Writeontime is my beta. She's awesome and really generous. Ciaobella27 and contreplongee read this and told me it was alright. They're really pretty. I'm very thankful to all of them, and all of you.

I don't own Twilight.

"Is this okay?" Angela asks me.

The booth we're standing next to looks fine. I nod and slide in, doing a quick scan of the room. It's mostly empty, and I'm not sure how busy a place like this gets. I've never been to this bar before. It's not really my scene, and I don't think it's Angela's scene, either. But they serve alcohol, and the music is loud, and we've both learned not to be too picky when we're back home.

"I can't drink," she says with a frown.

"Can't one of your brothers pick us up?"

"I guess… We'll see. Right now I just want to talk. It's been a long time since we actually sat down and had a conversation."

"I know. It's my fault. How are you? How are things with Ben?" I ask her.

"Things with Ben… I don't know, Bella. We've been together for so long, and we're fine, but I know he wonders what I wonder all the time—maybe there's something better out there."

"Probably not. I mean, temporarily, yes, because beginnings are the best, but ultimately, you'll end up at the same place you are now."

"What happened to my best friend, the optimist?" She smiles, making me smile back and shrug.

"I don't know. I just think maybe our expectations should be more realistic. Sometimes this is as good as it gets."

"You've been back in Forks for a week, Bella. Don't tell me you've let them break your spirit already."

"No, it was already in pieces, but they just stomped all over them and now the pieces are just too small to put back together."

"Oh Bella…"

I shake my head, laughing at Angela's expression. "I'm kidding. I was just being really dramatic. I'm fine."

She scrunches up her face, not sure whether or not she wants to believe me, but I roll my eyes and she laughs.

"I'm going to go get us some drinks. Beer okay?"

"Do I want to try the wine here?"

"Absolutely not."

I'm so glad she's back, even if it's only for a couple of days. Just knowing that there's someone I can talk to and hang out with living a few minutes away makes me not want to spend my days in bed. She makes me run with her in the morning, and then we end up at the diner for breakfast, or just coffee. People look at us like we're crazy, or maybe they're just staring because it's me. It doesn't matter, though, because I love spending time with Angela, and I'm willing to leave the house if it means having someone to talk to. But we haven't really talked yet, and I know that we're here tonight because she has a lot of questions, and I promised to give her answers. I'd just rather do that drunk. Sobriety can be depressing, especially when you're asked to be sober when talking about something you'd rather forget. I just hope she keeps the questions about the last ten months to a minimum.

"So ask me anything," I tell her once I'm halfway through my first drink.

"You know what I want to know."

"No, I really don't."

"Come on," she says.

"Angela. I have no idea."

"Then I have to get drunk first."

"Please, we talk about everything. So… spill. Tell me what you want to know."

"Okay." Her grin is big and wicked and it makes me laugh. "Tell me what it was like being acquainted with…"—she clears her throat and gets all serious—"with the balls that led the free world."

We're laughing like teenagers who just shared an intimate secret that's pretty embarrassing, but also really exciting to share.

"It wasn't like that!"

She looks at me like 'girl, please, it was so like that'.

"Okay, well it was obviously like that, but balls are disgusting. I mostly just ignored them."

"You're so funny. I missed your laugh."

"Me too," I admit.

"So… I mean, I tried not to read about it, or listen to the stories, but… how did it start?" she asks. I want to tell Angela that I don't believe her, and that I know she loves gossip and she definitely knows all the details that are available to the public, but I let it go. She's my friend, and of course she followed the story.

"Okay, um, where do I start? I'd met him maybe twice, and he was really nice. For the most part, I felt a sense of utter shock that the President of the United States had acknowledged my existence. Then one day we sort of ran into each other and he almost… I don't know, cornered me. He touched my face. It was…"

"Did you die?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, you know how good-looking he is. And that voice… He's also much taller in person, and he was, like, standing over me. I was like 'holy shit! This is the President'. I had no idea why he was flirting like he was, so like an idiot, I asked. And he told me he'd noticed me, and started saying I'm beautiful, I have such a sweet face, he asked around and I do such a great job…"

Angela rests her chin on her hand and listens, completely entranced. "Wow." She doesn't say it out loud, but that's the word her lips form, and it excites me, the way she's staring and listening. It makes me want to say more, reveal more secrets.

"Yeah," I continue, "I'm pretty sure he didn't ask anyone anything, but who cares? I was eating up all of his compliments and loving it."

"So he started flirting with you?" I notice that she hasn't even had a sip of her beer.

"Yeah. Everyone loves to spin it and say I was the one seducing him. Sure. I mean, that makes sense. He was the President. Do you really think interns have any access to him? He had to make himself accessible. And he did."

Angela nods. I don't know why talking about this is so easy right now. I used to dread it and make myself sick when I had to testify, but this is so different. It's easy, because it's Angela, and it's fun, because I like to talk, and what I'm saying is clearly entertaining her. It feels good.

"Anyway, it turned into an obsession. Almost like a game," I explain. "I just wanted to see him again, and he was obviously never around. But there was some event that we were allowed to attend, and he was going to make an appearance. Someone high up who'd been around forever was retiring. By then, I had told Jasper and Alice about how he was flirting with me. It became this big joke among us. Alice let me borrow a dress and told me I'd look cute in it. I mean, you've seen the pictures, I did look cute in it, but I was just definitely asking for trouble. I just wanted him to notice me again. I didn't think anything would ever happen. I mean, he was who he was, and he was married…"

"So he'd only touched your face at that point?" she interrupts.

"Yes. Just a few glances here and there, a word or two, a question. And I was… gone. I can't explain it. One second I was crying over the breakup with Jasper, and I had just found out that he was already dating someone, and then the next… I was sitting around waiting for the President to smile at me. That's really all I wanted. Like I said, it was like a game."

"What made you tell Jasper? I'm just curious… I don't think I would have called Ben if the same thing had happened to me."

"At the beginning, I wanted to call him to make him jealous, but by the time I actually picked up the phone and called, I was just desperate. I'd trust Jasper with my life, and he was in D.C. It's funny that back then, I was so discreet about things; I wouldn't discuss any of this on the phone, or in emails, so I asked him if we could meet up. I was just really confused and excited, especially after the face-touching incident. I wanted to talk to a friend, and I really missed him. And fine, I wanted to make him just a little jealous, and who wouldn't be jealous of the President?"

"Honestly," Angela says, shaking her head back and forth, looking a little dazed, "I don't know how I would have reacted to the President flirting with me. Who doesn't want that?"

"Apparently only whores and home wreckers want it. You know, if I had a penny for every one of those hypocrites who say they would have ignored him or, better yet, reported him for harassment…"

"Exactly."

"Anyway, so that day—the day of the retirement thing—he just showed up for a second, took some pictures, and left. I ended up having to work late, because we'd wasted so much time earlier. I was walking to my boss's office, and Hudson came running down the hall."

"He was such a cute puppy," Angela comments. I can almost see her sitting on her white couch, flipping through the pages of People, smiling at pictures of Hudson and the First Lady and the kids.

"Yeah, but he was huge, at least for a puppy."

"And you hate dogs."

"I don't hate dogs, they just smell bad. Anyway, Hudson made me nervous and managed to knock me to the ground, and next thing I knew, he was there, apologizing. Ten minutes later, we were making out against a wall."

"Jesus."

"Yeah."

We stop talking and I look around the room again. It's busier than it was when we first arrived. There is a group of guys who look like they'd be around our age standing by the bar, their backs to us. Angela notices me watching them and playfully kicks my leg under the table.

"Sure, they look decent from this angle, but you probably don't want to see what they look like," she says.

"Right?" I giggle.

"Look at you, interested in local boys."

"I'm not. I'm just surprised that I didn't notice such a big group walk in. I tend to notice these things."

"Yeah, neither did I."

"I think I need another drink," I tell Angela.

"Another beer? Or do you want to try something new?"

"Surprise me."

Angela returns with very pink drinks that taste like candy. Disgusting, but we drink them anyway, and the conversation turns back to her and Ben and their relationship. She starts asking me more questions when she's obviously very buzzed, leaning forward and whispering, until I convince her to speak up.

"I can't believe I'm asking this, but… how was it? You know me, he's like, Brad Pitt and George Clooney and—"

"He's not that good-looking," I tell her, and it's a lie, but objectively, it's also true. "But for a President, yeah. I don't know. It's not even about looks. It's his voice. He has this charm… I can't explain. You know as a rule I dislike conservatives, and working there was difficult enough, but it didn't matter when he was whispering things to me…"

"Oh God."

I nod. "Yeah, it was ridiculous. He kept telling me how pretty I looked in that dress. I had the prettiest eyes. He said he thought about them all the time, and my smile. It was creepy, but hot."

"Wow. So that's how it all started…"

"Yeah, you can read all of this. I mean, you probably know he had to cover my mouth because I was trying not to scream during my orgasm. It was fun telling that story to the grand jury. Good times."

"That first time?" she asks.

"Yeah."

"What were you two doing?"

"Dude, he's huge. And you know how I feel about frottage."

"Bella…" And we're laughing again, and for a second my heart stops, because I remember laughing about all of this before, with someone I really trusted, and I want to take back all of my words right now, until I realize it's just Angela, and none of this is a secret anymore. It's all stuff everyone knows. Information you can get at the click of a button. Words I've had to repeat to strangers, out loud, over and over again.

"I can't believe we're discussing this here," I tell her.

"There's no one around, and the music is pretty loud."

"I know."

"Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"I have more questions," Angela confesses.

"Okay…"

"Were you telling the truth when you said you didn't have sex with him?"

"Yeah."

"Why not?" she wants to know.

"Um, it just never happened. I think because he'd never risk it. He never let it happen."

"Huh."

"It was like… I'm so powerful, I'm with the President of the United States and he's obsessed with me, but I actually had no power at all. He made all the decisions. I just took whatever I could."

"Do you regret it?"

"I regret telling Alice," I admit.

"Not the affair?"

"What do you want me to say? Yes, I regret having an affair with a married man? I feel terribly guilty? I can't. It ended fairly amicably, and there were no hard feelings. His wife didn't find out until the whole thing came out, so I never had to deal with any of that. I…"

"Don't tell me you think you got off easy," Angela says.

"No, definitely not, but I guess there are different things to regret. I regret being stupid enough to think this wouldn't come out. But then again, he certainly wasn't the first politician to have an affair while in office. And at the time, I didn't care. It was… it felt fantastic."

"You've always been able to separate emotions from sex."

"Me? Hardly."

"During your break ups with Jasper… In this situation…"

"I was always in love with Jasper. Why do you think I kept going back for more?"

"Are you still?" she asks.

"No. D.C. was a catastrophe. It was over the second he left. I was sad because I missed him, but knew we weren't in love anymore."

"You've been staying with him in New York, right?"

"Yes. I mean, he was away for the most part, but I was staying at one of their apartments. And since I know you're going to ask, yes, I was sleeping with him. And it wasn't about love, so I guess you're right, to some extent."

"I'll never know how to separate the two," Angela tells me. "It's always been Ben."

"You sound like my mother now."

"How is she doing?"

"Fine. She mostly avoids me, and I avoid her. We get along pretty well."

"And your dad?"

"I hardly ever see him. I eat late, and he's asleep by then."

"They don't make you have dinner with them?" she asks with a smile.

"No, those days are over. They know better."

"I wish I didn't have to go back tomorrow."

"Me too."

"You should come down for a weekend."

"I will," I promise.

It's funny how we waited so long to have this conversation. I think about our conversations these past few days, and have trouble remembering what we discussed. I guess we discussed everything that wasn't important. We talked about movies, celebrities, hair, people we knew in high school, diets, exercise, and books, but not about me, or Ben, or our parents, or our lives. Maybe she was trying to distract me, or maybe she felt strange asking me about my life. I know I feel strange asking Angela about her life with Ben. I've always felt uncomfortable discussing anything too personal, and I realize Angela is the same way. I'm surprised we're actually talking now, but I don't mind it at all. And the way she looks at me as she's describing her feelings towards Ben and their relationship, I can tell she has been desperate to talk to someone. So I let her talk, and I shrug a lot, and try to offer her some advice, but my advice seems to depress her.

"I'm getting the next round, what would you like?"

"No, sit, don't worry about it," she insists. "The bartender's a jerk, but we're old buddies by now."

I shrug and slide over a twenty-dollar bill, which Angela accepts. I watch her stumble towards the bar, laughing, because she's completely wasted after just two drinks. The guys we had been staring at earlier turn and notice her, and that's when I notice them. One of them is very tall, and I remember him from the party last summer. And of course, he's there with his friend, whose smile is big and boyish, looking at Angela like he's concerned, like he won't let her fall or do anything silly. Angela turns to me and I know she's asking me what I want, so I shrug and mouth 'anything', hoping that she gets it and turns back around. The men see me sitting here, and they're talking, and there's a lot of laughter. And a few look back, and there's more laughter, and the tall one slaps Edward on the back. Edward just shakes his head and smiles. The men get loud and obnoxious, all talking to Edward at once. And I know what the tall guy said. And I know what all the men now know. And I just want to get out of here, but I can't. Walking out right now would be the lamest thing I could do. So when their short, fat friend flashes me a disgusting smile, I flash one right back. Fuck you, you little loser. You're terrified now. That's not what you were expecting.

Angela isn't stupid, even when she's drunk. She apologizes for drawing attention to me, and assures me that they're all idiots, and I shouldn't care. She doesn't know about Edward, so I tell her.

"Wait, what? How come you never told me this?"

"I don't know, do I call you every time I hook up with someone?"

"No, but this is big!"

"Um, I've had bigger."

She laughs and shakes her head. "Impossible. He's the most perfect, beautiful, perfect, wonderful, perfect lover any woman could ever dream of!"

"I'm the one who slept with him, Angela, unless you've got something you want to tell me."

"I wish." She sighs. "Bella, don't you remember him back when we were in school? He was so cute. Everyone would follow him around. He was God-like."

"How did he manage not to develop a massive ego?"

"Edward Cullen had the biggest ego! But I guess he grew up. I don't know why he's back here, but my dad says he's wonderful with the kids. And everyone—"

"Loves him. Got it."

"I can't believe you had sex with Edward Cullen!"

"Why is this such a big deal? He's hot, I won't deny that, but he's just…"

"Come on," Angela says. "If you tell me he wasn't great in bed, I'll never believe another word that comes out of your mouth."

"He was good! It was good, but I don't know. My head was in a strange place back then, so who knows? He was sweet… Like, I think he handed me a bottle of water and tucked me in."

"Awww. My heart! I would've passed out."

"I was too busy judging him for living with his parents. And judging myself for sleeping in his big boy bed."

"I can't believe this! This is bigger than—"

"Don't say it. Anyway, his friends keep staring at us," I tell her. "Maybe we should leave."

"So you think he told them? He's too much of a gentleman to do that."

"He's a guy. He told them. You're giving him too much credit."

"Huh. Why is Emmett staring at you like that?" she asks.

"Who's Emmett?"

"His brother. The tall one. He was our year. Have you just wiped every memory of Forks from your head?"

"Oh, that's his brother? He was there at the party where we met. Edward had to talk to him before we left."

"I'm sure Edward didn't tell anyone anything," Angela says. And she looks like she's desperate to believe what she's telling me. "It's Emmett. He's the one who'd do something like that."

"Well, if Emmett lives at home like his brother, he probably had a lot to tell. I wasn't particularly quiet that night."

"You're killing me, Bella. Describe Edward Cullen to me."

So I do just that. I tell her about that night, at least what I can remember from that night. Angela covers her mouth with both her hands when she figures out that that's the night when the stupid picture was taken. She's seen it so many times that she describes exactly what I was wearing, and how messy my hair was. I hate that picture. Not because I look like a total bitch, but because it caused so much drama for my parents. They decided that Jake was at fault for the picture ending up in the hands of the media. And to blame Jake and Uncle Billy was unfair, but Mom and Dad wouldn't listen to reason. They cut them out of their lives, and at the time, I was too busy with my own problems to care. But I know how much they must miss the Blacks.

The picture itself meant nothing, but it was the most recent one taken of me when the scandal broke out, and I was making lewd gestures at the camera, and my jeans were cut so low, and my eyes gave away everything I'd done that night. I'd smoked things and I'd had so much to drink. It probably embarrassed my parents. It definitely embarrassed me, even though my friends thought it was funny. Jasper laughed and laughed, but I know he would be mortified if his parents and the entire world saw him in that state. But in the grand scheme of things, the picture was nothing, and now there's a copy of it hanging in Jasper's room, which we stare at and joke about. Angela doesn't think it's funny, and looks at me like I'm crazy when I tell her this. I shrug and say it was a great angle. I looked hot. She laughs, but I think she thinks I've lost my mind. I distract her with descriptions of Edward's body, and she's giggling again, her eyes wide and her drink forgotten. People just want to hear stories about sex. They love it so much. You can always count on that. It makes my mind work extra fast as I tell these stories and think about how I can capitalize on them at the same time. I'd never… but then why not? I'm so tired from talking, and my jaw hurts by the time we're leaving the bar. I can't help but make eye contact with Edward Cullen as I walk by him, and his mouth opens, and he moves towards me, but I keep on walking, and he's quick to act like he never even noticed me. I don't know what I want more right now. Do I want to destroy his stupid, perfect reputation? Or do I want him to use it to save me from this life? Mostly, I just want to fuck him again, but I know that given the circumstances, I can just dream on. It's not going to happen.

I know you guys wanted to learn a little more about Bella's affair, so I hope this is enough for now. Thanks for sticking around. You guys rock, really.

Let me know what you think.

:)