Disclaimer: Twilight is Stephanie Meyer's. This spin on it is from my own crazy brain.
-:-
Another week came and went like the rushing of fall breeze, which gusted through town with its chilly breath and rich, woodsy scents. Amber and yellow leaves continued to fall and covered the streets respectively—an intermittent reminder that winter was approaching. Inside, things remained warm and surprisingly stable.
Edward and I had developed a comfortable routine—something that was good for him, seeing as he'd been living in a state of near constant strain. We still slept separately, but when we were awake, we were together, finding small things to occupy our time; if we weren't eating or walking through town, or listening to music in his car, we were reading in bed. Sure, it sounded old couple-ish, but the presence of books and blankets always led to on-top-of-the-covers make-out sessions, and touching and teasing… but never more. We always held back from taking a step further—from taking off our clothes, primarily—and our avid breath would slow and our skin would cool, and things would just go back to normal—because normal was what he needed.
It helped, for the most part. Things weren't perfect, but they were promising, and we continued to slip deeper into each others' hearts and minds, finding an ideal fit.
We were going slow, but I couldn't complain. I still had the liberty to touch him without hesitation, and I loved being able to wrap my arms around his neck and snuggle into his shoulder or pull him into a kiss simply because I wanted to. I had him and he had me, and that was all I could ask for.
"I'm boring you to death, aren't I?"
At the sound of Edward's voice, I shifted my position and stretched my head away from the warmth of his chest. His curious eyes met mine and I gave him a pointed stare. Presently, we were lying outside on the back hill, having effortless, intimate time with each other, bound by each others limbs and completely tangled together—a knot I never wanted to undo.
Our cuddling was wanted, of course, but sort of necessary, as the temperature had dropped to the high forties and we had to warm up somehow. Now, wrapped in his coat and his arms, with my knee resting on his thigh and my stomach pressed against his, I was hardly bored.
"If I was going to die right now, it wouldn't be from boredom," I told him, leaving out the part where the cause would be bliss-by-bumping-lower-bodies.
"So, my breath, then?" he asked, kissing underneath my chin.
I rolled my eyes and closed them at the pleasurable sensation he was providing, only to pull away and clasp his face, plumping his cheeks. "Your breath is fine. And you know, the less sleep you get, the more self-deprecating you are," I said. "Take another nap."
He'd just woken up after twenty-minutes of using me as his pillow. Instead of agreeing, he slid his hands up my sleeves, squeezing my arms and pulling me back down beside him. "It's too cold. And you stole my coat, so…"
My mouth fell open, but he silenced me with his lips before I had a chance to start protesting. He was the one who had zipped me into his coat, seeing as how I refused to wear my bulky, outdated parka I'd brought along; Floridians rarely had access to good winter wear. And since I'd finally thrown away my good hoodie—the one on which Jessica had put her slimy hands—I was left wearing sweaters and sweatshirts to shield me from the cold. It hadn't been good enough for Edward so he decided to share, and now he was the one sans jacket. I'd put up a good fight, but he won in the end after finding out that I was ticklish on my lower hips.
"I'm not tired," he assured me after our mouths parted, and moved to rest his head on the cushy grass. It wasn't true, as I could see it in his eyes and the slight shadows that gathered underneath.
Honestly, I was surprised that he had gone almost a full week without any kind of nightmare or restlessness during the night—not until early this morning, when I'd woken to the sound of agonized sobbing and bolted next door. He'd rebuffed my questions, merely allowing me to climb into his bed and sit with him. For whatever reason, he wouldn't let me touch, hug, or get close to him at all—not until he had settled down on his own. He sat, shaking against the headboard and clutching his blankets, and only after a few minutes were up, did he slowly reach for my hand. When I finally coaxed him to look at me, he'd fallen into my arms and broken down all over again, whispering strained apologies and breaking my heart.
I ran my hand over his shirt, watching him yawn, and picked a stray piece of grass off his shoulder. "Still don't want to talk about it?"
Edward shook his head and toyed with a tuft of my hair to distract me. He knew I loved when he did that. "There's nothing to say. It passed. Hey—stop biting my favorite thing to kiss."
I untucked my bottom lip from the edges of my teeth with a faint grumble.
"I get it," I said. "You had a good week. You don't want to dive into dark and dreary conversation, right? But now I'm scared of saying something I shouldn't, something that could trigger a memory you don't want to remember."
"You won't."
I rolled onto my stomach and propped myself up with my elbows. "Is this one more clairvoyant assurance, John Edward?" I teased, and he cracked a smile. Another thing that had become overly clear in our time together was that he seemed to get the hang of reading my mind. "Maybe if you tell me, you'll feel better."
I frowned as I watched him turn his eyes to the overcast sky. "You'll wish you never asked."
"Even so, you shouldn't feel forced into keeping it to yourself," I tried again. "I don't want it to eat away at you."
He shook his head again. "If we talk about my nightmares, then they'll become yours, trust me. I won't do that to you."
I sighed, knowing it was no use. If I'd learned anything over the past week, Edward wasn't one to be pushed. I leaned over and kissed his cheek with a quiet, "Whatever you say," and began to braid a few blades of grass. I could feel him watching me, so I stuck out my tongue without looking at him and smiled when I heard him chuckle softly.
About a minute passed before he abruptly said, "Okay, fine," and pushed himself up to my level, still lying on his side. He took a deep breath and did a sexy swooping-back-the-hair move, the kind that would cause accidents if he ever performed it near traffic. "Are you sure you want to hear this?"
I let go of the lawn, glancing at him in surprise. "Yeah, uh," I said, stumbling over my words and scooting myself closer. "Are you sure?"
Edward nodded and cleared his throat. "All right. Here goes."
Equal parts of anticipation and dread rose in my chest, and the breath inside it suddenly felt like smoke. His dreams were never easy to hear, and so far, I'd only heard the recurring ones. I wasn't sure what kind of horrors he was about to recount now.
"Well," he started, frowning a bit. "See, there was this Care Bear."
Um. What?
"It was hot pink and glittery and kept asking me for hugs."
"Oh my God," I said, falling onto my back and rolling my eyes.
"And it smiledwith all of these sparkly teeth. I was terrified," he continued, completely straight-faced. "Nothing should be that happy."
I scoffed a laugh. "You're such an ass."
"Hey," he said in mock anger, reaching over and pulling me on top of him. "You laugh, but that thing was an overbearing bastard, okay? It wanted to hold my hand and sing Somewhere Over the Rainbow. Now, I'm not saying it was as scary as a firepony—"
"Oh, shut up," I giggled, folding my legs under his and ducking my chin, stealing the smirk off of his lips with mine.
I was grateful for the hill's privacy—its slope and security were a perfect combination for moments like these. Other than the fourth floor, there weren't many places we could go to be by ourselves. We'd been modest in the company of others, keeping our affection to no more than our hands linked together or his arm around my back, and it was artless and gratifying. But when we were alone, I couldn't pretend that it wasn't difficult to not let otherbody parts get involved, too.
Even though the comfort of his arms and warm, sparking touch of his mouth on mine were remarkable, I always wanted more. I wanted to pour myself into him and feel his response, feel the press of his body and drive him to the state that he always brought me to—the hot, maddening arousal that made my toes curl. It really had been hell to tear myself away from him at night and retreat to my empty bed, tangling myself in cool sheets instead of his legs, and only hear the whisper of my own breath as I fell asleep.
But until he said the word, I was going to have to keep my eager panting and wandering hands to myself. Or on myself.
"Cold? Want to go back inside?" I asked him as I felt him shiver beneath me.
"Mm, no," he responded, his eyes closed and mouth set in a lusty pout. "I can't take the inquiries."
The lobby was incredibly busy, as the lodge was holding some kind of anniversary party for a pair of Forks' finest senior citizens. The sofas were occupied and the Entertainment Hall was full of elderly people who were either dancing the Funky Chicken or asking when Edward and I were going to 'get hitched.'
I laughed. "Can you imagine if it was February and Valentine's Day was right around the corner? Imagine the meddling then."
Edward chuckled. "Doris would probably put us on display."
"She'd put you on display," I corrected. "You know those love auctions where girls bid on overly-muscular man-meat?"
"Maybe we should get you one of those," he said, his eyes still shut, giving the appearance of a sleeping angel. "They could keep you company on days like today, when all I can do is fall asleep on you."
I paused, placing my palms on the grass and lifting myself above him. "You're right. Maybe I should go hit up Jacob."
He opened his eyes and cocked an eyebrow. "Jacob, huh? After to-be-married men, are you?"
"He's got friends," I joked, snuggling into his chest and feeling his heart thump against my ear. He encircled his arms around me and sighed deeply, causing my head to rise and fall with his breath. I felt so comfortable in his embrace and could have stayed on the hill until nightfall if it wasn't for the cold. "And for the last time, you're not boring me. It's just the weather. We're losing the sun."
"Maybe we should pack up and sail to Hawaii," he mused. "Given our current skin pigment, I think we both could use—"
Out of nowhere, a ringing peal sounded. It was Edward's phone, chiming from his pocket. I kept still, frozen, my fingers involuntarily curling into his shirt. All joking and smiles aside, this was a sound that warranted worry. His phone had remained silent since he had gotten back and I hadn't forgotten the last time he had an incoming call—the one that caused a shit storm and ruined everything.
The ringing continued. I quietly asked, "Are you going to get it?"
I felt one of his arms unwind from my back and reach next to my leg for his pocket, and with a seemingly 'Please-God-let-it-be-a-telemarketer' expression, he glanced at the small screen.
"Ben," he breathed before accepting the call. "Hey, man. What's going on?"
All of my muscles turned to Jell-o, relaxing in relief. I rolled off of him so he could talk without my weight on his lungs and rested beside him, listening to him speak and disciplining my fingers to stop wanting to slide underneath his shirt.
"Hold on, I'll ask her."
Oops. There I went again—fantasizing and not listening. You hill whore. I tilted my head upward, curious.
"There's some kind of fair going on in town later," Edward said. "Do you want to check it out with Ben and Angela?"
"Yeah, sounds fun," I replied with a smile. We were due for some group bonding.
Edward continued his conversation and I traced my finger along his collar, up to his jaw and under his neck, and snickered as he squirmed, ticklish. I settled my hand above the crest of his jeans, thinking that if I didn't go further than the belt, I was still treading on solid ground. There would be no accidental mind-orgasms on my part—not as long as my fingers didn't slide under his shirt and make contact with the warm, solid slats of ab muscle. I wondered what he might do if I tried, anyway.
"Bella?"
Edward cleared his throat. I looked up again, snapping out of my libidinous mind game. I needed to stop. "Hmm?"
"Angela's about to drive to Port Angeles to go shopping," Edward relayed. "She's only right down the street. Do you want to go with her? Ben and I might go shoot some pool, grab a beer…" He was adorable with his hopeful eyes and raised brows, as if 'guy time' sounded like Disneyworld.
"Sure, tell her I'll be in the parking lot in a few minutes," I answered.
"Can you tell her Bella will meet her in the lot out front?" Edward spoke into his phone, and for some reason, I couldn't look away from his mouth. Watching his lips move and pout against each other was such a tease. And I was just plain crazy for getting turned on by talking, of all things.
I buried my face in his side, inhaling the scent of fresh grass and familiar vanilla as I ran my hand up and down his shirt, from his collar to his belt, loving the feel of everything heated and firm underneath. When he finally ended his call, I glanced up, my arm stretching across his waist, and said, "So, where are you and Ben—" I stopped, creasing my eyebrows. "Why is your face all red?"
His cheeks—even the tips of his ears—had turned completely pink. Not that I minded; I loved the look of him all flushed and serious, with his eyes glowing. I was super curious, though.
"Why is your face red?" he countered, swallowing.
I hadn't noticed. "I—I don't know. Because yours is, I guess? What happened?"
"You and your hands happened," he said, exhaling slowly. "You're sitting there, touching me and looking as though—just—Jesus, Bella."
I wrinkled my nose at him. "Well, sor-ree," I said childishly. "I just like touching you."
He swiftly climbed on top of me, kneeling over my right thigh, lips inches away from mine. "I'm not asking for an apology," he murmured, his hair rippling from the wind.
Whoa.
I'd never seen him look so intense before—not this way, not with passion-driven eyes and a ready-to-pounce stance. "What are you asking for?"
He slid his hand under my jaw, cupping my cheek, and his breath was so warm and overcame the sound of the trees, the leaves, the air. He was all I could hear. "More."
There it was.
Green light.
My heart started to pound, beating adrenaline and lust in fruitful blasts, and suddenly my hands grew a mind of their own. Before he could speak another word, I grabbed his waist and pulled him all the way down, heavy upon me. Our bodies folded together as my mouth caught his breath of surprise.
I wrapped my legs around his again, curving my hips against him, wanting to feel everything. The sudden feeling of warmth between my legs made me crave to know if hewas turned on, too, but his coat was big, too far down and too thick to feel anything through it. I pushed him up and quickly shook myself out of it, pulling him down as he pressed himself against me in the most wonderful way. We were breathy, eager, and appetent like a full-bodied frenzy.
His hands were teasing as they moved, grazing my chest and hitching my leg around him. Seconds spilled over to a minute, and as he effortlessly flipped me on top to straddle him (as I thought of shedding every bit of clothing, unconcerned about the show we might give any of the guests who ventured outside), the sudden scrape of tires against gravel made us slowly come to a halt. A car was here. Whether or not it was Angela's was unknown, at least from our hill-obstructed view.
He lifted his head to the sweep of my shoulder, kissing me lightly along my neck. "God—I don't want to stop."
"We don't have to," I answered quietly, letting my hands travel down his chest. "I can blow off shopping."
He laughed, and as if on cue, my cell phone started buzzing inside my purse a foot away. I groaned a bit and reached, plucking out my taped-up phone and opening it, revealing a text message from Angela.
I'm outside! Ready?
I gazed at Edward, my expression surely fluctuating from greedy to unsure. "We could meet them later," I whispered, as if Angela might be able to hear me. Edward's eyes narrowed and I reconsidered, blurting out, "Or maybe we should go. I mean, I should go. Shouldn't I?"
My body was pleading and aching to satisfy a craving that had been on my mind for solong, but we'd just agreed to other plans with friends—friends we hadn't seen in almost a week. We'd met them for dinner five days ago, and even though Edward's and my time at the lodge was valued, we were both getting cabin fever.
"You should go," Edward said hoarsely, looking somewhat torn. "No, you're right, we should go. We can—just—"
I could tell 'Continue this later' was on his lips, and we both sighed. Even if we rushed upstairs, the moment wouldn't have the same intensity. Leaning down, I kissed him once more, slower and softer, and placed my burning cheek against his.
"I guess I'll see you later?" I asked, not ready to unwind myself from his arms.
"Mm-hmm," he hummed, lightly sucking on the space under my earlobe, making blissful, little chills cool the burn in my blood.
"I should walk up," I said, fighting the urge to text Angela and tell her I was sick and would be skipping the shopping, the fair, the evening—just to go back to the sweet, supple feeling of putting my hands and lips in places that should only be reserved for a bedroom.
"Go ahead," he said, his voice rumbling against my throat before he kissed it. "I'm going to stay here for awhile."
I hummed longingly, taking a moment to squeeze his body to mine for a few moments more before I released him, and sluggishly pushed myself up. He held on, his hands tight and unwilling to let me go easily.
"Here," I said, covering him with the coat I'd tossed to the side. He started to tell me I could take it with me, but I said, "Shush. I'm going shopping, aren't I? I need a new hoodie, anyway. Preferably one that doesn't read that I'm your little hooker."
He smiled, pulling his arms into the thick sleeves of the coat and lazily curling onto his side. "I suppose that would be better than parading it around town. And I'd prefer to have that secret stay between us."
I shook my head, amused. "Right, I forgot about your induction into the Pimp Hall of Fame. I'll have to buy you a purple suit."
"Maybe you can even get a jacket so I can stop putting you in mine," he teased.
"Okay," I answered, laughing and getting to my feet. "But don't lie. You love it when I steal your clothes."
He grinned and I waved goodbye. As I headed toward the parking lot, I could only think how much I was the one who loved stealing his clothes. It was one step closer to him being naked, after all.
-:-
"Bella, get out of there."
"I'm just trying to find—there might be a black one—"
"Nope," said Angela, pulling the back of my shirt and herding me away from a rack of sweatshirts.
I couldn't complain—it had been fun to shop around with Angela. During the day, we browsed eclectic music shops, sipped caramel lattes and talked about the boys, and rummaged through stacks of antiquated books.
However, the clothing store we were browsing had a limited 'comfort' section. Everything was fancy. There were designer labels at every corner. I'd been fishing through the racks containing hoodies and lounge pants, and still there werebig, flashy, silver and gold emblems and charms sewed onto the garments. I couldn't understand who the hell would want to look ornamental for an occasion that necessitated sitting on their ass.
Of course, as soon as Angela had spotted me hiding among the 'Fabric of our Lives' section, she began pushing me toward the dressier clothes.
"Come on, you have to get something other than a hoodie," she said, stopping in front of a display of dresses. "Seriously, if you're going to snag yourself a hot night with Edward later, you'll want something that can't be recreated by Fruit of the Loom."
Angela had been in a playful mood all afternoon, grinning and chatting happily, and with all the frisky teasing coming from her, I figured that she and Ben had probably taken a recent climb up Mount Multiple-O.
"Are you serious?" I said, scoffing a laugh. "It's forty-eight degrees out. I'm not wearing a dress to a carnival."
"It's the Forks' Annual Harvest Festival, thank you very much," she said, examining a piece that was speckled with pink and black printed flowers. "And I need a dress for Ben's cousin's wedding next month. For you, I was thinking more along the lines of something like that."
She pointed to a mannequin adorned in a tight, low-cut top and giggled at my hesitant expression. It wasn't like my steady B-cup was anything to win awards with, after all. "Come on, Bella, if you won't tell the guy you love him, maybe you can showhim. Starting with that shirt."
Since I couldn't bring my pansy-ass to confess the 'L-word' to a certain someone, I'd confided in Angela instead. With the way she was teasing me about it, I wasn't sure if I was regretting it yet or not; if she let it slip around Edward, I'd probably choke on my own tongue.
She had a point, though. After thinking about how I'd felt before going shopping, with my rampant, thrumming pulse heavy in my ears and chest (and other unmentionable places), I decided that it was almost unfairthat he stirred my body into such a hormone-crazed mayhem. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to show a little skin and make him sweat a bit, too.
It all sounded good in my head, and when I asked Angela to help me pick out a few things, I felt even more confident. Then in the dressing room, staring at a reflection of myself in tight-fitting jeans, a boob-hugging shirt, and a sexy-casual-everyone's-wearing-them faux leather jacket, I felt a little bit slutty. The jeans were nearly Lauren-worthy, my B-cup had magically become a C (I wasn't sure how), and the jacket made me look like sort of a badass—which was the biggest joke ever.
"Come on, let me see," Angela said, jiggling the locked doorknob.
I turned sideways, wishing I could grow myself an ass. "I'm not sure about this."
"Oh, just open the door."
I sighed, wrinkling my nose and feeling like a wannabe Top Model, but Angela grinned when I exited the dressing room. "Wow, Bella. You look incredible. And your boobs look—"
"Fake?" I snorted and tugged the v-fold of my shirt closer together. In my periphery, I could see a short girl and tall blonde standing a few feet away, staring at me, and I suddenly felt like I was right back in high school, having my chest-size evaluated by my fellow gym mates. "I look disproportionate."
Angela rolled her eyes, tossing her purse on the floor and pulling me over to a large, tri-folded mirror. "Look at yourself. You look hot."
"I'm Skank-Ass Barbie."
She laughed, gathering her hair into a ponytail. "Hardly. But standing on your toes like that doesn't help," she said, leaving me to stare at myself as she walked back over to a rack of dresses.
I lowered my heels to the ground and watching the jeans' legs touch the ground. "They're a little long," I called to Angela, thinking of my black flats lying on the dressing room floor. They weren't exactly going to help me out.
"Oh, but that's where these come in."
Surprised, I turned toward the cheerful voice that was not Angela's and came face to face with the short girl who had been observing me only a moment ago. Her choppy, black hair and shocking ivory skin stunned me for a moment, and I couldn't help gawking because her eyes were the color of golden flames.
"Huh?" I replied, internally handing myself the Award of Impolite Jackassery.
She smiled, obviously not caring that I was staring at her like a socially awkward deer in headlights. "Right here," she said, pointing to her feet, which were encased in a stylish pair of black leather boots. "I'm so short, even the petite sizes are too long. I'm always stuck wearing heels."
I nodded stupidly, snapping my gaping mouth shut. She was kind of ethereally stunning, as if she'd been plucked straight out of a fairy tale and set onto Earth. Yet, something about her was oddly familiar.
"I'm Alice. And you're Bella, right?" she said warmly, extending one of her small hands in my direction. I was surprised that she knew my name—this was Port Angeles, after all, not Forks—but even more puzzled by the fact that she didn't say Isabella. I accepted her hand and my eyes widened at the intensely cold temperature of her fingers.
"Sorry," she said with a small giggle, holding up a soda cup that was dripping with condensation. "This thing is freezing my hands off."
"Oh, that's okay. And yes, I'm Bella." What was it with me and strangers and the inability to speak intelligently? "Nice to meet you."
"You don't remember me, do you?" she asked, a curious glimmer in her eyes.
I was pretty sure I'd remember a walking, talking porcelain doll if I'd ever met one before. "Remember you?" I repeated, racking my brain.
She nodded, a friendly smile on her face. "It was a while ago, and if I'm not mistaken, you were somewhat drugged," she recounted. "The first week of October at the hospital. We shared an elevator."
"Really?" I had absolutely no recollection of her at all. But I supposed it made sense; I'd been completely out of it that night. But the word 'hospital' made my inner light bulb spark to life—that was why her eyes were so memorable. Only I'd seen them on someone else first. "Wait, are you… You're Dr. Cullen's daughter?"
"Oh, so you do remember me," she said, beaming.
"Well, not exactly," I said apologetically. "You have your dad's eyes. They're kind of unusual…" It was faint, but her expression faltered for a moment, the smallest dip of seriousness on her lips.
"Not in a bad way. They're really pretty. I've just never seen—" I shook my head, ticking my tongue on the roof of my mouth. I was such a blowhard. "So… boots, huh?"
She perked up again, nodding. "I think they could do the trick," she said kindly, motioning for me to follow her. She was dressed as though she shopped in places like this often, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to take her advice.
"So, Bella," she said as we walked around the corner, where a small display of boots were posed, from cowgirl to fuck-me-hard to ruggedly-chic. "Are you sticking around town because you fell madly in love with the wet Washington air?"
I chuckled. "Just playing around in the family roots, I guess. I was born here. And my dad was the police chief up until last year."
"Charlie. He was great." She spoke my father's name with a smile, and right as I expected her to launch into a speech on how she knew him or ask how he was, she cocked an eyebrow with a glint of mischief in her eyes. "So, you aren't staying because of a guy, then?"
I let out a nervous laugh, feeling my cheeks warm. "Um…" I stalled, hesitantly reaching to check a price tag on a pair of suede boots.
"Starts with 'E,' rhymes with 'bedward?'"
Wondering how she knew so much, I furrowed my eyebrows. "How—"
"Oh, I met him, too," she said casually, seeming amused at my sudden resemblance to Elmo. "I candy stripe every now and again and met him last week. I recognized him from the time you were at the hospital and we started chatting. He's pretty fond of you."
I wasn't sure whether to beg her to tell me what he said or flush another shade of pink. "Yeah, I'm pretty fond of him, too," I said shyly, making Alice laugh musically.
"Sorry, I'm always in everyone's business. I blame it on living in a small town," she admitted, glancing between my outfit and a pair of charcoal boots that matched my jacket. "Here, how about these? They're not too bulky. You could wear them overtop your jeans like me. What do you think?"
"I'm not sure if I'm cool enough to pull off the runway look like you can," I said with a smile, kneeling down to find a box in my size. "But they're nice. Thanks for your help—really. I probably would have ended up rolling my jeans and looking like I belonged in some kind of 80's video."
I glanced up to her, but she had her eyes narrowed. She looking distracted, as though she was listening to a whispered secret from someone I couldn't see.
"Alice?"
After a few moments, she blinked, inhaling and giving me a small smile. "Sorry. I have a tendency to daydream."
"Oh, don't worry." I stood up with a shoebox, holding it against my hip. "I do that all the time. I should have gotten extra credit for it in high school."
My joke was lame, but she laughed with an insightful grin. "You have no idea," she remarked, just as Angela rounded the corner.
"Hey, there you are," Angela called to me, walking over and giving the beautiful, tiny girl next to me a wave. "Hey, Alice!"
Alice was charismatic, easily falling into conversation with Angela and I about our day and the fall festivities taking place later that evening, and I found myself even more interested in her. She spoke to me like we were old friends and looked at me as though she already knew my secrets, but was still curious—like I was the enigma. I wanted to ask about her—her father and family, if I was being honest—and when she and Angela began to chat about the hospital, I had my window.
But then it was interrupted by buzzing coming from my purse. I quietly stepped to the side, leaving them to talk, and took out my phone. One new text message from Edward.
Do girls ever get tired of shopping?
Chuckling, I typed back, Miss me already?
A little. Holding Ben's hand isn't as fun.
I snorted softly. Don't worry, we're almost done. We'll call when we're close to the fair. Save your hands for me, okay?
I promise. See you soon.
I sighed, stuffing my phone back into my purse and leaning against the wall. When I looked up, Angela and Alice were smirking, conveying perceptive stares that they knew I was a blob of putty in Someone That Rhymed With Bedward's hands.
"Smitten, Kitten?" Angela piped up.
I tried to act casual and calmly took two steps toward them. "How do you know it wasn't Charlie?"
"Because I doubt you sigh lovingly at your dad's texts," she replied, making me grimace in horror while Alice looked on in amusement.
"Gross," I uttered. "Fine. I'm smitten. If they sell cat ears in here, my outfit will be complete."
After another minute of teasing and giggling, a sudden crash made us all whip our heads to the left. A girl of the most striking caliber was standing by a display of purses, smoothing her long, golden, Pantene-approved hair as two gawky teenage boys were struggling to pick themselves up off a spilled rack of clothes, which I supposed they'd overturned. The blonde simply looked at her nails and barely contained a smirk as the boys rushed to pick up what they'd knocked over.
Alice shook her head, looking unconcerned. "Well, I should probably get back to my sister. She's causing accidents, as always."
I wasn't into girls, but she was so gorgeous and curvaceous, I might have fallen all over myself, too, if I was a guy. The girl had been the one standing with Alice, though I hadn't gotten a good look at her before. Well, if I'd learned anything, it was that the Cullen family had a guaranteed ability to stun people speechless, and apparently trigger tripping spells with their beauty.
"Any day, Alice," she called in a bored voice, running her eyes over the group of us, letting her gaze settle on me. She was tight-lipped, but not quite frowning.
Alice rolled her eyes. "Don't mind her. Rosalie gets impatient when there aren't enough mirrors for her to look into."
The girl called Rosalie was too far away to have heard her sister, but she still scowled as though she had. She gave me one last look of ambiguity before heading to the front of the store.
"It was really nice to finally meet you while you're lucid, Bella," Alice said with a twinkle in her eye as she chose a pair of purple suede boots from the shelf for herself, and tucked them under her arm. She reached for the box I was still holding and tapped the top with an eloquent smile. "Oh, make sure to cross your legs and flash Edward a bit of the buckle. He won't be able to take his eyes off you. See you later, girls."
She winked and jogged back to her sister, giving us a final wave.
"Getting boots, huh?" Angela said slyly, nudging my shoulder. "Way to make him sweat, Bella."
I shrugged, still unsure if I could pull off this whole look. "No big deal. They just cover my feet and make me taller."
"And make men picture you wearing only those." Angela laughed at the look on my face and before I could stammer over a reply, she continued, "Alice is a sweetheart, isn't she? It's rare to see her without a smile on her face."
"Yeah, she is. She looks just like her dad," I said, staring off into the direction Alice had gone. "Sort of. They've got the same eyes. Didn't you mention that she's adopted, though?"
"Yup," Angela answered. "Out of the kids, I've only really met Alice, but from what I've heard, their whole family has those eyes. I figure they're some kind of special contacts. I guess it's one of those weird family trends, but I'm not one to judge personal style… so, what do you think of this one?" She held up a classy dark purple dress, flashing the forty-percent off sticker in my direction. "On sale, too."
I gave her a thumbs-up and as we walked back to the dressing rooms, my thoughts started to swirl. Angela was obviously used to seeing Alice, for she was completely nonchalant about the uncanny match of the Cullens' caramel-colored eyes. But the whole family? From what I remembered, only a few of them were related by blood. It seemed strange—clannish, even.
As I changed back into my clothes and carried my purchases to the front register, I tried to tell myself that maybe Dr. Cullen, along with being an emergency room doctor, was an overprotective ophthalmologist. Maybe he'd ordered the whole family special sun-screening lenses. Other than their eyes and exceptional good looks, they seemed genuinely kind. Well, Rosalie had seemed a bit aloof, but I hadn't actually spoken to her. I supposed that some people in small towns were just aimed to be mysterious like this, stereotype or no. Stephen King would have had a field day.
Another buzz in my purse snapped me out of my stupor as I waited for Angela to finish paying. I opened my phone to read:
I forgot to ask you… is today penguin day?
God damn it. Him and his hilarity over my cartoon underwear. I shook my head, biting back a grin, and sent, Nope. It's I'm Not Wearing Any day.
I was totally lying. But it would be worth the look on his face later.
-:-
