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not beta'd

storyline - Malicious

prompt - adjust

Now that I see it in its full glory, I realize I've seen hints of it before: adoration.

Your face brightens with a smile so wide it practically splits your face. It's amazing how cute you are to me when you're not scowling or sulking. More than cute. You're hot.

So you yank me closer, letting go of my hand so you can put your arm around me like you want to claim this before I change my mind, and my heart skips and flutters so much that I wonder how hard I was working to keep it calm before.

"When?" You ask. I feel your voice reverberate in your chest. "When did it change?"

"I don't know. Recently, I guess." I look up at you, squinting in the frail fall sun. "It snuck up on me."

You grin and squeeze me so close it's hard to walk. I wrap my arm around your waist and half embrace you back. Being able to touch you is a relief I didn't know I wanted until now.

"Might've had something to do with the fact that your personality started matching your looks," I add.

"You think I'm cute."

It's a statement, not a question, and I laugh lowly. "I like how that's the one thing you got out of what I just said."

"Naw, I get it. I'm not a total moron."

"Anymore."

You tug gently at my hair. "Anymore. You gonna keep on busting my balls?"

"Probably."

"Because I can think of a lot better things to do with them – "

"Oh, ew Edward." Laughing, I shove you away, but you won't let go of me and you draw me right back, your face abruptly void of all silliness. You gently push me up against a tree outside Emmett's, resting your hands on the bark behind me.

"You don't even know all the ways I've thought about you, though," you say. It's sexy, and your voice trembles a little, so it's also sweet.

"Been perving out at the pool?" I breathe, unable to control my reaction to your closeness and your words. "Is that why you wear goggles all the time?" You turn red and I crack up. "Jeez, I was joking! But you totally do!"

"Yeah, I totally do," you say, drawing your bottom lip in to your mouth in a way that makes me want to kiss it. "At the pool and everywhere else…but it's the worst at the pool. You know what it's like having to adjust myself in a situation like that?"

I cover my mouth, holding back a laugh.

You shake your head, grinning. The only times I've seen you this happy have been after winning meets. I like that I make you feel this way. For so long I thought you despised me. It's messing with my head, but in a good way.

"Does that bother you?"

"No," I say.

"I kept it subtle."

"Subtle stalking…"

"You drove me nuts." Your eyes twinkle darkly.

"Sorry," I say, but I'm not. You know it, too.

Suddenly your eyes flicker behind me. "Figures," you mutter.

I twist around the tree and follow your gaze. The curtain in Emmett's living room curtain flutters suspiciously. "What, were they spying?"

"Of course."

"We should start screaming at each other," I joke.

"Or making out…"

"Don't push it," I say, fiddling with the zipper on your jacket.

"Don't you want to kiss me?"

"I've already kissed you," I tease.

You back off, winking at me. "Next time it'll be better."

I can't lie; it's taking me a minute to adjust to this thing with you. It's nice, though, secretly wanting to see you at school instead of dreading it.

It's like the magnets have been switched around, and instead of repelling each other in the halls at school we attract. Outwardly, it's nothing major: a little hand holding and goofy smiles only the newly involved share. I think it takes people a couple of times before they notice, but when they do it's crazy. All at once the rumors are back, only this time they aren't cruel. This time, they're true.

At practice on Tuesday Coach Clapp nearly has a heart attack when you throw me over your shoulder and jump in to the deep end. I beat you up under water, emerging victorious – and just in time to see Coach gaping in concerned bemusement. I see him questioning Emmett, probably thinking our rivalry has deteriorated in to physical violence.

Mike Newton can't frigging stand it. He's Smirky McSmirkyson every time I see him, until mid-week when he makes a comment in the cafeteria.

"Shut your mouth," you warn, not even looking his way.

He frowns and goes back to pushing his food around his plate.

Well, well. It's about time. You have a lot of catching up to do and I'm more than happy to let you.

Later, you corner me at my locker. People rush by on their way out, and I notice some of them noticing us. "Can we go out Friday?"

I shrug, grabbing a text book. "I don't know, can we?"

"Bella." You pull me so we're facing each other. "I want to take you out."

"Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You stare at my lips long enough to let me know what you're thinking, and then you run your thumb along them in case I wasn't sure.

Tiny Tyrant rules today with an iron fist. I think he's already teething: cranky, drooling like crazy and gumming everything in reach.

so. thanks for reading and talking to me, lovelies!