My entry for Free Writers and Readers "Musical Cues II" One-Shot Contest
Prompt: Pick a song, any song. Write a one-shot that brings that song to life in full-blown
Technicolor or sepia tones or black and white. Just make us feelit.
Song: Crush - Dave Matthews Band
Link to Song: http:/www[dot]youtube[dot]com/watch?v=elUwSHjfA94
Crazy
Crazy how it feels tonight
Crazy how you make it all alright, love
You crush me with the things you do
I'd do for you anything too
E&B
Manhattan A.D.A. Edward Cullen walks briskly down the street while shouting into his phone, "Make it happen? How am I supposed to make this happen, Marc? I. Don't. Want. A. Deal. I don't think I could be any clearer on this if I tried!" He is completely stressed out - pacing up and down the block, tugging at his hair and making quite a scene. "You told them what? But... okay, forget it. Forget it. I'll just have to put something together. Why? Well, you really left me no choice, did you?" Without so much as a 'goodbye' he ends the call and rubs his hands furiously over his face in a gesture of pure frustration.
"Shit," he curses under his breath. "Shit, shit, SHIT!" The last one is rather loud, and he glances around to notice that the other pedestrians are looking at him warily and giving him a fairly wide berth. Sighing deeply in attempt to calm his frayed nerves, he resigns himself to yet another late night at work. Turning on his heel to head back to the office, he drops his cell phone into his suit pocket and looks up.
Her.
His vision is consumed with her.
She is walking down the street toward him. He watches as her long dark hair floats gently around her face in the late-afternoon breeze. A black sleeveless shirt is tucked into low, worn jeans and a bright patchwork tote bag is slung haphazardly over one of her shoulders. As he stares at her, transfixed, her full lips slowly curl into a tiny, carefree smile as though some pleasant memory has just run through her mind. She is simply gorgeous and while he can't pinpoint it just now, there is something about her that draws him in.
Nearing the street corner opposite him, she slows her gait and turns to open a bright purple door. Without a single thought going through his mind, he suddenly finds himself making his way across the intersection toward her. His palm slams down hard on the hood of the cab that he steps out in front of and a distracted, "Sorry, man," leaves his lips as he all but ignores the shouting driver.
He reaches the corner café quickly and right before he opens the door to follow her inside, Edward has a brief moment of indecision. It's as though he can tell that this moment - this simple choice of whether or not to follow a stranger through a door - has the potential to upset his carefully planned-out life. He knows he should go back to the office to fix the problem Marc created, but something is telling him to ignore work and to open this door. He never does this; he never makes rash decisions and he never ignores work. But still, something pulls him forward. He opens the door.
Inside the small café, Edward tries his best to be covert while searching for her face. He finds her easily; the coffee shop is small and she sits at a round table in the corner facing him. As he watches, she takes a small sip of her coffee, leans down to her bright patchwork bag and pulls out a notebook, pen and laptop. To give himself a reason to stay, if only for a short time, he walks up to the counter and orders a coffee. Black. While he waits for his drink, he notices that the laptop sits open to her left, but her focus is on the words streaming from her pen onto blank pages.
He finds a table not far from hers and sits facing her with that day's newspaper open on the table in front of him. The newspaper is a guise; he can't stop watching her. He is mesmerized by the graceful arch of her neck, the delicate line of her collar bone and the way her brow furrows just a bit as the pen moves over the pages of her notebook, never stopping.
The minutes pass and soon he can't take it anymore. He wants to get closer, wants to talk to her. He folds his newspaper, picks up his coffee mug and walks to the back of the café where she sits writing.
As he approaches the table, her pen stops. Without looking up she says, "I was hoping you might join me." Her eyes move up to meet his for the first time and they warm at the sight of him. Her face breaks into a beautiful smile. "Sit," she says, motioning to the chair across from her own.
E&B
"So what is it you do, Edward? I bet you have a very important job with that suit of yours," Bella says, getting the rest of the pleasantries out of the way.
"I work in the district attorney's office. But I think I might actually hate my job," he blurts out, startling himself with such blatant honesty.
"Then quit," she counters back, as though it could be just that easy.
"Yeah, I don't think I could do that," he says.
"See?" she says with a small smile teasing at her mouth, "I knew you were important. An important man in an important suit with a very important tie."
He gives a self-deprecating chuckle and starts absently playing with the napkin under his half-empty coffee cup, "It's definitely not that I'm important. I think I'm just in too deep now. I thought... well I guess I thought I wanted this." He stops fidgeting with the napkin and looks her straight in the eye.
"What do you mean, you thought you wanted it?" Something in her face tells him that she genuinely wants to know.
"I mean... I guess, sometimes this stuff sneaks up on you. I fell in love with the law in college and decided to go to law school. Got a job right out of law school and did well, so they promoted me. Kept getting promoted. Then it's like you end up with this job that you don't even like, but people say you're good at it. I love the law and I love what I used to do... but now it's so political. Now..." He shakes his head as if to rid himself of a thought, "Now, it doesn't seem worth it. I'm not happy. I don't think I've been happy for awhile now." Edward can't believe he's opening up this much to a total stranger. He also can't believe how perfectly normal it feels. He lets out a chuckle, "I bet you don't know what that feels like. You seem... so happy."
She smiles brightly, "I am. I'm a writer... freelance." She motions to the forgotten pen and paper. The laptop is sleeping to her left. "Today I had some time, so I'm kind of using it to work on a personal project. A novel. I leave tomorrow for Italy... Florence, actually. I'm going over there to do some research for an article on Botticelli for Smithsonian," she explains. "Some of his most famous works are in a gallery in the Uffizi. So I'll be visiting there a lot, but I'm also going to write about the city itself."
"Oh yeah? Wow... Italy... that sounds amazing," he says, smiling at her obvious enthusiasm.
"Yeah, it is. I travel a lot... you know, for my work. Like for inspiration or information or to just immerse myself in another culture. That kind of thing. But sometimes I just go for my own sanity. I don't really like staying put."
"Really?" he asks, enthralled with her lifestyle. He can't imagine just picking up and travelling halfway around the world. There would be so many loose ends to tie up at the office before he left, it almost wouldn't be worth the trouble.
She laughs lightly, "Yeah. My mother says I'm restless - never content with my life, but my best friend calls it wanderlust. She says that I am content, that travelling is my life. I tend to agree more with her... I think my mom just misses me too much when I'm gone. You know... wants me to settle down, and all of that normal 'mom' stuff."
"Well whatever it is - restlessness or wanderlust or whatever - it sounds fantastic. I would love to just be able to get away from life for awhile. Recharge my batteries."
"Then go. What's stopping you?"
He shrugs after a thoughtful pause, "I guess I don't really know. Job mostly..." He shakes his head and lets out a frustrated sigh.
She stares back at him for a moment. Without warning, her eyes light up and she asks, "Do you dance, Edward?"
"Dance?" he asks, slightly confused by her sudden change in topic. "I guess so? I haven't really danced in years, but I mean... yeah. Yeah. I dance."
"Good." As she says the word, a huge smile breaks out on her face.
E&B
In a club a few blocks down from Bella's apartment, Edward sits on a low, dark green sofa. He had been introduced to about twenty people on the way in, but he can't remember a single name. He'd been paying too much attention to Bella and the way her hips swayed slowly to the beat of the music even when she wasn't trying to dance.
Leaning back into the soft cushions, he takes in the unfamiliar scene around him. Hippie jam-band music blows loudly from the speakers and the faint smell of weed and incense permeates the air. On the wall behind the sofa, there is a huge, colorful mural depicting what he's fairly certain is a Hindu goddess with about eight arms. He feels out of place in his collared shirt and dress pants, but he looks at her and he belongs.
Bella walks over to him with two bottles of beer and hands him one. He takes a sip and savors the hops as she sits down next to him. Her lithe body fits into his side as though she has always been there. Something about this woman and this night just feels so right to him. On some level, he knows he should be freaked out by this, knows that he should tell her he has to go - has to work, but he just can't. She is too important to him, even now. Even after only a few short hours.
He lets his arm fall gently over her shoulders and leans in close to ask, "Is this okay?"
Her dark eyes sparkle when she smiles up at him, "It's perfect." Her face becomes inquisitive, "Are you having fun? I know this isn't... like... your normal hangout or whatever."
He laughs, "My normal hangout is the conference room down the hall from my office. This place is great. And I'm definitely having fun." He leaves out that it doesn't matter where they are, he would be having a great time as long as it was with her. "So, hey... tell me more about what you're going to do over in Italy." He wants to hear her speak again, wants to learn everything about her.
She sits up straighter and turns a bit to face him, obviously eager about this topic of conversation, "Oh my gosh, I really think it's going to be amazing. I mean, I've been to Italy before, but this will be my first trip to Florence." Edward can tell that she is truly excited about her trip and the article she will be working on; she's gesturing wildly with her hands, and he finds it strangely endearing. "Anyway, so... the article. Botticelli was a part of the Florentine school of artists and even though the article is going to focus on Botticelli the painter, it's also going to focus on the setting of where he painted. And when he painted. This trip is really just to get the feel of the city and... and... the culture and the romance of it all.
"He had patrons, you know, who literally paid him to do what he loved. You've probably actually heard of them - the de' Medici family?" Edward nods as the name brings him back to his Western Civilizations class in college. "They were incredibly powerful politically, but they also had a huge impact on the art world. Like who was famous and who wasn't. I'll basically be studying the 'Hollywood' of the 15th century. I mean, Botticelli moved in the same circles as Donatello and Michelangelo. It's just fascinating."
While she speaks, he studies her and finds himself completely in awe of this incredible woman. To be so passionate about life and to feel so strongly about her job; he can only imagine feeling that way. He reaches up to touch her face, "You're beautiful."
His blunt honesty causes her to turn pink with embarrassment. She bursts into gorgeous laughter and playfully shoves him, "And you're crazy." The song changes to a slower, less frantic beat and she rises to her feet, "Dance with me."
He lets her lead him to the small dance floor and watches as she moves her body with the floating melody, turning slowly to face him. Placing his hands on her hips, he pulls her body to his. He moves his arms around her back to hold her there and he is once again stunned at how perfectly she fits against him.
Her face tilts up so she can look him in the eye. With a curious expression, she asks, "So, what was it that made you walk in the café today? I'm there a lot - I like to write there - and I've never seen you before. I would have remembered you."
He smiles softy and replies, "I was about to go back to the office to finish some work and there you were. Walking down the street. And then you smiled this little smile and I wanted to know why you smiled. So I just... followed you. There was just something..." He shakes his head, unable to articulate exactly how he'd felt that afternoon.
"I know," she whispers. Her hands move up around his neck and she tangles her fingers in his hair. "I felt you looking at me. In the cafe. I was trying to write and trying to focus and all I could think about was how much I wanted you to come over and talk to me."
He laughs, "And there I was, trying desperately to stay in my chair. I sat there for the longest fifteen minutes of my life, trying to sit still and not walk over and talk to you."
Her beautiful laughter rings out in response, "Well, I hate to tell you this, but you failed. Totally and completely."
He dips his head down and whispers into her ear with a low voice, "If you hadn't been so tempting, maybe I would have been more successful in my endeavors."
Her lips pull into a seductive grin, "I'd say you made out pretty good." At that, she moves up onto her toes and gently presses her lips to his.
What starts as a slow burn quickly escalates to an inferno on the dance floor. During their exchange, they had been moving slowly to the low beat of the music; with this kiss, the slow sway of friends becomes the seductive dance of lovers. She thrusts her body into his while lifting her head slightly so his traveling lips can assault her neck.
His hands drop below her hips and he forcefully grinds her even closer. Her breath is ragged in his ear. He revels in the feel of her body in his arms while they move ever closer to the inevitable.
She is warm, ready to get out of this bar and about to jump out of her skin to get to him. "Take me home with you," she whispers in his ear.
E&B
Edward runs his fingers along the side of her face, tracing her delicate features and committing them to memory. He never wants to forget how she is right here, right now in his arms.
Her body shifts slightly and he groans at the contact. A giggle escapes her mouth and she brings a hand up to swat him away, "Stop it... that tickles..."
"I can't help it. You're entirely too beautiful... I need to keep touching you to make sure you're real." His voice comes out as a low whisper in her ear, making a shiver run up her spine.
"Mmmm... I promise I'm real. But please don't stop... I need you to keep touching me, too." She grabs his wrist and brings his hand down beneath the covers. "But touch here." She lets out a low moan as he strokes her.
He quirks an eyebrow, "Again?"
"Oh... yes... I want..." she manages only this one incoherent thought before he expertly moves his stroking fingers inside her. "Mmmm, yes..."
He uses his other hand to gently tilt her face to his until he can catch her lips with his own. Her body ignites with his kiss and she grabs onto him as she begins to roll her hips with the movement of his skilled hand.
"Edward," she gasps through heaving breaths. "Please..."
Already hard and waiting, Edward sees the desperation in her eyes and moves on top of her. Wanting to give her exactly what she needs, he deftly replaces his fingers with himself. Just like the first two times, entering her is practically transcendent. Everything and everyone before her had just been sex; this with her is something else, something better, something entirely other.
He reaches up and entwines his fingers with hers while his hips keep up their rhythmic thrusts, "Look at me. Don't close your eyes."
Yes and there and more float from her mouth. She breathes the words into his ear and he is sure that nothing else has ever sounded so good. Her hand drags up his back and his breath catches when her fingers dig into his shoulder. He can feel it building, feel it coming. Her fingers scratch and pull his skin when she can't stand it anymore.
"Oh, shit..."
Her jaw drops, her head falls back and he repeats, "Look at me, love. Don't close your eyes." She snaps her gaze back to his, making every sensation more intense. With that, her body clenches and grips him as she finds her release. Her gaze never wavers, never falters. In that moment, they truly become one person, breathe one breath. The powerful grip of her climax triggers his own and his body stills as he pulses deep inside her.
Flushed and beautiful, she looks up at him with wild hair and wild eyes, "God. You make me want to stay."
Everything about this woman is tempting. He wants to say yes and stay and please, but when he looks in her eyes, he can't make his mouth form the words that would confine her to his life. She should be out there living a life that he can only wish for. He can't take that from her. It wouldn't be fair to take away her life... her dream. So he doesn't say it.
But with that one look, she knows. She knows what he wants to say and exactly why he can't. So she says the only thing she can, "Come with me."
E&B
Manhattan A.D.A. Edward Cullen's alarm goes off at 5:30am and he fumbles to turn off the incessant beeping. Reaching for his phone, he sees five messages from Marc and a missed call. Already. He knows that skipping out on work last night probably created huge problems with his ongoing cases, and figures now is as good a time as any to finally deal with them. Flopping back down onto his pillow with a groan, he dials.
"Hey Marc... no... no I haven't started on that. Something came up yesterday. Just something I had to deal with. Listen... Hey, man... you going to let me talk? Thank you. Listen, I don't think I'm going to start that proposal today. Because I'm not coming in. Because..." He turns his head and looks over to the naked woman stumbling out of bed and making her way toward the bathroom to take a shower. His face breaks into a huge grin. "I have to go to Italy."
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