A/N: So....we have a little deal to strike with you all. There are two kinds of readers (or so we figure) those who are reviewing (we know and love all of you *mwah*) and those who aren't (you know who you are...). We don't like to play favorites, we really don't so make it easier on us and give us a chance to pick from EVERYONE. lol The point is....please review. We'll build a new wing to house them all if you're worried about room...

Once again off-the-deep-end keeps this machine oiled and rolling and we love her for it!

***

I let my fingers brush along the keys of the piano, never pressing hard enough to make noise. There was a grand piano in the foyer of my house growing up. I used to climb up on the bench and slam my fingers into the keys with no regard to the real magic that it could be used for. It only happened a few times until my mother had told me, in her hung-over state, that pianos were for looking not touching. Years later I realized her manic mistake.

Now I wish I had taken the time to learn, any instrument really. But, there was never time for that. I blow my bangs out of my eyes and straighten my back. It's not really the sob story that it sounds like. I've been out of that house and out from under my mother's thumb for years, I could have learned a hundred times over, but it just seems like something I don't want to taint.

I leave the bench and move towards another piano. This room is full of them. I glance over at Angela who is speaking earnestly to the sales woman. My hand trails over the tops of the beautiful instruments as I approach them.

"These are hard times for everyone and while I applaud your cause I assure you I cannot do better on these prices," the saleswoman insists. I see Angela's creased brow and watch as she prepares her reply. I place my hand on her shoulder and smile.

"The last thing we want is for you to make a concession that will hurt your business, it's actually the opposite," I begin with a smile. The woman sighs deeply and looks to be bracing herself to repeat her mantra all over again. I smile again hopefully this time more convincingly. Each effort seems to be improving with time. I can almost convince myself at this point.

"We plan on using your services every time we need a piano and I'm sure a lot of our wealthy donators would love to know about the fantastic shop you have here when they may be looking for a piano," I offer. Her face lifts with that statement and I watch as her rigid shoulders relax slightly. She writes a number down and shows it to Angela and I. I glance over at Angela and see the relief written over her face. Meeker Elementary will get a piano after all.

I slip back into the showroom as Angela arranges the payment and delivery. There is a small family now in the room looking in awe at the pianos. I smile as the small girl lets her hand run along the sides like I had just done. She meets my gaze and I smile at her. Easier still.

Ten days. I feel like an addict counting the days of sobriety. Ten days of numbness and ten days of coming home each night to a message from him. They were pleading at first, almost heart breaking and now he just talks. He tells me about his day what he did, things that made him think of me. If I was stronger I would just delete them, but its not doing him any harm for me to listen to them. Eventually they will stop and I don't know what I'm going to do then.

"Is there a reason you couldn't have worked that magic thirty minutes ago?" Angela asks as she appears at my side. I shrug my shoulders and start walking towards the door. Angela's heels tap angrily across the floor after me. I quicken my pace and push the doors open. The streets are nearly empty; most people are working at this hour.

"Iz, come on, slow down," Angela calls after me. I slow slightly and bite the inside of my cheek. It's easier to deal with strangers these days. People who can't see the difference. It's why in the last week I have gotten more done with work than the last month combined. Angela should be thrilled. Instead she keeps looking at me with this sick sense of worry and pity in her eyes.

"I was thinking I could fit in a couple donor meetings on my way back to the office and then I was going to stop at Harvey's on my way home to make sure everything is in place for next weeks fundraiser," I ramble. Maybe I can keep her too busy with work to talk about anything else.

"Maybe you should just take the rest of the day off Iz. You've been working nonstop all week. Maybe see what Edward is up to? It is Wednesday."

And just like that all the air rushes from my lungs like she just punched me in the gut rather that just said my name. I hunch over for a moment before pulling myself together and feeling the familiar numb spread over me. I start walking even faster.

"Why go home when I can get so much done?" I mumble. Angela's hand reaches for my shoulder and slows my pace.

"Would you just tell me what happened already?" she pleads. I force my eyes shut and feel my foot tap in impatience. I haven't said the words out loud and maybe that's not a good thing. Maybe that's why I can't decide exactly what I am feeling. She has me by both shoulders now, her eyes fixed on mine.

"Cut this shit right now. I want my friend back," she demands. I chuckle a little and roll my eyes. She can be so dramatic.

"He kissed me," I blurt. Angela's hands drop to her sides and she shakes her head.

"That's it? That is what has you acting like he killed your dog and then left it on your bed?" she presses. Wow. That is quite a visual. I'm kind of glad I don't have a dog right now.

"What do you mean that's it? Ang, he kissed me, like really kissed me, and he still has Godzilla bitch at home," I add hoping she'll see the full severity of the situation. She rolls her eyes and walks away from me. Oh no. Not allowed. I jog a couple steps to catch up with her.

"I thought it was something HUGE. I mean all the moping and workaholic crap. For the love of everything holy Iz, just a kiss?" It's all coming out as a ramble now and I get the impression that she might actually be angry at me.

"It is huge Ang. We were supposed to be friends. FRIENDS. You know I wouldn't have spent so much time with someone I was…." I trail off not really knowing how to describe my admittedly shit relationship history.

"Dating? Iz, do you even know how ridiculous you sound? That if you had actually been interested in Edward you wouldn't have let him in? God you should be the subject of an after school special on commitment issues."

I stopped following her somewhere around 'actually been interested in Edward' so the last of the statement faded away with her. She looks around her for me and then stomps back towards me when she realizes I stopped. She grasps my arm in her hand and pulls me along.

"I'm not saying that him kissing you while having a girlfriend wasn't shitty, but it was not reason for all of this. Do remember why you liked spending time with him? I mean he made a mistake, but what about everything he did right?" she asks. A little slideshow of Edward flashes before my eyes and I almost want to vomit at the giddiness it induces.

"I can't Ang," I argue. She rolls her eyes and drops my arms folding her arms over her chest.

"No Iz, you WON'T. Big difference." With that she walks away, leaving me as little more than a roadblock.

***

"Hey, um, it's me again," I say into the machine. I stopped feeling stupid about carrying on conversations with her answering machine about ten phone calls ago. "I'm surprised your machine isn't full yet." I breathe out an awkward laugh. "That either means that you're listening to these or just deleting them. Hopefully the former."

I cross the street, phone in one hand and briefcase in the other. I always call her on my way home from work. Some days I call her after Hannah's gone to bed. It's the closest I can feel to her.

"I went out and got lunch for me and Violet today. We um had Mexican from this little hole in the wall. It made me think of you. Violet gets extra sour cream too but she doesn't use half as much as you do," I say and laugh again. "She asks about you all the time. You made quite an impression on her. And um… on me. I miss you." It makes no sense for me to ask her to call me back—I know she won't. "If you get a minute, give me a call, okay? Okay. Bye, Bella."

I tell her anyway. Every single time. I figure if I tell her that I still want her to call me, she'll get around to doing it eventually.

I take the stairs up the way I always do because I don't have the time or energy to exercise.

Every step up makes me feel like I'm climbing to my execution. Home has been anything but, lately. Home has been awkward and tense and filled with angry words and glares and tofu. Home has been the messages I leave on Bella's machine every day. It's the only time of day that I feel even mildly comfortable or happy.

I stand in front of the door and take a deep breath. I hope Hannah went out tonight. I really, really hope. I just want to crawl into bed and sleep. I don't want to sit across from her at the dinner table, pretending to enjoy the vegetables she ruined on her quest to learn how to sauté. I don't want to ask her how her day was. I don't want any of the awkward polite conversation that we have every single night.

I open the door and duck at the last possible second before something metal and square hits the wall next to my head. Papers and random things flutter to the ground around me.

"What the fuck are you doing, Hannah?" I ask and slam the door shut. When I look down, my stomach drops. The He-man lunch box is lying face down and open on the floor. All of its contents are scattered across the rug at my feet. All of my Bella reminders are on the floor. As if they meant absolutely nothing.

I crouch down and quickly begin to put them all back inside. The Sour Patch wrapper from FAO Schwartz. The hair tie she had slipped onto my wrist the night she took my ring. She had told me that since she had a piece of me, I should have something of hers. And she pulled the tie right out of her hair and onto my wrist.

Something hard hits my shoulder and I look up, jolted from my memories of Bella to face this angry… what is it that she called her? This Godzilla bitch. Shit. What the fuck am I doing?

"Stop throwing things at me," I tell her and shut the lunch box before I stand up.

"You have ten seconds to explain," she says and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Explain what exactly?" I ask and tuck the box under my arm protectively.

"That!" she shrieks and points at the box. "What the fuck is that?"

I look down at the He-man and then back at her. "A lunch box."

"I know it's a fucking lunch box," she says and slaps my arm with every word. "It's that fucking slut's lunch box."

I clench my teeth and count to ten. "I thought I told you to stop calling her that."

"Oh, fuck you, Edward." She grabs the box from my arm and opens it, releasing all of the contents onto the floor again before she throws the box behind her.

"Would you stop doing that?" I ask and kneel down to pick everything up again.

She gets there first though and slaps my hands away. Never have I ever felt a stronger desire to kick any woman in the head the way I want to kick her right now.

"What is this shit, Edward?" she snaps and takes a photo strip of me and Bella from the day at the zoo. She holds it up to my face and breathes heavily.

And I don't care that she's yelling at me. I don't care that she looks like she wants to kill me. Because there's Bella and her smile and her goofy ass faces and I fucking miss her so much.

"Didn't we already go over this?" I ask her lowly and snatch the picture from her. "She's my friend. Or was, anyway. But she can't deal with your fucking psychotic ass and doesn't speak to me anymore."

I take a deep breath right after the words are out of my mouth. Fuck. That was the worst possible thing to say. Fuck me. What was I thinking?

And then her hand is connecting hard with my cheek. I didn't see it coming because I wasn't looking. Because I was looking at the pictures of me and Bella. And fuck, that stings.

I put my hand on my cheek and glare at her. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I ask her and pick everything back up, cradling Bella in my arms.

"You need to get your shit together, Edward. You are not the man I fell in love with."

I shake my head. "You never fell in love with me," I tell her. "You don't even know me."

"Oh, here we go again. When are you going to grow up?" she shouts, and stands up. "Get that stupid rock star fantasy out of your head. Or do you think I don't hear you when you get out of bed in the middle of the night?"

I stare at her. "What are you talking about?"

"You think I don't hear you playing that stupid fucking guitar of yours?" she yells. "You think I don't get what this whole Izzy situation is? Grow up, Edward. Grow up. She's an immature, irresponsible child. What do you think, huh? You think she knows you? Is that what it is?"

I shake my head at her. "Fuck you."

Her eyes widen. "Oh, fuck me? Fuck me? No. Fuck you. Fuck you and that little slut, Edward." She grabs the doorknob and swings the door open. It slams hard into the wall. "Call me when you get your shit together. I can't deal with this."

And then she storms into the hallway and slams it shut behind her.

I lean against the wall and sink down to the ground with Bella in my lap. I tilt my head back and close my eyes and sigh.

Because now… well, now I just feel relieved.

***

I slam the door to my apartment and lean up against the door. I can near the hum of the TV and I for once am looking forward to spending time with Emmett and hopefully hearing nothing but his rants and anger at incompetent referees. I slip my coat off and let it slide to the floor not caring about the result. I round the living room and sink into the couch.

The TV is a flash of colors and squeaking sneakers and Emmett is leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he watches. I swear his addiction to sports has ended too many relationships. And yet he doesn't seem to care.

I take solace in the fact that he seems to be content ignoring me and that's exactly what I want from in this moment. I lean against the side of the couch and curl my feet under me. I'm tempted to turn the volume up even further to keep Angela's words from repeating in my head.

And suddenly the opposite happens. My eyes pop open as the TV is muted and I look to see Emmett looking at me. I would give anything for there to be mischief in his eyes, but it's a look I have seen all too much today. I groan and pull a pillow over my face.

"Not you to Em, please just spare me," I plead. He pulls the pillow away from my face and sets it far enough away from me that I can't grab it again. I scowl at him and train my eyes on the TV.

"What's the score?" I ask trying to distract him. He clears his throat and looks poignantly at me again.

"You know you're my all time favorite roommate, Iz," he begins.

"But…" I help him along. The faster this can end the sooner I can try another safe haven.

"This has got to stop kid. I know I give you shit about the guys, number them and all, but I won't do it any more if you will cut this out," he bargains. The offer is tempting, but to stop doing something I would have to know what I was doing first.

"Cut what out? Pretending to care about the score of the game?" I lie. I know that's not it, but I am not above trying everything I have to keep this from getting serious or, heaven help me, resembling what just went down with Angela.

"See? This is what I am talking about. Quit fucking acting like everything is ok," he demands. I cower a little back into the couch and Emmett sighs. He smiles sadly at me and raises his hands knowing that yelling is not the way to get through to me.

"Iz, I want to help, but I can't do that if you just shut me out," he breathes. I don't answer; instead motion back to the game that has come back on. He glances towards the TV and then switches it off. My mouth drops, he can't be serious.

"I get that is has something to do with Edward, but even if you want me to leave you the hell alone, I need you to say it," he states. My breathing speeds up and I flicker my eyes towards him a couple of times.

"I need to you to leave me the hell alone Em. I'm sorry," I reply. He nods.

"And?" he prompts.

"And everything is not ok." He turns the TV back on.

"That's all I needed. Let me know when you need me," he mutters. I push up from the couch and back towards the door. I pick my jacket up off the floor and slam the door once again. Apparently I am the only person who cannot talk to about this.

***

Hannah hasn't come back. I didn't expect her to. She's probably sitting around with her friends eating carrots with fat free dip and bashing the shit out of me. Something along the lines of, "Han, baby, we told you there was something off about him."

I don't care. I don't want to see her.

The music didn't help again. I tried it all. Nothing worked.

So I left. And I came here. Because maybe she's been ignoring me, maybe she's been blowing me off, but I need to see her and it needs to happen now.

I knock on the door and Emmett opens it up after a few seconds. I've seen him a couple of times in the past week. Mostly because I keep doing this and Bella is never home.

"Come in, man," he says and motions me inside. "Can I get you a beer?"

I start to say no but then I realize that I could really use one right now. "Yeah, sure, thanks."

He grabs one from the kitchen and then comes back in and sits down across from me. "What's going on?" he asks and I feel like I'm being interrogated by her father.

I clear my throat and take a long drink from the beer. "Is Bella here?"

He shakes his head. "She left a little while ago."

I feel my shoulders slump and sink back into the couch. "You sure she's not hiding in the bathtub?"

He laughs but it's not a happy laugh. "I'd send you in if that were the case," he tells me.

"She doing okay?"

"Look," he begins with a heavy sigh, "I don't know what happened between the two of you—"

"I kissed her," I hear myself blurt out. Because I needed to get it out. I needed to say it and have somebody hear it.

Emmett stares at me blankly and then nods. "I guess that makes sense."

"You guess what makes sense?" I ask and stand up and start pacing back and forth. "I apologized. It pissed her off and I apologized but now she won't fucking take any of my calls."

He rubs his head and sighs again.

I don't let him speak though. "And you know what? I get it. I get it was fucked up that I kissed her because I have a girlfriend and whatever." I feel myself unraveling now, feel all of the stress and anxiety of the past week explode from my mouth. "But what am I supposed to do? I said I was sorry and she accepted my apology. And now she won't fucking speak to me, man."

"She say anything else?" he asks quietly.

"No!" I explode. "She hasn't said shit to me. I've called her over a hundred fucking times because I just… fuck I don't know, Emmett."

I sink back into the sofa, exhausted and sick of all of this. I'm sick of fighting against something when I don't know what the fuck it is. I'm sick of missing her. I'm sick of everything.

"Aright, listen," he says and waits until I look at him. "She's gonna get pissed at me for telling you this, but I like you and… well, I don't know—things seemed like they'd be different with you. So I'm going to tell you even though I probably shouldn't."

I motion with my hand impatiently. "I won't say anything."

"Izzy has a…" he pauses to think of whatever word it is that he's looking for. "Well, she has a pretty colorful history relationship wise."

I just stare at him blankly. As if I'm supposed to know what the fuck that means.

"I just think that what probably happened was that when you kissed her, she panicked. She's not one for long-term, serious relationships, you know what I mean? It's sort of like a phobia." He stares at the wall behind my head for a minute thoughtfully. "I don't think she's actually had a relationship that's lasted for more than two months."

"What does that have to do with anything?" I ask and rub my face. I don't care about any of this shit. I mean, I care obviously, but it has nothing to do with me. Her past is her past. Shit, I'm definitely not one to judge other people on what they do or have done.

"Well, she probably freaked out. Because I think she likes you—you know, as a friend—and she has a pretty negative image of herself when it comes to relationships. Something about her destroying people. And I guess she thought that it was safe with you because you were only friends. And then you kissed her. Am I making sense?"

I nod. "So what the fuck am I supposed to do?" I ask him.

He shrugs. "How badly do you want this?"

I just stare at him for a minute before I flip my phone open. "113 phone calls in a week."

Then he laughs. And laughs. And laughs. "Then get off your ass and go find her," he says and clinks his bottle against mine. "You've got my blessing."

***

It's the best and the worst part of living in a big city, being able to get lost in a crowd. I can wander for hours and never be stopped or interrupted. I tried to go to all my familiar haunts, but there was no escape. During our friendship I had taken Edward everywhere so now when I go trying to escape him I see and hear him all around me.

At my favorite bakery everything that had cinnamon called out to me with the explanation that that's what he would have chosen. At the boat pond I could hear him cheering on all the slower boats. Even at the zoo I could hear him murmuring under his breath behind me about the smell, the germs and the general dirt.

Damn him.

I even called my mother and endured a 90 minute conversation about how she couldn't believe that her local grocery store didn't carry glutton free bread. I egged on her unfounded anger and waited for that to at least distract me, but it didn't take long for the conversation to turn to her newest conquest and that put me in place a I did not want to be.

So now I'm here. Sitting at the feet of a teddy bear that rivals Emmett in size and most likely scaring small children. There are a few employees gathered behind me debating on whether or not to ask me to leave. They're leaning towards no considering other than being slightly menacing I haven't done anything remotely threatening and they are all pretty sure I am not capable of doing anything.

I lean my head back so I can see up to the bear's face. I should probably go home. I've been MIA for hours now and I'm sure Emmett is not going to be happy with me. That's his newest trick, the overprotective big brother act. I'm sure that he'll be giving me a curfew any time now.

I reach down into the bag of sour patch kids and pop one into my mouth. I chew slowly and watch people walk by me, mostly unaware of the crazy woman sidled up to the giant teddy bear.

"You know Buzz, I think you and I could be great friends. Especially if you can keep up this no talking thing," I mutter up to the inanimate object. A couple rushes their kids by me and I smile lazily. I am beyond caring about what people may think. I just need a moment to be. To be left alone and allowed to feel whatever I want without explaining myself.

Like if I want to be angry and sad and aloof all at the same time and all about the same man, I will. Because at the root of it all I'm not sure how I feel about it. I mean partially I'm relieved that I was given an easy way out that I'll never have to endure the heartbreak of pawning Edward off on someone else to save him from me. And then I'm angry as fuck that he had to be the one person to kiss me like that and make me feel those things when he has someone else.

I swallow thickly and reach for another sour patch. All in all I am a confused girl. And yet every time someone with hair even remotely similar passes I feel my heart race and those damn butterflies try to rise from the dead. But it passes quickly because there is no chance he would be here. There is no reason for him to be. And more importantly I shouldn't want him to be. I shouldn't.

I stretch my legs out in front of me and think about leaving. I can't stay here all night as appealing as that sounds and I really would like to be in my bed right now. Bad train of thought. Instantly I can picture him on my bed his forehead creased and his hands clenched in front of him. Not good.

The plan to leave is abandoned for a moment and I lean again back into Buzz, my newest friend and let me eyes slide closed. I focus on the soft hum of the music in the background and the artificial fur behind my head. And then I hear it, so perfect I think for a second that I really have gone crazy.

"Should I feel threatened that you're hanging out with my friends without me?"

I chuckle in spite of myself. I can play along with the hallucination, it's not like the employees are going to think I am any crazier.

"I can't help it if Buzz likes me better," I reply. And then I feel a body slide down next to mine and my eyes shoot open. Hallucinations do not have body heat or the ability to touch me. Edward reaches for my sour patches and pops one into his mouth chewing silently. Serious?

"You know how hard it is to find someone without a cell phone in this city?" he asks. I duck my head and shrug.

"You found me." I answer. His eyebrow raises slightly.

"I guess I did." Silence settles between us and he reaches for another sour patch. I don't know what to say, but I don't want him to leave.

"Should I be insulted that you've ignored all my phone calls?" His voice is soft, almost a whisper, and he keeps his eyes down like he won't like the answer.

"You're asking me an awful lot of questions about how you should or shouldn't feel. Why don't you just tell me how you feel?" It was meant to sound playful, but in reality is was an open invitation to be honest. Because at this point I can't dance around anything anymore. He fiddles with his fingers before sighing heavily.

"Hurt mostly," he answers. There is a tremor to his voice and suddenly I feel like the biggest piece of shit in the world because all I ever wanted to do was protect him, keep him from getting hurt. Hell I wanted to chase that broken look in his eyes away for good and now I had gone and put it there.

"I didn't ignore your calls. I listened to every message," I offer. He raises his eyes to meet mine a small amount of hope there and I smile tiredly.

"You might've responded to one or two of them," he accuses. I feel my eyes drop in shame and him sigh in response. I chew on my lip and try to think of the best way to say this, the best way to be truthful without hurting him.

"I thought it was the right thing to do. I didn't want to get in the way of you and godz….your girlfriend anymore than I had already," I sigh. It was the truth, just not all of it. He rubs his face roughly with his hands and looks for a moment like he's going to reach for mine, but then lets his hand fall limply to his lap.

"Bella, the shit between Hannah and I was there way before I met you. It just, well, I guess it took meeting you to see it," he stutters. I feel my forehead crease. I knew that she was basically awful, but I assumed that he overlooked that, that he accepted that.

"How does meeting me change anything?" Because we were friends. And he wanted her to meet me and for us to get along. It doesn't make sense.

"Because you made me go to the zoo. And I got drunk and danced on a bar with you and you gave me your purple hair tie," he rambles. My mouth drops open slightly.

"I made you? So I'm at fault here? Is that what you're saying?" I'm trying to stay calm. I mean, fuck, we're in a toy store, but I don't need to feel any worse than I already do about all of this. I start to stand up, but his hand wraps around my wrist. He repositions and slips his fingers in between mine.

"You showed me everything that I was missing. Good things. Really good things. Things that I shouldn't live without," he states firmly. I slide back down and face him. I take a deep shaking breath. I try not to touch him. I do because even though what he is saying is wonderful it doesn't mean that anything has changed.

"I don't know what to say. What do you want me to say?" I all but beg him to tell me how to fix this. He shakes his head like he doesn't know the answer to that question.

"That you understand? That you don't hate me?" he asks. I shake my head this time.

"Understand what?" I ask. He breathes deeply and looks at me in such a way I think he's trying to tell me without words, but I am not getting it.

"And I never hated you. Ever. Not for one moment." I add. His shoulders relax slightly.

"It's like, it's like I was just in this box, this responsible, boring, beige box," he begins. He glances at me and takes a deep breath. "You know how people say sometimes, you know, about the grass being greener on the other side? But like, unless you know there's another side you can't know that you're missing anything?"

I'm trying desperately to follow his words, but all I'm getting is that he was in a box and he didn't know about the grass. I want to say something that will erase the crease in between his eyebrows, but I don't think offering to show him the grass in Central Park is going to help.

"I didn't think, I guess, that there was anything wrong with where my life was. I saw my relationship with Hannah as something that's supposed to happen as people get older, and then, you know, I kissed you. And I'm sorry that that pissed you off, but I'm not sorry that I did it because I saw it all; I figured it out finally."

With those words he looks relieved and pops in another sour patch. At this rate he is going to eat all my candy.

"I'm not supposed to eat tofu just because my girlfriend will get pissed off at me if I don't. I can skip a day of work to go to the zoo. And, well, passion isn't supposed to go away. It's not supposed to disappear just because we're older not. I kissed you Bella and realized that it's not ok to settle just because it seems safer."

I lick my lips and try to make sense out of what he is saying.

"So, you're not in the box anymore?" He shakes his head.

"I guess I'm glad that I helped you figure this all out in a way and I don't mean to sound redundant, but I'm not sure what this means. What you want me to do," I reply. Because his words were lovely and very self-proclaiming, but they didn't really tell me anything about what he wants from me or why he is sitting next to me on the floor of a toy store.

"I want you to give me a chance," he states. And wow, he just put that out there. I know I asked him to, but still. I swallow and look down at out hands still intertwined.

"A chance to do what? Be my friend again? Help you with that whole box problem you're having?" Because I want the words. I need to be sure. No more grey lines.

"Well, yeah, all of that, but I can't stop thinking about this." And just as I am going to ask him what 'this' is his lips on are mine again. I feel my mouth open in shock and he takes the chance to press his tongue tentatively to mine. I can't fight the urge to close my eyes and move my lips against his. He pulls away leaving me a little breathless.

"That's what I want most of all," he adds with a smirk. And I like the smirk and I like the kiss, but still it's not right.

"What about Hannah Edward? Does she know you're out of the box?"

And I'm hoping she's gone because as much as I want to run right now, I'm too attached to the feeling of his hand over mine. And I might let him try to hold me down. Maybe I can do this. Maybe. He clears his throat and smiles.

"I sort of, blew that box up," he grins. And I can't help but grin back. I lean forward and press my lips soundly to his, but don't let his tongue get any further. We are in a toy store for fuck's sake. So I grab my sour patches and his hand and lead him out the door.

The main goal is to think positive. Maybe if I want this and him enough it will be ok. Maybe it doesn't have to end badly. Hope fills me so fully I can ignore the doubts. And as we reach the night air together and his arm wraps around me I'm sure I can create my own box and keep my fears in there. As long as no one lets them out, we should be fine.