December 23, 2010
I find a box of forgotten possessions in the back of Edward's – I mean my – walk-in closet. It's not very big and is stuffed with the few things I left behind when I took off. I've never been able to afford much in the way of the material things, but I left so suddenly I didn't have time to grab everything.
When I ran into Jacob with my duffle slung over my shoulder, I instructed him to tell Alice to give the rest to Goodwill.
She didn't listen, apparently.
This little trip down memory lane is really not wanted at the moment.
I spent the night with Edward. Again. Edward ran away. Again.
Why is it that I seem incapable of progress? I just keep making the same stupid mistakes.
I know I have to tell him everything, but it's incredibly difficult when he won't even fucking talk to me.
In the box of Bella past, I find mostly clothes: a sweater, a hoodie, and a pair of jeans, none of which were my favorites anyway. There's a shit ton of books, novels, and the occasional text book. I smile as I run my fingers lovingly over the spines of my favorites. The greats reside in this box- Shakespeare and Austen, Hurston and Cervantes, Dickens and Winterson, Twain and Woolf.
Edward has read every one that I asked him to. We would stay up late, sipping on tea and discussing and fucking.
I miss him.
Stupid, fucking Alice. Keeping all this crap and making me feel.
Her Christmas party is tonight. I'm really not in the mood to be social, to pretend that everything is okay. That I'm a happy, normal person that likes happy, normal people.
I fucking hate the people.
Not Edward, though.
Damn it.
The pictures make me feel even worse than the books. The visual proof of my once-ignored happiness is staring at me. I look peaceful with Edward in the photos. How did I not see it at the time?
The box does not make me feel better - I doubt anything can. But at least I find a fuck hot dress to wear tonight.
After two years away, I feel totally fucking different, so I shouldn't be surprised that Alice's Annual Christmas Extravaganza has changed, too. The decorations and formal dress code are the same, but the people are different.
In the past, the party has been about getting shit-faced and letting loose. The crowd was all college kids, and they did college kid things. Two years ago, I would have considered everyone in attendance a friend.
This year, all I see is a bunch of grown-ups. Though there are a few familiar faces, these adults are mostly strangers.
I get dressed in Edward's room. I still think of it this way, even though technically it's mine now. I'm anxious to see him, so I dress extra carefully. The vintage midnight blue dress is a sweetheart cut with wide straps and a cinched waist. Alice gave it to me for my twentieth, and I can't remember ever wearing it. It ends above my knee, and my legs are killer in my tall, pewter heels. I keep my hair down and my makeup natural, because I know what Edward likes. It feels a little strange; dressing for a boy is not something I've consciously done before. But I've thrown out all the old rules now. Edward is worth it.
I descend the stairs just as the party starts, feeling immediately out of place because I don't know any of these people. They're all work friends. Emmett and Rose are talking jovially with three men in suits and two flashy women. Alice and Jasper are nowhere to be seen, and I don't know how the others will introduce me to their friends, so I loiter awkwardly by the base of the stairs until the blond man notices me.
"Hello there," he says, beckoning to me from across the room. "I don't recognize your face."
It's an odd thing to say, but I feel so isolated and insecure, I jump on his invitation to join the group. Rosalie looks mildly annoyed, while Emmett doesn't look at me at all. They continue their conversation as if I don't exist.
"I'm Collin," he says, shaking my hand. He stands a little too close and his gaze lingers on my tits a little too long.
"Bella," I reply, removing my hand from his.
"Bella," he repeats with a smile. "How fitting. That means beautiful in Italian."
Rosalie snorts as I try not to roll my eyes. Already, this guy is laying it on pretty thick. "Yeah, so I've been told."
"Are you new to this crowd?" he asks, eyes still roaming a little too freely over my figure. I glance at the door, willing Edward to arrive. "There is no way I would have forgotten that face."
"No, not new at all," I reply. My tone is borderline rude, and I remind myself to be polite. This is a nice, mature, grown-up party, and I must be civilized. "Actually, we go way back." I nod towards Em and Rose, who are still talking with the rest of the group.
"Really? How do you know the hosts?"
"Alice and I were roommates our freshman year of college," I explain, looking at his glass of wine with envy. More people start to trickle in, but none of them are my Adonis. "Rose and I have known each other since middle school."
"Bella… Right, Bella. I think I've heard about you. The resident wild child, huh?"
"I suppose," I mutter through my blush. Whatever this man has heard about me, I know it's not complimentary.
"Emmett has a thousand Isabella stories. Usually they involve injury or punching."
I begrudgingly laugh at that. "We had a real good time in college," I reply. "So how do you know our hosts?"
"I work with Emmett at Whole Foods. I'm in customer service. And what is it you do?"
"I'm actually between jobs at the moment," I say, glancing at the door again. It opens, and this time I recognize Kate and Garrett. I'm in no rush to catch up with the pair, so I turn back to Collin. "My last job was at a bookstore, but what I really want to do is write."
"Really? Are you looking for a new job, then?" he asks.
"Yes. Well, sort of. I just got back to town a couple days ago, and I haven't really started to actively look, but I'm going to after Christmas."
"Well," he says, reaching into his jacket pocket and emerging with a business card. "Whole Foods is looking for someone in P.R. It would be just writing press releases and memos mostly, but give me a call after the holiday. We'll set something up."
I beam at him and accept the card. We chat for a few moments, and he introduces me to the rest of the group. Everyone works with Emmett, and I'm glad that Rosalie just ignores me rather then being a total bitch. I make a joke, and Collin laughs loudly, placing a hand on my shoulder.
Of course, this is the moment Edward steps through the door with a tan, dark-haired beauty gripping his arm. Collin's voice morphs to buzzing in my ear as I focus on the smiling couple. They separate after crossing the threshold. Edward helps the woman remove her jacket, before shimmying out of his own and laying both carefully on the living room couch that is serving as a coat rack. He runs a hand through his hair as I take him in.
He wears khaki pants and black leather shoes with a white button-up, a black tie, and a hunter green vest. Edward is so beautiful, my heart aches. The elastic bands are back, urging me to go to him, but my feet remain fucking planted.
I'm scared that I've broken him. This Edward is cynical and pessimistic and yells. I don't want to destroy him further, but I can't live without him.
I'm at a total fucking loss.
His companion smiles as she whispers something in his ear. She is crazy gorgeous in her deep red dress that lies over tan skin. Her hair is long and straight, and her almond-shaped eyes look just like honey.
Her hand is on Edward's shoulder, and I wish I possessed vampire-like abilities. Her hand would be removed from her body before she could come in contact with his bicep.
Edward's smile disappears the moment he locks onto my gaze. Even though he hates me right now, the rest of the party ceases to exist. I forget to breathe as he scorches me with those fucking green eyes of his. I don't know if its lust or hate or love or a combination of the three, but Collin says my name multiple times before I reply.
"I'm sorry," I say, reluctantly tuning back into the conversation. "What was that?"
"Do you want to get a drink?" he asks, looking at me quizzically.
"Fuck yes," I reply, forgetting that I'm at an adult party, and such words are unacceptable.
Collin laughs and guides me to the kitchen with a hand on my back. I feel Edward's eyes boring into the back of my skull until I turn the corner and disappear from his sight.
October 14, 2005
"What's the matter, baby Bells?" Jake asks from my side. We are lying shoulder to shoulder on the top of a grassy hill, passing a joint back and forth in a routine that calms me with its familiarity.
"What makes you think somethins' the matter, Jakey?" I close my eyes and feel like my body is melting into the earth. I like it. I like being the earth. It's a vast improvement to being me. Bella Swan, the unlovable. Bella Swan, the ruiner of Edward Cullen.
He's just my opposite, and I'm soiling him for a couple of orgasms.
Okay, a lot of really, really, really mind bogglingly triumphant orgasms.
God.
"You're real quiet this afternoon." His voice infiltrates my consciousness and threatens to pull me out of my fragile peace. My fingers run over the prickly green grass as I try to stay grounded.
"Deep in thinkin' mode," I explain. "That's all."
"You know, I barely ever see you these days." I hear him roll next to me, probably to face me, and he plays with my hair. I want to tell him to stop, that I only want one person playing with my hair. But that feeling is irrational, unexplainable, so I keep my mouth shut.
"You're seein' me now," I murmur, accepting the joint from Jake for seemingly the zillionth time.
"You're always with Edward Cullen. I don't like it."
"I don't give a flying fuck if you don't like it. It's none of your damn business." My whole body tenses for a moment, but I feel the grass and the earth and relax again. "He's my friend," I continue, trying to convince both of us.
"So you say. You're still fucking him, aren't you?" After months of hiding Edward from my best friend, Jake happened upon Edward and me canoodling at a party a couple of weeks ago. Of all the parties in all of Boulder, the universe sent Jake and me to the same one. This is the first time I've been alone with him since he caught me with my hand down Edward's pants in a dark corner.
"A little bit," I answer. What a stupid fucking thing to stay.
"You're fucking him a little bit?"
"Okay," I admit. "A lot bit. There has been a lot of fucking."
"Since when?" he asks.
"Since when what?" I'm being purposely obtuse to avoid this line of questioning. "And you're killing my buzz."
"How long have you been fucking Cullen?" Jake growls out.
I roll to face him and stare at the irate face of my oldest friend. He looks pissed and hurt, and I don't understand it. We stopped being jealous of each other's hook-ups long ago. He gets it. Gets me. Gets that I can't do the whole boyfriend, committed relationship route. He has just as much random, meaningless sex as I do. He didn't get upset when I fucked our friend Sam the summer before college.
"Pretty much since the beginning of the semester," I admit begrudgingly.
"Why? Is he that good?" he says with a snort, his eyes narrowing at me.
I take a moment to fantasize about just how good Edward is, and Jake catches the lustful look on my face. He huffs and looks horrified.
"But he's such a fucking dweeb," Jake continues. "What the fuck do you even talk about?"
"We don't do a lot of talking, Jakey." This is not exactly true at all, actually, but fucking is what Jake understands. He is already freaked out enough that I'm spending so much time with Edward. He doesn't need to know the details.
Truthfully, Edward and I do as much talking as we do fucking. It's weird, and Jake certainly doesn't need to know about it.
"Is he better than me?" he demands.
"We are so totally not having this conversation," I say, sitting up and gathering my crap.
"We so totally are!" he yells back, grabbing my wrist to keep me from stalking away. "I thought… shit."
"Thought what, Jakey?" I ask, placing a hand on his large shoulder in my concern. He just looks so distraught.
"I thought that the reason that we're not together because you don't do boyfriends ,or long term, or anything like that," he says. "Yet here you are, spending months fucking Cullen. In a relationship with the motherfucker."
"We aren't in a relationship. We're just fucking, not walking down the aisle or some shit. He isn't my boyfriend or anything."
"Are you sure about that, Bells?" he asks, frowning at me.
I nod in response.
"He's not your usual type. He's a fucking nerdy college kid. He doesn't even smoke, for fuck's sake! Plus, you never stay with the same dude for so long. You don't do boyfriends, and you don't do commitment. You don't want to be with me, but I always thought it was because you just didn't work that way. But if you change your mind…"
I stare at Jake in horror. "I'm not going to change my mind," I say in a rush. "Jake, you are my soul sibling, my brother from another mother, my best friend for all eternity. But the romance part of our relationship will never be. You're going to find an amazing girl who won't put up with your shit."
"You don't put up with my shit," he grumbles, absently picking at the green grass by his feet.
"Edward's just a fuck," I say again, even though it makes my tummy hurt inexplicably.
"Whatever you say, Bella," he says, rising and extending a hand to me. I take it, allowing him to pull me to my feet. "Longboarding?"
"Totally," I agree with a grin. A long board is Jake's preferred mode of transportation, and there is something freeing about flying down the hills in Boulder. I'm supposed to meet Edward later, but I see no harm in being a little late. He's just a fuck, after all.
An hour and a half later, I'm in the ER, and my wrist is bent at an awkward angle. I wish I could say this is the first time it's happened, but alas- I've always been fucking accident-prone.
They shuffle me upstairs to a room where they test my brain because apparent, I hit my head when I fell.
I fucking hate hospitals. I hate feeling weak and out of control. And- though I would never admit it- scared too. I feel surrounded by the presence of death, and the thought makes my skin crawl.
They wrap my wrist in a cast and still don't let me leave. They say I might have a concussion, and I have to spend the night. I'm so angry, but mostly the mad is just a cover for the absolute panic I feel at the thought of staying the night with the sterile white linoleum and polluted oxygen and dead people.
I want to call Edward and then I get mad at myself for being weak enough to want to call him in the first place. Grabbing the remote control, I turn on the shitty little TV suspended from the ceiling and begin rapidly changing the channels, just for something to do.
Also, to keep myself from crying.
I want to call Renee too, but that makes me even madder than when I wanted to call Edward. My thumb moves more frantically on the channel changing button. I hate myself. I hate this hospital. I hate my mom for leaving and Edward for making me feel too much.
I keep my eyes on the TV to keep myself from crying like a fucking pansy.
So, of course, it's at this moment that my favorite velvet voice speaks from the doorway.
"How can you even see what's on the television?" he asks, sounding genuinely curious.
I'm both relieved and horrified that he's here. I want him to pull me into his arms and kiss my temple and make everything better.
"Fuck you," I hiss, refusing to look at him. If I see him, I'm going to completely lose it.
I hate myself more for wanting him and letting him have the power over me to make it better. He has never seen me this pathetic. This vulnerable. This weak.
"How are you doing?" he asks softly. His sneakers squeak on the grey floor as he moves across the room to sit next to my bed. Still, I don't look at him.
"Fuckin' great. I'm all sunshine and rainbows and puppies. How the fuck do you think I'm doing?" I snap because I can't help it. He needs to leave. Right the fuck now. I don't want him to see me like this. I don't want to want him here.
He sighs heavily as if I'm a fucking child, throwing a temper tantrum. Which is really pretty accurate, though I don't like him regarding me that way.
"What happened?" he asks, reaching out to touch me. I shimmy away from his hand and almost fall off the opposite side of the bed in my desperation to get away from him. If he touches me, I'll completely lose it.
"Broke my wrist," I mutter, eyes still fixated on the rapidly changing channels on the television.
"Yes, I got that." He is losing patience with me, and for whatever reason, this only pisses me off further. "How did you break your wrist?"
"I fell."
"Bella…"
"God, can you just shut the fuck up?" I hiss, tossing the remote across the room in my frustration.
"Fine." Out of the corner of my eye, I see him lean back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest and looking distraught.
I recognize that I'm being a total fucking bitch, but I can't seem to stop. It's for his own good. Maybe now he will see who I really am. I'm not good. I'm not lovable. And it's time Edward understands this.
Why is he still here? How did he even know to find me here?
"Is your mom around? Or Jacob, maybe?" Edward asks after a few moments of silence.
"Fuck, no," I say.
"She would want to know you're in the hospital- that you're okay," he says quietly.
I huff and cross my arms over my chest.
"Why didn't you call her?" he continues. My fists clench in my anger at him and me and this fucking hospital. Slowly, I turn to him, choosing to ignore the hurt and trepidation in his eyes that already see too much.
"I didn't fucking call her because I didn't fucking want her here!" I burst out.
"And why didn't you call me?" he asks, looking into his lap.
"Why in the fuck would I even fucking think to fucking call you?" My voice steadily rises in volume and pitch in my hysteria. He needs to get the fuck away from me. Right the fuck now.
"Bella—"
"No!" I say, cutting off his attempt to pacify me. "There is no fucking reason for me to call you. You aren't my boyfriend. You're some dude I'm fucking. That's it."
"Really, Bella?" he demands, frowning at me. "Are you still that much in denial?"
"Fuck you."
"It's been four months, Bella," he says with a strained voice. "We go out. We aren't seeing anyone else. You care about me, as I do you. Why are you still fighting it?"
"I can't fucking believe I'm hearing this. I knew you couldn't fucking handle the fucking. I told you – fucking told you – again and again that it was just sex. Nothing has changed." I sputter at him and try not to cry.
"Bullshit. You're lying, to me and to yourself."
Of course I am. Why won't he leave?
"I'm not fucking lying! You're not my fucking boyfriend, and I don't fucking want you here." I'm yelling to keep from crying. I think.
"You don't mean that," he says, looking down again.
"STOP FUCKING TELLING ME WHAT I FUCKING MEAN!" I yell, punching a pillow because Edward is too far away to punch, and I don't like hurting him anyway. "You always do that. Make assumptions about me based on I don't even fucking know what- science or observation or some bullshit. You aren't listening. You aren't my boyfriend. You will never be my boyfriend. YOU ARE NOT IMPORTANT! The only reason I keep you around is because of the things you do with your cock, but it's not even worth it anymore. Dealing with your motherfucking emotional shit. So fuck you and your fucking misperceptions and get the fuck out!"
He looks heartbroken, and I'm glad because he finally sees how I am. This is it. I'm not good for him, and I'm glad he's coming to understand that.
But then he slowly stands and walks out the door. Just like I asked. He leaves. The moment I lose sight of him, I really do lose it. I cry harder than I have since Renee left, and somehow this seems much worse. Even if it had to be done.
Two weeks out of the hospital, and Jake forces me to go out. I don't think I've left campus since then, nor have I had any interaction with Edward. I go to class, smoke, go back to my dorm room, smoke, go back to class, smoke, back to my room. I do my job as an RA like a zombie. Occasionally, Angela forces me into the dining hall. I think I've only showered twice, and strangers look at me with fear.
I guess one could say that I'm wallowing.
Couldn't say why, though. Just in a funk, I suppose.
That's what I tell Jake when he badgers me incessantly about going to a party at Paul's. I tell him I'm not up for dealing with the old high school crowd, but he scoffs at me and says he doesn't even recognize me.
Also, I haven't really been sleeping. I can't fill up the bed on my own, and somehow this keeps me from sleeping.
I obviously need a change.
So I snap out of it and agree. I need to get back to old Bella. Back to the old distractions. I can't depend on anyone for happiness, least of all myself, so I decide to go back to the way things used to be. The biggest problem, far as I can tell, is forcing myself to be interested in all those not-Edward distractions.
There are sure to be plenty at the party tonight.
I obviously can't handle being a one-man kinda gal. I really fucking failed at that, but there is no use wallowing.
After a shower- during which I wash my hair at least three times to make up for the last two weeks, I dress carefully in a tight, strapless grey dress with a wide yellow belt. I attempt to calm my hair, but my work has the opposite effect and my locks are more wild than usual. The look is completed with smoky eyes, red lips, and Chucks.
Jake and I smoke up as we walk to Paul's place on The Hill.
"Drink up, baby Bells," Jake says, handing me a red Solo cup full of some sort of Sunny D concoction when we arrive. It looks and smells repulsive, but I chug the whole thing in one disgusting gulp and stick it towards Jake for a refill.
"Shit. I didn't expect you to take my advice quite so literally," he says with a chuckle. I shrug and scan the crowd for tonight's distraction. It's an old, familiar routine. It should be comforting, but in reality, it's more depressing.
Jake slings his arm around my shoulders and leads me to the kitchen.
"Bella! Hey, guuurlll." Paul launches himself at me, and I half-heartedly return his hug. He's never been my favorite of the neighborhood boys I went to high school with. He smells like rum and vomit. "Long time no see. Where you been?"
"Around," I reply, eyeing the bottles and shot glasses lined up on the kitchen counter.
"Not anywhere I've been, am I right Jake?" Paul says, elbowing my best friend. Jake shakes his head but still looks amused at my obvious distaste for Paul. "When was the last time you were at a party?"
"Couple weeks," I reply, giving in and pouring myself a double of whiskey.
"Hey, Bella." I turn my head after I take my shot to see Jake's older sister, Rachel, approach. She's been dating Paul for the last three years, much to the displeasure of Jake. I don't really get the pairing. Rachel is chill and cool, and Paul is a giant dick.
"Hello, Rach," I reply, giving her a brief one-armed hug. "How's the new job?"
"Lame, corporate bullshit," she scoffs, ignoring her drunk-ass boyfriend who's handing all over her. "But I'm really enjoying the paycheck. Being a grown up is weird."
"Wouldn't know," I reply with a chuckle.
"Of course you wouldn't. You have the emotional range of a four-year-old." The voice coming from behind me has my eye twitching in loathing. I know that nasally drawl.
"Fuck you very much, Victoria," I say brightly as the red-headed witch slides up next to me. Her huge, curly hair is combed into a fro, and her ice-blue eyes are narrowed at me in dislike. I take in her truly whorish wardrobe and see that she really hasn't changed. She wears ripped fishnets, sliver stilettos, and a shiny purple mini dress with strategic cutouts.
Slut.
I glance around for someone to save me, but they've all abandoned me, not wanting to deal with our old rivalry.
"Paul's right. We haven't seen much of you since this summer. Not that you've been missed in the slightest." She scowls down at me, and I wish for six inches in height. I hate that she's taller than me.
And that sure as fuck isn't all I hate about Victoria. We've been frenemies since middle school. Actually, just straight up enemies is more accurate. Rosalie was the one thing forcing us to be civil towards each other. Usually, I go out of my way to avoid her.
The fact that I hung out with her boyfriend several times last summer probably hasn't helped improve our relationship.
"So where have you been, Bella? Stealing people's boyfriends?"
Victoria and I have a long, bloody history of fighting over the same boys, though she always got a lot more emotional about the whole thing.
"Give it a rest, Victoria," I say quietly, finishing the rest of my drink. "Can't we all just get along?"
"Get along? Is that what you call it now? I would call it fucking everything that moves," she says, smiling sweetly and batting her fake eyelashes.
"Fuck you," I respond with venom. And she's one to fucking talk. The girl fucked the majority of our class, back in the day.
"Oh, that's right. I've heard you're a one-man woman these days," she says with a smirk as I refrain from kicking her in the shins. My stomach bubbles at the allusion to Edward, and my skin goes cold at the look in her eye.
And I was doing such a good job, pretending that Edward doesn't exist. That I don't miss him.
"Rosalie said you have a geeky new boyfriend. Oh how the mighty have fallen," Victoria croons wistfully.
"I have no fucking clue what the fuck you're prattling on about," I reply, pleased that I'm successfully playing it cool while I die internally.
"Yes, you fucking do. You've gone all soft and squishy," she accuses. I swat away the finger she's waving in my face and wish I could physically remove it from her hand.
"What the fuck?" I say, getting pissed now. I'm just as badass as I've always been. Nothin' soft or fucking squishy about me.
"I met him once," Victoria continues. "Ran into him and his brother on Pearl Street. I must say, he's banging. If you're saying he's single now, I'll have to look him up." She pops the motherfucking P, and my hands ball into fists at my side for a moment before I pour myself another shot. And another. "I'd love to get my hands in that perma sex hair. Does he have a big cock? I bet he has a big cock."
And that is more than I can handle. I'm on the verge of a girl fight, and fucking Victoria knows it if the smirk on her face is any indication.
"Go work a corner, you cock-sucking lunatic," I tell her before I excuse myself to pour another drink. It's a miracle I get out of the situation with no violence.
An hour later, I've met Riley and have my flirty voice on.
"So Bella. That's a good name for you. Means beautiful in Italian," he says, leaning towards me and tracing a finger down my bare arm.
"So I've been told," I reply, looking up at him from beneath my eyelashes and resting a hand on his chest. "Tell me, what does Riley mean?"
"Beast in bed," he whispers in my ear. I roll my eyes but force a giggle anyway.
"Excellent," I say with a low exhale.
He leans in to kiss me, and my gaze flicks up across the room. I almost tip over when I'm met with angry emerald eyes.
Edward's leaning against the opposite wall, surrounded by people I know from high school. He stands next to an anxious-looking Alice. But most alarming, Victoria is all up on him. Her head is pillowed on his shoulder, and her talon rests on his muscled stomach. In my drunken state, the contrast of her red hair on his black t-shirt makes me feel like I'm the brink of voming all over this generic frat boy.
With reaction time slowed down by booze and weed, I let him kiss me. My mouth moves against his on its own volition. They're on autopilot, but my eyes never leave Edward's. His face falls, and he looks crushed. A moment later he pulls away from Victoria.
Riley grinds against me, groaning slightly, as my eyes follow Edward's departure. I lose sight of him and jerk away. Suddenly, I find myself desperately maneuvering through the party, towards the bathroom door behind which Edward disappeared.
I need him. Must have him right the fuck now.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I slowly push open the door. It's not locked, and I take this as a sign that he wants me to follow, as irrational as that may be.
His posture is defeated, and I hate myself a little more for hurting someone so good. With hands grasped on counter, he bows his head. His shoulders are slumped in misery, and I have to fix it. I am going to fucking die if I can't fix it.
I lock the door. The last thing I need is Victoria happening upon us and ruining everything.
With slow, silent steps, I warily approach him and rest a tentative hand on his back. Edward's whole body shudders at my touch, and I can't tell if he's relieved or angry that I followed him here.
"Who the fuck was that guy?" he demands in a low voice without turning around or really moving at all. I'm sure he can tell it's me by the electricity that flows between us whenever we're in the same room.
"No one important," I reply, mimicking his hushed tones as I take a step further and press myself into his back. Laying my head down, I curve my body around his bent form and breathe him in.
There is no smell like Edward, and the lack of it in my life was driving me insane.
"Kinda like how I'm not important?" He's trying to come off as pissed, but really he just sounds hurt.
And that's all me. I did that to him. I should just walk away now, before I inevitably hurt him more, but I can't.
"I shouldn't have said that," I reply in a rush. "I didn't mean it. You're very important to me. Too important."
His exhales loudly and leans closer to the countertop.
"Then why did you say it?" he slurs as I nuzzle into his back to get courage from his comforting Edward smell.
"Cause I was scared. I didn't want you to see me like that." It's not something I would ever admit sober, but I seem to be without a filter tonight. The lack of Edward in my life for the last two weeks has really sent me into a tailspin.
He doesn't say anything, though I can feel his frantic heart beat against my chest. It matches my own.
Overcome with a desire to see him, I slip around him and sit on the counter between his hands which are still clenched on the tile. I pull his head to my chest, hugging him tightly. I don't breath until his arms come around me.
I always feel so safe in his arms. He's at least double my size, so I feel so secure, protected. But maybe that's just Edward.
After several minutes, Edward pulls back. I keep my hands on his shoulders. He'll disappear if I stop touching him, I fear.
"I can't fucking do this anymore, Bella," he says, almost causing me to pass out from the painful idea of him no longer being in my life. "You need to give me something."
"I can't be your girlfriend, Edward," I whimper somewhat pathetically. "I just… can't."
"I know. I understand." I don't totally believe him. How could he possibly understand if I don't even fucking understand? "But you have to give me something."
I quickly wrap my legs around his waist, and bring our hips together. He's forced to steady himself with a hand on the mirror behind me, and I thrust forward slightly, trying to get closer to the hardness I feel between his legs.
This is the one thing I can give him. I can make him feel good.
He groans and rests his forehead against mine.
"I can't fucking even think about you touching other guys," he growls. "But you aren't my girlfriend, so you can be with whoever you want."
"I only want you," I answer with conviction. "And I saw fucking Victoria all up on you, too."
"Is that her name?" he asks, sounding puzzled.
"I only want you," I repeat. "And you only want me. And as long as we both feel that way, we will only see each other. How does that sound?"
"Good," he sighs, his hands moving from the counter to grip my hips. "Really good."
"Then that's how it's going to be," I whisper, bringing my lips closer to his. "And you're important. Very important. Let's just pretend I didn't say all that."
"Bella—"
"Please. Please, Edward. I've missed you these last two weeks," I say quickly, sensing he's about to say something I don't want to hear.
"I've missed you, too," he admits with a heavy sigh. I lay my head against his neck and close my eyes as I trace my fingers through his hair. Thank baby Jesus that he's letting me touch him. "But I'm still fucking pissed off at you! For the hospital, and for that shithead you kissed out there."
"Then be mad," I prompt, pulling him aggressively toward me again. I get my hands under his t-shirt and rake my fingernails down his back, causing him to hiss. "Show me just how you feel."
He's going to argue, so I cut him off with a searing kiss. Edward's hands tighten on my hips, and he groans into my mouth as he lets go- lets the shivers and two weeks of repressed emotion take over.
He kisses me back, hard enough that in the still functioning part of my brain, I wonder if he's drawn blood. I'm oddly turned on by the idea, but all coherent thoughts are banished as Edward's hands insistently yank down the top of my dress and his mouth latches onto my chest. Arching into his lips, I throw my head back into the mirror behind me. It hurts, but again, I enjoy the pain.
He bites me again, and I gasp as he moves to suck on my collarbone. It's sure to leave a mark, and I'm shockingly pleased by this. We both need a little outward display of possession after our brief and unbearable time apart.
Edward reaches under the skirt of my dress and groans against my skin when he finds me already dripping and ready. He whips my underwear off my legs with surprising speed and grace and has my moans reaching a frantic pitch as he works me with his fingers.
Desperate for him to feel even a fraction of what I feel, I reach for his fly. I manage to get the stubborn zipper down, but the moment I get my hands around him, he manacles my wrist in a large hand and holds them above my head on the mirror.
I gasp at his assertiveness and get impossibly wetter.
He's torturing me, bringing me to the absolute brink with his lips on my neck and his hand between my legs, and then backing off before the angels sing and trumpets sound.
It seems like I have no bones in my body even as my belly muscles quiver and tighten. My skin is sizzling, and I can't seem to keep quiet, even though there is a party full of people I went to high school with out there.
Nothing out there matters at all.
"Please!" I beg finally as he takes me to new heights. "Oh… Please, Edward, don't… don't stop… I need… I need you."
At my words, Edward growls – fucking growls – before lifting me off the counter and slamming me up against a nearby empty wall. The sink was in the way in our previous location, and I barely have time to process the location change when Edward pushes into me.
Holy fuck.
Screaming his name, I come right the fuck then. But he allows me no recovery time, and all I can do is hold on. His pace is furious, and I see stars for the second time as he calls my name, joining me.
Exhausted, he leans forward, pressing me even more firmly against the wall. His arms wrap firmly around my lower back, keeping me with him even as my legs fall from his waist.
We don't speak as our breathing settles, but he kisses me with excruciating tenderness. I cradle his jaw and whimper into his mouth, suddenly feeling all these…these…feelings.
The emotions swirling in me are terrifying, but I'm too drunk and too satisfied and too relieved to be with Edward to do anything about them. Instead of listening to my head, telling me to pull away, I cling to him somewhat helplessly.
Eventually, Edward sets me down on unsteady feet but still keeps his arms around me. Good thing, too. His support is the only thing keeping me from falling on my ass.
"That was… that…" My tongue fumbles around drunkenly in my mouth as my brain struggles to conjure the adjectives to correctly describe the life changing sex that just happened.
"I'm sorry," Edward says abruptly, jumping away from me in an apparent panic. He leaves me leaning heavily on the wall with my dress bunched around my waist and my tits hanging out of my strapless bra. "Did I hurt you?"
"Mahumph?" Stupid, not-working brain.
He attempts to pace, but his jeans and boxers reside around his ankles, making it difficult.
"Did I hurt you, Bella?"
I blink at him, having no fucking clue what the fuck he is talking about.
"Bella," he groans out, stalking back over to me and taking my face in between his hands. "Please say something, sweetheart. Are you okay?"
"O…kay?" I'm firmly in la-la land. Struck stupid in a daze of orgasmic bliss.
What does okay even mean?
"You don't look okay. What's wrong?" His freak-out is beyond my realm of comprehension.
"I'm…amazing," I reply finally, unable to contain the smile that spreads across my face as my body continues to settle. "That was the single best sex I've had in the entirety of my life."
Edward looks confused for a moment before he smirks at me. Smirks! What happened to my fumbling, little-for-all-purposes virgin?
As cheesy and Madonna-esque as it sounds, I feel more like the virgin in this situation.
Edward kisses me firmly but quickly before pulling his pants back on. My fingers, much like my tongue and my stupid brain, are not working right, so Edward helps me straighten my dress and fix my hair.
I'm sure I look a hot mess, but I so totally do not fucking care.
Edward opens the door, and I step out of my new favorite bathroom, only to be met with applause.
Thirty-something people, many of whom I went to high school with, are scattered about the hall. Some look amused, some leer and some look pissed that they've had to hold it so I could get my orgasm on. They all stare, and most clap.
I blink at them in response.
Edward stands next to me, and the catcalls increase exponentially. My face flames as I look up at Edward, who has somehow managed to pull off the perfect balance between embarrassed and self-satisfied.
He puts an arm around my shoulders, and I bury my head in his chest.
"Take me home, Edward," I whisper.
He knows I mean the house on Goss not my characterless, Edward-less dorm room.
"So, what's the deal?" Rosalie asks as she applies yet another layer of fucking mascara. "You and Edward are back together?"
I shrug, refusing to look up from my novel as I recline on her bed.
"Answer the question, you snotty little bitch," she snaps, turning around at her vanity and brandishing her mascara at me.
"Well, when you ask so nicely," I reply.
"Seriously, Bella," Alice puts in as she emerges from Rosalie's closet with six pairs of earrings in her hands. The two of them are preparing for a night on the town with their menfolk. I don't have any desire to go anywhere but to bed with Edward. So that's what I'll do. The girls gave me a whole lot of shit for the decision to stay in, but I don't give a fuck. "I would like to know about your sudden reappearance in my brother's life as well. They fucked in a bathroom at that party we went to last week," she says, turning to Rosalie.
"At Paul's?" Rose shrieks, turning on her stool to gape at me again. "You dirty little whore. How do you not have a UTI? That house is a pit."
"And everyone heard everything," Alice continues as if I'm not even here. "People clapped when they came out. I've never seen anyone look that embarrassed."
"Who, Edward?"
"No," Alice says with a snort, "Bella. She was so red! Edward looked a little pleased with himself. It was weird."
"You were embarrassed?" Rosalie looks at me like she doesn't even recognize me. Which is valid, because I don't typically get embarrassed. True, I've never been applauded for my efforts, but I've had sex in far more public locations than a bathroom at a party. "Who are you?"
I sigh dramatically and cover my head with a pillow.
"Wouldn't do that if I were you," Rosalie says. "You don't know where it's been."
I squeal in disgust and hurl the offending object in Rosalie's general direction.
"You're a dirty slut, Rosalie Hale," I mutter.
"Fuck you. You are so much sluttier then me, slut."
She's the one in a red dress that should really be a shirt, while I'm in a pair of Edward's boxers – rolled up so they actually stay on my hips – and a tank top. I think our outfits win this argument for me.
I'm about to retaliate, but Alice interrupts me. "Enough. Let me get this straight. You said something horrible to him at the hospital, and then you didn't talk for two weeks. But then, you hooked up at this party, and now you guys are just miraculously back to normal? Whatever the hell normal even is for you two weirdos. Is that right?"
"Yeah, basically," I agree, really not wanting to talk about this anymore. My inexplicable need for Edward freaks me the fuck out, and I don't want to discuss or even think about it.
"Are you ready to admit that he's your boyfriend?" Rosalie asks with an evil grin.
"I don't fucking do boyfriends," I snap, thinking about throwing my book at her, but then I would have no choice but to engage in this obscene conversation.
"So, if you were going out with us tonight and some random propositioned him at the club tonight, he's allowed to take her home," Rosalie states, turning back to her mirror.
"Fuck, no." Everyone is surprised by the venom in my voice. "And we aren't going."
"But you could get with anyone you want tonight?" Alice clarifies. "If you were going, of course."
"No… We are exclusive. Just fucking each other."
"So you aren't dating? Just fucking?" Rosalie continues.
"Exactly."
Alice and Rosalie look at me and then each other for a moment before bursting out into hysterical laughter. Rosalie lays her head on the vanity and beats her palm against the counter. Alice doubles over, the earrings flying from her grasp.
"Fucking cocksuckers," I say, throwing more pillows. They don't even seem to fucking notice. Bitches. "I don't get it," I say when they finally get control.
"You've got it so bad," Rosalie says, looking smug.
"You're totally in denial," Alice chimes in.
I'm too shocked to even reply.
"Come on, single lady," Rosalie says, pulling me off her bed and towards the door.
I follow numbly, watching as Alice, Jasper, Rose, and Emmett all partake in pre-club drinks. Someone sticks a beer in my hand, and I try to look normal. They look normal, my friends. They have nice, normal relationships.
Sometimes it's so depressing, being around all this happy.
Edward slinks into the room, sweatpants low on his hips, glasses perched on his nose, Poisonwood Bible – a book I forced him to read – clutched in his hand.
How I spent two weeks without him, I do not fucking know.
"Hello, love," he whispers in my ear as he puts an arm around my shoulders. "You look beautiful."
"Same," I whisper back, running my fingertips over his jaw. "And don't call me love."
Yeah, I'm real glad to be staying in tonight.