Just a rose, that's all I ask
Tell me you love me, take off that mask
Look deep down inside you and bring that out
Don't make sad, don't make me pout
"Okay, that was great Bella. Thanks. Did you want any effects on the guitar?"
"No, thank you. I like the natural sound."
Well, that went well. I had just recorded a song I wrote about a week ago. I was inspired by a TV show. The girl on the show was frustrated with her boyfriend, who wouldn't say he loved her. Yep, that's about the extent of my inspirations.
"Um, Bella, can I talk to you for a minute?" Steve asks me as I walk out of the studio.
"Sure. What did I do this time?" I ask. Whenever Steve wants to talk to me, it's almost always bad.
"Oh, nothing, I just want to clear something up. Um, well… we all see how you're more chummy with Edward at the moment. I mean, you invited him to stay at your place, you have lunch together, you seem to be with him all the time… and… I've seen the way you look at him. We all have."
"Yeah well…."
"Let me finish. You love him. Don't you?" he asks. Great. I've been sprung. Oh god, I hope Edward hasn't noticed too! That would be my ultimate hell. Him knowing that I loved him, while he thinks I'm a freak and would never ever think of dating him in his life and beyond. Ok, maybe that's a bit dramatic.
"You caught me," I say, hanging my head in shame.
"I knew it. Maybe you should tell him how you - "
"No. No way. Just no. I can't do that. I can't. He just broke up with his girlfriend of three years a week ago. He has enough on his plate as it is. Do you realise what it would do to him? Are you crazy? What is wrong with you? I don't want to destroy him internally."
"Ok, I get it. I'm going for a coffee. You want one?" Steve says, getting up in a hurry.
"Yes, double latte." He walks off. Tell him how I feel. What is he, insane? Ridiculous. Maybe I should write a song about it. I pick up my guitar and start plucking away.
"Bella? Here's your coffee. And you might want to see this." Steve plonks a magazine in front of me. I pick it up, and there's pictures of me and Edward at Puccini's, and us running hand in hand out the back door. The title reads: Penny's New Bird. What? Ugh, those reporters will make up anything. I hope Edward doesn't see this. Better keep it to myself. I stuff it in my bag just before Edward walks in. I sip my coffee to look normal, you know, nothing out of place, and drink too much, and burn my tongue. Owwwwwww.
"Crap! Hot, hot, hot!" Only because my tongue is numb, it came out more like 'hoth'. Edward rolls his eyes.
"I'll get you a glass of water." He comes back 10 seconds later with a big glass of water, like he said. He gives it to me and I drink half of it in one breath.
"Thankths." Ugh, I sound so retarded. Edward smiles.
"No problem." He shakes his head at me. "How did you manage to do that?"
"I havth no idea." He laughs again. Then he looked past me, and reached around me to my bag. He pulled out the magazine. Craaaaaap.
"What's this?" He starts reading it. His face got more and more irritated with each paragraph. "This is ridiculous! Who do they think they are, making up these horrible rumours? What the hell??"
"Jeez, calm down. It's just a magazine article. They've written far worse things about me than that, believe me," I reassure him. I think back to when they thought I was having a massive break down, when I was actually sneezing. Fun times. Edward picks up the magazine, and rips the article right out of the pages. He stomps off and dramatically throws the page in the bin, and walks out the door.
Jeez, melodramatic much? He knows it's not true, so what's the big deal? Well, I guess he's made his position clear. He really doesn't like the idea of us. I'm guessing he'd rather stick needles in his eye than be with me. 'Cause that's going to make my day…
Later, at home, I confront him about it. I figure it would be a good opportunity because he'll have had time to chill, have some dinner etc… He walks into the big lounge room for a coffee, I assume, while I'm watching TV.
"Hey, Edward, why were you so angry before? About that magazine article?" I ask casually.
"Oh, um, I don't know. I just not used to the idea of people writing things about me, I guess," he mumbles. I look back at him; he is expressionless.
"Because it really is nothing. Seriously, they have concocted some way worse things than this. There was this one time, where they thought I was having a massive breakdown, and - "
"Look, I'm really tired, I'm just going to go to bed, ok?"
"Oh, ok. But it's only 9:30," I say, pointing to the clock.
"Yeah, I know. Not all of us stay up all night partying…" he snickers.
"Hey! I don't party every night… just on special occasions…"
"Sure. What was the last one you went to? Snoop Dog's party for his new car?"
"Shut up," I fluster. He laughs and heads up stairs. Gosh, he looks good in jeans… I shake my head to eliminate the fantasy. Thank goodness he isn't a mind reader. That'd be pretty cool actually, to be able to hear what Steve's actually thinking as I sing my songs. Or what Edward thinks of them.
I head up stairs as well. Hey, I hear music… has Edward got his iPod speakers on? Well whoever the artist is, he's a damn good singer. Oh, that reminds me, I better get back my iPod before he goes to sleep. I walk over to his bedroom and open the door. He knows it's me, why bother knocking? What I see amazes me. Edward is sitting on his bed, guitar in hand, manuscript book and pencil close by, working out chords. Oh my god, he's writing songs. The person singing was him. He is looking up at me with the most surprised look on his face. Oh dear, I seem to have blown his secret hobby.
"You write songs? And play guitar? And sing?" I ask rhetorically.
"Well, yeah… I'm not very good at it…"
"Well, let me be the judge of that. What have you got there…" I snatch his book away before he has time to blink. I read it, and it's… amazing. Much, much better than anything I've written, or ever will write, or anyone will ever write. I widen my eyes at the complicated melody, complete with piano accompaniment. He has even written a cello part. Harmonies!
"I never knew you were musical!" I read it over again. Even the anacrusis is complicated. (A/N: An anacrusis is like, an intro to a piece of music, and is before everything. It's usually only a few bars long, or even one bar.) "I have to cover one of your songs. Or even better, you could record one! You could get a record deal anywhere, I swear." I am imagining him on the stage. He would fit right in there. Muso hat and all…
"Whoa, hang on just a sec. Maybe I don't want all that. Maybe I'd rather be normal. I mean, the magazine thing just proves it. It sucks being a celebrity. I'd rather do without all the hype," he says, grabbing the book back, just as I am about to turn the page.
"But your talent deserves to be out there making people happy. You could give any one of those hot new artists a run for their money, myself included." I mean that. I really do. After what I have just read, he could have given Beethoven some competition.
"I'll think about it. Now may I enquire as to the reason you come barging into my room at 10 'o clock at night?"
"Oh, right. Um, I'd like my iPod back, please." My head is still spinning from his music.
"It's already in your room, charging in the dock," he says, looking down at his guitar.
"Oh. Thanks. We'll talk in the morning about your little secret talent. Not that it's much of a secret anymore." I smile and walk out, closing the door behind me. I don't stop smiling for a long time, either. I can't believe he's a muso! Imagine, we could do a duet, or he could do one by himself. I wouldn't mind donating a track for him. Just to hear that voice, dude, I would donate my entire album. He has got a point about the fame thing though. It does suck sometimes. The press, the pressure, people hassling you wherever you go. But then there's the fans, the music, the money (although that's not what I'm in it for. Mostly.), the clothes, the cars, people waiting on you hand and foot, the tours, etc. There are more pros then there are cons. I'll make him see that.
Just as soon as I tell everyone about his talent. He'll sing to Steve, Steve will go nuts, insist he records a song, bada bing bada boom, instant superstar. It will make him happy, even if he doesn't think it will. Happy = goal accomplished. Yes, I'm still keeping to those goals. They are very important.
I am still smiling the next morning.
"Morning," he says as he walks past my bathroom. Oh my god, don't hyperventilate. He is in nothing but a towel. He must have just come out of the shower. I find it hard to keep brushing my teeth as I consider that thought. I'm such a pervert… Oh, better answer.
"Morning! So about this music thing of yours…" I press. He 'aint getting out of it yet.
"Mmm…?" he answers.
"Well, I was thinking you could sing for Steve, and he could hook you up with an agent and everything, and you could record and stuff…"
"Bella, I really don't want to. I just want it to be a hobby, and nothing else. I don't want it to get out of hand," he says, a little louder so I can hear, seeing as he's in his room, a little way down the hall. Probably changing… Bella! Concentrate!
"It won't, I promise. Well, if you don't want to do that, then maybe we could do a duet?" He makes me jump as he answers, because he is now in the doorway.
"Well, depends. If my name's going to on it, then no." In the mirror, I notice that he is still shirtless. Dude, how could I not notice? Ok, I really need to stop looking at him. But it's so hard!
"You want to do it anonymously?" I ask, rising my mouth. I turn around and he now has a shirt on. Dang.
"Yeah, basically, if I have to at all…"
"Oh, you do," I threaten in the meanest voice I can muster.
"I was afraid you might say that," he half laughs. I laugh too. "Well, you're going to have to get dressed if you want me to sing at the studio. I don't think Steve would be very pleased if you turned up in your pyjamas," he says, making me feel self-conscious as he looks at my holey PJ pants. I could buy new ones, but these are comfortable. So what if they have a few holes, no one's going to see them. Except Edward, I suppose…
"Right. Might be a good idea." I turn about, back into my room and shut the door. Part of me wants to leave it open, but that would be just plain slutty. After I'm all dressed and ready to go, he gives me one last look that would make any girl's heart jump.
"I'm going to regret this, I know it," he mutters under his breath.
"No, you won't. You'll be fine. You could charm anyone with that voice." Oh no, have I said too much? Luckily, he smiles and brushes it off.
"Thanks. Well, let's go then. Off to tempt fate."
Hope you liked it! Feel free to ask me about any of the musical terms in this chapter. :)
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