Stampede Of A Thousand Pulses by ss10.pdf

Storyid: 5676099 FanFiction.net Name: Stampede Of A Thousand Pulses Author: ss10 Chapter 1 to 24

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Summary: A love so desperate it typifies addiction. "No one else." And he sounds so barbaric; the first sentence that carries no stutter is not sweet or even gentle. "Only me." Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. Delving into the word of Addictward. This isn't pretty or fluffy. Sorry. STAMPEDE OF A THOUSAND PULSES 1. Realizations "I need your help." And so often I hear this, and so often I comply—because this is Edward, and in turn, I thaw. "I'm fu-fu-fucked, I fucked up a-a-gain, so-sorry Bell… Bella please…" "Where are you?" "Ca-Cambridge house, behind that b-back alley…." "I'm coming." I rise up from my bed, the covers thrown to the side as I stand up thoughtlessly, dizziness catches me, and I collapse forward. Bruised knees, the laminate is thwarting against my unclothed skin. I stand, unsteady, feeling drunk and as sleep departs I scurry to the bathroom. A quick inspection of bed head, minty toothpaste, cold water splashed. I want to look okay for him, even though I am fully aware that in this state he is less than discerning when it comes to my appearance… it doesn't matter. He called me 'angelic' the last time I came to him, his hands ran through my messed curls, buried his face into them as he sighed into my chest—promises of no more lapsing… he made slow love to me and although I was aware that promises were made to be broken I revelled in it…basked, so desperate for him to get better, so desperate for my fairytale to come true. But if ever there was anything to name our connection 'fairytale' would not be it.

I jog down the stairs, still in my nightgown—it's an embarrassing shade of baby pink. I throw my overcoat on and stick my feet into long brown boots. I look bizarre and I feel it. The drive is twenty minutes, I can guess this much. I hold the steering wheel firmly, my palm sweating against the holed leather. And as I pull into a quiet corner I get out and walk briskly onto the street. The cold isn't biting; I find the breeze whimsical as it batters about my night dress. I pull my overcoat tighter. I am looking, not frantically, because I remember acutely how frantic I can get. I mimic the behaviour of an addict, panic attacking my lungs, deeming me useless. And so I am stilled in a controlled pace, hearing the flat of my boots hit the concrete every second with a clip, clop, clip, clop. I reach my destination and as I stand stoic, I see him. "Half an hour, half a fucking hour!" he yells, and so swiftly his tone softens, flaps at me apologetically. "I wa-wa-was cold and desssperate. Bell-bella, come here." I walk slow, act slow. "Sorry I took so long." He looks up, his lids usually not visible, deep set eyes that pierce and cause such unease, lashes fanned, light brown-dark blonde, green, green, emerald stones. "I don't care," he whispers. Chapped lips that seem desperate, Edward looks up at me from his position on the floor. "I l-love you so much." I bend to meet him, sit down next to him—cold concrete nearly accosting my bare behind as I take his hand in mine. "I love you too." And then his head collides into my stomach, heavy and hard nearing my womb as he kisses my center with gentle vigor. I stroke his hair, cold under my finger tips and his hot breath breathes out onto my crouch. "I l-love you Bella," he repeats and kisses me there once more. "S-so much." And I can feel his hands as they run along my bended knee, they trail up my angled thigh and dip down to my middle. "You are s-s-so warm," he murmurs. And however lewd, vulgar, and inappropriate he is, I allow it. "Be wet for me, p-p-please." I hold my breath. I hadn't anticipated this I can't comprehend the feel of his rough fingers as they graze me so brazenly. He kisses me again, right on my warmth as he parts my overcoat, it falls at either side of me and from this height, I look down to see a head of fire tipped brown locks that shine a dark bronze under the flickering street light, in my lap. His head circles tightly, he presses more kisses through the now damp cotton of my night gown. "Edward," I say. "No, not here, not now." "But I l-love you Bella, I love you." "I know you do, but please." He refuses to comply, and irrepressibly my thighs part, I let him do as he pleases—because with him I am a less

inhibited version of myself. No morals if he doesn't want them. No guard. No resistance. I sink deeper and deeper into his pull; my Edward is some type of drug to me… I am his personal junkie at his every beckon and call, I know this is weak, but do I care? No. "Fucking gorgeous," he whispers. His fingers push, one and then two, deeper into my opening, soft groans escape me, I am amorous in this filth, amongst the desolate street—sat on a sidewalk—with my Edward's fingers fucking me so passionately. His head rises; he curses incoherently and grabs a taught amount of my night gown. He forces it back and I am bare. No underwear guards me, I was in too much of a hurry to care when he called. He cups me possessively. "No one else." And he sounds so barbaric; the first sentence that carries no stutter is not sweet or even gentle. "Only me." And so dopily I nod, aroused even though I shouldn't be, lustful, even though I shouldn't be, in love… I shouldn't be. "Edward," I whisper. He takes his eyes from my most private part and looks up, a slow lazy grin forms on his mouth—stretched across split lips. "Yesss love?" "Kiss me?" "Always." His hand remains on my sex, holds it tighter, firmer, and then his eyes are level with mine. Pupil's dilated, heavy black that overrides forest green. And he licks my lips with a shaky tongue. He licks again and runs his wet mouth all over my mine… so sloppily. It doesn't matter… I'm still aroused. Poised, he stiffens his tongue, pointed as it parts my lips and suddenly, we are kissing and his hand is caressing me, I grind myself against his palm. "Good?" "Good," I pant. "Mmmm." I feel him slide closer, he brings his body nearer, and in a blink of an eye I am straddling him. He thrusts upward and I feel that familiar bulge in his pants. Edward grunts and mumbles into my shoulder. Quickly he undoes his jean buttons, scooting them down with a tensed palm on my back, and I eye his grey underwear in mild fascination—more anxious to see his erection; hard and long. I wet my lips. And as he takes my expression in, he grins. "It wants you," he teases. He seems less jittery, more responsive, I wonder briefly if he is now in a correct state of mind—but our predicament isn't one to be desired—however alert he is now—he wouldn't stoop so low to fuck me in an empty street… I hope. My thighs begin to ache; I feel my muscles strain against the stiff denim of his jeans as his toned legs steady me almost effortlessly.

He begins to flutter kisses down my neck, so softly that I moan. My insides twirl, flurry in my stomach as I clutch his shoulders, Edward breathes breathlessly into my ear, I fight the need to collapse in his arms. It is all so intense and I am feeling so dirty, foul, and unrepentant. I want to impale myself on him. I want him inside me. I want a good fuck on the sidewalk. I want. I want. I want. I tremble. Trapped sobs threaten to escape me as I realize how twisted this is, but yet I still welcome it—because I will take what I can get. I am so in love, so in lust, so lost, and I can't help myself. I understand his struggle, his need to slowly kill himself, his addiction, and so I cannot fault him. For each drug he intakes, for each drink he imbibes, I am just as bad—only my addiction is him and I am left on a seesaw of pure euphoria and self hatred. "Let it feel you love, let it feel your sweetness…p-please." His voice is quivering, he is sounding so desperate. "Want you all around me, soak me, in baby… w-want you, s-so bad." I moan, and I lift myself up. I hover over his tip, brush myself against him as he groans so loudly that I worry someone might hear. I do it again, wrongly excited by the possibility. I begin to roll my hips and I feel his wet mouth open on my stomach. "Need you," he whimpers. I do this to him. I make him so needy for it all and wickedly I am proud of that, I am a woman possessed. I grind against him, not allowing him to enter me just yet, a few more moments of teasing before I cannot take it any longer… I let him enter me, slow until he has filled me half way. He sighs. "God, don't stop." "Never," I tell him. And then I push down, I take all of him in, so tight that it burns, I cry out. He hisses, grunts as I ride him, back and forth, up and down, it is pure lust that drives us now—as we sex on the edge of the pavement. Grunts and groans, quivering and moaning, Edward bites my neck, fingers dig at my backside as I pull his hair, fisting it harshly in my hands. I bounce on top of him, so far gone from any state of true consciousness, in need of pleasure, in need of that familiar explosion. I need it. I need him. "Fuck," he moans. My mouth hangs agape as I feel myself ready to come. I cry out embarrassingly, some form of a noise leaves me as I open my eyes—his stare burned into mine as he breathes out in uneven paces. And then his eyes trails downward, to where we are joined and I allow him to look on perversely as his arousal pounds into mine, so fast, so hard, so wet. This seems to turn him on, because he can't tear himself away from it, and so he licks his lips as my mouth dries. "I love it, I fucking love it," he says, eyes trained on it. I tug at his hair, my orgasm is impending… I feel it travel to my gut. "Love me," I beg. "Love me Edward." And he looks up, so sorry to have ever been so direct, but then his eyes roll back into his head and I can tell he's about to come, because this is the face he always makes, so ugly, so pretty, so apt. "I love you," he tells me. "I fucking love you and… and…" "Edward," I moan.

"S-So g-good…" And I feel it, so overpowering, so overwhelming as it contorts every muscle in my body. I arch my back in pleasure, dirty pleasure—and as I come down I see the dazed look in his eyes. He begins to grind his teeth and his eyes disappear again. Roll again. And so aggressively he grips my hips and thrashes me about him, fucks me so raw and so crudely—until finally… he erupts. His cold sweaty head bumps into the crook of my neck and I try my best not to cry, because this is my fault, I am a whore, I am an idiot, I am all the lowly things the world would probably call me. Love doesn't matter. Bottom line was that I fucked him on a sidewalk, a dirty street corner, in my night gown, whilst he was high. Love doesn't do this. "B-b-bella, beautiful Bella, love are you crying?" I nod. Unable to respond with words. He pulls out, tucks himself in, and stands us up. He kisses my forehead and in our odd state drapes an arm protectively around me as he ushers us to the car. "I'll take care of you love." I nod. I was supposed to be taking care of him. "Please don't cry—I ca-can't focus too well, n-not in the b-best of states," he half chuckles. Reluctantly I move away. Reluctantly I get into the drivers seat. Reluctantly I stare straight on as he gets in next to me. And reluctantly I drive. I drive and drive. I drive pass my house. I drive pass his. And when he stops to ask me where I am heading, I reluctantly ignore him. I drive onward, so far onward, I drive until we stop in front of a pale yellow building—sickly in appearance—fitting in our predicament. "Where are we?" he asks. "Rehabilitation center." He blanches and suddenly the passenger door is flung open—he retches and splutters up empty chunks, a milk tinged hue of vomit as I get out to comfort him. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "But what else can I do?" Watery eyes meet mine. "Love me." "So much," I say. I kiss his bitter sick stained lips, not caring that he reeks because I am so far beyond caring about myself, about my well being, I just want him better. I turn to read the sign; St Matthews Hope and Recovery. "I can't." "You can." "Not w-without you…no!"

And he becomes hysterical, and before I know it two men rush outside, the yells and curses that slip from his tongue alerting them to a new arrival. He sounds so wild, so un-kept… it is frightening. I watch on in fear, stiff and still in loss, in reticent regret, in torture. "Don't worry mam," one Southern aid says. And they restrain him, so easily—because once his gaze shifted to mine he stops his madness and begins to weep. We walk to the opening, lights are on, the building is awake at such a late hour, and as I pull my arms around myself my heart breaks as I see my Edward slumped jadedly in a battered wheel chair. My hands tremble although they are stuck to my side, I grip my overcoat. I walk to him and bend so I can face him. Stroking him, kissing his lips. "You'll make it," I tell him. But he doesn't answer, instead he turns his head and he vegetates so coldly. I don't care…. I still love him and so I tell him this. "I love you." He doesn't reply and so I repeat myself. "I love you." And he sulks. But for once I realize, that for all the times I kept his secret, for all the times I ran to his side, for all the times I ignored my family, my friends, myself, for all the times I was just there—that this, was now my only option. If I wanted him better, this was the sacrifice that was eminent. Each time I drove past the building, each time I went inside to enquire, each time I saw the worry lines that perched themselves on Dr Cullen's fine face—I knew that it was coming, that this was coming. I ignored his sulks. "I love you," I said steadily. "Whether you believe it or not, and you will make it, and you will come home with me, and we will be happy. So fucking happy…" This caught his attention, because his eyes met mine, and a hot tear escaped. "For me… please?" And without hesitation, Edward, my Edward, nodded. ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### Chapter: 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. STAMPEDE OF A THOUSAND PULSES 2. Introductions I'm not paying attention, I never do in this class, Mr Banner voice is a high tenor, travels across the room like a freight train, rushing his slapdash lesson plan. Mike turns in his seat, psssst's at me, and asks if I am attending prom. I shrug, unconcerned because I am not sure yet. Angela now had a date, I couldn't be a third wheel, and I flinched at the idea of group dating with Jessica, Lauren and whoever else was a part of their circle.

"We have a new student arriving today," Mr Banner announces. I look toward the door, and on the other side of the frosted glass I can see an un-kept head of hair. Eric Yorkie ushers the person in and I note that this person is tall, a boy, lean and lithe. A thermal long sleeved t-shirt gloves his torso, an athletic physique but not a muscular one, and close fitting jeans—I am, as well as many others, instantly attracted. His jaw seems to be wired shut, deep set eyes and heavy brows, he doesn't seem too thrilled. "Edward Masen?" Mr Banner speaks. The boy nods curtly and without any instruction looks straight in my direction, eyeing the empty seat at my side and makes his stride. All the girls in our class are watching him, boys too—but girls are enraptured, boys envious. He seems so uncaring and everyone can tell this isn't an act, it isn't an attempt at appearing cool or rebellious, it just is. As he takes his seat, Mr Banner turns back to the white board and scribbles down instructions so that he can get back to whatever the hell he was typing on his laptop. I feign disinterest, but my balled fists dig at the table, and I look so silly as I try to still myself. I can't understand my body, I don't. I have absolutely no idea why I am reacting this way. I question whether or not this is an early form of Parkinson's. Must be. Can't be because of him. I've liked boys before, I've had crushes, it can't be him. "Is something wrong?" his voice is smooth, a rasp that doesn't correlate with his age. I assume he smokes. I suck in my bottom lip and shake my head to indicate a 'no', and for the rest of the lesson he leaves me be.

It frustrates me, because I'm lying on my bed at two in the morning thinking about the new student, how handsome, how rogue like… I sound so girly, and I feel it too. But was it a bad thing to swoon? Was I pathetic? Probably. But then so was every other girl at Forks high, every girl, junior/senior/teacher… yes even so, had in some way or another swooned. Edward Masen didn't socialize, didn't drift, he was all on his lonesome… confidently so. I admired that. Being able to just walk, and not talk, and not care about anything or anyone. It may have been selfish in reason, but it was honest, not many people are, we are all polite, well some are, and we are all compromising. I am so shallow. To be hankering after a boy just because he is good looking. God, I am no better than the likes of Lauren and her crew. I am just as bad, just as cliché. But I can't be bothered to care, I think for once in my life I am not fighting to. I flip onto my stomach, stuff an arm under a pillow, and imagine him at my side—because I'm such a loser. There's no point in denying that. And I welcome the truth, because tomorrow I'll be sat next to him again, and the next time he asks me something, I'll answer… I'll speak.

"I wonder if he has a girlfriend, must do, he hardly notices anyone." And by this she means her. Lauren flips her hair, her elbow rests on the lunch table and her chin rests in her hand. Across from her is Tyler Crawley, he pouts slightly but as soon as I witness this he straightens up—attempts to harden. It's a well known fact that he likes her, and it's an even bigger fact that she acts as though it doesn't matter. Sometimes I feel sorry for him, because he isn't ugly, he is quite easy on the eye, somewhat popular, somewhat liked, and yet the girl of his dreams

is out of reach… uninterested. Must suck to be him. "Maybe he's gay," Jessica says, a giggle comes shortly after, and we all reminded that her humor is beyond obvious. "He does wear tight pants." "They aren't that tight," Lauren defends. "Fitted, tailored, sexy." Her eyebrows wiggle and she beams a flawless smile at Jessica who responds back just as earnestly. "Who cares…" This is Tyler. "Right," Mike adds. "Who gives a shit?" "We do!" And Jessica and Lauren crack up at their own joke. Angela nudges me, offers me some chips. I take a few and munch appreciatively. "You okay?" "Yea," I shrug. "How's Ben?" Angela is sheepish, she crunches chips and pushes her glasses further up her nose. "Good." I don't push it, I don't want to embarrass her—although it is quite amusing seeing her blush so awkwardly… I am happy for her. Shy girl gets her guy. I hope she gets much more, Angela is a gentle soul. "So what about you?" "What about me?" Rolling her eyes she continues, motions her nose toward Edward Masen. I look in that direction. He is at a two seater table, chewing at a greasy slice of pizza, and he makes it look delicious. "He's… different," I carefully say. "Mmm, different good or different bad?" I smirk. "I'm indifferent." She grins and elbows me, I like that with so little words, we manage to entertain one another quite effortlessly. I think Jessica rolls her eyes at us, but I can't seem to be bothered with her at all… I never am. She shifts her gaze to Edward and bites her apple, and suddenly he looks up, she stops eating, frozen after being caught, and all he does is smirk—because he knows. He knows she wants him. I can't determine whether or not this is confidence or arrogance, maybe he is lofty… quite possibly. But with a face like his, I'm sure this is entitled, because Lauren is the same—the prettiest girl in our school, she is so very snooty. I guess it is safe for me to stare, because he is looking at Jessica and not at me, he's probably eyeing Lauren's thong line too. I'm not too sure, but it wouldn't be unlikely. But then his gaze shifts and its now my time to be caught. Shit. I look down and Angela is nudging my side. "Bella," she whispers, "new guy is totally eyeballing you." Oh God.

She giggles quietly and tells me it's now safe to act normal. Thank goodness this goes by unnoticed or so I thought—because Lauren is now staring at me, an ugly look on her face. "As if," she mutters. And I can't help but agree.

"Bear in mind that this counts for thirty percent of your grade, so no one in your pairing can slack." We listen to Mr Banner, he drones on and on, stuffs a finger in his nose, searches for buried treasure… so gross. "So I suppose we'll be close for the next few weeks." I almost forgot he was sat next to me. I almost made it. "I guess," I reply. I sense a small hint of a smile, but I don't bother to look, it's bad enough his voice is soft, so low, so velvety. I cannot believe my resolve, or my thoughts, I sound like imbecilic. "Earlier at lunch, sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable." I look up this time, because I can't believe he caught that—this is quite embarrassing. "Uh, no, you didn't… I mean, its fine… really." And he smirks. "Bad habit of mine," he says as he copies notes down. "Can't help myself sometimes." I don't know how to interpret that. I remain quiet, shallow swallows, bitten lips… can't talk, won't talk, feel dumb. Silence passes between us, and for that I am thankful, however awkward. And then he brushes the tip of his pen on top of my hand, flirtatious I think, because he drags it slowly across my skin, up and down. "Why won't you talk to me?" "Because you don't talk to me." "I'm talking to you now." "Okay," I stupidly reply. He chuckles softly. "Do I make you nervous?" I don't answer, instead I do my work. "I'll take that as a yes," he murmurs. "…But you have no need to be." "I beg to differ." Word vomit, I instantly regret. The class bell rings, I scurry to pack my books away, one drops to the floor and Edward bends to pick it up. He hands it to me. "See you tomorrow?" I nod and bolt out the door, and in the near distance, I hear a quiet laughter.

His breath hits my neck, a whisper in my ear. "Hello Bella." And I shiver. This is our regular routine now, me at my locker, him standing behind me, saying hello, saying something, because I'm too chicken to initiate anything. He is too beautiful and I feel so stupid in that admission, when has any boy ever been beautiful? This is so pathetic.

People have become aware of us now. We are not an item but we are something, because Edward doesn't talk to anyone else…brief nods…curt greetings, but with me; conversation, teasing, flirtation. All one sided, but not because I can help it, only because I can't… I am incapable of coherent speech. Angela thinks he likes me, really likes me, wants to date me, wants to get closer to me. I think, if anything, he is bored. Why he takes interest in me, I don't know but it thrills me still, because he holds my unsteady gaze and ignores the likes of pretty girls like Lauren, smiles with me, and is impassive with everyone else. At lunch, I sit at my regular spot, at the table with Mike, Tyler, Lauren, Jessica, Angela, and now Ben… he is a new addition. He is now Angela's boyfriend. As I rest back in my seat I chew pensively on my pizza… my thoughts interrupted… "I think I'd like to join you." Everyone at our table stares, Edward never socializes, but despite this, he takes a seat opposite me and a slow smile creeps onto his lips. "Edward!" Jessica squeaks. "Hi." He nods. And I fight back laughter, he notices. "You look nice today Bella." Oh God, not this… playing me in front of an audience. I look at him from under my lashes and continue eating, ignoring him, this is best. But he is relentless, he tells me he likes my shirt, my boring plain cotton tee and then he eyes my chest, ogles…. I flame up almost instantly, and everyone notices. "Cute," he says, he pretends that it unintentional for the others to hear, but I think I know better. He is enjoying this. He licks his lips after each bite of pizza, slowly, and eyes me, amused at our silent banter. In the corner of my eye, I see Lauren looking on. Confusion and displacement, she feels irrelevant. Usually she is the center of attention, but not at this minute, everyone is staring at me, at Edward, back and forth until she clears her throat. "So Edward, are you taking Bella to the prom?" She seems so radiant after this; she thinks she's clever, putting me in the spotlight, but in the horrible kind… the kind that makes me feel inadequate. The people at our table fiddle with their food now, knowing that I am under the wrath of Lauren, and feeling sorry for me. I am not a pitiful person. I am just quiet—but still I can feel it, all of their unease… except Jessica, who as Lauren's lackey is hiding her smile. Edward's eyes locks with Lauren's and she seems caught off guard, suddenly intimidated. He speaks, says that he isn't attending prom, and then Lauren smirks, evidently satisfied that this means 'no'. But he isn't finished, he looks back to me but directs his words at her. "And neither is Bella." It is insinuating. Lauren attempts to recover with a roll of her eyes, but everyone knows she's annoyed. It is riveting.

It's the next day, and as I enter the school's parking lot, Angela skips toward me with her books clutched to her chest. A sly smile is playing on her face, Angela is a barrier of gossip "Everyone is saying that you and Edward are dating," she informs. I groan in response, pull my backpack over my shoulder and slam my truck's door shut. Angela looks at me, and comments saying that it isn't so bad being linked to someone like Edward—but it is, because I can imagine the whispers; "Not good enough." – "Not pretty enough." – "Pity date." Oh fuck, I am beyond insecure. As the day progresses, I grow more fidgety, pulling threads on my cardigan. Edward is no where in sight—which is odd, usually I see him when switching classes but today he is no where to be found, and I am left to face the myriad of whispers on my own. It is the last class of the day; gym, I hate it and so, just because, I drag my feet as I make my way to my locker… I'm in a bad enough mood, hot cheeks throughout the whole duration of school, curious stares… ugh.

I watch the floor, speckles of black and grey, peppered patterns as my shoes clap against the linoleum. As I reach my destination, I look up, and there he is. Leaned against my locker, eyes shut, foot perched back—such a rebel like stance—unwittingly sexy. I sigh, and I think it is quiet until he opens his eyes, a slow grin on his pink lips. "Missed me?" I shake my head and in a mocking gesture he pouts. "Well that sucks, because I missed you." And at this point his mouth is at my ear again. "Where were you?" I ask. "Around." I roll my eyes, probably the most confident I have managed to appear since he started toying with me, and this causes him to chuckle. "You wouldn't want to know," he relents. I decide that he might be right and so I don't push the subject any further. He waits for me to finish putting my books away and then he grabs my hand rather impatiently. I stare at our joining befuddled and wonder what the hell he is doing. I ask, to which he responds with a smile. He pulls me along the hallway and I am glad that it is conveniently empty. "Skip last period, I want to spend some alone time with you." "Why?" "Isn't it obvious?" he almost snorts. I blush, hating myself for being so transparent as I push a curtain of hair behind my ear. Edward hasn't waited for me to say yes or no, he is just walking with my hand in his, long fingers gripping mine firmly. "I like you." And this is such a simple statement, one that resonates unfamiliarly in my stomach—I like it. "I like you too," I manage. "Good to know." We are outside, my truck parked at the far end, he pulls me toward it. Tells me he's driving, I don't complain and within minutes we are on a damp highway, speeding to somewhere. I ask where we are going and he tells me somewhere where I can lay my head and I begin to panic, this all sounds a little too ominous. I don't want to be with him alone anymore, I fidget, chew my lip and bounce my knees in the hollow of the cab. I don't usually bite my finger nails but now I am and this seems to disgust him. Edward looks over at me and grabs my hands, scorning me, telling me that it's a nasty habit. I shrug. "We're here," he says. Hesitantly I get out of the truck and in a flash he's at my side, lacing his fingers in mine. "Trust me won't you?" He is quite perceptive. "What is this place?" As I look around, we are stepping into a densely packed forest. My heart is beating out of chest—I recall all the dangerous things I've heard that can take place in desolate areas. No one would be able to hear me scream here… is he about to accost me? Fuck, what am I doing? His hand squeezes mine and we come to stop. It is quite beautiful. "I found this place when my car broke down just on the other side of the field. I was so pissed I started walking and walking… smoking." He stops talking to laugh. "Then all of a sudden I'm here and it's so fucking breathtaking, I feel

like a complete pussy for feeling so in awe." He loosens his hand from mine and reached into his jean pocket, pulling out a packet of cigarettes. He catches me eyeing the packet. "You smoke?" "No." "Good," he says. "It's bad for you." I snort at his attempt at humor, to which he pokes my side. "Stop," I whine. "Make me." I swat his hand away and he playfully pokes me on my opposite side, emitting a girlish giggle on my part. He does this again and again and I find myself enjoying the attention, being so flirty and girly—even though it feels foreign. He finally stops and lights up, asks if it bothers me, it doesn't, and so he smokes. He leads me to a clear patch of grass, shadowed by a huge willowing tree. He sits first, back against the bark and softly says, "Sit here." –Here is between his legs, I comply and he pulls me back after disposing his half smoked cigarette. It feels so nice, to in the arms of a boy—I've never had the pleasure and the feeling of a warm chest against my cold back is so sweet. Edward plays with my fingers, notes how small they are in comparison to his, and I almost sigh in contentment as I feel his lips press into my hair. "I can't believe I'm here with you." And I feel as though I am saying this more to myself than I am to him. I feel him tense up. "Don't you feel safe?" "It's not that," I insist. "Just…I don't know." I laugh. "You are you and I am me." "That makes no sense Bella." He speaks so softly, I feel his breath by my ear. It tickles, feels so good. He kisses me behind it gently and I hold back a moan. "Explain to me." "Just…" I begin, but he begins to flutter kisses down my neck, nuzzles me there and his hot breath leaves me blissful. "—you are so… God… stop." Edward chuckles. "Am I distracting you?" He presses a slow kiss into my collar. "Mmm." "But hopefully… it's a good one?" Another slow kiss. "Mmm." "So are you going to explain me?" I leaned back and rested my head on his shoulder. He seemed to approve of this, he muffled a groan into my neck and breathed in. "I think you know." "So let's see… low self esteem?" I nodded so he continued. "Well, maybe I can help you with that…" "It's called self esteem for a reason isn't it?" "Hmm." He moved my hair to one side, trailed his nose down my skin, and I bloomed in anticipation. "Bella, can I kiss you?"

Mute. I nod. And I shift. Angle my face to his. I've never been kissed before and for a brief moment I think that this will be awkward. But it isn't… God no. His hands come around from my sides, caresses my stomach, I pull it in—my breathing heavy. His lips touched mine, a simple brush of lips…one…then two…then three, chaste and sweet and then he pulled back. Leaving me needy… I had assumed tongues would be involved, maybe he thought I wasn't ready. But I knew that I wanted to be. He smiled at me afterward; I could feel the heat in my cheeks bursting to the surface of my skin. Edward stroked me there. It was so gentle, so romantic, I breathed in and until evening came we sat… silently… beneath a willowed tree. A.N: If anyone is reading this… thanks for your time. ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### Chapter: 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. STAMPEDE OF A THOUSAND PULSES 3. Alliance There are a total amount of twenty four students on this field trip, the coach we are riding in is slowly but surely filling up. I stood on the concrete, briefly fascinated with the slug to the right of my shoe, I tapped it with my foot and it stilled—I was too kind to squish it. The rain is spitting, that annoying unsure splutter of water, I would have rather it poured—because indecision was a burden to me. I can hear Mike laughing, he always is, either that or teasing, always doing something that requires involvement or reaction. He bounces around me, drapes a friendly arm over my shoulders. "Ya good Bella?" "As I'll ever be." "Who ya sitting next to?" I'm just about to accept his suggestion of sitting next to him, because I'm more than sure he was about to ask. I don't mind, Mike is amusing at times, juvenile humor that makes me smile, reminds me of childhood—reminds me that life doesn't always have to be so serious. "Bella?" I look up about five inches above Mike's 5'7 frame, and my first kiss is brooding so seriously at us. "Edward," I say. "You promised you'd sit next to me… remember?" His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, chin pointed downward. He ignores Mike, eyes affixed to mine. Mike removes his arm, shrugs and walks toward Jessica. He never has been one to welcome confrontation, Mike is easy going. "Later Bella" "I don't remember that conversation," I say, turning back toward him. "Me neither." Edward removes one hand from his pocket and grabs mine. "But it was all I could think of to get him away from you—either that or I flung you over my shoulder." He smiles satisfied as we walk to the coach doors, his

waits as I take the first step. I know he's eyeing my ass and as I look back in curiosity I'm not surprised that they are placed firmly on my behind. I don't know how to react, I don't blush, I just walk on deck—wondering how on earth and why on earth this boy has chosen to bestow any type of attention on me. I shuffle toward two seats at the front, but Edward steers me further down the isle. "The middle," he tells me. I walk on until I hit a two-seater somewhere near the center. I take the seat nearest to the window and he follows after, we sit in odd silence until he puts a hand on my thigh. "Don't be nervous around me please." "Okay," I say, looking at his fingers, they are long, much longer than mine. They would be creepy if his whole body wasn't so fitting, every part of him is long. I blush then. I think of his private part… was that long too? "What?" he asks. I shake my head as an answer. "Tell me," he whines. My mouth is closed, a shy smile, I want to laugh but I don't—my cheeks just get wider. "Will I laugh or cry when you tell me?" He leans inward, eyes smiling as he looks into mine. I shrug, look out the window, enjoying some level of power, I'll keep this embarrassing thought of long body parts to myself. He pokes me in the ribs and I squirm and then he lets out a quiet chuckle. We are quiet again as the teacher calls our names from a register. As people get seated I note the looks I get, the amazement that Edward is next to me, the further amazement that his hand was on my leg and that he is leaning inward, smiling. I rolled my eyes, huffed, fed up that I was apparently not worthy enough to be sitting next to him. "What now?" he asks. I draw a breath. "Just… people." "People like who?" "Like them." I look down, fiddle with my fingers. "All they do is stare." Edward shrugged, settled back into his seat, closed his eyes. "Then let them." His words come out sleepily. I watch his face as it relaxes, no tension, no nothing. And then he opens one eye and playfully pokes my side again. "Sleep with me Bella." I smile at his cheap innuendo, my eyes close and for the next half an hour… we dream.

We walk into the greenhouse, Mr. Banner informs us of the species of some plant that we're supposed to be aware of, mentions photosynthesis, mentions pollination, mentions the word 'asexual'. Mike makes a joke about Tyler being asexual, waves his fist in the air, and Lauren cackles like it's the most hilarious thing ever. "I bet you five cents that they're doing it," Edward whispers. I choke back laughter. "How so?" "Come on—the lingering stares, the nervous laughter… Lauren is an open book." "You think she's ashamed?" I ask, my interest suddenly raised. "Well, let's see…" He stands behind me, we are at the back of the crowd, no one can pay witness unless they turn. Both of his arms come around me and now he's talking. "Look, she's side eyeing him," he murmurs.

I look on, Lauren has a sucked in lip, Tyler is shifting from foot to foot with arms crossed. I angle my head and talk. "Perceptive," I whisper. "You owe me five big ones," he whispers back. And then he releases me from his embrace as our class is moved on to another area. We hardly talk from then on, Edward is concentrating on Mr. Banner's speech, he answers several questions—it's clear he's an astute student, and every time he talks the whole class seems to hold their breath... I take a moment to laugh at myself, maybe I'm the only one holding my breath—that wouldn't surprise me. We spend a total of twenty minutes in the greenhouse, then Mr. Banner hands out worksheets, asks us to pair off, asks us to complete the whole thing in under ten minutes. I stand alone in a small corner next to an aloe plant, I know I'm supposed to be looking for a partner but I can't move… I watch as Edward pairs up with Ben, feeling a little disgruntled and then Angela walks up to me, rolls her eyes—feigning annoyance and links her arm in mine. "I think Ben has a thing for Edward." "Ben's gay?" Angela giggles. "No Bella, I'm just joking… but he's the one that tapped on Edward's shoulder." "Oh… Why's that?" Angela shrugged. "A one sided bromance?" "Maybe," I chuckle. We hand in our sheet once we're done, Angela is naturally smart, I am somewhat average, together we are the third set of pairs to finish—Edward and Ben are the first. I restrain myself from searching for his face, but Angela seems to be less controlled and she leads me to a bench on the outside of the house. We watch on with adamant interest as Ben talks earnestly to Edward. They both come across as two old men in a field full of teenagers, walking, talking—I envisioned them smoking pipes, smoothing down their lapels. There's a ten minute wait before everyone else is done, tension lifts, kids are ready to be jovial again. Jessica huffs and plummets down next to us. She starts complaining about cramps, Angela offers her a heating pad to which she practically yanks from her bag. Without any worries to whether or not the class can see her pink underwear, Jessica hikes up her coat and slaps the pad on in relief. I'm glad for the distraction, I don't want to be so obsessed with the boy ahead of me, I don't want to be that girl. In no time at all we're all clamoring back into the coach and the whole day seems somewhat of a waste. I don't feel as though I've achieved anything, mentally or physically, I feel stoic. It's as if I'm staring on the other side of a mirror—not really caring that my reflection is doing something else. I suddenly wanted it to be a month ago all over again. Back to when Edward didn't exist, back to when he wasn't even a student here in Forks. Because back then my life was simple, day by day I knew how I was going to feel, I knew no one would really affect me, I knew that I'd be in school, out of school, back home to see dad, in bed with a book by ten. I was boring but I was stable. And now? … Now, I was pivoting on girly girl and fixated fan. "I like Ben," Edward states as he takes his seat next to me. I don't respond, I just look at him as he descends—a slight amount of distaste clouds over me. I'm suddenly irritated. I don't feel like myself and I'm putting full blame on him. "What's wrong?" "Nothing." He raises his brows and then yawns, backs into his seat and speaks. "You gonna sleep with me again?" "I don't think so."

"So I'm guessing your shoulder will be free…" The nerve of him is charming. I try not to show any type of emotion but my face muscles fail me and he takes advantage of this by resting his head near the crook of my neck. I wonder if my bony shoulder is comfortable and then I grow self conscious, wanting to make him comfortable, wanting to hold him. His hair is lemony, a citrus smell, I assume he'd washed it this morning. I am stiff as Mr. Banner goes over our names—checking to see if we are all present, and Edward shifts his whole mass into mine. "You smell like strawberries." "Cheap shampoo," I say. And then he sighs into me, hot breath penetrating my clothes. Without any hesitance I ease him up, he casts a questioning gaze but then grins as I bring an arm around him. He hums as he rests into me, closes his eyes, and falls asleep.

"I know nothing about you." "What do you want to know?" Its past six o'clock, I had told my dad that I was going out with Angela, lying to him was hard but saying that I was going somewhere with a guy would have been harder. My arms are crossed and his hands are in his pockets, our steps are slow, tentative as we walk about Port Angeles. The mall is still open—its late night shopping, everything is open until nine. "Tell me about your family." He puffs, the air whirls visibly from his mouth, reminds me he's a smoker. "Not much to say about them." "If you don't want talk about it…" "It's not that," he interrupts. "…Well maybe it is." He laughs. "Sorry." "No worries… any pets?" He laughs some more. "My mother married my father for his money, my father married my mother for her looks." "Oh." "See… nothing much," he repeats. "You don't like your parents?" I feel bad for asking, because then I know that I'll be delving into something that could possibly be quite private, but I want to know. He takes out a packet of cigarettes, lights one up whilst making sure to keep a comfortable distance. I wonder if this is an unconscious hint, that maybe I shouldn't probe, but I can't help it. I want to know more about him, I want to be the only one who knows. "I took my first line of coke yesterday." I stop walking. "What?" "Cocaine," he says, "—I snorted some yesterday night… it's the reason I was late for school this morning." "Why?" "Why not?" he retorts. "I can do whatever the fuck I want to."

I flinch at his tone, suddenly realizing that I in fact have absolutely no real grip on who he is. Edward runs his long fingers through his already ruffled hair and sighs. He smokes a little harder, sucking at the cigarette, I watch as the paper burns, as the ashes fall. "I didn't mean to snap at you." I remain silent; hug myself in the chill of the evening. Edward smokes another, he seems slightly ashamed of his outburst. "I was in a weird place yesterday night, I just wanted to feel something," he says. "Stuff has been, I don't know, shit at home… I just feel like I don't belong there." He snorts. "I know I sound like some fucked up ungrateful teen." "You don't," I blurt. My hand touches his arm, Edward grins and flings his around me—kisses my hair. "I don't huh?" Dropping his cigarette he continues, "So me taking coke doesn't scare you away?" "Should it?" "I think it should." "Do you want it to?" He smiles. "All I want right now is some ice cream." It's my turn to snort. "In this weather? It's freezing." "I'm a weird guy." Him admitting to taking cocaine didn't scare me, as a matter of fact I felt oddly close to him. It was evident that he wasn't one to spill his guts—all of his secrets were random slips of the tongue. Being with him, felt right, felt as though it was pre-destined and however corny it sounded it was piercingly true. I had a need to be near him, some type of eerie pull. After he finishes his cone he walks me to my truck. Tells me he's meeting someone, when my eyebrow quirks he smirks. "Its not another girl… promise." I bite my lip and start up my tired engine. I wasn't worried about it being another girl. I was worried that he'd snort a line again, but I didn't speak, I was too scared of pushing him away. "So I'll see you Monday?" "That you will Bella." He winks, and it's surprising that he can make such an asinine gesture seem alluring. I back out, drive off and when it's safe to let out my girly sigh, I do. A.N: I vow to get better with the whole 'grammar stuff'… ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### Chapter: 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.

STAMPEDE OF A THOUSAND PULSES 4. Capabilities I remember watching a piece on drug addicts—them explaining the felling of euphoria, that place of utter and complete Nirvana. I wondered if this was what Edward had felt… if he had found what he was looking for. I wondered how it would have felt for me to experience it too. But the scare of becoming addicted, the knowing that nothing to do with drugs never ended prettily, knocked me back into my own reality. Just by thinking about him I began to notice my own compromise—the oddity that I actually wanted to know what a high felt like, wanted to know what he felt like. Given that I knew very little and much of that little was in part ill-omened, I knew that my curiosity was about to pull me only deeper into whatever Edward was drowning in. My concerns for myself replaced with my involvement with him. I couldn't explain it and in all honesty, I didn't want to. The weekend was long, and I had nothing to keep me busy. Homework was done the day it was given, chores were minimal due to dad always working and never being at home, and TV… well that was okay I guess. Maybe my guilty pleasure of reality shows would do me some good. Watching others (besides myself) making complete fools of themselves sounded pretty satisfactory. I went to the kitchen, re-heated some left-overs and sat down on the couch. But as the program progressed, my mind wandered. All I thought about was Edward, what he was doing, what he wasn't doing… I wanted to call him, I wanted him to call me, but that obviously wasn't going to happen—we hadn't even exchanged numbers. The phone rang, causing my heart to beat, fast paced as I near enough slipped on the kitchen floor. I ripped my socks off, chucked them to one side and grabbed the phone. It was Angela. Happy to hear her voice, I listened on—she was bored and in need of a talk. Her date with Ben that Saturday had been awkward. Worries of too many silent pauses, too many clashes in musical tastes, not too many matches in likes and dislikes… "None of that should matter," I comforted. "But shouldn't we at least have one thing in common?" "If you're gonna put your compatibility down to shallow things like music tastes then well… I dunno… this isn't internet dating. I'm sure in time you'll probably see that none of that stuff matters." "Oh come on Bella… we have to have something to talk about!" "You do… you can discuss your tastes, have an argument, a healthy debate. When since have you heard a long term relationship being preserved by hobbies and tastes?" "You sound like my mother." I grunted at that. Too many times I was told that my soul was old. I wasn't too sure if that was a compliment or not. Maybe I was too sensible—but then I thought back to my obsession with Edward—a sensible person would have walked away. "So I'll see you tomorrow," she said. "And I bet you can't wait to see Edwaaaard…" "Oh God, you sound like Jessica." Angela laughed. "Quit evading the subject, he was practically hibernating in your 'warm embrace' on that coach." "Ugh." I cringed. "How bad did it look?" "He definitely came into your bosom…"

"Are you quoting the Bible?" "You two looked like an old married couple… him all rested on your breasted…" "Angela you've been spending entirely too much time with Lauren and Jess. Either that or your love for Ben has dislodged a brain cell." She hummed, her blatant fixation on Ben mirroring mine for Edward. "I think the latter maybe true."

"Take a picture it'll last longer." Lauren turned her back to Tyler, who by now was a slight shade of pink—his tanned skin helping to hide his embarrassment. I don't know what it was with Tyler, although he seemed quite capable of taking care of himself I still wanted to step in and punch Lauren, just for his benefit… "You can be such a bitch at times," he muttered. "Whatever." I pushed my food about my plate, not hungry enough to eat. I felt a little idle, a lot useless. "I'm gonna audition for American Idol." "Good luck with that, they'll have you on top ten worst auditions for sure," Mike joked. "I can sing, Jess knows." I looked up from my food to see Jessica nodding slowly. "Yea, she's got that folksy vibe going for her." "Folksy vibe?" Tyler arched an eyebrow. "Nora Jones, Corrine Bailey Ray, Katie Mellua…" I tried to picture Lauren sitting on a stool with an acoustic guitar… the image wasn't fitting. Lauren was better suited to maybe a faux rocker chick ala Miley Cyrus or part of a high kicking girl group… "Can you sing Bella?" There he was again. Always appearing unannounced. I shook my head. Shower voice seemed like an appropriate assessment. "Nope… whoa," I exclaimed looking at his tray. "Hungry much?" He had a large plate of fries, two slices of pizza, a burger minus the bun, a pudding cup, a jello cup, a bar of candy, a bag of chips and two sodas. He put the candy bar on my tray. "For you," he said. And then he began eating, it was supposed to be ugly watching teenage boys eat—but it was mesmerizing with him. His body was so lean, I was wondering where on earth it was all going. Because whilst I was small I knew that once I binge ate my stomach would expand… "What?" he asked, looking up from his food. "I was just contemplating making little piglet sounds." He chewed with a closed mouth and smirked. "Go right ahead." He sat there awaiting my snorts, his stare expectant. "…Well?" "I was joking." "Joking about what Bella?" Lauren asked, swapping seats with Jessica. "Oh… hey Edward."

I rolled my eyes and forked some lettuce. "Lauren," he greeted. "Only someone so tall could get away eating so much… you're lucky you're so toned," she said pointing to his food. I was still eating my water logged lettuce, listening, waiting for her to say something entertaining, but out of no where I snorted. "A little late Bella," he teased. Lauren looked me over once before turning her attention back to Edward, making small talk. I saw that Tyler was growing more and more fidgety. My pity was full. I went to sit by him. "Hey Ty." "Sup B?" He played unaffected well, but failed when he chanced one more look at the pretty blond at the end of our table. "You not eating?" I guess it was suitable to talk about food around a lunch table. I often thought that obvious conversation was uncomfortable. People would encourage this type of talk, small talk, to evade silence, awkward pauses—this was Tyler and I at that very moment, because the girl he wanted was talking to the boy I wanted—we weren't close enough to admit it but it was evident. Involuntarily I put my hand on his shoulder, and in an instant he understood. Tyler exhaled. "I just don't get her," he mumbled. "I don't think anyone does." "She's not so bad you know… I mean… she has a sweet side." My silence probably answered him better than my speaking ever could. "Honest," he protested. "She's smart too, it's just… I don't know, I think she's scared to show it." "She shows this side with you?" He nodded. "When we're alone." "Maybe if you gave her a little time?" "Yea," he simply replied. He seemed sadder after this. It was amazing what a mutual understanding could do. "So you and the loner huh?" He gestured toward Edward. I spoke sheepishly, "Not really… we're just friends." "Well at least he pays you mind in public." His shoulders drew inward. "Ugh, I'm such a pussy." "Being honest doesn't make you weak, quite the opposite actually." "Not everyone thinks that way B, but thanks." And then Lauren was all of a sudden standing behind me, a look of annoyance on her face. I didn't bother talking, I just got up and left them to be alone…. I failed to see the 'sweet side' he said existed. Love was blind after all. Upon returning to my seat, Edward pulled out my chair, it scraped against the flooring with a harsh screech. His food was half eaten, a grimace on his face. "Don't do that again," he said. "Do what?" I asked, sitting.

"Leave me." His voice grated, a hostile whisper. "Sorry?" I apologized—perturbed. His body language was squared, shoulders hoisted back—he was commanding my apology—his mood morose. It was an anomalous outburst—behaviour completely bi-polar. "You saw that I didn't want to be talked to, you know I don't like talking to them—I sit at this table for you, and you only." I sat there perplexed, every word flying straight over my head, intimidated by the whole exchange. In all my years of growing up I had never had such a baffling exchange with a boy—especially not one that I liked. Edward's face grew stonier by the minute, whilst I grew more confused. Without warning he shoved his plate to one side and walked out of the cafeteria. Lauren and Jessica immediately began whispering, Angela's and Ben's gazes turned to mine—Tyler and Mike ignoring the motions completely… whilst I remained mystified. Angela shuffled down, taking a seat next to me. "Maybe you should go after him?" "I should?" Angela bit her lip. "Lauren was probing, asking some really weird questions." "Like what?" "I think she saw him during the weekend… I couldn't hear much beyond that, she was practically leaning into him, didn't you see?" I shook my head. "I was talking to Tyler." Two minutes into conversation she had convinced me to try and find him, lunch had barely started and so I was aware that Edward had nearly a whole length of a period to get lost. Walking down the halls of our school, I didn't spot him. My foot steps ghosted behind me, it was strange in effect seeing as I was wearing rubber soled sneakers. I quickly put my overcoat on, ready to meet the winter like chill that was about to greet me as I bustled through the school's doors. I looked ahead; he was hard to miss—leaning against my truck. I felt a gust of air escape me. Looking at Edward was almost dreamlike. And however stupid I felt admitting that this boy had such a heavy effect on me, I couldn't ignore the flutters in my stomach. I walked to him, pulling my sleeves over bunched up fists. "I knew you'd come," he said—eyes to the floor as I took my place next to him. He took hold of my hand, it was a firm grip, one that was hard to escape. "I was hoping you would." "What did she say to you?" "She knows the guy I bought from." Immediately I felt a tightening in my chest; I began fretting over all the rumours that could escalate once Lauren decided to circulate them. "Did she see you—" "—no… but, she was just asking about how I knew him, where I knew him from… I didn't like it." He played with my fingers, his thumb and forefinger tugging at them. "I kept looking to you, but your back was turned." "But what could I have done?" "You just being there… that's all you needed to do." I laced my fingers in his. "I'm here now."

Nothing else was said. I wasn't sure anything else could have been. We stayed there, same positioning, until he pulled me into him, my back rested against his front. It was strange enough that he had admitted to wanting me around, and as I felt his face curve into the crook of my neck I couldn't help but hum at the bliss his being bestowed onto mine.

It's 12.06am. My cell phone buzzed at my side, awaking me from a light sleep. It was him. We had only just exchanged numbers early that week. "Edward?" I answered hazily. "Fucking rang for ever." "I was sleeping—" "—fucking answer when I call… what if, what if I was out here dying? Dead on a fucked up street corner." I sat up; vaguely pissed. "What's wrong?" "I don't fucking know… just, just so shaky. I'm shaking… shaking everywhere and i-i-its getting worse… fuck." "Did you use?" I couldn't bring myself to further the sentence, the thought of him becoming addicted to coke was so unnerving. "About two hours ago. Bella… can I? ….Oh fuck." I heard his voice tremor down the line, the volume breaking in and out of earshot. "Edward?" "I can't… I can't… p-please just come get me." "Where are you?" "Our meadow." He refused to hang up. I had to figure out how to be back in time for my dad's return—his shift at the station finishing at 1.30am. Without bothering to regard my appearance I ran outside to my truck, no coat, no proper shoes, just my house slippers and a soft pair of flannels. I drove over the speed limit, surprised at my skill as I sped, surprised that I could remember where exactly 'our meadow' was in the dark lit roads that littered up toward the foresting areas. He stood, slumped slightly on the side of the road that boarded the outskirts. Head in hands. Shaking still. "I'm here," I said jogging to his side. "Make it stop," he said. "I don't like it." I couldn't do anything but hold him. "It'll pass." I hoped it would, I prayed it would. Thankfully it did as he fell into slumber in the hub of my cab. I drove just as fast as I had on the way down, arriving at my house within half an hour of leaving the meadow. "Where are we?" he asked sleepily. "My house." He stepped unsteadily out of the truck. I rushed to his side allowing him to place an arm around me. I knew by now that he would probably have been fine, tired maybe, depressed mostly—but I still allowed myself to be a human crutch. "We're going inside?"

I stopped walking. "If you want to?" Edward's head turned, and he focussed his gaze to mine. "I want to," he replied softly. There was something so honest in his voice, broken in delivery. I tried to smile, tried to show him that I wanted him there also—but something other than the need to be there stayed with me. The knowing that this anything but good. Would he be a constant source of trouble for me? "My dad comes home soon, so you'll have to be quiet, even more so in the morning…" As we walked with our arms around one another I somehow managed to open the door and shyly I led him upstairs to my bedroom. He walked in, eyeing the bed with the comforter thrown to one side—and without any hesitation began removing his boots, jacket, shirt and jeans. It was as if he had been waiting to collapse, waiting to fall asleep under warm covers. The weirdest thing was that Edward Masen was standing in my room half naked. I stared at him in utter bewilderment. Long slim limbs, the dim light from my window seemed to bounce off his body hair—the most visible being the trail that started at the edge of his belly button. His pelvic bones were so defined—something that I was unaware could be so jutting and out there… I liked it… and the thought of being so near to it made me red… His muscles were soft, the natural hue of his skin tone downplaying their definition. Edward wasn't a muscle man, he was a lean teenaged boy—one that was about to get into my bed… "I'm so tired," he murmured, eyes drooping in admittance. Had this been any other boy I would have been so sure of that to have been a line—but in this case, it was truth. Edward didn't wait for me to give permission. Without another word he slowly made his way to my empty single bed. Shifted all the way to one end and laid on his back, leaving an arm outstretched—I saw a whisk of underarm hair and wondered if it would tickle. "Sleep with me Bella," he softly said. Gingerly I climbed in next to him, still in my flannels, feeling over dressed as I rested on him. "Are you okay?" I asked. "Now that you're near... I'm just—" His eyes fluttered closed. "—I'm just fine Bella." Little did I know that rescuing him would become a common occurrence—my time irrevocably would become his—my need for him almost as strong as his for whatever narcotic was current. As he slept, I stared, feeling creepily content… I knew this was wrong, I knew I shouldn't be having half naked-drug addicted-teenaged boys in my bed—but this was bliss for me… and in that admission I felt sick. Sick to my stomach because I knew how warped my sentiments were. The situation was far from romantic, it was dire. I was just a seventeen year old girl, not an aged clinical psychologist. But its funny what fascination does to you, makes you believe that the closer you get the less harmful your fixation becomes. Edward was harmless. He was just hurting. I had convinced myself of that—that I could help—he wanted my help after all—otherwise he wouldn't have called. All these reasons led me to believe that I was capable. I was capable of being there, I was capable of coping with him, I was capable of caring for him and most frightening of all… I was capable of loving him. A.N: I am aware that this fic is quite dramatic. Forgive my emo. Thanks for reading. ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### Chapter: 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. STAMPEDE OF A THOUSAND PULSES 5. Mainstay I quickly assessed myself in the bathroom mirror, I wasn't puffy or grey, hair was slightly tousled but surprisingly my appearance was okay… okay wasn't good enough for most I suppose, but when it was the best you had ever seen of yourself, okay was what had to be considered as tolerable. Everything was baffling, because the notion of being without his interest was abruptly unspeakable. I had grown akin to him wanting me—it was now something I was comfortable with—even if I wasn't sure as to why. Suddenly it didn't matter. I travelled down the hall to slip my father's bedroom door open; Charlie was knocked out cold, heavy with sleep and snoring. I made my way back to my room. Edward was awake. "Hello," he groggily offered, a sheepish look on his face. Was it possible for someone to look so good in the morning? He was drowsy—but he was just as handsome, sexy even... I sucked in a quiet breath, feeling inane as I sat on the edge of my bed. "Hey." He reached forward, tugging at my sleeve. "Come here." I crawled up to him and he pulled back the covers allowing me to get beneath them. "I apologize for the morning breath," he gibed, curving an arm under my head. "I must look a mess." "You were one last night." Word vomit. "I guess morning breath is the least I should apologize for." He did his best to face me. "I'm sorry; I put you through hell last night." "Hell is a little much, but it was scary seeing you like that." "I know… I'm sorry." He didn't say anything else. We laid there still for the longest while. It was only four in the morning, we had at least two more hours before we'd need to get ready. His breathing was steady, the warmth of his body next to mine pleasant. "How long of a drive is it to school from here?" he asked breaking our lengthy silence. "Ten, fifteen minutes." I lay there, feeling unattractive but somehow not caring, because he was here—looking the way he did—with morning breath and floppy hair… He was so beautiful, and again that admission resonated as ridiculous, and again I couldn't be bothered enough to care. "You owe me nothing, but I owe you big." He rolled back onto his side, still managing to face me, cosily snowed in with many fluffy comforters. "It's okay." "It really isn't," he said, staring at me thoughtfully. Resting back he looked to the ceiling. A cringe came about his visage, and he shot up—mood abruptly altered. "I need to get dressed." He walked to the chair where his clothes were placed and began to dress. "I'll meet you at school, I've got to do something—see someone…" He looked at me. "Not another girl… promise." "Why do you say that?"

"Say what?" "About it not being another girl." He pulled his shirt over his head, walked, sat at the very edge of my unmade bed—it was as though he feared soiling my spreads with his day old robes. "Because, just in case you think of seeing another boy… You'll remember that I'm here… not seeing other girls." "Okay." "Good," he whispered. "I have to go now." And I watched on as he left. Down the stairs, out the door, pass our drive… gone. And my heart beat slowed as I laid back into bed, inhaling the pillow he rested his head on, missing him… and all his plight.

I drove into the school's parking lot, eyes darting about the area to see if I could spot him. I couldn't. I got out, went into the building, hunched shoulders as I walked with a heavy backpack. The straps lifted, strong hands grabbing it from my body. "Let me," he said. I allowed Edward to take my bag, eyeing his change of clothes and damp hair. He walked me to the door of my first class, half of the students were present—including Jessica Stanley. She waved and I waved back, Edward smirked and walked me to my table. "You good?" I nodded as he handed me my bag. "Thank you." "I owe you much more remember?" And then he left. "O.M.G." Jessica. Who else? She scurried to my side, slamming a palm to the table telling my regular table mate that a swap was in motion. "What does he owe you for?" I palmed my face at her dramatization. "Nothing Jess." "Liar! ... Hand job? Blow job? Did you let him—" "—oh my God… No!" Trust her to be so abrupt and in my face. I wondered if she realized that we weren't particularly close, and I struggled to remember when she got so vulgar. "So what, he just… likes you?" "I don't know Jessica… why don't you go and ask him." She rolled her eyes. "Don't be so defensive, I was just asking." Thankfully the teacher came, thankfully we began working and thankfully Jessica stopped talking.

I really wanted to escape lunch. Lunch was where all of us came together, the whole 'crew' so to say would sit, eat and gossip—because gossip was what teenagers as well as old women knew best. Lauren had oddly taken a seat next to me. Smiling sweetly she spoke, "Where's Edward?" "Idon'tknow." I made sure to say this as quickly as possible. I aimed my eyes toward the lunchroom doors, feeling set to make a run for it. Maybe it was because I was nearing my time of the month, hormones causing a malarkey of emotions—mostly embarrassment. I was quite possibly blowing the whole thing out of proportion; a little attention

on my former lack lustre life couldn't be so bad. "You should have seen her face! Red as a beet!" Thank you Jessica Stanley. "Ah, come on Bella, its so obvious you like him." "Aw, isn't that precious." I didn't know if I should have smiled at Lauren or punched her. Edward was late, or in hiding, I couldn't really determine either at this point. I looked to the corner he had previously eaten his lunches at… empty, and so yes, he was late—or in hiding. My knees began to bounce under the table, I concentrated rather adamantly on my food. Trying my best to remain unaffected… despite the L&J third degree. I was so happy that Mike and Tyler were rolling their eyes, bored stiff by the conversation already… Angela was too wrapped up in Ben. Leaving me alone, chewing manically. "Edward!" Jessica all but yells. He gives her a stare of pure bewilderment and takes a seat next to me. "Hey." "Hey." No words, just food. As I ate, he did also, it was as if we were in a perfect sync, the both of us not really knowing how to react to each other. I kept contemplating the consequences of the previous night. Looking at him now it was funny to think that I had seen him sans shirt… pants… socks—Edward had huge feet. "What?" he asks, mid chew. I shake my head, because he isn't smiling at me—he looks annoyed. Edward leans inward. "You're blushing." I duck so my hair covers me. I could feel my cheeks getting hotter but I didn't have any particular inkling as to why. I wasn't thinking anything vaguely sexual—feet weren't sexual. "Sorry." "Why are you constantly apologizing?" I looked at him then. "I don't know." "Well stop it. Please." His brows furrowed and unexpectedly he brought his fingers up to my cheek, brushed my hair behind my ear. "No hiding." "Okay." Edward smiled. Held my hand under the table. I had to switch hands and pick my sandwich up with left. It was difficult—but holding his seemed a lot more satisfying than the dry ham sandwich I was currently (trying) to eat. "Jessica asked me if I gave you a blow job today." Oh God. Oh why… why did I just say that? He stopped eating, looked at me with raised eyebrows and then in the direction of Jessica. "Really?" And he said this with a hint of laughter in his tone. I couldn't determine whether that humor was directed at me or her. "And what did you tell her?" "I er… I didn't. I mean, I said no."

Edward squeezed my fingers. "She's staring at us, probably knows your talking about her." I looked her way only to witness the whirl of her head as she spoke to Mike. "I was joking," he whispered, a smirk on his lips. "…Eat."

I didn't see him for the rest of the day—whether that was good or bad, at present I couldn't determine. I knew I missed him and I hoped that he missed me. When I got home I read the note Charlie had left. Be back early tonight. Dad. I pulled the fridge door open, dragging out pre-marinated meat, happy that I wouldn't have to work too hard and put it in the oven. Charlie arrived by evening, ate, kissed my forehead, watched TV. I stood by the side of the couch, waiting for him to say something. "You okay Bells?" "Yea dad, I'm okay." I took that as my cue to leave. I was listless. I roamed about my room, brushing my feet along the carpet as I went. I eyed my phone on the bed. Bit my lip. Fingers tapped along the side of my thigh. I sat and tapped at the tiny buttons. Edward - miss you - Bella. I hit send, not waiting for a second thought, trying to be spontaneous, trying to be brave. Would it be so odd for a girl to send a bout of affection? To make a move? I hoped not. I hoped I didn't appear desperate. Something told me that I wouldn't though, that may he would appreciate my honesty. Bella - I'm smiling - Edward I fell to my bed, stifled giggles as I clutched my phone. Could simple words turn a sane girl into a daft one? It didn't matter. I made him smile. I knew what that felt like—to be happy because someone said something right. Pensively I tried to conjure up something else to text. I wanted to continue talking. What are you up to? Knowing that he had another life outside of school, I knew I was being intrusive. Maybe Edward was with his drug addict cronies, high as kites, smoking God knows what… but I wanted to believe he was at home, in bed, thinking of me. Nothing, you? Ditto. I think about you, a lot. Ditto. There was an interval of fifteen minutes. Too long for my liking. I worried what he could be up to. I was becoming stalker-ish. I fretted if my one worded answers were off putting but I had always thought that less conversation was better than a ramble of sentences when it came to boys. Less was more. I hoped so at least. I detested myself for game playing—because at first this was never a deliberate intention—I only wished for him not to think bad of me—to not feel superfluous. I didn't want to be like the girls at school, vying for attention, I wanted to be desired not overlooked. Edward was the first attractive boy to make me feel that way. My cell phone buzzed. I answered. "Edward?"

"I wasn't sure. Wasn't sure if I should call you or not." "I wanted you to." "Good. Because I wanted to." I smiled timidly—despite the absence of an audience I felt self conscious. The thought that I was hiding my infatuation with a boy under my father's roof made me feel guilty. We talked. Talked for hours. Past the evening hours, into the night and early morning. I had never felt so compelled to ask and ask and ask. To want to know, to dig up information that wasn't meant to be dug at… at least not in the time period we had. It was nearing a month… we were moving along vastly. Each day was another chance to meet, touch, talk. Since he had moved to Forks there had hardly been a day in which we wouldn't interact. Had I not been a part of it I would most likely have been one of the gossipers—I would have been green of myself. Happy that this was me, happy that he was fixed, I began craving his stare, his voice… him. Was I becoming obsessed? Yes. And I wasn't even aware of it. In the moment I had thought that this was just an infatuation, a crush, something that would or could evolve into love. Obsession never crossed my mind. I wasn't a rabid fan. Trite things like his dress sense didn't grip me… I was a solid girl… or so I thought. Days turned into mimes of dream like realities. I had painted so many pretty outcomes for us. A simple hand holding under the lunch table would become an embrace under the stars, an impish wink from him would become a soft slow kiss. I was writing out my own story book. Edward was my suitor—the prince to the pauper, that was me. I think out of all of this, the only veracity kept was that I was still ordinary—nothing—most likely replaceable. But that was the beauty of all these fantasies… he kept me nonetheless. "Bella, have you ever ran away from home?" "No... Why? Are you thinking to?" Edward paused, causing me to court worry. If he were to run, where would he hide? I questioned his friends; he didn't seem to have anyone solid. "If you were to run with me, I think I'd be alright." I grinned disbelievingly. I knew by now that he had a tendency to say things that were wistful—it would later become a staple in our exchanges. "And where would we run to?" "Paris." "Why there?" "Because it is where lovers roam." "Lovers?"

"Lovers," he repeated. "I can tell you love hard Bella, you're just like me." "I am?" "You are. We attach ourselves—find it hard to withdraw once we learn of it." Even then he knew me, and at seventeen... Looking back, I wouldn't have been so swift to brush off the likelihood of him mocking me. He knew I wanted him. He knew I'd be there. I couldn't be mad though, getting mad at truth was pointless. It would do nothing to set me free—because I enslaved myself. I tied myself to him… and for so many years. I am hazy. Still hazy. Clock hands undetectable. I can't differentiate the times. The moments. The places. I can't conclude the journey because I was never aware I was travelling. I was never away that time was being taken from me—given to him and used… used up to serve a demise that would result in the inevitable. Had I worsened him? I live with the guilt of thinking I did. My Edward. My sweet faraway Edward. Boys like him; they were one in a million. They grew to become men of a philosophical disposition, romantics—sometimes they grew to become indecisive. Logic was present but only when emotion was not involved. And this is what set off those binges. The hard questions, the ones that made him think. Edward was scared of making those choices. All his life his parents had made them for him. The old money. The requisite education. The expected livelihood. Had he just realized that being him was okay, that being atypical was wonderful… maybe the confidence would have been there. The need for an escape would be gone. I would have met a boy who was sure of his goings and he would still be the one I fell for. We would be better off, or at least he would be. "You'll help me won't you?" "Help you what?" "Runaway." He let out a soft sigh, said something about how beautiful I looked the closer he got... "Be my mainstay Bella… And I promise… I'll try my best to be yours." A/N: Them 'running away' — just so there's no confusion, isn't meant to be literal. Emo, remember? ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### Chapter: 6

A/N: Double post time as I failed to update last week. Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. STAMPEDE OF A THOUSAND PULSES

6. Acceptance. The weekend came and I grew anxious. Edward had called me every night since. We talked until morning came, and my face showed its weariness. He had a strange habit of keeping me on line whilst he went about his business—whilst he ate dinner, whilst he did his homework, whilst he was using the toilet—yes, even then. And I would stifle giggles as I heard him piss, it was so odd to think he did that, someone as pretty as he. Ridiculous. It was coming around to 8pm; I looked at my cell phone expecting it to ring at any moment. I waited half an hour more, still staring, not moving. He hadn't called me yet. As another hour passed I felt my eyes drooping. I had read the first three paragraphs of Beloved, five times over, not being able to grasp it as I had when it was first read. I struggled not to think of all the things that could be occupying his time. I didn't want to be a worrier, or a doubter, or angst ridden. I just wanted to hear his voice again—because it was the one thing that made me smile. I liked being on the end of his line doing absolutely nothing, and it was a stupid thing to admit, but I guess it was safe to say that I was a stupid girl… It was almost as if we were together, in the same room. It was our way of postponing moments apart. When it reached 10.07 my phone buzzed. "I told my parents that I met a girl." "Edward," I said. "I told them that you're coming to dinner… tomorrow evening." "Oh? Okay?" "Yea… I was meaning to tell you before but I guess I just assumed you'd be fine with it." "I'm fine." I think. "Good, I'll pick you up tomorrow around 5." It was a strange notion, knowing that he had pre-planned my day for me, knowing that if I said no he would have probably thrown a fit… I would never say no. Not to him. And when I went to sleep that night I thought of all the ways I could please him. Impress his parents, make him happy… because now, that was all that mattered. Tomorrow came and I was ready. I was dressed, in a dress, the only dress I owned, because I figured that his mother was one who would appreciate me looking the way I looked right now. I curled my hair and put on mascara, I wore strawberry balm on my lips. I wished I had more know-how in the makeup department, because whilst I was a novice I had always admired the shiny clean look that all those starlets achieved. I wore shoes—with heels, a mere two inches but still, heels were intact and I could walk reasonably well. Like I said, I was ready. But when I opened the door to his face he stared at me oddly. "What are you wearing?" I looked down. "Don't you like it?" He came in, eyes still on me as he turned around and shut the door himself. Instinctively I let my body follow his gaze, my form was magnetized to his glare. "You're in heels," he said. I nodded and then he smiled and so in turn I smiled, and my uncertainty over whether or not he would find me satisfactory dissipated. "I like what you're wearing." "Yea," he began, "kinda dorky huh?"

I eyed his seam pressed slacks, his shirt, shiny leather shoes, and took a breath. "Not on you," I replied. And his grin was radiant. "Come on." He offered me an arm. "This is what dorks do right? Give the lady their arm." I smiled shyly. "I like dorks." "Well in that case, consider me the dork master."

It wasn't what I expected. I had known that his family were well off, but their house was fairly normal—the only sign of money was that of the generous extension at the back, and as I was told by Edward—his room, the converted attic. The outside was groomed to a perfection, trimmed hedges and three cars, including his lined up in the drive. He explained that he had crashed his car prior to moving to Forks, said I was the first to ride in it. The door to their home was heavy, solid mahogany and indented. In the center of the hall laid a lone cherry wood table, adorned with an urn like vase of orchids. I sneezed as we passed them. "I hate those shits," he muttered, "And people are so quick to call them beautiful… did you know they are parasites? They can only grow on the back of something else." "But they are pretty," I murmured before sneezing once more. "Anything that causes you agro angel is anything but." I liked that he had called me that. We stared at one another, our regular stare, our obsessed stare—until a clearing of a scratchy throat interrupted. A man, an older man, possibly his father. "You must be Isabella," a throaty monotone—one that was an echo of Edward's when his mood caught gloomy. I shakily extended a hand, tried to appear confident. "Pleased to meet you." My voice took on a bizarre high pitched timbre, I cringed but Edward's hand warmed the sink of my back, relaxing me a little. "Like wise dear," he replied. "Edward, I just have to make a quick call. I'll see you both at the table, excuse me." I watched as he departed. He was tall with a slightly protruding stomach. His hair just as messy as Edward's, only a silver hue of bronze—quite beautiful, and he was, and if I were to have been attracted to an older man, it may have been Edward's father. "Why are you looking at him like that?" I turned to look up, grinned as impishly as I could. "He's almost as cute as you." "Well that's… disturbing." I bumped him playfully as he took my hand, led me toward the kitchen. His mother, in all her homemaking glory stood bent over by the oven. I was introduced briefly, my eyes mulling over her fine face, her petite stature, and in an instant I felt as though I was the lowest common denominator. She smiled tightly with me, gave a momentous look to her son and told us dinner would be ready in ten minutes.

It started well. We talked about school, and I had learnt that Edward was much more gifted than he had let on. I felt proud, oddly so, and distant. Every now and again he would squeeze my thigh, allowing me to know that I was doing okay. But then his mother grew weary, said something less than forthcoming about the nature of our relationship and he blew up. "That is none of your business mom."

Mrs. Masen grew hot, her ears turning red. "You are still a minor… and so is she." Mr. Masen rubbed his chin, his forehead wrinkled in lethargy. "Honey, calm down." She ignored him, eyes staring pensively into her son's. "Well? I mean we might as well hash this out." She used her manicured nails to poke at the wood of the table, defining each word with each poke. "One moment we find you in your room convulsing from God knows what, and the next you crash you're brand new convertible that I spent so damn long picking out… oh and let's not forget you almost getting a grown woman…" I stiffened, knowing fully well that sentence only ended in strife. I turned to look at him. "Bella, I was… that was… it was a long time ago." "You were sixteen Edward," his mother noted. "Sixteen. And now you bring home a girl who quite honestly looks as though she hasn't the vaguest clue…" His father sighed loudly. "Enough." "I can't do this." Abruptly she got up from the table, flinging her napkin onto her seat. "I can't pretend that this is remotely healthy, that I should be all smiles and sunshine just because he's met some… girl." Edward's jaw clenched, he gnawed at his lip, a fluster of pink adorning his cheeks. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "My son is unstable Isabella. Didn't he divulge this detail to you?" Nothing about her tone was gentle, it was stringent. I looked toward him, bewildered. Something inside of me felt at fault. Like I had pushed my way into his heart, like I shouldn't have. I spoke quietly, "Its okay," I offered. And then Mrs. Masen rolled her eyes, doubting my seriousness. Mr. Masen looked on pensively, pulling his wife's form back down into her chair. Edward spoke, "I should take you home."

In the car, silence ruled. I feared talking, because I could tell that he was angry—embarrassed. His brow was furrowed, his mouth pressed and shut tight, I didn't want to add to his worries. Thankfully he spoke up, a murmur, barely audible above the hum of the car's heater, "My mother's a bitch." I wasn't expecting that. "My father doesn't even love her." I remained quiet. "And she most definitely does not love him." I began playing with my fingers. "She's in love with someone else. I know she is, but she doesn't know that I know. And she's too scared to file for a divorce—she knows she'd walk away empty handed—my father's lawyer will see to that." He stopped talking for a while. Drove. Drove languidly. "I don't want to take you home just yet. I want to explain." "Okay," I said. I swallowed, feeling heavy already.

"When I was sixteen, I met this girl… well, woman… She, we… we fucked." I winced. "It didn't mean anything. It was what it was—nothing. And I was young and I thought I was just having fun… nothing more." He ran his fingers through his messy mane, drawing a long breath. "We kept messing about, for like two or three months and it was almost like a daily thing, at least two or three times a week. And then… then she calls me over to her place, we get high together, we have sex, and she tells me she's pregnant." I physically feel as though I needed to heave. My chest tightened at the prospect of him being a teenage father—especially with a grown woman irresponsible enough to encourage a drug habit. I hated her already. "So I just freeze. I fucking freeze and then I panic. And do know what she does? She just sits there and laughs, like its nothing, like a baby wouldn't do anything, make anything different. I don't even ask if she's gonna keep it, because abortion—convenient or not—is like, fucking murder… if you think about it." I thought about it. "And she confirms my sentiments because she's more than a couple weeks along and there's this body growing inside of her body and its altogether fucked up and wonderful in the worst sense… I sit down next to her and I'm so pathetic that I smoke a little more weed to stop the pounding in my chest. "I decide that I'm going to tell my father, and I do. He's a lot calmer than my mother and he even offers to pay for her medical bills, and he does. We wait seven months and she has the baby… she has a baby girl… and fuck me if she wasn't the prettiest looking baby girl I ever saw… Bella, I was so stuck." I whispered, hesitantly asking, "So what happened next?" "The baby looks nothing like me." I sit as swerves into park and turned the engine off. Edward laughs sadly. "She's fucking beautiful but she looks nothing like me. And so my father pays for a paternity test…" I already knew what was coming, I touched his arm. "She strung me along, knowing that it wasn't mine, putting me through all that shit, I mean, I was a kid…" He still was. "I don't think mom ever forgave me. It's the reason we moved here. To start anew, but who are we kidding? My mom is unfaithful and my dad works himself into the ground just so he can ignore us, and to top it off their only son is fucked up… we're… fucked." I didn't care. "I still want you," I murmured. My head was down, my fingers were laced and it was as if I was almost too scared to admit it. He smiled a slow smile. "You do huh?" I nodded. "I'll fuck you up too." "You don't know that."

"You don't know that." I shrugged. He smiled. We didn't care. "Do you want me?" "Hell yea," he gently replied. "I want you." And those three words ignited my bones. I leaned inward and kissed him once. I was brave enough to do so, because at this point I knew he wasn't. "I'll take you home," he said. And when he walked me to my door he placed a soft kiss on my cheek. "Good night Bella."

I walked through the yellow and white doors feeling stagnant. I could see Emmett at the front desk, a deep dimpled smile on his face—no doubt the cause of that was the strawberry blond at his side. I waved once he looked up, walking as steadily as I could. "Hey there Bella," he greeted. "Hello." "He's waiting for you." He nudged my side and gave me a sly wink. The blond smiled at me generously. "You must be Bella, you're all Edward talks about." "Oh, yea, well …" I stuttered. "I better go see him, his soup might get cold." I held up the flask full I prepared. "Excuse me." My legs dragged, my muscles stiff. Edward smiled his beautiful smile when he saw me, I melted in my haggard state, smoothed down my creased shirt. "Hello angel," he rasped. "Hey," I replied, stroking the back of his neck. I took a seat next to him. We were in the rec. room, pool tables, a large flat screen and a book case with various titles filled the large space. "I brought you some like you asked," I said holding up the flask. He grinned. "Thank fuck, I've been wanting some all day." "You look a lot better." And he did, his skin was brighter, his eyes sharper, but then again, Edward at his worst was still a picture. "Yea?" He blushed a little. "I shaved for you, tried to look a little more presentable… especially since last time." "You looked fine last time." "Ah come on Bella, I was in week old pajamas and a beard." "I liked it," I teased. "You make anything look good."

He smiled, opened up the flask and began chugging the soup down. I held back my chuckles, he looked like a starved man downing his last meal. When the flask was half empty he put an arm around me. "I miss you, so much. Being here, makes me realize how much I miss you… I can't wait until everything is right." "Me too," I murmured. We stayed hugged up on the rec. room's couch, other people mulling about the place. Emmett came by, mentioned something about wanting to say his goodbye's before his shift ended—attached to his hip was the blond from before. She mirrored his speech, smiling at us as we held onto one another for dear life. When they left I looked up to speak, "Who's the blond?" I asked. "Oh, she started working last week. Emmett is really into her, she seems nice enough." "Is she a nurse?" "Yea," he lazily replied. "Can we just hold each other? All I do here is talk." He chuckled. "Everyone wants to talk here… it gets old, especially those therapy sessions." ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### Chapter: 7

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. STAMPEDE OF A THOUSAND PULSES 7. Covetousness It's hard to say I didn't enjoy this. He stares at me knowingly as we pass each other. Its three steps before I pass him and his hand brushes against my stomach, across my hip and then when that is over he maintains eye contact. He doesn't even care that people are staring, he doesn't give a shit about how it will make us look… how it will make me look. But truth be told—in the moment, neither do I. I look down feeling coy and make my way to my locker. Jessica is at my side in an instant. "You guys are like PG porn." She takes in my heightened blush and rolls her eyes continuing, "It's not a big deal, I mean, well it is, but why are you acting like the Virgin Mary…" She trails off, staring at Edward as he chews his gum and chucks something into his locker. "I mean, I so definitely would…" She is drooling. It's disgusting. "Then why don't you," I mutter. She turns to me, an arched brow. "So you guys aren't together?" "I don't think so." Not yet anyway. She seems incredulous. "So he just felt you up for no reason what so ever?" I chew my lip, worried that I look loose, promiscuous…he didn't 'feel me up' he just… touched me. "He's… I don't know… we're… friends?"

"You don't sound too sure." "Whatever." I answer her flustered, pinked cheeks, finding the inside of my locker suddenly interesting. When lunch came, I contemplated hiding. It was just one of those days for me. I was at best awkward—my moods changing, never really hyped, a weird sort of melancholy that somehow always left my personality paring on dull. I knew I wasn't bubbly. Better this than fakery, right? The library was sufficient enough. I'd have to hide my bag of chips under the table but that didn't bother me… I could read Jane Eyre and daydream about a just as melancholy suitor such as Edward… How appropriate. "Please tell me you're not avoiding me." He sat at my side, sneaking a hand under the library table to take a chip for himself. He crunched and smiled; I returned the gesture but then ignored him, doing my best to re-re-re-read what I had re-read way too many times prior. Edward pushed a finger beneath my book, ducked his head to read the title. "God, I saw the movie version of that with Orson Wells. Probably the dullest shit I've had the pleasure of watching." I like this side of him. The side that resonates status quo when it came to teenage nonchalance… I don't know if it was the way it was said it but he made me laugh, a quiet snigger. "Charming." "You like it?" He stole another chip. "Makes me feel normal," I replied. "How so?" "Well… you've seen the movie, you should know." "I know that Jane was boring and her fancy man was an ass." I laughed again, because he was right and because I was boring. "Fancy man?" "The dude with my name." "You mean Edward." "Right." "Well, each to their own…" He sat there, slouching in his seat as I read, and for all of three minutes it had been silent. Comfortably silent. Since sharing my bed with him, every exchange we had since then had felt… comfortable, somewhat… I expected his touch, no longer jumpy. "You're nothing like Jane, Bella… she romances tragedy; I don't think someone like you could celebrate something so dismal." And then he shifted a little closer toward me, pushed my book down, stroked my skin with long fingers. The week prior he had confided something quite damaging to me—the drugs—his family—the lack of feeling wanted—the wanting to escape. For all his forwardness, I sensed insecurity. Him telling me that he didn't approve of a romantic tragedy, him telling me he took coke to feel something. I wanted him to feel something… something good. And I felt so bad for doing what he blatantly disagreed with… romanticizing him. He brushed his nose down my cheek, causing the school's librarian to clear her throat. I wondered if she saw us eating too. "Let's go somewhere," he whispered.

"No." "Please?" I had to at least try and deny him this, because every time we went somewhere I was left feeling slightly tilted, willing to do what ever the hell he would have wanted, despite his warning... And when I went home, I realized how frightening that prospect could be. I was involving myself with a guy who clearly had issues. But we all knew I was a weakling. His voice grew throaty. "You don't want to go anywhere with me?" I didn't answer. "Come on Bella…" His hand cupped the back of my neck, soft strokes of his fingers, gentle massages as he spoke, "I really want to kiss you again… it's been a while don't you think?" He was speaking slowly, and it was so sensual, low whispers in my ear, and knowing that he wanted to kiss me again left me feeling slightly dazed. "I'm not skipping class," I managed. "Okay." "And I'm not doing anything I don't want to." Lies. "Okay." "Where do you want to go?" "Anywhere," he said, "Just somewhere with less people, preferably just you and I." Grabbing my hand, he pulled me up and away, out the door, down the hall, into the school parking lot, behind the school building. I ended up with my back to a wall, him in front. A closed mouthed smile on his lips, he rubbed my sides, buried his face into my collar. I wasn't sure what to do and so I stood there frozen, hands against the half dead brick work of the wall, eyes to the sky. Edward's nose trailed up and down my neck, his lips laying soft kisses beneath my ear. I didn't want it seem like he was affecting me but I was inexperienced, my mouth was agape, eyes shut—I couldn't help it. There was always a point in books, where electricity would jolt through you reading the first touch of a lover's breath, finger tips… lips. I can distinctly remember breathing inward, wanting to know what it really felt like, trying to imagine if in reality that those feelings were tangible or if the words written were all a part of manipulating my senses. At this point, I shivered, because his lips were so good to me, so slow on my skin, tentative, and my knees did indeed buckle. I was left feeling stupid in my stupor… this was such a chestnut of a scene, written in the pages of a raunchy novel, and lightening was welcomed to strike me if I lied and hid the feelings bubbling up in my stomach. "You're so soft," he murmured. He wasn't my boyfriend. I had always been traditional enough to guess that the first guy to ever seduce me would have by now made it official. Yet here I was, sneaked away from the rest of the world, with a boy I had known for only a month and a bit, and his tongue was trailing up my throat. This wasn't like when he was in my bed, this wasn't innocent, this wasn't comforting. It was hedonistic. "Bella..."

I wanted to inhale, but it was so hard, if I took in oxygen now I was more than sure I would sound ridiculously out of breath. Edward stood straighter, his gaze meeting mine, a slow lick of pink lips. I desperately wanted to kiss him. He brought a thumb to my mouth, tracing its shape, eyes pensively detailing every contour. I had my stare affixed to his hooded eyes, even then the green was pretty…a mixture with pale blue, clear like the sky. His face was poetry and it made me feel unworthy. He was a man to me. I wondered if Edward had lived a life beyond him. To make a girl feel this way was more than just her being virginal. Even a virgin could roll her eyes at lame attempts; a virgin could tell when something was deficient. I could sense this. I knew he knew what he was doing to me—stomach flutters and burning skin. I could feel it in his touch; his words were tight, tight but evocative. He could do so much with his mouth, speak, smile… kiss. He brought his eyes to mine. Blacker, dilated, drugged up on something. Me. It was all me. It was then I took a breath, one that sounded off, a subtle moan. This seemed to please him, he came closer, a silk sigh of a voice. "You sound so good Bella." I steadied my breaths, flushed in both embarrassment and disbelief. "I do?" "Mmm." His body was pushed up against mine, warm, tight. I blinked. Edward cupped my chin, brought his face close and then so faintly brushed his closed mouth across mine…once… twice… three times. "I want to kiss you," he told me, I could hear the wetness of his tongue. "Okay." His head bent, slanted as his mouth covered mine. He was so warm, moist lips that suckled on my own, gentle rubbing, soft kissing. His tongue slipped over the texture of mine as I parted and allowed him access. Wet and slow, I was heady with desire. My hands trailed up to his chest, along his collar, resting to fist in his hair. It was obvious to say that he was a good kisser… knowing every way to please my mouth. I moaned again, delighted that I could kiss him back. "God Bella," he breathed between kisses. I was too into this, too mesmerized by his lips and tongue. Couldn't get enough. Wanted more. "I want more." And it was so abrupt and cutting, true to the way I felt. I suddenly didn't care that we weren't official. I needed him to do something else. "Show me more." "—you don't mean that." I tugged at his hair, he groaned and pushed his lips to mine. Our kisses from then on were rougher… not slow, not gentle. "How far are you willing to go Bella?" I didn't speak. I just whimpered, crashed my lips to his, it wasn't an answer but it was an indication. Edward's breath felt hotter, his cheeks were flushed and I was sure mine were also. He trailed his open mouth down my jaw, back up, back down, to my neck, across my throat. I was so turned on, and all this heavy breathing, all this kissing… I was just about ready to do anything. He let his forehead rest against mine, our eyes meeting, mouths agape. Taking his hand, he placed it on the left center of my breast, feeling my heart beat, smiling, kissing the tip of my nose. "We should stop," he said. I looked on, desperate for him to ignore his own advice. "But I don't want to." "You don't?" He smiled. It was like a man looking at a much younger girl—it was knowing. He was aware—more

aware than I, a cunning look rested in his eyes. Edward was planning. I shook my head, feeling a little braver, knowing that this boy liked me and I liked him, I tip-toed when he didn't bend and reached up to kiss him, he laced his fingers in mine. "We should get back in time for class." I relented, my senses clearing a little. "Okay." And then Edward grabbed my hand, led me into Biology and took his seat next me. I could feel the stares on us as we entered, our hands joined, flushed faces. Shit, I bet I looked slutty, but as Edward squeezed my hand, he smiled, kissed my temple and said, "You do realize that this makes you mine now." And all of a sudden I forgot everyone else. I didn't care what they thought; I just wanted to be alone with him again. I was his. Owned. Was it twisted to say that knowing that felt good? …He wanted me. "I'm your… girlfriend?" "I should think so," he said. "Okay." And he chuckled, released my hand and began copying Mr. Banner's notes. Edward was my boyfriend. This beautiful boy owned me. I sat there stunned, unable to concentrate, unable to move. "A single cell organism is… Ms. Swan?" "Hmm?" The whole class giggled, Mr. Banner sighed exasperated. Edward shoved his note book my way, answer written on the page in a messy cursive. "Amoeba," I replied, embarrassed that I needed aid with such a simple question, dumbass Bella. Edward rubbed my lower back in a comforting manner; I stiffened, realizing that Mike was sat behind us. He is quite close at this point. Edward kisses the lobe of my ear, it is slow and lingering, the wet of his lips leaves a cool feeling on my skin. "Well done baby," he whispers sexily. And I don't care that it is mocking. I swear to God everyone notices, whispers erupt, the secret between my legs whimpers, and in a vain attempt I cross and uncross them hastily. I tried so hard to concentrate after that but it was impossible. Edward kept stroking my hand as I wrote, distracting the flow of my penmanship. He kept whispering things in my ear—compliments; specifically to do with my lips, mouth, tongue. "Want it again," he sighs. I can't get any hotter, I'll collapse from pent up passion. And then his hand disappears under our table, he squeezes my thigh, slowly trailing fingers to my middle. Two fingers stroke me there over my jeans, now firm circles on my untouched sex, and I quiver in my seat. I feel so foreign, so aroused, so wrong. But I welcome the violation, because in a sick manner, it pleases me. "Stop," I mutter. "Nope," he fires back almost instantly. I push his hand away and in response he lays it on the back of my spine, thumb drags under the hem of my t-shirt. I

know Mike is witnessing this. It is all together embarrassing… exciting. "Stop," I repeat. Edward leans sideways, proceeds to talk in a low voice. "Don't let other people inhibit you. Don't let them make you feel as though me touching you here, out in the open, is wrong. It's not. I'm your man now baby…" And he ends this with a wet kiss to my jaw. "Enjoy this. Fuck everyone else." And his fingers return to my middle, ghost like tiny strokes. I almost wet myself. Panties most definitely soaked. When all of this is over I practically run to the bathroom, attempt to clean myself, walk to my locker in shame. He is there. Smiling. He pulls me into an embrace. "My little virgin," he teases. My eyes grow big. "Did you enjoy that baby?" I don't answer. "You know one of these days; you'll be just as bold as me." His arms are firmly incasing me, tight on my hips as his nose collides with mine. "Can I kiss you again?" I don't answer. Edward leans inward, chaste pecks on my lips and then a fleeting lick of his tongue. "Mmm, think I am slightly addicted—to making you feel good… You think that's love talking?" I don't answer. "Or maybe its lust." He shrugs and loosens his hold, yet I don't move, I stare upward in bemusement. "You touched me… over my jeans… in a packed classroom… you… you…." I was so flustered. Edward bent, sparkles in his eyes, the green darkened as he brought his moist lips to my ear. "Did you cum?" I don't answer. "Want to?" I don't answer. "I'll be at your truck after school baby." And then he walks away to attend his American History class, leaving me stunned at both him and myself.

"Come here," he says. We are at our meadow. In my truck. I go to him, slide so that I am tight against him. "No," he says gruffly. "Like this." And he pulls me onto his lap. "Better." And he kisses me feverishly. I crouch to meet his lips, and his tongue is suddenly shoved into my open mouth. "Straddle me." I do as I'm told. "Yea," he whispers pleased. "Perfect baby."

I whine. It sounds so good when he calls me that, and it feels so good being this close to him. Edward's hands travel up and down my back, the rigid denim of my jeans are annoying me, pinching my sides as I sit astride him with bent knees. I worry if I've put on weight but the thought it impossible, I've hardly eaten since this all began. My hips begin to press into him, I'm not sure if I should move so I just kiss. This is okay, this is enough, but I know that soon it won't be. I know that at some point he'll want to 'get off'. I wonder if that point is now—now that he is fiddling with the zipper of my jeans. "Let me touch it," he says softly. I nod, turned on by the lowness of his voice. I undo my jeans button myself and he licks his lips, looking on. I mentally congratulate myself for wearing a black set of panties. When my jeans are loosened he wastes no time, taking the pads of his fingers to stroke me over my underwear. I moan, feeling bold. "This is so much better than…" he pauses, looks up at me with severe eyes as he notes my sucked in breath. "You know what," he finishes. "A million times better." Was he talking about coke? Was I better than that? I wanted to be. "Let me touch you," I said, doing my best to follow this through. "Okay baby. Just let me… let me see you please." I blink, not clear. And then he trails his hands upward, under the material of my shirt, grasping my breasts. I bite my lip. I didn't know that we'd be de-clothing. I wasn't sure if I was ready for him to see me bare yet. I steady myself on his shoulders and he slowly understands that I am all of a sudden shy. "Come on baby," he breathes. "I know I'll love them. It'll help me to cum, you want me to cum don't you?" I nod. I do. I want him to feel as good as possible. "And it'll be nice for you. I'll make you feel good baby… please." And he sounds so desperate now. I wonder if I've found a weak spot—if my naked chest would stun him into a blithering idiot. I want to find out. I am still reticent but I need to know. I allow him to push up my t-shirt so that it sits above them and then lazily he ignores my bra clasp and opts to pull my straps past my shoulders, pulling the cups down. I am suddenly bare. Embarrassed as he eyes my breasts, I look down at them too, wanting to witness if I am satisfactory. "Fuck," he sighs. And he runs his thumbs over my puckered nipples. I rotate my hips involuntarily and he groans. "Fucking beautiful." And I roll my hips again. "Can I put my m-mouth…" I nod before he finishes and he looks up at me aroused, I feel his erection fight against me, and then in a moment his hot mouth is surrounding one peak. His tongue licks around my areola and the sight is so erotic, I buckle. He pulls back and squeezes me softly. "Beautiful baby." And we begin to grind. He unbuttons his jeans in a haste and his arousal protrudes. Edward shoves me forward so that it is directly hitting mine. His sex against mine—feels like a fist kneading dough, hard against soft. We rub up on one another, I get wetter, hotter. I am breathless as we are fighting with friction and moans and gropes. He is staring at my breasts like they are the most revered thing in the world and I am encouraging him to look on as I stroke the back of his head. "Your mouth, on me," I say, not even caring anymore, just wanting him to—because it feels so nice when he does.

He leans forward, whispers against my right nipple, "That sounded s-so hot, my mouth on you all fucking day," he groans. I whine and he does as I suggest. We grind some more as he dotes on my bare breasts, licking lazy circles around my nipples, sucking the tips into his warm, wet mouth. And then his head disappears in between them, he is shuddering and it is scary because he seems almost intolerable of any type of control. Edward's breathing is erratic and his fingers hurt as they dig into my sides. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." He thrusts up at me repeatedly, mad as though he is trying to put out a fire with his groin. He shudders, mutters and stutters until finally, he cums. His own release doesn't distract him. Edward is staring dozily into my eyes. "I want you to cum baby." He licks his lips, asks me pull my jeans and underwear down further, and I moan when his fingers come into contact with my bare sex. He rubs the apex, staring at it as he does so, groaning although he's already arrived. He encourages me to let loose, "Feel it," he whispers before commanding me to kiss him on impact. I orgasm, so much harder than I had when I had previously touched myself, and then it is a strange feeling of shame that clouds over me as we breathe against one another. "Are you okay?" he asks. I nod and get off him, fixing my clothing as I take the wheel of my vehicle. "Wait," he says, placing a hand on my arm. "You wanted that… didn't you?" I turn to him and slowly nod. He looks relieved and he zips up his jeans. We drive back. When we reach his house he rubs the back of his neck. "You wanna come in? My mom is probably there but you don't have see her, she probably won't even notice..." I want to go in but something restrains me. "I should get home, my dad might be wondering where I am." "Oh… right, okay," he says. He leans over, kisses me slow. "I'll see you tomorrow at school?" "Okay." He is getting out, before he slams the door shut he turns back and speaks. "How about I pick you up?" "Okay." And he turns back again before walking off. I almost smile at his hesitance. "And er… thank you." He shakes his head, chuckling at the circumstance. "I mean fuck, you know what I mean." I bite my lip and smile. "See you tomorrow angel." And then he walks away, a slight swagger in his stride. A/N: I sold out and put the cliché happenings of a Bronte sister appearing somewhere through the fic… yea. ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### Chapter: 8

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. STAMPEDE OF A THOUSAND PULSES 8. Dependency

"Why is there a boy in my drive?" Charlie hoisted his belt, stepping back into the house. I spluttered up my tea, burning my tongue as I went straight to the door to investigate. He stood at the passenger side of a shiny silver car—straightened up when he saw me. "My ride's here," I say quickly, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. "He's your ride?" My father's eyebrows raise and then he lodges his foot in the door, blocking me. "You never said you had a boyfriend." I flush. "Dad..." "Well shit," he huffs. "So he is?" I open my mouth up to talk but nothing comes out. "So when do I get to meet him?" Same as before. I am beyond incapable. My father and I have never had to have this type interaction and it awkward. He opens the door wide and stares down my boyfriend. Edward at first seems unaffected, but then he looks to the side, unsure of whether of not it is appropriate to move. "I'll invite him over at some point," I blurt. "But everything is new…" Charlie eyes me, bites the inside of his cheek. "Just give me some time. I mean he only asked me yesterday." I wanted to stop talking. If I didn't I was sure I would have told him about the masturbatory event that took place in my truck also. He hesitates before he lets me go. "Be safe," he grumbles, and in the corner of my eye I know that he is watching, everything. I reach Edward and he makes a point of smiling at me tightly, he opens the door for me, waits until I get in and closes it. Once we are both inside he peels out the drive way. "Your dad hates me already." His face is stony as he speaks. Hands at two and ten, he grips the wheel harder. I place a gentle touch on his thigh. "That's not true." I think about his mother. She didn't seem too keen on me either, I wonder if I should bring this up—but comparison never alighted any situation I knew of, and so I waited for him to speak. He flexed his jaw, pulled over and attacked me with a hard kiss. I flinched; his whole stature came onto mine. He cursed as the gear shift dug into his thigh, hoisting himself over me. "Edward… what…" "Just kiss me," he breathed and then his lips pressed forcefully onto mine. I complied but reluctantly, his behavior erratic and in turn his kissing technique became sloppy. It didn't feel like him. I didn't like it. "Edward…" I tried to slow him. "Bella," he whines, "Give me what I want…" I grip the back of his head with force and pull him back. "What?" Something in me suddenly jumped, something about the careless tone he took with me. I began to have flashes of yesterday evening, flashes of him begging to see

me bare, flashes of him asking me if I wanted him to feel good. I pushed him back, crossed my arms, sulked. I was having a moment of clarity. It hit like a lightening bolt—fast, hard, and out of nowhere. It dawned on me then that I was a whimsy epidemic. Nothing was special about me. Foolish in my thinking… thoughts of him needing me now turned into the reality of him seeing me only as a number. Edward didn't need anyone, he just did as he pleased, and in the moment I was what he wanted—a brief passing, a conquered casualty. I spoke in a low hard tone, "I'm not fucking you." He sank into his seat, revved his brand new engine and drove us straight to school. I didn't bother speaking again. I didn't bother to look at him when I opened the door, I got out swiftly, slammed it with as much force as I could exert and made my way to my locker. I was dumb, a retard of emotions. I could feel the tears prickling my eyes, but all hell would have to break loose before I allowed one to drop. I was weak enough. No one had to witness this. I ran to the girls' bathroom. I was a silent crier. I was relieved to see that no one was present. Class was starting soon, I would be late and in detention no doubt—Ms. Reed was a vigilant viper, no compassion laid in her—tardiness was an insult. But I couldn't bring myself to care. I clutched my chest, pangs attacked me as I came to realize how horrible it all was. I felt soiled and mucky. Between my legs was where I felt it worse. Had I had the power to quell the foolish romantic in me I would have. Was this what those girls felt like? After sleeping with, fooling around with, heavy petting with the boy of their then dreams? This had to karma. Karma for all those times I turned my nose up at them, wrote them off as sluttish and wannabe succubus's. I had no idea what I was doing. I had no clue. And now I was realizing that I was just like them. I just wanted to be wanted. Only I didn't hike up my skirts or push up my chest. I didn't overload on lip gloss and titter about in heels. I dumbly let the feeling disguise itself as compassion. If I let him touch me, then I could touch him… make him feel better about himself. How slow of me. My tears subsided after what felt like five long minutes. My eyes red, my skin stained—I wasn't cried out but I was still sad. I ran the tap of its cloudy water and splashed my swollen features until they returned to a somewhat normal state, and as my wet face dried in the coldness of the school's air I stared at myself statically in the mirror. Ugly. I looked so very ugly. I smiled then. Laughed. Snorted at it all. As if he would want this. As if I could hold onto him. Once his dick would rid me of my virginity I was sure to be yesterday's news. Old and boring. I began crying again. "Bella." Maybe this was a short lesson for me. Appropriately short. School was soon ending, I would soon graduate. I could go onto college a little wiser. "Bella." So I closed my eyes, heaved heavy breaths, tried my best to clear my senses. I could do this. I could move on. Edward wasn't going to get the better of me… he wasn't about to play me like this. "Bella."

"This is the girls bathroom…get out." "But Bella…" "Leave me alone Edward." I pushed past him, walking toward Ms. Reed's class, ready for her to issue me a pink slip, a scorn, something that would remind me how tardy I was. Slow. "Come back here!" he said, doing his best to mimic a low thunder. "Leave. Me. Alone." And then amidst the eerie quiet of the hallway, I was yanked back with such force that my air passages closed in panic. I yelped, only to have his hand cover my mouth. "Please," he begged, did his best to place a shaky kiss on my cheek. I didn't fight him, I was too shocked to even consider not complying. Edward walked me with him, his hand dropped from my mouth—hugging me fiercely. Backward, backward, into a corner nook where I knew many a student couple had shared stolen moments. "Bella," he whispered, turning me stiffly. He trapped me, placed his hands at either side of my head. "Don't do this." I was silent. Not scared. Not nothing. He continued, "I wasn't going to make you do anything." Still silent. He trembled, kissed my forehead. "I swear." I parted my lips, he waited for me speak. "You were using me." He removed one hand to cup my cheek. "If that's what you thought, or felt, then I'm sorry." He stroked my damp skin, suddenly bringing both hands up to wipe my face. "Sorry baby," he told me softly. "Let me go." Edward face crumbled, he spoke carefully, straining in control, "Is that what you want?" I pushed him back with no effort, he tumbled away from me and sank back against the adjacent wall. I adjusted my backpack, looked at him hesitantly. I had to walk away. I walked to Ms. Reed's class and left him to sulk. A part of me was glad, a small part was happy to know that he was feelings somewhat defeated. But the bigger part, the dominant part was tugging at my heart strings. He looked so depressed. So sorry. And everything I had felt prior concerning my shame lifted—lifted and traveled to another place. I now felt horrible for making him feel so sore.

Ms. Reed's voice boomed for all to hear, "Isabella you are late." How apt. "Twenty minutes of penance after school," she mutters, her red talon like nails gripping at the marker as she wrote out the morning's lesson.

The door opened abruptly. Everyone turns. And there is my dejected Edward. Still beautiful. Still striking. "Can I help you?" she bites. He walks to her desk with an unwavering stride. Confidently he leans to meet her gaze and he utters words that none of the class can hear. Her eyes soften and then uncharacteristically she offers a gentle smile. Edward looks to me—a sad stare, and then he disappears. I try not to wonder what was said, but through out the lesson I am relentlessly checking my phone to see if he has texted me an explanation. At the end I am called back by Ms. Reed. "No detention, you are excused." I shoot her a confused glare. "I am?" "You are. Now get to your next class before they re-issue what I've revoked." I didn't see him until the end of lunch. He was waiting by my locker. Eyes shut tight as he ignored every curious stare that was drafted his way. Jessica bumped my shoulder. Said I should talk to him, find out what was bugging him. "What's it you?" I ask. She replies with a stutter, shocked that I am so abrupt and then Angela drags me to her side and tells me I have been bitchy since the day started, asked me if I was okay. I apologize to Jessica and she shrugs me off—runs to Lauren and they start whispering. Sighing I foot it to my locker to face him. "Can I get to my stuff?" I say this quietly. He moves, leans against the next locker and watches me with still eyes as I put away my books. I close the door, look down, not knowing what do next. His hand comes up to my face, I pull away, but still he manages to brush my hair back. "Forgive me," he says. The first bell rings. We stay there, staring at one another. It is strange for all who pass by and I can hear the chorus' of 'weird' and 'what the fuck?'—but I am trapped here, in his gaze, feeling sorry, harassed, desired, confused. "You're so beautiful." Edward sighs, pulls me to him, hides his head in the crook of my neck. "Not as beautiful as you Bella." And I melt, there in the hallway, with students walking past as the second bell goes off. I am weak. And I will always come back. No matter how many times I pull away. He's my Edward and wanting him is the one thing I am sure of. I want him, so much so that I'll forgive him for being aggressive—he'll continue to do it as long as I allow it—and I'll allow it. I'll let him do whatever he wants. "Let me kiss you please," he whispers. And he does, so slow and soft that it is dizzying, so gentle and careful that I sigh into his mouth, put my hands in his hair—want to cry because it feels so right and so good and so Edward. His tongue traces my lips, parts them and caresses me into a stupor. I whine as he pulls away, dips to press his forehead to mine. "Angel face." And I kiss him again and I forget all the bad. We end up skipping class, walking to his car and he holds me in the backseat as he tells me how much he needs me and how happy he is to have me. I won't walk away again. I am dependant on him now, as he is on me. He can have… and take… and give… whenever he sees fit. I won't fight it.

"Hey," I say. He doesn't answer. His stare is affixed to Styrofoam tiled ceiling. I sigh and stroke his hair, it is matted and greasy. His beard is over grown, fuzzy and long, he is a cave man—a messy sight, much older looking, much sadder looking. He is having a bad day. I kiss his forehead and he turns inward, gruffly, annoyed with my affections. "I'd much rather if you just fucked me," he mutters. I fight back my retort, because I know he is trying to quell the need to show any emotion, any weakness. He has been here for two and a half weeks and he is restless, without narcotic and moody. He tugs at his gray t-shirt, curses under his breath and complains about the heat. "Get them to turn the fucking heater down, I'm sweating like fucking mule." He is irritable and he is being an asshole, but I love him too much to not comply, I'm scared that he'll break down if I give as good as I get. I come back from telling them that he hates being too warm, and he asks me why I took so long. Edward sits up from his bed, he faces me as he swings his legs to one side, drags my heavy chair so that is situated between his knees. As he stares at me, he swallows. "I know I look like shit, so stop looking at me like that." "I don't care how you look," I say. Edward snorts. "Right. So tell me," he chides, "when you go home and day dream about shit getting better… does the boyfriend of your fantasies look anything like this?" He gestures to himself. I take time to word myself carefully. "I'd take you anyhow. I love you." "Oh?" He collapses back into his bed. "Well how noble of you angel." I push my chair back into its corner, sit beside him on the bed. "Yea," I say. "Yea… I'm in love with a fuck up." I suddenly can't be bothered to stay placid anymore. He scoffs. "And I'm in love with an idiot." I allow him his moment. He eyes me sickly, dirtily and turns onto his side. I hear his voice but I don't see his lips. "Why are you here? I told you not to come in today… told you I wanted to be alone." "Well I didn't want to be alone. I wanted to see you." "Go home Bella." "No." "Fine," he huffs, faces me again, pulls me down so that I am lying with him. "Kiss me then… I haven't brushed my teeth, but don't let that stop you." I almost laugh, but I can't, because he is bitter about it, bitter that he looks this way, feels this way, that I am the only one who can make him feel better. "Fucking kiss me Bella," he says. Sour breath hits my face, but I don't care. I love him so. I love him even though he is a mess.

I kiss him. And it is all wet and hot and tongues and breaths. "I love you." "I love you too," he replies, a new softness silks over his tone. He hitches his leg over my hip, draws me closer, clasps me in a locked embrace. We kiss harder and my skin burns as his rough facial hair grates it. I try my best to ignore it, coarse and rash on my face. He grunts and groans, and it suits his appearance—his cave man appearance. Edward is pushing up against me, doing his regular agitated groin humping—letting me know he's growing impatient. "Fuck, you're gonna make me hard... This is what you wanted all along huh baby?" And he always finds a way to make it seem like I'm the one who needs it, and maybe I do, but I think his desperation edges it. "Yea?" I say, not thinking, not caring, just feeling. Chuckling a little because I can feel him growing underneath the old sweatpants he wears. It's almost like I'm kissing another man, this beard is like another character. I giggle. "What?" he asks, dragging his mouth to my neck. "Feels like I'm kissing a stranger," I manage, "—the beard." "I'll shave tonight," he mutters. "Just shut up okay?" He giggles like a little boy at his own terseness, and then he pulls away for a small fraction of time and smiles, stares at me thoughtfully. "You're my beautiful." He kisses me once. "Fuck, I'm still pissed off but you've always been it baby, my beautiful." He leans down, pushes his tongue into my mouth and we begin to get carried away. Real carried away. "I can make you feel good," I whisper, so uncharacteristic of me, but it is truth. I push him over, straddle him. He places his hands on my hips and bites his lip, circles his groin against mine. "Right here?" he asks. "If you want." I kiss him again, and he yanks my yoga pants down, kneads my exposed behind. He keeps looking toward the door and I find it amusing that he of all people is worried as to whether or not we get caught. "Are we fucking?" he asks so innocently… as innocently as 'fucking' can sound. "If you want," I say rubbing him. "Yea," he replies throatily, "I want to." In a haste we rid each other of our pants and underwear and in blink of an eye he is inside of me, thick and hard, pumping and pulsing. His sweaty head falls into the center of my chest as he sits up, shoves my body up from his, witnesses himself sliding in and out of myself. I let out subtle moans, not wanting to alert anyone but wanting him to know how good he makes me feel. "Shit, shit, I'm gonna cum," he warns. "Me too," I say. "God you feel like heaven… I love you baby." His voice trails off into a cat like whine, baby like, needy and panting and it endears me, because he is so honest when he's inside me, nothing hides his huge eyes, his beating heart, his desperation—when he's inside me. "Don't ever…. leave me," he says. "I… won't." I convulse on top of him. It feels so good to cum, so good to orgasm, so good to just be this way. "Fuck… I need you," he cries. He grunts and whines and thrusts and he shows me how much he needs me as he clutches on as he arrives. He doesn't let me go, breathing shallow as his face buries into my neck. "Don't go," he whispers. "Stay… stay here… please."

I stroke his hair again, feel his cock soften inside me, but he makes no move to slip out. "Okay," I reply. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," And he kisses me after each merit. "I love you Bella." I watch him sleep with my chin pressed into folded hands. A care worker, nurse, whatever they call themselves slips in and apologizes when she sees me. I smile and allow her to bring in the food he had ordered earlier that morning. She say's he isn't one to eat in the cafeteria like the rest of the inhabitants. When she leaves I stroke his fingers. He stirs and opens his sleep stained eyes, looking bummier than ever, crinkled, sour breathed and dozy. "You hungry?" I ask fondly. I watch as he eats, little bits of food in his beard, this should repulse me—but instead I look on adoringly, he is so cute… odd but true. I wipe his mouth for him as he fans my hand away, tells me he isn't a baby, but I ignore him, tell him he's my baby and he smiles sheepishly as I do all that I can make him feel better. "I better shave this shit off…. can you shave it for me?" He lies back as I take my nail scissors and clip the excess hair away, and then when it gets close enough to shave, I go to the kettle in the corner of the room and heat up some water in a bowl. I lather up his jaw, brush his shaving cream on, get his expensive razor and stroke it down his face carefully. I am successful. He is clean and soft and I reward myself by kissing him. He is my baby after all. "Thank you," he whispers, stroking my cheek, and falls back asleep. I leave him a note to let him know I'll be back tomorrow. I let him know its okay if he chooses not to shower or clean up because I'll be back regardless. I'll always be back. As I click his door shut, I walk past the various apartment like rooms, it's a nice environment here. I hope it serves him well. I hope this isn't a pointless journey. I mentally plan out all the things I'll have to take care of—I'm due back at school soon, my last semester is coming up, I really want pass my degree with a first in everything but of course my mind is else where. In the near distance I can see Emmett, he has a clipboard in his hands—he looks so out of place. Like he shouldn't be here, maybe on a football field somewhere, he's way too big. "Hey there Bella," he says, his regular greeting. "He's doing good huh?" "He's real grumpy though," I mumble. "Ah that's expected." He fans the comment away. "Plus, he's got a very caring girl waiting on the outside, I'm sure that's more than enough incentive." Emmett has really cute dimples. I momentarily forget what he's talking about, stare at them, they make me smile. I realize I am staring, but for some reason I can't zone back in, the distraction is nice. "Earth to Bella," he jokes. "Is there something on my face?" "Oh no," I say, shaking my head. "Sorry." We say our goodbyes, as I turn to leave and prepare for tomorrow I eye his lady friend—the blond. "Goodbye Bella!" she almost yells as she catches me leaving. "Bye…" She is really friendly, and she knows a lot about me it would seem. I yawn. I should go get some sleep. I need to be back here by late afternoon. He'll be free from all the sessions then. I'll have him all to myself. I smile. Everything

will be okay. Everything will be fine. ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### Chapter: 9

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. STAMPEDE OF A THOUSAND PULSES 9. Distance I went through his bag. He was getting me ice cream, he left me in his car, I was curious. I found a pack of Skittles, a water bottle, two text books and a binder. I was still looking when he walked up to the window. "What are you doing?" Two cones were in his hands, I quickly put his bag down, took my cone from him as he got in. "I'm sorry." He ignored my apology. "Should I turn out my pockets too?" I cringed, stared at my vanilla whip. "No, no, I was out of order…" Edward looked at the treat in my hands, it was beginning to melt. "Eat it before it starts to drip." I did as I was told, uncomfortably, I wanted to say something—but I struggled to come up with anything appropriate. We ate until we were both done. "I'm not angry." He rested his head back, swallowed, his throat bobbing. Reaching into his jeans pocket he pulled out his wallet, opened it, and slipped out a small packet. "I haven't taken them yet." He dropped the small baggie into my lap. I picked it up, fished one out. I stared at the small tablet in bewilderment as it sat on the tip of my finger. It would have been so easy to take it, to just be spontaneous and do something I didn't really want to. Edward looked on at me in intense fascination. I think he was waiting for me to do something, to freak out, to shout at him, to swallow it. I threw it and the rest out the half opened window. I turned toward him, gauging his reaction. "Were they expensive?" "No," he answered. I had expected him to be angry now. He wasn't. Calm or restrained, maybe both, was what he was. "I was going to take them tonight." "Why?" He shrugged. "I don' know, stuff at home… it's been a little tense, I figured I could just… forget about it for a bit." I felt a little hurt in that admission. I thought we were having a good time together, I thought he was healthily distracted. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

He shook his head. "Not really." Starting up the engine he drove out of the car park. Our date to the movies had ended on a sour note—still a small part of me was happy that he had given the tablets up. We drove down the main highway, fifteen minutes from Forks. "Please don't do anything tonight," I whispered. "I won't." After a minute I placed a hand on his thigh. "Do you want to… fool around a bit?" I don't know why I asked, I suddenly felt altogether a little too forward but I wanted to distract him, give him some release, anything to make him feel a little better. "I'm a little tired." "Oh." I withdrew my hand. "I can take you up to my room," he said, smirking. "You can do whatever you want with me there." I swallowed and a quiet 'okay' escaped me. Silence until we reached his house. He parked the car in the drive and we darted inside, straight up the stairway and up the pull down to his attic converted room. It was full of dream like twilight, a mixture of heavy midnight blue and gray slate walls. Edward removed his clothing as I sat at his desk chair, he left on his jeans and white undershirt, flinging his hoodie, checkered shirt, boots and socks to one side. I followed him to his bed. He collapsed onto his back as I sat. I didn't talk and neither did he. After a couple of seconds I felt his arms as they wrapped around my torso. "So… what did you have in mind?" I didn't know. So far we had kissed and rubbed, I no clue what he wanted, I had initially thought that he would be the leader in all of this. I could feel his smile as his kissed my neck, it made me feel stupid, like he had known I was being somewhat inventive with my intervening. I turned around, frowning a little. "Are you pouting?" he asked this with a smirk. I huffed, pushed him back and landed on him awkwardly with a kiss. He laughed, muffled from my mouth on his and began to grope my behind. I did my upmost to keep kissing him, but he kept laughing. I grew tired, rolled off him and frowned some more. Inadequate wasn't substantial enough of a word. He poked my side, a smile still in his voice as he spoke, "You can carry on if you like." I grunted. "Stop laughing at me." He laughed a little more, rolling to his side placing a hand on my stomach. "But you're so cute…" "Stop it Edward, I wasn't trying to be cute. I was trying to be—" I couldn't even say it, but I just about managed, "—sexy." He stroked me over my shirt. "Hey," he whispered, "you are… cute and sexy." I kept scowling, because I could hear the sympathy in his voice, it angered me. I wanted him to shut up. I wanted to know for myself that I could be just as sexy as he was. And so I cut my sour face, I got up, scooted down and began opening his zipper. "Are you…" He began speaking, I ignored him. "Fuck you are…" And I felt a little satisfied when he stopped breathing, a lot satisfied when he started groaning, immensely satisfied when he came all over my hand. "Fuck," he whispered.

I sat back when I was done, asked where the bathroom was—happy to know that he had one that was adjoining. When I came back he was sitting, an anxious look on his face as I took a seat by the desk. I was still pissed, even after all the angry jerking off and release he had experienced, I still wanted to prove myself. "Aren't you coming back over here?" I shook my head, spun round to face the sleek black laptop on his desk. Frustrated I spun back around to face him. "Your dick is a lot bigger than I initially thought." His eyes bugged out, shocked at my tartness. "Thanks?" he answered flustered. "Hmm." I wanted to laugh, but my lack of ego wouldn't allow it. "I've never done that before… I've only read about it." "You read about that?" he asked disbelieving. "I read a little online," I replied, my voice growing a little steadier. I hesitated before continuing, trying to sound nonchalant, trying not to show my own embarrassment. "Did you google it or something?" I wasn't sure what to say, wasn't sure if I should have admitted to being a little perverted. But I was trying to remember the goal, I wanted him to see that I wasn't too much of prude—because I was sure that it was going to get old at some point. I knew guys liked a little assertiveness, I knew I lacked confidence, I was hoping my faking was promise of what I could be like for him. I just blurted it out, "Girls masturbate too." That had nothing to do with anything, but I said it and I had no idea why, I was about to put it down to word vomit… but plain stupidity seemed more fitting. He was at a loss for words. I cringed then, feeling supremely stupid when he didn't reply. I felt heat travel to my cheeks, red hot heat. "Wow," he said. "Yea… I guess they do." I chewed my lip, continuous gnawing at the soft skin until he spoke. He didn't. And it was sufficiently awkward. I thought that this was supposed to be a turn on—maybe my delivery was all wrong, and I guessed it was from all the fleeting looks he gave me. Bringing his fingers to his hair, he ran them through it, got up, pulled me up, held me like he was saying sorry, and I wanted to cry, because I was so embarrassed, so mortified… But he didn't. He didn't say sorry. He whispered. Hot breath in my ear. Hot words. His hand traveled to my crotch. He brushed the pads of his fingers up my center. "Do you touch here?" He placed it just above the estimated apex, pressed on it with a soft pressure.

"Or here?" And then he dragged his touch back down, down until he had to curve his fingers. My breath hitched. "Answer me baby." his voice velvety smooth as his lips tickled my ear. I put gentle force on his hand, moved it up. "Here," I managed. I tensed my shoulders, pulled back a little, looked at him. His eyes were dilated. He was turned on. Edward pulled me back to him, swayed as he held me. I think he was trying to wane off his excitement because he didn't speak. I was a little disappointed, wondering if maybe he was exerting control or he was unable to get hard again in such a short space of time. His breathing was normal, but his open mouth on my shoulder told me that he was keeping something at bay. I tested my surmise. I reached for his zipper again, slowly pulling it down. When his pants were open and he wasn't protesting I reached inside, feeling a little more at ease with the sight and feel of his penis in my hand. "Shit," he breathed. "Bella, baby, I don't know if I can… so if it doesn't… don't feel bad…" I looked at him. "How long usually before you can?" He seemed to be blushing, it made me feel better. I smiled shyly, kissed him once, encouraging him to speak. "Just, I mean if you want to, just touch it for a while…" We both watched my hand as I stroked him up and down, he instructed me this time, asking me to thumb his tip, hold a little harder, play with his testicles. I was doing my best and it took a while, but he assured me it was due to him cumming only a moment before. "Let's go to the bed baby." We walked there and it was almost comical the way his half limp sex bobbed up and down as we did. He was exposed quite indecently but he didn't seem to care. He sat, pulled me on top of him. We kissed and giggled as his palms ran up my sides, coaxing my t-shirt up. Every now and again I would see it, it was bigger now, it was harder too. Eventually we ended up side to side, me touching him, stroking him, and again, he came all over my hands and again I was satisfied, as was he. He asked if I wanted the favor returned—but I didn't, oddly so. I wanted him to have all the pleasure, I wanted to savoir his moans, savoir my ability to make him moan, keep my moment for another moment. I wanted to drag this out. Edward took me home, kissing me every so often as he drove, smiling all the time, looking thoroughly relaxed. I went to bed, with thoughts of him and came from my own touch, looking forward to whatever good would come later.

We kissed at my locker, a continuous lip lock, laughter in between, careless as to what people were witnessing. He cradled my face in his hands, making me feel miniscule in comparison. He was so tall and domineering like this, bent to kiss me, pushed up against a hard place. I rested my hands on his sides, feeling content. When we were done he flung an arm around me, carefree as we walked to biology. It was nice, being his girl, especially when he was like this. We flirted all through out the lesson. Mr. Banner didn't seem to notice—we were ahead anyway, Edward often breezed through the tasks, standing behind me as I completed the work sheet. "Either everyone else is slow or we're a little too fast." "Yea?" I arched my brow. "I think it's more to do with my boyfriend being a geek."

"Mmm, maybe… biology is definitely the better science." I smiled shyly as his nose dipped into my neck. "Packed class room Edward. You're not doing anything to me here," I warned. He chuckled and went back to work. Surprisingly able of leaving me be. I had to admit to being a little dissatisfied.

We got our own table at lunch. I didn't feel bad for not sitting with the regular crew. Not one bit. I liked it just being us, just us two, it was nice. I wanted every minute alone with him. I didn't care what we would do—staring was enough. He smiled at me as I caressed his cheek, kissed my knuckles. We forgot our lunch. Food was a weak substitute for affection. I couldn't get enough. Edward scooted me closer, my knees between his, his head dipped to meet mine, a kiss, a long and sweet one. "You're friends are staring." "I don't care," I whispered, eyes fixed on his mouth. We kept on kissing. I kept on ignoring people. He kept on pulling me in. And I was drowning.

Two weeks passed. I hadn't really held a decent conversation with anyone. I was constantly occupied, in my actions and thoughts. The appearance of Edward at my side seemed to stifle everyone—once he arrived—they departed, even Ben and Angela. I tried to chase her down once, wanted to know how she was. Our conversation was abrupt. I could sense that she wasn't really willing. It hurt. When I finally saw Edward I told him—left out the part of him hindering anything—only mentioning that she was being distant. "You'll always have me angel," was his reply. I smiled, satisfied, I was okay with that. I had planned a day out, with Angela, surprisingly enough. I hadn't told him yet, figured that for one Saturday that he would be okay. Things were steady. I hadn't driven to school since he had gotten his car back. We spent every spare moment together, talking, kissing, touching was a special treat. I had touched him a total of amount of six times. I was counting. We had been together for two months, I had felt that it was reasonable enough… I wasn't an expert on the pace of relationships and I was counting the prior two months of knowing him as an extra plus. Everything was good. And as far as I knew he hadn't touched a drug since. He kept texting me. I answered every one. His last text, asked for my whereabouts. I hesitated, but told him once I caught a moment alone. I didn't receive a reply once I told him. Angela came back with a bucket of popcorn. "Hey did you want your own? I can never finish these things so I figured we could share." We watched the movie. I laughed at the appropriate times, mimicking the audiences actions, worrying if Edward was okay. I still hadn't got my reply. When it finished we took our time getting out, Angela's arm linked mine and for the first time in a while I felt like I had a piece of the camaraderie we had had before. It didn't last long. He was waiting by my truck. Angela let go of my arm, shying away as I took in my boyfriend's hardened features. I looked back to her. "I didn't know he'd be here," I said, almost apologetically.

Edward dropped the cigarette he smoked, stuffed his hands in his pockets, awaiting our presence. We reached him, Angela offering a quiet mumble of a hello, he did the same and hopped into the passenger side, forcing her to take a ride in the back. I didn't correct him, I just allowed him his rudeness… I was feeble. I drove Angela home, gave a weak smile as she left. Edward spoke up, "What if I wanted to spend time with you this evening? You can't just… go and do stuff… and not tell me… I mean, that's not cool Bella." "I thought you'd be okay with it." He sighed. "I am, I guess." "How did you get to Port Angeles without driving?" "Told my dad I was meeting you here, said I was too tired to drive… he likes you I think." I perked up. "He does?" "Yea." I drove him home, we kissed in the driveway. He coaxed me to the door step, asked me to come upstairs with him, but I knew I had to be home soon—I had broken curfew a little too often since being with him. Charlie didn't like it. Edward wouldn't relent. His embrace trapped me, he laughed at my squirming, and I laughed back—because whilst I knew I had to be home, I enjoyed his playfulness. "Don't go." It wasn't like I could, with his grip so steady. I pushed him back forcefully, his back hitting the front door. He gaped at me and laughed. "I liked that," he teased. And I couldn't help but smile, I allowed him to hold me again, completely distracted. I now wanted to go upstairs. I wanted to touch him. I wanted him to touch me. "You're making this difficult." "Hmm… good." I got home a whole half hour late, Charlie scolded me but didn't do anything else… scratching his chin he eyed me sleepily, kissed my head and went to bed. It was clear he wasn't comfortable with parenting. He never had been. I was okay with that, I was aware enough to know that he was emotionally retarded—but it didn't bother me, he loved me from a distance.

"You really have changed." I was having an argument. A bad one. Moments passed where a lot of it was just excuses, excuses that tumbled from my mouth—because I felt attacked, blighted by every sentence. Angela held her head down. I had never seen her seen her angry. I wasn't sure if this was really anger, she had always been calm in whatever form of delivery she gave. Beside her sat Ben, his hand was placed softly at the sweep of her back, both of her arms were placed on the table. The lunch table. I thought this was an invitation to have lunch together. It wasn't. Every word she spoke was that of distance. Angela seemed to be speaking through her teeth, and in the background I could see a table full of former associates staring on in interest. It was definitely a moment of clarity. Seeing all of my former friends looking on… it was clear that they agreed. Each face, over the shoulders of both Ben and Angela,

held a stare of sourness. I had never felt as small as I had then... being told off for ditching people, for snapping at them at various intervals, for involving myself with someone who in their opinion was bad news. "You know don't you? You know and you're still with him." I listened to her quiet storm, the wrangled way she spat out words, she sounded so disappointed. Ben just sat there, like he was some form of a support system, like if he wasn't present she would spontaneously combust. "But you seemed okay with it," I said. What I had meant was 'you pushed me toward him', because in a way her acuity in his like for me was what helped me take that step into the unknown. But inside, I knew, I knew that when it all came down to basics that no matter what had been said, I would have wanted him anyway. All those excuses, the pardons, I knew was bullshit. I was just a bad person. I was just a horrible friend. I had allowed infatuation to overtake me. I was sorry. Sorry for being so distant. Sorry for betraying her and all the others. Sorry for ignoring them. Just, sorry… "Are you one of them now?" I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. It would have been easy to say no, I should have said no. But my protective gene, the one that seemed deadest on no one harming Edward came into play before I could even fathom putting her speculation to rest. I ducked my head, rubbing my temples in attempt to quell the on coming headache. I groaned, cursed the fact that he had chosen not to come in today. I didn't have anywhere to run, no one to run to, I was to face this on my own. "Would it matter?" I ask, because I need to know, would it change things any further? Stretch them? Bend them? Break? Angela looked at me exasperated, her lip curled upwards. Ben leaned forward then, looked at me intently as his girlfriend slumped back. "Know when to stop Bella." That was all he said. He squeezed Angela's hand, whispered in her ear, and then, they got up, got up and left me there. Alone.

Edward didn't show up for school for the whole week. Each night was a four to five hour phone call, it was pointless talk, pointless murmurs, sweet words, frustrated worries, silly antidotes… Edward read articles over the phone, parts of books that he never managed to finish. Twice he had persuaded me into phone sex. The first time not going too well, I was too self conscious. I ended it abruptly before he started to mention the unmentionable, his first whispers asking what color my bra and panties were, his voice taking on a huskier tone. "I can't." That was what I said. I was too upset, because that was the second day, the second day alone and the second day the whispers got louder—whispers from former friends, whispers from other students. I had a panic attack in the girls bathroom that day. I didn't tell Edward. I didn't tell anyone. The second time I pushed, I pushed myself to try harder, because I knew that it was what he wanted. He seemed to want everything to do with sex. And all of it with me. It was altogether pleasing and frightening. It was a wonder that he hadn't tried to take my virginity yet. For now, masturbatory happenings seemed good enough. I was bright red by the time he was done, each breathy and indecent sentence that he spoke, that he pressed for me to reply to, made my ears burn. But it was him. Had it been any other boy then maybe I would have regretted it. But it was with Edward, Edward made me feel safe, oddly so. "When are you coming back to school?"

"When I feel like it. When are you coming over here?" I didn't answer. Instead I told him I was tired, and I was, it was two in the morning. "No." He started to go off on me. He began telling me how shitty his day was, how shitty his life was, how if I went to sleep now that he'd just spent all night out, and he'd get into something he wouldn't really want to. This was his way of keeping me on line. This was his way of letting me know that my time was his. Edward knew I would fold. "I miss you, so you can't hang up, you just can't..." I yawned, fighting to stay awake for him, wanting to. "I miss you too." That realization sparked my brain. "Edward?" "Yea?" "Being without you… being alone…. I hate it." He seemed to be taking in my words, his silence causing a quiver in my belly. "Edward?" "I'm here." "Oh." I waited. I waited for him to say goodnight, for some type of excuse to end our phone call. "Bella?" "Yes?" "Same," he murmured. "I feel the same…" I relaxed. "Show up to school next week." "Is that an order?" The smile in his voice was evident. I choked, really feeling the absence, really hurting at the way no one I had previously known wanted to know me any longer. "I…I need you." "Bella are you okay?" he asked this, concern lacing his tone. "Please?" That word was all I could manage. "Bella… I'll be there. I'll always be there." "Promise?" I waited for him to hesitate. He didn't. "I promise." A/N: Next chapter is all future. T/Y for all your reviews. Oh and I started yet another fic… go go gadget go. ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### #####

Chapter: 10

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. STAMPEDE OF A THOUSAND PULSES 10. Allowance My bank account was at an all time low. I could hear the annoyed huffs of the people lined up behind me, but that didn't stop my staring. I blinked at the figures. I wondered how on earth I would get through the final semester. I didn't have the credit for a loan, and so it would boil down to one of the two options; drop out of college, or ask my parents for help. I hadn't talked to Rene in the longest. I hadn't been keeping things afloat with Charlie either. It would be in poor taste to call only to ask for money. But my relationships had all taken significant blows… I hadn't bothered to nurture any of them. Things were difficult. When I wasn't studying, I was crossing town to visit him at college, and whenever he found a spare minute he would be sneaking visits to my dorm. It was pure luck that my room mate was hardly ever present, Edward took full advantage of this, insisting that he'd write my essays when I was too worn out from his sexual appetite. And he had. Edward had taken it upon himself to outline my work, reading for me, leaving my books littered with notes and pointers. He would always do this without my knowledge, leaving before telling me, texting me when he was half way gone, asking me if I made the grade. And I had. I was guilt ridden for turning in work that was aided—but if Edward was anything other than an addict, he was intelligent. School had never been a challenge for him. It came without the need to commit, and for this, I was left both envious and amazed. It was fortunate that this whole episode took place during the holidays. But the holidays were soon to be over. And my pockets were shallow. Getting Edward into rehab had taken a huge chunk from my savings, from the money that Charlie had so graciously given me, from the Summer jobs I had taken up. If things were to be kept in their normal maintenance, I would have to find another job, I would have to juggle school with work… and Edward. St Matthews Hope and Recovery was in part owned by Dr. Carlisle Cullen, a man who had been dedicated to rehabilitating others after the death of his teenaged son. I had paid a hesitant visit after Edward had shown up completely strung out. He was a mess, stuttering, laughing and cursing, and absurdly sexual. And then there was me—the over protective, under assertive girlfriend who in hindsight should have told him to get himself together—but did I? Of course not.

For the sun to be so shining so brightly you would have thought that this was a glorious day. My shoulders were at least relaxed. This had been the day after my final test, but still I was anxious. I had studied but I was never one to fair well in pressured situations. My roommate was no where to be seen. Her idea of college was party after party, making out with her various boyfriends, spending the weekend at her 30-odd-year-old-sometimes-lover's apartment. She was failing, but I couldn't see an ounce of worry in her eyes—this girl was quite obviously flighty, and proud. Edward had texted me relentlessly through the period. -The best thing in this world, is knowing that when all of this over, I get to see you.

-Even if the rarity of you failing happened I would still be here and I would still center my world around you. -No one here understands me, no one here is worth my time, no one here will ever replace you… my heart forever belongs to you. -Loneliness reminds me how much I take you for granted. -We'll celebrate the end with endless love making. - I can't wait to hold you again. -I love you. I want you. I can't wait to have you. -Tell me you feel the same way. -Please. -Bella please. -I need you. -Why haven't you answered yet? -I hate myself. -I hate everything. -I hate everyone. -But I love you. -Bella please answer me. All of those, sent within the matter of three hours. I knew this pattern well, frantic words, a splutter of admissions. He needed me. But I had been asleep. I was too zoned out to hear the continuous buzzing of my phone. Waking up to those messages had been the most terrifying thing. Edward had been clean for 2 months. Things were looking okay, his usage of drugs being only the occasional smoke of weed and his continuous use of nicotine. I then checked my voice mails. -Because you won't answer your fucking phone I'm c-coming over there. You better not be fucking around Bella, not fucking anyone else, d-don't' doubt me when I say that I'll blow a fucking fuse if I find some other fuck in your dorm room! -Fuck you aren't with another guy are you? -I'm so fucking mad at you! -For fucks sake how hard is it to answer your phone? -Are you mad with me? I'm s-sorry. I'm so sorry baby. I'm so fucked up. Please call me back when you get this. -I love you.

-Do you have any idea how much I love you? I'm almost there baby… I'm so sorry. My head was thumping; I deleted all of the aggressive ones, kept the sweet ones, and called him back. He said he was at the coffee shop half a mile away from the college grounds, and ordered me to meet him. I could tell that this would be eventful, our arguments of late had been more frequent—my tolerance for his slips was indeed slipping. Pulling up, I saw him pacing outside. I shut my engine off, and sighed, readied myself for whatever shit he was about to pull. It wasn't that I was resentful, or that I didn't want to see him, Edward was just… unpredictable. "You're wearing my shirt," he noted, pointing and smiling. "Yea…" I said. "Did you want a coffee or something to eat? I don't have anything back in the dorm." "No," he replied, dragging me to him. "Aren't you glad to see me? I'm glad to see you. You look pretty. Is that a new perfume? Did you get my messages? The one about Barbra?" I furrowed. "Barbra?" "Yea Barb, she's this girl I met outside the Met—you know the on campus bar? She's thirty, re-taking her final year of college, she dropped out when she got pregnant… she's real nice. She tried to kiss me the other night though… that didn't go so well. I told her… I told her that I was taken. B-but that didn't stop her… she was all over me!" I pulled back. "All over you?" He nodded smiling, eyes big and innocent. "She said I understood her, that no one understood her—but then I told her that no one understood me, that only you understood me. "And then she told me she wanted to fuck. But I told her no. No! I can't fuck you! I only fuck my girlfriend!" He yelled animatedly. "I only fuck Bella! And then, then I told her about that one time we did it at that concert, that open air concert, in the back on the blankets and no one even noticed… How hot it was…" "Edward… you can't, you can't tell people stuff like that." "Why not? Why can't I? I love you! We're in love, people in love fuck all the time!" I brought my hands to his face, used my thumbs and forefingers to pry his eyes open, checking his pupils… smelling his breath, a hint of something, what, I couldn't be too sure of. He went on, ignorant to my prying. "And so she told me that she wanted to do me anyway, kept saying I was handsome and sexy and that she needed a good fuck. And so you wanna know what I did?" I swallowed, not sure I was willing to hear anymore. "I leaned forward, right up to her ear, whispered in it—because I know that you like that… you like when I talk slow in your ear, and I told her… I said 'go fuck yourself Barb' and then I laughed, because the look on her face was so fucking funny… and she started, she started crying… it was hilarious! She wanted to use me Bella… she thought she'd get away with it, but I told her…" He pulled back from me, a grin on his face, an odd wide alert grin. He was behaving manically… this only happening once before—his sentences not stutters but fluid to a point of no inhaling. "I didn't touch her Bella, I swear, I kept thinking about our time at that concert and I was so horny just… oh God! And then, and then my dick got hard and I ran out the bar… I ran, and ran until I hit the station… that's when I took the train… I took it to come see you. Aren't you glad? Aren't you proud of me baby?"

I nodded. Not really caring. Just wanting to get him inside. Somewhere where he could sleep off his high. We walked arm in arm to my truck, his bright smile never faltering. His kisses coming every minute or so on my cheek. "I love you." Was said about ten times over. I remained quiet until we reached inside, insisting that he flush out his system with copious amounts of bottled water. The last time, he took E, was after his mother walked out… only to return two weeks later. Edward had laughed for ten minutes straight, calling his mother weak, scared of being alone. Cocaine was a regular feature, that was probably the hardest of them all for him to stop. "Its only E, it won't do anything bad baby," he whined, reluctantly chugging down the water. "Plus I'm plenty hydrated now." I wasn't sure what to do, I hadn't checked up online if drinking aided or disarmed the drug. I panicked slightly, eyeing the now two empty bottles at the side. "Okay… that's good enough," I said, taking the third bottle from his hands. He rested back onto the bed. "Come." He pulled me to him, kissing my head. "I'll let you rest for now. Sleep on me okay?" I nodded, closing my eyes, faking my slumber. I could tell that he wasn't sleeping, he wouldn't sleep at all tonight. Instead, I breathed as steady as I could, feeling the repetitive, gentle stroke of his fingers. In the quiet of our surroundings, he stopped his movements. "I'm sorry," he whispered faintly.

Being woken up in the middle of the night minus my underwear was disconcerting. I had forgotten that he was with me, a moment of frantic thinking as I tried to remember how I was suddenly naked. "Hello baby." A smile on his face as he appeared out of nowhere. "Hey," I replied, relieved. Edward was naked too, his behind in full view as he walked about my room, reading a draft of my thesis. "This is good baby." He took a bite of an apple, chewing as he read. His stare shifted, his eyes fixing themselves to my breasts as I sat up. "You look better," he noted slyly as he neared me. "I took the liberty of undressing you… to save time." I sucked in a lip. "Edward. We need to talk." He smiled, crawling up, placing his knees at either side of me. "That's an ominous start." "You were high…" "Hmm," he hummed. "I promise… last time." He bent to kiss whatever skin he found. "I was stressed about school, I was missing you." I pushed him off. "I'm serious. I went to see someone, a while back… about this." I gestured between us—meaning to refer to the drugs. "He said you could come see him, anytime…" Edward snorted. "Oh please." "Don't be like that…" "Bella I'm okay alright? Fuck I'm fine!... Now please, lets just… make love, I promise all will be well again. I just want to be in you right now… I need you."

I hilted his movement with a hand to his chest. "You need help, other than me. I should be more firm with you. I shouldn't let you get away with this…" I felt him giggling, his breath heating the space between my breasts. "You want to play mommy? Is that it?" I blanched. "No… no I'm not trying to be her…." He laughed a little harder. "I'm joking baby, relax, I know I can be… troublesome at times." He looked up, resting his jaw to my chest. "But, trust me… I'll get better, I'll get better for you." All the tenderness, the way he looked at me, the glaze of tears that were threatening his ducts… I stroked his face, and told him okay, told him to make love to me—because now, I wanted nothing more than to be close to him… and this was sometimes the only way I knew how. "I love you," he whispered. "I love you too." "Are you… ready?" I nodded, felt him against me, felt his cock slip inside, and with that contact I sighed, not relieved, not happy, not satisfied… but scared. When my usual whimpers and moaning evaded me, Edward's eyes came to meet mine. "Are you… are you… doesn't it… feel… good?" I nodded, releasing my breath, closing my eyes as he moved inside me. His neck strained, his swallowing deep, Edward grunted pushing deeper, wanting to hear me aloud. "I need you… fuck… to, ahh fuck,.… tell me baby, tell me it feels… good." I gripped his hips, circling mine with his, pushing him in, not wanting to let go, not wanting him to disappear. I wanted him here. "It feels good," I breathed. He groaned, pushing his face into my neck, licking the skin harshly before pulling back to stare into my eyes. "Tell me you love me… say you won't ever leave…." He thrust into me. "Come on Bella… tell me what I need to know." He thrusts harder. I moaned in response, nodding through my haze. "I love you Edward," I said, bringing my fingers to his lips. He kissed the tips before speaking, "And you won't… leave me …will you?" He pulled out, sliding back in, this time more gently. "No… never." I dropped my hand, the tingles from my coming orgasm working its way down. "Oh… oh… Edward…" He hummed, began sliding in and out at a hurried pace. I could hear everything, the slap and slip of our skin, the way the bed creaked and shook, the continuous short breaths we gave. This was us. Our need for one another so bad. The manipulation in his words.

The promise in mine. The love, however twisted… dominant. We loved each other, no one could take that away… but at some point, the good, the bad, the ugly—it would all collide. And the only thing left would be an aftermath too big for either of us to clean up. I knew that sooner… later… …that it wouldn't be me who would end up leaving. I clutched his chest to mine, savoring each moment and kiss. And it was then I realized… Edward would get better. I would get worse. This was how it was meant to be. A/N: Sorry for it not being all totally future bound… I promise it will be soon enough. ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### Chapter: 11

A/n: Concerning timelines, if B and E are in high school consider this prior. All other instances are present/future. Sorry for the confusion. And now it's time for Edward's view. Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. STAMPEDE OF A THOUSAND PULSES 11. Realizations revisited I want her to know how much I love her. I try to show her. I text, I call, I visit. I make her shiver, soft kisses, gentle touches, whispered words, deep confessions… I let her know how much I need her. Before me there was no other and I plan to keep that as is. I want her to realize that I am it for her, that she is it for me. I scorn myself for all those taunts I gave—when I was young and cocky and my ego tripled seeing the warmth rush to her cheeks…my words careless but only because back then I wasn't aware. I am aware now. I'm so aware that it scares me. The thought of her leaving me—I would surely fall. Bella doesn't know her power. She doesn't understand her pull. She says I'm her drug, and as I may substitute our high with other perils I am in greater need for her embrace. Life is one big bubble for me. I am on top of the fact that anyone can come along and burst it. And like the boy who was allergic to the earth surrounding I realize that without my cotton wool swathe, without my bubble wrapped binding, I am weak.

Sometimes I step back, I pull away for brief periods. I sit alone only to realize that I am all wrong, as raw as the dust sanded off a splintered wooden block, useless and without point. And yet she still comes to me, sweeps me up and holds me as if I am the most precious thing she owns because indeed, she does own me. I love her. I hope she knows. I know what's best… to leave, to let her carry on and be free. But I am too selfish to even fathom that reason. I want her for myself. And so I take, and take, until in the early hours of the morning, when she thinks I am sleeping at her side… I listen silently, as she weeps.

I watch as she sits by my bed, resting her notepad at my feet as I eat. She scribbles down her notes, a furrow of concentration between her brows. Bella is writing a winning essay I'm sure, but she doubts herself continually. I proof read her work for her… outlining small mistakes, surely down to weariness. I know I am tiring. I will try to make this up to her. I'll shower her in affections once she is done, I'll tell her how special she is, I'll kiss her wherever she tells me to, I'll pleasure and give her what she wants. But that's the thing. She doesn't want anything. Bella smiles at me dreamily. Closes her eyes and rests her head by my feet. "Baby come here," I say. She yawns adorably and speaks, "You rest. I'm okay here." "But I want you up here." She picks herself up after slipping off a pair of shoes. Crawling up like a kitten, and sighing into my chest as she drifts off into a dream world. I stroke her hair and kiss her skin, whispering to her although she cannot her, telling her how beautiful she looks all worn and torn and sleepy. I apologize for being grumpy. I apologize for taking out all my frustration on her, for my ever changing moods, those that come with my recovery, my need to sniff a clean line, my disgust when I realize how easy it is to go back. I am horrid. And still she stays, content and warm… murmuring my name in her sleep, sighing as if I am her savoir… my girl, I have duped her. But I won't release her. I won't let her go. I'll cling to her as long as I can… because I know I don't deserve her. I should be with someone as equally fucked up. I should be lying with a filthy whore, randomly fucking strangers. I should be publicly humiliated for all the warped things I've put her through. But that won't happen. She protects me nonetheless. When she awakes I ask her where the money to keep me here is coming from. She stutters before answering saying that it is all taken care of and I have nothing to worry about. Instantly I see the lie. I have taken so much from her—but I can't help myself, she is so lovely, I will probably end up taking more. I try to replace the little that I can. When she goes into the bathroom of my allotted suit, I riffle through her purse and write down her card details—striking gold I find a bank statement and my face drops. She is down to almost a pittance and has not uttered a word. I grab her cell phone, too frantic to search for mine and I call up—transfer a lump sum of my pointless funds into her account. I hear the shower in the bathroom run and am put at ease to the fact that she will be a while. The clinical voice answers me back when the transfer is complete. I toss my cards back into my wallet and shove it into the drawer at my side. When Bella returns she skips over playfully and grins at me. "Do you mind if I take a quick shower? Is that against the rules?" I smile at her. "Who cares? Do you need some clothes?" She nods and waits as I slip off the bed, fish my closest fitting t-shirt out and a pair of tight boxes.

"You can wear your jeans again right?" I ask. She nods, thanks me with a kiss and walks back into the bathroom. I watch her, misunderstanding her, frustrated, why would she keep this from me? I plan to ask when she returns. I know she'll freak out. She'll panic and say that my father won't be pleased once he learns of the missing money. I don't care. My father has more money at hand. Numbers are insignificant. "Why did you do that Edward? I told you—" "—you lied Bella." "I didn't want to upset you." "And you think I'm not upset now?" speaking lower, "I didn't mean to shout." Bella holds her head in her hands. She mumbles to herself, washing her face with her palms. "I'm sorry I should have tried to prepare myself more readily." I snort. "Prepare yourself for my fuck ups?" "Edward…" she whines. "I'm a grown woman, I should know how to care for the man I love." "You just turned 21…" She lifts her palms to the ceiling. "I just wanted to get something right for once. I was always ignoring the facts, brushing them under the carpet and then when I finally come to my senses and do the right thing I still end up needing to be rescued…" "You've taken care of me for so long. You've given up so much." She protests with a 'but I—' and I cut her off, "Listen to me. I am well aware how much I spoil for you, but I'm still that much of a bastard to let it happen over and over." And she knows I'm right, because she remains silent. I kiss her swiftly to let her know I that I'm not angered, I'm ashamed and in my weakness I let my face drop. I pussy out and swallow hard and at this she looks at me in remorse. "Edward… " My past few weeks of sobriety have made me conscious of all the filth. I am a horrible boyfriend. But she can't help herself; she kisses my face tenderly and tells me in her low soft voice that she loves me, that I am worth all the drama… that I am her baby. And oh God I want to push her away, shake her and allow her to be free, but it's too hard. Instead I moan at her soft touch, I grow hard as she circles over me, whispering soft promises. "Let me make you feel better… let's forget about this for now." I grab her hips and eye the door. "No baby…" But she doesn't relent, she says 'let me love you' all over again and I allow her to take me from my sweats and stroke me gently. "Bella… that feels so good," I breathe. She kisses my lips and with wide innocent eyes drifts down until her mouth is level with my cock. I gasp as she takes me in, swallow as she licks me in languorous caresses. I can't find my sense, or brain, or breathe as she sucks down so sweetly. A soft whimper escapes her throat and it vibrates and I curse and groan, fisting her silky waves of hair, encouraging her movement because I am weak. "So good… I can't… oh fuck… that is… that is…so…" She pulls me in deeper, hollowing her cheeks, her eyes vice shut, her passion firing up her need to please me. This

girl is addicted to making me feel this way. She makes me tremble, beads of sweat drips from my behind, I feel myself thrust upwards, lost in her ardour. I grab her head in both hands and ask her to relax in a cracked whisper. I ask her if I can guide her, if I can be so debauched to push and pull her mouth around me. She hums and so in a moment of lust driven madness I ask her to 'suck me baby' as I push and pull and oh fuck, it is beyond me. I can feel myself cumming. I can feel the fire in my chest as my cheeks grow hotter and my head begins to thump, stars cloud my vision yet I still stare down as her eyes are clamped shut. She gives and I take. I am a selfish bastard. I realize this as I feel the eruption approaching. I carefully lift her off and the absent suck of her lips and lick of her tongue are disappointing. But I see the gentleness in her eyes as she speaks, "But you didn't…" I cut her off, "…not in your mouth sweetheart." I painfully handle my erection and with a free hand scoot her up so that she was lying near my side. "I love you," I whisper, eyes to hers as I stroke my self slowly. She has the deepest gaze and without lifting her stare from mine she fingers my cock, circling the head and massaging the slit at my tip as I grunt and fall into her neck. She pushes down as I cum and I erupt so violently that I can't move thereafter. I groan as she fetches a damp cloth and wipes me clean. We lay there until she has to leave. I don't want her to. I want her here forever. Because I am selfish. But I relent and let her go. She will be back tomorrow.

Dr. Cullen has a way with words. They are few in number, he stares at you long after you've spoken and then he sighs before taking his turn. I can't be sure if he jaded, tired or one of those men that prepare a speech in his head before utterance. He thanks Emmett after he hands him a set of folders. Sometimes I wonder what it is that Emmett actually does... He seems to be a counsellor, but he's more of a friend. He is forever smiling. He is forever happy. I don't get him. In a place like this, melancholy should run riot. The doctor coughs into his fist, excusing himself and reaches for a glass of water. Every now and then I catch him looking at me. It's as if my presence disturbs him. He keeps coughing. He keeps excusing himself. He keeps reaching for that glass of water. I wonder if I should ask him if he's okay, but that's the thing with Dr. Cullen, he makes me feel young and simple all over again. I rub at the scruff on my jaw as I struggle to pull myself together. I have been clean for over 8 weeks straight, not even a pall of weed has wafted my way. My temper has been suppressed in the last 2 weeks. I'm not so snappy. My need for sex… is still there. I will be the first to admit, it has always been necessary. This seems to be a hot topic for the doctor, he tips his glasses on the edge of his nose as he speaks, "And you necessitate these desires?" "I have in the past." He writes, clicking his pen up once he's done. "With various partners?" I shake my head precipitately, thinking of what this question would do to my girl. "No, I have her." "And she is happy to fulfil those desires?"

I furrow a brow. "What do you mean?" "I'm not implying that you are in anyway fixated on the perverse Edward." I huff feeling as though I am talking to a parent. "If you're asking if our sex is frequent… then yes." He writes something else then, leaving me feel increasingly uncomfortable. I begin to fret. I begin to worry he'll advice me against making love to Bella. I realize that if he does, I would at least have to try… this thought is terrifying. The longest I had gone without it is no longer than two and a half weeks. I would forfeit sleep to travel back and forth and visit her. I would spend countless amounts of money on hotel suits to just hold and be in her. Going without it… it would make me feel single again—alone. I associated the whole world of sex with Bella, she was my lover, my appetites' contentment. If he made me give that up, how else would I please her? I wasn't good at anything else. I couldn't offer her anything else. All I was good for was fucking. I begin to feel nauseated. "How long have you been with your partner?" "Since I was 17." "And your desire is mainly aimed towards only her?" "I love her," I confess. The doctor scribbles more down. I feel my heart pound. I was ready to be on the defence. Dr. Cullen eyes my crossed arms, his eyes quickly flicking back to his note pad. I roll my eyes, clenching every muscle possible in my body. "She feels the same?" "Yes," my tone clipped. "She tells you this?" "Everyday." "And you are in need of hearing this?" "What fucker wouldn't be?" He writes some more, eyes hard at my language. "During all those years of using, what drug was the most prominent?" "A mix of coke and weed." "Did you experience cramping?" I clutch my stomach in remembrance and nod. I wonder why the fuck that is even relevant, seeing as his area is that of a psychoanalysis but it is what it is, I let him ask his one-hundred-and-one. "Did you ever put the people around you in any danger? Did you put yourself in any type of danger?" I shook my head. "I can't remember." I sigh trying to be as open as I was capable of being. "I only talk to my girlfriend; she's the only one I have a solid line of communication with. We fight like any other couple but it's never… explosive, she is… not the type to encourage hostility."

"She is a passive girl?" I spoke lowly, "She's not weak. She just knows how to deal with me, no one else could." "You love her very much." He is stating this. He can see it in my eyes. He can tell I am protective of what we have. He backs off. "During those moments, did taking those drugs in anyway cause you to hallucinate?" If this fucker thought he could peg me as a mental patient then he had another thing coming. "Fuck no." "So you had no moments of complete panic? No wonders as to whether or not you were being… hunted?" "I said no." He eyes me. "I only panicked when I reacted badly to the coke." "And how many times did that happen?" "Once or twice." "And what type of panic was it?" "I would just shake… vibrate… stutter… " He nods, takes a sip of water and writes. He looks me over as I stare everywhere but ahead. For some reason the doctor's presence stifles me. I am like a child in the naughty corner. I rub my arms, wishing for some comfort. Taking off his glasses, he clasps his chin in thought. He starts coughing again; a look of empathy sears though him. The doctor is contemplating something, what I can't be sure. He sighs heavily and drops his notepad to the side. "May I be frank?" He waits for a curt nod and continues, "I think, I can diagnose that for the past couple of years... you have been in a severe depression." Well I could have fucking diagnosed this myself. "There are no signs of a psychotic breakdown, your mental health despite your depression, seems to par on normal… although, counting all past events…" He recalls our sessions prior. The talks about my parents, how our relationship had always been strained, how I hated my mother, how my father seemed unaffected, how my sex life prior to Bella was illicit. "I think all of these things only added to your stress, your need for sex is a form of practised stress relief; you've become addicted to that feeling." I sigh heavily. "Bella is the only thing that gives me relief." Dr. Cullen speaks with much conviction, "She was in here at least four times prior to bringing you." He leans forward. "She feels guilty… almost responsible for the way you are…" My eyes shoot up. "But I've never blamed her for a thing." "I think she blames herself… son." His voice cracks. Tugging on the edge of his tie he sits back up. I shift about feeling a little less than worthy of being here. I think back to what he has said about Bella, about the responsibility she feels for me, about how much of mother she has played, a friend… a protector, a lover… It only weighs heavier on me. I begin to splutter a long string of confessions. How I would coerce her to do things with me, how my need for sex sometimes forced me to impose a number of questionable sexual activities onto her. The doctor cut in, mentioning that sexual aggressiveness was normal in a severe depressed state. But this didn't bring any

calm to me. As I spoke, I swallow compulsively, feeling ill. I tell him about our first time, how I was too rough, how after I asked her to favour the pill over condoms, how our ravenous love life caused her to get a UTI, how I still insisted on mutual oral sex when she was recovering. I was swallowing bile at this point. I even speculated that there may have been times she was discontented but still I pushed… I choke up. And then out of nowhere, I begin to cry. "Edward, please answer this as honestly as possible." I nod through tears. "Are you suggesting that you were abusive?" I shook my head violently. "Oh God…I just, I just think that maybe… I was too rough… too worried about my own needs…" "If you are in concern over this we can start a new program, you have an addictive personality, whether that be sex or drugs, it wouldn't matter… you just need to learn how to control it." "I just want her to know that if I have to… in order to have her as I should, I'd give it up. I'd do anything." "Have you ever felt… abused by me?" Bella raises her eyes brows, lifting her head from my chest only to chuckle and kiss the bare skin above my nipple. "No." "I'm serious baby. This is a serious question." Her hair cascades over her shoulder as she shifts onto her stomach. "Never Edward, don't even think that…" She strokes my cheek tenderly. "Why would you say that?" "I know that there have been times… times when I demanded sex…" She smiles coyly. "And I wanted it," she whispers. I breathe slower, wanting to catch her out, wanting to see if she was again covering up for me. The sick thing is that her wide innocent eyes are a turn on, I try my best exert restraint. "Don't lie to me Bella, I need to know." "Edward, no..." She huffs and looks at me confusedly. "I always want you." I lift her onto me whole; tell her to look into my eyes. "Please don't lie to me." "Edward I would never do that." "When you go back… I want you think about it, about us, I want you to think about why you're here and why you're with me…. And if you feel obligated… to be with me, because of the way I am." She furrows her brows. "I love you."

"I know you do." "Then why do you doubt?" "It's not that. I just… I love you so much; I want you to be happy." "Happiness is a state of mind… not a soul, not a spirit." She laces her fingers with mine. "Happiness isn't my heart Edward, you are." "You're sad," I whisper. "Because you are." "Don't be." "I can't help being whatever you are. I am you Edward. And as long as I love you, I always will be… and so what if I have to go through a little heartache every once in a while? Everyone hurts at some point." "You deserve better." "So do you." "Then if that's the case…" I breathe inward. "Why are we together?" I can see the pain in her gaze. I've done that. I did that with this question, with my drug taking, with my selfishness. "Oh my God," she breathes. "Are you breaking up with me?" Lifting herself of my chest she stares at me in disbelief. I sit up. I hold her face in both hands. "Be truthful." My eyes glass over, my chest tightens in preparation for the heartache I'm about to impose. "Tell me this is good for you." She doesn't answer. Bella's eyes are closed, she opens them slowly only to release a sudden streak of tears. I brush her cheeks with my thumbs, every fibre of my being urging me to just crush her to my chest, to lay her down, to lavish her body in kisses. I wasn't practised in anything else. This was the only comfort I knew… But as I look at her, I see all the years I have stolen. The innocence I have pierced. The sweet girl I have mistreated. And I have never felt as filthy. I tremble, my lips quivering as my body took on the realization. With her face in my hands, her tears falling straight and merging with mine, I beseech her with deep tenderness, "Tell me I'm good for you Bella. Tell me this has been the best situation you could have ever been thrown into." She collapses on top of me. Her cries muffled by my skin. She whimpers against my chest. "You can't do this to me." "But I love you," I murmur. "I love you so much." "You asked me not to leave you…" "Because I'm selfish… because I don't want to see you go." Her fingers dig into my chest. "You don't have to… I'll stay forever." "And be unhappy forever."

"We'll be happy one day Edward…" "I can't keep using you like this." There is a tight silence. Lying on our sides, we face each other until our tears subside. We hold hands until our breaths return to a normal pace. We kiss, and kiss, until I pull away. I stroke her cheek with a lone thumb. After about two hours of kissing and staring she leaves… The next morning I awoke. Bella had left me a text message. -I'll wait. I text back. -I don't deserve you. She texts back straight away. -I'm not a merit. I'm the love of your life. I reply. -I want to be better for you. She replies. -I'll take you as you are. My word is final. -Don't. (Long) A/N: Even though this story is still unknown,I must thank all my regular readers and I must apologize for my mistakes. Until I can find the spare time to communicate and find a beta, things won't be as perfect. I've heard that many people considered my Edward to be an ass, depressed people can be like this sometimes; see it as an illness, not a state of mind. I had inkling, one that told me some would be smart and figure that Edward was bi-polar. I can't say that it didn't cross my mind, but after much thought making him that way just seemed too easy. I didn't want to write Edward like that. To be honest, it would have felt like I was writing about myself… and well that would have been awkward. It was weird enough that I had Dr. Cullen ask Edward some of the same questions I was asked before I was diagnosed. And yes, at one point they asked me if I thought I was being chased by people, apparently this is common in psychotic depressions. And no, I'm not psychotic, or a drug/sex addict… ahem. I'm actually quite sexless, just call me Celibate Sally. Plus I'm pretty sad, I pine after Robert Pattinson's imperfect perfect-ness when no one's watching… anyone with this same problem is free to loan me their support. ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### Chapter: 12

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. STAMPEDE OF A THOUSAND PULSES 12. Purged I want Bella. I can't think straight. I have a permanent hard on. I think about her, all the time. I read her texts, all the time. I listen to her voicemails, all the time. I hear the cracked words at the end of each one, "I love you. I'll wait. Please call back." I don't. I cry. I pick up my cell phone. I dial her number. The last digit taunts me. I hit the end button. I growl. I curse. I say 'fuck!' to no one. I say it to myself. I crash the cell into my head, over and over, I bang it to the hard temple of my skull and I sob. None of this makes me feel better. I know that only she would be able to do that. Falling back onto the bed, I take hold of my erection, I am silent and somber as I stroke. I masturbate and cry. I cum and I lay there. I feel empty. I miss her. I want to be selfish again. I want to ask again. I want to take again. I want to kiss and rub and speak and fuck. I want to see her. But what good would come of it? I'd get my girl back, but would she be happy? I can't do that. I can't be that person anymore. I fall asleep.

We sit in a circle. Each face tells the same story. 'I hurt her', 'I hurt him', 'I hurt myself'. Emmett introduces a new resident. She is 19 years old, she has been addicted to coke since she was 17, her mother staged an intervention, her father doesn't care, he remarried and has a new family. The girl speaks low, her voice a heavy rasp and unsure. Her words are spaced apart. Her neck strains at each break of a sentence. She looks to the carpet as she talks, "I've been clean for 2 weeks. I want to stop. I only started… because I wanted this guy to like me. He was like this. He liked me because I was like him. He overdosed 3 weeks ago." The room is silent. Emmett rubs her back as she cries silently and tells her that she is not alone. "Can someone share their story? Let Kate here see that progress is possible?" Maria speaks up. Maria is a 40 year old single; she got into heavy depression after a one night stand that left her pregnant. She miscarried due to her promiscuity in her teens; the countless abortions had left her body unable to carry the baby successfully. She started slowly… weed, LSD one night after meeting a 20 something musician, coke after the LSD freaked her out, anti-depressants after she decided none of those were for her. She's here now. She's been here, on and off for the past year. She relapsed a month ago. "I thought I'd be married by now with at least 2 kids. A husband… he wouldn't be perfect, but we'd be okay. We'd fight and we'd make up. Life would be… alright… I'd be fine." She looks to Kate. "You can be okay. You're still young. You can be better than this…" The word better cuts through me. I clear my throat. I speak through my tiredness, "I started using when I was 15. My parents were having problems, didn't have time for a teenaged kid. I don't think they ever really did, I would act up all the time, even before the drugs." Kate's eyes washed over me, she seemed to be listening, she wanted to know more.

"I ended up falling hard, for this girl. I still love her." I looked around the room, aware that I hadn't uttered a word about Bella until now—feeling heavily protective of her, of us, not wanting anyone else to have or intrude or comment on our love. "I broke up with her a week and a half ago. It hurts like fuck. But I had to. She's so pure… I would only make her unhappy… I was making her unhappy." Emmett spoke, "She'll wait for you..." I looked to him. "I know." I spoke lower, "There's a part of me, that doesn't want her to… but the dominant part, the part that I know is going to always win… can't wait for this to be over. I just can't to hold her again." "Did she use too?" asks Kate. I shook my head. "Never." "And you still wanted her?" I furrowed my brows. "I love her." "What made you love her?" "She's Bella," I said simply. Kate looks to the floor; I know this doesn't give her the answer she is looking for, but people… other people will never understand. For me love is nonsensical. It isn't determined by facts or elements, it comes out of the blue… or at least for me it did. I walked into class one day, saw her smile at me after we handed in our joint answer sheet and just knew. I was going to love her. I was going to make her love me back… I was going to trap her… make her never get away… because this girl was mine…. all mine. Even if now I knew that she loved me. Back then I didn't. I thought she was in heavy like. I thought she wanted to date the bad boy. I thought she was bored. But it was different for me. I saw all of her. I saw the qualities that made her beautiful, despite her self doubt. I saw how right she was. I decided I wanted her. I wanted to have a piece of what was right in my life—because everything else was so fucked. I was hooked. I sucked her in and she filled me up. But whispers would always creep back in. I would tell myself 'she doesn't really love you', 'make her want you', 'make her need you just as bad'. I decided to entice her, for all I was was a boy; a hormonal boy who knew no better, I had nothing better to offer... I would do really naughty things to her. I'd spread her, yank down her pants as she would lie on my bed to complete her homework. I would tell her to keep reading whilst I tasted her wet. I'd hum into her with lust; lick and suck, whisper perverted things against her core. She'd sigh and moan and feed my tongue, it always ended with me smirking against her in triumph. Every time she came over I would do it. Eventually she would do it back. Eventually we would do it every other day. I had to keep her. I kept her this way. I took her virginity. After that we made love so often it became a happy habit. We became enslaved to this; to sex… we were so obsessed with it, so in need of it. When she turned 19, I sensed a change. She would still make love to me, we would still fuck, but when we went to bed at night I was sure I could hear her cry. She would cry a lot. Cry all the time. But I chose to ignore it. When we awoke in the morning, whether together or apart, I would tell her I loved her. This made her happy for a while. I think she was happiest when I told her that. Being told that became our new thing. I love you, I love you, I love you was our mantra. But then the paranoia kicked in… don't leave me, don't leave me, don't leave.

I had to keep her here. I did my best. It worked. It still would have worked. But now I knew better. I had to let her go.

I've been clean for 3 months. I had paid Bella back; the only money keeping me here was my own. Emmett had cut back on his hours. His girlfriend was pregnant. She was now on maternity leave. She was always attentive, and like Emmett was somewhat of a friend to me during my stay here. "Knock, knock." Tanya pokes her head around the side of my door. "Just came to say goodbye." She didn't look pregnant. I smiled at her; she was in a patterned blue sundress, her everyday appearance at first catching me off guard. "You look nice," I told her. She laughed and twirled as she entered. "It's a strange feeling coming in here and not wearing my regular gear." "Suits you well." "The pregnancy or the dress?" Her eyebrow arched. "Both," I say with a genuine smile. "You tryin' to steal my girl Masen?" Emmett bounds into the room with a grin on his face. He sweeps Tanya up into a quick and firm kiss. She swats his shoulder coyly before turning back toward me. "It's so good to see you on your way to a full recovery." "Yea," I shrug. "I guess so." Emmett offers a half smile. "Well its after hours, Tanya just wanted to let you know that if you ever needed anything… we'd be here." I nod solemnly. There is something I want, someone to be precise… but neither of the two is equipped to grant me that. I suddenly want to be alone. Speaking isn't what I want to do right now. Sleeping seems like a much better option. Tanya walks over and hugs me wholeheartedly. The contact is brief but sweet. I smell her, she doesn't smell like Bella, but nonetheless she is female, a good one—almost like the girl I let go. I remind myself daily that this is the right thing to do. I have to be sure that I am good enough for her, I want to be. Emmett pats me on the back and takes a hold of Tanya's hand. Within minutes they are gone and a new loneliness swallows me whole. I hug my pillow to my chest, I imagine it's her and in the solitude of my own self pity I fall into a deep sleep. "I'll be the first to say that I've made mistakes in my life that are just… irreversible." We are in a circle yet again. A different group though. This group is for the depressed and suppressed. Clean for four months—I've decided to deal with my depression. We talk about stuff that to me seems only more depressing. In an odd way it is nice to know that I am not the only one with shitty parents. One girl here was abused, another was thrown out after she got pregnant, most have just given up on life. Jasper has been here for two weeks. For his appearance it would be hard to believe someone like him had ever been in the place he was now speaking of. He wears a tie dye t-shirt and ripped jeans, his hair is a mess of waves that look courted by sea salt and his posture is severely relaxed.

"I watched the love of my life turn her back on me. I had put her through hell. I was constantly miserable, only attentive when I wanted sex or food… she put up with me for six and a half years." I lean forward. I want to know what happened next. I need to know that he had her again. I want to know that happy endings are real. "She's with this other guy now." I guess not. "She's happy, real happy, and you know in a strange way I guess I am too. I guess I'm just relieved to know that someone is treating her right." I never treated Bella right. "He buys her things, takes her out, pampers her…" She's bound to move on and forget about me. "The other day I called her up, asked her how she was doing. We spent two hours on the phone, most of it was me apologizing, and she says she forgives me— but I'm not so sure that I can forgive myself." He looks to me before continuing. "She said that if I don't then I'll just fall back into the hole I was in for the past 4 years. I want to do it, but I can't bring myself to forget." Neither can I. "She said forgiving and forgetting was the only way she could be happy. So my aim, my main aim after getting over this shit way of living and being down all the fucking time… is to forgive, myself, and then, forget all the pain." Not so easy. "And it won't be easy… but I'm hoping it'll be worth it." I speak quietly, "Do you want her back?" He nods and shrugs. "Yes… No… I just want to be happy." The whole circle is silent for a while. It's evident that happiness is a hard thing to determine. If you are missing a part of you, a person you feel you can't live without how can you then go on and be happy? How can you suddenly decide that its okay and life goes on? I don't think I can do that. I think my happiness lies within knowing that I can make her happy. And as I share an understanding silence with Jasper, I think he knows this too.

"Hey Edward." "Kate," I say. She huffs and sits on the grass with me. It is my last week here. I've missed a total of nine weeks at college… I know that when I return things will be hectic. It has given me reason to question it all. I contemplate dropping out. If anything I can continue at a later date. Studying just seems a milestone away from where I think I'm capable of

being. "I spoke to my mom today," she tells me. "She's ready to take me home." I smile. "That's great." "I know… I just… worry." "About what?" "About going back to that same place, falling into the same shit." I sigh, knowing that I am in fear of the same thing. "You just have remind yourself of all the work you've done to get over it." "You think that's enough though? Don't you think that there'll be a time when you just look back and think 'well fuck' I can always go back to rehab…" In an odd way I understand. It's a matter of safety netting. It's knowing that you'll always have something to fall back on. In Kate's case it's her mother. "Don't make your mother resent you." She grabs a fist full of grass and rips it clean from the earth. "I bet Bella doesn't resent you." I don't reply. I suck in a breath at the mention of her name. Time apart is hurtful but in a tepid way sobering. "I bet she can't wait to have you back." She starts to ramble. "I bet she'll jump into your arms and cover you in kisses… scream, yell, kick… I bet she'll be super happy to know that your there… I bet—" "Stop." We don't say anything to one another for the remaining amount of time. After a few minutes pass I get up. Kate looks to me with soft green eyes. "I'm sorry if I upset you." "It's fine," I say tightly. "I just hope she knows how great you are." I scoff at her hollow compliment. "I mean it Edward. You're a good person." "You have no idea; no clue what I've put her through." "And yet she still stuck by you… she wouldn't have done that if she didn't see good in you." I kick the ground lightly, looking about, soaking in the surroundings for the last and final time. "I'll miss you," she murmurs, fisting another handful of earth. I smile halfheartedly. "I guess in a weird way, I'll kinda miss you too." Kate looks up, sharp pupils turning into circled spheres. Her smile is genuine, and I'm happy that I've made someone so bright. "Thanks Edward," she tells me. "That means a lot."

I walk off soon after. I shuffle closer to my room for the last night, dreams of Bella and our reunion… It has been a whole five weeks without her. I hope she is okay. I haven't replied to her texts or calls in hope of her seeing that I'm serious—this isn't an empty vow. I hope that sooner rather than later I'll be able to take her in my arms a different man. I hope she remembers the good times and trashes the bad. My phone vibrates. Another text. I read it with a throbbing in my chest. -I'm sick and tired of you ignoring me. I stare at the screen until the phone vibrates again. -I'm sick and tired of waiting. I hold in a breath as my phone begins to ring. I pick up. "Love me," she says. "Love me or I'll leave, I'll go back to Arizona." Her voice is shaky, a quake of breath as she awaits my reply. "Oh Bella…" Her voice pulses in my ear, tugging at me, pulling me into some type of trance as I push out unintelligible words… I hear her inhale, I can imagine her tears as she yells into the receiver, "Fucking tell me Edward!" I can't speak. The sound of her voice sending uncontrollable tremors down my spine, the relief, the pain, the anguish, it pits itself in my stomach, I feel my arm spasm as I clutch the phone starkly. "You're a selfish bastard," she cries. "You put me through hell, and just as you get better you push me to the side… you kick me out… you ignore me!" I hear her sobs break down, each making a separate noise from the next, each marking her pain, each clouting mine. I swallow harshly. I breathe heavily as I try my best to reply. "I'm sorry… sorry, so sorry…" "Is this it?" "For now," I whisper. "Only for now." "What makes you think keeping us apart is benefiting either of us?" "I've had time to think… time to see how terrible I am." I hear her scoff. "You are trying me." "Hear me out… try to understand this baby, I—" "—don't fucking call me baby," she sneers. This side of her is new. This side of her is frightening. Still I long to see her, I long to see the redness that is

probably taking over her hue. I long to see the way she snarls, the way she eyes me so disdainfully. I long to just see her, period. With sober eyes I think of how different she may look, I think that maybe her hair has gotten longer, her eyes less sleepy due to my departure, her skin brighter. I think that maybe she will be fuller in the hips… a nice gain of weight, a soft touch of flesh as I hold her body to mine… I think of making love to this new Bella. I think of her scratching me bare in anger and desperation. I think of her beating me as she cums. I think of her biting me in her fury. I want her punishment. I crave it. "I love you," I blurt. Her breath hitches. "I love you," I repeat. Still no reply. "I'll always love you." "Come away with me." I swallow thickly. "Come away with you?" "I'm leaving school." "But why?" "Too many questions, too many tests, too many people… I can't take it anymore." "But you've worked so hard… you can't throw that away Bella, I won't let you." "Come away with me," she says, her words sharp, I imagine her speaking through clenched teeth. "You want me to leave college?" "Yes." "My family?" "Yes." "Everything?" "Yes." This side of her is selfish. It mirrors the old me, and the next set of words hit home like a thunder bolt. "You'll come… if you love me." This sweet girl, the one that stood by me is throwing my words back to me. She is ready to push and pull, to manipulate and take. She ready to do what ever she has to in order to keep me. The silence between us is threatening. I know she is awaiting my reply, but when I fail to answer she retorts with "—say yes, say yes or I'll die… I'll fucking die. Do you want that? Do you want me to die?" Her words prior haunt me. "Happiness isn't my heart Edward, you are."

"I can't help being whatever you are." "I am you Edward." I fall back in despair. My running is another selfish act. I am running from the terror of knowing what I've created. Bella's breathing slows. "I can't let you go," she whimpers. "I'm so sorry love," I whisper. "You were so good before me … look what I've done to you…" "I'm still good Edward." I croak in realization, my own words stinging the flesh of my head before slicing the air in its harshness. "No Bella…" I cry, "…you're me." A/N: Ok British readers: did you watch the 'British Connection' on Film 4?Did you see A Complete History of My Sexual Failures? Sorry to write something completely irrelevant in my AN but that film was so bloody hilarious and sad—esp. when he took those 8 Viagra's in one go and ran around asking any female he could find to have sex with him (sad and funny—hard combination). If anyone watched How to Be and enjoyed it you would definitely enjoy this film. As always thanks for reading, leave a review to tell me how bad/good you think I'm doing. I'll take it all on board (whilst I can) if you're constructive, sorry for my lack of beta goodness. What are you all reading? Have a fic of your own you think I'd like? Let me know. Look to my favorites to see my preferences. ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### Chapter: 13

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. STAMPEDE OF A THOUSAND PULSES 13. Time Lapse I'm here, outside. Emmett smiles at me, it doesn't quite meet his eyes—nonetheless he jogs lightly toward where I am stood. I notice his hair cut, he looks a little older with this. "Thank you for meeting me." "No problem Bella." He drags me into a warm hug. "How are you holding up?" He is nothing like Edward, muscles are hard and bulging, smell is faint, nothing too detectable. But either way, this hug is comforting. I take a while to respond. I've known him for a matter of 5 months now. He was here when I came prior to bringing Edward, a kind face that always greeted me, gentle talks and understanding shoulder pats. Now, it is slightly different. There is familiarity here. He's seen me low and high. He understands what and how I feel, the ache I get whenever I'm apart from Edward. He understands, because he's been here. "I'm coping," I say. "You?" He sighs, "She's keeping the baby. I couldn't ask her to get rid of it, what type of a man would I be if I did?"

We pull apart. Both of us seem to be looking to our feet. I note the largeness of his in comparison to mine… adult and toddler. My eyes drift back up. "Is he good?" "He's doing well, he's staying for another 2 weeks… he's made some friends even." I feel like a parent, I am anxious. I come here every day and every day Emmett meets me. His patience is admirable. He deals with me calmly. No signs of agitation. A smile always on his face. He looks tired but that doesn't deter his tolerance. "He misses you, talks about you all the time." "Then why won't he answer my calls?" "I can't speak for him Bella. He has his reasons. I know that he's waiting until he feels good enough. It's all he talks about now." "I don't care about that," I huff. "He's so stubborn. I told him. I told him it doesn't matter." We sit on a low stone wall placed just outside the front building. "Men are prone to proving themselves. I think this is what he's doing…"

I'm back here again. Emmett is here too. I see his girlfriend in the back; her stomach isn't too noticeable from the front. When she turns to her side however, the rise is there. She doesn't wave at me anymore. She doesn't even look my way. I think my appearance now annoys her. I think Emmett told her that he told me. "Don't mind her Bella." I ask if this is inappropriate. Emmett assures me that it isn't, that more than anything he is happy to aid me. "She thinks…" he stops shaking his head before laughing, "She's a little insecure." I almost blanch. I wouldn't ever attempt to do anything underhand with him; my heart is placed firmly in my ex's hands. She has some type of audacity to her though—Tanya isn't the angel she makes out to be. Her pregnancy is out of bounds, another man's seed. Emmett is in love, deep to the point he breaks at her every whim—bending would be too weak an expression. For this we understand each other. Edward has never been unfaithful with another woman, but he would cheat on me frequently with highs. There had been times I would feel second to those. And in a strange way, now that second place has been magnified. I am put to the side whilst he does his best to get over them. I was always in the way, a distraction with them and now a distraction without. There are no wins for me. "You don't deserve the silent treatment." He sighs audibly. "What can I do?" We walk outside, talking about nothing and everything. I think Emmett is my only friend. I can't recall sharing anything as deep with anyone else other than Edward. Suddenly I understand Tanya's worry. It would look suspicious, but knowing that it is nothing other than friendship causes me overlook it. She probably doesn't understand what being in deep love is like. She was more than ready to fall into another man's arms and so my reasoning calms me. Tanya deserves to be put on edge. I hope she realizes what she has in Emmett—assurance. "How's college?" "Hard."

"I can imagine." "You know he put more money into my account? He did it without even telling me… it's like he's paying me off, like money is an even substitute." I grow hot as I speak, words falling, spluttering as I think. "It isn't," I finalize. "He's just doing what he can to make it easier…" I cut him off. "Its sex or money… he's treating me like some type of inconvenience… like some type of…" Whore.

I'm losing it. I'm sure of it. A former classmate places a slow hand on my shoulder. I shrug it off. "Don't," I bite. Jacob flinches away. "Sorry." I shake my head. "It's not you; I'm just… not in a good place right now." He nods, goes back to reading his book as we sit at the library table. "You're a great girl you know," he suddenly says. "…worth a lot more than whatever you're going through." Gossip travels fast around here. It would be every week people would catch a glimpse of Edward. He would saunter about our grounds and drink at local coffee shops as I clung to his side. People knew we were inseparable. Even during party seasons, when the students ran keg parties and open mic nights happened on local ground, he'd be there with me, arms around me, lips on me, my time possessed by his. People knew. They knew something was wrong once his absence was apparent. Jacob continues, "You should let someone show you that." I keep reading. I feel his hand push my book down. "I mean it Bella." "You don't know anything." "I know you're sad. I bet I can make you smile…" I turn, I give him my attention because Jacob has always been sweet, but my tolerance is low and my ability to keep friends like this lower. I can't give him my time, my time is full of Edward—wanting him—needing him—it's never ending. "I bet you have a real pretty smile too," he says. "Jake…" "Just one chance." "I can't." "Because of him?" I don't bother to answer. Instead I turn back to my books. This should be clear enough by now.

Depressed and lonely, heart hammering as I recall happier times. The day he brought me an obscenely large bear… it came to his knees as he held it upright. Grinning as he spoke behind it, "To keep you warm whilst I'm not around." I remember taking it from him, its large stuffed paws dwarfing my palms. I giggled and kissed its leather bound nose. "He's awesome." Edward looked on with his grin firmly placed. "Oh yea?" "Yea," I replied. "Well in that case…" Grabbing it, he chucked it behind me, onto the floor of my tiny dorm room. "Jealously is an ugly thing." I hugged him. "Stupid" I murmured into his chest. "Where did you get that thing?" "The toy store outside the station, I carried him and my bags on the train…" I giggled at the visual. "Thank you." "Not enough," he says between a kiss. "More thank you's are due baby." I roll my eyes. "Its all sex with you isn't it?" Edward grins. "Its called making love Bella… God, you are so crude." He is mocking me, because he is well aware that he is the crude one. "Whatever," I say. "Get in here." The door slams and he pushes me to my bed.

I have another dream of us. It's just us, alone, no interruptions, nothing but the ground we lay on. He isn't embracing me, but his grip on my hand is firm and holds promise. As we lay we stare to the sky, a cloud forms over us, it is clogged with moisture, ready to burst. It hovers. The sky turns grim and Edward's grip tightens. "I'm ready if you are," he tells me. I hold his hand tighter, and we welcome the rain. It pelts; it pours, and finally floods. We float up and apart, but Edward still holds my hand. We are so far apart that the hold is a struggle. We lose touch. He drifts away. I try to wade to him, the tide overpowers me but in good fortune he finds a piece of drift wood to cling to. I wake up in a silent panic. I hug my pillow to my chest; all of my worst fears are personified strangely in a dream. But I can only hope that it is nothing of true value. I hope he knows I love him. I hope that he is feeling that. I hope he wants me still. I can only hope. "Don't move on with out me," I say. No one is around to hear me. Charlie is here. He visits because I cried whilst on the phone. He asked what was wrong and I told him. I left out the part to do with sex, drugs and rehab, but I told him all about Edward. How much I loved him and how he broke my heart. Somehow I felt traitorous. I was so used to making excuses for him, covering all his mistakes—not this one. This mistake cuts. My father is silent whilst I tell him. At the end of it he sighs long and hard. "Dad?" "I'm here." "I'm sorry for complaining, especially after…"

"…its okay." Charlie forgives and forgets so easily. I've avoided spending time with him for so long, I've neglected him and all he does is say 'okay'. This makes me miss him more. He was never affectionate or open with me, but his sudden change in demeanor is comforting. My father hugs me as we meet, presses a hard kiss into the top of my head and murmurs words. He pulls back to take a look at me, his eyes traveling from my face to feet. "I know women are sensitive about their weight, but you look healthy." Healthy as in bigger. I gained weight since my split from Edward. I don't feel any different but my pants are a little snug. I wonder briefly now, if I look even worse than before. If when I finally get to see Edward he'll think I look bad. I pull my sweater down. "You look better for it." I look up. "Suits you." "Dad, you don't have to say that. I know I put on weight." "Speaking objectively Bella, I may be your father but it's fair to say that you look more of a woman for it." Charlie stays until midnight. I notice the bags forming under his eyes. I find handsomeness in his features, his aged skin and tired stare causes me to grow fond. Out of character, maybe even slightly inappropriate concerning our closeness, I get up from my side at the restaurant's table and take a seat next to my father. I wiggle my way into his arms. Hesitantly Charlie hugs me. "You okay?" he asks faintly. "I love you," I say. He just remains quiet, understanding that I need some type of physical consoling. And in an odd way this is enough. My father smells of smoke—Edward used to smell this way—my father is lean, only his stomach protrudes, if I ignore that he feels just like him. I shift onto his lap. "Bella…" he stammers. "We're in… company." "I know… I don't care…" I demand more contact, I hug him and hold myself close. It is by far the most loved I've felt since breaking up with Edward. It takes time but soon Charlie is holding me close to his chest. My legs are hanging to one side off his lap; it's as if I am a toddler all over again. I am aware that people are staring; maybe they think we are improper. As I look up for only a moment I see a slender and elderly woman cast a disapproving stare. I don't care. I allow myself to hug my father harder. "I'll always be here for you, you know that don't you Bella?" "Yes." "I love you, you know that right?"

"Yes." "More than that boy ever will, you that too right?" I hold my breath. I don't like that. I don't like the idea of anyone loving me more than Edward does. But Charlie keeps talking; he apologizes for not hugging me more often, mentions something about being emotionally retarded, says that I'm his little girl. I keep my head down as I listen. In an odd way the comparison between my father and Edward haunts me readily. Their faults are always covered up by love. I ignored the fact that Charlie was distant and always working because his passion for policing was more important. I ignored the fact that Edward was always so demanding because his need for attention was more important. Charlie leaves me with a long hug as he crawls back into his cruiser. "I'll call to make sure your doing okay," he tells me. I watch as his car departs. The loneliness I felt prior drifts back. I almost feel too weak to be alone. "…you're me." "You say that like its terrible." He picked up. He finally picked up and somehow I'm left feeling as though this call is a mistake. It is as if I've hit the wrong target. I've called when he's still in this rut. Edward is sniveling, I can hear him, I can imagine his nose running, him pulling at his skin as he attempts to brush away tears. My anger is apparent, if anyone should be weeping it should be me… and I am. I'm crying to the point of sourness. All I can taste is salt. Bitter salt. Edward is making excuses, for himself mostly. I'm not good enough. I'm not ready to go there. I'm trying to get better. And then he has the audacity to tell me that I'm acting like him, like it's a bad thing to be like him. I fell in love with that him. Is he trying to suggest that my love is no longer there? …Because he's no longer there? "Fine." "Fine?" "Yes… Fine. It's fine Edward." "What are you talking about?" I was talking about us. It came then. Edward's new judgment would never allow us to be together without guilt. I'd always have him saying sorry, I'd always feel like some type of empty incentive, some weird form of compensation. Months apart, left me with a hole. Some type of hole, a part of my thinking had been re-worked, my brain rewired. Although I knew I loved him, a part of me thought that maybe, his love for me, was now, somehow, different. Minus our lovemaking, it felt as though all we had was familiarity. This, in his case, didn't seem like enough for him to want me as much. He would be with me still otherwise. Maybe all we had was something physical. Maybe all my hopes and dreams and longings were supported on a very fine thread of flesh… that being his lust, nothing else. We were always closest when making love—or as he used to put it… fucking. Maybe all I was… was a good fuck. "I get it," I whimpered. "Bella what… what are you…" "It's okay... I mean, when I first… when we first… " "Bella…"

"…I'm an idiot right?" It was as though I was being blinded by tears. I had had enough of tears. Crying was a strenuous thing. I wiped my face. "How many times can a heart break?" I asked. "I think only once… for real at least." "Bella I don't understand." "Consider me broken Edward." "Bella just give me a little time, I can see it coming, I can see us happy…" We wouldn't ever be happy. This cloud would forever be over our heads. Edward would always feel a failure and I would always feel second best. Sex would keep us together and well, once our libidos died then what? What would we have? Would I be pining for him to hold me and tell me he still loved me at night? I would always be the pining. That really wasn't what I wanted. I just wanted Edward. I couldn't understand why he couldn't just want me back. Why we couldn't just be. It was as though he was holding us off—all I could notion was that he was abstaining from me for his own good. "It's okay Edward," I whispered. "It's fine." I had to keep saying it to believe it. "Bella… you'll wait right?" "For you?" "For me." I sighed ruefully. "So I guess, you coming away with me… won't be happening." "I can't let you leave school Bella… I can't let you give up because of me." I stay in college. I go about my business quietly. Days go by, weeks, months… Edward calls every weekend, each time he sounds clearer. That rasp in his voice lightens—he gave up smoking. He changed his major in college; he's prolonged his stay there now… he's decided to go into the medical field. We spend hours on the phone talking about school and work and all the new people in our lives. I still hanker for him. I'm not so sure it's the same. Edward seems happier in way. Our conversations don't drift to us anymore. Our conversations are free. In a way things are simple. In another way things are complex. I wonder if he wonders about my promise, about me waiting. He doesn't ever ask anymore. A/N: Get ready for a list of names. I had an influx of readers since last week. People have been rec'ing me for what ever reason, I still am surprised… Araeo, thank you for your kind words. Sunshine_00, nice on the twitter front. 22blue, you are so very kind. DragonsExist, for sweet pm's. Caren, yogacat, told me about your tweets, thank you.

nerac, thank you all for your pimpage. I heard a rumor that AngstGoddess003 rec'd this on twitter, but I have no twitter, so correct me and put me to shame if I am wrong. I make a fool out of myself every once in a while so no big deal. (Plus I can always delete this part in the future). To my new best ff bud, WhatsMyNomDePlume, you are so super talented; all of you go read Legendary (in my favs.) I sound like a groupie because I mention her everywhere… I probably am. If there is anyone else please tell me, I am ignorant to communities and groups and whatnot. I'm off to buy some brown henna; I had a major accident with red dye, I look like a scarecrow. ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### Chapter: 14

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. STAMPEDE OF A THOUSAND PULSES 14. Wishes I'm reading a magazine; to my left is a girl I befriended a while back. Her name is Lucy; she is exotic looking, her hair coils and glints a golden brown, and she has an uncanny ability to put the most on edge person at ease. She seizes quite a bit of attention, but she is the epitome of the nonchalant beauty—she hardly notices the heads as they turn. Lucy rambles on about the pitfalls of public bathrooms, "I'll tell you Bella, the student bar's shitter is disgusting… I got my hand sanitizer and several pocket Kleenex's at the ready." Tonight is some type of big event. A local band is playing—something I can't bring myself to care about. Rock music nowadays is too niched; too many genres within a genre, and if you were ever unfortunate to pick the wrong type you're credibility would surely be put to rest. I couldn't care less either way. Things like music snobbery always left me fizzled. "You bringing anyone Bella?" "No, no one," I reply, a forced smile edging its way through. Lucy whistles low, I've learnt that this is her way of starting a foreboding sentence. "You know Jake's gonna be there." I sigh. "Great." "I heard he's still all goo goo eyed over you." "Great." Lucy rolls her eyes. "Bella!" Jacob is in her Environmental Politics class. Sometimes I think she has a penchant for him, she speaks of his attributes frequently. Jacob is so smart, Jacob is so handsome, Jacob is such a gentleman. Too bad Jacob wasn't Edward. Lucy knows about Edward. She knows I'm still in love with him, but seeing as she only transferred a month

back she has no idea of what he looks like. Its funny to think, of our six years together as couple, not one photo has been taken to document our relationship. Edward wasn't a fan of photos. You can't embody anything real with a camera. It wasn't as if time was spared to take part in things such as photos. A lot of our time was allotted to just being. I can't recall anything 'fun loving'—at fairs, at movie theaters, at parks—it was always so serious with us. "I can give you a dress to wear," she offers, with eyebrows raised. "I don't wear dresses." Her face drops in disappointment. "Why not?" I shrug, my response coming out in a huff, "I'm coming… just no fancy dress."

The place is relatively packed. I only know Lucy and Jacob. She is otherwise engaged with a throttle full of admiring frat boys, Jacob only came over because he's attentive… he can see I'm feeling a little less than enthused. Once he is back with his friends, I am alone again. I am standing by the bar, not drinking alcohol but sipping on a slightly flat cola. One kind face smiles at me, but her partner pulls her to his side for a kiss and then, I'm forgotten. There are copious amounts of cool kids, indie looking young adults and jovial bouts of laughter. It's as if I'm watching it all from afar—each person beautiful in their own right, every face hiding something, every body holding their own truth close to their hearts…We aren't all that different. When I'm in social settings such as this, my mind drifts—I tend to think about Edward. If he's as awkward as I am or if he is as free as I know he should be. His face would fit here. He'd be the male version of Lucy perhaps—swathed in admiration. I smile at that thought. It's hard to forget how beautiful he is, or how in awe I was each time he was as close as only a lover could be. Lucy is by my side suddenly. "Bella, the band is about to start up, come sit at the table won't you?" I follow her. I sit. The band plays. They are good enough. I clap along with the whoops and cheers. For the rest of the night I make small talk, I nod, laugh when appropriate, and as time approaches early morning I am pulled to a quiet corner. "You're not that great of an actress." "I'm trying." "That's your problem Bella… you try too hard." Jacob knocks back his umpteenth beer. "You should let someone else take the freight… so you can loosen up." He looks me up and down; it's out of character for him, to ogle me this way. I cross my arms over my chest, look every which way. This isn't something I'm used to. "Dance with me," he says. I look around. "But no one's dancing." "A chance to test out your new found liberty." His smile radiated mischievously. Bringing me to his side he takes me the middle of the floor. "No one's looking Bella." Jacob eyes meet mine finally after all my frantic staring. He is right though, no one was looking—everyone a little too worse for wear to take in their surroundings. He places my hands on his shoulders, putting his on my waist. "Sway." I shift from foot to foot, my eyes meeting his

after sharing a mild smile. "Not so bad is it?" It really wasn't, no one turned to point, stare or laugh. Jacob was at least a foot taller than me, I felt protected, not exposed. "What's the point of this?" I ask sheepishly. "The point of being free is to explore and enjoy yourself—no limitations." I furrow my brows. "You've been single for a while now." He notes my grimace, but decides not to backtrack. "Time for you to realize that it's not such a bad thing to be free." "I was never trapped, I loved him," I retort defensively. He arches a brow. "Loved?" I tense up, hilting my movement. "I still do." "Ah…" Jacob moves for me. "Well, I'm sure wherever he is he's hoping that you're not stuck in a corner somewhere… He'd probably thank me for bringing you out to dance." I chew my lip, a slight hint of a smile there. "This doesn't mean anything—" "—I know, I know. I just wanted to see you smile, for real, for once." I smiled, for real. "Okay Jake," I said. "Okay?" "Hmm," I hum. I rest my head on his shoulder and we continue to sway. His arms come to draw me closer. "Happy yet?" he asks. I chuckle into him. He holds me tighter. And for a whole 10 minutes, we dance whilst no one watches.

"Hello?" "Bella," he breathes. My stomach twists as my vocals ready themselves to say his name, "Edward." "It sounds so good…" his words tumble out in one kept breath, "…to hear your voice." "Yea," I reply. Because his voice still has a silly effect on me despite the fact it's been only a couple of days since I last heard it. It's as if our nerves get the better of us for the first few seconds. But abruptly his tone changes, things turn casual. "How are things?" I sigh, but not because I can't help it. "Good." "Great." "What about you?"

"My head of department gave me a good word considering residency." "Oh?" It's been a long time since I last saw him. He was not so gaunt, still lean but carrying a certain amount of weight. Edward was clean. Brand new and alert, his smile shy, no cockiness in his stride, no dazed stares. His dress sense still extremely casual, the scuffs on his sneakers and wear in his jeans just as carefree. "I made sure to shave, wear deodorant and brush my hair," he had joked. Even if he hadn't he would have still been enough. It was a feat to not throw myself at him. My insides felt about ready to burst. We hadn't seen one another in something like 5 months since our breakup, our contact kept only by phone calls… promises of keeping on track in terms of studies and revision. " I'm planning to come to see you soon Bella," he promised. He kept it, and I reveled in our awkward moments together. Edward had taken me to the park. The day was raining and humid. Nonetheless we walked under a huge rimmed umbrella, I had hesitantly linked my arm with his—but this was to be the only physical contact. Edward had painstakingly explained his new found abstinence to me. His words were choking, coming out in splutter of admissions as we strolled slowly down a broken path. "To be clean… in every sense of the word." My hurt stare caught his attention, and he was quick to assure me that it was nothing untoward concerning us. "I'm trying to rely more on my own tolerance." We spent the whole day in that park, thankful that a small convenience store was near by, stopping only to grab a bite to eat. When evening fell he held me in a long embrace. "Soon," was all he said—I wasn't too sure what soon meant. But as I watched him depart I had hoped it meant everything I was dreaming of. His voice drew me back. "Yea," he says sheepishly. "I guess I caught up with work pretty quickly." I had always known he was capable. "I'm happy for you." "Just a couple more years and I'll be in full time work…" he chuckles at himself disbelievingly. "God, that's weird right?" I tug at my pajamas. "Yea… weird." "Who would have thought someone like me, would be advising others on their health…" "You were always meant for big things Edward." I realize just how true my statement is. A moment of quiet holds our attention before his cracked voice utters, "You too you know." Edward always had it in his head that I was just as capable. I was above average but not too far ahead. And my choice of the art history was limiting in terms of vocations. For a moment my mind wandered. I began to count the fluffy clouds placed childishly on my flannel nightwear, I was feeling entirely sub par. "Bella?" "Yea?" "I miss you." Those few words warmed me intensely.

It's been six months without him. Almost a year. Not quite. I think I'm coping well, although, our phone conversations have been a major crutch. At first, they came once every week—after his last visit, much more frequent. We still somehow manage to evade the topic of us. One or two words are exchanged and then the subject is dropped. The easiest form of coping is denying the complication entirely. For now, we are friends. He came to see me again, last week. His appearance as glorious as it was last time. His hair a little shorted, a small amount of stubble adorning his jaw. "I remembered that you liked a little bit of scruff," he joked. And I was happy to hear that each minute detail of his appearance was in regard to my preference. In turn I had chosen to wear a simple black dress. For the first few minutes I had felt silly, until he managed to clear his throat. "You look beautiful in that," he whispered. Chills traveled down my spine, settling into a warmth as he drew out a chair for me. We ate and talked—mostly about his studies, a little about mine… He told me about a friend called Jasper. He was to be his new room mate once he was to receive his bachelors. "You'd like him," he smiled. He had also mentioned a girl called Kate. Skimming over the details as our second course was placed in front of us. "Just a girl who is somewhat smitten with, Jasper." I nodded; a part of me had expected him to mention her like for him. His stare seemed to flicker hesitantly toward me as he mentioned it. I didn't broach the subject any further. I trusted him either way. I didn't mention Jacob's advances. Because Jake would never mean anything to me as long as my life included Edward. Emmett ducks his chin beneath the collar of his jacket. "It's cold out." We walk along the outskirts of my college grounds, his sizable presence courting a few curious stares from female students. I chuckle a little at their avid interest. "You have some admirers." "I noticed," he grins. I bump his side as we descend toward the local coffee house. We sit and order the same brew of tea. I give him questionable stare. Shrugging he tells me, "My mom always gave me tea in the morning." We talk some more, as our conversation deepens I find out that Tanya has given birth. It was breeched and she was in heavy distress. He sighs long after telling me. I give him an understanding stare. His fingers dance around the side of his cup. "She named him Jamison." He swallows hard. "After him… We're not together anymore." I reach for his hand. "I'm so sorry Emmett." The rest of the meeting is spent in an uncomfortable dynamic. "I know this is out of place… but you were far too good for her." His eyes meet mine. I stutter a hasty apology, "Sorry… I just…" Emmett smiles sadly at me. "It's okay Bella." I can tell he's still hurting. I feel slightly guilty. Whilst I am still in some type of luck with Edward, he is out of it concerning Tanya. I bite the inside of my cheek. "I wish there was something I could do."

"You are," he smiles. "You're being a friend." "I'll always be your friend," I tell him, my emotion high as I feel more kindred than I had ever previously. He reaches for my hand, grabbing it with gentle vigor. "Same here."

"Hi." "Hi," I reply wistfully. "Hello," he teases. We remain quiet. My lips are bitten, my stomach in knots. I have no idea what this means. "So…" "So…" I breathe out. "I want to see you." He doesn't say anything in return. Instead a long breath is drawn; I can hear it heavily in my ear through the receiver. "I want… you." I lay back on my bed. "I think about…" his voice lowers, "you… all the time…" I run a hand down my stomach. "Bella?" "Yes?" He holds back. There's a tension in his voice. I can affirm the mood of his tone, it wasn't hard to spot, and it had been so long since I had heard it. He is still quiet. "Edward?" His reply comes breathily, "Yes?" "I think about you too… every night," I murmur shyly. "Bella I… I wish I could touch you." I bravely break our timidity. "I miss making love, to you..." "I miss that too." And he seems so relieved after that disclosure.

"Soon?" my voice quivers in anticipation. "Soon," he tethers. Warmth resonates in my belly. "Bella?" "Yes?" "It will be different… when we do…" "Okay," I reply. We change the subject. Because I fully understand what the difference will be, a part of me is nervous, scared of how this new Edward will react to me. Another part is relieved he still wants me. Months change. Seasons change. Edward has indeed changed. When the call ends, I look to the mirror. My face is the same, my dress and person all the same. I don't know if I've altered in any way. I don't know if I'm supposed to. I'm not sure if his evolution should spur on my own. But when the day comes for us to be together again, I can only hope it won't matter. A/N: 'Months change, seasons change, people don't' is the original line I altered from the movie 30 Blockstoward the end of this chapter. Get ready for that annoying fake awards ceremony thank you list… *nark* Rosearcadia – for quite possibly the most awesome blinkie known to man, it can be viewed here: http: / s5. tinypic. com/w1wkrm. Jpg Twi-fic Promotions blogspot – for the most in-depth review I've read so far…so flattering… Hunterhunting – I plan to have word sex with you as soon as I go part time wrk. 22blue – for this thread over at twilighted: http : /twilighted. net/forum/viewtopic. php ?f=44&t=9522 Areao – because many reviews keep mentioning ur rec ability. Nerac – for the same reason, I am eternally grateful that other authors (like urself) are helping me out. Algie – for the tweets! anniej13 – for the recs also! AmeryMarie – thank you for the very same reason! Anyone else? Tell me so I can thank them. I believe it's the polite thing to do.

Thank you for reading and reviewing—you don't have to, and so it means the world. ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### Chapter: 15

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. STAMPEDE OF A THOUSAND PULSES 15. Fissures Jasper walks past me. "Pretty boy." I ignore the jibe and run my fingers through my hair. I press a small amount of cologne onto my neck and cast a quick stare into the mirror. "You nervous?" Jasper smiles as he leans by the doorway of his bathroom. He doesn't even wait for a reply, instead he walks back into the living area—a high pitched chuckle escapes him. He is obviously finding this amusing. "Oh, Kate is coming over in about 5 minutes, you might wanna tone it down on the cologne… you know, incase she starts drooling." I give his ghost a dirty stare and wonder whether or not to button all the way up or leave a couple slack. I leave four undone. I look at myself. I do one more up. It makes no difference whatsoever. "Fuck." The door bell rings and in the background I can hear Kate whining about the shitty weather. I try to drown out the rise of her rasp with an internal monologue. I am all over the place. I haven't felt as insecure or anxious about anything in a long while. My phone vibrates. I slip it out of my side pocket, a text alert blinks across the screen. -Can't wait to see you. I smile; it stretches from one side of my face to the other, and then in silly manner teeth appear. I realize I am now grinning. I let the happiness slide from my face slowly as I struggle to stop staring at the screen. "What are you so happy about?" Kate timidly walks towards me, her presence causing a small amount of discomfort. I offer a small crook of my lips and wave my phone in the air. "Bella," I say. "Oh." She shifts from foot to foot. It's been maybe a little while since I realized she has somewhat of a crush on me. I try to accommodate her in the safest way possible—after all she is now an associate, maybe even a friend, one that doesn't deserve to be treated harshly. "Big date tonight?" "Um, yea… no…" I laugh at myself. "I don't… know?"

Kate laughs with me. "Still testing the waters?" I shrug. Although, I 'm pretty sure that 'testing the waters' is too dense of an explanation for what Bella and I now are. "We're friends," I say. Her eyebrows furrow for a moment and then she speaks, "Just friends?" "For now," I correct. "Oh." "Yea… so, I better… go, because she's waiting." "Yea, you better go. Don't wanna keep her waiting." I say a quick see you later to Jasper, and leave.

I don't know what to do with my hands. I put them in my coat pocket; my finger pushes through a loose seam. I fiddle with the stray threads until she speaks. "You smell good." It's an innocent enough remark but her voice triggers the worst in me—so unintentionally breathy and sweet. I feel bad for wanting to touch her. I keep my hands stuffed in my pockets, and make a note to stock up on this cologne. We walk along the pavement; her shoes make small clicks, something continuous to listen to until I decide to say, "I'm nervous." Almost instantly, I regret opening my mouth. Her eyes are cast to her feet. "Why?" "I don't know." I somehow feel small staring down at her. Her presence overawes me; I want to say something else, something to cover up my fumbling. "I'm nervous too," she says… so soft, no roughness in her tone. She smiles sadly. I don't want her to be sad. But I am too scared to reach out, too self aware to brush her cheek the way I want to. I don't want to make any sudden moves, and so I just smile back… it's sadder than hers, much more so. We reach the restaurant; the hostess takes our coats and gives us a number. We wait and as we do I look Bella over. I notice her dress. This isn't her normal attire. I swallow a little, not sure if I should comment. Her lip is sucked in, I can tell she is uncomfortable but instead of reassuring her I remain quiet until we are told our table is ready. As I pull out her chair I clear my throat nosily. Bella looks up, her brown eyes large and concerned. I smile, genuinely, and then before I even realize I blurt out, "You look beautiful in that." I feel my face heat up. I notice her blush as she sits, and all of a sudden things are calm with us again. We talk easily about college and course work. I manage not to stare at her obsessively. Instead I take small glimpses. Her neck and exposed shoulders leave my face berried. Her chest although covered, is not helping my resolve. And with distant memories I conjure up pictures of her topless, hovering above me, breasts soft and jutted out as I grip her smooth hips. I stop myself before I go too far. I bring up Jasper, tell her that I am staying at his place on and off—she seems pleased that I've met someone I can call a friend. For some stupid reason I bring up Kate. I notice the rapid bout of attention her eyes give mine as I make up a lie concerning why she is around so often. I cast Kate's presence down to an imaginary infatuation with Jasper. Something tells me that Bella doesn't fall for it, but her demure nature doesn't test me—instead she plays with her food and nods as she mouths a healthy bite of rice. I feel stupid for lying. Her mouth is as beautiful as ever. My eyes drift to her nose, to space between her brows, to the ample length of her lashes, and I stare into the darkness that favors a black over brown. Open, honest eyes… sweet and imploring…

How I ever managed to filch such a doe gaze… no girl has eyes like hers. Our time together ends too soon, in one way I am relieved, in another disappointed. I walk with her to her old, decrypted truck. It holds so many memories for me. All aren't too kind on my conscience—but still they alight parts my anatomy that are too weak to fight off recollections. I clear my throat. "Thank you for this evening." She climbs into the driver seat. "You sure you're okay to walk to the station?" "Yea," I reply. My eyes are stuck to the smooth curve of her calve muscle. Those shoes she wears are a little too complimentary to her legs. I hope she doesn't wear them around anyone else. I am still looking at legs as her voice snaps me out of it. "Edward?" I see a slight smile on her face. It drops suddenly as I furrow my brows in pure frustration. "Good night?" I nod, once, slow. "Good night." She leans forward, her soft smell accosting my needy passages. I inhale, and I think she notices—but for the moment I dare not to care. I reach behind her head with an errant hand and gently grasp the back of her waved hair. I try my best to keep my touch gentle. Whilst this seems border line animal to me, Bella hardly flinches. For her this is easy, for her it means nothing. She hugs me awkwardly from her seat in the truck and whispers, "Call me." "You know I will," I throatily reply. Don't go. "Have a safe trip," she murmurs sweetly. Don't go. "You too." I close her door shut. She drives off. I stand there until her truck turns a corner. I am left feeling more confused and foiled than I should be.

"You dog!" Kate yelps. Jasper has a half guilty half satisfied smile on his face. His last visit to Alice ended up in a tangle of naked limbs. "Has she left him?" His face sobers. He should know better. Sleeping with his ex whilst she is still with her current is an incredibly dumb move on his part—on both parts—but strangely enough I can still sympathize. It's a wonder I haven't tried my luck with Bella… but I want to be smart, I'm trying to be. For now jerking off will have to do, because the thought of putting my cock into any other girl is foul. I change the subject in his favor.

"I'm taking my finals soon. I hope you're preparing yourself for my arrival." Kate sniggers. I throw an empty wrapper at her. "Your just jealous seeing you still live your mother." She rolls her eyes and snorts, flinging her feet casually into my lap. "Shut up Edward." It's as if she is still getting used to saying my name—she says unnecessarily at times. In the corner of my eye I see Jasper hiding that smile he always has when things are awkwardly amusing. He says so much without even trying. At this instant I can hear a screaming whisper, I told you so, rings tritely in my imaginary ear. Kate wriggles her toes, they are small and furry encased in her cotton socks. It feels weird to have her feet where they are. I struggle to remain nonchalant. "Oh I'm prepared," Jasper says. "Are you?" His innuendo is in bad taste. I am just about ready to knock that arched brow off his face. Kate chews her bottom lip. I think she gets it. She isn't dumb. She lifts her feet from my lap and groans. "I am so bored, we should go out somewhere." Jasper snorts. "You're not even legal. Where do you figure? Mc Donald's?" Her eyes brighten up and then suddenly darken. "Like you are so super smart!" she retorts. "Douche." I chuckle and get up with a stretch. "I'm gonna hit the sack for a bit." "You might as well just move in now," Jasper tells me. "You're always here." "Is that an immediate offer?" He shrugs. "Whatever. You know I'm not fussed."

My heart is hammering out of my chest. Another restless sleep. Another dream ending in a painful erection. We didn't even touch, yet here I am left with nothing but a tent in my boxers. I'm not in the mood to jerk off. I am relatively pissed and tired due to my lack of sleep. I roll onto my stomach, face placed sideways as I tuck my cock beneath me carefully. It hurts like fuck, but after a few minutes of blank stares cast onto the adjacent wall it slowly becomes bearable. I eventually feel myself soften. My thoughts are centered on her. Always. Sometimes thoughts are tiring. It's a never ending merry-go-round of different scenarios. Days can go by and the same scene will play over and over in my mind. It gives me time to realize how unimaginative I am. I conjure up the same images, same words, same places and same backdrops. It all ends with one person. It starts with her too.

My hands shake as I pick up my phone. It's like this sometimes, I shake uncontrollably. It worries me for a few seconds, because I have no real idea why this happens. I cast out the thought that drugs have damaged my nervous system. More than likely it is down to the fact that I am about to call her. "Hi," she answers.

Her voice is so small. There are moments when I feel dirty and old, like this girl is way too chaste for me to speak to much less touch. My inner man hollers at me, bringing back memories of all our intimate periods. It feels so far away, so distant that it is almost not us—not me—and most definitely not her. We are awkwardly quiet until she tells me something that causes my heart to stammer. I feel almost as wholesome as I hold her to be, because these feelings are a little new, a little unfamiliar. Some part of me has been reworked. This version of myself is a messy jumble of words and apprehensions. I can't understand it. I wonder if this is the real me. I pull myself together momentarily. I speak with little trepidation, forcing a small amount of assertion from my gut. "I want… you." Was I meant to say that? Is this too aggressive? A tiny part of me rejoices nonetheless. But I quickly become somber, because saying this is almost painful. "I think about… you… all the time." I want to touch her. Sexual or not. I just wanted to touch her. The ache in my chest is more than figurative. It was as if dry rot was masticating me whole. I swallow thickly, her small reply is so Bella like and quiet. Her sexuality is a pirouette of shy and sweet, losing itself when on the brink. There was nothing more satisfying than witnessing the blotchy heat that adorned her skin. Every time I pleasured her I felt more and more of a man, more adept, more skillful, more content at the honeyed way she would whimper helplessly at my touch. Being inside her was something I wasn't willing to give up… it wasn't hard to remember my dependency on all of those feelings she gave me. "I miss making love, to you." Warm honey. That is the only way I can describe those words as they ring in my ear. My chest puffs up. Nothing could be as sweet—only a confession of love—but we have both silently agreed to keep those words at bay. I can't help but think of the difference—old Edward, new Edward… what if I am now unsatisfying as a lover? I can't emote vocally how I feel, instead I offer a dead and empty explanation of, "It will be different… when we do." Will we? Will we ever get to that point? Is it up to me to initiate that moment? I am not too sure if I know when that moment will be. I am counting my blessings. I am trying to enforce restraint on my own climbing libido. I thank God internally once the subject is changed.

Alice is here. She is small. Smaller than Bella. She favors a character from a Tolkien novel, this tiny girl that has locked up Jasper's heart. His whole demeanor changes when she is around. He is careful and tense. I introduce myself as she shakes my hand. "Edward." "Alice." She withdraws and shyly sits. The television blares, an obnoxious music video is accosting our eyes, a throttle of gyrating 20 something's in a club setting as one deftly moving chanteuse sings seductively into the camera. I switch channels. Alice is so quiet. Her head is bowed and she is forever fiddling with the strings of her tapestry purse. Jasper isn't saying anything. I get up and make my way into the kitchen, soon after he is in there with me. "Should I leave?" He shrugs. "She's always like this," he murmurs.

I nod once. I understand. "It's my fault," he mutters. "Before me she was… different." I nod again. I more than understand. "I can leave if you want me to." He huffs. "No. I'll take her somewhere." "This is your place," I insist. "It's your place too." This side of Jasper is real. It's open, and closed. It's confused and recovering. He is thoughtful when he wants to be. A complete ass when it suits him. He runs his hands down his face and inhales. I feel bad for him. They are both in a limbo over how to continue, and how to end. In a way I am glad I haven't touched Bella. I am glad the complication of sex has evaded me for over six months. My fantasies are serving me well. I decided to leave them to it. No doubt they would be discussing something a little more than serious once I leave.

Walking in the dark, I felt invisible. College was coming to a close, I would be faced with the prospect of a masters or a year spent somewhere, doing something. I couldn't remember what it felt like to just be the careless adolescent that got high and did as he pleased. Now, as a 22 year old, I felt haggard. The few times I had seen Bella I had pulled back to notice how young she was in the face. This girl was just that… a girl, and whilst I towered over her 5 foot something frame, there was more than just a distinct physical difference. I had been there and done it—knowing what I was doing and not caring whilst I pulled her deeper into whatever it was I had created for us both. Although I had taken her many a time, it was always me in lead position. Not once can I remember her being aggressive—only attentive—only giving. Bella had a tendency to shy away at the last hurdle, a small part of her would always hanker for me to take control and so I did. I wouldn't be too sure what to call it. Maybe it was manipulation on both parts. Maybe she was in fact in control of every move I made, because each was an easy assumption. Either way, it wouldn't have mattered. Somewhere down the line I would have taken what wasn't owed anyway. I was a selfish fuck. This if not anything else was clear. Nonetheless, I missed her through all my junked up thoughts. I missed her when I was in the company of others. I missed her when I was alone. The strangest form of loneliness came as a shock—when she was right by my side. When I visited and walked and talked and sat by her. Loneliness took me whole, because now, although together we were the furthest apart. I fished out my cell phone. Bella's number was the last on my call list; I pressed the green button, swallowing as I awaited her answer. "Edward?" "Bella." "How are you?"

"The same as always, you?" "Okay." I hate the way our calls begin. Small talk is something reserved for the unfamiliar. I want us to be familiar again. I want her to tell me how she's really feeling; I want to tell her how badly I am missing her, without the need for the fucking small talk. The roughest part of me grates to the surface. I feel him fighting to come out, to grab this girl by the hips and slam her to my chest, to claim her again, to love her again. I growl involuntarily, "Fuck." Silence and then a scared and quiet, "Edward?" I want to apologize, but I am fed up of wanting. I am beyond being careful. At this point all my eggshell steps are strained and tainted. It's a matter of the heart wanting what it wants, no matter how much logic rears its fucking head… "Fuck." "Are you… Edward?" She seems confused now. I wonder if she's as confused as me. I know she's been waiting. I wonder if all the waiting is just pointless. If I could just run back to Jasper's and pack an overnight bag… "Edward?" "I'm here." "Are you okay?" I think before answering, "The truth?" "Always…" "No." "Do you need to talk?" "No talking." I hear an intake of breath. "Then why… why did you call?" "I don't know." We do this a lot. We keep a lengthy silence. Better that than inane small talk. I fucking hate small talk. "Are you alone?" Another hitched breath. "No." "Who's with you?" "Just a friend… Edward… what's… are you… I'm worried…" "Get your friend to leave, now."

I sit on a park bench, placed discreetly on the side of a private park. This part of me had been suppressed, compressed, but not forgotten. I couldn't do this with anyone else. And the costly thought of hearing another girl's voice other than Bella's was painful. I had to get this out… Just once, just once. "I'm in my room alone now… are you okay?" "Stop asking me that." I flinch at my own tone. I wasn't meaning to be so cutting. I wasn't meaning to take advantage, but I was. Oh God, abominable me. I was this. I would always be this. "…sorry?" She apologizes, and it flips my gut south. "No apologies Bella," I whisper. "…I miss you fucking so much." "I miss you too Edward…" My voice cracks. I force it up out my throat. I am suddenly thirsty. "Can you do something for me?" She hesitates before answering, "Okay," she replies soft and shy. "Tell me what you look like." A confused reply comes, "I… don't understand." "Just tell me… please," I choke. "…Is your hair up?" "…down." I picture her fully clothed, hair guarding her pretty face as she places her phone at her ear. "Touch it for me?" "…okay." "Is it soft?" I breathe out. Her hair was always soft, it didn't matter if it was frizzed, it was always, always soft. "Is it still long?... Have you cut it since I last saw you?" Each question was spaced out, each hard to ask, each needing an answer. "Same length… you don't like short hair…" she tells me. I smile sadly. "I wish I could touch it." "…Edward?" "Yes?" "I'm still the same Bella." I ask a silly question and she confirms my real query. I need to know she still wants me, as I am, not as I was—at least I hope. And so bravely, I ask, "Do you want me?" "Yes." Her answer is simple. "Still?" "Yes." Simpler.

"Always?" "Forever." Clear. "Bella?" "Yes?" "I called you… with less than admirable intentions." "Really?" "Yes." She breathes into the receiver, I hear a ruffle of movement and then her voice relaxes, "Tell me." I waver. "I don't know if I can." "You can." My stomach twists. "You're all alone?" "Mmm," she mumbles. "Away from all ears." I shudder, clenching a fist, feeling ridiculous. "I want to be there with you." "Hmm." This hum is unsure and small. I want to reassure her, but how can I without sounding as rough as I know I can be? Can I be? Can I be that person with her again? Better yet, will she accept that person back? After months of separation can I have the audacity to come back only intermediate and partial? She deserves a whole person. "I can't be frank… I can't… I don't…" I stutter trying to explain. Bella is quiet as I falter. I know she is probably frowning, thinking, waiting… her patience is beyond me. I am a fumbling again. "Sex?" her voice is high in its questioning. I sigh long and deep. "Yes." "Well that is almost impossible over the phone…" I hear a small smile in her voice. I smile along with her. Light heartedness is rare nowadays, and so I welcome it. "At least I know…" she dithers, "I… Edward are you…." she fractures. "Are you… intimate…. with someone… now?" "No!" I all but yell, "Never… no… No." She sighs. She sounds relieved. "Okay." "Bella… this is just… a break… not a break up."

"It is?" her voice is piqued. "But it's been so long." "For a reason." "Edward, are you sure? Hasn't there been a day where your attention has been shifted? A day where another girl has—" "—no." I grow hot, angry. I think about what she is insinuating. The thought that this may be something that has happened to her is infuriating. "Why are you saying this?" "I just thought—" "—you thought wrong." Silence. I beyond annoyed now. Jealous. Angered. I want to see her. To shake her. To make her understand—to make myself understand. "Tell me there's no one else." And mean it. "Only you Edward," a splinter like reply. I breathe out. This will never be tiring. Hearing her say this, is what I need, what I crave, what makes me feel whole. I'll have her say it a thousand times until I believe it—because there is a barrier of insecurities her words will knock down once she tells me. I am still as vulnerable, only half way healed. But I am additionally as barbaric. I am capable of taking still… I know it… and that scares me. It should scare her too… "Are you afraid?" "Only of losing you." "Bella?" "Yes?" "That will never happen." ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### Chapter: 16

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. STAMPEDE OF A THOUSAND PULSES 16. Back-pedal This feels good. I twirl my thumb over the head and stroke—this is what she would do, she'd touch me like this. I close my eyes, images of her—on her knees, straddling, beneath, on top, in front. So many far away memories as I stroke and pump and fuck, it's the best I've ever managed. This obviously is down to the conversation I had only five minutes ago. She told me she still wants me. I can now freely expect this to happen, at some point, I hope.

I look down at myself, it's the first time in a while that I've looked, really looked. It's strange. I'm thick, and long, and terrifying. For a moment I can hardly fathom the thought of being inside her, stretching and sliding into her with no cares other than cumming. I keep stroking. Each movement is becoming more frantic. I feel my body heat up. That release is coming, I'm cumming. It builds up, that feeling, that knowing that soon it will all be over. I don't know how I'll be after I cum—if I'll be down, or up, or just okay. I wonder how she felt after I made her cum—was she down, up or just okay? I stroke harder, I stroke faster. I groan and pant and think of her… always her, her naked, her wet, her slick and warm and ready and clenching. The imagery serves me well enough. I cum violently, it splatter's up and over my stomach. I stay still after. I wait and try to figure out how I'm feeling. I close my eyes and dream again. It's the aftermath of our love making and she's close. I spoon and hold her. I open my eyes and feel nothing. "I love you baby," I say, unthinkingly. I'm saying this to her. After this, I feel okay… just okay.

"Edward?" "What are you doing up? … Give me a minute." "I thought you finished your work?" I turn. "But you didn't." She leans over my shoulder. "You're doing my homework?" "Yes." I turn my attention back to the papers ahead of me. "You weirdo." Bella swipes her books from in front of me. "You don't have to do that." I snatch the work from her. "But I want to." "So?" She snatches it back. She eyes all that I have completed. "Why are you doing this? You bored or something?" I pry the work gently from her grasp. "You were taking too long to finish it." "Math and Algebra aren't really my forte." "I can see that," I say. I turn back to my desk and I continue working. It's just this one problem left, after this it will all be done. I can feel her hovering over me. I hear her mutter under her breath—she's a little jealous with my algebraic ability. I smile furtively, she can't see, and because of my hubris I won't allow her to. I keep working—dividing to work out the next consecutive number—number after number—numbers are so empty… makes me realize I'm not that smart at all. "I feel guilty having you do all of that." "Go sit down over there," I say, thumbing back toward the bed. "Is that an order?"

I keep working. "Bossy..." It would seem that she's in a playful mood. "Go sit down Bella." She stands there, determined. I swivel my chair around. "I said go sit." "Not a dog Edward." "Did I say you were?" "You're treating me like one." I face my desk again and shake my head. "Well just shut up until I complete this." "Mean," she mumbles. … A - 2 ? r² "I'm bored." ... = 2 ? r h "Edward?" … A – 2 ? r² / 2 ? r = h "Edward?" "You know, when someone is trying to do something nice for you its best not to interrupt them." I face her direction. She's now sitting on the bed. Good girl, although, her arms are crossed, and her eyebrows are furrowed… I chuckle a bit. "You're like a little kid." "I came here to spend time with you." I ignore her gripe. "I finished it for you." "Thanks," she replies flatly. "You could be a little more grateful." Bella arches an eyebrow at me, it drops suddenly and again she adds a dead flat, "thanks." I roll my eyes. "Come here." She doesn't move. "I said come here." "I heard you."

"Then come here." "Ugh." She huffs and turns from me. I am a little lost. I don't understand why she's being so difficult. I walk over there. I sit next to her and she shifts. "You're spoilt," I say. She doesn't respond. Her arms are still crossed, her brows are re-furrowed. I don't like it when she's like this. I don't like it when she's angry with me. I try to brighten the situation. "At least your homework's done." But it doesn't work. She mumbles something incoherently and sighs long and hard. "What's the matter?" I finally ask. "You've been M.I.A all week." "I told you I didn't feel like going to school…" "… Neither did I but I still went." "You're mad because of that?" I ask incredulously. She turns to face me finally. "I was alone." I draw a breath. I think about it for a little while. I tug at the end of the shirt she wears. "You're not alone now." Her arms are still crossed. "Don't be mad at me." "I'm not mad." "Then why are you like this?" She shrugs. "It's like…" she sighs, "Like you don't miss me." She fiddles with her hands. "Like doing homework is more exciting than spending time with me…" I reach out to stroke her hair back. "I just didn't want you worrying yourself over stupid numbers… I wanted to… help?" "I'm not stupid," she says, her voice is shy and quiet. "I know that." I draw her toward me, curving an arm around her waist. "I did miss you." Bella remains quiet, head down, staring at her palms. I poke her side. She responds with a slight smile. I poke her again.

"Stop," she warns shyly. I defy her. I poke again, harder this time. Her smile widens, she looks up at me. "Stop it." "Or what?" I ask, grinning. "Or I walk out your bedroom and leave you with your beloved Algebra." "Well," I begin, "we can't have that." I stand before her. Bella looks up sheepishly, a small smile still on her face. I push her back. I crawl on top of her. "Fuck Algebra," I say. "Language…" she whispers. "Fuck," I tease. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." I grin and kiss her full mouth. I pull back to see her looking pensively at me. "I'm sorry for ignoring you." "Okay." "It isn't," I reply. I look into her eyes and something warm fills me up. I can't really describe it. All I know is that she's the only person that gives me this feeling. "We don't have to do anything," I say. "I can just hold you if you want." She smiles softly. "Sweet," she breathes. "Yea." I kiss her mouth again. "You are." We kiss for a while, I roll to my side and we kiss some more. "Bella?" "Yes?" she replies breathless. "It's my birthday tomorrow." Her eyes widen. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? I don't even have any money to get you a decent gift… I—" "—I don't want anything." "That's lousy. I'm your girlfriend I should be planning something spectacular." I chuckle. "Spectacular?" I kiss her again. "All I want is you." "Me?" "Yea." "No cake?" "I don't like cake." "Everyone likes cake." "I'm not everyone." I kiss her again.

"No cards or candy?" "Cards and candy? That's for girls…" She rolls her eyes and fiddles with my shirt. "So nothing? You're gonna celebrate your eighteenth year with nothing?" I palm her behind and grin mischievously. "I can think of… something." She rolls her eyes again. "What?... a blow job?" I gape at her and then guffaw loudly. She blushes and laughs with me. We keep laughing until I squeeze at the roundness in her jeans. "You don't have to," I say through a smile. "Although…" She whacks me. "Pervert." "You were the one who suggested it." "But you were thinking it." I shrug. "You're my girl, I can think those things if I want to." She grunts. "Ugh, perv." I squeeze her ass harder. "You like it too." She arches a brow. "I mean you like it when I… use my mouth… there." Her neck goes bright red, it travels to her cheeks. I chuckle and rub her behind. I lean inward and kiss her nose. "I like using my mouth on you too," I say, my voice husky. She whacks my chest gentler this time. "Edward…" "What? What we're doing is…natural." Bella chews at her bottom lip and continues to go red. "We've been together for almost six months now, what we do to each other is nothing to be ashamed of." "I'm not ashamed." "Then why are you finding it so hard to look at me right now?" She shrugs. "I don't know." Her voice turns into an almost whisper. "I'm technically still a… you know." I recall the last time we tried to have sex. It wasn't successful. I had to pull out. She was still a little too tight; it was still a little too painful. It ended with her all the more embarrassed. I was a little disappointed, but not pissed. "I'll wait," I say, almost instantly, not even thinking.

She looks at me then. She smiles. I smile back and kiss her long and slow. "I could kiss you forever," I tell her. She giggles sweetly against my lips. "I love your mouth," I say. I think about her licking her lips. I think about her placing kisses all over my body. I think about what her tongue is doing to my tongue right now. It feels good sliding against mine. I groan and pull her body flush against mine. "I fucking love your mouth," I groan. She moans in response. I start to grind against her. She grinds back. We grind together. We do this a lot. We rub each other a lot. She gets me hard. I get her wet. I really want to see her naked now. But I know that won't happen. Not yet. She's still too shy after what happened a while back. Me being too big, her being too small. Her moans are muffled and low. She's a nice mixture of sexy and sweet… she's never too much. She's on the brink and she's more than capable of leaving me wanting more. God, I want more. I want to get off so badly. I want her to get off too. "Do you want it baby?" She replies with a flustered 'huh?' Her ears are red, her whole face is red, it's amusing but I can't laugh, I'm too hard to laugh. I think about touching her. I think about licking her. I think about her touching me… sucking me. I grow even harder. "Can I touch you?" She nods and without waiting undoes her jeans, she shoves them down hurriedly and then reaches for my sweat pants. "I want to touch you too," she says. "Okay baby." I shove my pants down and we are now both in our underwear. We fumble about; it's all rushed and messy. We roll and I am thankful that my bed is a double. I somehow land on top of her. I kiss her hard and drift down her soft body. I kiss her breasts over her shirt, her padded bra is annoying the fuck out of me but I'm so frantic that I can't see straight enough to attempt to take it off. I go back up to kiss her lips. "Edward?" "Yes?" "Can you…?" "You know I will baby." I know what she's asking. She likes it when I do that. I don't mind doing that. I like the power I have over her. I like hearing her moans. I like tasting her too. I'll gladly do it. I'll do it even if she doesn't do it back. But I know she will.

I make my way down. I do as she wants. She reciprocates. We lay. I'm satisfied. But something tells me that she isn't. I ignore it though. I'm content. I drift. I'll ask her at some point, but right now, all I want to do is sleep.

Bella is sitting on my lap. We're alone at our table. I've made sure that her back is to her former friends. She doesn't need to see the way they are staring. I'm kissing her neck, my eyes burning holes into each of theirs. I'm daring them all to get up and say something. I drag my lips up and down her skin and she sighs dreamily, tells me that feels nice. "How nice?" I ask. She giggles and caresses the back of my head. I smirk; Mike's eyes are drifting from his food to Bella. The more we are together in public the less subdued she feels. Still, there is some reservation but slowly I'm wining. My girlfriend is all about me—all about us, no one else matters. "Lips," I whisper. I take them without waiting. I suck on her mouth and tongue until she is quivering. I smile at my small victory and I tilt my head to witness both Lauren and Jessica staring on disbelievingly. Bella whimpers softly, only loud enough for us to hear. "You're so sexy," I tell her. I like boosting her ego, because it's so fragile and the feelings that I have are growing and I don't want her to question them. We part for a second. "You hungry?" I turn back to our food and grab a fruit cup. "Want me to feed you?" "I can feed myself," she replies reaching for it. I snatch it back and peel off the covering. "Let me feed you." I want to; I also want to make a scene. Bella doesn't know that despite our closed seating there are a plethora of nosey students gaping at our antics. I know that if she did she would most probably die of embarrassment. I make sure she keeps her position—for my benefit. I feed her; she is shy as she bites. I watch her redden, I tell her to keep her eyes on me. It's us—only us. "Edward," her voice is a soft whine, "I can feed myself, really…" I roll my eyes. "It's my birthday, you gonna tell me no on my birthday?" She sighs and speaks, "Feeding me like a little kid shouldn't be considered as a gift." "I beg to differ baby." I take a grape and place it between my lips. I grin around the sphere. I feel like a moron for a moment, but it's the way she looks at me—like I'm the sexiest being she's ever seen. I let this ego trip fuel my antics. Bella giggles, I love it when she giggles, it's like fucking angel bells. She reaches up and takes the fruit from my mouth with her thumb and forefinger. I grab her wrist. "Now you know that's not what I wanted." She squirms with a smile. "Put it back in my mouth and do as I want this time." She huffs. She does what she's supposed to do. We eat and kiss simultaneously. Everyone is looking. I'm getting a major high. I smirk and caress her neck. "You're such a good girl," I say. "Lips," I whisper, commanding more contact. Soon the lunch bell rings. I help her off my lap. Bella turns and freezes. I tug at her hand. "What's wrong baby?" Her eyes are darting around the cafeteria. She's swallowing and blinking.

"What's wrong?" I repeat. She shakes her head and walks away, eyes to her feet as she darts past all prying eyes and straight to her locker. "Bella." She ignores me. "Bella." Nothing. "Bella come on." She slams her locker door shut. "You knew they were staring. You know what they think of me, you know how much that bothers me! God, that was so embarrassing." "Stop being a prude." She shoves me in the stomach. "You're a jerk." "You're gonna push me and call me a jerk on my birthday?" "Oh… fuck you." She walks off. I'm waiting for her. I'm sitting on the hood of my car waiting for her to show up. I'm her ride home, it supposed to be a short stop so that she shower and change—then we'd go out, a movie maybe, I wasn't too sure. I see her. She's all alone clutching her books to her chest. It's as if a sea parts when she walks past, they are all looking at her with heavy expressions, like she's foreign, like if they touch her they'll sizzle. Bella looks so defeated. I hate it. She's better than them all, doesn't she know? They're just jealous; they're just envious of her—of us. I push myself forward and jog to her. She looks almost relieved as I put a protective arm around her. "I'm sorry for earlier," I say. Bella leans into me, her face buries into my chest. "Home… please."

Memories hurt. Remembering how I was. Remembering how I could be. I'm jerking off again. In the shower this time. It's an empty action. I fist myself like I always to, stroke like I always do. I cum and it whirls down the drain. I finish my shower and I feel… depressed. After I am dry and clothed, I rest back on my bed. I think about things that need to be completed. I need to figure out if I am going to take on that residency placement. I've already had that pain staking conversation with the board—my past habits haven't gone by unnoticed, I had to be as honest as I could be in order to start freshly. I didn't want to lie or hide behind anyone this time. In turn I was to be monitored. Thankfully Dr. Cullen had submitted a recommendation in my favor—he was an old friend of Dr. Stewart, for once I am relieved that it is a small world that we live in.

I had traveled to the clinic to thank him in person. Instead I found Emmett. He was a little hesitant in his greetings.

His eyes would dart from one place to the next when I shook his hand. I frowned and asked if he was okay. "I'm good," he told me flatly. "Tanya given birth yet?" He grimaces. "We broke up." "Oh sorry man, I didn't mean to pry…" "It's cool. It's fine." We nod for a while; I try to think of something else to say, but he beats me to it. "So how are you and Bella?" "We're getting there." "I saw her last week. She looks good." My head shoots up. "You saw her?" "Yea. I see her from time to time. You know, to talk." I furrow my brows. "You talk to her?" He nods again. "Yea, we're friends." "Friends?" Emmett looks at me, something smug radiates off of him. I don't like it. I don't like it at all. "Yea, good friends." "Since when?" "Since she needed someone to talk to." He leans back on the front desk. "I was worried about her. She's a great girl you know—" I cut him short, "—I know." I clench my jaw and see him staring at me. "Is it a problem for you?" "What do you mean… problem?" "Knowing that she's talking to me?" "She can do what she wants." He nods once. "Yea, she can." My nostrils flare. There's something so haughty about him now, so self-righteous and primed. "Well Dr. Cullen isn't here, so I'm gonna get going." "You do that." I look straight at him. I feel my face grow stony and I speak exactly what I'm thinking, "She loves me you know." He looks straight back at me. He understands. He more than understands. "I know."

The tension is thick. I know now that it's me against him. My former counselor is now my contender. I feel something bubble up inside me. I want to take a swing at him. I want to smack that look off his face. What the fuck does he think he's playing at? How the fuck did this change in him suddenly happen? "Hey Emmy!" We are timely interrupted. A smiling red head bumps his shoulder and takes a seat behind the front desk. "I brought you a snack from the coffee shop! It's super yummy!" I walk away. I run a hand down my face as I get into my car. I am fuming. ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### Chapter: 17

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. STAMPEDE OF A THOUSAND PULSES 17. Hold your fire "The largest painting ever was undoubtedly Panorama of the Mississippi, It depicted the great river over its 1,200 miles course on a strip some 5,000 feet long…" I wasn't concentrating. I didn't see much point, all of this could be found in a text book. I was half way through that essay anyway. I worked so fast now that I was without a boyfriend—without Edward, without him I had nothing else to do but work. "Sheesh, it's like listening to a drill." I smiled tiredly and gave my seating partner an understanding stare. I began doodling in my work pad; circles, dots, love hearts, Edward's name, my name, more hearts, scribbles, clouds, more scribbles. Isabella Marie Swan, Bella M Swan, Bella Swan. Isabella Masen, Bella Masen. B.S vs. B.M. B.S? I crossed it out. Edward Anthony Masen, E.A.M. I drew a heart around it. B x E. E x B.

"Miss Swan?" I sat up startled. "The Baroque period, care to indulge us on you're favorite jingoist?" The subject has changed abruptly, I must have completely zoned out… I go for an obvious choice, because right now all I can think of has absolutely nothing to do with today's period. "Carlo Maderno." "Ah, Carlo Maderno… father of the movement in question. Now…" I look down. I like the way his name looks next to mine on paper. For the rest of the class I blank out.

It's one big circle. "I feel fat." "You look fine." The same faces. "You sure?" "Positive." Around and around. "Bella?" "Yea?" "Jake says I look fine." It's getting boring. "You look nice." "Nice?" Really boring. "Lola you look perfect." "Aw Jake you're such a good liar." Edward was never boring. "I don't lie, I embellish." "I need to change." Ever.

"We're never gonna leave at this rate." Jacob slumps back onto the floor. We are in Lola's room, readying ourselves for a night out at the student bar. Lola plans to drink and flirt, as usual. Jacob plans to drink, laugh and maybe flirt, as usual. I plan to… I don't know. I think I'll just sit and watch. Jacob nudges me. "What's your plan for tonight?" "No plan." "Wanna go dancing again?" He grins after saying this. I shrug. "Who knows?" A little bit of silence and then a long huff. "You are seriously a sour face." This bothers me, because it now feels like I'm a burden. I don't even want to go out. I don't even know why I said I would in the first place. I grow irritated. Jacob is really annoying me. Lola is really annoying me. Everything and everyone is just, annoying. I get up. "I'm not going out tonight." Jacob's eyebrows rise. "What? Why not? Is it 'cause of what I just said? Bella I was joking…" "No you weren't." I don't wait for him to reply. "You're right, I'm a sad sack." I grab my coat and bag and I don't even say bye to Lola. I slam the door shut and jog back to my dorm. When I finally reach it, I sigh and peel off all my clothing. I walk around mechanically in my underwear—up and down my room, in circles and zig zags. Nothing is amusing me. My boredom is air tight and suffocating. I fling myself onto my bed. I get up again. I decide that studying some more is my only option. At this rate I will be ahead of the lecturer himself.

Emmett is massaging my shoulders. He has strong hands. Each pass of them causes me an equal amount of release and discomfort. It's a good massage. I groan as he hits a place of tension and then I laugh, because I sound ridiculous. Emmett laughs louder, it's jolly and full. It makes me laugh all the more. Soon the massage has come to a halt and we both just laugh in fits of hysterics. "You sound like some type of farm animal." I keep laughing. "A mix between a sheep and a mouse." I grip my stomach; my giggles are becoming almost painful to control. "That was in no way shape or form attractive." I look up, still chuckling. "You're heavy handed, it was a reflex groan." He re-starts his massage. I'm feeling lighter. He karate chops me, the edges of his hands going over the bridge of my shoulders. I close my eyes and enjoy it. I haven't been pampered like this before. I haven't had someone physically care for me like this other than my mother before she left my father. "Feel good?" he asks softly.

I hum, eyes still closed, not wanting to open. His hands slow, they come over the curve of my arms—he's rubbing them up and down slowly now, brushing shy, just underneath the edge of my t-shirt. His finger tips are calloused but gentle. Emmett speaks just as gently, "Good?" "Yea," I say. He's standing. I'm sitting, at a picnic bench. We're in a small park; one that I didn't know existed until Emmett insisted on driving around until we saw something interesting. It's a little cold, but still warm. It's a comfortable chill. Emmett's hands are warm, his breath even warmer as he bends to ask, "Still good?" I chuckle. "Great." I can tell he's smiling. He stops and takes a seat next to me. "You smell good," he tells me. "I do?" I ask, in a way that is nonchalant. "You always do," he replies. The way he tells me this, changes the atmosphere. I look to him and stare, eyebrows furrowed. Little is said vocally, more is said with silence. I open my mouth to speak, but he saves me the trouble. "I'm a nice guy," he murmurs. I feel uncomfortable. I allow my eyes to drift to the table. Emmett is quiet for a second or two, and then he sighs long and loud. He clears his throat and speaks again. "I'm a little older… but not by that much." I fiddle with my hands like I always do when words fail me. "I know you see me as friend. You're friendship to me is, special." I speak, "Emmett…" Only one word, because I can't think of any others. "You love Edward. I get it." I speak some more, "Sorry…" Still just one word. "But I'd…" he struggles; he seems hot, bothered, angered. But not in a way that is threatening. He's frustrated. "I'd love you so much better." I tighten my fists. "If you gave me a shot." "No," I say. His breath catches short. "No?" "You deserve someone who would love you back, just as hard."

"And you don't?" I offer stinging words, "I want Edward." He nods, a painful look on his face. I want to apologize, but I don't want to insult him. Instead I move as close as I can toward him. I put my arms about his robust body, and hold him as a friend would. It takes a while, but he reciprocates. "No one wants me," he says. "Everyone needs me, but no one wants me." "That's not true," I tell him softly. "That's not true at all." He laughs. "I feel… stupid." "I want you as a friend…" "That's not the same." "Tanya wanted someone else too." "Tanya was stupid." "Like me," he self-goads. I hold him tighter. "You're an amazing man, with an amazing heart." "I want to be someone you see and want. I don't want to be… what I am." Another small silence drifts until he breaks away from me. His eyes are piercing and tired. "Tell me, what is it about him that you are so in love with?" Emmett is insecure—like me. He is not the most handsome and I am not the most pretty. We are kindred almost… close… he knows me, I know him, and in turn I want to give valid answers. I sit back now. I think long and hard for a good reason, a good answer. I can't think of anything. I can't conjure up a lie. I settle for truth. "I don't know." He smiles, but it's sad, it's defeated, its understanding. I want to say something to justify my unsatisfying answer. I push myself to think harder. It shows on my face. Emmett's hand brushes my cheek. "It's okay Bella." I take his hand in mine. I squeeze it. I feel at ease again. "I know." I know because Emmett is gentle, he's caring, he's selfless. "Love is indefinable." I sigh and smile at his ability to calm regardless of rejection. "Can I…" he begins and hesitates. He leans close until his nose touches the side of my face. But I am not startled or alarmed. He presses his lips into the round of my cheek. He kisses me long and slow there. He breaks away and sighs heavily. We walk back to his car and make sad but easy small talk. I wish I could give him more—but I'd be giving out of a

place of pity and guilt. Emmett deserves so much more. We end our outing bitter-sweetly. I walk back to my room feeling helpless.

"Bella." "Edward." "You're all alone?" "I'm always alone." "Tell me you want me." "I want you." "Mean it." "I mean it." "Really?" I furrow my brows at his impulsive words. "What's wrong?" Edward growls. "Emmett wants you too." I freeze. "He fucking wants you." "Don't shout at me." "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to. Fuck." "Edward it's okay." "No it's not. It's not okay because I'm not there. I'm not around. I'm not…" "You're not what?" "With you." "You're choice," I say, a little bile in my tone. He breathes in. "I'm pulling over, hold the line okay?" I do as he asks and I fall back onto my bed. I twirl hair between my fingers and close my eyes. I hear ever shuffle and ruffle of his movements. I wait for him to settle and finally he speaks, "I was so angry." "With me?" "With myself." I find a little solace in this. I feel guilty for it but rewarded. I want him to realize that this break is killing me, that it is killing him, that together we would be so much better.

"I'm not around and I can't be there to… to…" Stamp claim? Own? Possess? "I wanted to tell him that you belong to me…" I hear him sigh. "But you don't… you don't belong to anyone." I am quiet and he continues talking fluidly. "I wanted to be smug and tell him all the things we used to get up to. I wanted him to know that… it would only ever be me." I think about saying something. I think about telling him that he does own me. I think about shouting and crying and saying all these things that aren't too pretty, that aren't too nice. I am so frustrated with him, so angry and tired. But love overrules all of those worries. Before I shout I want to hug, before I cry I want to kiss. I want him all the same. It's a never-ending story of the same… always the same. "All I do is stay at home, study and jerk off." He chuckles at himself. "I think about you naked. I think about fu—" he hesitates "—making love. I really want to kiss you. I really want to hold you. Fuck Bella I just want you." I should feel warm at this point, I should be smiling and sighing and thinking of him doing all these things but instead, "Then what's stopping you?" I say, even more anger in my tone. Edward breathes slow. "Me. I'm not fixed yet. I'm not good yet." "Will you ever be?" He seems to be thinking, because seconds have passed and he still hasn't answered. When he does it's a croak, it's shy and quiet. "No." I feel my eyes burn, but I hold back the tears. No tears. "Come see me," I say. "I'll give you everything you want." I'm begging now. "Don't Bella." He is begging too. "I'll do whatever you want." He doesn't reply. "I'll kiss you." Nothing. "I'll hold you." Nothing. "I'll touch you… everywhere." A shiver of breath. My voice goes quiet. "I'll make you feel good."

A sharp intake of air. "I'll take you everywhere…" He speaks forewarning, "Bella…" "Inside… anywhere you want… please come see me…" He chokes. "God…" I want to win. I want him to break. I want him to just relent and give in. "Come see me now…please? Please Edward?" "I can't… I can't even…" His breath is heavy and his voice is rugged. "Don't you want me anymore?" "Fuck. I want you so badly," he says unevenly. "Then drive over here… I'll be waiting, always."

My hands are everywhere. I'm ripping off his jacket, I'm ripping off his shirt, I'm gripping his belt and pulling the sides apart, I shove down his jeans and grab the bottom of his feet, I fling his shoes and socks across the room. He stands before me wide eyed, heavy breathed and stunned in his boxer shorts. I'm already in my underwear, just a small tank top and panties. He's staring at my body. Up and down, licking his lips, chest heaving. "You're so fucking beautiful," he says. I bite my lip and suddenly grow nervous. We haven't done this in a while. We haven't kissed yet. I was too fixated in getting him as naked as me. Too driven by lust to even consider his lips… Now that I'm focused; it is the only part of him I want—his lips. I want to kiss him. He comes closer, with steady caution. "You've changed." He reaches out and I meet his touch. Hands on either side of me as his eyes keep roaming. "Your breasts…" He licks his lips. I feel myself grow hot at the mention of them. "Your breasts," he repeats, "bigger." His eyes avert to them. "Hips…" He rubs them softly. I chew my lip. "I put a little weight on," I say this with a red face. He bends, his hot mouth on my neck. "So sexy," he whispers. He kisses me there and I whimper. He drags his mouth to the other side. "Fuck. I want you." "I want you too." "You're a woman now." His fingers go over my tight curves. My waist is more definable, my shape more feminine. I'm not as thin; as straight up and down. I thought this wouldn't be to his liking. That he'd prefer a more slight body to handle. But he doesn't. I'm turning him on. He's licking my skin now and I am moaning softly. "You even taste different…" I begin to feel freer. I begin to feel… sexy. "You're so fucking perfect." All his words are making me… I can't describe the way he is making me feel. He keeps kissing neck, sucking and

licking, driving me insane with desire. So pent up that all I want is for him to… "Fuck me." He freezes. I say it again, "Fuck me." I push myself into him. I grind and kiss his neck. "Fuck me." Edward pushes me back. "No." I don't understand. "No?" "Don't talk like that." He's backing further away from me. He's almost up against the door. "It's not you." "It's just been so long…" I try to explain myself. I watch him. His body is tense. He has an erection. He's licking his lips and he's frowning. I want to know what's wrong, because I have no idea. I want to make him feel better. I don't want to be useless. I don't want to be of no use. "Don't ask me to fuck you." "Okay," I say slowly, not understanding. Edward looks up. Edward looks straight at me. Edward's eyes are burning with intensity. "Because I will," he finally confesses. He draws near now. Slowly. I feel drums in my stomach. Heavy drums, something foreboding and feral. Something I'm not sure I can handle. "I want to fuck you." I step back, back until I hit the edge of my bed. "I want to know this new body you have, in every way." I look at the way his muscles move, hard and defined, practiced and sensual. His body is a work of art. His body is no longer adolescent and lank. He is beautiful all over and he shouldn't be in love with someone like me… He is tall and strong, tall and toned, tall and in command of his every move. "You want me," he says, an observation not a question. I answer as if it is nonetheless. "Yes." I fall back so that I am sitting. He stands before me—erection almost in my face. "I want you." My face is hot. "Can I fuck you Bella?" It grows hotter as I nod. "…fuck you hard?" I want to say yes, but I can't talk. "I want to do that so badly," he swallows.

And then, suddenly, his face crumbles. "I'm not fixed yet." He drops to his knees. "I'll always be like this." I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do. So I just act on instinct. I cradle his head in my lap. I feel him pressing hot kisses into my legs. "I want to do this the right way." I keep quiet and slowly slide off the bed so that I am sitting with him. He comes into my embrace and clings to me. "I don't want to have to fuck you. I want to love you right. I want to be soft… and slow… and tender… you deserve that," he tells me. I hug him tighter. "I want to kiss you gently and I want to touch you with finger tips and lips for hours before we make love." I stroke his soft hair and close my eyes. "Give you everything." I feel my throat tighten. "Be everything." I'm crying. "No one else," he croaks. "No," I say. "No one." "Someone who only fucks you… can't be that." I nod and his hold becomes vice tight. "I want to love you whole." I kiss his forehead. We hold each other for what seems like forever, which is only a couple of minutes. We dress. We talk. We hug some more but don't kiss—because Edward swears that if we do, it will lead to something more. He can't handle it. He can't handle kissing me just yet. I keep quiet and don't beg. I do this for him. I keep myself to myself. And then he leaves me. I shut the door and walk silently to my bed. I sit and stare into nothing for hours. I feel whole. I feel hollow. I feel full. I feel empty. I feel everything and nothing. I'm so tired. Exhausted. I pull the covers over my head and fall asleep. A/n: Look dudes, ff . net messed up with the page breaks and stuff, which sucks seeing as i have a lot of flashbacks... sorry for the confusion. I am super douchey and busy and so i can't reply to u all at this moment. But i fig. you'd prefer and update over a reply. thanks once again for reading. ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### #####

##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### Chapter: 18

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. STAMPEDE OF A THOUSAND PULSES 18. Sudden Verve I'm apologizing to Lola for my abrupt disappearance. I am fortunate because she is mild mannered. She rubs my back and smiles understandingly. "It's cool. I know stuff for you isn't too great… with your ex and all." She picks up my left hand. Lola is a tactile girl, always finding something to touch and fondle. She plays with my fingers. "Want me to paint these for ya?" I shrug. "Okay." She picks out a jeweled purple and is precise as she sweeps the brush over my nails; they are short and clipped, by the end of it I look fully manicured. She admires her work and smiles. "Preeeeettty." She makes me snort. And then she begins to giggle. She flings her arms around me and we land on the floor. We laugh a little more and when we part I look down to my hands. "Damn it." I hold them in front of me. The polish is ruined. We both chuckle and shrug and then, we lay on the shag rug that is placed at the foot of her bed. "Before I came here… I kinda had a bad experience with someone too." We rest next to one another and speak. "What happened?" "I was in love. He wasn't." I feel bad, because at least I know the love I have is mutual. "Must have been horrible." She sighs. "It was. I ran." "Here?" I feel her nod. She turns on her side and drapes an arm around my midriff. "Hey Bella." I turn toward her. "Hey Lola." We grin at one another. She holds me to her. "How about we get together?" I almost choke. She giggles loudly. "I've always wanted to kiss another girl." I shove her away and grunt. "That wasn't funny." She grins playfully. "It so was. You had eyes the size of saucers." We lay back down. "Are you over him yet?" "I guess." She turns back toward me. "I'm actually interested in someone else right now."

"Who?" She remains silent for a couple of seconds. "Jake." Her eyes flutter over my face, she's gauging my reaction. "We almost kissed." It makes sense. All those times she had tried to push us together. It always ended up with me going home alone, them spending the remainder of the evening with each other. "You're sneaky," I say. "Bella it was never like that." "Relax." I face her. "I think you should make a go of it." Her eyes sparkle. "Yea?" I arch a brow. "Were you waiting for my approval?" "I didn't wanna step on anyone's toes… I wasn't sure if you were interested." "Jake's great… but not my great." I feel her grab my hand, we lace fingers. "It'll work itself out." I don't say anything back. She allows me this. Lola isn't expectant or demanding. I am grateful for her friendship.

"Chromosomes and catalysts, the root of the infection." I let loose a breath. I hear his raspy chuckle. "Boring stuff." "No, its not boring… its amazing." He sounds disbelieving, "Really?" "Yea, Edward. It is." I picture him smiling, because I am smiling. "I can't wait to see you… flourish." I feel stupid for saying this. It sounds stupid coming out of my mouth. But he alleviates me. "Bella… I feel the same way, about you." "Yea?" His reply is soft and sweet, "A million times yea." A bursting feeling rushing through me. "Edward can I… tell you how I feel?" His breath hits the receiver. "Not before—" He stops.

He starts again. "—before I tell you how much I—" I don't know if I should push or pull, so I stay neutral. I remain silent. I wait for him to say something. But then I say it all, I say it because it's eating away at me. "Iloveyou and… I can't stop myself from telling you. I'm sorry. But I feel like, like I'm treading ice." He's quiet. It's unnerving. So I steady myself. I fill the half empty space before he clears it completely. "I'm recovering too; I'm as vulnerable as you are. I'm as hurt as you are." I stop. I don't start again. I wait for him to do that. Edward's view is self repressive. "You magnify all those bad things in me… because you're nothing like me. And I want to be like more like you." "Boring? Ug—" "—don't you dare Bella." "Edward I'm under no delusions. So don't give me that beautiful bullshit." I can tell he is startled. "Its not bullshit… it's how I see you." He still hasn't told me what I've wanted to hear. I am tired from our merry-go-round. "I'm sleepy," I say. "You want me to hang up?" he sounds so small at this point. "I don't know." "Are you sleepy because of me? Am I making you tired?" I don't know how to respond. "That's it isn't? I'm stressing you out… I always do that… don't I?" I feel like slamming the phone down, I feel that this all we do. We talk and talk, about what used to be, and we stress and stress over the very same things, and all I want to do is just bepassionate—about something else, not about our problems. Problems are given too much time, too much attention; we have less and less time to be okay, to be happy. "Please… just… shut up." He does as I suggest, but he doesn't hang up. He's dithering. He does this now that he has nothing to hide behind. The bravado is gone. Edward is stripped and I can tell that he feels frustrated. In turn I feel culpable, because I am harsh in my frustrations. I have snapped and am telling him to be quiet… I am being short when it comes to his need to talk… The reality is that I am the selfish one. "I'm sorry Edward. I was just… I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too." I don't want him to start apologizing. He's done that enough and all it does is remind me that things are fixed yet, right yet. And so I try to be free, I try to set a tone that is full of care and hope and affection—because I feel that this is what he needs, what I need. I hope he responds well. "I love you Edward." It's said shakily, it's said hopefully. He doesn't respond and my stomach drops. I want to cry but I don't. "I can't tell you how much… I feel. Words aren't enough…" "They're enough for me." "How can that be enough? It's never enough Bella." "For you…" and then I realize. "It's never enough for you…"

Three weeks later. We meet in the night. In the early morning. At three in the morning. Its cold and I have no jacket. I was too caught up in the fact that I was going to see him. Jittery and apprehensive but so excited. I haven't eaten. I've slept for half an hour but I'm still weary. In the distance I spot his walk. It is low now. He is slouching. His height cut a couple of centimeters. "Bella," he rasps. And then I am wrapped up in an embrace. So warm and full and tight and perfect and I want to stay in it forever. He is my forever. I inhale and he smells, clean. No scent. Nothing detectable. I want something to cling to, to remember. "Edward." "I'm sorry I'm meeting you so late." "It's fine." We stand on uneven pavement. We hug and breathe in chilly air. It's perfect. It should be never ending—but it ends and I pull away missing him all the more. "You smell so good," he tells me. "Same old shampoo." "No." He brushes my hair to one side and smiles sadly. "No, it's you… just you." I raise my brows. "Me?" "Yea," he sighs. "You." We look to our feet. We are awkward. "You make my heart beat… triple beat." I make a sound; it's an exhale of air that exudes disbelief. "That was terrible." He laughs at himself and swallows. "But, I mean it."

I look up shyly. His hand comes up to stroke my cheek. "Triple beat." I smile closed mouthed. "I love you Bella." My stomach flutters. "So much." I can't wait any longer. "Kiss me… just once… please?" He bends. My heart triple beats. Quadruple beats. He stops shy a few moments away. I breathe heavily. His eyes are to my lips. My eyes are to his lashes. They are long and curved and make me feel as though mine are not pretty enough. I want to feel them on my skin. "Please." I can hear his breathing. His hand, the one that cups my jaw, is shaking. He's shaking. "I don't want to push… to do anything wrong," he whispers. I bring my arms up; I lock them around his neck. I look at him and he looks at me. His hands come about my waist. He is gentle and careful. "Hold me tighter." And he does. And I feel his body heat and it warms me from the inside out. I sigh dreamily, because it feels unreal. He exhales and it is unsteady. He licks his lips and I lick mine and I really want him to just kiss me because I've waited so long. "Do you love me?" "So much Edward." The air becomes wet. We look up simultaneously and the warning is light. Small droplets descend and we both know it's a matter of minutes until the downpour heavies itself. We grip each other tighter and we stare harder. And Edward breathes out more steadily. "I love you too." I smile. And he smiles back. And it's that moment. That moment I've wanted for so long. "Kiss me," I whisper. And he does. There's no more build up, it's a crashing of lips and I'm so amorous and I can feel that he is too. We are clumsy. Our mouths haven't opened yet, no tongues yet. Just lips. Warm lips. Rain is coming heavier; it pelts onto the both of us. We break away and look up, and the sky is dark and black. "More." He looks unsure. "More," I repeat. He is hesitant. "Now… please," I whisper.

We kiss again. This time I open my mouth. This time he kisses me slower. I whimper as his tongue slides over mine. He groans as I caress his and we get more heated, we get more ardent. "We have to stop." We kiss still, I kiss still, I ignore his words. "We have to stop Bella." I keep my mouth glued to his. It's still going, and so are our feet. Edward is pushing me back; we are walking towards a wall. I am being led blindly until I feel my back up against hard concrete and the rain is more now. It's heavy and almost angry. I am soaked to the bone as is he. He breaks away. "Stop." We look at one another. "You're gonna catch a cold," he says. "You're gonna catch a cold." He smiles at my mirror and brushes my wet hair back. "I love you. Remember that for me." I nod. "I'll never stop," he furthers. I want to kiss again. But I know that won't happen. "Just once?" I ask quietly. "For now." I accept and we sneak back to my dorm… to talk, just talk.

I live off that kiss for next two months. The season of summer, despite the rain passes and we land into the red of fall. I take a lot of walks—along the pathway where we met and I stand against the same wall reminiscing, sometimes with a smile, sometimes impartial. I am a ghost of that day. Edward visits me once more before he tells me he is visiting Florida with Dr. Cullen. He calls me for the remainder of his week away. We are not serious in terms of conversation, we laugh and joke and it's almost as if I am not talking to Edward at all. "Yea IHOP… you'd like it there." "Why? Cause I could stuff my face full of cheese cake?" He seems far away, wistful about something as trivial as cake. "They have this Oreo one… its like eating clouds."

"Clouds?" I chuckle back. "You know what I mean, its real good." "Ah, well I better not dream too hard about dessert. I don't wanna get fat." "You were looking pretty good to me last time…" He says this and it makes me feel pretty. But I am sheepish. I brush it off. "You like fatties?" "Oh yea… something to grab," he ribs. I laugh, the thought of someone like Edward with me much less a big girl is odd. I am not shallow but the ideals of the world are pressuring, and I am unfortunately susceptible. "Do you think I'm fat?" I ask suddenly. He laughs in response, and so do I. The small chuckles die down and I hear his voice gentle in my ear. "I think you're beautiful." I sigh. I don't want to be the tiring girl, full of hubris, the girl that never accepts the compliment. And so I attempt grace, I attempt gratitude. "Thanks." I say this meekly. "You're welcome." I can tell that he is smiling. I don't think we're flirting, but it feels like it. It feels new and I want it to continue. I want him to make me feel like I'm his girlfriend all over again. Being his friend, is fine, its good and I'll be his friend for as long as he needs me to be. But my own selfishness is hoping for more. I make a weak attempt. "You're not so bad yourself." "Hmm, yea… so I've been told." I smile hard, because he hasn't been this playful in a while—since he's been in recovery. I think and think for more ways to continue our banter. "My, my, Mr. Masen, what a big head you have." And oh God I sound moronic. He guffaws and it is loud and hearty and it makes me feel tender. "Isabella…" I exhale. My full name on his lips is lovely. "Isabella Swan." So lovely. He changes his tone abruptly. "I should let you get some sleep." "I don't want to sleep." "You'll be tired in the morning." "Then let me be tired."

"You want to stay up all night and talk?" I nod and say, "To you, yes, all night." "I'm a bad influence," he chides jokingly. I am honest now. "I just want to hear your voice." He is quiet for a while, and then, "Tell me about your dreams." "My dreams? Like when I sleep at night?" I feel stupid for asking, because the first thing that comes to mind is his lips on mine. I am juvenile. He chuckles. "No." I feel silly. "What you plan to do with your future." "Oh." I think hard. "I don't know." He doesn't like this. I can tell by his silence. I feel like I've disappointed him, like I've let him down. "Because you are indecisive? Or is it because… because of me?" Not this again. "No Edward, I'm listless." "You're not lazy Bella… you're far from it." "I am. You just don't know…" He knows so little. "Sometimes I think… if only I didn't… take you away from what you had… Bella you'd be happier." I hate it when he does this, because I would never (not) have him in my life. I would never (not) love him. I'd happily build a life around him, because he is what makes me happy. Whether he believes it or not. "Can we not go there? Please?" He clears his throat. "Okay." "I don't care about that. I care about you." "I care about you too." "I know." "Good." "Good. Now please, let's be… normal." He laughs. "Normal it is." "So…" "So…" "Seen any crocodiles yet?"

"I think you mean alligators." I roll my eyes. "Whatever… same difference." We laugh and continue, as friends would.

A/N: thanks to all of you who are reading, reviewing, talking about, twittering about this story. I appreciate it. I want to direct all of you to stories that I am in awe of at the moment. Go read: Legendary by WhatsMyNomDePlume and Glitch by Quothme, because both authors' are talented. They have a way with words. Read Legendary if you love theory warped tales. Read Glitch if you are a fan of sharp and hilarious dark humor. Neither needs (me) to promote them, but I've grown fond of them as authors and I am somewhat of a groupie. I'd probably read anything (yea anything) either girl wrote. Thanks to ScarletOctopus who made me a playlist for this story / / www . mixpod . com/playlist/52870614 =) Err, so shout out to my fellow Bi-polar girls who are doped up on meds... better you than me. I won't mention ur S/N's, but it was nice knowing I'm not alone. ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### Chapter: 19

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. STAMPEDE OF A THOUSAND PULSES 19. Visitations I cut my hair. It's not long, or thick or in my eyes. It's not how Bella would ever remember it being. I still look like me, but not quite. I now understand why all those divorced singles harbor new images. I understand how it can affect one's consciousness. Image is a shallow thing, but it's a reminder. "You look different." "That's the idea." Kate squints and tilts her head. "But it doesn't take anything away from you," she adds. "You're still Edward." I carry on, I've buzzed off the sides and back, I'm working on the top, snipping strands with a pair of Alice's scissors. She walks past the bathroom and smiles shyly at me, rolling her eyes at Kate's presence as she holds a basket of Jasper's unwashed laundry. Alice understands. Alice gets everything. Alice sees and hears all but keeps it to herself. I like Alice, and I'm happy to know that Alice likes me. "You want me to wash a couple of things for you too?" I say no, because I don't want to take advantage of her. She is sweet and small, and she reminds me of Bella—her demure gestures and expressions—and I can understand why Jasper loves her the way he does. She walks by with a slight twinkle in her eye, she loves to come here and clean. It's as if it clears her head. She adores the aroma of detergent and washing liquid. She is an odd and quiet character. "Jasper treats that girl like a maid."

I snort in response. Sometimes Kate is obtuse. "I have to sweep up." I walk out and find a broom already leaned up on the side of the wall. I look to the small girl dithering about in the hall. Alice smiles and disappears into the kitchen. "Want me to style it for you?" "No thanks, style isn't really my thing." Kate speaks, "Really? You have this whole unkempt look about you… I thought that was conscious." "Since when was laziness, consciousness?" She shrugs. "That whole hobo chic thing, its kinda hot now right?" "How would I know?" "Geez relax, I was only suggesting." She slides off the edge of the bathtub and walks out into the living room. Jasper returns home from is recent work placement, he looks tired but his face soon brightens as he smells the aroma traveling from inside the kitchen. He's well aware that she's here. He ignores both Kate and I and greets her first. "Hi." She looks up and smiles. "Hi." "Cooking?" She nods and speaks, "Jambalaya, casserole, I thought you might be hungry after working all day." Jasper is fighting a full on grin. "Yea. Thanks. You didn't have to—" "—I wanted to." Kate and I are on stools at the side of the tiny island, we are both witnessing their exchange—our perspectives different. I feel a stirring in my chest, it mimics ache. Its not hunger, it's not anything physical but it feels that way. It feels hollow and empty. I am watering at the mouth a little, food may fill me up for a moment but I know I'll go to bed and feel the same as before. "Smells great," he tells her, and it earns him a sheepish smile. Alice stirs and tells us all to fetch plates. "So you and Bella…" Kate skulks. She's decided to spend the night seeing as her mother is across town tending to divorce proceedings. I wonder why she hasn't gone with her. "Is it still… happening?" "We're learning to be friends again," I say, skimming through a work journal. I feel her shift closer, she peers over my shoulder. "What you doing?" "Work." "Oh forensic science?" "That's the one," I brush. I concentrate on organizing my references. I re-read Dr. Cullen's recommendation. I still don't quite understand his kindness, but I don't question it. He's fast become someone I am learning to look up to. I

will be under the supervision of Dr. Stewart soon and I am both dreading and anticipating it. I feel her head lay itself upon my shoulder. I tense. She smells of soap and nicotine. She sighs and watches whatever it is that is on the television screen. I don't know what to do, to be honest I'm petrified. Its common knowledge that she likes me; Jasper even teases me. Alice gives me these slight warning gazes. I've always overlooked it, because Kate is barely out of her teens and typically moody. She reminds me of those girls that would brood about campus, hubris keeping them temperamental and above board. All of her actions are subtle, she rolls her eyes a lot, she pretends she is over every faze and astute concerning the oncoming throw backs. "We're you this smart and focused before?" she asks, eyes still ahead. "I'm an academic," I reply. I know that much. Creativity eludes me, and I admire it a lot more than the capacity I have for numbers and logic. She looks to me. "Was Bella academic too?" I answer, because I don't want to be short. "She is an art history major." "That's… cool." I scoff without thinking. "Cool." We keep quiet. Her head is still on my shoulder. I am still reading, or at least trying to. She is looking on to the television, it's as if this is all nonchalant, all meaningless. I can't get comfortable. I can't be okay. "I'm going to bed now." She eases up. "Cool. I better go too." She stretches and yawns. I leave her to set up on our couch. I have no idea what she wants, or expects. I decide not to worry, because it's likely that her idea of me is fickle. It will drift soon. The only constant I've ever found in someone is a good amount of miles away.

"I've cut it off." "All off?" "It's short back and sides." "Like a military cut?" "Not so drastic, just not so… floppy." Bella laughs. "Floppy. Funny word." "I love your laugh," I blurt. "Yea?" "Yea. Laugh more." "Should I do a fake hardy ha ha for you?" I smile. "You couldn't be fake even if you tried."

"I guess your right, I'm a bad liar." "Truth is always best." She remains silent for a while; I know that at this point, she is thinking of something. "Can I come see you?" The thought of her coming here is unusual. "See me?" "Yea, would that be, okay?" "Yes," I reply before I think. I panic now, because my holdings are simple. There's nothing fancy about our apartment and sometimes it can be messy, most times it's unorganized, a lot of the time it gets boring. "Fuck… shit, I'll have to clear up." She laughs again and I smile abruptly. "Its okay Edward, it's just me." Just her. Just her is the very reason I want everything to be right. "I know… I just, you know, hope it doesn't turn you off when see how much of a slob us guys can be." "I think I know. I lived with my dad for most of my life remember?" "I remember." "Well stop worrying." I like her like this. Bossy. It makes me feel like she's putting me my place. It's a nice feeling, like I belong to someone, like they have a partial say in my behavior. I respond playfully, "Yes mam." She giggles airily. And it sets my stomach a flutter.

She's here. She's standing in the middle of our dumpy living room. Her hands are in the pockets of her hooded sweater, and she is staring, around, up and down. She finds my gaze and holds it. She is gorgeous… every last bit of her, gorgeous because she is her, no one else, plain, simple, and real. My love for her has made her perfect, although I am well aware that this is unattainable I thrive on the sentiment—because it makes me feel romantic, it makes me feel kept. And I want to be kept by her. "So, this is it," I say. "What about your room?" I shift from foot to foot. "It's not clean." "If you don't want me to see it… that's okay." She shakes her head and looks to her feet. I walk forward and slide my hand into her sweater pocket; I fish out hers and lead her to my room. As we touch my palms sweat. Her hands are still soft, warm, a little sweaty too. It makes my stomach ache, being this close, but I keep my mouth shut. I do a pseudo smile and gingerly open my bedroom door. It creaks like it always does and we walk inside. There isn't much; a bed, an open rail with a few clothes hanging, and a plethora of books. She looks to me and then

walks away. She sits on the edge of my bed. I go to her, feeling my stomach churn in hope and fear. She asks a simple question. "You like living here huh?" I nod and for some reason I can't keep my hands to myself. I lace her fingers with mine and allow our hands to rest on the upper part of my thigh. This all feels so strange. It's as though I'm afraid of her, it's as though she's afraid of me. We both stare at fingers and thumbs. I stroke her soft skin with mine and her hold becomes tighter. We haven't run out of words to say but we just don't feel like talking. Being this close to her is comforting but new. Newness is frightening. Bella shifts closer and I tense up. Her head leans upon my shoulder and I soften, I want her closer, I want her all around me. She smells so sweet and she is so close. I unlace our fingers and wrap my arms around her. She hums and closes her eyes. "I miss you." Our newest mantra. "I miss you too." I hold her tighter. I feel my eyes snap shut and I squeeze. My lids begin to flutter and then I open them back up. She's still here, in my arms, the place I always want her to be. "Edward, it's been 9 months." "I know." Her voice is muffled as she speaks against my chest, "I'm proud of you." "Oh," I say, because I had thought those 9 months signified our time apart, not my time of sobriety. I attempt to recover, "Amazing huh?" I feel her smile. "Yea. You are." "Always the charmer," I murmur, pressing a soft kiss into her hair. She is still in my arms, voice still muffled. She sighs and recites, "By the fire we break the quiet, learn to wear each other well…" She looks up at me with a very sheepish grin. "I think of you, when I hear that song." I stroke her cheek with the pad of thumb. "Fits," I murmur. She hums back into my chest, "I'll be here for you, whenever you need me." I swallow, I offer back something measly. "I'll be here for you too, whenever you need me." And she delights me, her voice sweet and calm, she sings softly, mouth to my heart "Shut your eyes and sing to me." She looks up and catches my full blown grin; she smiles back and places a chaste kiss on the tip of my nose. "Thank you for letting me see your room." I hold her to my chest. "You're always welcome." Half an hour later, she meets Jasper. He returns home from a sleepover at Alice's and grins on command when I mention Bella's name. He has wanted to meet her. He has wanted to see the girl that turns me into what he calls a pussy. "So you're the girl he's crazy about." All of his teeth are on show and his accent is evenly pronounced. He stands looking shamelessly between us and when Bella looks to me with a questionable stare he shakes his head and disappears. "Ass," I mutter.

"Crazy about me?" Her smile borders on a smirk and it makes me want to kiss it off. I sit on the couch and drag her down with me. "Shut up." She pinches my thigh and I hiss playfully. She grins and reaches for my chest, clamping her thumb and forefinger over my clothed nipple. I let out a guffaw, it is incredulous and pained. I can't really fathom her actions but they delight me nonetheless, even more so when she giggles. Her face pink as my eyes widen. "So unnecessary." Bella rolls her eyes. "Funny though." I grab her hands. "Very." She smirks. "Tactile." I run my palms up her forearms. "Terribly." She arches a brow. "Invasive too." I stop at her elbows. "Says the nipple pincher." We stare at one another. Close. Her face is inches away and our legs are interlocked. No one is about. Jasper is in the shower now and we have this moment to ourselves. Seeing her face again is like a happy memory. I can't help but grow a little nostalgic, a little fixated. "What are you staring at?" Her voice is mischievous, as is the cock in her brow. I grin boldly. "You." "Something on my face?" "Yea," I reply. Her tone softens, "What?" I lean forward and I kiss her once. I pull back and wait for her to say something. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm just doing. "You can't do that," she murmurs. And so I do it again. "You really can't…" And so I do it again. "Edward…" And again. "Please…"

And again. "Not unless you…" Again. "Unless you…" And again. "Please," she whispers. My voice cracks, "Please what Bella?" She looks down, nothing coming from her mouth, nothing but a long steady breath. I ease her face back up, I finger her jaw. "We can't keep dipping in and out Edward." I am exasperated. "I know." I think about, getting high, because getting high is an easy out. She pushes my hand away. "We're friends now." She says this as though it's a question. I rest back, feeling loose. "Right." She looks at me. "I don't want to pressure you. I know, being as you are, it's scary to think of what's next…" I want to hold her. I just want to wrap her up and thank her, let her know that her waiting means the world. But instead, "Thank you," is all I say. She shrugs and smiles sadly, "its okay Edward." She sounds so depressed. I don't know what to do, and so stupidly I sit there, feeling so young and so dumb and so small. "What should I do?" I'm despondent. I feel her hand reach for mine. She holds it. "Look out for yourself. Get some of your confidence back. When you're satisfied, come find me." I don't like her tone. I don't like her words. "You think this is down to me being unsatisfied?" "Yes." "That's not true, that's not true at all." "I know what makes me happy Edward. And selfishly for years I let you slip just so I could have you… whatever you think, whatever you're feeling now, all of your problems stem from being…" she hesitates, "…unfulfilled." I still don't know what to do. "Edward, I'll always be here—so stop worrying. You have nothing to prove to me." That's it. That's the thing. I do have something to prove. I want her to realize that I can be more than an addict. More than her former drugged up boyfriend. I can be her man, her rock steady, I can be someone who can be whole. But I don't tell her that, because it will sound so stupid, so cheap, so corny. "Thank you," is my paltry response.

And because she is Bella, and because she is all the things I am not, she raises my fist to lips, ghosting my knuckles with a soft kiss. "Thank you," I whisper. Because thanks is all I can offer. A/N: Song that Bella recited and then sung to Edward: Shut Your Eyes by Snow Patrol. Sorry if these two are frustrating you, I frustrate myself sometimes. ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### Chapter: 20

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. STAMPEDE OF A THOUSAND PULSES 20. Snippets of a Year "I mean, I can't exactly describe the way I was feeling. It was so just… there… it was just like, a hairsbreadth away." I am enraptured, because Kate almost relapsed last night. She came here on this sunny Saturday afternoon to tell us. It's like brutal warning. A flash of dark in our light soaked pan. This could so easily happen to any one of us. But Alice won't ever let that happen to Jasper. Or at least that is what I'm thinking as she grips his fingers. His jaw is clenching and his eyes are hard. I can't tell if he's angry or simply distressed. I feel lonely now, because no pretty girl is holding my hand, no pretty attentive girl, no pretty attentive girlfriend. It's like I'm battling two versions of myself. Depressed and highly dosed. I can't dodge them. They're in my eye line and I can't get pass either one. Kate looks to me now, she smiles understandingly, and for once her gaze isn't one that I find discomforting. We share an amicable stare and Jasper speaks up, "You didn't though, and that's what's important." She nods, biting her lip as she looks toward me. I speak up, "Most would have fucked up, be happy that you didn't." "Thanks Edward." "I've got to… get some air or fuck, I don't know." Jasper stands. But Alice doesn't follow. She is of course aware, she understands, she gets that when he say's I he means I and I only. Kate looks on, her eyes to Alice as Alice eyes Jasper's retreating frame. She thinks that she should go after him. "Edward?" I look toward her. "You okay?" Her voice is so sweet, so small and tender and she looks just like her when she's acting concerned. I want to punch

myself, pinch my skin, rattle my brain so I stop hallucinating, stop day dreaming. I mumble, fumble my words slightly, "Y-yea, I'm… fine." Alice furthers, "You sure?" Please stop asking, please stop talking, please stop looking and acting the way you do. I shake my head, I let a fake chuckle escape me and I reply with, "Yea, just weirded out a little I guess." She hums. "I'm gonna go make some coffee, tell me if you guys want some." And then she disappears. I watch her move out, out and into the kitchen. I feel Kate's eyes on mine. I feel her scrutinizing all of my prior words and actions. She doesn't say anything though. For a moment I blanch, the thought that she's seen and reached into my head is disturbing. I lean back, drawing a breath, hoping that my behavior is unnoticed. But something inside tells me better. Kate rises and joins Jasper on the balcony.

Days pass and I'm in my room alone again, a book between my fingers again, words flying off the page again. I'm here being good. I'm here reinventing and conjuring up a new version of the old. I've eradicated the addict. I'm trying to eradicate the lows. That's the hardest part though. They come and go and come and stay and leave and jump and pounce and attack. And I'm trying to fill the holes up. I'm trying so hard, and it's becoming a colossal effort. Sometimes I stare into the mirror. It feels like an eternity because I can't focus on the whole. I stare at tiny parts, bit by bit, dissecting each spec. I try to understand what makes me handsome—because I get told that I am. I get told that I'm appealing and hot and easy to look at. I get told that I'm good enough. Outside I'm good enough. Bella would stare at me sometimes, not an ogle, but a stare. And it was like she looking right into me. Burning holes as I strained to keep them open and stare back. She'd say she'd loved me and then she would kiss me. She loved the dirty, depraved, ugly, stink that I was, the stink that I could still be. "I love you," she would reiterate. I look back to my books. I study some more and those memories fade, a little. I study and study and it makes me realize how smart I am. How focused I can be. How so blindly determined I am to forget and forgo and foolishly hope that I can be someone different. My name will still be Edward but I'll be someone else entirely. The ache in my chest will dissipate and I will be okay and happy and satisfied. She'll see. I'll show her. I'll prove myself. I'll be good. I just want to be good. I stare at the words on the page over and over and over again. My neurosis no lighter. Science and math and logic and number and all those fucking words that mean nothing but what they mean exactly. No emotion. No supplementary. No further. No nothing but the literal. And it leaves me feeling so empty that I hurl the shiny new study book I hold in my hands across the room in a fury.

I keep a distance from all the other students I am with. No one really bothers me. I get curt nods of the head and brief words of acknowledgement. In the corner of my eye I sometimes see girls gazing, giggling behind hands and pretending to be not noticing me. It should in theory make me feel good, knowing that I am courting attention from the fairer sex, but not really. For a moment I feel nice. I feel like I can stride past and hold my head up because I'm that guy. I'm the smart one, the handsome one, the one that is airily astute. But what the hell does that all mean anyway? For a moment I am noticed. I am talked about. I am admired. And then when I go home at night I am left alone, with my thoughts, and insecurities, my hole in my chest, and my confused as fuck heart.

Bella comes here every other week, to talk and rest and be. Every time she comes I get a rush—like sucking sugar

from the air. She wraps me up in a hold, so tight and warm and friendly and it makes me laugh because it's so ridiculous to feel so giddy. I am the pussy Jasper says I am. Letting go has become a running joke. We hold each other and hug until she walks me backward into the hallway, it's as though we are playful lovers, but not quite, our lips don't meet, our hips don't grind, we just hug. "Are you being serious?" "Yes. Read to me." "Bella this will probably put you to sleep." She rests back without asking, collapsing comfortably onto my bed. I look at her. She is dressed in a swamping sweatshirt. This isn't her usual attire. I tug at it and she smiles. "Thanks for letting me wear it." I smile back, feeling good. She looks right in what's mine. I sigh and read and it sounds, silly. But she's looking at me and she's smiling, so I keep going because pleasing her makes me giddy and a huge fucking pussy and I kind of enjoy it. "The epidermis is dotted with sweat pores and anchored to the inner dermis by a double row of peg like papillae…" I stop, look back to her. She's watching me. "Bored yet?" She shakes her head, and so I continue. "Loops have concentric hairpin shaped ridges and are divided into the radial and ulnar to denote their slopes in relation to the radius—" "—I have absolutely no idea what you're reading about." "I told you it was boring." She sits up, scooting down to sit next to me. "Enlighten me then." "Enlighten you?" "Yea." "Okay." I flip between pages. "We're learning about the five general patterns in finger prints." I look at her and then back to the book. "It's pretty basic, if you're going to I.D someone positively… It's kind of essential in police procedure… dactyloscopy." "Dactyloscopy?" "Yea." I swallow, because she looks so pretty up close. I wonder if she knows she's pretty up close. I wonder if she looks in the mirror like I do and sees herself and sees how pretty she is. "Interesting." "Not its not." I shut the book, so, so angry, so, so fed up. "Its boring… really fucking boring." "Edward," she chuckles, her hand on my forearm, her skin touching mine. "I wasn't humoring you." "I know that." I know she wants to know me, she wants to know me whole, even if it is tedious. "Then why the outburst? I want to know what you're studying… I want to know—" "—Bella I find this boring." She furrows her brows, taking the book from my hands, placing it on the bed. "Then why are you studying it?"

"I was trying… I wanted to be… fuck I was, I don't know what the fuck I was doing, what I'm doing… does that even, make sense?" Bella is surprised. I can tell. Her face is… piqued. "You should be doing something you love." "Love?" "Yea, something that makes you happy." "You… you make me happy." And just like that I've gone too far. I've crossed our comfortable line of friendship. I'm back to grabbing, and reaching, and taking, because I just can't help it. "You make me so, so happy."

"I'm taking a sabbatical." My father sits across from me. He is a man of few words. He nods once and learns forward. His huge cherry oak desk obstructs our contact; his hands are folded in front of him. "Okay." "Okay?" I ask incredulously. He draws a short breath. "You're mother and I, we're separated, have been for a while now." "Why didn't you tell me?" "College is a strenuous time. She wanted to let you know but I knew better…" I slump back. "I guess." I'm not mad, or sad, or anything. I just feel nothing, nothing at all, because my mother has never been a solid fixture in my life. I've never felt her, never known her to be close. Gruffly he changes the subject, points the line back to me. "During this sabbatical, what exactly do you have planned?" "Um, voluntary placements… I—." "Sounds vague. Vague is never good." "Dad…" "Edward I know at your age things are never clear, and that's okay—but as a man, you have to determine and dedicate your time to making decisions. Don't ever be flighty; it will get you no where." I'm too scared. I'm too frightened of fucking up again. "Life is hard; don't let that make you weak. Decide, even if it all blows up in your face, even if you resent that decision… being a man is learning how to carry those responsibilities. Don't waver, don't run." It's as if he's talking for himself—like he's goading himself. I stutter. I speak truth, "I'm trying, to be strong, to be a man." He comes before me and sits on the edge of his desk. "I know," he says. "I know and… I forgive you, for messing up when you were younger. Can you forgive me? For messing up? For being…" "…done," I say. "Dad I'm sorry." He doesn't know. He doesn't know how deep my fuckery goes. How I blew his money on cheap pills and powders. He doesn't know I took his money to pay back my girlfriend. He doesn't know a thing.

"A clean slate. We'll start over and we'll be what we should be…" "I've done some things…" I begin and he hushes me, holds up his hands and tells me its okay. I grab his mercy, greedy for redemption, greedy for love. I nod, feeling so emotional, feeling so unworthy that I reach forward and pull my father into an awkward embrace. "I'm sorry." He pats my back, his arms reticent but there. "So am I." And then hugs me for real and it feels so good, to have someone love me, to know that he loves me. "I love you son." It levitates me.

Jasper and I are on the couch, drinking sodas and eating pizza. We're dressed in sweats. We look a state but we don't care. We're watching an action movie; the female lead runs and her tits bounce and her lips pout and she has this long flowing lax of hair that almost looks fake… it probably is. She's the epitome of sex, and for some reason it revolts me. "So you figured out where you going yet?" I finish my soda, crushing it slightly and answer, "I looked up online; there are these placements in the poorer parts of Johannesburg." Jasper turns, his eyebrows shoot up. "Dude are you fucking kidding me? Those parts have the highest crime rate through out the whole of South Africa. You could get maimed on a fucking street corner… there's gangs and all types of shit going on down there." I roll my eyes. "I googled it, I'm pretty up to date, but thanks for the warning." "What the fuck you gonna do there?" "There's this hostel placement, like working within a church—a place where these homeless people come for a safe nights sleep." "There's a shit load of drugs down there too." I groan, because he always such a ball buster. "Jasper… shut up, for fucks sake." "Have you thought this through though? Are you absolutely 100% sure that you're up to coping with heavy stuff like that?" I shrug. "We'll find out when I get there." He picks up the last slice of pizza. "You told Bella yet?" "No." "Well good luck with that." The conversation ends and we go back to watching the stupid movie. A car blows up, and then another, and then a helicopter lands somewhere, and the girl's shirt gets wet, it all ends when the hero and heroine grope in the middle of a crowded police office. We stay awake, eating and order another on pay per view.

She's silent. She isn't saying much. She's looking down and concentrating on the hole in my hoody that she wears. She's pushing her finger through it. She's twisting the material around and around. "For how long?" "It's a three month placement." She nods. "If it's what you want." She sighs. "But, it sounds so dangerous… If anything happened to you…" I stroke her cheek. "I'll be fine." Bella takes my hand, pressing it to her face. I draw her close to me. I don't want her to be down. I've had enough with the downs. I want her to laugh and giggle and be silly. So I make a joke, I say something absurd. "I'll be out of your hair; you can go live it up and party all night long, dance on table tops and go absolutely crazy." She pokes my side as we hug. "As if." "Record it and make me a tape. I'd be willing to see you jiggle about any day." She giggles. "That sounds so perverted." I ease her head back, making her look up at me. I look down with a smile. "This is me we're talking about here." She scoffs, giggling. "Shut up Edward."

The day has come. I'm packed. I have this huge bag that has multiple straps, like I'm going into the wilderness. It has a rope chain, a pad lock the size of my fist, mesh for a water flask—it's a monstrosity. My father called me. He calls me often now. It's like he misses me and is unashamed. He calls to talk and he tells me about his day. Sometimes I stare at the phone, like I can't believe this is the same guy. Jasper is in his room, Alice is in the living room ironing, Kate called… she's coming over later, because Alice has organized a farewell dinner. Bella will be here too. I shave, but only with clippers, because she likes my stubble and I style my hair away from my face and I let Alice iron a blue button down. I want to look okay for her. "Do I look okay?" I ask quietly so Jasper doesn't hear, so he doesn't take the piss out of me. "You look great." Alice bumps my shoulder playfully. "You'll have her drooling." I look at her and she rolls her eyes. "Come on Edward, we all know you want her to miss you. I can't wait to meet her." I'm a little bashful. "She's a lot like you." "Yea? How so?" "She's sweet too." She blushes somewhat, folding another shirt. "I hope you get everything you want." Her hand comes to my arm. "You know the world is full of heartbreak. Its nice to see the people you know be happy." "Jasper knows how lucky he is." She pats my chest, a silly smile on her face. "Of course he does."

Dinner is good. Alice made barbeque type food. I'm eating and eating and even laughing. Things were a little awkward at first. Kate was introduced to Bella and was, overly nice. Bella of course acted cordially. She listens to Kate as Kate goes over how we all met, how we're still all friends, how stupid I am, because Kate thinks it's funny to make a fool of me. I blush as she recalls the moment I fell over the leg of the coffee table. Bella turns. "You're leg's okay now?" "Yea, its fine." She rubs my thigh, she keeps her hand there and I can feel Kate looking, but I don't care, as a matter of fact I want her to see… I want this crush to be over with already. I grab her hand and we lace fingers. It makes my face heat up. My whole left side heats up. I find myself leaning into her, people are looking but I don't care. I let my nose fall into her hair. I inhale and smile to myself. I think I want to kiss her, right here, right now; I want to kiss her face off. "Geez Edward give her some room." I ignore Kate. I ignore everyone, even Jasper, who has this smirking guffaw on his face. Alice is indifferent, she is small in everything—she averts her eyes to her boyfriend and turns his chin toward her. "Leave him alone," she whispers and suddenly Jasper is all but a lost puppy. They all look onto the TV, an episode that has Kate all of a sudden engrossed. "Edward," Bella whispers. "Yes?" "You okay?" "Yes." "I can't believe you're leaving in tomorrow." She sighs, relaxes into me as we sit alone on the two seater. I wrap my arm around her. We all spend the rest of the evening watching TV, its all laidback, it's all low key, and we're all a little sluggish from our big meal. Kate announces she has to go and when she leaves we hug briefly, she shakes Bella's hand and high five's Jasper. For a moment I feel sorry for her, I tap her shoulder and she turns. "Be good for me," I say, and she smiles on departure. The night dwindles. I feel strange. It's 8pm and the sun light has faded fast. "I better get going." Bella stands and looks out the window. "It's pretty dark out." I go to stand behind her, I pull back the curtain, a sly move on my part—I only want to crowd her. I feel the rise of her behind on my crotch and I will myself steady. My libido is testy, but not as desperate. I move back a little and she catches me. I look down sheepishly. "Sorry." Her hands find mine, she puts them around her. "Don't be." I take full advantage. I bury myself in her warmth, nuzzling her neck, closing around her. We sigh together, and I whisper, "Love me?" Her reply is breathy. "Yes." "I'm coming back to get you," I say, and my stomach flip flops at my admission. I feel her vibrate, something deep from inside her. "Really?" "Yes." I decide. "…Yes."

It's as if she doesn't want to look at me, like all I'm saying is a dream, and in a way I feel the same—like this moment is make believe. But it's been a year, a long year at that and I've kept my promise. I've abstained and I've been clean and I'm good now, at least I'm trying to be. And that is a decision, not an obligation and it's because I want her. I want her whole. I want to know what its like to love her without the haze, with out drugs in my system, with out a cover up for my insecurities. "You want me back?" I ask. She turns in my arms, her face fresh and sweet and pretty. "Yes." And my whole being is sparked. When the time comes, I might just overload on it. Get higher and higher until I touch some type of heaven. I don't think I'll come down. I don't think she'll let me. A/N: Sup. Fic's almost done. You can quit complaining now. Meanwhile, there is a contest taking place. Some of the best authors around are judging, so you should enter. Mmmkay? To enter, use this link (minus the spaces): http : / www. fanfiction. net/u/2379475/ The deadline is June 30th, so you have time. The theme is Superheros and so you can have fun with it. I may even enter. I will be reading all of the entries too-just because... so make it good. Thanks for reading. ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### Chapter: 21

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. STAMPEDE OF A THOUSAND PULSES 21. Complete I swing my legs from the wall, waiting for my friend to arrive. I miss him. Emmett is sweet and caring. We will never be more than friends, I will never be attracted to him, but I will love his heart, his soul, his ways and his warmth. He appears, a shy smile on his face. He looks okay, not broken or angst ridden. He looks fine to me. But I don't want to jump ahead of myself and so as soon as we are caught up in a hug I ask, "How are you?" "I'm cool Bella," he replies, hands brushing hair from my face. He cups my cheeks and kisses my forehead. "How are you?" "I'm cool Emmett," I say, in a way that is playful, and all of a sudden our timidity is broken and we are back to normality. He grins and tells me he's getting a promotion. He looks at me sometimes, a slight wandering eye—but I don't flinch or let on.

I squeeze his hand and tell him there's a curvy blond eyeing him from behind the desk. He mumbles something about mixing work with pleasure and we both giggle. The woman looks away with wistful eyes and I gesture back. "She likes you." He sighs, "You don't have to roll me off to the nearest girl… I'm not gonna pounce on you, you know…" I feel bad, but this wasn't my intention so I straighten up. "I know. I wouldn't do that." "Good," he retorts, and then a sly grin appears. "And for your information—I noticed."

Edward is confused. Not about me. About school. He is fine academically. Drugs have not fried him—but he is still unsure. I realize this as he shakes, taking my hands in his, confessing that he's not as astute concerning his career path as he had thought. For a short while I feel bonded, there have been times I have been the same. But I am pretty sure I'll get a job in a museum some where. I love art, but it hordes my limits. Artists are poorly paid. I paint but not in a way that is special, and so writing and teaching is deemed a better choice. I tell Edward this and his face brightens. "You figured it out?" I shrug and smile. "I wouldn't mind preserving the works of others." He kisses my knuckles. "As long as you're happy." I frown. "But what about you?" And then he tells me, and my stomach drops. South Africa? I want to grab a hold of him just to see if it will keep him here. My head spins in indignation. I want to be mad and furious. I want to whine and complain. I want to be so self indulgent and clingy. But I just sit there, thrusting a hole into the comfortable sweat shirt I wear. Thinking that maybe if I stretch the material enough Edward will look at it once I take it off and realize I am as anxious and needy as ever. He smiles at me. I melt and drop tense shoulders. And in a way I understand. I get that this is the new version of him. He's searching for some type of fulfillment, trying to see if bettering the lives of the less fortunate will fill up his cavities. It makes me feel small. I shouldn't hate this decision. It can't always be about us. And after all, that is what got us into this mess; it being about desire and want and neediness. Sex and lust and drugs and attention… it did no good. The only purity is the love we happened to stumble upon, and all of the above are just, things—things that are easily replaced by other things. "I'll be fine," he tells me, after I profess my worry for his safety. And so I grab, greedily at his skin pressing his hand to my face, wishing I could feel him all around me, forever and ever and… God, I love him.

I want to tell him this, but I keep my mouth shut. Love is something you show. And so I show it. I nod and understand and let him air his heart. Its understanding—not self obsessed. And then I think of that line; 'when we fall in love, we're just falling in love with ourselves', and it makes me question how much I depend on him to make me feel beautiful. It was always an issue—the fact that he made me feel so incredibly central, and absolute. It's a selfish need, having him all to myself, and so no matter how much I'm pining… I'll let him go. "Record it and make me a tape," he jokes, but I can hear the cover up in his voice—he wants me to smile, and so I oblige and I dig myself out of self pity, and allow myself laughter.

Lips kiss and fingers ghost and voices moan and I wake up again from a hazy sexy dream that leaves me sighing in exasperation. I keep dreaming about him. I keep having these vivid lustful dreams. I fish for my phone and press a key. It lights up: 3.05am. I fling it to the side and collapse onto my flat pillow. I find myself smiling, really smiling and tugging my lip between my teeth. I touch myself and think of him. It isn't enough though, it isn't how I remember it being. It doesn't even live up to my dreams. His kisses are 100 times more potent. I stop half way through, thinking what's the use… those desires are stirred and left to simmer, cold air leaving it flat before I even have a chance to blink. I close my eyes and drift off back to sleep, where Edward is present and his words are hot in my ear.

The day he leaves, and I want to see him off, but the class I have is vital and instead I am to do with a phone call. We are a little passionate. Our words insinuating, promising things once he returns, hoping for sparks to fly. They do, for a few seconds I am flustered, because Edward's voice is low and throaty, but then his flight is called, and he has to leave. "I have to go," he tells me. "O… okay." "I love you," he sighs. "I'll call you, I promise." "Okay." "Bella… baby…" My breath hitches. He hasn't called that since, since forever and it sounds so familiar and so sweet. "Baby…" He chuckles. "God, does that sound weird?" I smile, because it does, but instead I say, "I don't know Edward baby… sounds pretty nice to me." And he laughs so adorably. "You're right. Sounds perfect actually…" Our light mood lessens. "I'll miss you." "I'll miss you too."

"Stay focused for me." "Yea," I say, "You too." In the background I hear the announcement repeated. "I have to go baby…" Terms of endearment that make me feel warm are flowing now. And I miss them and I want them and I just wish these 3 months would just be over with already. "Okay." "…Okay." I give an almost laugh. "Go, or you'll miss your flight." "Right," he sighs. "I'm going now." "Bye Edward." "Bye Bella." The line cripples and the phone call is over.

We're holding hands, Lola and I. She is always touchy feely, and even though there are whispers amongst our college mates, she doesn't bat an eyelid. We're both past silly whispers and rumors. It's a nice day and so we take a walk on the grounds. "Jake took me to see this movie last night, it was so bad… like one of those gross out comedies. His laugh was the loudest in the whole theatre. For someone so smart he sure has a dumb sense of humor." I chuckle. "Jake is easy… so I don't see why his humor wouldn't be the same." "Yea," she retorts. "Someone just has to fart and he'll be rolling on the floor." I bump her shoulder. "You love it." "I do not." "Oh please, you think it's cute… that's why you can't stop talking about it. Jake this/Jake that." She smiles sheepishly. "You're right… he is cute… and dumb… and so hot." We giggle at her confession and then she asks, "How's Edward?" "He called last night, he's fine," I reply, kicking loose gravel with the tip of my sneaker. Lola nods. "Just fine?" I frown. "The phone cut out." "He didn't call back?" I let out a huff. "It kept cutting out… I figure he'll try and call me tonight." We walk and walk and my hand is getting sweaty, but Lola isn't letting go. She swings our palms together. At times she skips, and it feels like I am a child all over again. She starts back up with the skipping, and it's a little

embarrassing seeing as we are passing a whole hoard of students congregating on the grass. She giggles airily and forces me to keep up with her, and I do, and I feel so silly. But it makes me laugh, and it would seem as though laughter is the best medicine.

We talk every night. The cell phone he had, with all its gadgetry had died. I had to wait a full two days for an explanation, and I would be lying if I said I hadn't been worrying. "The Iphone went to the grave Bella, not me." I wanted to roll my eyes at his bad humor, but I smiled instead. "There's this one girl, she wrote me a love note. She's 8 years old." And I could imagine her falling for him, like how I did, how I still am, even after 7 years. It's a lazy day. Me and my bed and Edward's ratty black t-shirt. I spend a lot of time horizontal, legs bent, sometimes in the air as I hear him talk me through his whole day. Each is full, packed with duties and kids… lots of kids. "They're everywhere." "You sound fond." "It's weird. I don't mind them…" "You and a bunch of kids…" I laugh. "You're right, it is weird." "Hey, I'm pretty good with them." "Really?" I scrunch my nose in disbelief. "Have faith. Besides… prepares me the future." I chew on the inside of my lip. We've never had this conversation. And funnily enough, I don't peg myself as the maternal type. "Do you want kids?" "If it was with you… I think it would be pretty okay." I smile. "Pretty okay?" I think he's smiling too. "We could name our boy Ed Junior… our girl Bellarina…" "That's terrible." "How about Edwina?" "Ew." I laugh. "No way." "Edella?" "Definitely not." He laughs. "So you'll be picking out the names?" "Sure, if you'll birth the babies." "Well I'll help conceive…" "Hmm," I hum, nervousness clouting me. "I think… that would probably be the most enjoyable part." I wonder if he's planned this, practicing his flirtatiousness.

Probably not. I think all of this is spontaneous. And I can tell, he's pacing each sentence, almost as if he testing very tepid waters. He clears his throat, my silence doing nothing to enable him. "You think about me still?" he asks, him timbre a little higher. I sigh, because this is a silly question. "Yes." "I think about you all the time, Bella." It's nice to know this. Slowly, we are both rediscovering our sensuality. We are careful, as neither of us want to become dependant on it. He's a mixture of sexiness and tenderness. And I don't feel dirty. I don't feel guilty for being turned on. It's a high emotional balance, but the good kind… the kind that makes me feel cherished. "Can't wait to touch you again." I go warm and close my eyes. "Two months," I sigh. "I'll be counting down the days."

We continue our regular routine. Roaming charges are ridiculous and so I decide to purchase a multitude of phone cards. They come in handy and our time on the phone lengthens into the early mornings. He seems lighter. All of his experiences are leading him to think that his worries are cheap. "It's nothing," he tells me. "All of what I've been through, it's nothing in comparison to some of what I've seen here." But he also tells me of South Africa's beauty. "I want to come back here… with you… I think you'd like it." I think about it. I fantasize and dream, and I decide that this would absolutely have to happen. "I think I'm over myself," he chuckles. One month passes and then two and we're somewhere in limbo with waiting. Strangely enough, it doesn't feel like before. I'm not tired or weary. I'm just living, and in a way through Edward—all of his experiences and stories are allowing me to empathize. "It's nothing." And in the end I know we'll okay.

It's another blazing hot day. Lola has convinced me that dresses are convenient in this weather. I'm walking along the fresh cut grass in Havana's, the floaty material of my dress barely blowing in the static breeze. I feel a little naked, but free… maybe even pretty. I'm catching the attention of a few students, and for once I'm not shying away. I think Lola is rubbing off on me, and once she sees my attire her face goes bright. "You have legs!" she screeches, and in front of many she continues, "And boobs!" I smile at the memory as I eat my lunch on the grass. The sun is kind to me, my skin thankfully isn't burning. I lean back on my elbows and drink in its beams. I feel myself drifting off, my whole body growing lethargic. In the background I can hear other people—the climate causing our grounds to become full of activity and chatter. I grab a sweater from my bag and turn it into a makeshift pillow. I lay back in my solitude and fall asleep.

When I wake my dress clings, I sit up lazily and the grass has indented my skin. I get up and make my way back to my dormitory. My flip flops clap against the concrete, the hollow sound ticking at my ear buds. I think I hear the murmur of my name, but I am aware that I am sleepy, sluggish and possibly hallucinating. "Bella." I hear it again, but I keep the slow slug of my feet going. "Bella," it calls. I turn around to face it. "Three months was just too long." "Edward?" My eyes widen as my stomach drops. "Edward!" And I'm running, straight into open arms. He 'oofs' as I throw myself at him, chuckling as my legs wrap around his waist in welcome. He picks me up, holding me fiercely. "I missed you," I cry. "I missed you, I missed you, I missed you…" "I missed you more," he whispers. I slide down his body, eyes focused on his face. He is tanned, hair somewhat sun bleached. Edward laces his fingers in mine, grins happily and eases me back. "You're in a dress," he notes. "Yea," I say sheepishly. We giggle together. Somehow our reunion is much simpler than I had thought, festive even. Edward's usual seriousness is absent, a wide smile on his beautiful face as we stand and stare. I crush myself back into his arms, content and thrilled at the prospect of us being together again. He wraps himself around me, I can hear his heart beat… its steady thump—he is relaxed and untroubled. I can't quite believe it, and so I pull back, palming his face. "You're okay?" I ask. His smile is gentle and instant. "I'm okay," he replies. "… Are you?" I mirror him with ease. "I'm good," I softly say. Edward leans in, a slight sigh on his breath, his eyes close, and his lips touch mine. Our kiss isn't fiery or explosive. It's warm, and sweet, and familiar. "I love you," I whisper between our molded mouths. I feel him smile, his tongue appears. It slips through my open mouth so slowly, it's a nice feeling, all that wet and soft touching mine. His breath is warm and pepperminty. I move a little closer, my breasts smashed into his hard chest, and he groans. Something about that noise, something about the way it sounds and the way it makes me feel. It shows desire, it emanates longing, and I am so, so longing… Somehow we get frantic. His mouth presses harder and so does mine. It hurts a little, but it feels good, so good it makes me want to curse words in a hundred different languages—because English is so basic, so lacking… and this

is kiss is not that. "Mmm,"he suckles my lip, he tugs, and licks, and breathes, "Bella…" And I get so hot, I claw at him. It's a series of pulling apart to peck each other's lips, hard pursed kisses, slow, long flicks of the tongue. We get so ardent that it is obscene. Love, love, love, I think. I love him so much my chest is burning, flames licking up through my throat as I touch him with hands and mouth and tongue. Soon I jump at him. Legs wrapped around his waist again as he nearly trips backwards, we laugh together as he grips my behind. "My room," I pant. "Mmmph," is his response. And so reluctantly I let go. Edward is flushed pink and it is almost amusing if I wasn't feeling so red hot myself. He picks up his travel bag and follows me toward my room. "You came straight here?" I ask eyeing his baggage. He nods with a smile. "Couldn't wait," he confesses. We knit our hands together, and I tell him he will have to sneak into the girls shower room to get clean. Edward sniffs his shirt, it is a little sweaty—not that I mind. I tell him I can follow, that it won't be a problem seeing as I know many girls have sneaked boyfriends in there before. We walk and walk, and by the time we reach my room we are kissing yet again. A shower is forgotten, everything is forgotten. We eye one another longingly, and he whispers sweet nothings into my ear, causing me to shiver, taking me back to when I was virginal and naïve with the nature of such things. He kisses my ear, suckling the lobe, and lowly promises me his heart. "Forever, and ever," he whispers. "I'll love you Bella… always." His lips move to my neck, and at this point I am beyond incoherent. I am a quivering, quaking mess of limbs and nerves. "Edward," I breathe. "Mmm," he moans, kissing down the length of my neck. I go lax, falling into the plush of my duvet as he moves down my body. I look on as he kisses me further through my clothing, and then I pull him up, urge him to face me. "Edward?" His eyes are sparkling and wide. "Yes baby?" "Bad time," I whisper, remembering my monthly cycle. It was strange to remember. I had been off the pill for a long year, no longer seeing the sense in keeping it a part of my routine. I explain this to him. "Oh," he replies. I cringe. "Sorry." "Its fine," he assures with a sheepish and sleepy smile. "At least I can still kiss you." His face disappears, to my neck, to that spot that makes me whimper. He doesn't even have to kiss me there, he doesn't have to do a thing. The hotness of his breath hits my skin and I am already a quivering mess. "Mm, I miss this," he whispers. "I miss your skin." I try to speak, I try to say something that is complimentary, it doesn't come out as fluently as I had hoped, "I…

you… yes…." Edward breaks into a fit of giggles. "Are you okay?" I bite my lip and nod. Shyness takes me over as I eye him. This man, this newly put together man that looks so content, so willing, as he rests his chin between the rise of my breasts. "Surreal," I murmur, fingering the stubble on his skin. He smiles, kisses the inside of my palm and says, "Real." I breathe in. "Yea, you are." "I always will be." "Kiss me." He comes up. His face at level with mine. "With pleasure." And we kiss, a soft sweet suckle through thirsty lips. Edward rolls to the side, sighing and snuggling into my body. Moments of peace pass, and before I know it we are both sound asleep.

A/n: Mistakes, i'm aware and i am sorry. And btw, Lola is Lucy... sorry again. In a rush, at work, will talk to you all soon. I have submitted an entry to the 'Superhero Contest for Twific' – Edward and Bella are brother and sister in it… sick, but true… Flowers in the Attic anyone? Go to my profile to read, vote if you like… or don't. Thanks for reading. ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### Chapter: 22

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. STAMPEDE OF A THOUSAND PULSES 22. Retouching Time drifts, morning comes, and Edward's skin is clammy against mine. The weather hasn't lessened, the sun just as blazing. I need a shower, but I'm somewhere between sleepy bliss and practicality. I try to get up without alerting him. For our first morning together, I want to look decent at least. Once I am up, I sit at the edge of the bed and yawn. My stomach plummets as I feel his warm arm drag me backwards. I fall back and land. Edward hovers over me, his head upside down to mine. "Hi." His eyes are slit sleepily, a pursed smile on his lips.

"Hi," I squirm. "I was awake before you, you know." I stare up at him, some of his hair falls forward, some mats to his head, some sticks up in angles untamed—it almost looks as if he has been ravished. I want to laugh, but I am just too lazy. I think he can tell, he looks down with a twinkle in his tired eyes. "Why didn't you say anything?" He gives a look of stipulation, purses his soft mouth. "Wanted to soak in the moment." Leaning down he presses a kiss to my forehead, his lips soft and warm. "I stink," he mumbles, causing me to smile. "Hey… you're no better…" I widen my eyes and push him off as I rise. "Remember where you are, I have full right to kick you out for bad behaviour." Pouncing upward, his arms trap me solidly from behind. I feel his hot breath on my neck, the rough growth of stubble as he rubs his face into my shoulder. It all feels picturesque, like any moment I may wake up and he'll disappear… but it won't, he's real… "I still love you though," he tells me. I fight a smile, being girlish has evaded me for so long that the return is too pleasant to resist. "Can I shower with you?" he asks, lips tickling my ear. "Not a good idea," I manage. "No?" "God Edward," I sigh, squirming in his arms slightly. All these affections and touches are causing too many butterflies in my already weak stomach. He smiles into my skin, kissing me feather light on my ear. "Oh yea," he mumbles. "Still bleeding?" I roll my eyes. "Well wasn't it you who said periods were gross?" "I was 17 Bella." "So you're fine with blood now?" "Its blood rejected by your body… as in waste… as in no good…" he cringes as he says this. I scoff. "As in gross." I get up. "And to think you are delving into the medical field…" He chuckles. "I was just stating facts; I never said it bothered me." "You make it sound like it does," I reply, hands on hips. He looks me up and down, a small smile on his face. "You look sassy." I smile back. "Sass is what I'm giving you." "Does it bother you?" he rehashes. "Being on it with me here?" "Well it's not a pretty feeling. Anyway, I'm pretty sure it's finished today… it took a while for me to get regular again."

Guilt crosses his features. I hadn't meant for him to think back to the day he had asked me to go on the pill, but it was the only reason I had done at the time. "I'm sorry for that," he tells me. "For making you feel like you had to…" I shrug. "It was convenient at the time." "Go shower then," he sighs. "I'll go in after you." Edward stares pensively toward me. "We can wait… for as long as you like." I know what he means. I suck in my lip, the thought of sex now nerve racking, whereas yesterday it seemed so natural. Maybe it was best to talk before any of this was to happen. I knew that being together was the next big thing. I knew that sooner or later we would be naked… but it was the notion that it was right around the corner… something that the lost tension would now alert itself to. I wasn't sure if the fact that he had an addictive personality would therefore mean that our sex life would have to be measured… I had thought about it all way too many times, and each thought only deepened my now hesitance. But in all honesty a moment in his arms was good enough, I had to ask though, "Do you think sex would be like it was back when we were…" "…I hope not," he blurts. "I hope this time… we're not dependant on it keeping us happy." He motions for me to sit next to him. "I want to know that each time I get to be with you it's out of love, not just hormones, or me needing a pick me up." I wince. Whilst I had known it was like that, hearing it was still as thwarting. He reaches for my hands and our fingers lace. "I want to show you how much I think of you," he murmurs. "It sounds so corny…" I feel my own embarrassment, but I speak anyway. "We just won't abuse it," I say quietly. He offers me a shy smile. "I bet your beautiful now," he whispers, looking up to me. Remembering the last time we had attempted and failed and how forward I was, I can't even push to think that I would ever be so ostentatious again. For now all I want is to be kissed softly and sweetly… and in a way I am hoping our first time (after all this time) will be just like that. "I can't wait to see how beautiful you are," he says. "I've thought about it so much since…" I blush full on, not sure if it's evident but feeling it in my face. His mouth has grown incredibly sweet since, every word is soft and pretty. "I better go get clean," I say, shyly changing the subject. "Okay."

Once we are clean and I am free of my monthly pest, or as Edward so calls it, blood letting, I take him down to the laundry room. We spend a matter of 30 minutes washing all his clothes, laughing and talking and flirting. I am happy, a touch of joy in my belly as I see his eyes crinkle at the corners freely. I feel so trite, admiring him the way I do. The tendons in his forearms as he leans, the pout in his lips as he tries to fold as neatly as me, his eyes, his nose, his hair… all of it. I want to take a thousand pictures and store them for my own safe keeping. He smiles at me suddenly, reminding me that all of that is unnecessary, that he is here for my open eyes to drink in… and I am somewhat drunk with his presence.

Edward stares at me, his face pensive. He looks as though he is contemplating something, he frowns and the tries to speak but nothing is said. Before either of us know what he's doing Edward throws caution to the wind, he mutters a low 'fuck it' and pushes me to the dryer, caging me between his arms. "Laundry smells good." His breath hits the side of my neck, he isn't facing me and as our bodies breathe against one another, I can sense that he is anxious. Stupidly I stand there, my back aching from the digging top of the dryer. I am leaning away from him. I don't know why. It's almost as if I know the implements of all the things that could happen here. It was so easy when we were younger—fast and heady, we'd dive in without a single thought, and now… now our thoughts seem to haunt. I wish I didn't feel this way, like it would be bad if we were to let our passion get the better of us. I so want to jump in, to just not care, to just not be so damn careful. But knowing the months… the year and months I have waited, I know that this is different. We are different. For all the bad he may have thought about himself, for all the useless enabling I have been guilty of, we are now better. And I can't help myself as I put my arms around him. I push my nose into his warm chest and hold him close. I don't cry. I don't laugh. I don't do a thing but stay in this moment. "Are you okay?" I feel him bring his hands up; one places itself behind my aching back and the other strokes softly down the length on my hair. "Just thinking." "About what?" I pull away slightly, "Doesn't matter," I say finally seeing him. His eyes are clear, pupils small and shining. There are always these moments that leave me feeling dreamy. Being as in love as I am, I just can't help myself from thinking he is everything. The way he makes me feel… it's indefinable. Shyly he dips down causing me to sigh as his lips touch mine. He kisses me, his forehead to mine. "I'm happy," he tells me, brushing hair from my face. "Are you?" "Yes," I reply. His breath comes out in a relieved gust. He dips his nose to my shoulder, drags it across the length and up into the crevice of my neck. I feel his lips open against my skin and I shiver. He is hot, and the air is tight, and I am dressed in a dress yet again, my body more on show, more open to his touch. "I love the way you feel," he whispers shakily. His hands ghost the smoothness of my exposed small show of thigh, fingers dancing little circles below my sundresses hem. The dryer is vibrating softly, its gentle rhythm teasing my back as Edward pushes into me with care. His face full of worry as he waits on me to stop him, to say no, to say something that will cause this provocative position to end with an abrupt shove. But that won't happen. "Lift me?" Edward's eyes meet mine unwaveringly, my eyes so wide that I am failing to blink. I'm nervous, I know this is what he's telling me as he swallows. I take his hands in mine, wrapping them around my body as I hug his neck tight. This seems to calm him; he sighs into my skin and lifts me almost effortlessly, placing me atop of the appliance. I really want him to kiss me now, and I want him to do it without a coax. He is perfectly formed, a beautiful man, and whilst I may not be as slight as I was as an adolescent, I am still capable of being moved and thrown about.

I just want to feel like I'm his woman… I want to know that I am someone he feels protective of. Just for the moment, just to be reminded that I am safe with him. He licks his lips, eyes still staring hard, breathing steady as I stroke the small tail of growing hair at the nape of his neck. "Bella… I want you." I know he's about to kiss me, and kiss me he does. We kiss and kiss and it gets ever increasingly hot in this empty student laundry room. I wrap my legs around him, not wanting him to get away. I pull him so close it is almost suffocating, and it is… really, really hard to breathe… and so he pulls back, gasping. The heat is intense, his cheeks are pink. He looks so handsome and frazzled, even with a blush. Closing the space between us, my breath hitches as our middles meet in cautious gratification. He releases a tight whimper as his lip gets bitten in a way that is unknowingly sexy. I brush my fingers through his silky soft hair, letting my nails meet his scalp gently. Edward's head bends back with my movement, his long lashes touching his skin as his eyes close. I reach the back of his head, my hand bringing it back to face me. Our eyes meet and the staring, the gaze that happens is so intense and sure. Something is going to happen, something that neither of us will be able to turn back on… from here on in, it's all or nothing, and it would seem stalling is stalled. Silence rules, our eyes doing what our voices can't. He bends slowly to meet my lips, and it gets hot all over again, and he pulls back all over again and moves down. His mouth opens across my skin, his breath unsteady and heavy as he brushes his wet mouth along my jaw and neck and below my ear. I close my eyes and tense, I am too worried of sensory overload—it's been so long since he's treated me this way, and I can sense the need to touch intimately. He makes that sound that all together turns me on and sets me loose, a grunt that vibrates up through his chest to his throat. I find myself circling against him, my hips pushing into his, as my legs tighten around him. Edward stiffens, his mouth halting in movement… but I keep grinding into him. I just can't stop myself. "Bella…" I do it again and again until I, myself am breathing heavier. The skirt of my dress is hitching even further up my thighs, my heart pounding. "Touch me," I say, voice muffled as I push my face into his shoulder. I feel shy, I feel like this is something that I should be much more comfortable with, but I am just as nervous. His voice is barely audible as he asks, "Where?" I can't seem to think straight, all I can feel is his hard length rubbing against my pulsing center, and all I can do is want more, and more, and more… and… it is near embarrassing how turned on I am. I keep my face planted in his shirt, my mouth open as I feel him push into me. "I want…. I want us to be… not here," he tells me. But it's as though his words don't match his actions. Edward is pulling me into him, his large hands gripping at my behind. He stops himself, making space and releasing me. "It's okay," I insist. He looks up at me his eyes hard as I place his hand on the inside of my thigh. We look down, the sight and feel of it there is foreign. He hesitantly begins to move it up, the calloused skin of his finger tips ghosting the sensitive flesh of body. I can hear the air expelling from his throat. Edward looks at me, his eyes hazy, his pupils doe like. He swallows, his throat bobbing as he sucks in an errant breath. I know this is a push, I know this is a little lusty, but he's my boyfriend again and I want to feel his hands on me. But the look in his eyes, the indiscretion mixed with want makes him seem so scared of messing anything up. "Are you… are you sure?" "Only if you want…"

He sighs. "Fuck Bella… I always want." For some reason we end up laughing, the abruptness of his confession causing us to giggle. It fills the sexual tension and I fall into his body as we do. I rest my head on his shoulder and allow my chuckles die down slowly. And I stay there for a while, and I feel him relax, his arms not so tense, his breathing not so quick. And then he touches me there, right there, a hesitant massage that gets deeper as I turn my face into his neck. It feels good, nice, sweet, sexy… "I love you," he tells me. "I just want it to feel right" He angles his head to allow his lips to meet my neck and I turn into a complete shivering mess. I suck in my stomach, trying to brace myself, but it doesn't work. He is too capable at this, like his time of abstinence has done nothing to damper his skill. "Feels… so…" I am now grinding into his touch, aching to feel skin to skin contact, wanting to just be dirty in this improper state. "Good?" he asks, an unsure peak in his voice. "Yes," I ensure greedily. Edward eases back, stares at me as his hands disappear under and up dress. He reaches the hem of top my panties, fingers gripping at the material. I nod once and he slowly inches them down and removes them completely. It's freeing to know that I am now bare, but there is sense of apprehension in the way... and I just want it gone. I am almost dying to feel his hands on me, wondering how different it will be, how intense it may get. "Can I put… my fingers…" I grab his hand so swiftly he almost gasps, but the chance is lost once I moan at his touch. "Shit..." I breathe; his touch is like nothing I can fully describe. His eyes travel down, my dress bunched up messily around my stomach, giving him plain sight of what he is doing to me. I look to his face, his eyes trained and unmoving, his jaw slightly slack at the scene. "Looks so good," he whispers, voice breaking. I lick my lips, look down to his fingers dancing over me. I force my thighs down, trying not to grind, or roll my hips into the humming dryer beneath me. Edward moves closer, looking to the door of the room. His eyes dart back to my body, his wet lips open as he takes both hands to part me gently. He looks up, asking for permission and I meet him with chaste kiss. He croaks, swallowing, parting my flesh and stroking two calloused finger tips up through me. I can hear his shallow breath, almost as shallow as mine, both or mouths hanging open in the sheer erotic flow. I watch as he grows more impatient, his tendency to tease me long gone, Edward's fingers circles the place that needs his touch the most. I moan out, embarrassingly loud, unable to contain how special and stirring it finally feels to have him so intimately close without guard or fault. His other hand comes up behind my head, his fingers massaging just underneath my hair, repeatedly smooth and gentle. "I love you," he whispers into my ear. "I'll do whatever you want me to… whatever baby." His voice is low and tickling in my ear, and I can't speak. I am incapable of it. He continues to massage my sensitive flesh, I can hear it as well as feel it, his mouth hot on my skin as he places soft kisses into my neck. "I want…"

His lips brush, his tongue just touching the bone of my collar as he speaks, "What… what do you want?" "Inside… all the way in..." He slips one in and then two, moves them out, my slickness sucking them back in and we sigh at the sight. "Fuck,"he breathes. We are so lusty, so driven by our sexual province that it gets erratic. Soon he speeds up, his fingers pulsing in and out, and I push, and wiggle, and moan. "Oh Edward." He pumps, and pumps, and pushes, and it's so wet but neither of us cares. I can see his erection growing by the second and all I want to do is kneel down before him, and suck, because all of this feels so damn euphoric and due. I just want to be sexual with him, I want us to be in good love, in good lust, have good sex… I arch my back in pure expectant ecstasy and his eyes dart up to my pushed out chest. His hand that was once in my hair now squeezes and caresses my heaving breast. He growls low and sexy, his eyes hazy and hooded. I see his bugle now fighting against his pants and I reach for his zipper. "No," he tells me. "Not here… let me just…" He looks to my body, his fingers... "Shit, for now… just… let me please you." I moan, suddenly feeling too caught up to even protest. I shove the straps of my sundress down, they fall at my shoulders and I hastily try to push the front of the material to expose my breasts. Edward's eyes bug out. "No, don't… please God, I can't handle…" I know he has a weakness for my breasts, I know this and I don't care… I just want. I whine, "But I need it, I need you to touch me there too… please." I sound so needy it should embarrass me, but my orgasm is on its brink, and my pride is long gone. I give an almighty tug, gaping the material, hearing a faint rip in the fabric as my goal is reached. My breasts are freer and there to be pushed up and out the top of my dress. I do so and he groans so loudly that I feel it in rumble in my own stomach. "Fuck," he sighs, eyeing them in heat. And that's all it takes, with his fingers pumping furiously inside me, he ducks to suck a nipple into his mouth. I let out a pre-panic-whimper, which quickly converts into a low moan. His tongue plays with my nipple, flicking it back and forth speedily. I bite my lip, basking in the attention, breathing a little heavier. "Yes," I sigh. "Like that." He hums and sucks my breast even harder, I buckle and he groans around me. Applying more pressure with his mouth I feel him release it as he licks across, paying the other nipple ample attention with his tongue. I can feel it building and building, and his coordination is too much to handle. He presses down on my most sensitive spot using his angled thumb, and I almost collapse recklessly as he releases my breast from his mouth. He feels the clench of my climax approaching. He leans in to kiss me squarely, and I come with his mouth on mine. "I love you," he whispers. I look at him so drunk and lazy that he smiles, I smile back we stay there, blissful and dozy. "Thank you," I manage. He smiles into my neck. "Anything for you." I hum, his fingers slowly pulling out me. I take a hold of his hand and bite my lip as I make a face at how messy it is. He looks too and with a small shrug of his shoulders he grins. I hold it still, twisting and turning to find a towel to

wipe off his fingers. "What are you doing?" he asks. "Cleaning you up, we came here to wash things not dirty them…" He chuckles, looking at me as if I am joking. I quickly find a dirty thermal, and do as I said I would. Edward scoffs. He leans forward kissing my cheek as he sighs and speaks… "I love you." He kisses my cheek once more, the edge of my lip. He licks his, his tongue appearing and making me want to do all a manner of naughty things… "I love you too." "I've missed touching you so much." I breathe in and reply, "I've missed you touching me too." Our lips keep meeting, over and over and it's as though we can't quite keep our hands off of each other. I find myself getting turned on all over again… I take a peek at his crotch and his erection hasn't lessened at all. I want to see it. I want to see his cock and I want to touch it. "Let me," I whisper, my hand making a swift move to cup him before he can even protest. I rub it firmly, knowing that the denim is thick. His breath shudders, all broken and heavy, and I feel so good knowing that he wants it. He licks his lips again. "You don't…" He closes and opens his eyes. "Wait… wait… just…" I keep rubbing him back and forth, my fingers aching to just take him from his clothing. "I want to," I say, my voice almost as husky as his. I surprise myself, I feel sexy, I feel as though I am capable of seducing my boyfriend without worry. "I want to make you feel good too." "Oh God." His head goes back, and as he brings it forward his own hands do the work for me. He shakily unzips his jeans, and its there… his erection is ready and poking up and out of his boxer briefs. I've missed his nakedness. I've craved it. I'm realizing how much our intimacy could mean, and the thought of sex, the thought that touching him like how I know I want to is so imminent it makes me hot. "I just want to feel you." "Here?" he asks. "I can't let you do this here Bella…" "Shh." I kiss his neck. I kiss his jaw. I kiss his mouth. "Forget about where we are," I murmur. I smile and brush my fingers over the head. I get breathy as I reach inside the thin cotton. I take a hold of his length, and the feel of him in my hand is just… ugh. I want to giggle at my own inward thought, instead I bite my lip, and stroke… and I realize that it's a little too much friction. I shyly bring my palm up, covering my mouth protectively as I wet it and re-wrap it around him. I stroke him up and down as his head collapses into the nook of my shoulder. "Fuck." I want to continue his pleasure, and so I coax the lobe of his ear into my mouth, gently sucking as I touch him. He shudders, his hot breath moistening my bare shoulder. I feel his mouth parting, his lips sucking on my skin. The harder I grip, the firmer I pump, the more he sucks, teeth nipping at me as I determinedly caress his cock. "Nearly there?" I whisper. "Y-yea… nearly…" His breathing increases, his mouth releases my skin, his head falls back as his teeth grits. He looks down at my hand pumping his length, and the sight is too much for him. "Baby… so good baby."

His words are so jumbled, and so I know he is close. I stroke up and massage the tip with my thumb, Edward groans out so loudly that it vibrates throughout the room. I breathe in so quick that I feel faint, because he has absolutely no idea just how sexy he is. He moans, grunts, groans, and comes, leaking all over my hand and thighs. "I love you, I love you, I love you so much," he says, his now sweaty face colliding with mine in gratitude. I giggle and kiss his lips. He grins, and as we make out post touching, I can't help but think that our first shot at exploration couldn't have gone any better.

We had decided to have an impromptu shower afterward. Things were oddly light hearted, we were wet and naked together, trying and failing to keep our giggles down as we cooled off under the flow of water. "You look funny in flip flops," I tell him. We look down simultaneously and stare to our feet. He wriggles his toes, and I allow myself to slowly trail my stare upward, his calves, his knees, his thighs… Edward swings his hips playfully, his cock slapping against his skin comically. I let out a small chuckle, my eyes go further up, his hips, his hip bones, his chest… all mine, and I can't quite get over how good of a feeling that is. "Your turn," he says with a poke to my side. I frown. "My turn?" "Wiggle for me." I scoff. "Come on Bella, wiggle for me." "Wiggle?" "Jiggle." I laugh and shove him backwards. "I never asked you to wiggle your man meat Edward." "Man meat?" he makes a face. "So what do we call these then?" he asks, brazenly cupping my breasts. His hands on me, however many times they may have touched me there, was just, almost, too much. I found myself breathing strangely, the thump of my heart distracting me from his words. "Bella?" he calls, removing his hands. "You okay?" I smile and nod—a happy mute. Edward kisses me once before grabbing the shower gel to get fresh. I watch him lather up and wash off, I ogle and stare, and all he does is grin down at me every so often, shyly getting back to work as I try to do the same. "Is this weird?" he suddenly asks. I'm honest in my reply, "Yes, but I'm not complaining." He smiles relieved. "Me neither." A/n: I hope you like the parallel to the first chapter (in terms of lemonage), similar I guess, but not? I have no words for the reviews, just thanks, yea… even to the ones that burn.

The deadline for the Superhero contest has been extended to July 14th midnight… my entry was so tame it was terrible—but hey it's the taking part that counts. Go enter, I'm 100% sure any of you could do better. Go here (minus the spaces): http :/ www. fanfiction. net/community/Superhero_Contest/81828/ and pm them your entry. Mmk. Later. ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### Chapter: 23

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. STAMPEDE OF A THOUSAND PULSES 23. Snippets of the now Shifts, major ones, they reshape everything and leave room for improvement. Timing and whereabouts, changes and events—things that are inevitable but unlikely at first glance all of a sudden progress. Had anyone dared ask me back then, back when things were just too hard and too inconceivable, I would have moped and over analyzed. But things change, and for that I am grateful. She rolls to her side, her long hair falling over her shoulder as she whispers, "Good morning," and it makes me want to sigh aloud. I feel stupid; a good kind of idiocy that makes my stomach flip. This girl makes me feel so silly, so much younger than I am. "Good morning." "I have class today," she tells me. "So I'm going to have to leave you here." I reach forward, pulling her to me. Her face buries into my chest, and although air is humid, her warmth is welcome. "Sucks…wanted a whole day in bed." After a while of silent cuddling, I watch as she shyly gets up, the sight of her ass hidden under my t-shirt is pretty in the dim lighting of her cramped dorm room. She goes away for a shower, returning later only to roll her eyes and call me lazy. I stretch out under her covers, my morning erection going a little limp after missing her. I'm not too desperate to make love, which in theory is unusual. Maybe it's due to us both coming to terms with the fact that things although nice are still weird. For a couple who had been together continuously for six years to have a sudden long term break, it feels jump start-ish to just sink back in. But I can hardly complain, feeling her yesterday left me so high. I smiled so hard walking away from that laundry room, like what we did was so naughty, but in the same breath, so sweet. It was like being a teenager all over again, like taking steps, rediscovering who we were sexually… but this time its equal and its open, and it finally feels solid. "What are we doing later?" I ask curiously—my mind drifts to kissing, rubbing, touching.

She shrugs, stuffing a huge pencil case into her backpack. "Whatever you want." "I wanna do whatever you want." "I'm not fussed." "But I want you to be." "It's no big deal, Edward." "Yes it is." The air falls flat as I shuffle to the end of the single bed. I sit, and stare at her as she stands and stares at me. Bella scoffs, crosses her arms about her chest, and she looks so adorable trying to be stern. "Fine," she says. "You're giving me a manicure and pedicure tonight." I can't exactly say that this is what I would have wanted, but I can't find it in me to deny her, and so I just nod and say, "Okay, manicure it is." "Yup." She flings her bag over her shoulder, walks toward the door. "Later." "Wait, wait, wait!" I know she's smiling. She's half way out the door by the time I grab her from behind. "It's obligatory to kiss the boyfriend before you leave him all on his lonesome." I press myself to her, loving the way I can do so, so freely. "Edward, people can see." I look up momentarily. Processions of girls are walking up and down the hall. I assume that it must be a popular time for classes to start—but my shame is small, and Bella's form is hiding my lower body. I snuggle into her neck. "Then get back in here and kiss me goodbye, baby." We walk backward until I can slam the door shut. She turns in my arms, and pushes my back to the wall. I grin and draw her to me as she tip toes and kisses me softly. "See you later." I keep a hold of her, licking my lips and dipping my head for another kiss. She allows it, our tongues touching and tasting until she pulls back again. "You need to brush your teeth." "You don't like me dirty?" She readjusts her bag and re-opens the door, smiling still at my playful mood. "I'm gonna be late for class." "I'll miss you," I tell her. She kisses my nipple. She bites her lip and hums as she looks at me standing in just my boxers. "You're so sexy," she says aimlessly. Her attention seems to drift as she overlooks me. With a slight huff she speaks, "Clothes are optional by the way." I smirk, knowing that she wants me, loving that she does. "We're having a naked day?" "Oh no, I have this new fascination with dresses and all things girly. Clothes are optional for you."

I watch her TV. I eat what I can find in her mini fridge. I stare at an old note book. I get invasive, but I find nothing private. I flip through it… learn a little about the baroque period, a little about her favorite artist, a lot about the old architecture of western Europe. I flip another page and what I see makes me smile—my name, my name in a heart, our names, our names in a heart. Edward Masen. I look. Isabella Masen. I keep looking. Edward and Isabella Masen. My heart speeds up. "Hey." Bella's back. I snap the notepad shut but it's a little too late, by the time she reaches me it's painfully obvious that I've been snooping through her stuff. She peers over my shoulder. "You're so nosey," she scolds, kissing me there briefly. "Find anything interesting?" I don't know why I do what I'm about to; it just tumbles from my mouth before I even have the time to process it. "You want to marry me?" Her eyebrows shoot up. "You're asking or you're asking?" I swallow, realizing how confusing I sound. "I was looking… I mean… you wrote our names out… Isabella Masen…" I stutter. She looks to the note book, finally understanding. "It was… idle," she murmurs. "I was bored in class and…" My body acts instinctively, my hand stroking her cheek, my lips meeting hers to keep her from feeling as though this is something that scares me. I ease back up and stare at her. "Its fine," I tell her. She nods, blushing slightly. She looks embarrassed. "Really," I insist. "You're not running for the hills?" "I'm through with slippery slopes," I say, eyeing her mouth, wanting to kiss her again. "I love you, but that doesn't mean I want you to rush anything with me." "I know." "We have to take it easier this time around." "I know." "And so, slower is better," she adds. I dive in again and kiss her again, and whisper into our kiss. "I'll marry you someday."

She pulls back. "You don't have to tell me that." "…but I want to." Her smile is heartfelt. "I want to, too." I nod my head back toward her notepad. "I noticed." She punches my chest. I hold her close and think of how lucky I am.

"You suck at this." I ignore her and paint her third toe blue. So far, her toes are pink, red, purple and now, blue. I feel quite accomplished as I stroke the tiny brush against her nail, but as soon as I pull back I realize that I have to squint in order to fuzz out the mess. Bella wiggles her toes and scrunches her nose. "Art is not your forte." I screw her nail polish shut and blow to dry her toes off. "Not all art is precise… what about Impressionism?" I look at her feeling a little more confident. "Abstract?" "Why do all academics make excuses for their shoddiness?" "Why are all creatives so quick to stifle my flow?" "I don't stifle you." "You're doing it now, you putting down my first attempts at painting." She looks down at her messed up nails. "No Edward, I'm just being honest. You suck." "Oh yea?" I shift up from my bended knees, in turn she shuffles back. I hover over her, grinning down at her pretty face. "I suck?" "Are you going to somehow turn that into something dirty?" I bring my mouth to hers, our lips just shy of touching. "Only if you want me to." "That means yes, and I just caught you out…" "So?" She shifts and I feel the tips of her braless chest brush against mine. It feels nice, but I don't want to force anything, I want it to happen naturally. I'm waiting for her to start. "So kiss me." I stare at her, brushing her hair back, just admiring the view. She pouts and repeats herself, "Kiss me." Bending, I press my lips to her forehead. I pull back, raising my eyebrows, knowing that she'll persist for more, and she does. Being this way is my new favorite thing, and it's coming easy. I can do this without thinking, without worrying, without feeling numb afterward.

"No fair," she says. I swoop in and kiss her nose. "Edward…" I kiss the corner of her mouth. She pokes me in the chest. I grin and kiss her finally, her lips so soft against mine. I kiss her as softly as I can. I feel her sigh against me, and so I feel free to do the same. "I love you," I whisper, tasting her, feeling as though I could go on forever Bella pushes back on my chest. Her cheeks puff out, her color a little pink. "Oxygen," she huffs, giggling slightly. "You're so pretty." She sucks in her bottom lip, hiding her bashful smile. "Quit it with the sweet talk." Her eyes stray, I know I'm embarrassing her but I can't help it. I smile, dipping my head to her ear. "Pretty girl." I draw her lobe into my mouth, suddenly feeling sensual, sexual… "I'll always want you," I whisper huskily. She whimpers, her body pushing against mine, my body pressing back into hers. "You're so special." I lick her there, kiss her neck, find my way to her mouth. I don't make it to a kiss, because her eyes are so doe like, and they stop me before I can. "What's wrong?" Bella shakes her head. "Nothing… just…" She smiles gently. "You're special too." It will never stop; the need to hear her tell me I mean something to her. "I'm proud of you… you're so different now." I frown, purse my lips. "Am I?" "You're happy," she tells me. "Did the trip do that?" No… I know why and how and when it all changed. I know that once I let go of all my anger, all my resentment, I stopped being so obsessed with getting high—with filling that cliché void. And what's even more cliché is that it was most definitely me, and not her. The silliness of it all, the way something so trite could hinder one of the most important things to me, hurts still. I roll to rest on my back, my arms a little achy from keeping my weight on her light. I pull her into me. "I think I just needed time to get to know myself. I was so emo you know?" "I think I was too," she adds with a chuckle. "When you're like that it's your moods that control you. I let every emotion I felt stifle me." "So that's it?" I breathe in, curling a strand of her long dark hair around my finger. "No…wanting to know who I was." And then I think harder, and I realize a big truth, something that pushed and blew me into the direction I hankered for, for so long. "And you." She doesn't scoff, but I can tell that her tone is incredulous. "Me?" "I guess I wanted to know if it would change the way I felt about you."

Bella draws figures of eight on my arm, I hold her closer. "There were points I wanted you out of my system." I think of Emmett, how jealous it made me knowing that they were friends, that she had confided in him… "I was so needy for you, desperate… thought that the only way that want might go away was if I used or…" I breathe out. "Fuck I don't know, but it was that intense sometimes." She continues drawing on my skin. "I understand." "You do?" She hums. "I think for the first time I understood." "How?" "That break nearly killed me, nearly…" She gently places her leg over mine. "Age old tale," she sighs, "…it only makes you stronger. It made me realize that even if it hurt, it didn't mean that my life had to stop. When I finally got it, I don't know… I let go." "Of me?" "No." She looks up. "Don't take this badly, but I think I forgave you. If we hadn't broken up, I don't even think I would have realized that I was mad at you." All I do is nod, because I understand. I get that she may have resented me… in a way it was expected. "Thank you," I tell her. She pushes herself up, her lips connecting with mine. "So are you ready for your epic journey?" "Epic journey?" "Of self discovery… find out what you want and stuff." "And stuff?" I chuckle. I smile, somewhat sad at the root the journey had to take, but relieved that it brought me back. "I know that I want to be successful. I know that I want to get older and wiser, and I want a house somewhere I can bring up a family. I want at least two kids, I want a dog, and I want to travel some more with my kids…" I hold her close to me. "With my wife." "There you go with the pseudo marriage proposal again." "I will marry you, Bella." "You will?" Her nose wrinkles cutely. I lean down to kiss her long and hard, her breath catches short, and as I pull back I murmur, "Just say the word; I'll be more than willing to become the Mr. to your Mrs." "You sure?" I think about my father. I think about his advice, his adamancy concerning my becoming a man… 'Don't ever be flighty; it will get you no where.' I realize that the man I want to be wants to go somewhere. At heart I am co-dependant, I know this at least. I know that I need a support system, someone that will be there and love me. And so, who else but her? I've cried and felt sorry for myself. I've wondered and worried about how and when it would all get better… But

being a man is realizing that itnever gets better on its own, that you make it better. You pick yourself up and decide that it has to get better… even if the situation tells you different. "I know that you're it for me. I've made up my mind… my heart made it up for me a long time ago." "You're so corny." "Honesty is corny sometimes," I shrug. "I'll marry you, Edward." I grin and lace my fingers with hers. "When?" "Hm, don't know…" she plays. "When you're a little richer?" "I always knew you were in it for the money." "Oh yea," she scoffs. "Once I knew for sure that you'd pursue becoming a doctor, I was ready and waiting." I notice that we aren't as wrapped up as we could be, so in turn I scoop her up in my arms, placing my lips to the skin below her ear. I know this is a tender spot for her, and so I tease and touch with mouth. I feel her breath, hot and warm… she sighs, gripping my hair between her fingers. I move down, sliding my lips over her neck, feeling her shiver as I kiss every expanse of skin that my mouth finds. Kissing her is nice—doesn't matter—mouth, neck, collar—everywhere is nice. "Edward," she sighs. I keep kissing, along her throat, up her jaw… It progresses—my kisses—to the rise of her breasts—her tank top flimsy and small enough to expose her. Her breathing increases, more rising and falling, nipples push through thin cotton. I brush them, my thumb catching the taut covered tip, and all of a sudden I have an indescribable need to see them. Bella looks down, her eyes meeting mine. She doesn't need any further explanation, her hands pull up the material. I look on and swallow, my heart picks up speed… her body, it does this to me, the look and feel of soft flesh under my finger tips. "You're so beautiful," I say, licking my lips with hunger. And that is how it is, a sudden rush of righteous hunger. I want to love her slow and long. I want to spend hours tasting every inch of her body. She is topless now, her pure skin almost shining under the now dimming daylight. Her neck, shoulders, arms… all pretty, but nothing beats the fullness—the new fullness of her breasts. I grow weak at the sight of them, my cock hardening almost instantly as I imagine them in my mouth… and I want them, I want them all the time. And so I take them. I shift so that I am now kneeling; my legs at either side of her thighs so that I place my hands on my favorite part. I squeeze gently, circling my palm over her pebbled nipples. I feel her rotate beneath my hips, something she always does, and it comforts me oddly — makes me feel less jittery concerning our touching. She whimpers, her body arching to press against mine. She doesn't speak at this point but her skin sizzles, her nipples point, her hips undulate. I drag my mouth down, down, down until I am sucking gently on a peak. I am trying to be careful, not rushing, taking my time to make her sex dampen, make it slick for whatever it is we are about to do. And I don't want to presume. I don't want to think that so far ahead or even deduce the thought of me being inside of her. It may just be my fingers, it may just be my tongue…

"Edward." I keep sucking, licking from one nipple to another, driving her mad and heating her up. I don't mind. I don't mind one bit. All this pleasing is just as pleasing… her tits are so pretty, and the fleshiness is sweet on my tongue. I want more. I want to lick and suck until they grow cripple from delight. And so I do, I take each in my mouth and revere with my tongue until she can not take much more. "I love it when you do this," she tells me, her chest constricting. "Feels so good, so..." She moans out as she eyes my tongue languidly licking her nipple. And I want more, more of this reaction, more of her heated skin. I want to see her combust. I want to see her arrive a million times before I spill my white. It's simple really. It's something I will gladly get used to. I will please her until she tells me she wants different. I owe her this. And it's probably the wrong time to admit it, when she's quivering beneath me. "Bella, I want to make you happy." She bites her lip, tugs at my belt loop. "Mm, you are." "No." I look at her all of a sudden serious. "I want to make sure things are going to be perfect from now on. I—" "Edward, nothing is ever perfect. All I want is you." She circles her hips, my cock reacts before I can think clearly. "You can't get me all worked up and start a serious conversation," she whines. I chuckle, and she does the same. "Just wanted you to know how I'm feeling." Her hand comes up to brush my jaw; I turn toward it, kissing her palm as she smiles softly. "Enough with the apologies." She bites her pillowy bottom lip, a sexed look in her eye. Her hand grabs mine, and she firmly places it over her wetness. "Touch me." I grin. "With pleasure."

My father has invited me to a function, its one of those well to do, pay more than you need to for a plate type things. They say it's selfless, but behind each bid is the name of corporation, a company, a business waiting to flaunt their good will and reputation to the masses. It's bullshit… generous bullshit. An anonymous donation would be in better taste—not this, not women wrapped up in chiffon and silk and tulle like fluff… "Do I look okay?" I take that back. Girls should be wrapped up in fluff, in silk, in chiffon—it suits them. It suits her. I take her hand. "You're beautiful." She snorts. "How very fairytale of you." She's as sarcastic as ever. A small part of it annoying, a bigger part of it sexy. I roll my eyes and haul her into me, my arms lock behind her firmly. "Shut up." She giggles. "Make me. You sound like a pansy." "So what would you prefer? You want me to grunt like a bear?" Her hands tap at my chest. "Maybe." She plays with the buttons of my shirt, fingers tracing the fold of cotton, dipping underneath to touch my skin. "I like bears, they're sexy."

I dip to kiss her. It's sweet until she grips my lapel. She's grown to become quite demanding, it's as though we've pivoted. We keep kissing in our fancy attire, the silky thinness of her dress allowing me to feel her body heat. A throat clears. We stop kissing, our breath a little short as our foreheads rest against one another in reprieve. "The car is here," my father declares. "Hello Mr. Masen." Bella is shy as she drifts from my arms. Her cheeks are pink. It goes nicely with her dark eyes. "Bella," he greets. "You look every bit the socialite." I cringe, but she thanks him anyway. I quickly take her arm, my father stares on, an indescribable look in his eye. "Well I can tell that you're taking good care of him," he suddenly notes. I feel my face heat up, because I think it's obvious to him now that I'm smitten. He knows a little of us, but not the extent of it. I don't want to embarrass her, to make her feel exposed, and so I choose to keep our previous problems quiet. "And you're taking care of the young lady too I presume." "He is," she replies, its sounds bashful, and now, her face is even pinker. "Well," he puffs. "Let's get going." The night is pompous. I look to my side and I can tell she's just as bored. Her eyes are drooping a little; she fights sleep and sips her pissy tasting champagne. "You okay baby?" "That man just spent $1,000 on a bouquet of flowers." "It's for his wife…" "So? $1,000 is a car..." I smile. "So you don't want pretty flowers?" She smiles. "Nope. I'm pretty satisfied." "Yea?" I get close, close enough that we end up kissing again. We do this a lot. Kissing, touching, can't keep our hands to ourselves… It's inappropriate I suppose, but I really don't care. "You're the prettiest girl here," I whisper. Her hand comes to my knee. "You're the sexiest guy here." I kiss her harder just for that. A throat clears. My father is arching a brow, an amused look on his face. We pull apart, and resume to watching on as egos bid for favored charities.

"Oh God."

Her hair splayed out on our pillow. "Edward…" Her eyes are half closed. "Oh fuck." Her mouth half open. "So good…" I lean down, my arms tensing and pulsing as I draw her up, holding her to my chest as our positions change. She sits astride me, her legs on either side of my thighs as we realign and I enter her deeper. I kiss her, our foreheads press together, and we pant breathlessly together. It is good… so fucking good. Better than before, like now we get it, like now sex is more than sex. I'm greedy but gracious. I'm turned on but tuned in. It's the highest high now, now until she takes me even higher. I thrust forward and look down to see myself disappearing, reappearing. Its ecstasy. "I love you," I declare. "I love… you," she affirms. We keep going, and going and I can feel myself coming. I can feel the build up burning in my chest. I'm so euphoric and elevated that I squeeze her closer, our bodies melting against one another as her nipples tease and touch my own, enticing me further. We breathe heavily into each other's ears. Its too much—all of it—sensory overload in the most blissful of forms. I slip a hand between us, and she ease back from me, witnessing my thumb as I begin to rub her very wet clit. "Yes," she hisses. I caress it earnestly, feeling her sex contracting and fluttering around my cock, clamping down so hard it makes me choke out a battered, "Fuck." It erupts and gushes into her with abandon, my body relaxes and slumps. I keep rubbing her, thumb and finger tips, and for added enjoyment I flick and pinch. She purposely moves the tips of her breasts against my chest, her orgasm hitting her like a bolt of lightening as I feel her insides grab me so franticly. I thrust in and out of her, each causing her to tighten her grip, her face red hot and blotchy. She relaxes and kisses my shoulder. "Wow." I brush her sweaty hair to one side, curious to find something out. "…Was that okay?" "Amazing," she murmurs. Her eyes meet mine after a few seconds of down time. "Let's do it again." We giggle together, we snuggle and kiss some more. We whisper loving words and touch and fondle. We fall asleep and wake up, and repeat…. and there's no guilt, no desperation—just love—just us.

A/n: There you go for those you begging for sexy time. I think one more chapter to go…and then an epilogue… the angst is officially over. I have started a new story, which is dark but a different type of dark (fantasy/mystery/horror?)… I even had the help of a beta (quotheme), and now that I've mentioned her name you should know that it won't be shitty… or at least I don't think so. It's called Grave Intentions. Summary: An odious fixation seethes beneath a make believe alliance. When Edward dies, he leaves Bella to stew and regret. But his presence has yet to depart. He haunts, causing her not only to remember their shared hate, but also their passionate devotion. It's pretty weird. I suck at selling myself. But go read it if you have the time. ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### Chapter: 24

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. STAMPEDE OF A THOUSAND PULSES 24. Still Dr. Cullen is talking to my father. It's nerve wracking. I stand against the wall of the new extension of our hallway looking on. "Hey. I was looking everywhere for you." Bella hands me her glass. "Try it. I had the caterer blend me a smoothie." I take a huge gulp; it's sharp and razes the taste buds on my tongue. "Ugh, that's sour as shit." "Why are you hiding anyway?" I sigh and point timidly. "Oh. I wouldn't worry…" I give a look of incredulity. "Don't tell me you don't notice how different he treats you." Scoffing, I sip at the tart juice. My tongue hangs from my mouth in tangy shock. "Gimmie that." Bella rolls her eyes. "Teachers pet." She walks off with a swish to her hips. I watch on with a smirk—I quite like the way she sasses me—gives me something to play with once we are alone. Jasper is seated in a corner. I'm thinking that him being here isn't so much of a great idea—but he had insisted and

said that he'd lend me his support. It's been a long while since I've been the center of attention. I'm bashful and weirdly coy. He has a strained look on his face, of late he's been contemplative. He's been worried about the future and how his depression may creep back in. I can understand. I get my days. I'll be happy when she's around, but points come—I'll wake up from a long sleep and the thought of being diligent is exhausting. "You look bored." "Dude, I am. No offence, but your father's crowd are prissy." Jasper is a free person. He doesn't do suits or formalities. He complains about the canapés, "Why the hell are these things so small?" and eats four at once. "Did you get your chance to talk to Alice?" "No." He puffs out his cheeks, rocks back on his feet. His stomach is bloated, it's been looking podgy of late—Alice's cooking the culprit. "Quit eyeing my belly fat." I snort. "I need to go jogging." "Alice isn't complaining…" "Alice never complains." "Are you nervous?" He looks to me. "Fuck yes." I slap one hand to his shoulder. "You'll be alright." "I fucking hope so." Suddenly, pair of arms embrace me. I feel her breath on my neck. I resist the urge to sigh contently—Jasper would never let up on that. "Mind if I borrow him for a moment?" He smirks and gestures away. "Please." Bella grabs my hands, both in tandem and twists so that she can pull me along. "Where are you taking me?" Her long hair hides her face; she turns and speaks, "We're paying a visit to your old room." I purse my lips in glee as my mind travels to the smuttiest place. Of late, since our reunion, our meetings have been scheduled. Bella had been offered a placement at an independent gallery, her work invading our time together. The weekend was usually ours, and today was Sunday. Once we reach the staircase she releases my hands. I find it hard not to grab her ass as she walks ahead of me—her skirt is long and pencil like, makes her figure look like a coke bottle. My dick is hardening. Thinking about taking her slowly whilst all these people are downstairs is sending dizzy signals to my brain. The guilt that came with sex is lifting. I'd stop myself from indulging. I was her service man… still am, but her mouth is leaning me once more, leisurely. I let her give me head last night. I talked dirty and she liked it. I don't think I've ever come so quickly… it was… embarrassing. Being here is weird. I look around the dull gray of my room and reminisce. The bed is neatly made and the carpets

clean. It's a ghost town of my former self. Empty and obsolete. "I used to love coming up here," she says. "Yea?" I take a seat at the edge of the bed. "Yea," she says, placing herself in my lap. "I loved your bed. I used to pretend that it was ours when I fell asleep here." I smile and nuzzle her breasts, my nose deep in her cleavage. I hum, gently squeezing her soft flesh. "I didn't bring you up here for that." I lick my lips. "No?" She's looking at me with darker than usual eyes. "No." "You won't have to do anything, just lay back." I rub her stomach, fishing my hand underneath the silk of her top. "Let me," I whisper, rubbing lower. My touches are seemingly null and void. Bella talks as if I am non-affective. "Do you remember the night of senior prom? When we skipped it and you sneaked me out to come and spend the night here?" I cease movement and cringe. I remember bits and pieces. Fuzzy. I swallow and rest my errant hand on her thigh. I kiss the crook of her neck, soft and slow as if apologizing—and I am. "Not much." She hums in understanding. Her hand is at the base of my neck. She strokes the tail of hair there—she's been asking me grow it out. She likes it messy; she likes the way it automatically stands on end like bed head. And I'll do anything to please her. I want to be attractive for her. I want her to be weak at the sight of me. I rub my stubble on her skin and she sighs. "Our first time." "I was out of it," I confess. "I know," she replies. "I knew… I still let it happen though." "If I could take that night back… I would. It should have been different." I think she feels the same. I think she wishes it was more romantic. All I can recall is the moment I came, shuddering at the tight pinch of her muscles, the contract of them around my cock. Nothing compared—the physical for me was so intense but my brain was on lay away. "You went down on me twice," she says. Her abrupt giggle catches me off guard. "You couldn't remember doing it the first time. I was pushing your head away and you kept groaning about me being wet enough." "Shit," I mutter. "I was that gone?" "Everything was so on edge that by the time you tried to get inside me I was just too tense." I know she's not speaking about this to goad me. We have our moments when we're honest, not looking back in anger, rather in bemusement. I want to say something. Apologize. But it's so not enough… "Why did you let me do that?" "The way you looked at me. I was butter, Edward. I wanted it." It pains me to hear it. I distract myself. I look to the clock on the wall. "Should we go back down?"

She shakes her head. "No. I want to stay here for a while. I want to remember." "Why?" "Because it's so brand new now." "That's a bad thing?" "Of course not, but I like knowing who we were—means so much more now that we're not those people anymore." "You're being thankful?" I ask. "I'm always that, especially now." I look up at her, a slow smile as I wonder how in hell we ended up here. "You're beautiful you know… where it counts… all over." I put my fingers over her heart. It's trite, but sincere. "You ended up absorbing everything around you—took on all my problems because you cared so much." "That's not beautiful. That's stupid," she grins. I smile. "Love is stupid." I don't know what it is. I think it's the falling in love part, the being in love part, the way it intensifies to a still flame. I'm getting comfy with her in way that makes me happy. I see her and feel warm. I can balance if I'm with her. Its dependant, I know—but I feel stronger with, than without. I kiss Bella on the mouth, my tongue sliding against hers as I think all a manner of sexual thoughts. It's a strange equilibrium. I feel nice whilst doing intimate things. She makes it that way. -o"As I'm sure you all know, these past few years have been eventful. Whilst things haven't been easy—they've been definitely been enlightening. Now I'm not much of a partier, but seeing my son in such a light—it was hard not to want to call this gathering…" My father looks poignantly toward me. "Edward, no ones as proud as I am." People raise glasses, I flush in color as I realize this is all too weird… all too good for someone as tired as me. I look around the room, people I don't care for, people that make up numbers and cover ground. But they're here. Bella, Dad, Jasper, Alice. New found love and new found friends. It all good.

We're back at our apartment. Jasper and Alice are hovering over a shivering Kate. She's a mess. Hair tangled and clothes unwashed. She rocks back and forth, sobs and snivels. Bella clutches my hand in hers; her eyes come up to meet mine. "Comfort," she whispers. "She needs it." I swallow. I want to be a good friend, but Kate is needy. Looking at Bella I sigh. I think she feels for her—I think she sees a huge chunk of me in Kate. And that's when I feel bad, like a complete ass for being so distant. Bella rubs my arm and we walk toward the couch. "Hey Katie," I say. Her green eyes shimmer up at me, her mouth quivers. "Edward." She looks at me—pleading eyes. I look to Bella, Is this okay? She reads me and nods once. I crouch down in front of her.

"It's gonna be okay," I tell her. Lunging forward, she hugs me fiercely. Her tears soak my shirt. "Can I spend the night here?" Jasper shrugs and waits for me to answer. "If you're cool with the couch…" "I'm cool," she murmurs, still looking to me. It's awkward but I don't want to make her feel bad. Kate has yet to realize that Bella is here. "Can you stay with me?" A part of me is regretting the kindness. I knew that she'd want this, a night of movies and popcorn and heads lying on shoulders. "Please?" I sigh, because it's the weekend—our weekend. I was looking forward to lazing in bed with my girl but… "We can all stay up and order a few pay per views." Thank God for Alice. Kate's brows furrow. "Cool." She looks hesitant, and then she turns—her face flushes. "Oh, I didn't even realize…" Bella shrugs it off. "No worries." Her smile is soft. "You need your friends." Kate smiles. "Thanks." "You're staying too right?" Alice asks. "Yea, she's staying," I reply, admiring the curve of her waist. Her body is a distraction, her face… her. "Right, baby?" Bella gives me a lingering smile. "Right." We all laze about. Alice has a fascination with Ikea. She had brought home several bean bag chairs. Our apartment looks like the typical student den, mismatched and somewhat current. I sit in one, Bella in another. Every now and then the rustle of the tiny beans can be heard. It's me pulling her closer, our bean bags slopping into one as I do so. We are at an angle to the side of the couch where Kate lays with a bowl of popcorn on her stomach. When I think no one is watching I brush my nose against Bella's ear and sigh. She takes my knuckles and kisses them. I'm a mixture of affection and annoyance. This is our time, yet I'm here stealing precious moments. There are sporadic instances of me being selfish. I want, want, want, and I want it now. But Bella doesn't like that—at least I think she doesn't, who would? And so I practise tolerance. I keep my touches appropriate and daydream about kissing her manically once we get in my room. "You okay?" she asks quietly. Someone on screen is getting chased by a vampire, I hear Kate scoff and crunch more corn. I realize that I am tapping my foot against Bella's impatiently. There's no point is covering up now and so I whisper back a whiney reply of, "No." She smiles with a closed mouth and strokes my cheek affectionately. Her eyes cast over the others. She makes sure no one is listening. "I really want to kiss you," she confesses. I sigh in agreement. "I really want to kiss you," I whisper back.

Her hand places itself on my chest as she pushes up so that her mouth is at my ear. "I love you so much my heart bursts at the thought of you kissing me." God, she's sweet. Any other girl would have been mischievous. Any other girl would have grabbed my dick and teased me. But not her. She settles me and makes my heart jump—I can have innocence and sweetness because she gives it so willingly. Bella eases back down, her lips sucked in as I breathe in and out thinking of something just as pretty to say back. I kiss her hair and close my eyes. Be sweet back, she deserves it. It doesn't come. I sit there watching vampires and holding her so close to my chest that I begin to sweat.

It's been 9 months. I'm the type of guy that steals quiet moments to smoke because I know my girlfriend dislikes it. I bring her small gifts, her favourite body lotion, candy, flowers, and once…lingerie. It was pretty but modest, like her. She looked good in black lace—she questioned me when I had bought a panty that was mismatched. "Any reason why this is a totally different color" I smiled goofily explaining my odd fancy for mismatched underwear on her. "You look cute," I revealed… and hot. I kiss her when she least expects it. On a train ride opposite a pair of old ladies, in the middle of a random conversation, straight away and hastily as she steps through my apartment door… Right now, I'm eyeing her as she feels up a mango, checking to see if it is ripe. She looks so determined to find one that her lips pout up and her eyebrows furrow. I swoop in grabbing her chin and kiss her hotly. She giggles against my lips and swats my chest as I pull back. Her face is pink. She tosses two mangos into her basket and looks around embarrassed. "Sorry," I say, not sorry at all. Bella rolls her eyes. "You do realize that you're grinning." I grin harder. "Yea. I do that a lot now." She turns from me toward the dairy isle. "I noticed." We hover around the supermarket picking up odds and ends, both of our baskets are somewhat full and I'm bored stiff. Bella darts about purposefully avoiding my antics as I try to whisper things in her ear. She picks up a bottle of bleach and threatens to wash my mouth out. It spurs me on. I grab her hand and pull her toward the pet isle. I browse over cat food, forcing her to do the same. Looking to the packaging of a bag of cat nip, I speak in mischief. "What a pretty little pussy." "I wonder where this is going," she retorts. "Exactly where you think." I wink. "I'm a sucker for a pretty pussy." Bella looks at me as she would a child. "Really, Edward?" "Aw come on. Play along, baby."

"Fine." She purses her lips and squints. "Let's go find some sausage. I'm sure there are more innuendos waiting for you there." "I'll stick to pussies, thanks." She scoffs, smiling at my stupidity. We stare at one another in the usual way we do, its all eyes and smiles until her brows furrow over. "What's wrong?" I ask, turning backward. I find the answer to my question as I eye the familiar face walking cautiously toward us. "Edward Masen? Is that you?" My name sounds notorious on her tongue. Jessica Stanley is slimmer, taller, and her once shoulder length hair is cascaded carefully over her right shoulder. "Shit it is," she notes. "How are you?" "Good," I quickly fire. I grab Bella's hand. It takes all but a second for Jessica's eyes to dart down and back up. "Bella? You two are still together?" The way she asks this offends me. "We're engaged," I blurt out. I don't even realize what I'm saying. It tumbles from my mouth nervously as I feel Bella squeeze my hand in question. "You are?" Jessica piques. Her eyes dart to Bella's left hand, but it is hidden under the long sleeve of the shirt she wears. "Wow. Who would have thought?" I get agitated. Jessica hasn't changed. She's still a stirrer. Still waiting for something to distract her from her own problems. I can bet she had wished that Bella would have ended up less happy—anything in hope of showing off her own achievements. For a moment I forget about what I had said. Bella is silent, her mouth wired shut as Jessica inspects us intrusively. "So when's the big day?" "We're waiting until we graduate," I lie. "That's sensible." I hum, feeling stupid. "And how are you?" Bella suddenly asks. "Oh good you know? I'm on a fashion internship with a really good house. I get to go to all these amazing shows, I mean its pretty pretentious but so beautiful at the same time you know? And well…I get free stuff." She glows at this point. "And the male models… let me tell you." Please don't. "Anyway it was nice bumping into you both." She smiles. "Good to see you made it through and stuff." She smiles again. "Hope it all works out." Another smile, and finally a retreat. Bella takes her hand away from mine, placing it on her hip. "Engaged huh?" I grimace. I can't exactly explain myself. "I don't know why I said that." "What were you trying to prove?" I shrug, I feel stupid, but it's Bella so I feel free. "I don't like her, never did."

Bella walks away knowing I'll follow. She heads toward the checkout and gets in line. "Sorry," I say earnestly. I let my insecurity push me into foolishness—I feel dumb. "Mmhm." She turns, eyes smiling as they meet mine. "What a pretty pussy you are," she sing songs. She's funny when she wants to be.

We lay side by side in my bed. We've just got in, both our bodies tired from a double date with a chatty Alice and Jasper. Her cell phone buzzes, she reads her received text and sighs. "Emmett," she tells me. I turn to face her, trying not to look jealous. "What he say?" "Just wanted to know how I was," she replies. "He's dating a new girl," she adds softly, finger tips ghosting over my chest. "Good," I whisper, slightly bitter. "It's a shame you two don't get on anymore…" She eyes me as I retain a huff. "Let's cuddle," I divert. "I just want to sleep now." Stifling a yawn she nods and snuggles into my body. "You know the best feeling in the world?" Her voice is lazy, "When you start to fall asleep, knowing it will be peaceful and long and perfect. I love that feeling." I smile because she makes me. "Agreed," I murmur. As I hold her I feel content... I may still be scared of responsibility—I cringe at the thought of being tied to a desk, working full ungodly hours and being stressed. I know its coming. I know at some point my life will make me tired. But I also know she'll be there. I know that the heart that beats so earnestly for her will continue to do so. I know that every time she kisses me it will pulse, fast, steady, slow—doesn't matter. It beats for her. Stampedes sometimes. She makes me want to be better. I am better. We are. And it can only get better as time goes by… I'm sure of it. Fin. An epilogue will be posted, so keep it on alert if you wanna see these two a little further on in life. For all your comments, I'll thank you. Um, as for personal questions… if I don't answer, don't take it to heart. Talking about drugs/bipolar crap is meh. I may just be being an ass that day… that would probably explain my ass-y depressing chapters. Go read my new story, it's got a beta and is tons better. I think. Laters.