There's some comfort here, in the backseat of Angela's car, comfort I haven't felt in weeks. The warm, fuzzy, everything-is-going-to-be-okay kind. It smothers me in the sunless light and heat, listening to the voices radiate in front. I text dad to tell him I'll be home in about an hour. He doesn't respond even though he's not working today. I text mom, too, covering my bases.

While Jess and Angela discuss prom and hair, my fingers slip over my screen.

I found a dress.

Good.

I almost didn't. I thought I'd have to wear jeans.

Wouldn't bother me. Save me from renting a tux. :-)

What color is ur dress?

I'll take it back then. We'll crash prom denim jackets. Dress is red.

Dont tell anyone but i have a denim jacket. Red is one of my favorite colors.

Emmett makes me smile the way I should, the way sunshine sits upon a flower to afford a long look at life.

Sigh.

To be honest, there isn't much time left for school and though I've spent the last four years roaming those halls I've always felt separate from everything else, like I didn't belong in any part of it. I'm ready to be free, to find my way from the small town of youth to a metropolis of adulthood and bad decisions. Emmett's influence over my leave makes my chest hurt. Soon, like me, he'll be a wanderer. We'll go opposite ways, make separate, poorly-timed decisions to conflict with our lives. Maybe he'll find his calling sooner, maybe it will be me.

This youth of ours has ruled in our stead. He's found his way now, a way to live in this high school lullabye, and I've barely survived. I wonder how these forces bind us, what purpose it serves, if we're able to live through the ways we'll go. Sometimes I wish this year isn't now. I'm not sure I'm ready. I'm still lost in high school, just becoming adjusted to the surroundings.

When Angela stops in front of my house, I notice dad's car is here. Mom isn't, probably out running errands. I pull my dress from the trunk and tell them bye. I want to try my it on again. Debate on sending a picture to Emmett, but decide to surprise him the night of.

Inside, Dad is eating a sandwich with chips at the table. A beer next to him, as always. "Where's mom?"

He chews, wipes his mouth, looks out the window. Does he even notice she's still gone? "Out. She'll be back later."

I nod, turn to swing out of the kitchen, but I don't. Instead, I look at dad again, listen to the silence of the house, the absence of pointless sports talk from the TV, the crippling movement of his hands on his food. "Is everything okay?"

He doesn't look at me right away, but when he does his eyes are lost. "I don't know."

I want to ask why. I want to know what he knows, but whatever it is I leave to him. It's work, probably. His job is tough mentally, physically, takes its toll. "It'll be alright," I say while mustering a small smile.

A corner of his mouth lifts before he brings his beer to his lips where it disappears, his eyes sliding back to the window. "Yeah."

I leave him to wonder, ponder whatever it is he needs to ponder, dragging my purchase up the stairs and closing the door behind me.

Sun passes. Clouds remain. Night is the same, with chirps of insects and birds. The heart of darkness consumes the world outside my window. I'm on my bed, flipping through apps on my phone, reading a recent purchase on the Nook with money I received from Christmas. I'm not tired at midnight even though I need to sleep. I venture downstairs to make a sandwich.

Ham with mustard. A few chips between. Outside, Mom's car is still gone. My worry extends from my thoughts. I want to wake dad, but he has to get up early. I leave it alone and wander back to bed with my food.

Sunday is the same, only I'm alone. Dad left early. Mom isn't home. Still. I text her, asking her where she is. Two hours later she responds.

At grandmas.

Why?

That's it. There's nothing more she has to say. Confirmation has been made. She and dad are fighting for reasons unknown. I sit in the quiet house with my phone as company and Sleepless In Seattle on TV, ice cream in hand, chips on the couch. I should study for finals but my heart isn't in it. My phone buzzes.

Hey u wanna meet me at the diner?

I bite my lip.

I'm not right for Emmett today, not when the balance of a fragile world lingers in my thoughts. He deserves better, deserves to smile. I don't want to disappoint him or re-think why he asked me to prom.

I have tons of chores to finish before my parents get home today.
If I don't then I can't go to prom.

Sucks!

IKR? I need to get back to work. I'll ttyl.

I toss my cell on the couch and scoop another spoonful of melting cold from my bowl. This is my favorite part of the movie.

.

.

.

In the morning, she's still not home. Dad left early. Emptiness wanders inside our walls. It's suffocating. I can barely stand it. I leave as quickly as possible, wanting out. School isn't better. Edward patrols the halls, sending kids to class with a reminder and a smile. Our eyes touch, but I can't show my infatuation when I approach. Our time together is drawing to a close. After school has become null. Hours during can't provide the means of our words.

We stand feet from each other. This is our connect.

"How was your weekend?" he asks.

"It was okay."

Students swarm past, never around long enough to catch a full portion of our conversation. We step to the side, but remain separate. This is our disconnect. I want to feel his warmth again, his gentle touch, his lips. The green of his eyes seem to flicker.

"I have to tell you something," I say. My stomach doesn't agree, but I must tell him before he finds out some other way. "Um, Friday, after the game, Emmett asked me to prom."

The change on his face may be slight to some, but to me it drops full.

"I said yes."

He looks at the bodies shuffling by, nods. "That's, uh, good, Bella. I'm glad you said yes. You should...I mean, you deserve to have fun."

"I just...I don't know what's going on with us. You asked me to wait, and I have."

His eyes scan behind me, beside us, over the students brushing by. Our secrets oblivious to all. "We'll talk about it later. After third."

I nod and turn away. I've waited already. I've been patient while he works it out. I'm losing track of myself with him and part of me is slipping away. I'm not sure how much longer I can hold on, but I do. It hurts, rips at the scars on my heart to walk away unresolved, still.

I've been patient this long. A few more hours won't kill me but it's harder than I anticipate, watching him while we take a final test before our exams next week. His fingers sliding on his phone while leaning back. He grins once at his screen and I bleed. Is he texting his wife? Is he happy with her, unhappy with me. I can't finish my test. My stomach revolts the idea, sending me to his desk. "I need to go to the nurse," I whisper.

His eyes convey sympathy and hard kindness. I don't understand. "Can it wait, Miss Swan? We're in the middle of a test."

My brow is hot, slick with sweat. I shake my head.

He sighs and writes a pass, handing it over. I rush out of the room. The door slams behind me, through the halls like a cannon fire of surrender. Echoes of heat wash me as I walk quickly, a tremor fills my insides. I will come undone before this is over, before this affair is complete.

The nurse makes me wait for ten minutes. My knee bounces. My nail is dying between my teeth, a victim of something bigger than I can control. When I finally sit on the table in her office, she asks what's wrong. I tell her I don't know, but I feel sick.

"Symptoms?"

I shake my head. I'm nervous and jittery, I say to her, but she doesn't care. She looks at me as though I'm wasting her time. "My stomach hurts really bad."

"I'll be right back."

She leaves me, but I don't wait for her to get back. This hag can't help me. I go into the bathroom, lock myself in a stall and sit. My forehead is against the cold wall. I don't know how much time passes, when I'm at the vending machine plucking a Sierra Mist from it's place, but when I get back to class Edward says the office called here looking for me.

I don't say anything to him. I don't acknowledge his statement. I put my head down and close my eyes. It's all I can do...make everything disappear.

When the other students are dismissed I stay behind in my seat watching as they scatter into the hall. Edward closes the door, locks it then squats beside me.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"I don't know. I feel sick."

"Tell me."

"I just…" I can't say it. The threat of tears is real, but I refuse to cry. I clear my throat. "I don't know what's going on. I've been patient, you know? I think about you all the time."

"Bella," he touches my thigh, shocking me, "I'm sorry. I know this is hard. It's hard for me, too. We'll get through this."

I face him, turning into his chest and he anchors himself there. Our connection is a fire which causes my knees to part on either side of him. "Will you kiss me?" I ask. My voice barely rises to the occasion. He's unsure. I see it on his lips, the hesitation smothering his actions and words, but I wrap my fingers around his collar and resort to begging. "Please."

"Bella...I…"

"Please?"

"It's not a good idea to do it here."

I push myself to the edge of the seat, situating against his torso. His breath is heavy. Fingers explore my arms, shoulders, back until I'm sure he's going to press himself to me. The absence of his body is paralyzing, shortening my breath until I feel I could suffocate without his lips on mine, or his hands curving to fit on some part of me. "I miss you," I say again. "I feel like you're leaving me."

His grin is sad, painful. "I'm not going anywhere."

"The year is almost over."

"That doesn't mean anything. I'll have more time with you."

I look down at his parting lips. "How?"

"We won't have to be here every day. I'll have meetings after the last day, some things to finish up, but only for a week. Then I'm yours."

I shake my head. The fire building reaches my throat, stings my eyes. Tears spill and wreck my strength, ruin my resolve. "I don't know if I can wait."

He leans closer. "I won't leave you."

His lips capture and close around mine. The warmth of them contrasting against the cool drops of tears spiral me from this world, and into an existence of us. There is pain and longing fighting the tide of our kiss. Lust and heat. Passion and need trembling on our skin as we find each other again. I've missed this feeling, this spirit rocking me from my seat and into something dangerous and persuasive, more than me.

I move against him, deepening our connection, riding the heat building lower. He releases and stands, pulling me with him. A groan flutters from his throat. His palms grasp my neck. His lips hold mine, pulling and twisting together. I bite at him, but his lower lip slips away as he leans back.

He smiles and shakes a finger at me, touching the tip of that finger to my lips. One long kiss later, we're apart. I'm aching and falling, gasping and dying for the connection again. "Edward," I start.

He turns. "Bella, if you don't go now then we're going to be in a lot of trouble."

I pull my bag onto my shoulders, only stopping for one last kiss to remember him by, to make it through the rest of the day. He gives it to me. His lips are dewy, pink, and swollen, and I wonder if mine are the same.

I glance over him again before I walk out the door. He's turning away, tucking himself into his chair and scooting under his desk. I smile when I see his jeans, tight and bulging. A hard confirmation of his want for me.