Chapter 9
I find him in the kitchen, sitting at one end of the table sipping coffee. He gestures to the other chair and I slide down, trying to think of the best way to handle this.
It's embarrassing that my dad caught me basically dry humping someone in the driveway. The fact that it was Edward, the "town trouble maker", sure doesn't help.
"Bella…" Charlie starts.
"Dad," I nod, folding my hands together on the table top.
"I want you to know this is not about Edward."
"But it is, isn't it?" I interrupt. "Would you be as pissed as you are right now if I was in that car with Mike?"
"First of all, yes." He sets down his coffee cup. "Because you're my daughter and I don't care to see...those things." He waves his hand errantly. "And second of all, I don't dislike the kid. He got dealt a bad hand. Has he made the best decisions every day, no. But I don't think he's a bad guy, Bella, I really don't."
"Everyone else does," I argue.
"You're right. They do. And it's a super shitty thing to do to an eighteen-year-old kid, sentencing them to a life of being a bad egg when they don't even know the whole story."
"Do you...know the whole story?"
"I do. And I know Carlisle has been working his ass off trying to get Edward taken care of so this thing doesn't follow him around for the rest of his life."
"So, why are you against me being around him?"
He pauses. "Listen, Bella. You're basically an adult. You're smart, you're beautiful, and I know you make good choices and will do amazing things with your life. There are just...dynamics in parenting that are unavoidable. Your mom had custody of you. Pretty soon you'll be able to live on your own and maybe none of this will matter anymore, but I know what she thinks of him and well. If she knew you were hanging out or hooking up or whatever you call it these days, she'd throw a fit about you coming over here and I...didn't want to lose what little time I have left with my baby girl and I didn't want your relationship with her to be difficult. She's your mom."
"Dad." I pick at my fingers. "If I could have chosen...it would have been you a thousand times over."
I imagine what my life would have been like growing up living with my dad. Baseball and dirt. Warmed up microwave dinners. Beat up old truck. Sounds like Heaven on Earth.
"Bella, I trust you."
"So, you're not going to tell her?"
"I'm not going to tell her," he says. "But can you keep your...activities a little more private. I'm not stupid, I know what kids are doing these days, I just don't want to see it."
"Sorry." I blush.
"Are you being safe at least?"
"Dad!" I protest.
"Okay, okay."
"You coming to the game Friday?" I ask, trying to change the subject.
"Of course. Have I ever missed one of your, pageant things?" He waves his hand.
"It's just an appearance," I joke.
"I'll be there." He downs the rest of his coffee and slides his hat back on. "I'm heading back in for another shift, just stopped by for a break." He leans down and kisses my head. "Love you, kid."
"Love you, Dad."
Ten minutes after he leaves, there's a knock on the door.
"I'm glad to see he didn't lock you in your room," Edward says, leaning against the door. "Was it bad?"
"Actually. No. And it's not like you haven't crawled in my bedroom window before."
"True." He raises his eyebrows, asking the question he's too scared to say out loud.
"He's not going to tell my mom," I answer.
"That's a relief. At least it was him and not her."
That gets me thinking. What happens when it is her? I don't know what this, this thing with us, is, but I know it's not just a fling. What happens when it gets serious? Is it already on its way?
I study Edward, still standing in the doorway. I imagine bringing him to dinner at Momma's house. Us sitting down at the dining room table to have a meal.
I invite him in and we end up on the couch, sitting close but just far enough like we know our limits. Too close isn't safe. Just like a flame to a firecracker, it might cause a spark. It might cause a fire. And this time Charlie isn't here to interrupt.
He reaches across the small divide and grabs my hand, playing with my fingers.
"What are you doing Friday?" He asks, running his finger over a small freckle on the back of my hand.
"Um, we have the Homecoming Game event."
"Oh, that's right." He nods. "Do you think you're going to win?"
"Do you think I care about the game?" I joke.
"Not really," he smirks, bringing my hand up to his lips. "Probably not a good idea for me to come, huh?"
Would I love to see him there? Absolutely. Is it just going to cause more problems? Also absolutely.
"I'll send you a picture," I say, reassuringly.
"Scandalous, Bella Swan."
"Not...that kind of picture."
We sit in silence for a few minutes.
"I should get home," Edward says. "Carlisle is making spaghetti, it's like a...family...thing."
"Edward Masen, excited to do a family thing? Are you turning over a new leaf?"
"It's really good spaghetti." He leans over and presses his lips against mine. "Call you later."
After he leaves, I read up on a few chapters for school, and when Charlie comes home again, it's like nothing has changed. I'm his Bella. And he's my dad.
Friday comes quickly, and the next thing I know, I'm at the hair salon getting my hair done for the game. I insisted to Momma that it wasn't necessary to get it done for every single thing, but her insisting won out. This time.
"Are you so excited?" The stylist asks, putting the final touches on.
"She's ecstatic," Momma answers just as I open my mouth.
"I can answer for myself," I snap.
"Ooo." She fakes concern. "Attitude, honey. Are you about to start your period?"
I blush, shrink into the seat, and wish I could fall into a deep, dark hole.
"Does she have the most lovely hair?" Momma says, oblivious to my embarrassment and how inappropriate her question was. "She was made to have long hair, I swear if she ever cuts it, I'll be beside myself."
"It is lovely," the stylist says, pulling the cape off me.
"Now, we've got makeup next, Isabella. Are we on schedule?"
"Yes, Momma." I rise, completely deflated.
We make it back to my house with about an hour to spare before I need to be at the field. Momma sprays another whole can of hair spray on my head and tells me to get dressed.
I pull the light blue dress up over my hips and slide the skinny straps onto my shoulders. Sequins cover the entire thing, and the way it glints in the light makes me think of the ocean on a sunny day. I glance outside, it's anything but sunny. In fact, it's cold and miserable. And I'm going to be cold and miserable in this thing.
I head downstairs and grab a jacket as I start toward the door.
"Oh, honey. That jacket doesn't go with that dress," Momma says, peeking her head around the corner.
"It's freezing outside." I look down at my dress.
"Oh, it's only for a little bit." She brushes me off. "Just make sure you leave it in the car. I'll see you there, remember to smile." She leaves without another word. Not a "You look beautiful, Bella." or "Good luck."
I slide into my truck and make my way to the field. I don't realize I'm crying until I get there.
"Damn it." I flip my mirror down and check my makeup. Little blurry around the eyes, but thankfully no mascara lines. I wipe carefully, take a few breaths, and hop out.
I find the group easily, right before you go up into the bleachers. It's hard to miss a group of beauty queens in a crowd.
"Isabella, welcome!" Mrs Weber checks my name off her list. "That's everyone." She claps to get our attention. "Okay, ladies. We will be seated in the middle bleacher section, first two rows. Two minutes before halftime we will make our way under the bleachers to the tunnel, where they will announce us."
I shiver, thinking about sitting outside in the night air.
She directs us to our bleachers and I sit next to Rosalie, because none of the other girls will.
"You look really nice, Rose," I tell her.
"Thank you."
The stadium fills up quickly. I spot my dad, sitting with a few of his friends. I wave to him and he smiles. Momma and her gang are right behind us, gossiping loudly and snapping pictures every few minutes.
The first half is painstakingly slow. Probably because I'm freezing my ass off. All of the other girls at least have a shawl around them. But not me. I have to be the shiny penny.
I'm the first to rise when it hits two minutes to halftime, excited to just get out of the wind for a few minutes. We huddle at the entrance of the tunnel as the clock winds down.
The football team runs by us, with a few catcalls and whistles that I ignore. The band performs a short number, and then Mrs. Weber steps out into the field holding a microphone.
"Hello Pinehurst Academy! My name is Terri Weber and I am the President of the Miss Americana Pageant. Our event is coming up on November 2nd and we hope you'll join us for a night of glitz and glam. We have some incredibly talented girls this year. And I'd like to introduce them to you now."
I line up last just to keep myself sheltered for as long as possible. She calls each of the girls, and when she gets to me, I take a deep breath and put on the brightest smile.
"Isabella Swan!" My name echoes. I step out and instantly feel eyes on me. I reach up my hand to wave to the crowd, playing the part perfectly. Then something throws me off. Or rather someone.
A loud, obnoxious whistle comes from the other side of the field, at the fence where people usually go to smoke pot. Edward and a small group of boys are at the fence hooting and hollering.
I force my eyes forward again, panicked and happy at the same time. He came.
Mrs. Weber says a few more words, we take some photos for the paper, and we're released to go back to our seats. Instead, I head to the bathroom, hoping to run my hands under some hot water.
As I'm about to open the bathroom door, a short, quick whistle startles me. I look toward the shadows under the bleachers and see his figure.
I check to make sure no one is looking and scurry over to meet him in the darkness.
"What are you doing here, you could get caught!" I whisper, clutching for him. He's warm and all I want is to lose myself in him.
"Worth it to see you look as beautiful as you do right now." I feel him kiss my forehead and I smile.
"You can barely even see me right now," I mumble.
"Probably a good thing, you might make me go crazy." He runs his hands up and down my arms. "You're freezing."
"My mom wouldn't let me wear a coat in."
"What the fuck? It's like forty degrees out," he snaps, pulling off his leather jacket and putting it around my shoulders. "Take this."
"I can't wear this, Edward, you know that." I lean forward and press my head into his chest.
Voices coming toward us startle me and I immediately shrug off the jacket and take a step back.
"Oh, I am so sorry," Mike fakes sincerity and fails miserably. "Did I interrupt?"
"Leave us alone, Mike," I say.
"No. I don't think I will." Mike steps toward Edward but I block his path. "Wow. You're in deeper than I thought, Swan. Too bad I didn't get to have you before he got you dirty."
Now, I'm holding Edward back. "Please," I beg, gripping his shirt. "It's not worth it."
"Fine," he huffs.
"Just go back to your friends, okay. I'll call you later." I hand him back his jacket and stand between him and Mike until they go their respective ways. I head back up to the bleachers to wait out the rest of the game.
It's nearly over when something catches my eye. A group of guys, led by Mike, making their way around the outside of the field toward the area where Edward and his friends are.
"No, no, no," I whisper, watching them get closer.
Edward and his crew stand as they approach. It's too far for me to understand what's being said, but it looks tense and I don't know what to do. What do I do? I search for my dad in the crowd, thinking maybe he can help, but he's engrossed in conversation.
Fuck. This is not going to end well.
Mike pushes Edward back, and next thing I see is Edward launching himself into Mike, both of them falling to the ground.
I shoot out of my seat, at the same time as everyone else because we just scored a touchdown.
The two groups are at each other's throats, in a full out brawl. The rest of the crowd finally notices, and there's a chorus of gasps and pointing and yelling.
I catch my dad's eyes and mouth "Help". He leaps out of his seat, grabs the couple of security guards and they run toward the fight.
My heart is beating a mile a minute. In the mix of bodies, I can't tell who is who and what is what.
"Ladies and Gentleman, we're going to ask that everyone vacate the stadium in a quick and safe fashion," a voice comes over the loud speaker.
The murmurs start again as everyone watches my dad and the guards break it up. I'm pulled up and out of my seat by my mom as the crowd funnels toward the exit. But I don't want to go. I need to know he's okay.
"What an absolute disgrace," she mutters, clenching my arm so tight that it probably would hurt if it wasn't numb. "I don't know why those boys were here anyway, they don't go to these schools."
They were here because of me. This is my fault.
"They weren't the only ones fighting," I remind her.
"Well, I highly doubt our boys started it."
I shake my head and break away from her. "I'll see you at home."
"I'm going to stop at Terri's for a minute," she says, but I barely hear her. I'm too worried.
I wait at my car, pacing back and forth as the parking lot clears out. Where is he?
I try calling him. I try calling my dad. Nobody answers.
My heart drops when I see an ambulance with its lights on round the corner and drive into the stadium. Then, a twig snaps in the trees beside my car.
"Bella," Edward calls.
"Oh, God." I rush toward him.
"I'm fine," he says, putting his hands up.
"You are...not fine." He's got a swollen lip, nasty cut above his eye, and the beginnings of a black eye.
"Your dad grabbed me and took me out of the back exit."
I sigh. Thanks, Dad.
"We need to get you fixed up." I brush my fingers over his face.
"Carlisle's going to kill me," he jokes.
I contemplate. "Come home with me."
"But your mom…"
"Won't be home for a little bit." I open the passenger door for him and usher him in.
Once we get to my house, I double check to make sure my mom isn't home and lead him up to my room. I don't even think twice, strip the dress off, and throw some pajamas on.
"I never thought the first time I'd see you with your clothes off, I'd only be able to see out of one eye. What a rip off," Edward teases.
"Still full of jokes I see." I still had a bra and underwear on. "Stay here."
I head to the bathroom and grab some first aid stuff, and steal a bag of frozen peas from the kitchen.
"Put this on your eye," I say, handing him the peas.
"Yes, ma'am." He obeys.
I take a look at his other injuries and wince. "I'm so sorry." I dab at his lip.
"Why are you sorry?"
"Because of Mike. It was my fault."
"Hey." He grabs my wrist. "I'd take a million and one punches for you." He smiles. "And it wasn't your fault. It was mine. I knew it was a risk going."
I hear the front door close.
"Isabella!" Momma calls.
"Stay quiet." I step out into the hallway and close my bedroom door behind me. If I go talk to her now, she's less likely to try and come in my room.
"Did you speak to your father, did they get everything under control?" She asks, hanging up her coat.
"All under control," I say. I yawn, big and loud, and rub at my eyes. "I'm really tired, Momma, I'm going to go to bed."
"Okay, honey." She sorts through the mail. "Want to join for my Pilates tomorrow morning?"
"Uh, I would but Angela and I are...going shopping."
She nods as I head back upstairs. I slip inside my room and slide the lock into place.
Edward is laying on my bed with the bag of peas over his eye.
I sit at my vanity and start taking the million bobby pins out of my hair.
"How many are you hiding in there?" He asks softly.
"Too many. Gives me such a headache." I glance at him in the mirror as I keep working, tendrils falling with each one.
He stands and comes behind me, throwing the bag back on the bed. His fingers search through my hair, pulling out pin after pin. And when they're all gone, he runs them through the curls, shaking everything out.
I close my eyes and lean back. "That feels good."
He brings his lips down close to my ear. "You're so fucking gorgeous." They brush against my cheek.
"My mom always talks on and on about my hair. Like it's my one true beauty and she'd just die if I ever cut."
"You should cut it."
"What?" I whip around.
"I mean, only if you want to. That's the point, it's your hair."
"Don't guys like their girlfriends to have long hair?" I ask, straddling my chair.
"I don't care how long it is as long as you let me run my fingers through it." He steps back and cocks an eyebrow. "Did you just call yourself my girlfriend?"
"No," I say. "It was just...a generalization." I turn back to my mirror and wipe my makeup off. "Will you stay?"
"There's no place I'd rather be other than your bed."
I blush. He kicks his shoes off as I crawl into bed. He brings the peas back up to his eye and lays his free arm over my waist.
"Could you turn the light off...peas?" He giggles behind me as I roll my eyes and switch off the lamp.
A/N: Thank you for reading!