AN: Not sure how you feel about "revisiting content" to quote Insatiable Sexward for a second. Ten chapters are reposted with quite a few things altered. The story is almost completely beta-ed with just a few chapters to go until completely caught up.
TwilightMomofTwo is doing a really thoughtful job of asking me the right questions to clarify things and it's improving the accuracy of the story, so to speak.
There is a bit of narration and internal monologue that has been added. Take a look if it's not too tedious for you. I forget you haven't read the thing ad nauseum like I have. Oh, and apparently I don't have overactive comma disorder; I have illogical spelling arrogance and a bit of pig headedness. (My words. Not hers, she would never be so ungracious…she is the soul of graciousness.)
No snippet from a previous chapter this time. Although, we left Edward reading that "Running" book.
Chapter Ten
Morning Amusements
Saturday Morning
EPOV
7:20 AM
Wrapping paper sucks. Whoever came up with this crap should be…keel hauled or something. I have officially managed to tear what seems like ten reams of this brown butcher paper, and taped two fingers together. What does mom do? I think she twists the ends and tapes them… That doesn't look right. Ehh. Fuck it. She's just going to tear the paper off anyhow. I can tie a bow, can't I? Stupid slippery twine shit. Try tightening the bow without your finger stuck, moron. There. It's done. It's a nightmare – it looks terrible. A four-year old could have done that better, no doubt. Oh well.It's the thought that counts, right?
BPOV
7:45 AM
At least Edward knew how much I hate early mornings already. Evan from work contacted me to let me know he was back. Ready for a break from so many extra shifts, I offered him this morning's shift last night via text. I also let Edward know my morning had suddenly changed. He muttered something about mouse ears and then said good night rather abruptly. I hope everything is okay.
So I finally get around to unwrapping Alice's carefully selected outfit. I know it will be perfect for me; that's why I don't need to drool over it ahead of time. She does need some verbal and visual praise. So I got ready and took some pictures of myself to send to her.
Why am I taking a picture of my own ass again? Oh yeah, because Alice would want to know the "line" of the slacks. Pshaw! The girl is a nut.
Standing in front of the mirror behind my bedroom door, I took stock of Alice's work. She found some kind of tight navy blue sparkle- woven sweater with an oversized V that dipped down to my belly button. Underneath was that red lace trimmed camisole she said would flatter me. I liked the pants because they were comfy. It was this odd pearlized stretchy cream fabric.
I've never seen anything like this before. Alice would say, "Dahling, it's Donna Karen, of course it's fabulous!"
Next up is lotion and shoes. Gotta love that Strawberries and Champagne Body Butter stuff. If I could shrink myself, I'd hop into the jar and swim around in it. How do I tie these long red satin straps? I guess around my ankles a bit. There.
Alice gave me some crazy picture of some non-lesbian, girl-kissing singer who's supposed to be really hot - Katy something. Anyhow, I was totally not going to try to do some 50's pinup girl makeup. I did curl my hair a little bit, however, and it fell in soft waves. Clear lip gloss and mascara was enough.
Okay, enough vanity. I'm supposed to do something else though. What is it? Hmm…Oh yeah, it's that handbag thing. She's right - it does match the shoes, and it has a longer over- the- shoulderstrap made of that matching red satin stuff, so that my hands can be free.
I quickly transferred all of my most essential junk into the pockets of the bag.
Hmm. It all just fist. Thank you Alice, you're not totally evil. What about the band aid thing? This is so weird knowing I'm going to give myself a blister today. What the hell is the precognitive protocol for self-inflicted injuries? Do I just put the damn band aid on my foot ahead of time? Or do I wait until I feel a burning sensation?
My brain registered three raps on the front door, and with that, butterflies began a circuit around my stomach. My breathing sped up in excitement and I had to remind myself to unclench my hands, and to take measured breaths.
That's him! Try not to act too excited.
Wait, why am I hiding my excitement? I'm totally jazzed!
Well, you don't know where you're going…so he's going to know you're this excited just to see him.
I don't care. He's cute when he's cocky.
Another set of three sharp raps sounded from the front door.
"Bella, could you open the door? My hands are full, and some lady across the courtyard is staring at me," he said in a slightly elevated voice in deference to what I assumed was the early hour.
Poor hot guy getting ogled by the nosy flowerpot lady. It has to be her; she has a permanent staring problem.
I reached the door and fumbled with the three locks before I swung it open. My eyes drank in his light blue t-shirt and dark jeans. His hands were full. Oddly, he made no move to free his hands. His eyes were moving, but they kept darting back up to my eyes almost as though he were getting distracted by something. He had a backpack and what must be breakfast, and some kind of huge, bizarrely wrapped flat rectangular thing leaning against the wall.
"Hey Sugar Plum," I greeted.
"Tell me that's not the pet name you've settled on. Shoot me now." Walking inside, he settled a paper bag with handles on the coffee table. I couldn't read the logo on the bag - it looked familiar though.
"You prefer Schmoopy ?"
"What the hell does that even mean, Swan?" he asked with an apprehensive look on his cute face.
"Come on in, Hot Pants." His forehead scrunched.
"You're the one wearing hot pants," he said in his defense.
"Actually these things are called clam diggers. It's supposed to be something about how the length is ideal for kneeling in sand or whatever." I eased the backpack off his shoulder. He groaned - the backpack didn't feel heavy.
That's odd. Why did he just groan?
"Hi, Edward." I looked up into his green eyes.
"Much better." He smiled at me.
Gosh you're cute.
"So I'm cute, huh?" he asked with a grin. I slapped my forehead, rather hard.
When will I remember that my internal monologue is totally broken?
"Shoot me now."
He slid his arms around me and kissed my forehead. I closed my eyes, puckered, and leaned in. He gave me a quick, soft kiss and rubbed my back. He'd already pulled away. I was still leaning, puckering. I looked at him.
"That's it?" I asked, dismayed.
"Food first, make out later."
Aha!
"So we're calling it make out now, not sessions or content?"
"We're totally making out now, Swan."
I remembered the thing on the stoop, pulled away to go bring it in, and closed the door.
"What is this poor tortured package, and why have you been punishing it with tape? What did it do to you, Edward?"
He looked a bit chagrined. "Uh…I've never really wrapped anything before. My mom, Esme, usually helps me with that sort of thing."
I felt a little bad for teasing him. "I've always enjoyed looking on the inside instead of focusing on the outside."
"I've always suspected that about you, Bella," he said, his eyes crinkling a little bit in the corners when he smiled.
"So are you going to tell me what it is?" I asked curiously.
"It's your second installment of flowers," he stated in a matter-of-fact way.
"Second installment? Is there some kind of schedule?"
"When I found out you've never received flowers, this seemed wrong somehow. I'm just correcting several errors. The other boys were dipshits, remember?"
"And you're definitely not some boyish dipshit, right?"
He feigned looking stern. "Certainly not! I'm a gentleman cowboy architect. Get it right, Swan. I thought you knew things."
I rolled my eyes at him, secretly in total agreement. "So… open it now, or open it later?"
"If you can handle the suspense, we should do that later. We need to eat and then get on the road. We're heading into Orange County," he informed me.
I went over to the bag on the coffee table and froze.
Mimi's Café. No way! Is it?
I opened up the bag and took out a clear plastic four pack of muffins - all Buttermilk Spice. I sat down with a plop onto my despicable futon. In shock, I reverted into Alice-speak.
"Sit. Couch. Now." He sat, clearly wondering what was going on in between my ears.
I'll tell you.
"What made you want to get this for breakfast?" I inquired, taking the four pack of muffins out of the paper bag.
"Hunger. I like those things. They have this sugary crust on the top. I got them last night on my way home from playing basketball. I had to hide them so I wouldn't get into them."
I wonder how that works…don't you know the muffins are there - lurking wherever you just put them?
We ate, careless about getting crumbs all over the place. I got up to pour us some watery blue fat free milk.
Returning with two glasses, I handed him one and explained how Alice and I have been crushing on those baked goods for the last two years. He laughed at my description of warm sugary goodness. He had a strange look on his face, though.
After a few minutes he put down his muffin and got quiet. He was eating a bite of muffin slowly; I could tell he wasn't thinking of baked goods any more. He was focused, intent.
I think he's trying to figure out how to change the subject. I wonder is causing that furrow over his brow.
"I don't know why I'm quibbling on what to say. I should just ask you," he stated decisively.
"Yes. Absolutely. You should." I waited patiently. I could literally see him gathering the courage – his facial expression was very easy to read.
"For our next make out session, I would like you to think about what you want to do next, Bella."
What I would like to do?
Think, Bella. He is opening up the doors to a sexual candy store. I don't think he's planning on hiding the jolly ranchers from you. What do you want?
Uh, M & M's?
Totally stupid, Bella. Ask him what is supposed to come next. Ask him!
I'm nervous. Shut up.
Hell if I know what comes next! I can't even think right now.
Taking a deep breath and trying not to stutter I said, "Well, what are my options? I don't really know what's supposed to happen next."
Options, Bella? Really? Do you expect him to say, 'press one for breast groping'?
I sat stiffly, not even resting against the back of the sofa. I leaned forward and let my head drop into my hands. He tentatively laid his hand on my shoulders and I jumped. He soothed his hand up and down my back absently. I glanced over at him through the curtain of my hair. He appeared to be thinking about something. His eyes darted up and then down again as though deliberating a decision. Suddenly inspired, he got up and walked over to the kitchen phone, picking up a notepad and pen I kept there for scratch paper.
"Let me just try this," he said, returning to his spot on the sofa. He started making a listof something. He was sitting on the edge of the sofa while writing on the coffee table. I scooted forward too trying to read what he had so far. He didn't give the thing a title.
I would have come up with a clever title first, but whatever. Oh! It's a make out session 'to-do' list…
He started by listing what we'd already done, and I liked that - seeing my little accomplishments with him in ink on paper.
His list is very…intentionally not vulgar. I think I can spot a few euphemisms. Ppppfft - acronyms even. Who uses acronyms for make out moves? I love the way he thinks…
- holding hands
- kiss on face
- embracing/ hugging
- exploratory kiss on lips
- passionate kiss on lips
- French kiss
- full body hug (FBH)
- free style kissing
- taking a nap together
- sleepover
- necking
- petting with clothes on
- shirtless hugging
- exploring each other's chests
- straddle kissing
- body massage/foot massage
- naked FBH
- showering together
- mutual pleasure without full sex
- things that go buzz
- oral pleasure
- sex (this has its own list)
Free style kissing? I don't even know what that one is…Surely that's not a reference to swimming? At least one of us has a clue.
He's willing to bust out the hardware if need be? Wow, you have to admire his dedication to the cause.
He put the pen down leaving the notepad on the coffee table. "Can we talk about this in a second?" he asked.
"Of course," I responded feeling confused.
He began to speak in a calm, quiet voice. "The goal of our project was to help you achieve orgasm, Bella. I'm supposed to learn how to make both of us happy sexually which means we have to work on our emotions too. I don't think you can have one without the other." He picked up my hand and kissed my knuckles.
He's charged himself with making both of us physically happy at the same time while tending to both of our emotions. I think he's heaping way too much pressure and responsibility onto himself. I've got to figure out a way to get him to share some of the burden.
"I've wanted to be in a relationship with you since you asked me on that bench. When you saw me hesitating, or thinking about something, I was not considering things. My mind was already made up. I wanted you; I have feelings for you - deep, crazy affectionate, possessive feelings." He paused to gather his thoughts again.
"I was considering whether or not I could do this right. In hindsight, it sounds a little bit foolish on my part to have gotten this far without letting you know how I feel." He angled his body on the couch so that he was facing me - still holding my hand. I took his other hand to give him reassurance.
"I want us to belong to each other. More than that, I want you to be mine. I don't know exactly how you feel, but I'm willing to be yours for as long as you want me. Will you be my girlfriend, Bella?"
'For as long as you want me'.There's something there…I don't know what it is, but I need to make a serious effort to ask him about that choice of words.
I didn't realize I'd been holding my breath, sympathetically nervous for him. I allowed myself to breathe and thought about my response. I squeezed his hands and made an effort to really look at him instead of hiding like I normally do.
"Nothing would make me happier than to be yours, because my best hours are spent with you. This will probably sound lame or ridiculous since we've only known each other a short while." I looked at our joined hands for a moment and then looked back into his eyes. "Everything that I do is more fun, more satisfying, and more enjoyable if I get to do it with you." His eyebrows shot up when I said that, and he nodded his head at me. He folded his arms across his chest since I was now apparently talking with my hands.
"I've been able to get all of my tasks done since seeing you on Wednesday; but in reality, I've just been passing the hours until I can be with you again. I told Alice the other day that I would give up those muffins for you, Edward. You are better than my favorite thing – you are my favorite thing." His face turned puzzled at my mention of muffins during an emotional confession, and then his face beamed when I said 'favorite thing'.
"I'm so happy," he said gathering me into his arms and breathing against my temple. "I don't even care about that damn list right now. This project is stressing me out a little. I want to keep moving forward, but I want it to be right for you. So, as awkward as all of this is going to be, and it's going to get very awkward, we're going to talk about this stuff before we do any of it." He kissed me on the lips, as though he could do nothing but that, in that moment.
I think my heart just melted into a puddle of mush. And that image of the asexual worm with its head buried in the dirt? Damn worm just got baked in the sunlight - it's toast.
EPOV
Whew. I need more of a plan. I didn't even know I was going to say that. Hey…she said yes! Plans be damned, Edward. Good work! Now get her to talk about how she feels about the plan. Which plan? The plan for the day or the make out thing?
I lifted my eyes to the clock. 8:30AM. "It's still early, and we have options," I said, thinking out loud again. "So, I'm just going to tell you what I planned, okay? Are you overly enamored of surprises? Will it spoil things if we… I think I need your advice about… actually…"
Why am I getting so tongue tied? One thought at a time.
"Just tell me, Edward. Use your words. You can't possibly screw this up. You just scored major points with the speech of the century."
"Speech of the century, huh? Are there any prizes for that?"
Like a kiss under your little ear? I know just the perfect spot.
Bella got this wicked look on her face and started reciting, "All submissions for prizes must be sent in writing before the allotted date. Employees of Swan~ Masen Incorporated are not permitted to enter. Swan~ Masen Inc. is not responsible for…"
What is this and how does she sound so legal... Employees?
"There is no cash value for the enclosed coupon…First prize is a kiss on the cheek. There will be one first prize winner. Second prize is a kiss permitted on the neck and shoulders. There will be three second prize winners.
I'd better win every damn prize then! Three second prize winners? Over my cold, dead, body will there be three knuckleheads having any access to your neck, dammit. That's mine!
"Third prize, also called the booby prize is…"
The image of her last statement sent my scattered mind into possessive cowboy caveman mode.
Whoooaaa. Hold on just one damn minute.
Leaning towards her slowly with an index finger crooked, I gently touched her bottom lip and begged her with my eyes to stop.
Too disturbing. I never know what I'm going to say that will set her off. Mind boggling. I have to ask though.
"What on earth was that? It was very intriguing, although slightly disconcerting. Where did that come from?"
"Well, I had to change the business. It's usually Swan~ Brandon LLC. Alice, my best friend, is starting a bachelor's degree in Business Administration soon. We've been joking around with legal speak lately. You said 'prize' and I just started babbling."
"Please tell me there's no contest and I get all your coupons." We laughed, and I reverted back to our subject from before.
"I think I over-planned our day," I said, chuckling. "I have us going to not one, but two amusement parks and dinner and everything. I think it's going to wear us out, and it's supposed to be about balance, right? I have this unexplainable need to impress you, which is dumb, because we have the most fun when we're doing nothing at all. Don't you agree?"
"Mixing wall paper paste would be fun with you, and I don't even like wall paper," Bella admitted rather puzzled with herself.
"Have you ever mixed the stuff before?" I questioned with a smile in my voice.
"No. But I have this strong instinct that it would still be fun, but only with you."
I slid back into the corner of the couch, pulling away slightly. I wanted her to follow me onto my lap like last time. I gestured with my arm for her to come on over. "Can you grab the list before you climb over here?" She did as requested and then settled in my lap with the notepad in her hands.
Please don't wiggle that sweet little butt and wake the sleeping beast.
"I think I know how to modify our date to keep the balance between fun outdoor activities and fun indoor activities."
"Okay. I still don't know what your original idea was."
"We would spend the morning at Disney's California Adventure doing a bunch of kid stuff - A Bug's Life 3-D, carnival games, and basically whatever looks good. There's this ice cream parlor that I want to take you to eventually. But I'm actually thinking of not going to Disneyland so we don't kill ourselves.
"The second park is Knott's Berry Farm. It's smaller, but has cool stuff too. I want to take you to the chicken dinner restaurant. It's legendary. Have you been before?"
She shook her head no.
"Then I propose this - we have our make out session for however much time we want. When your stomach starts to cuss me out, we go to Mrs. Knott's Chicken Dinner Restaurant for lunch. After lunch we check out Knott's, and walk off the chicken for a few hours. Then we head home tired and happy. What do you think?"
"I like it," she said with a shy smile. "I have an addendum. If you don't mind…"
Suddenly quiet, my chatterbox of a girlfriend became almost entirely non-verbal. She picked up the pen and clicked it a few times. She looked up at me, and then back at the notepad in her hands. Finally she underlined something and handed it to me.
"Sleepover?" I stated aloud.
She nodded, biting her lip.
"It's too much, isn't it?" she asked looking down. "It skips a few things from where we are. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. That's just one of the things I think I've missed by burying my head in the dirt. Cuddling sounds great, I could even get my fix of whatever it is that makes you smell so good." She admitted this openly, but couldn't look me in the eye. I tipped her chin back up to see those brown eyes.
"Hey. It's not too much. It's only one or two things down, and we get to set the rules, just you and me. I put the list in that order not to be rigid, but to maybe ease into things for you. You did say 'excruciatingly slow' on that bench, right? That phrase has stuck in my head. That doesn't mean that we can't do what naturally feels appealing to you. Hang the ordered list! Let's do what Bella wants. Sleepover it is."
Shit. What have I gotten myself into? I'm going to fucking scare her away with two trips to shower and I'll have perpetual wood, and we're not ready for dealing with this yet. I cannot screw this up! What the hell will she think if she hears the treadmill in the middle of the night? I've only barely gotten my act together. What if I do something to her while I'm sleeping? I could set off her PTSD…she might feel trapped under my arm. I don't want her to run screaming from the apartment, alone and scared. You have to prepare her for what's 'normal' for you.
"Edward, what's wrong?" She was trying to smooth out the crease on my forehead with her small, cool fingers.
That feels divine.
My eyes slid closed.
Maybe, if she charges me rent I can just take up residence here with her hands rubbing my forehead.
"Bella?" I said opening them once again.
"You need to know some more of my embarrassing stuff before you can spend the night."
"Anything, Edward."
I released a giant pent-up breath of tension. "I'll probably have to shower for a while before we go to bed to take care of things, so that I don't jump you once we lie down. Even then, with you so close and tempting, I'll probably sport another erection again within minutes. I'm not trying to be gross, or objectify you sexually. The damn thing just won't stay down. If I can't get the thing to listen to me, you may even, now get this, see me standing on a towel full of ice. Weird, huh? There's something about the extreme cold temperatures on the sensitive soles of the feet that trick my body into obedience. I try to use it as a last resort though. I'd rather will the thing away than trick it. Mind over matter seems more in control than ice cubes…" I trailed off for a moment, trying to gauge her reaction to this horrid confession of sexual depravity. Her eyes had perceptibly grown wider, but she seemed rather calm, so I felt brave enough to continue.
"I've only recently gotten a better handle on it when I'm alone. You are so sexy and sweet - even when you're not trying to be. I don't think that's sexual obsession speaking. Most of that, what I feel for you, is pure attraction to you. I've never wanted a woman as much as I want you. The other women I've been with have been like crackers and cheese when you are a lifetime buffet. Sorry, about the food analogy." She just smiled and let me continue.
"I could respond physically to them, but everything else about them annoyed me. It was like I knew I shouldn't be there, but I wanted to be normal and experience life. It didn't work, not at all. With you, I'm not constantly pushing aside disgust. I actually crave your personality, your sense of humor. You don't annoy or disgust me at all. That's not to say you can't irritate me, I'm sure you can. It just hasn't happened yet. And I'm sure when you do tick me off; it will be tempered with my real feelings of affection for you."
Bella had been quietly listening this whole time, allowing me to get all of that off my chest. Still looking at her, I saw nothing but eagerness to understand and silent acceptance of everything.
It actually feels okay to have her know this stuff. She hears what I think are the lowest, most vile things about me, and she just rubs my hand some more. How on earth did she get to be so selfless? It's like she's this giant heart wrapping me in exactly what I need.
"You probably could have told me all that sooner, you know. I know you were not ready, but I think I was," she said calmly, still rubbing my hand with her thumb and then continued after a moment.
"I know you said that this would have to be about me for the first part of things? But Edward, how can this not be about you, too? This is no longer a 'me' or 'you' thing. It's an us thing, right? We're in this together - no quitting on each other and no holding back any more. I think that would actually start to tick me off."
She's as fierce as you are about wanting full disclosure.
Full disclosure sucks.
Why can't I do this without revealing all the sordid details?
There's no way around it. You'll have to get there eventually.
Instead of bringing up the worst of it, I hugged her closer to me and tucked her head under my chin. She nuzzled her nose into my t-shirt and sighed. Bella shifted after a minute and tossed the pad of paper onto the cushion.
"While I hate to move, I really think I need to get up and stretch or something," she said tilting her head up towards me. I opened my arms, releasing her to get up and tend to things. She headed in the direction of the bathroom. I got up to walk around as well. I ended up seated on one of the barstool at her kitchen counter. After a few minutes, she walked out rubbing what I could only assume must be lotion into her hands. I swiveled around to face her when she walked up to me smelling wonderful.
"You know, Edward, I've always been rather fond of acronyms."
Here we go. Commence make out session number three, or is it four? Was the first kiss on her porch where I distracted her with talk about video games a make out session?
I was scratching my head trying to figure things out when she came to stand directly in front of me. With my feet hitched up on the rungs of the stool, I rested my back lightly against the kitchen counter. I surrendered both hands when she reached for them, and entwined our fingers palm to palm, bringing her between my knees. I winked at her, giving her our signal to start the festivities. She released my hands and I placed them on my thighs. She began by kissing my forehead, but this was unlike any chaste peck on the head I'd ever gotten. She was close, really close, her rounded breasts just a breath away from me. Her hands slid across my cheeks to thread through my hair. She tilted my head back slightly to get the angle right. And we were kissing; she was exploring every kind of kiss her brilliant mind could come up with. There was a small peck on the corner of my mouth. Another landed soft and flush against my upper lip.
Then she blew me away. She kissed my mouth open. I don't even know how she did that. Lightheaded and very aware of my pulse, what seemed like all the available blood in my body rushed to my groin. Mindless of her newfound skills, she was already distracted by full possession of my upper lip followed by my lower lip. I groaned and kissed her back, earnestly. Sitting was no longer an option. Chaste, partially open-mouthed kisses were no longer logical in this new world she had created. I stood up slowly, giving her time to absorb the change in our physical proximity.
She mewled an "Mmmm" sound and renewed her attentions with dedication. The tip of my tongue came out to gently taste her lower lip. I went back to kissing, changing the angle when necessary. I did it again, this time tasting her upper lip a little, coaxing her to consider this new step.
She pulled back a little to breathe, I think, and rested her cheek against mine. "I'm not done." she said, "So don't get any ideas about closing the candy store, okay?"
"Of course not," I murmured, inhaling the clean, warm smell emanated from her shiny brown hair. "We have an unlimited supply of candy."
I adjusted the fit of my jeans as discreetly as possible and rubbed my hands up and down her back. She took a step forward until her breasts were a soft pressure against my torso. Her feet in those red sandal things were right between my own well-worn Doc Marten shoes.
"I totally forgot to remind you about the safe word," I remembered out loud. A chuckle escaped me between kisses. "Did you even realize you called for the sheriff last time? You said 'constable' instead of 'custodian.' Even when distracted by something terrible you still manage to be…"
"Wrong? Forgetful?" she managed.
"Even your mistakes are clever." She rolled her eyes.
"So," she began slowly. "I think I have a solid understanding of a full body hug, but I wonder if my definition differs from yours," she finished.
"We get to embrace with more than just our arms," I supplied.
"Are we close to a full body hug like this?" she asked.
"We would have to line up a few more things," I hedged.
"Edward…."
"Bella….Who's coaching whom, huh?"
"You're not the coach. You can't make me run laps. You're my partner in crime. Just…I was going to say grab my ass!" Her head dipped down to rest on my chest. "I'm really glad I didn't blurt that out. That could have been disastrous." I felt like a fool, but oh, it was such a good feeling.
She took a deep breath and said rather quickly, "Do you want to try a gentle butt cupping?"
Neither of us could resist rolling our eyes at having to actually articulate what the average person simply does without words. At least we were still smiling despite the awkwardness of it all. I reached down and drew her hips into me, my hands on the highest part of her hips, barely on her butt at all. To my surprise, her small hands slid around to settle in the back pockets of my jeans. She bit her lip and looked up at me grinning. She ducked her head back down pressing her cheek to my heartbeat. We were close, very close. Too close to deny anything. I could feel my hardness nudging her belly. I wondered if she was embarrassed by her tightly pebbled nipples pressing into my chest. Angling my cheek to rest against her temple, I checked to feel if she was blushing.
Definitely warm. Fucking-A. She's probably warm all over the place right now.
I couldn't resist pulling her into me and sliding my hands down to her well-rounded ass, albeit very slowly. She tilted her head to the side a little, allowing me to inhale the fragrance of the skin on her neck. Pressing a hot kiss to the smooth column I was rewarded with a tightening of her arms around my back. He breasts were flattened against me now. I checked the fit of my arms and hugged her a little bit tighter. She burrowed her head a bit, finding the perfect spot for herself. I rested my head on top of hers and expelled a happy, but drained breath.
"Bella."
"Yes, hon?"
"How well does your ice maker work?"
"Like a charm," she smiled, and then she reached up and kissed me.
BPOV
I was just as relentlessly disciplined with him as he was with me. Even after my mini panic attack in the apartment on 'Olive Eve' as I was calling it in my head, he still made me tell those details about my dad. I was just as strict with him. He didn't use the ice at all after our FBH with trouser contact and butt touching. I did, however, leave the room, to let him work his mind over matter methodology without an audience. It had to be difficult to be different from everyone else without living in a fish bowl.
After about twenty minutes of what he later told me was mostly pacing, hair pulling, and amorous repellent imagery, he came to retrieve me from reading 'Last of the Mohicans' on my bed. I had gotten hot as the AC cycled off and removed the blue sweater. He took one look at me in that red lace camisole and said, "Be back in…ten minutes."
I fiddled with the thermostat, put the sweater back on, and met him in the other room at the appropriate on cue, my stomach started rumbling.
"I think my belly is making up new cuss words, we should go conquer some chicken."
My eyes grew really big as I slapped my hands over my mouth. Words of frantic apology tumbled out of my mouth, my hands raised in the air like a bad guy in a shoot out.
"That was totally a Freudian slip - I swear! I intended no cruel jokes about your chicken! Shit. I did it again." My eyelids squeezed closed, my fists rushed to press against the hollows of my eyes. "Quick! Make a croissant joke and we'll be even. Damn, I feel so mean, why are you laughing?"
He was okay, cracking up really. There was a second after I'd first said it that he looked like I'd punched him in the gut, but my genuine self-disgust with my foot-in-mouth disease was genuine enough to distract him from any kind of hurt feelings.
"Let's go eat," he said. "I have visions of biscuits with blackberry jam dancing in my head. If you don't like this place, it might be a deal breaker for us," he said with mock seriousness.
"Are these shoes okay?" I thought to ask at the last minute. He looked down, tilting his head to the side as he considered.
"Do you have any good walking shoes?"
Yes! There's my out. If Alice asks, I was just taking the advice of my much prepared boyfriend. Ha! Boyfriend. Take that, all you 'Dr. Frigid Naysayers'. How many Doctors told you to consider accepting your situation before you found Dr. Pfeiffer? Two…That would be two totally wrong misdiagnosing losers to add to your list of losers! Bella wins again.
Taking his hand, I led him over to my closet and showed him the lower racks filled with nothing but Vans, Converse, and cross trainers.
"Why the question about those red things? And why are those red things even on your feet in the first place given your…propensity for sneakers?" he asked with puzzlement.
"You just gave me 'my out' with my psychic friend, Alice. She actually had some kind of precognitive vision of this date. She knows what your ice cream parlor at Disneyland looks like, I think. She and I didn't know that the ice cream vision is further in the future."
"It's called, 'Burrrrrbank Ice Cream." He shivered charmingly while explaining.
"Does the place have fifties-style seating?" I asked. "Alice could draw you a picture of the tables with metal sides or something…"
He looked enormously surprised – shocked even. "Yes, it does. The attraction, because this ice cream stand is an attraction in the park, is not far from the entrance to California Adventure. I think they pump the smell of waffle cones from hidden vents. Anyhow, it looks like a train car that has been plunked off the tracks and dropped into the park. It's one of those diner train cars."
I sat down and unwound the satin straps from the red espadrilles. Choosing a pair of white Nike sneakers and a pair of low ankle socks, I got my feet ready to go. My stomach rumbled threateningly.
It didn't take long to throw a pair of pajamas and a tooth brush into a knapsack for our sleepover later. At the last second, I scurried back into the main room and grabbed the notepad, shoving it into my bag. He grabbed the leftover muffins, the wrapped 'flowers', the backpack, and we were on our way. We were in his car, heading down the 5 freeway with the windows cracked when I figured out what was in the torturously wrapped package.
"It's a Georgia O'Keeffe print, isn't it?" I said finally.
"You still don't know which picture I chose or what flower. I have the flower meaning too, just like last time."
"What made you decide to change your flower MO?"
He laughed. "I seriously don't think one arrangement and a picture gives me a flower modus operandi." His voice lovingly clung to those delicate syllables.
Oh my gosh. Heat just descended into the spot between my legs! I have to get him to say more stuff in Latin. This is as good as when he was talking about getting into my panties at the chicken place.
Trying to sound blithely calm and random, I asked, "Did you take Latin in high school or something? Your pronunciation is dead on."
"I was premed for a semester before I decided I wanted to build things instead. Latin was one of those prerequisite courses."
"Can you say something else for me in Latin?"
He thought for a moment and then a small smile peeked out before he quickly squashed it. His lip was twitching a little bit - that was his 'tell'. I saved that detail for later.
He pronounced the phrase slowly for me: "Ad praesens ova cras pullis sunt meliora."
My entire body just tightened and now something just clenched. Holy Hell, if he finds out about this, the balance of power will never shift back to my corner again!
Don't say it, Bella. Don't!
I have to hear it again! Shut up.
"Again," I sighed, crossing my legs the other way and pressing a hand between my knees.
He repeated the phrase, this time watching me as he said it.
"What does it mean?"
"Eggs today are better than chickens tomorrow. It's the origin for a colloquial saying…rather like the one that goes, 'A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.'"
I didn't hear the rest of what he said because I was laughing as soon as I heard him say 'chickens'. The rest of what he explained sounded like inane mutterings with the last word being 'bush'. It took me a while to get over that one.
"I love that you can say corny things in Latin."
"I think it's just one more thing that makes me odd, really."
"Odd? Why do you think of yourself as strange?" I asked.
"Bella, I am strange. Not only that, my whole family is a little off." He listed a few things in rapid succession, which added together, did sound awfully strange. "There are two doctors in the family, both of whom work in the field of sex therapy. We also have a soon-to-be pregnant female mechanic and occasional racecar driver, and both Emmett and I are adopted. My mom does interior designing for celebrity clients - which makes for some horrendously weird stories. I'm a sexually insatiable male to top everything off. By themselves, each thing is not really such a big deal. Add them all together, and it's a bit overwhelming."
"So why were you premed for only a semester?"
"It took me that long to realize that I didn't need to be the third doctor in the family, and I've always loved building blocks and Tonka trucks…Building things sounded so much more fun. There's something else about me that is usually a complication," he continued.
I reached over and took his clenched hand from the gear shift.
Good grief! How much must one guy have to endure? I hope this isn't too much more of a stress on him.
We had been making good time on our drive and were almost to Buena Park. A few more turns after exiting the freeway, he pulled the car into a space after paying the parking attendant. He got out to open my door, and then locked up. Holding my hand and walking towards the underground pedestrian ramp he said, "You know my last name, you've been calling me by that name since the coffee shop. My great-great-grandparents were old money tracing back to the industrial revolution with steel and transportation."
At the look on my face, he said, "It gets worse, just wait. Already sinfully wealthy, my biological father invested in Silicon Valley real estate in the early 70's. There wasn't much out there back then. I don't even know why he chose that area to buy up land. When they both died in a car accident, Carlisle and Esme, then my godparents, adopted me. Since I joined the Cullen family, that real estate has gone into overdrive. I'm one of the wealthiest real estate landowners in Southern California, and I'm only twenty-six." We crossed a small road and got into line behind about forty other people waiting to eat at Knott's Chicken Dinner Restaurant.
"Hey! 'Sixteen Candles' does not predate your existence! If you're twenty-six, then you were born in 1983. I happen to know that 'Sixteen Candles'is a masterpiece from 1984, so technically you were a drooling baby. You could have even seen that movie in a baby carrier and not even know it! You owe me at least a nickel for that slipup, Masen. Shit! You're rich… I want a quarter! Pffft…." And with that, I burst into giggles.
"You're totally nuts, you know that don't you?" he asked, looking inordinately pleased for some reason. "You're still going to make me watch that red-headed nightmare of a film, aren't you?"
"Hey! How do you know the main character has red hair?"
He had that deer-in-the-headlights look, like he'd just royally screwed up and knew it. "I may have seen parts of it." His voice was rather sheepish when he admitted this.
"May have?" I raised my eyebrows at him. "Spill it, Masen."
"Okay. Okay. It's one of my sister-in-law's favorite movies of all time," He muttered, looking very guilty.
"You're just racking up the consequences at this point, Masen. I'm not even sure when I'm going to say your first name again. We might have to go back to your surname indefinitely."
His face looked so deliciously tortured, so horribly low, like I'd just stolen his Tonka Truck and told him he couldn't melt G.I. Joe dolls in the back yard anymore.
"Hey, Masen," I said, beginning his punishment.
"Yes, Bella." He sighed, sounding put out.
"Did you ever play with G.I. Joe dolls when you were a kid?"
He turned to face me. We were about half way to the hostess' stand. "I played with many things as a child. Among them were G. I. Joe Action Figures. I did not, however, play with dolls. Those were a little bit before my time, but I had an older cousin who used to bring them over. Eventually I received a few of my own as gifts."
"I have a question about your doll playing." He looked seriously frustrated by my insistence on calling them dolls. He even crossed his arms and pressed his lips together in a man-pout.
"Go ahead, Bella."
"Does every boy bury his G.I. Joe dolls in a trench and light them on fire? I've been slowly researching this through the years and it seems to be some kind of guy rite-of-passage."
He didn't answer. We had made our way up to the hostess stand. A teenage girl in a long prairie dress, her hair in braids, led us to a table by a window. We sat down and began to peruse the menu. I set my menu on the table, letting him know he could order the famous chicken thing for me. I wasn't going to come to the chicken dinner place and then eat meatloaf.
"Masen."
"Yes, Bella."
"How many melted G. I. Joe's did you have?"
He was saved from answering yet again as the server came and took our drink orders. Edward told me that I might want to try the berry punch. When I asked him if it was very sweet, he replied in the affirmative, so instead I ordered regular iced tea. Returning with our drinks and a basket of steaming, still stuck-together biscuits, the server efficiently took our order and moved on to the next table of guests.
Edward had held on to his answer during the entire Q & A with the ordering. He returned to my question, saying, "Probably five or so. I still have them."
"You still have them??!" I exclaimed in disbelief, slathering a biscuit with blackberry jam. "Wow. Can I…uh? Well, could you show them to me sometime?"
"I don't have them here; they're at my parent's home, of course."
"Oh, well naturally, Masen."
The server returned in what seemed like no time at all with two huge platters of fried golden chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy. Both hungry, we dug into the food with unabashed greediness.
Pausing between bites, he asked me a question that shocked me with its sneaky intuitiveness, "If I say something in Latin again, will you stop calling me by my last name?"
Uh-oh, Bella. You totally outed yourself in the car. Doh! Asking him to repeat that phrase was a huge no-no. All you can do at this point is barter like a woman with eight starving children.
"That depends on how many Latin phrases I get in return for dropping the ban on your first name."
The chicken was really good, fried to a crisp, and not super greasy. Tearing off and discarding a hunk of skin, I devoured a piece of succulent white meat. He was chewing as well, so I had to wait for him to finish a bite.
"Is there a time window on these Latin phrases? I have to think about them. The one I used before, I had memorized, and it stuck with me. I can't just rattle them off."
"Hmmm," I said considering. "Let's just keep it to however many you can give me during the rest of the day. If I'm genuinely impressed, I'll drop the ban."
That ought to do it. We both win. He gets my approval – which is guaranteed, and I get to hear more of his velvety sex voice.
"You're on. I'm going to kick serious Latin butt," he said with a casual tone of voice and flashing green eyes. I just rolled my eyes at him and began using one of the little lemon-scented wet naps to clean my chicken hands.
AN: I don't know why this chapter is so long. Maybe it's because…Edward is insane and wanted some kind of super date. I got them through lunch at least. Now I'm off to go research Latin phrases. Thanks for sticking with my story.