So here we have a small little transition chapter that's going to bring us into the next stage of Bad Fauxmance - where shit starts to hit the fan. I said at the beginning of the story that this fic will not be a long one - I'm not anticipating it to be anymore than 15 chapters.

This chapter will hopefully leave you feeling very very "WTF?" Yeah, I'm evil. But it's my birthday, so I can do what I want.

I posted the outtake of Bella's POV as a story. You can find it on my profile under "Bad Fauxmance outtakes" - I tried to send it to everyone, but you guys just completely blew me out of the water, so I had to give up or risk carpal tunnel.

Thanks for the quick beta, Ali.

Disclaimer: This shit is too crazy for a woman who likes her Bella in long khaki skirts.

In which shit just got real

I'm expecting something cataclysmic to happen. I'm expecting my ceiling to fall down on us, expecting Bella to throw up again, expecting God to descend from the Heavens and smack the shit out of me.

But none of that happens.

All that happens is Bella and I, staring at each other, both of our breathing too loud for how casual this is supposed to be. It's just a bet, a dare – it's not a declaration of love or lust or intent, so why is she looking at me like that? Her eyes dart from my lips and back to my eyes, like she's waiting for me to either lunge at her or be completely repulsed.

I'm not going to do either. This has to be her. This has to be on her. I can't kiss her first, or I'll never, ever stop.

"I haven't been kissed in six months," she whispers to me finally, her breath bitter with the alcohol.

"I haven't wanted to kiss in over six months," I tell her, which is true to most degrees – there hasn't been anyone I've kissed in the past six months that I've really wanted to. It's been out of obligation, or a means to an end. But this girl, I want her taste on my lips so badly, that I think I'm going insane.

"What about now?" she asks me, and even though I can feel everyone watching me, waiting for my reply, I stop caring.

"Except now," I tell her, and she kisses me.

And for that moment, everything between us just goes quiet. I'm not gay, she's not afraid of men, our manipulative friends aren't catcalling – we're just a man and a woman, enjoying a kiss. She makes a tiny sound in her throat and it vibrates against my mouth, and I'm driven to fist my hands in her hair and pull her closer to me.

She ends up straddling my lap, and I know she has to feel how hard I am, but she just keeps on kissing me back, opening her pretty mouth under mine like a flower. Then she starts squirming over me, and I grab at her hips, and I guess she thinks I'm telling her to stop, because she does.

She pulls back, and we notice that everyone has left the room. When did that happen? Where are they? If Emmett is fucking someone in my bed, I'll be pissed… tomorrow. I'll be pissed tomorrow, because right now, tonight, I can't be anything but deliriously, stupidly happy.

"I guess we know how to clear a room," says Bella, laughing. She stands up slowly, wobbling a bit in her inebriation. She holds out a hand for me and helps pull me up, and then we're kissing again, her back pressed against the wall.

I hitch her leg around my hip and all but rub myself against her like some dog in heat. I don't know if she likes it or is simply tolerating it, because she makes no noise while I feel like I'm the heavy breather jacking off in the corner.

Then she puts her hands on my chest, and even though she has no strength to push me away, I back up. "What's wrong?"

She looks up at me in alarm, and I've seen that look too many times on too many drunk faces to misinterpret. I grab her arm and steer her towards the bathroom, and she makes it halfway before throwing up the first time. She starts apologizing but I tell her to stop, and then carry her the rest of the way to the toilet.

I sit up with this crazy drunk girl who apologizes after every choking sob of vomit for half an hour, before she finally passes out against the cold tile of the bathroom floor. I leave her there for a moment, and thank whatever god is out there that I'm too drunk to care about cleaning up vomit on my floor.

Then I pick Bella up off the tile, and she groans and buries her head against my chest. I make it to her room, but think that just for tonight, I should be happy. So I carry her the rest of the way down the hall to mine, and then lay her against my sheets. She immediately curls up against the pillow and fumbles blindly for covers, which I hand to her. She sighs and buries herself into my comforter, and I watch her sleep for a minute before changing into something more comfortable.

I climb in next to her and shift her little body so I have room. She's such a bed hog, but I don't care, because her cheek is suddenly against my chest and her breath is warm and fanning down my body. She makes a little snuffling noise that makes my heart burst and then wraps her fingers around my arm, anchoring her to me.

I kiss her forehead, scrunching up my eyes against thoughts of tomorrow's inevitable shit storm.

When I wake up the next afternoon, I can already feel the cold spot next to me without opening my eyes. I open them anyway, and I feel like I've been punched over the head with a 747.

"Fuck," I groan, rolling over and getting to my feet. I hear the distinct sound of a pissed off woman in the kitchen, and even though my hangover is pleading with me to stop, I go toward it.

"…like it is any of your business what I choose to do – "

" – I'm concerned when you wake up in bed with a strange man – "

" – it's just Edward – "

" – oh yes, the captain of morality and virtue that he is – "

" – I don't think you have any room to talk about waking up in strange men's beds – "

It's Emmett, and I hear him say something under his breath, and then the door slams shut. I walk into the kitchen and Bella is leaning against the counter, letting the pancakes she was cooking burn.

Something about the way she's crumpled speaks to the baser side of me, the side that is ingrained in men to protect women they care for. I stalk past her, ignoring the way she calls for me to stop, and then I wrench open the door of my apartment.

Emmett is halfway to his car.

"Hold it, you piece of shit," I call, already starting down the steps.

Bella is on my heels, but there is something inside of me, filling me up like a lead balloon. It's taking me over, making every cell of blood beat against my skin and brain – rage. It's pure, unadulterated rage.

"Go back inside, Bella," Emmett says when we reach him.

"Don't speak to her," I hiss. "What the fuck is your problem?"

His eyebrows raise, and then common sense hits me. He could unravel all of this with one sentence.

"I don't think it's appropriate for you two to be sleeping in the same bed together," he says finally, crossing his arms over his wide chest.

I hear Bella scoff behind me, and I agree quickly. "What the fuck? Why not? It's not anything could happen."

"Oh, yeah? Just like nothing happened last night when you two mauled each other in front of God and country?"

"You dared us to kiss, you mother fucker!"

"Kiss, Cullen. KISS. Not grind and groan like two eels trapped under a blanket."

"What the fuck does that even mean?"

"Bella?" Emmett turns to her instead of answering me. "Go inside."

"No." It's the first time she's spoken since we came out here. "I'm not going to watch my best friends beat the shit out of each other. Edward, come back inside with me. Emmett, go home."

"He's your best friend?" Emmett asks her, and when she nods, he explodes. "You know what your problem is, Bella? You're so fucking naïve. You let the people who can hurt you the most get close to you. That's ridiculous. That's so dumb. Why are we even friends? Can you answer me that? Why did you want to be my friend? Why do you want to be this jackass's friend?"

She's at a loss for words. I'm not completely sure what he's on about, but she seems to know exactly what he's saying. She's trying to blink back tears, and suddenly, everything in me snaps. All the shit I've been holding back for the past couple months – the sexual frustration, the hiding of my identity, the close calls and the lonely nights, and the woman I've fallen in love with who is wrapped up in all these things – I see her crying, and the only thing I want is for Emmett to hurt as bad as he's hurt me, and hurt her.

I shove him harder than I ever thought I could. He stumbles against his car, and then he's on me, and my face is under his fist, and then my body is against the asphalt and every bone in my body is broken. Bella is screaming and I'm ducking blows as he unloads on me, and then finally her tiny hands get caught underneath his rage and she whimpers in pain.

That unlocks me, and then Emmett is under me, and all I feel is the way skin and bone and tissue gives way under sharp pops of the fist.

Then there's a stranger's voice, telling us he's going to call the police if we don't break it up, now. I hop up off of Emmett and Bella tugs me to her side, her soft hands raining over my face and trying to stem the bleeding of my nose.

"So that's how it's going to be, Bella?" he asks, looking at both of us in disgust.

She looks away from him and buries her face against my chest. I wrap my arm around her, and I hear his scoff of disgust.

"Fuck you both, then," he says. "Don't coming crying to me when all of this blows up in your faces."

"We won't, asshole," I mutter.

When we're back inside and Bella has an ice pack pressed against my nose, she sighs deeply and sits down next to me.

I barely hear her. I think back to all of the times that Emmett has goaded me – he's been playfully mean, but there's always been some sort of underlying animosity between us. Maybe he finally understands that when the charade is over, he's fucked, too. He's been lying to her as much as I have. Maybe he never expected it to get this far, and he's growing tired of covering for me. Or maybe he sees something that I'm not ready to see yet – that Bella is growing dependent on me for things that I'm not supposed to be able to give her.

"I think… I have some explaining to do."

That pulls me back to the present, and I look over at her. "About why Emmett just completely lost his shit?"

She looks into my face. "Edward, I've been married."

I almost fall off the barstool. "What? You're twenty-three… and you're already divorced?" I realize how judgmental that sounds and I try to take it back, but she waves it away.

"Yeah. High school sweetheart sort of thing – so very cliché. Well, the marriage floundered pretty quickly, and I couldn't ever really figure out why. We had been friends forever and we fell in love – or so I thought – really naturally. Turns out, Jacob was kind of… using me."

"Using you," I repeat.

"I was a cover. Only, I didn't know it."

"A cover? What – Bella, you're not making sense."

"I found Jacob in bed with another man," she blurts out. Then she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, like she can't even look at me with what she's about to say. "And that man… was Emmett."