"Do I . . . do I wake him up?" I whispered into the phone, looking at one, Edward Cullen, naked and asleep in my bed.
He stayed, and though that was exactly what I wanted last night, it left me a little . . . screwed this morning. And not the good kind of screwed that I was last night.
"Take a picture," Alice said.
"How does that help me?"
"Well, it helps me."
I rolled my eyes and walked quietly out of my room, pulling the door closed behind me. I had zero knowledge of what the etiquette was for these kinds of things. The one night stands I'd had in the past all happened at the guys' house and I always left right after. You know, like a good one night stand does.
Which of course, even though it was brief, made me wonder if this even was a one night stand. I pushed that thought down because I was obviously not relationship material and thinking about it would just make me hope, which would lead to a let down. A let down of epic proportions. I wasn't sure if there was enough Ben and Jerry's in the world for that let down.
"I'm sure he'll wake up soon," Alice said as I poured too much Coco Pebbles in to too big of a bowl. "And if he doesn't, lay your phone by his head and I'll call it. If Call Me Maybe doesn't wake him up, he could be dead."
"That's not my ringtone."
"Liar."
Okay . . . it actually was. I had problems, clearly.
"I just . . . I didn't think he'd actually stay."
"But you wanted him to?"
It wasn't actually a question. She knew. Of course she knew. Alice knew me better than I knew myself, which was often annoying, but sometimes helpful. Like now. "So, what should I do?"
"Well, you could crawl back into bed, accidentally wake him up, and have a repeat of the best night of your life."
"Or?"
"Just wait, I guess. He'll wake up eventually and then you two could either talk or he'll do the walk of shame and that's it. Up to you, though I'm sure you're just going to wait."
Like I said, she knew me.
. . . . .
After hanging up with Alice and downing about half of the bowl of cereal I'd poured, Edward finally came out of my bedroom — his handsome ass only covered in boxers. He had bed head, but not the rat's nest bed head that I was sporting. No, his unruly hair made him look sexier.
It was completely unfair.
But also so fucking fantastic.
"Good morning, Bella." His damn handsome lips curled into a smile. The same smile he had last night, which made me wish I'd gone with Alice's first suggestion. "May I?"
He pointed to the coffee and waited for me to nod before pouring himself a mug. He came to sit beside me at my little kitchen island. He was close — so close that my tongue decided not to work again. The sunlight came through the small window at the perfect angle, accentuating the red in his hair and scruff that had formed on his jaw and neck.
Scruff was hot . . . and handsome. Because everything on him was handsome.
"Do you have to work?"
I finally found my tongue, and that was what I said. Not, "take me back to bed and fuck me," or "I wonder what sex is like on a counter." My tongue was lame, obviously.
"No, not until tomorrow, though I am on call tonight," he said, placing the mug on the counter and licking his handsome lips. "Should I . . . go?"
"No!" I could feel the heat on my cheeks. That was loud and entirely too quick. Oh, and the opposite of what I probably should've said. "I mean, no, you don't have to. I've got nothing planned."
Again, his handsome lips curled into a smile. I was reminded of what said lips did to me last night, and I was sure my cheeks were even more flushed. Which only made me more embarrassed.
"Okay, then breakfast? Or did you fill up?"
"I could eat."
I could not, but damn it, I wanted more time with him. I didn't want this to end, which was not at all what I should've been thinking, but I did. Because it was the truth. After this past year, I didn't want to let go of this feeling of being happy. Not that I was one of those extremely depressed people that needed meds and therapy, but . . . actually, I might have been. But that was a thought for another day after the happiness with the handsome man ended.
"I know a great diner a few blocks from here," he said as I stood up with my embarrassingly large bowl of half eaten cereal. "Best French toast in the world."
I nodded, smiling. "Then I guess I should get dressed."
"I kind of need pants, too," he chuckled. "At least, I'm assuming the diner has a strict 'no pants no service' policy."
That was too bad.
. . . . .
Once I'd gotten dressed and he, sadly, put his pants and shirt back on, Edward and I walked the few blocks to the diner. It was a nice autumn day in Manhattan, and though I actually kind of hated the city, I enjoyed this weather. It reminded me of Washington. Looking back, I wished I hadn't moved here to go to school because I just wound up staying. I thought I'd love it and at first I did, but . . . being from a small town, the massive hoards of people actually annoyed the hell out of me.
"I, uh . . . didn't get to tell you how much I enjoyed last night," Edward said as we sat across from each other in a small booth.
"Actually, you did. It was before I pretty much threw you into a cab."
He cocked his head, creasing his brow. "I remember it differently. I said yes, and then I threw you into the cab. I'm sure that driver didn't appreciate me groping you in his backseat."
"But I appreciated it." I smiled, lifting the menu to cover my face.
He chuckled and reached across, lowering it. "Please don't obstruct my gorgeous view of your face. I quite enjoy looking at it."
Mother fucking swoon.
Wait . . . was that still a thing? Eh, either way, the word worked perfectly to describe my feelings.
"So, I'm calling this our second date, which means I can go ahead and ask if I can see you again," he said. "I'm assuming yes because, well, you said yes to a second date, but I figure it's more gentlemanly to ask."
"But we're not even done with our second date. I believe the proper etiquette is to wait until the end and then ask for a third."
He nodded. "Okay, then I'll wait. Let's get back to our second date. This is when I find out a little more about you. For example, do you have siblings?"
I shook my head. "Nope, only child. You?"
"An older brother. He's married with two kids and lives in Virginia. He's FBI."
"Your parents made a doctor and an FBI agent?" I laughed. "They must have excellent genes."
He shrugged. "I think so. My father's also a doctor and my mother is a former police officer turned psychologist. She was one of those crazy women that decided, 'eh, let's see what getting shot at is like'. And then once she found that out — meeting my father in the process — she decided to hang up the gun, go back to school, and let others handle bringing in the bad guys while she counseled their victims."
My brow rose in awe of the woman I barely knew anything about. She sounded incredible, but she also made me think of my dad. "My, uh . . . my dad was a cop, too."
"Was? So he got out of it, too?"
I shook my head. "No. No, he didn't unfortunately."
His hand reached across the table and clasped mine. Tears formed in my eyes and I tried to force them away. God damn it, I was not going to do this here. "I'm so sorry, Bella. I didn't mean—"
"You didn't," I said, cutting him off. "He died last year. Robbery gone really bad. He was really important to me."
"And your mom?"
"Passed away when I was seven. Breast cancer."
"God, I should stop asking questions."
"No, no, you're fine. I'm fine. Um . . . so do you have nieces or nephews? Or both?"
"Two nephews. Brady and Colin. They're actually twins and just recently turned eight. If I'm lucky, I get to see them a few times a year. I had them up here over the summer for a Yankees game."
He pulled out his phone and showed me a picture of the not at all identical twins. They were . . . cute, I guess. I mean, they were little kids. As he told me about them, his handsome face lit up and it was clear that they were incredibly important to him.
I liked seeing that.
I liked knowing that he cared more about others than himself and that the twins were a big reason he went into pediatrics. I liked knowing that he'd devoted his life to helping others and that was what brought him happiness.
"So, what type of books do you write?" he asked, cutting into his stack of French toast.
"Um . . . you'll think I'm weird."
He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "That's not possible."
I sighed and pretty much decided why the hell not? I wasn't at all embarrassed about the genre I wrote for. I liked my privacy, which was why I used a pen name and didn't do much press. Of course I did the mandatory short book tour and a few signings when I released a new book, but that was about it. Even though I didn't put myself out there as much as some other authors did, I loved my books. I loved my audience too. "I write young adult romance. Basically the things teenage girls read. Well, not only teenagers, but I'm sure you understand."
His brow cocked as his handsome lip curled into a smirk. "What are they called?"
"Uh . . . Willow Falls is my most popular, but I have a few others, too."
"You were wrong last night."
"About what?"
"I've heard of your books."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, right."
"Do you understand what age my patients are? Quite a few are teenage girls, and I have one in particular who's been my patient for years that loves to read. I've spent lunch breaks, letting her go on and on about an amazing book she read. And you know what?"
"What?"
"It makes her smile. And trust me, a smile is not an easy thing to coax from a moody teenage girl who spends more time in the hospital than at home. So, since I now know you've written one of those books that's made her smile, I'm amazed by you."
Amazed.
The word most certainly did not fall on deaf ears. It ran through my head over and over again as we continued our breakfast. The handsome man was amazed by me, which made absolutely no sense but left me feeling better than words could express.
And it also inspired me.
. . . . .
Two weeks passed after the best night and morning of my life, and to my utter shock and extreme joy, Edward and I kept in touch. I met him for lunch a few days later, and we had an amazing time once again. He made me laugh and smile, and even brought me flowers.
Seriously. Flowers. They were bright and beautiful and smelled amazing.
I'd been writing almost nonstop since I'd met him, and it wasn't the tragic, awful stuff, either. It was hopeful and happy and brought back the feeling I'd missed over the past year. I still wore the lovely Juicy sweatpants, but I did move out of my bed and onto the couch.
Alice was shocked at that.
Hell, she was shocked that I had managed to write without killing someone.
I was too, by the way.
It all seemed so . . . strange. Conversation and sex — which had happened a few more times — with the handsome Edward Cullen had flipped a switch inside of me that I hadn't actually realized was turned off. Apparently the switch was in my vagina. Who knew? Even though it seemed so strange, it was also wonderful. I felt alive again. Like the veil had lifted and things were no longer covered in a haze.
Happiness was a feeling I'd missed.
But underneath all of this happiness, a part of me worried. I liked Edward more than I should've. I was beginning to let my guard down around him, which as the past had shown me, wasn't always a good thing. In fact, it was a terrible thing. I'd had my heart broken a few times by guys who were clearly not right for me, and even though the logical part of my brain knew that I could very likely get hurt again, I didn't listen to it.
I mean, let's face it, the sex was fucking fantastic. I wasn't ready to give that up.
So, I decided to go with it and see what happened.
. . . . .
"I'm kind of mad that you get this awesome sex and conversation with a great guy while I'm single," Alice said as I handed her the bowl of popcorn.
It was our 27 Dresses time again because Alice and Jasper had, just down right shockingly, broken up . . . again. It was only the third time this year. There had never been a movie Alice and I both loved as much as this one, so it was our go-to pick when she was having issues. I had no idea why I loved this movie so much, but I did. Pretty basic story line, after all. I believed it was probably just James Marsden's fine ass.
"You're not single," I said, rolling my eyes as I plopped down beside her. "You decided you hated Jasper, which happens every few months. You'll be back, spending all of your time with him and having great sex before you know it."
"He just, ugh!" she huffed. "He's so stubborn."
"So are you. A hell of a lot worse, actually."
"I thought the whole, bestie thing meant you always had to be on my side?"
I hit play on the remote and shrugged. "I figure honesty is better than lying to you. I mean, eventually, he might get tired of the on-again-off-again thing, and though I'd gladly punch him in the balls for you if you'd like, I can't blame him."
She sighed ever so dramatically and laid her head on my shoulder. "You might be right. Let's see how I feel after the movie and maybe I'll call him."
I had to force my laughter back down. Of course she'd call him. She'd call him, they'd have sex, and tomorrow things would be perfectly fine again. I hoped one day the game between them would end and they'd actually commit to each other, but the hell if I knew. I might have had issues, but Alice did, too.
Maybe that was why we were best friends.
If I was having a meltdown, she'd step up and force me to deal with it, and the same went for her when she was having one. Our crazy complimented each other.
"So . . . how big is it?"
I cocked my head, scoffing. "No."
"It's a penis, not a secret. You can tell me about it."
"It's . . . the perfect size. It's not like it's a monster cock, but it's not small either. I quite enjoy it."
She laughed, throwing her head back. "So, I did well with the setting you up thing?"
My lips curled into a smile, even though I didn't necessarily want to give her this satisfaction. I didn't much enjoy being wrong. But I was this time. Going out with Edward was one of the best things I'd ever done. "Yeah, you did. How'd you manage it anyway?"
"He and Jasper are in some fantasy football thing together and were having drinks with a bunch of other guys a few weeks ago. I met Jazz there and zeroed in on the handsome man. Asked if he was single — assured him it wasn't for me — and then told him about you. He agreed pretty easily, so I'm guessing saving lives leaves little time to meet women. He was probably just horny."
I laughed, though I was unsure if she was right. Edward had seemed a little surprised when I asked him to my apartment, but . . . it could have been faked, I suppose. Either way, I couldn't put him down for that.
I was exceptionally horny, after all.
. . . . .
Once our sappy, happily-ever-after movie ended, Alice did, in fact, call Jasper. She said the usually, "I'm sorry," and, "I love you," and threw in a, "I was an idiot," before she flew out of my apartment in a hurry to go — I'm assuming — have fabulous make-up sex.
It wasn't until fifteen minutes after she left that I got my usual text.
You know exactly how to help me get over my idiocy. Love you. And apples, by the way.
It was only quarter 'til eleven when she left, so I decided to stuff my face with cold, delicious, leftover pizza and boot up my laptop and continue writing whatever the hell it was that I was writing.
Only I didn't get to because my phone rang with the handsome Edward Cullen's name on my screen.
I probably should've been ashamed at how fast I answered, but I was not. Not even a little. I was ashamed at how I answered, though. "Hi."
Lame.
"Hey, Bella," he said. "It's not too late, is it?"
"No, not at all. I thought you were working?"
I wasn't quite sure what it meant that I knew when he was and was not working, but I did. I memorized it when he'd told me.
"Yeah, I am. I'm covering consults for the ER and keeping an eye on my patients, but I had a lull, so I figured I'd call. I may have just missed your voice."
Cue the ridiculously stupid smile. It was in full force. "Wow."
"Too corny?"
"No."
"Good," he chuckled. "Because I did and I've decided that I need to see you again tomorrow."
"I think that can be arranged."
"Excellent. Is a movie okay? Say around . . . five-ish? We'll grab dinner first. I do need some sleep, otherwise, I'd request your presence earlier."
He was so insanely . . . adorable. Yeah, adorable worked. He was handsome, sexy, and adorable. A combination I didn't realize existed. He was also funny, which with all of the other qualities he possessed, seemed impossible.
Not for Edward Cullen, though.
"Five-ish works for me," I said.
"Great. I should get back to work, but I can't wait to see you again. Goodbye, beautiful girl."
Remember how I said I wrote the kinds of books that made teenage girls squee? Well, he did that to me once we'd hung up. I squeed. Loudly. And even kicked my feet a little. I had no clue who I'd become and what happened to the semi-depressed woman from a few weeks ago, but I tried not to think about it.
Living in the moment and all.
