Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer.
There IS a method to this craziness/madness, I promise. It's gonna get crazier before it settles down, though. ;)
When I hang up with Rose, I get up, go into the living room, and log onto my laptop. I bring up Google and start typing away. Rose was not lying (not that she would about this stuff); there are dozens upon dozens of sites linking to last night's concert and the infamous photos. I have a secret Twitter account that nobody knows that it's me where I follow fans, so I click on one of the links and bring up the picture. It's a little distorted, and since it was dark because the band was playing you can't really tell who the guy is, but you can definitely see that it's me. I bite my lip and continue going through Twitter until I find the person who posted the picture.
IzzySh00r OMG they were sooo cute! Holding hands, cuddling, & he wrapped his arm around her waist!
I snort, but what she said is true. I go through some more of her tweets, which are mostly replies to people.
IzzySh00r U dont kno that! I think its cute!
IzzySh00r Mind MY business? Wh tell me that? If I wanna take a pic of my fave celeb, I will!
I get curious and click 'View conversation'.
promisesoftheafter IzzySh00r Don't you think it would've been better to have asked Izzy if you could have a pic rather than assume?
I read as much as I can of the comments of the pictures that were taken, and then I shut down my computer, having had enough. I should have expected this to happen; I mean, I have two books that are both bestsellers, and Traffic Lights hasn't done too badly. It was only a matter of time until someone discovered Edward. Speaking of him, he walks out of the bedroom just as I'm leaning my head back, and sits down next to me; he's not wearing anything except for his boxers, but it does nothing for me right now, which is kind of sad.
"So, what's the damage?" he asks.
I close my eyes and sigh.
"Somebody took pictures of us last night at the concert," I say quietly.
"So, what's the big fucking deal? People found out you're dating someone—you have a boyfriend—big deal," he says.
I can hear the smirk even with my eyes closed; his comment irks me though. I open my eyes and stare at him.
"Really, is that what you are? I assumed it was more of a 'friends with benefits' type of thing actually," I tell him with attitude.
He narrows his eyes at me.
"What, what gave you that impression?"
I shrug.
"Oh, I don't know. The fact that you touch, I touch you; I blow you, and you make me come because you still know my body after six fucking years, but we never actually said anything about a 'relationship', because the last I heard, you weren't ready," I say.
He winces at my crass explanation, but doesn't do or say anything to tell me I'm lying; because he knows I'm not.
"I—I didn't know you wanted a damn title . . . I assumed we didn't need one," he says quietly.
I frown, confused.
"What are you talking about?" I ask.
He exhales loudly.
"We've always been us; never before have we ever titled what we are—when we started going out when the summer before senior year, didn't we label ourselves then. So, I assumed that you wouldn't want one nowadays—but I'm presuming I'm wrong."
I shrug.
"Okay, never mind it then; I have my answer. I—" I'm cut off by the phone ringing.
I huff and go to answer it.
"Hello?" I say.
"Isabella!"
It's Angela Weber, my publicist.
"Oh, hi Angela; what can do I for you?" I ask, trying to be nice.
Angela is a sweet girl, but I'm just not in the mood to deal with anything like this right now.
"I assume Rosalie Hale filled you in about what happened?" she asks, sounding out winded.
I nod.
"Yeah, she did."
"Good. Listen, we'll need to do some damage control right away," she tells me.
"Seriously, Angela? Wouldn't it be better just to let the public think what they want? Contemplate it all they want, but keep our mouths shut?" I say.
She sighs.
"Yes, you're right. But, you have an interview with Leah Clearwater tomorrow at 10am, and I'm positive she's already caught wind of this. You know how she is about any type of gossip, Isabella," she tells me.
I inhale and then slowly let it out. Leah Clearwater, gossip queen and reporter for one of Hollywood's biggest money grabbing gossip TV shows. She's fucking cutthroat and will push, push, push until somebody who is above her tells her to back off; she'll also try to trick you into answering, thinking you'll cave.
9:30am – the next day
I'm getting ready for Clearwater's interview at the TV studio when Angela walks up as I'm getting my hair and make-up done.
"Remember," she says, sitting down. "If she starts to badger you, and you feel uncomfortable, just signal to me and I'll make sure they cut the interview short, all right?"
I nod.
I can handle Leah Clearwater just fine on my own, though.
10:00am
"Isabella," Leah greets me as we sit down across from each other.
I nod at her.
The guy behind the camera counts down, and then the camera goes on, and it's time.
"Leah Clearwater here with the one and only Izzy Swan!" she says into the camera.
She turns back to me.
"Izzy, how've you been?"
I put on a fake smile.
"I've been alright; can't really complain," I tell her.
She smirks. "That's certainly believable as of late, huh?"
She challenges me with her eyes and puts on a fake smile of her own.
"I'm sure you've heard about the pictures that are circulating around the internet, specifically Twitter, taken this weekend," she tells me.
I nod.
"Yeah, I went to a concert with a friend," I say, not lying.
Edward is my friend.
"Just a friend?" she questions, hinting that it's more.
"My personal life is private, Leah. I went with a friend of mine who surprised me with third row seats to one of my favorite bands; simple as that, really." I smirk.
"Really," she says. "Is he special? You guys close?"
"All I'll say is that I've known him since I was thirteen."
"They say that friendship often times blooms into more," she hints.
This is her tactics; try to trip you by hinting.
"And for the people who have that, then congrats to them. I'm sure it's not easy, but well worth it," I say.
"So, if you had a friend, and you fell in love with him, would you do anything about it?" she asks.
I sigh.
"Hypothetically speaking, it would depend on the situation. I would be afraid of losing the friendship portion, but I think that if you two are tight enough, and both trust each other, you can keep that friendship and have a relationship."
She nods.
"Okay, good enough I guess. Now, onto your books!"
Thank God.
"Your two bestsellers, Promises of an Addict and The Aftermath; how did you come up with those? They seem personal, no doubt."
I exhale.
"I was just going through some personal things back before the first book was even written, and when things got a little better, I decided to try my hand at writing; it became like an outlet for me. You're right—both of those books have personal sentiments for me," I tell her.
She nods, and I can see the curiosity burning in her soulless blue eyes.
When the interview is over, I ask Angela if I have anything else planned for today, and she says that I don't. She drives me home, telling me to be careful and to try to stay away from public spots—popular areas that the media roams.
"I have an appointment tomorrow with Seth Gerandy," I inform her as we pull up in front of my house.
She huffs, and I know what she wants me to do.
"No," I tell her before she can say it. "I'm not cancelling. I need this; besides, it's more for Edward than it is for me."
"What's wrong with him?" she inquires.
Angela is one of the people who don't about Edward and my history; she knows that my first book and its sequel are taken from my past, but she doesn't know that it's Edward.
I unlock the car door.
"You've read my first book, right?" I ask, knowing her answer.
She nods.
"Yep—it's what made me wanna manage you; why?"
"Think about it, Ang," I say.
She grabs hold of my arm as I go to climb out.
"Is he stable, Bella?" she asks.
I look at her; she's completely serious.
How can one honestly answer a question like this? I mean, he's an addict—just because he doesn't use anymore, that doesn't mean the urges aren't there, and he does have his episodes; so no, I guess he's not exactly 'stable'.
"About as stable as someone like him could hope to be—actually, he's better than I expected. He's going to see Seth because I pushed him to; it would give him an outlet while I'm away at signings and on tours, y'know?" I say.
She nods.
I climb and head inside.
In reality, I want Edward to speak with Seth because I want Seth's opinion of him. Yes, it would give him an outlet while I'm gone and that's partly why I pushed the option, but I also want to see what Seth's opinion is. I know he won't be able to tell me what he and Edward talk about behind closed doors—I'm not that naïve—but I do want to see if he can tell me anything as to what brings on those episodes when there doesn't appear to be any explanation. When something doesn't set him off, and an episode occurs, that's when he really worries me.