EPOV
I've never been a fan of handjobs. The whole idea of a girl fumbling to do what I've been easily doing myself for years never really appealed to me. Especially when there are so many other, great things they can do that I can't do myself.
But of course, Bella was the one to completely up-end that view. Why I'm even surprised by this anymore, I'll never know. The feel of her little hand haphazardly wrapped around me managed to completely convert me to the idea of the handjob, most likely because I can't imagine a single way she could ever touch me that I wouldn't enjoy.
Given, the slap to the stomach - that I probably deserved - wasn't great, but still, the girl brings something out in me that I've never felt before. One would think that the emotional roller coaster would have slowed down once I made it out of that fucking hellhole, but being with Bella has only increased it's pace. That said, the range of emotions has widened beyond fear, terror and hopelessness, but I'm still yet to wrap my head around all of the feelings coursing through me whenever her name pops up in my head.
I know that most people would tell me 'you're in love!' and be done with it, but it's so much more than that. There is the love - the desire to have her constantly around, the need to know that she's safe and happy and wanting to make sure that I'm the person who makes her safe and happy. But beyond that, there's so much more.
There's that irrational fear that something might happen to her - which I'm not entirely convinced is purely a product of our ordeal, the insecurity that she might not feel the way I do about her, the dull ache that results when I'm not around or when I know she's sad and there's nothing I seem to be able to do to help her. She suffers, more than she lets on, and knowing that is probably the worst part of the whole thing. That's why I stopped being such an asshole about the whole therapy thing, and it really seems to be helping her.
And as much as I hate to admit it, Marcus seems to be helping me too.
"Hello, Eddie," he coos as I sit down in his office, immediately picking up the weird-looking, rubbery stress toy that sits on the coffee table separating us. I have no fucking clue what it's called, but you can wrap it around your wrists and pull on it, something I find myself doing every time Marcus pisses me off, which is often. The thick rubber is almost impossible to pull further than a few inches, but it really does help offset the irritation the asshole seems to bring out in me at every possible opportunity.
"You know I hate that shit," I grumble at him. He looks down at my hands, already yanking at the ends of the rubber cord, and his smile gets even wider when he looks back at my face. Marcus is a young guy, probably no older than 30, and he uses that to his advantage, talking to me like we're equals instead of feeding me the whole 'how does that make you feel?' bullshit.
As much as I hate to admit it, he's actually kind of a cool guy.
Unless he's trying to be a dick, as he often does.
"I do know that."
"You are such an asshole."
"I know that, too."
I sigh, knowing that nothing I can say will affect him in any way, so I move on.
"So what hellish ordeals do you want to put me through today, Marcus?"
He laughs, a carefree sound that pisses me off to no end.
"Wow, you're certainly feeling chipper this morning," he notes, "is it that time of the month?"
Douche.
I fight my way through my session with Marcus - figuratively speaking of course - and almost run out the door the second he informs me that our time is up. He laughs as I bolt from the room.
"See you next week, Eddie - I'll miss you too!"
I end up laughing as I leave... the guy gets me, as much as I hate to admit it, and I really think that if I'd been paired with anyone other than him, I'd have given this therapy thing the boot a long fuckin time ago.
Case and point being Dr Douchebag.
Bella swears that I just got off on the wrong foot with her beloved 'Garrett', but I'm confident that the two of us would never have gotten our shit together. Marcus is an asshole, but somehow he can tell when he's about to push me too far, and when I need to be pushed a little further. As much as I resent admitting it, he really has helped.
The opportunity to beat the shit out of something every other day has also contributed to the cause.
I've never been physically stronger than I've become since getting into the whole training thing, having been a lazy little shit for most of my life, but I'm a much bigger fan of the whole thing that I would ever have thought. Even though I'd never lay a hand on a person who didn't really fucking deserve it, knowing that I'm strong enough, and skilled enough to protect both myself and Bella if need be somehow makes me feel a whole lot less freaked out about being back in the world.
Also, my body isn't looking so bad either. Bella seems to be a fan, judging by the way she completely unsubtly gropes my back and shoulders muscles everytime she hugs me.
I climb into my car, wind down the windows and turn my music up obnoxiously loud. Foals are not the kind of music one typically blasts as they cruise, but fuck that. I've developed a love of driving around, wind in my hair and music blaring since I've been... free. I stumble over that word, even in my own head, because quite frankly it sounds fucking ridiculous.
I still, at times, struggle to believe that what happened to Bella and I actually happened. I mean, of course it fucking happened, I live with the aftermath of it every god damn day, much to my irritation, but it's not the kind of thing you imagine will happen to you when you're a seventeen year old kid. It belongs in the realm of nightmares and badly scripted hollywood films, not in the realm of my recent memory. I just wish I could forget the whole fucking ordeal... I'd rather a 6 week long black hole in my memory than the ones that experience gave me.
Excepting Bella, of course.
Her name passing through my head makes me smile like the pussy-whipped loser that I seem to have become.
I was never that guy - the one who did sweet shit and doted on a girl, mainly because I never really felt the need to. Sure, girls were fun, but sat on the periphery of my life, coming and going with no real consequence. More than the fooling around part - which I am a huge fan of, make no mistake - Bella is the first girl I've felt like I needed, and who makes a legitimate impact on the quality of my life.
Sure, it was contrived in a horrific, unreal situation, but it's more real than anything I've ever known.
I drive around for a while longer, no direction in particular forming in my mind. I love the freedom of the road, driving around with no pressure, surrounded by fresh air and the feel of the sun through my windshield. Eventually I gravitate in the general direction of Bella's place, as I always seem to end up subconsciously doing. I know she's at home, probably lying on that stupid blow-up toy with a book in her hand as she drifts around her pool.
Her free hand is probably dangling in the water, occasionally lifting out to flick cooling drops on her sun-heated skin...
All of a sudden I'm no longer drifting in her general direction, but heading directly to her place along the quickest route I can think of. I'm really fucking glad it was too hot to put on jeans this morning and I'd opted for boardshorts and a singlet instead. I'm sure she'll be willing to lend me a towel.
Or better yet, let me share with her.
Before the subsequent fantasy of Bella soaking wet and pressed against me consumes me entirely, I drive down her driveway and force myself to get my mind out of the gutter lest I risk running into Charlie with a semi.
I let myself in using the key I've been given for emergencies and jog through the house and out the back, where I can hear Bella's music playing. I look through the glass of the back door, taking a moment to absorb the picture before me. I was almost right - she's on the stupid pool longue, one arm partially submerged under the water. Her sunglasses on, no book in her hands, she could very well be sleeping.
In a little blue bikini.
Sleeping Beauty eat your heart out.
The only thing that disrupts the peaceful image, and I almost laugh aloud when I hear it, is the Wu Tang Clan she's blasting while she drifts around easily. The album that I gave her.
Fuck, I love her.
Chubs is lying on one of the deck chairs, resting on Bella's towel as he soaks up the sun along with Bella. When I slide open the door, he immediately looks up, then gives an excited yelp as he scrambles off his perch to come say hello. I'm momentarily distracted from my perving by the fluffball bouncing around at my feet.
"Hey buddy! How's it going?" I pat him as I speak, enjoying the feel of his sun-warmed fur. "You having a nap in the sun, are you? That's a good idea, clever boy!"
His tail goes crazy as I praise him in this stupid voice that I only ever use when I'm talking to him. I pat him for a little while longer then look back up to Bella, who is smiling indulgently at our reunion from her place on her floating bed. I smirk and wave at her, and she waves back, offering nothing else by way of greeting, which is completely not acceptable.
I quickly yank of my shirt, dumping it and the contents of my pockets beside her towel on the chaise then dive into the water, coming up almost directly beside her. She recoils from me when I shake my wet hair at her, laughing to myself at the odd whining sound she makes.
"Hello," I say casually and she just glares at me. Accepting the challenge inherent in her rudeness, I slowly push down on the edge of her floating bed, drawing her involuntarily closer to me, and the water.
"Fine, fine!" she cries, her voice tinted with a squeal and full of playful irritation. She leans in and kisses me, not expecting for me to wrap the arm that had been pulling her down around her neck to hold her mouth to mine. I don't deepen the kiss, I just keep her there, our lips joined for a long moment.
I've missed her.
She indulges my clingy ways, placing a small hand on my shoulder to steady herself so she doesn't roll off her perch. I ignore her desire to stay out of the water and pull her down and in, wrapping my arms firmly around her waist to keep her close... and restrain her from beating me up.
"Ah!" She screams as the cold water envelops her. "You. Are. Such. An. Asshole!"
She punctuates all of her words with smacks to my chest, which I laugh at to disguise my slight wince. She needs this - my being a douchebag, teasing her and making her scowl and laugh and forget about things. I'm more than happy to take the intermittent abuse from her if I can keep a smile on her face.
When Bella's thinking about what happened to us, three things happen. I don't even think she realises that she's doing it, but I do, and it kills me. I'll do whatever I have to to keep them from occuring.
One, she gets this sad, vacant expression on her face. Her eyes go glassy, seeing nothing except for the memories that we've both replayed in our heads far too many fucking times for my liking. She thinks she can cover it up, and she'll still participate in a conversation and try to act like everythings normal, but I know better.
Two, her leg starts to shake. It's a small thing, a bouncing of her toes that runs up her calf so that her knee bounces just a little. I first noticed it when we were in the room together, and it only comes up when she's thinking about it. It's like her body, even in that small way, is eager to get the fuck out of there and can't stop itself from moving.
And when it gets really bad, we reach stage three. The stage where she pulls her legs up to her chest and wraps her arms around herself, making this tiny ball of person. This only happens when she knows that she can't internalize her dark thoughts, and usually arrives when someone asks her a question about the situation. I hate this stage, even more than the others, because she used to do the same thing every time she heard a noise through a knobless door when we were in that fucking room. Seeing her like that not only makes me worry about her, but brings up a shitload of bad thoughts of my own.
If me making an ass of myself can stop any of these things from happen - can keep that gorgeous smile on her even more gorgeous face - then I'll make an ass of myself every damn day for the rest of our lives.
She needs me, and I love her, so I'll do it in a fucking heartbeat.
Things are slowly getting better for us both, and even better, between us, and I'll do absolutely anything I can to protect that.
"Ow! What the fuck was that, Bella?"
She smiles smugly as she retracts her fingers from my now twisted nipple.
"Revenge," she smiles innocently, but somehow not inncocently at all.
"I'll show you revenge," I say with a dark smile of my own, then, before she can struggle out of my grip, I remove my feet from the bottom of the pool, forcing us both under the water. When I come back up to the surface, she's spluttering and coughing and has a purely hateful look on her face, and I can't stop laughing.
Eventually, the scowl slides from her face, replaced with a small, grudging smile that she can't completely fight down.
Perfect.