Chapter eighteen
My stomach roiled with butterflies and I had a hard time trying to sleep that night of the mall dumpster prom. I was excited and hopeful, all full of anticipation and trepidation. It occurred to me that this feeling, this thing… it was falling in love all over again. I had always loved him, but now, it was starting all over again, into this new and real thing, too.
"I wish you'd change your mind," Rosalie lamented over the phone.
"Why? You're going to be all over Em all night, anyway," I said. "I don't want to keep you from…I don't know. Hand jobs under the bleachers or whatever he's going to try to convince you to do."
"Ugh. That was freshmen year," Rosalie said. "We've matured. He'll take me to the car."
"You have fun with that," I said with a small smile.
"But your dress. I mean. You're not going to regret it at all? Senior prom only happens once, dude," Rose said, her voice cautiously pinched, but in a different way from the last few years of pinched phone calls between Rosalie and Bella. So, I thought about it.
Sure, senior prom only happens once, but I didn't want to spend it wanting to be somewhere else. The entire time I'd just be staring at the clock or texting Edward, anyway. What's the point in forcing a memory that you'd rather not experience in the first place? I had a sudden vision of being like, thirty-five and only remembering half-heartedly pumping my arms to Katy Perry and hiding out in the bathroom.
"No, Rose. I want…other things," I finally said.
"I know. Really, I only want you there because you just make me look way better on the dance floor," she laughed.
"Goodbye, jerk."
I rolled my eyes and hung up on her, but I didn't put my phone down. I stuck one thumbnail in my mouth and used the other to quickly dial, ignoring the roaring butterflies in my stomach.
"Bella?" Edward answered on the fourth ring.
"Hi. So. I know I just saw you and I know we're going slow so don't think I'm a lunatic-"
"Please, I've seen the inside of your locker. You built me a shrine. I know I'm on your mind," he said, and I grinned at how sometimes, that cockiness showed—even if it was just a joke on his own behalf.
"Ugh. I took that down. Listen," I started, now determined to go ahead as his mood seemed pretty bright.
"Okay."
"Would you...go to dinner with me?'
"What? Why?"
"Because."
"I just ate. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Would you just go to dinner with me?" I asked again, my cheeks burning something fierce, thinking this was such a dumb idea.
"Okay...?" he said slowly.
"Edward. I'm asking you out on a date."
"Is that what this is?"
"Edward."
"Oh. For real?" he asked, a small chuckle reaching out across the line.
"Yes. So just please, put me out of my misery and answer. You're making me nervous," I told him.
"Hmm. Will you be paying?"
"I am a modern woman, so yes."
"Will you come in and meet my dad and promise to have me home by ten?"
"Please be nice to me right now."
"Will you promise to not get all handsy?"
"I'm hanging up on you now."
"Wait. Yeah. Yes. I'll go. Other than every reason ever, why not. Right?"
"Are you sure?"
"No. Not at all…but I want to. So."
"Really?"
"No. I'm lying to you right now."
"Stop it!" I shrieked.
"I'm nervous too!" he shouted back.
"This is so dumb. I'll pick you up tomorrow. I'm hanging up before things get stupider."
"Bella, wait."
"What?"
"I'll pick you up."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," he said, like I was an idiot. "Just...mind your manners."
"Okay."
"Wow."
"Wow."
"I'm hanging up."
"Okay."
And we both hung up.
I don't know what he did, but I flopped on my bed and screamed into my pillow, like we were fourteen again.
xxxxx
"Bella!" Charlie called, opening the door to see Edward standing there.
Charlie looked from me to Edward and back again.
"I see," he said, narrowing his eyes.
"Don't, Dad," I warned, grabbing my bag from the couch while he held out his hand and shook Edward's.
"Be nice to my daughter."
"Dad!" I blanched. "Seriously?"
"And have her in by…do almost-high school graduates have curfews?" Charlie asked.
"No, they don't," I said, pushing past him.
"Don't be out too late," Charlie said but I was like, already bounding off the porch and striding to the car.
"I'm sorry. He's still…him," I sighed, pulling my seat belt on as Edward started the car.
"He was being nice to me," Edward said.
"What?"
"He was treating me like I'm any guy picking up his kid," he said, backing the car up. "It was nice of him."
"Is Charlie your best friend now?"
"Yeah. So don't talk shit about him," he grinned.
We were at the end of my street when things had gone decidedly quiet.
"Is this weird?" he asked, still paused at the sign.
"I don't want it to be weird."
"I know. But if we make this all…first date-like, it could get weird real quick."
Well, if you keep saying it's weird, it will be!" I said, exasperated.
"Okay, okay. Where are we going?" he asked and I stared at him blankly. "Wait a sec. You call to take me on a date and haven't actually planned the date?" he scoffed, shaking his head at my shame.
"Sorry?" He sighed and eased the car forward.
We ended up in a fast-food drive thru, me dictating my order by shouting out over him.
"There's no way you're eating all of that," he said, once my bag of food was in my lap.
"Watch me," I said, sticking a straw in my vanilla milkshake.
We drove and drove until there was nothing, not even a dirt road, really, just an old gravel path that hadn't been used in years.
"This looks like the perfect crime scene spot," I blurted out, cringing even as I said it. I had to slowly unclench my fist from around my cup, easing out a breath and waiting for... whatever would come next. I stared at my lap with unseeing eyes until he tapped the side of my head. "Sorry about that."
"It's okay," he said, an amused smile on his face. "It's okay. It was funny."
"It was not."
"Okay, it wasn't, but that's just because you're shitty with quips when you're nervous. But it wasn't offensive to me, either."
"I wasn't thinking, I just-"
"I love that you weren't thinking of it. Okay?" He chuckled again, and this time it was light and teasing. "Bella. I've been out, hanging out with people, living life for awhile now. It's not always eggshells with me. Okay?"
I nodded slowly as he held my gaze, and I was just going to have do and say and breathe and hope and trust that if something wasn't okay…he'd let me know.
"Okay," he said slowly. "You know, I know I get volatile and moody, but things were intense with you for awhile. Just... the confusion of you and me, and I think you kinda got it worse than most. But the more I can just…relax into this…you seem to be under the impression that I'm not aware that great things can happen, too. But I am. In a way…all of the things that plague me are the very things that make me aware that…you know. As long as you're alive, you can overcome."
"Do you ever think about where we would be right now, if that hadn't happened?" I asked.
"Hah. Bella, that's a tricky game," he said. "Look. I still get angry and I still think about everything I can't get back. Or just how things could've been different. It's weird thinking that there was a whole other fate for me, or me and you, or whatever. I'll never know how I would've turned out. But you know what I realized?"
"Hmm?"
"I found out that pondering that shit will make you crazy."
"You'll never know," I confirmed. "You can't think what if."
"Exactly."
He laid his head back on the seat and looked at me, from my lips and up to my eyes and back again, his expression cautious; guarded but…something else, too.
"Bella..." he whispered.
"What?" I whispered back, my heart falling and swirling, certain we were on some kind of knife's edge.
"You've got ketchup on your chin," he said, laughing and tossing a napkin at me.
"Oh my God, you are so mean," I said, swiping the ketchup from my chin. "All I ever do, day in, day out, is think of you. And you're so mean." It was a calculated risk, that comment, and I knew it. But somehow, it felt right, mirroring old, painfully sweet words back at him.
"The look on your face..." he said, trailing off into laughter again. Either he remembered his old words or he didn't, and I found that I didn't are either way. He was being soft and easy and it just felt too good to obsess over my own words for once.
"I thought you were going to say something profound!"
"Like what?" he asked, laughing harder, palms up in the air.
"I don't know! That's why I was so intense! I was on tenterhooks!"
"God, kid," he said, shaking his head.
"You're a terrible date. Insults and fast food," I tsked.
"Hey."
"What?" I asked, tossing the used napkin at his face, but he caught it in his fist before it hit him."I missed you, too."
"I don't know what's okay or not," I blurted out. "I'm nervous to say or do the wrong thing. I think it's the weird date setting. The word just denotes like, romance or expectation. I don't want to treat you like a kid or something, but I don't want to ruin this either. So tell me what you want."
"You're not going to break me, Bella," he said wryly. "And if it looks like you're going to, I'll tell you to knock it off."
"Can we be serious for a second?" I asked, swallowing.
"Yeah."
"Can I touch you?" I asked, my face flaming with embarrassment, but I had to know. I've seen him have countless, ordinary physical interactions- with Emmett, Jasper, his mother, Tanya, even Charlie just a little while ago, but…touching for us has always had a different kind of meaning. Okay, it was downright sexual. I had no idea how that would translate for him now. And despite our hug, that very intense moment- I just wasn't sure if I could just reach out and…well. Touch him.
Edward sucked air in through his teeth and let out a breathless laugh.
"You haven't changed at all, eh? Always with the touching."
"Tell me."
"I hate that that's even a question," he commented, a pensive look on his face.
"But that's how things are now," I pointed out. "And it's okay. I don't mind having to ask."
"Work within your perimeters," he said.
"Uh. What?"
"It's a...thing I learned," he said, looking down, "like...work with the situation you do have."
"Oh. Exactly."
"Look, Bella...I have no idea. But this," he said, picking up my limp arm. He kind of shook it, making my hand flop around. "I have no problem with this. I don't like to be grabbed if I don't see it coming, though," he said, letting my arm go. "You can touch me in general, like. I'm not fucking spun glass. I think you think I'm this broken thing that can fall apart or break down at any second. Maybe for awhile that was true, and maybe the cracks will always be there. But I am me," he said, "I'm still me. I don't think that's what you were trying to get to, though."
"Not entirely, but that's good to know, too," I said.
"We should clear this up anyway. No carefree, right?" he said, then, "In theory...yes. Touch me all over, please. But I don't know what will be in my head. I think of you and I know what I want. I do. I swear. But then the reality of it, and when I really think about it? I'm not sure. Sex is still so indefinable to me."
"How do you mean?" I asked, turning in my seat to look at him.
"I know it feels good," he said with a smile, "or at least it can. But it's the feeling that comes with it that gets to me. You know? It's not the physical act, that's no problem. It's the stuff like...uh. Shame? Wrong in general. I mean, I still function? Fuck, this is awkward," he said with a small laugh. He sucked in a deep breath and looked off in the distance, seeming to scan the treeline or the skies or his own thoughts for a full minute before responding. "But when I do, I can get really upset. Sad, pissed, scared out of my fucking mind. For the most part, I think that I associate a really good physical feeling with the worst fucking emotions. They go hand in hand with me right now, and I just have to try to disassociate the two, according to my therapist, anyway. It's more the feelings it brings than the physical act. I think, anyway. I don't know. I haven't exactly put the theory to the test." He finished speaking and clear his throat, biting on his lip, still not looking my way.
"Thank you for telling me that," I said.
"Shut up," he laughed, shaking his head down at his legs. "You probably learned that that that was the proper response that on psychobabble day-time talk show. I thought I cured you of your Dr. Phil obsession." He looked down his nose at me, a ridiculously serious expression on his face, but I could see the old laughter in his eyes, the quiver in his lips as he held onto his own mirth. It was... it was a miracle, and it took everything I had in me to contain the triumphant swell of pride and happiness threatening to overset this moment that we were having. I took an enormous breath and plastered a placid expression on my face.
"No. Seriously. It's a big deal that you're telling me. To me. So thank you."
"Okay," he breathed, looking up, almost shy, with a small smile. "What about you, anyway? Have you-"
"No."
My firm response echoed and resounded in the car.
"Are you kidding me?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Nope."
He did a double take back at me and leaned in, his face serious and questioning.
"Why? We were so close, and you were...well. Ya seemed really ready," he said with a laugh.
"I think…look. Honestly? I was close to it," I said and he nodded slowly. "But I'm glad it never happened. I'm glad that…it will be you? Someday."
"Hah," he kind of breathed, a nervous bark of a laugh, then put his hand in his hair for a second. "You have been more patient with me than I had any right to expect."
"I'm not the hero here," I said. "The truth is, I would've waited forever. I'm not the hero. I'm a lovesick girl who happens to be a bit tenacious."
One corner of his mouth lifted and his gaze slipped past me. He rocked a second in the seat before giving a quick flinch, then he swore softly under his breath before he leaned in and put a hand on the back of my neck.
"What?" I whispered, my eyes darting from his eyes to his lips, his hand shaking on the back of my neck.
"Just…be okay with me, okay?" he whispered.
I had no clue what he was talking about, but he was talking so soft and sweet and near, his eyes almost pleading with me and so I nodded along, slack-lipped and willing.
"What do you want?" I whispered, but I knew. I knew as I put my fingers lightly on his chin and his lips twitched. I knew as I could feel the warmth of him meet my own warmth, and I knew when his hand on the back of my neck stopped shaking.
"I just want to try one thing," he whispered.
The certain uncertainty in his touch made me go still, but his wide, proud, hopeful gaze when he looked right at me made me lurch toward him, my hands in my lap, my fists clenched while he slowly took my face in his hands and gave a soft laugh before coming closer, nodding a slight reassurance to himself. "Okay," he breathed, so close to my own lips.
There was a time, many times actually, when I never thought this day, this moment, this very second would ever happen.
For a long time I believed our time had been suspended or snuffed out, those particular kids lost forever. But that moment, back then? Those kids in that simple time? Simply was not our time.
Our time is now.
I just wanna clear up one rumor I keep hearing, and like, when this story started getting read by people, I told myself and told myself that I wasn't going to get all involved in stuff, to just keep it to any directly addressed messages whether via review or PM.
But this... this rumor I keep seeing mentioned. It's just... I need to say something, you guys. Sorry for possibly inviting drama, but there you have it.
The truth is...
I am not Robert Pattinson.
Sorry.
Travis out.