I'm startled that Edward took the time to drive over here. "What are you doing here?" I slam my door shut and walk up and lean down to peer into his open car window.
"Well, you didn't answer my call, so ...I was headed to Peter's next..." He raises his eyebrows and grins his crooked grin.
I swallow hard as that small vortex of excitement begins to swirl in the depths of my gut. "Why?"
"I said I needed to ask you something," he nods.
"You don't always get want you want," I say with defiance and even a tilt of my head.
"I know that."
"Good," I cross my arms. "Well go ahead, ask me."
"Let's go grab a bite to eat." He doesn't even ask, it sounds more like a command.
I'm not so sure I want to go anywhere with him. And arguing with him is kind of fun anyway. "No."
"Please, Bella. I want to talk to you about your play and we all need to eat, right?"
My spit is thick as molasses on my tongue. I don't know what it is about him that renders me speechless and makes me feel so strange, but it's intriguing.
"I want to take you for a drive too." He reaches over to the center of the console and pushes a button, the top clicks and hums before it rises and starts to fold down.
"Edward, it's February!"
"So get your coat and come on, I'll turn up the heat." Then he smiles that way where his whole face shifts upward and his eyes twinkle and you'd swear it's Christmas morning and he's six years old again.
His smile makes me feel that way too. That's totally normal right?
"Hold on," I announce to him with a drop of my shoulders. I pretend that going anywhere with him is the last thing I ever wanted to do, even though it sure doesn't feel that way.
He revs up the motor as I walk toward the house and I try my best not to smirk.
It doesn't work.
"Bella, there you are! Some boy named Edward called for you this morning," my mother says as I walk through the door.
"Yeah, sorry I forgot to call you back. I was at Peter's." I open the hall closet door and pull my out my thickest jacket.
"How is he?" My parents love Pete; they think the sun shines out of his ass. I know they expect me to ride his coattails right on out of this town because they want what's best for me. I just don't have the heart to tell them that Peter's not it.
"He's good Mom, he's just taking it easy for a while."
"You going out?" she asks at the same time that she glances out the window and spies Edward's canary yellow convertible with the top down sitting outside the house. "Bella, who is that?"
"That's Edward Cullen, the one who called earlier. He's Peter's understudy, so we are going to eat and talk about the play."
"As in Doctor Cullen's son?"
I swear her eyes light up and money signs appear.
"The one and only, but Mom, please. We're just friends." I slip my arms in my sleeves and take a deep breath before I head back outside, towards the unknown.
"Would Peter agree with that?" My mom narrows her eyes out the window as she asks.
I tell her the honest truth even though she may not want to hear it, "I don't even care." Then I slowly click the door closed and revel in how good it felt to say that aloud.
I slide into the small passenger seat of Edward's car and try not to deeply inhale the warm musk of his cologne that fills the car. The heater is blasting and spreading his scent everywhere around me, so I can't not smell it…and boy does it smell good.
He looks over at my house and waves at my mother who is still staring out of the window, before he slowly pulls away. I want to disappear into the floorboard.
He just chuckles and shakes his head.
"Nice car." I look up through the open roof at the darkening sky. "Is this one yours also?"
"Nope, it's my dad's. Car collecting is his hobby and if I'm behaving, he lets me drive them."
I nod, pretending to understand his way of life.
"After I graduate high school," he says, "I get my pick of one. So of course, I need to test them all out."
I resist the desire to roll my eyes. Oh the life of the rich.
Edward turns down the radio, his fingers lingering over the many controls on his console. "Have you ever ridden in a convertible in the cold of winter?"
A chill zips down my spine, "No, I haven't, it sounds…it sounds so crazy," I admit with a huff.
The engine roars louder as he steps harder on the gas. "It is."
The g-force of his speed pushes my head against the back of the seat. I feel as though we are about to take flight but I'm not the least bit scared.
I guess I trust him.
"Stand up." he shouts.
I whip my head around to gape at him. Surely I heard him wrong.
"Do it! Come on! Just once, hold on to the top of the windshield and stand up." His eyes are sparkling as he glances back from me to the road. He makes it sound so simple.
I contemplate all the consequences and what could be the worst thing to happen.
"Trust me." His smile overtakes my uneasiness so I zip up my coat and push my chair all the way back so I'll have some standing room.
Hot air pulses from the vents, clashing with the nip of the wind; each extreme battling for supremacy.
On unsure legs, I stand up; my head rising above the windshield that I'm clutching for dear life. The cold air rushes past me, the scenery waving by in a blur. The heat from Edward's heater takes its time as it floats upward and keeps me warm even though one third of me protrudes from the car. My skin can't decide if it's freezing or not, but gooseflesh covers me just the same.
My hair whips around, smacking my face. My eyes begin to tear, the saltwater hesitant to leave my lids. I keep my mouth closed, afraid that I might accidentally catch a bug with my teeth.
Edward goes a little bit faster; I can tell by the way my body wants to fall backwards.
But I can't explain the way I feel. Maybe now it's fear or maybe it's just plain stupid fun, but it's definitely something that I never knew I was missing. Maybe it's adrenaline from the danger or the thrill of doing what's risky. Then again, maybe it's just being here with Edward that makes me feel so alive. Either way, I love it.
I slowly let go of the windshield and unzip my coat. The chill envelopes me as it sneaks through my clothes as if they're nothing but a sheer material. At the same time, the heat hugs me just enough to remind me that I'm safe. My jacket flaps in the wind, and I almost wish I didn't even have one on.
My teeth begin to chatter but instead of retreating, I raise my hands up straight and tall. Edward now has the radio loud, but all I can hear is the zoom of the air as we cut through it. I can feel the pound of the bass in my legs and I bounce slightly to the beat.
A car passes us going the other way and honks its horn. In return I yell a scream that sounds like a drunken party girl from MTV's Spring Break Party on the beach.
Edward grabs my hand and yanks me down to sit again. I'm giggling and I can't stop. "Holy shit! That was awesome." I dry off the few tears that have wet my face and hold the back of my hand against my nose. It is so cold.
He's laughing with me. "Told you, but we're here. I'll take you for another ride after we eat."
I lean forward practically putting my face against the vents, trying to thaw my nose. "I think I'd like that."
Instead of parking he goes through the drive-through. I start to interject my opinion when he lifts up his hand and puts it over my mouth. He rolls down his window and gives our order without asking me what I want.
His hand falls and he drives around the building.
"What was that? I didn't…"
"Bella, when are you gonna start trusting me? You have to eat their cheeseburgers. You just have to."
"Okay," I mumble and settle back in my seat, not knowing how to act. Edward is the polar opposite of Peter, and I've been so used to being Peter's girlfriend for so long, I don't know how to be myself.
The girl working the window flirts endlessly with Edward. It's kind of sad how obvious she is and even worse is that he flirts back. He does somehow convince her to give us free milkshakes.
Once I make a gagging noise and turn my head to look out my window instead of watching them.
As he rolls up his window, he hands me a napkin with a number and a name written on it.
"Do you want this?" I hold it up and ask.
He shrugs.
I wad it up and throw it out of the open top, right before it closes.
He raises his eyebrows at me. "Hold these." He hands me the bag and drink tray. "I know a place."
"Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet." ~Roger Miller