Thank you Dawn, for being such a great beta, person, and friend.
Thank you The Boyfriend who, as of last Wednesday, will now be known as The Fiancée.
This update is for RockABelly. Happy birthday.
Heavy beats thump thick, the air around me solid and slick. The music is pulsing, sultry, dark as oil and it entices my limbs to move. My feet chart patterns on the wooden dance floor while my hips shift and freely sway.
I close my eyes and sip the beat without inhibition, greedily taste the tempo on my tongue. It's not any song I recognize, but it's intense as it pushes through my veins, slips over my sweaty skin. I move like fluid through the air. My palms drift aimlessly over my hips, across my stomach, up my waist; the shirt gathers at my wrist, exposing firm, flat flesh.
He is sitting in a booth, half-hidden in shadows. I can only see parts of him, flashes of pale skin and vibrant color: Hands pressed firmly against the tabletop. Long legs parted, planted wide. And I can see his eyes.... They glitter green, sparks and heat. A welcome predator, watching me from the cover of darkness.
I circle my hips and rotate away from him, hands tracing a path up the smooth skin of my neck, finding refuge in my thick, damp hair. My spine twists, arches, and I cast a glance over my shoulder… I feel him studying me, watching me writhe in rhythm, learning the lines of my body as I touch my humming skin.
I want to show him what I want. What I want him to do.
I hear movement behind me, and my breathing stops.
His steps are even, purposeful, torturous. I close my eyes, tilt my head back in supplication. Waiting. Willing.
I hear footsteps, slow and stalking, making me anticipate the strike…
And then he's behind me, pressing hot and hard and insistent against my shivering back, and oh god I feel him… and fuck me, there are way too many fucking layers of fabric between us.
There is no hesitation now, no fucking doubts or chastisement. I know what I want, and it's finally imminent.
His big hands - those hands I've enviously watched manipulate objects for so many months now - those very same hands come up and cup my full breasts, kneading the soft flesh, thumbs expertly playing with the hardened nubs through my thin shirt. I gasp and throw my head back farther, resting on his shoulder. My nerves have jagged edges, frayed like raw silk.
I would beg him for more with words and biting kisses, sink to my knees and offer him anything he wants, anything if he'll just keep.
Fucking.
Touching me.
The area between my legs is throbbing, needing him, crying for attention…
Now. No teasing and no tentative touches, just him and me and skin and friction, fast and hard and here, bringing weeks of reluctant fantasy to fruition.
My moan cuts through the melody, and I never stop moving to the silky beat. My hips and thighs twist together, rewriting the music. I feel a rigid swelling of firm flesh pressing into my ass, hard as fucking iron, and I'm grinding him through denim and thin lace… and dear god I want more.
His hands encircle my upper arms, gripping tightly, and he spins me to face him. I halt my movement and just stand, ensnared.
He is simply breath-taking. A dream, a fantasy, yet somehow a real man, with gentle scars and hard, copper stubble and purple blood churning below thin, pale skin. His nostrils are flared, air sweet and hot across my face, eyes are black with… something, churning and alive and piercing. His soft, full mouth mere inches from mine but oh god, not touching me… He searches through me with my eyes, stealing secrets that I would willingly give him. Emeralds on fire, burning, and I breathe deep to take him in…
He moves forward; my eyes close on their own. I taste his breath. His lips just barely brush mine before he stops, and I am only given a glimpse heaven.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Mine.
In desperation, I groan and move in earnest to close the gap, to find satisfaction, but he holds his distance, dodging back just out of reach. My hands roam wildly over his chest, searching for purchase, taut skin under my singing fingertips… He lets them move, journeying up his neck, slick from sweat and my hands are in his hair, finally touching his fucking hair, getting tangled and lost, and I'm lost too…
I tug on the wild bronze locks, hard, and he growls then, feral and ripping low from his throat. It reverberates between my legs and pools wet in my tight jeans.
Thick arms envelope my waist and I'm moving… My feet leave the floor and my back is being pressed into rough wood.
My fingers sink reverently into curly copper. He hesitates for a moment, hovering above me, the rest of the world has fallen away…
His lips finally find purchase, tasting me for the first time and I gasp, oh god he is sweet and heat and just as I imagined. He is gentle and kind, teasing, sucking and biting at the pale flesh of my neck, tongue lapping at my fiery skin and I groan and attempt to draw his head even closer to my exposed throat, holding him there with all my strength.
I hear a soft sound: he is clucking his tongue at me, an admonishing noise, and I feel his smile against my neck as he reaches up with one marble arm and removes my hands from his hair. I whimper, mourning the loss of the silken threads beneath my fingers, but then he unexpectedly gathers both my wrists in one fist and jerks my limbs up above my head, pinning me down.
I'm exposed, completely open… and god help me, I'm his to do with what he wants.
There is more fast movement and distantly I hear a chair clatter to the ground, but I don't care, I can't care because all that exists are his lips and fingers, working hard, textured tongue now lapping at the thin skin covering my collarbone. He clutches the material between my breasts and with a glorious jerk rips the silk, the fabric parting wetly. His hand explores this newly exposed skin, pinching and rubbing at puckered pink peaks and it's too much too much and I groan wildly and arch my back…
He isn't close enough.
He's never close enough.
He shifts against me urgently, and I feel him where I need him, solid and hot and big, pushing against my throbbing center in time to the unrelenting beat. I immediately wrap my legs around his lean waist and thrust up into him, again and again, meeting and matching, giving and getting. The sounds of panting and moaning, wet smacks and rasping fabric fill the dark bar.
Time stops.
The hot shackles are then gone from my wrists, and he puts both of his hands on either side of my head, humid breath one again fanning across my face.
We stop, and we stare, eyes locked, chests heaving, touching with each gasp.
His eyes: twin paradoxes, dual meanings keeping me confused and turned on high… they are soft and alive, fiery and sweet… god please, I am flushed, swollen, wet and pulsing, please let me find satisfaction, release, salvation in him…
But his eyes - those fucking eyes - they hold me immobile, wrapped in pulsing heat. Every time.
I don't hear, but rather feel his voice, sensual and rough, caress my ear… I close my eyes and surrender, submitting to whatever comes next… just no more fucking thinking, just feeling…
A sweet word whispered, like honey dribble in thin ropes across my bare skin.
"Bella…"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Wet sheets twisted, damp ropes knotted firmly around my curled legs. My chest heaved, grasping at cold air that filled my lungs with jagged splinters of ice. The sweat on my skin met the cool breeze from my open window, and I shivered.
I stared at the ceiling, shuddering and sighing in resignation. I tried to both push away and clutch tight the remaining fragments of the dream as it fell away from my memory, escaping between my fingers like sand…
I rolled over and curled in a ball, finally trying to push the lingering thoughts of him away and instead forcing my mind on what I should have been thinking of… something reasonable… like… what I can make for dinner tomorrow. Yeah. Or how far I should run with Alice.
Safe things. Manageable. Realistic.
The rest of the night passed slowly.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Bella. Saturday.
"Shut the fuck up!"
I could see Alice bouncing in my peripheral vision, spiky hair flat with sweat, round face glowing like a paper lantern. "How much is it? When is it? Do you think you're really going to do it?"
How she could still be so energetic at the tail end of a 10 mile run was beyond my understanding.
I laughed and huffed as we slowed to a stop. "Okay: No, I won't. I don't know how much it is, it begins in three weeks, and yes, I really think I'm going to do it."
My watery muscles hummed as I flopped down on the damp grass and looked around. The park near our house was normally teeming with screaming kids, but it currently sat empty. It was very early Saturday morning and the forecast had predicted rain... well, any minute now, actually.
Alice knelt next to me and leaned forward, eyes blazing the color of burnt honey. "Bella, that's awesome! You haven't danced in forever!" One eyebrow went up, and she cocked her head. "Do you have a partner yet?"
"No," I replied. I pulled the toe of my running shoe gently toward me, my calf muscles tightening and redacting painfully beneath my wet skin. "But, I deliberately picked an intermediate ballroom class that doesn't require a partner, so I figure I'll just dance with whoever is there." I shrugged. "It'll work out, I'm sure."
I took Alice's silence as validation: she certainly wasn't one to mince words, and I smiled and thought back over the last eight days with satisfaction.
That last late-night run had thrown me for a loop. The quiet, unfocused, burning determination I had found while under the blanket of black night had followed me home, curled with me under my sheets, and had not yet dissipated by the next morning. It was purposeless resolve, without direction… but it was there, burning bright blue.
I knew that I needed to do something. To stop being so goddamn emo and whiny about my life (or lack thereof). I needed to organize. I needed a plan. I am Bella Swan, after all.
So, being me, I came up with a goal: I was going to break old habits. I felt infinitely better with a plan, with a path and a newly-prepared checklist of things to do. Structure, my own personal brand of heroin.
Last Monday morning I had put that plan in motion.
The idea was to go out of my way to do things that made me uncomfortable. I had said hello to Angela every morning, asking her about Ben and straining to keep a natural-looking smile on my face. I had tentatively waved to Emmett from across the room, though my cheeks had flushed furious red each time and I had quietly struggled to catch my breath.
The most trying exercise in self-torture had been that, though my mind and body had screamed for the release like a junkie craving a hit, I only allowed myself two runs the entire week, with Alice. Though, truth be told, Alice might have been more brutal on my poor body than if I had run on my own. That chick could have passed for a fucking terminator, if the T-1000 were short and beautiful and overly-enthusiastic.
Finally, every day this last week, I had grit my teeth, held my breath… and (wait for it) smiled at my co-workers.
It sounds so stupid, I know, but… holy shit had it been hard. It was different, foreign, completely at odds with the way I had behaved every damn day since I had come on to Swan Consulting, but… I did it anyway. Their shocked, confused faces were brutal, like sandpaper on my eyeballs, and their consistent deadpan rejection weighed like heavy stones in my stomach… but I kept at it, over and over masochistically flashing grin after grin. Once in a while one would smile back, and I would feel a twitch of validation… but mostly I received blank stares.
But I was committed now. I had a plan.
It will get easier, I told myself every night. I will be more normal soon, less like a jigsaw puzzle. I reasoned that it was like a pair of shoes that needed to be broken in: blisters were inevitable, but they eventually gave in the right places, collapsing and distorting to fit the owner.
The dreams will stop, too. I shivered. Eventually. The haunting, vivid images would eventually fade and blur…
Bronze hair haloed in morning light. A hot palm holding me a willing captive. A velvet voice asking me to… well, it didn't matter. I would stop waking up alone, soaking wet from sweat and arousal, panting and twitching and reaching for someone who wasn't there.
Pain and memories lessen with time; I had learned that lesson too well, and needed to apply it here. I just needed to… keep going… acknowledge him with polite nods, to force myself to turn away from his profile, to deny myself the depth of his eyes. I had to train myself to look inward for strength, and not seek his heat and false comfort. I would simply replace him with other things… good things. Activities, sports, lessons…
The ache would subside, and I would forget.
I needed this to work. I felt good, I felt safe… I concluded that I just had to keep wearing this coat, and I would eventually grow into it.
So all in all, a good week.
Alice looked at me for a moment, suddenly going from contemplative to dangerous. She shook her head. "We're going to have to talk about this some time, Swan."
Huh?
I whipped my head up and looked at her. What could she possibly be referring to?
"Talk about what, exactly?"I had literally just been thinking about my progress… and she was mad? She has nothing to pick at me for right now. I had only stayed late at the office one time in the last week, and the rest of the nights we had spent together, going to the gym, watching the Mariners and making dinner… I had even looked up those stupid lessons that were way below my skill level at the local dance academy; I thought that maybe there I would find the fluency I'd been seeking. Dancing was like a second skin to me, like home. The comfort of easy steps, known beats and remembered movements.
I truly thought Alice would be thrilled with me, and her negativity was really… well, it was bumming me out.
"You," she stated matter-of-factly, "and your refusal to accept what you really need to do."
My frustration flared, something straining dangerously against confines in my mind.
"Jesus, Alice, what the fuck am I supposed to do?" The words were too forced, unexpectedly desperate, and I realized suddenly that I wasn't as confident as I had hoped.
Shit.
"I have been trying. I've loved hanging out with you more, running and cooking and letting you kick my ass at the gym. That's all been good, right?"
"Yes."
"And I'm going to dance again… that's a good thing. When is the last time I had an extracurricular activity?"
"When is the last time you had sex?" she shot back.
Oh. Well that's just low.
I sputtered nonsensical sounds, my mouth opening and closing like a surprised trout. "I… ah, I mean… not too long ago…" I tugged at my wet bangs, my face sizzling against the impending storm. "I don't remember specific dates."
I was lying, and she knew it. I was well-aware of the last time I had sex. It was almost two and a half years ago. Two and a half very long, very dry years.
His name was Jacob, and he worked for another consulting firm here in Seattle. He was tall and dark and aloof, brown eyes and skin and perfect, white teeth. He was a brilliant businessman, naturally charismatic and clever, and maybe a little on the aggressive side. Okay, more than a little aggressive. "A wolf in the boardroom," I had heard him described… it certainly fit.
We had met at a business luncheon, where we exchanged cards. We'd talked about nothing but business the entire first encounter, but decided to meet up from drinks later. We made some small talk, and not thirty minutes later we were fucking in his hotel room. It was so incredibly unlike me, so dirty and daring and foreign… but it was at a time in my life when I needed to not be me for a while, and Jacob gave me the out I needed.
Practically the second he rolled off of me, he had gotten a call from a client that he had insisted he take. I showed myself out the door. The precedent had been set.
His aptitude as a consultant was incredibly attractive to a young woman just starting in the corporate world. I admired Jacob's ability to make things happen, to work with machine-like efficiency without heeding people's feelings or getting too attached to anyone. I especially envied his ability to distance himself from the people around him, to focus completely on work, and eventually his habit to tune even me out when I accidently wanted to linger, when I considered speaking with him as a person and not just an object. I took no offense to his cold shoulder, but rather I coveted his discipline.
He was handsome and muscled, tall and cruel, calculated and insensitive to my (virtually nonexistent) needs. He was completely emotionally unavailable, and allowed me to suppress my needs, to deny myself the comfort of a partner. I allowed him to treat me like I felt: like nothing.
He was perfect for me.
Our relationship never went beyond late-night texts with a hotel name and room number, and the occasional fevered fuck at lunch. I used him for an escape, and he used my body for a release. But that was back at the tail-end of when I still needed to feel something, a relief from the cold reality of work… to feel hot flesh fill me, make me whimper, remind me I was alive.
The sex… it was good, but not mind-blowing. His touch and presence was purely physical; and we rarely had a conversation that didn't involve corporate buzzwords. I never knew his back story, he never asked mine. Our arrangement petered out after a few months; there was nothing tying us together. We had both known that our arrangement wasn't long-term.
Fast forward to today: there had pretty much been nothing going on for me down there since Jacob. Well, nothing that involved another person, anyway. However, there had certainly been an increase in activity over the past month, I was slightly embarrassed to admit.
I grunted unhappily. "What does that have to do with me taking dance lessons?"
Alice nodded, a smug expression on her face. "Yup. That's what I thought."
I rolled my eyes. "Say something, you bitch. Your point being?"
"Human contact, Bella. Physical, person to person interaction. When's the last time you felt another person's skin that wasn't attached to me, Jazz, or a client through one of your man-like handshakes?"
Pathetically, I actually had to think hard. It was… shit. I closed my eyes, turning my head away from Alice.
Oh fuck. I froze. It was roughly three weeks ago.
It was with Edward's finger, handing me my tea in the lobby of the Cullen's office. His arm had brushed my clothed limb in the lobby later that day, and then he'd grasped my arm at the bar, through the thin cotton of my shirt… but that simple, insignificant brush of his finger was the only skin I had touched in a non-platonic/non-professional way in…
Jesus.
"What about you?" I lashed out, embarrassed by this revelation. "When is the last time you 'connected' with someone, huh? And I don't mean in the 'spiritual' sense, I mean in the 'doing an impression of a Lego' sense."
"I'm a different story."
"Why?"
"I choose to be celibate."
"Ha!" I rolled my eyes at her. "Hardly a difficult vow. You avoid dick like the swine flu."
She threw back her head and laughed, loud and real. I felt some of the tension between us dissolve in the crisp air. As I watched her stretch, I recognized an opening. Should I try and pry now, or wait?
"So, what's up with you and Jasper?"
Her face was pressed flat against her knees, her body folded completely in half so I couldn't see her face. I held my breath when she didn't move, hoping that I hadn't upset her.
"Nothing." Her voice was muffled against her knees. "It's just been nice talking with him. I forgot how much I… how much we liked hanging out with him."
"Huh." I tried to sound nonchalant as I watched her out of the corner of my eye. "So you've been talking to him a lot, yeah?"
"Yeah, every day." Alice sighed. Oh my god she just sighed. And to my absolute shock, she continued. "He calls me every morning, just to tell me a joke and make me laugh. Then he calls me during the day, when he sees something beautiful, or fascinating, or extraordinary… like me, he says." My mouth dropped silently open. "And he's so funny, Bella… just yesterday…"
Alice's unexpected confession came to a halt. She snapped her head up to my excited, shocked face and growled, "You are changing the subject, you bitch. We're talking about you and your poor, lonely vagina. And your heart, of course. But mostly your vagina."
I sighed again, knowing that I wasn't going to get anymore out of her today.
"There's nothing to talk about, Alice." I heard her grunt softly, and I immediately felt bad for being dismissive. I knew that she was only pressing me because she cared about me – the same way I was pushing her to open to me about her obvious feelings for Jazz.
"I'm trying, babe." I winced a bit; the subject of "trying" had been a bit of a sore subject for me. I still hadn't told Alice about my conversation with Edward, in the lobby… since it didn't matter anymore, of course. I was dealing with more important facets of my life. Besides… the failure was still too fresh, too wet.
"I'm putting myself out of my comfort zone, and I'm making an effort to be a human being –"
She cut me off. "Did you talk to him this week?"
I blinked at her. "Who?"
"You know who. Your green-eyed drinking buddy. Edward Masen. Did you talk with him?
My stomach clenched, but I didn't falter in my stretch. "Yes." She narrowed her eyes. "Well… I mean, indirectly. We communicated via email and we saw each other at work, but I don't see what…"
She interrupted me again. "That's exactly what I'm talking about, Bella. That right there." I was surprised that she sounded a little irritated.
"What are you talking about? Spit it out, kid."
I saw that her lips were tightly pursed together. Uh oh. She only did that when she was upset.
"Bella Swan," she said quietly, "do you remember about a week ago, when I mentioned that I thought you were agitated? When I asked if your runs weren't working anymore?"
"Yes," I said eagerly, "and I haven't even been ru –"
She held up her hands, and continued. "I was so excited, because whether you saw it or not, comfortable or not… you were feeling something. Something real, and moving, and passionate."
I swallowed thickly. I didn't really want to hear this right now.
"But Bella, this last week… since we went to the bar two Fridays ago… you're back to hollow. Empty. You're uncomfortable, all the time… You're a ghost."
I felt something inside me twitch, but I just shook my head. I had hoped that my behavior had looked more natural than it had felt, that perhaps just by following the steps, the dance would begin to feel natural.
Clearly, not so much.
She continued, "Your smiles haven't reached your eyes."
Goddamn it.
Stubbornly, I stretched my calves and avoided her eyes. "You're nuts, Ali. I'm doing exactly what you said to do. I'm opening my mind, trying new things…" I felt my confidence wavering. "I made a commitment to myself last week, Alice. That I would stop lying to myself, stop denying and twisting myself up into knots trying to hide from the truth… that I do need to do something. And I am! I am doing my best…" I watched as I dug at the damp grass with my pinkie finger, struggling to convince her that I was doing the right thing. "There's blind, hopeless optimism, and then there's reality. I'm just being real. Besides, this week I've been doing better…"
"Sure." Alice leaned down to catch my eyes. "You're going through the motions… but you aren't happy. I can't see how you are at work, but I wonder if you're different there? You aren't feeling, Bella. You were for a minute there, but you aren't now."
The wind ruffled my wet hair. The clouds above us looked dark, petulant as I felt.
"I'm not hollow," I said through clenched teeth.
"What are you?"
"Scared." The word was out of my mouth before I could think: the answer was automatic, and god help me, true.
"Fuck me, Alice." I closed my eyes, and tried to think about anything other than the crushing defeat that was slowly beginning to press down upon my chest. "This whole week I've been trying to open my eyes, loosen up… but it's still not right. I tell myself that I just need to keep moving, and it will all work out…" My words were tense, pulled tightly, threatening to snap like a rubber band across my skin.
"Bella, I don't even knows what that means, and I doubt you do either." Ouch. "Two weeks ago you were smiling and blushing… we got you to dance, for fucksake! But this week, you're back to trying to control everything. Why? What happened?"
"Alice," my voice had a slight desperate edge to it. "Leave this alone. Can't I just try this for a little bit now? Let me do this slowly. I'm trying to… wake up, as you put it… and it's hard, but I can do it, my way." I lifted my chin, trying in vain to convey conviction.
"What, Bella? Try to avoid the one thing, the one person that is actually making you feel?" She shook her head. "Your way is trying to become another person. Your way is trading one mask for another. But you have to realize: You can't be two people. You're one person… one amazing, capable person… splitting yourself in two, to try and avoid living the life you have… That's not gonna work, kid."
"He thinks of me as 'Ms. Swan.' " The stupid, pathetic words escaped my lips, and I instantly wished I could reach out and snatch them back from Alice's ears.
"Who?" She narrowed her eyes. "Edward?"
I held my breath, and my shoulders sagged under the weight of my confession. "At the bar. I was flirting with him, Ali. Flirting like an idiot. It feels so good when I'm close to him, I can't think or talk or remember to breathe… but the truth is that around him I feel more like me than I do when I am alone, and it's frightening…" The words tumbled out of my mouth, "…and I drank his beer and jacked off the glass stem and all he talked about was work and he called me Ms. Swan."
I halted my verbal assault and peered at her, desperation and confusion burning my throat. Poor Alice looked utterly confused, sad, surprised.
Yeah. Me, too.
"I'm just a co-worker to him." I explained quietly. "And you know what? He's right. That's what I am. What I need to be… because clearly, I have some other issues that I need to address. That's what I have been worrying about… what I have influence over." Not some marble statue with malachite eyes, who I have no business worrying about.
I picked at green blades, looking anywhere but her expressive face. I laughed humorlessly. "Besides, he's probably fucking that dumb blonde bitch Jessica." I ignored the senseless clenching in my chest. My body was weakened from the run, my mind weakened from the strain of my denial, my heart weakened from the distance between myself and this stupid, false connection I had made up between him and I. "But I'll get better. I just need to try harder."
"Jesus Christ, Bella." Alice threw her hands up in the air. "Stop it. Do you hear yourself? You aren't a fucking Vulcan. You can have fun, and laugh, and cry, and feel passion." I was momentarily stunned by her nerdy, but poignant analogy. "You're allowed… no, in fact, you are fucking obligated to experience those things… because you're a human. One whole human, not two who happen to cohabitate in the same body… and quite a phenomenal body, I might add, that's being wasted."
Her face softened as she took in my defeated, shocked face. "Bells, I love you. And I want you to be happy, but this…" she gestured to me, her small hands fluttering, "this isn't happiness. You think you're loosening up, but really, you're still just compartmentalizing. Putting things in nice, neat little boxes. You've certainly done that to Edward."
Hot, foggy shame rushed into my lungs. I hung my head. She was right. So fucking, painfully right.
I'm crazy. I thought miserably. I can't even pretend to be a normal person convincingly.
"You could sign up for a hundred activities… but if your heart is locked away, you'll never enjoy any of it."
I hated that she was right. Hated it.
She suddenly slapped the ground with her hand, and it thudded heavily on the grass. I jumped, raising my head in surprise.
"And give Edward a fucking chance, would you?" My eyes widened. "He only knows you from work… What else was he supposed to call you? Can't you acknowledge that he was trying to talk with you? Did you expect him to just know that you love classic novels? That you hate eggplant? That you say very interesting things in your sleep?" She wiggled her eyebrows. I couldn't help but laugh, disappointment still souring my tongue. "No, he doesn't know any of that. Yet. Those are things that you find out when you get to know someone."
She cocked her head, eyes all innocent and sincere and devotion. "Do you want him to know you?"
I stayed silent. She waited.
But, what about my resolution? To only worry about what is realistic…
Read: only think about what you can control, a voice that sounded a lot like Alice's said in the back of my mind.
The internal battle raged on.
It's all horseshit. In a moment of rare, blinding and completely inner-honesty, a small voice thought: I'm scared. I want him, I want to get to know him, and I don't think I can because I'm nervous and awkward and unworthy of love. But that doesn't stop me from wanting him... nothing apparently can stop me from desiring him.
I nodded weakly.
"So… go get to know him."
I flopped back on the cool grass in defeat, staring at the gray, vibrating sky. Her rightness was cruel, because I insisted on making simple things so complicated, so twisted that they vaguely resembled the original circumstances.
Regret rose in my throat, acidic and hot bile.
"Ali…" I whispered. "I was so distant this week. I barely looked at him." And it almost killed me.
I knew he had been watching at me. I could feel him… but I hadn't dared interact with him other than a hesitant hello. I couldn't give him anymore if I wanted to stay away… I guess I was trying to make it easier for both of us and not allow this connection to persist, to continue insinuating itself into my dreams, sleeping and waking.
Then he wouldn't be subjected to my particular brand of crazy.
"I don't know if he will even want to talk to me now," I finished miserably.
"Bella." Alice leaned over and gently took my hand, warm against the cold air. "I saw the way he looks at you… all the time. From across the bar - when your back was turned - he couldn't keep his eyes off of you when you were dancing. Trust me: he still wants to talk with you."
She leapt up and spun gracefully, leaving me unsure if I should laugh or hate myself or keep denying whatever dumb shit popped into my head. I didn't know. I just didn't know.
"So cowgirl up, ho. Stop being weird and masochistic and irrational. And race me home."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Wednesday.
"Yes, of course, Carlisle, I absolutely will."
Carlisle Cullen and I were finishing a phone meeting regarding the project. He was very pleased with the progress we were making, and had nothing but praise for me and Swan Consulting as a whole. Edward had been out of the office all day on some ongoing computer emergency, but he had emailed me earlier today to update me on a networking project to update Carlisle. Carlisle had thanked me and promised to take us both out to lunch as soon as possible so we could all catch up. I could hear the smile on his kind face; he really was a wonderful man.
Unfortunately, I had yet to find an opportunity to speak directly with Edward. I had seen him over the last three days, acknowledged him with more enthusiasm then I had shown the previous week, but had no chance for direct interaction. Every day that went by without words passing between us, I felt more and more frantic. My talk with Alice had given me a lot to think about, but mostly it had instilled something in me that I hadn't felt before with Edward.
A sense of urgency.
I had just been so preoccupied with pushing him away. I had been almost obsessive in my haste to make sure that he wasn't allowed within the walls that I had built for myself… I hadn't even considered what I would do if he were no longer there to push away. If I actually succeeded in convincing him I was unapproachable and he walked away from me, and unknowingly took with him his little light from my life…
I realized now that I truly didn't want that. I didn't know what I wanted specifically… but it definitely wasn't him away.
And, I had no fucking clue what I would say to him when we did speak.
Who are you, and what have you done with Bella Swan?
Isabella grumbled and shook her head at me.
"Absolutely, I will. Please give my love to Esme. Talk to you soon."
My hand hadn't yet left the phone before I heard footsteps approaching my desk.
"On a first name basis with the Cullens, Isabella?"
I was shocked; this was his first visit to me in weeks, since our awkward interaction at the bar. Cocky blue eyes blinked down at me. "I thought that wasn't your style." Mike's tie was nautical-themed and infuriating. His ever-present smirk was there, but in his eyes… something was lurking behind the innocuous baby blue, a menacing touch of red, perhaps anger. His proximity made my skin crawl, but I forced myself to keep his gaze.
And suddenly, I was very, very tired of Mike's invasions of privacy, his unsolicited advice and uninvited touches, his arrogance and his seeming need to talk down to me. After some coaching from Alice over the past few days, I was ready to take the next step in my reintroduction to the world… why not kill two birds with one stone?
For once, I was grateful for Edward's absence. I didn't want to do this in front of him.
"Only with certain people, Mr. Newton."
Emmett passed by my desk right then, and before I could convince myself not to, I deliberately leaned around Mike and spoke loudly.
"Emmett."
He stopped dead in his tracks and slowly turned his large frame to look down at me, the confusion clearly written on his features.
"Thank you for all your help with my Goldwater account. You were great." I smiled at him.
"Thank you… Ms. Swan?" He smiled back at me, uncertain.
"Please," I took a deep breath, "call me Bella."
The words hung heavy in the air. Mike's smirk immediately fell off his face and his eyes bugged out of his head, practically lying on his red cheeks. Emmett's wide grin threatened to escape from the sides of his face.
"Thank you… Bella." I watched him go. Mike watched me.
I turned back toward my visitor. "Is there anything else, Mr. Newton?"
He glared down at me, eyes icy blue points. His jaw muscles clenched and unclenched, and his knuckles were white with pressure.
"No, Isabella, nothing else."
As he walked back to his desk, the triumph I should have felt was thinned by a feeling of uneasiness; Mike Newton was persistent, but I really hoped that his deal with me was over. For good.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Thursday.
Dr. Jenks was having a very bad day. His new baby was already dealing with his first case of the sniffles, resulting in a sleepless night for the young doctor. Then, first thing this morning, he had been graced with a surprise inspection by an Osha representative. His temporary college student receptionist was not able to locate the emergency eye wash kit, resulting in a fine and the need to schedule an Osha-compliance class. To add insult to injury, he had received a letter from the IRS: surprise! He was being randomly audited.
I had called Alice and told her I was going to be late, so I wouldn't be able to help with the vegetable lasagna recipe was had planned. I explained that there was a legitimate emergency with a client that I needed to address, and to please still make the lasagna with Jasper. She put up a slight fuss, but ultimately understood and promised to make Jazz save me some. I couldn't help but smile and wonder if she were secretly excited for a little privacy with Jasper... I certainly wouldn't blame her.
By 7pm, I was still glued to my desk, staring at my glowing computer screen. Dr. Jenks was important to me, and I was determined to go through his financial records myself tonight so I could assure him first thing tomorrow that the audit would go smoothly. Audits sounded scary, but I kept his records squeaky clean and knew he had nothing to worry about. I wanted him to concentrate on his son, not his records. That's what he paid me for.
Oddly enough, I was not alone tonight. Of all people, Jessica was spending this late evening with me. She had deliberately dragged a report compilation project out all day, only to discover at 5pm that she had carelessly left out a page smack in the middle of the collated packet. The assignment absolutely needed to be done by tomorrow morning, so there she sat at her desk, miserable, pouting and re-stapling.
And, of course, Edward was also there. The emergency call he had been on yesterday had apparently been a total mess and was just wrapping up today. I felt terrible for him; he was hunched over his keyboard, his eyebrows knit together. His slumped posture and furrowed brow broadcasted his obvious exhaustion; I could feel his tension crawling under my own skin. I wanted to help him, but I didn't know what to do, or even how to offer. I couldn't help but want to run my hands up his curved spine, flat palms kneading hard muscle, to splay my hands between his shoulder blades and feel him breathe, make him relax…
Mostly, though, I just wanted to hear his voice. I was filled with nervous energy, and I wanted to see if his resonance still had the same calming effect over me after nearly a week of not speaking.
I half hoped it didn't… the other half desperately hoped it did.
He suddenly leaned back in his seat and my attention shifted completely to him. He stared at the ceiling, both hands tangled deep into his hair, bronze locks twisted in crazy directions. His movement caught Jessica's attention also, as she turned her head to look at him, openly gawking. I fought the urge to go put a staple in her stupid fake-tanned forehead.
He looks so tired, I thought sadly. He brought his hands down from his tresses and rubbed his face; I heard his hands rasp against his shadowy stubble across the expanse of the room. My hand twitched. I wanted to lay my palm against his hand, cover his long fingers and pull gently, expose his beautiful face and smooth away the tension lines.
Then Edward dropped his hands and looked right at me. He gave me a weary smile, and my heart sputtered. I smiled back, tentatively.
The silence of the room was shattered into a million pieces by impossibly loud music, and I realized in absolute horror that it was coming from my purse.
I had forgotten to put my iPhone on vibrate, and I remembered now, with great distress, that Alice had been playing with my phone last night and had declared my standard ringtone "boring." She had looked through my music, and I vaguely remember her mentioning that she had picked a new ringtone for me.
Oh, fuck me sideways!
I fumbled and bumbled with the bag, digging desperately, but the stupid song just screamed on and on and on:
The apple now is sweet
Oh much sweeter than it ought to be
Another little bite
I don't think there is much hope for me
The sweat beneath her brow
Travels all the way
An' headin' south
This bleedin' heart's cryin'
Cause there's no way out
Well swing a little more, little more o'er the merry-o
Swing a little more, a little more next to me …
How long is this fucking song? After what felt like a fucking hour, I finally managed to mute the stupid device.
Following the blaring Celtic punk music, the quiet was now completely deafening. I looked up apologetically. Jessica was, of course, glaring at me with unfiltered disgust, but Edward… he was now grinning, his eyebrows arched high on his forehead. He looked perkier than he did a moment ago.
I almost sighed; the electricity was definitely still there, snapping between us.
Edward stood, and my stuttering heart froze in mid-beat. He unfolded his long legs, bringing himself up to his full height and walked slowly over to my desk.
"Flogging Molly?"
My mouth was dry, and I struggled to speak like a human being should.
I nodded. "Yes. My… my roommate's choice for my new ringtone, apparently."
Edward chuckled. "Wow. I did not expect that." He ran his hand through his hair again; closer up, I could see that his eyes were tired and red. He squinted at me. "But I guess there's a lot I don't know about you."
The distance between us was thick, laced with unspoken sentiment. I didn't care that Jessica was staring a hole in Edward's back… I had to talk to him. Now or never. I opened my mouth.
"I wanted to apologize for…"
"Listen, about the other night…"
We both stopped and laughed, the sounds skittish, circling one another. Battering his hair with his hand, he started again.
"I'll start, if you don't mind." He smiled. "About that night at the bar… I really am sorry. I didn't mean to upset you.
I shook my head emphatically. "No, you have nothing to be sorry about." I felt my face beginning to flush, but I ignored it and pressed on. "I was just… really tired. I barely remember what I said, or what happened. Please don't think about it again." I gave him a smile, but it wasn't real and it felt wrong showing it to him. I hoped I sounded convincing.
Edward cocked his head, looked at me, his eyes sweeping my face. I knew… I knew that somehow he could see right though me. I felt my smile falter slightly. He finally spoke.
"No, you were fine. More than fine, actually." He shook his head, looking almost sheepish. "I was a little… awkward. Work ethic probably wasn't the most suave of subjects." He chuckled, and it came from deep in his chest, rich and resonating, swirling like music.
"You were awkward?" I brushed my bangs back off my forehead, and to my chagrin his eyes followed my hands. I bit my lip sharply and admitted weakly, "I have pretty much written the book on awkward lately."
It felt a little good to admit some small piece of my uncertainty with him. It felt… honest. Right.
Edward stared into my eyes, and I felt the flame burn hotter in my chest. Electricity snapped, making my breath puff quick from my parted lips.
"I just…" He paused. "I just wanted to talk to you. But when I got up there to the bar and saw you standing there… I realized that I didn't know what to say." He rubbed the back of his neck.
"Truth be told, Ms. Swan… that happens to me frequently. Around you."
The flame in my chest flared bright white, causing a soft gasp.
"Me too." My lips barely moved, but he heard me.
I looked down at my hands for a moment, hiding from my own unexpected words. I was feeling overwhelmed, exhilarated, shocked. This is not what I envisioned this conversation to be like. I thought we might make small talk about work, briefly touch on what happened at the bar, and then go on to something about the Cullen account. We were co-workers. This was venturing into unethical territory, unprofessional and dangerous. After my past week of misguided attention, I didn't expect him to even really want to speak with me, let alone this persisting intensity back so immediately… and yet, I wasn't really that surprised that it was still there. It was… a fact. Organic. It just was.
Rational or not, right or wrong… Edward Masen had changed me, my cellular makeup, my atomic structure. He made me different by his mere existence, and I really had no choice but to surrender.
"It wasn't what I really wanted to say to you."
I slowly lifted my eyes back to his. The buzz between us was growing, swelling and humming, becoming more intense by the second. I suddenly realized that I was unconsciously leaning toward him, drinking in his presence, trying to close millimeters if it brought me closer… and he was mirroring my posture.
"What did you want to say to me?" I asked softly. The arrangement of words sounded pitifully like a plea, but I was too high off him to care.
He was silent for a few pregnant, agonizing seconds. I was momentarily struck with sharp panic: did he feel pressured? I wasn't trying to push him to say anything… I mean, I didn't even know what I wanted him to say. Oh god… Doubt spun in my head like a whirling dervish, a tornado rotating, gathering strength, growing louder and louder by the second…
Edward saved me by laughing again, the sound rolling along my skin. "I guess I have no idea. But it wasn't about work, that's for sure." I laughed too, feeling giddy, light, absurdly young. Edward's mouth formed a lopsided smile, and I felt my knees grow watery beneath my desk. "I just didn't know if it would be okay, to… really talk to you. Get to know you." His eyes held mine fully.
"Would that be okay, Ms. Swan? May I try to get to know you?"
My resolve teetered on the edge of a knife. One side, I saw who I was. Who I had made myself. Driven and focused, my whole life plotted out before me in linear lines. Lonely and successful. Empty and safe.
The other side… it was unclear. I couldn't see what was next, couldn't control where I was headed. But it was warm there, chaotic and exciting and humid. Delicious unpredictability. Intoxicating possibilities. There were sights and sounds there, and colors, and flavors… green mint and copper, burnt sugar and smoky leather…
And as this ludicrous battle was raging in my head, he stood there silently, patiently, completely ignorant to my self-imposed torture. Or maybe completely cognizant.
I held my breath. I decided.
"Yes."
He smiled at the floor before looking at me from underneath his long, thick eyelashes. I wrestled with the urge to reach out and touch them, to run my fingertips along his cheekbone and ghost the copper hairs that lay there, soft and feathery.
"Then fair warning." He raised an eyebrow. "My first question will be a follow up regarding your taste in music."
"Well!" Jessica's voice rang out, the cacophony of her shrill sounds destroying the peaceful calm. Edward and I both turned toward her, startled.
"I'm all done!" She gathered her bag and coat and stood. Her breasts jiggled obscenely in her tight pink sweater. "Edward, would you mind terribly walking me to my car, please?"
Edward slowly turned back to me. He looked dazed.
"I…" He shook his head slowly. "Are you all done, Ms. Swan? Are you ready to leave?"
I glanced over his shoulder at Jessica. She was glaring at me, her lower lip jutting out in a ridiculous pout. Instinctually, my hands balled into fists.
"No, I'm not, unfortunately."
"I would wait for you."
His words curled into my ears, settled in my fluttering heart.
"I have no idea how much longer I am going to take." My words were heavy, laden with an unintentional confessions. His eyes never left mine. "But I'll be fine, really."
"I have no doubt you'll be fine, I just want to make sure that you're taken care of." Again, I was overcome by… something. Something warm.
"Oh, she'll be okay, won't you Ms. Swan?" Jessica smiled wickedly. "You're here so late most nights anyway, I'm sure you're quite used to being alone."
I thought I saw Edward's eyes tighten in the corners, but his stare didn't waver. I didn't even acknowledge her.
"The easiest thing for you to do would probably be to go." I cocked an eyebrow; his forehead furrowed. I hated seeing that tension on his face. "Seriously, go." My throat tightened at the fact that I was trying to convince him to go with the whore, but I saw no other way. I almost felt as if we'd been caught doing something wrong, and Jessica had the potential to make a scene. I smiled at him, lips tight.
Edward looked back at Jessica, who flashed him a brilliant, toothy smile. As soon as he turned back to me, her scowl snapped back in to place.
He laid his hands flat on my desk and leaned over toward me. I inhaled deeply, smelling him, tasting him on the tip of my tongue. He looked conflicted, full… his eyes wandered back and forth between mine. I bit my lip, keeping confessions and irrevocable actions tightly at bay.
"Will I see you tomorrow night, at the New Moon?" His breath caressed my face, and I shivered. I was momentarily embarrassed, hoping he didn't catch my movement.
Right then, I couldn't refuse him anything. I simply nodded.
He straightened up. "Good." He grabbed his coat and walked over to Jessica, who promptly hooked her arm through his hard forearm and pressed her body up against his side. She threw a pointed look over her shoulder directly at me. She was smiling.
"Goodnight!" I called, trying to sound casual. But when the elevator door clanged shut in front of them, I picked up a pencil that was sitting next to me. Somehow, it ended up snapped in two.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Friday.
The next night, I was sitting with Alice and Jasper, feeling nice and relaxed after three shots of whatever Alice had picked out for me. As I was finishing my scotch and water I filled Jasper in about what was happening with the Cullens. I told him about how pleased Carlisle had said Esme would be about his new set of drawings.
I was also keeping one eye on Edward, who was playing pool in the back of the room with Emmett. Jessica, who lately seemed to be omnipresent, was lurking around the table with two of her clones, giggling and ogling the men.
I was definitely losing the battle. Quite literally, I couldn't keep my eyes off of him. He looked… different. He had changed from his work clothes into a tight black t-shirt over dark blue jeans, black belt and a simple leather cuff on his wrist. And, god help me, I thought I could see color licking his skin, lines and swirls of black and blue snaking around his right bicep. I was anxious to see if he would try and talk to me tonight, so I could get a closer look at his bare arms, to see if it was in fact ink on his skin or just my own wishful fantasies.
I forced myself to look back at Jasper.
"I'm simply the shit, Bella. What can I say?" Jazz leaned back and put his hands behind his head. He himself was a sight to behold in skintight denim jeans, knee-high black riding boots and a black and white striped shirt. He looked like a struggling artist pirate. He even had a red bandana tied around his neck.
Alice rolled her eyes at him. "So Bella, I know that your contract with the Cullens is for three months initially…" she took a sip of drink thoughtfully. "But what happens after their construction division is all finished expanding? Is there anything else that that they would want from Swan Consulting, or is that it?"
I didn't answer her immediately. I took a sip of my scotch and cleared my throat. "Yes, actually."
"Oh, good for you. What are they interested in?"
"Me."
Alice and Jasper both set down their drinks in unison. "What do you mean?" he asked.
I fingered the rim of my glass as I told Alice and Jasper about Carlisle's non-offer. While I spoke, they both grinned wider and wider, shooting each other shocked looks. When I finished, Alice launched herself into my lap.
"Bella! That is fucking fantastic!" She wrapped her arms around my neck. We rocked dangerously back in the chair, but Jasper reached out nonchalantly to ground us. Alice hopped up and bounced, clapping her hands with abandon. "I'm going to buy you another shot, okay? In celebration!" She whirled around, but I caught her wrist.
"Whoa there, Hurricane Ali. There's no need for that." She furrowed her eyebrows. "First of all, he didn't actually offer anything. He implied he might offer something, if all goes well." Alice started to say something, but I barreled on through her interruption. "And second, even if he did offer, it's not like I could accept the position."
She froze. Her face was incredulous, but it was Jasper that spoke.
"Why the fuck not?"
I turned to him. "How could I, Jazz? I already have a career. Clients. A path. A name…"
"Bella!" Alice grabbed my shoulders. "This is what you've been waiting for! The thing! The Cullen account was just a start… this is your chance to claim your own life, independent of your family business and your father…" She closed her eyes tightly. "I was so right, you life really is about to change…"
She took a look at me and started to laugh. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. Un-angryify your face, I'm done. For now." She could always make me laugh, even when I was pissed. "I'm still going to buy shots. 'Cause I like to party."
She was back shortly with three tequila poppers, and we each contributed a toast.
"To friendship!" Alice cried.
"To fear!" I contributed.
"To antibiotics!" Jasper shrugged. "What? Louie Pasteur was a genius. I think it's toast-worthy."
As he and Alice laughed together, I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. My brain was beginning to get fuzzy, and I enjoyed a moment of mental solitude. I was surrounded by sounds and smells, and I took them all in, quietly reflecting. I wiggled my toes in my silver flats and ran my hands along textured fabric of my jeans; they were skinny and tight, and I could feel my thigh muscles outlined under the material.
The song was just changing on the jukebox. At the opening notes, my swimming brain thought lazily, Oh, I love this song. However, when the lyrics kicked in, a connection was made and my eyes snapped open.
Her breath began to speak
As she stood right in front of me
The colour of her eyes
Were the colour of insanity
Crushed beneath her wave
Like a ship, I could not reach her shore
We're all just dancers on the Devil's Dance Floor…
I was on my feet before I knew what I was doing.
"Excuse me a minute, guys."
A moment later, I stood in front of the jukebox pretending to look at the songs.
What am I doing??
And then he was there. I ducked my head and hid my smile.
"They do not disappoint with their music selection. A fairly decent selection of punk rock... They had your ring tone."
"Impressive." I steadied my hand, willing it not to quake in front of him. I was buzzing, scared… I was alive. I begged Bella to be present during this encounter, not the walking automaton that was Ms. Swan.
He moved next to me and looked down at the jukebox catalog behind the glass. I could see both of our reflections in the shiny surface, and I stole a glance. My eyes were sparkling, my cheeks flushed, but for the most part I looked composed. I found that I couldn't stop staring at his mouth. I wanted to bite it, nibble along the full pink satin ribbon of skin, suck the flesh at the corners of his mouth.
His eyes traveled over the names in front of him. "There are some glaring omissions to their punk library, obviously." His tone was open-ended, and I thought I saw his gaze flicker toward me before quickly aiming downward again. Like he was… sizing me up. Challenging me.
I raised one eyebrow surreptitiously. Is he trying to play with me? For once, I was up for it.
"The Clash, of course." His face was illuminated by the neon lights as he turned his head slightly toward me. "No Sex Pistols, either. What self-respecting jukebox doesn't have any Johnny Rotten? And they only have one song by the Ramones, which is clearly unacceptable." He was staring at me fully now, his eyes sparkling. That was more than I had ever said to him, regarding work or anything else. I wondered if he even knew I could say a complete paragraph.
Well, I'm going to hell now, why stop there…Adrenaline pushed through me, and my mouth blabbed on. "Of course, I wouldn't really expect them to have some of my favorites like The Stimulators, The Misfits, or the New York Dolls. They do have The Kinks, though, which is surprising."
Edward was silent. My searing blush was probably made worse by the neon lights. Oh shit… Perhaps he hadn't been baiting me for my random punk music knowledge, as I thought be had been… In that case, I sounded like a know-it-all douchebag. Awesome.
The nervous feeling was abated the minute I was rewarded with my favorite crooked grin.
Liquid courage coursed through my veins, and for once I refused to listen to the screaming voice in my head. I tried to stay causal as my trembling fingers flipped through the plastic pages. "So was that spontaneous, or was it my first music-related question?"
His long, lean body pressed against the jukebox, facing me. His expression was suddenly both amused and serious.
"It might have been planned." His voice was low and slightly husky, and my nipples pebbled instantly as if he'd touched them instead of just teased me with his tone. The shirt I was wearing was a simple charcoal cotton, three quarter sleeves and gold stitching, but shoulder blades were bare. I hoped he didn't notice the goosebumps suddenly sprinkled across my exposed skin.
I turned away from the jukebox and faced him. I felt bold, empowered. His long arms were crossed in front of him, and his smile playful. I saw color radiating from below the sleeve of his black t-shirt, twisting up to hide under the cloth. I tried desperately not to drool. I fucking loved tattoos.
I raised my eyebrows. "Well, if you do think of a real question for me, I'll be right back."
As I walked past him, I gently brushed his shoulder. My skin sang where it came in contact with his bulk. Intoxicating. Addicting. I craved more.
I didn't look back as I strode over to the bathroom. I thought I felt a certain swagger in my step, and I might have swung my hips a little more than normal.
Pushing open the door, I faltered only momentarily when I saw Jessica and her friends crowding around the mirror, shellacking their orange faces with a few more layers of makeup. Her eyes narrowed in her reflection, but I didn't miss a beat. I was high from my talk with Edward, brave and untouchable. I was just buzzed enough from my scotch to feel pretty damn good, but I was definitely still clear and alert. Right now, Jessica Stanley was just about the least important person in the world to me.
I locked the stall door and tried desperately to hurry up. My heart was racing time to get me back out there, to his side, where we might be able to tease a little more… I wondered what his thoughts on who his vital punk bands were…
"So like I was saying, you should have heard the things he was saying to me last night." Jessica's voice echoed off the tile walls. "He is fucking kinky, that man. And the things he can do with that mouth… oh my god." Her friends giggled, and the sounds bounced off the walls and assaulted my ears. I listened, trapped. My breathing was coming a little faster now, my hands clenching in my lap.
She could be talking about anyone.
Jessica's piercing voice continued, "And we have big plans tonight, too. We're just making an appearance here before we take off and go back to my place." Her laugh was harsh, hurtful. "He pities some people in the office, and he wanted to throw them a bone and say hello. He's almost done with his game with Emmett, and then we're gone." I heard the clipped snap of a compact closing. "Yup, Edward Masen and I are going to have a loooong night tonight."
Their laughter trailed away and I heard the bathroom door slam shut, leaving me alone and trembling.
I pressed my face into my clammy palms. In that moment, I hated Jessica more than I had ever hated anyone in my life. I hated that she'd said his full name, and gossiped about him in a dirty bathroom in a seedy bar. I hated that she'd admitted that something happened between them last night, after he and I had shared our… moment. Or not, apparently. I hated that she was going to get to take him home, probably have him in her bed, and that her pillow was going to smell like him…
But mostly, I hated her for ruining everything for me. Again. I was so tired of feeling good and then being shit on, only to be convinced to try it again… and get kicked in the head once more.
I stood in front of the mirror and appraised my reflection. I looked fine from the outside, great even; my cheeks were flushed with color, lips full and red, eyes dark and smoky. I had let Alice put more makeup on me than I was used to, a gesture that felt brave at the time but now made me look and feel even more brainless. But my eyes… they weren't sparkling anymore. They were flat and defeated, like wet mud framed in a fringe of chestnut brown.
Sighing heavily, I shook my head. I shouldn't even be surprised. He's wonderful and friendly and well liked. I'm…
I'm Ms. Swan.
I felt very, very stupid for what I had let myself do tonight. What I was ready to go do… to go out there, to put on a show for everyone. To act like a person. I was so tired of second-guessing myself… I just want to stop thinking. I wanted to go home.
I was way too tired to even beat myself up now. I'd save it for tomorrow morning.
Alice was startled by my gentle touch to her shoulder. She took one look at my expression and rotated her whole body in her seat to face me. "What happened? What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Something. Alice, Jasper, I'm so sorry… I think I'm just going to go home." I didn't bother with an excuse; I just leaned over and picked up my purse. I didn't dare look up, as Edward was probably already being accosted by Jessica, who was more than likely trying to get him to leave early with her. I couldn't watch that happen.
I shook my head, trying to clear the thought out of my head. Useless thinking. He wasn't even real to me yet. Later, not now. I'd punish myself later.
Alice frowned. "Running away again, huh?"
"Ali, I don't need…"
She waved her hand. "I'm sorry, babe. That was uncalled for. No need to explain. I'll see you at home, okay? Call me if you need me." She gave me a smile, but her eyes were sad and disappointed. Jasper reached up and gave me a tight hug, but his face wore an identical expression to Alice.
I nodded. "I'll talk to you later, guys. I promise."
I practically ran and pushed my way out into the cool night air. It was actually a beautiful night, clear and crisp. Alice hadn't brought me a jacket and I'd left mine at the office and of course, there were no taxis waiting directly outside tonight, so I wrapped my hands around my arms and rubbed, as if I could brush the chill and shame from my skin.
This is part of my punishment, I thought bitterly. I'm three for three on freaking out and leaving this bar, like a psychopath. Way to try. The friction did little to stave off the cold; I shifted from leg to leg and willed my teeth not to chatter.
"Leaving so soon?"
I stiffened, embarrassed that he had caught me. I saw him out of the corner of my eye, and oh no, he had put on a tight leather jacket. Wild hair and sexy smile and leather. God help me. My chest tightened and my cheeks were hot against the cold night air.
"Yes, I'm going to go home. I don't want to be out too late."
"Are you sure? Because we haven't heard Blitzkrieg Bop yet, and I was thinking we'd go listen to it and start a slamdance."
My throat constricted at his casual, easy humor. It was hurting me, and I was beginning to resent him for it.
He took a step closer to me, but I automatically countered with a step away, though his body radiated heat and it cut through the chill of the night.
"Besides," he said softly, his voice deep and soft, somehow turning me on despite my anguish, "you've already left here twice where you were too fast for me… but I caught you this time, and I have to at least try to convince you to stay."
I was struck my how cruel this conversation was. Why would he ask me to stay, only to leave with another woman at the end of the night? A woman like Jessica? My resolve hardened.
"Yes, I'm quite sure." My tone was clipped, distant. I saw him lean back slightly. "Anyway, I should let you get back to Jessica."
I turned and took an unsteady step away from him. I was just going to walk a little way down the block; there had to be a cab coming soon. I needed to get away, put some distance between us…
I swayed on my feet when he gently grabbed my upper arm.
I froze and looked up into his face. We were facing opposite directions, only inches separating our faces, joined by his hand at my arm. He looked down at me. My breath caught in my throat.
"What do you mean by that?"
I shrugged, but my voice was in danger of wavering and betraying my cool exterior. I trembled in the chilly night. "It's none of my business. I overheard Jessica in the bathroom, that's all."
His eyes narrowed. "What did she say?" His voice was tense, and I shuddered under his palm.
"Nothing much… she just… she mentioned your night together last night, and how you both had… uh, plans for later tonight as well." The pain was simmering in my gut, low and constant. I hoped I sounded calm.
Edward groaned. "Oh my god. She is impossible." He sounded frustrated as he rubbed his palm over his cheek, and I was rewarded with the brilliant rasp of fingertips over stubble. "I try to be polite to her, because I've heard rumors that Jessica can make office life… difficult for people who get on her shit list. I'm trying to avoid the drama, but she is making it increasingly difficult." He laughed, but it was humorless. "Jessica is… confused. Actually, delusional might be a better word."
I watched him, silent and swaying.
"Last night, when she asked me to walk her all the way to her car? Yeah, it was parked at her apartment building, seven blocks away from the office." He rolled his eyes. "She blabbed on and on about the most inane things… sex, money, clothes… I guess I must have grunted in all of the right places if she thinks we 'did' something. And tonight, she just would not stop insisting that she and I go 'do' something. I keep trying every excuse I can think of to turn her down… She does this all the time. Her latest tactic is to ask me for rides, and then talk my ear off about her sexual escapades the entire was home. I guess it's supposed to be exciting." He shook his head. "It's disgusting."
My lungs felt looser, larger. I was finally able to draw a cold breath into my body. "Really?"
He nodded firmly, eyes not leaving mine. "I have no plans with Jessica tonight." He let go of my arm and promptly shoved both fists into the pockets of his black leather jacket. It fit him like a glove; leather, metal teeth and pure sex. He looked like James Dean, come back to taunt me with narrow hips and bedroom eyes. I wanted to slip underneath the black material, press myself him, to allow him to warm me up and slow my thrumming heart. But I couldn't do that.
"Good."
The rogue word escaped my mouth, quiet and breathy and completely unexpected. My eyes widened, and Edward smiled.
"Do you know what I was really doing last night?" His voice was soft now, and I had to lean in to hear him properly. I shook my head, the world swaying ever so slightly.
"I was busy replaying a conversation that I'd had late that evening, over and over. I was trying to convince myself that I'm not insane for feeling the way I do about a person who, before tonight, I had never spoken to about anything other than work. A woman I've never even called by her first name."
The cool night was still and silent, but between us it was on fire. We stood on the empty sidewalk, facing each other. I could feel every movement he made, taste every exhalation. My whole body shivered, and I knew it had nothing to do with the temperature.
I was at a complete loss for words. I didn't know what to say, or do, or remember how to speak. This was undeniably inappropriate… and I couldn't brush this off as something in passing, incidental. This was real, and it was happening. Right in front of me. I just stood noiselessly and stared, lost in the emerald depths.
He took another step toward me, and this time I did not take a retreating step backward. His heat blazed through me and made my knees turn to rubber. He searched me, and once again I felt like he was looking directly in to my mind, reading the secrets that were hidden there.
"If I asked you to come somewhere with me, right now, would you?"
I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.
I nodded.
Edward smiled.
"Let's go."
AGH! You thought she would get away AGAIN, huh?
Hands down, I have the best readers ever. EVER. It prolly sounds super cheeseball, but I read and cherish every single review, and I love you guys more than green onion dip. And I LOVE green onion dip, lemme tell ya.
Twilighted thread: http : //(dot) twilighted (dot) net/forum/viewtopic(dot)php?f=44&t=5250 I don't visit this as often as I should.
Twitter: ahlthyaddiction. I visit this way more than I should.
Thank you all again… I will work my ass off to get the next chapter up ASAP.
- ahealthyaddiction