Take What You Want
Chapter 4
Word Prompt: Handle
Playlist: I Kinda Like You by Jeremy Ashida
The Bitch Song by Bowling for Soup
February came and went. That ridiculous holiday meant for couples came and went, and so did that stupid dance that I thought Mike would ask me to but didn't. Maybe he didn't want to go with me since I've yet to get my contacts. I've been wearing my glasses since the night of Skateland. Oh, well.
Basically, February sucked, but it was getting better. Slowly. Because I was coming to terms with a lot of things. Well, with a lot of my feelings for things. Well, people.
Like Edward.
Despite my deep desire to dissect Edward's neck kiss and blatant dismissal of our chemistry – which there totally was – I had to let it go. It was and remains the safest thing to do.
Truth is, I have no clue what to think of Edward. He's just like no one I've ever known. There are no rules for him. He's on his own playing field doing whatever the hell he wants while the rest of us are waiting in the wings trying to figure out how to play and win the game. Not that I want to win. Ugh, again with the idea of winning and Edward. Just . . . no.
So, I let it go. I sat back, watched him hang all over Jessica, watched him take her to the dance – which I attended stag – and just became his friend. It's good; it works for us. It's what I wanted to begin with anyway.
And Mike, well, after my hand holding with Mike at the skating rink, I found myself hanging out with him more. He's asked me out on a few dates. We even went to the movies and held hands there. He gave me a kiss on the cheek when he said goodbye. And even though my heart felt good, and I was amazed at how much better I was getting at this dating, flirting thing, I kept comparing him to Edward.
Well, not really.
I mean, I kept comparing his kiss to Edward's.
Edward's one kiss on my neck, that is. The kiss that incidentally kept me up very late, just lost in thought about it. For several nights. Okay weeks. I still dream about it, but I try not to think about it when I'm awake. Like now. Crap.
Regardless of the sexual attraction I have to Edward, his personality still repulses me. Sort of. And he still stinks. A lot. Plus, he's dating Jessica, so I just try to stop thinking about him altogether. I really do.
Except when I see him kissing Jessica between classes. Like right now.
I stand off to the side, sorting through my backpack, glancing at them every now and then. His hands roam her back slowly, he pushes his thigh between her legs, and licks her lips. Gah!
"Hey, you," Alice says, breaking my concentration on Edward's tongue.
"Hey, we still on for a movie this weekend?"
"Yeah, girls' night. Woot." Alice pumps her fist enthusiastically, faking excitement. Jasper will be out of town for the weekend visiting his grandparents for their wedding anniversary.
"You'll survive."
"You'll provide me with chocolate, right?"
"Of course."
We amble down the hall to our next class, discussing what movie we'll watch when Edward sidles up next to me. I'm used to his arm around me as well as him tugging me around by my hand now. He just does what he wants despite my protests. "What's the plan this weekend, cookie?"
"Chick flick."
"Sweet. Oh, please be The Notebook. Oh, please. Oh, please."
"You're not invited," Alice says. "Girls only. Besides, Bella's mom is at her class tonight, and her dad's working late. Charlie would go nuts if he caught a – gasp – boy in the house."
"He's not that bad," I say, defending my dad. I'm just his little girl, that's all.
"Aw, come on. I got nuthin' to do. Jessica's got a sleepover thing. Please. I'll leave before anyone knows I'm there."
Alice and I exchange looks and nod simultaneously.
"You girls are so easy." He walks us to French class, arms around both of us. When Jasper's in sight, Edward releases Alice with a "Sorry, man," and ushers me into the classroom by hand. It's kind of nice. Friendly. I like it.
-TWYW-
Edward groans through all of The Notebook (who am I to argue his choice of movie?) as Alice and I fawn all over Ryan Gosling. He actually seems really annoyed. Like he's not amping it up. He's such a strange guy. I wonder if I'll ever figure him out.
It gets late and Alice leaves us after gorging on Pringles and chocolate covered raisins. It's the first time I'm alone with Edward – other than in a car – but it's actually quite fine. I've grown rather comfortable with him over the past few weeks. He's nice. Fun. It's simple with him. Mostly. And he's a good friend. Always makes me laugh. Even when he's being irritating.
"I need some sugar. You want?" he asks, and I nod. "'Bout time." He leans toward me, tongue peeking out of his mouth. I shove him away, though part of me wants to grab his collar and slam my mouth to his to see what it's like. And to see his response. Would he freak out and run away, or would he kiss me back?
He rummages through my kitchen like it's his own and comes back with a pint of Ben and Jerry's and a spoon.
"Where's mine?" I ask. He scoops an obscene amount of Chunky Monkey onto the spoon, crams it into his mouth, cleans it off and hands it to me, eyebrow raised.
I shrug and take a bite myself, noticing he cut his nails recently. They were getting pretty gross. He sits on the floor, his back against the couch, arm draped over the cushions. I sit beside him, sort of snuggling, and we share ice cream together.
"Can I tell you something?" he asks.
"Like you care what my answer is." I grab his hand before the spoon reaches his mouth then divert it to my own.
"True," he says, watching me thoughtfully. "You're a lot cooler than I thought."
"Gee, thanks."
"No, seriously. I mean, I know I'm like an acquired taste . . . a good one, too, from what I hear."
I knock him in the ribs with my elbow, and he 'oofs'.
"No, like I thought you'd be a fun girl, but just a girl, you know. But you're like different. I feel like I can . . . I dunno, be me."
"What does that even mean? You seem no different around anyone else. Aren't you always you?"
"I dunno. Just ignore me. Here, cream me." Edward opens wide, and I laugh because what he's just said is very, very dirty. He catches onto his joke and laughs so hard he collapses onto my lap and clutches my thighs.
"Oh, dear." I pull him up, and shove a heaping spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. "Consider this your one and only Bella Swan creaming."
He chokes on his mouthful, and I hit his back, helping him recover.
We catch our breath and sit staring at one another, eating and giggling.
"I feel sorta the same way, I think," I say.
"You do?" he asks, shy smile.
"I do. I could never have said that to Mike."
"Boo! I hate Mike." The scowl on his face is laughable.
"Why do you hate him? He's so cute."
"I don't care how cute he is."
"Ha ha! You just said Mike was cute." I prod him in the chest, and he smiles.
"I did not, I—quick, cream me again."
"Nice try," I say, though I give him another bite anyway.
"He's just . . . he's too boring for you."
I roll my eyes and hand over the tub.
"Just hear me out. Don't shut down on me like a girl."
"I am a girl, Edward."
"I am very aware of that, thank you. So . . . look . . . you like this Noah character, right? He's all lying-in-the-street, sex-in-an-abandoned-house romantic, and Mike's . . . Mike's like you-want-fries-too? romantic. Which isn't romantic. At all. He's lame, girlfriend, lame."
Edward calling me girlfriend makes me giggle. He's kind of cute all worked up like this and worried about me.
"It's fine. I like Mike."
"You like him because he's safe."
"That's not true."
"It's so true. He's so . . . vanilla."
"Oh, and you're what . . . mint chocolate chip?"
"Cherry Garcia, yo."
"Oh my gosh." I double over laughing, rubbing my thighs as they spasm a bit. "You are such an idiot."
"At least I'm interesting."
"Says you."
"And romantic."
"Again . . . says you."
"What the hell's that mean?"
"I hear Jessica talk. All she says is stuff about your hot bod and kissing ability, which by the way . . ." I flip my hair and turn on my Jessica voice, "is like totally the best ever. Even better than Tyler."
"Mmm, flip your hair again."
"I'm being her. It's just stupid."
"No, your hair smells great."
"I'm talking about your girlfriend. You shouldn't even be thinking about my hair."
"And you shouldn't be thinking about my tongue. I'm a taken man."
"I didn't say anything about your tongue."
"No, but you were watching it today."
"I . . . I was—"
" . . . Totally checking out my tongue today." Edward slips his tongue out of his mouth and wags it up and down.
I drop my head between my knees and moan.
"Aw, don't be shy. I like it. I love it when you watch me, actually. Just like you love it when I watch you."
"Oh my gosh, we are not having this conversation."
"Okay, come on, stop. You're being dumb."
I snap my head up. "No, I'm not."
"You are."
"You're with Jessica, and I'm—"
" . . . Lusting after Mike. Yes, clearly he's the boring man of your dreams, but there's something here . . . I don't really get it, but there is." He looks down quickly but then back at me.
"We're friends, Edward."
"Friends that want to kiss? I don't think so."
"I never said . . . I—"
"We're more than just friends. I'm dying to put you on my list."
I chew on my fingernails and groan, standing quickly, scanning the room, looking for an escape route. I can't believe we're talking about this.
"Sit down. What's your problem? Don't be all dramatic."
"Dramatic!" I shout, hands flying into the air. "You talk about sex like it's—like it's sharing freaking ice cream. And it's not. It's just not."
Edward tilts his head and scrunches up his face before throwing his head back and laughing.
"It's not funny," I say, stamping my foot and clutching my fists to my sides.
"You're such a pervert," he says lightly.
"I am not. You are." I point to him so there's no confusion. Really mature, I know.
"When have I ever said my list had anything to do with sex? When, huh?"
"You . . ."
He raises an eyebrow and stands directly in front of me, hands on my shoulders. "Look, I'm not gonna say I'm a saint. Hell, I'm pretty average . . . mmm, maybe above average when it comes to stuff I've done, but I'm not some sex-crazed guy. I mean, I think about it a lot. Like all the time, really, but I just . . . like to have fun, and kissing is fun. I've kissed a lot of girls, and—"
"Kissed?" I ask, wringing my shirt in my hands.
"Yes, kissed. And it mostly means nothing. It's just two mouths moving around, making the other person and yourself feel good. It's fun, but it means like nothing. But . . . it could mean something, and I . . . I kind of want it to mean something now. I feel like I'm getting too old. I mean, not old because I'm only seventeen, but I mean, more mature. Mature enough to know that it should mean more than what I've made it mean before. You know?"
"Not really."
"Well, of course you wouldn't know. I'm sure it means something when you kiss Mike."
"It doesn't. I mean, I haven't."
"What the hell?" Edward runs his hands through his hair, tugging.
"He hasn't kissed me yet."
"What is he waiting for? Idiot!" Edward paces my small living room, mumbling about Mike. Nothing positive whatsoever.
"If you were mine . . . dammit. This is so dumb. I—Jessica, and—"
"It's fine, Edward. I'm fine." I walk toward him and place my hand on his back. He jerks away from me, but then grabs me into a hug, plunging his nose into my hair.
"You smell so good. Mike's stupid, and you deserve more, and if you were mine, I . . . it would all be canoe rides to see the swans and rain-soaked kisses and—man, it would never be over."
"You're with Jessica."
"So I'll break up with her."
"You'll beak her heart. She really likes you."
"I really like you." Edward holds me in his tight embrace, and I reciprocate, bringing my hands up to his back and holding on, enjoying his strong arms wrapped around me. I really like his words too. Mike's never said anything like this to me, though he's told me that I'm pretty a few times. It made me feel good about myself, raised my self esteem even.
This is just wrong. I can't be the other woman.
"Edward?" I pull back, but he doesn't let me go.
"Hmm?"
"I don't . . . feel that way about you. I like you, but I . . ."
"If this is about Jessica, I'll handle her. She's—"
"No, we'd kill each other. We'd—"
". . . Be awesome together. We're already on our way to becoming best friends."
"So let's do that. Let's be best friends."
Edward stiffens then drops his hands from my back, shifting his weight from side to side.
"You really . . . I mean, you don't . . ." He rubs his neck awkwardly, looking tense.
"I really like you. You annoy the hell out of me, but I could be your best friend. Okay?"
"Okay." He sighs then smiles devilishly. "Can you still cream me?"
"What am I going to do with you?" I drop my head to his chest, and his body shakes with laughter.
"I can think of a few things," he mumbles.
"Please, don't. Stop thinking of things. And keep me off your tentative lists."
"Oh, no, it's not tentative. It's real. It's just in the future. You'll see."
"Mmm hmm."
"Yep."
"Okay, then."
"Alrighty."
"I'm going to go to bed now, I think."
"Okay, see you can't . . . say 'don't put me on lists' and then 'I'm going to bed'. Because you know what I think about when you say bed? I'm a boy, and boys are—"
"Gross."
"Exactly."
"And dirty."
"Totally."
"And they stink."
"What?" he asks, laughing.
"Can I tell you something?" I say, echoing his earlier question.
"Yes."
"So . . . as your best friend—"
"I hate the sound of this already, but, fine, yes . . . as my best friend, what?"
"You kind of, well, sometimes you . . . smell." I say the last word in a whisper.
"As in, I need to shower, smell?
"Yes?" I say it as a question.
"I smell bad."
I nod my head, and he lifts his arm to sniff his pit. He looks so adorable I'm rethinking this whole "lets be friends" thing already.
"Really?"
"Not all the time, but sometimes you're a bit ripe, and—"
"Ripe? Really? If you're going to be my best friend you can't lie to me. Tell me like it is. Be my inside source to girls here."
"Fine, okay, yes. You smell."
"You're such a bitch."
I make a strangled noise in my throat, feeling absolutely scandalized. When I look up at him he's laughing silently. He's such a jerk.
"Get out of here." I push him toward the couch. He snags his keys off the coffee table and heads to the door. We stumble over our feet, laughing. I wrench open the door, not looking while shouting, "Stop trying to kiss me! I'm never going to be on your stupid sex list!"
Edward's rigid, and I'm digging into his back with my shoulder trying to push him out of the door, but he won't budge.
"And don't think standing there will get you into my pants. I'm not gonna be easy just because I creamed you today, and—"
A throat clears, and I know I'm dead.
I peek around Edward's shoulder and keep my eyes trained on a pair of familiar shoes. "Hi, Daddy. Um, this is Edward. He's my best friend."
"Goodbye, best friend," my dad says and grips Edward's shoulder, flinging him out of our house, slamming the door behind him.
A/N: Take What You Want Tidbits are up on my blog. Link's on the profile. I'm throwing up pics, music, etc. Essentially anything that tickles my fancy, I'm posting for your entertainment. Woot. You may want to know that this Edward has been dubbed Dirtyflirtward, but you're welcome to call him whatever you'd like.
Hi, wolf girls! I see you lurking here, PrncessButtercup, TeamJacobYeah, and LuvinJ. There, there, it's okay to like Edward. It really is. And I won't tell a soul that you're reading about Edweird, I promise. ;)