A/N:
I'm still in shock that Pudding Cup won first place public vote. Believe it or not, but I'm still on cloud nine over the win. THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE THAT VOTED AND MADE IT HAPPEN FOR ME. (all caps, I know...annoying, but I'm seriously that happy!)
Here is the long awaited chapter. Sorry it's taken so long to get this out, but I've had some other projects going on. No update schedule promised at this time, but I will work on this as often as I can. Please keep me on your alerts if you'd like to be notified of updates.
Thank you to my pre-reader luvtwilight4eva. I appreciated her five ba-zillion comments. I heart her so much! XO
And last but not least to Sunflower Fran for beta-ing this little fic. You are a sweetheart, and I appreciate you taking your time to do this for me. XO
Thank you to Cecilia Melton for being the biggest fan of this fic. I think she might just duke it out with anyone that says differently. haha
Disclaimer: SMeyer owns Twilight. I do not.
Pudding Cup
Chapter 2
My phone alarm alerts me to the fact it is time to wake up. My body has been in a semi-conscious state all night, never truly reaching the deep abyss of slumber. I can still feel the weight of Edward and the smell of his skin on mine. When I close my lids, I can see the evergreen color of his eyes boring into my flesh, and it all feels so surreal.
Exhausted and barely able to turn off the annoying alert tone on my phone, my tired lids open, the slits of my eyes exposing my bloodshot, scratchy eyeballs to the daylight. My eyes quickly fall to the window, remembering the boy who had snuck out of it, saving me from imminent grounding, and wondering if he would be at my locker as promised.
A shiver runs through me, spreading towards the dull ache between my legs. That is a reminder of Edward, and it ultimately rouses my tired body out of bed. My cheeks heat at the delicious memory, my palms cupping my face in an attempt to cool them. I became wet again, my panties keeping the evidence hidden at the mere thought of the boy that took me to the highest high, reaching a pinnacle I'd never been before.
I was both nervous and excited to get to school. I needed to shower and eat breakfast, hoping the guilty look I am surely wearing will be gone by the time I make it to the kitchen table. I'm guilty of lying, something I never do, and my face is my tell all.
A text from Ange jostles me from my thoughts of last night.
How'd last night go? need the deets. NOW!
My only response:
need 2 get ready. Fill u in lat8r.
The ping of another text comes, but I toss my phone on my bed and start my morning routine. There was no way I could tell Ange everything in a text, and I was sure once she heard certain things, I'd never get her off the phone. So I did what I had to do. I ignored her.
To say that breakfast is tense—at least from my point of view—is an understatement. My fingers are curled around my spoon in a death-grip, my knuckles white from the tight squeeze to keep my hands from nervously shaking. I stare into my oatmeal, like the nondescript color of mush is the most enthralling thing I've ever seen. Eating it quickly, barely taking a breath, I was ready to go.
I couldn't shake the feeling that my dad … the cop knew something out of the ordinary had happened last night. The breaking and entering being at the top of my list. Surely he had heard the door being jimmied open, and two unannounced intruders nonchalantly making their way into his home. Never mind one of the said intruders was his straight-laced, straight A daughter. It was still breaking and entering—especially whenI was supposedly tucked into the safe confines of my bedroom. I began to wonder just how safe my mom and I truly were, even living with the Chief of Police.
I shook my head at the thought of being caught sneaking out with one of the town's bad boys. Someone my dad has most likely had a run-in with, or maybe even more than one. I almost didn't care. I didn't care because, one: I'm in lust with Edward, and two: I liked the variety that boy showed me last night. I had never felt more alive than I did when he hovered over me in his bed, doing the things that I had only Googled.
It was surreal.
I wanted more.
The other activities he exposed me to were all wonderfully heart palpitating, but nothing compared to being in Edward's room, surrounded by his heat, and under the gorgeous stare of his green eyes. He made me feel something I had never felt before.
Beautiful
Desired
"You ready, Bells?" Dad asks as I'm walking toward the sink to rinse my bowl.
"Yeah, sure." I opened the dishwasher putting my dish on the rack. "Let me brush my teeth first."
"Hurry, you don't want to be late," he added. It's something he says every day. It's a broken record. We have never been late to date in the thirteen years I have been going to school. But I hurry anyway.
I race up the stairs to my bathroom, squeezing toothpaste on my toothbrush and brushing quickly. I want to have minty fresh breath when I meet Edward at my locker. I hope he plants a juicy kiss on my lips, taking me back to his delicious kissing from the night before. When I finish, I slide the two items in my purse and meet my dad in the cruiser.
.
.
.
Pulling into the lot at school seemed different from how it had been onprevious days.
Years even.
I see a few kids from the party I attended last night with Edward.
My first high school party.
I duck my head slightly hoping they don't see me, but their eyes linger on me longer than they ever have, on any given day.
Which means, they actually look at me.
I thank my dad as I hop out of the cruiser as if there is a fire under my ass, not bothering to put my backpack over my shoulder. I have always been embarrassed at being driven to school in a cop car.
It feels weird.
Wrong.
I pull my hoodie up over my head, shielding my hair from the drizzle that decides to grace Forks once again. As usual. I walk with determined strides to the door, where I know Ange will be waiting. And Edward. I am most anxious to see him. The text he sent me as he left my house last night has been playing on a constant loop in my head, in my dreams, and all morning long as I took my shower, and completed my morning ritual.
"For the record, my favorite flavor of pudding is you XOX. Meet me at your locker tomorrow."
I sigh dreamily as I open the door to the school, and Ange looks at me with an information-anticipation face.
"Spill it, girlfriend. Do you know I lost sleep over you and boy-toy last night? You owe me some info of the best kind. Now!"
I shook my head at her insistence. I barely had my whole body inside the school before her interrogation started.
"I will. I can't tell you everything now. But I will later. Promise. All I can say is that it was the most remarkable night of my entire existence." I hug my arms to my body, my heart racing at the thought of seeing Edward in a few minutes. "And he's meeting me at my locker this morning," I whisper excitedly. "So can you keep some sort of composure and not squeal like a pig when we get there?" I bump her with my shoulder letting her know I need her to chill.
Ange nods her head, looking like a deer in the headlights, clearly in shock.
But not more than me.
"Close your mouth. You look like a guppy," I tease, touching my hand to her chin helping her close the gaping hole in her face.
We round the corner to the hallway of beige lockers, the ones reserved for seniors, and my heart starts beating erratically. My palms sweat, everything around me disappears except the whooshing sound in my ears. The closer I get to my locker, my legs feel like Jello, barely keeping me upright. Thank the Lord Ange grabs my arm, saving me from total embarrassment.
"You're nervous?" she says as she steadies me back on my feet, brushing my hair out of my face.
"No shit, Sherlock," I mutter.
If she only knew all the details, she'd be nervous for me. Edward had seen me naked, and we had a sexual experience. One I'd never forget for the rest of my life. I'm being dramatic, but he was the first boy I'd ever kissed, and the first boy to make it to whatever base it was that we actually slid into last night while in his bedroom oasis.
I'm unsure of exactly what this is.
Edward and me.
Is it a thing?
Is he just being nice?
Before he can see me, I brush my hair with my fingers, trying to tame the mess from the mist that had clung to it as I walked inside. Again, his text played through my mind, calming me slightly as we take the last few steps to my locker.
My very desolate locker.
Nothing.
Zilch.
Nada.
No Edward.
I look around expecting him to sidle up to me, make me weak, make the butterflies dance in my tummy. But I don't catch a glimpse of his bronze hair and toned, lanky body anywhere. My bottom lip instinctively goes under my top teeth and my brows furrow. The butterflies that I hoped would flutter are now heavy rocks in the pit of my stomach. I swallow hard as my heart starts to crack.
"Isn't he supposed to be here?" Ange asks, looking around trying to spot Edward.
"Um, I don't know," I lie, covering up for the boy that is breaking my heart because he's stood me up. The lump in my throat is so big; I can't answer her next question.
"Was he just shitting you? Leading you on?"
She's protective of me. I can tell from the way Ange pressed her lips together in a hard line and then straightens up her back.
I shrug, not knowing, not able to answer. Her guess is as good as mine.
I will not cry, I will not cry.
I blink rapidly, chastising my stupid tears.
I will not be weak.
I will hold my head up high, and I will not cry. A tiny tear escapes, but I discreetly wipe it with the sleeve of my hoodie, pretending I have an itch on my cheek.
Damn.
"I gotta get to class Bells. I'll see you at lunch. Are you okay?" Ange gives me a small smile and a strong one arm hug.
"Yeah," I squeak out one syllable, thankful I was even able to respond.
I turn to my locker, barely remembering my combination. Sad, disappointing thoughts are invading my silly head—My silly, gullible, little girl head.
I drop my backpack at my feet, hanging my head for one moment, closing my eyes, trying to focus.
3-15-14.
I raise my head determined to open my locker, but my fingers won't move. I can feel the metal knob of the lock under the pads of my thumb and index finger, but they defy me and remain stagnant. The black lock is unmoving. The beating of my blackened heart is twisted,wrenching fitfully, from being cast aside as if it were insignificant.
I've been stood up.
My arm falls listlessly to my side.
Maybe this is why I've never dated. If this is what heartbreak feels like after only one night,albeit one amazing, incredible, action packed night ... I don't want any part of it. I'll be an old maid.
Picking up my backpack, and slinging it over my shoulder, I make my way sluggishly through the hallways toward class. I'm dizzied by heavy flow of students trying to make it to class on time, along with my eyes darting in all directions … hoping to see Edward.
He's nowhere to be seen.
I imagine him standing off to the side with his friends, making fun of me, telling them about last night. I curl into myself, suddenly cold, hating the image that just kicked me in the gut.
I make it to my desk just as the late bell rings. I know all too well, what type of kids that care less about that bell. The ones I associated with last night at the party. The Cullens, the Hales, and the McCartys; the bad crowd. I take a deep breath, plopping down in my seat. Pulling my planner out, sitting it on my desktop, I decide it must have been a dare; a cruel joke that Edward had played on me.
Miss Denali's instructions pull me from trying to figure out what is up with Edward. I refocus, pushing him into a place where I can deal with him later.
.
.
.
The gurgles in my stomach are loud and embarrassing. Lunchtime used to be my favorite time of the day. That's when I'd spy Edward with his mussed-up sexy hair, wearing a threadbare concert tee, rocking his skinny jeans. He walks through the lunchroom as if he owns the place, always grabbing a bag of chips and a Coke. But now, I'm dreading going to find a lunch table by myself, so I wait patiently for Ange so we can walk in together.
Like clockwork, I see the Hales, then Emmett McCarty, and only one Cullen. The raven haired, short girl with the piercing in her cheek ... that makes it look as if she has a dimple.
See smiles at me.
I look away and focus on my sandwich, trying to make conversation with Ange.
"So, how was last hour?" It was a diversion tactic, and Ange knows it too.
"You never ask me how my classes are. You know we always ace all our classes."
She takes a bite of her fruit cocktail, side eyeing me.
"Oh." It was the only intelligent thing I could think of at the moment. "Do you want my pudding?"
"You never share your pudding either. What's going on with you? For the last two days now you have been acting weird." She lowers her voice, "is this all over Edward?"
I shrug, continuing to eat my boring sandwich. Everything seemed boring now, after Edward. Even pudding made me think of him. He had certainly knocked me for a loop. I was definitely playing the 'why me' card wishing I knew the reason behind him ditching me this morning.
"Wanna talk shit about him to me?" Ange asks, hopeful.
"Why would I want to relive something that obviously was a cruel joke?"
"There has to be an explanation, Bells. Have you seen him around?"
"Nope." Ange's question made me think about something. "But he could have sent me a text to let me know he wasn't going to be there after all." I felt the back pocket of my jeans, startled when I didn't feel it nestled against my behind.
"Forget something?"
Ange was too smart for her own good. I wanted to slap the aggravating smirk off her pretty face.
Damn it. I had forgotten my phone on my bed this morning, while I was I rushing around to get ready for school.
"Um, yeah." I cover my mouth, hiding my smile that gave away how stupid I felt. "But, I still don't know for a fact whether or not he tried calling or texting. For all I know, he's outside at the fence with his buddies, trying to avoid me."
"All we can do is see for ourselves." She points to the food in front of me. "Are you finished with your pudding?"
I smile, putting it back into my lunch bag. "I'll save it for later."
"Just so you know, you're telling me every detail from last night." She stands, taking a hold of my arm, linking hers through mine, pulling me towards the outside door. The drizzle had stopped, and the clouds were allowing the sun to peek around them. We make it to our picnic table, and I knew then I'd have to spill my guts, and I'm imagining it's going to take at least the remainder of our lunchtime to do so.
.
.
.
Forgetting that my art project was in my locker, I hurried to retrieve it. I didn't want to be late for the second day in a row to Mr. Banner's class. He had been an ass to me yesterday, and I had no desire to sit in detention. I hated The Breakfast Club, and for some reason, I pictured it less fun than that movie portrayed it to be. I ran quickly—something I didn't do often—through the halls sparsely littered with kids just lingering around.
This time my locker combo is at the forefront of my brain. I need to get in and out.
Mumbling while my fingers turn clockwise, "three, fifteen ... fourteen."
Click. I'm in.
I couldn't stop the idea of me sitting in detention on a Saturday. The thought of missing out on a day where I could sleep in, made me hurry, banging the metal door against the locker beside mine. Squatting down I pull my art piece from my folder and stand up much too quickly, making myself feel lightheaded in the process.
I grab hold of the locker door to steady myself; my eyes slowly scan upward as the spin slows.
And then I see it.
It makes me smile, makes my heart skip a beat, and restores my hope.
Loud and proud, right there, on the top shelf, was a vanilla, pudding cup.
And on the side of the most exciting thing I had seen all day was a smiley face scrawled in black Sharpie.
I tentatively reaching out to touch it; my fingers uncurling from around my art piece, letting it fall to the tiled floor. Carefully I reach for the creamy dessert. I pray it isn't a figment of my imagination.
Just as my fingertips graze the smooth, rounded plastic container, I feel the familiar warm breath on my neck, slightly smelling like weed and minty gum.
I take in as much of the aromatic air around us, wanting to consume him.
Edward has surprised me with gifts: bothhimself and the creamy, sweet dessert.
"What's up, Pudding Cup?" His lips meet with the heated skin just under my ear.
I shiver, closing my eyes, relishing in his touch.
"Hi."
I still can't see him. The only glimpse I'm awarded with is the yellow bill of his snapback, it's visible in my peripheral.
"You ignoring me?" His arms rested on either side of my locker, caging me in.
I shake my head.
Hell no, I'd never ignore this boy.
"I sent you a text this morning, and you didn't respond."
My eyes widened. Here, I was thinking it was Ange texting … begging for the dirty little details from last night.
I didn't expect for it to be Edward.
"I wanted to tell you I had some business to take care of today and wouldn't be able to meet you after all." He pressed his front to my back, pushing me closer to my locker. "I was trying to tell you about your surprise." His voice was low, raspy.
Was he upset with me? Was he mad because I didn't text him back? And how the hell did he get into my locker? Oh yeah, right, he's Edward-pick-a-lock-Cullen.
"I uh ... I forgot my phone at home."
He chuckles in my ear; the deliciousness of his laugh eases me, tugging a grin onto my lips.
"And here I thought you had already forgotten about me, Puddin'."
I shake my head impatiently.
Never in a million years could I forget about Edward Cullen. Why would I want to? He was my first almost everything.
Just then the bell rang, making me officially late. Somehow, all of a sudden I don't care that I'm most likely going to be sentenced to Saturday detention.
"Oops, I made us late."
Edward nipped at my ear, my shoulder shrugging up to quell the tickle he sent through me.
"I've never been in detention before."
"Looks as if we should make it good and just skip class altogether," Edward suggested.
"I can't. My parents will kill me."
"Chief Donut Muncher, will never find out. Promise." His hands slip easily down the locker, turning me around to face him.
His face ... beautiful, unshaven, and his bloodshot eyes—I assumed a combination of weed and lack of sleep—smiling.
He crosses his arms around my waist pulling me closer to his body, into the soft fabric of his hoodie. "I got it covered, Pudding Cup."
Edward mesmerized me and put me under his spell. I'd do anything with this boy.
Right then I made my decision.
"Lead the way."
A/N:
So Edward didn't ditch love-struck Bella. YAY!
Can anyone figure out the significance of her locker combo? I'd love to hear your guesses.
I'll give a shout out to the first person that guesses correctly.
Thank you for reading.
I appreciate all of you.
Xo, Gee
