Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.
Beta'd by HollettLA
Hey! I'd like to wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving! Hope you all eat to your heart's desire, enjoy your time with your families! And to those of you who do not celebrate, have a wonderful weekend filled with fun-fuckery and wicked times! Don't do anything I wouldn't do (shakes finger) This is actually the biggest party weekend of the year - here in the states. So, whether you gobble up mad turkey, go see a movie, trample people to get to stores - on Black Friday - or party hearty, just make sure you have a great time! And be safe! Yeah, I wish all of you who decide to deep fry your turkeys a safe holiday!
Me? Eh, I'm working - on call - so M and I will likely have a quiet time at home, and eat chicken. LOL. Neither of us care for turkey . . .
And I'd just like to say how thankful I am for all of you - the readers. This sure as hell has been a wild time, bringing you all the Storm Series! You all encourage and inspire me daily, all the freaking time, and that's what I'm thankful for this Thanksgiving, having all this support world wide :-)
Enjoy!
And . . . THANK YOU!
Riders on the Storm
Chapter Thirty-Two: In Between
BELLA POV
"Bella," Edward whispered. "You up?"
I stiffened briefly, waking and managing to keep my breathing even. Oddly enough, I didn't even remember going to sleep last night. It was morning, though—I could just feel it.
"Yo…" He nudged me, and I moaned as I turned my head—not wanting to get out of bed.
When I felt the mattress dip beside me, I didn't move. Then I caught a breeze while Edward peeled my panties away.
Was I still wearing that dress from last night?
Tired and yet awake, I wondered if I was still tipsy; meanwhile, I didn't want to open my eyes.
"Bella?" Edward nuzzled his nose to my cheek, easing between my legs.
And I know . . . that if I pretend to sleep through it, he'll finish that much faster, or he'll go to his side and knock back out.
"Stop frontin'…I know you're up." He entered me only to pause as I tried to keep the façade going. "You moaned. I heard you." Edward picked up a rhythm, wrapping my legs around his hips.
"Shut up." I cleared my throat, a grin developing while I faced him. "Morning."
"Yeah." He snuck his hands down to hold my ass, get in there good, and my eyes widened.
He was getting in there good . . .
"Fuck." I placed my arms around his neck, holding him close. "What time is it?" Since last night was New Year's Eve, I'd planned to sleep all day. There's shit to do later, but not before three p.m.
"I dunno . . ." He leaned away to push my legs back.
"Just…" I felt badly not wanting anything fancy as I grimaced and pulled him closer.
"Fine." He grumbled, huffing out a breath and going faster.
I had to pee, although this was awesome. Sex with my husband is always amazing, but . . .
"Hurry up."
Edward furrowed his brow. "I would if it didn't feel like the Sahara." He spit in his hand.
Before he brought it down, I punched his chest.
"The fuck was that for?" he asked, rubbing out his pain, which is what he will be doing . . .
Coming at me before coffee is a signature Edward move. But after having drinks with the girls last night, it brought something back—reminded me of something Maggie said.
You get that girl liquored up, and it's "Santino this" and "Santino that" . . .
Apparently, my son has been spoiled lazy, and so has Edward. They think they own someone and then . . . They pass Go, Marvin Gardens, and the Community Chest, thinking they own the whole board already.
Basically, they forget all about foreplay. Most times, my husband and I can be beasts and it just doesn't matter. This morning, however, the small thought invaded my brain and stayed there for a beat too long.
He could have woken me up by going down on me, right? That's much more pleasant.
"Did'ju fall back to sleep?" He lightly hit my cheek.
I smacked his chest.
"Oww. What?" he shouted, grabbing my hips to go deeper.
"Nothing." I folded my arms across my tits, realizing I still wore that push-up bra.
"You said…last night…we were gonna fuck. Then you passed out." He groaned, working himself up again. "Couldn't get it out my head."
I didn't roll my eyes; I moaned for dramatic effect and to rush him along. Edward was really into it, though, fucking the daylights outta me. "Oh, yeah!"
His hands came up to mess my hair, hold my face, and the rapid movement jostled and startled me. "I love you." He growled out, burying his face into my neck. "Fuck, baby."
"Shit . . . I love you, too." My eyes widened, rocking back and staring up at the ceiling as a small smile crept up to my lips. "I love you." My tone was hushed this time, meaning that shit a lot more.
Edward didn't answer me with words. He kissed down my neck to pull my dress and bra away.
"Easy." I scolded lightly since I love this bra, and Hurricane Edward destroys anything in his path. "I'll just—" My eyes did roll; Edward clamped down on my nipple, making me cry out.
"Fuck." He went faster, going deeper—the deepest—and then he stilled.
. . . And I was just beginning to get into it.
Alas, I knew he wasn't going to last that long. Early morning romps never usually do, especially since our bodies are trained in the AM to rush, having had to get kids off to school for dozens of years.
"Whew…" He rolled over, breathing heavily. "Morning, baby." He squeezed my thigh.
I blinked, pushing my dress down. "What time is it?"
"Oh . . . it's a quarter after eleven."
"Wow." I thought it was like seven, judging by how tired I was. "What's everyone doing?"
"No clue." Edward kissed my palm. "Dame said he was going back to the hospital early. Kylie and Dad are probably . . . I have no idea, but I bet they're together."
I snickered, a genuine smile forming.
Ed Sr. didn't tell us until he got off the plane that he'd sold his apartment in Midtown. He arrived in New York, expecting to stay with us. It was Edward's genius idea to lie to our daughter . . . to keep some distance between her and Gio while he's home for the winter break.
I didn't think it would work, but it is . . .
Edward—my rotten husband—told Kylie that her grandfather now suffers from dementia.
Ed Sr. is just as wacky and outspoken as he's always been. As per Edward, his father ran out of steam around the same time Marcus died. It's hard to believe that my father-in-law used to be . . . like Edward and Carlisle once upon a time. You'd never know it by being around him these days.
Kylie has nothing going on besides Gio and the tanning salon, so now her eyes are open. She believes her father and has been keeping her eye on Pop-Pop. She's trying to prove just how responsible she is. Kylie makes sure he takes his vitamins, his medicine, and that he's sticking to a diet low in cholesterol.
My husband added that diet shit just to drive Ed nuts. He's old, but his ticker is still good, no cholesterol problems.
And all of that cuts deeply into the quality time Kylie spends with Gio.
But, regardless of being married, Maggie and Kylie are still very close. Sonny, despite the holidays, has had a full schedule. So, combined, they make up this mismatched, weirdo chain-gang as they've all helped—in one way or another—to move Sonny and Maggie into their new house: Ed Sr., Kylie, Maggie, and Gio, while Vito and Gino take turns bringing them places.
My husband truly is a genius. We don't have to worry about any of them. Grandpa fits right in, and he can legally buy them liquor.
Aro still feels like he owes our son something, so he's been helping them out as well. We all are, actually. With our family being huge, they didn't have to hire anyone to move from the apartment that's just five blocks away.
As of now, they're all moved in around the corner . . .
And we managed to fit that into celebrating Christmas, having various family dinners, attending Caius's memorial services, and getting sloppily drunk for New Year's . . .
I personally had a lot of time freed up once Elena and I stopped preparing for this huge wedding.
Yeah, Damion put the brakes on that since he doesn't know what he wants. They're barely speaking, yet they're attending couples' counseling.
My husband and I laughed when they first told us. We thought it was a joke. With as many relationships as we'd seen—had been privy to—people either make it as a couple or they don't.
I can't make heads or tails of either one of them. While Damion has taken to talking to his father, being very open and honest, he hasn't said a peep to me, and Edward says he's fine. Damion is doing well—first with the pregnancy, then with the miscarriage, which we weren't even sure about . . . Anyway, Damion is just very confused as am I.
I mean, what the fuck? You know?
I stopped crying about it—my son and his woes—in secret or in Edward's arms. Now, I realize that shit just isn't as serious as I once thought.
After all this time, I had to roll with the punches.
Plus, I still harbor immense rage in regards to Lauren and what she did. That's something I'll never get over, although I take some solace in the fact that she's dead.
Only, I wish I could have stomped on her head.
"What's wrong?"
"What?" I asked.
"You're grinding your teeth," Edward sighed, grasping my hand.
"I'm cold." I pulled the blanket over us. "Do you have a hangover?"
He pursed his lips. "Nope . . . I'm tired but okay."
"Same," I whispered, thankful I drank a lot of water last night. "What time did we leave Carlisle's?"
"At like three?" He snuggled up to my side.
"You wanna make coffee while I shower?" I smiled, kissing his cheek. "Please?"
He groaned, holding me tighter. "I thought we'd stay in bed…all day and all night."
"I have plans with Maggie later . . . and then we're all supposed to go there for their unofficial housewarming party."
Edward sucked his teeth. "Sonny will order a few pizzas, and we'll give 'em cash?"
"Basically." I bought them a china set, but my husband doesn't know that. Edward can also give them money. If he knows I got them something already, he won't give up any cash. And I'm just so excited for them, Sonny and Maggie, I want them to have everything they need and more. It's not like the Sullivans have given them anything, and I'm more than happy to make up for that.
"How much? Baby, Sonny's well off. He doesn't need my money. And that's something I'm very proud of." He nodded.
"Just give them a few grand—"
"We bought them that house," he laughed.
"It's the gesture. Don't be cheap and don't front. You got them the house because you and Luke had that shit going, who'd give how much to Dame and Amelia. Otherwise..."
"Regardless, that house was four million dollars, but I'm cheap...?" He bitched.
"Like that hurt your pockets?" I may not know my husband's official net worth—'cause most, if not all, is in cash—but I know . . . and I also know we don't spend nearly as much dough as we can. Well, we have no proof of where his income stems from, and so we can't be flashy and shit, cash transactions and all that are a must—the usual. I actually love the way things are. I wouldn't change a thing, and I want for nothing more than we already have.
"I guess we can't show up with nothin', though...Not that I give a fuck, but that'd be bad manners." He tickled my side and gasped. "We could bring the soda and the paper plates to go with the pizza?"
I laughed, getting into my Edward nook, nuzzling my nose into his neck. "Maggie needs to food shop, and so do I...We're meeting at four." Our kitchen was bare with all the extra people around; we hardly had anything. "Fuck. I hope there's coffee."
"There should be," he whispered, and it was like we were both stuck—drowsy, neither one of us wanting to leave the bed. "You wanna smoke?"
"No…We've been smoking a lot lately." Even last night. Along with the booze—Edward, Carlisle, Aro, Lisa, Alex, Sonny, Anthony, and I—we had a three blunt siph, weed circle, going in their backyard, a small puff-puff-pass party. Kylie and Li'l Ed kept poking their heads out the sliding door, and then we'd hide it behind our backs. We said we were having a family meeting. No kiddos allowed.
"Like you give a fuck." He snorted. "The kids are adults…no one cares. What's the harm?"
"Before coffee, though?" I sat up, getting a total head rush. "Fuck." I palmed my eyes.
Edward laughed. "I'll roll, you start the shower."
"I'll roll . . . you get too much spit on the paper." I winked.
Edward left the bed to get his stash out of his chest of drawers. "We'll finish the bag, and then…"
I nodded. "Sounds like a plan."
"I knew you were going to say that." He plopped the bag, the rolling paper, and a CD case onto the bed.
I got busy rolling while Edward took a piss. He continued to talk to me, but I could barely hear him. Then I heard the shower running and him turn on the fan.
My legs shook as I did the pee-pee dance, tiptoeing toward the bathroom. "Here." I handed it to him before I ran to the toilet. "Oh, man." My eyes started tearing.
"Guess you had to go." He turned off the shower. It was misty enough.
When I was finished going to the bathroom, I sat under the open window, taking the joint from Edward. "This is kinda fun."
Edward smiled. "It's a party week—the holidays." He placed the lighter in front of me.
I inhaled deeply, trying to keep it in and not cough my brains out. This shit was so good, fucking sticky, and it practically stuck to the wall. "Take it." I exhaled, passing it to Edward, and I was done.
All I wanted was to get my head right, relax—it would help me to chill on this semi-lazy day. Sometimes I get antsy, even if I'm exhausted. Especially after partying so hard last night. Weed helps the recovery.
After we finished smoking, we just sat there—neither one of us saying a word. It was peaceful, and my mind wandered. I thought of the conversations I'd had last night. "You need to talk to Sonny."
"About what?" he asked.
"About…not being lazy in the sack, that he can't just…you know?"
"What?" Edward thought that was funny. "I'm not saying shit to him. What happens between him and his wife, that's on them."
"But you always talk to Sonny about sex."
"We're men. We don't talk about sex—that's women shit. He used to brag; I'd listen. Since they got hitched, Sonny hasn't said a peep. Baggin' your old lady is different than scoring with some ho. You don't talk about it. It's disrespectful." Edward pulled on a cigarette and then held it out to me.
I declined.
"He wants to have a baby, though. Sonny told me." He faced me. "That's—he's got it in his head. And he's scared to talk to Maggie about it."
I laughed. "She's gotta be the easiest person in the world to talk to."
"Well, the worst she can say is no . . . He doesn't want her to hate him." He squeezed my thigh. "She's so young . . . She'll watch Kylie and Gio go to college, party and hang out, go on vacations, while she's stuck at home with an infant . . . Sound familiar?"
I shrugged. "I never regretted trying for Sonny, and then having him. I wanted a baby. She has to want one in order to not regret her decision." I nodded. "She's so young, though—younger than we were." I frowned. "Getting married is one thing. 'Cause they can grow together." I widened my arms. "Grow as people and share their love."
"I told Sonny that. He feels guilty—having that want. It's not like...they're jobless teens still living at home. Maggie's young...I wouldn't want that for Kylie, like if Maggie were my daughter." He held his chest. "But Sonny would do right, wouldn't saddle her with shit. He'd be right there, hire a nanny, a housekeeper. She could still go to school. He'd do the right thing. So, me, I'm torn...doesn't matter how I feel, though." I couldn't believe he spoke that much about the subject. And he made some very valid points, too. "Again, that's between them."
"Yeah, but you need to tell your son that he'll flunk out of marriage if he doesn't pass the oral." I smiled.
"Word," Edward agreed. "You tryin'a tell me somethin', too? 'Cause I eat your pussy right. Trust. I know."
I giggled. "Yeah, I remember Thanksgiving fondly."
"It hasn't been that long."
"It has."
"No."
"Yes," I said.
"Wow…" He put the cigarette out in the ashtray. "Sounds like I owe you some tongue." He kissed my cheek.
I grinned, nestling into his side. "Don't worry about it. I can't remember the last time I sucked your dick."
"Last week...Wednesday."
"Really?" Now I couldn't believe that. I thought it was longer. "Cool."
"Sonny and Maggie are happy. As much as they do fuck, my God," Edward laughed. "He may not talk about it, but the boy's always a mess, always looks like he just got done hittin' it. Remember when we first got married? All the fucking. That was before we decided to get you pregnant, too." He poked my side. "You can't even get the kid on the phone. He was hardly working. Well, I put a stop to that shit. The honeymoon's over. He owes me, so . . . that's why he's so crazy busy now."
"Owes you what? And, yes. He has been busy these past two weeks. That's probably why Maggie was saying that." I hit my forehead. "He hasn't been around, so she feels a loss, like he's losing interest." I frowned, remembering exactly what that was like.
Especially, I can recall how miserable I was because I didn't know what Edward was doing. I didn't know anything about his work, just that he wasn't around. Hell, even now, some weeks Edward is busier than others, and I rarely see him. These days, I understand since I know what it's like, what it's like to be married to a connected guy—keeping the weird and ungodly hours, the sudden disappearing acts, the secrets.
"Losing interest." He spat. "That's bullshit. We get busy; he's got shit to do."
"What does he owe you?" I asked.
"Don't worry about it," he said.
"Keeping secrets from me again?" I raised a brow. "'Cause that always works out so well for you."
"Gimme two months…When shit quiets down, I'll tell you—tell you everything and anything you wanna know." He bit my nose. "Hmm. Love that thing." He bit it again. "Tasty."
I giggled. "Okay."
"You're really getting close to Maggie, huh?"
I smiled. "Kylie and Maggie are my homegirls."
"You're so fucking cute." He crashed his lips to mine, landing a loud smooch on me. "I only ask because Sonny digs the shit you tell her. He appreciates it."
"And why couldn't Sonny tell me that himself?"
"He's busy," Edward sighed. "He's running two crews, going between the Twilight club and Eclipse. All of which is why . . . I have my father chillin' with Kylie, too. Having Kylie and Maggie together, it helps Sonny out. No matter what he owes me, I don't want him going through the same problems we had in the beginning—you getting bored and getting on my ass. It's inevitable, though. I foresee problems in their immediate future, no matter what you tell her. They'll get through it like we did, I think."
I furrowed my brow. "He's taking care of Caius's business?"
He nodded solemnly.
"He…Caius?" My heart sank, although I didn't give a fuck about Caius. "You said—"
"This is exactly why I didn't want to discuss it—you wearing this face if the Feds asked you something." He palmed my cheeks.
I waved away from myself. "It's out of my head." It didn't matter what I said, I still felt uneasy about that. "Maggie's fine, Sonny's fine—they're all fine. Damion was really quiet last night."
"Can you blame him? We were at Carlisle's. It was commendable, Dame even showing up. You know?"
I nodded. "I know. Wish he stayed longer, though. All he did was come back and sleep, didn't he?"
Edward sighed. "He's doing what's good for him. He's focused on school, and there's this chick—" He groaned, covering his face.
"What chick?" I asked.
"Can we rewind to five minutes ago? Back to before I said that?" Edward grinned, being all toothy and cute.
"No." I deadpanned.
He relit the joint and handed it to me after taking a long hit—stalling.
I grumbled under my breath, taking a few pulls. "You don't need to get me high. As long as he's happy . . ." There wasn't a bone in my body that wanted Damion to marry Amelia anymore. With them getting together, she changed so much I don't recognize her. She wasn't the person I thought she was, which could have been some ploy. "I want Damion happy. Maybe we didn't push him toward Amelia—"
"Come on. Be real. We fucking shoved him in her direction—the offhanded comments, offering them money. I'm just as guilty—if not the culprit. He was upset about Julie, vulnerable, going through some shit, and the last thing he needed was to dive head first into shit with Amelia." He shook his head. "Plus that other shit we didn't know at the time. We're to blame, too . . . But I really saw us in them. Does that make sense? I thought they could make it. Dammit." He ranted.
"I know," I agreed. "They were so in love, or seemed to be…He met someone else?"
"Yeah." Edward rasped. "He called it a one-night stand, but…" he laughed. "He keeps talking about it. I don't know if he's proud, or what. He said he's known that chick for months—Jordan."
"Jordan." I grinned. "She's a nice girl."
"You know her?" he sounded surprised.
"I met her once," I said. "I was in the neighborhood last month. Damion was on call, and I brought him dinner from La Bella Italia. He introduced me as Bella, so . . . he wasn't getting into 'That's my mom' or whatever. We talked while they shared the ziti I brought. They seemed close, but like working relationship, see each other every day close. I wouldn't think her his type, but I remember thinking them sharing food was adorable...innocent."
"She a knockout?"
I nodded. "She's attractive—pretty."
"The kid had stars in his eyes . . . But is this the only way to get him out of a funk? A series of rebounds?"
"I don't know," I whispered. "Overall, he seems better, happier, although Amelia has him confused. I won't lie and say I approve of him cheating…"
"Of course, you can't. But Dame needs to figure shit out on his own. At least with this Jordan he'll focus more on school."
"True. They could be each other's anchors if need be—if there's love there."
"I wouldn't go that far. I think Dame's just testing the waters." He chuckled.
"You're proud of him."
He shrugged. "I don't condone cheating, but fuck it. Yeah, I'm happy Dame's healing himself, doing what makes himself happy in a positive way."
"How is cheating positive?" I laughed.
"It made him happy."
I shut my mouth as I thought about that.
"Yo!"
I jumped, nearly out of my skin when I heard Ed Sr. at the door.
"What?" Edward shouted back.
"Open up."
"No!" Edward looked to me, and I smiled.
"I can smell it," Ed Sr. said.
I pulled my unkempt dress down, trying to cover my knees, as Edward opened the door. "Here…take the rest. Go in the backyard."
"What am I? A dog?" My father-in-law entered to sit on the toilet. "Your daughter's driving me nuts."
Edward laughed, plopping down next to me again. "Cover yourself." He placed a towel on my legs.
I rolled my eyes.
Ed Sr. stared down at us. "This reefer is great." He pulled from the roach. "You got tweezers?"
I snorted, turning to rest my head on Edward's shoulder. This was weird—odd. It wasn't because of the weed. It was just…all three of us just chillin' in a bathroom.
"Mom?" Kylie knocked.
"Fuck," I whispered, my heart stalling for a minute. "Yeah, baby?" I wondered if I sounded normal, or high out of my skull, and I was likely in between.
"I can't find Grandpa."
Ed Sr. started doing hand signals, trying to silently indicate that he wasn't in here.
"Maybe he wandered off." Edward almost lost his shit, bending over in hysterics.
"Daddy…? Oh, are you guys . . .? Um."
Now I was laughing since she assumed we were fucking.
"So, you can't find your grandfather." Edward kept talking, trying not to laugh. "You're an adult. How would you handle it?"
I held my stomach and tried not to drool on myself. "Stop." I pushed my husband.
"Um…I should call Vito, and then we can drive around the neighborhood? I saw on this show…Grandpa might not remember where we live."
"Why wouldn't I?" Ed Sr. whispered.
"What?" Kylie asked.
"Good idea, baby. We'll be out in a minute." Edward kissed my cheek.
When we heard Kylie close our bedroom door, all three of us busted out laughing. "Why would you do that to her?" I asked.
Edward shrugged. "She's not calling Vito. She'll call Maggie and Gio first…so they can help. It'll keep them busy, out of trouble."
"Why is she following me?" Ed asked, staring down to us. "Don't get me wrong. I love my Kylie, but hanging out with these kids . . . It's not my thing. They're up my ass. And you'll be proud to know that they're fucking goody-goodies—no fun at all—nothing like you and your brother as kids. I haven't even been to Eclipse yet since I've been back…your daughter tries to tuck me in at nine p.m. for fuck's sake!" Ed Sr. ranted, standing to drop the roach into the toilet.
"She cares about you," Edward said.
My father-in-law stared down at me. "You look horrible."
"Whoa…" Edward hugged me into his side, but I found that comment funny. "What kind of shit is that to say?"
"She needs rest."
"Go…sneak out before I sic Kylie on you." Edward pointed to the door.
My father-in-law smiled down to us. "I think I'll go stay with Carlisle. At least he appreciates his father—"
"Fuck that . . . but do what you want." My husband nodded.
Ed Sr. looked to me, like I'd rebut what he'd said.
"I'm sure the twins will love to have Pop-Pop around." I grinned, 'cause Carlisle's place is a mad house on the reg.
"Shit." He dropped onto the closed lid of the toilet. "Whatever." He stood up, albeit slowly, and then left the bathroom.
When he was gone, I turned to my husband. "I look horrible?"
He wiped under my eyes with his thumbs. "You still have makeup all over." His thumbs were black.
"Ugh!" It came out squeaky as I scrambled to my feet. Looking into the mirror, I saw my sad reflection. It straightened my head, cleared it of the fog for a brief moment. I had mascara all over my eyes. I resembled a raccoon, and my hair was messy and knotted. "You fucked me while I looked like this?" I pointed to my face.
My husband was too busy playing with the bathmat.
"Edward!" I stomped my foot.
"What? You're beautiful. Shut the fuck up."
I kicked at him. "You shut up."
He did; he didn't say another word.
"Edward…?" I asked.
He shook his head. "What'd you say?"
"Nothing." I slumped my shoulders. "Go make coffee. I'm showering." I stared in the mirror again, and then took a rag to wipe my eyes.
Turning for the shower, Edward looked way too comfortable on the floor...just sitting there. "We've turned into stoners. I don't even recognize you anymore."
"What?" He blinked but then waved a hand. "I'm still me."
I shook my head, because he seriously wasn't. "You're not as aggressive. You're…" I grabbed our stash and threw it into the toilet. "Now we're done. No more."
"What'd you do that for? It's pot. It's legal in how many fucking states? It's not coke or fucking dope. What the hell? You act like we're skeeve junkies." He stared into the bowl, watching it float.
I shrugged. "I'm just so . . ."
"Look," Edward got to his feet to palm my cheeks, "you're stressed. And as much as you tell yourself you're not, you are. I know that helps you." He gestured to the soaked pot. "So, I do it with you . . . It's better than you intruding on everyone, being nosy, and trying to fix shit that . . . Well, I mean, the shit you're worried about is out of our hands." He nodded. "All you can do is hope for the best."
"You're right." I grumbled, hating that he was.
"Blow off Maggie, and we'll relax. All day, just you, me, and we'll watch movies. You know I'm trying to stay low-key." It was because of Caius. The Feds are sniffing around that shit. Yet, his body was released, and his daughter was able to bury him. No one saw anything, and they had no evidence. But we both knew it was only a matter of time until Edward was called in for questioning.
And Sonny was involved somehow . . .
"Sonny's going to be okay? No one saw anything. They have no evidence—"
"Shhhh." He kissed me softly. "I'd cop to it before they did anything to Sonny."
"Double-edged sword." Tears pricked my eyes.
"We'll be okay. I promise."
"Okay. I'm glad." I flushed the toilet. "What if they search the house?"
"I haven't heard anything."
"Oh…" I lifted my hair, turning my back to him. "Unzip me."
Edward groaned, pulling me against his chest. "Bella, I fucking love you. So much, baby. You're gorgeous, beautiful, you have the best heart of any person I've ever known. I'm so happy we met...'cause without you I'd have nothing. Fuck money. I don't care about nothing, except you, the kids. But you, baby..." He hummed, kissing down my neck. "I love you so much that—"
I turned in his arms. "Is something wrong? They know something. Why are you saying these things?" I was paranoid as fuck, more so because of the weed.
"No…I'm just saying." He turned me roughly to undo my zipper. "There…enjoy your shower."
"I love you, too." I hoped the warm water would calm my nerves.
He blew me a kiss. "Yeah, I know." He left the bathroom.
/=/=/=/=/
Damion
/=/=/=/=/
After rounds, I worked in the emergency room alongside Jordan for a bit. We cared for this dude who more than likely had pneumonia. He had rales in both lungs, sounding junkie. We sent him for an x-ray, while Jordan pushed to have every blood test under the sun done.
We argued about that. One of the first things a resident ever told me was, "If you hear hoof beats, think horses not zebras", but then there's always that one that passes you by—you miss something simple, or something complicated because you thought it was simple.
Other than that one dude, we treated colds, flus—ailments that neither needed a doctor or an emergency room. Then there were a few we called surgical consults for. At five p.m. our shift was over. I was fast to leave, but Jordan said she had a few more things to do.
I didn't bother to say goodbye and left, walking back to the dorms. After partying with my family last night—where I had a couple drinks—and then working a fourteen-hour shift, I was exhausted.
Overall, though, I was content—tired, but happy nonetheless. Things were coming to a close between Amelia and me, and I actually felt good about that. Counseling hasn't done us any good. We both talk—we both express ourselves and get our points across without it turning into a shouting match.
But the love . . .
That feeling I'd get whenever she was near, was gone.
I couldn't even fake it.
She was doing better, too, I think. Amelia's as clingy as she ever was, bending over backwards as she tries to please me. I asked her not to. I asked her to take a step back, and that's the only thing she can't seem to comprehend.
The whole thing was incredibly sad. We were hot and fucking heavy as hell, and now?
I shut my brain off as soon as I entered my room.
After making sure my alarm clock was set, just in case I slept right through 'til morning, I closed my eyes—welcoming sleep.
"Damion…" Amelia was here. "Wake up, baby." She kissed my cheek.
I turned over to groan. "What time is it?" And I definitely needed to get my key back.
"Ten after six."
I blinked, confused, as it seems I only fell out for twenty minutes. Meanwhile, that shit felt like fifteen hours. "Six in the morning?"
"No," she giggled, snuggling up to me. "It's still Thursday."
"Oh." I nodded, closing my eyes. "I'm beat. If you wanna sleep…" I grabbed my blanket.
"We have a seven o'clock appointment with Dr. Stein."
"It's New Year's Day."
"So?" she asked. "I knew things were slow for you, so I signed us up twice this week. He said he'd make time…to accommodate you. He's knows how grueling med school can be. He is a doctor."
"It's New Year's Day." I repeated myself.
"Doesn't matter. He's working with us. You know?" She squeezed my hand.
I scoffed. "To drive out to Jersey..."
"Then we have to come back. That get-together at your brother's new house is tonight. I can't wait to see it."
"I didn't plan on going," I said. "I've seen it, and I'm going—meeting Sonny for lunch tomorrow." I yawned.
"No, we should stick to our original plans. Remember? You're supposed to try and…take my feelings into consideration? And this is important to me."
"Going to Sonny's is important?" I asked. "You hate Maggie. It's hypocritical of you to sit there, smile, and—"
"No, counseling. Us mapping shit out and reconnecting."
"Right," I whispered, opening my eyes and facing her. She was as beautiful as she always is. Her scent was that delicious perfume. "Listen…I don't think it's helping us."
She frowned. "I think it has. I think if we keep seeing him…"
"No," I said.
"It can't be over. We have to keep trying." She started crying. "Damion, I love you."
"Please, don't." I cringed, stiffening. "You're just in denial. Can you honestly say you feel the same? The same as you did last month?" I sat up to wipe her tears away. "We tried. I fucked up, and you…"
Even with a PhD helping us with our problems, she's yet to open up about the pregnancy. That issue was never laid out on the table.
"We haven't had sex in…a while," I said, remembering that disastrous snowy afternoon in that hotel room. That was over a month ago.
"It's not like I haven't tried." She sniffled. "You—it's you." And I'm not an animal. The resentment I had kept me from having sex, making love to her. "Maybe you need therapy on your own, or medication. You know? If you can't get hard—"
"That's not the problem. My cock is fine." I rushed out. "We're not the same. Things have changed—we've both changed." And I didn't know how to sell this any more than I already had.
"You changed a lot. You don't get angry, you don't smile, you don't...you can't even fuck me," Amelia sighed. "You're going through something, and I'll be here . . . patient until you get back to normal. We're so good together. We just need more time to actually be together. Maybe we should save this talk for Dr. Stein? Maybe he can help with...your problem." She stared at my crotch.
"No…and there's nothing wrong with my dick." I was exasperated. "Don't you think it's fucked that we need a counselor, when we've technically only been together...like five months?"
She wrung her hands together. "We moved fast, Damion. This whole time…it's felt as though we've been on this moving train—it never stops, and I don't want it to. Once we're married, things will slow down."
I groaned, stepping into my sneakers. "I need a smoke . . . and you're still not listening to a thing I say."
"My parents think it's a good thing—what we're doing. What does your mom say?"
I raised a brow, grabbing my jacket. "You haven't spoken to her yourself?"
She looked down. "Your mother's not exactly easy to talk to these days. I'm supposed to hold the grudge against her." She snorted. "She betrayed my trust, yet she says she can't trust me."
I shrugged, pursing my lips. "Until you come clean—tell the truth about your pregnancy, I have to have my mother's back on this."
"That's none of her business."
"Right…but in her eyes, you tried to trap her son." It felt good to say that. "I understand being desperate. I understand you trying to make your father happy—wanting to merge our families. What I don't understand . . . Baby, I know I was a dick." I sat next to her. "I was angry with you, and I needed time. Then somewhere between me being in the hospital, Thanksgiving—whatever—you got pregnant?" I asked. "There are a lot of holes in your story. You know? All I'm asking is for you to fill in the blanks." I wasn't even sure if my rambled words made any sense. "When I saw you again . . . all I could think about was us getting back to normal. Then you tell me you're knocked up. I'm sorry, but…your pregnancy, me thinking you were dishonest…and right after you betrayed my trust, telling my mother that shit, that's when I started having doubts, pulling away from you, and as soon as I pulled away, you became this lunatic. Without the pregnancy, the one you worked so hard for, we'd still be planning a wedding."
"I know that now," she whispered. "If we spoke about it...Do you think we could move past it?"
"It's possible. I don't know." I groaned, frustrated. "Not knowing is eating at me, thinking you were dishonest fucking killed me. I see...saw it as betrayal since—up until that point—we were honest with no secrets. Then, for you to get pregnant after I specifically, after I expressed how I didn't want kids, especially not now..." I tried thinking, voicing my feelings, which was the advice the shrink had given me. "But then mistakes happen...I just don't think it was a mistake. You planned it. I feel in my heart that you planned it, banked on getting knocked up."
"It wasn't—" she cried.
"Talk to me," I whispered. "Whatever it is."
"It wasn't planned in the way you think. I was just never on the pill."
"What?" I leaned into her to hear her correctly. "I saw them…They were always in your makeup bag."
She shook her head. "Whenever I'd take them in front of you, I'd pop a placebo into my mouth," she sobbed. "I had them from when I was with my ex . . . being single so long, I stopped taking them. Then, when I met you . . . There was all this pressure from my dad. And I like, I fell in love with you—that first night. You taking charge, pointing that nine...the sex that followed. You stole my heart. But then I got scared . . . Halloween was when things changed. You lost interest, some interest. You became obsessed with your brother's wife. Maybe not obsessed, but...you spiraled out of control. Yet, even that version of you, that's closer to the man I fell in love with...than this version of you, who's...it's like you died in some way." She grasped my hand. "My feelings are real . . . I just—I'm sorry. My father said he'd give us three million—"
"For money and to please your father?" It should have felt like a low blow, but it didn't. Whenever or how she got pregnant wasn't truly an issue anymore. She miscarried. We haven't been together intimately since, and we had no more ties to each other.
"I'm sorry." She palmed her face. "But I wanted it—I wanted your baby. I wanted you so badly—for you to be mine." She threw herself at me. "I love you so much."
"Shhhh." I rubbed her back. "It's okay."
"It's not." She sucked in a shaky breath. "It's not okay."
I nodded, burying my nose into her hair.
"It was going to be simple. We'd be together, we'd have a baby . . . You know? I'd have you."
I leaned back to look into her eyes. "Amelia…"
"I know." She nodded. "We're—we're over."
"I'm sorry." I didn't want to fight or talk this out. All I hoped was that she'd understand.
"Can we keep in touch? We might, you know . . . Can we—can we be friends?"
"Of course," I lied. "We both fucked up."
"You didn't do anything."
"I did." I wiped under her nose with my thumb. "Is Pietro outside?"
"Yeah." She wrapped her arms around my neck again. "Think it over. Please. I still love you—I'll always want you. Please, please, please."
"You're better than that—to beg." Her pleas kind of broke my heart, but I knew we were doing the right thing.
"What if we continued with counseling?"
I shook my head. "We both know, Amelia. I don't know if I could ever trust you again. I'm sure you have doubts, too."
"I don't," she cried.
"We both need time to think, be by ourselves for a bit."
"You're right." She left my bed. "I have to leave, or else I'll beg, break down." Her face crumbled.
"Wait…are you going to be okay?"
She turned away, refusing to look at me. "I want to hate you."
"If it'll make you feel better . . ." I trailed off.
"I'm sure you hate me."
"I don't." I think I wasn't as shocked by her admission because I'd suspected something all along. Plus, while she was out of sight, after Thanksgiving and up until now, I'd been sorting things out in my head—coping, getting ready for the inevitable.
"Walk me out?"
"Of course." I felt like I could breathe again as I followed her into the hall.
The Band-Aid was pulled off. I finally got somewhere with Amelia, ending things. Deep down, I wasn't sure if I should have felt badly for her—her heartache—but I don't think I cared, not anymore.
Amelia had composed herself by the time we got outside. Walking down the steps, I was surprised to see Jordan. She was running toward the building, fumbling with the books and papers she had in her hands. She hadn't seen us yet when she dropped most of it onto the ground.
"Isn't that your friend? What's she doing here?" Amelia asked.
I shrugged, barely looking at Jordan. "She lives here—fifth floor."
"How do you know?"
I rolled my eyes. "I've seen her around, and we do work together . . . You okay?" I asked Jordan.
She had a beaming smile, gathering everything into her arms. "I diagnosed Mr. Smith, so Dr. Ralph said I could assist in the bronchoscopy. I gotta read up on it. They're doing it first thing in the morning." She ran right on past us into the building.
I chuckled, watching her go.
"What's funny?"
I shook my head. "She's nuts—that's all."
"Oh…" Amelia kept staring at the building. "You laughed."
"So...? It's funny when people drop shit?"
"I always thought Jordan was a guy. Why would you lie about that?"
"Because of this." I gestured to her. "And I never lied. You assumed. I'm not fighting, nor am I talking about this with you. She's a colleague. End of story."
She put her palms up. "You're right. We're—we're over." Her face fell, crumbled as she turned from me.
"Amelia…"
"Just…" She shrugged, tears falling down her cheeks. "Have a nice life."
I waved at a loss.
Amelia entered the car, and Pietro shot me a glare as he closed her door.
"Take care," I told him.
He ignored me, getting in and starting the car.
When they pulled away, I reentered the building. I should have gone back to sleep, or gone to get something to eat. Even if I was emotionally numb, I was still tired and hungry. But I didn't take care of any of my immediate needs, going up to the fifth floor instead.
Jordan's room was three doors away from the elevator, and her door was wide open. "Hey." I knocked twice.
She hardly tore her eyes away from the book she was reading. "What's up?"
"Nothing." I walked in and sat on her bed. "I did it . . . we broke up for real."
"That's nice." She wasn't paying attention to me.
I reached over and closed the book.
"What'd you do that for?" she asked.
My words were stuck, caught in my throat as I leaned toward her. She looked cute with her messy hair, and there was some ink—just a little—under her bottom lip.
"Cullen…" She turned her head.
"What?" I grasped her chin, turning her to face me. "Can we hang out tonight?"
"I don't know. I have reading to do."
"Bronchoscopies take like fifteen minutes at best," I said. "You're not going to see or do much."
"I know, but…" She blew out a breath, finally looking at me. She says I paralyze her with my eyes, and she always tries her best not to meet my gaze. "You guys broke up? Are you okay? You didn't tell her about what we did, right? 'Cause it meant nothing. There was no need to hurt her."
"I didn't. We had a lot of problems, none of them stemming from infidelity."
"Oh…" She opened the book.
For over two weeks now, since that night, nothing's really changed in Jordan and my relationship. That day, the morning after, we worked together like we'd always done. I've thought about her a lot, wanting to fuck her again, sneak away and go to a closet somewhere around the hospital. But I never voiced that or made a move. Because I was still technically in a relationship. Why I felt no remorse on Amelia's part is beyond me; however, I didn't think Jordan would take me seriously if I was still with someone else.
Now I was free . . .
Now I was horny as fuck.
There's nothing wrong with my cock.
"You can talk." She continued to read. "I'll listen."
I chuckled, content to just sit here. "Lean back."
"Oh, no. Massage, my ass," she giggled. "Go, get away."
I smiled, grabbing her foot. "Just relax. I'll be on my best behavior."
"Us having sex again won't mend your broken heart."
"It's not broken." I was honest. "Maybe I'm just horny."
"Ouch. You didn't get any goodbye sex?"
"Nope. Didn't want any." I squeezed her heel, making her sigh and fall back. "What'd you do? Did you go out last night?"
"No, I had reading to do. I was asleep before the ball dropped."
I nodded, wishing I'd done the same. "I was with my family…It was boring."
There was no way I could voice just how uncomfortable I was being at Carlisle's house. I mostly stayed with my parents, sipping my wine, and smiling while we'd all talk. It was nice . . . to an extent. I left when they all went outside to get high. It provided me with the perfect opportunity to sneak away. Li'l Ed, Maggie, Gio, and Kylie, who were drunk from sharing a bottle of champagne, knew what the "adults" were doing outside, thought it wasn't my thing. But playing board games with them didn't interest me either. Grandpa had fallen asleep on a recliner. I just wasn't in a festive mood, wanted sleep. Unlike my grandfather, I don't nod out like a heroin addict after a meal; I can't just sleep anywhere.
"When you're done, did you want to go out to dinner?"
"I'm sorry." She took her feet back. "I don't think that's such a good idea."
"Why?" I asked.
"Because . . . I don't want to be your rebound, and I definitely don't want to be . . . Look, it just wouldn't be a good idea." She nodded, reaching up to pull her hair out of the clip.
I took it from her, combing her ponytail with my fingers. "I just want to be your friend." I pulled it back up, fixing it for her.
"Thank you," she whispered.
I touched her neck with my nose, inhaling her sweet scent. "You're welcome." I kissed that spot, hugging her close to me as my lips moved closer to her mouth.
Jordan had her eyes closed. "Don't do this. I don't have time to-to—I can't. We can't."
I nodded, placing my lips to hers, my stomach a butterfly-filled mess. To my surprise, she deepened the kiss to moan into my mouth. Before long, she'd straddled my lap, pushing me back.
"Fuck, yeah." Overexcited, I grasped the hem of her scrub top, bringing it up and over her head.
"Ugh." She groaned, covering her face. "We can't do this." She hopped off of me, grabbing her shirt. "You should go."
I was still breathing heavily, leaning up on my elbows, and I didn't know what to say. "Now you're breaking my heart." I smirked.
She tossed a roll of Scotch Tape at me. "That'll help keep it together."
"Right," I laughed, rising from the bed. "Well, I'll be in my room. If you wanna come down and chill . . . you're welcome to."
She grinned, taking my hand. "You're a good guy, Cullen. It has nothing to do with that. It'd only be a matter of time before . . . You know, that line got crossed, and I don't have time to be with someone, or get my own heart broken."
"I understand," I said. "Self-preservation and all that."
She nodded, a frown marring her usually jovial face.
"My offer still stands. You get bored, come get me, and we'll go get some food...just friends," I said. "We both gotta eat, right?" I finally caught her gaze with my own. "Just come hang out with me." I tried to see if I could smudge that ink off her chin.
She cleared her throat, stepping back and looking away. "Um. What?"
"Dinner."
She nodded. "That's sounds awesome . . . How 'bout eight o'clock? Just let me finish this chapter." She looked to her book.
"Knock hard," I laughed. "I'll be crashing for that hour."
She lifted a hand, keeping it raised as I left her room.
Going down to my own room, I felt kind of stupid. Did I want to continue or for anything to develop between Jordan and me? I wasn't sure. But I was truthful . . . I was horny, and since our dynamic was fine after the last time . . .
Face down on my bed, I managed to fall right back to sleep. This time, I woke up with a slight headache as Jordan knocked. It was actually close to 9:30. She was late.
"Hey." I yawned, going back to bed after letting her in.
She looked good, cleaned up and dressed in those tight, painted-on jeans. Her hair was still up, but she wore makeup. "How was your nap?"
"Good." I yawned again, couldn't help it.
Jordan sat opposite me, on Ethan's bed. "I'm exhausted. Did you want to just order a pizza?"
"You got dressed up just for us to order pizza?" I laughed, leaning up to look at her. "Lemme clean up, take you out. I know a good place. It's classy, an Italian joint."
"Pizza's fine. I did this for you." She shrugged, rolling her eyes. "I'm a mess every day, and…" She was unsure; I could tell.
"You have a lot of natural beauty . . . You don't need to paint your face, or..." I stopped myself from commenting on those jeans. I loved seeing her in them.
"Thank you." She smiled.
"Come here." I extended my hand.
She took it, and I pulled her into bed with me. Jordan laughed, easing down and getting comfortable. "Do friends snuggle?"
"Sometimes," I sighed. "Ten minutes, and then we'll get food."
"Okay." She pulled the blanket up over us both before coming back down into my arms. "Do you think I'll get to do anything tomorrow or just hold the scope?"
"Probably hold the scope." I buried my face into her hair, loving the scent. "What kind of shampoo do you use?"
"Dollar store stuff."
"It's nice," I commented, a peaceful feeling encompassing me, about to pass out again. She was soft, warm, and in my arms...in my bed. I finally had Jordan in my bed again. "Do you . . . my family's having this small thing at my brother's house?" I winced, fully awake now, alive with a nervous excitement. And after feeling nothing for so long, it felt refreshing, except for the word vomit. "It's no big deal . . . I was supposed to go if I could. Most of them probably left already."
"What?" She sat up, leaving the embrace. "Meet your family?" Jordan grimaced and shook her head. "I mean, what?"
"Oh . . . It wouldn't be like that. I don't know." It sort of flew out of my mouth. "It was just an idea."
"You can go. I won't be offended."
"No." I pulled her back down, cringing inside because I didn't know anymore—didn't know about anything. That was when I realized I was just falling into a familiar pattern. I hopped into it with Amelia when Julie and I broke up, and now I was trying to do the same with Jordan—a fool trying to rush in—even if I didn't know how I felt about her yet, even if—deep down—I still had no clue as to how relationships, or being friends with benefits worked. All I knew was that I wanted to know her in a personal capacity and fuck her again.
"Damion?"
I jumped, startled when I heard Amelia. "What the fuck?" I asked myself, hopping over Jordan and leaving the bed. "Get into the closet."
Jordan stared at me like I was crazy.
"Please," I begged, and I heard Amelia using her key on the door. All hell would break loose if Amelia saw Jordan, and Jordan was an innocent—didn't deserve the shitstorm that'd rain down—although Jordan might be able to kick Amelia's scrawny ass . . . 'Cause I knew Amelia would start swinging and ask questions later.
Jordan swallowed loudly, opening the closet door.
"You have the deadbolt on?" Amelia asked, having trouble opening the door, which was a godsend.
"You double locked it?" I whispered, staring down at Jordan.
She smiled for the briefest of seconds. "What's going on? I thought you guys broke up."
"We did." I pulled her into my arms and kissed her again—one of those crazy kisses that makes me forget my name—just so she'd know . . . know something. "Just stay in here," I said against her lips. "Please. I'll explain everything."
She nodded, huffing a breath, but then she grabbed my t-shirt, giving me another smooch.
After closing one door, I paused, trying to wipe the smirk off my face before I went for the other—undoing the lock no one has a key for. "What's up?"
"Were you sleeping?" Amelia asked.
I nodded. "Can I have my key back?"
She ignored that, entering the room and looking around. "We got all the way back to Jersey before I remembered the party at Sonny's new house. Counseling's out, but...are we going to Sonny's? I thought we'd stop by after our appointment, but..."
"Um…" I pushed my hair back. "I didn't plan on it—wanted to catch up on sleep. But you should go . . . you know? If you wanna go chill, then...There's no rule that says you can't still be close to my family." Meanwhile, I knew that once my family knew our relationship was over, they wouldn't care to see her anymore.
"Without you?" Her lip quivered. "I thought we'd tell our parents together, that it wasn't going to work out. I can't—I'm scared to tell my dad."
"Shhh." I patted her back. "You don't gotta tell them shit. But your parents are going to Sonny's?" It hardly made sense as it was supposed to be a small get-together.
"I don't know...I mentioned the party, my mom called your mom." In other words, the Drasso's invited themselves.
"Oh," I said.
She sat on my bed. "Can I stay over?"
I shook my head. "I just wanted to be alone, gather my thoughts and shit."
She quietly sobbed into her hands. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be."
"And I'm coming over here like a lunatic!" she shouted, standing up. "I was sad before but now I'm just angry!" She was screaming at me now. "You did this—you made me this way! Drove me crazy—with your indifference, how shit went down. I was never, ever like this. I mean, I love you so much." She held her heart, walking toward me. "I made a mistake, but you did too. We both messed up, like you said, and we can move past it. I know we can."
I backed up.
"Can't you understand? You made me love you . . . and you don't even care about anything. The old Damion wouldn't have let me leave before. You would have fucked my brains out—made me stay. You'd never let me go. You'd never let me leave you—good, bad, or indifferent. You had such a passion, a fire inside. I know if you went to therapy on your own, battled this...numbness, you'd get better."
"We've been done for over a month," I said. "I got used to the idea of being single again. Okay? You can't put this all on me with all the lies you spewed. Give me a break." I was trying hard not to lose my temper; I wasn't that numb. "And I'm done fighting with you. We tried, we tried to make it work, and it's not working." I grabbed her arm, ushering her over to the door.
Because I was now the coldest prick alive.
"Stop!" she pushed me. "Do you still love me? There's gotta be a way we can make this work."
"Not anymore," I whispered. "Once upon a time, maybe if you were straight with me from the beginning?"
"Damion…"
"I can't do this anymore." I kissed her cheek. "Go home, soul search, do whatever."
She slapped my cheek. "You insensitive, motherfucking prick! I hate you!"
I groaned into my hand, reaching for the doorknob with the other. "Get home safe." I closed the door, slamming it with my ass, rapidly locking it while she beat it with her fists.
That was when Jordan left the closet, wide-eyed and scared-looking.
I placed my finger to my lips, but she didn't say anything. She just sat on Ethan's bed, and I knew whatever shot I had to be with Jordan was gone—flew out the door along with Amelia.
After a few minutes, Amelia stopped making a scene and fighting my door. She left. As soon as she did, I ran to the window to watch her enter Pietro's car.
That was when I breathed a sigh of relief. "She's gone."
"She's sounds crazy," Jordan said.
I stared at her, deciding to go with that. "You have no idea."
Jordan nodded. "Not to get on your case after that bullshit. But you can't just kiss me like that." Her cheeks flushed crimson.
"Did you get butterflies?" I asked out of curiosity and because I did. "When I kissed you, did you get butterflies?"
"What does that matter?" She walked toward the door.
"'Cause it does," I whispered. "The sexual tension, just working with you, being around you . . . and then when we kiss. It's nice. It was like that before that night. I just couldn't see it, was too wrapped up in other things."
"You're a great guy, and you're hot—like drop-dead gorgeous. I just don't have room in my life for you—what being with you might entail?" She fidgeted from foot to foot. "Nothing can get between me and earning my MD."
"We've been friends for months. Even if we're just starting to get closer, you know me already."
"One has nothing to do with the other," she giggled, sounding nervous.
"I just—I like you, Jordan." I felt completely juvenile saying that. "Maybe that night didn't mean anything to you…" I waited for her to tell me I was wrong, that it meant something to her. "Okay." I think I got the picture.
"Isn't it obvious?" She tilted her head, staring at me. "I keep coming back, don't I? I keep trying to ignore you, but I can't."
I smiled, nodding my head and sucking in a shaky breath. "How 'bout that pizza?"
She walked toward me and poked my chest. "You're irresistible. Don't do this to me."
"You want me," I said.
"Shut up." She slapped my chest.
"Oww." I was faking being hurt.
"I could fall for you." She kept her tone hushed.
"Would that be the worst thing to ever happen in the history of the world?" I teased, widening my arms.
"It's a scary thought. I have a goal . . . quite a few, and next year I'll have to decide where I'm doing my residency, and I don't want to change my plans because of some guy. I don't want to change at all. I need to stay focused."
"I'd never want you to change. And residency...that's next year." I hugged her back to me. "All I'm saying is we stay friends, see where things go, have fun—nothing heavy, no exclusivity." For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why I wanted to continue this. Or, why I didn't want to play the field. I've never done that, never felt the need to. But I dug everything about Jordan; meanwhile, she was always in the background. Now I've seen her, and I can't un-see her, and I wanted her.
"Baby steps," she said. "I'll agree to be your fuck-buddy, but that's it. Friends." She turned in my arms. "That night was . . . amazing."
"It was," I admitted. "You're the number one star in my spank bank—you have been ever since that night."
"Stop lying."
"It's true." I swayed us, smiling widely. "You make me feel like I have possibilities?"
"I don't understand what that means." She held my biceps.
"If you knew the hell I'd been through the last few months, you'd understand."
"Well, I'm no stranger," she said. "I've seen you struggling, which was why I was always so helpful. Some days, while we weren't close, it broke my heart to see you that way—that down. Maybe one day you'll trust me enough to tell me what was going on."
"One day." I smiled. "It's . . . Thank you." I kissed her nose. "Thank you. I was suffocating. You're like a new beginning. My breath of fresh air."
She sighed, resting her head on my chest. "You order the pizza, and I'll go get my books. We can read, chill, and eat?"
"That sounds awesome." I smiled into her hair. "Put on sweats, too—get comfortable."
"I'll be right back." She went to leave, but I pulled her back to nip her lips. "I've never met a guy like you before. Not scared of commitment, wants to jump into a relationship. The way you speak is mind-blowing. But I need us to go slow, to take baby steps...just friends." She actually waved her finger, which was cute.
"You'll have to school me. I've never done this before—been casual when it comes to sex." I looked down to my feet, embarrassed. "And if you feel the need to date someone else, you need to tell me beforehand. I'd go nuts. I'm not saying you can't. We're just friends. But I'd go nuts finding out from a different source." I pointed to my temple, and I realized there was so much she didn't know.
"You, too. You need to tell me. I'm not a jealous person. That's a common courtesy, safer sex and all that. But I have a feeling you'll be enough of a handful, no matter how casual." She winked, leaving my room.
When she was gone, I threw myself down on to my bed to squeal into my pillow. I felt like such a woman, but I was excited. Nothing made sense—finally breaking things off with Amelia, the way I light up when I see Jordan . . . the way things didn't look as bleak, seem as dreary anymore.
Truthfully, I wasn't as at peace as I am now, even during Amelia and my best days.
Nothing made sense.
But I was happy, oh-so fucking thrilled.
With saying goodbye to Lauren and my past, I had to let go of many things—most of my past, actually—losing and forgetting years of my life. Letting go of the anger, the resentment, the immense hate I had in my heart, trying to figure out who Damion truly was, while I also tried to find my inner child, my youth, just so I could give that fucker a hug—let him know things were going to be all right.
And this . . . it felt like the start of something new.
I swore I wouldn't let myself get carried away. I'd take things as they come, continue to heal, and do my best in school, keeping up with my family, and now . . . spending time with Jordan.
I also had a feeling that I'd never had before. It felt like . . . no matter what happened in the future, I'd get through that like I had my past.
Thank you for reading.
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Edward/The Skip is up next! See you next Wednesday!