Author's note: Thank you for your kind reviews! I hope I still am staying as close to in character as possible...
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I was fairly sure that leaving the country would not have been an OK date idea by Charlie's standards
I was fairly sure that leaving the country would not have been an OK date idea by Charlie's standards. But we had never really established those sorts of boundaries. Plus, Vancouver was 6 hours away, when you're driving at a reasonable, law-abiding speed limit.
Two and a half hours to Vancouver? We made great – no incredible – time. Edward was so hard on his car's engine – not that I know anything about car engines, of course – but to always drive that fast… well, then again Rosalie apparently was the brilliant mechanic in the family, although Edward knew almost as much as she did. I'm guessing she kept his car in top-notch condition.
Dinner was delicious. I had some sort of pasta, spinach and veal concoction. We were going to split it, he had told our waitress, who seemed disappointed at the notion. He always had that effect on the wait staff, as if they couldn't believe he was with me.
As if they expected him to suddenly up and leave me, in the middle of our date, for them.
And it wasn't just the women waitresses, either. I'd even seen a guy or two dazzled by him. Guys. Usually, despite his utterly charming, pleasant demeanor, guys seemed to loathe Edward instantly. It was like they knew he never had to work for his six-pack, and that he barely had to wink at girls to get their attention and then they practically threw themselves at him.
Like our waitress. Who had almost tripped bringing the plate of pasta, and almost spilled my Coke on me in the process. Edward, with his lightning-fast reflexes, made the quick save. Is it considered reflexes, though, when you can read the person's thoughts and recognize when they're about to misstep out of distraction?
We didn't split the dish, of course. I quickly realized how ravenous I was – I hadn't eaten since a peanut butter sandwich at lunch – and practically devoured the entirety of the dish myself.
Edward simply sat across from me, in our secluded little booth, and watched me with a charming, disarming grin. Our knees were almost touching. I felt so drawn to his presence that I almost sat on the edge of my seat to brush my legs against his. I knew he'd pull back, though, so I restrained myself. I didn't want that little twinge of rejection, even if he wasn't rejecting me…he was just resisting to avoid enticing his second nature.
See, I did have self-control. I was working on it. He would be proud…or endlessly amused. Possibly both.
He had made reservations, I discovered, weeks in advance. He had been planning this little surprise foray north of the border for over a month. He still hadn't told me what we were doing in Vancouver, though. It wasn't like this was his favorite restaurant. He didn't eat human food.
I had only been to Vancouver once, as a child, with my mom. We had come here to go…shopping, I think. And just to see the sights. It was a beautiful city, and at night, the lights glittered fantastically.
After dinner, we walked along the cool streets, and I breathed in the faintly damp air. It was completely cloudy out, but still pretty light out. The sun set so late up here, keeping a grey illumination in the skies more often than not.
We were going to take the SkyTrain to…wherever. It didn't matter. I wasn't paying all too much attention. I was just enjoying the sights, and enjoying Edward's arm around me. The next train would be a few minutes, and so we stood in the cool evening, my hands tucked into the pockets of his tan coat.
He suddenly whipped his phone out. Though it was on silent, he must have known someone was calling. He flashed me an apologetic look, and stepped a few feet away, talking so quietly and quickly that I couldn't make a out anything he said.
I stared out across the tracks, charmed by the city.
Someone stumbled heavily into my personal space, leering at me. I recoiled back, startled, as I looked at the brawny bulk of someone who was decidedly not Edward, and decidedly smelling of alcohol.
"Hey, sexy," he greeted, slurring a little. "Where you off to?"
Wide-eyed, I opened my mouth to speak. My mind, flashing back to that night in Port Angeles when Edward had saved me, panicked and my heart rate leapt instantly.
"She's with me," Edward appeared suddenly, his voice cold and stiff. His fingertips pressed lightly at the small of my back, protective, if not a tad possessive. I shifted closer to him, grateful he appeared when he did.
The man sullenly eyed us, as if trying to weigh his chances. I jutted my chin out in a half-challenge, reaching up to rest my hand lightly against Edward's rock-solid six-pack.
I watched Edward glare the guy down, annoyance clearly written across his striking, perfect features.
"Leave, now," he commanded in a steely voice. I watched the man half-skulk, half-stumble off.
I felt the intensity of the tawny eyes gazing down on me before I even looked up. "Are you all right?"
I swallowed, pressing my face into his chest. I was partly embarrassed that I panicked so immediately, when Edward was literally only a few feet away. It was foolish. I was safe here, safe with him, safer than I'd ever been.
Safer than I'd ever be.
His cold, stone arms wrapped around me securely, cradling my close and locking me there. He rested his chin atop my head. "I shouldn't have stepped away," he whispered, apologetically. "Forgive me."
Without even looking up, I smacked my palm against his unforgiving chest. "Shut up," I growled. "You were three feet away, for 30 seconds."
"I won't leave your side again tonight. You always did have a penchant for trouble, Bella," he mused, dryly amused. "I don't understand how any one person can have such a draw on the forces of danger. How you survived to 17 is beyond me."
"Hey, I never had this problem until I came to Forks," I protested.
"Is that so?" He didn't believe me.
I rolled my eyes. "Believe what you will."
Despite myself, I couldn't help but grin up at him, tilting back into his chest again.
And then he glanced down at me, amber eyes dancing. "See, I told you, you dazzle people, too."
I giggled, poked him in the ribs. "I do not. Sketchy drunks do not count."
"You're dazzling me right now," he clarified.
"Ah," I said, lost in his gaze. I felt that familiar flush creep up. He leaned to press his marble lips against my forehead, holding them there.
We shared a smile. His crooked grin took my breath away.
I remembered why he had stepped away for the briefest span of moments. "So, who called?"
He was a little too casual in response, and I noticed the subtle tightening around his eyes. "Oh, just Alice. It was nothing important."
" 'Just Alice'?" I repeated, instantly on guard.
"Yes. She saw something about Jasper," he elaborated.
"And?" I demanded.
"She wanted to know what he was thinking."
"And?" I demanded again.
"Pushy tonight, Bella," he teased, his fingers combing through my hair. "And we discussed the options."
He kissed the tip of my nose, and then my forehead. "It's nothing for you to worry about."
He feathered a kiss on my lips. I gasped at the sensation, feeling tingles race down my spine and back up.
"You think you're being so clever, Edward," I gritted out through shallow breathing, trying so hard to stay focused. "But really, I see right through you."
"Oh?" He arched a bronze brow. He leaned in again, brushing his cold lips against my cheekbone, dragging them along my jawline. A cool kiss touched my earlobe, and my betraying body shivered.
He started to kiss his way down my throat, punctuating every time his lips broke from my skin with a word.
"And…what…do…you…see?" After the last word, his previously close-lipped assault on my senses turned wicked. His lips parted, and Edward swirled his tongue over the spot where my neck met my shoulder.
I gasped, my hands having somehow come up to seize the tops of his shoulders in a deathgrip. I was practically panting, and my knees were definitely quaking. It was no fair that he could have such an obvious effect on me.
His icy tongue traced back up my throat, right along where my pulse pounded, and I barely reigned in the moan that threatened to tear from my lips. It came out a strangled whimper instead.
Our lips met.
And then the SkyTrain whooshed into to the station. I groaned in frustration, and Edward smirked, looking particularly smug. Although, he seemed a little short of breath, too.
Too quickly, he stepped back, offered me his arm. "Shall we?"
I grinned up at him, looping my arm through his proffered one. "Let's go."
We weren't the only people on the train, but as I nestled against his side and gazed out the window, the other passengers faded from my awareness. All I could think of was Edward's arm loosely draped over my shoulders, drawing me closer to his lean frame.
If he had brought me to Vancouver simply to take me out to dinner and snuggle with me on public transportation, I would be perfectly, ecstatically happy with just that. I already was floating on Cloud 9…even in heels.
But Edward was far too perfect for this to be the pinnacle event of the evening. Perfect was the understatement of the century. I still have no idea what I ever did to maybe even possible deserve the teensiest bit of him, let alone all of his stunning, majestic, beautiful, polite, smoldering self.
It was only a few stops to our exit, and I reluctantly had to pry myself away from his side to disembark. He led the way down to the street, never releasing my hand. He seemed to glow with such exquisite happiness.
We strolled down the steps to the sidewalk, now hand in hand. I loved the feeling of his long, chilly fingers twined with mine, and I swung our interlaced hands back and forth, keeping with the lazy pace of our walk.
No words were necessary.
"Ooof!" My heel – damn high heels – caught on a crack in the sidewalk and I stumbled, caught instantaneously by the brace of Edward's steely arms.
My wide-eyed surprised look met his chagrined one. I chewed on my lower lip and sighed in semi-resignation. I wondered briefly if, when I became a vampire, I would gain that impossible grace and fluidity of movement with which the entirety of the Cullen clan (and all vampires) seemed to possess.
With my luck, probably not.
"So, where are we going, again? I hope we get there soon," I grumbled. "Damn heels."
He chuckled, reluctantly releasing me from his arms so we could continue our saunter.
"Don't worry. I won't let you break your ankle on the way. It's right ahead," he assured me. "Shall I tell you now?"
"It's why I asked, silly."
He practically glowed, stopping us, catching my other hand in his. He lifted both to his lips, and kissed the tops of each, his warm stare never deviating from mine. Perfection. If there was perfection to be found in a man on earth, Edward Cullen was it.
Not that he was a man, really, but that was beside the point. The golden streetlamp seemed to catch in his liquid topaz eyes, and the rest of light cast his face into sharp, beautiful relief. Edward was glorious by day, and it was only fitting that night should make him all the more beautiful. But I disliked the darkness, for it kept more of him from my sight.
My heart rate was beginning to pick up as I roamed his face, searching for an inkling of a clue to our destination.
"The Vancouver Symphony Orchestra is playing some selections of Debussy tonight," he finally revealed.
My jaw dropped open in surprise. I had been effectively rendered speechless.
He rewarded my astonishment with a full-throated chuckle. "You're pleased?"
A long finger reached to close my gaping mouth. As soon as the cool press of his fingertip disappeared, my jaw flopped open again.
"Pleased?" I echoed, finding my voice. "Edward, you're amazing!"
He flashed perfect, bright whites down at me. "I believe you've mentioned that before, yes."
"I've always wanted to hear Debussy played live," I continued. "How did you – Alice?"
Edward shrugged minimally, trying to downplay his motivations and still seem casual. "She saw you here, loving it, after I made the decision of course. Your classical CD collection reminded me that Carlisle and Esme have season tickets to the orchestra, not that they venture up here often. When I checked the schedules, and saw Debussy on the concert series, I thought it would be a reasonable excuse to leave town."
"A reasonable excuse," I repeated, shaking my head. "Wow."
"I didn't think Charlie would let me take you out of the country, even if it was to hear your favorite classical composer played live. So I figured it was best to leave him in the dark. Better to beg for forgiveness than ask permission. We are having a wonderful evening in Port Angeles, aren't we?"
"Boy, are we ever," I agreed enthusiastically. We gazed into each other's eyes for I don't know how long. Not that long, because I stretched up on my tiptoes, suddenly impatient.
"Kiss me, Edward?" my voice had a definite begging quality to it.
"How could I resist?" he murmured, voice velvet as always, releasing one hand to slide it up my arm, cool fingertips brushing across my throat to cup my chin.
Dizzily, I thought to myself that him kissing me was not going to help my clumsiness-in-heels problem. If he kept it up, he would have to carry me to the performance.
Oh, I wanted more. That was pretty much the last coherent thought I had before his tongue slipped into my mouth.
.+.+.+ .+.+.+ .+.+.+.+.+.+
Our seats were perfect, on the upper level, with a perfect view of the stage. I was enchanted with the elaborate, gilded performance hall.
Edward's lips were at the shell of my ear. "If you like the Orpheum, you would have loved the Chicago theatre back in its heyday. My family had a private box."
I smiled. "You'll have to take me there some day."
"Some day," he agreed. I could hear his deep inhalation, felt him nuzzle my hair slightly as he savored my scent.
The soft cacophony of the orchestra tuning their instruments washed over us. I peered over the edge (our seats were in the front row of the upper balcony) and watched intently as graceful musicians prepared for the show. Edward was watching too, the hint of a smile on his lips.
"Do you know why I like Debussy?" his voice was a low, husky murmur in my ear.
I shook my head, spellbound by the scene below."No. Tell me."
He pulled away slightly, and I looked to him, settling into the butterscotch depths of his gaze. His cool hand clasped mine gently.
"The very first symphony I ever went to," he said softly, "was Debussy."
I waited patiently. He gave me a beautiful, kind of crooked half-smile.
"It was in November. The air was crisp, because the leaves were changing and the wind would whirl through and swirl fallen leaves in explosions of crinkly reds, golds and browns."
I was hanging on his every word, mesmerized by his gorgeous face. By his simple story, vivid in its descriptions.
"Thanksgiving was just around the corner. It was November 19th, if my memory serves me correctly. I loved autumn, and I was terribly excited to finally go to the symphony."
He paused.
"My mother took me. I was nine," he finally continued, watching me closely, as if he were expecting me to be horrified by that little admission. I wasn't. I was charmed, imagining a little Edward practically bouncing off the walls from excitement. And I was touched that he was sharing this bit of his old life, his human life, with me. He so rarely opened up about it.
His eyes dropped from mine for a second to study out hands, and then his bright gaze was back on mine, intently, as though he were trying to probe my thoughts.
"I had never felt so grown up in my entire life, Bella," he confessed. "My father always took my mother, and I would always beg to go along, never wanting to stay with the nanny. And finally, one day, he agreed to give me his ticket and take my mother to the symphony. I wore my best tuxedo, and my father had taken me into his study and smoothed my lapels and told me how it was my job to escort my mother, and that it was my job to make sure nothing happened to her. I promised him that I would behave and keep my mother safe."
I couldn't help but smile at the thought. How endearing, a tiny Edward in a tuxedo, promising to keep his mother safe. His expression seemed to warm, seeing me smile.
"And she looked beautiful that night," Edward said. "I'll never forget it. She wore the most fashionable cream dress at the time, accented with a burnt orange that set off her bronze hair. Her hair was elaborately pinned back, and her eyes – my eyes were the same color emerald – just sparkled as we traveled downtown. She was an incredibly elegant woman. She would have loved you and your clumsiness."
My eyes flashed him a sarcastic thanks, but I was unable to actually defend myself against his teasing barb.
He tipped his head in acknowledgement. "So we went and saw the Chicago Symphony Orchestra perform the Suite bergamasque and selections from his newest composition, Images."
I couldn't even imagine hearing a brand-new composition by Debussy fresh and live like that. To have lived in that time. How fanciful. How wonderful.
"It was the only time I ever got to go to symphony with my mother," his voice had dropped so softly that I wasn't sure he'd even spoken. "It's why I love to go. It's almost as if I can see her, hear her laughter, feel her smooth my hair."
My throat suddenly constricted with emotion. Had he really just admitted that?
But the way he was suddenly staring down at our hands again made me confident that he had. I reached over with my free hand to cup his cheek, guide his gaze back to me.
"Edward," I murmured, blinking back the light veil of tears that threatened to spill. My heart broke for him.
Instantly he realized what he'd done. "I'm sorry," the words tumbled from his marble lips. "It's a happy memory, really. I didn't mean to upset –"
"Shhh," I cut him off, pressing my index finger to his lips. "No. I'm so glad you told me. It was a beautiful story."
His hesitant gaze bored into mine.
I raised our joined hands to my lips and kissed the tops of his knuckles, one by one. "I'm so glad you told me," I repeated.
Either the lighting just dimmed, or his eyes just darkened, and suddenly I felt much too hot. My blood seemed to simmer under his gaze.
Suddenly the cool fingers of his left hand were sliding around to cup the back of my neck, and we were drifting together. I inhaled his delicious scent, my lips parting just slightly in anticipation.
He kissed me slow and tender, a gentle exploration of my lips. Edward's tongue, smooth as ice, glided along my bottom lip, and I parted my lips a bit wider in invitation.
He pressed closer, slightly pushing me back into the seat now and yet simultaneously almost crushing me to him. It was a thorough kiss. More thorough than he'd ever been before. My head was spinning dizzily.
And then he was withdrawing, earning the softest of protests from me. My vision swam before my eyes as I hungrily sucked in a desperate breath.
"Thank you." He nuzzled my collarbone, pausing to listen to my heartbeat. Somehow my fingers had twined their way into his thick, soft hair. Somehow he let me, and it was all I could do to hold still.
I silently gaped, trying to calm my jagged breathing. He had such an effect on me and my poor senses.
My eyes fluttered shut. The softest of cold kisses touched the hollow of my throat, and his hands were pulling mine from his hair. He withdrew, though he kept hold of one of my hands.
The symphony's first movement began.
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Next post will be Friday night! See you all then ... remember, if you loved/hated/have any range of emotions whatsoever about my story so far, I'd love to hear them!