Thanks to Nina, Tracy, and Indira.
mwah
I don't own Twilight.
"Did you have a good time, baby?" he asks again.
"Baby?" I giggle. "Baby." I giggle some more. "Oh, shit, there's a pu-pu-puddle."
"Here."
I squeal. I'm so far up in the air. I need to grab onto his shirt, but my fingers aren't working. I start kicking and it's so funny.
"Let me down! Omigod!"
"Stop kicking. There. Safely over the puddle. No one's wet."
"Mmhmm..."
"You're wasted. Thank God we're home. I'm gonna put you down now, are you gonna be okay?"
I nod a lot and it makes me dizzy. I want to tell him I'm very sober, but Edward's laughing at me, and I'm annoyed. I pout.
"Okay, so no. Come on."
He carries me to the couch and throws me onto it. He's still laughing. I kick at him. He grabs my leg and pulls off my shoe. Then my other shoe. Then my jeans.
"Edward... I'm thirsty."
He brings me water.
"You okay?" he asks.
"Yeah, stop being boring. Let's go to bed."
"There is no bed. We're at the new house."
"I need a bed," I insist.
"Bella..."
"Nooo. I'll be good."
He laughs and starts playing with my hair.
"Edward?"
"Yes?"
"You're so smart. I'm so proud of you."
"Thanks, baby," he says.
"I don't like that, but it's okay, you can call me that because you're so smart. Smarter than me. Just a little." I show him how little with my fingers. "Littler than that."
"You're so funny."
I sit up and grab his shirt. "So proud of you." I kiss him, and he's laughing, and I'm being carried over to the bathroom.
"Get ready for bed," he tells me.
He's lying down on the couch when I walk back into the living room. It's so bright out here, and I want to turn off the light, but I'm not sure where... Oh well. I give up.
"I feel better," I announce, sitting on the edge of the sofa, by his feet.
"Good."
"Mike and Jessica drink too much. And it's not even good stuff, so... ugh, tomorrow's going to suck. Don't wake me up, ever."
"Emmett and I will try to move my stuff in quietly. The princess needs her sleep."
"I do."
"You're spoiled," he says.
I just grin.
"So, you had a good time?" Edward asks.
I nod. "Yes, I did. I swear. I promise. Stop asking."
"Good. I didn't think you were enjoying yourself at first."
"I wasn't, but then I ordered the wine. You're a saint. Because, God, how boring were those people?"
Oops. I'm talking about his best friend and his wife. But he's not mad, because he's sitting up and pulling me on top of him.
"I am. Don't I deserve good things?" he asks. He grabs my ass and I straddle him. I move a little, back and forth, and a little this way, then that, and I love the way his jeans feel against me. I want to rub myself on him, so I do. Now I want to say "Congratulations, Edward, you kicked ass and your GRE results were fantastic," so my fingers find his buttons.
He helps me pull his jeans down and off, and then I'm half-lying on top of him, and I kiss the wet spot on the grey cotton of his boxer-briefs, and then those are gone, too, and I'm lazy tonight. More kisses and licks and fingers than anything else, but he says "yes" a lot, then "shit" a lot, and then I'm on top of him, and then I'm trying not to fall because he wants me so very, completely, totally naked, and then I am, and... shit.
"Edward..."
"Come on," he says.
"Ugh, Fine." But I like it better like this, too.
"Move. Yesss."
"Mhmmm..."
He grabs my ass so hard, then smacks it, and I'm about to smack him, but not really. He sits up and holds me, then just my breasts, then he's playing with my nipples, then he bites down on one, and tugs and tugs with his teeth. Owww. Oh. Oh. I can't... But I can... I love this. I kiss him. He kisses me back, but he prefers my neck, I guess. He changes his mind and kisses and kisses my mouth, then he's lying down.
"Come on," he says, and he moves his hand to my hip, tapping it and grinning.
I go so slow, barely moving, then up and down, and I'm about to speed up, but I see the way he's watching us. Watching it happen.
"This is so hot... I wanna take a picture and keep it on my phone, and when you're not around, open it and stare at it all day."
I giggle and move faster. And faster. And then when I'm coming, he manages to get on top, and he's teasing me with his dick, and I want to move it away because I'm so done, but he's not, so I touch him and touch him until he pulls my hand away to tease me again. This time, I can't stop staring either.
"You're perfect," he says. I want to tell him he is, and that he feels so good against me.
"Look at you. Perfect," he repeats.
"Pretty."
"You have no idea. So fucking pretty." He's still rubbing. All the way up. I squeal when it's right there. Then down, and we're both breathing really hard again. "I want to take a picture."
Really? "Well, you can't, so if you want to do this before I fall asleep, you need to hurry up."
"I was kidding, Bella. Relax."
I grab him and when he's inside me again, I kiss him, because I'm not exactly mad at him, and I want him always.
I expect him to acknowledge what happened once we're done, but he doesn't. I expect him to say something when I return from the bathroom a few minutes later, but he just smiles and kisses my face and tells me to let him know if I get cold.
"Okay, goodnight," I whisper.
"Love you."
A few seconds pass.
"I was kidding earlier. You know that, right?"
"You weren't, but it's cool."
"I didn't think you'd get so upset," he admits.
"I wasn't upset. I shouldn't have snapped at you. It's cool. Forget it."
"You don't trust me."
I sigh. "What?"
"You don't trust me," he repeats.
"I trust you, but I really don't want there to be pictures of my vagina... out there."
"Out there? Come on, Bella..."
"Phones get stolen, lost—"
"Forget I said anything," he sighs. His sigh is overly dramatic.
"Stop that. I'm tired."
As if I don't have enough to worry about. As if Jasper didn't have an entire collection of pictures and short videos of things I don't want the rest of the world to see. He swears he got rid of everything after our last fight, and I refuse to even think of the possibility... but yeah, one ex-boyfriend with potentially embarrassing material is more than I can handle, and I really couldn't care less how badly Edward wants it. New rule: don't take pictures or record anything you wouldn't want your parents to see. I'm about to share this rule with Edward, but he's already asleep. I press my lips to his chest and close my eyes to join him.
XxXxX
"It's so big. Do I get my own room?"
Edward throws his arm around his sister's shoulders and tells her to go pick out a room for herself.
"Which one's yours?" she asks, shrugging out of his embrace.
"I don't care. The empty one."
Bree turns to me, rolling her eyes in Edward's direction. "Bella, which one's Edward's?"
"The one with the bed. And new sheets. And stuff on the walls," I tell her.
I see Edward shaking his head from the corner of my eye. "I said I'd do—"
"But you didn't, and it was getting late, so I finished setting everything up in there. The kitchen, too."
"Thanks," he mutters.
"Cheer up. Look at this place. It's very nice. Clean, spacious, so much natural light. It's perfect."
"I know, it's great."
"What's wrong?" I ask him, leaving my place on the floor to join them on the couch. I touch his face and rub my finger against his cheek, back and forth, and his eyes are round and a little scared.
"It's big, and empty."
"It's not empty," Bree argues. "You're going for the minimalist look."
"Is that what they're calling not being able to afford furniture these days?"
"Edward..."
But he silences me with a look. "We need more things."
"You need to stop being picky," I tell him, for the fiftieth time this week. "There's not much you can do if you're not willing to drive a few hours and shop at decent stores."
"I can't afford those stores."
"There's an Ikea in Seattle." Be patient, Bella. He's just stressed. "On our way back from California, we can stop there and buy a few things. And if you don't want to do that, we can take another trip in a couple of weeks. This is fine. You have a table, chairs, a couch, a bed. What more do you need for now? It's not your fault that it's impossible to find anything smaller in this town unless you want to live in those disgusting apartments or in a trailer. This house was available immediately, and you can afford it, so you need to stop stressing over small things and relax a little. This is very nice, and Bree's been cooking for us all afternoon. Cheer up, please." I squeeze his knee. "Bree, where's the remote?"
Of course I fail to catch it when she throws it over to me. At least Edward's laughing now. He pinches my cheek and gets up to retrieve the remote from where it fell on the floor behind me. I grab it from him and start flipping through the channels. I see familiar faces, and my fingers stop working.
He looks older. She looks fantastic, as usual. His hair is almost fully grey now. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, which is something you'd rarely see when her husband was in office. He has a great upper body for someone his age. It's strange seeing it for the first time, after everything we've done. I've never seen him naked. His shirt stayed on. His tie stayed on. Most of the time, his jacket even stayed on. She's in his favorite shade of blue. A one-piece that should be a two-piece, because she definitely has the body for one. They're holding hands. Laughing.
"Is this real life? She took him back?"
Billy Bush tells us that they're on vacation, obviously trying to rekindle their romance, work on their marriage.
"What marriage? She swore that their marriage was over. The woman has absolutely no self respect."
And there I am. A picture of me raising an eyebrow at a journalist who must have said something rude, or offensive, or just stupid. Journalists, especially the ones covering the local news, are idiots. The dumbest species. This picture is the worst. The ugliest. But I look amazing. My skin. My hair. My eyes. I remember that day. I remember getting ready that morning, mentally preparing myself to answer dozens more questions. It was easier to focus on my physical appearance, so that's what I did. I looked exceptionally pretty, but there is something so ugly about my face in this photograph.
I feel Edward's hand on mine, but all he's doing is trying to quietly take away the remote. Our eyes meet. I can't tell what he's thinking, but I know that my face at this moment is the one I hate. It's the ugly face. The angry, bitter, resentful, hateful face.
I let him take it, but first I say, "Relax, you can have it. The segment is over."
Seconds tick by. I don't know what I'm expecting to happen.
"Um, Emmett's on his way," Bree tells us. Her voice isn't as loud and confident as it normally is, but it's a relief to hear it, because I'm not ready to hear her brother's just yet.
"Great, let's heat up the lasagna."
I try standing up, but he won't let me. Fingers are strong and painful around my wrist. I wince, but it's not honest or authentic. It's me being a coward, wanting him to think that I can't take the pain and that he needs to let go.
"Are you okay?" he asks me.
"I'm fine."
"You sure?"
"Yes." This comes out harsher than I'd intended, but I'm not sure he notices, because he tells me we should go help Bree in the kitchen, and grabs my hand on our way over.
They talk about the schools Edward is applying to, and the status of his applications. Bree asks me questions when Edward can't answer them, since I'm the one comparing programs, figuring out the deadlines, and working on his personal statement. I answer a few, and she finally stops asking. I realize that I gave her the wrong information on something, but I can't be bothered to correct myself. I can't stop thinking about what I just saw. After everything he did, she's with him again. After everything he put her through. The public embarrassment just wasn't enough. Her public vows to end the marriage, to go on with her life were lies. I had so much respect for her, but now she's walking on a secluded beach with him. The cameras just happened to be there? This sort of thing disgusts me. What's going on? Did he ask her to do this? Did he have to beg? Is he planning a comeback? Would his party even consider taking him back? Jasper told me that there was some talk of him getting his own political talk-show, but we both laughed at the idea. He'd never do something like that. And now... I want to grab my phone and call Jasper and Peter and Tanya and find out what's going on. If he's back, if he's going to tell his story, I'm not going to sit here and wait to hear it.
My phone is ringing and I run back to the living room to answer it. It's Jasper, and he wants to know why I've been ignoring his calls and texts. He doesn't know anything, but his father will, and his uncles will, and he'll let me know if this was just a random photo op, or something more. My mind is racing. I'm talking fast, my hair is a mess because my hands won't stop, Emmett's here and I open the door but turn around and continue my conversation with Jasper. He's telling me "I told you so" and "calm down" and "he's done, he doesn't want to come back" and "if he does, Uncle Phil will get you on any show, you can talk to anyone, before he talks" and "but you don't want to give up your privacy" and "well, if he plans on discussing it, you have no choice" and I'm tired.
"He's never going to bring it up. He won't discuss it. Even if he's asked, he'll ignore the question, or just give a short statement. He's not going to discuss it," I repeat.
"You're right, but if he does, your name is everywhere again."
"So what? Did it ever really go away? As long as it doesn't happen this week. I'm not coming to the wedding if this is what everyone is discussing."
"Definitely not," Jasper assures me. "Don't worry. Listen, I know it's tough seeing him walking around with her after all this time, but you've moved on. Go hang out with your boyfriend, and don't let him see you get bent out of shape over this."
"Too late, I'm at Edward's new place now." And he just walked into hallway. "Anyway, I think dinner's ready, actually. I've got to go."
"Dinner's been ready for a while," Edward says after I've ended the call.
"Sorry, I didn't hear anyone call me from inside. Did you eat already?"
"No, we're all waiting for you."
"You guys shouldn't have waited. That was Jasper—"
"Why do you care about what he's doing?" Edward asks.
"Are we going to keep them waiting? Bree was hungry."
"I thought you were over him."
"I am. I don't care about him. I'm just angry because she's taken him back. He cheated on her—"
"With you."
"What is your problem, Edward?" I ask. "You know I don't care about him."
"You're jealous..."
"No, you're the one who's jealous."
"Of what?" he shouts. "I'm worried about you. Your face went from calm and normal to... You need to calm down, Bella. I thought you were about to have a seizure."
"I hate what this has done to my life. I don't appreciate being reminded of him, and that stupid frigid bitch, and—"
"Bella, Jesus, calm down."
"I'm calm. Don't tell me what to do. You have no idea what it's like to have to see that. He ruined my life. And when she was acting like a saint, like a martyr, making people hate me more, it was all a lie. She's a fake," I cry, not believing anything I'm saying, but saying it anyway.
"And she's back with him now?" I continue. "I became the home-wrecker. Oh, those poor children, not having both parents around. She's so strong, she's such an inspiration. And now she's frolicking on the fucking beach with him? She's forgiven him? And watch him get back into office, or visit a few poor countries and raise some money for a disaster or two, and watch him be forgiven by everyone. Oh, they look so young and in love. He hadn't fucked her in years."
"Bella, lower your fucking voice."
"Excuse me?" I shout.
"Lower your voice and calm down. My little sister is in there. Emmett's in there."
"You don't speak to me that way."
"Bella..." And it's a warning. But I'm not backing down. I can't stop shaking. I feel like my head is about to explode. The throbbing. I need to breathe. But most importantly, I need to look strong and stare straight into his eyes, because he's not about to look away. He looks like he's about to take me and tear me up into a thousand pieces. His face is red. His hands are clenched into fists. He's breathing hard. I know he won't hurt me, but oh, he could if he wanted to. I take a deep breath, my eyes still on his, and I push him out of my way. It's not even a push. It's more of a small, indifferent "you're in my way" thing—just my hand on his chest for a second. I start to walk away, but angry fingers grab my arm.
"Let go."
"Listen to me," he says.
"Let go, now."
But he doesn't.
"You're hurting me. Let go, now. Stop acting like a child. If you can't handle a grownup conversation, or a grownup relationship, just say so. No need to assault me."
His hand is off my arm and it slams against the wall behind me, making me jump, and my heart is beating fast, and I'm terrified.
"Edward!"
"Bree, go back inside," he shouts, and I feel like I'm shorter, smaller, tiny here, trying to catch my breath, my back against his wall.
"Leave her alone!" she pleads. "What are you doing?"
"Bree!"
My parents never yelled. There was no screaming. No shouting. I've heard my father raise his voice a handful of times in my life, but not like this. His words are cruel, they're the worst, but I'm never sliding down a wall in fear, uncertain of his next move. Jasper shouts, he gets upset, but it's more of a frustrated whine, and it's annoying, but it's not scary. But Edward... that was like a roar. It was thunder, when you're five. My hand is covering my mouth, and my cheeks are wet. No wonder Bree is staring at me with those eyes. I must look so pathetic and pitiful.
She shakes her head at him, and then looks at me. Back and forth between him and me. But she listens, and she's gone.
"Shit. Get up. Are you crying?" he asks.
"Go away. Turn around." Don't look at me while I'm like this.
He kneels in front of me and reaches out to touch me.
"Don't, I'm scared. Go away."
"What?"
I shake my head frantically when he tries to hold me.
"Hey, relax." His voice is so soft now. "Bella, come on, I didn't mean to scare you—"
"No, I'm not scared. Just..." I gather up all of my strength to get off the floor. He doesn't follow me. I even look back. I turn around to see him sitting there, on his knees, staring off into space, his hand rubbing the back of his head, in a daze.
I'm not sure where to go, so I walk in the direction of the bathroom. I lean against the counter and take deep breaths, avoiding the mirror for as long as I possibly can. I hear "Bella" and I open the door, just a crack. Bree pushes it just enough for her tiny body to squeeze through. "It's okay, please don't cry," she squeaks. "It's okay," she keeps repeating. Her arms wrap around my middle in the same way her brother's do when he is trying to offer comfort. Then they awkwardly move up and she's patting me on the back. I've never done this before. Crying in another girl's arms. Being vulnerable and open and silly in front of another female. Just my mother, and she's sick of it, so my pillow and Edward have been the only witnesses to my tears these past few months.
When she says "it's okay" again, I snap out of it.
"Shit, Bree, I..."
"Do you want to lay down?" she asks.
"It's 'lie down.' No. I just want to wash my face."
"Okay." And she's gone.
My face is shit. I can wash it and make it look better, and I'll probably feel better, but I want him to see it when I go back out there. I slam the bathroom door behind me and stomp down the hallway. He's not in the living room. No one is. He's not in the kitchen. Emmett is talking to me, but I ignore him. I find him in his room, in the dark. He's on his back, his hands covering his face. I switch on the light and he rolls over onto his stomach.
We're not talking tonight. I don't even know what I want to say. Where would I even start? His anger? His crazy behavior? God, it would be so much easier to turn around and go home now. Tell myself this is what happens when you date someone you hardly know. He doesn't understand, and he will never understand, and he needs to manage his anger, and... and... And I need to be less of a cunt. But we all knew that. So much easier to fly out to L.A. tomorrow and hang out by the pool with Jasper, and stop pretending this is my life. This thing... isn't forever. It's not sustainable. I have more important things I need to think about, and he's a distraction.
My distraction groans and my hand flies to the light switch, leaving us in the dark.
The childish part of me is annoyed, and wants to switch it back on.
And then I'll leave. I live close enough. I can walk.
I'll call Jasper on the way.
But I'm walking toward the bed, and I'm kicking off my shoes. I lie down next to him, and a few seconds later, he's lying on his back again. My knee starts to bounce. I should just go. We can't possibly love each other after all of that. Up and down. I try to still it, but then I forget and it's bouncing again. I close my eyes. Too many things. More thoughts than I can deal with right now. My head is pounding. That asshole. His stupid, stupid wife. Questions. My face everywhere. The lasagna and Bree and Emmett, and I'm so rude. Questions. Isabella. Isabella. Isabella. That blue one-piece, and his cocky smile. Edward. He thinks I'm jealous. He doesn't get it. Slam. He yelled at me. I can't believe I let him see me like that. So weak. I need to remind him that I'm not, but why? He knows. He loves me. Loved me. Doesn't know me. That cocky smile. My face. This stupid knee. If I go home, my parents... Pathetic, Bella. Really sad. Clear your head. Deep breaths. Reach out to him. No, he's crazy. Dangerous. Come on, he's a lamb. He's a dick. How dare he... I deserved it. He's forgiven. He'll never forgive me. But she forgave him. How? How could she forgive...
His hand is on my knee. It's gone a second later, but it was there. I move onto my side and watch his face. It's not even his face. I try to smooth away the misery, the worry, the anger with my fingertips. They stay, but so does he. I stay, too.
Thanks so much to DeeDreamer16, who reviewed ogm over at RAoR.
Let me know what you think, or just stop by and say "hey" or whatever. I always appreciate your thoughts.
xo