Chapter 14 - That blade
The next morning she unpacks her chair. The camp is silent. There's no activity. But then she hears water, a slight splash. She leans to the side. Oh, there he is, behind the tent.
She swallows thickly and delves her nose into her book.
It's like she unpacked to watch a show. It just looks wrong. She rolls her eyes at herself. She quickly stands and does … something—unpacks and packs up the used Tupperware. The bowls were cleaned out. She swaps them with the new ones. Yeah. She'll do that.
She doesn't know where he's found a polo shirt, an Armani belt, and jeans to go together. Probably the summer houses around here? Either way, he's not wearing the shirt yet.
Bella turns in circles when she sees him coming. She hop-skips to her chair, slides in and up goes the book.
He stops to look her way. His back heaves with a sigh, fists grip and tighten. He walks past, and for someone who eats the way he does, he's quite fit. Thin, but the type that looks like he's been through a winter storm and survived. Quite literally. Maybe it's the hiking, maybe the times he's gone running like hell after he steals. Who the hell knows. His abs ripple just enough to show he withholds yelling every time she's around.
He flicks a towel from around his neck and sits on a crate. The blade he pulls out of … somewhere is bulky but short. He tests the sharpness with a thumb. For a little while, he sharpens the blade with a rock he probably keeps just for that.
She watches.
His pecs tense with each pass, and so do his forearms.
Bella thinks Jameson sure doesn't have impressive features like that. She almost scoffs at herself loudly. But all she does is clear her throat enough to get the silence from drowning her.
He lifts that blade, and all internal dialogue ceases. Bella sees him aligning it to his neck. She sucks in a breath. Just when he takes a good grip of his beard, he looks at her for just this instant. He flicks his wrist.
Bella's taken aback.
She doesn't know what to think, let alone feel. Soon enough, her book is forgotten on her lap, and she watches as this stranger threatens her. This is what he would do to her. Slice her right up. It would be so easy. She's defenseless. She's a nosy child who walked into this defiantly. If she had done this out there, a cop would take her away. So what gives her the right here?
He looks away to catch his reflection from a pot. He takes hold of more beard and slices off the longer pieces. He moves to his hair; by his ears, the back—unceremoniously and roughly. When he's done, he takes a razor to his jaw while Bella sits back to watch ... transfixed. Layers and layers peel away to show more of who he is.
"That's unfortunate," Bella whispers to herself with a huff. She turns the page; it's the same one for the last half hour. She was quite partial to the beard. It made him look … ancient, barbaric. She likes the latter.
Mosquitoes buzz and sting. She slaps at her neck and flicks at her ears. She sighs where she sits, wondering how the hell he survives like this.
Edward sees her frustration and discomfort. He simply pulls out a can of repellent and sprays around himself like he just remembered.
Bella scoffs. So that's how.
The solution was always simple. No elaborate plan. She'd laugh if this wasn't so ridiculous and he'd shared some with her.
He's up and pulling on the dark polo like he's going shopping at the mall. It's true, just not actually in one. Five-finger discounts.
Bella blinks. He looks … he looks different. She doesn't know he does this to seem regular when he's … shopping. No one looks twice at a clean-shaven, well-dressed man walking around the premises.
"Leave," he says without looking her way. He has things to do, he has to work, and the summer is young and new. She stares. He tucks in his shirt and runs a hand through his damp hair.
"What's your name? Both names, including middle," she requests instead of leaving.
He sighs loudly. He runs a hand over his freshly shaven face. He's younger now.
She gets up, and she packs.
"I'll see you tomorrow then." She leaves him with that.
It takes a long moment. With each step, her heart sinks. She'll lose him. She doesn't have plan B.
The moment she feels him near, she slows. She breathes. He always takes the lead, and she lets him. Neurotic. But really, there are rules to his kingdom.
"There's a Cullen, an Edward, and an Anthony." He says this in the middle of a trail that leads home; hers. He doesn't know it leads to his also.
She smiles when he's not looking.
It worked.
Now for next week, she'll ask a question a day and see how that goes.
…..