Chapter 31.
~.~ Bella ~.~
Elizabeth Cullen—Lizzie—is beautiful without even trying.
Her hair is a coppery brown, just like Edward's—except for the gray streaks that frame her face—and it flows in waves down her shoulders. Her eyes are green, deep and telling like those of my favorite Colorado Boy, and it doesn't look like she wears any makeup. She doesn't even need it.
She's friendly, too, and sweet, and just everything I would have expected from the human being responsible for creating a guy like Edward.
There's also an edge to her, with her tattooed arms and her worn-down Vans. Something interesting and fun. Something free.
"Do you want something to eat, honey?" she asks from the kitchen, peeking her head through the breakfast bar opening. "You barely touched your dinner."
"I'm good, thank you." Dinner was burgers and fries. The thought alone turns my stomach. With Daytona barely three months away, I can't afford any cheat meals.
Thankfully, Edward's mom doesn't insist, so I relax.
"Sorry about the mess." She comes back out with two glasses of water, setting them on the coffee table before walking to the corner of the living room, by the window, where there's an easel set up and boxes and canvases stacked all around it.
"No worries…" I sit on the couch as she searches through her paintings.
"There's order in my chaos, I promise." She's definitely not a clean freak like Edward. It makes me smile. "This is the one I mentioned." She comes back, painting in hand, handing it to me.
"Oh, wow..." A full moon over the mountains, behind the trees, all in black and white. "I love the texture of acrylic paint." I feel her eyes on me as she sits while I admire her painting, and when I look up, she's smiling at me.
"I can see why Edward is crazy about you."
"I'm crazy about him too." I set the painting on the table, turning to her. "He's amazing."
"I sometimes worry that he works too hard, that he's too serious, you know? Too…grown up." She laughs and grabs one of the glasses, taking a sip and turning back to me. "He lets himself have fun with you. I like that."
Oh, if only she knew how long it took me to coerce him into having fun with me.
"He's one of the most hardworking people I know," I say with a chuckle, grabbing a glass as well and leaning back on the couch. "It's one of the many things I admire and love about him."
"Funny you say that." Elizabeth cracks a smile, shaking her head. "He says you're one of the most hardworking people he knows…so, I guess you two have that in common."
"I guess so." I smile back at her, but then her face falls and her eyes turn sad.
"Is he happy there?" Her question surprises me, and I turn the glass in my hands. "Is he doing okay?"
"I-I think he is," I say, and I hate that I sound uncertain.
Is Edward happy? I do think so. He is definitely happy when we're together. The way his face lit up as he realized I was in that car last night, that I was here for him, that I had come all the way here to see him. Oh yes, he was happy then. Very happy.
"He's always been so preoccupied with being good at something," Elizabeth continues. "With finding that thing he will do. His 'why,' you know? But I wonder if he enjoys the ride, the learning, the process." Elizabeth waves her hand, turning to look at the window. "If he realizes how talented he is. How many different things he could do."
"He definitely doesn't know how talented he is," I say through a chuckle. "But he's getting there. And the more I watch him coach, the more I am convinced that is his calling. That is the thing that he will do. That's his 'why.' Of course, it's not up to me to say…But look…" I take my phone out of my pocket and find some of the videos I shot of Edward today while he trained the little girls. The ones I edited to capture his proud smile at the end of every stunt—his respectful, gentle, and kind approach. "Just look how good he is at it."
Her eyes shine as they fixate on my phone screen, watching Edward do what he does best.
"Oh my gosh," Elizabeth says, replaying the video one more time before handing me back my phone. "Thank you."
"He'll do just fine." I set my phone on my lap while Elizabeth leans back on the couch, staring at the ceiling.
Silence envelops us for a moment, until she sighs.
"He feels like he has to take care of me," she starts. "But he really doesn't. It should be the other way around."
"It's clear you both take care of each other," I say softly.
"Has he told you about his father?" Still leaning back on the couch, Elizabeth turns her face to me. The pain in her eyes runs deeper than I might ever comprehend.
"He's told me some things." I hope it's okay that I tell her. She doesn't seem embarrassed or resentful, or even surprised that I know.
"I loved him. I really did. We were young and stupid, but so in love." Elizabeth sits up, bringing her legs under her and facing me. "He wasn't a bad guy, not really…or not at first, I guess…but alcohol turned him into a monster."
I nod in encouragement, not really knowing what to say.
"I tried so many times to get him help. But anyway…" She looks down at her hands, twisting her rings over and over again.
"Edward saved my life." She looks up, her eyes watering, so I reach for her hand, hoping it's okay. When she wraps her fingers with mine, I know it is. "Even as a little boy, he had more bravery in him than I could have ever had."
"You were a victim," I say softly. "It's hard to see the light in those situations."
She nods, patting my hand and smiling sadly.
The noise of keys at the door startles both of us, and Elizabeth pulls back quickly, running her fingers under her eyes, catching the few tears that have escaped.
Then Edward comes into the apartment, his eyes immediately finding both of us on the couch, and his lips spread with a tired smile. He shakes his coat off, hanging it on the hooks by the door, then throws his keys on the kitchen counter on his way to us.
Lowering himself to the carpet, he rests his head on the spot on the couch between his mom's and my legs. His gaze flickers from me to her, and that smile appears again on his face, like he's happy to see us, like he's happy we're together.
Yeah, he is happy.
"Alrighty…" Elizabeth scoots off the couch, patting Edward on the shoulder. "I'm going to call it a night and let you kids have some time to yourselves." She smiles at me as she walks around Edward and then to the hallway behind us, the one I assume leads to the bedrooms.
"I love her," I whisper, making Edward chuckle as he pushes himself up on the couch, sinking next to me. He rests his head back, his eyes on me.
"I'm pretty sure she loves you too." His hand reaches for my face, cupping my cheek until I rest my face against his palm. He breathes deeply, pulling me to him. He kisses me softly, once, twice, until he drops his head back on the couch.
His eyes don't lie, droopy eyelids, dark circles under them. "You're tired."
"I'm fine," he says through an exhale.
"C'mere…" I reach for his shoulder and make him turn around. I kneel on the couch with his back to me so my fingers can rub away the knots on his muscles. He moans a little, relaxing further into my hands, dropping his head forward. "Am I sleeping in your room?" I wonder out loud. Elizabeth didn't go over sleeping arrangements.
"Of course," Edward says in a whisper.
"With you?"
He chuckles, straightening up, and peeks back at me over his shoulder. "If you're comfortable with that, yes. If not, I can sleep on the couch or on the floor."
"What about your mom?" I ask with concern, and Edward turns to face me.
"She won't mind," he says reassuringly. "It's okay."
I let that sink in, wondering if this is what it feels like to have easy parents. If we were at my home instead, my mom would probably let him stay in my room, but after quite a bit of begging, and on a mattress on the floor with the door wide open. And Phil? Phil would most definitely patrol the hallway. Maybe they wouldn't let it happen at all. I've obviously never had a boy stay over.
Another thought creeps into my head, and when my eyes meet Edward's, he's curiously staring at me, like he's wondering what I'm thinking.
I don't overthink it, I just ask him instead. "Have you had other girls stay over?"
He shakes his head, smiling.
"Never?"
"No. Never here." He sinks back on the couch, his hand rubbing up and down my thigh. "Are we having the exes talk?"
"I guess we are." I cross my arms over my chest in pretend seriousness. "How many are there?"
"Just two, but I don't even know if they count."
"Oh, they count."
"Okay…" He laughs nervously, looking away and peeking at me through the corner of his eye. "There was a German exchange student. Junior year in high school."
"Was she your first?"
He takes a deep breath, and his eyes train back on mine.
"I want to know," I say softly.
He nods in affirmation, no hesitation.
A German exchange student.
"Was it good?" I raise an eyebrow at him, feeling my cheeks start to burn.
"Swan, c'mon…"
"Tell me, please." I don't know why I want to know. I've always assumed he had experience—more than me, for sure—but it'd be nice to know just how much more.
"Yeah, all five seconds were great."
I chuckle at that, looking down at my hands.
"She was only here one summer, and I've never seen her again."His fingers get in my hair, tucking strands behind my ears.
"What about the other one?"
"Angela, senior year in high school. We dated in school and for a bit after graduation…if you can even call it that. I don't think I was cool enough for her."
"Was she your prom date?"
"I didn't go to prom."
"Really?" I guess I'm not too surprised. I smile a little. It may be for different reasons, but at least we have that in common.
"Not something that interested me." He shrugs.
Poor Angela had no chance.
"Where's she now?"
"Costa Rica, I think. I'm not sure."
We're quiet for a bit, my curiosity placated for now.
"Do you want to know about mine?" I ask, and his eyes turn to me in a glare.
"No." His answer is immediate.
"Because you know there aren't any."
"Because even the thought of someone else's hands on you would kill me." He breathes through his nose, nostrils flaring.
"There's been no one else," I confirm, even though he knew I was a virgin before him. He never made a big deal about it, never let me feel awkward or weird about it.
He drops his head on my shoulder with a relieved sigh, burying his face in my neck.
"I did kiss someone before," I say quickly, and he groans. "Embry Quill, during my rebellious time that summer in Forks. He was the son of one of Charlie's friends."
"I don't want to know." Edward tightens his hands around my waist, pulling me closer.
"I didn't even kiss him…more like let him slobber all over me. It was awful. He was very…drooly."
"Fuck's sake, Swan." Edward is off the couch, holding me up to him. "Stop it," he warns, his tone serious, but there's a glimmer of playfulness in his eyes. His lips twitch too, like he's fighting a smile. "Unless your dad shot him or something, then I'd want to know that part."
I chuckle quietly, wrapping my arms around his neck. "He didn't. Sorry."
"Figured." Edward makes his way around the coffee table, still holding me up, and heads for the hallway.
"Where are we going?" I whisper, still very aware that Elizabeth is behind a door in there somewhere.
"We need to clean your tattoo," Edward explains. "So, I will focus on that instead."
~.~.~
Edward's bedroom is clean and organized, slightly bare. There are two paintings from his mom on his wall—one I recognize: the mountain that is part of the sleeve on his left arm. There's also a Broncos poster over his bed. He's got blue walls and a navy comforter. Simple. Boyish. Neat.
He closes the door behind him. No lock.
He looks at me like he knows I'm freaking out.
I want him. I want to touch him, to kiss him. He looks delicious in his shorts, hanging low on his hips, and no shirt on after he's changed. I want his hands on me, soft and gentle—like he meticulously cleaned and redressed my tattoo for the night—but also hard and desperate—like he can't control himself.
It's not happening though. I know it's not. Not with his mom sleeping in the room across from ours.
"We'll just sleep. It's okay," he says softly, towering in front of me, holding me to him in a little dance. He guides us to the bed, and I get under the covers, on my right side to avoid my tattoo. He shuts the lights and gets in behind me, sneaking an arm under my head and the other over my hips.
"I still can't believe you're here." I feel his breathing behind my neck as he pulls on the neck of the T-shirt I'm wearing—his shirt—and kisses my shoulder. "I love you, Swan."
"I love you too." I wrap my arm over his, pulling him closer and hugging him to me while backing into him. He breathes out harshly in my neck as I can feel him, all of him, hard and ready against my backside. So much for just sleep.
"I'm sorry…" he whispers, slightly pulling back so that he's no longer pressed against my ass.
I turn onto my back and look at him. His eyes are tightly closed, almost in a wince. Curiosity nags at me again. "Does that really hurt?"
"Does what hurt?" He opens one eye, taking another deep breath.
"You know…blue balls."
He chuckles, making me laugh as well.
"Does it though?" I push as his eyes close again.
"A little. Sometimes. It's mostly just uncomfortable."
"So how do you get rid of it?" My hand reaches for his neck, traveling down to his chest.
His eyes open wide, and he raises an eyebrow at me. "Well, there's the obvious way." When my hand reaches over to his bulge, he stops me, one hand clasping tightly around my wrist.
"Please don't." He breathes out his plea.
"So what's the other way?" I take my hand off him, hoping to help.
"I just breathe it away. Think about something else to distract myself, which is kind of difficult with you right here." He smiles at me, reaching for my face.
"What do you think about?" I ask through a giggle.
"Random stuff. School. Work…"
"Stunting?"
"No."
"Sandwiches?" We're both fully laughing at this point.
"Yeah…" he half says through a chuckle. "Tuna salad. Did you know we mix that by hand? With gloves, but still…"
"Ew…" I cover my mouth, trying to contain my laughter as it gets louder.
"C'mere…" He wraps his hands around my waist and pulls me over him. "Let's just switch sides." We're face to face then. He bends one arm under his head, while the other remains over my hips. His eyes flutter closed as he takes a deep breath.
I know he's tired, and I should be too, but my mind won't shut up.
"Hey, Cullen?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you happy?" The question has been looping in my head ever since Elizabeth asked me.
His eyes open slowly and land on mine with a sigh. "What do you mean?"
"Like with school and cheer and life?"
He turns on his back and breathes out, staring at the ceiling for a bit, before turning back to face me. "Yeah. Do I not seem happy?"
"You're a little difficult to read sometimes."
"I am happy," he starts. "School is challenging, but interesting. I've done better at cheer than I could have ever dreamed. I've got coaching now too, which I never thought would be so…fulfilling. And life? You just have to take that one step at a time, right?"
"Right." I run my fingers on his arm, tracing patterns up to his neck.
"And I've got you." His eyes burn into mine, making me warm all over. "You make everything better, Swan. School. Cheer. Life. All of it."
I pull him to me, bring his lips to mine, because I feel my throat closing with emotion.
"You make me better too," he says against my lips. "I don't know where I would be without you."
"You'd still be kicking ass," I say, and it's the truth.
"Not like this, no." He pulls back, his eyes searching mine. "You make me feel like I can have everything. That there are no limits. I can't fucking wait to win everything with you. To hold you up and have you shine on my hands. The partner stunt. The team championship. Everything."
"Everything?"
"Everything." His hand cups my face, his thumb rubbing over my cheek. "Everything with you."
Lost in his eyes, I don't see his next words coming, as he throws my question—Elizabeth's question—back at me. "Are you happy?"
"I am happy with you." I kiss him again, sealing my words with my lips. "I love you so much."
"I love you too, Swan." He closes his eyes with a content sigh, tightening his arm around my waist.
I stay still, quiet, letting him sleep.
I don't know why my eyes water. I don't know why I feel gloomy all of the sudden. I love him. I do. And I want everything with him too. I feel invincible when we're together. But the truth is, I have to return home tomorrow morning, and while I was extremely careful, I'm terrified my parents will find out I disobeyed them again. I'm afraid Phil will make threats, and we will have to renegotiate our terms. I'm afraid my mom will be on his side...again.
They can't keep me away from Edward though, not while I'm still at Summit, not with the championship looming. There's nothing they can threaten me with that would make me step away from Edward. Even if I lose everything, I'd still have him, and that is all I care about.