A/N: Aw, hell. I see years ahead of me correcting a misunderstanding with review replies, so I'd rather clarify it here. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.

So, Renee does not like Bella sitting on cold surfaces because she is afraid that it might give Bella a UTI (urinary tract infection). Please google "UTI sitting on cold surfaces". First result: "Cold weather has always been a recognized cause of UTI's." Second result: "Sitting on cold surfaces also favors UTIs." Third result, pretty much: "Why is [believing] this a thing?" etc., etc. There is a paper called "Cold stress induces lower urinary tract symptoms" (2013, PMID: 23441811) which, while not directly about UTIs, further elaborates on related issues, and there was a study done way back in Scandinavia (1992, PMID: 1345322) that concluded "Cooling of the feet seems to provoke symptomatic lower UTI in cystitis-prone women." Another study, same year (1992, PMID: 1589669) summarized that the factors contributing to UTIs in women included voluntary deferred voiding (I hope you all knew this!), cold hands, cold feet and cold buttocks (sic). They conclude: "Cold body parts should be further evaluated as a possible risk factor for UTI in UTI-prone women."

Now, this is not directly relevant to the story, but Bella's mom has a history of UTIs, which is why she is paranoid about Bella getting it. Renee could've easily had some Polish immigrant GP who was like, "Yo, stop sitting on the cold pavement when you play outside in the winter." (paraphrasing)

There are also those who would consider the above to be an "old wives' tale" (not enough studies, sample size too small, p value not low enough, etc., etc.), which is fine. My point here is not to convince you that there is a proved causal relationship. I don't care if you don't think the above evidence is enough. That's irrelevant. What is relevant is that there's a belief among some women who frequently get UTIs that this is a thing. There are women who do not get UTIs as frequently (as before) when they take this into consideration.

Again, I'm not trying to make you paranoid or convince you it's a thing. All I'm saying is that it is not unrealistic for Renee, with a history of UTIs, to know about and believe that it is a thing. That's all.

Thank you for coming to my TEDTalk.

Appreciate you all! Sorry for scaring you with all of this background, but it's hard for me to let this pass without commenting on it. Always feel free to draw my attention to anything you feel is not correct in my stories (and I'll be happy to fix it!), but also be prepared to get a lecture on why I made the choices I made :)

Thank you, thank you, thank you all for your kindness and encouragement! I adore hearing your thoughts.

On to the newest (and longest) chappie. 7K+ words! I hope you enjoy!

…

Scheduled for Friday
by Anton M.

Act II

33: Pink Threads

…
Thursday, February 2 (cont.)

I brushed my fingertips over Edward's jaw, knowing I had to walk on a high-wire of truth above my NDA. (Philippe Petit had nothing on me.)

"Are you allowed to tell me?" he asked, his voice curious if a bit gruff. He didn't seem mad, per se, but it had not occurred to me once that he might've been okay not knowing the details. Even so, it didn't feel right to use the NDA card so soon that it would've made him oversuspicious of every little thing surrounding me.

I squirmed. "Not everything."

"Okay." Edward pressed a kiss against my knuckles. Swooning, I returned the gesture, and the secret smiles we shared almost made me forget about the topic.

"What can you tell me?" Despite the emphasis, there was no accusation in his tone, and it struck me how adult he was sometimes.

I squeezed his palm, hoping that Emmett didn't make tomato paste of my blood after he found out what I was sharing.

"Remember that man behind my window?" Edward nodded before I continued. "I lied, and I'm—sorry. At the time, I just—I wasn't prepared to tell you the truth, but…"

"S'okay." His eyes were calm. A burden lifted off my shoulders at his simple acceptance of my lie. "The man…?" he repeated.

"He did not try to break in, not that we know of. He was there with a camera to take photos of me. Probably."

Edward's lips parted as he stared at me, horrified. "No."

"Yes," I admitted. "Emmett's convinced he's been stalking me ever since but there's no evidence of it. It's probably nothing."

Edward squinted at the trees, the neighbors, and the driveway in the rain as if the man would just walk up to us from the shadows. He lifted the hand that held mine to touch my chin, and his eyes were blazing. "Bella…" His voice felt like a rumble. "That's terrifying. How are you so dismissive of it?"

"Because, I…" I gave Edward a weak smile, not fully understanding the answer myself. "Because it's so surreal. It's just, it's… It's hard to believe. I'm a nobody. Look where I live. I have no… it's just surreal."

Edward squeezed his arm around my waist, pulling me closer, his tight grip so protective I felt breathless in his arms. "Jesus," he grumbled. "I'm never letting you out of my sight."

I felt practically buoyant at his careless, fiery words.

"My NDA's not worth much if you join me on set."

Edward did not laugh, and his green eyes searched mine. "Do you have any clue… why you?"

That was the tricky part. I had to hop off the tightrope and onto a tall building because there was only so much truth I could share (for now).

"My role is… controversial," I lied, pants on fire. "It's still a side part, but some journalist must've caught on to what's happening and… honestly, it might be all of us, I was just the one who caught him."

"I'm—glad you got a bodyguard, obviously, but, but," Edward near-stuttered, voice low and incredulous. "How can you afford it?"

"The studio pays for it," I admitted, relieved I could share the truth (mixed with lies, sadly). "I don't have a key role in the series, as you know, but… they're not willing to take any risks."

"Thank fuck," Edward cursed, pulling me against him, pressing his nose and lips against my cheek, sending a buzz-like vibration through me. He drew his nose to mine. "You're okay now, right? Nothing else has happened after that one night?"

"Nothing else," I confirmed and pressed a feather-soft kiss against his lips. "How are you so understanding? I expected… I thought you'd be mad."

"Why?"

"Because." I shrugged, embarrassed at having to admit that he could be unpredictable. "I lied, and… it's frustrating not getting to share everything, so it must be double frustrating to be on the other side of it."

"Bella," he said my name just a little impatiently, his eyes flickering from one to the other. "You told me weeks ago you had an NDA. You don't think I've had enough time to come to terms with the fact that you can't tell me about your work? I mean, I didn't expect you to have a stalker, or a bodyguard, but…" Edward squished me tight against him, enveloping my entire body, making me feel warm and protected. "It's okay," he repeated quietly against my skin. His black hood covered half of my face.

"You're too good to me."

"It's just a small indie series. So you can't tell me who you're acting with or what's happening on set. I'm not saying I don't have questions you can't answer but it's not the end of the world."

Sure, sure. A small indie series. Definitely what we're talking about.

"I disagree. I'm… a bit blown away by how understanding you are."

"Bella." Edward said my name in that near-irritated tone again, but then he pulled back his head and sighed. "You're right," he said, voice grave and eyes mockingly serious. "It's a huge sacrifice. Enormous. I think only a thousand kisses will make up for how much I have to put up with."

I delighted in the twinkle in his eyes and tried hard not to laugh. When I failed, I pressed my mouth against the skin between his neck and his scarf and shook with laughter. His hood fell off.

"Sounds like a fair price," I whispered, giddy at how his neck erupted in goosebumps. Feeling bold, I pressed a small kiss against the warm skin behind his ear. He groaned, nudging my temple with his nose before he brushed his soft lips against mine, tilting his head and opening his mouth. It felt ridiculously easy to be in his arms, to talk to him, to kiss him and taste him. I felt on top of the world when he hummed into my mouth. His eyes were glazed-over and tugging at my heart as I pulled back by half an inch.

"A thousand kisses will take a long time to repay," I whispered against his lips.

"I guess you'll have to stick around for a while, then," he replied, matter-of-fact, and I could've vibrated with all that soft, buzzing energy in his eyes.

Listening to the rain tapping against the roof and feeling the occasional drizzle from raindrops hitting the handrail, we sat, stealing kisses and finally drinking some of the warm coffee mom had prepared. Edward added sugar and cream to his, I added cream to mine, and it was a beautifully surreal morning, grim and wet outside of the porch but lit up by our giddy smiles within it, and I could not believe I was the cause of all that tender affection in Edward's eyes.

"What time is it?" I asked, a bit breathless after I'd spent more time tasting the coffee on his lips than actually drinking from my cup.

"6:37." Edward replied, voice a bit gruff but all the more attractive for it. "I know you have to get ready, but… ten more minutes?"

Like I could've said no when he squished me against his side and buried his nose in my hair like nothing had ever felt more natural.

His lips brushed against my temple. "I have a question."

"I have many," I replied, grinning. "But go on."

"When did you change your mind about me?"

Hesitating, I slid my forehead against his cheek, enjoying the warmth and sinking closer into him when he brushed his thumb back and forth on my waist.

Lie. Don't scare the boy. Do not scare the boy.

But I didn't want to lie. I'd done way too much of it lately.

Hopefully my pathetic crush didn't spook him.

"There wasn't… much to change," I replied sheepishly. "I kind of… realized how not fake my crush was during the first proper conversation we had."

"No," he denied, a groan and an exhale. "That can't be true."

"It's true," I confirmed, nuzzling his ticklish hair, but I'd barely gotten the words out before Edward snapped back his head.

"I don't believe you."

"Why not?"

"Because—" Edward put down his cup, adjusted me in his lap and surrounded my waist with both of his hands. His eyes, filled with disbelief, flickered back and forth. "I… am I that bad at reading people? I thought—I thought it was Saturday that changed your mind."

"But everyone knew."

Edward tilted his head on the side, looking like he was struggling not to scoff. "I highly doubt that. I didn't suspect a thing, and what little I heard—I thought everyone else had outdated information since you told me yourself you weren't into me. Not to mention how very supportive you were of me and Lauren," Edward almost spat the name. "More than any of my other friends."

"What do you mean?"

"Bella," he groaned, exasperated. "You were either encouraging me to not be late to meet up with her or making light-hearted jokes about inviting her over to make her jealous. Which part of this should've been the big flashing sign that you were into me?"

I held my lips against the lid of my cup, avoiding his eyes, but when I did look up, I didn't hide my sheepish smile. "I might've… overcompensated."

"You think?" Edward asked, pulling me closer, watching me in disbelief before his eyes widened and lips parted.

"You were—acting, weren't you? And you—you stopped on Saturday?"

I gave Edward a half-smile, half-grimace.

"Maybe," I replied, dragging the 'e' in the end. I hadn't consciously stopped hiding my crush after Saturday, but Edward's behavior around me gave me hope like never before, so it didn't surprise me that I'd made no effort to hide my fluttery heart after Saturday.

Edward squeezed my back, sighing and dropping his forehead to mine. His warm, coffee-scented breath ghosted over my face, and I was still getting used to how breathless his proximity made me feel. He didn't look like he was accusing me of anything but his guarded expression still stopped me from kissing him.

"Do you do that often?" he asked quietly.

"Act outside of set? No. Not at all. It's… it takes a lot of energy to keep that kind of focus, and I wouldn't usually want to bother."

"But why'd you bother this time?"

"You're kidding, right?"

Edward paused. "No."

"Seriously?" I challenged. "This intimidating senior I'd developed a thing for came to tell me I was a pathetic little sophomore who wasn't nearly as pretty or smart as his own crush. Honestly, is there anyone in the world who wouldn't have lied? Obviously, you weren't into me, so… why wouldn't I have kept it up after?"

Edward's alarmed eyes never left mine.

"Fuck, I didn't—there's no way I said that."

"No," I confirmed, calmer. "Not in those words."

"Still, I'm… I'm sorry. I didn't know." He rested his nose on my temple, whispering, "I didn't know, Bella. I'm sorry. And you didn't set my locker on fire after I shot you down?"

"Tempting, but no." I rubbed my cheek against his, adoring his breath so close to mine. "What is it that you didn't know?"

"I didn't know you'd be this—" He shrugged, searching for words, "this, warmth in my day. That I'd look forward to seeing you more than… more than anything. I didn't know girls could just… change you."

His voice got quieter, almost shier, but I still floated away in his compliment. I didn't know I'd had that effect on him.

I snuggled against his cheek and pressed a little kiss against the corner of his mouth, and he let out the tiniest hum that filled my stomach with butterflies.

"When did you change your mind?" I asked, much more curious about his side of things than mine.

Pulling his lower lip in his mouth, Edward hesitated.

"No fair!" I argued. "I told you mine."

Edward touched his nose against the sides of mine, left and right, looking at me with an adorable smile in his eyes before he pecked my lips and smushed his nose against my cheek. I grinned.

"Bella's Gambit," he whispered, like a shameful, happy secret.

My breath caught. "What?"

"Bella's Gambit," he repeated, closing his eyes and brushing his nose ever-so-gently against my cheek. "Your little squiggly victory dance. Your contagious presence. You… in my hoodie, in my jacket. A date with you that wasn't supposed to be a date but was easily the best first date anyone's ever had."

"That was not a date," I corrected, my insides dancing from the low, raw affection in his tone.

Edward smiled against my lips before he stole a kiss and eyed me with half-hooded, simmering eyes that made me want to never leave his lap. "I don't admit it lightly, Bella, having accused you of dating two guys at once. In my defense, I was stupid enough not to realize it at the time, but… that was definitely a date." Edward let out this cheerless half-chuckle. "Fuck, you confused me, though. I got home, practically vibrating with the events of the evening, my head just—just full of you. I didn't know if I'd have a shot with you if I broke up with Lauren, but I—I had to try.

"I felt like shit, though. Am I that flaky? But then, with her, I think I'd convinced myself that I had a thing for her, barely knowing shit about her, whereas with you, it was... I had to convince myself I didn't have a thing for you. Every time we spoke, I got these incredible pieces of you, and you just—" Edward paused, looking for words. "You made me feel like— I didn't know whether to kiss you or vomit from nerves. I never, I never felt that. And I didn't know what you'd think if I pursued you so soon after breaking up with her. What does it say about me that I jump from one girl to another like that?"

Not having an answer to him, and maybe shelving this discussion for later, I shifted. "But you… I thought for sure it was proof of how indifferent you were when you didn't break up with her."

"I'd never dumped anyone," Edward argued. "Do you know how terrifying it is, breaking up with someone you pursued? And who was I supposed to ask advice from, my dad? My aunt, the mother of the year? Fucking Jasper?"

The implications of Edward not having a reliable mother figure in his life had never really occurred to me.

Of course he'd have struggled to break up with a girl. I would've had zero clue how to break up with Peter had we actually started dating, and I definitely would've found someone who'd been through a break-up to advise me.

It still didn't explain what had eventually happened between him and Lauren last Friday morning. I'd asked him three times already, so I bit my tongue, but Edward could tell from my expression that I had the question in mind.

"Not today," he said quietly. "I don't want to ruin this morning."

Unsurprised, I nodded. Besides, I was still in disbelief that he'd liked me since our non-date at Fegatello's Attack.

"But you—you really wanted to date me then?"

Edward's laughter felt hollow. "Did I," he replied, in a 'duh' voice he didn't have to explain. His smile was rueful and full of self-reproach. "And then the day I finally worked myself up to do it, you went and got yourself not one but two dates. What a beautiful day that was. And best of all, I didn't have any right to be upset at you, or them, but the timing just… it sucked. Of course I knew you were on guys' radar, but I hoped you wouldn't notice until I could, you know—" He swallowed, his words quiet, "Be available."

I had so many questions for everything he just said but I held myself back.

"I'm sorry," I replied instead.

"If what you went through for the past two weeks was my past two days, frankly I'm amazed you didn't make me suffer longer. I'm the one who should be sorry, but I just—" He tucked a curl behind my ear, looking at me with the softest eyes before he tilted his head and brushed his lips against mine, one, twice, thrice. Soft and exhilarating. "I didn't know," he whispered. "And… in case I wasn't clear, Bella… I'm not hip and contemporary. I don't want an open anything. It's too—we don't have to label anything, but…" Edward's voice got almost as tender and unguarded as his eyes. "Don't go out with other guys when you're with me."

"Okay," I replied, my voice a bit breathy. "It's a huge sacrifice, though. Enormous," I repeated his words from before. "I believe only teaching me how to ride your bike will make up for it."

Edward laughed. "Fuck I'd love to."

Coffee forgotten, we kissed for a few weightless minutes before a knock interrupted us. Mom peeked out. Edward looked like he'd been caught with his hand in a cookie jar, but my mother must've wanted a nomination for the best mom of the universe because she made no sign of anything being out of the ordinary. No teasing remark, no arch of eyebrow, no smirk.

"Guys it is miserable out here," mom said with an impressive poker face. "Please come in for breakfast."

I nuzzled Edward's tickly buzz cut before I got off of his lap. Edward, too, stood up, covering his head with his hood and zipping up his jacket, eyes never leaving mine.

"I should take off anyway," he said quietly.

I took Edward's hand, feeling a bit shy because I wasn't quite used to holding a boy's hand. Mom gathered Edward's schoolbag and his helmet, taking both inside and holding them hostage.

Goddamn, I had to find something incredible for mom's next birthday.

"Nonsense," mom said. "C'mon. I made two omelets and it's not getting any drier out here."

My genius of a mom walked inside with Edward's backpack and helmet, not really leaving him with a choice, but I still turned to him, wishing he'd have breakfast with me but not wanting to pressure him.

"You don't have to stay," I said, balancing myself on his arm when I tip-toed to kiss the corner of his lips. "But I'd love it if you did."

Edward pulled his lower lip in his mouth.

"Okay."

I was bursting with giddiness when we slipped off our shoes and jackets and discovered that mom had set the coffee table for us with a breakfast fit for kings. Edward sat on the couch. Mom rushed from the kitchen with a plateful of bacon. "I wasn't sure if we'd bored you with bánh mì the other day, so I have bacon and eggs, and—lots of toast."

Edward looked a bit nervous and rigid, sitting with both feet on the carpet, fingers intertwined in his lap, looking overwhelmed but happy. "It looks amazing. You didn't have to, Mrs. Swan."

"Oh, nonsense. A boy who takes off his shoes? Just let me know if you need anything."

"Mom," I called after her, knowing that Edward probably only took off his shoes because he was following my lead, but I was glad it gained points for him in her eyes. Mom turned.

"Cảm ơn." (Thank you.)

She smiled softly, returning a single nod, and I knew then that it might've not been just my biological father who'd given me the acting gene.

Feeling Edward's eyes on us, I continued in Vietnamese, "Can you tell dad that if he says anything at all, he can go and—" I crossed my index fingers.

Mom's eyes glinted in amusement, but once again, she only nodded.

"Do you want us to take the heat off of Emmett?" she continued in English. "He'll be here in half an hour."

A year ago, I would've said yes. Hell, even a month ago, I would've wanted her to help me.

But I made this decision, and I stood by it, no matter how intimidating that felt or how mad Emmett was going to be.

"I think it's better if I handle it."

Mom scrunched up her nose in a way that made me feel like she was proud of me before she shot us a smile and left.

Edward raised his eyebrow, watching me stand in front of him in my ridiculous ski pants and purple pony pajama top. "Why did you just tell your mom to—" He crossed his fingers, clearly not comfortable cursing around my parents. "After she did all this?" He motioned at the royal breakfast in front of him.

"No!" I grinned, having forgotten that Edward knew a part of our secret language. "It was… about my dad," I explained without actually explaining. "I'll just change and be right back, okay?"

I slipped into my bedroom, finding mom's high-waist maroon cargo pants with side pockets, wide and comfy, combining it with a tight cream sweater, cropped just so that a sliver of skin appeared when I raised my arms. Not wanting to spend unnecessary time on my hair, I only redid my messy pony-tail. I put a dark red, near-purple tinted lip balm on my lips.

My heart was beating in my throat when I returned to the living room. Edward sat perfectly still, not having touched breakfast, and his gaze sent a wave of goosebumps all over my body as I curled my legs under myself next to him, just out of his reach. I wanted to sit in his lap, but not only did it feel strange to do that so close to my parents, I also wasn't quite used to being so casual touching him. Our snuggly morning on the porch felt otherworldly with the dark, rainy weather outside, and yet here he was, sitting on our couch, all broad-shouldered and lean and inhumanly attractive in his black hoodie and jeans.

Edward put his arm on the back of the couch, grazing his knuckles against my neck and sending an avalanche of goosebumps down my spine. Scooting closer, I made the bold move of letting my knees fall on Edward's thighs, but the secret, happy smile he awarded me with was worth it.

"You didn't eat yet?" I asked.

"I was waiting for you."

It was a hilarious statement because I was still deciding on what to put on my toast when, not even five minutes later, Edward had gulped down six pieces of toast with bacon as well as his omelet (and half of mine). He had just fit one whole third of a bánh mì in his mouth when I stared at what a sight he made.

"You know, if you were a girl—or gay—that would be incredibly impressive."

Edward choked. Tears formed in his eyes as he coughed, and I felt bad for not considering that he was eating until he finally managed to chew and swallow his food and gasped for breath against my hair, laughing. "You should not be allowed to talk when I'm eating."

"Sorry," I replied, smiling too wide to look sheepish but still rubbing circles against his back.

Edward got the most beautiful glint in his eyes and stole a shy, brief kiss from me, probably all too aware of my mom just behind the half-wall in the kitchen. I felt all giggly inside when I caught him watching me as I ate (since I actually chewed my food like a human who developed teeth for a purpose).

Edward began playing with the pink thread tied three times around my right wrist.

"I've never noticed this before," he said softly.

"I made it yesterday." I put down my empty plate, turning and falling just a little bit against his side. "My mom's grandfather belonged to an ethnic group, the Giáy, from a northern province in Vietnam called Cao Bằng. Mom always said that they made the most gorgeous threads packed with meaning, and my great-grandfather was a total savant at making them. I know nothing about that, obviously, having never met him or been there, but I like braiding threads, and I… I couldn't sleep last night. So I made some. When I was little, my mom, I think nostalgic for her own childhood, made me give them meanings, so… yeah. I made a few."

I reached for the little entangled pile on the lower shelf of the coffee table and piled them on the side of my thigh. Still touching the thread around my wrist, Edward leaned closer to my face. "So what does this one mean?"

"It's stupid," I backtracked, already regretting telling him. "They're not real. I assign the meanings myself, which makes them fake."

"By that definition, every item anyone's ever found significant—that significance wouldn't be real."

"But I mean, it isn't real. It's in your head."

"But, love is also in your head." Edward's eyes were bright and voice rough. "Does that make it not real?"

My heartbeat picked up the raw affection in his argument. Our first morning together was much too early for his words to mean anything, but I still felt alight enough to barely keep myself from straddling his lap.

Edward's eyes darkened, lingering on my lips, but he cleared his throat and averted his eyes.

"So what's this one?" He slid his fingers along the thread around my wrist.

"It's… I wanted it to help me make you listen me out."

Edward paused, wrapping his fingers around my wrist and nudging me to face him. Leaning his forehead against my temple and surrounding my knees with his arm, he asked, "Not to make me be with you?"

"No," I whispered back, half-dizzy with his proximity. "I don't like wishing results on them. It's not voodoo magic, and I know it doesn't mean anything, but if you wanted to be with me… I'd like it to be because you wanted to, not because of some stupid thread."

Edward's palm snuck around my neck as he pressed his open mouth against mine, fervently, exhaling against my skin and molding his warm lips against mine for three toe-curling, soundless seconds. When he stopped, his eyes quickly flickered behind me, but, finding the room still empty, he smiled against my cheek. "Sorry," he muttered, a bit breathless, his cold piercing touching my eyebrow.

"Are you?"

"No. Not really." Edward grinned, nuzzling my cheek. "Tell me about the other threads."

"It's silly. They're stupid. You'll make fun of me."

"I like them," he replied simply. "Tell me."

I untangled the four threads, all in different combinations of pink, purple and white because I ran out of black and dad stole the only black one for himself late last night. Luckily, that had been the one I made for a seamless move to our new place or I would've struggled to explain it. To Edward's credit, he didn't laugh at me when I listed all the childish meanings of my threads, and he quietly squished me against him when I showed him the mostly-white-with-some-pink thread I'd made for his nephew and aunt to… be okay.

"Can I have this one?" He pressed his cheek against mine, voice full of awe that I'd made one for them. "Or do I have to earn it?"

"You can have them all," I replied, my head full of his scent.

"I want that one."

I folded it and put it in his palm.

"And the last one?"

Hesitating, I ran my index finger over the bright purple and pink thread, unable to explain it. I wanted to experience all my firsts before shit hit the fan, but not only was I unable to tell him that there was, in fact, a pile of shit and a fan to hit, I also didn't want to admit that I kind of hoped… it would be him.

I hid my face against his shoulder. "I don't want to tell you."

Assessing my expression, Edward slid the thread out of my palm. His voice was quiet. "Can I have this one, too?"

"Why?"

"It must be really good if you refuse to tell me."

"But it's pink and purple and… I'm sorry."

"I love pink. Pink is the best."

"People might tease you."

"I'd like to see them try."

Edward's gaze made me feel all warm and tingly as I tied both threads around his left wrist, four times over. When I was done, he intertwined our fingers. It lit my heart on fire to see the pink and purple braids, side-by-side, contrasting against our skin.

"I love them. Thank you." Edward smiled against my temple. "Sorry for being greedy and taking two."

I couldn't possibly express how much it meant to me that he wanted my silly threads around his wrist, so I turned my head and kissed him. "Jasper's going to have a field day today."

"He would," Edward replied, eyes twinkling. "If I told him. But I'm not going to say a word after he fucked with my bike on Saturday. It'll drive him mad not to be in the loop but he deserves it."

"He messed with your bike?"

Edward opened his mouth to answer when my dad, wearing nothing but ratty old pajama pants, stumbled into the living room, squinting at the light. He was hairy but fit, and it was hilarious to see his eyes widen.

"Morning," he said, voice rough with sleep, scratching his beard, a beginning of a smirk forming as he saw me snuggled up against Edward. "Came to see why the light's on but I forgot we had a guest." His smirk widened but he had no opportunity to tease me before mom rushed into the hallway and dragged dad into the kitchen.

"I need you."

"But I—"

Their quiet words became incomprehensible behind the half-wall, and I'd barely decided that mom was going to get whichever fancy designer item caught her eye for her birthday when she yelled, "Sweetie, Emmett's here!"

My stomach twisted.

"Thank you!"

I fought against the urge to hide myself in Edward's hoodie, but I didn't move away, either. Emmett must've seen Edward's bike in the driveway, so at least it wouldn't be a total surprise for him to see Edward here, but I hoped he wouldn't be too angry at me.

Edward, feeling me tense beside him, squeezed my hand.

"Do you want me to pretend I don't know he's your bodyguard?"

"No. It's fine if he's angry but, whatever his feelings, he'd be stupid not to understand that you'll be an asset for us."

Emmett was a frequent enough visitor in our place that he had the key to our house (also for security if something happened). He shut the door and (presumably) took off his coat and shoes. I held my breath, listening to his footsteps before he rounded the corner. His jaw was set. He locked eyes with me, disappointed and definitely miffed, but instead of saying anything, his head moved sharply and repeatedly towards his shoulder, like a tic.

It was not the first time I'd wondered if he had Tourette's but I'd never dared to ask.

"Emmett…" I said, preparing to apologize.

Still fighting with his tic, he shut his eyes and let out a long, interrupted breath. "I'll get a cup of coffee and—be, be with you both in two minutes."

When he returned, the tic was gone, but he did not smile as he sat in an armchair next to us, elbows on his knees, assessing us. I was a bit scared of an explosion but I waited for him to break the silence.

"I take it he knows?" he asked, surprisingly calm.

"Yes."

"How much?"

"I told him about the possible stalker."

"Good." He pressed his lips together and took a sip of his coffee. "I'm not thrilled with the complications that you dating someone will bring, but I'd much rather you were open with me. Before we continue, I have to ask—" Emmett turned to Edward, his dark brown eyes evaluating him. "Are you her stalker?"

"Oh my God, Emmett! You can't just ask him that."

"I can and I will." Emmett narrowed his eyes at Edward. "You're the most obvious choice. So?"

"I am not," Edward replied, voice level and eyes never leaving his.

Emmett weighed Edward's answer.

"Good. It is, of course, possible that you're lying but you don't strike me as a very experienced liar." Emmett drank his coffee. "So here's what's going to happen. First, I need your phone number."

Edward, unfazed, recited his number and added Emmett in his contact list after Emmett gave him an unanswered call. Emmett wrote down his address, and he didn't react to the fact that Edward lived in a trailer park.

Underneath his abrupt manners, Emmett was a good guy, and my stomach began to untwist as I saw more concern than anger in his eyes.

"I've been a teenager once—I'm sure you'll sneak out constantly to spend time alone." The corner of Emmett's mouth twitched when Edward shifted beside me. "Not my job to stop you from doing that. Now, what is my job is to make sure that the girl you're dating is safe and unharmed. Unless you want me to accompany you to every single date you go on, I need you to always inform me of your location and any changes to it."

"Emmett—"

Emmett locked eyes with me but shrugged.

"Annoying? Yes. Necessary? Also yes. Take it up with your parents if you have an issue with it. I have no interest in what you're doing as long as you make sure that at least one sober adult knows of your location, which of course can be me." Emmett pointed at Edward, eyes grave. "If you think you're being followed or photographed, do not engage with the person. Do not follow them, do not attack them, do not talk to them. Don't be a hero and get yourself into a fight, okay? We don't presume him—presumably a man according to Bella's description—to have malicious intent beyond taking photos of Bella but we cannot be sure. If you suspect anything, come straight to me. I'll text you my home and company address. But do keep an eye out for the man's appearance, his car, its license plate or anything else that might help us identify him."

Frowning, Edward chewed on his bottom lip and nodded.

"Good," Emmett said. "Now, if you find yourself in a situation where Bella disappears when you're with her or is forcibly kidnapped in front of you, what do you do?"

Edward squeezed my hand so hard I was worried he'd break my bones. "Call the cops."

"Very good. And next?"

"Call you. Bella's parents. Anyone else?"

Emmett gave Edward a kind of side nod, clearly in respect, before his mouth twitched. "I'm not going to check up on you but if I see evidence that you've betrayed my trust, remember that I can follow you everywhere. I will breathe down your neck so close your pillow will smell more like me than your girlfriend. Am I clear?"

Emmett's delivery was no-nonsense, his eyes serious, and yet, both Edward and I struggled to hide our amused, horrified faces. Edward shifted, squeezing me closer to his body.

"Crystal."

"So I can trust you?"

Edward nodded. "Yes, sir."

Emmett hid his smile in his mug and locked eyes with me. "A quick study and a miserable liar. Not a bad choice, all things considered. Glad you confirmed we're not dealing with a shithead."

Emmett shut his eyes, taking a sip of his coffee just as Edward questioned me with his gaze, but thankfully, the question that left Edward's lips changed the topic.

"How old are you, really?" Edward asked, assessing the black mountain of a man. "Sir," he finished quickly, correcting himself.

"My size didn't give me away?"

"You'd think, but… back when I went to Elkin's Pointe, one of my classmates had brother, a senior in Roswell High School, and—he was your size. Everyone thought he was on steroids but, the entire family was enormous. Bulked up just looking at a chicken breast."

"I know the type," Emmett replied surprisingly gently. "Had a schoolmate like that. It's rare but it does happen. I was a bit of a late bloomer myself."

Edward arched an eyebrow.

"I'm twenty seven. Yes, I am aware that my face doesn't look it. Just like Bella's mother has looked twenty since she was fifteen, I've had the face of a fifteen-year-old since I was fifteen. Confused everyone when I first worked as a bouncer at the beginning of my career."

I felt like an anvil had been lifted off my chest when it became clear that Emmett didn't hold anything against us, and I stifled my smile when Emmett stretched his palm and rubbed it against his thigh after the two shook hands.

Mom, after finding out that Edward forgot to pack his lunch, gave him a banana, two bánh mìs, four protein bars and a juice, and made a mean mom face when Edward attempted to refuse her.

God, I loved my mom.

It was no longer pouring when we left, but the drizzle still hit our faces after we climbed downstairs. Emmett and mom stepped into his truck while I stopped by Edward's bike. Self-conscious of the eyes on us, I turned Edward so that his body was between me and Emmett's truck. Drizzle caught in Edward's buzz cut, making it glisten, but nothing shined quite as brightly as our silly smiles. Almost shyly, Edward took hold of my neck and brushed his warm lips against mine, soft but demanding and filled with affection, sending the most giggly swarm of butterflies through me. His tender green eyes still lingered on my lips when he pulled back. I felt weightless in disbelief that the morning had been real and all my immediate worries had been resolved. I still had a thousand questions to Edward, but hopefully we'd have time.

"Emmett didn't scare you away, did he?"

He'd been such a champ through Emmett's questioning, and his loyalty and kindness was written all over his face. I'd wanted to thank him for taking it all in stride but never really got the chance.

Edward, forehead against mine, smiled as he whispered, "Not a chance." A moment later, he crushed me in a hug and pressed his lips against my hair. "You don't know how much I wish I could take you to school with me today."

"I think I do," I whispered back, alight and giddy in his arms. "If only to see you torture Jasper."

Behind us, I could hear the truck window scroll down before Emmett yelled, "She's not going to war, boy! You can let her go now!"

Edward shook with laughter against me before he did, finally, pull back. He kissed me. "Go before I kidnap you."

I touched his nose with mine. "I don't think I'm opposed to that."

Emmett groaned in a way that let us know that his patience was wearing thin, and we tore ourselves away from each other with promises to talk in the evening.

Even the gray sky and endless drizzle didn't wipe off the beaming smile I wore on our way to Alec's Studio. I found Mike lying on the black leather couch in the Control Room, scrolling on his phone and looking tanner than usual in white jeans and some designer jacket. Sighing, he put his feet back on the ground and lifted his head to greet me before he did a double take and put down his phone.

"Hot damn, what happened to you?"

"Nothing," I replied, knowing my grin could've spread from Seattle to NYC. Mom sat in a nearby armchair, opened her laptop and put earbuds in her ears to work.

"Does the boy in question know you call him nothing?" Mike questioned, smirking. "Damn, I go to LA for a week and you go fall in love. I thought I had mind-blowing news but this is better."

"I'm not—I didn't—I…" I stopped talking, knowing it would've freaked Edward the fuck out if I attempted to put a name to how giggly he made me.

Because we were on the path to real friendship, Mike teased me, but he didn't have Jasper's gossiping energy and it was easy to divert his attention to his week-long vacation in LA with his girlfriend. We spoke about how close my sides had taken the media to sniffing him out, but having convinced a few internet corners that Mike was Mathys didn't count for much when other internet corners were equally convinced that Mathys was clearly Dylan Minnette or Tom Holland.

Waiting for the Sound Assistant Kadie Jalloh and my tutor Mrs. Haisley, I remembered his greeting.

"What was your news?" I asked, sliding off my shoes and crossing my legs underneath myself.

"Oh shit, yes," Mike put down his phone again. "Guess who's joining you for a chemistry read in a few weeks for Nala's father for the second season. Think big."

"Morgan Freeman," I deadpanned, too happy not to mess with Mike.

He laughed. "They'd have a hell of a time explaining why Nala's father's in his eighties. Try again, Miss Blanc."

"Samuel L. Jackson."

Mike stifled his smile. "Would love to meet him. Doesn't look a thing like you, though. Think younger. Who's the legend everyone's been buzzing about?" An ice-cold stone settled in my ribcage while Mike, hands flailing excitedly, continued, "C'mon, now. He's from that tribe that speaks with cool clicks, knows Tanya, also fantastically talented with sound work and won a Golden Globe with Scorsese last year for that unpronounceable movie—"

"Ignominious," I whispered, heartbeat in my ears. Mom stopped tapping on the keyboard. She didn't look up, but her attention was unquestionable.

Thankfully, Mike wasn't paying attention to her.

"That's the one!" he exclaimed. "Goddamn I'm jealous you'll get to work with him. Multiple episodes, too. I'd kill to have a chemistry read with Garrett Kamwanga."

…