Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.
Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.
This chapter contains an excerpt from Shakespeare's Hamlet. All rights are reserved by the original author and publisher.
Leading Lady
Chapter 21 – I've Caught You Once More in Mine Arms
Seventh period was starting to become my sit-quietly-and-freak-out period.
Bella.
She amazed me. She amazed me without even trying.
Once again, the dreaded subject of Crime and Punishment was completely glossed over. Instead, I addressed her writing.
After what happened yesterday, with the kissing and what not and seeing her again in the evening… I completely neglected to read what she'd given me until this morning. On my way to class.
The second I pulled up in the parking lot, I realized that I couldn't face Bella without having read what she'd written for me. It must have taken a lot for her to work up the courage to hand a piece of herself to me, and the most harm I could do would be to ignore it.
So I pulled it out of my bag and started reading as I walked to class.
Arizona
You left three small purple dots
On my forearm that night.
Hot August awakened your
Hot temper.
Your huge hand gripped
My tiny wrist
Like a rope
In tug-of-war.
I was going one way,
You: the other.
And it could not be so.
Your palm
Branded my shoulder
Like the smack of two parting lips.
I cried and you held me,
This must be love: I thought.
I read it again.
I was so entranced by her words that I was hardly fazed when I bumped into someone. I mumbled a quick apology and continued walking and reading.
Bella stunned me. How fearless, how open, and how horrifying. Who did this to her? And why did she choose to share this with me? A tremor of fear ran through me because I knew that I couldn't mess this up with her. She'd given me a huge gift – access to her feelings – and it may be the only glimpse I get. I couldn't make things worse for her by shaming her, probing too much, or running away from her. I had to be careful with this.
I held the page delicately in my hand, like it was precious, which I guessed it was. I opened the door to my classroom. I laid it neatly on my desk and went to the whiteboard to distract myself. I knew that if I let my brain picture someone holding Bella hard by the arm… I wouldn't make it through first period.
As I was copying the poetry presentation list onto the board, my mind slipped, and I saw Bella in my mind as Ophelia:
"O, my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted!
My lord, as I was sewing in my closet,
Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbraced;
No hat upon his head; his stockings foul'd,
Ungarter'd, and down-gyved to his ankle;
Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other;
And with a look so piteous in purport
As if he had been loosed out of hell
To speak of horrors—he comes before me.
He took me by the wrist and held me hard;
Then goes he to the length of all his arm;
And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow,
He falls to such perusal of my face
As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so;
At last, a little shaking of mine arm
And thrice his head thus waving up and down,
He raised a sigh so piteous and profound
As it did seem to shatter all his bulk
And end his being: that done, he lets me go:
And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd,
He seem'd to find his way without his eyes;
For out o' doors he went without their helps,
And, to the last, bended their light on me."
The words played out in my head, a perfect memory from when I played Hamlet in college. I gripped the dry-erase marker until my knuckles turned white. The sound of Bella laughing broke my growing rage.
I couldn't help but smile knowing that she was happy. She was okay.
I went to my desk and grabbed a sticky note and took it to her desk. And just what do you think is so funny?
I went back to my copying. When I sensed Bella enter the room and pass behind me, I stiffened at her scent, but resisted looking at her. I didn't want to break so early in the day. And I had to pretend to be a normal person.
There was no way I could teach the lesson I'd planned in my state of mind, so I gave the class the period to work on their presentations. Bella gave me no hint at what she was giggling about with Angela, so while she was up getting her copy of Fine Frenzy, I stuck another note in her bag, wedged between the pages of her notebook. I needed to know.
I hunkered down at my desk and tired to ignore the growing curiosity about the chestnut-haired woman sitting not 20 feet away from me. As I read her poem for the third time that day, I couldn't help but be intrigued by the dichotomy of her. She was both hidden and exposed, both perfect and damaged, both happy and sad. She was hard to figure out.
When I looked back up at her, she was madly blushing crimson red and stifling a smile as she looked at her desk. She had read my note.
I got up and paced the room, and casually checked in with the students on their progress. It was a total guise to get close to Bella and see if she had written a response to my note, which had been: Going to answer my question? Perhaps we can discuss your case of the giggles during 6th?
She had.
Written on the palm of her hand was a simple yes. I huffed in response and went back to sit in my chair and contemplated just how deep I'd gotten myself in here.
The rest of the day passed in a blur in anticipation of Bella's arrival at my office. I rushed through the word battle in Drama Lit, and I kind of felt bad about it because I think I may have made Bella overly nervous. Perhaps that had been what caused her to miss the word. But I was looking forward to her cookies. I had to admit that much. I'd also hurried through the announcement of the spring play. I had been so excited to tell my students all about Midsummer, but the thought of Bella in my office eclipsed that. I was more excited about this girl than I was about my job. And I knew something was wrong with that, but I couldn't help it. She was so entrancing.
I had left my office door wide open in anticipation of our meeting. And when the doorway darkened, signal of her arrival, I wasn't able to quash my excitement. Again, seeing Bella with drops of rain in her hair, a light blush coloring her cheek, her hands knotted in front of her had me smiling and wishing I could launch myself across the room at her.
"Hi," she whispered. Her voice cracked slightly. I hated that I still made her nervous, that we still weren't normal around each other. But I also secretly enjoyed it; it meant that she was as excited about being around me as I was about her.
"Sit down, Bella." I wanted to sound welcoming, but it came out as demanding. So I placed my hand gently on the small over her back and took her bag off her shoulder. She reddened further at my touch, but didn't protest.
She sat down quietly as I dragged my chair out from behind my desk to sit next to her. I needed to show her that she was my equal. I couldn't sit behind my desk. I don't think I ever would with her.
She just bent her head towards her hands and kneaded one fist with the other.
"I read your poem, Bella," I broke the ice. "It was… it was stunning, Bella." I couldn't stop saying her name. "Thank you for sharing that with me."
"I brought more," she mumbled, and reached for her bag. My stomach lurched. More? I felt so lucky to be let in like this. Bella was always guarded. Hell, she was being guarded right now. But at the same time she was opening up. In her own way. On her own terms.
"They're not that good, but maybe you could help?" She handed me two crisp, white pages. I placed them on the desk and angled them so we could read together. "I wrote this one on the ride to school, in my head."
I read it in silence.
Love held me down as the bubbles rose -
Leaking air from my mouth and nose.
Love put the pillow to my face:
He strangled me with strands of lace.
Love raised the knife and cut my wrists -
Punched at me with swollen fists.
Love placed the poison in my cup.
He kicked me till I'd not get up.
Love beat me, battered me, stripped me bare,
Left me scraped with matted hair;
When I was weak and could not stand,
You reached for me; you held my hand.
I hoped she was talking about me, but I couldn't be sure, and I was too afraid to ask. With each phrase I read, Bella's history drew further into focus. As angered as I was that she had suffered so much, and at the hands of god knows who, I knew I couldn't handle hearing that the saving figure at the end wasn't me. Was it Jacob?
I wouldn't allow that thought to poison the closeness I was feeling with Bella, so I pushed the page to the edge of the table without saying anything and read the second one.
It's trite to write about love.
(Isn't it?)
When I asked my mom why all songs are about love,
She said,
It's a very important thing.
(I didn't believe her.)
Am I changing my mind?
Is he changing my heart?
Do I believe her now?
The word is short -
Gone almost as soon as it's said.
(But the feeling!)
It's the feeling that lingers on.
It hangs there,
Like the fumes from a stove,
Waiting to ignite.
Again, I couldn't help but hope that I was the he she wrote about.
I leaned back in my chair, stunned by Bella's forwardness, her willingness to share with me, and by the words themselves. I couldn't let the silence linger for too long. I could feel her anxiety growing, as if she were about to snap up her pages and storm off. She'd shown me herself, now I had to show her it was okay.
"Wow," I breathed. "Great work. And thank you for sharing it with me."
"Really?" she coughed, and snuck a peek at my expression.
"Yes, really. Your writing is strong. You have a good sense of self, especially for your age." I immediately regretted bringing up her age. I don't think of her as any younger than myself, though I know she is. I meant that most writers don't develop much of a voice until later in life. But I couldn't take it back now.
"Thanks. I think I sound a little like e.e. cummings, Especially in the last one."
"Yeah, I guess you do a little," I countered. I was glad she wasn't throwing a fit about me calling her young.
It got uncomfortably quiet in my small office and I wanted to touch her so badly, but I didn't. I guess I was waiting for a sign that it was okay. I needed everything to be on her terms. I couldn't push this girl.
So, instead of brushing the hair away from her face, and kissing her soft, pink lips, I caught her eyes with mine and earnestly asked her, "Are you okay?"
"How do you mean?" she slurred, and colored red again. She looked intoxicated by my gaze and I strained not to touch her.
"I mean, these poems. Do I need to worry?"
"I don't think so. Things are better here. Things are different."
"Okay, I'm glad to hear that. Do you want to talk about this?" I asked, and gestured to the papers on my desk. She furtively shook her head no. "Okay. But, Bella, if you ever do… if you ever need someone to talk to, please know that I would be more than happy to listen. Please." I was almost begging her to show me more of herself.
I wanted to know what complete asshole did this to her, how anyone could do such a thing. I wanted her to tell me that it was over, that she was better, that whoever hurt her wasn't hurting her anymore, but I couldn't read her eyes and I didn't know if she was lying to placate me or if she was really doing alright.
All day I'd been pretending that this woman didn't mean anything to me, that she was just a kid in my class. But she was not a child. She was Bella. Beautiful, brilliant, mature, and strong. I wanted to catch her in my arms and never let her go.
Instead, I just stared into her eyes.
"Edward, I promise. You'll be the first to know if I need anyone." She sighed and broke eye contact. "You're really the only person I have real conversations with." She grumbled the last part and looked ashamed.
"Well, I'm sorry that you haven't been able to speak more openly with other people, but I'm glad I can be here for you."
"I'm glad too." She licked her lips and her eyes slipped closed momentarily, like she was dreaming. Perhaps, had I been reading more into things, I would have taken this as an invitation, but I held back again. I needed a clear signal. At least while I was on school campus. And while she was this vulnerable.
She was so damned sexy and she had no clue.
"Uhm, Bella," I said sternly. I tried hard to focus and pretend I was the professional I claimed to be in my phone interview. "Listen, if you plan to keep writing like this, maybe we should set up an independent study. Meet a few times a week here to discuss your work? Get some credit for what you're doing?" I phrased everything like a question because I didn't want to push her too hard to spend another hour with me each day. We already spent three together on a regular day.
"Okay, I'll think about it." She said it like she meant yes. "I don't know how long this creative streak will last."
"Alright, well, I hope we can work something out," I said, but I wasn't really talking about independent study at all.
"Mhmm," she hummed, and slightly leaned into me.
The bell rang, like it always did right when I wanted to touch Bella most. But I guess it was for the best. I hadn't gotten my formal invite from her yet, and I might have really spoiled something good there.
Before I could think to say anything, she was shoving the papers toward me, thanking me for my time, shouldering her bag, and walking to the door.
"Bye," I choked out quietly as the door clicked shut.
"If we're going to keep doing this... I brought a toothbrush." Bella brandishes a blue toothbrush and plops it in the cup next to my sink.
She's slept over every night this week. Though each night we play it off like it's an accident that she fell asleep in my arms, that she had to come over at all, I've fast gotten used to the feeling of her in my arms all night.
In fact, I've started to rely on the 8pm text or email with an excuse for needing to see me. A homework question. A book suggestion. A new recipe she needs tasted.
I take her toothbrush in my bathroom as a sign she wants to stay for a while, not just for the night. The idea is so seductive, so enticing to me that I can hardly contain my excitement.
So I push her up against the counter, feel my hips press into her, and her ass push back toward my hardening dick.
I wrap my arms around her from behind, and they almost come all the way back around. She's so tiny in my arms.
Things are different between us when we're inside my house. She's bold, provocative, funny, talkative, and relaxed. She agreed to an independent study with me, but even there, at school, she's still stiff when we're alone together. I think she's hyperaware of rules and what others will think when we're on campus. But when she's alone with me in my house… God, she's so totally different. Just happy, open, and sweet.
"You are so beautiful, Bella. I'm glad you want to stay." I pull the hair away from her neck and begin kissing it tenderly, up toward her ear and back down toward her collarbone. When I look up I can see her heated expression looking back at me in the mirror.
She's panting and gripping the edge of the sink, a desperate look in her eyes. She licks her lips and her eyes slip closed. A low hum flows from her lips as she revels in the pleasure I'm giving her.
My hands roam her form as I kiss her neck, and I feel her stomach first, soft but firm beneath her shirt, and her breasts, her taut nipples pressing through her bra.
"I want you, Edward," she moans.
A tremor runs though me. Jesus. This is what I have been hoping for. And yet... it isn't.
I want her so badly, not just because she's beautiful, delicate, and here, in my house, wanting me, but also because she's smart, and funny, and wonderful.
But something inside me tells me it's right, not tonight. Things are moving too fast, if not for me than definitely for Bella.
I, for one, have slept with women the first day I've met them. I was fine with casual sex, and that was my scene up until… now.
But with Bella it's not casual, it can't be. I know Bella must be much less experienced than I am – by far – and I don't want to rush her into this. I want this to be special, especially if it might be her first time.
"I want you too, Bella. So badly," I groan. I hate myself for not just jumping blindly at the opportunity. I want to take her right here on my bathroom sink. I kiss her again on the neck, give her a little lick and squeeze her closer to me. I don't want her to feel rejected, because I'm not rejecting her. I just need… time. "But are we talking about making love here?"
I stop my kissing to roll my eyes at myself. Never in my life have I called that making love before. Sex, fucking, banging, yes, but saying making love makes me feel like a total sap.
Which I guess I am now.
She rolls her eyes back at me.
"Yes, Edward, sex," she says bluntly, but with a shake in her voice. I can tell it's taking everything in her to talk about this calmly. I can see she's trying to be serious about this but she's also nervous. It is like she wants to be mature and adult about the topic of sex but still doesn't know how to approach it.
"Wow, Bella." I whisper against her neck as I run my hands up and down her sides. I don't know which one of us I'm trying to soothe. "Bella, I can't do that." I want to be able to explain.
Her body jerks away from me. I can tell she's feeling the pain of rejection and I wonder if this is the first time someone has turned her down. I hold her firmly in place, because I need her to know that I want her too. I need her, I do; I just can't do this tonight.
"Why not, Edward? Why?" she asks, her eyes closed. I can tell I've hurt her, and I feel my heart constrict in my chest. This is not what I wanted. At all.
"Bella," I breathe and try to steady myself. "I don't just want to take you to bed. I want to give you more than just sex."
I know that before I can feel the inside of her, she has to feel the inside of me.
I need her to know how I feel about her. I can't just fuck her and walk away like I have with every other woman I know. I know that after I've slept with her, things won't be the same, things won't be able to go back to how they were.
Feeling Bella in that way would permanently change me. And I have no idea what it will do to her.
"You don't want to… that's…" she says, and shakes her head.
I turn her around and hold her against me. Her soft body molds to mine and I run my hands up and down her back.
"Believe me," I respond, and look into her eyes. "I want to. Just not tonight."
Review, please!
See you guys next Monday! (P.S. Sorry for the late posting. I was on the best flippin' first date of my entire life.)