Playlist: Baby I Love Your Way by Emblem 3, Fall for You by Secondhand Serenade
Chapter 5
2008
I told Alice I'd meet her at the back gate where we used to gossip between my band sets. I'm not keen on seeing anyone else quite yet, so I keep my head down, stay to myself. I take large strides through the crowds, hearing cheering already from all the teenagers in the stands above me. It's homecoming. I don't know whose brilliant idea it was to meet here for a reunion. Teenagers are loud and obnoxious. I'd rather be in a bar or a hotel ballroom than here, but I'm not in charge, so I don't complain.
The familiar smells of popcorn and wet trees invade my senses as I come closer to my destination. I turn my head up, smiling at the familiarity, but then my mouth gapes. There, beneath the dim light, under the bleachers is Edward Masen. His back's to me, but there's no mistaking that fall leaf red hair. That hair I used to grab and clutch for so many hours beneath these bleachers, on Alice's couch, on the overpass.
I blink, clearing my head. Maybe it's not him.
But it has to be.
He taps his toe, like he's impatiently waiting for someone. He turns, and when his eyes are on mine, his face warms with a smile. And my body heats with a familiar pull to him.
I thought I was past this. But I guess not.
1996
"So which one are we going to see? I don't want to stand out here all night," I whine.
I'm out with Jessica, Mike, and Eric. We roamed the mall doing nothing, and now we're going to see a movie, I think. I miss Alice. We haven't talked in weeks, and hanging out with her friends without her is agony, but I refuse to stay home and sulk while she sucks face with her boyfriend. So I go. I hang out. And it blows.
Jessica pops her gum, looking to Mike like he'll spontaneously choose a movie.
"Romeo and Juliet looks good," Mike says, eyeing me.
"No. Love is stupid. It turns people into idiots." Like Alice. Like my divorced parents. I sound so bitchy. I am.
Eric snorts but high fives me.
"Leonardo DiCaprio is hot," Jessica says, hoping to sway me.
"I want to watch something creepy." I cross my arms over my chest, rubbing them, trying to warm up. I should have worn a thicker coat.
Jessica's eyes light up, and I wonder why until I'm wrenched up, flipped, and hung over someone's shoulder.
"What the hell?" I bark, staring down the back of a guy wearing jeans and a flannel I recognize.
"Sorry. I'm going to borrow her," the familiar voice says. Edward.
Jessica pouts as I get carried away.
"Why are you borrowing me?"
"You look like you're being tortured."
"I'm almost positive I was."
Edward sets me down by the passenger's side of his car. "Where do you want to go? I'm all yours." His grin gives me hope, like tonight won't be a bust.
"My dad's working late. We can watch a movie at my place. Do you like horror?"
"I love it," he says, laughing and heading to his side of the car.
-OP-
"That girl is so creepy. I think she's satanic," I say, cramming popcorn in my mouth.
"Which one? There's like fifty girls in this movie."
"That one. The mean one. Her. Her." I point to the screen when Fairuza Balk takes up most of it.
"Yeah, she's weird."
We sit on my couch watching The Craft, sharing popcorn and the brownies I made from scratch. We've been eating them straight from the pan with one fork. Edward's not once mentioned why he really stole me away or why he's here with me. And suddenly I feel like a charity case.
"You don't have to be here. You know that, right?"
"Is that your way of saying get the hell out?" He eyes me, takes a handful of popcorn and throws it into his mouth one piece at a time.
"I just don't get it. Why are you here?" Why do you seem interested? I'm no one.
"I just ate dinner with my boys, and then I had nothing to do."
"No, but why are you here with me?"
"Because I like you."
"You have your senior friends. And I'm a junior. And your cousin's ex best friend."
"You'll make up."
"Stop diverting. Why are you here?" I take a bite of brownie and point our fork at him, accusing him of something. Not sure what.
"I miss you. Life in Forks at my aunt and uncle's is boring when you're not in it. Honest enough for you?"
"If you're being honest. Yeah."
"When have I ever lied to you?" He takes our fork from my hand and pierces the brownies.
I think hard to come up with something. "You lied about your age."
He frowns. "When it mattered. I was just being a dork, trying to be in control of whatever this is."
"What is it?"
"What do you mean?"
Is he that dumb? Doesn't he feel this tension between us?
"This? Us? What is it?"
"You tell me." He raises his eyebrows, and I stare at them. They're full. They might even need a trim. I imagine him as an old man with gray eyebrows, torqued out and long, and I start to giggle.
"What?"
"Nothing." I picture a unibrow on him, and the giggle turns into a cackle.
"Stop laughing at me, jerk. What's your deal, you psycho?" He shoves my shoulder, and I nearly fall off the couch but catch myself. "Serves you right."
"I was just thinking about you old and stupid looking."
"You're old and stupid looking."
"At least my small boobs will be good for me then. Everyone else will be saggy baggy, and I will be perky." I nod triumphantly.
"You're obsessed with boobs."
"Someone told me they shrunk once." I wait for his response, but none comes. He knows I wasn't affected by that joke. "Look, I'm surrounded by pretty girls with perfect breasts and perfect bodies, and I look like a boy." I say it with sass to prove it doesn't bother me, that I'm just joking, but I'm not. And, as usual, he sees right through me.
"Why are you so insecure?"
"I'm not insecure." I want to cross my arms over my chest, but I keep still. I'm not going to give away anything.
It's he who busts up next. I don't think it's funny. In fact, it kind of pisses me off, so I shove him, pushing him off the couch.
"It's not funny," I say as I pummel his back.
"You're right. It's ridiculous."
"No one takes me seriously."
"Why would they, Bella? You're gorgeous."
I roll my eyes, but then his words reach me on a conscious level and I: "Wha-what?"
He sits up beside me, his shoulder bumping mine. His eyes are trained on the TV. Girls are trying to kill each other with magic, but I can't focus on that. I stare at Edward's strong jaw, but I want to see his piercing green eyes.
"If you don't see it, you're blind." He turns, his eyes now searching my face. "I see it. Everyday. Since the day I came here. And it's not just that you're pretty, you're—I don't even—you're something else entirely."
I promised myself after what happened with Riley I'd never make the first move ever again, but promises to oneself can be broken, right?
I hope so.
I place my hand on Edward's jaw, rubbing at the stubble there with my thumb. He leans in and I lean in and then our lips touch.
Warm. Soft. Full. Hot.
I break away, ducking my head afraid of what I'll see, but when I lift my eyes to his, he's smiling softly, like he knows something I don't.
"You got a room here?"
"Yeah," I say, tucking some hair behind my ear.
He nods his head upward, and I stand, pulling him to my room. The door closes behind me with a soft click. I turn on my nightstand lamp, and he scans my room. It has band posters like his, only not as many, and my wall's painted an emerald green. His eyes pop against it when he faces me, a small mischievous smile on his face. I want to kiss that grin away or maybe make it wider.
He checks out my music collection in the small CD tower on the floor. He takes out a CD and flashes the cover to me. "Really? Mariah Carey? I cannot kiss someone who listens to Mariah Carey."
I grin at his declaration and saunter to him, pry it from his hands, and chuck it in the trash. "It's Alice's."
"Oh, thank you, Jesus," he says, arms up in mock worship.
I shake my head at his silliness and wonder what we'll be doing in here. I'm thinking it involves my bed.
"So about this hood thing," he says, picking up another CD and setting it back down, "am I out from under it?"
"I hope so," I say, but I don't really care at this point if he is or if he isn't.
"Hope is good," he says, before pushing me onto the bed and kissing me until my lips are swollen and my eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep. But I don't care because I feel alive and happy, happier than I've been in a long time. It may have something to do with the fact that my hands are in Edward's hair, and I get to grab and pull, moving his head any which way I want. It's awesome.
We're on our backs, hands linked above our heads. He's absently playing with my fingers.
"When's the last time you lit up?" I ask.
"Who cares? This is better than a high," he says, turning to me with a grin and a small kiss.
"Do you miss it?"
"Most days, yeah. Seattle, too. I wonder what my friends are doing. What kind of trouble I'm missing out on, but then I think about you, and I'm glad I'm here."
"Really?"
"Yeah, you make things . . . better."
I curl into his side and smooth kisses over his neck, enjoying the roughness of his facial hair against my lips. I've never kissed such a hairy guy before.
"I should go."
"Okay," I say, through a sigh.
"Hey, I think you should know . . ." He props himself up so he's looking down at me, eyes serious. Oh, no. What? "I can't—I'm not the boyfriend type. I can give you this, but I'm not—"
Is that it?
"That's fine. Just be honest with me, and we'll figure it out. Okay?"
"Okay," he says, staring at the ceiling. He looks like he's lost his high, deep in thought.
Now I wonder what he's thinking. Why doesn't he want to be exclusive? But he's right: I'm insecure, and I'll take what I can get, even if it's not love. Not that I really believe in love. With all the poor examples around me, how could I? It seems stupid. For fools. Fools like Romeo and Juliet who ended up dead. I'd rather live and kiss Edward than find love and die for it. It's as simple as that.
"We can make out again, though, right?" I ask.
"How about right now?" One heavy leg drapes over me, followed by another until he's hovering. He lowers himself slowly, eyes on me the whole time. His body weight feels good, his hands on my face, warm and comforting, but nothing compares to his lingering kisses that build and build until I feel like I have nowhere to go but float into the sky and spontaneously combust.
A/N: Reviews are better than being under a hood.
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