Hello! Well, some of you may already know this, but it's snowing in Seattle. This is a problem because us Seattlites don't deal with snow well. At all. Rain - sure. We've got that down. But snow? No, sir.

Anyway, I've been stuck inside for two days so, in addition to this chapter, I also completed two short chapters of a new story, Icebreaker. I'd love for you all to check it out, if you'd be so inclined. It's posted here on FF. Also, as I said in my author's note for Icebreaker, don't get worried and think I'd abandon or slow down on Wanderlust in favor of the other one. Not going to happen.

Enjoy!

I don't own Twilight or its characters. No copyright infringement is intended. This story is rated M and intended only for readers age 18 and over.

CHAPTER 7

Standing in this room, craning my neck to look up at the gleaming, dark wooded arches high above and the floor-to-ceiling shelves holding centuries-old volumes of books written in dialects old enough that few people probably understand them anymore, I am speechless. I barely hear Sean, the tour guide who met us at the front entrance of Trinity College, even though I know he's talking. This is not a criticism of his tour-guide skills, which I have to say, have been pretty great. I typically find these sorts of tours to be rather dull, but Sean has kept me entertained with tales of Bram Stoker and Oscar Wilde, of gun fights in front of residence halls and of college leaders who would rather die than see a woman admitted to Trinity. He shuttled me around the campus grounds, through the room holding the Book of Kells and finally, up the stairs and into the Long Room Library. I knew it would be beautiful, but…there just aren't words.

I feel a light push on the small of my back and notice that Sean has walked into one of the alcoves of shelved books. Edward is just behind me with the camera and is urging me toward Sean, who is holding open one of the red velvet ropes that run the length of the hall on each side.

"It's somethin' to look at, isn't it?" Sean teases with a glint in his eye.

"I'll say," I breathe, shifting my attention to the spines of the books at my eye level. Sean tells me there are around two hundred thousand books in this room. Some are covered in fabrics, others more of a board binding material. Some have faded labels, others don't.

"Do you notice anything funny about the books?" Sean asks, looking at me even though I see his pupils dart to Edward and the camera every now and then. It's hard for people not to want to look at the camera, but Sean is doing a pretty good job.

"Funny?" I scan from top to bottom, trying to note anything out of order. "No. Should I?"

"Well, if you look closely, you'll see the books aren't organized by author. And we don't use the Dewey decimal system, either. They're organized by size."

My eyes widen as I lean a little closer. "Size? How you do you locate any of the books?"

"Our librarians have good memories," Sean jokes before he goes on. "Actually, there's a catalogue system that corresponds to these letters here." He points to a series of letters engraved in the wood at the edge of each shelf.

Sean goes on to show me some of the more notable sculpted busts in the long line running the entire length of the room, on both sides, with a bust of a different person at the end of each shelf. I rush him through it a bit, and when I glance back at Edward, I see him smirk and shake his head at me a bit. He's always said it's dreadfully obvious when I'm not interested in something. I love history, I really do, but random busts of old guys I've never heard of would be one of the things that fall into the 'Bella's not that interested' category.

Before we leave the room, Sean points out one of the few remaining copies of the 1916 Proclamation of the Irish Republic and a beautiful harp which is, apparently, the oldest one in Ireland. Sean says it's around six hundred years old and is the harp that the emblem of Ireland is based off of. After I spend a couple of minutes marveling over those, Edward stops filming and I thank Sean for showing us around.

It takes almost no time at all for us to return to the hotel. Actually, one of the things I've liked a lot about Dublin so far is that it seems like it takes no time at all for us to get anywhere. When we first arrived at Trinity, we learned that an earlier tour was taking longer than usual and they asked if we could shift our own tour to later in the day. Jasper made a few calls and it seemed like that would work just fine.

We filled our time with a couple of things we'd planned on doing tomorrow before getting set up in the RVs. We checked out the unassuming, four-story Georgian brick home at 15 Usher's Island that didn't look like anything special but had served as the location for James Joyce's story The Dead, which happened to be my favorite of his stories in Dubliners. After that, we piled into the van and went across town (well, not really across, just further than I'd been until that point) to Christ Church Cathedral and St. Patrick's Cathedral. Nearing one thousand and eight hundred years old, respectively, I'm not sure that I really said anything all that interesting while we were there – I was too busy staring at the impressive height of the vaulted ceilings and the vibrancy of the stained glass windows. I sat in a chair at Christ Church next to the tomb of Strongbow and marveled at the fact that every Sunday, there were people who came here and sat here right next to the thing. I wondered if it was old hat to them or if they were as awed as I was over the concept of doing something as pedestrian as going to mass while seated right next to the body of a relatively well known medieval historical figure. Well, assuming the story that his body is actually in there is true, since apparently, there's some room for doubt. That's not really the point though. Dublin was like no place I'd ever been, and I'd been to a lot of places. The history of this place was so…accessible. You could just reach out and touch it, literally.

I'd asked Jasper if he thought I was doing okay while we made our way back to Trinity.

"I just feel like I'm not talking enough, not being engaging enough," I told him while we sat in the back seat, letting Emmett have a turn at shotgun while Rose and Alice sat in the middle and talked about what we should do later tonight.

"I think you're doing fine. You're reactions have been pretty good – one of the things that makes you so good for this job is your reactions. You have a very expressive face."

"Yeah, well. I'm afraid I'm making myself look like an idiot. I feel like I've just been walking around with my mouth hanging open going 'whoa, look at this!' over and over. And we haven't even been to the library yet."

"I think we've all been doing that," Jasper laughed, "except for your boyfriend up there."

I blushed and shrugged. It would probably take me some time go get used to hear him being called my boyfriend, even if it wouldn't be hard to get used to acting like it. "He's seen it all before."

"Yeah, he mentioned he used to come here relatively often."

I nodded. "His grandparents lived here."

"Hmm. I thought his dad was English. Although, I suppose Cullen is more of an Irish last name."

"Carlisle grew up in England but his parents moved back to Dublin after he left for the states."

Jasper nodded and turned to look out the window as we drive down Dame Street. I recognized some of the buildings and knew we were getting close to Trinity. Edward and Emmett had moved from talking about work onto hurling, a sort of field hockey-like sport that involved whacking around a ball called a sliotar that very closely resembled a baseball with a stick called a hurley. Emmett was very interested in trying it out, but Edward was warning him that it was rougher than it looked. Edward had played during a summer spent visiting his grandparents when he was fifteen. The roughness was something I knew Edward was no stranger to – there was a jagged scar, about two inches long, which rested just above the back point of his right ear and was apparently acquired when another player committed a technical foul and threw his hurley. The hurley connected with Edward's skull, sending him to the hospital and eventually home with twenty-one stitches. It hit him hard enough that the doctor said he was lucky not to have suffered more extensive head damage and his grandma put the kibosh on hurling, despite protests from his grandpa that he didn't need babying. Through his thick hair, it wasn't visible to most people, but I'd felt the raised line under my fingertips on numerous occasions.

Rose, catching wind of Emmett's desire to play a game with the potential to 'mess up his face' as she put it, chimed in with her opinion that he should refrain from doing so. Emmett countered with the argument that any sport could mess up your face and the four of them went on discussing the potential for messing up faces in a variety of sports while Jasper and I sat quietly in the back seat.

"You know," Jasper said to me quietly when their discussion was becoming particularly heated, "I'm really happy for you guys. Just thought you should know."

"Thanks, Jasper." I grin back at him. "I'm really, really happy."

"So is he, Bella. If anyone can tell you, it's me. Believe me."

#WL#

After inspecting the deep tub in the bathroom of Edward's room and deeming it clean enough, I turned on the faucet and poured nearly an entire bottle of the body wash provided by the hotel into the hot stream. The soap has a minty smell, which is nice, because it's kind of invigorating and while I wanted to be able to relax a bit before going out, I don't want to be lulled to sleep in the process. I'm the only one who has escaped the technical meeting everyone else is currently having in Jasper and Alice's room – there's no need for me to be present, I don't have much to add when Jasper's asking Edward about light filters and how that will translate to the post-filming effects Rosalie has in her editing toolkit.

I'm only about half-way done shaving my right leg when there's a knock on the bathroom door.

"Um…yeah?" I call. Although I'm pretty sure it can't be anyone besides Edward, that was an awfully quick meeting.

"It's Edward. Can I come in?"

"Uh…no."

"No? I can hear you splashing around."

"No. I'm shaving my legs."

"What? Then why can't I come in?"

"Because, you're not supposed to see me doing things like this. It ruins the illusion."

"I'm not harboring any illusions, Blackbird."

"Should I be offended by that?"

"No. Definitely not. Seeing you shave your legs will not make me find you any less attractive."

"Why do you want to come in so bad?"

It's quiet for a second.

"Because, Blackbird, I haven't gotten to spend any time alone with you today."

His voice is soft through the door and my resolve crumbles.

"Fine. Come in."

He opens the door and comes over to sit down on the closed lid of the toilet next to the tub. He looks a little tired, but he gives me a crooked grin and leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees. He scratches his fingers through his stubble and then back through his hair before he clasps his hands in front of him. He watches me carefully as I lift my leg out of the water again, resting it on the edge of the tub and bending it at the knee before I squirt a little soap into my hand and lather it against my skin. I grab my razor and run it carefully, slowly, from my ankle to my knee, then again.

"How was the meeting?" I ask and he shifts his eyes from my leg to look at me.

"Oh, it was okay. Not too involved yet."

"How do the dailies look?" I drop my right leg back into the water and raise my left leg against the other side of the tub. Edward unclasps his hands and moves the one closest to the tub to sit against the edge of the cool porcelain, brushing one of his long fingers against my ankle bone as I move the suds over my skin.

"Good. Jasper's really pleased with the way it's going. The whole self-guided thing, well, for the most part, is working out well. He thinks the network will like it for its appeal to the sort of 'do-it-yourself' traveler. Jasper's words, not mine."

"Well, I'm having a really good time so far. Dublin is one of the grittiest places I've been, but in another way, it's also the most beautiful. You're lucky you got to spend so much time here as a kid."

"Yeah, I know. I wish Gram and Grandpa were still alive, so I could introduce them to everyone, to you. You would have loved my Gram. She was something else."

"I'm sure I would have. I mean, they raised your dad and he's one of the nicest guys I've ever met. And I know how much you loved her."

He smiles a little wistfully. I know he misses his grandparents, particularly his grandmother.

"Watch your finger, bud," I say, swiping the razor down against my calf where his finger has wandered upward. He moves it back down to my ankle and continues his slow, back and forth motion with his fingertip while I finish up. His gaze is fixed down and if I didn't know any better, I'd think he were staring at my lady bits, but it looks like he's zoned out.

"Whatcha thinkin' about, babe?" I ask him, trying out a new name for him. I considered it while I was sitting here earlier. I wanted something that friends would never call each other. It's not exactly creative, but I think it fits him. Endearing, but not too sappy. Just our style, or at least I hope it is. Now that it's come out of my mouth I find myself holding my breath a bit waiting to see what he thinks.

"Babe?" he looks up at me, head cocked just a bit to the side.

"Yeah. I like it. But I won't call you that if you don't want me to."

His crooked grin creeps onto his face. "No. No, I like it. I want you to call me that."

"Okay. Good," I beam at him. "So, why're you so quiet?"

He shrugs. "I'm just taking it all in, I guess. I'm tired, and it's been a really long day, but for the first time in a while, I feel really happy. Not just on the cusp of happy."

"I know exactly what you mean," I tell him, moving my leg down into the cooling water. I draw my knees up to my chest and clasp my arms around my knees. "Go get changed, okay? I'm going to finish up and this time, no watching. I can't show you all my tricks." I reach for my smaller, bikini line razor.

He slides over to sit on the edge of the tub and leans over me, one hand on each side to hold himself up. I tilt my head up to him and he presses a soft kiss against my lips that makes me shiver even though the water isn't that cold. After a few seconds he releases my lips and stands up to leave.

"Alright, I'll go. But for the record, there was something strangely sexy about that whole last bit with your legs."

"Well, that's good, I guess. I do it all for you, you know."

"Really? You don't do it for yourself? I thought you women were into doing things for yourselves these days."

I shrug. "I suppose. It's kind of indirect. It makes me feel good if you think I'm pretty. Just don't tell the other womenfolk I said that." My feminist literature professors would barf if they could hear me now.

"I don't just think you're pretty, Blackbird. I think you're absolutely beautiful." He winks at me.

I'm not awesome with flattery, so I just say what seems polite.

"Thank you." It comes out just above a whisper.

"And I would think that even if you didn't shave your legs. Probably. Let's not test the theory though, okay?" He's on the verge of that little giggle he does when he thinks he's said something particularly funny.

I flick a handful of water at him and he uses the door as a shield. "Get out of here, you jerk!"

My laughter is still ringing off the tiled walls when he closes the door and leaves me be.

#WL#

I've almost finished my makeup when Edward knocks on the door again.

"Come in," I say, leaning over the sink to get up closer to the mirror. I need my eyeliner to be perfectly straight. It will drive me up the wall if it isn't.

"Your mom's calling," he says and holds out my vibrating cell phone.

"Thanks." I take the phone from him, press accept and cap my eyeliner. "Hey, Mom."

"Bella!" my mother trills into the phone. "Are you having a good time in Ireland?" There's a lot of noise in the background and it sounds like she's in car.

"Yeah. It's great so far. Really beautiful," I say distractedly, sorting through my brushes to find the one I use for my sheer, lilac eye shadow.

"That's great, honey! Say, listen, I've got a favor to ask you!" When my mother gets really excited about something, everything is said with exclamation. Unfortunately for me, that in combination with her asking me for a favor can never be a good thing. It means she's up to something.

"What is it?"

"Are you busy on February 20th?"

Now, I know better than to say that I'm free before finding out what she wants. Saying I'm free before knowing her plans has trapped me into having to attend gruelingly long minor league baseball tournaments with her nice but conversationally-challenged husband Phil, weekend long new-age 'getaways' with no technology access when she decided she wanted to get 'back to basics', and other things of similarly horrific natures.

"I'm not sure. I don't think so. I've already got a few things planned for when I get back to New York." Like lying in bed with Edward, making out with Edward, and possibly, more lying in bed with Edward. Maybe some laundry here and there.

"Oh! That's too bad. You remember my friend Sheila?"

"The one from the golf club?" Renee decided to take up golfing last summer.

"That's the one! Her son is visiting New York that week and I thought you'd be a perfect tour guide!"

Ah, there it is. The only passion Renee has stuck with in the last ten years is finding me a boyfriend. She never misses a chance to try to set me up, even when she lives a thousand miles away. Because I don't tell her about every time a guy speaks to me, she assumes it doesn't happen and has taken it upon herself to remedy what she sees as my one major flaw – singlehood.

"Oh. Sorry, mom. I can't. I've got plans with Edward. We're seeing each other." Might as well get it out now.

The line is silent for a solid thirty seconds. "You're seeing Edward? I thought he was your best friend. Well, besides Alice."

"He is."

"And you guys are dating now?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

"Seriously?"

"What? Seriously as in am I telling the truth or seriously as in it is serious?"

"Is it serious?"

I sigh. "Yeah, Mom. I think it is."

The high pitched shriek that comes over the phone barely sounds human. "Oh, Bella! I'm so excited for you! He is such a fox!"

I can't help but laugh, because I'm excited too. And for once, she's right. He is a fox.

"Thanks, Mom. Listen, I have to finish getting ready. Tell your friend I'm sorry I can't help. I'm sure they'll find their way around alright."

"Oh, honey, I'm sure you're right! Ahhh! This is just so great!"

"Calm down, Mom. I'm not getting married or anything." I roll my eyes at my own reflection.

"Sorry! Sorry! Okay, I'll talk to you later honey! Keep me updated! Bye!"

I end the call, shake my head and go back to my makeup. Edward comes into the bathroom and pulls his toothbrush out of his travel case, smears some toothpaste onto it and begins to brush his teeth.

"Well, my mom knows about us," I tell him flatly, tilting my head to put on my mascara.

"Oh?"

"Yep. She was very excited. Very. Excited. And I'm not sure how many sexual favors I owe you for saving me from more of her setups, but it's probably a lot."

Edward laughs as he spits out his toothpaste and rinses his mouth.

"You're right. It probably is."

#WL#

We bar hopped a bit in Temple Bar, and I was pleased to see that the bars in Dublin were considerably different from those in New York. The energy was more casual and the men, while maybe a little too eager to flirt, were far more polite than what I was used to in the States. Only once did Edward have to stare down a guy who got a little up close and personal when I went to stand at the crowded bar, shouting my order over the noise of the patrons seated at the counter and the music from the live band shoved in the corner. The guy was a little handsy but it didn't take much to get him to back off – Edward probably had a good seven or eight inches on him.

The day had been so busy that I hadn't had a ton to eat, mostly snacks here and there aside from the lunch break we took earlier, and half-way through my second Guinness, I was pretty tipsy.

I sipped a glass of water while the group finished up and I looped my arm through Edward's as we walked out of the bar and onto the cobblestone streets. The uneven bricks were hard to walk on in the heels I'd worn, even though they weren't terribly high, only about three inches.

Edward stopped suddenly in the middle of the street and crouched down, balancing himself with a hand against the wall of a chemist shop.

"Hop on" he told me, turning his back to me.

"No. I'll hurt you."

"You won't hurt me. You're not that heavy."

I teetered up to him, my head still feeling fuzzy, and wrapped my arms around his neck. I tucked one leg around his waist and he gripped my thigh then stood up, lifting my other foot off the ground before grabbing my other thigh in his hand so that both of my legs were wrapped around him.

I tightened my grip around his neck and laid my head against his shoulder, closing my eyes as he walked forward, my body moving up and down just slightly with his steps.

The next thing I knew, we were back in his hotel room. He set me down and we each undressed, not bothering with pajamas. We crawled into bed, me in just my panties and him in his boxers.

We didn't have sex that night. We just lay there together, his bare chest against my naked back with his arm around me and his hand cupping my breast, holding me to him. The last thing I felt as I drifted off to sleep were his deep, even breaths against the back of my neck. It was divine.

Review if you've got a minute - I love to hear from you!

LA