Jake was clearly conflicted: he'd come over with the goal of both guilt-tripping me and gathering the guys up for practice, but I knew he couldn't turn down Star Wars and beer. I'm sure he was also well-aware that he'd never come out on top if he went head to head with Alice.

"Alright, fine," he said with a sigh, leaning against the door jamb with his arms crossed.

Jasper glanced at his watch. "We should probably go ahead and run to the store then. Are you ladies sticking with wine tonight or would you like us to grab you something?"

"I'm actually in a Blue Moon sort of mood, myself," I said.

"Mmm, that sounds great," Ali agreed. Directing her attention back to Jazz and batting her eyelashes, she asked, "Could you get us a couple six packs and some oranges?"

"Of course," he said, laying the whole Southern Gentleman thing on pretty thick.

"Is that okay with you?" I asked Rose as I secured the end of her hair.

"Make them organic Tuscan blood oranges, won't you please, Jasper?" Rose purred, exaggerating her lash-batting and pouting her lips. Ali shook her head, a death-glare on her face as everyone started laughing. Even Jake let out a little snort.

"As you wish," Jazz replied with a small bow.

I gave Rose's braid a playful tug. "All done! Let me grab some cash for the beer."

"I'll get some, too," Ali said. We all started to stand and disperse, the boys heading downstairs and the girls hurrying to their rooms to gather the money.

I was rifling through my purse, trying to find my wallet. I honestly can't figure out how it always ends up filled with so many useless items. What on earth was a ball of twine doing in there? I tossed it to the side, then jumped when I heard a throat being cleared.

Jake was standing by the door, which was now shut. I thought he had gone downstairs with the rest of the guys.

"So, is everything okay with us?"

I wasn't sure what to say to that. I mean, yeah, things were fine. Right? I just hadn't been glued to my phone, waiting on him to call, which apparently he'd become accustomed to.

I shrugged my shoulders lightly. "Yeah."

"I feel like I've barely seen you lately. And usually you answer when I call or get back to me pretty quickly. I don't know, things just feel... weird."

"I'm sorry, I guess I've just been busy with getting settled in here and all."

He stared at me another moment before relaxing slightly. "Yeah, okay."

There was a knock on my door - the lightness and rapidity told me it must be Alice. Jake turned to open it and she stood there, waving a fist of bills in her hand and smiling.

"Oh, just a sec," I said, finally locating my wallet, extracting some cash and handing it to Ali, who quickly flitted off.

I shifted my eyes to the floor. I could feel Jake stare at me for a long moment; his dissatisfaction with my explanation was palpable even without meeting his gaze, but I didn't know what else to say. Finally, he sighed and turned to follow Alice down the stairs.

I stood by my door, feeling the need to regroup for a moment. It was kind of overwhelming, how much the mood in the house shifted with Jake's arrival - like a single cloud blocking out the sun in an otherwise clear sky. He used to have the opposite affect on me... on everyone, really. I knew he was frustrated with how I brushed off his concerns, but it wasn't like we could have some big talk about things right then. And really, a day or two apart from each other wasn't the end of the world. We've both been settling into new places, getting adjusted and whatnot, so my explanation was hardly unreasonable.

A small cough at my side startled me and I turned to find Alice staring at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Did the guys already head to the store?" I asked, blinking a few times. I didn't realize how deep in thought I'd been.

"Yeeees," she replied, drawing it out as though speaking to a child. "You alright?"

"Yeah, sorry, I just..." My mouth hung open, unsure of how to continue.

Alice's expression shifted to something I couldn't quite place; it was somewhere between "desperately trying to hold one's tongue" and "pity," which, frankly, made no sense whatsoever. I really wasn't in the mood to pull her teeth, though, so I plastered on a smile and said, "You have your copy of A New Hope ready, or should I grab mine?"

++o++o++o++

The boys returned quickly, various types of beer in hand. Alice playfully snatched the bag of oranges from Jasper, dancing off to the kitchen to start slicing them up. Edward and Rosalie started a little assembly line, loading the fridge up with six-packs. I plucked some glasses from the cabinet (my standard of usefulness, apparently) and soon we were all headed back to the living room.

There was sort of a weird pause as everyone stared at the seating options; unsure of what to do, I focused my attention on loading the DVD, taking a bit too long for such a simple task. Emmett and Alice started arguing about her taste in furniture and by the time I turned back around, everyone had settled in: Alice and Jasper were in one of her roomier art deco chairs, Rose had chosen the smaller one, Emmett was sprawled out on the floor, while Jake and Edward were on either side of the couch... leaving me with one option. Jake looked up at me expectantly, so I sat down on the middle couch cushion, feeling a heightened awareness of my own body that left little room for comfort.

As Alice pressed play, Rose let out an extremely long-suffering sigh.

"Oh, hush," Ali scolded.

"The bet didn't specify that I had to be pleasant about it," Rose retorted with a glare.

Emmett laughed before asking, "Wait, so how exactly does it work? Does Rosalie have to watch the original trilogy, just Episode IV or all six?"

Ali and I burst into incoherent yelling at the exact same time, resulting in a jumble of: "DON'T EVEN TALK TO ME ABOUT- EMMETT HOW DARE YOU- ABOMINATIONS OF THE FILM MEDIUM- FUCK PRESENT DAY GEORGE LUCAS AND HIS STUPID TURTLENECKS- SHOOT HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN IN HIS WHINY FACE!"

"Jesus! Tell us how you really feel, you fucking nerds," Emmett said, looking between us with wide eyes.

I noticed the cushions vibrating lightly to my side and realized Edward was doubled over in laughter. He sucked in a breath and said, "I mean, it's true."

"You filtered out an actual argument from that outburst?" Rose asked. She looked sincerely confused.

Edward eyed her for a moment before saying, "I'm honestly not sure how to explain it to someone who has made a point to avoid the franchise entirely."

"The guy responsible for the original trilogy..." Alice began.

"...which is AWESOME," I interjected.

"...made a prequel trilogy later on..."

"...that was like a three-course meal of various kinds of shit served on very fancy platters," I concluded.

Rose just peered at us over a giant gulp of beer. "Okay, whatever, I honestly don't care."

"Well, you guys just talked over the intro, so now she's not going to have a clue what's going on anyway," Jake pointed out.

"These movies aren't exactly complex," Jasper said with a laugh. "I think she'll be able to keep up."

"Really? I've always considered A New Hope to be on par with Mulholland Drive in terms of cinematic complexity," I said with a grin.

Edward laughed. "Now I'm imagining what the prequels would have been like if David Lynch had directed them."

"Who the fuck is David Lynch?" Jake asked.

"Would you all just shut up and watch?" Emmett's demand quieted us all down, the sound of beers being swigged and epic orchestral music replacing our voices.

++o++o++o++

Two hours and several bottles later, everyone turned to Rose for her reaction. She delicately drained her cup, licked her lips and cocked her head slightly before saying, "I just don't get all the fuss about Han. Luke is way hotter."

This "Alice & Bella" outburst put the first one to shame. I doubt anyone could even pick out single words, so grand was our ire and disbelief. As Ali stopped to take a breath, however, my statement of, "I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU!" rang out loud and clear.

Rose just shrugged, unmoved by our fury. "Maybe it's the light sabre."

"Oh, you WOULD turn this all Freudian and phallic," Alice huffed.

"I would much rather have Han's blaster."

"Damn Bella, we all know how much you want that blaster, you don't have to keep talking about it," Emmett said. Rose apparently found this absolutely hilarious.

Jazz nodded towards Jake. "I'd be a little worried, if I were you."

I rolled my eyes, assuming Jake would just come back with some cocky innuendo regarding space-weapon size. When he didn't immediately respond, I looked over at him; he let out a little scoff and muttered, "Yeah."

Fucking awkward.

Never one for uncomfortable silence, Emmett let out a belch before asking if we were going to watch the next one.

"Hell no, are you kidding me?" Rose cried. "A marathon viewing was never part of the deal."

"And I want to draw this whole thing out for as long as possible, anyway," Ali said with a devious smirk.

Jazz started stretching out his arms, saying, "I'd better head out, anyhow - I still need to pick up some books before Thursday and I wanna get up early to beat the masses."

"Ooh, I need to do that, too." Alice was getting downright shameless.

"Well, how about I swing by here around eight and we can go together?" he replied with a smile.

"Sounds good!"

Everyone started to stand and clear away glasses and bottles, gravitating towards the kitchen and back door. Rose said goodnight, somehow managing to exit and walk up the stairs in a seductive manner that was clearly not lost on Emmett. As Jasper and Alice finalized their plans, Em turned to Jake and asked if he wanted a ride home.

"Uhh..." he said, glancing at me.

Oh shit, I was supposed to give him some kind of indication of whether I wanted him to stay the night.

While I floundered, he looked back at Em and said, "Nah, it's cool man, I'm only a couple blocks away."

"Alright dude, practice tomorrow?"

"Sure thing."

"Edward?"

Edward was at the sink, rinsing bottles and tossing them in the recycling. "Yeah man, is around three okay?"

"Works for me. 'Night Bells," Em said, throwing in a hair tussle before opening the door and practically dragging Jasper along with him.

"Thank you for the hospitality, ladies!" he called behind him. I generally hate it when guys use the term "ladies," but somehow Jazz manages to do it without sounding condescending.

"You're quite welcome!" I called back. Alice was apparently too deep in her daze.

Once she snapped out of it, she shut the door and floated off with a dreamy "Night night, everyone," leaving me, Jake and Edward alone in the kitchen.

Edward rinsed the last bottle, tossed it and turned around. Part of me wanted to suggest some other activity so I didn't have to face the looming bedtime scenario, but he quickly appraised the two of us before saying, "Well, I guess I'm gonna turn in, too. 'Night guys."

"Yeah, see you tomorrow," Jake said. Edward did a little drum-roll motion at him, nodded at me and headed for the basement door.

Once it shut behind him, Jake looked down at me and asked, "So, can I stay over?"

I honestly didn't have any reason to tell him no; we used to sleep at each others' places all the time and I couldn't use my "girls night" excuse. Wait, why was I looking for an excuse in the first place?

"Um, yeah, sure."

He raised his eyebrow slightly. "Okaay…"

As I locked the doors, turned out the lights and we headed upstairs, I tried to figure out what my reservations were. Maybe it was just that things were still tense, or maybe I had just really been enjoying reading myself to sleep and taking up the whole bed. I needed to shake it off - I was being ridiculous.

Once we were in my room, he immediately started taking off his pants. I knew he was just getting ready for bed, but it still felt weird somehow. I slipped into the bathroom to brush my teeth, taking a little more time than necessary. It occurred to me that it had been… a while, since we'd last had sex. We'd been pretty busy, visiting our parents and moving and all that. He probably just assumed it would be happening tonight, which wasn't exactly out of line; my sex drive had always matched (if not exceeded) his and our Doin' It schedule used to be fairly solid. Sure, there were times where one of us would be too tired or headachey or whatever, but even that was rare.

I took a deep breath, assessed my mood and realized… I totally did not want to have sex with my boyfriend and it had nothing to do with headaches or sleepiness. In fact, I was actually feeling a bit sexually frustrated and probably could've used the outlet, but the thought of going back into my room and doing anything of that nature with Jake wasn't doing anything for me.

I had never really felt this about him before… or lacked a feeling, I suppose. I mean, it's totally normal for a person to not be "in the mood," but this seemed different somehow.

A knock brought me out of my reverie. "Didja fall in?"

Well, even if I HAD been in the mood, that certainly would have killed it.

"Yup. I'm drowning. Help, help," I deadpanned as I shimmied out of my clothes. Leaving them on the floor, I grabbed my gigantic (and decidedly un-sexy) robe off its hook and wrapped myself up tightly.

When I opened the door, he was standing next to the bed in just his boxers. I took in the image, willing my body to respond to it, but it was like looking at a statue – I couldn't feel anything beyond a basic appreciation for the aesthetic quality.

"Ready for bed?" he asked.

No. "Yeah."

I climbed in after him and he quickly moved us into a spooning position, enveloping me in his big arms. I closed my eyes, wishing I really was tired.

After a minute or so, his hand began trailing up and down my body, molding his palm to my curves. It wasn't long before I felt his dick pressing into me. I tried, one last time, to breathe deeply, relax and let myself enjoy being touched, but it was futile. I felt nothing.

He continued the circuit with his hand, becoming more insistent. I had no idea how to treat the situation and my lack of response was obviously confusing him.

"Bella?" he whispered.

"I - I'm sorry, Jake, I'm just… so exhausted," I finally said, cringing inwardly at having used such a cliché excuse.

His hand immediately stilled. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." I mean, I could be really tired. For all he knew, I'd actually helped with all the moving today.

I felt his body stiffen (not like that) and he abruptly turned completely away from me.

What the hell? I mean, I could understand feeling a little hurt at getting shot down, but really? Getting ANGRY at someone for not wanting to have sex with you is completely fucking unacceptable. And what, he didn't even want to touch me if it wasn't going to end in him getting off? Fuck. That.

I stared at the wall, pissed off at his reaction but not really having it in me to start an argument about it. I felt strangely resigned; I stared at the exact same blank spot until my eyelids finally drooped.

++o++o++o++

When I woke the next morning, I immediately noted the sprawl of my arms and legs - I was taking up far too much room for Jake to still be in bed. I glanced up at my clock, surprised to find it was only nine. Jake never got up before noon if it could be helped.

It was actually fairly sunny outside and I figured if I was awake, I might as well be productive. I certainly wasn't going to lay around moping all day over Jake and his shitty little tantrum.

I was all sweaty and gross from having that stupid robe on all night, so despite my body's desperate cries for coffee, I ripped it off and took a quick, cool shower. The aroma of fresh apples from my shampoo and conditioner instantly calmed me down; something about that smell always made me feel better.

I stood in front of my closet wrapped in a towel and realized I didn't even want to put clothes on, given the oppressive humidity that even my giant window-unit couldn't compete with. I rifled through my things, knowing I didn't want to deal with denim or sleeves and ending up in stretchy shorts and an old Clash tank. Catching myself in the mirror, I thought of Jake's stupid, "Put some clothes on" comment and snorted derisively. Like he had some sort of agency over my body – pshh.

I decided to let my hair air-dry; grabbing my planner, notebook, some books and pens, I headed down to the kitchen. Classes started the next day and I wanted to be as prepared as possible.

The unmistakable smell of coffee filtered through the entire downstairs. Alice must've made some before heading out with Jasper. As I got to the kitchen, I noticed music playing - from the porch, it sounded like. And, wait, was that Talib Kweli? Hmm…

I set my things down on the counter, glancing at the almost-full pot of coffee before gently opening the back door and peering out.

Edward was sitting on the couch in a plain white t-shirt and black gym-shorts, a notebook in his lap and textbook propped open at his side. He was drumming his pen on the edge of the table, perfectly in time with the beat, and frowning in concentration behind, oh god, black framed glasses. This was too much.

He glanced up just as I was slipping back inside. "Oh, hey!"

I cleared my throat. "'Morning."

He turned down the iPod player that was sitting next to his mug on the table. "I made some coffee," he grinned.

"I noticed. Is that all for you, or…?"

"Hah, no. Well, maybe, but I guess I can spare some."

"Gee, thanks," I said, leaving the door open while I fixed myself a cup. Now I wasn't sure what to do – I didn't want to interrupt his studying, but it seemed like it'd be sort of rude for me to just grab the coffee and go back to my room.

Then I felt him behind me, his hand reaching for the pot I'd just finished pouring from. I turned and handed it to him, his fingers slipping over mine to grip the handle while I released it.

That stupid fucking tingle was really starting to unnerve me.

"Oh, were you doing some work for tomorrow, too?" he asked, nodding toward my things on the counter.

"Yeah, I just figured I'd set up my planner and take some notes and stuff. Be that kid in the class, you know," I said.

"It's okay to be that kid, you just have to seem like the type who beat that kid up in high-school."

"Oh, are you also teaching 'Being Cool: A History' in your spare time?"

He smirked at me, placing the pot back in the coffee maker. "I teach that all day, every day just by existing."

I blinked at him a few times.

"What?"

"Oh, sorry, I just got on image of you as The Fonz. Do you do that 'Ehhh' thing in the mirror every morning?"

"I'm not sure how I feel about being compared to a middle aged dude in a leather jacket constantly lurking around high schoolers."

"Really? That's Cool 101, last I checked," I said, raising my eyebrow and taking a sip of my coffee.

"It's a good thing I moved in; you obviously need a refresher course."

"I'm sorry I created this little metaphor."

"You should be."

I shook my head, turning back to my books as he pivoted toward the door. "Here, I'll clear up some space for you."

"Oh! Um, you don't ha… I mean, I don't want to disturb you or anything."

"Why would you be disturbing me?"

I didn't really know how to answer that, so I went ahead and grabbed my things.

"You can change the music, if you want, or just turn it off."

"No way, I always listen to socio-political underground hip-hop while I'm studying," I said passively.

I could feel him staring at me, so I glanced up. The look on his face said, I think you're bullshitting me, but maybe you're not.

I laughed. "Okay, usually I go for a more Sam Beam-y vibe when I'm concentrating, but Talib is fine, too."

He nodded with a smirk and returned his attention to his books.

I started flipping through my planner, color-coding my schedule and mapping out the fastest routes between classes. I was pretty stoked to have most of my Gen Eds out of the way and have my schedule consist almost solely of Journalism and Photography classes. Unfortunately, there wasn't much in the way of Photo-Journ specific courses at Portland U, so I was kind of just taking what I could get and mashing it all together. Obviously it would've helped if I'd had any idea what I wanted to major in when I actually started college, but I mean, who does, really? 18-year-old anarcho-punk me barely even wanted to attend college, thinking it was a huge waste of money for shit I could teach myself. I'll never forget the look on Charlie's face when I brought that point up over dinner.

"Photo-Journalism, huh?" Edward asked, tapping one of my books.

"I like writing and I like taking pictures - it made the most sense," I said with a small shrug.

He nodded. "Any particular type of journalism?"

I'd opened my mouth to respond when he said, "You strike me as the Gonzo sort."

I paused in my highlighting and stared up at him, stunned. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

And I meant it. Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail was the book that inspired me to go this route; Hunter S. Thompson, the father of Gonzo journalism, is my ultimate role-model. How the fuck could Edward even gather enough about me to make that assessment?

I realized we were both still staring at each other when the door of the porch flew open.