My stomach is churning, my palms are sweating, and my body literally feels weighed down by guilt. No matter how hard I try, I can't swallow down the lump in my throat, but I'm fighting tooth and nail to keep the tears from falling. And so far I'm winning, though, I don't know how.

My car is plowing down the highway at a speed that would be considered reckless endangerment as I'm racing the clock. I have to make it home before Edward. I'm still about ten minutes away and need to use this time to pull myself together before I see him.

I feel like a complete mess. My emotions are scattering from guilt to fear to hurt to anger to humiliation. I'm on this emotional roller coaster ride with no way to get off.

How could I forget about Edward? How did I get myself into this predicament? And why - dear God - why did I kiss Jacob?

My mind is running like a projector screen of images, flipping from one slide to the next, my emotions switching and gnawing at me with each one. First, there's an image of my car in the garage with Jacob and his friends laughing while I stand there completely lost and confused. I feel like a fool for ever trusting Jacob enough to go with him and for not figuring out that he was the cause of the whole evening sooner. Had I put the pieces together while I was with him, I no doubt would've confronted him. Now I'll have to settle for an altercation at school, but honestly, I don't think I ever want to speak to him again after the way he played me.

This brings me to the image of Jacob and me kissing on the beach. I picture it as a third party observer, watching Jacob lean forward, pressing his lips to mine while I completely forget about Edward and kiss him back without the slightest hesitation.

Closing my eyes, I can still feel the ghost of that kiss on my lips, Jacob's heat against my body, and the sand beneath me. But no matter how amazing the kiss was at the time, I can't stop myself from feeling shameful and guilty about it now.

Then I see Jacob walking away from me, his phone pressed to his ear as the words "Love you, too" reverberate through my mind. This is the hardest part of the night to sort through as my emotions skyrocket in several different directions.

I'm embarrassed at my actions, ashamed of myself for being so pathetic and weak that I couldn't stand my ground, that I kissed him. I'm hurt that he let a phone call interrupt our kiss at the same time that I'm angry. I'm angry at him for never telling me he has a girlfriend and leaving me to go see her. And I'm angry at myself for forgetting, even for a second, that I'm nothing more than a bet to him.

Had I let myself start to believe that I meant more to him? Had I really just imagined his walls coming down and letting me in? It seems that way now, but at the time…I could have sworn he was opening up to me. Even if it was just a little.

Then his girlfriend pops into my mind, and I can't help but have myriad changing emotions again. I feel inferior to her in every possible way. I don't even know her, but I imagine that she's the complete opposite of me. She's beautiful, edgy and experienced, where I'm average, meek and naïve. I feel a stab to my heart every time I think about him with her, but I don't want to admit that it could be accredited to jealousy.

Yet, her boyfriend is cheating on her. The one who says he loves her and lies about being out with other girls. That's when my guilt kicks in.

As angry as I am at him for never telling me about his girlfriend, I can't help but wonder: what does this say about me?

I didn't know that I was abetting a cheater. Does that make my infractions any better? I have to ask myself: If I had known Jacob had a girlfriend, would that have stopped me from kissing him? The real problem is, I don't know. At the time, I didn't even think about Edward, my boyfriend, so why would Jacob's girlfriend, (who I don't even know) come to my mind? Maybe she wouldn't. Maybe this whole time I'm blaming Jake and getting angry with him for being a cheater when really I'm not any better.

Then there's the final image; the one that I want to push out and ignore. The one that makes me feel the worst.

Edward.

First, I see Edward's beautiful face with his sweet, crooked smile and words of love and devotion. But it quickly shifts to a shattered, heartbroken expression as he finds out what I've done; then it shifts to anger, and finally, disgust. The bile churns in my stomach as I try to resist the urge to pull over and throw up.

What do I do about Edward? Do I tell him that I kissed Jacob? I want to at the same time that I don't. On one hand, he has the right to know what I did and that I never plan on doing it again. He should know that I don't want to break up, that I don't want to lose him. But on the other hand, I see how selfish telling him would be. Telling him would ease my own conscience, but it would only hurt Edward and our relationship. And I don't want to hurt him.

But doesn't he deserve to know?

The way I see it, I have very few choices. I could tell him, let him break up with me and call me all the horrible names I deserve. Or, I could keep it a secret.

I know it's wrong. I know what I did was wrong, but if I vow that it will never happen again…could I keep this from Edward? I'd be continuing our relationship with this heavy lie hanging above my head…could I do that?

What if I was in Edward's position? What would I want? Would I want Edward to tell me he kissed another girl or keep it from me?

Raindrops begin falling periodically, sprinkling against my windows as I draw closer to home. I still haven't made a decision, and my time is beginning to run out. My heartbeats escalate as I turn down my block, my eyes scanning the darkness ahead of me for Edward's Volvo. The relief is minimal as the guilt consumes me whole. The rain is picking up, steadily falling in thick waves as I park my car and run inside the house, pausing only long enough to unlock the front door. Wiping off my wet arms and face, I run into the living room, flipping on a few lights and turning on the television to give the illusion that I've been home all evening. Just as I'm kicking off my muddied sneakers, a knock sounds at the door followed by the squeaking hinges as Edward slowly peeks inside.

"Bella?" he calls as I round the corner into the foyer. The moment I lay eyes on him, I want to burst into tears. His crooked smile grows, and his eyes light up as he sees me. Dropping an umbrella to the floor, Edward takes three long strides and wraps his arms around me, pulling me up and against him, my knees bending automatically. It's a moment when I should be laughing, smiling and kissing him, but I can't. Staring straight into my eyes, he begins lowering me, sliding my body against his until our gaze is level. He reaches to press his lips against mine as I turn my head, letting him kiss my cheek instead.

As he sets me down, I brace myself for his question. He's going to ask me what's wrong, and I'll have no choice but to tell him.

"Have you been out in the rain? Your hair's wet." Edward's hand brushes down the length of my hair while I stare at him, dumbfounded.

"Trash." The word slips out. I don't know why I said it; it's the first thing that came to my mind.

"What?" he chuckles, collecting my hair into a ponytail. He bends slowly, kissing my newly exposed neck.

Shaking myself mentally, I try to recover. "Took trash out."

Am I capable of complete sentences? Come on, Bella!

Edward smiles against my neck. "You knew I was coming over. Why didn't you wait for me? I would have taken it out for you."

My entire body stiffens as he kisses me, and I'm amazed that Edward hasn't noticed yet. While my heart is pumping at a mile a minute, I try to pull myself together. His hands start caressing my sides, letting his fingers slip under the hem of my shirt as he starts nibbling under my ear. And all I can think is I kissed someone else.

I need him to stop because it feels wrong letting him touch me like this, but at the same time, I want to pretend like everything's normal. I swear it's one of those moments they show on T.V., where you have the angel and the demon on your shoulders. The angel's telling me to back up and tell him everything while the demon's telling me to keep my mouth shut.

"Big deal. I mean, problem. I mean no problem. It's not a big deal," I ramble on.

"Am I that distracting?" Edward whispers, nipping at my ear lobe.

Yes. No. Kind of.

I can't think straight.

"Come on, let's move to the living room." Taking my hand in his, Edward begins leading me out of the foyer.

Okay, yeah, the living room. The living room's good.

Edward grips my hips as he sits on the couch, attempting to pull me down on his lap, but I shift slightly, landing awkwardly next to him. I know I look guilty or panicked, so I'm trying to find any excuse I can to keep from looking directly at him. Snatching up the remote control off of the coffee table, I hand it over to him, keeping my eyes locked on the television.

"Here, why don't you pick something for us to watch?" I try to smile, but I know it falters.

Edward wraps his arms around my middle, pulling me back against his chest as he starts flipping through the channels. My eyes are staring at the screen, but they're not focusing on it.

"Ah," he says, stopping his channel surfing, "The Princess Bride, one of your favorite movies."

Princess. I think my heart stops beating at the word. Is there a higher power conspiring against me? Mocking me with this movie? I'm about to have a full-blown panic attack. Jacob's voice resounds in my mind with every instance that he's ever called me Princess. The guilt wracks at me again.

Responding takes a lot of effort, but somehow, I ground out a simple, "Yeah."

Edward begins running his hand up and down my arm, softly stroking me. It's a loving gesture, one that I would normally enjoy, but tonight, I can't. He nuzzles his nose into my hair, shifting slightly so he can run his lips against my jaw and throat. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to stay put and not pull away.

"I love this," he coos into my ear, "I love the way you feel against me, the way your body fits so perfectly with mine. I love touching you, feeling you, and kissing you."

His lips move along my neck as he twists our bodies around, lying me back on the couch beneath him. As he trails up my jaw, I start to panic. Jacob's kiss is still too fresh in my mind. I'm too guilt ridden; I can't do this. I can't let Edward kiss my lips right after Jacob.

It's so wrong. It's all so wrong!

Edwards lips are about to descend on mine.

"Brownies!" I screech.

"What?" Edward leans back as I start trying to clamber out from under him.

"Brownies! I could make us some brownies! Don't brownies sound so good right now? Here, you stay here and watch this. I'm going to go make us some brownies!" I'm completely freaking out and talking way too fast. It's a wonder my voice hasn't gone ten octaves higher to sound like Alvin from Alvin and the Chipmunks. "Don't move! I'll be right back!"

I couldn't have gotten out of there any faster. I'm practically running into the kitchen. My socks slide on the tile from my momentum as I try to stop, my knees smacking against the wooden cabinets. With a painful groan, I lay my head down on the cool granite counter top.

How do people do this everyday? How do people get away with cheating? I've been trying for less than twenty minutes, and I'm already a basket case.

How does Jacob do it? Here I am freaking out and acting like a complete spaz while Jacob is probably sleeping with his girlfriend this very minute!

Ugh, that is not something I want to think about right now.

But now it's engrained into my head. I can't think about anything else.

I need to get my mind off of this; I need to do something. I pull my forehead off of the counter long enough to pull out a cook book. No way am I going to make a five-minute batch of brownies out of a box. I need more time than that. I'm making these babies from scratch.

Pulling out all the listed ingredients and measuring cups, I feel like I'm on autopilot. My body is running through the motions, but my head isn't with it. Jacob and his girlfriend are at the forefront of my thoughts.

What did they do after they walked inside? I couldn't kiss Edward after Jacob. Could he kiss her after me? Did he kiss her? As I reach for the sugar bowl, my defiant imagination runs away with itself.

Jacob's hand is on her lower back, guiding her inside. After slamming the door shut behind him, he grips her by the shoulders, shoving her up against the wall as he attacks her mouth, her jaw, and her throat. His hands are roaming down her sides to the hem of her dress, hiking it up past her navel.

The anger and hurt of my own imaginings cause my cheeks to inflame and my hands to shake. I have to re-scoop the sugar three times before I get an accurate reading and toss it into the empty bowl. Only half makes it inside. I scoop a little more, estimating the spilled portion and add it to the mixture.

Her hands frantically grasp at his shirt, desperately trying to tear it off of him as he pushes against her. Gripping onto her thigh, he hitches it around his waist as her head falls back, exposing her elongated neck.

My inner voice screams at me to stop. Aggravated at myself and the direction of my thoughts, I slam my hands down onto the counter. Breathing deeply, I fight the angry tears from coming.

Picking up an egg, I attempt to crack it on the side of the bowl, but my spiked adrenaline and shaking hands make it a difficult task. Forcing my concentration, the egg cracks and opens between my fingers, but not cleanly, as the yolk falls into the bowl. I spend the next few minutes picking out pieces of the shell and flicking them onto the counter.

In one smooth motion, Jacob removes his shirt. Her hands move to his jeans, tugging at the button. Sliding his fingers under her dress, he grips her hips, guiding her movements to match his, while grinding against her.

I want to scream, to cry, to- to do something! Anything to stop the reel of pornographic images from coming to my mind! Grabbing the second egg, I toss it across the room, watching it explode on the wall, the shattered shell and yolk dripping to the floor.

His lips fall to her chest, his hands tugging down the straps of her dress as she wraps her legs around his waist. Lifting his head, he places his forehead against hers. "I love you," he pants before attacking her mouth once more.

My heart clenches in my chest. Does he really love her? Didn't he tell me in the student lounge that first day that it wasn't a big deal to say I love you? Maybe he's just saying it; maybe he doesn't really mean it.

Why do you care? my inner voice asks.

I shouldn't care. I know I shouldn't care. I should hate him. Hate him for everything he's done to me over the past week. He's tricked me, humiliated me, manipulated me, stolen from me, and yet, I don't hate him. I can't stop obsessing about him.

There is just something about him. He isn't always cocky and sure; sometimes he acts vulnerable and sweet. But that's just it, isn't it? He's acting.

I admit that I'm starting to like that side of him. That's the side of him I'm starting to fall for.

Oh, no.

No, no, no, no, no! What's wrong with me? I can't fall in love with him! Don't I know better by now? He was only acting sweet so I'd kiss him. Which I did. Because I'm an idiot, and I keep falling for his tricks! First with the sabotaging of my car, and now this sweet act.

Reaching for the bag of flour, I measure out one and a half cups, shakily.

"Bella?"

I nearly jump out of my skin at Edward's voice behind me. The cup of flour flies out of my hand and lands, clattering noisily, on the ground. A heavy cloud of flour fills the air around me, causing me to cough; my front half is splattered in white.

"Edward," I cough, "you scared me."

"I can tell. Are you all right?"

"Yeah," I mutter, still coughing a little and brushing off my shirt.

His eyes rake over the floor, the cupboards and the counter top. "What have you been doing in here? This place looks like a war zone."

Turning around, I examine my own mess. He's right. Most of the cupboards and drawers have been left wide open while my ingredients are scattered over the counter: flour, sugar, egg shells, yolk, and more. It's amazing that any of it actually made it into the mixing bowl. Not to mention the splattered egg on the wall.

"Um, I was making brownies," I innocently reply, sounding like a toddler who knows they're in trouble. I mentally chastise myself. I came in here to get my head straight, and all I managed to do was confuse myself further and make a mess.

"Yeah, I know. You've been in here a long time. I was starting to get lonely in there." He smiles as he starts walking toward me. "Why don't we forego the brownie idea and head back to the couch?"

I know what he's implying; he wants to go back to the couch and finish what he started earlier. But I can't. I can't do it.

I internally freak out instead.

Before Edward can cross the room and reach me, I swiftly turn and dart for a dish rag by the sink. My socks are no match for the slick tile floor covered in flour, and my feet fly out from under me. For a split second, I'm airborne; then my butt lands, followed by my elbows, smacking hard against the cold tile.

Ow!

The pain emanates from my elbows, shooting sharp tingles up and down my arms, and my tail bone feels like it's on fire.

"Sweetheart, are you all right?" Edward rushes to my side, carefully helping me into a sitting position as my hands automatically clasp onto my sore elbows, my rear screaming in protest at the movement.

Nodding, I stand, not trusting myself to speak as I feel the prick of tears sting at my eyes. But I'm not all right.

I hurt. Physically and emotionally.

Edward gently cups my bicep and forearm, guiding it so he can have a better look at my sore elbow. He tsks with his eyebrows knitted together in a form of empathy while his tenderness eats away at me. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve him.

"Oh, Bella, it's already starting to bruise." Slowly, he descends his lips to the reddened area, kissing my elbow in the gentlest way. "I'll get you some ice."

"No, I'll be fine," I mumble and sniff.

"Come here." Wrapping his arms around my waist, Edward tucks me into his chest, chuckling half heartedly. "Don't cry, love. I'm sorry you're hurting."

Oh, Edward if you only knew.

I'm unable to hold back the tears any longer and let them escape, dripping onto his shirt. For the second time this evening, I'm crying, reminding me of the first time. It began with Jacob comforting and ended with him kissing me. Guilt rears its ugly head again.

Stepping out of Edward's embrace, I wipe my eyes hastily. I can't allow the same actions to occur twice in one night with two different men. I can't keep feeling this way. Every sweet gesture he makes cuts another sliver into my heart. He's happy with me. He loves me.

How could I do this to him? How could I cheat on this sweet, caring, and selfless boy? I need to tell him the truth. I need to tell him about the kiss. My mouth opens, but I can't seem to form the words. My voice hasn't quite caught up with my decision yet as it falters.

"That was a nasty fall. You're sure you're all right?" Edward's large hands cup my face, his thumbs brushing over my damp cheekbones.

My eyes wander from his gorgeous green pools to his chest. I can't seem to concentrate on what he's asking me as my mind keeps contemplating what to say. How do I tell him I kissed Jacob? Do I come right out and say it? Edward, I kissed someone else, but I swear it's never going to happen again. No, I can't do it like that. Though I know, no matter how I say it, it will hurt him.

"Bella?" he questions again, searching my face.

I shake my head. No, I'm not all right, and he wouldn't be either in a moment.

Edward mistakes my answer, believing that I'm telling him I'm still in pain from my fall. With a small shake of his head, he leans forward, attempting to capture my lips in his. I know he's trying to comfort me with a kiss, but I can't allow it. Not again.

I pull back slightly, tilting my chin downward in a nonverbal cue.

"Bella, what's wrong? You've been acting kind of distant all evening." The panic is evident in his velvety voice.

Cupping my hands over his, I slide them off of my cheeks and fold them, clasping my hands around them.

Biting my cheek, I try to form the right words again. I'm absolutely terrified inside, knowing that I'm about to break Edward's heart. But my hope, my only hope, is that he'll forgive me. I really don't want to lose him. It's in this same moment that I realize how much I care for him. Maybe even love him. More than I'd thought.

This realization only makes what I'm about to do harder.

"My car broke down after school today," I start, quietly uttering the words. My hands are shaking as my heart beats pick up, the throbbing continuing in my elbows with each rapid beat.

Edward's brows pull together in confusion. "Okay. Are you saying you need me to look at it?"

"No, no, I already got it fixed." I bite my lip, waiting for Edward to make the connection between my car breaking down and where I would've gotten it fixed. But he doesn't.

"All right, that's good," he sighs. "Bella, I don't see how this has anything to do with us or why you're acting so…funny." His eyes squint as he says "funny," like it's not the right word to describe how I've been acting. Which it's not. The right word would be neurotic.

"Well, see." I swallow noisily; this is the beginning of a very hard conversation. "I, uh, kind of got it fixed at Uley's garage."

"Why would you take it all the way to La Push? To Uley's garage?" Comprehension suddenly lights up in Edward's eyes as he connects the final piece of the puzzle. "Wait, Uley's? You mean where that- that asshole works?" His frenzied voice reverberates off of the walls, causing me to flinch. He notices my reaction, his features relaxing into grief as he realizes he was practically yelling at me. Taking a forcibly deep breath, Edward moves closer to me. Bringing his hand up, he fiddles with a strand of my hair, flipping the end between his fingers.

"He was there, wasn't he? That's the reason you've been acting so strangely tonight. Because you saw him at the garage, and you feel guilty about breaking your promise to stay away."

I don't know how to respond. He seems so sure of his conclusion that I almost want to agree with him. But the funny part is I've never felt guilty about being around Jacob. Even though I promised to avoid him and didn't. It wasn't like I was lying. I did try to stay away from him. My attempts just always seemed to be thwarted. However, even when I did see him or talk to him, I never felt guilty. Maybe because it was such a stupid thing to promise. Lauren is all over Edward most days; she isn't exactly subtle in her effort to steal him away from me. And yet, I'd never asked Edward to try to stay away from her. Huh.

"Did you talk to him?"

After my small epiphany, I no longer appreciate the promise that I had made to Edward. In fact, for a split second, I'm mad. I trust Edward. I trust him around other girls and Lauren, trusting that he won't give in to their advances. I trust that he would never cheat on me.

A lead weight drops in my stomach. As quickly as the anger came, it fades back to guilt. Edward had me promise because he knew Jacob couldn't be trusted. He would try to get somewhere with me.

And trying he is.

And succeeding.

"Bella, sweetheart, I'm not angry. I understand that you're going to run into him from time to time. That's unavoidable. But please," Edward grasps my shaking hands in his, squeezing tightly, his gaze boring into mine, "tell me if he tries anything with you."

This is it. This is my opening. With a heavy sigh and a sinking heart, I open my mouth, the words dancing on the tip of my tongue. My subconscious voice urges me on, tell him. Tell him. Tell him.

"Jaco-"

"Bella! What the devil happened in here?" The kitchen door swings shut, slamming loudly behind my dripping wet father. Lightening crackles in the sky behind him. His eyes rake over the scene before him, carefully inspecting the disastrous kitchen until his sharp eyes lock with mine. I cringe.

"I was making brownies." I offer a small smile, but it's not reciprocated. Charlie shrugs off his jacket, turning to hang it on a rod next to the door. I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing what he'll see next.

"What the hell is this? Why is there an egg splattered on my wall?" Of course I can't help but jump as he yells, and I recoil slightly. Edward's warm hand presses firmly against my lower back as he steps closer to me, almost in a protective manner. Instinctively, I lean into his side, taking comfort in his body heat.

"I'm sorry, Charlie, this is my fault. I coerced Bella into a bit of a food fight," he chuckles. "As you can tell, things got a little out of hand." He gestures toward my flour spotted shirt. My dad appraises me and lets out a small huff, obviously accepting Edward's quick-witted lie. Not surprisingly either. Charlie likes Edward, though I mostly think it's because of his father, Dr. Cullen. For 'appearances' sake, Edward makes the perfect boyfriend.

"Bella, clean this mess up. Edward," Charlie deliberately glances down at his watch and back up again, "it's getting kind of late, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir, it is. I should be getting home." Edward looks down at me, sharing a quick wink and toss of his head, beckoning me to follow him.

Leaving Charlie in the kitchen, we walk languidly to the front door. Edward takes my hands in his, gently caressing his thumbs over my knuckles. Gnawing on my lip, I pull my eyebrows together; my insides twist and churn with nerves. I was so close to telling him. I almost said it, but my dad interrupted. Should I take that as some sort of a sign?

"Oh, Bella." Edward softly brushes his fingers across my forehead, smoothing out my worried wrinkles. "I'm sorry."

My eyes widen marginally as my mouth falls open. He's sorry? What on Earth could he be sorry for? If anyone should be apologizing, it's me!

"Wha-what do you have to be sorry for?"

He shakes his head slightly as he answers, "I'm sorry for the way I behaved before. I don't mean to sound like such a controlling boyfriend. I shouldn't try to tell you to stay away from someone. It's just not feasible." He smiles a little, trailing one hand softly across my cheek. "I just love you so much. Whenever another guy shows even the slightest attention to you, I get a little…protective. But that's not fair to you. So, I want you to know that I trust you."

All the air in my lungs escapes in one big gust as I stand speechless and shell-shocked. My jaw moves up and down slowly as though it wants to work, but nothing is coming out. My guilt and shame has evaporated, leaving me numb for a few blissful seconds, until another intense feeling of pain washes over me. It's as though Edward has stabbed me, my bleeding heart burning a fire in its wake.

He trusts me. I don't think I could feel any worse than I do in this moment. He loves me. He loves me, and he trusts me.

"No, Edward, you shouldn't be sorry. I should be sorry. I am sorry. I never should have gone to that stupid garage. I never should have-"

"Please, Bella, don't worry about it. Your car needed to be fixed, and you fixed it. You did what you had to do. I can't blame you for that, and I can't have you feeling guilty because of it either."

Why do I keep getting interrupted? I sigh deeply.

"I should probably go. Charlie will be looking for you in a minute." I nod in response, knowing he's right, but at the same time, my thoughts are a million miles away. Can I let him walk out this door without telling him? Can I let him go, believing he can trust me when he clearly can't?

He kisses me chastely on the cheek. "I'll call you tomorrow, Bella. I love you."

"You love me?" I ask in a whisper. Edward smiles brightly, looking at me, all the love he shares with me reflecting in those green eyes.

"Of course I love you. I love you more than anything." His declaration does little to calm me. In fact, it does quite the opposite as my fear, remorse and guilt heighten.

"Are you sure?" I want him to say no. I need him to say no, because if he doesn't love me, then my betrayal won't hurt him nearly as badly.

"Why are you asking me this?"

"It's just that- I just think that maybe you're better than me."

"That's impossible. You're the best person I know, and I love you all the more for it. Now, Bella, tell me. Really, what's this about?"

It's about me kissing someone else. It's about me not wanting to lose you because I think you may be the best thing that has ever happened to me and probably will ever happen to me. It's about me being so completely and utterly confused that I don't know what to do.

I can't answer his question. Not yet.

Fear propels me forward as I rush into him, crushing my lips to his.

Edward stills at first, taken by surprise, but he quickly wraps his arms around me, returning the kiss eagerly.

Squeezing my eyes shut tightly, I push all my confusing and contradictory thoughts to the back of my mind. I'm cherishing this kiss.

Because it may be the last that I ever share with him.

A/N: So..do you think she'll tell Edward?

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, sorry, I know there was a lack of "Bad-boy Jake" but even though he's not in this chapter, he still kind of is.

I want to say a quick thanks to all you wonderful reviewers. I am so shocked that we're close to 100 reviews already. Please continue to review, I love hearing all your thoughts and guesses. I try to write back to each and every one of you but if I miss you please forgive me.

I also want to say thanks to luvinj for recing the story. Feebes86 for supporting me through the chapter and dazzledbyjake for the amazing banner! (Check it out on my profile page!) And an extra special thanks to my fellow peas in the pod, jkane180 for betaing and wordslinger for prereading. You girls are my new bff's!