Walking into my house seemed like a dream. I couldn't think what to do. I was as though all concepts for what I should be doing, all habits and norms, just went out of my head, without protest. I mindlessly hung up my coat, slid off my shoes, paced sedately to the phone and grabbed it from its cradle, went upstairs, dropped my bag on my desk chair, set the phone on my night stand, and slumped onto my bed. I grabbed my pillow, hugging it to my chest, sort of curling about it, wrapping my legs about it too. There on my side, the most comfortable, quiet smile relaxed its way onto my face.
"Edward," I whispered. I could still smell him, his scent just lingering about me. He smelled like what Angels' should smell like, like everything I ever could have asked for. I didn't mind feeling swept away by him; this was the right kind of being swept away. He was amazing. He could see me and not only liked what he saw, he also believed that I was worth caring about. I knew he saw all the bad stuff too. And it wasn't even like he cared about me despite them. He just cared about me. The bad things weren't worth being concerned over. And I felt the same way. Sure, he was a vampire, but he might just be my vampire. What was this world we lived in where such things were even possible? How could I be so lucky?
I wasn't sure how long I laid there until the phone rang. I didn't even open my eyes and the smile didn't leave my lips as I answered, my words drawn out in a playful murmur, "Hi Jess."
"Finally," she said. "I called your house life thirty times! Why didn't you answer?!"
Her impatient tone was not enough to spoil my mood.
"I went to eat," I said. I didn't need to add "with Edward", she knew. Her vicarious sigh nearly the same as mine.
"Did he kiss you yet?" she asked, sounding impatient.
I shook my head, "No. I am not worried about it."
"What?" she blurted. "How can you not be worried about it?"
"Because," I said, "it really doesn't matter. I am already getting more than I deserve."
"You deserve kisses!" she said adamantly, and I could tell there was no more vicariousness in her.
"Well," I hedged, "yeah. Of course, we all do, but we aren't like, owed it, you know? It would be nice, but I am not simply guaranteed them. But what I am getting is so much more… more."
"What are you getting?" asked Jess, sounding thoughtful and curious.
I tried to think how to say it, since I couldn't exactly explain it directly.
"Relationships are hard for Edward," I said. "He believed for a long time that he would never be able to have one, that he didn't deserve one or to be happy."
"That's sad," said Jess, sounding a little too overbearing in her willingness to say so, but that was just her way.
"And wrong," I said, "but he has spent so much of his existence feeling that way, so it is sort of his default; alone and untrusting. Having any sort of serious relationship where he might be happy is hard for him."
She sighed, "One would think a little kissing might make it easier."
I smiled, "But, that's just it. It doesn't matter."
"What?" she asked, confused.
"No," I said, "I mean that it doesn't matter to him that it is hard. He is willing to be put out, and be inconvenienced and… uncomfortable, you know; out of his default. He's willing to do that, for me."
There was a moment of silence, which I think had to be a first for Jessica.
"I am good," I said. "I don't need kissing when I have that."
Then I thought about his lips.
"It would be nice," I said, the last word said with a bit of suggestion to it, "but I don't need it. He… he's worth it too."
Again, there was silence on the other end.
"Jess?" I asked, wondering if we got disconnected.
"I think I get it," she said, her voice a little brittle. "I sort of do and sort of don't, and I think that is the point."
"What?" I asked.
"I see it now," she said, "why he chose you, why he hasn't chosen anyone else before."
She meant why he hadn't chosen her.
"You do deserve it," she said, "deserve him."
I felt a little choked up.
"I think that is one of the nicest things anyone has said to me," I said, my own voice going a bit brittle.
"I'm so happy for you," she said. "I still want a gratuitous amount of details, if and when said kiss happens, but still. Happy for you."
I grinned, "And I will give you every last lascivious one."
I heard her huff through the phone.
"See," she said, "when I use big words, it's cute because I use words that everyone still knows!"
I laughed, "It means prurient."
"Now you're just making them up!" she said loudly.
"Salacious," I said, laughing.
She sighed heavily, so that I could hear.
"Libidinous," I said giggling.
"Now you are just making fun of me!" she said in mock anger.
"Orgiastic," I said.
"That one I got," she said. "It has an orgy in it."
I was giggling so hard, I almost fell out of bed. Our conversation devolved from there. I would have thought that we would talk about Mike, but Jess didn't seem to want to bring it up. I sort of got the impression that she didn't want to talk about it just then because she felt like she couldn't compete with Edward and I. That was perfectly alright with me. We caught up on gossip and I was sort of amazed that Lauren was still of the mind that Tyler was talking me to prom. I agreed with Jess that if she admitted being wrong, she would have to let go of this image of me juggling a bunch of guys with my harlot wiles, though she used different words. We both knew that Lauren would never do that unless she had no other choice. I admitted that I missed Angela and while I didn't admit to such, I decided that I was going to talk to Edward about the idea of sitting with my friends every once in a while.
Finally, dad got home, and I said bye to Jess and went downstairs.
"You haven't started dinner?" he asked as I walked into the kitchen.
"Hi to you too, dad," I said with just a touch of sarcasm.
"Right," he said. "Hi, Bella. How was school?"
"Good," I said. There was something in his tone, a sort of flatness. After a short pause he asked, "Are you going to make dinner or should I order a pizza?"
"I'll make dinner," I said, feeling dismayed. "Is everything alright?"
"Everything's good," he said, sounding like everything was definitely not good. "How are things with you?"
"Good," I said, pulling out chicken breast from the bottom shelf of the fig where I had set them to thaw the day before. If he wasn't going to tell me why he had a bug up his butt, I wasn't about to help him.
I made dinner, and Charlie didn't say a word. He ate in silence and I couldn't figure out what his problem was. Just as I was going up stairs after cleaning the dish, which he didn't protest and say he would do himself, I realized something; everyone knew that I was coming into town when I did, inexplicably. It was almost like they had a big town meeting and told everyone. Was it possible that the same thing had happened, only in reverse? Could he know about Edward, and be miffed that I hadn't told him? I didn't know, and I wasn't about to bring it up with him if I didn't have to. My plan was in place. I would tell him I was going to the dance after all on Friday, maybe Saturday. I would only bring up Edward if and when he asked if I had a date. Charlie was overprotective when I wasn't dating, even before I started dating a vampire.
I showered and dressed in comfortable pajama pants and an old T-shirt, realizing that I was getting comfortable here. I wasn't sure if I liked that or not. I did my homework, way later than I usually did, and I was just finishing up my books when motion caught my attention. I looked up and realized it was just my reflection in my bedroom window as I put my books away. I was staring at the window when something fitted itself back into my memory. Red eyes, eyes I knew now for certain belonged to Edward, looking back at me. I thought it had been a dream, but it was too real to be a dream. Now it very well could be real, was more than likely real. Not thinking about it, I went to the window and opened it. The night was cool and damp, but still nice and on the warmer side. I looked out into the night, wondering a long moment if he would simply appear out of the night before me.
"Edward?" I asked, almost hoping, but he didn't come. Pressing my lips to belie my disappointment, I closed the window, it sticking a bit before I went to bed.
I awoke the next morning, feeling refreshed and invigorated. I wished that I could see the front of my house from my window and could see if he was waiting for me already. I brushed my hair quickly, picked a button up blue blouse and a khaki skirt with white leggings. Without thinking about it, I tied my hair back and decided to wear my favorite pair of earrings, the first pair of small gold hoops my mom bought me for my first trip back to Forks with Charlie. I almost wished that I had a golden necklace that went with them. Maybe I might buy one if there was a spot in town that sold one that would match well. Maybe not.
I hurried, realizing that he was likely waiting for me now. I grabbed a banana and raced outside. I could tell he was there, and it took everything I had to turn around and lock the door before I turned and ran for the car. So hasty was I that I forgot entirely who I was and what befell me when I did such things as simply walking outside when it was damp. To my surprise, instead of launching myself face first into the soft grass and sliding on my face, I was caught up in his arms just before I heard his door slam. I was lifted entirely off the ground, my bag sliding off my shoulder, as he held me in the traditional carry that adorns a majority of romance novels.
"Hi," I said, equal parts thrilled and mortified. To my surprise, he didn't reply. He closed his eyes and became very still.
"Edward," I asked.
"A moment," he said, and his voice was very flat and slightly strained.
I shut up. After nearly a minute, I tried again.
"Are you alright?" I asked.
"I am more concerned about you at the moment," he said, and there was something about the timber of his voice, something familiar. I remembered it, from Tuesday night.
"What is it?" I asked calmly.
"I…" he said, his voice sounding strained again, "I am having trouble putting you down."
I thought about that, "You don't want to?"
"I…" he said, "I can't. I… I want to…"
I took a long slow breath. This was bad. Well, it wasn't too bad. Really bad might be if my skin was broken. This… I realized I could manage this.
"You can put me down," I said.
"I… can't…" he said, his words barely a whisper, almost a plea.
"Sure you can," I said, my voice not quite matter of fact. "You know how I know this?"
He was quiet for a moment, "How?"
He reached up, steadily, not suddenly, and touched the side of his jaw. Carefully, I turned his face towards mine. His eyes opened and he looked at me. I looked back, unafraid, and smiled.
"If you couldn't put me down," I said, "then you wouldn't have told me. You would have just had at me."
His eyes went flat a moment at my words, and I got the impression that he was thinking pretty seriously and graphically about actually tasting my blood. But then, I felt something ease in him, his shoulders dropping minutely but noticeable. Life seemed to flow back into his eyes.
"Thank you," he said. He tilted and put my feet on the ground, but, to my confusion and my satisfaction, he didn't let me go. He looked upward, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out, then returned his eyes to me. His hands were on my waist, and he was holding me to him, in a way that still gave us both plenty of space, but still so close that we were knocking knees and had to make room for each other's feet. I found that I quite liked it.
"Do you find this degree of liberty acceptable?" he asked. It took me a moment to realize exactly what he meant, and I nodded, trying not to add that he could touch me as much as he wanted. It took me a moment to get my own fantasies under control and I think he was more amused than annoyed by my human weakness.
"Sorry," I said, trying to actually feel sorry and coming up short.
"Please," he said, his smile finding its way all the way across his face and into his eyes. "After my rudeness, it is quite alright."
"Still," I said, "I shouldn't make this-"
He put his finger to my lips. It was very nearly the best way anyone had ever gotten me to stop talking.
"No self recriminations," he said. "What is done is done. There is no reason to worry about it. If you think you can or should do better next time, worry about that next time."
He took his finger away. For some reason, it made me want to pout.
"Okay," I said, almost smiling despite wishing he would touch my lips again… and I did a better job of keeping the fantasies from running a muck. Mostly…
He led me around to my door.
"What happened, anyway?" I asked.
"When?" he asked.
"How did you get out of the car so fast?" I asked.
"Oh," he said, smiling. "I was getting out anyway, to open your door for you. When you started to fall, I thought more for catching you than I did for preparing myself for being that close to you. I erred."
I thought about that as I took my seat and waited for him to find his.
"Okay," I said.
He looked at me as he started the car, "Okay?"
"I acknowledge that you made a mistake," I said.
"Meaning?" he asked as he pulled out.
"Meaning that I am not going to try to make excuses for you and belittle the fact that you are taking responsibility for said mistake," I explained. "I am just saying okay so you know I heard you and so we can move on."
I looked pointedly at him and he just looked back at me.
"No self recriminations," I practically commanded.
He laughed, "Yes, m'lady."
"Oh, don't do that," I complained.
"Why?" he asked, suddenly intrigued.
"Because," I said, "I am no lady, and…"
"Of course you are," he said. "And…"
I tried not to smile, "I might like it too much."
"Too much? Why?" he asked again, and he looked more present, more delighted than he had when he was listening to music.
I shook my head, but still answered, "I have a bit of a fancy for period pieces, especially Jane Austen. But reading the books and seeing the better movies, as much as I wish that I could call myself a lady, I know I couldn't hold a candle to many of the best characters in the stories I love."
"In what way?" he asked.
I felt sort of strange talking so much, but I went on.
"Take Elizabeth Bennet," I said. "She is proud and stubborn, to be sure, but she is also honest and speaks her mind shamelessly and fearlessly, without even the slightest consideration of repercussions and the expectations of her station. I don't think I could ever be like her."
To my surprise, Edward started to laugh. A lot.
"What?" I asked, then again, in annoyance, "What?!"
I was beginning to be concerned about his ability to keep the car on the road, but it never wavered as we turned and approached the school. Finally he subsided.
"God forbid," he said, his eyes dancing and his smile barely allowing him to get the words out, "you should encounter a rich young man, one who is proud and convinced he knows what the world is and that he knows best, constantly making mistakes out of his own arrogance and ignorance."
My mouth fell open.
"And let us say," he went on, "perhaps that rather than being cowed by his appearance and the regard everyone else around him gives to him, that you refuse to be treated poorly and fearlessly insist on honesty and constantly throw truth in his face with no regard for how it will shift the foundations of his world, until he has no choice but to be enamored by you."
I swallow, hoping that my mouth will remain closed after the fact. It doesn't.
"Then let us say," he went on, "that you prove the bravest creature he has ever known, insisting that it is possible to choose happiness and righteousness above all things, that good exists in everyone, no matter the state of their soul, and are so convinced of this that you are willing to risk your life to prove it."
My breath was ragged with emotion.
"How could I not call you a lady," he continued, "especially now that I know how you regard the term? Far be it from me to try and convince you that you are one. Your actions speak for themselves. If ever there were a person more worthy of the term, I know of them not."
Now it was trying to swallow back tears.
I didn't remember us parking, but as soon as someone passed the door, I realized where we were and that made it all too easy to get myself under control.
"I…" trying to sort out what to say.
"Thank you," I said, sliding my hand into his proffered one.
"The pleasure is mine," he said. "Shall we?"
We stepped out of the car, and immediately, I shivered.
"Where is your coat?" he asked, sounding concerned.
I turned to the car, then in the direction of my house.
"Oh," I said. "I guess…"
I felt rather sheepish.
"You forgot your coat?" he asked, his tone and expression questioning either my sanity or where I actually was, in fact, Bella.
"Sort of," I said mousily. "I guess I was focused on getting out the door."
He sighed, but smiled as he slipped the wool coat from his shoulders.
"No," I protested. "Then you'll be…"
He gave me an almost amused look, and I shut up, going a bit pink, which just made him laugh even more. I dropped my bag from my shoulders and found that it didn't touch the ground. He slid it onto one of his and then went back to holding open the coat. I slid my arms into each sleeve in turn. It was large on me, but no larger than my own coat. It was actually warm, which I realized he had done for me in the moments before taking it off. And, the best part, it was absolutely permeated with his delicious scent.
He shook his head, and something about his expression made me wonder.
"What is it?" I asked.
He smiled, "My sister. She picked out the coat."
I looked confused.
"Alice enjoys feeling smug," he said.
I sort of understood, sort of, but when I opened my mouth to ask, he shook his head.
"Not a chance," he said, and I looked confused.
He smiled, as though the world was his and all bad things had gone out of it.
"Today is my day," he said.
It really was his day. He walked me to every class, appearing outside after it was done to walk me to the next. He asked me every question I knew that he had been dying to ask me, maybe since I had first come here. I answered more questions between classes than were asked within them in total.
He asked all sorts of things. He asked me about my life back in Phoenix, about the few crushes that I did have and why I hadn't pursued them. He asked about my favorite pastimes and why I didn't have more. He asked about schools that I might like to go to for college, places that I would like to visit, activities that I might like to do if I had the time and money. He asked about friends, ones that I have now and had back in Phoenix. He asked about my mother, Charlie, and Phil, and my feelings about them. He asked about books I had read and the fewer movies I had watched and music I listened to, my thoughts on all of it. He asked me the most benign questions, about my preferences for food and colors and even articles of clothing or the contents of my drawers in my desk at home. That reminded me of my question, but when I tried to get it out at lunch, he flatly refused, and I decided to ask him about his appearance at my window at the end of the day.
And so it went, every detail of my life exposed and prodded, even things I felt so completely unimportant. And, should I give even the slightest hint that there was more to my response, a blush or a longer than average pause, a rise of the brow, a snort of laughter, a frown, a smile, a blink, anything, it would cause an entire new line of questioning, most of which I had to do as much rooting around in my head to find the answer as he was doing. I practically felt like an observer in my own life by the time we were walking out of the building towards the Volvo.
"How can you still have questions for me?" I asked after finishing telling him that I usually only got the cheapest white socks in a pack of six and never had any interest in novelty variety.
He opened his mouth and I snapped, mostly joking, "And don't you dare say that it is because I am interesting!"
He simply grinned.
"Bella," he said, placing his free hand on top of mine resting on his other arm. "I don't think my thirst for you in this regard could ever be truly sated."
I smiled, "Well, you have questioned me just this side of death and all…"
His grin took on a slightly worried tinge, "Have I been so horrible?"
"No," I finally admitted. "I'm just not used to being so…"
"Considered?" he asked.
"Sort of," I agreed. "But also, I feel sort of naked. Exposed."
"And that's my cue," said Jessica, stepping up beside us and taking my other arm.
"Good afternoon, Jessica," said Edward, his charming polite self. I was pleased my steps didn't waver at all. Jess was smart enough to look away this time.
"Good afternoon, Edward," she said in a nearly mocking imitation of his tone. "Can I borrow our girl for a moment?"
"Would that I could claim her, I still would not," he said sincerely. "She is wholly her own self and I prefer her as such."
Jessica looked confused and slightly impressed.
"Of course," he said with a smile.
He turned, stepping to just arms length from me. Crooking a finger, he tilted my face directly to his, looking me over with a deep, determined care, as though memorizing my face, as though having this moment and this one aspect of me to hold in his mind was everything he needed to be willing to step from my side. And step he did, heading for the car to go lean against it, looking more like a model than anyone should ever have a right to look.
It took me a moment to realize that Jess was just as lost in watching him as I was and hadn't even noticed that we had stood in silence for the better part of two minutes, just watching him as he cross the parking lot and posed himself, waiting for us to complete our business so I could return to him.
"Jess," I said to break her out of it.
"Oh!" she said. "Sorry! Why am I here again? Right!"
She looked down, then at me again, "Where did you get that coat?"
I just smiled and cast my eyes to him a moment.
"Right," she said. "Anyway, about Saturday…"
"Yes," I said.
"How are we going to do it?" she asked. "I mean, I will do your makeup at my place, but are you getting dressed there? Do you want me to come and get you and bring you back? What?"
I considered.
"I guess that I will come over to your place that afternoon," I said. "Edward can pick me up there, if you don't mind."
"But won't you have to come back for your truck?" she asked.
"Oh right," I said. "Well, don't worry about that. I will figure something out. What time should I come over?"
She considered.
"Are we going as a group?" she asked.
I thought about it, "I'm not sure how Mike would feel about that."
Her face fell a little, "He's a big boy. He can suck it up."
Something in her voice spoke of solidarity, as though she wasn't doing this to ogle Edward all night. She wanted to be there, with and for me. Without thinking about it, I hugged her.
"What was that for?" she asked.
"Because you're my friend and I sort of like you," I said with only the barest hint of sarcasm.
"This is like your first dance," she said. "On your first real date, where you get to get all dolled up. And you're going with this great guy and all. I don't want to miss that."
"And Mike?" I asked.
She smiled, "Mike will understand. Mostly because if he doesn't, I am going to put his nuts in a vice until he agrees."
"Jess!" I asked, blushing violently.
"Then, I am going to kiss in to within an inch of his life so he forgets all about that," she says. "The boy has put up with far less for the chance at a little play."
My blush continued and deepened, and I looked around to make sure we weren't overheard.
"Don't worry about getting me around," I finally said. "I will get myself too and from."
"Okay," she said. "Then we will get dinner before, if Edward doesn't mind."
"I don't think he will," I said, grinning.
"Alright," she said. "Then we'll have the boys head over to my place around, what, six?"
"That should work," I said.
"Cool," she said, "then come by before three."
I frowned, "It takes three hours to get ready?"
She nodded, confused, "At least. Why?"
I shook my head, "I don't know. I have never gotten all dolled up, I guess."
She grinned, "I can't wait. You are going to look amazing. Edward will be doing backflips!"
I smiled, "I'm sure that will be quite the sight to see."
She laughed, and squeezed my arm, "See you tomorrow, Just Bella."
I returned to Edward. He looked patient, if you didn't know him. He was still, mostly, but it was a stiff sort of motionlessness, as though it was all he could do not to walk towards me, even though he would just have to be walking back, just to be nearer to me sooner. At last I came up to him, and stood before him, my face directed towards his without his need to position me this time. He looked upon my face, and watched as all the agitation melted off his face and away. I sort of melted with it.
"Did you miss me?" I asked, only half seriously.
"Beyond words," he said. "I always miss you when you are gone, but I am used to not getting my way and the thought of our reunion is enough to keep me going in my time without you, so that I am not an entirely useless retch."
I couldn't tell how serious his words were. His smile afterwards didn't do much to convince me.
"Did you hear?" I asked.
His smile became a full blown grin. My sight dimmed at the edges.
"I am not sure which I prefer," he said, "you forgetting what I am or you knowing me so well that you understand me completely, even the otherworldly aspects of my nature."
"That's a yes?" I asked.
He nodded as he turned and opened my door for me.
"I believe that Mike will be rather put out with us for joining him on his date with Jessica," he said. "I am quite happy to oblige him."
I stopped halfway before sliding into the car, "Huh?"
He only smiled and waited for me to be all the way in before closing my door and going to his.
"I had nearly five full weeks of that infuriating boy making much of you," he said, "able to ask you questions at will while I could not. While I was trying to do the right thing, to stay away from you for your own safety, he was witlessly pursuing you with all his impotent impudence while I could do nothing but will myself not to backhand him across the room. I swear, that boy has died more deaths in my fantasies in the last months than breathes taken."
My mouth fell open, appalled.
He smiled grimly, "I told you, I am a monster."
I closed my mouth and shook my head, "No. I mean, yes, that is monstrous, but no. You were jealous of Mike?"
His mouth fell open. I didn't think I had ever seen him do that. Then, he laughed.
"I was, wasn't I?" he chortled. "For the love of all that is holy, I was jealous of him. How is it that you bring out so many of these emotions in me, these feelings that I have for so long thought were largely human?"
I smiled, "Because you are."
He smiled, "I think that is one of the nicest things anyone has said to me."
Something about that tickled in the back of my mind, and for some reason made me think of him at the window again.
"Were you at my window?" I asked.
Edward looked slightly unsure.
"Which window?" he asked.
I swallowed, suddenly unsure if I wanted to know the answer or not, "My bedroom window."
"When?" he asked.
I looked at him, closely.
"'When'?" I asked. "That's nice."
"I'm sorry?" he asked, looking unsure.
I rolled my eyes, "The only reason I would need to specify a time was if you were there on multiple occasions and aren't willing to admit to all of them. Have you ever been at my bedroom window?"
He sighed, "Yes."
Again, I swallowed, "More than once?"
He closed his eyes, "Yes."
I considered what my next question should be.
"Why?" I asked.
He took a deep breath.
"The first time," he said, sounding reluctant, "I was… I was there to see you, one last time."
"What!?" shot out of my mouth before I could think it over. His head whipped around, as though someone had grabbed his jaw and yanked it. I tried to relax, to regulate my breathing.
"You were going to leave?" I asked, a reproachful quiver in my voice.
"Yes," he said. "It was my intention to leave, before I got there."
"Why?" I asked.
"Because," he said, "staying was painful."
"Painful?" I asked, confused.
He looked as though he were going to sigh again, but then thought against it. Then he breathed carefully.
"That helps," he said.
"What helps?" I asked, even more confused.
"You… you're worrying about me," he said. "When you are more concerned with me than yourself, you smell different. Still good, but you don't smell… like… sustenance."
I considered what he was saying. Without thinking, I took his hand.
"Why was it painful?" I asked.
For a moment, he looked as though he was enduring unbelievable pain, like the time I was in the hospital in Phoenix for a possible concussion and a boy came in next to me with a compound fracture. He looked away and went still in that way that makes me wonder if he is even alive. When he spoke again, his words were quick, spilling out his lips, the only part of him that moved.
"I was rather amused, at first," said Edward, his words seeming to flutter as they passed, "watching you as all these boys came to you, wanting you in the way all selfish children want things when they are only thinking of themselves. I thought it funny, mostly because their dismay at being rejected by you brought me comfort. For all the time Mike had spent fantasizing about you, the timber of his thoughts upon you shooting him down was worth all the jealousy that I endured. With the other two, I simply felt relieved that you said no, for I too was selfish. If I could not have you, though I was not willing to be so frank with my desires, even to myself at the time, I didn't want any other to have you. I was happy that you said no to them. They didn't really care about you and didn't have your interests at heart at all. But as I thought about it, a new scenario played itself out. What if, one day, one did come along, the one who did care for you, who did take your interests to heart, the one who was good and deserving of your affections, the one who you would say yes too, who could stand with you in the sun, who was not this craven thing, this husk of a human, this soulless thing that I am."
I was about to interrupt, but his words were too quick, his manner too enthralling.
"I couldn't stand it," he said. "I can admit freely now that I was too selfish to consider you at that moment. Had I watched you find such a person, all I could have seen was you be with someone who could give you everything that I wished I could give you. I did not care for the fact that you might be happy. And that only convinced me further that being a part of your life was not right for me. So, I made the decision to leave you, to say my goodbyes. My fictional brother would die, and I would go to the funeral and afterwards would travel, seeking to do some soul searching, as some rich young men do under such conditions. And yet, I didn't think I had it in me to simply disappear, not without seeing you one last time. I didn't want to wait, fearing that if I did, I would lose my nerve. So, like the dastardly creature of the night that I am, I visited you, while you slept, without your permission."
He finally looked at me, sorrow and regret in his eyes.
"I had intended to tell you this," he said. "On Saturday. Some time during the course of the evening, I would have told you all of this and more. It is but a part of a larger story. Frankly, I found the idea of confession to you that night rather appealing, if a bit dramatic."
I couldn't help it.
"What's the rest of the story?" I asked.
He pressed his lips, "Would you be willing to trust me, Bella? I would tell you it all, but I want to do so then. It has a touch of the… romantic to it, which I find so very tempting. May I save the tale for Saturday, so that I may tell it to you in full?"
It was my turn to sigh. When he put it like that, I couldn't rightly say no. I wasn't exactly mad at him anymore.
"Okay," I said. "Just… maybe… don't visit me without my consent again."
He nodded, "Of course."
He suddenly smiled, and something about that smile I didn't trust.
"May I visit you at night?" he asked.
I froze.
"Why?" I asked.
He grinned, "I like being near you when you sleep."
"Why would-" I froze again, my eyes bugging wide.
"You didn't!" I said, aghast.
"I didn't what?" he asked.
I talk in my sleep. A lot. My mother thinks it's hilarious. I think it is embarrassing.
"Tell me!" I almost cried. "No! Don't tell me. Alright, what did I say?"
He smiled, and it was so beautiful, I felt like my heart was being put in a vice.
"You said a lot of things," he said.
"No!" I cried, hiding my face.
"Bella," he said, taking my hands from my face. His eyes met mine, and they were kindly.
"I know," he said. "I would have known even if I hadn't visited, even if I didn't know you say my name in your sleep quite regularly. That isn't what I learned that first night."
"What did you learn?" I asked, unable to help myself.
"You asked me to stay," he said. "I was going to leave, and you asked me to stay. At first I thought you were having a nightmare about me, but then you said to stay, for me not to go. But even without that, I know you dream of me."
I raised an eyebrow at him, "Oh?"
He settled back in his seat and said in a staggeringly good impression of me, the voice nearly identical, "Believe it or not, but my every dream isn't about you."
Once the words were out of his mouth, I slapped a hand over my open one.
"Oops," I said, and gave a nervous giggle.
He sighed, "I don't dream."
I looked over at him. He sounded almost sad about it.
"Sleep might be too shallow for us," he said. "Or it may be that we lack something that you do not, some vital part of yourself that we just don't have. But we don't really lose ourselves in sleep. We are not unaware, as you are. And we do not dream."
He looked at me, his eyes heartfelt and kind.
"Would that I could dream, I would of you," he said.
The vice was back. As was that thing, that moment when I wanted to do something, but I couldn't figure out what it was. It wasn't kissing him. I just didn't understand.
"What is it?" he asked.
I suddenly felt like a deer in the headlights.
"What's what?" I squeaked, and he could but smile.
"You are so very charming," he said.
I snorted, "You and I use that word very differently."
He smiled and began driving.
"You never did answer my question," he said.
"Which one?" I asked.
He smiled, "Do I have your permission to come visit you in the night?"
I shook my head noncommittally.
"Is that a no?" he asked.
"Maybe?" I said more than asked. "I don't…"
I sighed, "I am not sure if I trust you."
He took a moment of silence to digest that.
"Okay," he said.
I whipped around to look at him, "Okay?"
He smiled, "You don't have to trust me, Bella. I have done much that would warrant you not trusting me. And I do not say this so that you will, I say this because it is true. You get to say no. You get to say what is true, even if I might not like it. You are allowed to be imperfect."
I couldn't help but tease him.
"You don't think I'm perfect?" I said, sounding hurt.
He turned, looking truly horrified for a moment, until he saw my face and my poorly concealed smile, he tried to look disgusted and failed.
"You are not amusing," he said, his lips twitching towards a smile.
"I am very funny," I said, deadpan.
He smiled, "I will not visit you again, not until you are ready."
I thought about it, "Why do you want to visit me?"
He smiled, "At first, I liked listening to you. It was a way for me to have something, anything, listening to you. I hope that I might unlock whatever hidden secrets lie within your mind, since I could rightly ask you about them. Now, I don't need to do that because I can just ask you. Say, which is your preferred peanut butter?"
I laughed, "I like crunchy, but only occasionally. Mostly I like smooth, usually organic."
He grinned at me, "See? Now, I just…"
He pulled up at the house, "I just like feeling near to you. I… I don't ever enjoy being without you. I simply exist, eating up time for when I can see you again."
That was when I knew. I wasn't mad. I didn't like that he had come to my house without my permission and that he had done so on multiple occasions, but he was being honest about it and the only reason he hadn't told me sooner was for the romance of it. I couldn't hold that against him, even if I had wanted to. I was actually sort of flattered that I meant so much to him. But then I really thought about what he was saying.
"I can't be the most important thing in your life," I said.
He looked at me, "Meaning?"
I shook my head.
"I don't want to be that important," I said. "It's not that I don't think I deserve it. I really… I just don't want that responsibility, you know? I don't want to be the one think in your life that brings you joy, the thing that you are living for."
I sighed, "Edward…"
I took his hand.
"I want this to work," I said. "I want this to work more than anything I have ever wanted so far in my life. But, it might not. I mean, kids who get together at our age don't always stay together."
He squeezed my hand, "Like your parents."
I tried not to grimace.
"I don't want to be the one who ends up taking away your reason for happiness," I said, "if it comes to that."
He looked at me, and for a moment, I got the butterflies-in-my-stomach feeling that he might kiss me. He didn't. Instead, he pulled my hand to him and placed his forehead upon its back.
"Bella," he said. "I…"
He seemed to stop himself and smile.
"I expect nothing from you," he said. "Should this end, should you ever decide that you no longer wish me at your side, I will gladly leave, especially knowing that you will never do so because of what I am."
I was about to say that I never would, but then I realized I only wanted to want him to never leave. We both knew, there was a line he couldn't cross, and I would not insult him by bringing it up again needlessly.
"It will only be because of my actions, not my being," he said, "and I can very much respect that."
"I don't want that," I agreed. "But, should it be necessary, I will."
He bowed his head, "I don't want it to be a necessity, but I will go if you ask."
He still had my hand, and I brought it back, still holding his, turning our hands to bring the back of his to bare, resting my head upon his as he had mine.
"Saturday," I said.
He nodded, somehow understanding.
"I will leave the window unlocked," I said and he looked shocked.
"You…" he started and stopped, "you would invite me in?"
"Yes," I said. "Saturday, after the dance, if you would like…"
Something seemed to hang in the air between us, almost like there was a cord between us that someone had just pulled a bow across, leaving it singing. So, naturally, that was when everything came crashing down.
Edward's head came up and I couldn't be sure, but I thought I heard him swear.
"That is all I need," he said.
"What?" I asked, looking for the cruiser to pull up.
"A complication," he said. "I have to go."
"What?" I cried. "Why?"
"Please, Bella," he said. "I shouldn't be here."
"Alright," I said, collecting my bag and reluctantly taking off his coat.
"I will be here tomorrow morning," he said before I could ask.
I got out. He pulled out and only then, as his car moved between us in passing, did I notice the car that had pulled up across the street, old, maroon, and unfamiliar. The people in it were not.
I waited patiently as Jacob opened the back and pulled out his father's wheelchair. He flipped it open expertly, a rather impressive display. Skinny as he was, he had no problem lifting his father from the passenger seat as suddenly the cruiser rounded the corner. What was dad doing home so early?
I stepped aside so he had somewhere to park as Jake walked up beside his dad, who was pushing his wheels around himself.
"Hey, guys," I said smiling, something about this familiar, though I had no memory of it.
"Hey, Bella," said Billy. "You got big."
Jacob laughed, though he tried to hide it behind a smile.
"Relatively speaking," I said, giving him a pointed look. " I'm just glad I'm not some spindly beanstalk at least."
"Oh!" said Jake in mock distress. "It hurts! So painful!"
"Shut up!" I complained, smiling in spite of myself.
Charlie walked up, "Am I going to have to pretend I didn't know you were driving, Jake?"
Jacob put on the most unconvincing innocent face I had ever seen. It was hard not to laugh.
"How do you know I was driving?" he asked.
Charlie sighed, "I suppose your father was driving from the passenger seat? In a car I know for a fact isn't retrofitted so he can drive it?"
Jacob turned the innocent look on full, which only made him look comically scared.
"We get our licenses early on the res?" he asked, in a tone that was obvious they both knew he was lying and that Charlie would do nothing about it.
He sighed, "I'm off duty…"
Jacob beamed, "Thank you, sir."
"Are you staying for dinner?" I asked.
Billy looked a little sheepish, "We wouldn't want to impose…"
"It's alright with me," I said. The current Black family didn't look altogether happy about this.
Charlie sighed again, "She would be doing the cooking."
"Oh!" said Jacob as they both relaxed. "Then that fine then."
I unlocked the door as Jake and Charlie lifted the chair and Billy as one and stepped him up the porch, like they had been doing it all my life.
"Game tonight?" asked Billy.
"Yeah," said Charlie and immediately lost me as he started talking about things which I had no reference to. I went immediately to the kitchen. Jacob followed. I was pulling out stuff for a vegetarian meatloaf and a medium amount of mashed potatoes when I noticed the look Jake was giving me.
"What?" I asked, feeling a bit uneasy.
He gave a sort of exhale laugh thing.
"So the game goes on," he said, "and you escape to the kitchen. You're like a walking cliché, you know that, right?"
My mouth fell open.
"Do you really want to piss off the person making your dinner?" I asked.
He smirked, "What are you going to do?"
"Not give you mash potatoes," I said.
He actually came up short. To my shock, he actually got down on his knees, making him almost my height exactly.
"My deepest apologies," he said, so sincerely, I wasn't sure if he was still joking or not.
"Oh get up!" I said, trying not to smile.
He moved to the counter, hopping upon it. It actually made him shorter. I felt like a dwarf.
"So," he said, "what's wrong with the truck?"
I looked quizzically at him, "Nothing. Why?"
"You weren't driving it," he said. "That is usually why you don't drive it."
I looked away.
"I had a ride," I said, sure my voice sounded flat.
"Nice ride," he said, and there was something about his voice.
I looked at him, seeing something like longing on his face before it was quickly hidden.
"You like cars?" I more reaffirmed than asked.
"Yeah," he said quickly, almost like he was changing the subject. "I am putting together a Volkswagen Rabbit."
I bit my lip as I began dicing vegetables, "Is that a good car?"
He smiled, "Yep. Great car, one of the best, just a step down from a Porsche. Way better than some old Volvo."
I gave him a look, "So, you think that is enough to get a girl? Have a fancy car?"
He looked at me, his surprise giving way to seriousness, "I don't know. Is it?"
I rolled my eyes, "Of course not."
"Really," he said, interested. "So, what does it take?"
I looked over at him, "Really?"
"What?" he asked.
I huffed, "I am not going to play that game with you."
"What game?" he said.
He looked directly at him, "The one where I give you a list of requirements to date me and then you either think I am being unreasonable or try to fulfill them in an effort to force me to a date with you. It's trite and pointless, seeing as I already have a-"
I came up short. I wasn't thinking. Charlie might be listening. Then I noticed Jacob isn't looking at my face, and I realized I have been gesturing rather emphatically with a knife in my hand.
"Sorry," I said, putting it down.
"A what?" he asked, leaning in and quieting down.
I glanced at the living room.
"Nothing," I said, "never mind."
"Oh come on, Bella," he said imploringly. "I can keep a secret."
My eyes meet his. They are warm and dark, entirely different from Edwards black pools, but nice and sort of comforting.
"A boyfriend," I whispered.
He straightened, "Already?"
I gave him a hurt look.
"No," he said, "I didn't mean it like that. I just mean…"
He sort of looked down, "I guess I was disappointed. That's all. I…"
He looked at me, "I thought I might have more time."
"To?" I asked, going back to cutting up an onion.
"Ask you out myself," he said.
The blade sliced neatly into my finger.
"Ow!" I cried, hearing something clatter against the back door.
"Bella?" called Charlie, but I was looking outside. I couldn't see anything. I look down and see my finger covered in blood.
"Darn it," I said, rinsing my finger. It wasn't deep. Butterfly band aids would do for it.
"'Darn it'?" asked Jacob. "Really?"
"Shut up!" I said, getting paper towels to stem the bleeding while I began digging around for the first aid box. It wasn't like this was the first time I had cut myself while I was here.
"Bella?" Charlie said again, this time from the door.
"I'm fine, Dad," I said, as always.
He didn't even bother looking concerned anymore, walking back to the living room.
"That was entirely your fault," I said. He shook his head.
"Sure, sure," he said, "because I was holding the knife."
"You shouldn't distract people when they are doing dangerous things!" I complained. He just smirked again.
"You are really okay, though, right?" he asked, looking sheepish, finally.
"Yeah," I said. "If I'm in jeopardy of going to the emergency room, it's just means its another day that ends in 'y'."
He looked at me with an expression of serious concern.
"Really?" he asked. "You get hurt that often?"
I gave a delicate snort, more of a forceful exhale through the nose.
"I'm exaggerating," I said. "But if you look up the word klutz in the dictionary-"
"There will be a picture of you?" he asked.
I grinned, "No, just a very apt description."
He waved the joke away with a mock groan.
"So," he asked, "why don't you want your dad to know?"
I didn't need to ask him what he was referring to.
"Please," I said, "if you had a girlfriend, would-"
I stopped.
"Never mind," I said quickly.
He smiled, if a bit sadly.
"Yeah," he said. "I would. But granted, I would like to tell her just about anything and everything. It's okay; I can talk about her."
I looked at him sideways, "How the heck did you do that?"
He barked a laugh, "Really, we are going to have to talk about your language problem at some point."
"No, really," I said. "How did you do that?"
He shrugged, "Do what? It was obvious what you were going to say. It was practically stamped across your forehead."
I went pink and went back to cooking.
"What?" he asked, looking concerned.
"Nothing," I said, "it's just… I'm not used to people being able to read my like that. Usually, only my mom does that."
He grinned, "I've got your number, Swan girl. You can never lie to me now."
I tsked, "Want a bet?"
He considered shrewdly.
"Two truths and a lie?" he asked.
"What's that?" I asked.
He looked like I had just started speaking in tongues.
"It's a game," he said.
"How do you play?" I asked.
Now, he was looking at me like I was purposefully being difficult.
Then I smiled.
He looked shocked, then grinned too, "Okay, you're good. I'll give you that."
"I'm awesome," I said.
"Does your boyfriend think so?" he asked, his tone more inquisitive than disapproving.
It took effort not to slap my hand over his mouth.
"Will you slap your yap!?" I said in a hushed whisper.
"They can't hear us," he said. "The game started already."
I shook my head, "Okay, whatever."
"Does he?" he asked.
I felt a slightly sappy look cross my face, and I nodded.
"Yeah," I said, "he kinda does."
Jacob looked… not quite disappointed. More like, he missed out on something he really wanted, but didn't really care if he didn't get. It was weird. It didn't feel anything like when Mike or Eric showed any interest. It was… I didn't know.
"How about this," he said. "If he ever turns into the world's biggest idiot and dumps you, or he turns into the world's biggest idiot and you dump him, I'll take you out. My treat. And by my treat and I'll take you out, I mean we can pig out on junk food at my place. I guarantee subpar movies and warm generic soda. Who can resist that?"
I laughed, despite myself.
"I don't see that happening," I said.
"Okay," he said, "nearly adequate movies and room temperature soda, but that is the best I can do."
I shook my head, "No, I mean, I don't see us breaking up."
He looked skeptical, "What? Are you going to marry the guy, is that it?"
I looked suddenly stricken.
"Oh, god no!" I said, and something about my tone made him grin.
I went back to mixing.
"I just mean," I clarified, "I am not diving into anything. Marriage is like the furthest thing from my mind."
He looked approving.
"Good," he said. "It is a good idea to play the field. Who knows? You might find you like someone else."
It was my turn to look skeptical.
"Oh come on," he said. "You can't have known this guy very well. How long have you been dating?"
I thought about it. The answer didn't make any sense for a moment. It felt like it had been longer.
"Officially, since yesterday, I guess," I said.
He seemed to jump at that, "See! That is nothing. How long have you known me?"
I thought about that. Yeah, I really had known Jacob most of my life, if not well. It was undeniable, I felt comfortable with him, far more than any of the normal boys from school. We could easily be good friends. He was nice.
Then, something fitted itself into my head. Edward, smiling, but sad, seeing Jacob standing beside me. Jacob, putting a hand to my back, not in possession, but in comfort, in support. And Edward, knowing that I would be happy with him, not wanting to get in the way, turning and disappearing into shadow-
THUNK!
"Ow!" I said, grabbing my knee.
"What happened!?" cried Jacob.
"Ow!" I said, again, clutching my knee and nearly falling.
"What happened?!" cried Dad, Billy just behind him.
"Oh, ow," I said, limping to the freezer and pulling out a tray of ice cubes.
"What?" asked Dad again.
"Nothing," I said, "No, it's nothing. I… I had a muscle cramp and it surprised me and I jumped and knocked my knee into the cabinet door."
There was no way I was going to say that I started trying to run after Edward in my head before I could stop myself and slammed my knee.
The adults left, and Jacob shook his head.
"You're such a bad liar," he said, picking up one of the potatoes and started peeling it.
I put the cubes in a towel and thumped it a few times on the counter to break up the pieces, then iced my knee.
"Yeah, well," I said, feeling a little disgruntled, "you are no peach yourself."
He laughed, "I'm not a what now?"
I quieted my voice, "A nice guy wouldn't move in on someone else's girlfriend."
He looked at me sideways, finishing up the potato and moving to the next.
"First of all," he said, "You are way more than just some guy's girlfriend, so don't even act like you're not. Second, I'm not moving in on anyone; I said true things and reminded you that when the inevitable break up comes-"
"Inevitable!" I shot back, then shushed myself.
"Yeah," he said. "Inevitable. If you aren't going to marry the guy, what else were you planning on doing?"
He brought up a very interesting point that I hadn't considered. What would a future with Edward be like? Did vampires get married? What would happen if we did? He would never age, but I would. What would I be willing to give up to stay with him? Would he accept that?
"I never said I wouldn't marry him," I said. "I just meant, I hadn't thought about it and I wasn't planning on thinking about it any time soon."
"Whatever," said Jacob. "When the possible and still more than likely breakup comes, you still have people who care about you, who are happy that you exist and are here for you. Your life isn't over just because a relationship fails."
I took a deep breath, and laughed in his face.
"I know that!" I expounded. "Jeez, you think I am some flighty thing who dives headlong into something, losing herself completely. Dream on!"
He bowed his head, and held up a hand.
"Okay," he said. "Yeah, that was a little insulting. It is just a trend that I have noticed with a lot of the girls I have seen who have broken up with their boyfriends on the res. Should have known that wouldn't apply to you."
My brow furrowed, "Why should you have known?"
He finished the second potato and moved on to the next.
"Because," he said, "you aren't like other girls."
I bobbed my head at that, "Tell me about it."
Apparently, he thought I meant that literally.
"You aren't all obsessed with looks," he said, "and I bet more than a few girls hate you because you really don't, not just say you don't, and still look really good."
Suddenly, a big neon sign in my head started blinking "Lauren!" over and over again.
"You are like one of the most social nonsocial people I know," he said, "which tells me that you don't need friends the way most people do, to fit in and be accepted and part of the crowd. You do it if and when it makes you happy and for the benefit of your friends, not just you."
I thought about the beach trip. I hadn't gone to impress anyone. I had gone because I wanted to go. I had supported Jess and even talked some with Mike once I knew that I wasn't stepping on Jess' proverbial toes, because it made him happier.
"You are wise beyond your years," he said, "but still totally accessible and imperfect the way a person should be. You are a mess, but still have your life together in all the ways that matter."
I didn't think I had ever heard a more apt description of me in my life.
"You believe in justice and equality," he said, "even when it is hard. And you have always had a good heart."
He wasn't looking at me. He was peeling potatoes. It didn't matter to him what his words were doing to me, what my reaction was; he was, again, just telling me the truth. I felt my throat catch a little. So, naturally, I walked up and touched his arm with the wet, cold towel full of ice.
He said something that might have been a swear word, but I wasn't sure it was in English. He jerked away, and since he wasn't me, he wasn't bleeding because he had a knife in his hand or anything. He looked at me with disbelief, until he saw me smiling and laughed too.
"I'm going to get you back for that," he said.
I smiled, "You do that."
We got dinner cooked and on the table without much fuss after that. We chatted about school and our social circles. I wondered if I would be meeting his friends Quil and Embry any time soon. I was plating food when the dads decided to join us. Jacob asked how the game was going and more sport speak was bandied about. I sat and ate, feeling a bit left out until Jacob commented that the food was good, and the other two sang my praises, but in a way that I could tell they noticed I was being left out of the conversation and wanted to include me and not necessarily because they thought the food was any good.
"So, Bella," said Billy, "any plans this weekend?"
I almost didn't catch the quick reproachful look Charlie gave him.
"I am planning to go to Seattle," I said, keeping up the falsehood.
Billy considered.
"I heard something about a dance this Saturday," he said. "Why don't you go? I'm sure Jacob would love-"
"-would love it if you minded your own business, old man," Jacob said with no undue exasperation.
Smiling, I shook my head, "I don't really dance. Public displays of mortification aren't high on my to-do list."
Jacob smiled, "Dances are fun, and contrary to their name, aren't about the dancing."
I looked at him, as though evaluating.
"How many dances have you been to?" I asked.
"All of them," he said, "even a couple that weren't at my school. Granted, I don't mind dancing, but that isn't why I go."
I thought about it, not sure if I could figure it out.
"Why do you go?" I asked.
"Because," he said, "it isn't about me. It is about them. People. Friends you see every day, who have a reason to put an effort in. They get to get together without school looming over 'em, not even needing to be friends, dressing nice and talking and enjoying just being together. It is about connections, and I am not just talking about the couples thing. We get to be ourselves in a way that we almost never do at school and connect with people in a way that we can't when we are worrying about homework and late bells and right answers. It is an excuse to get all dressed up so we can let our hair down, so to speak."
The way he said it didn't sound all that bad. It actually sounded kind of nice. Plus, I could sort of see it better. I actually couldn't wait to gush over how nice my friends looked, and I didn't even want to think of what Edward might look like in a tux, since I probably would choke and die and never actually get a chance to see it. Still, as nice as it sounded, I couldn't give the game up.
"Maybe another time," I said. I was a little surprised that Jacob didn't seem at all disappointed.
"Cool," he said, "just let me know if you change your mind. I bet you would look amazing in a halfway decent dress."
Charlie got this expression like he wanted to agree but also wanted to tell Jacob to never say anything like that again. Billy chuckled.
"If you say so," I said dismissively.
After that, the evening wound down. The dads went back to watch the end of the game, and Jacob barely let me help as he cleaned dishes. I pretty much only put leftovers away and dried a few things as he did a pretty good job at the chore. Then I realized he probably did most if not all of the dish washing and felt like a creep.
"Don't do that," he said.
"What?" I asked, surprised.
"You had a thought that you did something wrong," he said. "It isn't worth beating yourself up over it."
"How do you do that?!" I all but cried.
He grinned, "I'm awesome."
I smiled.
"It's okay," he said. "You can say it. I won't get a big head or nothing."
"Not any bigger, anyway," I mocked, and he clutched his chest in mock offense.
He finished up the dishes and put the towel over his shoulder. He looked nice like that, sort of domestic and comfortable with it. He was the kind of guy who felt at home and was useful in the kitchen. Something felt warm in me and made me keep smiling, which was at odds with his suddenly serious expression.
"I was serious though," he said, leaning against the counter and putting his hands in his pockets. "About the post break up thing. I am not trying to break you guys up or anything, but really. I care about you Bella. I just want to see you be happy."
"Thanks, Jake," I said. "I appreciate that."
"So," he said, his words still lower than the sound of the game, "who is this boyfriend of yours?"
I bit my lip, "Edward Cullen."
Jacob slapped a hand over his mouth, from the expression I could make out from around it, he was trying really hard not to laugh. I was tempted to add my hand to his and settled for thumping him a few times to get him to shut up, which, of course, only made him laugh longer and harder.
"Well," he said after he subsided, "that explains my dad."
"What about your dad?" I asked.
"The trying-to-get-you-to-go-to-the-dance-with-me thing," he said. "I may not be trying to break you up, but Dad wouldn't mind if you never spoke to the guy again."
It suddenly occurred to me that not everyone in the reservation thought that the legends were fiction. I was very tempted to spend the rest of the evening in the presence of the dads to make sure nothing passed between them, but I couldn't be sure that it hadn't already and there was pretty much no way to make that seem natural.
"So," said Jacob, "looks like the competition is pretty steep. Good. I like a challenge."
I frowned at him, "I thought that you weren't trying to break us up."
He smiled, "I'm not. I will be the perfect gentlemen, and if you decide that you would rather be with me than him, that isn't my fault."
Smiling, I shook my head.
"Go on ahead," I said. "But really, I don't see that happening."
"Sure, sure," he said, throwing the dish towel at me. I barely caught it, only because it hit me first and just fell into my hand. I think that was what he meant to happen.
"Ready to go, Jake?" asked Billy, wheeling in.
"Just about," he said, and we started moving towards the door.
"Come for a visit," said Jacob, "any time you like."
"Alright," I said, feeling more than a bit self-conscious with the dads there.
"Bye, Bella," said Billy.
"Bye," I said, making it for both of them. Dad and Jake got Billy down and they headed off after Charlie said his farewell as well.
I walked back to the kitchen and dropped off the towel that I found I was still holding. Charlie followed me. I turned to find him leaning against the door, looking down. Something about the way he held himself made me think of the boys at school. He looked younger somehow, sort of sullen.
"I have homework," I said, heading towards the stairs.
"I'm not an idiot, you know," he said.
My foot paused in mid-step, right until I lost my balance and nearly fell. I turned back to Charlie.
"What are you talking about?" I asked, genuinely unsure.
"I know you have been lying to me," he said, crossing his arms and looking cross.
Well, crap.
"About what?" I asked, trying to align my thoughts. He looked at me like I was being insulting. Before I could think what to do, he turned and walked into the living room. I couldn't help but follow him. He turned off the television, and I don't know how, but I knew this was him preparing to retire to his room.
"Dad," I beseeched him.
He whipped around, "No, Bella. I am your father. You don't just get to live here and behave like I am a convenient roommate. I deserve your respect and your honesty. Until you are willing to give it, you are grounded."
"What!" I cried, truly dismayed. "You can't-"
He wheeled back towards me, and for all that he had said, I was shocked by just how completely unangry he looked. He looked hurt and sad. I would have preferred a shouting match.
"You are allowed out of the house for school only," he said. "Homework is to be done here. If you plan on studying with someone, they are only allowed in the house while I am here. Other than that, no guests, no going anywhere aside from prearranged grocery trips. If you get bored, I can assign you chores."
I felt the prick of angry tears. But I wasn't stupid enough to have them focused at him.
"You brought this upon yourself," he said, and he was right. Everything he was saying I did, I had done. This was all on me. The problem was, I really wanted to go to the dance. With all the time I had put into resisting, once I had asked Edward, I had never considered that I wouldn't get to go. Now, really thinking about it, I felt nearly desperate to go. And now, I couldn't.
"Good night," he said, and went to his room. I was tempted to grab his arm, to protest, to make excuses, but that wouldn't do. I watched, tears being to brim, as his door closed.
I went upstairs, my motions slow, the world around me dreamlike. I walked into my room, carrying my school bag. I set it down, right next to the bag that had had my dress in it, now hung in my closet. Only then did I remember finding that bag on the stairs, put there by Charlie. I was an idiot.
I did my homework, which, lucky for me, was mostly problems. If it had been reading, I didn't think I would have gotten through a single paragraph. Finally, I packed up my books. As I did so, a piece of paper crunched in my bag, which was weird because I never kept loose paper in it. I pulled it out. It was folded over, with a phone number and Jacob written on it. It made me smile and shake my head.
Showering quickly, I went to bed, though I stayed up far longer than I would have liked. In the end, I drifted off, still not sure what I was going to tell Edward.