Writeontime and ciaobella27 are awesome.

I don't own Twilight.

You never actually think about what your parents do once you're gone. You assume they go to work, cook, clean, fish once in a while, maybe watch a lot of television. I don't remember what they did when I was in high school, and once I took off for college, I never bothered to ask. Everything was always "good," except when it was just "fine," and I never asked for them to elaborate. Now that I'm back, I can see that they have lives. Monday nights they play poker with a few other couples. Thursday nights they go out to dinner, and Mom wears something cute. They go grocery shopping on Saturdays and run errands together. She talks about her book club a lot, but I'm not sure when it meets.

It's good to have the house all to myself, even if I find it just a little scary. It makes these noises that make me jump, and everything creaks. I don't remember being alone in this house too often before I left, and I wonder if it scared me back then, or if you don't tend to notice these things when you're alone, but not alone. When your mind is full of things to distract you—things that you actually want to think about, dream about, fantasize about—you're never really alone. But when it's full of things you want gone, and you're all by yourself with those thoughts and memories that just won't leave, you hear things that you probably wouldn't have heard. They scare you, but you'd rather focus on them than your usual thoughts, so you end up sitting on the couch, completely paranoid, feeling like you're losing your mind.

And when the phone rings, you really jump. And then you have to catch your breath as you walk over to pick it up.

"Hello?"

"Bella?" The voice is familiar, but I can't quite…

"Jake?"

"It's good to hear your voice, Bella. I missed you."

"I missed you, too," I tell him. I really did—he was like my little brother, and my only friend when we moved here, even though he was just an annoying kid who followed me around until a girl his own age surprised him with a kiss. Then I was just a distant memory. I smile, because it was so silly how hurt I was at the time, especially since I was the one who had been wishing that he'd go away.

"I heard you were back and figured I'd call tonight since it's poker night."

"How do you know about poker night?"

"Dad used to play, too," he explains.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I'm really sorry about that, Jake. I told them a thousand times that it wasn't your fault…"

"You're not mad at me?" he asks.

"No, I'm not, and I feel really bad—"

"Bella, Dad's not handling this well. He really misses your parents, especially Charlie."

I let out a sound that's something between a groan and an "ugh" because I don't know what to tell him. He knows how stubborn my parents are.

"Maybe you could talk to them?" Jake continues. "Maybe if they know you've forgiven me…"

"They already know that I'm not mad at you. None of this was your fault. They're just embarrassed because everyone saw that stupid picture. Believe me, Jake, I don't care. I've had to talk about my vagina and getting spanked in front of people, and everyone knows I give good head. If anything, every time that picture is used somewhere, I feel like I'm saying "fuck you" to the world. So thank you, you did me a favor."

"Shit, Bella, I never thought about how much this sucks for you."

"Um, really?"

"I guess I've had my mind on my dad and the fight. Are you doing alright?" he asks.

"I'm fine."

"I didn't think you'd come back to Forks."

"I know, right? But it's been okay so far. Angela was here, and we were hanging out."

"Yeah, I heard you guys were jogging the other day," he says with a laugh. "Sam told me he was about to drive into a tree when he saw you. Bet you looked good."

"Sam?"

"Sam Uley. You met him last year. Tall guy… Never mind."

"Yeah, sorry, I don't remember."

There's a moment of almost-awkward silence before Jake speaks again. "Hey, how about I pick you up tomorrow and we can spend the day together?"

"I don't know about that, Jake…" It's not that I don't want to spend time with him, but I know that when Jake says "spend the day together" he really means that, and I'm not sure I want to commit to spending an entire day with Jake. He's loud and obnoxious, his friends are annoying, and from what I've heard from my parents, he no longer smokes or drinks, so it would be too many hours spent sober with someone who always manages to infuriate me.

"Why not?" he asks.

The excuses come pouring out of me, but they're pretty lame, and I don't feel like trying any harder than the half-truth. "I was lazy today and didn't go for a run. I was thinking of doing that in the morning, and then—"

"Come on, I'll pick you up after your run."

"I need to come home and shower."

"Fine, after your shower, then. Call me and let me know whenever you're ready."

See? He never lets anything go.

"Jake, I don't know about spending the whole day together."

He begins to protest, and I'm seventeen again, listening to an annoying fifteen-year-old whine, whine, whine until I have to give in. While he's telling me about this place he knows in Port Angeles that I'll love, it occurs to me that I can get Jake to join me tomorrow morning. I chickened out today because I was too nervous to go by myself. I need someone else with me.

"Actually," I start, "come with me in the morning. I don't want to run alone around town, and I wanted to try running at the high school, but I don't want to run alone there, either."

"Are you even allowed to do that?"

"Apparently it's no big deal."

"I don't run, Bella."

"Um, you've got a pretty sick body, I bet you work out a lot." And my voice is low, and it's the voice that boys like. I expect him to see right through what I'm doing, but I guess he's just a guy.

"Not really," he says, and it's a lie, and he's cute trying to impress me. "I mostly just lift weights, but I guess I could run with you."

"Jake, you're the best."

"Okay, I gotta go, but we'll talk tomorrow. I'll pick you up at eight?"

"That sounds fine."

He's worried about running into my parents while picking me up, but I tell him not to worry. He hangs up and I take a deep breath. Sometimes I make plans with someone because I want to see someone else. Am I using Jake? Maybe, probably, but he's using me, too. He admitted that he never once thought of how I was doing. Either he doesn't care, or he's just too selfish to let his mind wander there, to think about how his friend is handling a difficult situation. Not that I expected him to; Jake wouldn't be Jake then. He's always thinking about how things affect him, his life, his family. I remember when I told him I was going on a date with some kid, junior year. Jake was so jealous. I told him I'd never go out with him, so it shouldn't matter who I dated. He said he'd rather I stay alone forever than have any relationship outside of our own. I responded with, "what relationship?" and he flipped out. Always a little competitive, always a little jealous, always a little delusional.

Of course he didn't call to apologize, and as soon as he heard that I wasn't angry, he let me know exactly why he was calling. And I get it, I really do. If there was anything I could do to make things right again between my parents and Uncle Billy, I'd do it—but I brought it up twice this week, and it only caused more anger and silence among the three of us. Something must have happened, words must have been exchanged, and Jake probably doesn't know the whole story. I want to get to the bottom of it, but right now I need to focus on fixing things with my own family. I don't know where to start. My own apologies for what happened and what I put them through? I think I've told them "I'm sorry" so many times that I can't bring myself to say it anymore. And they never apologized. And I don't think they realize that I expect an apology, but I do, and if they can't see what they did wrong, I don't know what to do.

Last night Mom told me to apologize to Dad for my behavior, and I shouted a lot of things, but mostly "apologize for what?" For being an asshole in response to him being a dick? No. She told me I needed to be more humble, more grateful, kinder to my father. I reminded her of how he pretended I didn't exist for weeks, and how he hasn't said a kind word to me since I got back. She had nothing to say. Her eyes turned red and her chin began to tremble, and I know the look I gave her was one of disgust, because I'm sick and tired of her constant tears, but I gave it anyway, and all it did was make the tears flow sooner, faster, and I became angrier, and left the room.

One thing you never want to hear is that you need to apologize to someone for something you didn't really do, or that you did but don't feel bad about. Early on when the story broke, one of the attorneys at the firm that was representing me told me to apologize to the country for my actions. I needed to be likable, I needed to show a different side of myself. She was promptly taken off my team. Apologize for what? I absolutely did not owe the public any apologies. It was none of their business. If they were stupid enough to elect someone who was stupid enough to forget about family and God and morals and values and his church, that was their problem. I apologized to the people who mattered—the person who mattered. It was a pretty lame apology, but I had to do it. It was done privately, just a simple note, and I know she received it, even if she never acknowledged my apology. I had never expected her to.

She was just so amazing throughout the whole ordeal. I know it wasn't because she cared about me—she probably wanted me dead—but she never uttered a word publicly, she never allowed anyone to bring it up, or bash me in front of her. She could have dealt with everything in so many different ways. And I appreciate that she didn't play the sad victim, making me look like the devil, but then… she didn't have to. Everyone else did it for her, and sometimes, sometimes I really wish she got angry, went on Oprah, blamed me for what happened to her marriage, shed some tears, anything. There were times when I really wanted to hate her, but I was always in awe of her, because she handled everything with such dignity and grace. And when people began to talk about her, about the marriage being a sham, or how she let this happen because she clearly didn't care enough about her husband, I wanted to find her and say, "See? You can't win." But, yeah, imagine ever having to face her. I don't know if I could. I mean, I had faced her plenty of times during my time at the White House, but she didn't know, so it was easy. Now? I would probably throw up and cry and apologize again.

But apologize for what? My note didn't say, "I'm sorry I went down on your husband and let him finger me in the Oval Office." I didn't say, "I'm sorry I almost had sex with your husband at Blair House." I apologized for the consequences of my actions, so maybe it was stupid. Maybe it wasn't my place to apologize. I mean, I'm not the one who made vows, who had any obligations towards her. But I believe—and this could be the stupidest thing I've ever thought or said—I really think that as a human being, and as a woman, I had an obligation not to lay a finger on someone else's husband. And I knew this back then, but oh man, it was so exciting. And I'd love to say that I'd do everything differently if I could go back in time, but the things I felt, the things he said and did… I don't know if I'd be able to stop myself. If I could do it all over again and not get caught? I'd probably do it all over again. So I guess the apology was bullshit, except for the part where I apologized for the embarrassment I caused her. What a crap apology. But how do you apologize for the rest? It wouldn't be honest. So then what's the point?

It's kind of like Edward's apology. He did what he did, he'd probably laugh like that again, but he felt he had to say something. I believe that I'm a good person, on some level, sometimes, and I felt that I had to reach out to her to prove that to myself. I couldn't just sit back and say nothing, especially when I truly felt bad about everything she went through. I also wanted to feel better about myself, and knew that it was the right thing to do. I don't think Edward's apology came from a different place. He probably came to me because he wants to be a good guy, and wants to be able to say he did the right thing. So maybe we're not that different, but we're both very different from Jake. I don't know much about Edward, but it seems like he's a decent person, or at the very least, he wants to be. I know Jake is a decent person, but he's also incredibly selfish. I can be pretty selfish, but at least I try. Jake doesn't. It's him, him, him. Not the best kind of friend to have. As long as you're the person that he wants you to be, Jake will do anything for you. Otherwise, you've lost a friend—if he ever really was a friend to begin with. If I hang out with him tomorrow and tell him I can't help mend the relationship between Uncle Billy and my parents, I'll never hear from him again. So maybe I'll stall, because it's pretty lonely here, and Jake can be fun. Or maybe I'll make a new friend, if I'm lucky, if he's nice enough, if I'm at the right place at the right time, if he's willing to be seen with me.

XxXxX

Stalling works, I guess. I promised Jake that I'd try my best, but told him not to get his hopes up. I stalled and flirted, just a little. And when he showed signs of anger and impatience, my hand was on his thigh and my smile was slow and pretty, and a pinch of his cheek brought him back from wherever my smile had sent him, and he agreed with me—we would both work on it. That's when I asked why he had to do any work. Didn't Uncle Billy want to make up?

"Well, Charlie punched him."

"What?"

"Yeah, that's what I heard."

"What is it that you're not telling me?" I ask.

"I don't know what went down, Bella. I came home and Dad had a black eye. You know him, he doesn't say much."

"I'll find out from my mom."

Dad doesn't punch people. He's all about the law and non-violence—unless it's against animals. He seems to hate animals, but since it's not against the law to shoot them, he lets out his aggression against whatever happens to be in season. I say that if something comes after you and you need to defend yourself or the people you love, you should attack. Maybe Uncle Billy deserved it, or maybe my father is losing his mind.

There are two kids out on the field running around when Jake and I arrive at the school. Jake appears to be hesitant about trespassing on school property, but if anyone says anything, I can just say that Mr. Cullen said it would be okay for me to use their facilities. If the employees here love Edward Cullen half as much as my parents and Angela do, they will tell me to carry on. Or maybe they'll go find Edward to make sure I'm not lying, and then Edward will appear, and it will be awesome, but that's pretty unlikely. They'll either make us leave, or let us stay. I can't believe Jake is afraid of someone who works at the high school. What's the worst that could happen? They kick us out? Big deal.

"Your shorts are short," he tells me.

"My legs are long."

"That's true, but your shorts are still pretty short."

I pout. "They must have shrunk in the dryer."

"You grew an ass."

"You are an ass."

"It's time for you to pay me a compliment, not call me names."

"Eh, you're alright," I say with a shrug. "Take off your shirt and then we'll talk."

He's an idiot. His shirt comes off and I laugh and stare and laugh some more.

"Not bad."

"You've never seen better."

"Cocky; I like it. And no, I've never met anyone with muscles and a chest like yours, but that's not what I go for, little boy, so put your shirt back on."

It takes a few minutes to convince him that running around shirtless on school grounds is inappropriate. I start stretching and can tell that Jake is bored already. He says he'll be right back because he forgot something in the car. He returns with a water bottle, but sits around to show me that he's not interested in working out.

"Hey Bella, I'm going to go in and see a friend who works here. I saw his car parked on the other side of the building."

"Who's your friend?" I ask, but I'm pretty sure I already know.

"Edward Cullen. He's a teacher here."

I look down at my legs. They look long, and my skin looks soft, and they're not too skinny. I notice a bruise right above my left knee. It's nothing too ugly. I want Edward to notice my legs, maybe remember his hands on them that night, and how he kissed the insides of my thighs, and how he pretended that I was holding him hostage and not letting go when I wrapped them around him the next morning.

"You guys are friends?"

Jake nods. "Yeah, we play basketball together sometimes."

"Um, okay…"

"How do you know Edward?"

"I met him at the party last year," I remind him.

"That's right."

He doesn't make any jokes. There's no smirk, no laughter, nothing. Has he forgotten that I left with Edward? Has Edward never mentioned it? I guess that's not something that comes up in conversation, but it did at the bar the other night.

"You don't want to work out, do you?"

"No, not really," Jake replies.

"Let's just leave, then, unless you want to stop by and see Edward."

"I don't have to."

"I don't mind waiting, and we really have nothing better to do."

"You're right, but you're coming with me. Don't make me walk into that place by myself."

There are a few students walking around, and they all look miserable. Summer school must have just started, and I can't imagine what it's like to be in here instead of out there. I took summer classes in college once, but that was different—I wanted to do it. I wonder if Edward teaches any summer classes, or if he's here doing other teachery things.

"I went to high school with Edward," I tell Jake. "He was older than me, and you're younger than me, so it's strange that you guys know each other."

"We have a basketball league. It's pretty small."

"Like, a bunch of grown men playing basketball in Forks? Are there tournaments?"

"Nah, nothing serious like that."

"Who's better?" I ask. "You, or Edward Cullen?"

"Edward's pretty good. I'm more of a football guy myself."

It's such a small school. The hallways are familiar. The classrooms haven't changed much. It's warm in here, so I pull off my hoodie. I'm wearing my lucky college t-shirt. The dark purple has faded a bit, but I love it, and I wear it all the time. I love and miss my school—college was the best time of my life. I wonder where Edward went. I'll ask Jake later, or try to find out myself.

We finally find Edward standing in the middle of a classroom, scratching his head. Jake walks in, no longer hesitant and shy about being here, and I'm mostly forgotten in the doorway while they catch up. I notice Edward glancing over at me a few times, and the second Jake stops talking he walks over to me, a small smile on his face that's just waiting for an invitation from me to grow bigger, so I smile small myself, and it does, and then so does mine, and we're grinning, and crazy, crazy things are happening inside me.

"You know Bella," Jake says. "Bella, Edward."

Another smile, which makes me smile, and Jake's eyes narrow, and he knows. A roll of the eyes and a sigh from him make me shoot Jake a dirty look. Edward is too busy asking if I came here to use the track, and I nod, and explain to him that I didn't get a chance to run because Jake is being lame.

"Come on, Jake. You don't think you could keep up with her?"

"She's fast, Cullen. I don't think I want to try."

"What am I supposed to do now?" I ask. "Angela's gone, and you don't want to run with me. I'll have to go back to my pilates DVDs."

"You're a big girl, Bella, I'm sure you don't need me here to hold your hand every morning," Jake says. "And Edward's here, you could always stop by and say 'hello' once you're done."

"All sweaty and gross? I don't think Edward would want that."

"I don't mind sweaty, and I doubt you ever get gross," Edward says. And I think maybe he remembers me a little sweaty in his arms. That makes me smile and I feel my knees maybe getting a little weak, because I notice how tall he is, and I notice his arms, and I notice how perfectly his clothes fit, because they're not perfect at all. And I notice his hair, and how he looks like a little boy when he shows his teeth, and the sun in his eyes through the window bothers him, and his squint is pretty.

"You really shouldn't have said that," I say to Edward. "I'm going to stop by every day, and you'll get sick of me."

"We can alternate," he replies, pulling off his sweater. I look away, because I know better than to look at a pretty boy taking off his sweater. T-shirts ride up and things are revealed, like a little bit of skin, a little bit of hair. "You stop by tomorrow, and I'll come out the next day and watch you run."

"Watch me run? That's a little creepy. You can entertain me while I take a break."

"And then I'll watch you run."

"If you insist." I giggle. Giggle. How embarrassing. Then I blush. Blush. I don't blush, but I'm blushing hard right now. I'm being stupid. I need to stop. Or I need to flirt more, and then I need to have him, and then… and then…

Then I notice the faded letters on his t-shirt. "Oh, you went to Dartmouth?" I ask him. I manage to keep the surprise and little bit of excitement out of my voice—to an extent.

He looks down for a second, then looks up again, and into my eyes. "Just for a year. I returned to Washington after freshman year."

"Oh, how come?"

He shrugs. I think I probably shouldn't have asked that question.

"It didn't work out," he explains, adding a smile at the end.

"Bella, we've gotta get going." I nod at Jake, a little grateful, but also somewhat disappointed that we have to leave.

"It was good seeing you again." I hold out my hand and Edward shakes it. His face is kind; his hand is warm.

"I'll see you again tomorrow?" he asks. And it's all I need. Our conversation wasn't just a silly exchange that won't lead to anything. At the very least, we know that I'll be back tomorrow.

"Sure."

As always, thanks so much for reading.

I also want to thank JaimeArkin, who wrote a really awesome review of this story that was featured on the Indie Fic Pimp blog.

I love your reviews. They totally make my day. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter. Are you annoyed by Jacob... do you trust Edward? Does anyone miss Jasper? No? I didn't think so. Boo. Anyway, let me know. I'll have chapter 9 up shortly.