There are mysteries which men can only guess at, which age by age they may solve only in part

Dracula, Bram Stoker

Chapter 8 - What's in a Name

I was at a loss for what to do. It was getting cold outside. I didn't want to go to a pub. I wasn't hungry. I didn't want a drink.

But sitting in front of the building wasn't an option.

So I did the only thing I could, I started walking. I hadn't spent much time exploring London, and figured I might as well get a start on it.

I headed back in the direction of Waterloo station. I hadn't made it a block, when I saw him standing across the street. Like he was waiting for me.

I so wasn't in the mood for this. It was bad enough that I was having dreams about him. Even worse that I found myself fanaticizing about him during the day. I couldn't control my subconscious. But direct interactions, yeah, those I could.

Head down, I continued on. If I didn't stop, maybe he wouldn't see me. Or if he did, my lack of acknowledgement might prevent him from following.

Wishful thinking.

"Isabella!" I heard him call after me.

And I was furious at the surge that I felt hearing him call my name. My body was a total traitor.

I stopped, but didn't look back.

"What do you want, Edward?"

"I was coming to see you. I needed to see you." He was directly behind me now.

"You know what? I am really not in the mood right now. I've had my head messed with my head enough for a lifetime. So if you are looking for another round of fuck with the Yank, can you let it be?"

I was shorter with him than I had intended. Instinct was to apologize. I was never intentionally cruel to anyone.

"Isabella, please. Just listen to me…"

I spun around, planning on reiterating my request to be left alone. I should have learned after Saturday night that visual contact was not a good thing.

Hands shoved in the pockets of jeans. Dark grey wool pea coat. The same flush in his cheeks from the cold. There were no words to describe the way he looked. How could I resist him?

"I am not here to be difficult. I was merely coming by to offer to take you to a few places for your research. Alice and I grew up with the story. It's kind of hard not to, living where we did. I just…I wanted to try help."

"Why?" It just tumbled out. I hadn't intended to be rude. "I'm sorry…it's just…why would you want to help me?"

His hand went to his hair, sweeping it away from his eyes. He looked uncomfortable. I wasn't accustomed to seeing anything but confidence from him.

"Do you want my help, or don't you?"

"Why did you come by here? Why didn't you call?" I was trying to buy time, trying to figure out what his motive was. What I wanted.

"I don't have your mobile number, Isabella. I was going to buzz your flat. If you weren't home I was going to leave a note."

"Why not call Jasper? He knows how to reach me."

"And why would I do that? He'd only pry, and I really don't want to disclose the nature of our relationship, Isabella."

Relationship? We had a relationship?

So I did what I always do in situations where I get nervous. I brought my palm to my forehead, and rubbed hard, as If trying to physically force out a thought. It was a habit I had developed as a child.

I felt his hand on my wrist. "Don't do that."

"Why?" I allowed him to pull my hand down. He didn't let go of my wrist.

"Because maybe I want to see your face," He replied softly.

God, this was all so confusing.

"Look, Edward. I can't do this. Every conversation we've had has been combative, frustrating, and totally confusing. You may get off on turning me around in circles, but I don't. Please, can't you just let me be?"

I made a move to walk away, but he still had a hold of my wrist. He used my forward momentum to reel me back. It whipped me around, and I crashed into him.

"Why do you insist on torturing me? I had a wonderful guy kiss me today, and I should have enjoyed it. But instead, all I could think about was you. I can't get you out of my head." I regretted it as soon as I said it. I didn't want him to know the power he had over me.

"Good, because I don't want you too." His expression was fierce, intense. It immediately softened when he registered the shock in mine.

"Isabella, just listen to me." He let go of my wrist. I immediately missed the contact. This isn't me. I don't react to strange men. Why does he affect me like this?

"Just spend a day with me? I can take you to the London Zoo. It isn't exactly the way Stoker wrote about it, but you can get a feel for. And we can talk. We can get to know each other."

"We can talk, or you can insult?" A flicker of pain registered on his face at my cheap shot.

"I'm sorry, it's just…I don't understand. You act different every time I see you. Your moods are giving me whiplash. And then there was that stunt you pulled in front of the club last night. How else would you expect me to react?"

Edward's eyes narrowed for a moment. Then he reached up to weave his hand through my hair.

"Spend a day with me. I'll answer whatever questions you want to ask. Just come." I felt his hand tighten in my hair. "Please, Isabella. Say that you will."

His fingers were slowly opening and closing now, gently massaging my scalp. It was such an odd sensation, something so intimate, and yet so strange.

"Only if you call me by my name."

The massaging didn't stop. I wanted to lean my head back into it, but I checked myself. I needed to maintain my control around him, or at least what little I had left.

"I do."

"No you don't. You call me Isabella. My name is Bella." His hand moved lower, rubbing gently at my neck. I closed my eyes, pure instinct.

"No," He stated quietly. "Your name is Isabella. Your nickname is Bella. And I will not call you Bella."

My eyes shot open.

"Why not?"

He smiled and slid his hand down my neck so that his thumb rested directly over my pulse point again. Just the memory of him kissing me in that exact same spot made me shiver a bit. I could tell by the self-satisfied little smirk that he noticed it too.

"Because you don't believe it. I refuse to call you something that you don't see. Therefore, until you acknowledge and accept the meaning, I will call you Isabella."

I wanted to be angry, to pull away, and to tell him that he didn't know what he was talking about. But I couldn't.

Because he was right. He hardly knew me, yet he could see everything. It scared the living day lights out of me.

And yet there I stood, like a cornered animal. His thumb continued to trace below my jaw.

"There is so much potential in you. So much fire. So much life. Why can't you let it out?"

I didn't know how to respond. My brain scrambled to react to his assessment, while my body reacted to his touch. My own personal civil war.

"What do you want, Isabella? Do you even know?"

I answered before I could think through a response. "I'm not sure."

I knew as soon as I said it that it was only a partial truth.

"Will you kiss me, please? I want you to kiss me."

I hated the way it sounded, like I was begging. But I needed to know if this was real, if there was something lurking underneath. I had kissed Emmett today, and said it didn't compare. But I didn't have anything to compare it to.

"Is that what you want?"

I nodded, my cheeks burning in embarrassment. I didn't trust myself to speak. He smiled at my reaction; it was like he reveled in my discomfort.

He leaned in towards me, his hand shifting so that his thumb was directly underneath my chin.

I could feel his breath on my face, and I instinctively closed my eyes. As soon as I did, I felt pressure from his thumb, shifting my head, so that he could place a gentle kiss on my jaw, next my ear. The next one was directly over my pulse point, followed by a quick trace of his tongue. And lower now, trailing down my neck until he reached the collar of my coat.

I didn't push him away this time. I had asked for this, I wanted this. My arms slipped around his waist, and I pulled myself in closer. He continued kissing my neck, his hand slipping back into my hair and tugging slightly to gain better access. He ran his tongue back along my pulse point again, and I whimpered in reaction. I felt him smile against my skin.

"It scares you to feel out of control, doesn't it Isabella?" He sucked lightly on my neck, and I relaxed into him, feeling his arms tighten around me. "I think it would be a very good thing for you to learn to deal with. Life can't always be controlled now, can it?"

I was scared, I was frustrated, and I desperately didn't want him to stop what he was doing. Edward brought his free hand to the small of my back and pressed against me. I hadn't stopped to think that this was affecting him as much as it was me.

"I think I would very much like to see that moment."

He placed one last gentle kiss on my neck and pulled away.

"I'll pick you up next Saturday at 9."

He released me and turned to walk away.

What the hell? What is this, turn me on and leave me cold?

"I asked you to kiss me!" I shouted after him. Immediately embarrassed at how I sounded.

"I did kiss you, Isabella."

"No you didn't!"

"You asked me to kiss you. I kissed you." I couldn't see his face. No way to decipher the tone of his words.

"I meant on the lips." I could feel the burn building in my face.

He stood, with his back to me, hands back in his pockets.

"I am not going to kiss you on the lips today, Isabella. Accept it."

"Why?" I had no pride now. This is what he did to me. I needed to know, needed to understand.

He didn't answer me immediately, and when he did, I almost thought I had misunderstood.

"I don't think either of us are ready for that moment yet."

He crossed the street to where his car was parked. I hadn't registered that it was there when I had walked by.

"I will get your number from Jasper this week. Expect a call."

He got in and pulled out into traffic without looking at me again. I watched the tail lights whip around the corner and disappear.

I was halfway home when I realized that my hand was at my neck.

Excellent, I was stumbling down the street holding my neck like I had been bitten. Damn him.

I was tired, I was cold, and I was frustrated. I was past caring if Emmett and Rose were still duking it out. I was going to go home and go to bed.

The flat was quiet when I let myself in. The lights were on, and Rose's door was closed. I was thankful. I didn't feel like listening to her rant about Emmett. I loved her, but he was a good guy, and I don't know if I could have handled her putting him down.

Right now, all I wanted was bed and sleep.

For once, I didn't settle in with Dracula before turning out the lights. One man in my head was more than enough tonight.

I lay in the dark, thinking back over the last few months, trying to figure out how I had gotten to this point.

The feeling of terror on hearing Mike's apartment door shut behind me when I walked out. How could I have stayed with him all that time? He had defined who I was for so long, that I just felt like I was reforming who I was.

That, at root, was a major quandary. I had no clue who I was. If someone were to ask the uber clichéd question of 'What do you want to be when you grow up' how would I answer?

Had my decision to come to London been to face that head on, or to run away? Was it even that simple?

And now here I was, elbows deep in research with no real direction on my dissertation.

I kissed two guys today. I turned away the one I should have chased, and pretty much want to screw the brains out of the one I should turn away. Me, Bella Swan. I could count my relationships on one hand, and my sexual partners on one finger.

Why did life have to be so damn confusing?

I stretched my arms over my head, trying to ease some of the tension out of my back and neck. Be logical, Bella. Think it through. Identify the questions and find the answers.

Okay, first question. What do I want to be? Why am I even questioning this? I'd set a path my entire life, get my doctorate and teach. Maybe someday even write. The only way I can get there is if I finish my dissertation. But lately, I've been questioning if that is the path that I want to follow. Will academia be fulfilling enough? Will I be looking myself away from life? Better save that one for another day.

Second question. Why am I having such a hard time with my dissertation? I should be able to crank this out. As much as I didn't want to admit it, Edward had hit it on the head. I had no clue how to write about something I had never lived. It was too late to switch topics, and I had too much invested in this, intellectually and emotionally.

Which lead me to my final question. Edward. Boil it down, Bella. Be logical. What is it about him that is so…so…provocative? He was absolutely gorgeous. He was smart. But it was more than that. No man has ever pushed me like he does. I don't fight, I don't argue. But I do with him.

He makes me feel out of control.

He makes me angry.

He's worked his way so far under my skin that I have sexual dreams about him. I fantasize about him. I have never done that before, ever. Not with a man a know, heck not even with anyone famous. My representative sample for sex, passion, lust, whatever you want to call it was Mike. King of the wham bam thank you ma'am.

But could that be the answer? Is it really that simple? And more importantly, could I even do it?

Did I want to? That was the only question I could answer, and it infuriated me all the more.

Absolutely.

I pulled my pillow over my face and screamed in frustration. I was wound up mentally, physically, and emotionally. I might as well give up.

There wouldn't be any sleep tonight.