The characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The rest is mine.
As always, thanks to Mari, who is Super Awesome.
Please read the A/N at the end.
Chapter 3: So Much For Fun & Life…
Love is whatever you can still betray...Betrayal can only happen if you love.
John LeCarré.
I haven't been in a club for so long. The idea of me going out on a Saturday night feels foreign to me. In the past year, all my weekends have been somewhat occupied; either by a gorgeous and forbidden woman, or by my own misery. Tonight, after a turn of events, was supposed to be the latter. However, it is not the case.
For the first time in what feels like forever, I am dressed with a nice casual change of clothes. I am ready to be seen outside of this apartment, out of the usual suits I wear to work, out of my comfort zone.
It's not like you've never done this before, my inner voice tells me. But I can't help feeling anxious, nervous and above all stupid.
If I'm being honest with myself, I don't want to go to that opening party. I have been adamant in my decision not to go to this thing. I had so much other wonderful enjoyable things to do tonight. I was going to see her.
Change of plans. I think bitterly.
As I close the door of my place behind me, I repeat out loud the words that I've chosen to bring strength tonight. "I'm allowed to have fun. I'm allowed to live."
Even though there's conviction in my tone of voice, I do not believe my words. I've subjected myself to a world of pain and heartache for so long that I really don't think there's anything else out there for me.
What's in it for me without her?
Nothing.
I spend the drive to the club struggling with my choice. Twenty minutes of solitude behind the wheel are not enough for the conflicts inside my head to resolve. Nevertheless it was all I got.
I arrive at the club at 9:15, thirty minutes after the time Emmett told me to be here. The place is packed. There's a long line of cars at the entrance and about four valet parkers managing it all. I am not in the mood for waiting for some guy to park my car and pretend he likes me. Besides, if I have to wait in this line for long, not only will Emmett be pissed at me, but I'll be too tempted to turn around and go home.
I reverse the car out of the main entrance and go around the block. I park the car in a respectable distance from the building. When I get arrive once again to the entry of the club, I take notice of my surroundings. Aside from the now even longer line of cars, there are lights in different colors scattered around creating a scene almost fantasy like. Hanging from the sides of a big silver door, are tastefully placed crystal stars and butterflies. As I get closer to the doorman, where another line is formed, this time with people, I look down and see a very realistic looking green path. It seems to resemble a forest path. The walls next to the entrance are filled with illustrations of trees and flowers.
Even though it all looks beautifully made and rather expensive and intricate, I can't help feeling like this is some kind of joke. Is this a spoiled, 12 year old girl's birthday party decoration? What kind of adult dance club would look like a princess's dream?
Before I get all analytical on this thing, I decide to ignore it all, and just go get in line. When I'm getting almost to the very end of the row, an enormous hand grabs my shoulder from behind.
"And where do you think you are going?"
The shock of being pulled from a surreal scene like this one doesn't let me formulate a response to that question. Apparently for my brother that is green light for him to start talking again.
"Man, not only do I have to wait on your ass for almost an hour, now you won't even say hi. This is how you treat your dear brother who is getting you some action tonight. Not to mention, I am so awesome you don't have to wait any other second to be behind that door."
Emmett chats constantly while pulling me back to the green path and in front of the silver door. The doorman, who is dressed in an all black suit, nods at my brother before letting us in. Absently, I see the looks of annoyance in the people's faces, which have to wait for another while before getting in.
Once inside, I'm surprised by how loud the music is. I couldn't hear a thing when I was outside. It must be a soundproof kind of wall or something.
I follow my brother to a sea of impeccably dressed people; most of them with a drink in hand. I keep noticing the décor of the place and I must admit it looks better inside. While it still has the aura of an Alice in Wonderland theme party, it does look really well made. The walls are painted in what seems to be a midnight blue tone. On the right side of the space are low white leather chairs with crystal tables in front of them. To the left is a high bar filled with silver tall stools with an intricate design at the bottom. The floor looks made out of glass and the ceiling is covered in digital projections of shimmering stars.
Before I can keep looking around, I am pushed to an obscured hallway. Emmett is hot on my heels, urging me forward. After several seconds walking in a curvilinear line, we reach our destination. It's a round spacious room that looks like a smaller version of the main area.
"I present you the VIP room of Fantasía."
Fantasía…That figures, I muse to myself. It means fantasy in Spanish. That explains the dream like quality to this place.
There are several people sitting on the white chairs, while others are standing in little groups conversing. As I step farther into the room, a few faces turn to look at me with peculiar expressions. I feel like everyone knows why I decided to be here tonight. I'm starting to feel suffocated by the unwanted attention.
"Don't just stand there Edward…come on, let me introduce you to some friends." Emmett says behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder.
Automatically I move next to him, and walk in the direction he's leading me.
We go near one of the standing groups; two women in short almost identically dresses and one man in a suit. Emmett introduces Tanya and Irina, two important models of the fashion industry and Aro Volturi, some sort of God in the business.
That explains why these girls are all over him. I think.
There's a blur of incessant small talk. My brother knows every person in this room and makes sure I get to talk to them all. It's the most awkward I've felt in years. These people don't care about me. Between the aspiring models and actresses who are too preoccupied with impressing the casting directors and producers, and the said men that are looking to get laid, there's no room for me.
They don't care about my career. For all they know, I'm just a bored, conceited man who is completely capable of filing a lawsuit against them someday.
It's all joke; this place, this night…this life.
As I sit alone in a partially obscured corner I realize how much similar I am to this people. They're all liars. These men are selling dreams to naïve girls who think will achieve a big career after this night. These women make them believe they are actually interested in what they're talking about. They are all just pretending.
Who knows how many of these guys are married? Maybe all of them are.
Maybe they all have nice women waiting desperately at home. Unsuspecting women that think they are at some last minute work reunion. Perhaps their wives are worried about them; thinking that something terrible happened.
Or maybe those women are with a younger toy boy in a cheap motel. Maybe, they too, are pretending.
What about me? I ask myself. I am no better than them. It's possible I'm even worse than they are. What if these people don't know better? What if these people didn't have a strong foundation to deal with this world? What if these too willing girls didn't have a parent to raise them the basic values in life? What if these men are product of violently divorced parents?
I, however, do know better. I was raised by good, honest people. I was taught to be sincere, to take good care of all women. I was told time after time, to grow up to be an honorable man.
I have no excuse.
I'm living my world of pretend because I chose to. I'm lying to everyone I know because of a woman. I'm ignoring all the values that were past unto me because of her. I'm risking my reputation as a respectable man for nothing.
She's not going to leave his husband to be with me. She's happy having the best of both worlds. She is not concerned about what kind of person this situation makes her. She doesn't lose any sleep like I do.
I need a drink.
This is all too much. The music is too loud. The not so subtle stares of these people are too intense. My thoughts are too heavy. I need out.
Brusquely, I stand from my place at the chair. My brother is nowhere to be seen, I notice. Thank God.
I can't be in this room anymore. I'm suffocating. Without looking back, I strode to the exit of the VIP room. I can't order my drink back in here. As big as it is for a side area, it's too small for my liking. I need to blend in the crowd.
I find my way back to the main room, and go straight to the bar. There's even more people than before, but oddly enough the silver stools are all empty. I sit in the far end of the row of chairs and wait for the bartender to attend me.
I assume, since I'm not a good looking girl, I'll have to wait a while. Before I get lost in my self-loathing thoughts, a pair of shoes catches my eye. They are a deep shade of pink and attached to a creamy pair of long legs.
As I slowly begin to lift my eyes, my heart starts beating faster and faster. For several, painful seconds, I let myself hope. The silhouette in front of me is way too similar to one I know too well. But even in my optimism that it's her, I know before I reach her face that it is not.
This girl has sweet and innocent green eyes. Not piercing and strong brown ones. She has straight, deep blond hair. Not the dark and curly kind I'm used to. She's wearing a modest black dress with pearls around her neck. She looks sophisticated and elegant yet somewhat scared and shy. She seems so out of place, like she'd rather be anywhere else but here. As I gather all this thoughts, it hits me. She doesn't remind me of Bella. She reminds me of myself.
I don't know what compels me to do so, but I find myself talking to her.
"Hi." I tell her, while mentally slapping myself.
"Hi." She answers with a small smile on her lips.
"I would offer to buy you a drink, but I can't seem to make the bartender notice me long enough for me to place an order." I say honestly.
She chuckles, and shakes her head before replying me. "I don't want a drink. Thanks. But if you want, I can offer to try to get his attention for you instead. Of course, I'll have to shorten my dress and lower my neck line in order for me to accomplish that."
Not exactly the answer I was expecting. Maybe she's not as shy as she looks.
I snort in a very graceless manner before muttering, "Right." I don't know how many minutes passed before I realized my mistake. "I mean, not that you aren't pretty enough to catch his eye. Because you are…pretty…I just meant…you know…what you said about him not noticing girls unless they were dressed like sluts. Shit, I shouldn't have said that word…" I trailed off like the fool I am.
I lower my eyes to the floor with embarrassment. But before I can start feeling too sorry for myself, I hear a melodic sound above the strong bass of the music. She's laughing. She looks so carefree. I look at her and smile sheepishly. I'm too dumbfounded to do anything else.
"It's okay. You didn't offend me whatsoever. If anything, I'm curious about you're flirting style. That's what it was, right? Or are you just making conversation? Although I don't see how the latter is better than the first one." She tells me with mirth in her voice.
Flirting? Is that the reason I'm talking to this girl? Am I flirting?
Of course not.
"I'm not flirting." I spat. I don't know why my tone of voice turned so bitter. I notice a slight flinch in her form and a subtle frown in her brows.
"Okay." She tells me in a broken voice. Now it's her turn to lower her eyes.
I feel like crap. Now, I've offended her. It wasn't even my intention.
Why didn't you say you were flirting instead? Because it's a lie.
Like that would be the first or the last one.
As I argue inside my head, I realize it wouldn't be wrong if I flirted with this girl. She's pretty, kind of witty, and completely different from the girls I've met before. Pondering this, I decide to try to save this. Unconsciously, I touch her face, lifting her with the tip of my fingers. I don't know what made me be so bold, but I am. Looking directly into her eyes, I find a sadness that goes beyond the words I've uttered just now. It makes me feel so much worse. Who knows what kind of past I've triggered by rejecting her? This makes me want to make it better so more badly than before.
"I'm sorry." I say almost a whisper. "I didn't mean it like that. I am not good at flirting. Honestly, I never do, because things like this happen. You are a beautiful girl, and I'd be blind not to want to flirt with you." I pour as much conviction as I can into my voice, trying to make her see that I'm damaged. That the reason why I can't flirt is because, as much as I hate myself for admitting this, I feel guilty.
She smiles a little and shakes her head out of my hand. I drop my hand and wait for her to speak. "I am not beautiful, but thanks." She says finally.
"Are you one of those types of girls? The ones that are too insecure and need to be reminded that they are beautiful all the time?" I blurt, because apparently I have no filter tonight. In an even dumber action, I throw a hand over my mouth.
Once again, she laughs; this time even harder than the last. She even has tears starting to form in her eyes. After I've removed my hand, I start to apologize again, but she cuts me off.
"Don't apologize. You're right. I am not that kind of girl. I'm not even supposed to be here tonight. I came because someone dragged me here against my better judgment."
"Let me guess; an older brother who is constantly asking you to come to this kind of events? Even though he will likely leave you to fetch for yourself while he goes home with one of these sluts?"
"No, a roommate who is constantly babbling about me not having an active social or sexual life and thinks a place like this is ideal for a girl like me to find the so called fun… And now I've realized I just talked about my sexual life with a stranger… That's great."
It's my turn to laugh. Not a fake laugh at that, but a true and genuine one. I find myself amused by this whole encounter. It's awkward and kind of embarrassing but there's something cute about it.
In the next fifteen minutes, I find myself having a really nice conversation with this girl. After using as much courage as I could, I managed to get the bartender to deliver some drinks to us. I found out her name is Angela Webber, she's a writer in a magazine while she waits for a more intellectually stimulating job. She likes animals and outdoor activities, indie music and movies. Also, she's the kind of person who would sacrifice her own well being in order to make happy the people she loves. She's witty, smart and compassionate as well.
As our conversation progresses, I realize I actually like this girl. And much to my dismay, I find myself flirting with her. There's a voice in the back of my head telling me is not right to get this sweet girl in the chaos that is my emotional life. Nevertheless, I decide to ignore it for the time being.
In a moment of comfortable silence, I play close attention to the music and notice it's a slow song. Without giving too much thought about it, I stand up to ask her to dance. But I am not able to do so, because an undeniable scent stops me.
With my heart and body reacting the same as always to that perfume, I look to my right to the fierce brown eyes that own me. She's glaring at me with a rage in her features that leaves me paralyzed. I am not so sure how to handle this situation. I don't know what to do.
I've never seen Bella this mad. She's looking at me like I shouldn't be here, as if I shouldn't be talking to this girl. She's looking at me, as if I betrayed her.
How could she do this to me? She has no right to be upset over this. Maybe she's on another egotistical fit, thinking I'm here searching for her.
After my initial shock passes, a new feeling boils inside me; rage. All the frustration I felt this day is emerging once again. And for the first time, I'm not about to swallow it down.
With all the character and strength I know she possesses, she screams at me "What the fuck are you doing here?"
She's trying to intimidate me, but I am determined to have her hear me. I am set on talking back anything she throws at me right now.
She's waiting for my answer. She's raising an eyebrow; like she's done so many times before, only this time I'm not sure she would like my response.
When I'm about to talk, memories hit me. It is such a different moment from this one.
I cannot believe this day. After so many things have happened, I'm currently lying on a bed, naked except for a refine hotel sheet.
Isabella, my brunette goddess, is taking a shower. I'm still in shock of what happened once we left the supermarket. The way she managed to get me from mad, to enchanted, and back and forth left me stunned.
When she asked me to follow her, I said yes without a second thought. Honestly, I knew what was going to happen. I just didn't know it'd be so powerful.
She's a seductress. She knows what she wants and it's not afraid to get it. I'm awestruck.
Pondering my chaotic emotions, I look around the room. It's a mess. I guess we were in a hurry. I continue analyzing our path of destruction, when something sparkly catches my eye. In the little table beside the bed, almost covered in Isabella's turned off cell phone, is a ring.
I reach for it, before I realize what I'm doing. Turning it in my hands, I know what this means and automatically feel sick. I'm panicking and starting to sweat. How? Why? It can't be.
With every scenario running inside my head a million miles an hour, she emerges from the bathroom, still wet, wrapped in a deep blue towel.
She stands at the foot of the bed and smiles coyly. My voice is a little broken as I ask her, "What's this?"
She takes notice of what I'm showing her and processes my question before replaying me.
"What do you think it is? It's a ring."
I feel so confused. I know what kind of ring it is; it's a gold band with a simple design. It can only mean one thing.
She's married.
Apparently, I said that out loud, because she then asks me, "Is that a problem?"
Our recently spent together time flashes before my eyes in a second. I remember the way her skin felt in my fingertips. I can still smell her alluring scent. I remember the explosive feeling she gave me, the look in her face as we managed to get as close as we could.
I treasure the moment she finally gave up and let go. This woman has given me the rush of my existence with just a few hours of my time.
Lifting my eyes to her, I see she's contemplating my features. She's waiting for an answer.
Even though, I know what I want, I also know what is the right thing to do. With that in mind, I look deeply into her eyes and just as I'm about to answer her, she raises and eyebrow and drops her towel.
Along with the sound of her towel touching the floor, I hear myself whisper "No."
I want to take the time to say super Thank You, to all the people that added me in their story alerts lists and stuff...I feel so honored.
I don't really know when the next update will be. I haven't even started the other chapter, so please be patient with me.
Please, let me know how you feel about this story leaving a review.
PS: If you want to read my random semi bipolar rambles, follow me on twitter LisbethTejada.
Till next time, xo.