Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns all recognizable characters, plots, etc. Only original content, characters, etc. belongs to author. No copyright infringement intended. Any errors contained herein, are expressly the fault of the authors idiocy, and not her betas.

Word Count: 10,627 (Around 1k longer than intended, sorry.)

A/N: This has been done for a week and a half, but Ms. V's father had a heart attack and surgery, so it took her a bit longer to get it beta'd.

My undying devotion/eternal gratitude to V for betaing, and Char for the pre-read. Y'all owe Char for the de-pussification of Badward; I was trying to neuter the poor guy, apparently. And thanks to Em for her small assists (you're missed as co-beta). This would be a mess without the three of you.

Thanks to all of you for reading, and reviewing. You're all lovely. Enjoy.

*Warning: I know some of you are unhappy with where the story is right now, and will be even more dissatisfied after this chapter, but as the proverb says, this too shall pass.

Chapter 5 – Old Habits Die Hard

...I'm half delirious, it's too mysterious
You walk through my walls like a ghost
And I take every day at a time
I'm as proud as a Lion in his Lair
Now there's no denying it, a note to crying it
Your all tangled up in my head…

…We haven't spoken in months
You see I've been counting the days
I dream of such humanities, such insanities
I'm lost like a kid and I'm late…
…I act like an addict, i just got to have it
I can never just leave it alone…

…And I can't give you up
Can't leave you alone
And it's so hard, so hard
And hard enough to feel the pain

Old habits die hard…
…Hard enough to feel the pain
- Mick Jagger (with Dave Stewart)

~\*/~

I managed – just fucking barely – to remain intact, to keep my game face on while in front of my sister.

My voice was only slightly strained when I told her, "That's great, Alice. I'm happy for her, but why are you telling me this? It's none of my business what she's doing. I promised I would stay out of her life."

"I just want you to be happy, Edward. You can't keep doing this."

"Doing what? And I am happy. I'm fucking ecstatic. What do I have to do to prove to you that I'm fine? Interpretive dance? Stand-up comedy? Let's face it, Al – I've never exactly been Chuckles the fucking Clown; I'm not you."

"Sitting home all alone constantly and only leaving to go for school-related purposes isn't normal or happy! You don't talk to anyone, you ignore your own family… We all miss her, Edward, but what would happen if she were here? You don't know the first thing about being in a relationship, nor are you in any shape to be in one right now. You're a fucking mess! You need to take care of you," Alice cried adamantly.

She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was soft – almost pleading. "I know it hurts, but she's moving on. You need to do the same, because this – the way you've been numb and closed off for damn near a year now – isn't healthy."

"I'm busy, Alice. The last year of med school is a killer."

"Medical school has nothing to do with it! You need to get out of this apartment and live; you're not dead yet, so quit acting like you are."

"I have to be at the hospital soon, did you need anything else?"

"Nope," she replied, sharply clipping off the 'p'. "I love you, and…I'm here for you if you need me. Oh...um, Mom and Dad want to do dinner next week for our birthday. Please let me know ASAP what days you're available so Mom can make reservations somewhere?"

"Yeah, no problem. Bye, Al."

With a disappointed grunt in lieu of goodbye, she was gone.

…if you want to destroy my sweater, pull this thread as I walk away...

The moment I closed the door behind her, I unraveled, barely making it to my room before the desolation consumed me.

…watch me unravel, I'll soon be naked, lyin' on the floor, lyin' on the floor, I've come undone…

I'd lost her. She was moving on.I'd known the day would come, I just hadn't expected it to be so soon. Although, was it really? After all, it was nearly a year ago that she ran away, and she was the one who'd decided we were through. It made sense for her to be the first to move on. Besides, it wasn't as if whomever she was seeing was the first person she'd been with since she'd left. I grimaced, thinking about what I'd interrupted in her kitchen back in March, and Angela had implied that it wasn't an unusual occurrence.

I didn't like it, but meaningless sex…that I could understand. No shit, dude? I would be buried under so many layers of hypocrisy if I couldn't, and as disgusted as I'd been knowing she'd fucked someone else, I couldn't blame her; I had it coming. But…she's been seeing someone for a while…she wasn't just fucking someone, she was seeing someone, and that was totally different.

You wanted her to have a happy life, I reminded myself, but the words did nothing to ease the ache.

I wallowed for a days – never crying, just suffocating in the emptiness that had only grown worse since she'd left. Gorging myself on what ifs, maybes, and shoulda-woulda-couldas, until I bloated with regret. I didn't know how to get past it – didn't know if I could – so I withdrew even further. All of my free time was spent in my dark bedroom, sprawled across the side of the bed that Bella had preferred when she stayed over, with my face shoved in the pillows trying to conjure her scent.

Unfortunately, I washed my sheets on a regular basis. Had I known the last time she stayed that it would be her last time, I think I might have saved her pillowcase in a zip-lock bag so I would never forget her scent. Dude, that's creepy even for you. Yeah, that was creepy, but I couldn't say for certain that I wouldn't have...I missed her that desperately.

For the most part, as long as I focused on how I felt, thoughts of why stayed away, but after a week, my mind grew restless, and wandered down rarely tread and perilous paths. Laying there, in the bed that only she had ever slept in – or even been in – visions of Bella in my bed lodged in my head.

Like a movie reel, images of the numerous times I'd worshipped her in my bed, began to play on the backs of my eyelids; it was torture, but memories of her were all I had left…and looked like all I would ever have. I let myself get lost in memories of the way my hands would glide along her supple curves while I kneeled between her parted legs…

…fingertips drifting up her thighs, over the smooth swell of her hips, and skipping lithely across her ribs, so delicate just under her soft skin…

…teasing the curve of her breasts with my extended thumbs, letting them catch and drag along the outer perimeter as I continued my upward path…

By the time my hands stopped moving, they were entwined with hers, raising her arms high above her head – back bowed, body stretched tautly, and tits jutted assertively out at me. Untangling my fingers from hers, I wrapped her hands around the iron bars of my headboard. "Hold on, and don't you dare let go, Isabella," I whispered into her ear, giving her lobe a warning nip, and nearly moaning myself when her own breathy, staccato one caused her puckered nipples to graze my chest.

My hands began their descent, so eager to touch her, to claim her, that it was all I could do to keep their pace steady and slow…

…over the ridge of her collarbones, they slip down…

…down…

…down…

…only slowing – just a hair – when my fingers dragged over her puckered peaks. Unable to resist, when I reached the bottom, I cupped her full breasts, feeling the weight of them against my palms…

With a loud groan, my body seized, my jizz shooting out of me, pooling on my shirt-covered stomach, and drizzling over my hand. Fuuuck! Not only had I barely begun to touch her in memory…or me, in reality…before I came, I didn't remember pulling my dick out of my pants in the first place! It was fucked up on so many levels. A quick glance at my alarm clock told me that I needed to get ready if I wanted to make my shift on time. Hopping in the shower, I found myself wondering how she had gained so much power over me that, even after all that time, just her memory could bring me to my knees.

I thought again of Alice's news and, for the first time since Bella had left, I began to feel something other than heartbreak – I started to get pissed. How could she be moving on already? How? I was still pining for her like a love-sick fool, and she was starting anew with some unknown dude. The small rational voice I was ignoring in the back of my head told me that I was acting like a douche. Bella pined for me for five years, and I was bitching about carrying a torch for less than a year. Well, I'd only admitted to it that long ago. In reality, I'd been in love with her for nearly as long as I'd known her.

Rationally, I knew I had no reason to be angry with Bella, and I couldn't begrudge her moving on, but logic could not prevail over emotion, and the asshole I used to be couldn't be silenced. Deciding to re-emerge after months of oppression by the whiny bitch I'd become, he was in a foul fucking mood. Of course, thinking about Bella while soaping myself up in the shower in which I'd fucked her on several occasions only served to make me hard, despite having just come minutes before. Why not, I thought – wasn't like I was getting any – so I lathered up my hand.

Slowly stroking myself, I pictured Bella naked, her brown hair almost black as the water cascaded over it, breasts pressed into the tile wall, perky ass poked out, pink from my hips slapping firmly against hers as I took her from behind…fuuuuuck! I remembered the noises she would make – soft sighs and whimpers, throaty moans, and how sometimes, her mouth would fall open, but she wouldn't make any noise at all. Taking myself more firmly in-hand, I was just getting down to serious business, when I had a realization mid-stroke, and jerking off suddenly lost its appeal. I tugged on my dick a couple more times in vain. I was still hard, but couldn't find any satisfaction in my own hand, and I was pissed.

I hadn't fucked anyone in damn near a year – not since the meadow desecration – and why the hell not? If Bella could fuck other people – and Lord knew she had, I thought, remembering her pressed against her refrigerator in New York – then so could I. The familiar anticipatory tingle of excitement that comes from knowing you're going to fuck someone new crept up my spine. I wanted to resist reverting to that guy, to prove to Bella that I could be what she needed and deserved, and that I'd meant what I'd said, but it was so much easier to allow my anger to lead me back to bad habits. Old habits do die hard.

Somewhere deep inside, I felt that fucking someone else was giving up any chance of ever getting her back – was admitting defeat – but I still knew I was going to do it, and I hated myself for it. Might as well give in, you can't change who you really are. Bella had made it perfectly clear she didn't want me, and what, was I supposed to be celibate for the rest of my life? I didn't fucking think so. As angry as I was, all I could think about was plunging inside Bella's slick warmth – which made me angrier – and since I couldn't have her, I would have to settle for replacement pussy. The asshole won.

Decision made, I was oddly okay with it; happy to not be fighting my nature any longer. I may have also gained a small amount of satisfaction from showing Bella that I could move on, too.

I finished getting ready and headed to the hospital with every intention of getting some tail, but I'd been ignoring the flirting attempts for so many months, that I'd become oblivious to it, and I was having trouble tapping into the charm I was known for. Not so suave anymore, huh, motherfucker? It was almost as if I'd forgotten how; it felt unnatural – especially in the hospital. Though I was almost certain he'd never said any such thing in his life, I could almost hear my father saying, 'There's a time for sex, fun, and games, but it's not when you're on shift with lives hanging in the balance, and in your hands.'

Whether the advice was his or something manufactured by my conscience was irrelevant; it was a good rule to follow, and I went with it. I'm a good-looking guy, there would be plenty of pussy available when I was off duty. Maybe I'd take Charlotte up on her routine drink offer. For just a second, I allowed myself to think about taking Char while she was up on her knees, and then I smacked myself for thinking like a dick…with my dick was closer to the truth. After Tanya, I'd learned my lesson about shitting where I sleep…and fucking people in my med program.

I could still take Char up on her offer, though. It would be good for her to see who I really was. Maybe it would discourage her from making the mistake of pursuing me; I would hate to lose a good study partner. By the time our shift ended that day, I'd recognized my bravado for what it was, and was grateful that her customary offer wasn't proffered.

My days took on a new pattern. I'd wake up thinking of Bella before jerking off to memories of Bella, causing me to grow (irrationally) angrier with Bella, which would prompt me to commit to executing operation 'Get Your Rocks Off With a Hot Blonde' that day, but I never did. Instead – every day – I would pussy out, go home, get drunk, beat off – again – to things I wished I'd done with Bella, become angry with myself for being such a pussy-whipped…uh, pussy, and then I'd pass out, only to wake up and start the whole process over the next day. Yeah, my life was a barrel of fucking fun.

It took me more than two weeks after deciding on the course of action to actually work up the courage…or became stupid enough…to carry it out, but I eventually did. Having lost my balls yet again, heading home on a Thursday night. While stopped at a red light, I noticed a bar and an empty parking space on the corner and, on compulsion, found myself parallel parking without having made the decision to do it. It wasn't until I walked inside that I recognized the place. All of the emotions, sensations and thoughts from that night flooded back…Nice date, Bella…Say it…'please' what…I love fucking you.

I made my way to the only open seat at the bar which was – just my fucking luck – the exact same one I'd sat in that night. I frantically scanned the bar for another empty seat…there had to be another open stool…to no avail. I could have grabbed a table, but I knew from experience the bar was the best place to sit if you were looking to score. Sitting at a table made chicks think you were either there with someone or that you were waiting on someone, and they weren't likely to approach.

I almost turned around and walked out the door – I probably should have just gone home, but I needed a stiff drink, maybe several, to eradicate my memories of that night. It had been more than a year ago…almost fourteen and a half months to the day, actually…that she'd sat on my lap looking so utterly defeated after I'd collapsed to the bathroom floor in the very bar I was sitting in. I didn't want that image in my head any longer, so I sat down on the stool and ordered a drink.

"Keep 'em coming," I instructed the bartender before slamming the tumbler of whiskey back.

Drink after drink after drink passed my lips, and when I could no longer feel my limbs, I was finally free…mostly. I was also just drunk enough to at least act receptive to the obvious advances of the women eye-fucking me from across the bar. Optimizing my chances of getting laid, I waited with a smirk for one of them to grow a pair and approach me. I had my pole in the water for an hour before I got a bite…in the form of a drink being placed in front of me.

"The little lady at the end of the bar sent this over here for ya'," the bartender said. I picked up the glass, and glanced at the end of the bar. Meeting the hungry gaze of a sloe-eyed Italian beauty, I raised my glass in salut, took a swig, and with a gesture, invited her to join me. I would have gone to her, but I didn't think I could walk that well, and prey was easier to catch when separated from the herd.

A couple of drinks later, and we were exploring each other's mouths like the survival of the world depended on it. All the booze I'd imbibed throughout the evening was running strong through my veins, and I didn't care about anything except for her lips on mine. With her dark hair and darker eyes, she became Bella in my hazy mind. Things began to run together, and time began to leap so that there were chunks of minutes that I couldn't account for. Her hand grazed my cock, more whiskey, my hand crept up her skirt, should we go to her place or mine, and then…

I woke up convinced that the entire percussion section of the Seattle Symphony Orchestra had taken up residence in my cranial cavity…possibly with special guests Jason Bonham, Lars Ulrich, Tommy Lee, and maybe the drummer from Rush; I really hate Rush. Trying to move as little as possible, I rolled to my side, sneaking a quick peek through squinty eyes at the clock. White hot pokers pierced my pupils, the throbbing compounding the pounding in head and causing my stomach to heel and pitch.

Closing my eyelids tightly and clutching my aching head in my hands, I groaned in agony, setting off a coughing fit as my parched throat rebelled. I was in hell, but had no right to complain since it was of my own making. When all my various grievances finally stopped pinging off of one another like a fucking pinball machine, I sat up and cracked my eyelids once again, and realized that I was in a bed that wasn't mine, in a room I didn't recognize, and had no memory of how I got there…or what happened once I'd arrived.

I was still mostly dressed to my relief, but considering my plan for the evening, I wasn't sure that I should have been relieved. Resolved to face whatever, or whomever, I'd done the night prior, I crawled out of the bed, put back on my jeans, and walked out the door. I fleetingly thought of the (hopefully) pretty Italian girl that I'd been drinking with – she'd done this thing with her tongue while we were kissing that was just…fuck – and hoped that she'd been the girl I'd gone home with. If it was her bed I'd just vacated, I was disappointed I couldn't remember what'd happened.

Trying to get my bearings, and maybe a read on the owner of the apartment I was in, I paused in the hall just outside of the bedroom door. The first part proved easy enough as I only had two directions…and one of them was back the way I'd just come. As for the second part, all I learned was that it was definitely a chick's apartment. I started down the short hall, pausing again before coming into view. It was now or never and, since I had places to be, it was now. Two and a half strides, and one deep breath later, and…

Fuck me up the ass without lube or even the Goddamn common courtesy of a reach around...no! Tell me I didn't.

Everything in the room faded until it was just her, looking up at me from across the room. I'm sure my horror was evident on my face; I lacked the ability to school my expression into a façade with any semblance of neutrality.

"Ch-charlotte?" I croaked, my voice oddly high pitched, and breaking halfway through her name like my balls hadn't dropped yet. You didn't fuck her. You didn't fuck her. You didn't fuck her, I chanted silently, but it wasn't quite able to drown out the voice telling me that I couldn't remember leaving the bar, so being unable to recall having sex didn't necessarily mean I hadn't. Fucking logic. Sometimes I preferred being unreasonable.

"That is, in fact, my name. Aren't you a smart one. Are you always this astute in the morning?"

"Heh, heh," I chuckled lamely. "Eh…just a – little hungover."

"Can I get you some coffee…maybe some Advil?"

"Yes, please?" I answered, the lilt in my voice turning it into a question. As she set about gathering up some caffeine and acetaminophen for me, I made a poor attempt to find out what had happened the night before; I didn't want to offend her if I had fucked up…or her. "So…" I started, dragging the word out. "How'd we, uh…get back here last night?" Tactful.

"Your car."

"Right, right. So…did you drive?" I hated other people driving my car…hated…and couldn't quite hide my cringe as I asked.

"Edward, don't be a pansy," she huffed. "Just ask the question that has you beating around, not just the bush, but all the landscaping on campus…which you suck at, by the way."

"Did we fuck?" I blurted.

"O-kay – that's one way to ask. Rather blunt, but…" She didn't really seem to be talking to me, so I remained silent and waited expectantly for her answer. "No, we did not." Thank you, sweet baby Jesus! "You, um…certainly tried…" Maybe not. "…but I turned you down." Rewind. What?

Wait…why was I upset that she'd said no? That was a good thing.

"Oh, good," I stated, sounding less enthusiastic than I should have. "So…how'd I end up here instead of my place? What happened to…Gina?" I looked to Char for confirmation, thinking maybe she would know, and she rolled her eyes.

"Gianna?" I shrugged. I guess. "She was a little trashed…and her fiancé took her home."

I threw my hands in the air, like I was a perp, and she was the fuzz. "Hey, she didn't say anything to me about being attached!"

"Yeah, I got the distinct impression that the two of you didn't really spend much time talking."

Choosing to ignore her, I asked, "So…how'd I run into you?"

"I was actually on a date, and he wanted to stop for drinks after dinner. While he used the restroom…" Char filled me on how the rest of the evening went down after her arrival.

Char was looking for an empty table when a stumbling Gianna and I collided with her en route to the door.

"Charlotte!" I exclaimed. "What the hell! Fancy meeting you here. What brings you out?"

Looking around surreptitiously, she answered, "Bad date." She eyed the (trashy and trashed) girl at my side with distaste, and inquired, "You?"

"Just havin' a drink. Have you met…this is – this is my new friend, um…Gina."

"Gianna," the girl said, pointing at herself and giggling like an idiot. I'm sure I rolled my eyes. I fucking hate giggling. Bella wasn't a giggler.

"Yeah, thas wha' I said…Gianna. Gi-gi…" stumbling over her name, I gave up and said, "This is my friend Char. We're in med school together at Harborview."

"Ooh! Gorgeous and a future doctor! You're quite the catch, Eddie," she simpered before giggling again insipidly. I sneered, but reminded myself, You're not fucking her brains, Eddie-boy, and she can't giggle if she's screaming your name.

Her good breeding shining through, Char smiled politely, and said, "Nice to meet you, Gianna. Um, I've gotta find my date, so… I'll see you tomorrow, Edward."

The only excuse I can come up with for what happened next is that I wasn't ready for her to go. I'm aware of what a shit excuse that is. Char began to edge away, and I leapt into action.

"Wait! Don't go yet. You should have a drink with me and Gia-gina." I peeled the night's catch off me, and clumsily grabbed for Charlotte to keep her from walking away, accidentally catching her tit instead of her arm. "Oops" I announced loudly, but didn't let go. Crickets chirped…at least that's what it felt like…as the three of us silently stared at my hand gripping Char's tit, until one of us finally snapped out of the stupor that had descended.

"Edward! Seriously!" Char yelled, swatting my hand away.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Gianna, looking slightly panicked, asked, "Do you know where the ladies' room is?" Did I know where the ladies room was? Ha! I was intimately acquainted with it.

I pointed in the direction of it, and she rushed off, some guy immediately on her heels, chewing her out. "Who the hell was that guy, Gianna? Huh? The wedding is in less than a month and…"

"Well, guess you won't be taking her home tonight," she said with a sigh.

It didn't even faze me. I tossed my arm over Char's shoulder, and towed her towards the bar. "Lemme buy ya' a drink, Charlotte."

"Edward, I don't think you need…"

I silenced her with a carefully placed finger. "Shhh! Just one. I owe ya."

"Fine," she relented, looking around for her misplaced date. "One drink, and then you're going home and to bed."

"Okay, Ma."

"…so, I ditched my date, and had a drink with you. You offered me a ride home since mine had left, but you were in no shape to drive. I got you back to your car, but you passed out and I didn't know where you lived. My place was close…so I just brought you here.

"You got a little bit handsy on the way inside, and somehow dragged me to my bedroom while trying to get a throat culture using your tongue. Once I got disentangled from you, it was just easier to let you sleep in my bed than try to wrestle you back to the living room," she finished, my jaw on the floor.

"I'm so…fuck. I can't tell you how sorry I am, Char. I was fucked up, but I didn't mean to…you know. There's no excuse for such reprehensible behavior," I stuttered, more than a little mortified and appalled. Abashed, I was unable to make eye contact, and looked at my feet as I scratched the back of my neck. "I really am sorry."

"Don't worry about it. No biggie," she said dismissively, but the way she said it made it sound as if it was a big deal.

"Um…I should probably get going. I've inconvenienced you enough, and I still have to go home to shower and shit before our shift."

"No shift today. We have a conference at three."

"Oh, yeah. Right. Well, I should still probably…"

"Yeah."

"Look, I really am sorry for trying to take advantage of you last night, but I appreciate you looking out for me. You didn't have to, and I shouldn't have repaid you by acting like a complete dick."

"Really, it wasn't…" She shook her head, and waved it off with her hand.

"Sure, sure. I guess I'll see you later then."

"Yeah, later."

As I walked out the door, I could have sworn I heard her say, "You were acting like a dick long before we got back here, but whatever…" I shrugged it off – it was for the best, after all – but I still felt like an asshole. I didn't need to fuck around with her. She was a nice girl, who would only get hurt by a guy like me. And, if I was honest, she wasn't Bella.

Things with Charlotte were chilly for a few days and weird even longer than that, but eventually it passed, and she actually became a good friend. I confided in her about Bella. Not all the gory details, partially because it would have killed me to have to relive all the ways I treated Bella like shit, but some of it. The other reason I kept the whole sordid story to myself was because if she realized how big a piece of shit I was, there was no way she would stick around, and I didn't exactly have a ton of friends.

The few 'friends' – more like acquaintances, really – I'd had outside of my family prior to Bella leaving hadn't been close enough with me to bother sticking around when I'd gone into isolation. A few unreturned calls here, a couple of 'nah, man I can't make its', and suddenly they forgot they ever knew me. It was nice to have a friend that was just mine, someone who was removed from the mess I'd made with Bella. Char listened with a sympathetic ear, and didn't tell me everything I'd done wrong or judge…not that she knew the whole story. She said I'd flagellated myself enough, and I told her that sounded like something dirty. We laughed.

Our friendship – on my end – started mostly out of guilt over molesting her; I really did feel like a prat, and needed to make it up to her despite not having intentionally pawed at her. Well, maybe not sober, but the drunk me had sure as hell intended. The drunk me would've fucked anything, though, so long as it had a pussy and a pulse.

We didn't hang out much more often than we had been before then – just our usual study sessions, at the hospital for our clerkship and its mandatory conferences – and we still restricted our interactions to public places, but we did occasionally get together for reasons other than academia. We'd meet up now and again for a drink, once she had an extra ticket for a concert, and a couple of times she needed someone to attend some event or other with her, but it was never big deal, and they weren't dates. She knew we were just friends; I was always very clear about that.

I did eventually carry out my plan a few weeks after my failed attempt. She was a random undergrad with a pretty face, nice rack, the personality of a Labrador…ya' gotta ball, ya' gotta ball; come on, lemme play with your balls…and seemed much more intelligent when my dick was in her mouth. She was perfect; exactly the kind of ride I needed for my first time back in the saddle after such a long time off the rodeo circuit. So, why had it been so difficult?

I hadn't even really enjoyed myself while I was with her. There I was, balls deep inside her, and all I could think about was how I was betraying Bella, how I was proving Bella and everyone else right – I couldn't stop fucking around. I was almost unable to perform because I couldn't turn my mind off. The only way I could stay hard was to imagine she was Bella, but the girl's fake moans kept shattering the image, and I finally had to just flip her over to muffle them with her pillow. Seriously, bitch sounded like she was auditioning to be in a Jenna Jameson movie.

By the time she managed to stay quiet long enough for me to consider getting off, she had come more than once and seemed to be on the verge of passing out. She could barely hold herself up, which was fine with me since it shoved her face further into her pillow. Luckily, it didn't take me long to finish; I don't fuck unconscious chicks. On principle. Plus, it's no fun when they're unresponsive. I pulled out, and with me no longer holding her hips, she fell over, curled up – the pillow now clutched to her naked body – and panted, "That was fucking incredible." I didn't agree, and she passed out seconds later, so I didn't have to.

I booked it out of there like she was my baby mama and my child support check was late. Consumed and overwhelmed by disgust, I just wanted to go home. I mean, what the fuck? Edward fucking Cullen does not have problems getting it up, and definitely does not have difficulty keeping it up. It was one thing for her to affect my desire to get pussy, but it was another thing entirely for her to affect my performance, and it wasn't going to be tolerated.

So, while sitting in the cab on the way home, drunk and full of self-loathing, I decided that abstinence wasn't really as bad as people made it out to be, and it came with the added benefit of no performance issues. Yeah, I was self-delusional. I was feeling like a real piece of shit by the time I got home and passed out. I was determined to put the whole incident behind me, but it ate away at me until finally, about a week later, I had to confess to someone…I just hadn't planned that when I did so, I would inadvertently confess it to my sister, Rose, Emmett, and Jasper. I was the world's biggest fucking idiot. They weren't happy. Go fucking figure.

I hadn't been able to focus, so Char declared studying was out, drinking was in. I chose a random watering hole that was too much of a dive for Alice and Rose to consider entering…or so I thought.

"…she was hot, and I should have enjoyed every second of it – a year ago, I probably would have – but she wasn't her?" Char listened attentively with an intangible expression on her face while I droned on – in more detail than what was strictly necessary, I'm sure – about the girl I'd hooked up with a little over a week ago.

I was about to explain how conflicted I felt over what I'd done – eager to hear what she would have to say, hoping it would ease my conscience – and I realized how much I missed having someone to confide in, especially someone impartial and uninvolved. Before my friendship with Char, I'd gone to Bella or Jasper if I needed to talk about something…and if I couldn't go to either of them, I'd just fuck a hot chick, and let myself believe that made me feel better…and, being unable to talk to them, I'd been bottling everything up. As much as I hated admitting, even if just to myself, that Alice was right, I had to admit, reluctantly, how unhealthy it really was to live that way. I guess it was true – no man really was an island.

"I can't understand," I began, "why I feel so guilty for fucking someone else when she's moved on, and I don't stand a chance in hell of getting her back? It's not like I owe her any loyalty; she doesn't want me, and by moving on she's made that more than clear."

"Told ya' a leopard never changes his spots," came a voice like nails on a chalkboard. Fucking Rose. What. The. Motherfuck?

Slightly bleary eyed, but on my way to drunk as fuck and wishing I was already there, I turned around to find the whole gang – who I hadn't seen in its entirety since the time Char and I had run into them – staring at me. Of all the shit luck! Bars were obviously not a good place for me to be hanging out. They seemed to go hand in hand with trouble for me.

I ignored Rose's comment. "To what do I owe the pleasure? You guys stalking me now, hoping to ruin another night for me or something?"

"Pure coincidence, actually," chirped the harbinger of doom formerly known as Malice. Wonder what the symbol for that would be?

"Just plain bad luck for us is more accurate. Don't think so highly of yourself, 'cause it's not deserved; we have better things to do than follow you around. "

"Rose," Emmett started, playing the peace keeper…Rottweiler handler, whatever...for once, "come on, babe, play nice. He didn't do anything to you."

"Fuck you, Em!" Rose spat. "It's so like you to take his side. Your brother is a piece of shit, and the sooner you admit it, the better off you'll be."

"Rose, outside. Now!" my brother barked in a tone that I'd rarely heard from him, but brokered no disobedience, and Rose blanched, knowing he was beyond pissed off. With one last seething glance at me – teeth grinding in indignation – she walked stiffly toward the entrance with Emmett on her heels.

"Well, it's been a bundle of fun as always, but we're gonna bail. I've gotta go pull my teeth out with a pair of pliers, and then pour hot oil on my balls."

"Ed, man – don't be like that. You know how she is," said Jasper, trying to send chill vibes my way. It usually worked, but I wasn't having it right then.

"Yeah, I do, but the few times I've had the misfortune of seeing her the past few months, she's been an even bigger bitch than usual. I don't know if I'm gonna be able to handle bitchzilla during the wedding. Maybe you should replace me as best man, and Em can find someone else to fill your vacated groomsman spot."

"I don't think so, little bro. You will be my best man even if you have to be roped, hogtied, and sedated to do it. No offense, Jas." Emmett.

"None taken, man."

I had my back to the door again, and hadn't seen him come in. For a big guy, he really was quite agile and – large, crowded bar notwithstanding – could move nearly silently; it was kind of a nuisance, not to mention really fucking annoying.

"Dude, wear a bell or something. Stop sneaking the fuck up on people. That shit's not cool," I said, turning to face him. "Where's your bitchy betrothed? Stealing candy from small children, or pushing little old ladies down?"

"Very funny, dick."

"Ah, speak of the devil, and she appears."

"That's enough you two!" Em bellowed, drawing the attention of everyone within a twenty foot radius. "Rose, you're going to stop acting like such a bitch to Edward; and Edward, you're going to lay off the insults and name calling. For the rest of the evening, you're both going to act like adults, got it?"

"Yes," Rose agreed, snipping the 's' off sharply.

"Whatever," I unenthusiastically acquiesced. I wasn't planning to stay long.

"Okay, then. I'm gonna grab a round at the bar. Char, 'Wardo – what'll it be?"

I glanced at Char – having once again forgotten her presence – letting her know with a glance that we could leave. Surprisingly, considering her indoctrination…more like vaccination…to the joys of hanging with the gang, she smiled softly, shook her head almost imperceptibly, and gave Emmett her order. I shrugged, as if to say, 'I warned ya', don't blame me when the shit hits the fan,' and reluctantly asked for another Long Island, simultaneously shifting to sit beside Char. It was a better position in which to protect her, and allowed me to keep an eye on my family. Lucy, I got a bad feeling about this!

"So, Charlotte, how've you been?" Alice was feeling her out, prepping her for intense dirt-digging, and I knew it. She couldn't just accept that we were only friends, because she didn't believe in platonic friendships…which I blamed Jasper for since he was the only male, non-family member that Alice had ever really hung out with regularly, and she ended up fucking him. Cringe.

"Just ignore her, Char. It's okay. She never shuts up, so you learn to just tune her out after awhile," I advise.

"Edward! You're such an ass sometimes," Char chided me with an affectionate smack to my arm that I knew would only fuel Alice's 'more than friends' conspiracy theory. Rose scoffed loudly, but prevented from spewing any of her bitchy anti-Edward propaganda by Emmett's re-appearance. I've never been…well, rarely have I been so grateful for his presence.

"I've been good. Busy with med school, like Edward, but good. How've you been?" Char was too nice; a good thing for me, but a bad thing for her and for same reason – tolerating me and my familial baggage.

"Me too…well, not the med school part, just the busy, but good bit. So, what's up with you and my brother now?" I almost repeated the spit-take I'd done the first time my family bumped into Char and I.

"Alice! What the fuck?" "Excuse me?" Char and I asked simultaneously, both incredulous.

"Well, you're a hermit, and this is the second time we've seen you two together at a bar!" True, but it didn't lessen my urge to kill her. I couldn't believe this was happening again. Fuck déjà vu, this was the fucking Twilight Zone.

"It's still none of your business, but we're just friends," Charlotte informed her.

Snorting, Rose snidely stated in a not-quite-under-her-breath tone, "Bullshit! Edward 'Fucking' Cullen doesn't do 'just friends'."

"That's it! I've had enough! Yeah, Edward fucked up, he hurt your friend and caused her to leave you, but she left him, too…and none of you were – or still are – in love with her. At least she gave all of you a second chance. He has to live every day with the regret of knowing he lost her. I would think, being his family and friends, that you would be happy he has someone on his side – it's not like any of you have been there for him – but no! You constantly judge, and tear him down instead. You should be ashamed of yourselves."

Leveling each of them with a withering glare, she tossed back the rest of her drink, and then turned to me. "I'm ready to leave if you are, Edward."

I nodded and stood up, indicating with a wave of my arm that she should lead the way. Finding my voice as I passed Emmett sitting at the head of the table, I haltingly said, "Uh, later…I guess."

I was distracted as I left, but I wasn't so preoccupied that I missed the significant look Alice shot my way; I was certain I'd be receiving a visit from her soon.

Not wanting to leave my car parked at a bar overnight, Char offered to drive.

"You can leave your car at my place for the night, and call a cab. Problem solved!" she informed me, plucking my keys from my hand, and then adding in a rush, "You're also more than welcome to crash on my couch, or even just hang out until you're sober enough to drive if you want; it's up to you."

"That works for me." And it did. It would give me the chance to apologize to her – again – for my family's shitty behavior, and also, embarrassingly enough, thank her for standing up for me. If I did them during the drive, I wouldn't have to make eye contact…being defended by a girl wounded my pride a bit, sexist as that may be. Unfortunately, I either got lost in my thoughts, and the drive passed me by, or we'd been much closer to her apartment than I thought, because we were parked in front of her building before I knew it, and I hadn't said a word.

"Do you want me to wait with you until your cab gets here?" she asked, assuming I wouldn't choose either option that involved entering her apartment. She'd obviously picked up on the fact that at some point that her apartment was a 'no fly zone' for me. Except for the one time…when I'd molested her…neither of us had been in the others apartment; Char didn't even know where I lived. But I wasn't ready to go home to my empty apartment…plus, I had yet to apologize or thank her.

"Actually, I was kinda thinking I could come up for a bit, if that's okay. At least until I can drive."

Char swiveled her head around sharply…fleetingly reminding me of TheExorcist…and stared at me with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Really?"

"Yeah…I mean, unless you've changed your mind."

"Yes! I mean, no…I mean, that's fine. No, I haven't changed my mind. Come up, yeah." Stopping, she took a deep breath and then gave smiled at me only slightly unsteadily. "Sorry, I'm just surprised. We never…"

"Yeah…I know. I'm not really ready to go back to my Fortress of Solitude just yet," I admitted sheepishly, causing her smile to widen, and smooth out.

"You call your apartment your 'Fortress of Solitude'? That's pretty nerdy, Edward, even for you," she teased, and then added easily, "Come on up."

"Have a seat and I'll be right back," she said, indicating the couch before disappearing down the hall, leaving me alone in the silence of her living room.

Fretting as the minutes ticked by, I began to tug at my hair nervously, and reconsider calling a cab. I had almost convinced myself to do it, when she finally reemerged – fresh-faced and clothed in pajama pants, a matching wife beater with a hoodie over it, and…square frames perched on her nose? My hands stilled in my hair mid-tug, and I gaped at her…I didn't know she wore glasses…not expecting the change. It suited her.

"Sorry, I was feeling kind of grungy; I had to change. Plus, I needed to take my contacts out."

Saying the first thing that came to me, I brilliantly blurted, "I didn't know you wore contacts."

Instead of sitting down as I expected, she continued on to the kitchen, rustling around in the cupboards and opening the fridge as she continued to chat.

"Oh, yeah. I used to wear my glasses more, but they're kind of dorky, and too much of a pain in the ass at the hospital."

"I don't think they're dorky. They look good on you, you should wear them more," I heard myself say. Where the fuck did that come from, and what the hell prompted me to say that?

Char laughed and said, "You're just saying that because you're a guy, and all guys harbor a secret librarian-slash-teacher fantasy – bunch of pervs. I'm gonna have a drink. After earlier, I need it," she declared innocently…sending my mind straight to the gutter…as she joined me in the living room with a bottle of tequila under her arm – two shot glasses inverted over the lid, rattling against the bottle – a bowl of limes in one hand, and a shaker of salt in the other. "You want one? You could probably use it more than me. Your brother's fiancé is a raging cunt; I don't know how you've managed to not kill her yet."

"Have you seen how much bigger than me Emmett is?"

She laughed. "She really doesn't like you much, does she?"

Scrubbing my hands over my face, I groaned at her words, and slouched down on the couch before snorting, and informing her, "That's putting it mildly. She loathes me."

I removed my hands from my face, and located Char sitting cross-legged on the floor kitty-corner from me at end of the coffee table, with the tequila and all its accoutrements set up neatly on top. She filled the glass in front of her, and then picked up the other one and waggled it at me. I had planned on turning her down, but after she brought up my family, I decided it wouldn't kill me, and nodded. I would call a cab when I was ready to leave. Placing the glass in front of me, she poured the shot.

Char licked and salted the skin at the base of her thumb, and then slid the shaker my way so could do the same. Both ready, we picked up our shot glasses and held them aloft.

"To assholes, and not taking any guff from those swine!" Char toasted.

"To assholes!" I echoed, and we slammed the shots back, before biting down on one of the tart, juicy limes slices from the bowl. Discarding my lime with Char's on the table – fuck it, it'll wipe off, she'd said with a shrug upon realizing she didn't bring a bowl for the used limes – I stared at her appraisingly, and snarked, "Fear and Loathing, Char? You don't strike me as a Hunter S. Thompson fan."

"No, but I am a Johnny Depp fan. I have the DVD, you wanna watch?" She didn't bother to wait for an answer, hopping up and putting it in almost before I could process an answer.

Unable to help laughing, I mumbled, "Typical chick."

"Do you not wanna watch? I can turn it off." I didn't think she meant it, because it was already playing, and she made no move to turn it off. She was busy pouring another round of shots.

"We can watch it. I like the movie, but you know that only liking the movie makes you a poser, right? No one should claim to be a Fear and Loathing fan without having read the book."

We took our shots, and seamlessly resumed our conversation from where we left off.

"Who says I haven't read the books? I just said I loved the movie."

"Well, why didn't you say you read the book?"

"I like the movie better! The book was good and all, but the movie was phenomenal."

"It is a damn good movie, and both Johnny Depp and Benicio del Toro were brilliant in it. I can't think of any other actors who would have been better suited for the roles."

"Here, here! I agree," she shouted, and then sobered and abruptly changed the topic. "So, why does Rosalie hate you so much, if you don't mind my asking? It seems like there is more to it than just your guys' friend in New York."

I didn't really want to discuss it, but it was fair I told her. Having relaxed back against the couch as we joked around, I sat up straight, and slid to the edge. "May I?" I asked, gesturing towards the uncapped bottle of tequila on the table.

"Have at it." She slid her shot glass toward me, and I poured us each another.

The moment I discarded the lime on the pile, I poured us each a rapid-fire second shot and cried, "Cannonball it! Cannonball coming!"

When that lime too was discarded on the pile, and before she could speak, I explained, "I can't paint Rose as a complete barracuda, just because her and I clash. She's loyal as fuck to those she loves, and when it comes down to it, I know that she would be there – grudgingly – if I ever needed her to bail my ass out of trouble…she's family. However, Rose isn't exactly the most sensitive person, and she has her reasons for it; she's had to develop a thick skin over the years. You've noticed she's a total bombshell, right?"

Char nodded.

"Well, she's also really smart – bloody brilliant, actually – but no one's really noticed that about her once she grew into her looks. She's been treated like a piece of meat, coveted for her looks, and pursued unscrupulously for years, and because of it she gets treated like shit by other chicks. The thing is, Rose is a huge walking contradiction. As much as she hates that her looks overshadow her intelligence, she can't stand not being the center of attention.

"I offend both sides of her: the nerd, and the attention whore. Her bitchy, princess-attitude, and sense of on-her-terms-entitlement pissed me off from day one, so I refused to give her the time of day. She hit on me once – before she met Emmett," I clarified, and then quickly added, "He doesn't know. Anyway, I blew her advances off, and she's never entirely gotten over it." It didn't matter that I was still a virgin at the time it had happened. Even if I hadn't been, I still would have turned her down, though. She'd always been such a bitch!

I poured another round of shots. It was confession time, and I hadn't exactly told her about my past…dalliances. She knew of some of my screwing around in college – rumors get around – but she didn't know the full extent of my whoring around. I needed to prepare myself for the outcome. Tossing yet another lime on the pile, I spoke again.

"That's not all though. I had quite the, um…repu-taaation," for some reason, I dragged the word out like I was Bill Lumberg and needed her to come in on Saaa-turday, "in high school. I could, and did, get any girl I wanted. It was always just sex – I didn't do relationships and the girls always knew that – but still, there was always a group of girls who were willing. Emmett used to jokingly call them the Cullen Coven of Cunts." I couldn't help the chuckle that slipped out, but quickly reeled it in when I caught the barely disguised dismay on her face.

"I know, I know…" I held my hand up, stopping her, "…it was offensive, and disgusting – believe me, Rose kicked his ass when she found out – it's just…you'd have to know Emmett. He's like an overgrown kid with no filter, and at the time he'd just discovered what alliteration was so he was constantly…forget it. Anyway…"

I explained to her – in limited detail, because I'm a selfish douche – about the youthful indiscretions…whoring around, whatever…that contributed to Rosalie's dislike of me. The entire time, I worried that when I was finished, she too would see me for the piece of shit I was, but I didn't give her enough credit.

"…so to Rose, I represent every douchebag she's ever met who thinks he's God's gift to women, and cock of the walk," I finished lamely, a couple shots later. "Do you hate me now?"

"I'm not gonna lie, Edward, regardless of whether you were honest about your intentions or not you treated women like shit, but…you're obviously not that guy anymore, and don't deserve to have your past held against you. Rose was wrong, people can change, and I can't believe they don't see how much you have. Don't let your past, or your family, or the girl who broke your heart, or anyone define who you are."

I didn't know what to say; the whole situation made me feel odd, so I poured another shot to cover up my discomfort. I had no clue how many shots we'd had by that point, but the bottle was closer to empty than full, and on top of what I'd had at the bar, I was definitely well past drunk. I knew I should call a cab, but I still wasn't ready to be alone.

Sensing I needed a moment, Char turned her attention to the flatscreen on the wall across from us, and then broke the tension by squealing, "Oooh! One of my favorite fucking parts is coming up!"

Turning up the volume, she moved away from the end of the table, and slid over on the floor, situating herself next to my legs with her back against the couch. "Shot time!" she shouted, pouring another round.

Allowing myself to enjoy her company guilt-free for a moment, I laughed at her, and slid off the couch to join her on the floor. I held my shot aloft, and toasted, "To good friends in shitty times!"

"And good!" she added. We slammed our glasses down on the coffee table, and she immediately poured another round. She smirked at me, and recited, "Cannonball it! Cannonball it right back...then one more of these right on top of it!" She thought she was so good, but it was on…like Donkey Kong.

We tipped them back, and then got into a Caddyshack Quote-Off, slamming back shots between each round until we ran out of limes, and the bottle was virtually empty.

I placed my bet… "People say I'm an idiot because all I do is cut lawns for a living."

Charlotte saw, but didn't raise… "People don't say that about you…"

"…as far as you know!" we shouted together, and erupted in laughter.

The round was a draw.

And cheers!

My bet again… "I'll be working in a lumber yard for the rest of my life."

Char again saw it, and this time raised… "What's wrong with lumber? I own two lumber yards."

I re-raised… "I notice you don't spend much time there."

"I'm not sure where they are," we recited together again.

Another draw.

Bottoms up!

We downed another shot to seal the tie, making it official, and then Char realized that she missed the scene she'd been so excited about.

"Rewind! Gary Busey is such mess! I love him, though," she announced happily, to which I smiled dopily.

The room was starting to spin…or maybe it had been spinning for a while, I wasn't sure, but I decided it didn't matter. Feeling pleasantly sloshy, I closed my eyes and let my head fall back to rest on the seat of the couch. I drunkenly reviewed the night's events, and was pleasantly surprised that what had started off as a shit night capping off a shit day, had turned out okay. I was actually having fun for the first time in…well, since then. I couldn't believe the quote-off had ended in a draw; Char had been a formidable foe. Bella was the only person who'd ever come close to equaling me at the game. Technically, she'd beaten me a few times, but she'd cheated, so none of them counted. To this day, I couldn't hear, 'If you're not first, you're last," without getting a hard-on.

Minus the Rosalie conversation, the general levity of the whole evening, and the genuine happiness bathing me in warmth…or maybe that was the tequila…combined to give me wicked déjà vu. It felt eerily as if I had lived through some version of that night countless times, and then I suddenly realized I had…with Bella. Instead of freaking out over the realization, I let myself enjoy it; with my eyes closed, I could almost pretend that she was in the room with me. Even Char's drunken chuckles as she scrolled through the movie in search of the scene she wanted to see, sounded similar to Bella's. God, I missed her, but I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt that at ease, and content.

"Found it!" Charlotte declared gleefully, and then scooted back beside me on the floor. I didn't think it was intentional, but she was sitting closer than she had been before. Her side – just barely touching mine, but close enough that I could feel the warmth of her through our clothes – was making it hard to ignore her proximity. Eyes still closed, I registered the sound of the movie resuming, and focused on that instead…

"Few people understand the psychology of dealing with a highway traffic cop. A normal speeder will panic and immediately pull over to the side. This is wrong. It arouses contempt in the cop heart. Make the bastard chase you. He will follow. But he won't know what to make of your blinker signal that says you are about to turn right. This is to let him know you're pulling off for a proper place to talk. It will take him a moment to realize that he's about to make a 180 degree turn at speed, but you will be ready for it. Brace for the g's, and fast heel-toe work."

Char recited the lines aloud, and I distractedly mouthed them along with her, while the majority of my mind contemplated what the outcome would be if I were to pull the same maneuver Duke was pulling on-screen. Just imagining the look on Chief Swan's face as he approached my window, caused laughter to bubble forth so uncontrollably that Char looked at me like I was insane, and then purposely bumped shoulder, warning, "Shhh! You're gonna make me miss it again."

It hit me then just how drunk I really was, and I decided that I needed to head home for the night so I could crawl into my bed, and get lost in dreams of Bella. I abruptly quit laughing, and felt the melancholia and anger I'd successfully repressed most of the evening start to return. Apparently the 'everything's funny' drunk phase had passed, and I was onto the 'overly-emotional and depressed' one.

"Look at me in the eyes."

"Everything all right?"

Lifting my head, I turned to Char with the intention of telling her I was going to call a cab. My movement caught her eye, and she faced me – her movements heavy and languorous from the Patròn, and her eyes soft and hooded – still whispering lines along with the movie.

"May I have a little kiss before you go? I'm very lonely here."

Reality and something else…but not fantasy…blurred, and I wasn't sure whether the words were from the movie, from her, or were expressing my own sentiments…partially. I didn't think I wanted to kiss her, but I was actually very lonely. It had been entirely too long since I had felt affection or physical comfort. Sure, a week prior I'd fucked that girl, but that had been nothing more than sex for the express purpose of getting off…and even that had been damn difficult.

When Bella had severed things between us, she had set me adrift, and I desperately wanted to feel connected, not lost in space like I had been. I wanted to matter to someone again, so when Charlotte leaned into me, pressing her lips to mine, I ignored the ringing alarms telling me it was wrong, that she was not who I wanted, and didn't pull away.

I knew and admitted years ago that I was going to Hell; nothing I did at that point was going to change that fact, so why not enjoy the journey there?

"Oh, Mama," I thought along with Raoul Duke as he delivered the line.

As if we were both afraid to shatter the fragile bubble of illusion that was making it okay for us to do so, our lips met hesitantly, softly, but then a multitude of things – solitude, anger, need, want, fear, and more – coalesced, and the timid kiss quickly grew heated. Frantic hands, tugging bodies and limbs both this way and that, removed clothes; mouths grew hungry and roamed, trying to devour as much as possible in order to get their fill; and eyes closed, conjuring the images and touches of another lover.

So lost were we in the riptide of forbidden flesh and exposed skin, tongues and teeth, heat and wetness, sensation and pleasurable completion, that in our haste we shoved the coffee table out of the way, the objects clattering to the floor around us going unnoticed. It all happened in a surrealistic haze and, disbelieving, I just flowed with the sensations. I had craved it, needed it…completion.

And then…repletion.

"Can this really be the end?" Words danced through my ears as I hovered on the fringed edge of unconsciousness, and when I at last drifted into the darkness, I wasn't sure if it was my own thought or the echo of something I'd heard.

"I felt raped. The pig had done me on all fronts. […] This was Death Valley."

Awareness returned slowly – a hard surface pressing painfully into my hip…a stiff ache in my back…the feel of my skin sticking to a wood floor, and also…to skin not mine? My mouth was dry and my throat raspy, and somebody's sleep-heavy limbs were tangled with mine. I cracked one eyelid and, ever the Cowardly Lion, observed the room's destruction before facing my partner in the devastation. When I finally did risk a glance, it was as bad as I feared and worse.

I knew with certainty that I couldn't run – just disappear with dawn's first light as I was wont to do. No, this – she – was something I would have to face, and I didn't know how to own up to the mistake I'd made to myself, let alone her.

~\*/~

Songs Used
(In Order of Appearance):
The Sweater Song, Wheezer

Notes:
1. "Cannonball it! […] Cannonball coming!" and "Cannonball it! Cannonball it right back...then one more of these right on top of it!" – Carl Spackler, Caddyshack (the second sentence of the second quote is the missing line from the first quote)

2. Italicized dialogue in the second half of the chapter are quotes from the movies Caddyshack and Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas, respectively.

A/N: I know you're probably not happy with me, but you're going to have to trust me; I swear I won't lead you astray. This would be a lot easier if it was like a book, and you could quickly get through the times you don't like very much, but such is the nature of the fanfic beast. However, we are getting closer to daylight, and the next few chapters should – hopefully – come fairly quickly.

Thanks for sticking with me. Feel free to click the review button below to leave me your complaints/concerns, or to tell me how much you hate me, and how badly I'm fucking up my own story. Kidding. Mostly. That was sarcasm, by the way. LOL.

*Recommendations:
Of Kith and Kin by Chicklette
One Door Closes, Another Opens by EBobsessed
Beyond Time by TKegl
The Harder They Fall by Ironic Twist
There Once Was a King by Brits23 (C/B)
Hide In Plain Sight by fangmom