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Chapter 12

11 October 2011

I quietly slip out the locker room door, glancing around. Class hasn't started yet; everyone is standing around in loose groups, some resting on the bleachers. Only a few people let their eyes sweep over me, barely acknowledging my presence. Thank god.

I spot Angela and head towards her, smiling when she sees me coming.

"Hey," she says quietly. "I was wondering where you were."

"Yeah, I— I lost track of time. I was reading," I murmur back, unexpectedly reluctant to lie. I kind of want to shout the truth from the rooftops — maybe then it will actually start feeling real.

Edward's horsing around with Emmett further down the court, dribbling a basketball they've liberated from the equipment shed. There's something giddy about the way he's smiling, and the idea that this might have something to do with me and what we were doing not twenty minutes ago sends me tailspinning.

"Lucky you weren't late," Angela laughs, just as Coach comes out of his office. I tear my attention away from Edward with some effort.

After taking our attendance, and leading us through the usual warm-up (two laps around the court and a few half-hearted jumping jacks), Coach gathers us round.

"Right," he says, clipboard gripped in both hands. "For the next couple of weeks, we're going to be playing badminton."

A collective groan rises from the basketball team, while I close my eyes in brief thanks. Badminton I can cope with. Of all the undignified things you can be forced to do in Gym class, badminton is the most forgiving of the bunch.

"No whining," Coach says, throwing looks at the boys. "We're playing mixed doubles, in a tournament. At the end of these two weeks, we'll have finals. The winning team doesn't have to go for a five-mile run. Outside."

We stare back at him in silence. Above us, rain hammers heavily on the roof, the sound a particularly evil omen. A promise of what awaits the losers.

My feelings of thanks are definitely a little less now.

Coach stares right back at us. When no one moves, he makes a shoo-ing gesture with his clipboard. "Come on. Mixed doubles. Pair up."

Anxious activity breaks out all around me. With the stakes so high, finding the right partner becomes vital. Angela throws me a rueful look before hurrying across to stand by Ben, who takes her hand with obvious relief.

I'm left stranded by myself as the rest of my classmates scurry. No one so much as looks at me — I'm clearly not a popular option.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Throwing my eyes around in mounting panic, they snag on Garrett, standing equally as stranded on the other side of the group. His despair at this turn of events looks just as severe as mine feels.

I don't really want to pair up with Garrett. He's nice and everything, and being on the chess club with me means I count him as a friend, but he's scrawny and uncoordinated beyond belief. I don't want to go for a five-mile run outside in the middle of October, and if I pair up with Garrett, that's exactly what's going to happen.

Our eyes meet for half a second before his snap to look at something over my shoulder. At the same moment, someone touches my elbow.

Startled, I whip around and come face to face with Edward. He's lost the giddiness from before; his expression now is uncertain, and carefully hopeful.

"You, uh… you free?" he asks.

Heart galloping, I stare at him for a few seconds. What?

"What?"

His uncertainty visibly grows. He looks back and forth between my eyes. "Uhm. To play. Do you want to?"

"No, I— Not that," I mutter; furtively looking over my shoulder at the rest of the class, I relax a bit to see them all still moving around, shouting over each other as they try to negotiate. No one's noticed us yet. I shift slightly, turning my back on them. "You're seriously asking me?"

"I am." Copying my furtive glance, he gives our classmates one of his own. Lowering his voice, he says, "Trust me, okay? I have a plan."

"A plan?"

Confidence returning now, he loosens his stance somewhat. "Yeah."

"What kind of plan?"

"Well, I only came up with it about twenty seconds ago, so the details are a little hazy," he says, grinning at my widening eyes. "But it's a good one. I'll tell you after school."

"Tell me now."

"Team up with me first," he counters immediately. "I mean, you kind of have to."

"What? Why?" I say, irrationally indignant at being told what to do even though the thing he's telling me to do is exactly what I want more than anything.

"Because there's no one else left and it would be really embarrassing if you said no."

With that, I realize the shouting has died down to a much quieter drone. Negotiations seem to have come to an end. My back straightens as I sense curious eyes turning our way, and Edward looks at them over the top of my head for a second.

He returns his attention to me. "I'm going to take your silence as a 'yes'."

I blink, fighting the urge to turn around and see if everyone's staring as much as I think they are. "Okay."

He fully relaxes now, casually crossing his arms as he smiles. "Cool."

I have no idea what just happened. What is he up to?

Our classmates aren't the only ones to raise eyebrows; when Coach goes around making notes of all the teams, he stops in front of us with visible surprise. He looks at me, then at Edward. Then slowly back at me.

Such astounding professionalism.

"Cullen and… Swan," he says, pausing slightly before jotting down our names. The rest of the class watches on, eyebrows jumping all over the place. I bristle, feeling both insulted and embarrassed, which combine to make me feel a little pissed off.

I know what they're all thinking. Either that I was everyone's last choice, and Edward ended up with me by default, or that he chose me out of pity. Neither is particularly flattering.

Edward doesn't seem to notice, or if he does, he's pretending not to care. His earlier giddiness has returned now, and when Coach sends us to pick our equipment, he spends a couple of minutes helping me find a good racket, having me test a few for weight-balance before finding the perfect one. Then he unearths a fresh pack of balls from a secret cupboard he somehow knows about, handing me the plastic tube with a wink.

Oh, wait. Not balls. Shuttlecocks.

Jesus christ.

Coach takes a few minutes to explain the proper rules for mixed doubles, and makes us practice a few serves and swings. At one point, Edward reaches over and adjusts my grip, murmuring as he tells me something about the advantages of blah blah blah and whatever — I'm really not listening, because he's standing close enough that my arm could easily brush against his chest if I just moved it the right way.

I avoid everyone's eyes. If my expression is anything like I think it might be, I don't want to know if anyone's noticed.

I take an even breath, trying to tame my pulse into something a little less likely to induce lightheadedness.

He's not acting exactly like when we're alone, but it's close enough. An outlined version of how he behaves around me when no one else can see. I realize quite suddenly this might be the source of his giddiness. He's wanted to be free around me, to not have to pretend so hard, for ages, and now he finally has a chance. Now he finally has a reason to acknowledge me in front of other people.

I risk a glance at his face. He's smiling, like he almost always does, but this one is different, somehow. Relieved. Secretive and happy. Or happily secretive.

My heart trips and stumbles, and it almost hurts, this feeling: to be so happy that someone else is happy.

Rather than start any games with so little time left, Coach has each pair practising their serves and swings against each other, and for the first time ever, Gym actually isn't that bad. It's almost fun. Edward gives me a few pointers, but by the end of class, he looks kind of impressed.

As mostly everyone drops their rackets in a pile and head for the locker rooms, Edward comes over, fingers playing with the strings of his.

"You have a really good serve, you know," he says. "We might actually win this thing."

"We better," I say, my high from his praise and possibly being the source of his happiness enough to make me reckless; I don't want to treat him like Edward Cullen: classmate. I want to treat him like Edward Cullen: friend.

I want to treat him like Edward: more.

"I'm counting on you to get me out of that run."

"You're using me? Seems mean," he says, grabbing the cart all the rackets are supposed to go in. He rolls it over, and together we start putting them away.

"Maybe," I say with a shrug. Reckless-born bravery has me continuing, in a murmur, "Somehow I don't think you mind."

He pauses, an eyebrow raised at my tone. I meet his gaze evenly, smiling ever so slightly, and he can't seem to help himself — he grins back, the tiniest bit of color tingeing his cheeks.

Dropping the last of the rackets into the cart, I say, "See you after school," and leave him standing there.

I basically float into the locker room, airborne by happiness. When I approach the row of my locker, though, a murmur of voices makes me pause. I press closer to the end of the row, staying hidden.

"… just sucks," Lauren says, shutting her locker with a bang. "I was going to ask him, but when I turn around, he's talking to her, of all people. I don't get it."

Jessica answers her. "What? Bella's… fine. I guess." Her voice is hesitant, but not in describing me as 'fine' — she sounds hesitant in finding a word to describe me at all.

My chest grows tight. I strain to hear over the showers running at the far end of the room. I don't want to listen, don't want to hear. But I need to.

"I mean, yeah, exactly. She's fine. End of, you know? I don't think I've ever seen her smile. Edward's going to be so bored."

"She's not that bad…" Jessica again, but Lauren just scoffs.

"Come on. She's boring."

My happiness sinks like a bag of bricks in the ocean, and my heart hammers in my throat. I'm boring?

Another locker shuts with a bang, and as their voices drift away towards the showers, Rosalie says with clear disinterest, "Who even cares? You're just pissed you're stuck with Garrett for two weeks. At least she's not as weird as he is."

Jessica's laugh is quickly drowned out, mixing in with the echoing sounds coming from the showers.

I lean against the wall, staring unblinkingly ahead.

So that's how everyone sees me.

Well, fuck.

I move robotically through taking a shower and getting dressed. Their words play in loops in my head, snagging every now and then on the specifics. Boring. Fine.

End of.

But in between all that, I also bring up Edward's face, to remind myself that he knows me better than Lauren and Jessica and Rosalie. He knows me, and he wants to be my friend. He wants to be my… more.

He doesn't think I'm boring.

Everyone else thinks you're boring.

If he does think I'm weird, he still likes me for it.

Everyone else just thinks you're less weird than Garrett.

He chose to partner up with me for two weeks.

And no one gets why.

The fight between these two arguments continues through Government, where we're luckily just watching some documentary. I don't pay attention.

Edward likes me. No one else does.

What the hell do I do with that?

I leave school in a bit of a daze, and when I finally get up to my room, I dump my bag on the floor and sit down on my bed. Everything is mixed up in my head, this new knowledge of how I come across to the rest of the school twisting itself into the knowledge that Edward doesn't see me that way.

I'm not an idiot. I know the perception people have of me is self-inflicted. I've chosen to not let anyone get to know the real me, so I'm in no position to complain when they make up their minds without my input.

But it still hurts.

I know I have two choices here — I can either force myself to ignore the whole thing, and continue on with my life as if this never happened. Or, I can do something about it.

Neither sound great. They both sound really hard.

I might have to flip a coin.

My phone chimes in my bag before I get a chance. I get changed and then head down the stairs and out through the back door, walking steadily towards the forest and Edward on the other side of it.

I don't know what to do.

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"Why am I giving the chocolate a bath?"

I straighten and turn to look at him. He stands by the stove, studying the recipe like it holds the instructions to defusing a bomb.

"What?"

"'Put the chocolate in a water bath.' By the way, I question having to qualify it as a water bath. I'd get it if it wasn't water. Like a mud bath. That'd need a qualifier. But if it just says 'bath', I'm going to assume I should use water."

I stare at him. He looks up from the paper, eyes widening at my expression.

"What?"

"Why would they be talking about mud baths in a brownie recipe?"

"Well, I don't know. I didn't write it."

"'Put it in a water bath' means that you melt the chocolate in a bowl over hot water," I say, choosing to ignore him. I grab everything we need from the pantry and close the door with my foot.

He looks back and forth between me and the recipe, eyebrows drawing closer and closer together.

"You seem worried."

He opens his mouth a few times before thrusting the paper at me. "I think you should do it."

"You said you wanted to help." I dump everything on the counter and lean against it. He steps closer and waves the paper at my face.

"I'll screw it up. I don't even know what a whisk attachment is."

I roll my eyes and take the recipe. "It doesn't say anything about whisk attachments; you mix this together by hand."

He pokes the bag of flour instead of responding.

"Just do what I tell you, and it'll be fine. You need to learn how to cook, anyway. How are you going to feed yourself when you've moved out of here?"

"I can feed myself," he says defensively. "It's really easy. I pick up my phone and go 'Yeah, hi, I'd like to order a large pepperoni with extra cheese. Thanks.'" He spreads his arms out, triumphant. "See?"

"You can't live on pizza all the time. It's not healthy."

"Oh, and teaching me how to make brownies is?"

"You're thinking about this the wrong way. Making brownies is just the first step."

"Is it?"

"Yeah. Just wait. Soon you'll be able to cook rice all on your own."

Widening his eyes, he steps closer. "No way."

"Yes way. And maybe boil some potatoes."

"Wow."

"Yeah. And I don't want you to get too excited, but you might even know how to heat up a can of soup."

"That's amazing."

"I know."

"All this knowledge in your brain," he says, grabbing my head and staring at it. "How does it all fit?"

"Paper clips. Keeps everything organised."

"Mm, makes sense," he mumbles. He stares at my forehead for another few seconds, before dropping his gaze to mine. He breaks out in a grin, and I laugh at him.

"We should play Trivial Pursuit," he says, moving his hands from my head to my hips.

Which is a totally normal thing for your best-friend-but-more type person to do. Totally normal.

"Should we?" I don't know what to do with my hands. I place them on his arms for lack of any better ideas.

Turns out I'm a genius. Edward has great arms.

"Yeah. As a team. All that organised knowledge? We can't lose."

"Who are we playing against?"

"Alice. It'll piss her off."

"Why?"

"She hates losing," he says, shrugging. He leans in and kisses me quickly, just the briefest press of his lips on mine. My toes curl up in my socks with surprise and delight.

I can't believe how easy this is. Doing stuff like this with him just twenty-four hours ago would've been impossible, and now it feels so natural I don't understand why we haven't been doing it all along.

"Doesn't seem like a nice way to treat your sister," I say, impressed with myself for managing to keep an even tone.

"So? She's my sister – I'm not supposed to be nice."

I skeptically narrow my eyes.

"It's true. I can be as mean as I want, and she still has to love me. It's a pretty sweet deal. Don't look at me like that."

"Do these same rules apply to you, though?"

"Well, she did push it that one time when we were nine and she opened my collectible Iron Man figure so she could marry him off to her Barbie, but other than that, yeah."

I roll my eyes, but he just squeezes one hand on my hip before letting go and heading for the fridge.

"So, Alice…" I say, nodding when he holds up a soda. "Does she know? Have you told her?"

"Told her what?"

"About…" I awkwardly gesture between us.

He slowly hands me a soda, studying me for a moment. "Not yet. I mean, she knows I like you, but I haven't told her about last night."

My heart warms at how casual he is when he says he likes me.

"Why not?"

He shrugs. "Hasn't come up yet. Why? Do you not want me to tell her?"

"No, it's not that," I say, shaking my head. "You can tell her. I think Mom kind of knows, so…"

"You told your mom?" For some reason, this makes him smile.

I tell him what happened at breakfast, and his grin spreads.

"Don't look at me like that," I say, punching his arm lightly. "Come on, are you going to help me with these brownies or not?"

He sighs, but rounds the counter anyway.

Later, as I watch him scrape batter out of the bowl, I almost manage to forget what I overheard in the locker room earlier. It still sits at the back of my mind, but it's muted now. Edward makes everything a little better, a little easier.

Something's brewing in my head, though, and I can't quite put my finger on what it is. It feels like I've blanked on a word I use all the time, like my own mother's name sits on the tip of my tongue as I stutter. It's a realization I clearly need to have, but it's not coming to me.

I have to get all the bits and pieces into the right order, and maybe, once they all fall into place, I'll know which way to go. Heads or tails. Safe or brave. Stay the same, or throw myself into the unknown.

Edward turns to me, spatula halfway to his mouth. "Oven?" he asks, pointing at the filled baking tray as he starts licking the batter off the spatula.

"Yes please," I laugh.

"Here, you have that," he says, nudging the bowl in my direction, before taking the tray over to the oven. He takes a step back when he opens it, heat billowing out at him, and I don't know why I find it absolutely adorable, but I do.

Everything he does is suddenly adorable.

My unrealized realization shuffles to the back of my mind, aware it's been dismissed for now.

I think I'll worry about it later.

Hey, guys. Sorry about the delay in posting this chapter - I was on holiday in Florida, basking/melting in the sun.

Thank you so much for reading. I hope you're still enjoying it.

Until next time xx