CH 10 – All About U
…
I don't know what music to bring. Bella listens to dentist music and talk radio so I download a shitload of Celine Dion and put the NPR app on my phone. I also make sure to bring some Kanye, in case she likes rap and the new Mumford and Sons, if she's into that hipster shit. And Steve Miller Band. You can never go wrong with Steve Miller Band.
My mom asks if I'm going to be riding with them and you can't imagine the immense satisfaction I get when I tell her not a chance in the fiery depths of hell. I don't tell her who I'm riding with or why I don't need a ride and she doesn't ask. I guess she's still pissed because I "ruined" Thanksgiving. Whatever.
I'm a little nervous about picking Bella up at her house. What if her sister's there? Worse, what if her dad's there? I bet that dude thinks I'm the biggest asshole on the planet. Just because I used to kinda date his daughter. And now I'm kinda dating his other daughter.
Jesus, I am the biggest asshole on the planet.
Turns out I don't need to worry about it. Bella's at my house before four. She walks up to the door, too. It took me an exorbitant amount of time to pick music so I'm just getting out of the shower when Alice lets her in.
I'm in the bathroom, trying to gel what little hair I have into a somewhat presentable coiffure, and I hear her voice. Her laughter harmonizes with Alice's shrieks and giggles. Like fucking school girls. Then I remember, they are school girls.
Shit, Bella's the same age as my sister.
At least she's a junior. Which technically only makes her a year younger than me. In school years, of course. This is okay, I guess. It's not like I could be arrested or anything.
I hope.
I quickly throw on a sweatshirt and my jeans and grab my heavy coat. It's going to be so cold out there tonight.
On second thought, I strip off the sweatshirt, fucking up my carefully gelled haphazard spikes and throw on a thermal too. I hope Bella bundled up. With her severe lack of body fat, she's liable to lapse into hypothermia from a slight breeze. I grab an extra sweatshirt. And then pull the quilt off my bed. Just in case.
I fix my hair, one last time, in my closet mirror and I catch a glimpse of a hooded figure with big eyeballs and giant, pointed teeth.
"Shit!" I gasp and Bella breaks into a grin that reaches all the way up to her dark eyes. Her navy sweatshirt is made to look like a monster. It's a monster hoodie.
"Alice said I could come on up," she says as she pulls down the hood. She marches into my bedroom. Without hesitation, mind you. Like there's zero chance of porn or dirty underwear lying on the floor. Obviously she doesn't have any brothers.
She's wearing a corduroy skirt and stockings. Fishnets. Like that's going to offer any protection from the elements. Luckily, she's also wearing knee socks and combat boots. She stops at my dresser to check out the boxed Star Wars action figures I have on display. She picks up Yoda, reads the back and then puts him back down while I do a quick scan for incriminating evidence of my disgustingness.
"You have a toy collection?" she asks. She's holding Princess Leia now. Jabba's slave Princess Leia. In the gold bikini. I'm not going to tell her what I think about when I hold Gold Bikini Princess Leia.
"They're not toys. Nobody plays with them," I respond and she smiles.
"I still collect Yu-Gi-Oh cards," she says. "And pogs. Do you remember pogs?"
"They still make pogs?"
"If you know where to look." She moves on to my book shelf. Which is mostly filled with role playing games; D&D and Pathfinder. You know, the kind of thing you try to keep hidden until you die.
"Do you play these?" she smirks and I roll my eyes.
Please don't let her open my desk drawer. I have a collection of many sided dice.
I'm trying to think of a distraction when she notices my trumpet case next to my bed. She sits on my bed and opens the case and lightly touches the brass instrument.
"Can I blow your trumpet?" she asks in husky voice that makes me blush before I realize she's fucking with me. It's funny. She's funny and I want to be funny too, but I'm blank. Absolutely nothing.
"Uh, um, sure," I stutter and this just makes her laugh again. I sit down next to her and pick up the trumpet. I've already completely destroyed any street cred I may have accidentally accumulated. Might as well go for broke.
"I'm not used to pretty girls touching my trumpet," I say and she raises an eyebrow. The one with the metal bar through it. A whole minute passes. I'd imagine this is the part where I'm supposed to like, lean in and like, kiss her cheek or something.
"Oh God, Edward. That was horrible! Where's your imagination? You could have at least said something about how you blow your own trumpet all the time," she laughs. She's laughing at me.
I put the instrument to my lips and I blow. A slow, sad, wha-wha-whaaaa. I hold out the last note and her eyes are twinkling. When she laughs, it's like she's glowing.
I disconnect the mouthpiece and wipe it down with a microfiber cloth and she watches the whole time. Normally, this would be weird, being watched like this. But I figure she's already seen my blood and my puke. I guess she can see this too.
When I've snapped my case in place, I look up and she's still staring. I don't like it. So I stare back. She narrows her eyes and smirks and it's on. I haven't lost a staring contest since 2007, when Jake unceremoniously pinched my nipple as a distraction.
She smiles and stares and I think she might break for lack of conversation and general sense of awkwardness but she doesn't. I let my eyes glaze over because I'll be damned if I let her beat me this early in the game. How will she ever respect me if I let her beat me in a staring contest?
Finally, when my eyes begin to water and her neck has to be sore from craning up at me like that, she gasps, like she forgot something.
"What?" I ask and then I've gone and done it, I blink and her face lights up.
"Nothing. I just remembered I have like four episodes of Workaholics recorded. And we're having pizza tonight," she turns to leave. "Ready?"
"You're a cheater," I mutter and she just laughs.
"Nah, I'm just hungry. And forgetful. You want me to drive?" I grab my hat and gloves, the extra jacket, my big jacket and my quilt and follow her down the stairs and out the door.
"Nope," I say, my mouth muffled by all the linens and whatnot. I manage to unlock the trunk and throw all the shit in there, along with two camping chairs from the garage, but I keep my hat and gloves.
Bella grabs a backpack, a pair of earmuffs, a scarf and her big poofy jacket out of her truck and dumps them in my trunk. She keeps her earmuffs and scarf and then parks herself in my front seat. I thought maybe she'd argue about driving, but she doesn't say a word. Just wraps her scarf around her neck. Before I can put on my carefully selected music, she turns off the radio. I think she's planning on conversation for the duration of this trip.
We ride in silence towards the freeway. Bella's stares out the window and then snickers to herself, a muffled giggle out of nowhere.
"What?" I ask and she shakes her head.
"Nothing. I just thought of how I beat you in a staring contest using superb methods of distraction. Your nosiness is your downfall," she smirks.
"Your faith in your friends is yours," I say, in my best Emperor Palpatine voice and she laughs, loud and booming.
By the time we get to Lou Malnati's, I've explained every shit detail that is the Star Wars prequels. She hasn't even seen them, and there's a part of me that is completely envious of this. If only I could bleach my brain of that computer generated bullshit back story. If only.
We don't have to wait long for a table; it's still early. I order a Dr. Pepper and Bella gets an iced tea with extra lemon. She dumps about five sugar packets into the thing.
She folds the empty wrappers into tiny rectangles and then hooks them together, creating a chain out of white paper.
"Sometimes I use Sweet and Low, just to mix it up a bit," she says when she notices I'm watching her.
"You could always use Splenda, maybe an Equal or two?" I add and her eyes lighten.
"Once, I made a belt out of Starburst wrappers. Wrapped around my waist like twice."
"What was that, like five candies?" I smirk and she frowns. "I just meant, because your waist is so small. Like seriously, are you missing ribs?"
"You can't fight genetics," she shrugs. "I'm more concerned about how your heart gets blood all the way to your brain up there. Do you ever bend over, just to give it a break?"
"I do, in fact. Every twenty minutes," I say.
Just then the waitress stops by to take our order. Bella gets the chicken parmesan sandwich and I order a pepperoni deep dish.
"I didn't eat lunch," I mutter and Bella shrugs.
"I'm not the food police."
We wait for our food in silence and it's a little weird. I know eventually we're going to have to talk about things. Like how I used to make out with her sister. And she almost fucked my best friend. On many occasions, according to Jake. I'm dying to get it all out on the table but I'm also afraid of what she'll say. What if her version's worse? What if it's not just with Jake? What is she really is a freak in the sack?
Not that I'm complaining, really. I'm just, scared. And inexperienced. I just don't want to look like a loser.
Too late, my subconscious whispers. He's a dick.
At any rate, I guess now is not the time. Not on the first date. If this is a date. Which I'm not exactly sure it is.
Shit, what if this isn't a date? What if she just wanted company?
Maybe I should ask her?
No, Edward, stop. Just let it be.
Right. John always was the rational Beatle.
That was Paul, you idiot.
See? Total asshole.
By the time our food arrives, I'm having an anxiety attack. Bella's on her third iced tea and her sugar packet chain is at least six inches long. Almost a belt.
I don't say that out loud, of course. Because I use my filters. Remind me to pat myself on the back later.
Bella picks off all the cheese and then wipes off most of the sauce. She shoves a couple fries into her sandwich and then covers it in Parmesan cheese.
"Why didn't you just order it dry?" I ask and she takes a huge bite of her concoction.
"Because I don't want it dry," she says, her mouth full of sandwich. She swallows and drinks her tea. "I like it better this way. What's the point in eating something I'm not completely happy with?"
She takes another bite and smiles, a little sauce on her cheek and it's fucking cute.
And she makes a valid point.
I choose a slice of my pie, and I cut off the crust. Because I don't really like the crust.
"Can I have that?" she asks and I nod. "The crust is my favorite part."
"It's like we're made for each other then," I say as she reaches for the saucy bread. She tilts her head, her front teeth pressing into her bottom lip. There's a gap in her two front teeth. I like it.
"From a pizza perspective, of course." I take a huge bite of my crustless pizza.
"Of course," she grins and then devours her sandwich. I like watching her eat. She eats like every bite of her sandwich is the best bite ever.
Bella eats her entire sandwich and two of my crusts. I don't know how that's even possible. I try to keep up, but by the time the bill comes, I'm at max capacity. I put my dad's credit card in the billfold and Bella hands me a twenty. I shake my head.
"No way, you drove," she says. It's true, gas ain't cheap. But a true gentleman treats a lady, simply for the pleasure of her company. My mom taught me that. I shake my head again.
"I guess our waitress is getting a sweet tip, then." I leave her money on the table.
"She really was a great waitress. My glass wasn't empty once," she says. She has to be kidding. She is not going to leave that lady a twenty dollar tip.
The waitress brings me back the card and I sign and leave a perfectly acceptable tip. I stand and grab my coat. She does the same and pulls her bag over her shoulder. She waits for me, her hands in her back pockets, a challenge in her dark eyes.
"Look, you can get next," I say and her eyebrow goes up. "Next time, you can buy."
"Can I?" she smirks.
"If you want," I say and pick up her cash. I hold it out to her and she takes it, slowly, her fingers sliding against mine in the gentlest of touches. It's warm, spreading up my arm like wild fire. I expect it to last only a millisecond but she holds her hand there.
"Next time," she reaffirms before releasing me. She turns and is out the door before I can gather my wits. The money's gone and my hand is cold.
She stands by my car waiting, shifting her stick-legs, her weight moving from one clunky boot to the other.
I unlock her door and open it for her and she smiles and takes her seat. This is most definitely a date.
It's a quick drive to the stadium. I park and grab all my stuff from the trunk. Bella takes the blanket and then holds up my extra jacket.
"Do you need this?" she asks and I don't know. I legitimately don't know. What if she gets cold later? It's barely dark and her legs are really skinny.
"Um, maybe," I say and she tucks it under her arm. I take the blanket from her arms and surprisingly, she lets me. I like that, that she lets me.
There's all kinds of people tailgating in the parking lot. I'm pretty sure my parents are here somewhere but I have no desire to find them. Alice was going to come, but it's just too cold and uncomfortable. I wonder if Jake drove down from Indy with his mom. He's probably sitting with Lauren and Emmett and Rosalie. Fucking traitor.
Like I should talk. Bella's rainbow hair bounces in front of me.
"Hey, how do you get your hair like that? All the colors only in certain spots?" I ask and she whips her head around.
"It's quite the ordeal," she says. "Maybe I'll let you watch some time."
She exaggerates a wink and I have to laugh. She may be funnier than me. Maybe.
I have to sit with the band and I pull Bella along with me. Mr. Cullen will be cool with it. He said my family could come sit with me if they wanted, but I vetoed that proposition right away. I just don't know if I could sit through a whole football game with my mom flirting with my band teacher.
Mr. Cullen's down in the front of the huge field and I see Mike sitting up with the ensemble. He watches me the whole way down the steps. No, not watching. He's glaring at me. I try to ignore him but then Bella waves at him and he waves back.
I give her a look, because really, whose side is she on? She just throws it right back.
"What? I'm not the one who was a dick to him," she says and I look back up at him. He's ignoring me now, focused on his bells and shit. "You know, you could just say sorry. He'd probably forgive you."
It's true. Mike doesn't hold grudges and he accepts people for who they are, mistakes and all. He's the best person I know. But he seems truly happy now, with his new friends and his new life. He doesn't need me. He doesn't even miss me.
We find Mr. Cullen and he's talking to Riley, going over a few last logistics. I find a spot down on the field, directly below the band and next to Cullen's folding chair. I set up our seats. Bella plops down in her chair and her feet don't even touch the ground.
"Do you need a step stool?" I say and she flips me off but she's laughing. She pulls her legs up underneath her and puts on her earmuffs. I wrap the blanket around her shoulders and all I can see of her is her face.
"This is going to make me claustrophobic," she says, her arms bound inside the quilt.
"But you look so adorable. Like a prairie dog." I laugh and she breaks her arms free from the cocoon.
Cullen makes his way down to the field. He's decked out in Riverside High colors, blue and white. He's wearing a cap and his Riverside High windbreaker and I can see his tie and collared shirt underneath. Look at that school spirit. Go Bulldogs!
"Edward, just the man I was looking for. Can you do me a favor? I hate to ask this of you, but I left some sheet music in my car. I'm parked right through the locker room, behind the stadium in the preferred parking." He hands me his keys and I stare at the silver circular emblem. How can Mr. Cullen afford a Benz on a teacher's salary?
I look at Bella and she's already throwing off her serape. She stands and grabs my hand.
"No problem, Mr. Cullen. We'll be right back." Her eyes are sparked with mischief and I have no idea what's going through her head. I just hope it's not illegal.
She pulls me into the locker room and she's bold as fuck. Just saunters into the room like she owns the place. Thank God most of these dudes are already dressed.
"Bella!" Tyler shouts and then waves. Bella drops my hand and gives him a hug.
"Hey! Good luck tonight!" Jesus, is she friends with everyone? Why wasn't she friends with me?
"Thanks girl," he says and she kisses his cheek. Which makes me fume. She never kisses my cheek.
Tyler gives me a nod and I return the gesture. Bella grabs my arm and pulls me out the back door. How does she even know where the door is? Has she been in this locker room before?
We walk outside and there's a hundred cars. I have no idea which one is Mr. Cullen's. This is ridiculous. Before I can freak out, Bella grabs the key from my hand and she just starts pushing buttons. She holds the key above her head but it's not very effective.
"Do you want me to try?" I ask and she rolls her eyes but there's a smile on her face.
Suddenly, there's a loud horn and lights are flashing. Bella looks elated. We both jog over to the black two-door sports car and she quickly turns off the alarm. Holy shit! Mr. Cullen drives a SL 500! Where did Cullen get the cash for this shit? Drug trafficking?
"See? I don't need a man. Or person of reasonable height," she says and then she's climbing in the driver's seat.
"What are you doing?" I ask and she grins.
"I'm getting the sheet music," she says and she puts the key in the ignition. Slams her door shut.
"Bella. Bella, stop," I panic and again, there's the devil in her grin. She rolls down the window.
"Get in," she says and I look around.
"Bella," I say and she's putting the car in drive. "Bella!"
Instead of responding, she starts to slowly back up. I can't let her just drive off. I throw open the passenger door and jump inside. She laughs and peels out in the gravel.
"Shit, you're stealing our teacher's car," I gasp. My heart is pounding and I feel like I just ran a marathon. Or a mile, at least.
"He's not my teacher," she laughs and then fiddles with the stereo. Queen blasts through the speakers and Bella yelps.
"Nice choice, Mr. Cullen. I'm impressed." She turns up the volume and sings along. We are the champions of the world!
"Come on, Edward. Sing! I know you know the words," she yells. She's speeding around the parking lot, drifting corners like this is the test track on Top Gear. It's really impressive, actually. The way she's handling that stick. It'd also be kind of hot, if my stomach weren't in turmoil. Equal parts sexy and vomit inducing.
"I don't know the words," I mumble and hold the handle above my head.
"Liar!" She speeds around a curve and practically takes out some pedestrians in the process. "We're not getting out of this car until you sing."
I look at her and she's silently mouthing the words. If she thinks that's persuasive, she's delusional.
I sigh. There's only a few verses left. I know the words. I mean, who doesn't?
I mumble along with the music and the minute I do, she lowers the volume. I stop, and glare at her. She's listens, expecting.
"Let it out," she urges. Like a siren. She's impossible to resist.
So I yell. At the top of my lungs. And she laughs and hollers and my heart's in my throat. I'm out of air but it feels amazing to hear Bella laugh like that.
She pulls into a parking spot. Not the same one where we found the car, mind you. And she screeches to a halt. She's breathless and flushed and just so completely alive. I don't think I've ever felt the way she looks. Pure luminescence.
"There. That wasn't so bad." She shrugs and her hair's in her face, a long blue curl right in front of her cheek.
"It was awful, actually," I say and I want to move her hair but I'm kind of afraid to touch her. What if she doesn't approve? What if she smacks my hand out of the way?
Before I can make the decision, she pushes it behind her ear and she's staring at me, beaming, shining. She shifts in the seat, turning toward me and she leans closer. Breathes closer. Her eyes touch every inch of my face and then, as if she can't decide if she should, her hand slides around the back of my neck and she raises her lips to mine.
It's a flood. In my head. In my chest. In my pants. Everything overflows. She kisses me, breathes into me, her fingers run over the scarred skin on the back of my head. It's the best kiss I've ever had in my entire life. Like she really means it. Like there's nowhere else she'd rather be. And there's no one else she'd rather be with. It makes me want to cry, it's so beautiful.
And then it's over. She pulls away and hops out of the car, waiting for me to follow. And I do. Because at this point, I'd follow her to hell and back. All because of that one kiss.
Pure energy, it can't be created. It can't be destroyed. And Bella is pure energy. I want to stand next to her all the time, so I can always feel it.
I can't always stand next to her, of course. Because that would be creepy. But right now, I can feel her energy all I want. Because she's holding my hand and she might kiss me again tonight.
Most definitely a date.
We get back to our seats and Cullen is going crazy waiting for the sheet music. Luckily, it isn't needed until half-time.
"We had a hard time finding your car," Bella says and then hands him the key and the music. I'm so glad she remembered. And I'm embarrassed one kiss can make me act such a fool. Hopefully, she won't notice.
"Sorry, I should have given you more specific instructions." Mr. Cullen climbs the bleachers, handing the music to Riley up on the podium.
Bella plops down in her chair and wraps the blanket around her shoulders. I wish we could sit closer. And maybe kiss again.
We don't. But I have no idea what happens during that game. Every time Bella leans to the left and grabs my arm, I think about her hand grazing over my scar and all focus is gone. I don't even know if we win. All I can remember is that Bella's lips are soft, much more gentle than Rosalie, yet more hesitant, more reverence. If Rosalie devours, Bella savors.
I don't see any of my friends again, not even Mike. I do see my mom, however. She's decked out in her skinny jeans and parka, waving to me from the stadium.
"Edward!" she shouts and Mr. Cullen's ears prick. He pretends to look busy, gathering his shit, putting things into his briefcase. Play on, player, play on.
I pretend not to hear her and try to think of something to talk to Bella about, so I can look engaged in conversation, but Bella heard my mom as well.
Bella waves to her and smiles and then looks at me. "There's your mom," she says and I close my eyes and nod and mentally prepare to deal with the woman.
She makes her way down to the field and she keeps looking over my shoulder, right at Mr. Cullen who is also pretending not to stare. Oh, get a room already.
"Hi honey! Great game, huh?" I'm pretty sure my mom could give two shits about football.
"I don't know. I wasn't paying attention," I say and Bella nudges my foot with hers. I don't know if it was on purpose.
"I didn't know you had a date," my mom says, this twinkling gleam in her eye.
"Oh, we're just friends," Bella says and my stomach literally drops into my trendy high top sneakers. What the hell does she mean, friends? Does she kiss all her friends?
Well, she's kissed Tyler. And Jake. And Mike.
Shit.
Does she think I'm gay?
So definitely not a date then. Well, that pretty much sucks.
"We're heading over to Lou Malnati's for some pizza. Are you hungry?" my mom asks and I roll my eyes. I'm about to act like a five year old but Bella interrupts.
"We ate there earlier! I wish we would have known, we could have waited," she says and my mom looks weird. Is that...yep, I think that's disappointment.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't think…" my mom trails off and it's like it clicks in her head. Yeah, mom, when it comes to me you don't really think...ever.
"It's okay. Next time," Bella says confidently and it's a command. My mom gets it, too. She nods, sheepishly. Holy shit, Bella's the parent whisperer.
"Well, you kids have fun," my mom says. She's staring at Mr. Cullen, willing him to notice her. I'm sure he does, but he's acting shy. Or playing hard to get. Whatever, it's working because my mom looks utterly disappointed.
Just as she's walking away, Bella gets a text from her friend, the giggler. Her name is Victoria, actually. Her dickhead boyfriend is having a party at his house. James and Victoria both go to Kennedy. I've never been to a Kennedy party before.
"So do you want to go?" Bella asks and I want to say no. Bella said this wasn't a date. And I'm trying like hell to not care, but it's eating at me like spit on a pixie stick.
Besides, I'm sure these people know my sister. I'm sure they've seen her camera crew and shit and I just don't have the filters in place to deal with them right now.
I shrug, and she smiles. She knows I'm hesitant. I'm pretty sure she knows why. But she doesn't ask again. Just waits.
I don't want this night to be over. What if I make her laugh again? Or kiss me?
"Why not?" I give and she's quickly sending a text.
There's a ton of reasons why I shouldn't go to this party.
"Let's go, then," Bella says as she gathers the quilt under her arm. I get the chairs and then her fingers lace with mine.
Then again, there's one reason I should.
…
A/N:
Is anyone else devastated by Heidi Klum and Seal's separation?
Boo prereads and LightStarDusting beta's. They restore my faith in true love on a daily basis.
Thank you for pimpage and for comments and for reading!