All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the author. Plagiarism is theft. No copying or reproduction of this work in any language is permitted without the express written authorization of the author. Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. Thank you. March 2010.

Thanks as ever to my extremely talented beta, xrxdanixrx-who's also provided awesome banner on Twilighted! You are amazing!

Thanks to all those reading, reviewing, and recommending. I'm glad you're enjoyed Towelward! As ever, let me know what you think.

Let's check in with Bella shall we…

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Chapter 11

BPOV

Fucking Alice and her master plan to come and confront Edward, and quote 'mess with his head,' has left me embarrassed beyond belief, and probably with a massive bruise on my hip where I impacted with his hardwood floor in the least graceful exit attempt ever. But then, Edward is actually genuinely concerned. At least, I think he is, but that could all just be part of his act.

My heart is still beating a mile a minute as he lifts the prosthetic from my hands, as if it's something delicate that belongs in museum. He turns it over, his brow furrows as he examines it closely. This is new territory for me. The only people who have touched my prosthetic this much are Jake, my surgeon, and Renee. His touch is delicate as he brushes his long fingers over it, almost reverently.

"It's beautiful, Bella," he whispers. He looks over at me, his eyes wide before going back to his in-depth inspection.

No one has ever called my artificial limb beautiful before and I'm not sure if I should be flattered or slightly offended. I choose the former, because right now, I can't exactly get up and stomp out on him without a tremendous amount of difficulty.

So, I'm left to sit here, on his expensive Italian leather couch, and watch his fingers as they caress the silicone, gliding down the front of the leg and then back up the calf. "It's so real," he marvels.

"Sometimes, I wish it was," I say, staring up at him. His eyes dart back to me and he looks anxious.

No! Don't be anxious.

Despite everything, I don't want him to freak out on me right now.

"I'm sorry, you probably want this back, huh?" he asks. He lifts the leg back to me gently and I take it from him, adjusting the shoe before slipping it back on.

"Is that the only one you have?" he asks as he gets up to retrieve the towel, which landed beside me on the floor. No one has ever asked me this before. No man has ever stuck around long enough to ask or find out the answer. Ok, if I'm being honest, I haven't exactly let anyone stay around long enough, either.

I feel light headed as I watch him return to the couch and sit beside me, handing me the towel. I think the towel is for my rain soaked hair, but right now, I could care less about it.

"I have four different ones. I have one when I want to wear these heels." I flex my real leg out and twist my ankle, showing him the pumps that Alice and Rose made me buy. He stares at my leg and bites down on his lip before looking back at me. "I have another one for casual shoes, one for swimming and showering, and another for running. They're also in the process of making me one for skiing."

"Skiing?" he asks. He looks at me warily, and I squeeze some excess rain from my hair into the towel.

"Yeah. Emmett wants us to go back to Revelstoke next January. It'll be six years since the accident." Jesus, his stare is distracting. He appears enthralled by what I'm saying, and I feel my face flush. I wonder how long it's taken him to perfect the stare. How many women he's used it on. I'm certain someone as hot as Edward has had a lot of women. I scowl at the meager number of inexperienced men I've had the unfortunate luck to sleep with before the accident.

"Is that…I mean, do you really want to go back there?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

"Yeah, I do. I haven't been back since it happened. Emmett says it'll be good to kick the mountain in the ass, and I enjoy a challenge."

He chuckles and runs his fingers through his hair. "That sounds like Emmett, and like you," he says softly.

"I'm sorry about invading your studio, Edward. I didn't realize. I wasn't thinking. Your work is really very good. Well, what I saw of it anyway." I twist my fingers nervously in my lap and stare up at him.

I try to remember Alice and her grand plan…that I'm supposed to mix up the signals, play it cool, come on to him, and then act as if I could give a damn before I confront him about the whole Lauren situation. She used so many different descriptions, but right now, I don't really care about Alice. I feel horrible about what happened in the studio.

"It's ok. I'm a bit of a freak about my work. It's one of my many flaws. I'm sorry I made you fall," he says quietly. He stares down at me, all intense and entrancing, and I find it really hard to remember why I was so pissed off at him less than ten minutes ago.

"Well, I should probably go. Do you want to pick a time for the painting? I'm sure you want to get it over with, if you even still want to do it," I say, looking up at him.

"Of course I still want to do it, Bella." I'm actually relieved to hear him say it. I push myself up and he rises off the couch with me, placing his hand under my elbow.

"I'm ok, Edward. You don't need to help me," I say sourly. He drops his hand from me and looks hurt. "I'm sorry, I know I'm being a bitch. Accepting help isn't something I do well."

He laughs quietly. "Really? I hadn't noticed," he says sarcastically.

I smile. Despite everything that's happened, he's treating me like a normal person. Not trying to sugar coat anything. Calling me out when I clearly deserve it. "So, what works then for the painting?" I ask.

"Hmm." He strokes his chin with his long index finger. "Are you free on Sunday?" he asks, staring down at me with a blistering gaze. Sunday? Oh of course, he would have to pick the day I have plans.

"Actually, Sunday is a little busy." His face falls. "With Rose and Emmett," I clarify, though why I feel the need to, I'm not really sure. "We do dinner once a week with friends of ours." He nods and shifts beside me and looks nervous. What? Nervous? I don't think Edward Cullen has been nervous a day in his life. And then Alice's master plan comes back to me and I take a step towards him.

"Maybe you'd like to join us? You can meet Alice. She wants to interview you for a story about the auction."

"I don't do interviews, Bella," he says firmly, turning from me and walking into the kitchen. And Mr. I'm-Better-Than-Anyone-Else-Because-I'm-A-Moody-Artist is back in full force.

"What does that even mean? Alice works for Vancouver Magazine. They have a ton of readers. This could be good publicity for you," I explain, following him into the kitchen. Ow! Shit, my hip hurts. I can only imagine the bruise I'm going to have later today. I falter slightly and then steady myself as he makes his way to the refrigerator.

"I don't need publicity, Bella. My work speaks for itself," he says. Oh, he's so full of himself. He pulls open the refrigerator and stares into it blankly.

"No one will know about your work if you don't tell them it's coming, Edward," I say, narrowing my eyes at him.

He stares back at me, waging some internal debate it seems. "This Alice…is she a good journalist?" he asks, closing the door to the fridge and leaning on the counter towards me.

"She's very good."

"I don't want anything tacky," he says forcefully.

"It's an upscale arts and entertainment magazine, Edward, not the National Enquirer." I cock my head to the side and stare up at him. "Are you afraid of a little interview?"

"I'm not afraid of anything, Bella," he says definitively.

"Well, I guess you won't mind joining us on Sunday then. Dinner's at my place this week. You do remember where that is?"

He smirks at me and quirks an eyebrow. "Yes, I remember," he says dryly. He stares back at me and his expression shifts. "I need to explain about last night, Bella." Oh, Alice won't be happy about this. This kills the entire plan. I'm supposed to be in control here. I'm supposed to be the one dragging some sort of confession out of him. But, right now as he shifts nervously, and looks so vulnerable, I decide that Alice and her plan are just going to have to wait.

"So, explain," I say flatly as I feel the crack in the wall open a bit more.

His eyes widen. He leans back slightly, looking at me warily and then the words come, spilling out. "The guy you saw last night, whatever you think of him, it's not me. I'm lost, Bella. I don't even know who I am anymore. The only thing I know for sure is that I don't want to be that guy. You make me want to be someone else, someone better than that. Last night, with Lauren, I know that was wrong, and it's not why I went there. I went to see you. I had to see you. And then she came out of the office and she was all over me, pushing me against the wall, and I know I should have done more to stop her. I could have stopped her and I didn't. I know it was wrong. I made a mistake. You're allowed to make a mistake, right? Please, Bella. I need you to believe in me." His voice is barely audible as he brings his rambling to an end, and stares back at me hopefully.

I'm struck by his words. I want to understand why he's lost, what's happened to him to make him this way, why he needs me of all people to believe in him. Why does it matter what I think?

"You need to apologize to Lauren," I say powerfully.

"I know that," he says softly, his eyes searching mine.

"Will you do the article for Alice?" I ask, staring back at him.

"I'll think about it, ok?"

I nod my head. "Edward, if you're really not that guy, you need to start acting like it. Letting women go to their knees outside the office building and then leaving them there, isn't the way to do that." He runs his fingers through his hair. "Dinner is at seven on Sunday. We can figure out when you can fit me into your hectic painting schedule then." I turn and head for the door, with him following closely.

"Can I bring anything to dinner?" he asks as he holds the door open, leaning against it.

"Just you," I say, smiling up at him and leaving him open mouthed at the door. I smile to myself as I take the drive to work. I had come to Edward's this morning fully intending on laying into him, and now, I find myself driving away even more intrigued by the man.

I think about what I saw of Edward's work. I guess I don't know what I was expecting. It's definitely modern and seems so passionate and anxious, the colours bold and vibrant. I don't know much about art, but I'm fascinated by the emotion that I can see there.

What's even more fascinating is that he didn't seem revolted by my leg. I've had guys who literally have turned and run the other way as fast as their legs could carry them once they find out about it. But he seemed mesmerized and even more alarming, I wanted him to be. For the first time since this happened, I actually want a man to at least try to understand this.

As I pull in to get Rose's latte, I feel something I haven't felt in a really long time. I feel hope, and I wonder if these miniscule baby steps mean as much for him as they do for me.

xxxxxx

Lauren can't even look at me when I arrive for work.

"Good morning, Lauren," I say, cocking my head towards her.

"Bella, about last night…I…I don't really know what to say," she whispers, keeping her eyes locked to the desk in front of her.

"You don't have to say anything, Lauren. It's none of my business."

"I'm just so embarrassed. I mean, he's…he's just so…" I feel sick to my stomach now, because Lauren clearly likes him. Of course she does. I roll my eyes.

"Seriously, Lauren, let's just forget about it, ok?"

She nods her head and I eye the vase of flowers for a moment. They've started to wilt a bit since they arrived.

"It's going to be hard to forget about, Bella. I mean, we kind of went at it in the stairwell for God's sake," she whispers, darting her eyes to the stairwell door. My heart stops beating.

"What?" I feel the colour drain from my face. I cannot believe what I'm hearing.

She nods her head at me. "He brought me over to the stairs…" she points to the door "…and well, you know. Orgasm and everything," she says her eyes wide.

I'm rendered speechless for a moment as I try to digest what she's telling me. Edward, who less than a half an hour ago, claimed he needed me to believe in him, has fucked Lauren in the stairwell. "Well, I can see why that would be hard to forget," I say resentfully. Fuck, I'm an idiot. I take the vase of flowers from her desk.

"I'm thinking about asking him to the auction. Do you think he'd go with me?" she asks, looking hopeful.

"I don't know, if you give him that blow job I interrupted last night, then probably." She stares at me and her mouth drops open. "I think I'm going to take the flowers after all, Lauren," I say as I move quickly to my office.

I place the flowers on the desk and Rose's latte beside them as I search out my scissors. I know that right now, I'm being extremely childish, but this is the last fucking straw. I feel like a fool. Tears stain my cheeks and hope fades, as I take the hyacinths out of the vase and cut them into bits.

I find a small packing box from the last office supply delivery and throw the cut up flowers in. I print out an address label to Edward's loft and stick it on the box. Just before taping it up, inspiration hits as I remember his little comment about what the flowers meant, and I write him a note.

Did you know that cut up purple hyacinths mean, you're an asshole?

I stick the note on top of the flowers and tape up the box feverishly. I take the box to reception and hand it to Lauren, asking her to send it by the fastest method possible. Her eyes grow wide as she reads the address label.

"What are you sending Edward?" she asks, looking up at me.

"What he deserves," I seethe and turn to make my way back to my office.

xxxxxx

"This latte is cold," Rose says, smirking at me from her chair.

"There's a microwave in the kitchen. I'm sure you can heat it up," I bark at her.

"What the hell has gotten into you today?" she asks, studying me closely.

"You don't want to know." I scowl at her.

"No, actually, I think I do, Bella. Spill it."

So, I tell her…everything. About last night, about Alice's master plan, about Lauren and the fact that she's not the only one apparently turned on by sexual acts in public places. Most importantly, I tell her about my conversation with Edward this morning. She just stares at me, her expression unreadable until I finish. And then, she starts laughing.

"I don't really see what's so funny about all of this, Rose. Seriously, the guy's completely messed up," I say vehemently.

"You've got it bad, my friend," she says.

"I do not, Rose." She narrows her eyes at me. "OK, so maybe I did like him, but that was before I found out about Lauren's little stairway to heaven."

"So, what?" Rose says.

"So what? Seriously? You expect me to be ok with this, Rose? He was asking me out, and then he's fucking Lauren in the stairwell? Come on!"

"First of all, we don't actually know if they were fucking as you so eloquently put it. Maybe you should find that out before you throw the guy to the wolves. Second of all, ask yourself this question, Bella. If you really don't give a shit about Edward Cullen, why are you so bothered about this?" She smiles at me knowingly.

"I have reporting to do," I mutter as I get up to leave her office.

"Uh huh. Yeah, go and hide behind your numbers, Bella. Let me know when you're ready to really talk about this again," she calls to me as I close her door.

I make my way back to my office, knowing she's right. Of course Rose is right. Her ability to point out the painfully obvious when no one else will, is one of the reasons I love her so much.

I sit back in my chair, open up my internet browser and type in his name. I click on the news article I found yesterday and stare at his picture. Did he and Lauren actually have sex in the stairwell? Am I willing to listen to whatever lame explanation he hands me? Yeah, everyone makes mistakes; God knows I've made more than my fair share. But, is this just a mistake, or is this actually who Edward really is? As I think about what he said today, I'm honestly not sure what to believe.

Part of me just wants to walk away. That's what I always do, and it would certainly make things a whole hell of a lot easier. But, then there's part of me who saw a different Edward this morning. Someone who was caring and vulnerable, who said he's lost. That's the Edward I want to know, the one I hope he is.

I'm fully aware that my slightly psycho move with the flowers this morning may make any ideas of getting to know Edward moot. I can only imagine what he's going to think when he gets this particular delivery.

My thoughts are interrupted as my cell phone rings. I look at the caller ID before answering. "Hey, Alice."

"How did this morning go? Did you go to Edward's?" she asks excitedly.

"It was interesting, to say the least, Alice." I get up to look out the window as my thigh complains again. I'm sure this bruise is going to be massive.

"What happened?" She sighs. And so, I rehash the entire thing yet again for Alice, who strangely enough has the same reaction Rose did. She laughs at me for a moment, and then unleashes her version of pissed off on me.

"I really wish you hadn't sent back the flowers, Bella. You just got him talking and now who knows what he's going to do. This is going to make this infinitely harder," she says forcefully.

"He deserved it, Alice. Who does that with some random girl in a stairwell?"

"Are you upset that he did it, or that it wasn't you?" she asks. Fuck, when did my best friends suddenly all get their psychology degrees? I move back to my chair and sit down.

"Whose side are you on, anyway? And it doesn't really matter. I sent the flowers, it's done now. There's nothing we can do about it," I say, staring at his picture on my computer screen. "Oh, I invited him to dinner on Sunday. Though, I'm not sure he's going to come after this."

"That's perfect! Jazz can take pictures for the article." She sounds giddy at the thought.

"If he shows up," I mutter.

"You need to make him show up, Bella. The magazine is really hoping for an interview. Once I told my editor that he was donating something for the auction, he wants a full spread done." Oh, fantastic. Like I need extra pressure.

"I'll see what I can do, Alice."

"Oh, remember, we're going to the vintage store on Saturday. They want another article for the magazine," she sings, switching gears completely.

"I remember." I try to sound excited, like I was when she first told Rose and I we were going to check out vintage dresses for the auction. The auction… which I have yet to find a date for. Ok, I haven't exactly tried and the way I feel right now, I'd like to bail on the whole thing, but I know that's impossible.

"OK, see you guys tomorrow!" Alice chirps.

"Bye, Alice." I hang up and stare back at his perfect face on computer screen, wondering why my life just keeps getting more and more complicated.

For the rest of the morning, I try to distract myself with cataloguing the items for the auction. I venture down to the cafeteria at lunch where Rose is engaged in conversation with Mike.

His face lights up when he sees me. Rose turns to me and gets that look, the one where I know she's been up to no good.

"Hey, Bella! I'm going to join you guys tonight at The Den," Mike says, looking as if he just won the lottery or something.

"We're going to The Den?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at Rose.

"Yeah, all of us are going. They have a new DJ. It'll be fun," she says, smiling widely at me.

"If this is your idea to get me dancing…" I warn her.

"No. I'm well aware of your views on dancing, Bella," Rose says, shaking her head at me. "We should be there around nine-thirty or so, Mike."

He flashes his eyes at me. "Sounds great! I'll see you guys there. I've got a mean Greek salad calling your name back here, Bella," he says eagerly.

I nod my head at him. "Sounds good, Mike. I'll take it." He disappears into the back and Rose smiles at me.

"I don't know what you've got up your sleeve, Rose." I start and she waves her hand dismissively at me.

"Why are you so paranoid? We're going out, so is he, end of story," she says.

Mike reappears with the salad and I pay for it quickly. "See you guys tonight," he says excitedly as we make our way back to the elevator.

"Not taking the stairs?" Rose asks, pushing the button for the elevator.

"Let's just say I'm steering clear of the stairwell for a while. I'm fairly certain I'll lose my appetite if I go up them today," I mutter.

She smirks at me and leans into my shoulder. "I'm glad he's at least got you thinking," she says.

"Me too, Rose. Me too."

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