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Word Prompt: Slice

Not beta'd.


As much as I'd like to go back to sleep after Masen leaves, it's impossible. I'm way too keyed up. Instead, I clean my apartment and catch up on some reading for school. I finish getting ready in plenty of time and go outside to wait for him.

I'm not sure what to expect of him or the drive, and when he pulls up, my stomach is knotted with anxiety.

He looks so incredibly tired that it's a struggle to stay in my seat once I'm inside the car. I want to wrap my arms around him and comfort him.

"You shouldn't be here," I say, feeling terribly guilty that he's not home in bed, where he belongs.

"I'm fine."

His reply is instantaneous, a standard response to a question he never really considers.

"You're not."

Without thinking, I reach out and trace my thumb along the purple circle under one of his eyes.

He sighs and, for a moment, leans into my palm. His lids slide closed. Then, he quickly pulls my hand away and looks forward, mumbling, "I'm used to it."

And there it is—the retreating.

The quiet surrounding us feels like my fault until he speaks.

"Showing up on your doorstep this morning was impulsive. I saw a problem I could solve and I solved it, but the way I went about it was rude. When you mentioned wanting to find a new rideshare partner earlier, it caught me off-guard. I had no right to ask you to continue to ride with me. I'm in this because I need the fucking money, which is my responsibility, not yours. If you want a new driver, you should look for one. I'm sure it won't be a big deal to find someone else for either of us."

I stare out the window, not knowing what to say. He planned his retreat before he even got into the car. He sees me as a problem, not a person, and he's trying to appease me to maintain his cash flow.

My anger waxes and wanes, but I don't let it show. I don't want Masen to see that he's upset me. Whatever his reason for doing so, if he's trying to pick a fight—and it feels like he is—I'm not helping him do it. My mind is on figuring out what to do about a ride.

There are a number of reasons I chose to rent off-campus. It made more monetary sense, for one; the apartment building I'm living in belongs to an old friend of dad's, so my rent is considerably discounted. I'm still saving a ton of money even after I pay for a ride to school. Plus, I'm not all that interested in dorm life. I'm not a partier, and I find noise very distracting. I knew I'd never get my work done in my dorm room, which would have meant endless amounts of time in the library. It was easier to have my own place where I could spread out and not worry about clamour or interruptions. I also don't mind the idea of commuting, and the time to get to campus isn't so long.

I'm not excited about the prospect of a new rideshare partner—finding another driver here in Claremont is unlikely—but I can deal with it. Being barraged with Masen's moods day after day isn't exactly appealing. When I get home tonight, I'll check the website for available rides, but I'd like to give driving with Masen a few more days before I make a final decision. I want to believe we can get past our differences.

I engage him in conversation a couple of times, once about his plans for the weekend and then about a song on the radio. His laconic replies suck the remaining hope from my body.

He parks the car in front of Sanborn Hall and turns off the engine; he normally leaves it idling. I'm instantly on edge.

"Will you be able to pick me up tonight?" I ask.

"Of course." He's annoyed with something, presumably my question.

"I'm done at 2:30. Send me a message when you're ready, and I'll meet you here."

"I can come find you."

"A text is easier. I don't want you to go out of your way."

"Listen…" he says, pausing to gather his thoughts.

Panic swells; my chest tightens. Whatever he's thinking, it can't be good.

"Let's keep this simple, ok? You have a seat for sale in your vehicle, and I need a way to get to school. It doesn't have to be more complicated than that. We're both mature adults capable of making this work. I'd appreciate it if you could have some faith in me and give this arrangement another week to work itself out. At that point, we can go out separate ways if either of us is unhappy. Does that sound good?"

"It's not as if I'd leave you with no ride, Bella."

"I know that, and that wasn't what I meant. You asked me for faith earlier; I was only asking the same in return. I thought you might appreciate having my expectations upfront."

"Fine." He barks the word at me without turning his head in my direction.

"Thanks for the ride. Text me with a departure time when you can."

"I got it."

Whoever I'm in the car with, he is not the man who introduced himself as Masen, the charming, polite, flirty guy that made me laugh and swoon. I think back to Rosalie's question about knowing his real first name and decide I'm seeing the brother she refuses to call anything but Edward.

"It's been a slice, Edward!" I say a little too sarcastically to be considered sincere.

He doesn't react to the use of his name, but I didn't really expect him to. He's too stubborn to give in now.

I hate that he's angry with me, but I have to let it go, and I try as I ease myself out of the passenger seat. This time I don't watch him drive off. Somewhere deep in my heart, I hope he's watching me walk away and hates it.


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