Hello, friends!

The outtake has arrived! It's takes place after the July 5th of their first summer, and before the appearance of Tanya. It's EPOV. It's going to give you both some insight into his mental state during this time, and some lemonade as well. I wanted to give you some conversations that would've disrupted the flow if I had included them, but I think really add to the story as a whole. I can't even tell you how much I enjoyed getting back in this kid's head.

I must thank my betas LouderThanSirens, Momma Bear, and also ShearEnvy, who very graciously offered to help me out with this as well. Thanks to my prereader stephk0525, because she convinced me that I could write words that I didn't think I could write, and she is so supportive it makes me squee.

Also, many thanks to M of masenvixen, who provided the concept for the last lemon, and to wearingwords, who tweeted a very inspiring gif a few weeks ago.

So, without further ado, I give you Prickward.



What surprises me most about this summer is that I don't get bored. I don't get bored with this place, or with her.

She intimidates me. I'm surprised by that as well. She can speak intelligently about almost anything - politics, literature and thanks to her dad, even fishing.

I've known smart girls, but never one so comfortable with both her mind and her body. I get sucked in just by the way she talks and tells stories. When she's lost in something, a conversation, leaning forward and speaking passionately, I get lost with her. When she laughs, I smile.

I can feel the mask slipping.

Outside of my immediate family, Bella is probably the only person who has seen even a glimpse behind the façade in…fuck...years. It's not the first time a girl has tried to figure me out, but it's the first time I've let one get close enough to even have a chance of succeeding.

I want to know her, too. I'm fascinated by her life. I want to hear about her mom. I want to know what it was like spending summers here when she was a kid. I watch her with Rose and Jasper, jealous of their closeness. They are so in tune that they can have entire conversations without speaking a word.

More and more, I find myself dropping the act. No, I don't even drop it, because that would indicate that it's a conscious thing. She disarms me and I don't notice when it happens. I'm less aloof. I laugh more. I can't help being cocky, but I'm not as big of an asshole.

I may not always be aware of it, but Em is.

Sometimes I find him watching me, and the walls slam back into place. It gets harder every time, though, and I don't even know how to feel about that.

I try really hard not to think about what it means.

It's July 12th and Em and I are on a run. It's quiet and really fucking hot.

"We're gonna miss that banquet next month. Mom said it's on the 5th," he says out of the blue, like we were in the middle of a conversation or something. I frown, and then remember what he's talking about. Some stupid alumni shit that the team is supposed to attend, I think.

What runs through my mind next makes me stop, stumbling. I bend over, my hands on my knees. I feel sick.

He slows and loops back. "You okay, brother?" he asks. I can see his huge feet jogging in place out of the corner of my eye.

"Yeah." I raise myself up slowly, trying to catch my breath.

I'm way too hot, but the heat isn't what is making me feel like this. I lift my t-shirt and use it to wipe off my face.

"Okay, what's up? You're acting really fucking weird, kid." He's stopped running, and is standing in front of me with his arms crossed, scrutinizing my expression.

I want to lie. I really do, but he'll know anyway, so there's no point. "You said August 5th, and I swear to god the first thing that I thought was...fuck." I run my hands through my hair, closing my eyes for a second.

He waits patiently for me to get it together and continue. "I thought about how on August 5th, it would be one month since we were together...or whatever." I shake my head, looking off into the trees. "That sounds so fucking lame."

I sneak a glance at him. His eyes are wide, eyebrows raised. "Dude. You really fucking like her. I mean, shit, I could tell, but you really fucking like her. You remember...the date."

"Yeah, well, it was the day after the 4th, so whatever."

He just shakes his head, disbelief plain on his face. "Wow."

I don't know why that pisses me off, but it does. "It doesn't matter. It won't change anything. Practice starts, and we leave."

He looks pained, and I can tell he's had the same thought.

His expression brightens after a second. "Maybe we can work it out, though, bro. People do this shit all the time. Move for each other, long distance..." He fades off when I start laughing. I regret it immediately. He stares at the ground.

"Sorry. Damn," I mumble. "It's just...you don't even know this girl, and you're thinking about moving for her?"

"What and you're not? I mean it didn't cross your mind that she could be the one?" His face is already red from the run, but he flushes further. I could say about a million things about the fact that he just said "the one" to me, but I don't. I suppress a laugh, though, and he can tell.

He steps closer, pointing a finger at me. He knows I hate that shit, and knows that he's the only one that can get away with getting in my face like that.

"I see you. You watch her like she's the only person in the room." My skin suddenly feels cold. "I've never seen you like that with a girl, man. Don't write it off just because you think it's what you're supposed to do. You haven't even asked her."

He stands there for a second, and then drops his hand. I don't think I have the look on my face that he was hoping for.

"I can't do that," I answer after a minute, and he groans even before I finish the sentence.

"Motherfuck, Edward. You can't stay closed off from everything, because if you do, you'll miss the bad shit, but you'll miss the good shit, too. You're allowed to be happy, you know."

I choose to ignore most of what he said; or at least, I'm not responding to it. "I am happy, Em."

"Did you stop to think about why that is?"

I want to say something fucked up, like it's because I'm fucking a hot virgin or some other shitty remark, but I stop myself, because it feels wrong. "It doesn't matter," I repeat. The words don't come as easily this time.

He wants to say more, but I start a slow jog, waiting for him to catch up before I pick up speed. It takes him a few minutes to speak.

"You remember the date."

"You said 'the one'."

We run silently for a minute. "I know," he answers finally. I can't decipher the look on his face.


She's on her knees on the bed while I stand behind her, pulling her hips back to meet mine. I press gently on her back so she bends over further, pressing her cheek into the mattress. I watch her face.

I didn't know that I would feel this way... that the fact that I'm the first would consume me. Every time we try something new, I get to do it knowing that I'm the only one who's been there, to make her feel that way.

I'm all fucking possessive about it, and her.

I didn't know that would happen, either. If I could stop it, I would.

I should stop thinking about this shit while I'm inside her, but I get harder and thrust faster thinking about how I'm the only one who gets to do these things. My mind flashes back to the last week.

On her back, her knees pulled up to her shoulders, both of us watching with our mouths open while I push in just a little and pull out, rubbing the head on her clit and pushing back in again. That time, she comes in under a minute.


Her on top, unsure of her pace and movement, so I guide her hips until she gets it, and then let her go. She puts both hands on my chest for leverage, her tits bouncing and her face almost angry while she concentrates.


Slow. Missionary. I kiss her. She wraps her legs around me and my brow furrows while our lips press together. I don't want to go faster. I don't want it to be over. I want to exist in this place that feels so good it hurts.


I come too quickly. Before she does. I can't control it and that fact scares the shit out of me.


Ever since Bella and I hooked up, Rose's attitude towards me changed, which isn't a surprise. Jasper is less judgmental, but he's also far more observant, which freaks me out. I haven't really gotten to know Alice very well, but in some ways she's a lot like J.

I catch her watching me. No. Fuck. Like, studying me. Like, if she stares long enough she might be able to tell what I'm thinking.

I don't avoid her or anything, but I definitely don't try to spend any time alone with her. Not that the opportunity arises often, but one afternoon Rose drags Bella and Emmett into town, leaving me with Jasper and Alice. Alice sits in a lounge chair on the beach while I hold a spool of fishing line for J, who's relining a rod. They banter back and forth, and with her distracted by J, I really look at her.

She's small. Not fragile, but her whole presence is hesitant. She flinches sometimes when she shouldn't. An unfamiliar protective feeling builds up in me when I think of that creepy fucker hitting her. I would get a sick satisfaction out of feeling his jawbone give way to my fist. If I feel like this, I can only imagine what it must be like for Jasper.

When I return to the present, they're both frowning at me. I look down and realize my hands are fisted together around the spool, and it stopped spinning. Every muscle in my arms is flexed. With effort, I relax and try to smile.

She smiles back warily. Jasper puts down the rod, saying he'll finish it later. He gives me a strange look, and then kisses her forehead before going upstairs to take the ribs off the grill and get more beer.

Alice just sits there and stares at me. I'm in a chair a couple of feet from her, but suddenly I feel like I'm way too close. I feel naked.

She finally speaks. "You're impossible to read, you know that? It's like trying to decipher hieroglyphics."

I just shrug, because...that's kind of the point.

"Can I ask you a question?" Alice says.

"You can ask me anything you want, but that doesn't mean I'll answer." I know my tone is acidic, but I feel like I'm being dissected and that makes me defensive.

She snorts, "Touché."

We sit watching the floating dock spin slowly, straining against its anchor.

"What were you thinking about a minute ago? You looked really…angry." She says the last part quietly, like the word itself could inspire me to get pissed off again. I feel like shit then. She's not looking at me, but I can see her expression is worried.

It's ironic that I was thinking about her ex, when my anger obviously reminded her of him.


I rub the back of my neck, wincing. I don't want to tell her.

She turns to me. "I'll make you a deal. You answer honestly, and I will, too."

Normally I wouldn't even consider it, but she's got her legs curled under her like a little kid, and the look on her face is…I nod. "I was thinking about punching that King kid's face in."

She stops, looking at me with confusion. "Why?"

She's probably shocked that I have a decent bone in my body.

She clarifies. "I guess it just surprises me that you remember his name." I think that means that I come off as extremely self-absorbed. I shrug again. I can see why she would think that, and in a lot of ways she's totally right.

"Why did you stay with him after he..." I don't want to actually say the words. I don't know all the details, but I know he hit her, and that's enough.

She cringes. I do, too. Her eyes move over the water, like she's searching for an answer there. Maybe I shouldn't have asked that. Maybe we shouldn't be having this conversation at all. When she answers, she doesn't sound as upset as I thought she would, though. "I thought I loved him. I didn't know how it could be." She smiles at that last part, thinking of J, no doubt. Her next question catches me off guard. "What are you and B going to do after this summer?"

I clench my jaw. I've known Bella for less than a month. I've only been fucking her for a little over a week. It's both incredibly intimate, and very new. Either way, I know my answer is cold. "I'm going back to Texas." I don't elaborate, because there's nothing more to say. I'm annoyed, so my tone is biting, but what I ask next makes her laugh. "Why the fuck do women always want to figure men out?"

She shakes her head, smiling. "I don't think it's a gender thing. I think it's human nature to want to understand the people around you. And you, my friend, are a total mystery," she says, looking me over head to toe. "On one hand you're this total cocky jock. No offense, but it's like right out of a teen movie." It's my turn to laugh. "But on the other? You're smarter than you let on, and obviously put up a front." I sober, staring straight ahead. "I guess I want to know…why?"

I think about that for a minute. There's a built in default answer about my father, but that, in truth, doesn't really explain it. Emmett's not like this.

I stumble over the words, probably because they're honest. Even though Emmett and I had this conversation a few days ago, I didn't voice it. I didn't have to, because he already knows. It still feels weird to say the words out loud.

"I don't know how to live up to expectations. I fucking…I don't want to have people depend on me for shit, and I don't want to depend on anyone, so I just don't…do that." She gives me this look, like she understands, but I don't think she can so I change the subject. "What about you and Jasper?"

She looks sad. "I don't know yet. Even though I've only known him for a month, I think being apart from him will ache like a phantom limb."

"I think he feels the same," I say, knowing how he looks at her. "Which makes him a total pussy."

She laughs loudly, and reaches over to smack my arm. "Asshole."

"A truer statement has never been spoken." I laugh, too.

"Alright, one more. If you like her so much, and I know you do," she says seriously, her raised eyebrow daring me to disagree. I can't, and my chest constricts under the full weight of that statement. "Why don't you even try?"

No emotion registers on my face. Some little, repressed part of me wants to cry, though.

"Because I shouldn't even have started this shit," I say, my voice low. "I'm going to hurt her." I haven't said that out loud to anyone, not even Em. I can't even look at Alice, because knowing that, and still doing what I'm doing, is unforgivable.

"Beer here!" Jasper yells, walking down the steps with a whole case. By the time he reaches the bottom, he's picked up on the vibe. He brings the case into the boathouse to put it in the fridge, his eyes flicking between us.

Alice leans forward and whispers, knowing he'll come out in a second. "You can change the way things are, Edward. I think you know that." I can feel her eyes on me, but I don't look up, staring at a spot in the sand. "You're just scared."

I feel a little off for the rest of the day. I lay awake that night, listening to her breathe next to me.

The next day I'm tired, and still stuck in my own head. I think what I'm feeling might be guilt, but I try not to dwell on it.

We take siestas when it gets too hot in the afternoon, relaxing in the quiet cool of her bedroom. Her skin smells like sun and her hair twists into thick ropes from the lake water.

The ceiling fan circles lazily; her skin breaks out in light goose bumps that fade slowly as she adjusts to the temperature. My hands have been following the same path across her flat stomach between her hipbones for a few minutes.

She looks down at me, concerned. I wasn't sure if she noticed my unease over the last day since my conversation with Alice, but the girl is nothing if not perceptive.

"What's wrong?" she whispers.

I can't even say, because I'm not really sure. I keep trying to figure out why this feels different- why the impulse to stay and hold her keeps winning out over the rational side of my brain that's telling me to get out before someone gets hurt.

Before she gets hurt...I think.

I need to tell her; say something to remind her that I'm no good for her. But she's always kissing my neck, or saying something perfect, or looking good with her hair sprawled over her pillow. She distracts me in the best ways, and I want to be distracted, so I let it happen.

She's fucking consuming me, yet I have this shitty, nagging feeling underneath it all. Like...was there supposed to be some conversation about what this is?

Every time I come to this, though, I touch her and try to stifle that annoying voice in my head.

I redirect my thoughts back to her body and mine...back to familiar ground.

I think of what I want to do to her. I concentrate on the beating of her heart, the swell of her breast and her smooth skin.

We skipped some shit. We went from kissing to sex in the span of about five minutes. Now I want to go back and show her what we missed. I want to see her lips wrapped around my cock. I want to slide my tongue over slick, sensitive skin. I want to be right there when she comes.

And with that thought, I dip my head to kiss her hipbone. The best distraction.

"Nothing. Just thinking," I answer finally, touching my tongue to her skin.

"About what?" she asks, her eyes closed, thick lashes against her cheek.

"This." I untie the strings of her bikini on one side, slowly pushing it back to expose her. She's smooth, waxed, but not totally bare. I place one kiss close to where I want to be, but not quite. She shudders, pulling me up toward her and fumbling with my shorts. I stop her, placing her hands at her sides.

She squirms under my gaze, not understanding. Her legs spread unconsciously, and I know she wants me to move between her thighs. I take her top off, the wet fabric leaving pale, damp skin behind. We both watch the contrast of her light skin against the deep tan of my hands with shallow breath. She reaches for me again, but I move back down, untying the other side and pulling the thin material completely off.

I'm about to do something I don't do often. Something that's intimate in a way that normally makes me uncomfortable. I want to, though. A lot. She gasps when my lips make contact with her skin, and I grab her hips to keep them on the bed while I kiss my way down to where her skin is still cold, stopping before I come into contact with radiating heat.

In my relatively limited experience in oral, most girls protest here, right at this point. I've never understood that insecurity, and I'm happy to find she doesn't have it. At all, apparently, as she pushes up against my hands, her knees moving farther apart.

I press my tongue just below her clit, letting it slide slowly up, and she writhes, covering her mouth with one hand and rocking slightly. She tastes like water and sun and clean and warmth. I listen to her to see what she likes. I don't use my fingers much, but kiss every inch, looking for her sweet spots, aside from the obvious. Women are complicated like that. You need to be attentive, which is another reason I don't do this often.

She likes long, broad strokes and the gentle pressure of my fingers just inside her, pressing up. I alternate my movements, looking for the combination that's going to make her unravel. An open-mouthed kiss to her clit, slight suction, and she stills, tensing for a few long seconds before swearing, pushing hard against my tongue and clenching around the tips of my fingers.

She finishes with a shaky breath, and I lay next to her, smiling smugly.

"Fuck," she says simply. "You're good at that."

I think about that. I guess I assumed that I was the first here, but I'm probably not. This kicks up a wave of anger and...arousal.

My voice comes out unevenly, saying more than I want it to. "Was that your first time...for that?"

She opens her eyes, turning to look at me curiously. "I wasn't a nun before I met you, Edward." She flips onto her side when she registers my expression. "Why do you look mad?" she asks cautiously. This is the second time that a girl has asked me that in as many days, with that same uneasy look on her face.

"I like being the first," I mumble.

She laughs abruptly. "I'm sure I would have, too."

My chest hurts. She closes her eyes like she's going to fall asleep.

"I didn't mean it like that," I say after a minute. I actually mean that I'm sorry, but can't say the words.

"I know." She doesn't sound upset, just tired, so I leave it alone.

We nap after that, or she does, but I lay awake, painfully hard thinking about what I just did to her. I get up after a while, mostly because I'm hungry. I find a pineapple on her kitchen counter, so I cut it up and find stuff to make sandwiches.

I leave a plate for her on the counter, and she joins me in the living room when she wakes up, her bikini back in place. I'm glad she didn't put a dress on.

She eats only the pineapple, letting the juice run down her fingers and licking it off. We don't talk. I don't know how to ask her for what I want. I'm not sure I've ever had to ask. Most of the time I just find myself standing in front of a girl on her knees, offering like I would offer to buy a girl a drink. Shit, I don't even really do that, though.

She just sits there staring at me, though, a smile teasing her lips. Like she knows.

"Will you...?" I finally ask, looking down at where I'm straining against my board shorts.

She follows my eyes, and then cocks her head when she looks back up at me. "Will I...?"

Fuck. She's always doing this. She doesn't make shit easy. I think I like it. "Will you suck my dick?"

She laughs so hard she doubles over, clutching her stomach. Every time she tries to get it together she meets my eyes and it starts all over again. It takes her two full minutes to regain enough composure to respond.

"God. Yes, of course I will. I just..." she descends into another fit of giggles. "I've never had anyone ask me so bluntly."

"I've never asked before," I shrug, a little embarrassed, but also really fucking hard, because she said she would.

She picks up another piece of fruit, eating it slowly, watching my reaction.

Fucking tease.

She gets up, standing in front of me biting her lip with this smug look on her face. I'm a little surprised. I wear the smug smile here. She grabs a throw pillow and drops it between my legs on the floor.

"You don't have to-"

"Shut the fuck up, Edward," she whispers, leaning over to press her index finger to my lips. "Close your eyes."

I protest, "I want to watch."

She lowers herself to her knees and glares at me until I listen, leaning my head back. There's nothing for a second. I hear her shifting. I can feel her body close to mine. My pulse speeds in anticipation.

Her hands run down my chest, and when she reaches my shorts, she pulls them down slowly, freeing me. And then...nothing. I open my eyes to look at the ceiling, waiting for what seems like forever, so I start to sit up. Her hand pushes forcefully on my chest, and I lay back.

It's only been a week, but I haven't seen her do anything like this yet. I have both good and bad feelings about it, because her confidence probably means that we're encountering something she's familiar with, and is most likely good at.

Her hands are hot against my skin, which is still cool from my damp shorts. She's got a hand on each hip, mirroring my position from earlier.

"B-" I'm starting to feel really exposed, but the warm wet of her tongue licks up from beneath the head of my cock slowly. It's like she's showing me that she liked that when I did it to her, and wants to give it back. She hums quietly, once, like she likes the taste, and the moan that escapes my throat is guttural. I don't even try to stifle it. I want to see her so bad that I have to fight to keep my head back. I can almost feel her smile as she kisses the head with an open mouth, gradually working her lips around it and sucking lightly.

One hand releases my hip and wraps around the base of my cock firmly. Her tongue does something I can't describe as she moves lower, and it makes me buck up into her mouth. She backs up a little, controlling the pace, moving her hand on my hip to hold it down more firmly. Her mouth moves down a little faster now, until I hit the back of her throat. I can feel her swallow. She stops there, and both of us hold our breath. I realize that I'm fisting a pillow, and every muscle in my body is tensed, waiting. She pulls up slowly, working her hand up and down, letting the moisture coat her palm, tightening her grip.

Fuck, she's good.

I can tell she's done this before. I get the same rage mixed with arousal that I had when she told me someone had licked her pussy before, and I harden further in her hot mouth. The hand on my hip disappears, leaving the skin cold in its absence, and she grips harder. I imagine what this looks like, and I wish she was still holding me down, because I'm going to push up again if I'm not careful. I'm lost in my blindness, never knowing her next move, unable to anticipate her pace and whether or not she's watching my jaw clench and my abs tense.

Now when my hips shift, she doesn't back away, letting me inch further in, but she's in control here and that's obvious. I'm shaking, trying to hold back. Not only am I trying to keep myself from thrusting down her throat, I'm trying to keep my hands from reaching for the back of her head.

Even I'm not that big of a fucking asshole.

Then, it changes. Her mouth sits wet around my head, while her tongue slides back and forth across my sensitive skin. Her fist moves up and down, squeezing at the base and up, releasing a little on the down stroke. I raise my head, because I fucking need to see.

Her eyes are closed, her pink lips kissing my cock, her hand moving slowly, rhythmically. She's enjoying it, in tune to my breathing. She strokes up hard, pulling back to look up at me. She smiles, one eyebrow raised, and resumes her actions, moaning around me now.

I notice that her left hand is between her thighs and sit up further to look; her bikini is untied again on one side, her hand sliding up and down as she arches into her own touch.

Without warning, I bust hard into her mouth, a strangled moan stuttering out of my throat. I watch her swallow and pull back with a smile after she slows her motions to a stop.

She laughs lightly, touching her lips delicately to the back of her hand.

I kind of expect her to ask if it was good, or okay, or whatever, but she just shrugs.

I stand up, pulling her up by her hands at the same time. She's still smirking as she ties her bikini bottoms back on. I don't bother with my board shorts.

I think about all the things I'm going to do to wipe it off of her face.

"Where do you think you're going?" I ask as she starts walking toward her room.

"To get dressed," she says lightly. She peeks back at me over her shoulder and raises an eyebrow. A challenge.

"Oh, you are in so much trouble, girl."

She takes off running, and I'm right behind her, fast enough to grab her around the waist and spin her, throwing her over my shoulder. She laughs, trying to slap my bare ass while I carry her to her bed so I can reclaim my smug smile for good.

There are still things we haven't done yet. I want to be the first for every single one of them, because I won't have this soon. I won't have her.

I do the only thing I know how to do -I push the thought down, and lay back on the bed, pulling her up to straddle me. For a second, we look into each other's eyes, and I can't breathe. She's smiling, the smugness gone, only happiness and hope. The only reason I slip my fingers into her is to make her eyes close, because I can't have that expression on me for even one more second.

I fuck her to get out of talking about my reservations.

It's the only thing I'm sure of. It's the only thing I know how to do. And I know I'll regret it.