Thanks to Nina and Tracy.
I don't own Twilight.
"Let me see," I insist, taking his hand into mine.
"It hurts."
"Yeah, I bet. Be a little more careful next time." I kiss the tip of his index finger.
"I was distracted."
"I'll never speak again while you're… doing important things." I kiss it again.
"You're allowed to speak. Just don't make a habit of it."
"Such a big baby," I say, wrapping my legs around his. The countertop is slippery, and my butt almost slides off. He doesn't even notice, because he's too busy frowning and staring at the finger that just got caught in the drawer.
I take his hand again and bring the injured finger to my mouth. Let's see how much it hurts. How much pain he's really in. I press it against my lips and I open my mouth. I lick the tip once, and look up. His eyes are wide, his lips are parted like mine. I lick again and his eyes close. I lick and lick in circles. I very softly suck. He makes a noise. It hurts a little. I let go of his finger and find his mouth.
We kiss a lot. We kiss when he stops by in the morning to eat with me. Sometimes I feed him, sometimes he brings food, but we always kiss. We kiss a lot in his car. We don't really kiss enough, because he does have to study and I don't want him wasting precious minutes or hours kissing me when he could be using them to improve his score. He wants things, and I love hearing about what he wants. He names schools and I nod. I encourage. I look at his grades from undergrad and what he's been scoring on practice tests, and I know he has a shot. He's the smartest. He's the prettiest.
"You're the prettiest," I tell him.
He laughs and shakes his head.
"What? You don't like that? You're just… look at your hair! It's all so crazy. Did you sleep on it funny? Electric shock? So pretty. And crazy."
"You're the crazy one," he says.
I rub my nose against his shoulder. This is me saying 'no'. I sniff and sniff and breathe him in. He smells like laundry and soap. I'll like it better when he smells like a boy who's been out doing things on a summer day. I close my eyes and I want to nap right here. On the kitchen counter, Edward holding me, his hands always somewhere under my shirt.
"That's your phone."
"Oh, ignore it."
"You sure?" he asks. "You don't want to talk to… Jasper?"
My eyes open, but I don't move. I'm also not as comfortable and soft against him. And his hand stops for a few beats before it begins to move again, up and down my back.
"Um, no. Just let it keep ringing. He'll leave a message."
"Cute picture."
"Stop staring at my phone."
"When was it taken?" Edward asks. "And what are you wearing?"
"The week after graduation. Long time ago. I was wearing… hmmm, things you wear when you visit the Hales and hang out on their boat."
"You look funny."
"Shut up."
"He's wearing pink pants." I feel him chuckling against me.
"Jealous that he can pull off pink pants? I'd like to see you try. With your silly hair and silly face."
"Bella," Edward starts, "he looks like a tool."
"No…" Yes, but only sometimes. "That's my best friend you're saying mean things about."
"Yeah, and it's also your former boyfriend, and I get to say mean things about him."
"Oh?"
Edward nods, then gets distracted by something on my skin. I hope he moves his mouth a little to the south, down my chest, but the things I want him to put his lips around are things that shouldn't be out on display in his mother's kitchen on a Sunday afternoon.
"That's not fair. He's a good guy."
"Is he?" He grabs the front of my shirt and pulls it down until there's new skin for him to lick.
"Stop for a second," I say, and his hands are immediately on the counter and he's standing straighter, looking into my eyes. "You know Jasper and I are still friends, right?"
"I guess I do now."
"Is that a problem?"
"No," Edward says, "but I'm curious."
"About?"
"How you managed to forgive him."
"Oh. Right. Edward, if you have questions about anything, I need you to ask me. Please don't assume things, or… None of this was his fault. He was dating Alice Brandon at the time, and I chose to confide in her."
"But he introduced her to you."
"I needed a friend," I begin to explain. "When everything started, I needed someone to talk to. Someone local. I didn't have many good friends in D.C., and I missed Jasper. He was dating Alice at the time, and she was very sweet. You meet Alice, and she's all smiles and hugs. I trusted her immediately. She was my new best friend. It took a while for me to tell her the things I told Jasper, but I felt so relieved when I did. It felt good talking to someone, another woman. I loved Alice. She asked me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding, because there was no doubt at the time that Jasper was going to propose. He was young, but he was crazy about her. When everything came out, it was bad. He left her, and she didn't take it well. I don't know what she had expected…"
"He broke up with her?" Edward asks.
"Yeah, immediately."
"He must not have trusted her. If he loved her as much as you're telling me he did, he would have given her the benefit of the doubt, he—"
"The person who ruined his best friend's life? Jasper and I were together for years. He's a loyal friend."
"You obviously meant more to him than his girlfriend did."
"We're very close," I say, trying to figure out what Edward is thinking by staring at the way his jaw is set and the position of his eyebrows.
"Have you considered getting back together with him?"
"No."
"Does he want to get back together?"
"We're friends. It's never going to be like that again," I tell him. "I know why he's calling. We just received invitations to a wedding I promised I'd attend with him. I don't know if I want to go anymore. I'll call him back when I figure it out."
"Why don't you want to go anymore?"
What does Edward need to know about Jasper? Do I have to tell him about Jasper's visit? Does he even want to know that we had sex a little over a week ago? It has nothing to do with him, and yet I feel compelled to say things and make promises.
"I wouldn't be able to fulfill certain expectations. I'm not interested in going as his date."
"You're expected to do things?" Edward asks.
"No, of course not. This is awkward."
"Make it less awkward."
"Impossible," I say. Edward smiles. "Okay. Jasper and I have been hooking up. I was staying at his apartment in New York while he was abroad, and it started when he returned, right before I moved back here."
"Okay."
"I asked him to fly out to see me, and he was here for a week. He left last Friday. We decided to go LA for the wedding, but everything is different now, because you're here, and I have no desire to go with him."
"I don't see why you can't go to the wedding and not sleep with your friend."
"I can, but I don't want to go to the wedding," I try to calmly explain.
"Is this a secret? Are you keeping this a secret from him?"
"No, he knows about you."
"He knows about me, but still thinks you guys are hooking up at a wedding?" Edward asks. He sounds a little impatient. Nervous or agitated. I'm not sure.
"No! We haven't discussed it. He knows I liked you, and I've told him about last summer, but I haven't spoken to him recently. Listen, I just don't feel like going to the wedding. It has nothing to do with you."
"You're contradicting yourself."
"Nobody wants to be the single, pathetic girl at a wedding, living with her parents, with no job and no life. I haven't seen these people in a long, long time. I'd have to face them, and I know what they're all thinking. They're thinking what everyone else thinks, but they're also judging me in a thousand different ways, because they knew me before I became the girl who sucked off the President."
I'm shaking by the end of my mini-rant. My mini-speech. Whatever that was. I said ugly words that Edward doesn't want to hear, because he's spending time with that girl, and I'm sure he doesn't want to be reminded of who she is. He doesn't want to think about it. I can't even look at his face.
"You're still pretty angry," he says.
"No shit."
"If these people are your friends—"
"Were my friends."
"Did they stop speaking to you?" he asks.
"No, I stopped speaking to them, and a few of them reached out to me, and some of them asked Jasper for updates, sent messages, but… I didn't want to hear from anyone. They used to be jealous of me. I was smarter, prettier. They wanted my boyfriend. Or they really wanted me. Or…"
"Hey, don't cry."
"I'm not crying."
Edward's fingers touch my face, and then he shows me his thumb. It's wet. Barely. But wet.
"Have more faith in people," he says.
"I don't know why you put up with me."
"What did I just tell you?"
"My own parents won't look at me. I haven't heard their voices in days."
"What are you talking about?"
I shrug. "Nothing."
"Are you serious?" he asks.
I nod. "My father told me not to ruin your life. He thinks you're stupid."
"He really said those things?"
"Yeah, the other night."
"Bella…"
"What?"
"I don't know," he tells me. "I don't know what to say."
"I think about it a lot. Whether or not you're actually stupid—stupid when it comes to me. I think about what you see in me. I'm interesting? You're a little obsessed? You just really want to sleep with me? It's on my mind all the time, almost every second we spend together, but I don't bring it up because why would I? I don't want to bring your attention to it. Then you'll wonder.
"I remember there was this guy we knew in college. He was crazy about his girlfriend. The other guys, his friends, would joke about how pussy-whipped he was. All it took was one person saying those words to his face, and he snapped. I guess he started to think about his behavior, about how nice he was, and how he let her take charge, tell him what to do. He started acting like an asshole. They whole dynamic of their relationship changed, and they broke up. If no one had said a word… he probably wouldn't have realized it. He seemed happy, you know?"
"I find it hard to believe that you don't know what I see in you."
"This isn't false modesty," I tell him. "I'm attractive. I'm intelligent. I used to be fun, and I guess I still can be. But right now, I'm not a pleasant person to be around. I hate hearing myself say that, but it's true. I'm always crying, and I'm always angry. Most of my thoughts are negative. I don't exactly bring much—"
"You need to relax. It freaks me out when you cry, and I'll admit that the first time you had a meltdown I wanted to get the fuck out the room and not have to deal with it. I still hate it when you get like this, but I don't think about walking away. I can tolerate it, and I can hope it gets better." He pauses and his mouth is against my forehead for a second, and his arms are around me.
His words aren't enough. If anything, when I go home tonight I'll be replaying them in my head, making myself sick because he tolerates me—even if that's not true and I'm twisting his words around. I need more words, because I used a lot of my own, and I know he can do better than that. Kisses and hugs and brutal honesty can only take you so far.
"You only see the bad things," Edward continues. "You choose the worst moments to focus on. Most of the time, you're smiling. I think you like me. I already told you how I feel—stop questioning it. This should be the best part of your day, not something you torture yourself over."
"There's just something I want to know. It's the only thing that matters. Are you happier now? Am I making your life better, or am I just adding stress or drama?"
"Much better. It's never been this good. I promise."
I don't believe him, but I like his lies and his false promises. I like them so much that I will repeat them over and over again in my head until they become true for me. Until they're my reality.
I kiss him. I kiss him like people kiss in movies sometimes. Wild. Crazy. I kiss him like I want to eat him. And Edward wants to devour me, because his kisses beat mine. They're wilder. Crazier. His teeth bite. His hands hurt. His nails dig deep. My legs hold him again. He's so hard, and he pushes it against me as he's pulling the front of my shirt down again. I haven't felt his mouth like this in a year. It's my favorite. He sucks like he absolutely has to suck. Harder and more and more, and I sound like I'm sobbing. A child begging for something, my knees are shaking, feeling things I usually don't feel unless someone is deep, deep inside me. When he lets go, I think he's going to take me to his room and take off my pants and shirt and everything there is to take off, but instead he just stares at me and moves his eyes between my legs. He kisses me there. A few times. My knees shake and shake. If I take off my pants and let him kiss my skin, I'll feel the cold marble of the countertop against my ass, my thighs. I don't care. I'll let him fuck me in the kitchen. I don't care.
So when he kisses my mouth again, I kiss back, and I let my fingers play with his buttons, and I kiss his smile. I kiss his grin.
"I really want you," I tell him. "No one else. I really, really want you."
I start touching him. I can't help but smile. I love touching him. So hard. Big. I don't care, I can be happy about this. I like big. There's nothing wrong with loving the fact that the man you're about to have sex with is well-endowed. It just makes everything better. I'm like an animal, rubbing him over his jeans. I love the friction. The heat in my palm. He's panting and excited. I'm excited. I want to put it in my mouth right before he comes. I should get off the counter. I pop open a button on his jeans.
"Let me down."
"Okay."
He's so tall. I'm still rubbing. I open and close my mouth, and I bite his shirt right over his chest. My tongue makes it wet. I'm teasing him with my hand. I take it away and move it under his shirt to see what he'll do. I want him to bring it back over. I want him to make me touch him. When he stops kissing me and his hand is over mine, I know this is going to be the best. He gets me. He wants what I want.
"Edward! Anyone home?"
His hands are off me and they're pulling down his t-shirt to cover the unbuttoned button. My hands immediately go to my chest, making sure everything is covered, tucked in, perfect. The look on his face is sheer horror. The look on mine? I have no idea. The look on the face of the older woman wearing a baseball cap and tacky jogging suit? Surprise… and then almost immediately, amusement. I wonder if she recognizes me.
"Edward. You brought over a friend," she says.
"Mom, this is Bella."
I smile. Before I can say anything, a door opens. It's loud, and I can't believe we didn't hear it open a few seconds ago. A tiny girl with Emmett's dark hair and Edward's face walks in carrying two bags.
"Bree, this is Edward's friend, Bella," her mother informs her. The way she says my name… I don't like it. I don't think Edward notices, because men don't usually notice those slight changes in someone's voice. The changes that make the friendliest words sound deadly.
"Hello." Her face is expressionless.
"Hi. Nice to meet you both."
Mrs. Cullen politely smiles and takes the bags from her daughter. "I sent your father to pick up some pizza for dinner. I'll have to let him know that we have a guest."
"No, that won't be necessary. I was just leaving."
"Bella—"
"Alright, it was nice meeting you."
Not sure what to do, I grab my bag from where it's been sitting on the kitchen table and start walking towards the door. What kind of rude asshole doesn't insist on having me join them for dinner? Or, I don't know, say something other than the equivalent of 'fuck off'?
"I'll see you later," Edward says. I turn to say something, but I realize he wasn't talking to me.
"Where are you off to?"
"Bella doesn't like pizza. We'll go grab something else. Bree, wanna join us?"
He's doing this strange thing, acting all casual. Lying about my feelings towards pizza, like that's the only reason why I'm leaving and he's coming with me. It's strange, but I like him, and I'm going to trust him. Have some faith, right?
Bree looks a little torn. Her eyes move from Edward to her mother, and I think she quickly glances my way, too. "I'm tired."
"Alright…"
"Next time, for sure," she adds quickly.
This makes me smile. I bite my lip to stop my smile from growing bigger when Edward walks over to her and gives her a hug. "Missed you, kid."
She's blushing and looking away, hiding her face from the stranger in the room.
"I'll see you guys later."
I reach out to open the door, but I'm really slow, because he's already there, and his hand is on my shoulder, and his other hand is holding the door open for me. Before it closes shut, his arm is around me, and he leans in to kiss me. Just on the top of my head. Affectionate. Sweet. If they were watching, they saw. If they're human, they were watching. Good.
XxXxX
"Jasper's calling again," I tell Edward an hour later as we're walking into an Italian restaurant in Port Angeles.
"When's the wedding?"
"In August."
"Talk to him," Edward says. "Tell him you're going to the wedding."
"I'm not…"
"You're going to the wedding with your boyfriend."
"Oh?" I raise an eyebrow. Or I think I do. I never check in the mirror to make sure it's working.
Our conversation is paused when the host greets us and walks us over to an empty table in the back.
"I'm assuming you're allowed to bring a guest," Edward says. "A plus-one."
"Yes, but I told you, I don't want to go."
"Then call him and tell him you're not going." He smiles when I stare at the phone in my hand. "You won't, because you're still thinking about it. Be honest with me, do you want to go or not?"
"I did. I want to see some of these people. It would be cool seeing Jasper again, too. And I just want to get out of Forks for a couple of days…"
There's nothing interesting on the menu. I want a salad. Salad and dessert. A glass of wine. I place my phone on the table. I'm startled when he grabs my hand.
"Bella."
"Yes?"
"Are you going to ignore what I said?" Edward asks.
I squeeze his hand. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"I don't like putting myself out there like that. Do you want to go to the wedding with me or not? If this is about Jasper, or if I'm not good enough, you need to tell me now."
"What?"
"And if you're 'single', like you mentioned earlier, maybe I should be acting more like a single guy."
I let go of his hand. "I can't tell you what to do."
"Answer me," he says.
"I told you, I don't know whether or not I want to go."
"We're not talking about that right now."
"What are we talking about?"
"Don't play games. I asked you a very straightforward question."
"Which one? Whether or not you're good enough? That's a stupid question—you know you are."
"I'm not Jasper."
"You need to stop acting like a jealous prick every time Jasper's name is mentioned."
He says something I can't quite hear. I look at him, challenging him to say it out loud, but his glare startles me. Surprises me. He's angrier than he's ever been.
"Edward, I need time to wrap my head around this idea. I don't just make decisions like that."
"You know what? Just forget about it," he says. "I offer to help, but you're too good to accept my help and be seen with me. That's pretty funny, Bella. Do you see the humor in this situation?"
"Are you throwing your kindness back in my face? I don't need your help. Having you by my side isn't going to restore my reputation. You're not going to… I don't know, legitimize me in any way in the eyes of… I don't even know what I'm saying."
"How about you start by stopping for a second, gathering your thoughts, and then expressing them in a coherent manner, like an adult? Try taking it slow."
"How about you use your big word of the day, 'coherent', on the dozen or so idiots you spend your mornings trying to impress and not someone who graduated from a real school?"
"What real school?" he sneers. "I'm pretty sure you were one of those idiots yourself a few years ago."
"Oh, I was talking about your educational background, sweetie. Confused, are we?"
"Your fancy liberal arts college didn't teach you the one thing you needed to learn. Don't get caught. What a waste of time and money."
"You expect me to want to be your girlfriend, when you tell me to be grateful for your kindness, and then bring up the one thing no one who loves me would ever bring up. I left your kitchen with you, I put my faith in you, thinking you weren't running away. You know why I got caught last time? Because I trusted people. I trusted him and fell in love, and then I trusted Alice. How am I supposed to trust you?"
"You're not ready to trust me," he says. "We're both wasting our time."
"Really?"
"I tried."
We order things when the waiter stops by our table. I play with a piece of bread, determined not to get upset. I sit so straight. I force myself to look him in the eye the few times I catch him staring.
"This is why I needed time to think," I finally say. "There's a lot that we would have had to talk about. I didn't want you changing your mind in LA, at my friend's wedding. I didn't want to lose you the day before a big interview, when I finally decide to put myself back in the public eye. I'm not asking if you want to be my boyfriend. You do. You know me, and you know what I'm capable of, and you want to stick around. I'm asking if you want to be Isabella Swan's boyfriend. You'll have to introduce me to your classmates someday, to your colleagues at work. Do you really want to introduce the girl who wrote dirty texts about loving the carpet burns on her knees?"
I didn't think so.
I watch as he pushes back his chair and stands up before walking away. My chest hurts, and I'm worried about the next breath I'll have to take, but I'm not surprised. I was talking to a wall. He wasn't looking at me, and I thought he wasn't listening to a word I said until I was finally done. Then, just briefly, his eyes met mine, and the chair was pushed back. At some point during this conversation, Edward checked out, but I kept talking. I was wasting my time. Eventually, everyone runs away.
Or not. I'll try to update in a couple of days. Thank you for reading, reviewing, talking about this story. Stop by and say hi, or yell at Edward or Bella. Or both.
mwah