Playlist: Glycerine by Bush, Dreams by the Cranberries
Chapter 9
2008
As soon as I get in the bar, I snag Alice by the elbow and drag her into the bathroom. "You better start talking. Now."
She looks at her reflection and tsks over her hair then applies some lipstick.
"I'm going to kill you. Right here. In this stall. I'm not joking."
"I called him. I told him some things, and he wanted to come."
"You called him."
She shrugs.
"And told him things. What things?" I want to throttle her.
"Important things."
"How important?"
"Look, I know you like your job. I know you have friends and life is fine and dandy, but you're bored, and you're lonely, and you still have—"
"I don't. No, I don't," I say emphatically, but I know I'm lying.
"You do."
"I don't."
"Just have a drink. Socialize. It will be fun." Her cheery disposition and optimism make me want to puke.
"Fun?"
"Yeah, you know, fun."
"With Edward?"
"Yes, with Edward."
"Sometimes I really hate you."
"I love you, too, babe. And you know I would never have invited him if I didn't think you could handle it. You're stronger these days. You're different. I mean, after you made all those big decisions last year, I saw it. You pulled yourself up. You moved on. But there's still something missing. Maybe it's closure."
"Closure?"
"Maybe."
She shrugs again and pushes the door open.
Our group got a booth. As we walk toward it, Edward bursts into laughter, head cocked to the side, eyes bright. He's gorgeous.
"Have a seat," he says, getting out so I can scoot in and sit next to him.
The gesture and the look in his eyes, hesitant but kind, gives me the flip in my belly I used to feel when we were teenagers.
I should've killed Alice when we first got into the bathroom. This is all her fault.
1997
I'm on Edward's bed, looking through his music. He sits beside me, running his fingers through my hair. "No, Mom, I didn't—I don't want—I know it was only supposed to be a semester, but I want to finish here. I told you that."
He's been on the phone for ten minutes, his mom chirping in his ear, trying to sway his decision to stay. I think it's ridiculous since she's the one that kicked him out.
"You can't buy me back home." There's an edge to his voice, and I think he's going to start yelling. He doesn't. His hand freezes on my head. "How many? Are you kidding me? Well, of course I want to go, but not with—are you being serious? This is a legitimate offer?"
I turn, looking over my shoulder. He mouths, "Tickets," but I'm not sure what that means.
"Let me ask the gang, and I'll call you back. Okay. Bye."
I sit up, CD still in hand. It's Bush's latest album. He taps the case. "Mom got four tickets for Bush. They'll be in Seattle in a few weeks." His lips curve into a smile, and he leans down to kiss me softly. "Want to go?"
"You're serious?"
"Yeah." He laughs like it's ridiculous.
"I'm gonna meet your mother?"
"I hope not." I swat him, but he chuckles. "It has nothing to do with you. She's just crazy."
"Why is your relationship so . . ."
"She just doesn't get people. She wants me to be like Dad, and I'm not. I don't know where to start with her. She's overbearing and negligent at the same time. That doesn't even make sense, does it?"
"She's still trying."
"She's throwing money at the problem. The problem being me. Again."
"I don't think you're a problem," I say quietly.
"That's because I make you feel good."
"You do?" I ask, laughing, though I know it's so much more than that.
"Hell, yeah, I do."
I shrug and change the subject. "You know I'm going to salivate over Gavin Rossdale all night, right? And if he offers up something more than a concert, I'm taking it."
"Is that right?" His grin turns lascivious as he pushes me down and hovers over me.
"I just thought you should know." My hands are on his face, which is so close to mine.
"That's not going to happen." He's so confident.
"Why's that?"
"Because once you've had me, you won't want anyone else."
"Well, you better get on that then," I say, giving him permission to deflower me. Oh, how I want him to.
He smashes his lips to my neck and tickles me, making me squeal.
From somewhere in the house we hear a faint, "Dinner, you two."
Edward groans, and we go to eat supper. We play footsie the whole time while Esme smiles at us.
-OP-
We pull up to a high rise with a doorman. This is not what I was expecting. I imagined a huge house with a picket fence. And a maid.
"I'll just run in and get them," Edward mumbles.
He reaches for the handle, but Alice stops him with her words. "Yeah, right. I haven't seen Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Edward in ages."
I can't help my snicker. "You're a junior?"
"Shut up," he says, eyebrow quirked.
We park and head upstairs to his apartment.
The place smells of fresh flowers and is bright, lots of natural light coming through the large windows. It's beautiful but not a place I picture Edward feeling at home.
Edward's mother is stunning in some fancy, black business suit. Her red hair is vibrant, and her eyes are like Edward's—that same shade of green. His dad's not here. Working, she said.
She greets Alice with a hug and a kiss to the cheek and then turns to me. "So this is the girl?" she asks, holding my hands gingerly, like I might break.
"That's Bella," Edward says, annoyed with his mom. I think it's kind of sweet.
"He talks about you a lot."
"Mom," he says, warning her.
"A lot," she whispers. "I think you're the reason he's doing so well. I told him you should just move here for your senior year while he's at the U."
"Mom, Bella's not moving, and neither am I."
"We can always pay for room and board. Never say never," she sings.
"Can we go now?" he asks, acting like a grumpy, spoiled child. He was a bit of a brat when we were little, but since he's moved in with Alice, I haven't seen that side of him. I find it amusing, but I'm also concerned. I know he doesn't get along with his mom too well, but I don't know how deep this goes. Is he as hurt as I am? Maybe. But we're both alone. Together.
"Yes, yes." She swats the air and turns in a circle. "Where did I put those tickets?"
"Mom, come on."
"Oh, yes." She grabs her purse off a side table and rifles through it, mumbling. "Oh, Bella, did you decide about spring break?"
"What about it?" I ask, looking to Alice, who's just as confused as I am.
"You didn't tell her?" Elizabeth asks chidingly.
"I've only been home for a few weeks." He is so whiny around his mom.
"And it takes weeks to invite your girlfriend home? I met Kate the first day you had a crush on her."
"I was a freshman." He shrugs. "I was excited."
"Now you've just insulted your girlfriend. You should apologize; that's rude."
"It's fine, Mrs. Masen. And I'd love to come."
"Good, and you two can come, too." She points to Alice and Jasper. "Of course, only if your parents say it's okay. We were thinking about taking the boat out, maybe camping. I'm not sure. I just want to spend time with Edward before he's at college since he's made it very clear he's not coming home anytime soon." She looks pointedly at Edward and stretches her hand out with the tickets.
"Okay, thanks, Mom," he says quickly, grabbing my hand and leading me out the door. I barely get to say goodbye before he's closed the door behind us, taking a deep breath. His expression and grip on my hand softens the further away we get from his home. I can't imagine being this high strung every time I was home. No wonder he needed some sort of release, some distraction. Not that I condone his drug use, but I get it.
-OP-
The heavy bass thumps through my body. Edward's crammed behind me in the tight space between our seats and the ones in front of us. His hands hold my hips while I move to the music. Sweat drips down my neck and back, my hair damp with perspiration. I love concerts.
I scream the lyrics to Glycerine, hopping up and down. Edward follows with me, peering over my shoulder. I earn a smile from him and a swift kiss to the neck. The song dies down, and I look ahead of us, taking in the scene. The crowd is full of kids, full of couples like us. Only we stand out above the rest. At least, in my mind we do. Because we love each other. We haven't said the words, but I know it's true. I feel it, and I know he does, too. It's only a matter of time before we say it, I think. Perhaps by the time I'm here again in Seattle, in Edward's world, I'll be brave enough to say the words first.
Alice drives us back home, the hour late, the energy fizzing throughout the car. We play Bush in the CD player and sing the lyrics loud, still high off the concert.
"Gavin Rossssssdale!" Alice moans.
"I know," I scream right behind her.
"He's the sexiest man alive," she counters.
"Hey," Jasper complains, and Edward laughs.
"It's true," I deadpan, and Edward smiles before wrapping his arm around me, drawing me in close. I grab a fistful of his t-shirt and yank him toward me, kissing him. "Maybe it's not true," I whisper against his lips, and he covers mine again.
We make out for twenty minutes before the car grows quiet. The music's lowered, and he whispers in my ear. "It'll be good to be home. With you." Edward and I fall asleep in the back, my head on his shoulder.
-OP-
The warm water trickles over me, my hands in my hair, smoothing out the conditioner. I was exhausted by the time we got home and wanted to sleep for hours, but this shower is rejuvenating. The candlelight is nice, too. Keeps me calm but not drowsy. Thank goodness for Alice and her 'every room must have an ambiance' rule.
There's a soft knock on the door. "It's yours in a sec, Alice."
The door opens.
"You have no boundaries. I keep telling you I'm going to hide that key, and then what are you—"
The curtain opens up, and Edward's standing there.
Wearing nothing.
"What are you doing?" I ask, my voice small, my hands dropping loosely to my sides.
He climbs in, closes the curtain, and steps around me, letting water cascade over him.
I cover my mouth and stare. He runs a bar of soap over himself quickly, as though I'm not even there. He shampoos his hair, giving me a smirky, "Sorry," when soap flings my direction.
When he's done, he reaches out for me, drawing me close to his chest, wrapping his arms around my back. I am wide awake now. And, it seems, so is Edward.
He does nothing but kiss me. But it does everything to me.
He turns off the water and wraps a towel around his waist. When I'm dry and enveloped in a towel, too, he leans in kissing the underside of my jaw. "Come stay with me tonight."
I don't say anything. I watch him as he leaves, blinking through the steam in the room.
After catching my breath, I get dressed in my pajamas. They're not sexy by any stretch—an old marching band t-shirt and some sleep shorts. At least my underwear isn't holey. Alice is fast asleep, so I simply tiptoe down the hallway and sneak into Edward's room.
He's lying on his bed, towel around his waist, hands behind his head. He catches my eyes and smiles. "Hi."
A/N: Um, reviews are better than Edward on your bed in a towel? Yeah, I don't believe it either. Thanks for leaving some love.