A/N: Thanks for all of the birthday wishes! Now that my birthday is over, I seriously can't wait for October! Bring on the sweater weather!
Thanks to Sally for fixing all of my embarrassing mistakes!
19
Nothing. I could be nothing, and I didn't care one bit. Whatever he needed—whatever he wanted—I would become. Somehow. Someway. Right now, I was water, waiting to take the form of whatever vessel I was poured into. These limbs no longer felt like mine. Nor these eyes. Nor my mouth. Everything was his. Every cell and every once.
God, what was I thinking? Was I drunk on the way he looked at me? Or on the way he spoke? His honesty should have cut into me, tearing open new wounds while giving me the reminder that I wasn't worth the effort. However, those truthful words only made me want him more. I'd chase after him—prove him wrong—and make him realize that I was worth the effort.
When he said nothing, looking at me with a grim expression, I stepped back. If he didn't want this—if he didn't want me—why was I pushing him? Pressure had always worn me down, and later, I dealt with its aftermath and my regret. I didn't want that for him. I couldn't do that to him after all that he'd been through.
So, I turned away, meaning to walk back to the break room to deal with my emotions there. Somehow, I would have to get over this. I would have to move on. Perhaps, the past was a place where we were both living in. Here and now, we weren't ready for.
Before I could reach the breakroom, I heard footsteps behind me. They sounded quick and desperate. Arms wrapped around me, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe or think. Again, I was consumed by him while trying to understand how I could possibly let him go.
How could I move on as he held me so close? His words were one thing, but his actions were something entirely different. They spoke to something greater than both of us. Every move he made seemed to fill the entire room. I could feel him in the air. Inside my body. Everywhere.
With his chest pressed against the hard line of my back, I felt his breath tickle my shoulder. His glasses poked against the back of my neck as he leaned into me as if he wanted me to support his weight. I did and closed my eyes as he tightened his hold on me.
Did he fear I would run from him? Did he really believe that one denial that barely felt like a denial at all would be the final straw? What was his expression now? Was it as pained as mine? With every breath, I could feel the weight of the present moment. My brows furrowed, and my lips twisted into an uncomfortable frown. Edward must look the same way. Our feelings were so different and yet so similar and expressed with the same melancholy grimace.
Needing to see him, I twisted in his embrace. He pulled his head back away from my neck but was still close enough for me to feel every single one of his breaths. With tired eyes and a desperate expression, his gaze met mine. The words he had used before now felt so meaningless.
"I … Bella … I. This is not about you. I just feel like … I can't. Last time … there was so much pain. If I gave into this … to this feeling … if anything happened, I don't know what I'd do. What if your feelings change? What if something happened to you? I just …"
These words from minutes ago were still ringing in my head, but as I looked at him, they all felt null and void. His eyes fell from my eyes to my lips, and his gaze hovered there for a moment as a pained and confused expression covered his face. Conflict filled his eyes, and for a moment, it looked like he was going to turn around and leave me standing near the breakroom door.
Acceptance filled me, and I stepped back with the full intention of leaving the room. I wanted to leave him standing there—he was the one who needed to process this after all. Not me. I was standing here, waiting to meet him at any distance. He was the one who was holding back.
Not that I blamed him for it. I didn't blame him for anything. He was still drowning in grief. After all, so was I.
Before I could turn away from him, his grip tightened on my shoulders. Surprise filled me, and as I turned to meet his gaze again, his lips found mine. This kiss was desperate—almost a plea to get me to stay. For a moment, he felt like me, unable to express his feelings through words.
Everything before had been him thinking out loud. Those were thoughts belonging to what he felt he should say. Perhaps he didn't feel like it was right to move on. If he started a new chapter, he'd have to admit that a previous chapter was finished. That could be the most difficult things. Just like going to sleep and effectively ending a day.
Desire and desperation oozed from his lips. He let his tongue flirt with my mouth, imploring me to open my lips for him. I did, and he slipped his tongue inside, filling me in a way that barely felt like enough. My body ached for him. I wanted to open up and let him fill my emptiness. With the force of his kiss, I felt myself moving back toward the wall. His body guided mine, and as soon as my back was pressed against the empty wall next to our breakroom door, he trapped me there.
Both of his arms left my body so that his hands could rest on either side of the wall. The way he loomed over me, blocking any escape, made my core flutter. I wanted him here and now, and I didn't care who saw. If I were bolder and my relationship with him were different, I'd be brave enough to reach out and cup his crotch with my hand. I needed to feel if he desired me just as I desired him.
Was his cock rock hard and ready for me? The thought of an erection pulsing against the fabric of his trousers made me even wetter. I pressed my thighs together, hoping to relieve some of the tension but the action only amplified it. As he pressed me up against the wall, I clung to him, letting him take every bit of my breath away.
A moan escaped my lips, passing through my mouth and into his as I let my thighs rub back and forth as I stood there, desperate for any amount of relief. He seemed to notice this as he let himself lose control even more. He pressed his entire body against me, letting me feel the weight of him, but before anything else could happen, he broke the kiss and pulled away.
Needy and desperate, feeling my core wet and slick against the fabric of my panties, I stood there watching him with glassy eyes and flushed cheeks. In that moment, I must have looked like a mess. I felt like a mess.
His breath was erratic, and with a frustrated look, he combed through his hair with his fingers before gazing up at me. Now, that frustrated look was replaced with something almost apologetic, and as I saw that, I couldn't breathe.
Did he not want this, after all? One second, it feels like he wants to give me the world, and another second, it seems as though he doesn't want me at all. His emotions were giving me whiplash, and if I were a coward, I'd walk away now. However, the past had hardened me, and in this moment, I realized I was far stronger than I'd ever thought.
I peered at him with a confused expression, hoping that it read as, "What's wrong? Please open up to me."
"I—I'm sorry," he stuttered out, still short on breath. "I shouldn't have … Not when I feel like this. Not when I feel so lost."
I shook my head, hoping that he would understand that it was all right. Confusion was understandable. This must have been his first try at love since the accident. If there was hope for us, I could find patience. He was worth the wait. Besides, he needed to be patient with me too. Now, I may feel fine but who knew what tomorrow could bring. So much trauma was looming in my mind, waiting for me to open it enough to let everything escape. I was keeping it closed with lock and key, but soon, whatever was inside that box would overpower me. Then, I'd be desperate to feel a sliver of what I do now.
The funny thing—or, perhaps, the depressing thing—was that now, I was barely getting by. My life had been a series of me barely getting by. A day without something devastating felt like a win. God, how dismal was that? Would I ever get a period of true happiness? Would something like that be too much to ask for?
"You don't deserve this, Bella."
The way he said that made my stomach turn. He was leaving now, wasn't he? This was the beginning of our end. Could I let him go? After the way he'd made me feel, could I lose him?
"You should find someone and be happy."
You make me happy, I wanted to say. You make me feel things I've never felt. Don't take that away. Please, don't take that away.
Words were lost on my tongue. So, I found another way to express myself and another use for my mouth. I pressed into him again, letting my lips trail across his. My kiss was gentle and pleading. It expressed every word that was festering so uncomfortably inside my throat.
Could he feel the words I couldn't say? In silence, could he understand me clearly?
Although he hesitated at first—perhaps shocked or still confused—his arms eventually wrapped around me again. Unlike before, this kiss was a test. We were trying to find new limits and lines. Was loving him crossing a line? Or was it a boundary that I could flirt with?
Loving him? What was I saying? How could I love a man after everything that had happened? More importantly, how could he love me? I was broken. Damaged goods. Used too many times to be useful. He deserved something better than that. He deserved something better than me. Still, I clung to him and feared I would never let him go.
As I kissed him, feeling that love inside me grow, there were so many questions I wanted to ask him. Now that I was certain this feeling was love, I wanted to know everything I could about him. I wanted to know him better than I knew myself.
Who were you before the pain?
Don't you realize you're like me? Just as broken by the world.
Do you want me?
Do you love me?
Am I worth something to you?
Even if I could speak, would I say these things? Would I have the courage to? The girl I had been in the past would have stayed quiet, never taking charge of her own life. I was different now. That much was sure. Still, I didn't know the girl I was today.
Who was I?
Who was he?