Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, only the things I make them so. All creative credit goes to Stephanie Meyer.
A/N: Hey guys! Welcome to my little story! A little bit about the origins for ya; I started writing this story in response to a song I heard that spoke to my soul. I thought it would make the perfect proposal song, and here we are. This is an E/B story, no cheating on each other, very little angst. roughly 1000 words a chapter, about two kids in loooove. If you like it, let me know. If you don't like it, let me know... This will update weekly and it's partially written, so once it's finished, I'll up the postage. Cool? Enjoy!
Chapter 1: Everything
Edward
I pull up to the rear entrance of the bar and turn off the ignition, the soothing rumble is instantly silenced. I try to get my nerves under subjection but it's just not happening, not today. My hands are slick with the evidence of my nerves, and there's a slight tremble there too, but there's no going back. The plan's already in motion. I shake off my nerves and glance at my watch, the one that she gave me for my birthday, and I smile. This is a gamble. I know it, I do, but this feels so right. There's a chance that she might say no, but my gut says I'll get my yes. I walk around to the back of my beat up Chevy Silverado and snag my guitar case from the truck bed and then check one last time to make sure I've got everything. My lucky pick? Left front pocket. Ring? Ring?! I pat down my jean pockets frantically, and a sense of dread starts to creep down my spine. Before my panic can become full blown, I find the ring in my change pocket and breathe a sigh of relief. Ring? Check!
I take a moment to really look at the ring that I've chosen. I run my thumb over the diamond encrusted band made of white gold. The setting is a double step of round diamonds surrounding the two karat diamond in the center. It's stunning, true, but it still feels inadequate. Knowing her the way I do, she'll probably say it's too much. For her, my everything, I'd buy her the whole world.
I close and lock the door of my truck before letting myself into the bar back entrance. The silence that surrounded me only moments ago is replaced by the low clinking of glasses and the ruckus of bar life. It brings me a small measure of confidence. This place is my home away from home.
I pass by an open office door and pause to speak to Marcus, the owner, and operator of Midnight Sun, a bar that boasts the city's best open mic night. "Hey, Marcus. Thanks again for letting me do this," I say while scratching the back of my neck, "And for keeping it quiet man. I...I know that you could've used the publicity, especially this close to the end of the month…" I'm rambling.
Marcus waves a hand in the air in a shushing motion at the same time that he sits down his e-cig. He slowly releases a plume of vapor in the air large enough that his head disappears for a moment. Marcus has been trying to quit smoking for as long as I've known him. First, it was the gum, then the patch, and now his newest fix is the mighty e-cig. "Ed, you know you're like a son to me, right?" All I can do is nod. "Okay then. When you told me what you wanted to do today, there's not a chance in hell I was going to blow it by advertising that the famous "Eddie Cullen" would be in my bar for an impromptu open mic night. No matter how my cash I coulda raked in tonight. The paps would've burst down my damn door just to get a picture of you. Now get outta my office with that mushy shit, I've got a bar to run, kid." I chuckle and shake my head at the man who I've come to love. "And close the fucking door!"
"Alright Boss Man. Well...thanks again." I say with a smile in my voice. As I'm closing the door on another plume of custard scented vapor, Marcus stops me with a gruff "Good luck out there tonight Ed." I smile and nod in his direction, and then pull the door shut. I check my watch again to make sure that I time this right. If I go out too early, the crowd will most likely give me away. I lurk in the shadows just out of sight and listen to the noise increase exponentially when Emmett, the MC, and my best friend, takes the stage. It's almost time.
The only person that knows what I came here to do tonight is Marcus. Emmett believes that he's introducing some new talent. I continue listening, waiting for my cue. Then Emmett, the house comedian, says "Well apparently there's some poor schmuck back there chomping at the bit to play y'all an original composition. So give 'em a round of applause." The response to his request is thoroughly underwhelming. I laugh under my breath, because if only they knew. Emmett tries again. You can practically hear the smirk in his voice when he says "C'mon guys! I know that y'all can do much better that! This may not be our scheduled open mic night but show the man some love!" Instantly the applause is deafening. It's amazing the way he is with a crowd.
And that's my cue. I grab my guitar case and walk out onto the slightly risen stage. I pass by Emmett and I can see his double take out of my peripheral vision. I walk with purpose to the stool situated in front of a microphone and take my seat. When I am in the scope of the spotlight, a gasp runs through the small crowd followed by a boisterous whooping sound that can only belong to Emmett. I smile at him over my shoulder and prepare to perform the most important song of my life. This is the performance that I've agonized over for weeks, months. Perfecting it. I clear my throat and address the crowd, "Hey guys, my name is Edward, but y'all probably already know that."
As I speak, my eyes scan the room for her. Just when I start to worry that she's running late, that she won't make it, I see her. My Bella. My love. She's standing near the doorway directly under a wooden beam sheathed in twinkle lights. Beautiful. Some men would look at her and see a plain girl. Long brown hair, and the eyes to match. That's how I saw her, at first. But now she wears a slate gray mini skirt and her favorite salmon colored blouse with a sugar skull emblazoned on it. It's my favorite too because she can never manage to keep both shoulders covered. Her long mahogany hair is swept up in a haphazard bun, her face free of all makeup. Stunning.
When I catch her eyes, she gives me a warm smile that belies her confusion. It's a smile that she reserves purely for me. It lights up those brown orbs of hers, pouring sunshine even into the darkest of nights. I realize that I've lost myself in her again, and shake my head gently. Before I can forget my purpose, I smile and address the crowd again. "I wrote this song for a girl," there's some laughter and a few feminine 'aww's' and it makes me smile. "Bella, I hope you like it."