Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.
September
…
A few weeks after Angela's party, I'm on date number five with Peter, the man she introduced me to.
Happy hour turns to dinner which then turns into after-dinner drinks and fucking in his bed.
He's nice and his friends are nice and the sex is nice and everything is just so nice.
But more often than not, nice isn't enough.
My phone rings in the middle of the night. I silence it before Peter wakes up. I sneak out of his room as I reject the call.
The kitchen is dark, but I stand here, staring at the screen until it lights up again with a second call.
He breathes into the phone, but doesn't say a word.
"Hello?" I whisper.
"You sent me to voicemail?" Edward asks, irritated.
"It's after two. I was sleeping."
"Where are you?"
"I just said I was sleeping," I say, letting him assume I'm at home. We don't need to have this unnecessary conversation.
"I saw you earlier tonight," he says, voice lower than before. "Eating dinner with someone."
"Oh." I clutch the phone closer to my ear, as if that brings me closer to him. I don't know how he saw me without me seeing him. "You should've said hi."
He laughs. It's deep and just the way I remember. "I'm saying hi now."
"Where have you been?" I question. I shouldn't want to know, but I can't help myself. "What have you been doing?"
"Thinking about you."
I hate him.
I hate this game.
"Edward, stop."
"Bella. No." His tone is teasing and lazy. I've heard it enough times to know he's drunk.
I swallow hard, then press my fingers to my temple. I'm standing in another man's kitchen, wearing another man's shirt, and I'm talking to my ex-boyfriend. I should feel terrible, but I don't.
"Come over," he commands. "I'll pay for your cab."
I know he would. He's done this before; called me over in the middle of the night. And I go over, because I can't not. Then we hang out for a few months, get back together, I fall hard, then we break up. He won't let himself love me. Not really. Not the way I love him. And as much as I want to see him, as much as I want him to want me again, I can't put myself through this anymore.
"Edward, I can't, okay?"
"Yes, you can," he argues.
"Why now? We haven't seen each other in months."
I want the truth, but I know he won't give it to me. I want to hear him admit he's always wanted what he can't have.
But maybe the truth is that he can have me.
Maybe I've been the one lying.
Before he says another word, the faint sound of the toilet flushing echoes through the apartment. My body tenses.
I tell Edward I have to go and hang up before he has a chance to convince me otherwise.