A/N- more and more of you are finding your voices.....and its making us giddy, giddy and also slightly greedy, cause who wouldn't want more of your fantastic reviews? so maybe, just maybe, you all can keep it up. for our sanity and for the sake of our growing trophy case :)
off-the-deep-end continues to rock our socks and keep us grammatically correct, the real one two punch.
so no comment on anything you all wanted in the a/n. so i guess i'll keep rambling and hope you keep pushing that little green button...
***
There are a lot of goods and bads to sharing your bed. You hardly ever get cold, good. And, hell, I ran out of goods really fast. You usually stay up later than you normally would, bad (at least for work). That someone may occasionally use your toothbrush and or toothpaste, bad. You never have any time alone, mostly bad.
Suddenly a firm flick to the side of my head jerks me from my sleep deprived list.
"It's usually good when you mentally prepare for these meetings," Angela hisses. I shake my head and try to focus back in on the donator rambling on about whether or not he finds our foundation worthwhile enough to cut back to eight cars from seven. Seriously? Who the hell can feel good about depriving kids of music so that they can have another car in the garage, gathering dust?
At least this one found it endearing to travel to our office rather than us being in his stuffy home office uptown. My leg fidgets as he whips out his check book. I can't even take an ounce of happiness in the fact that he decided in favor of the kids and that's how I know that this day is shit.
I should have told Edward that pressing the snooze button actually slices my alarm. Maybe that way we wouldn't have been slamming into each other, in the painful not fun way, trying to get to work on time. And then he had a mini hissy fit about me putting on his work shirt from the day before and wearing it as a dress.
And it got worse from there. My Starbucks was closed for training, they don't need training, I like my Chai the way it is. And now this. Having to smile and stroke this massive ego when al I really want to do is snatch his checkbook and write checks to every charity that crosses my mind.
He finally finds his way to the door and I lay my head down in the desk. Angela closes the door behind him and stomps back over to me.
"I thought you and Edward worked things out," she states. I tilt my head to look at her. She should really focus on not frowning so much. I like her much better when she smiles.
"We did," I reply. She purses her lips and raises an eyebrow. Ugh. I can't even hide behind my short sided answers today. Will nothing go my way?
"I'm just not used to this whole share my bed, having someone around all the time thing," I sigh. Her face creases in confusion. I turn my face back into the desk and try to release tension by tapping my foot manically.
"Sharing your bed? What the hell Izzy? Did you sleep with him?" Angela asks. I ignore her for a moment and channel all my energy into making the jukebox in my mind play all of my favorites. A swift kick to my chair and me landing on my ass kills that buzz.
I glare up at Angela who now has her arms crossed over her chest.
"Sleep yes, several times. Sex, no, not yet," I stammer. Angela's mouth drops open and she drops to the floor next to me. She places both her hands on either side of my face.
"Iz, what have you done?" she whispers. This time I'm confused. Isn't this what she wanted? What they all wanted? Wasn't this the point of all those ridiculous interventions?
"What have I done? I listened to what YOU and Emmett and everyone else who couldn't mind their own damn business told me to do. I let him back in," I snap. I pull away from her hands and pout like a small child. You can't convince me that I am an idiot for not doing something and then scold me when I do.
"I meant for you to let him be your friend again Iz, not to let him feel you up in the dark," she shakes her head. I feel my face heat up at the reference. It wasn't dark, most of the lights were on and the tv and….
"Really Iz? Shit. This was the last thing either of you needed," she sighs. I pull even further from her, pushing myself up off the floor and towards the window. I focus on the people below and the dog getting ready to defile a bike.
"Because you know both of us SO well," I sneer. She slaps the ground as she follows my lead and stands. She comes to stand next to me, but faces me rather than the view.
"I know YOU and I know how much you like this guy no matter how much you want to deny it and I know that he just got out of a relationship and that doesn't sound like a good combination," she adds gently. I hate how her words root themselves in my mind and begin to grow other horrible doubts. Suddenly all I can see is Edward looking at me with an angry red number 23 stamped on his forehead.
I shake the image from my head and press my forehead against the glass. The past numbers parade in front of my closed eyes and I see each of their disappointed faces. I take several shuddering breaths. I feel Angela's hand press into my shoulder.
"I'm not saying it has to end badly, I'm just saying that this seems a little fast. Especially if you want this to work. And I know that's what you want right Iz?" she asks. I nod my head against the glass. That hasn't changed. I do want this to work. Because the one good of having someone sleep over might actually trump all the bad.
But things have been fast. Fast and at moments fantastic. Like the feel of his hands on me, not exactly something I want to move back from, but I should try harder. Think more about what this could mean. Actually try.
"You wanna go get a drink Ang? Just us girls?" I ask. She smiles enthusiastically.
"And celebrate that ass forking over the money?" she adds. I nod. This is what I need. A mental break from my obviously failing effort at whatever it is Edward and I are trying.
We walk out as the phone begins to ring and I gladly ignore. I am going to take a small break from reality courtesy of Patron.
***
I'm realizing now how completely dependent I've been on other people for my entire life. It started out with my mom who did everything for me. If we lived closer to each other, I'm fairly positive that she'd still be cooking and cleaning for me.
And then when I was in college living in the dorms… ah, well, the girls at school literally offered to pay my roommate and I for the honor of doing our laundry. I know, I know. But we were in a band and well… girls in college love boys in bands.
After that, Hannah and I got together. And well, I think it's pretty fair to say that Hannah did more than my mother even did for me.
I walk into the communal laundry room in my building with a bag full of dirty clothes. It's just that I have no clean underwear to wear. And while I think it's okay to send my work clothes to the cleaners, I draw the line at underwear and Hanes t-shirts. It's just a waste of money.
So here I am in the laundry room at six o'clock at night. I figured this would be the least humiliating time to do this. Nobody does laundry at this hour. They're all with their families or whoever eating dinner and talking about their days.
I put all of the clothes into the machine and… well, now what?
I look around the room and scratch the back of my neck.
This is going to be an issue.
I take my phone out and decide to call Bella. Maybe at some point during our conversation some magical instruction manual or fairy cleaning lady will appear.
It goes to voicemail. Great.
"Hey, it's me," I begin and start opening and closing the cabinets in the laundry room. "I'm realizing exactly how incompetent I am. Not only do I suck at choosing peaches, I also don't know how to do laundry." I blow out a frustrated laugh. "Shouldn't there be instructions or something on these machines? Anyway, give me a call later. Maybe you can come over? Okay, well, bye Bella's machine."
I hang up the phone and open the jackpot cabinet. There are bottles of soap. Now I just have to figure out which one's the right one. I choose one finally and pour it into the machine.
Now what do I do? I don't think I should just leave it here. Not that I think anyone would really steal my underwear, but still. There's something unsettling about leaving my clothes here for anyone to find.
I sit down on the floor and take my phone out again. I guess I should call my mom.
I dial and listen to it ring and then she answers. "Edward! Hi, sweetheart," she says and she sounds slightly out of breath but happy—the way only a mom can sound. "How are you? Is everything okay?"
I close my eyes and lean my head back against the wall. "Yeah, everything's fine. I'm just doing laundry."
She starts choking and I laugh. "You're doing laundry? You know how to?"
"Ha-ha," I say dryly but feel myself smiling. "I'm learning."
"Well, good for Hannah. I guess she finally realized that doing everything for you wasn't a good thing."
"Actually, we're not together anymore," I say quietly.
"You're not? What happened?"
"It just… it wasn't for me."
"She was rather…" she pauses, trying to think of a word. My mom always tried but she never got along with Hannah. "Well, serious, Edward."
That's one way of putting it, I guess. "Yeah. So what's going on? How are you and dad?"
"Ugh, well, your father has developed this new obsession with late night infomercials. He keeps ordering all of this crap from the TV." I laugh again. "And I'm good. Well, except for the fact that I never hear from my only son anymore."
"Sorry," I say and shake my head. "Things have been kind of crazy here."
"Are you really doing alright?" she asks, the concern thick in her voice.
"I've been doing a lot better," I offer. I don't bother lying to my mom anymore. I used to try but she could always tell so I just stopped trying. "I um actually met someone."
"Already?"
"Well, yeah, Bella was sort of the reason I broke up with Hannah."
"You cheated on her?" she asks me now and I can hear about to yell at me. "Edward, really—"
"No," I interrupt. "I wouldn't. I just… I haven't felt the way she makes me feel in a really long time." I trace patterns onto my jeans and she's just quiet, waiting for me to speak. "You know… since before… everything. I just… well, Bella just makes me feel like me again."
"Just be careful, sweetheart," she says softly. "I'm glad to hear that though. I actually saw Jasper's mom the other day at the market."
I clench my teeth. "Yeah?"
"She asked how you were doing. Said they'd like to see you if you're up for it."
"We'll talk about it later," I say and push myself up off of the floor. "I have to put my clothes in the dryer. I love you." And I hang up the phone quickly, taking deep breathes and clenching and unclenching my fists until my heart stops racing.
I can't be in this room anymore. I need to go somewhere. I want to see Bella. I want her to call me back. I just… I need her.
***
I stumble through my door and immediately drop my keys to the floor. I press my finger over my lips and shush them, immediately laughing at the action. This is what I needed tonight. I needed to get a good healthy buzz and not have anyone attached to my boob while I did it. I needed to feel like just Izzy again not Bella plus one. Not that Bella plus one is so bad, but Izzy has to be in a good headspace for Bella plus one to even have a glimmer of a chance.
I make my way to the stairs and fall face forward instantly. Again the giggles as I push myself up. I should just drink constantly to maintain this little high. Nothing can touch me, even pain is funny.
On the third step I stub my toe and can't stop the string of curses that fall from my mouth. Emmett's light flicks on and I hear him pounding across the floor. Shit. Not good. I sit on the step trying to stay out of sight. Apparently the railing doesn't offer much cover because Emmett spots me immediately and glares down at me from the top step.
"You know it's 2:45 in the morning right?" he asks. I think it's meant to be stern, but the sleep in his voice makes it come out lazy. I glance at my bare wrist and then back at him.
"No?" I try a smile and hope it will help. He rubs his hands over his short hair and down his face before stomping down the stairs and lifting me from my spot. I let him carry me like a rag doll content not to do anymore damage to myself or to the stairs.
He enters my room, the invisible boundary line having been long since smashed by Edward, and sets me on my bed. He takes a firm hold of my shoes and flicks them off not caring where they land.
"Where have you been lately? You're never here," I ask as I lean back and let the bed suck me in. He lands on the bed next to me and I wonder how my bed feels about all these new visitors. He turns to me and the bed groans voicing its opinion. It likes me best.
"I had this crazy conference upstate. Sucked ass really. In this dumpy hotel with no bar," he answers. I feel like that is something he probably told me before, but I was too busy painting my toenails or filling my IPod to really listen. I gaze up at the ceiling and really wish I had a fan. Something to distract my mind at this moment.
"I'm going back to bed. Not all of us can be self employed and justify going to work like the lush they are," he groans as gets up off the bed. I toss my balled up sweatshirt after him. It misses and I'm sure he didn't even notice the effort. Just as I settle back and prepare to let sleep chase off my buzz he pops his head back in the door.
"And check your damn machine will you? Damn phone rang all night," he insists. I glance over at the mentioned box and see the red light blinking. But, it's always blinking. Emmett's got a flare for the dramatic. I roll onto my stomach and reach as far as I can to hit the appropriate button.
Edward's mellow voice fills the room and I smile at his plights with laundry. For someone so seemingly intelligent he's missed a lot of menial lessons. I'll probably need to teach him how to ride a bike next. His voice fades out and I sigh and lick my overly dried lips.
When the next message begins I can hear the difference instantly. His voice is tense, his words less sure, stuttered. Not a good sign. He sighs his goodbye and I glance at my clock. It's three now, but he said to call him later. It's definitely later.
My fingers dance across the numbers and I hum a nonsense tune as I want for him to answer. I'm almost sure that he's asleep and going to miss the call, when I hear the familiar sound of a line picking up.
"Hello?" His words are gruff and laced with deep sleep. I chuckle at the sound and the image of him still in bed, his eyes closed and wishing I had just waited until morning.
"Hey love, I just didn't want you think I didn't call. Go back to sleep," I answer. I pull and tug at the image a bit more, but I can't get the finer details to come together. I've never seen his place.
"Bella?" He sounds confused at best, a little pissed at worst. I bite my lip. I should have waited.
"What time is it?" he asks. There is rustling over the phone and I am sure he is answering his own question. I sigh into the phone and close my own eyes.
"I shouldn't have called. You just really don't seem to like it if I don't call back when you ask, so I was trying to...be better?" I explain. At least that's what it's supposed to be. My buzz is fading fast and I wish I had something to bring it back.
"Is everything alright?" It's an obvious question. Why else would I be calling in the middle of the night? Unless I was the clearly crazy person I obviously am.
"It's fine, fantastic. I went out with Angela and we had some shots and danced and it was great," I let myself gush. Because it was great and it's easier to focus on that then everything I was feeling before that first shot burned its way down my throat.
"Oh," his voice sounds sort of rejected. "That's good. I'm glad you had a nice time."
Why do I suddenly feel bad for having a good time? I pull at a loose thread in my comforter and try to talk myself out of just hanging up and blaming in the alcohol in the morning.
"Yeah, well I really don't want to keep you up. I'm sure you have all kinds of important pencil neck things to do tomorrow and listening to me ramble isn't going to help you get up in the morning," I try to laugh it off, give him an easy way out of this conversation.
"No, no, it's okay. I want to talk to you. Wanted to tell you not to freak out if you see me wearing pinks socks and underwear. I messed my laundry up," He admits. I laugh and can easily picture the tortured look on his face when he pulled the one red sock out of his white wash. Next time I'll let him come here and I'll assist, mildly.
"Well, only real men can wear pink so I think I'll be pretty ok with it," I answer. At least I am the only one that will see the underwear. At least I assume I would be. Who really knows? I am too chicken shit to ask. He chuckles and I am drawn once more back to my bed and out of my mind.
"That sounded mostly like a compliment. How was your day?" he asks. The sleep is rapidly leaving his voice as my eyes are steadily drooping. I twist my body towards the nearest pillow and pull it towards me. It smells faintly of him and I have to push it away to keep my mind clear.
"It's 3 am and you're asking about my day? Go back to sleep. I shouldn't have called." This time it's not nearly as much of a request as it is a command. He should not be wasting sleep for small talk. I almost just hang up and don't give him another option, but my arm is twisted under my head in this slightly uncomfortable way and moving might actually hurt at this moment.
"Bella?" I sigh as he calls me back once again.
"Mhhhmmm?" It's all I've got at the moment. He clears his throat and I know he's about to say something that makes him nervous. He always does that.
"I um…really would have appreciated it if you had called me earlier," he states. It's almost an emotion, almost anger or almost disappointment. I can't decide. But, at least it's emotion and he's not asking me if it's ok.
"Why?" I guess the right response would be an apology, but I'm not sorry. At least not yet.
"Why?" He repeats my words like they are redundant and I should know the answer. "Because we've been together every night and I was waiting for you. You could've called to say you had other plans."
Oh. This is where my lack of experience of being part of an 'us' comes into play. I've never been with someone who I really cared if they were hurt, but now I do feel sorry.
"I'm not very good at this, this checking in. I'm used to just being able to do whatever I feel like doing at the moment. I guess I'll try to think more about you and yeah." It feels as lame to say it as it sounds, but the words are colliding in my mouth and coming out all wrong. Because even though I should want to call, I don't want to, this is hard. And the buzz is not helping.
"It's okay. I should probably get back to sleep. I'll talk to you tomorrow?" his words are soft and resigned. And even though I'm going to, I don't want to hang up. I swallow several breaths.
"Yeah, of course. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Night love," I all but whisper.
"Night," he breathes back and then all I hear is the dial tone. I hold the phone to my ear long after he is gone and I'm angry. Angry that my buzz is gone and angry that talking to him has left me an ache in my chest. And this pillow is hardly helping.
I chew on my lip, suddenly unable to find the sleep that was chasing my earlier. My laptop's humming hiccups and I glance over at it. I roll my face into the pillow and inhale deeply. To hell with nights apart.
I stumble over to my lap top and type in 'whitepages'. I feel like several kinds of stalker before I type in his name and hit enter. I can do this right? I mean we're, whatever we are and it's allowed for me to go over in the middle of the night.
I slip on some shoes and grab one of Emmett's sweatshirts before heading out the door. Sometimes I think that thinking would serve me well and then I think, to hell with it anyways.
***
Sleep just isn't in the cards for me tonight. It was hard enough getting to sleep the first time around. Because not only have I apparently become accustomed to Bella being next to me, I was also sort of pissed. So I tossed and turned for what seemed like hours before I finally got to sleep. And then she called.
And I just wanted to sort of crawl through the phone and pull her into my arms. Even if she pissed me off. It's weird because when I was with Hannah, I crossed my fingers for her to forget about me for just a night. But with Bella it just sort of hurt.
And now someone is knocking at my door. And I swear to god if it's Hannah on some sort of drunken rampage I'm just going to hang myself from the shower head.
I roll out of bed and drag my feet to the door. The last person that I expect to see is Bella, bleary-eyed, drowning in a huge grey sweatshirt, smiling ruefully at me. I rub my eyes. Maybe I'm hallucinating from sleep and Bella deprivation.
But no, she's still standing there with her messy hair and her cute little sideways smile. "Bella?"
"I know this may be crossing a line, if there is a line, I'm not sure, but I just… my feet were cold and they missed you?" she asks unsurely and peeks up at me through her long dark lashes.
And there goes my heart, swelling like a balloon inside my chest. Again. I feel myself smile and shake my head. "No, no lines," I say and push the door open all the way before holding my hand out to hers.
She places her little hand in mine and I pull her into the apartment, shutting the door before pulling her into my arms. "A million scenarios ran through my head when I heard that knock," I tell her and lean down to press a kiss to her lips. "Like maybe Marla next door lit her slippers on fire again, because she's always drunk and always has candles lit but doesn't know how to work an extinguisher. This was the last thing I expected."
"I'm kind of your stalker now," she says and puts her hands on my chest. "I'm just glad you were listed. What if I had knocked on the wrong door?"
I shake my head and realize that I can't keep this stupid, silly ass grin off my face. "Marla would've invited you in for a drink. Harriet might've called the police." I lean down and press another kiss to her lips. "Good thing I'm listed."
"I'm hoping that you'll let me stay? Here with you tonight?"
I cover the hand that's on my chest. "My feet were kind of cold," I tell her with a nod. "Besides, I think it'd be kind of rude and irresponsible to let you go home by yourself at this hour."
"Well," she starts and smiles up at me, "as long as I'm serving a purpose."
I smile back and lean down to kiss her again. "Come on. I know the foyer's nice and all but my bed is better." I guide her through the apartment and into my room. I'm nervous suddenly. Everything in here is so Hannah-fied and I haven't really had a chance, or the energy, to change anything. The crappy throw pillows are still on the made half of the bed.
She walks over to the bed and lifts a pillow up, quirking an eyebrow at me. "I never thought you were one for throw pillows. How metro of you."
I feel my cheeks burn and walk over, taking the pillow from her hand and throwing it across the room. "I've been meaning to get rid of these." I do the same with the rest of them. "Actually," I say nervously, wanting to fill the silence, "I was going to burn them and throw them out the window. But it didn't seem like the best idea."
"I vote for the window," she says and raises her hand in the air.
I laugh. "Fine. Come here." I walk over to the pillows I just threw on the floor and pick them up.
She's still standing by the bed staring at me. "Are you gonna help me or not?" I ask.
She chuckles and walks over to me, bending down to pick up three before straightening back up again. "Edward, maybe we shouldn't light them on fire."
"Just come on," I say and lead her to the fire escape. I let her walk out in front of me and she goes and leans against the railing.
I stand right behind her, wanting to feel her close to me before I put my cheek against hers. "On three," I whisper and we both hold the pillows off the railing. "One… two… three." And then we drop them.
She turns to look up at me, victory in her eyes, and I just start laughing. It starts off slow and then builds into that embarrassing laugh that I can never control and always brings tears to my eyes.
I put my hands on either side of her on the railing and drop my head to her shoulder until it subsides. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that for," I tell her finally.
She puts her hands on my face and says, "You should give in to those kinds of urges more often. It's good for the soul."
"It's you though," I whisper.
"What's me?" she asks with her cute little laugh.
I lean closer and put my hands on her hips. Who knows how secure this thing is. "It's you that's good for my soul," I tell her and then dip my head and cover her lips with mine. She steps closer and returns it.
When I pull back she's looking up at me and blushing slightly. "We should really try to sleep," she says.
I nod. "Come on."
We walk back to bed and I throw the covers back. "Are you keeping that sweatshirt on?" I ask her.
She shrugs it off and I swallow hard. She's only wearing a bra and jeans now. "Are you going to tell me what I can and can't sleep in?" she asks with a laugh.
I smile slowly at her and pull her back into my arms. "Well, if it were up to me you wouldn't be allowed to wear anything to bed," I say. "But you might get warm with me and the blankets and the sweatshirt."
She lifts an eyebrow at me. "Subtle, Edward. Do you have a t-shirt I can borrow?"
"You didn't return the last shirt you borrowed," I remind her.
"I'm starting a collection," she says with a nervous chuckle.
And isn't that a sweet thought? I smile and walk over to the closet even though I really wish she wouldn't put anything else on and take a lot more off. "This okay?" I ask and hand her a white t-shirt.
"Works for me," she says and pulls it on over her head. It stops mid-thigh. "I hope it's not your favorite cause it might become mine."
I smile and watch her shimmy out of her jeans. "You can have whatever you want."
She crawls into the bed and I follow suit. I pull her into me and feel okay, finally.
"Bella?"
"Yeah?" she sighs and I feel her feet rubbing up and down my calves.
"Night."
"Night, love," she breathes.