A/N: Hello? Anyone still here? I could make a bunch of crappy excuses for why this chapter has taken me so darn long, but... you don't care. I'll just say this... traveling husband, busy kids, and uncooperative Edward. It won't happen again. ;)
Thanks to Windgirl810 for waving her magic beta wand over this - thank you for putting up with my ridiculous sentence structure and tendency to either overcomma or not comma at all. I forced another lovely, Michelle0526, to pre-read. Love you both!
This chapter is dedicated to my friend Nic! I think she knows why...
Thanks for reading - if you still are. I will have no way of knowing since Fanfiction's counter is not working...again.
Please review! :)
BPOV
Sunday morning, I wake up early, but lie in bed for a long time thinking about everything that's happened during the last eight days.
It was so bittersweet to go home to Forks, to see Jacob's family… my surrogate family. My dad and Jake's dad were friends before I was even born, and since it was just me and my dad for most of my life, we were often invited to the Black's for holidays, Sunday dinners… everything. Jake's mom, Sue, has always treated me like one of her own kids - meaning I'm hugged and kissed and scolded along with her boys. But always, she's loved me, and I gratefully accepted when she offered to go with me as I walked through my dad's house last week before turning it over to the new owners.
We went in the front door together, but Sue disappeared into the kitchen, giving me the freedom to wander through the rest of the house on my own. I leaned against the wide doorway to the living room, remembering Charlie napping on the couch while the television blared so loudly that I couldn't imagine anyone sleeping through it.
Smiling to myself, I turned and walked up the stairs, pausing for a moment on the step where I sat crying all those years ago, listening to my dad try to explain why she wasn't coming home. Pushing that memory aside, I continued up the stairs, trailing my fingers lightly across the worn spots on the handrail. I knew without looking where each one was. When I reached the top, I turned right and entered my childhood room for the last time. I gazed with disinterest around the barren room – I said goodbye to this room years ago – then walked over to the window, pulling the filmy, white curtain aside.
Resting my face against the chilly glass, I studied the Black's house across the street. I stared for a moment at the driveway where Jake, Jared and I used to play when we were children… where I used to watch Jared and his friends play basketball in the driveway when I was older. I smiled as I remembered lusting after a couple of those older, shirtless boys as a young teenager. They were too old for me at the time, but Jared forced them to be nice to me. I chuckled as I let the curtain drop back into place, thinking of my would-be brothers… who made me sit in the backseat the whole way from Seattle. Jerks. I was determined to sit up front on the way back.
As I entered the hallway and faced my dad's closed bedroom door, I swallowed the lump rising in my throat. As much as I didn't want to go in, I knew I'd regret it later if I let the opportunity pass by. I exhaled loudly and turned the knob. After I pushed the door open, I looked around the empty room and felt… nothing.
I studied the walls, picturing the plaques and photos that used to hang there – some of them were displayed at my apartment now. I looked toward the far left corner at the spot where the rocking chair used to be and remembered sitting there all night last Thanksgiving …staring at his bed and waiting for him to magically appear there – or come through the doorway and tell me that the accident was all a mistake, a huge mistake.
I walked to the middle of the room and turned in a circle… slowly. After ending up facing the same direction I started, I felt my knees buckle, my legs collapse. I sank to the tan carpet, sitting cross-legged first, and then pulling my knees in toward my chest, tightly wrapping my arms around them.
Sometime later, I heard Sue's footsteps on the stairs… I had no idea how long I'd been sitting on the floor of Charlie's room, trying to feel his presence.
"Bella?" she asked softly from the doorway. "We need to leave soon. We have to be at the lake in a couple of hours."
I nodded, but didn't get up from my spot on the floor, sitting in between the still-visible indentations in the carpet made by my dad's bed frame.
"Sweetheart," she said, trying again as she walked into the room and crouched down in front of me.
"I can't feel him here anymore, Sue. I thought I'd be able to feel him," I whispered, looking down at my knees and fighting the tears that had gathered in my eyes.
"He's not here, Bella. This house wasn't what he loved." She reached out one hand to cup my chin, pushing gently until I raised my face – and my eyes – toward her to find her looking intently at me. "This... this young woman… this face, is what he loved. You carry him with you now. You always will."
When I fell apart after that, she held me like a child.
And she stood with me – as all the Blacks did – two hours later at the lake where my dad and Billy Black loved to fish. All of us stood next to the mayor of Forks as he dedicated the walking trail circling the lake in memory of my dad.
Afterward, I accepted hugs from several of my dad's friends and co-workers, assuring everyone that I'm doing fine, that I'm happy in Seattle.
And now, lying here in my bed, I am… I am fine and I am happy. But it still hurts. I still miss him.
I think I always will.
Sniffling a little, I adjust the pillow under my head and resolve to leave those memories where they belong – in the past. I glance over at my pale yellow bedroom wall and smile when I see the fishing award hanging there, surrounded by pictures of my dad at the lake. In some of the pictures, he's alone, but in others he's with Billy or other friends. My favorite one is of Dad and Billy and Jake, Jared and me on one of the trips where they dragged me along. I was in college and dreaded spending a week with an RV full of men, but it turned out to be one of the best weeks of my life.
Smiling at the happy memories, I realize Sue is right; my dad is with me, not trapped in the places he frequented while he was living. If I hadn't been hurting so badly last week, I might have been able to see Sue's wisdom earlier… and might not have made an absolute fool out of myself Thursday night when I...
I cringe and then roll onto my stomach to bury my face in my pillow. Thursday night – a lot of it is still hazy or missing in my memory, but I have a hard time completely regretting it when the outcome has been so fantastic. Immediately, my mouth turns upward into a smirk when I think of Edward. It's taken us a while to get to this point… dating.
For a fleeting moment, I think of my dad again. I wish my dad could have known Edward. I think he would have liked Edward even though he tends to cuss quite a bit and he's been with a lot of women according to… everyone. Well, my dad wouldn't have had to know that part.
Edward seems to really care about me though. He made an effort to build a friendship with me first, before he asked me out. And now we're dating. I flop onto my back again, then giggle as I stretch and turn my head to look at the clock. I need to get up soon, but I have a few more minutes.
I snuggle back under the covers and stare up at the ceiling… thinking about Edward… still smiling. I was a real groupie last night, sitting at the bar most of the evening talking to my… hmm, I don't know what to call him. It's too early to say boyfriend, I think. But friend isn't enough somehow. Definitely not enough.
I allow myself to enjoy one catty moment of triumph as I think about the look on the bitchy waitress' face when Edward and I came out of his office holding hands. Before I sat down on the barstool, I kissed him… a quick peck, no major PDA. Just a small, familiar kiss – the kind of kiss that lets people know that other kissing goes on behind closed doors. Tanya's hot glare turned icy cold after the kiss, but Edward didn't seem to notice her… or the girls sitting at the other end of the bar flirting with him. Even though he stepped away from me often to work, he always came back when he was done.
When I was ready to leave about midnight, Edward walked me to my truck, hugging me, kissing me quickly, and then opening my door for me. He asked me to text him when I got home so he'd know I was inside safely. When I did, he answered back that he'd call me tomorrow… which is now today.
Giving in to one last yawn, I roll out of bed and walk to the kitchen. As the coffee brews, I look out the sliding glass door that leads to my tiny balcony, studying the thick, gray clouds. I turn on the news and find out it might rain… or it might not. I roll my eyes. But it is going to be unseasonably warm today. The meteorologist is mostly absolutely certain about that. I roll my eyes again and walk back to the coffee pot.
A minute later, I carry my mug of coffee back to my bedroom and start picking through my closet. I pull out jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. I shower and get ready, unsure what time he'll be ready to go. When he calls just a few minutes after noon, I'm ready and tell him I'll pick him up. Then I grab his hoody to wear in case it's cold and practically race to my truck, eager to see him.
He's waiting outside his building for me, so I don't have to look for a parking spot. He opens the passenger door to my truck and slides in, his wide, face-splitting grin matching mine. He's carrying the CD of hip hop songs I made him and he sets it on the dashboard before shutting the door and turning to face me.
"Hey, ballerina," he says, extending his left arm along the back of the seat and leaning over toward me.
"Hi," I whisper as I watch his lips come closer. We kiss, then kiss again. He pulls back to look into my eyes before leaning in once more, raising his right hand to cup the side of my face this time. I feel the warm, wet tip of his tongue glide across my bottom lip just before he captures it between both of his. My already racing heart speeds up more as he pulls gently on my lip. Just as I feel a moan start to rise from my throat, we are interrupted by a car horn from behind us. Oh, crap. I forgot that I'm blocking the right lane of the street.
We both chuckle lightly as we pull apart and Edward sits back up on his side.
"Buckle up," I say, facing forward again and letting the smile fade from my face. My voice sounds husky so I clear my throat quietly, smiling again when I hear him do the same before he answers.
"Okay. Where are we going?" he asks, buckling his seatbelt and then putting his arm across the back of the bench seat again.
I tell him my plan to go to one of the beaches along Lake Washington since it's such a warm day for October. The sky is still overcast, but it's lighter than it was earlier. He agrees and we decide to stop at a deli on the way to pick up lunch.
When we get to the beach, I back into a parking spot facing the water and Edward lowers the tailgate so we can sit down. We talk and eat our sandwiches as we sit looking out at the small waves rippling across the surface of the lake. Unable to sit still, I swing my legs back forth gently, bumping into his from time to time. When we're done, Edward hops down and takes our trash to throw it away… and I stare at his butt the whole time he's walking.
I feel the stirrings of desire in my blood as I watch him and get so lost in my thoughts that I have to snap my eyes back up to his face when he turns around. Judging by his smirk, I think he noticed how far south my eyes wandered. I close my eyes briefly as I feel the familiar rush of heat to my cheeks. But I quickly open them to watch as he saunters easily back to me, hoisting himself into the truck bed effortlessly and shifting around to rest his back against the side of the truck. I scoot around, mimicking his position, facing him. We smile at each other, both of us stretching our legs out between us.
"Tell me stuff," he prods, nudging my leg with his foot.
"Like what?" I ask, self-conscious.
"I don't know. Whatever you want," he shrugs.
"I'm boring," I hedge.
"Ballerina, you're definitely not boring," he says with a laugh. "You constantly surprise me. Tell me anything."
I let my mind rove over several subjects before settling on the Black family. I tell Edward all about my beloved surrogate family, delighting when he laughs along with several of the stories and even interjects some similar stories about his family.
Finally, tired of talking about myself, I scoot to the end of the truck bed, turning to let my legs hang over the tailgate once again.
"Let's take a walk," I say, looking over my shoulder at Edward as I hop down.
"I think it's gonna rain, Bella," he answers, tipping his head up to look at the sky. It's still gray and overcast, but it doesn't look any closer to raining than it did earlier, at least to me.
"You scared of a little rain, barman?" I tease, smiling at him and then turning away to walk slowly toward the paved pathway running along the lake front.
I don't hear him approach me, so I squeal when he grabs me around the waist from behind and lifts me up. "Making fun of me again, ballerina?" he says lowly in my ear, reigniting the fuse of desire I felt earlier. I grab his forearms with my hands.
"Just a little," I whisper as I feel him rest his face against the side of my neck for a few seconds, chuckling quietly. "It's one of my favorite things to do."
"Oh, really?" he asks, sounding amused. "What do you like to make fun of?"
I can't really think because he's still holding me tightly. All I can think about are strong arms around me and a muscular chest behind me… and his hips pressed against mine. He's also still got his face buried in my neck, exhaling warm, humid air right under my ear and making my heart race. But I try to come up with an answer anyway.
"Um... your car, your hair... the way you always mess with your hair," I say, struggling to catch my breath.
"Well, I'm glad I can entertain you," he says quietly. I'm fairly sure that he could find some other ways to entertain me if he tried. He presses one quick kiss against the side of my neck, then he sets me back on my feet and releases me from his strong grasp.
"Come on, ballerina," he says, moving in front of me. I follow him down to the path, shoving my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. We walk side by side along the trail as I ask Edward questions about his life. He talks some more about his family, the basketball buddies that he plays with Tuesday afternoons, how nervous he was to open his own bar.
When we reach the narrow beach, covered with tiny pebbles instead of sand, Edward veers toward it, holding out a hand to steady me as I step down beside him. He doesn't let go of my hand as we continue walking.
"Rain's blowing in," he remarks, looking out over the water. The wind has increased, turning the air chillier and I suddenly wish I hadn't left Edward's hoody in the cab of my truck. The small ripples present earlier on the lake have given way to bigger white-capped waves.
"Really? The sky looks the same as earlier to me," I remark, looking up.
"Bella, you grew up here," he remarks incredulously, turning his head to look at me. "You know what it feels like before it rains."
"No, I grew up in Forks," I clarify. "It just rains all the time there. You never have to wonder."
"This is more a feeling in the air. It's gonna pour in about three minutes," he predicts. I scoff, thinking he's kidding, and look over at him. He holds his watch up to show me the minute hand. "Three minutes." He nods seriously and I giggle back at him.
"You sound like Renata," I tease. "Where's your crystal ball? Or do you read tea leaves? Do I have to start calling you 'Edward the Great' if you're right?" I pull my hand away from his and turn around, walking backward to face him as I tease him. He's trying not to laugh, but his eyes are shining with amusement.
He shrugs. "Hey, I don't mind being wet. I'm not the one wearing a white t-shirt," he says, looking pointedly at my chest.
Oh, shit. I look down, then look back up. He's right.
"Maybe we'd better head back," I concede, looking up at the sky just in time to be hit on the forehead by a big, cold raindrop.
I walk past him quickly, heading back the way we came, and hear him laughing uncontrollably as he follows. I glance over my shoulder to see him holding his watch in front of his face. "Thirty seconds, ballerina," he announces between guffaws.
And 25 seconds later, as if Mother Nature heard me taunting Edward's freaky rain-predicting abilities, the skies open up and a chilly rain begins to fall, turning almost immediately into a downpour. Edward speeds up – to catch up with me – and takes my hand, pulling me along behind him. As the rain continues pelting us even harder, I stumble as we step up onto the path, managing not to fall, but just barely. Edward glances back at me with concern and pulls me to his side, wrapping his arm around my waist. I wrap both of my arms around him and we walk as fast as our awkward stance allows the rest of the way to the truck.
"I'll drive," he says, ushering me to the passenger side of my truck. I hand him the keys and he unlocks and opens the door, then shuts it once I'm inside.
After I lean over to unlock the driver's door, I sit back up and look down at my wet, now-see-through, white shirt. Hurriedly, I pull the thin fabric away from my chest, then groan in horror when it snaps right back, plastering itself to my skin once again. I hear Edward slam the tailgate closed on his way around the back and then he gets in beside me, sitting on my hoody – his hoody – just as I'm about to grab it and cover up.
He's chuckling quietly as he gets in. I turn to look at him and see beads of water slowly dripping down his face and neck. I have a sudden impulse to reach over and catch them with my fingers. Instead, I busy my hands by twisting them into the wet material of my shirt. His hair, usually so carefully crafted, is now dark and flattened to his head. Typically, the first thing he does is run his hand through the top of it a few times, sprinkling drops of water in every direction – including on me – in his effort to get it to stand up again. I smile as I watch him.
Once he starts the truck, I scoot to the middle of the seat to turn on the defroster and the heat in the truck. I feel his eyes on me as I adjust the temperature settings, then I start to scoot away.
"Where are you going, ballerina?" he says quietly. When I turn my head to look at him, his smile is gone. His green eyes bore into mine... his long, dark eyelashes framing them. He tucks some of my wet hair behind my ear with his right hand.
"Back to my side, Edward," I answer just as quietly, but I feel my heart begin to pound.
"That's 'Edward the Great' to you," he teases quietly, turning a bit to face me as he slides his right arm around my shoulders and leans toward me.
As he presses his lips firmly against mine, another sharp stab of desire races through me and I lean into him, sliding my hands around his neck and tangling one in his damp hair. I open my lips to him immediately, sighing softly as his tongue sweeps into my mouth to tangle with mine. I press my chest closer to him and feel the warmth of his left hand as he lifts it to lay on the side of my waist.
As we continue kissing, he holds me close with his right arm even as his left hand is on the move. From the side of my waist, he slides his hand around to my lower back, spreading his fingers wide. When he slides his hand up my back and tugs me more tightly to him, I sigh again and he groans quietly in response. He shifts his right hand from its spot on my shoulder up into my hair, gripping the damp strands with his fingers. His left hand traces along the band of my bra from the middle of my back toward the side, under my arm, and I automatically angle my body out slightly, hoping he'll touch me. But he lowers his hand slightly before sliding around to the front, so that he grazes my ribs instead.
Breathing heavily, he pulls away and rests his forehead against mine, looking into my eyes as he catches his breath. Loosening his grip on me slightly, he sits up a little straighter, then chuckles as he glances at the front window.
"Jesus, ballerina. We fogged up the fucking windows," he says quietly, looking at me again… smiling at me.
"Yeah, I guess the defroster can't quite keep up," I agree, letting my hands slide down to rest on his chest.
He ducks in to kiss me gently once more, then murmurs against my lips, "I think you'd better put the sweatshirt on now."
I can't quite stifle my giggle. "You're sitting on it," I point out, scooting away from him, toward the other side of the truck. Grinning, he tugs the sweatshirt out from underneath himself and hands it over to me. I quickly slide it on while Edward turns the defroster on high and looks around on the dashboard – probably for the windshield wiper knob.
"On the left," I say, and he finds it immediately, switching them on and then grimacing when they squeak loudly across the glass.
"Jesus, ballerina, why do you drive this rickety old hunk of junk?" he asks. He's kidding, I think, but my feelings are still a little hurt.
"My dad gave me this truck when I was 17," I say adamantly. "I love this truck." I know I sound defensive. I am defensive. My dad was so proud to give me this truck and I was so excited to get it. I guess that, to me, it's a tangible symbol of my relationship with my dad. I know I'll drive it until it falls apart.
"Hey, Bella, I was kidding. You know that, right?" he asks gently, reaching over to grab my hand. I turn my head to look at him and nod, smiling when I see that he was being sincere. "This truck fits you perfectly."
As we drive back to his building, he asks me random questions about high school, about boyfriends. There isn't much to tell there, but he acts interested anyway. When he parks in a spot in front of his building, I look quizzically at him.
He leans across the seat to settle his lips lightly against mine. "Come up?" he asks, kissing across my cheek toward my ear.
I pull away slightly because I can't think straight when he's doing that. I also can't form complete sentences. "I can't sit around like this," I say, gesturing to my wet clothes.
"I'll give you something to wear and we'll dry your stuff. We haven't even listened to the hip hop CD yet," he says, trying to sway me. He's not going to have to try very hard.
Exhaling loudly, I nod.
When we get upstairs, he gets me boxers, athletic shorts and a t-shirt, then puts the hip hop CD in his stereo system while I load my wet clothes into the dryer. He turns the music on as I come back into the room.
"You figured out the dryer okay?" he asks, turning to look at me.
"Yes, Edward," I nod, smirking at him. "I pushed start just fine on my own."
"Ballerina," he says warningly as I laugh. When I get close enough to him, he tugs my arm and I stumble into him, happily letting him wrap me in his arms.
We sit down on his couch and talk quietly as the hip hop plays in the background. After six or seven songs, he sighs. "I'm sorry, ballerina. I don't really like this music," he says, looking at me hesitantly.
"Edward, we don't have to like all the same stuff. It's okay," I say reassuringly, stroking my fingers across the back of his hand.
"You're still gonna hang out with me?" he asks, nudging me with his elbow.
"Yeah," I say grudgingly. "I guess. I bet I can find a hip hop song you like, anyway. I'm gonna keep trying." He laughs and stands up, then pulls me to my feet.
"Okay. You keep trying," he relents, pulling me close. "Come on. Let's cook dinner." We spend the next hour in the kitchen, working together to make pasta and salad. I put my own clothes back on when they're dry, but stay to watch a movie after we eat. We talk more… we make out more, but there's still no touching in any of the commonly known erogenous zones. However, I'm rapidly discovering that my body tends to believe that anywhere Edward puts his hands is an erogenous zone… neck, arms, back. I like it all.
At nine o'clock, I reluctantly leave. For the first time in a really long time, I had a full weekend of outside-the-apartment activities. So I've got to get home and get ready for the week. Like last night, Edward walks me to my truck, kisses me goodnight and asks me to text when I'm safely in my apartment. When I do, he asks me to stop and see him before my classes Monday night. Smiling, I type out my assent and then giggle as my phone rings in my hand. It's him.
Even though we just spent the whole day together, butterflies erupt in my stomach and I hastily clear my throat before answering. "Hello?"
"Hey, Bella," he says quickly.
"Hi," I answer, irrationally giddy that he's calling me after we spent the whole afternoon and evening together.
"I forgot to say thanks… you know, for the date," he says.
I laugh before I answer. "You're welcome, Edward. I had a good time."
"I did, too. So… I'll see you tomorrow, right?" he asks.
"Yeah. I'll stop by," I confirm.
"Okay. See you then. Night, ballerina," he says softly.
"Bye," I reply, smiling widely as we disconnect. Biting my lower lip, I contemplate whether he really called to say thanks or whether, like me, he wasn't quite ready for the day to end. In the end, I decide it doesn't really matter why he called… it only matters that he did.
For the next three days, both Edward and I are busy working, but we make time for quick conversations and kisses. At the Full Moon, they're getting ready for the big Halloween party coming up on Saturday. I know Edward won't have a lot of free time until Sunday, but I told him I'd come by the bar Thursday after classes.
I've just finished cleaning the studio Thursday night when I hear a knock on the side door. As I walk toward it, I hear Edward's voice.
"Ballerina, it's me," he calls through the crack.
Smiling widely, I unlock the door and open it to let him in. "Hi," I say, rising up on my tiptoes to peck his lips.
"Hi," he answers, putting his arms around my waist and kicking the door shut with his foot. He leans back against the closed door, pulling me with him to rest against his chest. He lowers his mouth to mine again and I eagerly part my lips to let him in. His tongue swipes slowly, almost lazily, against mine for a minute, until I shift my weight from side to side... wanting more – wanting him.
He grunts into my mouth then, kissing me more intently and spreading his hands to span my waist across the back. He slides them down until he's almost touching my behind, but he stops just at the top curve, his index fingers and thumbs slipping inside the fabric of my cami to stroke slowly along the skin above my booty shorts. I switch one hand from around his neck to around his waist, sliding it up the inside of his t-shirt to scratch my nails lightly across his lower back.
"Shit, ballerina," he groans, pulling away. "This isn't why I came over here." He chuckles lightly, his green eyes glowing in the bright fluorescent lights of the hallway.
He pulls me into a hug, using one hand to push my head into his chest right over his heart. I smile when I hear it thundering away just like mine.
He takes a deep breath before he speaks again. "My dad's next door. He wants to meet you," he says.
I gasp and jerk my head up to look at him. "Edward! Oh, my God! Why were you kissing me like that right before you want me to meet your dad? Oh, my God. He's gonna know – he's gonna know we were over here making out," I say, my voice rising higher and higher as panic sets in.
"Bella, hey... calm down," he laughs, letting go of me easily when I pull myself out of his arms. "Baby, it's all right. He just wants to say hi."
I'm aware that he called me baby, which I really like, but I can't allow myself to enjoy it right now. I'll have to revisit that later.
"Jesus, Edward. Why did you... now I'm all... and I have to meet... and it's your dad," I stammer, glaring at him when he continues to laugh at me. I can tell he makes an effort to control himself then, wiping the smile off his face and stepping forward to take my hands in his.
"Bella, he's gonna like you," Edward says softly, smiling at me. "Everyone likes you. He'll wonder what the fuck you're doing with me though." He chuckles and raises one eyebrow at me.
One side of my mouth curls upward and I squeeze his hands. "I'm a mess," I argue.
"You look good, ballerina... but you might want to change if you don't want me to beat up every fucking guy in the bar," he says. I glance down at my bare, pale legs and too-short shorts. "It's gonna be easy. Mom and Rose went to dinner, but Emmett's next door." I exhale loudly, happy to know I have another ally.
Finally, I nod at him. "Okay. You go back. I'll change and be over in five minutes," I offer. He looks at me questioningly. "I promise. Five minutes." With another quick kiss, he turns and goes out the door.
I rush into my office, grabbing my jeans, long-sleeved shirt and makeup bag from my duffle. I go straight to the bathroom and change quickly, trying to yank the v-neck of my t-shirt a little higher. If I just had some decent boobs, it wouldn't look so saggy. Sighing in aggravation, I pull the hair tie out and brush my hair then put a little powder and lip gloss on.
I try to study my reflection objectively. My hair looks okay – there's a little bump where the elastic band has been wrapped around it all night, but at least it's not frizzy. My face looks okay – no big zits or blotchiness. I check my teeth – nothing stuck – and chew on a breath mint as I put everything away.
I glance at my watch: four and a half minutes have gone by. I get my keys, purse and duffle, switch off the lights and head out the door, stopping briefly to stash my duffle in the cab of my truck.
When I walk in the side door of the bar, I immediately spot Emmett standing behind the bar.
"Tiny!" he calls, waving me over. I smile as I approach him, knowing that he's trying to ease my anxiety. "You want a shot?" he stage whispers when I get close enough.
"No, thanks," I laugh, feeling more relaxed already. "Water will be fine."
He chatters at me while he fixes my ice water with lime, then leans across the bar to touch my hand. "The doc's a nice guy, Tiny. You'll have him eating out of your hand in no time." He points me toward the farthest booth toward the back – I can't even see it from where I'm standing.
Nervously, I walk in that direction, smiling with relief when my eyes meet Edward's and he slides out of the booth and stands to greet me. As soon as he does, the man sitting across from him follows suit, scooting out of the booth and turning as he stands to look at me. Holy hell. Edward wasn't lying – Rose looks a lot like her dad. He smiles her same smile, his blue eyes twinkling, as I reach them.
"Bella, this is my dad, Carlisle," Edward says. His voice sounds normal, but his face is turning a little red. He looks so cute – all embarrassed – that I grin more widely at him before I turn my attention to his dad.
"Bella, it's so nice to meet you at last," Dr. Cullen says, reaching out to shake my hand.
I glance down at the hand I'm grasping – this Edward gets from his father. Their large hands, their long, slender fingers are the same.
"It's nice to meet you, too, Dr. Cullen," I say.
"Please call me Carlisle," he says as he releases my hand.
Edward takes my water so I can slide in the booth first, then sets it in front of me and slides in beside me, reaching over to grab my hand under the table. He squeezes my palm gently and then rests our entwined hands on his leg.
As Carlisle asks me questions, I see him glance at Edward often. Edward is fidgety, seemingly unable to sit still. I look at him quizzically – he's not like this when his mom is here.
"I think I'm making Edward nervous," Carlisle says to me. He seems to be good-natured… and he seems to be enjoying torturing his son a little. I smile when I think of my dad always making a point to parade around in his boxers and a t-shirt mere minutes before my friends were due to arrive during my high school years. I would beg him to get dressed every time. Maybe it's a dad thing to derive a little fun from embarrassing the kids. "I'm not sure what it is that he's afraid I'm going to say." He chuckles and I laugh, too.
"Dad," Edward says warningly.
"Relax, Edward," Carlisle says. "Your mother is much more prone to gushing than I am. I'm not going to say anything about how glad your mother and I are that Bella is around… or how anxious we are to have you two over to the house for dinner." He pauses for effect. "Oops."
Carlisle and I laugh and after a few seconds, Edward grudgingly joins in.
"I'm telling Mom on you," Edward says as Esme and Rose approach our table.
"I'm not scared of your mother," Carlisle states defiantly, not able to see that Esme is coming up behind him.
"Oh, you're not, huh?" Esme asks from behind him, crossing her arms across her chest and raising her eyebrows jokingly. Now it's Carlisle who's red-faced, embarrassed, even as he laughs with everyone else.
Carlisle slides over to let Esme in the booth, pecking her lips lightly once she's seated. Rose pulls up a chair at the end of the booth.
With Rose and Esme's arrival, the talk turns to the Halloween party this weekend. Esme excitedly asks about everyone's costumes. Edward insists that he never dresses in costume as Esme shakes her head at him and Rose rolls her eyes dramatically.
"What about you, Bella?" Esme asks, smiling at me.
"I'm not sure. Alice is bringing something by tomorrow. She kind of put herself in charge," I laugh. I was actually relieved, for once, when Alice told me she'd take care of it. I hadn't had any great ideas and Alice really is good at this kind of stuff.
"Emmett and I are surprising everyone," Rosalie announces. "We'll definitely win the costume contest."
"You guys can't win, Rose," Edward says, frowning at her. "You're employees."
"Whatever. I say we'll win anyway," she says, leveling her gaze at her brother. "Or don't you ever want me to lift the-."
"Shut the hell up, Rose," Edward says through gritted teeth.
They glare at each other for a minute until Carlisle breaks the silence.
"See, Es? This is what it sounded like when they lived at home. You don't miss that, do you?" he asks, winking at me. "Esme's got a bit of the empty nest syndrome," he explains quietly to me. I nod and smile back at him.
"No, I don't miss this part," Esme answers quickly, her green eyes shining the same way Edward's do when he's amused. "I miss the part where they were sweet babies," she says wistfully.
"Mom, Rose was never a sweet baby. She bit me the day you brought me home from the hospital," Edward jokes. Rose punches his arm, but they smile at each other and laugh as he rubs the spot she hit.
Carlisle craftily changes the subject then, and we sit in the booth talking for another hour. As Carlisle and Esme prepare to leave, Carlisle reaches across the table to pat my hand.
"Take care, Bella. We'll see you again soon," he says kindly, sparing a glance in Edward's direction. "I'm sure."
Saturday night, my doorbell rings four times in quick succession as I dash toward the door.
"Jesus, Alice, put your patient panties on," I grumble as I unlock the door and pull it open.
We each gasp as we look at each other. Hers in excitement, mine in disbelief.
"It's perfect! You look great!" she gushes excitedly, pulling me into a hug. "He won't be able to keep his hands off you tonight after he sees you in this. There will be groping!"
I hug back, now speechless for two reasons. I decide to ignore the groping comment and focus instead on her outfit as we pull apart.
"Alice, what the hell are you dressed as?" I stammer.
"A schoolgirl. A naughty schoolgirl," she replies, twirling in a circle for me. Short plaid skirt, tight white shirt and knee-hi socks. I shake my head slightly at her. "And Jasper is the stuffy professor I tempt into exploring his naughty side. Wait 'til you see him. Tweed jacket, pipe, the whole bit." She laughs.
"Alice, you are unbelievable," I say, still shocked. I'm not really sure why though. I should have expected something like this from her, especially after all the role-playing she talked about today at Rose's final lap dance lesson. I have way too much knowledge of both of their sex lives now.
After Rose left this afternoon, Alice badgered me about Edward and was disappointed to learn that nothing new happened this week. I tried to explain that we hadn't really been alone because he hadn't had any nights off, but Alice shook her head at me and mumbled something unintelligible under her breath. I distinctly heard the words "naïve girl" and "idiot boy" though.
"What? I don't look hot enough?" she asks, turning to look in the mirror beside my door and snapping me out of my not-so-fond remembrance. "Nah. I'm totally smokin'. And, by the way, so are you… in a much more innocent way." She nods at me and motions with her finger for me to turn in a circle.
Smiling, I indulge her. She was right earlier… this costume is perfect. When she showed up yesterday with the black, shimmery flapper dress – complete with several rows of fringe – I knew right away I would love it. The shift dress is modest enough for me to feel comfortable wearing it, but has a broad neckline that accentuates my shoulders and neck. The cut of the dress is shorter and less boxy than a traditional flapper dress, skimming close to my body and ending a few inches above my knees.
I didn't even fight Alice about the fishnet stockings she brought, agreeing that they looked right with the dress. She showed me how to pin my hair so that it looked like I'd gotten a bob and gave me a headband adorned with a long, black feather.
As I'm turning, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, noting how dramatic the deep red lipstick and dark fabric look against my pale skin, and smile. I'm anxious and excited to see Edward's reaction; other than our date to Pike Place, I've never been dressed in anything except casual clothes or dancewear around him.
"You look like you stepped out of the roaring 20's," Alice pronounces as I face her again. She nods, then wiggles her eyebrows at me. "Edward doesn't stand a chance. Jasper's waiting in the car. Let's go."
Four hours later, Alice and I are dancing – jumping around in front of the band with all the other drunks. Except I'm not drunk. I've had a few beers, but not enough to impair me. I glance over at the bar… Edward's been busy the whole night. I've barely been able to talk to him, but I catch him looking at me a lot. Right now he's standing at the cash register, so his back is turned toward the room. I study his broad shoulders… the way his sides taper down to his waist… and sigh quietly.
Rose suddenly appears beside me and pulls my hand, turning me toward her.
"Quit staring, slut," she laughs. "You two are ridiculous… all these smoldering, lustful looks at each other. It's like you're trying to make me feel sorry for you. It won't work." She shakes her head at me as I look at her confusedly, and then hugs me with one arm in a rare display of affection.
I laugh and hug her back. Every time I look at Rose and Emmett tonight, I laugh. They came as the Hilton sisters. Rose looks pretty normal, just a little glammed up. Emmett… Emmett is wearing a red, strapless dress, a long, blonde wig, false eyelashes and red lipstick. I almost fell down when I first saw him. When he saw me, he pronounced me "hot" – and although he didn't say it with quite the same inflection as Paris, it was close. Edward, who was standing next to Emmett, nodded in agreement, but kissed me instead of talking to me… which was just fine with me.
Alice, Rose and I dance together for the next few minutes. When Jasper pulls Alice away to dance, Rose and I both turn toward the bar again. Edward's not back there, but Emmett lifts his arm to wave at us.
"I had to sew four dresses together to make that outfit for him. I'd better be getting something in return later," she yells in my ear. I giggle, then startle as someone grabs my waist from behind. I whirl around and come face to face with Edward just as the band segues into a slow song.
"Hey," I say, grinning up at him stupidly. Maybe I am a little impaired.
"Hi," he answers, smiling back. "Dance with me?" When I nod, he slides his right arm more tightly around my waist and reaches for my right hand with his left.
I slide my left arm around his neck, sighing as I remember the last time we danced… on my birthday… I remember how I wished he was mine. I stroke my fingers gently over the nape of his neck several times before burying them in his hair.
He leans down to whisper in my ear. "You look fucking great, ballerina," he breathes. I smile and turn my head to press my lips against his cheek. He pulls back to press his lips to mine.
"I like this song," I say after a minute – I know some of the words…still my guitar gently weeps. "The Beatles?"
"Yeah," he answers, still smiling at me and letting go of my hand so he can slide both arms around my waist. He kisses me again. "Are you having a good time?"
"Yes. Are you?" I ask.
"Yeah, except Lauren keeps fucking making fun of me," he says with a chuckle.
"Why is Lauren making fun of you?" I ask, chuckling just because he is.
"Because I keep looking at you," he says. I narrow my eyes and look up at him.
"Really? You have a thing for me or something?" I ask. Yeah, I'm shamelessly asking for confirmation that he likes me. I mean, I know… but it's always nice to know.
Nodding slowly, he leans down to press his lips softly to mine, then moves his lips to my ear. "Come home with me?" he whispers. Closing my eyes, I nod, too.
I'm nervous as hell when we get to Edward's two hours later. It's been a long time since I slept with Seth… more than two years. I should have kept drinking beer instead of switching to Diet Coke.
Once we're inside his condo, in his living room, he kisses me. "I'll get you something to sleep in, okay? And I'm going to shower. I've been at the bar all fucking day," he says.
A few minutes later, I'm in the extra bathroom changing and trying to get all the pins out of my hair while Edward showers in his room. Once my hair is loose and long again and I'm dressed in the same Radiohead t-shirt and plaid boxers I wore last week, I wash off my make-up, and then walk to the kitchen to get a bottle of water. I twist the top off and gulp a third of the bottle greedily… guzzling like it's liquid courage – which of course it's not.
And then I hear footsteps in the hallway, so I turn my head and see Edward walking toward me. He's wearing basketball shorts and pulling his t-shirt on over his head, giving me a momentary glimpse of his chest and stomach before they're covered. I swallow more water hastily, splashing a little around my mouth. I lower the bottle and raise my other hand to wipe away the excess.
"Can I have a sip?" he asks as he approaches where I'm standing at the kitchen counter. Jesus. He smells good… he always smells good, but now he's freshly… good. Shit. Can't think clearly. Breathe, Bella. Answer him and breathe.
"Mmmhmm," I manage to utter, holding the water out toward him. He takes it from my hand and drinks. I turn my body to face him… to watch him.
"You okay, ballerina?" he asks, setting the water down on the counter and resting his hands on my shoulders. I nod, lowering my eyes, then quickly raising them again when I'm afraid he'll think I'm looking at… him. I focus on his neck… he has three tiny moles right above the neckline of his t-shirt.
"Hey, Bella," he says. "What's wrong?" He puts two fingers under my chin and tilts my face up toward his, but I keep my eyes on his neck.
I swallow loudly. "Nothing. I'm just…," I whisper, letting the words die out and the silence take over.
"What, baby?" he asks, so softly, so… carefully that my eyes lift to meet his all on their own. When I see the worry in his gaze, I want to wash it away. I smile and lift my hand to his face, scratching my fingers lazily through the already-visible whiskers on his jaw. He smiles tentatively as I slide my hand from his jaw around to the back of his neck and pull at the same time I raise myself on my toes and meet his lips with my own.
Our lips touch gently, lingeringly once… twice. The third time, our open mouths crash together in a tangle of lips, teeth and tongues. I wind my arms around his neck. Edward slides his arms around me, up the inside of my shirt to caress my bare back. As his hands skim up and down – and then around toward my front – I whimper quietly and hope he'll keep going. But instead of sliding up toward my chest, Edward's hands shift to my back again, fingers spreading wide and pulling me closer.
Suddenly, he pulls his mouth away from mine… pulls his hands from my skin. He backs up a step, out of my arms, and reaches for my hands with his. Smiling, he backs up another step, pulling me forward with him. When I take two steps toward him instead of just one, he leans in to kiss me quickly. He backs up again, tugging me along and then finally drops one hand and turns around, pulling me down the hallway toward his room.
The nerves that were silenced by the kissing quickly spike again as we reach his doorway, but he doesn't seem to notice my hesitance as he continues walking into the room. He stops when we're next to the bed and kisses me once more.
"I'll be right back. I'm just gonna go turn off all the lights I left on out there," he says. Ah, he does realize I'm freaking out a little here and he's giving me a minute to get myself together. Jeez. Now I like him even more.
Hurriedly, I pull the covers back and get in bed on the same side where I slept last week. When he comes back a minute later, he gets in the other side and we lie facing each other. Immediately, he starts talking, telling me that he let Lauren pick the costume winner so he wouldn't get in trouble with Rose… asking me which costumes I thought were best… agreeing with me when I said I thought Emmett's was the funniest. I laugh with him when he says that although he likes Alice and Jasper, he thought their costumes were creepy.
As our laughter dies down, I scoot closer to him, raising my hand to his shoulder as he lifts one to my waist. We lean toward each other and kiss… then never pull apart. He doesn't let his lips leave mine as he pulls me closer. I slide my hand down his arm then back up, working my hand under the short sleeve of his shirt to rest on his bare shoulder. Soon after, his hand snakes up under my shirt and rests just above my waist.
Slowly over the next couple of minutes, his hand moves higher and higher until finally he cups my breast in his hand, using his thumb to swipe across the nipple. Sighing into his mouth, I kiss him more fervently and shift my legs, hooking my ankle around his leg. He pulls his mouth away from mine, kissing down my neck as I tilt my head back to give him better access.
He uses his teeth and tongue to assault my neck before moving his lips back to mine. He continues caressing me for several more minutes, then lets his hand drift down to my stomach at the same time he slows his passionate kisses.
"Ballerina, we'd probably better stop before we get carried away," he murmurs.
"Okay," I whisper, both disappointed and relieved. I press my closed lips to his two more times.
He rolls to his back and pulls me into his arms so that I'm pressed up against his side, my head resting on his shoulder. He kisses the top of my head as I wrap my arm around his waist. Smiling, I let my eyes slide closed and, content, fall asleep.
EPOV
Fuck. Fuck… fuck… fucking hell. I lie wide awake, forcing myself to stay on hand patrol before I do something I shouldn't… something I really shouldn't.
I grasp her hand and move it up again. As soon as I let go, she slides it right back down. Why do I keep fucking letting go? Because it feels so goddamn good to have a hand besides my own on my dick – it's been weeks since anyone else has touched me. And her repeated gropings in the dead of night – in her fucking sleep – have me aching... and aching for more.
"Bella… Bella… ballerina," I whisper.
"Hmm?" she answers sleepily. Her eyelids flutter, but don't really open.
I groan. "Jesus Christ, Bella. If you don't stop putting your hand there…," I say hoarsely, letting my voice trail off at the end.
"Putting my hand where?" she mumbles.
"There," I answer, covering her hand with mine. Her hand squeezes a tiny bit, exploring… trying to figure out what she's touching… trying to fucking torture me… I don't know. "Fuck."
She gasps when she realizes what she's got a handful of, but she doesn't let go. I pull her hand away roughly and roll us, pushing myself in between her legs and hovering over her.
"Edward," she sighs breathily, reaching her hands up to my face, my hair.
I dive toward her mouth, pulling at her lower lip with my teeth and balancing on one arm as I slide my hand up her shirt again, unable to keep my hands off her chest now that I've touched her perfect tits. I cup one, squeezing gently, plucking at the nipple as she whimpers under me.
She pulls at my shirt until I awkwardly pull it off and toss it to the side; and she sighs again as she glides her hands across my bare chest. Jesus, all her little fucking sounds drive me more insane. She pulls her own shirt up part way so that our warm skin meets, sticks together. I feel her hips lift toward mine hesitantly and I thrust myself against her, moaning her name as I rock myself against her again and again.
"Oh, God, Edward," she says hoarsely as she hooks her hands in the waistband of my shorts and starts to push them down.
Fuck.
I scoot my hips back and pull my mouth away from hers, burying my face in her neck. I slide my hand out of her shirt, pressing my palm to the bed beside her shoulder.
"Oh, God. We have to stop, Bella. I can't sleep with you," I growl.
"What? Wha… you don't want to… you don't want… me?" she whispers between gasping breaths, tensing under me.
"Jesus Christ, ballerina. Of course I want you… of course I want to," I insist, then press a kiss against her skin. "I just can't." I think she knows I can. She had her hand all over my rock-hard dick a few minutes ago.
"Why not?" she asks, still breathing heavily. She lifts her hands to my head and runs her fingers soothingly through my hair again and again. Fuck, now I feel worse.
I sigh loudly. "Because my fucking sister made me promise not to."
Her fingers slow... and then stop moving altogether. The room is completely quiet except for the sound of our still-rapid breathing. Neither of us breaks the verbal silence for a minute – until I feel her breath ruffle my hair as she exhales one word confusedly.
"What?"