Playlist: Here Goes Nothing by NeverShoutNever!
Word Prompt: Clutter
Chapter 8
Over the next few days, life lightens up a little. It's about time.
On Thursday I learn something very important: Bella is attracted to me. Like really attracted.
I crept up behind her early morning, peering over her shoulder and into her locker just to bug her. She hates hoverers. I leaned too far forward and steadied my hand on her back to keep myself from plowing into her. She shivered just from my touch. I thought perhaps it was just a fluke, but when I said hi into her neck her reaction was even more pronounced. In the reflection of her tiny mirror I saw her close her eyes and inhale deeply, like she was trying to ward off her lust and clear her head.
Anytime I saw her after that, I smiled. I couldn't help it. And that simple action, my uncontrollable grin aimed her way, gave her shy eyes.
The realization that she is so into me is amazing. How I did not know this before, I have no idea. But I am using it to my advantage.
During practice I catch her eyes a few times when she's doing drills not so far away. I get those shy eyes again. I want to know what she's thinking about. Maybe how I kissed her neck over the weekend. I know I can't stop thinking about it. Since I can't talk to her, I wave to her from afar instead, garnering giggles and catcalls from her teammates. Good. I hope they tell her how cute I am, so she'll get jealous and go for it. Go for me.
After practice I lose my shirt and wait for her outside the locker rooms. It won't hurt being half naked, right? I mean, if she wanted to be half naked I wouldn't complain, so . . .
She's walking with her teammate, Claire, their cleats hitting the concrete as they get closer. "Hi, Edward," Claire says, with a flourishy wave, looking me up and down.
"Um, hi," I say, looking at Bella though speaking to Claire.
"You need help in the shower?" she asks, giggling.
"Not unless Bella's available," I quip.
"Lucky bitch." Claire bumps Bella with her shoulder playfully and saunters away.
"What are you doing?" Bella questions suspiciously, trying to avert her eyes.
"I don't know what you mean," I say, pulling my hat off and messing up my hair. I tuck the brim into the back of my pants.
"You don't know what . . . are you kidding me?"
"No. I have no clue what you're—"
I can't finish because Jake shows up. Perfect. He must have been watching her practice. What a loser. Then again, if Bella hung around watching me practice, I wouldn't mind. But she has her own practice. This is stupid.
"It's hot out here," Bella says, wiping her brow dramatically. She's a terrible actress.
"Sure is," Jake agrees.
"Wish I was a boy so I could just . . ." Bella mimes whipping off her shirt.
"It is nice; you should try it," Jake says and takes off his shirt with a wink. It's not even pervy when he does it. And, damn, he's built. I knew he was, but this is ridiculous. At least he's shorter than I am.
Emmett, my team captain, bellows my name as he comes upon us. "Yo, why are we getting naked?"
"Them. Not me," Bella says innocently. "Edward might know, though."
Emmett looks to me, and I manage, "I was just hot and, um, yeah." Bella's turned me into an imbecile.
"Me, too." Emmett smoothes his shirt over his head, and Bella smiles, taking a long, hard look at all three of us. I didn't think over this well enough. "Come on, Bella, let's hit the showers and leave these losers." He wraps his arm around her shoulders and walks her to the entryway where there's a split: right for girls, left for boys. Luckily for me, they head in opposite directions.
I say goodbye to Jake, and when I get inside Emmett laughs loudly at my expression. I guess I look a little irritated. "Relax, bro. I like blondes. And don't be so obvious, dude."
"She likes me."
"She won't for long if you act like a douche. And Jake's a good option."
I narrow my eyes.
He holds his hands up. "Just saying, bro, just saying."
Dammit, he's right. I've never acted like this before around a girl. Things just happened with my other girlfriends. It was easy. Sure, I flirted and tried to look nice and be charming, but I never flaunted myself before. I'll have to tone it down a bit.
Later at night when I head to Bella's to study, I find her in her room wearing her baseball hat, her basketball shorts, and a tight tank with no bra. She's trying to kill me. We studied, but somehow I still manage to get a C on my calculus quiz the next day.
-NSID-
While I find joy in the daytime trying to flirt with Bella and get her attention, my nights—apart from moments studying with Bella—are rather drab.
True to my dad's word, we eat dinner at seven o'clock at the table. It's there I conclude that he is terrible at talking to people. Our conversations are riveting and all have to do with vegetables.
"Can you pass the broccoli?"
"Sure, here."
"Is there gravy for the potatoes?"
"I don't know how to make gravy."
"Oh, okay."
That's about it.
How did I not know this about my dad? I guess he simply wasn't there that often, choosing to stay late with one last patient. And if he was, dinner conversation consisted of my mom chatting about her day and asking me about mine. I always felt happy and content during our family dinners, but now, it's depressing. And I'm losing hope for my parents. If he can't talk to me—and we're technically on good terms—how's he going to talk to my mom so they can solve their problems?
After my game Friday night—which Mom attends, wearing my number and cheering like mad—I try to get Dad engaged in conversation and my life. "The season's almost over. You gonna make it to any games?"
"You know I want to, Edward."
"Do I? You really want to go?"
"Of course I do."
"You've never said so. Even Mom came today, and she's busy looking for a new place to live."
"Of course she was there." He takes a grumpy bite of his carrots that weren't microwaved long enough. They're frozen in the middle still.
"Don't be mad at her because she's a good parent."
Dad snaps his eyes to mine. He loosens his tie and sucks down the rest of his drink. "You may be excused," he says coldly.
"I just sat down," I argue.
"Then get up."
"No, I'm hungry. I just came back from a game. Which you would know if you had been there."
"Fine." Dad's fuming. He's got that look in his eye like he wants to hit me, but he won't. He used to give Garrett that look all the time.
We sit in silence while we chew our Stouffer's lasagna. "This is good," I say, trying again. It can't hurt.
"It was frozen."
"I know," I respond lamely.
That's about it.
I tried.
-NSID-
After two nights (which feels like a whole month) in a row of pathetic meals, and even more pathetic attempted conversations, I miss my mother something terrible. I knew that I loved my mother. I knew that I counted on her for a lot. But I didn't know I was a momma's boy. I don't know if there's a definition for momma's boy, but if there is, my picture's probably next to that definition. Ask me if I care? Go ahead. Not one bit.
During the weekend, I visit with my mom at her new apartment. She signed the lease today and wanted me over to celebrate. I imagine Katie's having a celebration of her own.
We sit among her moving boxes and chow down on pizza. She's so relaxed in her t-shirt and jeans, hair pulled up in a sloppy bun. She looks young. Happy.
"Things are coming along. I got the job working for that realtor, Nancy—the one I looked at rental homes with. She's a sweetie. Anyway, she's going to train me in addition to helping me get my license and everything."
"That sounds good. You like houses."
"I do." She smiles and throws me a water bottle. "I sold one already."
"You're not even official yet."
"I'm that good."
"You're good at everything."
"Not everything," she says, eyes trained on the ground. She recovers quickly saying, "But what I am good at is imagining a furnished house. So I get people to tell me about their stuff, and then I lay it out for them." She stands and walks around the room, eyes wide. "And over here, you can put your couch. And there, that hutch from your grandmother. They eat it up. If they feel comfortable and can see themselves living there, they'll buy it. Well, that couple I sold to did. I hope it works out. Anyway . . ." She sits back down, eating more pizza. "There're classes I can take online. It's a lot easier than I thought."
"Having a career separate from Dad, or living on your own?"
"Both, actually. But I miss you, honey. I like the freedom of doing what I want when I want, but the nights are lonely."
"Tell me about it."
"You're lonely?" she asks. "I thought you'd be spending a lot of time with Bella."
"Actually," I begin, then start over. "So I need your help."
"With what?" she asks, eyes bright, eager to serve. Always.
"I want Bella to fall in love with me."
Mom chokes on her pizza because she's laughing so hard. She calms herself down, shakes her head, and cups my cheek. "Oh, honey," is all she says. I have no idea what that means, but I miss her affection, so I lean into her touch and close my eyes. There's nothing sweeter than my mom.
I take in the moment, pull back, and get started. "We're not exactly going out, like you thought."
"You're not? Why not?"
"It's complicated. There's this guy—"
My mom makes a pfft noise and swats the air. "You're fine. She'll choose you, I know it."
"She hasn't yet."
"Well, what's going on?"
"Well, I kissed her, and she misconstrued something I said, and now I can't seem to come back from it. I just keep digging a bigger hole."
"Did you apologize?"
"Yeah." I nod vehemently because I have. And I've made my intentions known.
"What did she say?"
"She said she wanted me to pretend like it never happened."
"And what did you do?"
"I tried to do as she asked but—"
Mom's glaring with a frown on her face.
"What?" I ask because really I don't need Mom's get-in-here-right-now look.
"I've failed another one," she laments.
"Failed what?"
"You don't get it. You're just like them."
"Like who?"
"Your dad and Garrett."
"I am not."
"Yeah, you are. A little bit, anyway." She sighs and takes a long pull from her bottled water. "This is what you're going to do. Are you listening?"
I set my pizza down and scoot closer. This seems important. I don't want to miss it.
"You forget about your messy room, homework, baseball, our family problems, you hear? You clear all that clutter out of your life, and you focus on one thing."
"Okay," I say, nodding. "What's that?"
"Chasing Bella."
"What?"
"That girl has been waiting for you to stop being so ignorant since she was in training bras. She was testing you. Will you give up easily? Or will you fight the fight? She wants to know. She's running, Edward. Are you chasing her?"
"I'm . . ."
Mom sets her eyebrows, and her mouth forms a thin line. "Is she worth it? Are. You. Chasing. Her?'
"Yes."
"Good, now go."
"Now?" I ask, chortling.
"Yes, now. The chase is on. Go get her!"
"I love you." I kiss my mom on the cheek, steal my pizza to-go, and head home to catch Bella.
A/N: Today's the last day to vote at The Lemonade Stand for Fic of the Week. Link is on my profile. Regardless of who you vote for, thank you for your readership. I'm always surprised when I post a story and people read it. And like it. It shocks me every time.
Know what else shocks me? Reader reactions to the same character. Wow. Half of you love Bella, are giving her the benefit of the doubt, and think she's doing the best she can in her situation, while the other half think she's a two-timing whore. Interesting.
Thank for your reviews and Twitter spam. I loves me some spam. And I love you.