More EPOV. Enjoy!

"Hey, Cullen, you coming to Shenanigans tonight?"

I look up from my book. James is staring at me. He looks completely baked, but by now, I'm used to that.

"What the fuck is Shenanigans?"

"It's new bar in town. Supposed to be pretty sweet. Lauren's banging the owner. Apparently he said all her friends could drink for free. Tonight only."

It's tempting. I'm kind of sick of my own company, and God knows, I could use a drink. Or five.

"Yeah, maybe." I look over at Bella. Heidi is sitting behind her and braiding her hair. They're laughing about something, but as soon as she makes eye contact with me, her face drops. "Is Swan going?"

"I guess. I think everyone's going. You should come. It'll be fun."

"I'll think about it."

I do. I think about it for the rest of the day. I think about having a few drinks for courage and then pulling Bella onto the dance floor. I fantasize about wrapping my arms around her as we dance.

Halfway through the fantasy, Bella pushes me away to go and dance with another guy. I almost lose my lunch.

Yep. Trust my brain to jump to the most paranoid conclusion possible.

I weigh up my options: 1. Go and have a chance of spending time with Bella and possibly touching her. 2. Go and watch her longingly but don't have the balls to actually make contact. 3. Stay home and imagine her flirting with every guy in the place, because if I'm not there, my stupid brain will automatically conjure up the worst-case scenario like the asshole it is.

Considering two and three suck harder than a collapsing star, I decide to go with one, but to say I'm nervous is a massive understatement. She's been pretty cold since I pulled that stunt in the lighting cage. I don't really blame her, but I don't know how make it up to her. I'm hoping tonight might provide the opportunity.

When I get home after class, Alice has cooked dinner. She's a pretty awesome cook, but my stomach doesn't want to cope with food, so I pick at it like a teenage girl. Then I rub one out in the shower while fantasizing about Bella, because, well, that's my routine these days. When I'm done, I spend an embarrassing amount of time pondering what to wear. Obviously lack of sex is turning me into a girl. I eventually go for the same dark jeans and shirt I wear every goddamn day.

Good one, Cullen. She's sure to throw herself at you now.

When I'm just about to leave, I pester Alice to come with me, because in the event I crash and burn, I can always delude myself that I only went so my sister could have a good time.

Unfortunately, it takes my tiny sister an hour to get ready, so by the time we get there, the party is in full-swing. Loud music throbs through the floor, and I get a rush of anticipation as I imagine Bella grinding against me.

Near the front door, Lauren is hanging off some middle-aged dude, and she directs us up some stairs to a private room where the noise level is less ear-shattering. When we get there, nearly our whole class roars a drunken welcome. Well, everyone except Bella who looks at me coldly and then goes back to drinking what looks like the world's pinkest cocktail. She's with Rose who gives me her usual ball-shriveling glare before turning her back on me.

Yeah, that girl really doesn't like me.

I order a beer and get Alice something creamy that the girl behind the counter swears is 'totes awesome.' Then I pretend to talk to Yorkie and James while I ogle the outfit Bella is wearing. Clearly, she's determined to torture me, because her dress is short and tight, and she has her hair up in a ponytail. I want to fall to my knees in front of her and push my face into her panties. Or better yet, pull down her panties and push my face into her.

Fuck.

I sigh and take a mouthful of beer. I'm so tired of being hard when I'm around her. It's draining as hell.

"Cullen?"

A hand slaps my shoulder and I turn to see Yorkie shaking his head. James has disappeared.

"What?"

"Dude, I've been talking to you about the bartender chick who's been eyefucking you since you walked in. You seriously have zero attention span when Swan's around, don't you? Not that I blame you. She looks fucking hot tonight. If you don't make a move, I sure as hell will."

I glare at him. "Touch her and I break your hand."

He laughs. "Yep. That's what I thought."

There's a blast of sound as the door opens and Riley walks in with some guy I've never seen.

"Oh, crap," Yorkie mutters as he nudges me. "Your arch nemesis has arrived, and he's brought his hot, soldier-boy brother. Shit's about to get real."

I try to stay calm when Riley's around, but it's pretty much fucking impossible. There's just something about him that makes me want to beat the crap out of him. Oh, yeah, that's right: he wants to date my girlfriend. Well, ex-girlfriend. Sort of ex. Shit.

Bella.

He wants to date my Bella.

Prick.

I grip my beer as he walks over to Bella's group and starts hugging them all. He's such a fucking hugger it makes me want to tear his arms off. Who the fuck needs to hug everyone all the time? It's annoying as hell.

It doesn't escape my attention that when he gets to Bella, he hugs her longer than anyone else. I smile a little when I see her pull back.

Suck it, huggy-boy. She's not interested.

That's my mantra every time he's near her. She's not interested.

It's the only way I get through some days without raging like a jealous freak.

Everyone smiles as he introduces his brother and I immediately see Rose's face light up. Pretty sure she's aiming to introduced to his cock in the near future. The mental image immediately morphs to Bella and me. God, what I'd give to have Bella's mouth on me. Just for a few minutes. Or hours. And it doesn't have to be my cock, either. She could just kiss me. My mouth, my neck, my chest. Wherever the hell she wanted to. Just as long as she was touching me, and letting me touch her.

She glances over at me, and although it seems like she doesn't plan on looking into my eyes, she does, and whatever she sees there sticks her to the spot. She inhales, and her mouth drops open.

Oh, yeah. She knows exactly what I'm thinking about.

Is she thinking about it, too? Fantasizing about all the things I could do to her if we both weren't such stubborn assholes?

I drain the rest of my beer.

This is getting ridiculous. I either need to do something or get the fuck out of here. This constant state of arousal is bad for my health.

Riley says something to her, and she turns away. I slam my bottle down on the bar in frustration.

"Can I get you another?"

The bartender chick is leaning over, showing me her wares. I look because, well, they're boobs and I'm a man, but they're not the boobs I want. The ones I'm fantasizing about are much smaller and far less silicone-y, and the softest fucking things on the planet. They fit into my hands perfectly. Respond to my mouth. Jiggle when she laughs and heave when she comes. They're the most amazing boobs on the planet because they're hers, and it's been way too long since I've had the pleasure of touching them.

I aim to rectify that tonight.

"No, I'm good," I say to the girl's hopeful face. "But thanks anyway."

She follows my gaze back to Bella, who's alternating between pretending to listen to Riley and watching me over his shoulder. She's so beautiful, it hurts my chest to look at her.

"Lucky girl," bartender-chick says.

"She doesn't think so."

"Why?"

"Because I'm an asshole."

"Uh huh. You might want to do something about that, then."

"Yeah, so I keep telling myself."

"Talk is for boys. Action is for men."

"You say that like the thought of crashing and burning doesn't shrivel my balls to the size of grapes."

She laughs. "Failure isn't the opposite of success, it's part of success. Failure becomes success when we learn from it."

I stare at her for a few seconds. "Are you an alcohol-serving therapist or something? Because that would be the sort of therapy I could get on board with."

"Nope. Just working through my own issues right now."

"How?"

"Doing some reading."

I scoff. "Yeah, like a book is going to help me."

"Have you tried?"

"No. But I also haven't tried crystals and numerology. Odds are they're also going to be useless."

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, because the written word and hokey mysticism are the same thing."

"I'm just saying -"

She bitch-brows me and then scribbles something on a cocktail napkin. "Seems to me like you're just making excuses to stay all fucked up and comfortable. Do you want to be a man or a boy?"

She thrusts the napkin at me, and I take it. There's a list of books on it.

She leans forward. "They're all available at that bookshop on Columbus. Stop making excuses and do something worthwhile."

With that, she heads down to the other end of the bar, and I'm left there, feeling like someone just punched me in the head with an unexpected dose of practical wisdom.

When I turn back to Bella, she's pissed.

Crap.

Yeah, to her, it wouldn't have looked like I was having a pep talk/therapy session. It would have looked like I was chatting up the busty blond and getting her number.

Goddammit.

Just what I need.

I suck up my nerves and walk over to her. She pretends to ignore me. Riley, at least, acknowledges my presence.

"Cullen."

"Biers."

It's primitive, but about as civil as the two of us are going to get.

"Bella, can I speak to you?"

I don't miss Riley's subtle eye-roll. Fucker.

That's right, son. You're a boy and I'm a man. Talk to her all you like. I'm acting.

Unfortunately, Bella doesn't see it that way.

"I have nothing to say to you."

Riley couldn't have looked prouder if she'd dropped to her knees and blown him in front of me.

"Well, then," I say, taking her hand, "dance with me, and I promise to keep my mouth shut the entire time."

I pull her gently, and although she's scowling, she follows. Riley's face drops. Fuck him. This is about her and me. He's just an annoying distraction.

When we exit the room, the music is so loud, I feel it in my bones. I lead Bella to the dance floor and completely ignore her dark mood as I pull her into my arms and press against her.

Jesus.

Bliss.

She's tense, but it doesn't last long. I tighten my arms. She all but melts into my chest, and when her cheek presses against my shoulder I can suddenly breathe easier than I have in weeks.

It's crazy that I can miss someone so much, even though I see her every day. I miss her all soft and pressed against me. I want her like this all the time, but I think I've screwed up too much for that to happen.

I wonder if the bartender was right. Could I go on some kind of self-help kick that would help me get her back? Could I be the open, unguarded boyfriend she deserves? Could I be all loving and huggy like asshole Biers? Stop all the internal whispers that make me act like a selfish, destructive creep?

It'd be nice.

Just unlikely.

"I didn't think you liked blondes," she says, harsh in my ear.

"I thought you didn't have anything to say to me."

"I was wrong. You're an asshole."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"So, are you going home with her?"

I pull back. "Are you seriously asking me this?"

"Edward, I saw her give you her number."

"No you didn't."

"I'm pretty sure I did."

"No, you saw her give me a napkin with writing on it."

"And the writing wasn't her number?"

"No."

"What was it then?"

I smile. "Book suggestions."

"Oh, yeah, 'cause she looks like a big reader."

I laugh and pull the napkin from my pocket. She squints at it.

"I can't read in this light."

"But you can see it's not her phone number, right?"

"I suppose."

I stow the napkin and put my arms around her again. She sighs.

"Do you know how freaking sexy you are when you're jealous?"

"I'm not jealous."

"Oh, so you wouldn't care if Blondie took me home and did bad things to me?"

She's almost quick enough to stop the look of hurt on her face but not quite. "Why should I care? I have no claim on you. You can sleep with whoever you like."

"That's bullshit, and you know it. As if any other woman is ever going to compare to you."

For a moment, she's shocked into silence, then she says, "When you say things like that it makes me think you're either truly desperate to get laid, or drunk."

"I'm not drunk. I can't say it because it's true?"

"That not usually your style."

"Well, maybe my style is changing."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

I pull her tighter against me. "Fuck, woman, can I please just take you home and put us both out of our misery? I'm in pain, here. Actual, physical pain."

"I'm not having sex with you tonight, Edward."

"Okay. Just oral, then?"

"No. Aren't you forgetting the conversation we had in the lighting cage? We're not going there, remember?"

I press my lips against her ear and whisper, "Bullshit. 'There' is where we live. Thinking about each other. Fantasizing. Touching ourselves to relieve the tension. Don't you want me to touch you, Bella? Take away that hungry little ache? I could make it disintegrate, over and over again."

Her breath is fast on my neck, and goddamn, I need to touch her. She tightens her hands on my waist, and I stop breathing as one hand trails around to the front of my jeans. She brushes against the hard line of me, and I drop my head onto her shoulder.

"God, yes. Touch me."

She drags her fingernails across the denim, and it feels like she's restraining herself from tearing open my fly right here on the dance floor. I'm so horny, I wouldn't stop her. I don't give a fuck that there are people all around us and our friends are probably watching. I need her more than anything except air right now. Public humiliation, be damned.

"I'm not having sex with you, Edward," she reminds me, and I groan because all I can think about is being inside her. I'd beg, but apparently 'stubborn and proud' trumps 'horny'. For the moment at least.

The song ends and she steps away. I hate the distance between us like it's a physical being. I want to murder it, slowly and painfully. She turns to go back up the stairs, but I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her back against me.

"Let me take you home tonight," I say as she circles her ass against my erection. "No sex. I'll just drive you home. Alice will be with me."

"I'm here with Rose," she says, all breath and moan as I graze my lips across her neck.

"I'll take her home too, if that's what she wants, but I'm pretty sure she's going home with Biers's brother."

"I'll think about it."

"You do that."

I let her go and follow her upstairs, because what the hell else am I going to do?

We spend the next three hours pretending to not follow each other around the room. It's exhausting. I just want to be with her.

Around one a.m. Alice tracks me down and says she want to leave. I tell her I've offered Bella a ride home and she raises her eyebrow in a way that suggests she knows exactly what my intentions are.

I find Bella in a booth with a whole bunch of people, including Riley. She looks bored. As I predicted, Rose and Biers's brother have already left.

I lean over and whisper, "Alice and I are bailing. You want to come?" After I've said it, I realize the double meaning and seriously hope she says yes.

To my surprise, she does. "Yeah, I'm pretty wiped."

When she moves to stand, Riley touches her arm. "Hey, if you want to hang around, I could give you a ride home. I'm going to be leaving soon anyway."

She pauses.

Goddammit, Biers.

Of course she's considering it. He's the safer option. He'll be all huggy and supportive and shit, while I'm unpredictable and put pressure on her in all the wrong ways. But safe is also boring, and I think, deep down, Bella likes a little danger.

"Thanks, Riley, but I'll go with Alice and Edward. I'll see you guys on Monday, okay?"

We all say our goodnights and walk out with Alice and Bella linking arms. It's obvious they've been drinking, but they're giggly rather than falling down.

When we get to the car, they both decide to sit in the back and let me chauffeur them. I'm bummed that Bella's not up the front with me, but at least now I can look at her in the mirror without being too obvious.

They giggle and whisper, and by the time we pull up outside Bella's apartment, the level of girliness has reached epic proportions.

"Aw, don't go," Alice says, clinging to her. "Come to our place. We can watch movies and I'll give you a facial. We both know Rose isn't coming home tonight, and I'm sick of spending time with Moody McBroodster here."

I glare at her in the mirror. "You know I can hear you, right?"

"Shut up. You can't deny you're a pain in the ass. Please, Bella. Grab your toothbrush and pajamas and come. We'll have a blast. In the morning, I'll make you pancakes. Or better still, Edward will make us both pancakes. His are far better than mine."

When I turn around, Bella looks into my eyes, and I try not to look as desperate as I feel. I want to spend time with here, even if it's platonic. I'd prefer to be naked with her, but having my sister around might make that awkward.

"Uh ... all right," Bella says as she opens the door. "Give me five minutes."

When she's gone, I turn to Alice. "What are you doing?"

She shrugs. "I miss her. I hardly ever see her any more because of you. So don't screw this up, or I will hurt you."

I get the feeling there's more to it, but I let it go.

Half an hour later, we're back at my place and sitting around in our pajamas. The girls have picked out John Hughes movies. Really? I mean, some of his stuff is funny, but so much is just unrealistic romantic bullshit. Sixteen Candles? There's no fucking way Jake had any reason to fall in love with Andi except that it was convenient for a happy ending.

Still, I sit there and watch, because Bella's there and being around her is better than any rom-com ever made.

We make it through 'Sixteen Candles' and move onto 'Pretty in Pink'. I roll my eyes. How Andrew McCarthy got to be a movie star, I'll never know. He's about as sexy as a piece of overcooked spaghetti. Still, the girls swoon over him. I seriously don't get it.

About halfway though, my constant eye-rolling has taken it out of me, so I stretch out on the couch while the girls curl around cushions on the floor. I only close my eyes for a second, but when I open them again, the movie has finished and Alice has disappeared. I rub my eyes and yawn. Bella is asleep on the floor. She's so beautiful, I don't want to wake her, but sleeping on the floor is never a good idea. I attempt to scoop her up, but I'm half-asleep and the angle is all wrong so I just end up falling on top of her. She wakes with a start and slaps wildly at me.

"Hey, it's okay," I say, grabbing her hands. "It's just me. You feel asleep."

She blinks a few times and focuses. "Oh. Why are you on top of me?"

"I fell."

"Sure, you did."

"What, you think I'm desperate enough to molest you while you sleep?"

"Yes."

"Okay, valid point. But the truth is, I wanted to be all manly and carry you into the bedroom, but gravity made me her bitch."

I stand up and offer my hand.

She takes it and I pull her to her feet. "What time is it?"

"Around five. Come on. You can sleep in my bed."

She gives me a look.

"Alone," I say to clarify. "I'll sleep out here on the couch. Come on."

I lead her into the bedroom. Then I pull back the covers and gesture for her to get in.

She looks at it for a few seconds. "You don't have to give up your bed for me."

"I know. But I'm trying to be a gentleman. Plus, if I can't get lucky with you, at least my bed can press against you."

She smiles. "You're infuriating, you know that?"

"Why? I'm being nice."

"I know. Sometimes, you seem so ... normal. And then ... I don't know."

Strangely, I understand exactly what she means. Sometimes, I feel like I could absolutely be with her and be the man she deserves, but at other times, I want to run away as far as I can, because I know that I'm going to fuck up, over and over again, and keep hurting her in the process.

"Yeah, well, okay then. Sleep well."

She takes a deep breath and nods. "Okay. 'Night."

We both just stand there for a second, me not leaving and her not getting into bed.

"You know," she says, "a gentleman would kiss a lady goodnight. On the cheek."

"Only on the cheek?"

"Yes."

"Oh, well, in that case ..." I step forward and she's right there, inches away and looking up at me. I cup her face then press my lips to her cheek and just stay there. Breathe in her smell. I pull back and kiss her again, closer to her mouth this time. I want to kiss her so badly, the need of it pounds through every single artery, but I need for her to ask for it. I can't be alone in wanting this so much.

"Edward?"

"Hmmm?"

"I'm not having sex with you."

"Okay."

"But I really want you to kiss me."

"Fuck, yes."

I just about fall to my knees and thank God. Instead, I tilt her head and kiss her. At first it's gentle, and we kind of freeze because the force of just pressing our lips together does crazy things to both of us. It makes the air rush into our lungs and our blood race way too fast. Within about three seconds I'm completely hard, and the whole concept of us not having sex fades like a distant and unimportant memory.

God, what she does to me with just a single brush of her tongue. That tiny touch sets everything on fire. I want her everywhere, all around and over me. Stripped bare and open to my hands, and mouth, and dick. I want all of her skin. All of it. Warm and sweet.

Want.

I palm her breast and groan. It's so soft. So perfect. I pull down her tank so I can really feel her, and the way her back arches tells me she wants more than just my hand. I give her my mouth. I'm so hungry for her, I'm afraid I'm being too rough, but she tugs at my hair, so I figure she's enjoying it.

Within seconds the tank is annoying me, so I tear it off and toss it on the floor. She seems to be having the same issue with my t-shirt because she tugs at it like it's offending her. I yank it over my head and stagger backward when she launches at my chest and trails kisses all over, making me dizzy and out of my mind. When she tongues my nipple, I nearly fall over.

I pull her against me and the sensation of her naked breasts against my chest is too much. I need to sit the hell down.

I pull her with me onto the bed, and we're a mess of limbs and mouths, and desperate grinding. I know she said we couldn't have sex tonight, but goddammit, it's getting to the point where stopping is going to be nearly impossible.

"Bella ..." I whisper, so desperate I can barely speak. "Please ..."

I try to pull down her pants, but she stops me. I kiss her and try again. I get them over her hips before she pushes at my chest and says, "Edward, stop."

It takes every last ounce of my self-control to roll off her, but I do it. She exhales and gets off the bed.

"Shit. Wait. Don't go. I'll behave myself. I promise."

She walks to the door and closes it.

"I'm not going anywhere," she says and pulls off her pajama pants. "And if you're going to behave yourself then I'm leaving. I just didn't want to scar Alice for life if she happens to wake up and wonder where I am."

She flicks the lock on the door and then walks back to me in just her panties. I think I stop breathing.

I love this woman so fucking much, and it's a crime that I've screwed things up too much to tell her that.

She lies down beside me and puts her hand in my pants. When her fingers curl around me, I squeeze my eyes shut and concentrate on not coming. It isn't easy, especially when she strokes me, long and slow, and kisses my neck in the way she know drives me insane.

"Tell me you want me," she whispers, and moves down to my chest.

"God, Bella ... I want you. Can't you tell how much?"

And I love you. You deserve to know, but I don't think you're ready. Neither am I. Not yet.

She tugs at my pants, and within seconds, I've kicked them off and have removed her panties. I make quick work of a condom, and then it's just us, naked and kissing, and for long minutes we live in that incredible moment of anticipation when I roll between her legs and hold myself there, savoring the seconds before we both get sweet relief.

That moment is such a miracle to me. Physiological alchemy. The ecstatic transition from vicious ache to warm exhale as I push myself into her, sighing as all the wrong parts of both of us line up to form one perfect being.

I thrust, slow and deep. God, how she feels. How she makes me feel. I groan and kiss her. She makes noises in my mouth every time I fill her. Plaintive, needy noises. I give her more. All of me. She arches and sighs, and I'm holding my breath to stop myself coming.

She said we weren't going to have sex tonight, and she was right. This isn't sex. It's so far beyond 'sex' it's not appropriate to even mention them in the same breath.

I watch her face as I bring her pleasure. It's the most beautiful thing I'll ever see. She keeps her eyes closed because I know that's how she copes, but my eyes are wide open. They have been for a while now. I want hers open too. Her low expectations are my fault. If I asked her for more she'd probably laugh in my face.

At least she lets me have this. As much distance as she tries to put between us, she can't deny the intimacy as we rock against each other and chase down feelings we can't get from anyone else.

But even as the low pulses start firing and my brain fades into a haze of thrusting and groaning, she keeps me grounded. Her voice. The way she says my name. The desperation of her fingernails in my shoulders. All of it.

All of her.

She gives me so much but still holds back a little. I can see her trying to embrace the pleasure but stifle the emotion. I want to tell her she doesn't have to, but I'd be lying. We're both playing with fire here, but at least she's smart enough to take precautions. I'm rolling around in kerosene and just praying our sparks don't incinerate me.

When I watch her come, I want to cry because she's so fucking incredible. And when I eventually let myself go, I bury my head in her neck because I'm afraid if she sees how much stupid love is on my face, she'll know how far gone I am and use it against me.

So we both close our eyes and grip each other as our bodies spasm and seize, and when we can breathe again, the familiar pressure of her hands on my chest urges me off. I'm not ready to let her go, but I have to. She's not ready for snuggling.

I get rid of the condom and take it into the bathroom to dump it in the trash. When I get back, she's already half dressed. I want to rip her pajamas off and drag her back into bed so I can kiss her until we're both too tired to do anything but sleep, but she's already gone. Being with me like this will freak her out for days, and if she's true to form, she won't talk to me for a while. Or look at me.

She'll shut down.

I fucking hate she does that because she's acting like me, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

I pull on my pants and grab my t-shirt. She finishes getting dressed and crawls into bed. Without a word, she turns her back to me.

Okay. I guess we're done.

I stand there for a few seconds, contemplating what she'd do if I crawled into bed with her, but from the tension in her shoulders, I can tell it wouldn't work out well.

Instead, I turn out the light and close the door.

"Fuck."

I yank open the linen closet and grab a spare blanket, then stalk out to the couch and flop down.

This whole situation is fucked.

I want her, but I'm scared to want too much.

I love her, but I'm afraid she won't love me back.

I need her, but needing her scares the crap out of me. What's more, I think I scare her, too. Before I took her virginity and then dumped her, she was fearless. Now, not so much.

I close my eyes and try to turn off my brain. It doesn't work. I keep seeing images of her. Of us. Of how we used to be and how we are now. How we could be if things were different.

Those images linger for hours.

The next morning she doesn't look at me when I make her breakfast. She laughs and talks to Alice, but it's almost like I'm not in the room.

Later, I take Alice to the theater and drop Bella home. She doesn't kiss me good-bye. Doesn't even hug me. Barely looks at me as she mumbles 'thanks' and leaves.

Fuck this shit.

I'm not okay with this. I thought I was, but I'm not.

I want her to look at me the way she used to. Not just with lust, but with that indefinable thing that used to make me feel more weird than normal.

Hell, these days, I'd just be happy for her to look at me, period. See me.

When I get home, I dig out the napkin from the night before.

Books, huh? I suppose they could help.

God knows, at this point, I have nothing to lose.

Only three weeks until BAD ROMEO is released, lovelies, and if you'd like a sneak peek, the first two chapters are available on Wattpad (link of my profile. Oh, and there are also outtakes there, too. Check them out if you have time. No account necessary to read them.)

I got my advanced copy of the book today, and there are some little snippets of various fanfic reviews in there. One of them could be yours!

I'm so incredibly grateful for all of the amazing messages of support I receive from you guys on a daily basis, and I don't think you'll ever fully understand how much you all mean to me.

I love you all beyond measure.

K x