Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.
When Friday rolls around, I'm a mess.
I've given myself a hundred reasons not to go to Jess's grad party, but then Angela throws out a hundred more as to why I should go.
Number one being that Rose is out of town.
When I spoke to Rose on Tuesday, I didn't mention hanging out with Edward and Jess on Sunday. I told myself it didn't matter, because it was just a friendly hang out. Turns out, Edward hadn't said a thing about it, either. And when Rose said she was gonna be in Los Angeles for work until next week, I kept my mouth shut about Jess inviting Angela and me to her party. I had no real excuse for that one.
Around six, Angela meets me at the boutique I work at during the week. It sucks and the clothes are so fucking expensive, but the pay isn't awful and it doesn't drain all of my energy. So I still have time to work on my jewelry when I get home at night.
I'm gathering my things and clocking out when she walks in. She pulls a dress away from the rack, admires it, peeks at the price tag, and whistles.
"It'll be on sale soon," I tell her, waving bye to my co-worker, Irina.
"That doesn't mean anything if it's still over two hundred. Pretentious fucks." She gives Irina a small smile and a matching wave before we walk out.
"So what's the plan?" I ask, looking at my phone. "Happy hour and then the party?"
"Sounds good to me. You definitely need a drink or two to loosen you up before we head over."
I stop in place, giving her a look. "Last time you said a drink or two, we ended up ordering two pitchers."
"Right. A drink or two pitchers."
As expected, happy hour turns into three beers and a whiskey shot.
"What's the point?" I ask.
She leans back in her chair. "Of… life?"
"No. What's the point of going to Jess's party?"
"To confirm that Edward wants your hot ass."
She says this a little too loudly, gaining the attention of a nearby table. I shush her, and don't laugh when she does, because that's not the reason. Because I know it's wrong. I really do. But… I feel excited to see Edward. I haven't felt excited over anyone in a fucking long time. And it sucks that it's my friend's boyfriend. It's the worst thing that could happen, really.
"I just want to see him," I admit quietly. "I'm allowed to see him. And hang out. As friends!"
"You are such a bad liar."
"It's true, though," I mumble. "I do just want to hang out with him. I seriously like him more and more each time, Ange."
"I'm willing to bet that Edward likes you a little more each time he chills with you, too. So it's only a matter of time before he ditches Rose. 'Kay?"
I drain my glass of water, and we order some food before showing up to the party around eight.
Jess opens the door and envelops us in hugs. She's wearing a sombrero for whatever reason and zero makeup. She exudes a certain kind of confidence that's contagious, and I faintly remember Rose feeling jealous the first time they met. Jess is no-frills, and friendly, so of course Rose would see her as a threat.
"I'm so glad you made it," Jess practically squeals, before turning serious. "Go to the kitchen. Find Edward. Have him make you a margarita. Okay? Okay."
Angela takes her mission seriously. She grabs my hand and I follow behind her, offering quick smiles to strangers as we pass by. Edward's back is to us when we walk into the kitchen. He's having a conversation with someone, so I linger a minute before finally tapping his shoulder.
His face breaks into a familiar smile when he turns around. "Hi."
I stare up at him, smile mirroring his. "Hey."
He greets Angela before wrapping an arm around my shoulder, pulling me against his side for a hug. It sends a thrill through my body, because we've never hugged before. Ever.
"Glad you made it," he says as we pull away.
"Me too. So this is where you live."
"It's not much. Do you want a tour?"
"Jess said we need margaritas," Angela interrupts.
Edward chuckles. "Where's my hospitality? Do you want a drink?" he asks, looking at me, and I nod.
He makes us margaritas, but doesn't use a mix. He squeezes limes, uses agave nectar, and is gracious with the tequila.
We get a quick tour of the place, including the basement, where he brews his own beer. He's modest about it, pretending like it's nothing. It makes him that much more attractive.
Angela disappears once we're upstairs, leaving us to ourselves. We head outside where someone I don't know is grilling sausages and hamburgers. Edward offers to throw something on the grill for me, but I tell him I already ate.
"You're growing out your beard again," I comment, and he runs a hand over his stubble.
"I missed it."
"I like it," I say, bold from tequila.
"I know," he says, tugging on the bottom of my shirt, lips pressed together in a smile.
My heart races. And I can't stand it. Being here with him, wanting to run my fingers over his scruff. Wanting to kiss the smile off his face because it's fucking rude to look at me like that. There's no way he doesn't know what he's doing to me.
"I need another margarita. Do you want one?" I say, stepping backward.
"Yeah. I can make them, though."
"That's okay. I need to just… go. For a second." I grab his glass and disappear inside, where Angela is leaning against the counter, typing away on her phone.
"What's wrong?" she asks, catching a glimpse of my face.
"I just…" I look around, making sure the few people near us aren't listening. "I hate myself for wanting him. What do I do?"
"I'm literally the worst person to ask, Bella."
I grab a lime and begin cutting it, but miss and slice my thumb instead. I curse, bringing it to my mouth for a second. I pull my thumb away to examine the damage and realize the cut's a little deeper than I thought. It immediately starts bleeding again.
"Shoot," I mutter, turning on the faucet.
Edward walks in and sees my thumb under the running water. "What happened?"
"Sliced her finger," Angela says.
"Can I see it?" he asks, shutting off the faucet.
"It's seriously fine," I tell him.
He gently grabs my wrist and examines my thumb.
"Do we need to call 9-1-1?" Angela teases. I tell her to shut up, but kind of appreciate her snark because it gives me something to focus on other than the fact that Edward is holding my hand.
"Can I have a Band-Aid?" I ask, looking at Edward.
"Yeah, they're in the bathroom." He keeps my hand in his and guides me out of the room.
Once we're inside, he shuts the door. I hop up on the counter, watching as he digs through the cabinet. He grabs a bottle of alcohol, some cotton balls, and a box of Band-Aids.
He stands between my legs and grabs my hand, dabbing the alcohol-covered cotton on my finger.
"This isn't necessary," I tell him, watching his face.
"Of course it is," he says quietly, concentrating. "Don't want it to get infected."
"That wouldn't happen."
"Not gonna take any chances," he teases, tossing the cotton in the trash. "Now comes the big decision: which Ninja Turtles Band-Aid do you want?"
My head tips back and I laugh. "Surprise me." I close my eyes as he bandages me up, opening them again once he's done.
"I chose the pizza because I couldn't stand the pressure of deciding between the turtles."
"Right. And you didn't want to choose the wrong one, because then I'd just judge you."
"Exactly."
We fall into silence and his smile slowly fades. I'm suddenly too aware that we're alone.
"Bella, I..." He sighs, running an agitated hand through his hair. His gaze softens and I stare down at my lap.
"Stop looking at me like that," I say quietly.
"Like what?"
"Like I'm your girlfriend."
He brings his hand up to my face, running his thumb across my cheek, forcing me to look at him again. "I don't want to."
My skin burns and my stomach flips and it's too much.
"I can't…" I frown, shaking my head. "I can't do this right now. Okay? Like… you're too funny and sweet and you have Ninja Turtles Band-Aids. It's not fair. I like you, you asshole, and it's not fair."
"I'm sorry," he says, dropping his hand and taking a step back.
"Me too," I mumble, sliding off the counter and walking out.
Please don't yell at me.
Thanks for reading.
Kim deserves a medal for all her help.