Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
The ladies who I run around in circles to correct my writings: Dannibags and piesmom. They have become my best friends in this whole adventure into fanfiction land. Thank you ladies for all the work you put into cleaning me up!
Bella's coffee dates have revealed another level to Mr. Cullen that Bella didn't know. What happens when her conversations with him turns into plot bunnies for her fan fiction writing?
Chapter 5
Coffee Dates and Plot Bunnies
BPOV
I hated going into work. Mike was being a major pain in the ass about my writing here lately. Every time he saw me, he had to rub more salt into the wound he had already created. I tried to ignore him, but he would sometimes override everything inside of me. I even had a few days of wandering around the house with nothing better to do. To say the least, my house was spotless because of his words.
Walking into the store, I didn't notice any of the customers around. I was once again lost in my own little fantasy world. I dropped the pen from my clipboard and reached down to pick it up when I heard someone's throat clearing. I straightened up to see Mr. Cullen standing behind me.
"Miss Swan," he said. His voice sounded a little higher than it did the last time, but it didn't really matter.
"Mr. Cullen," I said. I could feel the heat rise in my body and knew I had to be blushing.
He cleared his throat again and stared at me, causing me to blush once more. Then he turned on his heel and left the store. I watched through the window of the store as his car spun out of the parking lot. What had I done? Was it even me? I turned around to see Mike tapping his foot like a pissed off woman.
"What?" I asked, looking at him.
"What did you say to make him run off?" he asked hatefully.
"Nothing," I replied, walking back behind the counter.
"You were talking about that damn fan fiction again, I bet," he huffed.
"Actually no, I wouldn't talk about that with the customers unless they specifically started talking about it first. And, I don't mean them seeing me writing on my clipboard either," I sneered.
"Good! I would hate to see you run off customers with talks of nonsense," he said, leaving the front of the store. He usually stayed in the back, unpacking things and playing on the computer. So, when he disappeared, I breathed a sigh of relief.
I pulled out my clipboard and stood there trying to plan the next chapter of my dominant story, but nothing was coming to me. All I could think about was why Mr. Cullen had fled from the store.
When I finally got home, things weren't going any better. I was still wondering what could have driven him from the store. I couldn't even write. So I curled up on my couch with my cats and read the reviews I had been neglecting.
~MFIR~
The next couple of weeks were boring as hell. Mr. Cullen never came back to the store, but I saw the other gentleman from the grocery store once or twice. This time around though, he wasn't as friendly, and I figured it was the same thing that happened to all the males in this one horse town. They all thought I was too heavy, too obsessed, or too ugly. I couldn't tell, but if they did stay around long enough. the obsessed card would be played. Mr. Whitlock didn't know that I wrote fan fiction; so I tossed that idea out and went with the other two.
Who was I kidding? Even Mr. Cullen ran out of here like a scolded dog. What made me think that Mr. Whitlock would be even remotely interested?
To say the least, my self esteem took a huge nose dive after Mr. Cullen fled and Mr. Whitlock barely spoke to me. Apparently, Mike Newton was all I could get, and that wasn't good enough. I would rather die alone with my cats than to give him the time of day.
I was thinking about this when I tripped and fell over a damn hole in the pavement. I had sat back on my knees and was dusting my hands off when I heard his voice.
"Are you all right?" he asked, running toward me.
"Yeah," I whispered. God, I was embarrassed to have fallen in front of him.
"Are you sure because you fell pretty hard?" he said, trying to help me up.
"I'm sure. This isn't my first rodeo," I said, dusting off my sweat pants. "This is so embarrassing," I said, looking down at the ground.
"What?" he asked.
"I'm a klutz. I fall all the time. If I wasn't so stupid, I would have seen the damn hole in the pavement."
"You're not stupid," he replied.
I was stupid. Mike told me that almost every day of my life. How stupid I was to write. How stupid I was to want to sing karaoke. Trust me, I knew how stupid I was and with me not seeing the damn hole, proved it once again.
"I am," I sighed.
"Apparently, everyone is right about me not being able to do anything. I can't even walk to my truck," I sighed again.
"Thanks for helping me up," I said, walking away from him. If I continued to talk, I would spout off more stupid shit; so I wanted to get away from him. He didn't want to be around me anyway. He was trying to be nice, that was all.
I watched him turn and head back to his vehicle, where he pulled out of the parking lot. I leaned my head against the steering wheel. How did I manage to embarrass myself in front of the one person in Forks that I thought was hot? I knew I was stupid and couldn't do anything right. I raised my head and started my truck, pulling away from the curb and toward my house.
I gathered my things and walked toward the house. Goatie walked up at the same time.
"Well, hello there handsome," I cooed at him.
"Meow," he replied.
"Have a good day out?" I asked.
"Meow, Meow," he replied again.
I loved when he talked to me like that it made me feel like he understood what I was asking him. He wrapped around my legs as I opened the front door and allowed him to enter in front of me. I guess I was just destined to be lonely for the rest of my life.
~MFIR~
My writing became a constant for the next couple of weeks, and I currently was promoting my stories on four different sites. I even started my very own blog, something I had never done before.
Things were going great, looking up even. Who needed Sunblocked anyway? Alice and Rose were working their butts off for me, and I was getting great reviews. Don't get me wrong, there were some that were a little mean. I really had to fight with myself to not let them bother me, but I pulled my big girl pants on and moved forward. That was until Rose's computer crashed and burned.
Adjusting to only having one beta wasn't difficult, but I missed talking to Rose. She would always tell me about her life and how things were where she lived. But, she couldn't help what happened, and I understood.
Now that I was down a beta, a lot of stuff started happening, and I learned more about the group of people who loved the fandom just as much as I did. They had contests, fundraisers, and it was almost like the fandom was determined to unite the world, one story at a time. Of course, I thought everything was totally awesome and joined some of the contests.
I stood at the counter for a long time, working on my story while the store was empty. I heard the bell over the door ring while I was in the bathroom and hurried out so someone would be in the front. If I didn't, Mike would try to say I was neglecting the customers. So, when I rounded the corner of the counter, I wasn't looking up and ran smack into a hard body.
"Sorry, I …" I stopped. I looked up and saw Mr. Cullen standing in front of me.
"It's okay. Hum … I was wondering if you would like to have coffee with me?" he asked.
"Hum, I don't know," I replied, biting my lip. Why was he asking me to coffee? He wasn't interested in someone like me; the other day proved that he wasn't.
"What's there to know about? All I want is coffee and maybe to get to know you. I don't know that many people in town, and with my new fishing hobby, I need a friend like you," he said.
It figures I would be the one to play welcoming committee in this town. I figured I would take one for the team and go out to coffee with him. It wasn't like I was going to learn anything new. Hell, I wouldn't give him anything to talk about with the others in town. It was bad enough that they whispered as I walked by, and I figured that was all Mike's doing.
"We don't have a coffee shop, per se; we could go to the diner," I said, still biting my lip. I was ready for him to bolt again.
"Stop with the lip thing," he demanded, shocking the crap out of me. I had never heard anyone's tone be so forceful. I've heard Mike mad and heard him yell up a storm, but never had a commanding tone like Mr. Cullen.
"Okay," I whispered, letting go of my lip. After hearing his voice, I didn't want to disappoint him.
"When do you get off?" he asked.
"In five minutes," I replied quickly, not wanting to disappoint Mr. Cullen.
But if I wanted off in five minutes, I had to hurry and get everything done. When I finally got things done and let Mrs. Newton knew I was leaving for the day, I walked out to Mr. Cullen, who was still standing by the counter.
"I'm ready," I said, gathering my things.
"Good," he said, allowing me to walk in front of him. I wondered if he was afraid I would disappear or something. I wasn't the one who would be pulling a disappearing act. When I reached for the door, he stepped in front of me, opening the door, and allowing me to pass through. At least he was being a gentleman about things. Not every male I knew would even open the door for someone like me. I've seen it done with the pretty girls running around town, but never me.
I walked in front of him, the whole way leading him to the diner. He caught up with me, and once again stepped in front of me to open the door. I once again step in as he held it open. When I felt his hand at the lower part of my back, I panicked for a moment. But, thought that he was only guiding me to a booth for us to sit; it didn't mean anything.
When we arrived at the booth, he stopped and waited for me to slide into my spot. I briefly wondered if he would sit beside me, but I knew he wasn't interested, so why did I think he would? Once I was seated, he walked to the other side and slid into the booth. He picked up the menu and looked it over. I wasn't planning on eating, and I thought he wanted coffee, not dinner. So, I watched him as he read the menu.
"So, tell me something no one knows about you?" he asked, looking over the menu at me. I wasn't about to tell him about my fantasies of being tied up. No, we weren't talking about sex here. And, this town knew everything about me. Mike made sure of that. So, I had to dig deep for something that meant nothing, in case it was spread around town. I wanted to trust Mr. Cullen, but there was something about him that caused me to pause when it came to talking about me personally.
"Oh umm, I don't like Nutella," I said.
"Well, that's interesting. Why not?"
"I don't know," I said.
I knew why I didn't like Nutella. I just wasn't a big fan of chocolate peanut butter. I like Reese Cups, but I liked keeping the two separate. I was weird, plain and simple.
"Tell me something everyone knows?" he asked. Did he already know about me? If he asked around town, they would all tell him I was the daughter of a Police Chief, and I was an old maid.
"I'm the police chief's daughter," I said, as Gayle came along to take our order.
"What can I get for you guys?" Gayle asked. She probably thought I had a chance with Mr. Cullen, or she, at least, thought he was good look especially being that she winked at me. I had known Gayle for years, and she wasn't like the other women in town who would gossip. Gayle would keep to herself and never judged me for being anything less than I was. She knew about my love for fan fictions because she too was a closet reader. I never gave her my penname, even though she begged to know it, but I didn't want her to see all the things I wrote about. It was bad enough I allowed strangers that privilege, but as far as I knew, they didn't live in my hometown. They for sure didn't know my real name. Only a selected few in the fandom knew my true identity, and I wanted to keep it that way for a good long while.
"I will have a coffee with cream and sugar," he said, looking over at me.
"I'll have a hot chocolate," I said. Gayle and I had devised a code for the men I would come here with from time to time. Hot Chocolate was 'he wasn't interested' and Black Coffee was 'I wasn't interested'. 'Sweet Ice Tea' was if he was interested and adding lemon allowed her to know that I was interested. To say the least, I never got lemon with my tea. Hell, I had yet to even order Tea with a male present.
"Let me know if you need anything else," she said, leaving the table.
"Tell me something else about you?" he asked, leaning back against the seat.
"There's nothing to tell," I said, leaning back against my seat. There wasn't anything about me to tell.
"I would like to know more about you, but I won't learn if you don't tell me," he said.
"You're not interested," I said, folding my arms across my chest. Why were we playing twenty questions? Yes, he knew I read and wrote fan fiction, but I knew he wasn't interested. He would have stayed and talked to me that day, if he had been. Hell, I figured when you were interested in somebody, you would stop by just to talk, and he hadn't done that either.
"Why do you say that?" he asked.
"Because the other day at Newton's, you said hi and then left like a bat out of hell." I snipped.
He went from looking calm to turning pink and looking a little embarrassed. I couldn't figure him out at all.
"Uhm, the other day in Newton's, things became very difficult for me to handle," he stammered.
He always seemed so confident. So why was he stammering and blushing all of a sudden?
"What would be difficult to handle in the middle of a sporting goods store?" I asked.
I wanted to know what would be so difficult about being in a sporting goods store.
"Someone in that store does things to me and makes my body respond; so I had to leave," he said.
Of course, with my mind being in the gutter, I remember that Mike was close by when Mr. Cullen was in the store. Maybe he saw Mike wink at me, thinking it was him, or maybe he was attracted to Mike.
The words flew out of my mouth before I could control them, "Oh my God, you're gay," I said.
"What?" he asked.
"You're gay," I stated.
I couldn't believe I had said that in front of him. Usually if I thought that about somebody, I would watch them to see if I could tell. Mr. Cullen had never given me the impression that he was, but I had been wrong before. He sat there staring at me with this weird expression on his face. If he wasn't gay, I was expecting a look of repulsion, but I didn't see one and figured he was indeed gay.
"It figures. Men are like parking spaces: all the good ones are either taken or gay," I sighed.
"I should have known," I rambled.
"What's it like being with another man? I've read slash fan fictions, and let me tell you, they are HOT," I said, slapping my hand over my mouth.
"I'm so sorry," I apologized. It was one thing to think it, another to actually say it, but to ask him how the sex was, well that was another thing all in its self.
"I'm not gay, but I have been with a man," he said.
I thought I was going to choke on my hot chocolate.
"What was it like?" I asked, slapping my hand back over my mouth again.
He chuckled.
"I'm so sorry. I'm curious. I just wanted to know, but you don't have to answer that. Just ignore me," I rambled, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks.
"Talking about sex embarrasses you, doesn't it?" he asked.
I nodded because I couldn't speak. If I did, something stupid would come out of my mouth.
"How about we shelve that discussion for another time?" he asked.
"So, tell me about your writing," he said.
I shook my head, telling him no. I wasn't about to tell him about the things I wrote.
"Okay, do you want to know about me?" he asked, and I nodded. I was scared to even open my mouth for fear something wrong would come out. I had already made a load of mistakes in this conversation, and I wasn't about to make anymore.
He told me about his parents and how they had died, about his friend Jasper, whom I had meet in the store a while back, and how Jasper had helped him get over the death of his parents. He even told me about his last girlfriend; how she was promoted, and then left him for another man. I told him all the different ways you could prepare fish, having learned them while living with Charlie. All in all, the conversation really changed, and I could see myself opening up around him.
"Would you like to have coffee tomorrow?" he asked.
I couldn't say no. I mean, he admitted that something in the sporting goods store had affected him, and it wasn't Mike, so what was it? A part of me wanted to see if it was me. So, going for coffee again wouldn't be a bad thing plus staring into his green eyes was giving me ideas for my stories.
~MFIR~
We had coffee every day for weeks. I told him everything I wanted about my money, but I still wouldn't allow him to know how much I really had. I tried to keep everything on the down low, when it came to my money. The town's folk thought I had gambled it all away somehow or spent it on some random man in Vegas. However, they didn't know for sure. Hell, not even Mike knew the true story about my money.
When I won the lottery, I had picked taking the lump sum at once. When I sat down with an accountant in Port Angeles, I decided that I would deposit the check. Then we would transfer some money into savings accounts and IRA's, stuff of that nature to start to earn interest. I deposited the check here in Forks, and when the local teller started gossiping to everyone about how much money I had received, I decided to withdrawal all my money and move it to a bank in Port Angeles, where no one knew me. No one knew how much I had and that was fine with me. I left Forks for a month or two, and everyone thought I had blown the money. So, it was a good situation for me. I lived in the same house as my father, drove the beast I had always had, and saved money. Everyone believed the lie that I had blown it or gambled it away on something useless.
We were sitting at the diner one day talking about the next step in life.
"I think I might go back to school," I said, looking at him.
"That's great. Do you know what you want to do?" he asked.
"No, I don't really have any aspirations except maybe one day becoming a writer."
"You don't have to go to school to become a writer," he said.
"I know, but my grammar is really bad, and I need help," I sighed.
"That's what editors are for anyway. Ernest Hemingway couldn't spell worth a damn, but he was a damn good writer."
"I know, but my stories," I stopped. I was about to tell him about my stories, but that was something I wanted to keep from everyone. He had tried several times to get me to show him or tell him about them, but I wouldn't. I refused. If I allowed him into that part of my life, he would definitely run away. I felt like I was treading on thin water just reading stories, let alone telling him what they were about.
"What about your stories? You know I would help you, don't you?" he asked.
"I know," I sighed. He was adamant about helping me, and there were times I wanted his help, but the fear that he wouldn't talk to me anymore resonated at the back of my brain.
"Look, I can't help unless you tell me about them. I promise I won't judge you because of them. I know it has taken a lot for you to even tell me about writing because a lot of people give you hell about it. I won't though. I don't care what you write per se, as long as you are happy doing it," he said, reaching out to grab my hand. The electric shock happened like every time we touched, and I had become used to it.
"I want to be better now, not tomorrow, and I can't get into Creative Writing without taking the pre requirements for the class."
"Yes, you can, if you have the professor's approval. Which college are you planning on going to?" he asked.
I knew he taught Creative Writing and was one of the professors on campus. So, he would know, but why didn't Mrs. Cope tell me that when I was talking to her about classes?
"With a professor's approval," I repeated.
I could go if I had the professor's approval without having to take all those other classes.
"Yes, now what college?" he asked, smiling.
"Peninsula," I said, as he continued to stroke my hand.
"Consider it done. The new semester starts in a couple of weeks. I expect to see you in class," he said, winking at me. I giggled.
When I left the coffee shop, a whole lot of plot bunnies entered my mind, and I finished off two chapters worth of my dominant story. I was proud of my achievement until it dawned on me what Edward has said.
"Consider it done. The new semester starts in a couple of weeks. I expect to see you in class."
I slumped back in my chair.
Shit! He would be reading things I would be writing for his class. Something he might think is stupid or pointless. Something that didn't make sense or worse, he wouldn't like anything I had written and cause our friendship to dissolve when he would have to fail me for poor grammar. It was official, I was screwed.
But, I needed the guidance and maybe, just maybe, with him being my friend, he would guide me along. I crossed my fingers and hoped that everything would go well.
~MFIR~
My second chapter came in from the beta group, and once again, it looked like someone has splashed red paint all over the word document. I was digging through it, trying to figure out what the new group of editors wanted from me. I was more confused than anything, and I wanted to pull every last hair out of my head. How did anyone ever learn what to do with all these marks? One editor would suggest something, and then another one would comment with another suggestion. I tried, but everything was a mess.
I sent my first chapter back to them with the revisions the three wanted and tried to request that they only give me the same three people every time. Trying to listen to and following instruction from six different people was becoming terribly confusing and aggravating.
I read every last article on how to do all kinds of things, but nothing would stick in my stupid brain. I read over and over, trying to figure it out. I finally gave up and thought I would wait until I was in class to see what Mr. Cullen would teach or how he would edit something.
The week before classes started, I joined a contest and tried to work on just writing one shots instead of multiple chapters. I think I pulled it off rather nicely and developed a fairly decent story or that was what I thought. Once the other contestant had their stories up to read, I felt like I didn't stand a chance in hell. Everyone's stories were so much better than my own. I should have known better, being so new to this whole writing scene.
If I wasn't feeling down about the contest and not being able to have coffee with Mr. Cullen because he was busy, then I shouldn't have opened my email. Along with my first chapter revisions, I had an email from the group of betas. They politely informed me that until I learned more or cleaned up my work, they would no longer be accepting anymore of my chapters. I felt like crying. I had done everything I thought they wanted, and it still wasn't good enough. Apparently, I should have listened to Alice and hung up my hat, but no, I had to go and do it anyway.
It was in that moment that I felt like everything I had been working on for months on end were crumpling in front of my eyes. I couldn't get to class fast enough to fix my problems.
A/N: I hope you are enjoying this journey. Some of the things Bella goes through are the things I have had to endure as I have made my way into the fandom. As always be kind and review … they warm my heart.