SM owns.
Thank you as always to Sunflower Fanfction and Mari for being awesome.
My birthday is tomorrow and I love this chapter so this is a gift for both of us!
Stripped Desire – Chapter 13: Fauvism
"The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance."
Aristotle. ~
Edward insisted on accompanying me home even after the weird night we've had. As we parted ways on my doorstep, he left with the promise of sending all the details and information about the recital.
I told him I couldn't commit to anything without knowing all the details. He deemed my request reasonable.
On the other hand, just before we got to my place, I asked him to stop bringing me coffee at work. I muttered a flimsy excuse about having an extra busy week.
I thought he would call me on it, but he nodded in understanding.
Getting ready for bed, I swallow the disappointment that fills me. The truth is I didn't want him to understand.
But I knew it was for the best.
The fact that I'm even thinking about it makes it clear.
I need to get some distance from him.
The blonde who was in Edward's arms at the gallery is all over my office.
Rosalie Hale has been a dancer for 24 years, and she's only 27. Her beautiful face stares at me alongside the smiles of 35 girls that surround her. My secretary dropped off a thick folder filled with information about the work she has been doing with the Dance Academy Center.
It's remarkable.
I'm more impressed by the amount of information and details the folder has. From pictures of past recitals to short biographies of the people involved, as well as the list of expenses from previous years.
They need me to pitch in with enough money to cover the girls' costumes. In order to make a choice, I was provided with three different budgets from several stores.
I choose the most expensive one, having made up my mind the second I saw the color coordinated system of the folder.
Skimming through the last part, where the pictures are, I sigh. This is a detailed and well-prepared presentation.
It's obvious that Rosalie cares about this program. Now I understand why Edward put himself through the uncomfortable task of asking me to help.
Before I can dwell on those thoughts, I call Lauren into my office.
I write down an affirmative note and place it on top, before handing it to her.
"Send this to the art gallery, please. To the attention of Edward Cullen."
She gives me a weird look but doesn't say anything.
Later that day, I found out she went to return it herself.
"Breathe," he says, frowning.
I do.
His frown deepens. I fidget, feeling his eyes on me.
"What is up with you today?"
I sigh. "I don't know."
He stands up and walks toward me. I sit up, covering myself with the blankets.
"Is something wrong?" he asks, crouching down to meet my eyes. His concern continues to surprise me, as well as move something in me.
"Not really."
There's nothing wrong that's keeping me from relaxing into the pose. I'm just too aware today. I haven't seen him all week, and the last time I did everything was so strange. He had been nervous, and I had been trying to keep my distance.
But today when he opened the door for our third session with a smile on his face, I could feel nothing but warm happiness.
The way he's looking at me now does the same thing.
There are too many contradictions inside me to allow me to relax.
"Just life, huh?" he asks, moving a lock of hair away from my face.
I look down at my hands, containing the urge to touch my cheek.
"Yeah," I say, half-lying.
"We can reschedule if you want," he says, standing up.
I shake my head. "No, it's okay."
He looks dubious, but he walks a few steps back, closer to the desk. I give him an encouraging wave and settle back down.
"You sure?" he asks before sitting down.
"Yes."
After we're done, I spend more time than usual getting ready.
I scrub my face several times with cold water.
Edward didn't say anything, but I know he didn't get as much work done today as he wanted to.
One thing I've learned is that he's particular about his paintings and kind of old fashion in how he goes about the process.
He won't take a picture of his models to use as reference, for example. He prefers to have them pose live. And he hates using materials that are good for the environment, but has come to deal with it, knowing it's the responsible thing to do.
He can work quite fast, but he is easily thrown out of the zone.
Looking at my eyes in the mirror, I frown, wondering what zone I am in at the moment.
"Isabella, is everything okay?" he asks through the door.
Instead of answering, I open the door.
He startles, closer to the frame than I expected.
I give him a small smile. "Yes, sorry. I'm just slow today."
He moves closer to me, touching my arm—the long sleeve of my button-down shirt doesn't allow the contact to be direct, but I feel it. He moves his fingers lower until he can hold onto my wrist.
Skin on skin.
"I'm making you some tea," he says. I open my mouth, but he stops me. "Don't refuse. Come on."
He walks to the kitchen, and I have no choice but to follow him. At some point during our short walk, his fingers intertwined with my own. I let go of him first.
Edward takes his time, walking around the kitchen, searching for a mug. He holds two black and white ones with different patterns asking me to choose. I pick the one in his left hand.
It's the same one I used last week.
"Rosalie already bought the costumes. She wants to meet you to thank you in person," he says after we sit down on his couch. "You could go to the rehearsals before the big night."
"I don't know."
"We can go together," he says.
I bite my lip and shake my head. "Edward."
Then he smiles.
"It'll be nice. Let's go tomorrow."
Edward and I meet at the restaurant where we had dinner the other day. I spot him a mile away, his hair overshadowing the other walking heads around him. He catches my eyes and smiles, but I pretend I don't notice.
"I thought I told you to wear something casual," he says when he reaches me.
I look down at my dark jeans and flat boots.
"This is casual," I say looking at his jeans and sneakers.
He shakes his head. "You're overdressed. You could wear that coat to the opera."
I laugh.
We make our way to the old garage where the girls rehearse. He teases me some more about how expensive my clothes look, and I tease him about him looking like a hobo who wouldn't be allowed inside the opera.
I'm lying, though.
I relax when he laughs, noticing how there are no hard feelings between us like the last time we talked about money.
He tells me about his friendship with Rosalie, and while I want to be jealous of her, I can't. There's nothing but warm affection in his voice when he shares his memories of her with me.
Nothing lustful. Just friendship.
On the crowded subway, he shields me from strange-looking people. I didn't realize how vulnerable I am on these streets regardless of the amount of clothes I wear.
The revelation makes me tighten my arms around myself, and inch closer to him. He notices but doesn't say anything.
"Edward!" a chorus of voices greets us when we open the door. The girls take turns hugging him while I watch with a smile on my face from a few steps behind.
He focuses his attention on the group, and I can see how happy it makes them. I know that feeling.
"This is Isabella," he says when they free him. The girls' eyes shine with recognition. I wave at them, but before I know it, I'm enveloped in a sea of arms and a song of gratitude.
Their dance clothes feel soft on my hands, and my body aches with longing.
"Now, now, ladies, behave," an older female voice says from behind. The group of girls back away and stand straight in a matter of seconds.
Trained dancers.
Edward introduces me to Rosalie, and she directs us to a seat where we can watch the rehearsal without distracting the girls. He touches the small of my back while we walk. My coat is not a strong enough barrier.
Rosalie leaves us to ourselves, smiling as she walks back to the girls.
The first number is a classical piece, and it's so beautiful it brings tears to my eyes. The onslaught of emotions is unexpected. I can't remember the last time I was moved this way. I have to excuse myself and run outside.
Edward follows me.
"I'm just being silly, don't mind me," I say when he hands me a napkin.
"It's okay." He stands close to me and places his hand on top of mine to help me dry my tears.
I breathe in and out, trying to calm myself. He backs up a bit and looks into my eyes with intense seriousness, asking if I'm sure everything is all right.
"I'm just jealous because they're all better than I was," I say with a small smile.
He laughs, loud and carefree.
It makes me join in.
His hands go to my waist with ease, pulling me closer.
We're not laughing anymore.
"Please," he says.
I look at his lips and part my own. Without high heels, I feel tiny next to him, but I stand on my tiptoes to meet him.
I'm too weak to stop myself.
Our kiss is not unexpected. It's been building up from the first day we talked.
It starts off slow, but when his hands move from my waist to the back of my neck to deepen the kiss, we soar.
I wrap my arms around him, clutching his chest, standing on my tiptoes.
He tastes amazing.
I can't breathe, yet I don't care. I just want him and this feeling bubbling inside me.
My body can't listen to reason when his tongue is in my mouth making me dizzy.
I want to crawl inside him and lose myself under his skin. I could live right here, in this moment, with him holding me close, kissing me senseless.
So much for distance.
So... there you have it. I hope you liked it.
Thank you for reading.
See you next time. xo