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Chapter 13
11 October 2011
"Can we eat these yet?" I ask, pointing at the brownie tray.
Bella looks up from the sink, water and suds up to her wrists. I tried to tell her she didn't have to wash up, but she just looked at me, exasperated. Then I tried to help, but quickly received an eyeroll and a light command to go away. That's when I tickled her and got an elbow in the ribs.
I let her wash up in peace after that.
She flips her head, trying to get a strand of hair out of her face. "I think it's too warm, still." The strand falls right back to where it was before, and she tries to blow it away with a huff.
Trying not to grin too much, I step closer and smooth it behind her ear. She looks up at me, surprise quickly giving way to a blushing sort of shyness.
"Thanks."
"No problem," I say, dropping my hand, flexing my fingers as the touch lingers. "And, as it so happens, I like too warm brownies. In fact, I prefer them."
"Oh?" Her quirked eyebrow suggests she doesn't believe me.
"Yeah."
She glances over her shoulder again, lips slightly pursed. "Five more minutes."
She rinses off the bowl she's been washing before balancing it on the drying rack. As she wipes her hands, I study the strand of hair, curling against her jaw. I want to kiss her.
I can't believe I can finally kiss her.
"When will your family be home?" she asks, and my pulse trips over itself. Is she reading my mind?
"I don't know, in an hour maybe? Why?"
"No, just wondering. We could leave some brownies for them."
I elegantly "Psh."
"What, you're going to eat that entire tray by yourself?" There's that eyebrow again. I should tease her about that.
"You can have a piece."
"Gee, thanks," she mutters, but she pokes my stomach with a smile as she passes. I almost grab her wrist and pull her back. Because I can do that now. She takes a seat on one of the bar stools, resting her chin in her palm. I stand opposite her, arms crossed loosely over my chest.
"So what do we do now, if we're not having brownies?" I ask. I mean, I know what I want to do — the same thing I've been wanting to do every day for the last six months. Especially now, when we're not outside, or hiding in a library. We're in my house. Alone.
Bella's in my house, and we're alone. How many times have I imagined this exact scenario?
She shrugs. "You can tell me about this plan of yours."
I stare at her, uncomprehending.
Both eyebrows go up now, an uncertain bend to them. "From… Gym? You said you had a plan."
Oh. "Oh. Right, yeah." I laugh, scrubbing a hand down my face. "I, uh, I didn't actually have a plan. At the time."
She blinks at me. "What?"
I lean forwards over the counter, reaching out to touch the back of her hand. She turns her eyes down to watch as I trace the veins under her skin, copying her move from earlier today.
"I just wanted to team up with you," I admit, shrugging.
"Oh," she says, quietly. Her expression doesn't change very much. Uncertainty dews in my stomach, and I still my fingers.
She always manages to do this to me; I'll get to a point where I think I can read her every mood and feeling, just from the way her face changes, or the smallest inflection in her voice. But then she throws a curveball out of nowhere, and I'm left scrambling to catch up and not look like an idiot.
I tell myself it drives me nuts, but in all honesty, it's one of my favorite things about her.
"Is that okay? It was fine, right? I mean, people didn't seem to care very much."
Something passes over her face, a small crease forming and then smoothing out between her eyebrows. Curveball. She takes a small breath and looks up from our hands. "You think so?"
"Yeah," I say, injecting more confidence than I actually have on the subject. "It was fine."
She chews a bit on her lip, but her shrug this time is less uncertain and more conceding. I find myself smiling, and she narrows her eyes.
"Don't be smug," she tells me, her own lips twitching. She reaches out and pinches the skin on my wrist.
I move it away, grabbing her hand and twisting our fingers together instead. "I'm not smug. I'm never smug. I don't even know what that means."
She laughs on a single breath, seemingly despite herself. "Don't."
"Don't what?" I tug on her hand, pulling her closer over the counter.
"You're impossible," she says, and I don't really know what she's talking about, but she seems happy, so I don't care.
I bend closer, kissing her. I feel it in more than my lips. Even more so when I move back and she's looking at me, brown eyes deep and sparkling.
I lean my hips against the counter.
If I'm impossible, it's only because she makes me that way.
"I do have a plan now, though," I say, and some sense and reason seems to return to her face. Her eyebrows rise, posing a gentle question. I wonder if she knows how much she speaks through her eyebrows. I doubt it; she'd probably grow long bangs if she did.
I open my mouth to tell her what I have in mind — how we can use this Gym partner thing as a way to become friends in public, gently introducing the school to the idea of us as more — when I realize I actually have no idea if that's what she wants at all.
I'm making assumptions. What if she doesn't think of us as 'more' now? Just because we've kissed and we like each other, it doesn't mean we're together. Not technically. And god knows what her thought process has been about the entire thing.
I want us to be together. Officially. I want people to know what claim she has on me, and I want her to know it, too. But maybe she's thinking we'll just make the kissing and the hand-holding a part of what we already have, and change nothing else.
Not that kissing in the tree-house doesn't sound great, but I want more than that.
I cast my eyes down. How do I bring this up without freaking her out?
"What?" she asks, after a moment. "What's your plan?"
I take a deep breath, and then tell her in broad strokes what we might be able to do. When I glance up at her, her eyes are unreadable. "If you want," I finish, a nervous sort of skittering taking residence just below my breastbone.
She takes a moment to mull it over. She doesn't look completely horrified. Yet.
"So, like, by next week, you might say hi to me when we pass each other in the hallway or whatever?" she asks, and the skittering foolishly reveals itself to be hope.
I swallow it down as best I can. "Yeah, something like that."
"And then what do we do?" She looks genuinely curious, if hesitant and sceptical, but it's more than I ever thought I'd get out of her so quickly. It usually takes her a few hours, if not days, to get to this point.
I level my voice, trying not to sound too excited. "Then… I don't know. Maybe you'll say hi back. And the next day, I'll stop and talk to you for a minute before class." I watch her closely, and she slowly starts to lose some of the scepticism. Is she actually considering this? "We can do that for a while. Then we could have lunch together. Or something. And, eventually, maybe we… go on a date?"
Her shoulders pull up a little, but she doesn't close down. She looks conflicted, as if torn between two responses. I don't have to be a mindreader to know what those responses might be. I'm only surprised she's torn between them.
"It's your choice," I say, which I realize too late isn't what she needed to hear — she looks at me with sudden worry, a troubled bend to her lips and a furrowed brow following suit. I'm such an idiot. I can't talk about wanting to be together and then dump the decision on her shoulders alone. "I mean. I just… I know what I want. You know what I want," I say, smiling self-deprecatingly. "And I won't push you. So… whatever you want. I'm fine with either. You can even flip a coin, if it makes you feel better," I joke.
She glances up sharply at that. I have no idea what I've said that's making her react, but whatever it is, it's drained some of the worry from her face. She studies me closely, something suspiciously like determination growing behind her eyes.
"And, what? Heads we keep it secret, tails we don't?"
I half-shrug, unable to keep a small grin off my face. A loosely constructed joke about being happy with either head or tail forms unbidden in my head, and I discard it before it can escape.
I'm awful.
She absentmindedly rubs her thumb along mine as she looks at me, thinking. I wait, as patiently as I can.
After a moment, she takes a deep breath, and it's only now, in retrospect, that I realize I saw the exact moment she came to her conclusion — the look in her eye has changed, a steelier resolve taking shape there.
"I think… we could try," she says, and it's another curveball, straight to my head.
I blink at her, disoriented. Is she serious? "Really?"
"Yeah."
I can barely hold back a smile. "Seriously?"
She laughs, very clearly at me, not with me. "Yes. Being secret friends is one thing, but now… It— I mean, we're… you know." She trails off, a tell-tale blush pinkening her cheeks.
More? Is that what's she's thinking?
"I know," I tell her, squeezing her fingers, and she glances at me through her lashes. Understanding passes between us.
I move around the counter until I'm right next to her — I have to. She swivels her chair to face me, and her smile goes from shy to pleased. Everything in my chest clenches. I would do almost anything to draw a smile like this from her.
Lowering my head, she raises hers, until we're forehead to forehead. I can only just see her eyes, even if she's so close they're just a blur. The tip of her nose slides along mine until our lips brush together, and I can feel her smile. She kisses me slowly, sweet and warm.
My stomach jolts, and I slip a hand up her neck, cupping the back of her head. Her hair is soft under my fingers, and I think I could keep kissing her forever. I can't believe this is my reality now.
Her quiet exhale pulls me closer, and her knees part to either side of my hips.
Her hands become more adventurous, sliding up and down my sides and across my back in slow strokes. I let mine do the same. I explore the curve of her shoulders, the softness of the skin I can reach, the dip right before her waist becomes her hip. Her ribs expand under my hands when I pull her lip in between my own in a soft bite.
She kisses me a bit more ambitiously than before. My pulse picks up, and it gets difficult to breathe evenly. Her fingers find their way into my hair, and the tight tug draws a groan from my throat. She presses closer, knees tightening around my hips.
A dim crinkling sound knocks against my brain, but my reactions are so sluggish I've barely even acknowledged it when its source barrels into the kitchen.
"Hey, Ed— Oh, hey, whoa, whoa!"
My eyes fly open as Bella twists in my grasp, and we both look toward the door. Alice stands there, staring at us with her arms full of brown paper bags. A leek sticks out of one, almost poking her in the eye.
Oh, shit.
Before I can move, Mom appears behind her, glancing up from her phone just in time to see me snatching my hands away from Bella's torso.
Alice's mouth hangs open. Mom blinks, looking back and forth between us.
Bella drops her arms from around my neck with a small gasp, and I step back, a nervous laugh trying to force its way up my throat. I push against it, and it comes out like a strangled grunt.
A choked cry for help.
Mom's lips twitch. Shit.
She hits the light-switch before taking a few tentative steps into the kitchen. Her eyes stay trained on Bella. "Hi, sweetie," she says, like everything is just normal and fine. "This is a pleasant surprise." She pauses, glancing at me, then back at Bella. "How are you? I haven't seen you around for a while."
I glance at Bella, too, and become slightly alarmed. I don't think I've ever seen her face so red before.
"Uhm. Hi. Mrs Cullen," she croaks, stumbling slightly as she slips off the stool onto her feet. "I'm fine. Thank you."
"We just met your mom at the store. Didn't we, Alice?" Mom turns to my sister, who nods. Once Mom turns away, Alice glances at me and breaks out in a diabolical grin.
My stomach drops. Shit.
"Oh," Bella says weakly.
"You're home early," I blurt. I don't know why. I can see the time on the microwave just behind Mom's head. They're not home early.
I'm an idiot.
"It's almost six o'clock, Edward," Mom points out. She walks over to the kitchen counter, placing the grocery bags down. "I didn't realize you two were…" She trails off and then gestures with her finger between us, smiling serenely.
Alice gleefully watches on.
I glance at Bella just as she glances at me. Her eyes seem to be begging me to get us out of this.
"It's, uh… It's recent."
"Oh." Mom smiles, clearly aware there's more to it than that, but thankfully she drops it. "Are you staying for dinner, Bella? I'm making spaghetti."
"Oh, uhm…" Bella stutters, and I turn to look at her, giving her a reassuring smile. I try to keep as much hopefulness out of it as possible — I don't want to pressure her into saying yes, but I know she won't unless she gets a sign from me that I would like her to stay.
And I would like her to stay. Even if dinner is going to be awkward after what Mom and Alice walked in on, I don't want her to leave yet.
She holds my gaze for a moment before turning back to Mom. "Sure, that'd be— Uhm, thank you."
"Great!" Mom looks delighted. "Just let your mom know you're staying here. Edward, honey, help your sister unpack the groceries, please. I'll get the rest of the bags from the car."
She leaves, and silence descends over the kitchen.
I throw a warning glare at Alice. She smirks, and waltzes towards us.
"Well, well, well…" she says, putting her bags down on the counter.
I glare harder. "Shut up, Alice."
"What?" she laughs. "I didn't say anything."
"And it's going to stay that way," I say, reaching for the bag closest to me. I pull out a pack of the yoghurts only Mom ever eats.
"Don't be such a baby. Are you seriously telling me you wouldn't say anything if this had happened with me and Jasper?"
"It did happen with you and Jasper," I say, and her smirk falls away immediately. I turn to Bella. "He fell out of her bedroom window trying to sneak out one time when Mom came home early from work. Sprained his ankle."
Bella looks slightly stunned. Alice's mouth drops open for a second in outrage before she closes it.
"Jerk," she mutters. To Bella, she says, "It wasn't that bad."
"Not that bad? Dad made him stay for dinner so he could 'keep an eye on it.' How long did it take Jazz to come back here? Three months?" It's my turn to smirk now, and Alice pinches her mouth shut in an obvious effort not to yell at me in front of Bella.
"Again: jerk. And all you're doing is proving I've had to endure way worse teasing from you, so you should give me this one," she says, gesturing with her finger between us.
"What, like the trauma I sustained from one of my best friends falling out of my sister's bedroom doesn't mean you owe me for the rest of your life?"
Alice stares at me, and then slaps at my arm with the leek in her hand. "Don't be such a turd."
"Grow up."
"You grow up."
"No, I meant physically. Stop being so short."
"Careful not to hit your head on the ceiling, you flagpole. Don't want to lose the last of your braincells."
I grab the yoghurt and the milk and head for the fridge. "I'd still have more left than you."
"Asshole," she says.
Bella stares at us. I wonder if she regrets agreeing to stay for dinner yet.
Once all the groceries have been put away, and Alice has discovered we made brownies — "Oh my god, I think I might be in love with you, Bella" — we head for the living room while Mom starts cooking. I take Bella's hand and pull her down next to me on the couch. Her cheeks turn pink, but she doesn't really stop smiling after that, even when she's talking to Alice or texting her mom to let her know she's staying here.
Maybe if Alice hadn't seen us kissing, I wouldn't behave so openly. We'd probably pretend we're still just friends. But it feels so nice to not have to. I'm tired of pretending my feelings for Bella aren't there, and having Alice know is like a huge weight off my shoulders.
I feel like I can do anything.
When Bella goes to the bathroom, Alice turns to me.
"You're freaking adorable," she says.
I don't know if she means me specifically, or me and Bella, but it doesn't really matter. I laugh, scrubbing a hand down my face. "Thanks."
"Is this why you went for a walk yesterday? To see Bella?"
"Yeah. Picked her up at her house."
Alice leans her chin on her palm. "And you told her?"
"It kind of slipped out." I grin; I can't help it. I still can't really believe I finally grew the balls to tell her. "Turns out she likes me, too."
"I told you. It was so obvious." Alice's smile is indulgent. "But even if it hadn't been, I could've guessed from walking in on you guys sucking face."
I snort, leaning my head back against the couch. "Speaking of which, could you keep that to yourself? We're not really… It's kinda—"
Alice arches an eyebrow. "Secret?"
"Yeah," I sigh. Not with resignation, like I would've before. With a smile, this time. "We've talked about it and stuff, and she's okay with making things more public, but it's going to take a while."
She nods. "Okay. I wasn't going to tell anyone anyway, but I get it."
I dip my chin down slightly as I give her a look. "You can tell Jasper."
She flashes her phone. "Already did. Sorry," she says, sounding not sorry at all. "He's under oath, though, so he won't say anything either. Obviously."
I snort, once again, but then reach my fist out. "Thanks, Al."
She bumps it, and then we explode our hands, both making a quiet bomb noise. We've been doing it since we were seven. I have no idea why.
When Bella comes back and sits down next to me, her thigh brushing mine, I don't have to suppress the urge to drape my arm over her shoulders.
I feel invincible.
Like I can do anything.
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I walk her home after dinner. We don't cut through the woods, but take the long way around the neighborhood. I hold her hand the entire time.
"So, your family's… uhm…"
"Insane," I say, smiling down at her. "I know."
It would seem Dad was briefed on the kitchen incident before he got home. As soon as he'd greeted Bella, he told me off for defiling his kitchen.
It kind of went downhill from there.
"I just didn't expect them to be so…"
"Insane?"
"Well, yeah."
"Eh, this was nothing. I mean, Dad's definitely the worst one. You should've seen what Alice had to go through last year when Jasper fell out of her bedroom window."
She laughs. "Yeah, what's the story behind that?"
Laughing too, I tell her the whole thing — how I hadn't even known Jasper and Alice were dating, let alone that he was in the house, and how, that day, I'd been helping Mom unload the dishwasher when suddenly there was a scream and something fell past the window. We'd both rushed outside to find Jasper curled up on himself in Mom's flower bed, clutching his ankle.
"And Alice comes running, basically sobbing hysterically because she's convinced he's broken his neck," I say, while Bella listens, wide-eyed and laughing with her hand over her mouth. "I filmed it all on my phone. I keep threatening Alice I'll put the video up on Facebook if she gets too annoying."
"That's, uh… Wow," Bella chuckles. "Was Alice grounded for having Jasper in her room?"
I grin, unable to resist the chance to tease her. "Why? You planning on falling out of my window?"
She blushes and looks away, making me laugh.
"No. God," she says. "No."
"No? Not at all? Bummer."
She can't look at me, and she can't quite keep a smile off her face, either. "That's not what I meant."
"Oh, sorry. Guess I got a little excited. I wouldn't mind you falling out of my window, you know."
I really, definitely wouldn't.
"Why can't you fall out of my window?" She manages to regain some control of her face, and attempts a serious glare at me.
"Well, I guess I could. But I think your dad might shoot me. Mine's a doctor. He'd tend to your injuries. My window might be a safer bet."
"I don't think he'd shoot you."
"Are you sure? Because I'd rather be safe than sorry."
"Don't you think you'd be better at climbing in and out of windows than me? I mean, you're… athletic. Your odds of surviving window-climbing are much better than mine."
I chuckle, white steam rolling out of my mouth. "That's true. Didn't think about that."
She bumps me with her shoulder, and we walk the rest of the way in comfortable silence.
I walk her up to the door. The porch-light isn't on, but there's just enough light flooding out from the living room window that she's more than a vague shape in front of me.
"So," I say, letting our hands hang between us. "Good day. Very productive."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. We made brownies, made a plan. Provided my family with material to fuel their jokes for years to come. All good things."
"Definitely," she laughs. "Maybe not so much the jokes, but the brownies were good. And I like our plan."
"Me too. I mean, it's not the most detailed plan in the world, but overall it's pretty solid."
"Who needs details anyway?"
"Yeah, exactly," I say. "We're smart. We can figure it out as we go along."
"Right. By the seat of our pants."
I throw my head back and laugh. "Okay, sure."
"What? That's what it's called," she mutters as I pull her into a hug.
"I know," I chuckle, wrapping my arms around her. She leans her head against my chest, and I could definitely get used to this.
We hug for a while, gently swaying without really thinking about it. Her arms around my waist, hand against my back. I don't want to leave.
"Hey, I, uh… I talked to Alice," I say, and she leans away to look at me.
"What did you talk about?"
"About what she saw. I told her we're not telling anyone yet," I say, pausing as the wind blows hair across her face. I carefully tuck the strands behind her ear, lingering with my fingers against her neck. "She was great about it. She promised not to tell anyone."
"That was nice," she says, smiling softly. "Thank you, for talking to her."
"Yeah, no problem."
Then I kiss her. Just because I can.
"I'd better get going," I mumble once I've pulled back, reluctantly dropping my arms from around her.
The corners of her mouth turn down a little bit. "Yeah."
"Thanks for today," I say. "It was fun."
"It was." Her smile is slow, but soft and so honest it makes my chest hurt.
Ducking my head, I take the few steps down her porch. I need to make myself leave, or I never will, I don't think. "Night, Bella. See you tomorrow."
"Yeah. Tomorrow."
We hold gazes for a moment as I walk backwards down the yard. Abruptly she turns around and fumbles for her key, but once she gets the door unlocked, she glances back at me over her shoulder, like she can't help herself.
I wave before shoving both hands in my pockets. I force myself to turn around. To keep walking away.
When I glance back over my shoulder, she's still watching me, a quiet smile on her face.
Hi. Sorry for the long wait on this one - there was one little scene I wanted to edit, and it stubbornly refused to cooperate.
There aren't many EPOVs in this story, but he pipes up every now and then. Hope you guys enjoyed his perspective on things.
Until next time xx