Chapter 15 - Arms

Emmett parks in my driveway and shuts off the ignition. We've been mostly quiet from his house to mine, the silence laced with excitement and nerves. The realness of what awaits us inside my empty house, particularly in my room, is settling in. The house's quiet has never seemed so appealing, so welcoming.

I jump out of the Jeep before he does and make my way to his side. Before he even gets out of the car I'm there, and he chuckles. "Anxious, Hale?"

"Oh, don't pretend like you're not," I shoot back, raising an eyebrow as he exaggerates a slow, leisurely pace. I let the ambling go on for a few steps before I grab his hand with both of mine and walk backwards, pulling him along. He laughs, his voice filling the quiet night air, and I giggle along with him because that's just how it is when I'm near him. His mood is infectious and sexy. I can't get enough of him; want to absorb all of him.

When we get to the steps I stop, but he keeps coming at me until he's right in my space, our bodies pressed together for the briefest moment. I turn to walk up the steps with him right behind me, his arms wrapped around my torso, his hands running deliciously along my hips. His breath on my neck and shoulders makes me shiver.

Once we're at the front door, I move out of habit. I've come home to an empty house many times before and while nothing about bringing Emmett home to it is routine, this part is. Fishing the key out of my purse, I let us in, automatically turning to the alarm keypad, and press the code to stop its incessant chirping.

Just like always, I hear Eric approach. His nails click on the floor, picking up speed, until he skids to a stop in front of us. His expression says Well, well, well, what do we have here? Emmett steps back, putting distance between us, and I want to laugh at the nervous look on his face. Like Eric is going to say something to my parents. (Although with him, who knows? I'm sure he's figured out Morse code or paw tapping by now).

Just to be safe, though, I lean down to pick Eric up and give him some love since he will not be invited into my room.

I turn back to the alarm with the dog in my arms, re-engaging it, then give Eric a scratch behind his ears before setting him down. Of course he doesn't scamper off like a good little dog. Oh no, he stays right there.

"You're... setting the alarm while we're in the house?" Emmett asks, watching me curiously.

"Habit," I say with a shrug. He moves slowly toward me, gently pushing his jacket off my shoulders, and I shiver when his fingers graze against my skin. "My parents have always drilled it in my head that I should when they aren't home."

"Ah, keeping the bad guys out?" The jacket falls quietly to the floor. I drop the crown on top of it, nodding wordlessly. "What if he's already in?"

My nod turns to a shake, slow and long. "You're not bad..."

One corner of his mouth pulls up as he traces along my jaw with the back of his index finger. It's the only place he touches me, but I feel it everywhere. He watches its progress and then his eyes bounce back to mine. "What am I, then?"

He's beautiful and smart and sweet. He has the biggest heart and the warmest smile. He knows who he is and doesn't apologize for any of it. And he wants me to be exactly who I am, too - the Homecoming Queen and the photography geek, the popular girl and the smart, shy girl. His girl.

"You're kind of amazing," I reply, teasing but not. The smile he levels at me is shy and sinful at the same time.

"Hey, that was supposed to be my line." He steps closer. His chest brushes against mine, and my skin explodes in goosebumps.

"You can give me another line."

"Yeah?"

My bottom lip catches between my teeth as I nod. I take his hat off my head, dropping it next to my crown.

"Okay, how about this?" Emmett dips his head and then pulls back, squinting mock-seriously at me. "It's not a line, though."

"I think I can forgive you for that," I whisper and lean my head back, looking at him, waiting for him to lay it on me.

"You're so fucking special," he half-says, half-sings. His smile is all dimples.

I raise an eyebrow. "Um, that's a line from a song, Em."

He shrugs. "Well, yeah. But it's the truth, too. You are."

I scrunch my nose and smile up at him, giddy. I've seen it in him all along and with everything he's said to me, he's seen it in me, too. "You know, you're right. I am."

I don't know how it's possible but his smile gets even wider. I know I'm beaming back up at him. His gaze shifts to the steps and then back to me. "Come on, you wanna go upstairs?"

"Um, yes. Yes. I do." I turn to start walking in that direction, but get a sudden case of nerves. "Wait. Do you want something to drink or eat?"

"You're very... hospitable, Rosalie." My name on his lips is delicious. "But no, I'm good."

"Oh, okay. Well then, should we...?" I gesture up the steps with a sweeping arm motion, and he looks at the floor, before looking back up at me.

"Yeah," he breathes out.

I take his hand in mine and grip the banister as we ascend the steps. Eric is right on our heels, which sort of makes the whole moment a hell of a lot less romantic and way more awkward, since we're both trying not to trip over him. Once we're in my room, I shut the door behind me and lean against it. I flip on the light switch right next to me, again out of habit, and the light shines brightly over us. Eric scratches at the door once before I hear him snort, his collar jangling as he makes his way back down the stairs.

Emmett is right in front of me, just inches away. I stare at his hands as he unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt, rolling them up so they're resting right at the top of his forearms. They go still before one creeps its way up to catch my chin, tilting my face up so he can see me. "Rosalie?"

I start giggling; it occurs to me now, of all times, that I'm a nervous laugher. "I... I think I'm nervous." I shake my head at myself. "Which is ridiculous because... well, because you're you and I'm me and we're so right together. And I want this. Like, more than I've ever wanted this before and that's why I just -"

"Rosalie." He repeats my name again, like he's reminding me who I am.

"Yeah?"

His fingers find the light switch and click it off, leaving the room glowing from the small lamp sitting on my desk and the string of white Christmas lights hanging over my bed.

"Come here," he says as he takes both of my hands in his and pulls me to the middle of my room. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. One hand stays planted on my back while the other one cradles my hair. And then we're swaying.

I start to pull away. "Wait, what are you - what are we -"

"Dancing," he hums, his grip tightening around me. Never mind the fact that there's no music.

"I thought you didn't dance. That's what you told me that first night at Edward's house," I say, almost shyly.

"You weren't supposed to remember anything from that night," he reminds me.

"Yeah, well, I remember everything from that night," I tease. "You called me beautiful."

"You told me your secret," he counters, turning us slowly in a circle.

I breathe him in, my nose pressed against his chest. "I'd tell you all of my secrets."

"I'll keep that in mind." I can hear the smile in his voice, and I pull back so I can see it. His hair looks almost black in the soft light, wild curls framing his face. "Can I tell you something?"

"Anything." Everything. I run my hands up his back and his muscles tense under my fingertips, his dimples flashing in acknowledgement of my touch. It makes my heart skip a beat.

"I was bummed out earlier watching you dance with King -"

"I don't think you would've been if you knew what was really going on out there," I interrupt with a soft snort.

"What was really going on out there?"

"A lot of awkwardness. He didn't take the break up very well. I think he figured that I'd come back to him, you know? And when I didn't..." I shrug, watching the steady thump of Emmett's pulse in his neck. "He just needed to be reminded why I did it in the first place. We were never good for each other, especially at the end."

"Does he get it now?" Emmett asks. His jaw is twitching a little and I place a kiss there.

"I'm pretty sure I laid it out clearly."

"Good." He grins, spinning me in a slow circle before pulling me back to him again. "Anyway, I was bummed out about that, but I've gotta say this worked out in my favor."

I quirk my eyebrow. "Dancing in my room without music is in your favor?"

"Trust me, I'd rather be in your bedroom than the gym. And I can sing if you want, but my singing skills are even shittier than my dancing skills." I let out a laugh and shake my head, a little breathless. I'm aware again of how private it is here, how intimate it is to be this close to him in my room when no one's home. I wonder if he's thinking the same thing; his heart is beating fast and heavy, even though his voice is nonchalant. It dips lower when he says, "I like how it turned out, just you and me here."

"Me, too," I murmur.

Eventually our movements slow until we drift to a stop. We don't let go, still pressed so close, and I close my eyes, almost afraid to look at him.

I remember what it felt like just before Roy and I had sex for the first time, how nervous I was, the way my fingers shook when I unbuttoned my top (because he was impatient and couldn't get them undone fast enough). But this nervous, the nervous I'm feeling when Emmett's fingers trail up from the base of my spine until they hit bare skin just below my shoulder blades, when they go all the way up until they reach my neck, is so different. It's just that I want this so bad. I want to be good for him because he's been so good to me.

My breath catches when I feel Emmett's nose against my temple. He's shifting, moving his head so that his mouth is close to mine. I hold onto him, stop breathing completely. The anticipation of who's going to make the first move is almost painful, but then he decides for us, catching my lips with his. His mouth is warm, soft, and I let out a whimper, which I'm embarrassed about for approximately half a second. But he seems to like it, inhaling through his nose and pulling me closer while his mouth not so gently coerces mine open. And then there's no room for embarrassment or nervousness, not for this kiss, because he feels so, so good.

His hands drift, explore, but don't go to the places that ache for him, just in my hair and dragging along the curve of my waist, curling around my hips. We're still standing in the middle of my room, but even when I deepen the kiss he doesn't pull me back toward the bed like I expect him to.

There's a sudden noise outside, a neighbor pulling into their driveway or something. I barely hear it, but Emmett pulls away, wild-eyed. "Shit, is that - are your parents home?"

"What? Shhh, no." My lips find his again, try to ease his unwarranted nerves, but he pulls his lips away from mine, looking around.

"Your dad hasn't even met me. I don't want the first time that we meet to be the day he orders the hit -"

I squint up at him, giggling at his sudden nerves. It's a nice turn around, to be the one so sure. "I told you I'd take care of you, didn't I? You can check out my closet if you're that concerned." His eyes dart over to the closet door, like he's almost considering it. Pulling away, I walk toward my bed. "While you're over there, I guess I'll just be over here. On my bed." I sigh dramatically. "Alone."

Flopping down at the foot of my bed, I kick off my shoes, then lean back and grin at the ceiling. I know it's only a matter of time before he comes over, and he does. But instead of lying on the bed, he hovers at the edge of it, right over me. He's back-lit by the strand of twinkle lights, reminding me of the stars that lit up the sky behind him that first night in Edward's backyard.

I can tell by his smile that he's thinking the same thing. "Now, why does this feel familiar?"

"You've always felt familiar, Em. Even when we didn't really know each other."

He says nothing, just lowers himself onto the bed next to me and runs a finger up my side, tracing the zipper on my dress. Even though there's fabric between us, his finger is charged, the zap of electricity tangible, if not visible. Leaning back, my head automatically falls to the side as his nose runs along the column of my neck, making me shiver. His nose skims higher, toward my ear, his mouth following with soft kisses.

"Can I?" he asks, his breath heavy and hot in my ear as his finger makes its way back up the teeth of the zipper, parting the fabric that keeps it hidden.

I make a noise I can only assume lets him know that he's more than welcome to, because he grasps the tiny zipper, pulling it down to where it stops just at my hip. His mouth leaves my neck and I look over my shoulder so I can see his face. There's a mystified expression as his eyes scan back up to see the tiny eyelet hook still clasped, holding the fabric together.

"Jesus," he grumbles under his breath. "They really make these things complicated, don't they?" He has to employ both hands to grasp one side of the dress and unclasp it, and I lean to the side to give him a better angle. I could help more, but it's a hell of a lot more humorous watching him.

"And just think, you haven't even gotten to my strapless bra yet."

"I'm counting on you to help me out there." He releases his hold on my dress and it falls to my waist. I let out a little sigh when he sucks in a breath and murmurs, "So damn beautiful."

When I stand up and let it slip over my hips and pool at my feet, I keep my eyes on him, because the look on his face makes me feel brave. I step closer, biting my lip when his hands go to the backs of my thighs to bring me between his legs.

I finger one of the buttons on his shirt with a smile. "Your turn."

"By all means."

He's grinning, too, his fingers tracing patterns on my skin as I pop open the first button, move to the next one and then the next. He gets the bottom ones that I can't reach, and shrugs out of it. Then he pulls at the neck of his undershirt to yank it over his head and I try not to make a noise when I see all of that skin and muscle. Jesus, he's really, really gorgeous. We've felt each other, have seen parts of one another, but not like this. I feel a rush of anticipation. I can't even hide the fact that I'm staring at him. He's staring, too, intense but still with a hint of the smile that's so him.

I definitely do make a noise when I kneel against the bed and his hands find me again, his mouth going to my neck. I can't help myself. He lets out a barely audible moan that I hear more in my bones than anywhere else. His breath is fast and warm as he kisses down to my collarbone.

I feel his broad palm move up my thigh, over my behind and up my back until he gets to the clasp of my bra. He fumbles with it and I press my lips together, trying not to laugh. My hands weave into his hair, about to bring him back to me, but a second later he's got it and it falls down between us.

I'm sure he can see my heart beating through my chest; he's looking right at it, one hand moving to feel me there. He traces the curve of my breast, sweeps his thumb over skin that I didn't know was this sensitive before now.

"You didn't need me after all," I say, teasing with words while he does the same with touch. My voice comes out shaky. This is really happening. There's this slow fire building inside of me and I've never, ever felt like this. I know he's done this before, but I also know he feels exactly the same as I do, like this is the first time. Or maybe it's just that it's the first time that really matters.

"Yeah, I do."

"Yeah?" I ask, because I want to keep him talking. Because I like the reassurance.

"Yeah," he breathes out. He scoots back so that his head is on my pillow, chucking the throw pillows on the floor next to the bed. Once again, he fills my bed.

"You should probably ditch the pants, too," I comment, quiet and teasing, but not really.

Resorting to teasing and humor isn't something that I normally do, but with Emmett it feels like just another facet of our relationship. I love that there are so many.

But there's nothing funny about the fire burning brighter, this craving, while I stand at the edge of the bed and watch him unbutton his pants, raising his hips so he can push them off. Tugging at the hem, I help remove them, tossing them at my desk chair. He still has his boxers on, but before crawling up the bed, up him, I decide to take my underwear off. After all, removing clothing from the equation is necessary.

Of course, after I do that, I internally freak out. And maybe a little externally too. I'm so... naked.

But then he murmurs "fuck" under his breath, his eyes moving everywhere. I can feel them burn my skin. He watches me as I get on the bed and straddle his legs. He pulls me close, my body pressing against his, and says, "God, Rosalie."

It makes me feel good, powerful knowing that I have this effect on him, the same that he has on me. We've been here before: in this bed, in this position, in this state of undress. But everything is different now. The times before were all just practice runs, leading up to this.

His fingers dance along the curve of my hip and I squirm at how it tickles. Quite unplanned, I push against him. His boxers are still there, the only thing that keeps us apart, and we both gasp as he involuntarily strains up. "Holy shit. I can't... I need..."

"More?" It comes out half-question, half-demand.

"You."

I scoot off him and lay on my side, waiting breathlessly as he pushes his boxers down his hips, down his thighs. He kicks at them and I laugh when they get caught around his ankles. He squints over at me, his face a mix of amusement and exasperation and want. I keep my eyes locked with his, but when my hand sweeps down his stomach, I can feel him, warm and straining. The smile tugging at his mouth fades and his hand goes into my hair. He pulls me to him, rolling us so that he's half on top of me. I feel him that way, too, against my hip, and it's so much better.

"You feel so good," I whisper without thinking, running my leg up his.

He groans, dips his head to take my bottom lip in between his and then we're kissing. We've kissed a lot - god, a lot - and I thought I knew every kind he had for me: the deep need you now kind when things get heated and on the verge of no control; the teasing little bites he gives me when he wants to make me smile; the lingering kind that's all lips, no tongue. But this one is different. It's all of those things and then more, more, one after another after another, until I'm pushing up against him, squirming again, but not because his touch tickles. His hands - in my hair, along my waist, his skin everywhere against mine - feels almost painfully good.

"Rose..." he trails off, pulling back a little so he can look down at me. His hair is everywhere, his eyes everywhere, too. "I want you so much."

I want him, too, so much I can barely breathe. "Do you have..." I trip to a stop. His mouth has slipped to my collarbone and his hand down to my stomach, and the word flies right out of my brain.

"Do I have...?" he repeats, and then he's touching me, and he knows exactly how much I need him. "Oh, fuck."

My hips arch up and he moans into my shoulder and I pant out, "A thing, a thing. A condom."

"A thing. Right. Yeah, I have a thing..." His tone is teasing, but hoarse. His hips push against mine. Shaking his head as though he's trying to clear it, he frowns slightly. "Shit, I didn't plan that well, at all..." He groans and glances over his shoulder at his pants. "Sit tight, Hale."

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere," I breathe out, watching as he scrambles off the bed, attempting not to fall in his haste, and reaches into the pocket of his pants. I'm trying not to giggle at his over-eagerness. I succeed when he turns back toward me and I see the expression on his face.

He's back at the edge of the bed so fast. We both stare at each other for a second. The range of emotions I've felt since we got to my house has been vast, but we both know we've been leading up to this moment. My heart swells at the play of emotions on his face. I feel special and beautiful and loved, and I know that this is what you're supposed to feel. It's right. With Emmett, it always is.

Purposefully, he places the condom on the bed next to me. "Don't you need to...?" I start, but I stop talking when he shakes his head and kneels on the bed.

He leans forward, so his face is closer to mine. "Babe, I'm not going to last long. You first." And then he's gone, between my thighs. He's touching me and it feels like he's everywhere. He's outside and inside and he's mine and I'm his. Even though he's done this before, it speaks volumes that in this moment, he's more interested in my needs than in his own. He's that considerate. He's that good.

Soon I'm chanting his name and God's and mumbling incoherent noises, feeling the waves of electricity pulse from where he's touching me outward, so that it spreads throughout my body. I grasp first the sheets and then his hair. "Now, now, now..." I chant. He pulls away instead of getting closer and I open my eyes the tiniest bit when I hear the rip of the wrapper. I want to watch him.

He comes back to me, and my body relaxes once he's where he belongs, our skin pressed together. I can feel him so close, right there and instinctively, my hips tilt toward him, ready for him. "Now?" he asks.

I look up at him and we breathe together, and he's perfect. I nod once and he reaches between us, guiding himself to me. Before he's even there, he's whispering words like holy shit, amazing and fucking good. And my name. He's saying my name a lot, speaking it reverently.

But he loses his words when he slowly pushes into me and groans into my neck, mixing with mine. I lift my hips to his and his hand clamps down, stopping me.

"Just...don't move for a sec," he breathes, pulling back so I can see his face. His jaw is tight, his eyes half-closed. I let my hand drift over his face, down his neck, along his shoulder where the muscles are tight, almost shaking because he's holding most of his weight. He smiles, this beautiful, soft one, and his gaze burns across my eyes, my lips. When he pushes forward slightly, like he's testing himself, the smile goes away but the look in his eyes stays. "I need -"

"More," I whisper, interrupting him. I know he wants to just let go, and I want it, too.

And then he does, starts moving steadily while my hands drift everywhere, everywhere, feeling the muscles in his shoulders and back, wherever I can reach. I want all of him. I push closer and pull him closer at the same time, bring him all around me. He touches my face and my hair, kisses me, breathes against my mouth and then my skin when his face nuzzles into my neck. The sounds he's making - the sounds he's pulling out of me– are all around us. I dig my fingers into his warm skin because they're making me crave him in a way that's almost too much. It was never like this before.

I kiss his jaw and then his neck and taste his skin, smiling when he shudders slightly. He reaches blindly for my hand when he starts losing his rhythm and our fingers slip together.

"The way you feel...I'm so close, baby," he whispers hoarsely.

"So good," I gasp, right at his ear. He shivers again as my hips keep moving with his, trying to keep pace, and then he's shaking. His hand tightens around mine so hard that I'm sure he's cutting off circulation. God, but I love the intensity of it and what it means. My fingers could turn blue and I wouldn't care. And every other part of me is flooded with feeling anyway, so I hold onto him until he goes quiet and mostly still, except for a few twitches of his body and soft kisses against my neck.

"Ro." He murmurs my name, one of his hands tickling down my side.

"Mmm?" It's all I can get out. I'm floating, even though I'm kind of pinned to the bed by his hips. Our legs are tangled, my hand still caught in his, and I don't think I ever, ever want to move.

"Am I crushing you?"

"Maybe a little bit," I admit. It feels so good, though, and I miss the weight of him as soon as he rolls off. But now I get to see his face, his ridiculously gorgeous smile. I poke at his dimples and he catches my wrist, kissing the inside of it.

"Be right back, okay?"

I nod, pressing my cheek into my pillow with a grin. He gets up slowly; his hand is the last thing to leave the bed, lingering with mine, and then he's up and grabbing his boxers as he makes his way to my bathroom. I watch him go, feeling sleepy and at the same time wide awake.

Oh, my god. That just happened. I press my face into my pillow. I'm starting to ache a little bit, but in a really, really good way.

Emmett comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later and slides onto the bed, scooting in close. He pulls at the blanket at the edge of my bed, draping it over us. I hook my ankles around his and he tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. I can smell my hand soap, some expensive French stuff my mom orders online.

"Hi again," he murmurs with a smile.

"Hi again," I echo dumbly. My smile mirrors his, gets bigger when he pulls me closer.

"Thank you," he says. It's silly and sweet and totally right. His expression is hazy, euphoric. I don't think I've ever seen him look as amazing as he does right now.

"Hey, sure. No problem, any time," I joke, but it comes out breathless, and we both laugh softly. I reach up and touch his hair, his face. We lay together in my bed, my head resting on his bicep as I float down from the high of being together without losing the closeness, the intimacy.

"You know, this isn't exactly how I imagined it." His hand winds through my hair and he pulls my head closer to him, kissing my forehead.

"You imagined it?" I whisper into his shoulder.

He pulls back to look at my face. "Um, I've imagined it for a lot longer than I should have, when I had no business imagining." He's quiet for a moment while the weight of his words settles over me. I don't think I would have known what to do with Emmett before this point in my life. Even if Roy hadn't been a factor, I would've talked myself out of it completely, too scared of what other people would say and think. As it is, I know I haven't handled the situation as well as I could have. Or more importantly, should have.

He takes a breath and continues, "I wanted to make it special. You know? And...girls like candles and music and stuff. Something. Anything. I just wanted to make the first time that we were together special for you. More than -"

"Emmett, stop." I move my head back to make sure he can see the truth in my expression and words. "It was – it is special because it was you.And that's all I need because I love you."

And just like that, it's out there. I've said it. It wasn't planned but it was there, floating around us, present in the room without the words being said. And now I have said them; there's no taking them back.

Not that I'd want to. I'd never want to.

Because I'm learning that a lot of times, the best things in life don't rely on plans. That there's no explaining or rationalizing emotions. My life has always been planned out for me, and those plans were all I ever knew, all I relied on to get by. But this entire relationship with Emmett was been wholly unexpected. It makes sense that saying this would follow that path. And maybe that's what makes this so perfect, knowing that this is what I really want, without outside influence or expectations. I do love him, and tonight only made it bigger, more.

"Yeah?" He grins, like all this time he knew and was just waiting for me to tell him, or to realize.

"Yeah." I don't second-guess. I don't waver. I don't wonder if he'll say it back or if he feels it, too. It feels exactly like it's supposed to. I've said the words to someone else before, but they were perfunctory. "I love you." I say it again, this time with purpose, a statement with no expectation of return. I sit up suddenly, an idea blooming. "I need to get my camera."

His eyebrows raise in surprise as he watches me walk to my desk to grab the camera, a blanket wrapped around my shoulders. "Damn Hale, getting kinky? I knew you were a bad girl as soon as I got that cock text."

"There's no fooling you," I say wryly. Climbing back into the bed, I press the power button and hand him the camera. "You have longer arms than I do. Take a picture of us?" He grabs it from my hand, extending his arm. I snuggle into his side with a content sigh, looking up at the camera. The flash is sudden; it practically blinds me. " Wha- I wasn't ready, McCarty! You're supposed to count or something."

"Sorry, my finger slipped. This is what happens when you have the non-photographer take the pictures." I smack his chest and he laughs, rubbing at his pec with his free hand. "Ow, okay, fine. You ready?"

I grin up at the camera, hoping that it captures the elation I'm feeling in this moment: for the night, but mostly about him. I want to always remember this. "Ready."

"Hey, Ro?" he asks, his voice low and almost serious, but light.

"Hmm?" I turn my head toward him. His smile is brighter than the camera's light.

"I love you, too."

Flash.

The picture ends up being a little blurry and dark, slightly off-centered. But of all the pictures this camera - or any of my cameras - has taken, this is by far the best.

We talk for a while and kiss in between the talking. At one point, I wonder what Jess and Lauren are doing, but Emmett brings me back with his wandering hands and that smile, definitely those lips.

I don't pay attention to the time, content just to lay here with him, have him in my room and my bed. I see his eyes dart to the clock on my nightstand a few times, though, and finally he sighs, placing a kiss on my forehead.

"I should go."

I pull back, frowning. "What? Why? My parents aren't coming home tonight."

"You said they might not be home tonight."

"It's almost midnight. If they aren't home by now, I'm pretty sure they won't be home at all." He gives me a dubious look and I press closer, kissing his neck. I feel him sigh. "I'm ninety-nine point nine percent sure."

"See, you're using words like might and pretty sure. It doesn't exactly make me feel confident about getting out of here with my life if I stay."

I roll my eyes. "God, you are so dramatic."

"Rose," he says seriously, gripping my face between his hands. His brows are pulled low over his eyes. "Tonight was amazing and if I have anything to say about it, there will be a lot more where this came from. But I can't be with you if I'm dead. And furthermore, I don't want your parents to hate me. I haven't even met your dad yet. If the first time is when I'm in bed with his naked daughter, I think that's going to start us off on the wrong foot."

"Hmph," I grunt out. He squishes my cheeks so my lips puff out and then kisses my mouth.

"I want to stay," he murmurs, smoothing his thumbs over my skin and kissing along my cheekbone, right under my eyebrow, up to my forehead.

"But you want to live more," I sigh.

"Only because I want more time with you. A lot more." He smiles and our lips meet again, long and slow, before he pulls away. I sigh again, propping myself up on an elbow as he saunters over to my desk, picking up his pants. I resist the urge to boo him. "Hey Hale, your phone is blowing up over here."

I jump off the bed with the blanket around my shoulders and trip over my shoes in my haste to get to my purse on the desk. Now that I'm paying attention to something other than Emmett, I can plainly hear my phone vibrating in my purse, just once. It makes me wonder if it's been doing that for a while and I just haven't noticed.

My heart rate picks up as I light up the screen, and then immediately slows down. I have seven texts, but no missed calls or voicemails. Neither of my parents ever text me, so I know it's not them. They're probably partying hard with the Cullens right now, drunk and dancing like I probably would have been with my friends were it not for Emmett.

That means the texts are probably from Jess and Lauren. God only knows the choice words that are waiting for me in those texts. I don't even want to know. I'll deal with it tomorrow.

"Parents?" Emmett asks in a wary voice as I let the screen go dark and set my phone back on the desk.

"Jess and Lauren," I correct him, wandering over to my closet. I step inside and dig around for some sleep shorts. "I'm sure they're pissed that I'm not at Mike's with them right now. I'll be hearing all about that tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?"

"We're hanging out." I wiggle into a fresh pair of underwear and shorts, then pull a tank top over my head. Emmett's hoodie is hanging between a cashmere zip-up sweater and a slightly horrific designer blouse my mom bought that I've never worn but can't throw away. I smile and pull the sweatshirt from its hanger, folding myself into it. It still smells like him, just faintly along the neck. When I poke my head out of the closet, Emmett is standing in the middle of the room in his dress pants and an undershirt, his white dress shirt unbuttoned over that. "I want to tell them everything. About us, I mean. Get it all out in the open."

One side of his mouth drags up and he nods his chin as I make my way toward him. "You're coming out of the closet," he jokes.

I snort as I lean into him. His arms wrap around me, tight and comforting. "Yeah, well, it's way overdue."

"You nervous?"

"Not to tell them about you and me," I say, looking up at him so he knows that's not what this is about, not at all. "More about how they'll react when I tell them how long it's been going on."

"Do you know what you're going to say?" He asks and starts walking backwards, pulling me against his chest so that we're both propelled into motion, toward the door of my bedroom.

I nod. "I have a general idea. My guess is that I'll probably stay up for a bit, alternating between obsessing over it and thinking about you."

He lets go of me, turning to the stairs. Eric is down the hall, lying in front of my parents' bedroom. I can feel his judgment from here. "How about I call you when I get home so we can talk to sleep? I'll keep your mind off of the obsessing. Or you can practice on me so that you have a better idea."

Trailing him down the steps, I run my hand along the carving of the banister. "That sounds good. If I can't have you here all night, at least I can hear your voice."

"And dream of me," he jokes.

I nod solemnly. "And dream of you. Always."

Pressing the alarm buttons, I look over my shoulder to see him watching me. I can tell that he doesn't really want to leave any more than I want him to go, but we both know it's for the best. And he's right; if my parents do come home, the conniption they'd have would be epic. Because while they chose to turn a blind eye to what Roy and I were doing in my room with the door closed, I don't think they'd look at Emmett with quite the same attitude. Maybe with time, but not at this point.

"So, I guess I should hit the road..." he trails off, looking at me, then the door, then me again.

"Let me walk you to your car, at least," I suggest. I open the door and look back at him over my shoulder and suddenly he's there, easily picking me up in a bear hug. Squealing, I wrap my legs and arms around him. He carries me out of the house, down the steps and the path leading to the driveway, and props me on the hood of his Jeep.

"You're making it really difficult to leave, Ro," he mutters.

I press my lips against his, trying to coerce him to stay, even though I know it's selfish. My lips move to his jaw, his neck.

"I should get home and check on Gram too. And if she wakes up and I'm not home -" He stops for a second, breathing hard. "If she... what was I saying?" His hands go to my thighs, creeping up toward my shorts.

I shrug. Beats me. I'm only able to focus on his hands and his body being so incredibly close.

We're moving back, closer to being wrapped up in each other again. My legs are tangled around his waist and our lips are nearly touching when it happens.

Headlights, long and low, sweeping across us.

That alone would be easily ignored, but then the sound of car doors opening and slamming vaguely register. Voices. Both of our eyes widen in panic and while I'm sure it's not my parents (the garage door would have gone up) my mind is tripping over itself, trying to figure out who it could possibly be at this hour of the night other than them. Emmett starts backing away and I place my hands on the hood, crossing my legs so it looks like we were just having a conversation. Which we were clearly not.

I look over my shoulder, trying to casually see who's decided to swing by. The Jeep is obscuring my view of the car, but then I hear the voices more clearly, and I know before I see them that it's Lauren and Jessica. My stomach drops to my toes as they appear, power-walking up the driveway, arm in arm.

They come to a sudden halt. Cautiously, they inch forward and I watch them take in Emmett's appearance and mine, their expressions identical and clearly saying, what the fuck is going on here?

Finally they speak, in unison. "Holy shit."

Sorry for the evil cliffie, friends! You know we love you. Wonder how Jess and Lauren are going to react to this scene, hmm?

Jan, Val and JD are our first-aid kit. They fix us up when we need it and we adore them. Thanks, lovelies! And special thanks to Iris who suggested this song way back when for these two kids.

All right, so next week, you and us? We'd love to hear from you in the meantime - we're kind of everywhere with Twitter and Tumblr and Twilighted. We're don't know the meaning of playing hard to get. ;)