Disclaimer: I do not own, only play. These are Stephanie Meyer's characters.
"Why the fuck you would send that picture to Leah?" Rose whispered loudly, conscious of the late time.
Bella slipped off her heels and tossed them into her shoe bin, peeling off her jeans and sweater afterwards. Alice stayed silent by her desk chair.
"I thought it was pretty."
"Sure, if I drew a puppy, or horse, or a tree," Rose rambled, standing near the far end of the room against the wall, "But not when…." she trailed off.
Bella stopped and looked over at Rose, as did Alice, when the air suddenly went damp.
Taking a short breath, Bella bunched up her bed-wear in her hands. "Look, I'm sorry. It was none of my business. You're right."
Rose didn't say anything back, but dropped her arms into more of a submissive gesture.
Alice wrinkled her nose. "But the kiss though."
"Was a mistake." Rose talked with her hands a lot.
"Are things awkward now?" Alice asked.
"I don't even know; she ran out of there like a bat out of hell, saying she had 'homework and shit' to do," Rose ran her hands through her hair, choosing to sit below Alice's bed post.
"I suppose her reaction isn't too far off from how I would've handled it," Alice shrugged, turning in her desk chair and switching on her little lamp.
Rose's eyes squinted up at her. "You'd love if someone like me were to kiss you," Rose bantered sarcastically, earning a chuckle from Bella. "It'll probably be the most action you get while here anyway," Rose muttered in a lower voice.
But it was obvious Alice heard. "You're a bitch, you know that? 'Oh, prude Alice.' Yeah, like I don't get that enough from every fucking student that I don't even know. You're a rock star friend, Rosalie." Her use of Rose's full name was not lost on the blonde haired girl who suddenly went wide eyed.
Bella looked over at the two girls as well, wondering if maybe it was time to end the discussion there.
Rose took the silence as the notion to leave, and so she stood up and headed for the door. As she did so, she motioned for Bella to follow her out the door, into the hallway. Alice climbed into her bed and didn't watch as the two girls left the room.
In the hallway, Bella quietly closed the door behind them and crossed her arms.
"What?"
Rose swallowed, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Leah knows about Emmett. She saw me texting him."
"Okay?"
"It's nothing big but she thinks—well, thought, he was my boyfriend. I got mad at her for it. I think that's how things got left on an awkward note."
Bella pulled her lips into a thin line. "No, Rose, I think you kissing her did that."
"No, I know. I just mean, things are just… really fucking hard for me right now."
The hard exterior Rose had once prided herself on started to break; she wiped away some tears that started to drip down her cheek.
"I lied. My parents don't actually know. My dad would kill me if he knew. The first girl I actually allow myself to have feelings for is a Christian. I somehow really do like Emmett, which makes things more confusing because I thought I had figured this all out last year but apparently I'm still lost. I'm just, like…" Rose paused, trying to pull off an attitude of not caring, "fucking alone." But really, she just cared so much.
In the midst of the silence, Bella tugged on Rose's sleeve. "You're not alone."
The sad girl wiped her tears and managed to pull her steel wall exterior back over her front so Bella couldn't exploit any more pity on her.
"Tell Alice I'm sorry, okay?" With that, Rose walked back to her room.
Alice Mason had never been kissed until she was 19.
It wasn't because she was a prude and it wasn't because her family had weird objections and it wasn't because she had been afraid to.
It was because, in the words of Alice Mason, "Guys didn't like fat girls."
She was 18 when she had Gastric Sleeve surgery. In one year, she had dropped more than a hundred pounds. She started college late and went in without anyone knowing of her prior health conditions.
She kissed a guy in her economics course; a guy that told her she was pretty. Something that she was never told by a guy before. But the kiss tasted disgusting on her mouth.
And it was because of the fact that she never really ate much, or never really felt comfortable around guys or never felt comfortable when Bella and Rose talked about sex, that made Alice feel inferior every time someone called her a prude.
Because Alice Mason had a self-loathing problem that not even bariatric surgery could fix.
But when Alice had found of a loophole of fitting in, she figured it was better this way than sticking out college alone. And the loophole was finding Bella and Rose.
Alice had figured that since Rose had problems with her sexuality, causing reasons for her not to fit in, and since Bella had problems with her looks, causing reasons for her not to fit in, it made Alice's problems with insecurity a little more manageable when it came to her not fitting it.
Because nothing felt better than knowing you weren't alone with your problems. Even when the problems weren't shared; they were still problems.
But it was Rose's comment that hurt Alice the most.
Why?
Well, it had come from someone Alice dubbed as a friend.
And nothing felt worse than having a friend stab at your problems in effort to downplay their's.
Bella woke up late the next morning, finding Saturday a day well wasted in bed. When she woke, Alice wasn't there and she could feel the silence in the room. As much as she wanted to take advantage of it, Bella dragged herself out of bed to get to the mail room.
Before she left the room, she scribbled on a sticky note and stuck it to Alice's bed.
It read: Rose says sorry.
While not using her car in college, Bella's father agreed to pay for the car insurance for the time being. In exchange, he asked for Bella to pay for her own cell phone bill. So she was expecting this in the mail today. While sifting through her very shallow stack of letters, her phone rang with a phone number she wasn't familiar with.
Bella wedged the phone between her cheek and shoulder. "Hello?"
Someone cleared their throat. "Um, hello, Bella? It's Jasper. Whitlock. We met at the club, that one night."
Bella was taken aback. "Oh. Yes, I remember you."
She could feel the awkward tension between the phone lines. Jasper was sure he felt it too, because the only picture that came to mind was the one he saw of Bella on Edward's phone in a very… provocative manner. And his cheeks went pink to acknowledge how he felt.
"Hi."
"Hi," her greeting dragged out on her tongue.
"I'm just calling—well, mostly because I can't get in touch with Edward for the life of me. He never answers work related calls on Saturdays so it's not like I expected him to but it's kind of important. I think he forgot to mark down on his invitation that he was taking a 'plus one'—obviously you—so I was just double-checking to make sure you will be attending a Friday from now on the 25th?"
His rushed and yet, aggravated, tone had Bella almost jumbled for words. Mostly, she seemed confused, and so she set down her mail on the counter of the mail room to take hold of her phone in her hand.
"Um, Jasper. Mr. Whitlock—"
"Yeah, Jasper's fine."
"Jasper. I don't really know what you're talking about. Attending what?"
There was a break on the phone, and then the sound of papers shuffling on Jasper's end. He recollected his thoughts.
"Um, Sun-Time's Summer Gala? I was sure Edward told you, I, uh…."
There was more shuffling of papers.
Realizing she was chewing on her nail bits, she pulled back her hand from her mouth. She looked down at her wildly long, midnight blue nails and stopped. She brought her fingers up to her pale lips.
Bella made a decision.
"You know what, Jasper, yeah, I uh, I remember. Sorry; late start this morning. The Gala, a Friday from now. Got it. I will be attending." She looked at her nails once more before collecting her mail and exiting the mail room.
Jasper's sigh was one of relief but gave off a cool undertone in his voice in effort to not sound panicked. "Oh, good. Thanks; I'll make sure then to put you down."
"Great. Thank you."
"No problem. Well, then, I guess I will see you there, Bella. Have a nice day."
"Hey, Jasper!" Bella quickly asked.
"Yeah?"
"Edward didn't give me all the details about it. Would you mind shooting me a quick email with a time and place and such?"
Jasper didn't think much of it when he easily agreed, wrote down her email and hung up. He sent out the email to her, along with sending out the envelopes of the guests who would be dining that evening.
And Bella's name sat right next to Edward's on the guest list, written in black ink with a permanent impression.
Edward was always a button-down kind of guy. It was his casual. It was his formal. He went out on dates with Bella in button-downs, he went to seminars in button-downs. He went to work in button-downs, with a suit jacket on top, but nonetheless, he always wore button-downs.
Tonight he was in a tuxedo, accompanied with a bow tie and a suit vest, leaving his casual button-downs somewhere in his closet back at home.
He carried himself well in a room amongst others who either gave you a pass or fail grade. Throat-cutters, as his father would label them. They were at the top of the pyramid in the Sun-Time's reign. Carlisle's bosses.
Edward had met them all once; it was a good meeting. They liked him. Said he had chutzpah. He was not too sure why 'chutzpah' had anything to do with Edward's actual column but it wasn't meant as a derogatory term by them.
But tonight, Edward was looking for more than just an adjective from them. He wanted approval.
The evening event was held at the Hilton Chicago Hotel, in the Great Hall. The exquisitely large space was scaled from head to toe in purples and golds; the staircase embroidered with architectural design along with the beautiful detailed painting on the ceiling, it made for perfect location.
It was his father that had come up to Edward first and handed him a drink. It was water. How keen. But Edward drank it nonetheless. It was when his father had walked away did he swap it for a something off a waiter's tray.
Emmett chatted with him briefly, mentioning Bella's absence. Edward's reply was chopped and transitory, something about her being busy with last minute class assignments.
To his surprise, Emmett did not have a date either. He was alone. Edward half expected to see Rose here; half expected. He was well aware of the sort of conundrum his friend was in. And he was eventually filled in on the details of their apparent 'sleepover' the other night as well.
Edward knew Emmett McCarthy was a complete gentleman. He was large and overly sarcastic and had a very odd—somewhat, dry—sense of humor. But Emmett has never been anything less than polite. So in terms of the sleepover, there was nothing 'juicy' about it.
Some drinks, and then Rose slept on the couch.
But Emmett spoke of her like Edward somehow imagined he spoke of Bella. Focused, detailed, and almost dreamy. Jasper would claim Edward never spoke of Bella at all, but that's because Edward never spoke about her at work. He just chewed Emmett's ear off on weekends.
Emmett's perception of the relationship between him and Rose may have sounded a bit over zealous for the reality of it. But it looked as if they were close friends rather than dating. By the way Emmett held his own tonight, Edward thought maybe he had realized this too. That's why Emmett didn't invite Rose.
When Edward asked if he was okay, Emmett patted him on the back and shrugged off the question naturally. He distracted Edward by asking him if he had gotten any texts from Bella lately. He asked this with a smirk.
Edward was confused. "Plenty. Why?"
Emmett McCarthy then smiled for a second time, knowing his own secret he shared with Jasper, and again, shrugged off the question. He left Edward tangled.
But it was Jasper's odd dilemma that really had him at a loss for words. Now Edward had only had a glass and half of champagne but it hadn't disturbed his hearing.
"What?" Edward lowered his glass to look at Jasper more clearly.
"I said, you didn't tell me Bella changed her hair. It looks nice." Jasper's cheeks sparked a bit of pink again.
In means to diffuse the confusion, he set his drink down completely. Maybe alcohol was a bad asset to start the night off with.
"… Bella didn't change her hair color."
"Uh…" Jasper Whitlock's expression grew weary, "Yeah. I just saw her…."
"Saw her? You just saw her?"
"Yeah, at the top of the stair case. Edward, you okay?" Jasper asked but Edward had already started heading towards the large staircase to the second level, "I mean, you guys came together, right?" But Jasper's last question faded out as Edward went out of ear shot.
Nothing was making sense. Why would Bella be here? He… didn't invite her. She didn't know about tonight.
It was impossible for her to have known as how else would she have gotten information on this event other than from him? And though he hated—was repulsed even—that his father asked him not to bring Bella, he still complied anyway.
His father wasn't shy about his reasons either. They were obvious.
"She's a little eccentric for the image of Sun-Time. She'll stick out like a sore thumb. I'm sorry, Edward, but the big timers are going to be there. I won't have her ruin your chances of impressing them."
"Who I date should have no effect on my abilities to impress people. Who I date is also none of their business."
"Edward, please. See reason. It's just one night. This event doesn't even require you to bring a date. It's not like she was invited and I'm excluding her. This is just your work for that night and I'd like you to be alone to do it. That's all."
"Dad—"
"That's all, Edward."
She was where Jasper had said she was, at the top of the stair case. And she was, as Jasper had seemingly left out, the most breathtaking thing in the hotel. And they were in the Hilton Chicago Hotel.
Somehow though, the breath that had been ripped from his rib cage was not solely due to the fact that she looked beautiful in her pearly cream, floor length gown but rather, that everything about her… was wrong.
Her hair was no longer lavender.
It was dark brown. Shorter, too; several inches had been taken off.
Her nails were short, to the bit, and bare. No nail polish.
Her makeup was neutral, almost non-existent. A little mascara, a little blush.
No lipstick.
No septum piercing.
No visible tattoos (from what the dress covered).
And it was all wrong.
Because of the simple fact that Edward had almost mistaken her for someone else, it was all wrong.
Before he started up the staircase, Bella spotted him from above. She smiled to him and reached out her arm, twiddling her fingers at him for him to join her. Edward's feet slowly found themselves walking up the steps, one by one. The closer he got to her, the sooner he realized who exactly she was talking to.
Mackie Aarons. Editor-in-chief of Sun-Time's paper. The main throat-cutter.
However, her expression was far from threatening for her smile grew wider towards the young man.
When Edward reached the final step, Bella hooked her arm around his waist while cupping his cheek with her other hand. She gave him a chaste kiss.
"Edward Cullen. You didn't tell me this little gem right here was with you?"
Quite stunned, Edward looked down to Bella absently smiling, like nothing out of the ordinary, and offered a pat to his back.
He found his words timely, as he usually did. Even in off circumstances. "Oh, yes, well, I just wanted to keep her all to myself."
Mackie Aarons, a woman well into her fifties', with long aging hair smiled before the young couple. Her eyes roamed over both of them equally, and then with a narrow eye on Edward alone. And it seemed to her that they were nothing more than a prized couple of both charm and grace.
From the first level, Carlisle Cullen wore a different expression of surprise than his son had. Because before he could even feel anger towards the idea that his son disobeyed him, he was met with misperception as a girl he thought he knew did not appear to be the same girl.
But with older age came smarts and though his son may have been shell-shocked, maybe even a little naïve, Carlisle knew exactly of the motivation behind the smoke screen Bella Swan had pulled tonight. So he smirked into his champagne flute for now, and waded out the rest of the night without interferences with his son.
Back at the top of the stair case, Edward and Bella excused themselves, bringing attention to their spots at the dining tables. But on the way to the tables, Edward pulled Bella aside, away from the public.
Down a hallway, away from the Great Hall, Edward pushed Bella up against the wall. He kissed her hard.
"What are you doing here?" he asked in between breaths.
"What did you do to your hair?" He pressed up against her stomach, holding the side of her face in his hands.
Though his persistence was almost too hard to detach from, Bella managed to unhook herself from him and step back.
"Get off me."
Edward retreated, with a perplexed look.
"Jasper called me a week ago. Said something about 'forgetting my name on the invitation'." Running a hand through her still very unfamiliar hair, she proceeded to move further away from him.
Edward wiped his lip, still feeling the presence of her mouth on his. "I can explain this."
Bella looked away, letting out a comprised laugh. "Edward, I don't care about getting invited to your fucking party. I'm not some cling-on girlfriend."
"Then why are you here… crashing it?" Again, there seemed to have been no clear answers.
"Why didn't you tell me about it?" she asked with more sincerity.
Inhaling slowly, Edward rubbed the back of his neck. When he took a step forward, she didn't move, but she didn't invite his close proximity either.
"I don't know, it was just some work event that I had to go to… I didn't think it was a big deal worth mentioning."
He knew she knew it was a bullshit answer. The location of the Gala was a buster for one thing.
Bella gathered up the ends of her dress. "Edward, you talked about honesty in this relationship. If you're copping out on that agreement, then I'm leaving." And as she started to go, Edward trotted after her, grabbing her arm to stop her.
"Bella, wait," he slid his hands down her arms before removing physical contact completely, "My father told me not to tell you. He didn't want you to come."
Bella didn't ask why because she already knew.
"I knew your mother didn't like me. I didn't think your father felt the same way."
"Hey now, that's not true. And regardless of anything, it had nothing to do with how my father feels about you personally."
Bella sniffled, rubbing at her face when she felt a tickle at her tear ducks. She didn't want to do this here.
"Yeah, I know. It's about how I look," she spat.
He knew what she meant, referring to the way she looked not too long ago, how he remembered her as. But the words sounded wrong when looking at her now. Edward had been so used to the way she was before that now she looked unusual. Beautiful, but unusual.
"You look stunning," he said quietly.
"That's not what I want to hear right now," she murmured. Bella swallowed hard and took a deep breath, letting go of the ends of her dress.
"It's true."
Bella shared a look with him, meeting his typically punctual manner but finding it unsettling. After a minute, she looked away. He looked different too; she had never seen him so dressed up. She had never seen him dressed down either, just simply in that medium of button-downs and work pants.
"I feel out of my skin," Bella said slowly.
Taking small steps, he closed the distance between the two until he could touch her face. When he did, he cupped it gently and pulled her eyes to his. "I like you no matter how you look."
And this kiss was softer but with less lust than the one before. It was meant as a comforter, nothing more. Bella didn't really invite the kiss but didn't pull away either; Edward sighed into her neck as he dropped his hands.
He pulled back.
"I'm kind of glad you didn't get rid of these," he referred to her nipple piercings that barely rose from underneath the fabric of her dress.
"Why did you change?"
He had seen her without her makeup before, that wasn't the issue. She washed her makeup off plenty of times when she stayed nights at his apartment. But the hair color, the pale makeup, the short nails… it was a different person standing in front of him. So why the change? If coming to the event, why not come full blown in her usual apparel? To prove a point, so to speak.
"Why did you change?" he asked again.
"I think I wanted to know how you would react to it."
And it was the most honest answer of the night.
I think I have an aversion to making really dreamy Edwards in my stories... hmm
No more exotic Bella. hmm?
Hope all is well. :)
