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Author's Note: Firstly, everyone knows that I changed my pen name, hopefully. Also, please check my profile for a new poll, as well as news and story updates. Also, I have added a few new sections. I have a list of links for role play sites, fan sites, my official MySpace, my account, as well as my account, which is still under my original pen name, Juliett Dawson. Please come and check it out!
The sequel to Beauty and the Geek, Reasons To Be Missed, is finally here! Let me know what you think! But if you have not read Beauty and the Geek, the entire first chapter of the sequel is a spoiler, so be cautious!
Elevators, Blackouts, and Strangers
Chapter 11- Rants and Regret
Bella
"Oh god, Alice, you should have read it. I was so mean to the poor guy, and he apologized and everything...I'm such a jerk." I said as I sank deeper into the couch. With Rosalie on bartender duty this evening, Alice would have to be the only person I would torture with my rants and regrets tonight. However, being the selfless, and genuine person that she was she did not even seem disturbed by it in the slightest. Many lesser friends would have told me to get over it hours ago, but not Alice. She listened to every word I said, and consoled me with the utmost sincerity
"Don't be so hard on yourself Bells, he probably knows that you weren't angry with him, just misunderstanding of what he meant. He did apologize, which means he cares about what you think of him. If he didn't think of you highly, then he would not care. If he did not care, then he would have been defensive rather than apologetic." Alice responded as she sat back down on the couch with blanket in hand. Setting our glasses of wine down on the end tables, we spread out the comforter, curled our legs underneath us, and returned the glasses back to our hands, and then to our lips.
It had been three hours since I left the office, and still my face burned red with embarrassment and guilt. All Edward had tried to do was to be friendly, and to win my respect. Instead of giving him a chance at friendship like a normal person would, I had to be mean. I had to beat him down, accuse him of being a stereotype that he was nothing less than the exact opposite of, and he still did not hate me. I did not deserve this kindness from him. He should have been defensive; but if he was defensive, in Alice's perspective, it would be because he didn't care—could that make any sense at all in this bizarre world of mine?
Looking to Alice with confusion creasing my forehead, I tried to grasp what my analysis meant. I knew that my theories were not as good as they seemed when even I, the person who created them, was confused and in little understanding of them.
"I don't get it." I said. Twisting her small frame toward me, the pixie sipped from the scarlet liquid and tuned her attention to me.
"Alright. Let me make this sound easier. Okay, if he didn't care what you think about him, do you think he would apologize?" She asked me.
"No." I answered meekly, like a child trying to get a sense of understanding on a subject far too advanced for its years.
" Exactly. Which means that even though you think you offended him, he still wants your respect, or more even." I shot her a look. She ignored me, and continued. "Can't you see Bella? He just wants to make you comfortable, and for you to like him. Chances are, he thinks you were completely rational. Which is strange in itself." Alice teased with a small smile, and I gave her a soft, playful punch to the shoulder.
"I'm weird, I know. Do you really think so, or are you just trying to make me feel better?" I asked seriously.
"If I didn't, I wouldn't have said anything. You know that I am brutally honest, especially when it is for your own good."
"Thanks Alice. I don't know what I would do without you and Rose."
"You don't have to thank me, I am happy to do it. You would do the same for me and Rosalie; it's our jobs to keep each other sane. Or at least close to it, anyway." She murmured into her glass. She had never quite gotten past the blond man she crashed into on the subway, and the thought of her never seeing him again, 'cheating' as he had been, was slowly driving her mad. She liked to be in control, hated surprises, and especially hated not knowing what may, or may not happen. Alice was the sort of person who loved to be in the know, and needed to know everything in order to function properly.
I hugged her tightly, and turned toward the TV. We had given up on renting movies, nothing seemed quite right. We flipped around the channels, finally settling on a re-run of Friends. With the plot already known to us, we gabbed about their hair styles, and how awesome their apartment was. In a way, we sort of compared ourselves to the characters in the sitcom. There was Phoebe, the strangest, least conventional one in the group who reminded me instantly of Alice. There was Rachel, the pretty, popular one who had fantastic hair, and a great sense of fashion. Then there was Monica; the obsessive compulsive one who could cook, and had perhaps the most relationship problems of the group. It was easy enough to detect who we thought her counterpart was. Me.
Of course, the only thing missing were the guys. That was always the case. Men were always missing from our lives, but when several were thrown at us, we had no way to handle them. I guess it was simply bad luck or timing that I was now surrounded by Edward, the window-washing Jacob, and Alice's experiences with the blond man and the man who she described as being twice as big as he should be, and then of course Rosalie's experiences with Dickwad and Friend of Dickwad.
So was our luck. Most of it contributed by me. With my lack of coordination, came a lack of anything coming easily in life.
Hours passed with the ending of several shows and movies, and the monotony of time passing ended with the opening of the front door, and our blond room mate stepping through the door.
"Hey Rose." We answered in unison. "How was work?" I asked.
"Pretty uneventful really. Except for this one guy..." Alice's ears perked up at the mention of the opposite sex, and she sat up quickly on her knees, as if her posture affected her hearing.
"A guy?" She said. "Who is he? What happened?" We slid over to make room for Rosalie on the couch, and poured her a glass of wine. Rose slipped underneath the comforter, laid on her back, and rested her legs on the armrest above her head. In this awkward position she gave her account of the man she had seen at New Moon earlier that evening.
"First off, I don't like the guy or anything, not in that way. He was just really sweet, that's all." She began.
"Stop explaining what we don't know yet, just tell us what happened!" Alice pressed for information. This was the sort of thing she lived for; juicy gossip involving a straight, cute man that she could live vicariously through as her own memory. Not that she took it that seriously, she just loved the little excitement we had in our lives, and thought nothing wrong with it.
"Okay okay, calm down Tinkerbell. Anyways, these two creeps who I work with, or rather used to work with, they were fired as soon as the manager saw what happened, were making the moves on me, and wouldn't take no or fuck off for an answer. It just kept getting worse and worse; they were relentless. I was really getting sick of it, but I started getting a little worried. I was actually thinking of what I would do if they followed me home, and my shift wasn't over for another hour or so after that.
They started getting a little touchy-feely when this man came over, pretending to be my boyfriend, or fiancé. I can't remember exactly what he said, but he made his point. They left me alone after that; I think they were a little threatened by him."
"Was he hott?" Alice inquired, and I leaned in to listen. Her eyes were wide in anticipation, and a smile beamed across her tiny face. Rosalie mimicked her smile, and replied.
"Yeah, he was. Extremely hott, actually. He had really pale skin, and really dark hair, it almost looked black in the light, but it could have been anything. His eyes were some kind of green or blue, again it was hard to tell, there was red light shining all around him."
"Ooo," I cooed. "Rosalie has a crush!" I exclaimed.
"No I don't. He's too formal, too...old-fashioned. Not really my type. He was nice though." I was wrong. I usually was about these things; Alice was the mastermind of crushes and other things of that nature.
"Well, that is rare in itself." The pixie said. "A nice guy who helps someone else, and is gorgeous at the same time. How many of those do you know?" She said rhetorically.
Answering internally, I could only picture one face, and one pair of eyes that were the color of granny smith apples. I did know someone like that. How odd, these two men were so similar. Could they be...? No, Edward did not seem like the type of man to go to a trendy place like New Moon. Not that I knew, anyway. I had to keep reminding myself that I did not know him as well as I thought, and that it was crucial for me to remain unbiased.
"Not enough." Alice remarked. For a few moments, the three of us sat in silence, with our eyes glazed over in fantasies. Nearly at the same time, we drew our glasses to our lips and drank heartily. Feeling utterly pathetic, I sighed and sank even deeper into the couch. Suddenly, Rose smacked her hands on her lap and stood up with a sense of power about her.
"I am so sick and tired of moping on this couch. We live in New York City of all places, we should be out doing something, not gluing our asses to the furniture. Now come on, get up. Where should we go?"
Alice and I looked at each other blankly.
"You just got off of work at a bar, how can you want to go somewhere at this hour besides a club?" I asked.
"Seriously, Rosalie, where would we go? We look like crap—except you of course– and what else is there to do at ten at night?" Alice intervened.
"Such a buzz kill. I guess you're right though." We sat once more in silence. "There aren't any good movies out, right?" We nodded.
"We could blast our iPods and piss off Dickwad." I suggested.
"Nah. I want to sleep tonight." Rose said. "The idiot would spend the entire night keeping me up. It's like he never sleeps."
"Vampire." I said.
"We could paint our nails?" The blond suggested, an idea to which Alice and I both groaned. Again, silence hit the room as we thought of something to do.
"Oh oh oh! I know what we can do!" Alice began to jump excitedly in her seat, clapping her hands madly together. "We can play Twister!"
Rose and I looked at each other skeptically. Needless to say I was terrible at this game. A few years ago I actually managed to tear the mat apart while trying to put my right hand across the dots and my leg in the corner opposite.
"We don't have enough people to play properly." I said. "It's more fun with guys. Remember when we played it with Quil and Embry from the Reservation?" They nodded, and then burst into laughter at the memory. Our two Quileute friends being about seven feet in height were more than enough for an evening's entertainment as they twisted with lengthy awkwardness across the mat.
"You know they're getting married?" Alice said. At my surprised expression, she clarified her declaration. "Not to each other, Quil is getting married to this girl named Claire soon, and Embry to someone named Leah. They all went to school together in La Push, and met up at the five year reunion or something."
"Aw, that's cute! The boys get tied down." I said smiling. We had met them years ago when we were still in high school, being that the La Push reservation was so close to our home of Forks. They were the first friends we had outside of school, and were now the first to get married. I felt a little sick.
The evening slowly passed, and once again, I was back in bed. It seemed like the only thing I did that had any use at all was to sleep, and it also seemed like all that I did recently. Work had taken up my life, and Edward had taken up my mind. Between the two, the numbness of a restless sleep was something I actually looked forward too, strange as it was. What was it about him that kept me up at night? Besides the obvious answer that he was pleasing on the eyes, he knew me, and was, I am sure, still finding out about the most hidden aspects of my life that I may even be unaware of. That was what made me kick in the night – how the cliché 'he knew me better than I knew myself' could easily be a reality for me.
I could not allow a cliché to become my life. I would not. Even for Edward. Alright, maybe for Edward. If he took the time and effort to get to know me, I might as well let him. Why couldn't I have realized that before I insulted him? Life could really be cruel sometimes.
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!!!
Another day of work. Another day of fighting for the control of my office from man-hungry women. Another day of Edward who I had chosen to avoid. When had my simple life become so complicated? Sadly, I knew the answer. The night in the elevator. Those few hours changed everything.
Bored with my usual office wardrobe, I slid on a white, silky dress and stepped into my favorite white flats. At least I would have comfy feet in my humiliation. I walked over to the kitchen, momentarily forgetting about the death of Mr. Coffee. Oh well, I would buy one later. Glancing at the calendar, it marked August 12 as being the anniversary of the day Rosalie, Alice, and I had moved from Forks to New York all those years ago, and it being Thursday.
Feeling completely pathetic when I realized this was the only anniversary any of us would be celebrating, I stomped out of the apartment as Alice slid sleepily through her door.
"Morning Alice."
"Huh? Oh hey...Bella. Have fun." She said with grogginess dripping in her speech. Rubbing her eyes, she walked over to the refrigerator where her collections of vats of caffeine, otherwise known as Pepsi, awaited her. Though normally perky, she was a wreck in the morning. Just before I locked the door behind me, I poked my head in and whispered to her from across the apartment so as not to wake Rosalie.
"Psst, Alice."
"Huh?"
"Don't forget, you cousin is coming in today."
"Ah right, the cousin. Did I tell you that he is in beauty school?"
"Really?"
"Yeah, he's cutting my hair today. More like trimming it, but still. Good practice." She frowned at her flat, black hair that hung to her shoulder.
"Let me know how it turns out. I have to go, bye Alice."
"Bye." She said as she slumped onto the couch. Rosalie was right – we lived on that couch. We did need to get out more, much as I hated to admit it. Though I was not about to suggest us going to New Moon anytime soon, a movie would not be out of the question.
After Alice's predicament on the subway that night, as I had come to call that date by anything else but August 9th, I decided to walk to Starbucks, and proceed on foot to The Times.
At the maple-colored counter, I ordered my drink when I heard the sound of a familiar drink .
"I have a double espresso? Double espresso for Edward?"
"Shit!" I mumbled under my breath. Hiding behind the crowded lines, I childishly ducked before the pastry case, hoping not to be seen by my colleague. I really felt like an idiot, understandably so. Suddenly, the god-like man came into view. He was alone, and grasped his drink in one hand while raking the other through his hair. He tilted his head back, and let the steaming, black liquid pour through his throat. The bronze locks atop his head were blowing gently in the breeze of the air conditioning vent above him, and though his eyes were closed I could still feel the intensity radiating from his features.
My heart melted, my eyes in physical pain from having to turn away as I was called to the register. Still crouched below the counter, nearly on my hands and knees as I hid, I whispered my drink.
"Grande latte please?" The man wrote with black ink on the side of the cup, looked at me suspiciously, then punched buttons onto the register. He leaned down, and asked me why I was whispering.
"You see that guy over there? The really tall one with the pale skin?"
"How could I not?" Of course, he had to be attracted to Edward.
"Well, I work with him, and it's a long story but it's kind of better if he doesn't see me..."
"You know him? You are hiding from that? Are you insane?"
"I think I am. How much do I owe you?"I slid him the bills, and without avoiding the strange looks coming from the crowds within the coffee shop, I faced the floor as I literally crawled across it.
The heavy glass door shut, and as the sound of the door colliding with the frame drew my attention to it, I momentarily lost sight of what was directly in front of me. My head came into contact with a man's leg, covered in black slacks that could easily have been Armani. His black shoes were glistening in the lights, obviously fresh from designer shelves.
"Oh, excuse me sir, I didn't see you..." My sentence was cut short. I lied, I had seen him. In fact, I had seen him sipping his coffee as would a model for a coffee bean commercial. My eyes flew upward, meeting the very bewildered, green eyes of Edward.
His lips were curved in a sort of crooked, amused smirk. His shock quickly faded into a humorous expression, all at my expense. The pooling blood in my cheeks felt as if it would burn a hole through my face, killing me by mortification.
"Well, hello there Bella." Edward said, trying to contain his laughter.
"I uh...dropped an earring." I lied. He reached his hand to help me up, and I quickly accepted it.
"You don't have pierced ears." Shit! He actually noticed? When? I usually wore my hair down! The only reason I had even said that was because of a movie I had seen, and it worked for her! Why does everything work out for people in movies? Except for Titanic, that was a reasonable argument.
"Eh – it's not my earring, it's my friend's." I was actually digging myself a grave. Edward tilted his head in confusion and disbelief.
"Really? Where is your friend?" Shit! Shit shit shit! Now I knew why pretty people were supposed to be stupid; you could lie to them and they wouldn't be able to put the pieces together.
"She's...not here."
"Oh? Why do you have her earring? And, where is this earring you speak of?" He had won, and he knew it. I could see the triumph in his face. I straightened out my dress, and tried to shake off the staring eyes. Of course, I couldn't be sure that it wasn't Edward that they were staring at. That was perfectly acceptable in my eyes.
"Fine. You win."
"And what is my prize?" He teased with a silky voice that nearly made my knees give way.
"Um, not having hot coffee poured on you?"
"I think this is my favorite prize that I have ever won before." Edward joked, and I could not help but laugh. It made the situation slightly better to see him smile, and for me to smile in return.
"Have you won very many?" I asked as he walked me to the door. Somehow, the hiding from him seemed extremely ridiculous, not simply because crawling on the floor was absolutely childish, but because it seemed like he would do anything to make me comfortable. It was then that I remembered something that had happened the night in the elevator, and what I had thought about it afterward.
An awkward song had just blared from my iPod, and our kiss had ended.
"That's ironic." Edward joked. Strangely, the awkwardness faded with his words. He was genuinely amused, and thankfully, we could part and laugh in drunken tones. "And tell her thanks for me."
"For what?"
"For giving us material for some interesting conversations." Of course, he was a gentlemen. He looked at me, and then clicked the wheel of my iPod. I had been blushing all too obviously, and he wanted to make me comfortable
God, I was a jerk. More than once I doubted his gentlemanly intentions, and I just kept doing it.
"Prizes? No, not many at all." He answered me, smiling. His teeth were alarmingly white despite what I assumed to be frequent coffee drinking.
"Oh? Why is that?"
"I never entered many contests. Of course, none of them entailed coffee induced third-degree burns for all of the participants who didn't win."
"I see. So what prizes have you won?" I asked with genuine interest as we began to stride toward The New York Times building. As I walked beside him, the sun began to peak above the skyscrapers, sending a heavenly orange glow across his pale face. It was almost more than I could bear as the glistening rays reflected in his eyes.
"I'd rather not say."
"Do you have something to hide, Edward?" I asked him coyly. I felt utterly ridiculous, but at the same time, so naturally mysterious. Must be the coffee. Or the Edward. Either one.
"Yes. Embarrassment."
"Worse than having a bag of groceries in a commercial skyscraper's elevator at nine at night?" I asked without thinking. Crap! Why why why did I do that? Wasn't it my goal to forget that night?
Edward looked at me slyly from the corner of his eye with a devilish grin brimming along his ivory teeth.
"Someone is talkative today." He declared as my cheeks scorched with the pool of blood that swelled within them.
"Caffeine rush." I lied.
"I see." He knew. I was a terrible liar, and he was smart. Too smart. We continued to walk past the streets of the city until he broke the silence. "I forgot my own address."
"Huh?" Awakened from my Edward-induced coma during which visions of him whirled around my conscience, I was unaware of what he meant.
"That night in the elevator, when I had the groceries. I had the address of my apartment on one post-it note and the address of the Times on another. I mixed them up, and took the elevator halfway up the building when I saw the logo on the button panel. Feeling like an idiot, and rightfully so, I might add, I clicked the lobby button hoping not to run into anyone. I did, of course, and there I was with a bag of wine, candles, and bendy-straws."
I could not contain my laughter. Giggling convulsively, tears began to stream out the corners of my eyes.
"You thought...you lived...at your office!" I spat out between fits of hysteria. He rolled his eyes, but still he smiled.
"Exactly." He said. "This is why I didn't tell you. Now you think I am a moron." I calmed myself for his sake, and for the sake of my ribcage.
"I don't think you're a moron. In fact, I think you are quite intelligent." His face became serious, and turned toward me.
"Really?"
"Of course I do. I guess it didn't help that I laughed." I shamefully admitted with my eyes evading his.
"I don't mind."
"You're just trying to make me feel better."
"No. I like making you laugh, even if it's at my expense." Smiling widely with my lips pressed together, I looked up into his eyes, and playfully elbowed him with my arm bent from resting the handle of my briefcase around my forearm. He copied my action, and we walked onward.
"Friends?" He offered.
"Friends." I confirmed.
Maybe it was possible for the two of us to be friends. If we could not be anything more, which was the case, then we could at least have a friendship out of this. Would that be good enough for me? It would have to suffice, and I was determined to make sure that it would be carried through that way.
I did not fully understand the phrase 'just friends'. Is it that being friends with someone you could otherwise have a relationship with lesser than dating? Shouldn't it be considered more because of the rarity that it was? Friends were far more valuable than dates, and comparing the two with 'just' did not seem quite fair.
"Your turn." Edward said as we approached the Times.
"For what?"
"I told you an embarrassing story, and now it's your turn."
"Why is that?"
"That's what friends do; they share humiliating stories. Come on, let's hear it."
"Are you sure you want to hear this?"
"Mhmm." He answered with his heavenly hum as we glided across the marble lobby with several pairs of eyes locked on our – mostly his – forms.
"Alright. Earlier when I was on the floor, I was hiding from you." Edward looked at me with shock spread across his gorgeous face, which soon transformed into laughter as mine had been. I could not help but laugh at my own pathetic action. The man at the register was right; why on earth was I hiding from him? So many people searched the world for people like him. Mostly casting directors, I assumed.
"Bella, can I tell you something?" Oh god, no, not when you propose asking it first – that only meant trouble.
"Yes."
"You are an awful hider."
"Shut up!" I teased as I hit his shoulder. If the only way to feel his skin was in physical abuse, so be it. It's not like I could actually hurt him...physically.
Though our playfulness returned, the awkwardness did not fade completely as we had hoped. In fact, it was worsened as we stepped into the same elevator we had been in so many days ago.
We stood alone, with only the view as an accompaniment. As we endured the silence, the tension built. Seeming as though he was the only one of us courageous enough to ease the atmosphere, he spoke.
"Wow. They got all the wax off the bottom. I felt kind of bad about that after."
"Actually, I know the head janitor." I said, stifling laughter.
"Oh. Well, that makes me feel a lot worse actually."
"Don't! I mean...don't. I know him, and I wish that it had been more difficult."
"Ah. Was that the guy who was bothering you the other day?" Edward asked.
"Yup."
"Well now, I should have brought Superglue." I giggled, and the unease the small, glass-enclosed space had once held was now completely evaporated, and turned into something entirely different. It thrilled me so much that this place that beheld such a beautiful moment in my life was now only the keeper of happy memories, happy memories with Edward.
We departed down the hall, and departed into our offices. Sinking into my plush chair, I sighed with contentedness with the current situation. We had become friends, and could finally be around each other while still be able to control my longing to touch him. For the most part.
Hours passed by, and I went about business as usual until three wonderful words were emitted from the computer speakers.
"You've got mail." I clicked the tiny yellow envelope, and my breath caught in my chest when I saw the email address.
edward_cullen: I finally finished the column. I attached it below. Do me a favor, and be harsh. Please. Thanks. Edward.
P.S. I am really glad we are friends.
I opened the attachment, and read what he had to say.
Heat of the City
by Edward Cullen
Being a virgin to the city of New York, I am greeted by heat, confusion, and thoughts muddled by the strange organization of the streets and sidewalks. With this mass excitement and struggles for self identification amongst the crowds, it can be hard to recall what it was you set out to create. What must be remembered, however, is that inspiration is easily transported. All you need to do is tear the tape off of all those boxes, and rifle through them until you find the unlabeled cardboard cube in which it rests.
After reclaiming your prized possessions from the heaps of necessities that get in the way of your muse, these cherished objects of your affection could very well return the attention they have been given by carrying something else along within their own forms; home. The inspiration you felt at your precious dwelling can be preserved through these artifacts, whether it be as grand as a painting or as seemingly insignificant as a pen, anything that retains the value of the wrecking ball to the brick wall of writer's block.
While this metaphor is painfully cliché, the theory remains the same. Don't allow your dreams, and creations to get lost in the claustrophobia that is so easily felt in this city of visionaries both talented and impersonating. Though your masterpiece could easily be the most important aspect of your life, inspiration is the only way to achieve something magnificent rather than mediocre. Wherever you go, wherever you stay, keep hold on what you set out to do.
Whenever you feel yourself drifting away from who you are as an artist, remind yourself of this: What do I want to say? Through the many variances in the arts, one thing remains the same. Everyone perceives it differently, and how they do so is nearly entirely up to you, and your hands, ears, sight, and life as a whole.
Most importantly, do not get caught up in the trends that lead you away from originality and self identification. Keep hold of what is important to you, and tear yourself from the net of conformity. And when you have the chance, delve into the heart of this island, and free the buzzing roots of miraculous works that are begging to be released from the core of New York. You may never know what you find within the heat of the city.