Disclaimer: Twilight is not mine.
Chapter 26- Stranger
You call me a stranger
You say I'm a danger
But all these thoughts are leaving you tonight
I'm broke and abandoned
You are an angel
Making all my dreams come true tonight.
Stranger- Secondhand Serenade
Edward POV
I heard her squeal before I saw her.
Bella and I had been walking hand in hand through the school corridor, and as we pushed our way through the watching crowd, we heard a high-pitched shriek come from somewhere up ahead.
Then suddenly Bella was attacked by a small thing that at first appeared to be an over-sized porcupine on two legs.
It took me a few seconds to realise that it was actually Alice.
Bella looked shocked as Alice clung to her, a huge grin on her pixie-like features.
"Um, hi, Alice," Bella said uncertainly, giving me a What-The-Fuck look.
I had just shrugged in response when Alice attacked me next, throwing herself at me and wrapping her tiny little arms around mine so that I was forced to let go of Bella's hand.
Alice just kept squealing and grinning, and it was getting really fucking embarrassing. I resisted the urge to be rude and shove her off.
Finally I said, "Very nice to see you too, Small Person, but you seriously need to get the fuck off of me and stop that squealing because it's making my ears bleed."
Alice pulled away and looked up at me embarrassedly, grabbing both my arm and Bella's.
"I am so sorry," she said, still smiling. "I just knew it would happen one day. Not this soon, but I knew it!"
She squealed again and proceeded to throw herself at Bella once more.
Bella looked at me pleadingly, her eyes silently asking for help, and I took that as my cue to get the midget off of my girlfriend.
"All right, all right," I said, gripping Alice's skinny little arm. "We get that you're excited and shit, but I honestly don't appreciate you molesting my girlfriend like that."
Alice took a step back, clutching her hands behind her back like she was trying to restrain herself.
She started bouncing up and down on her feet. "You guys, this is so cool! I am so happy for you two!" She clapped her hands together like an excited child.
I rolled my eyes. "We're dating Alice. We're not engaged."
"Not yet!" Alice cried happily, and my eyes widened.
"Alice, relax," Bella pleaded, casting an anxious look around. "Really, I think you're overdoing it."
We got lucky when someone called Alice's name from across the corridor, and the midget left us with one last squeal and hug for Bella.
"Shit," I muttered as we headed towards Bella's locker. "I feel drained. It's like she sucked out all my fucking energy."
"Tell me about it."
Once we reached her locker, I leaned against the one next to it and took a deep breath.
I needed to tell her that I was going back home today, but I didn't know how she would react. I didn't want to kill her mood, but I knew that I couldn't live at the Swans' forever, despite how much I wanted to.
I unnecessarily cleared my throat, my stomach twisting with anxiety. "So . . . there's something I need to tell you."
Bella looked at me expectantly as she pulled books out of her locker. "I'm listening."
"I'm going back home today." I tried to say it without any emotion, but even I could hear the hint of regret in my voice.
Bella froze briefly, holding a book in mid-air that she had been transferring to her bag. Then she dropped her gaze and stuffed it in, nodding once. I hadn't missed the disappointment in her eyes, even though she had been trying to mask it.
She could control her face as much as she wanted, but her eyes could never lie to me.
"Bella," I said softly, my head resting sideways on the locker.
"Hmm?" she hummed, suddenly busy organising her books around.
"Look at me?"
She acted as though I hadn't spoken.
"Bella."
"Yeah."
"Why won't you say anything?"
She glanced at me swiftly. "I don't have anything to say."
"Nothing at all?"
"Nope."
I sighed. "I really don't want to go, but you know I can't crash at your house forever. And this is my last set of clean clothes."
"There's this thing called a washing machine, and luckily for you we happen to own one."
I chuckled humourlessly. "Yeah, I know that. But I really don't want to be recycling the same clothes over and over . . . and I need to see how my mum's doing. . ."
A part of me didn't give a fuck how my Mum was doing, but the other more rational part actually gave two shits. Even though sometimes I felt like she wasn't a mother any more than Carlisle was a father, I couldn't deny that I had a soft spot for her. I didn't know where it came from, but I knew that Rose had it, too. Her reasons were completely different, but each of us still had some bitterness when it came to the relationship with our mother.
"I understand," Bella said, shutting her locker.
The second her hands were free, I wrapped my arms around her waist and stared into her eyes, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "Do you really?"
She nodded, biting her lip, and I could see the sadness in them. I could see the silent plea for me not to leave her, for me to spend the night in her bed again.
I pressed my lips to her forehead just as the bell rang.
"I'll be around as much as I can," I mumbled against her skin. "But I can't spend nights."
Bella nodded again, and we headed off to class, getting used to the stares that would be gone in a short amount of time.
"We're alone," Bella mumbled.
"I noticed," I replied.
It was after school and we were in Bella's empty driveway. We sat on my bike; Bella's arms wrapped around me, and just stared at the empty gravel in front of us.
I felt Bella climb off and I did the same, pulling my helmet off and taking hers from her hands.
"I'll get the door open," Bella said, and I nodded in response, pushing my bike further into the driveway.
Bella went and fetched the key from its hiding place on the back porch, and I took her hand as we headed towards the front door.
When she unlocked the door and we stepped into the living room, I felt like I had come home. There was no other place I'd rather come back to after a long, tiresome day of school.
You know what they say, the home is where the heart is, or some shit like that. It was just amusing that what was supposed to be my actual home was nothing to me and Bella's house was everything.
Walking into the house with my hand in hers made it feel like we were coming home to our house, as if we owned the place.
I shut the door behind me and threw my backpack onto the couch, next to Bella's.
"So," Bella said, casually swinging our intertwined hands back and forth between us. "What do you want to do now?"
My mind immediately went dirty places and I tried not to smirk as I sighed, "Oh, the possibilities."
Bella blushed, though I didn't know why, and I kissed her knuckles, pulling her over to the couch and sitting her down on my lap.
She snuggled her face in my neck and I rested my chin on the top of her head, wrapping her in my arms like I was afraid she'd run away.
She held me like she was afraid of the same thing, and for a moment we sat there in silence, reveling the moment.
"What time does Emmett usually come back from work?" I asked. My voice felt too loud in the silence of the room.
Bella hummed contentedly before saying, "Around five."
"What about Rose?"
"Emmett usually picks her up from the school where she works, so I would say right around the same time. . ."
"Hmm. We have roughly two hours before they get back. What shall we do with our free time?"
"Let's throw a party," she suggested with a giggle. "Want me to call Alice?"
"Nah, we can manage on our own. We'll have a party with just you and me. Let's get the Pop-Tarts and 'range dressing' out, yeah?"
"Ranch. Ranch dressing."
"Same shit, really."
"I still need to introduce you to Twinkies."
"They sound very gay."
Bella playfully smacked at my chest. "I'll have you know, Twinkies are made of awesome."
"As awesome as Pop-Tarts?"
"No. Nothing is as awesome as Pop-Tarts. Twinkies are almost at the same level of awesomeness, but not quite. You'll see."
"I look forward to it," I said, smiling crookedly at her.
Bella stared at me, pure adoration in her eyes. I had never seen anyone look at me like that, and it made me feel all this fuzzy shit inside.
"What're you thinking?" I whispered.
"Just about how beautiful you are," she whispered back.
I snorted. "Uh, thanks. I guess."
Bella frowned. "You don't agree?"
I rolled my eyes. "Yes Bella, I think I am the most gorgeous man alive."
"Is that sarcasm I detect in your tone?"
"No."
"That is sarcasm, too."
"Yes."
"Really, Edward. . . you don't think you're attractive in the slightest?"
"Shouldn't you be glad I don't? If I did, I'd go around acting like some self-absorbed douchebag."
"Not necessarily. There's a difference between self-confidence and conceit."
"This coming from the girl who doesn't see herself clearly. Ironic, innit?"
Bella blushed. "I'm a different case."
"Shut up," I muttered, saying it calmly rather than rudely. "You're beautiful, and I don't want to hear anything opposed to that fact, because it isn't true."
Her blush deepened. "You don't think I'm plain?"
"If 'plain' means gorgeous and stunning and smart and funny and selfless and just fucking amazing, then yes. You are the plainest person I've ever met."
Bella's eyes visibly began to pool with tears and I caught one at the corner of her eye with my thumb.
"Don't cry," I murmured.
Bella sniffed and blinked back the waterworks. "I think that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me."
I smiled and leaned down, gently pressing my lips to hers.
She sighed as her hand travelled into my hair and she grabbed at my locks as my hand went to the back of her neck.
Her lips parted and my tongue was pushing against hers, both of our breathing noticeably increasing in pace.
Our lips molded together like there was no tomorrow. My head and body was filled with the taste of Bella, the intoxicating, all consuming taste of the girl that I was in love with.
Her grip on my hair got tighter and I couldn't suppress a moan at the sensation.
She hummed against my mouth and suddenly I was on my feet, cradling her in my arms.
Without removing my lips from hers, I walked towards the stairs, slowly and carefully so I didn't cause us both to fall on our asses.
I was only really half conscious of where I was going, letting my body do the thinking for me.
That wasn't always a good idea.
Bella pulled away, gasping for breath as I carried her up the stairs. We stared into each others' eyes, and I could see the excitement and eagerness in hers.
Once we made it safely to her bedroom, I kicked the door open and gently dropped her on the bed.
I hovered over her, my gaze into her eyes never wavering, and propped up on my elbows so that I wasn't crushing her with my weight. I started kissing her neck, my lips travelling from just below her earlobe to her collarbone, up and down, over and over.
She wrapped her arms around my neck and suddenly it was hot, much too hot.
Her lips found mine again and my whole body was buzzing, humming with heat and emotion and love so intense that my mind was turning into a fucked up fog. The blood was pumping through my veins, fast and hard, and my heart was trying to beat right out of my fucking chest.
Ever so slowly I lowered myself onto her, no longer trying to hide how much I wanted her.
Because it was true; I wanted her badly and I wanted her now.
Bella gasped and I pulled my mouth away from hers to see her wide eyes. Before I could decide what emotion I saw in them, she closed her eyelids, breathing heavily.
Her hands were in my hair again, eyes still closed, and she pulled my head down to hers so that my lips could wrap themselves around hers again.
The only sound in the room was that of our ragged breathing and the rustle of fabric as our clothes rubbed together.
Then, she moaned against my mouth.
She fucking moaned, and I lost it.
Everything was happening so fast; suddenly my hands found their way up her shirt while my lips assaulted her neck over and over. I could feel her pulse against my lips and I felt the odd desire to bite her. Instead I sucked on her skin, spastic shudders going through my body as I tasted her soft alabaster skin.
"Oh, God," Bella gasped, and I swear she was trying to kill me.
Somehow my own sweatshirt ended up on the floor, and the hem of Bella's was up to her chest, leaving her stomach in plain sight.
My lips were on her belly then, and I felt her shudder, her hands holding onto my hair for dear life.
Warm, warm, warm, everything was so fucking warm and I was losing myself as my lips dominated some part of her at all times and my hands went even farther up her shirt.
My fingers found her bra-clad breasts and I groaned against her mouth, my jeans getting too tight in the front.
"Stop," she whispered suddenly.
That one word was like a light bulb going off in my head, bringing me back to my senses. I lowered my hands so that they were resting on her hips.
I pulled away and looked down at her, the both of us panting.
Her eyes were still bright, but now they held a hint of fear.
"What is it?" I whispered frantically. "What's wrong, are you okay?"
Bella nodded, staring into my eyes. "Stop," she muttered again, blinking tiredly.
"I did," I said, my voice husky. Confusion was breaking through my foggy mind.
I decided to give her some space and rolled off of her, propping up on my elbow and lying on my side.
My dick was straining against my jeans at this point, and it was really fucking uncomfortable but I had to stop, because she asked me too.
"What happened?" I asked.
"Too fast," she whispered, closing her eyes. "Everything's going too fast."
At that moment I realised that she wasn't ready. Not for much, anyway.
It had been almost three months since all the shit happened with the Asshat, and you could say that she was almost healed from the trauma of it all, but she wasn't one hundred percent back to normal.
Maybe I was pushing her too fast, letting my own impatient self get in the way of what was best for her.
Then again, she hadn't been complaining. Ever since our first kiss, she'd been just as eager as me when it came to intimacy.
I wasn't surprised that she wasn't ready to go all the way.
But why hadn't I realised that until she told me to stop?
"Stupid," I muttered, rolling onto my back and covering my face with my hands. "I'm so fucking stupid."
I had been on top of her, I had shoved my tongue into her mouth, I had pulled my shirt off, I had assaulted her neck with my lips and sucked on her skin, I had slid my hands up her shirt and felt up her soft breasts. . .
It was me. I was doing everything, and she was just going along.
Not once did I think how it must be for her. Yeah, so her eyes showed eagerness and shit, but that didn't necessarily mean that she was ready.
I felt Bella's fingers trying to pry my own from my face. I resisted and my face covered, not wanting to see the disappointment written on her face.
"Edward," she said, pulling at my middle finger. "You're not stupid."
"Yes, I am," I said, my voice muffled by my hands. "So, so fucking dimwitted."
"Stop it," she said, sounding annoyed. "You're not. C'mon, let me see your face."
"No."
"Edward."
"What?"
"Come on."
"No."
"Edward!"
"What?"
"Please?"
Oh, fuck.
I sighed and dropped my hands, glancing at her to see that she was propped on an elbow and staring down at me with furrowed brows. Her hair cascaded down on one side, the ends of them tickling my bare chest. Her lips were in an adorable little pout that made me want to start kissing her all over again.
"Sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to push you."
"You weren't pushing me," she replied, running the back of a finger across my jaw line. "I was misleading you. I wasn't ready, yet I tried to pretend that I was."
"If I had been more careful-"
"It's not your fault, Edward. I tried to make you happy without thinking about how ready I was."
I reached up and touched her lower lip. "Promise me something?"
"Nothing crazy, right?"
I chuckled. "No. Not this time. Promise me you'll always think of yourself before me."
Bella grimaced. "Yikes. That is crazy."
I rolled me eyes before staring intently into hers. "Really, Bella. I'll always put you first. The only way to make me happy is by being happy yourself. Don't worry about trying to please me. You already do it without trying."
She looked skeptical. "Are you sure about that?"
"Positive."
"I agree to disagree." She pointedly glanced at my crotch and I lifted my head to see the boner that was so fucking obvious that it was embarrassing.
So. Fucking. Embarrassing.
I felt my neck grow hot and I fell back onto the pillow with my eyes closed. "Right. I'll have to take care of that later."
Bella didn't respond and I opened my eyes to see her blushing a deep pink, chewing on her lower lip.
"Sorry," she squeaked, burying her face in my chest embarrassedly.
I laughed and ran my fingers through her soft hair. "It's fine. I got carried away, and I'm really fucking sorry. I'm just glad you told me to stop. Who knows how far my impatient, horny self could have gone."
Bella looked up, her cheeks still pink. "Doesn't it . . . hurt?"
For the first time I was fully aware of the ache in my groin; talking to Bella had distracted me.
I groaned and threw an arm over my eyes, my mind completely focused on the aching discomfort of my dick.
"I'll take that as a yes," Bella sad sadly, and I removed my arm to see her frowning.
I reached out a finger and pushed at the corner of her lips up, trying my best to ignore how they parted just slightly under my touch.
"Cheer up," I mumbled.
"I wish there was something I could do to help," she said ruefully.
My eyes widened and I dropped my hand, bursting out in laughter.
Bella jumped at the loud sound of my guffaw, before furrowing her brows.
"What's so funny?" she pouted, wanting to be in on the joke.
I grinned at her confused expression, and waited for her to get the dirty joke that she had unintentionally made.
When she continued to look perplexed I said, "Bella, there are many ways in which you can help, but I don't know if you're ready for any of that either."
Her jaw dropped and she turned the darkest shade of pink yet, once again burying her face in my chest as I burst out into a fresh fit of laughter.
"I am so humiliated," she said into my skin.
"You? I'm the one with the obvious boner!"
Bella lifted her head to give me a devastated look. "But it's my fault."
I tried to look at her with a serious expression, and I succeeded except for the small quirk in my lips that indicated something that resembled a smirk.
"No, it's not," I said firmly. "It's all on me, baby."
Baby.
It came out so naturally, tumbling from my lips as easily as saying her name.
Bella smiled and leaned down to kiss my cheek. She hesitated, and then pressed her lips to my jaw.
"You have the most amazing jaw line, did you know that?" she said, pulling away.
I stared at her. "What?"
She ran a finger across my jaw line again and I playfully bit at her finger.
Bella laughed. "Really. It's so. . . chiseled. Like on a statue of some Greek god. I don't think I've seen anything like it."
"Huh. Very interesting observation, Miss Swan."
"I happen to be very observant, Mr. Cullen."
I winked at her. "Really, now? Seems like I still have a lot to learn about you."
Bella didn't respond. Instead, she looked away from me, frowning.
"Hey," I said, pulling her chin towards me. "What is it?"
She sighed and rested her head in her hand, still lying on her side and facing me.
"I've been thinking. . . " She trailed off anxiously, staring into my eyes with an emotion I couldn't put my finger on.
I felt a sliver of panic go through me at her words, though I wasn't sure why.
"What about?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even.
"There's another reason I asked you to stop," she said so softly that it was almost a whisper.
"Why? You can tell me."
"I just. . . I don't really know you, Edward."
My brows furrowed in confusion. "Sorry?"
Bella sighed, her cheeks turning a little pink. "I mean. . . I know we have a few things in common, and I know who you are as a person. But I don't really know you. I hate to say this, but it's like you're a stranger."
That last part hurt a little and she stared at me, her eyes imploring me to understand.
And I couldn't.
"What do you need to know in order to 'know' me?"
"All I know is that you grew up in London. I only ever met your mom once, and I know a little about your ex-girlfriend. But that's all, and it doesn't feel like enough. Here I am, making out with you in my bed, yet all I know is how wonderful you are, and that you saved me, and that you like The Beatles and Kings of Leon and classic horror novels."
"What more do you want to know? I'll tell you everything, I swear I will."
"I know that. I meant what I said about everything going so fast. It went too fast. There wasn't enough time for me to learn about you, and you about me. Do you even know my favorite color?"
My mind was blank. "Shit. I don't, actually."
Bella frowned. "See? And it's not just about the basics. You don't feel like a stranger, but I don't think, as my boyfriend, I know enough about you."
I sat up and rested my head back against the headboard. Bella sat up as well, sitting Indian style next to me.
"Let me get this straight," I said. "You don't think you know me enough to be comfortable with me?"
"No, that's not it. I am comfortable with you. I just think I would be more comfortable if you let me into your heart a little."
"You already are," I breathed.
Bella smiled. "That's not what I meant, but thank you."
I took a deep breath. "You want to know more about me?"
She nodded. "And you should know more about me, too."
Honestly, it scared me that she wanted to know more. I know she wasn't making it obvious, but I knew that she wanted to know about my past. I wasn't sure if I was ready to tell her everything, but I would tell her what she could.
I didn't want to be a stranger to her.
"We should work on that, then," I said, tucking her hair behind her ear.
Bella opened her mouth to respond, but we were interrupted:
"Bella? Edward? You guys here?" Emmett's voice rang out from the corridor outside.
Bella and I stared at each other with wide eyes for all but two seconds before we were both off the bed, scrambling around to hide any evidence of our actions.
Bella threw me my sweatshirt and proceeded to frantically run a brush through her hair while I yanked the sweatshirt on and adjusted my jeans so that my boner wasn't too fucking obvious.
Nothing seemed to be working.
"Fuck," I muttered frustratedly.
"I guess for once I can say I'm glad that my brother has impeccable timing with this sort of thing," Bella whispered as she flew out of the bedroom to greet Emmett.
I tried loosening my belt and twisting my waistband this way and that, but it just wasn't working.
I heard Bella and Emmett talking in the corridor and I sighed in defeat. I'd either have to shield myself with a pillow or just pray that Emmett didn't have the sudden urge to glance down at my dick.
I headed out to see Bella and Emmett outside Emmett's room.
His eyes flashed to mine and I nodded once. "How goes it?"
Emmett raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "It's all good."
Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down, I pleaded in my head.
Emmett's eyes lowered and my whole body tensed up.
"Why is your sweatshirt backwards?" he asked confusedly.
I glanced down and saw the hood of my sweatshirt hanging limply against my chest. Relief filled me at the same time utter annoyance did.
You motherfucking little shit, I swore at the blasted hoodie in my head. If it hadn't been there, the whole backwards thing wouldn't have been as noticeable.
"Didn't you hear?" I said, trying to sound casual. "It's the new style. It conveniently covers your face to keep it warm."
"That's stupid."
"I know, but we got to keep up with the latest trends, eh?"
I walked forward swiftly and kissed the back of Bella's head.
"I'm off," I said. "See you later."
Before either of them could say anything, I flew down the stairs, taking my hoodie off and putting it on the right way as I passed through the living room.
"Where are you going?" Rose's voice called from the kitchen.
"Home," I called back, grabbing my backpack and duffel, which was packed on the floor by the door.
I paused, not liking the sound of 'home'.
"The house," I corrected myself as I headed out the door.
As I walked to my bike, I felt guilty about leaving Bella to deal with her brother on her own. No doubt that he would ask a load of questions, but I seriously just needed to go take care of the boner that was annoying the shit out of me. I hoped that Bella would just brush him off or lie or do something other than tell him that things got a little too hot and heavy. And stiff.
But for once I could actually appreciate Emmett's tendency to interrupt. As long as he was around, Bella wouldn't do something she wasn't ready for.
Of course I couldn't wait until the day that she was emotionally prepared for sex. Hell, I'd be ecstatic.
I just knew that I had to be patient, I had to be careful, and I had to fucking wait. I'd never push her to do something she didn't want to, and I sure as fuck wasn't going to cheat on her just to get laid.
Sure it had been a while, but I wasn't going to pull a Jacob Black and hunt down Lauren Mallory just so I could get the sexual frustration out.
I wanted Bella, and only Bella.
I couldn't lie to myself though.
I hoped she would be ready soon. Very soon.
I stared up at the house that was supposed to be my home.
It stood, vast and cold, starkly pale against the green trees.
This wasn't my home; it was just a dwelling.
With a sigh, I pushed my bike all the way into the driveway and through the open garage doors.
I parked the bike with a heavy heart and picked up my duffel, which held my dirty clothes. Bella had insisted that she wash them for me, but I honestly didn't want her doing anything on my behalf.
I headed into the kitchen and saw that everything was back to normal; no more broken glass or furniture littered the shiny tiled floor.
It looked perfect and pristine as ever. You never would have thought that a drunken man had thrown a right fit just a few days before and broken anything fragile.
It was eerily quiet and for a moment I just stood in the empty kitchen, feeling the coldness of the house seep into me.
Mum tried so fucking hard to make the place look all cozy and welcoming, but it just wasn't working for me. All I felt at this house was emptiness.
The only place I ever felt comfortable and warm and safe and fucking welcomed was Bella's. There was no about that. There was so much fucking love in that house, and I had never experienced anything so amazing.
I made my way through the stoic kitchen and perfect parlour. I went up the barely stepped on stairs and glanced at my parents' bedroom door, which was closed.
Wasn't anyone home?
I approached my own bedroom door warily, turning the knob and pushing it open to reveal a bedroom that didn't look like mine.
It had been tidied up, clothes no longer on the floor, bed with the mattresses intact. The dresser that my father had thrown down was upright again, its drawers safe in their designated areas. The carpet looked freshly vacuumed and the computer chair was on its wheels again, facing the computer screen perfectly.
It didn't look like anyone lived in this room, really. At least when I was staying here, even though it had been messy, it still looked like someone's room. Now it just looked like the clean room of some emo kid featured in a home decorating catalogue.
I huffed and threw my backpack on my bed, zipping the duffel open and throwing the dirty clothes on the floor. It wouldn't be my room until it was fucked up the right way.
I had just pulled off my shoes and was about to go have a shower when I turned around and jumped at the sight of my mum standing in the doorway.
"Fuck," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "You're like a fucking ghost, popping up out of nowhere."
She stared at me wistfully and I saw that the cuts on her face weren't as visible as they had been a few days ago.
"I knew you'd come back," she said, her voice thick with emotion.
I shrugged emotionlessly "Missed my bed."
I saw the sadness in her eyes, probably at the fact that I hadn't said that I missed her, or wanted to see if she was okay.
"How're you doing?" I asked, only half caring.
"I'm lovely," she said smiling. "Would you like something to eat, poppet?"
Poppet.
She hadn't called me that in years.
I nodded slightly, a bit taken aback by the term of endearment. "Sure. I guess."
She smiled, her eyes glistening a bit, and headed off downstairs.
I stood there, sort of in a daze, and then shook my head and went into the bathroom, hoping that the water could wash away how shitty I suddenly felt.
Oh, and of course I had to take care of the hard-on.
Once I was out of the bathroom, feeling all clean and no longer sexually pissed off, I decided to text Bella.
Sorry for just running off like that... -E
It's okay. I know you had things to take care of. -B
Things like my thingamajiggy? ;) -E
No comment. -B
I knew she was blushing.
I wish I was there to see you blush. -E
I think you've seen me blush enough today, mister! -B
It can never get old. -E
*eye roll* - B
Emmett didn't give you a hard time, did he? Did he get all detective on you and shit? -E
Surprisingly, no. I think he's starting to back off a little. -B
I'm not sure I want him too... not yet, anyway. -E
Me neither. -B
By the way, I remembered what you said about everything going too fast. You want to take things a bit slower, yeah? -E
Yep. -B
Right. Then let's start over. Wanna go out with me? -E
Like, on a date? -B
No, I was thinking more like a fuckfest. -E
The moment I pressed the 'send' button, I regretted it.
Good job, Cullen, I told myself. The day she tells you she's not ready for sex, you ask her if she wants to have a fuckfest. Nice, very gentlemanly.
I was about to send out an apology, when she replied:
Rain check? -B
Holy motherfucking shit.
Excuse me while I readjust my jeans once more. -E
Oops. Sorry. Again. -B
No, but really, if you want to start this whole thing over and take things slow, that's fine. I need to take you out on a proper date. Are you free this Saturday? -E
Hmm, let me check my schedule... -B
I'm sure it's just overflowing with activities. -E
Oh yes. Hang on, give me a second. -B
She was such a fucking tease. I knew she didn't have a schedule; she just wanted to make me squirm. I could just picture her staring at her phone and giggling like mad over the fact that she was making me wait for nothing.
About two agonising minutes later, I received her reply:
Oh, look at that! You're lucky! It just so happens that I am free on Saturday between the hours of midnight to midnight on Sunday. -B
Ah, so you're free for 24 hours on Saturday, eh? -E
Precisely. -B
It's a date. -E
May I ask where you're taking me? -B
No. -E
Why? -B
It's a surprise. -E
I hate surprises. -B
Deal with it ;) -E
Honestly. . . I had no idea where the fuck I'd take her for a date.
Better think fast, genius.
When I left my room, I was suddenly face to face with Carlisle.
I had pulled my bedroom door open just as he opened his, right across the corridor from mine.
We stared at each other for a long moment, and I took in his appearance.
He was in a sharp suit, his hair slicked back professionally, so he must have been going off to work. He went into the office quite randomly, usually at his own leisure. Being in the position that he was, he could do whatever the fuck he wanted when it came to work.
But there was something different about his face. He looked cleaner, saner, and much more coherent.
I wracked my brain for the right word and the found it: sober.
He looked sober.
"You're back," Carlisle said robotically.
"You don't look shitfaced for once," I replied.
The corner of his mouth lifted for a moment. "Haven't had a drink since Thursday."
My eyebrows shot up, probably reaching my hairline.
"Bullshit," I said incredulously.
It wasn't possible. He had been drinking every single fucking day for as long as I could remember; it just wasn't possible that he'd stop cold turkey.
Carlisle nodded, his face grave. "Hard to believe, I know. But it's true. Thursday was the final straw. I had to get help."
I snorted. "Too fucking late, innit?"
"It's never too late."
"Right, whatever," I said, heading for the stairs. What he was telling me was just too fucking hard to believe, almost to the point that it was ridiculous.
"Son," his voice stopped me and I froze with one foot on the step and the other still on the landing.
Son.
Son? Poppet? My parents were trying to drive me mad.
I bristled and turned to glare at the man standing in his bedroom doorway, his eyes asking for any kind of forgiveness.
I wasn't the one he needed to ask forgiveness from.
"I'm not your son," I hissed.
I continued my descent down the stairs, resisting the urge to punch something.
My parents confused the fuck out of me.
And I wanted to know why.
"What happened after I left on Thursday? What kind of help is he getting? Where did he go? How the fuck did he get sober so fast? He's sneaking drinks, he has to be. There's no way he's gotten all normal in four days. That's as possible as me saying that I liked Jacob Black. Really, Mum, what the fuck is going on? How-"
"Please!" Mum cut me off exasperatedly, raising a hand to stop me from talking any more. "You'll choke."
I frowned down at the lasagna sitting in front of me.
I shoved another forkful into my mouth and said, "So are you going to answer the questions or not?"
Carlisle had just left for work and I was trying to get some answers. I wanted to know how the fuck it was so possible for my father to get sober in four days, and why the hell my mother was still sticking around after the shit that happened a few days previous. I wasn't going to lie, I kind of hoped that I came home to find that my father had left, or that my mother had gone and was now living somewhere else.
A bloke can dream.
Mum watched me, her brows furrowed in concentration. I could tell she was thinking things through, and I hoped she was thinking about how to answer my questions, because I seriously wasn't going to fuck off until she gave them too me.
After a while she sighed and closed her eyes, shaking her head.
"Mum?"
"Hmm?"
"It's really not fair. I know I'm not home often, and I know I'm not the best son in the world, but it's not fair that you're keeping secrets from me. There are things I want to know, things I have a right to know. I may not give a shit about him, but I still deserve to know why the fuck he is how he is. I deserve to know what happened after I left, even though I don't regret leaving. He's in my life for now, and I want to know everything."
Mum opened her eyes and looked at me sorrowfully. With a small sigh, she pulled over a stool and sat down opposite me.
"You're right," she said. "You do deserve to know everything, just because you're my son."
I was a bit surprised, thinking that she'd tell me nothing.
"So . . . you'll tell me what happened after Thursday?" I asked.
"I'll tell you our whole story."
"As in, how you two met and developed this fucked up little relationship?"
Mum glared at me before silently nodding.
I put the fork down on the plate and pushed the plate aside, resting my elbows on the counter before me with my head in my hand- the perfect image of an attentive young man.
"I'm listening," I said, staring at her intently.
"Good Lord, Edward, I can't speak with you staring at me like that."
"So close your eyes."
Mum took a deep breath and rubbed her temples before putting her elbows on the counter and forming a steeple with her hands. She rested the tip of her joined fingers to her forehead, almost like she was praying.
I waited as patiently as I could manage, trying not to cry, "Get on with it!"
Finally she sighed and set her hands down, folding them neatly in front of her like a small child just learning how to sit properly in a classroom.
"Right," she began softly, her voice sounding aged. "I can't talk about what happened a few days ago without telling you the whole story. Do you promise not to interrupt or get irrationally upset at my statements before hearing the explanations?"
"But interruptions and irrationality are my specialty."
"Restrain yourself this time, please."
"I'll try."
She went right into the story. "Carlisle had a difficult life. His mother died when he was just a child and for several years he lived with his father, who was quite abusive, in every way imaginable. There came a point where his father, your grandfather Richard, didn't want to deal with him anymore. He left your father in the care of your great grandparents. Following me so far?"
I nodded.
"Your great grandparents were rather elderly, unable to take care of Carlisle the way he needed. He was a victim of abuse, and they had no idea. Them not knowing this hurt your father mentally, and though he was bright and always has been, he was scarred for life. By the time he was seventeen years of age, he was on his own, going to school and just starting to add on to the education that would allow him to become the business mogul he is today.
"Now, we met when I was nineteen and he was twenty-two. My bedroom had a balcony that when you opened the French doors and stepped out, you'd be able to see the balcony of the home next door, right in front of you. That's how I first met your father. I had stepped out onto the balcony one morning, as was daily ritual. It was a warm day, and I stood in nothing but my nightgown, my head tilted up towards the sun. I hadn't noticed the blonde headed young man step out onto the balcony opposite mine until I started to smell cigarette smoke. When I opened my eyes and saw Carlisle standing there, watching me while smoking a cigarette, I nearly had a heart attack! But I became bewitched by those blue eyes, and from then on I did whatever I could to break out of my parents' grip.
"My parents were strict, controlling people. Every aspect of my life was moderated by them, and I didn't have many friends. My home was a cold place, one in which my mother and father obsessed over image and society and reputation and wealth. I hated everything about it, and I wished for another life."
She sighed, her eyes far away. "Oh Edward, I was a dreamer. I immersed myself in romance novels borrowed from the maid, hiding them under my mattress so my mother wouldn't find them. No doubt, she'd disapprove. I wanted a storybook romance, with a winter wonderland wedding, comfy little house, and smiling little children. When I met Carlisle, I felt like I found all that I wanted.
"I was mistaken to think that he lived in the house next door. He was just the friend of the son of the man that lived next to us, a businessman. He was not wealthy; he was not of the same social status. I knew my mother and father would disapprove strongly, because Carlisle didn't have the kind of money he did. He wasn't very well known in society, so there was no way that we would be able to have a normal relationship, a normal family."
Mum frowned and closed her eyes. "We were madly in love. By the time I was twenty I was willing to do whatever I could to stay with him. We were living in Harrogate at the time, and we made plans to run off to London and elope. It wasn't easy, and it was hard for me to just abandon the lifestyle I knew for one that was alien to me, but what drove me was the feeling that I was getting what I read about in the novels- that undying love, charming man. But most of all was the idea of forbidden love.
"Forbidden love was one of the most exciting things to read about, those couples that were passionate about each other but were pulled apart by one thing or another. Your father and I were in a Romeo and Juliet situation, although he had no family to show for it. Still, all I could think about was this fairytale romance that I could have, even if I was already living like somewhat of a princess. My family was very, very wealthy but there was a lack of love. All I wanted was Prince Charming, and I found that in Carlisle.
"I didn't care about money as much as the rest of society did. I didn't want a mansion and maids and butlers and drivers. I wanted the cozy little homes that I read about, where the mother would decorate it to her liking and make it feel welcoming. Of course I wasn't allowed to touch a thing in my home, not even my own bedroom. But when Carlisle and I ran off to London, I was that much closer to my dream. We started out living in a dodgy kind of flat, but only until your father finished school. I myself had been homeschooled my whole life, but I honestly wasn't too worried about education. I just wanted my own home to do with what I pleased, and a man to call my husband. So far I had gotten half of that."
She took a deep breath, and I could tell the story was about to take a not-so-happy turn. "Carlisle was a vigorous student. He focused entirely on his own education, just so that we could get wealthier. Now, he didn't want to become as wealthy as my family had been but he wanted to make enough so that I could have a cozy little home to love. I was pregnant with Rosalie when we graduated to a larger flat and by the time she was three we got our first home.
"There was a change in Carlisle over the years, and I noticed that his shift in demeanour occurred mostly when he wasn't studying. It was as though the man was afraid of having free time. He'd go to work, come home, eat or have a drink, and then we'd head off to bed. It was the same routine, day in and day out. He didn't spend much time with his daughter, and our marriage started to . . . fall apart."
Mum sighed. "I didn't know when the drinking started. It was definitely after you were born, not that that was the reason! Of course not. He had told me about the abuse he went through, but he refused to get help, insisting he was fine. He was at the point in his career where he worked less, because he was head of the company. He didn't work as much as he managed others, and before he knew it he had the power to do whatever he wanted. Working less meant having more free time, and having more free time meant more time to think, to remember the thoughts that he so badly wanted to forget. Of course, all of that remembering led to the drinking, because alcohol is the best friend of someone that wants to lose the memory of something painful. The drinking became really horrid year by year, month by month, week by week, day by day. . . I'm sure you remember some of the fits he used to throw, since you were a child when they started."
I nodded grimly and she continued with another deep breath, her face becoming remorseful. "Despite everything, I still loved him. I was afraid not to. I didn't even realise what he was doing with Rosalie until it was too late, until I had lost my daughter in her teen years, when she refused to stay home for too long. I knew something was wrong with her, and one day, she finally confessed. She told me everything.
"I was furious. You won't remember because you weren't home that day. You were probably worrying me to death by being God-knows-where doing Lord-knows-what. Anyway, when Carlisle came home, I went berserk. Rosalie was there and saw everything, and never had I seen someone look at me with such fear. It's true, I was a madwoman. But he had harmed my daughter. I didn't care if he was the King, he had laid his hands on my daughter.
"I told him I was leaving him. I told him I was taking you and taking Rosie, and going somewhere else where he couldn't hurt anybody. I told him I loathed him, that he was disgusting and that I would be pressing charges."
Mum's eyes started to get watery and she blinked back tears. "I broke him. I broke that man. He got on his knees and he begged, he pleaded with tears running down his face for me not to leave him. He got on his knees in front of our daughter and begged forgiveness, begged me to take him back. He said he couldn't live without me, that he'd get help and that if I left him he'd kill himself."
She looked me right in the eyes with her own glistening green ones, "I couldn't do it, Edward. To see him on his knees in front of us, begging . . . it was too much. Was I still angry with him? Of course, more than you can imagine. I could see it in his face, the guilt, the pain, the remorse. I could see it in his tears, in the way that he sobbed on the kitchen floor. He was sorry, he really was.
"Rosalie would not, could not forgive him. She could move on and avoid him, but she couldn't forgive him for what he'd done. She severed all ties with him at a young age, and it killed him. The day after I threatened to leave him, he went to find help. I meant what I said about the abuse stopping. It wasn't just because Rosalie had finally gotten a lock on her door, but the man never even tried it again, not since you caught him at it. He was ashamed, and he couldn't even forgive himself. He dealt with his own pain by inflicting it on others, and once the long weeks of psychiatric help for that was over, it was back to the Vodka bottle.
"The drinking was another issue completely. Now it wasn't just for him to forget the pain, it was to forget his shame. He may have stopped his revolting tendencies from occurring, but the human brain tends to remember what we want to forget the most. I asked him to get help for it, but he said he needed the alcohol just like he needed oxygen. It was like his painkiller, it numbed him from the agonising memories.
"To see your hostility towards him these past few years has been difficult, considering that you do not know the whole story. I'm hoping that after I am done, you will see your father in a different light. He really is not a horrible person-"
I opened my mouth to protest and say that fucking sexual abuse did make you a horrible person, but she raised her palm, signaling for me to stop.
"Now, hear me out. I know he's done awful things, and I cannot forgive him myself. We were the three involved, and we have moved passed it. I am not making excuses for what he did, but it is enough for him to still be punishing himself, all these years later, to this day. I understand that you may never be able to have a relationship with your father, and it hurts me.
"However, you have to understand that I am all he has left. The man is wasting away and I am the only one still at it side. Both of his children despise him, and with good reason, but if I leave, it will tear me apart. He has only just been getting better the last few days. When he woke up and saw the damage he'd done, to me and the house, he knew enough was enough, even though he had crossed several lines in the past with his drinking.
"It was the cuts on my face that finally did him in. His drunken rages had never hurt me physically before. You may hate me for it, but I will always stick by him. It's not because I still want that fairytale romance- that is not possible and I gave up on that dream ages ago. I will always stick by him because he needs me. Desperately."
Mum stared into my eyes, her matching green orbs pleading with me to understand. She stood up and walked over to the sink, pulling down a glass from a cabinet and pouring herself a glass of water from the sink.
I sat there, mulling things over. I had so much to think about, from their elopement, to the abuse, to the begging and the drinking . . . it was a hell of a lot to take in. My mind felt about ready to explode from information, and I tried to figure out how I felt about everything my mother just revealed to me.
I didn't know if I necessarily saw Carlisle under a different light. Every time I look at him I saw a sick old bastard, and I wasn't sure if I always would. After everything she had told me, I couldn't doubt that my hate for my father had lessened just a bit. My Mum painted him under a light that made him look like the victim, but I didn't know if I agreed with that. Rosalie was the victim. She would never get her childhood back. We had never had a father, and that was something that we couldn't change.
A lot of things made sense now. I realised that my mother was still with Carlisle because he needed her to heal. I realised that Rose still had a relationship with her because my mother hadn't ignored the abuse. I was pretty shocked to find out that my mother actually told my father that she was leaving him once she found out about what he was doing. I was even more shocked that she stuck around, and all it took was for him to get on his knees.
If I were her, even if he was on his knees on burning coals I wouldn't take him back.
But what irritated me the most was why she hadn't told me any of this before. Where the fuck was I when he was on his knees in front of my mother and sister? If I had seen that, maybe I wouldn't have hated him so much all these years.
It's not easy to stop hating someone when it's all you've been doing for more than half your life. I didn't know if it was possible, but I couldn't be arsed to actually talk to Carlisle about it.
He couldn't take back what he did, and there was absolutely no excuse for it. The fact that he was abused should have stopped him from doing the same to his own child. Apparently his proud self didn't even want to bother getting help for that shit. If only he had reached out to someone, maybe things would be different now.
Maybe I would have a father.
Mum set the glass down on the counter and stood, staring at me.
My mind was still a whirring mess as I glanced up at her. Her gaze was speculative.
"It's a lot to think about, I know," she said.
"Why didn't you tell me any of this before?" I asked quietly.
She smiled sadly. "You never asked."
I cocked and eyebrow in disbelief. "You needed me to ask you about your fucking love story for you to tell me why the fuck my father is shit in the head?"
Mum's smile fell and she sat back down on the stool. "It's more than that, darling. This isn't something I like to talk about, do you see that? I waited until you weren't so young before I told you any of this. . ." She trailed off sadly, staring at the counter in front of her.
"I'm sorry," she said after a moment, looking up at me. "You're right; I should have told you sooner. I guess by not telling you, I made this harder for all of us."
Fuck yeah, she did.
"How do you feel about everything I just told you? I'm not asking you to forgive anyone. All I'm asking is that you understand."
I nodded. "I get it."
Mum smiled then and stood up, walking around the counter and giving me a hug. I hugged her back, savouring how motherly she smelled. She always smelled like she had just baked something, even though she didn't bake often.
"I'm sorry I waited so long, poppet," she said, kissing my forehead. "You should have known a long time ago."
"Don't worry about," I said, pulling away and getting to my feet.
I ran a hand through my hair, feeling knackered. "I'm gonna go lie down. I just . . . need to think about things."
Mum nodded, smiling a little. "I'll be here if you need me."
Once I was up in my room, I collapsed on my bed and ran my hands over my face tiredly. So much shit to absorb in such a short amount of time.
I hadn't decided if I still hated my father. Honestly, I still did a little and I didn't know what to do about it. Maybe it would fade over time, but I honestly didn't know.
Why did it take me so long to know about my parents?
Laying there on my bed, staring up at the black ceiling, I started to wonder what else they had been keeping from me.
What else was everyone keeping from me?
Suddenly it felt like everyone I knew was a stranger.
A/N: Controversial, I know. Thoughts?