Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. All recognizable characters belong to Stephanie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended. The original content including, but not limited to, the ideas, plot line, characterization and intellectual property of this story are owned by OliviaRising. July 2010.
A/N: I know this update took longer than usual, but, in my defense, RL has been really hectic. I also feel awful that I took so long to send out the teasers, and I'm thinking of ways to make it up to you guys- maybe an outtake?
So my offer still stands: Review = Teaser (It will be WAY more expedient than last time, I promise!)
Thanks for reading and reviewing!
A Beautiful Melody
Chapter Seven
Edward drops me back at my apartment after our lunch- he has some meeting to attend and I have to begin getting ready for tonight. He's not picking me up until eight o'clock, but Alice insists that it will take hours to make me "irresistible". I don't think that she realizes that I'm only going to an art gallery, not the Oscars. But who am I to complain? I have accepted that I need all the help I can get.
I really don't know what to make of the lunch. He wants to take me as his date, yet he doesn't want any type of relationship. But it's not really a date, is it? I mean, I'm the one who labeled it as such, and he was extremely noncommittal in his response.
What are his intentions? God, I sound like an overprotective father- "What are your intentions with my little girl?"
Speaking of fathers, I haven't spoken to Charlie in a while. I wonder how he and Sue are doing... they've been married for what- almost six months? I would call him now, but I'm too nervous about this evening. The last thing I need right now is an inquisitive and suspicious Charlie.
To my dismay, Alice begins the tortuous process of scrubbing, primping, and perfecting the moment I tell her about the date. She thoroughly ransacks my closet and even scours through hers for "inspiration". She shows no mercy when it comes to my rebellious hair and she even helps me paint the nails on my right hand when my left keeps messing up. Even though I'm contemplating strangling her with cord of my hair straightener, I know that only a true, albeit obsessive, friend would go through all of this trouble.
Three long, painful hours later, my hair is styled to perfection in a sleek, braided chignon at the nape of my neck, and I am wearing a black, sleeveless boatneck dress, cinched at the waist with a simple belt, before flaring out into a mid-thigh-length skirt (Link on my profile). The look is completed with a pair of turquoise pumps, courtesy of Alice. I am happy and a little surprised to say that I actually look classy, elegant and a little sultry- perfect for a sophisticated art gallery opening. The bright shoes definitely spice up the look.
Alice insists that I must not apply my make up until the last minute, otherwise I will, no doubt, somehow manage to smudge it. I can't really argue with her there, and the last thing I want is to make a fool out of myself in front of Edward... or the entire population of Manhattan's elite that will undoubtably be in attendance.
I have another three hours before Edward picks me up, and Alice refuses to let me move around too much lest I wrinkle the dress. I have no choice but to pass the time getting ahead on work-related emails and reports. Ugh, it's a Saturday and I'm working- how pathetic is that? Hopefully, tonight will make up for it.
I have finished enough work to get me through the middle of the week and, yet, I still have another hour to wait. Alice is in her room looking over some sketches, while I am left here, in the living room, twiddling my thumbs. I settle for flipping through the channels on the television in hopes that something good will pop up. But, as I quickly flip through each channel, my mind only focuses on what might happen tonight.
Panic hits me when I realize that I haven't eaten anything since lunch. Is he taking me out to dinner before? After? He didn't mention anything about getting something to eat... Oh, no! What if my stomach grumbles loudly and everyone can hear? What if I accidentally pass out?
I want to grab some food quickly from the kitchen, but it's too late- Alice is already coming out of her room carrying her giant make up bag. She will never let me eat while she applies my make up, and there probably won't be enough time after.
"Alice, I haven't eaten yet!"
She looks at me incredulously, her face twisted in annoyance.
"What have you been doing all this time?"
"I... uh, I didn't realize... I didn't think about eating before I leave..."
She lets out a small huff.
"Well, he'll just have to take you out to dinner because there is no way I'm allowing you to smudge this make up."
And with that, she plops down on the couch next to me, already pulling out various, scary-looking cosmetics and utensils.
How can Alice be so nonchalant about the whole thing? I mean, it's not like I can just demand that he take me out for dinner. This isn't is even a real date. He only mentioned the art gallery, that's it.
I'll just have to stuff a bread roll in my purse and eat in the bathroom, when given the chance. The complete opposite of sophistication, I know, but what's a girl to do?
Alice has just applied the last coat of mascara when we hear a sharp knock on the door. I quickly jump up in excitement and give myself a once-over in the mirror. Smoky eyes, nude lips with a subtle hint of gloss, no blush- perfect! I quickly grab my purse and shove said bread roll into it. Alice catches me and gives me a disapproving look, but I just shrug- I can't take any chances.
I take a steadying deep breath to calm my nerves before I open the door.
And there he is, dressed like a god in a perfect, crisp, black suit. I may have gasped in delight, but I'm not sure, because the moment his emerald eyes locked on to mine, I forgot my own name.
He lifts my hand and grazes his lips ever so gently across my knuckles.
"Isabella, you look stunning."
That brings me back to reality, and I feel my cheeks burst into flames.
"So do you," I murmur.
He gives me that panty-dropping, crooked grin and my girly parts quiver.
"Shall we?"
I nod in assent since my mouth has decided to take a vacation. I don't even say goodbye to Alice, who is, no doubt, watching the interaction like some sort of creepy voyeur. I'll have to ask for her unbiased thoughts when I get back.
Edward leads me to his sleek, silver Audi R8 with his hand placed firmly and deliciously on the small of my back. He opens the door for me like a perfect gentleman before whisking off to the other side in a few graceful strides.
The car ride is silent as he gently holds and caresses my hand over the console between us. I feel the butterflies dance around in my stomach as we drive to the art gallery... or maybe that's just hunger.
As if he could read my thoughts, Edward speaks up.
"I hope you haven't eaten anything, there will be plenty of food there."
I suddenly feel very silly about stuffing the dinner roll in my purse. What if it falls out and everyone sees? Oh no...
My internal ramblings aren't helping my nervousness, but Edward's smooth, yet somehow rough, thumb caressing over my knuckles manages to soothe the tension a little.
The art gallery is a converted warehouse with a mini red carpet leading to the entrance. Two big bouncers stand by the doors, allowing inside only the people on the guest list. Several photographers loiter by the entrance, snapping photos of the various couples that make their way up the red carpet and through the big doors.
Edward smoothly parks in front of the valets as they gawk at his impressive car. They open both mine and Edward's door before Edward comes around and leads me toward the entrance, his hand placed firmly on my lower back.
And that's when the fanfare begins.
"Mr. Cullen!"
"Can we have a picture?"
"Who's your date?"
Several of the paparazzi shout in our direction before blinding white flashes burn my eyes. Edward wraps his arm around my waist and I lean against him for support. We stand and smile at the cameras for less than a minute before Edward steadily leads me toward the bouncers.
"Cullen," he says authoritatively to the man holding the guest list.
The man doesn't even glance at the list before letting us in- he obviously knows who Edward is.
The gallery is dim except for the blaring lights that illuminate each of the abstract art works. Strange sculptures dot the dark wood floor, while waiters try to dodge them as they walk around with fluorescent drinks and Hors d'oeuvres on their trays.
"I'm a good friend of the owner," Edward says as he grabs two glasses of champagne for us off the nearest tray.
We make the rounds, stopping here and there when someone greets Edward. I don't know much about art, but apparently these canvases with multicolored paint splashes all over them are worth thousands. The sculptures are equally as abstract and indiscernible, yet people still gather around them and murmur their appreciation.
I have been surreptitiously sneaking Hors d'oeuvres off all the trays that pass by. Edward doesn't seem to notice, he's either contemplating a painting or talking to the wealthy guests that keep coming up to him- a majority being middle-aged cougars.
The gallery is essentially a large room with many dim passages leading off of it. Each passage has it's own theme and a dead end, forcing you to return back to the main room.
Edward and I walk into one of these dark passages, and we are suddenly assaulted with the images of nude females. They are everywhere- from the several sculptures that litter the cramped space, to the walls that are covered in abstract paintings of women's breasts and nether regions. Small lights illuminate the naked bodies and paintings while the rest is bathed in darkness.
Edward smirks when he sees my shocked expression and walks forward to one of the sculptures. The woman's long hair is covering her face, but her nude body is completely on display.
"The female body is the most beautiful creation in nature. That's why so many artists are enraptured by it," he says softly while he traces the outline of the woman without actually touching her.
I swallow hard, wishing he was tracing my body.
"All of the sculptures are inspired my real women."
He is stills his hand and lifts his dark eyes at me.
"Would you ever consider lending your body for art?"
My breath catches in my throat and I suddenly wonder if sex is considered an art. I wouldn't mind lending my body for that kind of art- as long as he's involved.
My panties immediately dampen from the smoldering look he's giving me and I subconsciously take a step back.
His piercing, emerald eyes lock onto mine as he slowly backs me against the wall, like a sleek panther stalking his prey. I am completely at his mercy. The cool wall hits my back as Edward looms over me, rendering me completely defenseless to his seductive charm. He places his hands on either sides of my head, preventing me for escaping.
"Isabella..." he breathes, and I feel his sweet breath wash over my face.
Without any warning, he leans down and captures my lips in a searing kiss. I am momentarily stunned until my hands move on their own accord, tangling in his soft, wild hair. His powerful arms snake around my waist and pull me flush against his hard body. I can feel every delicious inch of him pressing into me as his tongue fights with mine for dominance. I can vaguely here breathy moans coming from somewhere, and in a moment of clarity, I realize they are escaping from me. My mind has gone completely blank; all I can feel and breathe is him. His intoxicating, masculine scent engulfs all of my senses, and only one thought breaks through the haze- I will do anything for this man.
All to soon, he pulls away and I am left panting against the wall. He gives me his panty-dropping smile and I feel my insides melt... I definitely need to change my underwear.
Realizing that people can walk in at any minute, Edward holds out his hand to me, and I gratefully grasp it- I need to be touching him in someway.
He tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear and then lightly traces his finger down my burning cheek.
"Oh, Isabella. What am I going to do with you?" He murmurs, more to himself than to me.
Well, I can think of a few things... and none of them include clothing.
He leads my back into the main room and, thankfully, my breathing has returned back to normal- unfortunately, I can't say the same for my blush.
I'm waiting for him to insist we go back to his place, or mine, but it never comes. Edward just leads me from painting to painting, as if nothing monumental has just occurred. Maybe it wasn't monumental to him... I mean, we were surrounded my naked women- he was probably just in the moment.
I know I should feel relieved that my virtue is no longer in jeopardy, but I still feel the sting of rejection.
The still hopeful and naïve part of me thinks that he is just waiting until we've finished viewing all of the paintings, but the realistic part of me knows that the moment has passed and that if Edward truly wanted me, he would have dragged me back to his apartment immediately.
Once we've sufficiently seen all there is to see, Edward leads me back outside.
"I'm sorry, Isabella- I thought they would be serving proper food. Would you like to join me for dinner?"
Like he even needs to ask- I'm sure he's well aware that he has me in that palm of his hand. So much for the new Bella.
He pulls up to valet of the Four Seasons, and I almost have a heart attack.
Was he actually waiting for the opening to end before he makes his move?
A part of me worried that this is too soon and that I barely even know him, but a much larger part of me is jumping for joy.
Edward looks over at me as the valet comes to retrieve the car, and notices my panicked expression. His eyes immediately widen in understanding and he quickly amends the situation.
"Oh no, Isabella. It's not what you think- they just have an amazing steak."
And just like that, I feel like a complete moron. Of course he wasn't taking me to a hotel suite to deflower me, he's just taking me to the hotel restaurant.
We are once again seated in a secluded booth away from prying eyes.
"That dress looks beautiful on you, Isabella."
I immediately flush and murmur a "thank you".
Once again, Edward orders appetizers, entrees, and wine without even glancing at the menu. I'm starting to wonder if he ever eats at home since he obviously knows these restaurants well enough to have memorized their menus.
Our dinner is spent talking about the various pieces at the art gallery, though it is mostly a one-side conversation since I know nothing about art. I mostly just agree with everything he says, as usual. He doesn't mention the heavy make out session, and neither do I.
I desperately want to ask him about that blonde woman, but I don't want to kill the good mood and I've finally got him talking- even if it just about art. He seems to know a lot about the subject and I wonder if he is an art collector or a secret painter himself.
When he walks me to my door at the end of our 'date', my stomach rolls nervously. Will he kiss me? Will he want to come inside?
Sadly, neither of those things happen. Instead, he gently lifts my hand and places a chaste kiss on my knuckles.
"Good night, Isabella. I had a wonderful time."
I nod dreamily back at him, unable to form any actual words. Then, I fumble around for my keys in my purse for a few seconds before unlocking the door and giving him one last shy smile.
Hmm... Why is Edward playing hot and cold? Why can't Bella seem to decide whether or not she wants to 'do it' with Edward? Will James be making another appearance? Donde esta Japser? And who the hell is this mysterious blonde?
Oh, and no offense to middle-aged cougars- good for you!
Let me know your thoughts! REVIEW = TEASER = HAPPY YOU and HAPPY ME!
xXx Olivia