Thank you Writeontime and Ciaobella27.

I don't own Twilight.

When he stops kissing me and his body isn't pressed against mine, I tell him I'm cold and pull him to me.

"Let's go back inside," he says. And he kisses my forehead. Something about that makes me bury my face in his shirt, rubbing it against his chest while my fingers tug on the fabric they'd love to move under. I want to touch his skin so badly.

"No."

"No?"

"It's late, and I don't want to be rude to Emmett and go straight upstairs," I explain.

"We don't have to go straight upstairs."

"Do you really want to eat or hang out in the kitchen with your brother?"

I look up in time to see his smile and the quick, vigorous shake of his head that I think I like a lot.

"No."

"Well, it's drizzling. We should… I guess I should go home."

"You don't want to stay?" he asks me.

"I can't stay."

"You've stayed before."

"That was different."

He keeps shaking his head 'no' and I keep nodding 'yes'.

"Not really," he insists. His fingers are in my hair and I feel a tug when he wraps a strand around his finger and starts to play.

"Don't you have to work tomorrow?"

"I do."

"You have to get up early."

"I'll get up early with you next to me," he says.

"No, no, no. Be good."

His eyes are on the lock of hair he's been playing with, and he does the weirdest thing. He brushes the end over his lips, and then smiles.

"I'll be good," Edward promises.

"Liar," I whisper.

He kisses my nose. "Never."

He slides his hand under my shirt and it moves up until he's touching my breast. It's so cold. I almost don't want him to touch me under my bra, or maybe I want that, and then I want his mouth to warm up my skin right after. I want a lot, and it's the worst thing, but I want and want.

His hand moves again and it's the best surprise when it starts rubbing me between my legs. I kiss him and let him touch me. It's warm now. So warm. And I think the rain has stopped. I can't believe we're outside.

"We're outside."

"It's dark," he says, but his hand is on my hip now, and his mouth is leaving the most random kisses on my face and hair.

"I know, but… anyone can drive by, and you know, lights… I think I should go home."

"Okay. That's the third time you've said that, and I won't argue with you again."

Usually I'm disappointed when someone isn't begging me to stay, begging me to sleep with him, but I feel strangely calm now, and the feeling of rejection I'm waiting for doesn't come. I actually wait for it. I wait for it to take over, ruin this night, make me uglier, but I feel fine. I stretch up and pull him down, and kiss him on the cheek. We hold hands walking to his car. I grab his hand again once we're inside. Then I wrap my arms around his arm and don't let him use it. I'm so clingy. I should be cringing at myself, but he's warm, his shoulder is comfortable, and I like him.

"I thought you didn't like to cuddle," Edward says.

"I don't."

"I do."

"Well, this works out for you, then. Maybe you should break into my room later. I'd cuddle tonight. I'm feeling… I don't know. But I'd let you hold me."

"Just tonight?" he asks.

"I don't know. I can't be sure. But definitely tonight."

"I want you to let me hold you lots of nights."

This makes me rub my cheek against his shoulder.

"Tell me what to do, because I want to do whatever it takes," he says.

This makes me sit up, and I let go of his arm. I want to listen to his words, and I want to participate in this conversation using words of my own.

"Why?"

"Promise you won't interrupt?" he asks.

"Of course."

"The night we met, I overheard a conversation you were having with some kids, and I thought you were funny. Then you turned around, and you were really hot. You have no idea how difficult it is to meet new people here. I felt like I'd won something when you smiled at me and talked to me. By the end of the night I was pretty sure I really liked you, and that I wanted to see you again.

"You were still on my mind when I saw your face on the news and heard about everything. I was pretty surprised. It was you, but it really wasn't. I kept waiting to see you, the girl I'd met at the party, and I was disappointed when she didn't come out. Everything I saw, the way you were portrayed, was bizarre. I'd argue with Emmett about it. Eventually I gave up and admitted that I didn't actually know you.

"When we started getting bits and pieces of your initial testimony, I realized that people are complicated," he continues. "We react to the situations we find ourselves in, we adapt. Your expressions, the vibe you gave off were only a part of who you are. Not the best part, but that didn't mean I forgot how much you smiled and giggled at the party. I thought you were so passionate. The way you spoke and told stories, everything about you when we were alone. I don't know, Bella. Watching this happen to you really changed my perspective on… everything. And you were so brave. Your face broke my heart so—"

I'm sitting so close to the door right now, my arms wrapped around me. He's watching me, eyes wide open and honest, saying things I don't want to hear.

"Please stop. This isn't what I… I can't."

"I know you don't want to talk about it," he says, "but—"

"I asked you why you like me. This has nothing to do with that. Don't… I wasn't brave. I cried all the time. And that… that was me. My expressions, that vibe? Me. And it's not the best part, but it's the dominant part. I'm not passionate. I told you tonight how I feel nothing, I want nothing. I wasn't adapting, or reacting. I was angry because I was being humiliated, and I wasn't going to waste a single smile on any of you. It was a circus, and I was forced up there against my will. I'm not a freak show, and I'm not a charity case. You don't score extra points for hanging out with me."

"You won't let me finish."

"No? Then finish," I tell him. "My face broke your heart. I can't even…" I feel so humiliated again. I'll never be able to escape this. Everything is about this.

"All I meant to say was that anyone who bothered to look close enough saw a beautiful woman who—"

"Oh come on." He can't be serious. He's fucking with me.

"Fine," he says. "I bothered to look. I watched for months. Maybe it was because I'd met you right before it happened, but I knew that you didn't deserve it."

"I'm not going to thank you for giving me the benefit of the doubt, Edward. I don't care about that. I fucked up and I wasn't discreet. Everything else… none of it matters. And none of this has anything to do with why you want to spend time with me now. I'd rather just hear that you had a great time with me last summer, and want to do it again."

"You're right," he concedes. "It doesn't. I just wanted you to know all of this before I told you that the night I saw you at the diner with your parents, I wanted to turn around and look again. You smiled at me, and I saw that spark. I never want to stop looking at your face."

He's kidding, right?

"You're sweet, but…"

"And I don't just want to look at your face," he continues. "It's not enough to just watch you, or stare at you while you're talking to me. I want to touch it. I want to kiss it. I don't want anyone else doing those things. I knew this when I invited you over for breakfast, but I hadn't thought things through. I needed to think because I know this is temporary. You're not staying here. I want to leave next year, but I know you'll be gone before me. I also know that—"

"I keep cutting you off, and I apologize for that, but I have to say this—please don't explain why you had to think things through. I overreacted back there. I think maybe the fact that you took that time to think means this isn't just…I don't know."

"It's whatever you want it to be," he tells me. "If you want something casual, I'm not going to say no. Just don't tell me that we can only be friends. I won't settle for that. I need to touch you. I want to fuck you in ways you can't even begin to comprehend."

His hand finds my knee when he says that. I want to reach out and touch it.

"So you're saying that we can't be friends unless I sleep with you?"

He freaks out a little, opening and closing his mouth a few times before he finally speaks.

"No, of course not. That wasn't an ultimatum. I just didn't want to take no for an answer because I want more than your friendship."

"Me too." But I still don't know what that is. Even the idea of a relationship seems crazy, almost funny. Like it's all a huge joke, and he's going to start laughing any second now.

"This conversation is depressing," I sigh. "People don't have to define things the second they kiss, but I want to, and that's why I keep asking you to tell me why you want this. It's not fair to you, but you're a smart man, and I'm sure this is something you thought about before you made your decision to call me today. If this is just sex, I need to know. If you want to date me, I need to know. I don't want this grey area, and if you can't deal with that, it's okay."

"You get to decide, Bella."

"Is casual sex something you'd prefer? I mean, I'll be honest with you—I'm attracted to you, but that's not something I'm interested in."

And if that's all you want, I'll probably end up giving it to you, but not yet. You're lovely, but you're not Jasper. I'd trust him with my life. Who are you? I barely know you.

"I suggested something casual because… it's casual," he says. "No pressure. I know you're still going through a difficult time and have a lot to deal with."

"Yeah." I nod. This is the perfect time for Edward to put an arm around me, to hold me, and I think that maybe Mom was right—he's perfect. I sit like this, in his arms, and I talk.

"I don't like people. Sometimes I think really mean thoughts about you. I can't open up and give you things… I don't even know what that means. I'm really lonely. Even when I'm with the few friends I have left, or my ex-boyfriend… I'm lonely. He'll be holding me and we'll be together, but…" I shrug. "I'm never detached from us when I'm with you, and I don't want to be. You make me sit up and listen. I think maybe I want to listen for a long time. I've said more words to you this past week than I have all year, if you don't include the words I was forced to repeat. I really want to talk to you, but if I tell you everything…"

"I'm going to fall in love with you," he says.

He has no idea. If I talk to him and tell him my secrets and truths, he'll run so far away. So far. I shake my head. "No. The opposite."

"Don't be stupid. I don't know what else I can say to make you understand that I want to be with you. Who cares why? I've considered the ugliest possibilities. I've thought about you in the most unflattering ways. Even if you are as shallow, immoral, cold, and calculating as your worst critics say you are, I want to be here. You do something to me."

"I do something to you." I consider this. I like it. "You do something to me, too. I don't want to like you, but I can't help it."

"I know. I don't want to like you either," he says with a laugh.

We talk about things and kiss a few times before he starts the car. He drives fast at night, and it's a little scary. I don't tell him to slow down because I like the little bit of nausea, the heart palpitations. I like being on alert. He senses it, and drives a little faster.

"You drive fast."

"Yeah," he agrees, pulling up in front of the house. "I enjoy it when I can get away with it."

"Hmm… you like your thrills."

"I do."

"Do you have others? Anything else you're into? There's not much to do here."

"There's plenty."

"Sure there is," I say, patting him on the knee. I notice the single light that's on in the living room.

"Places aren't fun, Bella. It's what you choose to do that makes them fun."

"Make it fun for me."

It's late, and there's not much we can do sitting in his car outside my house, but I giggle at how quickly his seatbelt comes off. He's all over me, and I'm all squeals and laughter and stop, stop, stop. But he won't, so I deal with his kisses until I'm kissing back, and I like the innocence and how sweet he can be until he drags my hand to his lap, and then I just want to beg him to take me back to his room and rub that against me and put it in me and never let me go. I can't believe this right now. It's surreal. I'm a mess. I kiss him for the last time at least ten times before I finally shut the door and start walking towards the house. I wonder who's up, and I wonder if they saw or heard anything. I guess I'll never know, because the light goes off and the house is sitting there, quiet and dark.

Once inside, my first stop is the living room. There's a can of beer sitting on the coffee table, and it's half full and pretty cold. I turn on the television. Sports. I sit in Dad's chair. It's warm. Mom's spot on the couch is cold. He was sitting here. He probably heard us pull up. I wonder if he watched us. At least he didn't decide to hang around long enough to give me a lecture.

"Yeah, I'm back. Time to run off and avoid me," I mumble.

I lie down on the couch, my head resting on the pillow Mom clutches when she's watching something and gets all excited. I'm tired. The sounds coming from the TV are annoying, but I can't bring myself to reach out for the remote. I unbutton my jeans and try to get comfortable on the couch. It sucks that the tears come despite everything that happened today. I didn't expect them, and that makes it worse. It's hard to stay quiet, and since I'm down here and they're upstairs, I don't even try. Eventually this tires me out, but I'm too lazy to go upstairs. Later, when it's even quieter and somehow darker than it's ever been, I feel someone hovering over me. My eyes remain closed, but I know it's my father. He covers me with something, probably the throw that's always here.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, Bella?"

"Thanks," I manage to say. "It was so cold."

He says something, maybe, but he's mumbling.

"Dad, were you down here earlier when I got back?" I'm not sure where that came from, but I'm glad it made its way out of my mouth.

"Shhh, go back to sleep," he whispers.

"Did you see us in the car?"

"Bella, it's late, get some sleep."

"I'm awake now," I tell him, sitting up.

"I'm going back to bed."

"I didn't do it to piss you off. I don't do things to upset you."

"No one's upset." He sounds tired and bored. I feel like he's brushing me off.

"Don't lie to me. You hate me. You think I'm a whore."

It's so easy to get the words out when I can't see his face. If he doesn't answer, if he disappears, I'll pretend I never said them.

"Don't you ever say that again," he barks. I'm startled by the change in his voice.

"Why did you tell me to come here?"

"Bella…"

"You hate—"

"I don't want to hear that again. I'm not ready to talk about this right now. I'm going to bed."

"Listen, that's your problem," I tell him. "I need to talk about this."

I get up and walk over to where he's standing. I can actually see him now, but I talk anyway.

"Dad, I'm here. My money is running out, and I need to make some decisions soon. Am I staying? What are my options if I stay? Am I going back to school? You know I've been offered a book deal, but I won't even ask Peter for details without speaking to you first. I know you don't want me to do it, but if you don't talk to me, and choose to ignore me forever, what's the difference? I might as well go for it and take care of myself."

"Stop worrying about money, Bella."

"Money is important."

"You were dating that boy for a long time, and I thought you'd be getting married soon," he tells me. "I saved up for that. I saved up for a lot of things. You need money? You ask me. It's ultimately your choice, but now's not the time to bring attention to yourself again. I'm proud of you for being strong, but that doesn't make things better. I wanted more for you. Smartest person I know. Smartest person to graduate from Forks High School. To watch this happen… it broke my heart. Nothing's gonna change that. You broke my heart."

Why am I crying? If anything, I should be laughing at this man who thinks I would have let him spend a dime on my wedding. Like the Hales would approve of the type of wedding my family could afford. But I can't laugh, no matter how ridiculous he is. I wish I could.

"You didn't use your brains, Bella. You didn't think. If this had happened to anyone else, you'd be laughing too. I want you to be your very best. I want you to think long and hard about the choices you make. I don't know if you loved him, or what was going on in your head, but it was a bad decision. You're better than that. Look at you. You were a sweet girl. I was proud of you. At your graduation two years ago, I was the proudest man on earth. I talked about you and your accomplishments every chance I got. What did you go and do? I would've knocked some sense into you if I had any idea what you were up to."

"I fucked up," I shout. "I'm sorry. I fucked up. God, get over it. You're just embarrassed. I can go back to school if I want to, I can get a job and do things with my life that you could never even dream of, because you're so average. It kills you that you can't brag anymore, that you can't live vicariously through me. I thought you were about to say I'm better than that, that I shouldn't be having affairs with married men, that I'm worth more, but you can't even do that."

"No, I can't," he says, "because you've turned into someone I don't know. Every time I turned on the TV, I saw a stranger. I don't know what you're worth anymore. You have no respect for yourself. The second you're back in town you're already in some man's car, doing exactly what got you in this situation in the first place."

"Oh my God. Edward and I are seeing each other. He likes me."

"Cullen's a lot dumber than I thought."

"You don't think I deserve him. Of course not."

"Just don't mess up that kid's life."

"Say it," I sneer. "Tell me to my face that you think I'm a whore."

He sighs and shakes his head. He's so indifferent. And cold. I guess I know where I got those traits from. I hate crying like this in front of him. I probably look so weak. So stupid. My face is wet and sticky, and my head hurts so much. I take another step towards him. I'm shaking. Where's Mom? I can't believe she's still upstairs.

"Come on, Dad. Tell me," I repeat. "Say it. Call me names. Call me a whore to my face."

I really want to push him away when he pulls me into his arms. I want to kick him. I want to scream, shout, tell him just how much I despise him. I'm not sure why I don't do these things. Every time he says 'stop crying, sweetie' or 'it's okay, Bella' I feel sick. So sick. I want to punch him in the stomach. But I don't move. I cry in his arms and let him comfort me. When the tears finally stop, I pull away. I turn around and start walking up the stairs.

XxXxX

I wake up because my phone won't stop ringing. I look for it and look for it. It's in my pocket. I'm still in my jeans.

"Hello?"

"Hey, did I wake you?" His voice is familiar now. It almost feels normal to be receiving a call from him first thing in the morning.

"Yeah, um, but it's okay. What's up?"

"I thought you'd be up, getting ready to go for a run. Go back to sleep."

"No, no. Talk. Hi."

"I'm done with these kids early today," he tells me. "Wanna grab some breakfast? Lunch, if you want to go back to sleep?"

"Come over. I'll make you breakfast."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't feel like leaving the house this morning. Come."

I shower after he finally hangs up. He made me promise that I'm all right and nothing is wrong. He calls to tell me he's outside, and I run down the stairs to open the door. My hair is still wet, and I have no idea where my mother is, but I don't care. I find him standing outside our front door, looking nervous as hell. When he sees me he smiles and kisses me. He puts something in my hand. It's yellow. It's brighter than the sun.

I really want to thank littlecat358 and writingbabe for recommending this story to their readers. You guys are awesome.

And thank you to everyone who is reading, reviewing, talking about it, etc.

Share your thoughts and make me happy. Your reviews are better than bright, yellow things.

mwah