Chapter 28 - Two Tickets To Paradise
April 2, 2006
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"You know, Edward, I have two functioning hands. You don't have to lug around our stuff all by yourself," I grumble.
Edward keeps strolling along through the Seattle airport while toting a carry-on bag in each hand. "You handled booking the flight and choosing the seating arrangements. Allow me to at least handle this, please."
I huff a sigh but drop the subject. After dating him over a year now, I have learned that arguing about this subject will do him no good. Edward may listen to modern bands like Muse and eat pizza with his hands like the rest of us, but he continues to cling to the same time-honored traditions he was taught during the early twentieth century. I'm pretty confident that he believes that if I have to lift anything over five pounds while in his presence, he will then fail in his job of being a man.
He probably wouldn't be pleased if he knew that I had to push a box of merchandise all by myself last week at the sporting goods store when our pushcart broke. And he would definitely flip out if he knew that Mike had been there too and did nothing but pig out on a can of Pringles instead of helping me. I wasn't thrilled about the situation either, but I gave Mike a pass since he had a bad day. To summarize the situation, Mike and Jessica have a relationship pattern that tends to run a rocky course. They date, appear to be happy for a little while, and then all hell breaks loose. On that particular day, the two of them argued in the school cafeteria for everyone to see and broke up for the fifth time so far this year. Understandably, Mike was feeling a little down in the dumps. Everything is OK now. As of yesterday, they are back together and reportedly proclaiming their love again. There's no telling how long this will last, so the students and faculty at Forks High always try to enjoy the peace while it lasts.
Other than the stress of the Mike and Jessica drama, my last year in high school has been a nice one. Graduation is only two months away. Edward and I spent the fall and winter trying to find a way into college. Although I'm not exactly sure what I want to do for a living, I at least have a general idea where my interests lay. My expectations concerning college were simple. As long as the place had a decent English Literature department, I figured I could make do with wherever I ended up. I aimed my sights low in the beginning, assuming that I would be limited in my choices due to the high expense. Edward scoffed at my attitude and encouraged me to go for something bigger even though I knew that I would never be able to afford it. I applied to several "big name" universities just to placate him. One place caught my eye more than any other. It described an English Lit department where the faculty honors the past while also studying present styles of writing. It sounded right up my alley. Still, the astronomical cost and the fact it's across the country kept me from getting my hopes up.
Edward's idea of the perfect college had two requirements. One, it had to have a music program for him to major in. And two, I would have to be attending college somewhere close by. I tried telling him not to hold himself back on my account. I didn't want to be the reason why he gave up Juilliard and instead got stuck with going to our local community college. In response, he shot me an incredulous look and insisted that he would follow me wherever I decided to go. I was secretly relieved. I had always pictured the two of us enjoying college life together. It was nice to hear that he wanted the same.
A month ago, a large envelope showed up in my mailbox. I tore it open and had to sit down to collect myself. Cornell - my dream college - had accepted me. And to top that off, I had a full scholarship. I couldn't believe it. My smile grew to gigantic proportions until I remembered that Cornell is in New York state. What would Edward do if I chose Cornell? Were there any other colleges close by where he could go? Even if there were some around, would he even want to live so far away from everyone in Forks? Question after question tormented my thoughts.
Later that day when Edward stopped by my house, he had an announcement to make. He had been accepted at Cornell, too. I was ecstatic by the news. Then immediately suspicious. Two kids from tiny Forks, Washington got into the same Ivy League university? There's no way that would happen on its own. I pressed him on the matter, but he swore that he didn't do a thing to initiate this "coincidence" other than mention casually to the Cullens where I wanted to go to college and that he wanted to go there as well.
I took him at his word and turned my eye to those meddling vampires. I suspect one of them got Edward and me in by slipping just the right amount of cash into the university's treasury. I've tried to deduce who is responsible but no one will own up to it. Most of them say something along the lines that I should just accept how things turned out and enjoy the opportunity that was given us. I guess they're right. Both the literature and music programs at Cornell are excellent. I think Edward and I will be very happy there. Well... I'll be happy until I discover that so much money was shucked out to get us into that place that the board decided to officially rename it Cullen University.
Edward and I dodge people and luggage as we navigate to our flight's gate. Sea-Tac is packed today, filled with spring breakers just like us. We're traveling to Jacksonville to stay with Mom and Phil during our week off from school. Mom has been dying to meet Edward for months, but our busy schedules have proven difficult to coordinate. Ever since Phil became a coach for a minor league team, it's harder for them to come up with the spare time to visit his one hundred relatives plus me. Carlisle and Esme came up with a solution when they gifted me an airline gift card at Christmas, loaded with more than enough money for a round trip flight to Jacksonville. Part of me had been upset with their expensive present - especially since it was nonrefundable and all I had given them was a potted plant for Esme and a paperweight for Carlisle's desk. But once they pointed out that the gift was for Mom just as much as it was for me, it was harder to be mad at them. They also hinted that there was enough on the gift card to cover the expense of taking a friend along with me to Florida. That alone brought a smile back to my face. Long distance travel with Edward beats leaving him behind for days on end.
Certain parties were not happy about the trip at first. When I announced our plans for spring break, Charlie began sulking in his recliner and staring at Edward strangely - as if he thought we were making up the visit to Mom's house and that my boyfriend was secretly taking me across state lines just so he could have his wicked way with me. I tried to make him see reason by reminding him that I was eighteen years old and about to go off to college with Edward in only a few months time. That didn't help. His mouth pouted more and his glares intensified. I was reduced to begging Mom to have a talk with Charlie over the phone. She promised that Edward would stay on her living room couch every night instead of sleeping with me. This pacified him and he resumed normal relations with Edward. If only my dad knew that Edward has been sneaking into my room two or three times a week for the past eight months and hasn't done anything too risqué, maybe he would understand that he has nothing to worry over. Then again, maybe that wouldn't be a good idea for him to know about that. Being told that a teenager has become an expert at breaking into your house might hurt Charlie's pride as a law enforcement officer.
Speaking of our late night rendezvous, Edward has stuck by his strict moral code for all this time. If our intimacy level could be measured like a movie rating, I would say that we're hovering somewhere around PG-13. Whenever we get near the R rating, he throws on the brakes and turns off the steam. It's torture when his restraint activates and brings him back to his senses.
While I love what he is willing to do, I can't help but crave more. Every kiss and touch ignites a flame inside of me. So by the time he has to go home for the night, my body is fully engulfed and ready to implode. I think it's safe to say that I have solved the mystery of spontaneous human combustion. It leaves me wondering if I will even be alive by the time Mom says it's safe to get married. I doubt it. My thirtieth birthday sounds like eons away. All that will be left of me by then is ash and a burnt stump.
I hear the announcement saying it's time to board our flight, shaking me free from my thoughts. Edward and I shuffle our way to first class, a place I've never had the luxury of being in before. He's never been on an airplane, period. I arranged that he get the window seat since this is his first time flying. Meanwhile, I lower myself into my aisle seat and try to act natural. I feel a little out of my element, like I don't belong in this section of the airplane. If I take a peek at my surroundings, I'll probably see a few local celebrities and business executives sipping from champagne flutes and looking down their noses at the clearly middle-class girl who somehow wrangled a seat with the bigwigs. Of course, if I were to check their net worths, I would probably find out that the bronze-haired guy next to me has more money hidden away just in his sock drawer than they have in all of their bank accounts combined. I won't be doing any investigations like that, though. Since the Cullens manage Edward's fortune for him, it likely grows exponentially by the day. They took the hundreds his parents left him and somehow turned it into millions. But highlighting the fact that he is mind-bogglingly wealthy does me no good. Ignorance is bliss. I prefer to keep up the illusion that he and I are equals in all things.
When the engines kick on and the plane begins taxiing down the runway, I relax into my seat and allow my mind to drift again. In only a few hours time, I'll be someplace with sandy white beaches and bright, sizzling sunlight. I haven't been to a place like that in ages. Phoenix had the hot sun but no beaches. And Forks has beaches but no hot sun. It's about time I get to experience them simultaneously.
It's few minutes into the flight and the airplane still climbs into the sky. I turn my face slightly to smile at Edward. It's nice having company during a flight instead of being alone. But once I get a good look at him, my smile slides away. All I am met with are a pair of eyelids clamped so hard that it wrinkles his forehead.
"Edward? Are you OK?" I ask softly.
His abnormally pale face moves from side to side in response to the question.
My hand falls on top of his knee. "What's wrong?"
One forest green eye pries apart just enough to focus on me. "I... I'm not feeling well at the moment. But I'm sure I'll be better once we land."
His vague answer has me confused at first. But once I combine it with his clenched eyes and the strained expression, everything clicks into place.
My mouth lowers into a frown. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you suffer from motion sickness. If I had known, I would have brought Dramamine. Umm... lie back and try to stay still. I'll see if they carry ginger ale as soon as the drink cart passes by. That should help you a little bit."
Edward's head shakes in the negative again. "That not-... Motion sickness isn't a problem for me. I-" He abruptly cuts himself off and swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "I looked out of the window," he reveals quietly.
"What?"
Edward draws in a deep breath and expels it sharply. "The window. I took a look and...saw that we're up fairly high. Much higher than I imagined we would be..." He stops there and allows his words to trail off.
Edward was around two years old when the Wright brothers took off in their rudimentary airplane. And they went up into the air what? Ten feet that first time? This airplane's current altitude is at least twenty thousand feet with another fifteen thousand or so left to go before it levels off. No wonder he's nervous. It's not like he grew up in a time where flying was a common occurrence. I should have thought of this before.
"Oh," I breathe out guiltily. "It's OK. Just don't look out of the window anymore. Once we're at cruising altitude, I'll trade seats with you if you want."
Edward's eyes fly open wide and bore into mine. "No," he replies, his voice near a growl.
"Why not?"
With his lips pressed into a thin line, he says nothing in return. I keep staring, waiting for him to fill in the blanks of his problem. But since he continues to be stubbornly silent, I am forced to come up with the answer myself.
I pretend that I am an ordinarily brilliant guy from 1918 who has occasional idiotic tendencies when it comes to certain things - like always needing to be the perfect gentleman no matter what. The answer to the question of why he doesn't want to move comes to me remarkably fast.
I feel a giggle percolating in my abdomen. It works its way up until it tickles my throat. "Oh... Are you trying to protect me? From the window?" My hand smothers my mouth as I try to suppress the laughter.
Edward's eyebrows lower into a scowl. "No, I am not protecting you from the window," he mimics sarcastically. "I'm protecting you from being sucked out of the window seat if something goes wrong during the flight."
I stop smiling and soften my gaze. "Edward, commercial airliners are safe. The odds of you or me being in a crash are low. Besides, I promise that I can handle being in the window seat. That's where I usually sit whenever I fly. I like looking out and seeing everything for miles around. It's fun."
A bronze brow arches an inch. Evidently it's owner isn't buying my story completely. Since he refuses to change seats, I pull down the window shade and order him not to touch it unless the flight attendant tells him to. Not long afterwards, he loosens his grip on the armrest and resumes being his normal self. Completely ignoring the fact that we're flying through the clouds seems to lessen his anxiety.
It's dusk when we touch down in Jacksonville. I see hints of the orange and pink sunset as it languidly sinks below the horizon. As we retrieve our luggage, the magnitude of today hits me. Edward will soon meet my mom. My well-meaning but often scatterbrained mother has a history of creating awkward situations. If I don't give Edward a heads up, he might think she's a nut.
I slow my walking pace and nibble at my lip. "Hey. There's something I need to tell you, Edward. My mom is - um - well...she's a lot different than Charlie."
The ends of his mouth twitch up. "I should hope so. Otherwise that dress Alice nagged you to bring for your mother will be looking quite odd if the woman looks anything like Charles Swan. Tell me, does she have a mustache, too?" he teases.
I flash him a glare. "I'm serious. Mom isn't like Charlie at all - or probably anyone you've ever met. She's absent-minded and forgets things easily. She doesn't have a verbal filter either. Anything and everything on her mind will come out of her mouth. And she doesn't get embarrassed. Ever." My feet stop in their tracks. I gaze deeply into his eyes, all the while hoping he will understand the importance of what I am about to reveal. "And - no matter what, Edward - do not eat anything she has made herself. Mom can't cook at all. Even if she hands you something as simple as a ham sandwich, you can't trust it. Just thank her like you normally would but throw it away as soon as she isn't around."
Edward laughs, the sound pleasant enough to draw the notice of several people around us. "I think I can handle your mother, love. I've spoken with her on the phone before. She seems like a lovely person."
I sigh at his carefree attitude. "Yeah, Mom is great. She's kind and sweet and probably the happiest, friendliest person on Earth. But you don't understand. You only talked to her for a couple of minutes. I gave her strict instructions not to ask you anything weird AND I stayed beside you during the entire conversation. She didn't have the time or opportunity to say anything embarrassing. But now we'll be around her for days on end. There's no way she will behave for that long."
He moves both of our duffel bags into one hand and wraps his free arm around my shoulders, giving a half hug as we resume walking. "Bella, I've looked forward to meeting your mother for months. I wouldn't miss the opportunity for the world. Even if she does what you fear, I promise I can take it. I learned how to survive the eccentricities of my... unusual family without a problem. So it's fair to say that I should be able to acclimate myself to your mother's little quirks just as well. Everything will be fine."
I take him at his word and slowly nod in agreement. My boyfriend lives with a group of vampires that - depending on the person and their present state of mood - taunts, teases, insults, annoys, embarrasses, and dotes on him every single day. Since Edward lives under those conditions, he should be able to handle my mom.
We're nearly past security when I see the place where the family and friends of arriving passengers often congregate. Among the crowd, I spot a familiar man holding a sign with my name printed in block letters. His face is young, good-looking, and wrinkle-free while his hairline is in the beginning stages of balding. Standing next to him is a smiling woman with hair like dark roasted coffee - the style perfectly framing her heart-shaped face. Her arms wave frantically above her head like one of those wacky inflatable air dancers at a car dealership that's used to grab your attention. Evidently, my mom and Phil have noticed our arrival.
"There she is," I announce to Edward, tipping my head in their direction.
He searches until he finds the bouncing lady in the horde of people. His mouth purses out musingly. "She looks very much like you."
I snort at his claim. "Yeah, right. Mom has darker hair and big blue eyes - like an updated Liz Taylor. She's beautiful."
Emerald eyes twinkle playfully. "And you are breathtakingly beautiful. See? Like mother, like daughter."
My eyes roll but my lips smile. Although Edward may be delusional, it doesn't mean that I don't like hearing him tell me stuff like that sometimes.
As soon as we clear the security area, Mom makes a run for it while Phil follows behind her. Her arms spread open and her smile grows wider. I stop walking and prepare myself for the inevitable. Mom is an enthusiastic hugger. When you combine that with her cartoon roadrunner speed, it means a collision is imminent. If I'm not careful, we might both be knocked to the floor. I lock my legs into place and prepare for the hug that is sure to come.
Five seconds later, Mom runs straight to Edward - bypassing me completely.
"Hi! It's nice to finally meet you!" she cries as she squeezes him in a bear hug.
Edward's eyes bulge from their sockets and dart over to me in panic. I'm unsure if his strained expression is from the bone crushing pressure she is inflicting on his ribs, or if it's from the fact that a virtual stranger just threw herself into his arms. Maybe it's a little of both.
She backs up half a foot to look him in the eye but keeps him locked in a friendly embrace. "We would have met during Christmas but Phil sprung a surprise cruise on me that we couldn't cancel," she begins to ramble. "Seven days in the Caribbean. I was on the fence about going at first because I thought only old people go on cruises, but I was wrong! We loved the fun atmosphere. It was like a party every single day. There was dancing, rock climbing, and even spa treatments. It was great! Though I was worried about that all-you-can-eat buffet. Did you know that's where you're the most likely to catch a disease?" Her face crinkles in disgust, the tip of her nose turned up like she's doing an impression of a rabbit. "On our first night on board, I saw a woman dig through the crab legs without using any tongs! She used her bare hands! Can you believe it?"
Mom meets my gaze, her outraged face melting back to a smile. She releases her hold on Edward and takes a step towards me. I inhale a deep breath and hold it right before her arms envelope me. The hug she gives is just as lung squishing as the one she gave him. Good thing I prepared myself first.
"Hi, baby. I'm so glad you made it," she murmurs softly as she squeezes air from my chest.
Once an appropriate amount of affection has been exchanged, I slip out of her embrace so that I may breathe comfortably again. "I am, too," I smile back.
Mom gets distracted by Edward's presence again - not that I can blame her. Her eyes do a complete body scan of him, as if he's a statue at a museum and she's here to get a full admission's worth of staring. Around ten seconds later, she locks eyes with me.
"Those pictures you sent didn't do him justice, Bella. Why didn't you tell me that he's so cute? You need to be more descriptive when we talk on the phone," she notes seriously. Her gaze goes back to studying Edward but she continues speaking to me. "Back when I was your age, we'd call boys like him 'studs'. Do you kids still say that sort of thing?"
I grimace at her word choice. Moms aren't supposed to notice the hotness level of their daughter's boyfriend and say it out loud when he stands only three feet away.
Please, please, please tell me Edward is talking to Phil and he didn't hear any of that.
I take a peek and groan at what I see. There is a small smirk etched on Edward's face, aimed at me and no one else.
Yeah. He heard it all...
Unaware of the cringe-worthy moment she created, Mom does a 180 and switches to another topic. She gives him a probing look. "Are you a Leo?" she asks, narrowing her eyes.
His eyebrows knit together in a single, unbroken line. Taking a quick side glance at me, he finally gives an answer. "Um. No, ma'am. My name is Edward."
It's no surprise that Mom's question would go over Edward's head. She's into a lot of the New Age trends while he's the epitome of Old School traditions. I doubt astrology was mainstream back in the time he comes from originally. I can't wait to see how he will react when she inevitably asks if he needs his chakras balanced.
My mouth twists to conceal a smile. "Mom's asking for your astrological sign," I explain to him. "They supposedly can predict your personality traits based on where the planets were positioned on the date you were born." I refocus my sights on Mom and beg her with my eyes to rein in her quirkiness before Edward decides to flee back to the safety of Washington. "Mom, Edward doesn't keep up with any of that New Age stuff - like astrology, crystal therapy, or astral projection. OK?"
"Oh..." she mouths, nodding her head knowingly. "Well, that's fine. I won't bore him then. But, may I at least ask what your birthday is, Edward? I'm a little curious. You stand tall and proud like a Leo, but there's something about your eyes that tells me that you're not of that sign."
Edward peeks stealthily at me and I nod my head to encourage him to answer. Based upon years of experience, I have come to the conclusion that you should just go along with whatever is occupying her interests as long as it's harmless to herself and others. The only time I ever put my foot down was when she thought about studying acupuncture. A person as forgetful as she is should never be near sharp, pointy objects.
"June 20," he responds.
Her eyes somehow appear bluer as they stretch open. "You're a Gemini then! Well, that's exciting! People born under the sign of the Twins are sweet and creative, you know. And very charming, too! It's a wonderful combination to have."
Edward's mouth moves up and down wordlessly for a second or so. He must have no clue what she's talking about. "Err... Thank you?"
Mom's facial expression softens. "I'm so glad Bella found a boy like you. She's loving and loyal, but she's also very shy. Been that way her entire life. She has all the weaknesses of a Virgin. Do you think you can help her?"
My face reddens to nuclear meltdown levels. "V-virgo!" I stammer out in panic. I take a breath and try not to die while in front of so many witnesses. "She means that I am a Virgo, Edward. Virgo the Virgin. It's - uh - my astrological sign," I overly stress.
Mom looks between the two of us, seemingly confused by my miniature freakout. "Isn't that what I said?"
Phil eyes shine with suppressed laughter. "I think that may have been lost in translation, hun."
Mom's short attention span kicks in as soon as she gazes up at her husband. It's the same starry-eyed look she had the day they married. It's nice to see the evidence that their relationship continues to stay strong.
After we leave the airport, we stop off at a bar and grill on the way to their house. Mom asks some of the dinner patrons around the place to give their opinions on what she should order. By the end of our meal, she's made ten new friends and proudly shared with them several "cute" stories from my childhood. Since she is having so much fun, I don't put a stop to it until she tries to tell them about the time when I was brushing my teeth and accidentally poked my eye with the toothbrush. Edward doesn't need to know how I wore a doctor prescribed eye patch for a week and consequently had all of my second grade class believing that I had become a pirate.
It's dark by the time we reach Mom and Phil's house. It isn't huge but it does boast a gorgeous palm tree in the front yard, giving the place a hint of tropical charm. Not that I need to be reminded that I'm in a warmer climate. It's early April and Phil says it reached 84 degrees here today. August must be brutal. As soon as we step inside of the house, Mom complains of the humidity and turns on the air conditioning. The temperature goes from slightly warm to freezer cold in no time. I slip my jacket back on and sigh. It feels like we're back in Forks already.
They direct me to the nice guest room with the comfy double bed while Edward gets stuck with the couch in the living room. It has me feeling bad until I catch him wandering the house aimlessly with his head cocked on its side. I realize what's going on right away. He's mapping out the sounds of the house. He did this at Charlie's place too. Through careful research conducted while my dad was at work, Edward learned every squeak and groan of the structure. He can now move through the darkened house and to my bedroom quieter than a ghost while Charlie snores away obliviously nearby. Normally, he stays only an hour or two before going home for the night. I guess Edward has similar plans during our stay in Jacksonville.
I'm in my pajamas and bundled up underneath the blankets when Mom goes to check on his comfort levels in the living room. I hear him give an assured "fine" as a response and then wish her goodnight. She buys the innocent act, turns off the lights, and heads to her room. Once the house is whisper quiet an hour later, he slips through the door and sneaks into my bed. As I fall asleep, he kisses my forehead and wraps his arms around me - as though he has no plans on leaving anytime soon. I never knew that I would love spring break so much.
Sometime during the night, I am pulled out of a deep sleep when I sense the bed moving. A dim light filters through the window, suggesting dawn is coming soon. I try to sit up but a husky voice coaxes me to lay down and sleep. In my delirium, I do as he says without argument. When I wake up for good at almost nine o'clock, I discover that I am alone again. Edward must have wanted to return to the couch before Mom or Phil woke up.
Holding in a yawn, I drag myself out of bed and dress myself. I wander to the kitchen and find Mom standing there, the unmistakable scent of something cooking hovering in the air. A jolt of fear sweeps over me, as if she holds a butcher knife in her palm instead of a spatula.
"Uhh. Mom. What are you doing?"
She takes a peek over her shoulder and smiles. "Good morning! I'm making breakfast. Go ahead and take a seat. It should be done soon."
I feel my stomach quivering in terror. If it were possible, I have no doubt that it would cut ties with me and escape my body before it's too late.
Edward strolls into the kitchen in a short sleeve button up shirt and damp hair. He apparently just had a shave and shower, a realization which has my imagination running wild and distracts me momentarily from less happy thoughts - like the memories of Mom's famous lasagna surprise. The surprise was that underneath the globs of charred mozzarella, I discovered that she forgot to boil the lasagna noodles first. It was like trying to eat a deck of cheesy playing cards.
Edward takes the chair beside me and looks content with life. Evidently, he is unaware of the danger we are both in.
"Good morning, Mrs. Dwyer," he greets.
Her shoulders shake as she giggles. "Oh, no. Only my kindergarten class uses that name, Edward. You're welcome to call me Renée."
"Yes. Of course. Good morning, Renée," he emphasizes.
Mom's smiling mouth gradually lowers into a small frown. "I'm sorry about the sleeping arrangements, Edward. We probably should have ordered an air mattress for you. That couch wasn't too terrible last night, was it?" she presses guiltily.
"On the contrary. I found where I slept to be quite pleasant." He pauses for a moment, turning on a lopsided smile. His voice drops an octave or two as he monitors my face. "Soft and warm - exactly as I prefer it."
My mouth flops open like a broken door. I don't think he's talking about the couch anymore...
Mom releases a relieved sigh and luckily appears not to catch his true meaning. "That's good to hear. I fell asleep on that couch once and had to go to the chiropractor afterwards. But you're young and don't have the back problems that I do. I had an epidural when I went to the hospital to have Bella, and I think the anesthesiologist accidentally injured a nerve in my lower back because when the doctor told me to push-"
My face crumples in a wince. "Mom! No childbirth stories before ten in the morning, please."
"All right, all right. I'll save it for some other time then," she concedes. She turns away from us to deal with what's in the skillet. "Are you two hungry? I made apple cider pancakes," she announces while she flips one over.
My forehead wrinkles downward. Apple cider pancakes sounds too advanced for her. In the past whenever she tried to cook something, Betty Crocker or Duncan Hines were usually involved in the fiasco since their products are marketed as being "easy" to put together. It never was easy for Renée Dwyer. She would either accidentally skip a step in the cooking process or forget there was a cake in the oven until the fire department showed up to investigate the source of black smoke billowing from our house.
"Where did you find the recipe?" I question with mounting concern.
"I didn't find it. It was given to me. I forgot to tell you that I've been taking a cooking class for the past two weeks. This was one of the first things we learned to make. I can't wait for you to try it!"
"A cooking class?" I repeat.
"Uh-huh. I figured it was about time Phil and I stopped relying on fast food and take out Chinese so much. And learning how to cook sounded like fun." Turning the cooking eye to its off position, she carefully piles the pancakes she made onto a platter and sets them in the middle of the table. "OK! Bon appetit, you two. I got some flour on my blouse so I'm gonna go clean up a bit. I'll join you in just a minute. Don't forget the sauce I made for the pancakes!" Then she walks out of the kitchen and disappears from sight.
Edward grabs a fork and selects three pancakes to put on his plate. He's going for that syrup concoction when my hand falls on his wrist and grasps it tightly. "What are you doing?" I demand.
His mouth turns down at the corners. "Am I doing something wrong? I assumed your mother wanted us to go on with breakfast."
My eyes widen. "Are you nuts?" I accuse in a low voice. "Don't you remember what I said at the airport? You can't eat her food!"
He chuckles a low, rumbling laugh. "Love, I believe you may be underestimating your mother's abilities. She did say that she's been taking classes as of late. And these pancakes look perfectly delicious. Perhaps she has a history of cooking disasters, but you are never too old to change things for the better. She obviously has tried her very hardest to please us today. So don't you think we should at least give them a chance before automatically damning her and turning our noses up at what she made?"
My entire face screws up. I hate it when he's right.
"Fine," I huff. "But you try them first."
"Gladly."
He prepares his plate to his liking and pours on a generous amount of her homemade apple crumble sauce topping. He takes a bite, exuding confidence all the while. Yet the more he chews, the quicker his warm smile fades. It doesn't take long before his face is contorted and looking whiter than it did on the airplane.
I swipe up a napkin and stuff it into his hand. "Spit it out!" I order in a whisper yell.
Ignoring his table manners, he does as I command and spits it into the napkin. His overall appearance improves once it's out of his mouth and sitting in the trash can.
"So...what's wrong with it?" I press.
He swallows roughly and points to his throat. "Burning," he wheezes. A coughing fit overtakes him. I pour him out some milk to wash down whatever is torturing his throat.
After he drinks and the danger has passed, he thinks it over. "I...I'm not sure exactly. I expected sweet but it was more...acidic? Like how I would imagine the inside of a car battery would taste."
My hand rubs on his broad shoulder to comfort him. I probably could get away with saying "I told you so", but I will not be doing that today. Edward has been through enough trauma this morning for me to go and add insult to injury.
Mom breezes back into the kitchen, wearing a new shirt but the same old grin. She takes a look down at our plates and a flash of confusion sweeps over her. "Sweetie, you haven't touched your breakfast. Is something wrong?"
Damn it. I was so busy trying to keep Edward from having to go to the emergency room, I forgot to get rid of a few pancakes to produce the illusion that we ate them. Now I am forced to either swallow down the hazardous material to make her happy, or give her a hint of the truth to save us from food poisoning. I gnaw on my lower lip while I quickly go over my options. Ultimately, telling the truth wins out in the end. I don't want to eat that stuff and die a virgin.
I back out from my chair and stand by the table, trying to keep my facial expression neutral. "Mom, what did you put in those pancakes?"
A bit of her cheerful attitude returns. "Come over here and I'll show you."
She directs me to several items still sitting out on the counter. All purpose flour. Baking powder. Sugar. It's everything I would expect to see in a recipe for pancakes. But when I spot one particular item positioned next to the cinnamon, I realize where most of the trouble probably stems.
I breathe out a long sigh, my shoulders slumping. "Please tell me that you didn't put that in your 'apple cider pancakes'."
Her grin dips into the beginnings of a frown. "Actually...I did. Is there something wrong with it? It's not expired, is it?"
I pick up the bottle and hand it to her. "No. But - Mom - you were supposed to put in apple cider. It's similar to apple juice. But what you bought...well... this is apple cider vinegar," I reveal, pointing at the label. "You use this for making things like salad dressing. It's kind of sour tasting. And very strong. It isn't anything like apple cider."
Her forehead creases as she studies the bottle. "Oh? Really? I didn't realize there was a difference." She unscrews the lid and takes a whiff. Her head jerks back. "Ooff! That does have a strong smell, doesn't it?"
"Yeah. It does. So - uh - if you don't mind, I think Edward and I are going to eat something else this morning. All right?"
Mom pats my hand several times. "Sure, baby. I understand. You have whatever you want. I'll try making the pancakes again sometime soon. There's a gourmet grocery store nearby and I'll swing by there to pick up that apple cider. OK?"
I produce a tiny smile and nod even though I am extremely frightened. Hopefully, her poor memory will kick in and save us from another pancake breakfast from hell.
Opening up the cabinets, I browse through the shelves in search of something decent to eat. In the meantime, Mom moves to tidy up the kitchen and puts the dirty dishes in the sink. She pauses mid-step while staring at the insides of a large red mixing bowl. "Well, that's weird," she says slowly. "I could have sworn I threw away those eggshells earlier, but I'm seeing a piece of one in the bowl I mixed the pancake batter in. I wonder what happened to the rest?"
Edward's face falls into despair. "I suppose that explains the crunchy texture," he mumbles under his breath.
"Hey. Where do you keep the cereal bowls, Mom?" I say to drown him out. There's no sense in highlighting every single problem with her cooking all in one go. I don't want to hurt her feelings.
She points across the room and I dig out two. I set the bowls on the table and try to make small talk. "I haven't seen Phil yet this morning."
With her back turned, she washes the dishes. "That's because he isn't here. I was getting ready to make breakfast when Phil found out that he had to go to an emergency meeting for his job. They should be done by ten."
I keep my mouth locked tight but my suspicions have been activated. An emergency meeting? For a minor league baseball coach? Highly doubtful if you ask me. I bet if I checked, I'd find Phil hiding out at the nearest fast food joint and scarfing down an Egg McMuffin. He probably saw Mom in the kitchen and decided to bolt. I don't blame him at all. When you live with Renée full-time, you have to learn survival techniques or you won't make it.
I'm pulling out a few boxes of cereal for us to choose from when I hear the phone ring. Mom dries her hands off on a towel and sprints to the living room to answer it. I lug the cereal boxes over to the table and dump them out of my arms. Flopping onto my chair, I grab the Cocoa Puffs and fill up my bowl to almost the top. Next, I add the milk and lift a spoonful of the chocolaty goodness to my mouth. I glance up for a second and find Edward staring hard at me.
"What?" I blurt out, suddenly self-conscious.
His eyes narrow. "Honestly, I am shocked by what I see. You hound your father every day to eat healthier. Yet here you are eating the same garbage that contributes to this nation's many health problems."
I roll my eyes while spooning in a bite and swallowing it down. "I can't make a big, balanced breakfast of fruit, dairy, and protein every single morning. It takes too much time. Besides, this is really good. Haven't you ever tried it before?"
His brow cocks up high. "Esme Cullen would rather set herself on fire than bring something like that into the house. So the short answer is no."
That sounds about right. The homemaker vampire who never gets tired has plenty of time to whip up her surrogate son a fancy breakfast each morning. But he will soon be going off to college and there will be no Esme there to cook for him. So, he's going to have to start learning how to eat like the rest of us now before she's forced to send him care packages of her home-cooked meals for the rest of his life.
I push some Froot Loops in front of him. "At least try them. You'll get used to it."
He scowls at the box and reads the back. Moments later, his eyes meet mine. "First of all, I refuse to consume something that purposely misspells fruit. It's idiotic. And secondly, why is it called Froot Loops if it has no fruit? Out of the eighteen ingredients listed, at least six look to be lab created food colorings. Couldn't they have added something natural instead?"
I shrug indifferently. "I don't know. If you don't like it, eat something else then. Like the Frosted Flakes. I think its packaging has perfect spelling. Would that be more to your liking?" I end with a smirk.
Ignoring my jab, he reaches over to the table's centerpiece. He selects a bright green apple, checking it's outer surface for imperfections. "No thank you. I would much rather take my chances on something that doesn't need for there to be a 'free prize' inside in order to tempt you to eat it," he deadpans.
I shove in another bite of my cereal while he chews his apple. To each his own, I guess.
With breakfast over, I go to place my cereal bowl in the kitchen sink and happen to get a glimpse out of the window. What I see brings on a frown. The sun is blocked by ugly gray clouds. The palm tree in the front yard is rocking in the wind. And, worse of all, rain falls in sheets from above.
What in the hell is this? I came to Jacksonville to escape the clouds and rain for a little while. Instead it looks like I brought them with me from Forks. So much for this place calling itself the Sunshine State. I should sue for false advertising.
Since our plans for the beach are shot, we go to a contemporary art museum. It isn't how I dreamed this day would go, but it isn't a bad experience either. It's nice to be able to hang around this side of my family again. And both of them seem to get along with Edward just fine. Mom oohs and aahs over his gentlemanly OCD door opening habit and impeccable manners. He and Phil bond over baseball during lunch. And when Mom gets sidetracked into making friends with our art museum tour guide, Edward whisks me behind a stone column and shows me that his mouth alone is more talented than all the artists whose works are featured within this place.
That night, he creeps to my bed and spends the night nuzzling my neck. I fall into a blissful, heavy sleep. I never even hear him leave. When I wake up in the early morning, the bed feels cold and empty. Having him there when I fall asleep but not when I wake sucks.
I try to go back to sleep but it's useless. It's stupid that I'm supposed to stay here in this lonely room when Edward is roughly twenty steps away. I bet there's just enough room on that couch for me. My body demands that I go to him.
As I walk down the hallway, I hear murmuring voices coming from the living room. I find Mom curled up on the couch, clutching a cup of hot tea while she chats with Edward. He sits on the other end, still in a t-shirt and sleep pants. Clumps of his hair sticks up in the front. It's either been meticulously styled or that's just the way he rolled out of bed. Either way, he looks great.
As soon as they notice me enter, their heads snap in my direction.
"Oh!" yelps Mom. "Hi, sweetie. You're up early."
"Yeah. I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep." I look at them one at a time - it just now occurring to me how strange it is for my mom to be awake before eight in the morning unless it's a work day. "So, what's up?"
She peeks at Edward for a split second. "Umm... We've just been getting to know each other a little bit." Taking a tiny sip of her tea, she smacks her lips together. "Mmm! This rosehip tea is delicious. Would you like some?"
I shake my head no.
She giggles a strange little laugh, her eyes nervously moving in their sockets. "Edward didn't either. He likes plain black tea. Sugar but no cream. Just like you."
My brows slant as I stare at her. "I know," I drawl out.
Why is she acting so weird? Is this woman high? Did she accidentally order marijuana-infused herbal tea?
A genuine smile resurfaces on her face and she sits up straighter. "He was just telling me something incredible, honey. Did you know that he's played the piano since he was a little boy? He even knows Flight Of The Bumblebee - my favorite! And he's going to major in music this fall! He wants to learn how to compose! Isn't that exciting?"
I meet Edward's grinning eyes and heave a sigh. I only told Mom about those things during nearly every one of our phone conversations for the past month. Her head gets so disorganized sometimes that I'm surprised she hasn't forgotten where she lives.
"I know, Mom. I told you most of that already. Remember?"
"You did?" Her mouth purses out and her eyes squint. "No wonder it sounded so familiar." Two seconds later, her worry evaporates - her smile chipper and carefree once again. "Anyway, I checked the forecast and it calls for clear weather today. How about we all go down to the beach?"
We part ways to prepare for a day spent in the hot sand and warm surf. I walk as quickly as my clumsy legs allow and reach the guest room. I pull out my duffel bag and search for my swimsuit - if you can call it that. It's more like a full-body cover-up posing as swimwear. It even has pants. It's terrific for hiding your flaws.
Not seeing it right away, I dump out all of the clothes and sort through the contents on my bed. But I don't see my swimsuit anywhere.
Then like a flashback in a movie, I recall Alice volunteering to pack my bag the night before the trip. Since she literally exists on this earth for this type of thing, I gave the go ahead. I unzipped the bag later on to check for any frilly, overly-feminine articles of clothing she might have tried to slip in but I only saw my normal things. I thought everything was OK.
I try to keep my cool as I yank out the wheeled suitcase she insisted I bring. She probably ran out of room in the bag and had to put my swimsuit in here, I reason. And after a short dig through it, I do find a swimsuit. Though, as I should have foreseen, it's just not my swimsuit.
Where mine was modest enough where I could walk inside of a library without raising any eyebrows, this thing is the polar opposite. It's cornflower blue with white trim. Oh, and it's a bikini, too. The look-at-my-boobs kind. A calendar pin-up girl might be proud to wear it but not me. I would look ridiculous. I don't have the figure for such a thing - or the skin for that matter. My complexion is so fair that I'll get a sunburn if I sit under a street lamp for too long. Covering myself in many layers of clothing - plus heaps of sunscreen - is the only way I survived my years in Arizona.
I look up and glare at the empty room, hoping that my psychic best friend is receiving a vision of my angry mouth and hard-set eyes.
"You'd better hide your Louis Vuitton's before I get back home, Alice," I threaten. Destroying her pair of thousand dollar shoes in exchange for her treacherous act sounds like fair recompensation.
I closely examine what clothes I do have with me and try to strategize a plan. Soon, I'm standing in front of the mirror and gloating at my ingenuity. Alice may have switched swimsuits on me, but she didn't anticipate my improvisation skills. Over that teeny bikini is a baggy white t-shirt that almost reaches my knees and shorts to match. It's almost as good as my original swimsuit cover-up. And to keep the sun off my face, I wear a big, floppy hat she would despise.
Ha! What are you going to do now, Alice? You can't dictate what I wear all the way from Forks anymore, can you?
The beach is already packed by the time we get there. Edward and Phil mimic camels as they tote all of our belongings to the location my mom deems to be the "perfect" spot. Phil sets up a huge umbrella and I immediately crawl underneath it's shadow. It's only midmorning and the sun is already scorching its beams down on us like a magnifying glass on a colony of ants. I'm pretty sure if I hadn't slathered myself in SPF 100 before I left the house, I would have burst into flames during our short walk through the sand.
Once the blankets are down and the ice cooler in a safe place, Mom and Phil take turns rubbing each other with sunblock. It's making me a little sick to my stomach since she's looking at him with bedroom eyes.
Edward drops down beside me and gives my senses something else to focus on. He has on light gray board shorts and a t-shirt. It's nice on him, making him look a little like a surfer waiting on just the right conditions before taking a plunge into the ocean. However, an idea sparks inside of me that I can't shake.
We live in Forks, Washington - the coldest, gloomiest, cloudiest, and rainiest town in existence. The only place I have ever seen him shirtless is in the darkness of my bedroom. This is a travesty. I want to witness the splendor of Edward's chest exposed to the sun. It would really cheer me up after what Alice did. Plus, he needs to work on living the modern way sometimes. Most of the guys around here aren't wearing a t-shirt and blah, blah, blah. But my point remains - that shirt must go.
I bump into his shoulder to grab his attention. "Aren't you going to take your shirt off?"
He stares back with a confused face. "I wasn't planning on it. Why?"
"Because ninety-nine percent of the other males around us have theirs off. And you know how the saying goes. When in Rome, do as the Romans do."
He fidgets on the beach blanket, his eyes darting uncomfortably at the scantily-clad bodies sunning themselves all around. "Bella. I'm not accustomed to even being in a place like this. I barely know where to look. And you're saying that I should join them in exposing myself for all to see? To be like that in privacy is one thing. But out in the open with hundreds nearby?" He shakes his head back and forth a few times. "I'm not sure if it's proper."
I move in closer, not allowing him to look away. "Now listen to me, Edward. You know how important it is to stop holding on to every single thing from your past. People don't live that way anymore. You have to try harder to fit into the here and now."
"Bella..."
"Please? It's important."
We remain locked in our gaze for a while. I widen my eyes to emphasize my pleading. He stops blinking completely. Gradually, he comes back to life and closes his eyes from view. A long breath exhales from his nose.
"You are lethal whenever you choose to unleash your feminine wiles," he mutters. Seconds later, he yanks his shirt from over his head and tosses it behind him. "Happy now?" he asks with a touch of exasperation.
My eyes rake up and down his torso and try not to look too excited. "Mmm-hmm. This is good for you." It's also good for me. Very, very good. Turns out that there's a few ab muscles down there that I never noticed in the dark before.
Phil saunters up to our feet with a volleyball tucked under an arm. "Hey, Edward. You wanna play a game? Best two out of three."
Edward glances at me and I enthusiastically bob my head up and down to encourage him. I typically don't like watching sports. But I'm not crazy. The only thing better than seeing Edward sitting underneath an umbrella without a shirt on is seeing Edward running around the beach without a shirt on. This should take care of at least three different fantasies of mine.
The two of them trudge off to the nearby volleyball net and take up their positions. Phil throws the ball into the air and whacks it to the other side. Edward does a jump and spikes it back. I get a little thrill from the action and sigh contentedly. It's exactly as I imagined it would be. He's stretching and sliding around for that ball, unconsciously flexing his muscles and generally looking like the perfectly-cast heartthrob of my dreams while doing so.
A pleased smile stretches across my face. I am a freakin' genius...
"He seems nice," Mom's voice comments, interrupting my fantasy feast for the eyes.
She has taken the spot beside me and stares straight into my face, making me slightly nervous. I clear my throat and try to regain some composure. "He is. Um. Nice."
"He seems very responsible, too. You don't see that in a teenager too often."
"Yeah. Well, he... He had to grow up fast," I explain hesitantly, although that is the truth.
"I know, baby. He told me about it this morning. I can't believe something so terrible could happen to that poor boy. It's like something from a science fiction horror movie."
I stare back in shock. I can't believe he would tell Mom his life's secrets. She can't handle knowing the truth. She'll remember the story but will forget that she can't tell anyone. The entire state of Florida will have heard about the time traveling boy before we even leave the beach today.
My heart stutters in my chest. "Really? He told you?"
"Yes. I can't imagine how painful it would be for both of your parents to die of the same disease. And so close together! It's too horrible to even think about." Her mouth presses together as she shakes her head from side to side. "I would have never guessed he had been through such a tragedy. He seems so happy and well-adjusted. Though, while he was giving me the story, I could see in his eyes how much it had hurt him."
A tiny frown tugs at my mouth. He may not have given her the unvarnished truth, but he gave just enough for even Mom to pick up on his old wounds. "Yeah. And I think not being able to let them know that he's OK now bothers him a little, too."
Mom's expression turns contemplative. "Hmm... I'll talk to him about reincarnation then. Their souls my have already been transplanted to their new vessels. I bet that would make him feel better." Her eyes light up further. "Or we could hold a seance. They may be waiting just over the other side of the spiritual plain, waiting for him to communicate first."
I heave a long moan, but it's more of a laugh than anything else. "Please, no. Don't do that. He isn't that spiritual of a person, Mom."
Checking on how the volleyball game is progressing, I watch Edward make a dive for the ball and send it flying over the net. He's up on his feet an instant later and absentmindedly brushing off sand from his abdomen. I hear a chorus of loud giggles, and my eyes reluctantly flick away from him. Sitting all around the outskirts of the volleyball area are people watching the match. A few are just little kids staring in absorbed fascination. There's an elderly couple sitting in folding chairs and chatting while they observe Edward and Phil's game. But the most noticeable are the colony of female spectators who have congregated. They appear to have a few things in common. They all have curvy figures like Pam Anderson, skin perfectly sun-kissed and tan, and eyes all pinned on to my boyfriend.
My lungs start the beginning stages of hyperventilation. Oh, no. What have I done? Why, oh why did I convince him to take that shirt off? I should have known it would attract more than just my admiration. Now he has a whole legion of hot girls smiling and licking their lips at him like he's a piece of fresh meat to nibble on. What if one of those beach bunnies bats their eyes just the right way and hops off into the sunset with him?
"So where are you planning to live once you're in college?" Mom asks.
I tear my focus away from the game for a few moments. "I'm not sure yet. I guess there's always the dorms but I don't think I would like it there. Maybe if I can find a job quickly enough, I can get an apartment near the campus."
"And what about Edward? Where will he live?"
I suck on my bottom lip and shrug a shoulder. "Don't know that either." Every dream I have had in the last four weeks consists of him living with me. But my father's unavoidable temper tantrum and Edward's Old School rules are probably going to be against it, though.
My gaze drifts to the volleyball game to monitor the beach bunny infestation. They're still giggling and flipping their hair around like they're on a magazine cover shoot. But all I really see is the boy - or maybe I should start saying man now - who is taking a drink break with Phil and smiles back at me. If he has noticed his flock of admirers, he doesn't outwardly show it.
A rush of relief washes over my frazzled nerves. I still have him all to myself. And I didn't need jaw-dropping beauty or breasts like firm watermelons to attract him. Take that beach bunnies. The bookworm won in the end...
"Bella?"
I answer Mom without looking away from the volleyball area. "Hmm?"
"That boy is in love with you."
This gets my attention.
My head whips back around to Mom. Her blue eyes are trained on me like a hawk.
I bring forth a fake, faltering smile. "Is this something you read about this morning in his daily horoscope?" I half joke.
"No. I see it on his face every time he looks at you. And when he mentions your name."
I don't know what to say. We have crossed on to dangerous ground. How I react will determine how long Mom's upcoming speech will be. So - to be safe - I stay silent.
"And you're in love with him, too," she adds a heartbeat later.
The inside of my throat shrivels up to the size of a raisin. I thought I hid my obsession well. I've always downplayed my feelings when she would scavenge for information. But my forgetful, kooky, flighty, wonderful mother evidently has seen right through me.
Even though my hands tremble at what is to come, I sit up a little straighter and feign confidence. "Maybe I am."
She surprises me when her lips lift into smile instead of snarling at me as I expected. Her head angles a few degrees. "You know... When I was almost your age, I started dating your father and we-"
A shudder ripples down my spine. "Ugh. Please don't reminisce about that." I groan while fighting the gag reflex.
She titters at my pain. "Oh, sweetie. I won't over-share this time. I promise. This story is free from any intimate details."
My brow arches skeptically but I allow her to go on. If it sounds like she is about to tell me something gross about dating my dad, I'll just bury my head in the sand until it's over.
Her mouth opens to speak but not a word comes out. The smile on her face morphs to a vacant expression. "Um... What was I saying?"
"Something about being my age and dating."
"Oh! That's right! So... I had a lot of boyfriends back when I was a girl. Usually they didn't last long, but I was fine with that. I had fun with them during the short time we were together, and I think that's what counts the most. Then, during the fall of my senior year, your father took me out for the very first time." Mom stops to sigh. "He was more mature than a lot of the boys I went out with. Heck, he was more mature than I was back then. Being with Charlie was a big change for me.
"When we found out I was going to have you two months into the relationship, he didn't run away. He stepped up. And I respect him for that. But we went about doing things without really thinking them through first. When I look back, I see that we didn't really know one another. I didn't realize he was so introverted. And he didn't understand why I always wanted to go out and be around people.
"Marriage shouldn't have come into the picture just because we discovered that I was pregnant. If we had given things a little more time before eloping, I think we would have realized we weren't right for each other. But we worried about the wrong things. We didn't want the town to whisper about the unwed mother. Or for anyone to claim that Charlie was a deadbeat dad. Now I know that we shouldn't have cared so much about what they thought. We should have worked as a team to raise you and that's it.
"So I guess what I'm saying is this: whenever you need to make a decision, don't rush through it. Even if it's something as simple as where you want to live next fall, or as important as what you want to do for a living - take it seriously and think hard about it first. It never hurts to take your time and know what you want before making your final decision. All right?"
My head moves up and down in a nod. What she suggests will be no problem for me. Over-thinking is my specialty. I spend most of my free time obsessing and wondering what I should do.
"Good!" she sings. She leans in closer and giggles like a schoolgirl. "Though, I'm not saying being spontaneous is a bad thing, sweetie. Actually, that's one of the things I love about Phil. I never know what he will do next! Like last week, he found himself alone in his baseball team's locker room and he got this fun idea. So he called me out of the blue and told me to put on my old band majorette outfit from high school and to bring the baton, too. See, we like to spice things up sometimes and-"
I slap my hands over my ears and hum. "La la la. I don't want to hear this. La la la." I can vaguely hear her droning on but I can't make out a word, thank goodness. Mom has yet to understand that I am not one of her gal pals who wants the details of her erotic sex life.
By noon, Phil and Edward collapse under the umbrella and gobble up the sub sandwiches I made. Mom apparently got domestic again and surprises me with a container of homemade potato salad she prepared just for my benefit since she remembered how much I like it. While I don't want to hurt her feelings, I also don't want to have stomach issues today. So, I mime spooning the potato salad into my mouth, make chewing motions with my jaw, and then do an exaggerated gulp to give the illusion that I am eating it. For the first time in my life, I understand exactly why the Cullens dislike pretending to eat so much. It's hard work pulling it off.
When she digs through her beach bag in search of her sunglasses, I take the opportunity to rid myself of some of it by tossing a piece to a hovering seagull. He catches it mid-air and swallows it whole. Within moments, he plummets from the sky, flops around on the sand like he's having convulsions, and hacks it back up. This is kind of worrisome. I've seen a seagull eat a dead jellyfish that stank to high heaven. So I know if this hardy creature can't handle Mom's food creation, I probably wouldn't have survived eating it at all. As an apology for what I put him through, I give him the rest of the bread from my sandwich. He earned it.
For dessert, Mom convinces Phil to go with her to pick up some ice cream cones from a nearby stand. Edward and I pass on it and wave a goodbye as they maneuver through the crowd of beach goers.
Not long after they leave, Edward looks over at me and does a head jerk towards the waves. "The water temperature should be warm today. And I see that the crowds have thinned out a bit since this morning. Let's go swimming," he suggests.
I draw my legs underneath myself, my posture slouching. "I don't know if that's a good idea..."
His brows furrow together. "Why not? What's the point of going to the beach if you're only going to hide underneath an umbrella all day?"
I shoot him a black look. "I'm sitting here because I burn easily. My skin wasn't made for frolicking in the blazing sunlight. I have to protect it. And the threat is even worse out in the water. The reflection is like dealing with two suns instead of one. I don't want to spend the rest of our spring break in the burn unit at the hospital. I thought I would play it safe here."
"Did you put on sunscreen?"
"Yeah."
"Then you should be fine. We'll only be out there for a few minutes. I think your skin can handle that much exposure without peeling away from your bones," he says dryly.
I pull the floppy hat off from my head and roll my eyes. "Fine. But if I end up with a sunburn, Edward, I'm blaming you."
"Deal. And I suppose I will be the one responsible for applying the burn ointment then?" he grins.
I pause in my movements and stare. For the first time ever, having a sunburn doesn't sound so bad.
Still slightly discombobulated by his teasing remark, I take the clip from my hair and let the long strands fall down my back. I then awkwardly rise from my sitting position and dust off the grains of sand stuck to my clothing. I take one step off the blanket before a hand clasps my shoulder.
"You're planning to swim in that?"
I look down self-consciously at my big t-shirt and shorts. Edward isn't usually the type of person that cares what I wear. He sees me in sweats all the time and never complained once. To bring up my lack of style is unlike him.
"Yes," I confirm.
"But why would you swim in clothes that were never intended to be in the ocean when you have on a perfectly good swimsuit underneath them?"
My eyes stretch open until they feel like they will burst from my skull. "How did you know about that?"
Does Edward have x-ray vision that sees through your clothing? Should I stop wearing my unicorn panties now?
His mouth twists as he thinks of a reply. "Umm... A little birdie told me?"
The blood in my veins simmers to a boil.
Alice.
If she wasn't already technically dead, she would be for sure once I got a hold of her. She must have messaged him about my secret bikini. First she sabotages me into wearing this... thing and then she spills the beans to Edward.
My eyes narrow up at the cloudless blue sky. I make the decision to sneak into her house while she's gone out of town. Then I imagine myself cutting up her collection of designer handbags with gardening shears. Although I doubt I will do that for real, this vision should at least terrify her enough to quench my desire for revenge.
Lowering my gaze from the sky and back to Edward's face, my shyness gradually creeps back. Bella Swan wearing a bikini that shows off her unfit thighs and microscopic bust doesn't sound like a good idea - especially when there are plenty of girls around here wearing much less and making it look good. I can't compete with them. I was kind of hoping to get Edward used to my figure in a more gradual way first. Like, by having him see it under cover of darkness so he won't be overwhelmed by my mediocrity all at once.
"I...I think it would be best if I keep the swimsuit under my clothes today. It's new and I don't want the fabric to fade in this bright sunlight. I'll wear it again some other time," I lie.
His head tilts incredulously. Lean arms fold across his chest. "We leave in two days. Are you planning on doing a polar swim in the waters around Forks when we get back home?"
"No..."
"Then when were you planning to wear it? And why are you giving me excuses? A fading swimsuit, Bella?" He blows a scoffing puff of air from his nose. "The day when you care about taking care of your clothing to such an extent will be the day when pigs fly."
He's gotten to know me too well. Edward sees right through my lies now.
I stare at his throat instead of his eyes. "I don't feel comfortable about being stared at, OK? I'm not in shape and prefer to leave my flaws to everyone's imaginations instead of confirming it. And once people see the world's palest human girl walking around in this setting, the staring gets worse." My arms wrap around my torso. "One time at the pool, someone asked in between their fits of laughter if I had been locked away from the sun most of my life. It was beyond embarrassing and I would rather not have it happen again."
I am met with silence. A long, long moment of silence.
"I see," he muses, nodding his head. "So let me get this straight. When you suggested earlier that I 'do as the Romans do' and stop worrying over my past - that should only apply to me? Is that what you think?"
My mouth juts into a small pout. "No," I grumble.
"Then I believe you should follow your own advice. I have seen every body type on this beach plus every shade of skin represented. No one will think less of you just because you don't look exactly like they do. However, you should know that if some imbecile were to say something to insult you, I believe my fist would shut them up quickly enough."
I give a warning stare. Having to bail him out of jail wouldn't make for a fun vacation. "No you won't."
"I won't if you get out of that t-shirt and swim with me. If we're busy out there in the water, I won't be tempted to sock anyone's face in." He winks to let me know that he only kidding about that last part. Well...I hope that's what it means.
I inhale a lungful of air and try to prepare myself mentally. I can do this. If I can't stand in front of him with a bikini on, how can I ever expect to be with him without anything on at all?
Quickly and before I can chicken out, I pull off my baggy t-shirt and step out of my shorts. The sun feels like it's shining a spotlight on me and my swimsuit. At least no one is throwing any tomatoes yet.
I shyly peek up through my lashes. Edward's eyes are taking their time in traveling over me. When they finally do meet my face, they burn brighter than the sun today. "Very nice. If I had known you were hiding that under your clothes all this time, I would have talked you into swimming much sooner."
My cheeks flush light pink. He may still be Old School, but he is also smoother than Don Juan.
Edward's crooked smile slides into place. "You know, the walk down to the water is an awful long way off. So, I was thinking... Why don't we walk down there the fun way?"
"The fun way?" I repeat, screwing up my face. "What's that?"
His grin stretches wider. "I'll show you."
The next thing I know, he picks me up and my world flips upside down. The sand is where the sky should be. Blood rushes to my head. My idiot decided to be cute and throw me over his shoulder.
"Edward!" I yelp on instinct.
He strolls along while holding on to my legs. "Hmm?"
"Put me down!" I hiss.
"Why? I'm merely helping you make it to the ocean safely. There are a lot of people and seashells scattered around here to trip over," he jokes, never slowing his pace.
His long legs cover the distance between our blanket and the shore relatively quick. From my flipped position, I see the bubbling waves envelope his feet. He continues walking until the water reaches his waist.
"Ready to come down now?" he asks - as if the whole carrying me thing was my idea.
"Yes!"
"Oh? So you want me to throw you in?"
I gasp. "No! Don't you dare!"
"But that was going to be the fun part."
"Edward," I growl.
I overhear a chuckle before he slowly lowers my legs into the water. I'm a bit wobbly after the bouncy ride on his shoulder, yet I find a way to remain steady on my feet. At first my body breaks into goosebumps from the abrupt temperature change. But I must admit that although it isn't quite as warm as the humid air, the water does feel perfect.
Soon I whip around and scan the shoreline. After the stunt my idiot pulled, we probably have throngs of people watching our every move. I'm sure a few even taped it so they can try to win America's Funniest Videos. I squint and see far off kids splashing in the waves, people on the sand trying to develop a tan, and friends animatedly chatting together. No one is looking this way. They don't seem to have noticed or cared that Edward carried me caveman style into the waves, or that my butt was prominently displayed on his shoulder.
But I'm still upset. It's not fair that just because he's bigger and stronger, he can pull a trick on me like that. Well, if he wants to play at being sneaky, I can do it too. A plan rapidly brews within my brain.
I try to conceal the annoyance from my face. Casually, I take a step to close the space between us. I gaze at him with big, innocent eyes. My hand slowly slides up his chest and stops near his sternum.
"Edward..." I murmur as seductively as I can.
This stuns him immobile for around three seconds.
"Yes?" he responds, his voice dropping in timbre.
It's hard to suppress my triumphant smirk. I have successfully given him a false sense of security. He has no clue what's to come.
My finger pretends to be interested in only tracing the muscles of his pectoral area. "You know, Edward...you really shouldn't have done that," I say sweetly.
Before he can utter a sound, I push hard on the middle of his chest with all of my might. A good dunking in the ocean should be adequate payback for what he did.
But after giving two decent shoves, he remains upright. It's like trying to push down a tree. He won't budge an inch.
Bronze brows draw together curiously. "Are you trying to push me in?"
My hands flee and hide behind my back. "Uhh... No?"
He nods a couple of times. "Oh. OK. I didn't think you would do that - especially considering how you asked me only a minute ago to not throw you in the water and I did as you requested."
I am relieved that he has appeared to accept my lie...until I spot a giant grin creeping up his face. A second later, both of his arms shoot out like arrows and grab me by the waist. Then, he intentionally falls backwards into the water - taking me along with him.
I come up from the waves with dripping hair and eyes filled with vengeance. As I sling handfuls of water at him, all I hear is his laughter. He doesn't fight back in the one-sided water battle. He just stands there and takes it - which really lessens the sense of fairness out of it for me. And his playful smile isn't helping me either. It has a tendency to weaken my defenses and make me want to smile too. Just like it does now. My irritation washes away with the waves.
I'm only half-heartedly splashing him when he pulls me close again. This time he doesn't plunge us into the foamy seawater. Instead he tilts up my face and tastes my lips. We just had lunch a little while ago, yet it seems he is still hungry. Truthfully, I'm hungry too. I always am. My arms weave around his neck and I give as good as I get.
It gradually occurs to me that all those worries I had earlier no longer seem as important. I don't even care if the swimsuit I got stuck with wearing is more revealing than what I usually have on. Having Edward's hands gliding over all that newly exposed skin makes it worthwhile. And I can promise that in ten years time I won't remember my insecurities today. But I will remember everything else. Like the way he teased my mouth open just now and how there was a hint of sea salt on his tongue. And I could never forget how the sun reflected off his bronze hair when he murmured into my neck that he loved me.
Best. Spring. Break. Ever.
"Yoo-hoo! Hello? Bella!"
Still hanging on to Edward's neck, I stop kissing him and look towards the shoreline. Mom is waving an arm over her head like a crazy person. When she sees us staring in her direction, she cups her hands around her mouth to amplify her voice.
"Honey, I know you're having a good time, but are you two being safe?" she shouts at the top of her lungs. "Being in the water without protection is dangerous!"
All nine thousand beach goers in Jacksonville stop what they are doing to stare at us.
"Bella..." Edward drawls out, his eyes faintly concerned. "Is your mother insinuating that we are..."
I shake my head quickly. "No. Of course not."
A sobering thought hits me all at once. This is Renée Dwyer we're talking about. It might be that she's only worried about dangerous sun exposure. But it might also be that she's trying to give me the sex safety talk while in public. With Mom, anything is possible.
"I think she's worried that we don't have on enough sunscreen," I begin. I bury my face into Edward's shoulder to escape from the numerous eyes still on us. "At least I hope to god that's what she means."
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A/N- Happy belated Mother's Day, everyone!
Next Chapter- Bella gets a surprise for graduation. And Edward solves a mystery that has been haunting him for a while.
Thanks for reading. :-)