SM owns not me.
To my girls - Lynn Pepper and Kennedy Nicole for the help with this new baby of mine.
Thanks to everyone who is reading and reviewing. I love each and every word you leave me. I wish I had the time to respond to all of you - but I just don't. I write like 3 other stories, work full time, and have 2 kids. But I do love every email that hits my inbox telling me I have a review! xoxo
Hands
Chapter 3
I am naked. I am twisted uncomfortably in sheets that smell like him. I have a dry mouth. I have a pounding headache. I also can't wipe the stupid smile off my face.
I'm in flannel boy's bed. Alone. But in his bed nonetheless, after having the best sex of my life.
I see one of his flannels and I put it on. It just covers my ass, and I button it up before opening the flimsy door and trying to find him.
Alice and Jasper are asleep on the pull out couch. Edward is asleep too, in the drivers seat. He has it reclined as far as it will go, but he doesn't look very comfortable.
I wonder why he didn't stay in bed with me.
I kiss his forehead, he stirs. My fingers trail down his exposed chest. I sit on the arm of the passenger seat and reach for his hand. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, "Hey," I whisper to him, tickling the palm of his hand.
He looks at me, then moves his hand out of my reach before fixing the seat to a more upright position.
"You gonna get ready to go?" he asks, his voice is thick with sleep. His eyes narrow as he see's the shirt I have on.
"I don't have to..." I trail off, reaching for him again.
"Could you not find your clothes?" he asks, standing up abruptly. My efforts to feel him again are in vain. He begins to walk back towards his bedroom.
"I didn't really look..." I tell him about my clothes, following close behind. He pulls up his jeans, but they slid down again, exposing a little of his ass.
We reach his room and he starts picking up my clothes, tossing them toward me. He rubs his face. "You didn't have a bra did you?" he asks looking around, scratching the back of his head.
"Ah, no." I shake my head looking down.
"Thanks. I had a nice time, or whatever," he waves his hands dismissing me.
"Right." I am so utterly confused.
He pulls a shirt on over his head, then leaves. I hear him go in the bathroom and seconds later I hear him begin to pee.
I try not cry as I get dressed. I fold his flannel, then unfold it and leave it on his floor.
Fuck him.
I make sure I have everything and do the walk of shame. On my way out, I slam the door, and I hear the rattle that sounds from the force.
I wipe the tears from my face as I sit in my car. The only one left in the bar parking lot.
"Stupid." I tell myself as I insert my keys into the ignition.
It won't start.
"Fucking piece of shit!" I yell, hitting the steering wheel.
I turn the key again.
Nothing.
I search my bag for my cell phone. It's like a black hole. I end up dumping the contents on my passenger side seat in order to find the stupid thing.
I try Rosalie first. No luck. I try Emmett, who also fails to answer his phone.
No one else could come help me right now I know it. I either have to go back and knock on the door to Edward's RV, or I have to call my father. I look at the RV full of scorn and I know the last thing I want to do is walk back and ask him for help.
"Daddy..." I say into the phone when he answers.
My father has questions. "What did you do last night?" "Where did you sleep?"
"I had to much to drink, my friend Alice said I could crash in the RV..."
"They couldn't come help you?"
"Ah...no." I tell him, leaving it at that. He mumbles at least they didn't let me drink and drive. I beg him to drop it, he does - for the time being. I wait patiently in the parking lot for him to come help me.
I greet him with a hug when he pulls up in his police cruiser.
He sets up the jumper cables and starts my car. I thank him. He kisses my head, and comments that I smell like pot and booze.
"Daddy don't," I beg.
"I won't say what else I think you smell like..." he tells me, and I want to die.
I am a Daddy's girl. Ever since we lost Mom when I was fifteen, I have taken care of him. Cooked him dinner. Washed his laundry. Cleaned the house.
That is until I moved out. He says I don't come around enough or call anymore, only when I need something. I try to cook dinner for him once a week, but I guess that isn't much.
"Take care, Bells, don't be a stranger." He chuckles as he climbs in his police cruiser.
"Thanks, love you." I call out to him.
When I pull away, I notice Edward staring at me through his murky window.
I will myself not to look back, but it's no use. My eyes go to the rear-view mirror was I wait to pull out of the parking lot. He is now outside the RV smoking, staring in my direction.
I'm so glad I didn't have to physically turn around, and he has no idea I am looking at him.
I want to say I will never look back again, that I am done with Edward Cullen. That this infatuation I have with him isn't going anywhere, and he isn't worth this feeling of rejection. The feeling that sparks the question; "Is something wrong with me?" Which in my case - is kinda ironic.
I am a glutton for punishment though.
Later in the day, my phone chirps with an update from Facebook. Edward Cullen has invited you to Timothy's Tavern, a last minute gig, about twenty minutes outside of the city.
Maybe he just didn't feel good this morning. Maybe he isn't a morning person. Maybe I shouldn't take things so personally.
He said he had a good time.
I wouldn't even entertain the thought that I was wrong. He invited me. He wanted to see me again.
I take a nap, then shower, getting ready to see him again. I think about what I will say to him tonight. I imagine he will say he is sorry for being so out of it this morning. He will invite me to hang out with them again tonight.
Wishful thinking?
Rose calls back. Hours later. Day late and a dollar short. I let it go to voicemail.
Peter calls too. I don't even have the patience to talk to him. I never truly have the patience to speak to him.
I find these black heels in the back of my closet that Rose bought me last year. I never wore them. They really aren't my style, but I wonder if Edward will like them. The one blonde he was with was wearing heels like this. What I mean is fuck me heels.
I pick them up and examine the shoe as if it's a foreign object. Jimmy Choo. Studded. Skinny heel, it looks like it could snap. TI feel the thick straps. A few buckles around the ankle. They definitely are fuck me heels. I pull out this black dress I bought and have been way to afraid to wear. It hugs my ass perfectly. It's so short. It looks like I painted it on.
I forgo stockings, and slide my feet into the Jimmy Choo's. Fuck. My legs look like they go on forever and the shoes are to thank for that.
I don't do more than lip gloss and eye liner.
I straighten my hair.
I don't look like me. I look fucking hot if I do say so myself, just not like me. I can't wait to see Edward's reaction.
I pray I can walk. That I don't fall flat on my face.
I walk in the bar, Alice and Jasper are at the table with all the merchandise. "Hey Bella! Glad you could make it!" Alice seems happy to see me, this is good.
"Of course!" I tell her, as she hugs me.
"Edward can be so oblivious sometimes, I'm glad you don't seem too upset with him," she goes on.
"No, I mean, it must be hard to live like he does, I get it." I smile.
"I'm so glad you get it." Alice beams.
Jasper nods hello to me. I say a simple hey.
"You look amazing." Alice gushes. "You will most definitely get some attention in that tonight!"
All I can think is that Alice just confirmed how much her brother will like the way I look. That this morning was a misunderstanding, and I look around for him.
"Is he around?" I ask her, my eyes scanning the bar.
"Ah, I'm sure he is somewhere around here..." Alice gets distracted by a customer wanting to buy Edward's EP. I walk closer to the bar, my eyes still searching for him.
I spot him perched at the end of the bar, sipping a beer, spinning a quarter.
I take a deep breathe and put my shoulders back, my head up, and I hope the way I move my hips looks half as sexy as I feel.
He hears the clicking of my heels and looks over, keeping his eyes down. His eyes locked on my heels then slowly climb up the rest of my body.
I don't fail to see the way he licks his lips when his gaze hits my thighs.
But when his eyes meet mine, he looks away. He picks up his beer, and takes a long pull.
"Hey, you," I say, standing next to him.
"Hey." he responds, looking everywhere but at me.
"Thanks for inviting me tonight, that meant a lot after last night." I tell him, trying to keep my hands off him. I want to touch him so badly.
"I did?" he questions me. His eyes narrow in confusion.
"On Facebook..." I remind him.
"Alice invited you." he states.
"Oh," I shift my weight from my left foot to my right. The bar tender approaches and I order a beer.
He doesn't speak. He doesn't look at me. I don't think he would have if I didn't get the nerve to speak again.
"Did I do something?" I ask, shaking my head. He finally looks over at me.
"Why would you think that?" he looks confused, even more so than me.
"I just thought...last night...it was...at least I thought it was amazing."
"I never said it wasn't," he sips his beer.
I nod, "So, why the cold shoulder?" I ask, holding my breath.
He scratches the back of his neck, his features scrunch up then he lets out a sigh, "I thought you know how I am."
I want to laugh. "I think it's pretty safe to assume that I have no idea how you are. I have no idea what you think, how you feel, what you expect, or don't expect..."
"You are a stunning woman. Talented. Very sweet...too sweet to get yourself wrapped up in my world. If you are smart, you'll stay away from me."
"Lets say for arguments sake that I'm not smart." I challenge him.
He doesn't say anything to that. "I'd hate to see you get jaded by all of this."
"I'd hate to never feel your hands on me ever again," I whisper breathily, biting my bottom lip.
His blue eyes are so intense. I can tell how hard he is thinking, holding his breath. He lets it out, "I don't date...I don't call...I don't invite any girl anywhere without the intent to fuck her. I won't remember your birthday, or give a shit about it or Valentines day. I won't write you a song, or even dedicate one to you. Commitment is not something I'm looking for, and you aren't the only sleeping in my bed. I don't make any promises except that I won't ever lie, even if the truth hurts. You can walk away whenever," he finishes.
"I don't want to walk away." I tell him, I can feel my hands shaking and my heart thumping inside my chest.
He looks at me and smirks. He shakes his head. "Don't get some distorted reality in your head that you could be the one to change me. I don't want you to get hurt."
"I'm a big girl," I assure him. I must be out of my mind. I must have no emotional self-preservation and be totally masochistic to do this with him. I have to have any piece of him I can get. He calls to me that strongly.
The thought of never having him touch me again hurts more than becoming one of his...I don't know...I wonder if he has a name for the girls he fucks.
"Have fun, don't take it seriously, and you won't get hurt." He tells me.
He is giving me advice, on how to be a band-aid or whatever he calls us. Us. Having a piece of him is better than having none of him.
"Big girl, remember?"
"Yeah, I can tell..." he trails off. "I'm not stupid. I'm not sure why you are into this...but I know you aren't the type of girl to fuck around with a bunch of guys."
"You're right...I don't fuck a bunch of guys."
And I don't.
"What do you call...all the girls that..."
"I fuck?" he finishes.
"Yeah..."
"Their names, Bella." he picks up his beer, and walks away.
