Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.
Chapter Fourteen
The panic over my impending date with Edward had forced me not to return to work after lunch. Instead, I spent the remainder of the day stress eating and pacing back and forth from the living room to the kitchen.
I had just finished eating leftover Chinese food when Rose walked into the apartment, not looking surprised to see me home earlier than usual.
"Where were you all of yesterday?" she asked instead, raising a brow. "You disappeared during the movie Saturday and didn't bother answering your phone yesterday."
Ignoring her, and sounding a little too desperate, I blurted out, "I need help."
"You're going to have to be more specific," Rose responded, eyeing—but not commenting on—the discarded fruit roll-up wrappers littering the floor.
"I have twenty-five hours until my date with Edward. I need you to perform a miracle."
"So, that's where you were yesterday? With Edward?" she questioned, smiling widely.
"You're focusing on the wrong thing," I whined, giving her minimal details to move this along. "Yes, I was with him yesterday, okay? Now, be a good friend and tell me this date isn't going be a disaster."
"The date isn't going to be a disaster," she repeated.
"Are you lying? You're lying," I accused, sinking lower into the couch cushions.
"Of course I'm fucking lying," she snorted. "You're going to be fine, dude. You don't need my help."
"I do. I so do. I need to learn how to act normal," I cried.
"Then you're screwed," she responded immediately, laughing at my glare.
"Way to have some fucking faith in me," I shot back, kicking my feet up on the coffee table.
"Well, what? You trying to act normal would end up being way more weird than not."
"That's... rude." And probably true.
"Edward doesn't care if you're normal, you moron. How have you not figured that out by now?" she asked.
Before I had a chance to respond, Emmett entered the apartment, walked straight into the kitchen, and opened the fridge.
"Anyone mind telling me where the fuck my Chinese food is?" he yelled, slamming the fridge door.
"I think I threw it out," Rose answered, reaching for the remote and flipping on the television. "It was like, two weeks old."
My stomach turned as I muttered, "What? You didn't throw it out. I just ate it."
"Who the hell eats food that isn't theirs?" Emmett asked, picking up the styrofoam container from the coffee table to find it was empty.
"It was in my fridge," I argued, grabbing my bottle of water and chugging the contents.
"Ew," Rose groaned. "What if you get food poisoning? That happened to my cousin."
"That's not going to happen. I microwaved it. Surely that would've killed any bacteria... right?" I asked, pushing the thoughts of getting sick out of my head, not needing one more thing to stress about. "I feel fine, anyway." I smiled weakly, ignoring the pointed glances they exchanged.
I was going to be fine.
...
I wasn't fine.
After waking up to a text from Edward around one o'clock in the morning, letting me know he had made it home from his friend's birthday dinner, I immediately knew something terrible was about to happen.
Half awake, I stumbled out of my bed and into the bathroom, squinting against the sudden brightness as I flipped on the light switch. I immediately dropped to my knees in front of the toilet and held my hair back, my eyes watering as I heaved and retched.
After what seemed like forever, the puking eventually stopped and I groaned, not having enough energy to leave the bathroom floor. I reached up and yanked a towel down from the bar, then folded it into a makeshift pillow before succumbing to exhaustion.
...
"Wow, you look like shit," Emmett bellowed, nudging me with his foot. "Get outta here. I need to shower."
My eyes blinked open and I winced, every muscle in my body protesting as I slowly sat up.
"Look what you did, you little jerk," I accused in a raspy voice, holding my arms out for his assistance.
"Did you just quote Home Alone?" Emmett interrogated, pulling me up from the floor. "And your breath smells like shit."
"Stop judging me. You got me sick, so you aren't allowed to say anything," I muttered weakly, stumbling to the couch since it was closer than my bed.
"I didn't get you sick, Bella. The fucking nasty ass, two week old Chinese food got you sick," he pointed out, and the mere mention made my stomach turn.
"You're the one who put it in my fridge. You know I can't control myself when it comes to Kung Pao chicken. You know this!" I screamed, letting myself fall onto the couch.
"Chill the fuck out. Just sleep it off and you'll be better in no time."
So, I did sleep it off, and when I woke up to my phone ringing, I didn't feel better. At all. In fact, seeing Edward's name flash on my screen, I suddenly felt a lot worse.
"Hey, are you okay?" Edward immediately asked, sounding concerned. "Tanya just texted me to ask why you aren't at work."
"I just... took the day off," I whispered, not wanting to mention that I'd been puking all night and all morning.
"Why? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I lied, standing to pace the room, then immediately laid back down on my bed, trying to figure out when I had moved from the couch.
"You sound croaky," he assessed.
"It's a new voice I'm trying out... and I just wanted to take the day off so I could start getting ready for tonight. You can never be too prepared."
"It's only eleven, Bella."
Pulling the phone away from my ear, I checked the time on my phone, and fuck. It was only eleven in the morning. How long was food poisoning supposed to affect a person?
"Yeah, I know. It takes me that long to get ready."
"You're acting strange, even for you. Are you sure you're still up for tonight? Getting cold feet, or what?"
"What?" I coughed. "No. Edward, I'm seriously fine. I'm looking forward to tonight," I insisted.
Edward was in the middle of speaking when Emmett burst open the door to my room, surgical mask covering his mouth and nose.
"Sweet, you're still alive," he announced loudly, holding up a liter of Sprite and bag full of what I assumed was medicine. "I brought you some backup."
"Is that Emmett?" Edward questioned, and I put my index finger over my mouth, indicating for Emmett to shut the fuck up.
"Edward? Are you there?" I asked, grabbing a piece of paper from my desk and crinkling it near the phone. "I can't hear you. The connection's breaking up," I lied before hanging up on him.
"Cure me," I moaned, lying back on my bed.
"Chug this," he instructed, tossing a bottle of Pepto-Bismol my way.
The next six hours were spent alternating between sleeping restlessly and puking. It was exhausting and annoying, and I felt like death, but―for some reason―I was adamant on going to dinner with Edward.
"Help me," I croaked. "I need to get ready for my date. Edward's going to be here in less than two hours."
"You're not seriously considering going out, are you? When was the last time you puked?" he asked, words muffled due to the mask.
"Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to," I hissed out. "DayQuil. That should help, right?"
"I... don't think that will help."
"There should be some DayQuil in the bathroom. Please, Emmett. You owe me. I saved you from food poisoning," I said, laying on the guilt. "I'll chug more Pepto and pop some DayQuil, and I'll be lovely and charming for my date."
Emmett rolled his eyes and left the room, returning with the box of medicine.
"I can't take care of you anymore, I gotta go," he muttered, tossing the box on my bed. "When you overdose and die, don't blame me."
Ignoring him, I brought the two gel capsules to my lips and swallowed them down with Sprite, followed by two more capsules, silently willing myself to feel better.
"Stop puking, you pussy," I muttered to myself lowly.
Standing from the bed, I slowly began to make my way to the bathroom, hoping the medicine and a hot shower would help.
It didn't.
And when I noticed the box of NyQuil on my bedroom floor, I realized why I had almost fallen asleep in the shower.
Since I was determined not to let a little puke and drowsiness keep me from my date with Edward, I began getting ready. I blow-dried half of my hair, then gave up, moving on to my makeup, which I also quit a mere five minutes in.
An hour later, there was a knock on the door. I groaned, pulled myself off the couch and opened the door.
"Hey," Edward smiled, "are you ready to go?"
"Why didn't you just walk in?" I whined.
"Because this is a date, Bella."
"Where are we going?" I asked, grabbing my purse and locking the door behind me.
"I was thinking P.F. Chang's," he offered as we walked down the stairs and outside.
"No!" I screamed, my own voice startling me.
"No?" he asked, opening the car door for me.
"I thought you loved Chinese food," he stated once he was seated beside me.
"You thought wrong," I murmured, leaning my head against the window.
After a few minutes he asked, "Okay, so... where do you want to go, then?"
Lifting my head, I pointed out the window at the first place we passed.
"You wanna go to the vet clinic?" he asked, laughing. "How about we go to Romeo's?"
"Sure. Perfect," I agreed.
With it being Tuesday evening, we were able to get a table immediately. And since this was a date, and Edward was being date Edward, he pulled my chair out for me.
"How are y'all doing tonight? My name is Jake and I'll be your waiter for the evening."
"Sup, Jake?" I greeted enthusiastically to make up for the fact that I almost nodded off to sleep. "We're great."
"Perfect." The waiter forced a smile before staring expectantly. "What can I start y'all off with to drink? Our special tonight is half price bottles of wine."
"Do you want wine?" Edward asked me politely, reaching across the table to hand me the wine list.
"I want soup," I decided loudly, causing the people at the table next to us to glance our way.
"So you're ready to order then?" Jake asked, pulling out a little notepad and pen.
"Yes. That sounds great. I'll have three soups, please." I nodded a few times too many, mustering whatever energy I had left to shove my menu into his hands.
"Okay..." he trailed off, placing the menu under his arm and scribbling my order down. "Which soup would you like?"
"Surprise me," I suggested, receiving a blank stare from both Edward and the waiter.
"Um." Edward looked from me, then down at his menu, ordering something that made the bile rise in my throat.
Once the waiter walked away, Edward stared at me, slightly narrowing his eyes as he began asking me questions about things. I wasn't exactly sure what we were talking about, since it was hard to focus, but I answered his questions to the best of my knowledge.
Like, when he asked what I did earlier in the day, I began quoting Home Alone. And when he suggested I drink some water because I didn't look too well, I explained that I didn't really care for dessert, but that he could order some if he wanted.
Some time later, the waiter set three bowls of soup in front of me. With a shaky hand, I picked up my spoon and began slurping the broth, despite the uneasiness of my stomach.
"Hey, are you sure you're okay?" Edward asked, and hearing him utter the words worsened the feeling in my stomach.
"I'm fine," I murmured, mouth filling with saliva as I spoke.
"Your hand is in your soup, Bella," he pointed out, causing me to look down and gasp in surprise, because he was right.
"I want to go home!" I suddenly cried, pulling my hand out of the soup and drying it on my dress. "I need to go home and die. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Edward's eyes went wide at my outburst, then scanned the room to track down our waiter.
"Stop apologizing," he said in a hushed voice. "Christ, what's wrong?"
"I'm pukey. I puked so much today, Edward. And then Emmett..." I stopped speaking, hot tears burning my eyes because I felt like shit, and merely talking made me feel exhausted. "Emmett accidentally gave me NyQuil instead of DayQuil."
It took a moment for the information to be processed, but then Edward began shaking with laughter.
"Are you kidding me right now?" he questioned, leaning over and resting his elbows on the table.
"No."
"Why didn't you just tell me, Bell?" He shook his head, placing his napkin next to his water. "We could have rescheduled."
"Because I didn't want to ruin our date," I whined, not able to keep myself from sinking down in my chair.
"Come on. Let's get you out of here," he uttered softly, throwing some cash on the table as he pushed his chair back.
"Keep the change, ya filthy animal," I mumbled as Edward helped me out of the restaurant.
What felt like years later, I woke up in my bed, drenched in sweat, wearing an oversized shirt and an old pair of cotton shorts. Edward was next to me, sitting up against the headboard fast asleep.
I carefully crawled over him and quietly shut the door behind me, heading for the bathroom to clean up. After showering and brushing my teeth twice, I walked back into the room to find Edward awake.
"Hey," he said, muting the sound on the television. "Are you okay?" he asked, grabbing the bottle of water from beside the bed.
"Yeah, I was just showering. What time is it?" I yawned, crawling back onto the mattress, taking a small sip of water.
"A little after three in the morning," he informed me. "How do you feel?"
"I still feel like shit," I admitted. "A little weak, but whatever. I didn't throw up on you by any chance, did I?"
"No, but the interior of my car is another story."
"I ruined everything, huh?" I questioned quietly, feeling a little too sorry for myself. "That'll be the last time you ask me out on a date."
"Come on. You're sick. You didn't ruin anything, Bella," he assured me, smiling lightly.
"I'm only sick because I couldn't stop myself from eating two week old Chinese food," I pointed out—the fact that my stomach didn't turn at the mention of food was a good sign.
"Yeah, but it's not like you knew the food was old, right? I'm sure you wouldn't have eaten it if you knew that beforehand," he insisted.
"I'm pretty sure I still would've eaten it. I have absolutely no self control when it comes to Chinese food," I mumbled. "Or maybe I just have zero self control in general."
"Well," he started to say, lowering his voice, "I don't think you have a problem with self control. You managed to ignore my charm for four years."
"You've tried wooing me for four years?" I asked quietly.
"Wooing, Bella? Really?"
"Don't judge my choice of words. I've been drugged, remember?" I reminded him, silently cursing Emmett. "And don't change the subject."
He released a long sigh before he said, "I guess, yeah. Ever since you broke up with that loser Garrett."
"Loser Garrett? I don't even remember Garrett," I stated, shifting back to lean against the headboard.
"Yes, you do. He had a pet hamster," he reminded me, laughing.
"Oh yeah, that guy. I thought you liked him?"
"No. I never liked Garrett. I never liked any of the guys you dated because they weren't me."
His words caused my heart to swell as I whispered, "Four years is a long time."
"I know," he agreed, swallowing thickly.
"You should've said something sooner."
"When would I have had the chance? You're a serial dater," he said teasingly, but he was right.
"Is that a bad thing?" I questioned, and he merely shrugged.
Rolling onto my side, I tucked my left hand under my pillow and closed my eyes as Edward began rubbing my back.
"I don't think I've ever told you this before, but you're really sweet," I admitted, keeping my eyes closed. "You didn't seem mad that I puked in your car, and you even changed me into my pajamas."
"Changing you into your pajamas was more for my benefit," he admitted, chuckling.
"But still," I whined, wishing this moment of vulnerability would fade away. "I don't know how you've put up with me for so long. I don't deserve you. I'm not worthy."
"Hey," he scolded in a low voice, and when I opened my eyes, I was caught off guard by his intense gaze. "Shut up, Bella."
"Oh. I thought you were going to say something really sweet, but... shut up works, too."
"I thought about it," he said, "but then I remembered you've been drugged and you probably won't remember any of this. I need to save the good speeches for when you're more than half conscious."
"Makes sense," I agreed, closing my eyes again.
It became quiet then, and I was on the verge of falling asleep when the room suddenly grew darker. Edward shifted next to me in the bed, and I realized he had turned off the television.
"Hey," I mumbled sleepily. "You're not leaving, are you?"
"And miss the chance to see you puke again? No way," he answered quietly, pulling the blanket over us.
"Okay," I yawned. "Because I want you to stay." His thumb brushed across my cheek and I asked, "How do you feel about spooning with someone who puked in your car?"
I felt his breath on my face as he laughed quietly, uttering, "You're not just someone. Get over here."
I shifted back against his chest and nuzzled my head into the pillow, shuddering as I became surrounded in his warmth.
"I can't believe you didn't tell me you weren't feeling well," he mumbled against my neck. "You ordered three soups at the restaurant."
"That's not that weird," I argued.
"Your hand was in the soup at one point," he informed me, body shaking with laughter.
"Whatever." I sighed. "We obviously won't go back there for our next date."
"What makes you think there's going to be a next date?" he teased, tightening his hold around me.
"I'm not just someone, remember?" I countered. "You said so yourself."
"I did say that... I'm surprised you didn't freak out."
"The drugs helped," I joked. "Speaking of drugs, I think you need to kick Emmett's ass for me."
"I seriously thought about it, but then I realized it was your fault for trusting him to give you the correct medication in the first place."
"You have a point," I muttered. "But we're dating now, so you have to do everything I say."
"Oh, so we're dating now, huh?" he questioned, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
"Well, yeah," I said softly. "You're not just someone for me, either."
A/N: Y'all are still reading this story? Thank you. Seriously.
Thanks to Kim and Julie for keeping my ass in check.
Hey, if y'all are into Twilight fanfiction, VampiresHaveLaws and I started a collab titled Stubborn Love. it's a story about Edward and Bella. our pen name is VampiresHavebeagles. :3