Chapter 12 Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush

A/N: All characters belong to SM!

I don't know how to say this without it sounding like the tacky plug that it really isn't – I promise - but it's time for the Twilight awards, and I am having a ball nominating my much deserving favorites in all of the different categories. Now, I am new at this whole thing, but there are plenty of writers out there who are seasoned and have provided us with much amusement and inspiration. Please, go nominate and then vote for those stories you so vehemently read and review and let their author's know how much you love and appreciate their hard work. Seriously, it's a blast!

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EPOV

I have absolutely no fucking idea what I'm doing.

I'd spent all of Tuesday night repeating Bella's impossible request to myself, hoping that by familiarizing those words with my consciousness that perhaps a bolt of lighting would flash and I'd be inspired. Struck with the most convincing, alluring, and absolutely foolproof way of conveying my true intentions towards her.

And they were honorable, well, as close as Edward Cullen's intentions could be concerning anything remotely honest.

And she'd known my limitations, fucking instinctively. Edward Cullen could only be trusted so much, because at the end of the day, no matter how much I may care for her I would still be plagued with the realities of myself. I couldn't escape my identity, just as I couldn't white wash my past.

She'd left the stage before I'd even responded, and I knew that the least I could manage would be to start off on the same page. Bella had to know that I'd take her words more seriously than she'd think possible. I just didn't know if I could get through a conversation without pulling her close to me and burying all these troubles in her heavy, shiny hair washing them all away as my face burrowed deeper and deeper into her sent and silky strands.

So a letter it was.

But it hurt to over think my words so I just wrote what should have been said before she'd fled.

Leaving it on her stoop, I ran back to my suite, flinging my bedroom door closed behind me. As I'd rocketing across the space to the bag with the paper and the drawer housing my favorite pencil, the old Edward was abandoned and I allowed my mind to spin out and the melodies that brought her to my side that night to enrapture me.

By the time Wednesday morning dawned I was wrist deep in my composition, endlessly going over the notes I'd struck and the harmonies that had been conjured. Wholes and halves and sixteenths waved their flags at me while I scored them to staff after staff.

The fervency of my pencil to scroll, finger to key momentum was powered by the small hand that had brushed the hair from my eyes, and palmed my strained jaw. The endless propel was driven onward by the gentle fingers - from the only warm hand that would ever exist to me - that trembled as they tickled my neck. Her eyes had been on my lips, and her breath ragged, the moment we connected skin to skin. And the privacy of the moment, souls barred, inadequacies apparent, only heightened all awareness.

And I'd had to touch her because she was creamy and soft and smelt like unrealized need. I had no idea there would ever be someone like Bella, and I didn't think she'd ever felt a tenth of the passion, in the entirety of her life, that she was feeling in that moment. I sure a hell hadn't. And it wasn't because she was creamy and soft and fragrant, but because she mattered.

And I'd never thought someone could hold so much importance. Not to me.

Fuck you, Edward Cullen, and all your weak shit. Fuck you for hiding and bastardizing yourself.

Looking at the clock I realized if I didn't motor I would be late, which was out of the question with the match on Saturday. Though, I'd admit, that Saturday seemed far as fuck from now and every motive in my body was pulling me back toward my incomplete personal rendering, my music.

But she'll be out there. Somewhere.

I was in the shower, soaped up, rinsed, brushed, dressed, frowning as my frowzy hair and out the door in minutes. The natural light stung my eyes and the incessant chatter of the congested crowds caused me to turn inward, keeping my annoyance at bay by soundlessly humming my ode.

But I didn't see her for more than one short class all day. During my one assured time, for at least a glimpse of her calming face, Bella arrived late, kept to herself and left early. I held out a small hope that she'd come to practice. Why the fuck do people hope anyway? You're just setting yourself up to feel like shit.

And Wednesday night blurred into what had engulfed Tuesday's nocturnal hours and before I could refill my coffee cup for the twenty-seventh time it was Thursday.

I had no idea how to show Bella anything when she wouldn't look at me. Yesterday she'd seemed so unsure. And sad. Five feet of scroll had to be omitted when my emotions went on and on distressing over whether it had been something in the short note I'd left that caused her pointed distance. Maybe she didn't get the letter. Maybe she'd changed her mind. Maybe the reality of me finally set in. Maybe I should shut the hell up and get to class.

The cool morning greeted me before I was nearly ready. Shivering, I stopped to pull my jacket tighter.

I found her then and directed all my body language, absentmindedly, in her direction. She was only walking; bag heavy on her shoulder, hair swinging all around her. Bella would have caught my self-important eye even if she hadn't been glowing like the most fucking brilliant sun in existence. It was like I had a homing beacon attached to her and any time she came within a twenty-foot radius it shocked my heart and dick mercilessly. If Bella only knew how much control she truly had over me…

She was so near, and I'd promised to show her. So, when her eyes found mine watching her, as she was about to pass right by, I reached out and brushed my hand against hers, "Good morning, Bella." I brought my whispering mouth close to her cheek. "I missed you yesterday. I'll see you in French." I would have suggested free period, but I'd not found her anywhere yesterday or the day before, and thought it might be better to play the non-expectant, non-threatening card. Her eyes only widened, a genuine smile playing around the corners of her pouty, wanting lips, and she continued walking.

I'd desperately wanted to grab her from the center of the crowded courtyard, pull her down into my lap at the nearest bench and kiss her properly. Her lips were fucking begging for it. But even that small public gesture would ruin her.

Being with me would defile her. And if I didn't care it wouldn't be a problem – I'm an expert in the art of corruption – but I didn't want her to have anything in common with the others, the proverbial graveyard of hookups past.

I chided myself for trying to take the easy way out. Shut the fuck up dude, none of this is easy. But fucking her would be exceptionally effortless – but, shit, I wanted to put some exertion behind it, how about more like drive all my effort straight into her, over and over - but proving I was more than that, however, wasn't so ABC.

My feet dragged as I made my way to Calc, then shuffled to Physics and English. I obviously hadn't slept in days, but my exhaustion was of another nature. I could hardly push through my laps, as I made up for the multiple missed morning work out during free period.

I just felt heavy all over and was beginning to think it was the impossible, elephant-esk question weighing me down.

How do I prove to be something I'm not but could be, possibly, someday?

It felt like huge boulders were strapped to my feet, keeping me from filling my lungs with air, like all of my issues had sunk me to the very bottom of an Olympic sized pool. If only I could stay afloat, even just break the surface. My answers had to be waiting for me up there, up above on dry land, where normal people found feelings and love and happiness.

Feelings? Okay, those are definitely present. Love? Yeah right, you're Edward Cullen. And happiness was a certainty; happiness had found its way to me. Bella. So, I guess this was what if felt like to come up for air after all. Maybe I was just waterlogged.

However, the idea of proving myself to Bella was ferociously laughable. The only thing I was capable of assuring anyone was that I was a complete and utter jackass, the king of all dicks. Is it wrong that, even in a haggard time such as this, I say that with a double meaning?

Case in point. I was not a friend to women. I was the fiend.

I'd been proficient at playing the role of Casanova; not considered a break neck task when the only requirement of me was unfailing charm and contractual perks clearly stating endless sex with ripe, wanting girls. Although, I didn't know dedicating my spunk to that form of devil would leave me incapable now. But I'd never imagined my life taking this turn.

I couldn't even covet that now impossible lifestyle as I always thought I would if it happened to end. There were no spare amounts of yearning left within me to waste anything on less than her. And since she seemed to be my own personal sun, it didn't seem it could ever get better than Bella Swan.

Somehow, despite her brilliant shine, I could look directly at her and did throughout most of our French session. I couldn't help it. I just re-angled my chair, so it wouldn't be so awkward, since I sat father up in my row than she did, and hoped to catch her eye.

I felt pathetic at my obsessing. That reaction didn't last long though, because slowly she began returning my gaze, just briefly at first but eventually I had her eyes and the indiscernible message we were passing back and forth had me reeling despite its unapparent meaning. We were just looking.

Of course this development had to occur seconds before the bell, but just pre ring she mouthed "Tonight" in my direction. I could feel my face pulling and scrunching and warming. I think I'm turning into a woman.

Tonight.

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BPOV – Thursday Night

I laid down in the faintly lit concert hall, the cold platform floor permeating my white blouse. My writing assignment was untouched because I was waiting. I'd thought Edward would be here before I even arrived, but the piano stool was empty and there had been no music wafting around me as Carmen had prattled on about dirty realism.

It had been a tiring couple of days. I'd stewed over Edward's note, and the fact that he may or may not believe I was a cousin-fucking whore.

I was overwhelmed with the possibilities that laid therein.

On the one hand, Edward might not have believed the rumor at all. This was my favorite hand. On the other, he may have found out it wasn't true, confirming his suspicions of foul propaganda. A fine option. And on yet another hand, he may have believed the lie from the start, wasn't ever corrected by Emmett and was now hoping to have a turn. Shit.

My heart spent all of Wednesday breaking as my rational told me Edward Cullen would indeed fall into the trap of believing and scheming. He was not someone afraid of getting sullied, and on the platter hand number three held out I was served up nice and filthy.

When I'd said "You're not ready for me" I wasn't jesting over sexual superiority, he won on all counts there, I'd meant he wasn't prepared to have me without ruining it. Without screwing up the possibility of more.

I'd felt so foolish as I realized how incorrectly my vague challenge could have been construed. So I didn't wander around where I might bump into him and I refrained from any eye contact when I couldn't help being within his proximity.

I'd left before the bell - Teachers be damned! I am a mess here, okay? – and walked around the corner to steady my shortened breaths. He wouldn't pass this way with the myriad of other Fremont fuck ups and floozies – Did I say mess? I meant maniacal. – but I'd be able to see him exit from this vantage point.

And then there he was.

And he looked horrible. Purple circles under his bloodshot eyes, pallor skin, shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world rested there indefinitely.

He couldn't be such a good actor as to fabricate such misery. I didn't see how this could be a game he'd voluntarily play.

And that was what I told myself today, as I sat in my French seat, yet again yearning to watch his eyes watch me, but not wanting to over commit myself, or weaken my resolve, by meeting his gaze. If only I could be two places at once.

I was struggling not to look. I had felt his eyes on me. But I hadn't known what to believe. The hands were juggling the many options up and down and all around inside my mind, creating impossible indecision, where at any sign of weakening I'd be diving for his arms, his lips, his …

And that was the other difficulty I'd incurred; my dreams had begun to seep into reality.

Waking up sweaty, panting, needing was so normal now it had become somewhat boring – yeah right – but this morning I'd awoken myself by the sheer force of my orgasm.

Yes, or-gas-mmmmmmmmm.

From a dream.

And I couldn't even fucking remember the dream!

But the tool responsible for guaranteeing such unbridled satisfaction … that was burned onto my brain. It was now all I could see when I closed my eternally, heavy lids. Edward's dick. God, I must have a visiting host possessing my mind and body … this isn't me.

What could send a heart-reeling girl from uncertainty to forceful, self-induced - yet cognitively unaware – climax in less than a day?

Surprisingly enough, Alice. Or not so surprising, perhaps. She did seem to specialize in the impossible.

Though Alice and Rosalie were currently shopping, as I ran my mind back over these details -still cold, still waiting for Edward – for the umpteenth time, last night we had been party planning.

Well, Rosalie had been busy checking off the Master list, I'd volunteered to stuff the teammate gift bags and Alice was worrying a mile a minute.

"Emmett says he's reclusive, says he stays in his room when he's not in class. This isn't Edward." She'd just kept saying the same thing, in differently worded versions, all night.

So, this morning in the courtyard, when his weary eyes lit up as our hands touched and as his breath bathed me I realized he wasn't putting on a show. He was miserable, unless – it seemed – when he was near, or looking at me. I didn't understand the math of it. But I realized, as long as we kept getting to know each other between the two of us, it might not be such a downward spiral if he truly ended up being only a manipulative jackass.

So my lips said "Tonight" when they were dying to say "Hall broom closet."

That was this afternoon.

It was now eight-fifty-five and the concert hall contained only me.

I'd officially been stood up.

So much for the hope in you, E.C..

And I felt like shit.

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EPOV – Thursday Night

no, No, NO! FUCK!

"Alice, why the hell did you let me fall asleep? You know I have independent study tonight?" I'd gone from zero to fucking panic mode – which is a hell of a lot faster than zero to sixty – and was reeling with my Rolex in one hand and iPhone in the other.

It cannot be eight-fifty.

"Edward, I'd say you've put in plenty of practice and composing time. Probably enough for the entire term."

"No, Alice, you don't understand. I have to go."

And I was out of the bedroom, and then the suite and finally threw myself down Pike Tower's entry steps. Run faster bitch. This is over if you don't get there NOW!

Bella had been waiting for me, wondering where I was. Undoubtedly, going over all the reasons not to trust me in her head, and this was proving her right. I'd never thought she'd been wrong not to open up to me when I'd said Sesame - or, more specifically "I am" - but it was all semantics now because I had essentially fucked myself before even getting started. That shit wasn't good enough. I am going to catch her and show her …. Fuck … show her something good about me. Prove at least I'm not a complete careless motherfucker. Because when it came to her, I couldn't care more.

And it was like my day, or some other equally awe inspiring shit, because just as I rounded the corner Bella was barreling though the Creative Arts Tower doors.

She saw me then and flipped her long hair behind her as she readjusted her course and came stomping towards me, stopping only inches from my face.

She opened her mouth and closed it. Letting out a huff, she just started shaking her head back and forth, pressing her lips into a taunt line; her eyes darting to everything but my own pleading gaze.

She's pissed. Quite possibly she was beyond that level of anger, but I couldn't take it entirely serious because she was such a small, spirited little thing, and in combination with her livid face and jutting out chest, her reaction only registered with me as sexy as hell.

I didn't think telling her my observations would make me look any less like the asshole I really was, through and through, but being late was an accident and Bella needed to know.

"I fell asleep after practice this afternoon and literally woke up five minutes ago." She had to understand. I needed another chance.

"You do look like shit." Yes, Bella I do look like shit, like a shit who hasn't slept in two nights.

"I ran all the way here." How the hell I managed to find energy to run, three hour nap or not, was a mystery to me.

"It's not that. You've looked tired as hell for two days. What the fuck are you doing?"

God, uhngg, Bella slash Pissed slash Fuck. She was one fucking hot girl. Bella, please, just let me fuck you.

And that's when I stopped listening to my dick, because if I kept on being a dumb shit I'd never even get to touch her motherfucking collarbone. Or hear about why she transferred to Fremont or why she's taking the creative writing workshop or … well, that's new.

Whatever, I couldn't waste time being surprised by all the shit I was interested in now that I cared.

"Fucking shit up, obviously." I abandoned pulling my hair out, and attempting to pinch away the headache that had sprung my just behind the bridge of my nose, and wound my fingers at the base of her neck as my forehead found hers. "Bella, I'm sorry I was late." Her hip was in my hand and I hadn't even thought to put it there. And as I shifted her closer, she let her palms rest on my chest and her eyes took in my remorse.

"Why haven't you been sleeping?" Concern flickered, and caused her lids to narrow around the deep brown of her eyes.

"I've just been working on something." I still couldn't believe she'd noticed my warn state, I'd only seen her refusing to look not observantly watching.

"I see." She dropped our mutual stare. Was she sad again?

"It's impossible to sleep when you have as much on your mind as I do."

"What's on your mind, Edward?" Her gaze was one with mine again.

"You." Truth. Her eyes lit up and dimmed almost within the same second.

"That can't be all." Also, true.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself, trying to find the best was to put this.

"I'm just trying to figure out how to do this. I know what kind of guy I am, Bella, and you deserve better than him."

And then she was kissing me. Warm mouth on warm mouth, my other hand joining in to cup her neck as its partner in crime cradled her head, fingers winding deeply into her hair. She had a lock on my waist, pulling her arms around and meandering them up my back, running her hands softly over all of the different levels. I groaned into her mouth as the weight of needing just to hold her was suddenly lifted and the ach to lay her back and explore her came crashing down upon me.

I pulled her bottom lip, and sucked to which I was awarded my first moan, deep and soft and breathy. She licked the crease of my closed lips the moment I'd released her bottom one from my attentions, her tongue so soft, so gentle. And then my tongue found its way inside, head tilting to experience her more. But the taste of her was my epitaph, having died somewhere along the journey of this kiss and been inscribed to her alone.

"God, Bella." I'd needed air and the words were an involuntary utterance.

"I'm not with Jasper. I never have been." And that she'd chosen this moment to make this declaration made me see that she thought there was a chance I didn't know the truth, that I was still believing the lie.

"I never wanted to believe it," I promised as my lips found her succulent neck skin, the first dig of an excavation that would take years of examination to unearth all her treasures. A lifetime even. "I couldn't stay away even if it was true."

I was getting pretty good at the whole honesty thing, and my reward was her lips on mine once more, only she was in charge now, licking the crease again to get me to open up and then waging a battle with my tongue that was fierce, slow and determined. She snuggled even closer somehow, and I tried to avoid pressing my eager archaeologist against the hip I was clutching. But he was more than ready for his turn and I hadn't gone so long without actual sex in years, so I knew we needed to stop.

I slowed us down, bringing my attention to her cheek and eyelids and finally her forehead.

We needed to actually talk if things were ever going to change. I had to know where I stood with her, not based on assumptions but actual words.

"You don't trust me."

"No." It hurt so much to actually hear her confirmation.

"I will show you that you can." My voice cracked a little under the sheer volume of these words.

"I hope you do."

And there it was again, that vile concept of hope that was sounding more and more heaven sent by the second.

Bella took a step back from our embrace.

"I don't want to be like all the rest."

So, I did something I'd never done for anyone but Alice; I walked her back to her suite. But I never loosened my grip on her waist as I pressed my nose into her hair and guided us, which was not how Alice and I rolled. This was my own virginal moment, and I was giving it all to Bella.

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BPOV – Friday Night

"God, if he only heard you call him that he'd think I put you up to it. I'd tell you more, but I can't. Let's just say, he really enjoys that name … just not in public."

"Maybe we'll hear Angela screaming it from Bella's bedroom later tonight."

"Lucky Edward."

Lucky Edward. Edward and Angela? Quick, they'll spot you and realize you were listening in if you don't say something.

"Okay, I'm clean and dry." My head was spinning and felt thick with fog.

"Shit. That is probably the caterer and the wait staff. They're early. Rose, you curl B's hair, I'll go get them set up."

And then it was just Rosalie, demon-cousin, and me. Yeah, okay, we'd been getting along all right what with all of Alice's insistent meetings and planning. Rose actually seemed to be calmer with Alice around, more at ease with herself. I knew Rosalie's domineering and personal Bella-related issues all stemmed from her insecurities. She wasn't so much a brutal bitch as absolutely alone. Alice was exactly what she needed.

I, however, needed to get away before she proved me wrong and burnt the shit out of my face.

"You've waited for years for an opportunity to burn the hell out of me. I won't make it that easy, Hale." It was time to go.

"Oh, silly cousin, I've already burned the hell out of you, and it was easy. Now I'm bored with that, so get your snarky ass over here and let me do what I do."

She was right; I'd been set me up before even setting foot on the manicured lawns of Fremont. Maybe she is just a brutal bitch.

No one puts themselves in the hands of the enemy unless they have a protector. Or are maybe suicidal. But I wanted to keep my face scab free, thank you, and knew just the person who would ensure my safety.

"I don't trust you, but seeing as Alice will pussy punch you if do anything to sully this shin dig I think I can take my chances."

And with a smile, Rosalie went to work. "She is a force, isn't she?"

I let my mind find Edward again, where he'd been waiting patiently on the outskirts until I could give him my full attention.

I'd told him I couldn't trust him, right at the tail end of two spine tingling kisses. Not my best move, but he'd rendered me irresponsible by telling me he wanted to be more, saying I deserved more. What girl isn't a sucker for the bad boy turning over a new leaf? Dammit. I am exactly the fucking sucker apparently.

"So, how do you think Edward Cullen came to love the nick name Eddie? I find that insider info tantalizing. Anything that gives me the upper hand is dreadfully intoxicating. I would think you feel the same way, Bella. It's a woman's prerogative to feast on power."

This filled in some of the blanks for me, seeing as I'd missed the meat of their earlier conversation. Eddie. Hmmm.

She wanted to know if I'd been eavesdropping. Whatever, unintentional overhearing is my prerogative as well as power. If only I had some power to come by. This Angela news felt more like a blow to my gut then a feast of power.

"Is that what Angela will be screaming from my room? Eddie? How fantastic for me, and my love for debauched furniture and bed sheets."

Why do Edward and I have to go round and round like this? There always seems to be something between us, sometimes good like our feelings, and sometimes bad like Angela or the fucking rumor. Nothing major had laid down any roots to keep up apart yet, or convinced me he wouldn't change, but was it only a matter of time? Would someone figure us out and come between us; would we ruin this ourselves?

"Rose are you almost – oh my god Bella, you look amazing." I glanced in the mirror for the first time. I looked the same to me, just curlier and smoky eyed.

"Thanks. I guess I'll go get dressed." I was at the door in a second and was feeling charitable, but "Thanks Rose" was all I could choke out, as I headed to my room.

I'd never been one to paint the town red, so my fancy clothing options were scarce. I'd had class when Alice and Rosalie went shopping, so I couldn't tag along; and knowing my vastly limited wardrobe and truly wanting to look like something worthy of the Edward Cullen's advances, it hadn't sounded like the worst idea ever.

I hadn't minded forfeiting the outing whatsoever until I realized he wasn't coming, and I'd missed shopping so I could sit on a cold stage feeling like crap.

"None of these will work." Alice approach from behind had been silent. As I whipped around to face her I was stunned by the vision in front of me.

Both Alice and Rose enamored the senses on contact. Primed, polished and wearing designer outfits, they both had a shimmer to their skin and ensembles that would be driving the guests green with envy and mad with lust all night long.

"Hold on." I didn't even really see Ali leave and then she was back again.

"Wear this. Don't argue." Alice thrust a garment bag at me and my hands pushed out instinctively.

"But Alice-" I knew I could make due with what I had. And I'd sink through the floor the moment everyone sees Alice and Rose. You won't even register on Edward's radar if any of the other girls come dressed with as much zeal as your friends.

"I even got it on sale." Alice said holding out a stunning black dress. I slipped it on because I had to. I'd shrugged off the will to refuse.

Wait, did I just say friends? Well, one friend and one heinous relative was more like it. Rosalie did curl your hair – that had been nice - and is now offering to pin it up… what?

"… so we can show off your back." My ears only heard the last part of her sentence as the first few words had been sucked into a black void of what-the-hell.

But she did. Rose grabbed some bobby pins and hairspray and went to work, creating an over the shoulder retro look that actually made all the difference and left me feeling truly beautiful.

I managed a smile as I mentally checked myself and prepared for her next conniving stunt, because Rosalie may have her moments but it would take more than girly bonding to spay her inner demon from deep within.

I tidied up my room, since it would be used recreationally later, I sneered, and pepped myself up for fun.

I wanted to believe Edward with every ounce of my heart. God, even my colon and lungs and spleen couldn't help getting wrapped up in all of the emotions he elicited. But my damn brain, it had to keep me in check.

My fingers found my lips as I remembered with such clarity how Edward's kiss had felt and tasted - the perfect pressure and fervor and warmth. His hands had been on me, and refused to stop holding, as he walked me to my suite.

And in my imagination the image contorted and instead of his arms around me they were Angela's, embedded between, constricting our steps and halting our progress, signifying everything that continued blocking our pathway home.

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A/N: When I made it to the last point of view of this chapter and realized, yet again, the party wouldn't be included, I felt badly. But then I guessed, that if anything could make up for having to wait for the party, it would be the extensive Bella and Edward in this update. I promise, the next chapter will be the party! I am thanking my lucky stars I didn't promise before this because both Chapters 11 and 12 started out with the title of the party chapter and both had to be changed. I have been just as surprised as you! Thank you so much for hanging in there with me! ~RAE

P.S. I'd love to know, from those of you who checked out the party outfits on my profile, which dress you liked most!