Chapter 5

"Can it get any hotter in here?" Jessica fans herself as we line up for the opening number again.

"They said the air conditioner is broken." Sweat rolls down my back. "I can't believe it's this hot at the end of September."

"Ladies, let's take a ten minute break. Get a drink and rest a bit." Mrs. Webber storms off toward the front office, probably asking for another update on the air. We've all been suffering in literal hell for the last two hours.

I grab a bottle of water and start toward the hallway where it's hopefully a bit cooler. Just before I reach the back, I see the door for crew that leads to the rafters, spotlights, and all of the behind the scenes stuff.

I step through and the door closes heavy behind me. "Edward?" I call. He must be back here, I saw him running around just a bit ago.

It's dark and stifling hot back here, worse than on stage. I weave my way down the hallway, stepping around boxes and stage equipment.

"Edward?" I call again, making my way up a tall flight of metal stairs.

When I reach the top, I realize I'm walking on a catwalk above the stage. A set of lights are spaced out on the railing every few feet.

He must not be up here. I turn around and run right into bare skin.

"Oh, God," I stutter.

"No, just me." Edward, shirtless and glistening with sweat, steps around me carrying a light bulb in his hands. "Hot as fuck in here, eh?"

"Yeah."

He fixes the lightbulb and runs his fingers through his hair.

"Drink?" I offer him my water bottle.

"Yep." He takes a big swig and hands it back to me. "Thanks."

"You doing okay up here?" I ask.

"Oh, I'm doing fine." He smiles and winks at me. "Besides, view's not so bad."

"I probably look like a drunken bird going through those stupid dance moves." I laugh.

"Not at all. You're beautiful…" He reaches out and touches my cheek just for a moment, like he let himself slip. I flush with heat and I'm already hot as it is. "Uh...sorry." He looks down, but I see a smirk touch his lips.

"It's okay."

"She's such a slut…" We hear gigging below us. I glance down and see Jessica talking with a group of girls. "You know she's probably doing him."

"Who, Rosalie?" One of the others ask.

"Well, obviously. And they live together, it's weird. But I was talking about Isabella."

My heart stops. What?

"Don't you think it's weird that she invited Edward to Mike's place, and now as soon as we have a break, she's running off behind stage to find him? Totally sleeping together. He's probably got her bent over some box in the back."

I hear Edward almost growl beside me and start like he's going to shout something to them. I reach over and grab his wrist, shaking my head no.

"At least she's getting some finally, you know she was a dried up virgin." One of the other girls shrugs with a laugh. Angela stands quiet, looking uncomfortable. I guess not uncomfortable enough to speak up and defend someone she calls her friend.

I don't cry. Even though I probably should.

They move along, but Edward and I don't move.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that," he says.

"You're sorry? They're my friends." I shake my head. "Or so I thought."

"People are fucking fake and shitty. And other people fawn all over them like they're God-damn royalty."

"You're not fake," my voice trembles. "You've never been anyone but who you are."

"Yeah." He nods. "And the world punishes me for it." He starts working on the light again and it flicks back on. "You better get back."

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?" He asks.

"Not let it get to you."

"I stopped letting people like that matter to me."

I nod and start back down toward the stage, not bothering to say a word to Jessica.

"Where'd you slip off to, Isabella?" She teases. The girls all giggle. Well, everyone but Rosalie.

I clench my fists and bite my tongue as the music starts.

The line starts to move in front of me, each girl falling behind and slinking like a giant snake across the stage.

Jessica walks toward me, eyes and fake smile out toward the invisible audience, waving her hand back and forth like she's parading herself.

I know it's petty. I know it's wrong. I know it's beneath me. But as she reaches me, I poke my leg out in front of her. Her foot catches on mine and she falls forward. Hard.

Everyone gasps as she hits the floor.

They look at her. They look at me. And all I can do is stutter out a few words.

"Oh, Jessica, I'm so sorry!" I shrug. "My bad!"

She sits up, rubbing her cheek, her eyes glaring.

A soft, barely there chuckle echoes above the stage. I glance up and see Edward sitting over the edge of the walkway. Behind the bright lights, I swear I see him smiling.

I look back at the girls I once called my friends, and then walk off stage. They don't matter to me anymore.

I drive around aimlessly for almost an hour because I know what's waiting for me at home. I know Jessica's mom would have called Momma by now and told her about my "misbehaving" and all.

Once I park in the driveway, I see her in the window. Arms crossed, foot probably tapping a mile a minute just waiting for me to get inside.

"Well," she says, as soon as I open the door.

"Hi to you too."

"What the Hell happened, Isabella? Mrs. Stanley says Jessica has a huge bruise on her cheek because you tripped her. This is just all so unlike you. You're lucky the judges weren't observing rehearsals."

"It was an accident, Momma." The confidence I'd had moments ago, an hour ago, is gone, cowering under her stare.

"It better have been." She points a finger at me. "I'm supposed to go out of town this weekend, how do I know I can even trust you to behave?"

I'm not going to trip anybody else if that's what you're asking. I did feel a little bad about it to be honest. "Go on your girls' weekend, Momma. I'll be fine. I can go stay at Dad's if you want." I head upstairs to my room, close the door and lay down on my bed.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. It's him.

"Hello," I answer.

"Despite my past, I'm not one to advocate violence," Edward says. "But nice moves, Swan."

"It was an accident," I lie.

"Bullshit."

I smile.

"I'm taking your advice. They don't matter to me anymore."

My bedroom door opens without so much as even a knock and I pull my phone down.

"Who are you talking to? Best be Jessica apologizing for maiming her face," Momma says. It was hardly maiming. "I want you to stay here this weekend, not your father's. Maybe he's the bad influence. If I hear one peep of bad behavior I'm coming straight home."

She closes the door.

"Sorry," I say, bringing my phone back up to my ear.

"Did I hear that right? Isabella Swan is going to be all by her lonesome this weekend?"

"You sound a little devious, Masen," I tease. "I think Momma's wrong about who's the bad influence."

"And it's been a pleasure to be of service. See you this weekend."

He hangs up and my heart's a fluttering in a million different ways in my chest. Do I like him? Like...like-like him.

He's definitely an influence. And I know I like that.

A/N: Thank you!