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Stripped Desire – Chapter 20: Orange
"I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once."
John Green, The Fault in Our Stars.~
When I moved to New York, there was no communication with my parents at all.
Nothing.
Not a call, email, or letter.
I couldn't understand what it was they were angrier about. Was it the embarrassment they felt when I called off my engagement, or was it my moving away and out of their watchful eyes?
I called them almost every day for two months, trying to open a dialogue, but to no avail.
At last, one Sunday afternoon, my mother answered. The conversation wasn't great, but it was the most contact I'd gotten.
During the course of the week, she went back to ignoring me until the next Sunday when she answered again.
That's how our weekly phone call started.
It took me awhile to realize that she asked me about stuff she shouldn't have known about. It took me even longer to notice that she answered the night after I had slept with Garrett for the first time.
That's when I realized they were using the services of Aro Smith to keep track of me. Aro had been working for the family for decades; finding scandals that the Swans could use to their advantage. It was obvious they would send him to NYC to keep me in line and brush my mistakes under an invisible carpet.
At first, I was so angry I was tempted to fly to Virginia just to yell at their faces. Just as they would've wanted.
However, I got myself under control just in time for our call.
Up until that moment, I hadn't been thankful for the way she taught me to pretend, but it was safe to say I did well.
Like mother, like daughter.
I learned from the best.
After that, I became extra careful about the people I befriended, or the places I frequented. I hid myself under layers and chose colors that would blend in, and make me unnoticeable.
I never stood out.
Until I met Edward.
The night before the dance recital, I search for something to wear. Somehow, I manage to discard every possible option, leaving me to feel unprepared.
A feeling I despise.
While searching, I cast off several black dresses, noticing how many I have. With that in mind, I decide to look for a bright-colored dress that goes with the theme of the event.
I empty my closet and find none.
Disappointed, I sit on my bed, the pile of clothes around me.
Has my life really been so dark?
So lifeless?
The realization threatens to send me down a spiral of depression, so I stand back up determined.
It doesn't have to be this way.
The next morning, I wake up early to go shopping.
I buy an orange dress that matches Edward's Flaming June tattoo.
Edward picks me up with hours to spare, allowing us to take our time to get there.
I breathe in the distinctive smell of New York, wondering when I became used to it, and why am I noticing it again, now.
I guess when your entire being comes alive in the presence of someone else, the whole world becomes a brand new place.
Once we get there, we stay outside for a little while, knowing it's still too early to walk inside. It's warm, so I take off my coat.
The night is vibrant, and I don't know why I feel on the verge of something big happening.
"You look beautiful tonight," Edward says, staring at me. The way he says it, soft and low, coupled with an intense expression on his face, makes me tremble.
He's just so…
"Thank you," I say. "You don't look so bad yourself." I smirk at him and look over his black dress pants and shoes. I don't know what color his shirt is underneath his black coat, but the way he looks right now, with his hair a little pushed-back and a sinful glint in his eyes, he's more than perfect.
"Is that so?" he asks, running a finger over my exposed collarbones.
It makes me shiver.
Thank God, I took off my coat.
"Behave," I warn, already intoxicated by him.
"I can't. I think this is the most skin I've seen you showing," he says, lowering his face to kiss my chest, right in the middle.
I push him away but hold on to his forearms to keep myself upright.
"You've seen me naked," I say, as if he needs a reminder.
He nods and smiles. "And I will again."
I arch an eyebrow, pretending that he's not right. Before I can formulate a response, he kisses me.
"Later," I say, breathless, losing myself in his green eyes.
"Stop that and come greet the girls before we start," Rosalie says, appearing out of nowhere. Or maybe we've been too distracted to notice.
Edward takes my hand and we follow Rosalie backstage where a chaos of color and anticipation is building.
"Hi ballerinas!" Edward shouts, making all movement stop. The girls run toward us, whatever task they've been working on, forgotten.
In a way, it makes me feel better to know I'm not the only one who gravitates to him.
"Edward!"
After Edward hugs and kisses as many girls as he can, he wishes them good luck with an adorable speech.
"Bella, you came!" a young girl says, hugging me after Edward is finished. I'm a bit surprised by the action, but I hug her back. Soon, I'm hugging several of the ballerinas and fixing their hair.
I meet Edward's eyes and he looks so damn proud, so damn happy.
The recital is pure magic and the fact that it was something created out of donations makes it that more pure.
The girls murder the stage. They're light, graceful, and young. Above all, they're so content. Each movement and step they make is accompanied by their joy and their gratefulness.
It earns a standing ovation.
It brings tears to my eyes.
I meet Edward's eyes, and I'm overwhelmed. This man, this handsome, passionate, infuriating man came into my life and turned my world upside down.
My heart rate accelerates with just the thought of his name. The color green has never been so important. Morning coffee has never tasted sweeter, and art has never evoked more feeling.
What has he done to me?
I remember Alice's words about how Jasper got her, how he made her feel like a better person.
This is exactly how I feel, looking at his profile while he claps with enthusiasm for the girls like a proud father.
Edward Cullen makes me feel alive.
While the crowd around us starts to leave, I contemplate talking to him about what's going on inside me. I'm giddy, crazy with need of being the one to say it first. He has given me so much already.
I keep replaying his words from a few nights ago—It is to me .
As if aware of my eyes on him, he turns to look at me. First, he grins at me, but his expression goes from content to intense in a second.
Maybe he's reacting to the way I must be looking at him.
And then, he speaks.
"I'm falling in love with you."
"Edward," I whisper, overwhelmed and taken aback.
"I don't care if you're scared," he says, facing me with his entire body and holding me by the waist.
"I'm not," I say, shaking my head. The words leave my mouth and become truer than they were before.
I want this.
He kisses me, once, twice. "I don't care what your family will think or say."
I tense.
He holds me tighter.
"You should care about what they'll do," I tell him, distracted by the thought of the Swans looming above us. "They're not the best people, you know?"
He shakes his head. "No."
I don't know what his denial means.
He takes my hand in his and together we make our way outside. We let go of each other to put our coats on before resuming our walk.
"So you care," Edward says, coming to a stop a block away.
"What?"
"About me." He sounds dubious, and his hand tightens around mine.
"Of course I do," I say, looking away from him.
He touches the back of my neck, turning me to face him once more. He arches an eyebrow.
I touch the lapels of his coat.
I'm aware of what I'm about to do, of the jump I'm about to take. Breathing in, I look him in the eye while I push through the crumpled walls of my apprehensions.
"Edward, I'm falling in love with you, too," I say. "Why do you think I'm so terrified?"
A small, nervous laugh escapes me, and the tension leaves my body in a shaky breath. I look down at our shoes for a moment, but his hands urge me to look at him again.
He stares at my eyes for a second before kissing me, teeth clashing, tongues seeking.
Pulling away first, he speaks against my mouth. "I know," he says. "I just wanted to hear you say it."
"Jerk," I mumble and pull him even closer.
We kiss again in the middle of the busy street, the way we did the first time.
Our lips are synced as we anticipate each other's needs, teasing and playing, giving and taking.
Time seems to stop.
"Bella," he whispers.
I smile and kiss him again.
In the back of my mind, I'm aware we're in plain sight where I'm sure Aro Smith is getting a show.
For the first time, I don't care.
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