DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the intellectual property of the respective author. The original characters and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.
-Chapter Six-
Edward took me out to the desert north of Phoenix. Considering the hundred-degree heat, it was an odd choice, but he said we couldn't go to an indoor shooting range because I wasn't eighteen.
Again, my age hindered me, and I had to suppress a sigh.
I wondered if he thought of me as a kid, though. The way he looked at me in the car and what he said suggested that he didn't. And despite being so adamant about it, it was hard to believe that he would be staying away from me just because it was illegal.
Yes, when it comes to Edward, I use that word loosely.
"This is a Custom Colt .38 Super," Edward said, displaying the pistol to me.
This particular gun of his was new. He liked to keep it in the glove box of his car. It was his baby, and he went on and on about it for twenty minutes. The silver gun was shiny and reflective, and as he held it up, explaining how the bullet discharged from it, I could see my bored expression gazing back at me.
I just wanted to get started already.
"It's got nine rounds to a clip and—" He stopped mid-sentence, dropping his hand and narrowing his eyes. "What's the problem?"
I sighed, my frustration coming out. "I don't see the point in all this detail. A gun is just a gun."
"A gun is not just a gun, Bella," he said, clearly angry with me. "You have to know what you got in your hand before you even think about using it."
My mind went straight to the gutter with that one, and I giggled. "Is that a metaphor for something?"
Obviously, it was a tasteless joke, but Edward wasn't in a joking mood.
He glowered at me. "Do you want to shoot my gun or not?"
I bit my tongue.
Everything he said sounded sexual, and I didn't know whether or not it was done on purpose or maybe I was too hopeful by twisting his words and making them seem flirtatious.
It was silly. Edward wasn't interested in me. I was grasping at thin air, trying to capture the unattainable.
"Yes, I'm sorry," I said, getting serious, "please continue."
"All right, like I was saying, it has nine rounds to a clip. Here," he said, handing over the gun. It was cold to the touch and nearly slipped out of my sweaty grasp. He placed his firm hands on my hips and spun me away from him.
My back was pressed against his chest, causing a visceral reaction in my body. My face was flushed, and my throat dried up as my heart was beating faster and faster and faster, with no end in sight.
Thump, thump, thump, thump.
He moved his hands from my waist, past my heaving chest, to my arms, and down to my hands. He slid his fingers over mine, interlocking them.
"Grip the gun with both hands," he whispered. "You got it?"
"Uh huh," I mumbled.
It was hard to concentrate on anything other than him.
His breath was on my neck, sending shivers down my spine. The whiskers on his face tickled my shoulder as he rested his chin against it. Every muscle in his chest was hard, and I relaxed into him, relishing the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around me.
I was starting to like this impromptu shooting lesson.
"Now, raise the gun," he said.
I did.
"Lock your elbows and grip it tightly."
"Okay."
His hands slowly moved away from mine and my arms, leaving a fiery sensation in their wake. The ascent of his touch continued up my body until it was no longer there.
I wanted to shout at him and tell him to come back.
"Put your finger on the trigger." His voice was somewhere behind me now. He wasn't far, but he wasn't close, either.
I nodded, following his directions by the letter.
"Now there's safety on the trigger. When you pull it, you're going to have to really squeeze it, okay? You gotta use a lot of force to get it to fire."
"Yeah, okay," I replied, my breath coming out short and ragged.
My eyes were gazing out to nothing but cacti and Palo Verde trees. The empty wasteland went on for miles, with jagged brown mountains as its backdrop. Where the bullet would go, I had no clue. There wasn't a target or way of knowing if I was even shooting straight.
I breathed in deeply, trying to calm my frazzled nerves.
"That's a good girl," he whispered into my neck.
I nearly groaned in response.
Edward was trying to kill me.
How was I supposed to stay focused when he was talking to me this way?
I was seventeen, and my hormones were raging, and this guy—this tattooed and pierced-up bad boy—was touching me, whispering in my ear, and being all sexy-like.
I wasn't apt for this kind of torture.
"Listen carefully, Bella," Edward said, capturing my attention and pulling me out of my inner hell. "The recoil is going to be powerful. Especially for someone like you who's never shot a gun before. Just keep your elbows straight and locked, and try to anticipate as much of the force as possible, got it?"
I gulped. "Sure."
His presence and warmth disappeared from my back. He felt the need to put some distance between us, which worried me.
"How strong is this recoil?" I asked nervously.
He chuckled, sensing my hesitance. "It's pretty strong. Just do what I told you and keep those elbows locked."
"Oh…okay," I said.
Time froze as I waited for his next word.
"Are you ready?"
"No! Yes…maybe. I don't know."
I was terrified.
"Take your time. There's no rush. Pull the trigger when you're ready."
I stood there with my arms raised, gun pointed, and absolutely no courage. In truth, guns kind of scared me. What if something weird happened, and it blew up in my face?
Edward laughed. "It's not going to blow up in your face. Trust me."
"I can't do this," I said.
He walked up to me, placing his hands on my hips, and roughly yanked me against him.
"Yes, you can. Aim and fire."
Inhaling through my nose, I tightened all of my muscles, locking my elbows and slowly squeezing the trigger.
Pop.
The gun went off; the power of it forced my hand back and hit me squarely in the face.
I hadn't anticipated that, and that shit hurt like hell.
"Fuck!" Edward hissed, swinging me around to face him. He brushed the hair from my face with his brow etched in concern. "Baby, are you all right?"
I scrunched up my face, feeling the hot sting. "Yeah, I'm fine. I think i just hit my chin with the butt of the gun."
He didn't seem too convinced. "Are you sure? It didn't fucking look fine from where I was standing." He tenderly touched the place my hand and gun smacked me. "It might bruise."
"Great," I said, rolling my eyes. But, of course, that was just one more thing to make me less attractive to Edward. "I'm fine, really," I said, trying to convey to him that my injuries weren't severe. "In fact," I grinned, "I want to do it again."
A faint smile crept on his face, his eyes searching mine, and for a second, a flicker in time, I could see his head leaning towards mine. He was going to kiss me.
I could feel it.
Then something clicked inside of him, and the next thing I knew, he was pulling away from me and taking a giant step back. The distance he put between us now was more than it'd ever been.
He waved towards the vast nothingness, and his tone was just as empty.
"Remember to lock your arms."