Chapter 5 – Give and Take

Bella

"So, how long before your dad starts missing you?" Edward asked as I reentered the room after changing in the bathroom.

The clothes were gross and smelled like dirty boy B.O., but I did feel slightly bad about the dress, so I decided to suck it up.

"What do you mean?" I questioned, unsure what he was referring to.

"Should I go back to your house, or does it not matter?" he asked, condescendingly slow, as if he thought I was too stupid to comprehend the words he was saying.

How fucking dare him! Who the hell did he think he was anyway? Well, I had enough of his degrading bullshit.

"You know what, I'm tired of you talking down to me!" I snapped at him. "Normally, I wouldn't even waste my time being anywhere near you. You are so far below me; you should be graveling at my feet for even considering helping you."

"Pfft!" he laughed. "The word you're looking for is groveling, not graveling, and there is no way in hell I'd ever stoop that low. Money doesn't make you a better person, and trust me, it does absolutely nothing for you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I asked, assuming he was insulting me, yet again.

"Do you really want me to spell it out for you?" he challenged.

"Maybe," I said unsure.

"It means you're a bitch. People only like you because you're rich and they think they can get something out of you. As a basic human being, you fucking suck."

"And how would you know that?" I retorted defensively. "You don't know me. We haven't even really spoken since sixth grade."

"Sixth grade? Oh, you mean when you basically decided I wasn't good enough to be your friend anymore? Right. Like I would have wanted to hang out with you after learning what an entitled brat you actually are."

"Oh, you're still bitter because I didn't invite you to my birthday party that year, aren't you? Like, get over it already. I was only allowed to have so many people there. I had to cut some from my list."

"By some, you mean one. I was the only one from our friend group that wasn't invited. I even heard you guys talking about it at school and how I couldn't afford to bring you a good gift anyway. I knew then what a bitch you are, and no, I'm not still bitter. I could care less about you, except for the fact that you're in my body!"

"For someone who claims they're not still bitter about something that happened years ago, it seems to me that you are still holding in a lot of resentment about it," I countered.

"God, you are so fucking dense!"

Suddenly, there was a tapping on the bedroom door, but before either of us could respond, it cracked open.

"Baby, I'm sorry to interrupt, but can you try to not yell so loud?" his mother asked without even looking into the room. "Jimmy will be home soon, and you know how he gets about noise."

"Yeah, we'll keep it down," Edward said, not caring that he was using my voice to say it.

"Ok, thanks. Are you guys being safe? Do you need any condoms?" she asked, making me gasp in shock. Did she really just ask us that? Not only was the idea of it repulsive, but what kind of mother would ask such a question so brazenly?

"Tell her to fuck off," Edward demanded quietly.

"No, I'm not going to say that to your mother," I hissed back.

He rolled his eyes. "We're fine, Mrs. Masen," he told her. "Edward's condoms are still stocked full from the last box you bought him."

"Okay, we just don't want any teen pregnancies like I had," she said with a drunken giggle before closing the door again.

Edward let his eyes fall shut, as if he was embarrassed by his mother's words, and then he opened them again and refocused his glare on me. "We really do want to keep our voices down. Pissing off Jimmy is the last thing we need right now."

"Is Jimmy the dog?" I asked, still not knowing.

"More or less…. More like less," he said vaguely. "Look, let's try to stop fighting, at least for now. It's not getting us anywhere."

I sighed. "Agreed."

"So, when do you need to be home? Or, I guess I should say, when does your body need to be home?"

"I can text my housekeeper to say I'll be at my friend's house for the weekend, but then they'll start to get suspicious if I'm gone much longer. But, if I don't go home, where would I stay?"

"Um, you're me right now, so you'll stay here. We both will, so that way we can take the time to really talk everything out and get to know each other's lives as much as possible. I'll need to drive us everywhere anyway."

"Do you really think this is going to last long?" I whined. The thought of staying there with him was more than a little disturbing. The room stunk, and he was one of the biggest jerks I knew. I didn't want to be around him at all. I wanted to go home. But he was right, I certainly couldn't go home in his body, and it was better for everyone if he stayed away from there for as long as possible.

"We don't know when we'll change back," he told me. "We just have to endure it. Now, let's figure out our schedules. A little give and take is the only way we are going to make this work."

He sat at his cluttered desk and pulled out a pen and paper.

"We have our phones. Why don't we just put stuff on our calendars?" I questioned, wondering why he was resorting to something so primitive.

"I like writing stuff down," he replied. "I need to visualize it all. That's how I remember things."

"O-kay," I said, mostly to myself.

I paced the room as he made what looked like a huge list of everything he wanted me to know about his routine. I wasn't close enough to read any of it, but from where I was, it looked like a lot. I couldn't quite grasp how his lowly life could be that complicated. It wasn't like he had a booming social calendar.

My pacing eventually brought me back over to his music shelf that I had briefly explored before. "What is all of this?" I questioned curiously.

He paused his writing to glance my way. "My CDs?" he asked, sounding confused.

"What are CDs?" I asked clueless.

"CDs," he repeated frustrated. "Compact disks. Are you serious? You have no idea what CDs are?"

"I mean, they play music, right? Why don't you just listen to the songs you like on your phone? Or satellite?" I suggested, wondering why he would waste the space in his room for such nostalgic junk.

"I don't have satellite radio," he explained as he returned his attention to the paper in front of him. "And CD players sound way better than the speaker on my phone."

"You could always get a Bluetooth speaker," I pointed out.

He sighed but kept writing. "In my world, Princess, there are more important things to spend money on than Bluetooth speakers."

"Like ancient CDs?" I countered. "I'm just saying, for the price of all of these, you probably could have bought multiple speakers."

"Maybe, but I didn't buy any of those. Most were my dad's, and the rest I found in a dumpster," he admitted.

"Oh. Ew."

"Hey, one man's trash is another man's treasure."

"You call that a treasure?"

"Hell yes! Music is the only thing that drowns out all the shit flying around me all the time."

"Is that why you're in a band?" I questioned while tapping on a crinkled flyer for one of his gigs. "Vampire's Twilight?"

"Hey, I didn't pick the name of the band," he said with a light chuckle that I wasn't expecting. It was the first time he didn't sound like a raging prick.

"So… do you play the piano or something?" I asked, noticing the old keyboard in the corner of the room.

"No. Well, I mean, I can, and I do, but not for the band. I just do guitar."

"Oh, well let's hope you don't need to do a gig anytime soon. There is no way I could fake that."

"Nah, I was planning on quitting anyway. Here," he said while standing and handing me his list.

I skimmed through it. "Wow."

"I know it seems like a lot, but I think I'll be able to help you out with most of it. Now, how about yours?"

"Oh, right." I opened my phone that he had brought from my place that morning, and I saw that I had seven missed texts. "Jessica has been looking for me. Makes sense. She isn't home so she must be out cruising for something to do. She is lost without me."

"Sucks for her. What's your schedule?" he asked impatiently.

"Right. Aww, Mike sent me hearts. We got back together last night."

"Great. Schedule?"

"Okay, okay, I'm looking. Oh, I have a salon appointment this afternoon. That's actually perfect. I could use a good grooming," I said as I looked at my horridly matted hair on his head. How the hell he managed to get it so messed up in one morning is beyond me.

"Wait, you want me to…"

"Go to the salon. Yes. Look at myself. I need it so bad. Plus, this way you don't have to even worry about seeing me naked in the shower. They will give you the works, and everything will be sparkling by the time you leave there."

"What exactly do you mean by the works?" he asked warily.

"Oh, you know, a little of everything. I have it done at least once a month. They'll wash all of me, and make sure its baby soft," I told him vaguely. If I went into too much detail, he may not go.

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that," he grumbled.

"It's a salon, well, a salon spa. They'll even give you a little massage. It's great, you'll love it. I'm sure you've never felt so pampered in your whole life as you're about to feel."

His grimace expressed just how much he didn't believe me, but I shrugged it off. If I was going to work in a grocery store, ew, then he could certainly do this for me.

"Fine, whatever. What else?" he relented.

"Let's see," I said as I looked back at my phone calendar. "On Mondays and Wednesdays I have cheer practice. Oh, I volunteer at the old folks' home on Tuesdays. Don't worry, it's easy stuff. I mainly just paint nails and do their hair and things."

"Wait, you actually do something nice for someone else without getting anything in return?" he asked surprised.

"Well, yeah… I mean, we all have to do so many hours of community service to graduate."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course. Continue."

"Thursday nights are the Freshman Football games, which we have to go to. You know, for support and whatnot. Fridays we have our games and then always a party afterwards. I have more stuff I do in between there, but that's just what's on my official schedule."

"Right. I can see what you mean by how busy and complicated your life is," he said evenly. I think he meant it to be sarcastic, but I decided to take it as a genuine comment.

"Great. So, what conflicts with your schedule?" I questioned.

"All of it. Well, none of it, I guess. Nothing I can't work with anyway. Most of my hours of working are later than all of this. Except the grocery store, but I can just drop you off and then head over to do your shit."

"Wow, so we can really make this work? I'll have to teach you my cheer routines so you don't make a fool out of me." Judging by his disturbed expression, I rethought that statement. "Maybe I'll just fake a sprained ankle to get us out of it."

"Good thinking," he agreed.

"That's the closest you've come to saying a nice thing to me," I told him with a smile.

"Well, I'm generally a nice person… at least when people deserve it," he said, which sounded a hell of a lot like an underhanded insult, but it wasn't worth the argument.

"Okay, so it looks like the salon is first, but we have time to get something to eat before we go. I'm literally starving."

"I have a shift at the pizza parlor this evening. The owner usually lets me take some of the leftovers from the lunch buffet, but it won't be until after I'm done with the deliveries. You're going to have to wait," he said casually.

"Wait?" I asked confused. "Until tonight? To eat? My stomach is so empty it hurts."

He shrugged. "You'll get used to it."

My confusion only intensified.

"Get used to it? Like, not eating all day is normal for you?"

As much as I didn't like the guy, the idea of him being that hungry on a regular basis was a little jarring. I didn't think that sort of thing really happened; at least, not to anyone I knew.

"Weekends kind of suck," he explained. "It's easier during the week because I'm on that free meal program. Then I can usually eat dinner at the pizza parlor; or if I work at the grocery store, they let us take the expired stuff home for free. Hopefully, I can snag some stuff tomorrow when I work there, but Sundays are usually pretty picked over."

He spoke about his situation so casually – so matter of fact. He clearly didn't want sympathy, but that didn't stop me from feeling sorry for him. No one deserved to be hungry like that, not even jerks like him.

"Well, I don't want to wait that long to eat," I told him. I was about to offer to buy us both some food, but he took my comment the wrong way.

"Tough shit! You're not in your castle anymore, Princess. I can't just snap my fingers and have a meal appear. God, you're such an arrogant, entitled…"

"Don't call me a bitch again!" I cut him off. "I was just going to say that I have my credit card," I told him while sliding the card out of the holder attached to my phone case. "I'll buy us lunch."

"Buy yourself lunch," he said bitterly. "I don't want anything from you."

"Well, guess what, I don't want my body to be deprived of nutrients!" I snapped back.

He looked like he wanted to argue some more, but he must not have come up with anything that made sense. He could be pigheaded all he wanted, but he couldn't force me to stay hungry when I had the means to feed myself, and since he was in my body, he couldn't just starve me either.

"Are you craving anything in particular?" I asked with a slight gloat for my minor victory.

"No," he replied curtly.

"Well then, I guess it's up to me. Let's see… Oh, I know, let's go to the diner!"

Edward raised one of my perfectly sculpted brows. "The diner? As in, greasy trucker food that most chicks like you would never be caught dead eating?"

He was actually right, sort of. I would never want to be caught dead at that diner, but thankfully, none of my friends would either, which was why I knew we would be safe going there.

"Do you have a problem with the diner?"

"No, I'm just surprised you would eat there. Here I was expecting some kind of nasty vegan kale thing."

"I love a good diner burger," I told him honestly, having a hard time not smiling at the humorous bewilderment on my face looking back at me. "Are you going to drive us, or should I call my driver?" I challenged him.

"Whatever you want," he relented.

"Good, let's go."

I held on for dear life as he drove us like a bat out of hell through town in that rusty tin can. When we made it to the diner in one piece, I had a strong urge to fall to my knees and thank everything holy that we survived, but I held my ground. He already thought I was an idiot, and I refused to give him any more ammunition.

As predicted, the only people in the diner were old, so Edward and I were free from worrying about having to explain our presence together to anyone that mattered.

I had actually only ever been there a few times before with my dad, but I already knew exactly what I wanted to get. I wasn't sure what to expect when it came to Edward ordering food, but I certainly didn't anticipate was his bashfulness.

"I don't usually eat at places like this," he admitted after spending far too long looking over the menu.

I glanced at the cracked booth benches, stained tables, and questionably clean subway tiled walls. Surely, he didn't think that was fine dining.

"What kind of places do you usually eat at?" I asked, hoping he wasn't actually the vegan or something crazy like that.

"Uh, you know… not like this," he said, gesturing to the table between us and the waitress walking around. "The only sit-down restaurant I've ever been to is McDonalds. Though, I did briefly work here as a busboy last year. It all smelled really good, but they didn't let me eat after my shifts, and my ass was never allowed anywhere near these seats."

"Why did you only work here briefly?" I wondered.

"It was just a temporary job while the usual busboy was on vacation, or some shit like that. It was probably for the best; they didn't like me very much," he said while looking around nervously.

"Oh… Well, you're a customer now, so they better serve us right," I said, hoping they didn't see his face on me and spit in my food. "When you worked here before, did anything look good to you? Something you wanted to try?" I then asked as I returned my attention to the menu. "You really can order anything you want. I have a huge limit on my credit card."

He considered it for a minute. "I was always hungry, so everything looked good," he stated emotionlessly. He took another minute, and then put down the menu. "I don't know, it's all food. Why do they have so many options?"

"Because different people like different things. You know what, I'll just order for you," I said as I waved over the waitress. "We will both have the double bacon cheeseburger with extra bacon. Substitute the fries with a green salad please. Ranch, for both. Oh, and two chocolate milkshakes too! You know what, you better just give us the fries as well."

When the waitress jotted down our order and then left, Edward morphed my face into even more confusion. Or maybe it was disturbance. Confusion and disturbance, or somewhere in between. It was odd how I couldn't decipher my own facial expressions when he was controlling them.

"What?" I asked, feeling awkward under his stare.

"You can't possibly eat all of that?"

"Why do you say that?" I asked unsure.

"Because you're tiny and that's a shit ton of food. You could feed half my neighborhood with all that."

"Well, I'm hungry. And I may be tiny, but just wait and see; you'll do just fine fitting all of it into my stomach. I mean, I don't always eat like that, but this time of the month, it's necessary."

"This time of the month. What does that mean?" he asked warily.

"Oh, you know. My monthly. Aunt Flo is coming for a visit…" When he still looked at me clueless, I sighed. "My period will be here within the next couple of days," I explained bluntly. "I always get these huge cravings right before. But don't worry, the iron in the burger and the calcium in the milkshake will help tremendously."

Edward sat there like a statue for a long second, and then he pushed his napkin forward and said – "Nope. Fuck this shit."

"Where are you going?" I asked as he got up from the table.

"I don't know. A doctor, or a mental hospital, or somewhere they can sedate me until I wake back up in my own body. There is no way in hell I'm going to live through handling your period." His entire body quivered as he said 'period', as if the mere thought of it gave him the heebie-jeebies.

"Would you stop that and sit back down!" I growled quietly while looking around to see if anyone noticed his erratic behavior. "We still have a few days before it starts. We'll probably be switched back by then anyway."

"If you think we'll be switched back by then, why are you giving me your period meal?" he countered.

"You're going to have to at least deal with the PMS. Trust me, this meal will help. Now sit back down and wait for our food," I demanded.

He reluctantly complied, but he didn't say much as we waited. His face, my face, looked horrified as it remained fixed in a scared shitless trance. It was almost comical.

When the food arrived, he snapped out of it enough to eat, and I wasn't surprised when he finished the entire burger and the shake. My PMSing body always liked its food. As for my current anatomy, I somehow got full after just a few bites. With how starving I was before, I just didn't understand it.

"This is so weird. I should be able to eat twice as much as you with how tall this body is," I said, feeling bloated.

Edward shrugged. "I'm not used to that amount of food at one time."

"No wonder you're so skinny," I said, mostly to myself, as I brushed the crumbs off of my shirt and felt his ribs under the fabric. "Well, if nothing else, I'm going to fatten you up before we switch back," I said jokingly, but was rather serious.

"In a few days?" he snorted.

"Mike once gained four pounds in two days for a wrestling tournament. If he can do it, so can I," I said while forcing myself to take another bite. I could barely get it down and my stomach churned in protest, so I put the burger back on my plate in defeat.

"Please don't do anything like that," Edward asked. "It'll just stretch my stomach and make it that much harder for me when we switch back and I return to my regular diet."

"Maybe I'll just keep buying you food," I offered. I didn't have to like the guy to feel sorry for him. No one should ever have to go so long without eating.

"I don't want your handouts," he grumbled again.

"Well, your mom looked pretty skinny too. Maybe I'll just give her money for groceries."

"She'll just spend it on drugs or booze. Besides, she does get food stamps, she just finds a way to trade them on the street for shit she shouldn't have."

"Oh. Well, what about the food bank? Can't you…"

"Can we just talk about something else please? I'm fine. We're fine. I don't need to change anything in my life just because some rich girl thinks it's not good enough."

"It's not that I think it's not good enough," I tried clarifying, but he didn't want to hear it.

"Please, just stop. If you're not going to eat anymore, can we go now?"

"Fine," I gave up.

He was already in a bad mood, which was to be expected considering the crazy situation we were in with PMS thrown on top of it, but now I was worried about our next task. Had it been a normal appointment at the salon, I would have just canceled, but with my period coming, it was of the utmost importance that I got a proper cleaning.

"I have to do what now?" he asked when we got to the salon and the receptionist, Gianna, checked him in. First it was a shampoo and a blowout – and let's face it, cleaning and deep conditioning that matted mess was vital. Then he had an appointment with the esthetician waxer for my monthly Brazilian.

"Don't worry about it," I said dismissively. "Spas are relaxing," I added. "In fact, I'm going to see if they'll wash my hair too."

"No way! I don't want them using some foo foo shit in my hair."

"It just needs to be cleaned. It's greasy and it stinks. It's better they do it than me having to stick my fingers in there," I said, shuddering at the thought of touching his hair.

"My hair doesn't stink. I washed it… like two days ago," he said defensively.

I grimaced.

"Fine. Whatever. It's your dad's money you're wasting on dumb shit that doesn't matter."

"My dad is perfectly happy with me being well taken care of," I told him.

"Whatever. Just do what you want to do."

I smiled triumphantly, then went to add myself to the list. I didn't think it would be an issue, however Gianna immediately snubbed her nose up at my request.

"We're booked."

"I'm sure you can squeeze me in. I just want a wash," I told her.

"Sorry, there isn't anything I can do. Why don't you try Easy Cuts downtown," she said, and then pretended to answer the phone that didn't ring.

"How fucking rude!" I snapped at her. "You know who my father is, Gia. He will not be happy about this."

"And who is your father? Some strung out junkie?" she asked haughtily.

My mouth fell open in shock. Just when I was about to chew her ass out and have her fired, Edward grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

"You're me, remember!" he hissed quietly. "I'm not their typical clientele."

"That is no excuse. I'm a paying customer. You know what, you go talk to their manager as me."

"No," he refused. He stubbornly sat back down and put his feet on the magazine table to wait for them to call me.

"Edward, I want this gross hair washed," I told him quietly.

"Then you're going to have to do it yourself at my house. Being here at all is bad enough; I'm not about to start throwing your dad's weight around. I hate that shit."

I growled in frustration. "Fine. Whatever."

I briefly considered threatening him with doing a purposefully bad job at his work if he didn't do it, but I backed down. What he was about to do was enough for this round of give and take.

When my name was called, Edward shot me a stink eye as he followed my hairdresser back. I could do nothing but sit there and wait, so I played on my phone and did my usual daily gossip texts with my friends.

About thirty minutes later, I saw my beautiful soft hair flowing past as he was being led to the waxing room. I bit my lip anxiously, and then it happened. My voice was heard throughout the entire salon, cussing like a hoodlum, followed by one loud scream.

I couldn't help but laugh. Just the thought of a guy experiencing that was hysterical, even though I did feel slightly bad about it. But before Edward even walked out and I had the chance to tease him, I was hit with some painful karma. The sudden overwhelming tingling in my crotch could only mean one thing. I had to pee again, and with that thing between my legs, there wasn't anything more horrifying…