A/N: Unbeta'd as usual. Everyone wants Lee floating face down in the Atlantic, yes? Good, because that means I'm writing her right. Lol
Prompt: relinquish
BPOV
I leave him standing in the doorway and sit down on the top step of the deck. Within seconds he's settling in next to me. The breeze blows my hair back and I take a deep breath of ocean air. The moon is bright against the darkness of the water and the waves are crashing loudly against the shore. It reminds me of the first night I saw Edward. The music is still filtering through the outdoor speakers - something mellow and slow. I wish I could freeze this moment.
"You really love the beach, don't you?"
I turn to him and realize that he must have been watching me the whole time.
"I do, yeah. We used to take road trips all the time when I was younger, but now I'm so far from it. I probably only see it once a year. You're lucky to have this in your backyard."
He smiles and looks out at the water.
"I don't think I could ever live anywhere else."
The music changes and I strain to hear the familiar beat of the song. When the words about lying in a bed and hearing a clock tick begin, I laugh a little and turn to him.
"Cyndi Lauper?"
He rolls his eyes and smiles as he rubs his cheek across the sleeve of his t-shirt over his shoulder. I remember the rough and soft of it against my skin and nearly shiver.
"Rosalie's a music snob. Hates Top Forty and pretty much all pop music except for old shit like this. And a lot of indie stuff. She makes these random play lists for parties."
He shrugs and takes a drink from his beer. The white label on the neck of the bottle against the pink of his lips causes me to lick my own. The shine left on his mouth makes my fingers twitch. I want to touch him so badly.
"Listen, I'm sorry you had to hear that earlier."
He sets the bottle down on the step between his feet and clasps his hands together. His elbows are propped up, one on each knee and he drops his head down. When he lifts his face a little to look at me, I remember that I should probably respond.
"Don't worry about it. It's not your fault."
"Lee is...difficult about some things. It's not without reason, but she had no right to say what she did about you and I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing, really. I'm not upset about it."
He doesn't look very placated, but nods anyway. I decide to lighten the mood, so I move to bump his shoulder with my own. At the same time he turns to say something to me but his words die off when our faces end up about two inches apart. We both freeze and I really, really hope I don't have funky beer breath because there's no way he can't smell it right now. His eyes drop to my mouth so I look down at his. I wonder if that drop of Stella is still there and what it tastes like mixed with him. I'm not sure who starts it, but we're both leaning in now. He tilts his head just a fraction and the intent in the small movement gives me goosebumps. He's gonna kiss me. I swallow and close my eyes and then-
"NO SLEEP TIL..."
Guitar chords rip into the silence of the moment and my eyes fly open. I jerk back and stand when Edward jumps to his feet and heads in the house mumbling under his breath.
"Fucking Rosalie..."
The song stops and a moment later is replaced by something upbeat, but much calmer than The Beastie Boys. Edward comes back outside, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. We look at each other, stay straight faced for about two seconds and then bust out laughing. I'd love nothing more than to have it back, but the moment is over. Even without being here, Rosalie was able to ruin it.
He walks closer to me once our laughs have faded to just smiles. Picking up the volleyball on the chair beside him, he tosses it back and forth from palm to palm.
"You any good with that thing?"
I never did get to see him play...
He smiles wickedly at me but doesn't answer and realization dawns on me.
"I meant the ball, jackass!"
He laughs and brushes past me as he walks down the steps and into the sand below.
"I do okay."
I follow him down and over to the net that's set up several feet away from the deck. We're in almost the exact spot I saw him standing in while talking to skanks one and two last weekend. He stops with his back to the net and turns to watch as I approach him. The wind blows my skirt tight against the front of my thighs. He notices. I stop right in front of him and he looks down at me with a small smile.
"Have you ever played before?"
I shake my head no and he walks around to stand directly behind me. My breath hitches when I feel him take a step closer. The wind blows again, sweeping my hair over my left shoulder and leaving the right side of my face exposed. Edward leans his mouth down until it's just next to my right ear. His words are barely louder than a whisper and his breath is warm over the flesh of my cheek and jaw.
"My favorite part about the game is the serve."
His words are innocent, but the husky way he speaks them sparks a warmth in me.
"Are you right handed?"
I nod and exhale shakily as the fingertips of his left hand touch just below my left elbow and slide down the back of my forearm. He wraps his hand around my wrist and lifts it until my arm is extended straight out in front of me. His command is a gentle whisper.
"Open your hand for me."
I uncurl my fingers. Without releasing my wrist, he lifts his right arm and places the volleyball in my open left palm. The action causes his chest to press into my back and the pressure and warmth are delicious. When he's sure I won't drop the ball, he lets it go.
"Now, you want your left leg here," He reaches down and gently nudges the back of my knee with a stroke of his thumb, guiding it a step ahead of my right leg in the sand.
"Keep your weight on your right leg."
I do as he says and he resumes his original position behind me. Lining his left arm up just beneath my left one, he places his palm flat against the back of my hand and his fingers against the back of mine to help me support the weight of ball. He lifts my right hand so that it's just beneath the volleyball and my breath quickens as he softly coaxes my fingers into a fist.
"Tightly."
Placing my balled fist just beneath the ball and our joined hands, he brings his mouth closer and I'm not sure if I imagine the brush of his lip on my earlobe or not. His shoulders close in around me and at some point, his necklace must have slipped from beneath his shirt. I can feel the coolness of the pendant pressed against the back of my bare shoulder.
"Before you can serve, it's all about your stance. Focus on your form. And not just your arms. You have to put your whole body into it. "
I couldn't move if I tried and it's the last thing I'd attempt to do anyway. The music from the speakers changes again. It's a slow, bluesy ballad. I've never heard it before, but it's suddenly my favorite song in the whole world. This time, I know I don't imagine the way his lip grazes my earlobe.
"Your delivery takes a lot of practice to get right. You have to know how hard or soft to hit it."
Oh my God.
Slowly, I tilt my head to the left. He reads my cue right and presses his left cheek against my right one. I decide to relinquish my self-control and sag back against him. In an instant, the fingers of his left hand link through mine and the volleyball falls to the sand. Our fingers lace together and he slowly brings both of our arms to rest across the front of my stomach. His right hand comes up to cup the left side of my face and I close my eyes when I finally have both of his arms around me. He turns my face to the side and tilts my chin up. When I open my eyes, he smiles like it's the first time he's ever seen me.
"You need to stop me if you don't want this, because that's my play list. The Beastie Boys aren't gonna interrupt again."
I laugh lightly and he smiles, but then looks at my mouth again and sobers.
"I really, really don't want to kiss your cheek right now."
I can't stand it anymore. I reach my hand up and pull him by the back of the neck while lifting up on my toes. We both part our lips a little before they touch and finally...finally I'm tasting him. It's warm and wet and little Stella. He makes a sound that's kind of a moan and kind of a sigh of relief. I swallow it and turn in his arms, still on my tip toes. He wraps an arm around my waist, holding me a couple of inches above my height as we learn one another this way. His fingertips slides up my jaw and into the hair at the base of my head. Goosebumps. He presses them into the back of my neck slightly while his thumb strokes across my jawline. It all causes my head to tilt back further and I moan when the tip of his tongue reaches in to tease my own.
The kiss deepens and eases over and over until I'm slowly lowered back onto my feet. My hands are fisted into both sides of his shirt just over his ribs. One of his hands is buried in the hair at the base of my neck and the other is resting on my hip. When we break away, we're both breathless and near panting. He blinks down at me and I want to do the moonwalk because I'm pretty sure I just kissed Edward Cullen senseless. The victory dance will have to wait though, because he ain't too shabby either and I'm completely boneless. Taking a deep breath, I somehow manage to form a few words.
"Okay, I admit it. You're smooth."
And then, for the second time since we've officially met, it happens again. He throws his head back and laughs. It's loud and real and for me. I get to feel the vibrations of it against my chest.
And when he's finished, I get to taste the smile that I put on his lips.
.
.
.
*hangs panties from volleyball net and collapses in the sand*
I have a fascination with the way Stella bottles look. Can you tell? Also, this is the first kiss I've ever written, so be genteel with my virgin pucker. Wait...
'Time After Time' by Cyndi Lauper plays first.
'No Sleep Till Brooklyn' by The Beastie Boys interrupts them.
'Into The Ocean' by Blue October is what Edward plays after they're interrupted.
'Try Me' by James Brown is what's playing when they kiss. (OMG THIS SONG OMG)
~jada~