Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to its respective owner.
The music is loud enough to vibrate through the floor but not enough to be heard. The adrenaline pumps through me as the place of my solace comes near.
The entire warehouse has been abandoned for years, the property rotting away on the outside without a care from its owner. It's not a tall building, but a large one surrounded by brick walls.
I grab onto a metal bar and haul myself onto the top of one wall, turning to urge Edward to do the same. He follows, albeit warily.
The inside of the building is the exact opposite. It's been kept moderately clean as far as I can tell in this darkness, and the sharp beats of the music can be heard now. Edward has a curious look on his face.
I grab his hand so that we don't get lost as we descend the stairs into the basement level, the lights dimming into vibrant rainbow colors. It's completely packed tonight, bodies bumping into each other, and the atmosphere is causing my blood to pump faster.
Edward presses against my back, his lips touching the shell of my ear.
And I soar higher.
"What are we supposed to do?"
"You dance. Anyone does; they have different songs, tempos, and beats going on, and anyone can jump in," I yell to him.
The middle, wide rectangle is like an ice rink, with people standing on the borders of it. There are portable ACs plugged into the generator, and two tables stacked upside down for a make-shift bar.
Some of the people that I walk past smile and greet me hurriedly. It's the place I feel most comfortable at; they know me. They don't care what my last name is, or how much money I have in my bank account; they only care about what I present on the dance floor.
Thudding beats cross through the speakers, and a loud cheer goes through the crowd. A group jump into the middle to dance, followed by individual members who do their best to improvise closest they could to being the same. Thunderous cheers roar in our ears.
Several other beats play and people jump in and out of the rink rectangle and Edward doesn't step even an inch away from me.
A softer tempo plays, and couples start dancing this time. There's a mix of swing dancing and tango with hip hop, and then Edward is pushing me to it. It's the same feeling as always; nervousness yet the excitement to show what I know.
He grabs me around the waist, putting pressure so that I spin away from him but he catches me to stop my momentum, pulling me back to him.
These are familiar dance steps; basics of tango, yet I know he's just testing me.
With a strong and steady grip, I fall into step with him, moving my hips in motion to the fast beats. He tilts me to reach behind my knees, tossing me over his back with one arm only to catch me with the other. I crook one knee onto his waist, our lips a hair width apart. We breath each other in for mere seconds before he twirls me over his back, catching my hands from between his legs to pull me under them to his front again.
It's not until we've stopped and the applause rings out that I notice we're the only two left dancing. I've never felt so exhilarated during any of these night visits, and certainly never this confused.
.
.
Two days pass in a whirl of preparations, from the cake tasting to the wedding gown fitting. Esme has one of her favorite, new and hot designer working on the alterations and to add a little bit of lace to show skin at the hip of my right stomach.
I barely get to see Jasper-he's busy in his work, but I'm used to it. Even when we'd gone to the same academy, we'd had different priorities. He'd always been busy with his studies and Alice, and I'd just been quiet.
What surprises me is how much I looked forward to the little chances that I got to see Edward. He'd wink or smirk at me, or even pass by me with a little touch to my arm that would send my mind racing to the night when he'd danced with me. I throw myself into every little detail, desperate for a distraction.
Today's different; I know because I wake up to Esme sitting on one of the living room chairs sipping tea, her other hand occupied by a rolled magazine.
"Bella," she greets warmly.
The sight of the paper brings dread to my stomach; I'd been so absorbed that night that I'd never thought someone could've followed Edward and me to our late night adventures.
"Esme . . ."
"Come have tea with me."
I excuse myself for a moment to brush my teeth and pull a robe around me.
"I found an interesting photo this morning on the front cover."
I feel nauseous.
She puts it down in front of me, and I breathe a sigh of relief. It's one of Jasper and me-out by the lake. He's looking down at me in admiration, whereas I'm distracted by the water. It's a nice shot, I admit, as it was taken without flash. The way the lights reflect off of Jasper's features make it seem like he's a man head over heels in love.
There's a knock on the door, and Edward steps in soon after. He's freshly showered, with water droplets clinging to his hair and dropping down to leave a trace on his shirt. There's stubble growing on his jaw line, and I'm tempted to caress it to see if it'll tickle.
Esme clears her throat, and he sits down beside me.
"Isn't this picture pretty?" she asks.
He glances down, and I pay close attention to his reaction. His nostrils flare slightly, pink touching the tips of his ears.
Then he shrugs, his expression void of emotions. "It's good publicity."
"Edward Anthony Cullen." Esme scowls.
"Sorry, Ma, but isn't that what this is? It's not really a marriage-just a pretense of one."
My mouth drops open. I'd almost forgotten how blunt he is, and at the moment, he's coming off as an ass even if he's a little bit right.
Esme glares at him. "Here's another picture from the same night." She lays this one down; it's a regular photograph. It's one of Edward and me, him carrying me on his back. Except my face isn't really shown-it's buried in his shoulder.
My cheeks burn.
"And this one." We're on top of Mount Lee. His hand is so close to mine, his pinky finger touching mine as if in an intimate caress, and his face is leaning towards mine, his eyes concentrated on my lips. While he doesn't look in love, this more comes off as much more private than the one of Jasper and me.
"Explain," she orders.
"I couldn't sleep, so Edward offered to take me sightseeing."
Esme looks amused. "You've grown up here, Bella. He's the one returning home."
"Yeah . . . I meant that. I was showing him around."
Edward scoffs besides me, and I jab him in the side with my elbow.
She leans forward to put her weight on her elbows on the table. "Believe it or not, I'm old." My brows furrow. "And I can tell when there's passion between two people, and sorry Bella, but I don't think you and Jasper will last."
I grasp at the straws. "But you said that I could help bring him out of his shell again."
"You can, but I meant that in the sense that you two are better friends than life partners. Compromise can only get you so far."
"You're the one who-"
"That was before I saw you and Edward together. You're lucky the photographer made a deal with me rather than going to the magazines."
Edward had been listening silently at this point. I turn to him, wide eyed, but he's staring at Esme in an unfathomable expression.
"What are you saying, Ma?"
She gets up, fixing her waist length skirt. "I'm saying that the wedding is in four days. You have until tonight to let me know how you want to proceed; otherwise, four people will be left very unhappy." She leaves the room without another word to us.
"So that was interesting," he starts.
"He finally finds his voice!"
He rolls his eyes. "What are we going to do?"
"What do you mean? We're going to chalk this morning talk up to nothing, that's it."
His eyes flash. His hand snaps out to grab a hold of my chair's arm, pulling me so that my legs are locked between his and he's as close as he can get to me without actually kissing me. His eyes look impossibly bright, looking at me as if he's memorizing every single detail on my skin. His lips part and his tongue peeks out to wet his bottom lip. It touches mine slightly, and I let out a sound from my throat involuntarily.
"Nothing, huh?"
"We can't do this."
"We're not doing anything." His lips near yet they still don't touch mine. My hands itch to grab him closer, though I refrain. I can't. I can't do this to Jasper, but I can't pull away. It's as if he's got me hooked and locked to him, even though our legs are the only parts that are touching.
"You are."
"We're just talking."
"Uh huh . . ."
Heat coils at my stomach when the tip of his tongue brushes against mine as he wets his lips again. And just as I'm about to jump at him, he pushes his chair back, leaving the room without a backwards glance.
My heart pounds an unsteady rhythm.
.
.
I pace in front of Esme's door, anxiety licking at my flesh. I'd taken Jasper to my dancing scene, but he'd found something wrong with it, whether it was the crowed place, or the sweaty people bumping into him, or the dirty underground room. I would've excused that had it been earlier-hell, I wouldn't have taken him there in the first place.
Except now that Edward had appreciated the warehouse and its meaning, and Jasper didn't, I can't overlook that. I didn't even wait to wonder if it's too late to be disturbing Esme.
At least that's what I tell myself.
What other possible reason could there be?
I knock on Esme's door, praying that Carlisle is out; not only because it would be embarrassing with him in the room, but I'd never be able to go through with it.
She greets me, pulling me into the room. "Carlisle is out having a late night drink with your father; I don't expect him to be back soon."
Another woman is sitting on the round table, her head bowed. I try to deduce who she is, but I can't remember any guest with black, pixie hair cut. Edward is sitting opposite of her, his eyes a bit widened in alarm.
"Alice," Esme coos. The woman turns around, her eyes brimming with tears and red.
"Oh Bella," she sobs, running to me and collapsing into my arms.
I look to Edward for help, but he shrugs helplessly, looking pointedly at the wet, black stains on his button down shirt. Poor thing got attacked first; I can't hide the mirth in my smile.
I pat Alice awkwardly on the back. I've never been good with crying people; I'd always thought tears were useless. Man up or get out; it's what Charlie's always said.
"Now, now . . ." I plead with Esme with my eyes to help me, and she takes pity as she grabs Alice's shoulders to peel her away.
"Bella's agreed to help you," she coos.
Alice's expression changes immediately, almost giving me a whiplash. Her wide, doe like eyes are so hopeful as she looks to me for affirmation.
"What did I agree to?"
Esme answers nonchalantly, "That you're head over heels with Edward and you won't be marrying Jasper."
I sputter. "What? No!"
Alice lets out another loud sob, grabbing a bunch of tissues to hide her face in them.
"I mean, yeah, what she said!"
"You're in love with me?" Edward asks, smirking.
"I hate you," I hiss to him.
"Come on, baby. You just admitted to it!"
I narrow my eyes at Esme, choosing to ignore her eldest son. "I thought you didn't like her."
"She broke my baby boy's heart; she's going to mend it now." I glance at Alice, and she's whipped out a little mirror to clean under her eyes.
"This is why you called me here?"
"I didn't do anything. You came on your own merit, and I've gotten my answer."
"Which would be?"
"That you and Jasper don't belong together."
"So we're going to get Jasper married to Alice?"
Esme gets a strange gleam in her eyes. "Yes, we are."
"Except that he won't answer my calls," Alice wails, barely looking up at us from behind her compact.
"You should know him by now, Alice. He'll do whatever he thinks is right, and in this case, it's marrying Bella."
"So we just call off the wedding?" I question.
Edward shakes his head. "He needs to come to the conclusion on his own."
"How?"
Esme takes a seat, a wicked smile lighting up her face.
"I need shots of whiskey," I mutter out.
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