He parks in the middle of a dirt road on a clearing high on a hill. I look around and see nothing but faint street lights in the distance ahead, trees behind the car, and sky all around us. I'm in awe.
"Where are we?" I'm sure I've never been here before.
Edward doesn't shut off the engine but it's so quiet, you can barely hear the hum. "This is my thinking place; it's where I come to be alone and...you know…think."
"You mean Edward Cullen—the juvenile delinquent—actually has a thinking place? Who would have guessed that?" I poke at him.
He takes the bag out of my hand and opens it up. The aroma of meat and cheese and bacon makes my mouth water. I hadn't realized I was even hungry.
"You better not spill my secrets, Queen Bella. I know where you live." His smile instantly droops into a more serious expression. "Seriously though, I've never brought anyone up here before." He hands me my burger.
"Why now? Why me?" There's a pounding in my chest that might be my nerves, or it might be my heart, but whichever one, I sure enough feel it in my toes.
"Why not?" He shrugs. "You know more about me than most."
I disagree, "Not really. I only know what I've heard, but I don't think I really know you... Matter of fact, I don't think I know you at all."
"You know enough." He pushes a button on his stereo and my dad's voice fills the closed space around us.
I look away and take a bite. He was right—this is a really good burger, huge and messy but... dang. I chew slowly and ignore the lump of nerves that's heavy in my throat as my voice fills the cab of the car from his high dollar speakers.
"Thou art like my little dog, Robert. When people see thee, they know I am nearby."
"Is that a compliment Elizabeth? For I think not so."
My father's deep voice mixed with his fake English accent makes me giggle. Edward laughs too, then turns down the radio and wipes his mouth with a napkin.
"Bella, why did you do it?"
I take my time swallowing my food, wiping my mouth, and taking a drink. Why do I feel guilty suddenly? "Does it really matter?"
He turns away from me to look out his window and barely nods his head.
"If it makes any difference, I've meant to make an audio of the play since before rehearsals even began. I thought it might help me with edits and stuff. My family always said they'd help me and then after you and I talked, I decided it was as good a time as any."
The cramped quarter around us is silent for what seems like forever.
Edward clears his throat, "You promise?"
"Yeah, I promise."
"You just didn't do it for me?" He looks back at me and his eyes look so sad and burdened.
There's a part of me that wants to lie to him, tell him I did it only for him, but I didn't. "I did it for both of us."
He takes another drink. "I'm not comfortable with people going out of their way for me."
I don't know why Edward is opening up to me like he is; why he has deemed me worthy. I just know that everyone needs a friend sometimes and I can be good at that, I think.
"What about your tutors?" I suggest.
"They're getting paid to do it." He answers without emotion.
"What about your teachers?" My voice raises a little.
"Honestly, Bella? Do you even have to ask?" He shakes his head.
"They're getting paid to do it too?"
"Of course." He nods, and the more I think about it, the more it pisses me off.
"You father pays your teachers to give you your work? What the hell, Edward? That's their job!"
"I know it's more to keep quiet about it than it is because they're going out of their way to help me. So I'm not offended; it's all right." He laughs a cynical laugh and I'm not convinced that he's not offended.
I huff and wad the rest of that huge-ass burger up in my paper. I just lost my appetite. "Well, I am. That's bull crap."
"Feisty little girl, you are." Slowly his eyes travel down my body, leaving a tiny sizzle simmering on my skin. "Try your milkshake."
I pick it up and take a slow drink, happy for the change of conversation. "Mmm, that's good."
"Thank you, Bella, for making me those CD's. I really appreciate it and I swear I'll do the best I can to memorize Dudley's part."
I smile at him."That's all I ask."
"Now tell me some more about your favorite queen's back story."
He reclines in his seat, drink in hand, and warm air rolls out of the vents around us.
"Really? Gosh, where do I start?"
We sit for hours in his car. I ramble about Queen Elizabeth and he listens so intently. Sometimes he asks questions, but mostly he acts as though what I say is the most important thing in the world.
It's a foreign feeling.
I think I'm in some parallel universe. I know most people have to have a deep-rooted desire to want to learn about history the way I do; it isn't for everyone. Yet, he keeps encouraging me to keep on talking, saying it will help him understand the play.
I am beyond flattered.
"You have such passion about all this. It makes me jealous." Edward turns up the heater and starts to let the top down again.
It's early evening. The stars are just appearing in the darkening sky. Edward stops the top from opening completely, giving us just enough of a ceiling for an unobstructed view. I guess also keeping in as much of the heat as he can.
"Do you need your coat?" He reaches into the back seat and hands it to me.
"Thanks." I cover up with it instead of putting it on. I mock him and recline my seat so I can lie back and look up.
"So tell me, what are you passionate about?" I ask, wanting to know more about him.
"That's easy. Getting out of town. Living on my own. Freedom." His voice is so flat, so void of life. It kind of hurts.
"Is your life really so bad here?"
"No, it's not, but it's what I have passion about. I'm counting down the days." He genuinely smiles at me and the stars reflect bright in his eyes and it's all I can focus on.
It one of those moments when you can feel the rarity in the air—a place you'd thought you'd never be, a sight you assumed you'd never see, a warmth in your heart you hope to never lose. It's special.
"Why do you do the things you do? The racing, the fighting? I don't think that's you, Edward."
"Bella, don't give me so much credit. That is me, but yeah—there's a little more there that I don't share with anyone. Well, until now."
"You should though. All this nice Edward-ness shouldn't be wasted on me."
He puffs out his lips and a hush falls between us. "How come all the girls like you are taken?"
Even though I'm blushing like crazy, I can't help but laugh. "Please, like you'd ever have a steady girlfriend."
"Yeah," he whines, "you're probably right." But he's not smiling nor is he looking at me.
"Besides girls like me have different priorities than guys like you do." I stammer for an answer that doesn't sound like I'm snobby or stuck up.
"What? Priorities like getting the hell out of Dodge after high school?"
I nod and wrap my arms around myself a little tighter. "You got me there."
"I know, I know, girls like you have high standards right?" He's grinning a little now, but something inside me still doesn't feel right having this conversation.
"Sort of," I admit. "The girls you're usually associated with don't have the best of reputations."
"Like what?" he pretends to not know what I'm referring to, but I'd bet money he knows.
"You know! Your lady friends don't have standards at all." I laugh, the mood has lightened finally.
"Come on!" He slaps his hands on his knees. "Do you know how many girls want a piece of me?"
"Uh... yeah, the desperate ones are forming a waiting line, I'm sure."
His laugh is deep and bottomless and I swear the temperature of the car climbs ten degrees in an instant.
"What about all the guys who want to be me? What do you think about them?"
That's a no-brainer. "They want the easy girls," I say in a sing-song voice. "And I might add, I've heard of how many of those girls there have already been."
He shakes his head.
"There's where those standards should kick in." I jokingly whisper.
"I guess but you really shouldn't believe everything you hear, but it is what it is. We all can't be a Peter O'Reilly."
It feels as though he slapped me right across my face and the sting travels downward penetrating every inch of me. I ignore the want to retaliate. What would I even say? Instead, I stare straight up and focus on the stars. The cold breeze seems to quickly invade the gap around me, causing me to shiver.
He doesn't say anything else and the quiet around us now is thick and uncomfortable.
"It's getting late, I should get you home."
I nod and right my seat before I buckle my seat belt.
I close and rest my eyes as he shuts the top again.
The stars disappear, just like his good mood.
He's right; I do need to go home.
I don't belong here.
"Problems in life are like rain. And the nice thing about rain, is that it always stops." ~Unknown