Playlist: Jasey Rae by All Time Low
Word Prompt: Dilute
Chapter 10
When Bella was seven, Renee was in town for a solid month for some course she was taking so she could get a promotion. While she was here, she bought Bella lots of dresses and shoes with little heels on them and loads of straps. Bella would come over and sit on the couch, scowl on her face, and force me to play Life because her mother didn't want her getting dirty in her nice, new outfits.
It went like that the whole time Renee was here, and when she left, the dresses disappeared. I never saw her wear them in public again.
But I did see her wear one in private once.
My family was settled in the van and ready for a camping trip. Garrett realized last minute he failed to get the sleeping bags from the shed, which was his only job. So, of course, he forced me out of the car to do it.
I worked the gate lock with my dad's keys and got into the shed, pulling the bags out one by one. It was a slow process; I was seven.
As I gathered them, I heard Bella's back door open and close, and then she started humming some TV theme songs.
I propped myself up on the bench and got on tiptoe to peer over the fence at my best friend. There she was in a pink fluffy dress, twirling from side to side, singing and smiling. Really enjoying herself.
At the time my seven-year-old self was disappointed in her. She was tough like me. She got dirty and played ball and wasn't afraid to burp in front of boys. She was awesome, and the image of her spinning around like a ballerina made me question our friendship.
After spying for a bit, my dad came into the backyard to chastise me for taking too long. When he saw what I was doing, he simply smiled and whispered in my ear, "She's very pretty, isn't she?" I nodded, and he added, "I won't tell anyone."
He handed me two sleeping bags, grabbed the rest, and we left for our trip. We had a good time—we always did when it was just our family—but I don't remember specifics because all I focused on was the fact that Bella Swan was a girl, and she liked it.
That simple fact is rearing its head again, and it isn't necessarily a bad thing since I like girls—well, one girl—but it is having an effect on the way that we choose to spend our afternoons together. Like today.
I sit on a pink poof staring at deep red velvet curtains, listening to Katy Perry blast through a piss poor speaker system, waiting for Bella to appear. "Remind me again how I got stuck here," I moan.
"I told you. I asked Charlotte, and Jane started hopping around and squealing. I turned around and walked away. I couldn't go with them. They were too excited. It was creepy."
"Jane is a little creepy," I say.
"She is," Bella admits easily. I love her honesty and her trust in me not to go telling Jane or Charlotte what we said.
Bella slips halfway through the curtain before glaring, turning back around, and covering herself in the heavy drapery.
"Wait, come on. Let me at least look."
"It's hideous, okay?" she says, dropping the curtain and putting her hands on her hips.
The thing is purple for starters and has these weird bows and some glittery crap on it. She's right, so I laugh.
"Stop it, Edward. I'm never taking you shopping again."
"You said it was hideous. What? I'm not allowed to agree?"
"If I had a baseball right now I'd throw it at your head."
"Good, then I could be unconscious and sleep through this torture." I slump on the pink poof and drape my head over the backside. A sales clerk waves and smiles at me from upside down.
"Okay, I'm done. Let's just go." She heads back into the dressing room and keeps talking while changing. "I wish we could just go in jeans and a t-shirt. Why do we have to get all stupid looking?"
"You know what? You should just not go."
"Nice try."
"It was worth a shot," I say with a smirk. This is fun.
She comes out of the room, six unwanted dresses in hand, and scowls. "Why do they all have to be so ugly? Why can't there be a girl-jocks-that-like-plain-dresses store?"
"I don't know."
"Seriously," she whines, plopping on the seat next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. "Why do I have to get dressed up?"
"Because that's the rules. And you're supposed to be happy about prom. Girls are supposed to like this stuff."
"Well, I don't."
The image of Bella twirling in her backyard with a bucktooth grin floods my mind, and I can't let her give up. I know she can be that same girl again if she finds something she likes.
"One more store. Come on," I say, pulling her up and taking her dresses.
I hand them to the attendant, and she smiles brightly. "How'd these work out for your girlfriend?"
"Not good. You don't have anything that matches her beauty."
"Aw," the clerk coos, but Bella slaps my arm.
"What?"
"That was cheesy."
"I wanted to see what it was like," I say as we exit the store and head down the walkway of the mall.
"What what was like?"
"Being your boyfriend."
"Oh," she says, but I can't read the expression on her face. I'm not sure if she's upset or amused or what.
We pass a small shop full of mirrors and lots of black and silver with blaring techno music. I stop when we get to the end of the window display and point at a long gown. Simple, plain, Bella.
"I don't hate it." She shrugs, so I grab her hand and pull her inside. We find the dress in her size, and she tries it on.
She trips over her shoe as she exits the dressing room, and I chuckle but shut up when she straightens out. Because . . . wow.
The dress looks great on her. It has no sleeves or straps and scrunches at the top and waist, making her look tiny there before flowing out and down, highlighting her long legs.
"Well?" she asks and turns for me.
There's a slit. A high one, and dammit if Garrett's words about her sex legs don't come unbidden to my mind with a whole lot of lewd images of me and Bella and her amazing legs in all kinds of positions.
"Uh . . ." is all I manage.
"How we doing here? Oh my, how pretty do you look? Is this for prom? I love prom. I went to three back in the day," the blonde sales lady with caked-on makeup says.
"I'm not sure about the color," Bella says, standing in front of three mirrors and pressing the fabric flat to her stomach. "It's a bit drab, this black. What do you think?" she asks, turning for my opinion.
"I . . ." am an idiot.
"Oh, no, no, no. The lighting in here is just—I keep telling the manager we need to fix it. Not black, blue. A dark blue. A deep blue. A beautiful blue. And with your complexion and hair and eyes, this will look just . . ." She kisses her fingers and throws them in the air.
Bella smiles and peers at her feet. "I don't know. I might be too tall? I can't imagine flats would look good with this dress; I'd have to wear heels, and my date's not—"
"Oh, here, here, here. What size?" she asks, pointing to Bella's feet, and Bella tells her. She runs away for a second and returns with heels. "Okay, let's see. Come on," she says, motioning for me. "Mustn't keep her waiting," she sing-songs.
Bella smiles softly and shrinks into herself, like she's hiding, shy.
I go to her and stand beside her while the sales clerk slips the shoes on Bella's feet. First one then the other, and then we're the perfect height for each other, gazing into each other's eyes. Green into brown.
The clerk places Bella's hand in my own, and she turns us toward the mirror. "Ooh, perfect. Not too tall at all. And look at this couple. I mean, could you dilute some of this hotness and share it with the world? Like please. Everyone will be jealous."
"Just of her," I say, peeking at Bella in the reflection.
"Don't kid yourself, buddy. You're gorgeous, and I'm married and still allowed to say that," she says, lifting her left hand to show us her ring. "Okay, I'll leave you to it."
Bella fidgets, smoothing her hair out and tugging at the dress, all while keeping hold of my hand. I turn to face her and just stare. I can't help it. She looks elegant and stunning, and the dress showcases her curves without being slutty.
"What do you think?" Bella says to the mirror.
"I think you're beautiful," I say, and she turns to me fully, her eyes slowly making their way toward my own.
"Do you think I should get it?"
"I think . . . yeah, I think you should."
"Okay. Thank you for doing this with me."
"You're welcome." I lift her hand and kiss it. I wait for her to say something about me being cheesy again, but she doesn't.
Her cheeks are pink, and she's smiling. She leans in and kisses my cheek, warming me up with her soft touch. "I'll be just a second," she says before slipping into the dressing room one final time.
-NSID-
While Bella stows her dress, I peek around her fridge, looking for snacks. My house rarely has food anymore. Dad doesn't know what to buy snacks wise, and I always forget to ask him for money to pick stuff up. We're terrible roommates.
There's some apples in the crisper, but I'm not in an apple mood. I open the freezer and pout. The frozen grapes are all gone.
"Find anything good?" Bella asks, sitting at the island and sorting through mail.
"No, where's the grapes? I was so in the mood."
"Gone. You ate them all."
"Didn't you just go shopping?"
"Yeah, but I'm trying something out, so I didn't get any."
"Oh, please don't tell me you're on some diet for prom."
She throws an advertisement at my head and chuckles. "No, loser, I'm making a concerted effort not to do things I don't want to do anymore."
"And you have strong feelings about not buying grapes?"
"No, I have strong feelings about doing things just because you expect them."
"And I expect grapes in your freezer?" I set my features in disbelief.
"Um, hello? Was your head in my freezer two seconds ago scrounging for grapes?"
"Yeah, but you've been getting them forever. Since like, I don't know, just forever."
"Why do you think I buy grapes and freeze them, Edward?"
"Because they're the most delicious snack known to human kind."
"I buy them because you like them."
"And, so . . ."
"You're not listening." She's exasperated but in a silly way, like she wishes she could change the subject to shut me up. I'm really trying to understand, though, so I hope she doesn't.
"Yeah, I don't get it," I say, sitting beside her.
"Okay, look, I . . . this is embarrassing. Okay, um, I do a lot of things for you. Just for you."
"Uh huh. And this is bad because . . ."
"Because when I do that I'm not thinking about myself."
"Not that I don't want you to think about yourself, because I do want that, but maybe you could give me a non-grape related example."
She puts her hands on my thighs, and I glance at them with a big smile on my face. I'm loving this nonchalant contact.
"I don't like rocky road ice cream," she confesses.
"Wait, wh-what? You always get rocky road. Your dad gets boring vanilla; you get rocky road."
"Because I'm only allowed one choice, and for as long as I can remember I've been forfeiting what I want for you."
"Really?" I say quietly, the realization startling and sad and upsetting all at once. Why would she give up what she wants for me? It's so sweet but not what I want her to do. I want her to do what makes her happy.
"Really."
"What do you want to get instead?"
"You want to see?"
"Sure."
Bella hops down, prods and pushes my shoulders, nudging me closer to the freezer. She grabs a spoon and opens the door, pulling out a carton of mint chocolate chip.
"Ugh, Bella, mint is for gum."
"And it gives you a fresh, tasty mouth, unlike another ice cream which fills your teeth with globs of nuts that get stuck in there." She pops the top of the carton and takes a heaping spoonful, smiling around the utensil. She moans her approval. I like where this is going.
"All right, gimme."
She feeds me ice cream, and I swallow even though I don't care for it. Bella looks elated that I'm eating her ice cream, so I push her a little. "You're right: a fresh and tasty mouth. You know what those are good for, right?"
"You're sort of relentless," she says, taking another bite.
"Well, I don't have a choice here. I'm just waiting for the say so to get more kissing in."
"Mmm." She nods, peering into the carton swirling the spoon around the edge. "Good luck with that."
"You got a ballpark for me yet?" I ask, taking her spoon and licking it before dipping it back into the dessert.
"A kissing ballpark?"
I nod, and she giggles.
"What?" I ask.
"We are such baseball nerds."
"Hey, at least we're communicating. My parents can't even do that."
She looks thoughtful and takes the spoon when I offer it up, but she still doesn't say anything.
"I'm waiting," I say.
"Dodder day-dee-umm," she says, mouth full.
"What was that? I may have misheard you. Did you say Dodger? Because I know that's pretty low on your list, meaning you're less mad and I'm getting closer, right?"
Her eyes playfully admit my accusation is true. I lean in and smack cold wet kisses to her neck while she squeals in protest.
Half a carton and no frozen grapes later, we sit on her living room floor while Charlie cooks dinner.
He's got an old radio on and is listening to a game, so he's paying us no attention.
Bella's purple socked feet are in my lap, and I'm rubbing them, something I learned from Katie when she was pregnant. She always forced me to rub them anytime I was around. It was a brother's duty, she'd told me. I'm not sure about that, but I don't mind rubbing Bella's feet. They're cute and small and not swollen.
Bella's wearing my E hat and has tucked all of her hair underneath it. She's flipping through the TV guide, dog earring pages. I don't know why; she only watches romantic comedies, old sitcoms, and sports with her dad.
"Did it feel weird for you when both those women assumed we were going out?" she asks, peering over the top of the magazine.
"No, I liked it." I run a knuckle down the length of her foot, and she wiggles her toes.
"Why?"
"It felt normal. Right."
"Hmm."
"Why?"
"It felt right to me, too," she says.
We exchange a smile, and I slide closer to her so her thighs are in my lap, forgetting the foot rub. "You got another ballpark for me?"
"No." She chuckles. "But what you said about wanting to see what it's like . . ."
"Yeah?"
"Well, that's what I was doing, too. At Katie's? For dinner?" I nod in understanding, and she continues. "I wanted to see what it was like to be Edward's girlfriend, to see how his family would act."
"And?"
"It was great. Except for you. But you're different now somehow."
"I'm . . . thanks, I think." I smile cheerfully, giving myself the benefit of the doubt because I am different. I'm more aware or something.
"No, really, in a good way. Different good."
"Well, good. Know what I think is good?"
"What?" she asks, eyes curious.
"That hot dress I picked out. I think you should send Jake a pic of yourself in it so he'll die of a heart attack and can't go." I say it all with such enthusiasm.
She shakes her head, pretending to be annoyed with me. At least, I think she's pretending.
"You want to go with me, I know," I say.
"Never said I didn't," she says and covers her face with the magazine.
"I heard that."
"I didn't say anything . . ."
I tickle her sides, and she shrieks, high and loud.
"Hey!" Charlie yells and looks pointedly at me. "Where's the cumin?" he asks sternly, but I know he means get your damn hands off my daughter.
"Cabinet next to the fridge. Middle shelf," Bella answers.
He turns to get the cumin, and I gaze at Bella. We both stare without blinking. I like this game. I was always good at it. And I could stare at Bella all day.
"Why didn't you ask me?" The words are quiet but solid. I think she really wants to know.
"I'm . . . I'm really sorry. I didn't even think about it."
"No, it's okay. You're dealing with your family, and we were weird at the time. I get it. I'll have fun with Jake. He's a great friend, but I would've loved to have gone with you."
"Maybe we'll go to our first college dance together." Please go to the U with me, please.
"Maybe. Do they even have those? College dances?" She seems genuinely curious. That's a good sign. A great sign. It means she's thinking about it. And us at college together.
"I don't know," I say. "I'm just hopeful. I'm hopeful about a lot of things."
"Me, too," she says, and her smile goes straight to my heart.
A/N: Never Said I Didn't made the Fab Five on The Lemonade Stand thanks to you. You're awesome. Thanks for your support!
Special thanks to MsJaxTeller for some playlist help.
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