Nina and Tracy rock.

I don't own Twilight.

Texts from Jasper wake me up. It's late in New York, and he's back at the apartment, alone, and a little drunk. He wants a pretty voice to tell him dirty things. He wants what I give him, and he's willing to share his own words with me. We've done this a few times since I retuned to Forks, and if I didn't have my favorite boy holding me right now, I don't know what I'd be telling Jasper. I'd be flirting back, I think. Maybe I'd say just enough, and come up with excuses once he's satisfied and happy, his head on the most comfortable pillows, tissues scattered over ivory sheets. Or I'd turn him down, out of some sense of loyalty, wondering if Edward would do the same. And he would.

It's easy to turn Jasper down tonight.

With someone. Can't play.

Jsut tonight?

I hope not.

I stare at my screen, waiting for his reply, but my phone is snatched from my hand. He's not happy, and my phone is in the air. It lands by our feet.

"Hey!"

Jealous rarely manifests itself in an attractive way. I'm not a fan. I want to push Edward off when he's suddenly kissing and thrusting, touching me with angry hands, but then his lips touch my earlobe, and he's saying my name, so softly, kissing again and again, tickling. I don't like this feeling of melting under someone's touch. I want touches to electrify; I want them to elicit sounds that surprise me and bring me back down to earth until I'm touched again. This should be unwelcome, the melting and the trouble breathing, but I've never wanted to welcome anything more. I'm soft and small and weak right now. I wrap my arms around him to bring him closer. What I love most about this man is how sweet and weak and melty he likes to get. Just a second ago he was fucking me. Hard. Fast. So close. Trying to prove some stupid point. Now it's like a dream. Arms clinging, words making hearts jump and dance, dizzy, dizzy, dizzy. Lips on my cheeks, deep kisses, deep everything. Too sweet to be real. Definitely a dream.

I tell him he's so good. I love everything. Please, please, please, something. I don't know what. I want to sing I love you, I love you, I love you, even if I don't. Because when a handsome boy with crazy, unreal hair is above you, looking at your face, into your eyes like he's watching his first sunrise—the moment when everything makes sense, when you recognize this is a first you'll never repeat—when he looks at you like that, and his arms are the strongest, and his words are the ones you think you'll remember, the ones you want to remember in fifty years… you love him. Or you love it… whatever's going on. You love that he's inside you, and if you could trap him there, you would. You'd trap him and make sure there's no escape. You'd keep him between your legs, his mouth on your skin, his chest hair yours to run your fingers through, tease him about. Why not? What's not to love? What do those words mean anyway? I love him right now, and right now, he loves me back. I mouth the words to him. His jaw drops. He gulps. He's so young. He can't be older than me. There's no way. Or am I just a little girl? He opens his mouth, about to say something, but my next words are said out loud.

"Don't come inside me."

He smiles and moves faster, and faster, and faster. I'm being fucked again. I love this, too. I say the cheesy, porny things men like. And Edward Cullen is just a man, after all. He wants to hear them over and over again. My voice is lower, throatier, his breathing becomes harsher, he's surprising me with every thrust, all crazy, so good. Yes, I'm flexible, but ouch. I look for a pillow because I know I'll scream, but opt for his hand over my mouth instead. Just in time. I make my eyes huge for him, perfect eyes to get lost in as he comes, and he doesn't forget what I said.

Edward's thorough when he's cleaning up, and while he loves my giggles and breathless "stop, stop, I'm ticklish," he's not distracted. He hates sticky things more than I do. He suggests a shower, but I'm just so tired. Fine, we'll take one in the morning. He's a neat freak. No scattered tissues on this bed. I'm half asleep a few minutes later when a smiling Edward is back under the covers, hands all over me again.

"Sorry," he says. Still smiling.

"It's cool. Next time find a condom."

"No."

"Yes."

He shakes his head again. No, no, no. His mouth tries to distract me by biting a nipple, but I push him away.

"I'm serious. I don't know where that's been."

A little late, Bella, but bravo for choosing safe sex (for future encounters) and caring enough to bring it up.

Edward stops playing around and his face is finally serious.

"You're right," he says. "I'll make sure everything's good and I'll let you know."

I hold his face in my hands and he thinks I'm about to kiss him, but I bring it down to my chest instead. Go back to what you were doing, silly.

"Remember what I was telling you about in the car? What those women didn't think could actually happen?" I whisper.

He nods and nods and sucks and sucks. I decide to keep my mouth shut for the rest of the night. He makes me want to say things he can't be ready to hear. My bottom lip is puffy and sore by the time I fall asleep. Too much biting.

XxXxX

"I miss him," I whine into the phone.

"Didn't you spend the night with him?" Jasper asks.

"Yes, but I miss him."

"Cute, Bella. You have a crush."

"No, I love him."

He laughs. "You love him?"

"I think so. I want to be where he is. Do what he does. Or, you know, have him with me when I do things or go places."

Jasper's laughter starts to get on my nerves. "Bella's in puppy mode. There's nothing hot about dependence, Bella."

"Shut up. So jealous. You just want me to depend on you. Or, I don't now, you want to continue depending on me."

"Don't flatter yourself," Jasper says.

"You call me every night—"

"Yeah, we both know why. And if you're smart, you won't show this guy your pathetic side. He's interested in Isabella, the woman who brought down a presidency, not little Bella, the kid who draw hearts all over her notebook and blushes when you notice."

"I was seventeen…" I giggle.

"You were adorable."

"And I didn't bring down anything. You make it sound like I planned it."

"Shhh, I was kidding. Just be careful. Keep your guard up."

"I don't want to. He doesn't deserve that," I try to explain. "Jasper… I think I want to bring Edward to the wedding."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Yes. We're together, and I want…"

"Whatever makes you happy, kid," he says.

"He wants to come."

"Something about… I wish I could meet this guy before you bring him to—"

"You'll meet him there."

"Yeah."

"So, are you bringing anyone?" I ask.

"I guess, yeah. Anyway, I've got to go. I'm meeting Irina for dinner."

"Gross. Fine, bye."

I hang up and stare at my phone. He's hooking up with her again. I don't care, but I do. And I'll care about who Jasper is hooking up with when I'm married and pregnant with my third child, when I'm sixty and haven't seen him in thirty years. So, always. But Irina… I hate her. I hated how she pounced on him each time we took a break. I hate that she's always around. Alice hated her, too. At this rate, Irina's going to get him. She outlasted us all. Good for her. She better move quickly, because he's so easily distracted, especially when I feel like being a distraction.

At least it's not Alice.

She was on the news today. She forged some checks. Stupid, stupid Alice Brandon. I laughed out loud when they showed her outside her house, trying to get past a camera and a pushy journalist. Terrible nose job. What happened to her skin? Permanent scowl. Oh, Alice. Even my father commented on your appearance. Our first conversation in days was about you. I think we would have exchanged more than a dozen words if Jasper hadn't called to ask me if I'd heard… Yes, I did, and it was delicious. I noticed the smirk on Dad's face when I said that word. I smiled at him and he smiled back, shaking his head.

Why did that make me happy? I don't even want to think about it. I give him too much power. I let him affect my mood.

"Bella?"

I jump, eager and desperate, when I hear my name. But before I tell him to come in, I make sure my face is blank.

"Yeah, Dad?"

He stands right outside my door, playing with the knob like it's broken and he needs to fix it.

"You came in pretty late last night," he says. "Forgot to put the lock on."

"I didn't come back last night. Mom knew I was staying out, I texted her."

"You sure she got that text?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Dad, I don't think it's that big a deal. Not a lot of criminals in Forks…"

"Just want to keep my family safe," he sighs.

"I'll make sure to call or text you next time."

"You do that."

"Okay." I try to smile.

"Bella…"

"Yeah?"

"I'd be more comfortable with this situation if I knew where you're going, who you're spending your time with."

"You know."

"Do I?" he asks.

"I told you I'm seeing Edward Cullen now."

"I'm aware of that."

"How many men do you think I'm spending the night with?" I demand.

"Bella, I didn't come here to start a fight. Don't go twisting my words—"

"If I'm not in my bed at night, I'm with Edward. You know where he lives. You know what he does. You thought very highly of him before he started thinking very highly of me. You have to understand how much that hurts."

I try to maintain my composure. I try so hard that my face is doing these things… trembling. I try so hard that it feels like my face is going to fall apart, and I'm doing my best to keep it in one piece. I relax my jaw and blink a few times before I look him in the eye. I watch him sigh and shake his head. He walks over to my bed and sits right next to me. Not enough space between us.

"He's a good kid, Bella. He's worked real hard, just like you. Now, he's making a choice to be with you, and I'm proud of him for being a man, for knowing what he wants, but he's got a job—"

"And what? They're not going to fire him for being my boyfriend. I don't understand why you think it matters."

"He works at a school. Those kids look up to him, he's their idol. A lot of parents, even some of the school board… Bella, you're a smart girl, don't make me explain."

"Dad, no. I know what you're saying, but that's just crazy," I tell him, because I think it is crazy—that anyone would try to fire him because of me—but I know people will talk about it, talk about him. Talk and talk. Students could bring it up. Ask questions. Mock him. Ridicule him. I don't know what to think. I've brought it up before—what being with me means, what it can do to his life, and I don't want to do it again. But it's not fair to Edward. Everything that happened… it was only a year ago. A few months ago. People make Isabella Swan jokes all the time. Constantly. I'm still a joke. I'm still a slut.

"Sweetheart, don't cry."

"I really like him," I whisper. Dad's hand is on my back. I move closer to him until he gets it, gets that I need my father, and he holds me. I start crying hard.

"He took me to dinner last night. He tells me to stop by the school sometimes. He wants to go out a lot, I just… I like spending time with him, without people… Do you really think… Dad, I don't think he's embarrassed, but…"

"He's not embarrassed. He gets to take out the prettiest girl in town. He's a lucky man."

I burst out laughing. "That's not what you said that night. You think he's an idiot."

"He's an idiot, alright. We get like that when we're crazy about someone."

"Did he say something to you?" I ask. I'm suddenly sitting straight, pushing my father away. My tears have stopped.

"What do you mean?"

"He knows… I told him about our fight. I hope he didn't—"

"No. Haven't seen him in a while."

I nod.

"Bella, this hasn't been easy," Dad starts. "You and I, we were never close before you left for college, and I know the move to Washington was hard on you. I should've been more considerate back then, but when your grandmother got sick and Uncle Billy told me about the job opening here… You were fifteen, I should've given you some warning—"

"I don't care about any of that."

"You're angry with me, and—"

"I forgave you guys years ago, before college. I mean, yeah, I hated moving here, but it wasn't your fault. I'm angry because… I was all alone."

His silence kills me because he's not apologizing and begging for forgiveness. He's like me. He's honest. He won't apologize for making a decision he doesn't regret. He didn't want to be there for me. He didn't want to support me. He's not going to pretend now, even if that would make all the difference.

"Peter, Tanya, everyone told me that it would look better if I had my parents by my side. Small town cop, his beautiful wife. They wanted you guys to do interviews here, talk about me, show off our house, the town, show them pictures of me growing up. I said 'no' so many times, I even mentioned it to Mom once, but she had to go, and she never called me back. You wouldn't even talk to me. I mean, I get it, it was embarrassing, but what had I done before that to deserve…"

I stop, because it's no use.

"Damn right it was embarrassing," he says. "We raised you, and… Bella, I read things no father should ever have to read. I had to get up and go to work every morning, knowing everyone there read those same things. All my buddies, everyone."

"Were you ashamed that I enjoy… sex? I never even… Was it because he was married?"

"There's no use talking about this again. You're here now. We all made mistakes, but we've got to put them behind us."

"I can't get over…"

"Neither can I."

"Wow. Dad, please get out of my room," I tell him.

"I didn't come here to start a fight."

"Then be nicer next time."

"I'm trying," he says. "I'm really trying, Bella."

"Me too. I want to make this work while I'm here."

He pats me on the back twice. It's awkward and we both know it. Smiling, because I guess he thinks we're good, Dad stands up.

"Bring Edward over for dinner soon. And let me know if you won't be spending the night here."

I nod and watch him walk away. This is how it's going to be. He's disappointed and humiliated, but he's letting me stay here. He's not a monster, he's my father, and we've never been close, and we never will be, but we can try to be civil. It kills me, but I have to try. This really isn't so different from how things used to be. He was never warm. He was proud of me, he showed me off, he listened to me go on and on about my life, about different subjects, and he smiled. He can't do that anymore, and he hates it. The truth is, so do I.

XxXxX

I've always loved porch swings. I used to beg Dad for one, but we didn't have a porch. I'm glad we never had one, because this is my first time on one, and the Cullens have excellent taste—in porch swings, not much else. Mrs. Cullen needs to stop wearing her daughter's clothes. They don't fit. And the hair… Jasper would say it's bigger than my ego.

But my hair… it's nice. Edward likes it. He plays with it, and I smile up at him, and he smiles and smiles at me. I flirt and he flirts back. I scratch his tummy and raise his t-shirt a little and blow. He likes the weird, silly things I do. He grabs my hands to stop me, so I bite down on his thigh, and he sounds like a girl. Almost. When he's done whining I grin, and he knows he's in trouble. Except I change my mind and place a kiss over his crotch. Denim is thick, but not thick enough. He likes it too much and I can tell. I'm giggling again.

"I bought our tickets today," he says.

"What? I was going to do that tomorrow."

"I know, but I found a good deal."

"Thank you," I tell him. His thumb keeps running up and down my cheek, I can't catch it between my teeth and it's annoying. "How much did you pay? I'll write you a check. Hand me my bag. I think it's…"

"Don't worry about that."

"What do you mean? I'm dragging you to a wedding, I'm paying for everything."

"I'm taking you to California for a long weekend. I'm excited. I'm paying for everything."

"No." I can't accept this. He doesn't make a lot of money. He's saving up. He's crazy.

"Let's split it," I suggest.

"We'll talk about it later."

"Push us."

His thighs are strong, they feel strong. He uses his legs to get us moving again. Back and forth. I love swings. It's a warm night and I can see stars. He's been studying a lot, and I feel like I never get to see him, even though I see him every day. I'm sad now, so I sit up and climb onto his lap. He kisses me, because he knows. I wrap my arms around his neck and I'm so clingy. God, it's pathetic. I love his jaw and I kiss it a lot.

"You're sweet," Edward tells me.

"I really like you."

"That's it?"

"Shhh, let me kiss you."

"I really like you, too," he says. "You make me crazy."

I say the words I mouthed a few nights ago over and over again against his skin, but not out loud. I wish he could read what my lips are saying just by feeling them like this. I wish I knew if he read my lips in bed that night. Can someone even be expected to read lips during sex? It's hard enough when you're just sitting around. I wish I'd let him speak before I told him to pull out, but if I had really wanted to hear his next words, I would have let him say them.

"You need a tan."

His finger moves along my thigh, making me jealous of his tan. All it took was one sunny day, and he's all gold and pretty and perfect. I have a pink nose and pinker cheeks. He keeps kissing the pink.

"I know." I take his finger and move it over my skin, writing an E with it. He slaps my hand away and I watch his finger draw a heart. This just makes my heart beat insanely fast. If it explodes and I die… I don't even care. What a way to go. On a porch swing. In his arms. Under a perfect summer sky.

A throat clears, making me jump a little, but Edward's arms steady me.

"Sorry, kids. I didn't want to disturb you, but…"

He's handsome, and looks nothing like his children. And he looks so young. Crazy.

"Isabella, it's nice to finally meet you. I'm Carlisle."

Introductions are a little awkward, considering the way I'm sitting on his son's lap… my shorts too short, my blush too deep, my hair a mess.

"Will you be joining us for dinner?" he asks.

"Mom and Bree ate hours ago," Edward tells him.

"That's Mom and Bree. I'm still hungry. Come on, I'll heat something up. Isabella?"

"Sure, that would be nice." Much nicer than your wife, who stares at her precious son like he just announced he has three weeks to live. Poor kid, forced to spend time with someone like me.

"Great, maybe Bree will join us. She's always eating, that kid. Bet she won't turn down another meal."

I smile, and I know I've got him. The way he looks at me, like, oh, wow. No other thoughts. They'd probably be inappropriate, and he seems like a decent man. He'll return to them later, or ignore them completely. I think Carlisle Cullen will ignore them, but who knows? He stands there for a second too long, and it's about to be awkward, but that moment never comes because he's already inside.

"I didn't realize you were hungry," Edward says.

"I didn't want to be rude. Your dad's nice."

"Yeah."

"How old is he? He looks young."

"Fifty-one."

"Wow, I can't believe he's the same…" I stop myself. My face is hot again.

"Hmmm?"

I shrug and shake my head to let him know I want him to drop it.

He does.

I think I love him. Right now, sitting like this, not inside me, not making me scream. Right now. Not asking questions. Swinging with me out here on the porch. Introducing me to his dad with his arms around me and his chin on my shoulder. Like this. Quiet. Kind. Good. I can't remember the last time I thanked God, or whoever, or whatever, for anything, but my lips move and silently they form those two words, and I mean them.

You guys are fantastic. Amazing. The best. Let's see if you'll like this crazy mess. I hope your 2011 rocks.

xo