A/N:

Thanks again to What The Fun!

"There's only one person in the world who decides what I'm going to do, and that's me."

"You decided what you were going to do, Charles, some time ago."

- Kane & Emily

July 29, 2010

Edward

Marcus slides onto the bar stool next to me, looking very casual despite the reason he's here.

I lift my head, uncrossing the arms that acted as my pillow while I waited.

"Twelve days," I announce unceremoniously, skipping the greeting as I meet his hazel gaze.

"It's been twelve days with no leads. She left, and she's not coming back. She was probably just in a hurry. You said it yourself."

Marcus opens his mouth slightly before closing it. Something close to regret crosses his face, but he quickly pushes it back.

"You don't mean that, Edward. You're drunk," he argues wearily.

"I'm not drunk."

"Edward -"

"I mean it. I didn't drink anything."

His pity-rich expression turns dubious.

"He really didn't," the kid bartender intercedes, sounding less than impressed. He probably can't wait for me to stop taking up his seating.

Marcus' gaze flits between the boy and me, finally settling on my unnamed expression.

"That's why I called. I don't want to drink." I just want to stop feeling.

Marcus just stares as if my defeated words don't make any sense.

Maybe they don't, but I can't leave on my own.

I go back to studying wood grains as Marcus sighs, the sound voicing his own sudden desire for liquor.

He's probably wondering the same things I am, like, Why did I ask him to pick me up when I'm perfectly sober?

Or, Why was he the only one I felt I could call?

All good questions, but they will have to wait for my next therapist.

Since Marcus is still speechless, I take the opportunity to explain my recent epiphany.

"If someone wanted money, they would have told us by now. She probably grabbed all the loose cash she could find, and just...drove. I would have done the same thing."

My detective friend purposefully ignores my reasoning, placing his hand on my arm.

"Come on, I'll take you home."

"I don't want to go home. She's everywhere."

"I'll take you to my house, then." He's back to regarding me in a way usually reserved for skittish animals.

I nod, almost wishing that I had taken that drink after all. If I could just forget, for only a few hours...

Marcus interrupts my temptation by pulling on my arm, tugging until I stand. His movement is more of an annoyance than a physical help, but to anyone except the bartender, it would just seem as if I had too many drinks.

In actuality, I could argue that I haven't had enough.

But I shouldn't let myself regress, if only for her...wherever she is. I owe her that much.

Wherever she is.

Marcus steers us away from the pretty bottles, and despite my lingering doubts, I'm thankful for his presence.

I keep my eyes downcast as I follow him, distractedly hoping that I don't know anyone here. But most of my mind is busy replaying rapid, flickering moments starring Isabella.

We're halfway between the counter and the door when my heart constricts, having saved the worst realization for last.

"I should have left her alone."

The words are lifeless yet remorseful and very, very true.

Marcus offers no response to my self-inflicted guilt, only pushing me toward the exit so I walk faster.

May 7, 2010

Bella

Edward tugs on my too-tight jeans, struggling since they are still sticking to my legs. His hair is backlit by nearby lights, recreating the wonderful image from the beach.

I reach my hands out, grabbing two fistfuls of copper locks as he double-checks the zipper.

"Penny hair," I giggle.

It is truly the most hilarious thing I've ever said.

Edward smiles down at me, reinforcing that what I just said was very funny. He looks like an angel...an angel sent to save me from my drunkenness.

He easily removes my hold on his hair, showing a lot more coordination than I have at the moment. My mood twists and turns with the fleeting thought, suddenly blanketing me with devastation.

"Why didn't you drink with me? Don't you like me?" I challenge, damn close to hiccup-sobs.

Edward continues his efforts, inadvertently bringing me closer to the edge of the bed. I blink rapidly, momentarily lost in the feeling of wet denim being pulled down my legs.

"I think you should know by now that I more than like you, Mrs. Cullen. And I did have a drink, though you really drank enough for the both of us."

"Well, why didn't you come in the pool with me?" I've stumped him this time, I'm sure.

"Because that wasn't a swimming pool. That was a fountain."

"Semanantics," I grumble. By the smile on his face, I don't think I got it right.

"It was kind of shallow, don't you think?"

"I did wonder about that."

More tugs. Coarse fabric. Air.

I open the eyes I don't remember closing, focusing on where Edward should be. He throws my jeans to the floor with a victorious plop, finally proving successful in his fight against the pants.

"There," he sighs, glaring at the heap of fabric. It looks like he wants to stomp on it.

I stare unabashedly as he quickly removes his own clothes, only keeping his underwear. But my hopes of getting lucky are dashed when he settles in next to me instead of on top of me.

I immediately roll onto my side to face him, proudly offering my hushed confession.

"You know, I've never been drunk before."

"You don't say."

"Mmhmm."

It's too quiet as Edward's gentle fingers brush my forehead, pushing hair away from my face. Even in my inebriated state, I can feel his amusement turn into something else.

My eyes squint, trying to judge his expression.

I'm pretty sure that's a frown.

"I should take better care of you," he murmurs somberly.

Yes, definitely a frown.

A buzz-killing, responsible-like...

"It's not your fault," I insist. "It's the French and all their...wine."

He doesn't look convinced.

"Really. They're like Pringles. You can't have just one."

Edward lets out a harsh breath, seeming to relax with the sound.

"Let's just take it easy next time, okay?" he says softly.

I close my eyes, snuggling into my pillow.

"Okay, Frowny Face. 'Night."

"Goodnight."

I hear a slight rustling as Edward pulls the covers over us both, and I can't help but smile when I feel his lips against my hair.

"It was a good day though, wasn't it?" I ask as I fend off a yawn.

"One of the best," he assures. His vague answer sparks my curiosity.

"Which one was the best?"

"Maybe I'll tell you when you're sober."

"Okay," I chime cheerfully. That seems reasonable.

He says nothing else, so I let my mind wander as I succumb to exhaustion. My hand idly plays with the pillowcase while I take to imagining seashores and smiles, thoroughly hoping for lucid dreams tonight.

When Edward's voice breaks the silence, I think I may already be asleep.

"And Isabella?"

I hum distractedly, barely registering his next words.

"I really, really like you."

May 2, 2010

Edward

Isabella stands before me shyly, her body still and pure and sunkissed. I watch her play with the hem of her summer dress, twisting the fabric into a delicate bundle.

Anticipation speeds up our too-fast breaths, accentuating the only sounds in the room. I sit down on the edge of the bed, silently beckoning her closer.

I want nothing more than to let the cotton and ruffles fall to the floor. So I can love her.

She approaches slowly, stopping right in front of my knees. And as much as I enjoy following Isabella, I have to admit that I love when she follows me, too.

I take her hands, bringing her into the small space I've made between my legs. My eyes observe her floral ruffles contemplatively, with perhaps just a hint of contempt. It's a beautiful dress - and a present from her friend - but right now I just need to get her out of it.

Since I shamelessly watched her put it on this morning, I know the zipper is hidden on the side of the dress, under her arm. Isabella lets me poke around until I'm successful, probably sensing that I want to do this myself.

I gradually expose more skin as I slide the dress down her body, placing a light kiss above her belly button once I am able to. I place another one near her ribs, another above her hip...

As I continue to brush my lips against her bare stomach, I soon notice when she starts tensing her abdomen. The movement borders on severe, making me worry that positive anticipation might not be the cause.

Unable to see any clues on her face aside from expected nervousness, I decide to move farther up her body. Tonight will be filled with multiple questions and assurances, but right now - when there are so many options with no pain involved - I want to explore her likes and dislikes by trying them out.

I bring my hands to her waist, gently running one finger along the bottom of her bra. Its white fabric is thin and slight, suggesting that its only purpose involves being unwrapped. The innocent color would have made me feel guilty on any other night, but now it just matches the memory of her wedding dress perfectly.

I take a closer look, having only seen it at a distance earlier.

The first layer has dozens of little holes, revealing solid fabric underneath. She jumps slightly when I run my thumb over the material.

"Are you okay?"

I make my voice an almost-whisper, perhaps afraid that if I speak any louder, I might be sent to another time and place.

She nods but self-consciously tugs on the bottom my shirt, keeping it in her grasp.

I help her take it off, scolding myself for treating her like an appetizer when I was fully dressed.

I remove my pants before settling back down on the edge of the bed, this time bringing Isabella with me. Her legs straddle me as my arms reach around her waist, settling her on my lap.

"Better?"

She hums, cutting off the sound when she leans in to kiss me. It's sweet and not-so-short, acting as a comfort to us both.

She pulls away right before I reach around her body, easily handling the clasp that is flush against her back. I take my time as I slide the straps down her arms.

Not rushing, just giving me time to commit this to memory.

I toss the bra onto the floor with a little more power than needed, happy that there is more bare skin for me to touch and tease and adore.

She takes in a quick breath when my fingertips trail between her breasts, lazily making their way to her only remaining piece of clothing. Her light blue panties don't really match, but that's just so...Isabella. I'd take this ensemble over black lace any day.

My hands toy with the top of her underwear, uncovering the small smudge of brown near her hip bone.

Soon, when the air is not so heavy with expectations, I will spend a day finding every single freckle or mark on her body.

Isabella distracts me from my promise when she shifts slightly on my lap, reminding me that I have yet to proceed. But my fingers have turned hesitant, seeming content to just hold the fabric.

This feels the same as other times I've undressed her, but different. Because now this is with a clear purpose, an ending in sight.

I wonder if she can feel my hands trembling against her hips.

Isabella touches my face gently, looking at me with a kind expression.

"Are you okay?" she asks, eyes sparkling.

I let out a short laugh, feeling better when she smiles. That's a yes.

"I'm great."

"Me, too," she says, still grinning. The amount of relief I get from these two little words is outrageous.

I cup her face with my palm, relaxing more when I see that her eyes are full of trust. Isabella immediately covers my hand with her own, and I hope she knows I'm only nervous because I care.

While I'll always want Isabella desperately, the selfish need to take has been dominated by the current need to make this perfect for her.

The feeling is so foreign, but then again, this isn't just any girl.

I'm not sure of the exact moment it happened. But with ease, she has completely turned my world upside down, wiggled her way into all thoughts of the future, made me feel all these things I was sure I couldn't...

Love...

My lips turn up on their own, displaying just a small fraction of my happiness.

I've read about this.