Summer Girl
Chapter Eight
I woke up the next day to the sun shining right in my face and a loud shout from downstairs. I rolled over to find that it was already after three in the afternoon, and promptly continued rolling right out of bed, my bare feet hitting the cold wood floor with a smack.
Fluffing my hair with my hands, I padded across the floor and headed down the stairs to see what the commotion was. I met Angela halfway.
"What's up?" I asked, my voice still a little raspy from sleep.
"Your parents are going insane over the dinner party," she explained. "They've got people running all over the place setting things up, and it doesn't even start for another four hours."
That explained her frazzled look.
"Oh. I'm going to find food," I replied, realized that I was seriously hungry. We both continued in opposite directions.
I managed to slip into the kitchen relatively unnoticed—by my parents, at least—and hopped up onto the counter with a package of Pop-Tarts, ripping it open and munching on the strawberry pastries as I watched the random workers run around the kitchen madly.
I was just popping the last of my second Pop-Tart into my mouth when Renee made an appearance. She was following behind a man that was carrying an obscenely large cake, barking orders at him so intently that she didn't notice me until well after the man had the cake safely settled on the island counter.
"Bella! You look terrible. Go get dressed," she commanded.
I rolled my eyes and jumped off the counter, brushing past her to head to my room.
"And don't sit on the counters!" she added.
"Morning, honey," Charlie said as I walked by. I flashed a smile at him before heading up the stairs.
I reached my room and headed straight for the bathroom, appraising myself in the mirror above the vanity.
My mother had been right. I looked terrible.
I snapped the shower on and took my time washing the grease and dirt from my hair and body. After I got out, I spent an even longer time blow drying and styling my hair to perfection, not to mention the time it took to pick out the perfect outfit and apply my makeup.
When I was done, a glance in the mirror showed a rather elegant girl with brown curls pulled into a messy bun wearing a simple white and black knee length Gucci dress. It wasn't my favourite look, but I didn't look absolutely atrocious like I had before.
I was digging in my closet for the Prada shoes that matched my dress when I heard my phone vibrate and chime from somewhere in the bathroom. I looked over to see the phone slowly sliding toward the edge of the vanity, threatening to fall off. I jumped up and caught it just before it fell, flipping open the text messages to see one from Edward.
When do you want my ass over there?
I did a quick calculation in my head and texted back.
Seven. And you better dress nicely.
I went back to digging and located one of the elusive shoes before the phone vibrated again.
So little faith.
Rolling my eyes at Edward's words, I found the other black pump and pulled them both onto my bare feet. I threw my phone onto the bed and clacked down the stairs to see my parents sitting on opposite ends of the couch, looking exceptionally tired, even though they had done nothing but yell at others.
"Bella," Renee said, motioning for me to come over to them. I did so, sitting on the chair across from them and looking at them questioningly.
The words out of my mother's mouth next surprised me.
"Could you go help Angela with the flower arrangements? I would do it, but I am so tired."
I gaped at her. "I'm not a maid."
"Bella," Charlie chimed in, his tone stern. I huffed and got up, shooting them a glare, which they didn't see, and walking into the dining room.
"Good afternoon, Miss Bella," Angela chimed as she put a daisy into a vase. "You look gorgeous."
"Thanks, Ang," I sighed out, sitting down in one of the carefully covered chairs. I watched silently as she bustled around the room, fixing all the flowers and placing them in strategic places. She didn't really need my help at all, for which I was grateful.
"What time is it?" I asked when she was finished.
She glanced at her watch and responded, "Six-thirty. I need to go check on the caterers. Excuse me." Angela disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me to stare at the flowers blankly.
The doorbell rang then, making me jump, and the loud voices of the early arriving guests and my parents drifted into the room.
"Bella!" Renee called for what seemed like the millionth time that day. I sighed and went out to greet the guests. From then on, it was guest after guest, unfamiliar face after unfamiliar face, handshake after handshake.
"Well, hello. Who are you?" Charlie's voice saying anything other than the usual 'Welcome' caught my attention, and I glanced over to see a familiar hand being clasped by my father's.
"I'm Edward Cullen," the newcomer said. "Bella invited me."
"Oh, Bella did, did she?" Renee asked, looking over at me. "Did you invite all your friends, Isabella?"
Before I could open my mouth to reply, Charlie said, "Cullen. Esme and Carlisle's son?"
Edward nodded, and Renee's attention was diverted from me. "Oh, the Cullens! We used to be great friends. How are they?"
Edward muttered something in reply and the conversation continued as we headed toward the dining room, where the guests had already been seated. Renee called for Angela to bring another chair for Edward, and we sat down, Edward next to me and across from my parents.
We began to eat and my mother started to chat with other guests, but Charlie and Edward kept their conversation going. As far as I could tell, Edward was giving him the details of his mother's work in Africa.
I was taking my time with chewing on a piece of meat when Charlie asked Edward whether he remembered playing in Central Park with me when we were little.
It took a moment to sink in, but when it did I swallowed my mouthful and snapped my head in Edward's direction just in time to see him nod.
The gears in my mind began to click. All of Edward's comments... the dream I'd had... they all made sense now.
Charlie said something about it being nice to talk to him and fell into a conversation about the stock market. I looked over at Edward to see him staring at his plate, his expression guilty.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I hissed.
He shook his head. "Later."
I fumed for the rest of dinner and was glad when the final plates were cleared and my parents began saying their goodbyes. I grabbed Edward's shirtsleeve and yanked him out of his seat and up the stairs to my room. Slamming the door behind us, I crossed my arms and glared at him.
"So?"
He sighed and lifted a hand to scratch the back of his head. "It's complicated..."
"I don't see what's so complicated about it, Edward. Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't want to freak you out," he started lamely.
I raised my eyebrows at him.
"Bella, think about it. If I had come up to you that day on the beach and said 'Hey, Bella, it's me, Edward Cullen!', you would have completely freaked."
"Not necessarily..." I said weakly.
He rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, you wouldn't have been scared of some random person that said he knows you practically stalking you back to Manhattan."
I winced. "Why did you tell me I was never going to see you again, then? Why would you lie like that?"
"I didn't know I was staying here," he said. "I thought I was going back to Africa. It wasn't until later that my parents told me we were staying." He bit his lip and looked at me, his expression almost hopeful.
I sighed. "You should have told me once you knew."
"Maybe."
"Not maybe. Yes."
He grinned. "Maybe."
"Edward, shut up."
"...maybe."
"You are so annoying!" I pushed him backward so he lost his footing and landed on the bed and glared at him.
"You love it."
I stood still, contemplating his words, and was taken by surprise when he grabbed my wrist and pulled my down on top of him.
"Say it, Bella. You love it," he teased in a sing song voice, his breath on my face.
I smirked. "Maybe."
"To think I've missed more than ten years of your life and you're still almost exactly the same..." Edward mused.
"Oh, shut up. I must have changed some."
"Nope. You're still annoying and on top of me."
I stared at him blankly, wondering how in the hell I was ever on top of him when we were little, then decided it didn't really matter when his lips were right fucking there and kissed him.
Yum.
When we broke apart I smirked and said, "You know, you were the one that put me on top of you, so that's not exactly my fault."
"You didn't move," he pointed out.
"Touché," I muttered, admiring his ever greener eyes.
Suddenly, a continuous vibrating noise from beneath Edward cut into our staring contest. I jumped up and he rolled over, grabbing up my phone and answering it.
"You've reached Bella Swan," he intoned, then listened for a moment. "Certainly." He held the phone out to me.
"Hello?"
"Bella, this is Nessie. Will you meet me at Jackson Memorial Park tomorrow?"
*cue close up on Bella's face and dramatic scene ending sound effect*
