Edward

The day dragged on for what seemed like an eternity. And not just because I was tired – which I was – but also because I couldn't stop thinking about her. I wondered what she was doing. Had she slept the day away after she'd dropped me off? Was she by her pool thinking about me? About the things I'd done to her in the same place the night before? Because that was the only thing I seemed to be able to do.

Goddamn.

I needed to stop being such a fucking chick.

My parents hadn't said much that morning. Not that they would have. They assumed I'd been with Jacob all night, and honestly, it wasn't as if they were naïve enough to think I couldn't have a sex life. Although, it's not as if it was a subject we'd ever discussed. At least not since I was sixteen, and my dad bought me my first box of condoms. It wasn't a very long conversation. And it was also one we never had to revisit because I'd always been smart, safe. I'd always wrapped my shit up because I didn't need anything standing in the way of me getting what I wanted – an education, and the means to get the hell out of this place.

Three more months.

Only now that I'd met Bella, three months didn't seem like any time at all.

And if we only had three months, I planned on making the most of them.

As I was leaving my last job of the day, Jake called. I pressed the button, but couldn't even say anything before he started in. "I'm gonna assume you have a good reason for ditching last night, and it better not be because you took your lame ass home."

I laughed. "Why? Did you miss me?"

"Hell no, I didn't miss you," he said. "But it was annoying when I wanted to go home at around two, and you were nowhere to be found. Even more annoying when you didn't answer your goddamn phone."

"Maybe," I told him, throwing the last of the chemicals in the back of the truck and opening the door to get inside. "I'm just saying, maybe you don't call my phone at two in the morning because I might have other shit going on."

"Don't tell me Edward Cullen actually got laid last night," he said. His skepticism would have normally pissed me off, but the memory of Bella's mouth around my cock took away the sting.

"I'm not telling you dick."

"Yeah, sure," he said, laughing. "Just like I thought. Home in time to watch 'Law and Order' with your parents."

"'CSI', actually," I said, not really ready to tell him about Bella. I wouldn't have known what to say anyway. It was all still too new, and way too fucking personal. And I wanted to keep her to myself, I realized – not sure what to think about the possessiveness I was feeling – especially when I had no business having those kinds of feelings already. "What are you doing tonight?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Working. Just stocking the bar right now. You should stop in if you don't have other shit going on." He threw my words back at me.

"Maybe," I said. I still had no idea what I was going to do with Bella. I just knew that I couldn't wait to fucking see her. "We'll see."

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I pulled up to her house that evening. The summer sun was still high, which was perfect for what I finally decided we would do. I felt nervous. I hadn't felt this nervous before a date in…well, I didn't know if I'd ever felt this nervous. At least, not over a girl. And as I knocked on the door, I tried to shake the feeling. But as soon as she answered the door, I forgot my nerves. Hell, I forgot my own fucking name because there she was, just as gorgeous as I remembered, standing there, her long brown hair – wild, and just a little bit wavy – falling over her shoulders. She was wearing denim cutoffs that rode low on her waist. And she was short, but her tan legs looked long and smooth, and I couldn't help but remember the way they'd felt wrapped around me.

Fuck.

I didn't know what to do. A part of me wanted to reach out, grab her, and just kiss the hell out of her. I mean, that's what I did last night. But that was last night, and this was different. This was a date. And how did you act on a first date, when you were standing in the same foyer where she had sucked your cock the night before?

I sure the fuck didn't know.

"You're staring at me again," she said, her smile taking over her face.

"That's because you're worth staring at." I just said it. Because it was true. And because this girl made me lose all ability I had to filter the words coming out of my mouth.

She bit down on her bottom lip, making me want to be the one doing that instead. And Christ, I was going to have to learn how to control my dick around her. Only, I wasn't entirely sure that was possible. And I didn't know if I wanted it to be.

"You don't look so bad yourself," she said, stepping in. She grabbed the bottom of my t-shirt, and pushed up on her toes to kiss my cheek. Her lips were wet, and her breath warm against my skin. Then she whispered, "I like the Wayfarers."

I thought about the old sunglasses I'd pushed on top of my head before coming in. I'd had them forever. They were one of the first things I'd ever bought myself when I started working summers for my dad.

"They're old," I told her, making my voice low to match hers.

"Vintage," she said before pulling back.

"I'm glad to know you like vintage things." I reached down and took her hand. "That means you're really gonna love my truck. You ready?"

"I've been ready since I dropped you off this morning," she said, pulling me outside. She shut and locked the door before turning around to ask, "What are we doing?"

"Well, first I'm gonna take you to one of my favorite places."

I led her to the truck, and opened the door for her to get in.

"Manners." She giggled. "I like it."

She hopped up into my truck like she'd been doing it her whole life, like it didn't matter that she could buy forty of them for the cost of her car. But this was who I was, and I really wanted her to get to know me.

"Don't get used to it," I told her. "I plan on being pretty rude later."

I shut the door, and she leaned out the window. "Rude, as in vulgar?"

"Maybe." I grinned.

"Can we be vulgar in your truck?" Her eyes sparkled with all the knowledge of just how vulgar I could be, especially where she was concerned. And then, she reached up, took my sunglasses, and put them on.

They were one of my favorite things in the world, and a part of me knew I would never get them back, but I didn't give a fuck. Because standing there, looking at her wearing them in my truck, was so much better than any other memory I had attached to them.

They were hers now.

Just like me.

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A/N

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Sorry for the delay. I've been working 178 days in a row, and Marvar is raising 178 kids. Okay, she's only raising 3, but I'm sure it feels like 178 at times. Also, I'm prone to hyperbole.

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