A/N: When did I start updating on a Thursday? Idek anymore. Tired. Posting and crashing. Hope you enjoy. I love all the usual people. You know who you are. All of you.

Hoodwinked

Chapter 16

"Hold," Edward instructs me, placing the towel in my hands as a small smile curved on his lips.

I only sigh to myself, but it's a better alternative than smiling along with him; or giggling like a school girl. In truth, I'm struggling to contain both.

He's standing behind his car to shield himself as he changes back into his jeans, while I hold the towel up like a curtain in front of him to further conceal him.

"No peeking," he warns wryly, making me immediately blush.

I scoff as some kind of poorly disguised diversion, and he chuckles lightly to himself. He's constantly smiling, and there's no more shrewdness connected to it. I like it; it's pleasant, comfortable, no matter how unfamiliar. He's such an enigma though; I'm not even remotely confident I'll be able to work him out.

I do peek. Through my periphery at first, until I discreetly centre my eyes fully on him. He's in the process of pulling his legs into his jeans, but he's going commando. He wore his underwear beneath his board shorts, and they're just as wet. He'd removed them as well.

For the second time in little over a week, I'm faced with all his male glory before I inevitably catch myself. He's... He's right; despite my failed attempts to mock him, I have no idea what's considered normal. He could be the smallest guy in existence, but he still appears too large for me.

Jesus, I'm going to have to Google.

Naturally, he glances up and catches me as that all too familiar smirk once again makes an appearance. After tugging his jeans over his hips, he straightens up without zipping his fly.

"Seriously, if you wanted me to show you, you could have just asked," he teases me.

"Just...—shut up!" I utter beyond mortified, ducking my rapidly burning face behind the towel and cursing my sudden curiosity.

Laughing to himself, he grabs the towel from me, tearing it away, and with my eyes everywhere but on his, I somehow catch sight of him tucking himself behind his zip. And, of course, he catches me again.

I groan beneath my breath, allowing my head to hang forward in barely concealed frustration; there'll be no living this down.

"I can show you. I really don't mind," he offers, taking too much pleasure at my expense.

"I'll take a raincheck," I mumble to the concrete beneath my bare feet as he moves beside me and drapes his arm around me.

"Sure?"

"Not yet."

. . .

"You can't judge me over it, though," he pipes up five minutes into the drive home.

"What?" I ask blankly.

"We just got out of the water..." he alludes, and before I'm aware of it I'm breaking into a broad grin.

"You are such a male," I tease him, turning to glance at him squarely.

"It's biology," he adds, as I almost laugh.

"I'll take your word for it."

"Stop that." He feigns some kind of anger, but his smile gives him away.

I do laugh this time. It's the icebreaker I need to ditch some of my awkwardness. "So, did I pass?" I ask when my laughter dies down.

"Pass...?" he appears confused before it dawns on him. "Oh... Yeah, you passed." His smile this time is almost secretive.

"What?" I put to him, curious.

"Nothing," he says half shaking his head.

"Tell me!" I insist.

"It's nothing," he repeats himself. "It's just... Never mind."

"You're driving me mental," I reply, exasperated, as he chuckles.

"You just surprised me, that's all, and very few people do." He pauses to glance at me and I can't decipher his expression. He appears almost serious.

"Is... that a good thing?" I ask with uncertainty.

"Of course, it's a good thing."

"So... we're going to be real for the longer than the formal?"

His grin becomes toothy and when his head shakes again it's to himself. "Let's just get past this week, okay?" he eventually answers.

I open my mouth, but hesitate, unsure whether his hesitation has hurt me. "So... you only want to be with me if I can handle letting you feel me up?" My voice threatens to become screechy again and in response he rolls his eyes.

"Did I say that, you pain in the neck?" he says, arching a brow with more than an element of frustration.

"No, but..."

"I have to make sure it doesn't fuck up everything," he adds a little too stiffly.

"Everything...?" I ask in a small voice.

"Have I ever done anything to you that warrants you thinking I'm a bastard?" he suddenly demands, ignoring my question.

"...No," I concede. "I'm sorry."

He huffs. "If we go down badly it's not only going to fuck up everything between us, but you and midget, as well. And if that happens, she'll kill me."

"...I..." I begin, but let it go, suddenly feeling like the asshole he thinks I think he is. "I'm sorry," I repeat myself.

"I might give you shit, Bella, but I'm not serious. I thought you knew that?" He turns to me, his eyes wide, and I realise the extent that I've hurt him.

"I'm just a... little kid." And right now, that's exactly how I feel.

He scoffs softly half beneath his breath. "Just don't get all needy on me."

I break into a small smile, but am unable to raise my eyes from my lap.

"Oi?" he speaks up after roughly thirty seconds of silence.

"What?" I mumble.

"Will you look at me?" He's frustrated again.

I do, reluctantly. "What?"

"From this moment on, Bella, our friendship is over. It's dead. You realise that, right?" He's serious. He's completely serious, and I'm a little thrown by it.

"What?" I ask, my voice coming close to failing.

"When friends get into it with each other, there's no going back. If it goes to shit, I probably won't want to ever see you again, and you won't want to even look at me."

I shake my head, adamant he's wrong, because I can't conceive of it. "No..."

"That's just how it works," he murmurs, releasing a hand from the steering wheel to rub his fingers against his creased brow.

"But we're still friends now," I stress a little too desperately.

"Yeah, we are, but sex is the ultimate friendship killer, so I want you to be sure. What we were a couple of days ago? That's gone."

"Edward..." I reply, my voice softly wavering, but to say what I have no idea. That he might stop being the boy from next door suddenly scares the crap out of me.

"We're not little kids anymore, Bella. I can't just bring you a Mars Bar after we have a fight and expect everything to be better. If it ends, that's it."

"Why didn't you say this yesterday!?" I suddenly demand, but my chest feels as if it's restricting, and I'm not sure I'm able to breathe.

"I thought you were already away of it."

"But..." I shake my head again, when he breaks in.

"Let me put it this way?" I open my mouth to protest, but letting it go, he continues, "Are you still friends with Mike?"

"Of course not, but he wasn't my friend to begin with."

"If he was, would you still be?"

I don't answer; I can't because I'm already aware of it, and so is he.

"Bella..."

"But you'd never treat me like he did—you told me you wouldn't!" I point out, almost succumbing to tears.

"Of course, I wouldn't, but it can still go to shit. We might just fight so damn much that we end up not being able to stand one another."

I shake my head again, unconvinced. "As much as you've pissed me off in the past, it's never got to that point—ever."

"Yeah, but when you add sex to something, it changes—everything," he says, in a quiet voice.

"Then why—why are we doing this, you asshole!?" I blurt out, but I'm not angry; I'm more than a little freaked out.

"Because you needed a pity date, and shit happened—I don't know!" His palm thuds back to the wheel in frustration.

"It was your suggestion—to go real!"

"You didn't say no," he reminds me.

"I...I... didn't realise..." I continue to shake my head, but my hands are shaking more, and my heart is beginning to hammer. The possibility that I could lose him, lose his friendship and everything he means to me, it never once occurred to me. Maybe that makes me naïve, but it didn't.

"Bella..." he says with a heavy sigh but I cut him off.

"I know you, Edward. All my life I've known you. I would never have agreed to any of this if I thought it could end everything."

"Bella..." he begins again, but I don't let him continue.

"I don't believe there's anything you could do to me that would make me hate you. I don't."

He sighs again; though, it's more of a huff as if I'm not only exhausting him but annoying him. "Why is everything with you a bloody drama?"

"Because I bloody love you, you shithead!" I burst without any idea of the words I've just spoken. "And I can't...not...see..." I freeze as realisation inevitably hits me, and as Edward turns to me, his expression smoothed out in surprise.

"What?" He's obviously in shock, while I'm in complete denial.

"I mean...I... you... I... Shit..." I drop my forehead to my palm, mortified. "Well, go on. You might as well say it," I mutter sarcastically from behind my hands a moment later.

"Say what?" he replies, his voice remarkably at ease.

"I told you so."

"I told you so," he echoes lightly just as I look up and shove him.

"Asshole!"

"What?" He laughs. "You told me to say it."

"It's not funny." I can't look at him, and this time it's exactly for the reasons he no doubt suspects.

"I'm sorry." His voice softens, but it's still way too light-hearted, and I can't stand it.

"If you give me shit over this..." I don't elaborate; there's no point, but in return Edward scoffs.

"Jesus, what kind of asshole do you think I am?"

"—You're...you're meant to say something back—like ditto or something! Christ, Edward!"

"Ditto," he says casually. Way too casually.

"What?"

"I'm saying it back."

"That...sounds coerced."

He rolls his eyes, but his smile only twitches broader. "God, you're a pain in the neck."

"Edward..."

"You just surprised me, that's all. Twice in an hour? I wasn't exactly expecting it."

"You're not the only one," I mutter dryly.

After that all conversation between us becomes stifled, and thirty minutes is way too short a time to consider my feelings for him and the prospect of losing more than I ever thought I'd gain.

"We shouldn't be doing this," I say when he pulls to a stop is his garage and turns off the engine.

"What?" he asks confused, turning to face me.

"I'd rather not realise how I feel about you and keep you as Alice's shithead brother," I admit sounding completely irrational.

"What are you on about?" he teases me. "I still am Alice's shithead brother."

"You know what I mean," I mumble.

He only smiles, it's broad and warm and on the cusp of being a laugh. "Come on, you dork. I'll walk you out."

Clutching my hand, he leads me to halfway between our parent's properties when he stops. "Is your old man home?"

"He's on day shift this week, so yeah."

"Okay, better stay here," he says lightly, and pulling his hand from his front pocket he takes my other one. "Are you going to stare at the ground for the next—god knows how many months?"

I'm forced to look up and witness the laughter in his eyes as well as that self-satisfaction of his. "Do you believe me now?"

"Believe what?"

"That this is who I am."

"I always knew..." he half shrugs a shoulder, and releasing his hand he cups it to my cheek to keep my gaze on him.

"I won the first bet," I begin, as Edward's brow quirks in confusion.

"Okay...?"

"Promise me you'll give me whatever I ask for."

He scoffs. "Before I know what it is?"

"It's not...just promise," I snap, frustrated.

"No."

"Can you just humour me? It's not about sex—Christ!"

He fights the obvious urge to laugh and breaks my gaze. "You're always the one bringing it up."

"No, I'm not!" I retort indignantly.

He only flashes me a dubious brow and clears the amusement from his voice. "What do you want, then?"

"Don't call me snotface anymore."

"Really?" he sounds unconvinced.

"Really."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"Okay." He shrugs. "I'll try not to."

"No trying."

"I can't until tomorrow night, anyway," he reminds me.

I release a conceding breath. "Let's just...not have any more bets, either."

He nods once, slowly. "Okay."

"I'm not reneging," I quickly add.

He breaks into an immediate smile. "I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it."

"I'll let you in on something," he says, leaning slightly toward me.

"What?" I reply cynically.

"By Saturday night, if you hadn't fessed up on how you feel, I wouldn't have made you go through with it."

I gauge him for a moment, wondering again if I will ever work him out. "What if I did but wasn't ready?"

"There's a difference between not being ready and just being nervous. I'd know, either way," he says, too bloody confidently.

"So... you were that certain I..." I break off, feeling my face flame. You'd think the second time admitting it would be easier, but it isn't.

"I was certain, what? That you were in love with me?"

"Yeah," I mumble, eyes on the grass again.

He sighs deliberately, and placing his fingers beneath my chin, he guides my gaze back to him. "Yeah, I was pretty certain."

"How."

"You told me."

"What?" I'm suddenly confused. "When?"

"You forgotten about that letter you wrote me?" he raises his eyebrows in reminder as my face bursts into flames.

I had.

"Oh god..." I groan behind my hands that I clamp tightly to my face. I was twelve, he was fourteen, and I can only attribute it to the onset of puberty because I was convinced I was in love with him. Something I confessed to him in a three-page letter I sprayed with my mother's perfume. He never mentioned it and I was too mortified to ever bring it up. "I... I didn't think you ever got it."

"You put it in the letter box and midget hand-delivered it to me."

"You never said anything."

"I was waiting for you to bring it up. You really forgot?"

"Yeah..."

"Huh."

"Shut up, I was a kid. It was a phase."

"I was pretty flattered," he completely contradicts me, and how I expected him to react.

"You didn't give me shit over it." It's not a question; it might be a revelation.

"Yeah, 'cause I'm actually a decent guy, deep down," he teases me.

I blush, it's raging, and if the degree of my skin is anything to go by, just as conspicuous. "I figured your dad thought it was junk mail and threw it out."

"You wrote my full name in a love heart on the envelope," he reminds me as I groan louder.

"You saved me from drowning, I was twelve..." I attempt to rationalise, but abandon it further behind my palms.

He laughs, and taking my hands he pulls them from my face. "After that, I figured you'd eventually fess up, but you didn't."

"It kind of...went away," I admit.

"Really?" he asks sounding unconvinced.

"Yeah, I don't know. You started giving me a ton more shit. I dunno..."

"Yeah, because you started avoiding me," he says, and in response my brow knots in further confusion.

"I figured you didn't feel the same, and I let it go."

"Nah, but I thought if I got under your skin enough, you'd eventually crack and admit it."

"...What?" I utter after staring at him for a good ten seconds in shock. "That's why?"

He shrugs a shoulder. "Yeah, pretty infantile, I know, but it was just...how we always were."

I only shake my head because I really have no words, and because he's right. Once upon a time I liked when he teased me. It once made me laugh. Once...

"You can't stop fighting with me, either," he adds, that smirk of his lighting up across his face. "But, then, I know how to rile you up, so it shouldn't be a problem."

"No more snotface," I reiterate as he laughs.

"I promise."

"Okay..." I say sceptically because I'll believe it when I see it.

"I have an early start in the morning, so stop bitching and kiss me." And without waiting for me to answer, he grabs my hands again and pulls me flush against him.

I tilt my head back as he cups both his palms to the side of my face and presses his lips to mine. It's brief again but has just as much impact on me as if it wasn't, and I swear behind those jeans of his something else made contact with me.

"I'll come get you tomorrow arvo," he says in a soft voice against my hair after planting his lips to my brow.

I nod and clear my voice before answering him, feeling more than a little dazed. "Okay."

He pulls me back to meet my gaze, his smirk becoming shrewd. "I hope all this shy shit isn't going to hang around."

"Shut up! I am shy!" I snap as his grin widens.

"There she is..." He clamps my nose between his fingers. "Would you get inside already?"

"I'm going," I insist, but I don't move. I have no idea why, but in retaliation Edward flicks my brow.

"You're pretty cute," he bends down, bridging the distance between us, "Bel-la." He shoves me back slightly then, square in the forehead, and almost making me stumble.

"Asshole."

"You love me."

Jesus, I do, but I still have no idea how it even happened.

. . .

Come over, I text Alice, the instant I close my bedroom door behind me.

She arrives not a minute later.

"Okay," she says, holding up her palm to me before I can open my mouth, "I don't mind hearing about it, but just so you know, all adjectives will be received as a hostile act. He's my brother, don't forget."

"How could I," I say, breaking in a wry grin.

"So," she releases an over dramatized breath and flops down on my bed beside me, "how'd it go?"

"Good," I say simply, my smile turning inward as my thoughts recap the past several hours.

"Just good?" she puts to me dubiously. "Did he get all pushy and grabby?"

"No," I reply. "He was pretty understanding."

"Hmm..." she considers it, not sounding even minimally convinced.

"He was," I'm insistent.

"Well...if you say so," she adds, but I realise I'm not likely to win her over. It's Edward, after all.

"Just..." I prepare to breach the subject of her brother's anatomy.

"Just...?" She raises her brows, encouraging me to continue.

"Is he...?" I'm not sure I can finish. It's a lot more awkward than it was in theory.

"An asshole...?" she speculates my train of thought.

I break into a quick grin, glad for the sudden distraction. "No."

"Well...?" Her head tilts with obvious curiosity.

I start over, dropping my gaze to my wringing hands. "I mean, is he considered..."

"Bella—what?" she bursts exasperated when I once again abandon it.

"Is he well hung?!" I blurt out before I can talk myself out of it.

I'm met with silence, and when I raise my head, I'm faced with her utter repulsion. In fact, she looks like she's on the verge of gagging. "Please tell me you don't want to talk about my brother's...package?!"

"I just," I attempt to explain myself when she cuts me off, placing her palm an inch from my face.

"No—ew!"

"Alice, come on. You're my only link to the outside world," I tease her in an effort to dispel some of the awkwardness.

"Okay, would you like to talk about your father's...?" she attempts to explain her reasoning, only she can't say it; instead, she drops her head to her outstretched hand and massages her brow.

"You had no problem dacking him last week like it was completely inconsequential," I remind her as her head immediately snaps up.

"That was for your benefit!" she declares.

"This is for my benefit," I point out, as she gauges me for a moment before expelling a long-winded breath.

"Okay. What do you want to know?" she asks behind closed eyes.

"Just...give me a comparison," I mumble.

"You think I've seen my brother with an erection?" she exclaims in a harsh whisper.

"You've seen Jas with one."

"Ugh... Okay," she relents behind another completely over dramatized sigh," he might be...fractionally larger than Jas—and this goes no further than this room!"

She's serious, and I'm suddenly fighting to hold off my grin. "Promise."

"Anything else?" She huffs, clearly less than impressed.

"Is he...average? Above average...?"

She tilts her head as if to contemplate it or to protect her psyche from this conversation, I'm not sure. "I guess he's a... good size, but Bells, give me a break. I've only been with Jas," she suddenly appeals to me. "Can't you ask your mum?"

"You would inflict that hell on me?" I put to her with a quirked brow.

"At least you have a mother," she pulls her ultimate out trump card.

"Below the belt!" I exclaim.

"Gotta go!" She springs to her feet. "Talk tomorrow, babe."

And before I can open my mouth, she completely abandons me.

"Everything all right, sweetie?" my mother pops her head around the door three seconds later, making me suspect she was listening in, and to hell with it.

"Can we talk?" I ask, forcing back the instinctive groan.

Her expression immediately brightens, before she enters my room and sits beside me on the bed, her brows raised in anticipation. "What would you like to talk about?"

I suddenly understand how Alice had just felt, but sucking it up, I raise my head and force the cringing back. "I'm not sure if Edward's...average...?" I over emphasise the word, leaving it hanging while fully suppressing the agony I'm in.

She catches on immediately and her smile becomes almost suffocating. "Oh, uhm, alright then... Be right back." She exists my room, returning not thirty seconds later with her phone. "Okay." She places herself back beside me on my bed as her fingers scan through some kind of chart of...the male anatomy.

I drop my head in complete mortification, knowing she's more than likely had the paged bookmarked for this exact moment.

"Which one is closest?" she asks with a surprising amount of delicacy as she hands her phone to me.

I take it, realising my curiosity is momentarily supplanting the hell I'm in as I scan through the dozens of comparative photos. They're catalogued by width and length in conjunction with the size of the testicles. After several minutes of trying to separate Edward from the hairy exampled men, I narrow it down to three; pointing them out to my mother a moment later when I realise I can't decide.

"Okay, well"—she clears her throat and straightens up even as she fights off the obvious urge to grin—"he's quite...well-proportioned."

"It's going to hurt, isn't it?" I ask, letting go of all my inhibitions, because this really is something I need my mother for.

"Not necessarily..." she alludes; something she quickly elaborates on. "There are ways you can relax beforehand and get your body prepared. Edward can help you—I have some books on it."

All at once, I get it. I lunge to my feet. "Okay, thanks, Mum—really."

"Oh, there's nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetie." She waves her hand offhandedly like she often does with me; not in the slightest bit deterred by my continued humiliation. "Have you...experimented with him, yet?"

"Yes—I mean, no." Realising my error, I squeeze my eyes shut; knowing my mother will more than likely expect details. "I mean...I'm really tired."

"You sure?"

"Positive," I insist, forcing the smile to my lips until my cheeks ache.

A B12 vitamin and a herbal concoction later and I'm rid of my mother's enthusiasm. I consider going to sleep, but I'm way too wired; my thoughts too centred on the shithead next door.

He sends me a text just as I'm exiting the shower: Send me a pic of your tits.

No, you pervert!

I need a visual to sleep.

You have the busty blonde. I remind him.

Yours are nicer.

You think I'm that easily swayed?

You saw mine. It's only fair.

I type out several replies, only to delete them all in frustration knowing he'll only twist them.

Stop stalling. Edward adds when I fail to reply.

I am not sending you a tit pic. We're not there yet.

Yeah? Not yet?

Not yet.

Tomorrow?

Go to sleep!

In response, he sends me several laughing emoji's followed by a kissing one.

I was twelve. How old were you? I text him as I'm crawling beneath my doona.

How old was I when...?

When you realised, you asshole.

Would you make sense!? He replies along with an eye roll emoji this time.

When you realised you liked me!

Oh. He answers, and for the next several moments there's no reply; just the three moving dots indicating he's probably replying and deleting like I was moments ago.

Hello... I prompt him.

I'm thinking. He texts almost immediately, but there's no further replies, and in frustration, I give up.

Goodnight, shithead.

Goodnight, pain in the neck. He adds another kissing emoji, but that's it.

It's not until I wake in the early hours of the next morning that I realise he sent me one last text just before midnight. I click on it and stare dumbfounded at the one word he'd typed almost convinced I'm reading it wrong.

Ten.

A/N: Thanks for reading.