I don't own Twilight.
Bella
I open my eyes and realize I have only twenty minutes to get ready. There goes the plan. I think – I think – Edward noticed me, and may find me attractive, or something. Or maybe he's just horny. I don't know. But I have to make sure. I need something cute. I can't think of a single thing I can wear.
Frantically, I go through my stuff. I come across something I don't recognize. It's a shirt, no it's a dress. It's definitely a shirt. Oh, I remember this. Another gem from America's most annoying store - American Apparel. My mom bought it for me along with a bunch of basics. She said it can be worn as a tunic or a dress. Really? A dress? I try it on, since the sleeves are long and it looks like a shirtdress. It's modest on the top, and with flats it can actually be (somewhat?) work appropriate. Ok, probably not, but I just won't leave my cubicle all day. It's white with very thin pale blue stripes and since I'm 5'4 it doesn't look THAT short on me.
Who am I kidding?
After I'm all clean, I throw it on, put my hair up in a messy bun and find the only bottle of perfume I own. Stella by Stella McCartney. Thanks, mom. I hope this smells ok. I don't use too much of it, because I don't want the man to gag when I get into the car.
By the time I make it down to the kitchen, Charlie is there, eating his breakfast.
"You and Edward getting along? He's a fine young man. Be respectful," he tells me.
"Of course, dad. What do you think I am?"
"Just sayin', Bells. Try to make small talk once in awhile. You can be pretty quiet sometimes."
Ummm, is Charlie calling me quiet?
"Ok… Well, I'm leaving now. He's probably already here."
I take a deep breath as I open the door. I'm usually in my hoodies and jeans and walking around like a hunchback, so I try to straighten up as I walk over to the Volvo.
I open the door to see him wearing a ridiculously sexy smile on his face. His wayfarers on, hair messier than usual. My knees go weak and I'm glad there's a seat I can fall into.
"Miss Swan, good morning."
"Mr. Cullen."
I consider crossing one leg over the other. That's sexy, right? But I don't want to make him uncomfortable with my right leg over my left knee basically all up in his face, so I decide my left leg should go over my right knee. I readjust, and of course my shirt/tunic/dress rides up. It rides up a lot.
Edward's mouth opens and closes. Was he about to say something?
Say it!
I pull the shirt/tunic/dress down a little bit and take out my iPhone. There is a new email from this poetry website I waste a lot of time on. I had commented on a poem and had received a response to my comment from a woman who lives in South Dakota.
"Whatcha got there?"
"Oh, just a reply to a comment I made on some blog," I explain.
"What kinda blog?"
Uhh, stop talking like a kid, Edward?
"Poetry blog," I mumble.
"Really? Anything I might know?"
"Cummings?"
"Kisses are a better fate than wisdom."
"Ummm, I guess you do know," I'm blushing, fidgeting with my hemline and biting my lip. He laughs.
"Yep. I was an English major in college."
"Is that your favorite?" I ask.
"No, it's just the first one that came to mind."
"Kisses are a better fate than wisdom," I repeat. Hmmm.
"I agree wholeheartedly."
"I wouldn't know…" There I go mumbling again. And... did I just say that?
"You what?" he asks, removing his sunglasses and turning to look me in the face.
"Nothing."
"No, really. You wouldn't know?" he asks.
"Are you going to mock me? Great. My first boss ever makes fun of my lack of... experience."
"Bella, stop. Nobody's mocking you. You're just so ho--you're so pretty. I'm just surprised. All the girls your age are slutting it up everywhere," he's laughing.
'Slutting it up?'
'You're so pretty?'
Wait what was that he was about to say before pretty?
"This girl hasn't been 'slutting it up' as you so eloquently put it. I'm guess I'm just not the most desirable teenager in Forks. The only people who seem interested are total losers."
Oh, Seth.
"Well, with that attitude, you'll never get l - ... errr. Well, I'm sure Chief Swan scares off all the boys. I know I'm scared," Edward smiles.
"Of my dad? You guys are like... buddies," I tell him, "it's kinda cute, actually. Random, but cute. Why would Charlie scare you?"
Really. What is this fool talking about?
"Bella, he's the Chief of Police. Everyone's a little scared."
"Not you, Mr. Perfect. He loves you. You can do no wrong."
Edward doesn't respond. He merely shakes his head, smiling this ironic sort of smile. I wonder if he runs a meth lab in his parents' house?
I pretend to read stuff on my phone for a little longer and look up.
"Let's play a game," I suggest.
"Uhhh I'm driving, Bella. And we're going to work. You know, where you sit in that cubicle chatting with Alice and reading erotic poetry all day?"
Erotic poetry? What is he talking about?
"First of all, I don't know what you're talking about," I hiss. "Second, maybe you should be scared. Charlie won't like the fact that you used the word 'erotic' in front of his child. Third, I was merely suggesting a quoting game. We come up with quotes, awesome ones, until we run out."
"Little girl, I was an English major. I won't run out."
I look up at him. Wow. He has emerald green eyes.
How had I not noticed how green his eyes are before?
Hot. Too hot in here.
Breathe, Bella, relax. You're a big girl.
"Try me."
Edward
Try Me?
This is where you shut the fuck up and pretend you didn't hear her.
This is where you stop acting like a fool and saying shit like –
"You're so pretty" "Slutting it up" "I'm scared of your father" "Erotic poetry" "I want to bury my face in your tits"
Wait, I didn't say that, right? My verbal vomit didn't go that far.
And since I'm apparently doing an excellent job keeping my thoughts to myself (hah) I tell her to start.
"Ok," Bella smiles, "the laws that keep us safe, these same laws condemn us to boredom."
Palahniuk? Is she serious? What is she saying? Is she telling me something? Is she just being cute and trying to impress me because I'm a lawyer? I clear my throat and say the first thing that comes to mind.
"He only employs passion who can make no use of his reason."
Oh that's great, Edward - Cicero. You rock.
"There is no end. There is no beginning. There is only passion for life."
Cut. I don't know this one. I signal to her.
"What? Can't come up with anything, Mr. Cullen?" she laughs.
"That's not a famous quote. Who said it?"
"Fellini."
"How old are you again? You spend your days reading Cummings and nights watching Fellini?"
"The quote isn't from a movie, I don't think," Bella whispers. She's playing with her phone, tapping on it gently.
I roll my eyes at her. What do I come up with?
"Nobody, not even the rain has such small hands."
Fuck.
Nothing.
"Bella?"
"Hmmm?"
"We're not playing anymore?" I ask her.
"You can't use that quote," she states, her voice cold and stern. "It's unfair. I'm a romantic 16-year-old who has seen Hannah and her Sisters and read that poem over two hundred times. You're a man. I'm flustered."
I'm flustered.
She's blushing. Her hands are shaking a little bit.
"I'm sorry, Bella. Just playing a game. I'll tone it down," I promise, giving her a big brotherly smile.
She looks away, out the window. Fix this, Cullen.
"Your first quote was good. Putting a legal spin to the game."
"Hmmm."
"No? Not your intention?" I ask.
"Just something I think about sometimes. The law interests me. And you know, it's so true. It also brings up the whole idea of how forbidden things are always more fun. So, the laws keeping us safe... ya know. Just a quote," she explains.
"Forbidden fruit," I repeat.
"Apples."
"Yum."
She's blushing again. Or maybe she never stopped.
"We're here. Thanks for the ride Edward, I'll be in my cubicle, reading erotic poetry and chatting with Alice. Great hiring decisions you guys made for the summer."
She smiles and runs out the door.
What in heaven's name is she wearing? Is that just a shirt? Relax, Edward. Down, boy. You can't walk inside like this. Cock pointing towards Bella and her not-quite-a-dress dress. She's like a fucking GPS system for my cock. Follow Jailbait. Follow her to the ends of the earth.
This kid is going to be the death of me.
Bella
"Bellaaa!"
Not again.
"Hey Alice."
"Omigod, love the outfit! Is there an American Apparel around here?"
"I wouldn't know, my mom sent me this dress a couple of weeks ago," I tell her.
"You look cute," Alice sings. "Who are you trying to impress, Bella? Oh! Is it that really cute guy working in the IT department? He's nineteen. He just finished his freshman year at ummm... I don't know where. He's interning for the summer – "
"Alice, I'm not interested in anybody. Really. I just wore the first thing I found in my closet."
"Bella, Bella, Bella. I'm a woman, I can tell. Spill it."
"Really, Alice. We should get some work down before the boss sends us packing."
"Tee-hee. Packing. Edward. Naughty, naughty little Bella," Alice giggles.
"Ugh Alice, you're gross."
She must be high all the time. There is no other explanation for her behavior.
I spend the day doing random things different attorneys ask me to do. I even make some coffee and slave over thousands of documents, making copies. I'm pretty important around here. I've got my earphones on listening to an angsty playlist I have that makes me feel like tortured and sad and lonely. I'm definitely not all of those things, and since I need to be in a better mood, I put on some Black Eyed Peas. I can't dance, really. I mean I suck. I'd fall flat on my face if I tried, but I can't help but move along with the music.
I'm so 3008, you're so 2000 and late...
Why do I have this on my iPod again? Tragic.
"Shit." I turn to see who just tapped me on the shoulder.
Edward. Mmmm smells so good. I need to stop pretend-dancing with the copy machine.
"Bella, psst. Can you come into my office for a second?" he asks.
"Mr. Cullen. Edward. Sure. Sorry."
I go into his office and just stand there. I look around. Lots of pictures of him with a hot blonde, some dudes, an older couple who must be his parents. Who the fuck is the Playboy bunny wannabe anyway?
"Bella. I know you're probably really bored with the work we've been asking you to do. I mean, I'm not gonna lie - this is basically it for our high school interns. We usually don't even have high school interns. But I thought since you enjoy reading and such, maybe you'd like to take a look at some stuff I've got here. I'd like some of your feedback."
"Is this... work related?" I ask him, not really sure why it matters, since I'm not going to say no to my sorta-boss.
"Well, not exactly. I'm on the board of this organization that promotes reading, writing among children from less fortunate backgrounds. One of the things we do is set up activities for them, classes, you know. I've got a bunch of things these kids wrote for a class they take as part of these activities. A creative writing class. Maybe you'd like to take a look? Make some comments?"
"You teach this class?"
"Yes. I'm filling in for someone for the summer," he explains.
"Sure. Umm. You're the boss."
He finds a stack of papers and is handing them over to me, so I reach out for them and our hands touch.
Electricity?
Too cliché.
What, then?
How do I describe it?
There really is no other way. Electricity. Through the knuckles of my left hand up my arm through my body and straight to my... down in my ... ummm? Right there? The place with all the warmth. Wetness. That stupid, embarrassing wetness. What is wrong with me? He barely touched my hand.
But it's not just his hand.
It's his eyes that possess me. The way he looks at me, like I'm the most fascinating thing he's ever seen. No wonder he broke hearts all over the place, if he can look at some intern this way... And the hair. All last night I dreamt - yes I actually dream now, all the fucking time - of my fingers in his hair as I brought his head closer and closer and closer to me, his tongue inside me. Where am I even getting these ideas? Those lips. Those fucking delectable lips. Why does my perpetual state of wetness surprise me? I have never felt this way before. I need to run out before I make a fool of myself.
After handing me the papers, he doesn't say anything and I walk out as fast as I can. I sit in my chair, swirling around.
"IT boy?"
"Hmmm?"
"You must've just seen your IT boy," Alice says.
No Alice, I didn't see a boy, I saw a man. The man who has taken over my brain. I want to bring my hand down between my legs and close my eyes and touch myself, ease the tension. I want to imagine his fingers everywhere. I never had the desire to have anybody's fingers there. Now I want to take his hand, place it on me and pray he never lets go.
Seven. More. Weeks.
Edward
What the fuck was that?
Did I just get hard touching her hand?
We need an intervention up in here. Where is Candy Finnigan when you need her? Law school really makes you watch way too much weird TV. Good. Candy Finnigan. Cock forgot about Bella.
Bella.
Here we go again...
I want to think I'm ashamed. Ashamed at wanting someone this much. She's a child. I've never been with anyone that young. Even when I lost my virginity, it was to a 17-year-old. This is wrong.
Edward, you're not having sex with her. Maybe you can just get to know her. Talk to her – she's so intelligent. Our conversation this morning was better than conversations I've had with adults with fucking PhDs. Just talk. Maybe hang out. Maybe keep in touch until she's older and no longer your employee.
Eighteen, college, no longer an intern.
That's over a year away. How do I keep my hands to myself for a year when I can't stop thinking about the first time I lick her? Or the first time I see her on her knees taking me in her mouth? Or the first time I have her bent over my desk at home? Or the first time I kiss her?
Fuck. Kiss her.
I hadn't even thought of that. My penis took over the minute I saw Bella, and I haven't even stopped to consider the possibility of kissing her one day. Now I feel butterflies. What am I, twelve?
Images of Bella on my lap, kissing me.
Bella lying by my side, kissing me.
Bella in my arms, my hands cupping her face, kissing me.
Dropping Bella off at Charlie's, kissing her goodbye in my car.
Oh shit. Charlie.
Fuck it, I don't care.
Kissing her goodbye outside of Charlie's door.
Bella kissing me in my room at my parents' house.
Bella kissing me at that brunch place by Central Park where you take people who visit.
Bella holding my hand, walking around Chinatown, on our way to eat some pork buns.
Bella holding my hand just sitting in my car.
Bella's head on my shoulder as we watch an old black and white movie on a Monday night in Bryant Park.
What is wrong with me?
She's jailbait.
One: I'm clearly only interested in sex. My brain is coming up with these things just to make me feel better about deflowering Charlie's little girl.
(I'm going to throw up. Did I just think that?)
Two: I'm pretty sure taking a 16-year-old across state lines to fuck her is illegal. I should know this. Fuck, I don't care.
Who are you kidding? Of course you care. You know you can't act upon any of your desires.
I walk out of my office and look over at the cubicles. Alice is in Bella's cube, talking her ear off. I go over to them, thinking maybe my pork bun fantasies have more to do with hunger than with wanting to hold Bella's hand in Chinatown.
"Hungry, girls?" I ask. "I can leave soon and I don't think I can make it all the way to Forks without grabbing a bite to eat first."
Alice looks disappointed. "Edward, I can't! I told Jasper we'd video chat the second I got out."
"Oh, alright. Tell him I said hello. Bella? Do you mind if we stop somewhere on the way back? You can tell Charlie you'll be a half hour late. I'll grab something quick."
"Umm, no I don't mind. No need to call Charlie, he won't be back until tomorrow morning," she tells me.
Then stay with me all night?
"Bella! If you're home alone tonight, you should ask IT boy to hang out," Alice winks at her.
Wait, who?
"IT boy? She's here to work, Alice. Stop corrupting her."
Shit. I need to control myself in front of people here.
Bella rolls her eyes. "Oook Gramps, let's get out of here. Jeez."
She walks ahead of me. Clumsy and childlike at first, but then swaying her hips just a bit. Is she doing that deliberately?
Yes, yes I believe she is.
Fuck her. Hold her. Do not touch her.
Great, not only am I talking to myself, but I have suddenly developed multiple personalities, or identities. I take a deep breath and follow Bella to the car. Friends. I'll be her friend. I'll play the quote game. I'll even listen to her talk about this IT boy if she has to. Just as long as I keep her here for seven more weeks.
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