Author's Note:
A couple of things. First, I have finished BD, and without giving anything away, and I hope not to incur anyone's wrath, but I did love it. It was nothing like I was expecting, but truthfully, that made it even better. If SM had written the story I wanted, it would have been cliched, and boring, and simply a rehash of everything we'd already read.
Second, I have been nominated for TWO awards at The Twilight Awards. For the person who nominated me. . .THANK YOU!! I am so flattered. There's a link in my profile, and voting opens 8/14. I do encourage you to read all the stories, and if you honestly believe that mine is the best, then, yes, please feel free to vote for me. But otherwise, I am just honored to be nominated :)
Third, I have finally updated my profile page with links to the story that this time, I SWEAR will not break. If you want to see the girls' outfits from the date, or even pics of the places they go in Portland, check it out!
Fourth, this chapter is probably one of my favorites so far. While reading, it really helps to listen to the song that kind of inspired it. It's "Amber" by the band 311 (which is kind of a shout-out to my bf, who loves them almost as much as I love Twilight). There's a link on my profile to the youtube video, so check it out!
Lastly (yes, finally, I know), thanks for all your reviews (though a few of you seem to be MIA--if you are unhappy with a direction this is going, just let me know, I am always open to suggestions), and thank you also to my betas: tamelaine, Theresa, CallistoLexx, and Madeleine (who is in Paris. are we all very jealous? yes).
BPOV
We were obviously running behind the boys, despite Rosalie's manic driving skills, because when we showed up at the door of Kell's, loud music pulsing out from behind the bouncer, the muscle-bound man had motioned us right in, mumbling something about having our cover already paid.
Alice led the way, and the three of us strutted into the two-room bar. Rose craned her neck above the mass of people and looked for Emmett, Jasper and Edward. I tried to help her, though I knew her height would be a lot more useful in this particular situation. Alice didn't try all, simply looking straight forward, tapping one foot on the ground, clearly annoyed that getting all six of us together was taking this long.
Finally, Rose let out a grumble and I knew she'd found them. We maneuvered towards a bank of booths on one side of the room, opposite the bar, and sure enough, all three of them were smashed onto one of the benches.
We settled in, Rosalie bitching about the smallness of the booth. I wanted to turn to her and bitch right back that the fact we had a booth at all in this crowded bar was as a minor miracle. But, at that particular moment, I was particularly mesmerized by how handsome Edward looked in this light, in particular his spectacular green eyes. By the way he was looking right back, my feelings might have even been mutual.
"Can someone," Jasper asked, nearly shouting to be heard over the pounding music, "please tell me why this Irish bar is playing clichéd top forty hits?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "Occasionally they'll have some live musicians that aren't bad, and every St. Paddy's Day they host a huge three block-wide blowout party. Unfortunately the current crowd couldn't tell the Pogues from Flogging Molly."
Edward's eyes, which had been scanning the crowd, swiveled back to mine. "You know the Pogues?" he asked, surprise in his voice.
I wasn't sure if it was positive or negative surprise, so I took my normal stance: defensive. "Believe it or not, some Irish punk is not Dropkick Murphy's bad.
Edward shook his head, amazement blooming over his features. "And she even likes Irish punk," I thought I heard him mumble to himself, but the music was far too loud for me to even begin to hear him clearly.
The waiter came by to get our drink orders, but right as he was leaving the music segued into 311's "Amber," all sugary and fluffy tropical goodness.
Jasper rolled his eyes at the DJ's song choice, but I noticed that he did it when Alice was momentarily distracted. Another point for Jasper.
He was clearly in the mood for sucking up, because he sent a soulful look in Alice's direction, and said, "would you like to dance, Alice?"
Naturally, this was exactly the kind of moves he should be making, but Alice's expression didn't reflect that. There was shock, surprise, and nearly. . .glee. She bounced up from the bench, and sashayed toward the dance floor, Jasper following close behind, never taking his eyes from her swaying hips.
Edward nudged my foot under the table and slid his eyes quickly to the dance floor. I felt a wave of pure happiness surge through me. Despite that this bar was full of people, they were all strangers. We could get lost in the mass of people and dance. . .
Silently agreeing, we both slid out of the booth, leaving Rosalie and Emmett behind, to their awkward and tension-filled silence.
The music pulsed around us, as Edward grabbed my hand and fireworks shot up my arm. I thought that maybe he'd have to touch me about a million times, in about a million places, to get used to the way his skin felt on mine.
He maneuvered us through the crowd, carefully finding a path that meant the least amount of wiggling and shoving for me. It wasn't enough, I thought while admiring the view, that he had possibly the greatest ass on the planet, but he was considerate too. My heart stuttered as he glanced back, as if he couldn't bring himself to look away from my face for a single moment. Our eyes met, and I knew that he couldn't deny me my long-awaited kiss much longer. The desire for it was written all over his face, and in the way his eyes flashed emerald fire at me.
When we finally stopped pushing our way through the crowd, we were on the other side of the room. Rose and Emmett couldn't possibly see us. Jasper and Alice had long been absorbed in the crowd. We were, despite being surrounded by probably two hundred people, effectively alone.
Edward let go of my hand and wrapped his arm around me. Knees more than a little weak, I melted into him. Slowly we began to move to the laidback beat. I'd never thought of this song as particularly sexy but with his hips rubbing in sync with mine, I couldn't deny the undeniable pull of the music or of him.
My hands crept up his back, trying to memorize the way the muscles bunched underneath my fingers, and loving the way he almost shivered at my touch.
Edward's free hand, that wasn't attached to the arm that hooked around my waist and every beat drew me closer, wove its way through my hair.
"So soft," he leaned down to whisper in my ear. This time it was me trembling both from the emotion in his eyes and from the way that his body felt pressed so close to mine. I felt overwhelmed by the sensations surrounding me. Never in a million years had I ever thought something like this would happen to me.
His hand stroked my hair again and I tried desperately not be touched by the tenderness in his touch. It would be so much easier if I could stop thinking he was already emotionally involved with me. We didn't know each other at all. Any feelings either of us had were base, animal attraction. Simple enough. Nothing deeper.
As if he too needed the reminder, his head drifted back down to my ear, and instead of whispering again, he blew gently on the coils of my ear, immediately and instantaneously setting me on fire. I wiggled closer to him and I thought I might have heard him groan in frustration.
"God, Bella, you are so. . ." he threw his head slightly back and I couldn't prevent the giggle that escaped me.
"I was right, you're a first class witch. Enchanting me," he mumbled. "You need to turn that off."
As if that was going to happen. If he was truly enchanted, then I was going to do anything in power to turn it up a few notches. I needed a kiss out of this man and soon. I felt as if I were starving to death and he was a full Thanksgiving dinner, ready to be consumed.
I licked my lips, imagining the saltiness of the gravy and stuffing, the sweet tartness of cranberries, the softness of the tender turkey.
Edward groaned again. "I can't," he bit off, "take much more of this, you know."
And before I could even think of what he could possibly mean, his lips were on mine, and they were so much better than gravy or stuffing or cranberry sauce. They were even better than turkey.
I was worried he'd try to pull some soft, sentimental kiss, but he'd clearly read my mind because this was anything but gentle.
He'd grabbed me hard and firmly, possessively, passionately laid siege to my lips. In the face of such an onslaught, there was nothing to do but grant him access. I opened my lips slightly, and before I could even prepare for how incredibly sensual it felt to be kissing him this deeply, his tongue was already caressing mine.
All I could think was that this man could kiss and I wound myself around him even tighter, hoping against hope that we could maybe stay like this for, I don't know, the next ten years or so.
Edward pulled away first, and I could hear both of our gasps for air. He ran a hand through his hair and I felt a twinge in my heart. . .mine. Why had I been so absorbed with his beautifully muscled back when I could have been running my hands through his hair? Obviously he'd completely rattled me. I told myself that if the kiss had been that incredible on my end, surely it hadn't been so bad on his, and if it hadn't been, hopefully he'd want to do it again.
Maybe, I thought with giddy abandon, I should make sure and check before I made any silly assumptions.
I laced my fingers through his hair, thinking that if my hair was soft, his was like an angora blanket—but oh so much better—and brought his lips to mine. This kiss was all me, as the last had been all his. A tiny groan escaped out of me when he granted me access to his delicious mouth, and then all of a sudden, the kiss wasn't mine anymore, it was ours. Our tongues tangled together hotly and as if it were even possible, he used both hands to pull me even tighter to his body.
The kiss gradually faded into small caresses of my lips on his, and his lips on mine, before we reluctantly pulled apart again. I was breathing heavily and there was fire instead of blood in my veins. I take that back, I thought hazily, he was an amazing kisser. That thought almost sent me right back to my new favorite candy store, but I stopped myself just in time.
Edward let out an unsteady breath and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear with what I thought was a trembling hand. Had I affected him as much as he'd affected me? I really, really hoped so.
"Bella. . ." he began, and I took great comfort in the fact that his voice was gravelly rough with desire, "unless you want me to take you right here on the dance floor, we need to stop."
A thrill ran through my body, and instinctively I knew he was right. I'd never felt more. . .desperate. . .for a man in my entire life. And not just any man. This man.
Edward's gaze was scorching, and the expression in his eyes was nearly unbearable. I'd start tearing his clothes off myself if he didn't stop looking at me that way.
I blushed and looked away. There were a whole host of scenarios I was currently picturing, the most innocent of which involved clothes coming off. Thank god he couldn't see inside my mind. He'd probably never recover from how innocent I looked on the outside and how dirty-minded I was on the inside.
"Bella," he said, pulling up my chin with his hand. He let his thumb rub the sensitive skin for a moment, "I'm all for anything you're imagining, but I don't want to rush you, and I'm certainly not going to ravish you in a public place."
"Ravish, huh?" I responded, batting my eyes at him.
"You have no idea," Edward growled, pulling me toward him again.
"Then why don't you tell me?"
He held my gaze for a fraction of a second, then glanced away. "I have a lot of self-control, but there's just something about you that seems to shred it to pieces."
I smiled. "Why don't we just dance then?"
"Later. Let's go see if Rose and Emmett have killed each other first."
I nodded, barely able to hide my disappointment, as he held out a hand for me. I took it and we wound our way back through the crowd.
EmPOV
Alice and Jasper quickly departed the booth, followed by Edward and the pretty Bella. He was obviously making a major move on her, but if Rosie was oblivious, who was I to fill her in. All four of them had clearly wanted to leave the two of us alone together, though I had a feeling that it was a bad idea, from the way that Rosalie had been sending me death glares all evening.
And who was I to argue with her not to? I deserved all of them. I deserved, completely and utterly, her complete hatred for all time. I'd known exactly what was happening between the two of us in high school. I'd felt myself falling for her, not slowly, but so rapidly that sometimes it was all I could do to keep my head above the rapids that seemed so eager to drown me.
Of course, I'd known how she felt about me. For a girl who acted as if she didn't have a care in the world and that she didn't care about anyone in it, she sure wore her heart on her sleeve when it came to me. Not that I'd minded. Her love and trust had filled me with a feeling of invincibility like none I'd ever known. Maybe that was why I'd reluctantly taken Edward's bet. I hadn't really wanted to, at the time. My mind and heart and pants were filled with thoughts of Rosie, day and night, and the idea of kissing any other girl had been abhorrent, but like a stupid testosterone-laded ass, I'd done it anyway.
Naturally Edward had reassured me that nobody would ever know, and I'd stupidly, foolishly believed him. It wasn't until later, a good year after, when Edward had found me in a bad moment and realized I was still beating myself up, that he'd confessed to doing it on purpose.
I smiled then, remembering that day, when I'd kicked the crap out of poor little Eddie so utterly he hadn't been able to leave his bed for days.
Naturally, I'd apologized to Rose the moment after she'd seen Lauren and I. I'd run after her, begging and pleading, but of course, she hadn't listened. Six years later, I still wished that I could beg and plead, but the truth was, I felt a masochistic need to not pursue Rose because after that terrible stunt, how could I possibly ever deserve her?
I deserved to be miserable forever, dating self-centered, shallow, vain women who couldn't know the real me even if I wanted them to.
Because the only woman who'd ever known the real me, besides my mother, was sitting across from me, staring at her fingernails like they were the most interesting thing on earth.
Yes, she was still incredibly beautiful, but that was probably the one thing I missed the least about her. She could have looked like a tramp on the street, and I would have loved her regardless.
Her beauty was just one facet of her incredible person, and while it was the most noticeable to everyone else on the planet, I'd nearly forgotten how gorgeous she was. That is, until she walked into the restaurant tonight and all of me remembered how much I'd used to like looking at her.
She looked up then, straight at me, and the blueness of her eyes made me catch my breath. She seemed a whole lot less pissed off, and I thought desperately, please stay angry. You buckle toward me and I'll give in to the worst part of myself: the part that wants you back, desperately, despite everything that I've done to hurt you.
"So," Rosalie said, "what did you do to your hand?" Her voice was bored and uninterested but I knew what kind of debate she must have had in her mind over speaking to me. Clearly, she'd wanted to leave me in uncomfortable silence, but curiosity had won over in the end.
I glanced at my hand. It was lightly wrapped, and nobody else had mentioned it this evening. I guessed that probably Bella knew the truth of what I'd done, but I had a pretty good idea she'd told Alice too. Obviously Rosie was the only one who'd been kept in the dark. Now the question was if she should stay in the dark or if I should tell her how upset I'd been with Edward and his "plans."
The part of me that desperately still wanted punishment for what I'd done six years ago won out.
"I punched a wall."
Rose had gone back to examining her perfectly painted and groomed fingernails, clearly not expecting anything interesting to come out of my mouth. Her eyes met mine again, and if I wasn't mistaken they gleamed with mischief and surprise.
She laughed, and it was genuine and full and such a turn-on I had to recite a few baseball stats just to keep myself in line.
"Why am I not surprised?" She said, shaking her head in disbelief.
The side of me that wanted to punish myself until the end of time finally stopped putting up a fight and I leaned forward, taking in the incredible way she smelled. God, I loved this woman. How had I lived without her?
"But you're not."
Obviously deciding I'd gotten too close, Rose leaned back, and sent me a calculating expression.
"You were obviously incredibly pissed about something. You have a temper, but it has a pretty long, slow fuse. . ." she pondered, more to herself than to me. I didn't need her telling me all of this. I was just worried she'd accidentally stumble on the real reason for me punching a wall. I could only imagine what she'd say if she knew what had really happened.
She raised one perfect eyebrow at me and I forced my expression to remain calm and unchanged. She'd been able to read me like a book at one time, but that was six years ago. Don't tell me she'd retained the ability.
"You know what I think, Emmett?" Rosalie said, leaning toward me again, and sending every part of my body into hyperdrive.
"I'm dying to know what you think, Rosie," I replied, moving a bit closer myself.
We were now almost nose to nose, and I was lost in the glory of those incredible aquamarine eyes. So lost that the import of her words didn't even hit me right away.
"Emmett," she sighed, "if you were so upset, you should have told me and I would have done something. Anything. You didn't need to hurt yourself."
My heart stuttered in my chest and the masochistic beast inside me bellowed that I was on dangerous ground.
I reverted to the cocky, overly self-assured route I knew she hated. Anything to stop that sympathy from brimming in her eyes one second longer and seriously weakening my resolve to stay far, far away from her.
"Believe me, this had nothing to do with you, Rosalie," I boasted.
She glared at me and if I wasn't mistaken I saw a tiny bit of hope fade from her eyes and in its place, in crept disappointment. I felt unmanned by the way she clearly still felt about me, and, in the same moment, utterly angry at myself for leading both of us on still.
Of course, she'd wanted me to have gotten this angry over her, I berated myself. She wanted proof that I still felt something for her, and here I'd gone, nearly giving it to her. I knew Rosie well enough to know that if she, for one second, knew how I still felt, I'd never be able to push her away. Rosalie, I had to constantly remind myself, deserved better than me.
Again, the uncomfortable silence descended between us, and I clenched and re-clenched my good fist under the table. Never had I felt more awkward around a member of the opposite sex: only Rose could undo me this completely.
She turned her gaze back to the table, reminding me less of the sophisticated businesswoman she was now, and more of the eager, nearly self-conscious girl she'd been back in high school.
Of course, she would never admit she'd been the latter, I wryly thought. Rosalie had acted supremely confident—so self-assured that nobody could see what she was hiding underneath. Nobody except for me. I was fated, or doomed you might say, to understand her just as well as she understood me.
I really hoped that someone else would be coming back to the table soon, because I honestly wasn't sure how much self-mutilation I could take for the evening. I fingered the label on the bottle of beer I was holding, and glanced at her. The cool mask was back in place, but, god knows why, even that didn't stop me.
I couldn't even stop myself. I was beginning to realize that she was the personal burden I'd have to bear forever.
"Would you like to dance?"
Her stunned expression nearly finished me. If I'd needed any proof before now that she still cared, her heart was in her eyes now. I knew she was going to say yes, and I nearly cringed at how stupid I was. It was hard enough to sit here, with an expanse of hardwood between us. Dancing close to her would be the most amazingly painful torture. To be able to touch her, but not to enjoy it—that would be hell.
But to my surprise, Rosie's expression turned from astonishment into something else entirely.
"I'd rather get a root canal instead," she sneered. I sent up a silent prayer, not knowing whether to relieved or disappointed. Typically, I thought, she was a hell of a lot smarter than I was.
APOV
When Jasper crooned to me in that incredibly sexy voice of his, all I could do was nod hopelessly and follow him. So that's what I'd done, even though I had a feeling that dancing with him would feel like being led to water, but never allowing myself to drink.
As if I needed another reminder that this was all a stupid act, Jasper positioned us within eyesight of the table with Emmett and Rosalie. Of course, I told myself, we were supposed to be falling for one another. Too bad I was the world's most monumental idiot and I'd already fallen.
We swayed in time to the music, and I could sense rather than see, Jasper inching closer and closer me. Finally, he clasped one hand around my waist and, I couldn't help myself, I leaned toward him.
Never before had we been so close together. Every time his leg brushed mine, I could feel little explosions of lust snaking their way up my body.
Jasper, clearly still not having improved his social skills from high school, decided to pick the moment when I was nearly melting into him to make some more pointed observations about the music. Didn't he know what dancing entailed? Not commenting about the music, but moving to it.
Not that he exactly stopped dancing while he asked, but I had to remove my mind from venturing into his pants, and actually try to formulate complete sentences.
"As a musician, Alice," he began, sounding more official than a whole boatload of CEOs, "I find it truly odd that an Irish bar would choose to play reggae. The two genres, despite being both expressions of native culture, have very little in common."
I stiffened in his arms. Jasper's infuriatingly superior attitude was pissing me off. I couldn't disagree with his conclusions, though this slow, upbeat, nearly romantic, reggae was a lot more danceable than Irish music, especially the Irish punk that Bella liked so much. Still, he hadn't had to sound like such a priggish snob. Except, I reminded myself, that's Jasper's particular MO.
I moved away from him slightly, in annoyance at both him for being an ass, and at myself for liking his asinine qualities just a little too much.
But Jasper was clearly having none of me moving away, because he abruptly pulled me flush with his long, lean, muscled body.
I almost started to splutter at him, but he quickly placed one finger on my closed lips.
"Now Alice," he said, his voice again morphing into that smooth, suave stranger that was 180 degrees different than the professor I'd seen earlier, "it's a little too early to be having a lover's spat. Dance closer." The last was both an admonition and a seduction, all at the same time, and the combination made my knees weaken.
I inched even closer, the whole time reading myself the riot act for giving into his demands so easily, but I seemed pretty helpless to resist his particular pull.
I was trying to decide what to say next to him, because really, I was unused to making polite conversation while dancing. I thought for a split second that maybe we could just continue, practically dancing cheek-to-cheek, in comfortable silence, but Jasper, ever the social klutz, spoke up again.
"Even though I find it's completely out of place here, I do like this song, though."
I tried really hard not to roll my eyes, and instead, met those amber eyes with a direct stare.
"You like reggae?" I asked, skeptically.
His back stiffened immediately and I took this opportunity to move back just a fraction from his body, even though my fingers were itching to finally discover if his muscles felt as good as they looked.
"Alice," he said with a clearly false note of patience in his voice, "believe it or not, there's a lot about me that you don't know."
I wondered when he was going to find out that his patronizing attitude always brought out the snot in me.
I tossed my head, and snapped back. "I was just trying to make polite conversation, since you know, you seem to like talking more than dancing."
Jasper opened and closed his mouth several times, clearly wanting to throttle me, but knowing that within the parameters of our plan, this was impossible. A ribbon of irresponsible glee snaked through me.
"Let's just dance, damnit it," he finally ground out, purposefully avoiding looking at me while he said. He also seemed to realize that I'd moved away again, and he wrapped a strong arm around my waist and dragged me back to him. "Why don't you just stay put."
I glared at him. "Maybe you repulse me."
"Someone should really muzzle you, you know?"
"I'd love to see you try."
Our exchange, which had started out with bitchy sneers, had descended into playful banter again. I breathed a silent sigh of relief. I hadn't pushed him too far yet. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Rose and Emmett were intently focused on one another, lips moving fast. I couldn't tell if they were flirting or fighting from this distance.
"Maybe," I offered, hesitantly, "we should go back and see if Rose and Emmett are still in one piece."
"Good idea," Jasper replied, shortly. I knew I'd pushed him as far as I possibly could in this particular moment, and I tried to not rejoice at my ability to get under his skin. Annoying him was not the same as him liking me, I told myself. No need to get worked up—the only time he'd even tried to be nice was when he was sticking, somewhat inconsistently, to that stupid plan.