Chapter 21

"Courage is grace under pressure."
― Ernest Hemingway

Edward

I would rather chop my junk up like franks and beans and feed it to the local wolves with a side of freshly pulled toenails than officially meet Bella's dad. I would even do it more than once, I think, if it were possible.

I've avoided breathing the same air as Chief Charlie as if it were the plague, but last night, it caught up to me. I was in town with Mom and caught sight of the chief on the other side of the street. Our eyes locked for a fraction of a second before I ducked and ran like my ass was on fire. I figure I've got forty-eight hours to present myself before I become a teenage girl instead of a boy in Charlie's eyes. I can't imagine him taking it well if his daughter were to come out of the closet.

So, here I sit in Emmett's car with my leg bouncing so fast I think it's going to run off on its own. I took a double of Xanax—I hope I can fucking pull this off without looking like I'm drunk, but that's what it took to get me out the front door.

Emmett glances over at me and shakes his head. Bella and I have been officially dating for three weeks now, and it's been fucking awesome, but my stress levels have been through the roof. When I'm not jacking off or out with Bella, that is. When I'm with her, literally or figuratively, I somehow forget the fucked up way this all started, but when I'm alone, it all comes roaring back and turns me into a twitchy asshole someone should put a gun to. And my jackass brother would be first in line.

"Do you think you could do us all a favor and calm the fuck down after this is over with? Assuming Chief Charlie lets you keep your dick, nothing bad is gonna happen. No one knows your secret, and no one knows—"

My fist flashes out and connects with his bicep before he can utter the words.

"—anything else they shouldn't, so just … fucking enjoy yourself, okay? Bella's a cool girl, and for some reason, she actually likes you. Don't convince her you're too neurotic to be dateable."

I slug his arm again, but this time, there's no force behind it.

"Can Rosalie spell 'neurotic'?" I ask, pressing myself against the window to avoid Emmett's tree trunk of an arm as it swings my way for a headlock.

"I don't care if she can because she sucks dick like a Shop-Vac, and her tit size has more letters than her name. But that's not the point. The point is, get through this and then relax."

The car stops moving, and I manage to pull in half a breath before all the air in the world solidifies. We're in front of Bella's house.

"If I have to come back and get you, I'm gonna beat your ass on top of it, I swear to God. I can aim low."

The joke falls flat as my eyes meet Emmett's. I try to swallow, but it comes out as this choking sound, and Emmett forces a smile.

"Man up, and show him what you're made of. Shake his hand like Dad taught us, and don't look away. It'll be fine."

What I'm made of is a swirling mass of soon-to-be vomit, hopefully not on the Chief's shoes. My whole life is a lie, and I started dating Bella to preserve that lie. A lie on top of a lie that's now grown into something wonderful, but its roots are still rotten and shameful.

And Charlie's gonna see it; I just know it.

"Bella's at the door. Go."

Emmett's words seem to come from far away, but I obey on autopilot and push myself to stand beside the car on shaky legs. I look over the hood and some part of me registers how pretty Bella looks as she smiles at me, but then her brow furrows and her mouth drops open.

"I'm going to get the mail, Dad!" she calls, and she's suddenly beside me.

"Let's take a walk."

She leads me around the side of the house and into the woods just behind Charlie's toolshed.

"Are you this stressed about meeting my dad?"

A wave of nausea ripples through me, and I have to swallow to keep the bile down.

"He's got … guns … and he knows things," I stammer out, putting a hand on the tree that's materialized beside me.

"The hickeys have faded, and we haven't … Wait … that's not it, is it? You're worried about your secret."

I nod numbly, knowing full well she doesn't know which secret. Jesus motherfucking Christ, what I'd give to have no secrets.

"There's no way he could know. And even if he somehow asked you, you're so good at what you have to do to keep your secret—"

Faking. Deceiving. Flat out fucking lying.

"—that I'm sure you could fool him anyway."

I take a few stumbling steps forward, lean over, and hurl.

"Christ, Edward!" Bella exclaims, but I throw my hand out to keep her from coming any closer.

Goddamnmotherfuckingsonofabitch! I just blew fucking chunks in front of my girlfriend.

My former girlfriend.

I've never felt this low in my entire life. What kind of a wuss-bitch am I that I can't even keep it together enough to meet Bella's dad? Fucking Jesus! I'd vomit again if there were anything left to bring up.

She doesn't approach, but I can feel she's still there. I straighten up, but there's no way I can turn around.

The leaves behind me crackle, and her touch is feather-light as she makes circles on my back.

Pity. Bella, you're killing me.

"Just … go back to your house. I'll call Emmett to pick me up."

"Are you sick? I thought it was just nerves—"

"It was. But what the fuck does that matter now?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I'll tell everyone you dumped me, if you want. Whatever makes it easiest for you."

"Edward, what the fuck are you talking about? You think … you think because you got nervous about meeting my dad that I don't want to be with you anymore?"

"I didn't just get nervous about meeting your dad. I had a fucking panic attack and topped it off with—fuck!—losing my lunch!"

"So? What's a little vomit between friends? Why do you always assume I'm going to run screaming the minute something happens that's—"

"—not normal. I'm not normal, Bella. I'm never gonna fucking be normal! Why doesn't that bother you?"

Her deep breath reverberates through the air around us, and I want to turn around so I can figure out what she's thinking … but I can't.

Because I'm naked.

As surely as if I've stripped down, but even more so. A shiver rolls through me as Bella flattens her hand against my back.

"I was going to say 'the minute something happens that's out of your control'. It's out of your control, Edward. The seizures aren't your fault, and your anxiety developed because of them. None of this is your fault. And if it makes you different, who cares? What the hell is 'normal' anyway? Is the way Mike abuses people normal? Is the way the popular girls try to make the rest of us feel like shit normal? If that's normal, then I don't want any part of it! Stop comparing yourself to everyone else and just … be. Be with me."

The silence is now broken by my breathing, which is slow and even. My heart feels like it's surging in my chest, and I know what this feeling is because I named it three weeks ago. And I know it'll never go away. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I turn and throw my arms around her, pulling her to me and pressing my lips into her collarbone to keep them inside. I want to say them but not next to a pile of vomit in the woods, even if it is the place where I bared my soul. She deserves better than that.

"I'll … try," I manage to croak out, wanting to believe it's really that simple—that I can make up my mind to let go, and it'll actually happen. I've been so uptight about so many things for so long.

"Let's stay here until my dad leaves. I didn't tell him yet you were coming to meet him, so we can just—"

"No."

Bella pulls back, her nose wrinkled up in that way I adore.

"What?"

"No." It's louder this time. Stronger.

"I want to meet your dad and tell him—fuck, I want him to know you're with me and that I'm not—"

Bella reaches up and cradles my cheek, her eyes misty.

"You don't have to do this. It's so hard for you."

"No, I do. I'm calm now. I purged my anxiety … um, literally." I smirk at her, and she shakes her head as she smiles.

"I can do this. I want to do this. It's important."

My gaze shoots downward, but Bella grabs my chin, making me raise my eyes to her. She studies me, and I don't squirm because I think she sees me. The me underneath all the fear who has found the courage to do something because it's the right thing to do. The real me I've been hiding for years.

And I like it.

"Go," I say, drawing her wrists together in front of me. "Go in, and I'll wait a few minutes then come to the door, just the way it was supposed to happen."

"You're not gonna bolt on me, are you?"

If I didn't bolt after I barfed, why the hell would I do it now? Can meeting the Chief possibly be worse?

"I promise."

Her smile warms the tips of my ears as she walks away backward, only turning when she reaches the edge of the woods.

I take a deep breath—the real me doesn't feel quite so courageous without a beautiful girl making goo-goo eyes at me. Fuck.

Come on, Edward, you can do this.

Besides, it'll take him some time to load the shotgun, and I can run like hell if I need to. Also, Bella would make a pretty good human shield. She'd protect the vital parts, anyway.

I square my shoulders, pop a breath mint, and walk out of the woods, trying to walk like a man and not a prima ballerina. I feel lightheaded and queasy—thank God I don't have anything left to bring up.

Deep breaths. Passing out on the porch will not impress the Chief.

My trembling legs deposit me in front of the door, and I can hear the ballgame on in the living room.

Charlie's watching the game. It's not cool to disturb a man and his sports, right? Maybe we should save this for another day.

I manage to turn away from the door, but deep brown eyes, the ones from over by the shed that were filled with things I can only hope for, stop me cold.

Edward, man up.

Speaking of my manhood, where the hell is that fucker now, eh?

Not threatening to never jizz again if we don't meet Charlie, are ya?

I would reach down and make sure everything's still there, but I'm terrified that my dick's somehow managed to crawl back inside me.

This is fucking ridiculous.

I turn around and ring the doorbell before I have the chance to talk myself out of it, and my stomach does that swooping thing like when you start going down that first big hill of a roller coaster.

"I'll get it!"

Oh, shit, here we go …

Bella whips the door open, her eyes a little too bright and eager—as if she's trying to hold me together by the sheer force of her will. She nods encouragingly, but her Edward bolt-o-meter must be going off because she threads her arm through mine and pulls me over the threshold.

"Are you okay?" she whispers, and I think I nod, but it's hard to tell when so much of me seems to be shaking. Her lips curl into a frown. "Let's get this over with."

As we cross the living room, Chief Charlie stands and sizes me up as if there's a little table between us and a mirrored wall behind me. He's in his uniform for work, but I almost pass out from relief when I see there's no holster on his hip.

"H-h-hi, sir. I'm Edward Cullen."

Thank God I've had that one memorized for fifteen years and can spit it out on autopilot.

"Yes. I believe you and I have met before, son," Charlie says as his eyebrows draw together.

Bella looks confused, but visions of trespassing, vandalism, and minor property damage flash before my eyes.

"Yes, sir, but I'm—"

A man.

A pussy.

Nauseous.

"—older now."

"That is how time works," Charlie replies, not giving me a millimeter of slack.

Sweat is rolling down between my shoulder blades, but my lips are as dry as Charlie's humor. Why does your body never put the moisture where you actually need it?

"I-I-I just wanted to introduce myself to you formally, sir," I say, thrusting out my hand. "Since Bella and I are f-f-f—dating."

Sweet baby Jesus in a basket, what the ever-loving fuck was that!

Several things happen at once: I nearly choke on my tongue, Bella claws my arm like a cat over a bathtub, and Charlie tries to dislocate my fingers.

"We're dating! All we're doing is dating, sir, I swear! We haven't even—I mean, I haven't seen—"

Bella elbows me so hard it knocks the wind out of me, and while I gasp for breath, she gives Charlie the darkest glare I've ever seen.

The laser beams decrease the slightest bit in intensity, and blood suddenly floods back into my fingers.

"Let's keep it that way, shall we?"

"Dad!" Bella exclaims, absolutely horrified, but Charlie tries to stifle a chuckle.

"It's nice to meet you, son. Why don't you walk me out?"

If looks could kill, Charlie would be no more than a pile of ash, but as it is, all I can do is gape at Bella in terror as I follow Charlie into the hallway.

His glance over his shoulder stops Bella in her tracks, and she flops down on the couch as if her legs won't hold her anymore. And I'm left to wonder if my chalk outline will be in the entryway or somewhere outside the house.

Charlie puts on his gun belt, and while I'm debating if I can vomit and piss myself at the same time, he claps a hand down on my shoulder.

Hot breath that smells like bologna blasts my face. "Son, a shotgun and a shovel are child's play. I'll make it look like the bears got ya. Don't give me a reason."

"N-n-n-n-o, sir. Never," I stammer out, trying to keep all my bodily fluids where they belong.

"Good boy," Charlie says, hefting his jacket over his shoulder. I think I see a smirk on his face, but I'm pretty sure I'm having stress-induced hallucinations, so I can't be sure.

The door snaps closed, and Bella appears at my side.

"Are you all right?"

I reach between my legs and give my junk a firm squeeze, both to make sure everything's still there and to try and snap me out of my haze. "Yeah. Um, I think so."

Bella blows out a relieved breath while failing miserably at hiding her smirk. She wraps her arms around me, pulling me close as her clasped hands come to rest on the small of my back.

"I really appreciate what you just did," she says, kissing my nose, "but let's avoid my dad at all costs for a few weeks. Give him some time to forget what you haven't seen."

My cheeks heat as my mind gives me a slow-motion replay of my most recent colossal fuck up. Why the hell was the word "fuck" about to come out of my mouth? I haven't even fucked her yet! Are your dick and your mouth both on a hair-trigger when you're seventeen? I didn't think dating would be so dangerous!

"Speaking of things not seen, what did my dad say to you before he left?" Bella asks, cocking her head to the side.

Oh, nothing really. He just described my impending sudden loss of life.

"Um, sports stuff." Hunting's a sport, right? But usually the bears aren't the ones hunting you.

"Oh," Bella says, not really looking convinced, but she lets it go.

Now that my trip through hell is complete, I realize I'm still sweating like a pig and could really use to splash some water on my face and piss out whatever thankfully didn't make a puddle on Charlie's floor.

"Um … can I use your bathroom?"

"Sure."

She grabs my arm before I reach the stairs.

"Oh! Hang on a minute!"

Is that a smirk on her face? I frown at her as she squeezes past me.

What could she possibly be … Wait, could she have had things hanging in there? Girly things?

A movie of Bella pulling down bras and thongs from the shower rod rolls in my head with "Cherry Pie" as its soundtrack, making my jeans uncomfortably tight.

Son of a bitch, if I missed leering at her lingerie because I wasn't quick enough—

Bella skips down the stairs, saying nothing as she passes, and I continue up, shaking my head.

I do my business, but when I turn to the sink to wash my hands, I find a travel tube of toothpaste and a brush with a little red bow on it, and I can't hold in my snicker.

Bella thinks of fucking everything, and somebody wants to put her tongue in my mouth tonight really badly.

A/N: He survived! Whew! The movies is up next—see you on July 26!