hello, little reindeer wranglers?
two updates from us in one day?
lucky you. merry merry!
i hope yer reading our contest stuff. a little sumpin' sumpin' to getcha going on this lovely christmas vacation...
and of course, some scotchy edward.
Edward
It's one thing to want to touch what you can't or shouldn't have.
It's another thing to covet it.
And it's yet another thing to actually… I don't want to utter it. Naming the evil only makes it real.
I cannot believe what a fucking pansy I'm turning into.
I, of course, blame Rosalie Hale. For setting the stupid challenge.
The challenge. The damned bet. I want out. I just do.
But how to bow out gracefully from a bet that I could probably win with a phone call?
Especially since I refuse to sleep with Bella under gambling circumstances. That shit ain't right.
I can sit here and pretend I don't know why it ain't right; I can try to convince myself that I've grown and matured and have finally turned into a decent human being after years of neglect toward my ethics and morality. Gambling over someone's body? Wow. What a jerky, disgusting motherfucker I've turned out to be; I have decided to amend my ways. Sure.
But no. That's not why. I am still disgusting. If I weren't, I would have told Bella about the bet the minute I realized I wanted out.
The thing is- I'm holding back. And I think the reason I'm holding back is because she is, too.
I know enough about her to sense that not only does she desperately want to fuck me, but that there's a reason she isn't doing it.
Call me childish, but I'm not going to be the first to give. No matter how much I want to.
And I can't tell her about the bet. I just can't.
Not yet, anyway.
So that leaves us with Edward Cullen, sick, manipulative bastard. Edward Cullen, connoisseur of cunt-
-who has feelings for a girl.
A woman. Whatever. For Bella.
I refused to face these feelings. Acknowledging they exist is enough, thanks.
But they were getting harder to ignore.
Every time I saw her, I wanted her to come over and stand with me.
Every time Jasper sidled up and pulled her to his side or planted a kiss on the part of her hair, I wanted to slap the toothpick right off of his stupid lip.
Every time Newton glared at her from across the courtyard, I wanted to beat the stupid poorly knotted tie off of his neck.
I just… I was fucking done. I didn't want to share her with anyone.
This is a problem.
Not helping matters at all were Rosalie and Alice, who seemed to be everywhere all of a sudden.
After that first night that Bella urged me to steal third, things had spiraled for the better. Or the worse, depending on your world view.
We woke up, limbs entangled, her not wearing anything except my boxers and a skimpy tank top. We weren't cuddling, but we were pressed up against each other, her hair in my face and I didn't care one bit that it was choking me. I had smiled, and the smile turned into muffled laughter because I remembered that I had fucking jizzed on her damned chin. And she had laughed about it. What the hell kind of girl laughs at that shit? She wasn't offended or horrified or even bothered by it- and that's when I realized that Isabella Swan just was not like anyone else out there.
I reluctantly pulled away from her warmth and admired the breast that had escaped the confines of the almost shirt she was wearing; I seriously had to resist the urge to touch because we would just be late for class again. I showered and was at the bathroom shaving when she slithered in behind me, wrapping her arms around my torso and tugging at the towel I had fastened around my waist. I winced when I shaved over my chin; she had somehow clawed into my jaw and it had left purple scrapes in my skin.
"Oh, shit. Did I do that?" Her brow furrowed and she roughly turned me to face her, placing her freezing ass hands on my chin, which actually felt fucking good. I grinned lazily down at her.
"It's only fair. You marked me, and I got you back. Not permanently, but still."
She playfully shoved my shoulder and I grabbed her wrists, looking down into her eyes. She was holding her breath, and I couldn't tell why. She had mascara smudged under her eyes and her lips were swollen and chapped. She looked delicious. Oh, shit. She had a fucking hickey under the strap of her tank top. Sometimes I forget myself. Oops.
Her hair was wild and unbrushed and she seriously needed to shower. I reached out and traced around the hickey, hooking my finger under the thin strap to move it.
"Sorry. I guess I did leave a permanent mark," I said, and she looked down to where I was massaging.
"You fucker. I haven't had a hickey since the eighth grade." But she was grinning up at me. We stared at each other for a few seconds, then she grabbed my disposable razor and I held my breath as she indicated with it for me to turn my head. I looked up and to the left and tried not to gasp as she slowly scraped at the scruff under my chin; right at the jugular. The girl could cut me, but I knew she wouldn't. She was careful like that.
"There. Smooth as your scotch," she whispered, running her cold fingertips across my jaw. I grabbed her hand, bringing it up to the scratch marks on the other side. Her eyes widened as I leaned in toward her.
"Seriously, Swan. Your circulation sucks, but at least the cold helps with the damned brand you left on my face," I grinned, and she jerked her hand back, slapping me on my bare chest.
"Get dressed, Cullen. You have underclassmen to order around and I have boys to tease."
The days that followed sucked.
I couldn't stop thinking about her. I didn't want to. I had taken to throwing things at her in class, kicking her chair. Grabbing her ass when we passed in the hall. Normal Edward things, but this time I wasn't doing them to annoy her and keep up my asshole image. I did them because I just couldn't fucking help myself. I craved her attention.
Problem.
We were at a stalemate now; a wonderful holding pattern that I desperately wanted to break. And she was equally frustrated, too. We both knew there was this thing, this issue. I knew what mine was, and I needed to know her deal, too.
But for the first time in recent memory- I was scared. Scared to ask. Scared to admit. To own up to my status as a dirtbag. I wasn't sure if it was because I couldn't stand the look of repulsion on her face when I told her about the bet- or if it was because I was afraid she wouldn't be the least bit surprised that I had entered into such an arrangement.
So I decided to take the chickenshit way out- and did nothing. Well, nothing about the bet and the stalemate.
Because I was doing things. Hot, delicious, fingery things. To her. To myself. I don't think I've ever had such a winning streak of sexual activity- not every night activity, anyway.
Nor do I think I've ever denied myself a good fuck for such a long stretch. It had been ten days at this point. Ten days of touching her, of making her come long and loud and hard. Ten days of the best handjobs I will ever have.
We hadn't even gone oral yet. We had somehow agreed without discussing it that that would complicate things too much.
The fact that I devoted this much time to not eating pussy was fucking with my head. And it was making me sloppy.
It was my day to pick Bella up, and we were almost late because she was wearing a skirt and those Docs and she had to fucking show me that she was wearing a new pair of low-slung boy shorts and I just lost it. I mean, the Caddy is automatic and all, so of course I let my fingers wander while driving. But when she reclined the seat and propped her foot up on it, bending her knee and spreading both legs wide for me, I almost ran off the road. She had one hand in her hair, the other pressed against the window and she was sighing, biting her lip as I lightly ran my fingers up and down, touching feather-light and strumming along to the guitar of Blackbird while her hips pulsed with the beat. Her breathing was heavy and her eyes were closed; she had a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth, and I could see her cumface on its way, so I pulled over so that I could focus on it. She came silently, and I strummed relentlessly, slipping around and around but never in until she had to move my hand, her hips jerking away as she laughed.
"Knock it off, Cullen. You know it's too sensitive right after. You're too talented for your own fucking good," she said, slipping her new underwear off the one knee it had been wrapped around and tucking it into the breast pocket of my blazer.
"Don't you think you'll need those? The last thing I need today is to see Emmett play his up-the-skirt grabass game and to have me punch him. I mean, the guy's bigger than me, but I can't have that shit happening under my watch," I grumbled, trying to stifle the smile that I knew was creeping up my face. I knew she had been all wet before I even started massaging her thigh, so knowing that I'd be able to smell her whenever I wanted all day just made me fucking happy.
"Relax, Edward. I've been deflecting the unwanted advances of the male gender since I turned twelve and got tits. I can keep Emmett away from my ass for one day," she said, flipping the visor down to check her face. Like it needed to be fixed. She was perfect. Orgasms were very flattering for her complexion. She looked like a fucking painting.
"We're gonna be late. Let's motor," she said, snapping the visor back in place and turning to me. I kept staring and she looked away, self-conscious.
"What?" she whispered, almost to herself. But of course I didn't answer.
And so things went.
We got to school just as everyone was walking to class, and she made excuses about me being late and I in turn blamed Mommy, and no one thought anything was up. So far, so good.
Until just before lunch when Bella passed by me in the lunch line, patting my breast pocket and then smacking my ass, hard. I looked over my shoulder and grinned at her, and that's when I noticed that Jasper was standing at our table, watching our little exchange. He had that stupid freaking toothpick balanced on the tip of his tongue, flicking it from side to side. His shirtsleeves were rolled up and his hands were shoved in his pockets, jiggling his keys and my wallet chain. His head cocked to the side as he watched us interact, but Bella didn't notice and walked over to him, throwing her arms around his waist and looking up at him. He looked down at her and put his palms on her shoulders; he leaned forward and whispered something in her ear, and she giggled- and I bristled. Couldn't help it. He looked up and met my stare, and I realized- he was doing it on purpose. Gauging my reaction.
Fuck.
I'd have to really watch it in the future.
Easier said than done.
That day, we had soccer practice, and I was completely distracted by Bella sitting with a bunch of girls; she had gotten some freshmen to drag a bench over to the fence so they could sit while watching us play. It amazed me that in all the years of the girls coming to watch us practice, none of them had ever thought to use their tits to get some guys to bring them a seat. Of course, the enterprising young Miss Swan was the one to break from the mold. That's my girl.
I kept missing passes because I was staring. I couldn't refrain. She was just so cute sitting there, trying to not be annoyed by the inane chatter that I'm sure was pouring from Jessica and Lauren's naughty little mouths.
"Oi! Cullen! Watch your shit!" Jasper was trying to be smooth. Of course the girls were eating it up. Dick.
"If you'd pass worth a damn, I'd pay attention, bitch," I growled, kicking the ball straight at him. He caught it neatly, and I simply turned and walked off the field.
"Hey, bitch. Wait up. Seriously." Jasper had caught up to me, and he wouldn't have kept up if his legs weren't as long as mine. He reached into his shirt and pulled out two cloves, sticking them both on his lip and lighting them before handing me one. Fucking cloves.
"Thanks, Captain," I sneered, inhaling and enjoying the burn. I saw Bella follow the two of us with her eyes from the corner of mine, but I decided not to make eye contact yet. Jasper and his all-seeing gaze would definitely catch that.
"What's with you lately?" he asked as we entered the locker room. I chucked the half-smoked clove at the trash can, enjoying the rain of sparks as it hit the wall before skidding off and rolling into a puddle. The sizzle hissed through the air, and I flipped my shirt off, ignoring the question.
"Edward. You can tell me. Is it…" But he didn't finish. I think we both knew what he was going to say. The fact that he didn't finish his sentence worried me. He seemed to cotton on pretty damned quickly that something was going on between me and Bella, and he'd normally congratulate me on hitting that shit, about being the first.
But he didn't. And I knew that he and Bella were especially close. Did he know things?
Did she confide in him?
Fuck, I hope not. If he ever found out about the bet, he'd be pissed. I mean, I knew he was in love with Alice and all that, but he simply didn't stand a chance. And while it might hurt him if I fucked her, I also knew he wouldn't hold it against me. He knew what I was like. He knew what I did.
While it was comforting that my best friend was cool like that, it had never bothered me until just then that our way was just fucked up.
I guess that means I'm fucking maturing or something.
"I've got stuff on my mind, is all," I responded, somewhat lamely. He raised his eyebrows at me before turning to go to the shower. It's not like we told each other everything before braiding each other's hair and exchanging friendship bracelets, but we always talked about girls. Always.
As he turned to walk into the shower, I could feel a chink in our friendship armor.
Over a girl. This is definitely serious.
When I left the locker room, Bella and the other girls were nowhere to be found, and that just made me grumpy. There were always girls waiting. I guess we took too long. And I needed to sort some shit out, but Bella wasn't there.
I sped home, hoping to find her waiting. It was a bit early for our time, but I sort of wanted her to be able to sense that I needed to talk and mess around. I knew it would make me feel better. I just… needed her to be there.
I of course was waylaid by Tanya, who insisted that I eat a good, healthy dinner. She laid out a plate with all four food groups represented, insisting I eat up.
Then Carlisle called, and I had to endure some lame fucking lecture about my physics boat and how I'd better not knock up the Chief's daughter. My father can be such a tool sometimes. Like father, like son.
Finally, finally, I was headed upstairs, fucking exhausted and sore. My lungs hurt from Jasper's new fetish, my liver hurt because I just hadn't needed to drink lately, my muscles hurt because I had been taking my aggression out on the field, and well- my brain hurt from thinking and my heart hurt because I knew something was coming, something big. And hell, I'll admit. I was freaking scared about the big thing- I didn't know if it was going to be awful or awesome.
Honestly, it was quite thrilling. All these organ aches, and my body knew that there was one thing that would make the hurt go away.
Thrilling and fucking scary.
I opened the door to my bedroom, and I saw her form on my bed, curled up in a ball. Thank Christ.
"I'm glad you're fucking here. I've had a helluva day," I said, practically ripping my shirt off.
"What the fuck took you so long?" I froze. Not the voice I was expecting. I flipped the light switch.
"How the hell did you get in here, Rosalie?" My eyes glanced at the window- it was open, but not enough to have let her in.
"Mama Bear Cullen, Silly. You know she loves me. And who did you think it was?"
I ignored that.
"So Rosalie. What the hell can I do for you?" I had to go about my business like I would before. It no longer mattered to me that Rosalie Hale was on my bed. She had sort of become undesirable to me. I mean, she was still hotter than hell. Possibly more beautiful than Bella. But the girl had an ugly soul. And in this odd journey of mine, in discovering that I could be with a chick and actually care about what her mind was like, I had come to discover that that shit was important.
Ah, hell. One of these days, I'd get truly pissed at Bella for that. Maybe. I was too young to quit playing the field. Wasn't I?
"I came to gauge your dedication to the bet, Mr. Cullen," she purred, getting up on her knees and moving toward me. I had started to get undressed and was down to my boxers. I looked around warily for my jeans, but of course Mommy had already put my clothes away. I made a move to get a new pair from my closet, but Rose stopped me by putting her hands on my shoulders. She was warm and I could smell her Chanel and well, I couldn't help it. Edward Cullen's body reacts to the female form.
"Hmm. It's good to know that you're still happy to see me, Eddie. I was afraid that hanging out with the impertinent Miss Swan would start to affect you. Every good male specimen goes through their slumming it phase, and well. I hope it just doesn't ruin you." She was leaning toward me, shooting her sexy smile and swaying her hips. I must say, if I were in any state of mind other than the one of Bella-induced euphoria lately then I probably would've thrown her down and laid out over her, just to give her a taste of what she was missing. But I was just too fucking tired, and I needed to see Bella. Who would probably be climbing my newly-cleared trellis any minute now. Shit. I needed Rosalie to leave.
"The bet is still on. Like I said- personal challenge. And she's quite challenging, I can assure you. It's like she doesn't want to fuck me, which is annoying," I said, pulling away from her slightly so I could look into her eyes. I didn't necessarily want to see what was in them, but I needed to know that she didn't suspect anything. I still had yet to figure out how I was going to get out of the bet, and the last thing I needed was the vengeful Hale to get angry at me. The last time Rosalie got pissed at a male, Chief Swan had to arrest the guy for date rape. So annoying, and his parents were quite embarrassed.
"Good. I'm looking forward to you collecting, I must say," she murmured, reaching down to make sure I was still interested. Which, unfortunately, it appeared that I was. She lightly fingered through the thin material of my boxers, and I shifted a bit, annoyed that I liked it so much. Where the fuck is Bella?
Rose leaned up and kissed my chin before hopping up and off my bed.
"Ta," she said, blowing a kiss over her shoulder, her manicure glimmering as she waggled her fingertips at me. I shot her a fake smirk and waited for the door to shut before I raced over to the window, opening it up further for Bella. I didn't want her to have to struggle opening it.
She never showed.
The next day, she didn't come to school.
Nor the day after.
I was kind of going into a mild panic mode.
I know I could have called, but I just didn't.
I still had my pride.
But by Friday, when Emmett showed up sans Bella… I started to worry.
Time to swallow that pride of mine.
I drove to her house. The Chief was gone, which was a good thing. Her barely functioning truck was half on the lawn, half on the driveway. I walked up and tried the door, but it was locked. I looked for the key, but it was missing. Puzzled, I walked around the house and noticed there were no lights on. Praying to the Gods of obsessed teenaged boys, I climbed the tree outside her bedroom window and looked in, but she wasn't there.
What's more- she had moved her dresser right in front of the window.
The message was clear. I was not wanted.
Fuck.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
After spending yet another miserable night alone, I was awakened by a cacophony of sound coming from downstairs. Seems like Mommy was hollering at the help again. I rolled over and grabbed my phone- eight new texts. One from Jasper- Where were you last night, Bitch?- I had missed one of Emmett's poker parties- and seven from girls who were also looking for me.
No Bella.
I pressed my palms into my eyes, knowing they'd be red all day. While I had slept, it had been restless and full of weird dreams. I hadn't gotten a good night's sleep since she was here.
I needed her back, if only so I could get my beauty rest.
I finally decided that if she didn't show tonight, I would call her.
The yelling downstairs was makings its way up, and I realized that it was headed in my direction.
There were two distinct sets of females hollering; one was Mommy. But the other was definitely not the help.
Suddenly grinning, I hopped out of bed and jumped to my closet, grabbing the nearest pair of jeans and hopping into them, eager to get to the hallway.
I looked up when my door was tossed open, relief plain in my expression at the beautiful woman standing in the doorway.
Tanya was behind her in one of her ridiculous 50s-era playboy bunny froofy see-through housecoats, her shiny satin pajamas dulling in comparison to the glowing face in front of it.
"Darling," my mother called, stepping forward to embrace me. God, she smelled good. I don't care how old you are, sometimes you just need a hug from your mother to feel instantly better.
"Mother. You look wonderful," I said, stepping back. She was dressed in her standard crisp slacks and blouse, hundred-year-old heirloom pearl necklace and matching earrings, and large canary diamond adorning her right hand. She never remarried; never would again. After Carlisle the philanderer broke her heart, Mother vowed to never be hurt again. Now she spent her time on permanent vacation with her flavor of the year.
"How's Rinaldo? How's La Cote D'Azur?" I asked, linking arms with her while Tanya glowered. She had to move aside as the two of us floated out the door and down the stairs. We chatted happily, Tanya trailing in our wake like the dilapidated little rowboat she was.
"Tsk, tsk. Look at this place. It's like the Liberace Museum had a liquidation and She just went for broke," my mother clucked, fully aware that Tanya was turning all shades of purple behind us. She was referring to the ridiculous candelabra that was adorning my downstairs Baby Grand and the weird textured velvet curtains in the living room.
"Not that I'm not glad to see you, but what are you doing here? Didn't you vow only to return if and only if the Historical Society decided to tear down that monstrosity of a Civil War monument outside of town limits?" We were ignoring Tanya, who was fluttering around, picking up the stray Glamours and empty martini glasses. That Mommy sure does love her Cosmos.
"Oh, I've been hearing the odd rumor about this hometown of mine, and it seems like a happening place again. An old friend of mine is in town, and I figured it was time to see how Forks is faring in my absence," she explained, helping herself to an espresso that Tanya had started. Grimacing, she muttered something about "inferior fucking French Roast" and dropped the little white cup in the sink.
"Come, darling. Let's do lunch. I would love for you to meet my dearest friend; she's wonderful. We're going to the Horatio."
"The Horatio? She must be important. I'll just go change. Give me five minutes."
"Hurry, darling. I don't want to keep her waiting. I'm rather excited to see her again. It's been ages."
I was very eager to meet this alleged friend of my mother's. While everyone in town knew Esme Masen-Cullen, not everyone was important enough to be labeled her "friend". "Acquaintance", perhaps, or even "Kissing Cousin". But rarely "Friend". My mother was of the oldest family in Forks, the founding family. "The Horatio" was the hotel named after my Great-Great-Great-Great-Great Grandfather Horatio Masen, the founder of our town. Carlisle may have been the town's favorite Man Whore, but my mother was the town's Reigning Royalty. Everyone wanted to be like her, and she generally met with ass kissery of the most blatant kind whenever she walked into a joint. I knew I would eventually enjoy the same level of brown-nosing, but for now, I was content to be the town's hottest boy.
I decided that anyone who impressed my mother was worth impressing, so I decided to go the debonair son route. This was exactly what I needed to get my mind off of Bella. I could flirt with the woman- Lord knows old broads responded well to my flirting. Hell, all I really had to do was flash that half-smile of mine and smolder a little bit and they got all wet. Some slip me their numbers; some offer their daughters up on a silver plate. It would get worse once I was out of high school, I just knew it.
I put on a blood-red Marc Jacobs button-up and some dark blue jeans, leaving the top button undone and rolling up my sleeves. I threw on my old beat-up black Chucks, just to remind everyone how young I was. Rubbing my hands through my unwashed hair, I decided I looked just tousled and tasty enough to charm the Chanel pantsuit off of whatever Lady Who Lunches it was that my mother was so excited to meet with.
I skipped down the stairs and offered my arm to my mother who beamed up at me. She really looked great- ironic that she had married a double board certified plastic surgeon and she never needed anything more than her La Mer and copious amounts of sunscreen. The woman did not look her thirty-eight years; it still annoyed the piss out of me that my father had traded her many times over for a younger woman each time. I wondered if the mystery friend was my mother's age; I hoped so. Sitting across from a botox'ed old bat would most likely gross me out and make it harder to practice my outrageous raillery.
Esme led us out to the garage and took out the keys to Carlisle's baby- his vintage Porsche. Ohh, he would be pissed. I loved it. She had bought him that car for their first anniversary. It had less than ten thousand miles on it, and I was always reminded of Ferris Bueller whenever he drove it. He had never allowed me behind the wheel, and I felt a thrill of anticipatory excitement for the day. I had nearly forgotten how much fun it was to be with my mother, and I vowed that I would visit her in Europe soon. She walked and talked with the air of a person used to getting her way, and I suddenly realized that she was where I got my sense of entitlement from. I could only hope I'd pull it off with the grace she did, and possibly grow out of the whole snooty jerk thing.
For now, I was content with my status as a spoiled asshole.
I opened the driver's door for her, knowing that even with Mother in town, Carlisle would not be happy with me driving his baby. She smiled and slid in gracefully, revving the engine and expertly tapping her pointed shoe on the gas; smoothly pulling out of the garage, we made our way into the center of town. Esme parked at the beginning of Main Street, and I rushed out to open her door again. Making sure she was on the inside of the sidewalk, I held her arm as we strolled down Main. She was big on me being a gentleman like that, and I didn't mind it one bit.
She tipped her head at the various greetings we got; it was like the owners of the little shops went out of their way to appear obsequious to the Doyenne of the Forks Elite. It simultaneously amused and annoyed me. Especially since I had fooled around with most of the daughters of said shop owners at one point or another since the fifth grade.
Finally, I spotted the ridiculous bronzed statue of my ancestor in front of the hotel named after him; one of the oldest buildings in Forks, it looked like a transplant from an old Southern Plantation, what with the bricks and the columns gracing the front. Horatio Masen had come from Virginia, seeking to spread the family's wealth and influence in the great unknown Pacific Northwest. Which he did, in spades. A small town folk hero, and the original Entitled A-Hole, if you listen to old family tales. I believed every one of them.
We didn't own the hotel, but we might as well have. As we strolled in, carefree and beautiful, the staff all came to attention. They always kowtowed to me whenever I went in, but with my mother in tow, they practically scraped the floor with their bowing and faux adulation.
We were ushered to a table by the big front window overlooking the fountain and rose garden; two double scotches were brought to our table without our having asked. They certainly knew their patrons here at The Horatio.
"So, darling. Tell me. Your father mentioned that you have a girlfriend, which seems to have been confirmed by the Playmate of the Year when she suggested I shouldn't interrupt you and your guest this morning," my mother said crisply, knocking her drink back in one smooth, practiced motion. I winced slightly; my mother was always well-informed of my activities and proclivities. Sometimes I told her, sometimes Carlisle filled her in.
"No girlfriend, Mother. As you saw, no overnight guests, either," I said, sipping my scotch. I wasn't quite ready to start with the heavy drinking again, and something told me I'd need to keep my wits about me for this maternal visit. I wasn't ready to tell her about Bella, either. Especially since I didn't know where we stood these days.
"Well, good. You're much too young to tie yourself down, anyway. Sow your oats and all that other jazz; I'd probably tear down any of the unworthy women who would attempt to steal your heart, anyway. Besides, something tells me you're not worth it yet, darling. No offense. You simply have too much of your father in you." That stung, Mother. Hell, she was right. She always is.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mom." She hated colloquialisms like "Mom", but she kind of deserved it. I was her baby boy, after all.
Another round of drinks was brought over, and my mother knocked another one back while continuing to chatter happily about the places she'd been and the next round of gifts she was planning on sending my way. My mind started to wander slightly. A girl with long, dark hair whipped around the corner, and for a half second I was reminded of Bella, which just made me lose track of my mother's conversation altogether. Trying to focus on Mother's words, I became aware of a gorgeous woman entering the front lobby of the hotel; it had started to drizzle outside and she shook her head, sending a spray from her shoulder-length hair all over the place and earning looks of disapproval from the employees scattered about the lobby. She took off her coat and I took in her slender figure. She was seriously hot for an older woman. She looked familiar, too; she must be someone's mom. I must find out whose so that I could-
"Oh, for Pete's sake. Can't you ever be on time?" My mother had stood up and was stretching her arms out; the fact that she embraced the new hottie, damp clothes and all, was a testament to how much my mother liked her. The staff noticed Esme Masen-Cullen embracing the stranger and was on her in a heartbeat, asking for her drink order.
"Esme Masen, you look fucking fantastic, as per usual," she exclaimed, her rich voice making my entire body stand at attention. Shit, man. It wouldn't be tough for me to flirt at all. Everything about this woman was making me sit up and take notice. She had these deep, amazingly dark eyes with a beautiful frame of lashes and a light spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. I smiled at her, making sure that it was the half-smile the girls all claimed to be crazy for. I even raked my hand through my hair, letting her know that I cared not about my appearance.
"Charming as always, darling. This is my son, Edward."
"I was going to say 'what the fuck happened to Rinaldo?', but I should have known better. He looks like Carlisle in the body, but that's a Masen face if I ever saw it. Nice to meet you, Edward. You look like fun," she said, turning her brown eyes my way and sucking me in. Jesus. I needed to take a breath and regain control of the situation. Something about the way she said my name made my body tingle.
"Edward, this is my dearest friend that I've been telling you about. Renee Hotchkiss."
Fuck. Me. Long and Hard.
"Miss Hotchkiss. I've heard much about you." I reached out and clasped both of her hands between mine, making eye contact and thinking fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.
"The least you could do was wait for me, mom," I heard behind me, and I froze completely.
"Well, honey. You took too fucking long picking out which manly boots to wear, and you know how impatient I get. I'd like you to meet my friend and her son. You guys probably know each other, but I don't want that to stop you." Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit.
"Bella's got an antiestablishment stance on life, but that never stops her from ensnaring every male within spitting distance," Renee mock-whispered behind her hand. My mother chuckled, respond similarly with "Just like her mother. And my Edward's never met a female he didn't like, yet he still finds himself above everyone." Renee responded with, "Just like his mother." Thanks for the cool appraisal, ladies.
"Edward, Bella? Do you two know each other?"
Only in the Biblical sense, Miss Hotchkiss.
Well, almost.
ahh, i do love edward getting biblical.
