A/N: I'm a little late this morning, aren't I? Let's get to it then. ;)

Betad over and over by the wonderful Michelle Renker Rhodes.

Most characters belong to S. Meyer

Chapter 15 – How Fate Begins

BPOV

Angie rummages furiously through her bag.

"What are you looking for?"

"There's gotta be one in here somewhere," she mutters to herself. "Shit, why the hell don't I smoke?!"

I bump her shoulder hard, and she starts laughing.

We're in the middle of a half hour break from our once monthly Saturday morning Comp practice. The kids are all spread out around the studio; talking, laughing, dancing and eating the pizza pies we've ordered - and I've just finished telling Angie about the best fucking date of my life.

"That's so sad about Mel's parents, though," Angie says once we're done cracking up. "Fucking drunks should be drowned in their own vomit."

"Yeah," I agree much more soberly. "I get the feeling there's a lot more to the story, but," I shrug, "he'll tell me the rest when he's ready. I'm just glad he told me that much."

"Poor Mellita," Angie says, shaking her head, "to have lost both her parents and when she's at that age. No wonder she clings to you."

"What do you mean she clings to me?"

"Bella, mi amor, you're more like her big sister than her dance teacher at this point. I mean, you've always been so maternal, always taking care of the kids around here," she smiles. "That's why they love you so much."

"They love all of us!"

"They love me because they like hearing me curse in Spanish," she smirks. "They love Jake cuz he's got that great ass, they love Jessica cuz she's clumsy as hell and watching her trip over herself is fucking hilarious, but they love you because you're pretty and warm and so fucking sweet to them. And you're even sweeter to Mel. Hell, half of the time, you treat that kid like she's yours."

"I just," I shrug, "I don't know. I feel her, you know? I mean, I know it's not the same. She lost both her parents. My mom is still kickin' it somewhere and I've always had Charlie, but...there's this connection…"

Angie smiles softly. "Bellita, you don't need to explain it. It is what it is. I mean, yeah, it's fucked up how she lost her parents, but…maybe fate's at play here for you somewhere…"

"You mean her parents were hit and killed by a drunk driver all so that she and her uncle could come into my life?" I snort. "No offense, Angie, but that's a really messed up way to see things."

"No, Nena, that's not what I mean," she rolls her eyes. "But you can't deny that there's some powerful shit going on here. I see it in your eyes when you look at her. I see it in his eyes when he looks at you," she says quietly. "It's like…somewhere…all this was already determined."

We hold each other's gaze quietly.

"Anyway," she claps her hands once, "finish telling me about this date. Bendito," she grins, "how the hell are you even walking this morning, much less dancing? If that's how he kissed you, I can only imagine how he fu-"

I cut her off before she can get too far ahead of herself. "We didn't go that far. We kissed for a while longer, a long while longer," I giggle, "and then I went upstairs, and he went home."

"Que? What? You let that man go home without a proper fuck? Tu 'stas loca? Are you crazy?"

"Angie…I'm not ready for that. And besides, we just had our first date last night!"

"Hold up," she says, putting a hand up to halt me. "See, that's where you're wrong. You two have been dating for weeks now; you were just both too pendejitos to know it. That's how I knew he'd finally wake the fuck up if he found out you were going out with another man. No way in hell Papi Chulo was gonna let his woman be wined and dined by some other asshole!"

She makes me laugh despite her insane reasoning. "I should really kill you for that." I smirk. "But I won't."

"I know you won't," she snickers.

"But seriously," I say much more soberly, "before Edward and I get that far, I'd have to tell him."

"Tell him what?"

"About me, obviously. About the things I did when I was with Eli. About the kind of…relationship we used to have."

She glares at me incredulously. "Now why the hell would you have to tell him any of that? Bella, that's your past," she cries. "You don't need to tell anyone about that!"

I'm shaking my head as she's talking. "It wouldn't be fair to him."

"Bella!" she says, "You think he don't have a past? You think we don't all have a past? But that's where it stays; in the past!"

I look down at my hands. "I feel like that would be…dishonest," I admit quietly. "I mean, Angie, it's not like I just…slept around. It was an entirely different lifestyle, an entirely different world!"

Her hand is suddenly over mine. She strokes it tenderly. "Bella, I know you want to be honest, but first, Sweetie, you need to get past all that. I know you. If you were to tell Papi Chulo about all that now, before you've gotten past it yourself, you'd be a mess, and you'd ruin this before it even gets a chance to get started. Once you two have been together, really together, for a bit longer, then you can get into confessions and shit. Believe me, he's a man; that's exactly what he'll be doing: waiting 'til he's got you nice and secure before he springs his own skeletons on you."

"He wouldn't do that. He told me he needs some time, but I'm sure whatever skeletons he has aren't anywhere near as….scary as mine."

The thing is, I can't have sex without seeing all those images…without remembering it all…without feeling…wrong…

"So when are you seeing him again?"

"Tonight. He's coming over for dinner." I sigh…and then laugh at myself again because I haven't been this excited in a long time.

Angie laughs at my expression too. "Where's Mel going to be tonight?"

"She's with her grandparents 'til tomorrow."

"Good! So you can fuck him good and proper tonight!"

"Angie…"

"Fine, fine!" she frowns. "Well, if you two aren't gonna fuck, then why stay home? You should go out together. Ooh, go dancing at a club or a bar or something! Show that hot-ass man off if he cleans up as nicely as you say he does. Hell, take him all dirty in his tool belt and hard hat; he still looks good!"

"Angie," I chuckle at her exuberance, "I've done the clubbing and partying thing. I need a break from that scene, and you know why. Besides, Edward is working today. He'll probably be tired when he's done, and anyway, he doesn't look like the type who likes partying much. I think he's more of a homebody," I shrug.

"I guess." She looks so disappointed it's almost comical.

"Seriously, how do you go from talking about fate to talking about fucking so quickly?"

She shrugs. "Who says this can't be about both? Maybe your fate is to fuck him."

And then she breaks out into fits again, while I shake my head.

OOOOOOOOOO

For the next couple of hours, I force myself to focus on comp practice, but it's so hard to stop thinking about my night with Edward…about that kiss…about our upcoming evening together, and that just adds a completely new level of distraction.

Though what I told Angie is true, that I'm not ready for a sexual relationship, it doesn't mean I don't want to fuck Edward's brains out with every fiber of my being. Last night for example, when he had me up against the wall kissing the shit out of me, the hard-on he had going on…man, oh man. I could feel every last inch…

Fuck, I've got to stop. I'm in the middle of my class grinning like a fool, and I can feel my cheeks already flaming.

"Charlie!" I hear Angie exclaim. When I look up, there's my Dad, standing by the door. Angie runs over to him and gives him a hug.

"Five minute break, Guys," I call out and walk over to my Dad and Angie.

The three of us catch up for a minute, and then Angie walks off to give Charlie and me some Daddy/Daughter time. And as soon as she walks off, he gives me the look, the one that says, Where have you been? Why haven't you been by? I thought you were going to make an effort.

Feeling all of twelve and completely under his control, I sigh and bite my lip.

Charlie was really young when I was born, only twenty-one. I mean, even when people see us together now, we don't look like father and daughter. His job keeps him physically fit, and Sue makes sure that he eats more than just those fish burgers he's always loved. What's more, I've seen pictures of him on that fateful vacation in Puerto Rico when he and my mom met, and I can see what she saw in him then. And though he's happily married, I can see what women see in him now.

I've sort of put things together over the years. He had two choices once my mom left: either give up and let me run wild, or be father and mother to me. He chose option two – with a vengeance. The one and only irresponsible thing he'd ever done in his life was fall in love with a flighty woman like Renee, marry her and put a baby in her so quickly. He was determined to make up for that. And so despite his status as a single, working dad, I had eyes on me all the time growing up. It was the least he could do for picking such a waste of a mother for me, and it was…suffocating.

"I thought you said you were going to make time to see your old man soon?"

"Dad…I've been really busy with the Studio, and...I had a date last night…"

"A date, huh?" he smirks. "How did that go?"

"Wonderfully," I grin, bouncing on my toes.

"Hmph," he snorts. "Does Eli know?"

My grin fades. "It's none of his business one way or the other, Dad."

Charlie sighs. In his defense, he has no idea who Eli really is underneath the outward image he projects: the young, successful, choreographer slash real estate developer who I once worshipped and who I once thought worshiped me. Eager to break out of the tight confines of my Dad's grip, I embraced Eli's brand of worship blindly, never stopping to think that when someone worshiped you, they revered you. And when they revered you, they didn't allow others to touch.

But whereas Eli introduced me into his dark world and gave me a chance to see what he was really about, my Dad has no idea that world even exists, or how taken in I was by it. All Charlie sees is the charisma, the outside shell, and he admires it. He's been fooled, just like I was.

And the thing is, I can't take those blinders off of Charlie because then I'd have to tell him that the little girl he tried so hard his entire life to protect threw all his protection away, and all his sacrifices were for nothing. He'd find a way to blame himself, and I can't allow that.

"We're business partners, Dad," I sigh impatiently. "That's it."

"Look, Eli can be a pain in the ass. I know it," he says, while I roll my eyes. "He's not exactly easy to work with; has a couple of my subcontracted guys going nuts, but he's made something of himself, Bella. Trust me. That's not an easy thing to do.

My temper flares. "I know it's not, Dad. And I appreciate the help I've received, but I'd like to think I earned some of what I have as well."

"Bells, Hon," he says contritely, reaching for my arms. "I didn't mean it that way. You know I didn't. Of course you've earned what you have. I just meant that someone like Eli might be good for you, Bell. I don't want you to have to struggle the way I did, the way we both did when you were a little girl."

I snort and drop my head. I know Charlie had it rough when I was younger. I remember those late nights when he'd come home so exhausted he'd barely be able to mumble two words to me before dropping into bed. Nights when it was our neighbor Sue who took care of me, who made sure I ate and did my homework.

And this is why I sometimes look at Mel and see myself.

"So you want me to take the easy way out," I sneer.

He shakes his head. "No, Honey, of course that's not what I meant. I just want you to be happy."

"Then trust me when I say, Dad, that Eli isn't the path to that happiness."

He searches my eyes, and for a second he narrows his, as if he's starting to see the truth in there, and for that same second, I consider letting him see it all.

But this is my father, and no matter what, I wouldn't be able to take it if I ever saw shame in his eyes.

So I break our gaze and look down.

He sighs again. "Look, Hon, I haven't seen you in a while. Let's not argue. I've got a crew working not too far from here. Come meet me after work, and we'll go home together. Sue's anxious to see you too. She'll make your favorite dinner?"

He sounds so hopeful it makes my heart clench, and I look up at him with a rueful smile. "I don't want to argue either. I promise I'll come see you and Sue next weekend, but…I can't tonight."

"Another date?" he asks, quirking a brow.

"Yes," I say softly, "another date. You'd like him, Dad. He's…a lot like you."

"Mm," Charlie grunts. "Do I get to meet this guy?"

"Maybe I'll bring him next week?" For a second, I consider the possibility that I'm moving too fast here. What if Edward doesn't want to meet my Dad just yet?

But then I remember what Angie said, and yeah, I think it's kind of true. Edward and I have been doing this…dance with each other for a while now. And he's important enough to meet my Dad.

Charlie smirks again. "Well, I guess I'll deal with some guy around if it means I get to see you."

"He's…" – I bite my lip – "He's got a niece he's raising. She lost her parents. So it would be him and his niece at dinner."

"How old is this niece?"

"Twelve going on twenty," I grin.

"Hm. Instant family," he states dryly.

"Like Sue got with you and I, but you're moving kind of fast here, Dad."

I can tell he wants to say something more, but he's obviously anxious to have me come over, so the words remain unsaid.

"Next weekend, Bell," he says, waving a finger in front of my face like he used to when I was thirteen, "I'm holding you to it."

"Okay, Dad," I agree, ignoring the child-like reprimand.

"Like I said, I'll probably be around here for the rest of the week. Gotta keep an eye on the site for a while. Eli can be…a bit hard to work with, and I think a couple of the guys are ready to beat his ass."

I can't resist chuckling loudly.

Charlie smirks. "So maybe we can make time during the week for lunch?"

"Alright, Dad," I exhale, "but just you and I. No Eli."

"No Eli," he agrees.

OOOOOOOOOO

My loft isn't exactly a mess, but it's not exactly the neatest thing around either. Let's just say that Martha Stewart won't be featuring my space on her next cover spread.

So when I get home that afternoon, I spend the next hour or so cleaning, neatening up as much as possible. There's only so much I can do, though like at the dance studio, my loft is a great, big space with not much added to it. The studio needs some color, some life added to it, and the loft…my bedroom specifically, is wide open with no walls or divisions to separate it from the rest of the living area. The spare room upstairs where Mel and I spend so much time can also use some sort of makeover; some sort of division or organization, I don't know. I've never been good at this sort of stuff. I know if I took the time and effort with both, they could be some beautiful spaces. My dad has even offered to help a couple of times, put in some walls and stuff, but I haven't had time…and I honestly haven't had the inclination for a while.

But today…this afternoon, as I step back and take stock of my loft, and as I think about the studio as well, I can picture things I haven't been able to picture before. My world is full of possibilities since last night, and…

I'll have to figure something out.

OOOOOOOOOO

Once I've done the best I can with the loft, it's time to get myself ready. I check my cell phone first to see if there are any messages from Edward because he said he'd text me when he was ready to leave work. There are no messages though, so I take a quick shower, and once I'm out, it's time to sort through my wardrobe.

What the hell do I wear?

Yesterday, I couldn't figure out what to wear because I couldn't have cared less. It was only a promise to myself to make the most of things that got me to cooperate and go out with James at all.

Today, outfit after outfit gets tossed out of my closet, out of my drawers because I need to look good! In fifteen minutes, I've got a mountain of clothes on my bed, and none of them are right.

I'm standing in front of my mirror in a red, strappy dress Angie gave me last Christmas. It hits me mid thigh and is about ninety percent spandex, hugging every curve on my body. I shoot off a picture to Angie, and she responds right away that I look fuck-hot.

But fuck-hot to Angie means that I look like I want to get fucked.

So I reach down and pull off the dress, standing in front of the mirror in my black lace panties and bra. I stroke the soft lace on my thigh with one finger…imagining that it's Edward's finger, imagining all the places it could go. My finger trails to the inside of my thigh, and my heart rate picks up, my breathing becomes more labored. I watch myself dragging my fingers against my skin, pretending the fingers are rough, callused at the tips as they near the apex…

With a frustrated huff, I unclasp the bra and shimmy out of the panties because it's too soon.

Instead, I throw on a pair of boyshorts and a sports bra, and over that I slip on a pair of black yoga pants and a one of my loose, gypsy shirts. Then I towel dry my hair, add a bit of serum to it and shake it out.

There.

This is how Edward has seen me for the past few weeks. And somehow…he's liked it. A lot it seems. And I don't want to present myself as someone I'm not now that we're finally getting somewhere.

This is me. Bella Maria Swan. Take me or leave me.

OOOOOOOOOO

I'm seasoning the steak when my cell phone beeps. My heart starts racing before I can get to the text.

Hey. I'm leaving work now. Are we still on for tonight?

Of course! What time do you think you'll be here?

I've got to stop by my place and take a shower and change. About an hour?

Jesus. One hour. Edward will be here in one. hour.

Sounds good. See you then.

Okay. Do you need me to bring anything?

No, thanks. I've got it. And then I add: Can't wait to see you.

Right away:

I can't wait to see you either.

OOOOOOOOOO

I've got some quiet music playing in the background. The steaks and the plantains are warming in the oven, the salad just needs to be tossed, and I'm taking the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc out of the wine cooler so that it's not too cold, when the doorbell rings and with a little yelp, I almost drop the wine.

I fluff up my hair as I walk to the door, smooth down my blouse, check my breath. Damn, I should've gone with the red dress. What was I thinking wearing this? I look like I'm getting ready to go to the studio. He's going to think I didn't care enough to try. I look back at the bedroom and consider breaking into a run and throwing on the dress. The doorbell rings again, and I accept that the exercise outfit will have to do.

There's this gasp that's just dying to fly out when I open the door and in walks Edward.

See, Edward looked absolutely gorgeous last night in his dark slacks and v-neck sweater; he resembled a model who'd just stepped out of a J. Crew ad or something, and based on the numerous heads that turned in our wake, I wasn't the only one who thought so.

But it was night time. It was dark. When I met him out in the street, it was dark. In the truck, it was dark. At Max Brenner's, it was dark. At the park, it was dark. When he pushed me up against the door downstairs and rammed his tongue in my mouth, it was dark.

But now…in the bright, recessed lighting of my loft…I have him in all his clearly visible glory.

He's wearing a pair of jeans, but these aren't work jeans. They're dark blue and clean and loose around his hips yet fitted enough to outline how lean he is. His crisp, blue polo is unbuttoned at the neck, exposing a few wisps of reddish brown hair at the top of his chest. The short, black leather jacket from last night has made another appearance; he's got the sleeves pushed up a bit, baring his wrists and the light, wisps of hair there. He's completely clean, like he was yesterday, copper hair brushed back, though he doesn't seem to have shaved today, and for that, I'm ever so grateful because I can already feel that hair scruff on my neck and shoulders and…

When he takes another step closer to me, I smell soap and detergent and maybe a hint of cigarettes and it's…mouth-watering.

So when he leans into me, my heart stops. I see his face moving closer to mine, and I can't help wondering what he's going to do. Maybe it should be obvious, but this dude's dissed me more than once despite the steamy-as-fuck make-out session last night, so I'm admittedly still a bit wary. Nonetheless, as his mouth nears mine, my eyes automatically flutter closed, and I hold my breath…

Releasing it into his mouth when I feel his soft lips. As that perfect mouth gently brushes against mine, his teeth ever so smoothly tug my bottom lip, urging me to open up for him, and when I do, he brushes his minty tongue against mine with just a couple of gentle strokes…then he gradually pulls away.

I slowly open my eyes again, and I'm sure I'm beaming. He's gazing at me, holding out something.

"These are for you," he grins almost sheepishly. "I didn't want to be predictable with the flowers again," – I keep the fact that he's anything but predictable to myself – "and I know you like chocolate…" His hand rakes through his hair in what I already recognize as his go-to nervous action.

I blink away from him and slowly smile down at the red box with the orange signature.

"Jaques Torres!" I exclaim. "Oh yeah! I love these!"

"I thought you might," he chuckles while I open up the box. Twelve small truffles are nestled inside in three rows of four chocolates. I know the trendy shop by the waterfront where he got these. They're popular, delicious – and pricey.

I look up at him and sigh. "Thanks…but you didn't have to get me anything, Edward."

"I know I didn't have to," he says pointedly, "but I wanted to."

Yeah, he's got his pride. I'm aware of this, and I'm not going to risk injuring it.

So holding his eyes, I pop one in my mouth, grinning.

"Oh," I moan, chewing it slowly. "Oh man! Oh!"

He chuckles lowly, watching me enjoy. "Good, huh?"

"You want one?" I hold out the box to him.

He shakes his head, a half grin on his beautiful face, and I can tell he's pleased by my reaction.

"Come on, come in," I coax him, tilting my head towards the loft.

"Uh…should I take off my shoes?"

I look down at his feet. He's wearing sneakers; nice, clean ones, but I'm barefoot.

"Yeah. Get comfy."

He looks at my feet and grins before using one foot to push the shoe off the other, and leaving him to it, I walk ahead, listening for his footsteps. I hear his soft socks on the wood floor, his swaggered, steady walk following me, and it hits me that it's just him and me, and I'm just like…floating or something.

Still, I have to sneak a peek back to confirm he's really here, and when I do, for once his eyes aren't on my ass. He meets my gaze, holding it so tightly that I finish my walk into the kitchen backwards, unable and unwilling to break the connection.

"You look great," he tells me in this low, surreptitious voice while at the same time backing me up against the counter. "I like you like this."

"Like what?" I smile flirty-like, tilting up my head because he's so close.

He reaches out and fingers the edge of my off-the-shoulder shirt right where it falls off my shoulder. His eyes follow his fingers as they begin stroking my bare skin.

"Comfortable. In your little shirts." He meets my gaze and smirks. "Sexy."

"Thanks," I reply breathlessly, feeling the blush crawling up my cheeks, and remembering that he likes my blush – which makes me blush all the more. Still, it's instinct to look away when I feel my face getting hot. But then his other hand tilts up my chin to meet his gaze again.

"Love that blush," he murmurs.

Oh fuck. I sigh unevenly because I don't know if I'm going to last through the night without jumping him.

So I sort of chuckle, but it comes out like this weird, shaky sound, so I slide myself around him because we haven't even gotten to the dinner portion of the evening yet and we should at least eat before we…you know…do anything else.

"You look good too," I say, gripping onto the counter, heart pounding. "I like you in that shirt and those jeans and that jacket…I really like that jacket." Then I start laughing because I'm babbling and I know I sound ridiculous.

"Thanks. I should probably take it off though, right?" He smiles, and he suddenly sounds almost as nervous as I feel as he takes off the jacket and places it on a stool.

"Do you want something to drink? I've got soda, beer, water."

"I'll have some water, thanks."

"Water? Alright." I walk to the fridge and open it, looking in and attempting to cool off my face with the arctic blast that hits me because my entire body is burning with anticipation. "I've got plain or flavored, or seltzer, or San Pelle-"

Suddenly, a pair of strong hands tightens around my waist and spins me around, and everything becomes a blur. The next thing I know, the fridge door is getting slammed shut, and I'm being pushed against it. Cool steel is against my back while Edward crashes his warm body and mouth to mine.

Though it's been less than twenty-four hours and it's only happened once before, I realize I've been holding my breath all day waiting for him; for this. Craving this feeling; this never-ending want and need that absolutely consumes me when he kisses me this way.

He moves his mouth urgently and undeniably demanding over mine. I fist his shirt in my hands while he slides his long fingers against either side of my neck, thumbs stroking my cheeks, massaging my jaw, urging me open for him while he slides his tongue inside. My legs give out, but he pushes one of his legs between mine to hold me up. When my knuckles make contact with his hard abs, I can't resist gliding my hands up and under his shirt. His warm stomach contracts, and he hisses into my mouth, and I can feel the smooth, hard plains of his skin.

It's like total sensory overload: touching, tasting, feeling, smelling and seeing him, and I'm bewildered, not knowing know what I want to touch the most: his abs, his arms, his shoulders, his hair, so my hands trail from one to the other frenziedly, back and forth and back again.

And he seems to feel the same disorientation because while his mouth devours mine, he cradles my face, then drops his hands back to my hips, grips my waist so tight it's almost painful in the most delicious way before they're back around my face, then in my hair...

It's acute; earth-shaking. The earth is actually shaking. It's this need. This pull. It's like we're standing over a volcano waiting for the impending explosion; feeling the building heat.

When we finally pull away from each other's mouths, we're both panting.

"I'm sorry, but I feel like we need to make up for lost time," he breathes, chest heaving against mine. "And I couldn't take the…tension anymore," he grins.

"Mm," I half mumble, half giggle, giggle-shaky. I want to tell him that there's nothing to apologize for, but I can barely see straight, much less speak. It kinda feels like I'm coming down from some sort of…semi-orgasm. Shit, Angie's right: if just his kisses do this to me…

"I guess this is one way to break the tension," I finally manage to murmur.

"Yeah." His eyes sear into me while he runs the tips of his fingers up and down my lower spine, making me shudder. "It is."

"I've got to be honest with you, Edward. I'm not really…good at dates," I admit. "I'm not quite sure how these things are done."

He snorts. "Neither am I."

"But you're doing so wonderfully now. And did really great yesterday," I tease him, lifting a brow. My senses are slowly returning, and though he still has me pressed up against the fridge, I don't plan on moving.

"With four minutes to spare," he smirks.

"I would've given you a few extra minutes if you'd needed them. I'm very understanding."

"I know you are." He searches my eyes, still holding me so, so tightly, and he gets one of those looks I've seen on him a few times, like he's getting ready to say something big.

"Bella…I've got to be honest with you too. There's still…a lot we have to talk about."

"Okay," I sigh, and I swear I'm trying to focus, but that semi-orgasm, it's pretty mind-blowing. "So we'll talk."

"Okay," he grins softly, tracing my lips now with two fingers.

"You sure you want to talk?" I chuckle. "Or even eat?"

He throws his head back and laughs, and Jesus, he's a beautiful man. But then he looks at me again and smiles softly.

"Yes, I'd like to eat if you don't mind feeding me. Dinner smells delicious."

"It's ready," I murmur. "I've just got to toss the salad. You can get the steaks and plantains out of the oven and set them on the table."

"Plantains. I haven't had those in a while."

"Have you ever had them home-made?" I smile.

He shakes his head.

"Well then, you're in for a treat."

His deep, green eyes crinkle at the corners, sweet and relaxed, yet still intense, and though I'm still afraid of what he'll see, though deep inside I know that at some point I'll have to break this magic spell and tell him the truth about myself, I feel more at ease with him than I've ever felt.

We'll be okay. I feel it deep in my heart. This…thing between him and me, it's too strong, too real, and I haven't had real in…well, I've never had real. Maybe it is…fate.

So, so slowly, he dips his head low and captures my mouth again, but this time his kisses are light, gentle ones. After just a few, brief seconds, he pulls away.

"I'll grab the steak and plantains," he winks.

A/N: Thoughts?

Loving your thoughts so much, guys. RL is really hectic lately, but I'll try to get back to you all as soon as possible. :)

Date continues on Monday. ;)

Translations:

Pendejitos – dummies

Tu 'stas loca – Are you crazy?

Bendito – Bless me

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