PTB's Writing Challenge 2013

Challenge Number/Title: #7 Valentine Loos

Date posted: 03/03/2013

Fandom: Twilight

Rating: M

Genre: AH

Content Descriptors: references to pseudo-incest

Character Pairing: Edward/Bella

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer and Summit own the rights to the Twilight franchise and its affiliates. These words, however, are the product of my own imagination. No copyright infringement intended, but also, please don't copy as your own.

"Shit, fuck, damn!" I softly curse as I jump out of bed.

Once again I have managed to switch off my alarm in my sleep, and have startled awake about ten minutes before I absolutely have to be in my car to school, otherwise I'll be late. This is happening much too often lately. It wouldn't be so bad if it meant I was getting a lot of sleep. However, I spend most of the night tossing and turning, only to fall asleep early in the morning.

Resigning myself to yet another bad hair day and a pop tart for breakfast, I grab a towel from the hallway closet and rush into the bathroom. I jump when the cold water hits my skin, but I don't have time to wait for it to warm up. Luckily, my father had a state-of-the-art water heater installed when we moved into this house, and it doesn't take long until steam fills the room. I bask in it for a moment, then quickly squirt shampoo into my palm to rub in my hair.

Surrounded by the scent of my strawberry shampoo, I allow myself a few moments to indulge in my guilty pleasure; I pick up the other bottle of shampoo that's in the shower, open its cap, and inhale deeply. I wish I had the nerve to use this shampoo instead of my own, and be surrounded by its scent all day, but that would be too obvious and draw unwanted attention. Especially from my step-brother Edward. He enjoys teasing me enough as it is, and I don't need to stroke his ego any more than he already does himself.

After replacing the bottle to its spot on the built-in shelf, I move to rinse when I hear the bathroom door slam and the lock turn. I silently berate myself for having forgotten to lock the door, hoping that it's my step-mother who just walked in, or even my father. Carefully peeking around the shower curtain confirms my suspicion; tapping his foot to the beat of whatever song is playing on his iPod, my stepbrother is busy perfecting his sex hair.

I'm not sure if he has had sex yet, but school gossip suggests he has, and he makes sure he at least looks like he's been freshly fucked. His clothes are always just a little bit too rumpled, he prides himself on being able to grow scruff, his jeans hug his shapely ass in the most sinful of ways, and his hair always looks like some lucky girl has just run her hands through it in the throes of passion.

It should be illegal to go to school looking like that.

I try to stay hidden and turn off the shower, hoping he'll be finished soon and I can rinse and condition, but luck is once again not on my side. Mesmerized as I am, I don't feel the suds running down my forehead until one falls into my eye, making me cry out at the sudden sting. Edward's hands freeze in mid-air and his widened eyes find mine in the mirror before he whirls around.

"Bella? What are you doing in here?" he stupidly asks.

I groan, "Trying to have a quick shower… Ow!"

I squeeze my eyes shut, but the damage has been done.

"Are you okay?" he asks, sounding a bit closer than before.

"I will be, just leave so I can finish," I practically beg.

I don't need my sexy-as-hell step-brother to see me naked with soap in my eyes.

"Fine, don't get your panties twisted," he mutters.

I don't bother answering him, and instead wait impatiently for the door to close again. Except that it never happens. I don't even hear it open.

"I'm serious, Edward," I threaten. "Get the hell out."

"I'm trying," he grits out through clenched teeth. "But the stupid door won't open."

True enough, I hear him twist the lock and jiggle the handle. It doesn't budge.

"Are you kidding me?" I complain, more to myself, but Edward answers anyway.

"You're welcome to try yourself."

Although I have no reason not to believe him, I quickly rinse the shampoo from my hair and eyes, hearing him continue to try the door. When I reach for the towel, I remember I left in on the counter next to the sink, and a blush creeps up my face.

"Uhm, Edward?" I cautiously peek around the shower curtain again. "Could you hand me my towel?"

Instead of the smart-ass retort I am expecting, he wordlessly hands it to me while averting his eyes. Our fingers touch as I take the towel from his outstretched hand, and I swear a feel a jolt of energy run through my arm. It's similar to the static electricity of touching metal while wearing wool, but less painful, more like a slow burn. I gasp and jerk my hand back, clutching the towel, watching his fingers flex and his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. Has he felt it too?

"Thanks," I finally manage.

I roughly dry my hair, not bothering with conditioner, and wrap the towel around my body before exiting the shower. Edward is still busy trying to open the door, but spares me a furtive glance that lingers around the edges of my towel. At my raised eyebrow he steps aside and gestures to the door.

"Go ahead."

I jiggle the handle, pull the door, even push against it, but it remains stuck. Turning the lock proves pointless, too, as it turns around freely, most likely because the mechanism inside snapped.

"It's stuck."

"Like I said."

Choosing not to react to his comment, I focus on the door in front of me. There has to be a way to get out of this room. Having exhausted the option of getting out of here by ourselves, I pick the next available thing to do, and start banging my hands on it, calling out to my father and Esme.

"It's no use, they already left."

"Well, can't you call them?" I cry, panic slowly setting in.

"I left my phone in my room…"

Nearing hysterics, I resume banging on the door, calling out for help. I can't be stuck in here all day. I don't have any food, or clothes, and the room is much too small… The walls start closing in on me, bile rises in my throat, and black spots cloud my vision. Strong arms wrap around me, pulling me from the door and into a firm chest, and I struggle against them, needing space around me. It isn't until I hear Edward's voice that I am pulled from my oncoming panic attack.

"Shhh, Bella, relax," he murmurs in my ear. "You're hyperventilating. Breathe with me," he instructs, placing a hand in the middle of my chest as he deliberately breathes behind me. "In… two… three… four… Out… two… three… four… Good girl."

I sag against him, my blood still rushing through my veins, my heart pounding wildly.

Once the panic subsides, it's replaced by embarrassment. I can't believe I freaked out like that in front of him. I push against him and he releases his hold on me.

"Are you okay?" he asks for the second time in ten minutes.

"Yeah," I manage, still shaking. "I just need to… sit down for a minute."

He immediately closes the lid on the toilet and guides me over to it. When he is sure I won't fall off, he fills one of the glasses next to the sink with water from the tap and hands in to me. Its coolness feels divine on my suddenly parched lips and I can't suppress a soft groan.

"Bella?" he calls my attention after a few minutes.

I look up at him to find a concerned frown marring his features.

"What was that?"

Normally, I would brush off his questions, but something in his eyes tells me he is genuinely concerned, and I only hesitate briefly before answering him.

"I don't like being in confined spaces without a way out," I confess. "That would have been a panic attack if you hadn't calmed me down."

"Wow… I had no idea."

"Well, I don't go around broadcasting it to the world, so… Anyway, thanks."

"Do you think it'll happen again?"

"Not if you keep me distracted."

"Okay, I'll do my best," he says, looking around the room.

There isn't much in here to occupy us for any length of time, and I am once again starting to dread whatever length of time we'll spend stuck in this bathroom.

"Do you think someone will come to see where we are?" I ask in a small voice.

"I don't know," Edward sighs. "How about that friend of yours, Angela?"

Surprised, I cut my eyes to him. He actually knows my best friend's name? He is always so careful to ignore us whenever we're hanging out over here. However, she won't think anything of me cutting class today, so I shake my head.

"She'll just think I'm ditching to avoid all the mushiness of today," I say, shrugging, and it's not even a lie.

I have been thinking about feigning sickness to avoid the day, anyway.

"What? No hot date?" Edward asks, and I'm not sure if he's mocking me or not.

I don't bother answering his ridiculous question; my silence speaking volumes.

"Secret admirer?" he tries again.

"Come on, Edward, I'm either at school, in the library, or here. When would I meet someone who'd be even remotely interested? Or are you suggesting the guys are lined up for a date with the geek?" I fight to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

He laughs and shakes his head.

"Oh, you'd be surprised. Not every guy wants a cheerleader."

"Speaking of which," I change the subject. "Won't what's-her-face Miss Head Cheerleader miss your presence today?"

"Heidi? Probably not until I'm late picking her up tonight."

I scoff, "Yeah right. She's been fawning all over you for weeks."

"It's not what you think, Bella. And shouldn't you get dressed?" he effectively changes the subject, for now.

I fidget, all too aware that I'm clad in nothing more than a towel, and avert my eyes.

"Don't worry, I'll turn around," he chuckles.

"It's not that. I uhm… didn't bring anything," I mumble. "I came in wearing the towel," I clarify upon his puzzled gaze.

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

He thinks for a minute, then stands and unbuckles his pants, dropping them to the floor.

"Edward, what the hell?"

"You've got to wear something, B. Can you turn around for a sec?"

I oblige him and turn towards the shower, closing my eyes for good measure. A few moments later, a piece of fabric, soft and warm, is thrust into my hand. When I look, I'm holding Edward's Bjorn Borg boxers.

"Don't worry, they're clean. I only put them on half an hour ago," he assures me with a smile.

"But what about you?"

"I don't mind going commando for a change," he winks, and my mind is instantly transported to a much dirtier place.

I stand and shimmy into his underwear under my towel, smiling at him in thanks. He then pulls his shirt over his head and gives it for me to wear, but my eyes zero in on a mark on his left ribcage. His eyes follow my gaze, then look back to me.

"Did I…?"

"You pack quite the punch, sis," he says, winking.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," I say, reaching out to touch the bruise.

He doesn't move away from me, and almost in slow motion, my fingers make contact with his skin. The energy that nearly shocked me earlier now feels more like a tingling buzz. I can't resist and gently caress where I hurt him. He inhales sharply at my touch then stops breathing altogether, and I think I do too. I look up into his eyes and what I see startles me so much I step back. Gone is the smug arrogance I am used to finding, there is no amused smirk playing on his lips. Instead I see something I can't quite name but feels very familiar. I blink, he swallows, and the moment is gone.

Quickly donning his shirt, attempting a surreptitious sniff and detecting faint traces of his Axe body wash, I busy myself with brushing my teeth since, you know, I'm stuck in a bathroom and all. My hair is a mess, not having used conditioner, and now drying in tangles, so I just braid it.

When I turn back around, I catch Edward scratching his crotch, and I'm both intrigued and repulsed. The motion causes his dick to become outlined against the fabric of his jeans, but I shudder to think what would cause an itch down there. In turn, I am caught staring at him as he is scratching. He quirks a brow at me, causing me to scramble for an excuse. It takes me a few moments of desperately avoiding looking down again to come with something.

"Should you be going out with uhm…"

"Heidi?"

"…when you have crabs?"

"Crabs? What brought this on?" he asks, surprise coloring his voice.

"Your reputation… I know Jane had crabs a while ago, and you went out with her… You were just scratching yourself…"

"Seriously, Bella?" he exclaims. "Do you honestly believe petty high school gossip?

I shrug, "I know not everything is true, but there has to be some truth to it all?"

"Yeah, I've dated a bunch of girls. So what? I've never gone beyond second base with any of them. In fact…"

"Never mind, Edward. It's not any of my business," I interrupt him, not really wanting to delve into the more illicit activities of my 'brother'.

Hearing him call me sis earlier was bad enough of a blow to my ego as it is.

He is not having any of it, though. His nostrils flare as he approaches me, his bare chest heaving in his anger.

"No, let me set a few things straight. For one, I do not have crabs. I have not, nor will I ever have sex with Jane. She is much too slutty for my taste. Second, that itch you saw me scratch, is the result of some manscaping I stupidly let Emmett talk me into. And third, you don't know anything about my deal with Heidi!"

"Then tell me!" I raise my voice along with his. "How am I supposed to know what to believe about you, when you put on this cocky, playboy act? For someone I'm sharing a bathroom and parents with, the only information I get comes from the same rumor mill he's telling me not to believe. Can you explain that to me?"

He sighs and rakes his hands through his hair.

"That's exactly my point!" he yells. "It's all an act!"

Why would he need to act? He is pretty much what girls want, and what guys want to be: gorgeous, confident, sexy, smart…

"I don't understand…" I stammer.

"Of course you wouldn't," he says miserably. "You've got so many options. You're smart, and without even trying. Do you know how many hours I spend studying, and I still get a B at the most? It wouldn't be so bad, if I was good at sports to compensate, but I can't even do a proper tumble in gym class!"

A giggle escapes me at the mental image of Edward landing flat on his back during his attempts. He is right, his coordination is terrible. He glares at me, then breaks out in laughter too, before continuing his rant.

"So I did the only thing I'm good at. Charming people. But I can't even keep up that charade. So I struck a deal with Heidi. She's pretty, and nice enough, and she wants me to take her virginity tonight, on Valentine's Day."

"Just like that? You're going to give it up to someone you don't love, to be rid of it? What's wrong with letting it come naturally?"

"Because the only girl I really want is the one I can't have!" he yells, leaning heavily on the sink.

Part of me knows what he means, but another part wants to hear the words coming from him. I move closer to him, putting a hand on his shoulder to offer him some comfort, and the courage to carry on.

Can it be true that the day of the year I dread the most will turn out to be the best for both of us? That it would take an uncooperative lock to trap us together, forcing us to really talk?

After what feels like hours, he looks up, frustration making room for hope in his eyes.

"Bella, I've never considered you my sister," he confesses, turning around to face me. "You've always been so much more."