Edward.
"Bella?" I breathed, uncertainly.
I was well aware that my brain was not functioning, as I waited for her response. I was even beginning to believe that my own mind was playing tricks on me. Bella, the woman who I had just been ardently torturing myself over for the past many hours, had called me? Was it really her? And if so, what did she want?
At that thought, my mind wandered over the possibility that she could have called to fire me. Could you really do that over the phone? Even so, It wouldn't be unexpected. It took everything I had to not hang up on her at the moment– – to delay the end of our almost non-existent relationship.
'Don't assume,' I repeatedly reminded myself, holding on to the last strand of hope that I had left– – which wasn't, ironically, very long to begin with. This sudden call didn't necessarily have to be the thing that would put a hold to my current career, and an end to the relationship with the first woman I had ever felt anything real for. To the first woman who I had ever seriously liked so much.
"Cullen," Bella's voice sounded, "we need to talk." Shit. I wanted nothing more than to just to snap the phone shut, and– – like a child– – ignore her for as long as I could. Everyone knew that when a person said this to the person they were dating, it was basically the precedent to "Let's break up". And, in our case, it was the prelude to, "You're fired". It was all the same to me.
"About what?" I asked, innocently, trying to be coy.
Bella sighed from the other line, over what I assumed was impatience, and continued, "Let's meet up."
Okay… so it would be a face-to-face break-up, after all. Great.
"Where and when?" I couldn't help but ask, all the while my strand of hope was diminishing before my very eyes.
"Um…how about over dinner?"
I felt my eyes probe open wide, and my eyebrows pulled together involuntarily. Over dinner? Couldn't her office suffice?
My thoughts drifted back to last night, on the cow-intestine incident, and I raised an eyebrow. Payback?
"Sure?" My hesitation turned my consent into a question.
"Alright, then. What do you say to the Giovanni's by the port?"
I frowned at the sudden feeling of De ja vu, at the mention of that restaurant.
"Sure."
"I'll be there at seven," Bella promised, before her line was disconnected.
It wasn't until the phone began to beep, when I finally shut the cell closed. I jumped back into my bed, and tossed the small, black object onto the couch across the room.
Like a video cassette, I thought back to the phone call, mentally rewinding mine and Bella's previous conversation. It had been extremely blunt, and right to the point. Bella called, said the four most tragic and assuming words possible, asked to meet me for dinner, and then hung up. Though the call itself had been short– – no more than a measly three minutes– – it had such an extreme impact on me, that I was seriously feeling nervous.
I didn't understand why she insisted on "talking"– – I nearly rolled my eyes– – at a restaurant, instead of the privacy of her office. Was she frightened that I would blow my top, and might even harm her, if we were alone while she fired me? I scowled at the thought.
Sighing, I buried my face back into my pillow, and continued to think. I didn't understand her tone, either. Bella sounded slightly… nervous, and I couldn't help but think back to my initial supposition of harming her. Even without proof of this being the case, I started to get angry. Could she have really thought that? It was no lie that I didn't have the best personality, or anything close to one, but I would never lay a hand on a woman.
I shook my head furiously, trying to push away the thought, and then plopped up from my bed. Dragging my feet, I walked across the room, towards the plump, black loveseat couch, and retrieved my phone from between two cushions.
Sighing once again, I flipped open the phone and began dialing Emmett's phone number. He would be disappointed, but I would have to cancel our arrangements. On Emmett, and on Tanya, as well.
Bella.
I, Isabella Marie Swan, was a complete and total idiot.
Burying my head into my hands, I sighed heavily, thinking over the short conversation that Cullen and I just had.
What, in Gods name, was wrong with me?
It had taken everything I had to call Cullen– – literally.
After I had left my apartment, I drove to work completely lost in thought. When I thought of what the bastard put me through last night, I wanted nothing more than to just fire him– – rid my hands of anything and everything related to him. It would have been so easy; I was sure that the president, Mr. Hale, would agree to my withdrawal from our "deal", if he knew the circumstances in which he put me under. If worse came to worse, I would just threaten to leave the agency. I was one of the most prominent managers of the company, and there was no doubt that Twilight Runway wouldn't be the same if I left. I had an eye for raw talent, and many personal and advantageous connections, that I prided myself on. Though the means were dirty, Mr. Hale would have to abide by my request. He had no reason not to; I simply didn't deserve the vexatious treatment that I had been enduring since Cullen was assigned to me.
It would have been so easy– – and even so, I still didn't do it. Or, more that I was unable to.
For some odd reason, I was just incapable of rejecting Cullen, and I had an intuitive feeling that I just didn't want Cullen to leave.
When I had finally arrived at work, and locked myself in my office, all I could even think about was the galling ache I felt when I thought of Cullen leaving Twilight Runway. Of him going to another agency. Of him being assigned to someone else.
'But it's only because he's too gorgeous to let someone else manage him,' I told myself, sternly. Really, what other reason could I have to keep him? Though he was san obnoxious jerk, he was far too beautiful to allow him to slip away. I would wait until his first gig, which now stood less than two days away, to witness how he fared. Whether or not he continues as my model for the remaining two and a half months would depend on his results.
I almost felt guilty about that. Cullen was a complete amateur; He hadn't even participated in modeling classes yet, and here I was basing his career on his first photo shoot. It wasn't as if he could flawlessly accomplish a perfect job all at once, and especially not at his first shoot. Even Jacob struggled at first. Of course, temper-wise, Jake was much easier to handle.
I had finished up all of my paperwork and phone calls half-heartedly, and, before I could put it off any longer, decided to call Cullen. I would give him one last chance, and that was it. That was all I could tolerate.
I dialed his number from my cell, and sighed deeply. Why I had been so nervous over a mere phone call, was beyond me. Even when I tried to calm myself, my fingers still continued to thrum impatiently on my desk– – my nails causing a loud clank sound.
When the ringing finally came to a stop, I was completely taken aback at the sound of someone snapping, "What is it now, Emmett?"
Who the hell was Emmett?
Under normal circumstances, I would have hung up in assumption that I had dialed the wrong number. I would have, if I had not known that it was Cullen. There was no way I would ever be able to mistake his perfect, velvet voice. Though it was edged with annoyance, it was still so beautiful– – just like him. Even when angered, Cullen sounded disbelievingly sexy. His laughter could only be related to musical wind chimes, and his chuckles were feathery-light sounds of bells. My thoughts traveled back to the last night, when we were in the car… and the way he breathed my name in my ear…was so….
I made an inward gasp, as I returned to reality, and shook my head feverently. What was I thinking? Or beginning to think, for that matter?
Forcing myself to speak, I was only able to voice out three short words; "Cullen– " my heart almost thumped at the name, "– – it's Bella."
There was a long pause, until Cullen's voice sounded my name in obvious incredulity, "Bella?"
I almost pinched myself when I compulsorily smiled at the way he breathed my name.
"Cullen, we need to talk." I said. I almost laughed aloud at how much it sounded like an obvious break-up starter.
"About what?" I actually frowned at his question. He sounded so innocent, as if there could be no possible reason for me calling him, that I wanted to snap right then and there, 'About you being removed from my care'. I wanted to, but, naturally, I didn't. I couldn't.
"Let's meet up." I suggested. It was better than talking over the phone.
"Where?" 'At my office, obviously,' is what I should have said– – what I wanted to say– – but my mouth had other idea's, and my reply almost knocked me off my chair.
"How about over dinner?" As the words flew out my mouth, I wanted to pull my hair in aggravation. What did having dinner have to do with anything? It wasn't needed! It would be much better to speak in the privacy of my own office, instead of some restaurant that would be overpopulated with people and crowded with surveying witnesses, in the presumption that Cullen make any irksome comments, and I would impulsively hit him.
What had surprised me most of all, was my suggestion to his agreement, "Alright, then. What do you say to Giovanni's by the Port?"
There was another pause, until Cullen consented. I quickly told him what time to meet me, and then hung up quickly, before I could say something else that I was sure to regret.
Gripping the phone tightly, I sighed again. When I thought back on the conversation, it sounded as if I were going to break up with him in the beginning, and then ended with me sounding like I was asking him out. Just wonderful. Not only were both of these coincidences implying, but there were dead wrong, as well. You can't end something that never was, and you cant start something that could never be.
Not that I wanted anything, of course.
I stared down at the phone that was suffocating in my tight grip, and snapped it open. In less than a five seconds, I had already inputted the number of the person who I was going to call; Jacob.
I pressed talk, and brought the phone up to my ear, pulling the strands of loose hair that hung to the side of my face out of the way, and behind my ear. If I was going to have dinner with Cullen tonight, then I would have to tell Jacob that I couldn't meet him. It was for work, after all– – there was nothing I could do about it.
"Hello?" Jakes' voice sounded from the other line.
I bit my lip consciously, before answering him– – feeling completely guilty, and not for the reasons that I should have.
"It's Bella, Jake."
I felt guilty. Severely guilty. And it was because, in all honesty, I didn't feel very guilty for cancelling on him.
It was exactly 6:30 p.m. when I finally reached Giovanni's. The drive itself was short– – less than 45 minutes, but would have, undoubtedly, been much shorter if I had not driven like a turtle, while completely lost in thought. That, and if I hadn't been stuck in traffic for over fifteen long minutes.
I parked the car across the street from the wide, elegant restaurant, and scanned the small amount of people that flooded the area before the restaurant's doors.
Cullen was nowhere in sight.
Before I could get annoyed at him for making me wait, I had to remind myself that it was I who was a half-hour early. Regardless, I was freezing cold. Though the stupid weatherman had assured everyone in freaking Seattle that tonight would reach a cool temperature of 55 degrees Fahrenheit, it was still bizarrely nippy. Even my teeth were chattering! I wrapped my arms over my chest, mentally cursing myself for not bringing a sweater, and leaned against the side of my car. I could have sat in my car, in the comfort of the heaters' warmth, but I chose not to– – for fear that my thoughts would reel completely out of control, as it so often did. In the end, I decided that I would rather brave the cold, than to let my thoughts obsess over Cullen. The cold was preferable, in comparison.
Despite the fact that my mind had been completely elsewhere today, I somehow managed to finish up all of the day's work early. By the time I had finally made it home, it was already nearing 6:00 p.m. I dressed quickly; slipping on something as common a pair of white jeans, and a dark blue turtle neck. I had pulled my hair into a tidy, low-tied pony tail, and applied nothing more than lip-gloss on, from the make-up department. I had already started to feel better.
Jeans were, by far, the most comfortable thing to wear– – aside from sweats. And since the restaurant itself was "normal", I didn't have to dress up in anything that I did not like. Besides, I always felt more confident, or as much as I could be, when I wore clothes to my liking.
With a pair of small silver hoops, a thin necklace with a white crimson hanging on the bottom, and a pair of black dress flats– – I felt almost great. I would have felt much better, however, if I hadn't been an idiot and forgotten, once again, to bring a sweater.
Shivering again, I bit my bottom lip to prevent my teeth from chattering, and glanced down at the thin, silver watch on my left hand. It read 6:40 p.m.. Wonderful.
A silver car suddenly pulled up in front of me, and its parking lights flashed on. I turned my head and noticed that the red car that had previously been parked behind my grey Prius, was gone. In the next instant, the silver one had taken its place.
I couldn't help but marvel at the silver Volvo that stood only feet from where I was. I wasn't a total car freak, but I did have my share of knowledge of cars, as well a slight interest in them.
The Volvo itself was beautiful; With a shiny exterior, and stainless, tinted windows. There was no sign of even a slight blemish on the car, and the tires looked to be brand new. Whoever drove that thing must have either just recently purchased it, or took care of it with care equivalently suited to that of a child.
When the door of the silver car suddenly flew open, I quickly turned my head away from it, hoping that the driver didn't notice my blatant staring.
"Bella?" A velvet voice called.
My head shot up, and in the direction of the sound. I had to purse my lips together so that my mouth wouldn't drop open, at the sight of Cullen closing the door of the same silver car that I had been so shamelessly staring at. It was simply ironic. Leave it to God to let the same car that I had been ogling, belong to the same guy who I constantly ogled on many occasions.
"Hi, Cullen," I responded, not daring for the blush of me, to look up into Cullen's eyes as he came walking over, "shall we go then?"
Without looking up at him, I started walking towards the front of the restaurant. I was certain , despite the warmth that I felt on my face, that I would turn to ice if I continued to stand outside for even another minute. When I was nearly a few feet from the restaurant's doors, a sudden burst of brisk wind gushed at me, and I froze involuntarily. Before anything, I heard myself gasp from the 'impact' of the wind against my thin clothes, and my body started to tremble uncontrollably. That is, until something warm suddenly fell over my shoulders.
I stared down at the tanned cloth that enveloped me, and turned my face towards the person who had put it on me.
Cullen.
"I can't," I felt like a complete idiot. Though it had only been on my shoulders for less that a minute, I had already started to get warm. But I couldn't leave Cullen without a jacket, either. It was freezing… and I would only feel guilty for it, "you're cold, too."
For the first time since he arrived, I looked into his eyes– – and Gosh, I wish I hadn't. His eyes were smoldering me completely. I was being dazzled.
I couldn't look away.
My breath was caught in my throat, and my heart began to pound against my chest. Why was he so beautiful? I couldn't take my eyes off of him. If I hadn't known better, I would have figured that the being before me was nothing less of than a God.
His cheeks were slightly pink from the cold, and his usual messy hair was even more disheveled, due to the Ambient winds that bitterly encircled us. My eyes, though slightly reluctant, left his face, and wandered down his body. Even in normal clothes, Cullen looked utterly erotic! He wore a black long sleeved, V-neck fleece shirt, and light blue jeans that stopped just below his knees– – having been pulled into a pair of long black boots. Everything fit his body perfectly. The thin sweater was tight against his figure, and it complimented his curves beautifully. It should really be illegal for people to look so good.
After I finished marveling his body, my eyes– – once again– – made it to his perfect face. To his perfect eyes.
They were a brighter color today; closer to green than its usual hazel sheen.
I knew I should have looked away. It was inappropriate and, suggestively, improper for me to "check out" my model. It was wrong, but I couldn't tear my eyes from the beauty of him. And, to be quite honest, I didn't want to.
"Bella?" Cullen's voice broke through the spell that his eyes had cast on me, and I blinked repeatedly, trying to return to the world.
What had I been saying again?
I looked back down at the tan jacket that was wrapped over my shoulders, and nodded in realization. The jacket. Couldn't wear it. Right.
"Sorry, I was out of it," I muttered, slowly pulling the jacket off me.
Before it was even removed an inch from my body, I felt Cullen's hands over my own. I shuddered at the perturbing sweet contact.
"Don't be hard headed," his voice was smooth. Cullen returned the soft material to the place it originally was– – over my shoulders– – and continued, "You're freezing."
I scrunched my eyebrows together, "You must be freezing, too!"
Cullen let out a slightly reserved chuckle, and shook his head, "Not at all."
From the pink blush on his cheeks, I didn't believe him at all. I scrutinized his face, looking for any traces or hints of him lying, but sighed when I found none, other than the sudden rosy shade of his complexion.
"Fine," I muttered. My tone was reluctant, but my true feelings thought otherwise.
A small smirk crossed over Cullen's face, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes at him. Cocky brat….
Cullen and I walked into the restaurant, and decided on a seat farthest to the back. We needed privacy, or as much as we could get, anyways, at such a bustling place.
The restaurant itself was just as I remembered it from my high school days. Though I had only been there once, with my two high school friends– – Angela Webber and Jessica Stanley– – It still looked exactly the same; that, I was sure of.
It was the simplicity of it that made me like it so much. It looked like one of the many diners I visited in Italy a year ago, however, never overstepped it's classy boundaries. The service, too, were exquisite, and the dishes were even better.
"Did you have trouble finding this place?" I asked, as we were seated.
The restaurant wasn't particularly cold, but I was still feeling chilled from my previous endeavor with the brisk winds outside. I slipped my arms into the sleeves of the jacket, and tugged the font of it closer to my chest.
It was large, but it still seemed as if it fit perfectly. That, and it smelled simply wonderful. I made a mental note to find out what brand of cologne he used.
"No, I've been here a few times with my brother and his friends."
"Oh?" I inquired, curiously, "Brother?"
Cullen nodded, but didn't look up from his entwining fingers, "Yeah. I have an older half-brother."
I suddenly recalled the previous phone call with Cullen, and I couldn't stop myself from blurting out, "Is his name Emmett?"
Cullen's eyes opened wide, and his head shot up. His expression was clouded in pure surprise, and I couldn't help but laugh.
"How do you know his name?" So I was right. That was his brother.
"Earlier today… on the phone… you thought I was Emmett. It was just an assumption, on my part."
Edward continued to look at me curiously, and then he suddenly smiled.
I hated that smile. It was breathtaking.
"Yeah, that's him. I was kind of annoyed, and I figured it was him since he had called me right before you did. Sorry about that."
I shook my head, as if to tell him that there was no harm done, and continued, "Half brother?"
Edward nodded, and I was almost impressed by the levity of our current conversation. We were straying so far from our meetings intention, but I couldn't help but feel a bit grateful for it. To be honest, I didn't know how to tell him what I wanted to. "Cullen, you're a complete jerk and all, but I decided to give you another chance since you're so unbelievable hot that it's not even funny. Don't mess up this time, okay?" Yeah, that sounded fantastic.
"Mm," he confided, "my father remarried when I was young."
I shouldn't have asked, it was rude of me to probe, but the words were out before I could even stop them, "What happened to your mother?"
Cullen looked completely taken aback by my question, and I immediately regretted asking it.
I pressed my lips tightly together, and mentally scolded myself. Why did I ask such an obviously personal question? Was Cullen mad at me now? He had behaved like a perfect gentleman this whole time, and I just had to go and ruin it.
"She died when I was still a child."
I looked up at him, astonished that he had actually answered my question.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled, mentally kicking myself.
"No, it's alright. I love my new mother."
There was no hint of sadness in Edward's tone at all, and I couldn't help but return his smile. He truly did love her.
Before we could say anything else, we were abruptly brought back from our conversation by a females voice.
"Hello," I looked up to see a very pretty blonde woman, with large blue eyes, holding two thick menu's in her arms, "my name is Anne, and I will be your waitress for tonight."
She placed my menu in front of me, before handing Cullen his.
"I already know what I want," Cullen suddenly said. He then looked at me, as if asking if I, too, were ready, and turned to the waitress when I nodded, "We'll be ordering now, then."
Seeing his face for the first time, the woman's eyes opened to a whole other level. A smile suddenly lit up her face, and I was unsure if it was intentional or not.
"Ahem," I cleared my throat in an attempt to gain her attention away from the beautiful object of it.
As if realizing that she had been staring, the woman blushed furiously, and hurriedly grabbed the two menus from the table, before pulling out a note book and a pen, "What will you be having?"
She had a talent for sounding meek, at least.
"I'll be having an order of Penne a la Karen, with a Stromboli on the side." She jotted down my order quickly, and then turned her attention back to Cullen.
"And you, sir?" I noticed the slight flirtatious edge to her voice, and scowled.
"Chicken parmesan over pasta, with Alfredo sauce on the side. I would also like a small garden salad, without croutons, and with Caesar dressing, instead of French."
She nodded slowly, and then smiled a brilliant smile, before leaving to register out orders.
I took back everything I said about this place having good service.
"Is there something wrong?" Cullen suddenly asked, a smirk on his face.
Realizing that I probably still wore an ugly expression, I tried to calm myself, and hoped that my face, too, had relaxed.
"No, nothing," I started leaning back into the soft chair. It was now or never. The conversation had already digressed too far. This wasn't a date– – my lips twitched at the corners– – and I couldn't let it play out as one, "Cullen, let's get back to our reason for meeting here."
Cullen's smirk vanished from his face in an instant, and his hands tightened on the edge of the table.
"Last night was… well, completely horrible," Cullen was staring at me so intensely, it was almost hard for me to speak. Almost. "Your behavior and attitude towards me was completely uncalled for. It cannot be held against me for wanting to remove you from my management."
His eyes hardened, and I continued, "Even with the events that took place yesterday, I, however, decided to permit you one final chance."
Before his expression had a chance to fully change, I added, "I think you will make a good model. You certainly have the looks, but your personality, however…" A large smile spread across Cullen's face, and I had to refrain from smiling along with him. His grins were so absurdly infectious, "There will be conditions, however."
Cullen took no time to ask, "What conditions?"Good. He was eager. "You still have a photo shoot with 'Spell' in two days. The results of that gig will be your evaluation. If you are able to handle that shoot, and if you change that irritating character of yours, then I will disregard yesterday completely, and will continue to manage you." For the remainder of the two and a half months, anyways.
I wasn't surprised to see that Cullen's impervious smile didn't falter in the least. Confident bastard….
"Bella," I looked up at the sound of my name being called. Cullen was leaning towards me dangerously close, and I felt myself gulp, "Thank you."
It took everything I had just to breathe. It took even more to retort, "Don't thank me yet. This is your last chance, so don't screw it up, alright?"
Cullen nodded, clearly not despondent, and sat back into his seat.
I was finally able to breathe.
The remainder of the night was, if anything, extremely fun. We talked a lot, about random things. I found out that his father was a doctor, and his step mother, Esme, was an interior designer. He told me about his brother, Emmett, and his girlfriend, Rosalie, who I found out was the daughter of the president of Twilight Runway– – small world, huh? I also found out that Cullen, to my surprise and– – admittedly, great pleasure– – could play the piano.
"I started playing when I was three," he had told me, when the stupid waitress finally left us alone to eat, "and ever since, I've absolutely loved it."
When I had asked him why he didn't become a pianist or something, he simply shrugged, and said, " It's not something that I would want to be paid for. I play only for my own self interest. It's a hobby of sorts, and I don't intend take it very far."
I couldn't help but feel that it was such a waste. Playing the piano was no easy task. I would know– – I quit lessons only after a week having started them. It was difficult, time consuming, and painstakingly boring. I wondered if Cullen was able to play good. And those thoughts led to the mental question of why he decided to become a model? I, however, decided not to ask that.
When he had finally had enough of discussing himself, we began talking about me. We followed the same routine; he asked questions and I answered them. He wanted to know about my parents, Renee and Charlie, and where they lived. I told him that they both lived in Forks, and that my father was the Chief of Police of that town, and my mother was a freelance writer. I told him about my childhood, and how unbelievably clumsy I had been, even as a child. That brought on a whole new conversation of accidents that happened to me when I still lived in Forks.
"I once fell off a cliff down at La Push reservation in Forks," I told him, confidently, "and straight into the ocean nearly 100 feet down below." Cullen's eyes had opened so wide, that I was sure that they would have popped open at any moment.
I admitted, to my great embarrassment, that I spent the majority of my childhood in the hospital.
"Two broken legs, a broken wrist and ankle, a broken toe, four broken fingers and a fist," I boasted about my most painful past accidents as if I were proud of them, "a dislocated shoulder, and some major burns, twists, sprains ands bruises. I'm grateful that I'm even alive."
With each broken piece of my body mentioned, Cullen would consciously wince. I enjoyed watching his expression. They were classic!
"How about you?" I asked him, when our empty plates were taken away by Anne, and our desert was delivered to us, "You don't seem like the clumsy type, but every kid's had their share of incidents."
Cullen chuckled at my question, and answered, "Yeah. Only once, though."
I was surprised that he'd only been in an accident once. Was that even possible? It certainly wasn't, for me., anyway.
"When I was around ten… my brother and I made a bet on who could climb one of the trees in our backyard, faster."
I had to clamp my mouth shut so that I wouldn't laugh. I knew exactly where this was headed.
"When I finally reached the very top, I startled a bird that was nesting on the tip of the tree, and it suddenly started flying around my head. The next thing I remembered was that I was in the hospital, completely aching all over. The bushes helped cushion my fall, but I still somehow managed to break my leg. All of that didn't matter, of course. I was far to smug over the fact that Emmett got in trouble."
I couldn't help but laugh when Cullen suddenly started to snicker, as if he were watching those past events play out in his head. It was even more hilarious when admitted to having a fear of birds.
We ate dessert quickly, since it had already started to get late, and paid the bill even quicker. I desired nothing more than to just take the stupid waitress by her hair, and smash her face right into the remnant pieces of chocolate cake from my dessert plate.
Couldn't she see that Cullen was with me? Even if it was nothing more than just a business meeting, it wasn't as if she knew that. For all she knew, I could have been his girlfriend, but she chose to ignore the suggestive implicitness of our meeting, and continued to batter her eyes at him.
My eyes narrowed at her of their own volition.
Cullen paid for the entire bill, despite my hard-headed refusal to allow him to pay for me, and we made a start for the door.
Taking the role of the total gentleman, he opened the doors for me, and I couldn't help but smile at his sudden approach at "behaving". I giggled, tightened Cullen's jacket over my body to brace myself for the cold weather I knew awaited me outside, and brushed past him in high spirits. Tonight had been completely wonderful. It was… way more than just fun. I enjoyed myself far more than I had in a long time. There was something about Cullen that just felt right. We clicked– – when he wasn't being a total ass, of course– – in a way that was rare for me. I wasn't the type to become attached to a person, especially towards one who initially irritated me as much as Cullen had, but I was truly becoming attached to him. I knew that there was another reason for me wanting to keep him under my management, aside from previous excuse of him being drop-dead gorgeous. That, too, was one of the reasons, but there was something more than that.
I truly didn't want Cullen to leave. I wanted him near me. I was beyond comfortable with him, and– – to be absolutely honest– – I didn't want to throw that away. Not just yet, anyways.
This sudden realization surprised me immensely. I barely knew the guy, for chrissake, and yet, I knew that we were going to be more than just model and manager. I had many chances to fire Cullen in the past two weeks that I had known him, and many reasons to as well. To put it simply; he was a jerk. The majority of what came out of his mouth made me want to stab him in the head with a pen, and sometimes, his actions were even worse. He was bothersome– – always insisting on following me around everywhere and hanging out in my office. I had seriously considered killing him. But even so, I had never rejected his advances to hang around me. I allowed him to follow me around, regardless of how irksomely annoying he was.
It was unusual of me to get into a friendly relationship with one of my models, but I couldn't push aside the feeling that Cullen and I could possibly end up like me and Jacob– – only without the romance, of course. And of course, considering just how much of his personality he was willing to change.
I stepped out of the restaurant, with Cullen close behind me, and nearly bumped into someone in front of me.
"Sorry," I mumbled, steadying myself from the impact. I looked up, hoping to apologize once more to the person who I had nearly sent spiraling to the floor, and was completely taken aback at the sight of a pair of venomous eyes spitefully staring at me.
"Who the hell are you?" The blonde woman snapped, furiously, looking as if she was ready to the hell was she talking about? "And what the hell are you doing with my boyfriend?"
Now I was even more confused. Was this lady off her rocker or something? She must have been, because she was speaking absolute nonsense.
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," I snapped at her as she took a step towards me, "But I suggest you back away before I start getting angry."
The woman, however, didn't heed my threat. She took another step forward, looking about ready to strike me, and I parted my legs apart, ready to take her on. Was she a psycho? The last time I checked, people just don't randomly pick fights with other people for no god damn apparent reason.
"Listen, you little– – " before another word could come out of the blonde's mouth, Cullen suddenly stepped between us.
"Tanya," Cullen sighed monotonously, "could you please stop this?"
Tanya? The name sounded extremely familiar…
"Stop what, Edward," Tanya snapped, "Stop questioning that damn woman?"
"Tanya," Cullen warned, his voice becoming thick with force, "Relax yourself and listen…"
Oh! Tanya was Cullen's girlfriend…
"Do not tell me to relax, Edward," She hissed, bravely, "when I see you leaving a restaurant with another woman, right after you cancelled on me."
I shouldn't have, but I felt slightly smug.
"And me," I heard someone mutter from behind Tanya. I peeked over Edwards shoulder, and noticed that there were a group of four people behind her. They must have came with Tanya.
As a manager for models, I couldn't help but evaluate them. The first who grabbed my attention, was am extremely tall guy with frightening large muscles. Despite his massive body size, he had a natural baby face. He was simply gorgeous, and I couldn't help but picture him on the cover of some sports magazine, clad in nothing more than a skimpy pair of Speedo's.
The man who stood next to him was also extremely handsome, with long blonde hair and sharp features. He was, however, far too short. I secretly wished that the big one could give a few inches of his height to him.
The woman who stood beside the blonde, was also very pretty. She was about an inch shorter than the guy who I assumed was her date, and had fiery red hair and green eyes. She was pretty, but she completely lacked the raw feel of a model. In other words; I couldn't ever use her.
The red-head, however, was nothing compared to the beauty beside her. I recognized her at once, as Rosalie Hale; the daughter of Twilight Runway's president. I had seen Rosalie only a few times since I had joined the company. We weren't really friends, but since she knew Alice well, and we had become acquaintances over the past few years. I was still surprised that she was the Rosalie who dated Cullen's brother.
"Listen, Tanya," Cullen argued, impatiently, " Nothing is going on– – "
"Edward, don't you dare tell me that nothing is going on, when that little witch over there is wearing the coat that I bought for you."
I felt my eyes open wide as the origin of Cullen's coat was sounded before me.
My lips dropped down into a scowl, and I restrained myself from throwing the damn coat at her just to shut her the hell up. The jacket that had once felt so warm, was suddenly cooling as Cullen and Tanya's argument dragged on. I was beginning to think that I would have been warmer without the thing.
"What good freaking reason could you possibly have to cancel with me, to meet some other woman?" Tanya basically shouted. I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Was she the type of girl that Cullen really liked? I was beginning to pity Cullen more and more.
"She's my manager, Tanya!"
I suppressed a smirk as Tanya's open mouth snapped close, and she frowned, "What do you mean?"
Cullen sighed in frustration, and pinched the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb, "She's my modeling manager. You know, the one who'll be getting me all of my jobs. Thank you very much for attacking my boss, by the way."
Cullen' voice was thick with anger and heavy sarcasm. I didn't know what to assume– – Was this a normal thing, or not? Tanya acting like a suspicious leech, I mean.
"Then… why is she so young?" Tanya asked, still disbelieving.
Cullen, obviously annoyed, snapped, "Rose is only twenty-three and she's already head of her firm."
I almost laughed when I saw Tanya's eyes narrow in disbelief, "Then why is she wearing your jacket?"
'You're clutching at straws', I nearly sang aloud.
"It's freezing out here and she forgot to bring one of her own. Should I be arrested now?"
Tanya was clearly taken aback by Edwards bored expression and tone, but she continued, nevertheless.
"God, Edward, you were having dinner for chrissake! At a restaurant!"
I literally had to bite back a laugh, but a snort still managed to escape. Where else would be having dinner?
Tanya glared at me from behind Cullen, and though I couldn't see his face, I knew– – from the edge of humor in his tone– – that he found it funny, as well.
"We needed to discuss some things, but Bella only had the evening available. Seeing as how it's this late, don't you think that it's understandable for us to get dinner?"
Ok, that was stretching it a bit far, but I wasn't going to blow up his spot. In all honesty, I wanted Cullen to just walk away. Why did he have to explain things to her. I– – for some unknown reason– – wanted him to just simply tell her "it's none of your business", and just leave. But I knew that was impossible. She was his girlfriend. Not me. If our positions had been switched, and Tanya had been Jacob– – not that Jake would ever dream of humiliating me the way Tanya did Cullen, I wouldn't want Cullen to intervene in my explanation. Cullen would have had to stay quiet. It wasn't his business, after all. Just like, now, it wasn't mine.
"Oh, god… Edward…" Tanya finally cried. I didn't believe that she was actually crying, until I saw real and actual tears running down her face.
My jaw dropped as she ran up to Cullen, and wrapped her arms around him, "Edward… I'm so sorry, baby…" she a little….!
I heard Cullen sigh, and all I wanted to do was grab the little wench off of him. It was obvious to see that she was just a lying hussy! How could one be some cruelly accusing one second, and then so emotional the next? It was an act! Cullen was being deceived!
Cullen's arms remained in the air, as if he didn't know where to put them, and all I could think about was him pushing her away. I was pissed; how could he fall for such a woman?
Before I could even think anything else, I felt someone's eyes on me. I looked up, back to the annoying couple in front of me, and nearly growled when I saw Tanya sneering at me from above Cullen's shoulders. Her expression clearly read something along the lines of, "You-can-get-lost-now, Bimbo".
'Don't do it', I warmed myself, 'Don't grab her by her hair and bash her face into the pavement… Don't…'
I told myself this, but I wanted to do it, so bad.
And since I couldn't, I settled on the next best thing.
I slipped the jacket off from over my shoulders, shivered slightly from the sudden feel of ice-like wind against me, and walked over to Cullen and Tanya.
As I passed them, I slapped the jacket sharply in Tanya's face, fully aware that I had also hit Cullen's head– – not that I minded much, of course– – and called out before I could hear Tanya's screeching yells, "You should really let someone else buy your jacket's, Cullen. That one is seriously ugly."
I walked over to my car quickly, ignoring Tanya's piercing squawks and the unfamiliar sound of booming laughter, and slid into the drivers seat. Without even bothering to put on my seat belt, I turned the heat on, hit the engine, and sped my way away from the restaurant and towards home.
I felt happy for being able to piss off Cullen's girlfriend so much. Happy, and to my utmost confusion, extremely sick