We continued to slide in the back yard for hours, laughing at ourselves when we fell or tripped. Soon we were soaked to the bone, our clothes heavy and sticking so our skin from the constant downpour. Though I began to tire, Edward's stamina remain steady.

Usually I avoided recreation. Needless to say (what with my impeccable grace), I was afraid of hurting myself. Edward, however, was quite the athlete. After being in track since 7th grade, he could run faster than anyone I knew, and still do it with grace. It wasn't the grace of a dancer. More of a predatory grace likes an animal that killed in the savanna sun.

There are so many more sophisticated, mature words that I could've used to describe him when he ran and slid, but the only thing I could think of was sexy. Maybe I shouldn't say that. I probably sound like a filthy-minded teenager. I am teenager, but am in no way filthy-minded. Yes, every once in a while, my thoughts would shift to the idea of Edward kissing me, running his hands up and down my sides. But was that so bad? Didn't usual teenagers have more graphic, explicit thoughts than I?

My reverie was interrupted my Edward strolling towards me, quietly singing. "Let your beauty unfold. Pale white, like the skin stretched over your bones. Spring keeps you ever close . . ."

"What song is that?" I asked.

He frowned for a moment, but then said, "The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot by Brand New."

"I like it." I smiled. "It's beautiful." But everything sounds good when it comes from your lips, I thought.

The frown faded from his face and was replaced by a blinding smile. "Glad you think so, love."

"Why did you frown?" I asked, changing the subject quickly.

"What?"

"When I asked you what the song was, you frowned," I explained slowly.

"Oh," he said. "No reason."

There was a moment of awkward silence before he said, "Think we should go get cleaned up?" He picked some mud and grass off of his green shirt.

I laughed. "Yeah, we probably should. You know, you have mud on your nose."

He laughed, too. "You do too, Bella. In fact, you also have it on your forehead, arms, hair, chin, and shirt." I looked down and saw that I did in fact have dirt streaked across my stomach and chest.

"Like you don't either!" I retorted. "At least I don't have it on my face like a pie." I grabbed a handful of mud and threw it at his beautiful face.

For a moment, he stood still in shock. After shutting his gaping mouth, he said, "I never thought that my sweet, innocent Bella could do that."

"Sweet, innocent?" I snorted. "Right."

"Oh," he said. "So if you're so devilish, I can be, too, right?" In a motion so quick that I almost became dizzy, he scooped up a glop of mud and threw it at me. Unlike him, my hands were small. With more capacity for the mud, much more hit me. From the peak of my forehead to my hips, I was covered completely in the dripping mess.

"Edward!" I screeched, but there was humor in my tone. I'm not sure if he heard me, due to the fact that he had doubled over laughing.

"Yes, love?" he managed to gasp between fits of laughter.

The gears in my head began to turn. Instead of the simple plan (to shove mud in his mouth) I had mapped out, it changed into something a bit more complex, yet would be much more fun. Well, at least for me.

My steps toward him were slow and steady, walking to an inaudible pulse. As I got closer to him, he froze. "Oh, nothing," I purred. "Nothing is wrong." My finger touched his collar bone lightly, dragging it down until it reached the middle of his stomach. He grabbed my wrist quickly.

"Bella," Edward said through clenched teeth. "That is not fair."

I leaned my head into the crook of his neck. "Hmm. After what you just did to me, I believe this is quite fair." With a great amount of strength I shoved him, sending face to meet the ground. "Ha!" I laughed.

My laughter was interrupted when he groaned, clutching at his shoulder. "Ouch," he hissed. Instead of the usual calm beauty that graced his features, they were scrunched in pain. He got into a sitting position, resting on the uninjured arm. He pushed off my hands when I attempted to touch him. I will admit, that was probably not near as painful as his shoulder.

"Edward, I'm sorry!" I cried. "I didn't mean to--"

"Push me?" he offered, the fury still lighting his green eyes,

"Well, I did mean to do that, but I didn't mean to hurt you. If there's anything I can do, just tell me," I said quickly. When he didn't answer, I looked toward his shoulder again. "Please tell me you aren't injured that deeply. For one, I can't live knowing that I hurt you. Two, I don't know First Aid. Being a Girl Scout was never high on my list."

"I think knowing that my girlfriend was able to push me hurt more than the joint," he said quietly. "But," He went to his knees, wiping off his elbow. "I suppose there is one thing you could do."

My head snapped up. "Anything," I said earnestly.

Edward stood to his feet, pushing me back gently into the mud. "Hey!" I huffed, but he ignored me. A beautiful smile made his face glow, just as if his shoulder had never hurt in the first place. Huh. His hands grabbed my ankles, forming a nearly unbreakable hold. He towed me by my feet through the yard, making the back of my shirt look more like it was brown instead of white. "Edward, stop it!"

"You know what, I don't think I will," he laughed. "This is too much fun!"

"Edward Masen!" I barked. "You better pray that I don't send the banshees onto your tail. Better yet, you better hope that I don't send Charlie after you."

He froze for a moment, terrified at what the consequences might be. He dropped my ankles. They fell to the ground with a painful thunk.

"Gotcha," I giggled. He sighed in relief. "Your shoulder was never hurt, was it?"

"I had to get you back somehow," he said. "Doing those things to me was not fair." He crossed his arms.

"It was very fair, in my opinion. I'll never be able to get all of this mud off! And for that, I can thank my loving boyfriend and his amazing throw."

He grinned. "We should play baseball sometime."

"Show--"

"Shh," he said. He inclined his head towards the door, listening. "Do you hear that?" he whispered.

Sure enough, I heard the tiny dangling of keys and someone calling, "Edward?"

"That would be my mother," he said quietly. "I don't know if this would be the best time for you to see her. Both of us being muddy, and all. And if she finds out that you stayed here last night - which she probably will - we're toast."

"Why is that?"

"She's been a tad paranoid after the crash. It's even hard for her to let me leave the house. Imagine how she'll react when she finds out that we slept in the same bed," he explained.

I grimaced. "What would we have done? Is kissing considered taboo?"

He laughed. "I repeat, sweet, innocent Bella."

"What? I don't understand," I whined.

"Uh, that's alright. I'll tell you some other time," he promised. "But as to the fact that my mother is inside, what do you suggest we do?"

I racked my brain for ideas quickly. "I don't know. I could sneak out the gate."

"And go home to your father like this? He'll be mad enough that you even stayed here last night. What do you think he'll say when he sees that you're covered in head to toe with mud and grass?"

"Good point. But I can't exactly go inside, either. If by some miracle that she doesn't see me, she'll see the mud tracks," I pointed out.

"Damn," he muttered. "We'll go for the gate then. I'll go find the hose and we can clean off."

I nodded.

"On three. One," he whispered.

"Two," I breathed.

"Three!"

As we sprinted towards the other end of the yard, I thought of when we had recently run from Charlie, leaving him to wonder where his little girl was. Though I wouldn't have changed my choice of staying with Edward last night, it was selfish of me to leave my own father wondering where I was. His mind could have wandered to so many terrible things. Had we been in a crash? Had I been kidnapped?

We fled through the wooden gait, both of us panting. Edward found the green garden hose by his mother's herb garden. I watched with wide eyes as the water slid slowly down his face and neck, lingering on the muscles of his chest. He handed the hose to me. "Your turn."

The water was ice cold, but it was still a relief to get the caked mud off of my body. Once finished, Edward suggested we talk a walk to dry off. It would give us a chance to talk.

"Bella, will you show me some of your art?" Edward asked.

"I don't know. It's hardly amazing," I muttered.

He chuckled. "You always doubt yourself. I'll bet it's great. What do you enjoy drawing?"

I smiled brightly. "I just finished a painting of a sunset that I did with some cheap acrylics. It's not necessarily focusing on the sunset, more the contrast of the sky and the water. I used some metallic colors too, so, hopefully that adds some interest to it. Before that, I did some charcoal work. I did a picture of Charlie. Somehow, I got him to pose for me. I also did one with a tiny plant holder with only a few leaves, but in its shadow, there are vines and flowers spilling out of the cup. It's my favorite that I've done."

"Did you ever think about making art a career?"

"Hmm. Maybe, I don't know. I'd love to do art for the rest of my life, but I don't know if the pressure of being a free-lance artist would be too much."

"You could teach art classes or lessons on the side," he suggested.

"What would I have to offer a child that wanted to do art?" I asked. "There's nothing I can teach them. They either make art, or they don't. You can't learn it, you simply do it. If you can see the object, it becomes your responsibility to transfer that. You can't learn those things."

He laughed. "What?" I laughed along with him. "Do you find that amusing, Mr. Masen?"

"No, it's just that you seem to have it all thought out. I'm not sure what to do with my future."

"Well, what so you have planned so far?"

He seemed to think for a moment, and then answered, "I've always planned on being a doctor. My mother encouraged me in that, and always told me to learn as much as I could about it. And then I started taking piano lessons." His eyes took on a dreamy gaze. "It may sound cheesy, but it felt like everything changed after that. I loved it, but you probably already knew that from last night when I played for you. Now I'm not sure of whether I want to be a composer or doctor. I suppose that being a doctor would be better, with saving lives and all that, but I also want to devote my life to music so much."

"Do both," I advised simply.

"What?"

"Do both."

"It's not that simple, Bella."

"Isn't it, though?"

He sighed. "With only doing medical studies, I'll spend years in college. Along with another major or minor, it'll be forever until I can finally get a job."

I grimaced. Maybe it was harder than I thought. "Which one makes you happier?"

"Composing," he said quickly.

"Then do that one."

"But don't you see?" he asked. "I'll be letting others die if I do that."

I fully faced him. "Edward." I took him by the shoulders. "Contrary to popular belief, there are others who will gladly do the job. You aren't the only person on earth that can stomach looking at blood and gore each day."

"True, but . . ."

"But what? This makes you happy. Do it," I said sternly.

He pulled me into his side. "I love you, Bella," he laughed.

"For what, helping you decide on a career?"

"No, for--"

Instead of hearing what I hoped would have been loving words, someone else hollered, "Isabella Marie Swan! Get in the cruiser now!

Joy.