A Constant in The Darkness

Chapter Eleven - Young Love was Kissing Under Bridges

Darlings and new Lovelies,

It's been awhile since our last chat and for that I'm deeply regretful...

I'd like to welcome all the new lovelies to our little soiree we have going on here, enjoy the tasty treats!

I appreciate all you readers so much and those ladies that incessantly praise this story, I just want to hug and kiss you under a bridge in France on Main Street. In other words, I'm very grateful...

Speaking of grateful, dear beta, n7of9, I think I owe you homemade chocolate cake everyday for the rest of your life for the amount of energy you contribute to this story. I sat here for like twenty minutes trying to think of something clever to say...Thank you my love, will have to suffice...

BPOV:

"And you're a Virgo with a Virgo rising and a Virgo moon, which means that your Virgo traits are, like, insane. It says that you have a methodical mind and examine the details of a situation." Alice was reading from her notebook again, a pen poised between her lips. She had my whole fucking life story laid out in that damn notebook. "She's gotten to the Zodiac and Zen…" Joni's words hummed in my brain and made me smile.

Alice had already told me that I have innate skills of manipulation, that I could be boring because I stick to the 'rules', and that I thrive in a stable environment. I scoffed at this, I didn't really know if it would be true because I'd never actually been in a stable environment.

Alice's big purple Astrology book lay open on my bed, her notes and papers scattered across my comforter. Apparently, she'd also cosmically critiqued Edward, explaining that he was a Gemini and that his Moon was in my Venus, or something like that. I didn't have the heart to tell her that his Moon wasn't nearly as close to my Venus as I would have liked. I couldn't really concentrate on her ramblings though, I was nervous enough as it was - Edward would be here in two hours for our date.

It was Saturday and Alice had been here since two. She had brought over a huge duffle bag containing the necessary ingredients for Operation Make Bella Pretty, and now we only had two hours left, two hours to get beautiful. Considering it hadn't happened in the last seventeen years I doubted it would happen now. Alice was planning on preparing my face with an onslaught of cosmetics she was currently arranging on my dresser - small containers of shimmering gold and brown powders, the translucent shades glittering in the dull light of my bedroom; several bottles of liquids in numerous flesh tones and pink pastels; smudged pencils, the tips black and dull from use; black and blue tubes; and some awful looking pinching contraption that could only be a device for torture, all laid out like surgical tools.

"We're just going to keep things natural," she said after she put the notebook down and continued with her impossible mission. Alice had been trying to relay to me the enlightening information she had discovered in her astrological quest for world domination by memory but had wound up running back to her notebook, like, five times already.

"I need all this shit to make me look natural? Fuck, I'd hate to see what I'd need to make me look somewhat attractive." I sighed at the thought of my face all painted up. It was a futile task, beauty, and it only made me feel more defeated to try.

It had been five days since Edward had asked me out on a date, like a real date. I had never been on a real date actually. All three of my almost boyfriends had just been guys that I hung out with, you know, messed around with from time to time. Not one of them had actually asked me out on a date, like a come-in-and-meet-your-parents kind of date, so I was ridiculously excited that Edward had.

We had spent almost every evening together this week. Edward would show up at my front door after Charlie had gone to sleep and I would lead him to my room. Sometimes he would take me onto the roof, wrapping me in my comforter like that first night and we would just talk, just fucking talk for hours about all kinds of shit. Sometimes it was deep and meaningful, taking on the issues that are quick to be debated. Sometimes it was silly, like his favorite T.V. shows from when he was a kid or my top five favorite songs of all time which, to no surprise of mine, all include the phrase 'by Joni Mitchell'.

Sometimes we would make out on my bed, just exploring every inch of our newfound fascination with each other. I loved his hands on me, they way they felt me up every time like they'd never felt me before, the way Edward seemed to be unable to control the urge to feel my skin and to kiss my lips or play with my hair. It just felt good…much better than I thought I could feel. It was like he knew what I was thinking, knew what I wanted, and anticipated my every craving.

Then there was the way he made me feel, and the emotions meandering through my cerebellum. What I found in his star-dappled green eyes, the raw power of what we were both feeling, initially tainted my elation with anxiety. I didn't want to lose that, ever, not even for one quick second, so I soaked it up insatiably when I was with him, pouring it into my soul and allowing it to sift with my very elemental basis.

I had thought school would be much more awkward than it was turning out to be. With Alice now knowing about my eating habits, I hovered between relief and worry with my exposure an ever-present possibility.

I was relieved because now I had an ally. Alice wasn't someone who was going to lecture me about what purging was doing to my body, she knew I was already aware of that shit. She was just there, a reminder that my actions may indirectly affect others. I had always been under the impression that by abstaining and purging I had only been destroying myself. I found value in that fact, that at least it was something in which only I suffered from.

Alice had gone and fucking shot that theory all to hell the day she refused to leave the school day-smoking restroom. I just couldn't do it in front of her and she knew that. On those days we'd just smoke our cigarettes and Alice would talk about how she was getting tired of hiding Jasper, and I would talk about how I was tired of hiding my eating issues, all the while both of us hiding in that fucking restroom.

This put me in an interesting predicament because I couldn't refrain from enjoying Edward's lunches, the ambrosial aromas were just too much for me to bear, but I couldn't always allow the weight to settle in my body, the compulsion to purge still too heavy to stifle completely. I had only puked twice this week at school, both times Alice had been covertly spending her lunch period with Jasper, and I felt guilty as shit going to that restroom without her. Both times I had gone back to Edward just wanting to confess everything to him, to let it all out and be free of this shit. I had chickened out, of course, one look into his deep receiving eyes and I just couldn't fucking do it. But I was exceedingly worried that Edward was going to find out without me getting the chance to explain myself. I knew there really wasn't an excuse for what I was doing, and for what I was willing to let it do to Edward. He was a part of this now and I was keeping him in the dark, showing him the sugarcoated version of myself. It was so fucking cowardly that I couldn't own up to this, but I couldn't let go of it either, my body still getting used to this new habit. This connection with Edward had me completely entrenched in finding a new source of self-worth by allowing myself to be nurtured, but it was going to be a slow process.

I had warned Charlie that Edward was going to be coming to the house and was going to take me on a date. Charlie was…interested, I guess that would be an appropriate description. He grunted a couple words, wanted to know when and where we were going and then he asked me something I wasn't expecting - he wanted to know if Edward was my boyfriend. Like, he asked in those exact words, 'Is Edward your boyfriend?' It took me a moment to respond, anxiety engaging my awareness and sending tiny flutters to my stomach. Was Edward my boyfriend? It certainly seemed that way. He walked me to class in the morning and made me lunch every day, he practically pulled me into his lap in Biology and we spent the late nights consumed with each other.

Despite all the evidence that whispered 'Yes', I honestly didn't know. I was reluctant to slap a label on what I was experiencing with Edward, afraid to enclose our relationship within one little petty word, but the label brought understanding. One word I could offer to Charlie, or Renee if she ever called again, to explain that Edward and I were attached. At any rate, nothing had been declared or decided so I just ignored Charlie's question, pretty sure that he would do the same, and was relieved when he didn't bring it up again. But I didn't forget.

Alice yanked a brush through my chaotic hair, the tangles causing my head to lurch and yank back. Alice was intent on giving me smooth hair yet despite her every advance - blow dryer, styling cream, straightening iron - the high humidity of the atmosphere damned her attempts straight to hell. She finally settled on untangled as a goal. She handed me the olive gauze skirt that was "to be Edward's demise", as she had put it, and a black wrap top, completing the ensemble with black ballet flats. I had to admit that I liked the way it looked, the skirt swirling around my legs and swishing when I moved. I felt graceful for maybe the first time in my life, poised and figured, the skirt ballooning from my hips and making them look a little wider than they really were.

I sat on my bed as Alice decorated my face, choosing her tools wisely, a seriously pensive purse in her lips and her eyebrows creased in concentration. She was wearing a black headband slicking her hair back and showing off her celestial features. I couldn't help but stare at her as she focused on the task at hand, her green eyes reminding me of that picture hanging in the Cullens' hallway.

I still didn't know what had happened to Edward and Alice's parents. I knew they were dead and I knew that there may have been some sort of scandal involved, but other than that I was just as ignorant as Jessica Stanley and her band of miscreants. I tried to remember that I too lived in a world of secrets and that they would divulge this information when they saw fit, but I couldn't help but dwell on deciding whose silence stung the most, Edward's or Alice's.

"Alice?" I began, but then stopped. My curiosity was gnawing at my resolve. I could ask her and I think she would tell me, because she always did, but I didn't know if this was how I wanted this information exposed to me. Truthfully, I wanted Edward to willingly offer me this piece of his past, the detail probably a very important part of his being.

"Um, where did you learn all this makeup stuff anyways?" I lamely asked instead of the pressing inquiry that was really plaguing me. I thought for sure Alice would have noticed my hesitancy but she just launched into some detailed explanation of her favorite magazines and websites and I half-ass listened, further perturbed that Edward hadn't given this part of himself to me. Again, I was the hypocrite, wanting the revelation when really I didn't deserve it.

"Well, if I may say so myself, and of course I may, you look lovely, my dear." Alice began cleaning up her myriad of makeup, shaking off any residual dust. "Jasper is picking me up in like five minutes."

"What? How did he get his license back?" I asked, thinking that he still had at least a couple more months of probation.

"Oh, well he didn't exactly get his license back," Alice shrugged. "But I needed a ride so he said he'd come pick me up. I wonder whose car he'll be driving? I doubt Rose will let him use her BMW."

"I doubt Rose would do anything that would be considered helpful," I muttered, remembering the awkward lunches I had spent in her presence this week. She hadn't said but two words to me all week, the silent treatment her new preferred method of inflicting humiliation and detest.

"Oh, she's not so bad once you get to know her. She just doesn't like change. It's scary to her, trying to deal with someone she can't control." Alice sticking up for Rosalie was slightly irritating, but I pushed that aside, focusing instead on the fact that Edward would be meeting my father in merely twenty minutes. Sure, Edward technically already knew Charlie, but he didn't know him as my 'father' and the distinction kind of made a difference. It was another small offering I could give to Charlie, introducing him to a boy who's taking me on a date. It was almost like we were pretending to be family.

I walked Alice out to meet Jasper who, surprisingly, did pull up in Rosalie's red BMW, most likely borrowed without consent. He grinned slyly at me from the driver's seat, a lit cigarette between his lips, the smoke swirling around his face. He gave a slight wave as Alice gave me a hug and whispered "Good luck" before running to the car and sliding into the passenger seat. Jasper flicked his spent cigarette out the window and leaned over to kiss his lady before pulling away from the curb.

Fifteen minutes now. I took a deep breath and walked back into the house. I guess I could go make an attempt to talk to Charlie for fifteen minutes. Charlie was in his new spot on the couch wrapped in that afghan, watching T.V. I wandered casually into the living room and Charlie turned to take in my appearance. He stared at me a few moments before grunting and turning back the television.

"What?" I asked. I was no longer controlling the impulse to voice my opinion, not since my initial outburst last Saturday. I said what I wanted now, hoping this would spur Charlie into some kind of verbal exchange. Plus, if I was going to be here for any length of time, there was no way I was going to be able to repress that part of my personality for long.

Charlie sighed, still a bit surprised by my impetuous responses. "Nothing, you just look too… nice," he grumbled. I suppose this was a compliment.

"Thanks. Alice did it," I explained, smoothing the skirt and suddenly feeling super self-conscious and wishing I had just opted for the jeans and t-shirt.

"No. I don't think she did." Charlie kept his gaze fixed on the television and it took me a moment to realize what he meant. I didn't really know how to respond.

"Thanks," I said quietly, unable to think of anything meaningful to say.

Charlie shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. I shuffled my feet, swaying from side to side to feel the skirt swish around my legs, looking everywhere but at Charlie. It was the most awkward sixty seconds of my life.

"So, there's some vegetable soup in the fridge if you're hungry, or some chicken and rice," I mentioned, sitting in one of the chairs under the window. I'd been trying to keep some already made meals in the fridge for Charlie, knowing that nutrition was kind of important for his recovery. I would make a meal from the list Carlisle had given me and freeze half of it, leaving the other half in the fridge in case Charlie wanted it.

"Billy said he's bringing me something," Charlie scowled. He hated Billy's cooking.

"Okay." More awkward silence. Shit, when was this going to get easier?

We sat in silence for the next ten minutes. At five till, I glanced out the window and saw Edward parking his car on the street. Early, he was fucking early. I ran to the door, probably a bit too enthusiastically, to greet him without watching and critiquing eyes.

When I opened the door Edward had been about to knock, surprise etched across his beautiful face, and I couldn't help but smile a big-ass dopey grin at his bewilderment. He was wearing these gray jeans and a white t-shirt, the material clinging to his angular frame beneath his flannel shirt. Flannel fucking kills me, the softly woven blends of blacks and whites just begged for caressing. I wanted to inhale him, natural and fibrous, bringing him in through my senses, infused with just another way to absorb him.

I slipped my hands up around his neck, striving to bring him closer as I brought his fleshy lips to mine, breathing him in and tasting his warm honey essence. I pulled away, licking my lips and relishing in his nectarous flavor. It was perplexing how this boy could actually taste good, intoxicating really, like the most delicious meal or a most satisfying dessert. Maybe it was because of his affinity for cooking, but I swear, whenever I tasted Edward I felt curiously and most comfortably filled.

"Hey," I said, the taste lingering.

"Hi," he replied, pulling out a small bundle of the most visually appealing flowers I'd ever seen. I didn't recognize any of them but the contrasting buttery orange, deep azure, and striking white reflected and coalesced, the fragrant bundle bringing tears to the brim and causing my chest to constrict. I didn't think I could speak without sending the salty fluid sprawling down my cheeks, so I barely whispered 'Thank you', unable to hide my delight, I'm sure. Shit, I am such a girl, tearing up over fucking flowers.

Gathering my emotions and trying to alter my mental state, I fixated on the reason I had met him on the porch in the first place.

"Okay, so Charlie's really bummed he has to eat Billy's food tonight, so please, please, don't take offense to anything he says or does." I was pathetically pleading, knowing Edward was inclined to overreact and really not wanting Charlie's bad attitude fucking this up for him.

And I had to warn him just in case Charlie asked the boyfriend question. That was the reasoning I was using to rationalize my deplorable prying. I really just wanted to know what Edward was thinking about us, about our relationship, about me, if he was thinking about me at all. It was horribly conniving, I know, and I felt like shit for doing it, but my own self-serving curiosity won over my conscience.

Hesitant in what I was I was going to ask, I struggled to articulate, "And, um, he's going to want to know…like, what you are…to me." Shit, shit, shit! I should have just put it in a note, Do you like me? Circle yes or no...

I waited, apprehension caught in my throat, anticipating his response now that the words were hanging out there and just vibrating in my own ears.

"Well, what am I…to you?" Edward asked. He was going to put this on me. This boy was going to make me declare myself before responding, feeling out the situation before he made himself emotionally vulnerable. Fuck, why didn't I think of that?

I didn't know what to do, my head shouting retreat, my heart propelling me forward. Maybe it was because I had just almost cried or because I was wearing a pretty skirt, but my romantic side won over practicality.

"You're kind of like…everything to me." There it was. And it was true too. In two weeks my whole existence had shifted to orbit around this one intriguing creature.

"I know, me too, Bella. I mean, I feel the same." The stress in my chest eased with this information, a bit of resonance now lingering in the atmosphere. I had to admit, I wasn't horribly surprised, seeing as how I didn't think Edward would spend so much time with someone he didn't at least like a little bit. However, the testimony was bittersweet, adding clout to my fear that when Edward found out what I really was the intensity of his discord would make the betrayal that much more unforgivable.

I had to tell him. Soon.

Edward continued, "But maybe we'll stick to traditional boyfriend and girlfriend labels, for Charlie's sake." He pulled me close to kiss my forehead and I understood his judgment. I don't think people would understand our connection. I mean, shit, I didn't understand it and I was fully immersed in this enigmatic conjuncture of souls.

My anxiety abated by Edward's admission, I ushered him into the house to "meet" Charlie, placing the flowers on the table in the foyer, intent on hanging them to dry later before they crumbled into a mess. I was about to introduce Edward to Charlie as my boyfriend and I had to admit, I was suffering from equal parts dread and elation at the thought of this.

"Dad, um, this is Edward…my boyfriend." I smiled at Edward, knowing that this word didn't begin to describe what he was to me. Charlie stood up and held his hand out to Edward without a word. He was playing the bad cop tonight. Edward took his hand, kind of smirking at the formality.

They just stood there holding hands for what seemed like forever. The silence was killing me, and I almost said something on many occasions, but I couldn't bring myself to be the one to fill the conversational void. Charlie was blank, I couldn't read him. And Edward…Edward was assessing, judging the silence, appraising Charlie's lack of facial expression, evaluating the conditions my father was living in. He finally pulled his hand from my father's, Charlie sitting and focusing once again on his preferred medium for entertainment. I couldn't stand it in this room anymore.

"Okay, we're going to go. I'll be home soon, not too late." I escaped the room, getting my coat from the foyer. I thought Edward would follow me but he didn't and I couldn't bring myself to go back into that tension thickened room. Blood was rushing to my cheeks and I felt that familiar heat burning in my skin. Yanking the front door open and flooded with cool, I quickly filled my lungs with the crisp air, the spruce outside my window sending coniferous wafts of spiraling evergreen, the woodsy scent of mineral constituents placating my nerves.

I remembered then that Edward had asked to drive my truck and I realized that I didn't even know where the hell we were going. I glanced in the back of the truck and saw blankets and a large plastic bag - late night picnic, nice!

I was surprised as shit when Edward pulled into the drive-in, noticing the two movies playing were some horror flick and a romantic comedy, both equally dreadful. We had settled into a nice conversation and I was feeling very cozy until Edward busted out a bag of peppermint patties. He threw the bag into my hands and I just stared at the silver and blue wrapping, the shiny foil disdainfully inviting.

"They're chocolate and peppermint, because you like mints so much," Edward said uneasily. Fuck, he was getting closer, connecting the details and drawing his conclusions without even really realizing it. The thought was stifling, shuddering me into time-induced worry. I had to offer this information before he figured it out, before he heard it from Alice or worse, before he witnessed the spectacle for himself. The longer I let this go, the larger that threat became.

"I know," I responded. Trust me, no one paid more attention to food than I did.

"You don't have to eat them. I just thought you might like them since I really don't know what kind of candy you like. I was kind of shooting in the dark here," Edward defended. Shit, I am such a bitch! Here he was taking the initiative in every aspect imaginable and I was sitting here like a spoiled brat, wrapped in deceit and centered on my own fear.

"No, you're right. I love mints. I've never tried these before, that's all. I bet they're great." I suppressed the urge to flee and smiled instead. I unwrapped one of the candies and ate it slowly. It wasn't really the love of mint that kept me tied to the candies but the fact that they seemed to relieve the nausea sometimes and they were successful in disguising that oh-so-lovely vomit smell. I used to chew gum but then I started getting headaches, my jaw aching from the constant chewing motion. Mints had been working out much better for me.

I claimed another patty for good measure and then tied off the bag and dropped it to the floor, out of sight, helping me to forget my lapse in self control. I was hoping that because mint was a natural antiemetic the candy wouldn't set my stomach to self-destruct. It only took about a half hour to find out.

I was hidden under Edward's arm avoiding the grossest movie I'd ever seen. Well, I didn't exactly see the movie, I just berated Edward into telling me what was happening while I closed my eyes and lost myself in Edward's body. He must have thought the snuggling meant I was cold because he reached down to get a blanket from the floor. Edward tucked the blanket around us and handed me a bottle of lemonade. I took a drink of the tart liquid and there it was, creeping into my belly, the gurgling and rumbling associated with an irritated bowel.

Shit! My stomach lurched and I calmed myself by inhaling Edward's refreshing scent deep into my lungs. It seemed to calm the involuntary reaction momentarily and I used this break in nausea to fill myself with another compulsion that I noticed seemed to distract me from the pressure of my extended abdomen. After some meaningless transfer of niceties, I kissed Edward.

I started slowly, tugging on his lips with mine, sucking his lip into my mouth because I knew he liked it when I did that. The kiss distracted my attention, the nausea and pain in my stomach lessening and altering, shifting into a different pain, a pain that was easily eased by much more attractive means. Edward pulled me closer, his tongue gaining access to mine, my hands moving up to his reddish brown tangles. His hair felt strange, crunchy almost, and I twirled the gelled portions between my fingers to loosen the strands. His mouth was starting to get intensely powerful, the sexual energy between us had been mounting all week, and each time we found ourselves in these intimate exchanges it got harder and harder to control myself.

I wanted him, like, wanted him wanted him. I wanted to give myself to him completely but I didn't know if he completely wanted me. I couldn't deny the attraction, the fervor with which his hands and mouth and other slightly more important parts seemed to react to my attention, but I didn't know if this was enough. I knew Edward was a virgin, I just didn't know why. I mean, Edward was beautiful, like the kind of beautiful that made you forget that horrible things like pain and suffering even existed in the world. It was glaringly obvious I wasn't the only one harboring this opinion and yet Edward had still remained unattached. I wasn't complaining, trust me, his inexperience matched mine, allowing my insecurities with my performance of the sexual nature to go unfounded. It seemed that together in this intimate way with him, I felt confident and desired, allowing self-doubt to melt away. I loved the way I felt about myself when I was with Edward and I wanted to feel that way more and more.

I craved to be closer so I shifted to my knees, pressing myself against him and forcefully wrapping my mouth around his, my hands moving in his hair and my body rolling on top of him. I pitched forward in an attempt to release some of the potential energy radiating from deep below my navel.

I pushed into him, unable to control the way my body was pulsing in waves against him now and I had to further our connection, yearning for him to take advantage of this damn skirt. He was apparently in need of some coaxing so I shifted to kiss him again, dragging my hands down his chest and resting them in his lap, his already hard dick palpable through his jeans. Fuck, that is such a turn on, the fact that his body reacts to me this way, that I was possibly responsible for this involuntary response, like even subconsciously Edward's body danced to my energy, connecting to mine in a symphony of explicit bliss.

My hands caressed and rubbed, clutching at his dick through the stiffness of denim, trying to convey my need to feel his skin. I decided it was better to apologize than to ask and be denied, so I unbuttoned his pants. I had noticed his unspoken rule, his aversion to being exposed at the same time. I didn't quite understand it and I hadn't asked, but simply pressed the issue whenever possible. I wasn't exactly wearing pants tonight, Alice coconspirator in my carefully thought out plan, Operation Mutual Nakedness.

Edward noticed also. "No, let me do you. I mean, we can't let this skirt go to waste," he smirked. He was trying to entice me into caving, the offer of orgasmic ecstasy on the table, but I couldn't deny this new compulsion. I ignored him, unzipping his pants.

He moaned, either in pleasure or protest, I couldn't decide.

"Please, Edward," I begged, knowing he wouldn't deny my request. He rarely ever did. I pulled down his pants and attended to his cock, grasping with both hands, and massaging the entire area. I once read this book that said that most people only pay attention to the product and not the process. This kind of stuck with me and I really enjoyed this process so I ran my hands over everything. As my hand traveled up his shaft and over the tip, a small amount of fluid leaked out of the slit and the sight of this made me want to do something I'd never done before.

I wanted to taste him, curious to see if this part of him tasted as good as his mouth did, like warm summer honey. I ran my thumb across the tip, the slippery liquid filming over the tip. Edward reacted with enthusiasm, his hips shifting and his hand yanking the neckline of my top down to expose my breast, palming the flesh and toying with my nipple as my hands continued to stroke his dick. Jesus, his hands were amazing, the sensitive skin between his fingers tingled sending electric sparks shooting throughout my body, warming the tissue and causing my breath to smother in my lungs. I felt like I was breathing so loudly, embarrassingly so, my every sound echoing in the small cab. I tried to calm myself by breathing through my nose a couple times.

Edward leaned his head against the back window, closing his eyes and enjoying my hands on him. I had kind of gotten to know the types of things Edward particularly liked and using this knowledge and his reactions, I felt accomplished that I was able to make him feel something amazing.

I wanted to give him more. The urge to reach down and place my mouth around his dick was tormenting me. I yearned for that experience, to have every part of him inside of me, and this was one way I could do that. However, I knew about his past with Jessica Stanley and I was afraid he wouldn't like this because of what had happened with her. I was nervous as fuck, worried he would reject my advances, and I was worried about how I would react if he rejected me.

With Edward's head leaning back against the window and my hands wrapped around him, I used my tongue to lick the sticky head of his dick, my eyes intent on his expression and gauging his reaction. He alerted his head as soon as he realized what I had done and I had a sudden afterthought that maybe I should have warned him, that this was exactly the same way as fucking Stanley had done it, surprised him while his eyes were closed.

"Is this okay?" I asked before he could speak, his face jolted with shock and wonder. Again that worry engaged my cognizance, the threat of rejection foreboding.

Edward's face softened, pleading in his eyes yet nonchalance in his voice, "Yeah, I mean, you don't have to." I think he added that last part to make himself feel less guilty for wanting this too. His acceptance eased my worry and I allowed a coy smile to invade my face. I paused, my lips gently resting on his tip purposely causing the anticipation to thicken. He was watching me, his eyes on my mouth, and I knew he was waiting, causing me to smile wider as I pushed him into my mouth, fully enveloping him and applying a slight suction, moving my tongue to trace every curve, line and protrusion that I could distinguish. Every action deliberate and slow, I continued to move up and down along his length, my mouth and hands working together, all in the endeavor to bring him that lustrous level of erotic enlightenment.

I felt Edward's hand sliding up my leg, gripping the back of my thigh, the skin beneath his fingers flowing with electric charges. His fingers grazed the center of my panties and I continued to whirl, my tongue applying more pressure as I pressed my lips around him more tightly, matching the intensity of my own yearning now, internally begging for Edward to just fucking do it already. I mean, shit, my ass was conveniently placed allowing the easiest access imaginable and Edward was rubbing my underwear? Karma again, rearing its ungrateful head and making yet another appearance at an inopportune time, reminded me of my taunting and teasing just seconds ago.

Just as I had made up my mind to further the situation myself, Edward finally slipped his fingers into the soft cotton, pushing his fingers into me and eliciting a moan that was only muted by having him in my mouth. The ease to the anticipation was immediate and once again, Edward inside me, even in this fashion, satiated that need for fulfillment. To have him connected this way, to know a part of me so hidden from all others, engaged all my emotions and I craved to engage him fully.

Edward pushed the hair from my face and his hands tingling in my hair sent shivers spiraling down my spine. His fingers lingered on my neck and he removed his hand from between my legs. This lack of contact caused panic to rise in my chest, my heart racing, and I needed him back. I was desperate for the distraction, fearful of the bile that would surely resurface if I let Edward remove himself from me. "I feel renewed, I feel disabled by these bonfires in my spine…"

I slithered into his lap, pressing my panties into him and I could feel the wetness on my thigh, his dick pressing into the crease of my groin. Fuck, he was so close, if I shifted only slightly I could have him inside me, easy and comfortably natural and it was at once clear to me that this was where he was supposed to be.

"Bella," he gasped, surprised and maybe even a little fearful. I wanted to reassure him that it was what I wanted so I told him it was okay, desperate in my attempts to convince him that it really was the most natural and beautiful thing that we could do for each other, but I don't think any of my words came out that eloquently so I stopped with the verbal explanation and continued with the physical one. I adjusted onto him fully, my panties pushed against his hardness pressing into me and rubbing against my clit. The tiny amount of material was almost inconsequential and I rocked on top of him, the heat and wetness saturating my underwear and pulsing, the blood rushing through this area and pounding in the flesh. I could have continued the grinding and it would have sufficed, but I was stubbornly intent on that connection.

Before I could slide into position he spoke, and the words were deafening.

"Bella, not here, okay? Not in your truck at the drive-in. I mean, it's only our first date." Rejection. He was rejecting me. The connection, the natural beautiful sharing, he didn't want it.

And I was a freak because I did.

I felt like such a moron! Why would he want me? My obsessive need to have Edward a part of me was becoming increasingly obvious and I'm sure as soon as he realized his hold on me, he would leave. Why would he stay? There wasn't anything interesting or special about me that made it worthwhile enough for him to stay. The thought of my existence minus Edward caused my stomach to bend and twist, the meager contents rising in my throat, and I actually had to swallow back the vomit. I had to leave, get out of this truck before I made a fool of myself again. I turned to anger, recalling his words and purposely using them against him.

I squinted my eyes, pulled out my best mean face, and shouted, "What do you mean by that? Are you insinuating I'm some kind of slut or something?" Guilt burned at this deceit but I was operating on self-preservation now.

"Of course not, Bella, I'm just saying, not now, not here," Edward tried to explain. He was giving me an excuse, trying to let me down easy. He continued, "I mean, your dad would kill me."

I was just going to ignore his excuses. I was going to pretend to be angry with him and leave until I had time to think about what Edward was becoming to me. I wanted to meditate on the fact that I had never felt comfort, I had never been happy to be engaging in life, never been at ease with being myself until now, until Edward. I needed to assess what this meant and how horribly it was going to hurt when Edward was done with me. I needed to wallow in the anticipated pain so that when it happened it wouldn't crush me. Because it would happen, it always did. Normally I would just bail first, but this wasn't the normal situation and I didn't know what the fuck I was going to do.

But then Edward mentioned my father and for a slight moment I was distracted.

"Fuck my dad, Edward!" I responded furiously, the fact that Edward would use that as an excuse was infuriating. My father had no right to even be considered, his impact on my decisions negligible, coinciding with his willingness to be involved in my existence. That Edward used my father's feelings as an excuse not to fuck me caused an involuntary heave, the aftertaste of chocolate and lemon and peppermint burning the back of my throat as I choked back the bile so I could continue my rant.

"And what the hell are we waiting for? Don't you want me like that? Don't you want this?" Fat tears were rolling down my cheeks now because I already knew the answer, my brain circulating back to self-preservation. I had to get out of there before he voiced the words confirming my fears and cementing the idea in my brain. Once again anger became my ally. I think I told him to go fuck himself or something and got the hell out of that truck. The compulsion to puke was rising again and I only narrowly escaped spilling the contents of my stomach in front of a boy that didn't need another excuse to not want to have sex with me.

I ran to the restroom, the ballerina flats slapping against the pavement, my skirt all twisted from Edward's hands beneath it and tangling in my running legs. This only made the tears flow more freely, blinding and hot as they streaked down my face, frustrated with the reasons why I had wanted to even wear this skirt in the first place.

When I arrived at the restroom I found it thankfully empty. I entered a stall and kneeled over the toilet, sweat beading on my forehead, the unease and discomfort in my abdomen taunting, calling me a fucking failure, and I had to dispose of this bully. I shoved my fingers in my mouth and gagged, the contents of my stomach coming up easily this time and spilling into the toilet before me. I spat, failure chanting in my mind. Failure, failure, failure. It was all I could think of: failed at Edward, at our date, at being normal, at eating, at Charlie, a big fucking failure at life. I sobbed over the toilet, fucking hating myself for ruining the date, for what Edward must be thinking right now after the way I had spoken to him. I knew he didn't think I was a slut or anything, he just didn't want me like I wanted him, and he couldn't really be blamed for that. I was to blame for all of this.

I spat into the toilet again, my hair in my mouth and sticking to my face, when I heard a voice outside the stall door.

"Bella?" Edward was in the fucking women's restroom.

"What are you doing in here?" I sobbed. Fuck! I wasn't ready for him to see this, to know this, not now, not here.

"Are you okay? Are you sick?" he asked, worry thick in his voice. I couldn't do this anymore. I either had to give this up or give up Edward. The fact that I even had to think about it made a sob well in my heart again and fresh tears spilled over my cheeks.

"Yeah, Edward. I'm fucking sick." Defeat was worming its way into my consciousness. I wanted Edward to comfort me again like he had after the party. I wanted his hand on my back, his soothing touch, his lips on my forehead. I wanted him to help me.

Edward said the words that I longed to hear. "Come out. I'll take you home."

I wiped my face with the sleeve of the black shirt, trying to wait until the redness and swelling diminished. I finally opened the stall door to find Edward standing on the other side, his mouth creased with consternation and fear, and I felt like shit knowing I had caused that.

He pulled me into his capable arms and led me to the truck. Edward opened the passenger side door and helped me in, even fastening my seatbelt for me. I just sat there, my hair sticking to my sweaty face, a fucking zombie, even the fact that he was buckling my seatbelt like I was a four year old didn't bother me like it normally would. It just made me feel worse because it was so fucking considerate, the regard he was taking with me, all the while making promises, guarantees that I criminally found hope in.

Edward started the truck and pulled out of the drive-in and onto the highway. He was driving fast, my truck grunting its dissent, the cab shaking and threatening to self destruct. I looked over at Edward, a wild glare in his eyes. Shit! He's freaking out. I've totally freaked him out.

"Edward, slow down! You're going to murder my truck," I said, trying to distract him.

Edward didn't say anything. He looked over at me, inquiring, speculating, wondering, a stew of scrutiny simmering in his gaze. I searched the floor of the truck for my jacket. I still had that vomit taste in my mouth and needed a peppermint badly. I could see Edward out of the corner of my eye, not wanting to make eye contact for fear he would see the shame in my expression. He continued to watch me, not paying nearly enough attention to the road upon which he was driving my ancient vehicle at high velocities. I needed a peek at Edward, an attempt to decipher his thought process. Still bent over and searching the floor, I glanced up at him from behind my massive shroud of snarled hair.

He was staring at me, his handsome features illuminated by the lights of the highway blurring past us in multicolored streaking fluorescence. He wasn't even attempting to watch the road now, his eyes fixated on my every movement. "He sees the damage in my face..."

"Edward, maybe you should pull over. I don't think you should drive like this," I said cautiously, pushing my hair behind my ear so I could see him more clearly. What was the matter with him? He was a little frantic to get me home after the restroom, sure, but this was something different, there was something uncontrollable in his actions, a frenzy almost, like a fucking shark discovering blood in the water.

He moved slightly, glancing to the road and then straight back at me, his eyes dark with theory, hypothesizing the cause of tonight's events I'm sure. Yep, he was connecting the fucking dots and soon he would have a pretty disgusting picture of what I truly was.

Finally finding my coat I reached into the pocket and pulled out a mint. I unwrapped the hard red and white striped candy and popped it into my mouth, the cool tingle of the sweet, fresh flavor resonating in my nostrils. I relaxed into the seat, leaning against the back window and trying to calm the tornado of emotions going on inside me with meditative chants.

Instead of calm, chaos erupted as Edward slammed on the brakes causing the truck to swerve and fishtail to a stop beneath a poorly lit bridge, the steel structure green and glistening in the damp and dull glare of the streetlamp. My head flew forward, the momentum causing shit to pitch and roll around my feet and the next force slamming me back against the seat. My heart was pounding in my chest, the smell of burnt rubber sticking to my lungs made my breathing erratic, and I wanted to fucking punch Edward in the face. I settled on verbal abuse instead.

"What the fuck? Are you trying to fucking kill us?" I screeched, my white-knuckled hands clutching the dashboard, trying to extinguish the automatic response to the adrenaline now shooting through my veins.

Edward stared out the windshield, conviction playing upon his lips.

"What's with the fucking mints, Bella?" Edward's voice was calm and quiet.

Shit! I didn't know if I could do this, if I could actually say the words eating disorder to him. I knew as soon as he found out he was going to try to help me, try to find a way to solve this for me, and I was going to want to instinctively push him away. I didn't trust myself to be what I should for Edward, I was scared shitless I would disappoint him, make him feel like a failure because he couldn't help me.

But what if he could? I had to admit, everything that I had been feeling with Edward lately was new to me. Everything, the attachment, the connection, the desire…I had never...never cared before, never wanted to care. What if Edward was the difference? What if I could be different with him?

I could try. I think I could really try, but he couldn't know. I couldn't stand it if he were constantly watching over me, treating me like an invalid, buckling my seatbelt like a fucking four year old in our every interaction. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if Edward thought of me like that, weak and broken, a burden for him to carry. No, I could do this on my own. Edward had already made a difference without any knowledge of my problem.

Diversion is the key to self-preservation. Divert and conquer.

"What? What are you talking about?" I asked him, ignorance my ally.

"Fuck, Bella, that's all I can fucking smell on you, those damn mints." Edward put his hands in his hair and ran them down his face, bringing them to his chin and looking at me finally. "What is with the mints, Bella?"

Diversion thickened in my resolve and I swallowed. It had to be done if any of this was going to work.

"What is with your parents, Edward?" I stared directly into his eyes, hoping he wouldn't be able to dispute my request and reminding him of his own diversion.

Edward's eyes bore into mine, intense and decisive emeralds, their hue agonizing and conflicted as he determined whether or not to share this part of himself with me.

He turned his eyes to the steering wheel, tracing the curve with his finger. "They're dead," he shrugged.

"How?" I asked, quietly intrigued. He was quiet for a long time, just running his fingers along the curve of the wheel. I scooted closer, reaching out to take his hand and bringing it to my lips. I had known it would be difficult but I hadn't really given credence to exactly what it must be doing to Edward, how it must tear him up to have to relive this so that I could have my selfish diversion. More than the selfish diversion though, I wanted to know what extinguished that fire in him. What brought him back to the brink of self control every time?

"He was always gone, working late into the night, sometimes neglecting to come home at all," Edward said softly, one of his hands in mine, the other still running along the circle.

"I didn't see it, you know. I didn't even fucking know. I started to notice weird shit though. The police would call my mom, saying they picked him up in some bar and he would be muttering the strangest things, accusing my mom of affairs, of turning Alice and me against him. My mom would pick him up at the station while he ranted about how everyone was out to get him, the police, the partners in his law firm, my mother, Alice, me. Everyone just accepted it, turned the other cheek because it was easier than admitting the truth." I guessed he was talking about his father, the image from the picture in the Cullens' hallway still vivid in my memory. I brought my other hand to his face, tracing the bones of his cheeks and jaw before running my hands to his hair, trying to smooth the coppery mess.

Edward continued, "My father started using drugs, mostly pot, sometimes coke and probably other shit I didn't know about. I'd heard him tell my mom it made him feel more normal, like he could deal with some of the fucked up things he was facing. But, then he'd get violent. He'd get into fights at bars, destroy things. Once, when I was ten, he had said that he saw the devil's face in the wallpaper in my bedroom. He took a crowbar and started ripping up the drywall. When I was thirteen, he said I had the devil's voice. He locked me in my room, keeping "the devil" at bay, prisoner, for the good of mankind. He never physically hurt me really, he'd just slap me around, it was mostly mental and emotional shit. He never touched Alice or my mom though. Maybe he knew I could take it, I could be a man.

And my mother just accepted it. She loved him, cared for him, playing nurse to him when he would come down from one of his episodes, holding his head in her lap, stroking his face and hair, soothing him, even after the horrid things he would say or do to us, she loved him. She just fucking accepted it." Edward wiped the corner of his eye, a few tears already welling in his green lashed ovals, and turned to look at me, anguish caught in his face as he debated what to say next.

"He killed her. Two years ago he stabbed her in the chest. I thought there would have been more blood, but when Alice and I got home from school she looked like she could have been sleeping. She was on the bed, on her back, her eyes closed. And at first we couldn't find him, my father. But I knew that it was his fault, somehow. Alice ran and locked herself in the bathroom, curling up in the bathtub. I was glad, she was safer there. I called 911. I didn't touch her, I couldn't, not even to check for a pulse because I knew she was gone. And I wanted to find him, to kill him myself. I would have, too. I wanted to just beat the living shit out of him for making us live that way, fearful, paranoid, ashamed. It turned out he wouldn't give me the satisfaction. I found his body in his office, slumped over his desk, his self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head spilling onto his latest deposition. And I felt relief at finding him like this, relief that he could no longer torment us and relief that my mother wouldn't have to live through the pain of finding him like this." Edward turned to face me now with tears on his cheeks and I brought my fingers to his face in an attempt to dry them. Edward grabbed the hand that rested on his cheek, bringing it to his lips and kissing it softly.

"My father had schizophrenia. It's a genetic disease. That might be me someday, Bella. And it could be you. I could hurt you if I'm not careful. I already have." Edward brought his fingers to rest on the curve in my neck, smoothing one spot over and over with firm pressure.

"I did this, I made this mark, because I couldn't control myself." Edward brought his hand to his face, covering his eyes, his face distorted in pain. I had no idea what he was talking about so I pulled down the visor and looked at the spot he had been rubbing in the mirror. There was a small bruise on my neck, reddish brown. A hickey, it was just a fucking hickey. Edward was freaking out over a goddamn hickey.

"If I let myself slip just once, it could all be over," Edward continued. "I'm scared shitless, Bella. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing."

I couldn't take it, all the shit he was saying. It just seemed so far removed from the situation at hand, so distant and circumstantial. If, could be, might…they were all words of little real bearing, all speculative in nature, but it all suddenly made sense to me. His reluctance at first, the fighting, the anti-drug attitude, even the avoidance of real sex. Edward didn't know how to do this, this being normal shit. He'd always just kind of lived in a box, a scary, emotionally scarring box. Trust me, I knew this place well and my entire being ached for him.

"Edward, I'm scared too," I told him, crawling into his lap again, this time with a different agenda. I wrapped my arms around his waist, burrowing into him and just immersing myself in his very being. "Everyone's fucked up. Everyone has issues. It's just a matter of finding someone whose issues fucking mesh with yours the best, finding out what level of fucked up can you live with. And I know what I can't live without," I whispered into his chest and neck. Edward folded his arms tighter around my frame, curling into a ball with me at the center, magnetic mass holding us together and pressed his face into my shoulder. Warm and wet spilled onto my sleeve, and I kissed his cheek, breathing and inhaling the salty remnants of his lost family and childhood that was currently saturating my shirt.

I don't know how long we stayed under that bridge but when the first mockingbirds of the morning began to sing and flutter, Edward drove me home. I was exhausted, mentally drained and defeated. During the night, Edward had told me everything, every little disturbing detail about his family. He told me his mother, Elizabeth, and father, Edward Sr., met in high school and how they were married the summer after they graduated. Elizabeth had worked two jobs, sustaining their need for cash while his father had gone to college and became a lawyer. It was supposed to be Elizabeth's turn for educational enlightenment but she had gotten pregnant and gave up any hopes for a career after she had Edward, just another sacrifice for the love and life she had chosen at such a young age.

He explained how he had taken over as caregiver for Alice when his mother was occupied with their father, how he'd pack their lunches, get her ready for school and help her with homework after they walked home. Alice would sleep in his bed during their father's episodes, and he would hide from his father under the bed or in the closet when the threat was more severe. Edward talked about the kinds of things his father would do during his psychosis. His father had once poured paint into every cooking pot they owned, placing the pans around the house, and his mother had just let the paint dry and ruin the cookware because she was too frightened to move them.

Edward talked more about the day he found them dead, how Carlisle came to arrange the funeral and then brought them to Forks. He was fifteen when that shit happened, forced to grow up at fifteen, and I couldn't imagine myself in his or Alice's position. I just listened to him talk, letting him vent his anger, his pain giving in to the sadness and mourning the loss, something I don't think he had ever gotten the chance to do.

While Edward talked about his father, I thought about my own. There were some things from when I was a kid that I remembered about my father and they were pleasant, happy even. His smells, his cooking, the way his moustache tickled my cheek when he would kiss me goodnight, I used to dwell on them, searched for them when I could, trying to regain that innocence of my youth. When Renee took me from Forks and Charlie disappeared from my life, I was forced to mourn the demise of my childhood and ultimately my relationship with my father. I said my goodbyes, thinking I'd never get another chance to see him, to smell his aftershave and tobacco, to talk to him or feel his whiskery face on mine. When I lived in Phoenix I never talked about him to the people I knew there. He was a distant and painful memory of what my life could have been. I wasn't given any explanations, left to internalize the blame for my father's absence. My mother had always made it clear that she hadn't wanted children, that I was a mistake. I assumed he had felt that way too. I didn't know for sure but when he neglected to try to find me, when I didn't hear from him for seven years, the suspicion was pretty much confirmed.

I was only beginning to realize that maybe Charlie wasn't what he seemed, that maybe I had been wrong in my assumptions and now I was panicking. Charlie had come very close to dying during his heart attack, he could potentially die still, the threat only weeks abated. Edward's confession about his father ignited a desperation in me to renew the relationship with my own dad, experience all the things a child wants from their parent. I wanted him to worry about me and lecture me when I came home late, track me down when I didn't call him with my whereabouts. I wanted him to teach me how to change the oil in my truck or a flat tire so I wouldn't have to rely on some boy to do it for me. More than anything, I wanted him to cook me dinner, like he used to when I was younger, remembering to crush the tomatoes extra fine because he knew I didn't like my sauce chunky and I wanted to be able to enjoy it without suffocating in guilt.

Without some drastic lifestyle changes, Charlie was in deep shit. He was still severely overweight, suffering from a variety of life threatening illnesses ranging from sleep apnea to diabetes, and there was still the dread of complications from the surgery, the strain on his heart ever present. His body wasn't going to last forever and I almost felt like we were operating on borrowed time as it was, Charlie's heart a ticking bomb, and that we were just waiting for it to explode. I had been offered a second chance here, an epiphany brimming in my awareness. I had come here to help Charlie under the pretense of satisfying my own Karmic unease, my failures as a daughter and a friend most prevalent in that disquiet, but maybe that's not the reason I was here at all. Edward was indirectly responsible for this realization, his intensity and warmth in our interactions offering a sharp contrast to the indifference I was used to. Edward had really never known his father, the disease claiming his existence before Edward could. His confession made me reconsider my unease with Karma, that maybe I had it all wrong. Coming to Forks wasn't my Karmic obligation, it was a gift, an opportunity to have something I would have never had otherwise…a father. And if I was patient enough, maybe I could have love too.

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A/N

Again, Amers, thank you so much for your assistance with Psychological babble! I appreciate it so much!

Joni songs:

In France They Kiss on Main Street

Come in From the Cold

Roses Blue

What a Strange, Strange Boy

Who's sighing in relief? I am! Review my sweeties!