HANGOVER
When I woke up, I was laid out on a hospital bed. I groaned a little, blinking my still heavy eyes and moved my arm to attempt to paw at my face. Something tugged at the inside of my elbow, and I realized I had an IV in. I groaned, a wave of nausea hitting me as I turned my face away from it and shutting my eyes, I fucking hated needles. Last night-or still tonight, I couldn't tell- didn't take any time to come back to me, a lucky break for roofies. But I did need a moment to come to. At my groan, a soft, concerned voice spoke.
"Eva? Does it hurt?"
I fluttered open my eyes again and looked in the direction of the voice, looking up at Edward. He looked mussed, concerned, and I felt a bolt of something shoot through my chest at the fact that he was...still here.
"N-no, I just don't like needles." I murmured. "H-how long have I been out?"
"About 45 minutes, it's about quarter past ten. You didn't take in too much of the drug."
I exhaled in relief. I took my free hand and patted my chest, where I'd kept my phone, but discovered I was now in scrubs, not my dress.
"Oh, where's my phone?" I perked up again, looking down at myself, feeling much better fully dressed. He held it out quickly, having placed it on the small table beside me with my ID and debit card.
I smiled at him weakly. "Thank you, Edward.." For more than just my phone, but I had to call the girls. I called Angela first, and she picked up after two rings, her voice still slurred slightly, ah, the joys of IV fluids. It was loud in the background, so I knew they were still out, I bit my lip in worry.
"Eva!? Oh thank god where're you? We came outta the bathroom n' you were gone-"
"I'm ok! I'm ok! I'm home, I took an Uber." I could lie over the phone, not wanting to ruin their night or make them feel guilty about what had happened. Edward looked at me in surprised confusion. I glanced at him before I continued.
"I got sick too- I was so drunk I just ran outside. It was gross." I laughed sheepishly. "When I tried to get back in the bouncer refused, basically booted me. I think he didn't think a girl covered in neon vomit was a good look. I got an Uber home and passed out, I'm so sorry."
I heard Angela explain what I'd said off the line, hearing yells of relief and Jess leaning closer to the receiver.
"YASSS BISHhhh! You go' kicked outta the baaaar!" I had to laugh, she sounded so proud of me.
"I guess I'm better at partying than I thought!" I agreed, my brow furrowing. They were all cheering and laughing then, Angela finally clear over the line again.
"Okay, okay, I'm so glad yer alright boo-boo. Ge'ssum sleep ye?"
"I will, make sure you guys stick together ok? I saw some fucking weirdos outside."
"Roger dodger baby! Happy New Year!" We said our goodbyes and I hung up, sighing in relief that they'd bought my massive fib.
"Why didn't you tell them?" Edward asked in confusion.
"...They really wanted me to have a good time tonight, they were trying so hard. I don't want them to feel guilty for what happened." I sighed, rubbing my face and wincing when I felt the makeup I probably smudged.
"It was my fault anyway, I know better! I should have been keeping a closer eye on my drink-"
Edward scoffed, his eyes and voice suddenly enraged.
"Do not dare place the blame for this on yourself!" His voice was nearly a snarl.
"You should not have to stare at your beverage like a damn gargoyle in order to prevent someone from poisoning it! It's absolutely ridiculous. I should have crushed that rat faced little bastard." He looked away from me then, grimacing, trembling as though he was trying to prevent himself from breaking something. I stared at him in shock, he'd never been so expressive in front of me. He looked to me then, butterscotch eyes burning, but he calmed quickly, clearing his throat.
"You did nothing wrong. Do not take the actions of a horrible, disgusting little man onto your shoulders. You did not ask for this."
He was curt, but sat back again, shaking his head unhappily. I still felt drowsy, hungover. My head heavy and aching. I didn't argue with him, feeling my eyes prick with tears at his defense of me. I nodded quietly, and he looked worried then.
"I-I'm sorry I raised my voice, did I frighten you?" He was much quieter then, and I perked.
"N-no! No, I'm...really, really grateful. I was...scared." I didn't want to admit it. Admitting to not being able to be self sufficient was difficult.
"I'm also...still, pretty embarrassed. That was not exactly the impression I was hoping to leave on, well, anyone really." I cringed, looking up at him. He was still as he responded.
"The only impression you left was that you care about your friends. Enough to even put yourself at personal discomfort. That's...admirable."
He looked down on the last word, voice much calmer now. I bit my lip, not knowing how to take that compliment, it made me sound a lot more noble than I actually was.
"Well, regardless, it can't exactly get much worse...Um, do you like diner food?" I looked up at him, I needed coffee, and grease, and pancakes to sop up the mess in my guts. Maybe placate the low nausea.
"I'm...on a special diet. However if you're offering, I would be happy to bring you somewhere to eat. It's been a long night, and you look like you could use a little coffee."
I smiled at him, noting the 'special diet' comment. I was still completely and utterly enraptured, surely the man before me couldn't be a monster. I'd met a monster tonight, and Edward certainly was not him.
We both looked up suddenly as the man I recognized as Dr. Cullen walked into the room then, offering me a smile and nodding to his son.
"I'm glad to see you're awake, Miss Irving. How are you feeling? Any memory loss or difficulty breathing?" He looked at my chart, and then leaned down to check my pupils, seeming pleased at the result. I decided to be honest, I had no idea how roofies could have affected me after the drugging part.
"Tired, thirsty, hungover. Nothing too bad, no pain, no memory loss as far as I can tell. A little nauseous, but I can't tell if that's the hangover or the...drugs." I sighed.
"You seem to be very lucky, you didn't get the whole dose it would seem, and when you got sick you purged what wasn't processed. You might feel drowsy and low for about eight to twelve hours, but other than that I can't see anything to be concerned about medically. I'm very, very glad you're alright." He gave me the kindest smile I'd ever seen, and it dazzled me for a moment, making me stutter.
"I-I am very lucky, Edward says he's not, but I think he might be Superman." I chuckled, and Dr. Cullens eyes sparkled in a way I couldn't recognise. "And thank you so much, Dr. Cullen. I hope the next time I see you it's under different circumstances." I laughed in embarrassment, and he chuckled too. Edward was silent, looking at the ground as the Doctor came around to carefully remove my IV, helping me press the cotton down tightly as he removed the needle and bandaged me up.
"I'll take her for something to eat, Carlisle." Edwards voice was nearly inaudible, but he and his father shared a long look before Edward nodded and stood.
"Sounds like a good idea. Get home safe you two, if you have any problems come back and see us alright?" I nodded, moving to slowly put my feet over the edge of the bed. I was even wearing socks. But I suddenly realized my shoes situation was not exactly great. "Oh, crap. Do you guys have any flip flops or anything in the lost and found?" I cringed again. My feet were tiny, so whatever was there wouldn't fit well, but at least it was better than pumps. Carlisle chuckled as Edward stood, waving something white at me.
"I figured you'd want different shoes." They looked brand new. White tennis shoes, I recognized the Keds logo.
"You...bought me shoes?" I gawked a little, about to protest but he held up a hand.
"They sell them for the nurses, nothing grandiose."
"Still.." He knelt down slowly, untying the right one and looking up at me.
"...May I help?" I went neon again, and clammed up, my heart suddenly racing as his eyes smoldered into mine. He had a strange, longing expression I couldn't place, but it made me feel...tingly. I gaped like a fish for a moment, then snapped my mouth shut, only nodding in response, I couldn't say no.
Gently he helped me slip my feet into the tennis shoes and tied them for me, offering me an arm to help me up. I took it, and caught my balance, still too shy to say anything.
"Thank you...again." For the thousandth time.
"Um, is it alright if I used the restroom, before we go? Just so I can...clean up a little." He nodded as though he was surprised I needed to ask.
"Of course, it's right over here. I'll wait for you outside the room." I gave him a small smile that I hoped looked thankful as I stepped into the little bathroom and shut the door. The girl in the mirror looked absolutely ridiculous, hair a massive tangle, makeup smeared with tears. I sighed. Wonderful. That added new context to the conversation I just had. I peeled off the false lashes and tossed them into the garbage, filling my hand with hand soap to scrub as much of the makeup off that I could.
My skin would be dry, but in that moment I didn't care. I dried my face once I looked at least semi-presentable. Finally grabbing a small, cheap, pre packaged little hair brush from one of the drawers. Tearing the plastic, I untied my hair and wet the brush, pulling it through the knots so I could put it into a ponytail on the back of my head. Leaning back, I felt a lot better. My face still looked like I'd had a rough night, but I had, so I could live with that. I peed and brushed my teeth too, getting the taste of vomit out of my mouth, happy to be minty again. Finally I walked out, where Edward was waiting. He offered me a relieved looking smile, handing me my purse.
"It was pretty bad, huh." I grinned back at him, finding myself less and less embarrassed about tonight. He slung something dark over my shoulders, and I realized it was his jacket.
"Very Helena Bonham Carter."
"Or Edward Scizzorhands."
He laughed again, and we walked to the counter to check out and then he led me to his car.
"So, diner food?"
"Have you ever been to Denny's?"
He grinned and shook his head.
"I can't say I have, Denny's it is then." The drive was quiet, and shockingly comfortable. I messaged Kain that I was alright and going out to Denny's, he was most likely out too. The hostess looked completely lost as we walked into the little yellow restaurant, eyes darting between the living ad for Tommy Hilfiger mens sweaters and the escaped mental patient in his jacket. I almost laughed, I felt I'd make the same face were I in her shoes.
"Could we get a table for two? Somewhere a little private?" He asked warmly, flashing her a smile that almost knocked her backwards.
"U-uh, sure, ah, welcome to Denny's." She sounded as surprised as I was. She turned and led us around a partition to a small ring of booths — all of them empty. "How's this?"
"Perfect." He flashed his gleaming smile, dazing her momentarily.
"Um" — she shook her head, blinking — "your server will be right out." She walked away unsteadily.
"You really shouldn't do that to people," I criticized. "It's hardly fair."
"Do what?"
"Dazzle them like that — she's probably hyperventilating in the kitchen right now."
He seemed confused.
"Oh, come on," I said dubiously. "You have to know the effect you have on people. You do it to me constantly at the cafe." I got myself comfy, looking to the menu to pull it closer to me, wondering which Grand Slam looked appetizing to my gurgling stomach.
He tilted his head to one side, and his eyes were curious. "I dazzle people?"
"You haven't noticed?" I looked up at him again, eyebrows raised, he didn't look like he was aware, I was shocked.
He ignored my questions. "I dazzle you?"
"Yeah, when I'm looking at you like I just forgot my own name? That's me dazzled." I smiled at him a little, still sounding hoarse.
And then our server arrived, her face expectant. The hostess had definitely gone back to gush about The Prince and The Frog, and this new girl didn't look disappointed. She stroked her straight blonde hair over her shoulder and smiled with unnecessary warmth.
"Hello. My name is Amber, and I'll be your server tonight. Can I get you started with some..coffee?" She glanced at me at that. I didn't miss that she was speaking only to him.
He looked at me.
"Coffee sounds awesome, can you also bring half n' half? A lot of it please." I stayed pleasant, mostly because, well, I was in the same flabbergasted boat she was.
"Two mugs please, half n' half for me as well."
"I'll be right back with that," she assured him with another unnecessary smile. But he didn't see it. He was watching me.
"What?" I asked when she left.
His eyes stayed fixed on my face. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine," I replied, surprised by his intensity.
"You don't feel dizzy, sick, cold… ?"
"No, I'm just tired really, but I honestly can't tell what part about tonight is causing it. Coffee will help."
"Most likely a blend, Just the same, I'll feel better when you have some sugar and food in you."
Right on cue, the waitress appeared with our carafe of Coffee and a tray with mugs and creamer. She filled the two mugs in front of her and placed the dishes of half n' half down too. I thanked her quietly, nearly sighing with relief as I grabbed about six packets of sugar and shook them, tearing them open to pour into the black liquid.
"Are you ready to order?" she asked Edward.
"Eva?" he asked. She turned unwillingly toward me.
I paused in my pouring of the half n' half, glancing back to the menu beside me.
"I'll just have an original Grand Slam, uh, wheat bread, over easy eggs, sausage." I stammered it out quickly, pulling my spoon out of my roll of silverware to mix my coffee, too anxious to get the warm drink into me to really care about anything else.
"And you?" She turned back to him with a smile.
"Nothing for me," he said. Of course not.
"Let me know if you change your mind." The coy smile was still in place, but he wasn't looking at her, and she left dissatisfied.
I was already sipping my coffee, eyes closed in bliss. I nearly moaned as the warm liquid passed down my throat, warming me up from the inside. He chuckled across the table, watching me shiver involuntarily as the warm started to help my tense muscles relax.
"Are you cold?"
"A little, I won't be for long though. There is nothing better than cheap diner coffee." I praised, taking another slow sip.
I looked across to him then, evaluating, well, us, what we must look like. I glanced down at his clothes, quietly enjoying the heat of the drink. It was hard to look away from his face. I made myself look now, focusing. He was wearing an ivory turtleneck sweater. It fit him snugly, emphasizing how muscular his chest was.
He spoke then, interrupting my ogling.
"You clean up surprisingly well for what you've gone through tonight." He chuckled at me, seeming to be doing the same thing I was. "And, very relaxed." he mused.
"I feel very safe with you," I confessed, looking up at his face again, a little flushed.
That displeased him; his alabaster brow furrowed. He shook his head, frowning.
"Usually you're in a better mood when your eyes are so light," I commented, trying to distract him from whatever thought had left him frowning and somber.
He stared at me, stunned. "What?"
"You're always crabbier when your eyes are black — I expect it then," I went on. "I have a hypothesis about that."
His eyes narrowed. "A hypothesis?"
"Mm-hm." I sipped my coffee again, elbows on the table, cradling my cup, trying to sound indifferent.
"I hope you were more creative this time… or are you still stealing from comic books?" His faint smile was mocking; his eyes were still tight.
"Well, no, I didn't get it from a comic book, but I didn't come up with it on my own, either," I confessed.
"And?" he prompted.
But then the waitress strode around the partition with my food. I realized we'd been unconsciously leaning toward each other across the table, because we both straightened up as she approached. She set the dish in front of me and turned quickly to Edward.
"Did you change your mind?" she asked. "Isn't there anything I can get you?" I may have been imagining the double meaning in her words.
"No, thank you, but some fresh coffee would be nice." He gestured with a long white hand to the now empty mug I set down.
"Sure." She put on her retail face and grabbed the carafe to pour me another cup. Edward watched me with a bizarre level of interest as I performed my little sugar and cream ritual again.
"You were saying?" he asked.
"Well, like any good hypothesis, I need to test it, and it's shaky at best, my background research seems lacking."
I took a sip of my coffee again.
His eyes were holding mine with almost suspicion. "Test, how?"
"Honestly I was just going to ask you some questions, but you have to promise to answer me honestly, I want accurate data points."
He looked disgruntled then, voice hard. "Alright, I promise. What are your questions?"
"What brought you downtown tonight?"
He looked down, folding his large hands together slowly on the table. His eyes flickered up at me from under his lashes, the hint of a smirk on his face.
"Next."
"But that's the easiest one," I objected.
"Next," he repeated.
I looked down, frustrated. I unrolled my silverware, picked up my fork, and began to cut up my pancakes into triangles.
I took a couple slow bites, also monitoring my stomach, taking another sip of coffee while I considered my next question. I thought back on his odd behavior with others, how he'd mentioned he was good at reading others. This question was just as insane as the others, so I sighed and tossed it out.
"Okay, then." I glared at him, and continued slowly. "Let's say, hypothetically of course, that… someone… could know what people are thinking, read minds, you know — with a few exceptions."
"Just one exception," he corrected, "hypothetically."
"All right, with one exception, then." I was thrilled that he was playing along, but I tried to seem casual.
"How does that work? What are the limitations? How would… that someone… find someone else at exactly the right time? How would he even know she was in trouble?" I wondered if my convoluted questions even made sense.
"Hypothetically?" he asked.
"Sure."
"Well, if… that someone…"
"Let's call him 'John Doe,'" I suggested.
He smiled wryly. "John, then. If John had been paying attention, the timing wouldn't have needed to be quite so exact." He shook his head, his eyes narrowing and the smile falling from his face. Looking out the window as his jaw tensed.
"How did you know?" I asked, outright, putting down my coffee and leaning towards him, resting my arms on the table.
He seemed to be wavering, torn by some internal dilemma. His eyes locked with mine, and I saw the turmoil between his promise of honesty and his...fear.
"You can trust me, you know," I murmured. I reached forward, without thinking, to touch his folded hands, but he slid them away minutely, and I pulled my hand back.
"I don't know if I have a choice anymore." His voice was almost a whisper. "I was wrong — you're much more observant than I gave you credit for."
"I thought you were always right."
"I used to be." He shook his head again. "I was wrong about you on one other thing, as well. You're not a magnet for accidents — that's not a broad enough classification. You are a magnet for trouble. If there is anything dangerous within a ten-mile radius, it will invariably find you."
"And you put yourself into that category?" I guessed.
His face turned cold, expressionless. "Unequivocally."
I stretched my hand across the table again — ignoring him when he pulled back slightly once more — to touch the back of his hand shyly with my fingertips. They cooled against his skin nearly instantly.
"Thank you." My voice was fervent with gratitude. "That's twice now."
His face softened. "Let's not try for three, agreed?"
I scowled, but nodded. He moved his hand out from under mine, placing both of his under the table.
But he leaned toward me.
"I followed you into town," he admitted, speaking in a rush. "I've never tried to keep a specific person...alive before, and it's much more troublesome than I would have believed. But that's probably just because it's you. Ordinary people seem to make it through the day without so many catastrophes."
He paused. I wondered if it should bother me that he was following me; instead I felt a strange surge of pleasure. He stared, maybe wondering why my lips were curving into an involuntary smile. So he was curious too?
"Did you ever think that maybe my number was up the first time, with the van, and that you've been interfering with fate?" I speculated, distracting myself. "Like Final Destination?"
"That wasn't the first time," he said, and his voice was hard to hear. I stared at him in amazement, but he was looking down. "Your number was up the first time I met you."
I felt a spasm of fear at his words, and the abrupt memory of his violent black glare that first day… but the overwhelming sense of safety I felt in his presence stifled it. By the time he looked up to read my eyes, there was no trace of fear in them.
"You remember?" he asked, his statuesque face grave.
"Yes." I was calm.
"And yet here you sit." There was a trace of disbelief in his voice; he raised one eyebrow.
"Yes, here I sit… because of you." I paused. "Because somehow you knew how to find me tonight… ?" I prompted.
He pressed his lips together, staring at me through narrowed eyes, deciding again. His eyes flashed down to my full plate, and then back to me.
"You eat, I'll talk," he bargained.
I quickly speared a sausage and popped it in my mouth.
"It's harder than it should be — keeping track of you. Usually I can find someone very easily, once I've heard their mind before." He looked at me anxiously, and I realized I had frozen. I made myself swallow, then ate some more pancakes.
"I was keeping tabs on Jessica, not carefully — like I said, only you could find trouble in a group of four girls in this town — and at first I didn't notice when you were no longer with them. Then, when I realized that you weren't with the group anymore, I went looking for you inside the bar. I could tell that you had been sitting at the bar, and I saw the bartender sweeping up the glass."
"I could see…" he grew angry again. "The rohypnol in the spill. I asked the bartender where you'd gone and he told me: "Her boyfriend carried her out of here, she was dead on her feet." I'd...never been so anxious. But I left the bar, I could tell you'd been going east." He was lost in thought, staring past me, seeing things I couldn't imagine.
"I started to walk in that direction, touching peoples minds to see if they had seen you, and no one had, then I got closer to the alley."
The rage in his eyes deepened then. It was pure fury, I'd never seen anyone so angry as his fists clenched.
"Then what?" I whispered. He continued to stare over my head.
"I heard your voice, you nearly screamed my name, and I knew you were down the alley. Then I heard what that mongrel was thinking, what he was doing," he growled, his upper lip curling slightly back over his teeth. "I saw your face in his mind." He suddenly leaned forward, one elbow appearing on the table, his hand covering his eyes. The movement was so swift it startled me.
"It was very… hard — you can't imagine how hard — for me to simply take you away, and leave him… alive." His voice was muffled by his arm. "But, you called out to me, you sounded so frightened, and I knew I needed to take you to the hospital. You were sick, and then I carried you to my car."
I sat quietly, dazed, my thoughts incoherent. My hands were folded in my lap, and I was leaning weakly against the back of the seat. He still had his face in his hand, and he was as still as if he'd been carved from the stone his skin resembled.
Finally he looked up, his eyes seeking mine, full of his own questions.
He was no monster. I saw the disgust in his eyes, in his tone. I felt myself reaching for my coffee then and taking another sip.
"Alright...Thank you, I have another question."
He steeled himself, again staring at me, as though he was waiting for me to book it screaming. But I only looked up at him, my own eyes hard, my voice low and as quiet as possible.
"Say John Doe was not a member of the genus "Homo Sapiens"." I saw him flinch, but I needed to know. "How could we tell if he was something...preternatural, or simply an evolution. If he was something, beyond human. What category would he put himself in?"
He stared at me again now, considering the question. "By the definitions of those words, I believe he would put himself in a little bit of both."
"Now, say that the background research provided information that his species required a…" I used his words, but looked into my coffee, feeling my heart pound as all of this began to come together. "Special diet. And that research provided what that diet consisted of, but you couldn't find any information that said that he was actually following the diet the background research defined. Not even in a several hundred mile radius. What would you theorize was his diet,..instead?"
His eyes felt like a thunderstorm. The world was gone to us aside from this moment, everything was his face now.
"I would consider what the original diet...provided, and look for alternatives that met those needs, perhaps it would be...Animal based."
It was clear now, He knew exactly what I was getting at and I put my mug on the table to not let him see how my hands were shaking.
"...Thank you." I murmured, staring at my coffee, I did a quick once over of myself, I was shocked that there was no fear, no urge to panic and run away. This man was not a monster. This man would have hurt me by now if he wanted to. I was...excited.
I looked him in the eye then, giving him an easy, polite smile, as though I was talking with a colleague.
"I believe I have enough data points to form a complete Hypothesis, but perhaps we should be somewhere even more private for discussion on it."
"...would you like a ride home, Miss Irving?"
"I would, Mr. Cullen."
We were so encased in our own little world it was actually a struggle to readjust myself, bring myself back to where we were. Especially how it contrasted with the conversation. Edward stood first, throwing down a bill on the table, I tried to protest but he waved me along. I had to jog to catch up, turning to see the waitress gaping at the hundred dollar bill in her hand. When I got outside, he was already by the car, leaning against the hood. He opened the passenger door for me silently. His expression was entirely unreadable. I slid in, and he was in the driver's seat before I was even able to shut the door, starting the car. We pulled out, and onto the road, moving far faster than we needed too. I felt myself grow anxious.
"Now," he said significantly, "Explain your hypothesis."
"...Can I ask just one more question?" I was still nervous to say it out loud, regardless of how much evidence I had, as Edward accelerated much too quickly down the quiet street.
He didn't seem to be paying any attention to the road.
He sighed.
"One," he agreed. His lips pressed together into a cautious line.
"Well… how did you know where he'd brought me? You said you could tell I had left the club, and not alone...that you could tell something more than alcohol was involved.."
He looked away, deliberating.
"I thought we were past all the evasiveness," I gently urged, wrapping my arms around my own waist, clutching his jacket tighter around me.
He almost smiled.
"Fine, then. I followed your scent." He looked at the road, giving me time to compose my face. I couldn't think of an acceptable response to that, but I filed it carefully away for future study. I tried to refocus.
I wasn't ready to let him be finished, now that he was finally explaining things.
"And then you didn't answer one of my first questions…" I stalled.
He looked at me with disapproval. "Which one?"
"How does it work — the mind-reading thing? Can you read anybody's mind, anywhere? How do you do it? Can the rest of your family… ?" I felt silly, asking for clarification on something so outside the realm of what I had, only this morning, thought to be fantasy.
"That's more than one," he pointed out. I tightened my grip on the jacket, I didn't want to admit to hoping to keep him talking for as long as possible. I stared at him, hesitant to defend myself but also hoping he would answer.
"...No, it's just me. And I can't hear anyone, anywhere. I have to be fairly close. The more familiar someone's… 'voice' is, the farther away I can hear them. But still, no more than a few miles." He paused thoughtfully. "It's a little like being in a huge hall filled with people, everyone talking at once. It's just a hum — a buzzing of voices in the background. Until I focus on one voice, and then what they're thinking is clear."
"Most of the time I tune it all out — it can be very distracting. And then it's easier to seem normal" —he frowned as he said the word — "when I'm not accidentally answering someone's thoughts rather than their words."
"Why do you think you can't hear me?" I asked softly, feeling confusing relief wash over me.
He looked at me, his eyes enigmatic.
"I don't know," he murmured. "The only guess I have is that maybe your mind doesn't work the same way the rest of theirs do. Like your thoughts are on the AM frequency and I'm only getting FM." He grinned at me, suddenly amused.
"...I guess that figures, but, surely there have been others on the spectrum around you before..." The words bothered me more than they should — probably because his speculation hit home. I'd always suspected as much, and it embarrassed me to have it confirmed.
"You're right, I have been able to hear others on the spectrum, so I don't believe it's that. It's an untested theory certainly..." he laughed, then glanced to me, his face tightened. "Which brings us back to you."
I sighed. How to begin?
"Aren't we past all the evasions now?" he reminded me softly.
I looked away from his face for the first time, trying to find words. I happened to notice the speedometer.
"Holy shit Edward!" I shouted. "Slow down!"
"What's wrong?" He was startled. But the car didn't decelerate.
"You're going a hundred miles an hour!" I was still shouting. I shot a panicky glance out the window, but it was too dark to see much. The road was only visible in the long patch of bluish brightness from the headlights. The forest along both sides of the road was like a black wall — as hard as a wall of steel if we veered off the road at this speed.
"Relax, Eva." He relaxed into his seat and chuckled, glancing at me with something like mirth in his eyes, still not slowing.
"Look, I'm all for an adrenaline rush, but tonight has been a LOT and I am NOT looking for another near death experience!" my knuckles were white, gripping onto the sides of my seat, nearly hyperventilating now.
He seemed to slow almost immediately as he noticed my breathing and anxiety, my wet eyes slightly opening to be sure that he had, slowing my breath when we were going a far more rational speed. It was only then I noticed my leg was bouncing doubletime, almost jumping in an effort to keep me from melting down. I glanced to him and his eyes were upset, worried, watching me, his hand outstretched as though to try and help.
"I-I apologize, I'm just, that's how I always drive.." I was finally able to regulate my breathing again, pulling his coat tight enough to squeeze myself in it, slumping into my seat.
"Normally I'd be thrilled, just...not, tonight." I gave him an apologetic wince, and his face fell further, but he turned his eyes back to the road, letting me collect myself a little more.
"I'm still waiting for this hypothesis."
The distraction put another pit into my stomach. I bit my lip. He looked down at me, his honey eyes unexpectedly gentle. We sat in silence for another moment before he turned to me again.
"I won't laugh," he promised.
"I'm more afraid that you'll be angry with me."
"Is it that bad?"
"I mean, it's as bad as aliens."
He waited. I was looking down at my hands, so I couldn't see his expression.
"Go ahead." His voice was calm.
"I don't know how to start," I admitted.
"Why don't you start at the beginning… you said you didn't come up with this on your own."
"No."
"What got you started — a book? A movie?" he probed.
"No — it was at the bar crawl, at a pub." I risked a glance up at his face. He looked puzzled.
"I ran into an old family friend —Jacob Black," I continued. "His dad and my dad have been friends since I was a baby."
He still looked confused.
"His dad owns the Rose and Thorn...on 5th?" I watched him carefully. His confused expression froze in place.
"He was bartending, and your family name came up.. —" I edited all my scheming and terrible attempts at flirting out of the story "— and he was telling me some old Irish legends — trying to scare me, I think. He told me one…" I hesitated.
"Go on," he said.
"...About Fair Folk that drank human blood, vampires." I realized I was whispering. I couldn't look at his face now. But I saw his knuckles tighten convulsively on the wheel.
He was silent, staring at the road.
I was worried suddenly, worried about protecting Jacob.
"He just thought it was a silly superstition," I said quickly. "He didn't expect me to think anything of it."
It didn't seem like enough; I had to confess. "R-really it was my fault, I forced him to tell me."
"Why?"
"Lauren said something about you — she was trying to provoke me. And his father got upset, said your family didn't come around his pub, only it sounded like he meant something different. I'd had a couple drinks and got...courageous, I...I flirted at him until he finally gave in," I admitted, hanging my head.
He was silent for a moment, then laughed, but his eyes remained steely.
"I'd like to have seen that." He chuckled darkly. "And you accused me of dazzling people — poor Jacob Black."
I blushed and looked out my window into the night.
"What did you do then?" he asked after a minute.
"I did some research, looked up folklore about...the Fair Folk.."
"And did that convince you?" His voice sounded barely interested. But his hands were clamped hard onto the steering wheel.
"Not quite, I'm such a skeptic. I made a list of things that I knew...about you, and found what fit the best. It still wasn't...perfect. But, I saw you toss out your drink at the bar, you never eat at lunch, didn't touch your coffee...the...evidence seemed to be piling up in that hypothesis' favor."
I mumbled, spilling my guts.
"I um...wondered if there was other evidence. The legends said these...beings...drank human blood. All the legends say the person they drank from would die, so I made the logical leap, er, well, as logical as any of this is, that if that were the case, there would be an odd amount of missing humans in a hundred mile radius of Pullman. I looked it up and...there wasn't. I could only assume if this hypothesis was correct, that you must use...an alternative."
The confidence in my voice faltered entirely, I fiddled with my hands now.
"That..fit better. That was the point I think...I knew. I knew you were not...human. But you're also not a monster, so in the end it...it didn't matter." I whispered.
"It didn't matter?" His tone made me look up — I had finally broken through his carefully composed mask. His face was incredulous, with just a hint of the anger I'd feared.
"No," I said softly. "It doesn't matter to me what you are."
A hard, mocking edge entered his voice. "You don't care if I'm a monster? If I'm not human!"
"No." I shook my head just slightly, eyes searching his, shrinking a little back into my seat, not out of fear of him, but fear of...rejection?
He was silent, staring straight ahead again. His face was bleak and cold.
"...I knew you'd be upset...I should have kept my mouth shut…" It came out as a lament, my eyes stinging.
"No," he said, but his tone was as hard as his face. "I'd rather know what you're thinking — even if what you're thinking is insane."
"...So I'm wrong?" I looked up at him, still nervous, but inquisitive.
"That's not what I was referring to. 'It doesn't matter'!" he quoted, gritting his teeth together.
"I'm...right?" I couldn't help but widen my eyes, my world now expanding immeasurably.
"Does it matter?"
I took a deep breath.
"...No...Not really." I paused. "But I am curious." My voice, at least, was composed.
He was suddenly resigned. "What are you curious about?"
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-Two," he answered promptly.
"And how long have you been twenty-two?"
His lips twitched as he stared at the road. "A while," he admitted at last.
"Okay." I smiled, pleased that he was still being honest with me. He stared down at me with watchful eyes, much as he had before, when he was worried I would go into shock. I smiled wider in encouragement, and he frowned.
"Don't laugh — but um...how can you come out during the daytime?"
He laughed anyway. "Myth."
"Burned by the sun?"
"Myth."
"Sleeping in coffins?"
"Myth." He hesitated for a moment, and a peculiar tone entered his voice. "I can't sleep."
It took me a minute to absorb that. "At all?"
"Never," he said, his voice nearly inaudible. He turned to look at me with a wistful expression. The golden eyes held mine, and I lost my train of thought. I stared at him until he looked away.
"You haven't asked me the most important question yet." His voice was hard now, and when he looked at me again his eyes were cold.
I blinked, still dazed. "Which one is that?"
"Would you like confirmation on your "diet" Theory?" he asked sarcastically.
"Oh," I murmured, "that."
"Yes, that." His voice was bleak. "Don't you want to know if I drink human blood?"
"Yes, I do, but our earlier conversation, and my small amount of digging have me pretty convinced of the answer...You drink from animals instead." I looked to him firmly. He remained silent, looking out at the road. But his shoulders relaxed.
I took it as a confirmation.
"Don't let that make you complacent, though," he warned me. "The Black family is right to keep their distance from us. We are still dangerous."
"I don't understand."
"We try," he explained slowly. "We're usually very good at what we do. Sometimes we make mistakes. Me, for example, allowing myself to be alone with you."
"This is a...mistake?" I heard the sadness in my voice, but I didn't know if he could as well.
"A very dangerous one," he murmured.
We were both silent then. I watched the headlights twist with the curves of the road. They moved too fast; it didn't look real, it looked like a video game. I was aware of the time slipping away so quickly, like the black road beneath us, and I was hideously afraid that I would never have another chance to be with him like this again — openly, the walls between us gone for once. His words hinted at an end, and I recoiled from the idea. I couldn't waste one minute I had with him.
"Tell me more," I asked desperately, not caring what he said, just so I could hear his voice again.
He looked at me quickly, startled by the change in my tone. "What more do you want to know?"
"Tell me why you hunt animals instead of people," I suggested, my voice still tinged with desperation. I realized my eyes were wet, and I fought against the grief that was trying to overpower me, but I couldn't stop a tear from falling, quickly reaching up to try and scrub it from my face. He hesitated, something like anxiety in his expression.
"I don't want to be a monster." His voice was very low.
"But animals aren't enough?"
He paused. "I can't be sure, of course, but I'd compare it to living on tofu and soy milk; we call ourselves vegetarians, our little inside joke. It doesn't completely satiate the hunger — or rather thirst. But it keeps us strong enough to resist. Most of the time." His tone turned ominous. "Sometimes it's more difficult than others."
"Is it very difficult for you now?" I asked.
He sighed. "Yes."
"But you're not hungry now," I stated, not asking.
"Why do you think that?"
"Your eyes. I-...I told you I had a theory. I've noticed that people — men in particular — are crabbier when they're hungry."
He seemed to blink at that, then chuckled. "You are observant, aren't you?"
I didn't answer; I just listened to the sound of his laugh, committing it to memory.
"Were you hunting this week, with Emmett?" I asked when it was quiet again.
"Yes." He paused for a second, as if deciding whether or not to say something. "I didn't want to leave, but it was necessary. It's a bit easier to be around you when I'm not thirsty."
"Why didn't you want to leave?"
"It makes me… anxious… to be away from you." His eyes were gentle but intense, and they seemed to be making my bones turn soft. "I wasn't joking when I asked you to stay out of trouble. I was distracted all week, worrying about you. And after what happened tonight, I'm surprised that you did make it through a whole week unscathed." He shook his head, and then seemed to remember something. "Well, not totally unscathed."
"What?"
"Your hands," he reminded me. I looked down at my palms, at the almost-healed scrapes across the heels of my hands. His eyes missed nothing.
"I fell," I sighed.
"That's what I thought." His lips curved up at the corners. "I suppose, being you, it could have been much worse — and that possibility tormented me the entire time I was away. It was a very long three days. I really got on Emmett's nerves." He smiled ruefully at me.
"Three days? Didn't you just get back today?"
"No, we got back Wednesday."
"Then why weren't you responding to my texts?" I was confused, and a little miffed, remembering how disappointed I'd been.
"Well, you asked if the sun hurt me, and it doesn't. But I can't go out in the sunlight in public — at least, not where anyone can see."
"Why?"
"I'll show you sometime," he promised.
I thought about it for a moment.
"You could have texted me," I decided.
He was puzzled. "But I knew you were safe."
"But I didn't know where you were. I —" I hesitated, dropping my eyes.
"What?" His velvety voice was compelling.
"I didn't like it. Not seeing you. It makes me anxious, too. Especially when it feels like you just...ghosted me." I blushed to be saying this out loud.
He was quiet. I glanced up, apprehensive, and saw that his expression was pained.
"Ah," he groaned quietly. "This is wrong."
I couldn't understand his response. "What did I say?"
"Don't you see, Eva? It's one thing for me to make myself miserable, but a wholly other thing for you to be so involved." He turned his anguished eyes to the road, his words flowing almost too fast for me to understand. "I don't want to hear that you feel that way." His voice was low but urgent. His words cut me. "It's wrong. It's not safe. I'm dangerous, Eva — please, grasp that."
"I understand that, but-"
"I'm serious," he growled.
I bit my lip as I winced, wringing my hands in my lap and was glad he couldn't know how much that hurt. I stared out at the road. We must be close now.
"What are you thinking?" he asked, his voice still raw. I just shook my head, not sure if I could speak.
I could feel his gaze on my face, but I kept my eyes forward.
"Are you crying?" He sounded appalled. I hadn't realized the moisture in my eyes had brimmed over again. I quickly rubbed my hand across my cheek, and sure enough, traitor tears were there, betraying me.
"No," I said, but my voice cracked.
I saw him reach toward me hesitantly with his right hand, but then he stopped and placed it slowly back on the steering wheel.
"I'm sorry." His voice burned with regret. I knew he wasn't just apologizing for the words that had upset me.
The darkness slipped by us in silence.
"Tell me something," he asked after another minute, and I could hear him struggle to use a lighter tone.
"Yes?"
"What were you thinking tonight, just before I came around the corner? You were...I know you couldn't have been focused, but you were...It seemed like you were getting ready to do something."
I cringed, at the memory, his foggy face once again filling my head, the feeling of helplessness, the desperation.
"I..I was trying to build up my courage to try and fight him off…My mace wasn't with me."
His knuckles tightened on the steering wheel.
"You didn't...scream. You didn't try to tell anyone where you were, but you were going to...try to punch him? What exactly was your plan after?" He looked frustrated, as though I'd answered wrong. I felt my temper flare a little.
"I wasn't exactly thinking straight you know? I just wanted him off of me, you try getting...roofied." I started bouncing my leg again, the anger in my voice audible now, turning my attention back out the window. I felt sick now, trying to shove the memory away again.
I could feel him slump beside me, and hear his hand run through his hair. I turned to him again, remorse and anger in his face.
"I'm...sorry. That was...I don't want you to think that it was your fault…of course you'd try to fight him," He groaned, running his hand through his hair again.
"You had every right to defend yourself...I'm...frustrated with...myself that you'd...had to." I stared at him as he threw me an apologetic glance.
"You can't protect me from everything. You and I both know that would be impossible." I mumbled.
He was silent then, unable to look at me. We were slowing, passing into the boundaries of the suburbs, It had taken less than twenty minutes.
I was jarred when we were in front of the apartment building. The lights were on in the fourth floor windows, my truck in its place, everything utterly normal. It was like waking from a dream. He stopped the car, but I didn't move.
I got out of the car, and he came to my side immediately, walking me to the door. As we stood outside, I realized I could hear the faint countdown from several TV's in the building. I pulled his jacket off, taking one last whiff.
"You can keep it — you don't have a jacket for tomorrow," he reminded me.
I handed it back to him. "I don't want to have to explain to Kain."
"Oh, right." He grinned.
I hesitated, my hand on the door handle, trying to prolong the moment.
"Eva?" he asked in a different tone — serious, but hesitant.
"Yes?" I turned back to him too eagerly.
"Will you promise me something?"
"Yes," I said, and instantly regretted my unconditional agreement. What if he asked me to stay away from him? I couldn't keep that promise.
"Bring your mace next time."
I had to laugh, looking up at him.
"Hey."
He looked surprised, finally meeting my eyes.
"Quit it...with the self flagellation. You're going to give yourself wrinkles." I half grinned at him, his eyes widening in shock, I could swear his jaw almost went slack. He finally blinked and then slumped, giving me a slight chuckle that turned into a laugh. When he looked back at me, his eyes almost sparkled.
"Sleep well," he said. His breath blew in my face, stunning me. It was the same exquisite scent that clung to his jacket, but in a more concentrated form.
I was unable to move, and he didn't seem to be able to either, both of us listening as the numbers counted down through the single digits, finally erupting in cheers loud enough to hear. I couldn't look away from his eyes in the low light, and only vaguely registered the fact that we were drifting together.
I registered the sound of fireworks in the distance as our lips touched gently, my eyes slipping closed. I felt his hands touch my waist so lightly, and I rest my hands on his shoulders. It felt like an eternity, but also felt like no time at all, before he pulled back slightly, his nose brushing mine. I opened my eyes and watched him step back slowly in the direction of his car.
"Happy New Year, Miss Irving."
"...Happy New Year, Mr. Cullen."
He waited till I had stumbled through the front door, and then I heard his engine quietly rev. I turned to watch the dark car disappear around the corner. I realized it was very cold.
I reached for the key mechanically, unlocked the door, and stepped inside, leaning against the glass door and using all of my strength to keep my knees from giving out now.
I managed to make it up to the fourth floor, unlocking the door to the dimly lit apartment and closing it behind me, pausing to lock both the door and the deadbolt, then the chain as well, that last click finally settling my stomach.
I turned to face the room, feeling the weight of the evening finally settling over my shoulders, how filthy I felt. I limped to the bathroom, turning the shower on as hot as it could possibly go. Stripping down in silence and leaving my ragged outfit and borrowed scrubs on the bathroom floor, I slipped inside and into the stream of the hot water, not even able to stand as I slumped to the floor of the shower, feeling what was left of my makeup run as I stared at the tile on the wall, unseeing.
Nothing seemed clear at first, but as I counted the sets of four, and breathed in the steam, a few certainties became evident.
About three things I was absolutely positive.
First, Edward Cullen was a vampire.
Second, part of him, and I was unsure how large a part, wanted my blood.
And third, I finally started to understand.
I was desperately, overwhelmingly in love with him.