Hello! I hope all of those who celebrate it had a merry Christmas! I know I did, but it's also what kept me away from this for longer than I'd have liked!
Thank you to all of you who have reviewed each time you read - it makes my day to hear what you think. Thanks also to any of you who have put this story on story alert or added this story to your favorites list. I'm beyond pleased that you like this. I'd love to hear what you think, even if it's just a simple 'I liked it' or 'that was terrible'!
As a recap, Bella went out with Demetri and went to visit Edward afterward, who didn't seem very pleased about her date.
Any with that - we're off to the airport...
No copyright infringement is intended. This story is not intended for readers under the age of 18.
WANDERLUST - CHAPTER 4
Have you ever had a really hot, steamy sex dream? You know, the kind where it's so real, it's like you can feel the heat between your body and his, the ripple of his muscles as he moves above you? The kind that leaves you panting and waking up with heart palpitations, wanting to kill your alarm because the last thing anybody wants to do after sex like that, real or otherwise, is get up and go to work? I've never admitted it to anyone, but I have dreams like that about Edward. I have them pretty often, too. I think, probably, the reason they're so life-like is because I actually know what it's like to have sex with Edward. But there is one part of the dream that's fabricated. It's the part that sucks the breath out of my lungs and makes my heart flutter and the part that disappoints me the most if I wake up before it happens. It's the part where we kiss.
Perhaps I should explain. When Edward and I started this whole friends-with-benefits thing, we decided there'd be no kissing on the lips. Maybe it was stupid, and maybe it was backwards, but kissing seemed too serious to me and somehow even more intimate than the act of sex itself. It wasn't a means to an end the way sex was.
Edward and I had been engaging in illicit meetings here and there for about four months before I had the first dream. It started out as a sort of carbon copy of a random time that I'd gone over to Edward's apartment to play FIFA and ended up naked and underneath him on the shaggy black rug that covers the hardwood floor in his living room. At first, the dream followed reality so closely that it was almost more of a memory than a dream. There wasn't anything particularly interesting about it – I gripped Edward's ass as he lay between my legs, thrusting his pelvis against my own while he closed his emerald eyes shut, trying to hold out until he could make me come. It was just like it had happened in real life – until it wasn't.
In real life, I moved my hand between us, giving myself that extra push to the finish. Edward followed closely behind me, and that was it. We got dressed again, picked up our controllers and had a penalty kick competition. Satisfying, even if it wasn't too exciting. But in the dream, Edward opens his eyes, smiles at me, and leans down to press his lips against mine. I move my hands up his back and into his hair, pressing his face against mine as he runs his tongue along my lower lip and into my mouth until I gasp against his lips and fall into oblivion.
I've felt Edward's lips on my cheek, on my forehead, along my neck and collarbone and in places that make me blush to think about. Nobody knows this, but there are few things I'd like more than to just feel his lips against my own. I know I don't act like it, and I have my reasons for that.
Edward isn't shy about what he wants in a relationship, or at least he hasn't been in the past. Even in high school, when I didn't know him that well, I remember how confident he was with girls. If he wants to ask someone out, he asks them out. Hell, if he wants to be friends with benefits he just puts it out there. He's never asked me for more than that, so I have no reason to think he wants more and I keep my options open. I flirt with guys here and there. I accept dates when I'm asked. I'm afraid that if I don't, someday Edward will find someone and I won't even have this pseudo-relationship. I'll just be alone and I don't want to be alone. I've spent enough of my life doing it that I know it's not for me.
We promised we'd tell each other if things "got weird" because our friendship was more important than anything else. Scratching an itch wasn't worth the risk, so if we were going to do it, we had to be honest with each other. But I swear, I didn't even realize it happening. And then, one day, it was just too late.
So, I ignore the part of me that could fall in love with Edward, and maybe already has. Because, you know, the only thing worse than being alone is being in love alone. And really, pretending you're not in love is much easier than you'd think. I've even got myself believing it. Almost.
#WL#
I sleep in until almost noon the next morning and Edward's not there when I wake up. He left a note that he's gone to Emmett's to watch some soccer game they've been looking forward to and I can just lock the door on my way out.
My dress is draped over the chair in the corner of the room and I roll out of bed to go get it. I pull Edward's t-shirt over my head and realize that my bra's still on. I hate sleeping with it on, so I must have been more tired than I thought if I didn't notice. I throw the t-shirt into the hamper in Edward's closet and put my dress back on then decide I should make the bed. Edward doesn't usually make his bed, but it might be nice of me to do it for him. For a second, I even think of changing his sheets for him, but then I realize that he'll only be sleeping here one more night before we leave, so it probably isn't worth it.
Once the covers are smoothed and the pillows are fluffed and arranged (not that they could be that impressive, there's only two), I walk out through the living room to the entry way and step into my shoes. My coat's hanging on the hook behind the door and I find my purse hanging underneath it so I dig through it to find my phone before slinging it over my shoulder. I go outside and lock the door behind me and take the stairs on the stoop carefully – it's absolutely freezing today and they're still frosty half way through the day. Despite the cold, it's not worth taking the train – Edward only lives ten blocks from me.
Once I'm safely on the level sidewalk, I begin my trek toward home, ignoring the 'walk-of-shame' looks I'm getting from people I pass and look down at the screen of my phone. I've got two missed calls – one from my mom and another from a number I don't recognize. Mom didn't leave a message, but I'm not surprised. She just expects me to call her back so she rarely bothers. The other person did leave a message and I never get calls from numbers I don't recognize, so I'm guessing it's Demetri. I press play and when message starts up and I'm right, it is him. He's calling to tell me that he won't be able to go out tonight – he needs to stay late for rehearsal – but he had a good time last night and wants me to call him when I get back from the first leg of filming. I really should be making sure everything's ready to go and just kind of lying low tonight anyway, so the cancellation doesn't upset me much.
I go to my favorites screen and choose Edward's number from the top of the list. The phone rings and rings and finally goes to voicemail.
"You've reached Edward Cullen. Please leave a message and I'll call you back when I can."
"Hey, Edward. It's me," I say as I come up to the stairs to my own building. "I'm sorry I was so boring last night. Want to come over for dinner? I'm just hanging out, going over my packing checklist one more time. Anyway, call me back, okay?"
I end the call and make my way up to my apartment. Once I'm inside, I strip off my dress immediately and head right for the bathroom. Not taking a shower for over twenty four hours tends to make me feel pretty disgusting and I rush right past the mirror because I don't even want to know how gross I must have looked trekking down the street.
When I'm done in the shower, I check my phone for messages but Edward hasn't called back yet. I go back to the bathroom to take the towel off my head, decide to let my hair air dry so it will be wavy and put on a coat of mascara in case I have to go out again even though I will probably just order delivery tonight. My lengthy packing checklist is sitting on my dining table and after turning on the TV, I drag my suitcases into the living room to go over their contents. Like I said before, I tend to over-pack and this time is no exception. I've got enough t-shirts to last me a month, a few dresses, jeans in four different colors and so many pairs of panties, you could open a traveling lingerie shop out of my bag. Now I just need to get all my toiletries together, which I always save for last. Makeup, shampoo, hairbrush. Check, check, check. Did I mention that I love checklists? They're just so satisfying. Visual validation of having completed your chores. I love it.
I go through my bathroom drawers, throwing things that I must bring into my spill-proof bag and debating over things I could probably just buy there and save the packing space. Of course, I make sure all my travel-size things are already in here – I didn't go all the way to Target uptown for nothing. Tampons? Yes. I should bring those. You never know what kind they'll have in foreign countries. I'm due for that next week and even though I'm sure the ones in Ireland are just fine, period time is not the time to fuck around with your favorites. I stop when I see a strip of condoms next to the box of tampons. Edward left those here a few months ago after he dubbed me the worst condom buyer ever. I had picked out a new type that was supposed to have a fancy shape ('for her pleasure', of course) and some sort of lube that was supposed to be warming but, unfortunately, upon contact made my lady bits feel like they were on fire and definitely not in a good way. And that was after the first one ripped. Edward said the only thing that would make them worse is if they just poked holes in them for us.
Speaking of Edward, it's been a couple of hours since I started going over my checklist and he still hasn't called me. I don't want to be a pest, but I'll probably order dinner around five or so and that's only about an hour away. I pick up my phone and hit his name on the list. Just when I think it's going to go to voicemail again, he picks up.
"Hey, Bella." His voice sounds tired.
"Hey – are you okay? You don't sound…normal. Did you get my message?"
"Yeah, I've just got a lot on my mind," he sighs.
"'Yeah', you got my message or 'yeah', you're alright?"
"Both, I suppose."
"Oh. Well, you seemed kind of sad last night and now you just sound kind of tired. I just wanted to see if you wanted to have dinner with me tonight? Nothing fancy, I'm just ordering in. I'm thinking something middle-eastern."
He hesitates.
"I'll give you a minute to decide. I know that the choice between shawarma and falafel is always a hard one for you," I joke.
"Actually, I think I'm just going to stay in tonight. I need a little time to myself, Bella. To think about things."
Now it's my turn to hesitate. Think about things? This does not bode well.
"Things?" I hedge, prodding him to tell me more.
"I don't really want to talk about it. At least not right now," he says, his deep voice is soft, but serious.
"Edward, I'm not inviting you over for sex, if that's what you think," I blurt out. I know it wasn't the right thing to say, or even very sensitive, but I have a sort of burgeoning panic in the pit of my stomach.
"Look, Bella, I just…I need to make some choices, okay? And I need to make sure I'm making the right ones. I'll see you tomorrow."
He doesn't even wait for me to say goodbye before he hangs up. It occurs to me that he called me 'Bella' throughout the entire conversation. He calls me that off and on, but I don't think we've been through a conversation where he hasn't called me Blackbird for at least a year.
I shove the take-out menu I had in my hand back into the drawer in the kitchen. I'm not hungry anymore.
#WL#
The weather the next morning matches my mood. Freezing rain pelts my window pane with an intensity we haven't seen most of this winter and the low hanging clouds cloak the city in a grayness that doesn't look like it'll go away anytime soon.
I didn't sleep well last night, which sucks because it was my last night in my glorious bed before I'll be relegated to two weeks' worth of lumpy hotel mattresses and RV bunks. I just couldn't stop thinking about my conversation with Edward. Or maybe worrying would be a more appropriate way to describe what I was doing. The fact that he wouldn't elaborate on what 'things' he needed to think about made me think it probably had something to do with me. He would have told me otherwise – wouldn't he? And even then, why couldn't he just tell me?
A glance at my clock tells me that I've got about two hours to be at the airport, so I roll out of bed and into the bathroom where I wash my hair, dry it and put on my makeup before I take my makeup bag and blow dryer and zip them into the smaller suitcase in the living room. They were the last things on my checklist, which is still sitting on the dining table, and I check them off even though I know it's all done. I make a run around the apartment, checking the windows are locked and drawing the curtains, unplugging things that don't need to be plugged in. The last thing I grab is the trip itinerary binder and my purse. I'll have a solid seven hours of nothing to do on the plane and I've never been great at falling asleep on airplanes, so I'll be able to review the binder again and make sure I know our schedule as well as possible.
I zip up my black hoodie, raise the hood over my head and slip my black leather jacket over it. I check that my phone and passport are in the front pocket of my purse, raise the handles on my suitcases and roll them out the door. Outside, I flag down the first cab that passes. I've learned the hard way that paying for a cab is worth the money – dragging your luggage through the subway is the definition of a pain in the ass. I signal the driver to pop the trunk and heave my bags into it before slamming it closed.
"Where to ma'am?" the driver asks as I slide into the back seat.
"JFK."
He pulls into traffic and I stare out the window, watching people scurry along a little faster than normal, probably trying to get out of the rain as quickly as they can.
"Where are you off to this morning?" I look up and the cabbie is glancing at me in the rearview mirror.
Sometimes I like the chatty ones. Today is not one of those days.
"Ireland."
"You don't seem very excited." He winks at me in the mirror.
"It's for work, so it won't really be a vacation or anything," I tell him.
"Still. Just about the furthest place I ever get to go for work is the Bronx."
I laugh out loud at that. "You're right. It'll be fun. I'm just a little pre-occupied, I guess."
He doesn't say much else on the way out to Queens, just asking me when I moved to New York and if I'm liking it. He, on the other hand, was born and raised in Queens. I think people who are actually from New York have some kind of sixth sense about who's a transplant because I definitely didn't tell him I wasn't from here, and as far as I can tell, I haven't said anything glaringly obvious to give myself away.
When we pull up to departures at JFK, I pay the driver and leave him a pretty good tip and he tells me to cheer up. Easier said than done, buddy. I can't shake the sense of dread I feel waiting to hear the results of what Edward is 'thinking' about.
I'm about half-way to the sliding doors when I feel a hand grab onto my luggage handle and I panic, ready to swing around and beat them with my purse until they let go when I see that it's Emmett. He's got three messenger bags hanging off of him and is already pulling an absolutely gigantic suitcase behind him while Rose trails along with carry-on size rolling case.
"Let me carry that for you," Emmett says, prying my fingers from the handle and giving me one of his dimpled smiles.
"Emmett! I thought you were trying to steal it. I almost beat you with my purse." I reluctantly step away from the bag and readjust my hold on the smaller one.
"Don't worry about it. It wouldn't have hurt. I've got protection." He motions to the stuffed messenger bags surrounding his torso.
"I can take it myself, Emmett. You've got a ton of stuff already."
"He likes to show the other men how much he can carry," Rose jokes as she wheels her bag up next to him. "You're doing him a favor."
"Nah, baby. You guys are just too slow and we can move along much quicker if I carry it for you," he tells her. He's right – Rose and I practically run to follow after him, weaving through the heavy morning crowd to make it over to the baggage check line.
We check our bags quickly and then stop for a coffee and a bagel at a café on our way to the international terminal. We've still got almost an hour until boarding, so we take our time and look through one of the bookshops and I pick up a couple of trashy gossip magazines for the plane ride. When we get to the security check there's a bigger line than we would have expected and we slip out of our shoes, turn on our laptops and basically do the whole drill as quickly as possible. While I put my rings and necklace into a plastic bowl and send it through the x-ray, my eye catches a flash of bronze on the other side of the check-point. Edward is there, in his socks and dressed in worn blue jeans and a plain v-neck white t-shirt, arms out to the side as a female guard runs her wand around the perimeter of his lean body. I smile at the sight of him, if involuntarily, even though he looks like he's losing his patience. I see the guard motion toward his belt and he gives her a look before taking it off, causing his jeans to slip a little lower on his hips and just barely exposing the waistband of his boxer-briefs once his arms are raised again. She runs the wand around him again with an absolutely priceless look on her face – she's clearly enjoying this.
"Ma'am! Keep it moving," the guard in my line barks at me and I snap out of it, and move through the line without incident. Edward is still being frisked when Emmett comes through the line and says we should get to the gate, not to worry about Edward.
But when we get there, almost half the plane has boarded and I am worried.
"I think we should wait for him," I say as Emmett tries to coax me onto the plane. Rose has already gone down the walkway to board.
"Just get on the plane, Bella. He'll be fine. He's only a couple of minutes behind, they won't leave without him." He puts his large hand on the small of my back and tries to move me along.
"We should tell someone he's coming, don't you think? I think we should tell someone," I resist.
Emmett sighs. "I'll wait for him. Okay?"
I eye Emmett suspiciously, but hand the attendant my ticket and make my way down the gate and onto the plane. The plane has three seats on either side of the aisle and I immediately spot Jasper sitting in a window seat with two empty seats beside him. I wheel my carry-on down to his row and stop beside him, glancing at my ticket. This isn't my row, I'm considerably further back.
"Where's Alice?" I ask and he starts a bit, turning to look at me.
"Oh – she's back there with Rose," he motions toward the back of the plane. "Edward and I have some things to go over as far as principle photography and we figured the next seven hours are as good a time to do it as any. Alice offered to switch seats with him."
"Oh. Well, I guess I'll see you later then," I say. Great. Another seven hours before I'll get to talk to Edward and find out what's got him acting strangely. Although, an airplane isn't exactly the ideal place for private conversations so I suppose he might not have said anything anyway.
When I reach my assigned row, Alice is in the window seat and Rose is in the aisle seat. Awesome. I get to be in the middle. This day keeps getting better and better. I struggle to shove my carry-on in the overhead bins and finally get it in when Rose stands up to help me.
"You do realize that part of sitting in the window seat means you have to be my human pillow if I fall asleep?" I ask Alice.
"Whatever. You have to be Rose's pillow," Alice points out while I pull out my magazines and begin flipping though them.
The flight attendants begin moving down the aisles, checking to see that all of the overhead bins are closed and I stand a little in my seat to try to see if Edward and Emmett made it on, but I've lost track of their row and I'm not tall enough to see it.
"I saw them getting on while you were shoving your carry-on up there," Rose says, guessing what I'm looking for.
"Okay, good. I was worried they wouldn't make it."
"What's with you today?" Rose asks. "You're so nervous. I'd say you shouldn't have had that coffee, but you seemed a little off from the get go."
"I'm just anxious," I tell her, not elaborating.
"About what?" Alice asks. "I know you're not afraid of flying."
"Well, Edward's acting a little…different. And it's come on a little suddenly."
They exchange a look. "Different. Different, how?" Rose asks.
"Well, I saw him after I went out with Demetri, the night he got home, you know?"
They nod.
"And he was just…less happy than usual. He seemed kind of depressed, maybe. And when I invited him over for dinner last night, he said he would pass because he had some things he had to think about. He wouldn't tell me what though."
Neither of them says anything at first, and then, Alice gives the smallest, imperceptible nod to Rose, who takes a deep breath.
"Bella, I think you should know something." She looks like she's about to tell me that someone is dying and I realize I'm holding my breath in anticipation. "We know about you and Edward."
My first instinct is to play stupid. "Know what?"
"You know what I mean. We know you're sleeping together." Rose says, a look of annoyance crossing her face.
I move on to denying it, since playing stupid didn't work. "We're sleeping together? No we're not." Any good liar knows that the key to a good lie is to repeat the accusation like it's crazy and then refute it.
"Yes, you are." Rose says. "Or at least, if you're not, you guys have a really weird way of conversing."
"What?" I'm confused.
"You butt-dialed me a few months ago, Bella." Alice cuts in.
"I butt-dialed you?"
"Yeah. Remember that night that I invited you over while Jasper and Emmett went to the Yankee game?"
I nod.
"Well, Rose and I were minding our own business, sharing a glass of wine, when my phone rings and the caller ID says it's from 'Bella Swan'. But instead of a polite hello when I answer, do you know what I hear?"
I shake my head.
"Ah, Edward! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!" Rose imitates in a high, breathy tone.
I can practically feel the blood drain from the rest of my face and center in my cheeks. I know exactly the time they're talking about, I think. I'd been cleaning my apartment and had my phone shoved in the back pocket of my jeans when Edward dropped by unannounced. We fucked in the entryway, against the wall while he held me up, my thighs spread and his fingers digging into my ass.
"I don't really know what to say," I tell them.
"We're not asking you to say anything, Bella. We just thought you should know that you guys aren't as covert as you think."
"I think he's upset with me," I say, and I look down into my lap where I'm twisting my fingers around then back up to Alice, whose eye brows are furrowed together, mouth pressed into a tight line.
"Did you tell him about this date you went on?" Alice asks.
"Of course I did! I saw him right after, and he's my best friend!"
She shakes her head. "I'm going to tell you something you're not going to like. I'm doing it because I love you. You need to hear it."
I stare back at her, wondering what she's going to say.
"Bella, the problem is you're a complete and total spoiled brat. You're also delusional. And a little lazy."
Wow. Not what I expected her to say. I instantly glare at her.
"What the fuck, Alice? Why would you-"
"No, Bella," she cuts me off. "Just listen. You're spoiled because you have a guy, a really good, sweet, and if I'm being honest, fucking hot guy at your beck and call. You're used to things falling into your lap and you're not treating Edward any differently. You're delusional because it's clear that he loves you and even though you're a dumb shit for going out with Demetri and I'm probably a dumb shit for fueling that, I'd bet you probably love him too. And you're lazy because you've obviously not owned up to it, even to yourself, and done something about it. If you're confused about why he's upset after you went out with another guy, I'm questioning your intelligence."
I feel like I've just been slapped across the face. I'm not even sure where to start, so defense mode and blame displacement seems good.
"Why is this all my fault? Why don't you give him shit for not saying anything? And why didn't you tell me I should go out with Demetri?"
"I'm not your mother, Bella. You're an adult. It's not my job to babysit you. And who says I haven't given him shit?"
Oh. I guess didn't think of that.
After several minutes of silence, I finally ask, "Was this supposed to be some sort of intervention?"
Rose snorts out a laugh.
"I'm sorry it had to come out like that, Bella. I know you might be mad at me, but I had to say it," Alice tells me.
"I'm not mad at you."
She raises an eyebrow at me. "You aren't? Why not?"
"Because you're right."
And then I take a deep breath because, somehow, just saying it out loud seems to have lifted some of the pressure off of my chest.
#WL#
I wake up and look around, trying to orient myself to where I am. So much for reading the itinerary - I didn't even realize I'd fallen asleep and the cabin is pretty quiet with a lot of other people either reading or napping themselves. Rose has her headphones on and her eyes are closed, but she's not actually sleeping. Her finger is tapping slowly and silently on her armrest. Her tray is down and she's got a clear plastic cup half-filled with ice and a can of Coke. The attendant must have come around while I was sleeping.
I tap Rose on the arm and she opens her eyes to look at me.
"Can I squeeze past you?" I ask her, unbuckling my seat belt, "I have to go to the bathroom."
"Sure," she says and stands up out of her chair, stepping out of my way.
I start down the aisle, my legs feeling a little wobbly from over six hours of no use and now that I'm standing, I really have to go. The lock on the door is turned to occupied and I am about to say some really bad words when it flips to green, the door swings open, and Edward is standing right in front of me.
"Oh, Bella," he glances around him like he's making sure no one is eavesdropping on us. He looks almost sheepish. "I…well, I – we need to talk."
Something in his tone tells me it's now or never. But I'm seriously about to pee my pants.
"Edward, get in here," I tell him, pulling him into the cramped space and against me until we get the door shut and the lock turned. "I know this is weird, but I have to pee. Close your eyes."
He does as I say and I hurry up and finish then wash my hands.
"Better?" he asks with a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Yeah. We need to talk."
"I know. I already said that. I didn't really mean here though. I was thinking after we landed."
"So you were just warning me? I don't want to wait anymore."
He grimaces and shrugs one shoulder while I crane my neck to look him in the eyes. The sadness from the other night is there.
"Edward, we were fine a few days ago and now we're…I don't know. Not fine. I'm scared you're going to tell me something bad."
"Bella, this isn't working."
Well, that's definitely bad.
"Why don't you call me Blackbird anymore?" my voice waivers. I'm surprised to feel my eyes getting a little wet, my vision getting a little blurry. I'm not a crier. I blink quickly to try to make it stop. It isn't working.
"Because if this is all we're going to be, I need to separate myself a little. I can't be that guy that's just around waiting around all the time for you."
"Waiting around for me? Look, I'm sorry I went out with Demetri. I won't go again, if that's what you want. But, you go out too." I'm angry that he'd insinuate that I just use him like that. This whole thing started because of its mutual benefits.
"No, I don't."
"Yes you do. What about that blonde Rose set you up with last week?"
"You were there, Bella. How can it be a date if you were there? I haven't gone on a single date for over eight months."
I take a moment to think back and I realize he's right. I can't think of a single time he's spent the night with anyone except me or gone out when I wasn't right there in the same bar. Sure, he's flirted. But so have I.
"Why? You've had plenty of opportunities. Why?" I know I'm pushing, but I want him to say it. I need to hear it.
"Because I didn't want to, Bella." He reaches out and tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear.
"Why?"
He sighs.
"What do you want, Edward? Tell me and I'll give it to you. I'll give you anything. Just tell me." There's a touch of hysteria to my voice. Even I can hear it.
"Don't make promises you can't keep, Blackbird," he says softly.
My heart flutters at the name.
"Try me."
"I want it to be just you and me."
I don't need to ask him 'why'. I know exactly what he means. "I want that, too."
The dimpled grin creeps onto his face. He brings his hand up and weaves it into the back of my hair and leans down to bring his lips against my own. They're soft and warm he runs the tip of his tongue along my bottom lip until I reciprocate and open up to him. At this moment, I don't think I've tasted or felt anything better than Edward Cullen's lips. I bring my hands to the side of his face, cupping my fingers around his ears and pulling him toward me and against me as though I were trying to fuse myself to him for all of eternity.
That dream I've been having all this time? It's got nothing on reality.
So Alice finally serves Bella with a come-to-Jesus moment. Finally.
Ireland's up next.
See you next time!
LA