So we could be friends

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Thanks to:
Di, my editor,
and Paige and Aileen, my prereaders.

Stupid Little Game
Chapter 16

The school parking lot was nearly empty when I arrived, but I noticed Edward Cullen's vehicle in its usual spot in the back row.

Figured he'd be on time. He was probably already seated at our table with his don't look at me, don't talk to me body language firmly in place, scowling, his eyes spewing hate.

Not that I should know that, because he didn't like me staring at him, but I was a master of the side-glance. And he usually always had a scowl on his face.

I pulled into a spot near the front of the building, and my truck backfired loudly as I turned off the ignition. I winced, but there was no one around to notice.

Where was everyone? It was almost time for the first bell, which meant a lot of people were going to be late. The weather was cold, but clear for November, so that couldn't account for the nearly empty lot. There weren't any teacher conferences, either, and Thanksgiving was still a few weeks away.

I made my way across the parking lot, hearing the whip of the flag mounted on its post as the wind blew it back and forth. It was at half-mast.

Crap, had someone died? Was there some sort of holiday I'd forgotten? Had they called off school for some reason?

When I got to the entrance doors, I almost expected them to be locked, but they opened easily. I stepped inside out of the cold like walking into a vacuum of heat, my hair blowing forward and blinding me until the doors banged closed again.

There was no one in the hallway, and it was eerily silent.

I walked quickly to my locker, my sneakers squinch-squinch-squinching across the floor.

Maybe it was nerves, but my combination wasn't working, and I was beginning to panic when someone's locker door slammed closed behind me. I jumped and spun around, but no one was there.

"Hello?" I asked, and cringed as my voice echoed.

Something was off. Something didn't feel right.

With renewed fervor, I turned back to my locker and forced the dial. This time, it opened. I stowed my English lit book inside, then grabbed my biology and pre-calculus books. Gently, quietly, I pushed the door closed again.

Then I was squinching down the hallway again, faster this time.

Two minutes away from the first bell, I rushed into biology, stopping abruptly just inside the door. I cradled my books against my chest tightly as I eyed the room. Except for Edward, it was empty.

No way.

His head rose from the book he was reading, registering me with his usual glare before dismissing me.

"Are you just going to stand there?" he asked after I didn't move.

"Maybe," I said . . . and stood there rebelliously for a few more moments.

There was an odd hush in the air, as if the entire building was holding its breath. It made me conscious that I was holding my own. Was I in the Twilight Zone? Was I being punked?

But Edward was there; surely, no one would dare punk him.

"Where . . . where is everyone?" I dared to ask, taking care not to stutter.

"Hell if I know," he answered shortly.

Reluctantly, because I didn't exactly want to be alone with Edward, I made my way back to the table, casting my gaze behind me as if someone else was going to appear magically.

No one did.

I placed my books on the table, and then, instead of pulling my chair back, I lifted it so it wouldn't screech across the floor. Beside me, Edward chuckled darkly, and it was such a surprising sound coming from him that I broke the rule and stared at him as I sat.

A tiny crinkle appeared on his forehead as he scowled down at his book, his dark eyebrows low over his eyes. His upper lip and jaw were lightly shaded with blond whiskers, giving him a rakish look. And of course, he was beautiful, even with what looked like dried tear tracks on his cheeks.

I gaped, doing a double take.

"I can feel you staring at me," he gritted, and I turned my head away.

Should I . . . should I tell him he looked like he'd been crying? I mean, wouldn't he want to know something like that?

The bell rang, startling me so badly that I yelped and jumped.

Edward sighed and lifted his head, and I couldn't help myself and turned to meet his eyes. Expecting to see his death stare, instead I found sadness and something that looked like agony.

"You're a fucking mess," he told me in his usual biting tone, but it didn't match his stare. Didn't match with how his eyes filled with tears as we looked at each other.

"Eh-Edward? Are you . . . okay?"

Tears ran unchecked down his face. "You shouldn't ask me that," he whispered, and spun away from me, showing me his back. "Fuck off, leave me alone."

My mouth opened and closed like a fish. It didn't make sense, how he looked, and what he was saying. Something was very wrong.

The words came unbidden. "What's wrong?"

"Why the fuck do you care?"

"I just do. What's wrong?"

As he turned back to face me, Young Edward morphed into Older Edward, the anguished look on his face turning into one of weary relief.

"No one's ever asked me that before," he said.

I gasped and opened my eyes, heart hammering in my chest.

It was a dream. Just a dream.

But I was on the edge of tears, and there was tightness in my throat. I sat up, my hand rising to my neck to cup it.

Had anyone ever asked Young Edward if he'd been all right?

I bowed my head over my knees, because I knew . . . I somehow knew no one ever had. But I also knew it had partly been his own fault, because he'd been so damn volatile all the time. If only he'd have taken a chance and let down his guard, talked to someone, even to me, we might have been friends instead of enemies. And God, he'd needed a friend . . .

Looking over at the clock, I saw it was almost six a.m.

But in my mind, I kept seeing the last image of Edward's face—anguished, weary, with tear-filled eyes—and I was racked with guilt that I hadn't noticed something was wrong with him back then. Even though I knew what I was feeling was misplaced, even though I knew if I had noticed something was wrong, he would never have been receptive to me. In our real past life, Edward would have bitten my head off if I'd asked him if he was okay. In real life, he'd have never cried a tear in front of me. Or anyone, probably. So it was pointless trying to imagine otherwise.

Shake it off, I told myself. He's come through all of that. He survived.

It was only because of my new relationship with him that this feeling of guilt persisted. Our closeness was opening the door for feelings I wasn't used to having about him, especially in light of what he'd shared. But dreams were funny things, in that they didn't have to make sense to affect my mood. My instinct was to go to Edward and beg him to forgive me, which I knew was crazy.

It was crazy.

Nervous energy had me springing out of bed as if I was bursting out of a rabbit hole. I moved over to the sliding patio doors and brushed the curtain aside. Above the tall buildings in the distance, the sky was changing from indigo to a lighter blue, with hints of orange and pink peeking through the branches of the trees below. Only a few cars were driving down the street, and someone was jogging on the sidewalk.

That was what I needed: a workout. It would help settle my mind and my jangling limbs that wouldn't still. It was hours yet before I had to be at work . . . which presented a whole new set of worries. Just the thought of seeing Edward had my stomach knotting into anxious anticipation.

I moved to my bathroom's walk-in closet, where I grabbed my one piece swimsuit off its peg. I pulled it on, then shrugged into a thigh-length terry cloth robe. Stuffing my hair under the swim cap was a workout in and of itself.

Instead of taking the elevator, I ran down the stairs to the basement, where the underground pool was located. It was a perk I paid forty extra dollars a month for, but rarely took advantage of, for some reason. This morning, I needed its meditative peace badly.

Larry, the lifeguard on duty, was already perched on the short platform. He lifted his head from his newspaper and waved hello to me.

"It's been a while since you've been down here," he called. "Where have you been?"

Retired early from his job as a truck engineer, divorced, and with two kids who were always too busy to come see him, he served as the morning lifeguard three times a week. He was a sweet man but a huge talker and over-sharer, so I'd learned to keep my replies short, and to walk fast.

"Hi, Larry," I called back. "Just been busy."

There was another person doing laps at the fast end of the pool. I decided to choose a lane at the far side, away from Larry and the overachiever swimmer. Shrugging off my robe, I left it hanging on a wall hook. Then, pulling my water goggles down over my eyes, I walked to the edge of the pool and hopped lightly into the mesmerizing blue expanse of water. It wasn't heated, and I gasped at its bite of cold against my skin, before propelling myself forward and under. I kicked my feet furiously, swimming freestyle and with wide arms before I finally had to come up for air. My lungs were out of practice, as I wasn't even halfway across the pool. By the time I reached the other end, my limbs were starting to loosen up, but my flip turn was damn sloppy.

Move your ass, girl.

The kinetic water created snake-like streaks of white lighting on the bottom of the floor as I sliced through it in a front crawl. I was getting warmed up now, my muscles lengthening as I aimed myself at the far wall. Left arm, right arm, breathe, and keep kicking.

Feelings of misplaced guilt aside, I was in a good mood. I felt light and almost carefree, and knew it was because of Edward. Because my anger with him had dissolved. Because he had trusted me with his own story. Because everything between us had changed. We had changed for each other, and with each other, and it was bound to make a difference in our interactions.

And I couldn't help wondering how.

After he'd left yesterday morning, I had forced myself to stay up so my sleep pattern wouldn't be disrupted. Embarrassed about my dirty, sloppy apartment, I'd spent most of the day cleaning . . . while replaying our words and actions.

Like how Edward had stared at my mouth and admitted he was confused about his feelings for me. Simply remembering it sent a thrill through my body. I'd wondered before if he was attracted to me, but having it confirmed also made me uneasy. Wasn't it weird—unnatural even—for him to have romantic thoughts about someone he used to terrorize?

Wasn't it weirder still to have reciprocating thoughts about someone who'd once bullied me? Never mind he was my boss now; he used to humiliate me deliberately. What would Freud say about that?

I was freaking out a little because after having kept him at arm's length for so long, being away from him now made me miss him. Like a junkie, I was craving that closeness with him again. That bone-deep connection that had alleviated so much pain, replacing it with warmth and tenderness as he'd stared at me . . . making my heart beat insanely out of control. I'd never felt anything so overwhelming, so powerful. Not even in my early relationship with Paul—who'd been my boyfriend first before he'd been a fuck buddy—had anything I felt then come close to what I was feeling for Edward now.

We'd been so horrible to each other in the past. Had hated each other with a passion. Now it felt like that passion had transcended hatred into something even more powerful. Something that made me miss a person I'd seen only hours ago—someone whose stare could calm me, at the same time it did funny things to my chest. It was like that adage about there being a thin line between love and hate, but I never would have thought it applied to my own situation.

It isn't love, I told myself.

It was something close, though. Infatuation based on a shared traumatic experience, maybe.

Whatever it was, it made me want to hear the sound of Edward's low voice close against my ear again. Made me want to feel his hard chest under the palms of my hands. Made me want to run my thumb across the divot in his lower lip.

It made me want him not to be confused anymore, and that terrified me.

I knew it was too soon to act on these feelings, if they even lasted. With a twinge of unease, I wondered again if maybe our emotional interactions had simply over-stimulated or affected me, and that was why I was feeling the way I was. Could it be that I was simply mistaking feelings of a new friendship, which had been forged in high drama, for something more?

I didn't think I'd know until I saw Edward again, and that was the scary part.

My overactive imagination and worries propelled me through five more laps before I'd had enough and climbed out of the pool. Larry noticed and hopped off the platform, so I quickened my steps. I grabbed and pulled on my robe, then was out the door before I'd removed the swim goggles from my eyes.

I'm sorry, but I don't feel like listening to you today, Larry. My mind is already bursting at the seams.

Later, giddy and ridiculous, I dressed with care for work in a high-waisted, blue plaid miniskirt and a white ruffled collar blouse. It was a feminine business look, yet subtly sexy. With my hair pulled back into a low bun, I thought I looked like a librarian or a school teacher. All I needed was a pair of eyeglasses.

Before I left, I lifted the throw pillow Edward had been sitting against to my nose, inhaling deeply. For the fifth time? The sixth?

It still smelled like him.

Psycho, I called myself.

I found myself looking for Edward in the crowd of people as soon as I entered the building, but he wasn't among any of the men I saw. Of course, he usually arrived before I did. It was purely a fluke that day we'd arrived at the same time . . . that day I'd thanked him for smoothing the way with Riley.

I smiled at the memory; even then, he'd been looking out for me.

When I stepped foot inside Smith and Devaney, my gaze darted right to Edward's office. The light was on, but it was empty.

"Good morning, Bella," Jessica said. As the company's receptionist, her desk was located just inside the glass doors, and my one-track eyes had skipped right over her.

"Oh, hi, Jessica. How are you?"

Jessica launched into details about her Saturday night date with her boyfriend, and I paused in front of her with a polite smile. Moments later, I caught sight of a dark gray business suit out of the corner of my eye. The way my hair stood up all over my body screamed that it was Edward.

Jessica noticed him a second after my body's response did, and stopped mid-word.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said, his voice low and apologetic.

He was right beside me, and then he reached out an arm and placed his hand on top of Jessica's desk, close enough that the sleeve of his suit brushed against my arm. Every drop of blood in my body ignited.

"Would you please show Johnathon Tate into the conference room when he arrives at nine-thirty?"

He could have called Jessica on the phone. Or sent a Teams message. Or spoken to her from a few feet away, but he'd moved in close beside me instead.

I turned my head slightly and found a pair of eyes almost as heavily lashed as mine were. They were gorgeous, soft, and light grayish-green today. Coupled with his gentle smile, I went lightheaded at his nearness.

"Hi, Bella," he said, withdrawing his arm, careful not to brush against me again. Unfortunately. Or maybe fortunately, considering I was already suffering from tactile overload.

A couple of beats passed.

Oh!

"Good morning, Edward," I said, and my damn voice, which was still a bit hoarse and noticeably breathless.

Edward's smile widened, then he retreated quickly, so quickly he missed my answering smile.

"Yeah, he has that effect on me, too," Jessica said with a sigh.

I straightened with a jerk, nodding my head like a marionette. Then I shook it back and forth, giving Jessica a look like she was crazy.

"He's my boss," I said, reminding myself as much as her.

"I know," she purred, setting her chin into the palm of her hand. "Is he a good one?"

"He's a good boss," I told her firmly and retreated.

The office was buzzing with voices and people hurrying to their desks as I walked to my own.

Get it together, I scolded myself.

"Hi, Bella," Seth said as I approached. "How was your weekend?"

Explosive. Emotional. Heartbreaking, yet kind of hot.

"It was good, thanks," I answered with a smile.

"Hey, do you want to grab lunch with me today? It's been a while," he added when he saw my hesitation. "Time for us to catch up."

I nodded. "Okay, sure. Twelve-thirty?"

"See you then," he replied with his signature wink.

"Morning, Bella," Alice said, as I stowed my purse in the bottom drawer of my desk. "How was your weekend?"

It was Monday morning's recurring theme.

I repeated what I'd told Seth. "It was good."

Alice squinted her eyes at me, and I remembered with dread that she disliked trite statements.

"Good? Good how?"

I paused.

Well, I had a talk with Edward on Saturday night that changed my life.

But I found myself not wanting to share that with her. At least not yet, and maybe not for a while. It was still too tender, too private. Right now, I wanted to keep it between Edward and me.

"I caught up with my friend Rose, introduced her to Emmett Saturday night when we ran into him—I think they hit it off, by the way—and had a good workout this morning. The endorphins are flowing," I told her. "How about you?"

She told me that she and Jasper had gone to some restaurant downtown, and that it was expensive but life-changing, which I thought was odd and amusing, considering my own thoughts about life changing events.

"What's on tap for today?" she wondered.

"Well, this morning, I'm editing content for Lyon and Healy's social media, and looking for art for their holiday theme," I said as I brought up my notes from last week. They were harp makers, which they touted as majestic works of art and sound. As some of the harps were made of 23+ karat gold, I had to agree.

Sometime later, I grabbed my coffee mug and carried it to the kitchen. I was at the sink washing it out when the hair on my neck rose.

"How was the rest of your Sunday?" Edward asked as he leaned against the counter beside me, arms across his chest, eyes laser-focused on me.

My gaze dropped to the discolored marks on the bottom of his chin where I'd hit him, and I cringed internally. What was he telling people about it? But whoa, that striking face of his . . . and the soft, wide-open look in his eyes had me forget what I was doing. Water overfilled my cup and doused the bottom of my sleeve.

We'd met in the kitchen before, but had never stopped to talk. Well, I had never stopped to talk to him. Once he entered the kitchen, I usually left immediately.

"Um, I spent it cleaning," I answered after a moment. "You never know when someone unexpected might show up. I'd be horribly embarrassed if anyone saw it the way it was before."

He tilted his head, then turned to tear a paper towel off the roll before handing it to me. "I think anyone would find it difficult to notice anything but you while in your apartment, Bella."

I huffed out a surprised laugh. "Oh, nice. Aren't you an unobservant charmer?"

"I'm very observant, but I was definitely otherwise occupied."

Speechless, I made a face at his smooth reply, then carried my cup over to the coffee pot. Behind me, I heard a cabinet open and close, then he was standing beside me again with his own cup. It was as if there was an invisible tether between us, as if he wanted to be near me, too, and gentle heat rolled through my body.

After I filled my cup, I turned to his, feeling oddly nurturing.

"Thank you," he said, and it sounded tender. Or maybe it was just my imagination.

"Will you have dinner with me tonight?"

Well, that wasn't my imagination.

I looked up at him in shock. "Are you really . . . are you really–"

"As friends," he interrupted. "Friends can have dinner, can't they?"

He actually looked nervous as he waited for my answer, and sorry I'd caused it, I hastened to ease his worry.

"Yes," I said, and was rewarded by his full stunner of a smile.

And there came the butterflies.

Fuck, that smile should be outlawed.

"Good morning," someone drawled, and I turned to see Tanya, striking in an emerald silk blouse, standing in the doorway. "Don't you two look cozy."

How long had she been there? I felt vulnerable, as if my feelings for Edward were on vivid display. Were we standing too closely to each other? Fuck, had she heard him ask me to dinner?

"We're just bonding over coffee," I said quickly, and heard Edward chuckle.

"Good morning, Tanya," he said coolly; then to me, not as cool: "I'll send you the details."

He'll send me the details.

Heart still pounding with overactive nerves, I stepped to the side and added creamer and sugar to my coffee. Damn it, my hand was shaking. I dropped a stir stick into my cup, then with a quick glance back at Edward, left.

He was still watching me closely, and I felt the power of his gaze like an electric shock.

Don't look at me that way when Tanya is around, I wanted to tell him.

After that, it was a challenge staying on track with work. For the rest of the day, really. And after Edward sent a text message to my phone, my brain took a one-way bus straight to Distractionville.

It's only fair since I've seen your place, you come and see mine. 155 N. Harbor Drive, Unit 2913. It's the Harborpoint Condos near DuSable Harbor. I make a mean chicken parmesan. How does seven sound?

Wow. I already knew he could cook, but he lived in a condo overlooking the lake?

Seven sounds great. I look forward to tasting your mean chicken parm. Can I bring anything?

I watched the dots dance as he made his reply.

Just you. That's all I need.

Biting my lip, I studied his reply as if it was a cypher to solve. Did he mean he didn't need anything else, like French bread or wine . . . or was he implying that he just needed me?

I tried not to read anything more into it, and went back to my work.

If Lyon and Healy switched to the program I was thinking of for the new holiday campaign, it would help them track their client data.

It had to be my overactive imagination. I was obviously still feeling the bond of having bared our souls. It was just the novelty of it all.

I could set up a test account for Lyon and Healy, just to show them how easy it was.

But he obviously felt that bond, too. It was in his eyes, in his body language.

Then again, the company wouldn't want me to make it too easy for Lyon and Healy to use, because they might decide they no longer needed us. Maybe I shouldn't go that route.

So we could be friends, like he'd said. I . . . could be friends with the person who'd once bullied me so viciously. I'm sure stranger things have happened.

No, my conscience wouldn't allow me to discount the program. I owed it to Lyon and Healy to share it. They only had a small customer base, and the program would help them grow.

Unlikely friends who are attracted to each other? That's not going to be complicated at all. But he needs a friend, because who does he have now? He lost his brother, his best friend.

That painful thought brought me up short, and had me turning and glancing toward his office before I knew what I was doing. Who, besides me, his psychiatrist, and his shitty parents, knew about his painful past?

Edward had his headset on; I saw his shoulder move as he gesticulated while talking. Then, as if he felt my gaze, he suddenly looked my way.

Our eyes held for a long moment, until I forced myself to turn back around.

He's not alone anymore. I could be a friend.

As unlikely and odd and probably crazy as it was.