Aw, you guys are great. Thanks so much for the wonderful turn-out! I hope you stick around!
No beta, like I've mentioned. This is just for fun, so all mistakes are mine. Be nice.
SM owns everything, except this plot.
One Month Before...
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"Again! Again, again!"
"Jesus, Christ. She's trying to kill me," he mutters.
I'm panting, hands on knees as I coast around the rink, trying to get my breathing under control. I can see him negotiating that last turn over in his mind, the scrunch of his eyebrows drawn together like he's trying to broker world peace. I'm beat. Considering we've been at this for about two hours without a break, I'm surprised I'm still standing, let alone skating. I wince as I feel the tender bump on my left hip that will most definitely be black and blue tomorrow. Esme decided to add just a teensy element of difficulty to our routine, and I'm paying the price since I'm the one that gets thrown around. Seeing Edward frustrated with himself, I circle around him until I'm within touching distance, speaking low so Esme can't hear us.
"Relax, okay? You're over-thinking it. You have to attack that turn a little more organically, if not you'll look stiff and I won't reach my mark." I squeeze his forearms gently, trying to make him loosen up a bit. He's not looking at me, instead focussing on the etchings from our blades interlaced on the ground, forming highways and ribbons of cut ice. I duck my head and force his eyes to meet mine, smiling encouragingly.
"Hey, you okay?" I ask.
"I don't over-thing things," he mumbles reluctantly.
"Aw, that's cute. You do. You always have. Remember what happened at Nationals last year?"
"That was totally not me over-thinking. That was just a simple miscalculation. I was there too early, you were there too late." He turns up his straight Cullen nose, daring me to argue.
"Okay. Fine. If you say so. God, you're moody today. Time of the month again?"
Edward snorts, grabbing my waist back into starting position. He smiles reluctantly, but I know I've once again managed to take his mind off our failings. Turning me to face away from him, my back to his front, his arm snakes around me, his warm hand resting on my good hip.
"No, not this week. But wait," he stops to pinch the fat at my waist. "I thought you felt a little heavier. Water weight maybe? You know you really need to lay off the salty nuts." I gasp as he tickles my sides. The snarky fucker. My squeels echo through the empty rink as I try to unsuccessfully poke him in the side and in one moment, it's like we're ten again.
"Kids! I haven't got all day. Let's get this in the bag, I'm hungry."
I hear and feel Edward's grumble and hold in a giggle. Usually, watching mother and son go at it is kind of scary, but since we're so close to Sochi and are pretty much just polishing up the rough transitions in our free skate, I can finally find the humor... kind of. If we don't get this turn combo down, it might get very interesting between them.
"Settle down, Edward. This is what you get for having your mom as our coach," I remind him as Esme claps her hands and counts out the intro bars. He doesn't have time to reply as we let the music guide our movements. By now, we're a well-oiled machine and we're floating through even the more complicated side-by-side turns and lifts.
"Excellent... and...one...two...and...turn! Yes! Good. Okay, stop. I'm hungry and your father's waiting for us." Esme skates over to us, ruffling Edward's longish copper waves like he's still her little boy, sweaty from after school hockey practice. Edward's never bothered by it— just gives the requisite eye roll, but I can see the twitch of a smirk. Yes. He's finally pleased with our progress.
"I'd love to join you guys, but Peter should be here any minute to pick me up," I tell mother and son, putting away my skates and throwing my hoodie over my head. When my head pokes out, I see Edward's eyes flash to mine. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was annoyed.
If I didn't know better...
But I do know him and he is annoyed. I know everything about this guy, and that was annoyance. I give him a what the fuck is wrong with you look he knows damn well too. He just shrugs and rakes his fingers through his hair, pushing away to do another cool down around the rink.
"Well, that's alright dear, but you know Peter is always welcome to join us," Esme says, staring warily at her son, smoothing over the obvious awkwardness suddenly in the air.
"Oh, I know, Esme. But he's got this work thing and I have to race home and make myself presentable," I say apologetically. My eyes slide over to the dark figure of Edward's tall frame still making rounds. I can see him sulking from here. What the hell is up with him? I know he doesn't really get a long with Peter, they're miles apart in... well, just about everything, but really? We've been dating for almost a year, you'd think he'd at least try to be civil.
Just as I'm starting to work myself up in a huff, the man in question saunters in.
"Where's my pretty girl?" Peter's voice is loud in the empty arena. I turn and smile just as I hear the sound of ice being cut into a sudden stop. I can feel Edward's stare on the back of my head, and if I don't get out of here soon, there's no telling what barbs these two will exchange. Stupid old pissing contest.
Peter grabs me by the waist and kisses me solidly on the lips. He has a presence about him, and although not as tall and imposing as Edward, Peter's black hair and bright blue eyes are enough to stop anyone in their tracks. He's already in an oxford and black dress pants and i can see he's in a rush to get away.
"Mrs. C., looking stunning as ever," he greets her, bowing slightly. He lifts his head to peer at Edward. "Hey, Edward."
No response. I swear, he's such a baby sometimes.
"Hello, Peter. Don't you look dashing. Off to another work function?" Esme asks politely, but like her son, I sense a tinge of something under it.
"You know it, Mrs. C. We're a very popular couple among my colleagues. It's just another side to my work. Luckily, I get to show this beautiful girl off, so I can't complain," he says, kissing my forehead.
"Ready to go, baby?" Peter asks, visibly anxious to leave.
"Yeah, let me just get my stuff, I'll meet you by the car."
"You got it," he says, making a clicking noise with his mouth and tongue, and pointing his fingers like guns.
I turn to kiss Esme goodbye and as she heads out, I see Edward glowering at Peter's retreating form. I've had enough. "Hey!" I shout at him, waving him over. He hesitates a moment before skating in lazy strides towards me. When he's finally in front of me I smile.
"What the hell is your problem?" I say through my tense grin.
Edward pulls an innocent face that he must know doesn't work with me, and shrugs.
"What do you mean?"
I take a deep, cleansing breath.
"I mean... must you always act like Peter took your favorite toy?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Bella."
"Yes, you do."
"No... I don't," he mimics me. "I just don't understand why he seems to want to pull you away from your friends and your family all the friggin' time. I mean, would it kill him to include himself in our family time?"
I snort. "What, so all of you can patronize him and snicker behind his back? You know damn well between Em, Aly and you, it's one inside joke after the other." Edward's about to protest before I cut him off. "Don't even pretend to say that you guys don't do that. Even Dad jumps in on occasion, taking his cues from the Cullen Crew.
"Hey, if Mr. Pretty Boy Lawyer can't take a little jibe here and there, that's not my problem." Edward lowers his chin to hide a smirk and I want to be mad at him, but I can't bring myself to feel it. Edward's my best friend, his family my second one. I have to suppress my grin so as not to encourage him, so I shake my head disapprovingly.
"Edward. I really don't want this to be a thing. You and your family mean a lot to me. But Peter is in my life, whether you all like it or not. I chose him.
"You sure about that? Edward raises his head and asks suddenly.
It takes me a moment.
"What? What's the supposed to mean?"
"I mean, I'm pretty certain he picked you and you just went along for the ride, like you always do..."
"What are you—"
"You're too agreeable. Always have been. Always trying to make everyone else happy, do what you think is expected. I wish you'd make choices for yourself, that's all." He takes a deep breath, nodding once.
"Are you done?"
"I could keep going," he says, his stare a little too much for me right now.
"Don't bother. I think you've said enough.
Just then, the double doors to the rink open, Peter poking his head in, already looking a little tense. "Baby, what are you doing? We have to go. I don't want to be late. It's a big night for me." And just like that he's gone.
I look at the closed doors and wonder how I got here.
"Bella—"
"I said, spare me," walking towards the door and not wanting to look back.
Unfortunately, I can't resist and look over my shoulder. Edward's forehead is pressed up against the plexiglass, his green eyes saying a thousand things I can't even begin to translate.
I walk out without another word.
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