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Chapter 17

21 October 2011

"Are you hungry?"

"No, I'm okay. Thanks." I turn the page of the comic book he's reading over my shoulder.

Edward nods, shifting his legs on either side of me. I twist my head back so I can look at him.

"Why? Are you?"

"I mean, yeah, but that's like a constant."

I straighten up, taking my weight off his chest. "You can get something to eat, if you want. I don't mind."

He tightens his arms around my stomach and pulls me back. "I'm okay. This is way too comfortable to get up."

Smiling, I burrow further back into his chest. His room is a little chilly, and he's so warm and cozy in contrast, so I'm inclined to agree. He rests his chin on my shoulder, essentially pinning me in place.

I really don't mind.

This having-a-boyfriend thing is working out well for me so far.

I smother a small yawn, and when Edward softly taps a finger against my stomach a moment later, I turn the page for him. The house is super quiet around us, and I could fall asleep just like this; it's been a long day, and this afternoon hasn't exactly been a walk in the park, emotionally. Plus, using Edward as a heated body pillow feels much better than I thought it would.

And I've thought about it. A lot.

I'm practically dozing off when Edward takes a deep breath, moving me with his chest.

"So… Jasper's Halloween party."

It takes a moment before this combination of words clicks into place for me. I incline my head slightly toward his, blinking as my eyes do their best to come into focus. "What about it?"

"You're not going, are you?"

I snort. "That predictable, am I?"

"Only to people who've met you."

"Shut up."

His smile is clear in his voice. "You just said yes because he took you by surprise, didn't you?"

I laugh. "Yeah. Everyone was staring at me. I didn't know what to do."

"Hmm," he breathes into my hair. "I knew it was weird you agreed so easily."

"Right? When you can barely get me to share a car with you to Port Angeles." I lean my head back on his shoulder so I can see him. God, he smells so good. "Were you jealous?"

"It was actually more like admiration," he tells me, directing his focus to the ceiling. I stare at the underside of his chin.

"Of Jasper?"

"Yeah. And now I can add gratitude to the mix, because he's taught me the secret. All it takes is an element of surprise, staring at you until you panic, and then bam – you'll agree to anything." He grins to himself. "I could get you to go to prom with me. I'm going to remember that."

"You're an idiot."

He chuckles as I laugh, adjusting his arms around me to keep me steady.

"You want me to go to prom with you?" I ask while my laughter slowly simmers down.

He shrugs, ducking his head to hide his face against my neck. I think he's hiding, anyway.

"A guy can dream, right?" he mumbles against my skin, making me snort. He raises his head and grins at me.

I put the comic book to the side. He's trying to play it off, but I can tell there's something genuine in what he's saying. "If I say that I want to go to prom with you, but I don't want to go to prom, do you know what I mean?"

While his eyes roam my face, his lips soften from a grin into a smile. "I think so."

"I wish prom meant 'Dress up, and then stay home watching Iron Man with your boyfriend.'" My stomach flutters at calling him that aloud, and to his face. "I'd be okay with that."

"Me too."

We're quiet for a moment before I lightly press my head against his. I take a fortifying breath."Do you want to go to prom? The real one?"

He pauses, giving it some thought. "I think… Maybe?" He shrugs a little, and while rubbing his thumb absently across my side, continues, "If I can go with you."

My heart both sinks and squeezes happily, because I don't want to go to prom, but he's so fucking cute when he says stuff like this. I groan, "You're killing me."

"That would be counterproductive to securing my prom-date," he murmurs into my hair, bending further to press a kiss against my neck.

I bite my lip as I deliberate. "If I say yes now, will it be with the understanding that I'll most likely freak out and decide not to go like an hour before we have to leave?"

I feel his grin against my neck. "Absolutely."

"And you won't get mad?"

"No. I'll just get popcorn for our movie-night."

My grin matches his. "Then I guess you've got yourself a date."

He presses his lips to my neck again, squeezing his arms around my middle. "You realize this means we need to like, stop being a secret couple before prom, right?"

I straighten up and twist around to face him as much as I can, still bracketed by his legs. He leans his head back against his headboard as he watches me.

"I know I'm unreasonable at the best of times, but did you really think I wanted to keep hiding this from everyone for the rest of the school year? I definitely want to stop way before prom. I thought that was part of the plan."

"Well, then maybe you should come to the Halloween party."

I raise an eyebrow. "Why?"

He shrugs, picking up my hand to rub my knuckles with his thumb. "I don't know. We can hang out there. Move the friendship thing along."

Just imagining myself at the party has me suppressing the urge to squirm. The only non-family party I've ever been to was Jacob Black's fifth birthday. I was the only girl there, and his older sisters took pity on me and let me play in their rooms. I curl my fingers around his. "Do you want me there?"

"Yeah," he says, unapologetic.

"Oh." I knew that, but I wasn't expecting him to be so up front about it.

He studies me closely. Without sounding judgmental, but like he's actually curious, he asks, "What makes you nervous about it? Like what specifically?"

Looking away, I shrug uncomfortably. "I don't know. It just does. I feel like people would think it was weird if I went. It's not like I hang out with anyone, so I wouldn't exactly be showing up to socialize and whatever. And then it's like, why am I there? You know?"

He nods, conceding, but he still seems disappointed. "Yeah. I guess."

I feel bad. The fact that he wants me to go feels so good, but I don't know if I'm brave enough to promise him I will. I don't even know if I can promise to try. I curl my legs up a little tighter so I can lean closer to him.

"I can think about it, though," I say, and when he smiles, eyes lit up in something close to pride, I press my lips to the corner of his.

"So what are you dressing up as?" I ask, shifting my arm so I can rest it on his shoulder and play with the hair at his neck.

He smirks, letting one of his hands drop to my lower thigh. "A ghost."

"Seriously? Again?"

"What? It's my trademark move."

"A sheet over your head is a trademark move?"

"Yeah."

"Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but I'm pretty sure there'll be a few five-year-olds walking down the streets doing the exact same thing on Monday."

"They're jacking my style. Those little shits."

"Oh my god," I laugh. "You can't say that."

"Well, as long as you don't tell anyone, who's going to know?"

I roll my eyes, and he laughs as he bends closer to kiss me. A warmth blooms in my chest, and I press towards him, deepening the kiss for a moment. And then another moment. And two more moments, just to be sure.

When we pull back, his pupils are wide and dark, and I can see his throat move as he swallows. My pulse thuds in my ears, a flush rising up my cheeks.

He adjusts his hands on me, fingers curling around my thigh as he slips the other up my back. There's restraint in the way he touches me, just like there is in the way I touch him back. We both reached our limits earlier, when we were kissing after he almost tickled me to death and then asked me to be his girlfriend. We were teetering on a line neither one of us felt brave enough to cross first, I think. That's when Edward dug out the comic and we settled in to catch our breath, in more ways than one. I'm starting to lose it again now, though.

I forget sometimes how new this thing between us actually is, and while part of me doesn't want to wait or hold back, a bigger part is relieved that we do. But that bigger part sounds really kind of boring and stupid when I'm practically sitting on Edward's lap.

I twist his hair between my fingers, forcing my mind to clear some of the fog away.

"Have you ever considered being a bit more creative with your costume?"

He licks his lips. The hand on my thigh twitches. "Not really."

"Didn't you tell me you were going to dress up as Captain America? What happened to that?"

He grins, remembering that moment in his kitchen. "Yeah, but that was before you said you didn't think he was hot. Plans changed."

"Well, if I'm not going to be there anyway, what's the problem?"

"That I'd have to wear a leotard is a pretty big problem."

"Hmm." Feeling uncharacteristically bold, I drift my lips across the line of his jaw. He swallows. "You could be a cowboy?"

"Pass."

"Zombie?"

"Pass."

"Magneto?"

"Pa— Oh. Wait, that'd actually be cool."

"Right? You could have magnets under your clothes and stick forks to yourself."

He laughs loudly, jostling me slightly where I lean against him. He slips his hand down to my knee and, fingers curling around it, hikes it a little higher. "Tell you what, I'll dress up as Magneto if you show up as Mystique."

He leans it to kiss me. I rear back.

"Excuse me? Like, blue and naked?"

"God, yes," he groans, exaggerating. I roll my eyes.

"I don't really think that would help me blend in."

He pretends to be disappointed. "That's true."

"Also, I don't really want to be naked in front of everyone."

"As your newly established boyfriend, I'd have to say I'm happy about that."

"So if you weren't my boyfriend, you wouldn't mind?"

He shrugs. "If I weren't your boyfriend, I'd sit there and enjoy the show with everyone else."

I gape for a second, and then punch his shoulder. "Edward!"

"What?" he laughs, letting his hand slide from my back to the hem of my shirt. He toys with it for a moment before slipping his fingertips just inside, touching my bare skin. I'm immediately and ridiculously distracted.

"You can't say that."

"Why not?"

I blush furiously. "Because."

"Because?" He grins, unfairly not blushing at all. The least he could do is be a little bit embarrassed. "That's not a very good reason. If there are naked girls, I'm interested."

"But it wouldn't be naked girls. It'd be naked me."

"Even better," he murmurs, sliding those fingertips even further under my shirt. He meets my eyes and holds them, articulating very clearly how serious he is.

I swallow with some effort. "What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, because he's making me stupid with his hands and his words and his face.

He grins, but it's a type of grin I've never really seen from him before. It's… sexy. It's so sexy it almost hurts, and I can't tear my eyes away from his mouth. My lungs feel funny. "It means I think you're hot."

My brain seems to melt.

"I'm hot." That was supposed to come out as more of a question.

"You're hot," he confirms, nodding once. "I say that both objectively, as a guy, and very subjectively, as your boyfriend."

"My boobs are nonexistent," I object. It'd probably be more effective if I wasn't slightly breathless.

"That's really not true," he says, and his fingertips slide up my spine, up and up, sending gooseflesh erupting down my arms, and making it impossible for me to release the air in my lungs. But then it comes whooshing out all at once when his fingers reach the clasp of my bra.

He watches me and I watch him, his fingers investigating just underneath it. He's touched me here before, but never under my shirt, never directly on my skin. I shiver, feeling the area across my chest tighten, just as his other hand tightens on my leg.

Then his fingers are moving, following the band of my bra around the side of my back, around my ribs, and his arm is lifting my shirt away from me. In its place, cool air rushes in against my stomach. My muscles contract, and I clench my fingers tighter in his hair.

He traces the outer curve of the cup to the top, pausing for a moment to play with the silly little bow where the strap connects to the rest. His eyes drop to my mouth, and he seems to be breathing a bit heavier.

His palm slowly settles over me, the heat of his hand sinking through the single layer of fabric separating us. I abruptly lose my patience, and any restraint I felt half an hour ago. Edward's officially been brave enough to cross the next line and I'm right there with him.

I kiss him, hard and deep, winding both arms around his shoulders to pull him closer. He groans, and it's awkward, the way we're sitting, squashed up against each other with his legs on either side of me and his hand wedged between us, so he pulls it free and wraps his arm around my back, and before I know it, he's pushing us sideways, bracing me against his chest as we fall against the bed.

I squeal against his mouth and then laugh as I nearly tip right off the side, my head falling almost too far out for my center of gravity to keep me balanced. But he pulls me back and shifts us further towards the middle of his bed, swallowing my laugh with his own, until there's nothing but firm mattress and a bunched cover under me.

Our feet kick and push against his pillows to make room for our legs, and I hear one fall to the floor. He's kissing me again, his tongue warm in my mouth, and his whole body is on top of mine in a way it's never been before. There's a brief moment of confusion and giggles as I try and fail to pull my legs free from under him, but when he gets my drift he raises himself up on his hands and feet, giving me space to move.

He looks down at me, smiling and breathing fast, his lips on the verge of looking puffed and red. I grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him back down, and it's so very different now, when he's the one between my thighs, rather than the other way around. He hesitates, holding his hips away from pressing fully against mine, but I cross that line without looking back, slipping my hand down to the waist of his jeans and tugging him the rest of the way.

He grunts against my mouth as he settles, and my heart trips and thuds in my chest. It's like I can't breathe, and I clutch the back of his head, his hair slipping through my fingers. He's pressed to me from our chests to our stomachs to our hips, and he's so heavy and warm and perfect.

Dragging his mouth away, he dips until his lips find the skin over my collarbone. Heat darts through my stomach, a feeling like being nervous, but much further down. I've felt this before, but never with someone, never in response to what they're doing, and it's so much better this way.

I feel everything; the small bursts of his breath against my neck, the shift of the bed underneath me, the way his muscles tighten as he slowly rolls his hips into mine once, testing the waters. I sigh unsteadily, arching my back.

He kisses up my throat until his lips are hovering over mine, pulling back and pushing forward again. We both gasp at the same time, the sounds intermingling in the tiny sliver of space left between us.

His movements falter when I push back, and we fumble slightly, no established rhythm to fall into yet, but it doesn't matter. We keep going, moving in any way that feels good, kissing until he pulls away, hissing as he leans his forehead against mine.

His eyes are closed, mouth open, and the sounds we make mix with the rustle of the sheets and our jeans. It's absolutely unreal that he wants me this way, the same way I want him. My chest could break open with happiness.

I murmur his name, and his next thrust is different — slow, but deep, making me gasp sharply. We both open our eyes, twinned looks of surprise mirroring back at each other as we pause. The surprise quickly melts from his eyes, though. He cocks his head slightly to the side, studying me closely. I get why when he repeats the motion, drawing a loud moan out of me. Oh, god.

His eyes flare in triumph, and his lips turn up in a halfway cocky grin as he bends down to kiss me, heavy and deep, taking full advantage of what he's just learned by doing it again, and again, and again. I push up against him, encouraging this new line of study. It feels so good. My heart is going to slam out of my chest, and I—

Downstairs, the front door unmistakably opens and closes with a rumbling thud.

We both freeze, each of our breaths held as we strain to listen. He raises his head and looks towards his door, a half-pleading expression on his face. I clutch at him, as if I can make sure it was nothing by just holding him tightly enough.

A floor down, his Mom calls out for Alice.

"Dammit," he breathes, closing his eyes and dropping his head. "Shit. Fucking… Crap."

Taking his hands away and rolling off me, he lies on his back for a second, eyes and fists clenched shut. He swears a few more times and then rolls off the bed with a drawn-out groan.

I feel cold without him on top of me, and my brain is still very much foggy. I can only stare at he walks over to the door, unashamedly reaching down to his groin to do what I'm assuming is an adjustment.

"What are you doing?" I ask, rising up on my elbows.

"No closed doors allowed," he says, grimacing as he reaches for the handle.

Oh, god. I scramble off the bed, tugging my shirt back into place and smoothing down my hair. His bed looks… well, it looks exactly like we just made out on it pretty hard. Which is great.

"Yeah. You can thank Alice and Jasper for that."

"Why, because of him falling out of her window and stuff?" I hastily grab the fallen pillow from the floor before shaking out his cover and straightening it as best I can.

He heads over to his desk, unplugging his laptop and bringing it over to the bed.

"Yeah. They made it worse by breaking the rule all the time, though." He looks appropriately uncomfortable with the idea. "So I'm well aware of the punishments in store for me if that door" — he hooks his thumb over his shoulder — "is closed with you on this side of it." He settles back against the headboard, laptop across his knees, and pats the space beside him.

I stay where I am. "But… I mean, when your mom sees me up here, she's going to know, right? She's not stupid."

He smirks and lowers his voice. "Right, but if we're not caught, she can't ground me."

"Oh. Got it," I breathe on a laugh. Settling in beside him, I watch as he opens up a browser and directs it to his favorite comic book website.

My pulse is still tripping through my veins, though, pounding between my legs, and I can't help but lean into him, drawn close by literally everything about him. I can see the muscles of his stomach tightening under his t-shirt. "Edward?"

"Mm?"

"That was really nice," I murmur, reaching out to hook a finger into the pocket of his jeans. I hesitate as other, braver words hover on the edge of things left unsaid, but he turns and looks at me then, and there's a weight in his eyes that encourages me to give them a gentle push. "I'm sad we had to stop."

He freezes, eyes flaring slightly wider, his chest rising as he takes a slow and measured breath. "Me too," he murmurs back, and just as I can hear his Mom start climbing the stairs, his gaze drops to my mouth. He drags his attention away with obvious effort.

"Edward, honey, you home?"

"Yeah!" he shouts, while pulling his laptop closer, probably thinking he's being discreet in covering his hips. I suppress a grin.

I put some respectable space between us before Mrs. Cullen appears in the doorway a moment later. She smiles when she spots me. "Bella! I wondered if the shoes downstairs might be yours."

"Hi, Mrs. Cullen."

"What are you guys up to?" she asks, reaching up to remove her earrings.

This feels like a trick question.

"Nothing much," Edward says, sounding bored. "We were just going to grab a snack. Maybe play some video games?" he adds, turning to me.

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay. Your Dad should be home soon — he's just at the store. He's going to try making curry again, apparently," Mrs. Cullen says, rolling her eyes, and Edward laughs. "You're staying for dinner, right Bella?"

I nod my head. I already checked with Mom when I stopped by at home after school. She was predictably thrilled. "If that's all right?"

"Of course," she says, smiling widely. She turns back to Edward. "Have you heard from your sister? I thought she'd be home by now."

"Me too. She said she wanted to watch a movie with us tonight, but I haven't seen her."

She sighs. "Guess I'll give her a call. I'll see you two downstairs."

She walks away, and Edward closes down his laptop. When Mrs. Cullen's bedroom door closes on the latch, he lolls his head in my direction, holding my eyes.

"Sorry Mom has shitty timing," he whispers.

It's my turn now to take an even and measured breath — my brain immediately goes crazy imagining the things we might've done if we'd been alone for a little while longer. "Yeah, me too."

He swallows heavily, seemingly unaware that he's leaning closer to me. Being very aware of my actions, I lean in to meet him, but then the sound of his mom opening and closing a wardrobe reaches us through the wall connecting their room to his, and we both stop.

His eyes turn rueful, and with a deep sigh, he pushes the laptop to the bed and gets to his feet. "I'm starving," he says, smiling as he holds out his hand.

Responding in kind, I take his hand and let him pull me up. "I could eat," I say, following as he leads the way.

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If I had a curfew, I think it would probably be about half an hour earlier than when Edward eventually walks me home. Becoming a suddenly-social social recluse is a pretty good strategy, in terms of confusing parents so much they forget to slap down some rules and stuff.

He holds the kitchen door open for me, switching on the flashlight once we're outside. He guides us across his backyard and into the trees.

The evening's been really great. I like hanging out with his family — there's more movement and energy than I'm used to. The Cullens are all so animated. Put them all together, and they're loud and kind of crazy. It's exhausting, but the good kind of exhausting.

Alice came home not long after Edward and I had resituated ourselves in the living room, and Dr. Cullen eventually made it home, too. While Edward helped him with the groceries, Alice happily chattered away at me while flipping through their movie collection. She has a way of making you feel part of a conversation she's actually holding all by herself, which works out great for me. All I have to do is nod along.

Their parents ended up watching a bit of the movie with us after dinner, before migrating to the kitchen, and then eventually upstairs. Alice fell asleep in her chair halfway through the film, and I almost did, too. My feet were resting in Edward's lap, and my head was buried in one of the softest cushions of all time. Two things kept me awake: the warmth of Edward's hand on my ankle, and the way he would randomly run a finger along the arch of my foot every now and then, tickling me.

We left Alice in her chair with the credits rolling, after our attempts to wake her up only resulted in semi-conscious mumblings on her part. I wanted to say goodbye properly, since she was technically the one who invited me to movie night in the first place, but Edward pulled me away.

"Honestly, there's no point. She does this all the time. She'll wake up at like three am or something stupid like that." With a twitching little half-grin, he added, "I mean, you're more than welcome to stay that long, if you want. I wouldn't mind."

"I'm sure you wouldn't," I'd mumbled back before leaving him there to go put on my shoes. As much as I would love to stay at his house until the early morning, I don't think my parents would be super thrilled. I'm pretty sure that curfew would be slapped down in no time if I ever did that.

We walk through the woods in easy silence, guided by Edward's flashlight and superior sense of balance. I stop a little ways before the beginning of my yard and take his hand — I can see a light on in our kitchen, and some movement behind the glass. I switch off his flashlight and pull him behind a couple of trees growing close enough together to hide us from sight.

"What are you doing?" he asks, but even in the darkness I can see his smile, and his voice is a low murmur.

"You know what."

I wind my arms around his neck, and he steps closer, bending down to meet me. The kiss is sweet and soft, and he pulls me into him, hands on my hips slipping around my back to hold me tighter.

Eventually he pulls away, though he does it slowly, cupping the back of my head with one hand and placing little kisses on my lips, each one sending a fizzle of warmth straight through my head. I open my eyes in a daze.

"Today's been super weird," I tell him.

He seems taken aback for a second before snorting adorably. "Yeah, you could say that."

"But thank you." My eyes are adjusting to the dark, but even so, I trail my fingers along his jaw as if I'm feeling for where his face is. In truth I just want to touch him as much as possible. "I don't think I really said that before. For standing up for me like that. It… it meant a lot. To me."

I'm glad for the darkness, now. I can blush as much as I want and he'll never know.

His fingers slip through my hair, tucking it softly behind my ear. "No problem. I'm sorry I had to do it at all."

I nod my head. "Me too. But… thank you."

Instead of responding, he kisses me again, deeper than before. His hands hold me tighter, somehow saying everything I'm feeling, without words. I find myself rising up on my toes, trying to get closer.

After a moment I move my lips away and bury my face against his neck instead, hugging him. In thanks, in good night, and just because I feel like it. Just because I feel a lot of things. Things I can't say, can't put into words just yet.

He hugs me back, swinging me gently side to side.

With a long-suffering sigh, he steps back after a minute, placing a final kiss on my lips. "I have to go. You're going to hate me for telling you this, but while I was helping Dad with the groceries earlier, he gave me a talk." He pauses meaningfully. "The talk."

I stare up at him in stunned horror. My brain cannot process this change of direction. "What? Why?"

"I don't think we were being as stealthy when Mom came home as I thought we were. She told him to talk to me about it. It was super embarrassing, and I died a little inside."

I cover my face with my hands. "Oh god. I'm never going to your house again. Ever."

He laughs, prying my hands away. "You know what he told me?"

"No, and I don't want to know."

"He said—"

"Edward."

"—and I quote: 'No funny business in the tree-house. I'm serious, Edward. I built that thing myself, and I know it's not structurally sound enough for funny business.'"

"Oh god."

"He also advised against doing anything outside, just in general."

"Please stop."

"It's apparently quite unsanitary," he laughs, holding on to my arms as I try to leave.

"Why are you telling me this?" I whine, pushing against him.

"Because I need to leave. I've been gone way longer than it takes to walk to your house, so he might start suspecting I'm ignoring his advice if I don't come home soon. I don't want another lecture."

"Okay, that's fine, but you know what also would've worked? Saying good night, like a normal person."

He grins. "Yeah, but this is more fun for me."

I put my hands on his chest and push him backwards towards his side of the woods, which makes him laugh even harder.

"Oh, come on, physical violence, Bella? Low blow."

"I'll show you physical violence if you don't get your ass back home soon. I'm serious." I give him a final push before dropping my hands from his chest.

"I'm going, I'm going. Just get in the house without tripping over a rock first," he says, flicking his flashlight back on and illuminating the overgrown trail for me.

"Shut up," I advise. "Bye, good night, and promise to never talk to me about this, ever again."

"Bye, good night, and I'll try not to."

I scowl up at him. "Try really hard."

He presses his lips together while nodding gravelly. "I promise to try really hard."

"Also, never say 'funny business' again. Or I'll break up with you."

"Noted."

As much as I really don't want to, I turn and leave with a wave, making my way across my yard. I don't trip over any rocks.

Dad's in the kitchen when I open the door, doing the dishes. "Hey kiddo," he says, suds dripping from his hands.

"Hey."

There's a slight moment of awkward silence as we both struggle to decide whether we need to extend the conversation further than this or not. I know that's what he's doing because it's what I'm doing, and I get it from him.

He bobs his head in a nod out the kitchen window. "Edward walk you home?"

More talking it is.

"Yep," I say, nodding.

He nods in response. 90 percent of our father-daughter communication is done in head movement. "Good. Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah. It was nice. His dad made a curry."

Both his eyebrows go up. "Oh. Fancy. I didn't think you liked spicy food."

"It wasn't that spicy. It was nice."

"Okay. Well, that's good."

"Yeah."

We stare at each other for a moment, and the silence transforms into mutual understanding. Say what you will about me and Dad, but if there's one thing we're good at, it's appreciating the subtle art of shunning unnecessary talking. Fully at ease, I smile and nod my head at him. "Night."

He smiles and nods right back. "Night, kiddo."

I'm glad Mom's already gone to bed, because too much has happened today for me to deal with her. Dad's easy, but talking to Mom requires mental gymnastics of the kind I'm really not up to right now. I'd fall flat on my face and probably break my neck.

When I get in bed a little while later, I worry I'm too keyed up to fall asleep. But my eyes are heavy and my limbs are boneless within seconds. It's been a very long day, filled with things both bad and so incredibly good. I burrow my head into my pillow, the cover pulled up to my ears, and let my mind amble freely into memories of Edward's lips and hands and easy smiles, taking me far away from the things that don't matter, and sending me gently off to sleep.

Hey, guys. Thanks so much for reading. I appreciate it more than you know.

Until next time,

Vic