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20. Delicate

Is it cool that I said all that?
Is it chill that you're in my head?
'Cause I know that it's delicate (delicate)
Is it cool that I said all that
Is it too soon to do this yet?
'Cause I know that it's delicate
Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it?
Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it?
Delicate

-Delicate, Taylor Swift

The first thing that I'm aware of as I wake up is the intense throbbing in my temples. My brain actually feels like it's pulsing. Not to mention the awful taste in my severely dry mouth. Everything about last night was a bad idea. Everything. It was fun while it was happening, but now my body is in revolt. I feel like I have the flu, everything hurts, my body sluggish. I can't believe that people do this for fun.

I cautiously open my eyes, only to immediately regret it. Light should be illegal. The way that it's making my head feel is unnatural, the pounding demands my attention. The brightness cutting through my eyeballs is equivalent to driving stakes into them, somehow worsening the pain that was already horrendous.

Alcohol is now my enemy and should rot in hell.

After a few minutes, I'm able to fully open my eyes to reveal the Cullen's living room. The memories from last night come flooding back in snapshots, causing embarrassment to fill me. Unfortunately, the amount of alcohol I ingested is enough to make me feel like I'm dying, but not enough to wipe away how thoroughly I humiliated myself last night.

I can't believe I actually told Jacob to fuck off, even if I do think he deserved it. Who knew I became a complete bitch when I drink? Because I didn't.

Groaning, I sit up, a wave of nausea washing over me. My stomach rolls violently, my mouth flooding with saliva, and I force myself not to throw up on the Persian rug at my feet.

Once the wave passes and I'm able to breathe again, I notice the glass of water and bottle of Tylenol on the coffee table in front of me, a trashcan at my feet. I gratefully take the Tylenol and all but chug the water, causing my stomach to roll again at how quickly I downed the water, forgetting that slow sips are key.

I rub my temples, waiting for the pounding to calm. My eyes ache like they never have before.

It's more official than it was before. I'm never drinking again.

A soft rustle on the other side of the room catches my attention. Edward's asleep on the other end of the sectional under a throw blanket, using his arm as a pillow. The sight of him makes my heart clench and my eyes sting. He took care of me last night, making sure that I have everything that I need, even after I fought him every step of the way.

No, no, no, no, no! Please tell me that I didn't tell him like that! Please!

But I know that it's no use. While everything toward the end of the night is fuzzy, I remember that crystal clear. The first time that I tell him I love him shouldn't have been a drunken confession.

I need to know if he feels the same. If he's in as deep as me, because I've fully descended in the pool with no hope of being saved, not that I want to be. But, if he doesn't feel the same, I'll be crushed, and I'll finally drown.

The heavy thoughts swarming my brain aren't helping my current state of death-ness. I lurch myself off the couch, making my way to the downstairs bathroom. When I see my reflection in the mirror, I look about as good as I feel. My skin is sallow, the makeup around my eyes is smudged, making me look like a corpse. My hair is a mess of tangles mess, and I run my fingers through it to try to tame it. I then splash water on my face, getting as much of the black smudges off as I can.

After taking the time to make myself look and feel more human, I exit the bathroom and head back to the living room.

"'Morning," Edward says, now sitting up on the couch. His sleep rumpled state tugs at my heartstrings. The hair on the left side of his head all but sticks straight up and his clothes are wrinkled.

I shift from foot to foot, barely looking at him, unable to shake how awkward I feel. "'Morning."

"How are you feeling?" he asks, rubbing his hands over his face.

I shrug a shoulder, "Like I've been hit upside the head with a sledgehammer." I point to the side of the sectional that he's sitting on. "Did you sleep there all night?"

He looks down at the cushion, scratching his head, almost bashful. "I wanted to make sure that you were okay. You were pretty wasted last night."

"I'm sorry about last night, I didn't make it easy on you." Every time he tried to help me last night flashes in my mind and how I definitely didn't make it easy. In fact, I was kind of obnoxious.

"Don't worry about it." He replies, awkwardly.

"Ok…" I trail off, not knowing how to do this. Not knowing how to do this with an elephant standing between us. The air in the room feels thick with tension, the silence almost deafening. I want to go back to yesterday afternoon when things were still simple, when we were laughing and being us. Right now, we're not us.

When the silence stretches long past comfortable, I'm only slightly shocked when Edward comes to stand in front of me. My eyes are glued to my hands that have suddenly become fascinating.

He cocks his head, catching my eyes. "Talk to me. Please."

The breath leaves me at the look of pain in his eyes. For a moment, he looks like the fifteen-year-old boy that told me he was leaving for the summer. And I melt. I melt so quick, so fast, that I don't think that I'll be solid again.

I don't really want to talk about any of this right now. But I need to know where he's at, and the only way I can accomplish this is if we talk, no matter how painful the conversation turns out to be.

"About what said last night," I start, but trail off, my nerves giving out. The only thing that I can think about is him possibly turning me down again.

"You said a lot of things last night." His voice is heavy. He knows exactly what I'm talking about, he just needs me to say it. Because he wants me to mean it. Just like I want him to.

"About me kind of loving you. That was kind of a lie." I say, fingers playing with the bottom of my t-shirt to keep my hands from shaking.

He's just standing there looking at me, his face not giving anything away.

"I don't kind of love, I do love you. It wasn't just something that I said because I was drunk. I love you." I swallow hard, nerves over taking me now that the words are out there.

He's quiet for a few seconds as we continue to stare at each other, "You know I love you, too, right?" The way he says it is so Edward, making my heart pound in exhilaration and relief.

His hand cups my cheek, his thumb running along my bottom lip, my lips parting at his touch. His gaze zeros in on my mouth, and I've never wanted anything as badly as I do right now.

Without taking his eyes off mine, he slowly leans forward, brushing his lips lightly against mine, testing the waters. The contact makes me suck in a breath.

Please, please, please...

One of his hands goes to the back of my neck, bringing our lips together again, firmer than before. My eyes close, our mouths pressed together, but not moving. The anticipation for what's going to come next makes my palms sweat, my heart feels like it's going to burst right out my chest it's beating so fast. In the next moment, his lips part slightly, and I follow his lead, turning my head to the side slightly, fusing our lips together further. My shaking hands go to the sides of his neck. A groan escapes him, making my heart jump. The hand that's remained on my cheek makes its way into my hair, holding me to him. All the other innocent, sweet kisses that I've ever gotten in my life don't compare to this one. I can feel it in my toes, wherever he touches me feels like it's being electrified.

Suddenly, he's gripping my waist, pulling me tighter to him so there's no space between every inch of me and every inch of him. His lips go to press open mouthed kisses on my neck, causing goosebumps to form on my arms. God, I never knew my neck is so sensitive! When he gently nips the skin below my ear, causing me to ache for him in other ways.

I shiver.

"Bella," his voice is ragged as our mouths crash together again.

God, his lips on mine again feel so much than I imagined. My fingers weave themselves through his hair, and the groan he lets out does things to me. I feel like I'm on fire, tingling all over and I can't get enough of his mouth.

His fingers run thru my hair, his eyes open and warm. "I love you."

I warm all over, "I love you, too." I don't think that I'll ever get tired of saying that.

We both jump when his phone starts ringing.

Sighing, he pulls away from me. "It's my mom. If I don't answer, she'll keep calling."

While he's talking to his mom, I take the time to check my messages.

I have several from the girls in our group chat. All showing their concern over me.

Alice: did u make it to Edward's ok?

Alice: u ok?

Claire: I have your jacket.

But it's the text that came in this morning an hour ago from Rose's sister Kate and the amount of missed calls that I have from both of my parents, that makes my blood run cold.

Kate: The 'rents know about the party.

Then one from my dad: Get home now.

"Shit!" I exclaim.

Edward looks at me with furrowed brows while he finishes the call with his mom.

"What is it?" he asks, coming back over to me.

I wave my phone at him, "My parents know about the party."

"Shit." He rubs his face with his hands.

"Yeah."

Since my parents already know about the party, Edward drives me home. Before I get out and go inside my house to face World War III, I promise to call him later if I can.

At first, I think that I'm home free because the house is so quiet when I walk in. Eerily so. That false sense of security comes crashing down when I go to walk up the stairs and I hear my dad's sinister voice.

"Don't even think about it!" The way he says the words it's like they're their own separate sentence, each word spoken with care. He isn't loud, which honestly would've been better.

I walk like a dog with its tail between its legs into the living room.

Both of my parents are standing there in pajamas, looking like they haven't slept. My Dad is shaking with anger and Mom just looks drained, but they both have equal looks of anger and disappointment on their faces.

I'm in deep shit.

"Why did you lie?" He's still pronouncing his words carefully, which he only does if he's about to blow a gasket and he's trying to get himself under control.

I open my mouth to say something, but he doesn't give me the chance.

"You and your brother could've just told us that you were going to a party with your friends. But instead you lie about where you're going and you're going to be doing." The gasket has blown, his voice growing in volume until he's full on yelling, which is a rarity. It truly takes a lot for my dad to blow like this. Like when Emmett backed into a pole when Dad was teaching him to drive because he wasn't paying attention. I had to sit in the backseat while Dad lectured my brother about driving safely for half an hour. "Do you know how terrifying it is to get a call in the middle of the night with someone telling you that your son was in attendance at a party that had gotten broken up by the police, where there was underage drinking, and that all of his friends were with him, except you? How terrifying it was for us to call Alice's house and have her mom tell us that you hadn't shown up there? Do you?"

"Charlie," Mom starts, trying to get him to calm down a little, or at least to stop yelling.

Dad takes a few deep breaths, glaring at me.

"Where you last night, Bella?" It's mom that asks this.

I know they know, so there's really no point in lying.

"I was at Edward's."

My reply makes Dad's face turn tomato red. "You were at that boys house?"

"Nothing happened!" I defend. Except kissing, lots and lots of kissing. Kissing so good that it felt like an out of body experience.

Dad just huffs, shaking his head.

"It didn't. When he got to the party, I was… drunk," even though I've already admitted to spending the night with a boy, it's the fact that I was drunk last night that's the hardest part to admit. "He got me some water and took me back to his house to sober up. I fell asleep, that's all that happened! You have to trust me!"

"After last night, trust is the furthest thing from my mind." Dad sits down on the couch, head landing in his hands like he's depleted.

"You really disappointed last night, kid. So did your brother." Mom rubs Dad's back, her fingers trailing into his hair. "It's going to take a lot to earn our trust back."

"I know. I'm sorry." The fact that I've disappointed them is the worst part. It's like a dagger being driver into me.

"Here's what's going to happen," Mom continues, her fingers still playing with Dad's hair. "the next month, every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, you and your brother will be working at the restaurant. There will be no phone, computer, or TV for as long as we feel is necessary. There will be no 'going out with friends' for a very long time, until we feel like you've earned our trust back. Understood?"

I nod, tears pooling in my eyes before sliding down my face.

"Now, go get showered and changed, you have a shift at the restaurant." She nods toward the stairs, her face stone like.

"I really am sorry," I say.

Her chin quivers, "I know. Go get ready."

I make my way upstairs to shower and get my uniform on.

If anyone is wondering, a shift around greasy smelling food is pure hell when you're hungover.

A/N: I hope you liked it. The first time I got drunk, I ended up texting my mom at 6:30 am telling her that I was eating pasta. She promptly asked if I was sober, and my brilliant response was to tell: I am now.

Good times.

See you next time.