Thank you to my beta, Dawn. She's pretty damn incredible.
And a HUGE thank you to Allison, who is absolutely brilliant. I'm so incredibly grateful for her thoughtful edits and observations. Thank you for helping me from halfway around the world, and for dealing with my intense love affair with ellipses.
I know I forget to say it sometimes, but I absolutely do not, nor will I ever, own Twilight. *sigh*
Bella. Friday.
My thoughts were blank; snapping static and disbelief.
He did, in fact, appear to be walking in front of me, bronzed and tall, head fixed straight ahead, shoulders close enough to brush with my fingertips. I trudged along with lead-filled feet; I felt like I was wading through mud. The chill on my skin was replaced with an intense tapping, raindrops pummeling a tin roof.
Numbly, I accepted that I was, indeed, truly following Edward Masen.
What. The fuck. Am I doing.
I licked my lips, tasting the disjointed words lying there: thick, rich confusion, and the complete abandonment of all reason and logic. Isabella kicked and clawed at me from the recesses of my mind, screaming obscenities and words of discouragement, trying to pull me back, make me turn away from him, from possibility…
This isn't you, Bella, the thoughts were a harsh hiss. He going to see how crazy you really are. You know that, right? You should be alone, fucking alone like always, stop now…
But fuck me, just the thought of his long back flexing under that fucking leather jacket was enough to ignore the silent screeching, to block the familiar flood of self-loathing that I felt rushing through my body. I tried to focus on Edward, who was leading me around the back of the bar. As we approached his car, my knees were shaking as I registered the muted click of the locking mechanism.
This is ridiculous. My whispered thoughts were in my voice now. Small and scared, defeated. Confused. This is insane. This is impossible.
I struggled to keep my breathing quiet and my feet planted firmly where they were; I was close to wheezing hot panic into his back and breaking into a full-on sprint. Dangerously close.
When Edward finally turned to face me again, through my whirling confusion I was once again struck by him: his tousled hair, the keys dangling from his long fingers, his flushed cheeks against the cold night whose temperature I no longer felt. He was perfect, and I was splintered and I didn't understand how this was happening.
He opened the door for me, and I was exhilarated and terrified and unsure and a million other things I couldn't remember how to express. I hesitated in the neon light, the muscles in my legs tensed and coiled tight, ready to spring away…
But Edward just stood there, crooked smile inviting and warm, waiting for me: a pocket of calm, bathed in false light.
That just… can't be happening.
My shoulders sagged slightly, and I struggled to stay calm as I blinked and shook and stared at the dashboard.
I should go.
I should go.
I should just go now, please feet move, stop this before it starts…
My decision was as unexpected as the feeling of my bare back sliding against his cold leather interior.
I jumped at the sound of the door closing, my spine rigid and my breathing way too loud.
As Edward walked around to the other side of the car, my eyes whipped up to the rearview mirror, hands fluttering like pale doves, smoothing my hair and rubbing the dark makeup underneath my eyelashes. My eyes were wide and wild, terrified, cheeks scarlet and splotchy in the false light.
What am I doing?
In his fucking car?
Oh shit oh shit oh shit…
My frenzied thoughts were interrupted by the driver's side door opening and Edward slipping gracefully into the seat. I quickly hid my hands in my lap, my fingers twisting into knots.
Surreptitiously, I glanced at his profile. I must have looked as chaotic as I felt, but Edward was still almost too gorgeous in the dim light: calm, luminescent. I was struck by the newness of seeing him from this angle. In a car. In the dark. In jeans that made me want to personally thank Levi Strauss. Close enough to touch him…
Close enough to place both hands on his hard chest, to straddle him in his slick leather seat and claim his mouth for me, mine, for no one else…
Oh no, I silently moaned at my lack of discipline. My mind was swimming and I tried desperately to rein in my thoughts, to gain some semblance of control.
Edward looked at me, and my heart stuttered.
"Ready?"
Not a chance.
I nodded.
My stomach dropped as he started the car and pulled out of the tiny back lot. My fingers fumbled, and I flinched at the sharp clack of the belt buckle. I desperately willed my tense muscles to relax. My stomach heaved, and I swallowed bile and fear and the urge to flee.
In a positively miraculous flash of intelligence, I slid my phone into my lap and sent Alice a text. My fingers felt too big, too clumsy, but I eventually managed to form the words:
Going… somewhere. Safe. Don't worry and don't wait up.
At the last second, I added:
With E.
Edward looked down at my hands as I quickly turned off my phone and slid it back into my purse. I tried to lean back into the seat, but my spine was refused to bend so I sat up straight, awkward and formal.
Edward's stereo had automatically turned on, breaking the silent interior of the automobile. A song continued in the middle of its play: it was piano music, classical and soft. Debussy, I recognized. I had performed a waltz to this in a ballroom competition in San Francisco when I was thirteen… we had taken first place that day, making us national champions.
That would be a great story to tell him, Bells! I heard Alice's voice now, whispering animatedly into my ear. Even her imaginary voice was overly-excited. Tell him about that time. How hard you worked, and how good it felt to win, how you laughed when your partner kissed you in front of everyone…
I shut my eyes.
Show him you're a human being… show yourself you're a human being.
I sucked air deep into my lungs, tasting failure and palpable silence.
Well, say something, for fucksake…
But instead I sat stiffly, worrying at my lower lip with rough teeth and not truly seeing the world roll by.
The song faded into the thick air around us; the silence stuck to my skin like humidity. Thankfully the next song began, and familiar lyrics filled my ears:
If you walk away, I'll walk away
First tell me which road you will take
I don't want to risk our paths crossing some day
So you walk that way, I'll walk this way…
"I love this song." The words slipped out of my mouth, sliding past my determination to remain silent and alert. I immediately hated myself.
Shut up, you sound completely stupid...Oh god, I'm having impulse control problems already. Not good.
"Me, too." Edward replied. He surprised me when, a moment later, he began to softly sing.
And the moon's laying low in the sky
Forcing everything metal to shine
And the sidewalk holds diamonds like the jewelry store case
They argue walk this way, no, walk this way
His rich voice flowed over me like warm water, bathing my stiff back ,washing clean my trembling knees and lips. Blood and full sound rushed under my skin, quick and copper, alcohol and hormones churning and mixing. I closed my eyes, completely wrapped in sensations: his radiating heat next to me, his voice caressing the skin of my collarbone, his smell surrounding me, filling me…
And before I realized what I was doing it, my small voice had left my mouth and hesitantly joined with his.
It was like the sound escaping from my body was alien, originating from some source other than my own throat… but sure enough, I felt hot breath passing over my own dry lips, giving proof of my recklessness. Edward didn't falter. He continued to croon the words, never leaving me alone in the melody. My voice was barely above a whisper and wasn't nearly as good as his, but I sang the warbling female part to his male lead, and our words twisted around each other, calling and responding, filling the confines around us.
Our voices tangled together as our bodies had done in my vivid dreams.
When the song died off, I swallowed hard and let the silence of the car surround me, punish me. Shame pricked at my skin.
Did… did I… just fucking sing?
I am insane. Truly bat-shit crazy. I wanted to apologize for my idiocy, to explain that I was just drunk and I would never have done that sober…
But suddenly, it occurred to me: I would have sung with him sober. Bella loved to sing, and dance, and tell jokes and go on random adventures in the middle of the night. Ms. Swan wouldn't have sung with him. In fact, she would have turned this incredible creature down back in front of the bar with the excuse that it wouldn't be appropriate – the same bar that she would never have set foot in the first place. Instead, Ms. Swan would have gone home and run until sweat and shame seeped from her pores, exhausting any liquid reserves so there were none left for lonely tears.
But Bella didn't do those things.
Maybe tonight… Bella would win.
"So… you like Bright Eyes."
There was no question mark in his sentence. I looked down at my apparently very interesting hands, not daring to meet his eyes. Speak, Bella.
"Yes." Quite the conversationalist.
Edward nodded. "That's a start. What else?"
Guh? My brain felt water-logged. I rubbed my damp palms on my jean-clad thighs. "What do you want to know?"
Edward shrugged. "Anything. Everything. I just…" He brought one hand up and tugged on his copper hair. "I just don't know much about you."
"You knew that I liked tea," I said quietly.
His mouth twitched again and I shook my head, cursing my stupid honesty.
A viscous, frustrated thought suddenly flooded my head. Is this going to get easier?
I wanted so badly to believe that this could work… that this was real. That I was real. However, a huge part of me was just waiting for the other shoe to drop: for the panic to take over, for my truths to be revealed and for him to see that I wasn't worth his attention, not even for the duration of one unexpected car ride.
"I assume there's more to you than tea." He smiled again.
Jesus. Who the fuck am I?
"Well, I like… I like being a consultant." The words were gravel, my mouth cotton and thread. "And… I enjoy working for Swan Consulting."
"Hmm," Edward hummed. He stared straight ahead, his face not betraying what his soft sound meant. I was oddly… ashamed.
Is that all I am? I bit my lip. Fucking work? A name? A desk?
No.
"I like to run."
My breaths were high and shallow, at odds with his deep, even pulls. It was utterly pathetic that I was on the precipice of a panic attack from admitting such a casual fact about myself… but there I was, almost wheezing under the strain of trying to hold it together. I felt cracked open, split, edges peeling.
Edward turned and met my eyes, and my stomach flipped over in those twinkling emeralds. He was smiling broadly.
"You do? Me, too." He looked back out the windshield, his smile slowly killing me, and I was unspeakably grateful that my furious blush was hidden in the darkness.
I know, I thought. I shook my head and let out an embarrassingly loud, shaky sigh. I lowered my head, fingers relentlessly digging at the seam of my pants. I was struggling to remain coherent, to stay collected and calm and not even think about the possibility of having a panic attack in front of him...
"Are you okay?" Edward's words startled me, and I almost groaned.
Clearly, no.
"Yes." I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm just… I'm not used to this."
"Riding in a car?"
I looked at him from the corner of my eye, and his eyebrow was raised, an amused look on his face.
"No." I laid my hands flat on my legs, forbidding any further fidgeting. I felt a bit of the truth shift inside of me, swirl, splash out over the rim. "This. This whole… situation. Socializing at a bar. Spontaneity. Talking about myself."
"And why is that?"
I paused. Words were gathering on the tip of my tongue, but I had no idea what to tell him that wouldn't make me feel like a complete lunatic and/or make him want to kick me out of the moving car.
"I… I just don't think I should." My words felt thick, my speech halting. "I worry about people... assuming things. Judging me, I suppose. It's easier to stay quiet."
The corners of Edward's mouth tightened slightly, and I saw that his hands gripped the steering wheel, the skin stretching across his knuckles taut and white.
"You never have to worry about that around me," he said firmly.
And in a searing stab of awareness, I realized that I actually believed him.
Oh god.
We continued driving in silence, but the quiet seemed to unravel more easily along the black asphalt. Though my palms were sweaty and I still fought to keep them from twisting in my lap, I noted with dull shock that I was no longer filled with fear or the tight guilt that I was doing something wrong.
I knew that it could be the alcohol, this unexpected moment of peace… But fuck it felt good to sit next to him, and in that moment I refused to allow myself to think any more about it. If I let my doubts take root once again, I was liable to fling open the car door and attempt a tuck and roll escape.
Edward asked me if I was cold and flipped on the heater for me, despite the heavy jacket he was still wearing and silently, I appreciated his thoughtfulness. I stole glances at him whenever I could, studying his profile, not unlike a classic oil painting: the curve of his ears, that jaw line that haunted my dreams, the stark outline of his full lips under passing streetlights.
I doubted that I would ever be this close to him again, so I drank in his presence, his energy, memorizing every curve and angle.
The spirits in my system had made my brain slow down, and I was able to take in every detail about my immediate surroundings with sharp clarity. Edward kept thirty-three cents in his ashtray, and other than that the interior of his car was immaculately clean. He was a cautious driver, frequently checking his mirrors and never failing to hit the blinker. He kept his left hand on the wheel, but the right was resting lazily on the gearshift, thumb making idle circles. I clenched my own hands in response to his ministrations; god help me I could feel him tracing geometric shapes on me instead of that dark leather, the ghost of his digit tracing its elliptic pattern in my own skin.
My eyes flickered to his face, where they once again found wet pink flesh.
Fuck. I'm staring at his lips like they owe me money.
In my tumultuous condition, if I were to be caught gawking now I might actually die from shame. And it would be very embarrassing for me to die on Edward's immaculate interior.
Tearing my eyes away from him, I peered out the window into the night, finally noticing our surroundings. We were driving through an affluent neighborhood in East Seattle; there was an ornate wrought-iron fence running along the right of us that curved and disappeared into a cluster of thick trees up ahead.
"Where are we?" I finally asked, curiously. Edward just smiled.
We parked on a street, but it looked to be a rarely-used utility road. To the left of us were commercial buildings, bland nondescript boxes of beige and dark glass. To the right was the thick growth of trees: tall and full, an ominous backdrop.
He had my door opened before I could pull the handle. Biting my lip, I stepped out into the chilly night. I lifted my head and gasped, because I found myself just inches from him smiling face. A trickle of panic ran down my spine, and an irrational thought flooded my brain: I wanted to taste the air between us. I imagined it icy and sweet, perhaps like fat red raspberries, or creamy vanilla.
"Please follow me?" Edward asked softly. "I want to show you something."
I followed closely behind him as he led me into the trees. His scent drew me forward as effectively as the sight of his broad back.
Fifteen minutes ago I was in a bar. Now I'm in the woods. This should be incredibly bizarre.
But it wasn't.
I had no idea where we were. I was having trouble believing that I hadn't demanded to know where we were, or where he was taking me. Rather, I was letting him lead me into the dark unknown, weaving between trees and night toward the wrought-iron fence we had followed in the car.
I was giving him… control.
There was a break in the fence on what looked like an access road, blocked by a low metal gate that was secured with a heavy chain and lock. Edward stopped in front of it, and I hovered below his right shoulder.
Without warning, Edward stopped and turned around. He stepped behind me and gently wrapped his big hands around my waist. I gasped and drew cold air deep into my lungs and reflexively brought my legs up as he effortlessly lifted me up and over the metal gate. When I touched the ground and stood on the other side, I looked back at him, dazed, my skin singing where his palms had been. A second later, Edward leapt gracefully and landed next to me. He gestured behind me.
Carefully, I turned to face the space around us.
And I gasped.
Holy. Shit.
How did he know?
We were standing in the left outfield of a huge baseball diamond.
My astonished gaze swept the field. This wasn't your neighborhood little league field, some dirt lot with a haphazard wooden backstop and metal bleachers. This was a real baseball complex, with a vast expanse of manicured grass and tall, dark stadium lights. There were individual plastic seats in the stands and an elevated announcer's booth at the apex of the stadium, sitting high behind home plate. It was luxe, almost passing as professional; certainly not Safeco Park, but definitely Double A worthy, maybe even Triple A. The outfield was bordered by the wrought-iron fence, and beyond that were the dense trees we'd just come through, creating total isolation.
"Where are we?" I repeated, but this time my voice was smaller, far away even in my own ears.
"The Whitewater Country Club of Seattle's private baseball field," Edward responded. My face must have betrayed my confused thoughts, because he explained further.
"About a year ago, I helped some friends set up the network for this place. They gave us the obligatory tour, and we noticed this gate here was foolishly low…" I raised my eyebrows, and he cast his eyes to the ground and shrugged, his hand finding his hair and pulling gently. "Anyway, every once in a while my friends and I… ah, borrow the facilities for a few hours at night. The security guard here is quite elderly and, fortunately for us, a little hard of hearing." His had slipped down to rub the back of his neck; my fingers twitched, jealous.
"I hope you don't mind," he smiled earnestly, and it was crooked and sweet and I almost sank to my knees on the damp grass, "but you're now an accomplice to breaking and entering."
My eyes swept the field as I took a few tentative steps deeper into the outfield. The sky was clear and full, with stars detailing in every square inch of the inky black canvas above me. I felt him trace my steps behind me.
"Why did you bring me here?" I said to the night.
Edward was silent. I could barely hear his breathing over the roaring of blood throbbing in my ears.
He finally said, very simply, "Because I love this place, and I wanted you to see it."
My muscles tensed as he took another step toward me. "Shit," Edward sighed. "I should have thought this through better. It's freezing, not to mention illegal, and the middle of the night…"
"It's perfect," I blurted unexpectedly. I turned around slowly to face him. He was watching me, his arms loosely at his sides. My brain sputtered and my mouth followed suit. "I love baseball. My father… he used to take me to baseball games when I was very little, before... It used to feel good…" I struggled to focus, to make my words coherent. I couldn't describe it, couldn't vocalize the longing, the joy, the raw… feelings that he had stirred in me. I shook my head, took a deep breath. "This is great."
Edward walked past me, toward center field; I watched him move, graceful and lean, and hesitated. I had no expectations, no plans. For once, I wasn't thinking. I just followed my feet.
I trailed behind him, a timid ghost. I could still feel the stupid alcohol pushing through my veins. My steps, like my thoughts, were unstructured.
Edward stopped but I continued forward, walking a few more feet toward the infield, turning my half-bare back to him. I stood still and rubbed my hands against my arms, fighting the chill while enjoying the night air. I tipped my head backward and closed my eyes; I drew in a deep breath, letting the crisp atmosphere fill my lungs, smooth and unencumbered.
I nearly jumped when something heavy was placed on my shoulders, and I reflexively jerked backward. Edward's face appeared over my shoulder and he smiled apologetically as I lifted one hand to touch the heavy black leather that was now wrapped around me. His arms were almost bare, thick and smooth in the shadows, and I confirmed hints of reds and blues and purples and complex black lines winding up beneath the sleeve of his thin shirt on his left arm. He ran his hand through his hair once more; the muscles flexed and moved underneath his skin, blue veins tracing lines underneath taut skin. His forehead was furrowed, eyes dark.
"I should have noticed that you didn't have a jacket." His tone was frustrated. I realized suddenly that he was upset. "I'm really sorry. You must be miserable out here. Let's go back to the car, okay?"
"No!" The word came out abrupt and sharp, and I immediately blushed, horribly embarrassed but thankful for the darkness. "No," I said more quietly. "I'm fine, thank you. I… I wouldn't mind staying out here for a bit." I tried to sound casual. "Unless you'll be too cold without a jacket?"
Please say yes. Please say no.
"No, I tend to run hot, actually. The air feels great." Yes, I was acutely aware that he ran hot; his fiery skin licked me every time he was close.
I drew his jacket more tightly around myself. "Okay, then."
I toed the grass under my feet, trying to wrap my mind around the situation at hand. Edward and I were together, alone, for the first time. Truly alone. No assignment, no computer issue, nothing. Just him and me.
And I was totally clueless what to do now.
Like always, Edward saved me from my awkwardness by plopping down on the grass directly in the middle of center field, facing the bases. His long legs stretched out in front of him, and he leaned back on his arms. The picture of ease. The nerve of him, being relaxed.
I shifted a few small steps closer; he looked up at me and waited patiently. I sank down next to him, tucking my legs under me, stiff and unsure. We were an arm's length away.
He could reach out and grab me if he wanted to.
I shivered and snuggled deeper into the coat.
We sat quietly for a few minutes, just breathing and blinking and watching the stars above. I wondered if he was waiting for me to speak. I racked my brain for something to say to him that wouldn't be weird, or creepy.
I know how you like your coffee.
Bringing me that tea was the sweetest thing anyone has done for me a long time.
I search for you while running.
I touch you in my dreams.
Over my hammering heart, I heard Edward's low chuckle.
"So… I had this plan. To get you here. And now you're here… and my mind is blank."
My fingers threaded through damp grass. "You had a plan?"
"You could say that. A brilliant scheme that was hatched maybe, oh… 30 seconds after I caught you trying to escape the bar tonight." His laugh was uncertain and so fucking sweet. I wanted to close my eyes, to lean against his chest and feel the vibrations shake through me.
He continued earnestly, "I was just craving… solitude. There always seems to be an audience around you and me. Even when we're alone, we're not alone, you know? And, forgive me, but you never seem… comfortable." His words were gentle, but my face grew hot. I was embarrassed that my daily discomfort was so obvious.
I thought I at least looked like I was doing okay...I knew he could see it. How fucking embarrassing…
Edward seemed to read my mind. "Hey… don't worry about it. I doubt anyone else notices." He smiled at my still-furrowed eyebrows. "I pay attention, remember?" He viciously attacked his hair again. "I think maybe that's why I came up with this terribly planned scheme to bring you here. I find this place relaxing, and I thought maybe… it would do the same for you."
I tried to find the words to say, something to put him at ease, to take the apologetic tone out of his voice… but I was blank, a useless static, unable to quell his worried ramble.
"I just wanted to talk with you," he continued softly, "somewhere away from work or a crowded bar. And this place popped into my head…" He once again ran his hand through his hair. "Like I said, this was all pretty hastily thrown together." He laughed humorlessly. "And now you're sitting on damp grass, and it's the middle of the night… and it doesn't seem like the most amazing idea anymore."
I didn't want him to feel like he had to justify his actions. I wanted to face him, to look his straight in the eyes and tell him that this was perfect, the cold night and his heat, how thrilled and nervous and awestruck and fucking insanely mixed up, how happy he had made me to bring me here and for just fucking existing…
I finally opened my mouth.
"I'm really glad you brought me here," I said softly, cutting off his ramble. A smile grew on his face, and I immediately blushed and averted by eyes. Shit. "I mean, you know, ah… for the opportunity, to get to know one another. It's important to get to know each other, as professionals. For work?" I meant it to sound confident, but it came off like a question. I shut my eyes. Could you look any more weak, Bella? So stupid...
I heard him chuckle again. "I'm glad to be here with you, too. For the professional opportunity to get to know you. Professionally. " He laughed, and I knew he was teasing me. I couldn't help but laugh a little, too; a small sound, barely above a breath… but it was there. And I think he heard it.
"Okay." Edward stretched back on his arms, smiling up into the sky. "So you like Bright Eyes and Celtic punk. What else ya got?"
Bit by bit, he coaxed words from my lips, what I loved and hated, what I had in my CD player at that moment (Rufus Wainwright), and what music I ran to (Michael Jackson). Edward gently drew me out, cracking my shell though light queries; his questions were lyrical as the music of which he spoke, and skipped across my nerves like a stone across water. My heart raced when, in return, he gave me pieces of himself, too. It turned out that Edward was an accomplished musician, having played the piano his entire life.
"Were you any good?" My words wavered, but they also held a slight challenge to them, and I realized that I was being a bit… playful?
Oh, teasing now, Bella? Look who joined the party.
"You could say that." He plucked a blade of grass and rolled it between his fingers; for once, he was avoiding my eyes. "I used to play some concerts around the US. Once at Carnegie Hall. A few times in Europe." I openly gaped at him, but he just shrugged, the gesture tinted blue. "That was a long time ago. I play with computers, now."
"I wouldn't mind hearing you play sometime," I mused, lost in visions of the Viennese Waltz, extended limbs with long lines, legs scissoring between each other, copper hair above a tuxedo collar…
Wait… what?
My eyes widened and cheeks flushed in the darkness.
Oh. My. Stupid. Mouth.
"I think that's a definite possibility." A shiver skittered across my skin, but I was too busy being horrified to really feel it.
Then he asked, "Are you blushing?"
I. Am. Mortified. "That's… embarrassing." I admitted with a tight, short laugh.
"I'll take that as a yes." Edward sat up, placed his elbows on his bent knees and stared out toward home plate. "It's a shame it's so dark out here."
"Why?" My question was breathless, and it hung in the air between us.
Edward lowered his eyes to the dark grass, taking a pregnant beat before saying quietly, "Because that blush is one of the best parts of my day."
His words hit me like ice water. My heart hammered in my temples and my chest caved inward as I stared at the ground. I viciously rubbed the pads of my fingers against the metal teeth of his jacket; I needed to feel the jagged edges bite into my skin. To remind me where I was, to keep me grounded to earth when I threatened to float away on that velvet voice.
From the corner of my eye, I saw him shake his head. "Forget I said anything. Let's move on, okay? Tell me about you as a teenager."
We moved on then, but I most certainly did not forget.
Edward laughed heartily when I reluctantly told him that my punk rock phase had manifested itself in my early teens, and uproariously at my cautious admission that my freshman year in high school I had worn black and metal spikes and had begged my father for a tattoo.
"You wanted a tattoo? What did you want?"
"A sparrow. I wanted to fly away." I flinched slightly. My mouth needs to slow down. But Edward kindly continued on, as if I hadn't said something pathetic.
"Did your father ever give in?"
"No. Charlie had informed me that, 'quality, upstanding girls from good homes didn't get tattoos.' " I shook my head. "Of course, my mother was on my side." I kept my voice even, despite the dull pang that flared in my chest. "She told my father to 'loosen up,' to stop being so uptight. She even offered to take me right then, and to get a matching one in support." I looked down at the grass. "It was very difficult to rebel against my mother, because she always wanted to rebel right along with me."
Edward rewarded me with another laugh, and it didn't matter that I wasn't telling him the whole story. That I hadn't really cared about the stupid tattoo; that I had just been happy that my mother had been there, making an appearance in my life.
I didn't tell Edward that Renee had left the very next day without a word, for another trip… to be with them.
That Charlie and I didn't speak for three weeks after that, and that the silence between us in our huge and empty house had been deafening, devastating. That Renee didn't call again for about four months that time, after my 16th birthday had come and gone.
I didn't tell him any of that. I wanted him to laugh at the image of a young, silly, rebellious Bella with a supportive, if slightly erratic mother. That was much better than the truth, and I didn't want to burden his stunning smile with my childish inadequacies.
I became aware that my muscles were contracted, burning with tension and bitter memories. I forced my fingers to unclench, to push down on the wet ground so close to where Edward's hand lay.
"So," he asked casually, "did you ever get your tattoo?"
My cheeks flared, but I met his gaze. His eyes blazed; green flames against a black canvas. There was a curious burning that I felt deep in my stomach, low and tight.
"Maybe." I bit my lip, and my eyes flickered down to his bicep. "What about you?"
Edward smiled and tugged on his sleeve, bringing the black cotton down to cover more of the color marking his skin.
"Maybe I did, too."
We both laughed. His was clear and confident, mine soft and hesitant. But I laughed, nonetheless.
I was relieved when the subject quickly shifted to our hometowns. While I had been in Seattle my entire life, he had grown up Forks, Washington, which was a small town about three hours away from me. We spoke of our old lives: high school sports and dances, old friends and teen angst. I was mesmerized that, my entire life, this creature had been less than a day's drive from me. I felt oddly… cheated, and I didn't understand why.
Edward's questions continued, prodding and sincere but staying safely superficial. Slowly, I felt myself opening up in spite of myself, talking more and asking him short questions in return. It occurred to me that Edward was patiently stroking my mind, drawing truth from me as he must have pulled music from ivory piano keys. He would smile and listen, look concerned when necessary and interject when appropriate. After a bit more of his patient solicitations, and to my great surprise, conversation flowed freely between us.
When the conversation lulled, we settled into a peaceful silence. My shoulders were slumped with heavy relaxation, no longer tensed up around my ears. My fingers traced lazy shapes in the damp blades brushing my thighs as I snuggled into the warmth of Edward's jacket. I could hear his steady breathing next to me, rhythmic and even, and I shut my eyes and concentrated on his radiating heat that licked at my ribs and eyelids and lips.
His coat had been draped over my shoulders, and when I moved to put my arms through the sleeves, (fervently hoping that it looked like I simply needed more warmth when really it was to draw his scent nearer to me), Edward had cordially reached out and helped me shrug into his jacket.
Stop being nice to me, I had thought as I ducked my head, blushing hot. I don't know how to handle it.
My neck was beginning to hurt from tilting back to examine the sky and from resisting the constant yearning to look sideways at him. My muscles twitched with strain and I hesitated, debating what I should do, what it would look like…
Fuck it.
Carefully, as if trying not to startle a dangerous animal, I tensed back on my elbows, briefly mirroring Edward's posture before finally giving in and lying fully back on the damp, cool grass besides him. A small sigh of relief escaped my lips as I felt the small knots in my neck immediately begin to loosen. My hair was still in a bun, an annoying bump between the back of my head and the earth, so I pulled it free and allowed it to fan out on the ground around me.
Edward glanced down at me, his gaze lingering on my prone body for just a beat longer than necessary before turning his head back to the infield. I heard him swallow, a subtle gulp of air, and a throb resounded between my legs. The flash of heat was a shock against the cool air.
In that moment, I was so grateful to Edward that he had never once made me feel like I was being inappropriate, or too casual, or just plain stupid. He never indicated that he detected weakness, never made me feel self-conscious or doubt myself or my behavior. He was giving me permission to smile, to lay back against the yielding grass, open and honest.
It was exactly what I needed.
As I listened to Edward gently interrogate me, I took the opportunity to turn my head and stare openly at him; I was infatuated by the shapes formed by his moving mouth. His hand still lay on the grass next to mine, and I suddenly wanted so badly to cover it with my palm, trace the tendons with my fingertips. I wanted to feel his smile against my neck, damp with dew.
But mostly, honestly, I just wanted him to keep talking to me.
And when he went to fully lie back on the cool grass, my breath caught in my throat but I didn't cringe away. I willed myself to stay strong, to keep talking and keep my body from shying away.
Calm down. It's okay. You're not doing anything wrong…
I just stared into the inky black sky, and breathed, and ached. Whenever I thought I could, I would turn my head and steal a look at him, my stomach flipping as my brain tried to make sense of the sensations swirling through my body, making me shiver and peak and grow warmer and wetter.
You're feeling, Bella, the Alice-voice said in my ear.
I shook my head. Be quiet, little one.
We started to talk more about his life, and that suited me just fine; there had been enough about me, I craved more of him. He told me about his time at Stanford, but he never once made a big deal about the prestige of the college; he was humble and generous with his praise, instead crediting his success thus far to his mother.
"Elizabeth Masen is an incredible woman. Brilliant, brave, and selfless." The reverence in his voice was so genuine and endearing, and my heart fluttered a bit. "My dad died when I was eight, so it was just me and her for most of my life. She worked hard, sacrificing her time, her money… everything, for me. When I was old enough, I knew I owed it to her to succeed and do everything I could so someday I could make her life easier. The job with Clearwater and Black provided me with enough extra income to pay all of her utility bills every month, which has really helped her out. With Swan, I can help with her mortgage, too." The pride in his voice was obvious. I swooned. "That's why I am so grateful to your father for offering me the position with Swan Consulting. It's a fantastic opportunity for me, and I'm very grateful to be there."
His admiration was touching. "Your mother - she must be very proud of you," I finally said.
"Oh, I know she is. She tells me all the time." His laughed again, sweeter than before; a laugh I imagined was reserved just for the woman who bore him. He rolled his eyes. "But aren't parents required to be proud of their children, no matter what they do?"
I stiffened slightly, but made no indication of my wariness. "I suppose so."
I felt him turn his head. "Mr. Swan must be extremely proud of you and your accomplishments. Your mother, too."
I nodded, but made no attempt to correct him. I felt him rise up on one elbow. I avoided his eyes, instead bringing my hand up and brushing away my bangs. I knew that only Alice would have read my body language, would have sensed my distress… and oddly, inexplicably, I got the feeling that Edward sensed it too.
My throat felt smaller and I forced myself to swallow the thoughts that were beginning to bubble up, memories and images and feelings that I would normally pound into pavement with heavy heels…
Edward lay back down on the grass.
"So… how about Mike's Dilbert coffee mug? Huh?"
I laughed then, loud and real. He turned his head to look at me, and I did the same. My smile wasn't hidden from him now, and we just looked at each other fully for the very first time, staring and grinning like fools. I was still scared, nervous, confused and crazy… but my determination to stay aloof was buckling, my mental wall crumbling all around me, the last bit of my resolve to remain distant, was falling… melting. I felt free. I laughed again.
"Oh, it's great. So great that I wouldn't mind throwing it off the roof of the building." Edward's laughter mixed with my own, like our voices did earlier when we were singing.
The conversation turned to our co-workers. I stayed quiet, mostly, hesitant to divulge anything of substance in the irrational fear that it might ruin something. Old habits die hard, I thought glumly. I avoided discussing Mike and Jessica; even the thought of her stupid fucking heavily painted face made my blood boil. I especially avoided Charlie. I spoke instead of something I had only before mentioned to Alice: about Angela's persistent kindness toward me, and Emmett's sweet teasing.
"They've both been so nice to me," I mused softly, "and I've never been able to tell them how grateful I am." Edward turned his head toward me.
"Why wouldn't they be nice to you?"
"I'm…" My face became hot, and my icy fingers tapped at my breastbone. Jesus, Bella, why did you say anything? I suddenly struggled with my words. I had felt so good right now, safe and happy, I didn't want to ruin the jovial atmosphere with… me. "It's nothing. I'm just… not very popular at the office."
I felt him watching me, his electric gaze searing the side of my face. "Do you really think that's true?"
"I know it's true." I said matter-of-factly. "It's true because I made it that way." I could feel his green eyes watching me, and I gave him my perfectly reasonable, perfectly plotted, perfectly flawed explanation.
"I know how dangerous it can be to have relationships with people in a work environment, friendship or otherwise. My career is very important to me. It's… everything." I dug my fingers into his jacket, relishing the feeling of the jagged metal sinking into my tender palm. "It's easier to stay distant from everyone, and to not get involved personally."
"Hmm." He made a thoughtful sound. "But you're not staying away from me, right now."
My mouth was raw. "No, I'm not."
"Am I dangerous?"
"Yes," I answered immediately. The word hung, cold and simple.
The mood was suddenly solid, electric. My skin was scattered with goosebumps, and my nipples reacted to the charge.
"Why did you really try to leave so suddenly tonight?" His tone was tight.
Fuck. I shrugged, my face enflamed. "I… I told you. I was tired."
Edward paused, but then I felt him nod. "Okay."
I knew he knew I was lying. It killed me. For some reason, I couldn't do it. I couldn't give him a warped version of the truth… I needed to be honest with him.
"I just…" I sighed, and it was a sad, defeated sound, so small against the vastness surrounding us. "I guess it had something to do with Jessica."
Oh god, how do I explain this without sounding completely ridiculous? Pathetic? Like an insane, eaves-dropping stalker?
The conversation was rapidly expanding, pushing beyond just having to explain my weakness for him, my stupid school-girl crush, this impossible whatever I felt toward him… it was venturing into dangerous territory, places I hadn't been in many years. Places where I was a human being, with anxieties and feeling and the capacity to hurt.
This was getting too real.
"Jessica? And what you overheard her say?"
"Yes," I admitted reluctantly. "I mean, not the stuff about you, obviously… well, yes, that too, but…" I stopped and started again.
Oh god. Oh god. Stop stuttering and fix this… control yourself…
I took a deep breath. "She's just very crude, and I think she intentionally tries to get me riled up. I didn't want to exacerbate anything, so I figured it would be better if I just left." That was the partial truth, and I hoped it would suffice.
"Oh." He paused. I listened to the trees murmur around us, until I heard him say softly, "I was waiting for you to come back."
"I know." I was almost whispering now. "I'm sorry. I just… I…" I swallowed hard. How can I be so good around clients… such a strong, confident, capable business woman… and be so completely useless as a person?
"I just couldn't stay."
Please just understand me.
Edward nodded. "That's okay."
And it was. It just was. Relief spread over my skin like cool oil.
"How do you do that?" My question was hopeless, raw, and I couldn't stop myself from asking it. I was beyond that now.
"Do what?" He was being sincere, and I was once again acutely aware of where we were, what I was doing, how close he was…
"Make me… forget where I am, or who I am…" Isabella Swan, hopeless, awkward and lonely and cold… "or feel like I don't know what I'm saying, or doing, or thinking." I spat the rest out quickly. I couldn't believe what was coming out of my mouth. Case in point.
"I could ask you the same thing."
I gasped. Our eyes caught, held, burned together. I wanted to steal his warmth.
Something shifted between us then. The universe tightened, and it was the exact size and shape of that beautifully kept baseball field. I was firmly grounded to the earth next to him. My fingers relaxed, my jaw slackened. It wasn't the booze, or the cold… it was me. I was there, and I wasn't going to waste any more time second guessing myself and fretting.
I was ready to talk to him. With him.
I opened my mouth, and began.
"Top three punks bands. Go."
Once the dam was broken, the flood of words and questions rushed out of me and I soon found that I couldn't stop. I didn't dare go too deep, due to both a lack or bravery and a sneaking suspicion that turnabout would be fair play… but I felt an almost compulsive need to gather every fact about him I could. First job. Favorite flavor of pie. Farthest he'd ever traveled. My questions were silly and childish, but Edward smiled and laughed and answered every question, pausing to think and indulging every trivial query I threw at him.
It was… exhilarating.
Laying there in the cold grass, Edward and I conversed for what seemed like hours. The moon rose higher and higher in the sky, cutting a trail through the coal black night. The pull between us now seemed to be a physical force, a tangible tug, a law of gravity; every time we shifted our weight, or moved a limb, or rolled over to look at the other in surprise or laughter or in anticipation of the next thoughtful answer, it brought us infinitesimally closer together, millimeter by millimeter, until our hands lay so close that I could almost feel his pulse throb beneath his warm skin.
My body and my mind were on fire; smoldering embers on the moist earth.
As if this night couldn't get any more shocking, delightful, confusing… once I finally relaxed, I found that Edward could make me laugh. It started out as soft giggles that I attempted to swallow and stifle behind my balled fist, but he refused to give up on me, and soon the laughter bubbled up from my lips until I couldn't censor myself anymore. I laughed strong and clear, the sound foreign to my own ears. It escaped my body in a rush, as if seeking a long-denied freedom. Edward did an incredible impression of Emmett, and then one of Mike that had me in near hysterics.
I couldn't believe myself. Laughter had only ever been this easy with Alice, and Jasper… and with Charlie. My father had made me laugh when I was a girl, when he still loved me enough to give me laughter and when I was still innocent enough to allow it.
But that didn't matter anymore. I didn't feel like a Swan. Right then, I was the sparrow.
Edward finished telling me a story about a time when he and Emmett had gone out to dinner one night and had encountered an old girlfriend of Em's, who had ended up having to dodge a plate of flying spaghetti. My jaw hurt from laughing so hard. My lungs heaved and gasped, and as I clutched my stomach as I gulped for air he grew quiet. Edward watched me intently. "I like your laugh."
"I think I forgot how much I like to laugh," I answered honestly as I looked over at him. Nervously touching my forehead, I tried to ignore the flare of nerves in my chest. "I, ah… I suppose I used to laugh all the time, when I was younger… but now I'm always working, focusing… life happens, and it just becomes less and less important to laugh," I blathered on. I recognized that he couldn't know what a big deal that was to me, to be saying these crazy things to him, but he listened with saint-like attention.
"It's beautiful." I burned all the way to my ears. Then he said, almost inaudibly, "You're beautiful."
I was on fire, my stomach flipping and spiraling. I didn't know what to say, or how to look away from those malachite eyes that glittered in the dark.
"So where did your laugh go?"
My mouth went dry, my words withered on my tongue. What could I tell him? That my laughter had been both lost and found in a dirty, dark room that I tried desperately not to dream about? That my mother had taken it with her every time she left, or that my father had smothered it gradually with cold indifference?
No. I couldn't tell him any of that. He shouldn't hear it, and I shouldn't give a shit anymore, anyway.
"I don't really know. I think I just grew up." The lie was practiced and painful.
"That's… interesting," he said. Once again, I felt completely transparent. I drew his coat tighter around me, like a shield. "Regardless, I'm glad I finally got a chance to hear it."
He sat upright, his elbows on his knees, twisting a blade of grass between his fingers. "So what do you do to let loose?" He looked back at my prone body, both his head and smile crooked. "Like, go completely wacky. What makes you laugh so hard that tears run down your cheeks? What movie makes you bawl your eyes out? Or--"
"I can't cry."
The second it was out of my mouth, I froze. My stupid fucking candor was unacceptable. Not having the ability to cry was a bizarre phenomenon to personally experience, but hearing it admitted out loud to anyone was insane.
Shit.
"Ever?"
Double shit.
"No." I need to make myself sound less like a serial killer here. "Crying is pointless, you know? It's distracting and unattractive. And messy." I tried to smile at him, to make it feel more casual than the tension in the air made it out to be, but his expression was stoic.
"When was the last time you cried?"
"Almost eight years ago," I answered immediately. "The last time I saw my mother."
Why oh WHY am I saying all of this?
He just watched me, his eyes revealing dynamics that his face did not. I didn't seem to have the talent to read him, but he had displayed almost telepathic abilities with me and my emotions throughout the night. It wasn't quite fair.
"But it's okay, really," I insisted. "I'm just so busy with work… I don't have time to waste being sad."
Edward's green eyes searched mine in the darkness, and I tried to withdraw, to hide away inside of myself… but he held me there. "So you forget to laugh, and don't have time to cry." He made a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat. "That must be difficult." His voice was low, subdued. "To be so busy with work that you don't have time to feel something."
But fucking shit, I was feeling something right then. For the first time that night, I felt genuine fright pumping through my body.
I should be disgusted with myself, for being so weak. So pitiful...
"It sounds so much worse when I say it out loud." My thoughts were coming out of my mouth now. I felt like I had to explain.
"My career is… everything to me. Everything." I was naked in front of him now, admitting things that I never wanted to say out loud. "I can't de distracted by anything, or anyone." I clenched my teeth. "That's just how it has to be."
"Why?"
"So I can be successful."
"What does that mean?"
His question cut me. I tasted weeks of turmoil, of doubting and newness and Alice's gentle observations on the back of my tongue, bitter like bile.
"I don't know," I whispered.
"Are you happy?" His question was simple.
"That's a loaded question."
"It's not meant to be."
"You always have to sacrifice something for happiness." I said slowly, painfully. "To be happy, you have to give up your security, your power, your self-respect. It's not… logical." I swallowed my raspy confession. I spoke to the stars, wishing they could hide me from… everything.
"You have to have a goal, a focus, and everything else is secondary to that. Friends and co-workers, loved ones, family members… The cold truth is that they aren't absolutes. Their affection can waver, grow fickle, leave. Nothing in this life is guaranteed." My stomach clenched painfully. "That's why I have to work so hard to succeed, to focus, to make my own way. To prove that I can do this on my own, be in control, and never worry about getting hu-" I clenched my teeth together. "About being vulnerable."
My hands were balled up into tight fists at my sides. I stared at the sky, terrified to look to my left, at his reaction to my ridiculous speech. Horror, no doubt. Disgust. I was being pulled in a million different directions: It was liberating to say these things, and saying them to him… I was confessing, conceding, spitting out my blackened, atrophied emotions and laying them on the grass between us.
"I don't like thinking of you that way." His words were pulled hard, stark concern in his tone. "Never laughing, never crying. You deserve to feel something." He shook his head. "Do you understand that? You work so hard, all of the time. Everyday. I see you… you don't even look outside the huge window, at the city. You're amazing, capable and brilliant… but you always seem to be struggling."
My shallow breathes were too loud in my ears. "You aren't the only person to say that to me," I whispered pathetically. Oh Alice, if you could see me now.
"I feel things." His quiet admission threw me into shocked silence. I turned slowly to look at him, his skin pale in the moonlight, his profile stark against the purple night that framed him, his crazy hair like a halo above his head. "Things I can't explain. Things I know I shouldn't. I see how you struggle… and I…" Both hands went to his curls, tugging lightly. "Shit. I'm sorry. I'm babbling here."
My heart ached, each beat radiating pain through my entire body. My brain felt slow, sluggish, struggling to catch up.
Edward turned his head suddenly and met my staring eyes. His were bottomless green pools, and I feared that I would tip in head-first, become lost in their depth. And I didn't know if that would be so terrible.
"I've upset you," he said firmly. "Bringing you here tonight was selfish of me."
No.
That wasn't true. As insane as this night had been, as intense as these last few minutes had become, I knew that last statement to be false and I needed him to know that. I had to give him something, something real… it was the least I could do. Even if it destroyed me.
"You asked if I'm happy." I swallowed thickly. "I'm happy now. Here."
"Right now?" He laughed, the sound twisted with disbelief. "In the dark and the cold, when I am so obviously torturing you with questions and terrible impressions and embarrassing confessions?"
"With you." I held my breath against the strain to stay calm, but I didn't close my eyes. I was grateful for the dark, blanketing my scarlet cheeks in shadows. At least that humiliation was spared.
"I made you happy?"
"Yes." The truth was quick, slicing away at my plans, my path. My understanding of myself.
"But?"
"You..."
You will be my undoing.
I couldn't finish. I'd finally run out of words.
Edward sat up on his elbow, the bulge of his bicep sloping from the sleeve of his shirt, ink dripping down his skin in ribbons. He was above me and I laid in the damp grass, his face hovering over mine. Fuck me, he was right there: every line, every sharp angle and soft curve of chin and nose and temple….
He leaned slightly over toward me, and my hands twitched and twisted into the earth with the force it took for me not to grab him, bury my fingers in his thick hair and let him make me feel good, happy, filled, to do physically to my body what his eyes and presence did to me from a distance…
He hasn't addressed me tonight, I thought wildly. Not Ms. Swan or Isabella or Bella or crazy bitch. I wondered if he would, and what he would say if he did.
"There's another reason this job is so important to me." His warm breath caressed my numb cheeks. "Why I'm so eager to come to work everyday. Why I am so fucking nervous every time I see you walk into a room-"
For once, Edward's eyes weren't locked with my own, waiting patiently for me to find them.
They were on my mouth.
"Am I crazy?" His voice was low and gritty. His eyes softened and he glanced back and forth between my wide ones. "Don't you feel it, too?"
Yes yes yes yes–
A ruthless light filled my vision, blinding me. Edward and I both reflexively raised our arms, shielding our eyes from the cruel intrusion.
"Hey!" A voice rang out into the night, carrying loudly across the field. We sat bolt upright. A bright beam of light was rapidly coming down from the top of the bleachers, directly above home plate. "You, there! You kids stay right there!" The light hit the bottom of the stairs and began to bounce wildly, skirting the perimeter of the backstop.
Our heads swiveled toward each other, eyes wide, breaths coming in cloudy puffs between us. I was filled with stiff shock, frozen in place. I can't be caught here. What if the guard had called the police? I imagined what my mug shot would look like: tired raccoon eyes, embarrassed and unfulfilled. I envisioned having to call Alice to come bail me out of jail after I'd been arrested for trespassing. Oh god… I could see Mike's smirk and Charlie's face, judging me as I cleaned out my smooth mahogany desk…
But Edward… he was smiling. A huge, toothy grin, his face beaming. All of the silly, irrational fears about my incarceration flew out of my head, and the weight of the night – the fear and the triumph, the adrenaline, the pure happiness and sexual tension – it all hit me at once.
I grinned back.
We were on our feet and running toward the low fence, feet dancing over the slick ground.
Thank god I'm wearing flats and a supportive bra.
"Hey, stop!" I glanced over my shoulder; the light was now briskly moving over the infield grass; it and the dark figure attached to it were coming closer.
As we quickly approached the gate I sensed Edward slow down slightly and angle toward me, but I was up and over the gate before he even reached it. He leapt easily over the top and landed next to me, his eyebrows. Even in the chaos, I didn't miss that he looked a bit impressed.
We both looked back at the light; it was still coming for us, steadily approaching the outfield grass. My heart was pounding, threatening to explode out of my chest. Edward's eyes jerked toward the direction of the car, but he shook his head.
"We won't make it…" he murmured. His hesitation only lasted a fraction of a second; he grabbed my arm and yanked me toward the biggest nearby tree, which looked just wide enough to just barely hide us both.
Edward positioned his back flat against the trunk and wordlessly pulled me into to him. His arms encircled my shaking shoulders and brought me tightly to his body. We froze, soundless and tense, holding each other in the darkness.
My body swayed slightly with the force of the blood driving hard through me, adrenaline pushing through my veins...
What would Mike Newton think of me right now? Hiding behind a tree to avoid incarceration?
Crazily, I stifled a wild giggle and tightened my hold on his poor shirt. I pressed my face into Edward's chest with new-found abandon, my nose buried in the soft material, fingers twisting into the soft cotton between us.
His arms were hot around me, blazing through the heavy leather. He might have felt my shoulders quiver because he moved one hand up my back, trailing across my shoulder blade and along my neck, threading into my thick hair and I surrendered, leaning my whole body into his firmness, his smell, his heat, god his fucking heat…
The beam of light cut through the darkness surrounding us, sweeping back and forth from the left, vanishing momentarily just to reappear on the right. My heart leapt into my throat. The guard was close now, probably standing just inside the gate not ten feet from where we now hid. We were concealed from discovery, sheltered in the shadow of the thick tree. We didn't dare move an inch, didn't look at each other or try and adjust our posture even minutely. Only his fingers moved, ever so slightly, sinking deeper into my hair, his subtle motions sending disproportionate shockwaves through my entire being.
The silence was deafening. Edward's chest rose and fell under my cheek, and his arms tightened around me.
"You people don't come back! I mean it this time," the voice called out again. I could hear now that it was a man, and from the sound of it he was pretty old and out of breath from his sprint to catch us. The light glared all around us for another few seconds before disappearing abruptly, his retreating steps barely discernible.
Edward and I remained where we were. I took another deep breath of his scent, drawing him in. Oh god he smells like night, like spices and sweet things, something warm and inviting and delicious… I felt his chest expand, too, filling with air that no doubt held some of me as well. His breath hitched, and a small gasp escaped his lips.
I didn't want to move for fear this would stop, that he would pull away and my body would be left cold, exposed, aching for him… because this couldn't be real. He couldn't really be this close to me, pressing in to me, shielding me outside of a beautiful, if illegally accessed, ballpark. I screwed my eyes up tight and clutched at his shirt, the soft cotton crushed between my fingers.
But Edward moved first. The fingers in my hair untangled themselves and slid downward, finding purchase on my chin. He lifted my burning face, and what I saw there made me struggle for breath.
Edward's eyes threw sparks. His stare nearly overwhelmed me, made my knees tremble; his eyes were dark, rich mineral onyx, darting back and forth between mine. His face was contorted in… something. Something intense. I'd never seen his perfect face so revealing, finally expressing the same turmoil that I felt inside each time I was near him.
I felt fire blazing in my stomach, lower, making me swell and ache between my thighs, need him there. I wanted to touch him, to trace his worried eyebrows with my fingertips, feel the softness of his heavy, treacherous lips.
Edward's hands suddenly slipped down, over my shoulders and arms, barely brushing the sides of my breasts before grasping me around the middle, his long fingers wrapping almost completely around my small waist. For the third time that night he moved me effortlessly, spinning me around until my back was pressed against the unyielding tree bark.
I struggled for balance, for solid ground, for composure. His breath was coming in short pants now, fanning over my face, and I was mildly embarrassed to realize I was doing the same thing, my chest heaving, mouth dry.
He took a step impossibly closer to me. He brought both hands up and placed them flat against the tree on either side of my head and leaned forward, pressing into me. My palms found the bark too, next to my hips, and I gripped at the wood with my fingertips. He towered above me, filling my entire existence with heat and torturous electricity that hummed just behind my breasts, which were sensitive and alert, hardened buds barely brushing his chest.
Despite the chill, a light sheen of sweat broke out over my overheated skin, on my back and chest and neck…
My nerves were live-wires; sparks lit my vision.
I could see chaos mirrored in his eyes. In that moment, I pretended that he was like me: torn in half, heaving and trembling.
Edward dipped his head toward mine abruptly, and just like my dream he stopped painfully just brush strokes from my lips and tongue and teeth. The small space between us was alive; bright white and slick, sweat-salty. Tender and rasping.
Edward licked his lower lip. Slowly.
And I panicked.
Pure, unadulterated panic flooded by veins, frigid like ice water and startling like cracking thunder. I sucked in air, but it was just more him, leather and wildness and boy…
I shook my head.
"I think you should take me home…" My words escaped in a razor-sharp rush.
Edward's eyes focused, pupils shrinking until the green now visible again. His head jerked back but his body stayed where it was, searing ,branding me. His eyes were confused.
"… Mr. Masen." I finished. I swallowed, and my saliva was bitter and cold.
Edward stepped away from me then, and my body and my heart mourned the loss. He appeared dazed as he rubbed the back of his neck.
I had never been closer to losing my composure, to letting my frustration leak out from beneath my eyelashes. My vision blurred. I was so angry at myself, so frustrated that this beautiful being, this perfect moon-bathed creature in front of me was here, in front of me, and I couldn't even fucking handle being near him.
You are fucking hopeless.
Edward looked at me, his face once again smooth and unassuming. He gave me a smile, but it held none of the easy mirth from before. It was… well, it looked more like mine. Like Isabella.
I followed Edward back to his car in miserable silence. He opened my door for me and sat down, our gestures echoing our movements from what seemed like days ago when really it was just hours earlier… but now, he undoubtedly knew the truth. I was ruined, damaged, unfit for human contact. I had just proved it. He must see now. The cold leather against my back matched the icy self-loathing I felt inside, like an old friend.
The soundtrack to our ride home was more classical music, haunting and melancholy, wrapping around my hands and legs like bonds. Edward only broke the silence once, to insist that he drop me off directly at home. I wasn't surprised; it was the gentlemanly thing to do, and after what I had learned about him tonight I would have expected nothing less from him. I didn't even have it in me to argue, to put up a fight and insist that he take me back to my car, that I was fine and I could take care of myself… I simply nodded and allowed him to drive me home, murmuring directions while I stared out the window.
As we approached my street, electric regret shot through my veins. My teeth ground together, and my fingers sought… anything. Something to save me.
I can't have ruined this already. Tonight was a blur, and I realized that I needed more time. I had tried to keep reminding myself that it might all end in a moment, that I might never see him again… but that was a real possibility now. I would never see his smile again, not like what he had shown me tonight… only under the harsh fluorescent lights of the office, or the neon glow from across the bar… My heart hurt at the stupid thought.
Edward pulled up in front of my house, which was, thankfully, dark; there would be no small spiky head staring out the front window. He put the car in park and sat quietly, one hand on the steering wheel, the other lingering on the shift.
I could taste misery in my mouth, sour and shameful. Slowly, I shrugged out of his jacket, leaving it stiff in the seat around me, hollow like an empty cocoon. I reached out with one shaking hand and found the door handle, feeling the smooth metal under my fingertips.
Say something. Don't just leave. Make this right…
"Mr. Masen… I'm…" Edward turned his head toward me, and I bit my lower lip. "I'm sorry."
Edward smiled, but again… it wasn't right. It wasn't him. It was fake, a shield, like the ones I wore every day. I loathed it on his face.
"For what, Ms. Swan? I had a nice night. I'm glad I got to know a bit more about you…" he smiled again, that false smile, "and I look forward to working with you."
My stomach sank because I knew I had ruined it. Destroyed. I felt broken, a shattered mirror. I should be pleased, because it was what I had wanted all along, right? To move along as co-workers, professional and distant…
Then why did I feel so fucking empty?
Tell him. He confessed… you can confess, too….
But instead I nodded and pulled the handle, like the chickenshit I was. I deserved far worse than the frigid air that blasted my bare skin, replacing the heat from the car. My teeth chattered as I stood.
Before I shut the door, I heard Edward speak softly.
"Good night, Ms. Swan."
The door clicked shut and I squeezed my eyes shut, the low whimper ripping from my throat swallowed by the gentle hum of the engine. My feet dragged as I turned and shuffled up my walkway. I wrapped my arms around myself, clutching at warmth that I wouldn't feel again.
Ridiculously, I already missed him. I missed a man whose first name had never escaped my lips. I missed him without ever truly having him, even as he idled on my curb, obviously waiting for me to go into my house.
I stopped in the middle of the path. My feet, which were normally so anxious to move, were rooted to the spot.
No.
I couldn't leave him like this. I couldn't, not after tonight, what he had given me. I wasn't going to deny this, to pretend like nothing has happened. Something inside me knew… I couldn't walk away from Edward Masen.
Now or never.
I spun around and took a few quick steps back toward the idling Volvo. Almost immediately the window slid down, and Edward leaned over the now-empty passenger seat, looking at me with concern.
"Mr. Masen," I croaked. I gripped my elbows, my knees shaking, doubt and excitement and fear boiling inside of me.
I looked at his eyes, those gorgeous emerald eyes, and I spoke the truth.
"Yes." I licked my lips, braced myself. "I feel it, too."
And I was moving then, my back to him before I could gauge his reaction. It was too much. All of this… what I just said, where he took me, what he opened inside of me… I had to go.
But now it was his turn to stop me. "Ms. Swan." His voice was even and gentle, but undeniable. I skidded to a halt.
Shit.
I pivoted slowly. Edward was now standing next to his car, his door open, his arms propped on the roof. I almost laughed in relief when I felt it: the crackle, the snap that was still there between us. Edward was smiling.
"I want to see you again."
I gasped and felt heat cover my cold cheeks. He battered his hair, which by now was in complete disarray. He had never looked better.
"And I want to be clear," he said as he walked around the front of the car, and came to stand on the sidewalk next to the purring engine. I unconsciously took another step toward him. "I want to take you out properly. Somewhere we aren't trespassing, where we aren't chased away like teenagers, and you don't almost freeze to death."
"I had a wonderful night." My voice carried over to him on a gentle breeze, and he smiled, and it was real again, and dear god I felt it…
"I did, too." He ran his long fingers through his hair once more before looking up at my frozen figure from under his thick eyelashes. "I want to take you on a real date, Ms. Swan. That's what I want. May I do that?"
The world was different around me: colors were changed from grey to green, darkness reversed to light, cold emptiness filled with heat and weight. I didn't know who I was anymore, this woman standing in the middle of the night, discussing a date with a man. This man. I had never felt farther away from Isabella, from being Ms. Swan than I did right then. I was smart enough to know myself, that this good-feeling would not last, but…
Oh hell. Fuck it again.
"Yes," I croaked. The acquiescence that escaped my lips dislodged doubt in my tired, reeling mind, and I felt a thin ribbon of panic snake around my throat, but I stuffed in down deep. My fingers dug into the flesh of my arms.
Edward's smile widened. "Okay." His face was luminous in the streetlights, his smile tired and blinding. "You tell me when you're ready, and I'll ask."
He knew. He felt my panic, and said what he needed to calm me down. It was unnerving.
"I'll wait for you."
Too much. It was too much for my head, my heart, my resolve…
I nodded one last time, silently agreeing to his terms.
Edward gave me once last crooked grin before ducking back down into his still-running vehicle. I fumbled at my lock with numb fingers and when the tumblers finally clacked into place I opened the door and slipped inside. I heard the engine gun as he pulled away.
In the darkness of my living room, I pressed my back against my front door. My skin remembered rough bark, and heat and flesh pressing into me.
I slid down the wooden door, my legs suddenly boneless, until I came to rest on the floor. My eyes glazed, my brain stuck on flickering images, skipping like a vinyl record.
I have no idea how long I sat there, but when I eventually dragged myself up into my bed fully-clothed the sun was just beginning to peek up, staining my skin gentle pink and tangerine.
Reality would wait; that night I dreamt of confessions and damp skin.
AGH! Updated!!
JTFC, I was so neurotic over this chapter. Ask poor Dawnie, who read and re-read one sentence for me probably 10 times. (*muah*)
Thank you guys SO MUCH for waiting so patiently for this chapter. I haven't gotten even one negative PM, demanding an update or asking what the fuck I've been doing… because you guys are the absolute best, and I'm so glad grateful for each one of your reading this right now. Your PMs and reviews keep me going. =) I can promise you this: I work on this story every single day, whenever I can, and update as fast as humanly possible. I love this Bella and Edward, and can't wait to progress with their relationship.
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- ahealthyaddiction
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