Chapter 2: QB1
QB1
We watch the progress of the construction crew for the next two weeks. Rose and I also watch Jasper and Alice. He's sweet to her, more than she probably realizes. She's somewhat reserved, but seems comfortable around him.
She still hasn't divulged exactly what happened in New York, but has told us a few things. He was her "first". First boyfriend, first kiss, first everything. He'd been toying with her for years. She read the gossip and saw the pictures of him hanging all over pseudo-celebrity sluts at the bar, but she accepted that part of his lifestyle. Then, she caught him red-handed. Some seedy bathroom shit. She stopped returning his calls, and his voicemails got progressively more intense. He threatened things that she couldn't say, but he must have done some of them, because she finally did cry, on Jasper's shoulder.
"That cocksucking motherfucker." Rosalie shook her head, eyes narrowed, looking ready for a fight.
Alice's shoulders shook and Jasper held her tighter. I shot a warning look at Rose, but when Alice looked up she was laughing through the tears. We all ended up doubled over.
Rose ran to the bathroom telling us to "Shut the fuck up!" because we laughed so hard she peed her pants a little, which only made us laugh harder.
It's July 21st, the summer solstice.
"Who the hell is moving in there? It's killing me." Rosalie runs an ice cube down her chest.
The heat wave persists. The temperature hasn't been below the 80's for ten days, even at night. We've taken to taking nightly swims.
"After all this anticipation, it had better be good," Alice voices, running her ice cube down the back of one leg and then the other.
She shivers. I smile inwardly at the innuendo, peeking at Jasper. He is pretending not to listen.
We are all very tan, our limbs a similar golden brown that looks more gorgeous on the Hale twins. Freckles pop up on my nose and shoulders and my hair gets some pretty chestnut undertones, but nothing like my cousins. They are golden gods. The sun mellows the severity of Alice's black hair and pale complexion. She bronzes evenly, as she rotates meticulously on her lounge chair.
We bring her into all of our rituals. She cannonballs off the dock with Rose and me. She gets a movie veto per night. She is hilarious, spirited, and special. She moved into my cabin, Cedar, the night after she arrived, and I've actually enjoyed having the company. She doesn't care if I wear pants, which may have had a huge effect on how I felt about her as a roommate.
"I think tonight we should watch "What About Bob" and moan over the deliciousness of whatever we make for dinner," Alice voices.
"MMMMMMM…" she laughs, moaning exaggeratedly.
Jasper shifts uncomfortably.
"Oh, Fay, this is so scrumptious. Is this hand-shucked?"
Rose and I are giggling.
The night is clear, so after dinner we have a bonfire, trooping down to the beach with a cooler full of beer. Jasper starts the fire and I start the "Name Game". It starts with a celebrity name, and the first letter of the last name dictates who you name.
"Steve McQueen." I look to Jasper.
"Marvin Gaye." He looks to Alice.
"Gary Busey." We all chuckle. To Rose.
"Brad Pitt." Of course.
"Perez Hilton." I say, and get eye rolls all around.
"Harry Houdini." Back to me.
It goes on forever, and we debate the validity of some names and laugh at others.
"Nick Nolte." The ensuing debate about who would win in a fist fight, Nolte or Busey, gets heated. Jasper and I are sitting up in our chairs gesturing wildly, while the other girls collapse in giggles.
"Okay, okay, okay," I say, stopping the fight because I think I won, anyway. "Nancy Reagan. Take that, war on drugs," I say, gesturing with the joint in my hand.
"Ronald Reagan," Jasper chokes out, laughing.
Back to me. I think for a second, pausing.
"Ron Jeremy," a voice from behind me says. Not just a voice, but a voice. Smooth and instantly trouble.
We all turn to take in the two figures behind us, intruding on our circle.
The figures step into the light from the fire, and I inhale and hold my breath. My stomach flips, and I swallow hard. They're two boys about our age. One is huge, muscular and cute, and the other is shorter, but not short, muscular and beautiful. I swoon internally.
At least I hope I do.
His hair is bronze and his eyes are green. His jaw is defined and his skin looks soft. I glance at Rosalie and Alice to gauge their reactions. Rose is smiling up at the big one, who is kinda obviously flexing his muscles and holding a bottle of Patron, eyeing her back. Alice is smiling at them as well, but her body is angled toward Jasper, who is eyeing the competition warily. I stand up and stick my hand out.
"Hi. I'm Bella."
"Nice," the beautiful one nods appreciatively, his eyes sweeping up and down my body, before settling on my tits.
My eyes narrow. With one word he put me on the defensive.
"Thanks?" I withdraw my hand, which has not been shaken, and glare at the big one.
"Emmett Cullen at your service, m'lady," he bows and takes my hand, kissing it.
At least the man has a little charisma. My sneer softens.
"Nice to meet you. This is Alice, Jasper, and Rose."
He takes a seat on the bench next to my blonde cousin and offers up the bottle.
"Patron. Nice."
"Only the best for a girl as beautiful as you."
Her face sets into a fake smile. Like most girls, she hates cheesy pickup lines. She's probably heard more of them in one year than I will in a lifetime, however. This could get interesting.
"How original. Why don't we just get this out of the way? I come here often, I'm a Gemini, and definitely not an angel."
She takes a chug of Patron, letting a little drip down her chin and wiping it off with the back of her hand.
Emmett looks impressed. I'm used to it. Rose is notoriously difficult with men. The type she likes physically are generally not the brightest bulbs, but she longs for creativity and someone who can match her intellectually. It's a tall order, so she settles.
She hands the bottle back to Emmett, who takes a swig and passes it to the bronze-haired one, still standing behind the chairs. I sit down, but keep my eyes off the beautiful boy, who is literally smoldering while he looks back at me. I shift in my chair, looking at everyone else, anyone else.
"This is my brother Edward. Our mom just bought the cabin over there, " Emmett says, gesturing toward the Stanley place.
Edward sits in the chair across from me.
"We've been watching the construction. Looks really good." I smile at Emmett.
"We've been watching the construction crew. Hot men. Tools. Nothing better." Rosalie postures, casually stirring her drink with a fingertip.
Emmett is looking at her longingly.
"Where are you from?" I ask, still not looking at the boy, but I can still feel his eyes on me. I self-consciously zip my hoodie up a few inches. It's still hot but I only have my bikini top under it.
"We live in Texas now, but we're from Oregon originally," Emmett offers.
I tell him where I'm from in Washington and we chat about the Pacific Northwest and move on to L.A. when Emmett asks about Rose and Jasper. Alice mumbles a few words about New York, but I can see her unease around the new additions to our group. Jasper unconsciously puts his arm behind her chair.
The conversation moves on, and is actually really easy. Emmett is amiable and kind and funny. They are staying for the summer, like us. Edward just stares at me, or the fire, not talking. Something about the way he looks at me, and the way he just looks, makes my stomach dip. At one point I look up and our eyes meet and he licks his lower lip. I let out a shaky breath. He sees and smiles slowly. I'm seriously worried I'm going to pass out.
What is this? Who am I? Am I that desperate for male contact that someone who shows up, ogles my boobs and is almost totally mute can make me feel like a giddy schoolgirl? He'd said one word. Okay, three words. And two of them were "Ron Jeremy".
Ew, and yummy, if only because in the Name Game that is comedy gold.
I need to get a fucking grip.
I stand up to go get more drinks, but the stairs look daunting. And it's hot. I'm hoping he'll follow me but he doesn't, and in my most inside parts I'm wickedly disappointed.
I trudge to the top and grab more beer. Sweating, I change into one of Jasper's old band t-shirts and look in the mirror. I'm flushed from the walk, but it's more than that. My eyes are shiny and bright. I'm nervous and hopeful, despite myself.
I whisper, "He's a jerk," to myself, like some rational part of me might hear it and intervene.
My boyfriends have all been nice guys. Nice and really, really boring.
I cringe at the memory of my few sexual encounters. Not many of them proved to be…successful. Arms and legs and awkward kisses.
Okay, stop.
I shake my head and walk back down the stairs.
Jasper and Alice are leaning close and talking quietly.
Just a matter of time with those two, I think.
Rose and Emmett are talking football, and I swear I can see cartoon hearts in his eyes. She is lamenting our lack of "ESPN Classics" and he is running down the list of games re-airing this week and trying to impress her with the size of his flat screen. It seems to be working.
Throwing more beer in the cooler, I pass one to Edward, who is just draining the last drops of his first. He lights a cigarette.
"Thanks." Four words. He exhales the smoke, making his eyes squint over at me.
I don't answer, but acknowledge his thanks with a nod.
I feel slightly annoyed at my best friends for pairing off, leaving me with someone who has uttered literally four words to me, but is undressing me with his eyes. Where to start?
"So … how old are you?" I try.
"Nineteen."
I wait for him to elaborate, but he just stares at me.
Great, he's going to use one-word answers. This conversation will be short and sweet.
"What do you do?"
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know. School? Work? Vices?" My voice fades off at the end.
I suddenly feel gawky and adolescent under his sure and unrelenting gaze. I want to walk across the fire and straddle his lap, but I can hardly hold a mundane conversation with him.
"I'm a quarterback at Texas A & M."
Of course.
"Football." I state, grimly. I've dated jocks. Or more, I've fought off the roaming hands of drunk jocks under the premise of being on a date. He nods, kind of looking at me like I'm an idiot.
"Don't be modest, bro. He is the quarterback. QB1." I look up at Emmett, surprised. I didn't realize he was listening to our conversation.
"That's great." I say lamely, mentally smacking my forehead.
Emmett goes on to tell us that he's a defensive linebacker with the Aggies, too. It makes sense. They both fit their positions perfectly.
I take a very large sip of my beer. Some kind of uncharacteristic insecurity kicks up in me. This kid is gorgeous, talented and doesn't seem like a total tool. It would be easier if he were, because then when he rejects me I can blame it on him being an asshole. I'm pretty sure he's an asshole anyway, thinking back to the beginning of our encounter. I take another big chug and take the joint Jasper is passing around. I'm drinking faster than usual, but don't slow down.
My insecurity is soon replaced by a funny, sassy, kinda dirty Bella. Drunk Bella. We are passing the Patron around. Rose and Jasper are telling stories from last month and we are all laughing. Even him. I occasionally say something that isn't too embarrassing, but mostly stay quiet. He relaxes too, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, peeling the labels off his beer bottles, smoking cigarettes. He's looking down at his hands, which I notice are big and a little rough. His arms are cut and he has a little bit of a tan, but looks pale next to us in his black wifebeater. Leaning back and throwing one arm over the back of the chair, he catches me staring again and smirks, quirking one eyebrow. My breath catches in my throat.
Suddenly Alice screams and so does Rosalie.
I jump. I'm startled until I realize that our song is on and I'm being pulled out of my chair and into a girlie dance circle.
"They do this at least once a day," Jasper sighs from his chair, sounding annoyed yet amused.
I can see he's watching Alice spin around with her arms over her head, and wonder if he's seeing it in slow motion in some kind of "Wayne's World Dream Weaver" interlude.
We sing into our beer bottles at each other and bump hips. I'm glad no one has a video camera at this point.
The night from there gets a little blurry. Flashes of the beautiful boy's eyes and a bottle of Jack and his hands and Rose and Alice naked…
Wait. What?