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Chapter 10
10 October 2011
The park is dark, and silent but for the whisper of wind through the trees. I follow Edward across the grass and into the sand around the playground; it shifts and slips under my feet and finds its way into my shoes, so cold it almost feels damp.
Ahead of me, Edward walks up to the monkey bars; bending to walk under the tallest one, he says, "I can't believe it still looks the same. They haven't changed anything around here."
It's true, they haven't. I glance around, taking it all in. It could do with a new lick of paint.
Edward hoists himself up on the bar, a smooth, even motion that I envy and admire. Balancing his hips against it, arms strained and straight, he takes a moment to steady himself, and then wags his eyebrows in my direction. "Eh? Go on, applaud me. I can see you're impressed."
I laugh, walking past him. "Good job."
"Thanks."
The jungle gym stands behind him, and it looks so much smaller than I remember. It used to be this huge, terrifying thing. The rope-bridge that looked miles and miles long when I was young is actually only like six feet, and not even that high above the ground.
I walk closer, running my fingers over the old wood of the pillars. The dark-blue paint is faded in places, and people have carved hearts and block-letters here and there.
Why was I so scared of this thing? It's not scary at all. I feel a pang of regret for my childhood-self. I never got to have fun on it. Not the way I was supposed to.
I feel Edward come up behind me. He reaches out and touches the rope fondly. "This was my favorite part," he says, smiling to himself.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Digging through his memories, he seems to come up with a particularly treasured one, as his face transforms with happy nostalgia. "I used to pretend I was a superhero, climbing over a pit of lava to rescue a princess locked in the tower."
"Aren't princes supposed to do that?"
Edward shrugs, grinning down at me. "Yeah, but superheroes are cooler."
The idea of Edward rescuing imaginary princesses is adorable. I smile, looking up at the ropes. "I remember how you used to run around on this thing."
He raises his eyebrows, and I shrug. "I liked watching you run around. You weren't scared of anything."
He laughs. "I was actually terrified of heights. I just did it because everyone else did." He looks at me and nods to himself. "You were cooler."
"How was I even remotely cool?"
"Because you used to just sit on the swings and read a comic book, even if all the other kids were running around. You did your own thing. And you were like, six. That is incredibly cool."
I let out a soft laugh. "Mom hated that. She always wanted me to play with you guys. She and Esme talked sometimes, you remember?"
He grins. "And she'd try to make you play tag with Alice or something, but you'd just keep reading."
"I almost feel bad for her. I wasn't an easy kid."
"Better than most, I'd think," he says, and his smile turns soft, and his eyes warm, and he's looking at me in a way I can't deal with. The thought that I would do anything to make him look at me this way forever slides sideways into my mind, finding its home as easily as that.
Maybe I stare at him for too long, because his soft smile becomes a lopsided one, and he looks down at the ground. Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he nods to himself.
"You know, sometimes I'd pretend you were the princess locked in the tower."
"Shut up, you did not."
"I did, I swear. When I rescued you, you'd be so grateful you'd share your comic books with me."
Fighting a smile, I punch his arm. I keep wanting to touch him in small ways like this. "You could've just asked. I wouldn't have said no."
"You were too cool. I didn't have the guts." He's smiling without teasing me when he says this, and more thoughts of his smile and his lips and forever slide into my brain from every direction, somehow tilting my perceptions so I'm suddenly not at all sure if they haven't been there all along.
I clear my throat and point behind him at the metal handlebars suspended between the two towers. Kids used to crawl across the top, or swing from bar to bar by their hands.
"Remember that thing?"
"Yeah. I remember when Emmett broke his arm falling off," Edward laughs, walking to stand below it. He reaches up and wraps his fingers around the rungs. "God, his mom was so angry. She wouldn't let him play on here for like a year after."
"What happened?"
"We were trying to see who could hang upside down the longest." He drops his arms and grins, a dangerous one that reminds me of the kind of adventures I only ever read about. "Think I could still do it?"
"Do what?"
He doesn't answer, and instead walks around me, close enough that his arm brushes mine as he passes. Grabbing the handlebars, he climbs into the tower, sandy shoes slipping on the steps.
"What are you doing?" I laugh, as I watch him try to fit his 18-year-old body into a space he outgrew ten years ago.
With a surprising amount of grace, he gets to his feet. The railing barely reaches him mid-thigh.
"You're going to fall down," I observe, crossing my arms loosely.
"And do what? Land softly in the sand three feet down? I'll be fine."
"It's actually more like five feet."
"Eh."
He climbs onto the bars, pulling himself easily into the middle. He slowly arranges himself into a seated position and wiggles his ass backwards until he's hanging upside down by his knees in front of me.
His jacket slips a little down his body, and I can see his underwear and an inch of skin. My eyes snag, and I pull them away with some effort.
"Hey, look," he says, releasing his grip and stretching his arms out at his sides. "No hands, no hands."
"You're such an idiot," I laugh. I step closer, watching in amusement as he slowly turns red.
I sink down onto my knees in front of him. He grins, and he looks so ridiculous. His hair flops away from his head, sticking out more than usual. I want to run my fingers through it so much, I can't help myself. Without thinking too much about it, I raise my hand.
It's exactly as soft as it looks. Edward does nothing but smile, watching me. I give a few of the strands a gentle tug before sitting back, fist clenched as I try to hold on to the feeling.
"You know, you kinda look like Spiderman."
His loud laugh makes me smile.
"Really?"
"Yeah," I say, picturing him in a Spiderman outfit. Unsurprisingly, I find the idea very appealing. "You know, in that scene from the first one, in the rain."
"Yeah. So in this scenario, does that make you MJ?" he chuckles.
Yes, please.
I shrug, acting nonchalant. Probably not very successfully. "I don't know, does it?"
His face slowly pulls down in confusion.
"Like, because you're Spiderman, it's up to you who MJ is," I clarify.
He frowns more.
"No, but like, in the movie, MJ is special to Peter because he likes her, right? That scene in the rain wouldn't be the same if he was just rescuing some random stranger. That scene is what it is because of Peter's feelings for MJ, you know? So whether or not me sitting in front of you right now makes me MJ is up to you. Up t-to Spiderman. Not, uh, you-you. That would be— Uhm. Spiderman-you. You when you're Spiderman. Uhm."
He stares at me.
I need to stop talking about Spiderman's feelings. Immediately.
Pushing up from the ground, I brush the sand from my knees. He can't tell I'm blushing if I move farther away. That's just science.
"Can you get down now? You're making me nervous. I didn't bring my phone so I can't call an ambulance if you fall down and break something."
"I won't fall down. But yeah, I need to stop doing this. My head's about to explode."
He grabs hold of the bars again, and somehow manages to pull himself back up.
I gape at him. "How the hell did you do that?"
He looks down at me, swinging one leg over the side so he's straddling it. "What?"
"Sit up like that."
"I don't know, I just did."
"Are you actually Spiderman?"
"I'm athletic."
"Bullshit."
He grins.
I cross my arms. I uncross my arms. He's just sitting there, staring down at me as I stare up at him.
I don't think he's coming down.
It looks… fun.
I glance around, even though I know we're alone. Edward swings his legs, and when I look back up at him, he raises his eyebrows. Well? You coming, or what?, they say.
I am, my own reply, after only a beat of hesitation, and his grin becomes even more dangerous than before.
Walking over to the tower, I grip the handles, feeling the old paint cracking under my fingers, and climb up. I fit much better in here than Edward did, but I'm much less graceful. I'm literally only four feet off the ground, but it feels like a hundred, and I'm as cautious as if it were.
Edward's watching me, legs still swinging casually. "Any time this decade, Swan."
"Shut up."
Slowly rising to my feet, I stare out across the bars in front of me. I'm going to fall off and die.
Copying how Edward did it, I lift my knees onto the first rung, hands clenching around the bars so hard it hurts. I'm slow and wobbly, but eventually I'm sitting in front of him, legs on either side of the bars. He slow-claps.
"Stop it," I say between clenched teeth.
"Why didn't I film that? That was great."
"Are you sure you want to keep going down this road, considering your vulnerable position?"
"What vulnerable position?"
I wave my hand at his groin. He looks down, and then immediately cups himself.
"Please don't do that," he says, his expression pained. "I've been told I'll need them one day."
"So don't make fun of me," I mutter, eyes on anything but his hands.
"Stop threatening my private parts."
"Stop… being dumb."
I tip my head up as he laughs. The night is clear, and I can see the stars. My breath rises in front of me, faintly white.
"Hey. Look at that," I say, pointing skyward.
After a moment, he replies, "Huh."
Silently, we watch the stars. When my neck starts hurting, I carefully lean back, stomach clenching nervously the whole time. Flat on my back, I hold on tightly to the bars at my sides.
Edward's legs bang into mine when he does the same. He playfully kicks at my shoes, making me let out a shrill squawk.
"Oh my god, don't do that!" I hold on tighter. He laughs, kicking me again. "Asshole."
"It's not like you're going to fall down."
"You don't know that."
"Pretty sure I do, though."
"You're going to be really embarrassed later when I do it. Just you wait. I'll break my leg."
He laughs again, and I can feel it through the metal under my back.
"Okay, if you fall down, I promise to acknowledge that you were right before I do anything else."
"Thank you."
We go back to watching the stars. Minutes pass, and I pick out all the constellations I can see, a leftover from my brief interest in astronomy when I was ten. I trace the stars of the Big Dipper again and again with my eyes, imagining lines to connect them.
Every once in awhile I feel Edward's foot brushing past mine when he swings his leg. It makes me want to be closer. I bunch the hood of my coat up under my head, cushioning it from the rung I'm resting on. Nothing about this is physically comfortable, but I could stay here forever.
"Bella?"
"Mm?"
"I need to tell you something."
I feel like these are words that should make me nervous, but it's too peaceful out here for that. The stars burn in the sky above me, and the cold bites at my cheeks. "What?"
He draws a deep breath, pausing. I wait, but nothing further comes. Did he change his mind?
When I raise my head to ask, he haltingly speaks.
"I— It might… Telling you might ruin everything. But I think you already know, because I'm an idiot, so I'm going to tell you. Even if it ruins everything."
"Ruins what?"
I don't think he heard me. He continues to stare at the sky, nervously picking at his thumb. "You know, earlier? What you said about Spiderman?"
"Yeah?"
"If I was Spiderman…" He clears his throat. "I— Yes."
I blink. "Yes?"
"Yes. That would make you MJ."
The wind whispers past, ruffling my hair. It's the only part of me that moves.
"What?"
Quickly, he says, "I needed to tell you. I'm tired of not telling you."
I sit up, wobbling slightly as I do. "I'm MJ?"
Swallowing, he nods.
My stomach falls out of me, swooping, swooping, filled with the stars above, and I can't breathe, I can't do anything, I can't, I can't—
My hands tremble, fingers numb.
"Edward," I say, voice thin. "Look at me."
He doesn't. He sits up, but he won't look at me. I reach out and touch the back of his hand. His skin is cold.
"Why are you telling me this now?" My voice is shaky, and I sound so nervous. I don't sound like myself, and I'm not entirely sure I am myself. I'm on the edge of my body, half-in, half-out, like I'm standing in the doorway, watching words come out of my mouth without any control over them.
He smiles down at the ground. "Because it's true." Like it's that simple. Maybe it is, to him. "And I know this changes things, and that it might… " He trails off, waving his hand between us, "ruin stuff. Anyway. I needed to tell you. And now I've told you."
I exhale, stomach swooping, swooping, and finally he looks at me, searching my face and my eyes.
The world absolutely stops, time looping and looping and looping, just to keep me here a moment longer, just another moment to savour this, to feel this.
Just one more moment.
"I like you," he says, slowly, carefully, and the stars in my stomach rise right out of me, out the top of my head, and it feels so light, so endless. Oh god, I'm getting dizzy.
Holy shit.
When I continue staring at him in stunned silence, he licks his lips and lowers his gaze. "I'm not expecting anything. It's okay if you don't… you know. I really just needed to say it."
My heart is about to crack one of my ribs. Stomach swooping, swooping, I ask with a voice barely more substantial than air, "You like me?"
He just nods, mouth pressed lightly together as he glances off to the side.
I am incredibly, wholly and completely unprepared for this.
A sound escapes me, a breath, a moan, a gasp in reverse - I don't even know. It's ridiculous, but it's the only thing I can do to express how my head is full of stars and how my stomach won't stop swooping, for god's sake, and I'm still dizzy and my hands tremble, fingers numb but somehow tingling, somehow dousing my veins with fizzing, bubbling, pure and brilliant something.
Time speeds up, taking back the moments it let me have before, and then some.
And it's only then that I notice how his shoulders have started to hunch, and my brain screeches to a stop. His mouth becomes a thinner line, his brows furrow, and he closes his eyes for a second, clearly chastising himself.
I realize I've been staring at him in silence for a good few seconds, probably looking less filled with stars and a lot more horrified.
Stuttering out a few sounds, I grab his wrist, almost in panic. He doesn't even have time to look at me before I watch myself from the doorway as I say, "I like you, too."
I want to throw myself off these damn bars and bury myself in this playground for the rest of eternity.
His lips part, and it's his turn to stare at me in stunned silence. Seconds pass, more and more, and still he doesn't speak. Oh god, this is awful.
"Say something," I plead, releasing his wrist. He doesn't react, and now my stomach is swooping for a completely different reason. I might throw up. "You really need to say something. Right now. Edward, I'm freaking out, can you please jus—"
He puts his other hand over my mouth, instead. I hold my breath, eyes widening.
"You like me, too?"
Time has no meaning any more. Whatever it's doing, I can't keep up.
I nod my head, once.
Slowly, and very precisely, he breaks out in the widest, happiest grin I have ever seen on his face.
I flush all over, heat flooding up to my face. His hand is still on my mouth.
He just told me he likes me. It's not just me. I'm not alone with my crush.
It's not just me.
He likes me. We like each other. Each. Other.
Ohgodohgodohgod—
"You just scared the crap out of me," he says, and then he's laughing. He puts a hand to his chest, over his heart. "Fuck. For the record, just staring at someone after they confess their feelings for you isn't nice. Zero out of ten doctors recommend it."
A nervous, giggling sound comes out of me, muffled by his hand. We're confessing feelings. Holy shit. Feelings. There are feelings involved in this situation. Edward has feelings he needed to confess.
Blushing harder, I pull my head back so his hand falls away from my face. Very shakily, I say, "Can we get down from here? I'm super light-headed."
"Oh, shit, sure," he says, instantly wide-eyed and worried instead of smiling and heart-stoppingly perfect. Scooting back, he swings his right leg over the bars and just jumps down, like it's nothing. Like he's a mountain goat.
Since my heart's still beating like a marching-drum and my hands are kind of trembly, I'm a bit more cautious. I lean forward onto my stomach before turning, letting both legs dangle over one side. With the bars pressed into my gut and my legs hanging freely, I realize my mistake.
"Oh, no."
"What's wrong?" He sounds worried.
"This is very scary."
He busts up.
"Am I far from the ground? Edward, I'm going to die."
"You'll be fine," he chuckles. He stands next to me, bending at the waist and twisting up to look at me from below. His grin is obnoxious.
"Don't be obnoxious."
"I'm not being anything," he argues. He disappears from sight, but almost immediately I feel his shoulder against my legs. Oh, god.
"Come on, I've got you." He wraps an arm around my knees.
I debate not doing anything, because this might be more than I can handle. But hanging here really kind of hurts, so I loosen my grip, and he moves the tiniest bit back so I can feel that he's got me. Clenching my eyes shut, I slide carefully down his body. My butt slips past his shoulder, and I really hope he's not thinking about my butt being on his shoulder.
When I'm only holding on with my fingers, my entire back is against his chest. His arm is around my waist, and I can feel his breath against my ear. I wonder how plausible it would be to stay here forever.
He likes me. He's my best friend, my favorite person in the whole damn universe, and he told me he likes me.
He bends at the knees, slowly lowering me to the ground. Sand shifts under my feet, but I don't pull away, not until his arm loosens around me, and he takes a small step back with a mumbled, "There."
I turn to face him, something warm and soft trembling in my chest. I wish we weren't standing in this dark playground, where I can't see his face as clearly as I would like. I think I'm going to want to remember every last detail of this moment for the rest of my life, and seeing his face clearly would probably help.
The little light that shines shows me the smile in his eyes, the relief in the line of his shoulders. It shows me an Edward that has quite suddenly gone from best friend to… something different. Someone I've never met before, but who I can't wait to get to know.
We watch each other in silence. It's only comfortable at first, but the longer we watch, the better it gets. He gets a hint of a smile on his lips, and I feel my face respond in kind.
He shifts subtly closer. I've never silently looked into someone's eyes when they've stood this close. Not that I make a habit of silently staring into people's eyes or anything, but even if I did, this would be special.
"So…" he says, dipping his head in a cute little nod, as if he has loads of answers he's dying for me to ask the questions to.
I want to ask him if he actually, really, truly does like me, because it seems so impossible, but I can't bring myself to be quite so forward.
"Was this the main reason you wanted to take a walk?" I ask instead.
He laughs down his nose. "You're giving me a lot of credit if you think this is anything but me improvising. Not to ruin the moment, but I think I kind of blacked out for a second? And then I came back, and it was too late to stop talking, so I just had to like… keep going."
I don't say it, but that just makes all of it so much better.
"Still, it turned out a lot better than I thought," he continues, watching me in a way that sends my heart rushing to catch up. With what I'm not entirely sure, but I like it all the same.
"Yeah?"
He nods, a shy smile drawing my focus to his lips.
"Did you think it'd turn out horrible?"
"I've had nightmares."
"No, you haven't."
"One. I've had one nightmare, and it involved you turning me down and telling Wolverine to kill me."
Sideways thought: how long has he liked me?
"Why did I have him kill you?"
"I like to think you were being poetic. Like, you turned me down and figuratively crushed my heart, and then made someone literally do it. For good measure, or something."
"Seems excessive."
"Yeah, this was better."
"Would it really have broken your heart? If I said I didn't… If I said no, or whatever?"
"Literally? Probably not."
I shove his shoulder, but he just grabs my hand, probably not realizing how his touch fizzes up my veins, just like before.
"I would've acted like it didn't, but on the inside, I would be crying."
"How are you making me feel bad for you over something that didn't even happen?" I say, pretending I'm not about to float up into the sky.
"I'm just that good."
I roll my eyes, and he looks overly proud of himself. Testing the waters, I shift my fingers inside his hold, hooking them around his. His self-satisfied smirk melts immediately into something pleasantly surprised, and he watches me wordlessly as we both adjust to the reality of holding hands like this. Just like I wanted the other night, watching movies at his place.
I have to carefully inhale to stop myself from squealing. It's practically bubbling in my chest, this sound of pure emotion, and I'm pretty sure I'd scare him if I let it loose.
"Can I try something?"
His speaking catches me off guard, focused as I am on not scaring him with feelings. His head is tilted ever so slightly in concentration, and I nod, waiting for whatever he's planning.
But all he does is raise his hand, touching his fingertips to my neck. A stillness washes over me, anticipation and nerves rendering me solid. He hesitates before his thumb brushes lightly against my jaw, and his gaze sweeps across my face.
Holy crap.
His eyes come to a slow stop at my lips, and the curiosity there settles into some kind of decision.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
He smiles as he tells me, "Improvising."
"Are you going to kiss me?" I whisper. Are we supposed to be kissing already?
He one-shoulder-shrugs as a response, and I realize I don't care, at all. He should've kissed me hours, days, weeks ago. Months. Years.
"I think we should try it."
"Oh?"
He nods slowly, and it's making it so hard to concentrate, having him so incredibly near.
He bends closer, tilting my chin up. I can't believe this is happening. This is actually happening. Edward is going to kiss me. His hand is on my face, and his lips are going to be on my lips, and he likes me, and he's my favorite person, and I'm so lucky, that he likes me, that he wants to kiss me, that this is actually happening.
I close my eyes just before I feel his mouth fall against my own.
We both inhale, growing still. His fingers press more fully against my neck. His lips are cold and a little dry, but they're soft under mine, softer than I thought they'd be. Oh, this is good. He shifts a little, taking my bottom lip between his, but otherwise he doesn't move, and neither do I. A moment passes, and then another, and the pressure of his mouth grows stronger, his lips moving ever so slightly. My stomach doesn't even know what gravity is any more.
Kissing is my favorite, I just decided.
Kissing Edward is even more my favorite.
Holy crap, I'm kissing Edward.
I slowly pull away. His eyes stay closed, and a small concentrated wrinkle smooths out on his forehead.
"Yes, that was a very good plan," he says, voice slightly croaky.
"Yup. Very good. Works really well."
He opens his eyes, gaze immediately falling to my mouth. He grins.
"You just kissed me."
"I did."
"We kissed."
"We did," I say, and then I'm laughing. His fingers leave my neck, and he takes my left hand in between both of his, as if to warm me. I don't tell him I'm so deliriously happy in this moment that the cold doesn't phase me at all, nor do I say that even if I was freezing my ass off, I wouldn't leave this spot for a huge open fire and ten blankets.
I just hold his hand right back, and smile.
Sometimes you just need some Spiderman, man.
Thanks so much for reading.