A/N: Shithead has been taking to me - a lot. So, I thought I'd be decent and do a quick update. If I stay this far ahead with the chapters I'll try and update more frequently than once a week.
This chapter is edited by me, so if I use repetitive words or my commas are a bit skewered, don't roll your eyes too much. Kim will get to them soonish.
Thanks to Starry8 and Amanda for pre-reading. Sorry, biebs, for leaving you hanging ;)
Hoodwinked
Chapter 5
"Sweetie," my mother says, poking her head into my room exactly half a second after knocking twice, "Edward's here." Her expression is as enthusiastic as it's been since I told her about "us" only now it's fit to bursting with the knowledge that he's apparently on our doorstep.
"What?" I reply, unable to mask the annoyance from my voice. "Why is he picking me up?" I wonder out loud, brushing past my mother to see for myself whether he's really here.
He is.
He's waiting in the foyer, and while I stare at him unashamedly for several awkward moments, he turns, catches my gaze and winks. In response I blink vacantly and promptly turn my back on him and return to my bedroom.
"Tell him I'll be out in a sec," I mumble, knowing my face is flushing as boldly as I can feel it.
"He looks so handsome!" My mother feels the need to fill me in and for once I agree with her.
He does.
I'm used to seeing him in his work wear, his dirty workwear, with his hair a mess, but right now he looks...nice. He's wearing a blue checked shirt, a decent pair of jeans, and either he's had his hair cut, or he decided to comb it—and wash it.
It's Friday night and we're going to the movies with Alice and Jas. It was Alice's idea, of course. To get us out in public was her reasoning. It's our first real test. At least, my first real test.
I'm not ready, and I'm kicking myself for making the decision to avoid him yesterday. I decided to go late night shopping with my mother for sexy underwear (for me) instead of allowing Edward to get me up to scratch; as he'd promised in his message Wednesday night. He decided to punish me for being a no-show by tagging me in all manner of suggestive Facebook posts; that my mother later saw, and then wanted me to elaborate on. I threatened to take out Mr Doobee for good this time, but of course, he only laughed and completely twisted it in order to torture me more.
"Do you still have those condoms I gave you?" my mother asks covertly in my ear as I practically jump out of my skin.
"Mum!" I burst, before being forced to lower my voice. "It's not like that."
"Oh, honey..." She's laughing beneath her breath completely unconvinced, but since Edward did allude to the fact that I give good head...
God, I'm going to kill him.
"Why are you here?" I demand the second after dragging him back through the front door.
"What?" he asks feigning innocence. "I'm supposed to pick you up. Besides, your mother loves me." He chuckles to himself, deliberately pushing it through his nose like he often does. Just to stir me.
"I could have met you at your house," I say with a huff, and that's where I'm heading when he suddenly curves his arm around my shoulders and turns me to the left.
"This way, snotface," he says, motioning to his car parked out front. His black Ford Ranger that looks just as dirty as he often does.
"I...I thought we were all going in Alice's car?" I stammer, hesitating for a second as he ushers me forward again.
"That piece of crap? Christ, I don't know about you, but I do value my life." He opens the passenger side door and motions for me to get in.
"Am I going to need a ladder?" I assert, gazing at it dubiously for a moment.
"Here, Rapunzel," he says dryly, taking my hand and helping me to the step as I climb awkwardly inside.
After pulling himself into the driver's side a moment later, he turns to me. "You look pretty decent, snotface."
"If you call me snotface..." I begin through clenched teeth when he tugs my hair, effectively cutting me off.
"Lighten up. I'm only kidding." He laughs. "But I'm serious, you look nice." He slots his key into the ignition and turns over the engine with a sly smirk on his face. "Almost like a girl."
I only exhale into an irritated huff but decide not to take the bait.
"So, what happened yesterday?" he puts to me after five minutes of silence as he drives.
"My mum took me shopping," I answer simply, gazing out the window in hopes he won't see the bullshit on my expression.
"You were avoiding me," he concludes.
"I wasn't," I insist, and when I turn to glance at him, it's obvious he's not buying it.
"Sure you weren't," he says lightly, all too self-assured.
"What was with all those Facebook posts you tagged me in, by the way?"
The grin lights up on his face again even as he keeps his eyes on the road. "Just making up for lost time."
"You know my mother sees my wall, don't you?"
"What?" He glances at me, his green eyes reflecting his obvious amusement before he eventually laughs. "And she still likes me. Interesting..."
"Yeah, she thinks you're a total spunk," I say dryly, watching as his grin broadens.
"You're old lady has good taste."
"Oh my god," I mutter.
"What about you?" he puts to me, flicking on his indicator to change lanes.
"What about me?"
"Do you think I'm a spunk?"
"Of course I don't," I state unequivocally, but it's a lie. There's nothing subjective about it; the shithead is handsome.
"So, you think I'm ugly," he replies without skipping a beat.
I roll my eyes. "You're not ugly."
"I'm not ugly, but I'm not a spunk. Hm..."
"Stop fishing. You're head's already the size of China."
"One out of ten."
"What?"
"Where do I rank?"
"I'm not—"
"Seriously," he interjects. "I'll do you."
"Let me guess, a two?" I pre-empt him drolly.
He laughs through his nose again as if he thinks everything that comes out of my mouth is hilarious. "Not even close."
"One?"
"Nine," he counters simply, and completely surprising me in the process.
"What?" I utter blankly.
"Sure." He glances at me and smiles, and there's only a hint of smart ass behind it.
"Nine?" I repeat, unconvinced.
"Nine," he insists.
"Why am I a nine?"
He deliberately sighs. "Nice hair, those cheekbones, pretty eyes, kissable lips—even though you're shit at it—"
"Shut up!"
He laughs again. He has a nice laugh. It's smooth. "You just are."
"So why aren't I a ten?" I probe.
"Your tits are too small," he replies candidly.
"They're not small!" I decide to argue with him. I have no idea why, because there's no denying I wear an A-cup.
"Yeah they are."
I huff my breath forcefully as my face flames. I know he's only stirring me but I have the sudden compulsion to cover myself. I don't, though. He'll notice. "Don't forget I saw you completely naked a few days ago. You shouldn't be calling anyone small."
A full grin quickly spreads across his face. "You think I'm small?"
"Yes." I've let him drag me into a childish back-and-forth that's completely one-sided. Meaning I've left myself open for more torture.
He appears to contemplate it for a moment. "Okay...but compared to who?"
I open my mouth to reply, but I'm jarred, and by the not-so-subtle smirk replacing his grin we both know I've just been check-mated.
I have to face it, there's just no out-smartassing him.
Not that I ever stood a chance.
He laughs again.
"So, what about me?" he prompts me at a red light, half a minute later.
"What about you?" I reply begrudgingly.
"One out of ten..."
I sigh and rub my forehead, but decide to humour him. I contemplate it, knowing if I tell him he's a nine he'll think I'm just copying him without any thought behind it. If I tell him he's a ten, though, he'll remind me of it for the rest of my life. And I can't tell him he's an eight; his ego will never stand for it.
"It can't be that hard," he says when I fail to answer him. "I'm a ten. You can admit it."
"You are not a ten!"
"Then what am I?" He feigns frustration.
Mine's genuine. "Okay, you're a bloody spunk—are you happy?"
He is, and he wears that damned smirk on his face all the way to the cinema.
"Would you stop looking so pleased with yourself," I demand as he helps me out of his car, his hands under my arms as if I were a five-year-old. In my defence his car is huge and I practically fell out against him anyway.
"What?" He puts on the innocent act before pulling me closer to him and curling his arm around my shoulders.
I let him. Half our school comes to the mall on a Friday night and this is basically a dress rehearsal.
He leads me towards the escalators and once we're out of the underground carpark, and on the bottom floor of the mall, we pass a large group of people; several of them girls. Girls who know Edward; girls who look me deliberately up and down, before they all chorus out a similar greeting to him.
"Hey," he replies, and for a moment I'm sure he's going to stop and chat, but he doesn't. Instead, he releases his hand from around me and grabs my hand; tugging me along with him.
"Do your fangirls follow you everywhere?" I tease him wryly as we leave the mall onto the courtyard that leads to the cinema.
He immediately grins. "I can't help it if I'm popular."
In response I snort. "Popular? You're a total whore."
"Whore? I'll have you know that I have just come out of a long term, monogamous relationship with Lauren Mallory." And with the same hand clutching mine—and without letting it go—he wraps it around my shoulders again.
"Rosalie Hale?" I remind him, because God knows she told everyone.
"She was before Lauren," he clarifies. "I met her at a party. She was pissed, I was pissed... She was pretty lousy in the sack, if I recall." He smirks again and breaks into a chuckle that's entirely to himself.
"Not the way she tells it," I say. "Apparently you were so in love with her beauty."
His brow quirks, and he snorts in contradiction. "If you go for that playboy bunny type."
I'm more satisfied that he wasn't into Rosalie than I'd like to admit.
"So, Lauren and Rosalie? Is that all?"
"And...my boss's daughter," he admits simply.
"How are you not sacked?" I ask in disbelief, making him chuckle again.
"I made sure her old man didn't find out."
"So, three. Really?" I put to him, unconvinced.
"Four."
"Four?"
"Emily," he adds.
"Emily...who?"
"I don't know her last name, but she was that girl."
"That girl?" I echo puzzled.
"The girl I lost it to," he explains, glancing down at me.
"Hm," I say, contemplating it further. "So, the great Edward Cullen has only been with four girls."
"How many did you think?"
"Well, I thought bad boys had tons of girls, not a handful."
"Who said I was a bad boy?"
"You did."
"I was stirring midget." It's obvious he enjoys this banter with me, the grin has barely left his lips. "What about you—how many?"
"Don't be a smartass," I nudge him, and this time he laughs beneath his breath.
"How long are you going to be wearing that chastity belt your old man has around you?"
Pulling my hand from his, I elbow him. "It's not like that," I insist. "It just hasn't felt right."
"You know, they say you should get it out of the way with someone you trust. That way they'll look after you," he leans down and says against my ear, the innuendo behind his words blatant. This is despite the fact that he's completely laughing at me again.
I stomp on his foot, or attempt to anyway, but naturally he anticipated me and completely avoided it. "Get it—first of all, I don't want to get it out of the way like it's a bloody tetanus shot! I'm waiting for the right person."
"It's never the right person the first time. Believe me, you'll never want to see them again."
"Speaking from experience?" I ask, raising a brow.
"Pretty much."
"Terrible, were you?" I tease him, and I'm a little surprised by how honest he's being.
He catches my gaze and smiles, but this time it's kind of ironic. "I was, yeah."
I suck in my breath, mocking him. "So, he's human after all."
With his arm still draped around my neck, he squeezes me. "I got it right the second time."
"You are so vain," I retort as he continues to laugh lightly to himself. "So, why'd you break up with Lauren?"
"She was screwing around," he answers casually. Way too casually.
I stop and turn to him squarely. "Really?"
"Yes, really."
"Who with?" We begin walking again. I can see Alice in the distance with Jas and a group of people from our year.
He shrugs. "Some friend of her brother. I dunno."
His tone has dropped and I discreetly peek up at him. He's not giving anything away, but he definitely sounds...bothered.
"Did you love her?" I ask as my tone inadvertently softens.
"I thought I did," he answers, and again, it's way too simple.
"So, you know what it's like to get dumped and yet you totally gave me shit on Monday," I remind him, recalling my offense to it.
He scoffs. "Yeah, but I mean, Mike Newton?" he cocks a dubious brow in deliberate emphasis. "He's a fuckwit. You can do so much better than him, Bella."
Bella...?
I open my mouth to reply, unsure of what to say, when Alice calls us over.
She introduces Edward to the several people who don't know him as my boyfriend. In return he's friendly, not the obnoxious shithead I'm used to seeing, before he releases his arm from around me to greet Jas. The two of them disappear while I spend the majority of the time staring down at my feet.
"I have a theory, snotface," Edward murmurs in my ear roughly twenty minutes later, wrapping his arm around my neck and offering me a bite of his half-eaten Snicker's bar.
I shake my head, waving it away as I turn to him. "What theory?" I ask suspiciously.
"That you're in love with me," he answers covertly in my ear so he won't be overheard, and grabbing my hand, he pulls me off to the side.
I huff and almost laugh, incredulous. "Please tell me you're joking?"
"Nope." He shakes his head once. "I've been watching you this whole time acting like this quite little mouse, all red faced and shy..."
"What's your point?" I demand, attempting to keep my voice hushed.
"You're not like that with me," he gives away the punchline way too confidently.
I scoff out how ridiculous it is. "That's because I don't see you as a member of the opposite sex."
He doesn't react like I expect him to. "Nope," he repeats in that over-confidence of his.
"What? Yes!" I counter.
He shakes his head again. "You said I'm a spunk, remember?" he reminds me.
"You said I'm a nine out of ten." We're back to this banter again. That I'm going to lose.
"You are." He shrugs nonchalantly.
"So, are you in love with me?" I raise my brows, emphasising my point, and of course he only smirks.
"The difference is, my entire personality doesn't change around you. Yours does."
I open my mouth to reply but I quickly shut it; realising he's completely stumped me again. "I'm the same way around you as I am with Alice. I've just known you both forever," is my feeble counter-argument.
His smirk broadens, his laughter muffled through his nose, as he drapes his arm around my shoulders again and draws me close. "By the way," he says against my ear, "deadshit and psycho Stanley are here."
"What?" I immediately tense.
"Don't look!" he orders me as I'm about to do just that. "Remember what I said. If you act all virgin and make a dick out of me..." he abandons it, only to elaborate on it with a cocked brow.
"Would you stop saying virgin every bloody two seconds!" I snap, just barely managing to keep it beneath my breath. He was so nice not long ago, too. Now he's back to being a complete shithead.
"So, could you talk to Newton like you can with me?" he decides to continue to annoy me.
I sigh in resignation because there really is no point arguing with him. "I told you, I can only talk to you and Alice this way."
"Does he still bother you?" he asks almost casually after a moment.
I gaze up at him just in time to see him wink at someone in the crowd. "What the hell are you doing?"
He glances down at me, looking way too sure of himself. "Giving psycho something to write about in her diary."
"Oh my god." I drop my head to my palm as he pulls me flush against his chest.
"Put your arms around me," he instructs softly against my ear.
"Don't kiss me," I warn him; he scoffs.
"As if I'm that stupid." Without waiting for me to comply, he grabs both my wrists and wraps them around his waist. "Would you relax?"
I sigh heavily. "Are they gone?"
"They're hanging with the losers," he replies lightly leaning his chin on the top of my head. "They both keep looking over at us, though." He suddenly snorts back his laughter.
"Good," I mumble, more than liking the idea of it, and for the first time, I'm seeing this plan of Alice's as a definite positive.
"You know, I'm going to beat the shit out of Newton if I get him alone, don't you," he informs me, sounding almost serious.
"No, you're not."
"You reckon?"
"Aren't you a bit old for that now?"
"There's a code."
"What code?"
"I have to kill anyone who fucks over my sister or her best friend."
"You just made that up," I accuse him, pulling back to meet his eyes.
"As your boyfriend it's my job to eliminate any asshole who upsets you." He raises his eyebrows.
"You aren't my boyfriend," I point out, though I make sure to lower the tone of my voice when I say that.
"Until the dance, I am," he reminds me.
I sigh again as he pulls me back against him. "You must still like him."
"I do not. He's a complete wanker," I say a little too passionately.
"Then why don't you want me to hurt him?"
"Because then he'll know he upset me."
"Hmm..." he muses. "Fair point. Okay, I'll make it seem like an accident."
I only groan just fractionally beneath my breath just as Alice grabs my hand.
"Okay break it up, you two," she says, raising her voice just high enough for people outside our group to hear. "You guys are convincing more than Just Mike and Jessica," she adds furtively, sounding impressed. "All the guys have never seen you so relaxed before, Bells."
"That's 'cause she's in love with me," Edward quickly inserts as I elbow him in the ribs. He laughs and Alice along with him.
"Anyway, we're going to buy the snacks. You coming?" she puts to the both of us as though we were a single unit.
"What about the tickets?" I ask as Edward pulls two from his pocket and flicks my forehead with them.
"You didn't have to buy me one," I insist.
"Geez, if you're going to go all feminist on me you can buy the food." He rolls his eyes.
Alice pulls me toward the Candy Bar while Edward heads in the opposite direction.
"Where's he going now?" I wonder out loud.
"Stop stressing, girl," Alice teases me. "If looks could kill, you'd be road kill right now," she suddenly relays in my ear at the popcorn dispenser.
"Huh?" I ask, pulling open a medium-sized box to fill.
"Jessica is so totally death-staring you." She giggles.
I smirk, and I'm more than enjoying it.
"Is that all you're getting?" Edward is beside me again, pulling the popcorn from my hands.
"I thought I'm buying the food," I remind him.
"Will you stop bitching—geez!" he mutters as I spy all the snacks he's carrying for himself. He has an armful, and I'm suddenly grateful he's deciding to play gentleman.
"If I ate that much sugar my face would explode," I grumble as Edward hands the cashier a fifty dollar note.
He chuckles and leads me toward the usher collecting the tickets. "Well, we can't all be blessed. Grab them out of my pocket."
"What?"
"The tickets, they're in my pocket," he explains, attempting to look over the mountain of popcorn, drinks and chocolate he's carrying to his jeans.
"...But..."
"Jesus, Bella, since when are you so shy!" he raises his voice suddenly for the benefit of the group passing us as the usher smirks to himself.
"Please kill me," I mutter beneath my breath, quickly slipping my palm into his front pocket to grab them; making sure to avoid anything else.
"Cinema one," the usher directs us, ripping the tickets in half and handing me back the two stubs.
"You're having way too much fun with all this, aren't you?" I mutter to Edward as we make our way into the cinema.
"Hey, my reputation is on the line too you know," he says. "What row are we in?"
"Third from the back," I answer, smoothing out the crumbled tickets in my fists.
We're in the love seat, the two seats without an armrest between them, and I'm immediately suspicious. "Did you pick these seats deliberately?" I demand in barely a whisper; the cinema is close to being full, after all, and we're surrounded by too many people from school.
"Of course, I did," he replies, oozing with self-assurance as usual. "Pull my phone out of by back pocket, will you?"
I pause for a brief moment, then sighing quietly beneath my breath, I remove his phone the same way I did the tickets.
He's doing this on purpose.
"Why aren't we sitting with Alice and Jas?" I ask, begrudgingly sitting beside him and allowing him to drape his arm around my shoulders.
"I can't feel you up in front of my sister," he answers, closing the distance between us. "That's just fucked up!"
"Edward!" I burst a little too loudly, earning several scoffs and snickers from behind us. I glance over my shoulder and suddenly finding myself eye-to-eye with my scowling ex-boyfriend. "Great," I mutter.
"What are you bitching about now?" Edward asks leaning so close to me he's practically making contact with my earlobe.
"They're behind us," I whisper back.
"Yeah?" His brow raises and he's clearly impressed with the fact they are.
"Don't look!" I warn him.
"I don't need to," he smirks, "but it means you have to let me kiss you."
"Edward..." I complain.
"You just have to relax—and open your mouth a little bit," he murmurs while his eyes zero in on my lips. "Just don't peak on me."
I don't reply; I'm not sure I can, and for the next half-hour I sit and wait both nervously and full of anticipation for him to make a move. The worst of it is I'm not sure what I'm feeling more, but I'm starting to think it's the latter. That's not to say he doesn't torment me, because he does. He steals my popcorn then decides to feed it to me; he smudges my cheek with his choc-top and attempts to lick it back off; and lastly, he slides him hands a little too further along my inner thigh.
"Stop it!" I demand in a harsh whisper, forcing his hands back and elbowing him in the ribs, and of course, he only chuckles. "Are you even watching the movie?"
"Why would I when watching you is better?" He arches a single brow, as I roll my eyes.
"Has that ever worked on anyone?" I say dubiously.
"You'd be surprised."
"I'd be shocked."
"I must be rubbing off on you, snotface. You're becoming a pretty decent smartass."
"Don't call me snotface!" I snap, struggling to keep my voice low.
He groans only half beneath his breath. "It's been what? An hour? You're not even close to being relaxed. How the hell am I supposed to grope you when you're stiffer than a corpse?"
"You grope me and I'll machete Mr Doobee!" I threaten him and I'm not joking. Kissing him is one thing but he's pushing the bloody limits. "I thought you were going to kiss me?!" Yeah, that comes out all wrong, and of course shithead takes every opportunity to rub it in.
"Getting antsy, are you?" he drawls, his smirk growing broad. "See, I knew you were in love with me," he adds after rendering me speechless.
I only huff, elbowing him again to increase the distance between us. He scoffs and tosses a handful of popcorn at me in response, and pretty soon my anticipation becomes frustration.
That's when he makes his move.
We're at the halfway point of the movie when he curls his arm around my shoulders and eases close to me again. That seems to be all there is to it, when a couple of minutes later he starts to play with my hair with his free hand, tucking it behind my ears. Then, leaning slowly toward me, he plants his warm lips to the curve of my neck and shoulder in a way that immediately makes my skin prickle and my breath shorten. Mike never made me react to him like this; not in the nine months of his clumsy, over eager advances.
He kisses me again, slowly and just below my ear before his palm slides to my cheek, turning my head to face him.
I open my mouth to speak. I'm not sure why but before I can figure it out, he takes my parted lips with his. There's not much to it at first. He kisses me briefly but tenderly before he pulls back slightly and kisses me again.
And then again.
And then again.
He tastes like chocolate, caramel, salted butter popcorn, and mint, and God, I quickly feel myself losing my head. It sounds like a ridiculous cliché, but all sound around us becomes muted—the movie, the audience, the sounds of wrappers crinkling—until the only thing I can hear is his breath and the sensation of his lips merging and parting repeatedly with mine. And my heart; my heart as it hammers loudly and heavily against my ribcage with each second that passes.
He doesn't break to tell me to relax or to open my mouth, and to be honest I'm not really conscious of whether I'm doing anything right or wrong. It's easy to simply let him lead me, and reacting to him is suddenly effortless. There's nothing forced on my part, or strained. When he opens his mouth, I open mine until it's not simply our movements that harmonise, but the rate our hearts and depth of our breath.
Naturally, something was always going to break us apart, and that something is the sensation of Edward's tongue as it slides against mine. It shocks me back to reality; it jolts me almost, and on impulse I sever from him and pull back.
He's staring at me, an almost shocked, raw expression encompassing his face. His lips are slightly parted, his breath pushing and pulling between them audibly before he breaks to moisten them. That's when they tug askew into that self-assured smirk of his, but I'm too flustered to properly react to him. And turning away I gaze vacantly at the giant screen before us as my pulse continues to flood my ears.
That's when I realise it. This movie we're watching? I have no idea what's happening.
A/N: thanks for reading :)
* "Pissed" on its own in Australian terms means drunk. He and Rosalie were both drunk, not both angry. Sorry, sometimes I forget people outside our island don't get our terms.