Stephenie Meyer will always own Twilight.

"That's eight," I tell him, huffing and puffing, because Edward doesn't give me any breaks just because I'm his girl.

He tsks me, then steals the ball. He jumps, shoots, and scores. "Eight."

I narrow my eyes. A whistle blows three times behind me. Edward grins and tucks the ball under his arm.

"Time to go, Edward," Mom says from the porch. "We're on a strict schedule if you're still planning to pick Bella up at 5:00."

Edward nods and tosses the ball to me. "Thanks, Renee." He walks over and rests his hands on my hips while I hold the ball between our chests. "I'll see you in a few hours." He leans forward to brush his lips over mine, sweat be damned.

"Okay."

We watch him until his car disappears at the corner, then Mom glances at her watch. "Tick tock," she says. "Shower. Now."

I catch a whiff of myself and agree. "Okay, okay. I'm going."

Herbal Essence and hot water wash away the dirt and sweat from my time with Edward. I brush my teeth in the shower and shave everything applicable, just in case.

I'm not really spending the night with Jessica after the dance later, and I'm pretty sure Mom knows it, but we've had the talk more times than I care to admit, so she trusts me.

Not that tonight is for sure going to be the night, but if I have my way, it will be. Edward keeps throwing around the words "too soon." I disagree wholeheartedly.

Either way, I'm spending the night with him, so something's going to happen. Bases will be crossed.

I towel my hair as dry as possible, dry my skin, and spray a light dusting of Baby Soft across my chest before exiting the bathroom in nothing but underwear and a robe. Mom's waiting on my bed, surrounded by an array of hair products and makeup. "Curlers first," she says, pointing to the chair in front of the vanity across the room.

I sit and pick up an old issue of Seventeen to pass the time as she tugs, pulls, and wraps my hair in plastic rollers. She makes small talk around the bobby pins between her teeth.

"Do you know where Edward's taking you for dinner?" she asks.

"No clue," I say. "He said we're going to Port Angeles. That's all I know."

"That's sweet."

I look up and smile at her reflection in the mirror. "He's…" I shrug eventually, because I don't know how to explain it. Hot and smug and sweet and obsessed with me sounds crazy, but it's true.

She smiles again. "Ah. Young love." She clips the last roller in place and drops her hands to my shoulders. "Press-on or polished?"

"Polished."

We decide on a deep, cranberry-tinted red. It looks good next to the dress I picked out with Jessica and Alice almost a month ago. Mom painstakingly paints each nail, waits for them to dry, and repeats the process. I stay in the robe until it's time to do my hair. She blow dries my head for a solid ten minutes to be sure, then sprays a light round of Aqua Net to hold the curls.

"Okay," she says, holding up the dress. "Be careful." She maneuvers it over my head and down my body without knocking a single roller out of place.

I grimace a few times as she works her magic. She uses a round brush to raise my bangs and style them back from my face, high but straight and pulled back. She twists the curled strands into a loose half bun and reuses the bobby pins to hold it in place. Once the top is finished, she uses her fingers to comb through the rest of my hair and sprays the large, loose curls with another and heavier layer of hairspray.

It takes the full five hours she'd scheduled, and the doorbell rings downstairs as I'm stepping into the black lace-up velvet heels Mom found at the mall in Port Angeles. I stand perfectly still while she crisscrosses the satin laces and ties them just behind my knees.

Mom's eyes water. "Wait!" She rushes over to the Caboodle on the bed, digs around in the contents, and holds up eyeliner and a tube of mascara. The liner is pitch black, but the mascara has tints of deep blue that match the midnight hues of my skirt. "Perfect," she says when she's done applying it. "Mr. Forks High isn't going to know what hit him."

I sling my backpack over my shoulder and exhale. "Okay. Let's go."

She leads the way downstairs, but I stay close in case I go down in these heels. I've got Chuck Taylors packed for the moment we're finished with pictures. Dad's wearing that stupid whistle around his neck and casually holding a beer as he chats with Edward about a fish he caught last week on the res. He stops mid-sentence, and both of them stare at me.

Edward recovers first. "You look beautiful, Swan."

Mom and I grin from ear to ear.

Dad coughs and toys with the whistle. "Wow," he says. "You look so grown up."

"Thanks, Dad."

Edward takes a step forward and shoves a clear, plastic box between us. "I got this for you," he says. The black suit he's wearing is fitted, and the crisp white dress shirt is a stark contrast to his shiny midnight blue tie. It matches my dress and the ribbon on the corsage he's holding.

"It's lovely," Mom says. She reaches for the boutonniere she picked up this morning and hands it over.

"It really is perfect," I say, leaning in close to whisper the words against Edward's ear as he slides the elastic band over my hand and onto my wrist. I lean forward and kiss his cheek. "Thank you."

He swallows and stares at my lips. "You're welcome."

"Don't make me blow this whistle, kids." Dad shakes his head and settles on the couch with the remote.

The rest of us laugh while I pin the matching white rose on Edward's jacket. Dad got the whistle because Edward and I have a bad habit of getting… physical when we play. He blows that silly thing every time we get too handsy or drop the ball entirely to make out behind the shed.

Neither of us is fond of the whistle.

"Ready?" Edward asks.

I nod, but Mom holds up a hand. "Wait! I need to get pictures. I promised Beth I'd have copies made for her, too."

Edward slips his arm around my waist and pulls me close. After a few flashes of light, he turns me and steps up behind me for a fresh pose. We grin and lock fingers, and even now it's a little bit hard to believe this is really real.

Edward Masen is my boyfriend. And my friend friend. And we're going to the Snowflake Ball together.

And then to UW next year on matching scholarships.

Beth is thrilled. Mom's thrilled. Dad wears that silly whistle every time Edward comes over, but he likes him well enough. Edward watches games with us on the few nights a week Dad's home for dinner. Other nights, we study together at his house while his mom reads or writes by the fire.

We both have outdoor hoops, but Edward's got an indoor arcade-style double hoop basketball game. We spend as much time working it as we do each other. Edward's mom doesn't have a whistle. Beth writes excellent bestselling bodice-rippers, spends most of her time barefoot, and lets Edward do his own thing as long as he stays out of trouble.

She flew to Anchorage for a book signing this morning and won't be back until Monday.

"There," Mom says. "I used the whole roll of film. You two have a good time."

"Be careful," Dad adds, waving us out the door.

Edward pauses at the Volvo, steps forward, and traces my jaw with his finger. "You look so pretty, Bella." He tilts my face to kiss me sweetly on the lips, with gentle pecks and a hint of tongue.

I sigh when he shifts his attention to my neck. "So do you."

I feel his smile on my skin. "We have to go," he says. "Our reservations are for 6:00."

"Where?"

"Nope," he says, shaking his head and moving to open the passenger door of his car for me. "Nice try, though."

He drives to the city limit and keeps going toward Port Angeles. He slows a few miles shy of the halfway mark and turns onto a dirt drive between two cast iron posts with lit lanterns swinging in the breeze.

A cozy bed and breakfast glows warm in the distance up a winding tree-covered hill. "Oh! I'd forgotten about the restaurant they added," I say, leaning forward in my seat to take in the view.

Edward smiles. "I've never been, but Mom likes to bring visitors here, so it must be good."

He parks at the rear of the building and comes around to help me out of the car. The small, attached restaurant has a separate entrance. He holds open the door and ushers me inside by sliding his arm around my waist.

A hostess greets us at the entrance.

"Masen," Edward says, tightening his grip on my hip. "Two."

She leads us to corner table next to a large window that looks out over the river. It's somehow the fanciest and also the most simple date I've ever been on. There's candlelight and gourmet food, but Edward talks about my last game and his last game and all the games we'll be benched for in Seattle at UW next year.

I'm almost sad to leave our little bubble to head for the dance, but we didn't get all dressed up for nothing.

Emmett and Rosalie are the first people we run into in the parking lot at Forks High. Edward set them up at her request, so of course he has to gloat about how both of them owe him. Emmett pays up by flipping him the bird. Edwards laughs it off, and we all walk to the gym together.

There's already a line for pictures, but I steer Edward over to it, anyway. "Pictures first while my hair still looks this good and so I can change shoes. These heels are killing me."

He glances at my feet and then at his Jordans. He leans in to kiss my temple and tickle my skin with his nose. There are two photographers, so the line goes quickly. Alice and Jessica show up while we're posing.

"Bella!"

I stay focused on the camera and the feel of Edward's chest under my palms. "On three, okay?" the photographer says. "One… two… smile!" The flash blinds us for a moment.

Then Edward guides me away from the backdrop and over to our friends. Alice helps me with my shoe situation and then hides my backpack behind the bleachers.

Mike pulls a flask from his jacket and tips something clear and strong into his punch and Jessica's when she holds up her cup. She shrugs. "Tyler's driving."

Emmett and Rosalie are center court, dancing the night away. I balk when Edward tries to pull me in their direction.

"I can't dance," I say.

Edward shrugs. "Neither can I."

I laugh and follow him out onto the floor. We're both as terrible as we claim to be, but it's the most fun I've had since I made him roller skate with me a few weeks ago. And just like then, every time a slow song plays, he pulls me into his arms to hold me close.

"Do you think we'd still be here if Jasper hadn't locked his keys in his car and stolen Alice's slam book that morning?" I ask.

He hugs me a little tighter. "I think so. I tried asking you all week, but fucking Jasper kept screwing me up. Then there was the lip gloss. Jesus. That would've made anyone chicken out. But Eric had already asked you, and I knew some junior named Marcus was trying to get his nerve up, so I was determined to ask you at the party and beat him to it."

"And you thought a nice, romantic dry hump would seal the deal?" I laugh.

"You weren't the only one overwhelmed, Swan." He leans down to kiss my shoulder.

I swallow. "Two more songs," I say.

He nods and moves us closer to the edge of the dancefloor. Of course, it's never that easy. Jasper catches us on the way to the bathroom and asks if we've seen Maria. I check the girls' room for him but come up empty.

She finally sticks her head out of the gym, with strains of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" bleeding from the speakers behind her. "This is my song, babe," she calls to Jasper.

He shakes his head and slaps Edward's shoulder on his way by. "Guess she beat me back," he says.

We run into Alice and Jessica at the exit closest to the parking lot. "Diner. 9:00 am," Jessica says. "You know I can't lie to Charlie, so don't be late."

"We won't," I say, hugging her first, then Alice. "See you then."

Alice really is spending the night at Jessica's. Neither of them wanted a sleepover with their dates. Not that I blame them.

Edward holds the door open for me and takes my hand for the walk to his car. "That was fun," he says. "Thanks for being my date."

"It was," I agree. "I'm glad you asked."

He fumbles in his pocket for his keys and unlocks my door. I inhale during the brief moment our chests touch, letting the mix of his skin and cologne invade my senses. Always the gentleman, he helps me into the car.

I unlock his door from the inside and toss my backpack in the backseat.

My stomach does a little flip when he slides into the seat next to me and closes his door, sealing off the rest of the world. He grins, starts the car, and lets his fingers brush my thigh when he shifts into reverse. Before I have time to react, his hand is gone and clutching the back of my headrest.

Edward turns in his seat, craning to check for cars before backing out. His neck and jaw are a breath away from my lips, so I lean forward and press a kiss where they meet beneath his ear.

The car jerks.

"Maybe not a good idea while I'm driving," he says. "I can't handle that kind of distraction."

"Sorry," I say, with a little grin to match his.

I'm not sorry at all, but I behave for the rest of the trip to his house. It's off the highway, buried in the forest, and as isolated as it gets. The glass wall shimmers in the moonlight until the harsh reflection of Edward's headlights gets close enough to ruin the view. Fat rain drops hit the windshield, but he hits the button on a remote and eases his Volvo into the garage.

My imagination runs wild for a second of all the different places this could go down: on the floor, the piano bench, here in the car…

Edward cuts the engine and grabs my bag from the backseat. I sit and chew the inside of my cheek, then open my door, get out on my own, and meet him at the front of the car.

"You okay?" he asks, slipping his palm against mine and entwining our fingers.

"I'm good," I say.

He unlocks the door to the mud room, and we toe off our shoes at the door. Edward tries to hang my backpack next to his on the coat rack, but I put a hand on his arm to stop him. "Do you want to change?" he asks. "We could watch a movie, or…"

I step into his personal space, and our chests touch the way they did earlier on the dance floor. He swallows, and the warmth of his palm spreads at my lower back. "Or?" I ask.

"Are you hungry?" he looks away and points in the general direction of the kitchen. "We have food."

"Edward," I say.

He grins. "I didn't bring you here to steal your virtue."

"I'm practically throwing it at you."

"We've only been together a few weeks," he says. "It doesn't have to be now." He hugs me closer and plants his lips on my neck. "It doesn't have to be tonight." His breath tickles the skin beneath my ear.

"Can I show you something?" I ask.

"Of course." He takes a step back and slips his hands from my waist to his pockets. I grip the backpack strap a little tighter and follow him into the great room. Vintage black leather sofas face each other on either side of the fireplace. Edward chooses a couch and looks surprised when I take a seat on the sofa across from him. I set my backpack on the glass table between us and unzip it.

Edward leans forward in his seat, clasping his hands together loosely at his knees. He watches me pull a handful of spiral notebooks from my bag and spread them across the table. I pick up a pink one with faded yellow highlighter on the cover. '85.

I hold it out to him. He opens it and glances at the sign-in page. I had a 4-Color retractable ballpoint pen that year, so the letters of my first and last name alternate black, blue, green, and red. All of my answers do, too.

It's annoying now, but it was cool or something back then.

"Turn to the dog-eared page," I say.

He looks up at me, opens his mouth but changes his mind, and finally turns to the page I marked last night.

Who do you like?

13. EAM

"I have proof in rainbow ink that there's nothing 'too soon' about this," I say. It's my turn to swallow, inhale, and stand. I walk around the table, and he sits up straight, opens his legs, and lets me step between them.

His fingers trail up my thighs and under my dress. He stops just below my butt cheeks, and it's hard not to sag in disappointment, but then he leans forward and runs his lips over the fabric of my dress. One of his hands eases from back to front, and without a word, he changes his mind and reaches up to pull down the hem of my hose.

I get a quick fist pump in behind his head as he eases them down my legs. He tosses them across the room when I'm free.

He sits back on his heels and shakes his head. "This is all wrong," he says. My eyes narrow, and he smiles again. "We should go to my room. This is going to take a while."

I smile and lean over to kiss him. "Now that is what I'm talking about, Masen." He laughs against my lips between pecks. I pull him up and onto his feet. "Which way?" I ask.

He lifts my hand into the air and spins me. Then he wraps his arms around me from behind and walks me forward. At the hall, he pauses and whispers in my ear. "You're sure, right? I mean, I can handle waiting, but I can't handle you regretting this or freaking out about it later. That wasn't fun, after Emmett's party."

I turn in his arms and put my hands on his chest. "I'm sure," I tell him with a shrug. "Now I know you like me."

He shakes his head. "I don't know how you couldn't tell." He kisses me again. "I've been to every game you've ever played in, Swan," he says against my cheek. "I'm your biggest fan."

"Okay. Where's your room?" I ask, half joking and half ready to drag him to it.

Edward takes my hand, and we walk together to the last door on the right. He tilts his head at it. "This one," he says.

I open the door, step over the threshold, and gasp. The opposite wall is made completely of glass, and the moon is bright in the distance. It lights the forest behind the house and leaves Edward's bed shadowed against the other wall.

I keep walking until I can rest my palms on the cool glass. "That's a heck of a view."

"It is," he says from behind me.

Once I've admired it long enough, I turn around to examine the rest of his room. There's a black entertainment cabinet across from the bed, but its doors are closed so I can't tell what's in it. There are built-in shelves on either side of it, and cassette tapes and LPs take up every inch of them. Edward has a lot of music.

There are trophies on a shelf in his closet, which is the only messy part of his room. He closes the door and grimaces. "I have laundry issues," he says, taking off his suit jacket and tossing it onto a chair in the corner. I watch his long, perfect fingers loosen the knot of his tie and gulp. He pulls it from his collar and unbuttons the top button of his dress shirt. The neckline of a plain white t-shirt peeks out. He catches me staring as he unfastens the buttons at his sleeves. "Bella?"

I close my mouth and take a step forward to help. My fingers tremble, but I want to see more of that t-shirt and what's under it, so I finish unbuttoning his shirt and pull it from his pants to push it off of his shoulders. He lets it fall to the ground, keeping his eyes on me instead.

I go for his belt next, and his eyes close. He exhales and reaches behind me. Cool air hits my back as he drags the zipper of my dress down, letting his knuckles tickle my skin as he goes. The dress falls forward, so I forget about Edward's pants long enough to step out of the dress.

His mouth drops open, and he stares. I'm down to a strapless black bra and matching underwear, while he's still mostly dressed. I kick my dress out of the way and pull at the hem of Edward's t-shirt. He helps me strip it off of him, and then he drops his pants and steps out of them, taking me with him and depositing both of us on the bed in a heap of limbs and skin. So much skin.

Our chests touch for real for the first time, and he traces a finger from my neck to the skin between my boobs. He keeps going, over the lacy material and down my stomach. "I want to kiss all of this." His finger stops at the hem of my panties but only for a second. Then he pulls them off, and I help as much as I can until I'm free. He goes for the clasp of my bra next, pulls it away, and tosses it over his shoulder.

I've been in his room less than two minutes, and I'm already naked. The only thing left is his boxers. He sits up on his knees between my parted legs and stares.

We had the talk, and he knows I'm on the pill. I know he's only been with one girl—someone he met at the community pool in his dad's neighborhood in Portland two summers ago. He was careful.

I trust him.

He moves over me and positions his weight on his forearm so he can kiss me without crushing me. We're skin to skin, and my nipples harden from the contact. They're not the only ones. Edward's ready to go. I can feel it on my leg.

I take a deep breath and exhale.

He pulls back to look at me. "Still okay?"

I nod and close my eyes when he lowers his mouth to my chest. I melt into the bed and block out everything else in the world but his tongue and teeth on my nipple. He waits until I'm squirming and panting to lick a path down my body.

My belly button gets a sweet peck, and the moment his tongue grazes my clit for the first time, he cups the back of my thighs and pushes until my legs are bent and my feet are flat on the bed.

At first, it's sweet, almost like a kiss. But then his fingertips blaze a trail down the back of my thigh and don't stop there. His tongue dips, and when he drags it upward, he pushes a finger into me. I gasp and lift my hips to meet his lips. He repeats the process and adds a second finger. My head pushes back onto the pillow, and my shoulders curl. His fingers speed as his flattened tongue presses against my clit. I grab the back of his head, and my thighs close, but he does it again. And again. Until I'm practically humping his face and seeing stars.

He waits until I've finished coming and calmed down some to ease his lips from my skin. "Fuck. Your thighs are even stronger than they look," he says with a satisfied grin. "I thought you were going to take my head off for a second."

I slap his chest and try to catch my breath. Before either of us has a chance to freak out or freeze up, he eases his boxers off and rolls on top of me. He uses his fingers to spread me open and rubs the head of his cock against the wetness before he pushes in and fills me.

My breath catches, and I sink my nails in his shoulders. He stalls, eyes closed and barely breathing.

"Edward?"

"Give me a second." His head drops to my neck, and he kisses the skin beneath my ear.

I shift and spread my legs wider to ease the sting. He slips deeper and moans. His lips move up to my lips, and his tongue slips into my mouth the same moment he pulls back. It takes a few awkward strokes for us to find a groove, but once we do, the discomfort ebbs and something else starts to build, low in my belly.

"Dammit," he says, stilling and burying his face in my neck as he comes. His cool breath fans my skin. "That wasn't supposed to happen so fast. It'll be better next time. I promise." He peppers kisses along my neck and chest.

I smile in the dark and nod. "I overwhelmed you."

"Yeah." He laughs, breathless and happy. "You did."

When I first sent this to my sister, she said I should totally call it "Not Another 80s Teen Movie." But you know what I hated about 80s teen movies? They always ended with just a kiss. I wanted the awkward teen sex. ;)

Thank you for welcoming me back into the fold and for reading and reviewing. Thanks to Iris, M, and Nic for making me finish this. I hope you've enjoyed it. There may be another futuretake eventually. Either way, I'll see y'all again.

MSC