Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended

Chapter 9

10 October 2011

I hesitate in the hallway. The lights and sounds from the TV bounce off the living-room walls. Mom comments on the show they're watching; Dad grunts in agreement. I stand there, equal distance from the stairs behind me, the front door to my left, and the doorway to my right.

What do I say to them? Do I just ask them if it's all right for me to take a walk with a boy? We have no precedent for this kind of behavior from me. I don't think they even know how to give permission for something like this. I certainly don't know how to ask for it. What if they say no?

But maybe they'll be so happy I'm leaving the house for once, I could tell them I'm going to go hang out in a crack-den and they'd celebrate.

Well, maybe Dad wouldn't. Being a cop and everything. If Forks had a crack-den, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't want me to go.

I chew on my thumbnail. Why am I so nervous? These are my parents. They're not going to judge me. They're not going to think I'm stupid for taking a walk with a boy.

I look at the clock on the wall. Time's up. Edward should be outside right now, waiting for me.

"Just do it," I mouth to myself, gesturing sternly with my hands.

They sit on the couch, Mom's feet tucked under Dad's legs because of her chronically cold toes. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Maybe I should've planned this better.

Mom raises an eyebrow as I awkwardly shift my weight.

"Something wrong, honey?" she asks, muting the TV.

I shake my head. "No, nothing's wrong. I just… I, uh… I'm going to take a walk."

Silence falls in the room. They stare at me with their mouths open.

"A walk?" Dad says. He exchanges a glance with Mom. "At this time of night?"

I clear my throat, shifting my weight again. "I'm meeting Edward."

Mom's lips form a silent 'Oh.' Dad looks back and forth between us, brow furrowed.

"Who?" he asks, and his voice is heavy with the suspicion I didn't want. "Why?"

"No reason." I press my lips together, looking from him to Mom. "We just feel like taking a walk."

Dad doesn't look particularly happy, but he also looks like he doesn't know what to do about it. Perhaps not having a precedent is a good thing.

"Well…" Mom says. She and Dad look at each other. "Uh, have fun… I guess?"

I raise my eyebrows, hope mingling with surprise. Will it really be this easy?

"Yes, don't… Don't… uh, don't stay out too late," Dad says, even though he doesn't seem very sure about it.

"I won't."

"Okay," Mom says, watching me while I back out of the room. I wave before I disappear from sight, hurrying over to the door. I slip on my shoes, grab my coat and keys, and head outside.

I bound down the porch, and even though I knew he was going to be there, seeing Edward standing at the end of our driveway is still a shock.

I smile timidly, walking over. He looks good, his cheeks pinked with cold. He pushes his hood back as I come closer, ruffling his hair back into place. Stopping in front of him, we watch each other for a moment. His smile looks just as timid as mine feels.

"Hi," he says, and he does this weird thing where he tips up on his toes, leaning closer. My stomach flips, but then he falls back on his heels, and fumbles as he stuffs his hands into his pockets.

Was he going to hug me? Why didn't he hug me?

I should hug him.

He looks away.

No, see, now it's weird.

I need to learn how to deal with boys. And hugging, actually.

People, in general.

My gaze falls to his feet. "Are those hiking boots?"

"Yeah, I borrowed them from Dad."

"Were you planning on walking far? It's a school night."

"Well, you never know. I thought I'd be prepared for anything."

"Okay then, boyscout." I head up the street, and he falls into step beside me. "So what's up with the walk?"

"I don't know, I thought it'd be nice."

"Just seemed a little out of the blue, is all."

"Why, do you think I have ulterior motives or something?" He smirks at me. I try not to notice.

"I don't know, maybe."

"Well, I might have one or two, but mostly I thought it'd be nice."

"One or two?"

"Yeah, but we'll get to that later."

"Okay?"

He smiles, and we continue walking in silence. We reach the end of the street and turn right, moving away from our neighborhood.

"Tell me what happened with Mike."

The words come out of nowhere and I almost stumble to a stop. How did he hear about that?

He looks at me, straight-faced and serious. "I saw you this morning, when he blocked the door. What did he say to you?"

I'm such an idiot. Of course he saw that, he was standing in the parking lot.

Instinctively, I shake my head as embarrassment crawls over my skin. "Nothing."

"Bella."

"What?"

He tugs on my arm until we come to a stop, just on the edge of the light from a street lamp. It casts his face in shadows, making his eyes darker than normal. His brow has a determined set to it, almost angry as he fixes me with a stare.

"Can we not do this? Can we not pretend like I'm not incredibly familiar with how much of a douchebag Mike Newton is? I've known him since I was five."

I bite the inside of my lip, looking away from him. Dammit. "He wasn't… It wasn't that bad."

His fingers tighten slightly on my arm before he lets go. "What did he say?"

"Just— I don't know, he implied I'm a massive nerd who studies all the time. Like I said, nothing."

"Why?"

My gaze finds its way back to his, and I stare at him, incredulously. "Why? Why do you think? Because I am a massive nerd who studies all the time."

He rolls his eyes, and when I tell him not to roll his eyes at me, he does it again.

"Stop it."

"I mean," he says, ignoring me, "why is he suddenly saying that? Did something happen?"

"Listen, I'm not an expert on the inner workings of Mike Newton's mind, all right? How the hell would I know?"

"'Inner workings' is a bit generous," he argues.

"Well, whatever," I say, throwing my hands up. "I don't know why, he just did. Maybe it was 'Pick on a Nerd Day' or something."

"Would you stop saying that? You're not a nerd." That determined-angry brow thing comes back.

"What? I like being a nerd. And it's not like you're one to talk, Mr. Compulsive Comic Book Collector." I finish off this amazing comeback by crossing my arms.

"Okay, that's not— Don't change the subject," he mutters. "That's not why I wanted to talk to you."

I cross my arms harder. "Right, you just want to talk about Mike Newton, of all people. When you said you had an ulterior motive for taking a walk, I didn't actually believe you, you know."

"Well, now you know better for next time," he says, matter-of-fact. "And of all people, Newton's the only one bothering you."

"He's not bother—"

"Yes, he is."

I glare at him. He's right, of course, but I don't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. "He's an idiot. So he called me a nerd, who cares?"

"I care," Edward says, jabbing his finger at himself. The angry-determined percentage tips a little in angry's favour. "After two years of asking me to pretend like we're not friends, you seriously expect me to believe it didn't bother you that Mike talked to you in front of the whole school? That you're fine?" His glare has far more fire behind it than mine. "Or are you saying it's okay for other people to talk to you, but not me?"

"That's not fair," I bite out, even as my crossed arms become less defensive and more self-comforting. "You know that's not true."

A muscle jumps in his jaw, and he takes a deep breath in through his nose. "Okay, fine. But Mike Newton talked to you, in public. Jasper freaking talked to you in public," he adds, looking annoyed. "You looked like you were about to faint both times, and now you're going to stand here and tell me it was nothing? Seriously? How is that fair?"

We match each other, glare for glare, and I can feel blood flushing my cheeks, either in annoyance or embarrassment, I can't tell. His eyes flicker over my face, and the stubborn set of his features gives way slightly, like I've answered his question without saying anything. He still looks annoyed, though.

"You know you don't have to play it off with me, right? This is what friends are for," he says, gesturing with his finger between us. "You tell each other about shitty things that happen."

"Oh my god," I mutter, turning away from him. Groaning, I walk a tight circle, trying to expel this nervous frustration skittering down my spine, before I face him again. Planting my feet, I exhale, hard. "Fine. Fine. Yes, it bothered me. Mike sucks, and I hate him. He's a stupid moron, and I hate that he talked to me in public, and I don't know why he's doing it, but it sucks, all right?" I throw my hands out. "There. Happy?"

"No," he mutters. "Obviously not happy. And what about Government class?"

My mouth falls open. "Wha— How did you hear about that?"

"Austin and Tyler told us."

"Us?"

"The guys. We were heading off to practice," he says, watching me as I run a hand through my hair, clenching my fist tightly. Goddammit.

Shoulders sagging in defeat, I tell him what happened, how Mr. Jefferson made us work together, only for Mike to force me aside.

"And then Mr. Jefferson wanted to talk to us after class, and once he found out what happened, he asked me to leave so he could talk to Mike alone. I don't know what he said."

I shove my hands into my pockets and shrug, raising both eyebrows at Edward. "So that was my shitty day. Anything else you want to know?"

He looks mollified but still worried. "Is there anything else?"

A painful lump catches in my throat. "No."

He nods his head slowly, glancing down at his feet and then up the road. The street is silent except for the faint rustle of wind through the trees. His eyes eventually track back to find mine. He lets out a slow sigh, and I can almost see the tension draining out of him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get angry, I just…"

The skittering frustration still lurking at the back of my skull softens at his tone. I swallow against the lump, forcing it down. "I know," I say, quietly.

He nods, the corner of his mouth turning up for a second. "You know. I guess I was just… frustrated." He glances at me, apologetic.

"I get it," I say. And I do. Better than I thought I could. "And… I'm sorry, too. I know I wasn't being fair. You were right." I have to look away from his face - he's watching me too intensely. "I just didn't… I guess I didn't want you to pity me. Or something. So it was easier to downplay it."

"I get that," he says, brows drawing together thoughtfully. "I don't pity you, for the record. I mostly just want to punch Mike in the face."

I huff out a laugh, glancing at him sideways. "As much as I appreciate the sentiment, please don't."

He waves my words away, and we stand in silence for a moment.

Feeling the need to lighten the mood, I say, "Did you really ask me to go for a walk so you could trick me into telling you about Mike?"

He laughs in surprise. "Uh, yeah, a little bit. Sorry."

I punch his arm lightly. "You're too sneaky for your own good."

"Well, it worked, so I don't care," he grins. "But I was actually being honest before - I mostly just thought it'd be nice."

I shrug, making a vague noise of agreement.

"What, you don't think this is nice?" he asks, a teasing glint shaping his eyes and his grin. "Your worst nightmare came to life when not one, but two people talked to you in public, and now we're standing out here in the dark and the cold rehashing the whole thing. I think this is super nice."

"Shut up," I laugh, punching his arm again.

His grin slowly mellows into a smaller, contemplative smile as the silence stretches between us again. He rocks up on his heels, and I raise an eyebrow, waiting to see where his train of thought has taken him.

"What'd he say to you, anyway?" he asks eventually. "Jasper, I mean."

"Asked about the chess club."

"Why?"

"Because he joined."

He blinks at me. "He joined the chess club?"

"Yeah. We talked about it when we watched the movie at your place. He brought it up while you and Alice were in the kitchen. I thought he told you."

His expression barely changes, but somehow he immediately looks miffed.

"No, he hasn't said anything. So are you two like… friends, now?"

"I wouldn't go that far," I say, watching him curiously.

He shifts his shoulders in a gesture bordering on uncomfortable. "Right. I just… I don't know. It was weird."

"What was?"

"Him talking to you."

I smile. "Yeah. I didn't know how to react."

"But you were fine."

"I didn't feel fine. Did I look fine?"

"Better than I would've thought, anyway. Aside from the near-fainting thing."

"Right. Well, I wasn't."

I hesitate, then. He won't look directly at me, taking an unusual interest in the small pieces of gravel under his shoe.

"Were you… fine?" I venture. "With him talking to me?"

He doesn't say anything, but the uncertain set of his mouth and another shrug does the talking for him.

"You know I didn't want him to, right? I don't want you to think you're the only one who can't talk to me, or whatever."

He scratches his eyebrow. "No, I know. I was— I wouldn't say annoyed, but… Something. You know."

I reach out and squeeze his wrist. He looks down at our hands. "I'm sorry."

"Wasn't your fault," he murmurs. "And it wasn't like I was annoyed at you, anyway. Just the situation, I guess."

"Yeah."

We stand in silence for a moment. I slowly let go of his wrist and tuck my hands into the pockets of my coat. His eyes follow the movement.

He takes a deep breath. "So. Chess club buddies. Newton being a dick. You've had an exciting day."

"Guess so."

He hums, looking down the street to his right, and then up to his left. A gust of wind blows hair across my eyes, and I reach up to tuck it back behind my ear. I jump slightly when Edward grabs hold of my arm, pulling my hand closer. He angles it under the light, frowning, and my stomach sinks.

"What happened?" He lightly runs his thumb over the scratches. The skin's still sensitive enough that a light burn ripples through my hand. I fight the urge to pull it back into my pocket.

He doesn't know.

I think about being honest. I think about saying the words, 'Newton pushed me.' But I don't want to be the victim again tonight. I want to forget about the whole thing, just for now. Because Edward's holding my hand, and it feels so nice. It feels so good. And after today, this is exactly what I want. I want to be selfish and have my crush hold my hand. I want to leave it at that. Just for now.

Even if it makes me a coward.

"I fell," I say. "In the parking lot. It was really embarrassing."

"What, after school?" His gaze jumps back and forth between my eyes.

"Yeah. Everyone saw."

He winces. "Ouch. I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I'm surprised you didn't see it," I say, watching him.

"I was probably already in practice," he says.

He ghosts his thumb over it again, lighter this time, and while it still burns, it's not as much. It almost feels kind of nice. My neck heats up.

I gently take my hand back. That skittering, nervous feeling comes back, but without the frustration this time. I can't stand still.

Without looking at him, I continue walking down the street. He catches up after a few steps, and we walk in silence for a minute.

We eventually get to the small park at the end of our neighborhood. Set back slightly from the road, where the light from the street lamps can't quite reach, the old playground sits nestled in the corner, the edge of the woods curving around it.

"I haven't been there in years," I say, nodding at it.

Edward laughs. "Yeah, me neither."

We look at each other; he raises his eyebrows, and I smile in response. His answering grin is infectious.

"Come on," he says, before jogging across the street, me following in his wake.

If you had an inkling this story was all about baby steps, go ahead and give yourself a pat on the back.

Thank you so much for reading. Knowing you guys are enjoying this story means the world to me.

And Meg, Kim: so do you.