player in her hand, before she could argue like I know she would like to.

"One last thing. Track five. You'll beg me to forget that you ever said it's plain and boring."

I meant it. It was Wonderwall, but not the Oasis-Version. It was some cover of Ryan Adams, whose Country-tendencies normally really weren't my thing. But this was the best cover of one of the best songs and I wanted her to listen to this and I wanted her to love it.

Quickly I turned away to the door. I needed to leave. No more glances towards her, no more excuses. But as I had worried, she couldn't just let me have my way with this.

"Hey, what--," she argued and reached for my arm. "Wait! Keep it."

My arm vibrated with her touch, a shaking that reverberated through my whole body. I watched as her delicate hands clasped around my forearm, stopping me from opening her door. That and the simple request to 'wait' were enough to let me falter.

How could I leave when she wanted me to wait? She more or less pulled my arm away from the door handle, although it slipped willingly off it and turned me rather forcefully around.

I knew that if I would turn in her direction one more time, she wouldn't be allowed to hold me responsible for anything. I did it anyway, the temptation to get one last glance of her flushed cheeks too tantalising to ignore.

She held the player in front of herself for me to take, though I didn't want it. I had given it to her and wanted her to keep it. My body was still, eyes glued to hers.

Instead of giving in due to my non-cooperation and taking the player already, she shoved the iPod against my chest. Out of reflex I reached for her hand, enclosing it with mine to ensure she would keep the player inside hers.

She was so close, too close. Her hand in mine, both of them on my chest, right next to my pounding heart. Her warmth spread like electricity through me, her scent surrounding me. She looked up at me through her eyelashes with those innocent, beautiful brown eyes. I couldn't help but let my gaze drop across her flushed cheeks to her lips. No, no, no, not the lips. I forced myself to look up again, but it was too tempting. She leaned closer to me or maybe she didn't and it was me, who was leaning forward. It didn't matter. Her face was so close and as I released her hand, to bring mine up to her face, she didn't move.

"There are many things I would like to say to you, but I don't know how."

Instead of all the compliments, all the declarations of adoration that flowed through my mind, I quoted the song I wanted her to listen to with a voice so low, I wasn't sure if she had understood me at all. Everything else was left unsaid for now.

"I don't care," she whispered back.

I would have wondered what she didn't care about, but her big brown eyes were clearly agreeing to whatever was happening between the both of us.

I let my fingers touch her cheekbones and my thumb circled her soft skin. Her eyes closed in slow motion and I could swear she leaned into my touch. She was responding, giving me as much permission as I needed. The temptation was too much.

I closed the remaining distance between us and lowered my lips down to hers.

It felt divine.

She felt divine.

I kept it a chaste kiss, just barely touching her soft lips with mine for a much too short amount of time. She didn't push me away. Apparently she wasn't reacting at all. She kept her eyes closed and her arms hung down her sides. Relaxed, not defeated. My eyes closed on their own accord and my lips met hers again, while both of my hands cupped her face. I needed her to react, to feel this, to feel us. It didn't matter that I wasn't right for her. For this one moment I was. I needed to be.

I moved my lips carefully against hers and then finally she responded. I felt her hands on either side of my waist, circling around me, pressing me closer to her. Her warm breath fanned over my face.

And then she kissed me back. She kissed me back in a style Clark Gable would've admired. Her lips moved with mine. Slowly. Testing. Tasting. While her mere touch sent a spark through me, her kiss set my whole body on fire. And I needed her so much closer. More, always more.

Apparently she did too. She tightened her arms around my torso and stumbled back a few steps until her back was against the wall, pulling me with her. My palms went from her cheeks to the wall beside her face, so I could brace myself before I fell completely into her.

I heard a quiet 'thump' behind me, but couldn't bother with it. Her arms left my body, but before I could miss them, they found their way into my hair, massaging my scalp, pushing and pulling on hair. Lips never leaving lips. The kiss wasn't slow anymore. It was passionate. Too passionate. Her breaths came fast and heavy. Maybe they were mine. I couldn't distinguish any longer. We were breathing as one, hearts beating the same beat.

Just a few more moments to keep her body close to mine. Her hands felt so angelic in my hair, her lips almost too perfect on mine.

Then I softly pulled away from my Bella.

I needed to stop this. I couldn't lose control. Ah, who was I kidding? I had lost control over ten minutes ago. This wasn't planned, this wasn't right. It was too fast, she couldn't possibly be okay with this. Tomorrow she would hate me for this, I despised myself already. I looked at her while her eyes fluttered open. Her face was still flushed, more so than before, and her hands still in my hair. She was stunningly beautiful and I immediately wanted to kiss her again. But I couldn't.

Screw this. I could.

My lips went to hers once more. Just another chaste kiss, like the first one. Lips barely touching lips. Her hands fisted in my hair, but I couldn't allow this to go any further. Where would this leave me? Us? I backed away again, my forehead resting on hers for just a second. I gave her a meaningful look, while my hand moved on it's own accord to put a lose strand of hair behind her ear. The soft and silk hair felt like butterflies in my hand.

I begged her with my eyes to be careful and to stay away from James and to not do anything stupid or reckless. But the only words that came out of my mouth were: "Be safe!"

And then I reached for the door handle again and left her apartment.

She was my little Wonderwall after all.

Chapter End Notes:

Kissing someone in a style Clark Gable would've admired is a homage to The Postal Service.

Not liking Ryan Adams' Country-tendencies is not our own opinion, just Edwards.

Thanks a lot for reading.