It always starts in a bar, doesn't it? I'm a walking stereotype with my fake ID, sweaty palms, and short dress. Well, a sitting stereotype. I haven't moved from the stool I claimed forty-five minutes ago, much to the irritation of the people elbowing around me to get the bartender's attention.
"Are you feeling better?" Alice yells in my ear, struggling to be heard over the music.
I shrug at her. I'm feeling drunk; I don't know about 'better' – it feels like my thoughts are being emptied out of my body and replaced by sensation, like I'm just a vessel for this experience. My skin is prickling from being brushed by so many people, my ears hollow from the music, my body over stimulated with nervous energy. I've never snuck into a bar before – I lost my audacity for this mission before we stepped inside and not even four servings of liquid courage have bolstered me.
"We can go if you want," she yells again, her dangly earrings reflecting the red and blue lights into small starbursts on her cheeks.
Shaking my head, I pull at her wrist. I don't want to disappoint her when she is trying so hard. "Let's dance."
She's surprised, but grins at me, slugging the rest of her gin and scooting off the stool. With her heels, she's only a couple inches shorter than me. I wonder if she can dance in them. But as I stand up beside her in my much more practical flats, I wonder if I can dance either. My legs feel oddly disjointed from my torso.
"Are you ok?" She's only had two drinks. But I'm the one nursing my broken heart here.
"Yeah, I just got dizzy for a second."
"Hold on to me," she commands in my ear before wading through the crowd.
We find a small niche in the gyrating bodies and begin moving in our own rhythms to the beat of a song that sounds vaguely familiar, though I can't place it. I'm copying her dance moves as best I can, mirroring her body language and weaving back and forth in our tiny gap. She eyes me with the courage I left at the door and swivels her hips gently, pressing one hand to my own hip to help me find the rhythm.
And suddenly I'm having fun. Maybe it's because Alice is subtly manipulating my body into doing something that feels remotely coordinated or because that last whiskey sour is flipping the bird to my liver, but I smile at her. Thank god for Alice. She paid for all the drinks, picked out my outfit, and, most importantly, got me off my couch and away from the tub of Ben and Jerry's.
"Better," she shouts at me, beaming. She isn't asking. She can tell.
'Thank you." It doesn't sound very sincere because I'm yelling three inches from her face, but I mean it.
"Fuck Emmett McCarty" she cheers.
"Fuck Emmett!" I agree wholeheartedly, throwing my hands up. As they fall down, I rest them around Alice's shoulders, hugging her to me, so grateful for her.
"Sharpies?" she laughs in my ear.
Our code word. "Is that bad?" It's been five months.
She laughs louder. "Lifelong deal, remember?" She grasps my hand and pulls it above my head to twirl me. I giggle at her, ducking and spinning. But I'm drunk.
I fall catastrophically – directly into the person behind me.
We both go down in a tangle of legs and intoxication, landing on the cement club floor. I frantically adjust my dress even as I try to help the hapless soul in my destructive wake.
"Oh my god, are you ok?" I shout.
It's a man – all jeans and jaw. He looks startled, holding his head in one hand.
"I'm fine," he shouts back, getting up. "Just hit my head. Are you ok?"
"Just my knee." No doubt the whiskey is lessening the pain. "I'm so sorry! I'm so embarrassed." I'm such a drunk idiot.
"Bella," Alice calls my name, "go to the bathroom where there's light. I'm going to get you some ice from the bar."
I don't have time to argue because she disappears into the crowd. "I'm Bella," I tell the unfortunate stranger as I clamber to my feet.
"Edward." Even in this epileptic-fit-inducing lighting, I can see the bruise forming on his right temple and around his eye socket.
Poor guy probably needs the ice worse than I do. "Come with me," I yell, grabbing his wrist and pulling authoritatively, though I'm only guessing at the location of the bathrooms.
There's a black, leather padded door in the back of the club with a sign above it, proclaiming restrooms are to be found beyond. The second my accommodating cargo and I enter, the relief from the loud music is instant. It's a narrow hallway with cinderblock walls and fluorescent lighting, but the noise is blissfully dull in here. To the right are four doors marked as unisex bathrooms, but the hallway winds around the bulk of the building. There are a few people lingering down the hall probably seeking respite from the music or waiting for bathrooms, one of them holding a cigarette between her fingers.
"I'm so sorry," I apologize again now that I can hear myself think, turning to face him. I can see him better now – definitely handsome. Reddish hair, green eyes, stubble.
"Don't worry about it. It was just an accident." He sounds blasé for someone who looks like he escaped a bar fight, but I'm pretty sure he has sampled the local beverages, too.
"And sorry for dragging you off. I just wanted to make sure you got some ice. My friend is bringing some here, so hopefully the swelling won't be too bad." I examine his temple again, the bright red mark there belying the inevitable bruise.
"Yeah, I heard her. Thank you."
"You're welcome." There's a lull for a moment in which I grow intensely uncomfortable. "So what brings you out tonight?" It's the first question I come up with.
He shrugs. "Just checking the place out."
"Yeah, it just opened last week, right?" I know full well Volterra opened last week. Alice wouldn't shut up about it.
"Yeah."
Ok, Mr. Talkative. "What do you think of it so far?"
"It's not my scene," he admits. I can tell. He seems far too soft-spoken for a place like this. Not that I'm soft-spoken, but I could say the same for myself. "I can see the allure, though."
"Which is?"
"I suppose the reason most people find dancing with strangers appealing."
"Unless those strangers cause you blunt trauma."
He smirks at me and it completely changes his face. "You know, a woman once told me that I wouldn't know something good even if it smacked me upside the head. So I guess she was wrong."
"Wow." I actually say 'wow' out loud. "That's a really good line."
"Thank you. I just thought of that." He's earnest and casual.
"That's probably a good thing. It means you're not being literally swept off your feet all the time." I think that's a pretty good comeback for being a little drunk.
He chuckles and cocks his head like he's taking new stock of me.
Before I entirely lose my head – because I feel my alcohol-infused impulses rattling around in my chest and lower – I ask oh-so-subtly, "Is there anybody you need to let know that you've been assaulted and kidnapped? I don't want people wondering where you are."
"No, I came alone."
Thank god. "Damn. I suppose I can't keep you for ransom then."
"Foiled again," he agrees.
"I'll have to concoct another plan," I tease.
"You'll find that I'm a pretty agreeable abductee." He says it matter-of-factly, but the way he's looking at me makes me think I should exercise my right as a newly single woman to bang a handsome stranger. But that might be the whiskey talking.
"There you are!" Alice cries, bursting in from the club door, causing the other people in the hallway to stare. "Bella, are you ok? Are you the guy she almost killed?" Her head swivels between the two of us, holding two cups of ice.
I duck my head, embarrassed. "Alice, Edward. Edward, Alice."
"Well, at least you fell into a cute one," she says to me, no filter as usual. "I brought ice." She eyes his injuries. "You definitely need it. Did you hit your head on the floor?"
"Um, I think I got a foot to the face somewhere on the way down."
"I am so sorry," I repeat myself again, covering my face with my hands.
"If anything, I would be more worried about that knee." He calmly points to my left leg where there is already clear swelling.
"Damn," I mutter, pressing the edge of the cold cup to my joint. "This is going to hurt like a bitch tomorrow."
"That does look pretty nasty," Alice agrees. "Do you want to call it a night?"
"No, I'm fine. Really." I incline my head slightly towards Edward and widen my eyes at her for a moment.
She understands immediately and tries to hide her smile. "Well, if we're staying, you better buy this poor guy a drink to make up for bashing his face."
Oh, Alice, I love you. "I did say I was kidnapping you," I joke. "Can I buy you a drink? You know, to cement the Stockholm Syndrome and all."
He looks uncomfortable.
"Or not," I add quickly. "I mean, you're probably in pain and –."
"No," he interrupts softly, "it's just . . . I don't drink."
"Oh." I start laughing. Why the hell is he in a bar?
His eyes narrow, challenging me, probably not keen on my giggles. "I'll take a dance instead of a drink."
Alice whistles. "He's a brave one, Bella."
"Sure, but I can't promise your safety."
"I'm willing to take the risk."
And, just like that, we're out on the dance floor again, Alice watching us from the bar, holding our only briefly used ice cups, and grinning ear to ear. Maybe I'm sobering up, but my heart is racing. It occurs to me that I don't know how to do this. Am I supposed to put my arms around his neck like prom? The song is too upbeat to slow dance. Grind on him like a music video? Way too aggressive. Not touch him at all? So awkward.
Luckily, he saves me, putting his hands on my hips. It feels gentlemanly and far too intimate at the same time. I press one hand to his chest and one to his shoulder, swaying my hips like Alice did, but feeling robotic and self-conscious. Am I supposed to make eye contact?
I chance it because I feel prickles on my skin.
He's already looking at me.
Breathing out slowly, I close my eyes, trying to find a semblance of rhythm and stepping in closer to him until our legs touch. I can feel him moving to the beat more easily, synching my body to his and relaxing into his muscles. And, just like with Alice – there it is. I feel it suddenly: confidence, sexiness, and ease.
My eyes slip open again and I smile seductively at him, my hand running lower on his torso. I can have him if I want. I already have him. I know it. He grips my hips tighter, reeling me in closer like he's read my thoughts. Maybe it's plain on my face.
I writhe, brushing against his pelvis and letting my questing hands find purchase on his back, forearms, and abdominal muscles. Mr. Talkative, more assertive than I thought, does not bother exploring, going straight for ass-grabbing without apology or preamble. Turning my back to him, I press flush against him to the sound of an audible groan in my ear. I probably groan, too, because he's hard and I can feel it plainly through my thin, short dress.
He breathes on my neck and I feel chills over my entire body. When he stoops to kiss the space under my jaw, I immediately stop dancing and turn around.
His eyes are concerned. "Too much?" he yells.
I shake my head, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the bathrooms for the second time that night. I feel like a wild woman as I shoulder clip people on my mission. I've never done anything so brazen in my life – but I am on fire in the worst way.
Edward understands my purpose quickly, matching my stride. We barely make it into the one open bathroom – ignoring the stares of the lingering people that know exactly what we are doing – before he's pushing me up against the door, hands flush against my ribcage.
"Neck," I groan at him, tilting my head to allow him access.
Obliging, he suckles at my overwarm skin again and I don't remember ever feeling so turned on in my entire life. Then he bites me – harder than I expect – and I cry out, surprised, but liking the pain at the same time. I greedily drag his fingers up to my breasts, wanting more, more, more.
He tastes like ginger ale when I kiss him. I bite his lip – a small revenge.
Pulling back, he stares at me mischievously before lowering his head to my chest, pulling down the front of my dress to expose my breasts, pausing for a second in surprise.
"Wow," he breathes, admiring my piercings. Alice went with me to get them done last year with the same fake IDs we used to sneak in here.
"You like them?" I don't know why I'm asking. I know he does. He's captivated by the tiny silver barbells.
"Yes." To emphasize, he sucks my nipple and then bites just hard enough to make me gasp, grinning up at me.
You bite me, I bite you. The game is clear.
Not to be outdone, I reach down to feel his erection straining in his jeans. It seems almost ridiculously hard and I want to see it so badly.
"Bella?" Alice's voice sounds through the door in sync with her repeated knocking. "Are you in there?"
Oh, shit. I cringe. "Yeah, just a minute."
"Oh, thank god! I thought you were abducted!"
We hurriedly right ourselves, peeling away from the door and taking deep breaths. I know without looking in the mirror that I am bright red. Edward is flushed, too, as he adjusts himself in his pants.
"Don't go."
I smile at him. "I have to."
"I want to see you again."
I hesitate because, for as hot as that was, I don't need another man in my life. I don't need strings or broken hearts. "I'll be here next Saturday at the same time," I decide on the spot. "Come find me?"
"Bella, are you ok?" Alice asks.
"Yes, almost done," I call loudly.
"Saturday?" he repeats seriously.
"Saturday," I confirm, turning towards the door before stopping myself. "Oh, and Edward?"
"Yes?"
I lean into him and deliberately bite at his earlobe. "I win."
He smirks. "For now."
With one last deep breath, I exit into the hallway, practically running directly into Alice.
"Jeez, you were taking so – oh." She catches sight of Edward behind me, her gaze bolting between the two of us quickly, putting together the flushed skin and the messy hair. "Ohhh," she repeats, beginning to laugh. "And here I was thinking I was going to have to call the police."
I smile sheepishly, embarrassed and smug at the same time. "Goodbye," I tell him.
"For now," he repeats.
We wave a last farewell and Alice and I practically run out of Volterra, wanting the quiet of the outside to gossip.
The second we clear the front doors: "Oh. My. God."
"I know!" I'm exhilarated.
"I can't believe you –!" she exclaims.
"I know!"
"And in the bathroom of all –!"
"I know!"
"What happened? I looked away for like, five seconds to give the bartender my phone number."
"Ooh, the bartender?"
"Hey, focus, this is about you almost fucking a guy in the bathroom!" That sounds a bit harsh, but not entirely off the mark.
"He kissed my neck," I explain.
"Oh," she says sagely. She knows how I am about my neck.
"I don't know – we were just dancing and I was getting into it. Once he got to my neck, I practically dragged him to the bathroom."
"This is so exciting! Don't you feel a million times better?"
"Yes," I say honestly. "Thank you for taking me here. I think that whole crazy experience was exactly what I needed to feel . . . I don't know – sexy again."
"That's great, Bella." She's so genuinely happy for me that I want to hug her all over again. "Did you give him your number? He said goodbye for now."
"No, but I told him that I would come back next Saturday."
"Oh my god!" she squeals. "That's perfect because that bartender was so cute."
"I don't know if I'm going back," I caution her.
"Which is totally fine," she assures me. "But if you do want to go back –."
"Then we're going to be locking that door for much longer."
*V*V*V*V*V*
The only problem with waiting a week to go back to the club is all the unsavory things I have to do in between – namely: starting school.
I don't hate school – it's hard to hate what you're good at – but the last time I was here before summer break, Emmett and I had just started our relationship. Or maybe fling is the right word at this point. I don't know anymore.
It all happened very quickly. Emmett lived in Port Angeles before he went to college this fall, but he was a friend of a friend and we bumped into each other at some social event at the Native American reservation west of here. Even from across the room, his laugh was contagious and I was drawn to him. Being unused to male attention, his focus on me was flattering and it did not take much before I agreed to a date. For four months, we laughed and fucked and ate and laughed some more – before he broke up with me abruptly a month before starting his freshman year. He probably just didn't want the dead weight of a high school relationship during his first year of college. I don't entirely blame him for that, but he broke my heart.
"How are you doing?" Alice asks as I approach, waiting by my locker for me. She's dressed in fashionable tan boots and skinny jeans, perfectly coifed for the first day of school. I suppose my hoodie is a good representation of my mood.
"Fine. It's just weird being back."
"I know. At least Saturday is only four days away," she says meaningfully, winking at me. She's excited, too. She's been texting her bartender and has plans to see him Saturday, too.
I can't help myself – I smirk back. The thought of Edward has done much to improve my outlook.
As the five-minute warning bell rings, Alice asks, "You ready to go to class?"
"Nope."
"That's the spirit," she laughs, pulling my wrist.
I give in, letting myself be guided to our first period class, thankful that at least Alice will be with me. My expectations are not high for my fourth consecutive year of hearing Mr. Berty read his syllabus out loud.
The class is only partially full when Alice and I arrive, but, naturally, I recognize everyone. Mike, Angela, Connor, Lauren, Jessica, Tyler. It's odd to know someone for so long that when you look at him, you can simultaneously picture him as a young kid and the more grown person before you. It's like that with everyone here – except for Alice. She moved here freshman year, but even then I can still picture her waist length black hair from before she chopped it into a pixie cut and before her boobs grew in. Ah, youth. I'm sure I looked no better. But Alice and I have been inseparable even since the gawky years.
"Hey, guys!" Jessica greets, completely turning around in her seat to grin at us since we've taken up the farthest back corner of the classroom.
"Hey, Jess, how was your summer?" I ask. Alice doesn't bother. She has never liked Jessica.
"Boring," she sighs, instantly tragic and woeful. "I spent all of it working in my parents' store. What about you?"
I shrug because it's hard to sum up the rollercoaster. "Eh, I'm glad to be back in school."
Jess leans towards us, ready to gossip. "I wasn't until I saw our new English teacher," she giggles.
"Why, what happened to Mr. Berty?" I ask.
"Oh, he's still here. They just needed a new English teacher to cover some more classes – and he is so hot."
A throat clears at the front of the room and my eyes flick ahead. Then my heart stops in my chest for a full three seconds and Alice sucks in a shocked breath beside me.
This can't be happening.
"Fuck," I say out loud, clapping a hand to the foundation-covered bite mark on my neck – like that will hide me. I see Jessica's face turn to mine in surprise out of the corner of my sight, but I can't take my eyes off the train wreck that is unfolding.
His clothes are professional with his slacks and button-down, but his hair is the same. And, as if there was any question as to his identity, there is a purple bruise on his right temple, curling under his eye.
Edward.