I don't own Twilight. Characters and certain canon phrases below belong to SMeyer. The rest is mine, including any errors.
I actually wrote most of this before I started on Edward's point of view, but I decided I wanted to tell his side of the story first, and this one was shelved. I finished and polished it up for you, so enjoy.
-The Hermit-
Two more hours...only one hundred and twenty minutes until I could go home and pass out ― preferably for at least the next twelve hours. My boss was a complete dick, and had no sympathy for the extra demands finals added to my schedule. As for sleep, I'd been living on three hours a night for almost a week now. Between studying, commuting to school, actually taking the exams, and work, I was spread extremely thin. Then again, that was exactly the way I liked it, actually.
You can do this. Just two more hours.
Though I was tired as hell, I really never considered quitting. I had more than enough money to attend Northwestern, but I still needed this job. When one was alone, there was a lot of lonely time to kill. I'd been alone for about a year now, but it still wasn't getting much easier. What was left of my world had dropped out from underneath me the day my parents went out for dinner and never came back. So for now, I worked. I had the time, and hopefully, the loneliness wouldn't last forever.
The old, annoying clock ticked away the seconds as I sat at the counter in the empty diner, waiting for Jessica to come and relieve me at eleven. I hoped she'd let me get out of here without a marathon small-talk session tonight. I liked Jess just fine, but she was a bit of a Chatty Cathy.
I stifled a yawn, wishing I didn't feel like a middle-aged crone stuffed inside the body of a nineteen-year-old. To pass the slowly moving minutes, I tried to focus on studying a particularly difficult chapter for Organic chemistry, my last final of the semester. I fought with my eyelids, attempting to review the limitations of SN reactions, but I knew my battle against sleep was a losing one. I was about to drift off when the door opened with a clang of old bells. Startled, I immediately looked up to greet the customer, trying not to look guilty of sleeping on the job. What I saw nearly made me fall off the stool. I met the dark eyes of a stranger as he strode in confidently, on a current of cool wind that brought traces of the most appealing scent I'd ever smelled before.
This must be what angels smell like.
But this man was no angel...I could tell by his eyes. Dark brows slanted over eyes that burned right through me, with intense irises that looked like dark, smoky topaz. His hair was dark, burnished with red, and dripping with rain. I wanted to slick my hands through it, to grab on and tug, while I licked rainwater off his lips.
Unfortunately, he didn't seem to harbor the same interest in me. His eyes flicked away dismissively as he sat himself in the corner booth. I actually licked my lips as I watched him walk away, and I wanted to be appalled at myself. I had to admit, the view was very nice, even if the owner of said view was apparently an asshole.
"Please, seat yourself," I said under my breath. I took a deep breath, which did little to boost my confidence, but I still slid off the stool and went to take his order, grabbing a menu on the way. I also made sure to grab an extra for a shield, unsure why I felt I needed one. Long seconds passed after I tiptoed up to his side, but he ignored me, flipping through something on his phone faster than I'd ever seen. Finally, his eyes snapped up to mine, and his look shocked me. Those smoky topaz eyes were darker, filled with resentment and malice. His nostrils flared, his chest rose once, and then his scowl grew darker, like he was being forced to do something really distasteful.
"Can I help you?" he asked stiffly. His glare made me want to shrink back in fear, but for some moronic reason, I also wanted to provoke him. Oh, boy...this man is trouble. Trouble.
"I think that's supposed to be my line," I said with a brittle but hopeful smile. I thrust the tattered plastic menu in his direction, trying to brazen through without earning any more of his glares. "My name's Bella, and I'll be taking care of you tonight. I'd recommend some specials, but with Mikey cooking, you're probably safer with coffee or soda." I was even stupid enough to add a conspiratorial wink, which he didn't return.
He just fixed me with that stony gaze, his body so still... How does he do that?
His eyes looked sick, tired, with light purple smudges above his cheekbones. I couldn't tell how old he was, but I guessed he was somewhere around my age. He watched me, unmoving, and unease prickled the back of my neck at his attention, which was reminiscent of the way a cat would stare at a mouse...just before it pounced. We both stood there, frozen, until I noticed he was leaning slightly away from me. Briefly, I wondered if I was breaking the sacred rule to never invade the customer's bubble. I decided taking a small step back couldn't hurt.
"Coffee, please. Black," he said, his jaw clenched so hard I was afraid he might crush his own teeth. It was then I noticed the way his white-knuckled fists were placed so carefully on the table in front of him, like he was afraid of what might happen if he let himself move. For a split-second, his nose wrinkled and his nostrils flared, like he smelled something strong and wasn't sure he liked it. In that moment, he looked like he either wanted to curse my existence or rip all my clothes off. All I could do was just stand there like a stupid, timid little bird.
Please, rip the clothes off. I don't need them.
"C-coffee, black. Coming r-right up!" I stuttered, backing away.
Jesus Christ! 'Coming right up,' Bella? You suck. You don't work at Mel's Diner, you're certainly not Alice, Jess isn't Flo, and you're definitely not in Phoenix. It gets way too damn cold here in the winter.
In a hurry to escape those black holes he called eyes, I tripped over a nearby chair leg in the process, but caught myself before I could knock out any teeth. I was surprised I managed to get away with nothing injured but my pride, and I smiled to myself as I set about retrieving coffee for the mystery man. He ignored me as I returned with the hot mug and placed it on the table.
Quiet and defeated, I returned back to my post, where I tried not to stare at him for the remainder of the night. I failed spectacularly.
o-o-o
Seven days later, that same tinkle of bells heralded the arrival I'd been watching for all week. To my eternal despair, I had only ten minutes before I was scheduled to clock out for the night. I pretended not to notice him as he came through the door, bringing with him chilly, swirling eddies of misty rain and the scent I'd pay thousands of dollars for if it was bottled and sold. From under my lashes, I watched as he took his usual seat, my greedy eyes eager to see if he lived up to my much-relived memories.
First, he pinned me with a hateful, icy glare that really should have deterred any budding crush where he was concerned, and then he proceeded to ignore me, just as he had last time. Pulling out an old-fashioned, leather-bound journal of some sort, his fingers flew through the pages, and I found myself nearly hypnotized by the soft scratch of papers sliding over one another. I watched as he skimmed to a blank page and began writing, all intense and focused. The soft scratch of his pen reached my ears, and I could feel it as if he'd dragged his fingertips over the nape of my neck. I'd never had such a reaction to anything before, and it scared the hell out of me.
What am I supposed to be doing? Oh, right...menu for Emo, Party of One.
When I had the chance to get close, I noticed the buttery-soft leather and thick, cotton paper that absorbed the rich black ink perfectly, displaying his almost calligraphy-style script. Something about that struck me as strange, but I dismissed it as a random worry that no straight man could have penmanship that pretty.
Because if I wanted anything in this world, I really wanted this man to be straighter than an arrow ― or at least bisexual. Oh, please, Lord...just give me one shot. It would be a tragedy to women everywhere if this guy likes the cock exclusively.
Right. Like I'd have a chance with this one, with his mop of bright, brazen hair that glowed with red streaks, strands the color of a brand new penny woven with every hue from caramel to coffee. It stood on end in disarray that only made me want to muss it even more, the shade setting off his pale, pale skin like nothing had a right to. Just the sight of him made me stammer, sweat, and want to run screaming in fright all at once. I'd never been attracted to the bad-boy type, but something about this one called to me in all the right ― or was it wrong? ― ways.
I didn't even know his name, and his demeanor never defrosted above lukewarm except for his short, resentful glances. Those were full of fire. I had no idea what that meant, but some long-buried instinct insisted he was just as drawn to me as I was to him, though he'd never addressed me with anything nicer than icy politeness.
In my mind, I'd decided he was a hermit, a tortured soul, just waiting for a good woman like me to help heal his wounds. Right.
I shook my head as I took my notepad over to his booth. He was waiting for me, his eyes not averted as they had been before.
They were pitch-black.
"Did you get contacts?" I blurted, immediately blushing at my invasive question. Well, there's no doubt he knows how closely I've been watching him now... "I could have sworn they were amber...but they're so...black," I kept babbling, unable to stop the flow of drivel once it had started.
"Maybe it's time to replace the lightbulbs," he said curtly, focusing on his book and scribbling away. "Must be the fluorescent light. Makes everyone look like the walking dead." A tight, tiny smirk flirted with one corner of his mouth, and I had to fight the urge to lick my lips and whimper. I couldn't take much more of this...whatever it was.
Was he joking? God, I think I liked it. Shivers ran right through me, shaking my heart against my ribs, and I prayed I showed no outward sign of distress. Managing a quick smile, I nodded dumbly as I tried to calm my racing heart. More than half of me suspected he wasn't joking.
"Coffee, right?" I asked, unable to tear my eyes from his.
"Yes," he answered, and his tone was grave, like this was the most serious matter in the world. "Do you usually remember customers' orders?" A brow arched as he looked at me cockily, and I was once again thrown by his mercurial shift in mood.
"No, just yours," I said, trying to sound bored as I pivoted to go and get his coffee. There. Smirk at that.
He had nothing to say as I delivered his drink and resumed my perch on the stool to wait until Jess came in to take over. Of course, I couldn't ignore him, though I was pretty sure he was aware of my not-so-covert observations.
Before long, Jess came barreling through the back, knotting her apron as she went. "Hey, Bells! Looks like another hopping night, huh?" she snorted, adjusting her curly ponytail with an obvious glance at our nightly visitor. "He's back?" she hissed, her eyebrows rising halfway up her forehead as she hooked a thumb over her shoulder. "Someone's got an admirer."
"Shut it, Jess. The man hates me. Half the time, he looks at me like I'm something he wants to eat or rip limb from limb. The other half, he looks all tormented and tortured and I just want to lick him―" I abruptly cut myself off when I realized the volume of my voice. When I chanced a look in his direction, he was watching with a puzzled look on his face, and I could have sworn he was amused. Spooked, I turned back to Jessica, turning over the nightly duties to her with relief.
His eyes followed me as I passed the window in front of his booth as I walked to my truck. And then I completely surprised myself. Whether it was lack of sleep, elation over the end of the term, or just sheer exhaustion, I didn't know, but I tossed him a flirtatious smile as I passed.
I was too chicken to see if he smiled back.
o-o-o
Two days later, I was back at the diner, packing up my things as Jess got ready for her shift.
"Where's your guy?" she asked, trying to seem casual, but she always had been pretty transparent. "He was here on your days off...looked pretty bummed that you weren't around."
Well, he wasn't here tonight, and I was more disappointed than I let on. "He's not my guy, Jess. I don't even know his name," I protested, slinging the strap of my backpack over one shoulder and heading for the door.
"All I'm saying is he sure looked like he was missing someone, and it wasn't me, if you know what I mean. Dude wouldn't even eat anything ― not a burger, or any of my pie."
I laughed loudly. "Jess, please tell me you didn't offer him your pie." I didn't know if I was pissed or impressed at her apparent balls of steel.
"Hey, can you blame me? He's hot...but he shut me down really fast. Like he was offended or something, you know?" She leaned closer, giving me a concerned look. "He was almost...scary, Bella."
I snorted, earning a dark frown as I pushed open the door to the chilly wet outside. "Don't worry, Jess. It's never going to happen," I called. "For me, anyway. You're free to keep trying." I had no idea if she heard me or not, as the rain was currently pouring in true Midwestern storm fashion, forcing me to try to run to my truck as thunder and lightning crashed around me.
In true horror-movie victim style, I made it to the truck without incident, hopping into the dry cab with a sigh of relief. But when I shoved the key into the temperamental ignition and twisted, there was nothing. The rain pounded on the steel roof of my ancient behemoth, and though I listened hard, it drowned out any sounds that might give me a clue as to what the problem was.
A sharp rap on the window startled the shit out of me, and I jumped so high I almost hit my head on the roof of the cab. A bearded, rough-looking guy with a trucker hat had his face pressed to the glass as he motioned for me to roll the window down. Something about the situation raised my intuition ― instincts, Spidey-senses, whatever you wanted to call them ― and I really didn't want to open the door to this guy. He rapped on the window again, scowling at me when I wouldn't do what he wanted. I saw him reaching for my door handle, and I locked the door as fast as I could.
He roared something I couldn't hear over the thunder and rain, which was growing more intense by the moment.
"Fuck..." he was yelling, as lightning struck somewhere nearby. "...Under your hood!"
What was that? 'Under my hood?' Is that some sort of horrible euphemism for rape? He started running around the front fender, and it only took a second for it to register that he was heading for my unlocked passenger door ― and I wasn't going to make it this time.
My heart raced as I tried to remember every self-defense tip Charlie had ever given me. I wanted to cry when I thought of how disappointed he would have been that I couldn't even remember enough to save my sorry life in an emergency. Just as I heard the rattle of the old door handle, the man's shadow was suddenly ripped away, and it was as if he'd never been there. I waited a moment, and then slapped the other door locked as well. Skittishly, I peered through the rain-smeared window, finding myself looking into eyes that were black as night and practically glowed in the midst of an angry, accusing scowl.
My Hermit! He saved me...and he's frowning?
I cranked the old window down and the rain came streaming in, but as I slowly revealed him in clear view, it didn't matter. My heart sped even faster as I took him in; from the rain-darkened hair that fell into those hypnotic eyes, down the slightly crooked line of his nose, and his lips ― God, his lips ― he was beautiful. His face was all sharp angles and smooth planes, with details like thick, low brows and deep-set eyes that made him look so serious, and very capable.
"Hi," I managed, trying not to squeak.
"What do you think you're doing, sitting out here in this...truck―" and oh, his lips were pretty, even twisted with disdain as he described my vehicle "―in the middle of a thunderstorm, just a sitting duck for any pervert to come along and do what he wants with you?"
"Did you just call yourself a pervert?" Why am I joking? I almost got bagged by some criminal, and I'm joking. In front of the best-looking guy I've ever met.
"Very funny." Oh, he did the stern face so well...
"I think my battery is dead or something. I was going to call AAA, but then that really scary guy showed up." I suppressed a shiver at my words, and swear to God, he growled. Normal guys didn't growl, did they? It must have been some very far away thunder...
"Don't worry about him, Bella. He's not coming back," he said darkly as he fixed me with a look that could have singed off my eyebrows. Whoa...he is not amused. Silently, he opened my door and grabbed my hand, stalking with me to a nondescript silver sedan and practically stuffing me into the passenger seat. Wait a minute...did I unlock the truck and let him in? I must have...
"Wait here." he said softly, his voice in direct contrast to his rougher handling of my person. I didn't think it was deliberate, and it seemed that he wasn't aware his fingers were gripping me just a little too tightly. Even stranger still was the cool press of his skin...so cold! Had he been out here in the rain before I left work? "I'll go see if I can figure out what's wrong."
With that, he shut me in with my thoughts. I took a deep breath, catching the faint trace of him, and though I'd only seen him twice before, I hadn't forgotten the way he smelled. I shivered as the rain cooled on the ends of my soaked hair, rainwater bleeding through my t-shirt at the shoulders. Heat was necessary, and I needed it now.
How the hell do you turn on the heater in this thing? All these knobs and glowing buttons...
Somehow, I managed to figure it out, and soon, the interior of the car was warming up nicely. It was like being in a little Hermit cocoon, warm and soft and soothing, the scent familiar and comforting despite the cacophony going on outside.
A few minutes later I spotted his tall form heading through the rain, and his expression didn't bode well for my truck. He scowled as he slipped gracefully into the passenger seat and slammed the door. Raking his hand through his hair, he sent droplets of rain everywhere, getting water all over the leather upholstery. Before I had time to formulate a greeting, he took on that statue-like quality again, and it was weird, but fascinating.
"You turned on the heater." How the hell did he manage to stay so still?
"I was cold. It's rainy." Unable to fight back my curiosity, I stared at him, catching my mouth just barely hanging open at the sight of this guy when wet. I was mesmerized. There should be some sort of law forbidding this man to ever be dry. Half of me (the lower half) was mostly in love with him already, weirdness be damned.
What the hell is wrong with me? I don't even believe in this kind of crap. Not really, anyway...my whiny, naïve inner child was stupid and always wanted all the fairytale shit, but the rest of me had learned the hard way that in the real world, life was no fairytale.
It hadn't been completely horrible ― I've always had a roof over my head and food to eat, but losing my parents at eighteen wasn't the easiest thing to live through. My father, the Chief of Police in our tiny town, was killed only truly violent crime to happen our tiny town outside of Phoenix in a decade or more. I was just glad they never realized what hit them. Life sucked sometimes. But mine was getting better, slowly. I was doing well in school, which would have thrilled my parents, and I had a nice chunk of money saved away.
"...something wrong with the wires..." Oh! He was talking, his voice low and fast, that pretty face strained as he finally broke through my thoughts.
"What's your name?" I blurted, rudely interrupting him. Apparently, I didn't care what was wrong with my truck. Where have my manners gone?
"What?" He seemed surprised, like he couldn't conceive of little ol' me being so forward and blunt. His chest moved as he started to take a deep breath, but he caught himself and moved noticeably away from me, until his shoulder hit the glass. For a fraction of a second, he looked terrified, and I again started wondering what the hell his problem was. Was he claustrophobic?
That's not so bad...it even gives him sympathy points in my book, and I certainly wouldn't mind comforting him if he's afraid...yes, that's it! Comfort. Right.
"Hey, it's okay, you know."
"What's okay?"
"I know what you are."
"You do?" Now he was definitely terrified. His voice was more urgent and demanding than I'd ever heard it, like my answer would yield the equivalent of world peace or provide the cure for a terminal disease.
"You're claustrophobic. It's okay, you know. If you have trouble controlling it."
He laughed, but his smile had an almost miserable twist to it, like he was trying really hard to put on a good front. "You have no idea." His eyes remained glued straight ahead, staring out the windshield.
"Do you need to...I don't know, breathe through it, or something?"
"I am," he said quickly, taking one shallow breath. "My doctor recommends infrequent, shallow breaths to get through this sort of thing. It's new." He smirked at me, and I blinked, blushing at his stare.
"Oh. Are you sure you're going to be okay? Should I call someone?"
"No, no."
"No, what? And what's your name? You know mine. You have to tell me ― you probably saved me from being some serial killer's latest victim." He laughed at this, and it was genuine. I couldn't look away.
"No, Bella, you don't need to call anyone. My name is Edward. I should apologize for not introducing myself sooner," he finished in his rich tone. It was like melted chocolate, that voice ― hot, smooth, and sweet, with a glossy finish that was something...extra. I couldn't even begin to explain it, but everything about him wrapped around me like a cloak, warming me and drawing me into the fold.
"Edward," I repeated, and damn it, it might have been a little breathy. He stiffened at my gust of breath, and I panicked, trying to remember if I'd eaten anything stinky like garlic or onions at dinner.
After another awkward silence, he spoke up. "Well, as I was saying before, I couldn't find anything wrong with your battery, but it looked like some of the wires had been tampered with. I think it was all part of your...serial killer's plan."
Was that just a hint of a smile? Then he licked his lips and swallowed slowly, and who the heck cared if he'd possibly smiled, because the lip licking and the Adam's apple bobbing? It really did it for me. He did smile then, but it was rueful, pushing back my lust and triggering the feeling of being trapped in the chilled cab of my truck, with a strange man banging at my window.
"I take it my truck won't be leaving the lot tonight," I said, already mentally calculating how much this was going to cost me. But it was more than just monetary trauma.
"Unfortunately, you're right," he confirmed, looking at me as if I was fragile, and I wondered what my face was giving away. "I'll be happy to give you a lift home, of course."
"I can never thank you enough." Onyx eyes met mine, and equal parts of me wanted to shrink back against the passenger side of the car or throw myself in his lap. Something was definitely wrong with me. Was this the first sign of some kind of post-traumatic stress?
"You can," he said gravely, turning away again. "Trust me." It was so strange, the way his voice could go from emotion-filled to completely flat, with no traceable inflection. It was robotic, yet fluid, and I had to suppress a laugh as I wondered fleetingly if he was some kind of android. 'Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep,' Edward? Though if he was an android, that would certainly explain his abso-freaking-lute perfectness. He'd have had to be designed by some really horny female roboticist, and she deserved the fucking Nobel Prize.
Wow. This shock thing is really getting to me. To distract myself, I began a tentative search of my pockets, looking for my keys, but I couldn't seem to find them. I realized they must have been in my bag ― which was back in Big Red.
"Edward? I'm sorry again...but I left my bag in the truck. I need my keys to get into the apartment. Would you mind getting it?" I really didn't want to get back out in that rain again.
He sighed, as if I was asking him some great favor. I supposed I was, considering the power of the storm outside, but really, who was supposed to be the traumatized one here?
"Fine. I'll be right back." He was gone literally before I stopped hearing the words. Weird. My neurons must be running behind tonight. But he was back just as quickly, handing over my bag as he slid back inside the car, bringing with him a wash of fresh rain, ozone, and Hermit.
"Thank you, thank you so much." I started for my keys, but instead I found the flask that had been there since Jess first pulled me aside at work to give me the scoop on the place. Right now, I could really see the appeal of a good, stiff drink.
I gestured with the flask, offering it to him first. At his refusal, I shrugged, uncapping it with shaking fingers, and eagerly taking a healthy swig. The caustic, smoky burn was too much, and I would've dropped the entire thing if Edward hadn't steadied my hand as I tried not to spit whiskey all over his dashboard. By some miracle, I managed to swallow past the burn, finally hearing Edward's soft chuckle. All I could think was that his hand was still touching mine, and that I never wanted him to stop.
"Easy there, Beautiful." Beautiful? Oh, my God... Then his hand was gone, and I had to fight to keep the disappointment from showing in my face as I tightened the cap back on the flask and held it in my lap.
"Sorry," I sputtered hoarsely. "It looks a lot easier on television, doesn't it?" I could feel the whiskey warming my stomach already, and I sunk back into the soft passenger seat, allowing my eyes to close.
"Do you always carry a flask of whiskey in your bag?" he asked, sounding amused.
"It's been there for months. Jess gave it to me when I started working at the diner. She said it might come in handy."
"Rude customers?" His tone was wry, and I saw his smirk as I chanced a look at him. I raised an eyebrow, and he had the good grace to look contrite. "Sorry," he chuckled.
A few awkward and silent minutes went by before I was brave enough to look his way again. "Edward?"
He was studying his steering wheel like it was some kind of fascinating new invention, and his head snapped up. "Yes?"
"Would you mind giving me a ride home, or are we going to sit here in your car all night?"
"Oh, yes, of course," he muttered, starting the car and whipping out of the parking lot. Holy shit, he drove fast!
To distract myself from his speed ― hell, his very presence ― I started to map out the route I'd take if I was driving. Apparently, I'd been speaking out loud, since Edward was suddenly turning the corner into my neighborhood. Maybe it was the liquor. I should probably have another drink soon...a smaller one, this time.
"This is me, right up here." I pointed at the left side of the street, toward the three-story building that housed my apartment. Parking was scarce, as usual, and we ended up at the next block over. He handled the car smoothly, confidently, and as edgy as his earlier driving had made me, this expert display of control put me at ease. When the car was parked, he made no move to turn off the engine. I wondered if he intended to just drop me off and pull away. But if he was going to do that, he could have just stopped in front of the house. There wasn't much traffic out this late on a weeknight, in a thunderstorm, no less. Did he want me to invite him up? Did I want him to want me to invite him up?
"Lincoln Square?" He eyed my comfortable, old t-shirt and well-worn jeans, and I was a little mad ― he was judging me. I knew I completed the slacker girl look down to the worn navy-blue chucks, but they also happened to be the most comfortable pair of shoes in the world.
"Yeah," I said flatly, daring him to comment further. I didn't really know him, and he certainly didn't need to know about the settlement I had from the incident that killed my parents. "Long story." I smiled, hoping to distract him. Deciding it was time for that drink, I clumsily unscrewed the metal cap and carefully tipped the flask to my lips. He watched me intently, one hand coming up to steady my traitorously shaky fingers. He also took the whiskey away faster than I wanted him to, and I tried to scowl at him through the no doubt hideous face I was making from the taste of the booze.
"Careful," he murmured, and I noticed that the rain had started to let up. The loud rumble of thunder soon after, though, warned us that the reprieve wouldn't be long. "We still have to get you to your front door."
"You'll walk me? You could have just dropped me off in front, you know. Stay out of the rain."
"Of course I'll walk you!" He sounded offended that I'd actually question it. "What kind of man would I be if I let you walk the city streets by yourself?"
"You're right," I agreed with a tiny smile. "That wouldn't be very chivalrous."
"Exactly," he huffed, leaving the car in a hurry, getting my door open much faster than he should have. "Plus, you're drunk."
"I'm not drunk," I insisted as he helped me out of the car in the blink of an eye. Whoa, maybe I was wrong. That was way too fast. Crap...I am drunk. How embarrassing.
"Right, right." He was smug, and I didn't like it. Thunder boomed in the distance, and we started walking. I must have done an awesome job pointing out my building, because he automatically went off in the right direction. I held onto his hand as tightly as I could, never wanting to let go, and really needing the grip in order to keep up with his quick pace.
"Edward," I called, trying not to pant from exertion. "Slow down!" He stopped so suddenly that I smacked into his shoulder with my own, somehow managing to hit one of those points that makes you go rigid with that numb pain, sending pins and needles down my arm. "Owww! Funny bone," I moaned, because I really didn't have the breath to yell.
"Bella, are you all right?" Was I?
Then I was in his arms, and it wasn't so bad. He cradled my uninjured shoulder against his side, wrapping a long arm around my back and resting his hand at my waist. It was a tight hold, yet gentle, more like being strapped inside one of those roller-coaster restraint things, and it wasn't uncomfortable. And he was fast, that was for sure. Then again, I was apparently drunk as a preacher's kid after her first time dipping into the sacramental wine. I also felt like my feet were moving faster and faster, like Fred Flintstone when he drove his caveman car.
Since I was drunk, and I had an easy excuse, I turned my nose into his chest, blatantly inhaling the scent of him, sweet and spicy and dangerous, with a trace of whiskey...wait, that was probably my breath.
"Keys?" Edward murmured, and I snapped my eyes open to realize we were standing right in front of my door.
"How did you know my address?" I demanded, suddenly scared, and positive I'd never told him my apartment number.
"You told me, Bella," he answered with a small, patronizing smile as he released his hold on me. No, I didn't...did I? "Are you sure you're okay?" Oh, his voice was so quizzical...and so smug, like he knew I'd fall for his bullshit.
Well, he was right, damn it. I fished the keys from my bag, clumsily handing them over and really enjoying the way it felt when his fingers brushed against mine. Note to self, Bella: never drink in front of a handsome man again. At least until you're old enough to drink! The door swung open, and he swept his arm in the direction of the threshold.
"After you," he said, finishing with a slight bow of his head, and I almost melted at the knees. Knowing my cheeks were stained bright red, I hurried inside, jumping when the door clicked shut behind me. I whirled around, half-expecting ― half-hoping ― him to be gone. But he was right there, those perfect lips curved in an off-center grin that made my stomach sink in the most pleasant way. My mouth was suddenly dry.
"I need some water. How about you?"
"No, thank you. I'm―" he cleared his throat "―not...thirsty."
"Would you like to sit down?" I asked nervously, wringing my hands to release some kind of tension. He nodded, and I pointed him toward the couch and then took my yellow-bellied ass to the kitchen as fast as possible.
Okay, Bella...just stay calm. There is a gorgeous, mysterious guy in your living room, and you MUST play it cool. You don't have to do anything. But..."kinda I want to..."
No! I couldn't start thinking of Trent Reznor...something about him made my pants want to fall right off, no matter how cliche everyone else thought it was. It was something the artist had in common with the guy in my living room.
After finally gathering a modicum of confidence, I grabbed a cup from the cabinet ― one of the good, real glass ones, not the various plastic cups I'd amassed from various restaurants in the past couple years. Heading straight for the faucet, I quickly gulped one glass and was working on filling another when he was suddenly right behind me.
"Everything okay in here?"
The glass slipped from my hands, shattering in the sink. I immediately went to grab the biggest piece before it could slip down the drain and ruin the garbage disposal.
"Bella, don't!" Edward shouted, grabbing at my hand. We both slipped, and I sliced open the pad of my thumb.
"Ouch!" Fuck real glasses. It's plastic cups from now on.
We both stared down as I pressed at the edges of my wound, blood welling up a little too quickly for my liking. I didn't think it was too bad, until I looked at Edward. His eyes locked onto the red droplets with an intensity that I didn't want to think too hard about. I blinked, and then I was pulled up against him, my wet hands pressed between us. He lifted our hands to his mouth, putting his lips to my knuckles, letting me feel their smooth texture as he skimmed over the bony ridges.
His eyes met mine as he got closer to my bloodied thumb, and abruptly, his eyes heated. Now he looked hungry, thirsty, his gaze nearly all pupil, and I wanted more than anything to be what he craved. One cool breath later, his tongue was velvety smooth against my delicate skin.
I had a sudden, unexplainable urge to feel his teeth.
His kiss was audible as his lips left my hand, but he didn't move far.
"How old are you?" he asked suddenly, pinning me in place with his gaze.
"Old enough. Nineteen. How old are you?"
He paused, smirking. "Old enough." His eyes, however, said much, much more. "Bella, tell me you know what you're doing," he said, so seriously, his eyes glowing impossibly bright. Here, in the brighter light of my apartment, I could see the tiniest slivers of whiskey brown intermixed with the black. I had tunnel vision, and all I could see was him. "Tell me you know what's happening here, please."
"I know what I'm doing." It wasn't really a lie ― I wasn't a virgin, but my history was extremely limited, to say the least...and I hadn't ever felt anything like this.
But what if that's not all he's asking me?
"You promise?" He focused on my thumb again, pulling it into his mouth and sucking hard. The cut stung, previously clotted blood flowing again, and there was something very, very wrong about this, about him... But holy shit, it felt so right.
Instead of answering, I pushed. I didn't see any other choice. It was better this way, if I could coax him into making a decision.
"Kiss me," I demanded, grabbing his jaw with my other hand, trying to pull my thumb from his mouth. Reluctantly, he let me go, and I dropped my tingling hand to his waist. His head lowered, and I surged up on the very tips of my toes, our lips colliding. He was gentle, his mouth starting off so cool, but soon warming a bit against mine.
A low moan tickled my lips, and I was suddenly sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter, his hips between my legs. I again cursed my low tolerance for alcohol ― how much better would this feel with a clear head? I was missing all his manly feats of strength.
"Raise your arms for me," he whispered, his lips running along my cheek to my ear. His hands skimmed up my sides, catching my t-shirt and tossing it away. I did the same for him, baring his chest to me. He was cool; again, I didn't mind, since I finally had him half-naked and I could feel the points of his nipples brushing against my skin. Right then, I made it my personal mission to warm every part of his body tonight. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I pressed my lips to his collarbones, nibbling at his soft, yet hard skin, marveling at the texture of him.
"I don't have the strength to stay away from you anymore." It was a hot whisper, flowing breath over tingling skin at my temple.
"Then...don't." A simple, honest request. Please...don't reject me. I'm tired of being alone. Licking my lips, I trailed them up his neck, leaning into him as I nipped at the skin under his jaw, making him stiffen. I knew he was doing the statue thing, and I wanted that to stop. Again, I closed my teeth on skin that seemed impossibly hard, yet still supple.
"You don't know what you're asking for," he practically growled.
I'm only asking you to spend the night, Edward. Of course, I didn't have the balls to say it out loud, so I covered his mouth with mine, loving the soft yet firm give of his lips. I wanted to kiss him forever, to feel his tongue on mine, feel his lips sliding over my skin. My lips parted on a breath, and it was his air I took into my lungs, sweet and intoxicating. He went further, rubbing his open mouth over mine, finally sealing our mouths together, our tongues sliding in one perfect moment of perfection as the force of his kiss pushed my head back against the cabinets.
I curved one hand around his side, slowly following the waistband of his jeans, until I could feel him underneath the denim. He ripped his mouth away from mine, his head hitting the cabinet beside me with a startling thump, his hands frozen against the counter on either side of my hips. A soft moan welled out of him, the vibration heavenly against my neck as he moved to rest his lips against my shoulder. I could feel his lips move as if he was speaking, but no sound came...and he didn't move my hand away.
What was he saying? Was he...counting? I wanted to laugh, but then the tip of his tongue traced over my shoulder to the strap of my bra, and I really wished I was naked in front of him.
As if he knew what I was thinking, the tension was gone, the lace snapped in two. How in the hell...? In seconds, he was at my other side, repeating the same motion, and then my ruined bra was gone. He rubbed the tip of his nose over my collarbone, inhaling deeply, before dragging his face down the middle of my chest. His lips brushed over the curve of my breast, his breath sending prickles of heat dancing across my skin. I was ready to explode, and just from his mouth alone ― his hands remained firmly planted at my hips.
His tongue touched my nipple before his lips did, and something about seeing his tongue made me just want more of it. With my free hand, I curled my fingers in the hair at the back of his neck, trying to urge him closer. He breathed out a short, soft grunt against my skin, his face creasing in want.
I couldn't help crying out, the sound ending in a strangled moan as he fastened his mouth over my nipple, sucking gently. A whimper stuck in my throat, but as soon as he finally touched me again, his hands curving along my ribs, I couldn't hold it back.
"Will you let me take you to bed?" he murmured, licking his way up my chest. Oh, so proper, Edward.
"Yes," I whispered, trying not to be nervous, to relax, oh, hell...I wanted to rock his world, I couldn't deny it. In a literal blink of an eye, he was placing me in my unmade bed, coming closer and settling on top of me. I no longer pretended I was losing time to intoxication...I had to accept that he simply moved that fast.
He had my jeans open in seconds, but had trouble removing them completely, as my shoes were still on. I laughed softly as a frustrated groan escaped him, and he looked like he wanted to destroy the offensive footwear. It wasn't long before he'd finished, and he was looking up at me with a gentle, yet hungry stare.
On all fours, he crawled over me, and I couldn't help the shudder of fear that trickled down my spine. But then his hands were back on my torso, one cool palm drifting up and down, tracing the undersides of my breasts. After a few seconds, he continued up, spreading his fingers over my collarbones before dragging his hand down between us. Faint red blushes followed his path, smudging my stomach and lower, heat following wherever he touched. The backs of his fingers brushed back and forth over the flimsy cotton of my underwear, and I knew he could feel how wet I was. His other hand held the back of my head, clenched in my hair.
The scratch of denim against my sensitive skin was torture. He needed to be naked, now. I reached for the buttons of his jeans, and I wanted to smile when he didn't stop me. Parting the fabric, I freed his erection to lay thick and heavy against my stomach. I helped him shove his jeans down past his knees using my feet, and then we were both naked, my heart racing against his chest. His fingers were still exploring between my legs, the soaked cotton adding a teasing element to his touches. I wanted to be completely bare before him, just as he was before me.
As if he could read my mind, he kissed his way up my chest, meeting my eyes as he ripped away the last barrier between us. "Ooops," he said with a wicked laugh, and covered my lips with his. As we kissed, his fingers continued their gentle strokes, until I could feel firm pressure against my opening. His hips pushed against mine, and then his fingers were inside me, cool and strong and perfect.
"Holy shit," I breathed against his lips, closing my eyes at the force of the feelings he was pulling from me. My back tensed in a tight arch, pressing my chest into his. I felt sticky; my skin was hot and damp, and the hard, cool smoothness of his chest felt wonderful against mine. Our mouths were open and barely touching, sharing breath and sound and taste.
His thumb found my clit, slicking wet circles in perfect rhythm with the thrust of his fingers. I could feel myself tensing all around him, and the tighter he wound me, the more I wanted of him.
"Is that it?" he asked softly, almost like he was trying to soothe me. "Does that feel good?"
I literally couldn't speak. My "yes" came out as a strangled moan as he reached deeper, rubbed faster, until static filled my ears and tension prickled all over my skin.
"Are you close?" he whispered, rubbing his lips over mine as he spoke.
Feeling as if I was suffocating, it took all my energy to answer. "Yes...right there." I couldn't even open my eyes, and my head lay limply against his hand. He whispered words of praise as he worked me faster, managing to widen my legs and settle between my hips at the same time. I could feel him slowly pushing his hips into mine, his motions giving extra weight to the movement of his hand. I knew what was coming, and I wanted it more than anything...ever. The point of no return was approaching, all sensation streaming into one point in my body. It grew and grew until I snapped, sagging in his arms as I came.
"I want you so much," he murmured, his voice warm with relief and hoarse with lust. Both hands were in my hair now, and I looked sleepily up at him as he brushed some stray strands from my face.
"You have me," I promised, closing my eyes and arching my back as he moved forward, sinking into me. I loved the tingling, burning stretch, the cool and hard surface of his skin. We moved together so easily, as if we'd done this before, many times. His hips pounded into mine, creating a delicious, dull ache I knew would leave bruises, but I couldn't care less. He was hitting somewhere deep inside, his length reaching a place that had me arching and shivering in orgasm once again as I dug my fingers into his shoulders and wrapped my legs around his hips.
"No...no..." he was muttering, his lips nipping at my neck. I assumed he was trying to hold back, but I knew I couldn't take any more. And I wanted him to come...I wanted to watch him at my mercy.
"Let go, Edward. It's okay," I whispered, placing a palm against his chest.
His still, silent chest. No heartbeat.
Is it still okay, Bella? IS IT? He raised his head, those pitch-black eyes swallowing me whole. Something about it wasn't right...like he wasn't there. I refused to let myself think about it, because this was Edward. He's...important. That was all that mattered. My slight nod was all it took to convince him, and I swear I could see the change in his eyes. They were intense, as always, but he watched me with more reverence than I'd ever seen ― it was like I'd just given him something priceless...something that would be his new most prized possession. He smiled down at me sweetly, beginning to thrust against me gently, and then harder...faster.
"Feels so...fucking...good," he panted, and I might have moaned his name, but I couldn't be sure. He was still gazing at me with those deep eyes, his beautiful face lined with desperate tension. As his release built, he froze, growling as he came inside me, his head dropping to my chest.
Suddenly, a sharp slice seared the skin right above my heart. Edward was sucking at the swell of my breast, and there was pain as his teeth closed harder, tearing further, ensuring more blood would flow.
"No...stop! It hurts...make it stop," I moaned, screaming in pain as the burning hit full-force. Why is he doing this to me? Why didn't he tell me? Why didn't he ASK? Blackness was creeping in at the edges of my vision when finally, he swiped his tongue over the bite. The fire increased tenfold, radiating outward from my heart as complete darkness fell over my eyes. The last thing I saw were Edward's eyes above me, black bleeding into crimson to match the smudge at one corner of his mouth. His gaze was filled with bitter regret as he bent toward my throat.
"Bella, shhh...you'll be fine. I'll help you, love, I promise."
It hadn't occurred to me until now that his help was something I shouldn't have wanted. He was something I shouldn't have wanted.
There's no turning back now.
And then I fell into the fire.
-End of Part One-
I realize I'm committing what some consider the cardinal sin of telling the same event from two points of view, but I hope it was different enough that it didn't feel repetitive. I guess you could count this and the original O/S as a ridiculously long prologue of sorts.
I thought I ended it happy enough, but lots of you asked what happens when she wakes up. Since I have fic ADD and can't seem to write what I'm supposed to at the moment, I'll tack on a little novella detailing how these two find their HEA. Yeah, I know...I suck. I'm working on it. Promise.
I'll be posting the continuation here, so if you'd like to read, you know what to do. ;)
Thanks for reading, and as always, I'd love to know what you think.