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28. Saturday, February 4, 2012 around 10:00 PM

Somewhere in Bushwick …

"Make a left here," yells Rose from her spot in the front seat next to Emmett, who's been driving around the same five city blocks for what feels like hours.

"Woman, you can't just yell turn when we're right at the corner. I really can't afford to have an accident right now." Emmett sensibly keeps on driving straight ahead until he finds a spot to make a very legal u-turn.

"There's nobody out here. How the fuck do you have an accident if you're the only car on the road?" Rose mocks him.

"I'm getting sick in here," Alice, squeezed in between two of Emmett's roommates, whines.

"See." Emmett shoots Rose a pointed look, before turning his head to the passengers in the backseat. "I'm sorry, Alice."

"It's not your driving, actually. It's the smell in here."

Alice's right. The combination of wet dog smell mixed with Febreze and piss in this Volvo station wagon, ca. 1989, is nausea inducing, which is why I've been trying to breath through my mouth for the last hour or so.

"Oh, suck it up, Alice," Rose mutters, returning her attention to her phone. "It says 348. This is 370. It must be somewhere around here. But I swear we've been here before."

I can't tell whether we've been here before or not. It's pitch dark and it all looks the same. Some industrial looking buildings interrupted intermittently by a lonely tenement.

"Let's just park the car and walk," Emmett suggests, as he's done at least three times before.

"Let's not," Rose asserts again. "Remember? Four inch heels."

"Woman-" He's clearly aggravated at this point. I'd be too, if I had to drive. Getting out of the car and walking seems like a sensible option to me.

"Stop calling me that!" she interrupts him before he can voice his anger.

"Can you two lovebirds wrap it up?" says the bulky guy whose thigh is pushing me into the door, which shuts both of them up promptly. "Let's park the car," he orders swiftly.

Two minutes later, we walk down the block in search for what's supposed to be the biggest party in Brooklyn, if not all of New York City, with three bands playing and four DJ's spinning. It sounds too lame to bother leaving the apartment. Yet, here I am. My motivation for going is mainly that Edward will be there.

"Shouldn't we hear something? I mean music … people?" I ask, but nobody responds. The only sound I hear is that of Rose's heels as she hobbles along behind me.

"I think I found it," Emmett finally shouts from somewhere off in the distance and we all start moving faster, except for Rose, who just can't.

After shuffling through a throng of people to get in, I wonder how exactly we almost missed this place.

I spot Jasper easily standing near the bar. He's sticking to his suit routine despite the fact that we're hanging out in an establishment with raw concrete floors that sells booze in plastic cups. Strangely enough, he doesn't really look out of place.

"Hey," I greet him.

I kind of expect him to be mad at me, at least a little bit. Instead he smiles when he sees me and kisses me on the cheek. "Can I get you a drink?"

"I'm okay. Listen, I'm sorry about letting you-know-what slip in front of Edward-"

"Don't be. I'm not. Well, I'm sorry he saw the need to move out. I venture it's safer at my place than where he's currently living." He stops and gives me a wry smile. "With three roommates he found on craigslist. They might as well be crack dealers for all he knows. Maybe you wanna impress that on him when you see him?"

I don't know what to say to that.

Coughing once, he continues, "Ahem, we're not exactly on speaking terms currently."

I nod, though I think it's best not to get involved. "Where is he?"

Jasper points me into the direction of a long hallway and I scurry. When I find the room Edward's band's supposed play in, they're already packing up and part of me is glad about it. As much as I've enjoyed hearing him play, seeing him with that blonde on stage will crush my confidence.

Some other girl is standing off to the side, clearly waiting for someone. His band mate Eli looks like real slime today—he's outdone himself: his hair's slicked back with at least two handful of grease and his hefty upper arms are bulging out of his retro t-shirt—so I doubt she's waiting for him. Edward's standing at the other of the stage unplugging some cables with his back to me. I'm still contemplating how exactly to approach him when he turns, his eyes landing squarely on me. I wave lamely, try to smile and then walk over.

"Hey," I say, feeling tongue-tied as I look at him.

"Hey," he replies in a low, hoarse voice.

"Listen-" I start.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too. But-"

"I didn't mean to … sorry about acting like a dick. " He shakes his head and I start laughing.

"Yeah, you did." I can't resist saying it. "Anyway. I didn't mean to run when I saw you afterwards … well, I sort of did. Never mind. I went out when I got back home that night and … yeah, I got pretty drunk," I ramble, staring at a spot off in the distance. "So … yeah … hangover from hell." He's laughing but covers his mouth politely when I look at him.

"Go on." He motions for me to continue, still trying to suppress laughing out loud. "This is good. I can tell."

"Fuck you," I say with a smile. "I should've let you give me your lame explanation why you acted like such a dick, then barfed on your shoes."

"That would have been okay. Payback, I guess," he says and then we both fall silent. My eyes latch onto his mouth and I watch him swallow. The air feels abuzz with electricity. Sparks are practically flying. Or maybe I imagine it cause I want him to kiss me too badly. I lean forward, closing my eyes.

"Edward," his pudgy band mate calls, "I could really use your help with this."

I open my eyes in a snap. It's gone. The bubble's been deflated, if it ever existed. Edward's inhaling and exhaling slowly, still standing close.

"Don't go anywhere," he tells me, touching my arm. "I'll be right back, okay."

"Okay."

I lean back against a speaker and watch him pack up his guitar, roll up some cables and move the equipment out of the room.

"Where were we?" he asks out of breath after running back into the room ten minutes later.

"I don't know." I grin at him, raising one eyebrow. "You tell me."

And then, before I've time to prepare for what comes next, what should've happened a while ago, his lips come crashing down on mine. I reach with my hands for his shoulders to avoid losing balance. It's not a tender sweet kiss. It's wanton and wild and needy and yeah, long overdue.


Credit definitely is due to Ms. Dionne. :) Yeah, I watched Clueless one too many times.

Many many thanks to the people who review this tale. I really appreciate it.