Happy birthday, sensecoalition!
Edward was practically dragging me out the door. Before I could even gulp and try to moisten my mouth so I could ask what the hell was going on, I was being pressed into the scratchy brick of the back of the bar.
"That was- interesting," he murmured. His eyes were everywhere but meeting mine; he was studying my hairline, his gaze caressing what I'm sure were greasy, disgusting tangles. I watched as he leaned in, his nose tracing some sweat along my chin. He pulled up and finally met my eyes, moving back as his eyebrows knit closer together.
"In… teresting?" I breathed. He had been about to kiss me, I was sure of it. I didn't know if I was furious at myself for wanting it, or furious that it had almost happened. What the hell were we doing? He hated me. Didn't he? He was a jerky a-hole. Wasn't he?
Hot, Jerky a-hole.
He used one arm to lean on the building behind me, his inner elbow brushing my hair. I fought the urge to either move away or jump on him, keeping still while looking straight at his chest. The rise and fall of his shirt placket briefly hypnotized me, so much that I wasn't sure if seconds had passed or hours or millennia. I was brought back by a frenzy inside the bar; James and Garrett must be riling them up again. I wondered what they thought was going on out here. Probably hot, sweaty sex up against a wall.
Not even close. The faintly sweet/decaying smell of the garbage wafted over, and my stomach tweaked a bit in either revulsion or weird anticipation. Something was happening here; I just wasn't sure what.
I searched inside for that backbone I knew I had and finally met his eyes. They were glittering with something- something dangerous, something I wanted. And then, just like that, they clouded over and his condescending piano teacher face washed out whatever sexual tension had been there.
"Thanks for helping me maintain my image," he smiled, smirking and slowly lifting his free hand to artfully mess up his hair. Wow.
"No problem," I sputtered, finally lifting myself off the wall and under his arm. "Wait. What image am I helping you maintain?"
"Sleazy piano bar player who fucks women indiscriminately." His back was still turned to me, and I ignored the bit of skin revealed where his shirt lifted. He was still leaning against the wall, and the faint glow from a distant streetlight was hitting his hip perfectly. Kind of like a beacon. An annoying, oversexed beacon.
"We can stay out here for a few more minutes. I'd hate for everyone to think you were a two-pump chump," I said, letting cold reality and a cold breeze bring me out of the weird sex abyss I had fallen into. He was just being a dick again. Great. I used my best weapon to counteract the immense and overwhelming let-down I was suddenly feeling: my words.
"So, how was Tanya?"
He coughed and turned around.
"Pardon me?"
"Tanya. I saw you guys leave the reception together. She strikes me as a tiger in the sack."
He was silent for a moment, but then he looked at me, his eyes cold and hard as he considered his answer.
"She wasn't terrible."
Thought so.
Oh well.
He was a guy. He had indiscriminate sex. He'd just said so.
I knew how to act from that moment on. Cold, hard bitch. I still had those lessons to get through.
"Say something that will embarrass me." I stood up straighter, readying myself for whatever it would be.
"Come again?" His eyebrows were expressive and cute when he was confused.
"So I'll look all flushed when we walk back in."
"Ah." He considered my request for a moment before moving up to me. Our bodies were touching, and he looked down into my face for a moment. It had been getting steadily foggier and hazier, and that faint street lamp glow was making a halo around us, our breaths visible because we both had slightly opened mouths. Whether his was from anticipation like mine was, I'm sure I'll never know.
He leaned into my neck again, and I had a fleeting image from what seemed like ages ago- sharing a mic. I want your sex. His sex. Just sex, maybe.
"You have very adorable dimples on your back, just above your ass. Made for my thumbs to press into."
That did it.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the too-hot bar, doing his best to act nonchalant. He dropped my arm as soon as we were in view of everyone, but I followed him because I was too flustered to do much of anything else. I was confused and irritated and turned on. Still.
James and Garrett were in the middle of a riotous duo version of "My Ding-a-ling", and everyone was singing along, clapping and carrying on. I'm sure a few noticed the two of us emerging, but I was too busy looking down at Edward's heels as he strolled in and headed toward the bar. I made my way back to Kate, who was looking mighty impressed.
She put out a cool hand to my cheek and pulled my face up.
"You didn't fuck him, did you?"
I was a little startled and began to say- well, I wasn't sure, really- but she dropped her hand and smiled a small little smile.
"Don't worry, I just have a weird radar for these things. We must hang, dear. Garr's gonna want to know everything about your hot little dynamic." I didn't answer, merely smiling and putting up a weak hand in good-bye. I definitely needed to go home and think things through.
Luckily for me, thinking things through didn't keep me from falling asleep when I got home. I was keyed up, but not mentally. I didn't even shower, simply stripping down and tossing on a shirt. I had stayed out too late, and I had an early class.
There was also a staff meeting that morning, and I plopped down in our usual row, waiting for my donuts and my Esme. I hadn't really spoken to anyone since the wedding except Rose and Alice, and I was missing my friends. That must have been why I was so off lately.
"Bella," Jasper said, shocking me because he got there before either Esme or Emmett.
"Jasper. You're- you're on time. Dressed and everything," I smiled, reaching for ritual donuts. Emmett came bounding in a minute or so later, swinging his keys around his finger.
"Yo, there'd better be an apple fritter in there for me," he said, plopping down on my other side, reaching across and scrounging in Jasper's bag.
I basked in the comfort of two of my favorite boys in the world, giving Esme a warm smile when she sailed in smelling like fresh laundry and sunshine as she took the seat to Jasper's right. She took her glazed old-fashioned and we sat there in camaraderie, snickering and joking and mocking the new tank top policy as the meeting progressed.
"So, Bella. How are things?" Esme was asking me as we walked to our morning classes. The English wing was at the far end of the school, and I stopped briefly at the choir room, ignoring the light guilt I felt at seeing the ghosts of James and Bella sitting at Esme's piano.
"Things are… the same," I said, watching as the students filtered in, waving to the ones I knew.
"You seem… troubled? I'm not sure. Do you need to talk?" Her warm hand on my arm made the guilt increase, and I was on the verge of spilling how much I either couldn't stand her nephew or couldn't stop wondering what he thought of me.
Of course, I laughed it off.
"Troubled? No more so than usual." My uneasy laughter must not have satisfied, because she made me promise I'd come over for dinner soon. I accepted, cursing myself that I hoped he would be there, too.
Saturday kept getting closer, and I was visibly agitated. Alice and Rose kept text-taunting me, asking if I had practiced finger movements and the like. They wanted me to go out that Friday, but I begged off, complaining of papers to grade and a headache. For once, they let it go, and I was preparing for a quiet Friday of obsessing over my non-existent sex life when a furious banging at my door interrupted my pizza or Chinese decision.
"Coming, coming," I hollered out testily, tossing down the takeout menus and grabbing a cardigan to cover my braless-ness.
"Darling," Garrett said, sailing in with Kate in tow. They were carrying grocery bags full of… I didn't even know.
"How- what-" I sputtered, grinning because, well- who couldn't use new friends?
The two of them tossed the bags on my counter and started unloading… snack foods. Ice cream. Booze. Oh, lord.
"You're in the book, darling Bella," Garrett said, patting Kate on the butt and hopping up on the tile. "I took the night off and have been dying to see where the object of Edward and James' lust resides."
I looked away, biting a grin, and walked over to the kitchen. Kate was trying to open a tube of cookie dough while Garrett mimed rude gestures with it. They were laughing and carrying on, and I decided I liked the dynamic it brought to my house.
"Lust? Please. They're just wonderful actors and terrible teases," I pretended to huff, swiping my finger in the dough and licking at it daintily. I looked up and Garrett was looking bemused, Kate skeptical. "What?" Why does no one ever believe me?
"Honey, look," Kate said patiently, finally snatching the Nestle away from Garrett's long fingers and walking over to my kitchen drawers. She opened them haphazardly, slamming them lightly with the side of her hip when she didn't find what she was looking for. I rushed over to the baking tools drawer and grabbed a cookie scoop, turning with a flourish to present it, but she had found the silverware and pulled out three spoons, offering one to each of us. I turned, perplexed, and found Garrett popping the top off of a carton of store brand vanilla ice cream.
With fascination, I watched the two as each took a spoonful of dough and added ice cream to it, simultaneously sticking the spoons in each other's mouths and groaning with indecent pleasure.
"Garr," Kate mock-whispered, elbowing him in the ribs. "I don't think she's ever eaten it raw."
"Oh, I think you're right. Our girl here is very plain Vanilla. Straight-up man on top." He grinned, scooping out another spoonful of ice cream and turning to me with a grin. I blushed at the sex-talk, secretly enjoying it. They were like Rose and Alice, with less f-bombs and more suggestive phrasing.
"I prefer to be on top, thanks," I said testily, making to grab the spoon, but Garrett shoved it in before I could get to it. Wow.
"Mmm," I mumbled around the cold. I was suddenly annoyed that I had never been impatient enough to simply eat the dough. And ice cream? Inspired. I closed my eyes and took the spoon, savoring every last drop.
When I opened my eyes, the two of them had such identical smirks on their faces that they seemed like siblings, despite the swarthy, tall dark and short, squat blonde.
"What now?" I asked, exasperated and reaching for the ice cream.
"I can see what they see in you," Garrett said softly, and that time, he wasn't teasing.
"Why, because I savor what I eat?" I dug in, taking a brainfreeze-inducing spoonful into my mouth and chewing.
"Well, that, yes. Bella, I don't think you're aware of your own sensuality," Kate said, taking a bite from the cookie dough like it was an apple.
I snorted at that one. "Oh, please. It's because I blush too much. If they were really that into me, I'd probably have been invited to lie across their pianos, Tawny Kitaen-style, writhing and carrying on like they're so fond of seeing."
"Bella, Bella, Bella," Garrett said, shaking his head and setting the ice cream down on the counter. "Come here." He indicated I should come closer and I did, standing right in between his legs. He was leaning forward so that we were close to eye level. "I know men. Especially James' type. He's into you, but he won't ever touch you. You're too good for him." Kate snorted and I bristled, but Garrett rubbed my arm. "Hush, she doesn't mean you're snooty. She's talking about me." I looked confused, and he grinned, sitting up while Kate explained.
"James is right up Garr's alley, you see," she said matter-of-factly, rummaging around and producing a bag of sour gummi worms. "He likes 'em dirty." Garrett nodded emphatically, mock-playfully.
"No wonder you work at that particular bar, then," I said, looking away.
"Yes, well. It's all in good fun, right? But let's not talk about James. He's sleazy, in the best of ways. I want to talk about high-and-mighty Eddie, and the crackling spark that lights the air when you two are together."
"He's-" I started, but I couldn't finish my own thought.
What was he?
"Gorge," Kate supplied.
"Unattainable," Garrett added.
"Into you," they said in tandem, and while I agreed with the first two, that one I shook my head at.
"No way, you guys," I stuck the spoon in the carton and walked over to the dining room table where I sat down with a huff. "I, I think…" But I couldn't bring myself to finish.
"What is it, darling?" Garrett said gently, hopping down and coming over to pat my knee. He took the chair next to me and leaned on the table, his chin in his hand and his elbow resting on a placemat. "Tell Uncle Garrett everything."
"Oh, and your Auntie Katie," Kate said, running over and pulling out a chair in front of me.
"Edward and I-" I began, but I didn't know where to start. Not really.
"He's giving me private piano lessons."
"That's no euphemism, I'm gathering," Garrett said lightly. I grinned and continued.
"No, it turns out- no, wait. I'm a junior high English teacher, did you know that?" Both shook their heads "no". So I continued, explaining about Masen and Esme, Angela and Tanya. They nodded in all the right places and gasped in mock horror when I talked about waking up naked.
It was verbal vomit. I kept going, and they had the good sense to not interrupt me as I spewed out my insecurities and anxieties about… nothing, really. And I instantly felt guilty telling these near-strangers about this guy, this confusing guy, when my best friends didn't even know the details. It was oddly liberating, and I was able to look Garrett straight in the eye, waiting for what he had to say about the whole situation.
He stared back at me, honesty plain in his expression as he said, "That's quite a tale, honey."
Kate was nodding in agreement. That's it?
"That's it?"
"What, you wanted an explanation? Edward's a man. He's attracted to you. He picks on you. What's there to explain?"
I leaned back, sighing in disgust. If a guy couldn't explain another guy's motivation to me, I was screwed.
"Explain to me why he's such a confusing douchebag."
"Darling," he clucked, shaking his head like I was slow. "It's classic boy-likes-girl, boy-has-issues, boy-treats-girl-like-crap. Only boy is super hot. You need to make him sweat. And let James go, I feel his experimental phase coming." He knocked back a shot I hadn't realized was there, producing a second and third glass and indicating with a sweep of his hand that I do the same. I shook my head. No more booze for me, even if it's with these two.
"You need to loosen up. Bella's a fun girl, let her out to play," he said tartly, taking my shot and rolling it across his lips one-handed. I ignored the fact that I would normally get turned on by such a slick maneuver and chose to pout instead.
"Oh, stop it. You've obviously got your head up your ass about this, but I choose to ignore it because Katie and Garrett have been too long without some juicy soap operas to watch unfold in front of us. Right, Katie Darling?" Kate nodded emphatically, getting up to arrange some frozen quiches on a cookie sheet. Garrett got up and slapped her on the ass before flipping the oven to 350, clucking at her and berating her kitchen skills. The two argued over how to work the timer until I got up, laughing and shoving them both over.
"I may not be confident about my skills with men, but the kitchen is my domain. So move the fuck over." I was laughing and feeling pretty good; it was nice just hanging out with a pair of people who didn't seem to have any kind of agenda.
After hours of eating complete crap and watching Garrett and Katie regale how they met (Garrett saved her from being hit on by "a total Dexter with a boner" by acting like a jealous boyfriend) in hilarious pantomime, I let the two crash in my living room (mostly because neither was in any condition to drive and because Garrett is a big lump when he's sprawled on the floor). The last thing on my mind when I went to bed around 2 a.m. was the piano lesson I had in the morning.
Which was truly, seriously unfortunate when I woke up ten minutes before I was supposed to be there.
Fuck fuck fuck. I had the gross taste of burnt charcoal and dead flesh in my mouth because I had stupidly agreed to smoke cloves with Garr and Kate, and as an added bonus I forgot to brush my teeth. Nasty. I reached over for my phone, repeating "don't be late don't be late" in a near-reverent litany, but of course it was still ten 'til, and I was still screwed.
Sucking in a deep sigh, I flipped the phone open and hit "contacts", scrolling down to the "EC". My thumb hovered over the keypad for a second or two; I wasn't looking forward to his snide remarks when I had just awakened, but I wasn't really one to hem and haw, either. I hit "send".
He answered almost immediately. Didn't he have another student with him?
"Bella," he said, his voice sounding deeper than normal. My body at the reverb his voice made, knocking around my head and pinging down my spine, making my toes curl and my ass clench. Next time, I'm waiting until I've got coffee in my hand before speaking to him.
I had to clear my throat a couple times. I sounded hoarser than usual. Must've been the Grease sing-a-long at 11pm. Gotta love TNT. "Edward, good morning," I rasped, hating how formal I sounded. "Look, I'm really sorry, but I won't be making it this morning." I instinctively cupped the phone when Kate and Garrett came bounding into my room, looking far too chipper for a pair of people who had consumed enough alcohol and sugar to put a diabetic into a coma only a few hours ago.
Edward was saying something and I had to ask him to repeat it. "I said, 'I could have been doing something else, but I assume I'll be seeing you later tonight anyway." Oh, really?
"I actually have plans, thank you. But I promise I won't be late next week. If you want to count this as the fourth lesson, I don't mind." Garrett's face brightened visibly when he realized who I was talking to, and he started mouthing lewd suggestions about what I could be doing while I tried to maintain a straight face. I knew Edward couldn't see me, but I felt like he would be able to hear me. For some reason, it bothered me thinking he might disapprove if I had one of his coworkers in my bed, gay or not.
"I just don't want this to become a habit, Bella," he said, his voice changing pitch again when he said my name. Or maybe it was just my imagination. "It's important to keep up with lessons, and practicing."
"It won't. I mean, I won't. I just had some unexpected company, and I don't want to-"
"Drink that much, ever again!" Kate crowed, and I swear I heard Edward suck in an irritated breath as Garrett let out a giggle.
"Our girl really can't hold in her-"
"Alright, I'll let you go. Bye." He was curt and hung up the phone, just like that. What a jerk. You'd think he'd enjoy the morning off since the lessons were obviously such a pain in the ass for him.
I sat there for about ten seconds, staring at my phone. Garrett and Kate finally stopped giggling enough to notice that I hadn't moved, and Kate adopted a sympathetic face while Garrett sat up on his knees, putting his hands on his hips and looking for all the world like a seriously annoyed Alice.
"What did the prick say now?" he demanded, glaring at me like he wouldn't let it die, ever.
"Nothing," I shrugged. "Told me to keep practicing."
"Ooh, practicing what?" he wanted to know.
"Pi-a-no," I replied, finally setting the phone down and laying back on the bed. I blindly grabbed for my pillow and covered my face with it. "I'm going back to sleep until Monday. Make yourselves at home."
"Who's moving in?" I heard, the voice muffled but unmistakably Rosalie. "Bells, there's a hot man in your bed."
I laughed, feeling a surge of energy that I'd get to introduce my two best friends to my two new ones. It didn't occur to me that there'd be jealousy on anyone's part because Alice and Rose loved fabulous new people as much as any gorgeous, universally loved girls could. I made the introductions and explained how I had met them, and Alice, dressed in a bright yellow pair of daisey dukes, hopped right into Garrett's lap, praising his highlights and asking him about his stylist. Impeccable gaydar, that one.
"Darling, we're best friends already. I hear you're Tink. Fantastic. Do let's talk about how you feel about the explosion of hippie-friendly scarves on today's society. Personally, it couldn't irritate me more than the fact that you can pull off those shorts." Alice's delighted laughter trickled off the walls, acting like a balm on my bruised ego. I had missed this. I had been so wrapped up in my sorry-ass love life lately that I hadn't realized how much I missed my girls.
"Rose, you and Kate have something to talk about," I said, interrupting everyone getting along just fine without Bella. "Rosalie, Katie's mom grew up with Pat Benatar."
"Shut. Up. Shut up. Shut up," Rose said, standing and pointing at Kate. Kate was nodding vigorously, clapping her hands and bouncing on the bed. Alice muttered "here we go" under her breath, and I put my hands behind my head and leaned back on the headboard.
Rose kicked off her ridiculous heels and shook out her hair. She closed her eyes and craned her neck so that she faced the ceiling, revealing the scar under her chin that she got trying to impress some guy by attempting to balance a knife on her palm back in college. Her hips started shifting to the beat in her head, and I could tell by the way she swayed her whole head of hair which song was coming.
"We are young," she whispered, and Garrett hooted, shaking an amused Alice's shoulders and readjusting her on his lap.
"Heartache to heartache, we stand," Rose continued, going on to do the best "whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa whoooooa" I'd heard her pull in years. She continued the song, doing the stiff dance of the whores rebelling from the music video, shimmy and all. We were laughing our asses off, Garrett nearly dropping Alice when it was done. Rosalie bowed to our riotous clapping, grinning and stepping back into her heels.
"I wanna hear about Ms. Benatar," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed and fixing her hair back to a sleek ponytail.
"Wouldn't you rather hear about the continuing saga of Bella and Edward's neve rending sexual tension?" Garrett threw out, casually checking out his nail beds and meeting neither the shocked glare of Rosalie or the indignant, accusatory stare of Alice's.
"Bella. What the-"
"Heyyy, look at the time. I think I'm going to try and find James, see if he'll give me an impromptu lesson," I said hastily, scrambling out of bed before I could be grilled. Great. I was going to hear about this later, and I didn't want to deal with it.
"I guess I really need to call James now," I said to the mirror after locking myself in the bathroom. I was annoyed with my avoidance techniques, but it was a bit much. There wasn't enough room on my tiny bed for all of the personality that was there, most likely discussing how pathetic I was. And I still had to process Garrett's assurances that Edward liked me. I just didn't see it. There was attraction, sure; but there was also something keeping him from crossing that fine line between jerky flirting and actual "wanna go back to my place".
Alice and Rosalie made me promise I'd meet the two of them for brunch the following day. Alice put her hand on my arm and asked if I was okay as she was getting her stuff to leave, and I brushed her off, assuring her that everything was fine. I'm fine.
Sort of.
"Bella," James said, sounding genuinely pleased to hear me over the phone. "This is a nice surprise. I was just heading out for lunch. Care to join me for a sandwich and some sex?" That got me laughing. What a dirtbag. It was kind of refreshing, actually. You gotta love a guy who just doesn't hide who he is.
"Mm, maybe another time. Actually, I was wondering if you'd give me a Saturday lesson as I cancelled on my real teacher," I said.
"Real teacher? Ouch, Bella. That stings. I'm hurt, but I can let it slide if you come over and bring me a hoagie." I got the directions to his apartment and stopped off for his sandwich order. I sincerely hoped he didn't try anything stupid. I might've looked like a creampuff, but the Chief had told me years ago that there was no way he'd let his daughter go off to a hoity-toity fancy college without knowing how to put a guy in a headlock. I knew I could defend myself when needed.
"Hey, gorgeous," James said, opening the door. Hell, but he looked good. He knew it, too. He had that look of a guy who hadn't showered in a few days yet still managed to look respectable. Well, as respectable as a guy wearing a shirt advertising a strip joint could look, anyway. His hair was flat on one side and sticking straight out on the other, and he had a little bit of crust in the corner of one eye. Like an overgrown boy in need of a nice, hot bath. A nice, steamy, hot, long bath.
"Scruffy works for you. Don't shave when you go to work tonight," I said, stepping into his very bachelor apartment. Goodfellas poster, check. Playstation 3, XBOX 360, Wii, and Sega Genesis- check check. Froot Loops and beer cans on the counter. There was a large keyboard and two guitars set up in the living room and clothes tossed all over the place.
"I guess you don't bring the ladies back to your place, huh?" I asked, gingerly putting my bag down on a clean surface. He grinned at me before responding.
"Nah. Most chicks aren't impressed with my bottle cap collection," he said, stretching and yawning and grabbing for the wrapped sandwich I held out to him.
"I love a hot woman with a hot sandwich. Thanks, Bella. So you like 'em scruffy, huh? Noted. For you, James doesn't shave today," he said, taking a big bite and offering me a seat on the couch. He tossed a game controller on the floor and plopped down next to me, offering me a drink and asking about my night.
"What does a beautiful, single teacher do on her evenings off, I wonder?" he said between bites. He had his ankles crossed and on the coffee table, his elbow brushing mine every time he lifted the sandwich to his lips.
"I uh, hung out with friends," I said, purposefully keeping it brief. I knew better than to let this guy in, because next thing I knew, I'd be cleaning his apartment or sprawled out on his bed, and I didn't really like either outcome. Well, I should say I didn't like the aftermath of either outcome.
"Friends, huh? Not… friend? Special friend? Dirty-talkin' piano-playin' friend?" he asked, emphasizing "friend" each time.
"You don't think I was with…" I couldn't say his name. "…with my piano teacher, do you?"
"I don't know. I mean, you guys are all over each other at the bar and I just thought-"
"You thought what? That we were fucking?" I was proud of myself for cursing, and I was both amused and irritated by his questions. What was he doing, gathering information?
"Well, maybe. Edward's mysterious, you're fucking fantastic, and I don't know. There's this spark thing. I know you said you guys hated each other or whatever, but seeing you two together…" he trailed off, leaning down and giving me significant eyebrows.
"Why does everyone say we have this 'thing'? I don't get it. I just… it must be the bar. They put something in the drinks there, I swear."
James had taken a huge bite right then and choked on his sandwich, so I karate chopped his back until he held up a hand in surrender.
"Yeah, that must be it. Come on, let's make with the music." He stood up and grabbed a couple of water bottles out of the fridge before taking my hand and leading me to the folding bench he had set up in front of the Yamaha.
Pointing at the two guitars, I asked if he played them, too.
"No, those are for the legions of chicks I bring back to this place. Yes, I play. My first love, actually," he said, picking up the older looking of the two and strumming a few notes. He lifted his bare foot and put it up next to me on the bench, adjusting the tuners before starting up a song.
I rolled my eyes when I heard the chords because Bono annoys the crap out of me, but I kept my sarcasm to myself and listened as James wowed me with his guitar skills.
"You say you want diamonds and ring of gold," he half-whispered, purposefully making his voice rasp and sounding sexy as hell doing it. Shit, I might need to change my stance on U2.
I found my neck relaxing; I was actually pretty tense, but I had this urge to just let go, so my head fell onto my shoulder as I watched him playing. His stripper tee had pilled a little, it was so old. I was conscious of the slight rhythm he was tapping out on my seat, but it was subtle, soft; it made the bench sway a little, creaking slightly with the movement. The hems on his jeans were frayed and I noticed he had that tan line from flip flops across the tops of his feet, making them look almost dirty in places. I could see the sinews of his bones as the dirt-tan skin stretched, his toes curling slightly as he kept balance.
It occurred to me that I must have spent most of my time at Singin' in the Rain by staring at Edward because I had never really noticed how sensual James was when he sang. While Edward's lips were this tasty shade of red in this middle, like he had just been eating raspberries fresh from the bush in the summer sun, James had one of those mouths that looked perpetually moistened, even though he never seemed to be licking them. The slightly larger bottom lip seemed swollen, inflamed; there was that sheen that came from spending time outside, the kind you see on swimmers and surfers. James here was an outdoors kind of guy, and that would explain the perpetual grit.
He had a thin scar angled sideways on his chin; the white, healed skin was a stark contrast to the overgrow stubble growing around it, like scorched earth burning a path through a field of wheat. He had the kind of beard that went down his neck, and I entertained myself by listening to his morning voice, imagining the sound coming out of the pores in the skin on his throat, becoming raspier as it scratched its way out, making him itchy, making him need a nice, good set of nails to relieve him of the itch. I could see the tiny vibrations his voice box made as he continued singing the simple song, the interplay as his neck skin swayed and juggled around, up and down, pausing only to buzz and rasp and then gulp as he took a breath to prepare for the final guitar riffs.
It hit me somewhere during my contemplation of his neck that James might be trying, once again, to get into my pants. But as he strummed along and really got into it, I saw the moment- that one moment that was simple and true- when for one small instant, I wasn't even in the room with him. He truly loved his guitar, and I felt a little bit flattered that he let me see that. I didn't even know what to say when he finished with an anti-climactic final flick of his thumb across the strings, setting the guitar down gently, not reverently, and turning to face me again. He looked a little sheepishly at me, scratching his shoulder with one hand and half-smiling like a little boy who's rather proud when he's done something by himself without being told.
"Bono? Really?" Sometimes I wished I didn't respond to uncomfortable situations with sarcasm, but it honestly can't be helped. I was actually affected by the song more than I cared to admit, and, well- I really didn't like U2.
"Bella," he said, exasperated. He actually seemed hurt, so I cut him off before he could become a swaggering, brusque asshole again.
"James," I said, putting my hand on the arm that was reaching for a book of Beginner's Piano Chords. "You did it better than Bono."
The look-what-I-did-Ma face returned, and he leaned in, kissing me on the forehead. "You're sweet, Bell. But we're here to show up my buddy, not listen to me screw around on the guitar. Let's get started, shall we?"
I went home an hour later, dazed and more confused than ever. When Garrett called me around dinnertime to make sure I was going to be at the bar that night, I was non-committal and distracted.
I was beginning to think that a little distance from the piano bar and all things Edward and James might be a good idea. I didn't like feeling so abstractly conflicted, and I needed to sort some stuff out in my head.
Hey, this ain't the only thing I'm posting today. Go read my article at the Lazy, Yet Discerning Ficster, out every Friday!