Hey readers! Really short, and just a filler so we can get onto the good stuff! Aight, this has a lot of backstory and feelings that Edward has for Bella...so let's just see how this goes!
Edward looked up at the ceiling, well, more like glared at it. He was sprawled out on his bed, fingers laced behind his head, feet dangling off the edge. He'd been so stupid, so weak. He'd allowed himself to become vulnerable, to feel things that he'd long ago shut out. He released a slow breath, removing his intense gaze from the spackled ceiling and letting his gaze wander around his room.
There was a large window, white honeycomb shades allowing some morning sunshine to seep into the room. It was as if it was filtered though, the gold removed and only white covering the room, making it devoid of the colors that usually filled the area. He saw his extremely large and expensive stereo system jammed into one of the corners, a black, streamlined couch pulled up close to it with an afghan draped over the back for when he liked to listen to music. His CDs were all piled onto large bookshelves, endless songs, titles, albums, and artists organized according to his favorites. There had to be over three hundred CDs distributed throughout his bedroom, and at least another one hundred throughout his house. His lips twitched into a half smile at the thought of that. He was a known music junkie, his iPod constantly tucked in the pocket of his jeans, earbuds dangling from his ears. It was just him, just what he liked, just who he was.
He sighed, rolling over onto his stomach and burying his face into the soft, down comforter. It had to be past six o'clock, the usual time he started his workout, but he didn't want to get up. Frankly, he didn't want to do much of anything besides sulk in the dreariness of his bedroom. His shoulder was throbbing rhythmically, a dull pain resounding through his entire torso with every slight shift, every deep breath. His jaw was tender to the touch, and he just sensed that a big, ugly bruise had developed against his otherwise flawless skin. He winced as he gingerly slid his fingers along the spot where Emmett's fist had connected, remembering the flash of anger in Emmet's deadly stare as Bella strode through Edward's front door, nearly tight to his heels.
He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, pressing more firmly into the mattress. He was trying to forget the events of yesterday: the pain, the horror, the passion, everything. He was failing miserably though, his heart thudding unevenly in his chest as he watched the memories unfold before him, like a video clip playing behind his closed eyelids. He couldn't forget the moment his mindset had shifted, the moment he couldn't take not touching her, the moment he couldn't think of anything besides her, the moment he regretted not belonging to her.
It was as if I giant weight had been removed from his shoulders, where it had been pressing down against him, like with every step forward, the weight forced him back three. But it was gone, disintegrated when she had captured her juicy, pink lip between her teeth, seductively, enticingly gnawing as she was deep in thought. And the way she teased him! That girl was sure to be the death of him someday. He could feel it.
It was agonizing, watching her so deep in thought, so concerned, and not knowing what she was thinking. Was she thinking about him? Or Emmett? Did she like it here? Or miss her home? That mere action, the absentminded tick that probably drove a few people insane, caused emotions long suppressed to stir inside of him. Forget stir, the feelings he felt for that doe-eyed girl had erupted, devoured him as if it were a wildfire, wild and free, and he was the brown grass after a long drought, subjected to be engulfed in the orange flames of passion. It tore though his being, through everything he'd ever known. Football wasn't even a fathomable subject when he was looking at her. It seemed to not even exist. All that was attainable, understandable, was the glorious, chocolaty swirls in her irises, the flowing brown waves of her silky hair, the curve of her smile, the blush that rose to her cheeks whenever someone so much as looked at her.
He would have given anything, anything, to brush the rough pads of his thumbs along the rouge color of the blood pooling beneath her skin, to kiss the corner of her perfectly pink lips as they were turned upward in happiness, to feel her eyelashes brushing against his as they looked deeply at each other, attesting to their feelings in one look. He would have done anything to have her breath wash of his face as he breathed her in, to feel her fingers stroking up and down the skin of his back, to have her hands fisted into his long, auburn hair, to just be with her.
He wanted nothing but to close the hefty proximity between them, nothing but to hold her in his arms forever. But he couldn't. The weight that had been removed from his shoulders, the burden he'd bared for so many years, the thought that he couldn't love or be loved, had been replaced against his chest, crushing down against his heart with blinding pain. He'd kissed her, finally become brave enough to capture her lips. But when he pulled away, she'd said nothing, just stared, blinking those perfect brown eyes. She'd said nothing! She didn't even move. Edward left her in the same position as before he'd kissed her, stumbling to his bedroom in a confused haze. He'd felt something between them, even when they weren't touching, there was some type of electric current buzzing between them.
She entranced him, infatuated him. She reeled him in, like she was the positive charge, and he was the opposing force. She'd utterly rejected him, and he still yearned for her, his mind begging him to conjure up an image of her face, to memorize her voice, her features. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he turned roughly onto his back once more.
This was getting terribly out of hand. He barely knew the girl. Well, the new Bella at least. He wasn't even sure she remembered the first time they met, oh but he did. It was one of his most cherished memories, but he'd shoved it to the backmost, blackest corner of his mind, forcing himself to never think of the instance again, to just forget it ever happened, but he allowed himself to relish in the moment now, knowing that he already was feeling the emotions that he thought he could prevent by forgetting her face, forgetting she ever even existed.
He struggled to breath as the past over took him, whisking him away to five years ago, before his pro football career had started, before he'd become a new person, before everything was so complicated. He was still in high school, young and dumb. He thought he was invincible, untouchable by anyone else. He'd been clubbing late one Saturday night, the joint bumping along to the beats of the latest hits. The girls around him were all scantily dressed, wearing tight miniskirts and tank tops, their robust endowments flowing out the low-cut necklines. He liked it. A lot.
The strobe lights flashed briefly in increments, allowing him only seconds to scan the faces of the crowd. He lifted his red plastic cup to his lips, watching a blond girl with bright blue eyes sway against the hips of another woman. He licked his lips, the buzz of alcohol washing over him like a warm summer breeze. He welcomed the feeling of being tipsy, the stupidity that accompanied any type of alcoholic beverage. He was eighteen, an adult and free to do what he pleased as long as he had his fake I.D. with him. Evan Simons. That was his name tonight, and he was ready to party as he slammed his cup against the bar and sidled up to the dance floor.
The crowd was gyrating, every girl grinding against someone that was fortunate to stand by them, or in some cases, unfortunate. Edward sliced in between the crowd, reaching the blond and digging his fingers into her exposed flesh, watching a wry smile stretch across her features. "What's your name?" he'd asked, pulling her backside flush against him. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, her hips swinging faster, harder.
"Tanya," she purred, her fingernails scratching at the fine hairs that lined his neck. Edward smiled and began nipping at the bare skin of her shoulders, hear her yips and squeaks as he did so.
"Edward," he had replied, continuing his quest to taste every inch of her flesh. Edward knew he was going to love this girl and leave her. That was exactly who he was. A player. That year, he'd watched his parent's fairytale marriage crumble, fall right to pieces before his eyes. And it was because of him, because of who he was and who he aspired to be. He believed that all forms of love were lies, something into a girl's pants, not that he ever needed to use the L-word when he flashed them his signature, panty-dropping smirk.
Tanya was melting beneath his fingertips like butter, palpable in her need, in her lust. She was easy, and Edward had full intent of using such qualities to his advantage. Until he heard her voice. Right to the left of him, a brunette spun around in circles with a few giggling girls, her brown eyes dancing around the room, reading every face. It seemed like years before that glorious gaze landed against him.
His heart sank when she quickly flitted her eyes to the next person, her expression never changing. She smiled and whispered something to her friends before sashaying off to the bar. "Excuse me," Edward murmured, Tanya nearly falling over when he walked away. She shouted colorful words at him before begging him to come back. He couldn't hear her.
It was as if someone had smacked him upside the head. He felt that Smashmouth should jump onto the stage and begin singing "I'm a Believer" because just the sight of that girl made him want to give up his ways, made him want to settle down forever, and he didn't even know her name.
He watched her order a drink, slipping a few dollars into the bartender's hand. He stumbled momentarily on whether he should just outright talk to this girl. She seemed outgoing, with her hypnotizing smile and swirling hips.
Edward swallowed his fears and approached the girl, stopping a foot short of her before speaking. "Hi, I'm Ed—"
"Bella! Come dance!" a burly man that Edward now knew as Emmett hollered. The Bella girl downed her drink and disappeared into the throng of people.
Edward flashed back to reality, running his hands over his face and exhaling quietly. One girl's rejection shouldn't hurt him so much. He could have every other girl on the planet, but why did he want her so much?
"It's just because she's playing hard to get," he assured himself, sitting up and tugging on a t-shirt and some gym shorts.
He threw open the door to find a familiar face smiling at him.
"Alice…" he growled.
"Oh, stop sulking in your room, Eddy, and come out and play! You're trainer is the best." The pixie-like girl flitted away, her bobbed hair bouncing excitedly around her. Edward sighed audibly, resting his forehead against the doorjamb as he heard Alice squeal Bella's name.
"Yeah, I know."
Review and make me smile! My writing is a bit angsty these days because my boyfriend cheated on me :/ But on a lighter note...I'm looking for a beta...any takers? ;)
