Hello there!

This is chapter 5 from BPOV. Enjoy!

December 21, 2010

BPOV

I stand on Pearl Street, people watching on the walking mall and smoking a cigarette as I wait for Jake. The day is grey and cold, and people march quickly between the stores as they rush to finish their holiday shopping.

I haven't purchased a single gift, opting out of the entire holiday because it is just too exhausting.

A hulking form with dark hair and a thick Carhart jacket rounds the corner. I smile and continue to puff on my cig as Jacob Black sees me and tromps on over. He stops abruptly a few inches from me. He stares down at me, and smirk up at him. I extinguish my cigarette, still just standing there in silence.

Jake looks like he is trying to be mad at me, but after a couple seconds of silence we are both grinning at each other.

"Fuck it," he says with a chuckle. "Come here."

He pulls me into his arms, lifting me off my feet, and spinning me around in a circle as he hugs me. Jake smells and feels exactly the same. We laugh together as he continues to twirls me around in the snow.

Our reunion is perfect, but I can't help but wish that Edward had been equally pleased to see me. I really am a naive bitch, for thinking it would be that easy.

"Let me look at you," Jake says as he sets me down. I fluff my long hair under my beanie and pout my lips, placing my hands on my hips to facilitate said looking. "Yeah, you don't look any different. Same old, ratty, homeless Bella."

My punch to his arm is even less effective then usual because of my thick mittens and his puffy jacket. "And you are the same old, stoner Jake. You reek of the ganja."

"I was under the impression you didn't indulge in the blessed plant any more, or I would have gladly smoke you out."

"Right you are. I trying to avoid the substances these days."

"Good for you, Bells," he says, slinging an arm around my shoulders. "So where are we dining?"

"It's not fancy or anything, but can we just go to Chipotle? I haven't had a good burrito in forever," I say, leading us west towards my favorite fast food place. He laughed at me again and let me drag him down Pearl.

It feels so good, having my best friend back. I want to just enjoy the afternoon with him, but this happiness is forced.

It's over. Edward left me this morning. And though I have no right to expect different, I hoped to at least talk to him today. I'm having a very difficult time coming to grips with the whole situation.

Jake and I settle into a booth at Chipotle, chatting about nothing as we dig in. I'm pleased that at least this relationship has not changed. Things are easy between Jake and I. There are no lingering feelings of romance on his part, and it's like I was never gone.

I stayed in touch with Jake while I was away. We didn't talk often, only a couple times a year, but I let him know where I was. That I was safe.

"God, Jake. You are such a pig," I scoff as a large glob of guacamole rolls off his chin. "It's borderline embarrassing to be seen in public with you."

"Now you sound like Leah," he says under his breath, rolling his eyes and stealing my napkin.

"Leah? Who is Leah?" I ask, my curiosity peaked at the mention of a lady. Jake is notorious for his short relationships and heart breaking ways. A total fuck em' and leave em' type. He is me, before I met Edward.

Jake smiles and then actually blushes, suddenly becoming fascinated in the smooth metal table top. I smile back because I recognize that look. Jake is in love. "Just a girl," he murmurs.

I snort.

"Just a girl my ass. You love her." I lean back in my seat and cross my arms over my chest, reveling in Jakes discomfort.

"Woah!" he yells, coving his ears and generally acting like a fucking two year old. "La. La. La. I can't hear you. You didn't use the 'L' word."

Laughing, I pull his hands off his ears because I want to hear more about this Leah person who has my best friend so frazzled.

"Tell me about her."

"She's a total bitch, Bells," Jake sighs. Though his words are harsh, his face has that dreamy look about it.

I've seen that look a thousand times on Edward's face.

This realization has a sharp pain slicing through my chest. My arms wrap tightly around my abdomen, trying to keep the hurt at bay. I wince, shifting my focus back to Jake. He is an excellent distraction, and is so wrapped up in Leah he doesn't notice my discomfort.

"She's hard. Opinionated. Makes me do stuff with her. She doesn't even let me smoke up around her!" he says, indignant.

"Sounds like she's makin' you a better person, Jakey," I say with a chuckle.

"No! I don't even really like her. I only spend so much time with her because she is great in the sack. Seriously, she's a total animal."

"Okay. Whatever you want to tell yourself. But you like her. A lot. It's written all over your big, ugly face."

Jake looks at me in horror.

"You're totally in denial. Believe me, I've been there. It's really scary, letting someone in like that. Feeling so much for someone else." I'm surprised to hear how sad my voice sounds.

"I was wondering when we were going to get to Edward," Jake says, looking equally distraught.

"We don't need to talk about Edward," I say quickly.

"Yeah, we really do," Jake insists, his eyes narrowing at me. "He's my friend, Bella."

"I know." When I left, Jake and Edward were cordial, but I would never have thought in a million years that they would ever be as close as they apparently are now. It's strange, because they once loathed each other.

"You really fucked him up when you left," Jake continues.

His words have the tears pooling in my eyes again, and I looking down in my lap. It's a struggle to keep it together, but there is no way I'm going to fucking cry in public. Fuck no. I'm barely comfortable with that much emotion in the privacy of my own home.

"I know that too," I reply.

As much as it kills me to admit, I recognize the truth of Jake's words. Edward loved me. And I totally disregarded that gift when I left.

"You slept with him last night?" Jake accuses. For once his anger doesn't come from jealousy, but for a desire to protect Edward. From me. This conversation is becoming surreal. Jake is protecting Edward from me.

Every time I think I fully understand the enormity of my decision to leave, something happens to totally knock me on my ass again.

"Yes. It just sort of happened," I admit, my cheeks flaming.

I shouldn't have shamelessly seduced him. I know this. But seeing him again made my brain go wonky. Verbalizing how I feel has never been my strong suit. I've never had to vocally communicate what I feel to Edward. He always just knows. I didn't think last night was any different until I woke up alone in his bed this morning.

"You can't fuck him around anymore, Bella," Jake scolds, glaing at me.

I'm the cowering dog with my ears back, kowtowing submissively after pissing on the living room floor.

I'm the little kid whose old enough to know better, but took a sharpie to white walls anyway.

Jake is totally right and I am an asshole.

"He imploded after you left," Jake continues. He's making me feel like shit and I welcome it because I deserve everything he's throwing at me. " He totally isolated himself, focused completely on fucking school shit. He was like a goddamn robot. Things got better when he moved to Denver for grad school and he me Ti— he met people. But gone is glass half full Edward."

I let out an involuntary whimper and consider on getting back on a goddamn bus. With my one unselfish act towards Edward, I managed to ruin what I love best about him.

"You left him with no explanation. He loved you and you left."

"Loved?" I squeak, looking up at Jake's stony expression. "As in the passed tense?"

"I honestly don't know, Bella," he sighs, his face softening slightly. "You'd have to talk to him about that. But I do know that he hasn't dated, despite ample opportunity."

I had no right to get mad at the words "ample opportunity", but my temper bubbles.

Also, when the fuck did Jake start using such big words? Probably when he started hanging out with Edward.

"I wasn't planning on fucking him the moment I saw him," I defend. "Fucking" didn't seem to cover it, but I couldn't bring myself to call it anything else. "I intended to talk to him first. And then I figured we would just talk in the morning. But that didn't pan out as I planned either."

"What do you mean?" he asks, looking puzzled.

"Edward wasn't there when I woke up at like seven this morning," I say, trying and failing to sound blasé. "He left before we could talk."

Jake looks at me with sympathy and I almost lose it. Sighing heavily, he rises and slides into the booth next to me. His arms around me and I bury my face in his chest. Tears ooze out of the corners of my closed eyes, but I somehow manage to keep my shit on lock.

After a few moments, I pull away and Jake gets serious again.

"You can't get back into his life if you aren't in it for the long fucking haul. You can't fucking jerk him around any more. You have to be committed, serious."

I nod, once again recognizing the truth in his words. Jake is being shockingly wise.

"Are. You. Serious." he demands, looking me dead in the eye.

"Yes," I say, proud of myself for my lack of hesitation. "I'm serious. I need him. I want him."

Jake grins, leaning back in the hard wooden booth.

"Then fucking fight for him. For once."

Jake's word motivate me to get in my truck in a snowstorm and drive to Edward's apartment in Denver.

Old habits die hard, I suppose because I feel the need to act aloof, unconcerned. Edward is not happy to see me, not that I thought he would considering his abrupt departure this morning. I ignore his stunned silence as my heart blooms with joy at the sight of my kitty cat.

Though I've missed poor Waldo like crazy, right now he serves as a shield against Edward. I gather strength from his warm, puring body.

Our talk doesn't go exactly as planned. As usual I fuck it up. Edward isn't the same boy I left, and I worry he's right when he tells me I don't know him anymore. I'm not able to offer him anything real. Why should he want me back?

He wants me to leave, but I make it clear that I'm not giving up on us. My words reflect a self assurance I do not fucking feel. As I pull on my boots, I lose all hope. My hands shake and I struggle not to cry as I imagine my future without Edward.

It's fucking bleak.

But then he slams his hand against the door, trapping me in the apartment and turning me on at the same fucking time.

That last fact is probably shameful, but I can't help it. I've always been hopelessly addicted to Edward sex, and it's especially hot when he takes control.

And then he doesn't let me leave.

My outward reaction is indignant because he is being so damn bossy, but internally I'm thrilled. He doesn't want me to kill myself, driving the truck home in the snow. He cares enough for me still to force me to stay.

With his words, the hope is back, and I try to hold onto it as the minutes tick by. I'm in Ben's bed, freezing despite the warm Waldo provides curled against my back. My eyes won't stay shut, and my brain won't turn off.

Every second is a struggle to stay the fuck where I am. All I want to do is go to Edward. I want him to pull me into his arms, and I want his finger to press into the little dip next to my hip bone he loves so much.

I don't want him to regret letting me stay here. He left this morning and obviously doesn't want to be around me, so I will stay put.

It's just so damn hard, knowing that he is right on the other side of the wall.

As the hours pass, I get colder and needier while the resisting the urge to go to Edward gets hard. I go a little crazy.

At four AM, I give up.

It's shamefully really, my need to be near him. It has me on my feet and sneaking through his fuck all cold apartment. I promise not to touch him, knowing that his proximity will be enough to keep me from totally losing my mind. But it's even better then I imagined, because he pulls me into his arms, and his long fingers find my hip.

Now it's a fight to stay awake. I don't want to close my eyes because I don't want to miss a second I spend touching Edward. Despite the resurgence of my hope, I'm keenly aware that each touch might very well be our last.

October 14, 2004

BPOV

I keep my eyes on my computer screen so I won't have to watch him walk away. I have watched far too many people in my life walk away, and Edward will be no different. The key is not caring so I will survive when he is gone.

He's rapidly becoming way too important, and I'm rapidly becoming way too dependent.

Oh, how I hate him. Why won't he just take a fucking hint and leave me the fuck alone? Why don't I make good on my threats to banish him from my life? I tell myself that it's because he is the sole reason I am passing bio (that motherfucker is smart as fuck), and that come next semester, I will avoid him, but that future is growing more doubtful.

It's terrifying, how much I crave his presence.

I really cannot drink when he is around in the future. Drunk Bella means horny Bella, and while sober Bella can ignore the sexual tension that crackles between us, drunk Bella is powerless to resist.

When I find him, in my fucking secret library spot of all places, I am already having a shit night. Jake is being a butthead and asking me a million questions about my most recent dinner with Renee. He doesn't believe me when I say I'm fine. He is right, of course, but it's still annoying as shit. I have no plans to discuss Renee's desperate attempts to show Phil what a perfect little child she raised, and I never plan too. The woman is a lunatic,, and if her current husband wasn't footing my bill for tuition, I would tell her to kiss my ass.

Someday, somehow, I will pay them back. I'm indebted to them, and that's just unacceptable. I hate the position I'm in, but really I have no other choice.

Plus, I have writers block. Due tomorrow is a ten page, romantic short story, and I have no clue where to even begin. I don't do romance. I don't dream of getting married to prince charming or swoon when parted lovers reunited in chick flicks. Roses bore me, as do balloons, candy, and other stereotypical date shit. I thoroughly plan on never having a significant other. I don't need or want anyone to grow old with.

I am characterless and plot-less and freaking out about failing out of college two months in.

The most annoying thing about this fucking romantic epic is that I keep seeing green eyes and bronze hair.

So of course, when I leave Jake's to write this beast, I run into Edward mother fuck him Cullen.

We sit only a few feel apart, but the air around us is charged. Well, more charged than usual. Maybe it's the whiskey or maybe it's the pot, but the urge to touch Edward is overwhelming. I die a slow death while he studies away, happy as a motherfucking worker bee.

He doesn't let me bully him into getting drunk, and it secretly pleases me. Edward is a good person, and I'm glad he isn't letting me drag him down with my booze and my crazy and the needs of my vagina.

If I liked Edward less, I would have fucked him long ago. He may have even gotten a rare, but coveted, repeat performance.

I don't know what the hell I'm thinking when I sit myself down on his lap. I'm a horrible person, leading him on like this. I know I'm sending mixed messages, telling him to back off and then getting all up on him, but I can't help it. Edward does things to me that I don't understand, and I want the madness to stop.

As I steadily get drunker, I neglect my short story to watch avidly as he studies. I want nothing more than to fuck him right there in the library. He is so adorable, so focused on his homework. Leaning over the science book with his elbows on the table and his head supported by his hands, Edward's lips move along as he reads. It's shockingly sexy, and I want to feel his lips move against my skin. Everywhere.

As I sit there fanaticizing about Edward's lips, I decide that he will be my male character. He's the closest thing I've had to romance ever, and I will write a fictionalized version of us, if I had ever been willing to go out with him, that is. That means I'll have to write some version of myself as the woman, and this makes me excessively uncomfortable. Writing is the scariest thing I do because I put so much of myself into it. I don't like to be weak, and I don't like to be vulnerable and I don't like to be wrong, but good writing required all three.

I need to understand him better.

Drunk Bella and writer Bella and horny Bella combine forces, shamelessly grinding their lady bits onto Edward's very apparently aroused man meat. Drunk/writer/horny Bella almost kisses him until some sense is slapped into them by the ringing of Edward's cell phone.

But I accomplish my mission. I understand him a little better. He thinks so much better of me then what is true, and story Edward is going to pay for that mistaken judgment.

The whole encounter is incredibly unsettling, and if he starts with the ask-Bella-out-every-two-seconds routine again I will flip shit. He always looks so disappointed when I say no. Does the kid like rejection? I mean shit, my answer isn't going to change.

After he leaves, I briefly consider making my character a gay man, but that adds a whole extra layer of complexity that I am not sober enough to tackle.

It only takes me a little over an hour to write my story after Edward leaves. I keep my characters nameless, weaving them into a grey, mystical setting that could be anywhere.

My two star-crossed lovers are on their first, generic date. They like each other, a lot, and are nervous. He awkwardly tries to be a gentleman, she has a problem not saying every little thing that crosses her mind, but they connect. As they leave the restaurant, headed back to his apartment, the female envisions the possible outcomes for their future.

In one, he realizes who she really is and leaves her alone and destroyed.

In another, she does the leaving, unable to handle his commitment and positive view of her character.

Only briefly does the woman consider happily ever after, but the hope is there and that is dangerous. I leave it open ended, letting the readers decide for themselves the fate of my two lovers.

After I close my laptop, I am horribly depressed and pissed off. I want Edward. I want to watch his lips silently read along as he absorbed the words in a book. I want to simply be in the same room as him. I want to fuck him silly, and I want to not what him.

I truly hate him for fucking with my emotional stability. I truly hated me for letting him. I truly hate Renee. For good measure.

Angry at the world in general, I tromp off to Jake's; thankful for once that he is throwing a ragger. Jake is always hosting crazy parties these days, so I see less of him. I can't get thrashed nightly like I could once upon a time. I have classes to attend and studying to do and it all actually matters.

"BELLA!" A cheer goes up form the living room when I enter. It's packed with people, but I am pleased that many of the guys are here. Embry, Quil, and Jake all rush me, bouncing me around in between their bodies like a motherfucking pin ball as I grumble in protest.

"What are you doing here, Bells?" Jake asks, giving me a big Jake bear hug. I close my eyes and try to relax, but it isn't working.

"Finished my story earlier then expect, and I need to get drunk. Well, drunker," I say, grinning like an idiot when Jake magics a bottle of tequila out from behind his back. I snatch it from his grasp before plunking down on the couch, stealing Jake's spot.

"Is this cashed?" I inquire, gesturing towards the large bong on the coffee table after taking a long swig of tequila.

"Nope," Jake says, handing me his liter as he evicts the stranger next to me. I hit it twice before passing it back to Jake. He always has the best weed. A perk of being a small time drug dealer, I suppose. I close my eyes and let the pot and alcohol hit my system. Though I feel good, it does nothing to calm me down. I really need to get laid. It's the only way to relax after Edward has me all wound up. I lazily scan the room for prospects, my eyes lingering on Sam Uley. He is a couple years my senior, and I've known him forever. We hooked up a few times over the summer, and he makes weird noises, but will do.

"Just to let you know," Jake says, slinging an arm around my shoulder. "Sam's dating this new girl. He brought her tonight and apparently, he's really into her."

"Fuck," I say, frowning. I will actually have to make some effort then. "In that case, I'm going to go a lap."

"Good luck," Jake chuckles as I rise from the couch.

"Likewise, brother," I reply, giving him an enthusiastic salute as I set off on my mission. The house is packed and I'm really not very picky. I'm trying to be better, as per my college Bella declaration, but tonight I just don't care. I crave the escape and the mindlessness of some good, anonymous sex.

An hour later, the tall, dark, and handsome Jared asks me to be his beer pong partner. And though I am well on my way to hamcaked, I agree because Jared is cute, even if his hair is all wrong and his eyes are too dark. As we play, he touches me, shoulders, arms, lower back. And I touch his back. By the time we lose horribly, everything Edward makes me feel evaporats, lost in the haze of pot and tequila and Jason's hand in mine.

Or is it John? Jeremy maybe?

I can't remember his name, but by the time he pulls me out the front door, I don't care. We make out like crazy on Jake's front porch, groping each other as we move down the street. He only lives a few blocks away, and I need this feeling so badly.

I wasn't planning on envisioning Edward, but I do at first. I imagine that it is Edward kissing me, that it is Edward tugging on my clothes and throwing me on the bed.

But then Jackson rolls on the condom and pounds into me with very little foreplay, effectively ruining the fantasy. Edward would never treat me like that. Edward would put my needs first. Edward would take pleasure from giving me pleasure.

And I him.

Not once does Jonah put his lips on my skin when we reach the bedroom.

It's fast, jarring, jackhammer sex, and I don't even bother to fake it. I am grateful that he falls asleep the moment he rolls off me. Scooting as far away from his body as I can get, I kept my eyes trained on the window.

Nothing about the night goes as planned, and I struggle not to cry as Jordan snores beside me. I don't understand why I feel so vile and depressed. Normally, nights like this make me feel better. Just for the night, I am free. But instead of finding a little peace, I feel lower then I have in years. Something changed fundamentally while I wasn't paying attention, and I really don't like change.

When the first signs of sun peak across the eastern plains, I silently slip out of bed and got dressed. In the pale morning light, I walk slowly back to my dorm, trying to get my head around my night. I am so tired. Not, missed-a-night-need-to-catch-up tired, but weary down to my bones. I don't know how long I can go on like this, but don't see any other options.

Around six, I collapse into my bed and sleep for a solid 3 hours.

When I open my door to go to biology the next morning, Edward is waiting with a hot tea in one hand and three Advil in the other.

I want to hug him and thank him and cry all over him, but instead I punch him in the arm and call him a pretty boy.

So comments? Concerns?