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Chapter 10

"What's that?" Edward asks, as hushed as a whisper, while he drives the car along after picking me up from school. I knew what he was hinting at, the second he mentioned it.

My hand.

On my palm, was a roughly scribbled down cell phone number in blue ballpoint pen. I pull my sleeve down over it to cover it more. Only, I knew it was too late. He had already seen it with his eyes himself. Who knows what he'll say about it, or how he'll take it?

The phone number in question, belonged to a boy. His name is Jacob. I met him this lunch break today, and he said he thought I was cute, and that I should consider calling him so that we could talk and get to know one another. I found it very flattering a guy, like him, would ever call me that. Cute, good-looking...

Alice and I were sitting on the bleachers, letting the sunrays soak up and warm our skins, reading a gossip magazine Alice had brought along with us. Only, her concentration was on everything else but that magazine, because Jasper Hale, the school quarterback and her crush, was out in the green rectangular field, practising football. He would muck around with another one of the players, tackling him, laughing and smiling, and shaking off his sweat covered blond hair.

I wasn't really interested in other boys at school. No one at all, really. But then, he caught my eye.

He was running and jumping over the hurdles in the marathon lane, and he was sprinting so fast, it was awe-inspiring. He had closely cropped, dark hair, and he was wearing a sleeveless grey T-shirt, which was damp with sweat, and showed off his toned and tanned arms something wonderful. It wasn't often I found a guy cute, or even found myself wondering what it would be like to date them; I was much more focused on school work, than dating, or anything like that.

Plus, I had a bad experience and learned from it with the boy I had a crush on a few years back; Michael Newton tonguing Jessica Stanley in the hallway, when it was probably obvious to him I'd liked him, and learned that relationships at my age in high school never seemed to last. I think I just had bad luck with most boys in general, so I forced myself into not liking anyone.

But, with this Jacob boy, I did. He was very cute.

As he jogged back, he looked right at me while doing it. His eyes were a nice deep dark brown, and his smile. Whoa, his smile was something else entirely. When he started up to our direction, breathing heavily to catch his breath, he smiled at me. It was a big, radiantly white smile that had my stomach fluttering, in butterflies or something similar to it.

"Hi," he had said, once he crossed the distance and kneeled down near where Alice and I were sitting, fingers resting on his knees and back hunched, while he breathed and breathed.

His face was bathed in a clear, shiny sheen of sweat, but it did not detract, at all. He had a light amount of dark stubble on his chin, and his teeth were so nice and white. He was kind of pretty- in an entirely masculine way, of course.

"Hi," I muttered back, shyly.

"Hi Jacob," Alice said to him distractedly, curling a strand of hair around her finger, while she kept her eyes on Jasper Hale out on the field. She knew him from Chemistry class, I think. He was her classmate.

He nodded to her curtly, then sat next to me, bringing his arms over his knees, paying me more attention than Alice. It was a little surprising. I would get boys saying that Alice was prettier than me all the time, so I expected him to be the same.

Only, he was staring right at me intently, while his breathing calmed.

"Have you been at this school all this time?" he asked, a little breathlessly. His voice was very low-pitched.

My cheeks flushed for some reason. "Yes, I have. Why do you ask?"

"Because..." He trailed off meaningfully, leaning over closer to me. His sweaty lycra covered knee knocked into mine, and I sucked my breath in. Usually, a boy wasn't so keen on invading into my personal space. Edward, an exception. "Surely, I would have noticed you. Right?"

I opened my mouth to speak, feeling redder by the instance, as I peered down at what his leg was doing, jiggling back and forth against mine, but then Alice was cutting in, boredly.

"That is because, Jacob, Bella isn't an attention-grabber like the other girl's at this school. She's a good girl." I grimaced at her off-hand comment, a little embarrassed. Way to make an impression, Alice. Now what must he think of me?

He must think I'm this boring, goody-two-shoes, or something now.

"Nah, I don't think that's it," he disagreed brazenly, smiling at me so wide. I didn't know why he was looking at me the way he was, so interested and eager for some reason, but he just was. And then, it was then, he had blurted it out, so quickly and confidentially in my ear, it had me bursting with joy. He leaned over, until he was fanning hot breaths in my right ear, "That's crazy. I don't think that's it," he muttered, "Because you're too cute not to notice."

I had smiled, a little weakly, when he pulled back to meet my eyes, his dark ones glinting in squinted playfulness.

"I'm not cute," I had batted his comment away, self-consciously. My cheeks were flaming.

"Yeah, you are. I think you're cute, anyway."

He shrugged, and the bulging bicep muscle on his arm rippled something eye-catching. I couldn't seem to look away from those tanned and toned arms, then. He was so... appealing to the eye. Especially, that fit body. You could tell he put in a lot of time and effort in working out.

He clicked his fingers together, then he slumped over to one side on the bleachers, digging one of his hands into the pocket at the side of his lycra shorts. It was then, he had produced a ball-point pen, and had wiggled his dark eyebrows at me, playfully, teasingly.

"How about I give you my number, and then maybe... if you want, no pressure, you could give me a call, and we could talk?"

I was seriously stunned, as I held out my hand to him, open and palm facing forward, for him to write it down. My mouth was probably gaping open-and-shut, like a fish out of water over it.

I had to try my very hardest not to laugh, when he started writing his digits on the fleshy part of my palm. It had tickled. Once he was finished, he had placed the lid of the pen in his mouth, and had started sucking it, clicking it against his teeth gently, like it were hard candy.

"Hoping to hear from you, then," he said, voice sort of muffled from the cap in his mouth.

And then, with a meaningful little wink at me, which had me writhering with excitement to start gushing it to Alice once he was gone and out of earshot, he stood and jogged back over to the set of hurdles, with a confident bounce to his run.

I smile to myself a little bit, at the memory of what happened this lunch break.

After he had returned, fully focused on his running, Alice and I had turned to each other silently, wearing both the same mirrored expressions on our faces; Awe, surprise, and most especially, excitement.

We couldn't stop gushing about it, even in class. We wrote notes in biology, keeping our eyes trained on the teacher in case he caught us.

He hadn't caught us jotting down notes secretly, which was fortunate, because it spared us the mortification of having to read the notes to the entire class. The whole class would have laughed at us, and then the teacher would have shook his head and tisked his tongue at us, disappointment etching on his haggard face.

Alice told me I had to call him tonight, soon as I got home from school, otherwise he would get the wrong impression and would immediately assume I didn't like him. No if's, or buts, about it.

But how could I possibly do that now, when Edward knows about it? I was positive he was going to give me grief about it.

I turn to steal a quick peek over at him, but I can't really tell what he is feeling, or thinking, about it.

Maybe he doesn't even care? Maybe I'm just making a ridiculously big deal over it? Hope so.

As Edward slows the car down a bit, and turns a tight corner, he turns to look at me. I assess him with my eyes quickly. There is no give-away of any emotion. How he's feeling in regards to it, is completely unfathomable. But then, his eyebrows raise a fraction.

I think he's asking me, with his look alone, to explain more. So, I do.

"It's just a friend's phone number," I tell him, quietly. "They asked me to call them tonight, but I didn't have their number, so they wrote it down for me." Oh, boy. Do I sound too suspicious, too eager to explain to lessen whatever mood he will be in?

I fold my hands in my lap, twiddling my fingers around, pretending they are so darn interesting.

"Just a friend?" he repeats, equally as quiet as I was. "Which friend, Bella? Male, or female?"

My eyes close, as I catch the lilt of soft sarcasm in his voice, as well as a tinge of humour. Is he finding this funny? Maybe I don't need to worry, after all.

"A boy," I answer, a little reluctant, because I don't know what he'll think.

Especially after what happened so uncomfortably that night, how he was shooting his mouth off almost relentlessly, with all these crazy words about liking me, and getting me alone, and maybe having the chance to touch me now...

Lifting my gaze, I turn to look at him for the briefest of a second, judging, before turning my head in the direction of my window. Outside, everything is fast swirling colors of green, from the trees, a cloudy grey, from the overcast sky. I think it'll rain this afternoon, I can feel it. He's driving his car faster than I realized, you can't much focus on one thing of the scenery before it goes blurring past your eyes.

"Now, that's what I thought." He says, after a while. His voice drops so low, I definitely can't decipher what he feels about this. A flicker of shame flares through me, but I didn't know why. Why should I feel bad? I told him I could never see him in that way, only he didn't listen. What does he expect? He says, in a much brighter, louder tone, that frightens me a little, "Put your hand on my leg."

I dart him a confused, questioning look. "What? Why?"

I didn't want to put my hand someplace on him I didn't want it to be, but he was just so adamant on it. He tells me to do it, again and again, until I finally give in. My hand is trembling, as I reluctantly relent, placing it on the leg closest to arm's reach. He is so warm. His trousers are so warm and a slippery silk.

He slides a hand off the steering wheel, and for a moment, my heart races in fear. With his fingers, he slides the sleeve of my jacket up over my wrist, and turns my hand over gently, with rough, calloused fingertips.

He looks down at Jacob's messily scribbled phone number briefly, and then brings his eyes up to the road to concentrate on driving, and keeping the car in line with the double white lines of the highway. I don't know what he's thinking at all.

"Do you like him?" he asks desperately, completely out of the blue. "You want to date him, and kiss him?"

"Yes, I think so." I go to move my hand out of the way, only he does something that both shocks me and disgusts me, rendering me completely still; He cups his hand over his mouth, spits in it, and then brings it down, rubbing his wet saliva coated hand up and over my hand and the digits disturbingly.

I can't believe what he's doing. Why spit on your hand? But then, I get it.

"No boys," he spits out bitterly, rubbing and rubbing incessantly. He turns his head to look over at me, and he is definitely angry in me. The nostrils are flaring, the eyes are pinched and furious. "I don't want to hear anything about it, Bella. I don't want you calling anyone, whether they be your gender, or otherwise!"

I'm completely stunned. "I'm allowed to call or see who I want to see, Edward. It's none of your business!"

"Oh, I think it is," he argues, his voice shaking. "Bella, I'm trying to take care of you, you're my responsibility now. If you haven't noticed, I've been buying food and stocking the refridgerator at home, because half of the things Ma brought are rotting now. I pick you up from school every afternoon, make sure you get home safely. The least you can do, is show me a little bit of respect here."

My mouth drops open. "Respect?" Grunting to make my disgust known, I pull my hand free and start wiping it off frantically. His spit. On my skin. Jacob's number a smudge of ink. Ugh. "Maybe if you treated me with some respect, I would show you the same in consideration!"

He laughs at my words. It isn't a very friendly sound at all. "I don't respect you?" There is singing outrage in his voice, hysterical disbelief. "I don't push you into anything, I don't touch you because I know you don't want me to. I don't force you into bed with me. Does that not sound like respect, to you?" He just keeps going on and on. It's enough to make me want to turn irrationally violent. "I make sure you get to school, because I know education is vital for a girl your age, and that you'll benefit from it. I make sure there's food so you won't starve, when you get hungry. I think that's a lot more respect than what you show me, Bella."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," I sigh, in irritation. And, still... he keeps at it.

"I'm good to you, aren't I?" He's hurt. Great, I've definitely hurt him, and how? "I'm not asking for much in return, Bella. Just that you respect me, you obey what I say and listen, and show me a little bit of affection, every now and then. It wouldn't hurt you any."

Whoa, now.

"Affection?" I hiss. I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs. Or hitting something, even. The man is just so... irritating to me. So hard to get along with, and so confusing. I don't think that'll ever change. "What are you even talking about?"

At my question, he looks just as uncomfortable as I feel. But for an entirely different reason altogether. He opens his mouth, about to say it, and looks over at me, meaningfully. And then, his mouth closes, and he can't seem to say it.

But then, his hand covers over my kneecap and he squeezes gently, and it's enough for me. Enough to understand what he is hinting at, enough to make sense of it all.

Actions speak louder than words, and what this tells me, is just... wrong.

"What?" I breathe out, feeling helpless and defeated. "You want me to show you affection? What is that?" Oh, god. I feel like I'm going to be sick. This can't be happening. This cannot be what he expects from me, please!

"I just want a little affection sometimes," he says, so quietly, it comes out a deep rumble. "A little appreciation for my efforts here. These past few weeks have been very hard, but we've managed to pull through, haven't we? I've been taking good care of you, haven't I?" He strokes my knee with his hand, but I shiver, because I don't care for his comfort at all. "It's all I ask, Bella, that's it." His voice trembles with heavy emotion. "Just to let me touch you every once in a little while. I'm feeling totally deprived here, and it's driving me crazy!"

I honestly don't think I can do it, I just can't. I can't go through with what he's asking me, because... I just can't. It's too hard, and he both simultaniously scares me and unnerves me, all at the same time. As well as ellicits some type of sad, desperate sympathy from me.

I peer down at his hand, which has found a somewhat startling place over my knee, long fingers curled and picking the material of my school trousers.

Could it be so hard just to give in, and give him what he wants every once in a while? Surely, he just expects a brief touch of the hand, or a hand rub. That's it, right?

So, with a fixed resolve, I go to touch his hand. It rests illy on his large and warm one, small fingers to his knuckles, for about half a second, until the funny feelings gurgle in my stomach; Feelings of unwant, and unease.

He turns his face toward me, and he's actually smiling mildly over it. The happiness that radiates off every inch of him, is suffocating.

"See, Bella, it's not so hard, is it?"

Maybe to stress his point, he lifts his arm and catches my chin in between his thumb and forefinger, and pinches a little bit, gently. It's a bit like how I'd seen his mother touch him, full of tenderness and adoration.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes out, sounding awed and in wonder, all at the same time.

But it's too much. I can't deal with it.

Forcing a smile on my stiff lips, I wrap my hand over his wrist, and pull it down and away from my chin. I'm reeling, both sick and panicky.

I had a feeling now, this will make things change; The smallest amount of time I allowed him touch me, and me touch him a little in return, will alter things between us forever. He'll think it's acceptable to do... more, I just know it.

And, I was dreading the instance we got home, because of it. Who knows, if he'll enter my room indefinitely this time tonight for some more... affection.

While he had been good to me ever since that night, where he told me all those weird things; By never bringing it up, because I would get angry and near-to-tears, and he could see that, in which, he would deliberately stop talking about it because of the extreme reactions it would bring out of me, and keep his distance.

He gave me my personal space. He let me stay in my room and gave me the freedom to stay in there away from him for hours, and he never did come in thankfully. He never tried to touch me again after that night, or say anything strange.

And, it was nice, however brief it lasted.

Because now, it was all definitely gone. I could feel things were about to change. All those moments of respecting my privacy, my personal space, everything, were about to be disregarded, all because I let him touch me, and me touch him unwillingly, in return.

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Until next update x