A/N: Happy Easter, everyone! I decided to gift you lovely readers an early update since I can't give you guys' plastic eggs full of jelly beans. XD
In this chapter Bella may not seem very canon with having trouble choosing an outfit that's girly enough. Which is perfectly okay.
Though this is a mostly a canon fic with canon couples and personalities, for the most part. Some things are not totally canon because I changed them. Like Bella being close to her dad and Charlie being a super dad. Or Edward being clueless about sex and being scared about not knowing what to do, instead of being afraid of hurting her, like he is in the Saga. Which is how I want it. :)
If Edward and Bella do anything sexual in this fic, she won't end up hurt and he won't be a moody, broody mess. Because I'm writing them my way. ;)
Now let's see what Bella is doing before her date.
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Bella's POV
With a Band-Aid on my big toe and an armful of clothes clutched to my chest, I hop from my dresser over to my bed. With my toe throbbing, I plot the clothes on my bed and sigh.
I'm trying to find something nice to wear.
Feeling stressed and excited, I neatly arrange the heap of clothes into three outfits on my bed. Two jean and t-shirt ensembles, and the third outfit is a dark blue jean skirt with a red plaid button down blouse. All three ensembles are very pretty and I'm not sure which one to pick.
Taking a step back and ignoring the pain in my toe when I put pressure on it - I hurt it in the kitchen when I got home from school - I eye all three outfits. I still don't know which one I should wear.
Usually choosing what to wear isn't difficult. Clothes have never been a big deal to me, I just put on what is comfortable and that's it. But it is a big deal to me right now.
Everything feels like a huge deal right now and it's weird.
I'm freaking out about everything. From clothes to shoes that match my possible outfit, to how I should do my hair. If I should put it in a ponytail, bun, or leave it down. I'm just not sure about anything right now and I hate it.
"Ugh!" I groan out loud. No one told me having a boyfriend would be this hard.
Who knew I would feel so pressured and want to look really nice? But at the same time, I have no idea what to choose to wear for my first date with Edward. I really want to look and feel beautiful for this occasion. But I also feel silly for feeling that way, it's strange.
Looking at the clothes I have laid on my bed and not knowing which one to pick, an overwhelming feeling of not being girly enough, and having plain clothes comes crashing down on me. I have no mom who I can turn to for fashion advice or help me with my hair.
Suddenly I find myself wanting to cry.
Everything I feel makes no sense to me. I'm I going crazy? It sure feels that way. After all, it was just last night that Edward spent the night, and everything seemed so easy. I stayed up till 3 Am talking to him and woke up this morning with a bad case of bedhead with him beside me, smiling at me. Everything felt right. So why am I freaking out about what to wear now?
I just don't know.
"This is impossible." I sigh, feeling like I want to cry I sink to my floor.
Sitting cross legged beside my bed tears welled up in my eyes. I put my head in my hands and began to cry. Before this moment looking nice never mattered to me. I've always worn comfortable clothes but now that doesn't seem good enough. I want to look nice and girly. Two things that have never mattered to me.
This is definitely strange.
"Knock, knock." Dad says as he knocks on my open door. "Are you almost ready to leave?"
"I'll never be ready." Sniffling, I drop my hands in my lap and look at him.
"Bells, what's wrong?" He wonders, walking into my room.
"I'm not girly. All my clothes scream tomboy." I cry.
"What?" He looks so confused.
"I can't decide on an outfit that makes me look pretty for Edward." I explain so he doesn't think I lost my mind.
The words I spoke feel weird and leave me with a strange cold chill running down my spine. Wanting to hide I bring my hands up and cover my face again. I cry some more. This is horrible.
"Honey, no matter what you choose to wear you'll look pretty." Dad sits next to me, putting his arm around me.
He holds me safe and warm. I put my head on his shoulder and suddenly everything doesn't seem as bad.
"You have to say that you're my dad." I point out, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.
"I don't have to say it. I'm telling you the truth," He says. "And if Edward doesn't see that he's an idiot."
"That's a terrible thing to say." I don't try to hide my annoyance. "Dad, that's not what I meant at all. He thinks I'm beautiful, he told me so."
"Okay." He says slowly. "Then what's the problem?"
I want to roll my eyes. Of course, he doesn't understand this. Why would he? His idea of dressing up is wearing Wrangler jeans, a clean shirt with a pair of sneakers. He's a guy and doesn't understand wanting to feel pretty. How am I supposed to spell it out for him?
"I really don't know what the problem is." I admit, looking at him now. "I've always been content wearing comfortable clothes and now I don't feel jeans and a simple t-shirt will do. I'm having trouble picking out something nice to wear. I don't know what to do."
"Oh."
The look on his face is understanding and compassionate. Even though he only said one word that could be mistaken as a breath of air, I feel a bit better.
I don't take offense to his one-word reply. He's not one who usually has the gift of gab, it's actually a surprise when he's very talkative. Come to think of it, I'm like that too so I understand his lack of words aren't because he doesn't care, but because he's not sure what to say.
My out of character fit goes on with more passionate tears, and words that express how much wanting to look good means to me as dad holds me. He listens, adding comforting words when needed.
"You know what you need?" Dad asks, as my rant comes to an end.
"A brain transplant since I'm not acting like myself?" My words are a failed attempt at a sarcastic joke. Though I'm kind of serious.
"No." He chuckles.
"Are you sure?" I ask. "I mean, have you met me before? I'm not a girl that cares about this superficial stuff. Like clothes, shoes, and styling my hair, those things have never mattered to me."
With a smile, he sighs. "Seeing how passionate you are about your wardrobe tells me —"
"That I lost my mind." I interrupt him.
"No, Bella," He chuckles. "It shows how much you're growing up, becoming a young lady. There's nothing wrong with wanting to look good for someone you really like."
His words are kind and meaningful. They also give me more of an insight to my odd behavior.
"That makes sense, I guess." I say, feeling a little better.
"Now, you know what you need?" He asks again in a light tone.
"Not really." I shake my head no.
With a gentle pat on my back, he untangles from our hug and stands up. I watch curiously as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small black object.
"A cell phone," He says, casually. "I made a stop on my lunch break and bought it for you so we'll have a way to reach each other. Just in case." He stretches out his hand to give me the phone.
Shocked and surprised that he actually bought me my own phone, my mouth falls open. I stare at him but don't grab it. I'm too stunned to do anything.
"Take it, it's yours." He keeps his hand outstretched, gesturing for me to take the phone.
"Thank you!" I say a little too fast and loud.
I finally reach out and take the phone. Before I have time to admire it or even open it up, I'm on my feet rushing to dad to give him a thank you hug.
The small space between us proves to be a dangerous distance for me. In a less than graceful move I stumble and stub my little toe on his shoe. It hurts so bad as I hug him, but I don't want to cry out in pain, I don't want him to worry or go get the First Aid kit. So, I stay quiet, but in my mind, I'm cursing in seventeen different languages. Some of the words might even have aliens blushing since most of the languages are made up.
For a long minute which feels like an eternity, my toe hurts like hell. But I grin and bear it as I distract Dad by asking him about my new phone. Just so he won't question why I might look like I'm in pain. Or worse, suggest I might need to stay home since that's twice in one day I injured my foot. I don't want that.
Checking out my phone as Dad explains he already programmed his cell, work, and our home phone in the contacts. I fake my enthusiasm at that while secretly anticipating texting Edward, just as soon as he replaces his phone. It's a shame it got waterlogged in the rain or I would text him immediately.
"Thanks for the phone." I say, my tone is full of appreciation while my eyes dart back to my bed. Right to where my original crisis awaits me.
"You're welcome, Bells." He says happily. "Now get ready. We have a long drive ahead of us and I don't want to get stuck in traffic, so we better leave soon."
He turns to leave my room but before he does, I grab his arm. He stops and looks back at me.
"Can you please help me decide on what to wear?" I ask before he can say a word.
"Umm…" He looks very doubtful.
"Please, Daddy?" I beg, letting go of his arm.
He doesn't say anything, but I see his resolve crumble at what I chose to call him. At once he caves and takes a seat at my desk, asking to see the outfits I chose. I quickly show him the two pants outfits and move on to the one I think I should wear.
"I think I'm liking this skirt the best. But I'm not sure about this blouse though. What do you think?" I ask, wanting his honest opinion.
Dad is quiet, thinking about something else, I guess.
With his silence an idea pops into my mind. Still holding my skirt and blouse, I rush over to my messy closet and open it. I quickly pull out my purple dress.
Even though I don't wear dresses often, I have a few. I wear them on special occasions. Usually when Dad has an event for the station, then we have to dress up.
"How about a dress or a skirt?" I hold both up. "Which one would be better for a date?"
Dad begins shaking his head no. I look at him wondering why.
"Absolutely not. No dresses, skirts, or button-up blouses." He speaks.
His words are firm, and he looks very concerned. Why? What am I missing?
"Why not a dress or a blouse with a skirt?" I want to know.
"There's too much that could go wrong in those outfits." He says, sounding uncomfortable. "You're too young. Stick to pants with a belt, long sleeve shirt, maybe a turtleneck, and a very thick jacket."
"What?"
"The weather's getting colder. You need to bundle up." He rubs his hand on the back of his neck. Beads of sweat drip from his forehead as his face turns red.
"But it's not even winter." I point out. "We're still in September."
"Covering up will keep you safe." He sounds embarrassed as he stands up, walking over to me.
I blink, feeling so confused. How on earth would dressing like an Eskimo keep me safe? Safe from what? I'm really not sure.
"How about overalls with a belt?" Dad asks, taking my dress, skirt, and blouse from me. "Overalls and a long sleeve shirt would be great."
"Why?" I wonder.
"Overalls are sporty and perfect for being alone with a boy." His words are fast as he hangs my clothes up. With a shaky hand he grabs the clothes he thinks are best.
At once everything clicks. The reason why he doesn't want me to wear dresses or skirts is obvious now. Because those are easy to take off and he's worried about that. I inwardly cringe at that.
Oh gosh!
Why didn't I see it before? I really hope he doesn't plan on having a sex talk with me tonight. That would be mortifying.
"Good outfit, don't you think?" He asks happily, holding up my blue jean overalls, a black belt, and burgundy long sleeve shirt with a butterfly on the front.
He seems very pleased with what he chose for me to wear. He also seems to want me to say something.
"It's great, Dad." I lie, taking the clothes from him. "I'll go change. Thanks for helping me."
"You're welcome. I'm happy to help out any time." He grins. "Don't forget the belt."
"Sure." I say, slowly taking it from him.
"Go get dressed, I'll pick out a jacket for you." He turns back to my closet.
"Dad, I really don't need a jacket." I roll my eyes, spinning around.
He mumbles something as he rummages through my closet, searching for the perfect winter coat. But I don't hear what he has to say. I'm not paying attention.
With the clothes in my hands, I head to the bathroom to get ready. Obviously, this is not what I would have chosen to wear, far from it. But if it gets me out of having 'the talk' with my dad, I'll wear it.
Shutting and locking the bathroom door, I begin to think about Edward. I can't wait to see him.
Changing my shirt, I begin to wonder what he's doing now, if he's having pre-date jitters too. Or wearing something he doesn't want to wear too.
Probably not.
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Thanks for reading. :))
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