See how much more productive I am when it isn't spring break? I'm hoping to have another chapter done by tomorrow!

Bella's POV, btw, so if it sounds different….

Last time on De Anima…

"Do you want to come inside?"

BellaPOV

He hesitated.

In fact, he hesitated for so long that I thought he might refuse. It wouldn't be the first time that something he did confused me…

He took a step forward, just barely over the threshold and gave me a look that I'd seen on his face a hundred times before. It was the face that said, 'Are you sure about this?'

I hated that face.

And I hated it because he only ever did it when I tried to make the first move! It didn't matter what that first move was… When I wanted to go somewhere new, when I tried to tell him how I felt, when I tried to show him… And it was infuriating! Infuriating because when it came to everything else – books, music, travel destinations, theories on human nature, on life- he was also so cocksure.

And it was all his fault…

Because he said all of those wonderful things about needing me and wanting me and loving me… And then, all of a sudden, it was like he was scared of me. He kept his distance, he avoided the big subjects, he picked and chose his words so carefully that it made me want to grab him and shake him and yell at him, but most of all it made me want, so badly, just to love him.

I knew what came after infuriation; it was humiliation. I was coming awfully close to it, too. I nearly died after kissing the side of his neck at the beach a day ago. When it came to him, I just couldn't help myself. It was lewd of me to think of it, much, much too forward for Edward's gentlemanly attitude, but I hoped that if I could just get him inside, maybe I could get him upstairs, that maybe if I got him upstairs I could get him into my room, that if I got him into my room I could get him into my bed, if I could get him into my bed…

"Isabella?"

I blinked a few times, the green blur ahead of me focusing into trees. Edward was already meandering around my living room, shaking his head, when I noticed I was still standing with my hand on the doorknob staring blankly into space.

Could I be anymore awkward?

"S-sorry," I stammered.

I shut the door quickly and noticed he had moved to the fireplace.

Oh no… No... NO… NO!

I ran across the room, barely missing the coffee table.

"Nothing to see here," I said frantically, trying to grab the most offending picture frames off the mantle, "Do you want something to drink? Something to eat?"

"No, I think I like it right here," he said mercilessly, picking up a forgotten picture frame as I fumbled with the six that I clutched against my chest.

I groaned, tossing my armload into the couch behind me. They clattered loudly against each other, but it didn't drown out the sound of his soft laugh.

"Hmmm," he said, running a finger across the glass of the frame.

"Primary school," he said nodding to himself. "2nd grade?"

My cheeks colored, I didn't have to see them to know. I sighed, "First."

"First," he said smiling, fingering the picture frame and then holding it up to show me.

He pointed to my toothless smile, "You were adorable even then."

God, I want to kiss you.

"D-do you want something to drink?" I asked a second time, "Something to eat?"

I knew he would refuse, but I asked anyway, it seemed like the most polite thing to do… And if there was one thing that Edward usually was, it was polite. That was, of course, when he wasn't disappearing for days on end, showing up in my room in the middle of the night uninvited, or teasing me to the point of cruelty…

"No thank you, Isabella," he said, continuing his wordless assessment of the room, leaning forward to study a spectacularly bad picture of me in middle school.

He took his time looking at the remaining pictures on the mantle before deciding that he hadn't tortured me enough. He moved over to the couch, knowing that I was watching his every move. He had to know. I stared at him shamelessly now, all the time. He went silent every once in a while, staring off into space for long minutes, and I never tried to pull him out of it. The bronze of his hair, the golden-brown of his eyes, the angular set of his jaw, the smoldering intensity of just… him. How could I look away? I never wanted to look at anything else.

He looked down at the overturned picture frames on the couch and then back to me. He raised an eyebrow with a look that said,' Can I?'

I fought the urge to scream 'NO!', sure that it would offend him.

I forced a martyring smile, "You've already seen the worst of it, I guess. Go ahead…"

He winked at me.

Winked? Edward? At me?

Since when does Edward wink?

I watched him turn over the pictures one by one. He looked at them all, side by side, smiling the entire time. He took the third one from the right; the vibrant orange from within the frame told me it was Halloween. 9 years old. I was a pumpkin. He ran light fingertips around the borders of the picture, and closed his eyes for a second after staring intently at the image, as if he was trying to memorize it. He walked it back to the fireplace, putting it back exactly where it was before I performed my earlier smash-and-grab job. He repeated the action 4 more times, closing his eyes for a little longer each time. Watching him, I wanted to feel sad for some strange reason, but I couldn't will the emotion forward. He seemed too happy to be doing it, smiling brighter with each pass to the mantle, and I was too happy to see him this way. So there we were, watching each other, too happy, though I didn't quite know why.

He picked up the last picture, grinning, and before I knew what I was doing, I was grinning too.

"This is my favorite," he said, holding it up to show it to me.

It was the most recent, 3 months ago, my senior portrait.

I laughed, "But it's so recent…"

He shrugged, turning back to the mantle, clearing a space in the middle carefully. He put it back, so delicately, as if it might suddenly shatter. He faced me, still smiling, but there was something melancholic in his eyes.

"It's the only Bella that I know," he said, moving toward me, "I wish I could have known all of them…"

I breathed him in, he was just inches from me now, and my body responded accordingly, my heart was thumping wildly in my chest. I was sure he could hear it, it was ringing in my ears, but I didn't care. I wanted him to know how much I wanted him.

"You have me now…" I said, leaning into him.

"No," he said, sighing, "It is you that has me…All of me… Always."

He brushed cold fingertips along my neck, threading his hand into my hair, and I wanted to scream. Not because of the shock of his skin, but because I was so desperate to feel the ice of his touch everywhere and he was being much too careful. Every second he hesitated I knew he was asking for my permission. As if there was anything he could do, anything he could say, anything he could ask that I wouldn't agree to without a second thought. He stared at my mouth, as if transfixed, and ran a tentative thumb over my bottom lip. I practically purred, I wanted it so badly.

He smiled at me, playfully, and it was the first time I noticed that he was in an unnaturally good mood. I decided in that moment that a playful Edward made a happy Bella. I knew better than to miss an opportunity.

I launched myself into him, the resulting frustration of a week's chaste flirtation causing me to press my chest into his wantonly, my lips seeking his without permission. He tensed the moment that my mouth made contact with his, but his rigid posture melted the moment I moaned into his mouth. His lips were still tightly shut and I knew that I was testing some ridiculous concept of his virtue, but I couldn't care less. I wanted his tongue in my mouth and I wanted it now.

I licked him. I… Licked… Him! And his lips parted at the shock, surely to scold me for being so forward, but I grasped at the chance, doubling my efforts and grabbing the collar of his shirt. I ran feather-light touches against his bare skin and he withered just a little more. A moment of weakness and already he was chasing his discipline: He forced his hand away from my face, pressing his arms into his sides, though his lips continued to move against mine. I shook my head, pushing myself into his cold lips, grabbing his wrists. His breathy laugh was more of an aphrodisiac than the feel of his skin on mine, but I drew his arms around my waist anyway, encouraging him to have me in anyway that he wanted me. I moaned into his mouth again, knowing he liked it, knowing that I needed the upper hand.

It worked.

Before the ends of my breath, he gave himself over to me, to us, to this. The ice cold wetness of his mouth shocked me, but instead of moving back, I pressed myself forward, reveling in the way my body met the hard resistance of his despite the fact that he was pulling me into him too. He ran the tip of his tongue against the entire length of my bottom lip slowly, too slowly, and I decided that if he wanted games, then I wasn't going to be the one to fight fair. I pressed my chest into his, rubbing against him, knowing that he could feel just how dirty I was willing to play. He gasped first, his hands clenching the exposed skin just below the hem of my shirt, then he growled, his thumb slipping mischievously under the waistband of my jeans.

I gasped into his mouth, surprised and blissfully panicked at how willing he was to play this game. I moaned into his mouth again, when I felt his tongue press forcefully into mine and despite the cool reassurance of his touch, everything was hot… and wet.

"Bella!!"

The sound of a familiar voice shocked us apart and everything in me that was just consumed in lust was now burning with rage.

I'm going to kill him.

"Bella," he called out from the other side of the front door, "Are you home?"

"Of course you're home," he mumbled to himself, though I could clearly hear him, "Your truck is outside."

I could practically see him tossing his shoulders back the way he always did when he talked to himself. He knocked on the door again, louder this time, probably assuming I was upstairs in my room.

"Bells!" he called out, "Open up!"

I looked at Edward, amusedly noticing the wreck of hair on top of his head. If I looked even half as crazed, Jacob would assume that far more went on than what actually had.

I looked at Edward with wide-eyes, stifling a laugh, not knowing whether or not to answer the door. To be perfectly honest, I knew exactly what I'd rather be doing… And what I'd rather be doing was Edward…

I mouthed the question at him, but he wasn't looking at me, in fact, it was the first time I'd ever seen him looked slightly surprised.

I wanted to laugh, but his surprise quickly turned into a frown.

My frown matched his.

Apparently playtime was over.

Just as I was about to walk to the door to let Jacob in, Edward grabbed me at the wrist.

Playtime resumed? I thought hopefully.

"Who is that?" Edward asked in a rushed voice. His features looked more dark and brooding than they had in weeks, it shocked me a little.

"M-my friend, Jacob," I said, doing a poor job of masking my surprise," He was the first friend I made when I came to Forks, our Dad's are friends."

I found myself justifying myself automatically, though I knew I had no reason to.

"Well," I said a little too brightly, "Come meet him… He's curious about you."

I pulled Edward toward the door, noticing his reluctant steps. I squeezed his palm reassuringly, reaching for the knob with my other hand.

"You can't possibly be nervous," I said playfully, hoping to pull him out of his suddenly bad mood.

"No," he said darkly, "Not nervous…"

I pulled the door open, my face already set to give Jacob a warning look -Jake was a hugger and Edward was… Not – but I couldn't help but smile at his boyish smirk.

"Geez! What took so long, B---"

His characteristically upbeat greeting faded into silence as soon as he noticed that I wasn't the only one who answered the door. He looked at my face, then to Edward's, then to our clasped hands and he frowned. Frowned! I don't think I'd ever seen Jake frown before that moment. Everything was backward today. First, Edward and his curiously playful mood and now Jake with his instant frown, it was unnerving.

"Jake," I said slowly, give him a pointed 'don't screw this up' look, "This is Edward."

"Edward," I chirped gleefully, "This is Jacob."

"Hey, Man," Jacob offered, "What's up?"

"Nothing," Edward said warily, "How are you?"

"Good, Man. I'm good."

"Good."

It was tense. Which was okay. It wasn't hostile, thankfully, just tense. Edward seemed to relax just slightly the moment that Jacob began to speak, but I guess it was wishful thinking on my part to assume that they would automatically become friends.

Edward cleared his throat," I better get going, Isabella."

"What? Why?" I cut in, pulling him back when he moved toward the door," You just got here."

"I have plans," he said cryptically.

Plans? I thought to myself. He never had plans. Unless they were with The Cullens.

"Are you going to see A---"

"Yes," he interrupted me shortly.

"Sorry," he apologized almost immediately, running his thumb over the back of my hand," I … forgot."

He turned to the boy at the door, who was trying obviously not to be too intrusive," Besides, Jacob here will keep you company…"

"Sure," Jake answered easily, shrugging his shoulders and sauntering into the house.

He went straight to the kitchen, the way he always did. It was a small miracle that he didn't eat us out of house and home. The moment he disappeared behind the corner, I turned back to Edward, speaking in hushed tones.

"You don't have to leave," I whispered, "I can get rid of Jacob if you feel like continuing what we were doing before…"

I gave him my best attempt at a suggestive look before reaching up, eager to have his lips back on mine. He pulled away, pressing a kiss to my temple.

"Bella…" he warned.

"Ugh! Fine!" I said, letting go of his hands, "Go hang out with, Alice."

He smiled at me," I'll see you on Monday."

"Monday?!" I complained," That's three days from now!"

He nodded at me, his arrogant smirk showing his obvious pleasure at my irritation at being without him for so long.

"Yes, Bella… Monday."

"I wouldn't complain if you snuck into my room now," I said hopefully," I mean…if you're not scared."

Another pointed look from him, another mysterious silence.

"I'll see you...soon."

My heart leapt at the possibility, "Really? Like, tonight soon? Or …"

"Soon," he said cryptically.

I cringed, both at the non-committal nature of his answer and the sound of Jacob dropping something in the kitchen.

"Sorry!" he called out from the other room," Spaghetti sauce. I've got it though, Bells!"

"Where are those paper towels?" I heard him mutter to himself.

I sighed," I better go take care of that."

He gave me an understanding look, "Of course."

"Soon?" I questioned again, trying to prolong his presence for just a few seconds more.

"Soon," he affirmed.

"Tell Alice I said 'Hi'," I said dejectedly.

"I will."

"Bye," I sighed.

He looked at me with such an obvious longing, one that I'm sure I mirrored, that I wanted to ask him again – beg him – to stay, but he was already turning to leave as my mind began to formulate the words. I closed the door behind him as he walked down my driveway, knowing that no matter how many times I offered, he'd never let me drive him to The Cullens'. He seemed to like walking.

I pressed my back against the door, closing my eyes for just a second, running my fingertips across my lips, quickly frustrated with their warmth. It just wasn't the same, I decided, walking to the kitchen. They just weren't smooth enough, weren't cold enough, weren't…. Edward enough.

. . . . .

"What's the damage?" I asked, eyeing the remnants of the glass jar on the floor.

"How much does…" he trailed off, picking a piece of glass out of the top of the garbage can, holding it near his face between his thumb and forefinger, "… Prego cost?"

"A million dollars!" I challenged, reaching for a fresh roll of paper towels in the pantry.

I whipped around to throw it at him, but he looked too guilty.

"A buck eighty-nine," I admitted, unrolling the scratchy material around my hand.

"But you have to clean it up," I said, tossing the handful at him, "I'll get the Pine-Sol."

"Sorry, Bells," he said smiling, "I was trying to get to the…"

"…Peanut butter," I finished, "It's always the peanut butter."

"You know me too well," he chirped, grabbing the broom out of the pantry.

He went to work, gathering up the glass into a pile, sweeping all around the kitchen, careful not to miss any stray pieces of glass.

"Sooooo…." he chanced, pretending not to be casual, though I knew him better than that, he only just admitted it, "Edward, huh?"

"Yes, Jake," I groaned, already feeling flushed, "I told you about Edward."

"Yes," he said, sweeping the glass into a dustpan, "You did. But you didn't tell me much…"

"That's because I don't know much," I admitted, hopping onto the counter next to the sink, "He's not from around here. He knows the Cullens, I guess? Old family friends."

Jacob's hand stalled mid-sweep, his knuckles turning white as they tightened around the broom handle.

"I thought he looked…."

"What?" I asked, not liking the way Jacob's voice suddenly turned accusatory, "Looked what?"

"Looked like…them."

"I don't think they're related, Jake."

He didn't respond, his knuckles only turned whiter against the russet of his skin.

"What?" I asked again, "Is there something wrong with the Cullens?"

"Depends on what you think is wrong," he said haughtily.

I dragged my hands over the counter top at my sides, biting at the corner of my lip, waiting for him to continue.

"I'm going to need more than that…" I said impatiently, growing more irked at his continued silence.

"Nothing," he said abruptly, "It's stupid."

"Just spit it out, Jake, What's your problem with The Cullens?"

"It's not that I have a problem with them," he said finally, "It's just that they're…"

He trailed off again, turning away from me to toss the last of the glass into the garbage. He turned back toward me, freeing his hands as he put the broom back into the pantry. He sat on the countertop next to me, not having to jump the way that I did. It was one of the many advantages of being over 6 feet tall.

"It's not that I think they're bad, Bella. Just… different."

"How so?" I asked, knowing that the quicker I got it out of him, the less likely he was to edit.

"It's stupid."

"Jake…"

He groaned, turning toward me," It's just an old Quileute legend."

"About The Cullens?" I asked, remembering that they had moved here just a few months before I did," How is that possible?"

He shrugged.

"I thought they just moved here…"

"—Or just moved back," he interjected, "Like I said, it's stupid."

"Just get on with it!"

He pushed me with his shoulder," Fine."

I looked at him expectantly, pulling on a loose string in the hem of my shirt, suddenly nervous.

"Supposedly, The Cullens are descendants of The Cold Ones. We found them hunting on our land. This was… generations ago, Bella."

"Like how many generations ago? How many years?"

"I don't know," he blanched.

"Jake… Come on."

The strangest sense of urgency was building in my stomach and he couldn't tell the story fast enough. I somehow knew, intuitively, that maybe this story was the reason that Edward was so unwilling to talk about his past. But he wasn't one of the The Cullens, I said to myself, old 'friends' I repeated to myself, trying to recollect the details of Edward's sparse explanations in my head.

"60… Maybe more, maybe less," Jacob said finally, kicking the cabinets under the counter lightly with the back of his foot.

"W-were they bad?" I asked, not knowing where the question came from, unsure of the answer that Jacob would give me. It didn't matter what he said, I decided, waiting for his answer. Even if he said that they were, I knew that Edward wasn't. He couldn't be. He was… Edward.

"No," Jacob said with certainty, but hesitating to qualify his answer.

"No?" I encouraged him, forcing him to continue.

"They weren't like the rest of their kind… It's the only reason we didn't expose them for what they were."

I felt a bead of perspiration fall down the back of my neck. I swiped at it quickly, as if it was fire and not sweat that trailed along my skin. I clenched my hands into fists, noticing that they were clammy too. My heart drummed steadily in my chest, suddenly responding to the same trepidation that my hands already had.

"W-what were they, Jake? The Cold ones," I said, barely able to force out the words that he had only just said, "What are they?"

His eyes went pitch-black, his upper lip curling in a way I had never seen. It forced the pit in my stomach even father south.

"It's stupid, Bella. It's just an old legend…"

I grabbed his arm and his eyes softened as they darted to my hand; he noticed the physical manifestation of my nervousness. I let go of his arm.

"Bells, don't freak out."

"What were they, Jake?"

"It's stupid."

"Jake, please," I reached forward again, squeezing his hand, wordlessly begging him to continue.

He rolled his shoulders back, trying to feign nonchalance, clearly hoping that his change in demeanor would result in a change in mine. But I couldn't pretend I didn't care now, not when I felt like I was just on the verge of unlocking the key to whatever secret Edward seemed so hell bent on hiding from me.

"Vampires."

"Vampires?"

He shrugged, pulling his hand out of mine, looking away.

Vampires. I repeated the word in my head.

Vampires.

Jacob turned to look at me with an apprehensive stare, trying to gauge my reaction.

Vampires.

Our eyes met, black into brown, and suddenly… the pit in my stomach unfurling… the clamminess of hands evaporating…

We laughed.

We laughed, long and hand hard, with deep heaving breaths and hands over stomachs, and just… laughing.

It took us a few minutes to calm down, both of us high on the ridiculousness of it all.

"God, Jake! You scared me half to death!" I said after I caught my breath, punching him in the arm, "I thought you were going to say they were like... In the mafia or something!"

He chuckled, wiping a stray tear out of the corner of his eye, "You should have seen your face, Bella! You looked like you were going to piss your pants!"

I punched him again, loving and hating the way he always knew the worst ways to make me laugh.

"And what would the mafia be doing in Forks, Bella?" he said, hopping down, turning back to the cabinet to search for the forgotten peanut butter, "Be realistic. That's even less believable than Vampires."

"Realistic," I groaned, jumping onto the linoleum floor, following suit, "You're such an ass…"

I pulled out the bread and reached for a knife, the momentary feeling of carelessness fading quickly when I realized that I still didn't know any of Edward's secrets. At this point, I mused, Vampires would have been better than nothing. I don't think I can take much more of this cryptic, mysterious business…

………………………

I woke up on Sunday morning and actually hoped it was Monday.

That's how pathetic I was.

I was so hopelessly, completely, disgustingly infatuated with Edward that I was actually wishing away the weekend.

Pathetic.

I closed my eyes, hoping for just a little more sleep. I was still tired and I had nobody to blame but myself. On Friday, I stayed up later than usual, canceling my plans with Angela so that I could stay home to curl my hair. Just in case…

… And he didn't come.

I couldn't be mad. He never promised he would.

So I felt even more pathetic for doing it again last night.

It was even worse. I dotted a little perfume behind my ear just before going to bed in my best pajamas. Silk.

Pathetic. Really pathetic.

"Bella," I heard Charlie's voice followed by a tentative knock on the door, "Are you awake?"

"Y-yeah," I groaned, clearing the morning rasp out of my throat, pulling the covers over my pajamas.

There was no need to get Charlie involved, if I could keep him blissfully unaware, I would.

He opened the door slowly and I sat up when I noticed he was fully dressed in his uniform.

He never worked on Sundays.

"You're going to work?" I questioned, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"Yeah," he said, completely ignoring my wardrobe choices, "Port Angeles."

"Why?"

"There was a robbery, then a stand-off. It was bad," he said straightforwardly, "Two cops."

He didn't have to elaborate for me to know exactly what he meant. I felt my stomach lurch at the thought. I was never good with the idea of death, much less murder. Probably violent, surely horrible.

"D-do you have to go?" I said, trying not to let on just how scared I was.

"Yeah, Bells. I do."

He looked at me for a moment and I couldn't keep my eyes from watering.

"Come on, Bells. It'll be fine. It's already over and done with. They're short-staffed as it is. I'll be handing out speeding tickets. It's not a big deal… And since I didn't go in yesterday like I was supposed to..."

I couldn't hear the rest of his sentence. Everything turned into white noise…. I started to hyperventilate.

Like I was supposed to….

Port Angeles…

Robbery…

Do not, under any circumstances, let your Father go to Port Angeles this weekend, do you understand me?

I felt like my chest was collapsing in on itself, I couldn't breath.

He knew…

But how did he…

He knew.

"Bella?"

I tried to calm myself, knowing that involving Charlie would only make it impossible for me to find out the truth.

And I had to know… I had to ask him myself.

But I didn't know how to find him…

… Or where.

But I knew who did.

"Bella? Are you okay?"

"The Cullens," I gasped, "I have to see The Cullens."

………………………………..

A/N:

Before you shank me, I'm actually on Team Everyone. I heart Jacob, I heart Edward, I heart Bella and I heart you. So, you know, don't shank me.

This chapter is dedicated to failed attempts at being alluring, awkward laughter, easy banter and deep conversation.