The next day, Edward doesn't show up to school or to rehearsal. I'm not surprised in the least. I try not to let it bother me and keep busy. We work on the lighting of the set and thankfully, no one asks me where he is.
Yet when I get to my house and see Edward sitting in his car in my driveway, my heart starts beating overtime.
I ease out of my driver's seat and look his direction. He rolls down his passenger window and yells out my name.
With hesitation, I approach his car. I lean down and look at him through the open window. "Hey. What's up?"
"Will you get in so I can talk to you for a minute?" He looks rough. His eyes have dark circles under them and his face is a little pale.
His shirt is mis-buttoned, wrinkled, and not tucked in, and his jeans are worn out and ratty. I hadn't noticed that his hair was getting longer until today as it sticks out in all directions on his head.
"Are you all right?" I ask as soon as my door is shut.
He's picking at his steering wheel. "I will be."
"What happened?" I turn in the seat to face him more.
He shrugs. "Nothing really, I just came here to apologize to you. I don't remember much of yesterday, but I figured I was out of line with you after my mom said you brought me home."
I'm frustrated that he's shutting me out. There was something wrong, so I push. "Don't tell me it was nothing, Edward. You were upset. So what gives?" I say much more harshly than I mean to.
He takes a deep breath and exhales loudly. "It's just...my dad, he'd been raggin' my ass all weekend about college." Edward cynically laughs through his nose.
"Me? College? Can you believe it? He wouldn't quit about it even after I told him I had no want to even attempt to go to college." He shakes his head and looks away. "I'm definitely not going and it's eating him alive. It's like he doesn't even understand me or even care what I want. We can't get along anymore and yesterday I'd had all I could take. I went out, I smoked, then someone brought in some whiskey and tequila. Before I knew it, I was numb." He looks over at me, his eyes are so hollow. "And that's exactly how I wanted it to be. I wasn't even thinking about your play."
He starts to twirl a loose string on the knee of his jeans. "I don't do well with high expectations or with outside pressure, and I hate that I'm letting down my parents—but it's the way it always has been."
"It's partly my fault too, isn't it? All I've done is added to your pressure." I half ask, half state as I feel guilty and useless.
He doesn't answer me.
"Edward, you have to tell me these things—"
"Bella, no! Helping you, it's the best thing I've had to do in a long time. I actually like it, so—it's not like that. This play is easy for me and I think I've got it, but it's everything else I'm not so sure about."
He sounds sincere and I would like to believe that I'm not pushing him too much. "If you're positive Edward…"
"I am and listen, I truly am sorry about yesterday." His gives me that sad smile that makes my heart tear up.
"Honestly, I don't like seeing you like that, so don't do it around me again, okay?"
I throw him a smile back to let him know that I forgive him. He starts to drum the steering wheel with both hands, "Now tell me, how far did I go?"
My eyes get big and those butterflies start to flutter in my belly. I so don't want to tell him this. "It doesn't matter." I say hoping he will drop it.
"Bella, tell me. Come on, I'm working on my damage control here."
I take a shallow breath that comes out all shaky and unsure. "You might have mentioned wanting me... or something like that." I say in one jumbled sentence. My mouth goes dry as I speak and it's all I can do to swallow my spit.
Edward laughs, "Figures. Leave it to tequila, the depressing truth serum."
"Whatever." I roll my eyes and look away. I ignore every cell in my body that has suddenly come alive.
"Why do you think that is?" He's looking out the window away from me, his drumming now slower and softer.
"Why does tequila make you say stupid things?" I ask confused.
"No, not stupid things, I was referring to the other part." He looks over at me, his head thrown back against the seat, and I feel like I am laid open and bare. It's uncomfortable.
It takes me a second to processes it all—what's he's talking about and implying. And it's never far from my mind who I am talking to and about.
"Get real Edward, if you wanted me in any way, it would only be because you know you can't have me. Isn't that what you do? Edward Cullen breaks all the rules, right?"
It doesn't sound nice or pleasant as I say it. Those words sound too harsh, too mean, too untrue.
His face is void of emotion, "You're right. That must be it." Then I hear the anger in his voice. It fills the cab of the car with ice.
I can't take it back now.
"Will you be there tomorrow?" I reach for the door latch.
He nods. "Oh wait! I read in one place in the play that there is a royal ball where Dudley and Elizabeth dance. When are we going to rehearse that?"
"We're skipping that part." I respond dryly.
"Because of me?" His voices rises and his eyes narrow.
"No, no, no. Because of me. I have two left feet. I can't dance." I say as I'm getting out of the car.
"What if I knew someone who could teach you, would you do it?"
I turn back toward the car and lean down, "I'd try," I say with a shrug but I have little faith and anyway, it's not going to happen.
I slam his door closed, hoping he will forget about it.
He rolls his window down again, "Plan on going tomorrow after school instead of rehearsals. You can ride with me."
"What? I don't know..." I stammer. I really, really am uncoordinated.
"Just give it a chance? One day? One practice?"
And just like that I give in. One time won't hurt anything. Even though it might make a fool out of me, I think my ego can take it.
"Once," I answer.
He winks, "Tomorrow."
Then he drives away and once again, I am reeling.
"Life isn't finding shelter in the storm. It's about learning to dance in the rain." ~Sherrilyn Kenyon
