You "Take me on (take on me)
I'll be gone
In a day or two
So needless to say
I'm odds and ends
But I'll be stumbling away
Slowly learning that life is okay
Say after me
It's no better to be safe than sorry."

Take me on ~ A-ha

Bella

Last night, the rhythmic swell of the Gulf of Mexico lapping at sugar-white sand stole me away, forcing me into a sleepy oblivion. That same rhythmic sound awakens me now from my relentless slumber. I awaken in an unfamiliar place. Pastel-printed seashell border lines the upper walls above white wicker furniture and framed, beach-themed art.

There's a pounding at the base of my skull that has nothing to do with the gently crashing tide. Rising in bed, I cringe as the pulsating pain obliterates the back of my head. One sleep-blurred glance around the unfamiliar room and I'm flooded with memories of the previous night.

Bar fights.

Slashed tires.

Alcohol.

Edward.

A satisfied smile curls its way onto my face. There's aches and pains throughout my body, the kind a girl feels when she's been thoroughly fucked. Memories of Edward sinking inside me assaults my mind, sending taunting tingles to the warm, wet place where he thrived last night. The intensity of his green-eyed gaze as he jutted his hips and thrust into me so deep sends a barrel full of butterflies fluttering inside my belly. I remember the gloating achievement I felt for fucking a man who owns the heart of a girl more beautiful than me. The remainder of the night after that is nothing but a drunken, hazy blur. I don't remember much after that, but I do remember the happiness.

My grandma once told me happiness is a bird. It perchs for a spell. It builds a home. Brings life into the world.

One day it flits away, but more return.

To me, happiness is more like the morning waves outside. It ebbs and flows in an endless rush. The waves are a sparkling seafoam blue during the day.

Those same waves are lost in the pitch-black sadness at night.

Life has always been that way for me. Surfing on a wave of euphoria one day. Floating inside a dark abyss on others.

Being with Edward last night made me feel like surfing. I woke up with that same surfer's heart. I'm nowhere near ready to float again.

Alice groans beside me. Her hair's a disrupted, raven mess, and, God bless her, she's still wearing her hearing aides. She rolls onto her back, blinks her dark, unfocused eyes, then drifts back to sleep. I lie back down, curling my arms and legs around hers like I did when we were little girls. The fragrance of her coconut-scented body assaults me, reminding me where we are and why we're here.

"Alice, wake up."

She groans again in her sleep, but otherwise makes no indication that she's anywhere near awake. I stare over the rise and fall of her breasts. Her tight little nipples strain against the worn cotton of her t-shirt, and her breath fans over me, smelling like last night's tequila. Outside the sliding glass doors leading to the balcony, the sun hangs in the sky, round and yellow-white like an exotic fruit, ripe and ready for the picking.

Wondering about the time, I pat the fluffy comforter all around me, searching for my phone and coming up empty-handed. Cringing from the pain of jolting up straight in bed, I grind my teeth and fumble around underneath the goose-down pillows. Still no phone.

Huh.

A surge of panic burns my chest, the kind of panic any teenage girl feels whenever we think our electronic lifeline has gone missing. A persistent vibrating sound momentarily alleviates my anxiety, but it's not my phone. It's Alice's cell, vibrating and shaking its way across the wooden nightstand beside our bed. My own cell number flashes across the screen, and in a rush of hot terror I know exactly why my name and number is popping up on Alice's phone.

I left my cell at Edward's.

Slivers of memories slowly return. I vaguely remember snapping his photo, and saving the image to my phone. Kate caught me and I followed her into the kitchen. I must have left my cell in his room, or maybe on the bar. Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I let the call go to voicemail, and worriedly wait to see if anyone leaves a voice message.

They don't.

Finding a guy like Edward my first night away from home was a pleasant surprise. He was warm, sweet, and eager. He made me wet and distracted me from the constant static in my life. But the distraction was meant to be just that.

A distraction.

Still, that bone-deep connection I felt each and every second we spent together wasn't a figment of my imagination. That connection was authentic, bottomless, and terrifying in its raw truth. That truth being that I've never connected to anyone the way I connected to Edward. The tense line of his shoulders, the sadness in his eyes, the yearning for something neither one of us understands, I knew it all. I felt it all. It was him, but it was also me.

We are one in the same.

Bile rises in the back of my throat. I'm not a dweller. I don't dwell. Thoughts or emotions always seem pointless to me. The only feelings I'm interested in are the instantaneous, gratifying kind. Life is a flowing, viscous thing. Meant to be lived in the moment without constantly worrying about the future or mulling over the past.

Alice's phone pings with a text message. My stomach curls in discomfort, but my heart pounds in erratic excitement.

Stupid, stupid heart.

Against my better judgement, I pick up the phone and read the missed text. And that stupid heart of mine? It stops. Completely stops before surging forward. The text he sends says only one word.

Kismet.

Someone laughs. The sound bursts forth from deep inside their soul and bounces off those ocean-blue stucco walls.

I clasp one hand over my mouth when I realize that laughing person is me.

"Oh, my God. Please go back to sleep." Alice buries her head under her pillow.

"Edward's texting your phone. I left my cell at his place."

Alice shoots up in bed, eyes wide and sleep forgotten. Cringing, she rubs her temples, trying to erase the lingering drunken pain I imagine she feels. Excitement dances in across her features. She draws her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around her skinny legs.

"Did he say anything about Jasper?"

Rolling my eyes, I hand over the phone and fall back against the bed.

"Kismet. Holy shit." Alice barks out in laughter. "This kid. He's got it bad."

Kid. My lips curl at the nickname I gave him. Kid. The nickname is ironic. He's nothing like a kid. If anything, he's a sad old man trapped inside the young, sun-kissed soul of a boy.

No, not a boy. A man. He's definitely a man. I felt at least eight inches of his manhood deliciously stretch me open last night.

"You gonna text him back?" Alice's question snaps me out of my reverie.

"At some point. I mean, I need my phone before we go home." An evil smiles works its way to my face. "I'll text him our last day."

"What? Why? He's cute. And from what I can remember, you thought so too."

"We're here for seven days. Ugh, six now. I don't want to squander all my time with some guy I just met." Even as I say it, I know I don't mean it. There's something different about this guy.

He lingers inside.

"Bella Swan, I think you really like this guy. And I think that scares the hell out of you."

"It was one night of casual sex. Means nothing." Apparently I'm still in the fifth grade by the way I roll my eyes.

"Edward doesn't agree. He thinks it's kismet." Alice cackles.

I hit her with a pillow, sending one of her hearing aides flying. "Get your ass ready and let's go get some breakfast." Looking at the time on her phone again, I groan. "Lunch."

After showering, meandering downstairs, and passing some of our fellow seniors passed out on various pieces of furniture, we hit up a local Waffle House. Drowning ourselves in waffles and syrup, neither one of us discuss Edward or Jasper again. In fact, I've almost forgotten about my sorrowful little soulmate until I step outside the restaurant and find him leaning against a shiny new truck. His brother sits in the driver's seat staring straight ahead at nothing. Occasionally he glances at Alice, but averts his eyes before making contact.

Alice and I exchange a look. We say with our eyes what we don't say with our lips.

How did they find us?

We both shrug and saunter over to the truck. Alice leans inside, kissing Jasper's cheek. His face transforms into a pretty shade of pink. He wipes Alice's kiss away, causing her to laugh. The sound of her giggles draws his gaze to meet hers. She threads her fingers through his mop of thick waves, and he bats her hand away in response. Amused, I lick my lips and wonder if there's such a thing as kismet after all.

Edward stares at me hesitantly as I approach, but the hesitation fades away once I reach him and wind my arms around his waist. Pressing my body flush against his, I listen to the way he inhales and exhales. He smells like the ocean. If I press my ear hard enough against his chest, I hear the whoosh of his heart.

It beats so fast.

"How'd you find me?"

"You're kidding, right? How many rusty-ass, antique trucks like yours with out of town plates do you think there are?"

"How many towns did you hit up before you found us in Panama City?" We're not far from Santa Nora, but he still had to put some time into finding us.

"A few." He slides my cell phone inside the back pocket of my shorts. "You didn't make it easy. You've been avoiding me."

"Yeah," I admit. No reason to lie.

"Why?"

"Why not?" Craning my head back a bit, I peer at him. There's a damn halo of light surrounding his head, blocking the sun. "You have a sort-of-maybe girlfriend, remember? And I'm leaving in a few days. What exactly do you want from me, Mr. Kismet?"

Edward's eyes look pained. He says nothing, choosing to bring my face back in place against his chest. I breathe in the tantalizing scent of his golden skin, and the aroma of his shower-dampened hair. We hold one another until we're no longer Bella and Edward. We are fused into one single being. Puzzle pieces connected, pasted, and framed. Jasper's rambling draws me from the serenity of our embrace.

"Apparently there's a three date rule before we have sex. That's what Edward and Kate said. And last night doesn't count because I didn't buy you a meal or take you out anywhere nice."

"Is that so?" Alice grins in amusement.

Jasper nods. "Yes. And Edward told me if I want to have sex with you I need to ask you on a proper date. Three times. But he never said we couldn't go on all three dates in one day." Jasper narrows his eyes in thought, still not looking at Alice. "Supper tonight. Breakfast and lunch tomorrow. That's my proposition. Do you accept?" He's still not looking.

"And then sex tomorrow night?" Alice raises an eyebrow. I muffle my laughter against Edward's chest.

"Yes. Unless it gets messy. Can we stop if it gets too messy?" Jasper finally makes eye contact. His face is a picture of pure panic.

Alice leans closer, and whispers in his ear. "Oh, I can assure you. If we have sex? It'll definitely be messy, but I promise you'll enjoy it."

"I don't know," he hedges, squeamish. "Edward says it's sticky."

"So sticky," I mumble.

Edward groans, stiffening against my belly. "Bella …" My name sounds like a warning.

"Shut up, you hypocrite. Three date rule my ass." I pinch his side.

"You're the exception," he grumbles.

Alice chuckles at us, but quickly becomes serious. "Jasper, I really like you, but—"

"There's always a 'but,'" Edward mutters.

"But," Alice continues a little louder. "I'm not a third date kind of girl. Not even a fourth or fifth date girl. Truth is, I'm not an easy lay, Jazz."

Edward's body grows rigid against mine, and I know what he's thinking. He's thinking about the two of us and last night. He's thinking my best friend low-key called me an easy lay. My only response is to briefly wrap my arms tighter around him, silently assuring him her words don't insult me. They don't degrade me or define who I am as a person. Edward and I are complete opposites in many ways, but so similar in the things that really matter. We both find different coping mechanisms to numb our pain. Running is his way.

Fucking him is now mine.

"We can still date and hang out while I'm in town," Alice says softly. "What are you doing tonight?"

While I listen to the others hash out the details of tonight, I remove my cell from my back pocket and scroll through the missed texts.

"You're a popular girl."

Humming noncommittally, I search for the one name, one number, one text I long for the most. But all the texts are from friends, some wondering where Alice and I stayed last night. Some chat about potential plans later today. None of them are from my mother. The truth is, she doesn't care if I drove hundreds of miles from home. Doesn't care if I made it safely or not. Doesn't care that I let a stranger thrust himself between my legs only hours after meeting him.

The truth is, she doesn't care about me at all.

Edward's voice beckons me to the present. "Are you cool with that?"

Shaking away the onslaught of thoughts, I say, "Cool with what?"

"With us coming over and hanging out at the beach house tonight." He stares at me, brow pinched, eyes exploring. His hands find their way into my back pockets. He gives my ass a little squeeze. Pleasure pools between my legs.

Pressing my belly against the hard planes of his body, I stand on tip-toes and give him a sweet kiss. Six days. I'll give myself six days of numbness. Six days of mindless sex. Six days to forget everything. He can do that, even if it's for a moment. So I'll use him for a few days, then toss him away, kismet be damned. Surely he knows that's all this is. And if not, who cares? Being near him deadens my mind more than any other outlet I've ever found.

Edward is my Lidocaine.