The next morning, I awoke feeling rested, which amazed me considering that I got the impression that I had tossed and turned restlessly all night. I was surprised that I slept at all really, considering how excited I was for the day. How much I had changed! I couldn't have imagined being this excited for a dance two weeks ago.
I got up, dressed in jeans and long sleeve T, looking outside. The weather was surprisingly nice, the sun peeking from the clouds now and again, I wondered if this would be a problem for Edward. I pulled out my dress, ready to move it to the truck when it was time to leave. I put my shoes and wrap on my chair for when I needed them, then proceeded to do my usual Saturday routine. Light breakfast, laundry, cleaning downstairs, planned the meals for the week and set up a grocery list, rechecking my homework. I was halfway through the latter when I heard a knock at the door. Charlie had left hours ago, before I had gotten up, and I had never had an unexpected visitor, save one, which was why I was suddenly sprinting just long enough to remember that a tumble down the stairs would do no one any favors. I got to the door and threw it open without thinking it would be anyone other than him, which it was.
It took me a moment, considering I thought I had never seen her before, but then, I realized that I had simply never seen her on a sunny day before.
"Alice?" I nearly croaked. Her pixyish mean remained, but her hair had gone gray and white in places. Her fair skin was papery, aged without being age-spotted, her wrinkles so fine it gave the look of being repeatedly crumpled until they were nearly ubiquitous, leaving her soft and almost powdery. But it wasn't the most eye catching change in her appearance; her eyes… I had never seen anything like those eyes. I realized that she wore contacts, just as Edward did, to keep from being seen as something otherworldly. Her blue eyes were… everything. They swam with every hue of blue that there was. It could be so easy to lose yourself, trying to pick out every detail. They had the appearance of gemstone, all hidden depths and shine. It was impossible to see such eyes and still believe she was simply human.
Which made it all the more disconcerting when her voice was staggeringly the same.
"Yes, yes," she complained, "Now, will you please invite me in?"
I chastised myself for knowing better and for not being more polite.
"Come in," I said, "why are you coming in?"
It was only then I noticed the bag, which seemed too heavy for her even when she looked like her younger, usual self.
"I know, I know," she snapped quickly. "You absolutely wouldn't let me even loan you a gown, even though I have them in your size and they would look amazing on you. Don't give me that look! I didn't buy them just for you. And I know that you couldn't possibly deny Jess the satisfaction of doing your makeup, even though I would do a much better job. You would hate that and the dress, because you would be gorgeous and feel so completely unlike yourself that you wouldn't have nearly as good a time as you hoped, even though you deserve to feel glamorous and beautiful because you are, no arguments!"
I didn't feel like arguing; I felt like giggling. I have never seen anyone so small be so passionately determined. I didn't think it was a time for giggles though. I felt like this was a speech given to the troops before a battle, which just made me want to giggle all the more.
"So," she said in passing, heading for the kitchen, "I am relegated to hair. And, I know! I know. Nothing too fancy or too elaborate. I can be understanding. Mostly. Now…"
She pulled me over and began running cool fingers through my hair.
"Not terrible," she said. "Here."
She pulled out two bottles of something. I didn't recognize the labels. It didn't help that the instructions were in Italian or French. I couldn't tell which.
"Shampoo your hair with that one," she pointed, "I will tell you when to rinse. Then condition with the other, again, and I will also tell you when to rinse. Dry with this and then come back, wearing this."
She handed me a fluffy white towel and a blue silk robe.
"I have-" but she cut me off.
"Bella," she all but whined, "will you please just trust me!"
I rolled my eyes and took all that was offered me, heading upstairs to the shower. I stripped and got in, finding the water temperature good, and tried to relax, the shower helping. I was about to pop the top to the shampoo when I heard Alice's voice.
"Not quite as much as you usually use," she called through the door.
I paused.
"I can see what I will be working with, not what is going on behind the door," she explained. "Your modesty is intact. Not that it matters! We're both girls!"
I found myself laughing, "Alice, don't take this the wrong way, but I am not interested in having you in the shower with me."
She laughed too, and I washed my hair.
"That's good," she said, and I rinsed, drawing my hands through my hair to make sure it got all the suds out. We repeated with the conditioner, and I could tell even before I got out that my hair was soft and smooth in a way that felt nice and made me tingle in a weird way. I got out and found that the towel was way softer than our usual towels, and did a great job of drying me quickly.
"Leave your hair still damp," said Alice. "Just not dripping. I will be downstairs."
I finished and put on the silk robe. It felt incredible, sliding across my shower damp skin. I felt so incredibly relaxed, like me but entirely different, like I had been to the spa that one time with my mom, only somehow more pampered because I didn't have anyone to mind. I went downstairs, not the least bit self-conscious that I was walking around in a pretty thin robe in common areas of the house. I didn't see Alice anywhere. I headed to the kitchen/dining room, and was about to turn to look for her when I heard something hiss.
"Close your eyes," she said, and I did, suddenly misted by a flowery perfume that I was amazed that I liked so much.
"Ooh," I found myself saying as Alice whipped around me, and I felt additional drops on my neck and wrists. Almost instinctively, I went to put my wrists together.
"Dab," instructed Alice. "Don't rub."
I dabbed my wrists together then each on the spots on my neck in turn.
"Come on," she said, and I heard the chair scrap as I opened my eyes and sat.
She spritzed something in my hair and began brushing it out, her hands and motions so precise and deft that I barely felt a thing. There wasn't even a single knot or uncomfortable tug.
"How are you?" she asked, and I was grateful to have something to do, even if I was enjoying her attention on me.
"Excited," I said, "with a big old side of nervousness."
She laughed, "You don't have any reason to be nervous."
I looked at her, "Do I not?"
She laughed again, "I can't tell you what is going to happen. Too many variables. I can tell you what will happen if nothing changes between now and then, but I am not going to."
I thought about that, "Then why tell me not to be nervous?"
She stopped, and I realized that I was being a bit of an idiot.
"Bella," she said with a sigh, "I am more than my ability. I am a person, and I care about you too. What I do matters too. I want to be a part of the world just as much as you do, and I can't do that if I only exist in the future."
I nodded while she wasn't doing stuff to my hair. Yep, definitely idiot territory.
"Okay," I said.
When she spoke again, she sounded like she was smiling.
"I like that you gave up apologizing," she said. "You don't have to be sorry for your mistakes around him, or me, or anyone. Some people might expect it from time to time, but…"
I smiled, "I always have a choice."
She laughed, squeezing my shoulder, and went back to my hair. We gabbed about this and that, and I had no end of questions about Edward, which she never really answered, simply acting as any sister might, annoyed by her endearing sibling. I kind of got the impression that she was mostly not giving away the game, never telling me anything because she wanted me to learn directly from the source, but I also felt like she was purposefully not telling me something by not telling me anything, a sort of like a lie of omission, only more so.
I couldn't have told you what she did until it was over. She mostly stayed behind me, and her work was so light and careful, I couldn't tell anything except that she was moving my hair around. Finally she handed me a mirror.
"All done," she said, beaming.
I took the mirror. My mouth fell open.
My hair had been plaited into a circlet braid, interwoven with thin wires that look gold, set here and there with what looks like small pearls. The braids disappeared into each other, somehow making a perfect circle with no discernable beginning or endpoint. The bulk of my hair had been pulled into a beautifully crafted bun that looked very stable and tight, yet comfortable, around which the circlet formed. I moved my neck about and nothing pulled or bunched or tugged. It was the nicest my hair had ever looked, shiny and soft. A few strands fell artfully about my face. I wasn't about to lie.
"I feel like a princess," I said in wonder. Alice beamed.
I checked the time. It was perfect. I had just enough time to grab a snack and head over to Jess's. This was going to be interesting.
I ate and Alice packed up.
"Are you going tonight?" I asked, looking at her appearance. I noticed that her hair was almost black again.
"Oh sure," she said. "By the time the sun goes down, I will be fine. I will be in the black cocktail dress. See you there!"
She kissed my cheek and darted out of the house with her bag, her hair flaring gray and white again as she went. She hoped in a black BMW before pulling out and driving away. As soon as she was out of sight, I looked in the mirror again. I wasn't sure. I thought it might be a bit much. I looked so unlike my usual self. I didn't know how to feel. I was suddenly considering pulling everything apart when the phone rang. I answered.
"DON'T YOU DARE!" cried Alice. "Some trust, Bella!"
I sighed and laughed, "Okay, okay."
I hung up.
I ran upstairs to grab my shoes and my dress and found a pack of black pantyhose, sitting atop a shoebox. I picked up the pack, only this time, I recognized the French on the label. Rolling my eyes and smiling, I opened the shoebox. Inside were what looked like my dress shoe, nearly identically, only the heel was greatly diminished. I didn't understand, but I was willing to trust Alice. I stuck the pack, my dress, and my shawl in the garment bag that my bridesmaid dress had been in and headed to the truck, bag over one arm, shoebox under the other. From there, I got to Jess's in short order.
I hadn't made it out the door before Jess made it out of the house. She was running up to me in her excitement, right up until she saw me. I had biffed it on grass hard a time or two. I was just glad she hadn't put her dress on yet.
"Ow," she said, having slid nearly two feet on her front. Her T-shirt was pretty much ruined with grass stains. I knew. Still on the ground, she looked up at me, confused, surprised, and in awe.
"Hi," I said sheepishly.
"How…" she barely got out. "When…"
I shrugged, trying to act like it wasn't any big deal.
"I…" I started, "Alice got to me."
"Alice?" she asked, confused.
"Edward's sister," I said. "She just showed up at my house, insisting on doing me hair."
She stared, and then seemed to realize she was still one ground.
"You think she'll do mine?" she asked, looking impressed and noticeably jealous as she stood up.
I winced, "I don't think so. There isn't enough time. She is probably getting ready herself now."
To say nothing of the fact that she mostly resembled a little old lady the last time I saw her.
"Right," Jess said, sounding mollified.
I winced, "Are you okay?"
She looked distracted a moment.
"What?" she asked, then looked down. "Oh, I'm fine. I'm just thinking I'm going to have to step my game up on your makeup."
I was about to complain, but she cut me off.
"With that dress and that hair, your makeup is going to need to keep up," she said. "No arguments! I am not letting you out of this house with only halfway decent makeup. You will still look like you, I promise."
I started to feel a little uncomfortable.
"Is Angela here yet?" I asked, trying to push the attention away from me.
"Not yet," she said. "Her mom is helping her take in her dress a little and help with her hair. She said she would be over as soon as they are done. We have a little time."
We walked inside to find Jessica's mother standing in the living room, looking like she was trying to tidy the place last minute.
"Why hello," he said expansively, her tightly curled ringlets bobbing as she moved. "Jessica failed to mention we were having company."
This last was said with a blunted rebuke at her daughter.
"Mom," complained Jess. "I told you about the dance. Girls get ready for the dance together, as you well know. I would have thought that was obvious."
Mrs. Stanley finally looked at me and my bag and shoebox.
"Wow," she said. "I see someone already got her hair did. Well, you girls let me know if you need any help with your makeup."
"Mom wanted to be a beautician," Jessica explained, "back before she got knocked up and had to get a respectable job at the bank. She was pretty good, not that there is much work here for that."
We ended up back in Jess's bathroom, which, now that I had met Mrs. Stanley, made a lot more sense with the bottles and makeup mirrors and all.
"Sit," Jess said, bringing in a chair. "We will get you done first, since I know how to put it on myself easily enough."
"Alright," I said, feeling unsure.
Jess set to work. She tried punching up my look, but it wasn't working.
"I don't want blue eye shadow," I said.
"Let's just try it," she said. "We can see how it looks and if you don't like it, we can start again."
Three tries later, I was ready to just do it myself. As though by some sixth mother's sense, Mrs. Stanley appeared before Jess and I could get too frustrated with each other.
"What is going on?" she asked, sounding authoritative.
"I can't make this work," Jess said. "She doesn't like anything I am doing. She says it's too much or not her. I don't know what she wants or how to do what she wants."
Mrs. Stanley clucked her tongue.
"Sit," she said, pointing at the edge of the tub. I got the feeling that this was a typical command, because Jess followed it with the ease of an old habit.
"Now," Mrs. Stanley said. "Let's have a look at you."
She turned on a few portable lights, pointing them so that my face was pretty much devoid of shadow. She looked me over for a long second.
"How often do you wear makeup?" she asked.
"Almost never," I admitted. "Pretty much for fancy occasions, and that's it."
She nodded.
"Can I touch your face?" she asked.
I nodded. Her skin was smooth, her regularly applied lotion unscented, as she brushed the back of her finger on my cheek and my forehead.
"Are you willing to trust me?" she asked, looking me over.
"Sure," I said, "I just don't want-"
She waved a hand.
"You don't have to tell me, hon," she said. "I understand already. You aren't looking for the spotlight. But, tonight, you will be in it whether you want to or not. So, why not look good while doing it? I am not going to make you into someone else. I am just going to show off what you've got."
I tried to relax. I was sure it was going to be okay, but I wasn't used to this.
"Breathe," she said, smiling. "You will be amazed dear, trust me."
She turned the chair so I couldn't see the mirror, readjusting the light. I felt nervous, but that was mostly because I wasn't often in this situation. Once I realized that, that the fear came only from the unknown, it became a lot easier.
She cleaned my face with stuff from two different bottles, one she said got rid of oil, the other that was a really good exfoliate, whatever that means. Then, she did a few tests looking for color matches, she said. In the end, it became as much a lesson for Jessica as it did a makeup application for me. I couldn't understand half the stuff they were talking about, only things like contrasts and basic stuff like lipstick and mascara. But, from the look on Jess's face, her mother was doing something right.
I wasn't sure when Angela got there. I just looked up and she was standing in the doorway. Her hair looked really nice, long and with two thin braids that started around her temples and came together in the back. The rest was a bit wavy and looked really cute on her. I smiled, and she swallowed and I was confused.
"Hey, Ang," I said when I could. "I love your hair."
She looked in awe.
"You look amazing, Bella," she said.
"Yeah," said Jess. "I can't wait to see Lauren. She is going to have kittens! I can't wait for prom."
"Prom?" I asked.
"Yeah," she said. "This is only the spring formal, after all. People really go all out for prom."
I looked at them both, "Is it too much? Am I going overboard?"
"No!" all three of them said at the same time, but Jess got her words out first after that.
"You are not trying too hard because you aren't the one doing it," she said. "Did you ask your friend to do your hair?"
"No," I said, still unconvinced.
"And did you ask me to do your makeup?" asked Mrs. Stanley.
"No," I said, unclenching somewhat.
"All you did was buy a nice dress," said Jess. "The rest are gifts from people in your life who think you deserve it."
Finally, I relaxed completely. She was right. I wasn't trying to be someone I was. I was accepting the gifts of others. Going out tonight, walking in front of the students, that was an act of faith. That I could understand.
Finally, my face was finished. Again, someone handed me a mirror. I closed my eyes until it was in front of me, then I opened them.
It was… not that bad. It was nowhere near as bad as I was fearing. If I had any foundation on, it was hard to tell. My skin looked like its usual pale self. But, I had makeup on, I could tell, but anyone who knew my face less than I did wouldn't be able to tell exactly where the makeup ended and my face began. Sure, the eyeshadow and the nude lip were pretty obvious, but the shadow under my cheek bone that didn't look like blush exactly was less so. I looked more innocent somehow, less look-at-me and more subtlety that drew the eye to look for differences. My eyes popped, dark and expressive as ever. With my hair, I… I really didn't have words. I felt thrilled, somehow entirely and not at all like myself at the same time. I really liked it.
I smiled and Mrs. Stanley, and she beamed back.
"That look," she said, "made it all worth it. You look great, sweetie."
Angela looked happy for me, almost teary, actually. I would have felt so myself, if Jess wasn't positively bouncing with excitement.
"I can't wait!" she crowed, all but dancing. "You are going to turn so many heads! It is going to be fabulous."
I excused myself to Jess's room to put on my dress and the hose, leaving the shoes for later. Coming back, I found Jess getting her makeup done by her mom, while Angela was doing her own makeup. She was taking Mrs. Stanley's advice, but she was doing it herself. Jess's makeup looked great, the very attention seeking flashy sort of look that she liked, but more professionally, and a bit more tastefully, done. All eyes went wide when they turned to me, and I was rather flattered. I could have disagreed or made some disparaging comment, but I didn't. I had decided to have faith. And, I did.
"Come keep me company while I get my dress on," Jess said, so I did.
I mostly kept my back to her, but I realized that Jess was just as immodest with her nudity as she was with everything else about herself. I couldn't help but notice her black thong when I went to go zip her up and it made me anxious for some reason. Jess and I hadn't ever talked about sex except in a sort of abstract way, and only enough to pretty much say, if not exactly say, that we were both virgins. The thought that her status might change tonight hadn't occurred to me. The thought of it was strange. For the first time, the idea of Jess no longer being a virgin and me still being one made me feel like I was being left behind. I had thought that sex wasn't a big deal, believed that I could go without it, for Edward, but for the first time, I realized that I would be missing out. I would be missing out on something, whether consciously or not, I had been looking forward to. It was part of growing up, becoming a woman, in ways I probably wouldn't understand until I actually had it, as my mom had said. For the first time, being with Edward felt like losing out on something. And, I didn't want to lose out on anything.
I realized that I was just standing there, and Jess was entirely dressed and had realized that I was just standing there, staring at nothing, lost in thought.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice rising at the end in sympathy. I swallowed and waved my hand at myself twice.
"Yeah," I said, shaking it off. "Yeah. I'm fine."
Jess handed me my replacement shoes.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked. "We have a little time."
I tried to think of anything that was safe to say. I couldn't tell her the truth, exactly, and the selfish notion of asking her not to lose her virginity tonight was the last thing I was going to say out loud, and then it clicked.
"Do you know what an Ace is?"
"Ace?" she asked, looking confused.
"Short of asexual," I said.
"Oh," she said, "then no."
"It is a person who isn't interested in sex," I said. "It's like someone who's sexual orientation includes no one."
"Oh," said Jess thinking about it. "That sounds horrible."
"Not to them," I said, a bit defensively.
"Oh," she said, as though understanding. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-"
I shook my head, almost laughing at how much she was nearly freaking out.
"No," I said, my tone easier. "I'm not."
I sighed, "That's… kind of the problem."
Her eyes went wide.
"Oh," she said, real understanding coming into her eyes. "Oh god! No wonder he never dated anyone."
I shrugged, not about to correct her. She was less than half right.
"But," she asked, "then why did he start dating you?"
I looked hurt, but I wasn't thinking, just as she wasn't.
"Oh god!" she cried, looking mortified. "I'm such a bitch! Don't listen to me."
"No," I said, "it's okay. He's still hetero-romantic."
"Huh?" she said. She went to put on her own shoes.
"He has romantic interest," I said, "in girls."
"Oh," he said, "he just doesn't want to plow them."
"Jessica!" I said, sure I was blushing so violently, I was certain it was melting my makeup.
She grinned, "Would you prefer I said 'bone'?"
I was still pink.
"Shag?" she cut in, "Screwed? Hump? Nail? Lay? Bang? Boink?"
"Okay," I laughed, before she did something really embarrassing, like moan and make O faces.
Then, I remembered something.
"He said," I began, not sure how to phrase it.
"Yeah?" asked Jess, serious now.
"He…" I continued, "He said that we might… try… at some point, if that is what I wanted."
Jess considered this.
"No," she said. "I don't think you can do that."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
She sighed, taking up her own wrap as I did mine.
"Imagine if Edward were a girl," she said. "She was the same in every way, save for her gender."
I thought about it. The idea was interesting. He had grace and beauty a plenty now, and the idea of his raw, genteel masculinity turned to vulnerable, gentle femininity made me, at the very least, curious, but the more I thought about it, the more I understood what Jess was getting at.
"I think…" I said, trying to put it into words. "I think I would want to want to be with her more than I would want to be with her."
"Hmm?" Jess asked as we prepared to walk out of her room.
"I would want to be with her, not because I wanted to be with her," I explained, "but because I would want to be the sort of person who didn't care about gender. Also, I think, a little because I wouldn't want to lose her."
Jess raised her eyebrows and pressed her lips in an "I told you so" expression. I nodded.
For the first time, I realized that being with him the way I wanted and being with him were two different things, and the latter was less than I wanted, a reduction. Which meant one of two things. One, I didn't get to be with Edward or, two, I didn't get to have the kind of relationship I wanted. I didn't want to think about the former. The latter, I could consider.
"Okay," I said. "I'm ready."
We walked out into the living room. Mrs. Stanley looked like she was going to cry, and I missed my mom horribly.
"Pictures?" she asked, and I nodded. My mom would kill me if there weren't at least a few. She seemed as put out as Jess when I first told her I wasn't interested in school dances, but my mom never pushed. She would just die when I showed her these.
They snapped pictures, and when Angela came in from changing in the bathroom, we oohed and awed all of each other, posing together. At Jess's request, we did the whole Charlie's Angels pose and laughed and were having a good time when there was a knock at the door.
"I'll get it," said Mrs. Stanley meaningfully.
"Who do you think it is?" Jess asked.
I considered, "Probably Mike."
She laughed, "Please! Mike has never been on time for a single date since we-"
Mike walked in with Mrs. Stanley.
His hair was pretty much the same as he had at school. I couldn't tell how often he shaved, since his tow colored stubble was hard to see, but he was obviously better groomed than he usually was, his hair with more product and looking freshly barbered. He wore a nice suit, not a tux, but something that didn't look rented. It looked like a nice, non button-up shirt under his suit jacket, with a vest. It fit him really well, and he looked very good in it, his dress shoes polished. He turned and surveyed the room, and when his eye found Jess he smiled, until he got a good look at her, then his eyes bugged out a little. From the expression on Jess's face, she was more than a little pleased. She trip trapped her way to him as quickly as she could in heels on carpet before she hugged him, kissing him soundly. Her mother fussed and pulled lipstick out of a small clutch bag and told Jess to touch it up. Jess did, but not before beaming at Mike a bit more. Finally, he smiled and turned back to Angela and me.
"Wow," he said modestly. "Don't you ladies look nice?"
"Why, thank you, Michael!" said Mrs. Stanley teasingly.
We stepped back as she got pictures with just Jess and Mike, suddenly looking like she might cry again. It wasn't long before there was another knock at the door, but it was only Ben, Ang's date. The dark haired, dark eyed Ben was just a little below average height for a boy, but with Angela standing at over six feet tall, it was easy to see why she had decided to go with flats this evening. Was that why Alice gave me the shoes? Even so, they looked quietly happy to be together but were still in the slightly awkward "we can't believe our luck and don't want to mess this up" phase. Or, at least, Ben was, and Angela wasn't trying to rush him. They were pretty adorable together, actually.
"Where's Edward?" asked Jess. "It's almost sundown."
Oh. Right. Somehow, I hadn't even thought about that. I looked outside, to check how low the sun was and see if there were any accommodating clouds, and, to no one's surprise, I found a silver Volvo pulling up. The sun was below the hills and the tree line, no direct sunlight. It was time.
For some reason, I didn't want him to come to the door. He had never come to the door before, and somehow, I didn't want the first time he did it to be here, at a house that wasn't my home. So, I drowned out whatever talking was going on, and despite Jess not getting to share this particular moment with me, I stepped outside.
I moved to the edge of the porch, just before I had to step down onto the steps, my wrap drawn about my arms, held closed at my middle by one hand as I held the other behind my back. I stood with my weight mostly on my front foot, the other foot dragging, as though I had just taken a step and was possibly thinking of taking the step down towards him, unable to wait. My chin slightly tucked, sure that he could see me, I waited. I expected him to step out immediately. He didn't. It wasn't a long wait, but it was a bit longer than I would have thought. The moment before I became unsure, he came out.
Edward was… well, Edward. I was wearing a fitted tux, and wearing it very well. It showed off his trim waist and his shoulders, adding grace to him that usually was just limited to his motions. It had no tie, but a classic vest that matched my dress in color. I caught the flicker of light playing off cufflinks and what looked like a black stone in the top button hole of his short collar. But how good he looked was nothing to his expression.
He was… in awe. There was no better word for it. The expression was nearly reverent, as though he beheld something that was nearly inescapable proof of the divine. For a single instance, I wanted to argue, to say something disparaging, to cast doubt upon him and say that he was being unreasonable. And then, I didn't. I let go and let it be the gift it was.
He made it to the stairs before I realized I wasn't sure exactly how close he intended to get. I was still, apart from my free hand coming out to take his as he offered his opposing one. I let him turn me as he came up to stand beside me, as close as we were while walking together at school, only this time, he faced me. I realized then that difference in our heights was nearly the same as it always was, and it probably would have bugged me all night if it were different. I silently thanked Alice.
Edward took my hand gently, but his eyes upon my face were ever more gentle. He seemed to bask in my presence, soaking me in like a balm. He looked almost relaxed, or as relaxed as he ever got. And then, with such care, he leaned in. Before I could even comprehend what might be happening, he listed to one side. His lips on my cheek were cool and light, barely a flutter, which is nothing to the pounding of my hammering heart.
"Were that I a poet," he said, "with seven centuries of finely honed craft, I could not capture even a droplet in the ocean of your beauty."
Jess's badly contained squeal was the first indication that we weren't alone. But the very idea of turning away from Edward at that moment was one of the hardest things I had ever done. To my surprise, he squeezed my hand encouragingly, as though to say that I had all the time I could ever want to look into his eyes and that now, we had other things to do.
I turned. Mike stood behind Jess, his arms around her, hers around his, their every finger entwined. Angela held Eric's hand, but she looked more interested in him, and there was something reassuring about her, and he looked a little overwhelmed and grateful for the support. Mrs. Stanley was still taking pictures. If that moment Edward and I just had was truly captured by any degree, my mom would come back from the dead and die again.
"We should go," I said, Edward tucking my hand through his arm. The fabric of his tux was so soft and smooth. My voice bobbled as I felt it, because I thought about running my hands over all of it.
Jess had her clutch, which had our makeup and money, and Angela had a small purse with her too, and we were ready. Mrs. Stanley kept snapping pictures, and after more than a few calls for us to be good and stay safe, and a quick exchanged look with Jess about what sort of protection they might need and a faint blush from me which made her laugh, we all got into cars with high spirits.
As soon as we were in the car, Edward and I each said our own versions of "I missed you" at nearly the exact same time and we both smiled.
"Do you know where we are going?" I asked.
"Yes," he said. "Where all kids go to eat before the dance who can afford it."
I sighed, "The Lodge."
The Lodge was the most expensive place in town to eat, which, given Forks, wasn't saying that much. It also happened to be my father's favorite place to eat out. We only went on special occasions, which was fine by me since it's a bit rustic for me. I preferred my eateries with less animal parts on the walls.
"I almost brought my other car tonight," Edwards said.
My eyes went a little wide, "You have another car?"
He smiled, "Readily available, yes. This is the car I use for appearances sake, the one that doesn't stand out."
I considered the Volvo, shiny and sleek and expensive.
"Wait?" I frowned. "This is your wallflower car?"
He grinned, "As you say."
I almost lost my grip on the present.
"Why?" I asked.
"Why do I have a so-called wallflower car?" he asked.
"Why did you almost bring your other car?" I clarified.
He looked back to the road.
"I almost brought it because I thought you might feel special, driving in a car that is more expensive, more of an indulgence, one that would make you feel as though you deserve nice things and to be doted upon."
I smiled, "If you were to dote on me today, I think you might actually get away with it."
To my surprise, he pulled over.
"I have something for you," he said.
I suddenly felt like there was a frog in my throat.
"Oh?" I croaked, or maybe it was just the frog.
He smiled, "If it helps, you might think of this as a loan."
Somehow, that did make me feel better. Even if I had wanted to protest, he stifled me with that smile, happier than I think I had ever seen him. I just couldn't.
"As agreed," he continued, "I spent no money upon it. It was in my possession before our agreement. At the end of the night, it may return to my possession, yours to use whenever you should choose."
I couldn't quite be mad at him or keep the smile off my face.
"Turn," he instructed, and I did, putting my back to him. I felt body warmed links slide about my neck, a necklace of some kind. I felt his still cool fingers loop a clasp.
"There," he said, and I felt the back of a nail as he gave the back of one of my bare shoulders a grazing caress. I turned, flipping the visor and opening the mirror.
It was a vintage necklace. I could tell it was old, but it matched my hair, the gold and pearls. But I couldn't even be mad at Alice. It was beautiful. It was a large looped chain, each loop crossing at one end, one lead hooking to the previous loop, the other ending in a dual leafed little budded flower, each bud a pearl. There was a central loop with two flowers, the necklace symmetrical. I was speechless. I found it easiest to return to our previous topic.
"Why didn't you bring your other car?" I asked.
He smiled and returned to the road.
"This car," he said, sounding almost hesitant, as though he wasn't sure how to pick his words. I realized as he went on that it wasn't a lack of vocabulary or indecisiveness that had him pausing ever here and there; it was a lack of meaningfulness.
"This car," he said again, "this is the vehicle in which it all… happened. All the time I have spent with you… it was largely here, in this place. This is almost… our car as much as it was once mine. When I think of traveling with you, I think about riding beside you here. The conversations we have shared, the bits of ourselves we have exchanged… they are in some ways as ineffaceably linked to this conveyance as they are to us. On this night, our first sincere outing as a couple, it felt entirely wrong to use another apparatus."
I got it then, somehow, as if I had always known, as though I didn't even need his explanation.
"This car is a token," I said.
He looked at me in awe, "That is precisely correct."
I nodded, smiling.
"I agree," I agreed. "It would have felt wrong any other way."
"Exactly," he said, the single word sounding strangely modern coming from his lips, but as he squeezed my hand and I realized that my statement was true for more than just the car. My dress, my makeup, my hair, my companion, my ride, all of it, was to be as it was and any deviation would have felt wrong.
"I want to have sex," I said.
I don't know what I was expecting, but a reaction seemed the most likely. Edward hardly complied.
"I see," he said, then paused for several moments before asking, "May I have more information?"
"I do not expect you to have sex with me," I went on. "In fact, I think it would be pretty unfair to even ask. It would be like you asking me to try blood."
He winced, "Your analogy is sound, but still leaves something to be desired."
I nodded, "But, even if I am not asking you, I still want to. Have it, I mean. Or do it. Whatever."
He considered, "Why are you telling me this?"
I shrugged, "Because it is the truth. Because as much as I want to be with you, I know now that I can't have everything I want. Because I understand that I can only choose to be with you, not how it will be when I am. Because I understand that sometimes there might not be easy answers to some questions, but that doesn't change how I feel."
We turned into the Lodge's parking lot.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
"That I want to be your girlfriend," I said. "That I am grateful for what I have. That… I'm not owed a thing, not by you or anyone else."
He parked, "But you still want to have sex."
I nodded, "Yeah, I do. Well, more like… I want all of it."
"All of what?" he asked.
"The right of passage," I said. "The experience of it, sure, but also the closeness, the growth, the step in growing up and being human."
For a moment he looked ridget, "Bella, I can't do any of those things. I am a vampire."
I think it was the first time he had ever admitted that in so many words.
"I know," I said. "And I don't have an answer for this."
He seemed to understand, all at once. There really wasn't an answer. And that was okay. That was what having faith was all about.
"I sort of wish that I could," he said then. "Not that I can't, but really, I wish I could have it the way you do. Getting lost, feeling the pleasure, and intimacy, the contentment and the connection, all of it. For me, all I would be interested in would be the blood, and I couldn't feel the pleasure or the desire. Everything would be artifice, for your benefit, and while I have no problem participating in an act that benefits you nearly exclusively, there is no way that I know of to avoid wanting to kill you."
He pulled my hand to his lips, kissing the top of it.
"For now," he said. "This is what I can give."
He looked as though everything he was wanted to add the query, "Is it enough?" but he didn't. He looked into my eyes, and saw what I felt for him; the acceptance and the compassion and the affirmation. He knew the answer already.
"Shall we?" he asked, and we did.