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Fourteen

The shrill ring tone on Edward's phone pierces the silence in my bedroom for the third time. But instead of answering it, he ignores it, and I feel him moan, the rattle vibrating through his chest as I lie splayed across it. Shifting a little, his arm tightens around my shoulders, his legs intertwined with mine. I can feel a layer of light sweat all over me, my hair's matted to the back of my neck and my feet feel like lava. For a moment, I'm self-conscious about the fact that I'm half naked, clothed only in my undies, in front of Edward. But as Edward's hand, hot like fire against my skin, travels the length of my bare back, I'm glad I don't have anything between his skin and mine.

When his phone rings a fourth time though, I sit up and grab it.

"Answer the fucking thing!"

Grumbling, Edward puts the phone to his ear, closing his eyes again as I lie back down, my head in the crook of his shoulder.

"What?" he grunts, clearing his throat.

The house is quiet and still, understandably so since it's not even light outside yet. I can see cracks of grey morning light filtering in through the slits in my blinds; I don't even know where my phone is to check the time.

Taking a long, deep breath, Edward lets out a long, raspy groan. "Gimme an hour, yeah?"

With his eyes still closed he tosses the phone aside and rolls over to bury his face in my neck. He smells like hot skin and beer, but to be honest, I don't think I smell any better. He takes another breath, kissing the skin of my shoulder and sending goosebumps down my back as his scruffy chin scratches at my skin.

Snuggled up atop my sheets we fall asleep again quickly. Well, I do. Even drifting in and out of sleep I can feel Edward shifting restlessly beside me, like he can't get comfortable. After he repositions himself for the third time, I give up.

"What?"

He's lying on his back, his eyes wide open. "Nah, nothing, go back to sleep."

I roll my eyes. "I can't sleep with you wriggling."

Silent for a moment, I can see him debating something, his body is here, but it's like his mind is somewhere else completely.

"Storm's coming up fast," he says, like I'm supposed to know what the fuck that means.

"And?"

He scratches at his chest, sighing. "The boys are already out. Jacko reckons it's pumping."

"Oh."

I want him to do whatever he wants, but at the same time, I'm pretty happy with him in my bed too.

"Well." I sit up, resting my head on my hand. "You can go if you want."

Edward looks at me, chewing on this inside of his cheek. "You wanna come?"

"Surfing?"

"Nah, you can just chill on the beach and then we can do something after."

I should probably stay and help Rosie and Jasper clean up. But come to think of it, they're probably already out there.

Edward's van seems to be ready at a moment's notice, ready packed with a wetsuit and his board, towels and various other bits and pieces.

"Presumptuous much?" I tease as he zips his wetsuit up.

Grinning, he lifts his board out of the back of the van and tucks it under his arm. "Gotta be prepared for anything."

"Scouts, right?"

The sky is a mottled grey colour, sunlight trying to break through the heavy clouds as they hang low in the distance. The sea looks rough, like it's spitting the waves at the shore. Loud and thrashing they crash into the ocean before tumbling towards the sand with a thunderous roar. I can already see a handful of surfers out in the distance, little black dots on the water, braving the massive swells, barrelling in on mammoth-sized waves.

Riley is still on the sand, his black neoprene wrapped body cutting a stark silhouette against the early morning sky.

"Was wondering where you were," he says, wrapping his strap around his ankle.

I rub at the back of my neck awkwardly as Edward grins, looking sideways at me.

"She's moody as shit," says Edward, gesturing to the surf - to the white-capped waves as they careen towards us, roaring loudly.

Riley nods. "Yeah, mate. She's put on a show."

I plop myself down into the sand.

Edward looks down at me, his hair almost red against the grey of the sky. "You good?"

I nod, pulling the sleeves of one of his hoodies over my hands. With one last wink, Edward takes off for the water, splashing into the shallows before lurching forward onto his board.

The wind is so hard I can feel the spray of the ocean against my skin. Heavy with anticipation, the air is thick and wet, almost rain but not quite. I can smell the storm in the distance; the drift of clear, sweet ocean air mixed with the earthy scent of rain. It's going to be one hell of a storm.

With my legs tucked under the hoodie, I watch the boys surf waves higher than a house, huge green-grey things that rise up like a wall of water, before cresting into perfect curves that tumble over themselves into a wash of white froth. And the boys ride them like it's nothing, like being chased by tonnes of angry, storm-violent water isn't a thing. They slide through the water like a hot knife through butter, up and down, arms out as they speed through the barrels until they run out of wave, or until it claims them, smashing them into the water.

But at the first crack of thunder above, the surfers are relegated to the sand, all dribbling in one by one, panting and spitting water, dripping wet and full of smiles.

Rosie and Jasper are there, and so are the boys: Riley, Jacko, Uncle Mick and a couple of other guys I've seen around. There are a few I don't know, some young looking boys and a couple of older men I've not seen around before. Their weathered skin and greying hair belies their age, but their physique could be that of a young adult, all broad shoulders and lean, muscled arms.

"Right to go?" asks Edward, his wetsuit on his hips, his hair dripping wet over his forehead.

"Yep."

"I'll see you at home later, Ed," calls a voice across the beach.

Edward replies with a wave, and the older, blonder version of him waves back before trotting off up the beach, a board under his arm.

"That your dad?"

Scrubbing his towel over his wet hair, Edward says, "Yeah."

Surfing is obviously something Edward learned from his Dad, and I wonder idly to myself if there are any more bronzed Masen kids running around Clearwater, and where Edward gets his hair from, since his Dad is blonde. Sudden images of tiny dark-eyed kids in rash vests and Floaties pop into my head; of summers spent chasing rusty-haired children over the scorching hot sand. Another rolling crack of thunder startles me out of my ridiculous daydream and a blaze of bright white lightening streaks across the sky in the distance.

"Come on then," says Edward, his damp towel hanging around his shoulders. "Before it starts to piss down."

Shaking stupid thoughts out of my head, we make our way back up to the van, and by the time he and I get there, the rain has started, the sky growing darker by the minute. I watch it in the rear view mirror as we pull away, the charcoal sky lit with sheet lightening, the sea a rapid boil of choppy waves.

At home all four of us stand in our kitchen, eating Vegemite on toast. Rosie attempts to clean up the party mess, but it's only a half-hearted attempt, and she stops as soon as she starts. Jasper is wiped out after only having had two hours sleep, and then a morning in the surf. Edward is not much better.

"Not like you to be late," comments Jasper, eyeing Edward over a piece of Vegemite slathered toast.

Edward shrugs. "Better things to do."

Jasper's eyebrows rise so high they almost fall off the top of his head. "Huh. Right-o."

Chewing slowly, Jasper's gaze turns to me, his eyes narrowing.

"I'm watching you two," he says before backing out of the kitchen slowly, his fingers moving between his eyes and mine.

I snort as he backs into his closed bedroom door, opens it, and slides in before closing it again.

"Well. That was weird."

Edward nods. "He's a weird guy."

After breakfast, he and I end up back in bed, spending the rest of the day dozing, watching TV and kissing as the storm rages outside my bedroom window. The wind whips against the side of the house, rattling the window in its frame, the rain pounding against the tin roof loudly.

It occurs to me, while Edward is snorting lightly beside me, that really, I don't know a thing about him. I mean, I know the basics; all the things you should know about a guy before you let him touch your vagina. But we never seem to talk about anything of consequence, and most of the time when we do talk, we end up fooling around anyway, and little to no talking gets done.

Part of me is interested to know all the inner workings of Edward Masen; what drives him to get up and wade into icy cold water every morning? If he only works at Aerial sporadically, where does he get his money from? How did he get the scar on his left eyebrow?

But another part of me knows that these are the kind of details that you find out about someone you're dating, someone that you plan to spend extended periods of time with, and probably, sooner or later, call your boyfriend. A panicked feeling rises in my throat, like my heart is trying to force its way out of my mouth so it can run for the hills.

This time it's my ringtone that breaks the silence, breaks my reverie - and reaching for my bedside table, I answer.

"Bella, it's Ben. What are you doing?"

Ben sounds frantic, his words rushed and clipped.

"What? I'm in bed. What are you doing?"

"I'm putting Ange's stuff in the car, she's gone into labour."

I spring out of bed, almost pushing Edward right off the other side.

"What? Is she okay?"

I can hear her in the background, yelling at Ben to calm down.

"She's fine. I just need you to pull a shift tonight if you can?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course."

After wishing them luck, I hang up and hop out of bed.

"Where you going?" asks Edward, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"I have to go to work. Ange went into labour."

Edward's eyes pop open in surprise. "Oh. Cool."

Standing with my work uniform in my hand, I press my lips together, trying to think of a way to get Edward out of my bed so I can make it to work on time.

"I might stay…"

"So are you gonna…" I gesticulate wildly for a moment, pointing to the door. I feel like such a bitch, but all of a sudden I'm overcome with this crushing weight in my chest. Everything I'd said I wouldn't do, I've done. All I can think about when I look at Edward is Jake; a life of after school pick-ups and canteen duty, of mum jeans and a husband with a beer gut who only gets laid on his birthday, and sometimes Christmas. I see a life of unfulfilled dreams living in a small town, and it scares the shit out of me.

"Oh, yeah," he says, jumping out of bed. "You want a ride to work?"

I shake my head, feeling like a total asshole as I watch him pick up his clothes from my bedroom floor.

"Nah, it's fine. Thanks anyway though."

"No stress. Uh – you seen my t-shirt?" He spins around on the spot, his hand rubbing errantly at his chest.

Picking it up from the floor at my feet, I hand it to him, still clutching my own clothes to my chest.

Slipping it over his head, Edward pulls his head through, running his hands through his hair a couple of times before slipping his hat on.

"See you round?"

I nod, and for a brief moment I think he's going to lean in and give me a kiss. He seems to think twice about it though, probably noticing the look on my face. Smiling, he shakes his head slightly, and with a last goodbye, leaves.

The minute I step into the shower I feel like shit, and it occurs to me, as I scrub my hair angrily, rushing through a shower, that I should have been more adult about everything. I should have told Edward that I didn't want a boyfriend to begin with; then maybe I wouldn't be doing this awkward dance with him.

But if I don't want anything with Edward, why was it so fucking painful to watch him leave?

Scouts: I know you have Scouts. Just to clarify the reference, their motto is 'Be Prepared'.

Floaties: Inflatable arm bands for toddlers.

Vegemite: I know you know it. Thick, black, salty paste made from yeast. Sounds awful, tastes awesome.

Canteen Duty: Some parents volunteer for canteen duty at their kid's Primary School (Ages 6-12). Mostly handing out lunch orders and things. I think.

Before you start, don't go giving me lip about angst! This is a relatively angst-free story, with some bumps - that's all. Life isn't easy peasy all the time.

Tiff, Thimbles, Ink - The peanut butter to my celery.

Thank you for reading, and thank you to those of you leaving a review. Much Love.