A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts,
Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine.
Chapter 5 – The Opposite of Expectations.
Edward
I'm struck.
By ice. Or by lightning.
I don't know. What I do know is that my mind is blown. It's like that bewilderingly shocking sensation that races through your nerve endings when you accidentally dip your hand in boiling water; for a second, your brain tells you it's ice - or vice versa. The point is, at this moment, I could either be suffering the aftereffects of electrocution or hypothermia, both unlikely scenarios while at the Jersey Shore in June. Yet there it is.
Shivers rack my frame, making me quiver from the top of my head to my pinky toes. I literally feel my pinky toes shaking in the sand. The unidentified, bewildering pricks hit me repeatedly and insistently. There's no letup. It's a full-out attack from which I'm unable to defend myself, caught as I am in an intricate puzzle, suspended in mid-air, dangling by a weblike thread, one as hardy and potent as that shot by the fictitious radioactive spider who turned a boy into a hero.
The thing is, the one who's to blame for this mental upheaval is no spider, and I'm no raw, naïve boy.
Yet, here we are.
Or rather, here I am, floundering amid the ensuing riot of novel sensations, my entire system thrown into an uproar because did I seriously just kiss this beautiful yet mind-jarring woman I've known for a minute? Didn't we reach a mutual agreement just moments ago that this idea was unwarranted, at best, inadvisable, at worst, because I'm currently too fucked in the head even to be considered a decent prospect for 'messing around' with? As far as I know, none of these facts have changed in the past two minutes; I'm still the trifecta of disaster I was this morning.
But damn. That kiss.
Or rather, that mouth and everything it engenders – melodious laughter, sweet lips, the Jersey accent. Everything to do with that mouth seems to put me in some sort of trance. One that makes me heady, invincible, and able to leap tall buildings.
Well, no, not that last part. That probably wouldn't end well. Yet…as I remain locked in Bella's gaze, the trio of disasters that have haunted me daily for the past few weeks appears in my mind's eye. They're as unshakable as Dickens' ghosts – no job, no home, no Tanya – invisible yet visceral specters shadowing my every move, but...
But now they flicker; disturbing visions, yet fleeting. Ephemeral. It's as if it's not just her mouth but her eyes that hold power over me. As if…held up against the flesh-and-bone vitality before me, surrounded by sand and sun…
"What is this?" I murmur, fearing that if I speak louder, I'll somehow break this bewildering yet potent spell.
And I do.
Bella's gaze had been softly on me as if she felt as incomprehensibly dazed as I did. But now her eyes grow wide, in the next moment narrowing, and it all occurs in such a blink of an eye that when I do blink and find her watching me through an enigmatic gaze, I'm sure I imagined the entire shift. She chuckles, but it's a more restrained sound than usual, and she mumbles under her breath, something I miss, though I think I hear the words "need a chiropractor" in there.
"What?" I ask.
She snorts. But then, angling her head, she studies me through dark, contemplative eyes. When she smiles and juts close again, pouting her lips, her eyes hooded, I take it all for the invitation it is. Our mouths meet again.
"What is this?" she echoes, her lips brushing softly back and forth against mine. Then she answers. "How about... it's just kissing. Just…slightly drunk, under the sun, side-by-side to the shoreline kissing. Cuz we agreed it doesn't have to be more…that it probably shouldn't be more." When she pulls away, her eyes again meet mine. "How about it's one step below messing around."
"One step below messing around, huh?" I repeat back, my brow furrowed.
Her ensuing chuckle sounds lively again. Impish. "As in...we kiss if we want to kiss. We talk if we want to talk. But there's no pressure to do either. If those two want to spend time together" – she juts her chin toward the shore, her eyes never leaving mine – "and it brings us into proximity, there's no awkwardness or obligation. No expectations. You're adorable...but you're a fucking mess, Edward," she grins, eliciting a grin in acknowledgment from me, despite her words. "So if you want to brood, go brood."
"I don't want to brood right now," I smile, shaking my head.
"Okay. But if you do, you can," she pretends to shoo me away with her hand. "And I'll-"
"You'll read a book and ignore me."
"Exactly."
"Yet another formula where four equals two plus one plus one."
"Yes! You're learning!" Jesus, her laughter is pure fucking music, despite the fact that even as I share in her amusement, some ridiculous part of me feels like a hot air balloon that's suddenly been riddled with about a million puncture wounds and now floats deflated back down to earth.
"So…we're the opposite of expectations," she says, trying out the definition.
"The opposite of expectations." For a moment, I find myself wondering what she saw in my eyes in the seconds leading up to the second kiss – while those ghosts flitted behind them. But…it makes sense. We literally just agreed that two plus two wasn't necessary. Or smart, for that matter. "Yeah," I expel with a heavy breath. "Yeah. The total opposite of expectations."
"'Kay." With a wink and a thumbs up, Bella backs up another inch. "All settled."
And despite the fact that it's all settled...I can't shake the completely irrational yet unsettled feeling welling in me.
A/N: Thoughts?
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