Chapter One: Rules Were Made to be Broken, Isn't That Right?
It was the day after Renée's birthday when the first bouquet of flowers came. My mother had picked them from the front step, gushing over how beautiful the pink lilies were. Until she saw who it was for, of course.
My mother and I had always had a close relationship. While Alice and Rose kept themselves busy with friends and parties or their own way to make it to the top, I stayed and bonded with Renée. My father stayed in LA, throwing movies either in the trash or along the conveyor belt to production. Renée was a traveler with her many directing positions, so I clung to her as a child. We'd gone to Rome, Paris, and even made it by the Ganges River when I was twelve. Mom was the perfect person for directing: In the middle of a take, she'd stop everything and completely change the script because it sounded or looked better if it was done this way. It was fascinating to watch, because her movies had been nominated five times for Academy Awards, one actually winning Best Picture.
"Bella, who's C.E.?" She asked, handing the glass vase over to me. I could feel my face blanch and was thankful for the lilies for the cover.
Edward Cullen. That's who C.E. was. We had decided that if we ever needed to contact each other—by note, phone, or otherwise—that we would switch our initials around so it wouldn't be obvious. My mom had worked with Edward before, after all.
"Um, a friend," Technically, not a lie. He was just a very, very close friend. I quickly avoided any other conversation with my mother and lugged the lilies up to my room. It happened to be the size of a small apartment in New York City, but it definitely looked nothing like that of a "normal" celebrity child. My excuse was simple: Mom and Dad weren't A-List actors or musicians (though, Mom did try her hand at that, but we'll just say it didn't work out very well), they were A-List Important People. They were still invited to parties and events like any other rich, famous, beautiful person, but it wouldn't be a surprise if they didn't show. Because they had more important things to worry about.
Alice and Rosalie didn't buy into that excuse, reveling in the money that Mom and Dad raked in. Their rooms were ones that you would see on MTV's Cribs. Mine was average, stuck somewhere between a little girl's room and a woman's room. I had family pictures in frames on the desk, where my laptop sat, still sleeping because I had lost my muse three days ago, and, of course, my Nikon sat on the top shelf of my bed's headboard, just in case I wanted to go to the park and take black and white photos of the kids or couples. Who could actually be out in the open together, because no one was looking for them at all hours of the day.
My room was messy, organized clutter as Charlie—my father—so rightfully put it. I would not allow the housekeeper in my room. Because it was mine and if someone touched my stuff, I could probably never be able to find it again.
I tucked the vase carefully on my hip, shoving crumpled papers of started-but-would-never-be-finished stories, empty plastic water and soda bottles, and God knows what else from my desk to make room for the lovely flowers. I stuck my nose in one of them, carefully avoiding the orange pollen buds inside the pink and white petals. It smelled sweet and dewy.
I pulled out my cell phone and snapped a picture of the bouquet, sending it to C.E. on my contacts list. I tagged on a note:
Thank you for the flowers. You can't keep doing this, though.
I love you, and I only care. XOXO, S.B.
Closing my phone, I turned and fell onto my bed, landing face-first in the soft pillows. I sighed, lifting my head and looking at the flowers. My phone chimed.
I know. But I haven't seen you in three days. I need to see you.
And I don't care anymore. Why can't we be seen in public? C.E.
I groaned, rolling over and putting my phone on my chest. This had gone on long enough. Edward Cullen was smart enough to know that simple law. I wasn't legal yet. He was five years older than me. I briefly wondered if we were normal people, if we didn't get stalked by photographers and paparazzi, if this could work out. Charlie would have a fit, and Renée would swoon over my boyfriend.
I flipped open my phone. We could be seen in public, just not as a couple. I could keep my hands off of him for an hour or two, right? I'd just survived three days.
Meet me at the pool at the park in twenty. Bring sunscreen.
Love you, S.B.
It cost two-fifty to get into the public swimming pool at the park that stretched across four city blocks, directly across from the skate park. I had gotten their late and had to lay my towel on the hard ground, far enough away so I wouldn't be splashed by the playing children. The pool was more an area for parents to bring their kids so they could burn off some steam; two water slides extended twenty feet into the sky and twisted and turned down into a smaller, squared-off section of the pool, a jungle gym with too many pumps shooting water everywhere to count was in the shallow end, and then there was the five-foot area. Small children bobbed in the water, stayed afloat thanks to the bright yellow life vests, their little mouths wide with a grin. There was a line going up to the slides, and I reminded myself to try the yellow one—it looked less scary than the green one, which was a tube, not an open slide. Isabella Swan: Giant little kid.
I laid on my stomach, planning to soak up as much sun as I could before Edward showed up. Slipping my iPod earbuds in, I shuffled the music and put my head on my rolled-up tee shirt, sighing in content.
Fingertips trailed up my bare spine, cold and wet. I squeaked, scrambling to roll over. Edward stood over me, blocking the sun, a marvelous crooked smile on his lips. I tugged out my earbuds, scowling up at him. "Good afternoon," he chuckled before rolling out his towel next to mind and sitting down.
I tried my hardest not to look at his body, training my eyes elsewhere. But then I saw other women—and a few guys—staring at my Edward. I wasn't sure if they knew who we were—or at least who he was—but I wasn't about to let him just be ogled at. It was silly, really, because to everyone in the world, we were both single.
He smirked at me, drawing my eyes away from his body and to his face. I flushed pink, and tried to hide my skin behind a curtain of brown hair. "So . . . hi," I said, pursing my lips.
"Hi there," He replied, holding back laughter. I ran a hand through my hair, wishing I could be running my hands through his perfect, auburn, messy hair, that no matter what he did to it, it simply fell back into place. It aggravated him at times, but I simply adored it.
Our heads turned at the same time behind us when we heard the familiar sound of a camera taking a picture. A pap stood there, snapping three more pictures as we stared at him. Great. We were going to be on TV tomorrow.
I rolled my eyes, sighing. They couldn't even leave us alone for a few minutes out of our house.
"So," Edward started after there was a long silence between us (and a lot of squinting due to the harsh sun). "You wanted to see me?"
God, I loved his voice. The way his perfect lips moved around his words. It made it sound velvety, yet rough and completely masculine.
"Bella?" He said, a beautiful smirk on said perfect lips. He touched my arm, pulling me from my revere.
I blinked, stunned. "Uh—what?"
He let out a little laugh, his bright green eyes dancing. I loved his eyes too. They pulled me in, probably when he didn't even mean to, and got me lost in their depths. It was most likely why people wanted him to act in their movies so much: He simple compelled you to watch him.
"Bella!" He shook my shoulder harder this time, a concerned look in those green eyes. "Are you okay?"
I rubbed my forehead, looking away from all of him. "Yeah, uh, sorry,"
Okay, that was ridiculous. But I couldn't help it: I simply loved every inch of this man. "Anyway," he said, urging me to explain my sudden meeting.
"I wanted to see you," I replied instantly, without having to think. He stared at me for a moment, and when I didn't speak again, he waved his hand, asking me to elaborate. "That's all," I sheepishly admitted, tucking my face into my shoulder.
He leaned forward and inch, something that would be insignificant to the photographers who were still outside of the bars of the pool, but was not lost on me. A smile spread over Edward's face, making my breathing hitch. "Good," he paused, "because I was about to break all of our rules,"
My eyes widened. We didn't have many rules, but what we did have had to be followed, or everything would be over. He and I both didn't want to lose each other, but I was pretty sure Edward would jump out on a limb, even if it meant destroying his career. I didn't want to ruin anything he had worked so hard for. He didn't take his parents' fame for granted, like my sisters sometimes did.
Esme, his mother, had been an interior designer in Chicago when she met Edward's father, Carlisle, a "concierge doctor" who made house calls to celebrities when needed. But since he was such an amazing doctor and wrote three books on his profession, he'd made it slowly up the ladder until both he and his wife had become A-Listers. And then Edward was born, the "cutest child" of his generation, and they backed out of the spotlight to focus on family.
Edward had explained that he went into acting because he enjoyed seeing himself on screen when he was younger, but, like any little boy, he'd had his childhood dream career. "I wanted to be a doctor like my father," he had said, "but then I realized that I was shy when speaking to actual people. And the camera became my best friend from there,"
I sighed, running a hand through my hair again. The situation we had put each other in was horrible, because someone, at any moment could get hurt. Edward had told his mother about us being together. I had never met Esme, but Edward said she was elated that they were together. She loved my photography, even if it was only one picture in an underground zine that absolutely no one knew about. Except for Esme, obviously.
"Actually," Edward continued, making me look up at him, "I did break our rules," He touched my shoe before jumping up and throwing himself into the five-foot end of the pool. The lifeguard yelled at him for running and practically diving in.
I laughed, reaching for me shoe. He'd left a note that had an address written on it in his elegant hand, with a key taped to it. I bit my lip, wishing I was disappointed with him breaking the rules. We had to plan everything we did. This was definitely not planned. Despite that, my stomach twisted with the thought of being alone in a place that was ours.
I tucked the key back into my shoe and scurried after him. This was going to be so much fun.
A/N: Oh yes it is. I know, I rambled a lot in this chapter. And I think I'm going to change the rating. You'll see why very soon. I can break my own rules, too, huh?
I'm going to try and upload a chapter of this every Saturday, but I will make no promises on updating. I'll try my hardest to get these up in a timely manner. I love this story so much, I can't see it to go unfinished.
Is it pathetic for me to grovel for reviews? Well, yeah, it is. But I'm doing it anyway. PLEASE REVIEW! :)
-R.I.
