Thanks so much again for the reviews! I wish my responses were more eloquent ;p
Sorry for any typos.
StephMey owns all things Twilight.
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EPOV
I wake up and roll over to find my face buried in a field of strawberries. Light is pouring through the bedroom window but I'm too exhausted to open my eyes. Instead I snuggle deeper into the warm, fragrant nest of.........hair?
Scenes and images start flashing through my broken memory. Bella's face in my hands, the audience erupting in a standing ovation, bright lights, tequila shots, dancing in the street, Bella laughing.
Bella.
I sit up like a bolt of lightning and a wave of nausea crashes over me. I groan and fight back the urge to hurl.
Tequila shots, karaoke, gin and tonics, Bella laughing. Her hands on me.
I look down at the body lying next to me covered in a simple white sheet. Her hair is loose and splayed out on an oversized white pillow and her shoulders rise and fall as she breathes without a sound.
I blink exaggeratedly to make sure I'm not dreaming. But no, she's still there and she's an angel.
The sound of running water catches my attention and I pull myself to the edge of the bed. I'm about to put my feet to the floor when the cold chill of the AC hits my bare chest...and my bare legs....and my....
I squeeze my eyes shut and feel my way down my stomach praying that my fingers hit the elastic band of my boxer briefs. They do and I'm out of the bedroom and across the apartment in a flash. My head is spinning and I lunge for the bathroom door for support. I find my footing and reach to the sink. I shut the water off and stand there panting.
Holy shit.
Tequila shots and dancing. Laughing and climbing stairs.
I examine my reflection in the mirror.
It's a freak show. I look like a carnival attraction. My hair is sticking straight up in all directions like I've been electrocuted for hours. I comb it down with my fingers but disobedient strands pop back up. My face is drained of all color except for the purple circles under my eyes and most noticeable of all...the residue of Bella's blood red lipstick smeared from the crescents of my upper lip to halfway down my chin.
"How the fuck…?" I ask myself, honestly expecting an answer from the dickhead in the mirror. Well, asshole, you took a beautiful girl to the park and then took advantage of her somewhere.
I sigh and jam my knuckles into my eyes, which only serves to intensify the hangover headache pulsing behind them. A nasty tasting, alcohol-filled burp erupts from my throat and I dry heave into the sink.
I swallow the bile back down and hang onto the sides with shaky hands.
It's time for a pep talk. I look at my reflection sternly.
"Ok, buddy, just relax. Take a deep breath and calm the fuck down. Don't panic. Everything is ok. These hallucinations are the result of a serious night of binge drinking. You've been here before. You need to go back to bed and sleep it off til at least mid-afternoon and then you can call Bella and check in. I'm sure she's fine."
I splash water over my face and rinse my mouth out with Listerine. I shakily begin the walk back to the bedroom trying my best not to trip over shoes and discarded clothing along the way.
Why are the couch cushions piled in the middle of the living room floor?
That memory slowly bobs to the surface of my clouded brain.
Oh right. The soldier fort. She was Pocahontas and I was Captain John Smith.
It seemed like a brilliant idea at the time. We were both far too drunk to find the lights in the apartment so we worked by the light of the moon streaming in through the sliding glass door on the balcony.
"When you were a kid, who did you pretend to be?"
"Pocahontas," she answered confidently.
"Pocahontas, the Kings dearest daughter," I recited, balancing on the back of the overturned couch and swinging the fire poker in the air.
"…when no entreaty could prevail, got his head in her arms, and laid her own upon his to save him from death."
I jumped feet first into the pile of cushions and pillows that Bella had built, destroying her measly fort with my brute strength.
She laughed and held her hands to her chest, gasping in fake surrender.
"You're amazing. Do you know that?"
"Know what?" I grinned, kicking down the back wall of her fort and stacking the pillows under my head. I lay on my back in the rubble of our village. She crawled to me and lay across my stomach.
"...That you're amazing."
"But doesn't everyone have a favorite passage from 'The Generall Historie of Virginia, New England, and the Summer Isles'?"
"Stop it. You know what I mean."
I conceded and ran my fingers through her long dark hair.
"…I know what you mean." I sighed. "I know."
I rub my eyes and look at the living room like it's a crime scene before I continue to the bedroom.
It's NOT a hallucination. She's still in the bed, wrapped in a sheet like a preserved porcelain doll. I need her to wake up. I need to explain this to her before she sees it on her own and freaks the fuck out.
I palm her shoulder and gently shake her.
"Bella. …Bella, wake up."
She moans low and kicks the sheet off her body. I move to politely look away, assuming we've done what I think we've done and that she's going to be naked underneath the covers. But she's still in her Bob Dylan tee and wearing a pair of my navy checkered boxers. I don't know whether to be relieved that she's dressed or terrified that she knew enough to put her clothes back on after we did what I fucking wish more than anything I could remember.
"Bella? Baby, I'm sorry to wake you but I think you should get up. We need to talk."
She comes to life under my hand, shifting her hips and fluttering her eyes.
"Oh god…my head." Her voice is pained and gravely.
"…Edward?" she calls out, disoriented.
I kneel down to her level and smooth her wet bangs from her sweaty forehead.
"I'm here, Bella." She turns slowly, wincing at the throbbing in her skull. She looks into my eyes and it takes a moment for her to process my face but when she does, she smiles.
"Hey you," she whispers stretching her arms over her head and pushing her feet to the foot of the bed.
She sits up on her elbows and looks around.
"Jesus Christ. What happened in here? Were you robbed?"
She sounds so serious that I can't help but laugh at her genuine concern at the possibility that intruders broke into the apartment during the night, tipped the couch over, built forts with pillows, ordered Chinese take-out, knocked over the barstools, and left opened bottles of booze and wine on the counter.
"Yeah those robbers could have at least put their glasses in the sink when they were done and thrown out their empties. How rude. …No actually I think we did this."
I put my chin on the mattress and look up at her through the tops of my eyes.
Her jaw drops. "Oh god." She slides her legs under the blankets. "…did we…?"
I sit on the bed next to her and put my hands between my knees. She's staring at an invisible spot on the wall.
"It's possible. …We got pretty fucked up last night."
"…yeah."
"I don't see any condom wrappers though."
"Shit. Maybe we didn't use one."
"You should go to the bathroom and see if there's any…y'know."
What exactly am I suggesting? That she go check for my dried cum between her thighs?
"Could you help me?"
As if she'd ever need to ask me for my help.
Without question I lift her up and place her feet on the floor. She slides her arms around my waist and rests her head on my chest. I put my arm around her and lean her weight against my side. We shuffle slowly towards the bathroom. I know she sees the mess we created as we walk to the other side of the apartment but she says nothing.
"I'll wait out here for you," I promise. She nods and closes the bathroom door.
It feels like an eternity but it finally opens again and she emerges, blushing at what she had to do to examine if I'd been there.
"…Well?" I ask, opening my arms. She steps towards me and I fold myself around her knowing that we're about to be very candid with each other.
"Did you…find anything?"
"Like what, Edward? A used condom stuffed up my hole?" she snorts. I rest my chin on the top of her head and hug her tight.
"I meant like any bleeding. Are you in pain…down there?"
"You think you're that good huh? Tore me to pieces, didya?"
I sigh deeply and feel her smiling against my bare chest. Such a sarcastic girl. "Fine then. How else can we tell if we had sex?"
"Can we think about it later? I don't feel so good." She's getting the tremors and for the first time it hits me how tiny she truly is and how much we must have drank last night. I hoist her in my arms and cradle her into the crook of my neck, her mouth resting above my collarbone.
"Thank you, Edward," she says weakly as I carry her to the bedroom. I place her on my side of the bed and pile the pillows under and behind her head. I draw the sheet and comforter over her small frame and she curls into the fetal position, her hands tucked under her chin.
Pushing my own nausea and aches to the side, I concentrate on taking care of Bella. I set a glass of water and a can of ginger ale on the bedside table, stick a few pieces of bread in the toaster, and get out of her way when she runs to the bathroom with her hand over her mouth. When she calls out to me I'm there to hold her hair back. When she's done I take the towel and wipe the tears from her eyes and flush the toilet so she doesn't have to look at it before carrying her back to bed only to do it over again fifteen minutes later.
When she's finally purged her body to exhaustion, she falls into a restless sleep in the middle of the bed. To avoid disturbing her I drag the Barcelona chair in from the living room and grab a blanket.
BPOV
"Who did you pretend to be when you were a kid?"
"John Lennon."
The soft subtle sound of a guitar pulls me from my coma-like state. I'm lying on my stomach with my arms crossed under the pillow. I open my eyes but I can't tell the difference in perception from when they were closed. The lovely strumming continues. It sounds like it's coming from close by. Edward must have the stereo on in the living room.
Edward.
Bella. Baby, I need you to wake up.
I remember waking up the first time this morning to the heavenly sight of Edward standing by my side in nothing but a pair of gray boxer briefs. I thought I was dreaming until the sledgehammer hit me in the back of the head and I spent the rest of the day racing between the bed and the toilet.
Edward has great calves. And thighs. His bare body was just what I hoped it would be and more than I remembered. His stomach is flat and defined with a light brown trail of hair leading from his navel down into his shorts. His chest is perfectly sculpted and his shoulders and arms are muscled and strong. What I hadn't noticed the first time – probably because I was too busy pinning him down and dry-raping him - are the sprinklings of freckles and beauty marks that are dotted across his smooth skin.
"Edward?" I croak into the darkness.
"Hmm?" He's closer than I thought. His seductive voice is coming from the shadows I'm facing but I can't see him.
He's humming a melodic tune as he plays.
"What time is it?" My throat is raw and sore.
"Six-thirty. I closed the curtains to keep the light out."
"How long have I been sleeping?"
"Mm, about seven hours."
"Straight?"
"More or less." He stops playing and I hear him put the guitar down.
"You woke up a few times so I could give you ibuprofen." His weight presses down on the mattress and I can smell the alcohol and sweat residue on his skin. He hasn't showered.
"Hey didn't you say you had freshman orientation today?" I scratch my scalp and pull a hair band from my wrist.
"Mmhm."
"When was it?"
"This afternoon. From three to five."
"Did you go?"
He chuckles. "No I didn't go, Bella. Who was going to look after you?"
I bolt up to a sitting position. His face comes in to view. Fuck off he's gorgeous.
"What?!" I yelp. Ow fuck that hurt my head. "Edward, why did you do that?! You should have gone! You could have left me here."
"Stoppit, Bella," he blows the idea off. "That was not an option."
I flop back to the mattress. "You missed your orientation because of me."
"To take care of you."
"I feel terrible."
"Do you need to throw up again?"
"Ugh no I mean I feel terrible that you were forced to stay here all fucking day and miss your first school function of the year."
"I wasn't forced to do anything. I wanted to stay." His hand finds the top of my head. He takes the hair band and smoothes my hair back. Gathering it at my neck he pulls the band around once, twice and tightens it.
"What did you do all day while I was asleep? You must have been bored out of your mind."
"Mm, not really. I fell asleep in the chair for a little while, until you started calling out for me…"
"I was calling out for you?" I cringe. Greaaat. I was hoping that would be the way Edward found out I talked in my sleep.
"Uh huh," he continues, unfazed. "Then I wrote a song."
"Is that what you were playing before?"
"Yeah."
"Can you play it for me?"
"Now?"
"Yes now. It's Friday night. You can pretend you're at open mike."
"For my audience of one," he smiles and kisses my forehead. "I'm glad you're feeling better, Bella."
He gets up and returns with his guitar. He flips on the small lamp on the bedside table. I notice that he's changed his clothes since I fell asleep, into a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a plain white tee. Still barefoot. Still deadly.
"I should warn you, it's not very good," he prefaces, sitting down next to me. "It will probably sound better on piano. And it's really long. I've been writing it for five hours."
"Edward shut up and play." I roll my eyes and lay back against the headboard. He chuckles and shakes his head.
"I'll play low in case your head is still hurting..."
"Edward PLAY!!"
"I'm just trying to be courteous! Ok fine...here goes..."
I am your secret babe
Watch me unfold
Dancing in these streets so late
nobody knows
nobody knows us
His fingers fumble in a few places as he plays by the light of a small table lamp. He blushes and closes his eyes when he trips over his words. The lyrics are startling and raw, the product of too much booze and not enough rest, but they're also personal and honest, always honest to the point where I find myself unable to look at him at certain points.
and i don't remember falling asleep
must have been holding on tight
and all i can think of and all i can dream
is dancing with you in red lights
The room falls into an awkward silence as the vibration of the last chord fades away. I feel like I should say something but my heart is beating so fast I'm afraid I might cry at the sound of my own voice in comparison to the way his has just filled the room.
"Edward, I..." I pull my hands away from my mouth so he can hear me. He's staring down at his bare feet crossed at the ankles. He sets his guitar against the nightstand and slides his hands between his thighs. "...That was magical. Thank you."
Fuck it. I lean over and kiss him on the lips. He smiles into my mouth and palms my cheeks.
"You're very welcome."
"...I think I'm ready to get up now."
He nods and gives me his hands.
**
We're sitting on the floor in the living room watching old movies on cable. I feel around in my mouth and lip. Some things are missing.
"Where's my..." I stick my tongue out at him and bite at the hole in my bottom lip.
"Your face jewelry?" he laughs. "On the bathroom sink. You were scrubbing your mouth and tongue so hard with the towel every time you threw up that you asked me to take them out before you ripped them out completely."
"Oh yeah. I kinda remember that. I also remember you singing karaoke somewhere last night."
"Ugggh," he groans. "Yeah I do that sometimes. Everything is such a blur. How many bars did we go to after we left Central Park?"
"No idea. Several?"
"I can't believe we made it back here in one piece. ….What was I singing?"
"Rhinestone Cowboy. Then you did an homage to Michael Jackson. Don't Stop Til You Get Enough brought the house down, I think."
"How. fucking. embarrassing." He drops his head in his hands and crawls them up through his hair.
"No way. You sounded amazing."
"You're way too nice to me, Bella. I don't deserve it."
"Shut up. ...I really need a shower. It's like eight at night and I'm grossing myself out."
"Are you hungry?"
"Starved."
"Take out?"
"Definitely." Obviously I'm staying over again. "Edward I am so sorry this is how you're spending your Friday night."
"I'm not dignifying that with an answer," he rolls his eyes. "Now what do you want for dinner?"
You. On a plate. With extra hot sauce.
"Are you blushing at the thought of food?"
"No. I'm just flushed from...being sick. ...Get me something greasy, with fries."
"You got it. I'll order while you shower."
**
Edward told me I could wear anything of his that's clean.
I race from the bathroom to the bedroom while he's at the door paying the Better Burger delivery boy.
Alone in the bedroom, nearly freed of my hangover and with a clearer head, I can finally process the fact that I am in their bedroom, whether Edward refers to it as such or not. It's where he sleeps, and where he sleeps - or has slept because I'm not entirely sure what's going on with them - with her.
I press my palm down on my lower abdomen, the fleshy part of my pelvis right above my pubic bone.
I haven't had sex in awhile, not since the last time with Jake six months ago, so me and my lady parts know the difference between waking up on a regular morning and waking up on a 'morning after'.
I was too ill and miserable this morning to know what I was feeling. Everything hurt. Everything ached. I couldn't tell if the throb between my legs was from yet another night of my body's unending want for Edward inside me or the result of its actual occurrence. Welcome back memories of senior year frat parties and the ever popular walk of shame.
I didn't want to alarm Edward until I was in a better frame of mind to know for sure if there were signs that we fucked like rabbits.
Then, in the shower, I washed my hair and body with his products – no way in hell I was coming out smelling like her. I stuck my hand between my legs and started feeling around. I began on the outside of my folds, pressing lightly with the pads of my first two fingers. I bit my bottom lip. How could I be sure? I spread myself open and slid my middle finger in slow.
Shit.
I pulled out and grabbed the small mirror hanging from the shower rack. I bent over and angled it between my legs for a better look around.
There was a tiny bruise developing on the inside of my thigh where my butt cheek meets my leg and where the identical place on Edward would have slapped together during intercourse.
I press on it and wince.
It's tender.
Shit.
The jury had reached a decision.
This was a 'morning after'.
**
There's still more to this but the chapter was getting pretty long and I'm trying to keep the updates coming.
Much love in my profile to Joe Purdy - once again the inspiration for Edward's songs.