Be Careful What You Wish For Chapter 7 - Run Like Hell

A note on the timeline: Chapters 5 through 7 all overlap. Chapter 5 was Charlie's POV and included the week following Bella's move to her first two days of school (Thursday and Friday). Chapter 6 was Edward's POV and included his observations of that Thursday. This chapter is Bella's POV of that Friday, which is when Carlisle moves back in.

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BPOV

The sky outside my truck window was a dingy gray like ratty old underwear, and the rain splattering on the windshield didn't do much to improve the image. Still, it couldn't touch my mood.

The stereo in the truck was a piece of shit – a radio in name only – but I was humming along to the sound of the Rolling Stones pouring through my iPod headphones. For the first time since I'd arrived in the hell known as Forks and found out my father's secret, I felt…happy. Hopeful.

Like maybe I would wake up from this nightmare and find life again.

And I had to admit that it had a hell of a lot to do with the people I'd met yesterday, the same ones I was looking forward to seeing right now.

I stopped at the stop sign at the end of the street and took a second to zip up my hoodie. It was forty-four degrees outside – fucking freezing – and I had yet to do the shopping I'd planned to during my few days off from school, which left me with limited wardrobe options. The situation with Charlie had turned me into a much more whiny, listless person than I usually was, and I was beginning to hate it.

Thankfully, meeting Edward, Jasper, and Emmett yesterday had helped with that situation. Emmett was in my first period Trig class, so I knew I'd see him right away, which was fortunate because Mike Newton was in the class with us. He'd been the first person I met yesterday, mostly because he was hovering over my desk before I'd even had a chance to sit down. He'd seemed nice enough, I guess, in an annoying, lost puppy sort of way, but as the day wore on, he'd just gotten on my nerves more and more.

Especially when he started talking shit about people.

And then I'd met the subject of said shit-talking, who turned out to be far cooler than Mike motherfucking Newton ever would be.

I turned left onto the school's street with a stupid smile on my face as I thought about my first glimpse of Edward Masen.

I turned the corner onto what I hoped was the right hallway and glanced up from my schedule to see a fucking gorgeous boy walking by. He had a broody pout on his lips, and he was ignoring absolutely everyone around him. He walked with confidence, like he was daring anybody to say anything to him.

No one did.

I stared after him for just a second until the bell rang, startling me into motion again. I hated this - hated being the new kid in a school this tiny. I never liked being the center of attention, but there was no avoiding it here.

Taking another look around, I spotted my classroom and ducked inside, scanning the room to find an empty desk.

As soon as I sat down, a decent-looking blond guy sat on the corner of my desk like he owned it. His ass landed on the sketchpad I'd just set down, and I jerked it away in annoyance, smoothing the ruffled pages while he introduced himself. He didn't even have the decency to apologize; he just droned on about how happy he'd be to show me around.

"Job's filled, Newton," said a deep voice behind me. "Sorry."

I turned to see a guy with shoulders wider than his desk leaning back in his chair. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he wore a cute grin that gave him dimples. When he caught me looking, he winked at me, and said, "I already told Bella I'd give her the grand tour. Right, Bella?"

"Absolutely," I said gratefully, mouthing, "Thank you," over my shoulder. His grin broadened, and I was about to start talking to him when I felt that idiot tap me on the shoulder.

"Well, since Emmett has you today at school, how about I have you tomorrow night?"

I gaped at him. Did he seriously just say what I think he said?

He noticed my expression, and his eyes widened as he started backtracking. "I mean…can I take you to dinner tomorrow? That's all."

I frowned at him, trying to decide if he was a prick or just stupid – or possibly both – but class started before I could say anything else. I couldn't decide if I was the one who'd been saved…or if he was.

Emmett had acted like we were old friends, talking and joking and occasionally slipping me notes, and I found myself feeling completely comfortable with him. He was totally not my type – in fact, he wasn't even the type of guy I was usually friends with – but he was a hell of a lot smarter than he looked, and I really liked him.

I pulled into the school parking lot and turned off my truck, running my fingers through my hair as I glanced around. I didn't see Edward's car yet, and I tried to fight back the weird feeling of disappointment. I couldn't deny that I was attracted to him, and I'd wanted to scream when he'd told me he really had been caught under the bleachers with his boyfriend.

But then he'd let me know there was hope.

I grinned as I got out of the truck, but my smile immediately fell into a grimace at the rain soaking my hair. I pulled my hood up and slung my backpack over my shoulder, leaving my earbuds in as I slammed the truck door and made my way straight into the building.

When I got to Trig, I bit my lip to stop myself from saying something rude – and completely deserved – to Mike, who was again sitting on the corner of my desk. Jessica Stanley had moved to sit right beside me, and it was only the sight of Emmett behind my empty seat that kept me from turning around and walking right back out.

I endured a few minutes of small talk with Mike and Jessica, mostly by opening my sketchbook and keeping myself occupied while Jessica fawned all over Mike and I tried not to gag. It hadn't taken me long to figure out that Jessica was the Charlotte of Forks. She was nice enough, but she was shallow, and we didn't really have a lot in common. I doubted she had any sort of real interests of her own, other than guys; it was easy to see in her eyes that she'd stab me in the back in a second if it meant she'd get Mike.

As far as I was concerned, she could have him whenever she wanted.

Emmett leaned forward and brushed my hair back over my shoulder so he could see my paper more clearly.

"That's pretty fucking cool," he said simply. "Who is it?"

I heard Mike stop mid-sentence and bit back my grin. We ignored him completely while I showed Emmett the drawing I'd started. It was supposed to be Peter, sketched from behind with the desert stretching out in front of him, though I told Emmett it was just a guy. I'd barely gotten started, so it was only a rough outline, but to be completely honest, while Peter was theoretically the model, he wasn't really the one I was thinking of…Jasper was.

I felt the heat on my cheeks that meant I was blushing and tried to make it go away. Emmett was nodding as he studied the picture, and then he grinned. "Draw more," he commanded.

I laughed, shaking my head at him, but I did as he asked. While I drew, I thought, and I was only vaguely aware of class starting around me as I remembered meeting Jasper in the cafeteria the day before.

He'd reminded me of Peter right away, with that messy blond hair and the laid-back attitude. He took up for Edward, even against Emmett's joking, and I respected the quiet strength he had. Didn't hurt that he was at least as beautiful as Edward, even if it was in a different way. He was a little rougher somehow, a little bigger, and he had a smile that made my pulse quicken and my thighs quiver.

My chair lurched, bringing me out of my thoughts of Jasper, and I realized Emmett had kicked it just as Mr. Varner started making his rounds to see if we were working. I snapped my sketchbook closed, pulled out a piece of paper, and started the monotonous page of problems he'd assigned.

By the time class ended, my hand was cramping and I was annoyed. Emmett walked down the hall with me as I tried to make my escape, but it was no good – Jessica was in my second period Keyboarding class. She sat down beside me and started chattering away, and I pulled out the nod-and-say-wow strategy that worked so well with Charlotte.

It worked, but her babble about Mike and some guy named Tyler was nauseating. We were supposed to be typing some mindless letter from the books set up on our stands, so I tried to pretend I was struggling and concentrating on the words. It made no difference. I seriously doubted Jessica even noticed, so I tuned her out.

Right up until I heard her mention Edward.

Without even thinking about what I was doing, I stopped typing and turned my chair toward her. She was thrilled with my heightened attention, and I guess she thought I wanted the "dirt" on him because she immediately started talking about how gorgeous he was.

"And I know you haven't seen him in a track uniform but oh. My. God. You have no idea. His thighs are…" Her voice droned on, and I felt a smile tugging at the corner of my lips as I imagined what he might look like from her descriptions. She exaggerated, of course – I wouldn't have expected anything else – but I had to admit that the images were intriguing.

"It's really too bad he's into guys," Jessica's nasally voice broke in. "What a waste."

I bit my bottom lip, turning back to type more as I thought, If you only knew… I'd wondered yesterday why Edward didn't just set people straight, but after dealing with Jessica and Mike and some of the other idiots who'd expressed their opinions on Edward, I thought I understood. They likely wouldn't believe him, for one thing – and I thought I knew Edward well enough already to know that he would die before he'd let them think they were getting to him.

If he wasn't letting Jessica in on his sexual orientation, I was all for that plan, and I wasn't going to say one goddamn word to her about it. As she went on, though, she started talking more and more about how "fucked up" he was. By the time she said, "I never would've known he was such a freak. Before all this, I mean. He always seemed alright, but then to find out he likes to…" she trailed off and leaned over, whispering, "suck dick…it's just so sad, you know?"

"Why the hell is that sad?" I hissed indignantly. The sympathy in her eyes was so fucking fake that I wanted to slap her.

"Oh!" Her eyes widened as she covered her mouth, and the false note was still in her voice as she said, "I'm sorry. I forgot."

My eyes narrowed as my jaw clenched. "Forgot what?"

"That…" She leaned in once more to murmur, "That, you know…your dad…"

"No, I don't know," I said tightly. "Care to explain?"

"I didn't mean anything by it!" She held he hands up like she was offering a truce, showing me she was carrying no weapons, but the reminder of the lie was enough to cut me. "I just meant that you have…a…a different perspective. That's all."

I didn't answer. I turned back to my computer, and she was mercifully silent for the rest of class. As soon as the bell rang, she turned to me and said, "Hey, Bella? I'm sorry."

For once, there was something genuine in her tone, and I sighed in the middle of putting my backpack over my shoulder. "Yeah, whatever. It's fine," I mumbled and then pushed past her into the hallway.

I was sort of proud of myself for making it out of class without hitting her, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I entered the sanctity of my Latin class. Jessica had acted appalled when I told her Latin was my foreign language – apparently only nerds took Latin, and judging from the seven other students in the class, hers must've been a common sentiment.

I spotted Angela in the corner just as she saw me. She waved with a shy smile, and I walked right over to her. "Hey! I didn't know you were in here!"

She grinned and shrugged. "I'm usually pretty quiet."

"You were here yesterday?" She nodded, and I said, "Oh, sorry. I guess I was a little distracted…"

"It has to be so hard starting a new school in the middle of the year. Too many new faces. I wouldn't know what to do."

I smiled at the genuine concern in her voice. It was such a change of pace from Jessica, and we fell into easy conversation as we waited the few minutes for class to start. When it did, we didn't have to pause our conversation for long because we were given an assignment to translate a letter from Latin to English, and we were allowed to work in partners. I assumed Angela and I would be working together, but she seemed surprised when I took out paper and wrote down both our names.

I glossed over it, noticing the happy smile on her face, and I wondered if people like Jessica made her life hell the way they tried to make Edward's. I frowned at the thought, especially as the class went on and we talked about everything. Zombie movies somehow led into Southern literature, and it was as Angela was telling me that I really needed to read Their Eyes Were Watching God that I realized she was…a freak.

Like me.

I grinned at the thought. Angela was an aberration – a combination of funny and nice and cool and girl that just doesn't occur often in nature. I really hadn't ever met anyone quite like her, and I found myself hoping that we would become good friends.

Our heads were bent in concentration, our books and dictionaries spread out all around us, and we were working so hard that we didn't even realize it was time for class to end. I jumped when the bell rang, and she smiled at me quietly as she helped clean everything up. Soon, my belongings were stuffed into my backpack, and I was brushing my hair out of my eyes.

"See you at lunch?" she asked a little timidly.

I flashed her a genuine smile and said, "You know it." Suddenly curious, I pulled my hair out from under the strap of my bag and paused. "Oh, hey…does that blond guy usually sit with you?"

As if you don't know his name…

I tried to keep the lie out of my eyes as she answered, "Blond guy… Jasper?"

"Jasper…yeah, think that's it."

Pathetic, Swan.

"Yeah, Jasper usually sits with us. Why's that?"

"He's just the only one I don't have any classes with…"

And I think he's fucking gorgeous, I added to myself as Angela and I walked out of the room. She stayed with me until we got to the Biology lab, and then she peered around me before looking back up with a grin. "I think Edward's waiting for you," was all she said before continuing on her way with a, "See you in an hour!"

I bit my bottom lip as I watched her walk away and then took a deep breath before turning in the door. Idiot Newton still hadn't caught on, apparently, as he tried to wave me over. I ignored him, heading straight toward my seat…and Edward. As I got closer, though, I tripped over Edward's backpack on the floor and nearly fell flat on my face. He hopped up quicker than I thought possible and caught me by the arm, laughing his ass off as he helped me to my seat.

I punched his shoulder and glowered at him. He just laughed harder, putting his hands up in front of his face to keep me from hitting him again.

"Asshole," I muttered under my breath, but his laughter was infectious, and I found myself giggling with him.

He calmed down, clearing his throat before saying, "Sorry about that…the look on your face was funny as shit."

I tried to be pissed off at him, but the grin he was wearing and the cocked eyebrow and the deep music of his voice mellowed me out a bit. My brilliant reply was, "Yeah, well, some dickhead left his bag in the middle of the aisle."

"Inconsiderate bastard," he said with an infuriating grin.

I rolled my eyes, fighting my smile as I dropped my own bag to the floor and unzipped it, pulling out my notebook and sketchpad. Even through my hoodie, I could feel the warmth of his fingers as they wrapped around my forearm. He leaned toward me, and I shifted closer, our bowed heads nearly touching as he whispered, "Seriously, I'm sorry. I don't usually…I mean…" He paused for a moment as if debating how to phrase something, and his voice was breathless and light when he said, "I don't really have to deal with people coming too close normally, you know?"

My throat constricted and my fingers tightened on my notebook. I felt for him, for his fucked up situation, but he'd made it clear that my pity was not something he wanted. I schooled my face before pulling away so I could see him. I nodded, and he nodded in return, giving me a small smile.

"Let me see," he demanded.

"See what?" I frowned at him.

He didn't answer. He just rolled his eyes and reached out, taking the sketchpad from me. He ignored my protests as he flipped open the cover, but when I didn't stop, he grumbled, "Jesus fucking Christ, Swan. Calm the fuck down."

He reached beside his chair, my sketches still firmly in his hand, but when he straightened again, I shut up at once. He handed me his own sketchbook, the cover bent and worn, and I sat back in my chair, exhaling loudly.

I sure as hell hadn't expected that one; I wasn't about to complain, though. Mr. Banner walked to the front of the room and began lecturing, but I didn't hear a word. My attention was focused entirely on the treasure in my hand, the book of pages filled with drawings. White space was rare, as each inch was filled with something – even if it was just cross-hatching or experiments with shading, Edward made full use of the space available to him.

I found random eyes and lips and hands scattered in pictures of objects. Edward didn't seem to draw landscapes the way I did. Rather, he picked a particular point – one thing that caught his attention – and he sketched it from every angle. There were imaginative elements, things that couldn't possibly be, but it was all grounded in reality.

His art was stunning, and I found myself flipping through the pages reverently. From time to time, I heard Mr. Banner's droning voice, but he never called my name, and I never looked up. Edward was at my side, and I could hear papers rustling from time to time, but I didn't look over at him either.

He put my sketchbook down at long last, but I wasn't finished with his, so I kept going. It wasn't until I felt his elbow nudging mine that I finally cut my eyes at him. He was wearing a perplexed look, his lips in a thin line, and I frowned, turning to face him.

"What?"

"We have an assignment," he answered, nodding at his open Biology book and the notebook on his desk. That didn't seem to be the source of his odd mood, though, so I closed his sketchpad and handed it back, determined to figure it out.

I noticed that my book was still open, lying to the side. "What's up with you?" I asked.

He shook his head, moving his textbook to sit in the middle of our table so we could both see it. We worked in silence for a few minutes after he told me what we were supposed to do, and I could feel my jaw clenching. I didn't like the way he was ignoring whatever was bothering him, but I just didn't know him well enough to demand he tell me.

Or did I?

God knows he would've demanded to know what my problem was.

Too bad you're more of a chickenshit than he is.

I opened my mouth to speak and closed it again, realizing it was true. It would've been one thing if we were out in the parking lot, in the relative sanctity of my truck bed. It was kind of amazing, really, how in one afternoon, that had become a place of safety, but it just…had. I wished we were there now.

But as it was, I could feel the eyes watching us, sense every glance – furtive and obvious – that came our way as we worked together. Yesterday, I'd seen the looks of sympathy when I'd been paired with Edward. Seen, but hadn't understood.

Today, I saw them. I understood them. And they pissed me the fuck off.

I wasn't going to put him through further scrutiny, though. If he didn't want to talk about whatever was bothering him here, then…fine. I could wait.

Sort of.

I ripped the corner off his notebook paper, and he frowned at me. I pursed my lips and raised one eyebrow, daring him to say something; a little smile flitted across his lips as he shook his head and went back to work.

You will tell me what's up. This afternoon. My truck, I scribbled on the scrap and pushed it toward him. His forehead wrinkled as he tilted his head, trying to read it. I watched as his nostrils flared and he rolled his eyes, resting his forearm over it as he went back to writing.

I wasn't about to be dismissed like that. I poked him in the ribs with my pencil, making him jump.

"What the hell?" he hissed.

I just looked at him pointedly.

I swear he gave this little growl – which was actually kind of hot – and then grabbed the slip of paper and wrote back, Are you always this fucking persistent? He waited until I nodded. His lips curved up just slightly as he wrote back, Fine.

His mood improved after that, and we finished the simple assignment with time to spare. He passed my sketchbook back and then pulled out his own, and we spent the last few minutes of class drawing comfortably side by side, speaking from time to time. At first, I was relaxed, but as I became aware once again of our audience, the minutes seemed to grow slower and slower. I wondered if this was what it felt like for him always, and a wave of sympathy crashed through me, though I didn't let him see.

Though the class seemed interminable, it did end at least, and the weirdness between us seemed to have vanished as we packed up and got ready to head to lunch.

"You joining us again today?" Edward asked, glancing over my shoulder. I knew I'd find Newton if I followed his gaze, even before he said, "Or did you make other arrangements?"

I made a face at him and rolled my eyes, muttering, "Come on."

He followed me with a chuckle, and soon we were sitting at the same table as the day before. My stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch when I saw that Jasper wasn't there, and from the strange look Edward gave me, I wondered if my pout was clear on my face. He came in a few minutes later, though, sitting in the same seat as he let his legs sprawl out in front of him. He seemed utterly at ease, relaxed no matter what was happening, and I couldn't stop staring.

He was hot, yes.

Extremely so.

But it was his resemblance to Peter that kept getting me. His hair was a little shorter, and his smirk made an appearance far more often, but there was enough similarity to make me do a double-take more than once.

And every time I looked at him, I remembered Peter…and the things we used to do…and soon, I was squirming in my seat, struggling to keep the blush off my face. I couldn't help it. And I couldn't tell if my attraction was to Jasper or just the memory of Peter, but I knew it was there.

Lunch seemed to pass far too quickly. It was great to get to know everyone a little better. Jasper seemed more talkative than yesterday as he joked around with Emmett and Edward. I noticed that Ben was the quietest of the bunch – even more so than Angela, but he piped up every now and then, usually offering something funny before he'd go back to the graphic novel he was reading.

It shouldn't have surprised me, I guess, but I wasn't expecting the way Angela just jumped right into the middle of the boys' conversations. She…fit with them. Completely. And it made no sense. As I glanced around at our table, I tried to figure out how the five of them had become friends.

I made no progress and decided I'd have to ask Edward later. Angela and Ben were so reserved, so shy around new people, especially, that I didn't quite get how they'd come to be part of a group with three jocks. Well, two jocks and one former one. My friends back home were an eclectic group, but they didn't all hang out together. I just happened to be friends with all sorts of people, but I knew that when I, say, went to a party, only some of my friends would be there.

That didn't seem to be the case here. These five were solid.

And even though I'd yet to meet most of the other residents of Forks, what I knew of them had me hoping that the five would soon become six.

My musing left me quieter than usual, and I sat back, watching the five of them banter. I was beginning to realize that maybe I was more into Peter than I'd thought I was – or even wanted to be – because my brain kept conjuring up small comparisons. Edward had Peter's love of literature, but Jasper definitely had his blue eyes. The artistic side seemed to be in Edward's favor, although Jasper had the laid back attitude that I loved.

As lunch wore on, I realized what I was really doing. It had very little to do with Peter and everything to do with the fact that I was attracted to the two of them – a lot. I enjoyed watching them interact, the way they teased each other and talked earnestly.

Too bad I can't have them both.

I'd settle for one. I just didn't know which one…or if I could get either.

I wrinkled my nose, forcing myself to finish the sandwich I'd gotten for lunch. Much too soon, lunch ended without either of the two declaring his undying love, so I was forced to simply clean up and head back into the purgatory of high school.

My AP English class was my one little piece of heaven in the hell that was Forks. The only thing that would've made it perfect was if Jasper and Emmett had been in it as well, but as it was, I got to immerse myself in literature for an hour with Edward, Ben, and Angela. Mr. Mason was pretty cool, too, and he actually knew what the hell he was talking about, which was kind of rare in my experience.

He assigned our next novel – Chopin's The Awakening. Edward laughed at my excitement, but it was the first time in two years that my teacher had chosen a novel I hadn't read yet. He rolled his eyes at my explanation, but I caught him glancing at me several times with a smile on his lips.

The rest of the class was spent discussing particular points that were likely to come up on the short answer part of our exam. As usual, the things I enjoyed ended way too soon, and we were walking out of class well before I was ready. Edward acted casual, but I saw the happy gleam in his eyes when I groaned at the sight of Mike Newton waiting outside the gym doors.

For me.

He really seemed to have no fucking clue that I was not interested – at all.

"Cheer up," Edward said with a grin. "It's only an hour, right?" His eyes shifted to Newton again before he leaned down, reaching up to hold my chin between his thumb and forefinger. My head tilted toward his slightly of its own accord as he whispered, "Only an hour…of gym…with Newton…"

"And Stanley," I grumbled.

He laughed, and I punched his ribs, stepping away. I was pulling my hair into a ponytail as I walked when I heard him call out, "See you in a couple of hours, Swan."

Unfortunately, Newton thought the smile on my face was for him and pushed away from the wall as I came closer. "Hey, Bella!" His eyes were tight as he glanced behind me and then looked back at my face. "Is Masen messing with you? It's too bad you got stuck with him as a lab partner, huh? Hey, listen…" He tried to lean in close like he'd seen Edward do, but I kept walking, and he was forced to quicken his steps to keep up. "If you want, I can talk to Banner, arrange a trade?"

He sounded so hopeful that I stopped, clenching my jaw as I turned around to face him. "No, thanks. I like Edward."

His eyes flew wide before he blinked at me a couple of times. I could see the way my words just did not compute in that little pea brain of his, and I was thankful for the pause it gave, as I used it to escape into the locker room.

While I was changing into my shorts, Jessica bounded into the room, her ponytail swaying as she began babbling. It was clear that the mini-argument in Keyboarding was totally forgotten – by her, at least – and I just didn't have the energy to stay mad at her. It really was just like Charlotte; she pissed me off, but she wasn't worth the trouble of passionate emotions.

As we were leaving the locker room, she said, "So there's a party at Tyler's tomorrow night. Everybody's going. Do you want me to pick you up?"

"Oh," I said blankly, pausing as a basketball flew by us. It bounced off the wall, and Jessica picked it up, tossing it back in bounds. "Umm…I'm not really sure if I can. First weekend here and all, you know? Dad might want to do something." I bit my bottom lip, my stomach churning uneasily at the thought of a weekend trapped with Charlie and that awkwardness again.

God, something has got to give.

But the thought of going out with Jessica – spending a night with her crowd – was equally unappealing. She was totally unaware of my internal conflict and was chattering on, offering advice on how to "get my way" with Charlie. She didn't realize that "my way" would be spending a quiet evening in my room, well away from her…and Charlie…and nearly anyone else.

She talked all the way through the basketball game we pretended to play, telling me about parties past and some of the stupid shit people had done. Jasper, Edward, and Emmett's names came up often, which I thought was odd, right up until she whined, "God, they were so much fun sometimes. Edward is such a selfish prick."

"What?" I asked in confusion.

"Edward. He's selfish," she said as if by way of explanation. When I just looked at her, she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "He just wanted attention. He was always this Mr. Perfect, but he wanted to be a badass. He went too far this time, but instead of just growing up and apologizing, he's turned it into some us versus them bullshit, and of course Jasper and Emmett went along with him."

I blinked at her, my head shaking slightly as I tried to figure out exactly how things had become so twisted in her head. Was she really so self-centered that she thought someone should just get over something so life-shattering and apologize to her for disrupting her party plans?

I didn't even have words to answer her, so I just jogged down the court after the ball. We spent the rest of the class – which was blessedly not long – in silence. She asked me a couple of times if I was okay, and I just nodded.

After a quick shower, I got dressed again and headed out the door before she was ready. I heard her voice from the stall, though. "Call me if you need a ride tomorrow, Bella!"

I shook my head in disbelief and walked the short distance to my last class of the day. I felt confused, a little ungrounded, and I wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone. I just wanted the day to end so I could go home and think in the quiet of my own room. I tried not to remember that the room wasn't my old, comfortable bedroom in Phoenix – it was the room here, smack dab in the middle of Charlie's awkward house.

I was in a foul mood when I reached my American History class, but it passed uneventfully. Soon enough, the bell rang, and I was free for the weekend. When I reached the parking lot, Edward's car was still there, but he was nowhere in sight. Since he'd promised – sort of – to tell me what was bothering him, I decided to wait like I had yesterday. My tailgate gave a groaning creak like the fifty-six-year-old ancient that it was as I lowered it, but it was sturdy enough when I hopped up on it.

I climbed into the bed and pulled out The Diamond Age before stuffing my backpack behind me as a pillow and leaning against the side with my legs stretched out in front of me. I knew from experience that it would probably be in the seventies – at least – in Phoenix right now, and I grumbled at the gray sky as I shivered and pulled my sweatshirt sleeves down over my hands.

This place is a fucking nightmare.

With a sigh, I opened my novel and paused for a second when I saw Peter's messy handwriting on the sticky note he'd left inside for me to find. It was a simple message – To the girl who draws weird trees. Miss you. – but it never failed to make me smile. I stuck it to my finger and tapped it against the book lightly as I began reading.

Soon, I was absorbed in the world of little Nell and nanotechnology, my brow furrowing as I bit my lip and leaned a little closer. I didn't notice the parking lot emptying; suddenly, I felt the truck lurch.

Just then, my book disappeared from my hands, and I looked up to see Emmett holding the novel with a grin while Edward settled in my truck bed across from me. I looked at him for a little longer than I should have, but I noticed he was staring at me, too. He'd paused in the act of sitting down, and his biceps were bulging beneath his shirt as he held himself in that awkward position. His eyes roamed my face as his smile spread, and then he moved at last.

I glanced away with a blush, snatching my book back from Emmett, who'd been reading a few lines with a thoughtful frown on his face. The frown faded immediately, and he winked at me, leaning against the side of my truck with his arms crossed. Just like the day before, he hung around for a minute or two, mostly giving Edward a hard time, until Edward finally said, "Don't you have somewhere to be, fucker?"

Emmett grinned brightly, the dimples in his cheeks giving him an innocent appearance that was shot to shit when he snickered and said, "Yeah, Rosalie's bed."

Edward laughed with him and muttered, "Better not let Jasper hear you say that shit."

"I'm not afraid of Jasper's skinny ass," Emmett answered, but he looked around the parking lot just the same. As he was leaving, he glanced over his shoulder and said cryptically, "Don't forget to ask her."

"Ask me?" I watched his retreating form. He didn't turn around, just lifting his right hand with a little wave. "Ask me what?" I yelled.

Edward chuckled, bringing my attention back to him. Emmett was immediately banished from my mind when I saw Edward running his fingers through his messy hair. It was the weirdest color, sort of half-red, half-brown, and I thought on anyone else, it would look ridiculous, especially standing up like it always did, like he was some goddamn anime hero. It didn't look stupid on him, though.

It fit him. It looked…good.

Like he's some goddamn anime hero.

I grinned at him, and he lifted an eyebrow curiously. I shook my head and pulled my backpack into my lap, putting the book back inside and zipping it closed before leaning against it once more.

He stretched his arms out to either side, resting his palms on the bed rail. "So what's happening in the world of nano machines?"

We talked for a few minutes about the book as I tried to convince him to read it. When he finally laughed and said he'd check it out, I said, "Good. Now it's your turn."

"My turn?"

I nodded. "Yup, I told you what you wanted to know. Now you tell me…what the hell happened in Bio today?"

He grimaced, dropping his hands from the sides as he drew his knees toward his chest. He rested his elbows on his knees while I sat up a little straighter, looking at him expectantly. Instead of answering me directly, he picked at his thumbnail and said casually, "Your sketches are really good. There's a sort of…" He paused, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "Higher level of detail to them. They look very real."

If he expected me to make it easy on him, he was about to be sorely disappointed. I listened in silence, and when he glanced up again, I was looking at him pointedly.

"I was a little surprised to find pictures of Jasper already. You move fast, Swan." He grinned as he said it, but I saw the way it didn't reach his eyes.

It took me only about half a second to figure out what he meant. After all, I'd spent a hell of a lot of time pondering the similarity between Jasper and Peter myself.

I smiled and kicked at his foot, knocking his elbow off his knee. "It's not Jasper."

"Coulda fooled me," he said lightly.

I sat Indian-style, leaning forward with my hands in my lap. "Did you take a look at the dates, smart one?"

He frowned, his eyes glancing up and to the right as he thought. "No, guess not…why?"

"Because I drew them when I was in Phoenix. They're not of Jasper. They're of Peter…" I felt the blush on my cheeks as I remembered when some of them had been drawn.

"Who the hell is Peter?" The question was predictable, but the annoyance in Edward's voice wasn't. I glanced over to find his eyes angry and his lips thin.

It just made me smile. I sat back, relaxing as I told him about Peter. I didn't get into everything – not because I didn't trust him, but because I wasn't sure he'd want to hear all the sordid details – but for the first time, I told someone about Peter and our arrangement. I owed it to Edward after the trust he'd shown me, but more than that, it felt really good to finally be able to say all that shit out loud.

He listened in silence as I babbled on, telling him about the first time I'd seen Peter, the ridiculous way we'd ended up kissing in the supply room, even the frustration I felt at wanting something more and at the same time…not. He didn't interrupt, letting me get it all out in the open, and then when I finished, I looked up to find him smiling at me.

"Lucky bastard," was all he said.

I made a face at him, and he said, "What?" all innocently, like he didn't know what I was getting at.

I rolled my eyes.

"Get mad all you want, Swan, but the dude had an agreement going that most guys would kill for." He shrugged.

His words stung. It was what I'd come to expect from Edward, though – complete honesty. I didn't like to think that maybe I'd just been a convenient arrangement for Peter…mostly because that was my deepest fear regarding our relationship. I had pretended that's all he was for me, but every time I thought of him since moving had shown me that I was deluding myself.

I guess I was holding out hope that Peter had been as well.

Of course, I would never know, as my phone was smashed. Besides, I had to admit that the possibilities moving to Forks had opened up were…intriguing.

My thoughts were circling, becoming a tangled snarl, and I recognized the mess for what it was – a defense mechanism to keep myself from thinking about the things that could possibly hurt me. I wrinkled my nose.

Edward must have taken pity on me because he shifted, leaning back against the side of the truck again. His legs were sprawled out in front of him on either side of mine with his feet near my hips. I pulled my legs in front of me to give him more room, and he smiled his thanks. "Hey." His voice was quiet when he spoke again, softer somehow, and he had my attention at once. "I just wanted to say thanks. I was a little worried you wouldn't talk to me today."

"What? Why?" My hands dropped to my sides, landing on his shins. Instead of moving them away, I held on, my thumbs running lightly along the seam near the frayed hem of his jeans.

His eyes flickered to my hands and back to my face before he gave a small smile. "Well," he began, dragging it out a bit, "because you seemed pretty pissed about my connection to Carlisle, first of all." He swallowed, his eyes shifting back and forth between mine as he read my expression. I gave a curt nod, struggling to keep the anger off of my face. Even though I knew that Charlie had nothing to do with it, the situation still seemed a little too convenient – and, if I were being honest, it hurt to think that Edward might be hanging out with me just as a favor to Carlisle. "And because, let's face it…your life is kind of fucked up right now as it is. You could make it a hell of a lot easier by staying away from me."

"Ugh…yeah, and be left with the Newtons and Stanleys? No, thanks. I don't give a fuck what people think anyway." I smiled at Edward, but my smile fell as I tried to figure out how to address the whole Carlisle situation. I was at a complete loss there.

Hell, I didn't even know what to say to my own father, much less his lover.

His lover.

I tried to wrap my head around the word, especially the "love" part. Somehow, as twisted as it sounded, I wondered if it wouldn't have been easier to accept that my father was gay if it hadn't come with the revelation that he'd been in a steady relationship my whole life.

"As far as Carlisle goes…" I frowned, my chin down as I focused on my fingers playing with the zipper of my hoodie. "I don't even know the man."

Edward gave me a moment, and then he said softly, "Look, there's no reason for you to listen to me at all, so feel free to tell me to fuck off...but maybe you should try to get to know him?"

I grimaced. When he didn't say anything more, I raised just my eyes to look at him. I don't know what he expected from me. Was I supposed to say, Oh my god, Edward! You're so right! Why didn't I think of that?

He sighed and shook his head, his lips curving up just slightly at one corner. "So damn stubborn," he muttered. He rubbed his hands on his thighs and then turned, moving to the tailgate. "Just think about it, alright?"

He hopped down off the truck. I pouted and followed behind him, dragging my backpack with me. I idly thought that my relationship with Edward was yet another thing that Charlie and Carlisle were going to fuck up for me, but I couldn't seem to gather my usual anger toward them.

Before I could get too upset – or examine that new development – Edward said, "Oh, hey, I almost forgot to ask you. We're all getting together tomorrow night to hang out – Jasper, Emmett, Ang, and Ben'll be there. Wanna come?"

"Depends," I said coyly.

He narrowed his eyes at my tone. "On what?"

"Is Mike going to be there?"

"Fuck, no." His eyes flashed with disgust, and I pretended to pout at him for just a minute before I grinned.

"Good, then I will be." I winked at him, trying to leave him as flustered as he'd left me yesterday as I walked toward my driver's door. "You're cute with your nostrils all flared like that."

I heard his low, rumbling growl as I opened the door, but then his voice was playful as he said, "Hey, Bella?" I glanced at him over my shoulder, and I should've known from the devilish grin on his face that he was up to no good. "You've got rust on your ass," he said with a smirk before turning and strolling away arrogantly.

He was in his car before I could even begin to think of a comeback, and I glowered at him as I finally climbed into the cab of my truck. I caught him grinning as he sped away. I couldn't help the smile that was on my own lips when I turned the key in the ignition and headed for home.

The drive was short, and I hummed the whole way – right up until I turned into the driveway and saw a Mercedes sitting beside Charlie's cruiser. I froze.

No fucking way.

I knew on some level, of course, that I would be meeting Carlisle eventually. I just hadn't expected it right this second. My hands were shaking as I turned off the truck and sat for a moment, collecting myself. A fleeting thought – a hope, really – passed through my mind. Maybe it wasn't Carlisle's car; maybe someone else had just stopped by to see Charlie.

But I dismissed the thought immediately. A feeling of expectancy hung in the air even out here, and I just knew, inexplicably, that it was his car.

Of course it's a Mercedes.

I glanced over at Charlie's utilitarian cruiser and my ancient truck. A kinship existed between our vehicles, some similarity in the dings and dents. They were working vehicles, tough, and Carlisle's sleek car was clearly from a different world.

I was stalling, and I knew it. I took a minute to steel myself, bracing for whatever impact was coming. I forced myself to remember the pictures of the two of them together, their arms around each other and huge smiles on their faces. The images stung – not because of who my father was with, but because he was with someone. Someone I had never met. Someone who had been kept from me. I blinked rapidly, forcing my persistent tears away, and took deep, calming breaths.

When I could think about the picture of the two of them on the driftwood log without my face screwing up and my breath catching, I pocketed my keys and slipped out from behind the steering wheel.

I can do this.

I had no idea what I was going to say, what I was going to do, but I could handle going in and saying hello to Carlisle. I could be the adult, since Charlie clearly hadn't been man enough for years now. I closed the truck door as silently as possible and tiptoed toward the door. I wasn't sure why I was being quiet – it wasn't like my truck didn't announce itself for miles around – but it helped me feel somehow more confident, more in control.

And I'd take whatever control I could get at the moment.

The front door was unlocked, so I opened it and stepped inside, my stomach a ball of nerves as I took a few steps toward the kitchen.

It was like a slap in the face.

The blond-haired man from the pictures – Carlisle, I forced myself to think – was standing behind Charlie, who was sitting at the kitchen table. Carlisle's arms were wrapped around Charlie's shoulders, his hands rubbing up and down Charlie's arms soothingly, and their heads were bent close together. It was such an intimate image that I felt like an intruder in what was supposed to be my own home. The sight – the reality – knocked the wind out of me, and my backpack fell off my shoulder, hitting the floor as I said, "Oh!"

I had thought I was ready. I'd had a few days to absorb the fact that Charlie was gay, and I'd taken a few trips into his room to see the evidence for myself. I knew it. I was ready for it. But apparently knowing something and even seeing it in pictures was completely different than seeing another flesh-and-blood man's arms wrapped around my father.

We stood in utter stillness for a moment.

Look at me, Dad. Aren't you even going to look to see if I'm okay?

I knew he'd heard me – I'd seen him flinch – but he just sat there. Carlisle was the one who straightened, and it was Carlisle's eyes that sought my face. His eyes were kind, gentle, and I couldn't look at them. My own eyes focused on his hands, which were rubbing Charlie's shoulders, each touch driving home just how alone in this I was.

The only one alone.

I saw Charlie close his eyes like a coward, leaving the two of us to deal with this. I didn't know how to deal with this, though. I didn't even know what I felt, what I thought. It was so damn hard to hate Carlisle as he watched me with those soft eyes, and I felt my anger focus more and more on the man sitting silently between us.

That is, until Carlisle spoke in a quiet voice with a subtle British accent, "Hello, Bella, I'm Carlisle. It's a pleasure to meet you."

It's a pleasure to meet you?

I felt rage surge through me. This man tore my family apart, caused my father to cheat on my mother – caused their divorce – and he was just acting like everything was fine.

What the hell is wrong with them?

I couldn't seem to make myself move or speak. My eyes flickered back and forth between the two of them, and suddenly a knife twisted in my gut as a thought hit me.

Was he thinking of Carlisle when he slept with my mother?

It was too much. The pain was a physical blow, and I fought the urge to double over, clenching my stomach. Charlie was hiding his eyes like he was ashamed – though whether of me or Carlisle or God knows what else, I had no idea. I tried to say something, but nothing came out, and I couldn't see through the tears welling up in my eyes. I blinked, trying to clear them, and then I just couldn't take it anymore.

I ran away. I went straight down the hall to my room, unable to take the sight of them before me. I slammed the door and growled in frustration when it banged open again. I deliberately took the doorknob in both my shaking hands and slammed it again, making sure it stayed shut this time. I needed noise, something to mask the images my mind was conjuring.

I kept seeing Charlie say, "I love you," to my mom while he was thinking of Carlisle. Charlie sneaking out to meet Carlisle. Charlie kissing Carlisle in my room while I was asleep in my crib. My mom crying alone after Charlie told her he was gay. Charlie kicking my mom and me out so that Carlisle could move in.

Both my hands went to my head, trying to physically stop the imagined scenarios, but it didn't help. I went to the stereo and turned it on, blasting the volume even though I didn't even really hear what was playing.

I screamed.

It became some wild, growling sound as suddenly, I had to know, just like when I had suspected Charlie was gay. I needed confirmation, to know one way or another if I was right.

I was afraid of what I might find in the kitchen, though, so I padded down the hallway quietly, anger balling my hands into fists as I breathed shallowly. I stood in silence at the doorway, my eyes closed as I tried to work up the nerve to step inside. To confront them. To demand answers for the questions my broken heart was asking.

For a moment, all I could hear was the wild drumming of my own heartbeat. Then I caught Charlie's voice, "…done hiding anything from anyone, especially my daughter. This is your home, too, and I will not let her, or anyone, run you from it ever again."

What about me? Where's my home?

My shoulders slumped as I leaned against the wall. I felt defeated, utterly alone, and I fucking hated the fact that the hurt in Charlie's voice hurt me as well. I wasn't even sure I was still welcome here. I didn't know where I wanted to be. I heard Carlisle protest, but it sounded weak, like he wasn't even trying, really, but I wasn't sure he should be. Everything was so incredibly fucked up that I didn't know…anything. Not anymore.

Carlisle's voice may have been weak and unsure, but Charlie's was strong when he said, "No, I mean it. Bella had better get used to having you around if she's going to live here. If she hates me because I'm gay, there's not shit I can do about it. It's just who I am, Carlisle. And I don't want to be anyone else - I don't want to pretend to be someone I'm just not, anymore."

I gasped audibly when I heard his words. It had never even occurred to me that Charlie might think I hated him. I didn't, not at all. I was pissed the fuck off, yes, and I wasn't sure things would ever be okay between us again, but I didn't hate him. I hated being lied to. I hated being the last to know. But his being gay didn't have a damn thing to do with it. I would've felt the same hurt and betrayal if I'd found out he was married to a woman. In fact, in some weird way, it was easier knowing that he and my mom hadn't worked out because he was gay. It was like it made it impossible for them to be together, and that was easier to handle than the thought that he just didn't want us.

No matter how pissed off I was, he deserved to know that much – that I didn't hate him and that I didn't give a shit that he was gay. I pushed away from the wall and was about to go into the kitchen when something simple, something tiny, stopped me.

Carlisle said softly, "Alright, love," and I could hear it in his voice – the tenderness and love. Tears spilled onto my cheeks. I couldn't say why, but I was hurt and lonely, and I just couldn't face them right then.

Charlie's low voice rumbled, but I couldn't make out the words. It wasn't hard to guess what he'd said, though, when Carlisle said, "I love you, too, Charlie."

I fled to my room. As soon as I was inside, I closed the door as silently as possible, begging for at least a few minutes alone. Tears were pouring over my cheeks, dripping off my chin, and the music was too goddamn loud, and everything just seemed to be too much. It was overwhelming.

I cut the music's volume in half and collapsed on my bed, holding a pillow tightly to my chest to try to stop up the gaping hole there. I completely let go, getting it all out as my shoulders heaved with my sobs and tears soaked my pillow. I cried for my parents' divorce, for the loss of what I thought I knew about myself, for what I thought I knew about Charlie, for the two men in the kitchen who were hurting, and for the fact that they were in there hurting together while I was abandoned. I cried for my mother, for the years she spent alone with this knowledge, for how much it must have hurt to hear that her husband was leaving her for another man, and for the fact that she had never told me. I cried in anger and sorrow and fear until, eventually, I was spent.

I was tired of it. All of it. I didn't like the guilty feeling building in my gut at the knowledge that Charlie thought I hated him, but I didn't know what to do about it. I was still pissed off and hurt, and it seemed like Charlie was choosing Carlisle over me, just like he'd chosen him over my mom. Everything was a fucking train wreck, and I didn't want to think about it anymore.

I sat up and angrily batted my hair out of my face, scrubbing my eyes with my fists. I took a few slow, deep breaths and stood up, calmly going to the dresser, where I looked at myself in the mirror as I pulled my hair back into a ponytail. My eyes were red, bloodshot, and there were dark circles under them already. I hardly looked like myself – like the girl who'd had a pretty damn good day at school and been laughing only an hour before. A normal day.

I rolled my eyes, grumbling under my breath as I went to change the stereo. Korn was blaring through the speakers, so I cut the volume even further and switched it to a Pink Floyd CD to try to mellow out a bit. My fingers twitched at my sides, and I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to draw.

But my sketchpad was in my backpack…which was in the hallway right across from the kitchen. I stood for a moment, biting my lip in indecision.

I was going to have to face them sometime.

I took a deep breath, exhaling through my mouth as I shook out my hands at my sides like I was getting ready to fight…or sprint, which was probably closer to the truth. My fingertips were trembling lightly when I reached for the doorknob, but I forced myself to open it and peer outside.

Nothing.

I licked my lips and looked up and down the hall, noting that the bathroom door was open and Charlie's door was closed. Then I stepped out, freezing when the floor just outside my door creaked.

I waited.

Nothing.

Gradually, I crept down the hallway, stopping just before I got to the kitchen. I listened, barely breathing, but I could hear only the sounds of something cooking and someone working inside. There were no voices, and I wondered if maybe Carlisle had left. Somehow, I doubted it.

I peeked just inside the doorway, my hand gripping the frame to steady myself, and I paused, staring at the sight before me. It wasn't Charlie cooking; it was Carlisle. Charlie was sitting at the kitchen table, just staring blankly at the wood, while Carlisle worked. He was wearing a look of intense concentration as he reached into the cupboard and pulled out a colander before snapping his fingers as if he'd forgotten something. He turned quickly, and I ducked back out of sight, my hand going to my chest.

I spent a long, torturous moment frozen in panic that his face would appear right in front of me, but it never did. When my heart had calmed, I chanced another look and saw him carrying a small bag of potatoes toward the counter. While his back was turned, I grabbed my backpack, keeping my eyes on him as I escaped down the hallway.

I closed my door again and went to my bed, where I settled in the middle. I pulled out my sketchpad and shoved the bag to the side, sitting Indian style as I flipped through the pages. I glanced over the pictures of Peter, and a smile flirted with my lips as I remembered the jealous look on Edward's face. Thinking of Edward helped. It was calming, helping me remember that my entire world wasn't the madness that was currently reigning in this house.

With that in mind, I decided to draw a bit of the world I was beginning to enjoy here – the world I'd found at Forks High. I roughly outlined the cafeteria and began populating it with the people I'd met. Most of the faces were indistinct, their expressions unreadable though their clothing helped identify them as part of a particular group. There were five faces, though, that were drawn with care.

The movement of my pencil as it shaded Jasper's lips was soothing, and I found myself smiling in response to the lazy grin on his face. I worked hard to capture Emmett's playful nature, and his dimples gave me fits until I finally felt good about them. My smile became a grin as I shaded in Ben's comic book, and Angela just seemed to fit naturally at his side. Edward was the last figure I focused on, and I spent the longest time trying to figure out how to draw that ridiculous hair of his. In the end, it looked like something straight out of manga, but it seemed to suit him.

I put the drawing on my bed, propped against my backpack, and sat back against my headboard as I studied it and thought of them. Again, my mind drifted to Edward and Jasper, and I couldn't help comparing the two of them. Jasper reminded me so much of Peter – from his easy smile to his mischievous blue eyes and even his laid-back way of speaking. It was easy to like Jasper, so easy to talk to him, but it was Edward who really seemed to get me.

I was studying Edward's eyes when a loud knock scared the shit out of me. "Fuck!" I breathed, hopping up off the bed and reaching out to turn the stereo down. I was trying to calm down when the knock came again, and I went straight to the door, yanking it open in frustration.

Impatient much?

Charlie was glaring down at me, his jaw set stubbornly as he said harshly, "It's five forty-five. Dinner's at six."

I couldn't even answer. I just stared up at his hostile face, wondering if maybe I'd missed my chance. Maybe he didn't want to talk anymore.

"You will be there, and you will be civil. Be upset with me all you want, but Carlisle has never done anything to you except love you and want to meet you, and you will be nice to him."

Love me? He doesn't even know me!

I opened my mouth, ready to…I don't know what. Scream, maybe. Tell Charlie it was his fucking fault that Carlisle had never met me, but he cut me off.

"You have fifteen minutes. I expect you to be at the table on time." He jerked the doorknob out of my hand and closed the door in my face.

I lasted about five seconds before my anger gave way to tears again, and I spun around, kicking the door with my heel hard. I waited for Charlie to yell at me, but he either didn't hear me or didn't care because there was nothing but the sound of my music.

I ran both hands through my hair, pulling it in frustration, and then I forced my face to go blank. I went to my closet, picking out clean clothes. I was a fucking mess from crying and raging, and I wasn't about to let those two see me like that.

I'd played the pretend-to-like-the-boyfriend game enough over the years with my mom that I had become a master at it. I could do the same thing here. Strangely, this felt familiar – dinner with some strange man that I didn't want to meet – and it helped to calm me down. After I'd settled on a simple green sweater and clean jeans, I grabbed underwear and a bra from the dresser and shoved open the door. I didn't bother looking down the hall; I just went straight to the bathroom and started the shower.

As the water warmed, I studied my reflection in the mirror. I looked like utter ass. My cheeks were red and streaked with tears, and the newest bout had done nothing to improve the whole eye situation. I exhaled loudly and turned around, stripping out of my clothes as I decided not to look anymore. I pinned my hair on top of my head and stepped beneath the water. It was nearly scalding, absolutely perfect, and I wanted to spend all night right there, pretending the rest of the world didn't exist.

But I knew I couldn't.

So instead, I showered quickly, and much too soon, I was standing on the fuzzy bathmat, drying off as my skin prickled with goose bumps. I got dressed, feeling slightly more human, and I was happy to see that my reflection showed me the same thing. I didn't look good, but I at least didn't look like I belonged in Night of the Living Dead. I added some mascara and dropped it back in the drawer, closing it with my hip.

When I got back to my room, my clock showed 5:56. I sat down on the edge of my bed to put on my socks and shoes and then I just…waited. My heels tapped against the floor nervously as I watched the clock, praying that dinner would be calm. I couldn't take any more drama tonight.

The green numbers on my alarm clock flipped to 5:59, and I stood up slowly, taking a deep breath. I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin just so, and walked into the kitchen.

Charlie was setting the table, putting out plates, so I went to the drawer near the stove and pulled out the silverware. Within a few minutes, the table was ready, and Carlisle had transferred all the food into serving dishes. I sat down as Charlie poured drinks for us. I listened to the water running in the sink behind me and assumed Carlisle was washing his hands. They both sat at the same time, and I couldn't help feeling like I was facing the firing squad.

I pushed down my nerves, taking a sip of the lemonade Charlie had poured for me as I tried to remember that I'd done nothing wrong. The only thing I'd done was be forced into a situation where it was hard for me to even know what was real anymore.

Near-silence reigned as we served ourselves, dishes being passed around the table to the tune of cleared throats and murmured thank-you's. Dinner actually looked fantastic, and my stomach twisted hungrily as I realized that it had been days since I'd really eaten anything. I took a bite of my chicken, my eyes widening in surprise at just how good it was.

Since neither of them seemed inclined to say anything, I decided it would be up to me to get the conversation started. There was no way I could take half an hour of the scraping of forks on plates and the sound of people chewing their food. I cleared my throat, taking another sip of lemonade, and then wiped my mouth before saying, "This is really good, Carlisle. Thank you."

It was the first time I'd addressed him, of course, and I glanced up to catch his eager, baffled expression. "Oh, thank you, Bella," he answered, the same excitement in his voice that I could see in his eyes. "You're quite welcome. I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I just picked a few things Charlie enjoys and…" He seemed to realize he was babbling and stopped abruptly, taking a bite of his roll.

I saw Charlie's arm move beneath the table to what looked suspiciously like Carlisle's thigh. I swallowed, trying to remind myself that even though I was new to the party, they'd been together for years. I'd better damn well get used to their little habits.

I felt an intense rush of homesickness, and I wished like hell that I hadn't smashed my phone. I needed to talk to someone – to my mom, specifically, to see how she'd dealt with this. To see why she hadn't told me, no matter what Charlie had asked her to do. I was lost and felt helpless, and it fucking pissed me off.

But I couldn't talk to her, and right now, I had a dinner to get through, so I did my best. I sucked it up, turning to Carlisle deliberately as I said, "So you're from England, yeah?"

He smiled at me tentatively as he nodded, and then he launched into a long explanation about his hometown. He mentioned a sister and his parents still living there, as well as an uncle and niece. I nodded politely, but I was having a hard time following him. It was a combination of his accent – even though it was fairly mild – and the fact that the whole time I was watching him, I became fascinated with the image of him kissing my father.

I had never really imagined Charlie kissing anyone. I'd thought he just wasn't interested. This whole new situation was fucking with my head.

It didn't help, either, that there were things about him that reminded me of Peter. It was mostly just the blond hair and blue eyes, but he had this lazy way of running his fingers though his hair that was very familiar. I actually giggled in disbelief – totally inappropriately, too – when I realized that my father and I had the same taste in men.

And then it kind of pissed me off. Again.

He and Charlie exchanged a look – one that was clearly questioning my sanity – and I had to sneak a glance at my watch to see if it might be getting close to an acceptable time for me to retreat. I was trying. I really was. And I thought they were, too.

But there was just no way to get past the awkwardness of the situation, and I wasn't really ready to get into deep discussions about it. Possibly when I'd had time to process what was happening and get used to the fact that I now had – as Charlie had so eloquently put it – two stepdads, I might be able to be a little more open and forgiving. For now, I just needed to get out, which reminded me of what I wanted to ask Charlie.

I waited for a lull in the conversation – of which there were many – and said, "Oh, Ch-" Fuck. "Dad."

He glanced over at me, an angry wrinkle on his forehead that he tried to hide with a small smile. "What is it, Bells?"

I blinked and swallowed at the use of his nickname for me. For a moment, I thought I saw affection in his eyes, and I wanted to see more of it. Charlie had always loved me – I'd never doubted that – and I fervently hoped that was still the case, despite my difficulties in accepting his unexpected news.

"I was just wondering…" I began, pausing to take a drink when my voice was a little strangled. "Would it be okay if I went out with some friends from school tomorrow night?"

That little wrinkle turned into a full-blown frown as he asked, "Friends? Who?"

I was keenly aware of Carlisle's eyes on me when I said, "Edward Masen and some friends of his. I think you know him?"

There was a question in my voice, but it wasn't because I didn't know if Charlie knew Edward – it was because I was wondering just how much he'd admit to me. Carlisle was in motion again, eating his dinner, and I wanted to call him out.

Yes, I am well aware that you are Edward's mentor. He was honest with me. Can't say the same for you two.

Charlie cleared his throat and took a long pull from his beer before he put it back down. "Yeah, I know him. Good kid, even though…" he trailed off and shifted in his seat. "Who else is going?"

I clenched my jaw at the way they were avoiding the subject of Edward. I should've been happy, really – it would've led far too easily to the reason for Carlisle's mentoring and to related subjects, such as my dad's sexuality – but I didn't like the way it felt like they were dismissing him. I sighed, just letting it go. I knew it was for the best. "Jasper Hale, Emmett McCarty, Angela Weber, and Ben…" I paused, realizing I didn't know Ben's last name.

"Cheney," Carlisle supplied, and I glanced over to see him smiling. "He's a nice boy. Quiet, though."

"Yeah, he is." There was a weird pause where neither of them said anything, and I glanced expectantly from one to the other. Finally, I said, "Well? Can I go?"

They shared another look, some sort of silent conversation taking place before Charlie picked up his fork again. "Yeah, you can go. Be home by midnight." I bristled at his gruff tone, and he must've picked up on it – or just realized on his own that he was kind of being a douche – because he looked up again and said, "Okay, Bells?"

"Yeah, okay." I nodded down at my plate and began picking at my food again, a small smile on my lips. At least I wouldn't be trapped here tomorrow night as well.

Dinner ended fairly soon after that, and we cleared the table in silence. We each rinsed our dishes and put them in the dishwasher, but when Carlisle began running water to wash the pots and pans, Charlie said quietly, "Just leave those for now, baby. I'll get them."

I tried to tune them out as we finished straightening the kitchen, but I heard them murmuring. I couldn't avoid it any longer when Carlisle said, "Feel like watching a movie, Bella? You're welcome to pick out whatever you'd like to see."

I was reaching into the refrigerator to put away the leftover potatoes, and I paused, taking an extra minute to rearrange things to give me time to gather myself.

Are they that fucking insane that they think I'd voluntarily set myself up for more of…this?

I put a smile on my face as I straightened at last and closed the door, turning around to face them. "Thanks…I appreciate the offer, but I think I'm just going to go check my email and maybe read for a little while. I'm pretty tired."

Carlisle was extremely nice as he said he understood and asked me if I needed anything. In truth, he was a little like a host at a hotel or something, which didn't exactly do a lot to help the whole feeling-at-home situation. Charlie, though, stood to the side with an unreadable expression on his face. He was leaning against the counter with his hands on either side of his hips and his ankles crossed. He didn't move from that position until we said our good nights.

He reached one hand out like he was going to hug me, but then he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, settling against the counter once more. I couldn't decide if I was disappointed or relieved, but I didn't stick around to figure out either.

It was still early – very early – but I beat a hasty retreat to my room, where I changed into pajamas and sprawled out on the bed, opening my copy of The Awakening. I read for hours, shifting positions occasionally, and I was still awake when I heard Charlie and Carlisle going to bed. I wasn't sure I was ready to hear whatever…sounds…they might make, so I got up and turned my stereo on quietly. After another chapter or two, my eyes were heavy, and I was yawning. I didn't try to fight it – there was no point in staying up – so I stuck a new Post-it in to mark my place and dropped the book on my nightstand, falling asleep almost at once.

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Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 8

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