*V*V*V*V*V*
"I can literally kill him. I've been watching a lot of crime shows. I think I could get away with it," Alice assures me the next morning before school. We're crammed into a loveseat in a corner of the library where I have been quietly explaining the events of yesterday.
"I thought about doing the same thing after I hung up on him. I just started crying in the parking lot."
"Oh, Bella," she whines, "I'm so sorry."
"It's ok. Besides, it didn't last long because guess who knocked on my window."
"No!" Her voice is too loud for the library and she leans in closer. "No!" she whispers.
"Yes," I confirm. "He asked me what was wrong and if it was his fault. He thought I was crying because of the tan line thing or something and then my phone started ringing again and he asked me if it was my boyfriend. I told him that Emmett was my ex-boyfriend and that I hadn't cheated or anything and then I thanked him for helping me honestly tell Emmett that I've had better."
"You did not!"
"I did," I admit, rolling my eyes. I'm still mortified at myself.
"Oh my god, I can't believe how bold you are now!"
"More like stupid."
She shakes her head vehemently. "Don't say that. He wants you."
I don't contradict her because, honestly, I think he does, too. But wanting doesn't mean anything will come of it. Nothing should come of it, I remind myself.
"It doesn't matter. I need to stop acting like an idiot in front of him so I can survive the rest of the year without dying of embarrassment."
"Or just fuck him and get it over with," she mutters.
I shoot her a dirty look. "Stop."
"Fine, fine." Changing the subject, she asks, "Want to come with me to Volterra tomorrow? I'm meeting Jasper there when he gets off work."
Ah, her bartender. I forgot they were planning on meeting. Some friend I am. But going to the same club at the same time I am – or was – supposed to meet Edward sounds like a terrible idea. "I don't know," I hedge.
"Oh, come on," she prods, guessing at my hesitation. "It's not like he'll be there, right?"
"No, it just . . . I don't know, I'm worried it will be weird to be back there."
"Bellaaaaa," she sings at me pleadingly, "come onnnnn. We can dance and drink and have fun."
"What about Jasper? Are you sure you want a third wheel hanging around on your first date?"
"Depends," she says meaningfully, eyeing me. "Remember how we always said –," she begins.
"No," I say immediately. "I'm not trying to be a bitch, but I am just . . . god, after the week I've had . . ."
Alice shakes her head, eyes wide. "Fuck, I'm sorry. Of course you don't want to. I just . . . I like the thought of it."
I do, too, honestly. Whenever we talked about it in the past, Alice and I were in agreement about the sexiness of the idea – getting to share each other and some attractive man. But after the Edward debacle . . . no. Just no.
"Does Jasper know how old you are?" I ask her, thinking of my own case of mistaken age with Edward.
Her face pinches and I already know the answer. "I haven't quite gotten to that part yet."
"Hey, god knows I'm not one to judge, but that's probably something he should know if you're serious about him."
"I know," she huffs. She doesn't want to hear it. "I'm going to tell him. I just wanted to wait until after our date so he could see how much chemistry we have before he gets scared off."
"Are you going to have sex with him?"
She shrugs, though the defensive set of her shoulders belies her shyness. "Maybe."
"Just, you know, don't make my mistake," I mumble.
"I just have this feeling that he's the one – like, for the rest of my life – and I know that's insane because I've only talked to him over the phone for a week and I'm eighteen, but I just know and I was thinking that if it feels right to have sex on our first date, then so be it. I mean, I'm not planning on it, but, you know, if it happens . . ." She trails off, watching my face for a reaction.
She looks equal parts fierce and fragile. I wrap her in a hug. "Ok."
"Ok, you don't think I'm crazy or ok, you'll come with me to –?"
"Both," I interrupt, rolling my eyes. I've said my piece and it's not my place to make decisions for her – the best I can do is tag along and wish for the best.
"Really?" She looks so hopeful.
"Yes, really." And because we're hidden in the corner away from prying eyes, I press a kiss to her cheek. She smells familiar and sweet.
"Tease."
"You love it."
"I love it."
*V*V*V*V*V*
I knock. "Hey."
"Come in." He sounds terse. I'm not surprised. He barely made eye contact with me during English. Before I manage to sit down, he says, "I don't have any work for you today."
I shrug. "Ok."
He doesn't say anything further and doesn't look up from the paper he's writing on. Ice cold. I suppose these are the consequences for my thoughtlessness in the parking lot.
Sufficiently humbled by his demeanor, I take the hint and silently pull out my homework, though I can hardly focus. It feels ridiculous how much his mood affects me. However, after thirty minutes have passed, his posture is more relaxed and I decide to chance it before our time comes to an end.
"I'm sorry," I announce. My voice is jarring in our shoebox of silence. "I wasn't thinking very clearly yesterday and I shouldn't have –."
He holds up his hand to silence me which is as effective as him actually pinching my mouth shut. "Don't." He sounds exhausted. "Let's just . . . let's not."
"Ok," I say softly. My eyes are watering and I hate myself for being so sensitive. "Sorry," I say one more time because I can't help it.
He doesn't respond, turning back to his computer.
What was I even thinking yesterday? Why did I let Emmett get to me like that? Why did I say something so stupid? He's my teacher, for god's sake. What was I even hoping to get out telling him he's the best I've had? That he would kiss me and declare we should be together like fucking Romeo and Juliet? We'd be very bit as doomed as Romeo and Juliet.
The unbearable tension of existing in this tiny room, unspeaking and anxious, finally ends with the sound of the bell. I don't say a single word to him as I pack up my homework and rush out of his office.
*V*V*V*V*V*
By the time Saturday evening comes around, Alice has already vaguely told her parents that she might be sleeping over at my house tonight in case she decides to stay at Jasper's; we practically live at each other's houses, so it's not like her parents will check up. But her careful alibi makes me think there is little chance she and I will be driving home together tonight.
"Do I look ok?" Alice asks me for the third time, smoothing down her cherry red dress with her free hand as we step out of her car. Right, I'm not the only anxious one. Of course, my anxiety has more to do with thinking this is a terrible idea rather than first date jitters.
"You look so hot. He's going to die," I assure her, linking my arm with hers as we flash our fake IDs at the bouncer. Instinctively, my eyes dart around the club looking for a redheaded man, though, of course, he's not here. But I promised myself I'm not thinking about him tonight.
"You think so? This push up bra doesn't look stupid?"
"Hot," I repeat decisively. "Come on, let's find your lover boy."
He isn't hard to spot. I didn't truly appreciate him before, but his blonde hair and bright blue eyes are dazzling – especially with the way they light up when he sees us. Even though the bar is packed, he steps through the gap to greet us. He hugs Alice first, lingering.
"I'm so glad you came," he yells over the music, grinning. "And, Bella, it's good to see you again." He greets me like an old friend, hugging me in turn, though more platonically. "Alice has told me a lot about you."
Something about him is innately easygoing and charming. Honestly, he reminds me of Emmett – especially with that wide smile – but I try not to think of him either.
"Good things, I hope," I tease because that's what you're supposed to say.
"Very good," he assures me. "I'm still working for another thirty minutes. Can I get you two something to drink? Whiskey sour, right?" he asks me.
Wow, I kind of love him already, relaxing at the idea of Alice going home with this guy. "You got it."
"And I know what you want," he says to Alice, winking.
She laughs and it's clearly a private joke, but I don't mind because she's blushing and happy.
"Ok, he's a keeper," I say in Alice's ear the second he leaves to move behind the bar again. My change of heart is so abrupt that I surprise myself, but I see what Alice means about just having a feeling. This guy is a good one.
"Tell me about it! Ugh, he's so hot I want to eat him."
I just smile. I'm not as bummed as I thought I would be. Especially once Jasper hooks me up with a whiskey sour on the house. Man, I want to eat him, too – whatever that means.
We seat ourselves at the bar, nursing our drinks – I understand their joke when he serves her a Sex on the Beach, though she assures me it's a virgin one since she is the designated driver – and ogling Jasper as he works and interacts with customers. I bet he get a lot of tips with that pretty smile.
Every spare moment he has, he stands by our end of the bar, chatting us up and winking frequently. I find out he lives within walking distance of the club, is a recent English graduate from University of North Texas – which explains why I keep hearing a vaguely southern twang in his voice – and works for a printing company downtown during the day.
"Wait, which company?" I ask excitedly.
"Bedford Publishing House."
"Oh my god!" I exclaim. "I start my internship there in a few weeks!" What are the odds? What is it about that stupid club that makes this such a small world? Of course, even as I am amazed by the coincidence, it occurs to me that I might have to face this guy for every day of my internship. Shit, he is going to find out I'm not twenty-one.
"No kidding," he laughs. "What division?"
My misgivings increasing, I say, "Editing – not like I think they'll let me even breathe on a manuscript, but making their coffee and printing stuff is fine by me as long as I get to see how it all works."
"I know some people there. I bet I could pull some strings if you wanted to actually try your hand at editing." He sounds like he's holding back laughter, like he's teasing me somehow. I feel like he's just trying to impress me.
"That would be cool," I say noncommittally. "You know, Alice is a great writer." I turn the conversation back to her, not wanting her left out. This is her show, after all.
"Oh, really? You didn't tell me that, Ali. What do you write?"
Alice acts shy again, modestly describing her short stories, though she's cut short by Jasper having to tend to another customer.
By the time he brings me my third whiskey sour, I'm calling him cowboy and laughing at the boots sticking out from his jeans like he's a dear friend. To his credit, he is cheerful and good-natured, laughing along and calling me Jack for the type of whiskey in the drinks I'm slugging back.
I'm almost disappointed when his shift is over.
"So, ladies, what now?" he asks, stepping out from behind the bar.
"I'd like to see your apartment," Alice says without batting an eye. I guess that answers that question.
"O-ok," Jasper says, both excited and taken aback by her forwardness. "And Bella, are you –?"
"I'm getting an Uber back," I assure him, raising my glass in toast. He's sweet to think of me when he's so close to getting laid. "Have fun, you two. Nice getting to know you, Jasper." We exchange a few more pleasantries, but Alice is practically dragging him out the door while shooting me apologetic glances. She's got it bad.
The second they're gone, I find myself deflating, listless. Without the distraction of my delightful banter with Jasper, my thoughts turn to Edward, darkening with confusing lust and guilt.
I empty the rest of my drink and decide to avoid lingering.
As I make my way to the exit and through the parking lot to wait for my ride home to arrive, I'm so lost in thought and flashbacks from my last time at Volterra that I almost don't notice the silver Volvo to my left. Even though I would like to pretend I didn't pay any attention to what car Edward drives, there is no mistaking his vehicle.
It can't be, I think as I approach.
But it's hard to convince myself I'm crazy when Edward Masen, in the flesh, is sitting at the wheel, head in hands. For a split second, I consider turning around, pretending I never saw him, preserving the awkward truce we have.
I consider it.
And then I knock at his window.
*V*V*V*V*V*