Hey guys! This is my very first songfic, based on Taylor Swift's I'd Lie. Don't knock it til you read it! And for my loyal readers, I'm still working on my fic "In Perfect Time," I swear!
It's hot and crowded in the small club outside of Forks. It's called the Woodlands, out in the middle of nowhere and full of underage girls with super-padded bras and legs as wobbly and skinny as Bambi's. Though the men in the club are nearly always unattractive and overeager, I love coming here. That is, I love coming here with Edward Cullen, my best friend from the time of middle school, when we were both awkward – even more so than these teeny boppers are.
Edward had bright orange hair then and braces. He was short, with proportionately huge feet and a head that gave him a strange top-heavy look. I was small for my age, with thick glasses and frizzy hair. Neither of us looked like we were anything special. When all the other kids were getting their first bras and muscles, Edward and I were stuck together, the late bloomers of Forks Middle School.
Then, the summer before 9th grade happened. Edward shot up almost overnight to 6 feet tall, lanky, but with wiry muscles that girls seemed to want to touch. All the time. All the goddamn fucking time. It didn't help that his braces came off to reveal a crooked smirk that managed to look confident and shy at the same time and his hair darkened to a beautiful reddish-brown color that made his bright green eyes reach out and slap me in the face several times a day.
Yep. I was fucked. Because, although by that point I had managed to tame my frizz and get contacts, I was still just a small, plain brunette. The more popular Edward got, the more I managed to fade into the background. And that really sucked. Because Edward Cullen was completely out of my league. And I had fallen for him way back in 7th grade. By then, I figured out that I was pretty much fucked for the rest of my life. Because when you fall for Edward Cullen, he doesn't pick you up. He smirks at you and somehow both you and your panties drop even further.
But of course Mr. Perfection never faltered at all the new attention. No, he stayed loyal to me, introducing me as his best friend to all of his jock buddies, narrowing his eyes at anyone who looked at me wrong. I guess I figured that he'd eventually mess up, ostracize me in all my plain ordinariness for a pretty Barbie of a girlfriend or better spot on the football team. But somehow, he managed to avoid dating, saying that all the girls who threw themselves at him every day were too ordinary. Yep. That would be my hope. Hiding somewhere under several layers of crust and mantle and core near the middle of this planet, where it was warm and bright and somehow able to exist. Because if statuesque blond beauties were too ordinary, there was no way I'd ever get a second look.
Senior year, he applied to all the same colleges as me: Dartmouth, Columbia, Harvard, Yale, NYU, and my backup, Washington State. I got into only one. Guess which? He got into the same one, so we were "forced" to spend another four years together. Which was good for the sadist in me, who didn't want to move on or start dating anyone who wasn't Edward.
We both wanted to be teachers. I'd always loved young children and music, so an elementary school music teacher was all I wanted. Edward wanted to be a high school English teacher, his inner nerd showing in his gigantic smile whenever Shakespeare, Byron, or Keats was mentioned in conversation. Luckily, when we got out of school, there were several opening in Forks School District, so we got to have our dream positions in our hometown.
And suddenly, we were both 28 and single, rooming together like we had since the second year of college (and yes. He walked around shirtless. A lot. And yes. I have a drooling problem. Sadist, remember?). Somehow, I was still a virgin. That "somehow" being Edward Cullen and his goddamn six pack and bed head in the mornings when I went to the kitchen for coffee. Let's be honest. My expectations are so large, they have their own area code. At this point, I knew I was doomed to be a cat lady, so whatever.
That brings us to tonight. The Woodlands, the underage girls, the creepy men, Edward and I. The reasons I keep convincing Edward to come here are simple: 1) Girls Edward could not possibly be attracted to, thus less chance of Edward finding his beautiful soul mate and leaving me forever to wallow in my scoop-able kitty litter and deep fried snacks. 2) Dancing with Edward in a confined space. Touching. Hnnnng. 3) The cute little snarl Edward gets on his face whenever a creeper leers at me or acts as though he's going to touch me inappropriately. Plus, the bartender brings us free drinks for being the only sane people in the place. Which is always good.
"Ready to go?" Edward says into my ear. I shiver. Edward, being Edward, looks concerned. We bump through the crowd, Edward's snarl firmly in place. I shiver again. He puts his arm around my waist and looks at me, even more concerned. As soon as we're out of the pulsing bass and flashing lights, he puts his hands on my shoulders and peers into my eyes, which always have red rims when I'm getting sick, according to Mr. I-Know-I'm-An-English-Teacher-But-I-Also-Know-What-I'm-Talking-About. He actually has very good bedside manner. I'm sure he has good in-bed manner too, but that's all conjecture. Unfortunately. "Are you okay?" he asks. "I felt you shiver."
"I'm fine," I respond. "That weirdo with the blonde ponytail was freaking me out a little, that's all." Okay, so it's a fib, but he doesn't have to know that I'm pulling out a random description because he was the only one I was focusing on. He pinches the bridge of his nose with two fingers.
"Yes, that was one of the reasons I suggested we leave. It was only a matter of time before I was going to have to defend your virtue."
I roll my eyes. "Whatever, Shakespeare. What were you planning on doing? Boring him to death with Dostoyevsky?" He laughs at that and makes a face. Neither of us ever liked Crime and Punishment.
We get into his sports car and start home. Yes, the hot man has a hot sports car. Because, as if he weren't in demand enough, he had to be a trust-fund baby, born with a silver spoon sticking out of his mouth and all that. Me? Yeah, I'm the daughter of a goddamn police chief. I got nothin' on good ole EC.
I'll be honest, normally I hate the passenger seat. I love driving, especially in my vintage Chevy truck. Edward hates it, but I refuse to "be sensible and get something safer."Come on! "Safe" translates into not having character in Edward-language, which I speak fluently and teach several courses in at the local college.
But Edward driving? Sexy. Dead sexy. The tendons in his arms ripple every time he turns the wheel, and his boring "safety first" views on driving make sure that he look straight ahead at all times, meaning that I can study him and choose the music, two of my favorite things. So that night, the free drinks safely in my belly, the passenger seat looked pretty great.
He laughed as soon as I shut the door. "God that was awful. Why are all of those girls so slutty?" He looked over at me, perplexed.
"Maybe it has something to do with your looks, Mr. Greek God," I said, then hiccoughed.
"Greek god?" he laughed. "Okay, Drunky. Let's get you home."
I really wasn't that drunk, but he didn't need to know that.
"By the way, remind me not to fall in love with you. Like ever," he said, "You just shut down an entire bar full of men drooling over you. I thought the one guy was going to punch me when he realized you were going home with me tonight."
I started laughing, because the only hope I have is that he will, someday, fall in love with me despite everything. Maybe if he somehow becomes poor or ugly. Yep. I'm hoping for paralysis. I may not be able to take a ride on his disco stick, but at least he would be on my level for once. Nah… on second thought, I really want that ride.
I turned my iPod to my Edward playlist, the one containing all his favorite driving songs. It's always good to watch him bop his head around. For all the things Edward Cullen excels at, he still has an awkward gingery nerd inside… and he dances like it.
"You always have the best music!" Edward shouted over the music.
I rolled my eyes. It never registers that I just happen to have all of his favorite songs. He's a dipshit, but I love him.
Monday morning, I walk into a pristine classroom, ready to be sullied by sticky fingers and overeager instrumentalists. I love my job. My students rush in and out of the room, leaving behind echoes of laughter and the smell of crayons and I can't help thinking about how badly I want one of my own.
Finally, the day comes to a close and I stumble into the parking lot and Edward's cute little Volvo (don't ever let him catch you calling it cute, though. Sheesh.)to wait for him. Ten minutes past the time he normally leaves the building and I began to get worried. I was about to call him when I received a text: "Blackbird fly." Uh-oh. That would be the distress call. Instantly, I morph into a secret agent. A finger gun and ridiculous theme song may or may not have ensued. Whatever, judger. It was a rough day, okay?
Casually (after brushing the dirt from the asphalt of the parking lot off of my knees – okay it was ONE barrel roll. Get over it.) I walked into the teacher's lounge. Edward's face lit up like I wish it would whenever he saw me, and I looked at the new secretary in the office, Lauren. All UP in my man's bidness. Her whore-red fingernails were digging into his bicep, her breasts pushed up and into Edward's innocent little face. Poor kid. Probably didn't know what hit him.
"Edward! There you are! Alice just called me. She said you were supposed to pick up Alec a few minutes ago…" I trailed off and gave Lauren a meaningful glare.
"Oh wow I completely forgot," said Edward, smiling at the mention of his sister and adorable nephew. "Sorry, Lauren."
He grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me down the hallway at top speed, making me stumble every few yards when his long legs outpaced mine. "Jesus fuck, Edward! Slow down!" He gave me an apologetic grin that made me stumble again.
"I would, but I just remembered that I have to drop you off and get some birthday present shopping in before the stores in Forks close."
I sighed, "Number one, what stores in Forks? Number two, I told you I hate presents! I tell you every year!" I may have started to dig my heels in and scream WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY a few times, but he was overreacting a bit when he stopped us and glared at me.
"Do you have any idea how long I've been planning this? Don't you want me to be happy?" He pouted. Again with the unfairness.
"Yes, Edward." I rolled my eyes for good measure.
"Well spoiling you makes me happy," he said almost tenderly. "And besides, everyone gets presents for birthdays. That's just how it works." Ugh. That's my Edward, seeing everything in black and white.
He dropped me off at the apartment and waited for me to wave out the window – signaling that I had climbed up the two flights of stairs and opened the door successfully. Yep. We live in FORKS. But whenever I bring that up, he just smiles and tells me that with my luck, there's plenty of opportunity for a violent crime or severe accident.
I decide on a nice bath to prepare me for the horror that will be my 29th birthday. Growing up, I guess I always thought I would be married by now, maybe with a child or two running around. But instead, I am alone and in love with my roommate. So that's good.
From the tub, I heard Edward's louder-than-his-normal-walk superspy shuffle. Obviously he has less skill than me. Just saying. I decided to have mercy on him and went to bed early.
The next morning, Edward woke me up by jumping up and down on my bed like an overgrown, scruffy and unshaven, sexy-as-hell puppy. He had made me breakfast in bed, pancakes dusted with powdered sugar and fresh strawberries. No joke.
"Okay… present time," he looked awkward and a little nervous.
"May as well get it over with," I said.
He walked into his bedroom and brought out the most beautiful guitar I'd ever seen. It was made of a very pale wood, inlaid with flowers stained a darker brown. I burst into tears immediately.
"Oh God you hate it," Edward moaned.
"No, no it's beautiful," I sobbed. "But why are you giving me this? It had to be expensive and…"
"Jesus, Bella." Edward pulled on his hair and sighed. "When are you going to understand that you're worth it?"
He grabbed the guitar off the bed and sat down, starting to strum it.
"Wait… you don't know how to play guitar!" I looked at him, confused.
He laughed almost bitterly. "I learned how to play in high school. See, I fell in love with a girl who never gave me the time of day. I followed her around pathetically and she never looked at me as anything more than a friend. She was into music, so I learned to impress her. But I was too scared to show her and now I'm afraid it's too late."
I couldn't help it. I began to cry harder. The guy I was in love with, the one that I had spent my life on, following him around like he followed the girl he was talking about, was in love with someone else. He hadn't been pushing girls away because of me, but because of this girl.
"Bella? Why are you crying?" his faced looked happy briefly through the tears. "Bella, do you… do you love me?"
I looked up, horrified that he knew my secret. "N-no," I stuttered, "No of course not." Then I ran. In my pajamas. I ran down the street to Alice Hale's house. Yes, she was Edward's sister, but was also my friend and had known that I loved Edward my entire life.
I slammed my hands against her door until my palms stung.
When she answered, her dark blue eyes were freaky and knowing, like they always are. "Dad's already here to treat the cut on your knee." I looked down to see my leg covered in blood. I didn't even remember falling. The sight and smell of the blood was almost welcome for once, and did its work quickly. Alice caught me just before I hit her doorstop. Then, finally, everything was dark.
When I woke up, Edward's eyes were looking down on me. I smiled, before realizing that the eyes belonged to Carlisle Cullen, not Edward. The tears started almost immediately. I looked over at Alice. "He knows, Alice! He knows and I'm going to lose him."
She laughed, "Honey, you two were meant to be together."
I tried to interject a "Yeah. Okay." But she held up her tiny hand imperially. I put as much disdain and frustration as I could into a huff-and-eye-roll combo instead.
"As I was saying," she glared at me. I cowered. "As I was saying, I just got the same exact phone call from my brother. Now that he thinks the secret's out, I'll tell you. He's just as in love with you as you are with him. He has been since high school, you idiot. Both of you! All this time has been wasted because neither of you has any balls and both of you have self-esteem issues and think you aren't good enough. THANK FUCKING GOD! I'VE HOLDING THAT BACK WAYYYYY TOO LONG."
I stared at Alice, my mouth hanging open, as every moment of my life passed before my eyes. I was the one Edward asked to every middle school and high school dance. I was the one he kissed on the corner of the mouth every New Years. I was the one he lived with. I was the one who got to eat his famous pancakes. I was the one who he bought guitars for. Shit. I was the one he learned guitar for. I was the one he thought he had followed like a puppy! And I was the one who had told him I didn't love him. I was the one who ran, when he had tried to confess his love for me.
I jumped up and galloped to the door, Carlisle's warning "watch those fresh stitches!" falling on deaf ears. I took off across the street and up the flights of stairs. But when I finally got the door open, the apartment was silent.
"Edward?" I called as I ran through the empty rooms. I started to sob when I opened his door and found his room torn to pieces, as if my gentle Edward had destroyed it in pain and anger. His old blue duffel bag was missing from its normal spot under the bed.
I stumbled to my room, to my bed. My new guitar lay on my pillow, with a note next to it. "It's still yours. I'll be at my parents' house. Give me some time. I called Jake at the Autoshop. He said your truck will be ready today and he'll bring it over. Edward."
I knew he meant the guitar was still mine, but all I could think, sitting in my bed with only my guitar for company after refusing the only person I would ever love, was that I hoped he was alluding to his heart as well. Because, despite the fact that I had spit on it, abused it, hell, taken a shit on it, it was my most prized possession.
I week went by, day after day crawling slowly without anything but loneliness to mark them. I hadn't truly realized that I lived for the time I spent with Edward. Now, it seemed, there was no bright spot in my day.
Luckily the next week was the school's big talent show. I was distracted from thoughts of Edward by the auditions and rehearsals. It wasn't until a sweet little girl named Bree asked me if I would perform, that I realized I still had a chance with Edward.
He had been avoiding me, refusing to answer my calls and leaving whenever I tried to visit him at his parents' house or the school. I was absolutely desperate. But he had to come to the talent show because Alec was in it, playing the piano like the child prodigy I swore up and down he was. And Edward could avoid me if I was chasing him around, with his long legs or the men's bathroom (yeah. He would stoop that low), but he always said that he couldn't take his eyes off me when I was on stage. It was time to prove that theory.
I got home and searched through my vast iTunes library for a song that would make him understand. I finally found it, adjusted the lyrics a little, and started to practice on Rose, my favorite and newest guitar. He wouldn't know what hit him.
Two days later, I watched from behind a red velvet curtain as the audience filed in. My breath caught in my throat as Edward walked into the auditorium. He looked haunted, his eyes bloodshot as if he hadn't gotten much sleep, his hair mussed – he had obviously been tugging it with his hands like he did whenever he was frustrated. He looked awful. That's when it hit me: this man actually loved me. He was perfect, the kind of guy chick flicks were modeled on. And he. Loved. Me. For once, I decided, I would not fuck things up. For once, I would be worth the kind of love Edward Cullen has. So I walked onto that stage, sat down on the stool at the center and stared right at him as I began to play.
I didn't think that passenger seat
Would ever look this good to me.
He told me about his night,
And I counted the colors in his eyes.
He'll never fall for me he swears
As he ran his fingers through his hair.
I laughed cuz I hoped he was wrong.
And I didn't think it ever crossed his mind,
He told a joke, I faked a smile,
That I've known all his favorite songs.
I could tell you his favorite color's green
He loves to argue
Born on the 17th
His sister's beautiful
He has his father's eyes
And when he asked me if I loved him,
I lied
I saw his eyes grow in confusion, then his entire face light up with one of his crooked grins. He took my breath away and I almost forgot the tampered-with lyrics of the next verse.
He looked around the room
Innocently overlooked the truth
Shouldn't a light go on
Doesn't he know that I've had him memorized for so long
He sees everything black and white,
Never let nobody see him cry
I never let nobody see me wishing he was mine
I could tell you his favorite color's green
He loves to argue
Born on the 17th
His sister's beautiful
He has his father's eyes
And when he asked me if I loved him,
I lied.
He stood there then walked away
My god if I could only say
I'm holding every breath for you
He'd never tell you,
But he can play guitar
I think he can see through everything but my heart
First thought when I wake up
Is my god he's beautiful
So I put on my makeup
And pray for a miracle
Yes I could tell you his favorite color's green
He loves to argue
Oh and he kills me
His sister's beautiful
He has his father's eyes
And when he asked me if I loved him
When he asked me if I loved him,
I lied
I flew back stage, hoping to catch him before he left and ran into a panting Edward. He smiled, catching me around my waist. "Beat ya," he whispered as he lowered his lips to mine. I found that it was hard to kiss him and smile at the same time, but entirely impossible to stop smiling or kissing him.
It wasn't until we were in the car, holding hands over the center console, that Edward said, "Wait, was that Taylor Swift? As in, my least favorite artist of all time?" I nodded, smiling impishly.
"Well," he said, "I think she's growing on me."
With that, we rode off into the sunset in a shiny silver Volvo, our hand woven together in a design only we could recognize anywhere.
And yes. I did take a ride (my maiden voyage – both of ours, to be honest) on his disco stick that night. Twice.
The End