He takes my coat from me when we get to the pub, like a gentleman. My cardigan slips down my arm with the motion, revealing a sliver of skin and collar bones. His eyes trace my skin as he hangs up the coats, his face composed but his eyes are dark and hungry. I'd be lying if I said I didn't like it.
The pub, Kings Head, is packed with locals tonight. The regulars sit in rough jeans, muddy boots and flannel shirts by the bar, drinking pints and revisiting old conversations with lifetime friends. Everywhere else, the festivities are shining through. Young and old, everyone has made a little effort. There's music playing over the speakers, those good old rock Christmas songs that will never go out of style, muffling the conversation and laughter. The smell of alcohol and merry cheer hangs a little stagnant in the air – that old pub smell that won't wash out – but it's toasty warm in here, and I'm grateful for that.
Edward takes my hand again and pulls me through the crowd, heading to his usual spot where Rose and Emmett are waiting with a group of other faces. I'm introduced but their names might as well have been in a different language, I forgot them the moment we sat down. They don't pay me any attention, going right back to their conversations.
I'm sandwiched between Rose and Edward on the worn cushioned wall seat, feeling more excited than nervous as I sip the gin and tonic Rose saved for me and watch the people around us. It's so crowded but everyone is cheerful and I just blend right into the wall here. It's oddly comforting.
A familiar Christmas song plays and I softly sing along in my head, watching the way the guy opposite me smiles. Dimples appear in his cheeks, making him look almost angelic under a halo of gelled spiky blonde hair. He turns to the field mouse sitting besides him, her soft peanut butter hair feathering around her face, and talks enthusiastically about a football game.
I jump when rough fingers touch my thigh, wrapping around it and squeezing lightly. A comforting, almost friendly gesture… but it sends my body on fire. Edward leaves his hand there, resting hot on my thigh and slightly edged under the seam of green satin that's slipped up a little.
Another gulp of gin gives me the courage to turn my head enough to look at him. He's listening half-heartedly to the conversation, his dark green eyes alight under the pub lighting as they flicker to me, burning intensely for a second before flickering away again.
He moves his hand an inch higher and squeezes lightly once again, then takes his hand away completely. I fight the urge to rub my thighs together, knowing it will only kindle the flames.
The blonde ferret with dimples – I think his name is Mike – gets the next round. Another gin and tonic for us, Rose calls out.
"Lauren just had her nose done, can you tell?" Rose whispers in my ear, already several drinks ahead of everyone else. She gestures not so subtly by tilting her hair to the platinum blonde sitting right at the end of the table, batting her eyelids up at Emmett. He's completely oblivious, trying to down his pint before Mike gets back with the next one.
"It hasn't helped much," I whisper back, making Rosalie giggle. I feel a tinge of guilt, making fun of this woman I don't even know. But it makes Rose happy and, well, this Lauren is pretty cringey. She's pawing on Emmett's arm like she wants to wipe his skin off. She juts her chest out when he finally glances her way.
"Should have got her tits done instead," Rose mutters, less playful and more vengeful this time.
"Emmett's ignoring her," I say reassuringly. The way we're angled has Rose with her back to them. She doesn't say anything but she seems satisfied.
"Cheers," she smiles when our drinks arrive. I can't help but smile back, the alcohol warming my toes and numbing my usual social hang-ups.
She chats some more, telling me about the people we're sitting next to. I'm only half listening, offering a few hums and nods to keep her going. Edward's deeper voice fills in the background, a steady backdrop to everything. The warmth, the alcohol, having Edward so close… it's better than a lullaby. I sink back into the cushions more, letting my feet hang from the seat and sway a little through the air.
"…Bella got stuck in it too," Emmett's booming voice pulls me back into the conversation.
"Huh?" I mutter, bewildered by having so many eyes on me at once.
"The snowstorm," he chuckles at my blank expression.
I can only manage a mumbling "uh" in response.
"It drifted right up against the door," Edward's warm voice joins us, he places his hand on top of mine on the table where everyone can see, giving it a gentle squeeze before reaching for his pint. The mousy girl opposite stares at our hands, her mouth popping open in surprise before she can remember to close it.
"Not seen anything like it since that shit storm in 2011," he continues like he hasn't just set my world on fire.
"That was a bad year," Mike mumbles into his glass, his eyes still on me.
Emmett saves the day. "Shit, did I tell you guys about that time the Jeep took a nosedive into that frozen lake up by…" he has everyone's attention as he launches into a ridiculously exaggerated tale. My hand is still tingling, warm from his rough touch.
I want to grab his hand again, weave my fingers between his and let the warmth radiate through me. My lip finds its usual place between my teeth as I imagine actually having the courage to do that in a public place. The sticky lip gloss feels foreign on my tongue.
I feel his breath on my ear before he speaks. "You ok?" he asks, his voice a quite murmur, relaxed and happy with a slight tinge of concern. His scent washes over my face, musky and comforting. My hand shifts a few inches towards his, the unconscious movement startling me a little. I turn my face to look at him, my eyes wide as I gauge his reaction.
He instantly calms me as I melt into his eyes, deep emeralds dazzling me.
"Yeah, I'm good," my lips move of their own accord, whispering the truth without consulting me first.
One corner of his mouth pulls up in that signature smirk. We're close, I can see the minute stubble along his jaw and the long lashes on his eyelids as he blinks.
"Good," he practically smoulders back at me, shifting away for a moment so he can slip his hand between me and the seat. With his arm firmly around my waist, I'm tucked closer into his side, feeling the steady inhale and exhale as he breathes through the soft cotton of his button up shirt. His rough jeans stretch out long before him underneath the table as he relaxes into the seat, pulling me even closer.
I can feel eyes on me again but this time I couldn't care less, all I can focus on is the way the rough skin of his fingertips catches and pulls on the satin of my dress as his hand lingers underneath the cardigan.
He goes back to his conversation, content to just hold me here.
3 drinks pass us like this, another G&T and then some mulled wine for me. I can feel it going to my head a little but God, this just feels too good. I'm sitting here smiling to myself like an idiot simply because it's been far too long since I went out like this. Since I was around people, just listening to conversation and enjoying the company of a group.
The table jumps under my hands as Emmett gets up to buy the next round, already inebriated and a little unsteady underfoot as he knocks into the table.
I shift a little in Edward's arm to face Rose. He doesn't let go, he just continues to rub those little circles into my side with his thumb.
Rose smiles at me knowingly, making me blush as I struggle to keep the corners of my mouth from lifting along with her.
"Cosy?" she asks with a raised eyebrow.
"Very," I reply, reaching for my drink to hide my smile as she laughs. "So, Emmett huh?" I ask, hoping that she'll offer up an explanation now we've both been plied with alcohol.
She sighs. "Yeah, Emmett," she replies like that explains it all.
"So you like him?" I repeat her words back to her from earlier and now it's her turn to blush, her cheeks turning rosy.
"It's complicated," she replies, then rolls her eyes at her own words for sounding like such a cliché.
I lean a little closer to her and whisper. "He's looking at you right now," my eyes jumping between her and Emmett, standing by the bar with his body angled towards us and a curious expression on his face.
"How do I look?" she whispers back, sounding a little nervous.
"Like a queen," I tell her because it's true.
She smiles for a moment but it fades a little at the corners. "It never goes anywhere," she confides in me, "there's too much baggage on both sides."
I don't know what to say to that, relationships aren't exactly my forte.
"I'll be right back, guard my drink," she mutters as she stands up, straightening her dress and sashaying across the pub to the ladies room. Emmett's eyes follow her like magnets. I hope they work out whatever is between them.
"It's been going on for years," Edward's voice breaks my thoughts as it rolls heavy and rich above my head. I hadn't realised he was listening.
"Why don't they get together? It's obvious they're into each other," I ask, hoping Edward can elaborate a little on the mystery that is Emmett and Rosalie.
I feel his shoulders shrug around me. "It is complicated, she wasn't lying," is all he gives me. His arm moves around me, lifting my chin with a rough, calloused finger so our eyes can meet again.
"You should come out more, it suits you," he tells me with his dark voice, tracing my flushed cheeks with his fingers where the warmth of the pub and the alcohol in my veins has made me glow. "You look good enough to eat."
"You want to eat me?" the words spill out before my brain hears the double meaning. My teeth sink into my plump glossy lip as I realise. His eyes flitter down to the soft pink flesh as I capture it and he lets out a low groan.
"Right here on this table," the lust in his voice adds a gravelly edge that makes muscles deep inside me tighten. "But that wouldn't be…" he searches for the right word, then draws it out slowly, "appropriate, would it." His gaze is so intense as we gravitate to one another.
"Perhaps I could steal a dance later?" he asks, trying to lighten the heavy, desire-laden mood between us, but it doesn't reach his eyes. They're still dark and ravenous.
"I'm a terrible dancer," I whisper back the excuse everyone uses when they don't want to embarrass themselves.
"Liar," he calls me out. "I've seen you dance," he reminds me of my summer fantasy with swaying hips and sultry beats from our time spent stranded in the cottage.
I lean closer, the scent of his alcohol-laced breath and desire aching in my bones pushing me brazenly forward. "True, I can dance. But it wouldn't be… appropriate to dance like that here." His eyes get impossibly darker as we draw closer together, our lips almost touching. "Maybe I'll dance for you later. Just for you," I breathe out quietly as his face twists, nose brushing mine as his lips begin an agonisingly slow descent through the millimetre of static air between us.
"Hey, none of that," Emmett barks as us. Edward's eyes close tightly and his forehead creases into a scowl.
"Mind your own fucking business," he growls back, leaning away from me and resting his head back against the wall.
"No tonsil tennis at the table, that's the rule," Emmett sniggers back at him, too used to Edward's foul mood changes to be offended as he passes out the drinks.
Rose slips back into the seat next to me and hands me a tall glass. "Disaronno and coke, trust me you'll love it," she tells me confidently as she takes a few large gulps of hers, leaving fresh lipstick stains around the edge of the glass.
The Italian almond liqueur adds an extra sweet zip to the fizz of the cola. I imagine it would be good as an ice-cream float. I hum aloud at the thought.
I order another when that one's finished, feeling a soft buzz in my head as the faces swirl around me. Edward's hand on my waist is my tether to reality as my head swims.
The conversation flows freely now everyone's at least a little tipsy. I find myself laughing when Emmett launches into a movie reference, listening to the chorus of people calling out "everybody and their mums is packin' round here," in terrible farmer accents as a result. The reference is familiar but I can't quite place it. Not that it matters, I'm just happy to be included. Happiness surges through me, with something more simmering below the surface.
A happy sigh slips through my lips and I lean my head on Edward's shoulder. I should drink more often, it's making me so…. Floppy? Fluezy? Is that even a word?
Sure, a life of alcoholism just so you can be normal. Never mind talking cohesively.I'm too happy to pay any attention to that annoying voice in the back of my head.
He hums softly along with a song and I can feel myself drifting away to the low baritone notes as he bumbles along with The Pogues.
Rough hands squeezing my waist bring me back to life. My eyes flutter open to see a new forest of pint glasses on the table and our drunk friends laughing and swaying on the makeshift dancefloor. I must have fallen asleep right here.
I gaze up into emerald eyes, a fuzzy smile on my lips. Finally he leans down and presses his to mine. It's sweet and soft, a gentle hello. To start with. I press back against him trying to deepen the kiss as my hands lift, dying to pull on his hair. He pulls his face to the side before I can get there and leans closer to whisper "later" in my ear and place a chaste kiss on my cheek before standing up.
"It's my round, what are you having?"
I hum softly as I try to think. He chuckles. "Lemonade it is," he decides for me.
"Don't forget the vodka," I call after him as he weaves through the crowd. I stay seated for a few minutes, watching Rosalie laugh and dance with the mousy girl. Her blonde hair has been pulled out of it's updo, swishing down her back as her heart-shaped ass sways and bumps with the music. I think about placing my small hands on her waist for a moment, feeling her hourglass figure shimmer and sway with the music. It's not lust, it's just… I don't know. Admiration with a touch of curiosity.
2 songs pass while I sit here and watch the drunk dancers, the queue by the bar must be holding Edward up. I stretch my legs under the table, feeling the slip and slide of satin on my silky thighs. The thought of Edward's heavy weight between them is put to the back of my mind when I realise how much I really have to pee.
Standing up on wobbly feet as the lingering alcohol and blood settling in my body rushes up to my head. I make my way to where Rose disappeared into the ladies room earlier, stumbling around drunk Welshmen and their pretty gals tottering around in heels.
It's cool in here and the music fades away to a low thud. The window is propped open and both the stalls are empty. A strange girl beams at me from the mirror, her appearance shimmering as beautiful and fragile as a butterfly.
I sit down to relieve myself, not at all surprised to find my tiny thong still soaked with arousal from Edward's words earlier.
Splashing a little cold water on my neck and patting it dry to cool down the hot blood pulsing through my veins, I adjust the neckline of my dress and push back through the swinging door.
Loud bawdy shouts greet me as more pints are poured and the festivities go on. It's so crowded now with everyone on their feet, I can't even see our table from here. I push through, eager to get back to Edward.
A flash of auburn on my left, by the bustling bar, catches my eye. I stumble towards it, reaching out for Edward who's still struggling to order our drinks.
My hands finally land on the leather jacket as I reach up to my tiptoes and whisper "hey," in my most sultry voice in his ear.
"Well hello sweetheart," the foreign voice greets me. I stumble back but clammy hands have already clamped around my wrists. Auburn hair is slicked back with a receding hairline revealing acne spotted skin, slightly greasy and tinged yellow. This isn't Edward.
"S…so-sorry," I mutter, trying to look away from his cloudy blue eyes and pull myself from his grip.
The red head besides him lets out a peal of laughter, her bouncy curls jostling around her shoulders as her head falls back. "You've caught a mouse, James," her thick Welsh accent sounding off with her high baby soprano voice.
My mouth stutters around more words that don't quite make it past my lips.
"You're looking good, little mouse," his lewd voice makes bile rise up my throat as I tug harder. He releases my wrist only to grab my shoulder roughly and pull me towards them.
"Feeling hot? Let's take this outside," he pushes me backwards until I'm pressed against a firm chest. More fingers press down on my shoulders as James lets go. I'm pulled backwards towards the toilets again, stumbling over feet as James and the red head follow with sickly sweet smiles.
My breath leaves me in a rush as my foot falls down through the air for a second before landing on the rough tarmac as they drag me outside.
"That's far enough, Laurent," James' voice sneers to the unknown stranger still gripping my shoulders. "What should we do now?"