You guys make me so happy.
Writeontime edited this, shared her thoughts, made it better, and added about 4,523,954 commas. She also deleted two. A first!
Ciaobella27 read this and told me it's not horrible. Like Writeontime, she's pretty, and funny, and very, very awesome.
I don't own Twilight.
The weight of his body is replaced with cool air that makes my face flush. I'm naked. Nothing is covering me. Not even him.
Edward lies next to me on his back, equally naked. I watch his movements as he rolls over onto his stomach. I watch him bring his right arm over to the pillow and rest his head on it. I've never stared at anyone's back for so long. I want to slide my finger down his spine. His head is shaking back and forth. In the span of a few seconds, I go from feeling extreme cold, the likes of which I have never experienced, to burning a heat that makes me want to jump out the window just so I can breathe.
I get up to look for Jasper's t-shirt. I realize now that Edward's bed is unmade. I'm torn between holding his sheets against my body to cover myself, and just moving quickly, because the sooner I find the t-shirt, the sooner I'll have less my of body exposed. Strong fingers grab my wrist and stop me. I want to tell him to let go, because it hurts, and not in the way he hurt me just a few minutes ago, because that hurt I would take again. I let out a small laugh that sounds more like a cough. The only reason I'm so ready to accept that kind of hurt is probably because it was a one-time-only hurt no one else will be able to cause again.
"Turn around," he tells me.
My hand is shaking as it pulls a strand of hair behind my ear. "I'm just looking for my t-shirt. It's...late."
My wrist is free, and I run the fingers of my other hand over the now pink skin.
"Fine."
I manage to slide off the bed and onto the floor where a discarded white t-shirt is lying next to his pants. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pull it on.
"The bike won't fit in the back of my car, you're going to have to leave it here overnight," Edward says. "I can put it in the garage."
"I can ride it back to Jane's."
"Or you can stay. But I guess that's not what you came here for."
I finally turn and see him on his back, still completely naked and thin and pale.
"I came to spend the night with you," I tell him. I take a deep breath and feel my nails scratching along my collarbone and then down my chest. He blinks and stares at my face.
"Listen, I'm sorry. You didn't want that," he says.
Want that? To spend the night with you? I really did. Or are you talking about what just happened? I didn't know that was even a possibility, not with how you've been touching me and treating me.
"Was it... were you a virgin?" he asks.
My voice is calm and strong and clear when I respond. "Yes."
He throws his head back on the pillow and whispers shit again.
"And you weren't," I say.
"No."
He wasn't. Did I ever think he was? Did I assume he'd never had sex before meeting me because his kisses were sloppy and his hands were sometimes clumsy? Maybe that was all me. He wasn't clumsy a few minutes ago. For a while, he was doing something very right. Something he's done over and over –
"I had a girlfriend. We were together since freshman year. We... yeah, I shouldn't be telling you about her now."
"Since freshman year? But not anymore."
"No. She lives in New York."
"So you guys broke up..."
"Yeah, I moved here," he says.
"You broke up with her because you moved?"
He nods.
"Do... Do you miss her?"
Edward runs his fingers through his hair and closes his eyes for a second.
"Honest answer? Or the one I want to give?" he asks me.
"Honest."
"I'm going to sound like an asshole," Edward tells me. I shrug.
"No."
"No?" I repeat, trying to make sure that I heard him correctly.
"I thought I would, you know – distance makes the heart grow fonder, or whatever? But it's like she never existed."
I don't respond to this because I'm not sure how I feel about it. Do I get to feel one way or another about his feelings towards his ex? On one hand, I think I do, because they tell me something about his character and personality. On the other hand, I don't think I should be judging him.
I lie down on the bed, and he covers my body with the sheet. I remember that I never looked for my shorts, but I guess it doesn't matter now. He covers his lower half with the sheet as well. My head hurts. We're not touching.
"In the interest of full disclosure, I've had sex with her and one other girl. We… we were on a break, and I met someone while I was on vacation with my family."
"Where?" I ask, like it actually matters.
"Whistler."
"Huh." I thought he'd say the Bahamas or Hawaii or some other warm place.
"Yeah..."
He yawns and quickly covers his mouth with his hand. Our eyes meet and he moves just a little closer. We lie on our backs but stare at each other, our cheeks on his pillows. My knees bend in his direction. He moves and his actions mirror mine. I like being in bed with him. I don't like this conversation, and I didn't like how I felt lying here naked right after he lifted himself off me, but I like being with him. And I want to have him touch me again.
"I uhh... used a condom with that random girl, the Whistler one. And I always used one with Chelsea... my ex. You don't have to –"
He stops and clears his throat.
"You don't have to worry about any, you know, STDs. I was looking for a condom, but you stopped me. I'm –"
"It's fine," I tell him.
"Bella, I came –"
"Don't worry. It's fine," I repeat.
"Okay." He asks no further questions, so I provide no further explanations. If it hadn't been fine, I would have pushed him off the second I realized what was going on. His eyes are on the ceiling, and he picks up a small ball that has been sitting on his nightstand and starts throwing it in the air.
It's my turn to yawn. It's so late.
"Are you okay?" Edward asks, catching the ball for the seventh time.
"Yes."
"Are you pissed at me?"
"No."
"You didn't tell me to stop. I – I would've stopped."
He throws the ball across the room and turns to face me. "I didn't give you the wine to –"
"Do it again," I interrupt.
"What?" he asks, looking young and confused and tired.
"I know you didn't try to get me drunk. I know you would've stopped. I believe that you don't have anything I can catch. I want to prove it because you won't shut up. Do it again," I tell him.
"Bella, are you sure you're okay? I know it's just sex and doesn't matter, but I know girls can be sensitive and emotional –"
You read in books that the pain is like a knife stabbing you in the chest. I hope I'll never find out what a knife in the chest – or anywhere – feels like. I don't want to know. But the pain I feel in my chest right now… nothing can be worse than this. It's just sex. It doesn't matter. What did he see when he looked at my face? What did he feel and think when he moved like that? Am I more Chelsea to him, or Whistler girl?
"It doesn't matter," I say, repeating his own words in an attempt to silence him.
"Of course it does. I'm not gonna fuck you if you're… I don't know. Are you drunk? Shit."
Am I? I don't know. I'm something.
His hands go crazy in his hair, pulling, tugging. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.
"Maybe you should sleep," he tells me.
"Fuck you."
"Excuse me?"
"Don't treat me like a child. So I was a virgin. Big deal. What? I'm some fragile thing you can't handle now? You knew it when you stopped, but you kept going anyway, and you weren't being gentle or sensitive then. You were on your knees… like, pounding into me. And – and, yeah, I wanted you to continue and I liked it, but… don't pretend you were a gentleman, and want me to sleep, and not do that again. You're not a gentleman. You want to fuck me. All your stupid slow kisses and breathing and – don't pretend."
"What are you talking about?" he asks, his voice shaking. That vein on his forehead is back and scarier than ever.
"You and… this isn't real. I've been living in a dream. Is this what you wanted? God, you're stupid. I would have done that the minute you met me, you didn't have to breathe on my neck and touch my hands and talk to me all night. You threw me a birthday –"
I start laughing until I'm brushing away the tears with the back of my hand, until my stomach hurts because I'm laughing so hard.
"So you think I planned this," Edward says.
"Not this. No."
"You never fucking think," he shouts. "Sometimes I wonder if that thing in your head works. Do you know how good you feel? I forget everything when I kiss you. I don't know what I'm doing half the time. I follow you around like… Fuck, you're so blind. I was with Chelsea for three years, and didn't… I've thought about fucking you every second I'm away from you, but when I'm with you… I get lost. I didn't want this."
"You didn't…" I start. My body moves away from his.
"Stop."
I rub my hands over my face, not knowing what to do right now. I can't stay here. I don't know what to believe. That he loses himself around me? Or that he didn't want to have sex with me?
"What am I supposed to do with you?" he asks. I turn to him, hearing the softness and sadness in his voice.
"What – what do you mean?"
He shakes his head and moves over me, trapping me under him.
"I don't know," he says, placing his forehead against mine. "I don't know."
His eyes close, and his breathing is so heavy and irregular and crazy.
"I ask myself that a lot too," I confess to him. His eyes open, and they're so green, and they love me, but he doesn't know. And if he does, he'll never put it into words. Not tonight. Not anytime soon. He knows this is something. That he knows. I can see. I'm crazy. I'm certifiable. I'm completely nuts. I scare myself.
"But," I continue, "I don't want to know the answer right now. I just like you. So much. I –"
And his mouth tells me more than he could ever say with words. He isn't fumbling or clumsy or sloppy now. He's taking and taking and giving and giving, and adjectives won't work because this is us. And we, we don't need them. They're useless. He stops and moves his lips to my neck, and I hold him and hold him so tight.
"I… I love your skin," Edward tells me, "but I just want your mouth."
He has it. Over and over and over again. And God, his body against my body. This is not like the last time. The first time. This is – this is all those things you read about and laugh at because none of it can be real. This is all those things but more and more, because this boy kissing me in his bed is the only thing I want to breathe. These sounds. I could hear them on a loop for a thousand years. And I tug and I pull and I scratch and I lick, and I kiss and kiss and kiss, until we both let go and his laughter is the sweetest sound. I try to tear off the t-shirt but I'm pinned under him. I tell him, "Edward, I want to feel your skin against mine," and he is so serious now. He helps me and throws it away and his hands… his hands grab my breasts and they're so rough. And his mouth. It makes me cry. Good cries. Loud ones. He covers my mouth with one of his hands and laughs and licks and laughs and sucks and laughs and kisses my skin from my throat to my belly.
"Come back," I demand.
His eyes are shining as he complies. I wrap my legs around him and rock and rock and rock.
"You want this again," he says.
"Always," I promise.
Maybe Edward should be asking if it still hurts. Maybe he should be concerned about my feelings, and my body, and other silly things. But when he moves and I gasp he simply smiles, and when he moves again and again he whispers, 'I like you, Bella,' and says 'Oh God' and grunts and moves harder and he's breathless and 'Yes' and more questions. So many questions. 'Why are you so good?' and 'how does it feel like this?' and my name, and 'please,' and my body wants, wants, wants. I move my hands down his body and hold and grab and push him closer to me.
"Not just sex," he breathes, taking me into his arms and flipping us around.
"What am I…?"
He holds my hips and I look down and his fingers shouldn't be anywhere else. Just on me. Only on me.
"Just move," he tells me.
And I move and I touch and I cry out until I'm under him again. And we stay up all night, moving together. I tell him I love his fingers when he makes me scream. 'Lucky fingers' he says, as I kiss each one.
XxXxX
Ugh, my phone.
I crack open an eye and immediately close it again. So bright. Stupid phone. You ring and ring, then stop ringing before I can get my hands on you. I roll over onto my stomach to bury my face into the pillow, and hit something hard.
It doesn't move.
I open both eyes this time and see him. Sleeping, messy hair, naked. My eyes fall on the alarm clock on his stupid nightstand and see that it's already 11:23. On my birthday. I should be with Jane. My parents will freak. We're supposed to be having lunch together in less than forty minutes. Lunch. For my birthday. I jump up and run into his bathroom. I steal some Advil from the medicine cabinet because everything hurts. In record time, I manage to clean up, but there's nothing I can do about the stuff on my neck that my parents probably don't want to see.
Back in Edward's room, I find my shorts and the sweatshirt I was wearing last night. I find my shoes and trip over the laces as I look around to make sure I have everything. Before I forget, I send Jane a text, because she's been calling me all morning. He sleeps through all of this. I consider writing him a note but don't have time to look for a paper or pen. I'll text him. Right as I'm about to walk out the door, I realize that I am not wearing the t-shirt I had on last night. I look for it on the bed, and he grabs me.
"Come back. Why are you dressed?"
He lifts the sweatshirt a few inches and kisses my stomach.
"It's almost noon. I have to go back to Jane's and change before I meet my parents," I tell him.
"Oh." He keeps kissing me until I manage to get away.
"I'll um, see you at school, I guess."
"School?" he asks.
"Yeah…"
I watch him struggle to sit up. His face is all scruff and eyebrows and puffy lips. Right now, he is Hat Guy, and my legs won't move. "Busy after lunch?" he asks me.
I nod. "I have plans with Jane."
"Important plans?" His smile makes my stomach all funny, and I want to jump on his bed and roll around with him and love him and ugh, I don't want to go to lunch.
"Yes, very important plans," I tell him. "She's my best friend."
"Best friend trumps boyfriend?"
Of course.
"Today, yes."
I watch the smile fade from his face. It happens slowly. For an instant, I'm pretty sure the smile isn't going anywhere, but then it's gone.
"I'll call you when I'm done with lunch."
His eyes close and he's lying back on the bed.
"Yeah, whatever."
I don't have time to deal with this, or to touch him before I leave, but I do it anyway. His eyes are still shut tight, just like Jane's when she pretends she's asleep. But Edward isn't pretending anything; he's just being rude. Still, I lean over him and run my thumb over his left eyebrow, then run my fingers over his cheeks. The corner of his mouth turns up and I see a flash of green before everything turns upside down. Somehow I'm on the bed, my head hanging off the side, and he's on top of me.
"Borrow something from Rose. I'll drive you to lunch and I'll drop the bike off later."
"My parents..."
"I picked you up this morning from Jane's because it's your birthday, to give you your present," he says, his hands up and down my body and his mouth on my ear, and neck, and throat.
"Stop wanting to have sex with me," I hum.
"Not just sex," he whispers, like he did last night. But his hands pry open my thighs and he chuckles when I resist.
"You're breathing like you want it," he tells me. "Say it."
Not fair. You're naked and on top of me, and the blood is rushing to my head, and last night your mouth did things no one has done before, and I want to lie open for you and have your scruff against my thigh and feel it there and keep it there. And you know this. It makes you laugh and tease and try until I give in.
"Bella," he sings, "say it or let me hang out with you and Jane this afternoon."
What? Why would he want that? Do I want that? I close my eyes and imagine an afternoon with him and Jane and being outside and laughing and eating and having fun.
"What if I want both?" I ask. "Do it. But hurry. Why is your cousin fat? How is anything gonna fi –"
Oh and he hurries. My shorts are off and he's inside, and I'm hanging off the edge of the bed, and this time he touches me too. Things happen faster this way. Twenty minutes later, I'm sitting across from my parents, ordering a burger and fries.
XxXxX
The second my father leaves the table to smoke outside, my mom leans over it and starts asking questions.
"Bella, he's so handsome! And polite! Ignore your father, he's been grumpy for days. Did Edward give you something nice for your birthday?"
"Um, a hat," I mumble.
"A hat?" Her face falls and she looks at me with so much pity in her eyes that I almost laugh. "Oh, he'll learn. But for now, he's too pretty to throw away."
Silly mom. Dad gives you a daisy and you act like he just handed you diamonds or a brand new car.
She grabs my wrist and frowns. "My little girl. Is he nice to you? Does he treat you well?"
I nod. "He gave me the hat because he's taking me to a baseball game on Saturday."
"Baseball?"
"Yeah... He's from New York. The Yankees are playing? I don't know, but I really want to go," I tell her.
"Are Jane or Jasper going?"
"No."
Her fingers disappear from my wrist as she considers this.
"I'm sure your father will agree to let you go," she tells me.
"Agree? I'm an adult!"
I feel a hand on my shoulder and watch as my mother raises her eyebrows.
"An adult living under my roof," my father's voice reminds me. But he's smiling when he takes his seat across from me just a few seconds later.
"So what am I agreeing to let you do?" he asks.
"Go to Seattle for a baseball game."
"Night game?"
"I don't know..." I admit.
"Who would you be going with?" I see the playful smile on his face and allow myself to relax.
"Edward."
"Edward," he repeats.
"Charlie, he's a nice boy. So polite. Janey and Jasper like him too, don't they, Bella?"
"Yeah…"
"Well, as long as Janey and Jasper approve, sure! Bella can go to the game with Edward."
I roll my eyes to let him know his sarcasm doesn't amuse me.
"What's wrong, Bella? I just agreed to let you go to the game," he says.
"Sure you did…"
He stops smiling and I see him looking at me from the corner of my eye. He keeps his eyes on me until I'm forced to meet his gaze.
"I met the boy and your mother's right – he's very polite."
I bite my bottom lip because a smirk is threatening to show itself on my face. Polite. Yes. His eyes get big and wide and his face is so serious when he introduces himself. Shoulders back, back straight, handshake firm. Definitely not the boy who dares to smoke in his bedroom in the middle of the night when his parents are gone for the weekend, while his girlfriend lies naked on his bed, playing with the fascinating amount of hair on his chest and down, down…
"Bella!"
"I'm sorry, I'm so tired. Jane and I –" Jane and I spent maybe fifteen minutes together last night, and then I ran off and didn't even call her this morning. I run my fingers through my very silky hair. Rosalie's conditioner was awesome… I can't look my parents in the eye right now. I nervously tug at my hair with one hand and play with a packet of sugar with the other, until my mother says my name again. I immediately stop.
"Is that Jane's dress you're wearing? Have you lost weight, sweetie? Charlie, tell her she needs to eat. Five fries and half a burger don't make a nutritious meal."
"I'm eating dessert. I'll eat the entire thing," I promise them.
"Half the burger…" my dad mutters. "Without the top bun, and half the cheese scraped off."
"I ate a lot last night. I had pasta salad, and cake. I had pizza. Mom –"
"Don't get upset, Bella," she says, her voice as soft as the look in my father's eyes. "We just worry. I don't want that woman's influence on you. Is that her dress?"
"Jesus! No! I borrowed it from Edward's cousin last night after I spilled something all over my jeans. This is the smallest thing she had. It's a medium."
The look they exchange tells me to run before either of them has a chance to say anything.
"You were with Edward last night?" my mother asks.
"You were at Edward's last night?" My father is more observant, and a better listener.
"Yes. Dad, I told you before I left that I was hanging out with friends for my birthday. Edward invited us over. His cousin was there. Jasper and Emmett came too. We ordered pizza. Mom, he never listens to me. He –"
"Sorry, sorry. My fault, Renee. Bella's right."
My mother shakes her head and looks upset. "Where have I been all week?" She turns to my father and continues to shake her head. "Where did you meet Edward?" She turns back to me. "Why didn't you tell me about him? You were out with another boy just last weekend. Bella, I'm confused. Were his parents there last night? Did you even spend the night at Jane's?"
"Renee, enough. We're here for Bella's birthday. I met Edward at the house a few days –"
"At the house!" she exclaims. "What was he doing –"
"Renee, calm down." He turns to the waitress who just brought over dessert. "Thank you." He smiles and turns his attention back to my mother.
"Bella and Edward stopped by the house after they were caught in the rain. They had some lunch and did their homework. He's a good kid. I trust him. I trust Bella more."
She smiles. "Charlie, I don't know how you're so calm about this, but if you approve, I'll stop with the questions. I trust you," she says. I don't want to know what's going on under the table, where her hands disappear.
Gross. She's just holding his hand. Or squeezing his thigh. She does that a lot. Gross.
My father clears his throat and wipes some chocolate sauce from the corner of his lips with one of the tacky napkins the waitress brought over. "So Bella, if I call Jane's mother, she'll tell me you were there all night, right?"
"I knew this wasn't over," I mumble. Something's not right. I haven't forgotten the look on his face when he first saw Edward in the kitchen. The eerie calm he exhibited when Edward and I drove up to the restaurant today. The way he claims he's okay with all of this. I don't know why he's pretending. I didn't know he was such a great actor. He's really pulling it off well.
"What's that, Bella?" he asks.
"You have something against him. I saw the way you looked at him. Have you seen him before? Is he, like, a serial killer you're trying to catch? Maybe you shouldn't be letting me spend so much time with him. Don't even bother pretending you don't know what I'm talking about, dad."
"Charlie, is she right? Do you know Edward?"
"How would I know Edward? He's just a kid."
With a smile and a pinch of my cheek, my father sits back and starts talking about Aunt Liz's upcoming visit. That's all it takes for the look of death to disappear from my mom's face. She was so pale just a few seconds ago, but a few words from him and her cheeks are rosy again. He's a liar. And this brownie sucks. I catch her staring at me a few times, but she turns her attention back to him before he notices. Her smile isn't real. Another bite of the brownie and I give up. I take out my dying phone and text Jane that I'll meet her at her house in half an hour. I hope her mom's pills are accessible today. You never know with Mrs. Whitlock, and I need to take something for the ache I feel in my legs and my head and just about everywhere. Never ride a bike to your boyfriend's house and then spend the night having sex with him after drinking half a bottle of wine. Or do it, but have tons of painkillers around. After some deliberation, I text Edward to meet us at what he refers to as 'the meadow' at four-thirty. That gives me plenty of time alone with Jane before he shows up. Hopefully, the clouds won't turn to rain.
XxXxX
"Bella, it looks disgusting. Put the scarf back on," Jane says.
"No. It's itchy." I hand the scarf back to her before we step out the door. She tries to shove it back into my hands, but I shake my head and push it away.
"It's not itchy, just put it on!"
"Oh my God! Stop making such a big deal out of a few hickeys."
"I can't believe you let him do that to you. It's so…wrong," she says. The look on her face makes me want to smack her.
"He did that to me because it feels good. Jesus. My dad totally noticed and didn't care. So please, enough. They'll go away!"
"He didn't care?"
I shake my head. "He looked at me and then just started talking about having beef brisket for dinner tomorrow. I don't think he wants to know details." I laugh, but Jane looks horrified.
I punch her lightly in the arm as we walk to my truck. She smiles at me and I pull her into a one-armed hug. I quickly realize that I have forgotten something.
"My present! I'll be right back," I tell Jane. "Wait for me in the truck."
I run up the stairs and into her room to grab the drawing she gave me last night. On my way back down, I run into Jasper.
"Did you fuck him?"
"I fucked your sister," I yell. It's a joke between us, and while it makes no sense, it always makes him laugh. I don't know when it started. Probably back in middle school.
I jump into my truck and carefully place the drawing between us on the seat.
"You two are such idiots," Jane says. "I heard that."
"He's the idiot. Look, I've lost weight – these jeans used to not fit at all," I tell her, jumping a little in my seat as I fasten my seatbelt.
"You can have them," she tells me. "I hate that dark wash. They're ugly."
Um, no they're not.
"No, they're your jeans – and you bought them after having stared at them for weeks. They're ugly now?"
She shrugs. "I'm over them. Just take them."
"I'll borrow them until they stop fitting again."
"If you continue not eating during lunch, that won't be a problem."
I don't say anything for a few seconds, but when I slow down at a stop sign, I decide I don't want to let Jane's comment go without addressing it.
"How do you know what I'm doing at lunch?"
She shrugs. "Jasper said you and Edward just eat each other's faces."
"Ew. Not true. And if he has a problem with that, he should stop hanging out with us."
"Is that right?" she asks.
"Yes," I reply, in the same annoying tone of voice she just used. She's so bad at trying to make fun of me and the things I say. She's been doing it a lot lately, but isn't getting any better at it.
"So if we don't like what we see at lunch, we must leave you and Edward to yourselves. Is that correct?"
"Free country, Whitlock."
"Good to know."
I turn on the radio and look over at Jane to give her a smile, but she's staring out the window. She completely ignores my questions, playing with her phone and shrugging when I ask if she's okay. I guess she doesn't feel like talking about school or everything going on at home. I don't blame her. School mostly sucks, and talking about her parents is just depressing. I give up when I realize she's being difficult. It's my birthday. I'm here because I want to have a good time with my best friend. My best friend is acting like a child. She didn't even ask about last night. She's just giving me attitude. I'm here, and not with Edward, and she's giving me attitude. I turn up the volume because I know she hates the song playing on the radio. We drive in silence for a long time until she turns and speaks again.
"And yeah, the jeans fit, but they're a little tight. You can totally see fat along the waistline because your t-shirt is so see-through."
Jane takes out her sunglasses and puts them on. She sits back with her arms folded across her chest until I park the car.
"I'll try to get better at the whole anorexic thing," I say before getting out of the truck and slamming the door. "You clearly haven't been doing a proper job of teaching me."
Happy Birthday, Bella.
When does Edward get here?
Edward gets here soon. So many updates. Are you sick of me yet?
Thanks for continuing to read and review. You guys rock.
A lot of you asked for Edward's POV from the last chapter. While I don't have that, I have a little bit from this chapter. I can send it out if you'd like.
So let me know your thoughts on Edward, Jane, Charlie, hickeys, tight pants, loose dresses, and eating burgers without the buns.
