In case there's still any confusion, I don't own Twilight. =)
(February 2000).
I hate February.
Each year I am lured in by the breaks from school for President's Day and before I know it, the month has gotten to me. I'm sedated with melancholy. I'm suddenly wearing more gray and black because it reflects the way I feel.
February is the shortest month, and it makes perfect sense. Any month could be the shortest month, but February was chosen because it is depressing. No one wants to feel depressed for thirty-one days; twenty-eight is a nice compromise for most. For me though, the seductive pattern of dark days dimly lit by loneliness extends well into March.
February's stone is the amethyst, its flower is the violet; both are shades of purple. Royal purple or purple mountain's majesty, Prince's Purple Rain or Hendrix's Purple Haze, a mixture of blue the yin and red the yang, the color should be harmonious. But if you've read the words of Alice Walker in The Color Purple, you would know purple to be the color of pain and suffering; the color of mourning.
It's an honorable achievement for veterans of war to be awarded a Purple Heart. I didn't serve my country, I consider myself to be a recipient of one as well. A revolting shade of eggplant, my heart is bruised.
"Ed-wardddd!" Alice sings the last syllable of my name and prances into the kitchen. She opens the pantry and ponders for a moment. Her index finger is pressed to her lips; her weight is shifting back and forth between her furry pink slippers. Then without warning, she whirls around and snatches the half-eaten Pop-Tart out of my hand. I grab her tiny waist in response and she yelps. "Hey!"
"Hey, yourself. Get your own Pop-Tart."
"There aren't any left!" she declares and throws the empty cardboard box in my face as proof. "We really need to get groceries."
"Mmhmm," I murmur in agreement and raise my glass of milk to my lips. Alice had been at Jasper's for dinner every night this week so she didn't realize the lack of food until this morning. I realized it every day when there was nothing but peanut butter and jelly for dinner.
"Do you wanna go this morning?" Alice asks through a mouthful of blueberry pastry. She is checking her watch with a suppressed smile. The watch was a Christmas gift from Jasper, and apparently it's one of those fancy brands that girls like. Prada or something. All I know is that it is expensive, and Alice locks it in her jewelry box when she takes it off.
"Sure. I guess." I finish my milk and carry the glass to the sink. I glance down over Alice's shoulder at her watch, surprised that it is already ten-thirty. "Is Esme still upstairs?"
Alice hesitates before nodding slowly. We exchange a mutual pained look.
"While we're out today, maybe we can stop in the cleaning company by the post office," she quietly tells the floor. "See how much they charge." I nod and load my rinsed glass into the dishwasher. Alice stands on her tiptoes so she can rest her head on my shoulder. I smooth her bed head and give her forehead a quick peck. We stand together for a few minutes; our sides mold together and we commiserate.
It's getting so we can't leave Esme alone. More out of touch with herself than ever, she has doubled her doses and now swallows pills with vodka. She needs constant supervision like a troublesome two-year old. Locking her in her room is out of question, but I fear that is becoming the only solution because she is steadily destroying the house. The combination of alcohol and Xanax has made her violent.
She doesn't even see Alice or I anymore, not even when we are standing right next to her. We ask her simple questions:
"What are you doing?" When the sound of her struggling to pull the couch away from the wall and rearrange the living room at one am wakes me.
"Where are you going?" When she breaks the zipper on Alice's purse to remove the Porsche's keys and I have to pin her down to pry them from her hand.
"Why did you do this?" When I slice my bare foot open on the broken ceramic left behind by the coffee mug she threw at the wall.
"How did this happen?" When Alice reaches for the banister to glide down the staircase and notices two large holes in the wall made by a size seven foot.
We ask her simple questions, but she doesn't hear us.
Yesterday was Friday. Alice and Jasper were at a movie, and I was at a party in La Push. Around eleven Jasper was waiting in the driveway while Alice went inside our house to get her things so she could spend the night with him. What she saw on the other side of the front door made her collapse. She ran back outside and rushed Jasper home. Then she called me and told me to get home immediately. I hitchhiked, leaving blond curls and toned thighs behind.
Alice met me under a sprinkling of snow, shivering outside the door. She was too afraid to go inside by herself. I took her hand and gave it a supportive squeeze before pulling her in behind me.
Our living room looked like it had been ransacked by an intruder. The couch cushions were strewed across the room; vases of flowers were broken and water was soaking into the carpet. Tables were overturned. Imprints of fists were in the wall, and all the pictures lined up on the mantle had been pushed to the floor. Alice stood in the middle of the wreckage, paralyzed and ghostly white. I ventured into the kitchen.
The refrigerator door was hanging open, the bulb completely burned out. Water was pouring from the faucet and overflowing onto the floor. I slammed my fist down on the handle to turn it off and heard a strangled cry from Alice.
Esme was slumped on the staircase. Limbs limp and mouth hanging open, a small dark spot was visible on the crotch of her sweatpants. I jostled her shoulder with one hand and her head bobbed back and forth like a ticking metronome. Finally her eyelids began to flutter and I scooped and carried her upstairs, shouting for Alice to get the phone. This was the last time she and I were going to deal with this on our own.
We called Carlisle and got his voicemail. He'd been on a business trip going on three weeks now, but I saw him driving last Wednesday and he knows it. Alice and I think he's staying with his baby's mother. The baby is his blood. Alice and I are not. We're forgotten.
"So, where should we start first?" Alice asks me when we step into the grocery store. She pulls her hat off and shakes the flakes of snow from her hair. I grab two baskets, one for her and one for myself. "I take frozen food, you take cereal?"
"Alright," I agree and head for the grains aisle. Grocery shopping has become a breeze. Alice usually has dinner at Jaspers, so I am limited to foods that don't require a stove as I don't know how to cook. I pick up frosted mini-wheats, microwaveable pouches of rice, and three boxes of Pop-Tarts.
When I meet up with Alice, she trying to decide between pepperoni and supreme frozen pizzas and talking to Jasper on her cell phone.
"Right now?" Alice bites down on her bottom lip and glances at me with uncertainty. She holds up the two pizzas and I point to the supreme. "Alright, let me ask him." She covers her phone with her hand. "Edward, do you want to go to the mall? Jazz is there now with Rose." Though muffled, I can hear Jasper's voice add something through Alice's hand. "What Jasper?" Alice lifts the phone back to her ear. "Okay. Edward, Jasper says Emmett and Bella are coming too so you don't have to worry about being the third wheel."
My body floods with warmth at the mention of her name. Aside from school, I haven't seen her since the New Year's Eve party at the Hales. I didn't even expect her to come to the party because she seemed so nervous by the crowd at the football game, but she did. I know the precise minute she stepped from the front porch to the foyer too. Upstairs, I was sitting on the edge of the bathtub in Mr. and Mrs. Hale's bathroom with my jeans around my ankles. My cock was hard as hell and enveloped in a warm mouth. The girl wasn't very good, but I came. I came because Bella had stepped into the house. I rushed downstairs to find her, and amidst a group of people fearing that at the stroke of midnight, the world would be over, I found her. Her cheeks were just as flushed as mine. I smile at the memory.
"Okay," I say quietly to Alice. I take her basket and walk ahead to the checkout where I use Carlisle's credit card. Thank God he hasn't cut us off yet; I know I wouldn't be able to support Esme and Alice on my own.
The usual hustle and bustle of the mall is oddly invigorating to me. People weave through others like strips of fabric on a loom, stimulated by cups of coffee from Starbucks and cinnamon and sugar pretzels from Auntie Anne's. They walk directly in front of me, cutting me off as though we are two cars racing side by side on an expressway, but I don't feel invisible. They say things like "excuse me" and "pardon me" when they bump my shoulder and step on the backs of my shoes. Four words, two phrases, but it is more than Carlisle and Esme have said to me in months.
Alice and I meet up with the group inside a department store. Emmett is proudly wearing a Forks High School jacket while Rosalie is makeup free in a tracksuit. They are so comfortable with each other, and it surprises me. A stereotypical couple – the head cheerleader and the captain of the football team – but they are down to earth and real. Rosalie volunteers a few nights a week as a peer counselor for a sexual abuse hotline, and Emmett helps coach wrestling at the elementary level during the off season. It is our junior year, but I have to believe that they are doing these things for personal reasons rather than just a desire to pad their college application with extracurriculars.
"Edward, am I glad to see you," Emmett groans. "Jasper's off at the food court filling orders for six, and Rose here has been dragging me around to look at formal dresses and shoes for the past half hour." He rolls his eyes and dodges Rosalie's smack. "I could use some more testosterone."
"Uh, glad I can help," I laugh.
Alice unwinds herself from my arm and she and Rosalie head straight for a rack of dresses. Emmett and I trek behind them and hang out outside the dressing room like a couple of perverts while they try armfuls of sequins and beads.
"So are you going to the winter formal?" Emmett asks as he leans up against the wall. He looks less than thrilled about having to hold Rosalie's oversized fuchsia snakeskin purse, and he keeps trying to hide it under his coat when the burly security guard walks by. I'm gloating on the inside; Alice chose to carry a small clutch today that conveniently fits in my jacket pocket.
"Nah," I shrug. "Dances aren't really my scene." I got invitations by the dozen each year, but I never accepted.
"Mine either," Emmett shudders. "But I do it for Rose. Lord knows the woman would tie my balls in a Windsor knot if I didn't go."
"I heard that, asshole!" Rosalie shouts from behind closed doors.
"I love you too, sweetheart!" Emmett shouts back just as loudly. "She drives me fucking insane," he mutters so only I can hear him. Then he shoots me a big toothy grin that plainly states he loves her anyway.
"So did Bella come with you?" I ask casually, tracing the part of the floor where the carpet doesn't meet the wall. It's a pointless question, but I'm trying to make conversation. I know she's here – my heart is overflowing with rich pumps of adrenaline – I just can't see her.
"Yeah, she's here. Her phone rang, and she walked off somewhere to answer it." He pulls his own cell phone out of his pocket to check the time. "And that was a good fifteen minutes ago." Concern etches his brow. "Hey, you don't mind if I leave you here for a little while do you? I think I better go look for her."
"Go ahead." I consider telling him it would be easier for me to look for her, that I could find her like a needle in a haystack, but I don't. I don't think he would appreciate knowing his sister and I seem to affect each others hormones in a way I didn't even think was possible. Besides, I can't even begin to explain something to him that I don't fully understand myself.
He looks ridiculous as he storms off into the store with Rosalie's purse dangling from his shoulder, and I can't help the snort that escapes my lips. An obvious homosexual employee has approached him and is stroking the purse with a limp wrist.
"Did I hear you right, Edward?" I hear Rosalie's voice calling to me. "You're not going to the dance?"
"No, I'm--"
"Are you kidding me?" Alice interjects. "Edward wouldn't be caught dead at a school dance. I've been trying to get him to go for the past three years. He's so stubborn."
"I'm not stubborn," I argue, further proving her point.
"Well, I can't say I blame him," Rosalie defends me as she steps out from the dressing room in a long black dress with a scoop neck. "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free, eh?" She winks before doing a twirl and admiring her curves in the full length mirror.
I fidget uncomfortably, wondering what all she has heard. I know girls talk, and no matter how much truth there is to what they tell each other, it is inevitable that their recollection of our time spent together is different than mine. It's not like I'm some vicious barbarian with girls; I don't pull their hair or smack their asses. I don't shove my length down their throats until they choke, and if they come before I do, I don't guilt them into returning the favor. I stop when they tell me something hurts, but I know I am no gentleman.
I never touch or kiss a girl after I come; it feels too personal. Too intimate. With intimacy comes vulnerability and the exposure of my carefully hidden flaws. When I look into a girls eyes, all I see are my faults magnified one hundred thousand times. For this reason, I can't take a girls virginity. I've licked and fingered and introduced girls to extreme amounts of pleasure, but I can't be the one to destroy what's left of their innocence. I don't think I could live with myself if I did. No girl should want their first time to be with me. I am nothing amazing.
"Well, free or not," Alice steps out from the dressing room in a short and sparkly number. "He should still go to the dance. The tickets are only seven bucks." She spins around in a circle to make the skirt of the dress lift and flutter.
They step back into the dressing room to change, and I am left to twiddle my thumbs. Alice and I didn't get a chance to visit the cleaning company which means waiting until Monday after school as I am willing to bet they are closed on Sundays. We could tackle the mess on our own, but I don't know the first thing about repairing drywall. The only father-son projects Carlisle and I have worked on together consist of helping to carry Esme from the car to the house to the bedroom.
I sigh and fumble absentmindedly with the pack of cigarettes in my pocket. My nerves need calming, but I don't want to leave Alice and Rosalie alone. I shut my eyes tight and thumb the pack until the universe shifts.
The air stills. My bangs stop fluttering and fall to my forehead. The vent above me has stopped blowing heat. The earth is teetering on its axis to bring her and I closer. A tiny smirk begins to spread across my lips and I open my eyes.
Dressed in a men's black ski jacket, Bella is approaching the dressing rooms with Emmett at her side. If he weren't her brother, I would almost be angry with him. His jaw is tense and his head is angled down, lips moving a mile as a minute as he rumbles into her ear. Bella's eyes are dark and defiant, and she's just letting him maintain a rough grip of her arm. She's so tiny and fragile, I imagine her skin is delicate like a peach. She would bruise with the slightest bit of pressure.
"Every time you talk to him, you get upset!" Emmett snaps as they get closer.
"Just stop it, Emmett! You don't know what you're talking about!" Bella yanks her arm away from him. "Please," she adds quietly when she notices me. Embarrassment reddens her cheeks and she begins gnawing on her bottom lip.
I avert my eyes from hers. The connection has been severed. She has a boyfriend; someone back in Florida is lucky enough to wake up each morning knowing his heart belongs to Bella Swan. It's no wonder she's been avoiding me like the plague. I've been hitting on her without words since she got to Forks. I sit behind her and watch her, touching myself like a disgusting voyeur. I must have made her so uncomfortable she didn't even feel like she could turn around and tell me she wasn't interested for fear I'd pounce and thrust into her.
"So are you going to the dance?" She takes a step forward and asks me.
"No," I reply curtly through tight lips. Before I may have thought she was fishing for information and wondering if I would ask her, but not anymore.
"I'm not either. You want to blow this place off and go to the CD store?"
"Umm..." I rake my fingers through my hair. I have a feeling she just wants to get away from Emmett. The two keep shooting each other looks of pure hatred. "Yeah...Okay." I could be anyone right now. She just needs an escape; that is all I am, but I motion for her to lead the way anyway.
"Not so fast you two," Jasper suddenly appears and stands before us with what looks like the entire food court in white paper bags and cardboard carrying cases. I'm relieved it was him and not me that had to walk through the mall holding all of that "I didn't wait in six different lines for forty-five minutes for nothing."
"We'll take ours to go," Bella speaks up. Her tone is sour; her conversation with Emmett has made her feisty. She grabs an orange julius out of Jasper's hand before he has time to react. "Emmett will pay you for it. Come on, Edward," she calls over her shoulder.
"Who is that and what has she done with Bella Swan?" Jasper stares at her open-mouthed as she walks away. I reach into my wallet with a shrug and hand him a five-dollar bill in exchange for a milkshake. "I've never seen her like that."
"It's that motherfucker she was on the phone with," Emmett seethes angrily. "Every time he calls, her personality completely changes. She's either short and cold like she is now, or she ends up crying all night."
I don't want to hear any more. I turn on my heels and follow Bella who is already waiting for me at the department store exit. We walk side by side in silence to the CD store. I can feel the tension pulsing from her in waves; she keeps crumpling her free hand into a fist and her chin juts out when she is consumed by a particularly frustrating thought. When not in a fist, her hand slaps at her thigh as if to make sure her cell phone is still lodged inside her pocket. She doesn't want to talk to me, so I don't even try.
We part ways once inside the CD store. She disappears to the back of the store and I hit up the new releases. After seeing that the store has labeled Boyzone and Britney Spears as "Rock", I decide I've had enough and head deeper into the store to visit my old favorites. Every single time I'm in a music store, I have to look at Led Zeppelin's first and The Rolling Stones Exile on Main Street. I own both albums, but I still have to look at them; read the song listings on the back and trace the cover.
"Favorite Zeppelin song?" Bella asks me distractedly. She is now standing to my left, studying the latest Pearl Jam.
"Living Loving Maid," I tell her, stifling my smirk. It isn't my favorite song by any means, but I say it to elicit a reaction from her. The song is about a slutty groupie. "How 'bout you?"
"Dazed and Confused."
"Really?" I don't hide my shock. "'The soul of a woman was created below.'" I quote the song. "That's your favorite?
"I find the lyrics of the song reign true," Bella retorts. She licks her lips and frowns up at me. "Especially that one." Her words are jagged and they cut into me like a knife. She walks away, leaving me alone to recover and decipher what exactly she meant. 'The soul of a woman was created below.' I swallow hard and follow Bella with my eyes.
"There you are!" Alice chirps and skips up to me with Jasper in tow. She's holding a paper garment bag in her hands. "I got a dress!" She lifts the bottom of the paper to reveal a slinky yellow fabric with silver sequins. "Rose got one too. Just like the black one she tried on earlier, 'cept in red."
"That's great," I murmur and sneak one last peek at Bella before showing interest in Alice's dress.
"Are you done in here?" Jasper asks. My lips curl in disapproval as he picks up a Alan Jackson CD.
"Yes," Bella finishes for me. She breezes by us and out the door to where Emmett has Rosalie pressed up against the glass, inspecting her mouth with his tongue.
We go inside Borders next. Emmett checks out the Kama Sutra and laughs loudly at the graphic pictures, commenting with a wink that he and Rosalie should try out some of the positions after the dance. Alice tries to decide between two different bookmarks, knowing full well the only purpose either one will serve is to mark her place in a magazine as she doesn't read books very often. I'm intrigued by Bella's eclectic taste. She brushes the spines of cookbooks, Wuthering Heights, the latest Stephen King, Valley of the Dolls, and an Audrey Hepburn biography.
The Mrs. Fields outlet store is right next door to Borders. Emmett is the only one who enters and he buys a box of chocolate chip cookies. The he proceeds to eat all of them on the way to Spencer's Gifts.
Like hits of marijuana or the Top Thrill Dragster at Cedar Point, accompanying Bella Swan inside Spencer's Gifts is something every person should experience at least once in their lives. She is beet red before we even step inside. The 'ROADHEAD HIGHWAY' sign horrifies her, as does the edible panties and a greeting card depicting a well-hung squirrel. Bella is so...white. The color of innocence and purity; I can't even fathom there being a connection between her and the Led Zeppelin lyric.
We continue making the rounds and wind up at Victoria's Secret. Jasper and Emmett exchange a fist bump behind Alice and Rosalie's backs and willingly hurry inside. I reluctantly enter and can't help notice that Bella is lingering behind as well.
"What do you think Alice?" Rosalie holds up a lacy black and red thong. "Perfect for Valentine's Day?"
"Definitely!" Alice bobs her head enthusiastically. She starts to lift her own lacy piece of fabric to ask Rosalie's opinion when she catches my eye. I mutter something intelligible and look away. The last thing I want to see is what my sister plans to wear to seduce her boyfriend on Valentine's Day night.
"Oh my, God!" Rosalie exclaims. "Bella, you SO need to get this!" She rips a matching bra and panty set from a rack. I start coughing like an asthmatic in desperate need of my inhaler.
"Oh, no," Bella protests. "No...I don't, uh, I don't really...I don't have anyone to wear it for." Her head lowers to the floor and her blush spreads.
"Damn right you don't," Emmett declares.
"So, what?" Alice counters. "It's midnight blue – the perfect color for your skin tone."
"Besides, with an ass like that you won't be alone for long."
Emmett glares at Rosalie for adding her two cents. Bella chews on her lip and slowly takes out her wallet. Alice claps her hands and pulls Bella to the checkout counter. I back up until I am almost out the door. Bella buying lingerie is something my self-control is incapable or unwilling to handle.
At four-thirty, we leave the mall and head across the street for dinner at The Olive Garden. I'm on the end seat, directly across from Bella. Alice leads the conversation, speaking animatedly about the upcoming formal. She's to my right, and when her speech increases to the point of full-blown mania, I bring my arm up to rest on the booth behind her in hopes of soothing her. I know when she starts speaking like that, she's talking to silence racing thoughts. She's thinking about Esme.
Our waiter delivers pasta, salad, breadsticks, and six glasses of coke to our table. I unwrap my silverware and try not to look too eager as I twirl some spaghetti around my fork. I haven't eaten food like this since I was invited to the Hales on Thanksgiving. As I raise my fork to my mouth, I glance up and notice Bella is tugging at the zipper of her coat. My knee jerks and hits the underside of the table. The fork falls from my hand to my plate with a loud clank.
"Sorry," I mutter when everyone turns to look at me.
Bella slowly sides the bulky material from her shoulders. My mouth begins to water for strawberries and freesia. She has an emerald green sweater on with a v-neck. There's a light colored shirt on underneath it, but it does little to hide a line of cleavage. I watch her breasts heave up and down with her controlled breaths. She knows what she's doing; she has to. My eyes narrow into slits of desire. I make sure everyone else at the table is thoroughly absorbed in conversation before I lean across the table.
"What are you doing?" I hiss.
"I-I-I...It's warm in here," she stammers. I swear she's biting the inside of her cheek, hiding a smile, but I nod once at her, satisfied with her explanation.
I eat quietly, only giving my opinion when someone specifically asks me for it. I go through two glasses of coke and I don't look up at Bella again.
"Is it him again?" Emmett sharply breaks the flow of the conversation. I jerk my head up and see Bella looking down at her cell phone.
"No," Bella's denial is barely audible.
"Give me the phone," he reaches his hand diagonally across the table. "I have something I want to say to him."
"No."
"I swear to God, Bella," her name is now a warning by definition. "Give me the goddamn phone or I'm going to---"
"You're going to what, Emmett?" Bella challenges. My tongue flicks out when her breasts press together and create a distinct line that begs to be licked. "Crawl under the table and rip the phone out of my hands? Do it. Fucking do it!" She taunts, her voice strained with the effort of trying to scream through a whisper. Emmett's eyes widen in fury. On the other side of Alice, I can't see him, but I can practically hear the smoke pouring out of his ears and whistling like a silver tea kettle. Pleased with his reaction, Bella relaxes back into her seat.
We head off to a movie after dinner. It's packed, it's crowded; it's opening weekend for Mel Gibson's Payback. There are rows of five seats available, but no rows of six. We find one row of five with a single seat behind.
"Don't worry, I'll take the solitary seat," Bella offers snidely and heads down the aisle before we can argue with her. She and Emmett are still livid with each other, making us all watch our words and tread lightly.
I'm sure Bella thinks I planned it when I end up in the seat directly in front of her, but I truthfully didn't. She takes her coat off before the movie starts and drapes it across her lap. I press my clenched fist to my mouth and shift in my seat. I feel her foot come to rest in the middle of my chair, adding a slight pressure to the middle of my back. She slowly begins to run the ball of her foot up and down the seat. I lean back. It feels like she's massaging my spine, one vertebrate at a time. She stops as the film starts, and I let out a shaky sigh.
Twenty minutes into the movie I'm between two couples engaged in some serious tonsil-hockey. I prop my elbow up on the armrest and cover my eyes with my hand. It's nice of Alice to include me in things, but there are some things I'm better off not being a part of. I hesitate before sneaking a peek behind me at Bella. She's slumped down in her seat, knees snug against her chest. I roll my eyes at her and gesture toward the lovesick couples with my head. She gives me a sheepish smile, but doesn't seem interested in furthering a conversation, so I turn back around.
Abruptly, I'm overcome by a pulse. A steady pulse. A steady pulse of blood starting between my legs. It's like my heart has relocated; there is warmth and a consistent throb. There is no building process from soft to semi-erect to hard; I'm suddenly just rock hard. Straining against my zipper, my cock is begging to emerge. The head is swelling and my balls are aching like I've been holding off an orgasm for hours. I feel the pre-cum leak and burn down my length.
I don't need to turn around to know she's touching herself. Her hand is underneath her coat, in her jeans, in her panties, in her pussy. She wet and dripping; my bloodhound nose can smell the scent of her arousal penetrating through the air. I don't even have to strain to hear her breathless pants over the surround sound. She may as well be in my lap, grinding and whispering those sexy sounds in my ear.
My body lurches forward and I place my elbows on my knees. I reach up and pull at my hair, cross my legs at the ankles, clench my stomach muscles into a knot. This is torture. I feel like an addict in need of his next fix. I suck my bottom lip into my mouth and bite down as hard as I can so I won't cry out along with her. She's barely moving, seated between two other people like me, but her index and middle fingers are stroking circles around her clit at a frenzied pace.
"Goddammit," I grind out through my teeth.
"What?" Emmett turns to me. "Don't you like the movie?"
I shake my head furiously, desperate for him to turn back to Rosalie. When he does, I press back into my chair, as if I am pinning myself against Bella. The scent in the air gets stronger; her wetness increases and moistens her slit. Her fingers are working faster now. I can feel her tense up; her body is a hot coil.
"Bella," I don't put a voice to her name; I just move my lips, but I know she can hear me.
She lets out a muffled cry into her sweater sleeve and goes limp in the seat behind me. Her legs cross when she straightens, and more pre-cum runs from my cock as I hear the snap the waistband of her panties makes when she slips her hand out.
I'm furious with her. I know it's unfair to be since I have done the same thing to her several times during Biology, but that was before I knew she was taken. She isn't mine to have anymore; I'm not hers to play with. She can't repair our connection only to treat it like a bridge and saunter back and forth. I'm not arrogant, but I know I deserve more than that.
The air is cold and quiet on the way back to the house with the sounds of Blondie playing in the background. I don't really like eighties music, but Alice's Porsche means being subjected to Alice's ipod.
"Where are we going?" I ask when Alice passes our street.
"Jasper's," she answers without taking her eyes off the road. Whether it is to drive defensively or avoid my judgmental gaze, I'm not sure.
"Oh...How long are we going to stay?"
"All night."
"Alice," I sigh and reach a hand up to pinch the bridge of my nose.
"What? Jasper's parents are out of town this weekend. They won't mind."
"It's not Jasper's parents I'm worried about," I inadvertently remind her of the incident that occurred last night.
"Edward, it's after ten. She's probably passed out for the night."
"And if she's not?"
Alice purses her lips and turns off the ignition. It is then I realize we are already in Jasper's driveway. She removes her seatbelt and turns to face me. Her eyes are wide and determined.
"Is it so wrong for me to want you to have fun?" Her tiny hands fly up into the air. "I know you drink, I know you smoke, and I know you are in the bed of a different girl almost every night. If you can honestly tell me that those things are really fun for you and that you're happy, then I'll stop trying to include you in things. But if you're not happy – and I don't see how you can be – then let me try. Let yourself try." She pleads and reaches across the console to place a hand on my knee. "Just one night, Edward, and I promise you tomorrow we can stay home and baby-sit Esme all night long." She moves her hand up to brush my cheek. "Okay?"
I take her hand and squeeze it, holding it captive in my fist.
"I know why you wanted me to go with you today," I tell her, keeping my eyes focused on my lap. "Why you were so determined to keep me occupied all day." I gaze up at her. "Because it's February first, right?" Alice says nothing. She stares back at me, her head cocked and eyes piercing. "Seven years today," I continue. "I thought of visiting their grave like I always do, but I don't think I will this year." I turn to look out the window. Emmett and Bella are pulling up in his jeep. "I have nothing good to report." My parents would roll over in their if they knew what I've become.
I squeeze Alice's hand again before getting out of the car and helping her avoid patches of ice on the way up the drive. Inside, Jasper and Rosalie are already gathering up extra blankets and pillows for Bella and I. She's getting the extra guest bedroom; I'm taking the couch downstairs in the rec room.
Sprawled out on the leather sectional, I am alone, staring at the ceiling. There's a big plasma screen TV hanging on the wall next to a shelf of DVD's. Jasper told me I was welcome to watch anything I wanted, but I don't feel right in touching anything. It isn't my place to take what I want at free will. It isn't my place to even be here. I sigh and roll over onto my stomach.
Bella hasn't said a thing to me since the movie theater, nor has she made eye contact. I get the feeling she's embarrassed, but she shouldn't be. Whether it was for me, solely for her own pleasure, or a combination of both, it was beautiful. It was the most erotic thing I've ever experienced, and I didn't even get to touch or watch her. I wonder for a moment if her boyfriend can feel her like I can, and I decide he can't possibly. Lightning doesn't strike in the same spot twice. Bella struck me. For me to be the second isn't possible. I have to be the only one.
A quiet creak on the staircase interrupts my thoughts. Bella is descending down from the guest room. I listen to floorboards groan above my head. My radar is turned on; she's a glowing red ball bouncing from the bottom step to the kitchen. She remains still and blinking in front of the refrigerator. I sit upright on the couch and glance at the digital clock on the cable box. It's now twelve-fifteen. My emotions lead me upstairs to the doorway of the kitchen.
Bella is at the sink, filling a mug with water to make herbal tea. She's still dressed in the sweater and jeans she was wearing earlier, and I can see the hard square of a cell phone in her back pocket. She doesn't have to turn around to confirm it's me.
"What are you doing up?" I ask her softly and lean against the door frame.
"Can't sleep."
"Yeah. Me neither."
She puts the mug in the microwave and reaches into the pantry for a box of lemon ginseng. Her eyes are tracing everything she touches, but I am not in her path. I haven't seen her eyes since I hissed across the table to her at dinner.
"Why can't you sleep?" She turns to face me and presses the small of her back against the edge of the counter.
"You know why," I tell her. Because I know she is in the same house as me. Lying awake or dreaming alone, she is two floors above me. "Or at least...I hope like hell that you do." I take two steps away from the door toward her.
"Edward," she whispers. "I'm sorry about earlier." Her cheeks flood with pink. "It...It was wrong."
My jaw clenches. The only reason she would apologize would be because of her boyfriend. She feels guilty; I am a way to relieve that shame. She was only paying me back for times before. It was done out of vengeance; for her own pleasure.
"Don't apologize," I spit the words out. "After all, I probably deserved it right?"
"That's not what I meant," Bella argues quietly, almost sounding defeated. She turns away from me again to retrieve her mug from the microwave. The teabag dangles from a string and Bella dips it into the steaming water. She twirls it for a while, making strokes into the liquid.
The tension between us is mounting. I want answers from her. I stalk forward and rip the mug from her hands. The boiling water splashes out and scorches my hand when I slam it down on the counter, but I barely notice. I cage her in; one hand on either side of her hips rests on the counter behind her.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" I demand. This isn't right, for me to corner and interrogate her inches from her face. "Someone you left behind in Florida?" I'm practically snarling the words at her now.
"I didn't leave anything behind in Florida," Bella corrects me with an edge to her voice.
"Then who kept calling you today?"
"Did Emmett tell you to ask me this?"
"No! God, Bella!" I tear my fingers through my hair and let out a deep breath. "For Christ's sake, you can't be this blind!"
She doesn't answer me and my frustration with her silence leads me to push from the counter top and step back. I study her for what seems like minutes, waiting for her to acknowledge what we have, but she doesn't.
"I'm sorry," I say finally. "I thought...Fuck, I don't know what I thought." It all sounds so silly now; a magnet and steel. "I'll leave you alone."
I turn from her and shuffle to the door. I've never had my heart broken; I don't think I've ever had all the pieces to begin with, but I know this hurts. It aches and constricts my chest. This is rejection.
"I feel you," Bella whispers. Her words travel to my legs with the weight of lead, rendering me immobile. "I feel you," she says it louder, finding it easier to speak when she isn't facing me. "As soon as you step into Biology. My heart swells and my body gets warmer. My blood is hotter, veins are on fire. I-I don't know how to explain it," her voice quivers. "I can hear you breathe. It's like it travels through the air in a direct path to my lungs. I don't understand it, but you make me...feel...when you touch your...God, Edward," she whimpers my name.
"Fuck," I curse low and deep. My strides are long and fast and they lead me back to her. "No one has ever...This...What we have..." I struggle to find an appropriate term. "This has never happened to me before. I don't know how to react to you. You make me crazy," the words tumble out of my mouth, unfiltered. I hover and dip my head, lowering my lips until they are a fraction of an inch away from her neck. "I just want to feel you," I press on and murmur into her skin. "Please," I'm begging her. "I won't hurt you, I swear. Please, Bella. God, please just let me feel your skin."
Bella's hands find mine. She guides them from her thighs to her hips in a slow movement and spreads her legs so I can stand between them. Our fingers still intertwined, I tuck my thumbs into the waistband of her jeans and stroke the thin skin covering her hipbones as best I can.
"Mmm," she moans. Her hands leave mine and grip the counter behind her for support. Her head falls back and I lower my chin to rest on her shoulder.
"You okay?" I dig my thumbs in deeper, make my circles bigger and bolder and hedge down past the elastic of her panties. Magnet and steel, fire and ice; she melts underneath my touch.
"Yes," she breathes. "Oh!" Without warning, I grip both of her hips and press myself into her. I keep my head down and slowly begin to rotate my hips into hers. She's wet and alive and burning beneath my hardness, but I'm not going to push this. This isn't about me achieving orgasm or forgetting what awaits me tomorrow at home. I just want to feel her skin; know that she's real.
The tiny vibration in my pocket is a harsh reality. It makes me lift my head and put distance between Bella and I. Her lips are swollen and red, like I've been sucking and kissing them with vigor, and her eyes are completely dilated. She turns away from me and reaches for her tea, but I cage her in again. Pressing myself against her back, I try to make two beings one. I wrap my free arm around her waist and just press against her for all I'm worth. Her tea stays on the counter and her head drops back again with a soft cry.
"Hello?" I answer my phone, a bit breathless.
"Edward?" An unfamiliar voice asks. "This is Michael Hartman from next door. You need to get home right away. I'm afraid there's been a fire."
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