Chapter Five

"No."

This was becoming my personal philosophy.

"Please, Bella," Edward pleaded, following me as I tried in vain to get away from him. "Just let me explain. Please."

"No," I said automatically, pushing past a group of guys standing in the middle of the walkway. It was a long trip back to the apartment on foot, one I'd made in the snow and the rain many times to get to and from classes. It had never seemed endless, though, until this moment.

"I understand that you're confused," he said, keeping up with me without an ounce of trouble. "And probably upset. That's fair. I've been terrible and inconsiderate." He got stares from almost every female we passed. Like almost everyday in Seattle, the sky was entirely made up of dark clouds. There was no sunny patch I could escape to.

"No."

"Bella," he said, placing a hand on my shoulder and stopping my forward movement. "Please, just give me a minute to explain. After that, if you're still sure, I'll…well, then I'll have to accept that, I suppose."

"No," I said.

He smiled. "Really? You can't spare a minute?"

"No."

"The stubbornness," he noted, "You've kept that as well."

"Let go of me," I demanded.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked, concerned, and released my shoulder.

I shook my head. "Go. Away." I turned on my heel and started moving towards the apartment again.

He caught up with me in an instant. "Well, see, I'm trying very hard not to repeat my previous mistakes. So, with apologies, I cannot—go away."

Tears stung my eyes, surprising me, and I blinked them away quickly. It wasn't fast enough; he gave me a sympathetic smile. "I don't understand? Since when is—what happened—a mistake? I thought—"

"I know what you thought. I told you to think it," he said. "But Bella," he shook his head, angry, "You have to know how—untrue—everything I said that day was. It was…I thought it would be best for you if I wasn't a part of your life, and that's probably still true. It probably would be better for you, but I'm not going to decide what's best for you anymore. That's not my place."

"It never was," I agreed.

"Well, yes, everyone else seems to have known that for a while," he said.

"What did you mean: untrue?" I asked cautiously. He was inviting in thoughts that I had banished to the furthest corners of my mind; fantasies of him, here again, with me again, us in love again. Bad thoughts.

"The greatest lie I ever told was that I didn't want you—that you weren't good for me," he laughed as if it were at all funny, "You are, unequivocally, the best thing for me."

"Stop it," I whispered.

"Please, Bella, don't be upset," he crooned. "There's so much more to tell you. Is there somewhere else we could go? This is a little," he glanced around, noting all the other people, "Exposed."

"My roommates are out," I said, choking on the desperation coating my voice. The thought of bringing him into the same apartment Jacob had been in a few days ago made my stomach flip; and yet, part of me could not resist the idea of him, standing like a marble god in my tiny, cluttered bedroom. I could see him leafing through the art history textbook, currently open on my desk. The image felt comforting, correct.

He smiled. "Where do you live?"

"We have a Murphy apartment near the edge of campus," I said, feeling strange talking about Seattle University to Edward Cullen. There were two different worlds—two different Bellas—two different lives.

Edward seemed excited as he indicated that I lead the way. "We?"

"Uh, yeah," I said. "Me and my roommates, Kelsey and Rachael."

"Do you get along with them?"

This was too strange. "Yeah. They're my—I mean, we picked to live together."

He nodded. "You met them last year, then?"

"Yeah, Rachael was in a class with me, and Kelsey," I stopped and thought. "Well, Kelsey threw up on me."

He smiled. "Charming."

"Yeah." I laughed. "At a party. So Rachael and I took her to the bathroom, and she kept apologizing and crying. And she took us out to breakfast the next day to thank us, and…" I shrugged.

"And the rest is history," he finished.

"Yeah, pretty much," I said.

"What class?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"What class was Rachael in with you?" he clarified. It felt vaguely like the first few days we'd known each other, when he would spend the day grilling me for information, and whenever I reciprocated, I got veiled, unspecific answers.

"Definitions of Normality," I told him. "It's a sociology course. That's her major."

Edward narrowed his eyes at me. "And yours is…English?"

I sighed and crossed my arms. "Open book."

He laughed. "Not at all," he assured me. "You're endlessly surprising."

"Sure, sure," I nodded along, my breath catching at Jacob's words coming through me, so without thought, so much a part of me that I barely even noticed.

Edward shrugged. "Honestly. I was surprised to find you at a school this cold and wet and far from Renee. I assumed you would go closer to Jacksonville."

"I wanted to stay close to Charlie," I said. And Jacob. My long-term boyfriend. Who's a werewolf.

"Seattle's still a long way from Forks," he remarked.

"Yeah, well, I didn't want to be too close," I said. "Three hours isn't bad. I can get home quickly if I need to, but it's far enough to discourage surprise visits from Charlie."

"Do you drive here in the truck?" he asked, his judgment and concern evident in his tone.

I smiled at the familiar argument. "You're such a bully to that poor truck."

"There's no way that ancient relic can make it here and back," he insisted.

I shook my head. "Mean."

"Does it?" he insisted.

I sighed. "Unfortunately, the truck saw it's last days a month or so after graduation."

"Ah," he said, smug.

"We had a funeral for it," I told him.

"I'm sure," he chuckled, "It lived a long life." Silence fell between us, and it struck me that I was speaking to Edward Cullen, being friendly with Edward Cullen, joking, laughing, having fun with Edward Cullen. We were almost at the apartment. My mind was swimming with millions of scenarios. What was I doing? What was he doing? What was the plan here? "Who's we?" he asked, pulling me out of my train of thought.

I shook my head. "What?"

"You said, 'We' again," he told me, "I was just wondering who else was at the funeral."

"Oh," I said, "It was just, uh, me…"

"…And?" he asked, confused about my resistance.

"And Jacob."

He paused, trying to remember a Jacob. With a jolt, he remembered. "Jacob Black?"

Please, don't know. Please, don't know.

"Yeah, Jacob Black."

"You're friends?" he asked.

"Uh," I panicked, "What about you? My life's been pretty standard. I'm sure you've got more exciting stories. How's the family?" I rambled. "How's Carlisle? And Alice?" These names I never thought I would utter again.

"Everyone's doing well," he said, suspiciously. "Are you all right, Bella?"

"Well, here we are," I announced as we finally approached the building. "Let's head upstairs."

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