Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. It belongs to Stephenie Meyer.

This is for Melanie, my beautiful beta.

Despite her busy life she always takes time to beta my stuff overnight; that's amazing.

She sends me books for my daughter even though we live on different continents and have never met in real life; that's amazing.

When my son was born she sent me beautiful baby clothes with helicopters on them because she knew they would remind both of us of Echo Charlie from MotU; that's amazing.

She sends me funny emails almost every week that make me laugh; that's amazing.

I have a friend and a confidante in her; that's amazing.

Happy birthday, Melanie. I hope you have a wonderful day. I love you.


Edward Cullen.

When I was in high school, Edward Cullen was pretty much the center of my universe. He was 'that guy'. You know the one I'm talking about. The guy all the girls were head over heels for, the guy whose smile could light up the whole room, the guy who made Monday mornings the best part of the week, because you would be able to see him after a long weekend. I was so in love with Edward Cullen that it bordered on ridiculous. It was ridiculous.

Edward Cullen was beautiful, athletic, popular and smart. The whole package. Apparently, there was nothing lacking in his package department either. Locker room talk isn't just for guys, you know?

All in all, Edward Cullen was perfect. Of course, all the girls harbored crushes on him, even the ones who kept insisting they didn't like him. I was one of those girls, by the way. There was no way in hell I would ever have admitted to my feelings. It was just too tragic that I should be in love with him when he was beyond unattainable.

See, when I was in high school I wasn't one of the popular girls. I wasn't even one of the girls on the fringe of the social circle, the ones who were invited to parties even though they weren't completely a part of the popular crowd. I didn't have glasses or braces or even acne. Oh no, mine was an affliction that was far less acceptable to high school kids. I was fat.

Except, I wasn't. Not really. I just didn't fit into the size two mold that most of the female student body was made of. I was a size twelve. Still am, actually, but we'll get to that.

I know that I am not fat, but when I was seventeen all I could see were the looks I got while changing before and after P.E. The snickers and whispers when I took off my clothes and revealed a soft, rounded body, which clearly stood out among the sea of visible ribs and hipbones, flat tummies and small pointy breasts. For that reason alone, I hated P.E and skipped as often as humanly possible. It was too bad, because I could have dribbled circles around most of the girls when playing basket ball and knocked the ball out the park, so to speak, when playing baseball. I wasn't lazy and I actually liked sports. I played all the time at home with my dad and my older brother, Emmett, before he left for college. I got a C in P.E, and to this day it still bugged me. So yeah, high school pretty much sucked for me.

Well, that's not really true either. I'm just being dramatic.

It wasn't all bad. I made good friends during those four years, real friends like Alice, Angela and Jessica who didn't care about my size. They are still my friends today. I liked most of my classes and worked hard to earn my grades. I even got invited to prom by Eric Yorkie. And before you ask: No, I didn't go. Putting on a dress and showing skin in front of the entire school pretty much equaled my worst nightmare back then. Plus, I knew that Edward Cullen was going with his girlfriend Tanya No-tits. That's not her real name, mind you. I just like to call her that because she just didn't have any. Well, she did but they were small, probably because she was skinny as a freaking rail. Ok, she wasn't skinny as a rail. That would just be weird. She was thin, though. God, was she thin. And pretty. And popular. And worst of all, Edward Cullen dated her.

And yes, I realize that I keep referring to him as Edward Cullen. First and last name. To me, he was always Edward Cullen.

Edward Cullen; prom king.

Edward Cullen; star quarterback.

Edward Cullen; class president.

Edward Cullen; the one that got away.

The one that got away. Insert snort here. I never had a chance with Edward Cullen. Hopeless and pathetic, I loved him, all through high school without uttering a single word to him. I sputtered a few times, though. Like the time he said hello when I was out walking our old mutt of a sheepdog, Jake, and he happened to pass by me. It was just a boring, grey, regular Saturday afternoon in Forks, WA, and Edward Cullen said hello to me. Suddenly, it was as if the sun had come out and the whole world was filled with warm golden light. My heart raced, my stomach fluttered and I forgot how to breathe. Did I mention that I was seventeen at the time? I desperately wanted to return his greeting but the ability to form actual words was somehow lost. I don't know if I imagined it, but I think he slowed down for just a moment, as if he wanted to talk to me, but then he picked up his pace and passed me without looking back. I know, because I stared after him, mouth agape like a moron, until I couldn't see him anymore. That was the closest I ever came to having a conversation with Edward Cullen. Then, we graduated high school and I never saw him again.

Things changed for me when I went away to college in Seattle. Emmett was there and he introduced me to his friends, took me to parties and slowly brought me out of my shell. He's an awesome brother like that. He also introduced me to my first boyfriend, Garrett. He was nice-looking, sweet and a few years older than me. He took me out on dates, brought me flowers and didn't mind that I wanted the lights turned off the first couple of times we had sex.

For some reason that probably made a lot of sense at the time, I decided that I couldn't be truly happy unless I was thin. I had a boyfriend, friends and great classes but it wasn't enough. So, while most of the other girls gained the apparently obligatory 'freshman fifteen' I started losing weight. Quite a lot of it, actually. At my thinnest, I became a size four. And I was completely miserable for most of the time I was skinny.

Do you know how grumpy a person can get when they're hungry all the time? How completely absorbed you can be by something as awful as counting calories? How you feel like you're going to lose your mind if you're not able to work out for two days? It was hell. My body seemed to rebel against the notion that it was now thin. If I fell off the wagon, so to speak, for one night, I would gain weight in a pinch. It killed me whenever I stepped on the scale and saw that the number had increased, just because I ate a nice meal for once.

Things got even worse junior year. I couldn't concentrate on my studies because I was always hungry and spending way too much time at the gym. I became a nightmare to be with and I didn't even blame Garrett when he broke up with me. I wouldn't want to spend time with me either.

After having to take make up classes during summer before my senior year, I finally decided that it wasn't worth it. I just got sick of it. Always saying no to desserts. Always declining when someone offered me a glass of wine at a party. Always ordering salads when I wanted a steak instead. Avoiding places like movie theatres because the smell of the buttery popcorn made my stomach growl in pain and no amount of carrot sticks could appease my hunger. I was failing my classes and alienating friends because I was so obsessed with staying thin. It wasn't worth it. No way.

I started eating again and, let me tell you, it was fantastic! I still worked out, but just a few times a week and I didn't binge or anything like that. I just ate the things I wanted, finally, and the transformation was almost instantaneous. I felt like myself for the first time in a long while and I came to love my curves when they returned. I felt like a woman again. I was happy. Deliriously so. My grades improved, friendships were salvaged and Garrett even approached me and asked if I wanted to get back together. I didn't. He was sweet and wonderful, but I hadn't been in love with him. I had only ever felt that way about Edward Cullen and, now that I was happy again, I didn't want to settle for less. I didn't feel like I needed to anymore. I would find a man who loved my curves and I would fall head over heels in love with him.

Well, that didn't happen. I date quite a bit and have been in a few short-term relationships, but my one and only experience of being in love still belongs to Edward Cullen. I don't know if it's just the thrill of the first love or of there was something real there, but I have never forgotten him.

Now, at this point you're probably wondering why I have been yammering on about my high school crush when it's been almost ten years since I graduated. I'll tell you. It's because he walked into the bar where I'm currently sitting just a few moments ago. He's here. And he looks good. Really good.

He was a gorgeous kid in high school, no doubt about it, but now he's a man - a tall, broad-shouldered, square-jawed, absolutely fuck-hot man. His hair is the same unusual, awesome penny/bronze/cinnamon color and his eyes are green. I mean, really green. I'm tempted to say super green but then I'd just sound like Chris Tucker in "The Fifth Element" and you wouldn't take me seriously. I'm getting off track. Grown-up Edward Cullen is one sexy ass man. There. Now that's settled.

I have no idea what he's doing here, because last I heard he was living somewhere in California where he also went to college. Now he's apparently back in Washington and he chose to come to my regular 'watering hole'. That's gotta mean something, right?

Suddenly, I'm beyond grateful that Alice had to cancel at the last minute, leaving me alone at the bar. Could this be the chance I never had? I'm no longer shy around guys and I definitely know how to rock my curves, instead of trying to hide them away like I did when I was seventeen. But then again, Edward Cullen only dated skinny chicks and I'm probably not even close to being his type. Wow, that realization does suck.

Edward Cullen. I guess he's out of my reach even when he's standing twenty feet away.

Still, I can't help but keep my eyes on him as he looks around the place. He looks like he's on the prowl, looking for company. Plenty of women are here because it's a Saturday night and, of course, they notice him standing there looking for somewhere to sit. I see several of them giving him alluring smiles, in silent invitation for him to join them. He doesn't. He keeps looking round the place and then his gaze settles on me. And stays there.

Holy shit. Does he recognize me?

No, there's no recognition on his face and I'm not all that surprised. There isn't much resemblance between the shy, constantly hunched over girl I was back then and the woman I am now. I pretty much weigh the same, but it has settled differently on my body after I gained it all back the last year of college. Think about Marilyn Monroe and you get a pretty good idea. Not that I have delusions of ever being as beautiful as her, mind you, but, according to legend, she was a size twelve as well and I am blessed with an hourglass figure just as she was; my waist is pretty slender compared to my hips and chest. The word badonkadonk comes to mind. I also style my hair, wear makeup and dress in clothes that show off my body rather than hide it.

If you got it, flaunt it.

I know that I'm not every guy's type, that for some I'm too soft in some places even if I do work out, but that doesn't bother me anymore. I like the way I look, the way I feel, and that's the most important thing to me. Then I realize something; Edward Cullen is still looking at me, but not in a way that indicates he knows who I am. He's looking…appreciatively at me. His eyes scan me from head to toe several times and, when he sees that I'm aware of his blatant ogling, he does the strangest thing. He blushes. Blushes! In what universe does Edward Cullen blush? I've never seen his blush before and I kept a pretty close eye on him all through high school.


What happens next is even more unexpected. He tugs on the hair at the back of his head a few times and does this strange little dance back and forth on the spot, like the doesn't know whether to walk forward or turn around. Then he looks straight at me, drops his hand and starts walking over to where I'm sitting. My heart starts pounding in my chest and I feel a flutter in the pit of my stomach. That hasn't happened to me since high school and, even then, it was only ever him who was able to elicit such a reaction from me.

He walks up, giving the vacant bar stool next to me a questioning look, like he's asking if it's taken. Feeling stunned, I motion for him to sit down while trying to get my body's response to his closeness under control. He replies with an uneasy smile and lowers himself onto the seat facing the bar, but still angling his body towards me. I sneak a glance around the place and see that several of the women who gave him come-hither looks are shooting daggers at me with their eyes. I see their disbelief as plain as day. They whisper to their friends, probably asking each other why this perfect specimen of a man has chosen to sit next to a fatty. It's like high school all over again, but now I don't let their mocking stares get to me. I smile triumphantly and stick out my chest, showing off my assets.

Take that, slimbos!

That's a word I made up, combining slim and bimbo. Clever, right? When they see that I am not intimidated by their disapproving glances, they return to sipping their diet cokes and low-cal drinks while ignoring the bowl of peanuts in front of them. It's sad to watch, because I used to be one of them, and I know it's not their fault that society, and by society I mean Hollywood and the fashion industry, dictates we should all look like prepubescent teenagers. We're women, for Christ's sake! We're supposed to have tits and asses. We're supposed to be rounded and soft.

I'm so caught up in my internal rant that I fail to notice that Edward Cullen has turned his head and is now looking at me again, and nowhere near my face. I steal a glance down my body and smile to myself. One of the best things about having more than ten percent body fat is, no doubt, what it does to your boobs. Mine, or at least the cleavage between them, is now on display in the low neckline of my favorite royal blue wrap dress. It's pretty simple but it hugs my curves in just the right way and I love this color against my skin. Edward Cullen seems to agree, because his eyes are glued to my chest. I decide to mess with him, pushing them together with my arms so that it doesn't look too obvious.

I see his lips part and he shifts a little in his seat. Suddenly, he seems to remember that it's not so polite to stare at a woman's tits like this and quickly turns towards the front again. I take a sip of my beer and tap my fingers on the bar to the beat of the background music, wondering what he'll do next.

I still can't seem to wrap my head around the fact that Edward Cullen is sitting right next to me. I haven't exactly been pining for him for the past ten years, but he has always been there somewhere at the back of my mind, making it impossible for me to truly fall for a guy, because they all fell short compared to him.

We sit there for a few minutes and I see him looking at me out of the corner of my eye. He opens his mouth to say something, then shuts it again and turns his face away while tugging at his hair. He does this several times. What is his deal?

Maybe he remembers me now?

He does the whole thing again and I'm about to put him out of his misery and just greet him, when he beats me to it.

"Hello," he says softly. "I'm Edward."


I turn my head and give him a smile, still not seeing any recognition on his face. He has no idea who I am.

"Hi Edward," I say.

He looks expectantly at me and I know what I'm supposed to do: tell him my name. But I don't want to. He may not recognize me, but if I tell him my name there's a chance he might. There's also a very real chance that Edward hasn't changed a whole lot since high school, and while he was never a jerk or anything, there was no way he ever talked to social outcasts like me.

He seems puzzled by the fact that I'm not giving in to his silent request, but my warm smile clearly tells him that I'm not rejecting his invitation to talk. At least, that's what I'm hoping it will convey.

"You're not gonna tell me your name?" he asks.

"No." I smile wider.

"Hmm," he grins. "What should I call you then?"

"You can call me B," I say and play with the stem of my glass.

Edward Cullen's eyes catch the movement of my fingers and widen slightly. Yep, I totally mimicked stroking something.

"B for beautiful?" he asks.

I laugh.

"Sure, if you say so."

"I do," he replies, looking serious all of a sudden.

Damn. He just called me beautiful. I think the teen girl inside me just swooned or squealed. He looks around the place for a few seconds.

"So, you do come here a lot?" he asks.

Oh no, he didn't. Edward Cullen looks like he just realized that he used the most overused pick-up line known to man and the tips of his ears turn red. He looks down and mumbles something to himself that sounds unmistakably like "fucking moron". He's all flustered and, God help me, I think it's cute. He's not at all what I expected him to be. The Edward Cullen I remember was sure of himself, confident and even a little cocky.

Heh. Cocky.

He had every reason to be, since the entire school pretty much worshipped him. Look at him now; fidgeting, nervous, using bad pick-up lines as conversation starters.

"Sorry, I-"

"That's okay," I say with a smile. "Yeah, I come here a lot. It's right between work and home, so…"

"Have you been working tonight?" he asks.

"No, just got stood up by a friend," I answer with a shrug.

"That's too bad. Can I buy you a drink?" he asks, recovered from his faux-pas, and motions for the bartender.

"Sure, I'll have another beer," I say and hold up my empty bottle. "Oh, and maybe some peanuts. New ones."

"Beer?" he asks, raising his eyebrows. "And peanuts?"


"Wow, are you a breath of fresh air," he replies and orders with the bartender before looking at me again with another gorgeous smile. "So I gotta ask. What's wrong with those peanuts?"

He points to the bowl not too far from where we're sitting. I just stare at him. How can he not know this? It's like bar survival 101.

"You know, studies have showed that very few people wash their hands after leaving a public bathroom," I start.

"So?" Edward Cullen looks confused. Confused and beautiful.

"Yeah, and when they grab a handful of peanuts they leave their nasty potty germs all over the bowl. Eating communal snacks is about as hygienic as licking the toilet bowl. How can you not know this?"
"Gross!" he practically yells and I start laughing.

God, it's nice to see him again, even though he has no idea who I am.

"Damn, that's disgusting," he mumbles. "I had no idea. Thank God I've never had any of those."

"How is that possible?"

The bartender brings us our beers and a brand new bag of peanuts, and Edward Cullen insists on paying for all of it, saying that I probably saved him from an e-coli infection. That sounds fair.

"Well," he says. "I haven't exactly been in a lot of bars where there are complimentary snacks on the tables."

"L.A.," he says, as an explanation. "Hollywood."

Right. Home of the young, beautiful and anorexic.

"Are you in the industry?" I ask.

He's beautiful enough to be on camera.

"No," he shakes his head. "I mean, I did some modeling to help with tuition during college."

I guess that makes sense. People in a no Starbucks town like Forks aren't exactly rolling in dough, not even Edward Cullen's father who was, and presumably still is, a genuine Norman-Rockwell-type country doctor who even goes on house calls. And from what I've heard, UCLA is pretty expensive.

"I was actually offered a part in a movie once, but I turned it down. It wasn't exactly the type of thing I would have been proud of," he continues.

"Porn?" I guess with a grin.

He laughs. Loud and boisterous. I see the women around the place glaring at me when they witness how easily I'm able to amuse the beautiful man next to me.

"No!" he exclaims, still chuckling. "B-type horror flick. I was supposed to play the shirtless guy who gets axed by the killer in the clown mask while making out with my blonde big-titted girlfriend in her parents' bedroom during a party."

"Wow, that's cliché with a side of stereotype and trite drizzled on top," I say, even though I would definitely watch anything that featured a shirtless Edward Cullen.

"Alas, that was as close to fame as I ever got," he says, feigning disappointment.

"What do you do, then?" I ask.

"Architect," he answers. "I was always good with numbers and drawing."

I remember.

"What do you do, B?" he asks.

"I'm a critic for the Seattle Times," I reply and take a sip of my beer.

"Wow," he says. "What kind? Food?"


Yeah, I eat for a living. Are you surprised?

"Only sometimes?"

I nod.

"It depends. Some days it's music, movies or books."

He doesn't seem to understand why.

"Hey, you're not in L.A. anymore, remember? There aren't enough restaurants here to fill my time."

"Right. Of course." He nods.

"So basically you know all the really good places to eat?"
"The really bad ones, too," I say with a grimace.

"And what to listen to, watch and read?"
"I'm just a fountain of knowledge."

He grins.

And I know you, Edward Cullen.

As the night progresses, I'm starting to doubt that statement. Edward Cullen is nothing like I thought he would be. He's better. I thought he would be quite cocky about his success as an architect, but he's rather humble and doesn't talk about his accomplishments, unless I specifically ask. I thought he would be a flirt, and while he definitely does that with me, he dismisses the few women who are brave enough to approach him the two times he leaves my side to go to the bathroom. I still don't know why he has chosen me over all the women in the joint, but I don't speculate about it. I just enjoy his company and try not to overthink this.

We drink more and we breach topics that don't usually belong with small talk. He turns wistful. He speaks about how he missed his home and his family, how life in L.A. was nothing but pretend and fake people. How he came to hate it there and finally decided to leave it all behind. Then he smiles again. He's so happy to be back in Washington. He is in this bar because his new office is located right across the street. It's a new beginning for him, he tells me.

I'm surprised by the fact that it's so easy to talk to him and I'm not nervous at all. At seventeen, I would probably have hyperventilated, then fainted, if Edward Cullen chose to spend an entire Saturday night with me, talking, sharing and laughing. For some unknown reason, it's beyond comfortable. He smiles and I smile. We toast to his return to the evergreen state, we toast to his new offices, we toast to my new apartment that I recently bought. We toast a lot, and drink even more, which probably explains why it takes both of us by surprise when the bartender announces last call. The bar has mostly emptied while we have been engrossed in conversation and it's getting ready to close.

We stand outside the bar; for the first time tonight, it's awkward between us.

"Well, I guess this is it," I say and wave my hand in the direction of my apartment.


I look up at him and it's there on his face like it's been written with a magic marker. Disappointment. He makes no effort to conceal it and it emboldens me. I am not ready for the night to be over either.

"Unless…" I trail off.

"Yes?" His face has lit up in a hopeful expression.

"We could go back to my place and have a drink or something?"

'Or something' means sex. Everyone knows that. Sometimes I wonder why people even bother to conceal it like that. But then again, I do it too. 'Wanna come back to my place and fuck?' is just too forward; I know I will never be the kind of girl to utter those words. It doesn't matter, either. He understands the implication.

"Really?" He's like an eager puppy and I stifle a laugh.

Edward Cullen isn't smooth at all. Not right now, anyway.

"I mean, yeah, I could go for another drink," he says, trying to act aloof.

I can see it in his eyes, though. The excitement. He wants this. Me. Edward Cullen wants me. I don't know why he does, when I am clearly not his type. I am not skinny, I am not tall, I don't have blond hair, but right now I don't care about his reasons for wanting me. I just know that he does; that's more than enough to give me long-forgotten butterflies in my stomach.

The heat between us is palpable when we reach my place and I close the door to the outside world that leaves us alone together. I'm alone in my apartment with a slightly inebriated Edward Cullen who has been checking me out all night and who turned out to be a great guy. There's no way in hell that I am letting this opportunity pass me by.

"This is the place," I say and motion to my new fantastic apartment complete with a working fireplace, hardwood floors and new…well, everything.

"It looks good," he says, not taking his eyes off me for even a second to look at the place.

Not that I mind, of course.

"Really good," he continues as his eyes move up and down the length of my body.

"Thanks," I whisper.

And then he is all over me. It happens so fast that I hardly register it, before his mouth is on mine and he's kissing me. There's no lead up to it. Just lips touching and warm breath mingling. It's heaven.

"I've wanted to do that from the moment I saw you," he rushes out before kissing me again.

Me too. For almost ten years I've wanted this.

He pushes his tongue between my lips and groans deep in his throat while his large hands grab my hips roughly and his fingers dig into my soft flesh with just a little more pressure than what's comfortable.


His hands leave my body the second he hears my whimper and he pulls back, his breathing harsh.

"Fuck! Sorry, I'm sorry, B."

He holds my face between my hands and looks down on me, eyes filled with remorse.

"You ok?" he asks softly.

I somehow refrain from melting into a pile of goo and nod my head.

"Sorry," he whispers again. "I didn't mean to grab you like that. Do you want me to leave?"

No way!

"No," I shake my head. "Just…a little softer, please."

But not too soft, though. I like it a little rough and I hope he does too.

"Like this?" he asks and leans down to brush his lips against mine.

His hands move to my hips again and he rubs them in gentle, soothing motions. He kisses me, this time slowly nudging my lips apart before deepening it. I touch his arms, feeling his strong muscles flex underneath his shirt.

"Yes, like this," I manage to say when his mouth trails feather-light kisses down my neck and his hands slide upward.

"And this?" he whispers and fiddles with the straps at my side holding my wrap dress together. "Is this ok?"

"God, you smell amazing," he says and inhales deep against the skin on my neck.

Suddenly, his fingers stop trying to untie my dress and he lifts his head to look at me.

"B?" he questions and I remember that I haven't actually said that he can undress me.

"Yes, please," I say.

He smiles. It's that beautiful smile that always made my knees weak when we were just kids. Its effect on me hasn't lessened over the years. His fingers tremble lightly as he undoes the knot holding my dress together and it falls open leaving half of my body exposed. It's obvious it's not the first time that Edward Cullen has come across a wrap dress, because he quickly finds the little bow on the other side and pulls it open as well. He pushes he fabric off my shoulders and the dress pools at my feet. I watch his lips part when he stares at my body clad in black lace. I had no intentions of hooking up tonight, but I like wearing sexy underwear beneath my fairly modest wardrobe and I'm extremely happy that I chose to wear my favorite bustier, which not only smoothes out my shape, but also looks fantastic with the matching panties.

"Holy fuck," Edward Cullen whispers and makes no effort to hide it when he reaches down and adjusts himself through his jeans.

My eyes dart to his crotch; watching how I've turned him on makes me all kinds of brave and brazen.

"Let me take care of that for you," I say, and before he can answer I drop to my knees in front of him.

My fingers go to his button fly immediately, but I stop when I feel his hands in my hair. He slowly takes my hair down, making it fall around my shoulders; he tilts my head up to look at him, when I reach out again to take his jeans off.

"No, don't," he whispers.


Edward Cullen just turned down a blowjob. Judging by the bulge in his pants, he is most definitely turned on and yet, he just said no, which is something that has never happened to me until just now. What guy doesn't want that? Does. Not. Compute.

"You don't like that?" I ask, incredulous.

He laughs.

"Of course I do," he says and lifts me off the floor. "But you shouldn't be on your knees, B. You shouldn't kneel to anyone."

Before I can answer he has me pressed against the wall, kissing me hungrily.

"You're a fucking goddess, beautiful," he whispers in my ear, before covering my neck with open-mouthed kisses.

His fingers go to the hooks that hold my bustier together and he pauses to look at me.

"I want to see you, all of you," he says. "Can I?"

I nod and smile. He opens it slowly, revealing my bare breasts and then my stomach. I know that I am probably a lot less toned than what he is used to, but I am proud of my body and let him look for as long as he wants. Instead of grabbing my chest as most guys do, Edward Cullen reaches out and touches my breasts ever so gently, with just the tips of his long elegant fingers. Then, he pushes them into his mouth and traces around my nipples with his now wet fingers, hardening them. A needy whimper escapes me when his thumbs make slow passes across them, teasing me and arousing me at the same time.

Finally his large hands cup my breasts and I thrust my chest forward in offering, wanting his touch desperately.

"Fuck," Edward Cullen groans. "You're so soft."

He lifts them slightly and watch fascinated as they bounce a little when he lets go.

"Natural," he murmurs. "Natural and perfect. God, I've missed that."

I want to say something clever about not needing implants, but my thoughts become incoherent when he dips his head down and takes my breast in his mouth. Not just my nipple, but as much of my breast as he can fit. His tongue swirls around it until he reaches the tip and gives me a not so gentle suck. My moan is throaty and deep, and my fingers tangle in the incredible soft mess that is Edward Cullen's hair. In high school, I always wondered what it might be like to stroke his hair; this is so much better than what my then innocent mind could conjure up.

"Your tits are amazing," he groans against me. "You have no idea. God, I just want to fuck them and come all over your face, you naughty girl."

Holy shit, the dirty talk!

Edward Cullen goes completely rigid the second the words leave his mouth. His hands are still clutching my sides and his breathing is shallow.

"B, I...fuck, I didn't mean that you…I don't…"

His voice is frantic but he doesn't let go of me, which I'm grateful for. I love his hands on me even more than his dirty mouth.

"Edward," I say softly and run my fingers through his hair.

"Please just…I don't know why I said that. I think you're wonderful and I made it sound like I think you're a..."

"Hey," I say and lift his head up. "Don't do that."

I stand up on my toes and kiss his lips gently.

"You didn't offend me," I assure him. "You turned me on."

He looks stunned for a moment, like he can't believe that I would like his words.

"Yeah?" he says with a crooked grin. "You didn't mind?"

"Why don't you see for yourself," I say and look down towards my panties for a second.

Edward Cullen has always been a smart guy and he knows what I'm saying.

"Fuck yes," he says and pulls my face to his.

His kiss is wild and unrestrained, as are his hands on my chest. Suddenly he whirls me around until I face the wall and he brushes my hair across my shoulder. I can feel his gaze on me and then his hands on my ass.

"Oh, yeah," he moans and kneads my cheeks none too gently. "Your ass…fuck, it's nice."

For a moment, I wonder if Edward Cullen wants to fuck that as well as my tits. I've never done that before, but I have the feeling that I would want to if he asked. I have a feeling that he could make me do all sorts of depraved things and I would love every second of it. I don't have time to speculate, because my thoughts are interrupted by a light slap on my right ass cheek. I hear his stuttering breaths behind me as his hand rests lightly on me. It's obvious that he's waiting for my response.

Edward Cullen has a naughty side to him!

I'm pretty thrilled that he isn't the straight-laced golden boy that he always appeared to be in high school. I like being a little adventurous in the bedroom as well. To show him my approval, I arch my back and stick my ass out towards him. His hands land on my hips as he presses himself against me. My breath hitches in my throat when I feel how hard and firm he is, nestled perfectly between my cheeks. He groans, rubbing his cock against me; his hand comes down on the side of my ass again, a little harder this time.

"Oh, yes," I moan and push back against him.

"Where the fuck did you come from, B?" he whispers huskily, and slides his hands up to caress my breasts. "Your face, your personality, your body. You're a wet dream. Fuck, I want you. Can I have you?"

"Yes!" I answer without hesitation. "Please, Edward. Please."

"Yeah, you want it, don't you?" he asks and spanks my ass a few more times to my delight. "My beautiful sexy, naughty girl."

And I do feel like I am his, at least for tonight. I have never been this turned on in my entire life and I am moments away from begging him to take me. He slides my panties down part of the way and then turns me around again before he drops to his knees in front of me to remove them altogether.

"You're perfect," he murmurs, and my knees almost buckle when he buries his nose in my pubic hair and inhales deeply.

"I'm so glad you're not completely bare," he says looking up at me. "I can't stand that shit."

I can't either. I've tried it once and it made me feel like a little girl down there. I'm a woman and I want to look like one.

"I want to kiss you here," he says and lifts my leg over his shoulder. "On your pretty little cunt."

As a rule, I don't like that word because it sounds crass, but the way he just said it, soft and reverent, makes me throb and yearn for his mouth on me. He looks up at me for permission; the smile I get when I nod is breathtaking. I feel his fingers spreading me; then his lips are on me. He really does kiss me there, right on my clit, before he starts with his tongue. He's tentative at first, gently probing and gauging my reactions to what he's doing. And what he's doing is fantastic. He pays attention to my sounds and seems to genuinely enjoy going down on me. He hums against me and nuzzles me sweetly, which more than makes up for the fact that his technique isn't flawless. It doesn't matter, because he's perfect and has these long fingers that he gently pushes inside me after a little while, adding to the pleasure I'm feeling. It doesn't take long before I'm calling out his name and I'm coming all over his mouth and fingers. It has always been easy for me to get orgasms and I know that I am lucky in that department, but this was just mind-blowing and I feel certain that Edward could make any woman come with his sweet attentions.

When I am able to open my eyes again, I find Edward staring at me with complete awe and adoration on his face. He makes no attempts to hide what he feels and I love that about him. Instead of pulling away, Edward lowers his mouth and laps at my wetness while gently nudging my clit with his nose, until I start getting worked up again. Then he stands and kisses me eagerly so that I can taste myself on his tongue.

"Thank you," I whisper. "That was incredible."

"It was amazing," he agrees. "Where's your bedroom, beautiful?"

I lead him down the hall, buck-naked and floating on the inside from the orgasm he just gave me. Edward, on the other hand, is still dressed and unsatisfied which seems terribly unfair to me. He agrees, because as soon as we enter, he starts to undress quickly. I take off my heels and then sit on the edge of the bed, leaning back on my hands and thrusting my chest forward to look the most alluring. It works, because Edward can't take his eyes off me and even stumbles a few times while his clothes come off. I admire his body too. He must work out and he is so broad and built that it makes me feel small and delicate, which I can assure you doesn't happen very often.

He walks over and stands in front of me, wearing only a pair of dark grey boxers. His fingers cradle my chin and, when he runs his thumb across my lips, I part them. Just because I can't help myself, I take it into my mouth and swirl my tongue around it, while letting out a soft moan. Transfixed, he stares at my mouth, pulling his thumb from between my lips; he doesn't protest when I pull his boxers down.

Oh, my. The locker room talk was true.

He isn't porn- star- huge but well above average, especially in girth. He's also so hard that the head of his cock almost touches his toned abdomen, quite a feat for a man closer to thirty than twenty, at least in my experience. Gravity is a bitch to all of us as we get older, but Edward's cock still defies it.

"What do you want?" I ask.

I'll give you anything and everything, Edward. Wait, when did I lose his last name? I can't remember.

He's Edward to me now. Not Edward Cullen, unattainable popular golden boy, but Edward, the hot and sweet man in front of me who is looking at me with awe.

"I want…" he hesitates and swallows. "I want to fuck your pretty mouth and come on your tits."

Now we're talking.

"Um, is that okay?" he asks, nervous again.

Edward is such a walking contradiction. One moment he's forceful and the next he's hesitant. I think he wants to take control, but for some reason he's worried about my reaction to both dirty talk and dirty deeds. There's definitely no need for that. I'm not a prude, but I suspect that at least some of Edward's past lays have been, which would explain his hesitance to just fuck me silly.

"It's more than okay," I whisper. "It's fucking hot."

"Yeah?" he says. "You want to suck my cock?"


I lean forward and grab a hold of his shaft to place a lingering open-mouthed kiss on his head, swirling my tongue around it.

"Fuuuuck!" Edward exhales and pushes his hips forward a little. "More, B. Please."

I'm happy to give him more and take him in as far as it can go without becoming uncomfortable. I'm also pleasantly surprised when, after just a few passes, Edward's confidence is beginning to show and he gently fists my long hair in his right hand, moving his hips in time with my mouth. He quickly becomes verbal.

"Your mouth, B…Fuck, it's so good!" he groans and thrusts a little harder.

I look up at him and he's staring straight at me with hooded dark eyes, breathing heavily through his parted lips. I give him a wink and add extra suction to what I'm doing.

"Oh! Fucking…yes! Suck me, beautiful. You're so good, so good…"

He's really fucking my mouth now, holding me in place with his hand in my hair. I reach up and caress his balls and stroke his perineum, which I know, from swapping war stories with my girlfriends, is a spot that most men love to have touched. Edward is no exception.

"Oh, you naughty girl," he moans and tightens his grip on my hair. "You love this, don't you? Getting your pretty mouth fucked. Spread your legs, B. Let me see you."

I happily comply and lift my left leg up and place my foot on the mattress, giving Edward a nice view.

"You're so wet, so ready for me. Do you want me to fuck you, beautiful? Fuck your tight little pussy?"

His words are driving me absolutely wild and I moan around him. Who knew that Edward was such a dirty talker? Or that it would turn me on so much?

Suddenly Edward's pace becomes frenzied and he cries out.

"Oh, B! It's too good…I can't…I'm…Ohhhh!"

He comes in my mouth in long thick spurts and I take him in deep to swallow without tasting because, let's face it, it doesn't exactly taste like chocolate. Still, I don't mind doing it; when I see the look of pure pleasure on Edward's beautiful face, it's definitely worth the slight soreness I feel in my jaw. I release him when he starts to soften and then move back on the bed. Edward follows and collapses next to me on the bedspread.

"Oh God, oh God. Amazing," he pants. "So amazing."

I can't contain my smile. I just made Edward Cullen come!

"Are you okay, B?" he asks after a few moments. "I didn't mean to do that. I mean, I was going to pull out, but it just felt so good and-"

"I'm great," I say honestly. "I really liked doing that."

"Even with all the stuff I said during?" he whispers.

"Yes, I liked that too," I answer.

"You're amazing," he says softly, as his hand crosses the space between us and starts to roam over me. "I want to make love to you, B. Can I?"

My stomach flutters like crazy and I know the answer with absolute certainty.


He lifts his head and looks at me. His eyes are so beautiful and his hair a gorgeous mess.

"Can I just hold you for a little while…first?" he asks.

I try not to look too shocked by his request.

He wants to cuddle? Before sex?

It's not that I mind, not at all, but usually men don't prefer that to having sex. I open my arms to him with a smile.

"God, I wish I had my camera," he murmurs and crawls over to me looking powerful and sexy with flexing muscles under his lightly tanned skin.

Part of me wants him to just pounce and take me already, but the content sigh he lets out when our naked bodies touch is so fantastic that I decide to let him determine how we will proceed. He holds me close, running his hands over my body and then tilts my face up for a kiss.

"Thank you," he says against my lips. "You have no idea how much I needed to meet you tonight. I'm so lucky that I get to spend the night with you. Even if I don't know your name."

I have no idea how to respond to his sweet words, because despite how far I've come since high school, I still feel like he's way out of my league and I'm the one who's lucky. I'm scared that if he knows who I am, if he remembers the awkward girl dressed in shapeless moomoos who was teased mercilessly, he won't look at me the same way. He won't want me like he does now. So I don't say anything, but simply smile and enjoy the moment and his adoring gaze before I make a quick trip to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I want to kiss Edward again and preferably without him tasting himself in my mouth. When I walk back into the bedroom he's still lying on the bed on his side, watching me intently.

"You're so beautiful, B," he whispers. "All of you."

I do a little twirl for him, buck-naked of course, and he laughs happily while reaching out for me. I join him on the bed and he rolls on top of me, keeping me in place. Not that I would ever want to leave.

"And you feel so good," he says, kissing my neck while the hand that isn't supporting his weight moves all over me; cupping my breast, squeezing my ass, gently caressing my full hips. "You're so soft everywhere and warm. There's so much of you. I love it."

Then it hits me like the proverbial ton of bricks: Edward has a thing for plus sizes!

I realize I haven't really allowed myself to believe his words when he has said that I'm beautiful. I've been with good-looking men before and I've won them over with my wit and humor. Most have accepted the way I look, but they have never really desired me because I am plus-sized, they have wanted me in spite of that. They have come to terms with it. Not Edward. He picked me out of all the women at the bar because I was the most beautiful in his eyes. It's a revelation.

I pull his face up to me and kiss him with all the passion I feel. He's pressed against me, hard and ready between my ample thighs and I want him. I want him so bad.

"Please. I want you inside me." Shameless, I beg him and move against him.

He looks at me, his eyes wild with lust; he nods breathlessly.

"Do we need?" he motions to his cock.

"I'm covered."

"I am too," he replies. "Um, not like you, of course, but I've been tested."

"Yeah, me too. We don't need anything."
"Thank fuck," he says and reaches down between us to position himself.

But then he hesitates and looks back up, meeting my eyes.

"Are you sure, B?"

"I'm sure," I whisper and hold his face between my hands.

How can he have so much tenderness in his eyes when we've just met? He looks at me like he's in love with me, but that's just crazy. Love at first sight is for kids; it's not real anyway. It's just lust and hormones and fantasies. I loved Edward Cullen, the star quarterback, Forks' golden boy, without knowing him at all; looking back on it as an adult, I can see how moonstruck I was. It wasn't real.

But this. Now. Edward and I together in my bed. His hands on me, his eyes on me. He sees me and he likes what he sees. This is real. I stop denying that I feel it too, what his eyes are saying.

I'm in love with him. It's crazy and wonderful and unbelievable, but I feel it. I guess I haven't changed much since high school after all. I'm in love with Edward. And this time I know him. Not well, but enough to know that I want him in my life after tonight. I hope he wants that too.

He smiles softly and caresses my face.

"I want you," he says and slowly sinks into me.

He fills me so well that I have to struggle not to close my eyes because I want to see him. His brow is furrowed and his lips are parted. His breaths are coming out in short bursts and he's completely still. He's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"Oh God," he whispers. "You feel so amazing."

He bends down and kisses me deeply before he starts moving, agonizingly slow. I moan when he thrusts a little harder and grip his shoulders. I feel him push hard on the mattress; suddenly we're rolling over and I'm on top.

"Ride me, beautiful," he whispers. "I want to see you."

I smile and kiss him before sitting up. His hands go to my waist and I start moving against him. It's so good. He's in so deep. I lift myself up and shift my hips a little, moving over just the head of his cock a few times before I sink down and take all of him inside.

"Oh fuck!" he moans loudly, his eyes going wide.

I ride him faster and he pushes up to meet me each time. Then, he sits up and crashes his lips against mine. It's so consuming that I forget to move and we just kiss and kiss and kiss until we have to pull away for air. We stare at each other for the longest time; finally, I remember what we're doing and start rotating my hips. I lean back on my hands that are resting on his thighs and arch my back while tilting my head back. I feel his eyes on me, then his hands, cupping my breasts and lifting them slightly before his wet tongue is caressing my nipples in turn. My body takes over, grinding and moving against him. He's in me, all around me. I hear his voice, feel his touch, taste him on my tongue. He's everywhere.

Edward, Edward, Edward.

I realize that I'm chanting his name out loud and he likes it a lot.

"B…fuck. I need you to, I'm gonna…It's so good, I can't stop…"

I know that he's close and ride him for all I'm worth. He shouts out and flops back against the pillows, grasping my hips.

"Please, B. Please! What's your name?" he begs. "Please tell me!"


It comes out in a moan as my orgasm descends on me and I come all around him. It's glorious and my muscles clench over and over again until my whole body shakes and tingles with pleasure.

"Bella! Bella! Oh, Bella!" he shouts and I feel him twitch inside me as he climaxes as well.

I collapse on his chest, breathing heavily. He wraps his arms around me.

"Bella, beautiful Bella," he says softly, when he has caught his breath.

I lift my head and look at him, torn between wanting him to recognize me and the exact opposite. He doesn't. He smiles and caresses my cheek.

"I'm sorry I couldn't last longer," he says. "I haven't had sex in a long time. I hope I didn't disappoint you?"

He hasn't has sex in a long time? How on earth did that happen?

I decide not to ask unless he wants to tell me, but it's pretty obvious that Edward isn't the player I imagined him to be when he first entered the bar.

"My ex," he says. "We didn't…for a long time before we split, and I haven't been with anyone since. That's why I finished so quickly."

"You didn't," I assure him. "It was wonderful. All of it."

"Did you come?" he asks, looking hopeful. "I wasn't really able to pay attention…"

"I did," I say with a smile that he returns immediately.

"Thank God," he says. "I was starting to worry that I wouldn't be able to make you…Tanya always complained…You know what, never mind. I'm sorry. You don't have to hear that."

He closes his eyes, holds me closer and sighs. It's a happy sound but I can't fully appreciate it because my mind is reeling: Tanya? Tanya No Tits is the ex he didn't have sex with for a long time? Have they been together all this time? Ever since high school? But if Edward likes girls who look like me, why has he been with her for so long? Am I the first plus-sized girl he has ever been with?

And if they have been together since high school, they presumably lived together and everything. Holy shit.

"Edward? Do you have kids?" I blurt out. "With your ex, I mean."

I have to ask. He could easily have at least one. We're at that age.

"No, thank God," he says and strokes my hair.

My heart sinks.

Not a fan of children - pretty much a deal-breaker for me.

"Wait, that came out wrong," he says. "I love kids, I'm just glad I didn't have any with her."

"Bad break-up?" I ask, secretly thrilled that Edward does want children.

"Bad relationship," he answers. "At the end, I couldn't even recognize her. She fell for all that Hollywood bullshit and, just because I designed a few houses for celebrities, she thought we should act like them too. Personal trainer, boob job, fucking botox, even. I wasn't allowed to have any real food in the house except for what made up the latest diet trend. All she talked about were shallow things like clothes and gossip. I couldn't stand it. I didn't want to touch her. She was just…fake all over."

He sighs.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I shouldn't have said all that. It's over and done with. Thank God. Now I just want to be happy again, you know?"

His hands move over me with more purpose, gently kneading my ass while moving me against him.

"What would make you happy?" I ask with a smile, even though I already have a pretty good idea.

"Ice cream," he answers with a grin.

Ice cream? What the-?

It's not that I don't like ice cream, because I sure as hell do, but I was hoping for another round of sex.

"I bet you have some of the good stuff, not that soy shit," he continues.

"Yeah," I admit.

"Go get it," he says. "Then I'm going to eat if off your beautiful body. I've always wanted to do that!"

Oh, my!

"Is that so?" I ask.

"Yeah, and then I'm going to fuck you," he announces, looking all proud and happy. "I mean, that is…if you want to again."

"I do," I say with a grin.

"You're amazing," he whispers, for something like the tenth time. Not that I mind at all.

"So are you," I whisper back and kiss him slowly and gently before I sit up to leave the bed.

"Hurry back, beautiful," he says and gives my ass a playful swat.

I laugh at him over my shoulder and, after a quick trip to the bathroom, I walk to the kitchen, barefoot and deliriously happy. After finding a pint of caramel sutra, which is entirely appropriate for the occasion, I take a few moments to collect my thoughts. I still can't believe that I just had sex with Edward! Or that he turned out to be a completely fantastic person as well as one hell of a lover.

What was Tanya No Tits…Err…Fake Tits, thinking when she basically drove him away? Eh. Her loss, my gain.

I do feel bad that Edward was in such a crappy relationship for so long. It would explain why he was so nervous to approach me at the bar tonight, if it's the first time he's single since…well, forever. He has probably never picked up a woman in his life.

Oh fuck. I hope I'm not just a rebound to him.

I push the thought away because I won't even consider it. Edward doesn't strike me as that type of guy. I mean, he stayed faithful to his girlfriend even when they didn't have sex for a long time and I have to commend him for that. A lot of guys would have strayed in that situation. And he's definitely a sexually adventurous person. He has just been repressed for years. I can't wait to see what else he wants to try!

As I walk back to my bedroom carrying the pint and two spoons, I can't contain the smile on my face. When have I ever felt like this before, all a-flutter with excitement and happiness? Never, not even in high school.

Edward is perusing my books when I walk in and he smiles sheepishly on seeing me.

"Sorry, I got curious and couldn't resist," he says. "You have great taste, no wonder they hired you to be a critic even if it's only books sometimes."

"Thanks, I love reading," I reply and place the ice cream and spoons on the nightstand.

"Yeah, me too," Edward says, still looking at the books. "I just don't have a lot of – hey! I know her!"

Oh fuck! Ohfuckohfuckohfuck!

Edward has noticed the picture on top of the shelf and is grinning widely.

"That's Alice…uh…Brandon! Yeah, Alice Brandon. I went to high school with her. She was in a lot of my classes."

He smiles brightly at me and, before I can say something, he looks at the picture again.

"How do you know…"

Oh shit! Ohshitohshitohshit!

He just noticed the other girl in the picture, the one shying away from the camera and trying to hide behind tiny Alice to no avail. The picture is from graduation and we're both wearing gowns and caps. Edward isn't stupid. He can see that it's taken in Forks, right outside the school.

"Bella," he says and looks at me, then at the picture again.

"Bella, Isabella. It's you. You're Isabella Swan, the Chief's daughter."

Of course he would remember me as Isabella, my official name. Only my friends called me Bella and Edward was definitely not included in that very small group.

"And you're Edward Cullen," I say. "This is like the best high school reunion ever, huh?"

Fucking fuck! Why do I keep that stupid picture anyway?

"Wow," he says softly. "It's really you. I remember you a little."

I look up.

"You do?"

"Yeah. I felt bad that you had that back problem," he says and hunches over like I used to do back then.

I snort. Loud and charmless.

"What?" Edward looks slightly amused, which is fantastic, because I thought he would be angry with me at this point. Angry for hiding who I am.

"I didn't have a back problem, Edward. I walked like that to hide my tits."

"Why would you want to do that?" he asks, with a small frown. "They're beautiful."

"Yeah, well. They didn't seem so beautiful when I was called a fat cow with udders right to my face after P.E.," I snap, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice.

How can it still sting after all these years?

Sticks and stones, my ass. Words hurt.


Yeah. Oh. Now he sees me like they did, and maybe even still do. The situation is beyond awkward; we're both naked, we have ice cream melting on my nightstand that we were going to eat while having sex and I just feel like a complete fool now; utterly exposed under his gaze, which I refuse to meet. I reach for my robe that's still hanging off the footboard where I threw it after I showered earlier tonight.

"No, please don't," Edward says imploringly. "I'm sorry, I should have realized…"

He doesn't finish the sentence and he doesn't have to. He knows how the social outcasts were treated at Forks High even though he never did any of the bullying himself.

"Hey, you know what else I remember about you?"


God, my voice sounds dull and hollow. What happened to spunky Bella? Heh, spunk. Oh, there she is.

"Your hair."

"My hair?"

"I noticed it. I thought you had the most beautiful hair. It was hard to miss because every time I looked at you to see your face it was always hidden behind your hair."

I feel his hands then, in my hair, pushing it back over my shoulders. I haven't noticed him walking over to me.

"Don't hide from me," he says softly and tilts my head up until I'm looking straight at him.

He looks the same as before; still beautiful, with those eyes that say things they shouldn't be able to this soon.

"B…Bella. Why didn't you just tell me who you were when I came up to you at the bar?" he asks.

"Come on, Edward," I scoff. "Would you have come back here with me if you knew? If you knew that you were talking to the fat kid?"

"You are not fat!" he says firmly.

"I know," I nod my head, because I'm really not. My BMI says I'm overweight but Dr. Gerandy assures me that it doesn't take things like body type into consideration. I'm healthy as a horse, one of those big shire horses, but still. Gerandy says that I have a voluptuous body type and that my weight is just fine. Personally, I just think that the old coot likes tits and ass on a girl but it's reassuring nonetheless.

"I wasn't fat back then either but most of them still…well, I'm sure you remember," I say.

"They were idiots," he says and caresses my cheeks, holding my face between his hands. "I was an idiot. I liked you, Bella."

"You did?"

"Yeah, I mean as much as you can like someone you've never even talked to, or really seen. I only saw your face a handful of times and your picture isn't in the yearbook. I guess I forgot your face over the years."

He looks apologetic.

"You looked for me in the yearbook?" I ask, incredulous.

"I did. I didn't forget you, not really," he says. "The way you look…That's what I've always fantasized about."

His hands move down my body and he steps closer.

"Soft and warm and natural," he whispers and pulls me flush against him. "I wasn't kidding when I said that you are a wet dream."

We fit together perfectly somehow. He's tall with broad shoulders and slender hips and I'm the exact opposite; short with small shoulders but wide hips. His body is hard, mine is soft. We're complete opposites but somehow it's a perfect fit.

"I think you're wonderful," he says. "You're the most beautiful, sexy, smart woman I've ever met."

"Edward, that's…"

I have no idea what to say.

"God's honest truth," he finishes for me.

"You don't care what your friends might think?" I ask. "Tyler, Mike, James?"

"Bella!" he laughs. "I haven't talked to those guys in years. High school really wasn't as great for me as you might think."

I raise an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I was popular and stuff. Whatever. I dated the head cheerleader because everyone expected me to. It wasn't all bad. I got the scholarship and Tanya went with me, but I wasn't ever really happy with her, even if we looked like the perfect couple."

He lowers me gently onto the bed and hovers above me.

"The truth is that we hardly ever made love and I spent most nights at home either working or jacking off to fantasies in my head while she was out partying or getting something peeled or waxed."

He smiles sadly.

"Now, does that sound so great to you?"
I shake my head, because that sounds just awful.

"I'm sorry," I say sincerely.

"Don't be. It's in the past. I'm back home now, I'm excited about being near my family again and starting my own firm."

He kisses me gently.

"And I'm really happy that I met you, Bella. I don't want to sound trite but…tonight has pretty much been the best night of my life."

Just like that, I'm all a-flutter with happiness again. He's still that guy whose smile can light up the whole room, but now the smile is just for me.

"For me too," I whisper. "I knew who you were right away. I never forgot you either, Edward. I liked you back then…a lot. And I've looked at your yearbook picture lots of times."

That's all I'm willing to divulge tonight. I just hope that he doesn't ask to sign it or something, since his picture is surrounded by pink hearts that I have drawn.

"And now we're here," he says.

I nod.

"What happens now?" I ask.

"Well," he grins. "I believe I have some ice cream to eat, Isabella."

"Ugh, don't call me Isabella. It makes me think I'm in trouble."

"You are."

"I am?"

"Mmm," he hums and reaches for the pint. "You've been a very, very naughty girl keeping your identity from me all night. I think you need to be punished."

My body flushes with excitement. A punishment from Edward. This should be good. I lick my lips and watch as he opens the ice cream, sitting cross-legged and unembarrassed by his nudity.

"How are you going to punish me?"I sound breathless already.

He dips the spoon in the ice cream and flashes me a sweet smile.

"Do you have anything I can use to tie you up with?" he asks with just a hint of hesitancy.

"I have handcuffs," I say immediately and motion to my 'goodie drawer' in the nightstand. Yes, I like 'Sex and the City' even though I couldn't possibly wear any of their size zero designer clothes.

Edward's eyes light up and I can't help but notice that he's getting excited in other places as well.

"You dirty girl," he practically purrs. "Get your handcuffs."

I retrieve them immediately and I hear a soft groan behind me when I kneel on the bed and bend over to reach for the drawer.

"What are you going to do to me?" I ask as I hand him the handcuffs.

I bet he can tell how excited I am. He grins and eats a spoonful of ice cream, moaning loudly when the creamy goodness hits his taste buds.

"The worst possible punishment I can think of," he says, looking stern. Stern and hot. "I'm going to cuff you to the bed…"

"Yes?" I practically squeak.

"And then…"


Oh, please say that you'll spank me! And then you'll soothe my warm ass with the ice cream! Wow, I've really thought this through.

"I'm going to eat this ice cream all by myself while you just sit there and watch!" he laughs.

He tricked me. Son of a…!

"Give me that!" I yell and launch myself onto him to grab the pint. "You don't deserve this, you tease!"

Edward laughs and laughs as we play fight. It's such a beautiful sound that I almost forget what a dirty rotten tease he is and that I need to kick his ass. Suddenly, he smears a large scoop on my tits, making me shriek and try to scramble away, until Edward pulls me back and tickles me without mercy.

We roll around on the bed, getting ice cream everywhere. I laugh like I've never laughed before. He traps me underneath him, pinning my hands to the bedspread and starts licking and sucking on my chest, neck until he finally kisses me. I can taste the ice cream on his cool tongue and I feel his hard cock pressing against my thigh. He lifts his head up and looks at me, his eyes still bright with amusement.

"Bella," he says. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

I take a chance. I didn't have the guts to ever do this in high school but now I do.

"I'm showing you around the city and then out to dinner?"
"Amazing," he whispers, wrapping his arms around me and kissing me.

I don't know if he's referring to our date tomorrow or the way I look. It doesn't matter at all. We're naked and messy and happy, and Edward is looking at me with those eyes that say it all. We have a date for tomorrow. And tonight there's ice cream and handcuffs and a shared warm shower afterwards. And then there's falling asleep in his warm embrace feeling happy and content. Even though it doesn't make any sense at my age, I'm in love again and I think Edward is too. It's amazing.

"Amazing," Edward moans the next morning when he tastes my pancakes and looks adoringly at me, wearing nothing but an apron in the kitchen.

"Amazing," he groans twenty minutes later when he's bending me over the kitchen counter and I'm coming all around him.

"Amazing," he says reverently one year later when he lifts my veil in front of our family and friends.

"Amazing," he whispers two years later when he holds our newborn daughter for the first time.

And I agree. It's amazing. Our love, our life together: It's all so amazing.

The end.

There's a picture on my Facebook profile (Sheviking Fanfiction) of the Bella I imagined for this story if you want a visual. Obviously, it's not Kristen Stewart.

Thank you to LaMomo, my one time beta, for correcting all my mistakes and making this a smooth read.

Please leave a review, tell me what you think, and help me wish Melanie a happy birthday. :)