Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns all recognizable characters, plots, etc. Only original content, characters, etc. belongs to author. No copyright infringement intended. Any errors contained herein, are expressly the fault of the authors idiocy, and not her betas.
Word Count: 8545
A/N: It's been awhile. Let's never stay apart for that long again. My fault entirely. Work, injuries, life, crippling writers block…they just get in the way sometimes. You all have the lovely RedVelvetHeaven to thank—or blame…kidding—for this chapter. She helped get me back on track, and kept me motivated while I virtually rewrote this entire chapter.
I'm still not entirely satisfied with this chapter, but that's my own issue. The story is still on track and you have her to thank for it. I also need to thank V, my super-beta, for the quick turn around and gentle nagging (Sooooo, how's it coming with that chapter?). Lol.
I'll let you get to it. Enjoy.
Chapter 13 – Insensitive
How do you cool your lips,
After a summer's kiss?
How do you rid the sweat,
After the body bliss?
How do you turn your eyes,
From the romantic glare?
How do you block the sound
Of a voice you'd know anywhere?
Oh, I really should have known
By the time you drove me home,
By the vagueness in your eyes,
Your casual good-byes,
By the chill in your embrace,
The expression on your face
That told me maybe you might have
Some advice to give on how to be…
Insensitive…
- Jann Arden
Previously…
In a numbing daze, my ears ringing with feedback, I removed the dress from the garment bag it was hanging in and dressed myself as quickly as I could with shaky fingers. When I finally, hesitantly, re-emerged from behind the curtain, Edward was nowhere in sight. A twinge of disappointment pricked me—I hadn't even heard the bell chime. No one offered any information, and I couldn't exactly ask about him, so I was left to ponder it, my overactive imagination running away with me. It was just one more thing to add to the long list of things over which to chastise myself about later.
Although I tried to keep my head in the game, I spent the rest of my fitting lost in my thoughts, running entirely on autopilot—I couldn't even recall what the dress looked like, despite wearing it in front of a three-way mirror for thirty minutes. I was barely aware of anything until I was suddenly sitting behind the wheel of my car again, unsure of how I got there, and staring at my phone as I contemplated calling him. I didn't know what I was doing or why. All the warning bells sounding, the months I had spent wanting to hate him; all the attempts at convincing of myself that I was committed to Jake, the countless times I'd told myself that I loved him, Edward was no good and he was the one for me – it all felt like I was fighting fate or some shit.
Oh, just grow a pair, Bella!
Finally, I took a deep breath, and hit send.
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~∞Ѿ∞~
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"Bella, are you there?" he questioned, his voice entirely unexpected.
What the fuck?
"Jake?" I returned, pulling the phone away from my ear and peering at the screen. Seeing his name but not comprehending why it was there, I just stared at my phone, more confused than ever.
I brought the phone back to my ear just in time to hear him say with a chuckle, "Who were you expecting, your bit of stuff on the side?"
I nearly choked on my own tongue, his joke hit much too close to home. Jesus, I had only planned on calling him, not fucking him. Okay, I hadn't not been contemplating doing more than talking. Funny, but you know what they say about sarcasm, it's the most honest form of humor…intentional or not.
Maybe I was wrong about fate—yet again. Someone was certainly trying to tell me something, and I was trying to listen. It wasn't my fault if they had multiple personality disorder. Pushing thoughts of Edward to the back of my mind—which was where they had to stay, I reminded myself for the eleventy millionth time—I devoted my whole attention to the boy whose love for me was tangible and had never given me cause for doubt. The boy whom I really did love, even if I sometimes forgot.
"Seriously, Jake, I'm a little disturbed by how many times you've watched that movie. I mean, Sliding Doors? Are you sure you're not a chick?"
"Positive, but if you'd like proof…well, I'd be more than happy to arrange a little demonstration for you," he offered in a low voice, so full of promise that I couldn't stop the small jolt of desire that shot through me.
"You're an insufferable tease, Jacob Black." Nor could I hide the trace of lust in my voice.
"I'm only a tease if I have no intention of following through."
"Yes, but unless it's an immediate demonstration…" I trailed off, letting it hang there.
"Who said it wouldn't be an immediate demonstration?"
"Where are you?" I questioned, narrowing my eyes in speculation.
"Right behind you."
"What?" I laughed, hoping to hide the pitchiness of my voice. Had he seen me with Edward? Was he following me? Panicking, my eyes darted around wildly. "Haha, Jake. Very funny. Where are you really?"
"I'm really-really right behind you. Look in your rearview mirror."
I did, and there he was. The smile on his face calmed my nerves, allowing me to slide into the warmth of his presence and dismiss the worry of the moment before.
.
~∞Ѿ∞~
.
…letting the days go by, let the water hold me down, letting the days go by, water flowing underground…
Time flew by, but I wasn't having fun, per se. I wasn't miserable; I was…content? I had finally pulled my head out of the clouds, and settled with what I could have. As time moved past me in a hurry, I allowed myself to be swept along with the current. It was nice; I didn't have to think too much, overanalyze. Sometimes, when I lay in bed at the end of the day, I found myself unable to recall exactly what I'd done all day.
…and you may ask yourself, what is that beautiful house?
It's not as if I was lost or anything; I knew exactly where I was going. My course had been set for so long, all the little pieces having fallen into place over the previous two years, that I felt perfectly justified in letting myself drift. The current seemed so strong; I didn't think there was much I could do to change my path.
…and you may ask yourself, where does that highway go?
On the surface, my life was exactly where it should be: I had the degree, the fabulous job, and had just found the perfect apartment. I had great friends and a doting boyfriend. My life was fantastic and, with the way everything was going, my future looked even brighter, but…
….and you may ask yourself, am I right? Am I wrong?
Every now and then, at the oddest moments, in a room full of people or when I was all alone, everything would feel wrong. Doubt would creep in, longing would consume me, his face would fill my mind, and the certainty that I'd made a mistake would wash over me.
…and you may tell yourself, MY GOD! WHAT HAVE I DONE?
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~∞Ѿ∞~
.
For the most part, it was easy to relax into my new life in the real world. All the years I had spent perfecting the art of avoidance were finally paying off and, so long as I didn't see him, it was simple to not torment myself with thoughts of him…of what could have been. I could go days without hearing his name, and ages without having to see him. Out of sight, out of mind.
But as the wedding neared, my Edward-free days began to lessen until it seemed as if he was always there. We were thrown together so often—auditioning musicians, picking up wedding favors, interviewing caterers, sampling wedding cakes—that I started to wonder if there was some kind of conspiracy going on. Yeah, 'cause a force-Edward-and-Bella-to-hang-out-together-so-that-they-make-everyone-uncomfortable conspiracy made sense. Ha!
Just when I finally let go of my crackpot theory—reluctantly acknowledging that my reprieve's end was due to our roles in both the wedding and the bride and grooms lives—Rose came up with an all-new, enjoyable task for me, and I began to think it wasn't so crackpot, after all. What had I ever done to her to deserve this?
.
~∞Ѿ∞~
.
"So," Rose started in a business-like tone, her head bobbing as her eyes ticked down the task list she was reviewing, "you and Edward need to get together and…" Rose started.
"Oh, hell no!" I rudely interjected, continuing on belligerently, "Nuh-uh. Nope!" My arms crossed over my chest and I shook my head, visually backing up the refusals that I continued to reiterate. "Not doing it."
Silence reigned for a too-long moment, causing me to tense in reaction—but still shaking my head—as I waited for her reaction. I ignored the compulsion to look at her, not wanting to give her the upper hand by showing any weakness. Through sheer willpower…or plain stubbornness, you decide…I kept my eyes trained on the floor. For like a second, until she let out a long-suffering sigh, and then my eyes snapped her way. At least I managed to not cringe. Small victories…small victories.
She stood there looking like a disappointed parent—one arm across her waist, supporting the elbow of the other, and her forehead resting in the palm of her hand.
"Bella…" Another overly-dramatic sigh that dragged out my name as if she were trying to summon up the patience to deal with a petulant child (furthering the disappointed parent impression) caused my chin to come up and a whine to slip past my lips.
"Rose… What do we need to get together for? I thought everything was already handled and we were just waiting for the big day? Whatever needs to be done, I'm sure it doesn't require both of us."
"Well, for the most part, yeah, everything's been taken care of, but there's still the matter of the bachelor and bachelorette parties," she informed me in that same annoyingly patronizing way, but as much as it set me on edge and made me realize how truly childish I was acting, it didn't lessen the whine in my voice.
"But I thought Alice already took care of the party bus rentals and everything? What more needs to be done?"
"Um, all of it. Attendance needs to be verified, you need to let everyone know where they are going to be picked up at, figure out where we're going to be stopping, and then coordinate when we're going to be meeting up with the guys." I stared at her blankly. "You do remember that we're all meeting up at the Alibi Room at the end of the night, don't you?"
Um, no, I seem to have missed that little detail.
"Of course I do, but I still don't see how any of this necessitates that Edward and I meet up to discuss it. You're the boss! Pick the time that you want to be there, tell us, and we'll be there. Well, I'll make sure that our group shows up; the guys are Edward's responsibility. See? Meeting with Edward? Unnecessary."
"Yeah, not happening, Bella. You guys need to hash this shit out."
For a second, I thought she was talking about something other than the festivities, and I snapped. "What the fuck is there to hash out?"
I had more to say, but she cut me off before I could…thank God. "The list of places Emmett and I want to hit are nearly identical, and neither of us want to accidentally run into each other before we're supposed to. You and Edward need to discuss that shit…I don't know, negotiate or divvy them up, whatever—to keep that from happening.
"Alice and I have taken care of all of the other details – sending out the invitations, securing the entertainment, renting the party buses, setting up the private party at Alibi – this is the only thing I'm asking you to do, so just do it and don't argue."
Thoroughly put in my place, but not happy about it, I agreed with a pout, and then sulked as she went over the rest of the wedding details with me. I wasn't sure exactly which ones, though; I wasn't really listening. She eventually left, but not without handing me a binder full of color-coded lists and meticulously detailed instructions on what she wanted for her party and the rest of my wedding responsibilities, and commanding me to call Edward.
I grunted my agreement, defiantly telling myself it was only so she would leave, but knowing that I would do everything she asked of me because I was nothing if not a good friend. Oh, the things I do for my 'friends'.
.
~∞Ѿ∞~
.
Even though I was in no way settled into my new apartment—boxes (emptied, full or half-unpacked) still cluttered the rooms, framed photos leaned against the walls, and stray packing peanuts and bubble wrap littered the floors—we decided (in what I secretly thought was some—likely ill-advised and fated—attempt at reliving old times) to get ready for the evenings festivitiesat my new place.
By 'we', I mean Alice and Rose decided.
And arrived ridiculously early.
They really knew how to put the 'hell' in 'hello'.
"It's open!" I shouted, my head in the fridge, scouring through the small but rapidly amassed collection of takeout boxes in my hunt for sustenance.
I'd already resigned myself to ordering in, not having found anything enticing, but I was still half-way inside my refrigerator perusing my on-hand options when the door opened and the clacking of high-heeled feet filled the room. Noisy-ass bitches! It sounded like a herd of whores entered instead of just two people.
"Hey, sluts! Jumping the gun a bit, aren't we? I know how you like to have plenty of time to primp, Ali, but this is early even by your standards," I greeted as I started to climb back out of my icebox. Definitely ordering in.
Rose swept past me, a flurry of bags and hair and annoyance, heading towards the tiny kitchen table that I'd barely managed to fit against the far wall of the room. So low that I could barely make the words out above the rustling of her packages and the sound of her heel tap-tap-tapping, she hissed, "It wasn't me, so when you get your panties in a twist…"
Snapping upright, I turned, her pursed lips and raised brow causing mine to respectively scrunch and lift, but she didn't answer my silent questions. Instead, she offered me a tight smile that faded into a grimace as she looked past me and shook her head with subtle disgust. Her behavior was so out of character that I couldn't help but stare in contemplation but, knowing better than to pursue it at that moment, I decided to turn around and greet Alice.
A split second before I broke our connection, a look full of wary weariness and apology replaced her haughty and hardened one. The change in her demeanor was so drastic that I attempted to pause, but I was already mid-turn and only stumbled instead as my impetus propelled me along until I faced the living room when I finally stopped as if I'd hit a wall, gaping because it wasn't Alice's form that greeted me there.
Beneath the surface my mind whirled, simultaneously plotting all the various ways I was going to kill Alice Cullen and cataloging my ratty appearance: capri-length leggings, ratty, too-big Columbia sweatshirt, un-brushed hair piled into a messy ponytail on top of my head, make-up free and bleary-eyed. So not hot. I looked like a hobo.
Charlotte shifted uncomfortably under my slack-jawed scrutiny, causing my social skills—in all their awkward glory—to return. "Um…hi? Alice, you didn't tell me you were bringing a friend." My eyes never left Charlotte as I made my passive-aggressive accusation.
"Yeah, it was kind of last minute," Alice replied.
Sensing the tension in the room—because she'd have to be dead and buried not to—Charlotte spoke up. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come. I told Alice I didn't want to intrude, but she insisted. I should probably just…" She trailed off, pointing over her shoulder at the door, indicating she should leave. I didn't feel inclined to stop her.
She looked all kinds of mortified and on the verge of tears as she turned back towards the door, briefly hesitating midway to hurl another apology. "I really am so sorry."
Arms rigid with clenched fists, Alice shot me a withering glare, her whole demeanor screaming, 'You are such a bitch. Don't let her leave like that!' A trace, like a ghosts breath, of remorse touched me, but I wasn't having it. I glared right back, challenging her even as I felt my resolve weakening. Alice held my gaze for less than a second, but when she saw I wasn't budging, she shook her head disgustedly, and rushed after Charlotte, stopping her just out of my view before she got to the door.
I couldn't make out the words, but the gentle susurrations of their murmured conversation and the occasional sniffle was enough for me to know that Alice was soothing her after I'd made her cry. You should know, she's done the same for you enough times over the years, my conscience snarked, but I tuned that bitch out. You'd think my own conscience could speak to me a little more respectfully. Regardless, I wasn't going to give in.
I'd be damned if I would apologize to the enemy, let alone allow her to get ready with me and my friends like she was one of the girls. Fuck that. You know, it's not like she's done anything to hurt you on purpose. It's hardly her fault that Edward liked her enough to commit to her after just a few months when he didn't care about you enough to keep his dick in his pants after five years, said that annoying voice again. I tried blocking it out with thoughts of anything else, but it was turning out to be surprisingly persistent.
A struggle between my need to hate Charlotte the Innocent and my inherent empathy ensued. My needs lost. It wasn't Alice's disappointment in me, my empathy, or me trying to be the bigger person that caused my resolve to falter, though. In the end, the deciding factor was a conversation I'd had with Emmett a few days before.
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~∞Ѿ∞~
.
"Are you a fucking idiot, Emmett? And does Rose secretly hate me or something? I mean, what the fuck, man!" I shouted into the phone, pacing in the mostly empty living room of my new apartment.
"Hello to you, too, Baby-Bell," he sighed. "I suppose this means you've seen the new guest list for me and Rosie's last 'hoo-rah'."
It wasn't a question, which pleased me since us being on the same page would make things easier. "Just, but you didn't answer my question. Are you fucking stupid? Seriously, what the fuck were you and Rose thinking? You couldn't honestly think it was a good idea? I mean, Jesus, Emmett!"
Exasperation caused my tirade to degenerate into incoherent stuttering, until I finally gave up on speech. When I was silent, Emmett heaved a long sigh, before reluctantly speaking.
"I love you, Bells, you know that—you're family—but you and Edward need to get the fuck over this shit already. We can't spend the rest of our lives tiptoeing around the two of you. You've both moved on, and that means your significant others are going to be a part of our lives, too; it would have been rude to not invite them."
I knew that the bullshit between Edward and me put everyone else in an uncomfortable and awkward position, none more so than his siblings, but most of the time it was easy for me to overlook. The wedding shoved it right in my face, and being reminded, once again, of how much they were all sacrificing and compromising because of us was…humbling. To say the least. Guilt licked at me, dulling my anger a bit and.
Feeling somewhat ashamed, I relented… "You're right, Emmett. I'm sorry." …a little. "But you do know that this is most likely going to blow up in your face, right?"
"Eh, probably, but better at our joint stag party than the wedding. I figure it's a trial run." he replied with his usual equanimity. "You know, Belly, I gotta say, for as much as you and Eddie claim to be over each other, you both spend an awful lot of time worrying about the other."
"That's… I… You…" Completely taken aback, I was unable to formulate a reply. Instead, I found myself sputtering and snorting in my eagerness to refute his claim.
"Well, I gotta go. Later, B," he announced, sounding mighty pleased with himself.
I stood there, all outrage and indignation, clutching the phone to my ear for several seconds—maybe minutes, who knows—before I finally found my voice to respond, belatedly blurting out, "Nuh-uh!"
My brilliant and witty rebuttal bounced off the walls of my empty apartment, sounding through no ones ears but my own because Emmett had already hung up. An Ivy League education and that's the best you can come up with? Nice.
Little earthquakes of indignation and rage rumbled through me, building upon each other until my whole body shook. How dare he? How fucking dare… Who the hell does he think he is? Sitting up in his tower all smug and judgey just because he found his soul mate at the age of fourteen. Fuck him!I was so over Edward! So, so, so, so, so over him.
Even as I questioned his audacity in self-righteous disbelief, I felt a pin prick at the back of my mind, allowing a tiny point of light to shine on my denial, illuminating it until the truth was revealed. I so, so, so wasn't over Edward Cullen…but it didn't matter. He wasn't mine to have (nor I his).
.
~∞Ѿ∞~
.
Almost certain I would hate myself (and Emmett and Alice) for it, I reluctantly called out to Charlotte.
"Wait…" Hoarse and lacking conviction, the word trailed off as Alice popped out from behind the wall, beaming as if she'd just reunited North and South Korea, everything sunshine and kittens and rainbows in her delusional little world once more.
She gestured for me to continue, so I cleared my throat and tried again, only to choke on Charlotte's name. "Cha…" I coughed, "um, you can stay. I mean, you're already here, so…"
Alice glared at me. I glared back, and rolled my eyes for good measure, adding in a syrupy voice, "What I meant was, you're not intruding at all, and we'd be happy to have you stay."
Crossing my arms over my chest and pursing my lips, I shot Alice a pointed look. There, happy now, bitch?
"Are – are you sure?" she questioned skeptically, stepping hesitantly back into view. "Because I understand if you want me to go. I told Alice that this would be weird, but…well, you know Alice better than me so…you know how she can be."
Something tugged at me. I found myself wanting to like her, but I resisted the urge stubbornly. No way was I going to be friends with the girl that the guy I loved was in love with. I mean, the guy I used to love. Past tense. Because I couldn't—wouldn't—love him any more.
While part of me saw the irrationality of my dislike—after all, she couldn't be held accountable for someone else's actions—the rest of me just couldn't see past what she represented. She was a physical reminder of my inadequacies and everything I wanted that I didn't have.
"No, really…it's fine," I said brusquely, closing the fridge and brushing past her and Alice. "Make yourself at home, Charlotte. Alice, why don't we go put your stuff in my room."
She said something to Charlotte and Rose that I couldn't make out since I had already marched into the hallway, and then followed behind me. The moment she was through my bedroom door, I slammed it behind her and pounced.
"What the fuck were you thinking, Alice?" I demanded, my voice a low growl. "I mean, seriously, bringing her here – are you really that cruel?"
"No." She sniffled, her bottom lip quivering, telling me she was on the verge of tears, but I couldn't find it in me to care.
"You must be, because why else would you bring her here. Jesus, Alice!" My hands buried in my hair, I paced the room trying to keep my temper in check; I didn't want to say something I would regret. Surely Alice had a good reason for bringing her to my house, infringing upon our time together?
"She stopped by just as I was walking out the door, and was really nervous about tonight. Like practically in tears nervous, all worried about drawing any more of Rosalie's wrath down upon herself, not knowing anyone or having anyone to talk to… For some reason, I thought maybe you would be able to relate," she confided, her tone implying that I should relate. She had me there, but I wasn't about to admit it. Fuck that.
"Honestly, Bella, I didn't wake up today thinking 'What can I do to fuck with Bella.' The words were just out of my mouth before I could stop them. She's a really sweet person and she's trying so hard to be accepted. It's not like it's her fault that her and Edward are together." The hell it wasn't! Okay, so it wasn't, but… "If you want to hate someone, hate him."
Believe me, I do.
"Whatever, Alice. What's done is done, but just because I can't kick her out without seeming like a huge bitch, doesn't mean I have to pretend to like her. Just keep her away from me, and everything will be peachy. I'm jumping into the shower. Why don't you go hang out with your new bestie."
"Bella, don't be that way; it's not like that."
"Sure, fine, whatever you say." I was done with our conversation, and just wanted her gone. "You do realize that she's been out there unsupervised with Rose for an awfully long time, don't you?"
"Shit!" Alice yelped in alarm.
She vacillated, torn between rushing off to make sure Dr. Girlfriend was free from a Rosalie beat down, and showing her loyalty to me. I thought about seeing how long it would take for her to breakdown and rush to Charlotte's defense, but discovered I wasn't that interested in seeing how I rated. Instead, I walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind me, trying the entire way to maintain my haughty, self-righteous indignation and moral superiority…despite knowing, even at that moment, just how faulty they were.
I stayed in the show for longer than necessary. I had a long day and night ahead of me that I needed to prepare for.
.
~∞Ѿ∞~
.
"Can we get another round over here?" I shouted to the party bus 'host' from my seat at the table of honor—well, the only table, actually. I rolled my eyes as the rest of the girls—my best friends included—went nuts for the stripper Alice had hired. Blonde—go figure—not my type. I was ready for the night to be over already, and the evening wasn't even half over with.
To be perfectly honest, much of my dissatisfaction had to do with the fact that Dr. Girlfriend—who was, at that moment, wedged into the seat next to me, hooting it up with a gaggle of girls who had taken to her swimmingly (yet had never taken to me, not that I cared)—had wormed her way into our plans.
Thank God, we were finally on our way to The Alibi Room to meet up with the guys, because I couldn't handle being trapped in a tin can with them any longer. If I had to hear one more 'Edward really likes when...' or 'This one time, Edward…', I was seriously going to cut a bitch. Rose and I had spent the majority of the evening, up to that point, huddled together on one side of the table, rolling our eyes and scoffing every time Edward's name was mentioned with Rose repeatedly asking me to remind her again why she was friends with such catty cows.
Yeah, we were aware that we, too, were acting like catty bitches, but it was Rose's party and she could be catty if she wanted to…and cattiness loves company. It wasn't my fault she handed the job to me. And they really were acting like cows.
As soon as the future desperate housewives learned that the Edward Cullen had finally been tamed, it was all anyone wanted to talk about. Someone managed to finally snag Edward Cullen? Oh. My. God! I can't believe it! What I wouldn't give to call that sweet piece of ass mine!
As if that weren't bad enough, the sly glances that were thrown my way every time Dr. Girlfriend mentioned his name gave me the distinct impression that they all thought I was either one of his (many) scorned former lovers or that I had been vainly pining after him for years. I held Alice entirely responsible for all of the whispers and piteous glances I'd been subjected to all evening.
The only reason I hadn't completely disowned her was because she had been trying to steer the conversation toward a less potentially explosive topic since its commencement, and it wasn't her fault Charlotte had been invited to the damn party. It wasn't Rose's fault either. She hadn't wanted to invite her any more than I had, but Esme Cullen and Emily Post had overruled both of us. Of course, I couldn't be angry at either of them because one of them was the mother I never had and the other was dead.
I still needed someone upon which to foist my percolating ire, so I stewed on it as we unloaded from the bus outside the club, a process that seemed to take forever as some of the ladies felt the need to give the stripper some rather enthusiastic alohas. As usual with 'aloha', I wasn't sure if they were saying hello or goodbye.
By the end of my third Manhattan, I decided I could pin it all on Edward, my denouncement leaving me feeling smug. All of it was his fault, after all. I ate the alcohol-laden cherry at the bottom of my empty glass and decided to celebrate with another.
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~∞Ѿ∞~
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I had told myself all evening that once we met up with the guys the night would improve. Sure, it was a long shot, but I had been trying to be optimistic. Fuck optimism. Surely, with forty or so more people around I could manage to avoid Dr. Girlfriend and her Eddie-centric tales? Right?
Wrong.
Oh, so wrong.
"I have such a hard time believing the stories of Edward's womanizing ways!" Charlotte declared to a chorus of disbelief and an accompaniment of snorts.
It was like she was stalking me. In the hour since we'd arrived, I'd had to move away from Charlotte and her revolving gaggle of giggling girls as they 'oohed' and 'ahhed' over her vomit inducing bullshit stories more than three times. As much trouble as she had believing in Ed-whores promiscuous ways, I found it even more difficult to believe the stories she'd been bandying around all night.
The Edward she talked about was a sham, a farce, a mask that he was, for some reason I couldn't even begin fathom, wearing and it made me want to gag. On the plus side, I no longer felt nearly as inferior to her as I had before. That he was pretending to be someone he wasn't told me he wasn't happy, and that she was buying into his disingenuousness made her an idiot. I may have never actually gotten Edward, but at least he never pretended when he was with me; he was always himself. Usually to my detriment, but all the same…
"I know, I know, I know!" she protested in a drunken rush, holding up one hand to silence them while pressing the other over her heart. Her face was flushed, obviously loving the attention as they hung on her every misinformed word. "I know it's all true, but the Edward Cullen I know is the sweetest, most thoughtful, doting and loving man I've ever known.
"He's always doing little things to prove how much he cares. Like a couple of weeks ago, I had just come off my second double shift in a row, and was dead tired. All I wanted to do was fall into my bed and never get up again, but I really needed to study and get some things done."
They were waiting with baited breath, while I tried not to vomit, rolling my eyes so hard that I was concerned I may have sprained them. Can you sprain your eyeballs?
"Well, when I got home, Edward was there. He drew me a bath, made me something to eat, carried me to bed and made love to me for hours while quizzing me on the material I needed to study—never have I loved studying more, let me tell you!"
I scoffed—out loud—as they all squealed. I earned a few glares, including one from L'il Miss Duped. Whatever. Somebody gag me, please.
It amused me at how easily she saw what she wanted to see. Edward wielded doting like a weapon, pulling it out when he was trying to distract you. It meant next to nothing. And sexy study sessions? Just a means to an end with as few objections from you as possible.
"Afterwards, he told me to sleep and, when I started to object since I still had errands to do, he told me he had already taken care of my tabs, picked up my dry-cleaning and returned my library books."
They were eating it up, but as for me? Well, my father always told me to never believe a hard sell. I mean, who was she trying to convince? Her audience or herself?
"The only reason I believe it's the truth—well, besides the fact that he was honest with me about it from the beginning—is the fact that no one has skills like that without having put the practice in. I mean, the sex… Out. Of. This. World!"
It sounded like a pack of hyenas as they howled and begged for details. As she launched into a racy story meant to illustrate how lucky she was, I decided that I didn't want or need to stick around.
"He does this thing…with his tongue…"
Memories of exactly what thing she was talking about briefly tumbled around in my head. With a deep, longing sigh, I shook them off. Definitely my cue to go.
My intention had been to slip quietly away, but I was spared the luxury, though it was entirely my own fault. I could have—almost definitely should have—ignored the snide, not-quite-under-the-breath comments that came from some of Rose's bitchier acquaintances (Seriously, why was she friends with these girls again?) as I walked away. But when I was slighted by their ringleader…or maybe, possibly, I just misconstrued her comment; po-tay-toe, pa-ta-toe…I couldn't let it go.
…Boom! I got your boyfriend, I got your man…
"And the way he looks at me afterwards…it's like no one has ever made him feel the way I do, like no one has ever compared to me. I've never felt so loved in my entire life. Even if he's never said the words, I can see it in his eyes."
"Awww!" A chorus of affirmations that barely concealed their jealousy, rang out around her. "That's so sweet!"
Oh, hellllllllllllllll no!
"Oh, Jesus-fucking-Christ, are you that fucking naïve! Let me guess, he gives you a kiss on the cheek and softly thanks you, before disengaging under the pretense of throwing the condom away and falling asleep on his side of the bed, that is, if he actually comes back to bed at all?
"It's vintage Cullen; I think he may have actually had the move trademarked. It doesn't mean he loves you! It's just something he's always done after he gets his rocks off to keep the girl from feeling like trash and coming back for more. It's so second nature to him, he doesn't even know he's doing it.
"At one point, I got so fucking sick of it that shit, that I finally told him that I would chop his nuts off if he didn't cut it out. So, you're not special or anything. You wanna feel special, wait until he's gone down on you for an hour, given you countless orgasms, then pulls you into his arms to cuddle. And then, just before you both fall asleep, he nuzzles your ear and whispers how much he appreciates you allowing him to taste you and that he can't ever get enough of it, of you, ever.
"THEN you'll feel special and truly loved. I mean, nothing beats the way you feel after that. Take my word for it."
My volume had steadily increased so that I was practically screaming at her by the end. As my voice stilled, I became aware that I'd been shouting in a nearly silent room, the slow song playing, not loud enough to drown me out. Alice was frantically tugging on my arm—she had been the entire time, I realized—trying to get my attention and shut me up, but I hardly noticed until I finished my tirade and noticed the hush that had fallen.
Oh, fuck.
The feeling of being under a microscope is surprisingly sobering. Suddenly hyperaware of the curious stares that I had drawn, I cringed and looked around me, searching for the only two sets of eyes—one hot, one cold, but both searing—that mattered, terrified that either of them, one more than the other, had overheard me.
I felt Edward's eyes on me before I saw him. A tingle ran up my spine, and I reveled in the sensation, letting it momentarily chase away the mortification, shame and guilt I felt. Glancing the direction from which the thrum of electricity seemed to be emanating, I wasn't surprised by the jade that met my dull brown. The intensity of his gaze pierced through my alcohol-numb, sending everything I'd been repressing crashing down in an avalanche upon me.
My ears rang as the uncomfortable hush that not even Alice seemed to know how to fix continued. Just when I was certain I was going to burst into flames from the million prickling emotions needling at me, Rose's voice rang out, piercing the insulating and smothering bubble of silence around us. As if we had all been paused and someone had just pushed play, the club erupted, everything seeming to happen all at once.
"Bitch, please!" she sassed. She was just getting started, but that was all I heard. I couldn't be bothered to listen as my attention was drawn elsewhere.
Darting toward a movement on the far side of the club, my eyes landed on the only person I should have been looking for, and I released the breath I'd been holding since spotting Edward. Jake. Had he not been head and shoulders above almost everyone there, I wouldn't have noticed him walking out of the hallway that led to the bathrooms. He smiled when he saw me, and I offered one back, not wanting him to come over thinking he needed to rescue me, but it must not have fooled him.
He frowned, his eyes wandering my face as he tried to figure out what was wrong with me, and my breathing started to speed. He can't come over here. His roaming eyes skidded to a halt before reversing and slamming on the breaks again, and I knew exactly what, or rather, whom, his gaze was focused on. Edward. Jakes expression hardened and he squared his shoulders, his chest seeming to puff up as he did it.
Fuck, fuck, fuck-fuck, fuck. I'd caused enough drama for one night; I couldn't handle the kind that was going to go down if Jake made it over to me. Not to mention, with it only a week away, Rose would never forgive me if Edward were to have a black eye, or worse, at the wedding. Fuck my life! The only thought in my head was that I needed to head him off at the pass. Inappropriately (or appropriately as the case may have been), the thought came with its very own soundtrack. …he rode a blazing saddle…he wore a shining star…his job to offer battle to bad men near and far…
Totally focused on preventing the imminent disaster (and not on humming along to the theme song from Blazing Saddles), I didn't notice Rose materialize at my side, still talking, until she threw her arm around my shoulder. I attempted to slip out from under her arm and scoot off to intercept Jake, but Rose's hand clamped down on my shoulder, keeping me at her side. She paused whatever she had been saying to shoot me a quick 'What the fuck?' look out of the corner of her eye and pull me more firmly into her side before continuing with what she was saying while I tried to contain my growing panic.
"Quit trying to make all the other ladies feel better about the fact that Emmett's off the market; we all know that I got the good brother."
A smattering of confused laughter accompanied her comment, and I joined in—tinny and hollow—trying to act as if the shit wasn't about to hit the fan. I stared at the 'pimp cup' Alice made for her with 'bride' blingingly emblazoned upon it, trying to mask my anxiety with attentiveness, but the second Rose started to speak again, my eyes searched Jake out, hoping I wasn't too late. I spotted him, striding purposefully across the dance floor, a look of grim determination on his face, and in the set of his shoulders.
He was still quite a ways away, not even halfway to where the group of us was standing, and it was even farther to Edward, but I pre-emptively braced myself for the impact. Suddenly…Cinderella story, straight out of nowhere… Look! Up in the club! It's a bird! It's a plane! No, it's…Emmett swooped in—arm over Jake's shoulder, not taking no for an answer, redirecting his attention and his person, and guiding him to the bar on the opposite side of the room, as far from disaster as the walls of the club would allow.
Jake stiffened under Em's arm and, although he wanted to come to my side—ostensibly under the guise of concern over my distress, but in reality, itching for a fight with Edward—good manners and knowing my friends were important to me—and, thusly, us—held him in place. Still, as he reluctantly bent to my burly friend's will, he continued to glance back at me, ready to bolt at the first sign that I needed him.
Real humor replaced feigned as relief washed over me in giddy waves as Em unknowingly averted the crisis. Catching his eye, I grinned at him, and his posture relaxed. Disappointment flickered across his face, but he had resigned himself to the turn of events. He gave me an apologetic shrug, which I dismissed with an eye roll and a 'whatever…go, have fun, enjoy yourself; I'll be right here waiting when you're done' gesture. He went, only looking back once more before disappearing from sight.
The bottom abruptly fell out of my good mood when I turned my attention back to Rose and saw Edward in the edge of my vision, his expression half-scowl, half-sneer as he watched Jake leave with Emmett. I tried to just shrug it off, shrug him off, but it just pissed me off so much. What right did he have? Although I couldn't put him completely out of my mind, I did make an effort to focus on Rose. Staring once again at her bedazzled cup, smile in place, I laughed and made all the appropriate expressions in all the right places.
Jesus H. Christ, being around Edward is going to give me emotional whiplash one of these days! I felt like a bi-polar emo-freak.
"His skills be so good," Rose rambled on, slipping further into her drunken Yellow Rose of the Ghetto persona, "I know they put all these other motherfuckers to shame, hands down. In fact, I'd put money on it…especially his brothers.
"Emmett is the eldest—the biggest—," she raised her eyebrows lasciviously, the gesture accenting her innuendo, "of the Cullen boys, after all."
The track suddenly changed, the beat of a club mix booming through the air with the force of a wrecking ball, sudden and unexpected. Rose started bobbing her head. "Umm, umm! This is my jam! D.J., turn that shit up!" she called out, all Mekhi Pfeiffer in Eight Mile.
…this is my life and these times are so hard and they're getting even harder…
Following Rose's lead, the party in our little area was soon swinging once again, my declarations and the ensuing awkwardness forgotten for the moment, but I was under no misperception that it wouldn't be pulled out for discussion as they all nursed their hangovers in the morning.
.
~∞Ѿ∞~
.
As much as I would have preferred to join the revelers as they shook their groove thangs, I couldn't. I couldn't get Edward's face—the initial intensity with it's hint of smugness after my word vomit, the sneering scowl when Jake appeared, the angry hurt and pleading just then—out of my head. I just wanted to have fun and he was ruining everything! Why couldn't I let him go, let the hurt go, get him out of my head? Why was it so fucking difficult?
Anger bubbled up and over, and I suddenly needed to get out of there before I was the one giving Edward bruises and causing a scene. The writhing couples dry-humping around me, the milling throngs, and images of Edward were pushing in on me, robbing me of oxygen. With a parting, dark glare, I broke away from Edward's ensnaring eyes, whose trap I'd unknowingly become caught in, and stalked off towards the exit, rudely pushing my way through the press of bodies surrounding me.
I ignored the look on Edward's face that so closely matched the one that must have been on mine, and the knowing smirks of our scandal-loving audience as they glanced back and forth between us. I wanted to run away from all of it. For just a few moments, I didn't want to think about the glassy eyes of his forgotten-about girlfriend or how I wanted to like her, could have liked her in another life, if she didn't have what I wanted the most and if she hadn't flaunted it in my face after my earlier charity.
I gratefully sucked in a lungful of oxygen as I half-fell through the heavy front door of the club to the outside. It was instant relief, the fresh, damp air washed over me like a balm, soothing my anger and frazzled nerves, the crispness clearing my mind, and I stood in the middle of the empty sidewalk, hunched over with my hands on my knees, greedily gulping it in.
The door opened behind me, shattering the near-silence of the nighttime Seattle waterfront. The door closed with a clang, the quiet returning, only now it was pregnant, heavy, with expectation. I didn't need to look to know who was there; on some level, I'd been expecting him, but that didn't mean I was prepared. Or that he was welcome.
"No!" I shouted, heaving my body upright and then rushing blindly down Post Alley, not caring where I was going, 'away' being my only rational thought.
"Bella, wait, Goddamn it!" he demanded angrily before giving chase.
I didn't stand a snowballs' chance in hell at outrunning him sober, so my chances were slightly lower than that drunk, but I increased my pace regardless and prayed that I could out-maneuver him. And that I stayed on my feet.
Seizing the first opportunity that presented itself, I darted into a dim opening as it appeared. I didn't pause to think about where it led, or who could be inside of it, I just flung myself up the half-flight of concrete stairs, across the short landing at the top and, giving a silent prayer of thanks to Lady Luck, through the heavy metal door that unexpectedly opened. I'd done it; I'd gotten away from him.
.
~∞Ѿ∞~
.
As it turned out, I was wrong. Before I had a chance to take so much as one step away from the closing door, the door was torn open and a hand darted through, wrapping itself around my forearm just below my elbow. I was yanked back as his body came through the door and spun, my body trapped firmly between his chest and the wall as the steel door closed with an ominous metallic shriek.
He held me there, just like that, for a long minute, our pants echoing in the empty stairwell the only sound. My breathing had just begun to calm, when one of his hands slid between my back and the wall, tangling in my hair and using it to force my chin up, but I refused to meet his eyes, acting as if he wasn't there. I stared at his Adam's apple instead, losing myself in the slight movements caused by each breath he took, the erotic bobbing motion every time he swallowed. Only my rapidly accelerating breathing gave away the effect that his presence had on me.
…I'd love to give my self away, but I find it hard to trust…
"Damn it, Bella! Stop shutting me out! Stop pretending that there's nothing between us…that you don't feel that spark…that you don't still want me every bit as much as I want you. Just fucking look at me!"
An order, a demand that he expected me to follow, and I wanted to, but I couldn't. Wouldn't. Not this time. Just because it was inevitable, didn't mean I had to give in without a fight. I didn't need to look, anyway. I had a good idea of what I'd find in his eyes, because it mirrored what I knew was in mine.
I was so conflicted. I didn't want to do to Jacob what Edward had done to me for years, but I felt as if I couldn't stop it. Why, oh, why had I left the club knowing he would follow me? Stop playing dumb; you know why. Much as I wanted to deny it, I did know why. I'd known from the beginning what would happen, but knowing it and standing at the cusp of it were entirely different.
…I've got no map to find my way amongst these clouds of dust…
I didn't want to be that girl! That bitchy voice in my head scoffed at me. Twenty-five years old and still thinking of yourself as a girl! I didn't need a Psych 101 class to analyze why that was. A girl because I somehow thought that I could be found less responsible for my actions if they were done with the naiveté of a girl, rather than the knowledge of a woman. It always amazed me, the lengths your mind would go to trivialize your actions until they seemed forgivable. But in my heart of hearts, I knew that there was nothing forgivable about what was about to happen. There you go again, trying to separate yourself from any responsibility.
…fear can stop you loving…
"Please…" he pleaded and, though fear ran strong through my veins once more, I could no longer deny him.
I had to give him something, so I gave him honesty in a hushed, tremulous voice. "I hate you…for making me want you so much."
With startling clarity, I knew that going through with this would be the end for us, our swan song. I still couldn't trust him, the very fact that he was out here with me when his gorgeous and doting girlfriend was inside was proof of that.
"I know what you mean," he agreed just as quietly as he brought his hands to my face, cupping my jaw and angling my head in preparation for his kiss.
His lips descended toward mine, but I pulled slightly away before they could touch, stopping him. My eyes finally met his for just a moment. "This changes nothing," I told him, wanting him to know the score before we played the game.
"Fine." His response was so swift and succinct, I had to wonder if he had really heard what I'd said and, if he had, if he believed me, but his mouth suddenly on mine, greedy and insistent, stole all my thoughts.
…love can stop your fear…
The moment our lips made contact, everything—fear, hurt, right, wrong—disappeared, allowing me to bask in the pure love I felt for him this one last time. I knew later, when our passion had cooled and our clothes were back on, the weight of it all would crush me, but I'd deal with it all then.
.
~∞Ѿ∞~
.
Oh, you probably won't remember me
It's probably ancient history
I'm one of the chosen few
Who went ahead and fell for you
I'm out of hope, I'm out of touch
I fell too fast, I feel too much
I thought that you might have
Some advice to give on how to be
Insensitive
Songs Used
(In Order of Appearance):
Once In a Lifetime, Talking Heads
Boom I Got Your Boyfriend, Khia
Blazing Saddle, Frankie Laine
Lose Yourself, Eminem
Fear and Love, Morcheeba
Insensitive, Jann Arden
Notes:
1. Emily Post's Guide to Etiquette has long been considered the last word on appropriate social conduct
2. "Cinderella story, straight out of nowhere…" - Line from the movie Caddyshack
3. "Look! Up in the club! It's a bird! It's a plane! No, it's..." – common popular phrase, originally from Superman, but twisted to suit my needs
4. '…head him off at the pass…' is a line from the hilarious Mel Brooks film Blazing Saddles, thus the theme song playing in her head
Rec's:
House of Cards, therunaway1
The Journal, MsEm
What a Girl Wants, What a Boy Means, Ingenuefic
No Holds Barred, jayhawkbb
There is a Light, belladonnacullen
Up Love's Creek, LondonGoth
My Name is Not Bella, MsSailorman
The Vagina Monologues, jtmd24
A May to December Romance, Positively 4th Street