A/N: I'm sorry, chapter four was replaced with chapter five after I posted. A/N was lost and whatever questions I answered with it. Sorry for the ff glitch.
This is unedited, sorry.
The one good thing about school that could actually make a day bearable was ceramics.
Besides getting to express myself and paint pottery that I made, it was an amazing way to deal with stress. I was eyeing some nearly bone dry red clay that needed to be wedged.
This was the one class where no one messed with me, maybe it was the fact that when I wedged I beat the clay up and slammed it around a lot more than necessary.
Edward could use a plate… or a huge pasta bowl.
I grabbed the clay cutters and broke off a big piece of the pile before bringing it to the corner table and slamming both hands into it. My bruised wrist gave a dull ache but I kept going and let the sting encourage me.
My hand pushed forward and broke it in more, pushing past the dry cracks and picking it up to flip the clay. I kept pounding at it and pressing it until I could feel my arms begin to ache at the strain.
By that point I was completely fired up so why not put it to good use? I grabbed a bat from under the table and slammed the clay onto it before bringing it over to a wheel and setting the bat up.
I centered it quickly, all that pushing and forcing felt completely good for me. Clay was more helpful for the soul than it was for the skin.
Class seemed to end too quickly by the time I was cutting a bowl off the bat and putting it in the closet. I heaved a sigh and walked out of the art rooms across to English where I sat in the back like usual.
My Romeo and Juliet book was trashed, and when I went to look the morning after Edward had seen it, it was gone. I hoped he didn't throw it away, but I didn't want to bring it up either. If he was playing keep away for information I wasn't giving in.
I pulled out Wuthering Heights instead as my backup book and focused on Heathcliff and Cathy, thinking that I only had three more hours to endure.
The chair next to me moved violently and I could already smell the perfume that Lauren was doused in. She didn't even need to speak to alert everyone in the world that she'd arrived.
I looked up at her and tried to hide my disgust with her. Her disgust with me wasn't as covered up, though. Besides the usual sneer she was doe-eyed and smiled at me.
"Hey," I didn't answer. "So, Friday night, at the diner? Yeah, who was that really hot guy?"
Fuck no.
"Who?" I tried to make my voice not quiver or snap.
"The one with the red hair and the beefy arms," Beefy? Don't use beefy to describe Edward you bitch.
I sat still and didn't say anything, how could I?
I could tell her that I didn't know and I was new. She'd probably walk off and go to the diner every night to see him—flirt with him. My stomach clenched and so did my fists. If she got anywhere near him….
But, what if I told her he was my boyfriend? What if I just said it?
Everyone here always gossiped about how he was probably some loser who couldn't get a job and was failing school. Most people in school had seen me and Edward on occasion, the grocery store wasn't that big. Lauren had never seen him, though. She didn't know who he was, and what would she do if she found out about Edward? Oh God how it would bite her in the ass.
There were so many cons, though. The first one would be everyone would have access to him; they'd know where to find him, who he is. The one thing I had was the security that they couldn't properly judge our relationship because they didn't know us.
They still wouldn't, not about your relationship. Just because they can put a face to name doesn't mean that they can judge fairly.
It would give them ammunition.
It might make them stop.
That will never happen.
"Well?" Lauren sneered and her nice face vanished.
"I'm new; I don't know who he is." I rasped.
"Fucking useless," she whispered while getting up.
She'll go after him now…
You can make that stop.
She wouldn't stop…
--
Eight hours later I walked through the door of my home, my sanctuary, without my angel.
Work had been pure hell. The first two hours were fine; they were down one server so I got to waitress and had a pretty enjoyable time doing it, too. That was mainly due to Edward working the floor with me, though.
Around four or so Lauren walked in, wearing the shortest skirt and a tube top. In the middle of fall.
Edward kept side glancing towards me, knowing I wasn't comfortable with this, not one bit, but biting my tongue just the same. He ignored her table and when he went behind the counter to fill up someone's drink she nearly pounced on him with a variety of 'hey!', 'what's your name', 'I've never seen you before are you new, do you need a tour around town?' and when that failed she pulled out all the stops and was blunt.
"You wanna go out?" she was sitting at the counter, figuring out that Edward had to come back every five or so minutes for drinks or to pick up orders. Her elbows were up on the counter and she was twirling her hair with a finger and biting a straw for her milkshake every now and then.
Edward's eyebrows pulled down incredulously and he looked directly at me. His expression gave it all away. I continued to wipe down the table I was at and eavesdrop.
"Uh, I don't think so ma'am." He deadpanned and turned his back on her to occupy himself with the neatly organized silverware.
"What?" she nearly screamed. "Why not?"
"I have a girlfriend," And you're not his type.
"Well what does she look like?" Lauren's tone became sugary sweet and I swallowed.
I'd seen this before, in eighth grade she got Mike Newton to break up with Jessica Stanley after pulling this exact move.
"Cutest little thing that I ever did see," he smiled while he nearly sang the words.
"Cute? A man like you doesn't need cute you need a woman. Someone sophisticated and sexy," And not you.
"Sorry, taken," he grabbed a couple forks and walked out from behind the counter and to the back of the diner. I laughed a bit and he looked over and winked.
At the same time Lauren looked over and glared. I shook my head, in too good of a mood at the moment to even care. Too bad that didn't stop her advances. She was more determined for the rest of the night—until he went to work at the bar.
While I stayed at the counter she kept trying to persuade me to get his number, making it clear to me that I should give her his number once I got because he didn't look like my type. Dogging my self-esteem into making sure that she could get what she wanted. And even when Edward was leaving she followed him out, right on his heels and he was so occupied shaking her off he couldn't even come and say goodbye to me.
I came back to the present and fell down face first into the bed, breathing in his scent and trying desperately to relax. When that failed I crawled over the bed to the nightstand on Edward's side and dug through the stash of CDs for some classical music.
Between Yann Tiersan and Mozart I came in contact with something thick and heavy. Curious, I pulled the object out, being careful not get any of the CDs caught in the drawer. When my hand was out tears formed in my eyes immediately.
I flipped open the new copy of Romeo and Juliet, a hard covered copy with the original art on the front the same as my old one. Inside, the margins were marked with the same words from the original—minus the new comments from my old book. Edward's writing covered each page, each chapter, the same quotes were underlined and the same arrows were pointed in different directions from where they had once been.
I sat there for two hours and read each page and the comments that were made so long ago, now written in Edward's messy scrawl. New comments were added by him here and there, underlined romantic phrases and little asterisks next to things he wanted me to explain to him.
The stupid drawings my friends had made were reproduced in his scribbles and I laughed each time I saw one. I cried when I thought back to how happy I was when the originals were made, and how happy I was at that moment. He wrote my mother's comments differently, his script became less loopy and more cursive the way she would write.
At ten the front door clicked open and I heard Edward shuffle in, putting his jacket on the hook and then he went quiet.
"Bella, are you still awake?" he called.
He rounded the corner; his hair disheveled from work and school and glanced down at me on the bed. His eyebrows pulled together at the sight of me sitting on the bed crying and holding a book. At first his eyes went wide, probably thinking I'd picked up my old book and began to read it again, but when he studied my hands his cheeks tinted pink.
"Th—that's just, I was trying to make it better, and—"
"Thank you," I whispered looking into his eyes.
He dropped his backpack from his left shoulder and walked forward to the bed. He climbed on and leaned his forehead against mine when he was close enough, never losing eye-contact. His fingers grasped the book between his fingers and put it on the nightstand.
When his hands were free they went to my cheeks, the pads of his thumbs brushing the tears from under my eyes and on my cheeks. The room was completely silent; no sounds penetrated this moment, not the humming of the fridge, or the hiss of pipes or the sounds of the parking lot.
His eyes hooded and he leaned forward to press his lips lightly to mine. Our lips were soft, slow and tantalizing against each other, filled with hesitation and love.
Edward's hand slid down from my cheek to my neck and down my arm to my waist. Goosebumps broke out along my skin as his naked flesh dragged slowly along mine.
His lips were slow and methodic along my own with his heavy breath flowing over me and inducing a haze.
Slow, meticulously, patient and lovingly we removed clothing with tender fingers. We'd never been this gentle before, not since our very first time almost a year ago where he'd worshipped my body for hours before making love.
The feelings of possessiveness swam through and detest for anyone who would try to take him away from me, family or not, and I could never bring myself to doubt any justification in being with him.
Tender didn't last long as the stress from the past weeks started to break through and mounted into a desperate, fiery need between us. Fingers pulled and pushed, scratched and clawed, clung and possessed until it didn't matter whose limbs were whose and we moved as one person, one being desperately wanting acceptance and reassurance.
He whispered over and over again how much he loved me because somehow, after all this time, he still doubted he was enough. I knew he was afraid that I would leave and I was afraid he would tell me to leave, and in that way where we were so desperately in love that we were restless we found a hollowed out fear that couldn't be buried no matter how much love or adoration was wrapped around this anxiety.
We came violently with blood curdling screams and formation. We were curled in our own little shell, crying and screaming with our hands tearing flesh apart and digging for the soul.
Afterwards we curled together in a panting, sweaty mess of flesh and limbs, not ready to face any reality at all really. His hands were rubbing up and down my back and he was humming a song under his breath, nearly asleep.
I was pretty sure it was past midnight and the thought that I had to get up in six hours forced my eyes closed. As soon as a black blanket wrapped around me the phone started to shriek and squeal for attention.
Edward groaned loudly, sitting up and stumbling out of bed. He mumbled something under his breath and I watch his naked body disappear through the door.
"Hello?" he mumbled in his tired, grainy voice. "Oh!" I heard his feet pad against the floor as he rushed to bedroom. I was too distracted by his pelvis to notice that he was making hand gestures. "Renee!" he hissed.
"What?" I gasped while sitting up. I wrapped the sheet around my body because I already felt so disrespectful to her as it was.
"Alright, here she is Mrs. Dwyer, have a nice night." Edward handed me the phone and gestured if I wanted him to leave. I shook my head and pulled him down onto the bed before taking the phone from him.
A/N: Questions are welcome.
Don't forget to review!