I take another sip of whiskey, swirling it around in my mouth, telling myself that I'm savoring the flavor. I'm actually trying desperately to look casual. Underneath this cool exterior, I am contemplating jumping out the window. We're only three stories up, so I would likely just break my legs. Painful, sure, but right now I'd rather be in the hospital than where we're supposed to be in fifteen minutes.
Bella's flying around her apartment like it's prom night, stressing over every detail of her outfit, primping, and putting on fucking makeup. This time I take a gulp, flaring my nostrils to ease the sting of the alcohol. As it burns down my throat, I hope it will wash away the bitterness that's eating a hole in my gut. I'm not jealous, not at all. The sore muscles in my jaw are telling a different story. I force myself to relax, open my mouth, shift my lower jaw and hear the tell tale pop. Okay, fuck, maybe I'm a little jealous, but I am not about to back out now. This is important to Bella, which means it's important to me.
It's my fault, really. Since I seem incapable of sexually satisfying her. Not like we haven't tried, Jesus Christ, we've tried. We've had sex. A lot of sex. Mind blowing, earth shattering sex. She just doesn't get off when we're fucking. I don't mind. I tell her over and over again, that I don't mind. I love having sex with Bella, I love kissing her, and god damn do I love to go down on her, but she gets this weird guilty look after. Like she thinks that she's broken, because fucking me isn't enough. For such a smart girl, she can be really silly when it comes to sex. Anyone could tell you that not every girl gets off from penetration. Shit, most women don't.
Bella won't listen to that. She insisted that there's stuff that we're not doing right. So, we've got a pile of books on sex and even sat through a seminar at the local sex club, the Wet Spot, that I don't remember shit about. I was too busy being creeped out by how much all the other couples looked like my parents' friends. All of this is Bella's idea, and all so that I can be more...dominant. I can't help but cringe at the thought of it. All I can think of is that fucked up scene from Pulp Fiction that still makes me a little nauseous. I am not some ass-raping Hillbilly. I don't want to dress in leather and crack a fucking whip. I don't need to know how to pick a safe word or how to safely set someone's ass on fire. I could have lived the rest of my life without knowing about pegging. Really, even now, I'm trying to forget it. I don't need all that shit to get off. All I need is Bella. Her sweet plump lips, her dark eyes, and the soft curves of her body.
Unfortunately, it isn't that easy for Bella, which brings us to tonight's festivities. Shit, there's that bitterness again. I down the rest of my whiskey and set the glass on the coffee table. The TV is buzzing in the background, but I'm not really paying attention. My mind can't un-stick itself. My gears are grinding, trying to figure out what my fucking problem is.
It's not like I'm some repressed mama's boy. I've had plenty of sex. Damn good sex. Dirty nasty sex. I have fucked in every conceivable place and fashion: pool tables, rooftops, my parents' bed, even a hotel elevator. Hell, I fucked a girl in the ass on a god damn church pew. That takes balls and the preparation skills of fucking boy scout. But that was a million years ago, before Bella.
This is different, sex with Bella is different. Sure, we've only been together three months, but I knew, from the first time I saw her leaning against the bar at Jillian's. Vicky, the sexy bartender that I always flirted with, had just laughed off my latest attempt to lure her from her girlfriend. Vicky was hot, funny and never judged me. She saw me leave the bar with a different girl every night and would just tease me about being a dog. I loved it and always came back for more. That night I was flirting hard, because I was tired of the girls that I knew would come home if I just smiled sideways at them.
"If you want a challenge that might actually pay off, you should give my girl Bella a try," Vicky said with a wink as she pointed her finger at a hot brunette at the end of the bar. Bella had turned around, like she could feel me looking at her ass, and when our eyes met, we both smiled. It was ludicrous, like out of a movie, but the truth is like that sometimes. Before she opened her hot little mouth, I knew this girl was different.
It crystallized for me the next morning when I woke up next to her on Alice's couch, after a night of drinking, amazing conversation, and the hottest make out session of my life. My dick was still in my pants, we hadn't even fucked, but we'd gotten off, a lot. Bella made me feel like an awkward freshman with a hair trigger dick. She had a foul mouth, a wicked sense of humor and brains. Girls that can reference Einstein's theory of relativity in casual conversation, debate strategic warfare and actually like to play chess are fucking sexy. Not to mention a little intimidating. Even before I knew all that, I knew, she was the girl. The one I want to marry. Of course, Bella Swan is not the kind of girl you tell that, not unless you want send her running for the hills. Bella is an independent, modern woman that doesn't need any man in her life.
She makes that clear every time she pays for our coffee, insists on driving, or refuses to accept presents. Even after we've been together all this time, she still looks utterly floored when I'm still laying next to her in the morning. She's surprised that I still want to kiss her, despite her messy hair and morning breath. I play it cool, because I know I have to. I know the truth would freak her out: that I'm with her because every second that I'm not with her, I'm wishing I was. The waiting drives me insane, but I know I have to give her time to come around. Because she is worth it, so worth it. Most days, I get by, but some days, I don't do so well with it. She's everything to me and I can't even get her off.
Fuck, fuckity, fuck, fuck! I swear I put my earrings on the dresser. I tear the medicine chest apart like a rampaging wolverine and still can't find the ruby heart earrings that Edward gave me. They're not real, but I still love them, because they're from Edward. I know, I sound like moon-eyed little girl, but it's the truth. When he gave them to me, I got a lump in my throat the size of a Buick. He wasn't trying to make-up for some fight, or get laid. It wasn't even my birthday, or a week after. He'd just dropped by the cafe when I was on shift. He left a little plastic bag with cutesy lettering for some mall store on the counter, after he picked up his coffee.
Rita saw it first and asked, "Hey, did you forget your bag?"
I looked up from the milk I was steaming and he was looking at me when he replied, "Nope, that's Bella's." Then he left.
I called him on my next break, after Rita had opened the bag, then the little velvet box, and screamed. I played it off like it was some inside joke, so she'd shut the fuck up, but inside my head I was screaming with girlie delight and freaking out a little. As soon as he answered the phone, I asked if they were real, because despite the bag, they looked real. Even Carl, whose sugar daddy buys him diamonds and shit, all the time? Even Carl said they looked real. Edward just laughed and said that while he could afford real rubies, he wouldn't buy them, cause he knew how I felt about gifts in general.
"I just saw them on the little sales rack in front of the store while I was on my way to see you and I thought, why not." He was smiling, I could hear it in his voice. "They only cost a dollar. Wait, I did have to pay tax. I'm sorry. Do you want me to return them?" I could tell he was fighting to not laugh, because I was being stupid. It was just a small gesture, a little throwaway cheap pair of plastic earrings. Nothing big or meaningful, and suddenly I felt ridiculous. He was just being nice and I was acting like an ungrateful bitch. Rita started yelling for me to get back out, because the two-o-clock rush was starting.
"Edward." I chewed my bottom lip as I spoke softly into the phone.
"Yeah," he said in his usual casual tone, and I felt sillier with every minute.
"It's sweet. I mean, thank you. I love them." I know, I sounded like every word was being dragged out of me, but I wasn't used to this kind of stuff. At all.
"No problem. Call me when you get off work, maybe we can catch a bite or something," Edward said with that same casual air that reassured me that this was nothing big. I tried to ignore the small part of me that was a little disappointed as he spoke again.
"Bella." His voice changed, he sounded almost tender and I thought for a second he was going to say...something that I was nowhere near being able to say out loud.
"Yeah?" I squeaked a little, the lump reappearing in my throat.
"Happy one month anniversary."
The line went dead and my awkward guilt quickly turned into angry embarrassment. Fucker, he was fucking with me. Breaking the rules by dropping off a cheap little nothing present. Making me feel like an oversensitive asshole and then, to top it off, he teases me about it. He was going to pay and he did. That night we had fun, while Edward apologized for pissing me off. Edward was really good at apologizing, with his tongue and fingers. I came so many times, I lost count and he didn't even unzip his pants. He likes to spoil me and I am getting used to it. Maybe a little too used to it.
I go back to check my nightstand and see nothing but an empty bottle of water and a wadded up tissue. I use the bottle to knock the tissue and its mysterious contents into the trash. As I flop onto the bed, I sigh heavily and stare at my freshly polished toenails. I painted them whore red to match the earrings that I can't fucking find. I take a deep breath and close my eyes.
I'm not freaking out over some stupid earrings. Though, I really need to fucking find them. Nope, I'm hiding in my bedroom, listening to some know-it-all douche on the History Channel talk shit about Churchill. Like that over-educated bitch would last ten seconds in the presence of Winston motherfucking Churchill. God, I hate the History Channel. Edward, on the other hand, loves it. It's like some kind of comfort thing for him. When he's had a hard day at work, I find his ass in front of the TV, watching some shit about WWII or Old West gunfighters. It doesn't seem to matter what it is, just that it's there. Now, it's in my living room and I hate it even more, if it's possible. Fucking shit.
He's drinking too. Started as soon as he got here, planting his ass on my couch and switching the channel without even asking. Not that I give a shit. I really wasn't watching whatever piece of shit reality TV trash was on VH1. Edward's not much of a talker, either and I'm okay with that, 'cause I talk enough for the western fucking seaboard. It's not like he's chugging from the bottle and crying on the floor. It's just a half glass of whiskey and the History Channel. Still, it makes me nervous. It wouldn't if we were just going out, like any other night, but tonight is different.
We're on our way to meet my ex-boyfriend for dinner, drinks, and a threesome. My idea. The threesome, I mean. Dinner and drinks was actually Edward's idea. So we can chat, like intelligent progressive adults that get to know each other before they fuck like horny porn stars. While it sounds hot, like every woman's secret fantasy come true, the reality of it is starting to sink in and I'm feeling a little queasy.
"Bella, honey, we're going to be late." He sounds like he's going to a fucking funeral.
"Okay, I'm almost ready." I try to sound more enthusiastic, 'cause we are going to do this. We NEED to do this. I get up, slip my feet into my open-toed pumps, feeling half naked without the damn earrings, 'cause they're from Edward. I feel like tonight, of all nights, I should be wearing them, but it's not going to happen. I sigh, like a deflating balloon or a whoopee cushion.
"Time to man up, Bella," I tell myself out loud, cause I need that extra push. I mentally put on my big girl pants and head out into the living room, to face Edward and Normandy beach.
I see her feet before I realize she's there. I look up her legs, past the hem of her little black dress, loving the way it hugs her narrow waist. As I settle on her face, all the weight that's been crushing my chest lightens a little. She's so beautiful, standing in front of me, fist on her hip, glaring at me like I just kicked her cat. Like I would mess with that psychotic animal. I quickly glance around, checking for his russet-colored fur, knowing that he's lurking, somewhere. Probably under the couch, waiting to swipe at my heels as I get up. I've learned my lesson and only wear boots to Bella's place. I secretly dread the day when Bella and I move in together, and I'm forced to share a home with her insane feline. It's like it has it out for me, 'cause I've seen it snuggle up to Alice like they're best buddies. Figures. I never was very good with animals.
"Are you going to stare at me all night?" She's giving me that look, like I'm in trouble, but really she's just upset and it's easy for her to focus it into anger, or annoyance. I squint at her and smile a little, because she's not really mad. It's frustration, at something.
"What is it?" I cut through the bullshit, because I know this isn't about something big, it's about something silly, which means I might have a chance at fixing it. I need that right now. She makes an odd twisting motion with her arms, that makes her look ridiculous and adorable.
"I can't find my earrings. The ones you gave me." Her bottom lips juts out as she says it, playing up the part of the lady in distress and I bite, because it's Bella and I live to make her smile.
"You mean these?" I pull the earrings from the inner pocket of my jacket. I'd slid them there before I left my place. I found them on my floor a few days ago. The must have fallen during one of our mind-blowing make-out sessions. Her eyes widen as she gives me a smile that makes me a little weak, and she snatches the earrings from my hand. I watch, my heart hiccuping in my chest as she puts them on and beams with pride. I told her they weren't real, a little white lie. I know she'd have kittens if she knew that not only are they real, but they belonged to my mother.
I know, I'm moving fast, but Bella isn't the kind of girl that you leave hanging. I want her to know that I appreciate her, that she's treasured. I want her for as long as I can have her. Forever, if I can manage it.
"What do ya think?" She models them for me, and I make a show of appreciating them.
"Very nice." I look her in the eye as I rise to slide my arms around her waist. "Not as beautiful as you, though." I say it against the skin of her neck as I pull her into me. She shivers against me and I savor this moment, the feel of her in my arms. After a moment, I place a kiss on her neck and pull back, feeling awkward again. Like I always do, because I know, or think I do, that she's too good for me and that I'm kidding myself that she's going to stay. In a way, tonight is the clearest proof of that. I push the thought away as I draw my hand down her arm and take her hand.
"Ready?" I ask, not able to meet her eyes.
"Yes." She sounds confident as she grips my hand and I pull her to the door
Author's note:
I would like to thank AnaG for helping me with some last minute editing.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to this story - all copyright and trademarked items mentioned herein belong to their respective owners.