A/N
I promised the girls in my group that 2,000 reviews would guarantee another update.
So here it is!
Massive thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed and rec'd this story.
13 days ago, I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I posted chapter 1 LOL.
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"So why didn't you just … ask me?" I can feel the emotion bubbling, threatening to rise. I try to swallow it, but I can't, grateful he can't see my face right now. He has no idea how much I wish he asked me. How much I long to turn up at school on his arm; him in a crisp, expensive suit, and me in my dress, the dress I love so much. I can see the way he'd smile at me and tell me I'm beautiful, the sparkle in his eye … it's excruciating.
"It's not that simple. Not for me."
"It's only as complicated as you make it."
Studying the grain on the door, I try not to turn towards him, but the pull is so strong. It always is. Fighting it is like swimming against a raging current and right now I'm losing. I'm drowning.
"I can't take you to the dance, Bella."
His words hit me like a freight train, crippling. I should have expected this, but it doesn't lessen the blow.
My legs feel heavy, I urge them to move forward, clinging to my resolve like it's my lifeline. I need to get out.
"I can't take you to the dance because I'm not allowed to!" His words cut through me, mid-step, my foot hitting the floor, heavy. I don't understand. "I'm not allowed to attend any dances." His words are quieter this time, resigned. I can tell he didn't want to tell me; he was hoping I wouldn't hear. But I did. Clear as day.
"That makes no sense." Finally, I turn my head to look at him over my shoulder. He hasn't moved an inch, but his face is pained, embarrassed.
He shrugs. "I'm not allowed," he reiterates.
"Why?"
A wry smile, silent huff. "I guess the teachers and principle don't want someone like me ruining what is sure to be a great night. I'm a liability."
"That's why you don't attend any after-school activities?" I'm not sure I'm doing a good job of hiding my surprise.
"Pretty much."
"There's more?" I ask, urging him on with raises brows.
Running his hand through his hair, his shoulders slump. "Yeah."
"Are you going to tell me?"
"Do I need to?" It's a plea. And I realise that if I push, he'll tell me all I want to know. He's an open book right now and I'm torn between taking advantage, giving him the benefit of the doubt, and getting the hell away from him.
I figure he owes me some answers though.
"Why are you telling me all this now? After everything you've done."
A deep sigh and he looks at his feet, pursing his lips. "Because I'm fucking crazy about you and it's tearing me apart."
"But …" I scowl. I can't believe his words despite the vehemence behind them. "You … you don't even like me, not really." His head snaps back, he looks at me as though I'm crazy, and that infuriates me. How can he blame me for thinking what I do? "You … you're fucking other people for a start!"
Eyebrows raised, his surprised expression remains. "Am I?"
Caught off guard, it's my turn to scoff. "Jessica? Connor? How can I believe you like me when you can't keep it in your pants long enough to get to know me!"
"I can assure you, I'm not fucking Jessica or Connor. Never have, nor do I ever intend to." My mind replays the times I've overheard them gossiping about Edward. Just before I can call him out, he speaks again. "I'm no saint, Bella. I fool around. But I don't take sex lightly, despite what you've been led to believe."
Everything I thought I knew is being turned around and I don't like it. I feel naive. I hate it. He's pulling me in again, and that always ends in pain. I almost don't want to know.
"You know what the worst part is?" he asks. When I look at him, urging him to continue, he groans. "There's no good way to say this … I … fuck. It's blow jobs, Bella. They suck my cock and I let them, and I fucking hate myself for it … but … at first it was a way to get you out of my head, and then …" he throws himself backwards on to the bed and if the situation wasn't so bleak, I'd probably find it funny. Fingertips in his eye sockets, he mumbles something I can't make out.
"What?" I ask, leaning forward like it will help me hear him better.
"I think of you!" He growls, rubbing his eyes. I'm pretty sure I gasp. Ew. "The whole fucking time I'm with them …"
"Why?" I don't believe him. I can't. I don't want to.
"Because I'm crazy about you, I told you! I can't get you out of my fucking head! You're driving me insane."
"Ah right, so this is my fault?" I can't hide the venom in my voice. Did he think I'd be flattered by his admission?
"No!" He sits, throwing his hands into the air, exasperated. "Of course it's not your fault. It's on me. I know that. I'm trying to explain … you consume me and I can't deal with that!"
"Why?" I push, my voice rising, matching his. "Help me understand!"
"Because you'll kill me!" He throws himself to his feet, anger and desperation flowing from him, wave upon wave. I take a step back. "If I lose you —and I will— I don't know how I'll come back from that! I'm so fucking tired of feeling this way. And if by some fucking miracle, you stand by me, what's to say I don't turn into my—" His voice cuts off, catching himself before he says something he seems to believe he'll regret. Voice lowered, head bowed, he takes a deep breath and deflects. "If I stop pushing you away, and you decide I'm not worth it … I can't even …"
I wish I knew where all these insecurities stemmed from, which is ironic, considering my own. I can't make any sense of what he's telling me, what he's not telling me. Who is he so terrified he'll turn into?
For a while, I watch him as he watches his feet, defeated. He's often larger than life, his very presence commanding and intimidating, but right how, he's neither of those things.
My heart breaks, but it's so guarded I can't decide what to do. Nothing makes sense.
All this time, he's been protecting himself, his own heart, terrified of himself and the demons that haunt him. He's gone about it the wrong way, from the very beginning; but so have I. There's so much pain we haven't even touched upon tonight, but there's so much we have, and I can't comprehend it all.
"Please don't go," he pleads eventually. "Not yet. It's late and … for a while, I just want to pretend we're not broken."
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A/N
Thank you for reading!
