A/N: This is such a pointless story and I'm loving (writing) it.
AWWC is coming soon.
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The Girl with Laughter in Her Eyes
by Anton M.
Chapter 3: I Could Get Used to This
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Edward found himself hugging Bella's pillow instead of his girlfriend in the morning. Trying hard not to express how grumpy that made him, he brushed his teeth and joined her in the kitchen. She'd had her morning run, she'd showered and she was making an omelette and toast while stretching her shins when Edward surrounded her with his arms. He kissed her hair.
"Morning, beautiful."
Bella turned her head and lowered her foot on the ground before she sank into his chest. She no longer fought him about how he saw her, and she had come so far as to even believe him when he paid her compliments.
The smile lit up her face. "Ah, the football to my lip balm. Morning, my love."
It happened rarely, but Edward loved it when Bella used little pet names for him, and he squeezed her in response. She turned around, surrounding his neck with her arms, and pulled him into a kiss.
"I could get used to this," she said. He hummed in agreement before he swayed them closer to the counter and pressed her against it as he slid his hand inside the sweatshirt she was wearing. It had been his, but she had once, shyly, asked if she could have it for when she missed him, and he couldn't say no to an adorable request like that. It looked better on her anyway.
Edward ran fingers through her hair, nipping her lips, and pressed himself flush against her. Bella started laughing.
"I will need a change of underwear if you continue like this."
"And is that so bad?" he asked, pretending innocence.
Bella cursed, throwing herself against him as she hugged him tightly. "Please. I love this. I could get used to this."
Her voice was torn, pleading, and full of love. Edward filled with hope at her words and wrapped her into a crushing hug, hiding his face in her neck.
"Me, too," he whispered before he pressed a feather-light kiss against her neck and rubbed her back. She was warm and lovely in his arms, and it was entirely too easy to imagine a lifetime's worth of mornings with her.
"You can start eating," he said, kissing her temple before he had mercy on his girlfriend and detached himself from her. "I'll find something."
"But I made some for you, too," she argued, pointing at an ugly, chipped plate upside down on top of another ugly, chipped place, keeping his omelette somewhat warm. None of the three girls had been bothered or had the money to find matching plates or furniture, and so the entire apartment was put together of furniture from Facebook Marketplace and mismatched cutlery from Craigslist.
"Well, aren't I just the most kept man in New York," Edward said, squeezing Bella's thigh as he sat. "You didn't have to."
"I know," she replied. They both dug into the food. "I got up a bit too early. Nerves, I guess. Don't know why — it's not like anything is determined by today's events. It's probably more important that I don't injure myself than how I perform, but this college and our coach can take quite a bit of credit for my running. I'd like to finish semi-decently."
"That's very kind of you," Edward said, scooting his chair closer to Bella's and resting his arm on the backrest behind her. She pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees as she continued eating.
"I wish I could just—" she begun, but instead, pressed a small kiss on his forearm, stifling a smile.
"What?"
"Clone you," she finished, smiling.
"Clone me?"
"Yeah, for when we're no longer—"
Edward, tensing with each word she said, looked at her with such thunder in his eyes that Bella stopped talking almost mid-word.
"No," Edward interrupted, unwilling to have a fight on the morning of her second day of events but equally unwilling to listen to his girlfriend talk about a future in which they were bound to go their separate ways. "No. Not this again. It's okay if you sometimes have your doubts about us, that's completely natural, but you say it so easily and quickly that it makes me wonder if it's something you secretly wish for."
He kept his eyes carefully on his food as he continued eating, but Bella took his plate from his hands and sat on his lap, tilting his head to see his eyes.
"Is it?" he asked in a voice so vulnerable that Bella threw her arms around him.
"Of course not," she whispered, pulling back and cupping his cheeks. "I'm on my fifth year of therapy. I have my ups and downs, and I cannot blame you for what you thought I would say. I will try to word myself better, next time. But what I was going to say, before you got such hurt puppy dog eyes that I'll have to bleach mine to get over how cute you are — I want to clone you for when we're no longer both in New York. Because we're always on borrowed time, and I hate it."
Edward sank against her, running his fingers over her hair and resting his forehead against her temple. "Jesus."
"Jesus hates the distance, too, yes. How'd you know?"
Edward let out a strangled laugh, a little embarrassed by his jumping to conclusions but amazed by her progress.
She pecked his cheek and returned to her food. "So, tell me, on a scale of I-could-do-cartwheels to I'm-desperately-hoping-my-girlfriend-never-asks-for-sex-again, how badly do your arms hurt?"
Edward's ears flushed. "Porn sucks."
"Definitely." Bella smiled. "There's a lot of sucking involved. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
"Are you downplaying your soreness because I'm the one who's supposed to be sore?"
"Are you?"
Bella sat back against him, taking a bite and swallowing before she turned around in his lap and straddled him. She wiped hair away from his face and cupped his cheek, smiling. "Maybe a little. It's not a testament to your skills as much as a testament to my fitness that I'm not suffering today. Four years ago, what we did yesterday would've made me walk funny for a week. It's totally normal that your arms are aching. Had I been holding you, you bet your ass I would have the sore arms of a lifetime."
Edward put his thumb under her chin, stifling a smile. "And did you enjoy yourself yesterday?"
She threw her head back in laughter. "Did I." Further confirmation was unnecessary, and together, they finished their breakfast before Bella stood up and put a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder.
"You sit. I have fifteen minutes to spare, so I'm going to stretch your arms, okay?"
Bella took both of his hands in hers and pushed his arms up, exposing her lower stomach to his face. Edward pressed his lips against her midriff before he groaned.
"Good?" she asked, eyes filled with mirth.
"Fuck that's amazing," he replied. "Be my masseuse."
"I think Columbia would be a bit disappointed in me, but I'm not opposed to the suggestion. What does this job entail?"
Instead of answering, he let out a low grunt when she pulled both of his arms behind him and stretched his muscles just right. He kept up his wordless groaning until Bella leaned closer and said, "Might want to tone down the sounds."
"Why?" he asked, in a blissful daze from her stretching.
"I don't have enough panties to change into."
"Sounds like a challenge," he replied, and kept groaning as she stretched his arms. When Bella was done, he gave her a lazy smile, got up and hugged her. "You're the best girlfriend anyone's ever had."
"Love the cheese," she replied. "Do you know the best remedy for sore muscles?"
"What?"
Bella leaned closer, lips grazing his ear. "More exercise."
A low grumble left his chest when he hid his face in her neck. "Don't tempt me. You're lucky I care about your competition."
The stadium was pretty empty given the early hour, and when Bella left Edward, he noticed a dark red hickey he'd given her and sent her a text.
'Baby, you should know that you have a hickey on the left side of the back of your neck. I'm sorry.'
'You think it'll make them jealous, seeing how much my boyfriend loves me?'
Her response was proof of her growth and confidence, and he almost burst with pride.
'Definitely. Love you. Go kick some ass.'
It took little more than an hour for the stadium to fill to the extent that it had been filled the previous day, and Edward removed the woolen throw she had given him for the morning cold. For May in New York, it got hot — up to 80 degrees — during the day, but the nights and mornings could be chilly.
The day started with women's 100m hurdles, and Bella lit up the stadium with her chant. This time, as looked straight at Edward as she kissed her wrist, and the gesture overwhelmed him with pride and awe.
She ran third.
Edward paid little attention to the discus, pole vault and javelin that followed because he focused on finishing up his essay. He was nearly done when women's 1500 meters begun, and as he joined Bella's chant, he could see her nerves. This was her least favorite event, but she didn't do half-bad. She ran sixth.
Al called him. Because they spoke in French, he was not worried that Bella would surprise him and overhear the conversation, and talking to Al was just what Edward needed.
His birth father Al didn't have any of the baggage that his relationship with Carlisle had, and Al read the room with Edward, knowing what to say and how to say it. He stressed to Edward how much unnecessary pressure he was putting on himself, trying to propose in some extraordinary way. Bella would choose him for the man he was, and her answer was unlikely to depend on the originality of his proposal.
It was a simple and obvious statement, but for some reason, it allowed Edward to recognize exactly how he wanted to propose, and when they finished their call, Edward dialed Savannah's number and hoped that she hadn't changed it.
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Bella's head blocked the sun from him before he saw her. She wore a bright orange skirt and a crop top with some insane pattern on it. She laughed when Edward forgot himself staring at her legs.
"Eyes up here, buddy."
It was only when she sat on his lap that he realized that her group of friends was waiting by the entrance of the changing rooms. Before Bella could say anything, Edward smiled against her shoulder, stroking the exposed skin on her back.
"Is this bribery?"
"Maybe. Is it working?"
"The kind of bribery that would really work requires fewer clothes and a lot more privacy."
Bella grinned against his ear, and they both knew what she was asking — her friends, waiting downstairs, were proof enough. Bella ran her hands through his hair.
"Say the word and we won't go," she said. "You came here for me and it's unfair of me to dump plans on your lap, especially with the conversation we were supposed to have today. But it's the last party of the year before most head home for the summer. And after summer, I won't be here, so…"
"Would you prefer to go alone?"
"No."
"So it's both of us or neither of us?"
"What can I say? I'm a package deal when you're here."
"And you're sure they're okay with me there?"
"A sexy, kind eye-candy who's fantastic with people? I can see why they'd hate you."
Edward put his laptop in his bag, kissing her shoulder.
"Okay."
"Really?" Bella squeezed him before she kissed his cheek. "I promise to make it up to you."
"I'll try to look extra reluctant, then, to receive extra care later."
Bella laughed, taking his hand in hers. They joined her friends, most of whom Edward had met, and all went out to eat before heading for the house party. The house was half-empty when they arrived, but it was a diverse crowd and not just from Molloy College. Edward recognized a few faces and waved at Savannah, hoping to find her later to see if she'd had the chance to help him.
Before they joined the line for punch, Edward pulled Bella on the side.
"Should I be the sober driver?"
"No, you enjoy yourself. I get the mother of all headaches if I drink after two days of competing."
"You sure?"
"Positive."
Bella paused, stifling her smile, and Edward pulled her against his chest as he laughed.
"Was this just a ploy to get me drunk?"
"Maybe. But you're the most adorable drunk ever, so I'm okay taking that blame."
If given a choice, Edward would've chosen to spend the night with his girlfriend, but Bella had cool friends and he got along with them quite well. He gave Bella room to breathe and have fun, sneaking in the occasional kiss or holding her (water) cup when she used the bathroom, and he got to know a few of her friends better.
After a few hours of increasing crowds and volume, Edward found a more silent corner of the house, an enclosed balcony, and attempted to edit his essay, but the open beer next to his laptop and a particularly bad song in the speakers made him reconsider. He shut his laptop and took a swig of his beer before his phone rang.
"Is Bella there?" Emmett asked, straight to business.
"No."
"Okay, I'm going to blow your fucking pants off. Are you ready?"
"Sure, what's up?"
"You will never guess who Jasper wants to bring as his plus one."
"Jasper is insanely private, Emmett. If you make me guess, we'll be here all night."
Emmett took a breath. "Laurent."
"Laurent what?"
"Jasper's plus one."
"Bella's ex, Laurent? Your friend, Laurent, from high school?"
"Yup."
"You're shitting me."
"Told you I'd blow your pants off."
"Shit. Goddamn."
"Yeah." Emmett laughed. "Which brings me to the mother of all questions — do you mind?"
Edward took a moment to think about it.
"No, I don't think I've met him a handful of times after high school. Nice guy, though, nothing against him."
It was strange to say that he had nothing against him because Laurent being such a nice guy in high school was exactly what Edward had held against him. It would've been easier to hate him had he been an asshole.
"Except that he dated your girlfriend and is now dating your cousin."
"He's got good taste, I'll give him that."
Emmett laughed.
"Do you think Bella will mind?"
Edward sighed. "I've no clue."
"See, this is why Bella never wanted to plan a wedding. Every decision is the mother of all decisions. Should we refuse Jasper?"
Edward hummed, listening to any sounds from the hallway. "Is it okay if I kind of… break this news to Bella and see how she reacts? Not the wedding part, obviously, but the fact that her ex is dating Jasper now."
"Yeah, that might be for the best," Emmett replied. "So, do you know how you're gonna propose?"
Edward groaned. "Yes."
"And?"
"You're not the first Swan I'd like to share it with."
"Not pretty enough for you?"
Edward laughed. "Absolutely not." He paused. "I'm glad you called, actually, I had a question for you. It's about the diary Bella wrote during our junior year of high school."
"Holy shit," Emmett replied. "She's gonna kill me. Who told you? When did you find out? Did you talk to her about it?"
"Jesus, what the hell. Was it supposed to be a secret?"
Emmett paused. "Maybe."
"Well, Charlie said you'd read it, and I just wanted to ask if she wrote anything about how she wanted to proposed to, even as a joke. Did she?"
"Nope. Nothing at all."
"Just my luck. Can I talk to her about it? Am I in it?"
"Is he in it, he asks," Emmett said before he raised the volume of his voice. "Rose, your brother is a moron!"
"I'll take that as a yes," Edward replied, smiling. "So I can talk to her about it?"
"It's your funeral. But if you must bring it up — first, assure her that I never said a word about it before you already found out from dad. Okay? She can now actually outrun me, and she's taller than me. The bodily harm will be extensive if she believes me to have told you before you knew."
"Wow, you admit that she's taller than you? That's a first."
"Bite me."
"I should've recorded you. She will never believe you admitted it."
"Bite me. We were not all born giants like you two."
Edward made another attempt at finishing his essay after the call ended, but it was a futile endeavor because Savannah found him. She was from Shreveport, Louisiana, and Bella met her in one of the classes they shared. She did not do track and field herself but grew up surrounded by it and understood all the points and details that Edward had barely had the time or energy to learn.
"Man, I've been looking everywhere for you," Savannah said, throwing him her room keys. "It's done. If you lose my keys you pay for them."
"Fair enough." Edward, giving up on his essay, shut his laptop. "I can pay for your hotel if you want, for leaving the apartment for us."
"Nah, we have an uncle in Milford and we were overdue for a visit anyway. I'll be back on Monday, though, so maybe keep your activities to your room unless you're into that."
Edward felt his ears warm. "Oh, we don't—"
"Bella has walked in on me and my ex-girlfriend in our living room. Don't make promises you can't keep."
Savannah's words did not help the redness of his ears, but mercifully, she changed the subject.
"No offense, but aren't you guys a little young to get married?"
"Bella never told you?"
"Bella is so private, man, I can barely mention you to her in a question and already she's halfway across the hall calling you. What was she supposed to tell me?"
Edward knew, of course, that Bella did not talk about him much to her friends. At first, the discovery had made him feel unsettled because he couldn't shut up about his girlfriend to anyone who asked. Bella, however, always made one of those deadpan, snarky comments about anything in the world, effectively shutting down the conversation, and Edward had felt as if he was not important enough to her, for her to talk about him.
One night, however, when he made it clear that he was okay with Bella discussing any aspect of his life (within reason) to her friends, that it was only natural that he would come up in a conversation, he quickly realized that when Bella was so precious to him that he wanted to tell everyone about her, he was so precious to her that she wanted to keep everything private. They had the same intention and emotion behind their reasoning, and yet a completely different outcome.
He was too precious for her to be talked about, and the knowledge reassured him more than it should have.
"I'm 26."
"You can't be 26. Bella is, what, 22? 23? And you guys were in the same class in high school together."
"Look at me. Do I look 22?"
He did not, in fact, look 22, even though many 26-year-olds could probably pass for 22. It was the difference that a face that had seen years of shaving and his height, made. Had he truly been 22, he would've looked insanely old for his age, and even at 26, he passed for 30.
When people guessed his age, they almost always hit closer to thirty than twenty.
"Yeah, I guess not," Savannah replied. "I understand if you don't want to share, but — how does that even happen? Did you spend a few years in a coma? Fail a few grades? What?"
Edward sighed, pulling off and reattaching the edge of the label on his beer. "I'm adopted. The birth certificate was fucked up and I had to prove that my US birth certificate was fraudulent and my real, Canada-issued birth certificate was authentic. Fraudulent is maybe too strong a word for a certificate that probably had to be issued in the absence of any birth certificate, but yeah. Someone fucked up somewhere when I was moved, but nobody could determine where the mistake was made. Either way, that's what happened."
"That's insane. How old were you when you found out your real age?"
"20. Thought I was 17. It was pretty wild, but also… answered a lot of questions."
"And I thought my family had issues."
Edward laughed.
"Yeah, it was not fun having the real thing legally recognized. It took a year with the Canadian embassy, and I had to ask for DNA evidence from my biological mom's family, and even after that, my biological father had to prove his fatherhood so that I wouldn't be shipped to Canada due to having no legal grounds to stay here. But my father is from the US, so… that was settled. And when all of that fun was had, my adoptive parents had to, once again, handle all the adoption papers to adopt me because my first adoption was based on a false certificate."
Savannah blinked and blew air against her nose. "You should write a book about that. That's insane."
"Have you heard Bella's story? Mine doesn't even make a dent compared to hers."
"She doesn't really talk about it, you know. We've shared a flat for a year and a half and all I know is how much I've read in the papers. She always changes the subject."
"I would, too, if I were her."
"Was she raped?"
Edward paused. "I'm going to skirt on the side of rude, here, but I'm not comfortable discussing that question."
"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Savannah backtracked. "Way out of line. I'm sorry. It's just… she invites so much curiosity with all of it. I'm sorry."
"It's okay. You're not the first and probably not the last to ask me that. As she becomes more well-known, I guess I'll learn to handle the attention."
Savannah gave a sheepish smile. "It's a bit insane that she doesn't come from an athlete's family or that she had no intention to seriously run up until she was, what, a senior in high school? And she's so fucking good at it. Imagine where she'd be if she'd never gotten shot."
"I know."
"How did she even—how do you start track and field in senior year and end up in Division II?"
"Do you want the answer she would give or the answer I would give?"
"You."
"Rage," he replied. "She ran on pure rage, I think, the entire senior year. I mean, she had therapy, obviously, but I think she was so terrified of having a permanent back problem that she did everything humanly possible to run as well as possible. We also paid for a single visit to some expensive sports doctor, but she wanted more time with her and ended up selling her inheritance from her mom. She probably spent upwards of forty thousand dollars to pay for the best sports doctor and the best physiotherapist in Seattle. And the rage she felt about — what happened — she funneled it neatly and aggressively into track and field. It's funny because she never—"
Bella and Brenton joined them with three other people introduced to Edward as Seth, Bree and Jane. Edward opened his arms wide for his girlfriend, and Bella happily sat in his lap. She pressed a gentle kiss against his ear and all his energy focused on not standing up and walking out of the room with his sweet, lovely girlfriend around him. He surrounded her body with his arms and Bella sank against him.
"What are you girls discussing here so quietly?" Brenton asked.
"Bella," Edward replied, throwing the cap of his bottle at him. "And how fast she is."
Savannah was curious about what Edward had been about to say but not enough to continue discussing Bella as if she were not in the room.
"But enough of that," Edward said. "Savannah, tell us about your life."
"No, no, no. My life is boring as fuck compared to what you guys went through. Both parents alive, happy and married, no adoption, no drama, one stupid brother. That's it. The most interesting part about our lives is that our father is black and our mom is white, but both sides of our family are boringly not racist at all. I wish we had some drama."
Brenton threw the beer cap at his sister, but Savannah caught it and started throwing it up and down.
"So, Bella, what were you going to do with your future if you hadn't decided to run?"
Bella hid her smile in Edward's hair before she asked, "What do you think?"
"Accounting? Economics? Psychology? I don't know."
Edward and Bella smiled, catching each other's eyes before Edward drank his beer, squeezing her.
"Not even close. I was going to study Theatre. I wanted to act."
"Nooo," Brenton said. "You're kidding."
"I wish!" Bella replied. "I even tried out for Juilliard. I was so sure that was the thing for me."
"But you could've majored in the Molloy/CAP21 Theatre Arts Program."
"I know," Bella replied. "I almost did, but in the end, I couldn't do it. I didn't feel like I could give my best for track if I majored in something I felt so passionately about, and my scholarship is based on athletics, not theatre."
"So the next logical step for you was to major in the most boring subject known to mankind?"
"What's her major?" Bree whispered to Brenton.
"Math," he replied. "It's the worst."
"It's not so bad." Bella smiled. "It probably opens more doors for my graduate studies than theatre ever would have, and either way, I was always good at it."
Brenton groaned. "I would rather kill someone than spend another second on math after high school."
"I'll keep that in mind should I need an assassin," Bella replied, smiling. "Why do we always end up talking about me?"
"Because you had more shit happen to you in your 22 years than I'll probably ever see in my lifetime," Brenton said. "And, you'll hold the women's world record in 100 meters one day. Got to take advantage of knowing you before you become really famous."
"Female athletes never get that famous, and either way, you don't know I'll reach that level."
"Did you or did you not come home three weeks ago—" Savannah started before Bella interrupted.
"Hey! Those are unofficial times. They don't count."
"What happened three weeks ago?" Edward asked.
"Unofficial," Bella repeated, glaring at her flatmate. "Unofficial is unofficial for a reason. Don't get their hopes up, Savannah. Perfect conditions, no stress of competing, any athlete can be better than their competition times."
"Well, I just think your boyfriend should know who he's—"
Even while tipsy, Edward's eyes widened in alarm, and Savannah realized her error in a snap second.
"—girlfriend is, you know, for the attention he'll have to get used to. You should tell him."
Edward took a careful look at Bella, but she didn't seem to have caught Savannah's near-slip, and so, Bella was outnumbered. The room was starting to fill up with people who were tired of the loud music on the other side of the house, and six-packs of beer landed on the table.
"10.53," Savannah said, and a collective intake of breath was followed by whoops and expressions of awe.
Edward squeezed his girlfriend and whispered against her ear. "Really?"
When Bella nodded, he pressed a kiss in front of her ear. "You're amazing."
"Fuck," Brenton said. "You never told me that!"
"It's not real," Bella said. "It's in perfect conditions. Indoor stadium, no wind, no competition, no stress. It's not real."
"It's real, and it shows what you're capable of," Savannah said.
"I'm actually surprised you can run that fast with the hips you have," Jane said, and although it was probably not meant as an insult, it reminded Edward a little bit too much of Alice.
"That better be a compliment because I definitely love it. Are you saying I have feminine hips for a runner? I love it."
Jane blushed. "In physics, it's actually a biomechanics thing when the hip width doesn't allow women to run as fast as men."
"Hips or not, her legs start where your brains begin," Brenton said. "So it doesn't strike me as a problem."
The room filled with laughter. Jane stood at 4'10'' and Bella, during her senior year of high school, had reached the height of 6'. Bella was taller than any other female athlete she'd ever competed with.
"I mean, there's obviously lung capacity, hemoglobin, heart size…"
Edward, now holding his next beer, was a little bit tipsy and held his wrist next to Bella's, leaning against her shoulder and admiring the way their tattoos aligned when they held their wrists together.
Savannah, the only person who'd noticed, gaped at the couple.
"Holy shit, guys, I just discovered what the—"
Edward and Bella snapped their wrists away so quickly and looked at her with such horror that Savannah now held the attention of the entire room without being able to finish her sentence as she'd intended to.
"—secret of life is. Beer to everyone!"
She leaned forward and started giving out the beers, and while that made the room quite happy and distracted, Savannah looked over at Bella and mouthed, 'Oh my God!'
Bella shook her head, wordless, regretting their little moment of indulgence. Edward usually had a watch to cover his side of the tattoo, but it was missing today, and she forgot where they were sometimes when she was with him. There were no consequences to anyone knowing where her kiss on her wrist really came from, but she liked sharing this side of herself with only Edward for as long as she could.
"Congrats on your silver, Brenton." Edward raised his beer in acknowledgement, and the rest of the crowd joined in on the celebration. It was a relief to Edward to not be as close to the center of attention as he'd been — even if only through Bella — for the past half an hour, and he rested his jaw on her shoulder.
"You okay?" he whispered.
"Like a seahorse curling its tail," she replied, shifting a little bit to be closer to his face. "You?"
"Better now," he replied, and Bella rolled her eyes at the cheesiness but smiled.
"I'm sorry for dragging you here. I know you're not really a fan of these kinds of parties."
Maybe it was age or maybe it was his changing preferences, but when they first started attending college, their preferences for how they spent their free time diverged. Bella learned that she loved to be a part of the crowd that had fun, maybe because she felt that it had been kept from her by her experiences in middle school.
Edward, quite the opposite, having been a part of the crowd in a few schools already, found parties like this to be energy-consuming. In Chicago, he did attend some, but quickly learned that the scene rarely fit his mood. Was he too old for this? Had he had enough of it before college? He wasn't sure. He didn't mind Bella liking it, and he usually had a good time at the parties (all three) she'd invited him to, but he rarely (if ever) sought parties out if faced with a vacant evening.
"It's not too bad. I like your friends."
"I didn't forget our rain check, either, I promise. Are you up for a discussion tomorrow?"
"Sure thing."
Edward started to rub her waist with his fingertips, slowly and gently, and grazed her neck with his lips. Bella squirmed a little but parted her lips when Edward kissed her. They were surrounded by laughter and talking, teasing and arguing, but it all felt distant. Edward breathed her in, pulling her closer, enjoying her taste and scent and body, on top of him, around him, everywhere.
Edward had not realized how tipsy he was until Bella smiled against his lips, dazed and happy, about to say something when Brenton quipped, "Get a room."
"I'd love to." Edward grinned. "So we can leave?"
"You can't leave!" Savannah argued. "The party has barely begun."
"I'm hearing conflicting information," Edward replied, slowly, and his delivery made a few people nearby laugh.
"Are you tired?" Bella asked, quietly but loud enough for Brenton to hear her.
"Tired? That's what they call it these days?" He wiggled his eyebrows. "Move away, people, I need to call my girlfriend to see if she's up for being tired next week!"
Bella blushed furiously and Edward's ears reddened, but neither of them could stop smiling.
"I think you're being unfair to them," Jane said, sitting on a pillow on the floor. "Not all couples are like that."
"So, I'm going to forgive you because you're an innocent freshman," Brenton said, patting Jane's head as if he were soothing a kid. "But these guys are definitely like that."
"Why do you think so?" Jane asked, and her innocence was so endearing that half the room laughed and facepalmed on her behalf.
Edward was tipsy enough to actually be enjoying the conversation about their presumed private time, and Bella was hiding her red face against the side of his head. Both were grinning.
Brenton sat on his knees next to Jane and wiped his hair back in a very exaggerated move. "Dear little Jane, you see, when a man and a woman love each other but cannot be together, they are quite, ahem, adamant about being together when they meet."
"But you can't know how they—"
"Jane, Jane, Jane. You have spent too little time with Bella here to know that when her boyfriend arrives, she does not have a phone or a computer, and she is definitely not located in New York."
The people around them laughed, and Bella's face turned an even darker shade of red. She pressed her lips against Edward's ear. "Oh my God," she whispered.
"Do you want me to stop them?" Edward whispered, knowing very well that if he were not here, Bella would've shut down the conversation about a dozen sentences ago.
Bella shook her head. "It's kind of funny," she whispered. "Let them."
"But that doesn't mean—" Jane started, stubbornly, but Brenton choked on his laughter.
"Sweet Lord, Jane, look at them. All you have to do is look at them."
"I'm looking."
Brenton groaned, and the crowd watched with amusement. "There's nothing left for me to do but to ask them. Is that what you want? I would bet my uncle's '66 Ford Mustang that Edward, at this very moment, would rather be engaged in much more pleasurable activities with his girlfriend and this party only got in the way of those plans. Am I right?"
Attention turned to the couple, and Edward pressed his forehead against Bella's shoulder as he laughed against her. He put his thumbs up behind her, and the room roared with laughter. Edward and Bella, both grinning, hid their faces while Brenton patted Jane's back.
"Even my sister would tap that if Bella were so inclined," Brenton said, and Savannah shrugged.
"What? She has a phenomenal ass. I hope Edward appreciates it appropriately."
Edward threw the nearest empty cup at Savannah but grinned. He had, apparently, felt jealous at the wrong Williams sibling.
"I definitely do," he whispered against Bella's ear, and she squeezed him against her, grinning.
: :
A/N: It's such a delight to write something so inconsequential with no tension. One day, I'll return to slow burn, but for now, happy nonsense is my drug of choice.
Thanks a bunch for reading! You're all precious. See you soon.