Lovegame- Chapter 12
Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight, and Lady Gaga owns her music and weird costumes. I own the rest of this.
EPOV
"So Cullen, I hear you have a pretty nice disco stick," Peter Crawford sneered in the locker room after practice on Wednesday.
The guys laughed, and my face burned in embarrassment and anger. Since the world had found out Lady Bella was dating Edward Cullen, quarterback for the Trojans, it had been a never-ending piranha fest with me as the bait. Bella kept telling me I'd get used to all the attention, and really, the attention I could handle. It was my teammates, people I'd considered very good friends, treating me differently and ribbing me constantly that was driving me crazy.
"Shut the fuck up, Crawford," I growled, and turned to my locker so I wouldn't punch him in the face.
"What's the matter, Eddie? Haven't been playing the 'Lovegame' recently? Got a little built up tension?" he continued, referring to Lady Bella's latest hit single. She'd written it before she even met me- it was the last single from her debut album- but it didn't keep everyone from assuming I was the one with a "disco stick."
I breathed in and out slowly, trying to calm myself down before I ripped him a new one, when I heard Emmett behind me. "You're just jealous that Edward has famous pussy all over his ass and you're lucky if Jessica 'I've-banged-the-whole-team' Stanley will touch you," he taunted Peter.
I turned to catch the look on Crawford's face, and it was priceless as the whole room dissolved in laughter. His whole face turned bright red, and I could swear I saw steam issuing from his huge elf-like ears. He clearly hadn't counted on anyone backing me up, especially since Emmett, my usual wingman, had been eerily silent this past week. I guess he'd decided to step up again, and I couldn't be gladder.
Then Crawford got a smug look on his face, and I knew I wouldn't like what he said next.
"So how is it, banging a dude? I heard that's why she dresses up like that- because she's packing downstairs," he said crudely, grabbing his crotch.
"I said, shut the fuck up!" I yelled, and flew across the locker room. I got in one good punch, feeling the satisfying crack of bone, before Peter reached out with his foot and tripped me so he could jump on top of me and wail on my face. I wriggled around like a caterpillar, trying to flip him off, but he had a death clamp on my ribcage.
"You like guys on top of you, Cullen?" he taunted, giving me a good one right on my cheekbone.
I grunted and moved my head quickly, avoiding another punch so his fist hit the concrete floor below me. He let out a cry of pain, and suddenly his weight was gone. I looked up to see Alistair English and a few other guys holding him off me, while Emmett appeared in front of me to keep me from attacking.
"You both need to calm the fuck down," he said angrily. "We've got the final game of the season this Saturday and you guys want to play who's got the bigger dick?!"
"This fucker started it," I spat, wiping blood off my temple before it got in my eye.
"I don't care who started it, I'm finishing it." He turned to Peter. "Now, you can be funny, but Bella is my girl and if you talk shit about her, you're talking shit about me. Say something about her again and you won't be fighting pansy-ass Cullen. Got me?"
Peter nodded slowly, and the guys holding him let him go. He glared at me before turning and going to the showers.
"Thanks, Em," I said quietly, after all the guys had gone back to dressing down.
"No problem," he replied. Then he gave me a serious look. "But what the hell were you thinking? He's just playing you, like we always do."
I nodded. "I know. It just seems more personal, somehow. All these people say all this shit about her and she can't even call them on it or defend herself."
Emmett shrugged. "It doesn't seem to bother her nearly as much as it bothers you."
"She's had more time to get used to it, I guess."
He shrugged again. "Besides, I owe you one for the advice you guys gave me about how to get to Rosalie," he said casually.
My mouth dropped open. "No way! She actually said she'd go on a date with you?"
Emmett puffed out his chest proudly. "Yep. All I had to do was tell her how drop-dead sexy she was, and how I needed to bone her like a fat kid needs cake, and she was putty in my hands. I took her out last night."
"Wow," I said, marveling that Bella's advice had actually worked. I guess all Rosalie truly wanted was for someone to talk to her honestly, just like Bella had said.
"Tell me about it," Em said, his eyes glazing over as he reminisced. "That woman has moves I've never seen before, and I've seen a quite a few. I swear to God, I'm in love."
I snorted. "No, Emmett, that's called lust."
"Well, whatever it is, it had me moaning like a porn star four times last night."
"Holy shit, Em! You already talked her into bed?!" I couldn't believe Rose would crumble so quickly.
He smirked. "Please, she was begging me to take her home fifteen minutes into dinner. Looks like you're not the only one with a disco stick, Cullen," he said, thrusting his hips suggestively.
I shook my head in amazement. Well, hopefully Rosalie would chill out a little now that she had Emmett to relieve some stress. She'd been a super Nazi ever since my date with Bella, the day Bella had walked out of the studio. She claimed she did us a favor by not ringing Bella's phone every five minutes, ruining our night, but I'm sure she's made up for it since then. I haven't had a single minute alone with Bella in days- there was always someone around, whether it was a stylist getting her ready for some promotion or Rosalie bitching about something or other. We'd even tried to help each other out in the studio bathroom once, but a sound engineer busted in and told us that the whole place had great acoustics… even the bathrooms.
I cleaned up quickly and left to head over to Bella's house. There would be several people there, finishing up Bella's costumes for the tour that was starting in just a few days, but she'd said I could come over for dinner. Pussy-whipped as I was, of course I said yes. I really should go home and study for finals week that was quickly approaching, but I was trying to grab as much time with her as I could before she left.
I had an uneasy feeling in my stomach as I pulled up to her place. Her tour and our upcoming separation were things we hadn't really discussed since she told me she was leaving. I'd mentioned then coming to visit her on a few stops, but I wasn't sure how often I could do that if I was training all the time for either the upcoming season or the NFL. And that was another stress- I still hadn't decided what I was going to do regarding football. We hadn't talked about that, either, because I think the plan was for us to just avoid talking about the future until we absolutely had to.
But the time to talk was coming, fast. She had her first concert here in LA on Saturday night, which of course was right during my game so she couldn't come watch my final game and I couldn't go see her. I'd really wanted to see her perform, but I guess it could wait. I was more upset about Bella not being at possibly my last game as a Trojan. I knew it was irrational, considering how many people were at our games, but I really liked the idea of being able to look up in the stands and see her there.
After her concert, she was leaving for nine months for her first big world tour. I was so happy and excited for her, knowing how hard she'd worked to get to this point (I may have Googled her, sue me). But being apart from her would be hard. She was the first woman I'd ever loved, and the thought of her being so far away, surrounded by hot male dancers and foreign guys, made my fists clench in jealousy. We could Skype, but finding time would be very difficult, especially with her in all sorts of time zones.
I sighed heavily and heaved myself out of my Volvo. We'd work something out- we just had to. I refused to let this amazing woman go just because she was an international pop star.
Her front door opened and she bounced out, a la Alice, and into my arms. "Baby!" she squealed, peppering my face with kisses. "I wondered where you were!"
I laughed and kissed her back. "I got a little held up after practice."
She pulled back suddenly and looked at my face. "What the hell happened to you? Are you okay?" she demanded, grabbing my face and twisting it around to look at the bruises I knew must be darkening.
"It was a little fight, that's all," I demurred, not wanting to tell her what Peter had said about her.
She put her hands on her tiny hips. "You better tell me exactly what happened right this second or I will get my phone and call Emmett," she threatened. She was so small, but she could be scary when she wanted.
I sighed. "One of the guys was asking me about my disco stick," I said quietly, trying to make it sound like that was it.
She cocked an eyebrow. "You wouldn't fight over that. What else did he say?"
God, she was like a damn dog after a bone. "Fine, I'll tell you, but don't get upset," I said, rewrapping my arms around her. "He asked me what it was like having sex with a guy, because he heard that's why you dress up," I told her softly, watching her eyes.
She immediately lost all her fire and melted into my arms, her eyes hurt and sad. "I'm so sorry, Edward," she said, lying her head on my chest.
"Baby, what are you sorry for? He's the prick," I replied, smoothing her beautiful brown hair down with my hands. I knew this soothed her.
"I knew all this stress would result in something terrible," she mumbled into my chest. "I guess I'm just glad it was one of your teammates and not a paparazzo."
I pulled back and lifted her chin with my hand to force her to look into my eyes. "Don't blame yourself, Bella. It was all me. I just couldn't handle somebody talking about my girl like that."
She smiled weakly, and it didn't reach her eyes. "You can't hit someone every time they say something bad about me."
"I certainly can. You can make me your bodyguard and take me on tour with you," I said.
Her smile froze, and I knew it was because I'd said the dreaded "T" word. "Come on, didn't you promise me dinner?" I said quickly, changing the subject.
She looked at me a long moment, her eyes unreadable for the first time since I'd met her, and then she finally nodded. "I made your favorite."
"You made me Bella-on-a-bun?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood. "Perfect."
She giggled. "Then I guess I made your second favorite- spaghetti with meatballs and cheesy garlic bread."
I sighed dramatically. "I suppose that is acceptable," I said, then laughed and threw my arm around her shoulders as we headed inside.
After dinner, we were sitting in her living room, looking at several huge boards, one for each song, that had drawings of her set for the tour covered in little stick figures. "And for 'Bad Romance,' the lighting will switch to all reds and purples and you'll be chained to this pillar on the left while the dancers do their thing around you," Rosalie was explaining, pointing to one of the boards.
"Damn, there's going to be S&M in this show? I definitely need to check it out now," I joked.
"Ssh, I'm trying to concentrate," Bella said, hitting my thigh. I rolled my eyes and let my gaze wander around the room. I'd had no idea staging a tour was so… boring. If only Bella weren't so anal, she could have someone else (preferably Rosalie) do all this for her and we could be having some good times before she left.
My eyes fell on a big bookcase in the corner of the living room that I hadn't seen before. Well, I'd seen it, but it hadn't had all that stuff on it…
I stood up and crossed over to it, and realized Bella must have put back all the pictures she'd taken down when she was pretending not to be Lady Bella. There were dozens of pictures with some very famous people- George Clooney, the Kings of Leon, Ryan Seacrest, that hot girl from "Gossip Girl"… was that the Queen of England?
"Holy shit!" I exclaimed.
"What?" Bella asked, then saw what I was doing. She came over to me and wrapped her arm around my waist. "Impressed by my picture with Miley?" she teased.
"Hardy har har," I replied. "Did you seriously get to meet royalty?" I asked, gesturing to the picture of her bowing to the Queen. "And why in the world were you wearing such a hideous dress?"
She hit my arm, hard. "Watch it! That's my throwing arm. You're not the only one around here with talent, you know," I reminded her.
She rolled her eyes. "So you claim. Where are your trophies?" she asked, pointing to a line of Grammys and VMA moonmen I hadn't noticed.
"Just you wait. They'll announce the finalists next Tuesday, after the final games," I said, allowing myself to hope for the first time that I would win the Heisman. I wanted it for me, and for my family, but a large part of me wanted it to show Bella and the world that I wasn't a charity case- I brought things to our relationship, too.
She smiled and leaned up to kiss me. "I know you'll be one of them, baby," she said softly, gazing up at me with love and pride in her eyes. I was relieved that whatever was bothering her earlier seemed to have dissipated.
"Are you going to moon at each other all night, or can we get back to rehearsing?" Rosalie yelled across the room.
"God, Rosalie, we've been at it all day," Bella moaned, but went back to sit on the couch in front of the boards.
I checked the time, and groaned. "I really should be going, too. I know one of us talked the professor into letting her take the final early," I said, glaring at Bella, "but I clearly don't have your persuasive power and need to study."
Bella pouted. "I barely got to see you," she mumbled, standing back up to walk me to the door.
"I guess we can start getting used to it now," I said, trying to go for levity but really sounding strangled. I had no idea how I'd gotten so dependent on this woman in so short a time, but it had happened, and there was no going back.
Her eyes grew sad. "I'm going to miss you so much," she said tremulously. I could hear the tears coming.
"Aw, baby, don't cry," I said, pulling her into my arms in the foyer. "We still have a couple of days, right? And we'll definitely get to party after the game on Saturday."
She wiped at her eyes and snuggled into my chest. "I figure I'll be out of the Staples Center by eleven, and can meet you back here."
"Good. I've got plans for you," I said, nuzzling my face into her sweet-smelling hair.
She pulled back slightly to look at me. "Really?"
"Of course, silly. You think I'm going to let you go out on tour for nine months and not send you off with a bang?" I leaned in close, to whisper in her ear. "Several bangs, actually," I added, nipping her ear lobe with my teeth and licking it.
She shivered. "That is one promise you better keep, mister."
"No worries," I said, and moved down to nuzzle her neck. She let her head flop to the side, to give me better access, but then we heard Rosalie screeching from the living room.
"Good God, how long does it take to say goodbye? Come on, Bells!"
We both sighed and pulled away to look at each other. "I love you," Bella said, running her hand through my messy hair.
"I love you, baby," I replied, then leaned in to kiss her. It was shorter and sweeter than our normal kisses, but I didn't want to start something I'd have to finish in my dorm bathroom. I pulled away and kissed her nose and forehead before letting her go to open the door.
"See you Saturday?" I asked.
She nodded. "I'm sorry I'm going to be too busy until then."
I shrugged, trying not to let her see how upset I was. "It's okay. I should probably focus on my homework for once since I met you."
She smiled, but it was another of those sad smiles that didn't look sincere and I couldn't read. "Go, go. I'll call you tomorrow."
"Have fun with the Nazi!" I called as I headed out to the Volvo. She laughed and stood in the stoop, watching me until I'd backed out of her driveway and headed down her street.
~*~*~*~*~
I breathed in deeply, trying to calm my frayed nerves. It was the middle of the third quarter and we were up by a touchdown, but Stanford was trying their best to knock us out of the National Championship race. Their running back was wicked good- he would probably be up for the Heisman, as well- and our defense was exhausted already with another quarter to go. Everyone on the sidelines was jazzed, bouncing up and down and trying to tune out the screaming crowd, but I could tell our excitement was starting to show in our game. We'd made some elementary mistakes and were getting penalized for them.
Stanford got stopped in this series, finally, and had to punt. I took another deep breath and snapped my helmet into place, ready to go out there and score a touchdown to put us further ahead. We had not come this far to lose to fucking Stanford!
For the first down, I handed the ball off to English, our best running back, but he only gained a yard. On the next down, I threw to Smith, but it got batted down by a Stanford defenseman. Thank God it wasn't intercepted.
With nine yards to go to get the first down, I knew I would have to throw the ball deep. We set the play in the huddle and broke, and as I stood behind the center, about to call the snap, I looked out and read the defensive formation.
Shit! They were going to blitz. Fuck, I needed more time to let my guys get down the field…
The center snapped the ball and everyone started moving. I had the ball in my hands, ready to throw to the first open person I saw, but Stanford was everywhere! How did they have that many players on the field?!
I saw a Stanford tackler coming from the left out of the corner of my eye, and it seemed like slow motion. I tried to scramble out of the way, but he was too fast. He caught me around my middle, and I tucked the ball into my chest so I wouldn't fumble it. We'd lose yards and have to punt, but I still had another quarter to score.
As I was going down, though, the back of my head hit something extremely hard- I felt it through my helmet- and my neck snapped forward. Stars exploded in front of my eyes, and the pain was instantaneous.
Then everything went black.
AN: Uh oh!
For everyone not versed in football, pm me and I'll try my best to explain what happened. I tried to use regular terminology as much as possible.
Also, the hit Edward experienced is based on one that put Tim Tebow, Florida's Heisman-winning quarterback, out of a game, and video can be found here, so you can picture it:
www (dot) youtube (dot) com/watch?v=8Cc8fwpYAHM&feature=related
