A/N:
Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns the plot and characters of Twilight, not to mention all the money it makes. I make nothing but fanfiction.
Chapter 10 – "Cold and Wet"
"Bella!" I ran after her, too late, and just missed her shoulder as she leaped into the air. I was right behind her and, I realized belatedly, falling through the air as I was, that I had just jumped off a cliff. I had enough time to realize this before I sliced through the water, and I felt myself go down until all sense of direction was lost. I was suspended, lost in the icy inkiness that was all around me. Where was Bella?
The thought pulled me out of my shock, and I opened my eyes against the stinging water. It was then I suddenly felt it, something small gripping my arm just below the elbow and pulling me in a direction. I turned to see her, kicking out and pulling me with her, and I kicked in the same direction and helped her lead me. I trusted her completely. The thought made me content.
Our heads broke through the surface, we gasped for breath, and I looked at her, stunned. She wasn't facing me, she was facing the shore, and she held onto my arm as she led me back. My mind was pulsing with the frantic beating of my heart. She was amazing. She was fantastic. She was beyond anything I'd ever dreamed a girl could be. There were no words for what she was, and I wanted to show her that because I knew I couldn't tell her.
Bella Swan. Strong, snarky and completely insane.
We stumbled onto the beach, but she didn't stop as she dragged me behind her into the trees. She walked surely, still holding onto my arm, until she reached a hollow in an ancient fallen oak. She curled inside it and turned to me, beckoning me to join her. Her face was glowing with energy and vitality. Her eyes were a puppet show of excitement and play. I compressed my body into the small space beside her, and her skin was ice cold like mine. She pulled a dusty old blanket from a hole in the tree trunk and threw it over us both, snuggling into me. We were wrapped around each other, and in the tiny hollow I could feel her shiver. I could feel every goose bump and every crevice. We tried to arrange ourselves into a comfortable position, and every accidental touch of her stomach or brush against her breasts made my blood burn. We settled into a sitting position, her with her back pressed into my chest. I wrapped my arms around her and waited for our shared body warmth to bring back the feeling in my fingertips. Absently, I would rub her arms or her shoulders, and she would hold my hands and exhale on my fingers, her warm breath making my skin tingle. If my body wasn't freezing, I would have found it difficult to control myself with her pressed up so tightly against me while each of us wore nothing but our soaking wet underwear.
"Bella," I murmured after a while, my hands resting lightly on her shoulders. I could feel the scar tissue now, the irregular bumps and lines of it against my palm. I could see a small cluster of scars on her right ear, as well, where I'd never seen them before. Why had I spoken her name? What did I want to say? Wasn't it rude to ask her?
"There was an accident," she filled me in without turning her head, and her hands covered my own. "Last year, Tyler Crowley lost control of his van in the parking lot at school, and I got caught between the van and my truck." My mouth fell open. "It should have killed me instantly, but Jazz knocked me mostly out of the way. He got the brunt of it. Jasper saved my life."
I swallowed as her hand led mine over the scars on her shoulder, down to around her ribs. I could feel her pulse underneath my fingertips. I stared at the web of scars, then thought about the almost identical scars Jasper had. My mind's eye presented me with images of Bella and Jasper, trapped between two cars, blood and broken glass all over them both...
"I always thought ever since that Jasper would always be my savior. That he'd always be the one to rescue me. That I'd always need rescuing."
I wanted to tell her she didn't, that she was strong and sure and incredibly independent, and she didn't need anybody. Not Jasper, not Jacob, and certainly not me. But my mouth was dry. There wasn't enough moisture there to form the words.
"We used to date, you know. Jazz and I. For more than two years."
I felt sick. Maybe a part of me knew.
"Jasper didn't jump," she said quietly, and I looked intently at the back of her neck for some indication of what that meant. "When I brought him here with me, he didn't jump. He just drove back down to the beach and picked me up by the shore."
I blinked. On second thought, it would have been the more logical thing to do. At least she wouldn't have to spend so much time being cold and wet and miserable. At least then she would have a warm car to get into.
"He gave me a lecture on valuing my life because if I didn't care, other people did. He was so mad at me." She chuckled a little and shook her head. I was still cursing myself for not thinking of that sooner when she turned to me.
Her smile was mischievous, but her eyes were so warm, and I saw the fear and uncertainty from the cliff in them again. She was scared. She was so small and so frail against my chest. My heart pounded, and I knew she could feel it. We were so close, and her eyes were so beautiful. I lost myself in them. No surprise there. "I just wanted to share something. He was…" she swallowed and blinked rapidly, a small blush coloring her cheeks. "I'm glad you jumped." My mouth was suddenly even drier. The story of her accident, the evidence I'd seen all over her skin, her confession about Jasper's rescue, their past and his failure to jump, and her scent so thick and warm in the mossy hollow. I looked at her and realized that, regardless of what I'd thought all along, this was the first time I was seeing Bella Swan.
Bella Swan. Soft, fragile and utterly defenseless.
Not exceedingly hateful, nor confidently intimidating. She was a young girl, scared, lonely, unsure and yet vibrant, full of life and excitement, impulsive and daring and crazy fun, and exceedingly beautiful on top of all that. And when I was sad, even when – especially when—she was the reason I was sad, she did what she could to make it better. A little bit. Not very good at it, but she tried, and she was exceptionally clumsy and kind like that. It would be so easy to lean my head down ever so slightly and place my lips over hers. She would let me, I knew it for certain. Maybe even the entire day had been a kind of foreplay to this moment, because she wanted me to do it. To take control and make her feel silly for being insecure. To worship her with my body and make her forget Jasper. To lovingly kiss and lick and caress every inch of imperfect skin on her body. It would be so easy. It would be so good. It would be so wrong.
Not like this. I wanted her so bad, but not like this.
Carefully, exerting every ounce of my willpower and concentration, I brushed my lips against her cheek in a chaste kiss. I wanted her to know it wasn't a rejection. I wanted to show her I wanted her, but that I was fighting it for a greater good. For a greater us. I knew I had no words to say it, so I lovingly ran my hand across her scarred shoulder and she shivered. "Maybe we should start making our way back to our clothes," I mumbled, reluctance evident in my voice, and Bella looked at me in shock. Maybe she saw in my eyes the struggle. Maybe she recognized it for what it was. She nodded.
She got up, rolling the blanket back into its place, and led me a short distance away onto a small dirt path. I was warmer, but I was still shivering. She seemed fine, but Bella Swan always seemed fine. I missed the hollow of the tree, and we were silent as we walked. Finally, she stopped at an old bush, and started pulling the shrubbery away to reveal a well-concealed red motorcycle. I had seen it once before, and I was not pleased to see it again. I eyed it warily. She slid onto it and kick started it to life, looking at me expectantly. "Come on."
"I don't know," I hesitated. Riding on a bike was supposed to be unpleasant at best. Riding one barefoot and in my underwear seemed entirely insane. Even if I was freezing my nuts off. Even if cliff-diving in December was possibly the stupidest fucking thing Bella could have done.
She rolled her eyes. "He'll jump off a cliff, sure, but ride a motorcycle? Fuck no!"
I growled and she laughed at my frustration, revving the engine and waggling her eyebrows. "You could wait here, and I'll go get the Volvo."
My eyes widened in horror. No one drove the Volvo but me. No one. Grumbling loudly, I got on behind her – my male ego took a blow right then and there – and locked my arms around her waist. She tightened my grip and put on her helmet, and I was so pressed up against her it wasn't even funny.
When she took off I shut my eyes, waiting for the inevitable crash. After a while, when nothing came but the slow tilting from side to side as she turned, and only the wind blowing against my face told me I was moving at all, I opened my eyes hesitantly.
The wind burned them, and I had to blink rapidly, but I couldn't close my eyes after I got a glimpse. The world moving past us was an intense green, the air rushing towards us frosty and thick so that it felt like we were slicing through it. I started to note how her muscles tensed one way or another as we turned, and I had to remind myself that I was sitting here behind Bella Swan, the most incredible, exciting girl I'd ever met. I never would've thought in September I'd ever be here, on the back of a motorcycle right after cliff diving. With her.
She pulled up beside my Volvo and killed her engine, taking off the helmet and turning to me with another bright and vibrant smile. "How about that? You didn't fall off."
I rolled my eyes in an attempt to be nonchalant, but quickly got off the bike. It felt like the insides of my thighs were burning up. Rubbing my arms to get the blood circulating in them – it was fucking freezing! – I picked up my jeans, sweater and jacket, and dove into the car. I started it and cranked the heat just as she was getting into the backseat, her clothes gathered in her arms.
"I won't look if you don't," she promised, and I swallowed and nodded, avoiding glancing at the rearview mirror. I told myself not to think about what was going on in my backseat, and more importantly, not to picture it. Too late.
Hurriedly, I pulled off my wet boxers, kicking them under my seat as I pulled on my freezing but dry jeans. I winced. Commando in jeans. Not my favourite feeling. I cleared my throat as I pulled my sweater on over my head, and she kicked my seat.
"I'm done," she announced, and I turned around to see her lying across the seats on her back, her jeans on and her arms crossed over her bare breasts. I felt the blood rush out of my head, and felt the breath escape my lungs before whipping my head around back to the front so fast my neck popped. She giggled, delighted by my reaction apparently. "Made ya look."
I was glaring furiously out the windshield, my heart racing as I cursed her silently. That was a good one. I was pulling my jacket on as she opened her door and stepped out. "I'm gonna take the bike back to the beach. Follow me as close as you can get, okay?"
The warmth was getting my brain to kick start, and I followed her in awe as my mind went through the events of the past few hours again. I couldn't understand her anymore today than I did back in September. I was an idiot, and a pathetic one at that, and I kept coming back for more. And then she gives me a window, and I act like a fucking gentleman. And yet, I realized as she disappeared down a dirt path too narrow for me to follow, forcing me to stop and let the car idle, slowly the magic of that hollow was fading, and it seemed more and more like a dream or another figment of my imagination. By the time she came jogging back through the bushes and stumbled, catching herself on the hood of my car and giggling to herself, I had convinced myself it hadn't been real. She slid into the front seat still giggling at her near-fall experience. "You wanna get something to eat?" she asked, beaming at me, and my mood lightened in spite of myself.
"Sure. Where would you like to go?" I offered a small smile, and she considered for a moment as she put her wet hair up into a messy bun. Fucking sexy.
"Feel like driving to Port Angeles? They have an Italian place there that's not so bad." I nodded, backing my car out of the path and turning onto the road.
She gave me directions and I followed them with a lingering sense of awe. It was just weeks ago since Bella and I had started our strange but hopefully enduring ritual of morning pick ups and afternoon drop offs. Weeks since the smell of her filled my car and made me light-headed. Weeks since she'd given up on being full-time bitch to me and become something else. Weeks since my outraged dislike of her warped into the realization that I was falling hard and fast for her.
That's Edward fucking Cullen for you. Nothing half-assed.
Suddenly, the car was filled with the crooning of Robert Smith, and I jumped as Bella sighed. She took her phone out of her pocket and bit her lip, then texted someone before switching her phone off and putting it back in her pocket. I looked at her questioningly. "It's Jazz." She shrugged, and I made a noncommittal sound. Of course. He wanted to know where she was.
We picked our way through lunch, a strange buzz of energy making my skin tingle with the sensation of her. Every time she moved, every time she adjusted, my body realigned to face her and accommodate her new position. When she breathed I heard it, and when she shifted her feet I felt it. The cells in my body were like satellites, tuned to her siren frequency. I even noticed the slight bump-bump-bump of her pulse in her jugular, and fantasized about feeling it against my tongue. We spoke very little, and I was intensely aware of every movement of her mouth. When she spoke, when she smiled, even when she ate. The way her lips would open for a bite, and then slide across the fork, the subtle circular motion of her chewing. I was hypnotized, and kicking myself for not kissing her in the hollow when I had the chance.
As I led her back to the car, I could feel her shoulder against my arm. The hair on the back of my neck was standing on end, a strange electric buzz of euphoria racing through my veins. It would be so easy to touch her. To put my arm around her. I could make it casual. Maybe she would let me.
But the walk to the car was too short, and we were there without any major events touch-wise. She sang during the drive back to her house, her voice thick with an intensity that put Marianne Faithful to shame. I never liked Marianne Faithful very much, but then again I'd never heard her sung by Bella.
There was no going back.
She had captured me completely.
"Thanks for today," she murmured, almost a whisper I didn't hear, and I realized with dismay we were at her house. No cruiser outside. Just the giant red truck.
"Thanks for taking me cliff-diving." Lame. That was the best I could come up with? Come on, Cullen.
"No problem." She looked at her hands in her lap, her fingers tangling and untangling together, a jerky dance of nerves and insecurity. Instinctively, I reached out and covered her hands with one of my own. She blushed.
"Bella," my voice cracked, and I swallowed to try again. "I've been meaning to tell you-"
But I never finished the sentence, and the thought was launched out of my head by the sudden presence of Bella everywhere. Her arms were around my neck, and I had hands full of oranges and flowers, tinted with ocean salt and pure heaven. I inhaled her, gripping her to me so hard I knew it was probably uncomfortable for her. But I couldn't stop.
"Do you love me, Edward?"
I froze. Was this real?
She pulled back slightly and looked up at me with those eyes, and I couldn't even breathe. "Do you love me?"
I opened my mouth. I closed it again. I swallowed. I struggled for breath.
Her eyes grew panicked, then mortified, then sad. And I closed my eyes in shame, because I made her feel that way.
The featherlight touch of velvet against my lips was so soft, I almost didn't feel it. Almost. My eyes flew open and she was there, her lips on mine, her eyes heavy-lidded and still so sad. I was too shocked to react, and the heavy scent of citrus muddled my brain. I couldn't even close my eyes. I couldn't kiss her back. She watched me with those eyes, through her lashes, pressing her lips to mine more firmly, and the added fervor jolted me back to life.
I moved my lips against hers, placing one of my hands on her cheek to keep her close. I felt as much as heard her inhale sharply at my sudden reciprocation, and with a startled whimper she was suddenly gone. I opened eyes I didn't remember closing to see her already fumbling with the door. She was out of the car before I could open my mouth to call her name or ask what I'd done wrong.
And as her front door slammed shut, I stood outside my car, my hands in my hair, my mind frantic with disbelief. Why now? What happened this time? Why did she kiss me if she was just going to run as soon as I started kissing her back? Why why why? Where did I even start with all the whys of Bella Swan?