DISCLAIMER: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder of the words, plot and lackluster formatting belong to me. Please do not repost the story without authorization.

A big thank you to LightStarDusting and Scorp112, my betas, without whom you might end up reading poorly punctuated, improperly worded, under-explained rubbish.

I have a favor to ask. Yes, me, a favor. I wrote another story called Out Of Choices. I know some of you have read it. It's old and completed. It was my first multi-chapter story. I wrote it without a beta and went too far with the vocabulary and not far enough with the punctuation. Even so, it's a story that's very near and dear to my heart. It needs only a single review to get to 2K. I so want to see it hit that mark. If anyone is interested in reading a Vampward and Angryella story, please give it a whirl and make this thankful author's almost-fulfilled dream a reality.

Thank you to everyone who is reading and reviewing. I'm still hitting my goal of answering all reviews. I really enjoy discussing the story with people so feel free to hit me up with questions, if you have any. I want you to know that I appreciate your support.

Chapter 10: Is This What You Meant About Women Being Unpredictable?

BPOV

My carefully compartmentalized feelings were anything but contained. They were raw and raging, and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to keep them from showing. Even if it did scare the shit out of me, I couldn't bring myself to feel guilty about it. When you spend a week practically connected at the lips to an enthusiastic, handsome (albeit clueless) guy that you have a desperate, life-controlling infatuation with, perspective tends to get a bit cloudy. Not that Edward didn't regularly make the proper perspective crystal clear. He pretty much smacked me in the face with it on a daily basis. The problem was that he muddied it just as often.

Edward's behavior was extreme in both directions, and I wasn't dealing especially well with either. When he kissed me and unleashed the full force of his intensity on me, I was a breath away from total surrender. When he withdrew and reverted back into his scientific state of mind, his conduct and words were often heart wrenching. In one sense, it was good; it was a reminder that what we were doing was, indeed, an experiment and that he had no feelings whatsoever for me. The problem was that when his lips were pressed against mine, it was pretty stinking hard to remember that. I knew that my feelings were the problem. I was indulging them with my stupid, little fantasies, but he had planted the seeds of doubt all on his own when he lost control and kissed me. It seemed like I worked to find the right perspective, just to be shoved back into a situation that made it hard to remember which way was up. The back and forth left my head spinning.

The most dangerous fantasy of all, one I too frequently entertained, was the notion that his feelings for me could change at any time. No matter how many times I warned myself against it, I knew there was underlying truth in the statement. It would have been easier to keep my feelings hidden if I knew that there was no possibility of him caring for me. But there was a possibility. Or the possibility of a possibility. He had liked me, once upon a time. Admittedly, it was a childhood crush and could by no means be equated with anything mature or even close to the strength of what I felt for him now. I still saw bits and pieces of that little boy in Edward, and goodness knows, the little girl he'd saved all those years ago was still hiding inside of me, waiting for someone to care about her. If he fell for me once, it could happen again.

And I wanted it to.

More than anything.

Edward's approach to kissing was to push through every kiss like a lead-foot with an addiction to speeding. He just barreled along with no idea where he was going, fuelled solely by a desire to find success. To me, that was as idiotic as driving down the Pacific Coast Highway and not stopping to enjoy the beautiful view. I wasn't expecting him to be moved by every kiss, just to get as much from the experience as he could. Okay, yes, I wanted him to tap into his emotions. I was sure he felt things, even if he didn't understand or express them. His modus operandi with respect to kissing, and I suspected any intimate situation, was like using a GPS - as uncomplicated as turning right when the stupid voice told him to. I wanted him to learn to read the map the old-fashioned way, to use his eyes, read the signs and take into account that sometimes there were detours that changed your course.

He finally broke free of his rushing on Friday night. The blindfold seemed to make the difference, either that or all of the practice we'd been doing paid off at rather coincidental time. It wasn't that I was complaining. I liked kissing Edward, but it was also confusing. Having him so close sent me into sensory overload - the heat of his body against mine; the taste of him on my tongue; his intoxicating scent that pulled me in; the feel of him under my fingertips. Those moments were euphoric and overwhelming. When the kisses ended, Edward's inevitable slip back into awkward introversion made me feel foolish and naïve. It was hard not to take his behavior personally. He seemed to be able to turn his desire on and off like a switch. I wasn't so lucky. My libido was like a leaky tap that couldn't be shut off. My shower massager got quite a work out.

Exams couldn't have come at a better time. I needed to regroup. Now that Edward had mastered the give and take of a good kiss, I had no idea where he wanted to move to next, and I wasn't sure what I wanted either. When I first considered entering into this crazy arrangement with him, I thought dragging it out as long as possible was the way to go. That would give him the maximum amount of time to open up to me. Now, I wasn't so sure. I hadn't figured in my own inability to keep the charade going. My feelings were clawing their way up to the surface a little more each day. It was only a matter of time before Edward would put two and two together. Maybe it was better to rush us along so I could experience as many things as he was willing to share with me. If my feelings were what would eventually drive him away, then there was no point in creeping along at a snail's pace when they were so close to being discovered.

Behaving myself was becoming more challenging. The more I touched him, the more I wanted to touch him, and I wasn't alone. Izzy wanted to sample the goods, too. I was now referring to my inner dominatrix by nickname because she was appearing more and more often in my head. The blame was Edward's, in my opinion. He was too good-looking and too good at pushing my buttons to keep her quiet. She was working against me at every turn. It was probably karma for the way I was challenging him to feel something. My covert intentions were potentially underhanded. At the very least, they were lacking full disclosure. Though it could be construed as lying, I had trouble calling it that. I wanted Edward to feel something, so I was using the tools at my disposal to press the issue. He'd created the opportunity; I was just taking advantage of it. It didn't feel like manipulation because everything I'd done was rooted in my honest and true feelings. If something I said or did made him develop feelings for me, wasn't that just a part of falling for someone? It wasn't as if I could control what he felt. That was up to him.

Deep down, I knew my rationalizing was a way to disguise my dishonesty so I didn't have to feel guilty about it, but the one piece of information that I'd failed to disclose would have stolen the opportunity to be with Edward away from me. I wasn't willing to give that chance up.

Edward didn't call me over the weekend. He was probably still reveling in his arrogance. Don't get me wrong, he did a great job with the kiss on Friday, but his smugness was written all over his face. He was overbearing and insensitive for the rest of the night. Shit like that was why he had no friends. It made him hard to relate to. I could barely stand to look at him, let alone be around him when he got like that.

The kiss we'd shared was the most intimate thing I'd ever experienced. It was deeper and more emotional than just our physical connection. There was so much mutual understanding between us in those moments. He'd never been so responsive and perfectly attuned with what was being offered to him. It was a far cry from the impatient, willful guy that first kissed me. That's why it felt like he cheapened it, after the fact, with his smugness. I didn't understand how he could be so open and perceptive one moment, and so full of himself, the next. Though I knew it was all a game to him - something to be achieved – it didn't hurt any less that he flagrantly treated it like that. I spent the rest of the night wishing I could take the moment back because he didn't deserve what I'd given him.

I emailed him late Sunday night to wish him good luck on his exams. Monday and Tuesday passed with no word from him. I tried not to let it bother me, but it did. Wednesday I got a casual 'Care to get together tonight?' email response from him. I replied with a no. I had my calculus exam the next day and wasn't about to make time for him, given his indifference over the last few days. I recognized my own passive aggressiveness but was too irritated with him to rise above it. On Thursday, I avoided him like the plague and used the excuse of his aloofness to justify my behavior. Honestly, there was a part of me that didn't want to know if he was going to continue in his distant pattern. I knew I had no right to feel like a wronged girlfriend, but that was exactly how I felt. The turmoil of emotions inside me was like a tempest and everything I did was a lame attempt to fight against it before it ate me alive. After my Spanish exam, I tried to work thought my own bullshit, knowing I had to reclaim a healthier perspective.

Instead of concentrating on all the ways that I felt Edward had let me down, I decided to adjust my expectations. It wasn't easy to admit that I'd been hoping he'd be more sensitive to my feelings once he let me in, especially when I realized how stupid the wish was. He was, and would always be, Edward, and I had to stop expecting him to be anyone else. We were doing this experiment for different reasons, and as much as I wanted him to fall for me, there were no guarantees that he would. It was my own fault if I mistook his response for a reciprocation of my feelings. Even though I understood the notion, I knew I still had a lot of work ahead of me to fully accept it.

Friday was a beautiful day, and with my exams finished, I decided to take a hike. I was packing up the truck when Edward showed up unannounced. My stomach did a little flip flop flutter thing at the sight of him. Hey, I said I'd adjusted my expectations, not my feelings.

"Do you have plans?" His voice sounded apprehensive, even though his expression was calm.

"Just going for a hike up at Beaver Hill," I replied indifferently. "Trying to take advantage of the nice weather while it lasts."

"I thought you might like to have lunch together." He didn't look up at me when he spoke, so technically, he'd asked his shoes out to eat. I smirked at his timidity and went back to packing my stuff.

"You're welcome to come along, if you like. I have some snacks packed."

"I wouldn't want to intrude." So formal and coy. I rolled my eyes at his absurdity. He still hadn't looked up at me.

"Cullen, aren't we past all this awkward crap?" When he finally met my gaze, I continued. "If you want to come, please come, and if it's not your thing, no big deal. We'll catch up on the weekend or something."

"I'd like to come." Though his voice was quiet, the smile on his lips was genuine and wide.

I looked him over from head to toe. "You'll need to change out of those oxfords or your feet will be screaming at you."

He looked down at what he was wearing. "Khakis and a sweater aren't hiking gear?"

It wasn't until I looked up at his face that I realized he was joking. "I'll follow you back to your house."

~8~

Edward lagged behind me as I led the way through the trails. It was pretty obvious that he was out of his element. He seemed put off by every branch and bug we encountered, and especially by the uneven ground that truly made this a hike as opposed to a walk. Once we reached the summit, I unpacked the blanket and food that I'd brought, and we stretched out, enjoying the rare opportunity to soak up the sun. I slipped off my shoes and socks, shoved my earbuds into my ears and rolled over onto my stomach. Edward leaned back onto his palms and stared stoically off into the distance. I got about ten pages into my book when he tapped me on the shoulder.

"Is your hair naturally curly?"

I pulled out one earbud and looked at him like he had horns. "Excuse me?"

He picked up one of the curls that dangled off my shoulder and twisted it around his index finger. "It's just that I've seen your hair very straight and very curly, and I was wondering which state is natural for it."

It was things like this that made me fall into the trap of believing he could have feelings for me. Why would he be playing with my hair if he didn't like me? It was a very natural gesture to do to someone you cared about. Yet, I could make an equally strong, albeit more depressing, argument that Edward's curiosity bridged the gap between personal space invasion and inappropriately intimate contact quite nicely. He was that guy, I just didn't know if he was both.

"Somewhere in between, I guess," I mumbled noncommittally.

Edward's attention was on the curl. He let it go and watched it uncoil. "It's either one or the other, Bella." His tone was condescending, like I had insulted him by not labeling my locks appropriately.

"Who cares which it is?" I flipped my hair back, gathering it over my shoulder so it would be out of his reach.

"Don't take it away."

I turned and glared at him, perturbed by his demand. "Why are you playing with my hair? The gesture could be misconstrued, you know."

"I like the way it bounces back into its spiral, and how could it possibly be misconstrued?" He rolled his eyes at me, showboating, entirely sure that his conduct was normal. I huffed at his conceit.

"It's something you would do to someone you care about."

"I do care about you, Bella."

Even though I knew the words didn't mean what I wanted them to, my heartbeat sped up anyway. "Let me rephrase, it's not something you do to someone who's just a friend."

"Well, you aren't just a friend."

I sat up and turned toward him, my mind reeling at his suggestion. "What am I then?"

"We have a partnership. I think that makes us more than friends because we have a deeper trust and understanding."

Or no understanding whatsoever, depending on whom you ask.

"It still doesn't remove us from the realm of friendship. Only two things can: love and hate." I was adamant. There was no way I was going to let him confuse the two.

"I hope that we will be friends and lovers, when we're done," he said quietly.

I swallowed hard, irritated and a tiny bit shocked by his choice of words. "I think the word lovers means something different to me. Having a sexual relationship doesn't make you my lover."

"What does it make me then?" The amused look on his face made me even angrier. I was beginning to think his smugness was a disease. It seemed to be seeping into every corner of his personality.

"It doesn't make you anything except someone I had sex with."

"Which is, by definition, a lover," he stated, his tone dripping with self-righteousness.

I'd had enough of his patronizing bullshit. "Does that make a prostitute and her trick lovers?"

"Strictly speaking, yes."

I rolled my eyes and dug deeper, looking for a finer line of separation. "And a rapist and his victim, are they lovers?"

"No, because the sex is forced." He made no attempt to disguise the indignation in his voice, refusing to even consider my point of view.

"Oh, I see, consent makes the lovers. So a prostitute sleeps with random men because she wants lovers, not because it's the only way she can feed her kids?"

He narrowed his eyes at me. "She's making a choice."

I closed my eyes and shook my head, trying to shrug off his arrogant know-it-all attitude. I had to control my temper if I wanted to make him see my point. "And what about me? If I had said yes to Mike that night, would we be considered consensual lovers?"

"You weren't in any shape to make a rational decision." His dismissive tone bothered me to no end. Why couldn't he just see that what I was talking about wasn't so simple?

"But I might not have been so far gone that I couldn't have agreed to it," I whispered, wishing with everything in me that he'd try to see my side of things.

"What is your point, Bella?" I don't know why he bothered to ask. It was clear he didn't care to know.

I paused for a moment, trying to gather my wits so I could condense everything I was saying into a single powerful statement. Even if he refused to see my point, I wanted him to know he was wrong. "Everything is so black and white to you. Do you never see the grey?"

"Why are you going out of your way to find fault in my statements?" He threw his head back and groaned. To him, I was the difficult one. He wouldn't stop for even for a moment to consider anything I'd said. He was right, and that was the end of the story.

"Because you're not always right," I said matter-of-factly, knowing he wouldn't believe me. Resigned, I got to my feet and began packing up my things. The afternoon, and quite possibly our tentative relationship, was a bust in every way. We would never be able to get past our inability to compromise, and God knows, we'd never see eye-to-eye or be able to agree to disagree.

"I'm not always wrong either," he said disparagingly. I didn't even bother to acknowledge his comment.

When I yanked on the blanket and couldn't budge it, I glared at him. He glared right back, refusing to move.

I shrugged. "Keep it then. I'll buy another."

My hands were shaking by the time I started for my truck. Hoping to avoid any further discussion with him, my steps were even more rushed when I heard him scrambling behind me. I wasn't fast enough. He caught me by the wrist and spun me around. His hands cupped my cheeks and made it impossible for me to look away from him.

"Would it really be that bad if we were lovers?" His voice was quietly urgent and exuded a vehemence I didn't understand. He brushed his lips against mine.

"No," I whispered, letting his lips silence the remainder of my thoughts.

I wanted him to be my lover, but also for the word to hold all of the importance it held for me. His casual use of it removed the significance of the emotional bond involved, and that bothered me much more than knowing it would never have the same meaning to him. He was too close-minded to understand the distinction between sexual partners and lovers, or the notion of people doing something they felt they had no other choice to do. I wasn't even sure that he was capable of empathizing beyond any situation he'd encountered. I could teach him how to kiss and touch a woman, but I was kidding myself thinking that I could teach him to love.

For the first time since reconnecting with Edward, I felt helpless. Ignoring the fact that I was in over my head wasn't working. Trying to hide my feelings from him was an exercise in futility. I was reacting to practically every thing he said and did. I needed to get a hold of myself and change the way I was doing things. I needed time to think.

For now though, I would make one small change. I wasn't going to hide my disappointment from him. If he wanted me to accept his stubbornness and arrogance without question, then he was going to have to deal with my emotions and mood swings. In overlooking his social quirks, I was letting him treat me however he wanted, and it just wasn't working for me any longer. I wasn't being myself, and that had to change.

~8~

EPOV

Exams couldn't have come at a worse time. I finally understood what was expected from a kiss and was able to find something other than confusion in the connection, only to have the opportunity for further exploration unavoidably shelved. To make matters worse, my mother's return placed further constraints on my time. The burden of her relentless travel schedule was weighing heavily on her, so she'd taken a few impromptu vacation days. As it was, this time of the year always made her melancholy. The passing of my parents' wedding anniversary made her miss my father that much more. The fix for her mood invariably involved some time with me, and it was good to see her. It had been at least a couple of months since we'd spent more than a day or two together. Unfortunately, it also meant that I didn't have time for much else besides studying. Once she got her bearings, she roared back to life with drive and passion, which was a relief. Her depression was never easy to witness.

After my mother returned to her tour, I couldn't seem to catch up with Bella. I ended up going to her house to ask her to lunch. She'd already made plans to take a hike and invited me to go. It wasn't exactly how I wanted to spend my time with her, nor was it something I enjoyed doing, but I went along anyway. Bella seemed a little preoccupied, and I was at a loss to find things to say to her, which is why we started arguing, I guess. She acted as if I was purposely misinterpreting her train of thought, but she wasn't exactly being forthcoming with her logic. Everything between us felt incredibly out of sync. I don't know what made me reach out for her. I only knew I wanted to halt the strangeness that punctuated our interactions, and kissing her Friday was the last time I could remember something positive and comfortable happening between us.

She didn't fight the kiss. In fact, she let me control it implicitly. She'd never done that before. I was gentle in exactly the way she'd been with me on Friday. I was patient and tried read her body language, but every response I got from her was passive. Her lips were borderline apathetic as they moved with mine. Something was bothering her, and I didn't know what to do to change it.

"What did I do wrong?" I whispered, pulling back from the kiss.

"Nothing. This is all me." Her voice was small, almost defeated.

"I don't understand."

"You're not supposed to," she mumbled, looking down.

"Maybe if I did, I could help." I moved my hands away from her cheeks, cupping her elbows lightly to encourage her to talk to me.

She moved back from me and adjusted her backpack. "You don't get to know what's going on inside my head, Edward. We may have a certain level of trust between us and agreed to take part in an experiment, but it doesn't obligate us to share our thoughts. We aren't confidants."

It wasn't like Bella to be closed off, not to mention that the reasons behind it might affect our partnership. "Doesn't the experiment require a certain level of communication, such as why you weren't responding?"

"If it becomes a problem for the experiment then it's fair game for us to talk about, but I'm not required to take part in something just because you're in the mood."

"You've never not been in the mood before." My statement sounded more like an accusation than I intended. I really just wanted to understand what was bothering her.

She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. I could hear the irritation in her voice when she finally spoke. "That comment was rude, presumptuous and completely uncalled for. I'm not at your beck and call, nor did I ever agree to be. If that's what you're expecting, then we may as well call the experiment off now."

"Is this what you meant about women being unpredictable?" I asked curiously.

Her eyes darted to mine and hardened in anger. "You're an asshole." She turned on her heel and stalked off. I followed her but lagged behind a bit while I tried to figure out where things had gone wrong.

I was silently grateful that she didn't drive off without me and leave me stranded, but I decided against telling her so. If the scowl on her face was any indication, she was still very angry. The drive home was silent. When she pulled up in front of my house, she didn't shut her engine off or even put the truck in park. I didn't take that as a positive sign.

"Where does this leave us?" I didn't want to push my luck, but given her last couple of statements to me, I had no idea if she even wanted to continue.

"We're exactly where we've always been," she muttered, not bothering to take her eyes off the road.

"I guess I'll wait for you to contact me, since today went so off course." It wasn't really what I wanted, but whatever was bothering Bella would be standing in our way until we talked about it. Clearly, she wasn't ready to talk about it now.

"Fine."

I got out of her truck without another word. Something told me I wouldn't be hearing from her for a while, if at all.

A/N: Duh, duh, duh. If my betas' comments are indicative, you all might have some very impassioned viewpoints about Edward's behaviour in this chapter. Or Bella's for that matter.

Did Edward deserve to be called an asshole? Was it fair of Bella to be so angry that Edward didn't call? Should Edward have explained the situation with his mother to Bella? Do you think doing that would have allowed them to avoid the fight they had? What do you think is going on with Bella? Is she going to contact Edward? Should Edward contact her?

Give me your opinions. I'm anxiously awaiting them. Click that review button and let them rip.