As always: Everything and anything related to the Twilight saga belongs to Stephenie Meyer. This is a work of fiction based on her writings. No harm is meant by it.

Special thanks and much adoration to my beta freakyhazeleyes.

Chapter Seven: Three down, Twenty-Three to go

Bella rolled out of bed around seven the next morning, picking up Edward's shirt off the floor and putting it on along with some clean underwear. She didn't sleep very well that night, but that as of late, wasn't odd. Lately, her dreams have been keeping her up at night. That night she got about three hours of sleep, tops, between all the tossing and turning. She had too much on her mind, but she couldn't even begin to tell you what was bothering her.

Yes, she could.

It was that damn dream—the same dream she had been having for about a little under a month now. It was her dancing in a royal blue gown, and it was odd because Bella can't dance, but there in her dream she was gliding across a beautiful cherry wood floor, her feet barely touching the ground as a mysterious stranger held her and waltzed along with her.

There in lied the reason she couldn't handle the dream because there in her arms was a tall, built man dressed to the nines in a tuxedo, but he didn't have a face. She couldn't tell who he was. There was one time, the second time the dream appeared that she caught a glimpse of a strong jaw, but many men had strong jaws.

The man never spoke, he didn't even breathe, he just held her tightly and danced her around, and it always ended the same way. The faceless man would bend down and kiss her—a kiss so intense that Bella would wake up and still feel it.

It made no sense to her. She didn't even own a blue dress, let alone a gown, and she didn't understand how it was even possible to kiss a man with no face, but apparently it was because she could feel the warm hands grasping her face, the soft velvet lips manipulating hers, and the smooth tongue that pervaded her mouth.

It was a kiss you felt in your toes; the one you bragged about to your friends. It was a perfect kiss, there was no other way to describe it.

Perfect.

And it was driving Bella nuts. Who was the mystery man? Why did she keep having the dream? Why didn't he have a face?

The dream had been bothering her for weeks now, and it kept popping up with fervor, and as hard as she tried to think of other things as she went to bed, the dream still appeared, and it was starting to play in her daydreams at work.

Even now as she sat sluggishly on the couch, eating cereal, and watching some infomercial about hair plugs, the dream played across her eyes like a movie.

She was brought out of her reverie by the sound of Edward's heavy footsteps.

"Morning," he groggily said, rubbing his eyes. Bella was still impressed by his ability to walk around the apartment with limited sight. If she tried to do that she would ram her knee against a table.

"Hey," Bella answered, taking another bite of the sugary concoction.

"What are you eating?" Edward asked as he took a seat next to Bella.

"Cereal."

"That's almost one hundred percent sugar, Bells. Why would you eat that?"

"I couldn't resist the little cartoon rabbit jumping around the screen. It's your fault. It is your campaign. So I eat this sugar because of you!"

"Smart ass," Edward murmured, swiping the remote away from the table and starting to flip through the channels. It was early Sunday morning; there was absolutely nothing on TV.

"Pick a channel already," Bella groaned, finishing the last of her breakfast.

"Crabby much?"

"Sorry. I just didn't sleep very well last night."

Immediately, Edward's body tensed. "What's wrong?" he asked concerned. He despised whenever Bella wouldn't sleep. It reminded him of the time after the incident with James. For weeks, she would call him at four in the morning, crying. She would describe vile nightmares to him as he tried to reassure her that it wasn't real. After a week of early morning phone calls, Edward stared sneaking into Bella's room at night, which was not an easy feat, even for someone as athletic as Edward. It involved climbing a tree with bark so torn that it always chaffed in the worst way, and a slight Spiderman-esque jump from the branch to the window sill, but for Bella he would climb the Himalayas if need be. He would hold her as she slept, and by morning, he would leave. It didn't matter to him that he lost sleep; his best friend meant the world to him. He lived for her happiness.

"Nothing like that Edward," Bella reassured him, noting the tone in his voice.

"Okay. So, what's wrong? You're never up before me," he jested, bumping his bare shoulder against hers. She was wearing his t-shirt. He had wondered why he couldn't find it on the floor.

"I keep having these weird dreams—" Bella began to say but Edward interrupted her.

"You said it wasn't about that!"

"It's not! It's just this weird, I guess good dream. I just don't understand it. I can't figure out what it means, and I keep having it. It's driving me nuts. I'm so, so tempted to ask that quack of your brother to analyze it."

Edward chuckled heartily. "I don't think that would be wise. One, because he deals with athletes, and two because he would hold it over your head as blackmail for years!"

"That's why I'm only entertaining the idea, not executing it."

"Good!"

"How are you?" Bella asked, ruefully.

"I'm great. Real good," he answered earnestly, waggling his eyebrows. "Some sexy girl had her way with me yesterday. It was mind-blowing. You could even say it was…orgasmic!"

"You're welcome," she teased, playfully, her mood suddenly lifted.

"Yeah, yeah, thank you! You just wait. I will top this, oh I will top this!" he declared.

"How, since you know, you already declared me the winner?" she questioned smugly, tilting her head to the side and licking her lips confidently.

"We'll just see about that. We'll have to watch the replay to see!"

"Whatever, there is no way you could top that. Ever!"

"Is that a challenge, Ms. Swan? Is that a formal challenge, my lady?" Edward smiled and Bella reciprocated, trying hard not to laugh.

The formal challenge, Bella chanted in her head, trying not to laugh.

The formal challenge or the TFC, as Edward had so aptly dubbed it freshman year in high school, was something that he and Emmett had conjured up during a game of basketball in their backyard. Bella had watched them play several times before hand, always cheering for Edward, but as she watched this time, she noticed that they were playing harder than they ever had. They were slamming into each other, body checking the other person, not calling fouls on the other. When Edward won, he roared, literally roared in happiness, as Emmett just sneered. It was then that the two explained the formal challenge.

Emmett had challenged Edward to a game of hoops the night before, claiming that he could "school" him in the game regardless of the fact that Edward was far more agile on the court, had better range from another line on the court, and had better dexterity with the ball.

The next week after the game consisted of Emmett doing whatever Edward asked of him, including cutting his dark curls, which did not go very well with his girlfriend of the time. One time when Bella had won the challenge, Edward walked around with an electric blue Mohawk for months; his parents were not amused.

Bella laughed as the scene replayed in her head before she spoke.

"Yes, it's a formal challenge."

Edward's eyes lit up as he practically sprinted to the room to retrieve the hat, shaking it like a maniac as he walked back into the living room, nearly tossing the thing to Bella but thinking better of it. The last thing he wanted was to waste time picking the pieces of the floor.

Bella just laughed at him as he sat down on the couch, hopping about like a kid.

"You're always so eager!"

"Any man would be eager if they were getting lucky like I was. Now take the hat so I can pick my letter and make my claim!"

Bella took the hat, shook it once more for posterity, and held it out toward Edward. He slowly stuck his hand into the wool cap, taking his time to pick out a piece. Tentatively, he pulled the paper out and turned around to read it. From the window, Bella could see his reflection and the devious smile that appeared on his face as he folded the paper back up and turned around to face him.

"What?" Bella asked, noting the devious smirk on his face, the light in his eyes.

"Oh, Bella. You should not have called for the formal challenge."

Bella's eyes widened in fear, as all the possible scenarios ran through her head.

"What's the claim, Edward?" she asked, keeping her voice cold.

"I am going to make you come, Bella, like you've never come before. You will quiver, you will shake, and you won't stop, and nor will I. I will make you feel it everywhere, from your toes to your fingertips to the roots of your hair. And if…no when I win…you will forfeit your letter for the next week," he said, his voice raspy and low.

Bella gasped, an array of emotions running through her. One was definitely excitement. The other one was skepticism, and the last was fear because ninety percent of the time, Edward won the challenge.

"You're on, Edward! But when you lose, you will forfeit your letter!"

"Deal!" he answered, confidently.

"Deal!" Bella answered, extending her hand for a shake, Edward complied like a good sport, still wearing that irritating shit-eating grin.

"I'm going to go shower!" Bella announced, standing up, fear clearly evident in her strides. Edward noticing just chuckled.

"Bella?"

"Edward?"

"Do your Kegel exercises this week!" he instructed, grinning widely. Bella raised her eyebrow, smiling along with him.

"Have you been reading my Cosmo?" she asked, teasingly.

"No!" he answered too quickly.

"Sure, Edward. It's okay if you look for tips in my magazine. It's okay. I won't tell anyone!"

"Very funny, Bella. I knew what Kegel exercises were, long before I should have. Remember my dad is a doctor!"

"He's a practitioner not a gynecologist!"

"Same shit, different toilet!"

"Eww!" she remarked, starting to walk away.

"Hey," Edward called out.

"What now?" she asked, impatiently.

"Three down, twenty-three more to go, my lady."

"Bring it on, good sir!"