DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are all property of Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement intended.
A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Kfulkerson. I may not have written a formal chapter from Edward's POV but I decided to write this outtake instead. It'll be posted as a different story, which will be a collection of outtakes from Edward's POV.
Thanks to all of you who have reviewed, followed, and favorite'd Where We Come From. Your support is what keeps me writing.
This chapter is unbeta'd. Any and all mistakes are mine.
Outtake #1: Edward's Point Of View
"Meet me in the back lavatory once we're settled," a dark haired stewardess says with a wink—Maria was written in silver letters on her nametag—before moving on to help another passenger. I nod in her direction.
I sit down and pull my phone out of my pocket—seeing I have an unread text message from Emmett, my twenty-year-old cousin. He's really close to my parents, probably closer than any of our other cousins. Growing up, he was a constant fixture in our household. Even now, he still hung out at my parents' house more than any of my siblings do.
Aunt Liz and Ed are meeting you at the airport when you land. Said they would be by the monitors. See ya when I see ya. –Em
Thanks for the head's up, cuz… Should be taking off soon. –E
"Sir, we require for all electronics to be turned off during take-off." It's the same dark haired woman from earlier. Did she really think we're going to fuck in the lavatory? I know some people wouldn't put it past me, but I'd like to think I have more decency than that. Though it'll be difficult to resist such an attractive looking woman. Gah, the way that uniform hugs those curves…
Sighing, I turn my phone off and slide it into the exterior pocket of my suitcase. I lean back into the worn seat and rest my hands on the sides of my head.
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It's not until we're halfway through the flight that Maria approaches me again. This time, I notice her brown eyes are cloudy, and she's fiddling with one of the top buttons on her blouse. Taking her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes meet mine and they dart in the direction of the lavatory.
She continues making her way down the aisle and I hear the door open and close behind her. I remove the napkin from my lap, looking around me. When I'm sure there's nobody watching me, I make my way down the short aisle from my seat to the lavatory and open the door.
Closing and locking the door behind me, I see she's sitting on the small sink. Her legs are spread wide and she's unbuttoning her shirt. I can see her nipples hardening under my gaze and her breathing audibly increases.
"I've been waiting long enough for you, Mr. Masen." With that, she pulls me to her by my collar and smashes her lips against mine. Her lips are firm against mine, demanding, and the sounds she's making are making me achingly hard. I palm her breasts through her shirt, flicking her nipples with the pads of my fingers.
She groans loudly.
Her hands find my pants and get to work on unbuckling them. Soon, she frees me of the confines of my clothing. She pulls out what looks like a condom packet from her jacket pocket. Tearing it, she rolls the rubber on my length, before taking ahold of me between her hands. With my hands between on her hips, she arches her back and thrusts her hips upwards to assist me entering her.
Her walls clamp down on me, her heat surrounding me in a second. All I can hear are feral noises escaping her wide mouth as I thrust in and out of her until I find my release.
I slide the condom off and dump it in the toilet, flushing it before redressing and turning to face her.
"Don't try to look up my information, sweetheart. I have no interest in seeing you again." I see her eyes beginning to shine, rimming with unshed tears. Before the waterworks come, I finish buttoning up my shirt and exit the lavatory.
Thankfully, I had a travel-sized bottle of my cologne in my suitcase.
Note to self: try not to smell like sex when meeting Ma. She'll chew me a new one.
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"Ladies and gentlemen, flight 4487 from Chicago to Seattle has landed safely. Local time is 9:10 PM. It's also 73 degrees Fahrenheit and windy. Thank you for flying with us and we hope you enjoy your stay." The pilot's raspy voice fades out, just to be replaced by the squeaky voice of a stewardess asking passengers to remain seated until they give the go-ahead. I always hate this part of flying. One would think they'd tire of repeating the same things over and over again, but they don't seem to.
The flight from O'Hare into SeaTac was relatively smooth—there was some turbulence but at least there weren't toddlers kicking the back of my seat, just a couple of older women gossiping. Somewhere at 30,000 feet, I had managed to find an empty lavatory to wash my teeth and re-apply my cologne.
Unbuckling the lap belt, I glance out the small window. The skies are dark by the time I bother to lift the shade, stars sparkling in the sky and the moon as bright. People are buzzing around on the runway, pushing carts to the gate. I can also hear passengers' footsteps thumping up and down the aisle.
"Sir," I look up to see a stewardess, holding her bag tightly. Her blonde hair is pinned tightly in a bun at the top of her head, and her sea-blue eyes are bright with amusement. "We need to finish escorting the final passengers off the plane. Is there anything you need?" She raises her eyebrows suggestively, sliding a napkin with her phone number and a lipstick kiss on it. A part of me can't help but feel disgusted by her forwardness, but the other part of me feels smug.
I stand from my seat, a yawn escaping me before I open the overhead compartment and pull out my brief case. From the corner of my eye, I see the blonde stewardess still standing there with a smile. I smirk in her direction, grab my iPhone from the seat, and make my way out of the plane.
The walk from the terminal down to the luggage claim is quicker than I want it to be, and it isn't long before my suitcase finds me before I even begin looking for it. For this time of night, the airport isn't very busy so it's easy to see my parents standing the monitors. Ma and Dad don't look any different from when I last saw them a few months ago, both dressed in unusually comfortable clothing. They wave as soon as they see me. Ma drops her purse and runs to me, hugging me as tightly as her small frame will allow.
"Oh, baby," she cries, her green eyes reaming with unshed tears. "You shouldn't be away for so long again! I've missed you so much." I see Dad through the corner of my eye, dabbing his signature handkerchief at his eye. She pulls away, straightening her shirt and wiping her eyes. "Renée called not long before you landed, sweetheart. She said Bella's at a sleepover tonight with some girlfriends and asked us to stop by the house for a cup of tea. Would you like to join us?" I nod, running a hand through my thick hair.
"Sure, Ma. I won't stay for long but the least I can do is to stop by and say hello." A huge smile graces her face, joy radiating from her features.
"Thank you, Edward! I can only imagine how tired you are but it means a lot to your father and me that you're here again." I smile down at my mother, placing a kiss to her cheek.
"I may not show it often, but I'd do anything for you." She squeezes my waist once more before she picks up my briefcase and leads the way to the car, Dad and I following closely. Their car is parked by the curb, covered in fresh rain. Dad runs over to the driver's side and starts the car while I pull my hood up and help Ma inside the car. I knock on the trunk door and it opens. Sliding my suitcase into the trunk, I look over and see my parents kissing softly. I sigh, slamming the door shut and making myself into the car.
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The drive to the Swan house isn't as bad as I had been expecting it to be. Ma's filling me in on how Isabella's been doing, and how she's so close to graduating. It's all great. I remember first meeting Isabella Swan when she was just a newborn—barely three months old—but she was beautiful even then. Through the years, Charlie and Renée continued sending pictures and newspaper clippings of her accomplishments. After Isabella reached a certain age, I stopped visiting them all together. To me, it was bad enough that she'd hate when she found out about our impending marriage.
Upon arriving, Ma is quick to go inside and start gossiping while Dad and I linger outside smoking a cigarette before making our way inside as well.
"Edward!" Charlie pats my back enthusiastically. "You look well, my boy."
"Thank, Charlie. How's business been?" His face lights up at the mention of business and he goes into his tales. I zone out for most of the conversation.
"…But then Bella had to go meet Rosalie. You remember Rosalie, don't you? Well, she's the Hale's little girl… So then you have Bells, who's your girl next door standing next to Rosalie—who's supermodel gorgeous… Your mom couldn't stop laughing when we told her about this."
As if on cue, both sets of parents start laughing. And so begins what feels like the longest night…