A/N: Hey, thanks for the awesome response. I'm happy you're liking, so here's a freebie for my gratitude. Plus, I did finish another chapter tonight *ahem* But I'm still nice, right? lol
This one isn't beta'd either. I'm imperfect, but it should be still readable.
xoxo
Hoodwinked
Chapter 3
I make the decision to tell Renee.
I know the moment Edward comes to pick me up for the Farewell, she'll have questions, and a lot of them. Knowing my mother, she'll insist on interrogating the both of us right then and there, and God only knows the things that will come out of her mouth. I really don't want to give the shithead next door any more ammunition against me, either.
I wait until the following day after school, when Dad's safely out of the house. He's a sergeant at Camden Police Station and not exactly Edward's number one fan. Edward's a huge partier and my father has broken up more than several where Edward was in attendance; stoned or drunk out of his mind, of course. Another reason why I need my mother on side; to hold back Charlie when he goes for his gun.
I find my mother dancing to The Wiggles in the family room with Jake. In her heels, of course, because she's never out of them. She's The Wiggles biggest stan, but she never got over the blue Wiggle, Anthony, retiring.
"Hey, sweetie," she greets me brightly, coming out of a full twirl to hug me and plant her lips to my cheek. "How was your exam?"
"Good," I answer. Today was the English exam in the HSC, but as my thoughts inevitably retrace back to school a smirk slyly pulls across my face. Mike glared at me the entire time, but didn't have the balls to confront me. Not after Edward's warning at least. "Can we talk?"
Her eyes immediately burn with curiosity. "Of course. Oh, gossip—shall I make coffee?"
"Erm, no," I reply, as my mother hooks her arm around my elbow and leads me to the sofa in the living room.
"Okay," She sits beside me, her face completely animated in anticipation.
Taking an inevitable breath, I begin, "I'm kind of seeing Edward..."
My mother's expression turns blank for a moment, her head tilting. "Edward...? From next door?"
"Yes."
She hesitates for a moment, in obvious confusion. "But what happened to Mike?"
I lower my head and run my fingers heavily over my brow. "I'm not sure what happened. It wasn't intentional," I begin when my mother interjects.
"I knew it!" The excitement is suddenly palpable in her voice. "Oh my gosh, he's so handsome—I want all the details!"
I shake my head, my cheeks flushing conspicuously. "I... I'm not sure what to tell you."
Renee's not deterred though, and in response, she squeals. She literally squeals the same way Alice does. "This is so exciting—now honey, you have to be extra careful. Edward's not a school boy. He's a man."
"Mum," I complain. "We haven't..." I let it go; it's pointless. My mother's clearly coming to her own conclusions.
"I'm so happy!" she declares. "You know he mows the lawn bare-chested? You'll have to come watch with me next time. I perv on him all the ti—"
"Mum!" I burst, horrified. "Bloody hell!"
"Oh," she slaps my shoulder playfully, before suddenly pulling herself to her feet. "Be right back, sweetie."
She practically prances from the room, clapping her hands to herself as she does. When she returns, she's carrying a book that smells like its origins began in the 1970s.
Placing it in my hands, she sits herself beside me again. I look down at it; The Act of Love, and just as I'm about to throw it back at her in repulsion, my mother explains her motives.
"I think you're ready for this, honey. Boys Edward's age are going to want...certain things, and this book—"
I'm on my feet it an instant, dropping my mother's sex book to the sofa as I do. "Mum! Christ—I-I don't need this!" I protest.
"Oh, but he's so handsome," she pulls herself beside me, grabbing both my arms as she continues to gush.
"Handsome?" I echo her in disbelief. "He's a dickhead!"
She falters, gazing at me as though I were acting irrationally. I am. "Sweetie, do you have your period?" she asks delicately.
"Oh my god," I utter helplessly, hanging my head back in frustration, and wondering why I thought telling my mother would be a good idea.
"You're all over the place, sweetie. It's all very new and exciting, I know, but remember to keep your head. God knows I wouldn't be able to keep mine in his presence."
"Okay, thanks, mum," I concede defeat before dragging myself toward my bedroom. "Please kill me..."
Alice is hanging at Jas' house, so I'm thankful I don't have a reason to go next door and be further tortured by shithead. Being in my mother's overexcited company, however, isn't much of a consolation.
Half an hour later she creeps into my room, carrying a cup of herbal tea.
"I thought you might like this, sweetie," she says, handing it to me, along with a B12 vitamin—for my monthly mood swings.
"Thanks," I say softly, obliging her. Despite all her over-investment, Renee's heart has always been in the right place.
"And..." She sits beside me on my bed and clicks open her phone. "I just want to let you know that I am totally okay with this. You're eighteen..." Before I can ask her what the hell she's on about now, she elaborates by holding her phone out in context.
I freeze, the blood in my veins running completely cold.
It's Alice's photo.
"How did you...?" My voice fails, and abandoning it, I drop my face into both my palms completely mortified.
"Oh, honey, I have my contacts," she says, her eyes glued to the screen, her shoulders pulling up as an excited sound bursts from her.
"Mum..." I attempt to explain, running my hand back through my hair as the words die on my lips. She's is zooming in on the photo—on Edward's bare chest! "Oh my god! Please stop!" I plead with her.
Chuckling, she pulls herself to her feet. "Don't worry, I'll make sure your father doesn't see it."
Once she leaves, I flop back against my bed, running my hands over my forehead and through my hair in complete and utter exasperation. Surely getting a convincing date to the farewell is not worth this? Hell, even one-upping Jessica Stanley can't be worth it.
Closing my eyes, I groan loudly to myself, only to be cut off by my message alert tone.
Grabbing it impatiently, I click it open. It's a text from Edward.
Get over here, snotface. We have to take selfies. Midget's orders.
Not going to happen. I reply.
Or I'll come there. Is his thinly veiled threat complete with a winking emoji.
I'll be there in 5. I immediately cave and type back a little too hastily, but I definitely don't want him anywhere near my mother at the moment.
Wear something hot, he adds.
Go fuck yourself!
Isn't that your job now? Yeah, he's really enjoying this, and in a fit of frustration I toss my phone to my carpeted floor and pull myself begrudgingly to my feet.
Changing out of my school uniform, I dress into the most modest outfit I own.
"What are you, a nun?" Is how Edward addresses me the moment he opens the door. "It's thirty-eight degrees outside and you're wearing a—what the hell is this? A cardigan?" He grabs me by the sleeve of it and drags me through the door.
I shove him off me. "Hurry up and let's get this over with."
He snorts and attempts to grab my hand.
I immediately pull it from him and elbow him further away from me. "What are you doing? —don't touch me!"
"Don't touch you?" he echoes, a brow pulling high in direct challenge me, and in the next moment, he bends down and throws me over his shoulder.
"Edward!" I immediately protest, slipping down his back and needing to grip his work shirt to prevent myself from hitting the tiled floor headfirst. "Put me down—Alice!"
"She's not home," he fills me in smugly, carrying me into his bedroom as if I weigh a bag of sugar. "Just you and me, snotface."
Bending forward, he drops me on his bed, planting his hands on either side of my head and leaning over me. His face is so close to mine I can smell the Coco Pops still on his breath. "Stop bitching or this is going to be a long afternoon." And before pulling back, he flicks me in the forehead.
Flustered, I push him from me, sitting myself upright as I do. "Can you stop manhandling me? We're not kids anymore—it's assault!"
"It's assault, is it?" he mocks me, scoffing his obvious amusement through his nose before he yanks on my cardi. "Take this off."
"No." I pull it tighter around me.
"I am not taking a photo with you looking like this!" he insists, placing his index finger to my chest, and when I look down at it, he flicks my face.
I huff. "Can you not act like a bloody infant for once?"
He smirks and sits beside me. "You can take it off and get this shit over in five minutes, or leave it on and hang with me all night. Your choice."
Exhaling heavily, I begrudgingly remove my cardigan and throw it at him.
He catches it and bring it to his nose. "Where the hell did you even get this? The lawn bowl raffles?"
"Funny," I retort dryly, folding my arms across my chest.
"Geez, stop sulking—you know how many girls would love to be in your shoes right now?" he says, flopping down next to me and draping his arm around my shoulders.
I shrug him off. "You're so up yourself."
"You're such a virgin," he responds in kind, placing his arm back round me. "You wanna do this or not?" he puts to me just as I'm about to elbow him.
"Hurry the fuck up, then!" I snap.
"I love it when you talk dirty to me, baby," he teases against my ear just as I openly cringe and shove him back.
"Where's your phone!" I attempt to sway him off course.
"Charging. Where's yours?"
"I didn't bring it."
"Well"—he pulls me back against the bed with him—"we'll just have to wait until mine's charged."
"Forget it, I'll get mine." I move to pull away from him again, when he drags me back.
"Jesus, snotface, relax already!" He sounds exasperated suddenly. "I'm not going to bite."
"I'm not comfortable doing this," I mumble, folding my arms across my chest again as I grudgingly lie beside him; his arm is still draped loosely around me.
"Why not?" he puts to me, turning to gaze at me. "I've known you your entire life, there's nothing I haven't seen, so what do you think I'm going to do?"
I snort and come close to laughing. "You have tormented me my entire life."
He laughs lightly. "Not always. Remember our sleep-overs in the treehouse, and the time you told me you had a crush on Tyler—what's-his-face?"
I immediately groan from the memory and cover my face with both my hands. "Oh god..."
His laughter increases before he suddenly pulls the two of us upright. "Come on," he grabs my hand, "let's get something to eat. I'm starving."
He tugs me after him into the kitchen, and releasing my hand, he disappears behind the pantry door.
"What do you feel like?" he asks without resurfacing.
"Nothing," I reply.
"Watching your weight?" he decides to mock me again.
"No, I'm just not hungry," I insist, imitating his tone as he steps back into the kitchen holding a packet of Arnott's Assorted Creams.
"How are you not diabetic—or grossly overweight?" I ask him in near disbelief as I sit at the kitchen table opposite him and watch him devour the entire packet.
"I work it off," he says with an overly-suggestive wink.
Shaking my head to myself, I don't reply.
"If we're going to this dance thing together you need to stop reacting to me like I'm going to roofie you," he speaks up after a moment with a mouth full of biscuit. "Or you'll blow our cover."
I scoff and glance momentarily away from him. "I don't think you're going to roofie me."
"So, what's your problem?"
"You're an asshole," I say candidly, and of course, he finds this hilarious.
"I only screw with you because I know it irritates you."
"Why do you want to irritate me?"
He half-shrugs. "You're funny."
I huff, but again, I don't reply. Maybe because going around and around in circles with him is exhausting.
"You need to be more like Alice and start slapping me," he adds, and when I raise a questioning brow, he elaborates. "That would turn me on."
I slap the table instead, loudly, and of course, he only laughs. "Would you stop it?"
"So, what happened with Mike wanker what's-his-name today?" he asks after his laughter dies down.
"Nothing," I answer with a small smile.
"He give you any shit?"
"No."
"Really?" He sounds disappointed.
"Really."
"Bugger."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"Yeah—I wanted a reason to beat the shit out of him."
"Are you serious?" I ask after a moment of gazing at him. "Why?"
"'Cause he's a dickhead who broke up with his girl because she wouldn't fuck him."
"Did Alice tell you that!?" I exclaim when I can find my voice, and I'm beyond mortified.
He smirks, and scoffs shortly to himself. "I'm not an idiot, you know. I can read between the lines."
"Well...just mind your own bloody business," I mumble too defensively, and covering my face as it burns hotly.
He chuckles. "Snotface, are you blushing?"
"No!"
Getting out of his chair with a loud scrape he moves beside me and pulls my hands free. I immediately shove him back but he takes it as permission to force them free.
"Edward, just stop it!" I snap, losing my patience.
He gauges me for a moment, his drawling smirk pulling back across his face again. "You're pretty cute when you're angry."
"What?" I say blankly, shaking my head to myself, but he's so completely frustrating.
"Jesus, just come on." Grabbing my hand he pulls me from the table, only release me a moment later to hook his elbow around my neck, where I find my face once again squashed against his chest.
By the time we're back in his room I'm covered in the combined scent of deodorant, sweat and woodchips. I'll have to shower the second I get home before my mother catches wind of it.
"Couldn't you have showered? I smell like man-sweat!" I protest.
"Man sweat..." he echoes me, taking a whiff of himself and throwing me a strange look. "This is what men are supposed to smell like."
I roll my eyes and sit down on the edge of the bed. "So how we gonna do this?"
He drops down beside me and once more hangs his arm heavily over my shoulders. "Hmm...shall we kiss?"
"No," I immediately assert.
He scoffs beneath his breath and nudges my teasingly. "Come on, imagine psycho Jessica's response if we do."
"I am not kissing you just to get to Jessica Stanley," I insist.
"Stubborn..." he mutters. "You're going to have to kiss me sooner or later, you know."
"How so?" I ask, uncertain of his meaning.
He scoffs a second time. "So, you're really not going to kiss me once at this dance thing?"
"Do I have to?"
He half shrugs a shoulder, and smirks to himself again. "You're fine letting everyone think you show me your tits, but you're not going to kiss me—really?"
"Show you my tits?" I screech as he deliberately cringes away from me. "I had my bra on!"
"I could so totally see the outline of them underneath it, you know," he admits, his entire expression turning shrewd, and while I'm staring at him dumbfounded, he adds to my humiliation. "You need to wear those padded ones. You can't see shit undern—"
I shove him from me forcefully only for him to laugh.
"Christ, I'm only messing with you, snotface."
"Okay, I'll make a deal with you," I propose, my voice tense, because I really would like to smack him one. He raises his brows, looking moderately interested and I continue, "I'll kiss you at the Farewell only if you stop calling me snotface."
"Kiss me or not, it's your reputation, not mine. I don't mind if anyone knows I'm taking you as a pity date."
"Oh my god!" I explode, pulling myself brashly to my feet. "I'm going home!" I take a single step away from him when he reaches out and grabs my hand.
"Okay, drama queen," he says dryly, "I won't call you snotface anymore. Happy?"
With a begrudging huff, I cave and sit back down beside him. "One snotface and it's over. Deal?"
"All right, but everyone will know this shit between us is all an act."
"I'll just tell them all I have the shits with you," I counter.
He gauges me for a moment, looking completely unconvinced. "Righto, now shut the hell up and stay put for a moment." Leaning over to his bedside table, he yanks the power cord from his phone and opens his camera. "Now try not to act like I have leprosy—kay," he says, pulling me closer to him and holding out his phone to take several photos. "Christ, snot-," he pulls himself up at the last minute as he flicks through the pics he'd taken. "Can you at least smile?"
"I was smiling," I grumble.
He tosses the phone on his bed and turns to me. "Have you forgotten I'm doing all this for you? So you won't rock up desperate and dateless to your dance in front of that little ass-shit of an ex-boyfriend?"
"No," I murmur petulantly.
"Well, stop being a pain in the neck." And placing his splayed hand to my face he shoves me.
"I would if you'd stop taking every opportunity to laugh at me over it," I retort, shoving his hands away.
"It's funny," he says simply.
"Just hurry up and take the bloody photo!"
"Stop being such an ingrate and cooperate!"
"I'm willingly subjecting myself to all your ridicule over this—I'm not ungrateful!" I burst.
"Jesus Christ, is this what babysitting your little brother feels like?"
"I don't terrorise my little brother," I point out.
Rolling his eyes, Edward drops his head and pushes the heel of his palm into his forehead. "All right," he appears to conclude, then curving his elbow around my neck once more he lays me back with him on his bed. And before I can protest, he starts snapping photos.
"Edward..." I attempt to resist him, when he stops, drops his phone and turns to me, holding me still.
"If you don't stop bitching and get this shit done, I'm going to kiss you," he warns me.
"Um, that's sexual assault..." I retaliate, when he immediately leans himself over me and presses his lips to mine, effectively rendering me mute.
It takes a lot longer to collect my bearings and shove him off me, but I'm flustered more than I'm angry, and I'm angry at myself for allowing him to fluster me.
"That's not funny!" I fume, sitting upright on his bed as my face flames in equal parts anger and frustration.
"I warned you," he replies with indifference.
I whip my head to him even as my eyes steadily fill with tears. "When did this become a game to molest me and see me in my bra? You should be bloody incarcerated!"
He gazes at me for several moments, his brow quirked as if I'm confusing him. "Snotface..." he begins when past patience I pull myself to my feet and vacate his room.
He catches up to me in the lounge room, grabbing my hand and turning me to him. "Hey..." His voice is softer, a tinge of remorse reflecting in it, "I'm sorry, snot—Bella. I'm sorry, Bella," he amends. "I just thought after a year with that wanker Newton you'd be a little more...at ease and wouldn't be so uptight. I dunno—Christ, is he a virgin too?"
"What?" I utter in complete and utter bewilderment, but before I can continue a small smile begins to curve on his lips.
"He was, and shit...that makes sense." The asshole actually snorts to himself, and fights the urge to all out laugh.
"What...what is the matter with you?" I demand, shaking my head.
"I'm sorry," he drags a hand through his hair to the back of his neck, "I just forgot that you were so...innocent?"
"Innocent?" I repeat, unable to wrap my brain around this guy. "So, you thought helping me out meant getting yourself off as well, did you?"
"What? —of course not!" He yanks the same hand forward through his hair in obvious frustration while making a mayhem out of it. "What the hell do you think of me?"
"I'm not sure."
"I'm just messing with you, Bella. I didn't realise you were so bloody innocent and would react this w—"
"Stop calling me innocent!" I demand feeling my face flash boldly. "I'm not innocent!"
He pauses for a moment, his breath pushing stiffly through his nose, before he props both hands on his hips. "You ask me to pretend we're fucking, and then to take you to your fucking end of year shit-thing as your bloody boyfriend, and now you're acting like I'm trying to fucking rape you—Jesus!"
I open my mouth to argue back, when he places his first two fingers to my forehead and pushes me back toward the front door.
"You're just a little kid—get out of here." Then turning his back on me, he walks back in the direction of his bedroom.
"You started this, Edward! You were the one who bullshitted about us all over Facebook!" I yell back at him as he holds up his middle finger in response and keeps walking. "And yeah, pardon me for being a virgin!"
"Go home," he says moments before his bedroom door slams.
"I am not innocent!"
A/N: was bound to happen... See you next Saturday, Australian Eastern Standard Time.