LouderthanSirens and Momma Bear, you beta like nobody else. Many, many thanks. Jajo, my Twilighted JV beta, I heart you. RoseArcadia, who has been just...awesome...I owe you a drink.
Last but not least, it looks like one of you gems nominated me for the Indie Twific Awards. I feel really fortunate to be on that list, no matter what happens next! I'll keep you all updated.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Bella
Rose is being a bitch.
While this isn't exactly a new thing, when we're at the lake it's rarely an issue, because this place is our haven. Unfortunately, Edward has found himself on her shit list, and once she makes her mind up about a person it's difficult to dissuade her from her hatred.
It doesn't help that he offered to do some of the cooking.
"Rose, I'd like to make dinner for everyone tonight if you don't mind," Edward says the day after he and Emmett arrive. We're all on the beach draped on lounge chairs, beers in hand. Emmett, Jasper, Alice and I snap our heads up and look at him incredulously.
Rose eyes him skeptically.
"I know you always to do the dinners, but I've been cooking a lot, and I thought I could take some of the burden off of you since you end up making all of our meals," he says, glancing at her.
Emmett rubs circles on Rose's shoulders from his position behind her on the chair they're sharing and whispers in her ear.
Until now, we've avoided any real awkwardness, but it was bound to happen at some point. The last time we were all together, there were other family members present to deflect some of the darker undertones present among us. Even though I had my outburst at Christmas, I know that there is unfinished business here. Rose, especially, seems to have unexpressed resentment, though I know Jasper and Alice feel it too.
Jasper isn't the type to come right out with his shit. He's not a hothead like Rose, or like me. He considers his words carefully, and when he chooses to impart his thoughts on a person, you understand the gravity of them because of this.
I wonder when that will be, in this instance.
"Sure. Sounds good. I'll just go put the steaks I had resting in the fridge," Rose says tightly, getting up and stalking up the long flight of stairs to her cabin.
"Fuck." Edward's head is in his hands. "She hates me."
It's true, and there's nothing to say, so we stay silent.
The rest of the day is slightly strained. No one talks much, and I'm relieved when I get back to my empty cabin to get ready for dinner. I put on Andrew Bird to calm my nerves, and mix a cocktail. We're eating at the Cullen cabin, which we didn't do even once last summer. I'm nervous about all of us sitting around a table together, imagining it being silent and painful. I put a dress on and a little bit of mascara, letting the music soothe my jitters.
Jasper, Alice, Rose and I walk over together. I hook my arm through Rose's and smile reassuringly at her as we start down the stairs. She raises one side of her mouth at me in a half-smile before reaching her other arm over to tickle my side. By the time we reach the Cullen's we're smiling and talking.
The moon is high and bright, illuminating our way over the clean sand of the beach.
The Cullen cabin is similar to ours in shape, but it's not on a steep hill. It's close to the beach, and bigger than two of ours put together. Ours are sizable, so this place is practically a mansion.
We're greeted by Emmett throwing open the door, bottle of champagne in hand.
"Welcome to the Cullen Cabin of Love, bitches!" He bellows into the night, ushering us in, grabbing Rose and kissing her.
Edward is at the stove, towel thrown over his shoulder, sleeves rolled up. Rose can't hide her curiosity, leaning over the counter, eyeing his dishes critically. She reluctantly nods at Edward as Emmett hands her a glass of champagne.
He looks relieved, and winks at me before going back to the meal prep. We didn't collaborate on the movie and dinner, but left it up the Cullen boys. I walk over to the coffee table to view the movie selection and burst out laughing.
"Overboard?"
Emmett laughs loudly, "Fuck yeah, girl! Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell in one of the most glorious pairings in movie history! It doesn't get much better than that."
"High class meets white trash. Crab legs, tater tots, Caesar salad and Jello for dessert," Edward laughs from his spot in the kitchen. "Emmett helped me come up with the menu. The tater tots are Gruyere and bacon. Homemade." I should have known he wouldn't make the frozen school lunch kind.
Everyone seems relaxed and laughter comes easily.
Maybe this won't be so bad.
We finish the champagne and Emmett hands each of us a can of beer, the kind my dad drinks.
"Ew, Emmett. Seriously?" Rose gapes at the beer in her hand.
"It's all part of the experience, babe," he scoffs, reaching over to pop the top off of hers as we sit down at the table for dinner.
Edward brings the food out, spreading it out before us and encouraging us to eat as he walks back and forth from the kitchen, bringing out various dishes and placing them on the table. I try not to stare as I watch him take on a role I never anticipated him in.
Even Rose has trouble not looking like she's enjoying the meal. Edward seats himself next to me, and raises his crappy canned beer in a toast.
"To all of us. To this summer," he says, meeting my eyes. We all clink our cans together and take a sip of beer, cringing at the taste.
"Okay. We're going to need something a little less disgusting to drink with dinner, no offense to Charlie," Edward says, smiling at me and getting up to grab another bottle of champagne.
The girls sigh in relief and offer up their glasses for a pour.
Edward is quiet through dinner, his eyes on his plate. I'm a little uncomfortable, not knowing whether or not I should engage him too much.
Rose behaves for the most part, until she brings up the topic of infidelity, referencing a friend of ours in L.A. who just found out her boyfriend is cheating on her.
"… then she went through his phone and found out he was sending this other chick pictures of his cock. Asshole." She flashes her eyes to Edward as she says this.
Real subtle, Rose. Fuck.
Edward is staring back at her, obviously trying to repress some emotions lying just below the surface.
"Obviously, we need to clear the air," he says, dropping his fork and leaning back in his chair.
We sit still, the tension back once again.
Leaning forward again, he puts his elbows on the table and takes a deep breath. "I know what I did to Bella last summer was … unforgivable, and I know that she wasn't the only one affected by what I did. I want to say to all of you that I'm sorry." He looks each of us in the eye as he said this. I can see it's hard for him to get the words out, and I'm floored and embarrassed, my cheeks flaming while I gape at him.
I manage to tear my eyes away from him and sit back in my chair, looking at everyone for their reactions, but specifically Rose and Jasper.
Rose's teeth are biting her full bottom lip, and she's looking at the ceiling, her jaw clenched. Jasper is watching her too. I wait for someone to say something.
Her outburst makes me jump in my chair.
"Well, you're the one who said it was unforgivable, not me. You think just because you show up here and apologize and cook that we're all just going to let it go? Because Jesus Christ if you saw what you did to her …" she shakes her head. My face flushes almost painfully at that statement. "…you wouldn't act like it was something you could atone for by doing this." She gestures at the table, dropping her hands to her lap.
It's quiet then, her harsh words lingering in the air. The music playing is sweetly discordant with the situation and I brace myself against the tension, wishing I could disappear into the song. This is too much; too humiliating to be discussed as if I'm not here.
My eyes are fixed on the bubbles rising in my glass of champagne, and I idly wonder if each bubble holds a universe that is created and destroyed in the time that it takes to rise from the bottom of my glass to burst on the surface. It makes me feel insignificant and safe to know that all of us understand so little of life.
"I forgive you," Jasper says quietly, breaking the silence and bringing me out of my thoughts.
Edward looks at him and nods.
"I forgive you," Emmett says, smiling slightly at his brother.
Edward nods again, returning the half-smile, and then looking at Alice.
"I forgive you," she says, her face flushed and eyes wet, no doubt flashing back to harder times. Jasper's arm tightens around her as she looks at Edward, the hurt from her experience plain on her face. I feel terrible for having to have this conversation, and I'm a little annoyed at Rose for telling the cheating story that led to it. It's easy to forget how broken Alice was just a year ago, watching her with Jasper now.
All eyes turn to Rose, who is looking down at her plate. She takes a deep breath and releases it, all of us along with her.
"I'm going to try," she says quickly, looking Edward in the eyes and nodding resolutely. It is unlike her to concede even that much.
It stays quiet in the room, and I suppose the whole table is looking at me, but I don't care. I don't want to do this in front of everyone. Edward and I look at each other. He looks pained, and I suppose I do, too.
When neither of us speaks, Emmett breaks the silence, reminding us that we have a movie to watch and many cocktails to drink. I readily accept the glass he hands me.
Watching the movie is really fun, because of course Emmett knows almost every line, and the drinks flow freely.
The tension between all of us has dissipated, and even Rose loosens up. Towards the end of the night I find myself very drunk.
When Edward goes out for a cigarette after the movie, I stumble out after him, waving away Alice's offer for accompaniment and ignoring Rose's stare. They both probably just want to keep me from making an ass of myself, but I don't see it that way at the time.
He's standing against the railing, looking at me as I come out the door, wavering slightly when I let the screen door go behind me.
"I'm drunk," I say factually.
"I see that," he says, grabbing my elbow to steady my frame as I lean on the railing next to him.
He's looking back at me, his expression indecipherable, and his hand still on my arm, thumb rubbing my skin gently. I shiver from the contact and the cold air.
"Why is it like this?" I ask, my bottom lip quivering.
He takes his hand from my elbow and moves it tentatively to my face, cupping my cheek. I push my face into his palm, my face crumpling.
"Because I fucked up," he says softly.
I nod slowly and tears spill down my cheeks one more time. My arms cradle my chest, and I hug myself tightly, wishing they were his arms and knowing how fucked up that is.
"I want to forgive you," I say softly.
"But you don't," he responds, no surprise in his voice.
"I don't." I want to say I'm sorry on top of that, to soften the blow in some way, but I can't, and shouldn't.
I think Rose and Alice walk me back to my cabin, but I don't really remember.
He's on my deck waiting for me the next morning, and the morning after that, and the morning after that.
He never comes in before I get up, waiting for me to peek my head out the door to announce that the coffee is brewing. We form our own little morning tradition.
I play him my favorite albums, sitting on the couch while he sits in a chair. I tell him why I like a particular artist or song. We talk, but never touch on the topic of our failed relationship. When we get too close to it, the silence is heavy and tough to break through.
Despite my drunken confession on the deck, I try to keep physical and emotional distance between the two of us. The physical distance is deliberate and sometimes obvious, on both of our parts, but I can't help but watch him nonetheless, my eyes wandering to him more often than I would like.
The days fly by and Edward and I are thrown together by default again, just like last summer. The first few days after his dinner table apology, everyone is annoyingly preoccupied with my well-being. Gradually things relax and settle into a natural rhythm, though.
I talk to Mike every day, but up here it seems like the rest of the world doesn't exist.
I'm really happy. This should scare the shit out of me, but I can't conjure up the proper emotion. Everything seems like it's how it should be. Edward and I banter, and it's almost like it used to be. It even borders on flirtation at times, but he's guarded and usually changes the tone of the conversation shortly after it goes there.
I relish in the times when he's the cocky fucker, though.
Because I'm a fucking masochist.
I know I'm evil, but find myself intentionally provoking him. The day the two of us go for ice cream cones at the drive-in we've been here for about two weeks, and I'm restless.
It's in the 90's, so I throw shorts on but decided to forgo wearing a shirt in lieu of a bikini top.
We don't want to sit in the car to eat our cones.
Okay, Edward won't let me sit in the car.
"You'll get everything all sticky," he says knowingly, shutting off the engine and opening his door.
I roll my eyes and get out of the car to follow him. "You'll get everything all sticky," I say snottily while we're walking towards the order window.
He cocks an eyebrow at me, his eyes mischievous for a moment before looking away, the smile falling from his mouth.
Groaning internally, I order a soft serve vanilla cone while the teenage boy behind the counter stares openly at my chest. Edward stiffens next to me, his eyes darting between my tits and the kid's face, before clearing his throat loudly. The kid's eyes widen as he takes in Edward's expression and protective stance around me, mumbling an apology and running to get our cones.
"God, Edward. He's just being a teenage boy! You are such a brute," I tease, slightly high from watching him get jealous.
Like I said, masochist.
"He was staring. It was rude," he says shrugging, not meeting my eyes. My heart falls and my posture slumps. His words don't indicate jealousy, just chivalry.
Fuck chivalry.
I start wondering if I've lost my mind when I consider my next move. I'm pretty sure I'm playing games. I'm sure it's awful, but I refuse to overanalyze my every thought and action. Can't I just do what I want? Can't I just do what feels good?
I decide that what feels good right now is to eat a rapidly melting vanilla ice cream cone slowly, while completely ignoring Edward.
When I finally do look over, while I'm licking a trail of ice cream up the back of my hand, he's slack-jawed, his eyes on my mouth. He's also visibly aroused. I smile innocently, watching his ice cream drip on the ground while he neglects it.
With a deep breath, he comes to, shaking his head at me. It's almost a reprimand, but he does it with the hint of a smile.
I try to keep the smug look off of my face, but can't. He watches me eat the rest of my ice cream while I pretend I don't notice.
"I see what you're doing," Alice whispers to me.
We're laying face down on our lounge chairs, waiting for everyone else to get back from waterskiing. She hasn't recovered from her first lesson and avoids it at all costs; afraid Jasper is going to make her try it again. I jumped at the chance to stay back and hang out with Alice. Emmett is driving the boat, and he's a maniac, so most of the time I'm in a vehicle with him I see my life flash before my eyes. I would rather not have that happen while I'm on water skis.
"Doing?" I ask, pausing my writing to look up at her.
"Oh come on. The teeny-tiny bikinis? The body oil?" She gestures down my body, which is pretty shiny and tan. "He almost came in his pants watching you eat a peach the other day."
I try to keep a straight face, but when she says "came in his pants" I crack up.
"Ha! See? You are totally fucking with him. That is so awesome," she says, nodding in approval.
Then my face falls. "Am I being too obvious? Do I look stupid?" I plead, my confidence shot for the moment.
"Are you kidding me?" she scoffs. "You've got him so wound up I'm surprised he can even think straight. It's almost sad," she laughs.
"Do you think I'm doing something wrong, though? I know I should be keeping my distance and not teasing him. I'm kind of asking for it, aren't I?" I question, wanting to see Alice's perspective.
She knows what I mean. "I think he's different now."
I lay my head on my arms to look at her. "I'm not the best person to ask, though," she says quietly.
"Oh, Al," I sigh. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you think about him."
"It's okay. Sometimes I'm so happy I just totally forget about my old life. I feel lucky to have all of this," she smiles genuinely.
We know pretty much everything that happened with Alice and Royce, now. Suppressed police photos of Alice's battered face showed up on the internet after the story broke. It turns out, the photos were taken a year before she left him. Her parents made her go to the cops, but she dropped the charges when they got back together. The night he managed to get into her apartment, her neighbor hit his panic button before anything really horrible happened, but he promised that he was going to kill her. She's pretty sure he was serious.
"You and Jasper are perfect together. So perfect that sometimes it's annoying."
"I know, right?" She laughs and then sobers. "Honestly, though, I think Edward changed. At least he'd better have, or Rose is going to find a slow and painful way to punish him."
I smile, but my stomach twists when she says that, like it's an actual possibility.
I spend copious amounts of time during this period masturbating. It's almost sad, because I'm sure I'm starting to rival the habits of pubescent males, and I find myself making excuses to be alone in my cabin. I run through the "reel" daily, as Emmett calls it.
"The reel! You know, the reel," he explains one night after many drinks. "It's like a football highlight reel, but you use your favorite sexual experiences and run through the best parts in your head." This earns him a smack on the head from Rose, but the rest of us crack up.
"Everyone has a reel!" he protests as Rose delivers another smack. "What's on yours, baby?" he taunts her further, but this time she leans in and whispers in his ear and his eyes widen before he throws her over his shoulder and hauls her to their bedroom. I silently thank god for solid construction and soundproofing.
Alice and Jasper depart shortly after that, leaving Edward and I in Rose's living room. I blush when we make eye contact, because all I can think about is my "reel", and how heavily he's featured in it. I blush harder when I think about the fact that Mike is on it, too.
Then I wonder what's on his and my heart sinks.
"Want to come over for a beer, or are you tired?" I ask once my color returns to normal.
He runs his hand through his hair, clearly having an internal battle. "Sure, I'll come over for one," he says somewhat reluctantly. We walk to my place, chatting casually.
I put on music while he opens our beers, and we settle into our usual places in my living room on separate pieces of furniture. It's very deliberate.
"So, when is that guy Mike coming?" he asks, leaning back in his chair, his chest clad in a black wife beater. He's peeling the label off of his beer, watching his fingers.
I'm a little thrown by the change of topic, but regain composure quickly, trying to remember what day of the month and week it is.
"He'll be here on Saturday," I say when I determine the date.
I try to imagine Mike and Edward in the same room and what that will look like.
"Hey," he says, waving a hand in my direction from his reclined position.
I snap back to reality.
"What?"
"I just asked if he's staying here. Like, in your cabin."
"Well, yeah. But Charlie will be here for most of the time, so …"
"Oh, sure. I mean I wasn't saying that you were going to …" he fades off, frowning. It's officially awkward in this room.
"He's not my boyfriend or anything, if that's what you mean," I say.
His frown relaxes, probably in relief, which pisses me off.
"We made out once, but we didn't, like, define it," I say lightly, hoping to hide my irritation. When I glance at him, he's looking at the floor. His face is stone, and his fists are clenching and unclenching. He's never looked better to me than in this moment.
I am so fucked up.
"I told you that to hurt you," I blurt out, surprising both of us.
His eyes dart to mine, finding the shameful look there.
He nods, understanding.
I don't apologize.
When he leaves that night he pulls me in for a hug at the door, our first since last summer. I try to think of the last hug we shared before everything went down, but can't remember it. This thought seems less tragic while wrapped in his arms, my face pressed against his chest, and I'm glad I didn't think of it before now.
We linger just a few beats too long, both letting go at the same time and taking a step back. He reaches for the door and pauses, looking back at me, his face serious. We stare at each other, a whole host of emotions passing between us.
In his eyes I see regret, desire and guilt cycle through over and over.
I wonder if resentment, relief and sexual frustration are all evident on my face. I have a feeling they are.
He breaks our stare with difficulty. "Good night, B," he says, opening the screen door and disappearing into the darkness.
My "reel" that night consists of one image.
Next chapter you can look forward to more Mike Newton action, so hold on to your pants! Literally.
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http://www(dot)twilighted(dot)?f=44&t=7368&hilit=summer+of+salt
Thanks for reading. I mean it.