We burn slow and long. Shades of ivory and blooming eyes. Soft tempers and unrelenting beauty. We pass through the week without further worry, but his words keep my head. To congeal the heart of me, I pick up all simple tasks to keep me full. To not think of him or me. Us. There is an ache which can't be solved or expired. I'm holding out for his resolution. Though it's hard to refrain from reaching for him while sitting next to each other at practice. Without this, a hole has opened. Some piece of me feels hollow and leaves me wanting.
Art has helped in the past. A quick flurry of pastels or sketching overcomes this ache, but now nothing is settled. I can't help but feel more now, forever changed by his presence, knowing that when he looks at me it's not the same as before, knowing when he looks at me it's a vow of what's to come. There have been winks and small smiles. Flourishes of fingers with a sharp gaze.
Because we've whispered.
Because our lips touched.
Because we're secret.
Unforgiving and uncompromising.
All these and more.
And when Friday comes with open arms and our home game fills the stands at our field, and he's there and his wife isn't, I feel like I've won something. Though I know I've won nothing at all. I know nothing more about his home life than what we've discussed previously, and to keep my emotions where they belong, not out in the world, I've refrained from asking.
Mom and dad are in the stands, watching me work, watching me stand next to Edward and barely speak to him. And when the game is over, and we've lost, I pat Emmett on the shoulder and tell him he's played a good game. Edward will tell him differently. He has critiques which I've not seen.
Before he trudges away to the locker rooms with the others, I pull him aside and then bring my parents into the field, next to the dugout.
"Mom, dad, this is Emmett McCarty. He's our third baseman."
I don't know why I've done this. I think to give myself validation, to introduce these disparate fragments of my life together so they'll solidify. My dad gives his police chief grin, that small stretch of his lips when he's examining someone for the first time, sizing them up. He extends his hand, gripping Emmett's.
"Hello, Emmett."
"Hello, sir." He releases and takes my mom's. "Nice to meet you."
My mom smiles fully. Any woman, no matter their age would, because Emmett's smile is infectious. Once seen there's no escaping.
"You did good out there," my dad says.
"Thank you. I just want you to know, Bella has been a life saver this year. She's been helping me with my chemistry. Thanks to her I've passed my tests."
"Bella is an excellent student," I hear Edward say behind us. His hand touches my shoulder. If I could shiver I would. I've missed those hands, their weight and warmth "She's one of the brightest in her entire senior class."
"Mr. Cullen, I almost forgot you were the varsity coach." My dad smiles at him then shakes his hand. "It's good to see you again."
"You, too, sir."
"I'm going to get changed," Emmett says and begins to step away. "Nice meeting you." As he's walking away my dad remarks he seems like a nice kid.
"He is," I say.
"We won't make any tournaments this year," Edward says looking after him. "We didn't quite make it, but he's a good player."
"So you're almost done with the baseball season, huh?" dad asks.
"Unfortunately. It was nice having Bella in the last half of our year. She was a real asset to the team and I thank you for allowing her to be part of it."
"We weren't too keen on the idea at first, but considering I've met you before, I felt more comfortable with you there." Dad grins.
I throw a fit of coughs into my hand. I've become strangled on my own saliva and I'm rushing for a cup of water. After a moment I'm recovering. The moment seized me, shocked me.
"Are you alright?" mom asks, patting my back.
I look at Edward. Lips I've kissed. Hair I've pulled through my fingers.
Oh, dad...if you only knew.
The stands are clearing. I tell my parents I'm going to help Mr. Cullen take the equipment and I'll be home after. Be careful, they say and I assure them I will.
We work in silence until we begin to carry the bags. "When did you meet my dad?" I ask.
Edward half-smiles. "When we first moved here a couple of years ago he was kind enough to bring Rose and me home after our car died at the grocery store. I see him at the diner sometimes on the weekends and we talk."
"Real police work," I laugh.
We walk and his smiles remains for a moment before it falls. "Your dad is a great man. You're lucky to have him." He's serious, and the sadness in his voice causes me to wonder why I'm the lucky one but I don't ask him. "I miss you." That was a whisper between the school and field, in the middle of nothing or no one.
I'm no longer smiling because it sounded like hello, but sounded like good-bye, too. When the equipment is stored and we're no longer solitary with our words and heat, I'm walking back to my truck with regard to how the night smells of fried food and sweetness.
"Bella!" the voice echoes, falling onto me and the lot. I turn, and when I do my stomach is thrown through a loop. Emmett is jogging toward me, white shirt stretching tight over his chest, black bag over his shoulder hanging by his hip. His hair is slick with wet, dark curls hanging in his eyes. The lamps are sporadic, barely lending a glow to our forms in the middle of this lined pavement.
"Hey," I say twirling my keys and catching them. I do this over and over before he stands in front of me panting with exquisite boy beauty, so much it hurts.
He smiles. "I was hoping I'd catch you before you left."
"Caught."
"I was, um, wondering..."
Oh no. Is this happening?
"if you aren't doing anything...I mean, if you can, or want to..."
Is he really doing this?
"Well, what I wanted to ask you was, what I've been wanting to ask you for a couple of weeks now, is if you'd be interested in, um, going to prom with, with me?"
I'm on fire. My cheeks burn in this mild night of sweet air and softened questions. I tuck my hair away, looking at my feet. How do I say yes? Would I sound too desperate if I said it right away? Should I tell him I will sleep on it? Of all the things I can say, I decide to ask, "Why?"
His smile fades.
"I mean," I correct, "I just dont understand why you want to take me, is all."
"Oh." He's smiling again. "I think you're nice, Bella. You make me smile." He shifts and steps closer. His thumb hooks around the strap over his shoulder. "You're nice to be around, and when I think of someone I want to spend time with at prom, I want it to be someone I like to be around."
"You want to spend time with me?"
He nods.
I can't help the way my smile takes over, or the small laugh erupting from my gut. "I think you're nice, too."
"Is that a yes?"
I look at him in this light, his shape and height. He's tall and broad. He's admired for his kindness and abilities. Our conversations have been simple yet charming, and he makes me smile, but the charge doesn't exist. The space between us isn't pulling us together or keeping us apart. We simply are.
But he's all the things a girl can want. He's all the things I should desire, but have no interest in. He's not Edward. I nod my head and say yes. Yes I will go. He smiles and says okay and he will text me over the weekend, leaving me without a hug or celebratory moment. Just a grin to remember him while I drive my truck home, wiping the fresh tears off my cheeks.