All too soon
All too soon we found ourselves back in my apartment, Bella looking expectant and Seth looking through my bookcase. The atmosphere was relaxed, not.
Silence stretched as I tried to work out quite how this ridiculous situation had come to envelop me in its heavy sludge. Despite having been invited to the wedding, there wasn't really a bright spark anywhere on my horizon, other than the fact that Bella's new boyfriend lived a long way out of town. She couldn't see him very often unless she decided to relocate. Maybe I could kick his ass all the way to the moon, and she wouldn't be able to see him at all.
Fuck, it was quiet as a tomb and I could hear the sound of my life ticking away, alongside the dry whispering of the pages Seth was turning.
"Right. First things first. What's the budget?" I sighed.
The figure Bella quoted wasn't enough to decorate a shoebox, never mind a community hall.
"You're not serious?" I said blankly.
"Well, it's not as though my father is Donald Trump, you know?"
"Why are you even going to this fucking place? Why didn't you book somewhere that actually specializes in functions?"
Wandering over with open magazines in his hands, Seth said, "Because this wedding is on the rez, and the rez doesn't have a function centre. It has a community hall. Look, Edward. Don't panic. Charlie and Sue are both very highly thought of, and plenty of people will be willing to contribute whatever they can for free. We won't have to pay for any labor, we can borrow things we need, and what we can't borrow will probably be donated. Like paint, for instance."
"Okay. Fuck. What's the actual plan for the day? Ceremony and reception in the same room? Are we talking seats arranged in rows for the service, then tables being brought in for a meal afterwards? Is there storage for the tables until we need them? If we paint we'll need access as soon as possible. Is the hall already in use? Will we be able to get hold of ladders? When can we get in?" I asked, switching into business mode.
This wasn't the sort of thing I did since I'd qualified as an architect, but I'd done similar projects years ago. The budget would be a challenge, so would the deadline, but overall it wasn't going to be too difficult.
"Are there color scheme preferences, Bella?"
"Yep, there are heritage colors that have been approved by the tribal elders. I've got a list of what you can use."
"Great. Thank you. I'll get to work now. Anything else I need to know?"
"Um, number of guests, I suppose, things are still being finalized, I'll keep you posted..."
"I'd appreciate that."
Leaving me with Seth, and without my having had the chance to properly talk to her, Bella took off. Thank you, dear downstairs neighbor and orgasm-partner. Which will not be mentioned. Thank you so fucking much, and by the way, just wait. Just fucking wait.
For the next week, Seth and I were in daily contact and I found myself getting on really well with him. It would stand to reason that since Bella and I shared a similar sense of humor, anyone she wanted to spend a lot of time with might just be good company. Fuck damn. He was quick and efficient too, following up suggestions, negotiating with ease and charm, remaining calm in spite of the mounting pressure. Every day brought more cause to like him, and more cause to dislike him. I mean, I just didn't need the complication.
"I hit him, you know. Twice," I told Dimitri, shamefully drunk on a weeknight, knowing I had to be up and at 'em in the morning. At my real job. Which I was paid for. Which already took twentyfive hours a day.
"Yeah? Go you, dude," D said. "Did he hit you back? That's one big motherfucker."
"No, he didn't. He's too fucking nice," I lamented.
"He's nice?" D said. "Then what's he doing with your girl?"
"Oh, he's upper-case N nice," I answered, nose in my beer. "And do you think I've asked him about Bella? Because no, I haven't. And I might as well admit that he's good at this whole design thing, and he's probably handsome too, although I can't tell - who knows what girls think?"
"Who knows?" D echoed. "I sure as shit don't. Do you think I'd be sitting here night after night on my own if I did?"
"Well, fuck - why am I confiding in you then? I thought you were, like, the quiet observer who sees all."
"I don't see anything, man. I come out without my contact lenses. I like the world blurry."
"Jesus. You're still on my Christmas card list, Dimitri, but this is the last time I come to you for advice. You're useless."
"You want advice? I thought you wanted support. I'm good at support. I'm here for you, Edward."
"Great."
"I think that guy's fucking good-looking, though. Really. For chicks, I mean."
I didn't know quite what it was that kept me from bounding up the stairs and knocking Bella's door down to demand her side of the story. I thought about it - oh God, I fought the inclination every fucking night, but somehow I knew she'd be off her head with stress about her dad's big day, even more so than me. She'd either bite my head off, or curl into a ball like an armadillo bug and refuse to speak to me.
I had an unacknowledged fear too, the one I'd had all along. The fear that she'd say, "Well, actually Edward, you and I are friends and everything, but the thought of an actual relationship with you involving sex is just squicky. I have to thank you for letting me have a go at your peen since I hadn't been anywhere near one in so long, but thanks to my spectacular success in giving you a beejay I've found myself confident enough to go after someone I actually find attractive. And, you know, give him spectacular beejays. So yeah, thanks. By the way, Seth wants to shake your hand."
Besides, I was so fucking busy at work, and with keeping Bree on track. She and the guy who'd started at the same time as her, Riley, were good, but they needed a lot of supervision. Both of them talked too fast and went too fast, failing to verify details sufficiently, and failing to listen closely enough to what clients wanted. They'd learn, but in the meantime I had to watch them. I staggered home late every day, so tired I could barely think about even getting dinner, and wanting nothing more than sleep.
"Movie? My place?" Bella texted on the Thursday, and there was no way I'd refuse, but I fell asleep on her couch within minutes of arriving. I woke at five the next morning, finding myself comfortable and warm. She'd brought me blankets. I wanted to go to her bedroom and get into her bed, wrapping myself around her until she was wrapped around me, but it just wasn't going to look classy. Five is not a civilized time to wake somebody up, especially if you're on precarious footing with them. I slunk out, exhausted, and didn't get back to sleep. Life - be in it.
Friday I didn't finish until nine, and was at Aro's by nine-thirty, looking for solace. Two hours of stilted conversation and killing off brain cells was just what I needed. To be truthful, I was hoping Bella would turn up, but she failed to show. Sincerely intending to be out of there relatively sober and fully functional, my plans went awry when Bree arrived with whatsername. The redhead.
"You dark horse," Dimitri muttered, observing as Ginger raised her eyebrows at me and shook her impressive mane, placing gold-tinted talons on my arm.
"Let's share a bottle of bubbly, Edward," she cooed. "You want some candy-cane? I've got a foil. We could go to the bathroom and get amped."
Well, that was direct. You know what, Ginger? A few weeks ago - if you'd made me that offer, I'd have rocked your world. Absolutely. We'd have snorted lines off the cistern top and I've have given you what we both wanted in a cubicle, after some tongue-teasing and fingerwork. And then I'd have taken you upstairs and done it again. For longer.
But I couldn't.
I was too preoccupied thinking about someone else who wore clothes from wrist to ankle; someone who was grumpy and not inclined to please; who read obscure and depressing literature; who had never seen reality tv, and who fixed her hairdo with a pencil. While Bella would never in a million years offer somebody drugs, I shuddered to think what her idea of a pick up line might be.
"Have you read "The Bell Jar?" she'd probably say. "What about that scene where the narrator has to be hospitalized when she nearly bleeds to death after she has sex?"
On being hit with something so confrontational the average guy would give up any hope of seduction. He'd go and hide under the nearest table. Or if he managed to remain upright he'd have to think of a response that encompassed politics and feminism and psychology and literature. And morality and philosophy and responsibility.
But Sweetness, you don't scare me.
No matter what crazy came along with the unpredictable package that was Bella Swan, I reckoned I'd take it, and happily, too.
So D shook his head sadly as I drank too much and didn't pay Ginger much attention. Without so much as a look over her shoulder she returned to Bree's table, clearly giving up on me.
"You coulda gotten some," he said. "Amazon-lady was ready to put out."
"Not my type," I replied. "Her hair's all over the place, she's skinny, and she's got a sharp tongue."
"Oh, yeah. Because you don't like girls like that."
"No, I fucking don't - they're nothing but trouble."
"Of course they are. We're on the same page here."
The truth was that Ginger hadn't shown me any sort of a spark. She was beautiful, albeit in an airbrushed, commercial sort of way, and she was clever, but she hadn't said anything that wasn't easy to respond to. She hadn't thrown me a single curve ball, the way Bella Swan did every two seconds.
"Not all trouble's bad, though," D said after a while. "You know, in terms of women. Some of it's good, I reckon."
"You think pain and confusion are good, you masochistic bastard?"
He laughed at me. "A-ha, Edward. You're in love. I thought so."
"No, I'm not. Stop laughing. And fuck off."
Dimitri shrugged. I slid gracelessly off my barstool. Somewhere, somewhere, Bella was awake or asleep, unreachable, untouchable, and too goddamn not mine.
.
.
.