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not beta'd

storyline - Countdown

word prompt - initial

I stand in front of my closet, tapping my lip absently.

Edward has already seen me in my finest, so he knows I clean up nicely. Dressing nicely is a habit, anyway; I do it for work and it has started carrying over in to even my casual attire. Having little idea of what Edward has in store for the evening, I go with my initial choice: a long sleeved cashmere sweaterdress with a cowl neck. It's cold out, and I want to be warm, but I also want to look nice.

My phone rings as I pull my hair back in to a low bun.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Bella? It's Edward."

"Hey!" I study my reflection. Besides a little mascara and lip gloss, I've gone natural tonight. "How are you? How was your day?"

"It was fine," he chuckles. The sound makes me feel giddy-girlish. "Low key. I went over some paperwork that needed to be dealt with." He pauses. "Are we still on for tonight?"

"Definitely."

"Great! Ah, around what time?"

I laugh quietly. In our daze the evening before we hadn't even bothered to make proper plans. It is a miracle we had the presence of mind to exchange phone numbers and last names.

"I'm actually already dressed, Edward." It's comfortable to admit this to him, because I can see now he feels like I do.

"Perfect. I'm on my way. Give me the address again? I'll put it in my GPS."

I give him the address and he promises to see me soon.

Having nothing else to do, I dial Alice. She doesn't answer, so I leave a voicemail, letting her know about my date with Edward. Would this be considered our second date? Or first official?

Rose doesn't answer her phone either. It's a good thing I have plans for the night, because had I been in the mood to go out the girls would have been of no help. Pacing, I neaten up, straightening the throw pillows on my couch and tossing junk mail in to the recycling box beneath my sink. Right as I consider dusting, my doorbell rings.

Another look in the mirror, the one in the hallway this time. I look good.

After checking the peephole, I open the door to a smiling Edward. This was where I saw him last, only he'd been saying goodbye then. Now he's saying hello, and sweet feelings flutter through me. I feel like I know him already, which was insane. One day and one night of conversation and kissing hardly mean I know the man.

I want to know him, though.

"Wow," he says, his eyes running over me appreciatively, but not inappropriately. "You look beautiful."

"Thanks." I gesture for him to come in. "So do you."

"Are you just saying that to be polite?" he murmurs, his eyes twinkling.

I want to kiss him that very second, so I do. Taking a deep breath, I close the door behind him and press my lips to his. His lips are warm, and he responds, just barely kissing back.

"No, I meant it," I say once we're apart.

The lighthearted glint in his eye has been replaced by something of a smolder. He takes my hands in his and links our fingers. It is innocent, almost affectionate, but it speaks to me of more intimate things.

"Well. Thank you," he says.

I nod, searching those dark-light eyes. There was so much between us, tension, unsaid things, wants, but surprisingly, not awkwardness.

He nods toward the door, tugging on me a bit. "Shall we?"

I squeeze his hands and let go. Slipping in to a coat, I grab my purse and follow Edward out the door.

We make small talk as we head downtown. I like sushi and so does he, so without further deliberation we head to a cozy spot the both of us are familiar with. My office orders from there every now and then, but it's been a while since I've actually dined there.

Over sake we delve in to the shallow and then deeper things; maybe the alcohol has loosened our tongues.

He's 33. I'm 28.

He works in finances, I work in law.

He's the youngest of three, I'm an only child.

He rents but is ready to own. He's been looking at houses over the last several months, but nothing has felt right. I would wonder why he doesn't already own, but then he tells me he did once.

He got rid of the house when he and his wife of four years split.

I nod politely and pop more edamame in to my mouth, trying not to show how caught off guard I am.

"Say something," he says.

Our eyes meet; his are cautious, vulnerable.

Swallowing, I wipe my hands on a napkin. I take another sip of sake.

"I'm just… surprised. You don't seem… I don't know. Like you have baggage." I shrug, trying to articulate exactly what I mean. "You don't seem old enough to be divorced, but I guess you are."

I sound like a rambling idiot so I stop there.

"We got married young," he admits, drawing his finger in circles on the tablecloth. "But... after a while we drifted apart. I was doing my thing, she was doing hers, and then she wanted kids." He pauses, looking intently at me.

His gaze burns, but I return it, wanting to prove I'm ready for whatever it is he has to say. "And you didn't want kids?" I ask quietly, when he doesn't continue.

"I can't have kids," he says. Now he's the one sipping sake.

This is heavy conversation for a second-first date.

But then I reach across the table and quiet his hand with my own.

There isn't anything I can say, really. Oh, it's fine if you can't have kids. I mean, really? What if he wants them? Or what if he doesn't want them, but it makes him feel unwhole because he doesn't have the option?

Or maybe he thinks I will think less of him, that I will find him less appealing as a potential boyfriend or something. A potential match.

But none of that matters to me. I just want him. I know there is a lot we have to discuss if we get serious – and I think we will – but for now it is enough and I'm all right.

Something in my face makes him smile, and that makes me smile.

"Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me." I'm shy when I say this, because the words sound kind of corny, but I mean it.

He nods, glancing around the restaurant before focusing on me again. "I don't know if that makes a difference…"

"It doesn't." I look at the table. "At all. I've never met anyone like you."

"I don't really date, Bella. Not a lot. But I want to date you."

My heart skips in my chest. "I'd like that."

Our food arrives, and we don't speak much after that.

Well, not with words. But his eyes and my eyes… they just can't shut up.