Little Green & Easybella

Little Green and Easybella 32

2012-08-09T16:29:00.000-07:00

(BELLA)

When we enter the building, he hesitates for a moment at the door to my apartment, watching where I'm heading. I like Edward's three-quarter bed much better than the remaining half of my ex-marital double bed, so I take his hand and pull him towards the stairs. He follows all too willingly, and when I look back over my shoulder, I am rewarded with the sexiest smile. Looks like he prefers his own bed, too.

"Lead the way." I let go of him and step aside to allow him to pass.

He stops dead in his tracks and looks at me as though I just said the most ridiculous thing. "No."

What the…?

"You're the one with the keys," I try to reason with him. "You should go first." I briefly consider telling him that I'm also looking forward to watching his delectable behind ascend the stairs, but I don't get the chance.

"I can't go first," he declares firmly, again with that are-you-kidding-me look on his face.

"You can't?"

He shakes his head no.

Oh... of course!

I smirk at him. "You just want to ogle my badonkadong on the way up, don't you?"

"Badonka...?"

"My butt."

"Oh... no. I mean, yes… but that's not… no."

I'm confused. And kind of disappointed. No?

"It's just not the way this is done," he says cryptically.

"This? Okay, I'm at a loss. What isn't done this way, and why can't you go first?"

And what, for crying out loud, is wrong with my butt?

"I'm supposed to walk behind you, so I can catch you in case you trip. The woman always goes first," he says matter-of-factly. He sounds a little taken aback, too. Probably because he's wondering how it is even possible that I don't know about "the way this is done".

"That's very… chivalrous of you," I reply, bemused. "I guess I'll go first then."

"Yes, please." He motions for me to move on, and I obediently turn on my heels and start climbing the stairs, Little Green in trail.

We take the two flights in silence, and it's not before we reach the second landing that he passes, keys in hand. He holds the door open for me and I walk inside. I hear the door click shut; the keys tinkle and then stop tinkling. Edward steps up to me from behind to help me off with my coat.

As I shrug out of it, I can't help but admit to myself how much I like his good manners. Why didn't I notice them earlier? Come to think of it, he's actually been like that all the time, helping me in and out of the car, opening doors, holding the chair for me and now, well… climbing the staircase behind me.

"Bella?" I turn around to find my gallant boyfriend look at me sheepishly. He scratches the back of his head and says, "I totally ogled your badong... behind, just so you know."

I want to do a fistpump at his confession, but I do my utmost to keep a straight face. "And did you like it?"

He beams at me. "A lot!"

And there he stands, fidgeting and messing with his hair. I watch him alternately frown and smile for a few seconds, then I can't take it any longer. "What's wrong?"

He shakes his head. "It's so strange sometimes now, with all the talking, you know. Like right now... I want to touch you. Easy, you know, like we used to do."

"Yes?" I wonder where this is going. He seems so insecure all of a sudden, almost scared. "What's keeping you from it?"

"I don't know. I feel I have to put everything in words these days, like I should have asked whether you even want me to make love to you. I feel like I'm assuming too much, even with you. As if you're supposed to know what I want, but you don't, and the other way round. It's like nothing really works anymore without talking."

"What do you mean?" I ask, tentatively walking over to him. "Of course, I want you to make love to me."

Edward casts his eyes down and smiles. "That's good to know," he says. He still has those long lashes I always admired when we were kids; he looks breathtaking. Without taking his eyes off of the floor, he reaches for my hips as soon as I'm within his reach. "I don't know why I felt funny about it; I just wasn't sure what you want, so I was wondering..."

"And then you got shy?"

"Yes, kind of. And I don't want that. But I started thinking, and suddenly I didn't know how to proceed from here. All those thoughts got in my way, and I couldn't move past them. Like it wasn't safe to just... touch you. Like I needed to figure out if you want it too, before I do anything."

He is still talking to his shoes, and I don't know whether to laugh or to worry about his sudden sentiment. It seems my usually so unabashed boyfriend is having an awkward moment due to the fact that he took me home to have sex with me, but we're still standing in the hallway and the 101 of seduction completely eludes him. Or something like that. What the...?

"Edward, please look at me."

He lifts his head, and when his eyes meet mine, they are full of expectation. I put my arms around his waist and pull him close. When our hips meet, everything feels soft down there, so... okay, now I'm worried.

"Are you afraid that I'd reject you?"

"Not really," he says with a shrug. "I know you won't, but still..."

"You're right, I won't. I will always want you, Edward. Your touch, and your love."

He closes his eyes and leans his forehead against mine. "Bella..." he sighs.

"You're thinking too much, Edward."

I feel him nod his head yes. "I know, right? This is just not us."

"Maybe not. But we both have changed, as did the circumstances, and maybe we cannot always just know what the other one wants. That's perfectly normal, I think. You know, not many people get each other without words like we do anyway."

"Oh, I'm aware of that, trust me."

"Of course you are. Also, talking is a good thing; it's what people do all the time. It's kind of helpful, you know?"

He snickers, and my heart swells with love for him.

"So if you feel like you need to talk to me, or you want to ask me anything, just do it. Never be shy with me, okay?"

He tilts his head back and flashes me a brilliant smile. "Okay."

"Good," I say, smiling back at him. "Now that we've established that I really want you to make love to me, what do you want?"

"I want to make love to you, too. You know that," he whispers.

I lean into him, brushing my lips against his ear. "No. Tell me what you want." I take his earlobe between my teeth, nibbling gently. "What do you want to do to me? What's next? Or is there anything you want me to do right now? Tell me, please..."

His hands have wandered from my hips down to my behind. With a groan, he pulls me even closer and, ah yes... now we're talking! I love the feel of his erection pressing into me through his pants.

"Words can be nice, right? Even if they're not necessary," I coo, licking the sensitive dent behind his ear. "I have an idea what you want, but maybe I want to hear it anyway. Can you do that for me? Can you tell me what you want?"

"Bella…" he moans.

"Please, tell me."

"Anything I want?" He definitely looks intrigued now.

"Anything," I confirm without hesitation.

I trust him completely; he would never ask anything I'm not comfortable with. Or maybe it's the other way round – I just cannot imagine anything I wouldn't like being intimate with Little Green.

I have no idea where this is going, but I'm in an experimental mood. Being with Edward somehow always seems to bring out this bold side I never even knew I had in me. His undiluted love and desire for me makes me feel sexy and playful; I enjoy every second of it.

And he seems inclined to play along. His breathing gets a little labored; he likes this. And I like that he likes it. Very much! I can hardly keep myself from jumping him. Grinding my hips against him, just a little to spur him on, I say, "I'm listening."

He licks his lips and swallows. That familiar crease appears between his brows, as if he needs to think about it for a moment, while his thumbs are nervously drawing small circles on my butt cheeks.

"Okay," he starts hesitantly. "I think I would like for you to..."

"Yes?"

Our faces are so close that our noses almost touch, and I don't know if it is his breath washing over me or the sound of his velvet voice what makes me a little dizzy, as he asks softly, "Would you undress for me? While I watch?"

Sweet baby Jesus, give me strength!

And here I thought, the seducing part was mine. I blink a few times and take a deep breath to compose myself. Then I answer firmly, "Of course I would, if you told me to."

"Oh no, I didn't mean… that would be like ordering you around" he objects, taken aback.

"Yes," I say. "But that's the point, isn't it?" I can't help but grin mischievously.

His green eyes widen. "Bella?"

"Maybe I like it. Maybe you'd like it. Who knows?"

He gasps. "Fuck!"

Exactly!

I wiggle out of his arms and take a few, deliberately slow steps backward. Crossing my arms in front of me, a grab the hem of my tee, lifting it just an inch. Then I stop and wait.

The seconds tick by. Little Green stands perfectly still, except for the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathes noisily through parted lips. His eyes are glued to my hands. After what seems like an eternity, he finally looks up and shakes his head, smiling wryly.

"Bella, I don't think this…"

"What?" I laugh.

"… is right."

"Come on!" I lift my tee a little further, teasing him.

He giggles, "I cannot…"

"Say it!"

"Can't we just…"

"Out loud!"

"… fuck… Bella, why can't we…"

"Yes?"

We stare at each other, grinning like idiots. Apparently, neither of us can be serious for shit. So much for my first attempt at a bit of role-play. Our acting skills truly suck; this is ridiculous. With an awkward laugh, I let go of my tee. I'm about to leave it be, when Edward suddenly squints his eyes at me and whispers, "Wait."

His smile disappears like a light being switched off, and his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows noisily. He walks backward, putting more distance between us, until he leans against the wall behind him. He tilts his head back, looking at me from under half closed lids.

His lips part.

I hold my breath.

"Strip!" he says.

Oh my God, did he just…?

Oh my God!

In a split second, I feel like someone poured hot liquids over me; I'm sure my face is turning the deepest pink ever. I'm surprised, albeit in a good way, and terribly aroused, but fuck… now that he said it, I'm the one feeling shy all of a sudden! What now? How do I do it?

Slowly, right? Yes, slowly. And sensual. Or something along those lines. Ah, screw it! Here we go…

I lift my tee shirt in slow motion, inch by inch. I wish I had put on nicer undies, but well, Little Green and I were occupied otherwise this morning, and there was no time left to go to my place and change. Some music would probably be really helpful, too, come to think of it. I try to think of a sexy song to play in my mind, but I go completely blank. All that is there is the throbbing of my heart I can feel literally everywhere, head to toe, and the heat that makes my skin tingle.

When I have rolled the fabric up under my breasts, I stop and turn away from him, swaying my hips a little in the process, before I pull the tee over my head and toss it aside. It would probably all look much more convincing if I wore heels, but I try not to feel too silly tippy-toeing on the spot in my sneakers. I make a mental note to not neglect proper preparation next time, as I reach behind myself to unclasp my not-so-spectacular bra.

However, one (hopefully seductive) glance over my shoulder is all it takes to put an end to my self-deprecation. Not only is Edward still watching me intently from under heavy lids, I also catch him palming himself over the fly of his jeans. The sight of him is incredibly sexy and such a boost to my confidence that I'm unable to contain a wide grin. I turn my head just in time to hide it from him.

Oh this man! I could probably wear a potato sack, and he would still look at me as if I were Dita von Teese doing a pole dance in a Victoria's Secret ad. He likes what I'm doing. He likes it so much that he had to touch himself while he watched me. I wiggle my butt with renewed enthusiasm, really starting to enjoy myself. The only music I need is the sound of Edward's heavy breathing behind me to keep me going.

I shrug out of the bra straps, one at a time, and turn around, holding the cups in place with my hands. Edward is unbuttoning his shirt, which knocks me off my stride for a second. I involuntary lick my lips when his happy trail comes in sight. Again I fight the urge to smile, but not to much avail – he catches it. One corner of his mouth curls up for the briefest moment, then he furrows his brows, composing himself.

With an earnest expression on his face, he nods his chin towards my bra like a boss. "Take it off!" he commands, but then falters, "I want to see your…"

Breasts? Boobs? Girls? I raise my brows.

His forehead knits together even more. He clears his throat in a not so bossy manner before he finally and stoutly blurts, "Tits!"

The moment the word is spoken, I drop the offending piece of fabric, and when the bra hits the floor, I kick it aside. Edward's shoulders slump forward as if in defeat and he exhales a shuddering breath.

"God, you're beautiful," he sighs, totally falling out of character for a moment.

Seeing the almost desperate look on his face, I can hardly keep myself from walking over and put him (and myself!) out of this misery – as in, you know, throwing myself at him, nuzzling his happy trail, ripping his pants off of him… something like that. My nipples were already hard before the bra came off, but I swear they rise to the occasion even more now. Fuck, if he doesn't make me feel like the hottest woman on earth…

But I am on a mission here, hell-bent to finish what I started. So I bravely reach for the button of my jeans and flick it open. Immediately, Edward straightens his shoulders and quickly shrugs out of his shirt. There's no more going slow now. With as much grace as I can muster, I toe out of my chucks, glad for once that they are so well-worn I don't even have to untie the laces.

Edward does the same, mirroring my actions. His belt comes loose next, and I die a little inside when I see him mouth 'I love you'. I manage to mouth back 'Same', as we both pull down our zippers. And then I die a little more at the sight of his huge erection, straining against his boxer briefs, which cannot even hold the whole package – the tip of his cock is peeking out from under the waistband, already glistening with pre-cum.

I'm pretty wet myself at this point; I can smell my own arousal. I hurry to push my jeans down my thighs, not worrying about the possible non-sexiness of my panties, because they are still lost somewhere in Edward's bedroom. So, I'm not wearing any. Did I mention it was too late for changing this morning?

I merely have time to straighten myself and step out of the jeans pooling around my ankles when Edward crashes into me like a freight train. Under the onslaught of his passionate attack, I bump into the wall behind me with a squeak. And then there's only Edward, nothing but him… everywhere on me… nothing else but this man and his desire for me.

His lips on mine, his tongue not asking for entrance but invading my mouth. His breath comes in short puffs through flared nostrils, hot on my face. His hands are tangling in my hair first, but soon turn into a tight grip on the back of my head, bending and shaping me to his liking as he deepens the kiss and releases a rumbling groan.

I almost faint at the sound; it's the most erotic thing I ever heard. My stomach is putty, as are my knees, but he has shoved one leg between my thighs, effectively keeping me from weakly sliding down. That wouldn't be possible anyway, as tightly as I am trapped between his body and the wall. Chest, belly, hips flush with mine... Edward everywhere, grinding into me. You couldn't put a hair between us if you tried.

My moan is embarrassingly loud as I rub my throbbing clit against his thigh between my legs. With one hand still on the nape of my neck, he uses the other to cup one of my butt cheeks, squeezing it almost painfully, and pulls me even closer, increasing the friction. And fuck yes… his hard cock is pressing into my belly next to my hip-bone, driving me crazy with lust.

He breaks the kiss and we both gasp for air like free divers who made it to the surface at the very last second. In a brief moment of clarity, and with a strength I didn't know I possess, I push and squirm until I have successfully turned us around and he is the one with his back against the wall. Then I take a step back, holding my hand out, palm towards him to make him stay put.

He looks really tortured now. "Bella, please…" he pants.

"Condoms," I manage to rasp, still holding my hand up. After two more steps backward, and not taking my eyes off of his, I fumble blindly inside my purse on the small dresser behind me. I find a condom, feeling the familiar, doughnut-shaped tin foil between my fingers, and breathe a sigh of relief.

Kneeling in front of my gorgeous man, I rip the thing open like a pro while Edward eagerly shoves down his jeans and boxers in one go, if only to mid-thigh. I giggle when his cock comes free like a jack-in-a-box, almost slapping me in the face. I grab it at the base, eliciting another deep groan on Edward's behalf, and sheath him in one swift move. I've really become quite expert rolling those things on. I wished we didn't have to use them though; I seriously need to get on the pill or something.

"There you go," I murmur absentmindedly, noticing that we still have to get Edward's pants all the way down. But I don't get a chance to attend to the problem. Apparently, my mumbled sentiment was the last cue he waited for. Before I know it, I am pulled to my feet and twirled around. My shoulder blades hit the wall once more, and my lucid moment ends in another searing kiss. Oh, he's done teasing and being teased in earnest now, and I give myself over to his frantic caresses all too willingly.

Bending his knees, he assaults every inch of my skin that he can get a hold of; kissing, licking and nibbling… neck, shoulders, chest, breasts, and finally sucking at my achingly hard nipples. I'm dripping wet and tingling all over; in a sensual frenzy, I let him take control. He is a force against which I have no defense anyway, when he is like this, and I wouldn't want it any other way.

Before Little Green, I had no idea it could be like this. And now I can't get enough. I close my eyes and let him have his way with me. I know, my back and shoulders, among other parts of my anatomy, will most likely be pretty sore later, but I don't care. I want this; I want him so much. I want him to fuck me!

"Fuck me!"

Jesus, did I just say that? Aloud?

"God, yes…!" he cries out.

Yep, I did say it!

He grabs my ass and lifts me off the floor. The insides of my knees scratch along some rough fabric, giving me a slight 'denim burn' of sorts and reminding me that Edward's jeans are still hanging around his thighs. The thought of how he was too eager to take them off somehow turns me on even more. And then there's only one thought left, repeating itself in my mind like a mantra.

Oh God, he's going to fuck me against this wall... oh God...

And that's exactly what he's doing.

"Your legs – put them around me!" he orders in a surprisingly dominating tone, and I hurry to do as I'm told. He briefly adjusts my weight with his hands under my butt, and then he enters me in one forceful thrust, making my spine scrape upwards on the woodchip wallpaper.

We both cry out in unison, overwhelmed by the initial sensation of being united like this. He stills, just holding me, and I revel in this first moment of being filled and stretched by his gorgeous cock. It stings a little; my girly parts weren't quite ready to be taken like this, but the pleasure is so much stronger than that. My spine, too, will probably have a lot to complain about, once we're done. But for now, I couldn't care less.

This is so good, so good… God, I love him so much!

His forehead leans against mine; we're panting into each other's mouth. His eyes are closed, and there's that deep crease between his brows, as if he needs to concentrate realyl hard – which he probably does.

He is so, so beautiful.

"I love you, Edward," I whisper between pants.

His eyes fly open. "Are… are you okay? Because I don't think I… I cannot wait, Bella, I just can't."

"Do it," I say. "Fuck me."

He buries his face in the crook of my neck, and with a loud moan, he starts moving. There's no slow build; he does what I asked him to do – he fucks me, hard and quick. This won't last long; I know he cannot hold it in. But I don't mind. Feeling him inside me is insanely good, and I love my man like this, unbound and fueled by his desire for me and only me.

I reach down between us to rub against myself. Edward shows his appreciation with a loud, "Fuck, Bella!", but doesn't falter in his frantic movements. When I feel his cock grow even bigger inside of me, I know that he's almost there, just like me.

There's a clattering noise coming from somewhere to the left of me. I turn my head and mesmerized, I watch a picture frame bouncing off the wall with each of Edward's hard thrusts.

He is getting vocal now, grunting and moaning, his noises getting louder and quicker in succession. It's just a matter of seconds now. I increase the speed of my fingers circling my wet clit and close my eyes. With one last cry and one last powerful thrust, my man convulses and stops breathing. The sensation of his cock pumping and pulsing inside of me is my undoing, too.

"God, yes… yes!" I scream, with one arm clinging to him for dear life when I feel my walls clamp down on him. A second before I literally start seeing stars, I hear a loud clatter; then everything goes blank.

When I come back to my senses a few minutes (or hours?) later, we are sitting on the floor, surrounded by our scattered clothes. Or better, Edward is sitting on the floor and I am sitting in his lap, cradled against his chest. How did we get here?

There's something covering my back and shoulders; I reach for it and then I stare at the corner of green fabric between my fingers, still having trouble gathering my wits.

"You were getting cold, so I put my shirt over you," he says softly and places a feather-light kiss on the top of my head.

"Thank you," I say and snuggle closer into him.

"It's new."

"Ah yes? It's a very nice shirt. The color suits you."

His answers is merely an incoherent hum, but it sounds pleased. I'm terribly sleepy all of a sudden; I can hardly keep my eyes open. Also, my back hurts like a motherfucker, just like I expected. But damn, it's so worth it.

"I'm sorry, if I hurt you," he declares as if he just read my mind.

"You didn't," I lie.

He doesn't buy it. "I'll draw you a bath anyway, if you don't mind."

I snicker. "I don't mind."

"Okay," he says. "The warmth will do you good. I could wash your hair, if you'd like."

"That would be heavenly," I admit. Isn't he the sweetest living thing?

"You need to let go of me though, so I can get up."

Yeah, right.

He pulls the shirt tighter around my shoulders and kisses my nose. When he scrambles to his feet and – finally – steps out of his jeans and boxers, I briefly wonder where the condom has gone. Apparently he has disposed of it while I was out, sort of...

Naked Edward slips into his shoes and starts collecting our clothes, piling them under one arm. Then he grabs my sneakers and puts them in front of me, neatly side by side.

"I'm going to take care of your bath. Please don't walk around here without shoes; there's shattered glass on the floor."

He looks at me expectantly, until I realize he's waiting for my acknowledgement. "Okay," I say, bewildered.

He smiles and crouches down for one last kiss before he heads towards the bathroom.

I slide my arms into the sleeves of Edward's pretty, new, green shirt and close the first three buttons. Then I put on my sneakers and stretch my legs out in front of me, which feels amazing. Leaning back against the wall under the scandalized objection of my spine, I look around, searching for any shards. It doesn't take me long to find them, and I laugh out loud at the sight of the scrambled thing on the floor to the left of me.

The picture frame didn't make it.

Little Green and Easybella Chapter 31

2012-06-24T13:30:00.000-07:00

(BELLA)

One of the things that never cease to amaze me are the 'first moments' Edward and I share after being apart. It doesn't matter how long we haven't seen each other… an hour, a day, eight years… I keep thinking that I know what it feels like to reunite, but I don't.

It's like the beginning of spring; all through the winter you were certain to recall what it will be like. Because you clearly know every little detail about it, right? Birds, trees, everything… you've been there before, and you're looking forward to the warmth, the light and the smell of those precious days. But when they're finally here, the sensations exceed all your expectations, and you realize that your memories were just a pale shadow of the real thing. You realize that you didn't even know what you were missing all the time, and how badly.

That's how it is with Edward and me right now. The way he zones in on me immediately and completely, as if I were the only person in the room, melts my insides. The smile that follows outshines every mental image of happy Little Green that I have conjured up during the day. The way his right arm fits around my middle so perfectly when he pulls me close is like a missing piece finally slips into its place all by itself.

I totally expected him to do all that, yet it didn't prepare me for this new 'first moment' of ours. Every time feels like a 'first time' indeed – excitement, electricity, fluttering stomach and all. I know, it is supposed to wear off over time, but it's hard to imagine. I want to believe this will never get old.

I also totally expected Tanya to be her usually naughty self, and maybe even worse in my absence, so overhearing that last remark of hers doesn't really surprise me. She's just trying to mess with me. I mean, come on… the banana condoms? Seriously? I would shoot her a glare if Edward's shoulders weren't blocking my view. But I cannot take my eyes off of his anyway.

If I had harbored the slightest worry about how he would handle Tanya's shenanigans all on his own, they now dissolve into thin air. He doesn't even seem to notice that she just said anything; he doesn't really acknowledge her presence anymore. All his senses are focused on me, and I know he's feeling it too… this 'first time' sensation.

I hear Tanya clearing her throat, followed by chair scraping and feet shuffling. And if eye-rolling had a sound too, I'm sure Tanya's would be really loud right now. When she moves past us, she mumbles something about closing the store and, "I cannot with the sweet…", and how watching us any longer will give her cavities. Then she's out of the room.

Edward closes his eyes, lets his forehead sink onto my shoulder and sighs deeply. My hand finds its way into the soft curls in the nape of his neck.

I know. I missed you, too.

He turns his head towards my face, and his arm around my waist tightens subtly. I feel my body tingle all over when his nose skims along my jaw and down my throat, until it finds the dent between my collarbones. There he stills and inhales deeply once, and once more, and again… as if reveling in the promises of a sweet breeze after a long winter.

I know, Little Green. I know…

This is one of our 'first moments'. I gently hold his head while my adorable man keeps breathing me in.

(FORKS, JULY 2004)

"And then spring crashed like a cry of joy into the woods around Mattis's Fort. The snow melted. It ran in streams down from all the mountainsides and burrowed its way down to the river. And the river roared and frothed with all its eddies and swirls and sang a wild spring song, which never fell silent."

Taking a moment to let the words she'd just read aloud reverberate in her mind, Bella fell silent. Those first days of spring had always been her favorite time of the year, and as it was so beautifully described in the book, she couldn't recall a spring ever being a slow build. Spring, as far as she remembered, always came with breathtaking unexpectedness; one moment everything was cold and grey and quiet, and then it wasn't.

A stirring at her feet snapped Bella out of her musings. She let the open book sink onto her lap and smiled at the boy who sat on the rug in front of the couch, casually leaning against her calf. As was his way, Edward had remained so perfectly silent and motionless as he listened to her reading; she'd almost forgotten that she had an audience.

Growing impatient with the long intermission, he had brought himself to mind by tugging at the leg of Bella's jeans. He craned his neck to look up at her and squinted his eyes quizzically.

"I'm just thinking," Bella answered his unspoken question. She suppressed a giggle when Edward raised one brow in further inquiry; he simply looked too cute when he did that. However, she didn't want him to think she wasn't taking him seriously.

"About spring," she elaborated. "You know, how Astrid Lindgren writes about its arrival… I think, she absolutely nails it."

It amazed her how much their communication, albeit non-verbal on his part, had improved. Where Edward's exterior had seemed like a blank card only a month ago, he had now taken on a rich vocabulary of gestures and facial expressions, belying that first impression of an emotionally challenged, slow kid people usually got.

He frowned, he scowled, he gaped. And he smiled a lot. He even laughed out loud sometimes, which Bella found absolutely wonderful. Even though he never laughed at any of her jokes but in the most unpredictable moments, her heart jumped for joy every time it happened.

And then, of course, there was the touching. The touching literally never stopped. Edward wasn't what you would call 'clingy'; he was just very constant in his efforts to always maintain physical contact with Bella. When standing next to her, he would find a way to lean towards her until their arms touched. Or he would gently rub his head against her upper arm. When they sat together, he used to put a hand on her thigh and let it rest there. Sometimes the only contact was the tip of his pinkie grazing hers, lightly as a feather. He also liked touching her hair.

In the beginning, Bella often found it awkward. Not because she didn't like it, but she was unsure if that much physical closeness was even appropriate, given that Edward was a boy and she was grown up enough to have boobs and everything. She was quite confident when it came to hugging Edward like brother and sister would do, but those constant and rather subtle caresses they shared seemed so much more intimate than that, and she knew it was not a normal thing, not even between siblings, and far less for a baby sitter and her charge. For weeks, she used to side-eye the Cullens warily, watching out for any signs of disapproval. But when neither Esme nor Carlisle ever seemed to be at odds with their son's strong attachment, she stopped worrying eventually.

All in all, communicating with Edward through such a variety of means came to her so naturally, that she hardly ever thought about how extraordinary this truly was – a fact she was reminded of only when she watched him fall back into his stiff demeanor on the occasions when others were around. He wouldn't even smile at his mother as much as he did at Bella, or as beautifully.

Right now, one of those beautiful smiles exclusively reserved for her lit up his face, as understanding sank in. He put his hands together at the fingertips, only to flip them apart in a sudden movement and throw both his arms in the air, fingers wide spread. With an excited look on his face, he mouthed 'Poof!'

This time, Bella couldn't keep her laughter in. Edward chortled quietly and scrambled to his feet. He crawled onto the couch next to her, bent his head over the open book on Bella's lap and quickly skimmed the pages. When he found what he was looking for, he tapped the line with his index finger.

… spring crashed like a cry of joy into the woods…

"Yes, that's what I mean," Bella confirmed. "It's exactly like that, don't you think? I love spring."

Edward nodded frantically; he really could relate to this. For a moment, he was overwhelmed by the realization that his own perceptions and feelings were shared by others. Not only by his Easybella, which he almost took for granted at this point, but also by the author of a book that had been written more than a decade before he was even born, and in a foreign country on the other side of the ocean, at that.

Ronia, The Robber's Daughter had been Bella's pick. She had read it herself at the age of ten, or maybe eleven. She remembered sleepless nights aplenty, secretly devouring it, in the light of a small flashlight and hidden under the blanket. What she didn't remember though was how utterly enchanting Lindgren's words really were, or how clearly this was a Romeo And Juliet adaptation of sorts – a fact that eluded her as a little girl. Thankfully, and because it was a children's story, it left out any Shakespearean tragedy.

Anyway, it was the tale, beautifully told, about the deep friendship between two children, the daughter and the son of arch nemesis robber clans, who ran from their families to live together in the woods. It was riddled with lots of fantasy elements too, and she had been sure Edward would love it.

It turned out she was right; even more than she knew. Edward always loved when Bella read to him. I fact, he would listen to her reciting the Forks phone directory, just happy to be close to her and hear her voice. But this time, it was different.

James Fenimore Cooper and Jules Verne had been great, and Bella's animated reading had gotten his mental cinema going. But while he merely watched those adventures come to life in his mind as if on a screen, the story of Ronia and her friend Birk drew him in so much, that he found himself really inside it. He walked his mental Scandinavian woodlands in 3D, and he slipped inside those characters and saw through their eyes.

He switched between the girl and the boy a lot at first, especially when he was confused about their feelings, but he definitely felt… something. And then he imagined it was Bella and him, alone in the woods with no one else around to watch or to judge. He would be with her all day, just Easybella and him, and he would protect her from being caught by the faeries. With only Easybella around, he wouldn't have to change who he was, but maybe he would anyway. Maybe he would speak…

He snuggled into Bella's side and pointed a finger at where she had left off on the page, indicating for her to continue reading, which she did without further ado. Almost casually, she wiggled her arm free from between them and put it around Edward's shoulders. He nestled even closer, enjoying the way her voice vibrated in her chest, and stealthily sniffed at the exposed skin above the neckline of her tee. Being that close to his Easybella did things to him, weird and wonderful things he didn't quite understand but produced such blissful sensations that he sought them as often as possible.

It usually started with a soft tingling at the back of his throat that grew stronger by the minute and then slowly diffused, wandering down his spine and flooding his insides with warmth. His heartbeat and breathing slowed down and he became calm to a degree where he almost felt drowsy. Often he couldn't keep his eyes open; he never even tried. It was the most delicious state of being he knew, and he wished for it to last forever.

Sometimes the sensations wouldn't stop at his stomach but made their way further down, and his penis would grow hard. Not quite as much as it did in the mornings, when he literally had to force it down with his hands in order to empty his bladder without making a mess in the bathroom. But it stirred alright, and other than his morning erections which he found rather annoying, it felt pleasant.

There was nothing really sexual about it; Edward's ten-year-old mind didn't work that way yet and he never thought anything even remotely along those lines. It was just one of the many ways his body reacted to Bella, especially to her scent, and it meant nothing more or less to him than the warm shivers along his spine. He never considered touching himself, either. It just happened, and then un-happened, and Bella never noticed anything. Even though he didn't make a conscious effort to hide it – that's how innocently he thought of it.

Right now, he felt the familiar tingling spread again as he basked in her scent and the sound of her voice. His heart swelled so much with love for his Easybella that he could hardly bear keeping the emotion within the confines of his introvert self.

"And here she was now and plunged into spring. It was so glorious all around her that Ronia, too, was abuzz with its plentiful glory and she shrilled like a bird, loud and screaming, until she had to explain it to her friend. 'I have to make a spring scream, or else I will burst.'"

Edward felt like he had to make a love scream, or else he would burst, too. But of course, he couldn't. Instead, he climbed onto Bella's lap, wrapped his arms around her neck and hugged her fiercely. A brief moan escaped him, as if the scream inside of him had grown so big that it was impossible to keep that tiny portion of it from spilling over.

Despite Bella's surprise, her arms moved of their own volition and she held Edward tightly. The book went flying and hit the carpet with a muffled thud, but she didn't care. "I love you, too," she whispered, wanting to say it back to him. She wished there was a way to say it better, so that he would really understand how much he meant to her, how precious their bond had become.

When Edward's arms tightened around her and he sighed into her hair, she allowed herself to hope that maybe, just maybe, he already knew.

"Enough reading for today, don't you agree?" she asked after a while, and Edward relaxed and let go of her. "Your mom will be back soon, and I want to tidy up a bit before she returns. Why don't you pour yourself another glass of cherry juice and wait by the pool?"

The boy nodded. All the wonderfulness of the last hour seemed to have made him thirsty. Bella kissed his forehead, then she ruffled his hair. "Go ahead. I'll join you in a moment."

Only a little later that day… after she saw Edward's clothes shed next to the pool and almost fainted with the shock of having lost him… after she found him hiding in a closet, upset beyond reason about having spilled his beverage… after she had bathed him and sang a certain song to him she probably recalled because of all the spring talk… when she made up his secret name that only she would call him… that was when Edward knew.

In his mind, he had called her by a secret name all the time. And when she told him that from now on, and when no one else was listening, she would call him Little Green, 'like the color when the spring is born', he just knew.

She felt it, too.

Little Green and Easybella – there was no other thing in the world as precious as this.

Forever.

(BELLA)

When he's finally smelled his fill of whatever is so enticing about my sweaty-after-a-long-workday self, he gives a contented sigh. "I missed this…you… I missed you."

"I know. I missed you, too. Hey, I'm sorry you had to wait for me."

"'S fine," he tells my collarbone. "Tanya told me about Mrs. Schneider, and I wouldn't mind if you delivered goods to young men."

Huh?

He lifts his head, his green eyes shining as they find mine, and says, "I called Esme this morning and told her that I forgive her."

"Ah yes? Peachy! I bet she's happy now, isn't she?"

I'm unable to keep the acid out of my voice, but I regret it immediately. This is important to him, dammit! Also, it's just so Little Green, blurting things out like that, eager to share… well, the new, speaking Little Green, that is. I bet it had been building inside of him all day and he just cannot keep it in any longer.

"No, she isn't," he replies earnestly, unfazed by my bitchy remark. "Can we leave now?"

There! He did it again. He's really giving me mental whiplash…

"Okay. I have to check if Tanya needs help closing up first."

"I'm good here," Tanya hollers from the store, making us both jump. How the hell did she hear what we were saying?

"Just go already, so you can get into each other's pants, or souls, or whatever," she laughs.

Her voice sounds weird, as if accompanied by some electronic effect or something. And then it hits me. It must be that baby monitor thingie she uses to get notice of arriving customers when she's back in here. I guess that thing works both ways. Jeez!

"I'd like to get into your pants," Edward says softly, the most adorable smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. And it's killing me that there's not even a hint of cheekiness coloring his voice; he just sounds sincere. And sure as fuck, Tanya overheard that, too. Double jeez!

And then Edward kisses me, and when our lips touch, there's no need to consciously order mine to part. In a blink our tongues meet and, oh my God, this is heaven! I forget about Tanya and baby monitors, and I couldn't care less if she can hear my quiet moan or how noisily Edward is breathing through his nose.

I put both of my hands on his behind and pull him close; I want to feel what I know will be there when our hips meet. There's just something incredibly arousing about his hard cock grinding against me when we're fully clothed. And I'm not disappointed; it's just the way his body reacts to being close to me. Reliably.

I should be used to it by now, but holy shit! He is big, and this is so hot. I break the kiss and take a deep breath to speak, but he takes the words out of my mouth.

"Let's get out of here, so I can make love to you."

The baby monitor snickers. Oh boy, I will never live this down.

E/N:

If you haven't read Ronia, The Robber's Daughter yet (or any other of Lindgren's works), OMG, do it!

Little Green & Easybella 30

2012-06-13T17:40:00.000-07:00

(EDWARD)

I've just maneuvered the car into a parking spot on the other side of the street when Tanya Denali steps out of the drugstore and waves me over. I'm really early and I know Bella won't be off for another thirty minutes. But I just couldn't wait at home any longer. I even tried to kill some time in Port Angeles and visited a few stores, or else I would have been here even sooner.

I was prepared to wait in the car, but apparently Tanya has other ideas. So I shut off the engine and wave back at her to let her know I'm coming, and well... just to return the friendly gesture. I'm very eager to see Bella and tell her about my phone conversation with Esme, so I'm really happy for the invitation. Pointing the remote back over my shoulder to lock the car, I jog across the street. It's only when I see Tanya grin and shake her head with a chuckle that I notice how much my cheeks are straining with my own smile.

"Wow, Eddy, I'd really like to think you are happy to see me, what with that gorgeous smile of yours," she laughs. "I'm not delusional enough to not know you didn't come for me, but I'll be damned – Bella is one lucky girl!"

I can't stop smiling, even when I have to turn my gaze towards her shoulder to avoid eye contact. With her, it's more like an old habit anyway, a precautionary move I feel is not really necessary. Actually, I am once more quite comfortable in her company.

"But I am happy to see you," I assure her and offer her my hand. This time she takes it, but instead of shaking it in greeting, she surprises me by putting her other hand on top of our joined ones.

"You know what's funny?" she says softly. "I kind of believe you."

"Like you should." I'm oddly at ease with the fact that she keeps holding my hand. Just like the last time, my eyes settle on her mouth, which is curled into a pouty smirk. Inspiration hits me and with a wink I tell her, "Also, you look 'hot damn' again today."

Abruptly, she lets go of me and snorts with laughter. "Come in, smart ass, before I change my mind."

I follow her inside, elated by the way things between her and I just seem to click. This feels so... normal – just friends saying hi and engaging in a good-natured banter. Who knew? I start wondering about the whereabouts of Bella though.

"I can't believe you just cracked a joke like that, Eddy," Tanya hollers back over her shoulder. "By the way, 'hot damn' right back at you. Is that shirt new?"

I look down on myself. "Yes, it is. How do you know?"

She stops and turns around. "No rocket science, my dear. May I...?"

She reaches for my left arm and pats it gently to indicate for me to lift it. Then she grabs something and pulls it forward for me to see. It's a price tag dangling on a thread from the side seam.

"Forty-nine ninety-nine? Worth every cent, if you ask me. Bella will be mush when she sees you in this. That green is exactly the color of your eyes; do you know that? "

Actually I do. That's why I bought it this afternoon. And because I know Bella likes green. I still don't see her. Maybe she's working somewhere in the back?

"Where's Bella, by the way?" I ask, trying to rip the tag off.

With a sharp intake of breath, Tanya interrupts my efforts. "Stop that, silly! You will ruin that pretty shirt. Come on, I have a pair of scissors somewhere in the back, I think."

She takes my hand and drags me through the store. Once again, I marvel at the lack of discomfort when she touches me. It happens so naturally; before I know it, we're in the backroom and she pushes me down on a chair. While she starts rummaging in a drawer, I realize she didn't answer my question.

"So... Bella?" I inquire. I'm getting a little nervous.

"Ah... sorry I didn't tell you earlier; Bella's not here."

Her answer hits me like a sudden punch in the guts.

Not here? But she is supposed to be here!

"But she asked me to keep you company," Tanya continues, still with her back to me. "You know, in case you showed up early."

I have no idea what to make of this piece of information… or how to make my stomach stop turning.

"I wonder how she knew," Tanya mutters amused, as if the fact that Bella is missing meant nothing. She turns around, wiggling her eyebrows, and holds a pair of scissors up. "Got the little fucker!" she cheers triumphantly.

But the shock must register on my face, because her grin dies as soon as she sees me. "Oh, fuck!"

In a heartbeat she's crouching in front of me, wide-eyed. "Crap, Edward, I'm sorry. Bella will be here in a few minutes; everything is okay. You're not freaking out on me here, right?"

I'm still trying to grasp what's going on and I'm freaking out alright, but I shake my head no for her. I don't want to scare her.

Bella is okay; she will be here in a few minutes. Okay. Bella is okay… where is she?

"Edward, can you breathe for me, just once?" Tanya snaps the scissors in front of my nose a few times. "Edward?"

Am I not breathing?

"I will do something terrible if you don't breathe, I swear."

Like what? And where is Bella?

I stare at her mouth incredulously.

"Listen, Bella is at Mrs. Schneider's, that's all. She's delivering goods, like every Wednesday. Old lady, wheelchair, chatty as hell, may take a while. Okay?"

I'm still staring. And I'm scaring her. Well, so much for me being normal around a friend...

"Goddammit!" She jumps up to her feet and points the scissors at me, dangerously close to my face. "Breathe the fuck now, or else I will shake the shit out of you!"

I take a deep breath.

Bella is okay.

"I'd rather you don't," I tell Tanya.

"Jesus Christ," she mutters gruffly and rolls her eyes. "Lift your arm."

"Sorry if I scared you. I'm not freaking out."

"Why yes, you did scare me, Gigolo. I really don't need that shit, you know." She holds up the removed price tag and smiles. "There you go. You sure you're not going to panic or something?"

I nod my head yes. I'm sure.

"Okay, good. Because I'm not going to mother you all day, you know. Also, Bella would probably rip me a new one if she came back to find you with a blue face while I'm giving you a mouth-to-mouth."

Her voice is colored with indignation and she didn't call me by any name, so it's hard to tell whether she's just messing with me or not, despite her smile. I risk a quick look into her eyes and find her playfully glaring at me.

Yes, we're good. She's not really mad.

I don't know if the discomfort I'm supposed to feel facing her is drowned out by the aftermath of the shock, or if it is something about Tanya herself, but I don't feel any urge to avert my eyes.

"You're welcome," she says, although I haven't thanked her yet.

I should have said thanks, but now it is kind of obsolete, so I just keep holding her gaze a little longer. The fact alone that I can do this is too fascinating to stop – too fascinating and too comfortable. I am compulsively blinking a lot though, as if my body begs to differ. But I'm keeping the eye contact.

"Wow..." Tanya whispers and tilts her head to one side. "Are we having a moment here, Eddy?"

In an obvious attempt to prevent her grin from growing wider, she pulls her cherry-red bottom lip through her teeth. The movement leaves the familiar trace of lipstick on the lower edge of her front teeth, and my eyes are drawn to it like magnets.

"I guess so," I say.

We both chuckle, and the spell is broken. She gets on her feet, tosses the scissors back into the drawer and closes it with a well-practiced push of her butt. Then she leans against the cabinet and starts twirling the price tag back and forth, coiling and uncoiling its thread around her index finger.

"So... now that we've established that your girlfriend is not humping some other guy somewhere but just helping an old lady, like the good girl scout she is – what funny things are we two going to do with the time remaining?"

"I never thought Bella was with another guy," I clarify. "I just didn't know she wouldn't be here. She didn't tell me about Mrs. Schneider."

"Oh, did she not?" Tanya raises her brows so high, I can see it without even lifting my eyes from her mouth. "Dude, you gotta give the girl a break; she's not supposed to tell you every little thing."

She is right, of course. Also, I am much too early. If I had arrived at the right time, I wouldn't even have noticed that Bella went somewhere else. A thought that doesn't really calm me...

"So if you weren't thinking Bella was with someone else, why were you freaking out like that?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I'm weird. I don't deal well with surprises."

"Is that an autism thing? Or just an Eddy thing?"

I don't really know how to answer that question. I never was without autism, so how am I supposed to view myself separately from it? It's an interesting question though; I never really thought about that. Would I be affected as much by unexpected events if it weren't for being autistic?

"Anyway..." Finally fed up with twirling the price tag around, Tanya flips it into the trash bin. "If you don't like surprises, you better not show up surprisingly early. You never know what surprises are waiting for you, right?"

I raise my brows, too. Because two can play this game. "Well, who is the smart ass now?"

She laughs. "Touché! Not bad, Eddy, not bad..."

"Thanks," I say, grinning.

She claps her hands and straightens herself. "Hey, we'll have to keep this between you and me, but we're practically closed already and I could really use a beer. What about you?"

"Uh... I'm driving."

"Yeah right. Crap, I wasn't thinking. A coke then?"

I notice that I'm actually quite thirsty. "Coke would be great, thank you."

She claps her hands once more and walks out into the sales room, calling over her shoulder, "I'll be right back. Don't move, okay?"

"Okay," I say loud enough for her to hear me. Then I slide down a bit in my chair and exhale a long breath. I think I'm doing okay now. I'm still a bit nervous because Bella hasn't returned yet, but there are still fifteen minutes until the drugstore closes officially… as opposed to 'practically'.

I'm still amazed about the connection Tanya and I have. I am not sure if it is something about her, or if maybe I'm just getting better at socializing in general. I have thought about it before... I believe it's something to do with Bella.

Being with Bella, even for this short period of just a few days, has changed me in so many ways. Before, it was not only that I felt uncomfortable about meeting people; I actually just didn't care about interacting with others. I had no interest in making friends or becoming part of a group. It never mattered to me if someone liked me or not. Not enough to put much effort in it anyway.

That has changed. Because this is not just about me anymore. It's about us. Bella and I, we make an 'us' now. And I want to be in her world as much as I want her in mine. I am willing to do what I can to make this work; I always was. I had worked so hard to become more apt at Glenholme School to get there... to earn my place by her side. She had been the reason all the way.

I just didn't expect stepping into her world to be this... enjoyable. I tentatively touch my cheeks to confirm that I'm still smiling. Yes, I'm actually enjoying myself being around Tanya. And being able to connect to her, along with the knowledge that she likes spending time with me as well, gives me a certain sense of achievement that surprises and satisfies me in equal measures.

I guess I care now. And maybe that's what's making things easier, even pleasant. Anyway, I know for sure it wouldn't be like this without Bella. Because I wouldn't care. Would I stop caring again if I lost Bella? I don't really want to think about that, but it's an obvious question, kind of...

"Coke for you… on the house!"

Tanya's voice and two soda cans clanking down on the table thankfully snap me out of my musings. "And one for me too," she says and winks. "I decided to be a good girl today." She drops herself onto the chair opposite, opens her drink and with a nod towards me, lifts it to her mouth for a long swig.

I follow suit and almost moan when the cool liquid hits my throat; it feels that good. My hostess and I are having another 'moment' of sorts while we're both raising our chins higher and higher with each gulp we take, watching each other over the rims of our beverage cans. We stop at the same time – I with a blissful hiss, Tanya with a hearty burp.

"So..." she starts, wiping her mouth with a back of her hand, "I suppose you're not the jealous type then, huh? I'm curious, Eddy, because most guys I know, when their girl isn't where they thought she would be, the image of her with another man is the first thing they would think about. It's a testosterone sort of thing. But you...?"

"That idea didn't cross my mind," I answer honestly. Jealousy is a strange concept to me. I understand the mechanics of it in a way, but I don't think I ever felt jealous of anyone or anything. It's hard to imagine what it might feel like.

"No, it obviously didn't. But what if you had reason to think – and I'm not saying you have, of course – that Bella was with another man? Just for argument's sake… let's say I had told you she's delivering goods to a young Mr. Schneider instead of the old Mrs.?"

I know what she's aiming at with her question, so I think about that for a moment.

"Is he dangerous?"

"Who?"

"The young Mr. Schneider we just invented for argument's sake."

Tanya smirks. "Uhm... no. But he is handsome. And single."

I try to imagine the scenario and listen carefully inside me, but it doesn't strike any chord.

"It wouldn't make any difference," I say. "It doesn't matter whether Bella is with an old lady or a young man, as long as I know that she's well and safe."

"But he is handsome!" Tanya repeats indignantly.

"That's not his fault, I suppose."

"You are kidding me, right?" She makes a funny face, and I can't help but laugh.

"No, I'm not," I assure her. "See, I don't think I know what jealousy feels like. I think it's a special form of envy, only it isn't about belongings, it's about persons. It seems stupid to me. Why should I envy Bella talking to other persons, men or women?"

"Okay, maybe not talking. But what about touching? Wouldn't you want to interfere if young Mr. Schneider got a little touchy-feely with Bella?"

"Probably," I admit.

"Aha!" Tanya blurts and points her index finger at me triumphantly. "So you would be jealous, after all. I knew it. All guys are possessive when it comes to their girlfriend."

I'm still laughing quietly; she is too funny. "I would want to interfere because most likely Bella wouldn't be comfortable with a touchy-feely Mr. Schneider," I clarify. "It's nothing to do with possessiveness. You cannot possess a person, so why would I feel possessive?"

"Oh come on, Eddy, and what if she does like it? Are you telling me you would just stand by and watch them holding hands?"

I think I would. But if I am honest with myself, I must admit it's not exactly a pleasant visual. Anyway...

"I don't know, Tanya. But it's a moot point, because I know Bella wouldn't like being touched by a hypothetical Mr. Schneider or any other man who's not a close friend of hers. So of course I'd do something to help her get rid off the unwanted physical contact."

"You are slippery as an eel and you know it," she huffs, throwing her hands in the air. She thinks I'm avoiding her question.

"I know what you're asking," I say. I'm trying to sound serious again, even though her exasperation is quite amusing. "I'm really not jealous. I don't even think I have any idea what jealousy feels like."

"Well, it's easy for you to say that now. But I bet you would change your mind if you'd actually happen to walk into your girlfriend kissing another guy."

Tanya leans back in her chair and takes a long swig of her coke. She's not funny any more. She looks sad. And it's not because of me, or something I said. I know I didn't do anything wrong; I just answered her questions. Yet she seems disappointed. She shakes her head and sighs.

"You are lucky that Bella is such a faithful soul who deserves your superhuman trust."

No, this is definitely not about me.

"Did that happen to you?" I ask softly; I don't want to upset her further. "Did you get jealous because your boyfriend kissed another girl?"

"Ex-boyfriend!" she hisses. "And you can bet your ass I got jealous when I saw that unfaithful bastard stick his tongue down Lauren Mallory's throat."

"Oh."

"Yeah... oh."

I guess this is where I should take her hand or something – whatever people do to comfort a friend who is upset. But I can't bring myself to move a finger; I don't think I'm ready for that. Her sudden mood swing took me off guard. I want to sympathize, but I am at a loss.

"What did it feel like?" I ask instead. I really want to know.

"Well, it's no fun, I can tell you that much," she snorts mirthlessly.

"It hurt, yes?"

"Yes, it did." She closes her eyes for a second, then she takes a deep breath. "Look, Edward, I'm sorry I brought all this up; I don't know what got into me. I guess it's just one of those days."

"It's fine," I say.

"No, it's not, but never mind."

But I do mind. I want to know. "Were you angry? What did you do?"

"What do you mean? I kicked his ass, that's what I did. I broke up with him."

"Because he kissed that girl?"

"No shit, Einstein!"

That seems a bit harsh. But I know people often make rash decisions out of jealousy.

"How long had he been your boyfriend?"

The answer comes immediately; she doesn't need to ponder. "A little more than a year. We were pretty serious."

"Do you know why he kissed the girl?"

"Jesus Christ," she moans. "Who cares? I didn't ask him."

"But how did you know he was being unfaithful? A kiss can have many different meanings."

She looks at me incredulously. "Did you hit your head? I saw him lick that bitch's tonsils; that didn't exactly leave much room for interpretation!"

"He might still have been loyal to you in his heart and mind though."

"Err…what?"

I weigh my next words carefully. I feel like I'm onto something, and I really want her understand what I'm saying.

"Let's look at it the other way round. If your boyfriend…"

"Ex-boyfriend!"

"…your ex-boyfriend never kissed anyone but you, would that prove in any way that he's faithful?"

She stares at me in silence. The only thing moving is her left eyelid, which is twitching nervously. Since she doesn't appear to come up with an answer any time soon, I continue to lay out my thoughts.

"I mean, apart from kissing that girl, was he good to you? Like, I don't know... did he defend you against others when they treated you unfairly or talked behind your back? Because I consider such behavior as being faithful. Was he there for you when you had a bad time and such? Did he stay with you even when you were no fun? That's loyalty, is it not?"

She opens her mouth as if to say something, but closes it again without speaking and just looks at me, dumbfounded. "I need a cigarette," she mutters eventually, and rises from her chair. She fetches a pack of Marlboros from her purse on the cabinet and holds it out to me. "You want?"

I shake my head no. "I don't smoke."

"Want a toothpick to chew on then? Haha... just kidding – good for you that you don't smoke. It's a bad habit."

She lights a cigarette and inhales deeply. I know she is playing for time; I can see that she's thinking. Is smoking even allowed in here? After two more drags, she returns to her chair where she sits down and stubs out the cigarette in the ashtray on the table, almost angrily.

"You're asking the weirdest questions, Eddy, you know that?"

I don't think my questions are that absurd, but maybe I'm being too nosy. Maybe Tanya doesn't want to share such personal matters with me. "I apologize. I didn't mean to –"

"No, it's fine," she cuts in.

Encouraged, I inquire, "So…?"

She sighs noisily. "Yes, he did all that. He was very good to me, and until I caught him with Lauren Mallory at my birthday party, I really thought he loved me."

"I believe he did love you."

"Edward, seriously… you have no idea what you're talking about. Believe me, you cannot know what it's like to be cheated on by the one you love unless it happened to you. Until then, I guess we just have to agree to disagree. He cheated on me, at my own fucking birthday party! That's not love in my book."

I think about it for a moment, trying to picture Bella touching another person somewhat intimately. I don't like it. Admittedly, I'd rather she wouldn't touch anyone but me, but at the same time the idea seems kind of selfish. I don't think I have the right to decide who Bella should see, talk to or touch.

Just because I have no desire whatsoever myself to experience close physical contact with other people doesn't mean it's the same for her. I don't like being touched by other people at all, but maybe she does. And even though I selfishly wish being intimate with Bella was my exclusive privilege, it has to be her choice.

"I can see those little wheels turning inside that pretty head of yours, Edward," Tanya suddenly speaks up. "You're a smart dude, but you're also very young and naïve in a way – which is part of your panty-dropping charm. But believe me, that boy-meets-girl and love and heartbreak thing isn't something you can figure out with applied logic."

"I'm beginning to see that," I agree. "But still…"

Tanya shakes her head. "Okay, Mr. Spock, how is this? My boyfriend…"

"Your ex-boyfriend," I correct.

"…my now ex-boyfriend, yes! We were exclusive, okay? That means, he wasn't supposed to fool around with other girls – no sex, no kissing, no fondling – just like he expected me to keep my legs closed and my hands off of other guys. It was a promise we had made to each other. It's what couples usually do when they become exclusive; they don't even need to spell it out."

"I see. Then it was wrong of him, kissing that girl." A broken promise; I can understand that.

"Yes, it was. And you don't just swallow shit like that and say, 'Oh, no problem, baby, I forgive you for ripping my heart out!' If you think you could do that if it was Bella, you're just lying to yourself."

"I would not break up with her," I say, knowing with certainty I never would.

"No, I guess you wouldn't," Tanya whispers. "Bless your heart."

I'm glad to see her smile again, even though she does it with closed lips. I kind of miss her lipstick-stained grin.

"I forgave my mother Esme this morning," I tell her without thinking. I don't know why. It just came to me. Maybe it's because we're talking about forgiving.

"Holy shit, really? I take everything back; you're a fucking saint!"

Judging by Tanya's reaction, Bella must have filled her in to some extend about Esme. "So you know what she did with our letters?" I ask, just to make sure.

"Yes, Bella told me. What your mom did was all kinds of wrong. How could she do that to you?"

"She made a mistake."

Tanya huffs. "That's a really nice way to describe it."

"Just like your boyfriend."

"You can't compare those things."

"I think I can. Your boyfriend did something wrong and broke your heart, even though he cared for you. Esme did something wrong and broke mine, even though she cared for me."

Crossing her arms on the table, Tanya suddenly leans forward which makes her breasts almost pop out of her tee's neckline. She squints her eyes and her face registers an odd mix of sarcasm and genuine interest.

"Okay, Gandhi," she says. "How in fuck's name could you forgive her?"

I knew she would ask this question. I waited for it.

"I decided to forgive her because of the thousand things she'd done right, instead of breaking up with her for the one thing she'd done wrong."

Slowly, Tanya lets herself sink back against the backrest of her chair. Her hands come to rest on her lap, and she exhales lengthily through pursed lips. At the same time, I can hear the front door of the drugstore open and close, and although I happily recognize the sound and rhythm of the approaching footsteps as the squeaking rubber soles of Bella's sneakers, I keep looking at Tanya. We're not done yet.

"You're scaring me, Edward," she says, and then her signature grin is back in full force. "That planet you're from… tell me, are there more of your kind?"

I don't know what to say to this. Also, I really want to stand up now and finally meet Bella. But Tanya winks at me, and whispers, "Never mind. Another time, okay?"

And just when my slightly out-of-breath girlfriend enters the room and fills it with her soothing scent and warm presence, Tanya's voice resumes its normal level and she pipes conversationally, "So the banana-flavored rubbers were that good, huh?"

Little Green & Easybella 29

2012-05-03T15:53:00.002-07:00

(EDWARD)

I don't get a reply. But I can hear Esme breathe. And there's a faint rustle, too. Like paper, or cloth rubbing against something. Her breathing is really loud; she's breathing through her open mouth.

Am I supposed to say anything else? I don't think so. I made my opening, and now it's her turn – that's how it works. So I wait. It makes me anxious that she's not talking, but I wait. My ear starts to hurt from pressing the phone against it so hard, but I hang on until she finally speaks.

"Oh, Edward…" she says. Or, at least, I think that's what she says. It sounds like'hhhtwrt', as if she's suffering from an affliction in her throat that stole all the vowels. It doesn't even sound like Esme. And then… nothing.

This is bad. She's even worse than I on the phone. I can't do this; it won't work this way.

"We should… Esme, could you maybe come over?"

More breathing, louder, some sniffling, and more hissed consonants. "…mso s'rry, gahd, sssoso s'rry…"

Right.

"I know. That's why I'm calling."

I'm clutching the phone so hard that all the blood is gone from my fingertips. The wheezing and sniffling at her end of the line gets even worse, and I don't know what to do. And then my heart starts beating so fast and so loud, it almost drowns out Esme's noises, when I suddenly realize what those noises mean. She can't speak properly, because –

"Don't…" I whisper, crestfallen. This is really, really bad. This is what I need to end. "Don't cry, please."

My heart is almost jumping out of my chest. I notice that I'm rocking back and forth in my seat; I have no idea when I started doing that, but right now it seems to be the only thing that keeps me from hanging up to escape the sound of her sobs.

Because that's what the sounds are… sobs! I'm pretty sure she didn't even hear my whispered plea; she's crying so noisily. I'm getting angry again. I'm angry at Esme for putting me through this, and I'm angry at myself for wanting to run away from this... fight or flight, fight or flight… there's no such thing like 'your own pace' when it's fight or flight.

But I'm rocking back and forth, and I find a rhythm. This rhythm is my own, and it centers me. Pulse rate, breathing, how often to blink and when to swallow – everything synchronizes with that rhythm. It's not exactly comfortable, but it's good enough for now. It takes away the edge and reminds me that I called her to stop the hurt, not to make it worse.

"Mom?" Her secret name cuts a swath of silence into her sorrow.

I'm rocking so vehemently now that the chair I'm sitting on inches forward with each of my movements. It's a rhythm, my own rhythm, a good one, a steady one – and it doesn't falter when I take the phone off of my ear, hold it in front of my mouth and speak with as much clarity and intent as I can muster.

"I forgive you!"

I don't know if she's replying, or crying again. With the phone held like this, I can't hear her, and I feel like a coward for avoiding her response. But I need to speak uninterrupted now, or else this won't work.

"You don't need to hurt anymore, and neither do I. I've decided that I don't want to be mad at you. It's too harmful... for everyone. I won't forget what you did, and I will ask you some day to explain why you did it, but not now. I'm calling, because I want you to know that I forgive you, so we can be good again. Will you stop crying now?"

Reluctantly, I bring the phone to my ear again and hold my breath. She's still crying: I really wish she would stop that. But, between hiccups and sniffles, she's at least speaking now, vowels and all, and I catch her mid-sentence.

"…wish I could undo it, Edward, I -"

"But you can't," I cut in, not willing to have any of that.

I think of last night when Bella found me sleeping, and my devastation when I realized I had forgotten to pick her up. I, too, had wanted nothing more than to undo it.

"I know how you feel," I tell Esme. "You want to fix it, don't you? But you can't. What is done, is done. I want you to stop crying, okay?"

I told her I forgive her; why is it not working? This is beyond frustrating.

"I made a terrible mistake, but I never meant to hurt you," she says, hoarse and breathless from all her crying.

"I know." I'm relieved she's finally responding rationally. My rocking slows down a bit, as does my heart rate.

"I love you, Edward."

"I know."

"I don't know if I can ever forgive myself…"

"Oh, but you have to!" I almost shout. "Because I do, I forgive you, okay? But if you don't stop resenting yourself for what had happened, this won't work!"

It will only get worse. Can't she see that? My chair slides forward another few inches; I'm getting really agitated. My heart has left my chest and is beating in my throat now, making it hard to breathe.

"You can't… Esme, no! You're belittling my... my forgiveness... it's worthless if you don't accept it."

She falls silent, except for her sniffling. What else does she want me to say?

"Mom, I miss you. I just want you back. I want us back!"

"Oh God, Edward, I miss you too – so, so much! You are the most wonderful, astonishing... I don't deserve you…"

"Yes, you do. Will you stop crying now?" Please, this is so exhausting. The talking, over the phone and everything... I can't do this much longer. "I'll hang up if you don't stop."

"I'll stop, I promise." She sounds calmer now, thank God! She sounds like Esme. "I can't tell you what it means to me to know that you're forgiving me. Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"You're welcome."

I stop rocking and fall forward in my chair with relief. With my forehead on my knees and the phone still glued to my ear, I take a deep, cleansing breath. I did it!

"I'll hang up now, okay?" I say, eager to get this over with.

"Do you still want me to come over? I can be there in thirty minutes."

I asked her to come over, didn't I? But that was when I thought she wouldn't speak on the phone. So I tell her, "No."

We're done for now, and I'm feeling drained. This was beyond exhausting, for whatever reasons. I just want to be by myself for a while now. Every single muscle in my body aches from the rocking and the tension, and my insides are filthy with the sticky remains of all the anger I felt in the last few days.

"I'm going to take a bath," I inform her.

"Okay. Can I call you tomorrow?"

"Sure. Bye."

I hang up before she can say her own good-bye and drop the phone as if it has burnt my hand. I'm pretty sure I won't use it any time soon. It is sweaty from my hands gripping it so tightly, but to me, it looks like it is wet from all the tears Esme cried into it, like it's unable to hold all the sorrow that's now bottled up in it. No, I won't touch that thing for at least a month.

My shirt is damp, too. I tear it off of me, but I still feel kind of soiled – as if my sweat and Esme's tears have acted as a solvent, strong enough to dissipate all resentments, but leaving a cold, icky film on my skin. I really need a bath.

I get rid of my remaining clothes on the way to the bathroom, where I dispose of them in the hamper. I turn the water on, and then I sit on the closed toilet lid and watch the tub slowly fill, wondering why I'm not really feeling better now.

I feel some relief, but I think that's just because my conversation with Esme is over and I'm not on the damn phone any more. As for the result of my effort, I'm disappointed. One would have thought forgiving someone was easier, or more appreciated by the recipient. I expected it to be much more joyful for both of us.

But there's no real joy coming with the relief. And Esme wasn't happy either, just calm. I don't regret my decision though. I meant it when I told her that I missed her. And judging by the way she sounded at the end, it worked. She's back with me now, I think. She's just still sad.

I wish I had Bella's ability to take away one's sadness so easily. She always knows the right things to say to lighten my heart, even when I've fucked up thoroughly. But I'm not Bella.

Maybe it is okay for Esme to be upset for a little longer, considering the size of the… problem? I was very upset with myself yesterday. And compared to forgetting to pick up your girlfriend just once, the mistake Esme made is… it is just…

"Ahh…" I groan and close my eyes. As I try to fathom the enormity of Esme's fault, my chest constricts with a sudden wave of regret that is not of my own making.

And she had kept it to herself all those years. Not even Carlisle knew about the letters. My stomach turns at the mere thought of living with such a poisonous secret, day after day, year after year, while it grows and festers under the surface until it is rooted in your soul so deeply that you cannot remember any more how it was without that dark abyss inside… no trespassing!

But those are not my regrets, not mine, and I need to push them away. Breathe and push them away… in, out, in, out… push them away.

I've missed the right moment to turn off the water, so I need to let some of it drain out of the tub again before I can get in. I don't like that; it's such a waste. The entire bathroom is fogged, so thick with water vapor I can hardly make out anything that's further away than an arm's length. But I don't want to see anything now anyway.

I let myself sink down into the bathtub, close my eyes and let the warmth consume me. I let the water swallow me whole, only leaving my mouth and nose above the surface. The water gently swirls my hair, laps at the corners of my eyes and fills my ears, until all I can hear is its dull murmuring and the thudding sonar of my own heartbeat.

Peace.

(A TRAILER PARK... SOMEWHERE, 1999)

Peace.

To the five-year-old boy, it didn't matter that his legs didn't fit in the yellow plastic tub. Its rim cut into the hollows of his knees, with a slight uncomfortable pressure, and his lower legs and feet were dangling outside, warmed by the sun. Yet they were covered in goose bumps, as was his whole body.

The water in the washing tub was chilly, and he'd been in there for too long. With his arms crossed above his chest, the boy had managed to dip into it almost completely. He had tilted his head back, so that chin, mouth and nose were poking out, but his eyes and ears remained under the surface.

He could hear the adults talking, but the water surrounding him reduced their conversation to a muffled, meaningless background noise. For that, the boy was glad. A few minutes earlier, they had tried to talk to him – which was weird, because they were strangers.

Well, except for the gray lady. The gray lady was a neighbor, and she was nice. She had brought him a sandwich this morning, and a glass of milk, too. Mommy didn't like her and she used to scream and shout at the gray lady when ever she saw her. But Mommy wasn't here now, hadn't been here for quite a while since her friend had picked her up with his rusty truck.

At first, it wasn't too bad, and the boy enjoyed the quiet. But on the third day, he had eaten all the white bread that was left. The milk in the fridge had become clotted and when he tried to drink it, he couldn't help but spit the mouthful he'd taken on the floor. Shocked by the foul taste and the spill, he rushed outside and hid under the trailer. That's where the gray lady had found him.

She brought him breakfast and called him by his name. She was nice. She asked a lot of questions – about his mommy, and whether he owned any other clothes than his pajamas… clean clothes, she said, and… who did that, who did that, pointing at the bruises on his arms and legs – but she didn't really demand answers. She didn't try to touch him or push him around. She was nice.

She also filled his plastic tub with water, even though she couldn't know about the spilled milk in the kitchen. He didn't want to raise her suspicion, so instead of washing his clothes as usual, he just stepped in with his clothes still on. He thought himself very smart to do so. The gray lady had watched him for a while, and then she got out her phone and talked into it for what seems an eternity.

And then the strangers came. One was an elderly lady with a big black bag, the other a younger lady who wore a police uniform. The boy hadn't known that ladies could be police officers, too, but there she was. They both talked to the grey lady and to each other, then they talked to him in soft voices.

At first, he had actually made an effort to listen, although he had no idea why those people were even here or what they wanted. He only got anxious when the police lady went inside the trailer, where she undoubtedly noticed the mess he had made. She returned with a grave expression on her face and whispered something into the other woman's ear. That's when the boy finally understood what was going on.

She was here! The one with the big, black bag… that was her! Finally, the cee-pee-ess lady had come to get him. The horror he felt at his realization was so excruciating, that he escaped in the only way he could think of right then. He squeezed his eyes shut, slid down in his yellow plastic tub and let the water work its magic.

And there he stayed. And waited. They had to leave at some point, right? He could still hear them talk, but now it was as if he were wrapped in thick layers of cotton wool.

Then there were hands touching him, hands under his arm-pits, grabbing him, lifting him up, out of his liquid cocoon. The boy threw his head back, his spine bent backwards in an angle one wouldn't think possible, and gave a piercing scream that lasted and lasted, until all oxygen had left his lungs and everything went black.

Peace.

(EDWARD)

I wake with a jolt, sitting up so abruptly that the bath water swashes around vehemently. I hold on to the rims of the tub with both hands, gasping for air, while the obscure remains of a strange dream dissipate like shreds of clouds.

I fell asleep in the bath, but I know it can't have been more than just a few minutes – the water is still warm – so that's not what startled me. It's the weird feeling that someone just grabbed me and pulled me upright.

Of course, that's impossible. And I don't believe in ghosts either. But the sensation is so strong that I involuntarily check my torso for any traces... like visible hand-prints on my skin or something.

It's been a while since I've had that kind of dreams, those faceless graspernightmares that used to torture me when I was a child. I guess the talk with Esme has stressed me out more than I realized. I'm such a baby sometimes. I should get out of the water before it gets chilly. After a few deep, cleansing breaths, I grab the sponge and start lathering myself thoroughly.

To steer my mind in a more pleasant direction, I start thinking of Bella, recalling our morning together. I'm very much looking forward to tonight. I imagine myself entering the drugstore to pick her up, saying hi to Tanya – maybe exchanging a few words with her – then greeting my Bella with a small kiss on the lips. It's a nice mental image; it makes me feel confident and… normal. That's what boyfriends do. It feels right.

When I step out of the tub and grab a towel, I notice I've been quietly humming to myself for the last few minutes. I smile to myself, a warm whole-body-smile. Unconsciously, I hummed the melody that used to keep the grasper dreams in check. My voice reverberates strangely within the tile-covered walls as I repeat the lines, this time adding the lyrics.

"Just a little green like the nights
When the northern lights perform
There'll be icicles and birthday clothes
And sometimes there'll be sorrow…"

E/N:

There's a Little Green and Easybella outtake in Jasper POV up on FFnet.

Maybe you'd like to check it out?

The lovely banner was made for me by the lovely 17ForeverLisa.

www.fanfiction.net/s/8080126/1

Little Green & Easybella 28

2012-05-03T15:38:00.000-07:00

This is not just author's notes; there is a full length new LG&E chapter.

It comes in the shape of an outtake and it's brilliant.
It's what many of you have been asking for – Esme's side of the story –
and you can read it right now!

Back in Nov 2010, when this fic was just a one-shot, I got this review:

"This was beautiful. The thing that hit me as so real about it was how sensitive he was to her scent. My 9-year-old son has Aspergers, and whenever he hugs me, he sniffs me. (…) I feel like I'm seeing ten years into his future when I read this. (…)"

That's how I met SqueakyZorro.

When more and more readers said they would love an Esme POV, I immediately thought of her. I always knew that I would never write Esme, but if anyone could, it got to be her. That was months ago! I finally got my chance to ask her when I won her Fandom Gives Back one-shot auction.

So damn happy she agreed… And boy, did she deliver! She did not just write Esme, she became Esme.

Her insightful and touching LG&E outtake 'Trust' took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes.
I cannot thank her enough for how much thought and work and heart she poured into it!
Get all your questions answered, and so much more.

www.fanfiction.net/s/8019434

Please go and meet SqueakyZorro. Little Green is sending you.
Leave her your thoughts and some love. I will read every review, just saying!
Xoxo, Betti

Little Green and Easybella 27

2012-04-10T02:38:00.001-07:00

(EDWARD)

Now… God, now! We need to make love.

This is urgent. Her body, her voice, even the taste of her skin… all urgency, all need, mirroring my own. But I'm torn. My mind keeps displaying the image of Esme's card box to me, over and over. It is screaming at me to open it, and it gets louder and louder by the minute.

"Letters?" I hardly get the word out. Did I even? Hard to tell over the humming noise in my head.

She needs to agree to keep them away from me; I mustn't have them and I don't know who else to give them. I don't want to think about what stories those letters might tell any more; when all I want, all I need is her body. I can't wait to be inside of her.

"Condoms?"

Fuck, yes, and I can be inside of her; she bought condoms! She is so wonderful. Although it should have been me buying them. She smells wonderful, too. It's the boyfriend who buys condoms, is it not? I should have been more considerate. God, she smells so good. Can't she just…

"Bella, please." I want to say more, but I've said so much already, and I really don't know how else to explain myself. I lick her throat, where the heat and taste of her skin is particularly intense for some reason. I want to lick other areas of her body, too. I want to lick all of her. If only she would…

"I'll keep the letters!"

The humming stops. Yes!

Oh God yes… "I'll get the condoms."

I detach myself from her and sit up on my heels. Leaning back, I reach for the nightstand. I find Bella's purse, open it and turn it upside down, emptying its content onto the mattress. Belatedly, I notice that in doing so, I kind of invaded her privacy. I should have handed her the purse for her to get the condoms out of it, I guess?

Her most personal things are now scattered on the bed; I didn't know women carry so many and varied THINGS with them. And is that cookie crumbles there between the chap stick and the pepper spray? Where are the condoms?

"The blue package," she says, and I see it and grab it. And then I'm all over her again, with my elbows next to her face, one hand cupping the back of her head and the other clutching the small blue package. I should open it and sheath myself before I do anything else. But Bella has shoved one leg between mine and her hip is pressing against my penis, and I want to curse again, because we're moving together, grinding against each other, and it just feels too good… too good to stop. I really want to be inside of her. I don't want to come this way, but…

"Fuck, Bella, just… fuck!"

"I know, love," she whispers. "Give it to me. Let me…"

I have no idea what she's asking for, until she reaches up, groping for my hand. I'm clutching the condom pack so hard; it takes me a moment to order my fingers to release it. And then it is no longer my concern, as Bella takes over. When she brings both her hands in front of her face to open the package, I scoot down a little so I can put my mouth around one of her nipples. They are hard and pretty, and I take turns sucking and lapping at both of them.

I lick them in slow circles and make a new memory… the feel of the tiny pebbles on her areola under my tongue? I think I never noticed those before. I flick my tongue faster and faster, until Bella moans loudly and throws her head back. The paper wrapping in her hands gives way with a ripping noise and the condoms shoot out of it like little flying saucers.

One lands between her breasts, and she quickly grabs it. We both giggle breathlessly until our lips meet, and I almost choke with happiness. It keeps bubbling up inside of me… all the happiness she gives me, the love, the excitement… pouring forward, filling me up to the very tips of my fingers that are weaving through her hair. And then it all erupts in a muffled noise I release into her mouth. I groan like an animal.

My lower half is pressed against her hip so hard it almost hurts, but it's good. Only, it's not enough. I break our kiss to tell her that, but instead, I produce that noise once more. She squirms under me and pushes at my chest, so I guess I somehow told her anyway. My body responds and follows her gentle lead just like that, and I'm hovering above her on all fours before my scattered mind has even processed her intentions.

"Stay still," she says.

I barely register what she's doing with her hands down there. My consciousness is pulverized; there's only heat and want and beauty. I look into her eyes and let the beautiful confusion consume me. I'm not afraid; I know she will make me whole again. She always, always does.

Mere fragments of thought rise and waft though my mind, like small pieces of paper in the sparking breath of an open fire, each one briefly flaring up before they curl at the edges and tumble down and fall apart…

The condom, yes. Her touch. There, oh God, there… I stay still, like she asked me to. I look at her face. Her eyelids are cast down, her gaze trained on where her fingers are working, and… oh, fuck!

I look at her and I stay still, and she doesn't say it but… there you go, right? There you go…is it done? Am I… are we…? Oh God.

"Bella…"

Did she hear me? She looks up at me and… just please… I hope she doesn't want me to go slow! I need to be…

"… inside…"

…of her now! I can't do slow and I can't stay still anymore. Now, please now… can I? Her hand on my cheek, warm, loving, caring. I feel grounded for a moment and close my eyes. Where's her other hand?

My thoughts keep dancing and dying in the fiery breeze, but now as I lean my face into Bella's palm with my eyes closed, they do so in slow motion. Where's her other hand? My arms are shaking. How much time do we have left? Can I just… or… will I hurt her if…? She's wet already, right? I open my eyes. I look into hers. I find my voice.

"Can I push in now?"

Please. I love you.

"Yes," she breathes. Her eyes seem to melt. Her thumb grazes my lower lip. "Yes, you beautiful, beautiful man…"

She tells me I'm beautiful. I want to laugh because that's so absurd. I want to moan because it's beyond arousing that she thinks me beautiful. I do both. And then I just moan when I reach down between us, and there's her other hand… between her own legs, collecting some of her own wetness and coating my… the condom…

"Fuck, Bella!"

"Yes, please," she whispers. "I want to feel you."

My arms are shaking violently now; I sink down on my elbows. Better. I put my hands underneath her shoulders and just hold her and let her guide me to her entrance.

My hips buck but I don't slide home. Instead of getting inside, my penis just slips between her lips, all the way up until the tip brushes over the soft mound above. She's so wet, so wet…

My need to be inside her increases tenfold. I pull back to try again, but she cries out, "Oh God, yes, again!"

I don't know what she's asking, but my hips are moving anyway. There's no stopping it any more, and I cannot go slow. I just can't. I'm thrusting away, and her hand is still there, still slick… everything is slick and hot.

Her hand is now firmly placed between her thighs, leaving just a little space for the tip of my erection to glide in between her palm and her slit. And I can tell from the noises that mingle with her breathing that I am stroking her clitoris with each movement, and she likes it.

And I like it, too. And then again, not. It's frustrating and exciting and frustrating and… I know I'm going to come. Faster and faster I go, mesmerized by the look in her eyes and the way her upper lip pulls back and bares her teeth. Her breasts are bouncing beautifully with each of my thrusts. We're both getting really vocal… no words, just noises and moans. I don't even know if I really want to be inside of her any more. But yes, I do… I think?

"Edward," she pants, and her eyes go wide.

Yes, fuck yes… my Bella, my love… so much yes! Harder, faster, almost there. I love what I'm doing to her; I love it! I'm giving her pleasure, and it's beautiful and frustrating and driving me crazy.

"Don't stop," she grinds out through clenched teeth. "Don't fucking stop!"

I don't want to stop, but this won't last much longer. There's a trembling bead of sweat stuck at the tip of my nose. It falls down and Bella closes her eyes just in time before it hits her lid. I almost lose it, and then…

"Edward, you're gonna make me come" she cries and archs her back. "Coming… oh God… Edward, now! Fuck me!" My insides go up in flames. This is it…

Her hand closes the gap; her fingers press down where she's swollen and pink and even wetter now, and with my next thrust I'm suddenly inside and feel her clamp around me. I can't even pull back once more. I'm inside, and my legs, my backside, all my muscles tense and I pulse and throb and spill myself inside her, again and again… and again…

I don't make a sound; I don't breathe. I cannot move and I cannot breathe. I can only feel, with every cell of my body, with every fiber of my being.

I can only feel. I can only be.

When the pulsating ceases, I suck in some air like an almost drowning man who just made it to the surface at the very last moment. And when I release it again, it carries the sound that means love and life and everything good in the world.

"Bella…"

We make it just in time. I might have broken the speed limit a few times on the way, but I really wanted to drop Bella off at work punctually. However, we kind of ruin my effort by prolonging our good bye. She stays in the car, and between kisses, we tell each other in whispered words how wonderful our morning together has been, that we will miss each other during the day, and that we can't wait to be together again tonight.

I promise to never again forget to pick her up, and she says it's okay. I apologize for pestering her about the letters, and she says it's okay, too. I don't think she really understands my reasons, and it feels like a rift between our souls that she doesn't share my attitude about this. But there's nothing we can do about that now. And she is supportive nonetheless, so that'll have to do for now.

When she finally leaves the car, I wait until she's safely inside the store. I watch her having a quick exchange of words with Tanya; Bella swats her playfully and then they both laugh and look in my direction through the window. Tanya winks at me and Bella shakes her head and blushes. I wave at them, and then I drive off.

I have been thinking about Esme and the letters all morning. I woke up early to the warmth and smell of Bella next to me, and I knew I wanted to wake up like this every day for the rest of my life.

She was lying on her side, with her back to me and her hair fanned out on the pillow. And all I wanted to do then was revel in the moment, the sight and feel of her as she lay sleeping beside me, the love… always the love. So much feeling, so much love.

I wanted to look at her and maybe file through the painfully wonderful, exciting memories we both had created in the last few days, and pick one and replay it. I wanted to feel that blissful heat in my stomach and everywhere, the pull, the burning. And then I wanted to wake her up and let my hands and my mouth speak to her skin… and love her… and make more memories; those could never be taken away.

That's what I wanted. But it didn't work. The moment was tainted by the anguish I felt about how it was between Esme and I right now; my thoughts went there against my will, again and again. Like acid, it slowly ate its way through my peace of mind, perforating it to the point where I started to feel dizzy from fighting the images of letters and Esme and the fucked up family dinner – from fighting my anger.

I hate being angry. I hate the way it churns the stomach, and I hate the way it turns reasonable thinking upside down. It's almost like it has a mind of its own, invading, disrupting, making this mess inside my head. I will never understand how people can willingly hold a grudge toward someone for a long time, instead of doing everything and anything to make it stop. Don't they feel miserable?

Well, I did. Looking at the wonder before me, my sleeping girlfriend, and not being able to feel just love without the boiling heat of anger creeping its way into my thoughts made me feel incredibly miserable. It gave me ideas and images I seriously didn't want to see, and it raised questions and doubts I didn't want to process.

I even started getting mad at Bella for a second… she had been the older one, the stronger one, the normal one, the one capable of speaking and arguing! Why didn't she press Esme harder? Why did she believe Esme so easily? Why did she give up on me so soon?

What would I learn if I read the letters she had written? Did I really want to know? Maybe Esme had held them back to spare me the hurt. What if…?

My breath quickened with the rising misgivings; they made my stomach roll. Feeling anger towards your person, towards the one you love is the most horrible thing. I couldn't stand it. It was so agonizing that my chest constricted with a pained moan I could barely stifle.

No, no, no! I knew she had missed me; she said so. I knew she had never come to know how I had been begging for her to talk to me; those letters were all still sealed. I knew she loved me. I knew, I knew… and yet the anger and confusion wouldn't cease. And I wanted it to go away so badly.

Desperately, I leaned my forehead against her shoulder and whispered her name. She didn't wake up, but turned her head and rubbed her temple against my hair. Even in her sleep, she was responding to my touch, and as if that was all the answer I needed, the anger stopped. But the thoughts didn't.

So I decided to get up and make breakfast for us. I wanted to wake Bella early enough to sit down with me so we could talk. I needed to get the poison out of my system. I wanted to make peace with Esme, so I would be free to enjoy all the good that has come into my life.

I am home. I have my own place. I have a job that allows me to do what I love; rehearsals will begin next week, and I need a clear mind for that, too.

I have a girlfriend, and not any girlfriend – I have Bella. My Bella. And wasn't it Esme who gave her to me in the first place? She brought her into my life and let her become my Easybella, and whatever madness it was that made her keep us apart, I cannot believe she meant any harm. And maybe I had done my part, too? It's not like I had talked a lot as a child to make my needs understood, right?

And Carlisle… just when I feel like I'm finally getting somewhere with him, that shit had to happen and drive us apart again? This mustn't be. It's not worth it.

I have a family, and it's a precious gift. Not everyone is that lucky; I of all people should remember that. I have a family and a girlfriend I love. I even made a friend, if you want to call Tanya that. I think she's a friend. I have all that, and I should feel blessed and happy, instead of angry and doubtful.

What good does it do to feel angry? I have Bella back, so all's good in the end. And the past cannot be changed anyway. Both Esme and I are hurting; that has to stop first of all. We need to sort out the how's and why's, but later… much later. First we must stop the hurt and the anger.

I know that the ball is in my court. Neither Bella nor my parents will do anything or press me about the matter. They will be waiting for me to come around like always, right?

'At my own pace' as they used to say, meaning well but not realizing how much responsibility they always loaded onto me with that. How can you go at your own pace when their well-being is so clearly linked to your progress? It had never really been my own pace…

But it is what it is. I will take the responsibility; because if I don't, the situation will remain as it is for too long to not cause more damage. And I won't have it that way. Now that I know love, I want to love. No drama in my life.

It's all up to me, right?

Around eleven a.m., I have finally unpacked all my bags that were still untouched since the day of my arrival. I have done the laundry and cleaned the kitchen. I've made the bed but haven't changed the sheets because I like that they smell of love. I've dusted off the piano and vacuumed the carpet. Also, I have successfully fought back three minor anxiety attacks.

At 11:30, I call Bella. She makes me wait four rings before she answers, and I'm close to hyperventilating again.

"Edward?"

I breathe a sigh of relief at the sound of her voice.

"Edward, is something wrong? Why are you calling?"

Shit, I didn't say anything. Talking over the phone is still the hardest thing, even with Bella. I seriously need more practice.

"I just wanted to know whether you're okay."

I hear her snicker. "Edward, I am at work. Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"I don't know." I just had a feeling. I'm being irrational.

I can hear voices in the background. Of course, there are customers and Bella is probably busy. I shouldn't have called. I suck at it anyway. It's so annoying that phone calls still scare me. I suck when it's all reduced to words and a soulless technical device to transport them. Words bear too much power when they travel on their own.

"Edward, would you please say something? I'm getting worried here; are you all right?"

Shit, I didn't mean to make her worry. Even the lack of words has the power to produce unfortunate results when words are all you have.

"I need to get back to work. Please say something, Edward. Do you need anything? Should I –"

"I love you."

There's a moment of silence, except for the mumbling in the background. Then she says, "I love you, too." I can hear her smile, and I smile back at her even though she can't see me.

"I'm all right," I say. And because I know how much I suck on the phone, I add, "I'm smiling now, just so you know."

"That's good, love. I'm smiling, too."

"I know."

"Okay, see you later then?"

"Later then." I can't wait. "I'll pick you up."

"I can't wait," she says, repeating my thought, and hangs up. I'm smiling even more. I like it.

Well, that wasn't too bad. I think about what to do next for a minute, then I press the only other speed dial I have on my cell. This time, my call is answered after the first ring.

I don't wait for her to say anything. And I use her secret name to let her know right away that things will be all right and that I mean it.

"Mom, we need to talk."

Little Green and Easybella 26

2012-04-10T02:36:00.002-07:00

(BELLA)

I can only remember one time in my life when I woke up in a blink, without so much as a mental backward glance on a night's sleep. Like, you know, just opening my eyes and wham – new day!

I remember it was the night before Christmas when I was ten years old. I had been so incredibly excited that sleeping seemed to be impossible, and I lay in my bed, wide-awake. And suddenly, I opened my eyes and it was morning, and I couldn't even remember falling asleep.

Today is the same… instant awareness. I'm absolutely not a morning person, so this total lack of doziness is pretty damn special for me. I try to recall when and how I fell asleep last night, but to no avail. All I know is, it is Wednesday morning, I'm chipper as hell, this is Edward's bedroom and Edward's bed – sans Edward – and someone is moving around outside of this room.

Which is probably Edward, and he is probably in the kitchen, judging from the nature of those occasional little noises.

There's no alarm clock in this room; at least I can't see one. I have no idea what time it is, but it doesn't bother me. I know, Edward has a built in clock… well, usually anyway. Yesterday's spillage-induced episode doesn't count.

I get up from the bed, quite jauntily, and pick my tee shirt off of the floor. I scan the area around my naked feet, but for some reason, my panties seem to have left without so much as leaving a note. With a shrug, I put the tee on and pull its hem down as far as it goes, which is barely mid-ass, but hey… it's just Edward and me here. And is that freshly brewed coffee I smell?

Following the quiet clanking and clattering, I tip-toe to the kitchen. When I poke my head through the door crack, I smile at the sight before me and the warm tingling in the stomach it gives me.

Edward making breakfast, totally immersed in his task.

And totally naked.

And totally gorgeous.

I take a deep breath and when I release it, it comes out in an audible sigh. Startled, I quickly cover my mouth with my hand, but Edward didn't hear me over the gurgle of the coffeemaker. He doesn't turn around but keeps on working smoothly and methodically, fetching plates, bowls and mugs from the cupboard, and arranging them on the counter in pairs.

I love the way his back muscles flex each time he reaches up; I think I could watch this all day. I even love the scattered moles on his back, if only because without them he would be ridiculously immaculate. He is just so beautifully made, tall and lean. My eyes fixate on the faint tan line at his small hips and the cute dimples above his bottom.

He's got a pretty butt, not one of those flat man-asses with hollow buttocks. His cheeks are nicely rounded and firm, and I think about how soft the light hair on them feels under my palms. I lean my head against the doorframe and another sigh escapes me.

Jesus Christ, am I really standing here, contemplating the qualities of male butt cheeks?

Finally noticing my presence, Edward turns around. I need to avert my gaze from his lower half, or else I'll be contemplating penis qualities next. Our eyes connect and he freezes.

"Bella…"

"Hey there," I say. I open the door fully and finally move the rest of me into the kitchen, too.

"You're awake."

"Well, yes." I smile at him, but he stays put, a slightly displeased expression on his face.

"I'm making breakfast," he states the obvious.

"I can see that." Jeez, what's with the frown?

"You're not supposed to be up yet."

"Am I not?"

Nervously, he starts messing with his hair. "I wanted to surprise you, but now..." he trails off, at a loss.

I slowly walk over to him. "But I am surprised; this is so sweet of you," I assure him. "You want me to go back to bed until you're done?"

His hands reach for my hips as soon as I'm close enough. "No," he whispers.

I can't help the chuckle. "Need some help? I'll just go and put my panties on." If I can find them, that is.

"No." He pulls me closer and... oh, hello! Someone's waking up down there.

"Good morning, Bella."

I wrap my arms around him and nuzzle his neck. "Good morning to you, too. Did you mean 'no, I don't need help' or did you mean, 'no, don't put panties on'?"

"Both."

He closes his eyes and tilts his head, inviting me to take advantage of the now completely exposed area of skin, which I shamelessly do, nibbling and kissing. Man, this jawline is killing me; I feel the urge to bite down, but I resist. I think I've scored the most gorgeous boyfriend on the planet.

He turns his head a little further to the side, clearly enjoying my caresses. "I'm happy that you're up," he almost purrs.

I can feel his happiness press into my stomach. His hands reach around to cup my behind, and my girly bits are about to start weeping because of being left out of the party.

"And I like that you're not wearing your panties," he says softly, and after a moment of deliberating he adds, "…baby."

Weeping! Girly bits… definitely weeping now… good Lord!

"So what are we going to do now?" I ask somewhat shakily.

He reluctantly breaks away from me to look me in the eyes. "You just sit down and let me serve you breakfast; it will be ready in a few minutes. Or you can grab a shower, if you'd like. What would you like to eat? Do you like cereal? I can make scrambled eggs, or…"

"Actually, I never have breakfast before leaving for work. I usually have a quick snack at the drugstore before we open. This is a bit overwhelming, to be honest. I don't even know if my stomach can manage solid food this early."

"Oh…" Cue Little Green signature frown.

"But the coffee smells wonderful," I hurry to say. "Can I have some of that?"

Immediately, his face lights up with a happy smile. "Yes, sure!"

Without further ado, he grabs me by my shoulders, gently turns me around, and then puts his arms around my middle. Holding me close, my back flush to his chest, he starts moving. I squeal with surprise as he duck-walks me over to the kitchen table, peppering my neck with kisses along the way. Giggling and stumbling, we awkwardly shuffle through the short distance, fortunately without accident.

I love this so much about Little Green... that he doesn't dwell on the fact that I practically rejected his sweet gesture. With Jake, a situation like this would have evoked a snarky retort on his behalf, most likely followed by a few days of silent treatment.

But, not Edward. I absolutely adore his ability to let go of his disappointment just so, processing the information given and moving on happily. And that's exactly what he's doing now.

As soon as I'm seated, Edward gets to work. He takes the two mugs he had placed on the counter earlier and puts them next to the coffeemaker, which finally has stopped sounding like Darth Vader having an anxiety attack. Before proceeding with the coffee though, and much to my amusement, he methodically sorts all of the other dishes back into the cupboard.

Of course... that's so him!

I smile to myself. And I thoroughly enjoy watching him clearing the space of the no longer required items. I love how he is so uninhibited, innocently walking around in all his naked glory, as if totally unaware of his fully erect cock bouncing with every step. I squeeze my legs together under the table.

Girly bits... more weeping... damn!

When everything is finally to his satisfaction, he pours us two coffees and brings them over to the table. Before he can put the mugs down, I rise from my chair, stopping him in his tracks.

"Edward..."

Following my gaze with his eyes, he looks down at himself and sighs. "It just won't go away," he mumbles apologetically. "I can't help it when you're around. I cannot will it away, you know."

He swallows noisily. I raise my head in time to find him looking at me again. "Here's your coffee," he says, all business, and hands me the steaming mug. I take it from him with both hands as if I'm on autopilot and draw in a sharp breath.

"Careful, it's hot."

No shit!

I quickly turn the mug in my fingers to grab it by the handle, as Edward continues unperturbed, "Also, when you smell like making love, I just cannot stop thinking about making love to you."

I gape at him.

"And Bella, right now, you do smell very much like making love. It messes with my mind."

"Well, I cannot help it either," I whisper, blushing. "When you're around and we're close like this, it just happens."

"I know," he says, and for some reason those two simple words make my breathing speed up.

"Is it bad that I don't want either of us to do anything about it? Because I don't want to. Not really. I just... I don't want this to stop, the excitement, your scent... I don't want it to stop. But you need to get ready for work soon."

I take a deep breath. "Soon. But not now."

"Twenty-seven minutes until your normal wake-up time."

See? Built-in clock.

"I could skip the shower."

He thinks about it for a moment. "Thirty-seven then."

I nod my head yes. "And dry blowing my hair takes ten minutes, too. No shower, no wet hair."

"Forty-seven."

"And other than the bus, you won't have to stop a dozen times on the way. If you're driving me, we'll gain another fifteen minutes. That's an hour, give or take."

He releases a shattered breath and blinks rapidly a few times. Then he just stares at me, with his brows knit together and open-mouthed. It's that kind of 'does she mean what I'm thinking she means?' stare, and I chuckle quietly. We're probably producing quite an odd sight, facing each other in our naked and in my case half-naked state, both of us holding – and totally neglecting - a coffee in one hand.

Speaking of which, the mug in Edward's hand starts shaking somewhat dangerously. In fact, all of Edward is swaying back and forth a little at this point. The premonition of an impending spillage accident makes me grab his wrist to steady him. I'm not taking chances here!

"Why don't we just go back to bed," I whisper, trying to sound seductive, and he finally snaps out of his trance-like condition and steps a little closer to me. When the tip of his erect cock brushes against my stomach, he flinches at the sudden contact, and a bit of his coffee splashes over and down to the tile floor.

Oh. Fuck.

Edward looks down at the small, brown-ish pools and freezes, breathing heavily through his nose, and I internally brace myself for his reaction. Crap, this was so not supposed to happen…

Not taking his eyes off of the floor, he suddenly speaks. "An hour?" he asks.

I nod my head yes, although I know that he can't see it, but I'm too much in shock to answer him verbally. I'm just holding my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Bella," he breathes and slowly lifts his head. The gaze of his green eyes is intense and eerily calm as he licks his lips and says, "I want to go back to bed with you."

Okay…

Mechanically, I nod my head once more.

Wait… what?

"What?" I squeak.

Instead of answering me, he jumps into action like a sprinter at the starting shot. The still untouched coffee is ripped from my hand and is disposed of in the sink together with its twin brother before I can even blink twice. Then Edward is on his knees in front of me, wiping frantically at the floor tiles with a kitchen towel.

It only takes him a few seconds to remove the puddles, just enough time for me to notice that inspite of the loathsome spillage accident, he's still sporting an impressive erection. In practically no time, he is on his feet again.

After peering at the kitchen floor one last time, he takes my hand and I find myself being dragged towards the bathroom, where the soaked kitchen towel gets a free flight into the laundry basket. Then he turns around to face me. His gaze wanders up and down my body a few times, and I feel my cheeks heat up under his scrutiny.

What the hell…?

"Take the shirt off," he suddenly says, and I blush even more at his surprisingly commanding tone. This is new and… kind of hot, and more so when he contradicts himself next by adding a soft, "please."

A new wave of want washes over me and I'm getting almost uncomfortably wet down there. I only notice that I am staring at his beautiful hard-on, unmoving, when he gets impatient with me.

"Please take it off," he pleads and points a finger at my tummy. "There's coffee on it."

"Oh!" My eyes snap to where he's pointing. "I didn't notice."

And here I was thinking…

Once more I feel my blood flooding my cheeks, this time for a totally different reason. Damn! He just wants to get rid of the spillage evidence, a continuation of his cleaning frenzy in the kitchen. What's next? Doing laundry together?

On the other hand, I should be glad he took the accident so well this time. He doesn't seem to be upset which is good, right? And I have to hand it to him, he cleaned up the mess quickly and thoroughly. He dealt with it instead of freaking out. But seriously, I don't now how much more of those OCD buzzkillers I can take. I really wish I'd had at least a sip of the coffee.

"Bella…" His velvet voice right next to my ear jolts me out of my musings, and I start at his sudden proximity. "Bella, it doesn't matter. Just take it off, please. I want to take you to my bed so badly."

When I look up at him, all unpleasant considerations dissolve into thin air. His green eyes are smoldering, and all I can see in them is adoration and yes… a certain hunger, too, laced with impatience.

"Please?" He reaches for the hem of the teeshirt. "Allow me," he says, and I raise my arms and let him lift the fabric over my head, leaving me naked. Just as naked as he is. He half turns around, aiming at the laundry basket, and sends the tee flying.

Before it has even hit its destination, Edward's mouth is on mine and his erection nudges my belly. My lips part of their own volition and, when our tongues meet, my stomach explodes in liquid heat so intense that my knees buckle under me. My eager boyfriend's strong arms are the only things keeping me from sinking down to the floor with blissful weakness.

He breaks the kiss, and we both gasp in need for some air. I only manage to take one deep breath before he cups the back of my head with his hand and buries my face in the crook of his neck. With one arm still tightly wound around my waist, he almost crushes me against his form. His breathing is erratic and hot in my hair when he starts what I immediately recognize as one of those new Little Green word vomits.

"You smell so good, so good. And your skin... Bella, I cannot think when you feel and smell like that. My mind goes all wobbly and my thoughts are wobbly, too. No, they are like fringed... frayed thoughts, and I don't even mind. It's like being in shock, but different because I'm not afraid and I don't want it to stop. Ever. I'm burning inside, aching… but it's a good burning, and a sweet aching, and…"

His death grip on me loosens up a little, and I'm glad to find that, against expectations, my slightly shaky legs still carry me. He cups my face with both hands and presses his forehead against mine.

"…every so often I try to produce the sensation, even when you're not around. I think of you, or of you and me together. I close my eyes and think of something we did, like when I had my mouth on you in my parents' house or… when you touched me. And it works. When I think of you – of us – I can make myself feel the burning, like an electric jolt, only slower, you know what I mean?"

"Yes," I whisper breathlessly. "I do the same, love. Over and over."

"But it doesn't last, right? It never lasts long enough; it's not the real thing. It's just a memory-burn, and I'm afraid to wear it off, if I keep replaying my memories of us too often. Also, it's not the same at all… it's not like when you're really touching me; it's just a shadow of what I'm feeling when you're with me like you are now."

"I know."

"Please touch me," he moans. "Touch me, Bella, please…"

I notice that I haven't moved at all since he started talking. My arms are hanging limply from my shoulders like the arms of a ragdoll, and that needs to change! I put my hands on his sides, stroking his hipbones with my thumbs.

Edward draws in a sharp breath at my touch, and his stomach muscles clench. He closes his eyes and exhales a shuddering, "yesss…" Still leaning against me with our foreheads touching, his hands on my cheeks start moving, caressing my face ever so gently.

"Bella, I love you so much; I cannot think straight. I want to make love to you so badly."

Mesmerized, I watch a small bead of pre-cum form at the tip of his cock. I reach down and gingerly push back the soft foreskin, then spread the moisture over the swollen head. Edward flinches and all but whimpers, the sound going straight to my core. There's not much room for me to maneuver, what with him standing so close to me, but somehow I manage to wrap my hand around his length and give him a single slow stroke.

With a low groan, he throws his head back and pushes his hips forward. I continue pumping him as best as I can in the confined space between our bodies, loving the heat and the velvety texture of his skin under my palm. And Edward's face is a sight to behold, with his features contorted in pleasure and panting through his open mouth. My clit starts to throb in time with my racing heart.

Suddenly his arms are around me again, effectively immobilizing my hand between us. His head falls heavy onto my shoulder.

"Bella," he moans. "I cannot… I need to curse."

"You do?"

"Fuck, yes!"

God, he is so adorable!

We stay still for a moment, while he quietly utters a few more 'fucks', throwing in one or two 'shits' for good measure. Our breathing slows down a little, and eventually the string of muttered expletives stops. Still holding me tight, with my hand trapped between our bodies, he starts rubbing his forehead back and forth against my neck and shoulder.

"I'm so sorry I forgot to pick you up yesterday," he suddenly says.

Wow, that's quite a topic change…

"Oh no, don't even –" I try to interject, but he's on a roll again.

"No, listen. Things are different now. Since the moment you knew that you… God, it's so hard to think; you smell so good!" He firmly grabs my behind and rolls his hips, grinding against me. "When you said that you love me, something… kind of… shifted, you know. A big change, and it's permanent and now I… shit, why is this so hard?"

He loosens his hold on me and I take the opportunity to try and wiggle my hand free, but he stops me. "Please don't," he whispers and moves his hips forward, gently thrusting into my fist. Then he stills again.

Jesus Christ...!

"Edward, I'm not sure I can keep up with you right now."

"I know. I'm sorry, it's just… you see, those letters that Esme kept…"

What the hell?

"I thought about it and I don't want to read them. Not yet anyway. Because I'm scared that if I do, maybe I won't be able to forgive her. And I want to forgive her!"

I gasp. Seriously?

"No, hear me out. Please, this is… I mean, we are here and I love you and you love me back, so…"

He wants to forgive Esme? Just like that? And are we actually having this conversation while I'm more or less giving him a hand-job?

"We're okay, aren't we?" he asks and looks up at me, needing reassurance.

So I nod and tell him 'Yes, we are', involuntarily giving his cock a little squeeze, as if for further confirmation. He gasps out another 'fuck' and crashes his lips on mine in a searing kiss that temporarily drowns most of my coherent thinking.

Much too soon for my liking, he pulls back. Once more our foreheads touch as we're both trying to regain some composure. His eyes are closed, but he isn't done talking yet; there's more. Somewhere in the back of my mind I'm wondering how much of our stolen hour we've already spent. And where the fuck were we anyway?

"I need you to keep the letters for me, so I won't read them."

Oh, yes. Letters. Esme.

"Because we're okay, and Bella, you make me want to be a better person, a loving person. I want to be a good boyfriend and a good son, too. And I'm losing my mind right now because I want to lick you and taste that scent of yours on my tongue. Will you keep those letters for me?"

Huh?

"I need to work things out with Esme. I hate what she did, but I hate how it is between us now more, and… fuck, Bella, what are doing to me?"

Yes, what am I doing to him?

He opens his eyes to look down between us, and a deep groan rumbles through his chest. I follow his gaze to where my hands are… yes, both of my hands. One is still stroking his twitching cock; the other has disappeared between my own legs, moving in the same slow rhythm. When did that happen?

Reflexively, I pull my hand away from where I'm rubbing myself, but Edward snatches it mid-pull and brings it to his mouth. His lips close around my index and middle finger that are coated with my arousal, and his Northern light eyes bore into mine as he hollows his cheeks and moans around my digits.

"Oh God, Edward…"

This is it; I can't take it any more!

"Please, I want you inside of me," I practically whimper.

With a cry, he releases my fingers. "Fuck, yes… a thousand times… fuck!"

His hips thrust forward so fiercely that I lose my grip on him and my hand lands on his stomach. I can feel his tensed-up abs flutter under my palm. In fact, he is shaking head to toe now. Or is it me?

"I bought condoms," I blurt. "They're in my purse, in the bedroom."

That's all it takes. For someone who claims to have trouble thinking around me, his reaction time is quite remarkable. In one swift move, he scoops me up with one arm around my shoulders and the other under the back of my knees, and heads for the bedroom.

I hang on to him with my arms around his neck. And I don't let go as we plonk down onto the bed together, with the mattress bouncing underneath us. In no time, I'm on my back with Edward on top of me… with Edward everywhere on top of me, kissing, licking, undulating and grinding against me.

I'm really glad now that I brought myself to buy my first pack of condoms ever yesterday. Maybe I should have considered purchasing them somewhere else than Denali's; I really would have been just fine without Tanya's advice on the matter of safe sex, penis sizes and the benefits of banana-flavored latex. But nothing of that matters now.

"Baby," I pant, "please, I don't want to wait… my purse, on the nightstand…"

He runs the flat of his tongue along my throat, as if he hasn't heard me. His breath comes in short puffs, hot against my skin. "Letters?" he asks hoarsely.

What the hell? Sweet Jesus…!

"Condoms?" I give back.

"Bella, please."

For fuck's sake…

"I'll keep the letters!"

"I'll get the condoms."

Oh, thank fuck…

Little Green & Easybella 25

2012-02-11T15:10:00.000-08:00

(BELLA)

"Will you stay with me tonight?" he whispers so low, if I didn't feel his breath fanning my neck I could not even tell if he actually uttered anything. It's the first thing he has said since we have snuggled up to each other in his three quarter bed, sans clothes.

Well, come to think of it, I didn't speak much either. I was touched when he told me that he trusts me, but I didn't really know how to respond. His sudden declaration seemed a little disjointed. It's not like I'm taking his trust for granted, but the way he made it sound as if he just had an epiphany of sorts was surprising, to say the least. But then again, when did Edward ever not surprise me?

He didn't mean to launch any discussion anyway. He just got up from the bench and headed for the bedroom, clasping the heavy comforter around his hips with one hand and dragging it along behind himself like the train of a robe. I followed him, glad at not having to think of a smart reply. And the silence wasn't uncomfortable at all.

We made a stop at the fridge where he drank a glass of orange juice in one go. I admired the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he threw his head back and downed the last gulps of the much needed liquid. In his bedroom, he immediately crawled onto the mattress and turned around to settle back against the headboard.

Then he just looked at me, the green orbs of his eyes shining in his otherwise downright blank face. He neither offered a smile, nor were there any more signs of his earlier dismay. He just patiently waited for me to follow suit and get naked like I had said I would.

He kept his eyes trained on me while I stripped in front of him. There was nothing sexual about the situation and I didn't make a show of it. I had found him bare and vulnerable like a lost soul in the dark, and getting naked myself just seemed to be the right thing to do... like you would instinctively crouch down in front of a crying child to get at eye level with them as you soothe them.

Once I was rid of all my clothes, he wordlessly lifted the comforter to invite me in. When I climbed into the bed, he slid down and shoved the only pillow under my head before nestling up to me. With a heartfelt sigh bordering on a moan, he pulled me close and buried his face in the crook of my neck. I gently held his head, occasionally toying with a lock of his hair as I waited for him to get ready to speak.

Apparently, now is the time.

"Yes, I'd like to stay with you," I answer his question. "Are you warmer now?"

"Much," he replies. "Inside and out."

Hearing him say that makes me smile. With him, I know it's not just a shallow word play.

"Good. Will you tell me now what happened today?"

"Yes." Abruptly, he slips out from under my arm and sits up. "I think we should look at each other when I'm telling you, so you can see that I'm... sincere."

I prop myself up on one elbow. "I know you are sincere, Edward," I assure him.

"Okay." He nods thoughtfully, and that signature crease between his brows deepens as he tries to get his thoughts into order. This is so very Little Green.

"Don't stress yourself over how to begin," I encourage. "Just start anywhere you want. I'm sure I can keep up."

"Spillage," he blurts. "I can't stand it."

(A TRAILER PARK... SOMEWHERE, 1998)

The four-year-old boy was squatting under the trailer, naked except for a sweaty pajama top. His little hands were resting on his knees, and his earnest green eyes rested on his hands. He liked to look at them even though they were sore and pink; he liked the symmetry.

He was careful not to bend his fingers, so as not to make the lesions burst and bleed again. Being still was no trouble for him; it was easy. He had been in this crouching position for the last thirty minutes, unmoving and watching his tiny knuckles slowly scab. Now he waited for them to heal. The boy knew his hands would heal eventually, just like they had the last time and the time before. He just couldn't remember how long it would take; any sense of time was beyond him.

He could hear the sound of the TV blaring through the open trailer window. It was some stupid dialogue from a stupid sitcom, mingled with those fake eruptions of laughter. He didn't catch the words, but hearing those voices babble on meant that his mommy was planted safely on the couch, which in turn meant she wouldn't come looking for him for quite a while.

Maybe she wouldn't even come looking for him before his hands had healed? That would be awesome. Or maybe she would get tired again, like she often did when she drank many bottles of those mommy-only-juices. In that case she wouldn't even remember he was there, which would be really, really awesome.

He would just wait down here until dark, peacefully and in silence. He had no sense of time, but he knew that by the time it gets dark his pajama bottoms would be dry and they all would be safe again... if the cee-pee-ess lady came, she would see nothing.

He didn't know who the cee-pee-ess lady was, but he was very afraid of her nonetheless. She was his very own version of the monster in the closet, because he knew that she could show up any time and take him away. Because that's what she did with filthy little retards like him who still wet their pants or couldn't drink a single glass of milk without spilling on their clothes. His mommy told him so.

"When the CPS lady gets wind of you filthy little bug, she will come and take you away, and it will be your own fault."

And that's why she always made him wash his clothes immediately, so the cee-pee-ess lady wouldn't see the mess he made. Mommy even had a special plastic tub that she'd fill with cold water and soap, and then she would stand by and watch him scrubbing and rubbing at the fabric between his small fists, all the while railing at him.

"Once the CPS lady sees you, she will take you to the asylum where they lock in all the filthy kids. They will be mean to you, you know? And what will you say to them, huh? Oh right, you won't say a thing. Little Mr. Spillage is too dumb to speak..."

Most of the time, her words didn't even make sense to the boy, and not just because she was usually slurring. Words just didn't make much sense to him in general. But he had caught enough to be truly afraid of the cee-pee-ess lady and the asylum, and so he kept scrubbing with numb fingers until she declared she was sick and tired of watching him and finally left him alone.

For now he was safe. He was comfortable here in his hiding place. His pajama bottoms were clean and almost dry, his knuckles were scabbed-over and healing. Also, mommy's friend wouldn't return today, which was good, too. Because the only times the boy would still wet his pants were the times when mommy's friend was around... especially when mommy's friend poked his little arm and laughed like he had done this morning.

"I asked you a question, you little maggot, answer me!"

But the boy couldn't remember hearing any question, and even if he had, he wouldn't have known how to answer.

After that the friend had got into a fight with mommy like always, and the boy somehow understood it was about him, which was one more reason for the cee-pee-ess lady to take him away. That was when he felt it, hot and wet, running down his legs.

But mommy's friend wouldn't return today. So it was all good. Tired and exhausted from willing his fingers to heal, the boy finally gave in to the growing fatigue and rolled onto his side, carefully keeping his hands on his knees. He was sure they'd be whole again when he woke up.

(BELLA)

All the fuss about a spilled milkshake? Really?

"Why can't you stand it?

He shrugs. "I don't really know. I always hated it. It just freaks me out; I don't remember why."

"I thought you never forget things."

"I forgot you," he says remorsefully.

"Yes, but we know why that happened and that it wasn't..." I falter, trying to fight back the anger welling up as I think of Esme's betrayal and that card box full of letters. "It was a very extreme situation."

"Yes," he agrees. "And I remember everything now. Everything."

I smile at him. "That makes me very happy."

"But there's a certain... threshold in my memory, some point in time where my remembering starts. It's like a barrier and I somehow cannot look back past it. My earliest memory is from when I was six. Anything before that is just... gone, so... I don't know... it's weird."

"That's ok. Many people have little to no memories of their early childhood."

"I just don't want you to think that I'm holding anything back from you."

He looks so troubled that soothing him with another platitude like 'it's ok' and 'I don't mind' is really tempting, but I know he is serious about this.

So I say, "I appreciate that; thank you."

To my delight, I am rewarded with a timid smile and a kiss on the cheek.

"You're welcome," he whispers, and I'm melting a little inside.

I cup his face to steal a kiss on the mouth from him, and his lips and tongue respond without hesitation. I should be used to it by now, but the sudden rush of heat and blissful weakness that kissing Edward evokes in me takes me once again by surprise. I even let go a pathetic little whimper when he breaks the kiss and straightens up again. Geez...

"Maybe one day you can talk to someone professional, you know, to help you recover those early memories?" I manage to ask when my wits return after a few deep breaths.

"I'm not sure I want that."

Okay...

I clear my throat. "So, it was all about the spilled milkshake?"

"In part, yes. I felt like freaking out and the first thing I thought to do was to go home and get rid off the sticky clothes. But there was more -"

"Wait," I cut in as a sudden flashback hits me. "I recall something about you and uhm... spillage, I think. Do you remember the day I when I almost had a heart attack because I thought you had drowned in the pool?"

He gasps. "You thought I had drowned? No, I... when?"

"I hadn't kept my eyes on you for just a second or so, I don't know. We were in the garden that day. Anyway, when I looked up, you were gone. And your clothes were lying in a heap next to the pool. I panicked because I swear, in my mind I already saw your lifeless body floating in the water. But thank God, when I checked the pool, it was empty. So I went looking for you everywhere, but-"

"I was in the closet."

"Yes, you were. And you were curled up into a ball and shaking. You were totally freaking out because you had accidentally spilled juice on your sweater!"

"Cherry juice," he confirms, again with his impeccable memory. "I was out of my mind there for a moment."

"Was it the same today? Were you like trying to hide from me?"

He shakes his head no. "I wasn't trying to hide from you back then neither. I was just... hiding. I don't know why. I left the closet immediately when I saw it was you, remember?"

"Yes, that is true. And you calmed down quickly after I had put your clothes into the washer."

"I calmed down when you cleaned me up," he says. "You washed my hair that day."

"I did?"

His gaze softens and he lies down next to me, mirroring my position and leaning on one elbow with his head resting in his palm. My breath hitches a little, from the sudden proximity and the way his eyes hold mine.

"You washed my hair and sang to me. And you gave me my secret name that day. When I saw you again on Saturday, this was one of the first memories that came back to me."

I need to let my head sink onto the pillow and lie down to wait for the butterflies in my stomach to settle, before I can say anything. He follows suit, again mirroring my move and facing me.

"I remember," I finally whisper and put my palm against his chest.

In the light of this new insight, I also look differently at some of the most recent events, like the fuss he made about cleaning my bed sheets, or how hard-wired his mind was on washing my legs after we got carried away on the kitchen floor.

"I'll try to remember that spilled liquids are still an issue for you," I promise. "I'm sorry that I laughed about it."

He covers my hand with his own. "I forgive you," he simply says.

With any other man, I would immediately check for signs of arrogance or sarcasm if he said something like that instead of the usual placation. But not with Little Green. He just tells it like it is. He didn't get my amusement at his misfortune in the car and was hurt, but he doesn't hold it against me and he doesn't want me to feel sorry.

So he forgives me. All good, right?

Surprisingly, his declaration actually makes me feel better. "I'm glad. Thank you."

He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. One or two butterflies in my stomach decide they're still good for another round of fluttering.

"You know," he says between knuckle-kissing, "I do get the concept that clumsiness and spillage and things knocked over and such is funny for most people. It's like the Three Stooges, when they throw pies into each others' faces." He stops kissing and furrows his brows. "But I assure you that a pie in my face would freak me out just as much."

"I'll try to remember that, too," I say, trying hard not to laugh this time.

He notices my distress, but to my relief he doesn't take offense but grins at me. "That was funny, right? What I just said?"

"Yes, it was," I giggle.

"Because you would never throw a pie in my face?"

I snort. "Chances are virtually zero." He chuckles quietly in response, and my heart jumps for joy, seeing him so lighthearted. "Okay, no laughing at spillage accidents, no pies in your face. Anything else?"

"Yes, there's more," he answers, suddenly serious again. Our still joined hands come to rest on the sheet between us as he bites his bottom lip, searching for words.

"My soaked shirt was uncomfortable, but really... I'm no longer a child and I wouldn't have freaked out like I did if it had been just that."

"Okay..." I say, encouraging him to continue.

"I felt so stupid. I didn't get you, you know. What you said and did in the car... I didn't get that you were just kidding until you laughed. I took you seriously; I was totally taken in. I even... when you touched me and said you wanted to do it right then... the milkshake wasn't the only thing spilled. You were just joking with me, but I thought you meant it, so I got too excited and came in my pants. And then you laughed, and I felt so stupid."

I stare at him, dumbfounded. He thought I was just messing with him? Crap, is he even serious?

"I shouldn't have asked you in the first place," he continues to berate himself. "That was just... stupid, too. Of course, you don't have to take my penis in your mouth, but I didn't know you were kidding. That's almost the worst thing about it, you know, that I didn't get you. Actually, it happens quite a lot since I've got you back. It's not like when we were kids; it's different now... complicated."

Wow!

"But of course, I get it now. I still don't personally find it funny, but I get the concept of this kind of humor and, well... no pies in my face, no cum in your mouth, right?" He smiles wryly.

Pretty much rendered speechless, the only thing I can think right now is, 'What a clusterfuck!' And the only thing I can think of doing right now is pulling him in a tight embrace. And so we hold each other, arms winding around waists and necks, legs entangled like a pretzel.

"I'm just glad we were alone in the car and I didn't embarrass you in front of anyone," he mutters.

"Oh my God, Edward!"

I can't stand it any longer. It's time for me to speak, even though I haven't sorted everything out in my mind yet.

"Listen to me! First of all, you could never ever embarrass me in front of anyone. And you don't need to bend over backwards to be someone you are not. Because to me, you are..."

I was going to say 'perfect', but he won't buy that.

"... you are my person, just the way you are. I don't want it any other way, okay?"

He swallows hard and I can feel him nod yes against my neck.

"Okay," I continue, "and second, I was not kidding. I was like, you know, teasing you a little, but that's something different. I was being playful, but I meant every word I said."

His head jerks up and he looks at me incredulously. "Really?"

"Really really," I assure him. "And I loved that you asked me. I lovedthat you were turned on because I took that sausage into my mouth... I mean... that was what made you ask, right?"

He nervously licks his lips before he answers, "Yes. How do you know? Just thinking of it makes me..."

He doesn't need to finish his sentence. I can feel what thinking of it is making him. I can feel the result twitch against my belly.

"I know," I tell him. "And I love it. When you talked to me like that and I saw your erection, I was so aroused; you have no idea. I meant every word I said, teasing or not. And when I laughed, it was only in part because of the milkshake stunt you pulled, but much more because I was so elated about the effect I had on you. It was really... fucking hot!"

"Fucking hot?" he repeats, still bewildered. But there's a smile trying to steal itself onto his face, as comprehension slowly sets in.

"Abso-fucking-lutely hot!" I confirm.

"Fuck..." he mutters. His breathing has become a little labored.

"You can say that. You want me to prove my point?" I sneak my hand down between our bodies, his happy trail directing me.

"I believe you," he says. "You don't have to... ohhh..."

My fingertips have merely brushed the tip, yet he jerks and gasps at my touch. Seeing his strong response is a huge turn on; I involuntarily squeeze my legs together. Wrapping my hand around the base of his cock, I tease, "So you believe me now, huh? Do you want me to stop?"

"Fu... I mean, no... please..." he whispers.

His eyes are still glued to mine, wide open, and I love how they seem to darken with desire.

"Say it," I dare him. "I like it when you swear."

"I don't even know why I want to say such words when you touch me like this. I... I should tell you how good it feels instead, but it's like a compulsion."

"Please don't hold back. It's kinda hot when you swear because it means that I'm doing this right." I pump him a few times and he draws in a sharp breath.

"Or this..." I swirl my palm around the head, gingerly first but a more firmly as I notice the bit of precum that's already there.

"Yes," he breathes.

He is so hard for me; he feels amazing. The knowledge that I am doing this to him is intoxicating. I'm getting high on the feel of the velvety texture of his skin in my hand, the heat, the faint pulsing. I want to see his beautiful cock. I want to pleasure him. I want to taste him.

I want him in my mouth. Now.

With the slightest push against his hip, I make him roll onto his back easily. I whip off the comforter, rest my head on his chest and just enjoy the view for a moment; he is as pretty down there as I remembered. Forming a ring with my thumb and index finger I resume my stroking, mesmerized by the sight of the glistening, pink head slipping in and out of his foreskin. It has my lady bits throbbing.

Edward's breathing has turned into panting; his hands which lost their hold on me as I rolled us over, are like frozen mid-air near to my shoulders.

"You like that, don't you?" I ask unnecessarily, but he grants me a husky 'yes' anyway. I scoot a littler higher, until I can lay my cheek close to his.

"Let's look at it together," I say. I have no idea where this bold persona is coming from, other than that this beautiful man is bringing my inner goddess out with his mere presence.

He lifts his head the tiniest bit to look down on himself and a dark groan ripples through him.

"Doesn't it look perfect?" I whisper. "It's beautiful, right? Oh God, see how beautiful we are together..."

This time I only get a nod and a quiet little moan. I'm beyond excited and turned on myself. The precum has worn off a little, so I bring my hand to my mouth and spit on it before I reach down again and circle my now slick palm over his glans.

"Bella..." he moans, and finally his hands are on my neck and shoulders again.

"Does this feel good?" I ask with my lips against his ear. "I want to know what feels good for you, love. I want you to show me. Can you do that?"

" I don't know... everything you do feels good, I can't even... just do what you want... anything..."

Well, I certainly know what I want to do. Who knew I would ever cravegiving a blow job like this. I slowly scoot down on him, kissing and licking a wet path along his torso. When I slip out from under his hands, his arms fly up and he rakes his fingers through his hair. There they stay, gripping two fistfuls of strands, as he looks at me wide-eyed.

His hips jerk as I place kisses on each of his hip-bones, down the lines of his 'V' and the sensitive insides of his thighs, deliberately avoiding his now twitching erection. I sit back on my heels between his legs, grab his cock again and look up at his face. His jaw has gone slack and his eye-lids are half-closed. He is panting harder now and his gaze is intense, half hidden under his long lashes, but even more clouded by unadulterated lust.

I catch myself rubbing my throbbing clit against my right heel. Jesus, I am dripping down there. I feel weak and powerful at the same time. Shit, does that even make sense? It's like I can hear my own blood rushing through my veins. I might be salivating at this point.

I bend forward and draw the tip of my tongue along the underside of his penis, from the base up to that sensitive little band of flesh right under the head. Edward arches his back and gives a few sharp gasps. When I look up again, both of his hands are clutching the headboard behind him. I feel compelled to inform him that...

"… I want to make you come with my mouth."

"Fuck!"

Score!

I moisten my lips and then wrap them around just the tip, sucking lightly. More gasps, and more hips bucking... I even hear the headboard creaking once. I hope he won't break it, even though the idea is kind of erotic for some reason.

I move my mouth up and down on the head a bit, never making it quite past the sensitive ridge. I swirl my tongue around every time I move upwards, reveling in the way it makes him squirm. God, I want to see his face...

With a quiet plop I release him and peek through the curtain of my hair. That's when I realize that he probably cannot see a thing, which is a pity. I could tell he enjoyed watching when I had my hand on him earlier.

"Can you hold my hair, baby? I want you to watch what I'm doing. Would you like that?" Have I ever felt that bold and confident before?

"Oh yes," comes his raspy reply. He lets go of the headboard and starts stroking my hair out of my face and bundling it up into a ponytail, his hands taking turns at holding it together at the back of my head in a tight fist. He keeps doing this - running his palms up on my temples, my forehead, the nape of my neck – until he is sure that not a single lock has escaped him.

He is clasping my makeshift ponytail in one hand now, and stroking my cheek with the other, watching me almost reverently. And when I lower my mouth again, I feel him give my hair a brief, excited tug. I don't know if he even noticed what he just did, but I do know that it's one of the most erotic things ever!

I'm still rubbing myself on my heel for some much needed friction. I'm so turned on it's not even funny. This time, I take... well, not all of him but as much of him as possible. Even though my gag reflex thankfully borders on zero, I still can work the base of his erection with my hand after my lips glided down the shaft as far as they would go. Then I go all the way up again, hollowing my cheeks and twirling my tongue.

Edward's breath mingles with quiet noises of pleasure each time he exhales. He's getting more vocal by the minute, and I'm done teasing. I start bobbing my head in earnest now, and a big groan erupts from his chest.

"Fuck," he moans. And again, "Fuck..." His hand falls from my cheek and searches for mine where I'm holding his hipbone. Our fingers entwine in a tight grip, and oh God... he is pulling my hair! A strong feeling of power surges through me, as he gasps out more expletives, each one hitting my insides like a hot shockwave.

"Fuck, Bella... goddamn... fuck, fuck, fuck, ffff... oh... oh ffffuuuuck...!"

Just when I think I might orgasm myself any moment, I'm brought back from my high by hot spurts hitting the back of my throat and a sharp pain on my scalp. He throws his head back and gives a loud roar of sorts. If I didn't know that it's a sound of pure pleasure, I might think he just got stabbed in the heart...

Jesus, that was quick!

I swallow rapidly, but some bits make it onto the back of my tongue anyway and I can't help but grimace a little at the salty taste. Definitely not as 'yummy' as I was hoping. But oh, to see him lose control like that was so worth it!

I plant a last kiss on his softening penis, making him jump, and smile to myself. Sensitive, is it?

"Edward, could you let go of my hair now, please?"

He does so immediately, at the same time releasing my slightly tortured fingers from his death grip. Both his hands fall limply to either side of him. I straighten up and marvel at the beautiful man in front of me, the way his closed eyelids flutter, the rise and fall of his chest as he tries to catch his breath. I did that!

"How do you feel?" I whisper, and his eyes fly open.

In true Little Green manner, he thinks about it for a moment. And of course, being his adorable self, he doesn't come up with any dutiful praise like 'fantastic' or 'amazing'. When he's done deliberating, he says, "I'm feeling out of it. I don't even think I could walk right now."

"Does that mean, it was as good as you imagined it in your fantasies?"

"God, no... I couldn't have imagined this!" he says, shaking his head. "Not in my wildest dreams. It was unbelievable. You are unbelievable."

There. A compliment at last...

I flash him a bright smile. I cannot keep a smug face for the life of me; he is just too endearing, flushed face, bed hair and all. Also, renewed life seems to be returning to his limbs. Well, to some of them anyway. He reaches out one hand to me and I gladly take it, giving a little squeeze.

"Bella, was it... did you enjoy this, too?"

I don't have the heart to tell him that I would have appreciated a little warning, to be honest. Not now anyway. I fully intend to practice in the future, like, a lot. So for now, I'm just going to show him how much I enjoyed it, because... hell yes, I did.

I get up on my knees and guide his hand between my legs. "Can you feel this? How wet I am? That is how much I enjoyed it."

"Fuck, Bella..." he sighs.

"Good?"

"God, yes!" He pulls his hand back, and I almost whimper as I watch him put his index and middle finger into his mouth.

"Do you know what's also good about this?" I inquire.

Still sucking on his fingers, he shakes his head no. I giggle at the sight. He looks like the proverbial kid who just had his hand in the cookie jar.

"Look!" I say cheerfully, grazing my fingertip along his now flaccid cock.

He raises his brows questioningly. "What?"

I grin at him.

"No spillage!"

Little Green and Easybella 24

2012-01-21T18:39:00.000-08:00

(BELLA)

"Are you sure you don't want me to wait?" Tanya asks me for the fifth time. And for the fifth time I assure her that yes, I'm fine, and she can close the store and go upstairs.

6:15 p.m. She has waited too long already.

"Ok," she surrenders with a sigh. "But if he doesn't show up and you need a cab or a place to wait for the next bus, just ring the bell. I don't like the idea of you waiting here outside in the dark and cold. I should kick his cute ass for standing you up, I mean, what the hell?"

"He will come, Tanya. But thank you."

I know my smile isn't really convincing, but Tanya lets it rest. "Ok, see you tomorrow."

When she's gone, I sit down on the doorstep and get out my cell phone. I don't know if Edward has replaced his broken phone yet, but then I realize it doesn't matter anyway because I don't even have his number.

"Fuck!"

I can't believe he's not coming. Maybe he got stuck in the traffic? Or is he still upset... too upset to keep his promise to pick me up? He wouldn't do such a thing, or would he? But I don't understand what made him distraught in the first place, so I can't be sure.

6:25 p.m.

No, this is ridiculous. He wouldn't stand me up like that. Something must have happened.

The thought sends a chill down my spine. I can't wait here any longer, knowing with sudden certainty that he really isn't coming. Not because he changed his mind, but because he can't.

Something must have happened.

Fighting back the sudden nausea, I rise to my feet and move. If I run really fast, I can still catch the 6:35 bus.

(EDWARD)

Music is reliable. My piano is reliable, now that I've fixed the treble C. And it was easy to fix. My fingers are leading an independent existence on the keys, as if they didn't need any cerebral commands. They know music; they know the rules.

… they know the song... Bella's song... the new one... a tripping arpeggio...

My fingers know the rules of how to break the rules and how to un-break them again. Sequences, patterns, waves, air in motion. I don't need to pay attention; I just let go and let my body take over. It is safe to give up control because music is trustworthy. And while drops and waves and layers of sound fill the room, I can think.

Music is trustworthy; people are not.

I wish everything in life was as easy as music. Actually, I mistakenly thought it was as easy the first day when I got Bella back. But it isn't. With the things happening these days, there's no doing the math.

… an ascending sequence of open fifths... anticipating the main theme...

Love.

There are no chromatic signs to keep you from going astray, to keep you safe. Not even with Bella, no-more-Easybella. Maybe if I could understand love like I understand music, but I don't.

...ritardando... breathing silence...

Sex.

There's no axis of abscissas to find your place, no formula to predict the results of your actions. No rules, no safe ground. Everything is floating, and what was bliss on one day turns into a mess on the next.

… A minor seventh chord... crescendoing quarters...

I know how to be a musician, but I don't know how to be a man.

I'm playing the song I composed in my head when I was with Bella last night, but I notice it has changed. Where's the sweet cadence gone? Broken chords, broken rules... there's no going back. I wish I could find words to go with the melody.

I've never felt like my music is lacking lyrics before, but now I do. Words that could give shape to Bella's tune for everyone to understand the lovedliness I'm in.

Is that even a word, lovedliness? Is it?

There's a faint layer of flickering light chains weaving itself through the solid grid construction that is Bella's song in my mind, like meanings behind meanings behind meanings.

I gasp and stop playing. I try to get a hold of this additional dimension, but the delicate patterns fade away along with the dance of lights as the sound dies down.

With a sigh, I slowly lower my hands until they rest on my thighs. I can feel the goose bumps under my palms, and I shiver as I notice the chill that has crept in through my bare feet on the cold floor and has now consumed my whole body.

How long have I been playing in the nude? How long has it been since I came home and shed all of my clothes in a frenzy to get rid of that sticky feeling of failure? It was still daylight when I washed the dried sperm off my belly. It is dark now. It must be late.

After the shower I went straight to my piano. And then I played. And I calmed down. That's all I remember. How late is it? And why do I even want to know? Time doesn't matter when I'm playing; it doesn't even exist...

The muffled sound of my new cell ringing from somewhere under the heap of clothes on the floor reminds me that I still have to put them in the washer, or they will soon reek of soured milk and... cum. I don't even want to touch the stained clothes again, but I have to, if only to silence the phone which is starting to give me a headache. I haven't found the time to change that default ringtone yet.

I'm really cold now. I need to put some clothes on. And I should drink something; my mouth is so dry.

Just a minute...

I can't find it in me to get up from the piano bench. Not yet. I close my eyes and wait for the ringtone to stop. After an eternity, it does.

I'm feeling anxious all of a sudden, as if I'm missing something really important. But I cannot figure out what it is. My mind is so screwed up these days. It can't be the laundry... or the phone. It's probably Esme calling. I don't want to deal with either of it. Maybe I should sleep.

Sleep sounds like a really good idea right now. I pull my feet up, let myself fall to one side and curl into a ball on the piano bench. The leather makes a smacking sound, as it separates from my butt cheeks after what I realize must have been hours. My arms hold my knees against my chest and I drift off quickly. It doesn't even bother me when my phone starts ringing again.

I'm back. It was a dreamless sleep, absolute darkness, absolute silence, and it was much needed. Without opening my eyes, I get my bearings effortlessly. It takes me two seconds to remember where I am, and another two seconds to notice what has changed while I was sleeping.

One jar of jelly...
two jars of jelly...

This is my place. I'm still on my piano bench. I'm still in that fetal position and I'm still naked.

three jars of jelly...

I'm no longer cold.

I'm wrapped up in what must be my comforter, judging from the feel and smell of it. The bottom is folded around my feet and ankles, and the sides are firmly stuffed under my knees and my back to leave the cool no way to creep inside this cocoon.

four in my belly...

I'm no longer alone.

She doesn't stir or make any sound; I feel rather than hear her breathing. But I sense her presence like one would sense the coming of spring. The air is different with her in the same room, sweeter... and charged with some sort of energy. Breathing is easier. Moving is easier. She even changes gravity.

She floods the room with lovedliness. It has to be a word!

"Bella," I whisper, and open my eyes.

"Fuck!" comes her muttered response as she tries to untangle her legs and scoot over to me from where she's been sitting on the floor, cross-legged. I giggle at her awkward struggling, which earns me a glare.

"My fucking legs have gone dead," she huffs.

And then she's there - brown eyes, blushed cheeks and all – with her breath fanning over my face. I wiggle one arm free from underneath the thick comforter and our hands find each other like magnets.

"Are you okay, Edward? I was worried sick!"

I take a moment to process what she's saying. I'm feeling much better. I'm feeling really good now, actually. I nod my head yes and smile at her. It's a whole-body smile, tingling down the back of my throat and warming me from the inside of my stomach. I'm just so happy that she's here.

She exhales a long breath. "You were so cold when I found you, lying here in the nude and sleeping like a baby."

"How did you get in here?" My voice is croaky. I remember being thirsty before I fell asleep. I still am.

"The window."

What? This is the third floor! She cannot -

"Just kidding," she smiles and squeezes my hand. "I have a key. My ex-husband used to do a bit of a janitor's job here, and I still have emergency keys to every apartment. I hope you don't mind that I let myself in? I was really worried about you."

Why does she keep saying that? "I was just sleeping."

"Yes, I can see that. And I'm really, really glad that you're okay."

Her smile is getting gauzy, like something she has just put on to cover... something else... a sadness? I don't like it. A small fragment of memory is coming unstuck in my mind, a puzzle piece of sorts that has gone missing, and I don't like it.

"Bella..."

It falls and tumbles towards its destination, and the closer it gets the more it makes my stomach turn.

"Edward, you promised me we would talk tonight, to explain to me why you were so upset. I waited for you at the drugstore..."

The tile clicks into place before she even finishes speaking and the rush of adrenaline flooding my system would knock me off of my feet if I weren't lying down already.

"... but you didn't come."

I hardly hear her last words over the increasing white noise in my ears, as the sequence of events rushes through my mind at a nauseating speed and high pressure, like through a bottleneck, and in reverse order.

Fatigue... my phone ringing... a song that asked for words... piano playing... I tuned the C, still wet from the shower... my sticky clothes on the floor... crying in the car on my way home... leaving Bella at the drugstore... "When shall I pick you up?"

"No..."

I didn't... I forgot to pick her up... I forgot the time while I was playing... I forgot...

"Oh no!"

I'm on my feet in a split second, breaking out in cold sweat at the realization of my failure. The comforter slips off of me. I stagger and in the hasty attempt to steady myself I land the flat of my hand on the lower keys.

Bella's shriek mixes with the thundering piano sound. She rises to her feet and slings her arms around my torso in one quick move. I hold on to her desperately, knowing I've messed up badly.

Please, how can I fix this?

"Oh God, Bella, I'm so sorry, so sorry... oh God..."

Is there any way to fix this?

"Please... " I beg.

God, I want to undo this!

"Shhh... calm down, Edward. It's okay. I'm here." Her hands are on my face and in my hair, stroking, soothing... "Look at me, love. I'm here. Nothing bad has happened. Breathe, okay?"

I breathe. I look at her. I calm down a bit.

"That's it," she whispers.

I am sick with love and regret and unable to tell her how I feel right now. This is a new degree of self-loathing, even for an expert in feeling out of place like me. I don't think there are even words to express the helpless misery I'm in. Or maybe...

"Asshole," I croak out. "I am an asshole."

"No, you aren't," she says firmly.

She moves a bit backwards, and I tighten my grip instinctively. I can't let her go; I can't lose her. But then I understand that she wants us to sit down. My body understands... just sit down, that is all. And so we do. Without breaking our touch, we sink down on the bench.

With one hand still cradling my cheek, Bella bends down and picks the comforter up off the floor. She tucks it loosely around my hips and legs, and I feel like crying about the way she cares for me, when I just failed her so badly... multiple times in just one day.

"I'm so sorry," I repeat myself for lack of anything smarter to say. "If there is a way to fix this, please... I would do anything..."

"Stop it, Edward," she cuts in. "I'm not mad at you. And you are not an asshole."

She pulls my head towards her until my face is nestled in the crook of her neck. Her body is working the Easybella medicine on me. Her warmth, her scent, her heartbeat. I start to relax under her touch, even though I still feel like a piece of crap, and rightfully so.

"Well, maybe you were being a bit of an asshole when you kept me waiting for you without any clue what was going on," she continues. "And if you want to fix this..."

God yes, that's what I want, a thousand times yes!

"... you could start by explaining to me what I did wrong and why you were so unhappy today."

I raise my head and take a deep breath; I don't hesitate. "It wasn't anything you did, not really. When we were in the car and -"

She cuts me off by putting her index finger on my mouth.

"Before you tell me everything - and you will tell me everything, right?"

I nod eagerly. Everything. Anything. I love you, Bella.

"Your lips are chapped," she mumbles and her finger grazes my bottom lip. "Okay. I don't know what you did all afternoon, but you are kind of dehydrated and you're freezing and to be honest, you scared the shit out of me when I saw you lying here. I thought you were sick."

I shake my head no, and she smiles and takes both my hands in hers. They are much too small to cover my long fingers, but it feels like their clasp is keeping me from falling apart regardless.

It scares me how much I love her.

"Anyway... before you start, what about we sit down in your kitchen and fetch ourselves something to drink? And you should put some clothes on."

I don't like the idea of more fabric between us, but yes, I guess I should put something on. Especially if it is part of the fix-this-deal. And I'm really thirsty, too. She is right; I'm dehydrated.

But I'm having trouble letting go of her. Like she could disappear while I'm dressing. And it would be my own fault, right? I forgot her... again!

"Edward?"

What is wrong with me? I just got her back after I had forgotten her for years, and I did it again. Maybe I deserved to lose her.

I know I'm being ridiculous; somewhere in the back of my mind I know. But the thought is hard to fight back. Haven't I proven today that even now I am incapable of doing right by her?

What if something had happened to her while she was waiting for me? Oh God...

"Edward, you are not going to panic now, are you?"

Yes, I am. Fuck! Focus! I look down at our joined hands, my life-line. I know I'm being irrational, but I cannot let go yet. In a minute, maybe...

Bella sighs. "I'm here, love. I won't go anywhere."

She gets me; she still gets me. She always does. The relief makes me dizzy.

"Okay? Little Green?"

My secret name!

"Would you feel more at ease if I take my clothes off, too?"

Oh God, yes...

Without letting go of my hands, she gets up from the bench. "Come on, let's get some liquid into this beautiful body of yours and then we'll take this conversation to your bedroom. What do you say?"

What do I say?

"Bella..."

I want to say a thousand times yes. I want to say thank you. I still want to say 'I'm sorry' over and over again, even though I know she doesn't want to hear that. I want to say that I love her.

I want to say so many things, but that's when I realize that she really isn't leaving. And everything she needs to know right now and everything that needs to be explained comes down to three words.

They are unexpected, but when they leave my mouth, they feel like the most important thing I ever said...

"I trust you."

Little Green and Easybella 23

2012-01-08T10:26:00.001-08:00

(BELLA)

"I'm feeling like a moron," I blurt out, as soon as we are seated in the car again.

"No," Edward says softly. He puts his hand on my thigh, a worried look on his face. "Why?"

I turn my gaze to the crumpled newspaper wrap I hold on my lap, containing Aro's very own wrest, a loan to his very own wunderkind. It turned out he didn't have any to sell. The weight of the package feels good in my hands. Real. Comforting.

"Because apparently, I'm dating a celebrity and I'm the only one who didn't know about it."

"I'm not a celebrity," he disagrees. "And we're not dating."

My head jerks up in surprise. "You're not... and we're... not? What...?"

His brows knit together, and his face takes on the same expression it did when we were at my apartment door yesterday night, just before he so lengthily went into detail about why he didn't want to go to his own place. If there's any pattern to him looking so displeased with himself, I'd better prepare for another Little Green word vomit.

He takes a deep breath. "Bella..."

Oh yes, here it comes...

"I'm not a celebrity. Celebrities are famous persons. I'm not famous. My picture is in the local newspapers because I will perform at a local event. I'm originally from this area and they are excited about it, that's all. I have a contract with the Seattle Symphony, starting next year. They say I will be the youngest resident pianist they ever had. Esme showed me a paper from last month where they made a big fuss about it. But that's it. I'm not famous. I'm just a musician."

I beg to differ, but this is one of his new epic chatterbox moments, so I don't get a chance to even open my mouth.

"We're not dating because we just aren't... yet. I suppose I could still take you out on a date if you want me to. But usually, dating is what people do before they become... before they..."

His frown deepens and he bites his bottom lip, the telltale sign that he's scanning his internal list of possibly applicable terms. I let him search a few seconds before I offer, "Before they have sex?"

He shakes his head. "Before they become like us. Dating is what people do when they still just hope to become like us."

Oh. Okay...

"And if the dating goes well, they fall in love," he states matter-of-factly.

"Is that so?" I can't suppress a smirk at his dead-serious declaration. Because he is Little Green, he doesn't get irritated but smiles back at me instead.

"Yes," he answers, "that's what I've heard." Then the frown returns. "I know I'm not really... well, I'm just book-smart, not social-smart. I'm trying, you know, but sometimes it just doesn't work out. I'm sorry I didn't date you, Bella, but I loved you before I even had a chance. I've always loved you, but in the beginning I was too little and too... stupid. And then we were separated. And then I came home and I still loved you, or... loved you again."

I'm not smirking any more. His words pull my heart-strings, and I wonder if I'll ever stop underestimating this man.

"I already loved you before I ever had a chance to date you," he adds, somewhat regretfully.

"Edward, you are much more than just 'book-smart', whatever that means," I say, for want of something better to ease his mind. "You never cease to amaze me with your way of thinking. You're so much smarter than most people I know."

"No, I'm not. You saw me at Aro's when Jasper appeared. He was just being friendly and I wasn't able to relax or even behave like a normal human being. I know how to do it, you know, but all the appropriate things to say get scrambled in my head and I can't get them out. I guess that's why I never made any normal friends. Because I'm not social-smart."

"Okay, you're not social-smart," I reluctantly agree.

It's pretty obvious that Edward is seeing himself quite clearly and isn't willing to take any pep talk for pep talk's sake, if it isn't true. And yes, I saw him struggling with Jasper.

"But you did great with Aro."

"That's because I know him."

"You knew him when you were a child."

"I never forget things. And he hasn't changed much."

Damn, he is one stubborn bastard!

"Edward..." I sigh.

"Look, what I'm trying to say is, we're not dating. But I didn't skip this stage in our relationship intentionally. I was even considering asking you on a belated date, when I thought you didn't love me back... you know, as a way to try winning you over. Because that is how it sometimes works too, right? But the next day you fell in love with me on your own. So the chance was gone."

I take his hand and give him my best assuring smile. "I don't mind. And you know, we can still have many dates, just to enjoy ourselves."

"I know," he says, and there's a touch of sadness in his eyes, like a tenuous veil. "I just wish I had won you over before we made love for the first time. I just wish you'd loved me already then."

"Oh God..."

I let go of his hand and wrap my arms around him... a little awkwardly because of the damn center console, but he bends forward and pulls me against his chest. The wrest slips from my lap and into the foot-well with a loud thud. I don't care.

"But I did, Edward. I loved you so much already; I just didn't know."

He sighs into my hair. "Good," he whispers. "Good… and I'm not a celebrity."

No, just a musical genius who is going to be the youngest piano star in the history of Seattle's leading orchestra and is working with, as Jasper so eloquently put it, 'fucking Grammy winning Hollywood composer Messina'.

But I don't say anything. I don't want this to turn into a real argument. Also, my stomach chooses the first quiet moment we've had since we entered the car to give an embarrassingly loud growl.

Edward giggles. He giggles!

When he lets go of me, he looks quite amused. His mood swings might give me whiplash.

"That was loud," he states the obvious. "You need lunch now."

I cock an eyebrow at him. "And that was just social-smart. See?"

"Not at all," he insists as he turns the ignition key.

"Okay, I give up. You win."

He chuckles. What's with the giggling suddenly?

"And you're not a celebrity."

"Nope."

At least not in the meaning of 'global super star'," I clarify.

"Bella... this is silly. I'm not a celebrity at all."

"No, you are a musical genius."

He doesn't reply this time. Maybe he agrees on the genius part, or maybe he just can't object any more because he's driving again. Doesn't matter. I lean back in my seat and relax, glad to have the final say.

We're at Port Angeles Boat Haven, enjoying the spectacular view of the harbor. Edward drove us all the way down Boat Haven Drive to the tip of the street that reaches out far into the basin. The small lot is deserted, except for a parked boat trailer and well, now us, in Edward's Volvo, picnicking.

"How do you know about this place?" I ask him. "I mean, you haven't been in Port Angeles in years. How did you even know how to get here?"

He swallows down the last bite of his burger and shrugs. "Google Maps."

Of course. Duh!

"Besides, the town is very geometrical, very neat. Like a grid. You can't go wrong, if you just memorize a few coordinates."

"Except for the road-works we had to detour around, huh?" I wink at him.

He smiles at me sheepishly. "No, that wasn't in the satellite picture. But the 'Plunkin Shack Cafe' was, and the reviews said it's a local favorite to grab a quick lunch. It's good, isn't it?"

I have already devoured my share of the takeout we fetched on the way. Or maybe I should say I 'inhaled' it. I didn't know how famished I was until I my taste buds made their first contact with the cheeseburger.

Now I really wish I had ordered something else along with it, like Edward did. He's just unwrapping his second course. I'm getting a little green-eyed here.

"Yes, it is," I say, eyeing the hot dog in his hand as he raises it to his mouth. I hope I'm not drooling, but I'm not sure.

He stops mid-raise. "What?"

I swallow loudly.

"You want?" he asks, pointing the hot dog at me.

"Yeah, maybe one bite."

Supporting myself with one hand on his thigh, I lean over to the driver seat and open my mouth. He slowly moves his hot-dog-holding hand towards me, and as soon as it is within my biting range, I put my lips around the part of the sausage that's peeking out of the bun.

I close my eyes and bite off a chunk. "Mmmh… ip'f good!" I mumble, chewing blissfully. The noise of my own chomping is so loud in my head that I don't notice how much Edward's breathing has sped up until I swallow and open my eyes again.

He is leaning back in his seat and staring at me, open-mouthed, and whatever his concern may be right now, it's not eating. The hot dog is still hovering at eye level between us; I could take another bite effortlessly. The beverage cup in his left hand tilts dangerously to one side, completely forgotten.

"What?" I ask.

Edward licks his lips and swallows. "Last Sunday, you know, when we made love for the first time and you…" he trails off.

"And I… ?" I raise my brows, wondering where this is going. The memory of our first time causes my pulse to quicken.

"You took me in your mouth."

I glance at his lap, then at the hot dog, than at his lap again. Sweet baby Jesus! Involuntarily, I grab his thigh tighter at the sight of the bulge in his jeans.

"You haven't done it again," he continues, "and I was wondering… are you afraid that I might, you know, orgasm? In your mouth, I mean."

I have no idea if this could be considered anything close to dirty talking, but it certainly has that effect on me. I know he doesn't mean it that way, but I can't help the heat rising to my cheeks.

I simply cannot resist - I slide my hand up his thigh and let my index finger graze the pronounced outline of his cock as I say, "Would you like that? Would you like to come in my mouth?"

The moan that erupts from his chest sets my insides on fire. Now the heat is spreading between my legs as well. "Would you?" I repeat without averting my eyes from my teasing finger.

"Very much," he breathes. "I imagined it a few times... yes. But, only if you want to."

I palm him over the fabric of his jeans and feel a light twitch. Encouraged, I give a little squeeze, eliciting another beautiful moan from him.

"I think I do." I smile, remembering when we talked about how much he liked to taste me. "I'm sure your taste is pretty… yummy!"

I take delight in the way his hips jerk at my words.

"We should try it some time," I say.

He gasps and whispers, "Yes."

I flick the top button of his fly open. "What about now?"

A sudden crunch sound makes us both wince. Startled, I look up to see the crumpled remains of a styrofoam cup in Edward's fist. A pinkish liquid is leaking out and dripping down. He doesn't even notice. His eyes are closed, and he is almost panting now.

"You just killed your milkshake," I say, and his eyes fly open.

"Fuck!" He jumps in his seat. Laughing, I take his hot dog and hand him some paper napkins. He puts the remainders of the cup into one of the empty takeout paper bags and starts cleaning himself up. "This is sticky. Fuck!"

"I'm sorry," I giggle. "But that was just so funny."

"No, it wasn't," he mumbles and buttons up his jeans. "It was not... appropriate. Not here."

Is he actually pissed off? Uh-oh…

"I'm sorry, Edward. I don't know what just came over me."

He looks down at his hands and shakes his head. "I want to go home now. Put your seatbelt on, please."

"Edward, what...?

"It's time anyway. I'll drop you off at the drugstore."

And with that he fastens his seatbelt and starts the car. I don't know what to say. I'm so shocked; I can feel my heart beating in my throat. He is hurt, and I don't even know why or what I have done to make him so upset. Until just now, he was playing along all right. Or wasn't he?

We drive back to Denali's in silence. I steal glances at him from time to time; he is grinding his jaw, mute, brooding, introverted. If he even notices me looking, he doesn't show it.

When we arrive and the car is safely parked, I can't stand it any more.

"I didn't mean to make fun of you. You know that, right?"

Without turning to me, he nods.

"Are you mad at me? Why?"

He shakes his head no.

I don't know what to make of this. He has been so easy and light-hearted in the last hour, and now it seems I wrecked his mood with my silly move. He won't even look at me. His hands are still clutching the wheel as if to keep them from searching for my touch as they would normally do.

Also, he doesn't get out of the car to open the passenger door for me, as he would normally do. Instead, he takes a deep breath and exhales a few words, barely audible...

"I want to go home."

And like that, I'm dismissed.

My stomach turns. I can't let him leave like this; I need to make this better. But how?

"Edward, can you please look at me?"

He turns his head, and when his eyes find mine I breathe a sigh of relief. I almost expected him to look past me like he did after his breakdown in my bathroom. But thank God, he is still with me – good. The deep crease between his brows – not so good.

"You know, it's okay if you're mad with me," I offer. "But I want to understand it, and maybe make it up to you if I can."

"I'm not mad at you... I think."

He thinks?

"I can not talk now."

"Okay," I assure, even though it's definitely not okay. But I leave it be. "I need to go inside now. I'm already late."

He swallows and parts his lips as if to speak, but doesn't say anything. When I open my seat belt, he releases his, too.

We look into each other's eyes for a few more seconds, then we both speak in unison, "I'm sorry."

As soon as the words are out, he leans over to me with a gasp; I quickly crawl up upon my seat to meet him and I'm almost straddling him when he wraps me in a tight hug.

"Bella..." he breathes.

I know there are passers-by, and I know Tanya is probably watching us from inside the drugstore, but I couldn't care less right now. With my arms around his neck, I kiss his forehead, his closed eyelids, his nose, cheeks, jaw... soft, deliberate kisses. He gives a shaky sigh.

"What's got you so upset, love?" I whisper. "What did I do?"

"I don't know. I don't know why I'm feeling so... angry?"

There's so much helpless confusion coloring his voice. I tilt my head back to seek his eyes. His lids flutter open; he blinks rapidly a few times and then he says,

"I don't know what you did. Not exactly. I'd just rather you didn't do it again."

Oh, that's really helpful! Damn...

"I need to think about it," he adds.

"We'll talk tonight then?"

"Yes."

I kiss his lips. He kisses me back, with his mouth closed. I climb off of him and compose myself to exit the car. When I cast one last glance over my shoulder, he has turned away from me already. His hands are back on the steering wheel and his eyes are back on his hands.

"When shall I pick you up?" he asks, all business.

"You don't have to do that. I can take the bus."

That queasy feeling in my stomach won't go away, I'm still all churned up inside, seeing him wring his fingers around the wheel like that. Also, he doesn't reply to my comment, so I guess it's best if I just answer his question.

"Six o'clock."

He nods. "Six. Okay."

I love you!

I don't say it.
I open the car door and get out.
I watch him drive away.
I raise my hand and wave. So silly...

Then he's gone. The queasy feeling stays.

When I enter the store, Tanya is nowhere to be seen. At least she didn't watch us then. I find her in the backroom, slouching on the bench with her legs on the table, ankles crossed. Her shoes are off and she's wiggling her toes.

I can tell she's excited about something, even before she notices my return and greets me with a loud "Ha!"

Ignoring her outburst, I walk past her to my locker, shrugging off my coat on the way. As I put it on the hanger, I can hear Tanya rumble behind me. She's up and standing next to me before I've turned around.

"Swan!" she whisper-screams and waves a copy of the Peninsula Daily News in front of my face. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me that you are dating a celebrity?"

Oh crap...

"Not now, Tanya, okay?"

Little Green and Easybella 22

2012-01-08T10:21:00.000-08:00

(BELLA)

He holds the passenger door of his shiny new Volvo open for me, but when I'm seated inside, he doesn't close it at once. Instead he keeps standing there, gripping the door handle, and frowns down at me.

I want to ask him what's going on, but before I get a chance, he snaps out of whatever internal debate he's having and gives me an apologetic look.

"Bella, is it ok if we don't talk while I'm driving?"

"Sure," I answer, and his relief is palpable.

I have a feeling that Edward won't be up for much more conversation for quite a while. Even though everything went pretty well with Tanya, it must have been a 'Close Encounters of the Third Kind' sort of thing for him. It has clearly worn him out.

"Don't worry," he says, still frowning.

"I won't," I say, puzzled at his cryptic comment. "What could I possibly worry about?"

"Me talking? Your lunch? I don't know..."

Even that concise reply seems to strain him right now; it sounds more like a question, as if he's suddenly uncertain about the whole situation. He did so well at the drugstore, it was easy to forget that he's not comfortable with meeting new people, especially without warning... and I have trouble keeping up with Tanya's filthy wit sometimes myself, at that!

Admittedly, I can't imagine why Edward would think my lunch could be an issue, but right now is not the time for any inquiry on that part. Right now he needs a break, so I keep it short and sweet.

"I'm not worried," I assure him again, simple as that.

It works. He nods his head and smiles at me timidly before he finally closes the passenger door and darts around the car at an almost unnatural speed.

"I'll make sure you get something to eat," he mumbles as he pulls out of the parking space, and that's the last thing spoken for the entire ride.

I have no idea where we're heading; he didn't tell me and I'm not going to ask now. He is a good driver, calm and circumspect – as long as he doesn't have to talk. When we take a turn to the left and leave East Lauridson Boulevard, I lean back in my seat and look out of the side window.

I usually don't get around much in Port Angeles. I go to work and back home on the bus, and shopping 's not an issue either. For everything not available at Denali's, there's a grocery store in immediate vicinity of my place. I don't regret leaving the car to Jake. During our marriage, he had monopolized it most of the time anyway, so I rarely ever got to drive anywhere. I don't miss that old ride at all.

But fact is that I didn't go out much. After only two more turns, I don't recognize any streets or houses anymore. I've never been here. I smile to myself at the sight of all those age-worn boats leaning against patient garage walls or slowly sinking into the dirt under make-shift wooden shelters. Everyone in this part of the town seems to own a boat, even though most of those crockleshells look like they haven't seen any water in ages.

When Edward pulls over after just a few minutes and shuts down the engine, I turn to look at him. He appears to have relaxed a great deal during the short ride; the crease between his brows has smoothed out and a small smile is playing around the corners of his mouth.

"We're here," he says.

I glance around, looking for... I don't know, some place to eat maybe. But I can't spot anything even close to a diner or a restaurant. There are just a few homes, standing wide-apart from each other. Some of them very much need a paint-job, but the front lawns are mowed and tidy. It's a typical working-class neighborhood, and the street is pretty quiet at this time of the day.

I raise my brows quizzically at Edward. He looks excited, a little cocky even.

"Okay," I sigh in surrender. "You gotta give me some answers."

He tilts his head and slightly squints his eyes as if considering carefully and says, "Yes... no... to the other side... a wrest..."

I gape at him. He is obviously... teasing me? I don't think I've seen him like that yet. But strangely, I also get a weird sense of déjà vu, as if I've had this kind of conversation before. Or maybe it was a dialogue in some movie I'd seen? I don't know...

Misreading my puzzled expression, he starts to elaborate, "A wrest is a special tool you need..."

"I didn't want to know how to tune a piano," I cut in.

"You knew that?" He seems genuinely surprised.

"I'm not only reading Tanya's 'InTouch' magazines, you know," I retort, a little snippier than intended. "So what were you talking about just now... yes, no, other side and else?"

"You wanted me to give you some answers," he shrugs.

He is clearly enjoying keeping me in suspense; this is fun. I decide to play along to see more of cheeky Little Green.

"Yeah, right. You win, I'm curious now. So what did you think were my questions?"

His playful grin is in full force now. Also, his chatterbox skills have recovered remarkably well during the short drive. Counting them down with his fingers, he rattles off questions and answers. He's even using different voices, taking turns doing a pretty convincing Bella-impersonation and speaking in his own velvet lilt.

"This is where you wanted to take me?" Then in his own voice again, "Yes." - "Are we going to eat here? No." - "So where are we going then? Otherside of the street." - "What for? To get a wrest."

And with that he opens the door and gracefully winds himself out of the driver seat. Again he is at the passenger side of the Volvo so quickly that I don't get a chance to exit the car on my own. I take the hand he is offering me, but instead of just gallantly helping me up like I expected, he pulls me close and into his arms as soon as I am standing.

"I was just kidding with you," he whispers against my temple. "Did you catch it?"

Oh hello, goose bumps! "Certainly..." I breathe.

His hand is caressing the nape of my neck, his lips brushing my cheek. "Did you like it?"

"Yes, you're good at kidding," I confirm. "For a moment I thought you might have caught the Tanya bug."

"Tanya's cool. Funny. And smart." He pulls his head back and looks at me thoughtfully. "She's not always just kidding, you know."

"She's a good person. It's just hard to tell at times whether she's serious or not, right?"

He shakes his head. "It's a bit of a challenge, but I like that she's not acting differently with me. It makes me feel less... different. Besides, she gave me a clue. It will be easier from now on."

"A clue?"

"Yes. If she's serious, she calls me Edward instead of Eddie, so I will know it's not a joke."

"Wow, I wish she'd give me a clue like that, too." I laugh. "That's really nice of her."

"And smart."

"Yes, that too." I smile. I think I like Tanya even more now.

"I want to kiss you, Bella," Edward suddenly says. "Appropriate?"

Oh, totally!

Instead of an answer I press my mouth on his. He tilts his head to deepen the kiss and his long fingers rake through my hair and cup the back of my head. I feel that familiar liquid heat wash through me immediately, head to toe, and I whimper into his mouth. I can't help it; this is just the way it is with Little Green.

Too soon for my liking, he breaks the kiss and says, "You must be hungry."

Jesus, you have no idea...!

"Let's go and get the wrest. Then we'll find some place to eat, okay?"

Oh... eat. Yes, I'm hungry for food, too, I guess.

He takes my hand and leads me across the street. It's only when he stops in front of one of the smaller brick houses that I notice the inconspicuous shop sign at the door:

~ VOLTURI VIOLINS ~

The sound of a small bell, strategically fixed above the door, greets us when we enter the shop. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dim light inside, but then I find myself in a little wonderland. What looked like just one of those family homes from the outside, is harboring the kind of enchanted, antique place you might find described in an old bedtime story... you know, where the shopkeepers seem odd until you find out they're actually wizards or something.

The room is crammed full of musical treasures, mainly stringed instruments... violins, cellos, guitars, nothing but beautifully crafted, old-fashioned instruments. They're hanging on the walls and from the ceiling, tightly packed. Some are resting in stands on the floor, surrounded by hand drums and wooden boxes full of small percussion instruments and all kinds of rattle-and-jingle stuff. An intimidating double bass is towering above it all in the center of the room, its only serious competition the black baby grand standing next to it.

Everything in this tiny universe of its own is shiny surfaces and elegant curves, and every item oozes tradition and awe-inspiring craftsmanship. Strangely, this place that holds the promise of symphonies and other sonic sensations, is eerily quite, except for the ticking of a huge antique wall clock.

I look up at Edward and find him smiling blissfully. "Marvelous, isn't it?" he whispers.

A voice from somewhere in the back calls out, "Just a second, please. I'll be right with you."

I almost expect someone in white tie and tailcoat to appear, a violin in the left hand and a fiddle stick in the right, ready to serenade their customers. But the first thing that comes into sight, when the curtain in the backroom door parts, is a blond Mohawk and a bright smile.

I involuntarily start counting the piercings that adorn the ears as well as certain facial areas of this otherwise extremely handsome young man who seems to belong anywhere but here. His entire appearance, from the worn biker boots and shredded blue jeans to the band shirt, screams Rock 'n Roll. Or Punk. Or whatever... But his face is young and boyish with those bright blue eyes and warm smile, cute dimples and all.

"Hello," he greets us cheerfully. "My name's Jazz; how can I help you guys?"

Edward isn't smiling any more. All of a sudden he is back to stiff posture and furrowed brows.

"Hello... Jazz," he says intently. "I would like to buy a wrest, please."

I almost forgot that his happy, easy-going persona is really just a precious gift reserved for me. Edward doesn't exactly look uncomfortable talking to a stranger, but he is reeling off his social behavior like reading his lines from a script. He is being polite again, not really making any connection with the friendly guy in front of us. Once again, I marvel at how well things went with him and Tanya. Until just now, I hadn't realized how exceptional that was.

I think this is the first time I really perceive the way he's acting in a situation like this. One could easily confuse his aloof attitude with arrogance, I guess, even though nothing could be further from the truth.

However, Jazz doesn't take offense or show the tiniest sign that he even notices anything unusual about Edward's demeanor.

"Piano tuning, huh?" he says, regarding his uptight customer thoughtfully. "Wow... wouldn't have thought you'd do it yourself. Don't you guys have personal staff for stuff like that?"

Now what the fuck is that supposed to mean?

Edward's face remains unreadable, as he simply answers, "No."

The two men look at each other in silence - Edward fixating on his favorite safe spot; that Jazz guy still blatantly gazing. After a few seconds his dimples deepen and the million-dollar smile is back in full force.

"Well," he says, "I guess they're down-sizing everywhere these days. Anyway, I'm not sure whether we have such a thing for sale. Let me ask the boss, okay?"

Edward gives a brief nod. "Yes, please."

Jazz turns on his heels, granting us a glimpse of his right butt cheek peeking through an XXL rip in his jeans, and slips through the curtain.

"Okay, that was weird," I say. "Do you know that guy?"

Edward shakes his head no, just like I expected. I mean, he hasn't been here in years. And how did he know about this place anyway? It's not like there's a neon sign flashing the words 'music store' outside. Maybe Jazz has just confused Edward with someone else.

I'm kicked out of my musings when the curtains part once more and an elder man appears, young Jazz in tow. I suppose, this must be Mr. Volturi Violins in the flesh.

"Buongiorno!" he says in a musical voice, confirming my suspicion. He is a small but wiry man with olive skin and oily hair, which is still thick and jet-black, even though I reckon him to be in his sixties. The countless wrinkles in his face, mainly laugh lines as it seems, increase as his eyes fall on Little Green, and he smiles up at him so warmly as if he's just found the prodigal son.

Things get even weirder when Jazz leans forward and whispers into the man's ear, "It's him, right? Told you, it's him."

Mr. Volturi clutches his own chest in a typical Italo-dramatic gesture.

"Edward?" he breathes. "Is that you?"

(PORT ANGELES, MAY 2005)

"As you can see, I have a variety of guitars to choose from. If you want to try a few and play a little, feel free to look around," Aro Volturi told the elegant lady who stood awkwardly in front of the low, glass cabinet that served as his counter desk. From time to time, she threw a glance over her shoulder as if to make sure that there was an emergency exit... just in case.

Aro smirked at her. He was a luthier with heart and soul, and he knew that the masterpieces he had created with his hands sometimes had that effect on people.

"But you know," he winked at the woman, "sometimes it's more like the instrument chooses you instead of the other way round. And these little beauties here often tend to be pretty stubborn; they'll feel if you don't love to play them, if you don't really love the music."

"Oh no," Esme said. "I'm not looking for myself. I want a guitar for my son, Edward."

Once again, she nervously looked at the front window behind her. Aro started to wonder if she was being persecuted. She seemed to be checking for a tail... maybe she had just robbed a bank or something? His handcrafted instruments came at a price, that's for sure, but they weren'tthat expensive!

"His teacher thinks that he might have some musical talent and she suggested having an instrument or two in the house, so they are at his disposal. We just want to see if it is something he would like to try."

Aro frowned. He didn't like where this was going. However, his first impression of this woman was not that of the usual over-ambitious mother who forces her kids into doing something they don't really want, just to impress the other members of her Tuesday bridge circle.

"So the kid doesn't play any instrument yet?"

"No," Esme admitted. "But..."

"And this was his teacher's idea, not his own?"

"Yes... no! I believe he would like to play though."

Esme found the man intimidating; she almost regretted coming here. However, the idea that music might help Edward improve had sounded so convincing. But maybe she should have gone to one of those big stores in Seattle instead of this secret hideout.

"Well, if your son wants to play the guitar, I think it would be best if you bring him here and let him pick his instrument himself," Aro suggested politely but firmly. If the bambino appeared to not really be into it, Aro would simply refuse to sell anything to his mother.

That's how I roll, he thought to himself; none of my beauties will ever help torture an unsuspecting kid. If you love Regina Musica, then she will love you back and protect you when times get rough. But your heart must speak to you; you can't force it, or else the portal to this magic world might close forever.

"That's what I was planning on," Esme said, a little desperately. "He is here, but..."

Once more she looked back over her shoulder, and this time Aro followed her gaze and saw the boy standing outside. The kid was looking down at his shoes, hands in his pockets and shoulders almost pulled up to his ears, as if he was sulking.

"Ahhh..." Aro said softly.

Esme was agitated now. "Listen," she addressed the rebellious Italian shopkeeper, "my son is... Edward is a bit different, okay? He has special needs, like... you know, communicating is really tough for him, but we know he has it in him. We think... we hope that music will help him to express himself. So if you could just help me to find the right instrument, I would be very grateful indeed."

"I see," Aro mumbled thoughtfully, impressed by her barely contained temper. This woman really cared for her child. Instinto materno...ammirabile! If her son was at all passionate like her but just unable to let it out, music might indeed be his catalyst.

"So let him come in," he said, not averting his gaze from the tightly wound boy outside.

"That's the problem," Esme sighed. "He won't come in. I tried, but he just... won't."

They both watched Edward for a few moments. He seemed to be completely unmoving, but Aro noticed that every now and then those long lashes would flutter – then the boy's eyes would dart around, scanning what's behind the glass, and his shoulders would twitch for the briefest moment before he cast his eyes down again.

"Oh, I think he will," Aro replied confidently. "La musica lo chiama. The music is calling out to him... something inside here is calling out to him. Attenzione!"

He slowly walked to the front door and opened it as if to let some air into the room. Without even so much as turning his head in Edward's direction, he returned to his place behind the cabinet.

Leaning on his elbows on the glass surface, he pointed his chin towards the collection of wind instruments inside and said softly, "Why don't we take a look at these flutes for a while instead of making your son more nervous than necessary, Mrs..."

"Cullen," Esme introduced herself to the odd salesman.

"Pleased to meet you, Signora Cullen. I'm Aro Volturi. How do you like the one all the way to the left, the flauto dolce here? Isn't she a beauty? It's a Moeck flute, a very old German manufacturer."

Esme stared at him incredulously; was he serious? She couldn't admire his flutes right now, and she couldn't care less if some hermit in the German Alps had carved that thing out of his own wooden leg. She needed to keep an eye on Edward, for Christ's sake! What if he decided to take a walk, or someone came along the street and he panicked or something? Her head twitched into the direction of the window.

"Don't. Look!" Aro stage-whispered, effectively making Esme freeze. "He's coming inside."

Edward stood in the door, finally able to let his eyes roam freely. He was very glad that Esme had found something else to focus on. He didn't like to be watched all the time. Sometimes, her protectiveness was like a narrow cage that made it impossible for him to move or do anything. It was as if she was literally waiting for him to do something weird or silly.

The funny thing was, if she watched him like that long enough, most of the time he did something weird in the end. Edward was relieved that the old man had distracted her in time before it happened again.

He knew why Esme had brought him here. It had scared him when she told him she wanted to buy a musical instrument, most likely a guitar, because 'it's a good instrument for beginners.' It would be nice to have some musical instrument in the house, she had said.

But Edward wasn't dumb. He knew what she was planning on, and he felt pressurized. Even though he liked music and was intrigued by the idea of an instrument that could lend its 'voice' to him, he didn't want to have just another thing in his life that would add one more proof to his long list of failures. What if the guitar didn't obey his fingers? What if music failed him just like words still did?

He'd come a long way since the day the dog attacked the most important person in his world. He would answer yes-or-no questions, tell Esme whether he was hungry or not, and even report little things from school. He said hello and good-bye, please and thanks. But he couldn't voice any of his deeper thoughts to save his life.

He knew the words, but they were somehow stuck inside. They fought to stay inside of him with claws and teeth; sometimes it felt like they would rip him open on the inside if he tried to force them out. Except for when he was alone with Easybella; with her he could have talked freely. However, he never did, because talking just wasn't necessary with Easybella – she understood him without words.

"La musica ti chiama, no?" a soft voice behind him spoke. Edward didn't turn around. He knew it was the old man, the owner of this shop. Even though Edward didn't know the words, he found their melodic sound very soothing. He nodded his head, in spite of himself, and thought,yes...lamusica lamusica...I think the music likes me. I like music, too.

This place was full of unplayed, unheard music. But Edward could hear the music. It was everywhere around him, trying to find a way inside of him. Or maybe it was the other way round... maybe music had always been inside of him and this place made it want to come out finally. Edward couldn't tell.

"Do you see something you like, ragazzo?" Aro stepped in front of Edward and gestured to the row of concert guitars on the wall. "It's not forbidden to touch these pretty ladies here. If one of them calls your name, let me know. I'll get her down for you."

Edward just stared blankly at the instruments. He couldn't hear a call or anything else from them. But maybe that was just because the music in his mind grew louder by the minute.

"Your mother and I were just looking at some beautiful flutes. Maybe you'd like to take a look, too? They are over there in the cabinet."

Edward turned his head to see where the man was pointing. Encouraged by the boy's reaction, Aro walked over to where Esme was still standing, marveling at the way her son seemed to have some sort of communication with a perfect stranger.

It was only when he heard the sound of a single piano key struck behind him, that Aro noticed the boy hadn't followed him. He turned around to see Edward standing in front of the old baby grand, with his hands behind his back. His mouth was open and he was breathing loudly, as if the fact that he had elicited a sound from the big black thing in front of him scared him to death.

Aro quickly snatched his old piano stool from the backroom where he had used it as he tuned cellos. He carried it over to the piano and left it there with a quiet, "Prego, bambino."

Edward didn't sit down at once; he found the keys were at a comfortable height as it was. But he figured, by offering a chair to him, the man obviously wanted him to know it was alright to touch the big piano, too. So he brought his hands forward again and lifted them above the keys.

Because here's the thing: that single note he had just played had lit up in his head like a firefly at night. He really, really wanted to do it again.

Reluctantly, he stroke the same key once more, and there it was – a golden light in his head, illuminating a certain point in the three-dimensional grid that was the music playing only in his mind. He knew exactly where this light was positioned, even when it was off. He was also aware of the hundreds of other spots in this grid; he just hadn't known that they could be turned on like little lamps.

Excitedly, he pressed another key. The light in his head flashed exactly where he knew it would, but this time it was of a deep purple. A small laugh escaped him unwittingly. He raised his other hand, too, and played both the golden and the purple sounds simultaneously, with a little more force. The colored dots lit up brightly, and they seemed to reach out to each other with glimmering straight lines.

Edward watched his inner visions in awe, with his hands hovering over the keyboard, until the sound had completely died down and the lights and colors had faded to grey again. He gave a loud moan and eagerly climbed onto the piano stool. Totally oblivious now of his two spectators, he started to play a melody. He played it single-handed; his left hand rested limply in his lap. And he played it fluently.

Esme and Aro watched the spectacle with bated breath. Little did they know about the luminescent chain reaction unfolding in the boy's mind. He had closed his eyes, and they could see his eyeballs moving underneath the lids. They could see his body swaying like a willow tree in a breeze, but they knew his mind had gone somewhere else.

Esme recognized the melody he was playing; she had heard Bella sing it a few times on those days when Edward wouldn't go to bed unless Bella agreed to stay by his side until he fell asleep. It was something about a little green and northern lights... yes, that was it. 'Little Green'. A sweet song.

And now he played it by heart. As if that wasn't astounding enough, Edward raised his left hand too, and built a harmonic counterpart on the lower keys, with even a few broken chords thrown in.

All three persons in the room gasped in unison - Esme and Aro because they simply couldn't believe what they were seeing and hearing, and Edward because the fireworks that went off in his head with the musical harmonies he created was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"È incredibile..." Aro whispered and surreptitiously wiped away the single tear that had run down his cheek. "You didn't know that, did you?"

Esme shook her head; she couldn't speak right now. She was mesmerized by the way those delicate fingers danced over the keys as if it was something they always had wanted to do. How Edward could do this was beyond her, but she was beguiled by the way her beautiful son lost himself in the music.

After a while, when she was certain that her voice wouldn't fail her, she turned to Mr. Volturi and said, "I need to buy a piano, don't you think? I need to buy it today!"

(BELLA)

I have no fucking idea what's going on here. The only thing I understand is, everyone seems to know who Edward is, even though he has just assured me that he's never met Jazz before. Mr. Volturi, however, is a different story.

Edward nods his head and says, "Buongiorno, Signor Volturi. Come sta?"

Mr. Volturi's eyes grow wide. He raises his arms and waves his hands as if he's seriously trying to lift off.

"Dio mio, parla Italiano!" he laughs. But then he suddenly stills. "No... aspetta – you are talking! You just talked to me!"

"Yes, I did," Edward says and smiles timidly. The difference between Edward meeting the old storekeeper and Edward meeting young Jazz is striking. He definitely knows the man, and even more, he likes him. And yeah, what the fuck, Edward speaks Italian?

"Signor Volturi, this is my girlfriend Bella," Edward introduces me. He raises our joined hands between us, maybe to emphasize the connection we have. His pride as he calls me his girlfriend is radiating off of him like warm sunbeams.

"Molto piacere, Signorina Bella!" Mr. Volturi takes my hand, but instead of shaking it he bends over and breathes a kiss on my knuckles. "And your name suits you, if I may say so. Una bella ragazza, indeed!"

"Thank you, Mr. Volturi," I answer, resisting the urge to wipe the back of my hand on my jeans.

"Ah please... call me Aro, both of you, per favore. And you already met Jasper, my charming but no-good handyman."

Jazz a.k.a. charming but no-good handyman Jasper grins and tips his Mohawk, apparently his substitute for the non-existent hat.

"It's so wonderful to see you, Edward, all grown up and healthy. And speaking, dio mio! I cannot wait for November, porca miseria! Your mother must be thrilled beyond measure! I'm so... we all are so proud of you!"

I'm still outwardly calm, but I swear I'll be going berserk any moment if I have to endure any more of Aro's audible exclamation marks without someone finally telling me what's going on. Also, it didn't escape me how Edward flinched at the mention of his mother.

Jazz leans down on one elbow on the glass cabinet and raises his right hand as if to give Edward a high five.

"I already got the tix, man. You're a celeb!"

Edward frowns at Jasper's palm, wondering what to do.

"Come on," Jazz chuckles, "gimme five!"

To my surprise, Edward does it. But he doesn't seem to like it, because now he's frowning at his own palm. I think I've had enough!

"Okay," I say, forcing a smile on my face to not let my irritation show. "Can someone please enlighten me? I'm a bit at a loss here... November? Celeb? Tickets?"

The two men look at me incredulously, you know, that too-bad-she-is-pretty-but-batshit-crazy kind of look. Then Jazz wordlessly shoves one of those leaflets that are lying at the side of the cabinet towards me and taps his index finger on it. There's a photo of a huge illuminated concert stage and very little text.

I take it and read. Then I read once more. And then, a third time. I read the words, but they make no sense to me at first. My brain needs a moment to follow...

...

"The Last Wonder of the World"
Friday, November 4, at 8pm
Benaroya Hall.
Downtown Seattle (3rd & Union)

Mateo Messina and Edward A. Cullen, composers
Anthony Spain, conductor
Northwest Symphony Orchestra
featuring piano soloist, Edward A. Cullen

The Last Wonder of the World is the Symphony Guild's
14th annual fundraising concert.
Join us in celebrating the enduring hope
and unbreakable spirit of the patients
at Seattle Children's Hospital
and in all of us.

...

What the...?

I'm rendered speechless.

Partly because this is just un-fucking-believably amazing! Partly because I feel ashamed for not knowing about this.

I realize I never even asked him what he was really doing; it never even crossed my mind to ask him just once about his plans, his graduation, his advances, his career... I mean, he already has a fucking career that everybody but me knows about!

What the hell was I thinking? I made love to him as a man, but unwittingly still pegged him as a boy without a life? I wasn't thinking at all, that's the problem. Or maybe I was just thinking with my lady parts. Oh, Little Green, notwithstanding all the love in my heart, I did so wrong by you...

I feel the heat rise to my cheeks with embarrassment and guilt as I raise my eyes to his face.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I whisper, crestfallen.

He smiles at me as if this is nothing, and shrugs.

"It just didn't came up, I guess."

- - - - -

ITALIAN:
Buongiorno! - Good morning!
bambino - small boy
Regina Musica - Queen Music
Instinto materno... ammirabile! - Motherly instinct... admirable!
La musica lo chiama. -T he music calls out to him.
Attenzione! - Attention!
flauto dolce - recorder (flute)
La musica ti chiama, no? - The music is calling you, right?
ragazzo - boy (kiddo)
Prego, bambino! - Here you go, kiddo!
È incredibile... - This is unbelievable...
Come sta? - How do you do?
Dio mio, parla Italiano! - Oh my God, he speaks italian!
Aspetta! - Wait!
Molto piacere - Very pleased (...to meet you)
una bella ragazza - a beautiful girl
Porca miseria! - Damn!

Little Green and Easybella 21

2012-01-08T10:20:00.000-08:00

(EDWARD)

Boyfriend. She just called me her boyfriend.

It's almost like a new secret name; only it is not a secret. She just introduced me to another person as her boyfriend... officially. My heart leaps for joy. I'll do my utmost to not embarrass her.

I easily fall into the routine of being polite and social, especially since Bella said the Denali girl is her friend. I didn't know that; it's a surprise. But there's just still so much I don't know when it comes to Bella; there's no use mulling over it now.

"Pleased to meet you," I say, because it is the appropriate thing to say, even though it's not entirely true. My memories of Tanya Denali aren't very pleasant. So yes, we've met before. "...again," I add to let her know that I remember her. I also offer a handshake.

Her reaction is unexpected and confusing. She doesn't take my hand but curses at me instead.

"Hot damn!" she blurts out.

"I beg your pardon?" Have I messed up already? What did I do wrong?

I cast an anxious glance at Bella. She's smiling. It can't be that bad then.

"What Tanya is trying to say, if I may translate for you, is that she is pleased to meet you, too, and she thinks that you, uhm... have matured nicely."

I must have looked somewhat quizzical, because Bella adds, "In Tanya speak, you know, 'hot damn' means that you're easy on the eye or something along those lines."

Okay, I get it... it was a joke.

But then Tanya says, "No kidding, dude!"

No joke? Okay. I don't want to appear rude, so I return the sentiment, using her very language code to be on the safe side.

"Thank you, and... hot damn back at you."

I'm pretty sure that, by common standards, she passes for an attractive woman. Many men like big breasts, and hers are enormous. Judging by the way she's showing them off, she must be very proud of them. Tanya seems to go to great effort with her outer appearance, so she probably likes to hear that people acknowledge the result.

As if to prove this to be true, she finally shakes my hand and beams at me, "Oh really? Well, I'm trying, haha. Thank you so much!"

"That's such a sweet thing of you to say, Edward," Bella also approves.

I smile at her, happy that I did this to her liking. "I'm just being polite, that's all."

"...the fuck?" Tanya gasps and drops her arms. Her breasts immediately move down a few inches and wiggle dangerously. I briefly wonder if it hurts, considering how big they are.

Bella bursts into giggles next to me.

"What is it?" I demand to know.

I'm not sure what's going on, but it appears I have unintentionally offended Tanya? I get the notion that, technically speaking, I kind of took back my 'hot damn' comment by admitting that I was just being polite. Maybe that wasn't the smartest thing to do. On the other hand, being polite is the opposite of being offensive. I keep forgetting that, even though politeness is what people expect and appreciate when you meet them for the first time, they don't want to be reminded of that.

Bella snorts, "Oh my... that is just... priceless...!"

I give a small chuckle myself, much to my own surprise. Normally, I would become very uneasy at how much confusing this entire conversation is, but Bella's outburst is so wonderful to watch that I can't bring myself to regret whatever funny thing I might have just said. I love light-hearted Bella; I want to see her that way all day.

"Ha, ha," Tanya deadpans, "this is so not funny!"

But she is laughing, too. I can see her shoulders shaking as she turns to me.

"Dude, you certainly know how to give a lady a good time!"

Ah well... apparently, I do. They are having a lot of fun. Bella is still wiping her eyes and grinning when Tanya punches her playfully.

"Congrats, Swan, you scored a rare specimen here. An honest man - if that isn't refreshing..."

"I know," Bella says and squeezes my hand. She looks at me so lovingly that my breath catches in my chest for a moment.

"Eddie, you're the bomb. I really like you," Tanya declares surprisingly.

"You do?" I blurt, unbelieving.

"Yep!"

She doesn't even really know me, yet she seems genuine. I really wanted Bella's friend to like me, but now I'm kind of shocked at how easy this was. She flashes her teeth at me with a wide grin, and for a moment I'm distracted by the bit of smeared lipstick on one of her front teeth. I realize only then that I'm looking at her mouth. My eyes have actually left the safe spot a while ago, and I didn't even notice.

Focusing on that small lipstick mark, I ask, "Why?"

"What, why? Why I like you?"

"Yes."

"Because you're gorgeous, for starters. I mean, totally hot damn, ok? And you don't even know it, which is double hot fucking damn in my book. And second, because you made my new BFF Bella here finally pull that stick out of her ass, which was about fucking time, if you ask me. And last but not least, it's nice to meet a man who doesn't lose ninety percent of his brain capacity at the sight of my girls, for a change. I could come up with more, if you want me to, but you already look like my cousin before going all Boston Legal, so I'd better stop."

I have no idea what she's saying, or how this is supposed to explain why she likes me. For a moment, I feel the overwhelming urge to cover my ears with my hands and hide in that soothing hum of my own blood, like I did when I was a child... before I learned how to just shut off other people's verbiage with my mind.

Maybe it's because I have Bella with me, I don't know, but that moment passes quickly. I find that I'm fine, despite all the confusion. Tanya's odd way of speaking makes me feel light-headed, but not in a bad way. I just wish was able to keep up...

"I'm sorry, but I think I lost you after the 'double hot fucking damn'," I say.

"Tanya is trying to be funny," Bella assures me, "that's just her, don't worry. I'll explain everything to you later."

It never bothered me much if people were making jokes at my expense; I'm somewhat used to it and learned to let the ridicule drip off of me. But this is different. I can see that Tanya isn't making fun of me but rather with me; her way of being funny is obviously supposed to give us a good time. If anything, she's making fun of herself.

That's new. And interesting...

"She is funny," I say, finally recognizing this weird bubbly feeling inside of me as amusement.

Before I avert my gaze again, I see Tanya squinting her eyes at me.

"Are you just being polite again? Because really, Eddie, I don't think I can take much more of that politeness of yours."

This time, she can't fool me. "That's a trick question, right?"

My response totally cracks them both up, and it is contagious; I can't contain my own laughter. Bella covers her mouth with her hand, chortling hysterically into her palm. Tanya throws both arms up in the air and guffaws.

"Oh my God, I love this guy!" she hollers. "I want to hug the shit out of him right fucking now!"

The sudden tinge of panic I feel at her words must show on my face, because Bella quickly interjects,

"Uh no, Tanya... enough, ok?"

"Don't worry," Tanya backs down after taking a few deep breaths to steady herself. "I can keep my hands to myself. Plus, Bella here would probably stab me in the eye if I touched that hot chassis of yours, so you're safe... for now!"

I'm not sure, but I think she just winked at me.

"Tanya!" This time, Bella sounds actually a little concerned.

"It's okay," I say. "She's just kidding again." I think? I really hope so.

"You've got that right," Tanya laughs. "Okay, why don't you guys go and enjoy your impromptu date before lunch break is over? And take your time; I have everything here under control. Today is pretty uneventful anyway."

"Are you sure?" Bella asks. "I mean, I could -"

"Uh-uh, no back talk! I don't want to see you again here within the next hour, minimum. Shall I go in the back and fetch you your coat, or are you capable of getting it yourself? Seriously, I'm starting to worry..." She gestures to my and Bella's still joined hands. "Do we need a doctor to separate those surgically?"

"That's really sweet of you. Thanks!" Bella lets go of me and gives Tanya a hug. "I'll go and get changed; I'll be back in a second," she tells me and runs off, leaving me standing here.

I think I will just keep staring at Tanya's lipstick-smeared perma-grin; I'm getting used to looking at her mouth instead of looking past her. It works just fine, even better than the shoulder spot. I'm sure she doesn't even notice that I'm not really making eye-contact. I'm good at this; she clearly thinks I'm just plainly facing her.

However, I should probably make conversation. Because staring at someone without talking to them is rude. Fortunately, Tanya gives me a cue.

"So, did you plan anything for your date?"

"Yes," I answer, relieved. "I want to take Bella to Volturi's and buy a wrest."

She raises her brows. "Oh really? How romantic!"

"You think so?" I haven't looked at it that way.

"Gosh, no! I don't even know what the hell a wrest is!"

"Okay." She was joking again. Irony... I really should have figured it out by now. I guess she doesn't really want to know about the wrest either, so I don't bother to explain. "Actually, I think I should make sure Bella gets something to eat."

She snorts and shakes her head. "You don't have any sense of humor that you know about, do you?"

"I'm getting there, don't worry." I assure her. "I'm pretty smart."

"I bet you are, Edward. You're probably one of the smartest guys I ever met. And I'm not kidding now, just so you know."

I notice, for the first time, it's 'Edward', not 'Eddie' or 'dude'. And I understand. She calls me by my real name to let me know that she means what she's saying. I'm surprised. I wouldn't have trusted her to be so subtle.

"I think, you're pretty smart, too," I say, disarmed by her sincerity. "And I'm not being polite now, just so you know."

She nods her head a few times. Solemnly. Silently.

"Eddie?"

"Yes?"

"I've got lipstick on my teeth, haven't I?"

Little Green & Easybella Chapter 20

2012-01-08T10:19:00.000-08:00

(BELLA)

~ 5:45 a.m. ~

I wake up long before my alarm bell rings. Again!

It's not even daylight. Like so often lately, since Jake moved out, I start from my sleep, gasping with a rush of adrenaline, but without the slightest idea why or what I might have dreamed. Nothing extraordinary about this, except that this time there's an arm around me, pulling me closer to a warm body behind me, and a voice whispering,

"Shhh... Bella. 'S okay."

Edward.

I'm not alone.

I relax immediately. This feels so right, all of it... his smell, the warmth, the texture of his skin, the way my breathing is slowing down until it synchronizes with the soothing rise and fall of his chest against my back.

He waits until I'm perfectly calm again before he asks softly, "A dream?"

"No. Or maybe... I don't know. Sorry I woke you up."

"You didn't."

He was up all night?

"Haven't you slept yet? What have you been doing?"

"Nothing. Holding you."

We're still in the same position we were in when I fell asleep, as far as I can tell. I'm not really surprised though. No one can keep as still as Edward... or as long. When he was a kid, he could easily hold the same posture for hours when his mind was occupied with something. It was almost scary.

"You don't have to do that. If you can't sleep, you can get up and... do something."

"I know," he says and kisses my shoulder.

"I mean, I need to sleep a bit more because I have to work in a few hours. But you can just make yourself at home. Just... do what you want, Edward, ok?"

He hugs me even tighter. "I'm already doing what I want to do."

~ 7:32 a.m. ~

"Bella?"

"Mmmhyeah?"

"You need to wake up."

Kisses. Lots of them. Little, tender pecks on my neck and down my spine. So sweet... I'm not ready yet, not yet...

"Just five more minutes, please..."

~ 7:37 a.m. ~

"Bella?"

"Hmmm?"

"You need to wake up now. You'll be late for work."

"Uh uhm... nooo, not before the clock rings."

And not with that warm, velvety presence I'm snuggling in.

"I turned it off."

Oh, really? Well... hmmm...

~ 7:50 a.m. ~

First thing I notice, as I slowly drift out of my slumber, is the delicious smell of coffee. Not the weak whiff that use to waft in through the window sometimes from the coffee shop downstairs, but the strong aroma of freshly brewed, hot coffee in a steaming mug right under my nose. It's pleasant.

The second thing I notice is the absence of Edward's warm body, which is rather unpleasant. I open my eyes to find said body kneeling in front of my bed, and indeed, holding the steaming mug of coffee I had just imagined right under my nose.

"Good morning," he says and flashes me the most brilliant smile.

He is fully dressed and clean-shaven. Apparently, he's been in a hurry doing his morning wash – the razor blade left a small scratch under his chin, and a little white flake of shaving foam got caught in his left ear. It's endearing, somehow. I reach out and brush it away with my thumb.

"Morning, yourself," I mumble sleepily and sit up.

Edward wordlessly hands me the coffee and takes a seat on the edge of the mattress. His hand comes to rest on my knee over the blanket. Smiling and wide-eyed, he watches me take the first cautious sip. He looks at me as if I were brand-new, as if I were a much longed for, shiny new toy he's now laying eyes upon for the first time ever. It's kind of surreal.

I look back at him in silence. Maybe I'm wearing a similar expression, I don't know; It feels like I am. I'm taking more sips of the coffee (he made coffeefor me!), holding his gaze over the rim of the mug. My gulping is awkwardly loud.

"This... mmh, this is good," I compliment him. "Thank you."

His smile grows impossibly wider. "You're welcome."

"How late is it?"

"The alarm went off like twenty minutes ago. That's ok, right? You're not too late yet?"

"No, it's perfect. I need to get dressed in a bit though."

I slowly incline my head to the left and to the right and flinch at the sound of a vertebrae snapping. My neck and shoulders feel pretty stiff. Yesterday's events, the good and the bad, are taking their toll, I guess. I'm a little sore all over.

And it doesn't go unnoticed. Edward's smile falters.

"Are you..." he starts but stops mid-question, his lips left parted. The indication of a frown appears for a split-second and his hand squeezes my knee reflexively, as he seems to process something at lightning speed. It's intriguing to watch.

"Are you all right..." he starts again, and then pointedly adds, "...baby?"

It makes my stomach flutter. I cover his hand on my knee with mine and merely breathe my answer.

"Yes, I am. Just need to warm up a little. Not much of a morning person, you know?"

He looks down on our hands and interlaces fingers with me. "It's okay when I call you that, right? When I call you 'baby'?"

"I like it. Very much."

He looks up, and there is his smile again.

"Because you're my girlfriend now?"

Dear Lord...!

"Yeah... I guess I am."

I put the mug down on the nightstand; it suddenly weighs a ton. My hand is shaking and I need to take a deep breath to steady myself, but of course... holy shit, I'm his girlfriend!

"And what about my uhm... boyfriend?" I ask back, giving a shot at teasing. "Did you not sleep at all?"

He shakes his head no. I shake mine in mock disapproval. We both smile at each other like idiots. Did I mention how surreal all of this is?

"Little Green and Easybella, huh?" I whisper.

"Yes," he sighs and slowly bends forward, putting his arms around my waist. He rests his head in my lap and closes his eyes. "Yes..."

~ 8:47 a.m. ~

Tanya is leaning in the doorframe of the drugstore's backroom, arms crossed in front of her remarkable rack. Her mouth is twisted into what I believe is supposed to be a pout, and she keeps tapping one foot as she watches me change into my work gear. I pretend not to notice that right now my unsually silent co-worker is the epitome of suppressed impatience.

Of course, there comes the point when she can't take it any more. "Jesus... speak, woman!"

"About what?" I'm all innocence.

"Oh, come on!" she groans. "Why don't you tell me whose car you just exited, for starters?"

"Nope, I don't think so. Let's just get to work, ok? I've got some shelves to replenish."

Cue a Tanya epic eye-roll.

~ 9:25 a.m. ~

Tanya is leaning against the rack with the feminine hygiene articles, arms crossed in front of what she claims to be Mother Nature's gifts (even though my boob-job radar goes bonkers if I so much as glance at those 'gifts'). She's chewing gum, quite noisily. Alhough I'm working with my back to her, I know she is scowling at me.

I try to ignore her and keep on tagging goods as if there's no tomorrow, but I swear if she doesn't stop popping those gum bubbles really soon, bad things are going to happen. I wish for a customer to come in, or better yet a bunch of customers to keep her occupied. But of course, there's no such luck.

"Ok, what was it with you and Mr. Cullen yesterday, huh?"

"It's Doctor Cullen."

"Yeah, whatever... I want to know why you gave him shit – which was pretty awesome by the way – and what was it about? And who the fuck dropped you off here this morning?"

"You won't let this go, huh?"

Tanya, "Nope." Bubble gum, 'Pop!'

Dangit...

"Well, then I hope you enjoy disappointment."

"Spill it, Swan, you know you will tell me everything eventually anyway," she retorts quite cheerfully.

And the trouble is, she's right: I will tell her. Not because Tanya and I are close friends, but because if I don't spill the beans, she'll never stop bugging me. Or worse, she'll just get the wrong ideas.

There's no way out. I figure if gossip cannot be avoided, I'd better perform some damage control right now by at least steering it into the right direction. Without lifting my eyes off my task, I speak as casually as possible.

"It was Edward, if you need to know. And yesterday with Carl... Dr. Cullen, that was just a misunderstanding. I had dinner with the Cullens yesterday, and that's it. For good old times' sake and all." Well, sort of...

"Wait... Edward? That mousy Cullen kid you babysat when we went to high school together?"

"Yep, that one."

"Wow, I didn't even know they kept him."

"Oh, come on!" I glare at her. "Seriously, Tanya?"

She shrugs. "Sorry, but all I know is what everyone knows: that he was gone one day. Rumor had it the Cullens were unable to cope with a disabled kid any more, so..."

"This is ridiculous. And besides, Edward is not disabled."

I resume tagging shampoo bottles, wielding the label machine angrily like a weapon. That's what people were thinking? That Esme and Carlisle had dropped Edward like a white elephant?

"Edward went to a boarding school. It was a special school for autistic children where they had programs for highly gifted students like him."Highly gifted, Denali, take that!

"Autistic?"

"And highly gifted!" Jesus, do I speak Swahili? "You would have known if you just had asked me instead of listening to the gossip."

"Maybe, but we weren't exactly friends in high school, remember? I mean, dude, you didn't really talk to anyone anyway, except for those kids from the reservation you hang out with. And well, the impeccable Cullens, of course."

Right. And no one would ask the Cullens what's going on neither. They were like the town celebrities; people didn't talk to them, people just talked aboutthem.

"I talked to Angela," I object weakly. "And Ben."

"Oh yeah, the nerd club," she snorts. "I hate to say it, sweetie, but that didn't help increasing your general popularity much, either."

I roll my eyes at her snippy comment, even though she's got a point here. But my display of disapproval doesn't impress her much anyway.

"So little Eddy is back, huh? How old is he anyway?"

"He is eighteen."

"Uh, yeah?"

"And a half!"

For a minute or two, the only sound in the room is the clacking of my labeler and the annoying popping of her gum bubbles. The silence means Tanya Denali is thinking. Which is probably bad.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

Pop.

"And he was the one who drove you to work this morning?"

Clack. Pop. Clack.

"Yes."

Pop.

She gasps. "Swan!"

And here we go...

"Are you telling me you are screwing Rainman?"

~ 11:32 a.m. ~

Tanya is leaning on the cash desk, arms crossed tightly in front of... well, you know what. Her boobs almost meet her chin that way, and I could swear she does this on purpose while she waits for the customer to collect his change.

The poor dude is pretty flustered; a middle age family man who just bought a pack of disposable diapers and now can't take his eyes off of Tanya's display. No fair, but funny. I shake my head at her, but can't suppress a grin.

When the guy finally leaves, she slumps down in that wobbly old swivel chair and her female anatomy assumes a halfway natural form again. "Man," she giggles, "did you see this? What was wrong with that dude? And who pays cash these days anyway?"

"You're outrageous, Denali!"

She laughs. "I know! What do you think, will he dream of the hot drugstore babe tonight when doing the missionary with the good wifey?"

"Bitch!" I say.

"Cougar!" she fires back.

"Ouch..." I clutch at my heart dramatically.

We both grin.

In the last two hours I have learned some surprising things about my bosses' cheeky daughter, and I found that I actually really like her.

First off, Tanya isn't stupid. She is neither thoughtless nor mean. One mustn't be fooled by her loose tongue or her packaging. Even though her choice of words may leave a lot to be desired, she is not in the least judgmental but rather one of the most open-minded people I ever met.

All it took to find that out was a decent fight, in the course of which we not only determined that I am not in a sexual relationship with Dustin Hoffman, but also that Edward in no way resembles 'that fidgeting dude from Boston Legal'. It also turned out that she has some knowledge about autism. She impressed me using terms like 'on the spectrum' and 'high-functioning', while at the same time giving me shit for scolding her earlier.

"I have a distant cousin, ok? I don't see him very often, but little Riley is a damn smart Aspie, if you ask me. When he started speaking a year ago, he did so in English and Russian fluently. He was seven years old then! So you can stop peeing your panties, Miss Political Correctness. "

That shut me up.

"But my cousin still fidgets like the Boston Legal dude, no shit!"

That made me roll my eyes again.

"I call him Rainman all the time and he loves it."

Let's just say Tanya and I do not share the same sense of humor.

~ 12:45 p.m. ~

"So I take it, the good doctor's wife is not exactly fond of the idea of you and Edward together. What if she kicks you out of your apartment?"

I gasp at Tanya's question, not sure what to say. That thought didn't even occur to me yet.

"What?" she asks with a shrug, "I'm just thinking practical here. Seems like Mother Teresa has pretty much lost her shit already; who knows what's next."

"Don't call her that," I say. "And she won't do that to me." Or would she?

"Oh, to be the fly on the wall when you have that conversation with her..." Tanya grins. "But you promise me, no retreat, no surrender, ok? And if anything happens, you know, with your apartment... I just want you to know that you can always have my couch, as long as necessary."

"Thanks. You are a sweetheart," I say, meaning it. Because that's another thing I've learned today; she really is a sweetheart. Even though I have known her since high school and have worked with her in the drugstore for several weeks now, I just never gave her a chance to show her true self.

Maybe it was the story of her cousin that made me finally feel a certain bond to her. Maybe it was the way she cheered upon hearing that Edward was my new boyfriend instead of jumping to one of the hundreds of obvious possibilities to judge me. Or maybe I just needed someone to talk to. I don't know.

But I told her the complete story, and it felt good. Well, not the completecomplete story, of course. Even though such a thing as 'too much information' apparently didn't exist for Tanya...

"… and how long did it take you two to get it on anyway?" - "What is it like to have sex with an aspie man?" - "Does he know how to talk dirty? Wait, he does talk, right?" - "Is he good with his hands? I once fucked a bass player who was practically blind, and I..."

Well, you get the idea. I wisely kept certain things to myself and ignored her pouting at my 'none of your business' comment.

Right now I feel the urge to give her a hug for so generously offering me an emergency refuge, when she suddenly and completely incoherently exclaims a loud, "Holy crap!"

"What is it?" Startled, I turn around to find out what she's gaping at, and what I see makes my heart do a happy little jump.

Outside on the sidewalk stands a very tall and very handsome Little Green, staring at the glass door. His lips are moving as if giving himself a pep talk or something. Apparently the windows are reflecting the daylight too much for him to see anything inside the store.

"Oooh... come in, cupcake, don't be shy," Tanya chants excitedly. "Come, kitty kitty... come..."

"What is Edward doing here?" I ask at the same time.

"Oh my god, are you fucking kidding me? This is Edward?" Tanya points a multi-colored fake fingernail at my boyfriend, almost accusingly. "THIS is Edward Cullen? Where has that little bag of bones gone that you used to drag around eight years ago? Swan, you lucky bitch!"

I can't address her outburst right now, because Edward has finally decided to enter the store. Tanya straightens her torso and composes herself to lean against the next best rack.

"Denali?" I say over my shoulder as I head for the front door to meet Edward.

"Yes?"

"Don't cross your arms!"

"What? Why?" Her face registers utter bewilderment.

"Just don't, ok?"

She huffs, and crosses her arms. Of course.

The door opens, Edward's eyes fall upon me and the smile that lights up his face would be sufficient to supply the town of Forks with its yearly requirement of energy.

"Hi," I say, properly dazzled.

He reaches for my hand, but then he spots Tanya behind me and falters. His eyes quickly snap back to mine. He bends forward a little and kind of conspiratorially whispers, "Can I touch you here? Is it... appropriate?"

"Yes," I whisper back, equally secretive, "totally appropriate. You may even kiss me if you want to."

He thinks about it for a second. After side-eyeing Tanya once more, he says, "I guess I just want to hold your hand, if that's ok."

"Sure." I take his hand. "It's perfectly fine with me. But what are you doing here?"

"Picking you up? Lunch break?"

Wow! Okay...

Behind me, Tanya dramatically clears her throat.

"Edward, would you like to meet my co-worker?"

I hope I'm not asking too much; I'm a little insecure about this. I'd never tiptoed around him when he was a child, but somehow things are different now. He nods his head, yes, ever so slightly, not entirely convinced this is a good idea, but he follows me willingly as I drag him along. I watch his reactions carefully as I make the introduction.

"Tanya, this is my boyfriend Edward Cullen. Edward, this is Tanya Denali, future owner of this place and my... friend." Gosh, two days ago I wanted a cat to save me from dying of solitude, and suddenly I have both a boyfriend and a friend. "I suppose, you both remember each other?"

Edward's manners are impeccable. With a polite smile, he gives a little nod. His eyes immediately find the safe spot above Tanya's left shoulder. And there they stay, unwaveringly avoiding her gaze and, to my delight, also the protruding area above her crossed arms.

"Pleased to meet you... again," he says, velvet voice and all, and reaches out his hand.

Tanya doesn't even blink.

"Hot damn!" she says.

Little Green & Easybella Chapter 19

2011-11-14T13:06:00.000-08:00

(EDWARD)

Driving home is tough.

Driving. Home.

Driving around in my own car is one of the things I've been looking forward to the most. Now all I'm looking forward to is getting home and out of this car as soon as possible. If I only could look at Bella there in the passenger seat... I want to touch her, but I can't. I need to keep my eyes on the road and my hands on the wheel.

We don't talk during the ride, and I'm glad. Not sure I could manage driving and talking. It's hard enough as it is right now... driving and thinking, driving and feeling. Even driving and breathing at the same time is a feat.

My body ought to know how to breathe by itself, without me paying attention, but it doesn't. If I don't remind my lungs to work, if I don't intentionally order my heart to keep beating, I might just pass out at the wheel. Right now I'm operating my body like I'm operating the car. Clutch, brake, breathe, shift gear, gas pedal, breathe, indicate, rearview mirror, breathe, pull over, clutch, brake...

Hands off the wheel. Out of gear. Out of breath.

"Edward? Why are we stopping here?"

Because when you told me that you love me I somehow disconnected from my own body and the physical universe in general. Because the only way to keep myself from falling to pieces is to touch you. Because I need a break, or else I will crash this car. Because...

"... this is not safe," I say and shut down the engine.

(EDWARD)

We're home at last.

Bella drove us. She didn't even ask me what was wrong after I had stopped on the side of the road; she just saw I was out of it and made us swap places. We kept holding hands during the entire rest of the ride, and I felt grounded again.

I whispered 'I love you' to her over and over, compulsively... I couldn't stop. She didn't say it back, but she smiled every time. And she squeezed my hand, twice. But she didn't say it. It was ok though – I mean, she was the one driving then. And driving and talking is tough. She didn't talk at all until we arrived home.

Home.

When we walk up the three steps to the front door, we both get out our keys. We freeze for a second, looking at each other. Bella bursts into giggles and I join her easily. It's easy to laugh with her, now that we are here. Easy to breathe, too. No need to think about it any more, no need to think about how to breathe or what to feel.

Easy. Easy with Bella. Easybella...

"Ok, you unlock it," she says, still grinning.

So I do. While I hold the door open for her, I realize that I have no idea whether we're going to her place or mine. She hasn't even seen my place yet, and I'm not sure that I want her to. Not before my piano is tuned properly anyway. I want to play for her which is out of question with the flat C... no way.

I'm relieved to see her heading straight for her own apartment.

With the key already inside the lock, she hesitates for a moment.

"You still hungry? It will take me a few minutes to throw something edible together, so... I don't know, do you want to go upstairs in the meantime, freshen up or something?"

I don't want to go anywhere. I want to be right here, with her. "No."

"No as in, you're not hungry any more? Or... no, you don't want to go to your own apartment?"

I realize that once again I'm not speaking enough, no idea why. Here I am with the single person I really want to talk to, and I just don't. Bella shouldn't have to ask questions like that. She deserves better. And I can do better.

"I don't want to go anywhere you are not, and I don't want to invite you upstairs unless I can play some of the songs I wrote for you when I was eleven. Actually, I would like to write a new song for you before I take you to my place for the first time. But I need to fix my piano first anyway, so no – I don't want to go to my own apartment."

Her jaw drops, which makes me a little anxious, so I hurry to continue speaking.

"And you don't need to make anything to eat, not for me anyway. I think I'm not hungry any more. Of course, if you want to eat something...? I could help you in the kitchen if you'd like? Or I could make something for you. Are you hungry, Bella?"

She blinks a few times before she shakes her head no. I wonder if she's really ok. I'm getting even more nervous because she doesn't say a word. Of course, I haven't addressed all of her questions yet...

"If you were indicating that I need to wash up... I will, if you want me to. Do I smell? I don't want to smell bad or something when we touch. And I want to touch you... a lot. But maybe I could use your bathroom instead of mine?"

That was all, I guess. Except for...

"I love you, Bella. I was thinking that you... actually... I was hoping you'd let me spend the night again."

Please?

"Oh God," she sighs and closes her eyes. But she is smiling. That's good.

And she finally turns the key. That's good, too, because when she opens the door and I follow her inside, I'm calming down immediately. The idea that she might have wanted to sleep alone didn't even occur to me until just a minute ago, and it shook me to the core. But as soon as the door snaps shut behind me, I feel safe. Home.

And things get even better when she starts speaking again. When she turns to me and takes my hand. When her body comes so close to mine that my spine starts tingling. When she lifts her face and licks her lips before she says just the right thing. So much better...

"I want you to stay the night, too."

Yes!

"And you don't smell bad, Edward, not at all. I really don't know why I said anything like that. Maybe it's because I could use a shower myself. I really do; it's been a hell of a long day for me."

Oh...

"I don't mind waiting." I regret saying this as soon as the words leave my mouth, because it's not true. I know I will count the seconds while she's alone in her bathroom. I also know this isn't an ok behavior, and I suppose it will be getting better, but just not today. "You don't smell bad either though."

She gives a quiet laugh. "Yes, I do."

I'm getting desperate. "Maybe you could leave the bathroom door ajar?"

"Maybe you could join me in the shower?"

My mind goes blank for a moment before it is assaulted by countless images of naked Bella in quick succession... her skin, wet, my hands on her, her hands on me... I feel my body temperature rising. I'm getting a little weak in the knees all of a sudden and my mouth is almost too dry to speak, what with my breathing speeding up. But I manage to whisper an answer.

"Yes please."

(EDWARD)

I've seen her naked and wet before. But this time it is so much better.

This time, I'm not feeling any concern about her well-being or about a possible pregnancy. I know she's fine. I can tell by the way she moves and smiles; even by the way she looks at me over her shoulder as she turns on the water.

And this time, I did not attack her on the kitchen floor like a mindless animal, but gave her pleasure just an hour ago without even being inside her. Even though I wanted to have my penis inside her, this is so much better. Because this time I'm not wondering if she'll ever love me back. This time she already said the words.

This is so much better. Who knew that words could ever become so essential? I want her to say it again; I want to say it to her again, even though I said it a lot already. But right now all I can do is watch.

I'm standing here in the bathroom door, as naked as Bella. No clothes are covering my arousal; no well-practiced mannerisms are hiding my want. I am bare in front of her, inside and out. My eyes are glued to her, my penis is pointing up and towards her, almost absurdly, twitching like a broken compass needle. And I'm watching.

The way her hair turns almost black as it gets soaked. The way her breasts move a little higher as she lifts her arms to stroke the wet locks back. I'm watching. I'm taking mental photos, several pictures per second. They're piling up in my mind, more and more of them... material for the most beautiful flip-book ever.

Drops of water trembling in her spiky lashes, under her nose and on her smiling lips where she's licking them away again and again... lick... smile... lick... I'm watching.

"Edward..."

The rivulets glistening on her breasts, zig-zagging downwards like living beings on the run, breaking up and converging on their way down, leaving liquid pearls that get stuck on her nipples for the briefest moment before they drip down, quickly followed by another one... and another one... identical beads... get stuck... drip down... get stuck... drip down... I'm watching, I'm watching.

"Edward, love... won't you come in?"

Love!

I'm in the tub with my body pressing against hers and my hands cupping her face, and I don't even recall walking over. I don't know when... how... did I get in here? Doesn't matter. All that matters is my mouth on hers. All that matters is that it's my tongue now licking the water off her lips, and the friction down there, the glorious feeling of my erection against her belly.

I'm enveloped in a veil of warm spray mist that is saturated with the most dazzling and enticing scent I know. My eyes want to roll back into my head as it hits me, the scent of my Bella, her womanly essence. And here I was thinking that it could be washed away, that simple water could take away its power. I flare my nostrils and let it fill me as I plunge my tongue into Bella's mouth.

She moans and squirms, and it's driving me crazy. I press harder into her, pushing her against the tiles, but it is not enough... not close enough. Her skin is hot and silky under the spray, and slippery where I'm rubbing my painfully hard erection against her. I bend in my knees and thrust my hips upwards, grinding against her. I'm going to come if I keep this up just a little longer, and I want to come. I want to come so badly. Is this me, making those noises? Those... grunts? The groan vibrating on my tongue, me or her? I can't tell...

Sure it is ok for me to come here in the shower, even without a condom... the water will wash it away, right? I'm losing it; I couldn't stop moving my hips for the life of me. The sweet torture building in my groin is making me... I'm gone, reduced to a tiny, meaningless spot somewhere in my mind, still watching. Only now I'm watching myself. And Bella. Bella and myself. I'm helplessly watching.

She breaks the kiss and I open my eyes. With her head thrown back against the tile wall, she is looking at me under half-closed lids. Her jaw has gone slack; she is breathing heavily through her open mouth. It's the face of an angel. Her hand is sneaking between our bodies, working its way down to where I'm burning, and... oh God, I know where this is going... I back off just the tiniest bit to give her room, so she can... oh...

Her fingers are on my penis, lightly stroking the underside, teasing, teasing... I hold my breath. Her eyes pierce into mine as she lets her fingertips glide up from the root to the tip. Just once. Slowly. I gasp. I want to look down, I want to see what she is doing to me, I want to watch. But her eyes are holding me hostage.

She wraps her hand around my length and she... her... I don't know, with her thumb? She gently pulls down the foreskin and rubs(withherthumb?)the exposed tip. I suck in a sharp breath. I don't know why, but I groan a loud "Fuck!" And again, "Fuck, fuck...!"

I don't know why I'm saying this; it's definitely not the right thing to say when you're bursting with love and pleasure, but I can't help it. And Bella? She smiles at me! I brace myself against the tiles behind her, quickly turning into a throbbing, shaking mess with each of her strokes, and absolutely unable to stop that insulting chant.

"Fuck, Bella, fuck... fuuuuck... "

And she smiles at me!

I'm thrusting into her hand now, relentlessly, almost violently... and she smiles. I am hers, head to toe. Right now, she holds the power to destroy me or to make me whole. She holds all the power, and I wouldn't want it any other way. My Bella, my love... I'm too close... no control... I'm hers.

And then she says the words and closes her eyes, finally setting mine free.

She says the words, and I cry out as the giant wave of pleasure pulls me under.

I watch my semen hitting her stomach in thick spurts and running down, mingling with the pouring water, just as she says the words.

Then the world around me disappears, and all that is left are those words. The words she said still linger when I come back to my senses...

"I love you, Edward."

(EDWARD)

"You were talking a lot today," Bella mumbles into the comforter that's covering us up to our chins. She's wrapped up in my arms, with her back molding into me. Skin to skin. She said we're spooning. I like spooning.

"Yeah... I thought, you appreciate it when I talk."

"I do. I'm just still getting used to a talking Little Green. I want to hear everything you are willing to tell me about yourself."

She shivers a little and I hold her tighter. "You're still cold?"

"No," she says, "you are so warm; it's wonderful."

I hadn't noticed how much the water had cooled down until she reached for the faucet and ushered me out of the tub. I could have sat there forever, holding her and replaying the last minutes in my mind over and over. But her teeth were chattering. So we dried off quickly and settled in her bed.

"Talking to you is easy. With you, a lot of things are much easier for me. It's always been that way. With you, I really want to talk. Only with you."

Her hands squeeze my arm that's lying around her shoulders. "I know."

She is so small in my embrace, so delicate. Like I'm holding a fragile treasure close to me. I want to keep her safe from any harm. It's a new concept, as regards the two of us. Looking back, the Easybella of my childhood days was the strong one of us. She always knew what to do, and she was the one protecting me.

Of course, I've outgrown her physically, but that's not it. When I was little, it never occurred to me that she might be scared of anything. Well, except for the dog. The way she handled the dog incident was disturbing. But apart from that... no. She had been my rock, my shelter. Always.

But now it is like she's got some sort of predetermined breaking point, waiting for the pressure of whatever is troubling her to become too much. A weak spot in her soul that just hasn't been hit yet by pure chance. She is still strong, beautiful and strong, but also always on guard.

I haven't figured it out yet. But I feel protective of her. And it's a weird feeling. I don't know where to put it, or what to do with it. But it just won't go away.

I want to make her feel safe. I want to make her feel good. Always.

I bury my nose in her hair and inhale deeply. It's still damp, and it smells so good. Everything of Bella smells good.

"Bella, did you like what I did in my room? When I made love to you with my mouth only?"

"Mhh-hmm..."

"Really? Do you want me to do it again... some time, I mean?"

She takes a deep breath. "Hmm... 's not disgusting? The taste?"

What? Is she serious? My head jerks up. "No! Hell, no – the taste is..."

"Mmh... yeah?" she mumbles drowsily and turns her head to look at me. Her eyes are almost closed, she's already half asleep.

"You are tired, Bella. You need to rest." There it is again, this strong sense of protectiveness. The urge to care for her in every possible way courses through me like a hot rush.

"No," she protests weakly, "what's wi' the taste?" I can hear the smile in her sleepy voice.

"It's... well..." I need a word. I squeeze my eyes shut. "It's..."

"C'mon, lil' Green, I wanna know."

"It's yummy!"

"Oohhh..." she sighs, and then her whole body starts shaking with laughter.

Oh God, I love it when she's laughing! Even if it's just quiet, muffled giggles into the thick feather pillow. I nuzzle her neck, grinning so wide that my cheeks hurt.

"It's delicious... intoxicating... sweet... addictive... best taste in the world..." Well, that wasn't too bad!

"Then I wantcha to do it again," she says with a last snort.

I hug her tighter. It must be true happiness, this elating mix of excitement and calmness that makes my heart beat faster and my stomach tingle. I can't stop smiling.

"I think I am really happy, Bella. You're making me happy."

"...hmme too... happpp..." she mumbles.

I can't even imagine sleeping alone any more, without her warm body curled into me. I never knew it could be like this. I feel like I'm bursting with happiness; I'm wide-awake.

"I love you, Bella," I whisper with all the devotion I have in me; I just need to get it out.

"Mmmphmm..."

I place a kiss on the back of her head. "Sleep well, my love."

I spent the rest of the night watching her sleep, watching over her and listening to the new song that's rising in my heart and mind all by itself. I just need to write it down.

Tomorrow, I'll buy a wrest and fix my piano.

Chapter Notes:

For those who are not familiar with musical instruments and wondering what the heck Little Green's going to buy:

A wrest is a tool you need to tune a piano (or a harp or other stringed musical instruments). It's a small wrench you use for turning the pins to which the strings are fastened, to make them sound higher or lower.

Little Green & Easybella Chapter 18

2011-11-14T13:05:00.000-08:00

(BELLA)

...ok... I think I can breathe again now. Yes, it works. Oxygen... ok, ok... holy shit! Now to remember how to use my limbs. Or not. It's perfect bliss, being held like this. I feel so safe right now; it's ok to be weak for a few minutes, right? Just a few more minutes... just a moment... just...mmh...

…

"I missed you too, Bella."

I come back to my senses with a start. Damn, I think I drifted off to sleep for a second here. Not good! I need to stay awake... prepare for the walk of shame. I'm definitely not looking forward to it.

Did he just say something? Something about missing me - what does he mean? He missed me today? Or is he talking about the last eight years? Did he... fuck! Was he thinking of me all those years? The thought makes my heart clench. He never got my letters; I still can't wrap my head around it.

We need to talk. Come on, Bella, get a grip! Also, I should put my clothes back on. Jesus, I can't believe we just did this, in his parents' house! Oh, little Green...

But before I can think of something to say, or even move my pinkie, he takes my breath away once more. I swear, the man is giving me heart palpitations. His voice is firm and clear, his breath hot in my hair...

"I love you, Bella."

Oh God, I love you too.

I do. There's no denying it, no matter how crazy this is. It's been what... 48 hours since he came back? This is madness, but I love him. I've never felt this way before, but it's true I'm in love! It's like he said: you just knowwhen it happens. And I do.

And it's not because he just worshipped my body, no post-orgasmic delusion. I just know I love him. This cannot be explained, nor does it need explanation. It's just the fucking truth - the wonderful, scary, crazy, mind-blowing fucking truth.

"Bella?"

I love you, little Green.

Maybe the letters did it for me, I don't know. He never got them. And he missed me. There's a box full of love and truth which Esme, damn her, denied us. Why? And why didn't she just destroy them? Why keep them all those years?

"Are you ok, Bella?"

Why yes, I am. More than ok. I love you!

He shifts a little, and I notice I am clinging to him like a drowning woman. My fingers dig into his upper arms so hard that my fingertips are getting numb. I'm probably hurting him. I need to fucking relax and say something. I need to say... it! Out loud.

I loosen my death-grip and open my eyes for the first time since he, well... tongue-fucked me senseless.

In his parents' house!

I'm still cradled in his arms with my face against his chest. I won't feel comfortable looking him the eye when I say the words, I think. Maybe it is because I'm completely naked while he's still wearing his jeans. Or maybe I just need to be held. Or maybe it just doesn't matter. Whatever... this is it; I will tell him.

"Edward, I... I..."

God, why is it so hard? He already said it twice, and I royally messed it up the first time. Is he ready to hear it?

"You're ok, right? I didn't hurt you or anything?" he asks again. Jesus Christ...

"God yes, I am... I feel amazing... what you just did was... I have no words, Edward."

He nuzzles my hair, and I feel him smile against my scalp. He is ready. And I'm ready to say it. It's now or never!

I open my mouth to speak, but again he cuts in, "You know, I think we need more condoms."

"Ah, yes?" What the fuck?

"Yes. It was very unfortunate that I couldn't be inside you," he elaborates. "I wanted it so badly."

I wiggle myself free and finally straighten up to look at him. "Unfortunate?"

He smiles at me sweetly. "Yes. You wanted it too; it was such a pity. I'm still hard for you. If we had a condom now, we could make love like we did at your place. Be really close, right?"

"Uhm..." I stare at him incredulously, while he starts stroking wayward strands of my hair out of my face with his index finger. He doesn't tuck them behind my ear though; they fall back immediately. He seems to enjoy repeating the gentle gesture over and over.

After a few seconds I have enough. Eventually snapping out of my momentary stupor, I reach up to secure those obstinate locks behind my ears myself. His smile doesn't falter for one second. God, he is so beautiful! Of course, he steals my line before I can say anything.

"You're so, so beautiful, Bella. I can't stop looking at you. Well, I guess I could, but I don't want to. I want to look at you all day. Look at you, feel you, smell you, be close to you. I don't mean to sound... I don't know, weird? Scary? Hells, no! I do not scare you, right?"

I slowly shake my head no. Jesus, did he swallow some prattle pills or something? By Little Green standards, this is a severe episode of word vomit. Amazing!

"Ok, good," he chuckles. "I know about those creepy... persons who... you know, those sneakers. No, that's not the right..."

He closes his eyes in concentration. I know that look; he is word-fishing. I wait a few moments before I offer, "Stalkers?"

He eyes fly open. "Yes, that's it!" And again with the smile. I'm melting a little inside.

"Because I really don't want to be stalker-ish or something. I don't want to scare you. But I want to be with you as much as possible, now that I have you back. I want to learn everything about you, Bella. I feel like I missed so much. You were married and he wasn't treating you right. It kind of makes me angry. I don't even want to think about it, but I think about it quite a lot."

His hands come to rest on either side of my neck as he is talking. Still somewhat electrified from the sex, as well as from my epiphany moment, I am hyper-aware of his touch. The heels of his hands on my collarbones, his fingertips on my neck and his thumbs caressing the sensitive dents right under my ears... light as feathers, but the feeling is so intense I want to purr.

"Edward..."

"Also, I didn't know you wanted to be a teacher. There's so much I don't know. And I'm sorry that I panicked today. But I'm glad Carlisle brought you here. I'm really, really glad. Glad is such a... it's an inappropriate word, but you know what I mean, right? Yes, you know."

He is unstoppable! I wonder if he still has his Chatterbox shirt. He seems to not hear me at all. He doesn't even look me in the eye but watches his thumbs on my jaw instead... which is kind of hot, to be perfectly honest. I feel my love for him increase tenfold, if that's even possible.

"Esme thinks that I'm much too... with you, you know, like I'm suffocating you. But she's wrong, isn't she? Or am I? Suffocating, I mean? Bella, I can step back a little, if you want me to. But... I don't care what Esme is thinking, I only care about what you are thinking. Esme? She doesn't know anything."

"Edward, I..."

"I mean, if she thinks it was for my own good to keep you away from me? How could she even... she doesn't know anything. It all came back to me when we arrived on Saturday and I saw you again and you called me Little Green. Bella, I missed you so much it made me sick. They had to feed me medicine because of that. You didn't get my letters either, so you didn't know. How could missing you that much be for my own good?"

"God, Edward..." He had been sick? And he had written letters, too?

"I know, right? And one day I thought I saw you when I went to my music class. But it wasn't you and I couldn't deal with it any more. I somehow... snapped. And after that it was as if you'd never existed. I remember it all now; it was a trick my mind played on me, a protective... thing. I didn't want to forget you, I swear. I didn't want to forget who I was... and my secret name. But it just happened."

"I love you, Edward." There you go.

"I know, right? It was like a fire-wall, and I didn't even remember what was behind it. All my Easybella data was gone. But now we have our letters back. I do want to read them, but I want to read them together with you. I want to know everything, and I want you to know everything, too. I learned a lot at Glenholme, even though I was sick. In the beginning I was learning for you, did you know that? Probably not. But I did. And even after..."

"Edward!" Listen to me, little Green.

"...I lost you to the dark at the bottom of my mind, the reason why I kept on learning was still you, I think, even though I didn't know it any more then. The girl's name was Jessica. I remember everything now. I touched her because I thought it was you; she was..."

Jesus Motherfucking Christ! Who are you, and what have you done to Edward?

"...freaking out. I never..."

I grab his shoulders. "Edward... little Green - I love you!"

His eyes snap to mine. "... got to... I never... ah..."

He gives a loud gasp, almost like a cry of pain, and his tirade comes to an abrupt halt. Actually, all of Edward comes to a halt. His body goes completely rigid. He even has stopped breathing. I'm getting a little worried here. Maybe I shouldn't have...? But there's no going back now.

"Edward," I say softly, "I am your person, and I love you."

His gaze becomes unfocused - fuck, he is looking right through me. What have I done? This is bad! His lips are moving as if he's saying something, but no sound emerges from them. He blinks a few times and finally, thank God, he resumes breathing. Or rather panting.

I'm not taking chances! "You said I would just know if I loved you, remember? You were right, Edward. I guess I never loved before, not like this. But I know now that I do love you." I guess it's my turn to word-vomit now.

But whatever... it seems to work. His green eyes are focusing again, and my heart beats so loudly, it might burst through my chest any second. Fortunately, it doesn't. Because in a blink, I'm suddenly enveloped in Edward's arms. He's holding me so tightly, he's almost crushing me, moaning and panting against my neck.

I can hardly breathe, not only with the force of his embrace, but also with the onslaught of emotions. I can't even tell happy from sad; it's so overwhelming that I don't know whether to laugh or cry or scream. I just hug him back with all I have.

After a while, his breathing becomes a little less labored. His lips are moving against my skin, alternately kissing my neck and whispering something I don't understand. And at last, when I manage to make out what he's saying, my thoroughly spent body and my almost-bursting heart make a decision for me and settle on option number two. I cry.

It feels good. I just let the tears fall. They run down my face and into Little Green's hair, while I'm sniffling and smiling and listening to the muffled words he's repeating over and over again.

"... yes... yes... a thousand times yes..."

(BELLA, a little later...)

I don't know how much time has passed. It could be minutes. Or an hour. He has stopped chanting those words but hasn't let go of me for one second. I might or might not have fallen in and out of slumber in his arms a few times; I don't know. We are still on the carpet, lying on our sides now... intertwined like a human pretzel.

No words have been spoken yet. We're both fine with that. Right now, words don't matter. There are occasional sighs to ease the tension when the chest threatens to become too tight with emotion. And soft moans too, at fingers grazing skin or raking through hair. There are even quiet chuckles we just cannot keep in when the feeling of joy is coming in waves, rising inside of our bodies like bubbles in a glass of champagne, and just as much intoxicating.

I hear footsteps outside, ascending the stairs. That is Esme - I can tell by the sound of what must be expensive designer shoes on the wooden steps. Is she coming to check on us? We've been inside this room for quite a while. Well, this is going to be interesting, should she decide to come in. I'm still naked.

Edward has noticed her, too. He props himself on one elbow and throws a quick glance over his shoulder. Apparently satisfied to see that the door is still locked and additionally somewhat blocked by the fallen chair, he turns his head back to me and smiles.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, just as there's a gentle knocking at the door.

"You too," I whisper back.

He lays his palm on my cheek, but I take his hand and bring it to my mouth to kiss his knuckles. His smile widens to its full, dazzling glory. He is breathtaking.

Another knock on the door. And then Esme's voice, shyly, "Eward? Is everything alright?"

His smile disappears. But he doesn't take his eyes off of mine as he answers, his voice loud enough for his mother to hear.

"Go. Away."

I hold my breath. After a few moments of silence, Esme leaves without saying another word, the clacking of her heels fading as she slowly descends the stairs. I exhale in relief.

Edward still looks at me, unmoving. I think it's time for me to leave this place. Maybe I can get out of here without running into Esme or Carlisle. Since they probably know all too well what has happened in this room, I have no wish whatsoever to face either of them. But if I have to, I will stand my ground. Little Green just sent his mother away without even blinking, for crying out loud! I will not allow myself to be ashamed of what we did.

"I love you, Bella."

"I love you, Edward."

No, I will not be ashamed.

"You want to go home?" he asks. Maybe he can read my mind.

"Yes, I'd like that. Are you coming with me? Please?"

He nods his head yes and gives my hand a little squeeze before he lets go of me and gets on his knees. He turns around and silently starts picking my clothes off of the floor. When he gets to Esme's blouse, he stills for a moment, rubbing the blue silk between his thumb and index finger.

"You... you won't take it back, or will you?" he suddenly asks, staring down at the fabric in his hand.

"What?" Alarmed, I get up and sit back on my heels.

Take back what? That I want him to come home with me? Or...? Oh my God! "What do you mean?"

I can't really see his face; he sitting halfway with his back to me. But I can see his jaw grinding.

"That you love me... you won't take it back, right?"

"Never!" I gasp out.

With his eyes still glued to where his fingers fiddle with the silk, he nods his head. "Good," is all he says. "Good."

Be still, my heart!

I scoot over to him as quickly as I can and wrap my arms around him from behind. He tosses the blouse aside and reaches back around himself, grabbing my hips and pulling me even closer. With a sigh, he closes his eyes and lets his head fall back.

"I'll find you a shirt to wear," he says.

(BELLA, still later)

Just a few more steps, past the door to the dining room and around the corner. My tee shirt and apron are tucked under my arm, along with my purse. Edward is carrying the card-box with our letters. Our free hands are joined between us, as he leads me along the hallway.

No Esme or Carlisle to be seen; we almost made it. I will use my cell to call a taxi when we're outside. Edward said his phone is broken. Just a few more steps...

"Edward? Isabella?"

Fuck!

We both flinch and stop walking at the sound of Carlisle's voice. I squeeze Edward's hand and step closer to him to let him know that I won't leave his side, no matter what. I straighten my shoulders as Carlisle emerges from out of the dining room. Let's get this over with.

"Son," he says softly. "How are you feeling? Are you ok?"

I can feel Edward tensing up next to me. He doesn't look at his father as he answers, "Yes."

"I'm glad to hear that. I take it you two want to leave?"

"Yes."

Edward starts shaking a little. I don't think Carlisle can see it, but for me it's palpable.

"We're going to call a cab," I explain, foreseeing the next question.

"That won't be necessary," Carlisle replies and turns to Edward again. "If you're feeling well enough to drive, I have your car ready. You were supposed to get it today anyway, so..."

A car? Edward owns a car?

Carlisle reaches into his back pocket and gets out keys and something that looks like a business card of sorts. "Can I come a little closer, Edward?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. Or maybe Edward has just nodded or something; I don't know. Carlisle approaches him slowly and holds out the items. Edward's hand in mine twitches, reluctant to let go of it. After a few moments of pondering, he bends his knees and carefully drops the card-box instead. Then he picks the keys and the card off of his father's palm.

Carlisle takes a step back immediately and shoves his hands into his pockets. "You'll want to deposit the spare key somewhere, in case you lose one. I could take it, if you'd like. Or you can give it to Isabella. And I got you this autism ID card, just in case. You won't likely need it, but if you get pulled over it will spare you a lot of trouble. Just put it in the glove compartment, ok?"

Edward turns the card around a few times and says, "Ok."

When I crane my neck to see what it looks like, he wordlessly hands it to me. With my stuff still safely tucked under my arms, I take the bright yellow plastic card and skim through the short text.

There's a title in red lettering, saying 'I Have Autism', followed by an explanation in smaller print: 'My medical condition impairs my ability to communicate with others. As a result I may have difficulty understanding your directions, and I may not be able to respond to your questions. I may also become physically agitated if you touch me or move too close to me. Please do not interprete this behavior as a refusal to cooperate. I am not intentionally defying your instructions.'

I am a bit taken aback by how clinical this sounds. Also, I don't really think this is how the Edward I have gotten to know in the last two days really is. But I figure, this little card could come in handy, if he got pulled over by one of those cops who think behaving like a cave man is part of their job description.

The back of the card offers some blank lines for one's personal data. The usual 'My name is...', with the phrase 'and I have autism' added to it, plus enough space to insert the names and phone numbers of people that should be contacted in case of an emergency.

I want my name and number to be put there. If anything should happen to Edward, I want to be there to help. I want to be there for him.

I raise my head to find Carlisle watching me intensely. "I remember that shirt," he says and smiles. "I remember the reason why you made it. It was a great day."

"I remember, too. I remember when you drove me home that day," I say, feeling proud. I straighten my shoulders a little more, glad that I decided on wearing a padded bra today. Even though I'm pretty small, Edward's tee shirt is a very tight fit. We don't want our nipples to poke through the 'a' and the 'b' in the word 'Chatterbox', now do we.

"Looks good on you, Isabella."

"Thanks." I can't help but smile back at Carlisle. He's such a kind man. And still very handsome, just saying. It's hard to believe that he could have had any part in Esme's betrayal.

"Ok, drive carefully, son. Give yourself some time to get used to the Volvo. I know it's not quite the fanciest ride in the world, but it's a good vehicle. And it's silver, just like you wanted."

Edward mutters a quiet 'thank you' and bends down to pick up the card-box.

"I hope to see you soon, so we can talk about... this," Carlisle says softly, nodding his chin towards the box. "I'm really sorry about what happened, for the both of you. And your mother is inconsolable, Edward; she's completely taking the blame. I really hope you can forgive her one day."

Edward starts shaking visibly now; the keys in his hand jingle. For a moment, I'm afraid that he's freaking out, maybe getting angry again. But when I see him raise his head, I know it's just the effort to look Carlisle in the eye.

He does it, even though it almost seems to kill him. I'm sure he isn't even aware of how hard he is clutching at my hand right now. It actually hurts, but I bite my tongue. This is important for him.

"Did you know?" he asks, holding his father's gaze like a champ.

"No. Not until just recently. She never meant to hurt you, Edward. I hope you know that."

The silence that followes seems to last ages. His grip is fucking painful, and whatever it is that he is doing in his mind right now, I really wish he'd do it faster! I breathe a sigh of relief when he finally relaxes.

"Good night, Carlisle," he says and turns to leave, dragging me along behind.

"Good night, son. Isabella? Good night. Get home safe."

"Good night, Carlisle," I manage to say over my shoulder, and then we're outside.

As soon as the door closes behind us, Edward lets go of my tortured hand and pulls me close with one arm around my waiste. He rests his forehead on the top of my head and takes a few deep breaths.

"We're going home, right?" he asks, and his voice breaks a little.

I sling my arm around him, too. Still holding the yellow emergency card, I rub his back with the heel of my hand. "Yes," I confirm.

"I'm hungry. I didn't eat much."

"Me either. I still have the remainders of Esme's breakfast in the freezer. Sounds good?"

He sighs into my hair. "Yes."

His arm around me tightens until our hips come flush to each other. And what I'm feeling there makes me wonder if I should mention that I have a few condoms left in the drawer, too. I'm already tingling all over again. Is this normal?

"I'm hard for you."

I know!

I lean back in his arm to look at him. In the dim light of the street lamp, his eyes are almost black.

"Come on, little Green, let's go home."

-------

Little Green & Easybella Chapter 17

2011-11-14T13:00:00.000-08:00

(NEW ENGLAND, Dec 2005)

The dining hall was dangerous ground for Edward. It was huge, loud and confusing. No order. And it was crowded, a vast area filled with Others. They had told him that he would be among peers at Glenholme Boarding School, 'among his equals'. But they had been wrong. He was nothing like those kids around him; they were just Others.

They were noisy and cheerful. It was nauseating. The laughing, the squealing, dishes clanking on trays, rubber soles squeaking on the wooden floor, and the non-stop talking... it all fused into the same meaningless mash of noise he remembered from those times in other institutions and foster homes.

Once more, he was among Others, just like the times before Esme had come to take him home and told him that this time, it was for good. Just like the times before Esme had given him Easybella and he had learned the real meaning of the word 'home'; he was feeling homeless now. It was a broken promise all over again.

Edward knew it was his own fault. He knew that he was here to learn how to be like Them. And he tried really hard, thinking that if he'd be good maybe they would allow him to leave.

Maybe if he smiled enough, or joined more of their silly games, then the teachers would certify him trained and ready to go home.

Maybe if he spoke in complete sentences all day, Easybella would talk to him again.

So he kept trying. The teachers were nice and patient; they didn't force him. He was even allowed to keep his communication cards, although they assured him that he didn't need them. Which was true, in a way. He barely ever used them any more. He just had nothing to say.

Yet everyone at Glenholme seemed convinced he would get there. They never got tired of telling him that he was doing great, cheering upon every single word he uttered and every facial expression he mimicked. But deep inside, Edward knew he was just pretending, and a niggling feeling of failure had grown to be his constant companion.

He was nothing like those kids and would never be - a fact that was never more evident than during those noisy lunch times. But every single day, he still kept on trying to learn how to be better... at pretending.

Right now though, he needed a break. Next to his untouched meal, Edward let his head sink onto his folded arms on the table and closed his eyes. Deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of his mind he descended, until nothing was left but a soothing grey mist and silence.

There he waited.

(EDWARD)

We need more condoms. I hate not being able to be with her the way I want to be, the way I need to be. But I love that I can give her pleasure. I love tasting her pleasure. It's on my tongue, it's all over my face... sweet, sticky pleasure... sweet Bella making sweet noises, each of her moans and groans coursing through my body like shock waves.

I love the way her pleasure tastes and sounds and feels. I love the pain on my scalp where she is clutching at a fistful of my hair, like she's afraid I would stop before she's got there. As if I could...

I won't stop until she tells me to. I won't stop as long as her body says yes, a thousand times yes!

And she is all Yes, my Bella. She's all Yes and More in my mouth, all Pleaseand Harder in my hands. It's impossible to determine which one of us is in control; I feel weak and powerful, and I'm loving it... so, so much! I feel like I'm giving and giving, yet I'm receiving more than I give. I feel like I'm coming, but I'm not. I feel like I could go on and on like this.

But she starts to fall.

Her legs quiver and she takes in big, loud gulps of air, almost like sobs. She inhales and inhales... three, four, five times... and I don't stop, I don't stop. I lick and taste and drink my Easybella. And then her knees give way and she falls.

My mouth is empty all of a sudden, and there's the loud clatter of the chair knocked over. Her body all but melts and flows down on me like a warm, silky fluid. Her fingers slip out of my hair and her hands limply fall onto my shoulders. She glides down between my arms and sinks onto her knees and slumps against me, with her face nestled in the crook of my neck. And when she finally exhales, it is a long, muffled cry against my skin.

I hold her shaking form, with my face buried in her hair, and I want to cry because the beauty of this moment is almost too much to bear. There's one single thought inside my head, repeating itself over and over... one elating, hurting, happy-sad thought that rips me open and leaves me bleeding here on the floor, while I'm holding my Easybella - my life - in my arms...

She missed me while I was gone.

It's true. I know, it is.

"I missed you too, Bella," I whisper against her temple.

And then I cry.

(NEW ENGLAND, Dec 2005)

It was the color of her hair that caught Edward's eye first, those dark brown locks with a few mahogany lights where the sunbeams coming through the roof windows impinged on them.

He had just entered the main building of the Center of Arts, when he saw the girl and froze. He momentarily forgot to breathe. Also, he immediately forgot why he had come here, even though his piano classes were the one thing here at Glenholme School he was usually looking forward to. Edward outright forgot about everything.

The brown-haired girl slowly walked down the hallway, with her back to him. Her head was turning to and fro as she passed along and read the signs on the doors on either side of the corridor, searching for something... or someone.

'Here', Edward thought, 'I'm here!' Then he remembered that he needed to breathe in order to speak. So he sucked in some air and...

"Easybella!"

It was merely a whisper.

Unsurprisingly, she couldn't hear him. Edward could hardly hear himself over the thundering of his heart. He had practiced so hard, and now that she was finally here, his voice simply refused to be obedient to him.

"Over here," he breathed desperately, while she kept on walking into the wrong direction. 'Sentences', he reminded himself, getting annoyed with his own lack of concentration, 'complete sentences!'

"I am here, Easybella. Please turn around," he tried again, but only managed a feeble whimpering. So he did the only thing he could think of. He dropped his bag and, pulling all his strength together, he ordered his shaking legs to move.

When he crashed into the girl's back and threw his arms around her skinny waist from behind, he knew right away that something was wrong. He knew it before she gave that piercing scream and lashed out blindly. He knew it before she turned around and stared in shock at him with those watery, blue eyes. He knew it even before he heard one of the Others yell, "Miss Meyer, Edward just touched Jessica without asking permission!"

Right before he passed out on the floor of the Center of the Arts' hallway, he knew that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

But when he woke up to the hushed voice of the school nurse talking to his mom on the phone, he couldn't remember what it was, or why he was lying there on the cot in the first place. The only thing bothering him was that he apparently had missed his piano lesson. Other than that, he was just fine. Actually, he felt better than he had in a while. He couldn't understand why everyone was in such a flurry.

He behaved himself perfectly during the following examination, and when they asked him whether he was feeling better, he nodded his head yes and forced a timid smile onto his face like a good boy.

Everyone was relieved.

In the weeks and months to come, Edward surprised his teachers by making great progress learning and adjusting. He was coming on in leaps and bounds. He still had trouble bonding with other kids, but he adapted some valuable social skills. And though he only spoke if absolutely necessary or when he was told to, his use of the spoken word improved remarkably.

Everyone was pleased.

He was coming along so well that no one even tried to get to the bottom of the so-called 'Jessica Incident'. Everyone forgot about it, even Edward himself. He kept on trying really hard to get better and better at... pretending. Because deep down in his heart, he knew it was very important.

He just couldn't remember the reason why any more.

(EDWARD)

Truth is easy; pretending is so much harder, isn't it?

We both know the truth now. That's a good thing. No matter how hard one pretends, it doesn't change the truth. Even if someone steals the truth from us and we can't see it and believe otherwise - what's true, remains true. That's a good thing. But the fact that truth can be taken away in the first place... that's pretty scary.

I wish, Bella would say something. She's so quiet all of a sudden. I've only cried a little; she didn't even notice. Just a few salty drops into her hair...

Maybe I should say something? She likes it when I talk. It's important to her. Complete sentences! But where to start? Truth is easy... easy, easy, Easybella. We both know the truth now; we won't lose it again. Complete sentences!

One... two... three...

"I love you, Bella."

Truth is easy.

Little Green & Easybella Chapter 16

2011-11-14T12:57:00.000-08:00

(INSIDE THE CARD BOX)

Easybella did you not read my letters why are you too busy? Esme said you are very busy. I asked her and she said you are ok, just busy I was very happy to hear that. I had a nightmare the other night you fell down a cliff and into the water and I called and called and begged and cried really a lot of words. I used a lot of words in that dream but you never came up again. And I know you fall a lot so I was afraid you didn't answer my letters yet, you could have been dead! I'm happy you are ok. I wish you were here, so bad. I know you said I would make friends but don't be mad, I don't want friends I want you. I miss you don't you miss me too. Please don't be mad please write me back. Please, friends forever, E (your little green)

Bella Swan
775 K St.
Forks, WA 98331

October 5th, 2005

My dear little Green,

Like every first Monday of the month, I called your mom first thing after school. And like every time before, she had nothing for me – no letter, no note, no word from you, nothing. I don't get it; what have I done to you? Are you mad at me? Is it because I wasn't there to say good-bye to you? You know I wanted to come, right?

I can only say it again: It was a misunderstanding. I was so damn sure that Esme had said Tuesday, and I had it all planned out, asked my dad to drive me over and everything. But when I arrived at your family's house Monday afternoon, there was only Carlisle who told me you and your mom had left in the morning. I still don't know how and why I messed up with the date; I will be forever sorry about that.

But I really hope it's not the reason you don't write me back.

Esme keeps telling me the same things, like that you're just having a hard time adjusting at school and learning, that your mind is occupied with other things. She keeps telling me that you need time, that you haven't forgotten me and that I shouldn't be too disappointed and such. So I try to be patient.

I know, I really know, it must be difficult for you there, and I don't want to push you. I understand that. I'm just thinking of you a lot and I'm a bit worried about you. I have tons of questions, and Esme answers them the best she can, I guess. But I'd really like to hear from you some time. How are you doing? Do you like the place? And Esme told me about your special music classes; are you enjoying yourself? I'm so proud of you! Always told you you're a musical genius, remember? Oh, how I'd love to hear you play the piano...

Also, how are the other kids? Do they speak? Any little chatterboxes like you around? Did you make friends yet? I really hope so, because you deserve a million friends! No wait, I'm just kidding! Too many friends can be pretty scary, right? But one or two, maybe? Remember when I told you to pay attention to the other kids' faces, especially the silent kids? Watch out for smiles or brief glances in your direction. And don't be afraid; you don't need to talk to them, just smile back for starters. You can do it!

And maybe you find someone to play music with you, wouldn't that be great? I miss our singing together, and reading, and oh well, I just miss you. Will you be home for Thanksgiving? I am supposed to visit my mom in Phoenix, but maybe I'll just stay in Forks so I can come over and we can spend some time together. I will ask Esme about it.

I wanted to email you via the school's email address, hoping they would pass it on to you. But then I thought it's not such a good idea. It sucks that you don't have a private addy there.

Anyway, don't worry about me, I'm fine. Nothing really new or exciting at my end. Two days ago, I had another 'date' with your dad in the ER. I fell and sprained my ankle, but it isn't very bad. You know me.

Oh, wait – I didn't tell you, I HAVE A CAR NOW! How cool is that? It's old, VERY old, but it's so awesome being able to drive myself. My dad bought it from my friend Jacob's dad. If you come home on Thanksgiving, and if your parents allow me, I'll give you a ride.

Ok, I'll stop for now. I don't know if there'll be more letters before Esme's next visit this time. Maybe I should leave it at one? Give you a little space, as they say? Just take your time; I still hope to hear from you whenever you're ready. Just know I'm here for you if you need me. Whatever it is, share a laugh, ease any trouble, advice, questions, anything. Ok?

Friends forever!
Holding you tight, in my heart and mind,
your Easybella

Easybella when you get this can you please write me back? I'm sorry if I hurt you I don't know what to do. Please please talk to me! I asked Esme to bring you next time she comes. Please say yes! I also asked her to talk to your dad just in case he won't let you. I know he doesn't like me because I'm weird, and he has a gun and tries to be scary. But Esme is not afraid of him so don't worry about that just please say yes say yes. Having nightmares again, many. Please Easybella friends forever! E (your little green)

October 12th, 2005

P.S.
I asked your mom about Thanksgiving today, and she said that you and your parents will be at your grandparent's in Chicago. I'm very sad that we won't see each other, but you'll have a good time with your family and your grans will spoil you rotten, turkey and cake and cookies!

Speaking of, I thought I'd bake some cookies for you and give them to Esme with this letter. Maybe our special 'Knights with Spades', you know, the ones with the peanut butter chips inside. What do you think, would you like that?

Oh boy, I wish I could talk to you. I wish I could touch you. How is the sleeping going? Nightmares still in check? Sure there is someone you can call at night, just in case? If you were here right now, I would hug the shit out of you! Write me if you feel like it, spider monkey, ok?

Easybella when you read this I think you've heard it from Esme already. She was very upset, everyone was very upset with me. But please not you ok? I promise I won't run away again! I will be good and stay here even if I don't know how. I didn't really plan on going to Forks, I wouldn't know how to do it. I made it to a bus stop but it was so dark and when a bus came I hid behind the shelter and stayed there all night. I just wanted everyone to see that I can't do this any longer and to see I'm serious so maybe they would finally send me home you know? But don't tell Esme! She was so upset, the nurse who talked to her on the phone said so. And the policemen who found me also said I had caused her big concern one looked very much like your dad. I don't want to upset anyone please can you not write me back Easybella? I cry a lot at night all the crying makes me sick. I don't understand how can you be too busy to write me. Are you really ok? I'm not. Please write. E (little green)

October 30th, 2005

P.P.S.
Sorry, I didn't make the cookies. Next time, maybe. Why don't you make a list of your favorite cookies for me, and I'll bake them? Do you think you could do that? Just the list, and maybe say hi to me and tell me how you're doing; that would make me so happy. Please? I'm thinking of you, little Green, always. I will get this letter to your mom now. Have a nice weekend.

Friends forever!
Your Easybella

Easybella are you mad at me? Esme is here and you are not and I'm not stupid something is wrong. Please why don't you talk to me any more, I'm so sick they say I'm homesick, like many kids who come here. But I'm not homesick at all, I'm Easybellasick it hurts so bad. Have you forgotten me? I tried to call you but I'm still scared on the phone couldn't get a word out when your dad picked it up, I just couldn't so sorry Easybella. I'm not good enough I know I'm weird and don't speak enough and don't understand enough, maybe you are happy I'm gone. But I learn a lot, I can be better! I'm getting new medicines to make the sadness and the nightmares go away but they don't work just make me tired. I'll stop writing you if you want me to, I'm so tired I need to sleep now. Miss you so much my head hurts all the time. I'm sorry if I did anything wrong what did I do? E

Chapter Notes:

A word about the way Little Green writes.

We all know he is extremely intelligent, and he's always been a smart kid, even at the age of eleven. I'm not implying here that people with autism or Asperger's aren't capable of writing correctly!
I get reviews and mails from quite a few adults with Asperger's; some of them write absolutely perfect grammar and punctuation, some of them write like Little Green did here, or similar.

I decided to make his writing a little messy, given that he's only eleven, very sad and desperate and not used to express his inner turmoil with words yet, so...
to all my precious readers who are personally concerned with any form of autism: You humble me all the time with your words, and I hope you know I didn't mean to disrespect or offend anyone.
Also, you know present time Little Green; he's come a long way since then...

Little Green & Easybella Chapter 15

2011-11-14T12:54:00.000-08:00

(EDWARD)

She's here. Opposite side of the table, out of my reach. But I don't mind. I'm just so glad that she's here. And this way, I can watch her better. Her hair, her skin, the blush… she's here.

"Edward, darling, eat something." Esme says.

I grab my fork and start coiling up some noodles, but I can't take my eyes off of Bella. It is like she's becoming more beautiful, the longer I look at her. I'm afraid to miss something if I avert my gaze. She's like a blossom unfolding, and I don't want to miss a single second of this mysterious transformation, even though it's probably just something going on in my head. If you love someone they become prettier and prettier in your eyes, I guess. Or is it the other way round?

Luckily, no-one seems to expect me to participate in the conversation. They're not talking about anything important anyway… I think? I tune myself in and there's Bella, answering a question about her job.

"…just temporarily. I needed to do something now that I'm alone, and Mr. Denali mentioned one day that he was looking for someone to help his daughter Tanya at the store, so I asked him and…"

Yes, about her job at the drugstore. I remember Denali's Drugstore from my childhood. There was a girl, too. Tanya Denali. I didn't like her. She once made fun of Bella when we were there. She made fun of her because Bella was with me. That Tanya Denali was a mean person. I need to ask.

"Is she mean to you?"

All heads turn to me, but I only see Bella. I only see Bella's eyes that dart to mine.

"What? Who?"

"Tanya Denali."

"Why… no! She's really nice."

"Good."

Esme gives a nervous laugh. "Edward, why would you think that Tanya is mean to anyone? Do you know her?"

Yes, I do. And I don't like her. But I don't want to ignite any further discussions. "No."

I lower my head and pick at my pasta again, making it quite obvious I'm not going to elaborate on my answer, and after a brief moment of silence, they resume their talk. I tune myself out again. I'm watching Bella. I'm watching her eat and speak and blush and... transform. Can she be any more beautiful? I don't care if this is just a trick my mind is playing on my love-drenched self. I don't want to analyze this; I just want to savour the moment.

From time to time, she looks at me and smiles. Do I smile back at her? I should! But I don't think I manage to answer her smiles with one of my own in time before she looks away again… not even once. I feel the smile, feel it rise inside of me like the brightness and warmth that washes over you when, on a cloudy day, there's suddenly a breach in the overcast sky. This moment when you feel the sun warming every single cell of your body, and the dull screen of your closed eyelids is suddenly flooded with a soothing, red glow. That sort of smile. I feel it, but I'm afraid it doesn't show on the outside. Or does it? I can't watch myself right now. I'm too stunned, watching her.

She's looking uncomfortable all of a sudden. Is it because I don't smile? Is it because I am staring? Is it me at all? Tuning in…

"…not it! I really do want to go back to school; I always wanted to work with children."

Bella wants to go to school. She loves children. What school?

"Yes, I remember," Esme says. "You always said you wanted to be a teacher. That's why I was wondering -"

"I can still be a teacher. And I will. I just need to save up some money first."

Why is she so… scared? Defensive? There's something wrong… And money. Is she short of money? Did that Jacob not even take care of that?

"I'm not saying you can't, Bella. I was just wondering how -"

"Esme." It's Carlisle, gently cutting in. "Last time I checked, the Spanish inquisition was already over. Give the girl a break." He takes Esme's hand. "It's a good thing for someone to resume education and follow their dreams, don't you think?"

"Evening classes!" Bella almost shouts. She's angry. And scared. I can't stand it. Esme is pressing her too much. I need to make her stop!

"Esme!" I'm not speaking as softly as Carlisle just did. I'm angry, too. I'm scared, too. I can't help it… "Stop. Now!"

Esme's eyes grow impossibly wide. Bella reaches her hand across the table and whispers, "Edward, it's ok."

But it's not. Not okay. "No! I'm not going to sit here and…"

What is the word? I can't find the word. I can't make it around all the questions that have piled up in my head during the last few minutes to fish the right one out of this pool of words.

"… and… and nourish this!"

Wrong word. Doesn't matter. I can see I made my point anyway. Esme casts her eyes down and takes a deep breath. Carlisle clears his throat. Bella swallows hard and stares at me. Nobody speaks.

I remember days from my childhood when we all sat at this table, Bella and my parents talking while I kept on word-fishing in my mind. I never really contributed to the conversations because I didn't want to say a wrong word. Those days when Bella had dinner with us were the days when Bella stayed with me until I fell asleep. She was part of the family back then, and I thought it would always be that way.

When did that change? What happened?

Esme looks up at me. She seems hurt, although she's the one hurting Bella. I don't understand her at all. She should feel guilty instead. She should love Bella. She should apologize to Bella.

"I want you to apologize."

Bella gasps. "Edward, really... I don't think..."

"No," Esme cuts in. "Edward is right. That was rude of me. I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to be so pushy, Bella."

"It's fine, Esme, really."

But I can tell it's not. Bella is still looking uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. As if she didn't belong here. She once did belong here. She used to sit at my bedside and read to me until my eyelids became to heavy to keep them open. Sometimes she just held my hand and didn't talk at all. Sometimes she promised me I'd never lose her, that she'd always be my friend.

But I did. I lost her.

What happened?

Why did she never call or write or answer any of my messages, so I had to erase her from my memory in order to not lose my sanity? In order to survive?

What happened?

Bella leans over the table and takes my hand. "And Edward... "

What...

"...you don't need to defend me, ok?"

...the fuck...

"Edward?"

...happened?

(BELLA)

O my God, awkward!

I can't believe Edward just made Esme apologize to me. And holy shit, she's really looking guilty. I mean, she was hostile, sort of. But not thatbad. It's almost like there's more to it than what she said.

Of course she wants to know what I'm going to do with my life, now that Jake is gone and Edward and I are becoming... a thing... or whatever it is she is seeing. That's fine. And I know I'm stalling; the job at Denali's is kind of convenient, and it gives me time to figure things out. It's just a stage of my plan, and I'm not ashamed of what I'm doing. If Esme considers me not good enough for her son, that's fine, too. I will prove her wrong!

But she upset Edward again, and that's not fine at all! One minute he was shaking with anger, and now he kind of zoned out. He's looking right through me, with that Little Green crease between his brows.

"Edward? Are you ok?"

He shakes his head. Then he fixes his gaze back on me, with his pupils dilating and contracting a few times in quick succession, like angry little living beings in ardent pools of green.

"What happened?" he asks.

"Nothing, really - it's fine. We were just talking."

He shakes his head again. "Not that. I mean, what happened? When they sent me to boarding school, why did you never... answer? Didn't you miss me at all? What happened?"

Answer? Answer what? Fuck!

"Of course I missed you," I start, when at the same time Esme speaks up,

"This is quite a topic change, darling, and snows of yesteryear anyway."

Edward doesn't listen to her; his eyes are glued to mine. I don't think he even is aware of his parents' presence anymore. Both his hands are on the table, palms down. His right index finger is grazing the embroidered flower leafs. Other than that, his body is eerily still. "You missed me," he whispers.

"I did," I confirm, "so much. But you never replied to my letters, so I thought..."

"Letters?"

"... you had forgotten me," I finish.

"You wrote me letters!"

What the fuck? "Yes, I did!" Is he telling me he didn't get them? "In the beginning, I wrote you like... once a week? Even though Esme just went to see you monthly. I collected the letters and gave them to her at the end of each month..."

"You gave them to Esme?"

"Yes, of course. She -" Oh my God! I can see the realization of what this means in his face the very moment it dawns on me too. I can see the devastating effect of this... betrayal on his face, and I can see disbelief and anger fighting each other.

From the corner of my eye I see Esme stand. "Bella, Edward... this is not -"

Both Edward's fists slam down on the tabletop, making dishes and cutlery jump and clatter. Esme flinches and her hands fly to her mouth. Carlisle stands, too, but doesn't say anything. For the first time, he seems at a loss about what to do. And so am I.

I guess I should be mad at Esme. I guess I should feel sorry for Edward... for us. Or maybe I should be frightened, what with Edward shaking and huffing? Seeing how his anger has clearly gotten the upper hand? But I feel nothing. I'm in a state of shock. All I can think is why in the world would she withhold my letters from him? But Edward has a different question.

"Where?" he growls.

Esme takes a tentative step closer to her son. "Please, Edward, you need to..."

"I want them. Where are they?"

"...understand; it was for your own good. I was just..."

Oh, that's rich! The all-time parental excuse for anything and everything. But it doesn't get her very far. Edward jumps up so suddenly that his chair is knocked over.

"WHERE?" he roars, towering over his mother with his hands clenched into tight fists on either side of him.

"...trying to protect you!" Esme shouts her last words. There are tears in her eyes as she finishes. And finally Carlisle steps in, instinctively reaching out for his son's shoulder. I'm frozen in my place, watching the scene before me like some stage play; I still feel nothing.

I see Edward turn around and lash out at Carlisle, yelling at him to keep his hands off, and I feel nothing. All I can think is that someone - no, not someone... Esme! She stole a big part of my life, of myself from me. When she took those letters, she took away what could have been... all those years... my promise... and Edward, he must have thought... oh God!

"My letters, I want them," Edward hisses. He is holding his hands up in that universal don't-touch-me gesture. His head tilted to one side, he seems to fixate on an invisible point in the center of the room - like a lone fighter encircled by enemies, waiting for the first one to make the slightest move, and ready to attack.

"Give them to him," Carlisle whispers, and Esme nods her head yes as if in trance. "Your room," she says, turning to Edward. "There's a card-box on top of the closet. They are all there; I've kept them all."

Without another word, Edward storms off. This is so fucked up. Suddenly Esme's expensive satin blouse seems to be made of the itchiest wool ever; I want to rip it off of me. And eventually, I find my voice.

"Why did you do that? You had no right to do that!" I accuse.

"It was for his own benefit. I had to do it; Edward was much too dependent on you. He was obsessed with you, Bella, and he had no chance to adjust to the situation at school like that, or to make new friends. The counselor said, a clean break would be best to make..."

"A clean break?" I yell in utter bewilderment. "You made me look like a liar in his eyes!"

"It wasn't easy for me either, believe me."

I have no response to that. Clearly, she still believes in the rightness and righteousness of what she did. I don't get it. She made Edward believe I had abandoned him; it makes me sick just to think about it.

"Isabella, I think you should follow him. He'll want you by his side now." Once again, it is Carlisle who just always seems to know what's the right thing to do. Esme looks at him, shaking her head no. But really... I don't give a shit whether she approves of it or not. I snatch my purse and stand. The last thing I see before I leave the room is Carlisle taking her in his arms. He mouths 'go!' to me. Esme slumps against him, defeated, and sobs into his chest. I don't give a shit...

The door to his old room is ajar. Edward is sitting on the edge of the bed, with his head hanging. There's a bundle of envelopes in his hands. I can see they're unopened, about twenty-five, maybe thirty letters, held together with a red satin band. The way she kept those letters safe... pretty box, tiny bow and all... it would be endearing if she hadn't done it for all the wrong reasons.

I walk over and stop right in front of him; he doesn't look up. I don't know if he wants me to touch him or not. He seems calm again, but maybe he needs some distance right now. I wait a few moments, but he doesn't move.

"So you found them," I say.

He slowly nods his head. Ok... no words then. I reach out and gently stroke his hair, relieved when he doesn't flinch.

"Don't you want to read them?"

He answers with a shrug. Not indifferent, just undecided. Then his shoulders rise and fall with a long sigh. Yes, he's undecided. And there's more; he is... scared?

"Are you afraid to read them?"

He swallows hard and gives another nod. He lets go of the letters and they land in the open card-box at his feet with a quiet thud. There are three more such bundles in it. I don't remember having written so many letters before I finally gave up hope, convinced that after all, the old saying 'out of sight, out of mind' applied to my Little Green, too.

"You don't want to talk, huh? Do you want me to leave you alone?"

He takes my hands and pulls me closer until I straddle his thighs. He wraps his arms around my waist and buries his face in the crook of my neck. I lay my cheek on top of his head and hug him back. We stay like that for a little while, silently mourning the loss of whatever might have been between us if those letters had reached their destination. We will never know. And somehow I feel like I betrayed him just as much as Esme did. Because I stopped writing him. And worse, because I actually stopped thinking of him after a while. Out of sight, out of mind... that was me, not him. He was a kid, for crying out loud. I shouldn't have stopped trying.

Edward inhales deeply, then he suddenly pulls back, scrunching up his nose.

"What?" I say, startled at the sudden movement and the disgusted expression on his face.

With a growl, he starts tugging angrily at the hem of Esme's blouse, pulling it out of the waistband of my jeans and further up. Ok, I get it. Apparently it doesn't smell right on me... apparently he doesn't want to smell Esme right now... or maybe ever again. I lift my arms and he tears the thing off of me so impatiently that one or two buttons bite the dust.

Once the offending piece of clothing is gone and I am left in my simple white cotton bra, Edward enfolds me in his arms again and nuzzles my cleavage with a contented sigh. My hands are back in his hair before I know it. "Better?" I ask him quietly. And this time, I get a spoken answer... kind of.

He whispers my name, my special name. "Easy," he says. "Easy-Easy-Easybella..." My breath hitches as he starts peppering kisses on my boobs where they aren't covered by the bra. With one hand on my behind, he pulls me closer on his lap. "Easybella... Bella... need you, my Bella..."

"Edward, what -"

He grabs my right wrist and pulls my hand down between us until my palm lies on the considerable bulge in his jeans. "Need you," he repeats.

I whimper quietly; this is so... oh, fuck! Encouraged by my reaction, he starts to fumble with the clasp of my bra. Without thinking, I reach behind me to help him. It's only when the bra joins Esme's blouse on the carpet that I remember where we are, and that the door to his room is still ajar and... oh, fuck!

"Edward, we can't! Not here... your parents!"

He looks at me, confused for just a moment. Then he takes my arms and puts them around his neck. I hold on to him as he gets up, lifting me as if I weighed nothing, and walks to the door. I wrap my legs around his waist; he supports me with one arm while he uses the other to close the door and lock it. And then my naked back meets the door and Edward's lips meet mine. Fuuuuck!

How the hell does he do that?Kissing him like this, with my body pressed against his, sets my inside on fire in no time. We have been together just this morning, but apparently the more you get, the more you want. He has awakened a hunger I didn't know I had in me, a hunger only he can appease.

He breaks the kiss and looks at me, breathing heavily through parted lips. I can see lust and adoration in his eyes. And a hint of despair, too. He needs to know, to feel that I am here with him. He needs reassurance. And I need to get my hands on him. Everywhere on him...

I shove my fingers under the hem of his shirt and let them roam his silky skin. Oh my God, he feels amazing... his small hips and waist, the toned stomach. My thumbs caress the bows of his lower ribs and then graze the soft path of hair down from his belly button to where it vanishes in the waistband of his jeans.

He sighs and lets his forehead sink against mine. I repeat my movements a few times, sliding both thumbs up to his belly button again and then down as far as they get. Then I feel his fingers dig into my behind; he lifts me off of him and puts me on my feet.

I lean back against the door and watch him strip off his shirt in that odd manly manner... reaching over his shoulders with both arms, grabbing two fistfuls of fabric to pull it over his head and in front of his chest and then shrugging out of the sleeves.

I smile at him. My beautiful man. And he smiles back at me, despair gone for the moment. All that is left is the lust and the adoration. I swear I could orgasm just from the way he looks at me, and then... oh God – he gets on his knees right in front of me and buries his face in my jeans-clad lap. And when he moans my name, my juices start to flow as if someone has flicked a switch.

This time, a not so quiet moan escapes me. I'm almost sure his parents can hear me, but I can't hold it in. And I don't mind. For all I care, shall Esme hear it and learn that she couldn't prevent this... that she couldn't prevent the love!

Edward starts unbuttoning my jeans, breathing deeply through flared nostrils with a rapt expression on his face. I know he likes the way I smell down there when I'm aroused. He told me so last night. And when I laughed and asked him whether he gets paid for telling me shit like that, he didn't get my sarcasm. He means it. And right now, as he pulls my jeans and panties down my legs with that look on his face... fuck, I like my own smell, too.

He holds my pants and shoes down as I step out of them, and then he tosses it all aside. "Need you..." he whispers once more, looking up at me, and starts to unbuckle his belt. I get weak in the knees, suddenly grateful for the solid door behind me. 'Yes!', I think. And 'Oh God!', and then it hits me.

"Edward, we don't have a condom!"

He stops opening his pants and grabs my hips instead. He bends forward and starts kissing my belly. My eyes flutter close for a moment at the sensation. My hands are at the back of his head already, raking through his hair. How can he get me so worked up so quickly? This can't be normal!

"Edward, did you hear me?" I ask with my last bit of resistance.

He lifts his head just long enough to give me a nod, and then his mouth is right there. And his tongue, licking, circling, teasing right there! "Ohhh..." is all I can utter; it's almost a cry. And fuck, that was loud, wasn't it? My knees almost give way for real now. My legs start shaking; this is just too good. But I don't know if I can stand this way. I want to give him better access, I want his head between my thighs... want to hold it there, I... fuck – I want to grind my clit against his face!

I have no idea where that came from, but I moan loudly at the thought and God help me, I'm already close. But I can't spread my legs. I feel like I can barely hold myself upright. Edward notices my distress and pulls away. No!

"Please don't stop, don't stop..." I pant, not giving a shit about how whiny I sound, or if anyone can hear me. Even though I still clutch at his hair, Edward manages to bend sideways and away from me. In my near-orgasm haze I watch incredulously as he quickly pulls the wooden chair from under the nearby desk, turns it around with one swift move of his arm and shoves it next to me against the door. He takes my right hand and puts in on the backrest. "Hold on," he says, a little breathlessly. Then he gently lifts my right knee, places my foot on the seat and looks at me questioningly.

What? I'm too stunned to say anything.

He takes my left arm by the wrist and lays his cheek into my palm. "Bella?"

Oh God, what? I want to say something like 'Ok, yes, yes, this is ok, great idea!' But all I can manage is a toneless "Please..."

He lets go of my wrist and covers my hand in his. He interlaces our fingers and brings both our hands to the back of his head. He looks into my eyes one more time, and when I think I can't stand it any longer, he moves... wemove, our joined hands pressing his head between my welcoming thighs, together... guiding his mouth back to where I need it and holding it there, with gentle force... together.

I cry out in pleasure. I'm loud. I'm loved. I'm all woman, and I'm wanted.

And when I'm dancing on the edge of my release, ready to let go... when I squeeze his hand so tightly that my knuckles get white... he squeezes it back, telling me that when I fall, he will catch me.

Little Green & Easybella Chapter 14

2011-11-14T12:49:00.000-08:00

(BELLA)

"We should get inside, Edward." I'd probably come across much more convincing if I wasn't leaning into his embrace like this... if I wasn't tilting my head so he can trail more kisses along my neck, or if I wasn't reaching up to comb my fingers through his hair. But he just told me I am in his soul, so how's that for an excuse?

"You don't mean it," he replies matter-of-factly, pulling me even closer to himself from behind. "And I missed you. So much!"

"I missed you too, but I do mean it. Please let's go inside now." Before Esme comes out to kill me.

"Ok then... we can go upstairs to my old room, if you'd like?"

I'm enjoying him nuzzling my neck far too much to understand right away what he's really suggesting; it takes me a few seconds, but eventually...

"Edward!" I squirm free and turn around, laughing. "You are such a tease!"

"No, I'm... not," he objects, looking confused. "They won't come in there when the door is closed. They never do."

God, he is serious. And so sweet. I'm this close to giving in and sneaking into his old room with him, just because I hate to disappoint him. And well, maybe also because the idea is really tempting. But of course this is not the time.

"Dinner, with your parents – remember?"

(EDWARD)

Bella is right, of course. Dinner. Yes.

I'm so easily distracted when I'm with her, like nothing else matters but her. And it doesn't even bother me, the chaos she evokes by just being around. I know this is because I am in love; it's what happens to people when they fall in love. Head over heels, right? My mind is a mess, but it's a beautiful mess... with her around it's beautiful. Also, I know it's supposed to wear off over time, which right now I honestly find very difficult to believe.

Bella doesn't want my arms around her as we go inside, but I keep my hand at the small of her back and she seems to be ok with that. I watch her shaking hands with Esme. My mother's eyes dart back and forth between Bella and me. She looks worried, of course. Always worried, always Esme... but unlike a few minutes ago before Bella arrived, I don't care now. At. All. Her overprotectiveness doesn't upset me anymore.

If anything, it is the prospect of having to endure the family dinner that's bothering me; I'm not hungry and I'm not looking forward to long conversations at the table. That's going to be difficult. Because I'm head over heels. Because I'm still thinking about how to lure Bella upstairs to my old childs room and make love to her as soon as possible. Or at least cop a feel... that's what they call it, right? Cop a feel?

Cop. A feel. That's so funny...

I slowly move my hand at Bella's back a little lower and a little sideways towards the curve of her hip. I squeeze lightly and she flinches, almost imperceptibly. A quiet chuckle escapes me, to my own surprise. I'm pretty sure it's earning me another special look from Esme, but I don't care. I still don't care. I keep staring at Bella's back and the ribbon of her apron. I'd really like to give that one loose end a tug right now, and then maybe...Cop. A feel.

I know I'm acting weird. I'm not focused, not 'on track'... and amazingly, I couldn't care less. If Bella hadn't reminded me, I would have forgotten dinner and my parents altogether. I would have acted like a stupid child with no upbringing whatsoever, all social skills and sense of responsibility out the window, and I honestly couldn't care less! Am I being selfish? I just don't care... I am carefree. The thought is hilarious somehow and I laugh out loud.

Oops. All eyes on me.

"What's so funny, darling? Care to share?"

It's Always-Worried-Always-Esme who's asking, clearly confused now.

"I'm sorry... or... no, I'm not." I don't care! What is wrong with me? I guess it's just that... "I'm feeling good, is all." Again, I snort with laughter. They must think I'm not in my right mind.

Esme's face is a battlefield of conflicting emotions, as if she doesn't know herself whether to be amused or irritated. And if she doesn't know herself, then how should I? I quickly avert my gaze; there's no use in even trying to read her. Seems I'm not the only one acting weird today.

(BELLA)

Esme is looking as bewildered by Edward's hilarity as I'm feeling. I have no idea what he can possibly find so funny about this situation. Also, I wish he would stop touching me so conspicuously, while I'm trying to make a reasonably dignified appearance in front of his mom. Who, by the way, is just now scrutinizing me as if I were the one responsible for his out of line behavior. Well, maybe I am, but Jeez...

There's a throat clearing, and from the corner of my eye I see Carlisle stepping up behind Esme. He is smiling as he addresses Edward, "Your mother and I are happy you're feeling good. Well, that was the whole point of my little trip, wasn't it? But now - I don't know about everyone else, but I'm starving, so..."

"Oh, sure!" Esme snaps out of her unusual state of confusion. "Bella, I hope you're hungry? Of course you are, what with my husband kidnapping you right out of work. It looks like he didn't even leave you a chance to change. If you'd like to wash up quickly, the bathroom is... well... still where it used to be – how silly of me! You know where the bathroom is."

Did she just wrinkle her nose? Really? Or did I imagine it?

"I do. Thanks." I say, unable to keep the tinge of acid out of my voice. In reaction to my barely concealed dismay, Edward steps even closer to me and starts rubbing my back. I turn around to him, peel his hand off of me and give it a little squeeze. "I'll be back in a minute," I assure him, just in case he is already contemplating following me to the bathroom.

He gives a nod and smiles at me, seemingly at ease with everything. So I straighten myself, direct a polite smile at both Esme and Carlisle, and then hurry down the hallway to where I remember the small guest bathroom is.

Once I make it inside and bolt the door, I slump down and exhale a long breath. Even though noone did me any harm, I suddenly feel defeated. My pink armor and stitched-on crest have transformed into a cheap apron and a simple name tag again. They've lost their magic power and my morale is oozing away. I feel shabby. I don't belong here. This is going to be a long evening.

(EDWARD)

As soon as Bella is gone, Esme starts to bustle. She ushers Carlisle and me to our places at the round dining table, where she adamantly orders us to sit down side by side. Then she disappears in the kitchen where I can hear her telling Kaure, our Brazilian maid, that we're good to go now. She returns, only to excuse herself once again, saying she'll be right back. And off she goes again. Which leaves me and Carlisle.

This is uncomfortable, and compulsively, I drop my gaze to the table-cloth and start counting leaves and stitches again. In no time, my carefree mood has switched to an unpleasant tension. I really don't want it to be this way. I don't want to feel this way. Carlisle deserves so much better.

It's always been like that, and I never figured out why. Carlisle has always been nothing but kind and patient. Never did he do anything to deserve my irrational rejection. And I know it saddens him. I know. But even after what he did today, I seem to be unable to talk to him.

Eleven stitches... five up to the middle, each of them a little longer than the one before...

I WANT to talk to him, but I can't.

Take a break at No 6, the longest stitch... breathe...

I did talk to him in front of the house though and it was good. It really was.

Seven, eight, nine, ten... I looked him in the eyes and he understood, and he brought Bella here.

Eleven... one leaf down... onehundred and nineteen more to go, approximately...

He brought Bella here, because he understood.

One, two, three, four... STOP!

Breathe.

Open your mouth and -

And what?

Say something!

What to say?

Doesn't matter. Just speak.

Bella's sandwich trick... don't think... ONE... just count... TWO... and then... THREE... speak:

"Sir, I -"

"Edward..." he stops me with a sigh, but I can hear the smile in his voice. "Do we have to go there again? It's Carlisle, please, not Sir. Alternately, you could call me Dad, but I guess that's out of the question."

"Carlisle." Well, that wasn't too difficult. But his interruption has knocked me off course. I'm stuck again. I curl my fingers into tight fists to keep them from grazing the oh so tempting embroidery, but my eyes are still roaming its perfect and calming order. I need to look at something else. Now.

I turn my head, slowly, and my eyes find the center of Carlisle's chest. Not good enough; I know, I know... He is waiting patiently, like always. He never pushed me; he's always been patient. And he's always been sad.

I lift my head and find my safe spot to look at above his shoulder. It feels like I can't breathe right, like there's not enough air in my lunges to speak. My heart is pounding, and it's like thunder in my ears. All I can manage is a weak whispering, but I say the one thing I truly want him to know.

"Carlisle, I'm really sorry." I take a wheezing breath, and my eyes drop to his chest again.

Carlisle turns on his chair to look at me. "There's nothing to be sorry for, son. I really didn't mind picking up Bella. And it was absolutely my pleasure, I assure you."

He doesn't understand. I need to... "It's not about today." I start feeling dizzy with the lack of oxygen. "It's about everything... all that time... from when you took me in... you and me... I'm sorry."

"Oh God...," he whispers almost inaudibly. Even though I know it's just my messed up breathing, it seems to me that all the air has been sucked out of this room. But I still need to say one thing.

"I want to try... I WILL try to be better, S... Carlisle," I stammer, and I mean it. From the bottom of my heart, I mean it. I want to be better with Carlisle, and I'm starting right now. I force myself to lift my head and face my adoptive father, eye-to-eye.

"Edward," he says. His smile is gone, replaced by an expression I cannot read. I never was any good at reading Carlisle anyway... didn't practice enough. I make it for like five seconds before I have to fixate my gaze on his chest again. Five seconds, that's a start. It's longer than when I did it outside, earlier today. It's not good enough, but it's a start. Breathing gets easier.

Carlisle reaches out with his arm and stops midway, his hands hovering over my shoulder. "Edward, may I touch you?" he asks softly.

I want to be better, so this has got to be a yes. But I'm done speaking; I need to focus on breathing for now, so I can only nod. And then I freeze. Stiff as a statue, I brace myself for his touch. And when it comes, it's as much as I can do to not flinch. Carlisle just puts his hand on my shoulder and lets it rest there for a moment. It's not that bad. Not bad at all. His hand is warm; I can feel it through my shirt.

He gives my shoulder a little squeeze and says, "You have no idea how proud you're making me."

No, I don't. But I remain silent, reveling in the feeling of his hand on me. Its warmth and its weight calm me down a great degree. I never would have guessed.

"You've always made me proud," he adds and squeezes my shoulder once more. "You have gained so much; watching you learn and grow up and become the man you are now was a blessing and pure joy. Don't be sorry, Edward. There's no reason to be. I would do it all again if I was given the choice, and I would love you just the same."

I'm glad he's touching me, so I don't need to look into his eyes or answer him with words. I can talk to him with my body instead. I lift my shoulder and tilt my head until my cheek is resting on Carlisle's hand. This comes surprisingly easy to me.

"I love you, son," he whispers. In reply, I slowly rub my cheek against the back of his hand. He squeezes my shoulder again, I close my eyes, and then we both keep still.

That's how Esme finds us.

(BELLA)

I finally pull myself together and get up from where I've been sitting on the tile floor with my back against the door. I walk over to the sink, peeling myself out of the now useless apron on the way. The liquid soap in the elegant dispenser on the wall smells like vanilla. I remember that smell and how that porcelain thing once made me feel special and elegant myself when I used it. Now it only adds to my feeling of misplacement.

"Nothing wrong with the simple bar of soap in my own bathroom," I assure my reflection in the mirror. "Makes those fingers squeaky clean all the time!" I start washing my hands almost angrily before I splash my heated face with cold water a few times. I'm not wearing make up or mascara or anything, so I don't worry about that.

Looking up, I watch the rivulets drip down off my face and into the sink for a few seconds. I'm about to start episode two of 'Bella Swan: The Mirror Monologues,' but just when I open my mouth, there's a knock on the door, followed by Esme's voice.

"Bella, are you done? Can I come in for a second?"

Well, seems I'll have to get by without giving myself a decent pep talk. "Just a moment, please," I answer and grab a towel to dry off my face. I unbolt the door, and in comes a shy looking Esme, a pile of clothing on her arms. She smiles at me apologetically. There's nothing left of her earlier judging attitude, no more hint of the mild but noticeable resentment towards me.

"I'm sorry, Bella," she indeed apologizes, "I didn't mean to sound so... presumptuous. I was just a little nervous, what with Edward having an anxiety attack and all. It was the first in months, and it was basically because of you, so..."

"That's ok. I think we're all a little nervous, aren't we?"

"Yes."

Esme seems genuinely relieved, and so am I. This is the woman I'm familiar with, the one I used to think of as the mother I didn't have. It's the Esme I like and, more important, the Esme who likes me. Within a moment, I feel more comfortable.

"And to be perfectly honest, I'm still surprised how things between you and him have developed so quickly and... so, yes... well, I guess I really wasassuming things, and I'm sorry."

"I would never do anything to harm him." I love him.

Esme doesn't look entirely convinced, but she nods her head yes and leaves it at that.

"Look," she says and starts to lay down the clothes she brought on the vanity, "I hope you don't take offense. I just thought, maybe you'd feel more comfortable wearing something fresh for dinner, since my husband apparently didn't think of driving by your place so you could change after your long hours of work. That's why I brought these. You and I are about the same size, so... if you'd like?"

"That's very thoughtful of you, thank you." I have to admit I'd really like to get out of my sweaty t-shirt, the sooner the better. I take a look at the displayed garments; there are a few blouses and even a tailored dress. Everything looks expensive. And very pretty. "Are you sure it is ok for me to borrow your clothes?"

"Absolutely," Esme beams at me, "I'd love for you to wear them. Please take what you like. I'll leave you alone now; I need to check on Kaure... make sure she doesn't mess up our meal. See you in a minute?"

"Sure. Thanks again."

"You're welcome."

I wait until she has closed the door behind her before I dare to inspect the clothes more closely. The dress is really beautiful; it's a black, woolen shift dress with an inserted piece of sheer fabric around the shoulders. Too bad I have to rule it out, but it doesn't exactly match the sneakers I'm wearing.

I choose the blue satin blouse instead, just because I think it's the most casual thing that is there and will look ok with my jeans, too. Sure as hell, it is still a designer piece and handwoven of insanely expensive imported silk, and I just hope I won't spill sauce on it or something. I bolt the door again, strip off my t-shirt and, following a sudden impulse, thoroughly wash my armpits above the sink before I put the blouse on.

It's a very loose fit. About the same size, Esme? Wishful thinking, much? I snicker quietly. But it's incredibly soft on my skin and the color is really pretty and quite flattering. It looks even sexy in a subtle way if I leave the top three buttons open. Nice!

Exited by the idea that Edward would see me dressed well for a change, I feel my confidence rising. I take the brush that's lying on the narrow shelf under the mirror and start working my hair until it's shining. Given I'm in the guest bathroom, I guess it is ok to use the brush. Or is it not? There's a cosmetic purse, too. Maybe Esme has just put things here so she doesn't have to go upstairs every time she needs to freshen up?

Whatever... this is an emergency, sort of. A girl must do what a girl must do, and I'm sure she won't even notice. I open the small purse and look inside. Just like I expected, there's everything a girl needs to do what she must do. But a little mascara is all I take; I don't want to look painted. And well, I don't want Esme to recognize her own lipstick color. Just in case.

When I'm done with my lashes and look at my reflection, I can't help but smile – I'm looking good. A little pale but good. Having a sudden Emily Brontë moment, I pinch my cheeks a few times. I move my face closer to the mirror to check on the effect, but instead of a nice rosy shade I can only see the quickly fading imprints of my thumbs and index fingers. I don't know what disappoints me more – the poor result of it or the fact that all those romantic classics were lying?

Doesn't matter; this is still the best I've looked since Edward's return, and I'm ready for dinner. Thanks, Esme. I fold my shirt and apron and put them on the window sill, making a mental note to not forget them when I'll leave. And now...

Showtime!

Little Green & Easybella Chapter 13

2011-07-19T09:19:00.000-07:00

(BELLA)

Knock, knock, knock...

"Dude, read the sign; we're closed." Tanya sighs and rolls her eyes, the effect dramatically enhanced by the at least four layers of mascara she's wearing (Lash Accelerator, third aisle, second rack, $12.95). Her grimace makes me giggle. That or the beer. Or both? I'm having my second Budweiser (on sale this week, $2.00 a can, instead of $2.10), and I'm feeling a little lightheaded.

Knowing that Edward is having dinner with his parents and won't be back any time soon tonight, I feel like I have no reason to go home today at all. I can't really see myself sitting there holding my breath for any sign of life from him, like a lovesick teenager glued to the phone, and yet this is probably exactly what I would do. Tanya was positively shocked when I actually accepted her weekly offer to buy me an after work drink for the first time ever. But she got over it pretty quick.

So after closing the drugstore and cashing-out, I joined my chatty co-worker in the backroom where I am now listening to her weekend adventures, smoking and drinking and trying to not recollect the feel of Little Green's lips on mine every three or four minutes, for a change. Stressing the word 'trying' here. Yes, that bad!

Knock, knock, knock...

Whoever our after-hour customer may be, he is persistent; I must give him that.

"We're closed!" Tanya hollers, "C. L. O. S. E. D." Then she moans, "Jesus motherfucking Christ – what a moron! Is he illiterate?"

"Maybe it's an emergency? Bad migraine... out of Percocet... who knows? Shouldn't we take a look?"

"Yeah, maybe it's a batshit crazy junkie, ready to slash us as soon as we open the door, who knows? No way, Bella!" She bears her teeth like a chimp and shakes an invisible knife, giving the perfect impersonation of a lunatic serial killer. I almost choke on my beer. Tanya pats my back and grins at me, "Axe murder guy will give up soon, don't worry."

Knock, knock, knock...

I snort with laughter. "I don't think so..." Whether curiosity kills the cat or not, it gets the better of me and I get up to peek through the door crack. It takes me a few seconds to grasp what I'm seeing. My laughter stops with a last embarrassing squeak, and I know this cat is bound to die. It's Carlisle Cullen. Oh my God...

"Oh my God!"

Apparently I said that out loud, because Tanya squeals, "What? What?" She has stepped behind me and tries to look past my head, eager to examine what she believes must be Hannibal Lecter with a really bad headache. But I'm frozen in place, unable to speak. It's like an iron hand closes its cold grip around my heart to keep it from beating.

Dr. Cullen is definitely not here to replenish his aspirin supplies. He's here for me. I bet after hearing the news of the day (i.e. fresh divorcee Bella Swan seducing his barely legal son), he has come to tell me to keep my hands the fuck off of Edward. Probably not in exactly this wording, but anyway... Carlisle leaving the Cullen family dinner and driving all this way can only mean one thing: he is here to tell me that I'm never going to see Edward again.

Knock, knock, knock...

Fuck!

Tanya whisper-screams behind me, "Is that Mr. Cullen?"

"Dr.," I correct her mechanically.

I'm never going to see Edward again!

"Did you not pay your rent or something?"

"Or something, Tanya, yes ..."

I'm never going to see Edward again?

The vise-like grip around my heart briefly tightens once more, before it gives way to something I haven't felt in a long time. Tanya lets go a shocked gasp and steps back as I straighten my shoulders and open the backroom door. In a few long strides I am at the front door.

It's a strange mixture of pride, anger and wild determination that has come over me; it makes my head spin and I know this is not because of the liquid courage (on sale this week, $2.00 a can), but something genuine that has waited inside of me to come out for much too long. And as soon as there's no longer a glass panel in between, I finally let it out, right into Carlisle Cullen's face:

"No!"

"Isabella, I'm glad I caught..." he starts, and then stops mid-sentence, surprised. "No?"

"That's right, no!" I spit, breathlessly. "I know why you're here, Dr. Cullen ..."

"Carlisle," he interposes weakly. But I'm on a roll, sort of, and damn – it feels good!

"Ok... Carlisle – thanks ... whatever. But don't even bother; the answer is no!"

Dr. Cullen, I mean Carlisle, eyes me with a half-smirk. "I beg your pardon?" He doesn't look mad at all, and I'm confused for a moment. But I won't back down.

I hear the unmistakable click and hiss of another Budweiser being opened behind me, and Tanya cheering, "Go girl!" She clearly has no fucking idea what's going on, but in a silly impulse I kind of appreciate her emotional support.

Exactly, go me! I did nothing wrong. I don't care what it looked like. We did nothing wrong.

"Whatever you're going to say, Dr. Carlisle, I am Edward's person." Dr. Carlisle? Jesus...! "I'm his person, and I. Will. Not. Stay. Away. From him!"

He pouts his lips as if to prevent that damn half-smirk to grow into a full one, and I get even angrier. I suddenly wish Esme was here too, so I could tell them both off at the same time. It's all I can do to not stomp my foot in defiance.

"The only person who can tell me to leave Edward alone is Edward himself. No one else!"

Not going to happen!

There we stand – he in his Armani-Boss-Whatever hundreds of dollar suit, and I in my sweaty tee and the embarrassing, pink drugstore apron with my name-tag on it - staring at each other. I'm huffing, ready to fight. I feel invincible.

Never gonna see Edward again, my Ass! And best regards to your wife, Dr. Cullenlisle; tell her I'm not backing down that easily!

Carlisle is the first to break the eye contact. He is still smirking though, and I have to blink a few times as I feel my temporary superiority waver. His gaze wanders down to my name-tag; he nods a few times and then he speaks my name as if reading it syllable for syllable.

"Isabella," he says softly and looks up again. "I'm actually very happy to hear that. By the way, do you like Spaghetti Aglio e Olio?"

(EDWARD)

I've been over the top. Recollecting that episode thirty minutes ago, moment by moment, and watching my agitated self from the outside, I can see that now. Over-reaction. Over-action.

I'm better now, but Esme is upset. She hasn't seen my like that in a while, and I regret that she had to witness my... lapse. She is sitting across from me, elbows on the table, chin resting on her clasped hands. She stopped talking a while ago and is probably wearing her best 'I'm worried about you' face now.

I know she is... I know, I know... always Esme, always worried. But I don't look at her. I can't. I'm too busy counting the stitches in the embroidery of the tablecloth. I run the tip of my index finger over the little green leaves of the rose pattern, again and again. Eleven parallel threads, first increasing and then diminishing in length form such a leaf, absolutely reliable... not ten, not twelve... eleven stitches. Every single leaf. I'm grateful for the embroiderer's accuracy, for the symmetry of the pattern. It helps me to stay calm, outwardly at least. It helps me to not overreact again.

I wish Esme would stop burdening me with her worries. Her constant concern for me is building up in the room like a thick fog. I want to tell her to stop. I want to tell her that Bella is not a disease that has come over me, nothing that can be cured... or should be cured. But I'm afraid to overreact again. So I keep my mind on the leaves and my finger grazing, stem to tip, tip to stem.

Esme's phone buzzes. She answers the call and I hear her say 'yes', and 'oh, good', and I focus even harder on the details in the fabric. Five stitches, each one longer than the one before, up to the middle of the leaf. The sixth one is the longest, and I let my fingertip rest there for a moment before...

"Edward."

… I run it upwards to the tip of the leaf... seven, eight, nine, ten...

"Sweetheart," Esme says, and reaches out for me. Her hand on mine keeps my finger from roaming; her words keep my mind from further obsessing with the needlework. "They are on the way; Carlisle has found her and they will be here in a few minutes."

"Eleven!" I say and breathe a sigh of relief.

(BELLA)

I wish I had asked Carlisle to stop at my place so I could change into something more appropriate. But I just didn't think of that and now it's too late; we're almost there. I'm still in my drugstore gear and yeah... reeking of booze and cigarettes for good measure, and I'm on my way to what must be one of the weirdest impromptu meet-the-parents events in history.

I briefly consider getting rid of the apron, but as silly as that pink thing might be, it somehow gives me strength... a certain sense of dignity. I look down on my name-tag and think, yes that's me, Isabella, making an honest living. So what?

Yes, I'm still in the mood for a decent fight. Even now that Carlisle has filled me in, sort of, on what happened and I know he came to get me because Edward wanted me to be with him so badly, I'm still shaking with anger. I won't let anyone take away or even belittle what is between me and Edward. He had an anxiety attack in front of his parents' house, for Christ's sake. Carlisle has been trying to downplay it, but I have seen Edward in my bathroom. I know what he can be like when he's upset. He doesn't cope well with the situation at all.

I saw it in his face when I left this morning. He looked like he wanted to run after me, and I almost expected him to. I was a little late for work and we said goodbye hastily. Hells, a girl can oversleep after losing her virginity and making love repeatedly for one day and one night in a row, ok? But I should have called the drugstore and said I'd be there a little later. Tanya would have covered me and... ah, shoulda-woulda does no gooda! No use crying over spilt milk. No use pondering on the fact that I look like shit and smell like a trucker bar. This is about Little Green.

And yet I catch myself stealthily trying to smooth my hair, which is completely futile of course. I realize that Edward hasn't really seen me in my best-looking state yet. I've been in my bathrobe, and in jean shorts that should have gone into the laundry long ago. The clothes I whipped on this morning weren't much better. And in between I've just been naked, no make up, bad hair day and all. How could he even...?

I fight back the familiar self-consciousness that suddenly surges up within me. This is not the time! Carlisle has warned me that Esme might be a little upset, so I cling to that newfound rebellious spark that got me going when I saw him at the drugstore. My hand closes around the name-tag above my heart, searching for assurance. This is about Little Green and I will stand my ground.

"You ok?" Carlisle's soft voice kicks me out of my musings. "You're very quiet."

"Yes, I am. Just thinking."

He hums his acknowledgement ... or whatever. Thankfully he doesn't ask what I am thinking about. Then he says, "Here we are." The car stops, and the next thing I know is the passenger door is opened from the outside, and there is Edward.

He takes my hand and like always with him my body follows his pull of its own volition. So unlike my usually clumsy self, I disembark the car gracefully, while I feel like drowning in his green, northern light eyes. In a distant corner of my mind I barely register Carlisle passing us by and murmuring something like, "Don't take too long, kids." Then he is gone, and it's just the two of us.

Edward and I. Little Green and Easybella.

He smiles at me. I love his teeth, they are kind of cute. And his mouth, oh my... Suddenly he bends over a little and sighs, followed by a quiet whimper. Though his smile doesn't falter it sounds as if he is in pain and I grab his arm, alarmed.

"What's wrong, Edward?"

"Nothing. It's just... you're so pretty it hurts."

I blush furiously, and with a dash of embarrassment I turn away from him to fetch my purse out of the car. "Jesus," I chuckle awkwardly, " I'm in my goddamn apron, Edward."

His arms close around my waist from behind; he nuzzles my neck and his breath is leaving goose-bumps in its wake.

"You're in my goddamn soul," he whispers.

I guess I am.

And isn't that an enchanting place to be?

Little Green & Easybella Chapter 12

2011-07-06T08:24:00.001-07:00

(FORKS, AUGUST 2004)

"What do you mean, he spoke?" Carlisle's voice rose an octave with surprise at Bella's sudden revelation. With a quick glance into the rear view mirror he made sure there was no one driving behind them, then he pulled over. When the car came to a standstill, he shut off the engine and turned in his seat.

Bella wasn't looking at him but at her fingers, that were nervously fiddling with the lid of the empty Tupperware box in her lap. She looked uncomfortable, to put it mildly. 'No wonder', Carlisle thought. It had been a strained evening for all of them, what with Edward behaving so strangely.

When he came home from his shift tonight, Bella had still been there when she should have been home long since, and his apparently very agitated son was clinging to her for dear life. Edward was on the verge of an anxiety attack, and no cooing or pleading would make him let go. Esme was also very upset. She even once tried to take Edward's hand and drag him away from Bella, half-heartedly so. But that had only made things worse.

It turned out the only way to put Edward to sleep tonight was with Bella at his bedside, holding his hand. The girl had assured the Cullens several times that she didn't mind, and so Carlisle called her father, explained the situation as best as he could and then had asked for permission to have Bella stay for a little longer, promising to see her home himself as soon as Edward was asleep. Chief Swan had not been exactly thrilled, but Carlisle told him it was an exceptional, one-time situation that would most likely occur never again.

Little did he know...

But now that he was looking at the squirming girl in the passenger seat, he finally got the notion that there was more behind this evening's events. And the information she had just blurted out without warning shook him to the core.

"Edward spoke? To you?"

Bella kept her eyes trained on her hands and nodded.

"God, Isabella, that is... why didn't you mention it before? And what did he say?"

Bella drew in a shattered breath before she merely whispered, "He said just one word; he said 'no'. But he did it twice, and I'm sorry, but I... I... I didn't want you or Mrs. Cullen to get mad at me, and I know I should have called when it happened, and I wanted to, but..." The last words came out between hiccoughs and sobs, and her shoulders were shaking.

"Now, now...," Carlisle soothed. He gently took her small hands; they were ice cold. He started to rub them comfortingly between his palms. "Isabella, won't you tell me what has happened today? I promise, I won't get mad at you, and neither will Esme. But we need to know, don't you think?"

And so Bella told him. About the planned garden picnic, the dog, Edward, his cry, the spade, the cookies, the escape... everything.

She told Carlisle about the word Edward had first yelled at the dog and later whispered to her. She told him about how Edward had clung to her all day from the very moment he had dropped the spade.

She told him that she didn't really know why she hadn't called Esme but had removed every trace of their disastrous picnic and the whole dog incident instead, like she needed to conceal a crime. She didn't even remember how she had managed to remove the blanket and dishes from the lawn, or put the spade back into its place, with Edward holding on to her all the time.

All she remembered was, that there hadn't been any more cookies on the lawn when she went outside, and that she had waited almost two hours before opening the door, to make sure the dog was gone. She repeated that special bit of information several times; like it was her very pivotal point. "I swear, the dog was gone, Dr. Cullen," she sobbed, "I searched the grass for cookies, but there were none. And the dog was gone."

Carlisle was having trouble wrapping his head around the story he'd just been told, but his heart swelled for both the distraught girl and his brave son. He tried not to think about what could have happened to the kids, but focused on the fact that they both got away unharmed. He pulled Bella into a hug and held her for a long while, telling her that she had done well and that he was proud of her. He rocked her gently, telling her how special she was to his family and how thankful he and Esme were for her being such a good friend to Edward. He told her everything would be all right, until her tears had dried.

And all the while, there was one thought repeating itself over and over in his head: 'Edward spoke!' He couldn't wait to give the news to Esme.

(EDWARD)

How long have I been standing here already, staring at the front door? I don't want to be here. I try to feel ashamed about even thinking such a thing, because I know I should be ashamed. But it doesn't work that way. This is my parents' house; this is home. Or it is supposed to be... but I want to be somewhere else. I want to be with Bella, and I can't feel any shame for wanting to. She is home to me now.

I miss her.

We were together all Sunday. Talking. Touching. Making love. And she let me spend the night. More talking, more love-making. I didn't know I could do that much talking, but it was easy as always with Bella. I like the talking. But I like the touching more. I miss the touching. It's like I can still feel her... her hands, her skin, her lips... everywhere on me. And then again not. I guess this is what phantom pain feels like.

She went to work in the morning and we said goodbye in the stairway. I started missing her the very moment she left the house. I felt lost, disoriented. I wanted to follow her, but of course I didn't. I knew it was ridiculous, but the urge was so strong. I stood there in the stairway for quite a while, scrutinizing the strange feeling of being uprooted that had come over me.

I think I would have followed her eventually, but I don't even know where she works. She is a cashier in a drugstore; that's what she told me. But where? What drugstore? I wish I had asked her. And how long is her shift? Maybe she's at home already. What if she doesn't come home? What if something happens to her? How can I go inside and have dinner with Esme and Carlisle when I don't know where Bella is and whether she is ok? I can't even call her. We didn't exchange numbers...

My cell phone in my pocket vibrates and interrupts my frenzied thoughts. It's only then I notice I've been tearing at my hair again. It's a bad habit. I'll probably get a head-ache later. Doesn't matter. I whip out my phone and flip it open. It's Esme.

"Sweetie, are you coming? We were just wondering if you -"

"I'm here," I cut in. There's a moment of silence, then I hear a typical 'Esme' sigh.

"How long have you been 'here'?"

"A while."

"Edward, are you all right?"

"No," I say truthfully. My heart is beating much too fast and I have trouble breathing. I can't stop thinking about Bella, can't stop imagining the crazy scenarios of all the bad things that could happen to her. I can't stop thinking, 'What if she doesn't come back?'

Before I can say anything else, the front door of my parents' house opens and Carlisle comes out. He takes in my appearance, and whatever he sees, it makes him forego any greeting.

"Edward, what is it?"

As always, it is hard for me to talk to Carlisle, or to even look at him. That hasn't changed much. But I hear genuine concern in his voice, and this is an emergency, sort of. I raise my head and my eyes find that special spot right next to his right ear, about 4 inches above his shoulder, and I suck in a wheezing breath.

"It's Bella, Sir," I choke out. "We need to call her." I'm losing it; this is silly. I need to get a grip.

"Edward." I hear them both call my name, Esme over the phone and Carlisle right in front of me. He steps a little closer. He is telling me to calm down. He is extending a hand towards me as if to touch my shoulder. And I'm losing it. I drop my cell and its shell shatters into pieces as it hits the pavement. I flinch and tug at my hair. Darkness floods my field of vision from the edges until there's just a small circle of light left in the center. And then Esme appears in my pinpoint view. She pulls my hands out of my hair and I'm taking gulps of air and, thinking of Bella, I know I need to come back. I need to come down. This is important. Esme's lips are forming words. What is she saying? I need to focus.

"...it about Bella? Take a deep breath and tell me what happened."

Right. Bella. What happened? "She left." No, that sounds stupid. "For work. She's at work, and I... I don't know..."

"What, darling?" Esme is rubbing my shoulders; it drives me insane. I don't want her comfort now. I need to find Bella; I need to know she is ok.

"I don't know where... I don't know..." Calm down, calm down, breathe...! All this anxiety is only making things worse, but it is so hard to pull myself together with Esme's frantic rubbing and stroking. I brush her hands off of me and take a step back. She casts a quick glance to Carlisle and when she turns to face me again, she looks hurt.

"What has she done to you?" she whispers, and there's an angry crease between her brows. Done to me? Who? Bella? No! What...? Another rush of panic. Please, no... why doesn't she understand?

"Edward." It's Carlisle. I can't deal with Carlisle now. Not when even Esme is being difficult. I don't want to. Not now. But his voice is insisting, and from the corner of my eye I see him lay a hand on Esme's shoulder, keeping her from further inquiry.

"Edward," he says again, "son, what is it you don't know? What's troubling you?"

Oh... right question, good question. Relief floods through me because the right question always helps me to say what needs to be said. I manage to look at him, well... at his chest, that is. My stomach turns; there's a burning in my throat and in my nose, and I know if I don't say it right now I won't be able to say it at all. I feel my face contort the very moment I speak, and the words come out like a moan.

"I don't know if she'll come back!" I blurt out the essence of my dread. And then everything gets blurry. My eyes are burning now, too. I blink, and they spill over. Hot. Wet. Down my cheeks. Weakness. Pain. "What if she doesn't come back?" I whisper, to no one in particular. It's just a thought. A terrible, irrational, devastating thought I cannot get out of my head.

"Oh sweetheart... did you two get into a fight?" Angry Esme is gone, caring Esme is back. I shake my head no. Speaking is impossible right now; I can't stop swallowing. I don't even know what it is I'm swallowing over and over.

"Then what... why...?" Esme starts again, but Carlisle interrupts her, squeezing her shoulder with intent.

"I'll go and get her," he says. "I know where she works."

What?

Before I can even think, my head shoots up and my eyes meet his. And what I see there makes me hold his gaze for the first time ever. He understands. He understands what I'm going through. I hear Esme gasp.

"Don't worry, I'll get her," he says again. "If she's already home, I'll pick her up there. You and Esme just go inside, calm down and set an additional place in the meantime. I'll find her, Edward, and I'll bring her here, ok?"

God, yes! I swallow once more. A shudder runs through me, head to toe. My eyes drift away and settle on the safe spot next to his face again. I only manage a few words, but I mean them. I feel them.

"Thank you, Sir."

(FORKS, AUGUST 2004)

"Shall we open it?" Bella asked excitedly. She was getting a little impatient, since Edward had been staring at the wrapped present she had brought for minutes now. She had been rattling on about how much fun it had been for her to make what she thought was the perfect thing to give to him, without giving anything away, of course. "Come on," she huffed. "I would think at least you should be a little bit curious."

Well, Edward wasn't exactly fond of surprises, except for when it came to Bella's cookies. And there weren't cookies under that wrapping, that much he could see. It was flat and soft. He eyed it warily.

"Don't you want to know what I made for you?" Bella cooed.

Edward looked up at her with a totally earnest expression, and said, "No."

'Great', Bella thought, 'his favorite word! Oh no, wait... it's his only word!'

With a dramatic sigh, she snatched the package off the table and started to unwrap it herself. She chuckled when she saw Edward craning his neck.

Oh yes, he so does not want to know what it is!

The last piece of paper wrapping fell away, and what came forth was a piece of red fabric. She quickly pulled it behind her back and got up from her chair. She rounded the table and held out her hand; Edward took it without hesitation and followed her into the hallway. In front of the big coat rack mirror, Bella grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him so that he faced his own reflection, and stepped behind him.

"Close your eyes and raise your arms," she commanded with a smirk. Edward did as he was told; he trusted her completely. Which was a huge mistake, because Bella quickly stripped him of his polo shirt and then insidiously took advantage of his vulnerable posture. Without warning she tickled his armpits, resulting in a severe squirm-and-giggle fit on Edward's behalf. They ended up in a heap of limbs on the floor, with Bella's hands trapped under Edward's arms, both kids snorting and gasping for air.

After that, it took quite a while until Bella had made the boy resume his former position, face to the mirror, arms raised. He was still grinning and his arms twitched overcautiously when Bella moved closer. "Tickle-truce!" she snickered. "I promise! Stay still now..."

Gently, she slid the red fabric, which turned out to be a t-shirt, over his arms and head, and smoothed it down. "There you go," she whispered.

Edward looked at his reflection in the mirror and smiled. The black lettering stood out prominently on the bright red shirt. He didn't quite get the main point of it, but he was excited that Bella had made something especially for him. Very much so.

"Do you like it?" Bella asked, biting her lip.

He turned to look at her, and nodded.

"Really?"

She still worried her bottom lip, looking a little anxious. So Edward decided to rise to the occasion and make an effort to let her know, really know, that he indeed liked her gift. He softly spoke his second word.

"Yes."

Then he turned around again, oblivious of Bella's surprised gasp behind him, and admired once more his new, unique piece of clothing. The print on his chest was showing back-to-front in the mirror, but Edward had no trouble reading it.

It said, 'Chatterbox'.

Little Green & Easybella Chapter 11

2011-06-20T05:30:00.000-07:00

(BELLA)

I can feel his heart throbbing against my chest as he clings to me. His breath is coming in short puffs through his nose, hot against the skin in the crook of my neck. "I know," I tell him, though I'm not quite sure what it is I know. I feel like some kind of wordless understanding is passing between us... about being 'each other's person'. But what does it really mean?

I envy Edward for the certainty with which he claims to simply 'know' that he loves me. I really don't feel like my flop of a marriage has enabled me to tell love from delusion now. Or maybe love is always just delusional. And while I'm at it, hell yes... I think I'm falling in love with Edward, and I can hardly keep myself from telling him so.

But I shouldn't tell him. How can this possibly be love? We've just met again hours ago. Hours! And he is only eighteen, and he is special, and Esme... oh God, Esme. I really shouldn't. Though it's hard not to feel like falling in love with Edward, what with him baring his soul – and his body – to me like that. I want to give myself over to that feeling. He's just so beautiful.

Maybe I'm just romanticizing everything; I can't tell. But isn't this what people are doing all the time anyway, when it's just hormones going wild? Being meant for each other and such... Christ, I lost my virginity this morning; who wants to blame me for getting emo? I never was even half as attracted to Jake and yet I had confused what we had with love. Stupid, sentimental, romantic me. And what did it bring me? Yeah, right...! And what did I learn from it? Not much apparently.

He is still clinging to me, unmoving. And I hold him tight and I realize that I don't know shit about love (yeah, thank you very much, Jake), but still...

I bite my lip. Then I bite my tongue. I love you, Edward.

No. I really shouldn't.

"Bella?"

I wince a little at the sudden sound of him speaking. "Yes?"

"Can I be inside of you one more time? Just a little?"

What? Again? Is he serious? "Edward, I don't think we –"

"Please," he whispers against my temple. "I just want it so badly."

Oh God...

How is it even possible that his words go straight down to my girl parts? Again! I can't decide whether to laugh or to cry. I can feel his erection nudge my belly, and there's no way to 'ignore it' this time.

"I'll be gentle," he says, his voice soft and pleading. "I promise." I am literally melting in his arms. And he knows it; he knows I want him before I know it myself. I don't need to say anything; my body is betraying me. Also, I just might have nodded my head 'yes'... Christ, what is wrong with me?

We slowly untangle and he reaches across my body and opens the nightstand drawer. We don't speak. I use my teeth with the wrapping like he had done this morning. He is caressing my neck and my cheeks, stroking back wayward locks of my hair, as I sheath him with the condom. His eyes never leave mine. There is no awkward fiddling this time, no rash excitement. Despite the powerful desire for each other, this is a moment of tranquility.

Everything is slow and calm... the breathing, the movements, the way he brings his body on top of mine and nudges my legs apart. Everything is silent, except for the hypnotizing sounds of our lovemaking... air being sucked in and leaving the lunges in a mesmerizing rhythm, the small whoosh of skin sliding along skin, the little smacks of lips and tongues, and the moan Edward exhales when he touches me there and finds me wet and swollen and ready for him.

He enters me ever so slowly. I am a bit sore, but I don't care because the sensation of him filling me, the heat building and spreading inside of me immediately drowns out any discomfort. He hasn't even started to thrust yet, but goes deeper and deeper, pushing forward minutely until our hips are pressed flush against each other. His eyes burn into mine and they speak to me, asking questions and giving answers at the same time. They are not clouded with lust this time, and lust is not what this is about. It's about being close, impossibly close to each other.

We're taking our time; we both want this to last. He is hovering over me, perfectly still, until I lift my own hips ever so slightly and he pulls back for the first time, almost all the way out. I gasp at the sensation of him moving inside of me, craving him back immediately. When he pushes back, he lets go a prolonged sigh and closes his eyes. His head sinks against my shoulder, and he stills again. Slowly, his upper body comes flush against my chest. His right hand is cradling my cheek. I lean my face into it and give myself over to the feeling. I've never felt that safe and cared for in my life, never felt that much...

"...home," he whispers.

Oh God! I love you, Edward.

His left arm underneath me tightens its hold across my shoulder blades, his hand on the nape of my neck pulls me even closer to him. Carefully, to keep us joined, he pulls his knees up and spreads his legs until I can feel his thighs on either side of my hips. I cross my ankles behind his bottom. We couldn't get any closer if we tried.

There's no pulling and pushing any more; when he starts moving again, our bodies stay that way as though they're glued to each other. Very slowly, very sweetly, he gyrates his hips. I welcome him deep, so deep inside of me, embracing him with everything I have... arms, legs, heart and soul. For a moment I feel like I could fight for this, for him. Like I should fight for us. Like I should tell Esme and everyone else to go to hell. Like it must be the easiest thing in the world to make this work.

Edward and I. Little Green and Easybella. Aren't we meant to be?

I don't know how long we keep going like that with our bodies rocking like one; time has lost its meaning. But neither of us is searching release. After a while, I feel him going soft again and we just slow down until we stop moving at all. He lifts his head and we look at each other, contented and filled with wonder. A silent, mutual 'Are you ok?' - 'Yes, I am.' passes between us.

"More than that," I say. And he smiles and nods. His weight becomes a little uncomfortable; he notices before I can say anything and lifts himself up on his elbows, slipping out of me in the process. We both giggle a little at the feeling.

He bends down to kiss me. We don't close our eyes; I don't know why. But it is lovely, kissing with our eyes open. I never did this before. It feels even more intimate this way.

"Can I stay?" he suddenly asks.

I turn my head to the window. The sun is low; it must be late afternoon by now. "You mean, over night?"

"No." He takes my hand and holds it against his heart. "I mean, can I stay?"

Yes! I love you, Edward.

My heart breaks into a mild gallop. "Well, you've just got home, right?" I try to make light of it.

His brows knit together. "I don't understand what that means."

Of course not. I'm so stupid. I know what he's asking, and yet I'm making jokes. Why can't I just say it? What is there to lose?

"Bella?"

Shall Esme kick me out of here, dammit! I am his person, and if she can't see that...

"Please stay with me, Edward." I love you!

His eyes squeeze shut. "Yes," he moans, "a thousand times yes!" Then he hugs me tightly, laughing into my neck.

"A thousand times?" I giggle, surprised.

"A thousand times and more," he confirms. "Yes!"

And I could swear he does a little fist-pump behind my back.

Little Green & Easybella Chapter 10

2011-06-20T05:25:00.000-07:00

(EDWARD)

"Of all the people in this world, you are my person."

She can't deny this. There is no one else. There is no one like her for me.

I'm not like that Jacob. I would never ever let anyone or anything hurt her.

I would die for her.

FORKS, AUGUST 2004

It was on a Wednesday when Bella heard Edward speak for the first time. It was just one single word and she was the only one who heard it. Well, she and the dog...

After discreetly monitoring Bella and Edward for a month – and with a little pushing from her husband – by the end of August Esme had finally resumed her work as a volunteer at the Olympic Community Action Program, a local charity group. On Wednesdays, she would help organizing Meals on Wheels, which meant that Edward had Bella to himself all afternoon.

And on Wednesdays, Bella would bring home made cookies. She made different types of cookies all the time; never did she bake the same kind twice. Edward slowly lost his aversion for everything unpredictable and learned to enjoy the anticipation... at least when it came to Bella's surprise baked goods.

Wednesday had become Edward's favorite day.

Today's cookies were amazing - semi-sweet, with a white chocolate icing and peanut butter chips inside – and they looked and smelled so mouth-watering that Edward let go an excited little laugh when he peeked inside the Tupperware container.

Bella suggested they have a milk and cookie picnic in the garden, and he nodded enthusiastically. He quickly skimmed through the bundle of laminated communication cards he wore on a lanyard around his neck and then showed her the one that said, 'I'm hungry'.

"Sure you are," Bella giggled. "Come on, make yourself useful. We need plates and cups."

The boy jumped into action, and soon they had a blanket spread out on the lawn and Bella was dividing the cookies equally onto two saucers. Edward watched her intently; he loved watching Bella when she did things like that. She had a special way of handling multiple items, like the way she used to put his pencils in rank and file when she sat down with him to supervise his homework. Or the day when she had brought a bag of jelly beans, she had started to sort them by color - just for fun, she'd said. But for Edward, watching her tiny hands create a comforting order where there'd been chaos before was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen.

Bella was quite aware of Edward's eyes on her. She also knew that he liked what she was doing. He liked things in balance... order and symmetry calmed him. So she put an extra effort in counting the exact same amount of cookies for each saucer and arranged them in a neat pattern.

Without looking up, she said, "Why don't you go and get your book? I can read to you if you'd like," and smiled to herself when she heard his naked feet pit-pat inside.

She was just about to pour two cups of milk when she felt the hair in her neck stand up. She didn't recognize it right away, but something was wrong. Then she noticed the subtle but constant noise that didn't belong here, and it made her blood curdle... it was the panting of a dog. A big dog, judging by the sound of it.

Bella was afraid of big dogs.

She slowly turned her head to look over her shoulder and stifled a scream. There he was, only a few yards away... a big black German Shepherd was sitting on the lawn inside of the Cullen garden. He was already inside! Her heart was racing. The dog was fucking huge, a nightmare of a dog. His long tongue was lolling out between his scary fangs, dripping and twitching.

And he was already inside!

He must have jumped over the fence. Almost too scared to be able to move, Bella got on her feet in slow motion. The dog just sat there and stared. Bella suddenly realized that she knew him; it was one of the dogs from the Quileute reservation. She remembered that she'd seen Jake walking him. Jake even had teased her a few times, pretending to unleash him. 'He just wants to play, Bella!' Jake thought it was fun and that her fear was silly, but Bella had been terrified.

Was Jake here? Did he let the dog in, thinking of it as a big joke? Bella's eyes skimmed the trees and bushes. "Jake?" she asked meekly. And a little louder, "Jake, are you here?" There was no answer, but when Bella looked at the dog again, he was no longer sitting. He was on all four paws and yes – he had definitely moved a little closer. Time ran out.

On shaking legs, Bella turned towards the house and almost lost it when she saw Edward standing in the open glass door, wide-eyed, with his book tucked under his arm. She didn't think twice – not withstanding that she'd give up her own escape that way, she called to him, "Get inside! And close the door!" He didn't move. "Now, Edward!" she yelled.

Looking over her shoulder once more, Bella saw the dog breaking into a trot. She finally panicked and turned around to run. Of course, she stumbled and fell. She fell on the blanket, landing on her stomach and sending saucers and cups flying. The dog was there in a heartbeat; she could hear him panting right next to her. Scared to death, Bella covered her head with her arms and kicked out blindly at the now growling animal. She felt something tug at the leg of her jeans and wailed. The fabric gave way with a ripping noise as the dog started to drag the sobbing girl across the lawn.

And then Bella heard the yelling...

"Aaaaahhhhhhh...!" It was a desperate roar, a war cry of sorts, and there was only one person who could have given it. The dog yelped as if something had hit him and let go of her. Bella felt something soft and heavy slam down onto her calves, pinning them down. She writhed underneath that new weight, struggling to turn over. Once she was on her back, she hastily propped herself up on her elbows, looked up and gasped.

Little Edward had thrown himself over her legs, a spade in both his hands, raising it over his head threateningly against the surprised animal. Edward was here, when he was supposed to be safely inside! And he was trying to shield her, with nothing but an ordinary spade and his own small body between her and at least 100 pounds of pissed-off German Shepherd... Bella thought she'd pass out any moment with shock. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't move.

The dog had backed off a good deal and was now nervously stepping from side to side, confused. He actually looked a little frightened. And he was limping, avoiding putting any weight on his left hind leg where Edward had hit him with the garden tool. He growled at the small human who had shown up so unexpectedly and hurt him.

Edward growled back, shaking the spade.

The dog crouched and took a slow step towards the two kids.

That was when Edward for the first time raised his voice to speak. Loud and clear, he said, "No!"

It had no immediate effect on the rattled animal. But hearing Edward utter a word finally kicked Bella out of her stupor. She grabbed a handfull of the scattered cookies and threw them. The dog, more cautious now, ducked under the missiles. But after a brief snuffling, he started to eat them, the humans completely forgotten.

Bella wriggled her legs out from underneath Edward, pulled him up on his feet and quickly dragged him towards the house. She closed the door and grabbed the cell phone Esme had given her for any cases of emergency. It was then that she noticed Edward was standing there, staring at her and still clutching the spade.

Bella dropped the phone and went down on her knees in front of him.

"Edward... oh God. What were you thinking? I told you to stay inside! Oh my God, you could have..."

She tried to pry his fingers off the spade handle, but he held on to it so hard that his knuckles were white. "Let go," she pleaded, tearing up. "You can put it away now. Please..." He didn't loose his grip.

Bella gave in. The aftermath of the shock finally got the better of her; she hid her face in her hands and sobbed helplessly.

After a few seconds, the spade hit the floor with a loud clang.

Then there were little arms around her neck, little hands stroking her hair, and a small voice whispering, "No."

(EDWARD)

She nods her head slowly and whispers, "Yes."

Or I think it was a yes?

Was it?

It was barely audible...

"Yes?" I hold my breath.

She pulls me closer, pulls me into her warm embrace... home... her skin on my skin, her lips on my forehead, her words my release...

"I am your person, Edward."

Little Green & Easybella Chapter 9

2011-06-20T05:24:00.000-07:00

(EDWARD)

"I will answer each and every question as best as I can," Bella says. I can feel her gaze on me and I'm still scared. Damn scared and dumb and suddenly mute again, just like the boy I was when she and I first met. As if I'd learned nothing in those last eight years...

I wasn't actually speech-impaired as a child; I was fully capable of using my lips and tongue and vocal chords to form words and sentences. But most of the time I just couldn't see the reason why I should make the effort. Why would it mean anything to anyone if I spoke? Likewise, the things people talked about hardly ever made sense to me. I understood perfectly what they were saying, it just had nothing to do with anything. Their lives and mine didn't synchronize. I wanted them to leave me alone.

Occasions when I had actually felt the need for some vocal utterance were few, and even then I remained silent. It wasn't that I had no words, rather that I had too many. My head was filled with thousands and thousands of words. Endless chains of words and meanings in quick succession. Important words, empty words, pretty words, useful words, wayward words, made-up words, words, words, words... maybe I would have spoken, if I'd only been able to pick the right ones out in time.

And right now I wish I could stop that whirlwind of questions in the back of my mind, so I could just pick one and ask it. But I'm not ten years old anymore; I've learned to speak and communicate and act normal, and usually I'm pretty good at that. I just need to focus harder...

I'm trying to picture a typewriter, one of those old curvy monsters of a typewriter you sometimes still see in black and white movies, and two hands typing all those questions with just their index fingers. Slowly. Awkwardly. It's a helpful image. However, when I try to read what those fingers are typing, the paper still just shoots out from beneath the platen at a crazy speed that doesn't match the typing at all, and everything gets blurry.

Maybe I'm just too tired. I've spoken a lot today, and the hurt is exhausting. The feeling of panic that rises in my chest when I try to look Bella in the eye is debilitating.

"Maybe we should get dressed before you start asking any questions?" Bella suggests. I can still feel her eyes on me... everywhere on me. I look down at myself. I don't want to put my clothes back on, but maybe my nakedness makes her uncomfortable? Because of what happened in the kitchen... maybe she is afraid I will lose control again? Not very likely...

"It is no imminent danger to you right now; don't worry," I assure her. My limp penis really doesn't look like anything to be afraid of. It looks small, actually. Women like big penises, right? Though Bella seemed to like mine when we were in her bedroom. She looked at me and touched me there. She even took me in her mouth - oh God...

"Do you prefer them big?" I blurt out.

"What?"

"Penises... do you like big penises?"

She makes a weird noise, as if she is close to suffocating; it sounds alarming. I force myself to face her, ignoring the burning discomfort it causes, and what I see is nothing I would have expected, but it is wonderful. Bella is laughing. And crying? Her cheeks are glistening as if she'd just cried, but she's shaking with laughter now. Did I make her cry? I don't know... but I make her laugh now, and that's good. So good.

"Seriously, Edward? This is your first question?"

Seems I accidentally said something funny again, but I couldn't be happier about it. I grin at her and shrug my shoulders. "Uhm... I guess not?"

She is laughing even harder now, and I feel the hurt glide off of me like a heavy coat as I watch her. Suddenly I can hold her gaze easily again. It's like Bella has just come back from some place where I wasn't able to follow.

"It just crossed my mind," I try to explain, which she appears to find completely hysterical. She holds her belly and giggles like a little girl, and even emotionally spent as I am, it makes me laugh, too. It feels good, so good. She is amazing.

"I'm sorry," she wheezes, "but I really didn't expect that. Oh my God, you're so... so..."

She shakes her head and smiles at me so lovingly; it makes my heart beat faster. And then she's in my arms and her hands are stroking my cheeks, and she's back with me and I know this is all I want. Her warm body pressed against mine, skin to skin. She's back, and her hands tell me everything I need to know for now. Yes, they say, a thousand times yes. If she loves me the way I love her, or some other way, or no way at all - I don't care. Right now, this is all I want... all I need.

"Bella...," I breathe.

"You're just incredible, do you know that?" she whispers. "You're too good to be true, Little Green." She peppers my face with kisses and rubs her cheek against mine. "And your penis is king-size as far as I can judge. And yes, I like them big."

That's good, right?

One question down.

(BELLA)

He didn't want to put his clothes back on. So we are still naked. We are lying in my bed, which is also still naked since I didn't bother to put a new sheet on it. He is looking at me again – I mean, really looking at me – and it's such a relief. We are both pretty groggy, so we just lie here, facing each other in silence. Edward is holding my hand, close to his mouth, alternately blowing heavy sighs or soft kisses on the back of my hand. I can see he is struggling.

"My thoughts are all over the place," I offer. "How about yours?"

He nods his head yes and sighs again; this time it sounds like a little moan.

"Too many questions, huh?" Nod.

"You don't know where to begin?" Another nod.

"I'm still amazed that you're talking at all... to hear your voice. It's awesome." And again with the nod.

"Edward, you already messed up with your first question anyway – no need to start being picky now."

I am delighted to see a little smirk pull at the corners of his mouth.

"It made you laugh," he says. "I liked that."

"Yeah, me too. Listen, I have an idea. Do you remember when you were little and how you sometimes got stuck when you had to make a choice? Like that day when I wanted to make you a sandwich, and because I didn't know what kind of sandwich you liked and because Esme just made the very same thing for you every day and never gave you any choice, you had trouble choosing. Hells, I didn't know you hated choices, and I offered you cheese and ham and tuna, and oh my God, you went almost catatonic! Do you remember that day?"

He smiles and swallows. "I remember."

"You probably would have starved if I had waited for you to pick a filling. Do you remember what I said to you?"

"Every word," he says. "You told me to stop trying, and then you said, 'I will count to three now, and on three..."

I finish the sentence in unison with him, "...you will just point your finger at one of these things without thinking."

"Ate my first tuna sandwich," Edward mumbles. "Delicious."

I look into his green eyes, wondering what else he does remember with such precision. He even recalls my exact words. That old memory just came back to me out of nowhere, but if I search my mind for more, all I can find are blurry fragments. Anyway, this special one comes in handy.

"Maybe it still works. Let me count to three, and then you just spill the next best thing that's on your mind, ok?"

It's what you're doing anyway all the time, Litte Green, so don't be shy now!

He closes his eyes and squeezes my hand. That's a yes.

"One...

two...

three!"

"Why husband did you sent him where?" Edward gasps out.

Huh?

I gape at him. He moans, "Fuck... I mean..."

We both burst into laughter, and the mattress is shaking underneath us as we hold on to each other.

"That sucked," he snorts.

"No, no," I manage between giggles, "that was a really good question. Four questions in one, actually."

"Yeah, I'm that eloquent," he says, pulling me closer. Our foreheads bump together and after a few more gasps our laughter dies down. We stay like that for several endless seconds, waiting for our breathing to even out which just doesn't happen. His mouth brushes against mine ever so slightly, like the wing of a butterfly, and then he just waits. He is keeping perfectly still, with his parted lips almost touching mine. His breath is ghosting over my face and he just waits for... what? My permission?

I gently press my mouth on his. I'd like to tell myself that it is just because I don't have the heart, after his breakdown in the bathroom, to deny him a simple, chaste kiss like this. But the tingling in my chest and stomach and further south is betraying me, and who am I kidding – I'm the one who shoves her tongue between his lips, eager to deepen the connection and oh God, it feels so good...

Edward kisses me back for all that he's worth, breathing heavily through his nose, and I can feel his cock harden and twitch against my naked belly. A muffled moan escapes him before he suddenly pulls back and whispers, "I'm sorry... kissing you is just... I can't help it. Just ignore it."

"Ignore it?"

"Yes, please. It will go away, I promise. Can I kiss you again?"

"Will that help?"

"Yes!"

I cock an eyebrow at him.

"No," he backpedals, "and yes. Maybe. I don't know. Please...?"

We kiss again, longer this time, more heated. It definitely doesn't help making the king-size 'it' go away, but to hell with it. I revel in the knowledge that a kiss, just a simple kiss from me can do this to him. Ok, it's not a very simple kiss any more, what with his hand stroking my backside and gliding down my thigh to the hollow of my knee, hitching my leg over his hips. The voice in my head telling me we shouldn't do this is reduced to a feeble murmuring, and I can hardly hear it any more over Edward's soft moans and the rushing of my own blood.

We are both panting when he stops and leans back to look at me, that special signature crease between his brows. His cheeks and part of his neck are a little flushed with excitement... it's endearing. I want to kiss those pink areas of skin, feel the heat radiating from them on my lips. But his eyes bore into mine, asking me to wait.

He blinks a few times and takes a deep breath. "So your husband... what went wrong? Why didn't he make love to you?"

Oh... ok. Questions. Answers. Talk. And yeah... telling him about my fucked-up marriage will be quite helpful to make his erection go away, I suppose. I prop myself up on my elbow and look down to where his hand is still stroking my thigh.

"I just wasn't what he needed," I answer.

"Was he mean to you?"

"No, not deliberately."

"But he hurt you." It doesn't sound like a question any more.

"It just hurt to know that I couldn't be what he needed. Ever. It hurt that he didn't want me. It was not his fault though. So we both decided to end this marriage; it just didn't work."

"If he didn't want you, why did he marry you in the first place?"

"We were friends before, and I guess he thought it would work out. We're still friends, I think. He is living with someone else now." I try to remember if Edward and Jacob ever met. "Maybe you remember him? Jacob Black?"

"No." His answer comes immediately; with his infallible memory, he doesn't even need to think about it. "So you sent Jacob away because he didn't want you?"

"No, like I said, we both agreed...," I falter, feeling angry all of a sudden. I realize I'm still trying to protect Jacob after all this time, still trying to fulfill the only purpose our marriage ever was to him.

We both agreed, my ass!

"Actually, he stayed with me for whatever reason until he found someone he truly wanted, and then he left me." That's more like it. It feels good to finally admit it to myself.

"So he is an asshole," Edward states, simple as that. I laugh out loud, but he doesn't join in. "Why are you still friends with him?"

Always straight to the point, right? "Well..." I'm at a loss for a moment.

"And we? Are we 'friends', too?" he asks, and his hand on my thigh stills. I don't get a chance to even think about an answer. "He didn't want you, but I do. And you are everything I need. Bella, you are the... the only..."

His brows knit together as he struggles for words, and I'm getting a little anxious about the direction our conversation is taking once more. I don't want to hurt him again; I don't want to see him like that again. Ever. But I won't lie to him either. I just need to be more careful this time.

And as I'm inwardly preparing for another L-word discussion, being oh so reasonable and sensitive at wording my arguments in advance, Little Green finally finds what he's been looking for. He finds it and says it... and totally steals my thunder. Because there is a truth in his words, so simple and pristine, the air between us seems to vibrate with it. It is a truth that defies explanation and eludes doubt altogether...

"Of all the people in this world, you are my person!"

Little Green & Easybella Chapter 8

2011-06-20T05:23:00.001-07:00

(EDWARD)

It hurts so bad I can hardly breathe. And there is this thing in my mind... it is whispering to me, tempting, demanding, promising even. It doesn't have a solid shape; it is wafting and drifting apart and once it has put itself together again, it looks like a capsule. But I know it is more like a casket. A ravenous thing that will swallow the love and the pain all together and drag it down and out of reach and into oblivion if I let it. A promise of peace. So easy... it would be so easy... and final.

I'm keeping the thing in balance. An oily-shining thing it is, a brand-new capsule from down there, pitch black both inside and out. Pitch black like the place deep down inside of me where it came from. That place... no trespassing. It crawled up from the bottom of my mind when the hurt set in and I made it stop mid-rise and I now I'm holding it there. The thing is hungry. It's making me sick.

The thing is hissing and whispering like a demon. 'Give up,' it says. 'Give her up; she's not worth the hurt... you can only take so much, and you know it... give her up, give her to me... I'll make it better... you're not carved out for this... let go... your mind is too weak, too fragile... for the sake of your sanity, give it to me... love is pain... I'll make it all go away... you'll be safe... don't fight me... I can help... give up...'

I want it to shut up, so I can listen to my own thoughts instead. Which is silly, because I know those are my own thoughts, too. They're just not what I want to think.

I'm undecided. It is an un-nerving condition, being undecided. I'm keeping that thing in balance, within reach, just in case... She just promised she won't send me away, and I think she means it, but just in case... You never know, right? They had send me away once and I don't even know if she missed me. Did she ask for me while I was gone? You never know... I need this thing.

I raise my head to look at Bella, but I can't hold her eyes and another rush of nausea makes me groan. I wasn't prepared for this, not prepared. Nothing could have possibly prepared me for this. For the power she has over me, the things she can do to me. Maybe I should have known, but I know nothing. So many questions...

I need to calm down. I need to breathe. I need her eyes but I cannot find them. I want her eyes back. She's already half lost to me; can't she see that? I want her back. I need to tell her to come back right now. Right. Now.

"Please don't leave me."

I feel so sick and weak, even my voice doesn't work. Did she hear me? Should I try again? It is like one of those nightmares when it is a matter of life and death that you speak, and you open your mouth and you try so hard, but nothing comes out until it is too late.

She takes me in her arms as if she just got me, as if she knows, and oh... maybe she does! She says she won't leave me, and that thing inside me is raging. Maybe she means it. What if she doesn't? What if she does? I'm scared and undecided, but that's the point. Being undecided is the beginning of insanity. I need to make a decision. Like Esme did when she took me home. Knowing I might never love her back, knowing how damaged I am, knowing I would bring her pain and trouble... she decided to love me nonetheless. That's what she did, right?

Knowing that I have to decide, I decide easily. I choose the hurt. Loving Bella is worth bearing it. I realize that not loving Bella is just no option. If she doesn't leave me, like she promised, it will be worth all the pain in the world. And even if she'd leave, I'd still be loving her.

The thing wails and screeches, as I force it away with all I have. My body is shaking with the effort my mind makes to let go of its false promises. And then...

It.

Just.

Stops.

And the thing is gone.

I'm still scared. And I still love her. I'm scared because I love her. But I've decided.

"Ok," I say, as if that's all there is to know. But I know nothing. And the not-knowing is deafeningly loud in my head. "I have more questions."

… why does it hurt did you love your husband where is he now did you send him away were you sad when they took me away did you miss me do you love someone else now did I hurt you there in the kitchen do you notice I cannot look at you do you know why can you help me understand are you afraid do you think I'm being difficult do you want me to try harder do I embarrass you are you sad that you don't love me how come I still think you do how do you care for me will you let me make love to you again...?

So many more...

FORKS, JULY 2004:

"I'm so glad you're here," Esme stage-whispered as she ushered the girl in and closed the front door behind her. "Are you nervous? You don't need to be... ah, look who's talking. I'm nervous as hell." She smiled wryly at her guest.

After introducing eight different nannies to Edward, each of them highly-qualified and trained to work with special kids like him, Isabella Swan, high school junior, underage, underweight and so uncoordinated that she would probably kill herself by accident before she reached legal age, was the best candidate for the job. Well, she was the only candidate. Edward had made sure she was.

"I'm not nervous at all, Mrs. Cullen."

"Oh good..." Esme was actually relieved. Edward would probably notice if Bella was uncomfortable in any way and get anxious. He had given her his special version of the stink-eye all morning because she'd been so excited. "This is just a test today anyway," she continued. "You two had a great connection this once in the parking lot but I just want to make sure it'll be here to stay, ok?"

"Ok." Bella nodded earnestly.

"Just don't be upset if it's gone, Bella. You never know with Edward."

"I understand, Mrs. Cullen."

"Well, then... he doesn't speak, but he is very intelligent and understands everything, so it is important to speak to him even though he doesn't answer. Just act normal. But oh... I think you should not try to touch him this time. Maybe better wait until he -"

"Darling, you're making the girl nervous," a male voice interrupted Esme's instructions, and Bella was actually grateful to be saved by Dr. Carlisle Cullen. She had heard everything before; Esme had been very thorough the last time. Plus, Bella had a little crush on the good doctor who was extraordinarily handsome and charming. However, it wasn't true that she deliberately tried to injure herself on a regular basis just to get stitched together by his gentle hands, like her best friend Angela used to tease her. Bella Swan wasn't that crazy.

"Hi, Dr. Cullen," she greeted him cheerfully.

"Isabella," Carlisle smiled at her warmly. "How's your wrist?"

"As good as new."

"Glad to hear that. I really hope you're not planning on shedding any blood in our household, especially not your own or Edward's." The stern look that replaced his smile caught Bella off-guard and she opened and shut her mouth twice in an attempt to phrase a proper answer, before Carlisle suddenly smirked again. "I'm kidding, Isabella, relax. I'm really glad you're here. Thank you for coming."

"Oh...," Bella clutched her heart and giggled nervously, "thank God. I'm glad to be here, too."

"So this is the big moment, hm?" Carlise said and exhaled a long breath. He laid one arm around his wife and gently pulled her close. "Actually, Esme and I had agreed not give too many instructions. I assume you know we tried to introduce several nannies to Edward?"

When Bella nodded, it was Esme who continued, "Well, we really don't know why he was able to connect to you so easily, but we have a theory, sort of." She looked at her husband who gave her waist a little encouraging squeeze. Then she said, "Bella, something very special we cannot explain happened between you and Edward. But we also think it might have helped that neither of you were expecting anything, you know?"

"And that you, my dear, weren't expecting anything either," Carlisle reminded his wife. Then he turned towards Bella again. "We both believe Edward is capable of sensing our expectations, hopes, disappointment... and that's stressing him out. With each new try, we prepared the hell out of both the nanny and Edward to make sure their first meeting would go smoothly, but well.. I think we just put too much pressure on it. Maybe he doesn't need an expert for special kids; maybe he just needs a friend."

Carlisle paused to let his words sink in. He knew that, despite her young age and still childlike exterior, Isabella Swan was a very mature and responsible person, and that she would understand the significance of what he told her. "You are the only person, apart from my wife, who Edward ever tolerated touching him."

"Really? Just you and Mrs. Cullen but no one else... and now me?" Bella asked, incredulously wondering what could be so special about her.

"No, Isabella," Carlisle corrected, and a sad smile briefly crossed his face. "Just his mom, and now you. I haven't had that privilege yet."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Cullen," the girl whispered, really grasping the weight of what he told her for the first time.

"When you and he met, you both were completely unprepared, Isabella. No pressure, no expectations. He didn't even know you'd be there. We decided to keep it that way."

"You didn't tell him I'd come here today?"

"No," Esme confirmed. "As far as Edward is concerned, you're a surprise visitor. He is outside on the patio, and if you don't mind, we'd like for you to just go to him and say hi, and whatever will happen will happen. We'll be just watching from a distance. We'll be with you in a heartbeat if anything should go wrong, of course."

Bella looked from Esme's eyes to Carlisle's and back. She couldn't quite understand their worries, as she remembered the boy had been nothing but adorable and sweet like a lamb when she met him. But she could see suppressed hope and anxiety in both their faces, and for the first time in her life she felt significant. Dr. and Mrs. Cullen trusted her to be the one – and the only one at that - who could make their son's life better, and she was eager to prove she was worth it.

"Ok, I'm ready, so... let's give it a try?"

"My wife will show you the way," Carlisle said quietly, "I'd better stay back. Thank you so much for doing this."

"No prob, Dr. Cullen. I really like Edward." Bella chimed. And seeing the handsome doctor smile and playfully pointing a pistol finger at her as if they were old buddies, she felt like she'd already achieved something really good.

Esme couldn't keep herself from wringing her hands as she guided Bella through the generous living room and towards the big glass sliding doors that lead to the patio. She bit her tongue to not give some whispered last-minute instructions. Even though she had witnessed the parking lot miracle first hand, she wasn't quite as calm and trusting as her husband, because she had also been the one dealing with Edward's anxiety attacks that had ended each of the previous 'tests'.

But still... the almost painful feeling of hope she just couldn't keep in check grew, as she watched Bella now. Totally oblivious of the luxury around her, the skinny girl quickened her pace as soon as she caught sight of Edward. When they stepped outside, Esme had to take a little jump in order to catch up and get her hands on Bella's shoulders to make her stop.

Bella took in the boy who was sitting on an upholstered garden swing, head bent and eyes cast down. He was as pretty as she remembered. Like she had the first time, she immediately noticed his long lashes which were wet and spiky now, just like his hair. And he only had on swim trunks and a hoodie. No shoes. There has to be a pool somewhere around the house, she thought.

Edward had one leg pulled up under him, and his eyes were trained on the open book he was balancing on his knee. His other leg that was barely long enough to make his big toe touch the ground gave a steady momentum to the swing. There was no way he could have not noticed his visitors' presence, and though Edward gave no outward sign that he had, Bella suspected he was just pretending to be that absorbed in his reading.

Esme took a deep breath and put a smile on her face before she said softly, "Edward, sweetie, look who is here. Do you remember Isabella?"

Without averting her gaze from Edward, the girl whispered over her shoulder, "Just Bella." But Esme quietly shushed her, rubbing Bella's shoulders in a silent apology. "Isabella has come all the way to say hi to you. Do you want her to say hi to you, darling?"

There was no visible reaction from Edward. Bella decided to take Esme's last words as her cue and just do it. "Hi, Edward!" she practically hollered.

Esme winced and held her breath, and even Carlisle, who was watching from the opposite side of the living room, involuntarily took a step forward and pulled his hands out of his trouser pockets.

Edward's head had jerked up at the sound of Bella's voice; he was now looking at her, motionless, and his expression was impossible to read. Without the drive of his leg, the swinging died down quickly. When it stopped, Edward stood and the book fell to the patio with a loud thud. He didn't even blink at the noise but started to walk towards Bella as soon as his bare feet touched the ground.

"Oh my God..." Esme breathed. Tentatively, she released Bella's shoulders and took a step back.

When he stood before Bella, Edward reached out for her left hand and examined it intently. She knew at once what this was about. "You remember me, right? I'm B... Isabella." Just like he had done in the car, Edward circled the back of her hand with his thumbs. "It's gone for good," she assured him, "Told you, you did a good job, didn't I?"

Edward took a small, shuffling step closer to her and closed his eyes. When he slowly leaned forward and Bella bent in her knees, just enough to allow him to rest his forehead against hers, Esme covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her sob.