I do not own Twilight.
High School: Junior Year, October
Becca Cheney moves across the room, red solo cup in hand, body maneuvering around other drunk, sweaty bodies to get to the adjacent room of Mike Warner's house.
Her eyes however have fallen on, and have yet to release, Edward and I can tell by the way she's tracking him that the interest spews from more than just infatuation.
Edward doesn't seem to notice from his spot on the arm of the couch, facing me as I lean against the far wall.
I jut my chin towards Ben Cheney's twin sister after she's turned away.
"You had a thing with her?" I ask and I know it's only the mix of alcohol in my system that's making me brave enough to ask.
Edward glances up at me quickly, his green eyes catching, before following my gaze. She's halfway through the kitchen now, beelining for some girl that I've never seen before.
Edward grimaces.
"Define 'thing'," he says, but suddenly I no longer want to know and I don't think I have a right to be upset because Edward and I aren't a 'thing', so, really, who's the one that should be asking this question?
I tip my cup against my mouth, letting the bitter taste of the rum concoction wash down my throat. I'm proud I don't wince or gag this time. The more I drink, the less I taste the horridness of what I'm drinking.
Charlie would not be proud.
"Did it end badly?" I ask over the cup. I go for nonchalance, but I don't think I've managed it well enough. I think I hit somewhere around jealous and unreasonably irritated.
He purses his lips, looking over me once.
"Define 'bad'," he says.
My smile isn't completely forced.
"We didn't date, if that's what you're asking," he adds and then grabs my cup from me to take a sip himself. I watch in a slight daze and he smirks when he hands it back.
"What did you do then?" I ask and immediately regret it.
"Just messed around one night," he says, but his tone is a bit reluctant, like he didn't necessarily want to tell me that, but I already know from Alice that Edward's done other things with other girls. A lot of other things with a lot of other girls.
I get it; he's irresistible.
"One night?" I ask and he grins, standing slowly so that he towers over me. The lighting in the house is dim to coincide with the living room where most of the action is taking place. His shadow takes over my form, his brim low enough that it almost hides his eyes now.
I press back against the wall instinctively, sucking in a breath as he steps closer, and glance around. For what, I don't know. No one else is in this small corner of the house. There's a couple on the stairs above us, but they've been on each other for the past twenty minutes. I don't even think they know we are here.
"Does it really matter how many nights?" he asks, reaching out towards me. One of his hands finds purchase on my waist while the other gently takes the cup from me. He finishes the remainder of the drink and moves in closer.
I can feel my heart beat against my chest and I'm almost positive he can, too. If not, then he can definitely feel the heat on my face when he leans in to run his nose along my jaw.
"It was a while ago," he says, pressing his lips hotly to the bare skin just beneath my ear. I nearly melt into him, my knees buckling. "Do you want a play-by-play, or would you rather I kiss you?"
His fingers dance up my ribcage and take hold of my jaw, turning my head slightly so he can kiss the side of my neck. I swallow back a moan. His lips press to my jaw, my cheek, the corner of my mouth.
"So?" he whispers after a second, and I can taste the rum and coke in the air between us.
"Hmm?" I manage to mumble out, and the sound is throaty, as is his rejoining chuckle before he's turning my face again, tilting me to fit his mouth over mine.
I can feel his lingering smile until it vanishes when I part my lips, opening for him. His tongue darts to mine, testing, teasing, stroking until he pulls back just slightly to suck my bottom lip into his mouth. My responding moan is embarrassing, but he seems to like it as he kisses me harder, parts his lips wider.
His hands travel from my face to the hem of my dark blue, sleeveless shirt and then quickly beneath the fabric, fingers gripping my waist, pulling me closer against him as he takes another step towards me.
We're trapped in a corner, but I don't think I ever want to move.
There's a voice in my head that sounds remarkably like my mother telling me to be a little more discreet.
I pull back slowly, my head hitting the wall with a soft thud and when I can finally open my eyes, he's already watching me.
His baseball hat. I forgot he was wearing it. The brim didn't even hit me once and I wonder if that's something he's practiced on Becca Cheney and then I realize that I don't actually care.
I lick my lips, tasting him, and he watches the movement before his mouth is on mine again.
When he pulls away I'm breathless and wanting more, so I know it's a good time to stop.
"I should probably find Alice," I whisper as his hooded eyes move along my features. "She's probably wondering where I've gone."
He agrees, but looks reluctant until he pulls off his cap and places it on my head, smiling at his handiwork. It almost feels like a possessive move, like he's calling dibs on me and I can't help but to grin up at him, pulling the brim down a bit like he usually wears it.
"'Kay," he says and takes my hand.
I'm smiling the entire way back through the house.