Chapter 27- Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy
August 7, 2005
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It's summer in Forks and I have been kept busy. Right as school let out for vacation break, I obtained a part-time job down at Newton's Olympic Outfitters with the goal of saving up a little money for college. It's an easy position considering that I have absolutely no knowledge of outdoor merchandise. Whenever a customer comes in and asks a question that I can't answer, all I have to do is direct them to one of the Newtons.
Of course, not everyone was thrilled with the idea of me being around Mike so much by myself. Edward has this crazy notion that Mike is still hung up on me. That's ridiculous. Other than those first few days after I was hired, Mike usually keeps his distance. If I'm manning the cash register, he works at restocking the shelves. If I am sweeping the floors at the entrance, he organizes the stockroom in the back. And he's always asking about Edward - like where he is and if he plans on coming by the sporting goods store anytime soon. The only strange part about it all is that whenever Edward does show up, Mike usually barks a quick hello and says that he has to leave to make a special delivery.
When I'm not at work, a majority of my spare time is spent with Edward. We found that reading while cuddled together is a peaceful recreation whenever it rains. And I love going to his house and listening to him play his piano. There are also our weekly trips to Port Angeles so we can get away from small town life for a few hours. We've gone back to Seattle a few times too, but he has a bad habit of trying to spoil me whenever we go there. He seems to live under the delusion that the more he showers me in luxury, the more memorable the date will be. He has so much money to throw around that dining at some snooty restaurant where they charge you fifty bucks just for a salad that has radishes cut in the shape of miniature roses doesn't bother him. So whenever he tries to take us to a place like that, I make him drive us to a fast food place instead. And, as an additional punishment, I pay for our meal. It really hurts him when I do that.
While I don't mind staying busy and working, I admit that these past few days have been extra hard. There was a huge Dwyer family get-together in Wyoming and Mom wanted to introduce me to the members of the clan that couldn't make it to her wedding back in September. Since I hadn't seen her in months, I couldn't say no.
Phil's family is very nice - just like him. They're the type that plays a family board game battle just for the fun of it and scarfs down ambrosia salad as if it's mandatory to eat it at every family reunion. Their sprawling ranch, which has been in the family for five generations, could double as a TV Western backdrop. And they definitely need the space. Every available room in the main house was crammed with visiting relatives. Both of his paternal grandparents were there - plus his parents, two uncles, one aunt, five siblings, nine nieces and nephews, and so many cousins and their extended families that I lost count. Although, it was nice meeting them and I loved spending time with Mom after having been apart for so long, one feeling remained constant throughout my visit - I missed Edward.
So when my plane touched down at the tiny airport in Port Angeles yesterday, I was ecstatic to find that he was my ride back home. I flung myself at him and dreamed of an evening spent within his arms. However, I was less happy once we walked inside of my house to drop off my suitcase. Charlie reported that Mrs. Newton had called twice to see if I had returned from my trip. Turns out that the store's other part-time employee had quit on the spot and she was desperate for help. And to make matters worse, Mike and Mr. Newton were out of town on some camping trip and couldn't be contacted. I was the only person available. I very reluctantly slipped into my uniform and reported for duty instead of snuggling up to Edward as I had planned.
Today wasn't much better. My shift began early this Sunday morning and it wasn't until 4:30 in the afternoon that Mrs. Newton said that I could clock out. Before she can think up anything else that needs to be done, I scramble to the store's parking lot and truck it home to await Edward's arrival. Being away from him for five whole days was torture. Then, after not getting enough of my Edward fix yesterday, my lips are practically tingling from withdrawal. He and I have a lot of catching up to do.
As I drive closer the house, I spot his shiny silver car already parked at the curb. He is waiting for me. Evidently, he is just as impatient as I am to get this show on the road. My pulse races as I imagine the possibilities.
But my anticipative high takes a nose dive once I discover that Charlie is home, too. I had wrongly assumed he would be out fishing until dusk. My mouth puckers into a frown while I park the truck. Alone time has been postponed due to unforeseen circumstances.
I conceal my disappointment and step inside of the house. Charlie is laid back on his leather recliner and urging the guy currently at bat on TV to swing it out of the ballpark. By contrast, Edward sits on the nearby couch and looks about as happy as I do.
"Hey, Bells. You worked later than usual," my father notes once the baseball player strikes out.
I sluggishly pull off my ever-present raincoat and hang it on the rack. "I had to. It was just me and Mrs. Newton again today. She hasn't had the time to hire another worker yet." When I swivel back around, I try not to sound too depressed. "So... are you two enjoying yourselves?"
"Sure. It's a great game. Mariners vs White Sox." He directs a sly smile on Edward. "And we're crushing them," he stresses.
One brow of Edward's cocks up. "I wouldn't call a score of 1 to 0 during merely the first inning as 'crushing'. The game has barely begun. The White Sox have plenty of time to turn it around."
Charlie snorts and takes a sip from his can of beer. "Sure, kid. Whatever you say."
My eyes dart between the two of them. I see that Charlie managed to suck Edward into watching a game again. The love of baseball is one of the few things about Edward that I do not understand. He can watch any game and know exactly what's going on in around 2.6 seconds. Furthermore, it doesn't bore him to death like it does to me. On the other hand, Charlie and Edward are fervent supporters of the sport. They can sit there and spout detailed analyses of each team in the league, often utilizing baseball terms that only themselves and the Major Leagues care to keep alive. If it wouldn't raise a few red flags concerning his origins, Edward would probably lug his treasured black and white baseball card collection over for Charlie to idolize too.
But since Edward is a Chicagoan first and a Washingtonian second, his limited loyalties to the Seattle Mariners brings up conflict every so often - especially if it's a Chicago vs Seattle game. To combat the problem and stop my father from vaguely insulting my boyfriend, I am sometimes required to step in.
"How does pork chops sound tonight?" I put out there as a distraction.
Charlie's face immediately swings away from taunting Edward. "Yeah. That sounds good."
"It's going to take a while though."
He turns at the waist to set his beer can on the nearby coffee table. "That's fine. I'm in no hurry."
Readying myself to leave the room, I give Edward a subtle head jerk towards the kitchen. Hopefully, he will pick up on my signal.
He peeks at the man sitting on the recliner. When he sees that Charlie is staring keenly at the TV, he rises from the couch with a casual nimbleness that I can only dream about. "I'll help you," he offers.
"OK. Thanks," I agree straight-faced. Edward knows how to cook about as well as Charlie does - which means basically not at all. If my dad wasn't busy concentrating on the baseball player who keeps striking out, he would likely remember that.
Edward silently follows me into the back of the house. In the time it takes for the kitchen door to swing open and closed, he has me pressed against him and gasping for breath. My eyes snap shut to allow the blissful sensation of having his lips on mine soothe away all of the stress I have been under lately.
Edward and I don't normally behave this way when my dad is home. If Charlie were to walk in and find Edward all over me like this, it would likely traumatize each and every last one of us for the remainder of our lives. Dad and I would never be able to look the other in the eye again. But desperate times call for desperate measures. I need this. Badly. Edward and I have no choice but to break our self-imposed rule - at least for today.
Edward pulls back an inch and sucks in a breath. "Five days... Too long," he pants.
I whimper a little and grab his face, setting his mouth back in place where it belongs. Less talking, more kissing is my new motto. We can talk later.
"Bells?" Charlie calls from the living room. "You mind bringing another beer? I'm running low."
Our lips and hands simultaneously come to a standstill. It's easy to lose yourself in the moment when you have someone like Edward around. It's also easy to forget that the only things currently keeping your father from investigating what's going down in the kitchen are beer and baseball. And if he runs out of the former, or if the latter goes on a commercial break, our safety net is gone.
I unenthusiastically step away from Edward and gaze up into his eyes. I can see a trace of acceptance within them, as though he has already guessed what I am about to say.
My face contorts in pain. "After dinner?"
Limply smiling, he nods and pulls out a chair at the table. Now we must wait. Again. But once Charlie has a full belly, I am sure things will settle down around here. The man usually doesn't move from his recliner after dinner unless there's a fire threatening to burn down the house. That means Edward and I can pick right back up from where we left off. I'll just have to I keep my hormones in check until then.
Fifteen minutes later, the pork chops are seasoned and sizzling in a pan. I stand at the stove and flip them whenever necessary. Edward balked at my suggestion of returning to watch the game. He instead volunteered for potato peeling duty since mashed potatoes are on the menu. Using a paring knife, his fingers carefully strip way their skin. My bottom lip wedges under my canine as I watch. It's oddly riveting how he handles them. And tantalizing. I admit being jealous of the attention he devotes to this task is reaching to the heights of insanity. But, sadly, that potato he holds has had more physical contact with my boyfriend than I have lately. With that under consideration, I'd say that I have the right to be a little crazy.
The sound of Charlie moving around in the living room soon drifts to the kitchen. I don't pay it much mind at first, although I am somewhat curious when the front door opens and closes. Charlie abandoning a ballgame without dinner or a medical emergency being involved is a rare event.
Around a minute goes by before I hear him return. I continue about my business at the stove, assuming he had a quick errand to do - like retrieve his police radio from the car or yell at the neighbors' dog to stop peeing in our yard. His footsteps tromp through the house, sounding louder than usual.
"Yum. Looks like I got here just in time."
My body tenses up stiff as a board. That isn't Charlie. This voice is deeper, and with a touch of cockiness in its tone that my dad doesn't possess.
I twist away from the stove and my eyes stretch open to their limits. In the hallway that links the kitchen to the rest of the house stands a stranger. A giant stranger. This man is so tall that his head almost hits the ceiling. Along with a smirk, he wears a white sleeveless t-shirt and blue jean cut-off shorts.
The man throws his head back and brays a loud laugh. "Wow, Bella. I think that's the best reaction I've gotten so far. I wish I'd brought a camera," he snickers.
The area between my eyebrows puckers out. This guy obviously knows me even though I have never laid eyes on him before. I think I would remember running into a guy who sports biceps almost the size of my own head.
Still grinning, he squeezes his body through the doorway. He saunters closer to where I stand and positions himself a few paces away. "Let me guess. You don't recognize me? Do you?"
Almost on autopilot, my head rocks from side to side.
He cocks his head off kilter and folds his arms across his broad chest. "I've changed a little since the last time we saw each other, so I guess I'll forgive you. Remember First Beach? You and I had a nice chat by the bonfire?"
It takes a second or two for me to put the pieces together. Then I gasp loud enough to be heard throughout the house. "Jacob?"
His posture straightens, increasing his height further. "The one and only," he boasts.
My eyes frantically look him up and down, studying the changes that have occurred in only around four months time. This man looks nothing like the boy I met back in March. That Jacob had long hair, a young and friendly face, and arms not much more impressive in dimensions than my own. But this Jacob has a short haircut, a smug smile, and arms similar to an oak tree's trunk.
"B-b-but how? You're so much... And Jacob was so..." I trail off, unable to form an intelligent sentence.
Jacob shrugs a shoulder, like the fact that he miraculously grew at least twelve inches so quickly is no big whoop. "What can I say? I have great genes - it just took time for them to activate."
I take another body scan of him and frown slightly. I've heard that some people don't grow very much as kids and then shoot up in size once puberty strikes. But that occurs over many years - not just a few months time.
Tucking a clump of hair behind my ear, I try to recapture my composure. "Oh. Um. Well...congratulations on the growth spurt then. And - uh - nice seeing you again," I say lamely.
He snorts another laugh. "It's nice seeing you, too," he mimics.
As he stands there peering down at me, his smirk inexplicably fades into nothing. His face goes nearly expressionless. He moves in closer, leaving only a few inches to separate the two of us. In response, I back up until my spine hits the countertop. Dark eyes squint down, staring unblinking into mine. It feels faintly invasive, like he is trying to see into my soul but can't find a way in.
"W-w-what are you doing?" I stammer.
Almost as soon as it began, the creepy vibe surrounding him slackens off and is replaced with a light sigh. He backs away a couple of feet and purses his mouth.
"Did you feel anything just then? Like, an invisible tie binding us together or...?" he presses, rolling his hand encouragingly.
I blink at him several times before I speak. "No," I drag out. At the same time, I'm checking his wrists for signs of a hospital bracelet. I don't see any, but maybe he took them off once he escaped the facility that had been performing medical experiments on him. Mental instability is probably a side effect from sudden, unexplainable growth spurts.
Jacob's head nods listlessly a time or two. "Yeah. Me neither. I had to try, though. I was kinda hoping that you would be the one. But I guess I can't have everything..."
He pauses for a moment and stares until the gleam in his eyes return. Gradually, the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. "Unless," he emphasizes. Jacob meanders his way back into my personal space and gives a leering smile. "I'm thinking maybe we didn't give it enough time. You doing anything tonight? I can take you up to Lookout Point and we can try again. My car is roomy enough for-"
A low, grumbling growl permeates the kitchen, thankfully interrupting... whatever this is.
Jacob cranes his neck around until he discovers the figure sitting rigidly at the dinner table. Edward's unsmiling gaze is locked solely upon the giant man towering above me. He is currently squeezing the potato he had been peeling in a death grip and making me concerned that he plans on hurling it at Jacob's head.
"Oh. Didn't see you there, Edward," Jacob smirks, seemingly unaware of the tension building in the room. "Bella got you doing manual labor in exchange for dinner? I guess eating at a friend's house is the only option if you don't want to starve, huh? Hey, I don't blame you. There can't be much of a variety for folks like you down at Casa de Cullen. They're still on that all liquid diet, right?" he ends in a sarcastic snicker.
A fire continues to rage in Edward's eyes. I am getting a strong inkling that his restraint is wearing dangerously thin.
"Boyfriend," I blurt out.
Jacob's face snaps back. "What?"
"He isn't just a friend. He's - um - my boyfriend," I pointedly hint, hoping this will convince Jacob to back up and give me some breathing room.
Jacob's eyes dart back and forth between our faces, his black eyebrows furrowing. "Huh... I never expected that you guys would have made it for this long," he mumbles in faint surprise. Then, abandoning his musings, he shrugs and huffs out a laugh. "Oh well... it's great that you two beat the odds against you, I guess."
Edward's steely gaze remains nearly unchanged. "Thank you," he monotones.
A hand roughly the same size as a black bear's swoops in and lands on the skillet to my left. Despite the hot temperature of the stove, Jacob easily tears off a bite of pork chop and shoves it in. He chews for a moment, making a smacking noise that has me wishing he would do me a favor and eat with his mouth closed.
"Hmm. Pretty good, Bella. Needs more salt though," he concludes once it's gulped down.
When Jacob reaches for the skillet again, a rush of exasperation floods through my system. I didn't spend the last fifteen minutes standing by this stove just so Jacob can eat everything up and critique it afterwards.
The metal tongs I hold whacks against his knuckles. He doesn't yelp out in pain as I would have liked, but it does stop him before he can touch the pork chop again.
I glare up at him and speak through my teeth. "Quit stealing our food."
"What? I'm only seeing how it tastes," he complains.
"It's not finished cooking yet. Don't you see that it's still pink? Ever hear of parasitic worms? You're going to get sick."
Before I can react, his hand slips past me again and nabs another chunk from the pan. "Nah," he chomps. "I'm made from tougher stock than that. I eat like this all the time now. The rarer the meat, the better."
Edward rises from the dinner table and strolls over. Taking up a position on my other side, he crosses his arms and leans his lower back against the countertop, observing Jacob for a short time before he decides to speak. "That's very interesting to hear. By any chance, are you dining on fresh elk with Sam Uley much these days?"
"Sam?" I repeat, scrunching my forehead. Back in March, Jacob didn't have much love for Sam. He referred to Sam as a cult leader and said the guy was crazy. Looking back, I understand how it could seem that way.
Keeping his focus centered on Jacob, Edward gives a head nod. "Yes. If I were to hazard a guess, I would say that Jacob is running with Sam's pack now."
My head swings around and studies Jacob in a new light. I may have only met Sam and Paul that one time at La Push, but that was enough for me to remember them clear as day even months later. Jacob is freakishly tall like Sam, has bulging muscles like Sam, and kind of makes you want to slap that cocky arrogance off his face - just like Paul.
Yep. It checks out. Jacob Black is a wolf now.
Jacob's head jerks back as though Edward threw a punch. "Wait a minute. Are you saying... that Bella knows," he stresses.
Edward stares back with a poker face. "Of course. I told her everything. What with the way my life is liable to turn on a dime, she deserved to know the truth. So that is what I gave her. It would be unsafe for her otherwise."
"And she doesn't care that you live in a house full of leeches?" Jacob questions with both brows raised.
My lips press together - struggling to hold in my irritation - but it spews out anyway. "She thinks they are among the nicest, friendliest people you could ever come across." Then I scowl at Jacob dead in the eye. "And, unlike some people, at least they don't go barging inside of people's houses and eat their food without asking first."
Jacob's mouth gapes open. That lasts for approximately five seconds. By degrees, the shocked look dissipates and transforms into something else. A low and unexpected chuckle begins shaking his shoulders. Next comes a full-on belly laugh. It isn't long before he is bent over slightly at the waist and heaving.
"Ah, man! I can't believe this! The guy who lives with blood suckers finds the one girl on Earth who doesn't care and thinks they're delightful companions! Now I've heard it all!" he guffaws.
When his amused laughter eventually ebbs, Jacob knits his eyebrows together and directs his sights on Edward. "So, why didn't you let Sam or my dad know that you told her? Didn't your side agree to notify us whenever something important happens around here?"
Edward's eyes narrow just enough to hint at his annoyance. "Your side agreed to those terms as well. Yet no one bothered to inform the Cullens of a few intriguing things either - such as your remarkable transformation and subsequent induction into the wolf pack."
Jacob scrunches his face and glances down at the floor. "Good point."
His subdued demeanor doesn't last for long. As he studies Edward and I, his lips perk up into a smile again. "Well...this is good news, I guess. Two regular people know all the secrets of this town and haven't called the FBI or Dateline NBC yet... You know, I've barely spoken with anybody outside of my pack in weeks. And when I do, it sucks that I have to constantly watch what I say. With you guys, I can be myself. That's kinda awesome... We should hang out more."
This train of thought suddenly stops and changes track. Standing taller, an excited glint brightens Jacob's eyes. He leans in, like he has another secret he wants to share. "Hey... You guys wanna see something cool? I'm the fastest at switching to wolf form, but no one except my pack and my dad has ever seen it before. I'll show you!" he bellows, reaching to grab the hem of his t-shirt.
"No!" Edward shouts. His hands simultaneously entrap my waist and steer me behind him, partially blocking my view of Jacob.
"What's wrong?" I wonder, poking his shoulder blade to get his attention.
Edward blows out one, deep breath and turns his head just enough to see my face. "I am not comfortable with him flexing his shape-shifting capabilities in the presence of a lady. Not only is it dangerous to bystanders in the sense that he could accidentally harm you, there is also the real possibility that you would be subjected to see more than what you had originally bargained for." His top lip briefly curls up at Jacob. "The morphing from human to wolf is done without clothing," he reveals in a low growl.
My eyes bulge out from their sockets. If that's the price of seeing Jacob in giant wolf form, I think I'll pass.
For the first time since arriving here today, Jacob frowns. "I wasn't gonna do it right in front of you guys. My plan was to go behind a tree and come back here once I shifted."
"Oh, how considerate of you," Edward deadpans. "That would certainly make for interesting fodder come the next neighborhood watch meeting. Just think of the things Mrs. Bryson from next door would have new to report."
The front door slams shut in the living room. All three of us go silent. Having Charlie overhear our odd chitchat wouldn't be easy to explain away.
"Where are you boy?" yells a throaty voice.
"In the back," Jacob calls in return.
The sound of wheels faintly squeaking moves closer as the person continues to speak. "You were supposed to help Charlie bring in those damn beets Sue keeps nagging us to eat. Instead you run off before I can even get out of the car."
"It's just one basket full. I figured he could handle it on his own," answers Jacob.
Soon a wheelchair-bound man rolls into the kitchen. With his prominent cheekbones and dark eyes, his face looks instantly familiar. I haven't seen Billy Black in years, but somehow he looks almost the same as he did back when I was ten years old.
Billy spots the three of us standing near the stove. He stares, taking more time observing Edward than the rest.
"What are you doing here?" he questions sharply.
"I could very well ask you the same thing," Edward fires back in a heartbeat.
Jacob barks a laugh. "Cool it, Dad. They're seeing each other."
Billy's eyebrows rocket up to the top of his forehead. His wide eyes land on my face peeking out from over Edward's shoulder and remain there.
"May I speak with you alone?" he presses.
I maneuver around Edward and position myself at his side. "No thanks. Anything you want to say to me will have to be said around Edward, too."
In spite of the Cullens' new partnership with the Quileute tribe, Edward privately confided his belief that Billy still harbors deep suspicion of the "vegetarian" vampires of Forks. He spent decades hating them - it isn't likely that feeling will disappear overnight. And I guess since Edward has aligned with them, Billy doesn't feel comfortable around him either.
Billy gives a quick side glance at Edward. "Fine," he huffs, focusing back on me. "As the daughter of one of my closest friends, I view you both as family. Your safety is important to me. I need for you to understand that you are putting your life at great risk. Those... Cullens that boy chooses to hang around with are not what they may seem to be. They are a fraud. You cannot trust them completely."
"Dad," chimes in Jacob. "She already knows what they are. Crazy, huh?"
Billy's skin color fades a few shades. "What?"
Jacob steals another chunk of meat from the pan and chuckles as he eats it. "Edward already let the cat out of the bag. Or, maybe saying that he let the vampire out of the coffin is more appropriate."
Billy doesn't laugh or find the situation funny like his offspring. "Is this true, Bella?" he frowns.
My head moves up and down. "Yes."
"She knows about the pack too," Jacob announces breezily.
The right hand on the armrest of the wheelchair grips down harder. A wild look appears behind Billy's eyes, which he aims directly at Edward. "You broke the treaty! You had no right to reveal our secrets," he snarls.
Edward's neck muscles briefly tense. "I believe that you are mistaken there," he retorts evenly. "The treaty states that the vampires must not divulge the tribe's secrets. No where does it say that I cannot inform my significant other of the potentially dangerous wolf/human shape-shifters that could pop out at any moment."
"They aren't as dangerous as you make them sound. Each one of them has worked hard at building their self-control," argues Billy.
"Likewise for the Cullens - as you already know," Edward points out. "Yet not more than a minute ago you were hinting to Bella that they are not human and could be perceived as a threat. It appears that we are both guilty of the crime of informing her of the possible dangers lurking around Forks."
Jacob covers his mouth and snickers. "He's got you there, Dad."
All that garners out of Billy is a fierce glower at his son.
Jacob's mouth turns down at the corners. "Well, it's true. It's not like Sam and Jared didn't tell their girlfriends about everything too."
The front door abruptly creaks open in the living room. The kitchen confrontation slams to a halt. We each pretend that nothing is out of the ordinary and that we weren't just arguing over anyone's supernatural discriminations.
Charlie appears in the kitchen toting a large wicker laundry basket filled to the top with beets. Dropping it on the floor, he drags out a chair and flops down onto it. "They rolled out of the basket during the drive. They were scattered all over the trunk. Took forever to round 'em up," he breathes laboriously.
Billy shoots Jacob another dirty look, this time appearing more embarrassed than anything else. "Sorry about that. I should have thought to ask Jake to help you."
Charlie waves the suggestion off with his hand. "No, no. It's fine. He drove the free food here. The very least I could do was bring it inside." He pauses to stare at the basket. "And please tell Sue that I said thanks for the potatoes. We eat 'em a lot around here."
I hold in a exasperated sigh. "Those are beets, Dad. Not everything is a potato."
Charlie's mustache wilts into a frown. "Oh," he mumbles without enthusiasm. Since beets have a reputation of being a healthy food choice, he probably has avoided them his entire life. Unless the vegetable is fried or has gravy and cheese to cover its taste, he usually crinkles his nose up at it. But his prejudice won't stop me. I'll just bake a casserole sometime soon and sneak a few beets in there. He'll never know the difference.
To thank the Blacks for their gift, Charlie invites them to stay for dinner. I always make plenty, so I don't complain. However, the same can't be said of Jacob when he discovers what's on his plate. The pork chop he had been ripping bites from earlier rests there. All that's left is its bone, a strip of fat, and a nibble or two of its meat. I'm not giving him another one. That'll teach him that pilfering food around here is a bad idea.
The five of us sit around the table and make polite conversation. Everything is fine until Charlie mentions to me that Esme dropped off a batch of cookies for us this morning while I was at work. The tension in the room immediately returns. I watch Billy's face harden back to a scowl.
Edward remains unusually quiet after that. He listens in closely to the conversation around us, his eyes switching from Billy to Charlie every few seconds. It's as though he anticipates Billy will spill the secret that he lives with the Undead and will then be banned from stepping foot into this house.
My knee bumps against his leg, knocking his concentration free from his obsessive surveillance. He turns away from the mundane fishing story my dad is sharing and finds my faint smile. Edward should know by now that even if Charlie were to find out everything and throw a fit, nothing will change. That wouldn't stop me from seeing him. Releasing his pent-up breath, he gives a quick nod of the head and resumes eating.
Thankfully, Billy never says a word to Charlie that he shouldn't. Maybe it's because he understands that it isn't his place to interfere with my chosen way of life. Though it's more likely that he's worried that if he told Charlie about the existence of vampires in Forks, I would then be informing my dad of a few things too. Like, that a werewolf-wannabe just gnawed the marrow out of a pork chop bone while sitting at our dinner table. Either way, I'm glad things worked out for the best.
When dinner ends, I assume that the Blacks will say their goodbyes and leave. But since my luck is lousy as of late, Charlie asks if they want to watch the remainder of the baseball game "with us". A large part of me wants to curl into the fetal position and weep in the corner. Not only is my father unwittingly depriving me of my alone time with Edward tonight, he also expects me to sit here and watch grown men on TV try to whack at a little ball with a stick. What did I ever do to him that's so terrible to deserve this degree of punishment?
Billy parks his wheelchair by my dad's recliner and helps himself to the beer can stash on the coffee table. Meanwhile, Jacob hogs more than half of the couch due to his large size, forcing Edward and me to make do with the space that's left. Charlie fills them in on what happened earlier during the baseball game and makes it a point to add that Edward is a native of Chicago. Since the game is Mariners vs White Sox with a score of 2 to 1 so far, the three of them good-naturedly heckle Edward for his team preferences. Edward explains that while he enjoys watching the White Sox play, he is actually a die-hard Cubs fan at heart. Jacob laughs so hard that his face turns purple. The next five minutes is spent taunting Edward for supporting a baseball team that hasn't won a World Series game in almost one hundred years. Edward slips on a smile and reminds them that the Seattle Mariners have been around since the '70s and have yet to even make it past the playoffs. That shuts them up.
The White Sox end up winning the game, sending Charlie's spirits spiraling downwards. Billy and Jacob try to assure him that the Mariners will do better next time. They each speak in hushed tones, as if someone in their family just died. I really don't get the appeal of baseball.
When the Blacks decide that it's time to go home, Edward pulls me over to say goodnight too. I don't want him to go but I have to work in the morning. I wouldn't mind losing a couple of hours sleep if it means that I can finally snag some private time with him, though there's a problem with that. Charlie has to work tomorrow as well, and having Edward stay over any later tonight wouldn't make him a happy camper. He prefers to have the house free of visitors and boyfriends by around nine o'clock. Plus, if I leave the house with Edward, my dad will feel obligated to stay up until I walk through the door again. And I know that the man needs his sleep. Tomorrow could very well be the day that something important occurs within the Forks city limits. The police chief should be wide awake for that possibility - however slim of a chance it may be.
Edward stands by his car and rubs circles on my back. I make a promise to myself that I won't make a scene to express how upset I am. So, I stick to pitifully clinging to his overshirt like a baby spider monkey and pouting.
"I'm sorry about tonight," I breathe out sadly.
He gazes back with soft eyes. "There's nothing for you to be sorry about. It may not have been the evening we had been hoping for, but at least we were together."
"Yeah. I guess you're right," I agree. But another frown appears nonetheless. "I still hate it though. We barely had a moment to ourselves. What if the same thing happens tomorrow? And the night after that, too? We might forget how this kissing thing works."
That crooked smile emerges as he strokes my cheek with his thumb. "I wouldn't mind relearning it again."
My bottom lip slides under a tooth, biting down hard. It would be so easy to just yank his face down here and attack him with everything I have. Unfortunately, my dear Father is only twenty feet away. He chats with Billy through the passenger window while Jacob shoves the collapsed wheelchair into the back of their car.
I raise my eyes to Edward again. "I hate this," I repeat in a whine.
His smile vanishes. Gradually, his attention moves over to my dad and then back to me. "Bella, what time does Charlie go to bed?"
"Usually by ten if it's a work night."
"And how long does it take for him to fall asleep?" he wonders.
A shoulder raises up and down. "I don't know exactly. Quickly, I guess. I hear him snoring by 10:30 on most nights. Why?"
He flashes a grin again and moves it to my ear. "I can be back. At 10:30 on the dot. If that sounds agreeable to you."
I glance behind myself to ensure no one is around. "That sounds great - but what about Charlie? I'm bound to wake him up when I walk downstairs." My clumsiness inevitably kicks in at the worst possible times. Through a countless number of embarrassing experiences, I have learned to accept this fact.
He shakes his head and whispers. "That isn't part of the plan. I will be the one coming to you. As long as you behave as you normally would, he will never suspect. All you will be required to do is wait for me in your room."
"But how would that even work? It's not like you can just sneak inside of the house and waltz upstairs. Charlie will hear it. And he sleeps with a gun on the nightstand," I remind him.
"Do you want me to come back tonight?"
"Of course I want you to. But that doesn't mean that it's safe for you to do so."
"That settles it then. I will be here at 10:30 and find a way to you. Agreed?"
"I don't know, Edward," I hesitate, furrowing my brow. "What if something goes wrong? What if Charlie decides to stay up late? What if-"
Edward silences me with his lips, giving me a lot to mull over in a very short period of time. He pulls away much, much too soon.
I gasp for breath and stare into his eyes. "See you at 10:30."
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I tried not to arouse Charlie's suspicions. I did boring things to lessen his interest, like washing the dirty dishes and brushing my teeth. He never suspected a thing.
The only stumbling block of the night was my pajama problem. There was a cringe-worthy moment when I reached into a drawer and pulled out the t-shirt I usually sleep in. It's so old that the fabric has ripped in places and is stained in others. I couldn't imagine myself looking about as attractive as a city bus floor while around Edward. So I scoured through my clothes and came up with a peach tank top and pajama bottoms. It's not perfect, but it's better than the alternative.
After my nighttime rituals were complete, I went to my bedroom to wait. That's where I have been ever since. Charlie stuck his head into my room right before ten o'clock. I was prepared for this contingency. I sat with crossed legs on my bed and had a book on my lap to simulate reading. He wished me a quick goodnight and shut the door. After he left, I went back to what I had really been doing - which was compulsively watching the clock countdown to 10:30.
At 9:53, Charlie entered the bathroom.
At 9:57, he exited the bathroom and his bedroom door closed.
At 10:22, his lawnmower snore cranked up.
Charlie is out like a light. Part one of the plan is a success.
At 10:31, the leaves of the huge tree outside of my window begins shaking. It isn't rare for that to happen when it's raining and the wind picks up. But there is no rain tonight.
I go to investigate and pull back the lacy, sheer curtains. The overcast sky casts blackness upon the front yard, leaving only the nearby street lamp to illuminate the area. It gives just enough light for me to see that I should be furious.
Flinging open my window, my eyes narrow on the shadowy figure climbing the tree. "What are you doing?" I hiss as softly as possible. I may be mad right now, but speaking above a whisper isn't worth the risk of waking up Charlie.
Edward keeps one arm wrapped around the tree trunk and lowers himself down to sit on a thick limb. "What does it look like I'm doing?" he quips casually.
"Finding a creative way to break your neck!" It's at least a twenty foot drop.
"All there is for me to do is climb out on this limb as far as I can and reach for your windowsill. I can pull myself in."
The tree limb he refers to tapers in size as it nears my bedroom window. I wouldn't trust it to hold up a piñata.
"But that's dangerous!" I gasp.
He pauses to establish eye contact. "Have you no faith in me?"
"Sure I do. But have you ever considered that maybe you are putting too much of your 'faith' in a tree whose branches aren't much stronger than a matchstick?"
Edward's head cocks to the side slightly, deepening his gaze. "Do you want me with you tonight or not?"
"Yes."
"Then stop fretting over the details and let me handle this." He makes himself comfortable on the limb and lets go of the tree trunk. He takes the time to gauge with his eyes the distance which separates us and soon begins his trek in earnest. Strong arms grip the branch, dragging his lower half along the way. The further he leaves the safety of the tree trunk, the more the branch sways. And the more the branch sways, the more of my fingernail gets chomped off by my teeth.
A noise chirps right as Edward makes it a quarter of the way across. With his thighs squeezing the limb, he rummages for his cellphone. He pauses to check the screen, gives the device the stink eye, and stuffs it into his pants pocket. Then, without an explanation, he begins inching backwards towards the tree trunk again.
I have a sneaking suspicion concerning what just went down, but I have to ask regardless. "Who was that?"
Edward halts his progress and reluctantly meets my gaze. "Alice."
"And what did she say?"
The corner of his mouth tips down. "That the limb will break at the halfway point and that I would be spending the next two months in a leg cast."
I give a nod and allow him to continue climbing down. Alice's visions can be annoying sometimes when she sees something private and/or embarrassing. But tonight I am eternally grateful for her intrusive talent.
Edward makes quick work of reaching the bottom of the tree. With a few feet left to go, he relaxes his grip and lands on his feet like a gymnast. Two seconds barely pass by before his eyes start scanning the outside of the house. They soon focus on the front porch, rise to its overhang, and follow the house's trim to where it passes underneath my window three feet away. I am very afraid of what that may mean.
He takes exactly two steps towards the porch. Then his cellphone chimes another text message.
"Alice again?" I guess.
He extracts the phone and gives a nod.
"So what did she say this time?"
As he reads the message, his face falls. With his mouth now set in a hard line, he puts away the phone and makes a confession. "That if I even contemplate climbing on top of the porch roof, she will be informing Esme," he grumbles.
Though I'm not sure what Alice foresaw, I'm sure it didn't end well. That porch overhang isn't the most sturdy structure. If a squirrel who ate too many acorns lately were to hop up there, it would probably collapse under its weight. But I have to hand it to Alice - her threat was perfect. There is nothing worse to Edward than when Esme has a freak out over his well-being. If she caught him trying to Spider-Man his way up my house, he would never hear the end of it. I wish I had come up with the idea.
With his hands in his pockets, he glowers at the house. I keep my mouth shut and wait for his next bright idea. What's he going to do? Lasso a rope around the chimney and shimmy down the flue like Santa Claus?
It isn't long before he's staring at the front porch area again. His scowl transforms into a roguish grin, heightening my concerns. He strolls up to the front porch and climbs the steps, disappearing from my viewpoint. I bend my neck out of the window to check what he is up to now. I catch a glimpse of his hand sliding along the eave in one swift movement. Our house key appears between his fingers.
Oh no.
I try to keep my voice low despite my surging panic. "Edward, no! You can't just barge through the front door! Charlie will hear you!"
All he does in response is place a finger at his smirking lips. Then the door unlocks and he slips inside of the house.
As quietly as possible, I close the window and tiptoe my way to the bedroom door. I open it slowly and squint into the darkness. Edward is already at the bottom of the stairs and working his way up. He climbs slowly but stealthily - like a cat burglar - prompting me to wonder where he picked up this particular ability. Everything is OK until he reaches the top. The last stair creaks loud enough to wake the dead. My teeth gnash together in a grimace. He stands rooted in place, one foot poised midair. Both of our heads whip around to monitor Charlie's door.
Nothing happens.
Snores continue to leak out into the hallway. I clamp my eyes shut and say a silent thank you to all that beer Charlie drank tonight. It wasn't enough to make him drunk or hungover, but it was just the right amount to mimic the effects of a sleeping potion.
Edward puts his long legs to good use, crossing the space between himself and my bedroom in two giant steps. He gently closes the door behind him and spins around. There's a tiny scratch on the bridge of his nose and at least two dead leaves stuck to the top of his head.
"There. That wasn't too difficult, now was it?" he whispers.
I give him the side-eye. "You almost died. Twice."
He sweeps my hand into his and turns up the charm - and not to mention the heat in his eyes. "It was well worth the risk. I assure you," he purrs.
My irritation burns out from the onslaught. I allow him to tug me close and nuzzle my hair. "You scared me, you know," I complain within a mumble. "I thought you were going to loose your grip and fall out of that tree at any moment."
"Impossible. A large part of my childhood was spent climbing trees and giving Mother mild heart attacks in the process. I was the best in my neighborhood, and I still remember all of the tricks. If I wasn't so heavy now, I'm certain I would have made it to your window." His light chuckles fill my ear. "But I think I like this way better. Sneaking into the house right under the police chief's nose is simpler. And, much more amusing."
I snort a soft laugh. "Yeah. Right. You can say that now because he didn't catch you red-handed. But if he were to find out that you're in my bedroom unsupervised, Charlie would shoot first and ask questions later."
He skims his nose up and down my neck several passes. "I won't tell if you won't," he murmurs into the hollow of my throat.
Both eyes roll happily into the back of my head. My ability to speak is reduced to a moan. Hopefully, my dad won't hear that either. This is the first time Edward has been in my room without Charlie's knowledge and the door flung wide open. We can finally relax without my dad hovering nearby. This opens up some very intriguing scenarios.
While my exposed shoulders occupy Edward's attention, I lead him to sit on the edge of my bed. In an eye blink, he ensnares my waist, pulls me onto his lap, and sucks in my bottom lip. He proceeds to drag out a lingering kiss, putting me through exquisite torture. I can't believe I survived five days away from that mouth.
I become lost in the moment. All of my anxiety and worries are set free. There is no one awake to bust in and interrupt. It's only him and me right now. I hear nothing but his soft groans and heavy breaths. I see and feel nothing but his lips teasing mine. We can finally enjoy our time together in a way that I have only ever dreamed about before.
Our mouths stay connected while I shove down the button-up overshirt from his shoulders. I toss it to the side and fondle his v-neck t-shirt. Ordinarily, I love this style of clothing on him. It's casual and attractive, yet it's tight enough in just the right places to give my eyes something nice to stare at obsessively. But my lust-filled brain whispers that things would be much more interesting around here if I were to get rid of the thing. I don't argue with the logic. My brain knows what it's talking about this time.
My hands head straight to the bottom hem of his t-shirt and slowly peels it up. I've only yanked it up a few inches when he backs away from our kiss. I prepare to protest until I realize that he is only stopping to whip the t-shirt off from over his head. He throws it without a care across the room and it falls to the floor.
Now, Edward and I have seen and done a lot in the few months we have known one other. And I have gotten to know him well. But in all that time, I never knew that he had perfection hidden underneath his t-shirt. I feel so stupid. Why didn't I persuade him to take this off sooner? This discovery should have been made ages ago.
Catapulting myself at him, I knock him into a horizontal position on the bed, leaving our legs to dangle partially off the side. I land on top and quickly recapture his lips. Before I can get lost in the moment again, I give my fingers full permission to go have fun exploring this new, uncovered territory. They find smooth skin over lean, hard muscle. They travel over a narrow waist and circle around his navel. And through experimentation, they figure out that scraping my fingernails lightly over his abdomen produces a sound within him that's easier on the ear than any song I have ever heard.
Everything about him feeds my craving, but it also leaves me hungry for more. Much more. He and I have been affectionate plenty of times. In some areas, we are practically experts. Yet, to be honest, we haven't done too much that would overly upset any parental figure. Without even needing to discuss it first, we have taken things very slow. Early on when our relationship was new, I appreciated Edward for not pushing me to do anything too advanced. Though, almost five months later, I'm thinking it's time to step things up.
Edward has never taken it upon himself to see if I am ready for more. He continues to do variations of the things we have always done. So far he has rounded first base, made a brief appearance at second base once or twice, but has never even tried sliding anywhere near the home plate. The very fact that I am willing to use baseball terminology in reference to our lack of intimacy proves two points. Number one: that I watched way too much of that ballgame tonight. And two: I am ready for more. I love him. He loves me. So, why not? All I need to do is let him know.
His midsection currently is trapped underneath my straddled legs, however that doesn't stop him from taking the lead. His lips wander away from mine and onto a spot located behind my ear. As they ghost over my skin, my eyelids flutter closed. It feels incredibly good. If I had been standing on my own two feet, I probably would have passed out.
I stifle a moan and run my fingers through his perfect, messy hair. "Edward?"
"Hmm?" he grunts, his lips never leaving my flesh.
"I'm ready. F-for more," I explain as steadily as I can. It's hard to speak when his mouth is on me and doing stuff. My natural instincts are to groan and/or squeal.
His head collapses back to the bed and meets my stare. "What?" he pants, his chest heaving.
From my position on top, one finger glides over his pecs and traces around a nipple. There's a little shyness trying to creep back in, but I am determined to get this out. It's important.
"I want more. With you. I'm ready."
His eyes move back and forth, scanning over my face. My confession hangs in the air between us. Bronze eyebrows slowly lift with surprise. "Really? Are you sure? I assumed that you weren't ready for something of this magnitude yet."
"I've had time to get used to the idea, so it doesn't seem as intimidating as it once did. Plus, I love you. And this is the best way for me to show you just how much. So what's the sense in waiting any longer?"
He rises up and leans back on his elbows. "Well...I admit this does sound rather tempting. I've thought about it many times myself. And I am very glad to hear that the idea doesn't scare you off anymore. But, I think that you may be overlooking a crucial detail. While you and I may be ready, I seriously doubt everyone else will feel the same way. Your father, for one, wouldn't be happy. Nor your mother, I would imagine. They would likely say that we are not ready to take this step."
My nose crinkles up, scrunching my face together. Did he hit his head while he was climbing around in that tree?
"Edward, why would you even think that I would tell anyone about this? Especially my dad!" I emphasize in a harsh whisper. "This is our private decision. And it's no one's business but mine and yours what we do behind closed doors."
The confidence in his eyes fades. He stares and stares, not uttering a sound. Next his forehead slumps down until it wrinkles his brow ridge. As the silent seconds pile up, I begin wondering if the prospect of imminent sex has rendered him dumb.
Gradually, the squinting, strained look on his face clears. He heaves a broken sigh.
"I am coming to suspect that we are referring to two very different things," he murmurs. Green eyes meet mine again, a trace of somberness haunting them. "Bella, I thought that-... I always thought you knew of my intentions concerning...this particular subject - especially considering how I was raised. And I... Well..." He pauses and wags his finger back and forth, from me to himself a couple of times. "I assumed that we would go about doing this in - ah - a more traditional manner," he hints.
I follow his finger and briefly look down at our current positions. I'm still lying on top of his body, practically pinning him to the bed. He probably thinks he's dating an aspiring dominatrix. This flash of insight has me slightly embarrassed.
"Oh. You think it's better if you're on top this time?" I ask, nibbling my lip.
Edward's eyes clamp shut and squeeze themselves together. Without looking, he lifts me off of himself and places me by his side. He moves up into a sitting position and reestablishes eye contact. "No. That's not what I was referring to," he answers. He swallows hard before continuing. "I thought you were fine with us...waiting."
I blink at him several times as I allow the information to sink in. But I still don't get it. I thought once I told him that I was ready for sex, he wouldn't be able to hold himself back.
"Why? What's there to wait for, Edward? It's not like we're underage. We're practically adults now. You're eighteen, and I'll be too next month. No one can say anything."
He shakes his head a few times. "That isn't the problem. The reason I believed that we would wait is because we are not yet married."
My entire body goes into high alert. That last thing he said gets stuck on a loop inside of my mind. It's the one word that Mom trained me to be cautious about.
Edward goes on talking while I suffer from acute anxiety. "When you said that you were ready for more, I took that to mean you were ready for more in the traditional sense. At least it's traditional to my way of thinking. I'm sorry."
My finger winds nervously around a lock of hair until it's numb. "So...when you said that we should wait, you meant wait-wait? As in, the honeymoon kind of waiting? Right?"
Edward's head gradually moves up and down. "Yes. I suppose it was foolish of me to make such an assumption regarding your beliefs considering that you are from a more modern era than mine. Sometimes I forget that you may view things differently."
I wet my lips and try not to freak out. It was an honest mistake on his part. If I had been blunt and said something like, "Hey, you ready for sex now?" he wouldn't have been nearly as confused about what I wanted.
"It's OK, Edward. This was my fault too. I should have brought this up to you a long time ago. Instead I kept quiet just because I was nervous." I crack a tiny smile and take his hand. "I forget about where you come from sometimes, too. You've infiltrated this time period so well that it's easy to overlook the fact that you're still getting used to how things work around here."
He squeezes my hand back. "Thank you. I'll take that as a compliment."
"You should. To go from a time when women couldn't vote to a time when we're wearing the pants too - I'm sure it took some getting used to."
He unleashes his lopsided grin and places his other hand upon my knee. "It did. But I don't mind the change. You are ravishing in pants."
I giggle softly and burrow my face at his neck. His arms weave around me to bring us closer. The awkwardness is gone. I begin planting kisses at his Adam's apple and keep going upwards. Edward's hands slide up and down the contours of my body, igniting a flame within me. That familiar wanting from earlier is back - but stronger now than ever before.
My teeth nip and pull at his earlobe, drawing out some wonderful sounds from between his lips. While I am doing this, I share more of my thoughts. "It's understandable that you would have thought that we would have to wait. Society didn't condone premarital sex back then, did they?"
I bite down on his earlobe and he agrees in a vague grunt.
Quickly licking around the shell of his ear, I continue. "It's strange how that mindset has changed over the years, though. Now some people do it with partners they barely know and think nothing of it. It's none of my business what they do, but I don't think I could have ever do something like that. I think it's best to do it with someone you love and care for." I stop to graze my lips across his jaw. Although he shaves religiously, I can feel the beginnings of stubble coming in. My mouth travels over his skin until it hovers an inch away from his lips. "I'm glad I waited for you," I add.
His eyelids lower, smoldering their gaze. "As am I. I had so much competition when you first moved here that I wasn't sure if I would be the one you chose in the end."
My face leans to the side, casting a skeptical eye. "I stared at you on the sly constantly, like a stalker, and pretended that I forgot how to conjugate verbs in Spanish just so you would spend more time with me after school. You know good and well that you never had any 'competition'."
His eyes gleam like a cat's in the unlit room. "Hmm. That is some very interesting information, Miss Swan. You see... I behaved in the very same way. The only difference between the two of us is whenever I stared at you, nearly everyone in the vicinity was aware of it except for you. I didn't hide it nearly as well."
He kisses the smile from my face and makes my head spin. I'm not sure how long it takes for me to resurface from the mental haze he has induced, but I do remember that I need to get one more thing out there before we go any further.
I back my mouth away just enough to talk without the need for kissing him to distract me from what is important. "I know this may be a new concept for you. But really, it is for me too. So we'll just take our time to adjust and figure things out together. We can go slow. We don't have to do everything tonight."
Edward's eyes grow huge for a split second. Gone is the sultry look within them. He backs away a half of a foot and drags a hand down his face.
"We can't," he says in a pained whimper.
"Sure we can. We have all night. I can call in sick to work in the morning. I'm sure Mike and Mr. Newton are back home by now and can help out at the sporting goods store."
His face winces like he slammed his toe into something. "Bella. I am not deflowering you while your father sleeps directly down the hall."
I roll my eyes to the ceiling. "Oh my god. Deflower? Really? Who uses that term anymore?"
Green eyes narrow on me. "I do. It's better than the crass alternatives I have overheard in the locker room," he grumbles. "But getting back to my point, I don't believe that you quite understand how things are from my perspective. I was taught early on that there are certain things that one can and cannot do. And having s-s-" He abruptly halts in his speech and inhales a breath. "Making love without the benefit of marriage was the ultimate of taboos. No respectable man would do such a thing to the woman he loved."
"Yeah. I know that's how it used to be. But times have changed and so have you. And you promised me that you would try new things."
"This isn't the same as you getting me to try sushi, Bella," he deadpans. "This is about something much more important. Yes, I live in a new century. But that does not mean that I should abandon all of my principles from the previous one and give in to every temptation that crosses my path. I have to draw a line somewhere."
My eyes blink several times in succession. A pang of realization from what he is saying threatens to crush my self-esteem. "So... you don't want me yet?"
One of his hands grasps a clump of bronze hair and pulls, his face contorted out of shape. "You have no idea," he groans.
"What?"
His fingers loosen their grip from his hair and fall at his side. A long, drawn-out sigh expells as he gazes with piercing eyes. "Bella, I have taken enough cold showers since I met you to supply the glacial water needs of a polar bear exhibit. So, yes. I want you. Very much. But I have something called self-control to keep that urge in check."
A warm hand cups my cheek while his voice goes velvety soft. "I want to do things the proper way - in the way my mother would have wanted. My family may be dead and buried, but I am certain that they would want me to be on my best behavior - especially when it comes to the woman I plan to wed. Making a mess of things before that day isn't an option for me. So, in the long run, I don't mind the hardship. It will be well worth it one day. And I will wait however long it takes until you are ready for that step."
He leans forward to rest his forehead against mine. "Well, I suppose I better get going. It's late and I'm keeping you up. And, unfortunately, I have an appointment with an ice cold shower before I go to bed." He places a soft kiss on my lips and backs away. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
With wide eyes, my head nods up and down.
He rises from the bed, locates his t-shirt, and pulls it back over his head. Light on his feet, he then walks to the door and pauses. A warm smile is cast in my direction. "Goodnight, love. Sleep well," he breathes out. Then he's sneaking out of the door and gone - all while I remain too stunned to speak.
My head falls to the bed and I stare at the ceiling. I thought I knew everything about dating a boy who had been plucked from 1918 and deposited in this timeframe. But I was wrong. I neglected to consider that his moral compass is much stronger than his hormones. Or mine. I remember the way his hands caressed my skin and firmly gripped my hips. I can still smell the lingering scent of his cologne in the air. My lips ache for him to return and finish what he started when he prowled up here tonight.
I have to face facts. This virtuous Edward Masen is going to kill me.
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A/N- The world has gone insane. I don't know about you, but I can't wait for 2021. 2020 is defective.
Next Chapter- Another fluffy chapter because I need this right now. A trip to someplace warm and sunny since we're stuck inside.
Thanks for reading! :-)