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Chapter 12: I'm Not Quite Sure What I'm Doing Here

BPOV

Getting sick with a cold forced a break from Edward and gave me a lot of time to think.

And rethink.

And over-think.

It took me days to get over being angry with myself once I realized what I'd done. Of course his expectations were skewed. I'd made sure I was always available, just on the off chance that he'd show up or call. In retrospect, it had been a very desperate way to behave. He'd certainly never asked me to give up everything else in my life. I'd done it willingly, as if my dedication would somehow make him like me. The only thing it made me was an idiot.

Hoping to bring my life back into balance, I started by apologizing to my friends. Luckily, they didn't hold a grudge, even when all I offered was a vague explanation for what had kept me away. Rose and Alice folded me back into their afterschool and weekend plans without hesitation. Knowing me the way they did, they must have sensed that I needed the help, even though I never asked for it directly. Alice didn't pester me about why I was mopey; instead, she extended her silent reassurance in hugs and smiles. Only her eyes betrayed her suspicion that there was more to my story than I let on. Rose refused to let me wallow, encouraging me to get out of the house in her lovingly pushy way. They kept me busy, and while it wasn't doing much to temper my feelings for Edward, at least I felt a little less pathetic.

I wondered what they would say if they knew exactly how stupid I'd been over a guy. How I'd agreed to give up my virginity to him despite the fact that he openly admitted he was looking for a no-strings arrangement. How I'd stopped acting like myself around him because I was afraid it would scare him away if he found out that I'd fallen for him. Of course, I'd promised Edward I'd keep the details of our agreement to myself, so I couldn't turn to my friends for advice on how the hell to deal with my feelings or what to do. I was completely and utterly on my own to figure things out.

Realistically, I knew what was going on with me. Explaining it to Edward was an entirely different animal. My errors weren't compatible with his logic. My heart's wish made me mistake the way he got caught up in what we were doing for the belief that he might be developing feelings for me. Let's face it, any explanation I could offer for how I'd behaved when he didn't contact me after our night of stargazing would be nothing more than excuses to him. He couldn't understand that it felt like rejection because his rationale for everything was so strongly rooted in his own twisted form of emotionless dogma. Worst of all, I couldn't justify the things I'd done without alluding to how I felt about him.

Which lead to the crux of my problem - did I have to come clean about what was in my heart to move forward with Edward?

I struggled with that question for days because I knew that being honest about my feelings would most likely mean the end of our experiment and us. I wasn't ready to give Edward up. Yet, pretending that I didn't care about him had proven impossible and made my behavior appear erratic and irrational. Because I was afraid to lose him, I'd traded a little bit of my dignity away every day until I'd lost sight of who I was. I wanted to be what Edward needed, but I had to stay true to myself, too. I didn't know how to do both.

The time away from him was a bit of a wake up call for me. It forced me to see that I didn't hold the special place in his life that I'd hoped I might. The only contact from him was a couple of small emails. Not that I was expecting a grand gesture from him… or anything, at all. He'd been very clear about the fact that he would wait for me to get in touch with him. I guess that was his way of giving me space to figure my shit out. His emails taunted me from their home in my inbox - a digital reminder that things were unsettled between us, and that my actions were to blame. I tried so many times to reply but ended up deleting every response I composed because they all felt contrived. Small talk was a poor substitute for dealing with the real issue.

What could I really say to him, though? I'm sorry I lost my mind, Edward. By the way, I liked you when the experiment began, so I've been deceiving you all this time. And for the record, I've fallen for you… hard. Wanna have sex? As honest as each word was, I didn't want to say any of it to him, nor was I sure I actually needed to.

School became an exercise in futility. I watched him to the point of ridiculousness, all in the hope that I'd glean something from him that could help me decide what direction to move in. All I managed to do was notice that he rarely noticed me. He seemed so untouchable – content in his impenetrable microcosm of logic and detachment. For the first time, his preoccupation seemed less lonely and more enviable. I wasn't capable of it, but I craved the complacency and equanimity it provided.

The brief eye contact we made while passing one another in the halls unnerved me. I couldn't look him in the face without feeling ashamed of myself.

Stuck in my confusion and indecision, a few days of not speaking to Edward slipped into a week, and then two. I felt paralyzed – damned whether I did or didn't. The longer I avoided talking to him, the harder approaching him became. I'd dug myself a hole that I didn't know how to get out of.

Yet, despite his indifference and my ambivalence, I missed him.

When he showed up unexpectedly at my locker and spoke to me in his condescendingly formal way, I panicked and said the first sarcastic thing that came to my mouth. Good afternoon to you too, Cullen. It was a stupid, knee-jerk reaction and not at all what I should have said. Worried that I was about to screw things up between us even more, I took a deep breath and tried to focus my thoughts. I intentionally pushed aside the shame of my actions and the fear of losing him, and what remained was relief. He was there - close enough to touch - not just a problem to be solved or the object of my dreams but a living, breathing person with whom I had a connection. Unsurprisingly, there was longing, excitement, and hope, too. I wanted him there, to have this with him, regardless of what this was. And while none of the feelings were unexpected, the respite from the guilt and shame I'd been drowning in made me feel more like myself.

Suddenly, what I'd been doing hit me like a ton of bricks. I'd been sabotaging myself, so fixated on losing Edward that I was practically pushing him away with the lies I was perpetuating – lies about the kind of person that I was and what I wanted. It was no wonder that he'd given me space the last two weeks. I was a loose canon - a self-fulfilling prophecy - all because I'd gone against my instincts. Keeping the truth hidden was pointless, if it prevented me from being true to myself.

Realistically, whether or not Edward stayed had never been in my control. Even if I was everything he needed me to be, there were no guarantees. I could only be myself, and let the chips fall where they may. It was okay to bend to make him comfortable, but I didn't have to be someone else because something I felt or did was inconvenient for him. In other words, I didn't have to tell him what was in my heart to move forward, but I did have to honor it.

My cheeks were beet red. It was impossible not to feel embarrassed that it took me two weeks to see the answer that had been staring me in the face all along. On top of it, I felt rather stupid, but beating myself up about it was a waste of time. I'd already wasted so much time and energy, worrying and being afraid. That ended now. If it was truly as simple as being myself, I could do that with no difficulty. With almost eighteen years of experience under my belt, I excelled at being me. One might even say that I'd perfected it.

Our separation over the last two weeks had been my fault, so I needed to reach out to Edward to make up for it. For a split second, I considered taking him up on his offer to go out. The problem was that I'd already made plans with Alice. If I accepted his invitation, I'd just be falling back into my old pattern of giving up everything in my life for him. This was my chance at a redo, and I didn't want to start it off by repeating mistakes I'd already made. Instead, I took a chance and invited him to join me at the dance. The idea of our bodies moving together in a dark room was very appealing - sort of like an exaggerated version of the blindfold - if I could get him to relax enough to just let loose. I knew Edward well enough that I expected him to turn me down. Dancing wasn't exactly his thing.

Instead of dwelling on his resistance, I decided to make it absolutely clear to him that I wanted him there. Keeping my feelings hidden from him was no longer an option. I owed that to myself. The profound internal change in me was nothing more than a subtle difference to the outside world. To Edward, it might be completely invisible, but it would let me be me, without all the guilt and confusion.

~8~

I didn't bring up the dance again. Edward had given me plenty of time and space to make up my mind, so I wanted to return the favor. Since I didn't expect that he'd actually go, I made a contingency plan to ask him out to lunch on Saturday. It was important to show him that I was still in the experiment, but equally important to keep things low-key. We'd had enough stress lately.

With my change in attitude, I felt lighter and freer. I found myself smiling frequently, often for no reason. Unfortunately, the smile I gave Edward when he passed me Friday morning seemed to aggravate him more than please him. I knew that I had fences to mend with him, so I didn't let it get me down. He seemed high-strung all day long, and I had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with my dance invitation. I just couldn't decide if his uptightness meant he was actually considering it or not. Since it wasn't my decision, I pushed the thought from my mind. He had to make up his own mind.

The dance was fun. It was liberating to push everything out of my consciousness and let the music tell me what to do, not to mention the rush from helping Alice with Jasper. Alice had finally decided to do something about the crush she had on him. While she was tripping the light fantastic with Tyler Crowley, I took the opportunity to talk Jasper's ear off about her and point out what he was missing. I was thrilled when Jasper asked her to dance. They made a cute couple and deserved to be happy together.

I was so focused on Alice and Jasper that I didn't notice Mike's approach. He came at me from behind and threw both of his arms around me; one looped around my shoulder to cover my mouth and the other stretched down my torso. His free hand grabbed at me roughly until his fingertips groped my pussy. I screamed, but it was muffled by his palm and indiscernible over the loud music. Despite my thrashing and jerking, I couldn't get away from the hold he had on me. The more I resisted him, the tighter his grip became. He forced me to move, towing me along awkwardly until the speakers hid us from view. I had to do something to keep myself safe, so I promised to be quiet in exchange for him unhanding me. He reeked of beer, and I thought I might be able to use his intoxication against him somehow. I didn't have to. Edward appeared out of nowhere and did some ninja-like knuckle trick on Mike's elbow that brought Mike to his knees in about three seconds flat. In my fearful state, it didn't even occur to me that Edward shouldn't have been there. There was just an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. I didn't hear what Edward said to Mike. As soon as I realized I was safe, my adrenaline-filled body started shaking, and my brain shut down. I couldn't think, let alone dance, so I let Edward take me home when he offered.

The scene with Mike replayed in my head as we drove. Even though I was pretty sure it wouldn't have gone much further - that what happened was just a bad choice by an idiot who was too handsy when he was drunk - it was too easy to imagine what could have happened. Let's face it, he'd already shown me what an asshole he could be. I wanted to erase the whole thing from my memory - the fear, the helplessness, the violation. Edward was the only person that I could imagine making me feel safe, but I couldn't ask for his help. He'd already gone above and beyond by helping me get away from Mike in the first place.

When Edward dropped me off, I was a breath away from falling apart. It was the last thing I wanted to do. Mike didn't deserve a single ounce of my energy or emotion. With a whispered thank-you and goodbye, I made my way into my house, struggling not to blink and willing the tears not to fall. To fight against the way I was feeling, I immediately stripped off the outfit I was wearing. I wanted no part of anything Mike had touched. It wasn't enough to give me a mental separation from what had happened. To comfort myself, I put on my favorite tank top and flannel pajama bottoms. I was pulling my hair into a high ponytail when I heard a knock on the door.

EPOV

I waited, watching to see that Bella got into the house safely. I saw the door close and the light inside turn on. All I had to do was press the gas pedal, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. It felt wrong to drive away when she was upset. I should have asked her to stay and talk with me, or invited her to come to my house. Instead, I'd waited for her invitation, which was exceptionally shortsighted, given what she'd been through with Mike. I should have been the one to reach out tonight, and I needed to rectify my mistake.

I knocked on the door feeling apprehensive about what state I might find Bella in. I nearly expected tears when she opened the door, but to my surprise, she greeted me with graceful composure and invited me.

"I'm not quite sure what I'm doing here," I admitted quietly, "but I couldn't leave knowing that you weren't okay. I know that we haven't spoken in almost two weeks, and that the last time we did, I upset you. I still haven't figured out how, but that's beside the point. What I'm trying to say is that I don't like the distance between us. I don't know if you've intentionally shut me out or simply lost interest in the experiment, but I can't stand by and do nothing when you're hurting. I'd rather try to help you and get shot down, than to wait around for you to come to me and do nothing but feel rejected when you don't call." She looked at me with wide eyes, tears brimming. "In my experience, it's better to be with someone who cares about you when you're feeling alone and overwhelmed. And if the experiment is what's keeping you away, then let's just forget it. I'm far more worried about how you're doing right now, than about figuring out all that other physical stuff. You're my closest friend, and I've missed you."

She crashed into me, wrapping her arms tightly around my torso as she started crying. Even though I'd been dreading that reaction from her, it really wasn't as bad as I'd anticipated. Not her crying, of course. Her sobbing was quite bad, enough to soak the fabric of my shirt where her face pressed against it. I meant that the discomfort of letting her cry in my arms wasn't as terrible as I expected it would be. It actually felt kind of rewarding to be supportive, especially after what Mike had done. I had to admit that it felt good to be useful instead of insignificant and sidelined.

I tried to soothe her by gently rubbing her back and whispering calming messages, reminding her that Mike couldn't hurt her and that she was safe. Unfortunately, it did nothing to slow down her tears. Her sobbing went on for so long that I began to wonder if perhaps I wasn't very good at providing comfort. It's not as if I'd tried before, at least not with anyone aside from my mother. To avoid feeling helpless and incompetent, I started talking to distract myself.

"I understand the need to be held by someone when you're upset. My mother held me like this the day my father died. I didn't think I'd ever stop crying. She told me that everything would be okay… but it never was again, so I won't placate you with meaningless words, Bella. I can't pretend to understand how you must be feeling, but I make you this promise: I'll hold you for as long as you need me to.

"It's basic biology, really. Human beings need touch to thrive. Massage has been shown to boost immune function and lower stress hormones in premature babies. A mother's touch stimulates the release of pain-suppressing endorphins in an injured child. Even a simple touch on the shoulder can reduce the heart rate and lower blood pressure. And of course there's the touch between a woman and a man." As I spoke, I slid my hand under Bella's ponytail and along the bare skin just below her neck, hoping to back up what I'd been nattering on about so it didn't seem like mindless drivel.

An idea hit me, and while it was a little unconventional, everything about our relationship was, so I hoped that she'd forgive me that it was a tiny bit forward.

"Come with me to the couch. I want to try something."

After she tucked herself into my side, she allowed me to guide her into the living room. Her sobbing had slowed to sniffles and gasps, but her eyes were still wet. Once we got to the couch, I sat down and pulled her into my lap. Before she could protest, I wrapped my arms around her securely and settled her body snug against my chest. The way she was cradled against me helped quell the surge of protectiveness that I had yet to rid myself of. I wondered if anything could possibly make her feel safeguarded after what Mike had put her through, but hoped my arms might foster some security. If nothing else, she could lean on me instead of holding herself up, and maybe find it within herself to calm down.

"When words fail, touch is a good way to convey that you care." I traced Bella's spine slowly with my fingers, paying extra attention to where her skin was uncovered. "If you think about it, touch is a very intimate form of communication between consenting partners. It doesn't have to facilitate sex. There is a lot of comfort and relaxation to be exchanged."

I continued to caress her back, letting my hand drift to different spots, doing my best to keep my touch light and unassuming. While she was still far from composed, Bella's breathing was beginning to slow down. I drew circles on her hip with my other hand. She seemed to like what I was doing, nestling her head into my neck. As the minutes passed, I could feel her weight increase against me as she finally began to relax. Once she seemed peaceful, and I was sure the crying and upset had passed, I stilled my hands.

"Don't stop," she murmured. "What you're doing feels so nice."

Her request surprised me a little, but I was happy to hear that I was helping. I resumed my efforts, sliding one hand up her back and smoothing the other across her hip. When my fingers moved along the pale skin that peeked out between her top and bottoms, Bella sighed softly. I hoped it meant she was feeling better, but when I opened my mouth to ask her, she began to speak.

"When I was a little girl, I used to sit on my dad's lap while he watched baseball. He would tell me all about the players, and we'd talk about the game. It was one of the few ways we connected. After my mom left, he shut me out. All he gave me were empty promises about next time, except next time never came. It's been a long time since anyone was this caring with me."

"I hope it's not too forward, after what happened tonight." I didn't really think it was, but I wanted her to know that I was heedful of her state of mind. She'd been through enough.

"It's not," she told me quietly. "It's exactly what I needed."

After a few minutes of companionable silence, Bella started to say something and then stopped herself. Following a few moments of hesitation, she began again. "I have a favor to ask of you… I'm warning you… you're going to think it's strange… like totally out in left field, if you'll pardon the baseball idiom."

"What is it?"

"Will you take your shirt off?" she blurted as a telltale crimson color seeped across her cheeks.

I blinked hard in confusion. "Err… excuse me?"

"I know it sounds totally bizarre." She balled her hands and rested them on her lap before shaking her head a little. " I just thought… if I could feel your warmth… it's the gesture of… Look, it doesn't matter. I'm sure I sound like a nutjob."

"It's a little unexpected, but I don't think you sound like a nutjob," I offered, hoping it was enough to prompt a more detailed explanation from her. I didn't want to put her on the spot by asking for one, but I was exceptionally curious about what she was after.

"When you hold me like this, I feel safe. It's the exact opposite of the helplessness and betrayal that Mike made me feel. I just thought that if I could take the comfort a little bit further that it might erase the lingering vulnerability. It's stupid, I know."

"It's not stupid. It's easy to understand why you'd want to forget the way Mike made you feel."

"It's more than that," she admitted, biting her lip and looking down. "The warmth of your skin will bring me physical comfort, but I also want the emotional comfort from the intimacy of being held like that, by you."

"Then there are two reasons to do it." I was glad that my voice didn't betray the assurance in my words. A half dozen reasons that warned me against taking my shirt off popped into my mind, but I pushed them out knowing how hard it must have been for her to ask. I wanted her to have what she needed, if for no other reason then to rid herself of any remaining effects from Mike's audacity.

I lifted my arms a bit, and Bella shifted to give me room to shrug out of my sweater and t-shirt. Swallowing hard, I tried to ignore the awkwardness of being half-naked in her living room, running my fingers through my hair to distract myself. She gave me a small smile to encourage me, and then tucked her head under my chin, subtly relaxing against my chest. I think she knew that eye contact would make me feel more conspicuous.

It didn't take long for me to loosen up and actually enjoy holding her that way. There was definitely something appealing in it, maybe the softness of her cheek on my skin or the way the scent of her hair seemed to envelop me. It was strange that whatever had kept us apart for the past couple of weeks had simply melted away. I had no explanation for it other than the fact that Bella needed a friend and I was in the right place at the right time, and that was good enough for me.

I gently stroked her back, enjoying the softness of her hair on my hands when I met with it. Bella seemed a tiny bit restless, and I wondered if she was still struggling with what happened with Mike.

"Are you going to tell me what happened tonight?"

"There's not much to tell," she stated matter-of-factly. "Mike grabbed me from behind and covered my mouth so no one could hear me scream. And then he copped a feel on my crotch."

"He what?" Her words momentarily stunned me.

"He was drunk. He probably doesn't even remember doing it." I resented her attempt to downplay Mike's actions. He needed to be held accountable for what happened.

"That doesn't excuse his behavior." I cupped the back of her head with my hand, hoping to comfort her further. It used to help when my mother did it to me. "I'm sorry, Bella."

"Don't be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong."

"You should report him. He needs to be reprimanded, whether he was intoxicated or not." I meant my words to be gentle, but they weren't. They were vehement and demanding.

"It's still his word against mine. I think it's better to just steer clear of him."

Her generosity with Mike the first time around was completely unappreciated by him. He'd learned nothing, not even to thank his lucky stars, much less to treat her with veneration. He didn't deserve her kindness a second time. Even though I disagreed with her, it was easier to allow for the possibility that her choice was the right way to handle things, than to chance upsetting her. "Maybe."

"Thank you for being there," she whispered.

I nodded, not really knowing what the appropriate verbal response was. What I did know was that Mike needed to learn respect, and I was going to make sure the lesson was unforgettable. In fact, I knew exactly the right person to help me out with it. I was deeply engrossed in the planning when Bella's quiet voice broke through my concentration.

"I owe you an apology, Edward. I'm really sorry for the way I treated you the last two weeks. It was wrong. I was having second thoughts about the experiment-"

I interrupted her. "Stop, Bella. You don't owe me an explanation. If the experiment was the reason you stayed away from me, we should forget about it."

She chose her words thoughtfully. "It's just that kissing you made me… feel things, and it was… confusing. I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to go through with our agreement."

Her admission made the skin on the back of my neck prickle. I swiped at it ineffectually, knowing that my hand wouldn't take away the burn of my embarrassment. Hearing that the affection we'd shared had triggered a similar effect in both of us, made my head spin for a few moments. I felt so obvious, like every touch we'd exchanged had betrayed my inner turmoil and bewilderment.

"So that's why you backed out," I muttered, more to myself than to Bella.

"It wasn't about backing out. I stayed away because the confusion was clouding my judgment. I wasn't treating you fairly, and I didn't want to make things worse between us. It took time to process what I was feeling and understand that it was normal. Have you ever felt something… like that? Something situational that you couldn't explain, something that made you feel confused or unsure, maybe?"

I closed my eyes and gulped, swallowing the hysterical confession that threatened. If I offered up my own confusion, I'd be doing exactly what Bella had worked so hard to avoid. It wasn't fair to muddy the waters when I didn't understand what I was feeling.

Bella's ability to comprehend her emotions on more than a very basic level was enviable. It may have taken her time to grasp the overall meaning, but she'd gotten to the heart of the matter, unlike me. I was as dubious and perplexed as I was the first time she kissed me outside Mike Newton's house.

"I don't think I have, but stranger things have happened." It wasn't an outright lie, nor was it a denial, but it was as much as I felt comfortable admitting. The truth was that I didn't explicitly know what I felt, not the depth or persistence or even the exact existence of my feelings, only that I felt differently about her than I did about any other girl I'd ever crossed paths with.

"It probably sounds foreign to you," she allowed. "You're a self-admitted logician. Emotions are for girls or people with no sense – a silly and frivolous pastime, and certainly not capable of standing up against reason. In a way, you're right. There have been days I wished I wasn't so emotional. They can get in the way, like they did the last couple of weeks. I want you to know that I wasn't staying away to prove a point. I needed a shift in my perspective and a clear understanding of what I was feeling before I could move forward."

"And are you moving forward? Because it's okay if you aren't." I certainly didn't want her to think she owed me her participation.

"I'd like to, if you're still willing to try with me." Her voice was quiet and unsure, mirroring the way I was feeling.

"I want you in my life, experiment or no experiment. I'm more than happy to continue with our agreement, if you're sure that's what you want."

The conversation was silenced by my sentiment. The words hovered around us, unintentionally heavy and insistent in their significance. At least I could be forthright about my desire to have her in my life, if not about the strange mixture of emotions she caused in me. I felt an odd comfort from the knowledge that Bella was afflicted with situational feelings. At least I had some effect on her. She certainly had an effect on me. I was hopeful that I could get to the bottom of whatever it was that she made me feel and come to terms with what was likely a reaction of circumstance, as Bella had suggested. It wasn't permanent for Bella. I had no reason to assume it would be for me either.

A few minutes later, Bella tipped her head back and looked up at me. I gave her a tight smile, not understanding what she needed. She shifted her body until she straddled my lap and then lifted her tank top over her head.

"Wh-what are you doing?" It took all of my concentration to keep my eyes on her face while I spoke.

"Relax, Edward. They're boobs. They won't bite you."

"I know what they are, just not why they're… out."

She pressed herself back into my chest and settled her head on my shoulder. "I thought the skin-to-skin contact would intensify the comfort. Besides, it's only fair if we're both exposed."

Once her arms were wrapped around me, she sighed contentedly. I didn't want to take any of her peacefulness away from her, so I did my best to relax again, inhaling deeply to force new air into my lungs. Despite my best efforts to ignore it, the sensation of her pressed against me was the only thing I could concentrate on.

"Is it helping?" I asked, my voice cracking halfway through the question.

"Mmm-hmm," she hummed. "At least it's helping one of us." She turned her head into my neck, unsuccessfully trying to muffle her giggle. The way her body vibrated against mine only intensified the sensation of her against me.

"I wasn't expecting you to… never mind."

"Tell me," she urged.

"Your bra… what I mean is… every time you breathe… well, the fabric, umm…"

"I could take it off if it's bothering you."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know, but if the fabric is making you uncomfortable, I'd be glad to ditch it for you." She sat back and looked at me, reaching behind her body with both hands.

"No, no, it's fine," I insisted, moving my hands to stop her.

"You're going to see them eventually. Now's as good a time as any."

"Tonight is not the right time." I couldn't imagine worse timing.

"When would an appropriate time be for a rack inspection then?" she teased.

"They're breasts, Bella."

"You're only saying that because you've never touched one. Once you've had your way with a boob, or more importantly, a nipple, I doubt you'll object to a slang term." She bit her lip to keep from smiling, but the corners of her mouth turned up anyway.

"What's wrong with the word breast?"

"Absolutely nothing, but in the throes of passion, you'll want to express yourself with words that get you and your gal pal worked up. Think about it. You're hot and heavy, kissing, touching. You strip down, look into her eyes and say 'I want to put my penis in your vagina.' It's just not gonna fly." She barely got the last few words out through her giggling.

I couldn't help but laugh, too. "You may have a point there."

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Edward. If you're curious about tits, there's no better person to ask than a woman who has a pair."

"I just wasn't sure about the state of our experiment. I meant it when I said we could forget the whole thing if it's coming between us."

"It doesn't have to come between us if we don't let it. How about we chalk up the last couple of weeks to a dead battery, and this can be our recharge, as long as you promise not to use jumper cables on my nipples."

"Bella!"

"What? I'm just trying to lighten the mood. You've been staring for the past five minutes. I don't think I'm being too presumptuous in saying you're interested in them."

I knew my cheeks were red, and not because she knew I was staring at her breasts. I didn't have the slightest clue about how to touch a breast, how hard or soft my caress should be or even what sort of movement would be pleasurable. "Your bra is very pretty," I mumbled, trying to justify my staring. As if her breasts weren't distracting enough, the bra she wore was a sight all on its own, feminine and sexy, dark pink cups covered with contrasting black lace.

"Let me get this straight. You've got a pair of boobs staring you in the face and you want to talk about my bra?"

"I'm working up to it." I hadn't given any thought to being in this situation. The mixture of emotions and urges was overwhelming, not to mention the dichotomy between my desire to touch her and what I thought was best for her in the situation.

"I should take it off just to force you to focus," she quipped.

"I think we both know that I'm not having any trouble with my focus," I said with a smirk.

"Well, let me help you along then." She picked up my hands and held them to her breasts. If I weren't already blushing, the action surely would have triggered one. Instead, I just turned a few shades redder while my eyes popped out of my head. "Close your eyes, and keep them closed," she instructed.

I did as she told me, hoping it would make me feel a little less awkward. Her hands moved away from mine, and I was left half-cupping her breasts, feeling exceptionally embarrassed and anxious but trying to pretend I was neither.

"Just breathe and feel. Trust your instincts."

I internalized her words and did my best to apply them to the situation. I thought about her bra and how pretty she looked. I thought about what Mike had done to her, and about how open, giving and brave she was in spite of it. I thought about how exposed she was and the trust she must have placed in me to be so vulnerable with me. Suddenly, I knew my touch should be soft and reverent; I wanted it to show her she was safe with me and that I deserved her trust.

I tentatively rounded my fingers. My hands slipped along the fabric of her bra without any resistance. I remembered Bella's words about my hands on a woman's body and how they should be sure if touching her was something I wanted. I pushed the uncertainty and hesitation out of my mind and focused only on the sensations, taking both breasts completely into my hands. A quiet gasp left Bella's lips, assuring me I'd used the right pressure with my touch.

The weight of her breasts in my hands was arousing, making it easy to understand the enjoyment of the diversion. I pressed my palms a little more firmly against each breast to see if I could feel her nipples, but the fabric was too thick. I heard a quiet hum of approval from Bella and chanced a peek at her. Her eyes were closed and her head was tipped back slightly. I assumed it was in pleasure, if the expectant expression on her face was any indication.

I experimented with pressure and hold, tightening my grip tiny bits at a time while working her flesh between my palm and fingers. I could hear her breathing change with each modification but I wasn't sure if it indicated pleasure or something else.

"Good?" I asked, hoping she'd reveal whether my touch was pleasurable. "I'm not pushing too far or too fast?"

"No-o-o," she answered. Her reply was breathy and drawn out.

I closed my eyes and let my thumbs trace the edge of her bra, skirting the lace. I was just short of trembling when she pressed her breasts against my hands, my mind racing ahead of my body when the warmth of her skin bathed my fingertips. Just like I wanted more each time she kissed me, I wanted more of her warmth, too. That was how libido worked I supposed - innocent caresses that subtly became sensual, a building of want intensified by the repression of one's desires. In any case, I was glad that the process was innate to me.

Bella's body language suggested she was enjoying what I was doing, and I began to wonder what the next step would be if this were a natural situation. Was this a case like kissing, where I should wait for my partner to indicate what she'd like, or should I take it upon myself to move forward? I wanted to tread carefully tonight, so I decided to come right out and ask.

"If I wanted our current activity to progress, how would I go about determining if my partner was agreeable?"

"By not asking if progressing your activity was agreeable," she noted with a giggle. "You need to loosen up, Edward. Let yourself get into what you're doing. When you do, your next move will be obvious."

"Nothing is ever obvious to me."

"What do you think your next move should be?"

"I wasn't sure if I should wait for you to take your bra off or do it myself?"

"You can move ahead without taking any clothing off by simply slipping a finger underneath the fabric," she suggested. "Your move doesn't have to be drastic to make progress. Just be logical and think in baby steps, unless you're in a big rush, that is. I don't want to leave you with the impression that there has to be boob touching every time you get with a girl, but it's a nice appetizer to the main course, if you get my drift."

I didn't draw the same parallels as Bella did between my own enjoyment and that of my partner. "Isn't it simply a means to an end?"

"Sometimes feeling a girl up is the end. I'm sorry to keep going back to the baseball idioms, but you're not going to score a home run every time you're up to bat. Yes, you're a good looking guy, and yes, you're going to find the occasional slut or party girl that is willing to fuck you, no questions asked, but more often than not you're going to need to do a little bit of leg work to get into a girl's pants. My point about boobs is that if you learn to enjoy them, then the journey won't seem like a chore."

"I wasn't looking at like a chore, more of a step in the whole process, but I see your point." I realized I was still palming her breasts, so I dropped my hands feeling flustered all over again. "Sorry."

"Job hazard," she joked.

"Are you feeling better?" She'd given no indication that our activities were too much for her to handle, but I knew the timing of it was poor. I needed a verbal confirmation to prevent myself from feeling guilty for taking her up on what she offered.

"Yeah, I am. I owe you huge for saving me tonight, not just from Mike but from myself, too. Thank you." She dropped her eyes away from my face as she spoke. I didn't want her to spend even a moment of time feeling bad about what Mike had done. I brought my hand to her cheek and cupped it so she'd look at me, and stroked her cheekbone with my thumb when she did.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad I was there, in both cases. I've truly missed you the last couple of weeks." I would have given almost anything to punch Mike again for the tears I saw in Bella's eyes. Dickhead.

We floundered a little trying to redress, tangling arms and knocking heads. We always seemed to move in the same direction, like we were sharing a brain or something. I was busy sneaking one last peek at Bella's chest when she grabbed my t-shirt.

"Can I borrow it to protect me from the Mike nightmares?"

I nodded, pulling my sweater over my head. "Sure, but I hope you're not insulted if I don't borrow your tank top. Pink really isn't my color."

She was still giggling when she closed the door behind me.

A/N: WhiteKnightWard dashed in on his silver Volvo steed (Thank you for that one, HockeyChick10) and he has apparently refused to leave. Do we like this Edward? Still swooning?

Did Bella drag her feet too much? Did her reasoning make sense? Did she go far enough with her apology? Do you like that Bella isn't hiding her feelings any longer? Do you think Edward is picking up on the differences?

There seems to be a change in both of them. Is it enough to get them past their past difficulties? How does their future look?

Leave me a review and let me know what you think.