Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended

(AN)-If any of you get double updates, I apologize. Apparently is glitching and a lot of people couldn't access this chapter, so I'm attempting to repost.

When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them

But if I look to my right, will I see the one I fight for

If I look to my right
Or if I turn to my left, will I see that I have kept my heart
Locked up, locked up so tight

~Ingrid Michealson, Locked Up

Chapter 16-Lock and Key

"You're not seriously going to make me sit through this are you?"

With a heart as cold as stone, I regarded Rosalie's pleading eyes with not the tiniest inkling of pity. "No, of course I won't make you sit through it. You can get up at any time." I turned up the volume on the television to further my point.

I had never met anyone who hated The Wizard of Oz. It was a childhood classic after all. Rosalie's burning disdain for the film had always served as an enigma to my poor brain, especially since she could never verbalize the reason for her hatred. The most I'd ever gotten out of her was that the flying monkeys were stupid and the Scarecrow was annoying.

Hardly a convincing debate in my opinion.

Normally I was extremely sensitive to the not so nice effect that Dorothy and Toto's adventures had on Rose. This time, however, she'd brought the torture upon herself. Why she thought she'd get away with forcing me to sit through a marathon of Say Yes to the Dress last night without retribution is beyond me.

So it was with absolutely no guilt at all that I returned my attention to the screen, enjoying the scene where Dorothy and the Scarecrow get apples hurled at them by an angry apple tree. Eventually Rosalie could take no more, and she slinked away to her room, muttering threats of retribution all the way. The smug satisfaction of victory left a huge smile on my face.

Just as Dorothy was about to nail the Wicked Witch with a bucket of water, my phone buzzed. I was elated to find myself looking at a message from Edward inviting me to his house tomorrow evening. Well…elated and then mildly terrified at the same time. Over the past month and a half Edward and I had seen a lot of each other…but this was the first time I'd been invited to his home for a date. Though I was probably over-reacting, being in Edward's home felt like it was an implication of an expectation….if you know what I mean.

Don't get me wrong, my confidence was as high as it had ever been. Edward had finally allowed me to get on the scale at the gym, and I'd found that I'd lost a total of 15 pounds since the beginning of my training. I looked in the mirror and began to see changes within myself, particularly in my face. Unfortunately my nerves were still uncontrollably unpredictable around Edward. We'd be in the middle of a makeout session that was so hot I wouldn't have been surprised if it gave me a tan, and suddenly something in the way he'd touch me or move against me would send me skittering away faster than a hooker who spotted the popo down the street.

Edward was so understanding…honestly, he was too understanding. With girls like Jessica pretty much walking around with a sign around their neck reading "My Vagina is Hungry for your Penis", how long could I expect him to wait around for me to be comfortable going past second base?

It wasn't like I didn't have the desire. By the time I reached the end of a date with Edward, my body was tingling and my heart was begging me to let him in.

Pun intended.

The problem was that however much my weight loss had progressed over the past weeks; I still didn't feel very comfortable in my skin. I just couldn't wrap my mind around the idea of Edward putting his hands on my skin and feeling the stretchmarks that left little cavernous trails all over my skin. How could he possibly stand to map out the scars of my obsession with food? How could I ever find the willpower to let him truly see all those parts of myself that made me feel ugly and ashamed?

More importantly…how the hell did I figure out what to do if I did find the willpower to let things get more intimate between us? Inexperience probably wasn't an attractive trait in a girl of my age these days. I didn't want to slobber all over the poor man like a lovesick puppy, or do something wrong and turn him off.

I needed some advice.

Which meant I needed Rose.

The Rose who I'd just tortured with Judy Garland for the past hour and a half.

Did I mention I'd sung along to 'Follow the Yellow Brick Road' in a horribly off-key falsetto?

Guess I'd picked the wrong day to exact my revenge.

~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~

Note to self for future reference…asking Rosalie Hale for advice about anything remotely sexual WILL lead to embarrassing situations that make you wish you could throw yourself into a black hole.

What I'd been aiming for when I went into Rosalie's room were a few tips on how to give a good blowjob, or handjob, or any other sort of 'job' that the average male was expecting to receive nowadays. Maybe some advice on what to expect from him and what he may be expecting from me.

Rose went a little above and beyond the call of duty.

And not in a good way.

She proceeded to inform me that I was sexually repressed and that I was never going to be able be comfortably intimate with Edward until I embraced the idea of myself as a sexual creature and took control of that sexuality.

'Oh Bella…I simply must know. How does one take control of their sexuality' you ask?

Apparently Rose thought the most beneficial course of action was to talk me into the car and bring me to a sex shop in Port Angeles.

For anyone else out there under the misapprehension that the 'throw them in the deep end of the pool and they'll learn to swim' is applicable to a scenario such as this, let me inform you that you are terribly mistaken. A girl who has only just figured out what to do with her nose while making out with her boyfriend is going to be rather overwhelmed and disturbed to suddenly find herself standing in front of a shop called Le Chateau Exotique.

I attempted a terrified sprint back in the direction of the car, but Rose made a swift move to intercept my getaway. "Bella…relax. Nothing in this store is going to bite you, I promise. If you don't want to buy anything you don't have to. Just come inside and take a look around. For all you know you may see something you like."

She gave a proud smile when I tentatively stepped forward. For the record though, I only went in because it felt like standing outside a sex shop all alone would be even more awkward than going inside.

Kink and bondage and anal beads…oh my.

Toto we aren't in Kansas anymore.

I saw things that I could never un-see.

Did you know that they make corsets for men? You do now. Ever heard of an anal hook? The "oh so helpful" sales associate told me all about the function of that device. When Rose pulled me away I thought we were leaving and I was saved, but swiftly realized she was taking me to another end of the store. The shelves were stocked with dildos and vibrators of every size and color, packaged in pretty colored boxes and stamped with pictures of half dressed woman presumably in the throes of ecstasy or something.

"Now I'm no expert," Rose was saying, "but I'm thinking a simple little bullet would be the best thing for you to start off with."

I blinked at her in confusion. "Rose…what the hell are you talking about?"

"Bella my dear, today you are getting your first vibrator. I mean…it's kind of an atrocity to womanhood that you've gone all these years without one. It'll be the first step towards you owning that sexy little hellcat that I know is inside of you."

I stared at her in horror…my mouth opening and closing wordlessly for a few seconds. "Th…they look so complicated. Do they come with directions?"

Rosalie had the grace to try and swallow the snicker that tried to fly from her mouth. She held up a box as an example. "Bullets are really simple. This one is attached to a little remote. You push this button here and it changes how fast the vibrator pulses. You turn it on…then move it around on your lady bits until it starts to feel good. This is about you getting comfortable with your own body and exploring what gets your motor running, so to speak."

I took the box from her hands, looking the packaging over for myself. "No Rose, it says right here. Apparently my motor will be run by three double A batteries. And they're not included."

My attempt at humor received an eye roll. "Seriously, Bella, it's only twenty bucks. I really think it'll do you a world of good to get it."

I eyed the box indecisively, weighing my options. Twenty bucks was a cheap price if this thing turned out to be as revolutionary for my psyche as Rose thought it would be. If it turned out not to be so awesome, well, I'd spent twenty bucks on worse things.

Flushed cheeks accompanied me and my freshly bagged purchase back to the car. Rosalie was practically strutting with joy. She kept eyeing me and pretending to wipe away tears while muttering "My sweet Bella is all grown up."

If that weren't embarrassing enough, she proceeded to drop me off at the house and inform me with a complete lack of subtlety that she had "errands" to run and wouldn't be back for a few hours. She even ended with a lascivious wink in my direction before driving off.

Sometimes friends make a cloudy day sunny again. Sometimes they make you want to move to a deserted island and become a hermit.

I threw the bag containing my new purchase onto my bed, and headed back into the kitchen to make some lunch. Rose couldn't possibly expect that "Go forth and prosper" attitude to work on me. I wasn't going to go to town and use the thing just because she'd told me to. Hell, I wasn't even that interested in it.

I didn't enjoy my tuna and salad with a moderate side of curiosity.

I definitely didn't feel a slight twinge of excitement while washing my dishes.

My steps as a crept down the hallway were not at all like the tiptoes of anticipation I'd display when creeping downstairs on Christmas morning as a child.

The way I bit my lip when I slid onto my bed, pulling the small, smooth device from its plastic and cardboard confines, was completely coincidental.

It really came with no directions. Was I supposed to put it "up in there" like it was a little plastic green tampon? Or just lay it against my lady bits and "wait for the magic to happen"?

I voted to attempt the latter. The batteries fit easily into the back of the palm sized control, and when I tentatively pressed the little silver button, the attachment that lay on the bed began a loud, rhythmic buzzing. I picked it up and the strong pulses tickled against my fingers.

I really didn't know how to progress. Was I supposed to woo myself by dimming the lights and putting on some Marvin Gaye music? Would it be better for my mood for me to be in my birthday suit, or should I just shove it down my pants and "Git-R-Done"? Again I picked what was behind door number two, opting to sprawl on my back and just fling the vibrator down towards my lady bits and hope that it would migrate south like a flock of geese.

At first I felt nothing beyond the general sensory processing of the tickling vibrations against my skin. Then I shifted, and there was jolt that raced up my spine in a disturbingly intense way. Part of it felt good, but at the same time it was too much, and I cringed as if someone were running their nails down a chalkboard and yanked the offending device out of my pants by the plastic cord.

"That's enough of that," I muttered, glaring at the still buzzing contraption before grabbing the remote with my other hand. I hit the silver button, which resulted in nothing more than a change in the speed of the buzzing. Another tap to silver made it even faster.

Shit…where is the off button? Is there an off button? Why the hell do these things not come with directions!

Impatient and frustrated, I turned the controller over and made a hasty dash to remove the batteries, which immediately silenced the blasted buzzing. With a sigh of defeat, I buried it in my sock drawer, adamant that I was never going to unearth it again.

This was hopeless. What could Edward possibly want with an inexperienced prude like me? I was not getting anywhere. Maybe this intimacy thing was like a band-aid. It would be better if I just psyched myself up for it and got it over with quickly. Maybe I was never going to feel comfortable with any of it until I just got it done.

I was suddenly convinced that I didn't want to wait till tomorrow night to see Edward. Hastily I sent him a text asking if I could come over. Five minutes passed with me nervously willing my phone to glow with a message, and I let out my breath with a whoosh when I opened the message to see a "Yes".

The drive to his place was an anxious blur. When I arrived, I barely noticed what the outside of his place looked like, focusing my eyes on barreling my way towards the light brown front door of his small rancher. My knock was confident and even. I could do this…I would do this.

Edward opened the door, looking heartbreakingly sexy in a green t-shirt, with his rusty hair tousled invitingly. He barely had time to open his mouth in greeting before I had pounced on him like a hungry lioness. I could feel the concern tensing his body, but as I wound my arms around his neck I felt it fade as his mouth moved against mine and his arms came around me possessively. I didn't want to think, didn't want to speak; didn't want to do anything that might break my fragile resolve. My hands were in his hair now and our ragged breathing tangled together in the air as he pushed me up against the wall and used his foot to shut the front door.

His mouth began moving down my neck, and I moaned as his lips created a rippling wave of electricity under my skin. I pulled at his hair, moving his head back up so that I could claim his lips with my own.

This was good, better than good. There was nothing to be afraid of. Emboldened by the adrenaline rushing through my veins, I kissed my way up to Edward's ear, my voice coming out with a breathy huskiness as I asked "Do you want to move this to the bedroom?"

I heard a sharp intake of breath, and Edward pulled away to look me in the eye. Panic started digging its way up my throat, because I couldn't read the look on his face.

It felt like there was a century of silence before he finally spoke. "Are you sure?"

My heart exploded with relief. "I'm sure," I whispered.

It was a lie and the truth all at once. I wanted to be sure, wanted to be confident, wanted to quell the feeling of dread that was beginning to grow in the pit of my stomach. I tried to ignore the nerves, and focused on the way his fingers felt as they intertwined with my own and he began to lead me towards the back corner of the house.

Edward's room was far too tidy. An empty kind of clean that told me he wasn't the kind of guy that really "lived" in his room; a harsh contrast to the controlled chaos that was my room back in Phoenix.

But this wasn't the time to reflect on the supreme cleanliness of my boyfriend's bedroom.

I made my way to Edward's bed and curled up into what I hoped was a mildly enticing position, and not something that made me look like I was having a seizure. My heart was hammering away at warp speed, and my mouth couldn't have formed words if I wanted to. The movement of the mattress as Edward sat down next to me, sent a flock of terrified birds flying around my stomach in a tizzy. Suddenly feeling shy and uncertain, I turned my head downwards and focused on the striped blues and grays that made up his bedcovers.

Gentle fingers hooked themselves underneath my chin, turning my face towards those soul-prying green eyes. "We don't have to do anything you aren't comfortable with." His voice was so beautifully sweet and sincere, and in that moment I wanted to be able to give him everything I was. A man like him deserved nothing less, deserved better than all my baggage and insecurity.

I didn't realize that I was crying, till he was leaning over and tenderly wiping at the watery drops preparing to dive down my cheeks. "Bella…it's okay."

Edward was wrong. It wasn't okay. It was all wrong. Wasn't it supposed to be easy when you found someone you cared about? Weren't you supposed to just fit together like a lock and key, nothing but love and desire paving your way? What the hell was wrong with me?

"I'm s…sorry," I blubbered tearfully before attempting to scramble off the bed.

"Don't go," he replied, grabbing me by the arm and trying to pull me back towards him. "I can't let you leave when you're so upset."

I shook my head and tried to pull away. "This is my problem Edward…you shouldn't have to suffer through my baggage."

Edward face was a mixture of compassion and frustration. "Bella no one's free of baggage. And when you care about someone…their baggage becomes yours too, and you try and carry it together. If I let you leave right now…it'll be like I'm supporting this idea you've got that you've done something wrong here. I won't do that. Please stay. We'll watch some really god-awful Scifi movies and mock the horrible acting and costumes."

He was too sweet. I truly didn't deserve him. But I couldn't say no to that, so I nodded in consent and wiped at my eyes.

The remainder of the afternoon bled into the evening. We ate popcorn and mocked the pathetic acting and monster costumes in the SciFi movies. When the room got dark I snuggled against Edward, my head growing heavy against the crook of his neck, too tired and comfortable to even think about moving. He must have known I was falling asleep on him, but made no move to urge me home to my own bed. The tv sounds became a muted background to the sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of his arm around me, fingers tracing soothing patterns along my back.

I vaguely remember the softness of his lips against my forehead before sleep pulled me into its waiting arms.