The Twilight Twenty-Five

thetwilight25[dot]com

Prompt : Bookstore

Pen Name: jack queen king

Pairing/Main Character(s): Edward, Bella

Rating: T

COLLISION

So here we are. It's been - what, eight years? - since I've seen you, and I've been living in other cities, making and breaking relationships, changing jobs, moving houses. All that shit that happens when a person isn't settled because they haven't found the right direction for their life.

I've been looking forward to tonight for weeks, ever since I found I'd be flying in for this launch, for the book you've written.

And look at you! So gorgeous, still. One glance, and I'm as smitten as I was back then. Back before I screwed it all up by leaving, when all I wanted to do was stay.

You're in a navy blue dress, and your hair's darker - have you colored it? Maybe not, it's hard to tell under this light. You've filled out, I notice. You were so skinny all those years ago, not that I minded. I thought you were perfect - now you're even better.

Actually, I did used to mind. You were so slight I worried about your fragility. It's killed me ever since that I wouldn't do what both of us wanted so much - but I felt so huge in comparison, and I felt out of control around you. Once in a nightmare I snapped you like a twig, trying to make love, and it made me so fearful. You misinterpreted my fear, taking it as rejection, and all the kisses in the world couldn't seem to prove to you that I wanted you. And I knew with a sick, sick pain in my belly and a leaden weight in my heart, that when I left, that's what you thought it was about. It wasn't, my God, it wasn't. I hope I get the chance to explain. Tonight I'm going to talk to you, tell you everything. And then...

One thing I didn't expect, though, couldn't have foreseen, was that he'd be here. He still wants you, too, it's all over him. The sheer fucking delight on his face when you were announced was unmissable. And it cut me to the quick that you look almost as delighted as he does. I don't know what may or may not have happened between the two of you after I went away - I only know what happened before. That he was your best friend. Your best friend that kissed you. From the way he's hugging you now, it looks as though rather more than kissing has happened. He has no hesitation in pulling you close and putting his mouth to your cheek, and then your ear as though he's whispering. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. I turn to the wine table, because alcohol helps. With its assistance, I may find a girl here who's half as pretty as you, and half as appealing, and I may get to take her home and keep the lights off.

But the best laid plans, as they say, can go awry. A poor substitute may not end up my solace for the night, because as I face the room again, you're right behind me. Through the dark, the throng and the noise, you've found me.

"Hey."

Oh, God. The years melt away. The look in your eyes shuts the world out, creates our own private space, lures me into your orbit and secures me there.

"Well, well," I answer back, as though my gaze hasn't been pinned to you for the last twenty minutes.

Our smiles say everything, though it's everything with a lot of gaps. Mine doesn't tell of the loneliness, the feeling of wasted years, the frustration. Yours just says you're glad to be here, and glad to see me.

As if at our unspoken command a way appears through the press of people and we take it, you ahead, finding the steps to the foyer, the doors to the street outside. It's a humid night, with a welcome breeze coming from the harbor. I'm a little clammy - you're glistening.

"So - how have things been during the last forever?" you ask flippantly.

"Varied. You?"

"Busy. Quiet." You nod. "This and that happened. All sorts went on. I followed your career in the science papers."

"Some of the articles were probably factual. Depending on which publication you read them in."

"Oh, I only go for the creditable journals. I saw you successfully spliced yak genes with pumpkin so the baby yaks would have orange wool."

"That's true, but someone before me did the same experiment with beets."

"They got purple wool?"

"They got purple pumpkins."

I love your laugh. I loved it years ago and missed it fiercely, and now I have it back, warm while the neons around us are cold.

"It's really good to see you, Bella."

"It's really good to see you, too, but we should probably get back inside. I'm sort of the guest of honor. They'll be sending out a search party."

You're right, and this is your night. I haven't a hope in hell of stopping myself placing my hand gently against your back as we walk towards the door of the bookstore. You don't slide away though. You let me.

Then we're once more in the melee and you're being feted. Your name in lights, your name on two hundred pairs of lips, spoken by two hundred voices. The admiration for you in this room is palpable and I'm so proud of your success. My shy, clever girl, grown into a woman respected in her field and winning acclaim.

You're taken from me by a collection of peers, colleagues and sycophants. Moments later you're on the makeshift stage, accepting a presentation, speaking with assurance and knowledge and graciousness. My heart thuds slowly, slowly, matching my breath. You're a million miles from the sweet gawky child you were when we met yet your enunciation is still hers. So are the little pauses and tiny frowns while you find the right words.

When the speeches are over you're escorted to meet people and receive their congratulations. We all form an orderly line. You're quick now, shaking hands and dispensing thank you's as sincere as they are brief.

He's ahead of me in the line. You smile, hand extended. Both of his hands come up to clasp yours, and he bends down to you. He's very tall, taller than me. You're smiling up as he kisses you on the cheek, and I don't like it. I try to shake off the uneasiness, telling myself that you and I have shared time already this evening that was meaningful and promising. We'll be sharing more than just time later. We'll pick up where we left off all those years ago, following what would have been our natural trajectory. Your place or mine, it's immaterial, we'll be together and unstoppable.

When you're in front of me I kiss you too, ignoring the people on either side of us. My kiss is to your lips, letting you know, and letting everyone know, that I have intentions. Your mouth is soft beneath mine, though you don't let me linger. Your fingers shift in my grip, and I know you know what I'm thinking and feeling.

It's not long after that until the function draw to a close and you come to find me again.

"Edward, I'm so glad you could be here tonight. It's wonderful to see you. You look - well, you look amazing. I'm so pleased your career has been going well."

A warning bell goes off in my head. The way you're saying these things sounds like you're winding up, approaching a goodnight.

"Where are you staying?" I ask. "I could come back with you for a drink. I'd like that. I'd really like to talk to you some more."

But you shake your head, and with a dreadful feeling I realize it's going wrong. Not what I had wished for for tonight at all. He's at your side, proprietary, ignoring my glare.

"Edward, you remember Jake, don't you?" you say.

"Yes."

I sure do, and I remember years ago, as now, I wished he'd fuck the hell off and leave you and I on our own.

"We're married."

And I have nothing further to say. Nothing to think or do. Nowhere to go. I blink stupidly, because this scenario is not something I imagined and I have no idea how to respond. I only envisaged joyous mutual seduction for tonight, and hours of discovery and rediscovery. Unending pleasure and declarations of love, because oh yes, I know with certitude that I love you, and have loved you since we were teenagers.

But not this. Not this.

Jake knew then how I felt about you, and he can see that nothing's changed. But it doesn't matter to him, because I was the idiot back then who left the country, and he was the one who stayed around, and he got a ring on your finger. He shared your nights and your bed; your firsts that would have been mine. I see that I underestimated him - thinking that because he was a year younger than you, and therefore light-years younger, he wouldn't be clever enough to win.

But he did win.

And thus ends my night, and my hopes.

Out on the street I don't know which way to turn, and it doesn't actually matter. All roads lead away from my love - away from you.

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Is anybody reading these? Does anybody like them? Go on, tell me! (pretty please)