Lay where you're laying, Don't make a sound
I know they're watching, they're watching
All the commotion, the kiddie like play
Has people talking, talking
-
Edward's laugh is deep and playful. I want to make a recording that I can play every time I feel blue. Instead, I just laugh along with him and hope I don't snort.
He fiddles with controls. Heat comes on and the music gets turned down. Pity. I really like that song.
"That was eventful." he comments dryly.
"Sure was," I reply. Did I just sound like something out of Annie?
"Are you disappointed the soiree had to end prematurely?" Edward continues.
I raise my eyebrows. "Seriously? I think I'll survive the crippling loss I feel at missing Newton hurl his guts up."
"I take it that's a regular occurrence."
"Every damn time the boy puts a drink to his lips. I swear he's got the constitution of a baby deer." I say.
It's great to hear Edward laugh again. To cause it.
"In that case, I think I'll call the cops myself next time." he answers.
Next time? He's planning on coming out with us again. I want to squeal but instead I take a moment to bask in the fact that I am alone in a car with Edward Cullen.
I watch the muscles in his thigh flex when he presses the accelerator. I observe the lazy way his hands rest on the steering wheel and the smooth way he shifts gears.
"Are you okay?" he asks me then, concerned eyes down on me.
"Yeah. I'm fine. Why?" I reply.
He nods towards my legs and I remember my fall on the beach. Now that he's brought it up, I begin to feel the sting quite prominently. The trickle of sticky blood and gritty sand itches my skin. I brush my dirty hands off on my skirt and realise I'm messing up his pristine car.
"Oh." I try to dismiss it. "That's nothing. Just a scratch."
"It looks deep. It could need stitches." he persists.
"Honestly, it's fine." I tell him. "I've had worse."
"Do you fall down a lot?"
I decide to be honest. "Depends on your definition of a lot. When I was a kid, my mom brought me to doctors because I was so clumsy. I've been in the emergency room so much that your father called Charlie to see was there something I wasn't telling him."
He chuckles. "My dad really did that? So much for doctor-patient confidentiality."
"I'm sure he had my best interests at heart. I think he was just skeptical when I told him my injuries weren't alcohol induced." I say.
"A rarity around these parts," Edward replies. "So are you sure you're feeling alright? Not light-headed or dizzy or anything?"
"I'm fine."
"Good," He smirks. "Now remember what we talked about on the beach?"
Before I can answer he shifts the car into sixth gear, floors the accelerator and the speedometer flies over the one hundred mark.
I should be scared, I am a cop's daughter after all. I should be gripping my seat and screaming at Edward to slow down.
But I am rather enjoying the way my heart is pounding and the buzz of excitement rushing through my veins. The engine is so quiet and the car is so solid, I barely feel the risk factor. Scenery whips by and Edward is glancing at me out of the side of his eye.
"Scared?" he asks.
"Not in the slightest." I respond and turn up the radio.
His reply is another chuckle. I rest my head on the heated leather seat and let the world pass me by. This is the sense of freedom I was thinking about. The sheer exhilaration I am experiencing is just what I need on a Friday night. Reckless and liberating and removed from the humdrum.
But the roads can be unpredictable. My stomach lurches over steep ups and downs. I shriek when I am lifted off the seat as we go over a large pothole. My head thwacks off the roof and both Edward and I let out a loud 'Fuck' at the same time. Wincing in pain, I rub my injured head.
"What are you swearing for?" I gripe.
The car slows. He's looking at me with concern but also anger.
"These damn potholes are ruining my car. And your head apparently. You weren't kidding about being accident prone were you?"
"That was not my fault." I swipe back. "You're the one doing a Schumacher impression on bad roads."
"Sorry that you got hurt." He sounds genuine.
"S'okay," I reply. "I was enjoying myself up to that."
"Not scared anymore?" he asks again.
"I never was." I am definite. I feel safe with him. But when his hand goes to the gear shift again, I bat it away.
"Message received." he jokes. "I'll keep the speed in check for now."
I laugh at his earnest expression and he joins in. We are interrupted by the sound of my phone. They call me quiet girl. But I'm a riot. That's not my name. Story of my life. I pull it out of my boot and the screen tells me Alice is calling.
"Hello?" I answer, still breathless and cheery.
"Bella? I've been trying to call you and Edward. Did you get away alright? Where are you now?" she demands.
"Oh…I must not have heard the cell over the radio. We're fine. Just outside of town."
"Already?" she queries. "Is he driving too fast? Tell him that if he scares you, Jasper will kill him."
"You can call off Jasper," Edward shouts at her. "Bella is begging me to go faster."
"Shut up!" I tell him. I reach across to clamp my hand over his mouth and he jokingly snaps his teeth at me. I poke him in the ribs instead.
"Quit it, Bella. I'm driving." he whines.
"I though you were an expert." I shoot back.
"Bella?" I recognize Alice's indignant tone. "Are you there?"
"Sorry," I answer. "What are you guys up to?"
"Jazz is bringing me home. We're dropping Rose and Emmett off at a party in Peter's house first if you're interested."
"Who's Peter?" I ask.
"Jasper's friend from college." Edward says in my other ear. "Do you want to go?"
I think about it for all of two seconds.
"No. I think I'll just head home."
"Make sure Edward drops you to your door. I'll call you in the morning." Alice says, with implication in her tone.
"Okay. Talk to you later." I say and hang up.
"Do you mind dropping me home?" I ask Edward.
He shakes his head. "Of course not."
"Take the next right -" I begin.
His indicator is already on. "I know where you live Bella."
"How?" I ask, bewildered.
He rolls his eyes at me. "Everyone knows where the Chief of Police lives. Haven't you noticed that yours is the only house that doesn't get TP'd on Halloween?"
I try to mask my embarrassment. "You don't seem the vandalism type."
"Don't I?" He flashes me a wicked smile. "Maybe I'm just an anarchist."
Anarchy always seemed like fun to me. But too messy. Too dangerous. I'd rather read about revolutions than be in one. But the idea of Edward getting passionate about a cause is indeed attractive…
The car comes to a smooth stop outside my house. The ride was much quicker than I anticipated and I am a little regretful of that fact.
"Here we are." Edward declares.
I hope he will cut the engine in a subtle indication he wants to prolong our interaction. He does not.
"Are you going out tomorrow night?" he asks out of the blue.
"Yeah," I answer distractedly. "We're going to the club."
Where are my keys? I pat my pockets and hear no jingle.
"Oh," Edward replies. "I'll probably see you there."
I am panicking. Where the hell are my keys?
"Shit!" I realise where they are. "Shit. Shit. Shit."
Edward looks at me like I've sprouted an extra head and a third boob.
"What's wrong?" he asks me.
"Keys," I groan. "I don't have my house key."
"Do you have a spare?"
I shake my head dejectedly.
"Can you call your father?"
"He's out of town." I explain. "He's not due back until Sunday evening.
I always knew all that fishing would cause a problem eventually.
"Did you lose it? We can go back to the beach and look." Edward says.
I fit the pieces together to inform him where I left it.
"My locker. I didn't plan on ditching class and I left my stuff in school," I sigh and take out my phone. "I'll call one of the girls and see if I can stay with them."
As I speak and fumble with the stupidly teeny buttons on my phone, embarrassment floods my body. I feel silly and awkward and the cause of a tremendously unnecessary fuss.
"Who are you calling?" asks Edward.
"Alice. I don't want to bug Rose if she's still at the party." I hit call and only hear her chirpy voicemail. "It's off."
"Rose is going to stay with Emmett tonight. Is there anyone else you want to try?" he asks gently.
I think. Angela won't turn me away. Her dad raised her to be charitable. Neither will the Blacks, our families are friends after all. Or I could just turn up at the Brandon's house.
Edward seems to sense my hesitation. Without saying a single word he pulls a U-turn and swings the car around. Tyres screech and we are speeding away from my house.
I look at him questioningly.
"You're staying with us at Emmett's tonight." he states.
I begin to protest but he cuts me off. "No buts. I'm not leaving you stranded."
Objections die on my lips when I realise I really don't have another palatable option. Rose will be there so it shouldn't be so bad. And it should amount to a chance to unravel the Edward mystery a little further.
"Okay," I give him a resigned smile. "Thanks."
He shakes his head at me. "No big deal."
It is to me.
I text both Rose and Alice to explain the situation. It makes me feel less desperate though that silly feeling won't leave me alone yet. The kind of silly where I feel foolish has wiped out the kind of silly where I feel carefree.
I stifle a yawn and read Rosalie's suggestive reply. If only Rose, I want to reply, if only.
However my actual reply is laden with snark and misplaced frustration at my stranded situation. Hello, I'm practically fucking homeless and Rose tells me where Emmett keeps his condoms.
I snap my phone shut. Dramatic hang-ups are the number one benefit of having an ancient flip up phone. Pressing the clear key just doesn't give the same satisfaction.
"Everything alright?" asks Edward.
"Fine," I mutter, rubbing my eyes with the heel of my palms. "Just my so-called friends being unhelpful."
"Good thing I'm here then." He smiles.
Smug bastard. God, I'm really tired now. My knees is stinging like hell and my hands are filthy. I want my own bed and to be away from Edward who makes me uncomfortable and gives me that flippy-over feeling in my stomach.
Edward parks the car and I move to get out. He is leaning expectantly at the door and giving me a strange look.
"What?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "I would have helped you."
I roll my eyes and pull the car-door closed behind me. "I don't need any help." I say.
He doesn't look convinced.
Straightening my knee makes me yelp. The sting turns to a burn and each step is agony. I curse my clumsiness - stupid genes, stupid Charlie, stupid Edward making me needlessly run from cops. Stupid Bella for doing whatever he tells me.
He's looking at me hesitantly. His arm is slightly outstretched.
I'm done with standing around feeling humiliated and I limp past into the complex.
For the life of me, I can't think of anything to say.
The elevator is about two square feet. The journey to the top floor takes hours. The temperature in the metal box is hellish.
Edward stands at the complete opposite side of the elevator, shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet. I look at him and his eyes are closed. He must be tired too.
We both jump when the ping rings out and I follow him down the carpeted hallway and into the apartment.
It's dark and still in here and again, I blindly follow Edward into the kitchen area. I stand awkwardly by the counter while he flips on the light and begins rifling through presses.
He's got a white box with a green cross on the lid in his hands. First Aid box, Lord knows I've seen enough of them in my time.
"Let's take a look at those scratches." he announces.
I do nothing.
"You sound just like your dad." I tell him.
He gives me a doubtful smile and pats the kitchen counter.
"I can do it myself." I insist.
He crosses his arms and waits, staring unnervingly through hooded eyelids. Who can resist that?
I hop up on the counter and he pulls over a chair. The muscles in my leg twitch and his head is directly level with, uh, my skirt.
With a gentle touch, Edward begins to clean my scraped knees. When I flinch and suck my breath in through my teeth, he grips the back of my knee to hold me still. His hand is warm and feels nice there. His head is bent, his breathing steady. I'm kind of trembling.
"Bella?" he says without looking at me.
"Yeah?"
"Um…the graze is bigger than I thought. You're going to have to take off your leggings."
He still doesn't look at me. He doesn't move enough for me to jump down either.
I kick off my boots and raise my hips up off the counter to gracelessly pull them down to my thighs. My sweaty palms stick to the clammy skin there.
I don't get to go any further before Edward takes over. His hands brush mine away. I feel his knuckles on my bare skin. He pulls the torn leggings off in one fluid motion, pausing slightly at my ankle before tossing them to the floor. He sets my foot on his knee. My bare foot rests on rough denim and I feel the strong muscle of his thighs twitch under my toes.
Edward grins impishly and returns to the business of cleaning me up.
Isn't there an artery behind your knee? I wonder if he can feel mine throbbing as my heart pounds.
I'm not used to this kind of intimacy. I don't know what to do. No-one ever looks after me like this and I am at a loss for words.
I watch him work, He cleans and bandages both my knees swiftly and precisely. His fingertips are rough and calloused but his touch his soft. My brain is forming all sorts of fantasies.
"Do you want to be a doctor some day?" I ask in order to break the deafening silence.
"Perhaps."
Perhaps he should work on his bedside manner.
"I just thought…'cos of your dad…and you're so good at biology…" I try explain, try keep the conversation going.
"I'm good at most things." Edward replies.
Including being infuriating.
"So you don't want to be a doctor?"
He pauses before replying. "I want to be happy. I don't know that medicine is the thing to do that."
Before I can respond, Edward pushes his chair back and stands up. "All done." he tells me and I scramble down from the counter.
"Thanks." I tell him.
"Anytime, I guess it's good practice for the future."
I wonder if he's making fun of me.
"I mean thanks for everything. For looking after me and taking me home and not making the situation worse than it is." I say.
"The situation is bad?" he questions.
"Well it's hardly ideal."
He takes a step backwards. "No. I suppose not. I'm going to make something to eat. You should get cleaned up. The bathroom in my room in the cleanest. It's the third door on the left. I'll find some clothes for you and leave them on the bed."
"Okay. Thanks."
Why do I feel like I've been dismissed?
Still, I do as I am told. In the small but clean en-suite, I wash my face and hands peel of my crumpled uniform. I fold it - the shirt, the tie, the pleated skirt- and when I set it away for the nest two days I know that the weekend has really begun. I brush my fingers through my hair and stifle a yawn in the mirror. I look a state. I feel a mess.
I peek out the door and find a neatly folded pile of clothes on the floor. They are too big and not mine but they'll do. I dress and shuffle barefoot out to the living area. The carpet is soft in between my toes.
It's still dark; the tv is on the only source of light and it is a dim flickering that makes my tired eyes ache. Edward is on the balcony smoking. I perch on the edge of the leather sofa and note the plates of sandwiches on the table and the pillow and blanket folded at one end.
I haven't eaten since lunchtime really so I take a sandwich and begin to nibble. Yum.
A blast of cool air hits me as the balcony door open and in comes Edward. Yum again.
He looks at me for a moment with the oddest expression on his face, confirming my suspicions that I look a mess.
"I found some painkillers," he tells me, pointing to a glass of water and two white pills on the coffee table. "Emmett got them that time he hurt his knee so they are probably kinda strong…"
I have them gulped back before he's finished talking and he gives me another one of those odd looks. Boy must think I'm a nut job.
"Never mind." he says and picks up a sandwich. I am acutely aware of the sound of chewing and swallowing.
"Thanks for making the food," I tell him. "And for making up the bed for me."
He exhales very slowly. "You don't have to be thankful for every little thing someone does for you Bella. "
I don't really know what to say to that. It's not the first time I've heard that I'm a prime example of being overly grateful.
"You're welcome would be a sufficient answer."
"You're welcome." he replies stiffly. "But what did you mean about the bed? It was already made."
I gesture towards the pillows behind him. "How was that already made?"
"That's for me Bella. You can sleep in the spare room."
The room he had already referred to as his.
"No way. I'm not kicking you outta your room. The couch will do me fine." I say.
I really don't want to be any more of an imposition.
"I'm not arguing over this. You're not sleeping on the couch and that's final." he states.
I can feel my face grow heated. I imagine it glows like red hot coal. I don't see myself ever being able to win an argument with Edward though I might have some chance of I keep looking at the floor.
"I'm so tired now I'll crash anywhere. And I'm betting those pills will help. So the couch will do me fine and I'm not arguing anymore either."
I fold my arms petulantly just for good measure.
More awkward silence during which I check my phone repeatedly for a reply from Alice.
"Do you think Alice and Jasper are okay?" I ask.
"I think they're more than okay." Edward answers.
"But I still haven't heard from her since we left the beach and it shouldn't take that long for him to drop her off."
He gives me a look that seems to question my intelligence.
"No. It shouldn't take long to drop Alice off in time for curfew." he says, "What takes time is parking the car behind the stable, avoiding the security system, climbing a trellis, sneaking into Alice's bedroom and staying there for as long as possible."
"Right. Of course." I blink and try to act nonchalant. Try to pretend I know what the hell Edward's talking to about. Try to ignore the twinge of sadness that comes with the fact Alice has been keeping secrets from me.
Edward makes no reply. He passes me the bag of potato chips and I take a handful.
He steadily flicks through the channels - pausing, looking at me for a reaction then moving on.
Then out of the blue he asks, "Are your bandages too tight?"
"No," I reply, setting my plate back on the table with a thud. "Just feels a little stiff. Guess I won't be spending any time on my knees this weekend."
Ground please swallow me up. Why do I allow such trite to spew from my mouth?
Frozen, I look for Edward's reaction. It is one of complete and utter amusement.
"Is that how you usually pass the time?" He smirks.
"That came out wrong." I say.
He leans closer, draping his arm across the back of the couch. "How did you mean it?"
"Obviously I was referring to church." Sincerity oozes from my voice. "What else could I mean but prayer?"
Edward throws back his head and laughs heartily. I join in and just like that, the tension is broken.
"Obviously." he echoes.
We laugh again and I feel lighter than air.
"Here." Edward pats the cushion on his knee. "Put your feet up, You'll be more comfortable."
"I'm fine -" I am cut off when Edward gently grabs my ankles and manoeuvres me so that I am lying on the couch with my feet on his lap. I grudgingly admit that this is more comfortable.
Edward smiles at me, then flicks the channel. I nod this time and with a blanket thrown over us, we settle down to watch the sitcom.
This is definitely comfortable. A new kind of easy that soothes and confuses me. How is it that we can go from tension so thick you would need a chainsaw to cut through it to this amiable relaxation.
Is it weird to be so comfortable around a virtual stranger? Is it unnatural that my mind and body react to him in ways I can't control? Is it sick that regardless of his reasoning, I know in my heart that I will keep putting myself in the position to be close to him and I don't give a flying fuck how I fare out?
I begin to think there is a difference between discomfort and tension anyway. Whenever I have to get a shot I feel physically sick as I lie and wait on the plastic bed. My stomach churns with uncomfortable dread and I am stiff and irritable and anxious about the needle.
But when I lay on the bed in the piecing place I felt completely different. Sure I was tense as hell and squeezing Rose's hand way too tight. My heart pounded and my palms were sweaty. But I was full of anticipation and nervous excitement - an altogether different sensation than the vaccination fear.
I wonder was it possible to confuse the two feelings.
Then logical thought ceases when I feel fingers brush against my ankle. Once could be accidental. Twice must be deliberate. My foot twitches involuntarily at the unfamiliar closeness. My toes curl and my breath hitches when Edward slips his index finger under my woven bracelet and circles the circumference of my ankle.
"This is nice." Edward murmurs, his eyes on the hand still tracing my skin. For a second I think he means just lying like this but then I realise he means the bracelet.
I stop myself from saying thanks again. I watch him finger the tan leather strip and the blue and green beads that flash like jewels.
"Do you always wear it?"
I give him a shaky nod of confirmation. "My mom sent it to me," I tell him. "She got it in Tijuana or Taiwan or somewhere. It's hard to keep up with her travels."
"I've got some jewellery belonging to my birth parents," he says quietly. "Does it remind you of her?"
I chew the inside of my cheek for a moment before responding. "Not really. It kind of reminds me to be like her. She's carefree and optimistic and confident. I'm more like Charlie than my mom."
"So you wear it for yourself rather than for her." he observes.
"I suppose so. It's something personal. A secret almost. Doesn't everyone have something like that? To have something or do something just for themselves. Like how I got my bellybutton pierced."
The hand circling my ankle stills immediately. His eyes shine intense on my face and I'm a little breathless.
"You have a piercing?" Edward says slowly as if he is reconciling the idea in his brain.
My hand automatically goes to my stomach. "Yeah. I do. Alice and Rose talked me into it that time we went away last summer. They both got tattoos but I was chicken so I got this instead. I know it's a little pre-crazy Britney but it's not like I ever wear a belly top or anything…"
I trail off and don't know why I am trying to justify myself to him. No-one bar Rose and Alice even know about my pathetic rebellion. I'd hate to be the cause of Charlies' death if he got wind of it.
"Can I see it?" Edward gulps.
My hands feel heavy as I inch my too-big shirt up my torso to show him the plain silver bar glinting in my naval.
I hear him exhale. His hand jerks forward and then he pulls it back.
"Can I touch it?" His voice is barely a whisper.
I nod my consent. No more than two inches of my waist are exposed but somehow I feel naked under his gaze.
His ring finger lightly explores the piercing for several seconds - not a prod but a caress. Goosepimples erupt and tingles travel all over my body. Dark lashes cast shadows on his cheeks as his downward eyes concentrate on the task at hand.
A tiny eternity passes, then Edward covers me again and goes back to his original position
"Er…thanks." he says awkwardly.
I laugh and he joins in though I can tell he doesn't really get the joke.
"You're welcome." I reply.
We go back to watching the dated sitcom and content breathing and the annoying laugh track are the only audible sounds. This turns out to be an unorthodox lullaby that soon has me drifting off to sleep.
I wake again some time later to find myself being dropped on a bed with Edward looming over me. My eyelids might as well be glued shut and my mouth is dry and thick with sleep. The room is busy with inactivity.
"What the fuck?" I ask, voice muffled and croaky.
Moonlight shines through slats in the wooden blinds and the faint glow is sufficient to see Edward's sheepish expression.
I sit up in the bed and wait for an explanation.
"I told you I wasn't going to let you sleep on the couch." he says casually.
"And I told you I wasn't going to make you give up your bed."
He just shrugs in a way that is both endearing and exasperating. I draw my knees up around my chest. I will myself to wish that I had just gone back to school earlier and none of this keyless drama would have happened. Despite my best efforts I can't bring myself to regret any of this, as much as I would like to.
Muffled voices drift in from somewhere else in the apartment. I gather Rose and Emmett have returned. Why can't it be like when we were younger, when Alice, Rosalie and I would squash into a bed together and boys didn't even come into the equation?
I'm not trying to listen but I can't help but hear the giggles, the hushed voices and the squeal that comes from the occupants of the rest of the apartment. Can I really send poor Edward back out to that?
The darkness has confused my sense of space. I reach out to stop Edward walking away and grasp blindly.
I intend to find his hand. My sleep addled body directs my hand in another direction. I find the waistband of his pants. Hmm…he must have changed. Edward was wearing jeans before. Now my hand easily slips past the gathered fabric which is clenched between my fingers. My knuckle collides with his hipbone where the skin is surprisingly soft.
"Wait," I say, not letting go. "You don't have to leave."
I feel a swallow go through his body and a tired boldness makes me pull him toward me. And he proceeds to crash into the bedside locker and send a lamp and several books hurtling to the floor. He lets out a surprised groan and for a moment we are stock still and the voices in the other room become completely muted. Then laughter roars from outside the door and infects its way into ourselves until we are laughing too.
I thank the heavens Edward has tied the drawstring on his trousers or else the situation would be vastly more awkward.
"Bella?" he says. "You can take your hand out of my pants now."
Right. My hand feels cold as I wrench it away. My voice is still fairly groggy.
"Er…I just meant that…um…well this is a big bed and you can sleep here too if you want."
I can't see Edward. He is busy hastily tidying the mess we created.
"I don't want to impose." he replies.
"D'ya really want to go back out there?" I ask, stifling a yawn.
"I suppose not." He sighs. "Are you sure?"
"I just want to go back to sleep."
I lie back and fix the covers around my chin. Edward quietly walks to the far side of the bed and gets in. I cling to the edge of the bed desperate to keep as much space between us without hitting the floor.
I gather Edward is doing the same because he almost yanks the quilt right off me.
"Sorry," he says when I yelp. "I'm not used to sharing."
"Don't worry about it." I reply and turn to face him. His eyes are closed and his breathing is too steady.
"Sweet dreams, Bella." he murmurs.
Right back atcha.
"Goodnight Edward."
I close my eyes and try to relax. There are several silent moments.
"Bella?" he whispers.
"Yeah?"
"Are you comfortable?"
"Yeah," I reply. "Are you?"
I feel his slight nod on the pillow.
"Yes. Very." he whispers again.
I wonder why that is, until I fall asleep.
Thanks for reading! Hope you all liked it! thanks again to everyone who has been reviewing! I'm not sure yet if there'll be an alternate pov excerpt for this chapter. If not I'll send out a teaser instead over the next couple days.