Fate's Denial

by Bandwardcontest

Fate hands Bella Swan her dream assignment, throwing her into the eye of the storm and bringing her face to face with her past.

Pairing: Bella, Edward

Genre: Drama, Romance

Summary: Fate hands Bella Swan her dream assignment, throwing her into the eye of the storm and bringing her face to face with her past.

Word count: 5,458

Disclaimer: The author does not own any of the publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

Bella, can you come into my office?" Jasper shouts.

"Someone's in trouble," Alice sings out, laughing.

"Shut up," I whisper, flipping her the bird as I pass by her desk. Her giggles fade as I enter his office, closing the door behind sits at his desk, slowly rocking in his chair, hands folded behind his head.

"How would you like to take on Pete's next assignment?"

My heart and stomach do simultaneous jumps. I've been waiting for this chance for far too long.

"Excuse me?" I ask, unsure if I heard him correctly.

"You heard me," he says slowly. "You've been asking since you started here to write a piece for the music section. Just so happens, Pete can't do this one. He's still out with Tanya and their new baby." I'm grinning like an idiot as he continues. "Thing is, this band is pretty hardcore. I'm not sure if you'll be able to get them to open up the way Pete does. He has a knack for connecting with guys like this."

No, he didn't.

"Now wait just a minute," I interrupt him, holding up my hand. "Are you saying that because I don't dress all in black and have my arms covered in tattoos that I can't get some band to talk to me? I'm a goddamn journalist, Jasper. It's my job. Have I failed you on any assignment?"

He slowly shakes his head.

"You've only let me do one full article since I've been here, and that was only because Stella broke her arm and couldn't type. Do you know how that makes me feel, Jasper? Do you?"

"Look, I didn't'-" I cut him off before he can continue.

"No, you look. I'm tired of trying to prove myself to you and Jenks. I'm better than the fucking classifieds, and if you can't see that ... then well ... I'm done."

Beyond pissed, I turn to walk out of his office before the threatening tears fall, but his hand catches my arm just before I reach the door. I rarely cry, but my passionate side sometimes takes over. The main reason I've stuck around this long is because I genuinely like my co-workers. I know I'm better than these mediocre assignments and have wanted to quit more than once. But after a year, I still don't have the heart to leave them, and the money is decent.

"Bella, wait."

I stop but don't turn around.

"My approach was shitty. I'm sorry." He releases his hold on me. "Sometimes, these bands are cocky SOBs and don't like to be pushed for answers. You and I both know that Pete's a sly bastard and can get anyone to talk. I suggested Sam, but Jenks wants you."

This peaks my curiosity. It's no secret that Jenks hates Sam, but he's never suggested me for anything before.

Wiping a tear from my eye, I turn around, but Jasper is walking back to his desk. He sits, leaning back in his chair and stares up at the ceiling, as if he's avoiding me. He blows out a deep breath and straightens up, finally facing me.

"What's the big deal, Jasper?"

"This one could make or break us ... all of us. This interview is going into the first edition of Jenks' spinoff. A whole section of the paper devoted solely to the music scene all over the city. These guys are undiscovered but the real deal; I've heard them myself. They're creating a buzz, and if this goes south, we could all be out of a job. The outcome of this assignment could change everything."

Damn. That's huge.

But where's the fucking vote of confidence from my friend.

"I'll get the interview, Jasper," I promise. If I have to, I'll be flirty—not too much, just enough to gain their cooperation. "We both know that Jenks wants me to do it because he thinks I have a nice rack and a great ass. We also know that I'm better than that.

I won't need to whore myself out, Jasper." For good measure, I wink and smile. He laughs, shaking his head and rubbing his hands over his face.

"But this is different, Bella." He groans.

Shit!

If he's second guessing himself, which is never a good thing, I need to think of something before he completely changes his mind.

"Come on, where's the faith?" I chide. "I know a lot is at stake, but you have to give me this chance. Please ... I can do this."

He pushes the press pass and file to the edge of his desk.

"Look this over first. Then get back to me."

For a moment, he hesitates to release the file. When he finally lets go, I salute him, gather the items, and head back to my desk, dismissing his odd behavior.

Alice watches me curiously when I return.

"What happened? She asks.

"I'm taking over Pete's assignment." I squeal with excitement, holding up the folder.

She tips her pen my way.

"Congrats, Babe. You deserve it."

I nod in agreement, but my happiness turns to anguish when I flip the file open and see his face.

Edward.

Tears emerge, trickling down my face.

From the photo, he stares back at me through haunted eyes. He's bigger than before; at best guess, another twenty or so pounds - which suits him perfectly. He and his bandmates all hold similar, arrogant smirks.

They certainly look like the real deal.

One tear, then another falls on the picture. Frantically, I wipe away the wetness with my hand and then trace his outline with my fingertip. I scan over his info in the bio section, and when I see that it's really him, now going by his middle name, I want to die right here and now.

I search his eyes for answers, while my heart shatters and bleeds.

Jasper's voice breaks my trance. "It's him, isn't it?"

Unable to speak, I nod.

He and Alice know about my past. Outside of the office, they are a couple, and we're all close friends. One night, we went out, and I had way too many drinks. After seeing some guy that resembled Edward, I went into hysterical, ugly cries in the bar bathroom.

The next day, they both grilled me until I'd spilled the entire story.

"Shit ... let Sam do the interview, Bella."

"No, Jasper," I whisper, wiping away my tears and closing the folder. "I need to do this."

Edward and I had met when we were teenagers.

I'll never forget his garage band at a party that I had gone to with some friends from another town. I'd always loved rock music, but my parents were religious freaks, never letting me listen to the music of the "devil" as they called it. Needless to say, I had to keep that part of my life hidden from them.

Ours had been a forbidden, cliché relationship starring me ... the good girl and Edward ... the bad-boy, wanna-be rockstar. This caused many rifts, right from the start.

My friends Jessica and Tyler had introduced us after the first set the band played. I made no qualms about letting him know how talented I thought he was. The other members were okay, but Edward ... well ... he had that 'it' factor. His sultry voice had me swooning with his first lyrics.

Later that night, we had a lengthy conversation about different bands and performers.

He had been impressed with my knowledge of music; both past and present. That topic led to many others.

That night I fell for him for several reasons and in many different ways.

When he invited me to his house, I didn't say no. My parents were out of town for the weekend, so there had been no hesitation when he offered to drive me back home the next day.

This continued for the next year ... I'd sneak away and meet him.

I found myself caught in the middle of two, entirely different worlds. I loved my family, and they loved me and wanted me to go to college and be the good daughter. Edward wanted me to leave with him and didn't understand why I allowed my family to dictate my life. My parents had expectations, and I didn't want to let them down. Those were intense times-my veiled love for him, his passion for me and his music.

Inhale.

Exhale.

His lips leave mine, kissing and nipping his way down my neck as he lifts up my black, lace cami. One hand grasps a breast, while the other slips inside my panties, touching sensitive flesh. His mouth moves back up, once again finding my hungry lips.

The sensations running through me are too intense.

His movements are calculated and nothing short of amazing.

His tongue strokes mine as one hand takes turns rubbing over both of my breasts and hard nipples. The other works its magic on my aching pussy - two fingers sliding in and out, twisting, in just the right way as his thumb circles over my clit. Breaking our kiss, he rests his head in the crook of my neck. His breath warm on my skin makes my impending orgasm build faster with each passing second. Finally, utter bliss consumes me, making my toes curl and my thighs quiver.

"Oh God!" I whisper as my body shakes.

Edward laughs, kissing my neck before sitting back on his haunches. Opening my eyes, lifting my head, I see a silly smirk on his face. I smile widely and giggle, letting my head fall back against the pillow, resting my arm over my eyes.

His hands firmly run up my thighs, gripping the sides of my panties, pulling them down my legs. I watch under my arm as he goes back into his previous position. He catches me off guard by rubbing his cock along my pussy. Quickly, I bring my arm to my side and gape at him.

His thighs spread my legs farther apart.

"Look at me baby," he says softly.

I open my eyes just as he slides his cock inside me. Gasping from the intensity, I wrap my arm around his neck, trying to get closer as he consumes me.

Edward's words from months ago echo in my ears. He wanted to wait until he was sure that I loved him as much as he loved me.

We've never been this close.

At first, his movements are gentle and slow. He palms my breasts, and I fist the sheets beside me. Thrust for thrust, I keep up with him, but soon I'm struggling; and then he's going too fast for me to even try. He's gripping my hips firmly and going deeper while quickening his pace. Heavier breaths, grunts and groans become too much, sending me over the edge again. A few more thrusts and he's pulling out, coming on my stomach like he loves to do.

The weight of his kisses on my forehead are heavenly, as he lies down next to me.

"Sorry," he breathes out. "Maybe next time I can go a little longer. It felt too good." He rolls over on his side, facing me.

We both smile at the same time.

"Thank you," he says quietly, tucking some hair behind my ear.

"For what?" I ask.

"For giving me the best birthday present, ever."

I smirk, inching closer to him. "You're welcome, but I think I should be giving you the credit."

He laughs, kissing me softly.

"No. I mean ... yes, the sex was fantastic, but this," he says, placing his hand over my heart, "is what I've wanted all along." He closes his eyes and sighs. "I'm going to write a song about us, that way you'll never forget me."

As if I ever could.

But our bliss was short-lived.

As a twist of fate, my sister called that evening telling me that my dad had a heart attack and passed away.

I told Edward to go without me. I promised that I'd meet up with him as soon as I could, but real life got in the way. My mom had a hard time dealing with my father's death, and she needed me. Then she guilt-tripped me into going to college, and I didn't have the heart to deny her request.

Edward and I talked over the phone when we could, but eventually, our conflicting schedules caused our demise.

He stopped answering.

I stopped calling.

*RoCk*

Stepping out of the cab in front of Club Z, a million butterflies dance in my stomach. I double check to make sure I have everything for tonight. The thought of being in the same room with Edward again has me reeling.

All afternoon, I'd thought of nothing but the past - good times, bad times, and the unknown. It had been difficult to form questions for the band as a whole. Everything I want to know has nothing to do with them, only their frontman.

Their bio sheet had only shown their names and positions. The only info I had was that they were from Seattle and had formed three years ago. With nothing else and almost no time to prepare, I turned to the internet but came up empty-handed. Since no manager was listed and the contact was Masen Cullen, I assumed that he was their leader in all aspects.

Just my luck.

Press pass in hand, I approach the side door of the club.

After establishing that I'm legit, the bouncer allows me inside, instructing me where to go. My nerves spike the closer I get to the band's room. Stopping at their door, I listen to the muffled sounds of laughter and conversation on the other side.

Like a coward, I turn, resting my back against the opposite wall, closing my eyes. For a moment, I think about making a last minute, relinquishing call to Jasper, but I can't squander this opportunity. After everything, I still want to see Edward ... talk to him ... be close to him again, in any capacity.

With a sudden jolt of confidence, I knock on their door. Seconds later, I'm face-to-face with Cam, the bassist.

"Yeah," he asks, smirking. "Can I help you?"

"I'm here for the interview." I lift my press pass. "Bella Swan."

His smirk morphs into a smile, as he slowly looks me up and down. "Come on in, Bella."

The sultry way he says my name doesn't go unnoticed, but I'm not here for him. I step inside, quickly scanning the room for Edward. To my surprise, he's nowhere in sight. There are three women talking to the other two band members, but their conversation stops when Cam speaks from behind me.

"Guys, Bella's here."

I give a nervous wave as they walk over to introduce themselves. Sherry, the redhead, is married to Boston ... the drummer. Trista, the blonde, is Cam's girlfriend. And Marla, the brunette, is the lead guitarist's girlfriend. They're all beautiful and nice; really nice, down to earth woman who adore their men. It's almost as if they are all family.

The door opens and a man announces that the band has thirty minutes until they need to be on stage. Cam hands me a water, and we sit down at the table to begin the interview. While setting up the recorder and my phone, I'm wondering why Edward isn't here. Once I'm ready to begin, in the most professional manner, I ask the inevitable.

"Aren't we missing someone? There are four of you, right?"

"Uh ... yeah," Boston says, looking at his bandmates. "Masen is running late. He wants us to do this one without him."

Disappointment strikes, but I nod, hitting record on my phone and recorder.

"All right then, let's get this started."

Before I can ask the first question, the door behind me opens and closes.

Everyone shares questionable looks with one another.

The silence is deafening.

And I know he's there.

Watching.

Waiting for me to turn around.

With a trembling hand, I lift the water bottle to my lips.

"I thought it'd be over by now."

At the sound of his voice, two things happen; my body tenses and the liquid catches in my throat, causing me to choke. The next thing I know, one of the women pounds on my back, asking if I'm okay.

I'm far from okay.

Boston, who is directly across from me, stares at me as if he's trying to decipher what just occurred.

After a few coughs, I'm finally able to speak.

"I'm okay, really." I look up to see Trista standing next to me with a look of worry on her face.

"You sure?" she asks.

I smile and nod.

"I thought someone left the room," I lie. "I wasn't expecting someone to be behind me."

And because I'm a glutton for punishment, I pivot in my seat.

There in the far corner, sits a beautifully brooding Edward Cullen. His expression is mix of surprise and hate.

My heart falters, but I can't let my feelings get in the way. I have a job to do.

Hesitantly, I turn back around.

Boston raises an eyebrow in question, and I clear my throat, determined more than ever to finish this and get the hell out of here as quickly as possible. Twenty minutes later, the trio answers all of my questions, and I'm satisfied with the way it went.

"I think I have everything I need," I tell them. "Thanks for giving me your time."

They take turns shaking my hand. All the while, I'm aware of Edward's eyes on me. His bandmates gravitate toward the back corner to where he is still seated.

"Thanks again," I say aloud, quickly gathering my items. "I'm going to find a good spot for the show."

"You're staying?" Edward growls.

I gulp. "Of course, it's part of my job."

"Since when are you a critic?" He asks, crossing his arms. "This isn't even your regular gig, right?"

Asshole.

"I've been told that I have spot on views of bands and that I can pick out flaws and strengths that most people don't even think about. So, it's simple really. If you guys suck, then this interview was a waste of time, and I'll go back to my boss and tell him that despite how cool your band members are, you just ... fell ... flat. But if you kill it, then you'll be worthy of the cover of our paper."

He raises an eyebrow and curls his upper lip.

"Are you trying to say that your article can make or break us?" He sneers. "You're delusional, baby. The fans do that, not some fucking-"

"Dude, calm down," Cam interrupts, stepping in between us, "and stop being a dick."

He turns to me and blinks his eyes. "Don't pay any attention to him. He's usually not so pissy, but he's been acting like a little bitch all day."

"Fuck you, Cam." Edward storms past us while Cam shakes his head.

"Look Bella," Cam whispers. "I know about you and Masen."

My eyes widen.

"You do?"

"Some of it." He nods. "And as far as I know, I'm the only one. You guys have history, and I know I don't know the whole story, but please don't let that have an impact on this." He waves his hand around the room. "We started out in dive bars, and now, here we are in one of the best places to get discovered. Masen knows we have a lot riding on this story. We've all read Pete's interviews. He should be writing for Rolling Stone or something ... I don't know. Point is ... three bands in the last year have been signed after reading his shit."

I nod, already knowing that.

He smiles, hugging me. "Just do your thing, okay."

"Kay."

The door opens, and we break apart.

"We're on in two, let's go," Boston shouts.

I turn, spotting Edward standing in the doorway. I attempt to pass, but he grabs my arm.

"We need to talk after the show," he says with his lips too close to my ear, his hand still tight around my arm, his tone, different from a few moments ago. His hot breath on my skin makes me shiver. Knowing I could never say no to him, I nod and walk down the hallway toward the stage.

I send a quick text to Jasper, letting him know that the interview went well and that I'll call him after the concert. The lights go out, just as I drop my phone into my bag.

*RoCk*

Virtually flawless in person, I couldn't imagine Fate's Denial any better in studio. Their energy and enthusiasm on stage is seductive and enchanting. Edward is mesmerizing.

Why they hadn't been signed before now, I'll never know.

Several times during the show, Edward glances my way as if he's making sure I'm still here. The fan girls around me squeal and comment about his sexiness. I grin at their remarks about the size of his hands, knowing the truth. I've been up-close and personal with Edward 'Masen' Cullen's cock on numerous occasions.

After the show, I head backstage to their room to wait for Edward. Several thoughts cross my mind.

Should I really be here?

Should I just leave my number for him to call me?

Should I ask one of the other girls for his number and call him later?

He'd never actually said for me to come back here and wait for him.

Thoroughly confused, I chew on my thumbnail, while checking my emails - something to pass the time.

"Hey," a voice from behind startles me, causing me to jump, nearly dropping my phone.

I turn, facing a solemn Edward.

He's covered in sweat with a towel around the back of his neck.

"Dammit, you scared me."

He lets out a small laugh before heading to the fridge and pulling out two waters. After handing one to me, he asks me to wait while he showers. I sit on a sofa exchanging texts with Jasper and Alice while I wait for him.

A text from Jenks also buzzes through. He's pleased that I was able to get the interview, but wants me to get some words from Masen, too.

Shit!

Edward returns, grabbing his backpack and guitar case. "Ready?"

"For what?"

"To get out of here."

"I thought we were going to talk?"

He flashes me an inquisitive look.

"We are," he says with finality, "just not here.'

I shrug my shoulders, standing up.

"Okay. Where then?"

"Your place ... my place ... I don't care ..." he mumbles as we walk out of the room toward the side door.

The thought of being alone with him has me on edge, yet I know that our talk probably isn't going to be the kind that needs to be shared with the world.

"Did you drive here?" He asks.

I shake my head. "Took a cab."

He hands the valet a ticket before pulling out and lighting up a cigarette. While we wait, he takes a few pictures with some fans. His laughter and flirting, along with the female hugs and kisses, pisses me off for some reason. Theoretically, I'm not a violent person, but I envision slapping their faces and breaking their fingers. I know it's part of his job, and that's what I tell myself every time they fondle him. I smile when he looks over at me.

Finally, an older, black Camaro rolls up.

"Ready?" He asks.

I nod, following him. He opens the passenger door for me, and I slip inside, reveling in the feel of the soft leather. He had one just like this in high school, only it was silver.

"Nice car."

"Thanks."

"My boss wants me to interview you, too," I say, looking over at him. "Will you answer a few questions?"

"Eventually, yeah."

As he drives, he taps a beat on the top of the steering wheel. All I can think about are his fingers. I try to stay calm but squirm in my seat thinking about the magic they could perform on my body.

A few minutes later, he pulls into the driveway of a townhouse, turning off the engine.

"Where are we?"

"My place," he states, "unless you'd rather go to yours."

"We're already here, so it's fine."

An utter lie.

A gut feeling tells me this will not go smoothly.

He nods and opens his door, stepping out. I take that as my cue and follow suit. I blow out a quiet but deep breath as I follow him. I hate not knowing what will happen once we we're inside.

*RoCk*

I set my bag down on the coffee table littered with rock magazines and take a seat on Edward's sofa. I begin pulling out my recording equipment, hoping to get that over with before we get into any personal discussions.

Edward sits down a few inches away with two beers in hand. He holds one out, offering it to me.

"Thanks," I say, taking the bottle, setting it on the table.

"What are you doing?" He asks before taking a long pull from his beer.

"I told you, my boss wants me to ask you a few questions for the article."

He's silent while I organize everything, and I pray that he'll cooperate.

"Take off your shirt," he demands.

My heart skips a beat at his command.

"Excuse me?" My eyes widen, whipping my head to the side to face him, unsure if I heard him correctly.

He inches closer, lowering his voice.

"I said, take off your shirt ... or no interview."

He's not playing fair, and he knows it.

Of their own volition, my thighs clench.

"Edward, you don't understand how important this. I need this."

"I know you do, and so do I."

Jesus, what exactly does he mean by that?

My breath hitches as his hand snakes around my waist, pulling me closer.

I remind myself that everything is riding on this interview - everyone is counting on me.

But dammit, I have my pride, too.

"I'm not willing to whore myself out for this interview ... not even for you." I twist out of his grasp, jumping up, tossing my items back in my bag.

"Yeah ... well, it's give and take, baby," he says sternly, standing up. "You want me ... you have to pay the price."

"You're an asshole." I mumble brokenly, while tears sting my eyes.

Once everything is in my purse, I rush toward the front door.

"You owe me, Bella."

His words stop me in my tracks.

"You fucking ended us after you promised," he sneers. "I was working three shitty jobs just to survive and pay for demos. Did you know that? No you don't ... because you were off being the dutiful daughter and fucking frat boys."

"Fuck you," I shout. "You don't know anything."

"Yeah, I do." He nods, walking toward me. "I went to your school and saw you with another guy."

"When?" I ask, crossing my arms as he closes in on me.

"You were wearing a black sundress with white flowers." He stops inches from me. "He whispered in your ear, and you laughed." He raises his hands, bracing them against the door on either side of my face, bending his head close to my ear. "He kissed you ... and you fucking liked it."

I close my eyes, remembering that day.

That had been during sophomore year and the first time that Tyler had kissed me. After that, I used him to try and forget Edward, but it never worked. Edward was always a constant thought in back of my mind. Tyler and I lasted three weeks before the guilt overwhelmed me and I broke up with him.

After that, I never flirted with commitment again.

"Deny it," he darkly commands.

And I can't, because he's right.

I had liked the attention that Tyler gave me. He filled a void for a short period of time.

"I'm sorry, Edward," I whisper. "If you would've answered my calls, then maybe ... I don't know."

He steps back, staring at me with hard, cold eyes.

My body shakes under his scrutiny.

Dropping his head-his voice now eerily calm, he says, "Write whatever you want for my part of the interview," as he turns around pulling his phone out of his pocket and brings it up to his ear. "I need a cab, 220 Rockford Court. Now."

My tears fall harder, and I struggle to breathe properly.

He's discarding me.

Dismissing me.

This is the end.

I'll never see him again.

"Edward, please," I beg, slowly moving towards him, but he raises his arm and throws his phone against the wall.

"Get the fuck out, Bella," he mumbles over his shoulder, walking out of the room.

*RoCk*

My finger shakes, hovering over the enter key, hoping that what I've written satisfies

Jenks.

Maybe one last look.

As Masen said a few years ago, he's got his "own way of talking". It comes up a lot in his songs - often when he's singing about hopelessness, lost love or his longing to escape. Masen is more a realist than a romantic; his best songs are about fearing the worst, hoping for the best, and getting lucky sometimes. His songs are also about three or four minutes long and loaded with licks and melodies befitting of a misfit reared on Elvis, the Beatles, the Stones, Dylan, and the Byrds. All of those influences coalesce on their demo Dark Soul.

"Cloak and Dagger": "I'm worn and wounded but still the same," Masen Cullen assures us, even as Fate's Denial morphs into something new. The mysterious house band for at least a dozen clubs in the past may now have reached the big time ... Like any noir hero, Masen has a tortured past that's threatening his present: "Come like secret dances, show me the madness of your mind."

"Alibis": Fate's Denial show off a soulful, bluesy touch as Masen confronts a secret relationship, contemplating love and denial, and what it all means. It's like Dylan's Love and Theft track "Bye & Bye" only way simpler: "How am I going to tell her that I love her when words don't mean a thing?" he asks. Good question.

Singing over punchy backings, Masen takes stock of his life, thumbs his nose at cops and parents, and decides he's happy chasing his foolish rock 'n' roll dreams. He's done some things he's maybe not proud of (see: "Wasted") but comes out with his soul intact. At the very least, he's not one of those unfeeling, self-oriented, materialistic "Posers" he sniffs at in the final track. He's the real deal, and his bandmates are, too. These people are a family, who've matured over the last three years and have a developed fan-base that has grown with them since their days of playing college campuses and venues such as The Wreck and Blasters.

I look over at the photo of Fate's Denial and whisper a soft goodbye to Edward, knowing that after what happened at our last meeting, I'll only ever see him like this ... in a picture.

I pray that my words will be the launching factor behind their stardom. And maybe ... if that happens, it will earn Edward's forgiveness.

*RoCk*

"Maybe this will turn your piss-poor mood around," Cam says, slapping the first edition of "Sounds" in my lap.

Seeing our band on the front cover is surreal.

"It's a damn good article that she wrote, Masen," he states as he walks away, leaving me alone with the paper. I stare at the picture a photographer took that night and then open to the page that contains Bella's article and begin to read.

I'll be damned ... she did it. She wrote something positive ... brilliant, even after what I did, what I said, what I implied.

After reading the unforgettable words, written by an unforgettable girl, a small smile takes over my face.

I sit, staring out the window contemplating how I could have been so wrong about Bella's motives that night. I want to make it right, send a peace offering— something. A way to tell her how truly sorry I am for everything and that I've loved her for years.

I pick up my new phone, slowly pressing the numbers from long ago; the ones permanently burned in my memory. I type out what I hope will be sufficient for now, hoping this text reaches her.