A/N: back to Bella... Thank you to Kim for her future beta job of this unedited chapter. *blushes* Yes, I jumped ahead to post it again. It's just because I'm late. And impatient. Thanks, as well, to StarryEyedWriter8 and Biebs.
Hope you enjoy.
Hoodwinked
Chapter 26
I keep Edward talking until four am, but by that time we're both struggling to stay awake. It's also when the noise from next door starts to quiet. Alice's party is dying down, and it's probably the best time to get Edward out of the house without my father finding out.
Renee promised to keep him in the dark about Edward's presence in my room, but I'm not about to take any chances. Not with my father.
"Hey," I say softly, gently nudging him. He's lying on his back, both arms folded above his head.
"Hmm...?" he mumbles from behind closed eyes and sounding just barely awake.
"You want to go back to your house?"
He squints an eye open, his brow heavily knotted. "Worried about your old man, are you?" he puts to me, his voice coarse and rustic, but my guess is he is too.
"Just a little bit," I admit.
He smiles, it's all adorable and sleepy, and awkwardly he pulls himself upright on my bed. "Okay..." He runs both hands back through his already dishevelled hair and groans; from pain more than to rouse himself, I assume. He's still in a world of it. "C'mon, then."
He's only wearing his underwear, and after carefully pulling him to his feet, I help him back into his black pants. The moment he's upright, though, he winces and hunches over, a hand immediately covering his badly bruised ribcage.
I almost jump out of my skin along with him. I absolutely detest that he's in so much pain.
"You want me to get you some more of my mother's painkillers?" I ask, gripping his arm tightly, worried his legs are about to buckle beneath him.
"Yeah..." he agrees, albeit reluctantly, and after sneaking into my parent's bathroom, I find my mother's stash of herbal remedies, pop two pills from its foil packaging and return to Edward.
He takes them, and just as he did earlier tonight, he immediately turns a horrible pasty colour.
"Are you okay?" I ask, filling with panic as I hastily search my room for the vomit bag the paramedic had given me.
"Fine..." His voice becomes a whisper, and he closes his eyes and practically sways.
"Christ, Edward..."
"You worry too much," he replies a minute later when he gets his colour back, and opening his eyes he smiles down at me. It's almost charming this time, but then his whole demeanour began to change tonight. He let his guard down; for a little while, at least.
"How would you feel if I had the crap beaten out of me?" I ask in an effort to explain my concern.
He only sighs and releases what sounds like every ounce of air in his lungs. "Stop being a pain in the neck." He tells me that more than snotface now.
"When you look like death, I will," I stubbornly reply. "Come on, spewfest."
His lips tug into an askew grin and he drapes an arm lazily around my shoulders. "Smartass," he bends down and murmurs against my ear.
Laughing lightly, and taking his hand, I lead him out of the house toward his.
Alice left the door unlocked, and in semi darkness we navigate our way to his room, sidestepping several unconscious bodies as we do. Edward had locked his bedroom door to prevent any unwelcome trespassers tonight, and pulling his keys from his pocket, he opens it, takes four steps and falls face first against his unmade bed.
"Bella..." he moans.
"Hmm?" I sit beside him and place my palm to his naked back.
"Stay with me," he whimpers.
"Okay, on one condition," I barter, and he groans this time.
"What...?"
"In the morning we go to the doctors."
"Monday," he counters. "I can't get an MRI on the weekend and I'm not spending eight hours waiting in the ER for one."
I sigh, but he has a point. "Okay, Monday."
"Come here," he mumbles, and grabbing my hand he drags me down against him, even as he pulls out all stops to prevent me from witnessing the amount of pain he's in.
Curling beside him, I reach out and clumsily pull his blanket over us. He sighs, and then again, heavier.
"Bella...?" Rolling to his back he curves an arm around me, and meticulously, I snuggle closer to him, remaining conscious of his battered body.
"Hmm...?" I reply, resting my arm across his stomach.
"Thanks for tonight. Looking after me, I mean."
"Isn't that what girlfriend's do?"
"Yeah." I can hear the smile on his lips even in the darkness. "Okay..." He releases his breath again.
"Okay... what?" I ask, turning to face him and leaning my chin against his shoulder.
"I've made a decision. I'm going to stop calling you snotface." He sounds almost sheepish, and for a moment or two I think I'm rendered speechless.
"What...?"
"You're not that girl anymore. At least, I don't see you that way anymore. I-I don't know..." he seems to conclude, sounding suddenly uncertain.
"...What does that mean? How do you see me?"
"Grown up," he replies, chuckling not nearly as under his breath as I think he meant.
I nudge him, but I know he's only teasing me. "Well, one of us has to be."
He laughs softly and half groans through it. "You're a pretty decent smart ass when you want to be."
"I learned from the master," I say ruefully.
"Yeah. I dunno..." he appears to concede behind another sigh. "I didn't honestly think it'd work between us. I'm an asshole and you're always bitching and getting screechy, but... you surprised me sno—Bella. Bella..." he repeats, speaking more or less to himself.
"Sure this isn't the concussion speaking?" I tease him, and in response he huffs.
"How come every time I'm nice to you, you think I'm under the influence of something?" he asks; though, he's not angry.
"Because you're always giving me crap." I give him the same standard answer.
"No I'm not..." he mumbles. "You just don't see it. Now shut up and go to sleep. You've kept me awake all night."
"You're not supposed to sleep while you have a concussion," I remind him.
"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm fine."
"You're just all ego," I mutter unconvinced, and reaching out, I clamp his nose, exactly like he does to me.
"Stop that..." Turning, he plants his heated lips to my temple. "Hey? Do me a favour?"
"Hmm?" I turn again and meet his eyes in the shadows of an almost-full moon.
"Don't ask me why. Okay?"
I know what he's referring to without him needing to elaborate, and after gazing at him for a moment, I nod my head. "Okay," I say, my voice dropping softly.
"I... feel the same way you do—that's all you need to know, 'kay?" He obviously feels the need to reassure me.
"I know," I reply squeezing him gently, because I do.
"I always have," he adds, sounding moments from sleep.
"I know," I imitate how he often answers, this time.
Air snorts from his nose as if he were going to laugh; instead, he groans again in obvious pain. "Stop talking." He's good natured about it, and so stretching up I kiss his lips briefly.
"Goodnight."
. . .
We both sleep like the dead until just after eleven am. Edward wakes first, pulling himself gingerly off the bed, unable to conceal the amount of pain he's still very clearly in. I wake up in an instant, and grab his hand to stop him.
"Edward, I'll get what you need, just stay still for today—okay?" I insist.
He glances at me over his shoulder, his expression becoming almost shrewd. "You gonna hold my dick for me?"
Expelling my breath, I release him and roll my eyes. "Want a coffee?"
He smiles, his expression softening with it. "Yeah. Make me breakfast?" He raises his brows, attempting to charm me.
"Sure," I agree, shaking my head because it's not as if he needs to.
Alice is up when I make my way into the kitchen, and most of the early morning stragglers have left.
"Hey," she says in a hopelessly hoarse voice.
"Hey," I reply.
"How's Edward?"
"He's okay—stiff and sore, but making out there's nothing wrong with him," I answer wryly.
"Of course..."
"Big one last night?" I ask, spooning sugar into the two mugs I pulled from the dishwasher.
"Pretty big. Someone puked on my bathroom floor—ugh..."
"Nice." I grimace as the image of Edward doing exactly that all over my feet passes through my mind. I didn't have the chance to freak out too much, though, because almost immediately he passed out cold, and never before in my life have I ever been so worried about him.
Mr Tough Guy isn't nearly as tough as he wants me to believe, but I've always been aware of that.
"Both Newtons spent the night in Emergency, apparently." She snorts, sipping her coffee and leaning up against the counter beside me.
"Serves them right. What happened to Lauren?" I ask in a small voice.
"Rose slapped her down," Alice replies, smirking from the memory that I'm beginning to regret I missed.
"Thanks, Al," I continue to mumble, feeling moderately ashamed of myself. Alice has fought my battles longer than what was ever necessary. "How's Jas?"
"Sporting a black eye—it's very sexy." She winks as I break into a grin.
"I'll take your word for it."
"Overall, I think it was a great night," she decides, shrugging a shoulder past anything else.
I can't really say I share her sentiments. If it was just a case of Edward beating up Mike, I would agree, but there's nothing great about a night that ended with Edward getting a concussion. "Yeah... Did my dad stop by last night?"
"No... Should he have?" Her expression knots in confusion.
"I was sure he'd check up on us—especially with your father away."
"I'm pretty responsible."
"Edward...?" I raise a pointed brow.
"Aside from the fact that he drinks too much on the weekends and he likes his pot, he's pretty responsible, too," she says, as we both share a very knowing grin.
"I think my Dad's just forgotten what it's like to be his age," I muse.
"He was a father at Edward's age, wasn't he?"
"Yes. God..." I shudder at the very idea of it. "Got any eggs?"
"Pretty sure." She tilts her head in the direction of the fridge. "What are you guys doing today?"
"Not much. I'm going to head to the chemist soon and get Edward some Neurofen."
"Can you pick up some Beroccas, too? Jas is pretty hungover."
"Sure. It wasn't him who threw up in your bathroom, was it?" I smirk.
"No, he made it to the toilet." She rolls her eyes.
I make Edward scrambled eggs on toast, and when I return to his room with it, I find him sitting up against the headboard of his bed smoking a joint. His eyes are closed and his head's angled toward the ceiling looking lost in his thoughts.
He groans languidly, his eyes remaining closed as smoke billows from his nostrils. "Smells great, brown eyes."
"Is it so hard to just call me Bella?" I say, sitting beside him and plonking the plate of breakfast on his lap.
"Thank you, Bella," he imitates me, bring the butt of the joint to my lips.
I shake my head and wave it away. "I'm going to get you some painkillers soon, and I don't want to be driving under the influence."
He sighs, no doubt thinking I'm a pain in the neck. "Just swipe your old lady's."
I don't reply, and while I sip my coffee, Edward digs into his food.
"Your dad won't freak out when he sees you like this, will he?" I ask reluctantly.
He groans for a different reason this time. "Probably—hey?"
"What?"
"What did Lauren do last night?" He's serious, I realise.
I briefly consider bullshitting to him before I answer honestly, "She accused me of fucking around with you when you were together, and then she shoved me over."
His expression darkens almost immediately before it knots with obvious guilt. "Shit..." he mutters.
I shrug. "It's fine."
"It's not. I started it with that post."
"Yeah, you did."
"Fuck, Bella... I'm an asshole sometimes."
"No, you're not," I assure him, nudging his shoulder with mine.
He grabs my hand and turns it over, revealing the graze on the heel of my palm. "So that's how you got this... When did it happen?" he asks, sounding almost resigned.
"When I was washing my feet."
"Fuck..." he echoes, rubbing his brow with suddenly rigid fingers.
"God, and you accuse me of getting bent out of shape," I attempt to placate him.
"Alright, so it's the day after the formal. All that shit is finished," he appears to conclude resolutely, and I pause uncertain of his meaning.
"...What has...?"
"All that pretending bullshit. It's finished."
"I thought it was finished Wednesday when we went to the beach?" I remind him.
"It was, but this whole thing started with the formal, so it's done. Today's day one."
"All right," I mumble, my confusion remaining static.
"Jesus, Bella." He's frustrated, but over what I'm not sure.
"What?"
"The last two weeks have been cancelled out. All that shit... and fighting with you... It's irrelevant."
"Okay... so what are we now?"
"You're no longer my snotface." He shrugs and draws back deeply on his joint while I only stare at him.
"Then... what am I?"
He breaks into a grin and clamps my nose, and it's very clear that I'm amusing him. "You're Bella."
"Edward!" I snap, impatient by how cryptic he's being.
He sighs and half groans with it in open exasperating this time. "From now on, you're my girlfriend with no fucking clauses attached to it. We're gonna relax and fuck every day. I'm no longer gonna give you shit like I'm still ten, and you're not going to get all needy and screechy. Deal?"
"Okay..." I reply, making a gallant effort to keep the scepticism from my voice. I'm not sure what to make of it, but I agree regardless. "But, Edward... we've been over this half a million times already. You can call me snotface."
Curving his elbow around my neck he pulls me to him. "Were you listening, you pain in the neck? —everything we said to each other since I made that Facebook post and up until last night, no longer matters."
I push off him and gauge him closely. "Friday night no longer matters?"
"Okay, maybe except that." He grins devilishly before it inevitably falls. "It's just... I feel like we bullshitted everything up with that whole plan in the beginning."
"Hmm, but it got us to this moment," I point out.
"Yeah, with me getting the shit beat out of me, and Lauren almost doing the same thing to you," he mutters dryly.
"Okay." I release my breath and let it go. I'm still not entirely sure of his meaning, but he's obviously serious, and he very rarely is, so I humour him. "The last two weeks have been wiped out."
"Good." He sounds satisfied, and turning back to his breakfast he shovels another forkful of scrambled egg into his mouth.
"Apart from Friday night," I amend, as he grins to himself.
"Yeah, apart from Friday night."
"And the hotel room," I add, as he fights the obvious urge to laugh this time.
"Stop it!"
I chuckle softly, and leaning in, I kiss his cheek. "You're a dag sometimes."
He hums and smiles to himself, and with his other hand, he draws back on the joint again before butting it out in the ashtray on his bedside.
"So, when's the fucking everyday business start? —because I think it'll kill you today," I joke, and quirking a brow he turns and stares at me.
"You fucking with me, booger?"
"Booger? I thought you weren't going to tease me ala ten-year-old Eddie Spaghetti?"
"Think of it like babe, except not as lame."
"I think I'd prefer babe."
"Babe is lame."
"Lame?" I echo. "Don't you mean cliché?"
"That too."
"Babe, honey, Darling... They're all clichés?"
"Exactly my point. And darling...?" He quirks that eyebrow again, cynically this time. "What are we, eighty?"
"I was making a point."
"What the hell are you bitching about now?"
"Oh my god." I hang my head back and let it go, because I have no idea what I'm even saying anymore. "Never mind..."
"Hey, it wouldn't be us if I started calling you Pooh Bear or some other cheesy bullshit, would it?"
He definitely has me there; it wouldn't.
"I guess not," I concede. "But you might as well just keep calling me snotface."
"I told you, I no longer see you as snotface."
"Snotface and booger are synonyms," I say, as he huffs loudly.
"It's day one and you're already driving me mental!" he exclaims, completely feigning frustration. "You gonna keep calling me shithead?"
"If you act like it."
"We're going around in circles again."
"Don't we always?"
He rolls his eyes but the smirk has already taken hold of his expression. "Point taken. We'll start the fucking tomorrow," he changes course.
"Deal. Okay..." I pull myself off his bed to my feet. "You want me to get you anything specific?"
"Maltesers and... chicken Twisties—no. Pringles. BBQ."
"I meant something for your head," I clarify.
"I thought you meant besides that."
I open my mouth, but instead break into an impulsive grin; it's near impossible to hold off. "Okay."
"Thanks, booger."
"You're welcome, babe."
"See how lame that sounds?"
I expel my breath and give in. "I'm leaving."
"Oi!" he says after I turn my back on him.
"What?" I glance over my shoulder.
"Gonna kiss me first, or what?"
"I'll only be gone for half an hour," I point out.
"Still..." He shrugs a shoulder and motions to me with his index finger.
Relenting, I turn back, and leaning against his bed, I press my lips gently to his.
"Hey," he mumbles against my ear before I can pull away again.
"Hmm?"
"You looked really hot last night."
I break into a small smile and shake my head. "You told me a few times, and so did you."
"I know." He winks.
. . .
By late afternoon Edward's almost back to his usual shithead self—despite the fact that he looks like he tried to stop a meteor with his face. His appetite is back to its gargantuan proportions as well, and knowing I can breathe easy, I decide to head back home.
"You're not going to stay with me again?" He pouts.
"And you call me needy," I tease him over my shoulder, before shuffling to the edge of his bed and slipping my feet into my thongs. "I have to go home eventually. My dad's tolerance will only stretch so far."
"Righto..." he grumbles.
"Poor baby."
"Pain in the neck."
"You're more of a pain in the neck than I am."
He smirks, but whatever he's thinking he obviously abandons it. "Come over in the morning."
"I'm still taking you to the doctor's," I remind him.
He half rolls his eyes and pulls himself beside me, draping an arm around my shoulders. "I wasn't talking about that."
It's not exactly hard to guess what he was.
"After we get back—and if you don't have a concussion."
"I don't have a concussion," he says in monotone, as I prod him gently in the side.
"Don't be patronising."
"Well, I don't."
"You're still going."
"Fine." He scoffs. "Hey...?"
"What?"
"You're not shy around me anymore."
I gaze at him for a moment in confusion. "I've never been shy around you."
"Yeah, you were—all that staring at the ground you did." His brows raise in emphasis.
"I wasn't shy. It was just... I mean, we were in that awkward place between friends and... more than friends."
"More than friends," he imitates me.
"Shut up," is my paltry reply, and pulling myself to my feet, I turn back to face him.
Remaining seated on his bed, he grabs my hand, but his eyes are fused to his floorboards. "Alright..." He's sulking.
I sigh pointedly. "If I stay another night, my old man will physically drag me home."
"It's day one—all those nights are now wiped out," he says, a cagey grin tugging on his lips.
I roll my eyes. "I have to go."
He groans pitifully, and pulling me against him, he presses his face into my stomach and wraps his arms around my waist.
"Are you kidding me...?" I complain, and I suspect he knows what he's doing, and how I'll react.
"One more night—I'm having a sickie tomorrow," he pleads against me in a mumble.
"Oh my god... Fine, but no sex until after the doctors," I lay down my conditions, and angling his head back he flashes me a satisfied grin.
"You've got sex on the brain, booger."
I groan only half beneath my breath. "I'm going—I'll come over after dad leaves for work."
Taking his hands I remove them from around me.
"Okay." He's all smiles, and feeling pretty sorry for him, despite everything, I bend down and kiss his lips. "What time?" he asks, eyebrows raised high again, and even with a battered face he's still a good-looking shithead.
"After eight."
. . .
"Edward stayed here last night," my father states matter-of-factly at the dinner table causing me to almost choke on my steak.
"Um, y-yeah..." I stammer, shooting a quick glance at my mother; she only smiles in apology. "But... he was concussed, so it was only until Alice's party died down," I attempt to clarify, cowering subtly from his sharp gaze.
He harrumphs, not looking the least bit convinced. "Bring him around before I leave," he orders, and without another word he returns to his meal.
"I'm sorry, sweetie. He saw Edward's clothes early this morning in the bathroom," my mother explains when I'm reluctantly leaving to get him.
"It's fine," I say with a weary breath, but it's my own fault. I should have known better.
The instant my father lays eyes on Edward, they immediately widen while something in his expression falters. He listens carefully as Edward explains what happened at the formal, his forehead furrowing more with each passing word. Whatever Edward tells him, though, he's going to look into it at work, regardless. Edward has to be aware of this, and it's more than likely why he's pretty frank when he describes how he retaliated against Mike.
When he's done, my father clears his throat roughly. And awkwardly.
"Care to tell me what happened here?" he asks, his face softening somewhat.
"Um... Mrs Cullen ran me a bath," Edward begins, sliding his palm along the back of his neck, "and then Bella kept me talking 'til pretty early this morning."
"Well..." Charlie clears his throat a second time, "you're welcome to stay over if things at home get hard, but just so you're aware, you'll be sleeping in the spare room." There's an unmistakable warning behind his statement, but a definite compassion as well.
Edward raises his head and stares at him with the same degree of surprise currently over-running my face. "Ah... thanks, Mr Swan."
"Alright." Unfolding his arms, Charlie shoves his hands in his pockets, his stance visibly relaxing. "You look like shit. Go home and get some rest—you seen a doctor?"
"Bella's taking me tomorrow."
"Good."
"So, I just had to get the crap beaten out of me to win him over, huh?" Edward says with a broad grin as I walk him back home.
"He's not a complete ogre underneath it all," I say in a murmur, but the fact that my father is looking out for Edward is momentous. At the same time, he's just as worried about what Carlisle might do to him as I am, and that scares me above all else.
"Maybe he just wants to keep a closer eye on me," Edward adds lightly, and ducking his head he captures my gaze that I have locked subconsciously to the tiles of his porch.
"Hmm..." I reply, raising my head and forcing the smile to my lips. "I wouldn't get too confident yet, though."
His smile falters somewhat and he releases what sounds like a very deliberate breath. "What are you getting bent out of shape over now?"
"Nothing," I insist.
"Did I jinx you?"
"...What?"
"I pointed out how you'd stopped looking at the ground, and here you are doing it again."
"No. I was just... thinking..." I mumble, my eyes once again dropping to my feet.
"About...?" Sliding his hand to my jaw he forces my gaze back to his.
"Will you come over? —if-if you have a fight with your dad, I mean," I ask delicately, and I feel like holding my breath. His father is a touchy subject.
"Geez, Bella... I dunno..." he mutters, releasing his hand from me to push it back through his hair.
He doesn't want to talk about it, that much is obvious, so I change the subject. "Okay, I'll be over around eight-thirty."
"Righto." He flicks me square in the forehead, albeit gently, but he hasn't done that in a while.
"Asshole," I say wryly, as he immediately breaks into that smile of his.
"Don't be late"—he bends down to speak against my ear—"babe."
A/N: thanks for reading :) let me know how you liked. Or didn't. All good.