Chapter Seven
~Officer and a Gentleman~
Edward and I slide into Bluebell, and I sense I'm buckling up for more than a car ride. Tendrils of fog twist in the air, giving the quiet night a creepy quality. I turn the key, and Bluebell rumbles to life around us.
"Where to?"
Edward smirks. "I'd like to change first. Since there are no phone booths around, perhaps we can stop at the dorms?"
I side eye him. "Funny, Picasso."
His hand joins mine on the shifter, warm and slightly rough. "I like it when you call me that."
My breath hitches, and my heart races. "You love when I stroke . . ." I reach over the console to skim my fingers over his thigh. " . . . your ego, huh?"
Edward hisses, grabbing my hand and holding it against his leg. "You're a bad girl, Bella."
I simply smirk. I'm not feeling particularly bad. In truth, I'm nervous as hell and using my snark to place a protective barrier between us.
I lounge on Edward's futon while he takes a quick shower. The room is much neater than the last time I was here. It makes me smile to think he might have cleaned up for my benefit.
The tap squeaks as it turns off, and my muscles tighten in anticipation. What will he look like tonight? Or should I say who? A strong longing for nicotine surges through me.
Edward pads out of the bathroom barefoot, wearing jeans and a thermal Henley and rubbing a towel over his crazy, ginger hair. When he uncovers his head, I laugh out loud—he looks the part of the mad painter.
Edward snorts. "Gel is this boy's best friend. Be right back."
He emerges from the bathroom a few minutes later, the wild strands of his hair artfully tamed. Edward looks and smells utterly delish, a steamy cloud of aftershave-laden air following him out of the bathroom. I can't help but wonder why he'd ever want to hide his true self from the world.
When we get outside, Edward heads straight for Bluebell.
"Edward, do you have a car?"
"No, I have a piece of crap being held together by sheer luck and a lot of duct tape." He stops walking, cups my face, and kisses me. His hands slide down my arms, and he snatches the keys from me. "You're going to let me drive tonight, right?" His lips brush my ear when he asks this, sending a shiver along my spine.
"Not a chance, Picasso."
"Please?" Leaning back, Edward unleashes the full force of his sultry green eyes, followed by a slight pouting of his bottom lip.
I blink up at him. "Really? You're going to play the boo-boo lip card?"
He steps in closer until our chests are touching and gazes down at me with a lopsided smile. "Is it working?"
"Fine." I grab his face. "But if you hurt my baby, I'll skin you alive."
"Deal."
Edward opens the passenger door for me then jogs around to the driver's side and slides behind the wheel. He wiggles his fingers gleefully above the steering wheel. I'm starting to regret my momentary lapse in judgment, but then he looks at me with the most excited grin. I've never seen Edward's expression so open and unguarded before, and it takes my breath away. How can I deny him after that?
He frowns. "What's wrong?"
"N-nothing. Just be careful."
It's strange being a passenger in my own car. I've never allowed anyone else to drive Bluebell—not even Paul. I buckle in and try not to worry. The sky is still hazy, but the ground fog has lifted. Edward seems like a good driver, handling the car with care.
"So . . . where are we going?" I ask as he eases Bluebell onto the highway.
"This place I love. It's a bit of a dive, but the food is delicious. The owner's a friend, so I'm sure we can get a private table." He glances at me then back at the road. "Hope that's okay. I know it's not the most exciting date . . ."
I lace my fingers with his. "It sounds perfect."
There's a fair amount of traffic tonight. Edward nudges Bluebell slightly above the speed limit, keeping up with the majority of other drivers on the road, but doesn't drive excessively fast. Many cars blow past us, their tail lights rapidly disappearing. That's why we're both surprised when red and blue lights come up behind the car.
"Fuck. Why's he pulling us over?" Edward flicks the signal on and maneuvers onto the shoulder.
"Might be Bluebell. She's a cop magnet."
The police officer leaves us sitting there while he does whatever it is cops do. Maybe the idea is to make us nervous. It's working. I twist my fingers together and take shallow breaths. I've been pulled over plenty of times because of my car, but it never seems to get easier.
Finally, the policeman emerges from his cruiser and saunters over to Bluebell.
Edward rolls the window down. "Evening, officer."
He taps the roof. "License and registration."
My heart flutters, and I sink lower in my seat, longing for a dark hole to crawl into. Maybe the trunk? I recognize the police officer's voice, and now I know why we were pulled over rather than one of the speeders weaving through traffic at ninety miles per hour.
Officer Jacob Black. Paul's best friend.
Fuck me.
Edward pulls out his wallet and hands his license to Jake. I grab the registration from the glove compartment and slide it to Edward. "And here's the registration, officer."
Jake shines his flashlight over them. "These don't match up, Mister . . . Cullen. This your car?"
"No, its—"
I lean over Edward and glare up at Jake. "Oh, for Pete's sake! You knew exactly whose car it was when you pulled us over!"
He shines the flashlight in my face, blinding me. "Have you folks been drinking tonight?"
"No, officer," Edward answers politely though I'm sure by now he's wondering what's happening.
"I'm going to ask you both to step out of the car."
I'm seething. "Really?"
"Bella!" Edward whispers, giving me a look.
"Step around to the passenger side, and keep your hands where I can see them at all times."
Edward complies.
Jake swaggers up behind him in full dress blues. I can't deny Jake cuts a handsome figure from his lean waist to his muscled chest and arms to his boyish, devilishly handsome face. But I know what lurks beneath all those trappings. The asshole lives to give me a hard time.
I lose my shit, wrenching the door open and stomping onto the shoulder. I offer Jake a double bird salute. "Hands where you can see them at all times, right, officer?" I don't even glance at Edward, my gaze focused on the object of my disgust. Cars speed by, shaking the ground beneath my feet. Standing out in the open on a highway makes me nervous.
Jake's face remains impassive, but his eyes spark with amusement. "Ma'am, why don't you walk a straight line for me?"
"But she wasn't driving." Edward protests.
Jake's eyes harden. "Did I address you, sir?" When Edward remains quiet, Jake's attention returns to me. "Walk this white line here. One foot in front of the other."
Rolling my eyes, I do as he asks with ease. "Satisfied?"
"Sassy," he mutters. "Any contraband?"
"No."
"Mind if I search the vehicle, sir?"
"Um . . ." Edward fiddles with his hair and looks at me.
I clench my fists. What is the punishment for assaulting an officer of the law? "Like hell! You want to toss my car? Get a fucking warrant, Jake!"
"Wait, you know each other?" Edward looks between us.
"Surely you don't think I routinely flip off cops? Just the harassing, can't-mind-my-own-business type."
Jake smiles, unleashing his dimples. "Bells, I think your friend might have skid marks in his shorts."
I mimic a phone with my hand. "Jake, your village called."
He laughs. "All right, all right. Look, Paul's a mess. He's been crashing on my couch, putting a crimp in my shit. You gotta take him back."
I cross my arms. "No, I don't."
"You belong together."
"After what he did? Not a chance."
"He said it was a misunderstanding."
I snort out a laugh. "Really? I walked in on him and Leah!"
"They hang out sometimes."
"They weren't hanging out—he was diving in. Paul can try to spin shit any way he likes, but I know what I saw. The two of them were so busy going at it, they didn't even notice me!"
"What?" The expression on Jake's face tells all. He has no idea why Paul and I really broke up. To make matters worse, it's obvious he has a thing for Leah, and Paul has been lying to him about her. Despite Jake's propensity for using his badge to harass me whenever Paul and I are on the outs, I feel sorry for him.
"Shit, Jake. I'm so sorry."
"Are you telling me the truth?" He steps forward as if he's going to grab my arm, but he doesn't, clenching a fist against his muscular thigh instead.
"Yeah!"
"Damn him." Jake stares at the ground, shaking his head. He glances between me and Edward. "Who broke Paul's nose?"
Edward raises a hand. "That was me. He put his hands on Bella."
Jake's eyes widen. "He what?" He turns to me. "Did he hurt you?"
"No. Edward didn't give him a chance to." I grin, thinking about how "Anthony" defended my honor.
"Jesus Christ! I can't believe him! Asshole deserved to get punched out." He rakes a hand through his short, spiky hair. "Listen, Bells, I'm sorry. Paul totally lied to me. Here . . ." He pulls out two PBA cards and hands them to me.
I grin. "Will these work on you?"
"No, because I won't be pulling you over again. Edward, please accept my apology. Have a good night, guys." As he walks away, a colorful string of expletives cuts through the air. He returns to his cruiser and takes off after a legit speeder.
I feel sorry for the poor suckers he pulls over next—they're probably about to experience the full wrath of Jacob Black.
Edward and I get back in the car. He looks at me, opens his mouth, then shakes his head. "Never mind." He eases Bluebell into the flow of traffic when there's a break.
I'm pissed that Jake—and by extension Paul—ruined the beginning of our first date. Edward probably thinks I'm a nut job and is thinking up plausible excuses to distance himself from me.
"Jake is Paul's best friend. He often uses his position as a police officer to harass me when Paul and I are having problems. For some reason, he's never liked me much. Jake always thought I was going to hurt Paul. What a laugh! Guess the joke's on him."
"Sorry you had to go through any of that, Bella. Your ex makes Neanderthals look modern. He's obviously not a very good friend, either."
"Do you want to head home?"
Edward turns his head sharply to stare at me before returning his gaze to the road. "Did that upset you too much to go out? We can order takeout at my place if you want."
"No, no. I just thought . . . you might be rethinking things. Me."
Edward lets out one of those unfettered guffaws I've come to adore. "God, no! You fascinate me. I keep hoping you won't rethink me."
"That's not going to happen—unless I discover you're a mass murderer with bodies hidden all over campus or something."
"The library archives."
"What?"
"That's where the bodies are hidden." Edward winks.
When we arrive at Whitlock's, I immediately fall in love with the small bar and grill with its brick walls, hardwood floors, and dark wood booths and tables. A tiny stage is crammed against one wall like an afterthought, but I suppose it enables them to claim they offer entertainment.
A tall, lanky guy with wavy blond hair works behind the bar, mixing drinks while he chats with customers. The girls to his left say something that makes him throw his head back and laugh, but he never misses a beat as he rests one bottle on the bar and picks up another, pouring a measured shot into the glass before him.
A petite girl with short, dark hair, rocking the highest wedges I've ever seen, breezes past and joins the guy behind the bar. She starts working the other end, chatting easily with the group crowded around.
Edward's hand grazes my lower back, and I realize I've been completely ignoring him to ogle this place. When I turn, he's gazing down at me with a knowing look.
"You've been charmed already. I thought it might take a while."
"This place is awesome. Who are they?" I point at the bartenders.
"The tall one is Jasper Whitlock—the bar's namesake—and the little one is his fiancée, Alice Brandon. Jasper's quite laid back while Alice is a whirling dervish. Sometimes I wonder how a relationship works between them, but it does."
I nod. At that moment, Jasper spots us. "Look who it is!" He grins, sneaking a glance at Alice.
The little nymph on heels nods her dark head. "You just noticed them?" She blinks hard, and I can tell she's suppressing the urge to roll her eyes.
Jasper appears confused. "You already knew Edward was here? What do you mean 'them?'"
Now Alice does roll her eyes. "Yes, his new girlfriend is with him." Mischievous blue eyes fringed with long lashes meet mine. "Welcome, Bella! We've heard a lot about you." She winks.
My mouth rounds into an O, and a flush creeps up Edward's neck.
Alice finishes with her customers and comes out from behind the bar with a menu, beckoning us to follow. "I saved you guys a great table."
Edward looks surprised. "But I didn't tell anyone we were coming."
"Call it intuition."
Jasper laughs loudly. "Don't listen to her, guys! She's been saving that table every night since you told us about Bella."
Alice shoots him a dirty look. "I'll get you for this!"
"And my little dog, too? You promise?" Jasper quips, returning to his chuckling customers.
Alice waves a hand at him and leads us to a booth in a dimly lit corner. We slide into opposite sides, and she hands me the menu.
"What about me?" Edward grins up at her.
"You could recite the dang menu. Bella, it's so nice to finally meet you. I'll be back to take your order in a few." Alice sails off toward the bar.
I smile. "Wow. They really do seem to complement each other."
"They do. And Jasper tends to temper her bodaciousness."
"Is that even a word?" I laugh. "Thanks for bringing me here. It's nice to meet some of your real friends—you know, as opposed to the imaginary variety."
Edward regards me seriously for a moment, but when he sees how relaxed I am, he laughs, too. "Bella . . . I'm so sorry about all of that."
"I'll let you make it up to me." I wink.
Alice comes back to take our orders and is gone again in a flash, returning with our beers and leaving again.
Edward tips his bottle and drinks deeply, his Adam's apple working slowly. I have this insane urge to lean across the table and lick that sexy bump. He notices me staring and stops, mid-sip.
"Is something wrong with your beer? Would you rather have something else?"
"No, it's fine." I slug back some of the brew, my throat burning when I take a little too much at once. A small amount trickles from the corner of my mouth, and I swipe it away with the back of my hand. Very graceful.
Edward stares at my mouth. He doesn't seem to mind my sloppy drinking. He slides his hand across the table, playing the pads of his fingers over the tops of my knuckles. "I'm so glad you're here with me."
"Me, too."
"With me, not with Anthony or the eccentric painter," he clarifies.
I pick at the edge of the damp label on my beer, growing serious. "It would really hurt to lose you. Promise me if there's ever anything else, you'll just tell me."
"I won't lie and say the hard part is over. Social anxiety has been a part of me for a long time. It feels good to be me, but it's not always easy. There are no other secrets to reveal, though. Isn't all this enough?" He grins, but there's a touch of insecurity hidden deep in his eyes.
Our meals arrive, saving me from answering him. Alice sets our plates down and checks to see if we need anything else before walking away. The food is phenomenal. We occupy ourselves eating, digging in with gusto. Guess we're both happy to avoid talking for a while.
My mind isn't so silent; it throws questions and doubts my way. Can social anxiety be serious enough to create two distinct personalities to hide behind, or is that a convenient excuse Edward came up with? He seems sincere. Can I trust him? My heart is on the line, and I don't want it crushed.
When I glance up from my plate, Edward is staring at me with mild panic.
"What?"
"You're having second thoughts."
"No."
"Bella, you're great on stage, but you emanate your inner thoughts." He taps his temple.
"Shit. Sorry." I tangle my fingers with his. "I'm just scared. You seem pretty normal to me, so I'm having a tough time with the persona thing. That probably sounds hypocritical, considering I'm kind of pretending to be someone else, too . . ." I drift off, feeling like an ass.
Edward's thumb brushes gently against the side of my hand, and I focus on it because I'm too embarrassed to face him. "Bella, stop. Whatever you feel is okay. Your concerns matter to me. You're hiding some stuff—lots of people do, for various reasons—but what I'm doing goes way beyond that. It's natural for you to have questions."
I finally look at him and see nothing but concern mirrored back. "You're not disappointed in me? You don't think I'm shallow?"
"Of course not! Social anxiety is one of those dirty little secrets nobody likes to talk about. If you're interested, there's a fantastic website dedicated to it."
"I'd love to see it." The knot in my chest loosens. "Maybe you can tell me about your situation?"
"Sure."
It's hard to eat a burger with one hand, but I do because I don't want to let go of Edward. He doesn't seem to mind.
"My life is an open book for you. Fire away."
"Okay . . . how did your social anxiety start?"
"As a child, I was very awkward. My head was too big, and I had large feet that always seemed to get in the way. My ears stuck out really bad, and I had buck teeth . . ." Edward falters, swallowing hard, his eyes sliding to the side.
"Did kids tease you?" I ask softly.
"Sometimes, but . . . the problem was my father. He was unbelievably handsome. Women were always swooning over him. Dad was a schmoozer, ran a huge law firm, and the social scene was very important to him. I—I was an embarrassment."
"What? No!"
"Yes, Bella. Maybe it wasn't fair, but he wanted his son to be a mini clone of him—good looking, charming, and perfect. I was none of those things. I tripped on stuff and spoke awkwardly. His disdain for me was painfully obvious. My mother tried her best to counteract the damage."
Edward's expression is open and earnest. I'm horrified his father would treat him that way.
"That's one of the most awful things I've ever heard." Tears sting my eyes.
Edward reaches across the table to caress my cheek. "It only got worse over time. My father exploded when I was thirteen, screaming and yelling about what a disgrace and a failure I was to him. He wanted to send me away to boarding school. Mum couldn't take it another moment and chose to leap the pond. We moved to the United States and stayed with Aunt Elsa—your boss. But the damage was already done. Every time I tried to move on, I heard his voice in my head, telling me what a talentless loser I was. I still hear him, Bella. Not as loudly, but he's always there, like the proverbial devil on my shoulder."
"Oh, Edward." My heart breaks into a million pieces, and I have the sudden urge to hunt his father down and kick him in the balls. "Your mother did a good thing when she removed you from his influence."
"Do you understand why I need to be different people? I'd never muster up the courage to show off my art or go into acting, otherwise. Anthony Masen is more than a stage name for me—he allows me certain freedoms away from the influence of my father's poisonous voice."
"Thank you for trusting me with your past. I can't imagine how painful it's been for you. It took so much courage to push through it."
"I'm still pushing through."
Shame heats my face. "I'm such a coward compared to you."
"Don't say that. You're going to face your father bravely and become the woman you're meant to be. All life experiences help shape who we are—it's what we do with them that matters. And now, I'd love it if you'd dance with me."
"Dance?" I glance around Whitlock's at the tightly packed tables. "Where?"
"There's a jukebox through there." Edward points to a doorway at the rear of the dining room. He stands and offers his hand. "May I?"
I accept, allowing him to lead me through the entrance. The small room consists of a few battered chairs, a pool table, and a jukebox. Edward feeds the glowing machine a few coins and chooses some songs.
When he pulls me into his arms, his eyes exude a quiet confidence. He holds me close and tight, our bodies molding together. I rest my head on his shoulder and enjoy rocking with him.
"Bella," he calls softly after two songs have gone by.
I lift my head, and the heat in his heavy-lidded gaze causes a liquid warmth to spread through my being.
Edward nudges my chin up, bringing his lips down to meet mine in soft, barely-there kisses, quickly progressing to deep, probing ones that set me on fire and short-circuit my senses. We remain this way, in the back room of Whitlock's, swaying to the music and making out. When we part an hour later, the loss smarts as if being pried away from a vital part of myself.
I think Edward feels the same way. Though he doesn't say it, he never completely lets go of me even as he drives Bluebell back to the dorms. He comes around to my side and helps me out, tugging me against him.
"Stay with me?" he whispers, kissing a tingling trail along my jaw that ends with my sensitive earlobe between his soft lips.
I don't know if Edward's requesting to hold me or make love to me. I only know I've never felt so breathless or excited or reluctant to be away from another human being.
"Yes."
~*TMWW*~
A/N: I'd stay with him. You? Thanks for reading! Sorry for the delay between chapters. Holidays. Life.
Thanks to my awesome prereaders, Keye, Sandy, and Aleea, and my super word-detangling beta, SassySue (chayasara).
Follow me on Twitter: at SaritaDreaming or at SarahAisling
Fanfiction blog: saritadreaming dot word press dot com
