Here we are. Edward and I on stage, in authentic costumes, pretending to be Queen Elizabeth and Lord Robert Dudley. It is surreal.
I've read so many stories of these two; I've watched every movie I could find, and now here I stand saying her words. Professing that I love this man with all my heart but in the end, love isn't enough.
Oh the irony.
Every day I feel it more. When he looks at me. When he holds my hand for way longer than necessary. When he recites Dudley's lines about love and devotion, he's speaking directly to my soul.
Or at least that's the way it seems to me.
And I'm scared. I have plans―big plans. If this scholarship goes the way I think it will, I could be gone from the states for years. Studying abroad is all I've ever wanted. I can't let a little thing called lust get in the way of my dreams.
It wouldn't be fair to Edward either. He's told me time and time again he can't wait to get out of town and head toward the east coast. He has family that owns a custom automotive shop and he's going to work there. His uncle has a job saved for him. That's his plan.
So why would we give into any chemistry that we may feel? Why would I dream about kissing him again? Kissing him harder, deeper? Having his hands touch every inch of my skin?
It would only complicate things.
When I leave the auditorium I remember that I parked my car in the D lot. That's one hell of a walk from here. At our school the auditorium with the main stage is a separate building from the school so that the city of Port Angeles can also use it for their functions. It's connected to our school by only a breeze-way because of the frequent rainy days.
Lucky for me, it's a top-notch place for a small stage production.
When I get to the lot, Edward and all his friends are standing around his car. Emmett yells my name for me to join them.
They seem to tolerate me now that they know Edward helping me with this play is helping Edward stay out of trouble.
"What are you doing tonight, B?" Emmett asks as he flips my ponytail.
"Where would I go? It's a Monday night; I'm going home." I roll my eyes.
A few of the guys snicker at my answer, but I don't care. I'm watching the way Edward is looking at me. He's mad that I came over here.
"Why doesn't she come with us, Eddie boy?" Emmett throws his arm around Edward's shoulder and gives him a hard yank.
But Edward is stiff and doesn't bend. "No, she said she was going home. She should go."
Now I'm offended.
"Edward has a drag race tonight. You don't want to go watch?" Emmett throws his hands up as he asks me.
Edward is shaking his head no at me. His nostrils are flared and his jaw is tight.
I turn to speak to Emmett, "No thank you Emmett. I prefer to not watch anyone knock on the front door of death for a measly couple hundred bucks. But good luck to you, Edward." I say with thick sarcasm. Then I turn to leave and flee the scene.
This crap, I do not need.
He runs after me. Behind me I hear his feet pounding the pavement. "Bella, wait!"
I open my door and throw my backpack into the other seat.
Then I put one foot in the car and look at him. I'm not giving him a nice look either.
"Don't be mad. You just don't belong there. It's—"
I interrupt him, "No, no! You're right, I don't belong there. Goodbye, Edward."
I slam my door and he puts his hands on his hips.
I try my best to act like I don't even know he's still standing there watching me as I drive away. I don't look back, even though every part of me wants to.
/ / /
The next day I don't see Edward at school, but he shows up for rehearsals. He has a cut on his lip and a bruise on his cheek.
I immediately grab his arm and yank him into the bathroom to inspect him under the bright lights.
"Let me see. You have to bend down so I can get a look at your face!" I whisper–shout. I can't decide if I'm more pissed or worried.
He leans back against the wall and bends his knees to slide down it a little so he is eye level with me.
I notice that's it's not too bad, but it won't be healed by Monday when we open.
"It's nothing," he says in what I think is a remorseful voice. "But I won, and the guy wasn't going to pay. So..."
I interrupt. "Save it, Edward. I don't want to hear it. But you know we'll have to put makeup on your face Monday before you go on stage."
"I hope not," he shuts his eyes and grumbles, which makes me giggle. He huffs out a deep breath and his head falls back against the wall.
Something about seeing him down and hurt and defeated, makes my resolve to be tough crumble quickly.
I rub over the bruise gently with my finger. It doesn't feel like it should be purple, and it doesn't feel sore to me when I touch it. Instead, it feels like man and desire and sin.
"Why'd you go and mess up your pretty face?" I barely touch the red cut above his lip. My finger lingers for way too long against the swollen pink of his lip.
I can tell he's looking at me. My body's doing that reacting thing it does in response to him.
"You think my face is pretty?" His voice has an edge to it, an edge I find myself clinging to.
I nod and ball up my fist, forcing my fingers away from his skin.
"You know, yours isn't too bad either." He reaches out and curls his finger through the belt loop in my jeans.
Just like that everything slams into my chest. The yes and the no. The reasons we shouldn't do this and the reasons I want to more than anything. I circle my arms around my chest to keep from breaking from the battle of confusion and want.
"Edward, what are we doing?" It's a plea in the form of a whisper that's heavy and thick and hard to say.
His feet slide forward on the floor to encase each side of my legs, while his backside slides down the wall a little more. He slides his hands around to grab each side of my waist and pulls me in to stand in between his legs. His head falls forward on my shoulder, finding a place to rest.
"I don't know Bella. I just don't know."
And there we stand. His head on me. My arms wrapped around myself. His hands on my sides, holding me. Nothing is for certain or defined―just that we want and we need, and yet we don't.
/ / /
The rest of the week passes by way too quickly. Everything seems to be rushed and unorganized, even though it's not.
I'm a bundle of stress ready to explode.
I spend all weekend at the auditorium going over lights, and camera angles, and musical interludes. I don't even get the chance to think about my feelings for Edward or Peter.
It's safe to say I'm ready for this production to be over.
Then it's like I blink and it's Monday night and the seats in the auditorium are filling up. Backstage is a flurry of activity as fellow cast mates run left and right.
My breathing speeds when I hear the roar from the crowd finding their seats.
But I'm not the least bit nervous. In fact, I'm too excited because this is really it. Everything I've worked toward.
I'm standing to stage left, dressed and ready, listening to the narration when I see Edward walking toward me. His steps are slow and unsure. He looks wonderful. His hair is combed, his makeup applied, his costume flawless, and his eyes are sparkling bright.
He stops when he sees me. His smile grows and I feel the stir in my heart and just like that I know.
It's more than friendship, it's more than lust. I am in love with that boy. Head over heels.
What a time to come to that realization.
"Wow, Bella. You look amazing." I smile and nod at his words.
"You look so handsome." I respond. I want to hug him, to have him hold me and get me to that place where he makes me feels like everything's going to be all right, but there isn't enough time.
"And that dress makes your tits look fabulous!" Edward points to my chest and instantly the awkward is gone as I laugh.
He grabs my hand and links our fingers. I focus on that, on how good we look together, and how right it feels, even though everything about us points in an opposite direction.
He lifts our hands and kisses my knuckles. "You're going to do great," he whispers as our eyes begin to get lost in the other.
"So are you," I squeeze his hand and nod.
"Let's do this," he says with a wink and then he leads me on stage and the rest of my life begins.
"Love is something you can't describe like the look of a rose, the smell of the rain, or the feeling of forever." ~Zadie Smith