Chapter 4

The next day was a Saturday, and my father was home until the evening. We spent the morning doing yard work; weeding the borders, cutting the grass and trying to make it look pretty. By mid-afternoon he was getting antsy from being cooped up in the garden, and left for the river, planning to spend some time with his fishing pole before starting work.

Once he was gone, I put on my black swimsuit, grabbing an old, dog-eared copy of The Catcher in the Rye. I didn't like Holden Caulfield much, but the descriptions of New York and his checking-out from school were somehow compelling. I was so absorbed I barely noticed the shadows creeping up the lawn until my stomach started to rumble, signalling dinner time.

The telephone rang as I rummaged through the cupboards, surveying the contents and running through menus in my mind. The shrill bell pierced through the quiet of the kitchen.

I walked over and lifted it from the wall, putting the yellow, plastic receiver to my ear as I played with the chord in my free hand. "Hello?"

"Whatcha up to, sweet girl?"

"Hey Ange, I'm making dinner. You?" I walked over to the cupboard again, dragging the extra-long chord behind me.

A sudden memory of my mother flashed through my mind. She used to pace the room as she spoke into the phone, a small 'v' furrowing her brow. I'd sit at the table, my legs swinging from the chair as I watched her. That must have been years ago—she died when I was four. Most days I barely thought of her.

"I'm inviting you to the drive-in." I could hear Mrs. Weber speaking softly in the background. "Apparently, there's a really good movie showing."

I paused for a moment, pulling a box of Kraft Spaghetti Dinner down from the shelf. "Who goes to the drive-in to watch the movie, Angela?"

We'd agreed the drive-in was lame before we even left junior high. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd been there. Kids our age only went to make out or light up, and I hadn't had much call to do either of those things.

Angela laughed. "Barefoot in the Park is on."

I sighed, shaking the box. The package rattled inside the cardboard. "We saw that movie last month. You said you hated Neil Simon plays, why would we pay to go and see that again?"

"Humor me." It was the way she said it that made my eyes shoot wide open. Her words reminded me of Edward, of the way he carried me across Buena Vista Park. A sudden desperate pang bubbled in my stomach.

"Angela, do I need to ask you 'yes and no' questions?" This was a game we played a lot, depending on whose parents were around. My dad might have thought Mrs. Weber permissive, but she could be conservative where boys were concerned.

"Yes," Angela deadpanned.

"Okay. Are we going alone?"

"Yes ... well no, ... sort of."

Her answer confused me. We were going alone, but we weren't. I sucked at this game. I twirled the telephone lead around my index finger, trying to think of my next question.

A sudden flash of inspiration came to mind. "Are we meeting someone there?"

"Yes." Her answer was emphatic. I could feel my heart start to beat faster.

"Are we meeting boys there?" I was dragging it out now, and Angela knew it. I tried to bite down my smile.

"Yeeessss." Her voice was almost a hiss. My body heated up as I realized exactly who we'd be meeting at the drive in.

"Angela ..."

"Bella …"

"Are we meeting Ben there?"

"Yes." She almost squealed. I chuckled down the mouthpiece.

"Is he bringing anyone?"

Please God let him bring someone.

"Of course, I'd hate for you to sit at the drive-in all alone."

That made me squeal. I jumped up and down on the tiled floor. The blood raced through my veins, making my body tingle like I'd touched an electric fence.

"I'll pick you up at seven thirty. Bring a blanket." There was amusement in her voice.

"I just need to call my dad. If you don't hear from me, I'm in." He was on the late shift tonight, but sometimes he would drive past the house and check I was okay. Knowing my luck, this would be one of those nights.

Fortunately, he was busy when I called, his mind occupied elsewhere. He asked me a couple of cursory questions before acquiescing, telling me to be home before midnight. I agreed readily, unable to believe my luck. My heart beat a little too fast, my breath was a little too labored. If Edward Cullen had that effect on me without even being near, God only knew how I'd be when I saw him in person.

Angela arrived just before quarter to eight, pulling up outside my house in her mom's old brown station wagon. She tooted the horn in an attempt to make me jump. I gathered up my purse and picked up the dusty, old blanket I'd found at the back of our linen closet.

She peered over her cat-eye glasses, nose wrinkling as she scrutinized the plaid pattern.

"I told you to bring a blanket, not a relic from Custer's Last Stand." She waved her hand at the blanket disdainfully. Her new, polyester blanket lay across the back seat, lurid in its green intensity. I covered it with my own, biting down a grin when I saw a grimace tug at her lips.

When we pulled up to the faded wooden box office, the sun was low in the sky, turning the trees on the horizon into a stark black against the backdrop of pink and orange. We handed over our three dollars, made up of various coins. The cashier nodded and Angela inched the car forward.

We scanned the lot for Ben's familiar, green Chevy, our eyes wide and intense. The lot was only half full, the bare, muddy spaces almost outnumbering the autos, and we easily spotted it parked on the far right-hand side of the field. Angela drove carefully, the gravel-covered path crunching under the car's heavy wheels. I felt my stomach fill with nerves and trepidation, my previous excitement buried under the fear.

"What if he doesn't like me?" I voiced my worries out loud.

Angela chuckled. "Of course he likes you. Ben said he hasn't stopped asking after you."

Her words weren't enough to calm me as she swung the car into the empty space alongside Ben. As we opened the doors, the aroma of cut-grass and gasoline invaded my senses, reminding me of the times my daddy used to bring me to the movies. I'd curl up in the backseat, buried under a pile of blankets and fall asleep halfway through.

The memory warmed my heart.

They were both leaning on the hood of Ben's El Camino. I watched as Edward raised a cigarette to his lips, curling them around the tip to inhale deeply. His eyes closed as he let the smoke wander through his mouth. When he exhaled, the blue-grey mist danced in front of his lips, and I wanted to capture it with my own.

"Hey." Ben finally noticed us and pushed himself away from his metallic rest. His Keds crunched as he walked across the gravel. Edward glanced at me through heavy lids, his lips full and red. He raised a finger, crooking it to gesture me over.

My feet obeyed before I had time to think it through. I looked down, watching them move across the pebble-covered grass. It was impossible to meet his gaze, even though I could feel the blaze of his stare burning my skin. I stopped when I was a few feet away from him, pushing at the ground with the toe of my pump.

"Bella." His voice was soft, and against my will I looked up. He dropped his cigarette, grinding it beneath his shoe. Clearing the three feet between us, he leaned down to brush his lips against my cheek.

I wanted to curl my hands around his neck and drag him toward me.

I wanted to devour his lips with my own.

I wanted.

A station wagon pulled up on the other side of our car, the windows wide open. "Daydream Believer" was blaring through the speaker of the car stereo. The three children crammed into the backseat stared at us with open mouths.

"You wanna get some popcorn or something?" Edward gave the kids a sidelong glance. They giggled and turned away, their attention already shifting to the play park just in front of the movie screen. I followed their gaze, remembering how I used to swing so high when I was a kid, that I thought I might fly off and hit the huge screen. I'd wanted to launch myself into the middle of a movie.

"Sounds good," I agreed.

Angela and Ben were whispering in front of her mom's car, his hand wrapped around her waist. I tipped my head toward the concession stand. She nodded and wiggled her fingers in an 'off you go' gesture.

The drive-in was mostly populated with families. Some of them were sitting in fold-up garden chairs, their coolers filled with picnics and beers. The movie trailers hadn't even started yet; just the adverts were rolling, the screen fuzzy under the reflection of the waning daylight. We walked toward the stands, our fingers grazing as we swung our arms. It made me shiver.

"Bella Swan." I looked up to see Jessica Stanley leaning on the concession stand, her stomach disappointingly flat. I wondered if a little baby was kicking away in there. "What did you do to your face?"

"Nothing much," I replied dismissively. She ignored me and stared open-mouthed at Edward, pushing out her ample bosom and flashing him a flirtatious grin.

"And who is this, a cousin of yours?" She reached out a hand, holding it in the air and waiting for Edward to take it. He glanced at her with amusement.

"This is Edward," I replied, silently begging him not to take her fingers.

"Who's Edward?" A deeper voice emanated from the side of the wooden stand. Mike Newton walked around the corner wearing bell-bottomed jeans and a psychedelic shirt. He looked like an extra from the Sergeant Pepper album.

I sighed. It was just my luck that they'd be here tonight.

"I'm Bella's boyfriend." Edward's response was firm, and he looped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. I wanted to jump up and wrap myself around him with gratitude when I saw Jessica's disbelieving stare.

"Bella has a boyfriend?" Jessica sneered, and I stepped back, wanting to put some distance between us. "Oh, my God, wonders will never cease."

"Speaking of which, I hear you've some rather wonderful news yourself." A familiar, dry voice came from behind me. Angela walked up and patted Jessica's stomach, and I wanted to laugh out loud. "When are you making an honest woman of her, Mikey?"

Mike looked like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. We all knew it was more than his hand he'd been sticking in Jessica's cookie jar. "I ... umm ..." It was fun to see Mike speechless. It almost made up for eight years of being an asshole.

Edward reached the front of the line, ordering a large carton of buttered popcorn and two bottles of Coke. He dropped a straw inside one and passed it to me, lifting the other to his lips and taking a sip. We waited for Angela and Ben to grab their food before wandering back to the cars, avoiding the children playing tag in the road ahead.

Angela grabbed my arm as we walked, pulling me back from the boys. "I'm going in Ben's car, and you're in mine, okay? We meet back at my place before midnight."

"You're letting me drive your mom's car?" She never had a good word to say about my driving.

"Noooo." She let the word drag out, whistling through her teeth. "I'm letting Edward drive my mom's car. You can ride shotgun." Her expression left me no room to protest. I didn't even try. The thought of watching his strong hands grasping the wheel, maybe driving to the lake on our way home, was enough to render me silent.

The trailers had started by the time we got back to the cars. Edward put the popcorn on the roof of the Ford then pulled at the speaker. Untangling it from the peeling green post, he hooked it on the front door. The kids in the road stopped playing and turned silent as a Disney trailer came on. A giant cartoon bear started singing and dancing with a half-naked child.

That was a film I'd be happy to miss.

I climbed into the car and pulled the door shut behind me, watching as Edward did the same.

From the corner of my eye I could see Ben reversing his El Camino. I wondered if they were finding another space, or leaving altogether. I didn't really care.

"You want some popcorn?" Edward offered me the carton. I dipped my hand in, kernels spilling over the side and on the floor around my feet. He leaned down and picked them up, flinging them out of the window onto the grass.

"Your face looks as though it's healing well." He leaned forward and scrutinized my skin, reaching out his fingers to tip my head so he could see it in the glow of the screen. "Have you heard how Eric's doing?"

"He called me last night at Angela's," I replied, trying to keep breathing while his fingers caressed my cheeks. "He's feeling a little stupid."

"He is a little stupid." Edward released my face, and I felt strangely sad. "He should know better than to dabble in that shit."

"It's a government invention. It's all their fault." My lips curled into a smile.

"So Ken Kesey says. I reckon that's just a god-awful excuse for the quality of his writing."

"You've read One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest?" I asked, watching as his long fingers curled around the popcorn carton.

"I tried." He threw a handful of kernels into his mouth. "He's no Kerouac."

"Kerouac isn't really my thing, I'd much rather read Salinger or Capote." I was showing off, trying to appear more cultured than I was. He didn't seem to notice.

Edward shrugged. "I like them, too." He offered me the carton again. I shook my head. "There isn't much I don't like, unless it's almost unreadable."

"Like Kerouac?" I replied archly.

He smiled and looked away, his eyes glancing at the screen. Jane Fonda appeared in full Technicolor glory, followed by a stiffly attired Robert Redford.

Jane and Robert started to argue about his stuffy ways.

"Would you walk barefoot in the park?" I asked Edward. He glanced at me from the corner of his eyes.

"Only if I wanted to get dog shit on my toes."

I laughed loudly. He watched me for a moment, a smile playing on his lips. I wanted to reach out and touch them, to see if they were as soft as I remembered.

His stare lasted longer than was polite, and I could feel my cheeks heat up as I looked straight back at him. My lips parted, and my chest rose rapidly as my heartbeat raced. In the dark gloom of the car, he looked almost ethereal.

"Hey," he whispered. His eyes were intense.

"Hey," I replied, biting down on my lip. He reached out and slung his arm over my shoulder, pulling me against his side. The hand brake dug into my thigh. His fingers curled against my neck, thumb stroking my skin.

The sensation was amazing and maddening.

"Are you watching this?" he asked, inclining his head toward the screen.

"No."

Edward leaned forward and unhooked the speaker, reaching to put it back on the stand. His long fingers turned the car key, his foot pressing down on the gas. The engine roared to life, and he slowly pulled out of our parking space.

I hesitated, wondering what would happen next. Edward drove across to the tree line, backing the station wagon into the deserted part of the drive-in. He flicked the switch on the shiny radio. The Doors' "Light My Fire"cut through the silence, the extended organ solo making the atmosphere seem wistful. I waited for Jim Morrison's voice to kick in.

We looked at each other, silent but for the music. I listened to the words, feeling them caress my skin, my heart tapping out a rhythm in time to the drum.

"The time to hesitate is through ..."

My brain was working overtime, trying to analyze what was happening between us. My need to know overrode my embarrassment.

"Edward?"

"Hmm?" His voice so close.

"Did you … um, mean what you said to Jessica and Mike? About being …"

"... Your boyfriend?" he finished.

"Yeah." I finally looked up to see him smiling at me. There were wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. I wanted to run my lips over them.

"I meant it."

Edward leaned forward, fingers curling around my neck. He pulled me toward him, our faces close enough to touch until we met in a clash of lips.

"No time to wallow in the mire ..."

I twisted my hips so I could face him, pulling one knee beneath me, the other leg braced against the floor. I grabbed his neck, tugging at his hair where it curled over his collar. He moaned as I kissed him back.

I wasn't wallowing in the mire, I was drowning.

His hand grasped my hip, gently pushing me back onto the seat, my body succumbing to his greater weight. His hand caressed my waist over my blouse, nails digging into my skin.

"Shit." He suddenly pulled back. A little 'v' formed between his brows as he stared down at the hand brake, right where his groin had been. I tried not to laugh, guessing he'd injured himself somewhere sensitive.

"Should we sit in the back?" I surprised myself with my own bravado. "There are fewer hazards back there."

Edward nodded his agreement, climbing through the gap between the front seats. Once he was through, he reached forward to help me clamber over. He kept his hand firmly on mine, turning me until my body lay on the seat beneath him.

I could feel every inch of him pressed against me. His weight anchored me, as he leaned forward and placed his lips on my neck. Sucking gently, he scraped his teeth against my skin. Small sighs escaped my lips as he moved his mouth toward mine.

He kissed me again, this time softly, his tongue glancing along my lip. I opened my mouth, inviting him in, caressing his bristled cheek with my hand.

"Can I touch your skin?" His hand hesitated at my waist, and I could feel his fingers tug at my blouse. I was desperate to feel him against me, and I nodded, wriggling my hips. His fingers pushed under my blouse, stroking the soft skin of my waist, causing goose bumps to pucker my flesh. He danced it up my torso until he reached my bra. Our lips moved frantically as we kissed.

"So soft," he murmured, brushing his lips against the corner of my mouth. I arched my back, pushing myself against him, feeling his pelvis grind against me. "Can I …?" His fingers played against my bra strap, begging entrance.

I breathed out a moany "yes." His fingers moved up, and I squeezed my eyes shut, letting him push my bra down until my breasts were exposed. He rubbed his thumbs over my nipples until they pebbled. I moaned louder, feeling pleasure shoot down between my thighs. Bucking my body against him, we created a desperate rhythm.

His mouth worked against mine, his tongue grazing my teeth. I curled my fingers in his hair, twisting, making him gasp. His breath was warm against my lips. He was lying between my thighs, his jean-clad hips rocking into me. Steel-hard thigh muscles strained against the thin fabric of my pants, scraping my inner-thighs. Pulses of ecstasy stabbed my core, as he pushed his hardness against me. I loosened my hold on his hair, moving my hands down to his behind, digging them into his firm skin.

"Bella ..." His moan was stifled by my lips. I rocked myself against him, breaking our kiss to gasp for air. The car windows were fogged, thin rivulets of water running down them as we breathed hotly. A ball of fire burned inside me, the sparks making me gasp. My head dropped back onto the car seat. I felt crazy, and sensitized, my skin tingling like I'd walked into a forest of poison ivy.

"Oh!" My eyes flew open as he pinched a nipple between his forefinger and thumb. The ball of fire between my legs exploded into an inferno, the pleasure making me buck beneath him. I started to yell, but he silenced me with his lips. His body pushed down, and he groaned deeply, his hips stilling between my thighs. Grinding his pelvis into mine, his hardness pressed against my sensitive core, causing a wave of delight to wash over me.

Bright flashes blinded my eyes. My body clenched repeatedly as I moaned.

His mouth absorbed my ecstasy.

Edward's weight on me was reassuring as I came down. I dipped my head to his shoulder, embarrassed at my reaction to him, and the way I wantonly responded to his touch. If I had the strength to go to church on Sunday, I was pretty sure God would send down a bolt of lightning to burn away my sins. My face was heated, and I glanced down at my legs, trying not to remember just how loudly I moaned.

Edward put a finger under my chin, tipping it up so he could see my expression. He was smiling at me, his eyes burning, and he kissed me before pushing up to sit back on his knees. His hand reached out and grabbed mine, pulling me up until our faces were just inches apart.

"You are the most beguiling girl I've ever met." His words warmed my heart as my actions froze my soul.

"Look at me." His words were commanding. I raised my gaze, catching his dark eyes. "I'm sorry if I pushed you too far."

"You didn't. I just wasn't expecting ... that." I couldn't even bring myself to say it. I was no poster child for free love.

"Nor was I," he admitted, "but it might have been the sexiest thing I've ever seen." He uncurled his legs from under him, moving until he could brush his lips against mine. "I want to make you do that every day … maybe twice a day. It was perfect."

I blushed again, this time more in pleasure than embarrassment. He pulled me to his side, tucking my head into the crook of his arm, and we watched the big screen as a giant Robert Redford staggered drunkenly around Washington Park, his feet bare and his suit askew.

He looked about as composed as I felt.

A/N Many thanks to SunflowerFran, Midnight Cougar, SparrowNotes24 and Pates Greeneyes for all their work and support.

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