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Chapter 8
Realizing you have a crush on your best friend goes a little something like this:
You realize it, and immediately regret everything.
I spend several days arguing with myself. I stare into mirrors a lot, thinking things like, 'You don't actually like him' and 'You're being dumb,' while knowing full well I actually really do like him, and I'm being extremely dumb.
The first time I see him after that night, my heart does somersaults; a giant clenching feeling steals over me, stalling the air in my lungs.
I'm in my truck at school and I see him walking across the parking lot, bag slung across one shoulder, hair styled just how he likes it, unruly and messy. And I'm noticing how well his jeans fit him, and how his jacket hangs just right, and when he walks up to Emmett and gives him a guy-hug, I catch sight of his face and the big, happy smile he has on.
I have to take an unsteady breath and look away.
I can't handle this. I don't know what to do with myself now, when I'm suddenly noticing that Edward is really, really cute. I've found boys cute before, but always in a general sense - never like this. Never to the point where I sit in class and wonder absently what it would feel like to hug them. What their fingers would feel like, braided between my own.
What it might be like to kiss them.
Allowing that thought to come through turns out to be my downfall. Over the next few days, I catch myself imagining it so many times, I lose count. I stare at his mouth. A lot. Whenever he speaks in class, whenever I pass him in the hallway and he's talking to his friends, the two hours we spend in the tree-house on Thursday after school — just… staring at his mouth.
I'm so unbelievably dumb for letting it happen.
And I can't stop.
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10 October 2011
It's a new week, Monday morning. It's been ten days since Edward touched my boob.
Ten days since Alice said he talks about me all the time. Ten days since I realized I've had a crush on him for ages, and I've just been the dumbest person alive for not seeing it sooner.
I feel like I'm losing my mind. It's getting sort of ridiculous. Pretty sure I have an ulcer now.
I lock up my truck and make my way across the parking lot toward the school. The only voice in the mass of sound I can hear is Edward's, from where he stands with his friends by Emmett's Jeep. He laughs, and it makes me want to look at him so badly. I mean, he's right there. It would be so easy.
But I don't. Of course.
I walk up the steps, weaving around the people sitting on them. Why they're doing this is beyond me. It's cold out here, what the hell.
When I reach for the door, it swings open under my hands. Half-tripping, I move out of the way as Mike, flanked by Tyler and Austin, shoves outside. Sadly, my powers of invisibility haven't kicked in yet, and Mike grins when he realizes it's me. He stops in his stride, standing just a little bit too close to be socially acceptable.
"Bella. Hey." His smile makes me uncomfortable. He has a weird smile, like it's not his own, but something he's borrowed. I bet psychopaths have smiles like this; I think I read that once.
Either that, or he's a Mr. Potato Head.
Mike Newton himself doesn't actually scare me. I mean, this is a guy who I know spent every day of preschool shoving something up his nose. It's sort of hard to take him seriously.
But he has the power to make people notice me. All the cool, important students at Forks High consider Mike a friend. If he wants, he can get all of them to actually see me.
He used to not really see me. I wish he'd go back to that. Since that day in Government, I seem to be pinging up on his radar all the time, and he smirks at me every chance he gets. Like he's made me the punchline of a secret joke, and he's just building up anticipation, waiting for the perfect moment to tell it.
It's driving me crazy.
"How was your weekend? Good?" he asks now, lazily shifting his weight to block the doorway.
I hold my shoulder-strap in a death-grip. Whatever this game is, I don't like it. "Sure," I say, hoping he'll shut up and go away.
To my disappointment, he doesn't. "Good, good," he says, nodding casually. He jerks his chin in my direction. "Studying, maybe?"
Austin snorts quietly. My eyes cut to him, and I glare, even as blood rushes to my face. Oh, ha-ha, Bella Swan spent her weekend studying. Hilarious.
Mike's smile grows with sick delight as he watches me. "Oh my god, are you blushing?" he asks, horrifyingly. He leans ever so slightly closer, as if studying my face, and I blush harder, both mortified and angry.
He's pointing it out to embarrass me, and he knows it's working. He shakes his head with a laugh, clearly beyond pleased with himself. "Wow. That is priceless."
With that, he moves out of my way, bounding down the steps without another glance in my direction.
Pretending like nothing happened, I hide my blushing face as I make my way into the school.
Seriously: driving me crazy.
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I stare down at my lunch tray. I don't understand how the school cafeteria can make pizza look gross. My slice is all creased and folded over, creating a small dint for the grease to pool in. I press a few napkins into it, trying to absorb as much of the oil as possible.
"Yuck," I whisper as I drop the soaked napkins on my tray.
I take a sip of my water, looking out over the room. Like always, I sit at my own table, tucked away in the corner. I can spend my lunch hour eating and reading in peace, occasionally taking part in some casual observations of the herd. They're all rather subdued today. Maybe because it's Monday.
With a deep breath, I look back down at my pizza. I'm starving, so this should be easy. It just looks so gross.
The doors open while I take a bite, and the cheerleaders and the basketball team pile in. Always the last to arrive, for some reason.
I immediately find Edward, trailing at the end, but my heart only has time to leap for half a second; it plunges into my stomach when I see Lauren walking beside him, talking animatedly.
Her smile is big, and pretty. Her hair is shiny, all straight and rippling as she moves. Edward is paying attention to whatever she's saying. They're walking very close to each other.
I feel sick. I put my pizza down again. It tastes like cardboard in my mouth, and I swallow it with effort.
I really don't like seeing Lauren talking to him. She usually gives off an air of coldness, but that's mysteriously missing right now. She touches his arm for a second, laughing with a beautiful smile.
Ugh.
Edward grins, replying to whatever she said. He gestures for her to go first when they reach the lunch line.
I'm still staring when he turns away from the line, tray in hand. He looks over the room, searching for his friends' table. Sweeping over me, he stops for a second. He smiles, like he can't help himself, and I can't help it either. I love his smile. His smile makes me smile.
Then someone calls his name, and we both start. His head snaps around, leaving me feeling empty. Edward hesitates, his neck straining a little, almost as if he's fighting the urge to look back at me one last time. He doesn't, though, and I feel a twisting sense of both relief and hurt.
I watch as he makes his way over, walking with that ease he has, that confidence. That thing I don't have.
Like, at all.
God, I like him so much. I wish he was sitting with me, close enough that I could like, touch his hand, maybe steal a fry off his tray or something. But instead, I sit alone, with my greasy pizza and my book, while he sits down next to Lauren, who leans her boobs way too close to his arm, and shows off her pearly white teeth. I clench my jaw.
I force myself to look away. I've lost my appetite, but I know I need the food, so the pizza goes down in tasteless clumps. They sit in my stomach, even after I escape to the library ten minutes later.
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I carefully weave my way through the crowded hallway. People seem to like hanging around before the last class of the day, as if that'll magically cancel it or something. It makes it difficult for me to abide by my wish to never touch people, ever.
I walk past most of the basketball team on my way to Government. Edward's there, doing something with his phone, looking cool and basketball-y. I obviously don't notice. Or care.
"Bella!"
I freeze, only a few feet away from the classroom. For a brief second, I think it's Edward calling me, because no one else would have a reason to. But that wasn't his voice, and he'd never.
Slowly turning, I'm faced with Jasper jogging up to me. A path is cleared for him, like Moses.
I look around. People are also looking around, looking at me, looking at Jasper, who's now standing in front of me in a crowded hallway. God, this is the worst.
"Hey, Bella – sorry, I just wanted to talk to you about chess club on Friday."
"Okay?"
"I know you said the meeting's on Friday after school, but you never said where."
"Uhm, English classroom. 108."
My gaze moves helplessly to Edward. He's staring at us, brow furrowed and mouth hanging slightly open. He looks as shocked as I feel, but also a little hurt. Our eyes meet, and he fixes his expression. He turns back to the guys and cracks a grin at whatever Emmett's saying.
"Got it," Jasper says, drawing my focus back. "See you on Friday."
"Yeah. Friday."
He turns and wanders back to his group, and I'm left standing there like an idiot. Someone just talked to me. Publicly. In a crowded hallway.
I'm going to vomit.
Turning robotically, I slip into the classroom. It slowly fills up over the next few minutes, but I sit in my seat, staring out the window. I'm barely even aware of Mike, Tyler, and Austin sitting down at the back with me.
I guess Mr. Jefferson starts the lesson, because he announces he has some exercises for us to do.
"I want you to pair up, and work through this sheet. Get some discussions going, talk through your ideas and bounce them off each other. That's the important bit, all right? I want to see evidence of two opinions coming together. In other words, team-work." He interlocks his fingers in a symbolic gesture. "Okay? Every pair hands in one sheet at the end of class, signed by both of you. Got it?"
People nod dispassionately. Yeah, idea-bouncing sounds exactly like something we'll enjoy.
"All right, pair up, and I'll hand these out."
I don't even bother looking around. I always do group-exercises alone when we're free to choose our own partner. I hate group-work. It's just a way for other people to screw me over.
I glance up when Mr. Jefferson comes round the back. He looks between me and the trio to my right.
"I said two-and-two, not three-and-one," Mr. Jefferson says, frowning first at the guys, then at me. "Mike, you and Bella can work together."
I feel the blood drain from my face, my jaw dropping open.
Oh, he has got to be shitting me.
"Mr. Jefferson, I reall—"
"What? Oh, come o—"
He puts up his hand, interrupting both mine and Mike's protests.
"Newton, move. I don't want to hear another word about it. This is a group exercise."
I feel like I'm breaking into a cold sweat. I look over at Mike. His mouth is set in a dissatisfied grimace as he looks back.
Mr. Jefferson puts a sheet down on my table, his eyes turning steely as neither one of us moves.
"Now, Mike," he says, and his voice holds no room for argument. Great, decide to gain some authority just in time to ruin my life. Thanks a lot.
With jerky movements, Mike pushes away from his desk and stomps over to me. I feel my back straighten, every muscle tensed as I lean away from him.
"Fine," Mike spits out as he almost throws himself into the chair next to me. He doesn't notice the disapproving glare Mr. Jefferson gives him; he just pulls the sheet closer so he can read it. Our teacher stands there for another moment before moving away, throwing me to the wolves.
The skin of my neck seems to be crawling, prickling uncomfortably. I realize I very much dislike Mike.
He looks up, eyes hard and mouth in a tight line. He stares at me, not saying a word.
I shouldn't look away. I shouldn't seem weak. But his stare is too cold, and I can't hold it.
"Can I see that?" I mumble at the desk, pointing toward the sheet.
He sneers. "Why? So you can mess it up?"
"No, I—"
"I'll do it, all right?" He looks me up and down. "Just sit there and shut up."
My mouth drops open. Seconds pass like bullets, each one slamming past me too fast. I watch as he picks up his pen and starts writing out answers. I can't even see the questions, because he lays his arm down on the desk, shielding the paper.
Say something. Say something. Say someth—
Too many seconds pass. I look like an idiot. I sit there, mute, choking on my cowardice. Just like he told me to.
When he's finished, he lays the paper face down on the desk and turns to Austin and Tyler. They continue talking until Mr. Jefferson goes around the room, collecting papers.
He picks ours – Mike's – up, but stops after throwing it a quick glances. Shifting his eyes between us, his mouth forms a straight, disapproving line.
Mike doesn't seem to notice. He gets back into own seat without looking at me.
Mr. Jefferson talks us through the assignment, and I pretend I know what he's talking about. He's just finished detailing next week's homework when the bell rings.
"Right, that's it for today," he says, as the class erupts in sudden activity. He raises his voice. "I need to talk to Bella and Mike, so if you two could just hang back."
My stomach drops well below my feet.
"What?" Mike mutters. "That's such bullshit."
Everyone makes it a point to look at us before they leave the classroom. Soon it's empty, except for the three of us and a giant block of tension. Mr. Jefferson waves us up to his desk.
"Can I ask what part of 'group exercise' you two didn't get?" he says, holding up Mike's answers. "I wanted to see team-work. I thought I made that very clear."
My face heats. Mike shifts nonchalantly on his feet, shrugging.
Mr. Jefferson's eyes are unamused as he studies us. "This was only signed by you, Mike. Did you write all of this?"
I stare blankly at a pencil lying next to his elbow on the desk. He's not going to blame me for this, is he?
"Yeah, but I just wrote down our answers," he says, and the lie comes out so smooth even I almost believe him. "I guess she just forgot to sign it at the end."
Mr. Jefferson looks at me. Maybe it wasn't so smooth, because he doesn't look convinced. "Bella? Is that what happened?"
I should lie. Just lie. Say yes. Lie so Mike won't have more ammunition. He has a short temper and reacts to embarrassment by lashing out. Just lie.
But something in me refuses. Stubborn pride, perhaps. The moment grows longer, the silence stretching, and I've hesitated too long, again.
I shake my head. Mr. Jefferson's face relaxes, but remains disapproving. "So you didn't contribute anything to this?"
Mike's glare burns against the side of my head, but I can't be quiet now - I don't want Mr. Jefferson to think it was by choice.
"No. He… He wouldn't let me see it," I say, pointedly pretending Mike isn't there at all.
Mr. Jefferson nods, as if that's what he suspected all along. Relief blossoms through me. "Okay. Thanks Bella, you can go."
I turn and almost stumble into a desk in my hurry to leave. As I make my way to the door, I hear Mr. Jefferson's chair scrape back.
"I thought being a team player was a skill valued pretty highly by Coach," he says dryly. "I wonder what he'd say if I told him about—"
I shut the door on the rest of his words. The hallway's pretty crowded, full of people eager to get home. I weave my way through them, aiming for my locker.
I'm almost there when something grabs my elbow and pulls me around. I gasp, my heart stopping and restarting so fast it almost makes me dizzy. Mike's face is hard, and he's unnecessarily close. He lets go immediately, as if I've burned him.
"Thanks a lot," he says, sneering. I've never seen him so angry. "Next time I tell you to shut up, fucking do it."
I stare up at him. I can't breathe.
"Bitch," he mutters, turning on his heel to leave.
A freshman close by looks at me with wide eyes, turning to watch Mike's path through the crowd. The air stutters from my lungs.
I think I might be more than a tiny blip on his radar now.
I continue to my locker, hands only shaking a little bit.
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Zipping up my coat, I make my way out of the building. I want to get in my truck, go home, and crawl into bed forever.
When I get to the edge of the parking lot, I slow down and dig my keys out of my bag.
Something crashes into my shoulder, and I fall forward with a gasp. Pain shoots through my knees as they hit the pavement, and my keys go flying. My palms scrape against the ground, and I can feel the shock reverberating through my bones.
Looking up, I see Mike, sauntering away with his cronies. Did he seriously just do that?
Against my will, my eyes sting. I blink rapidly, pushing myself back up. My shoulder throbs dully. In front of me, Rosalie leans against Emmett's car. She looks me up and down, and then glances at Mike. Her expression doesn't change.
Whole face burning, I scoop up my keys and hurry over to my truck. Jesus, almost the whole school is out here now. Everyone saw me fall.
Get knocked over. Whatever.
My hands are trembling. I can feel them stinging, the heels of my palms raw. I brush away tiny pieces of gravel embedded in my skin. Distantly, I think maybe I should wait a few minutes before I drive, but I'm already backing out of my spot. Autopilot takes me home without mishaps.
I head directly up to my room after saying a quick hello to Mom.
Definitely not just a blip.
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After dinner, I take a shower. It helps, but only a little bit. I stand under the stream longer than necessary, trying not to think of the fresh bruises on my knees, the thin scabs on my hands.
When I finally get out, the mirror is fogged over. Not that it matters. I don't need to see my own face to know that I look miserable. The cheery, bright green of my towel feels like a joke.
I shuffle back into my room, wondering if I should go to bed and let sleep wash away how dumb this day has been. I glance at the clock and notice that it's only half past eight.
God, I'm such a loser.
I check my phone. I have new messages from Edward.
Mom made snickerdoodles. Thought I'd let you know I like yours better.
Have you started the reading for English? I forgot which pages we had.
Alice just asked if I knew they're making an Avengers movie. I give up.
Hello? Bella? You okay?
I type back. Yeah, sorry. Left my phone upstairs. We have to read ch. 3-6.
Oookay. No other comments? Nothing about cookies, or how dumb my sister is?
I take a deep breath, and hold it. I don't know what to tell him.
He texts me again before I can figure anything out.
You okay?
Pressing my lips together, I type, No.
Why? What's wrong?
Bad day. It's nothing, I'm just tired.
Want to talk about it?
No. Thanks, but I'll be fine.
You sure?
Positive.
Okay. A few seconds later, Hey, wanna take a walk?
A walk? I glance at the window. It's pitch black outside. And since when does he take walks?
I have a sneaking suspicion he's trying to trick me into talking about it.
Little late for a walk, don't you think?
So?
"Good point," I mumble.
I wonder if Mom and Dad would mind. All Mom's talked about lately is how much she likes Edward, and how excited she is that we're friends. I don't think she'd object.
And how do you say no to a walk with Edward Cullen, anyway?
Yeah, okay.
Meet outside your house in 15?
Okay.
High school sucks. But you guys definitely don't. I'll keep saying this forever, but thank you so, so much for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.