Disclaimer: Not Mine.
Chapter Eleven
BPOV
I polished off my glass of wine as I stared at myself in the mirror. I'd fixed my hair, put on nice clothes, and even took the time to do my makeup. I looked good, I felt good, sorta.
I wasn't foolish enough to believe the temporary high was for any reason other than the soft job offer Esme Platt, from Luminair Media had made earlier today. It was the third time we'd spoken, and pending a background check, I'd have a job waiting for me when I arrived in Chicago.
She'd even given me her landlord's contact information because apparently there were some vacant units in her building. Luckily they had a one bedroom unit I could actually afford, so as of two hours ago, I had secured a place to live.
I'd have the furniture I wanted to take shipped Monday, and the rest would be donated. But today was Friday, and I was going out. I couldn't stand to be cooped up in this apartment one more second. I had one week left to enjoy Seattle, and then I was gone―for good.
As easily as things were falling into place, there was an undercurrent of melancholy that could not be ignored. A part of me knew once I boarded that plane, I would be truly severing all ties with my past, with the life I never wanted to leave, but I wasn't given a choice in the matter. Not one I could live with anyway.
Edward's face flashed in my mind, a searing pain etching into my chest because the face wasn't the one he carried now―run down, haggard, and high―but the beautiful boy whose smile could light up the world.
"Can you believe it, baby?" He laughed, scooping me up in his arms and spinning us around before kissing me breathless.
"Of course I can! You deserve it." My smile was so wide my cheeks ached, but I didn't care. My boy had just been signed, and his smile lit up the room.
"But what about school, my degree?" His brows dipped slightly, a small frown marring his beautiful face.
"You can always go back, but right now, this opportunity? It's a once in a lifetime chance. Live your dream, baby."
He tipped my face to his, his eyes soft and intense all at once. His thumb swept across my parted lips before he whispered, "I already am. I have you."
I glanced at the mirror. All of the makeup I worked so meticulously on now slid down my cheeks. When did it all change? When did everything start to slip away and crack until the fault ripped open and left us standing on opposite sides?
I wiped the tears from my face and straightened my back before I grabbed my purse and left the apartment. I headed to one of my favorite bars, intent on wiping away the hollow ache that had settled deep in my bones and losing myself in something other than my memories.
I crossed the bar and slid into a booth near the back. I wanted to see people, wanted to watch them move and dance, smile and flirt. I wanted someone to see me too, someone to smile that special smile that held promises of teeth and tongue, strong arms and harsh breaths. I wanted to forget― wanted to be as lost as I felt.
I motioned to the waitress and ordered a shot of tequila. And then another. And another. Until the edges were dulled, the memories fuzzy, and the pain in my chest subsided enough so I could take a real breath. One that filled my lungs, expanding my hollow, empty chest― nothing more than the tattered remains of a love that was a lie.
As I surveyed the room, I noticed more than a few glances were being cast my way. Did they find me attractive? Think I was pathetic for sitting alone in a bar on a Friday night drinking myself stupid? Maybe they recognized me: Edward Masen's long time girlfriend. But I wasn't his girlfriend. I wasn't his anything. And he wasn't mine.
Another shot. More glances. Shy smiles and discrete movements, closer, and then closer still.
I wanted this. I wanted them. I needed to feel connected to someone, anyone, if only for a little while, just so I could prove that I wasn't as dead as I felt inside.
"Bella?"
I rolled my head to the side, a lazy smile tugging at my mouth.
"Jamie." I beamed.
"Whatcha doin here, Bella?" he asked, his face pinched.
"C'mon, Jamie, isn't it obvious?" I smirked, waving my hand towards the new shot on the table in front of me. "I'm having a drink. Come. Sit with me; have a drink with me."
He shook his head, twisting to peer over his shoulder toward the door before slowly sliding into the seat across from me. I downed my shot, slamming the glass back onto the table.
"So, what are you buying me?" My tongue felt thick, numb. I ran it across my teeth, the sensation oddly arousing. I needed to get laid. I flicked my eyes across the bar quickly― my would-be suitors, my one-night stands, my means to an end― were in pursuit of others now, Jamie's presence obviously casting doubt about my intentions.
"I'm not sure―"
"You owe me," I interrupted, anger flaring in my chest like a smoldering fire. But pain brought awareness...it brought feelings; neither of which I was interested in experiencing. I inhaled deeply, thinking only of the wooden table that lay flat beneath my fingers, the rough edges catching on dried and neglected skin. I opened my eyes and studied him for a second, gathering what few conscious thoughts I had remaining.
"You owe me," I repeated slowly, "because had you never come into my life―into Edward's life―then I wouldn't be here...like this...alone." I nodded my head, leaning against the back of the booth and waiting.
"Would that make it easier?" he asked, shifting forward across the table. "If I took the blame? Told you I was responsible for everything that happened? Would you take him back?" His face was open, soft, but there was also a hint of desperation that colored his tone. Something else behind his words―an ulterior motive lurking in the shadows― something that would benefit him as well.
"Are you to blame? Did you hold the straw under his nose? Did you stick his dick in that whore?" I hesitated for a beat. "No? Then don't try and pacify me with bullshit excuses." I waved the waitress over, annoyed that Jamie's presence was conjuring up memories I'd rather stay dead and buried.
"Bella, why don't we call one of your friends?"
I bellowed out a laugh, the abrupt sound choking me, the act so foreign to me now. "I have no friends." The words fell from lips, dead, flat, lifeless.
"Sure you do, Bella. You have Emmett and―"
I slammed my palm against the table, my motions sloppy as my balance tipped. But it worked, the noise silencing him before he uttered another word.
"If Emmett is my friend, then I am better off sleeping with a poisonous snake." I hissed. "Do you know what he was going to do, Jamie?" I leaned over the table, my voice lowering. "He was going to cover for him. He was going to hide what happened from me."
"I'm sure that's not right," he stammered, his eyes shifting away from me.
"Oh, yes," I whispered conspiratorially, "he said 'there's still time' to Edward right when I walked through his bedroom door. What if I had gone to the other side of the house? To the studio like Emmett suggested? I may have never known..." I trailed off, my stomach twisting, my numbness slipping a little, leaving me cold, empty and so fucking alone.
Another shot.
"See, I didn't catch what he'd meant right away," I continued, leaning forward as I spoke through gritted teeth, the burn of the liquor sliding down my throat. "It wasn't until weeks later when I thought I'd stop at the first bottle of wine―thinking surely one should chase the nightmares away―that I woke gasping for air as memories flashed behind my eyes. Little puzzle pieces sliding into place. So friends? No. I'm better off."
I looked down at the shot placed in front of me, offering the waitress a small smile as she turned and left. I reached for the glass, my blurred vision and clumsy movement causing my fingers to smack against the side of the glass, sending it flying from the table and crashing to the floor.
"Oops." I laughed.
"Bella, I think we should get you out of here," Jamie said, looking around the bar nervously. "People may recognize you."
I waved my hand dismissively.
"Doesn't matter." I shrugged. "I'm leaving anyway."
He sighed in relief, his posture relaxing. "Do you want me to call you a cab?"
I shook my head at him, my tongue clicking against the roof of my mouth.
"I don't mean the bar. I mean like, leaving on a jet plane," I sang.
"What?"
"Town, Jamie. I'm leaving. I have to get away from here and the memories, the people, and the life that doesn't belong to me any longer. I'm done."
"Bella, no. You can't do that. You're not thinking clearly."
"I won't survive if I stay," I whispered, my eyes dropping to the glass in front of me, the golden liquid promising relief from the constant ache of his absence . "Leaving town...it's the only chance I have."
"The fuck it is."
I jerked back, the sound of Edward's dark, angry voice startling. He loomed over the table, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his eyes wild as they darted over my face. It was the first time I'd been this close to him since the day he was released from the hospital― the day after my entire world fell apart― and the sight of him was crippling. Jamie slid from the booth and grabbed Edward's arm, tugging him back.
"C'mon, man, let's get out of here."
Edward shot him a deadly glare and wrenched his arm free. He turned back toward me, his palms resting flat against the table as he towered over me, his eyes boring into mine.
"What are you talking about, Bella?" he asked through clenched teeth, his body vibrating with anger.
"I don't think that's really any of your fucking business." A hole ripped through my chest at the truth behind my words. He let out a dark chuckle, dipping his chin and shaking his head once before lifting his eyes to mine once more, his expression filled with disbelief―the intensity of his gaze staggering.
"You've gotta be out of your fucking mind if you think you're leaving."
He was so confident, and just like the times before, more than a little frightening. I glanced at Jamie, who was shuffling his feet from side to side, his eyes darting around the bar. A crowd had begun to edge closer, camera phones aimed in our direction― trying to get a glimpse, a picture, a story to tell their friends about their sighting of the great Edward Masen.
"Don't look at him," he barked. "Look at me. This is about us."
"Was it about us when you were fucking that whore in your bed?" I shouted, staggering to my feet. My footing slipped, causing my body to fall against his. The contact, the heat, the bone-deep feeling of being alive shocked my system and scorched me to the core. "You ruined everything. I am not an idiot; I won't let you hurt me ever again." My throat closed and my eyes stung as tears welled and spilled, humiliation and hurt causing each ragged breath I drew into my body to ache.
"Why won't you fight for us?" he demanded, his arms wrapping around my shoulders and anchoring me to him, even as I fought to pull away. He dropped his face to my neck, his lips pressing against my skin, burning into me like a branding iron.
"Please tell me." He inhaled deeply, his words muffled― his voice soft, broken.
"Why did you destroy us? Why did you throw away everything we had?" I choked as I pushed him away, frustration and defeat sucking me dry. The room was silent: no music, no clattering of glasses and bottles, no hushed conversations, just gasping breaths and muffled sobs.
We stared at one another, each waiting on an answer that would never come. I leaned over the seat, snatching up my purse and throwing a wad of cash onto the table.
I looked at him, his fist clenched at his sides, clothes rumpled, eyes and nose rimmed in red, a bright pink scar marring his temple. The man I loved was nowhere to be seen, just a ghost of the boy who was my best friend and the man I fell in love with.
All of the good and beautiful parts of him were buried in a decaying shell, ruined by long hours, hard work, and harder drugs. I shook my head and moved to step around him as his arm shot out and grasped my elbow.
"Let me go, Edward."
"Why won't you give me a chance to explain? To fix this?" he begged, his words garbled, his voice so low I could barely hear him.
"Because you broke me. You don't deserve anything else." I pulled away from him and walked through the crowd as their whispers grew louder. I didn't bother to look back when the sound of shattering glass, splintering wood, and angry voices rang out behind me.
I couldn't be leaving for Chicago soon enough.
A/N
Perry Maxwell is my beta, and so much more. I can't tell you guys how much better she made this chapter, and she deserves props for all she did. Thank you for everything you do, this story wouldn't be what it is without you.
If y'all want some more angst, go read her story Unrequited.
O_oza, Rose, Amber, Modersafari1, and Joo are my fab five and I love them.
See y'all in a few days!
~Liv
