Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the Twilight Saga
I awoke with the sound of the rain, pattering on my shut window. Or perhaps it was simply because I really had to pee. Whatever the reason, my eyes were soon snapped open, and whizzing around the room despite protests from my aching head.
I felt like my brain had been steamrolled, flat and sore. I rolled to face the centre of my room and was thoroughly surprised.
Edward was standing, still as a rock, on the mahogany floor, staring at me intently.
"Well, hello there." I said, wincing at the volume of my voice.
"Did you sleep well?" He asked in his sexily serene voice.
"I can't really remember. I can't remember much from last night at all, but I gather from my hangover that I had the Halloween party." I tried to remember what had passed, a couple images of me curled around the toilet floated through my brain. Another thought occurred then, which would explain Edward being here. "Wait, did we…" My voice trailed off suggestively.
"No, we did not get involved in any activities like that." He said before my sentence was even out.
"Damn." I muttered. "Although, if we had been busy, I would have preferred to remember it, anyways."
"I stayed here to ensure that you wouldn't vomit again, or do anything…rash" He explained, lowering his eyes.
I was touched. I was only ever horny and annoying around him, and yet he had stayed here to make sure I didn't get hurt. "Wow, thanks Edward, that's incredible thoughtful. Most guys would just take advantage of me when I'm wasted, and have in the past."
He looked uncomfortable for a moment. "Yes, you said something like that last night to Emmet and me."
"Oh. Emmet was here? That's nice." I said, pulling back the covers and stepping out of bed, stretching my long legs.
"Yes. You seemed pleased to see him." For some reason Edward's voice had an edge, and his nostrils flared.
I noticed then that I was in my pajamas; I hadn't thought myself capable of putting on clothes while drunk – only removing them.
"Emmet and I put you in those, Carlisle said over the phone that you would sleep better away from your vomit." He explained, looking away as though hiding embarrassment.
I smirked. "I bet you enjoyed that."
He laughed too. "Only as much as I should have."
"I'm sure." I murmured walking over to my closet.
"Okay, a little more than appropriate." He said lightly.
"Good." I answered as I pulled out a high waisted light green skirt and dark purple high neck sleeveless shirt. I went to my drawer, grabbed underwear and a bra – Edward looked pointedly away – and walked to my bathroom.
"You prude." I called from inside the bathroom.
Once I had peed, I washed my hands, brushed my teeth, stripped, and stepped into the shower. I was pro at quick showers, having had lots of experience in places with water shortages.
Once I was done, I put on my clothes, pulled my wet tangled hair in a messy bun, and stepped out of the bathroom.
"You're still here." I stated, shocked.
He shrugged then spoke sarcastically. "I was making sure you wouldn't slip in the shower or something."
I rolled my eyes, but bit my full lip in a sly smile. "You just wanted an excuse to walk in on me naked."
He raised his symmetrical chin arrogantly, "I really doubt it."
I sighed, still marveling at the fact that he had been considerate enough to stay over night and not rape me. I walked downstairs and motioned for him to follow me.
In the kitchen I cut up a banana and blueberries, and poured those on top of granola, with hemp, ground flaxseed and oat milk. I sat down on a stool at the island in the kitchen, and returned my gaze to Edward.
"Do you want some food?" I asked, recalling that I had never seen him eat anything.
"No, thank you." He murmured, sitting across from me and resting his forearms on the granite countertop.
"Manorexic" I mumbled. He chuckled and picked up an apple, and scrutinized it as though looking for an imperfection.
I scrutinized his face. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he looked older and more tired than usual. "Did you sleep at all? I mean; I'm sure you're aware that I have no problem sharing my bed with you." I added with a seductive smile.
He shook his head minutely, a peculiar expression on his face. "No, it was much more interesting to watch you."
"Creeper."
He smirked and returned the apple to the fruit bowl looking thoughtful. "What do you remember from last night?"
I grabbed a glass of water, as I knew the said alcohol had dehydrated me. "Well, I remember Jessica, Ang, Lauren, Tyler, and Mike came over first. Then we were playing I Never. And…hmmm, I think more people came. Oh yeah, someone was wearing a canary costume, but they wouldn't let me kiss them cause of the fangs."
We both laughed at that memory. "Then I was dancing for a while, then Ryan came, and I was really toast by then, so he gave me like some pain killer or something. Then I remember you standing over me with Emmet, mm that was hot."
He sighed. "Yes, you seemed to enjoy that."
"Then, um, I was dancing with you, oh yeah to Closer. God, I'm a slut." I said, grinning.
"Yes, that was rather interesting. I had heard stories of you drunk, but that was more than I had expected." Edward said speculatively.
"Then I just remember barfing everywhere. I'm so sorry about you having to deal with that, hopefully you can block out that memory in the future." I grimaced, but was shocked by his smug expression. I looked at him quizzically.
"I'd rather not block out that memory, actually, you said some very interesting things." He explained with eyes twinkling wickedly.
I waited for him to elaborate, but he just gazed out the bay window and into the green foliage.
"And…what did I say?" I asked curious, albeit excited; I didn't really care what he had heard from me drunk, but it was still odd for him to know more about what I had said than myself.
"No way, I'm keeping that memory for myself." He said still looking conceited.
"And Emmet knows." I pointed out, taking a bite of my food.
His face went blank with a hint of horror on it. "Ah, shit. Sorry Alex, I have to go, I'll see you on Monday."
I had never heard him swear, and it sounded beautiful in his alluring voice.
"You're probably as bad an influence on me as I am on you." He said, standing up. I was always shocked by his height. And muscles. And the attraction he held for me. And just him in general.
"Probably. The only way you influence me in a "bad" way, is that you make me think and do inappropriate things. It's not really your fault, though." I said, attempting to pick up a blueberry with my spoon.
"If only you knew how I was influencing you, Alex. No, it's probably better that you don't." He explained.
"You're so cryptic." I accused lightly.
He ignored that. "If you should feel sick at all or anything, call me on this number." There was suddenly a piece of paper in his white hand. I accepted it, and put it in my pocket.
I walked with him to the front of my house and turned to him at the door. "Thanks Edward, all I've done since I met you is basically try to get you out of your designer clothes and into my pants, and here you've been considerate enough – despite that – to make sure I didn't snuff it in my own vomit. So thank you, really."
He looked at me like I was on crack, and placed his long hand on the door handle. "It would have been callous for me to leave you any other way than this. Goodbye Alex."
He was out the door the next moment, leaving me with an aching head and scheming mind.
Lunch on Monday was full of babble. The topics flew between reviews of my party, an upcoming dance, and a trip to the beach that was planned for the upcoming weekend. Somehow students managed to find far-fetched correlations between the three, leaving focus on other subjects to a minimum.
I had already been invited to the dance by many boys. All of them looked hopeful and scared stiff, and left looking disappointed and puzzled. I had declined all of their invitations – not because I couldn't dance; far from it – but because it was much more enjoyable to migrate from group to group of dancers – and to of course start the groups.
In Art I took my usual seat, and flashed Edward a bright smile. I was pleased when he returned a crooked one. Wow.
Mr. Kettel had entered the room by then, and demanded the class's attention.
"Children, children, I dreamt last night of focus. So today I want us all to be silent as we pursue our course and venture in the realm of art."
He continued to explain his epiphany, while setting up a print of A Starry Night for us to copy.
I absentmindedly began to sketch out the landscape, while my mind was annoyed at the teacher for ceasing any possible conversation with Edward. Then a thought struck me – I had my phone in my bright yellow skinny jean pocket, and his number programmed in it.
I inconspicuously pulled out my phone, turned it on vibrate, and began a new text.
You're looking well.
I sent the innocent message, and was pleased to see him reach into his light wash denim pocket a moment later and retrieve his iPhone.
I felt the vibrations in my pocket in an instant, and grinning about the feelings his text message was giving me, read the message.
As are you, of course. Is there another motivation for you to text me, other than to compliment me upon my mundane appearance?
I quickly typed in my reply, exultant at our new form of impersonal communication.
Mundane appearance? Far from it, Edward – I'm sure over half the girls are drooling all over their Starry Nights' while admiring your goods clad in Abercrombie. And why should a friend need another motivation to text another other than to compliment them?
I saw him sneer in distaste at my first comment as his fingers flew over the touch screen in reply.
You're sense of humour still mystifies me. How is it a young, apparently "innocent" girl like you can produce such insubordinate thoughts?
I hit the touch screen reply before my mobile even began to vibrate.
It's a talent. Are you not at all acquiescent with it?
His reply was short.
That depends on what exactly the thoughts are containing…
I frowned, hoping to persuade him to elaborate.
Won't you go into detail on that? You know how your opinions are important to me.
I had intended to flatter him, but he seemed more perturbed than cajoled by my obsession with him. His eyes darkened, and his elegant hand shook around the graphite pencil he was grasping.
If you had an ounce of self-preservation they wouldn't matter to you.
I wanted to keep the conversation light until we had a more private place to discuss this, so my reply was teasing.
Stop trying to act all dark and mysterious, Edward. I know you're just avoiding sleeping with me because you're worried I'll tell everyone how small you are.
He looked stunned as he re-read the message and typed a furious, albeit befuddled reply.
What? What would insinuate that assumption?
I smirked as I had successfully moved us on to a less serious topic.
Because that is all guys think about.
My reply was simple, but his was even more so.
True.
