I do not own Twilight
Chapter 7
BPOV
"Here, hold this against you eye. Jeez, I can't believe how fast it swelled," I say, handing Edward a wrapped, banana Twin Pop to hold against the baseball-sized knot on his face. I forgot we had used the entire bag of ice for our day in the sun, so I had to improvise.
Needless to say, our evening thus far has been quite eventful, especially when that big ape accused Edward of boinking his sister. And no one—at least not Rose or I—anticipated the attack that immediately followed said accusation. Whether or not it's true really doesn't matter, I guess. Can I really fault Edward for sewing his wild oats? He is a guy, after all.
I imagine he finds opportunities for random coitus on a daily basis. Hell, he's handsome enough and single, too, from what I can tell. So he enjoys casual sex. Maybe it's his thing. At least, it confirms his heterosexuality, which I was feeling dubious about before that Felix guy knocked him silly.
Edward places the impromptu ice pack on his face with a hiss. Wincing, he looks at me with his one, good eye. "I'm really sorry you had to witness that. I feel like such an asshole."
I merely shrug my shoulders. He certainly doesn't have to apologize or explain anything to me. "Does that happen often?" I ask with a smirk.
"No! God, no. I don't normally do stuff like that—hook up with strange girls, I mean. Well, not that often. I'm not really into sex like that," he says, and then backpedals when I cock an eyebrow. "Don't get me wrong; I mean, I love sex . . . you know, with women."
I smile and pour myself a glass of wine. "Yes, I do know that now," I say, grabbing a bottle of water for Edward.
"Jesus, I'm an idiot," he mumbles to himself. "What I mean is . . . sometimes, I let myself get influenced by the, uh . . . wrong people." His narrowed eyes slide to Emmett, who's seated in the living room with Rose.
"Not my fault," Emmett calls back without taking his attention from the deck of cards he unearthed from God-knows-where.
Edward sighs, blowing a wayward strand of bronze hair out of his vision. "I guess that makes me sound like some kind of jerk who can't think for himself, but I swear, I'm not. I don't know; I just always seem to find myself in the most heinous of situations when we go out, know what I mean?" he asks and then shakes his head, muttering that I couldn't possibly know what he means.
I stare into the living room at Rosalie from our station at the kitchen counter, watching her pour shots of something dangerous for Emmett and herself. As she inches closer and closer to him on the couch, I think of all the terrible nights I've had because of that girl, all the trouble we've been in.
"I think I know exactly what you're talking about."
Minus the billions of one-night-stands, of course.
Now that we're somewhat situated—Edward with his Twin Pop and bottle of water and me with my wine—we head into the living room to join Rose and Emmett around the large coffee table. Rosalie has taken the cards from Em and is shuffling them like a pro.
"Can you believe these two?" she asks, glancing at Emmett. "Blaming us for their own bad luck. Just saying."
"Well, you do happen to be the reason for ninety percent of it," I tell her with a wry smile. "Just saying."
Emmett scoffs. "I don't believe that for a second," he says, encouraging Rose to flip me off for good measure. "And Edward is a big boy. He's perfectly capable of making his own decisions."
Edward removes the popsicle to give Emmett a clear view of the destruction. "Yeah, you think I'd have learned that by now."
"Ditto," I say, and Edward and I share a smile.
"Ooh, Bella, look what Emmett brought over!" Rose says, holding up what I gather is a joint.
"Fucking seriously, Emmett?" Edward is incredulous. In fact, he looks about ready to pounce.
The eye roll Emmett gives him in return tells me this is an ongoing source of contention between them, and the last thing I want is another fight.
"Hey, it's all right. No biggie," I say, hoping to plug the hole. "Honestly, I haven't even seen marijuana since high school, but whatever. It's all good."
Rose squeals. "Exactly. Why the hell not, right?" she asks, lighting the end of the thing with a green Bic.
"Fucking fabulous," Edward mutters more to himself than anyone else, though he's still glaring at Emmett.
Emmett ignores him and announces that we'll be playing Black Jack for pennies. After the rules have been thoroughly explained to me, Rose and I gather all the loose change between us, divide it up, and we begin. By the second round, I've already found my groove, and the more times that joint makes its way around the circle, the more I begin to relax in the company of the guys.
Actually, I'm having a great time. I think we all are, even Edward. Despite his battle wound and his reservations about recreational drug use, he's talking and laughing, trading playful insults with his buddy. I like these boys a lot. Emmett and Edward are easy to be around. There are no uncomfortable stretches of silence or awkward lags in conversation. Hanging out with them feels natural, as if we've been doing it all along.
Our aimless topics of conversation range from anything to everything. From travel to movies to breakfast cereal and beyond, we don't delve too deeply into any one thing or spend too much time on any given subject.
I kind of dig it.
While I'd love to know every little thing there is to know about Edward Cullen, this feels right for our situation. After all, we're virtual strangers who just so happen to be sharing a property line for the duration of our stay. We have a week and a half left here in paradise, and when our ten days are up, we'll never see Edward or Emmett again. Rose and I will head home, and the guys will carry on with their own walks of life.
This will all be nothing more than a very pleasant memory.
I'm not the only one who's noticed the lack of information being divulged. Everyone else has picked up on it as well, so we officially decide to make it our thing. The four of us will spend our time together as we see fit, but we'll share no specifics—nothing too personal. As a group, we agree it just isn't necessary.
For instance, as far as background information goes, we know Edward and Emmett are from the Midwest, have just graduated college, and will be starting medical school in the fall. Likewise, the guys know Rosalie and I are from the West Coast and that we'll be starting grad school this year, but there's no mention of hometowns—no universities or alma matters.
Easy breezy.
Because who really cares about that junk, anyway? Actually, the ambiguity is kind of liberating. It leaves so much to the imagination, and I find the air of mystery surrounding this group of random twenty-somethings from different walks of life to be rather . . . titillating.
We're also super stoned, so there's that.
By the end of the night, I'm getting pretty good at this whole gambling thing, and when I flip my cards over to reveal yet another perfect Black Jack, everyone groans. Well, everyone but Edward. He gives me a fist bump, instead.
I think I really like him, despite his vast collection of bed buddies.
"Seriously? That's like four times now!" Emmett says, standing up and slapping his cards on the table. "I'm done. You cleaned me out, Bells."
I smile up at him in triumph. No one but my dad has called me anything but Bella or Isabella since grade school, and I like the way it feels. It's like we're old pals.
"Don't get too upset, Em; it was their money to begin with," Edward says, gathering the cards and straightening the deck. Instead of dealing again, he slides them into the box, and no one protests. "Shit, is it really three in the morning?"
"No, way!" Rose says, grabbing Emmett's muscly arm to check the watch on his wrist.
Another signature move . . .
I drain my last glass of wine and stand up, stretching my back. "It feels like we just got back from the bar. Do you guys want something to eat?" I ask, but I can hardly keep my eyes open. I didn't realize how tired I was until I actually stopped to think about it.
Edward smiles at me, his swollen eye already starting to bruise. He's going to feel like shit tomorrow.
I should bring him some Advil in the morning.
"No, but thank you. I think we've ruined enough of your evening so far. We should get out of here so you can get some sleep. You look like you could fall asleep standing up," he says, placing a hand on my elbow to keep me steady when I begin to sway.
"Yeah, I probably could," I say with a sleepy smile. We both look across the room to see Emmett and Rose standing at the sliding glass door. They're only inches apart, and though their goodbye appears PG, Rose's expression is nothing short of wanton.
Edward looks at me again, and we both blush and stare at our shoes. "Well, thanks for everything—for taking care of me and being so cool about what happened earlier. Again, I'm so sorry you—"
I put a hand on his chest to stop him. "I'm glad we got a chance to hang out tonight. I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other soon," I say, glancing at Rose and Emmett, who are just parting ways. Wow, and no kiss, either. She must really like him.
"I hope so," he says, blushing anew. "Okay, well, sleep tight, Bella."
And with that, Edward turns and walks out of our bungalow, my heart trailing lazily behind him.
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Thanks for reading! And thank you for all the love and support you've shown me. I created a banner for the story, which some of you may have seen on Fran's FB page. Isn't Emmett just yummy? Someday, I'll create my own page so I can join in on all the fandom fun.
Huge hugs to Fran for betaing this thing. I hope your own upcoming vacation is nothing short of wonderful :)
Have a fabulous weekend, everyone! See you next time!
XOXO,
AshesAshes
