A/n: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. However, I, under the penname listed above, do own this story, plot and its variations. I prefer it not to be plagiarized and thank you in advance.
This story wouldn't go anywhere without my wonderful beta quothme. Additionally thanks to all those who go above and beyond to rec, it is humbling and well, awesome.
Chapter Eight
Bella opened her eyes—or at least, she thought she did. She could see, but everything seemed to be blurred at the edges, as if she were looking through a foggy filter or someone had come in and photoshopped her vision. She didn't know exactly where she was, just a room that vaguely resembled ones in her high school. She was staring at the ceiling with shadows seemingly snatching at her, the darkness demanding her fear, the loneliness looming over as her only companion. Faintly in the distance, she could hear the DJ for the night announce the last song of the dance, and for a moment she felt a flicker of safety. She was still somewhere near the gym.
As she turned her head, she suddenly noticed Edward beside her, as if he had appeared from nowhere. He seemed more… ethereal, more unreal, more exquisite than usual, his golden glow bright. His eyes were arresting, holding her captive, sparking and sparkling. He wore no overt expression, blank save for his beauty. She dragged her eyes away from his to look at his too-perfect face and gulped audibly, though she couldn't place the detached dread she was feeling. It felt like she was swimming within her own mind, floating in a nebulous sea of thoughts, reason and rationality ebbing and flowing like a tide over her tired self.
"Oh, silly Bella." His voice was like quicksilver and quicksand, enticing and entrapping. "Every thing about me invites you in. My voice, my face, even my smell. As if you could fight me off." She couldn't understand the meaning of his words, and they lolled around her brain, bobbing above and under the surface of understanding until they finally sank away as he placed his hand on her cheek. The warm weight of his palm felt foreign, almost formless like he was somehow touching her yet not at the same time. In fact, the whole situation, from the way she was suddenly lying across a surface, softer almost than Edward's hand, to the way everything was obscured by darkness, was tinged with danger.
"Edward? What's happening?" She didn't know why she asked. As he lowered his face to hers, licking his lips longingly, she knew exactly what was happening. Yet everything felt like it was shrouded in a muddling haze of befuddlement.
"Let me show you, Bella," Edward was saying, words glossy and glassy, gliding through her. His mouth was millimeters from hers, yet she couldn't feel the force of his breath. "Let me show you what it's like." He slid his hand from her cheek to place his palm on her breastbone, apex of his index finger and thumb right at her throat.
Images were dancing in her mind. Not dancing—writhing through her mind. Lewd and lascivious, bawdy and bold, images of hands and heat, pelvises and pulsing, fingers and fornication, tongues touching, thighs thrusting, phallus fu—
But she couldn't finish the libidinous line of thought because... because… because. Because luscious lips nipped at her loosely parted pair. Because it was only his mouth on hers, but it felt as if a thousand mouths were kissing her everywhere she could feel, like she was lying in a cloud of kisses. Because though his lips were lovely and loving, a feeling was going through her body, taut, trembling waves of want worming its way into her. A heavy wave of lust blanketed the room, a sultry air of sex slipped through her, incongruous to the soft seduction of the mouth making its way down her cheek, chin, neck. She didn't know what was perpetuating the raunchy, randy, wanton wanting in her, but she couldn't fight it, and she couldn't find it in herself to care.
A delirious haze settled over her, and she could feel a tug to something in the back of her mind, something that kept niggling her for attention. But everything was in a foggy fugue—except for the perfectly placed kisses up and down her collarbone, tickling, teasing, tasting, his tender, tremulous touch taking over all her thoughts.
It was like she was having an out-of-body experience, her surroundings darkening as though ink was seeping onto the page of her imagination. She felt strangely detached from her body and she realized she was speaking. "Edward."
He didn't respond, merely continued to provide her immeasurable pleasure with his calm, quiet kissing, lips locking around her earlobe, mouth maneuvering under her chin, teeth tracing the tendons of her neck—he was everywhere at once, yet nowhere, his touching ghosting over her.
"Edward." This time she tugged on the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling back so she could look at him. But she was shocked at what she saw: the golden-eyed god with the stunningly seductive smile whose gaze she had held a few minutes ago wasn't the boy whose hair she was holding. No, she was looking at a previous incarnation, thick lenses preventing her from probing him with her stare, stringy brown hair in place of the dashingly disheveled copper mane, and instead of that sultry smirk, a pusillanimous, rather pathetic pout. Bella was no longer seeing the man she mooned over; she was looking at the boy she had never truly seen. "Edward?"
He licked his lips and abruptly, unceremoniously, his expression turned devious, devilish, dangerous, and… dare she say it… demonic. "I used to be." And with a sudden sneer, he moved toward her and her sleepy stupor swiftly turned into a noxious nightmare, a depraved, debauched dream, a hellacious hallucination.
Bang!
A blood-curdling bang of thunder bellowed with a sudden, severe crack. Bella was shaken out of her subconscious as its reverberations roared through the building, shaking the foundations in its boots. But she was still hovering on the precipice between conscious and not, her mind not thinking lucidly yet but still ludicrously. Words swam through her consciousness, telling her that appearances were deceiving, that just as you couldn't judge a book by its cover, you couldn't judge its readers by their cover. Some part of her insisted that the simplest solution was often the correct one, and another part of her was swearing… shit, shit, it seemed to be saying. No, that's not right. It wasn't saying shit, it was saying… Sith. Sith. Baobhan Sith.
Still weak and woozy, she didn't bother to sit up but turned her head to look at her surroundings—she could see the darkened, empty hallway from her vantage point and realized she was in the faculty lounge inside the school. The whole situation seemed vaguely familiar, as if she had seen it before, but she couldn't recall the disorienting dream she'd just had. She shook her head slightly, trying to straighten her jumbled thoughts. How did she end up here? What had she been doing?
Slowly, she began to trace her steps. She was in her dress, makeshift angels' wings crumpled and crushed beneath her because she had gone to the dance. And at the dance, Mike and Tyler had gotten into a fight and Mike's nose had started bleeding and she had felt dizzy, but not just because of the blood. And somehow she had gotten from the gym to inside the school. She couldn't remember exactly, but if there was blood, it was a fair guess that she had fainted. Yet something else was nagging at her… something more than just blood had left her body in this seized, scared state. Why else had she been—
Oh. God.
.
All of the evening's events—the dance, the website with the legend that so seamlessly fit in with Edward's sudden change, the fight between Mike and Tyler, the drops of blood on a white shirt—came rushing back to her, and she made a move to sit up just as lightning flashed and a figure darkened the doorway. Think of the devil and he doth appear. Complete with clip-on horns.
The impending storm stirred, thunder rife to rise, lightning set to shine. She could hear the pulsing bass of music playing from the gymnasium, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she transcribed the meaning of the song to her own situation: one way or another, he had found her and he was going to get her, get her, get still felt woozy, weakened, now even more from the realization that all this time, she had only been seeing half the picture. The information about Baobhan Sith, its corroboratory evidence against both Leah and Edward had drastic, dangerous implications. Edward wasn't just the snake charmer, making the ladies dance to his tune. His strength was the siren song he sang to seduce. But he was also the snake itself, the weapon, the venom.
Still, even with this knowledge, she couldn't deny how effective his signature brand of dark seduction was. He was even more disheveled than she remembered—his hair, which had been somewhat tamed and parted stylishly to one side, was now sticking up in places. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket anymore; his stark, white shirt clung to his shoulders, tracing down the delicious outline of his torso. The top few buttons were open, exposing his smooth, hard collarbones and an enticing smattering of chest hair.
Martial, mean lightning shined as he smiled when he saw her sit up and made to move toward her, damp handkerchief in one outstretched hand. Immediately, she shot up off the couch and away from him.
"Bella?" He said her name slowly, smoothly, like a song, and his voice only made her head feel more light. Was he doing this to her? Was there some sort of power he had that slowly cut off each sense until resistance, survival became futile?
She didn't even recognize her own voice or comprehend the words she was saying when they came out. "You stay away from me!" Thunder roared back in retaliation.
"Bella—" But she was nearing hysteria and couldn't be coddled.
"No! I don't know who you are or what she's done to you, but I'm not going to let you take me!" No matter how much I might like it.
"What? You know who I am, I'm—"
"You're sure as hell not Edward Cullen!" Bella tried to yell, but her words came out a hoarse, stuttered sotto voce. Edward took one lithe, liquid step forward, and she backed into a desk, causing a cacophony as it scraped against the floor. There was only one light on in the corner of the room, causing shadows to ghost all around, save for the split seconds when the lightning illuminated everything in a white, angry flash.
"I'm not Edward Cullen?" His voice was low and quiet, full of potential power, like the rev of a Ferrari. He took one step forward, eyes hooded, smile slightly twisted. He raised his hands as if trying to soothe a savage beast. "Please tell me, Bel-la," he split her name into two deliciously sinister, distinct syllables, "who am I?"
Bella clumsily backed up farther, knocking more desks and chairs, unable to look away from his magnetic gaze. "It's not who you are…it's, it's what you are," she sputtered with the heated fury of a hot air balloon. She couldn't stand still, her nervousness and fear seeping out of her in the way she wrung her hands and bit her lip. Edward's sizzling, scintillating gaze narrowed on her mouth.
"Alright then…what am I?" Even as his brow furrowed, his eyes never left her lips. She swallowed audibly and visibly, trying to tamp down the mélange of emotions running through her. She was scared, yet she couldn't say that the twist in her stomach was completely from fear—did being damned have to be so delicious, take such a lovely form as lothario taking a step in her direction?
"I don't know what you are!" she accused, words making sense in her mind but not out loud. Edward arched a dark eyebrow. "But you're…. you're not… you're not…" She paused, struggling to find the right word. "…normal!" She said it with gusto and then deflated, realizing that the term was neither derogatory nor threatening—the two sentiments she'd been aiming for.
"I'm not normal? Well, I've certainly been called worse," he said, the amusement in his words almost melodic. The left side of his smirk tilted up, and Bella found herself wanting, desperately, to lick the apex where the corner of his lips joined.
"I meant, you can't be real… you're impossibly good-looking and smart. Your skin is pale and doesn't have so much as a birthmark on it except for—"
"Oh, I have a birthmark," he interrupted blithely, lissome fingers undoing yet another button of his shirt. He cocked his head to the side and pulled his collar, revealing an expanse of smooth skin from his neck to the edge of his shoulder, where a small, brown dot rested in the hollow of his collarbone. "See?"
Bella wanted to lick it. She wanted to dip her tongue into the incurvate area and lick and bite down on the bone around it and lick and drag her lips up that neck and lick and suck that earlobe and, oh god, she couldn't stop thinking of the word 'lick.' Lick those fingers and lick, lick, lick, lick—
Was this his power? That he infiltrated minds and placed ideas of actions so wanton, thoughts so downright dirty that they were impossible not to act on? He was doing it right now, to her, what he had done to the others with his bizarre skill, and she was falling hopelessly under his spell. As her eyes flicked away from his collarbone, they drank in what looked like drops of blood on his shirt and then darted to the two cuts high on his neck, just under his jaw… right near the jugular. Words began tumbling out of her in sheer desperation to keep her lips and tongue otherwise occupied. "Your eyes are the color of gold, which—who has gold eyes? And you speak like, you sound like…" she sputtered, then whispered, "…sex." Edward chuckled.
"What exactly are you accusing me of, Bel-la?" he said, almost playfully. She even wanted to lick his voice. It really did sound like… sex. Edward's eyes flicked down to her chest before returning to meet her gaze. She realized she was breathing hard, panting almost, and all of a sudden, she felt out of control. She had to speak her piece—maybe if she let him know she knew what he was, she would actually be able to get away from (licking) him. He took a step toward her. "Say it, out loud."
Oh god. Oh god, oh god. For lack of anything else, her desperate tongue licked her own lips. She was going to be one of them. Another Cullen conquering, and she was going to look like them when he was done with her, with the wild hair and the glazed look and the giggles. God, those stupid giggles. And while the idea of being sired, of being turned into some sort of demon was accompanied by an incomprehensible amount of fear, she couldn't deny that there was some sort of excitement, an adrenaline rush, that accompanied it. Bella wondered why the idea of being taken by Edward was neither as terrifying nor as demeaning as she felt it should be. Maybe it was because there was an inherent compliment when a man who looked like that took notice of you. Maybe it was because she could finally know what all the fuss was about. Maybe, a part of her brain raged, this was all part of his power, that he could not only seduce you but could also make you like it. Don't go down without a fight, Bella, her internal voice asserted. In fact, leave the going down to him. She groaned inwardly. She couldn't control her monstrous libido—how was she going control the actual monster in front of her? Gathering her determination, she spoke.
"I don't know what you're doing to these girls, Edward, but it can't be normal. I mean, it's like they have no control over what they do around you, like they can't resist you, like you have some power over them. I saw Rosalie and Carmen and others after you were done with them. They looked different and acted strange and it's not… human" She said the words intensely fast but with a determination she hadn't felt before. She had told him. She had told him the most ludicrous idea she had ever had, but when she swallowed and met his eyes, she couldn't help but wonder whether it was a good idea to antagonize someone—something—she had just accused of being supernatural. "You're not human."
Edward was no longer smirking. "You think I'm sort of a… sexual, debauched… boogeyman?" he asked. For the first time, there was doubt in his tone and what sounded like a hint of anger. And had he always been so tall? She used to find his height impressive and regal, but now as he looked down at her, his build felt too architectural, too powerful, like a dominating, eyesore skyscraper—and she was standing in his shadow.
"I read… I researched about... Baobhan Sith. And how they turn their victims into these weird versions of vampire incubi. Remember, you and I, we once talked about incubi before… before, uhhh, before you..." She trailed off, not knowing how to finish the sentence.
"Before I became one, you mean?"
"Are you admitting to it?" Her voice squeaked in incredulity. A tiny wrinkle appeared above his nose, between his eyebrows (Bella wanted to lick that, too), in the beginnings of a frown before he smoothed his expression into his default smolder. Lightning flashed once more, like a spark, causing shadows on his face that made him look menacing and malicious.
"You're… you're accusing me of being a demon that seduces women based on something we read on Wikipedia? That's what you think this whole thing is?" Edward looked somewhere between the realm of outraged and incredulous, brows furrowed, eyes flashing and mouth set in a straight, determined line. Oh god. She had just made the creature who wanted to bonk the hell into her angry. Not good, Bella.
She could sense the waves of anger rolling off him. Maybe she shouldn't have told him she knew what he was. Maybe if she had pretended to be innocent, inane, ignorant, like all those other girls, he wouldn't have been looking at her with a stewing storm in his eyes to match the one outside. But his next words surprised her. "What made you think that?"
"I told you," she said nervously. She felt like she was walking along a trembling, tenuous tight rope and each word she spoke was only weighing her down more. It could be only a matter of minutes before the rope snapped. Why was he asking her this? Why was he prolonging the inevitable? Couldn't he just indicate whether she was blood-curdlingly, bone-chillingly correct about his intentions toward her?
But he didn't. Instead, he jutted his chin at her and said, with a cold detachment in his voice, "Tell me again, then. List the reasons."
"Well, there's all the girls that you've hooked up with—" Bella began.
"Aside from them. What are the reasons?" This time, his words were punctuated with an angry impatience. Maybe he was asking her this so he could prevent other people from finding out the way she had, so that he could protect his secret. But whatever the reason, she had no choice but to answer.
"Well, your eyes are golden—" she began again.
"No, they're amber. I used to wear glasses, but I wouldn't expect you to remember that. I wear these contact lenses that apparently enhance the color of your eyes."
"Oh. Well… um, there's always…" Suddenly, all the reasons, the solid, sure pieces of evidence she had that Edward was not human were slipping from her mind. "You have blood on your shirt."
"Yes, Newton got blood on me. That's your reason?" Edward asked archly. She'd never heard his tone like this—normally, it was molten, hot and flowing. It was still smooth now, but with an icy chill that caused a shiver in her veins.
"Your hands were really warm when you first walked into the gym, even though you didn't have gloves."
"Yes, most people become warm when they turn on the heating in their car. Usually."
"You have two cuts on your neck—as if someone… something bit you."
"I cut myself shaving."
"Twice?"
"I was nervous."
"About what?"
"Going to the dance with you."
"Oh. Oh. Well, also, you… you…" She faltered. She was having trouble expressing her fragmented reasoning, but she knew what she thought. And so she rambled. "You disappear one summer and you come back like… like this! Completely different, completely irresistible and… and I know you spent the summer with Leah and Seth, and I know that Leah went to Scotland with Andrew Cludel and that when she came back, she was different, and I read about BaobhanSith and how she was just like one—young, beautiful, seducing guys. And I know that Baobhan Sith choose a particular victim, who then turns into a male version of them and also is beautiful and seduces girls until he finds a particular one, who he thinks is strong and special enough to become a Baobhan Sith, and…" She paused for a minute before continuing. "And along with that note you left me about the Sadie Hawkins dance, I found a list of our topics from our project last year, and you had written 'incubi' down even though we only mentioned it briefly. And then I put it together because just after that, you left for Chicago and you met Leah… and…" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "…you became one, too."
"What are you talking about?" Edward's voice was sharp. "What note? And how… how do you know about Baobhan Sith? Have you been reading my book?"
"What book?"
"Incubi and Other Legends."
"What? No! I haven't read that book. What does it matter how I know? I just know! And I know your secret! So tell me, Edward, tell me. Now that you have me here, cornered, with no one else around, in an abandoned school like a scene out of Scream, what are you going to do with me?" Bella's question came out almost like a dry sob. She had managed, in her histrionic spiel, to work herself into hysterics and showed no signs of halting. "Are you going to have your way with me? Are you going to release yourself from this curse and selfishly make me like you, like Leah? Am I going to be the one having sex in the janitor's closet next year? Or threesomes in the—"
She was shocked as Edward clamped a hand over her mouth to stop her riotous rigmarole. She was even more stupefied when he let out a gust of a sigh, released her mouth and apologized for his action. He then led her bumbling and dumbfounded body to one of the couches.
"Sit down and calm down, Bella." His gaze was so strong, his instruction so authoritative, that she couldn't help but do as he said. "It's funny how you don't remember the rest of that conversation," he said, voice rolling and rumbling like the thunder beyond the horizon. "Let's take a trip down memory lane to that project you mentioned, where you pretty much flat-out rejected me. You claimed that you wanted a man who could satisfy you, a man who you knew could attend to your 'needs.' I wasn't that man—you didn't even know me, but you made it clear that I wasn't that man. Fair enough. Let's fast forward a few months, to, oh, right around now, where I'm exactly what you asked for and you accuse me of being… what was it? Oh, that's right. A demon." This was a voice of Edward's she had never heard, hard with discontent, slick with rage, brittle under heavy emotion.
And then it dawned on her. In a montage of crazy conjectures and hysterical hypotheses, she realized that as a result of her asinine assumptions and downright dumb deductions, she had been wrong. "You mean… you're not a… and Leah's not a… Baobhan Sith?"
"Of course not!" he exploded, just as a flash of lightning hit. Underscoring his anger, thunder quickly followed. The rain pounded against the glass and Bella no longer felt unsafe, just very small. In the infinite imagination she possessed, she had woven an epic horror story—Scream,she had said. Really, it was just another high school tale—Clueless would have been far more apt a choice for a title. "How could you think that, Bella?"
"I don't know, Edward. What was I supposed to think? You come back with the makeover of a lifetime, suddenly you're this glorious god of high school and hallways and I… in retrospect, it's stupid and ridiculous, but you have no idea what has been going through my mind these past few weeks."
"No, I don't," Edward said dryly. Bella bristled at the callous condescension in his tone.
"Well, explain it to me, then. How did you become… you?" Bella asked, unable to help the reverent, almost randy tone on the last word.
"It's a simple answer, Bella. You said it yourself. A makeover," Edward answered. "I did spend the summer with Leah. And Seth, her brother. When Seth heard that I was somewhat broken hearted over a girl who had rejected me, he got the brilliant idea of giving me a makeover. He thought that if this girl actually took a good look at me, she'd regret her decision. And so he made me someone worthy of being looked at."
Bella's voice had dropped out of her throat. Her heart, which had been beating furiously under the strain and stress of the situation, began slowing. Outside, the rain was abating, too—instead of pounding against the windows, fat drops were falling like tears, sounding hollow and empty on the glass.
"Seth… gave you a makeover? That's it?"
"What, you think this happened overnight? No, Bella. I worked out for hours every day, got lectured and yelled at by Leah, got harassed under the guise of a makeover by Seth. Hours of shopping and trying on clothes—which I hate—haircuts and eyebrow waxes—which I don't get how you girls stand for it—and wearing these contact lenses that make my eyes feel like sandpaper. You wouldn't believe the summer I had. It was more strenuous than actually being at school. I felt like I was in Pygmalion. Hell, I'm pretty sure I'm in some messed-up, bad modern remake of it. 'My Fair Eddie'." He snorted unceremoniously.
"How... how did you get so good at... sex?" Bella asked, almost fearfully, whispering the last word.
Edward smirked, looking like his old self for a moment. "I didn't say that all my working out was at the gym. I spent a lot of my time with Leah." Bella's gasp was croaky and slow. This wasn't a horror story—Leah hadn't infected Edward. No, this was like Edward had said, a fraught, falsified fairy-tale, an ugly duckling story gone awry. Whereas Bella had seen a frog, Leah had seen the prince inside.
"The truth is, I really liked Leah. She was one of the few people I met who didn't find happiness in hypocrisy. She was the most exciting person I had ever been around... and the second most lovely girl I had ever seen," he said, looking at Bella pointedly. "She saw that I was lonely and sad and was kind to me, which is more than I can say for anyone else. I have great affection for her. Surely this can't be the first time you've ever heard of friends with benefits? There were many, many benefits to my friendship with Leah, starting with her company."
"So she... taught you how to be charming? How to get girls?"
Edward scoffed. "In theory. The practice was… well, some of it was fun." He snickered to himself, accompanied by a silly, self-directed smile that made Bella think that a part of him really had had fun. "But it wasn't just Leah. It was a triple effort. There was another member of the holy trinity, someone who taught me everything he knew about charm and swagger and being mysterious and what girls are attracted to, just by watching him. Jasper."
"Jasper?" Bella blanched. She thought back to last year when Jasper used to strut around the hallways of Fork High… just like Edward did now. She wanted to melt into the couch under her as she comprehended her stupidity.
"Yeah. He and Leah have been friends for years and he was visiting us for awhile. He was happy to share some of his wisdom, but the truth is, most of the stuff I learned from him, I just picked up by watching. I am an excellent people-watcher. Spent seventeen years doing it. But according to Jasper, who then told Seth, it was time for people to watch me." Edward shrugged nonchalantly, but there was forced casualness to his movement.
"I get it, Edward. You did all this so you could finally be seen."
"Oh, Bella," he said, wistfulness worming its way into his voice. "You still don't get it. I don't care about being seen by anyone but you. I wanted you to see me, moreover, to see me as exactly what you wanted."
"Me? What I wanted? What did I want?" Bella asked, genuinely confused.
"What you said you wanted! A guy who girls talk about, who knows what he's doing, one whose girl will never be one of the 10%. I did this, I changed for you." She had never seen Edward so sad, so downcast. His golden eyes were no longer shining, but muted; the glow was gone. But they were wide and open and she realized that he was baring his all-too-human soul to her.
And suddenly Bella saw him clearly. He wasn't a demon, just a man, the absolute best and worst of a man. Wickedly winning, beyond beautiful, intensely intelligent yet still unreasonable, insensible, outrageous even. Such a man. "So you're saying that you slept with half the population of our town… for me?" She somehow managed to control her simmering anger into those last two syllables.
Unable to meet her eyes, Edward nodded, propelling the simmer to a dangerous rolling boil. Bella closed her eyes in a vain attempt to stave her irate incredulity. He truly was just a guy. How could she have been stupid as to think he was supernatural? For all his wit and smarts, he was just as stupid—slept with every girl and then blamed it on her! Her embarrassment and anger were fusing together and for the first time, despite an attraction that had not waned in the least, she wanted to do something else to him with her tongue. No licking, just lashing. Now, she didn't feel so lightheaded or helpless around Edward Cullen.
"And you thought that's what I would want? I would want someone about whom I could compare notes with every girl I know? You know how Edward and I went to Port Angeles? Oh, what's that, Irina? You and he once hooked up in his car in Port Angeles? So did we! Renata, tell me, where in the AV room did you and Edward have sex? On this desk or that one?" Bella's tone was pompous and her ire like Pompeii as it came to a boil and bubbled over the surface.
"Excuse me?" Though his tone was gentler, Edward was no less forceful. "This from the girl who told me that she would know how good a guy was by the fact that 'girls talk.'" He put up air quotes and, irritated, Bella slapped them down.
"This isn't what I meant when I said that, Edward!"
"No? What did you mean, Bella?" She moved her mouth a couple of times but couldn't formulate an answer. In reality, she hadn't really known what she was saying—she had said it because it was so the opposite of the old Edward that she knew it would dissuade him. But the idea of having a man who knew what he was doing was one thing; the reality was another, less attractive, thing.
Edward shook his head. "You suffer from grass-is-greener syndrome, Bella. As soon as you get what you asked for, you ask for what you had. You wanted your perfect man, one who knew what he was doing, how to be satisfying. You know how a guy goes from being a virgin to good in bed? Practice, plain and simple. With one girl, with many girls, whatever, but no guy is born knowing these things, Bella. Practice makes perfect. And you better believe I am damn close to perfect."
"Well, you've had enough practice," she muttered.
"See, there it is. You've got me, exactly what you asked for, but no, now you want someone shy and pure and devoted to you. I may not be shy anymore or pure but," his tone softened, "I am devoted to you, Bella, I am," he said, almost pleading. She didn't say anything, couldn't say anything, the sheer force of shock stunning her into silence.
"I don't know why you had to get my attention like this. By hooking up with every girl in the vicinity? There are other ways to get people to talk."
"I admit, it's not perfect, but it got your attention. And you're right; a good-looking guy who doesn't hook up with girls does get talked about. Girls talk about how he's probably gay. Which, by the way, is still much more preferable to being mistaken for a soulless, conscienceless demon."
She huffed. "I'm sorry about that, okay? I didn't mean to make you angry. Geez, you have a temper." She knew it was unfair and probably untrue, but she didn't like being accused of something that she couldn't defend herself against.
Edward closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath, keeping the impending tempest threatening to erupt between them at bay. "I don't have a temper, Bella. I'm not perfect. I get angry and I have a right to. Just so it's been said explicitly—I'm human. I get angry, not often, but I do. And ever since I've become this new… me, I've fought all my instincts to be what you want because I want you that much. I've dealt with girls seeing nothing of me except what they look at, treating me like I'm the second coming simply because I can get them coming a second time. All because you told me you wanted a guy who was a sure thing. One who girls talked about. And now I'm some sort of monster that voodoos people against their will into sleeping with him."
"That's not… I didn't mean to imply that it was against anyone's will. God knows those girls were more than willing." She muttered her last sentence, almost as if she didn't want Edward to hear.
"But that's what you implied. Yet again you're saying things and you're not getting that someone is listening. I don't just hear what you say, Bella. I listen to you. I told you before, I get you. But you're still not listening to me," he said quietly. The words hung in the air like the heavy rainclouds of the night, casting grey, dreary shadows. "I know I've made mistakes. But, 'what is life but a series of inspired follies?'"
"What?" Bella asked, bewildered.
"It's a quote from Pygmalion, actually."
"Why don't you stop using other people's words and just say what's on your mind for once, Edward?"
Edward's head jerked up to look at her. "Fine," he said, nostrils flaring slightly. "What's on my mind is that this is not a perfect situation. And that yes, I made some mistakes. But so have you, Bella. I really think you should just get past this; and I promise, I swear to you, Bella, that I'll never look at another girl again. Through all of this… fuckery—"
"Literally," Bella acerbically interrupted.
Edward nodded and accepted her comment. He placed his hand gently on top of hers. When he spoke again, his voice was a thoroughly trademark mix of strong, soft and sweet. "I've never lost sight of you, Bella. You're the only one I see. Why would I even need to look at another girl, if I had you?"
Their eyes met and perhaps for the first time, Bella really looked at Edward. And in his eyes, she saw pictures of pretty promises and promising potential paths. But she had to look away. Maybe she hadn't seen him before, but now she couldn't look at him without thinking of all the girls who, despite his coercion to the contrary, may have looked and seen the same things. How many had been tossed aside, forgotten for the next, how many had even been given a first, let alone second thought in his dedicated decimation to get to her?
Sensing a shift in the mood, Edward sighed. He didn't know what words to say to convince her, what words could make her his, what words were the right words. So instead, he said the wrong ones. "Aren't you even a little glad that you have someone who is willing to do all this, just for you?"
"Just for me?" Bella thundered. The storm had ceased outside but now raged between the two of them, Edward's lightning-quick answers and crooked reasoning provoking her even more. "Yes, because you didn't enjoy it at all."
"I admit that it got a little… out of hand. But for the first time, Bella, people were seeing me. Maybe for the wrong reasons, but they looked at me. Noticed me. I wasn't an afterthought distracting them from what was over my shoulder. And I know, Rose—that really wasn't supposed to happen, but she was so sad and I still didn't even know if you had even noticed me. You still barely talked to me… I know it's not an excuse… if you could just push that aside…"
"Push that aside? Fine, I push Rosalie, one of my best friends, aside, but what about Victoria? What about Jane and Didyme? Or should I expect threesomes?"
"Like I said, I got carried away. But desperate times call for drastic measures. I wanted to be good enough for you, and then somewhere along the way, I began to be good enough for myself. I know, Bella, I know all the girls are a little hard to get past, but you have to believe me when I said, you're the only one who matters. You're the only one I'm real around, the only one I'm me around." There was no mistaking it this time, Edward was pleading. His erstwhile irritation at her had melted and his golden eyes were no longer flashing, instead glinting with feverous vulnerability.
But Bella was still steaming. Timing was everything—perhaps if she had known that this was what Edward was doing, if she wasn't so embarrassed of her foolish accusation and angry about his behavior, but moreover, his cock-eyed reasoning, she would have been able to forgive him. But now, even as he was confessing to her that she was the only one, she couldn't forget the fact that she wasn't the only one—not by a long shot. And his pleading words of devotion to her were only further irking her ire.
"…only you, Bella," he was saying. "I only ever wanted to be good enough for you. To be the man who made you feel good, right from your very first time."
And in an almost fated, fatuous frenzy, Bella decided that she wanted Edward to feel the same disappointment that she did. And so she told him her deepest secret.
"If you wanted to be the man to make me feel good," she said, "right from the first time, you're a little late." His eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he comprehended her meaning. "I slept with Jasper at the end of last summer, before he went back to Chicago." And with that, she stood and left the room, not glancing back at the dumbfounded, devastated Edward she left in her wake.
As always, thank you for reading. Just the epilogue left now. Reviews, whether revolted, raging or redeeming, are more than welcome. I handle whatever it is you have to say (I think).
Oh and even though it's rather obvious: if, for some reason, you need to categorize and/or summarize this story, I ask that you list it as 'AU and/or AH' as to not give away the ending. Much appreciated.