When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them

I've been trying to get my head around,
What the fuck is happening?
I'm trying to make some sense out of
Whatcha doin' with my head.

It's like a skydive, you're getting high
That kinda thrill that'll maybe kill ya,
It's like I'm eye-to-eye, wild-eyed, oooohh
I don't know what to tell ya,
There's just this thing about 'cha.

~Ok Go, WTF?

Chapter 11- Blindsided

Crunch…chew chew chew.

CRUNCH…chew chew chew.

"Um, Bella? Did that carrot do something to offend you? I've never seen you eat with such homicidal undertones."

"This is bullshit, Rose! I've been eating nothing but healthy crap for two weeks now! I haven't lost a freaking pound! I'm going to the gym every day…EVERY DAY." I turned my homicidal glare upon Rose, temporarily switching the focus of my frustrations from a helpless carrot to an innocent friend. " Why isn't it working?"

Rose sighed. "Doesn't this stuff take time?"

"I know that…I'm not expecting to wake up tomorrow morning skinny, but really? I'm working my ass off and not getting anything out of it."

She took a moment to assess me, cocking her head and eyeing me critically.

"Your skin looks better."

"Gosh Rose, you really know how to put the wind in my sails," I said with a glare.

"You're probably not helping yourself much by getting on the scale every morning. Oh don't you give me that 'What do you mean?' look, Isabella Swan. You don't think I can't hear you creeping into the bathroom at 7am? Have you talked to Edward about it?"

I stared dejectedly at my food. "No."

"Why the hell not? Isn't this his area of expertise?"

"Because Rose, what if I tell him and he thinks I haven't lost anything because I'm stuffing my face with cake and shit when I leave the gym? I don't want him to think that."

"Bella, I'm pretty sure he's going to tell you that there's nothing to worry about."

I fingered the remaining remnants of my carrot with sullen dedication.

"Ask him when you see him today, Bella. You'll feel better," Rose promised, giving my shoulder a pat as she went to rinse her plate.

My sulky frown was wasted upon her retreating form.

I hate it when she pulls that 'I'm wiser than my years' crap.

At two in the afternoon on a Tuesday, the gym is essentially dead. This is perfectly fine by me, because we're working on my arms today. Let's just say that I have never had very good arm strength, heck even the grip in my hands is pathetic. I didn't need a gym full of people to see me flounder about like a lunatic.

I knew the drill by now. After changing and locking up my possessions, I headed up front to the Arc machine. It had a design similar to the elliptical machine, but the motion of its pedals was smoother and it didn't have the stupid arm handles that moved. The other plus was that it burned more calories than the elliptical or the treadmill. It was my favorite machine. I kept my pace moderate, focusing on really stretching into the movements and getting my heart pumping.

I spotted Edward as I was wiping the machine down. He motioned for me to join him, and when I saw the machine he was standing by I began feeling extremely nauseous. I had seen other, less klutzy, gym members use it, but I had a feeling that this machine required physical aptitude that I simply didn't possess.

It sort of reminded me of the dunking booths you see at county fairs. There was a platform that people would kneel on which supported their weight, depending on how you leveled the weights that were secured into the right hand side. Then they grabbed one of the sets of handles up at the top of the machine and began doing pull-ups, but with the platform underneath of them keeping them stable and counterbalancing their weight to a degree. The machine looked complicated…and expensive. As I approached Edward I was overwhelmed by an awful fear that I would break that machine if I tried to get on.

Edward had pulled one of the blue mats over to rest next to the big, scary, nightmare machine. He observed me with the same slightly amused expression that he used at the beginning of every workout. Normally I'd answer this non-verbal challenge with a snarky comment, but I was not feeling it today.

"Please, Bella, don't look so excited," he teased.

"I'm not excited…because looking at this setup here makes me think you have plans of killing me today."

Edward feigned a hurt expression. "I don't know why you think such things of little old me."

I crossed my arms over my chest, and bit my lower lip.

"So Bella," Edward began, transitioning flawlessly into business mode, "here's what we're going to do."

By 'we' he meant 'me'.

"One repetition of 15 on this," he continued, patting the side of the ominous pull-up machine, "and then you'll come down here on the mat and do 15 push-ups. Piece of cake.

By 'piece of cake' he meant 'you will cry like a little baby and I will enjoy your pain because I'm a borderline sadist.'

I wasn't exaggerating here either. If you weren't struggling with an exercise and on the verge of tears, he interpreted that as going too soft on you. He took the whole 'pushing' your self thing very seriously. The second time I worked out with him I thought I'd be a smartass and pretend I was having a really easy time on the row machine. I regretted that…a lot.

"So, Edward, when you say push-ups, do you mean the girly push-ups where you lean on your knees? Because I should just tell you now, I've never been able to do more than three of those, let alone the hardcore push-ups."

He frowned. I knew he really hated it when I went into Negative Nancy land before I'd even attempted the exercise, but it was only fair he have a realistic idea of my capabilities; or lack therefore of.

"You can do the push-ups on your knees," he answered. "Just do your best Bella. This isn't about achieving a certain number or repetitions with every exercise as much as it's about pushing yourself."

He always sounded so wise. Edward was like my gym Buddha. Only I didn't want to rub his tummy for luck…I wanted to lick it.

Let's translate some of that licking energy into workout energy, Bella.

Edward ushered me forward and I took a deep breath as I took an uncertain step towards the machine of doom. Stepping up to that machine felt like I was stepping towards a pit of venomous snakes. I put one knee up onto the platform and then froze in sheer terror before backing away.

"I can't."

"Bella…"

I shook my head. "It's not gonna hold me Edward…I'll break it." The words cut into me like daggers as I spoke them.

He placed his hand on my shoulder, and those gorgeous eyes stared down at me intently. "Bella, listen to me. I'm not going to make you do an exercise you don't feel safe with, but I think you're going to regret it if you don't try. Do you really think I'd put you on a machine I wasn't 100% confident could hold you?"

The lip trembling was starting now.

No, Bella! You will not cry like a spineless wimp in front of your trainer.

"Bella, what's going on in your head right now?" His voice was firm, but kind. I wanted to run into it and let it blanket me in safety.

There weren't adequate words to describe my emotional state. It was like some nameless shadow, some combination of every fear I'd ever had, was waiting for me on that machine.

Edward's voice was back again. "Whatever it is that you're trying to run from right now…don't. Stare it down, Bella. Use it."

A second passed, then two.

"Okay."

The voice that came out of me wasn't a lion's roar, but it wasn't the meek squeak of a mouse either. Being somewhere in-between was better than nothing.

It was not a perfect workout. That machine was harder than it looked. On my last repetition I was so fatigued that Edward had to support the platform a little, just enough to help me finish. He jokingly asked me what I called the atrocious form I was using for my push-ups. I told him I called it the 'Bella's trying not to fall flat on her face' form. I only managed to do two repetitions on the push-ups. My arms felt like they'd been ripped from my body, seriously mutilated, and then reattached.

No matter how hard an exercise is, no matter how many times you wish that someone would hit you very hard with a blunt object so you don't have to finish, there is a moment that occurs when you are finally done. Wiping the sweat from your brow, you are overcome with a feeling of accomplishment. You may not have done it perfectly, you may not have even done it moderately well, but you did it. In that moment, every other moment of excruciating muscular discomfort becomes worth it.

Until your trainer effectively kills your buzz by telling you that it's time to move onto the next exercise. Sadist.

I glared at Edward with as much vehemence as my fatigued brain could muster. "Isn't it normally procedure to start with the simple exercises and then move up to the big 'going to make you so tired you can't move' exercises?" I asked, as I guided the weight in my hands over my head and then back down.

He smiled and shook his head. The movement, combined with the sun filtering in through the window created a rainbow of bronze shades in his hair. "Better to exhaust your muscles with the hard stuff first because then when you move onto the simpler exercises they have more of an effect."

"You're the boss," I replied, only partially alert. I was busy noticing how green his eyes looked today. The normally dark shade of his eyes seemed a little lighter today, flecks of a softer mossy color playing against the normal emerald hues.

Physical ineptitude plus distraction…equals pain.

Unknowingly, I overestimated the distance between the weight I was holding and my head. As I went to raise my arms upwards, the hard edge of the dumb bell clunked against my temple, resulting in a jolt of pain that began skipping across my skull.

"Jesus Bella, is it really necessary to give yourself a concussion every week?" Edward exclaimed as he rushed to help me sit and took the weights from me.

I groaned and leaned forward, ignoring the moisture that had sprung from my eyes. "I told you I'm the klutziest person you've ever met times ten."

"I thought you were exaggerating." He squatted at my side, and even through the pounding in my head I was far too aware of how close his perfect face was to me. "Do you want some ice or something?"

Shaking my head to indicate a no seemed like a bad idea. "No I'm fine. My body is so used to getting hit or falling, the pain doesn't last long anymore. Just give me a minute or two and I'll be good to go."

My eyes were closed, but I heard him snort in response. "I admire your dedication."

I hadn't intended to be snarky, or to segue way into this topic in such a fashion, but the words tumbled out of my mouth of their own accord. "Yeah well it's not like my dedication is getting me anywhere."

"I'm sensing a little bit of frustration here."

I bit my lip and forced my eyes open. He was looking at me with an expression that was a mingled mixture of curiosity and concern. "Don't mind me. I'm just in a mood. I'm wondering why I've been busting my butt for two weeks and haven't lost a single pound."

"Listen Bella, you have to let the idea of numbers go. They're not going to give you a realistic idea of your success. You're building muscle here and that weighs more than fat. Everyone's metabolism is different. Some of my clients don't see weight loss until I've been working with them for a month. My advice…get rid of the scale and take measurements of your body once a month. The numbers on the scale may not move, but your clothes will get loose. Give it time, trust me, and you'll see results. I promise."

There was a soothing sureness in his voice. I suddenly felt very foolish for even bringing the topic up. Of course he wouldn't lead me wrong; he was the professional after all. I had spent so many years doing harm to my body with my eating habits, it was only fair I put in the same level of effort and commitment to finding my way to a healthy place.

After a few more minutes, the pain stopped ricocheting around my skull and I felt confident enough to stand. We finished up with the arm exercises and then headed over to the yoga area to work my abs. This session, even though it hurt like hell, I was able to do three full repetitions of ab-crunches. When Edward sent me off to do my ten minute cool down on the treadmill, he touched my shoulder lightly and said "Good job." It was a perfectly innocent gesture, a vote of confidence from a trainer to his client.

It made my skin tingle, and a shiver run from my stomach up to my heart. The feeling was scarily intense, like the drop in your stomach when you go down a rollercoaster. But when the ride is over and you're back on your feet, all you can think about is how much you want to go again.

The problem was that I was pretty sure I didn't have permission to get on this particular ride.

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"This is stupid, Rose," I muttered. "We could have just chucked the thing in a dumpster."

Her blonde hair played with the wind as she leaned against the shovel she'd procured. "Edward told you to get rid of the scale, right?"

I kicked at the ground and sighed. "He made a suggestion. That doesn't mean we have to be so theatrical about it."

Rose stood up, flashed me a cocky grin, and pointed downwards at the metal contraption in question. "There's no empowerment in tossing it in a dumpster. It's a metaphor. The scale represents all the pressures and misconceptions of body image. You've been told all your life that a scale will tell you the measure of your self worth. Can you really tell me that seeing it roughed up and turned into a useless hunk of metal wouldn't make you feel a little freer?"

She was insane…and overdramatic…but damn if she didn't know how to make a point. It wasn't like anyone would see us. We had driven out to a large field in the middle of nowhere. So at the very least we weren't bothering anyone.

Standing in the middle of a field with a shovel and a scale would be worth the weird vibes if it actually did give me a sense of empowerment.

Hesitantly, I took the shovel passed to me by Rosalie. "What are we gonna do after? I don't want to be environmentally negligent."

"I've got that covered. We shovel the pieces into a trash bag and drop it off in a dumpster on the way to Emmett's."

I looked at her incredulously. "How do you come up with this stuff?"

She shrugged. "I'm gifted. Now start hacking."

With a sigh, I lifted the shovel slightly and brought it down forcefully against the plastic face of the scale. I was unprepared for how the thud of impact would make me feel. It made me feel good.

I lifted the shovel higher. "You have no power over me," I growled, bringing my weapon down with more aggression this time.

Rosalie, ever the cheerleader, yelled her support at me. "That's right Bella; quote Labyrinth at that fucker while you make mince meat of it!"

Something animalistic took over me. I started swinging that shovel over my shoulder and bringing it down on that hunk of metal and plastic in front of me with every ounce of strength that I had. Every crack and crunch added more fuel to the flame.

You don't define my worth, scale. I DO.

The words repeated in my head, a mantra that spurred me on until I felt I had done adequate damage to my enemy. The plastic covering the spot that read the numbers was shattered. The plastic and metal that covered the scale had been dented and compressed, the edges splitting open in gnarled curves.

I stood over my work, leaning on the shovel and catching my breath.

Rosalie sidled next to me like a giddy school child. "Now's the part where you say 'You were right Rosalie' and bow before my infinite wisdom."

"You were right Rosalie," I obliged, a smile on my face, "now use your infinite wisdom to help me get rid of this hunk of junk."

Fifteen minutes later, the kids hanging out behind a local restaurant must have thought the two giggling girls who jumped out of a crappy truck to hurl a black trash bag into the dumpster were loony. We were, but honestly…who isn't loony these days?

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We had quickly been informed that Emmett's parties were bi-weekly, and when he was throwing a bash you could bet your bottom dollar that everyone in town under the age of 25 would be there. I'd done well enough at the first party that I found my nerves were almost non-existent as I followed Rosalie up the steps. Emmett greeted us with big bear hugs when we got to the front door, as if he'd known us forever. I did notice, however, that his hug with Rosalie lasted a little longer and his hands rested considerably lower on her body. Ten to one they would end up making out tonight.

Angela Webber greeted me with a smile. I'd discovered that she worked at the local bookstore and our love of literature had led us to form a fast bond. As per usual, Alice gave me a strange look that was a mixture of curiosity and dislike. An uncharacteristically bold part of me wanted to walk over there and ask her what her problem was. The rest of me was far too timid to actually follow through.

That would be a battle for another day.

Edward arrived late. Just in time for a round of beer pong. I was beginning to think that Emmett was an eternal frat guy. I wasn't a fan of beer and the wine was a little too strong for my palate, so I refrained from drinking.

I did pretty good food-wise, sticking to the veggie plate and an open-faced burger with a nice helping of lettuce on the side. For such a beer pong lover, Emmett certainly had some nice food at his parties.

When I wandered into the kitchen in search of another Diet Coke, disaster struck. I was face to face with my mortal enemy.

Lemon Meringue Pie.

I know. Most people's dessert weaknesses were things like Devil's Food Cake, or Cheesecake, or Ice Cream. But there was something about the tart lemon crème inside mingled with the fluffy lightness of the meringue that made me weak in the knees.

This pie was untouched so far, a picture of pie perfection. The spiky turrets of the meringue were slightly browned, beckoning me to break into its fluffy goodness.

That pie and I had a staring contest for a good five minutes. My mind pleaded with me to have just a little nibble, just a little sliver. I hadn't lost any weight yet, so a piece of pie couldn't hurt. The muscles in my legs, still sore and shaky from my from my earlier workout, told me not to fall…not to fail…not to undo all the work I'd done.

"Do you and the pie need a room, Bella?"

When I heard Edward's voice, a crimson blush of shame broke out across my skin like a bad case of poison ivy. "Lemon Meringue is my kryptonite," I admitted, hanging my head and waiting for my chastisement.

So I was completely thrown when he said in a teasing tone, "Then have a piece."

I glanced up in shock. "Um…pie isn't conducive to weight loss is it?"

He smiled and proceeded to grab a plate. "You can't completely deprive yourself of food Bella. It's unrealistic to think that you'll never have a plate of pasta, or a piece of pie again. A healthy weight loss plan is a realistic weight loss plan. It's not about never having a treat, it's about learning moderation. You worked hard this week. It's okay to have a piece of pie."

Grabbing a knife, he cut a small sliver from the pie, placed it delicately on the plate, and turned to me with what can only be described as the most temptingly sexy smile I had ever seen in my life. "As your trainer…I am advising you to eat this piece of pie with no guilt whatsoever."

I hesitated for only a second. "Well if you're going to twist my arm…" I grabbed the plate with one hand, and a fork with the other. My plastic utensil greeted the fluffy meringue like a lover, sinking into it slowly. I brought the piece of pie to my mouth with reverent dedication. The flavor exploded on my tongue like a pie version of Fourth of July fireworks.

In that moment…there was only me and the delicious taste of lemon and meringue pirouetting against my taste buds. I realized that if I was eating this back home, I'd be scarfing it down so fast that I barely tasted it. Here and now I savored every bite.

When I was done, I remembered that I was not alone. Embarrassed, I looked up and expected to see his normal expression of amusement.

I was not prepared for the smolder in his green eyes, the taught line of his lips, the way his body seemed to be orienting towards me. Startled, I froze like a deer in headlights as he took a heavy step towards me…then another…and another.

He was so close. I could see the twitch in the corner of his lips, feel his breath touch my face, and see all the flecks of green swimming in his eyes. "You have a little meringue… right here," he whispered huskily, his fingers coming up to tenderly caress my upper lip.

It was like a dream. I was Alice, following a white rabbit down a hole to Wonderland.

There was only time for a soft gasp before his mouth pressed gently against mine, soft and seeking, warm and consuming. A slow, long shiver caressed its way up my spine, and I melted into his touch.

Until reality knocked on the door to my happy place and brought me back to consciousness.

Desire was replaced with burning fear and a wave of confusion. Before I realized what I was doing, my hand flew up in an attempt to end this conflicting contact in the swiftest way possible…by slapping fiercely against Edward's cheek.

WHAT THE FUCK?

He flinched and released me, his hand flying up to his cheek and an unreadable expression masking his face.

"I'm sorry!" I squeaked, before tearing out of the kitchen like an animal fleeing from a wildfire.

Rosalie was in a corner of the living room, cozily situated against Emmett. Her eyes flew wide with shock as I practically flew into her, my hand clenching around her wrist. I spoke into her ear, trying to be as firm but quiet as possible. "I need to leave. Right the fuck now, Rose."

It was probably the f-bomb that clued her in to my desperation. Without a word to Emmett, she allowed me to pull her up and out the door.

My whole body was shaky and I felt sick to my stomach. When I settled into the passenger seat of Rosalie's car, the frail control I'd been hanging onto shattered and I became aware that I was chanting "What the fuck?" over and over again.

Rose was as yet, unaware of my complete mental breakdown. She was talking as she got into the car. "While I'm proud as a peacock that you've finally embraced your inner sailor with the whole cursing thing, I'm kind of confused as to what the hell is going on?"

That was my damn question too.

Even though I knew she was clueless, I found myself turning to her as the words tumbled out of me in a panicked shout.

"What the fuck, Rose? What the fuck just happened?"

"I don't know what the fuck just happened because you're having a word seizure and not making any sense!" Rose yelled back as she pulled out of the driveway. "Bella you're starting to scare the shit out of me. What's wrong?"

The words tasted of lemon and meringue as they poured past my lips. "Edward kissed me in the kitchen and I slapped him."

Rose blinked, and glanced over at me before returning her eyes to the road, and then let out a breathy "Oh."

I slumped against the passenger seat, my heart beat pounding in my ears.

'Oh' didn't even begin to cover it.

What the fuck just happened? My mind whispered. What the fuck just happened?

(AN)-I tried to make this chapter longer and interesting for you guys. Thank you for being so patient while I was in update fail mode. End of semester finals killed my creativity and it took me a while to reconnect with the plot. As always thank you so much for taking the time to read. It means the world to me to share this story with you guys.