A lot of people said they never received an alert for the last chapter, and given the number of hits this chapter received compared to previous ones, this makes sense. So if you didn't get an email about Chapter 10, go back and read it. I posted it last Thursday.
I want to thank WriteOnTime for being wonderful. I also want to thank ciaobella27 for reading anything I send her and for being nice about it.
This chapter is Ali's.
I don't own Twilight.
It turns out Edward didn't bake anything. He tried, but soon learned that he can't crack eggs without making a mess. Rosalie told us that he kept breaking them in his hands and she had to step in before a trip to the grocery store became necessary. He must have stayed and watched, though, because he smells like he was there in the kitchen. It's so nice.
Jasper decided to order a pizza, and Emmett said he wanted meat on his, and Rosalie said she likes chicken on hers, which I think is disgusting, but no one asked me for my opinion, so I stayed quiet. I don't need pizza right now. There's cake, and Edward's mom made pasta salad for dinner a few nights ago, and it's delicious. Still, I shared a slice with Jane, who wanted half a plain slice, and Edward kept offering me bites of his pepperoni slice which I thought was good, but he said was mediocre at best. Emmett was annoyed, because his cousin owns the place they ordered the pizza from. It didn't last for too long, because Emmett isn't one to hold grudges or act like an asshole. If we had ordered from a restaurant owned by one of Jasper's relatives, the evening would have taken a very sour turn.
"Bella, I think you need a drink," Emmett declares. "You're the only sober one here."
I shrug. "I don't like beer."
"It makes her feel bloated. Her stomach gets big," Jasper says, laughing hysterically.
I cover my right cheek with my hand. Edward is sitting to my right. He doesn't have to see me blush and know it's true.
"Beer gives everyone a gut," Rosalie tells Jasper. "I'd like to see you in a couple of years if you continue to drink like this."
I notice that she's been drinking lite beer all night, even though there isn't any lite beer in sight. I smile at her, and she mouths, "Want one?" Laughing, I shake my head. This is so not about the calories.
Jane, who is sitting to my left, places her bottle on the table and turns to me. "How many calories were in that thing? I had three, Bella."
The panic in her voice breaks my heart. "It's nothing, I promise," I lie. "Just don't have any more. You'll get drunk. Since when do you drink so much?"
"It's your birthday, and I like beer," Jane informs me.
"It's my birthday in just under an hour, and your mom wants us home soon," I point out.
If her mom finds out that she's been drinking, it will be very, very bad. I watch her short nails scratch her thigh. I love her skirt, and wish I could have worn it tonight. Instead, I'm wearing jeans. If I were wearing her skirt, Edward's hands would be touching my skin. My hand shoots out to touch Jane's thigh. It looks very smooth. Edward moves a little beside me and I snuggle against him.
"Did you wax?" I ask. There's no way she waxed.
"No, I just shaved," she replies.
"It looks like you waxed. Like, your skin looks so smooth."
She shakes her head and shrugs. "You know I hate wax. You're the only person I know who does that to herself."
"Bella, you wax your legs?" Rosalie asks. Jasper and Emmett turn and look at us. Apparently this conversation is more interesting than the game they are playing on Edward's Xbox.
"Yeah…"
My face is hot again. I get bloated and gross when I drink beer, and I'm hairy enough to have to wax instead of shave, because it's smooth that way, and lasts longer.
"Me too," Rosalie tells me. "Well, sometimes, since I'm usually too lazy to put in the effort. Mostly before vacations. Easier, you know?"
"Yeah, it makes sense before a vacation," Jane agrees.
Jasper and Emmett are no longer listening. I know we have to leave soon, but apart from the time Edward and I spent in the kitchen earlier in the evening, we haven't had a chance to be alone. I want to be alone with him. He is warm, and soft. He likes to touch me. His voice is low, and deep, and talks to me. Even when they're not directed at me, his words make me dizzy. It's like I confuse him, my body confuses him; he asks questions, but they're not for me to answer. I ask those same questions, but I keep them to myself. I turn a little and find him staring at me. His eyes are playful, but intense, and he's biting his knuckles. I blush wildly, and this makes him laugh. He shakes his head, and throwing an arm around my neck, pulls me closer.
He's so different from everyone else.
For instance, the boys I've dated and done things with focused on feeling good and coming and touching my breasts and everywhere else. Sometimes, they'd even drag my hand over to touch them, and I liked that feeling, so I'd touch, but I would also be annoyed. 'I'll touch you when I want to touch you,' I would think. But Edward is different, and it scares me, but I like it. He will be holding me, like he was earlier in the kitchen, and his mouth will find my shoulder, and he will just keep it there, on the same spot, wet and warm against my skin. He'll just breathe and say nothing, stay like that until it's just his cheek on my shoulder, and I'll touch his hair or his face, kiss his forehead, and he'll sigh. And he kisses me. Long kisses, real kisses, kisses that make me wonder if I'm still standing up, because I'm weightless and light and free, and it's so good, being with him like that. And those kisses also bring me down to the ground – not in a bad way, but in the best way. I feel anchored to him, and I think that if we continue the kiss for just a few more seconds, we won't be two separate entities, anchored to each other, but we'll fuse, and be one thing, and he feels it too. I know he does. And it scares him so much, I can tell the second we stop and break away from each other. The fear on his face, in his eyes… Sometimes he'll let go of my hands, of my body, and his hands act like they just touched something too hot, or too cold. But he's a boy, and he'll touch me again. And again. And again.
But he won't touch me like the other boys. He won't reach back and try to unhook my bra. He won't run his hand up my leg and see if I'd object to having his hand between them. None of that. And this doesn't make sense, because when we are pressed up against each other he so wants me, because I feel him against me, and I know that I want to do dirty, filthy things to him.
"Bella," I hear a voice say.
My legs are being carried over onto Edward's lap. I move around until I'm comfortable, and rest my head on his shoulder.
"Bella," the voice repeats, and I immediately recognize it as Jasper's, now that I'm "back" and paying attention to my surroundings again. "We have to go soon."
"I know."
"Hey Rosalie, you said you'd show us the hot tub and game room, wanna do that now before we leave?" Emmett asks. He stands up, and I watch Rosalie watching Emmett until Jasper stands up too, blocking her view.
"Sure, follow me. Jane, don't leave me alone with these two," Rosalie says, and Edward and I are left on the couch.
"Don't go."
"I have to go," I tell him.
"Your parents won't find out. Stay. They can tell their mom you decided to go back home and not sleep over."
"I can't…"
Something changes under me. His body is still. His face is blank. His eyes move around the room and stay fixed on a painting I don't like. I swing my legs off of him and sit up straight.
"You can't always get what you want."
"Excuse me?" he asks.
"You. You can't always get what you want. Not everything you ask for will be handed to you. I can't stay; I wish I could, but I can't. You don't have to act like a jerk – it won't change a thing," I tell him.
"You're wrong if you think my mood is affected in any way by your decision to stay or leave. Stay if you'd like, or go." Edward runs a hand through his hair and stretches, closing his eyes. He yawns, and his hand comes up to his mouth to cover it before he continues. "Ultimately, it doesn't matter whether you decide to stay or go, but they're going to be back in a few minutes, so if you want to enjoy the time we have left alone, we should start now."
"Enjoy the time we have?" I laugh. "I think that time is over. Thanks for a fun evening."
I force myself to look at him, and the panic is there in his eyes, but he doesn't speak. I stand up and dust some crumbs off my jeans. My hand is shaking as I look around for my phone. He sees it before I do, and hands it to me. I offer him a clipped 'thank you' and walk towards the front door. I can wait for everyone outside. And I can drive to Jane's and get into her bed and think. And cry. If I'm lucky, I'll just fall asleep.
I quietly close the front door behind me and stand in the chilly night, wrapping my arms around myself to stay warm. I take calm breaths, deeps ones, and try not to think just yet. But his words are in my head, and I don't like them at all. I hear the door open behind me and I turn around, hoping they're ready to go, and that no one, especially Rosalie, asks me why I am out here alone.
But it's just him. His eyes are wild and his hair is everywhere. If he'd been good, I would have had something to do with the current state of his hair.
"I'm sorry." I can barely hear the words.
"Don't do that girl thing, where you ignore me and pretend not to care, and then go off and talk about me behind my back" he continues. "I apologized, so either accept my apology or tell me to fuck off."
"You're sorry, great." I turn my back to him and dig into my arms with my nails. I need to stay calm and collected until I'm in the car with Jane.
"You're doing it. Ignoring me."
"That shouldn't affect your mood in any way."
"You know I want you to stay," he tells me.
"Yeah, but now I really don't want to stay," I respond.
"What do I have to do? I'll give you your present – I wanted to wait until your actual birthday. I was hoping you'd stay until after midnight."
"I don't want my present," I tell him.
"You're really going to stop talking to me now?" he asks.
"I'm talking to you."
"You know what I mean," he says.
"Do I? You want me to stay, but you don't care if I leave. You think I'd actually touch you after you said those things to me, and then you try to make me feel bad about how I treat you? You confuse me, and not in a way that keeps me interested, or excited, or whatever. You're not really worth it, you –"
And he's right next to me, and his hands are flat on my stomach, and then down my sides until they're on my hips.
"I'm worth it. I promise you, I'm worth it," he says.
"Why?" I ask him.
"I don't know… I can't answer that, but I know… I'll make myself be worth it, I'll do things so that it's not even a question."
I shake my head. "You don't know what you're saying. I don't even know –"
"Does it matter? I apologized. If you just forget I said that, I –"
"And then what? You'll say something like that again soon enough, and I'll forgive you again, and… no," I tell him.
"Or I never say something like that again, and just because I did this one time, we'll both… nothing else will happen, and you said yourself, this is good, I just…"
"It's not good when you act like a jerk."
"But when I don't?" he asks.
I lied about the beer this week. I won't lie again. "When you don't, it's the best," I tell him.
His arms are around me and I try to escape, but I don't try too hard. He grabs me again and his arms are so tight around me.
"I don't want you to go," he tells me again. "We can sit out here, or inside, and I can kiss you until you're eighteen. We can go to my room, or not, if you don't want to, but I don't want you to sleep far from me. God, you are so soft. I've tried to fight it. I tried. I don't want to…"
His mouth is on my face, his face is in my hair. I kiss and kiss and kiss his chest. I don't know why. I'm so mad at him. I'm mad, and yet I want to stay. I want to teach him a lesson, show him he can't do this, but there are others things I want more.
"Why?" I ask.
"Hmmm?" His hands move up and down my back, he hugs me close, closer, so close.
"Why fight it?"
Does he want to be single? Free to do whatever, whoever? Is this something he wants to stay away from?
"I don't know. I know I should, but not why I should. And I can't stay away. I had too many beers, I'm saying stupid shit, ignore me. I want you here. I –"
"I can't stay. I have to go with them. I want to be here too. I'd go to your room and let you kiss me until I'm… until you're sick of me," I tell him.
He laughs, and laughs, and it feels nice against me. He kisses my neck and says I taste a little salty, and he licks me, and I squeeze him. He's skinny, but tall and hard and so pretty.
"I should give you your present now," Edward says.
"Yes. I like presents." I wonder what he got me. I know him, but I don't know him. He knows me, but he really doesn't know me. Maybe he bought me a mug. Or a keychain. Or a shirt. Or a CD.
"It's kinda lame."
"Then why'd you get it?" I ask, pinching his side. He jumps and grabs my hand.
"Wait here, I'll be right back." He runs into the house and I sit on the steps, waiting for him to return. I hope he's back before everyone else. I don't want to accept his present in front of them. I want to tease him if it's silly, or kiss him long and hard if I love it.
I check my phone and see that it's past midnight. Happy birthday, Bella. You're eighteen now. In fact, you've been eighteen for eleven minutes. The first decision you made as an adult was to forgive Edward. Was it the right decision? That depends on the criteria you use to determine what the right decision was. If you use "Does it make you happy?" as one of the criteria, then you made the right decision.
Edward comes back with a gift bag in his hand. He so bought the bag from the Thriftway. It's purple and shiny and pretty ugly, but I know it's the simplest gift bag you can buy there. The rest are colorful or have balloons on them.
He starts to hand me the bag, but changes his mind. Instead, he reaches in and takes out a blue baseball cap. A blue baseball cap with "NY" in white letters on the front. He takes the hat and places it on my head, pulling it down and laughing when I make a face.
"Happy birthday."
"Thank you," I manage to say. My hands are shaking, and I'm so glad he decided not to hand me the bag. I don't know what I would have done. I would have dropped both the hat and the bag the second I discovered what my present was.
"Are you okay?" Edward asks me. I nod and try to give him a convincing smile.
"You look upset. I didn't know what to get you… I know it's lame, but it's only part of… I bought us tickets to a game next weekend. The Mariners are playing the Yankees, and I thought… I guess that's lame too, if you're not into baseball. It's more of a gift for me. Forget it, I'm sorry."
My hands reach up to touch his face. I love the scruffiness that's so him under my fingertips. Which him, I'm not sure right now. But sometimes there's just a single "him." Those are the best times.
"I love it. It's perfect. Did you find it here, in Forks?" I ask.
"It's actually one of mine. I have a few… Really? You're not disappointed?"
"I get to go to Seattle with you to spend hours at a baseball game and wear your hat." I take it off my head and bring it close to my face. It smells like him. It smells like boy and summers spent watching games outside, in the heat. I fling my arms around his neck and stand on my toes again to kiss him. We stand here for a while, and it's quiet and dark outside his house. His hands go under my shirt, moving along my back. They touch the material of my bra and his fingers drag it down a bit and then let go. His hands cover most of my back and I want to see them on me, and I want to feel them everywhere. I sigh.
"I wish…" he starts.
"I know," I whisper, cutting him off.
"They're back," he tells me. I hear voices and footsteps and hide my face in his chest, hoping they won't see me and find me.
"Yeah, here, I'll just hold you like this, and you wear your hat. They'll never find you, and you'll stay here with me," Edward says.
I laugh and turn to see Rosalie and Emmett walking out the door, clearly in the middle of a heated debate. Jasper and Jane are behind them, both smiling at me until they see my hat. The hat Edward just gave me, because he wants to take me to a baseball game in far-away Seattle, where we will probably go by car, and it will take a long, long time, and I'll be sitting next to him the entire way.
"Cool hat, Bella. Did Cullen give it to you?" Jasper asks.
I nod. "He's taking me to a game. I guess he won't go with me if I don't support his team."
"I won't," Edward confirms.
"You should be ashamed of yourself, born and raised in Washington State, but so ready to commit an act of treason by wearing a Yankees hat – or any opponent's hat – to a Mariners game."
I turn and stick my tongue out at Emmett, who is laughing, probably thinking he sounded very clever in front of Rosalie, who is just rolling her eyes. I catch Jane looking at me, her mouth slightly open.
"Okay, we should go," I say. My hands are shaking again, because Jane and Jasper's presence reminds me of why this gift came as such a shock in the first place. He just gave me a hat. Hat Guy placed his hat on my head. It may not be the same exact hat, but it's identical to the one I've seen so many times, the one I've described to Jane and made her draw, the one Jasper has seen in these drawings.
Turning to Edward, I thank him again. "I had so much fun, and everything was awesome. You didn't have to –"
"Happy birthday, Bella," he tells me. I kiss his cheek and walk to my car with Jane. Jasper changes his mind about riding with Emmett and joins us instead.
My hands fumble as I try to unlock the door, and Jasper takes my keys from my hands. He's had a lot to drink, and I don't want him to drive, so once the door is open, I take back my keys and sit behind the wheel.
"You're in no condition to drive," Jasper tells me.
"And you are? I don't think either of you would pass a sobriety test."
"Bella," Jane says, "you've had a shock, I can tell, Jasper can –"
"No, I'm fine. I didn't have a shock – it was just surreal. It's nothing," I insist.
We wave goodbye to Rosalie and Edward, who are standing on the steps outside their door, and eight minutes later we are walking up to the Whitlocks' house in silence.
Mrs. Whitlock must be asleep, because she doesn't come running down the stairs to make sure everyone looks sober, clean, and happy. I make my way up to Jane's room while she goes to the kitchen for a glass of water. I change into shorts and one of Jasper's old t-shirts he let me borrow, and head to the bathroom to get ready for bed. By the time I'm back, Jane is sitting on her floor, my hat in her hands.
"Wow," she says, smiling at me.
"I know."
"Is he nice?"
I nod, because he is, and because I don't want to upset her right now, or have a discussion about what Edward said to me tonight.
"Jasper thinks he's nice, too. So does Emmett," Jane says.
"And you?"
She shrugs. "I don't know him, but you seem happy, and yeah… yeah, I guess he's a nice guy."
"I feel like I don't really know him either," I admit. "But it's just happening, and I don't want to stop whatever's happening. I really like him…"
"Then don't stop," Jane tells me. "He's pretty cute."
I smile at this, and she blushes. "You think he's cute?" I ask.
"Not my type, but I can see the appeal," she responds. "I prefer dark eyes."
"Dark?"
"Yeah, like brown," she says. "Before we go to sleep, let me give you your present. I wanted to be first, but Rosalie told us Edward was waiting for it to be your actual birthday before he gave you his present, and Emmett decided to hang out in their basement until after midnight to help him out. I think he likes her, but I can't tell. He usually likes really small girls."
Yeah, he does, but I can see why he'd be into Rosalie. She's beautiful, and if she loses just a few pounds, or thirty, she'll be perfect. Jane walks over to her closet and comes back to hand me with what looks like a very large piece of paper. I unroll it and hold it up in front of me. Jane giggles when she hears my gasp. She wishes me a happy birthday and then sits behind me, her chin on my shoulder, looking at her drawing with me. I recognize it – two little girls lying on their stomachs under a tree. One dark-haired, the other very blonde. Each has an apple in her hand, the dark-haired girl's apple has already been bitten into. I love the drawing even more than I love the photograph Jane and I both have copies of. My father took the picture one summer when we were playing outside, and it's one of his favorites from my childhood. I can't believe Jane turned it into this. It's so beautiful, so real. She has managed to copy the photograph with such precision, but also add life to it. Because she was there that day, and she felt the warm air against her skin, and smelled the spring, and felt the grass and dirt under her elbows. I turn my face and plant a kiss on her cheek. She kisses me back.
"I – could you roll this back properly? I don't want to ruin it," I tell her. She takes it from my hands and eventually sets it down, leaning it against her desk.
"I love it. Thank you. You know I love that picture, and you're amazing, you have so much –"
"Really? I'm so relieved. I had no idea what to get you this year," Jane says. "I thought and thought, and bought you a stupid charm for your piercing, which I have here somewhere, actually. Then I saw the picture when I was over Tuesday night, and yeah… I've been working on this since then. I'm sorry I've been MIA during lunch these past couple of days; I just wanted to finish it in time."
"I…" I'm sort of speechless. Instead of saying anything, I attack her and refuse to let go when she asks me to. Jane's not a hugger like me, but then she surprises me with a kiss on my cheek. I've missed her a lot. While she was talking, I realized that after I asked Jasper where Jane was on Thursday, I never really thought about it again. I've been so focused on Edward. Or, to be completely honest, I've been focused on nothing. If you were to ask me what I did during lunch those two days, I'd have no idea how to answer. I sat. I ate. I touched. I smiled.
"Are you tired?" I ask Jane.
She nods, and tells me it's been a long day. While I agree that it feels like I've been up for weeks, I'm not the least bit tired. Still, I lie in her bed and pull the covers up to my chin.
"Why were you and Edward standing outside?"
I might as well just tell her. "He was being difficult, so I decided to wait for you guys outside," I explain.
She lifts her eyebrows and looks at me. "Difficult?"
"He really wanted me to spend the night."
Jane finally climbs into her bed and joins me under the covers. Her mom is probably on a cleaning frenzy – everything smells so nice. "I didn't realize you guys were..." she starts.
"If you're talking about sex, we're not. We've kissed, that's it."
"Didn't you want to spend the night?" she asks me.
Did I want to spend the night? I really wanted to stay with him, but I knew I couldn't. I was supposed to be here, and I couldn't risk getting caught. Also, it would have been awkward telling Jane and Jasper to catch a ride home with Emmett. Such silly considerations. No one would have caught me, and a joke from Emmett or some teasing from Jasper would have resulted in a blush or two – so worth being with Edward all night.
"Yeah," I reply.
Jane doesn't say anything. She rolls onto her back and turns off the light. I'm pretty sure she's already asleep a few minutes later when my phone vibrates on her desk. I quietly make my way over and read the text I have received.
I'll make myself worth it.
The flutter in my belly is so intense that I clutch my stomach and sit down on the floor, my back against Jane's desk. Suddenly I feel incredibly alone. I read the text and then read it again, wondering what it would be like to be with him all night. I've never spent an entire night with a boy. If this thing with Edward doesn't last, and I don't get another chance to sleep next to him, or stay up with him until everyone else is awake, I will always remember how I made the wrong decision on September 13, 2009.
I dig my fingers into my skin until I feel pain, and it snaps me out of this mood I'm in. Picking up my phone, I quickly type a message and send it before I can overanalyze and change my mind.
Say something pretty.
He responds almost instantly.
Bella.
I groan when my body reacts to his message. I'm embarrassed at myself, because it shouldn't feel this good. Silly. Silly. He was saying mean things just over an hour ago, and now he says cheesy things and you want to run away to him.
Try again.
You can be cheesy, it's okay. I'll probably love it more if you are. I have to wait a little longer for him to text back this time, and it doesn't disappoint. I'm on my back on the floor, rolling from side to side, trying not to make stupid sounds that will wake up Jane.
I miss your skin.
"Bella?"
I jump up when I hear her voice coming from the bed.
"What are you doing over there?" she asks.
"My phone… I got a text."
"Just take Jasper's bike and go back," Jane tells me. "Your engine will wake up the entire neighborhood."
"Yeah."
"Happy birthday, Bella."
I'm not sure which one of Jane's gifts tonight has made me happier.
XxXxX
I don't know whether I should call him or try to surprise him. I roll Jasper's stupid bicycle along with me and set it against the side of the house. It took over twenty-five minutes to get here, and my legs hate me. They also hate Edward. And Jane, for telling me to ride all the way here in the middle of the night. Thank God for all the exercise Jane makes me do with her. There's no way I would have survived this if we didn't spend hours a week on the elliptical, or doing crazy things for our legs that her mom taught us when we were ten.
Even if I wanted to, I'm not sure how I would surprise him – I can't climb in through a window. Do they have a security system? They must. And who knows which window is his. I know his parents aren't home, but with my luck, I'll end up in Rosalie's room, falling on top of her.
It's not the time for heroics or romantic gestures. My coming here is crazy enough. I should probably just go back. He's not my boyfriend. I don't know what he is. Or maybe he is my boyfriend – he tells me he doesn't want me touching other boys. Of course he's my boyfriend. But even if he is my boyfriend, what am I doing in the middle of the night outside his house? It's so cold. I'm still in shorts. It's freezing. Whatever rush of adrenaline that kept me alive on my way over is gone. Thank God I decided to borrow Jane's sweatshirt before I left. At least I'll be able to keep my arms.
Shit. I hear a noise and whatever it is, it's close. I take out my phone and start dialing my father's number. I'd rather be alive and in big trouble than dead at the hands of oh my God, is he smoking a cigarette?
"Shit! Bella? You –"
"You're smoking."
"I'm – yeah, I'm smoking. I – what are you doing here? How –"
"I got your text, and I just –"
"Did you ride over here on that bike? Why didn't you call? I could've –"
"No, we'd get caught, I wanted to, I don't know, surprise you? I don't know. I'm sorry, I thought you –"
He throws his cigarette to the ground and puts it out with his shoe. He's careful, making sure it's completely out before he's next to me. And his hands are on my face, and his lips are on my mouth.
"You look different," he tells me.
"No makeup?"
"Maybe. You had some on earlier, I noticed."
I nod. "You smell."
"Do you hate cigarettes?" he asks. I don't know why we're having this conversation, because I find his neck and it deserves all my attention, and care, and he smells… but he smells good.
"I hate what they do to people, but I love how they smell on you," I confess.
And my back is up against the house, and my legs are around his waist, and his hands are on my legs. And he's such a boy. He's beer, and cigarettes, and is that moisturizer I smell? Not really a boy smell, but he's so, so good. And he's breathing on me again, but this time it's more like pants, and his mouth is on my chest. And his tongue is on my throat.
"You're cold," he says. No, no, no – I'm warm. Shut up.
"I wasn't thinking earlier," he continues, "I had a bottle of wine I stole when my mom bought an entire case. Really good stuff. Not beer. Do you like wine?"
"Sure?" I manage to get out before my mouth finds something new to play with on Edward. I've never had red wine, but I'll drink a bottle if he asks me to.
He drags me inside, and up too many stairs, and then rummages through too many closets, considering he's a boy and shouldn't need so many. I realize I'm on a bed, and I kick off my shoes, because you never keep your shoes on when you're on a bed. He comes back to me with a bottle, and a strange-looking bottle opener, and he struggles, and I distract him, and he struggles a lot, because my hand brushes against something I really want to see, but then he opens it and pop! The sound the cork-thing makes when he finally manages to pull it out scares me. And I'm drinking, and it's kind of nasty, but I get used to it, and it's so rich. So much flavor. Strange, because it's at room temperature and not cold, but maybe this is how you drink red wine. And then it's gone, and he's drinking. And I'm on his lap, and Jane's sweatshirt is on the floor. I'm in Jasper's white v-neck, and Edward whispers shit as I drink from the bottle again. I look down, and he's staring at my chest, so I bring my fingers to his hair, and grab it, and pull his face against me. My eyes grow heavy and my head… what am I drinking? It's not even that good. But I like the bottle in my hands, and I like sharing, and I like watching him drink. I put it back into my mouth and throw my head back. It hits my teeth and ow, but I drink anyway, and then the bottle is gone, and Edward's hands are on my skin, under the stupid t-shirt, but there's nothing for his fingers to pull down or open.
He moves them up my back, then down my back. Up my sides, and his fingers almost touch my breasts. I move on his lap and we're closer than we were, and his hands move up my stomach and cover my breasts, but they're gone so fast. And so is my shirt. And he's on his back, and I move with him, cover him, and his hands are back on my skin, and our mouths meet, and we roll and roll and his shirt is gone, and my tongue feels the hair covering his chest. It's not gross. It's him. And it's just like it's supposed to feel.
When he kisses me again, it's slow. His chest-hair tickles a little against my nipples, and I giggle. His hands grab my ass and pull me so close that sounds come out of my mouth that I really don't expect. I'm on my back now, and look at your legs, Bella – why are they open like that? And why are your hands on his buttons, and where did your shorts go? Think. You're not completely naked, but you're close enough. Say something sweet and make him lie down beside you. No, no, no. Don't pull them down. The boy needs to keep his pants on. Yes, yes, yes. Kick them off, Edward. It's so dark, and I can barely see a thing. But I taste him, and feel him, and how nice is this weight on top of me? I do everything to keep it there. Keep him on me. He doesn't want to go either, but he wants to move. And moving is good. And he moves and moves until I scream, and then his fingers are touching me, and I want to say stop, I just came, don't touch me there yet, but his fingers are there, and they fumble, and they're long, and I move until I get one deep inside, and his mouth opens against my neck. He touches me, and I try to touch him. Now there are no clothes, it's easier this way. And we're back to moving like before, his finger gone, hands now on either side of my head, and my hips beg, beg, and beg again. And his hips do things that make me want to say his name. But I merely cry out without forming words, and he's off me, doing something over by his nightstand, and I pull him back. And he likes it between my legs. I think he says shit again, and this time he moves differently, and what is that? Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. I wince. He sees. He stops.
Don't look scared. Your eyes are prettier when they're wild and crazy and dark because of what our hips are doing and what your fingers find.
He opens his mouth but my hands fly to his face, and they bring him down to me. When we kiss and kiss, he moves again. Slow and nice, but I gasp sometimes, because I'm not used to this feeling. Full and sore but undeniably good, because it's him, and I know this, and I hold him, and he holds me. Faster and faster, and his mouth everywhere and there is no rhythm, just in and out and licks and kisses and Bella, Bella, Bella. I can't breathe, he's so heavy, and he knows, so he's over me, watching me, his hands back on the bed, then him on his knees and Jesus, what is he doing to me? Never stop staring like that, but please look away before I blush. Good, good, good, and come back here. And he's heavy again, but so, so wild, and just one more time and he stops. And his face. Oh, his face. I see the man I love for the very first time.
Thanks for reading my stuff and leaving reviews and PM'ing me back when I reply. And for being funny, and thoughtful, and awesome.
Okay – this chapter was pretty crazy. I need to know what you think. Share your thoughts and don't be shy. Know that I don't write about pregnant teens. I'll update soon.