Sorry I haven't updated in a while, I didn't get my computer over the holidays!
Okay, chapter 4!
R&R!
Okay, so I knew that Edward had broken up with his girlfriend. I knew that he was saying at my house (gulp). And I knew that he was depressed, broken and miserable. Okay, here comes Operation Fix Up. First, I have to do everything myself, and not put pressure on him to do them. Second, I have to show him I was his true friend. Then, hopefully, he will be happy again, and realise that he belongs with me. Well, it's not likely, but it's worth a shot. I have to at least cheer him up. So this morning, after our heart to heart talk, I got my own coffee. The Starbucks was only 2 minutes down the road, walking. When I got back, everyone looked at me like I was Michael Jackson. They stared to no end. Even Edward did.
"What?" I ask. What was wrong with getting my own coffee?
"Nothing…" they all mumble in unison and looked away. In my peripheral vision I saw Edward smile to himself. Step One: Complete. He had less pressure on him now. Jeez, all that walking made me tired. Do I really have to keep this up everyday?
"Uh, Bella, I want to run Where's My Prince again with you. There's a few stuff ups on the band's part, OK?" Steve tells me. I walk into the recording studio where my band is waiting. My band is awesome. They're all experts on whatever instrument they play, and the bassist actually played for Green Day a couple of times when Mike Dirnt was sick. Serious stuff. Anyway, they rock. They're in practically all of my songs, apart from the acoustic ones, which I play myself. It's not expert, but it's satisfactory.
This song is very close to my heart, I wrote it on Valentine's Day, when of course, I had no one.
So where's my prince they promised me
Carry me away
To a castle on a hill
To a better day
So I finish the song and Steve gives a thumbs up. Sweet. Now I can go have lunch.
"I'm going out for lunch. Back in an hour," I announce. Edward stands up.
"I'll come with you," he says. That was unexpected. I nod and walk out without a second glance. I don't want him getting wise on me.
My favourite place to eat is 10 minutes walk from the studio, not that far from Starbucks. It's called Puccini's, and it's the most delicious Italian place in L.A. As far as I know. Anyway, they make the most scrumptious Napoli pasta. I'm vegetarian, so it is essential in terms of Italian food.
So Edward and I walk in, and I automatically sit at my favourite booth. Edward sits on the other side of me.
"So are you gonna pick up all your stuff from your hotel, or do want one of my attendants to do it?" I ask him, referring to his re-location to my place.
"Oh, right. Um, I guess I'll do it. I mean, its not that much. Most of the stuff is still at… her place." Wow, he can't even say her name. I can't believe she's caused him so much pain. If I ever see her again, I swear I'll punch that bitch right in her little puckered face. Oh, that's a terrible thing to say…
"Um, you can have your pick of the rooms. There's like, 10 of them," I scoff. He laughs, but its not right. It doesn't reach his eyes. "So how are you going, since our little talk?"
"Well, I'm going ok I guess. I mean, I'm not crying or anything…" I smile. He kinda smiles back, but, again, its not right.
"Well, that's good." The waitress comes up to us at this time takes one look at Edward, and totally changes her attitude. She puts on a daggy smile, flutters her eyelids, and twirls a strand of hair on her finger.
"What would you like today?" she says in a voice that I suppose to her sounds alluring. I notice she only says this to Edward. Doesn't she know who I am? Ridiculous.
"Nothing for me," he says. What? People with severe romantical (A/N. yes it's a word. I made it up.) problems need food. I gave him a look that said all this.
"Are you sure?" the waitress presses.
"Yes, I'm sure."
"Well, I'll have the Napoli with vegetable tortellini," I say, bringing her back from her fantasy.
"Whatever." And with a flick of her head, she stalks off, wiggling her hips unnecessarily. Bitch.
It was kind of awkward sitting there in silence with the guy I love. Especially since he doesn't look at me for like, 10 minutes. And that was when the waitress came back with my meal, making more attempts to flirt with him, to no avail. I gave her a dirty look as she passed. As I ate, he was playing with his watch, taking it off, and then putting it on again, staring at it. I thought I saw a tear, but then again…. I took me a while to realise that it was obviously a watch that Jessica had given him. It must be engraved on the back or something.
"Do you want to talk about anything?" I say, just to break the tension in the air.
"Not really."
"Then why did you come with me to lunch?"
"I don't know." What? How can you voluntarily go to lunch with your boss, who just happens to be relatively famous, and who you've had a DNM with about your break-up earlier this morning, and not know why???? How aggravating.
So I finished my meal and called for the cheque. The same waitress comes back, unfortunately. She gives me the cheque and I pay in cash. I give her no tip. She looks at it, and glares.
"There's no tip," she says angrily.
"Correct."
"Why?" Her glare intensifies.
"Because you've been nothing but rude, you've paid no attention to me, and you've overcharged me by $10," I say, pointing to the bill. "I bet you don't even know who I am."
"Why would I?" Out of nowhere, the paparazzi storm in. How did they track me down? Ugh! I hate them, but they will exaggerate my point nicely.
"Penny! Penny! Is it true that you have a new man? Can you tell us about your alleged drug addiction?" Oh crap, where'd they get that one from? Anyway, the look on the waitress was priceless.
I take Edward's hand and run the hell out of there. The staff were helpful in letting us through the back door. I didn't even check if they were following us. Oh my god, Edward's hand is sooooooooo soft… Ok, concentrate. Keep running. I look back and Edward is running too, a huge smile on his face, matching mine. A few of the photographers got through, but I don't care. We sprint to the studio, go through the back door and lock it. We are both breathing heavily. Hmm, maybe I should go to the gym more….
We turn around and everybody is looking at us with the most ridiculous look on their face. We look at each other and burst into laughter.
"Are you sure you're ok?" Edward is carrying like, 20 bags. Ok, maybe its like 4, but still.
"Yes, for the last time, I'm fine," he says with a smile.
"I'll show you to your room. It's probably much better than your hotel room." I go up the spiral staircase and go to the biggest room I can think of, apart from mine. The master bedroom on the second floor. It has a massive king size bed, with drapes, and its own full size bathroom. It's quite cool.
"Here you are," I say as I open the door. He looks in and smiles.
"Your right. It is better than my hotel room."
"Oh good. Do you want anything, like a drink, or a snack or -- "
"I'm fine. You really need to stop babying me you know…"
"I'm not babying you!" I say, getting defensive now, but in a playful way. "I'm just being a good host by making sure you don't go hungry."
"I'm fine, really. It's ok," he says, smiling that gorgeous smile of his. It knocks the breath out of me. I have to shake my head to regain my concentration.
"Ok. Well, I'll be downstairs if you need me," I smile. I go downstairs to watch a bit of TV and grab a cup of tea on the way. I make it slowly, trying no to think of the gorgeous guy just upstairs.
My sofa is my second bed. I love it. It's cushy and warm and soft. I could sleep on it all night. Yes…. sleep on it all… night… *yawn*.
"Bella? Bella? Wake up. Come on, you have work to do, songs to record…" Huh? What? Oh crap, I fell asleep! Ugh. I feel my head on the pillow. Pillow? Why am I in bed? I specifically remember being on the sofa. Edward! I hope he's ok. I open my eyes, and see him right there, trying to revive me. Whoa.
"Uh, hi there," I say sleepily. He jerks back, as if not to scare me. Either that or I scared him... "How did I get here?"
"Oh, you were fast asleep on the sofa, so I carried you up."
"Oh. You did? Thanks."
"No problem. Anyway, as I was saying, you should probably get up. Weren't you going to record that new song today? Oh what was it called…"
"Highway Psycho?" I recall.
"Yeah, that was it. Strange song. Why did you write it?" he asks.
"Oh, because one day when I was driving, this lunatic almost runs into me, stops his car, gets out, and asks for my autograph. I told him to piss off. Well, the language was a bit more colourful than that, but you get the drift." I hated that guy. I wrote it angrily like, that night.
"I see. Well, come on. Up you get."