I'm going to try to update once more this week, because on Thursday I'll be leaving for Key West for six days.

I'm going to pretend that it's still 2/28, aka Reader Appreciation Day. How can I say how much I love you all? Every review, every alert, every favorite - I can't explain what it means to me. Even if you've never shared your thoughts, even if you bookmark instead of favorite, and your username has never crossed my line of vision, THANK YOU for reading this and staying with me.

Thank you to Ali, who is my beta and PR person. She goes in to my twitter and helps me fix my typos when I'm indisposed.

Thanks for the awesome response to this story so far. You all complete me, Jerry Maguire style.

Disclaimer: Plot comes from my head. Characters come from S. Meyer.

In which I make bad analogies

Bella's stuff smells so good. I'm trailing behind her, acting like I'm helping her carry things, but I'm sure she notices that I only have her travel bag in my hand. In reality, I'm sniffing everything she owns. Are girls born smelling good? Guys smell like beer and sweat and Mexican food if we don't shower. But Bella is sweaty with exertion, and still she smells so sweet.

Emmett is somewhere in my – our – apartment, being the Bear Gay that he is, huffing and puffing and grabbing my package every time he can. Yes, he knows I'm not gay. Yes, he's doing this to make me uncomfortable. Yes, I smile and act like I'm hard.

Bella eventually got tired of that, called us disgusting and went to set up her room. Why is Emmett here, and why is he supporting me? I don't know, but I'm almost afraid to ask. I bet he gets off on these things, watching straight men squirm.

He grabs a banana off my counter and eats it leisurely, smirking at me with mouthfuls of potassium. He is not hitting on me. He is watching me, waiting for my reaction. He is trying to make me die, just fucking die.

"Okay, look," I say finally, slamming my hands down on the counter. "Do you want to hear the hilarious part of this?"

"That you're pretending to be a homo, when you're a no-mo? That you're deceiving my best girl just because you think she's awesome and she hates anything with a dick that doesn't prefer other dicks?"

"That's not the hilarious part."

"Wrong."

"Dude, okay. Garrett moved out because Kate-Kate said that was the only way he'd never have to go back to the Golden Nugget. Apparently, there are pictures. He got super drunk, and leather got involved. I don't know. But Kate-Kate has the pictures, and so officially she has his nuts. On the other hand, I have a relatively un-fucking-eventful night, and now I am also moving in with a girl who I am lying to about my sexuality."

"Garrett is gay?"

"Did I not say there was leather involved?"

"Oh. Right. Okay, steer clear queer, what's the point?"

"There is no point. I'm freaking out. Why are you helping me?" I am grasping at my hair. I can feel it turning grey under my fingers. STOP PAYING ATTENTION TO YOUR HAIR, CULLEN.

He shrugs. "I don't know. I guess I am just really amused by all of this. I mean, she's bound to find out eventually, right?"

"Won't she be pissed? I'd be pissed. Why am I doing this? I have to go tell her."

Emmett grabs my arm. "Whoa there, Romeo. Let's not be too hasty here. Something this juicy hasn't happened in my life in too long to let you ruin it."

Bella walks in then, her hair up and so pretty. She's grinning at both of us, and I find myself grinning back. It's been a week since I asked her to move in with me, and every day since then, we've done something little – grabbing coffee or talking on the phone, just to get to know each other better.

She's just as cool sober as she is drunk. I really, really like her.

"Am I going to be able to leave you two alone for more than five minutes without worrying about getting jizz on my countertop?"

Oh. But then, there's that.

"Am I going to be able to be alone with you for five minutes without wanting to jizz on my countertop?"

That just came out of my mouth. Oh my god. She is staring at me like I am morphing into RuPaul. What do I say? Fuck. Fuck.

"Are you sure you don't like women, weirdo?" she asks finally, tugging on her ponytail.

Then, I am struck with brilliance. I am BISEXUAL. Yes, oh golden gods of bisexuality. You allow me to play this part, yet still suck on her –

"I am bi – "

"By no means attracted to women!" Emmett says suddenly, cutting across me. "It's all about the cock for Edward, here. Big, juicy cock, all night long."

Bella wrinkles her nose at both of us. "Really, you two? I don't understand all this fascination with cock, anyway. It's usually attached to a big, sweaty asshole who comes too quickly. The only cock I need is the kind that vibrates."

Did she just say she has a vibrator? She is going to be vibrating herself in my apartment? Someone up there loves me. Or hates me. Or both.

"You brought the Bunny?" Emmett laughs. He can probably hear my erection growing.

Bella shrugs. "Anything to make myself feel more at home, right? And no, Edward, I'm not telling you where I keep it. I don't want to come back home one day and find it in your room next to a bottle of Astro-glide."

"You're a bottom, Cullen?" Emmett asks. "Well, well. Will wonders never cease? It just so happens that I am a top, and I am out of Astro-glide. Lead the way."

Bella rolls her eyes at us, and then goes back into her room.

"Why," I croak. "Why did you do that to me? I had the perfect out."

"Cut the shit, Cullen," he says suddenly, becoming very commander-like on me. "You chose to tell this girl you're gay. You suck at being gay, and she's going to figure it out eventually. What are you going to do when that happens?"

"Beg her to forgive me? Show her why I'm awesome at being straight, and that not all dicks are attached to guys who come too quickly?"

Emmett rolls his eyes. "Listen, Steer Clear, I like you, and I love Bella. I think she needs some jostling in her life. She's completely irrational in her hatred towards men. If she didn't talk about nothing but American authors and the clearance racks at Old Navy, guys wouldn't zone her out and stare at her breasts all night. I think we can teach her a little something."

"So, I'm going to act like I'm gay to teach her what men like? Is that why you're helping me?"

"I'm helping you help her. Bella is awesome. But she's so awkward when she first gets around a guy, so they high-tale it out of there." Emmett shrugs.

"She wasn't with me," I protest.

"She thinks you're gay, Steer," he reminds me.

So, I am going to act gay to help get Bella to be less awkward around men, when in reality she is already really awesome and I want her so bad.

"What do I have to do?" I ask.

He shrugs. "You're a horrible excuse for a straight man pretending to be gay. Let me gay you up. I can be your gay tutor. Your gaytor."

And because I'm already fucked, I agree.

*

Bella cooks us a housewarming meal. This apartment of mine has not seen a woman like this, one that cooks and laughs and makes me laugh in return.

I sit at the bar while she goes back and forth between pots and pans, stirring here, flipping there, tasting here. She has music playing, some light jazz that I actually enjoy, and I don't think I've smiled so much during one day in… a really long time.

"Don't get spoiled," she says, turning off the stove and placing the pot on a different burner. She wipes her forehead that is beaded with sweat, and she's so fucking pretty. "I can't cook like this every day, but you taking me in like this is worthy of a home cooked meal."

It's something Italian, with noodles and sauce and cheese, and it's delicious. I don't have any wine, and she laughs and says that she would love a lager, if I have any. I have Harp in the fridge, so we sit down at my – our – small table and drink beer and eat cheesy, tomatoey deliciousness.

"Really, Edward," she says after a moment. "I can't tell you how thankful I am for a place to stay. I just got a job last Friday, so I'll be able to start paying rent whenever you need me to."

I shrug. "Garrett – my old roommate – is paying for this month, so use your money to buy yourself some furniture, or groceries you need, or anything you want to make yourself more comfortable."

She nods and smiles, and she has a black fleck of pepper in her teeth. As a guy, I don't care. But would a gay man?

"You have a peppercorn the size of a rock in your teeth," I tell her, flourishing my fork in her direction.

She drops her fork and laughs. "I always get something in them – is it between my two front teeth?"

"Yes," I say, laughing at the way she's trying to dig it out with her blunt nails.

"I have a gap," she explains. "It's hardly noticeable, but I always get shit caught in there. It's embarrassing." She leans forward. "See?"

No, Bella, I can't see. You're so hot, so fine just as you are. You smell so good. How do you hide the cigarette smoke? I see you puffing out there. I see you stealing my menthols.

But I nod. "Did you ever think about braces?"

"I had them," she says, digging back into her pasta. "I just didn't wear my retainer like a good girl, so my teeth shifted a bit." She shrugs. "They're straight enough where it doesn't bother me."

I've already found out the basic stuff about her. She's twenty-three, like me. She's fresh out of college, taking a year off before going to grad school. She majored in humanities, and she has no clue what she wants to do with it. She got a job as a waitress at some high-end restaurant downtown. She's from a small town three hours away from where we are in Seattle, and always laughs when my Chicago accent comes out.

"The real question is," she says after a pause, "are we going to be Will and Grace or Karen and Jack?"

"Will and Grace," I say immediately. "He's the one that acts… you know… kind of straight. Where you're always guessing if they're going to end up together…"

I feel totally transparent saying this. Like, I might as well just tattoo my cock with "vagina rides only." But she nods, like I make a shit ton of sense.

"Yeah," she says. "That's good. If people think we're together, then that will ward off the gross men."

Emmett was right. What is wrong with this beautiful, weird girl?

"Men are not gross," I tell her. It sounds like I am championing my preferred flavor, when in reality, I am offended.

She just gives me a look, like she wants to tell me exactly why men are gross, but respects that I still have a penis.

"Women are gross," I try, and another part of me dies.

Her eyebrows rise. "Beg pardon?"

"Gross," I punctuate, stabbing at my pasta. "With all of your… vaginas… pink, and… it's like getting lost backstage and floundering with the curtains, suffocating…"

What am I saying? I love getting lost in vaginas. Vaginas are like a grown man's ball pit at Chuck-E-Cheese. You just have to dive right in. Maybe there's a snake down there, but you don't even care. You just have to get yourself covered immediately, buried deep, balls deep… oh god, this analogy is awful…

"Oh really?" she says. "Is that why you're gay? Because vaginas intimidate you?"

"No," I say defensively. How do I answer this? "Is that why you hate men? Because you love vaginas a little too much?"

She glares at me from across the table. She's actually kind of scary. As scary as a five foot four little thing can be. Aren't gay men supposed to be intimidating? I can do this.

"Don't get rude," I say, snapping my fingers. It's not a total flourish-y snap, but it works, I think.

"Ugh," she says, rolling her eyes. "You and Emmett have been spending too much time together."

I shrug. "Intimidated by cocks, check."

"I. Am. Not." She stands up from the table.

"Yes, you are," I taunt, standing up and gathering our plates. "Don't worry, Bella. The cockasaurus is a vegetarian. It'll love your bush."

She makes this noise that's like a groan and a scream. She's telling me she's exasperated, but I'm past that point. Now I'm just flirting with the girl.

"See? You love him already. What a noise. Rawr."

She flips me the bird from the sink, and I want to take her up on that. Oh, poor girl, you have no idea what I want to do to you and your smart mouth.

"That's okay," I sing into her ear. "I'll teach you, Bella. Penises are glorious things." She has no idea that inches behind her back, mine is hard.

"And how are you going to teach me that, hater of pink curtains?" she shoots back, throwing a dish towel at me to help the washing/drying process.

I shrug, unsure of how to answer. "I…" I wipe a plate, and then set it on the counter. "I just want to show you that all straight men aren't dogs."

And by doing that, I'm going to show you how to loosen up, and be yourself around everyone, Bella. Everyone is going to love you. Guys are going to flock to you, with your sweet smelling skin and cooking skills. And it's going to be all thanks to me, the straight guy that can never, ever have you.