I stared at the ceiling for a long time, nowhere near falling asleep.

Bella was upstairs.

In my bed.

In my clothes.

Fuck.

I'd been completely side swiped by her arrival at my door. I'd been thinking about last night all day, and then suddenly there she was. On my front steps.

Soaking wet, eyes glassy and beautiful and brown. Cheeks and nose pink, shaking like a leaf. She looked so...fragile. It made me nervous.

I'd spent most of my day in bed. I had gotten home around 5:15 in the morning and I was fucking beat. And even then it took me a while to get to sleep because all I could think about was kissing Bella again - in real time.

Her had been so soft when I finally laid mine against hers. She let out this low, soft moan that almost buzzed against my lips. Lost in her subconscious, she could still feel me there. The hum of her mouth against mine...God. I wanted more of that.

But my mind continued to scream at me that I had to slow down. I already felt like I was in over my head. I was already too...exposed.

It took all of my will power to leave her that morning. I wanted to kiss her everywhere. Slowly, gently, until she woke up and saw me there, loving her. I wanted her to ask me to make love to her and I wanted to oblige.

But instead I was forcing myself out her front door and into the dark of the early morning, reminding myself that life didn't work that way. That life shits all over everything good one way or another. Nothing lasts. People are fucked up. I'm fucked up. People leave. People die.

Nothing is guaranteed.

When I finally did fall asleep that morning, I slept through most of the day. I woke around three in the afternoon to eat some food, take care of Bosley and finish up some work. I never showered or got out of my pajamas. The house had taken on the kind of quiet that was perfect for working.

I sped through a few hours of painting, lost in it all until I could feel my stomach begging to be fed. I had just finished washing the dishes from my dinner when Bosley started barking at the door.

And then Bella was here.

I had hurried to get her out of her wet clothes, knowing that she could get sick from the cold and wet. I remembered once when I was about six or seven years old, my mother had gone for a walk to work in the gardens behind our house and got stuck in the rain. She spent the rest of the week in bed. No one let me see her. I didn't understand at the time. I thought she was going to die. Seeing Bella in front of me like that...I felt a familiar panic return to me.

I couldn't even feel stupid about leaving my wallet. In fact, I was glad I had. Because now Bella was here in front of me instead of silent on my canvas, or untouchable in my mind.

While Bella had been changing, I was frantically moving around the house. I bolted up to the studio and put away the sketches of her from earlier that afternoon. I draped my working canvases with a sheet, covering the work in progress that was all too familiar. I went down to the living room to start a fire, feeling the chill seeping into the house. Bella needed to be warm. I dug around in my cupboards trying to find coffee but only came up with a few packets of swiss miss.

She seemed content with that though. She was easy to please. I was beginning to notice that it took very little to make Bella happy. She liked simple things. There was an air of gratitude around her that humbled me. Her smile...it was just so genuine all the time. It always had me looking twice.

What really had me puzzled was how easy it was to forget things when she was around. She lifted a weight from me that had become too familiar. I found myself laughing. Dodging fucking marshmallow bullets like a kid. Goofing around just to see more of that smile.

And yet in an instant in the dark, I'd lost it again. We both had secrets. My curiosity about her was burning. But I couldn't expect much from her if I couldn't give in return. She had me there.

She'd asked about my scars. I grimaced at the thought of telling her how I got them. Who gave them to me. How those wounds had almost taken my life.

Too much, too soon.

I closed my eyes, trying to get comfortable on the couch. My mind retraced the night, floating back to small moments I'd cataloged. The softness of Bella when she fell against me. The swell of her breasts against my chest. The way her hand felt comforting and safe against my back when I had led her up the stairs. The way her eyes wandered down my body when I first opened the door.

Sleeping all day had fucked up my sleep cycle.

I rose from my spot on the couch to stoke the fire some more. I took my flashlight and ventured down into the basement, checking the breakers and flipping a few switches. The bulk of the storm had passed.

I briefly contemplated going upstairs to see if maybe I could steal another kiss.

I almost laughed out loud at myself, at the idiot pansy I was becoming.

I sat back down on the couch and turned on the flat screen above my mantle, checking the power. Luckily it had returned fairly quickly and whatever futzing around I did downstairs must have righted the problem in the house. I wondered if Alice had lost power too. I checked the football highlights and zipped through channels, not really interested in anything in particular. I pulled the afghan from the back of the couch and draped it over me, settling back into my couch cushions.

Maybe it was the warmth of the blanket or the dull noise of the tv. I don't know, but soon I was finally able to pass out.

But it wasn't long before I was awake again, startled by the wet nose of my dog just under the palm of my hand. I blinked a few times, trying to get the sleep out of my eyes. It was still dark out. I checked the clock. I'd only been asleep for a few hours. It was three in the morning.

And here was Bosley, looking anxious and nudging my hand with his snout.

He probably had to pee.

"Bos, you gotta go out?"

He whimpered, wiggling his butt until he sat down on the floor, looking at me expectantly. Usually if he had to pee, as soon as I said 'out' he would bolt to the door. So I took the sitting down as a resounding 'no.'

"What's wrong, bud..." I groaned. I had just gotten so comfortable in my spot on the couch, my body was begging me to stay.

My mind jolted awake as I remembered that Bella was upstairs.

Bosley was a worrier. Through the few years I'd had him, I'd noticed his intuition, his knack for sensing trouble or sadness, pain or fear. I'd say he was quite the empathic little fur ball. That's why I knew he'd stay upstairs and watch out for Bella. He'd already clearly grown attuned to her.

Something must be wrong.

I tossed the blanket aside and got up, hissing as my bare feet hit the cold hard wood. In minutes I was up the stairs and standing outside my bedroom door.

I could still hear rain pounding on the roof, but the thunder had lightened up.

The door was cracked a bit, I'd left it ajar in case Bosley had to go out or come and get me. I stood in front of it, listening for a moment.

Nothing. No sound. I pushed the door all the way open.

My eyes had adjusted to the early morning dark. It painted everything in a shade of blue.

I could see Bella's form in my bed from where I stood at the door. She'd kicked all the covers to the floor it seemed. She was rolled up in a tiny ball at the head of the bed. I quietly stepped into the room. I heard Bosley behind me, and whispered for him to sit and stay, to wait for me.

I crept a little closer. She was in the fetal position, knees to chest, arms tucked in, head and neck curled down towards her knees. And she was shivering.

Shit. Did she have a fever?

The floor underneath me groaned a bit as I came to the edge of the bed. I froze, expecting her to wake up. But just like the night before, she was dead to the world asleep. It seemed to me that it took a lot to wake her, she wouldn't even wake to find her own blankets when it was freezing cold.

I held my breath as I reached out to put my hand to her forehead. Her body seemed to calm ever so slightly at my touch.

No fever.

I let out the air in my lungs slowly, relief washing over me.

Her shirt had ridden up in her sleep, revealing a silver sliver of skin on her back and side. Flawless, porcelain. A birthmark that was almost the shape of a clover on her left hip.

I reached down and picked up the blankets from the floor, putting them over her and carefully tucking it under her ice cold feet. She stirred just a little, moving to pull the blankets tighter, catching my hand in the process. She had the edge of the blanket and my thumb in her grip.

I was holding my breath again, waiting to see what would happen.

She pulled me and the blanket up to her chest.

My hand was essentially smack dab in the middle of her breasts. She didn't whimper or snore, she didn't make any sounds or flinch and wake up. She just hummed once in her sleep, her hand resting on mine now. Right over her heart.

I wished I could feel more of her, but her sweater was too thick. But what I could feel was her warmth, radiating. Her heart beat against my palm. Calm. Slow. Gentle.

I couldn't even fucking think. There was just nothing in my mind. Nothing but her. Right now. Just like this.

I looked over her face. So peaceful.

She was just...beautiful.

Bosley nudged the back of my calf once before hopping up on the bed beside Bella. I had to smile as I watched him scoot close to her, resting his head on the bend in her knees and laying down against the back of her legs. Bella loosened her grip on my hand enough for me to slide away.

The two of them together like that put my whole world right for even the smallest moment.

What the fuck was I going to do?

Needless to say, I wasn't going back to sleep tonight.

I ended up puttering around the house until the windows lit with the first rays of sunlight. I kept an ear out for the creak of the first stair up on the second floor. It would be my signal that Bella was awake and coming down. I'd pulled her clothes out of the laundry and folded them for her. I was turning into Esme. Jesus...

I took a shower in the downstairs bathroom and pulled some clean clothes from a laundry basket in the laundry room. I rummaged around my fridge and cupboards, trying to figure out what the fuck Bella might like for breakfast. I made a kettle for some tea, and loaded my mug with sugar. I didn't have any honey in sight.

It was around 7:30 when I finally heard the top stair creak. I took a painfully hot gulp of tea and tried to look normal.

Bella peaked around the corner of the kitchen wall, Bosley right behind her. She looked rested and rosy cheeked. Her hair was a mess of curls. She looked so small in my clothes, the sleeves of my sweater well past her finger tips.

"Morning." she said softly, entering the kitchen almost cautiously.

"Hi."

Wow. I'm so articulate.

"Your clothes are dry, I left them on the banister." I said.

"Oh, thank you." she smiled up at me.

"Um...so I don't know what you like for breakfast. I mean, I have some eggs, but thats about it...I'm not really much of a cook..." I trailed off, a little embarrassed by my lack of preparation.

"Hmmm...well, how about I take you to breakfast? I owe you one for letting me stay."

"Nah, you don't have to-"

"Please, Edward? It's the least I can do." she looked so genuine. I couldn't say no.

"Alright." I sighed. "I'll tie your bike to my car and drop you off at the shop after."

"Perfect! Thank you." she smiled widely at me before she disappeared around the corner to change into her clothes.

About fifteen minutes later Bosley was whining as Bella and I said goodbye and then we were on our way.

I took the country roads closest to the river to get to my favorite diner. It was called Celia's. It was run by Celia herself, a sweet older woman who had come to know me pretty well. Often I'd run out of groceries and be too tired from a day in the studio to make myself something to eat. It was then I'd come down to her little diner on the pier.

I knew a short cut to get to the diner but I didn't take it. This way was much more scenic and if I was totally honest, I didn't want to take Bella home yet.

I watched her in my peripheral vision as I drove, sneaking full glances when I could. She had her head resting against the door just slightly, looking up at the trees. Fall was in full swing now and the foliage above us was bright with colors.

"Mmm...it's so beautiful out here. I love autumn." she commented. She had a small smile on her face as she looked out her window.

"Yeah, it's definitely my favorite time of year." I replied. "I used to love taking long drives on Sundays during the fall when I was a kid."

I stopped myself from speaking any further.

Why the fuck was I sharing this?

The truth was I did love long drives on Sundays in the fall. My mom would take me to church in the morning and afterwards take me for a drive.

But it wasn't just because it was beautiful out. She was stalling. Neither of us wanted to go home. Home was where reality lived. And neither of us liked him very much. So, Sunday morning mass and a fall drive was our excuse, our scapegoat, our small bit of peace.

It was also one of my favorite memories of my mother.

She used to have the same small smile as Bella as the leaves passed by our windows. I was taken aback for a moment as I realized how much Bella was reminding me of my mother right now.

Careful, Edward.

"Me too." she said. "I used to beg my dad to take me for drives like that when I couldn't stand being inside anymore."

"You mean you didn't go out and make huge leaf piles and jump into them?" I asked.

That's what normal kids did right?

I saw something flicker in her eyes. A distant sadness.

"Nope." she said, giving me nothing more on the subject but recovering with a smile.

"Hmm...well, neither did I really." I admitted.

I wasn't allowed. In fact until my teens I didn't spend much time outside of my own bedroom.

I could tell Bella wanted to ask why, but she thought better of it, knowing I would ask her the same. Another road block in the mystery that was Bella. Another wall of my own I wasn't sure I could let down. Not easily.

"Sounds like we both missed out." she said, looking at me with sad eyes, but a soft smile. "Maybe one of these days we should try it." Her smile turned to a cheeky grin.

"Do acquaintances do that?" I asked, genuinely hoping that they did.

"I don't know..." she said, narrowing her eyes at me and smirking. "I think you want to be my friend, Edward Masen."

I laughed, unable to hide the grin on my face. She was more than right.

"Baby steps." she giggled. "Baby steps..."

The front door on Celia's Diner chimed once as we stepped in. We shuffled our feet on the welcome mat, trying to get rid of the wetness left from the damp ground. The rain had let up a bit, now a misty moisture in the air hung and the skies were still a little grey.

The place wasn't very full just yet. The main rush of people would come in around nine. Bella and I had been up earlier than I'd thought. I was quick to find my favorite booth. The two of us were just shrugging out of our jackets when I heard Celia.

"Mr. Masen! Here on an early mornin'. I had you pegged for my regular night owl."

Celia was about five foot nothing. She had the face of someone's fairy godmother, the round, pink cheeked look of Mrs. Claus, and the southern drawl of Paula Dean. She was a matriarchal dreamboat.

"Hi Celia," I said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

She turned bright red. Happened every time.

"Oh, cut it out, you. Making me positively pink before my breakfast rush..."

She turned to look as Bella and gave me a sly smile.

"How do you do, darlin'? I'm Celia." she introduced herself, reaching out a hand to Bella. She took it and gave her a warm smile in return.

"Nice to meet you, Celia, I'm Bella."

"Oh please, you two, sit down, have a seat. You must be new in town then, Miss Bella?"

"I am actually. How did you know?"

"Well, I hate to toot my own horn, but nobody in this little town can resist my home fries. I know just about everyone and their mamas by now."

I watched Bella as she listened to Celia. She was glowing with this smile on her face. The sunlight that was finally starting to peak through the clouds came down through the window and onto her hair, illuminating its colors and those flecks in her eyes. She looked like a painting.

"Well then, it looks like you'll be seeing more of me." she replied. Celia was taken with her already. I could tell. She looked over at me and raised her eye brow, eyes twinkling with an approving light.

"It sure is nice to see you with some company, Edward. And such lovely company at that." she winked at me. "Let me get you folks some coffee. I'll be right back."

When she had disappeared behind the counter I heard Bella giggle.

"She's adorable, Edward. No wonder this is your favorite diner."

"Yeah, she's a great lady. And she wasn't joking about those home fries. They are seriously amazing."

I could smell the coffee before it reached our table.

Celia set down a mug in front of each of us before plopping an extra handful of sugar packets next to me, making Bella laugh.

"What can I get you two to eat?"

Bella ordered a spinach omelette with a side of those famous home fries. I order the Eggs Benedict with the same. My stomach was growling at me. Every time I came here, I ate like a king.

A brief silence settled over the two of us. I felt like there were so many questions I had, so much I wanted to know about Bella, but I was too afraid to ask. The more I knew, the easier it was to get attached. I was too invested already as it was. The push and pull in my own head was enough to drive me crazy. I knew Bella's patience with me would run out eventually. Maybe that was for the best.

She had a curious look in her eyes that put me on edge. She was going to ask me questions.

Please don't, Bella. Just let me look at you. Tease me about my sugar intake or comment on the weather. Don't ask me questions I can't answer.

Please, not yet.

"So," she started. "You're a painter, then?"

Dammit.

"I am."

I swallowed thickly and fidgeted in my seat. My art was so connected to my pain that I knew I had to be vague in order to avoid talking about it. I could feel the good mood I'd had in the car begin to erode.

"Did you always love art? Or was it something you discovered a long the way?" she asked. I could see by the way she was watching me that she really, genuinely wanted to know. I wasn't used to this.

"I don't know...I guess I just sort of...fell into it." I replied. I didn't feel like telling her about how my coping mechanism had become my career.

"When did you start painting?"

"I was around 16."

"Can I see your work someday?"

No.

"Yeah...maybe."

She smiled, but her eyes were wary of me. I knew it too, I could feel my anxieties start to shut me down. Too many questions. I couldn't answer them all. Not really. I could see in the tightness in her eyes that she was becoming annoyed with my short, nondescript answers.

"I remember you said you lived in Forks until you were sixteen, did moving to a new place inspire your work?"

It was an innocent question. I knew that. But the memories attached to the answer...I didn't want to see them. Or talk about them.

"I guess you could say that." I answered cryptically, my tone clearly annoyed.

I reverted to the skills I'd developed over the years - playing a role. My face became a mask of indifference and hardness. I made it visibly clear that I was not going to answer, to elaborate, to share. I felt my annoyance flare, as it did little to deter her curiosity.

I took a sip of my coffee and looked up to see Bella watching me. She had her hands wrapped around the warmth of her coffee cup, her arms pulled in tight to her body. Her head was just slightly tilted to the side, observing me. I felt transparent, uncomfortable. And yet torn. A very small, buried part of me wanted her to see me. I was just afraid once she did, she would run away. I wasn't ready for that.

"...what?" I finally asked. My tone was sharper than I intended. Bella's eyes narrowed, noticing it. I tried to soften my gaze, lowering it to the tower of mini coffee creamers she was beginning stacking haphazardly in between us. She sighed, her hands stopping and disappearing underneath the table.

"I don't know..." she said, looking out the window briefly before her eyes met mine again. Piercing, curious, direct. "I guess I'm just trying to figure you out. But you don't want me to. I keep hoping that you might..." she shrugged once with a disappointed smile.

"There's not much to figure out, Bella." I said it calmly. But I could feel the coldness in my own voice. I was unable to look her in the eye, knowing I was full of shit.

She knew it too.

She snorted once, and raised her eyebrow at me.

"I'm sure that must be the case." she replied sarcastically. She sighed once, almost in defeat. "I just...I'm just curious about you, is that so wrong?"

I could feel the bite in my voice but somehow couldn't stop the irritated tone in my voice.

"There are certain things I don't talk about. Simple as that. Maybe you should ask different fucking questions."

"Maybe you should stop being a pussy." she snapped. Her eyes were alight with annoyance. I had forgotten for moment, that Bella didn't take my shit.

And for about 10 seconds I lingered on the memory of her little mouth forming the word, 'pussy.'

It was a surprise in two ways. The first being that I hadn't heard much foul language come out of Bella's mouth. The second...well. I'm a dude. Automatically I was taking her voice, that word, out of context and fitting it into my shower fantasies.

I was beginning to feel less and less in control. And I wasn't liking it. I was hating it. I needed to turn the tables. I'd have to pull out some stops.

"Well, you yourself are quite the mystery, Miss Swan." I sneered. "Alice tells me...what did she say? Oh, right. 'Bella haslotsandlots of allergies.' I don't need to be interrogated by some ex cop's pill popping daughter."

The look on her face made me hate myself.

Loathe myself.

She didn't look mad, shocked, or upset. She didn't even look hurt. She just looked...lost. The emotions that were usually so easy to read in her eyes were just gone. She had shut down.

I opened my mouth to speak once or twice, but no words came out.

One of Celia's waitresses came to our table to drop off our food. She was, luckily, oblivious to the tension radiating from our table. It looked like she had just clocked in and was running a little late. She left just as quickly as she came, leaving our plates of food to come sit with us in the middle of this awkward silence.

I didn't really know what to do. I half expected Bella to get up and leave.

But she unrolled the silver diner utensils from her paper napkin, shook some pepper over her spinach omelette and took a bite with her fork. She was going to stick this out. I watched as she chewed and swallowed and then looked up at me, square in the eye. Her gaze leveled me. She cleared her throat before she spoke.

"I didn't go to school on the reservation. I was sick." she said, her tone even and calm, unaffacted. "I've been sick for most of my life."

I faltered a little, closing my eyes her words sunk in. Her brutal honesty was meant to make a point, and I was hearing her loud and clear.

"Bella - I..."

"Please. Save it." she interrupted. "I'm not a china doll anymore Edward. In fact, I never was - not where it counted. You don't give me enough credit."

It was quiet for a few minutes. Bella continued to eat, showing no signs of weakness in front of me. But I could feel her anger and frustration. I hadn't touched my food.

I was completely thrown and I only knew a few things at that moment. 1) This morning had bombed. Hard. 2) Bella was sick. Is sick? Was she dying? 3) I was a royal asshole.

"Can I ask. wh-" I started to ask about her illness, but she silenced me quickly.

"No. You can't." she said calmly, not looking up from her plate.

Shit. God, I'm so dumb. I'm so fucking dumb.

"Listen...Bella...I'm so-"

"Don't." she put a hand up to stop me.

She put her fork down and sat back against the booth, taking a deep breath and fiddling with the handle on her coffee cup. Half her food was still on her plate.

What she said next had me holding my breath.

"I wanted you to kiss me, Edward...in the stairwell that day..." she said quietly. Despite the fact that she was being completely honest and direct with me, her cheeks became pink and she couldn't look me in the eye. But she continued anyway.

Bella was....brave.

"Even against my better judgement, I wanted you to kiss me." she finally raised her eyes to mine. "And I think that even against your better judgement, you want to know me."

She sighed, looking out the window once before looking back at me.

"We don't owe each other anything. But don't you think we owe it to ourselves to just...figure it out? You don't have to spill every deep, dark, secret you've ever had. But you can't be the only one who gets to hide. And you don't get to treat people like an asshole. That's not how it works. At least not with me. If I'm only worth knowing a fraction of who you are - then don't bother."

Her voice was calm and collected, even though I could see she was wringing her hands just slightly in her lap.

She waited for me to speak, but I didn't know what to say. Once again, Bella had called me out. I was a coward.

She reached into her pocket and threw a couple bills on the table. She took a kids coloring crayon from a jar by the condiments on our table and wrote something down on a napkin.

"Call me when you decide what you want...a-and thanks for taking care of me last night." she said in defeat. She grabbed her keys and left, leaving me dumbfounded and alone with a cold breakfast and a million more questions.

Bella wanted me to kiss her.

And I was doing a pretty fucking efficient job of fucking everything up. That's what I'm good at.

Goddammit, Edward.

I looked down at the napkin to find Bella's phone number in the waxy residue of a red crayon. Celia's voice snapped me out of it.

"Mr. Masen? Where did your lady friend go?"

"She, uh...had to..." I trailed off, looking out the window, unable to see her anymore. I grabbed the napkin and stuffed it in my pocket, scooting out of the booth and heading towards the door. I whipped it open, searching the parking lot, only to find my car with empty bike ties and no bike.

And no Bella.

"Mr. Masen? Honey, your food is goin cold. You want me to wrap it for you?" Celia said from the door, looking me over with concern.

"Oh...uh...yeah. Thanks, that'd be great..." I followed her back in the diner to the booth, grabbing the jacket I'd left.

"Want me to wrap Miss Bella's too?"

"No, she won't be back."

"...oh...I see."

Celia put on a weak smile for me, nodding once before disappearing with my plate. Minutes later she had returned with a neatly wrapped box and some peppermint candies for my pocket.

She reached up on her tip toes and planted a kiss on my cheek.

"Keep your chin up, love. Every good thing is worth working for." she winked at me and told me to stop by again soon.

I got in my car and pulled out the napkin Bella had left me. I wanted to call her. To go after her. But somehow I couldn't.

I just couldn't.

Hi everyone! Sorry about the delay! I'll do my best to make sure it doesn't happen too much. It's my very last semester of college so I am, of course, a nut job. More chapters to come! Stay tuned :) And you know what to do... ;)