Happy Holidays everyone :) If you would like to give me a super awesome present, leave me a comment.

Muah!

I wish you'd stop ignoring me, because you're sending me to despair

Without a sound, yeah, you're calling me, and I don't think it's very fair

That your shoulders are frozen (cold as the night)

Oh but you're an explosion (you're dynamite)

-Arctic Monkeys

EPOV

I woke at the crack of early afternoon, much to my dismay. I was hoping to have a rather nice lie-in, but I supposed noon was late enough. I rolled over onto my back, kicking wildly and awkwardly at the sheet that had somehow become wrapped round my legs before finally getting settled. What did I have to do today?

Dinner. With Alice. And…Jasper.

Oh, fuck me, this day was already going to shit.

…

"Fuck!" I cried as I dropped the bags of groceries I carried. Bloody hell, who knew a roast weighed so much?

Well, alright, so I hadn't just bought a roast. There were vegetables, spices, sauces, and all the ingredients I could possibly need. There were measuring cups and spoons, as well as a roasting pan in there. I'd even managed to unearth the cookbook Mum had sent with me when I'd first come over-when she apparently thought I'd actually be making real people food, so I'd know what to do with the plethora of things I had bought. Although, I had forgotten to write down exactly what it was I needed, so I had really just bought a lot of everything and crossed my fingers. I was a bachelor, alright? Did I look like I knew how to cook a roast? I'd lived on take-away and beer for the last four years, for God's sake.

I unlocked my front door successfully now that I wasn't carrying armloads of shopping and pushed the stupid bags into the hall with my foot. I shut the door and took off my jacket, hanging it up on the coat rack. I bent down and retrieved my groceries, hauling them off to the kitchen. As I set everything on the counter, I started to get worried. What if I fucked this up royally? I crossed my fingers. I supposed I'd bets start praying, as well.

For the next couple of hours I was a cooking madman. Slicing, dicing, boiling, stirring, and, most importantly, roasting. Which is why, when I finally pulled that fucking thing out of the goddamn oven, I almost cried.

It was burnt to a fucking crisp.

"FUCKING HELL!" I yelled, slamming my fists onto the counter top.

After much swearing, complaining and needless appliance abuse, I did the only thing I could.

I phoned Alice.

"Masen! I was just going to call you!" Alice's voice trilled through the speaker.

"Hey, baby sis," I said hesitantly. "So…about dinner…"

The silence was tangible. There was a slight pause as Alice took what I had said and jumped head first to the worst possible conclusion. I would've been more offended if I didn't have a very long and colourful history of fucking shit up.

"What about dinner?" she asked accusingly, whining like a disgruntled child.

"Masen, you better not be canceling because I will seriously hurt you. No joke. Better yet, I'll sic my new friend on you."

"No, no!" I assured her hurriedly, not wanting to incur the wrath of the International Woman of Mystery without properly earning it. "I'm still doing dinner. I just wanted to know if you maybe, well, if you know how to cook a roast?" I sounded pathetic, even to me. "Apparently I'm fucking tragic in the cooking department, seeing as I've managed to mangle the poor thing and burn it to a crisp."

There was more silence on the other end of the phone as Alice thought about it. She sighed loudly and I knew I was fucked.

"Masen, the closest I get to cooking is popping the top on some Campbell's soup. I wouldn't even know what to do with a roast."

As I watched all hope of proving to my sister that I was a fully-functioning human being fly out the window to taunt me, the muffled sound of my salvation came across the phone. Alice seemed to have set down the receiver and was now having a conversation with someone in which the words "yes," "cook," and "roast," all made an appearance. Please, for the love of Christ, let this work out.

There was a shuffling sound and Alice came back to the phone. "Well, Masen, you're in luck. My "scary new friend," as you referred to her, happens to know how to cook. She has generously offered to help and says you should expect her in about a half hour and that Jasper and I should head over in a couple of hours. Have fun. Love you, brother!"

And with that chipper pronouncement of my impending doom, my baby sister hung up the phone.

I puttered around my apartment after that, getting more nervous by the second. I didn't want to admit it, but I was a little worried she'd hit me again. Not to say I thought I was going to give her any reason to do so, but still. Once a girl hands you your pride on a platter, it's a bit hard to think she won't do it again.

After getting my nerves under control, I set about tidying up the kitchen. I left the felled Who-Beast where it was, hoping to induce some sympathy from...the girl whose name I still didn't know.

Exactly a half hour later, there was a knock on my front door.

I checked my reflection in the hallway mirror yet again, hoping that I didn't look like a fucking wanker. I was loathe to admit it, but I was a very fastidious person, especially when it came to how I looked. I had to make the right impression here if I was ever going to get out of Scary New Friend's doghouse and into her pants.

I had finally decided on some black jeans, a dark green Henley and a t-shirt that read "Hold me" with a picture of a fermata underneath. What could I say? I was a band geek at heart. Not too douchebaggy, right?

There was a second, more persistent knock on the door and I hurried to answer it. Standing on the other side of the door was Scary New Friend. And she looked smokin'.

Her long legs were encased in a pair of what I assume were originally jeans, but they had so many holes and patches that they seemed to be more repair than actual denim. They were still tight on her legs and they let me have a few tantalizing glimpses of creamy white skin. Her shirt was...what? Was that Marx with a lampshade on his head? And Stalin and Lenin had plastic cups? What the bloody...oh! I suddenly realized what the rather amusing illustration on her shirt was-a Communist party. Dear God, she was smart, too. Save me.

What I had failed to notice right away was that she had on those damnable sunglasses again, but I as I looked up from her shirt, and what I realized belatedly must have seemed my unabashed staring at her chest, I saw that she had one eyebrow arched in confusion.

"Golden Boy," she said finally, "while I do appreciate the sheer, unadulterated lust your tactless ogling has made apparent, you really should close your mouth and let me in, yeah? We have work to do."

With that she stalked past me and into the apartment. Damn, her arse looks good in those pants. There was a tear right underneath it…I bet if she bent over just a little bit…I cut that thought off before it took me any further and looked back at the girl. She slipped off her ratty Converse, leaving them haphazardly strewn across the floor and walked toward the lounge. As I went to close the door, I noticed a group of bags in the hall.

"Longshanks?" Scary New Friend called from somewhere behind me. "Do me a favor and bring in the groceries. We have a roast to make." I groaned as I grabbed the shopping bags and hauled them inside. I really needed to learn her name so I could stop calling her Scary New Friend. And I really needed to stop staring at her arse every time she walked by.

I dropped the bags in the kitchen and walked into the living room to see Scary New Friend standing in front of my CDs, her head tilted sideways so she could read the titles. She bent over just a little and holy fucking Christ was that black lace? A very, very tiny edge of black lace was peeking out from the tear in her jeans. I dropped my gaze and squeezed my eyes shut, trying desperately to think of something, anything other than the lace. The Queen in her knickers, squids, Allan the postman, Alice, Mum, baby ducks…

When I finally had my imagination under control again, I opened my eyes to see a pair of feet standing in front of me. She had on one green sock and one orange sock, and that, more than anything else, helped to soothe the raging flow of hormones coursing through my system. That one thing made her a person again, and not just some woman I wanted to see in my bed. And dear Lord, her mismatched socks made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I loved the fact that she couldn't even pair up socks properly.

"Longshanks?" she said quietly. I lifted my head and met her gaze. I had to focus on listening to what she said and not just staring at her perfect mouth. And her eyes. Oh God, her eyes. Never had I seen so much raw emotion in one place. She had taken her shades off and her liquid chocolate eyes were staring into mine. There was curiosity in her gaze as well as contempt and distrust and…desire? No, surely I was imagining that.

She put her hand on my shoulder and shook me gently. "Hey. Wanna make that ridiculously complicated CD player work so we can get down to business? That roast isn't gonna cook itself." I murmured my acquiescence to fix the stereo and walked over, trying to get myself under control.

When she touched me it was like heaven. Every worry, every care I had, suddenly became less important. It was like I knew that with her by my side I'd figure everything out. It was nonsense, of course, because it just didn't work that way. No one person can fix everything. It's not humanly possible.

I popped open the CD player and felt her slip in beside me and put a disc in the tray. I closed it and grabbed the remote, heading to the kitchen. Scary New Friend had walked into the kitchen and over to the oven, where she now stood making a thorough examination of the carcass of the previous roast, God rest its soul.

"What have you done to it?" she said, cringing slightly as she poked it with the knife I'd left on the counter.

I opened my mouth to tell her it had fallen in the face of my almighty skills when it hit me: she wasn't using my name, which she knew. Deciding that was the more pertinent question, I decided to find out why. "Okay, question: why on earth do you keep calling me Longshanks?"

She giggled, a mischievous smile gracing her lips, making my heart beat just a touch faster and said, "Think about it. What's your name?"

"Erm, Edward?" I said, still not understanding the reference she obviously felt so clever in making. She was blushing again, something that made her frown for half a second, in what I felt was annoyance at doing so, before the smile was back in place.

"Right. Now, put them together…." She trailed off. I looked at her with confusion, but did as she said. "Edward….Longshanks? Wait, wait, Edward Longshanks? Seriously?" Holy Christ, she was a nerd! She truly was perfect. It was a well known fact that, while I was incredibly handsome and a clear favorite with the ladies, I was a huge geek at heart. For fuck's sake, I was wearing a fermata shirt. Exhibit A, anyone? So, the fact that this most beguiling and intriguing woman was not only wearing a Communist Party t-shirt, but she was also referring to me as a thirteenth century King of England was making me simultaneously want to hold onto her forever and bend her over the counter and shag her senseless.

"Sweet Lord. You, Madame, are perfection itself." The words were out of my mouth before I even realized what I was saying. I was rewarded with a look so full of disbelief and contempt that I was truly surprised I didn't fall over dead at that very moment.

"What I am is depraved for offering to help you with this. Now turn the music on while I get everything situated." With that, a mask dropped over her face, shading her looks and demeanor with cool indifference. I'd honestly thought we were making a go of this whole friends thing, but apparently I'd done something to seriously piss off Scary New Friend. And I still didn't know her fucking name. I walked over to the stereo and hit play before walking back to the kitchen to see her with her head in the fridge, bent at the waist and the lace peeking out again.

"Longshanks, you had best not be staring at my ass again. I won't hesitate to smack that smirk right off your face," she said, her voice slightly muffled but very serious. How the bloody hell did she know I was ogling again?

Suddenly, the music started and I knew I was screwed. It was like she could read my mind.

Hey, hey, mama, said the way you move, gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove…

She finished putting the other groceries away and pulled the the roast out of its bag and set it on the counter, the most beautiful and blissful smile on her face. She walked over to the island, her hips swaying in time to the music.

Ah, ah, child, way you shake that thing, gonna make you burn, gonna make you sting…

She walked over to the bar stool where she'd put her...Elvis Presley bag...and pulled a large purple notebook out. She flipped through the pages while humming along, leaving me standing awkwardly off to the side in my own kitchen. She set the notebook on the counter and beckoned me over.

"Golden Boy, there is no need to feel awkward in your own kitchen. C'mere." She crooked her finger at me, narrowing her eyes as a smile played on her lips. "I don't bite, you know," she said, the smile going from innocent to, dare I say it, naughty in .6 seconds, before adding, "unless you ask very nicely, of course." She turned back to her notebook, which luckily gave me a brief moment to freak out over the slightly freaky side she just displayed. Which was definitely the good kind of freaky, not that "I'm going to make you think its good and then stalk you and make a bubble gum shrine to you in the depths of my closet," kind of freaky.

She turned back to me and gave me a smile so innocent I knew that she knew exactly what she had just done. "Turn the oven to two-twenty, please." Well-played, Madam. Well-played indeed.

Damn my stupidity at wearing the super snug rock star jeans! My pants were becoming rather uncomfortably tight at this point, so I took the opportunity she had just given me and readjusted myself before opening the oven prior to changing the temperature. The only thing I did remember about cooking was always check to make sure nothing was in the oven by accident before turning it on. When the monstrous heat that came pouring out of it hit the back of her legs, she let out a yelp.

"Why the hell is that oven so hot!" She cried, rushing over and slamming the door shut while I did nothing but stare at her, yet again. "No wonder the last one was a lava rock! What temperature did you put it on?" She asked, rounding on me, eyes again narrowed, but no longer in a way that made me want to pin her to the wall. More in the way that made me want to place my hands protectively over my squishy bits.

"Errrrrrrrrrrrmmm...I dunno? The highest it would go? It didn't have the right temperature on it," I said defensively. "Although, to be fair, shouldn't an oven have all the proper temperatures marked on it? I feel rather annoyed with the oven making industry at the moment..." I trailed off as I saw the look on her face. Apparently my tirade had only amused me.

She closed her eyes and pursed her lips for a moment, visibly getting control over her emotions, her chest rising and falling dramatically as she inhaled deeply. "What recipe were you using? Show me." Her tone brooked no argument so I ran to the other side of the kitchen and snatched up my cookbook, presenting it to her like it was a precious jewel, but making sure to keep the island between us just in case she was inclined to hurt me again.

She perused the cookbook for a moment before giving a rather un-ladylike snort and handing it back to me. "I seem to have found your problem, Longshanks." I looked at the pages of the cookbook, searching for the thing she had spotted so easily. But there was nothing. The recipe looked just as it always had, and I don't recall my mother ever burning things into lumps of charcoal.

"What? What did I do? I don't see anything wrong..." I said, frowning at the pages, as if that would somehow make my egregious error reveal itself to me.

She smiled at me and asked, not without sympathy, "Can you tell me how the temperature is measured in that cookbook?" I had the distinct feeling I was being mocked.

"Degrees, obviously...no?" As I said that she raised an eyebrow, giving me the 'Oh really, you think so?' look popular with females when you have made a very stupid and very obvious mistake.

"Try again, Golden Boy." I gave her a blank look, attempting to intimate that I had no idea what I could have possibly done wrong. Obviously. Because otherwise I wouldn't have done it. "I realize that," she said, and I realized I must have spoken out loud. Oops. "Alright, since you're not seeing it, I'll just have to tell you. The temperature?" She pointed at the spot on the page where it was written. "Is in Fahrenheit. The oven," she pointed, rather exaggeratedly I felt, to the oven, "Is in Celsius. Do you see, maybe, where we would have a problem?"

Oh, shit.

I looked up with realization written all over my face to see the girl giving me the sexy-cocked eyebrow look. Her eyes were glittering with what I thought was amusement. She liked this little game we were playing. Her cheeks were flushed and there was a smile playing at the corner of those cherry-coloured lips. "I see that the sheer stupidity of not realizing this has registered with you. Therefore we'll acknowledge it briefly and move on. Agreed?" The smile that had been hiding at the edges of her mouth came out now. Dear Lord, she could think I was the dimmest person on the face of the earth so long as it got her to smile at me some more.

She started to pull things out of her grocery bags one by one, and, lacking anything better to do I grabbed bowls, measuring cups and spoons and the ancient mixer I'd found, placing them all on the counter. I looked over at her notebook, trying to figure out what we were making exactly and noticed it looked complicated. Really complicated. So I said so.

She laughed prettily, gathering her hair up into a ponytail and tying it back with the elastic on her wrist. "It's not, I promise. Besides, you have me. There's nothing to worry about. Now, what we're going to make here is Horseradish crusted Prime Rib with Peppercorn Sauce. Side dishes will be potatoes Au gratin and green beans with pecans, and for dessert-peach cobbler!" She turned to smile at me, obviously looking for some affirmation that her menu was filled with excellent choices. I said nothing. Stupid, stupid Edward.

Her smile faltered as my silence continued, and so focused was I on her mouth that I didn't realize she had stopped speaking until it flattened into an angry, thin line.

"Is there something wrong with those? Or are you just naturally rude to people who are doing you a favor?" she spat at me, and as I looked up from her lips I saw that her eyes were glittering again, but with annoyance. Directed at me. It was like standing in front of a high-powered laser beam and just waiting for it to be unleashed and incinerate you.

I held my hands up, eyes wide with fear and horror. I couldn't afford to piss her off, even on accident. "No, no!" I said, trying to infuse it with some sense of truth. "It sounds lovely! I was just, um, processing. It's a rather large undertaking for someone lacking the necessary skills, such as myself. But," and here I drew myself up, trying to convince her, and really myself as well, that I had confidence, "I have confidence in confidence alone, and I am very, very confident in you. And also in my ability to not mess it up a second time. Let's carry on, shall we?" I smiled at her, putting all of my charm into it and hoping against hope it would do the job and keep her here.

She laughed, the sound of it like chimes in the breeze, all traces of annoyance and anger gone out of her. "Whatever you say, Fraulein Maria. Let's get crackin'."

She turned back to her notebook on the counter top, and inspired by her joviality, I stepped around from the other side of the island and joined her. I was still fantastically nervous but managed to contain it this time and let her take the reins as it were. She said that she would take care of getting the side dishes and sauce together, since they involved actual cooking, if I could manage the roast. She placed her hand on my arm at this point and said, very mockingly, with her eyes wide and full of sympathy, "If you need any help, Longshanks, I'm here for you. The first step is admitting that you have a problem. We can go from there." She smiled impishly up at me then and turned back to her work.

And so it began, my cooking education. Charged with the rather daunting task of creating what I was hoping was going to be a delicious entree, I set about my work with a single-minded intensity. As I began collecting the ingredients, I realized that much of my shopping and hers had overlapped. Clueless, I had just bought a lot of everything. She, obviously thinking I had no idea what I was doing, had bought the essentials, assuming I would be lacking the necessities. Now I seemed to have two or three of everything I needed.

I sidled in a bit closer to the girl-I really do need to make a point of learning her name at some point, maybe I could ask Baby Sis?-I inched my way closer to her on the pretense of reading instructions from her handy dandy notebook. And yes I went there. What I was actually doing was trying to figure out if that delicious smell I had just noticed was coming from her. It was messing about with my head. Most girls smell fruity and flowery. Honestly, what was the point of smelling like a million other girls out there? Just because you spent an ungodly amount of money on your scent didn't make you unique. Scent is very strongly tied to memory, and having girls all smell the same made it a bit confusing for us blokes. But this...this would be her scent forever.

Anyway, before every single information route in my brain got screwed right the fuck up, I was wondering if that smell was her. It was. Oh Lord, it was. Heady and teasing, it had none of that sickly sweetness I detested. Exotic and strong, yet subtle. Just like the woman wearing it. I breathed in deeply, tying this moment and that smell together forever in the banks of my memory, when I heard a very quiet "Ahem."

I opened my eyes; I didn't realize I had closed them. When I saw what was waiting for me, I immediately shut them again. Realizing that I didn't really know what I had seen and was only going on the assumption that her default mood around me was angry, I opened them again.

Blank-face. That was what I saw. She was giving me a complete and total blank face. For at least five seconds she did. Why? Ha, I'll tell you why. I'd caught her staring at me. Staringat me. More specifically, staring at my mouth, the heat in her gaze warming me from the now rather obvious bulge in my trousers to the tips of my fingers and toes. To make matters even worse, at that precise moment the tip of her tongue poked out and licked her lips, flicking across the two small hoops on the left side of her very pouty, very sexy bottom lip.

All of this could only mean one thing: she wanted me. At least, she very much wanted my lips, which I would most definitely take. As she looked up and noticed me noticing her noticing me-or noticing my lips, as it were. WHATEVER, she was looking at me, and that was all that bloody mattered. The sweetest, rosiest blush I had ever been fortunate enough to witness swept across her cheeks. Her fair skin was so translucent that I saw the exact moment she went from embarrassed to annoyed, just as she had when she tripped at Water Rats. So she didn't like this blushing business. Too fucking bad, because I did and I would now be doing everything I could to make her blush all the time.

Which was why I did one of the most incredibly inspired and mind-blowingly stupid things I had ever done. She looked up at me, her eyes the color of melted chocolate, her desire and embarrassment written plainly across her face. I stepped in front of her, too quickly for her to stop me, my socks slipping a little on the tile floor. After my near-miss, I placed my hands on the island on either side of her to get my bearings. My senses heightened in the moment's intensity, I did the only thing that seemed possible – I kissed her.

I didn't think, didn't plan, didn't calculate. I simply leaned forward, and did exactly what I had been dying to do since the day I saw her standing outside her building.

Quite frankly, it was the most amazing kiss I had ever had. And I have had quite a few. I started softly, not wanting to spook her, her full, tender lips unmoving against my own for a moment. Electricity was crackling along my skin, my heart thumping away in my chest as if I had just downed a pot of coffee and run a mile simultaneously. It all radiated from that single, wonderful point where her mouth joined mine.

Suddenly, that wild, strong, slightly dangerous woman came to the forefront and all at once her lips were responding, pressing against mine, that perfect blend of soft and hard. Her hands came up and grabbed the belt loops of my trousers, wrenching me forward so my body was pressed flush with hers. Her amazing breasts pressed firmly me as she slid her hand around my hips and into my back pockets, giving my arse a firm squeeze. Fuck me.

As soon as I had that rather obvious go-ahead, I grabbed her by the hips, picked her up and placed her on the counter, settling myself between her knees as I slid my hands under the hem of her shirt. Her mouth opened at that, a small gasp escaping her lips before she sucked my lower lip into her mouth, teasing it with her tongue before nibbling it as it slid out between her teeth. I growled deep in my throat, loving that she had unknowingly done my absolute favorite thing in the world. I slid my tongue past her lips, searching her mouth as her hands slid up and wove themselves into my hair.

I think it was right about then that I decided I wanted this to happen again and again and again. She let out a growl of her own, our tongues dueling fiercely as we fought for dominance and then she pulled my hair.

Yes. Please.

Taking this sign for what it was, a rather obvious indicator of how she liked things, I let one of my own hands leave their place on her back. I had unknowingly been digging my nails into her skin, although she obviously liked that sort of thing, and slid my hand up to that stupid ponytail, ripping the hair tie out and letting those long mahogany waves fall down her back.

I slid my hands into her hair, wrapping it around my fingers and tugging, using it to hold her exactly where I wanted her. She let out a little moan as I did so, and what sounded like a hissed "Yessss..." Just as I felt her wrap her legs around my thighs, her knees squeezing my hips and bringing me closer than I had allowed myself to be, a phone started ringing. I had to assume it was hers because mine did not sing X's "The Hungry Wolf."

I am the hungry wolf and run endlessly with my mate/look across the street, my friend,we're waiting for you to slow down at daybreak/I roam, eyes in the back of my head/I roam, I roam...

All of a sudden she stiffened, shoving me away from her just as suddenly as she had pulled me close, leaping off the counter and scrambling around to get her bag, where the sound was indeed coming from. She pulled her phone out and flipped it open, her face a dull red as she turned her back to me and started walking towards the balcony, saying, "Hey, baby," as she went. I could hear a very deep, very masculine voice answer back.

Fucking. Hell.

She had a boyfriend.

BPOV

As I stood on the balcony, I was only half-listening to Jake, paying just enough attention to carry on a conversation but leaving enough of my mind free to contemplate what the fuck had just happened inside.

Jesus. Christ.

I had had my fair share of kisses before. Let's face it, when I put my mind to it I was pretty smokin', and that whole don't give a fuck attitude that I just had naturally was apparently a really big turn on. I hadn't always been with Jake, and even when I was with him, we had taken a few breaks over the years. Sometimes I thought maybe that was a sign we should just call it quits, but I had never seriously enough to do something about it.

Jackass broke up with me two weeks before my senior prom. TWO. FUCKING. WEEKS. Now, I'm not really the prom type, but all my friends were going and there was no way it could fail to be a kick-ass time. So I was pretty stoked about it. Then, after a camping trip up the coast and a weird, tense weekend, Jake called and said, "I can't do this anymore. I have nothing left to give."

So, after a few days of sheer misery I picked myself up and decided to hell with it. I was still fucking going to prom. I hemmed and hawed for a while, trying to figure out the whole date scenario when a buddy of mine from my English class solved the problem for me.

Tyler was...well, he was a stunner, let's put it that way. Tall, powerfully built with broad, muscular shoulders and abs to die for. I'd always though him pretty cute but way out of my league. So when he showed up at my lunch table and said he'd heard I needed a date to prom, I jumped on that opportunity. Let the hottest guy in school take little old me to the prom? Hell yeah.

Well, in the weeks leading up to prom, something happened. I started hanging out with Tyler after school, kind of needing a replacement for the camaraderie I felt with Jake and his rough and rowdy crowd of fellas. Tyler lived in a huge house on the edge of town and his folks were never home. So I'd go over, watch movies, have dinner, shoot some pool, whatever. So as we were watching Donnie Darko one night on the couch, I became aware of something.

I really wanted to jump Tyler's bones. Like really, really wanted to.

So I did.

I had never, ever been a bit impulsive when it came to men. I always looked before I leaped, so to speak. But I was tired of being scared and worrying about everyone else before worrying about myself. So one night while playing Super Smash Bros. on the N64 I kissed him. He was surprised at first but definitely didn't let that stop him.

For the next two weeks I had the best sex I had ever had, up to that point in my life. It was fun, mostly because I knew I shouldn't be doing it. That always added to the excitement. But then Jake started trying to get me back. And Tyler was a great friend as well as a lover, and tried to help me make the right choice. He said, "He's already done this twice, Bells. Who's to say he won't do it again?"

But, I still wanted to be with Jake, so here I was. Still with him.

Kissing another man.

FUCK.

EPOV

Because I was a rational and logical adult, I went back to what I was doing prior to the kiss-tastrophe as if nothing had happened.

Because I was also lying through my teeth to myself, I was freaking out.

I couldn't focus on anything besides what I just did. Holy shit. I kissed her. And it was SO GOOD. So fucking good. I never wanted to kiss anyone again. Ever. She had quite possibly ruined me for every other girl out there. I'd never felt my body respond to another person like it did to her. Obviously it had...uh...responded, so to speak, but never in a way that made me think I so desperately needed whoever it was responding to in that exact instant or I might actually perish right on the spot.

At that precise moment, I heard the sound of the sliding door to the balcony open. I looked up and saw the girl walk back in, her eyes downcast and apparently very interested in her mismatched socks. I said nothing, figuring it was best to let her decide how she wanted to proceed. She came back around the counter and did as I was, continuing what she was about before everything happened. Deciding this meant she needed her space, I went about my business, finishing up the roast and popping it in the oven.

I walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, letting the loud brashness of the Arctic Monkeys fill my head as I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds coming from the kitchen. All the clanking and sizzling reminded me of the house in Chicago, sounding just like the noise my mother used to make as she puttered around the kitchen whilst cooking dinner every evening. It made me feel more at home in my apartment than I had in the entire time I'd lived there. It had always been just me, bumping around like a bumblebee in a bottle. Yes, Emmett and Jasper joined me on occasion, but if we were all together we usually went out. We never spent much time sitting about, gabbing like girls. We're men, you see.

I must have dozed off for a bit because before I knew it, there was a hand on my shoulder shaking me awake.

"Hwa?" I said, eyes half closed as I sat up from the rather undignified, slumped position I had been occupying on my couch.

I scrubbed my face with my hands, shaking my head to clear it of the post-snooze fog that was currently occupying it and praying to God I wasn't about to feel a string of drool to add to my undignified position. No drool. I was good.

As I stood and stretched, the hem of my shirt lifting up a bit as I leaned back to work the kinks from my spine, I heard a small "oh," which finally made me crack open an eyelid at the owner of the hand that had roused me from my slumber.

There was the girl, her eyes focused on the sliver of skin peeking from beneath the raised hem of my shirt. I will admit, I allowed myself a moment of self-satisfaction. Thank you, Emmett, for dragging my arse to the gym.

I stretched a moment longer, telling myself that my back was still in kinks (I have already admitted that I am a liar, so there) before exhaling forcefully and opening my eyes.

I fixed the girl with a blank, innocent stare. "Yes?"

I was proud to say that it took her a few seconds to realize I was talking to her. I was not proud to say that when she looked up, her expression went from "Mmm, yes, I could totally hit that," in a rather sexual manner to, "Mmm, yes, I could totally hit that," in a rather violent, calculated manner. Oh, dear. She was angry with me again.

Although, for the record, she was phenomenally sexy when angry. Just saying.