I am so totally blown away by the response to the prologue alone.

This is an important thing, so even if you don't read A/N's, give this a chance. In the original summary, Edward loses a bet and has to go to a gay club. When I wrote it out, it sucked. I changed it up a bit. Hopefully that's okay with you guys.

Thanks to everyone for the overwhelming amount of reviews, alerts, etc. You guys are crazy. I love you. Thanks to Ali, as always, for doing nothing but replying to my "beta this section" emails with "lmao" and making me "lmao" in return. Thanks to Kassiah, my preview reader. Yes, THE Kassiah. How lucky am I?

As always, you can find me on twitter - pinkeveningsky!

Disclaimer: Y'all know the drill. Not mine. Stephenie would pitchfork me out of Twiland for making her Edward pretend to be gay. Hey, at least he still sparkles, right?

In which I lose my dignity

I light up a cigarette and take in the night air with my first drag. Why does a cigarette taste so good after a blowjob? It's not like I did anything except grab her hair and gently remind her that teeth are for eating only, but I'm winded, exhausted, like I just ran a mile. There's just something about all that focus on you, the hot, wet mouth and the sucking and the –

Then I hear a loud yell, and I nearly suck in the whole cigarette I'm so scared. There's nothing like a good gotcha to really get your heart going, and it's going so fast I have to lean against the banister of my apartment's balcony. Then I walk back in slowly, carefully, ready to beat someone's ass.

As fate would have it, the yell comes from someone who is ready to beat my ass.

The girl who I fucked, the girl who just blew me, Heidi, is cringing as my roommate, Garrett stands over her and yells at the top of his lungs. I can't even understand what he's saying, but my blood starts to boil – no one yells at a woman like that, especially a woman who knows what to do with a cock like she does.

"Hey, what the fuck, man?" I ask, stubbing out my cigarette in one of the dozen ash trays laying around. "Don't fuckin' talk to her like that…"

Garrett whips around, and it's like I've just been faced with a charging bull. Garrett is a huge guy, massive, with bulging muscles and an intimidating Northeast accent. I cower back instinctively.

"You're naked, too?" he nearly screams, and I mean screams.

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when two people bump uglies." I'm really annoyed at his attitude by this point.

His eyes bulge. "You bumped uglies with my sister?!"

Oh, Jesus Christ, this cannot be good. I stare at Heidi, betrayed. She's blushing, her blonde hair falling over her face in little ringlets that seemed so cute an hour ago. Now, she might as well be Shirley Temple for all that I'm attracted to her.

"Garrett's your brother?!" I yell, pointing vaguely in both of their directions. "That would have been nice to fucking know!"

"Don't talk like that to my sister, bro," says Garrett, the giant douche bag who was just screaming at her two seconds ago. "Apologize for fucking her."

Really? Really? I'm not going to fucking apologize, Garrett. You can seriously put your head between your knees and suck your own cock before I apologize for your sister's tight –

"Apologize right fucking now!"

"Christ, I'm sorry!" I nearly bleat, like a trodden on lamb. "I didn't know, man. I wouldn't have – I mean, she's hot, but I wouldn't – " I retract at the look on his face – "Okay, okay! I'm sorry. My fucking bad, dude."

"Your fucking bad," he repeats, like it's the understatement of the century. "I'm going to beat the ever loving shit out of you, Cullen."

Well, that's just not right. I apologized, Garrett. Maybe your sister should apologize for feeling so good wrapped around me, what about that? We would have never gotten into this situation. In fact, maybe your parents should apologize for having such fucking good genes, and creating that fine piece of p –

"The ever. Loving. Shit." He repeats this, like he has to affirm it to himself. "I almost hate to have to do this. You're my boy, but that's my fucking sister."

"Let's just wait a second," I say, trying to act calm. In reality, I'm panicking, because Garrett could destroy me if he wanted to, and how emasculating is that? I can't panic and be destroyed in front of a girl I just worked the moves for. "Maybe we could… I don't know – work something out…"

This stops Garrett in his giant (moose) tracks. "Work something out?"

I stop cringing. "Yeah… like… I'll take out the garbage for a week, or something…" Maybe I sound like a pussy, bartering not to get hit. But god damn it, I do not want to get hit.

"Huh," he says, mulling it over. Garrett is big and loud and fun, but quick he is not. Then he guffaws, like something is just so hilarious. "Actually, I got a better idea, Cullen."

I do not like the sound of that. "All right…"

Garrett shrugs. "Kate's been trying to get me to go to the Golden Nugget for months now…"

"The Golden Nugget?" Oh god, this can't be good. The Golden Nugget is a huge gay club down town.

"Yeah, bunch of queers, man. But she wants to go, she thinks the gays are soooooo cute. She's really busting my balls. But maybe it wouldn't be so bad if you came with…"

This doesn't sound so bad. A night in a gay bar as opposed to getting my face pounded in? I'll take it.

"But to make it a bit sweeter for me, because after all, you just nailed my baby fucking sister…" Yeah, rub it in, Cro-Magnon… "you have to pretend you're gay. For that whole night."

I think I feel my balls retracting into my body. "Hell the fuck no."

Garrett turns frightening again. "What was that?"

I stand here and weigh my options. Jesus Christ, do I let him cause me a world of hurt and possibly a lot of fucking dollars in facial reconstruction surgery, or do I humiliate myself in front of a bunch of gays?

Well, I reason, it's not like you're going somewhere where tons of people are going to know you. You don't really know anyone gay, so it's not like someone will recognize you. It could be interesting… and cute girls fucking flock the gay clubs…

"I said okay," I mutter, disgusted at myself.

I hear a girly giggle, and I realize that Heidi is in the room still. I went through all that trouble not to emasculate myself in front of her, but Garrett tricked me into looking like a jackass, anyway. Garrett nods, satisfied, and then grunts something about going to pick up Katie.

Heidi and I are left alone again. I wonder if Garrett realizes what a dumb fuck he really is, because there is now no way I'm not hitting that again.

"So…" I start, and it's all that I need before she's on her knees again.

*

Saturday night rolls around, and Garrett and Kate-Kate are standing behind me in line, waiting to get wristband-ed and let in. I have never seen so much color in my life, so much glitter. I hear nothing but judgments falling from lisps, and I am so out of my element, I'm terrified.

I can hear them talking about me, the guy with the baseball cap on and the wrinkled shirt. Who do I think I am, showing up like this, but oh Jaysus, can they please have my ass spread over their morning toast? Oh god, I am never going to survive this night.

"Gays don't slouch," Kate informs me, smacking her gum in my face. I want to strangle her most of the time, and right now, it's doubled.

"I'm not gay," I say, my teeth clenched tighter than my asshole.

Garrett rolls his fists and reminds me that tonight, I am.

We eventually make our way inside, and oh god, what am I going to do? As I move through the club, eyes pass over me, lecherous. Is this how women feel when they walk through a club? No, fuck that, women ask for that attention with their pokey-outey tits and their sparkly eyes. I'm not asking for this attention, the "mmm" falling from multiple lips. I'm trying to find my way to the bar so I can drink and act like I'm not man meat.

I find my way to it, finally. A huge blonde is behind the counter, and she's whipping out drinks so fast I can barely think straight. She's gorgeous, and I want her number in my phone and her lips around my cock. I go to make a move, to say something smooth, when a giant leans up to the bar next to me.

"Well, you're pretty," he says, like I asked him.

"I know," I say, because I do. I see the stares I get, and if I'm not cocky, I'm at the very least confident.

"Don't get rude," he says quickly, changing his demeanor. His head snaps on his neck, and I have officially gotten my first gay diss. Within five minutes. Oh, god. I'm doing so good.

"Sorry," I say quickly, because this guy is seriously huge. Bigger than Garrett. His hair looks like it must have taken hours to achieve, and he has glitter on his eyelids. His shirt has holes strategically cut out, showing a flash of man nipples here and there, and he is wearing leather pants. Leather. Pants.

He raises his eyebrow at me, and then orders me a drink. A Tom Collins? Oh god, oh god. I am not a girl, nor a pussy. I do not drink Tom Collinses.

The blonde behind the bar hands them over, and I stare at her, plead her to see that I am straight. I am lost in a sea of gay, and she could be my life vest.

"What? Not sweet enough for you, princess?" she asks, nodding to my drink and raising an eyebrow. "Not enough fairy dust?"

The giant laughs. "Thanks for the drinks, Rosie."

She just nods and goes to the next patrons. I am so offended I hardly register what the giant is doing, tugging on my hand and playing with my fingers.

"Let's dance," he says, so close to my ear that I can almost feel his tongue. Oh god, no, that is his tongue.

I think I bleat out a no, but it must have sounded like a moan, because I am on the dance floor suddenly, and he is against my ass.

I do a mental checklist of my night so far. I am in a gay bar but I am very much straight, dancing with a giant man who thinks I'm pretty, holding a Tom Collins that a gorgeous bar wench made for me right before calling me a princess.

And I have been here a grand total of ten minutes. I wonder where Garrett is, if he and Katie-Watie are having an awesome time mingling. I hope he is cringing at all of the penises grinding on each other. It doesn't even matter, though. I am having a mental breakdown. I think I should have let Garrett just beat my face in.

"I'm Emmett," the guy says suddenly, tonguing my ear again.

"Edward," I say shortly. Can't he tell I'm not really dancing? Can't he feel how I cringe every time his leather pants come in to contact with my denim-clad ass?

"Let's go dance in the cages, Edward," he murmurs. "I need to show you off. Everyone is so jealous of me tonight."

Cages. CAGES? No. I draw the fucking line at cages. Where is Garrett? He won't know if I decline.

"Actually, I really have to take a piss," I say, and then escape quickly in that direction.

I finally find the men's bathroom, and it's locked. I groan and curse.

"You don't want to go in there anyway," says a female voice behind me. "Unless you like watching."

"Watching men pee?" I ask, turning around.

There's a woman there, leaning against a table, smoking. "No," she laughs. "You don't go in to the men's restroom here to pee. You go in to the men's restroom to have gratuitous sex and snort lines. You go to the women's restroom for peeing. Is this your first time here?"

I nod. "Yeah, I got dragged here by a friend."

"Are you straight?" she asks, her voice suddenly sharp. "You don't really have the mannerisms of a gay man."

"Uh, no, I'm… gay," I say, and a part of me dies. "I'm just… shy."

"Ah," she says, taking another drag. "Fresh out of the closet, huh?"

"You have no idea," I tell her. "So… the women's bathroom?"

She nods. "Yeah. I'll take you there. I have to take a leak myself. Just let me finish up my cigarette."

"Okay," I agree. We're thrown into silence, and I wish briefly that I could see her better. Everything is dark, and except for the random flash of strobe, I can't see two feet in front of me. Her voice is nice, kind of low.

She stubs out her cigarette, and then takes me by the hand. It's soft and feminine and I bet she smells good. "Let's go," she says, and then leads me through the crowd. "I'm Bella, by the way."

Bella. For some reason, I start singing, "Under my um-bella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh…"

And she laughs and looks back at me. "Okay, I'm convinced. Only a gay man would make my name in to a Rihanna song."

That shuts me up immediately. I want to get an erection, rip off my pants and beat her in the face with it. No, too violent. Just make her look at it, touch it, keep it hard for her, just to prove that I am one hundred percent without a doubt –

"So gay," I find myself saying. "I was dancing with this huge guy earlier… yum."

Yum. YUM?

"I saw," she laughs. "That's Emmett. He's the fag to my hag. You should have seen him when you walked in. His dick was a compass and you were magnetic North."

I make a noise that could be a laugh and could be a sob. We make it to the women's restroom, and I piss, and try not to listen to her in the next stall. Why am I freaking the fuck out about this?

I come out, and she's washing her hands. She grins at me in the mirror, and I really see her for the first time. She has dark hair, a cute face, a thin waist, a flat ass, but great tits. They are spilling out of her top.

"I never caught your name," she says, messing with her hair in the mirror and wiping under her eye.

"Edward," I tell her, moving forward to wash my hands. I get a whiff of her, but she just smells like smoke.

"Well, Edward," she says, smiling at me. Her teeth are pretty – white and straight. "Let me buy your pansy ass a drink, and we can talk Emmett."

Thirty minutes later, Bella and I are hammered. She keeps talking about what assholes guys are, and I keep agreeing, and calling her honey. She loves it, says I am the best, that I understand guys so well.

"And then," she slurs, taking a sip of her drink, "when I am done explaining why I love On the Road, guess what this jackass is doing?"

"Staring at your tits?" I ask, because that is exactly what I have been doing this whole time. Except she probably thinks I am admiring her long necklace. This might have some perks to it.

"Yes," she growls. "Can you believe it, Edward? It's not like we go around asking for that attention."

"Honey," I say, and I almost don't care how gay I sound, "you shove those bad boys out of your shirt, and a guy's going to look. Come on, now. That's like waving wine in front of an alcoholic."

"No," she says after a minute of looking thoughtful. "No, that's still not right. I can't help it. I don't do that. I just want to look pretty, and most pretty things have low cut tops. You know?"

No, I don't know. But I'm nodding, because she's so cute, so smart. She's nowhere near the hottest girl around, but she's interesting. I want to know more. I can tell that she's one of those girls who are pretty in the morning, without any makeup and bed head.

Then I feel a hand on my thigh, and it's not soft and feminine. It's big and domineering and inching up slowly.

"Whoa, big man," I say, oh my god, big man? "The mouth has to talk before the hands can."

Where. Did. That. Come. From?

But Bella is laughing, swatting at Emmett. "We were just talking about objectification, and then you start that? Bad Bear Gay."

I choke on my drink. "Bear Gay?"

Bella giggles. "Have you seen Inglorious Basterds? The Bear Jew? I don't know, I started calling him The Bear Gay one day, and it stuck." She's shrugging, grinning a bit.

I laugh. I laugh so hard I feel like I'm falling. Oops, I am falling. Oops, a big strong man helped me up. Oops, he touched my penis. Oops, I hate my life.

We start talking again, and Bella mentions how she is new to the area and is crashing on Emmett's couch for the time being. I wish I could kick Garrett out, so he and his precious Kate-Kate could mate-mate without me listening, but what can I do?

Besides, how could that work? Bella hates straight men. She has made this point abundantly clear to me throughout the night, and after tonight, it will be abundantly clear that I am straight. I plan on getting her number and then calling her tomorrow with a funny story, 'hey, guess what? I'm not actually gay…' and hoping she will find it hilarious.

"Straight men are nothing but lying jackasses," Bella says randomly, like she is reading my thoughts. Oh, I am so fucked. Oh, I like her.

"Oh, shut up," Emmett says, making a 'talk talk talk' motion with his hands. "God, I am so sick of you getting drunk and whining about men. Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Okay? Go lesbian. Go abstinent. Or go home. Done. I am done."

Bella just rolls her eyes. I am fascinated. Can gay men really get away with talking to a girl like that?

"Seriously," I say, toasting Emmett. "It sounds like you either need some really good cock, or to find a puss you really love."

She waves her middle finger at me, but I can tell it's with affection. Oh god, the power.

"Just the thought of that much vagina is grossing me out," says Emmett with a grimace. "New subject, please."

Bella turns to us. "Yeah, how about how cute you two are?"

"So cute," says Emmett, squeezing my butt. "So cute, I need to take this hottie away for a moment. Give us a second, Bell?"

"Sluts," she chides, but raises her glass to us as we walk away.

We find a dark corner, and I am panicking. No amount of alcohol will ever make this okay. I'm about to plead my case like the pussy I am, but Emmett does it for me.

"Okay, cut the father fucking shit. You aren't gay."

"No, I'm not," I say slowly, my whole body sagging. "Is it that obvious?"

Emmett taps his forehead. "Gaydar. Every queer comes with one. So, what are you doing? And why are you misleading my girl?"

"Please don't tell Bella," I plead. This girl is under my skin already. "She'll hate me. She hates straight men."

His eyebrows crinkle. "Why does it matter? You've known her for an hour."

"It just does," I say.

He shrugs. "Whatever, steer clear queer. Your party."

We head back, and the girl charms me. I never want to stop talking to her, and when the night ends and Garrett is dragging me out, I get her number. She makes me swear I'll call her, and when I swear, I really mean it. Tomorrow, even. Tomorrow, I'll tell her. Tomorrow, she'll tell me she knew. Tomorrow, we'll fuck until I can't even breathe, and then I'll do something sweet, like buy her ice cream and try not to stare at her tits while she talks.

The next day, I wake up with a hangover. I roll out of bed, and Garrett is throwing shit in random suitcases and boxes.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I ask.

The fucker is moving out, moving in with Kate Kate. They decided randomly last night, and he can't wait to get out this morning. He says he'll pay his half of the rent for the next month, and then he's gone, out the door. He says he'll be back for the rest of his stuff later.

Then my phone is out, and I'm texting the girl I've thought about all night.

I need a roommate. Care to leave the couch?

When she texts me back, I want to laugh and cry at the same time.

U are my new favorite gay.

I have to tell her. I open my phone to respond, to tell her that we need to talk, that last night was just a hoax, that I was playing a part. But instead, I say something that fucks me, that cements me as the biggest idiot ever in the history of the universe.

Good. Tell Emmett he is done for. I need a hag to my fag.

I hate myself.