Author's Note:
Thank you to everyone who has added this story as a fav/alert already, and for those kind reviews. This is my first attempt at creative writing so it's very encouraging.
I am a Project Team Beta Author! Special thanks to my PTB Beta on this chapter: StoryPainter. And my permanent Beta's Jennrosee and blahblahblah. Y'all are amazing!
Disclaimer:
S. Meyer owns Twilight. While I borrowed several obvious quotes from her books, no plagiarism is intended.
EPOV
For the past two hours I have been watching Jazz scour the inventory of guitar accessories at the music store downtown. Honestly, he doesn't need a damn thing; it's just an excuse to ogle the shop girl, again. If Jasper doesn't grow some balls and ask that little dark-haired hippie girl out soon, he was gonna end up broke from all of these shopping trips.
I watch Jazz as he pulls another book of sheet music from the rack and pretends to read the back cover, all the while casting quick glances at the girl behind the counter. She's staring, fucking goo-goo eyed, right back at him. I roll my eyes and notice it's starting to get dark outside the shop windows.
"What time is it?" I mumble.
"Time for you to get a watch, rich boy."
I roll my eyes again. "Original, Jazz. Seriously what time is it?"
Jazz finally glances at the watch on his wrist. "Quarter to seven."
"Shit." I toss the magazine I had been flipping through mindlessly back onto the rack, not giving any thought to returning it to its proper place. "We gotta go."
"Hot date?" Jasper teases.
"I was supposed to be home before six. That chick moved in today and Esme planned a fucking meet-the-family dinner."
"Ah yes," Jazz muses, "still trying to be the golden boy for mommy and daddy dearest, I see."
Jazz doesn't understand why I am inflicting myself with this punishment. I tried to explain it to him once; why I quit ditching school, why I came home around my curfew, why I felt guilty about the way I treated my adopted parents, but he doesn't get it. He doesn't try to talk me out of it; he just can't relate to it.
"Fuck you," I grumble. "Can we go?"
"Yeah, yeah. Don't get your panties in a twist. Just let me pay for this shit." Jazz turns and happily trots off toward his dream girl to buy the sheet music in his hands.
I pull my phone from my pocket and notice a missed text from Emmett.
Where are you asshole? ~ Em
I type out a quick reply and hit send.
I'm on my way now. ~ E
Shit, I screwed up… again.
Ten minutes later, Jazz pulls his Jeep up in front of my house. "Thanks man," I yell as I jump down from the open side of the cab. During the warm summer months, Jazz keeps the top and doors to his Jeep stored in the garage at his house. It's usually comfortable, riding with the top off, but the rain today has caused the temperature drop and I am fucking freezing.
As I make my way quickly up the front steps, I hear Jazz floor the accelerator and his all terrain tires spinout, tossing gravel from the driveway across the yard. I stop on the porch and attempt to tame my windblown hair before opening the door to the house.
No one sees me enter. The entire family is here, seated around the large dining table. Carlisle is at the head with Esme at his right side. Rosalie is sitting next to her and Emmett takes up the spot at the other end of the table. There is an empty chair, obviously meant for me, and a tiny figure sits between it and Carlisle. Her back is to me and all I can make out is a mass of long, brown curls falling down over her shoulders. Empty plates of food are strewn about the table, as if they finished dinner some time ago, yet they continue to linger around the table deep in conversation.
A very humorous conversation, apparently. A roar of laughter erupts and Emmett begins choking on the sip of water he just took from his glass.
"Edward!" Esme cries out, finally noticing my presence. "Glad you decided to join us. Come, meet Bella!"
"Sorry I'm late," I mumble as I make my way to the empty seat and place my hands on the back of the chair. I keep my eyes on Esme to avoid the angry glare I know Carlisle is giving me.
"Edward," Esme starts again, "this is Bella. Bella, meet Edward."
Bella turns in her seat toward where I'm standing and looks up from below her lashes. She is actually rather pretty. More than simply beautiful, her face was interesting. Not quite symmetrical – her narrow chin is out of balance with her wide cheekbones; extreme in the coloring – the light and dark contrast of her ivory skin and her hair; and then there were her eyes, eyes that are boring into mine. Brown. Warm, chocolate-brown eyes.
"I… ah…" I crush my eyes shut and lightly shake my head to clear my mind. Bad idea, all I see is brown. "Hello," I manage to spit out. Real smooth, genius.
"Ah… hi. It's nice to meet you," she says in a small voice, shooting me a timid glance.
"Sit, sit!" Esme commands. "Let me get you a plate."
I do as I'm told, pulling out the chair and taking my seat next to Bella. I keep my eyes down, focusing on the swirls and patterns of the wood table in front of me. The room has grown completely silent. I know what everyone is waiting for.
Before the accident, Carlisle would have started shouting at me the second I walked through the door. The two of us are notorious for having hour long fights right here in the living room. We yell and scream at each other with no regard to who is watching. It always starts with him scolding me for a full twenty minutes on whatever current offense of mine. Then it somehow morphs into a lecture on my overall behavior, my grades, and my choice of friends. He makes the same cliché arguments: "What the hell were you thinking?", "Can't you see you're destroying your future?", "Do I need to send you to military school?" His threats have gotten almost humorous. The argument ends when I tell him to go fuck himself, and he grounds me, and I laugh and completely ignore his pathetic attempt at discipline. Then the cycle repeats itself.
It has been almost six months since our last knock-down, drag-out fight. I'm sure everyone at the table senses we are long overdue, but my good behavior lately hasn't given Carlisle any ammunition. Besides being late tonight, my only offense has been getting drunk at the concert with Jazz last week. I suspect, since Carlisle has never said anything about that night, he doesn't realize I even left the house.
Nevertheless, I hope tonight Carlisle will just choose to ignore my being late. He wouldn't want to make a scene in front of our new guest, right?
Nope, no such luck.
"Where have you been?" Carlisle addresses me, his angry voice stern and cold.
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Lord, here we go again. He can't give me an inch can he? Is he ever gonna let this shit go?
Did he notice that I was early for my meeting with my probation officer yesterday? No. Did he notice that my room was now spotless? No. Did he notice I had been home before curfew every night this week? No. All he sees is that I'm late for this stupid dinner.
I take a deep breath, attempting to keep my temper in check. Six months of good behavior going unnoticed is starting to get on my nerves. I would really love to tell Carlisle to fuck off for old times' sake, but that wouldn't help me gain his forgiveness. It likely wouldn't make a good impression on our guest either.
"I was with Jazz, at the store, we lost track of time. Sorry."
My tone is far from apologetic and Carlisle narrows his eyes at me.
"You know how I feel about you spending time with him," Carlisle says firmly.
I stare angrily at him, not saying a word. Carlisle and Esme have repeatedly expressed their displeasure over my continued friendship with Jasper after the accident. They rightly assume he supplied me with the drugs that almost killed me, though I neither confirmed nor denied it. Although my parents know I haven't touched the stuff since that night, they probably think Jazz is still using. He's not. The accident has us both scared straight. Regardless of what they think, this is one area where I am not going to budge. Jasper is my friend, my only friend, and even though it displeases Carlisle and Esme, I am going to continue to be friends with him.
"We'll talk about this later," Carlisle grumbles through clenched teeth.
No we won't.
"So, anyway," Rose dives right back into a story my arrival must have interrupted, "her husband died! While on their honeymoon! And all the girl could talk about was how the concierge wouldn't refund their drink tickets!"
The awkwardness that lingers because of the exchange between Carlisle and I is broken when everyone erupts into another fit of laughter. Everyone, except me and Carlisle.
Esme returns from the kitchen and sets a plate in front of me. It's overflowing with spaghetti, homemade meatballs, and warm garlic bread. I feel Esme squeeze my shoulder as she sets the plate down and I look up. She gives me an encouraging smile, likely knowing that Carlisle's harsh tone has unnerved me. I quietly thank her for my dinner and begin to shovel food into my mouth while the conversation continues around me as if I'm not even there.
"So, Bella, do you have everything you need for school this week?" Esme asks as she returns to her seat.
"Hold up," Emmett interrupts. "Twinkle-toes here starts school this week? That sucks."
"Emmett! Watch your mouth!" Esme scolds.
He rolls his eyes. "Sorry. I mean, that stinks."
Bella giggles quietly. "Well, official classes don't start until Wednesday. But I have to meet with my advisor on Monday then I'm supposed to work with my pas de deux partner on Tuesday. He's going to help me get caught up on what I missed during the summer session."
Emmet snorts, trying to contain a laugh. "Your pad-dah-what?"
"It's pronounced pah-day-duh," Bella annunciates each syllable. "It's a duet, when two dancers perform together. Everyone is assigned their pas de deux partner at the beginning of the year. Well, most partnerships are assigned at the start of freshman year and they remain partners for all four years. My partner, Jacob, was paired with a girl that quit the program at the end of last year."
"Oh, so you met him already?" Rosalie asks.
"No, well… I mean, not in person. We emailed back and forth this summer and talked on the phone a few times." Bella shrugs. "He seems really nice."
"Well that's lovely, dear." Esme says. "I'm so glad that you'll have a friend with you on your first day."
"Yeah, I guess so. So, what about you guys?" Bella turns back to Emmett, "When do you go back?"
Emmett leans back in his chair with a smug face. "Not for another two weeks," he states proudly.
"Maybe this week won't be so bad," Rosalie offers. "The first few days of classes are pointless anyway."
"Yeah, well, I'm kinda behind already since I didn't to go the summer workshops. I'll probably be in the rehearsal studio at school trying to catch up most of the week. Actually, now that I think about it, I might be out kinda late. I hope that's OK? " Bella hesitantly turns toward Carlisle. "I don't know… I mean… we didn't discuss curfews or anything like that."
This girl is asking for a curfew? I scoff internally. I remember when Carlisle tried to dictate that rule. I laughed in his face when he told me I had to be home by eleven on school nights and two a.m. on weekends. Even now, I still find it hard to abide by those ridiculous deadlines. I wonder what kind of iron fist Bella must have lived under as the daughter of the police chief if she was basically asking for a curfew. As far as I could tell, she didn't look like the kind of girl that even went out. I picture her skipping home promptly after some lame PG-13 chick flick had let out, leaving some poor sucker standing on her front porch with only a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Why don't you just practice here?" I suggest.
Five pairs of eyes turn to stare at me. I realize these are the first words I've spoken since I sat down over half an hour ago.
"Wha- what do you mean practice here?" Bella looks confused as Esme bursts into a fit of laughter.
"I can't believe it!" She exclaims. "We worked so hard on that room all week and I completely forgot to even mention it."
"What… room?" Bella is glancing back and forth between Esme and me. I gesture for Esme to do the honors as I shovel the last bite of my dinner into my mouth.
"The spare bedroom, the one between yours and Edward's upstairs. We converted it into a private dance space for you. It should have everything you need to practice right here at home. And, of course, Jacob will be welcome to use it as well."
Bella is silent for several minutes. "Are… are you serious? You can't… I mean… that's just… it's too much… I can't possibly…" Honestly, she looks as if she's about to cry.
"Oh, sweetheart, it was nothing." Esme reaches across the table and gently pats Bella hand. "I couldn't stand the thought of you driving back and forth at all hours of the night when we had a perfectly good space right here."
"Bu- but I…" she stammers.
"No, no. Not another word about it." Esme turns to me. "Edward, why don't you take Bella upstairs and show her the new studio while I clear the table."
Me? Why me?
Bella looks back to me and her eyes widen. She looks almost bewildered, seemingly full of silent questions. I suddenly feel the overwhelming need to take away the anxiety she's feeling so I offer her what I hope is a reassuring smile.
"Sure." I stand and reach my hand out to her. She places her small hand in mine and, without thinking, I trace my thumb across the back of her soft fingers. She rises gracefully from her seat; the movement bringing her body directly in front of mine. She's shorter than me; obviously, at six foot two inches I tower over most people, but the top of her head barely reaches my chin. Now that she's standing, I can see her entire frame more clearly. She's so… delicate. She couldn't weigh more than one-ten, one-fifteen tops. She has the erect posture of a dancer; her head held high, her shoulders back, her arms and legs long and lean.
"Um…" Bella looks down at our entwined hands.
I quickly drop her hand and take a small step back. "Er… this way," I mumble, before turning quickly and taking the steps to the second floor two at a time.
BPOV
I watch as Edward bounds up the stairs as if he can't get away from me fast enough. I can't blame him; that was… weird. I mean, it was rude of him to show up an hour late for dinner and then barely speaks to anyone for the entire time. And that moment between him and Carlisle was uncomfortable. I thought for a second that Carlisle was going to send him to his room without his dinner like he is some disobedient child. That's what Charlie would have done if I had shown up an hour late.
Not that I was paying attention to Edward. Well, I was trying really hard not to, but he is just so… freaking hot. He's way better looking than any of the guys I dated in Phoenix. He has the most stunning green eyes. His bronze hair is in complete disarray, probably because he runs his hands through it every two minutes. Must be a nervous tick.
Ok, maybe I paid him more attention than I should have.
Edward reaches the top of the stairs and hurries past my room toward the second door on the right. He opens the door and, without entering, reaches inside to flick on the lights. He turns around and nearly runs straight into me. His body is so close to mine, almost too close, just like before at the table. I can feel my cheeks flame red. Hopefully, he doesn't notice.
"After you." He steps back and gestures toward the open door.
I gingerly walk through the door and to the center of the large, vacant room. The floors are wood, just like the rest of the house, except these are stained a rich golden-yellow. The entire left wall is covered in mirrors and a professional grade warm-up barre is centered in front of them. I reach out and run my hand along the cold steel. It's nicer than the ones we had at the studio in Phoenix.
I can't believe they did this for me. No one has ever given me such a thoughtful gift before. I had no idea such generous people existed. The Cullens have single handedly ensured my entire future by taking me in. Charlie was never going to let me move to Seattle alone, scholarship or not. The Cullens opened their home to me, disrupted their lives for me, and now this – my very own studio. It is just too much. For the second time today, I can feel my throat tighten and my eyes begin to water with tears that threaten to spill over.
Edward clears his throat behind me. I have completely forgotten he is watching me from the doorway. My looming emotional breakdown must be making him uncomfortable; his hand is back tugging at his hair again.
"Uh… there's a stereo system over here with a CD player and hookup for an iPod." He walks over to a large, expensive piece of equipment in the corner.
"The speakers are there, and there," He points to the small black boxes mounted in the opposite corners. "You can play your music as loud as you want. The walls in here are pretty thick."
I nod, still not trusting my voice.
"Um, the lights are on a dimmer switch on the wall over there, and, well, I guess that's it."
"What's that?" I gesture to a large object covered in a white sheet.
"Oh, um… a piano." Edward shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets. The forceful movement causes his t-shirt to rise and the waist of his worn-out jeans to dip at the same moment, exposing the top of his black boxer briefs and the creamy skin of his stomach. For a second, I'm completely distracted, staring at his lean physique. He looks away and down at his feet. I sense there's more to this piano than he's letting on.
"Do you play?" I ask.
"Not anymore." His voice is so low I almost don't hear him. He stares at his feet for a second before shaking his head. "Well, good night." And with that he's gone, out the door before I can process what has just happened.
"Good night," I mutter to no one.
On Sunday I'm not sure what to do with myself. I still feel like I'm overstaying my welcome in a stranger's house. I have breakfast with Esme before she leaves to run some errands. She invites me to tag along, but I decline, saying that I need to unpack and get settled in before orientation tomorrow.
I make my way back upstairs and start to unpack. I hang my street clothes in the massive walk-in closet, leaving the dresser drawers to hold all of my leotards, tights, sweatpants and sports bras. I place the few pictures I brought across the top; me and Renee at Disney, me and Charlie fishing, a group photo of my friends from the studio in Phoenix, and my favorite – a family photo of Renee, Charlie and me. I was an infant at the time, but it's the only picture of the three of us together.
I place my laptop on the desk, noticing it's already stocked with pens, pencils, a ruler, a calculator, and several spiral bound notebooks. A giant bulletin board hangs on the wall above the desk and I take a moment to pin up my calendar and the post card I received from Renee just before I left Phoenix. The board still looks empty, so I rip a few glossy photos from my latest issue of American Dance Magazine and add them to the collage.
Next, I take my toiletries to the bathroom across the hall and find one side of the vanity, a shelf and a drawer have been cleared for my stuff. I place my shampoo, conditioner, and soap in the shower next to Edward's. I can't help but open and smell his shampoo. Yum… almond and vanilla. I inhale the rich, creamy scent again before shutting the cap and returning it to the ledge.
An hour later I finally finish unpacking and putting everything away, and now I have an entire day ahead of me with nothing to do. I consider calling Jacob to see if he wants to meet me, but then I figure I should give the guy his last few days of space, seeing as how we are going to be together all day, every day for the next year. Emmett and Edward seem to still be asleep, as neither has emerged from their bedrooms, and Carlisle left for the hospital before dawn.
I guess there is no time like the present to try out my new studio. I change into my black yoga pants, black tank top and my favorite oversized gray sweatshirt. I ripped the neck on it years ago and now it hangs down, exposing one shoulder. I feel like I'm channeling Jennifer Beals from Flashdance when I wear it. All I'm missing is a welding torch and some rocking legwarmers. I grab my iPod and tiptoe to my door. I open it only a crack to peek down the hall. All clear.
Wait, what am I doing? Why am I sneaking around like I'm going to get caught?
I take a deep breath, stand up straight and walk to the room next door. I fumble with the sound system for a few minutes before I get the hang of it. Soon, I'm sweating through my favorite routines. I don't really practice anything relevant, just goof around, letting my iPod shuffle through the Dance My Ass Off playlist.
I dance for two hours, thoroughly enjoying having my own private space to work in. I finish up with a long cool down, stretching my tired arms and legs before heading across the hall for a quick shower. Having completely exhausted everything to do in the house, I throw on some clothes and decide to go for a walk. The weather is nice today and I remember seeing a small shopping center a few blocks from the entrance of the neighborhood when Carlisle and Esme drove me here from the airport. It seems like a nice place to spend a Sunday afternoon.
EPOV
I sleep until eleven o'clock Sunday morning. I have got to get back on a normal sleep schedule before school starts next week. Otherwise, waking up at seven a.m. is going to be painful.
I probably would have slept a lot longer if it weren't for the music coming from the room next door. Bella must have decided to take her studio for a test drive. Her choice in music surprises me. Granted, there's a lot more techno and pop than I want to hear, but I do recognize a few of my favorite alternative bands thrown in the mix. It's well after noon before she finally gives it a rest. I listen as the shower cuts on across the hall and then off again several minutes later.
I rub my face, yawn and stretch. I need to get out of this room, out of this house.
I retrieve my jeans from the floor, the pockets still stuffed with my phone, keys and wallet from the day before. I throw on a clean t-shirt and a pair of flip flops. I consider sending Jazz a text, see if he wants to hang out, but he's probably still asleep.
I head downstairs, casting a quick glance in Bella's room as I walk past. Her door is open but the room is dark and empty. I bypass the kitchen and walk straight to my car; I figure I'll eat eventually.
I decide to head to the bookstore around the corner to see if anything new has come in since my last visit a few weeks ago. I frequent this store so often the owner knows me and often holds titles he thinks I'll be interested in behind the counter. But today the shop is under the care of the owner's only son, Tyler. He's a nice enough kid; we had a few classes together at school last year, but we don't exactly run with the same crowd. I wouldn't call him a friend but, here in the confines of his father's store, our mutual love of books makes us more than just casual acquaintances.
A small bell above the door chimes as I walk inside. "Hey, man, what's up?" Tyler greets me as I walk into the store.
"Tyler," I respond, noticing he's not even looking in my direction. His eyes are fixed on something going on behind the shelves. He is blatantly bending and stretching from his perch behind the counter, trying to get a better view. I ignore him, deciding to browse the new releases on the far wall.
I prefer stories with drama and suspense, and there are a few new titles that grab my attention. I select two books from the shelf and slouch into one of the overstuffed leather chairs in the corner to skim the first few pages and see if they are any good.
I only read about five pages, distracted by Tyler's constant squirming at his post, which I can see out of corner of my eye. I look up to glare at him and then follow his line of sight to see what is so fucking interesting.
Down the aisle in front of me, I see a small brunette girl browsing through the classical literature section. Her back is to us and she is mindlessly swaying back and forth as she stands before the bookcase towering over her. Her gentle movements cause her airy white skirt to swing from side to side like a bell. She twists her body slightly and I can see a thin white cord extending from inside the purse she has slung across her chest and disappearing under her curly hair. She must be listening to an iPod buried deep in her bag.
I can see why Tyler is so intrigued. She is fascinating to watch. I find I can't take my eyes from her either. From my seat I have an unobstructed view, and I overtly stare as she gently runs her fingers across the titles on the shelf. She tilts her head to read the spine of a book and I instantly recognize her profile.
Bella.
I should probably go over and say hello. It would be the polite thing to do. But I don't move from my seat. I continue to watch her as she shops, selecting one book at a time from the shelf, flipping it over and reading the back cover only to place it back on the shelf a moment later. Cradled in her other arm she already holds two more books. I strain my eyes to make out the titles, but the way she's hugging them, so close to her chest, I'm not able to see.
She turns again to face the bookcase on the back wall and reaches up for a book on the top shelf, just out of her grasp. She tries again, rising up as high as she can on her toes, but she is still unable to make contact with the object she desires. It is clear Tyler isn't going to make a move to assist her. I realize he is likely enjoying the way her attempts to reach the top shelf cause her skirt to rise up, exposing more and more of the back of her thigh for his viewing pleasure.
I groan and reluctantly hoist myself up from my seat. I walk up directly behind her, my chest almost pressing against her back as I reach up, tipping the spine of the book backwards so it easily falls into her waiting hand.
"Thank y-" she starts to say as she turns to face me. She is still up on her toes and the quick movement causes her to bump against my chest and stumble. I reach out and catch her around the waist before she completely topples backward. Instinctively I pull her to me to compensate for the momentum, tugging her in the opposite direction. I catch a whiff of her scent and for a moment I'm confused; she smells like me.
The whole ordeal only lasts a fraction of a second, and as soon as Bella catches her balance, I release her and step back. She finally looks up to see who has put their hands all over her and recognition dawns on her face as she realizes it's me.
"Oh… hi," she says and, just like last night, a soft, pink blush spreads across her cheeks. She must be embarrassed about almost knocking us both to the ground. She pulls the headphones from her ears and tucks them away inside her purse.
"Hey," I respond.
She smiles, her expression still shy. "What are you doing here?"
I hold up the books in my hand, waving them slightly as if to silently state the obvious.
"Oh… right... of course." She nervously pushes her hair behind her ear and stares down at the floor. The movement reminds me…
"Did you use my shampoo?" I ask, my tone is harsher than I intended.
Bella's eyes grow wide as her face turns a bright crimson. "I ah, I forgot mine in my room, and I was already in the shower. I'm sorry. I'll replace what I used." She stares down at the floor again.
I instantly feel guilty. I realize I'm not being very welcoming to my new roommate. I imagine it must be hard for her, leaving her family and friends behind and moving in with people she doesn't know. I could relate to that. Granted, I was only a child when it happened to me, but I have some idea of how she must be feeling – alone, out of place, maybe a little scared. And here I am, being an asshole over something as stupid as shampoo.
I sigh. "I'm sorry, that's not what I meant. Of course you're welcome to anything you need."
We stand in awkward silence for a moment before she speaks, "Well, ah, thanks for your help with the, um, the book. I guess I'll see you back at the house." She turns and heads to the front of the store where Tyler, I'm sure, has been anxiously watching our little exchange.
She places her books on the counter and begins digging through her purse for her money. I walk up behind her again, setting my books down, and wait as Tyler rings up her purchases. I want to say something to clear the uncomfortable tension that seems to be growing between us. I felt it the night before when I showed her to her dance studio, and it seems to be lingering. It was like a barrier is being drawn between us. I don't know why, but I hate it. I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out.
She pays for her books and takes the bag from Tyler, who enthusiastically invites her to come back again soon. As she gathers up her things, she casts a quick glance over her shoulder and smiles at me, but it doesn't reach her eyes. She turns away and thanks Tyler one more time before she leaves the store.
The second the door closes behind her, Tyler lets out a ragged breath. "Damn, that girl is fine."
I glare at him and fight back the overwhelming urge to slam his head into the counter he is leaning against, still straining to get the last look as Bella disappears out of sight of the shop windows.
Why do I suddenly feel so possessive of her?
"Oooweee, where did she come from?" he asks rhetorically.
"Phoenix," I mumble.
His head snaps back toward me. "You know her?"
"She's staying with us for the next year while she goes to some private dance school."
"Damn. You are one lucky son of a bitch," he says, shaking his head. "You know if she's got a boyfriend back home?"
I realize that I don't know her at all – but I want to. I want to understand why someone would willingly give up their family. How someone my age could already have a clear picture of the life and career they want. How someone can be so passionate about that goal that they are able to walk away from the life they have always known. This girl is a complete mystery to me. I don't know why, but the desire to know more about her, to understand her, suddenly burns inside me.
My feet begin to move before I even register the motion. "Tyler, hold those for me, will ya?" I call out as I push the shop door open and head in the direction I saw Bella walk. I spot her instantly, pausing a few stores down, and fiddling with her iPod, the ear-buds securely back in her ears.
I jog quickly to catch up to her. This time she sees me approach and removes one headphone as I begin to speak. "There's a café just over there. Would you like to have lunch with me?"
She blinks a few times and, for a moment, I wonder if she heard what I've said. "Yeah… yes. That would be nice. Thank you."
We make our way to the bright orange and green umbrellas lining the sidewalk café and find an open table on the patio. The metal table is designed to seat four, and Bella takes the seat directly across from me, dropping her purse and the bag that contain her books in the empty chair next to her. A waitress immediately approaches with two laminated menus and disappears again once she has our drink order; a coke for me, an iced tea for Bella.
I don't need to read over the menu; I always order the same thing every time I come here. So I place my menu on the table and watch Bella as she studies her copy.
"Their chicken sandwich is pretty good," I offer, trying to break the silence. "And Emmett loves their hamburgers."
She doesn't look up from her menu. "Hm… it all sounds good. I'm starving after my work out this morning."
"Yeah, I'm sure," I mumble.
Bella drops her menu and finally looks at me. "Did I wake you? Oh God, I did. I'm sorry, the music was too loud wasn't it? I'm sorry. I didn't think –"
I hold my hands up, hoping to stop her high-speed ramble. "Bella, Bella, it's fine. I'm actually glad you woke me up. I need to get used to waking up at a normal time anyway before school starts again. So… thank you."
She looks at me skeptically, like she isn't buying it. She picks up her menu again and continues to read over the selections. The waitress returns with our drinks and Bella orders the sandwich I recommended. I order the same and the waitress leaves us alone again.
Another awkward silence stretches between us. I want to know more about the girl sitting across from me, but I feel like launching into a round of twenty questions might be rude. I decide to try another avenue.
"May I?" I ask, pointing to the bag in the chair containing the three books she had just purchased. She nods as she sips her iced tea and I lift the noisy plastic bag into my lap. I remove her new novels, calling out the titles as I flip through them, "Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, and Mansfield Park." I raise an eyebrow to her. "Big Austen fan I take it?"
That makes her smile. "I left my copies at home. I didn't think I'd miss them, but I felt kinda… I dunno, out of place without them."
I nod. "I get it. I'd be pretty lost without my copy of Emma close by."
She chuckles at my sarcastic tone. "What about you? What did you get?"
I shrug, "Tyler is holding them for me."
"Tyler?"
"The guy in the bookstore. He goes to my school. His dad owns the shop," I explain.
"Oh."
I see an opportunity opening up so I decide to take it. "You seem to have left quite an impression on him."
She looks alarmed. "Me?"
I chuckle. "Yeah, I think he's got a little crush. He asked me if you had a boyfriend back home."
She rolls her eyes. "Yeah right, overachieving, dance obsessed, only daughter of the police chief, not quite the hot commodity where I'm from."
"Let me guess, your dates would pick you up and he'd answer the door with a loaded shotgun?"
"Yeah, something like that."
The waitress returns, delivering our food and refilling our drinks. The conversation slows down while we eat.
"You must miss him, your dad. It can't be easy leaving home."
She shrugs. "Don't get me wrong, I do miss him, but Charlie was always a bit… overprotective. The older I got the more we started butting heads about what he thought was good for me. I think it was the right time for us to take a little break."
I remember Carlisle's words from the week before, "He tends to err on the side of caution when it comes to his only child." Maybe her father is a bit more domineering than Carlisle realizes. I can sympathize with the difficulty of living with an overbearing father figure.
"So it doesn't bother you, being so far away from home?" I clarify.
"Well, I never really considered Phoenix my home. I was shuffled back and forth so much after my parents divorced that I never formed an attachment to one place or the other. It wasn't until I was fourteen that I moved in with Charlie permanently."
"Why did you decide to stay with him and not your mom?"
"When my mom remarried, her husband's job called for a lot of travel. She stayed with me at first, but it made her unhappy. So I decided to go live with my dad for a few years and she went on the road with Phil. They actually bought a house in Florida last year, but I stayed with Charlie. It just worked out best for everyone."
I'm not so sure I believe her. It may have worked out best for her parents, but what about her? It isn't right for a child not to have a place to call home.
"That doesn't seem fair." I shrug, trying to seem casual.
She laughs, but it doesn't sound genuine. "Hasn't anyone told you? Life isn't fair."
I wanted to laugh at her words too. I knew a little something about the unfairness of life. "I believe I've heard that somewhere before."
"I think that's why I gravitated to dance so much; it was the one constant in my life, no matter where I was. That became home to me. Not where my parents live."
I had never met someone so… selfless. If that had been me, and my parents had shuffled me around because I became a burden to them, I would have made their lives a living hell. Who am I kidding; I am making my parents lives hell and they only moved me once.
I take another bite of my sandwich as I consider my next statement carefully. "You put on a good show. But I'd be willing to bet that you suffered more than you let anyone see."
She narrows her eyes at me and, for a second, I worry she realizes I'm speaking from experience, but then she recovers with a shrug. "Maybe I used to, but not anymore. I think of it this way – all that stuff led me to where I am today. Granted, I'm going to have to work my butt off for the next year, but it will all be worth it. All I've ever wanted was to be a dancer."
I nod and take another bite of my food. Bella seems wise beyond her age. She is resiliently independent. She seems to have it all figured out, what she wants in life and exactly how she's going to get it. She's not angry about the way her parents raised her, she's actually thankful for it. I wanted to know more about her mother, her life before she came here, her relationship with her father; all the meaningless details that could explain how she was so accepting of her disheveled upbringing. Maybe I could even learn a thing or two.
"What about you?" she asks before I can form my next question.
"What about me?" I hedge.
"What do you want to do? You know, when you grow up?"
"I hadn't thought about it." That's a lie. I know all too well that my future is going to be an uphill battle. During our heated exchanges, Carlisle repeatedly tells me I am setting myself up for failure. The accident and my subsequent probation put the proverbial nail in that coffin.
She presses on, "What about after graduation? Do you want to go to college?" I don't want to tell her the truth, that with my criminal record no reputable school will touch me, no matter how badly I want to go. So I just shrug my shoulders and take another bite.
The waitress approaches the table again, thankfully, interrupting a conversation that now seems to be focused on me. "Can I bring you guys anything else?" she asks.
I look to Bella and she shakes her head. "No, just the check please," I say.
"Sure, is this together or separate?" the waitress asks.
We both answer at the same time. "Together," I say. "Separate," Bella calls out.
I catch the waitress' eye. "Together," I state firmly and she leaves to prepare the ticket.
"Edward, you don't have to –"
I hold up my hand. "I'm the one that asked you out to lunch, remember?"
She smiles sweetly. "Thank you, Edward."
I pay the check and we make our way out of the café. We walk slowly along the storefronts back toward the bookstore and, subsequently, where I have left my car. Something dawns on me at that moment.
"Bella, how did you get here?"
"I walked," she responds casually, her eyes never leaving the shop window we pass.
"From the house?" I ask, astonished.
"Of course, it's not that far."
"It's four miles, each way."
She giggles. "No wonder I was so hungry."
I roll my eyes at her. "Come on, I'll drive you home."
When we arrive at the house, Bella thanks me again for lunch and disappears into her room. She stays in there the rest of the afternoon, only coming out to eat dinner with Carlisle, Esme and Emmett. I opt to stay in my room, attempting to lose myself in another book. I usually never eat with the "family" anyway. It makes it easier on everyone not having to deal with the tension that rolls off Carlisle and at me in waves. Instead, I usually pick through the leftovers in the middle of the night.
I can't make myself focus on the words on the page in front of me, my mind continues to wander back to my conversation with Bella during lunch. How can she be so accepting of the unfair way her parents rearranged her life as it was convenient for them? How is she brave enough to leave her family, however dysfunctional, to pursue a career at only seventeen?
It also didn't escape my thoughts that if I had met someone like her instead of Jazz, my life might have turned out differently.
I give up on the chapter I'm reading and close the book, noticing the house has grown quiet. I glance over at my clock. Shit, it's one in the morning, so much for adjusting my sleep schedule.
I need a shower.
I roll off the bed, pull my shirt over my head and throw it on the floor. I start to unbutton the fly of my jeans as I head down the hall toward the bathroom. With my free hand I reach for the door knob but the handle swings back, out of my grasp before I can touch it.
"SHIT!" Bella screams, her hand flying to cover her heart. "Oh my God, Edward, you scared the crap out of me!"
I'm just as startled by her sudden appearance and, for a moment, I'm trying to process what the hell she's doing here. Then my wide eyes rake over her body - her very, very wet body. Her hair is matted to her head and small beads of water are dripping down her chest, disappearing under the towel wrapped around her body. Heat from the bathroom air pours out into the hall, and I'm assaulted by the smell of her clean, fresh skin. In the back of my mind, I'm a little disappointed she hasn't used my shampoo again.
"I'm sorry," I say. "I thought you were in bed."
I couldn't help but notice that her eyes trace up and down my bare chest. "Oh… I, um… I couldn't sleep. I thought… bath… um… a bath would help me relax."
I smirk. Bella is clearly flustered and her cheeks are turning that delicious shade of pink again. I'm not sure if she's embarrassed by her state of undress or mine. I can't understand why; she's more covered by that towel than what most girls wear to school during the warmer months. Granted, those girls are just vying for attention in their tiny skirts and tight shirts. And on some level it works. But, compared to Bella, those girls seem insignificant, petty and trivial.
"Well… I ah…" Bella starts again. I realize while I'm openly ogling her exposed flesh, I'm also blocking the path to her room – her escape from what she must perceive as an uncomfortable situation.
"Oh, right." I step aside and she slips past me, her glorious scent wafting off her wet skin as she tiptoes toward her room.
I can't help myself. "Bella?" I call, and she turns toward me, one hand on her doorknob. I make no effort to disguise that I am, once again, gawking at her scantily clad body. I smirk at her. "Good night." I duck into the bathroom.
I take a long, cold shower.
Author's Note:
Thanks for reading! I plan on posting a new chapter each weekend (as real life allows). I have the entire story written (rough draft, of course) so you can expect this fic to be completed.
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