A/N: Alas, Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight not me, and the Beeb owns Strictly. But the plot is mostly mine.
Thanks as ever to my wonderful betas Mcc101180 and Rodeomom_95.
Contains some British slang terms. As usual there is a glossary at the bottom to help.
Chapter 12
BPOV
I was worried about Leah. She acted like she had it all together but what she was doing wasn't sane. I watched their dress rehearsals, and you could see just how good an actress she was. When they were preparing to dance, she was an ice queen, but the moment they started dancing, she melted and danced her American Smooth like a pro. Only once did I see her step on his toe deliberately. Sam really should have been grateful that the stiletto only made contact with his big toe and not his family jewels.
Edward saw me watching them dance and came up to me.
"How is she doing?"
"Better than expected," I responded. "I'd like to have dinner with her tonight to check, but I'm going out for dinner with Seth so I can't."
"You're going out with Seth?" Edward clarified.
"Yeah, he's helping me escape from Strictly for one night."
"You need to escape?" Edward asked, affronted.
"It's fun but can be a bit overwhelming. I just want a break for a few hours."
"By hanging out with someone you met through Strictly?"
"All talk about Strictly is banned. Sometimes it seems that it's all I think about. I need a break and a laugh."
"Where is he taking you?" he demanded.
"Why are we playing twenty questions? Are you jealous?" I joked.
Edward looked slightly thrown for a moment before replying, "Of course not, I hope you have a lovely evening."
"I intend to."
An uncomfortable silence descended.
"Perhaps I should keep Leah company tonight," Edward suggested, breaking the awkwardness.
I wasn't too keen on this idea; I liked being the top female in Edward's life. Nonetheless, Leah could do with a friend. But then Seth and I were her friends too, which gave me an idea. "I think Leah should come with out with Seth and me: two friends for the price of one."
"It could be three friends for the price of one," Edward not-so-subtly hinted.
"Are you angling for an invite?" I asked. "Desperate to spend the evening with Leah, are we?"
"Well, she's single now…"
"And on the rebound; not a wise idea. Anyway, you're supposed to be in love with someone. Unless Leah is your non-existent true love…"
"My true love exists, but she is not Leah. Although you do know her rather well… " Edward revealed.
He didn't know any of my close friends, unless…
"You're in love with Angela!" I cried, "Give that up right now, she is engaged and head over heels for Ben."
"I'm not in love with Angela."
"Rosalie…?"
"Not even close."
"She is a woman, right?"
"Yes, despite the hopes of many of my fans, I'm not gay," he responded, exasperated. "Now if you'll stop guessing for a few minutes, we can get started. It's our turn in the studio."
I grumbled. We were dancing to "I Believe in a Thing Called Love," a song that had been driving me insane since the third time we'd heard it, four fucking days ago, and to top that off, I didn't like the jive. It wasn't my dance, but finally I'd conquered the rhythm and was reasonably confident we'd do okay, perhaps not as well as usual, but passable. Two more days and hopefully I'd never have to hear that bloody song or dance a jive ever again.
After our reasonably successful practice in the TV studio, I went for my appointed costume fitting.
"Hello?" I called out as I walked into the empty costume department. Shelley Cope was usually rushing around, but today she was nowhere to be seen. "I'm Bella Swan, and I'm here for my fitting."
A beautiful young Indian woman came rushing out of a corner. She looked very stylish in a fitted floral miniskirt, tailored tee, sleek black bob and black geek glasses; the whole look was completed by a measuring tape hung around her neck.
"Sorry, Shelley is ill today so it's just me, and I only started work on Monday!" she babbled. "I'm Nessie, nice to meet you."
I shook her hand. "Bella. How do you do?"
"Good thanks. I'll just grab your outfit for this week." She ran off and dived into a rack of clothing. "Here we go!"
She came brandishing what looked like a glorified swimming suit. There was nothing to cover my legs at all. My cleavage would be on display for all to see, and the back was even lower cut than the front. The suit was covered in navy blue and silver fringing with diamante detailing around the waist.
During Strictly I had become used to stripping off in front of the wardrobe staff and the female dancers, so I whipped off my clothing and put the costume on. Nessie zipped me up and I stood on the pedestal so she could measure me.
In front of the pedestal was a full-length mirror that revealed just how much the "dress" revealed. I felt like a stripper.
"Bit revealing, isn't it?" I asked.
Nessie looked up from pinning in the outfit around my waist.
"No, I think it looks good. You pull it off really well."
I liked chatting with people but I had always found it a bit difficult to know how to start, and it didn't help that I was practically naked. Instead of spending the entire fitting racking my brains trying to think of something original to say, I just went with the obvious. "Nessie is a really unusual name; were you born with it or is it a nickname?"
"Who would name their child Nessie? That would be akin to child abuse!" Nessie laughed. "It's a nickname; my parents named me Nazeeha. It was a bit of a mouthful for my big sister to say, and so she nicknamed me Nessie. My mother was appalled that I'd taken on the name of a mythical monster, but it stuck."
"Nazeeha is a beautiful name. Where does that come from?" I enquired.
"Pakistan. I was born there. Moved here when I was two."
Pakistan, eh? That reminded me of someone…
"What is your favourite drink?"
"Excuse me?" Nessie looked confused, and rightly so. But I no longer cared; I was too busy playing matchmaker.
"I will explain all if you let me quiz you a bit."
"Okay…" she said doubtfully, "Whisky."
Well, that is certainly a way better a choice than vodka and soda.
"Do you make roti?" I enquired.
"Occasionally…"
Excellent. Mrs. Black would like her.
"Do you want to be famous?"
"God no! I would hate to be famous; I like my privacy. Unless of course, my career makes me famous—being famous for doing something well wouldn't be so bad."
That could prove to be a slight impediment to their relationship, but at least she isn't fame hungry.
"Rich?"
"As long as I've got enough money to live comfortably, I'm a happy girl."
That did it; she is bloody perfect for Jake.
"Are you single?" She looked a bit scared, so I quickly clarified. "I'm asking for someone else. I think you're just what a male friend of mine has been looking for."
Nessie looked somewhat relieved. "Yes, I'm single."
"Can I set you up on a blind date? This guy is funny and fit. You'll like him, I promise. Even if it doesn't work out, you'll still have a great night, and I can guarantee he'll pay."
Nessie considered the offer for a moment. "Well, I've got nothing better to do tonight."
Ten minutes later, I was walking back to the studio to find Edward when I ran into Jake. "I've just met the girl of your dreams."
Jake looked unconvinced at first, but as I told him more about her, he became less cynical. I gave him her phone number, and he promised to call her and take her out that night.
I'd done everything I could and left it up to Jake and fate.
Seth's phone had been off all afternoon and so I hadn't been able to get through to him to tell him that our party was doubling for tonight, so when we turned up at the Thai restaurant, he was a bit surprised.
He looked a little bit put out at first but recovered his composure soon enough.
It was a lovely evening where Strictly was barely mentioned, a rarity these days. Unfortunately, Leah kept bringing up her break-up. Apparently Emily had called her to apologise.
"She also claims it was love at first sight. Do they think I'm fucking stupid? Lust at first sight is more like it," she ranted.
"It could be pheromones or something like that," Seth suggested, "our bodies recognising the perfect match for reproducing or some such crap."
"It's all a crock of shit," I chipped in.
"This one here"—Leah pointed to Edward—"believes in it. Claims to have experienced it but won't tell us with whom."
"I don't see why I should" Edward defended.
"Apparently, I know the person quite well, but it's not you"—I gestured towards Leah—"Rosalie or my publicist, Angela. And it's definitely a woman. Any better ideas?"
"I don't understand why you're so interested in my love life. Can we please just drop it?" Edward pleaded.
"Is it someone on Strictly?" Leah asked. Edward refused to give her any hints, so she pressed on. "Tanya? No, you'd have made a move on her by now. Or perhaps it's someone who works backstage? Is it Mrs. Cope?"
Seth was looking at Edward and me oddly. There seemed to be some silent communication going on between them; Edward was shaking his head slightly and seemed to be silently pleading with him. I wondered what Seth worked out but decided to ask him later when Edward wasn't present.
"Well done. You've worked it out. It's Mrs. Cope. I took one look at her voluminous fun bags and fell in love," Edward responded, deadpan.
"Spoil sport," Leah moaned and we all giggled.
"So… Nick Clegg. Anyone else surprised he's a twat.?" asked Seth, radically changing the subject. And so started an in-depth discussion about politics that necessitated another bottle of wine.
The next morning, I was in my dressing room taking advantage of a rare quiet moment by writing when a knock came at the door.
With a heavy heart ,I closed my laptop and called out, "Come in," and in walked a very cheerful Jake—he was literally grinning from ear to ear.
"I owe you one, Bella Swan! She is a reet perfect lass. I think I love her," he exclaimed, sitting down in the spare chair.
"Whoa! Hold on there, Jake. Tea?" I offered and Jake nodded. "I'm glad you like her, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. Love, really?"
"I'm serious. I love her and I'm going to marry that woman," Jake insisted.
He stayed for his tea and chewed my ear off about how perfect Nessie was. It was almost enough to make me regret setting them up. After all, they were bound to have met eventually and then I'd have probably avoided hearing all the details.
What was it with all the men in my life believing in love at first sight? I thought women were meant to be the hopeless romantics.
Nessie was just as bad as Jake. When I went back to the costume department for my final fitting, I discovered that she was also love-struck.
The moment I stepped into the room, I was practically tackled by her. Two arms flew around my neck.
"I know that I don't know you well enough, but I'm so happy! He is The One. I just know. Sometimes when you know, you know, you know?"
I looked at the lovesick fool and flatly responded, "I know."
The rest of the fitting was spent with her listing all of Jake's best features. I was very grateful when the fitting ended and I was able to flee. When you're in love, it is quite easy to put up with people in love, but when you are single, it's plain depressing.
Although, I suppose that at least now I had Leah to get drunk with and complain about our man related woes.
At least Edward, who had rapidly become my best friend, was also single. We could be depressed together. But I have to admit that I find Edward rather more attractive than I should. Ever since I had met him, I had been trying to deny my feelings, but they were getting increasingly difficult to ignore, and the judges' repeated comments about our chemistry was not helping. So I just repressed those feelings, hoping that one day I wouldn't accidentally tell him and embarrass myself.
Edward was so bloody attractive I knew that he couldn't stay single for long. He was bound to unleash his one true love to the world, and I'd have to pretend to be happy for him while he paraded her, who would inevitably be tall, willowy and blonde, around. And I would probably be fantasising about the woman's demise. Although, Edward would never fall for a bitch, so I would probably end up liking her, too. Bitch.
I may have a cool new haircut and stylish new clothes, but I still thought of myself as "No Fella Bella," the same insecure person I'd been in secondary school. Still only good enough for closeted homosexuals.
Things in the green room were strained. Sam and Leah were sitting as far apart from each other as possible and studiously ignoring each other. The usual fun and supportive atmosphere was gone. We all faked happiness when the cameras were rolling and congratulated each couple when they finished dancing, but it was awkward. The only truly happy person was Jake, and he was annoyingly happy. Perhaps there is a certain amount of happiness and unhappiness available in the universe and Jake and Nessie's happiness counteracted Leah's deep depression.
No one wanted to be in the same room with Sam and Leah at the same time. It felt like there was a bomb ready to go off, slowly ticking away until it blew up in our faces.
It didn't help that Emily had turned up to watch. She had been given a front row seat, which may well have been the producers' attempt at pushing Leah's buttons in the name of good reality TV. I didn't think this was ethical, and I had had a word with the producers, but I may well not have bothered for all the good it did.
The rest of the dancers relaxed when they left the green room for their turn to dance. But the moment they appeared on camera together, everyone sat bolt upright and had their eyes glued to the TV screen.
While their rehearsal video was being introduced, they were standing close to each other but noticeably were not touching and their smiles looked exceptionally forced. The laughs they each gave when Bruce tried to make a joke about their "spat" were cold and emotionless.
Viewing the tapes of their rehearsals was painful for me to watch, and I had no clue how Leah bore it. They started with a clip of last week when they were head over heels in love and as they showed clips of their rehearsals, you could see Sam pulling away and not acting at all how he had before. It culminated in a clip of their break up, which had, sadly, been filmed. The whole thing had been shown in all its bleeped out glory on It Takes Two on Thursday night. Sam had gone on and explained that they had broken up but would continue to dance together. He had not gotten off easily – Claudia, the presenter, and the other guests were scathing about his behaviour, Bruno was downright rude, and Twitter was abuzz with support for Leah.
"We're all glad that you've put that nastiness behind you and have decided to continue," said Bruce. "Good luck."
And then they walked out onto the dance floor, again without touching.
Somehow the dance went really rather well. They both managed to remain professional about it not allowing their feelings to affect the dance. But the moment they stopped, they immediately separated and their behaviour returned to how it had been earlier.
"Was that the dancing equivalent of make-up sex?" Bruno asked. "Because that was HOT!"
Leah looked at Sam with what could only be considered disgust, and Bruno, and the public, were effectively told that there had been no make-up.
The judges got their comments over and done with as quickly as possible and Sam and Leah returned to us for their scores and brought the frosty atmosphere with them. They were rewarded with seven, eight, eight, eight, so perhaps from a competitive perspective Leah had made the right decision to continue in the end.
Thankfully, Edward and I were up next and were able to escape for a few minutes.
Our rehearsal videos concentrated on the times Edward had dropped me, and they looked even more painful than they actually were. I cringed.
"Let's hope he doesn't drop her this time," said Bruce, helpfully.
"Would Isabella Swan and her dance partner, Edward Cullen, please take to the stage," the announcer said.
Edward led me to the bottom of the steps and we stood in our starting positions.
"I Believe in a Thing Called Love" began and I hoped to God that this would be the last time I ever heard this song. We had chosen it because we thought it was hilarious, but now we were being driven crazy by it. Edward ended up hating it even more than I did after he tried to get the lounge band to recreate the faux seventies glam rock sound. In the end he had given up.
So the song sounded even worse than usual. It was being sung by the poor man's Frank Sinatra, and it was depressingly awful. It made me want to put my fingers in my ears. Unfortunately, I had discovered that it was impossible to dance with your fingers in your ears and wearing earplugs made me miss my cues, so I had no choice but to listen to it.
The jive was really quite unlike any of the dances I'd done recently. All of those were very much partner dances whereby Edward and I were constantly touching, and we could be in our own little bubble, ignoring everyone else. In our previous dance, I had a slight solo dance but it wasn't for very long. The jive, however, required us to separate and do exactly the same footwork at the same time, while interacting with the audience.
Our dance was fast and fun and Edward even revealed his prowess at air guitar. It was very different from our previous dances and was exhausting.
When the second chorus started, I took a deep breath and said a quick prayer. Edward hoisted me up and spun me round with minimal holding and minimal effort. He hadn't dropped me since Wednesday, but it had really hurt and I had the purple bruise to prove it. It had taken make-up a good ten minutes and a liberal airbrushing and three pairs of tights to cover it up. Of course, it would also be hugely embarrassing if I fell as well, putting aside how it would affect our scores.
Thankfully. I was soon back on terra firma and the audience cheered as we continued to dance.
With a final move that I like to call the floor polisher, Edward spun me around on the floor before we reached our finishing positions.
The audience cheered and we walked over to Bruce for judging.
"Well, I now believe in a thing called love, but do the judges?" Bruce asked, "Len?"
"You two are certainly proof of love," Len commented and I blushed. "I thought it was brave—particularly that lift. You managed it pretty well. Occasionally, Isabella, your footwork was a bit off but a good week again."
"Alesha?" Bruce asked.
"Can I just say that I love your dress?" Alesha stated. Well, at least one person loved the "dress." "You two have great chemistry and this dance really demonstrated that. I certainly believe in a thing called love. Keep up the good work."
"What do you think, Craig?"
"I think you bit off a bit more than you could chew with the lift, you just about managed it, but I think you should have done something slightly easier. I'm not sure those falls that Isabella suffered were worth it. Also, you need to work on your footwork for next week. Make sure you point your feet correctly. But you're still setting a high standard, so keep up the good work."
"Lastly, but by no means least, Bruno," said Bruce.
"I NOW BELIEVE IN A THING CALLED LOVE!" cried Bruno, standing up and banging his hand on the desk. "I doubted it before, but you two convinced me. Edward, I loved the air guitar. Who doesn't enjoy watching a man strum his guitar? And yes, it could've been improved in all the ways that Len and Craig stated, but it was hugely entertaining, and as usual, the chemistry was electric. See you in Blackpool!"
Edward and I jogged off to the green room to get our scores.
"Look at these two, I think they're a bit pleased with themselves," Tess commented as we came over.
"I'm just really pleased I wasn't dropped again. I couldn't handle another bruise," I explained and then turned to the camera. "Please vote for us so I don't have to risk being dropped again!"
The dancers laughed.
"The judges scores are now in," said Tess.
"Craig Revel Horwood," the voiceover announced.
"Eight."
"Len Goodman."
"Eight."
"Alesha Dixon."
"Nine."
"Bruno Tonioli."
"Eight."
"Thirty-three, good score," congratulated Tess.
We high-fived each other and sat down in the frigid atmosphere of the green room.
Time dragged slowly and the only time it reached normal speed was during Alice and James' dance. Alice was a very elegant dancer and choreographer, and this dance was anything but elegant. It seemed like James spent most of the salsa trying to hump Alice's leg. It was horrific. Jasper did not look best pleased when they came back, and he shot daggers at James. I was fairly certain that after the show, Jasper would give James a talking to. I figured that Alice would view it as bullying if I joined in, so I thought I'd leave Jasper to seek James out.
After one and three quarter hours of being stuck in the near constant company of both Sam and Leah, I was relieved when the results were in and we were all standing under our spotlights.
It seems that the British public are sadists because Sam and Leah were quickly announced as being through to the next week. They put on an awkward show of hugging each other for the camera, but it was clear that they hated physical contact.
Just when Edward and I were starting to get stressed about whether or not we were through, we were announced. Unlike Sam and Leah, our hugs were genuine and Edward even placed a kiss on the top of my head. He did that occasionally and I always found it confusing. None of my other male friends had ever done that to me, and I'd never seen Edward do it to anyone else. Perhaps it was a sign that he felt something more for me? I quickly quashed the ridiculous notion as best I could. And yet it remained in the back of my head—a little voice telling me that maybe I was his true love. The more rational part of my brain told me that it was complete bollocks, no more than wishful bloody thinking. Yet, I couldn't silence that little voice.
The dance-off came down to Laurent and Kate, and Peter and Tanya. Both couples had actually danced fairly well, but this was at hearts a popularity contest and apparently they were the least popular couples. In the end, Peter and Tanya danced significantly better, and so survived to dance another day.
This week everyone had decided that a party was not on the cards. Everyone wanted to avoid the prospect of being in the same room as Sam and Leah and lots of people were loved up and wanting to spend a low key evening with their partners. Edward and I were still buzzing after the show and had decided to go out for a meal We'd just got changed and were on our way out when Leah cornered us.
"Edward, I need your help," she said.
"What can I do you for?" Edward asked kindly, although I could tell from his eyes that he was a bit worried about what she would ask for.
"I need revenge."
"I thought your revenge was forcing him to continue."
"It was, but it's not good enough. It's not hurting or embarrassing him sufficiently. I need proper revenge on that-fuckwit-who-shall-not-be-named and I have the perfect plan, but I need your help," Leah expanded.
"I'm Sam's friend; I'm not sure I should help."
"He broke up with me on camera. The whole country knows of my humiliation," Leah reasoned.
"True…"
"If you were in my position, wouldn't you want revenge? If you and Bella had got together and then she dumped you on camera for your cousin, wouldn't you want revenge? This is the least I deserve. Like for like. Plus, I've already got the producers' approval," Leah pleaded.
Edward was clearly starting to be won over. "What do you want?" he huffed.
"We're doing the Paso Doble next week, and I have the perfect song. I just need you to help make the singers and band sound right. I don't want a repeat of what they did to your song tonight."
Edward took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What is the song?" he asked, resigned.
"'Gives You Hell' by the All-American Rejects. I considered 'Fuck You' by Cee Lo Green but the producers vetoed it."
Edward couldn't help but smile. "'Gives You Hell' is a perfect song."
"I know. Will you do it?"
"Okay. On one condition," Edward negotiated.
"What?"
"That I can help choreograph."
Leah smiled broadly and held out her hand. "Done."
Edward took Leah's hand and shook it. "I'll try and work it out tomorrow. I'll get back to you on Monday."
"Thanks so much. You're the best," she squealed and walked away, practically skipping.
We made for the exit, but before we could get there, we were cornered.
"Bella, Edward, can I have a word with you before you go?" asked Marc, one of the producers.
"Sure," I replied and we walked over to him.
"I have to remind you two of a bargain we made a few weeks ago. Edward, in order to let you sing, you agreed to let us choose one of your songs. We've decided to play our card now. Next week you'll be dancing to 'Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps.' Okay?" he informed us.
"Isn't that a bit of a ballroom dancing cliché thanks to Strictly Ballroom?" I asked.
"Strictly is not afraid of clichés. The choice is ours and we have chosen," Marc reminded me.
"Well, at least it's a good song," I conceded.
"And Edward, are you helping the band with Sam and Leah's song this week?"
"Yeah, and I'm choreographing their dance as well," Edward informed him.
"Why? Sam is a Paso champion," Marc enquired.
"I thought this was meant to be Leah's revenge against Sam? You can't ask him to choreograph vengeance against himself," Edward explained.
"True, but are you going to have enough time between your dance with Bella, the group Waltz and your professional dance?" Marc wondered.
"We're in Blackpool next week, aren't we?" Edward asked and Marc nodded. "I'd forgotten we're in the Tower Ballroom next weekend, but yes, I'll find the time."
Thankfully Marc soon left us alone and we were then able to make our escape.
As Edward drove us to a nice restaurant near his place, I asked, "What is so special next week?"
"It's the Tower Ballroom special next week, coming from England's premiere ballroom, in Blackpool Tower. So there'll be a group Waltz like you have in normal ballroom competitions, with all the couples on the dance floor at the same time."
That didn't sound easy. "Oh."
"Don't worry, you'll find it easy. We did really well in our Waltz, and this time it is just the same steps again and again. Nothing difficult. The only difficult part is the leading and ensuring we don't get boxed in, and I'll be the one driving, so you don't need to worry about that."
That made me feel considerably relieved. "Good."
"And all the professionals are going to be demonstrating a Samba, so we won't have as long as usual to practice because I'll have to practice that as well. But that shouldn't take much more than three hours to learn, so we'll get enough practice time," explained Edward.
"Three hours? You expect to learn a dance in three hours?" I exclaimed. How could they possibly learn a dance that fast?
"Yeah, I already know the steps they'll use; it is just a matter of learning the order and where to stand. I've been dancing for the last twenty-five years, I'm excellent at remembering steps, my muscle memory is great."
"So, I'm really slow?"
"You need to learn the steps and I don't, and that takes a long time. Anyway, I'm glad you take so long, it means I get to spend more time with you."
"And yet you still invite me out to dinner," I pointed out.
"Well, Ms. Swan," he said, looking away from the road for a second and straight into my eyes, "it seems like I just can't get enough of you."
I almost swooned. And just like that, his eyes were back on the road, correcting our now slightly erratic road positioning, and my heart was beating faster than it had ever beaten before.
The small voice at the back of my head started screaming at me, "He loves you, you're the one he fell in love with!" and I began to believe it.
Edward parked the car in the underground car park at his flat complex, and we walked to the restaurant, our hands swinging next to each other's. I could have reached out and grabbed his hand, and it wouldn't have been the first time we'd held hands by a long shot, but that was for work. Holding hands because we wanted to was another matter entirely.
It was a cold November night and I started to shiver. Edward offered me his arm and I gratefully put my hand in the crook of his elbow, snuggling up next to him for warmth. As with the forehead kiss, this wasn't something I'd do with any other man, but Edward was such a gentleman that I could see him proffering his arm to any cold lady. Maybe I wasn't special, but I still had a niggling feeling that I was.
The restaurant was very intimate; the tables were mostly set for two and there were candles on each of them. Looking around it seemed that all the customers were couples on dates. It was an odd choice of venue for a couple of friends. But then again, Edward had said the food was excellent.
We were quickly seated, and as I glanced over the menu, I knew that I'd spend the next hour deciding what to eat, and by that time the kitchen would be closed.
Edward noticed how I was salivating over every item. "The menu is good, isn't it? When I eat here, I find it difficult to pin down exactly what I want. We could always share," he suggested.
Share? That is what you do on a date. If this was a date, I probably should go all out, perhaps even flirt.
"That sounds like a great idea," I replied, twirling my hair around my fingers slightly.
"I can't decide between the oysters or the scallops to start. Would you like to share them?"
Would I like to share oysters with Edward? Hell yes. Breathe, Bella, breathe. Not wanting to sound desperate, I replied, "Ooh yes, they both sound delicious."
I don't actually like the taste of oysters, but watching Edward Cullen eat them was worth the taste. The way he tipped his head back and poured them down his throat was like pure sex, and it made me wish I had a spare pair of knickers. I actually had to distract myself in order to prevent myself from jumping him and making a huge fool out of myself. So instead, I closed my eyes and took a sip of my wine.
"Tired, Bella?" Edward asked.
"A little bit," I lied, "but I'm sure I'll rally."
I took an oyster and, ignoring the taste, I tipped my head back and swallowed it. I swear I heard Edward quietly groan.
"You're not ill are you?" I asked.
"No, what makes you think that I might be?"
"I thought I heard you groan."
"No, no, I'm fine," he responded quickly as his ears tinged red.
Perhaps we both affected each other. That was a nice thought. I decided to test this out and spent the rest of the meal eating as seductively as I possibly could. Constantly slowly licking lips, moaning slightly, I even described my white chocolate cheesecake as "orgasmic" and fed Edward a bite from my fork.
Edward did seem a bit less cool than usual, but I couldn't say whether I had caused that or whether there was another reason.
We left just before the restaurant closed and I turned to walk to the tube station.
"Where are you going?" Edward asked.
"Home. I'm going to get the tube," I responded.
"No, you're not. I'll drive you."
"You've had half a bottle of wine, you're not driving."
"Okay, then I'll join you on the tube," Edward suggested.
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm quite capable of getting myself home safely. And the round trip will take two hours. I'm going home alone."
"Okay, taking the tube is patently ridiculous. How about a compromise—stay at my place tonight."
The two glasses of wine I'd had weren't enough to make me drunk, but they were enough to make me bold—to make a small move. Heck, it had been way too long since I had sex and I'd spent part of the evening watching Edward eat oysters; I was gagging for it.
"Where?" I asked.
"At my place."
"No, where would I be sleeping?" I took a small step towards Edward, bit my lip and looked up at him through my eyelashes.
Edward gulped. "In my spare room," he quickly replied.
So, I was wrong, he didn't fancy me, let alone love me. Thankfully, I'd spent so long thinking this that it was easy for me to be resigned. I took a step backwards. "Okay. I can't be bothered to go home anyway."
We settled into an uncomfortable silence as we walked the short distance to Edward's. Clearly we needed to get over my come on, and quickly, so I racked my brainto think of a conversation starter.
"What do you have in mind for Sam and Leah's Paso?"
"In ballroom, the man always takes the lead, and this is particularly evident in the Paso Doble, although the woman is very strong and firm. I want to reverse these roles and have Leah taking the lead and bossing Sam around. I was thinking that it should end with Sam flat on the floor with Leah standing with one foot on his chest," Edward described. "What do you think?"
I smiled broadly; it was excellent. "I think that Leah will get the best revenge ever."
We went to bed as soon as we got to Edward's. The sheets in the spare room looked like they hadn't been changed since I last stayed there, but that didn't bother me. I put on the T-shirt that I'd borrowed from Edward, climbed in and immediately noticed how much the sheets smelled like Edward. They were definitely infused with Edward's scent, and they hadn't been before. Had Edward slept in this bed? No, of course he wouldn't; why would he do that? His room was the next one along. Whatever the reason for the sheets smelling like Edward one thing was certain; I fell asleep much quicker and slept deeper than I had in a long time.
Glossary
Fun bags: Boobs.
Lass: Girl
Reet: Yorkshire slang. A preface to emphasise a word, a bit like saying 'very.' Technically means 'right'.
Tights: Pantyhose.
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