A/N Hey there! Sorry this is taking so long to update, I just want it to be good. Thank you for all of your comments, they all make me smile and sometimes laugh.

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Disclaimer: Hey hey, you you, I don't own Twilight! ...No, that doesn't work, does it...

Awkwardly moving on.

Enjoy!

Chapter 14

Hands

This is the first time that I am actually a little upset that Charlie isn't there when I wake up. I was fully expecting some grand gesture waiting for me downstairs, like I don't know, a homemade breakfast...or a car.

Baby steps, I guess.

When I realised that I was disappointed, I actually shared a semi-hysterical giggle with the empty kitchen. Rome wasn't built in a day, and if my father and I actually planned to have a secure relationship, we'd have to work at it. But that didn't mean altering his schedule, or mine for that matter.

And so, when I left the house in my skinny jeans, a burgundy over sized knit sweater and a bright red 'cloche' hat I had this repressed feeling to sort some things out.

Which is probably why I had fully intended to march up to Edward's room and demand that we sit and talk like adults. However, I was stumped by the first words Alice threw at me.

"My dad is driving us today, Edward's sick."

Of course, I felt sympathy for him, and yet it was quenched by this overall excitement as soon as she mentioned her god of a father.

"Why is it every time I mention my father, everyone's eyes glaze over? It's not cool, man." she huffs with a strange tone to her voice. Almost like she's trying to be teasing, yet she's distracted. "I'm not trusted with the car, so Dr. Cullen is taking the morning off from his apparently non-important job to escort us fine ladies to school. You look so cute by the way you really are a hat person - I don't know why you don't wear them more often. I like hats, but I don't like to cover my hair. I mean, why would I spend so long making it this fabulous just to cover it up? That's madness!"

"Alice," I say with something like worry in my voice, "is everything alright?"

"Yes," she says but her eyes dart over her shoulder, "everything's dandy, why wouldn't it be? It's not like I have anything to be upset about. Because I'd tell you if I did."

"Well...Okay," I say, deciding that coercing Alice into telling me everything would be morally unjust. It's not her fault she can't keep quiet for more than a few moments. I give her a look though, one that tells her that I know that something is wrong. She visibly gulps, and suddenly I'm nervous.

"So, what did you do last night?" she asks, leading me into her living room.

"Oh, um," I think to last night, and how emotionally wracking it was. For some reason I can't even begin to want to share anything that happened. So, I plaster on a fake smile. "Just watched TV. What about you?" I say, and she shifts awkwardly.

"Oh, yeah, same."

"Okay."

"Yeah." I don't know why it has suddenly gotten so weird between Alice and I, but it feels as though we both have some heavy duty information hanging over our heads. Which is quite ridiculous, actually, because what I have to share is entirely personal and would entail me sharing with Alice in a way that I was only just getting used to doing.

Actually, Edward was the only one who I had truly spoken to about anything to do with my family, and so telling Alice anything wouldn't feel right for some reason.

"So, Edward's sick? Should I go up and say hi?" Her reaction shocks me; she darts out of her seat and stands rigidly upright.

"No! I mean." She coughs. "No. I don't think it would be appropriate. He's probably still sulking about what happened between the two of you, not to mention the fact that he's very likely contagious."

"What's wrong with him?" I ask, not meaning to sound so serious.

"Oh, you know how it is," she says, with a completely rehearsed flippancy, "man flu. Boys get a little cough and they think they're on their death bed. I tell you, they don't know pain. No sir-ee." She shuffles uncomfortably.

I open my mouth to speak, not entirely sure of what I'm about to say. But I'm interrupted when the door to the kitchen and the finest father I have ever seen pops his head in to the room.

Alice looks relieved that he's here.

"Oh hey, ready to go?" she says quickly.

"Sure," he says with a smirk that's entirely too much like Edward's. "Hey there, Bella."

"Hi." I say, and manage not to squeak. Suddenly, Alice isn't weird anymore; she just rolls her eyes and grabs me by the arm, hauling me out to the car.

Carlisle plays the Red Hot Chilli Peppers on the radio, and sings almost every word. I don't even stop myself from staring at his perfectly formed lips as he states that California can rest in peace. He doesn't actually say much throughout the whole ride, but I'm sort of glad because I don't know if I would have been able to form coherent responses.

When we leave Alice kisses him on the cheek and he gives me a salute goodbye. As soon as we step out of the car, a strange feeling drenches me like freezing cold water. I worry for just a second, before I push it to the back of my mind; I refuse to let any kind of emotion ruin what has turned out to be quite a good mood. That's unusual for me.

"Did you hear that?" I gush in an overly enthusiastic voice, as Alice latches onto my arm. "He wants me to have a good day...I think he likes me!" I squeal and laugh when she slaps me as hard as she can.

"God, my soul for an ugly father."

"You can have mine."

"With those shoulders and that moustache? Gladly."

"Ew."

"Not so nice when it's switched around, is it?"

"No, I'm sorry."

"That's what I thought."

"What are we talking about?" It's Rose. I'm glad to see she doesn't look as weird as Alice did earlier. I do, however, note the connection of their eyes, almost like a silent, momentary conversation between the two of them.

"Chief Swan's sexy moustache."

"Always a fun topic."

"I'll hurt you both," I say with a shudder.

"Cute hat," Rose says, tugging on a lock of my dark hair.

"Why, thank you," I respond with a small curtsy.

"It'd look better on my bedroom floor." She continues with a completely straight face just as Jazz wanders over. She's ridiculous.

"Yeah, you'd like that wouldn't you, baby?" I purr back, giving her a wink.

"Well, I see I picked the perfect moment to join the conversation...No, please, continue." He rests his chin on Alice's shoulder and hugs her from behind, staring back and forth between us with a cheeky smile.

"Don't be a dick," Alice snaps, with a disgusted sigh. "You two," she points, "get a room." Then she hauls Jasper away making sure he stumbles up the steps behind her. Rose chuckles and shakes her head after the emotional rollercoaster that is Alice.

"She's mental."

"Tell me about it. This one time, she convinced All Hands to sprinkle Johnson's talc on his lunch, and then got mad at him when he wouldn't swallow." I snort.

"All Hands?"

"Tyler Crowley. Not all nicknames are winners."

"Well, that one's sort of self-explanatory." She throws her arm around my shoulders and we start to walk up the steps into the main building.

It's then that I notice what's wrong. Tanya and Emmett aren't lurking beside the steps like they usually are; in fact, I don't see any Greeks. I look at Rose, but her eyes are focused on the doors in front of us.

I look back over my shoulder, down at the side of the entrance, next to the bike racks.

There they all are; a huge group of Freaks gathered together. All talking in frenzy; hushed and excited, vibrating like bees.

In war, we are stronger together.

I can feel the blood drain straight out of my cheeks.

...

I've been walking around this place like a zombie for the last couple of hours; the dread encompassing me seems to be growing heavier and heavier with every step and so when I'm suddenly not alone in the lunch queue, I can't help but snap.

"WHAT IS IT?" Tadpole's eyes resemble saucers.

"I was just going to say 'hi'," he squeaks, giving me a frightened look. I have to physically close my eyes to stop them from rolling. I sigh.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped; I'm just stressed."

"That's understandable," he says and suddenly he's even more annoying. "It must be hard for you, being your first time."

"...huh?" I say, not able to help myself. He gives me what I assume is a friendly smile.

"I understand completely what you're going through. Fry was the same way last year after the incident; it was the first time that what was happening was made a reality."

"What incident?" I ask, curiosity gnawing at my mind.

"Oh, you know," he says, pushing me playfully, like I'm trying to mess with him.

"Tadpo-"

"Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that if you need someone to talk to, I'm here."

"Listen-"

"We should totally go out sometime...Oh! Or you could come over to my house for dinner! My mom makes a mean pot roast. She'd love to meet you, too!"

"Michael-"

"I know how hard it must be. But you don't want to have to talk to someone like Thorn about this kind of thing. You want someone that can actually relate to other human beings. Am I right? You know what I'm saying? Yeah? Chimes?" I slap hard on his chest, tighten my fist in the front of his shirt and shove as hard as I can until his back is up against the pillar separating the lunch queue from the rest of the canteen. My hands hold him in place.

He squirms as I hold him in place, like he's sickly relishing that we're actually having physical contact.

But his eyes tell a different story; I can see that he's scared, and underneath it all, mortified.

I can almost feel hundreds of eyes on me.

"You talk about my friend again and you won't have to worry about ever speaking again. Am I making myself clear enough, Tadpole?" I shove him again for good measure. "Rosalie is the strongest and most poignant person I know. You should be grateful that she has ever deigned to talk to you – be very careful of who you insult around me." His face is frozen in a picture of shock, nervousness, and regretfully awe. I find my fist twitching, wanting to smash into his stupid face.

Ah, what's the harm?

But before my arm can even begin to move, I'm being scooped up from behind. I kick my legs out in front of me, struggling and wriggling on impulse.

"Stop squirming before I pull an Old English and throw you over my shoulder." It's Jasper that says this and I growl in response as he literally hauls me away from Mike, who is still backed up against the pillar.

"...So, is that a 'no' on the dinner?" he calls out, completely seriously.

Jasper's arms tighten like a vice as I scream a growl of frustration and struggle to lurch forward and rip his gelled hair off of his head. I can feel him vibrating with laughter around me.

"That boy is a lost cause," he says, pityingly, as he literally drags me towards our lunch table.

"You should have let me punch him."

"You're such a delicate creature, aren't you?"

"Be warned, my fist really wants to hit something."

"You'd never hit me, you love me too much." I scoff as he finally sets me down, right next to Wolf. "You're welcome, by the way."

"What for?" I yelp, wincing as I hear my voice go up an octave higher than humanely bearable.

"For stopping you from neutering a helpless, pathetic disciple of yours. It's not his fault you've put him under your spell."

"My spell?" I say, half incredulously, half sarcastically.

"Oh please, like you haven't noticed your affect on the masculine Freak population."

"And some of the feminine community," Alice chirps in; her foul mood has apparently evaporated.

"Oh, shut up." I snap and they all chuckle.

"Well, it is comprehensible. Little Chimes, here, has probably only noticed her affect on one specific male...populate?"

"Resident," Tex fills in.

"One specific male resident," Rose finishes.

"I have no idea what you're yapping about," I say innocently, taking half a slice of Jake's sandwich – for some reason he has three separate cheese rolls, a milkshake and a plate of chips. Why is he not obese?

"He's about 'yay' high; smouldering, sultry gaze; fucked up hair; sickly, pale skin?"

"Hey! I'm paler than he is," I complain, and she gives me a knowing smile.

"You know who I'm talking about."

"Well, I'm not exactly Nicholas Cage or anything, but it was hardly a mythical treasure hunt."

"You know." She gives me a sure nod, and all I can do is growl in response.

It's only now that I look around the rest of the canteen; the piece of cheese sticks in my throat.

There's a literal divide in the cafeteria; a full row of tables is empty between our side and the other closest to the door. When I look back to the inhabitants of my table, they are all fully concentrating on their food, refusing to catch my gaze.

"What's going on?" I hiss, unable to stop myself.

"What? Oh, nothing. Look, it's 2:00 already...Jazzy, walk me to my locker?" They both get up without another word and leave. When I look beside me, Jake is no longer looking at his food; mostly because there are only crumbs remaining (how the hell did he eat all that food that fast?) but also because he is caught underneath the ball shrivelling glare of Rosalie Hale.

"Bye, Chimes." And there's nothing left but a Jacob shaped cloud of dust and bread crumbs.

"You know that I would never bullshit you," she says then, looking at me intensely.

"I know." The joking tone is completely lost.

"This is something I want you to discuss with Old English; can you do that for me?" she says with a strange echoing tone to her voice. I know then that I will do what she says; for some reason I find myself unable to disobey her.

She should be the freaking president.

"He needs to be the one to talk to you about this."

"Why?" I find myself saying.

"Because he's the one that you should trust the most." She doesn't elaborate on this; she just stands up and leaves - a soft touch to my shoulder acts as a goodbye.

So, for the rest of the day I don't pay attention to the odd absence of Greeks in the corridors or the bathrooms. I keep my head down and focus on my work, because I know that tonight I'm going to make everything right again.

...

My knuckles tap on the door; one, two, three. I find myself humming a Beatles song as I wait until the door swings open.

I have my stern face ready; my bitch glare prepared to pierce through the stupid, gorgeous red head that I expect to open the door.

Except I find myself glaring at a hard, broad chest.

My eyes slide up.

"Little Chimes!" Emmett beams and draws me into a bone crushing hug. My feet leave the safe ground and I'm airborne for a second. I grumble when I hit the floor with a body quaking thud.

"Hey, Emmett." I say and follow him into the house as he thunders back into the living room where he has a feast of popcorn and assorted candies laid out on the table and the box set of Rocky next to the flat screen. "I see you're putting your free time to good use."

"Well, I was supposed to have a friend over. But they couldn't make it, so you'll do instead – watch Rocky with me!" He grabs my arms in excitement.

"Em, I'm actually here to talk to-"

"Edward? I know. I'm not completely retarded." I give him a dry look that he ignores. "Can't you put it off for a few hours, pretty please?"

"I don't know," I whine, shoving his chest with my elbow, "I need to talk to him."

"He's not in anyway."

"What?" I stand still. "Why didn't you just tell me that? I thought he was sick?"

"Apparently not...Watch movies with me!" He's like a little kid.

"Fine. Just one." He makes a 'pshaw' sound, as if just one movie is practically unfeasible.

"Woo hoo!" he woops, diving down to press play and then tackling me onto the sofa.

...

I wake up with a crick in my neck and a numb bum.

I open one eye and take in Emmett, his fixated, smiling face illuminated by the light from the screen, a piece of lonely popcorn stuck to one cheek.

I nudge him with my foot about four times before he actually turns his head towards me. His eyes, however, remain absorbed in the movie.

"Emmett!" I yell using my socked foot to guide his face to look at me. He swats my feet off of his cheek with annoyance.

"Whhhaaatttt?" he moans, hitting me with the empty candy tray.

"Will you just phone Edward for me, ask him where he is?"

"You do it! This is the good part!...Who am I kidding? There's no bad part."

"Emmett!" I scold, trying my best to snap like Rose. "All you have to do is reach into your pocket, find his number, and click call. Then, ask him where he is and how long he'll be. Bob's your uncle."

"Coincidentally, I do have an Uncle Bob."

"I can see this conversation didn't have the desired effect," I grumble with finality. I sigh. "I'm just gonna go home," I say with obvious disappointment.

"But you'll miss the end."

"I'm sure I'll live."

On my walk back over to my house I can't help but stomp.

Stupid Edward and his fucking no-show.

Sick my ass.

Boy was probably out with Two bit.

Oh my dear God, if he was out with two bit, I will rip him a new one!

I plod into my kitchen and grab some orange juice, deciding to just take the bottle upstairs with me, then I pluck the box of cookies out of the cupboard.

I plan to lie in my bed and blast some music, drowning myself in sugar and possibly singing at the top of my lungs.

I have to open my door with my ass as my hands are full, so I back into my room then switch the light on with my tongue.

When I turn, my heart stops, and my cookies and juice ricochet off of the carpet.

Sat on the floor leaning against my bed, with one knee propped up and a toned arm casually rested on it, is Edward. He looks up at me, and my eyes instantly go to the angry, red – albeit incredibly sexy – slash through the side of his plump bottom lip.

I gasp and walk over, sinking to my knees in front of him. I reach out and with my thumb I trace his lip, stopping at his wound.

His hand traces down the side of my face and lifts up my chin. I feel myself mentally asking questions; but they don't come out. I can't speak.

He stares at me for some time. Then his fingers move down my arm, leaving gooseflesh in their trail. He scoops up my hand and makes to lace his fingers through mine.

But I stop him; some kind of subconscious urge spasms my arm and makes me pluck his fingers out of the air, grabbing them harshly between both of my hands. We're both shocked when I grab his hand and hold it to my face.

I remember looking at them just yesterday, tightening against the wheel of his car, perfect and white.

Not anymore.

His knuckles are swollen and black, like he's dipped them in smudged paint.

He watches me.

When I look up, his eyes spark like hellish flames.

"What have you done?"

Anyone know what a cloche hat is? Lmao! Like those cute little bell hats...just me? Okay then.

I'm listening to my Beatles albums - I can't help it, it's like I'm addicted! Does anyone else get that with some songs? It's like they make me so happy I can't stop smiling! No one? Aha!

Well, Good Morning Good Morning, It's Been a Hard day's night, and I've got a Ticket to Ride, but Here Comes The Sun.

Anyway, You Like Me Too Much and You've Got To Hide Your Love Away. But With a Little Help From My Friends, Baby You Can Drive My Car – Hello, Goodbye!

Okay, I'll stop.

...

We All Live in a Yellow Submarine.

...

I'm done.

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