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I gripped the trunk of the tree, the damp, black bark crumbling at my fingertips. I could hear drops of water make delicate plops as they hit the ground below, sending rippling circles across puddles—artless depths of lucent liquid. My bare feet slowly sunk into the ground and the breeze kissed the strands of my hair, lifting them toward the sky. I tilted my head back and breathed deeply, taking in the scent of fresh rain.
I was still until the wind blew harder and stronger, and, curious, I stepped away from the bulky trunk. The tree's branches swayed and billowed, rustling with intensity. I felt intimidated, suddenly, and I heard an odd gurgling coming from below. The seeping ground was slowly losing its pools of water, diminishing before my eyes. I bent down and tried to scoop the water into my hands, but it spilled through my fingers and evaporated as the wind fiercely hit my back.
The pool that my feet were stuck in flashed a radiant green like young leaves, and I realized that it, too, was the next to be gone. The green suddenly flashed crimson, then coal black, and the water disappeared completely.
I was trapped, suddenly sinking into the muck. I clawed at the ground with helpless fingers, frantic to get out, but the dirt slowly dried as my legs gradually disappeared into the earth, cementing me in its earthy vice. The culprit trees swayed violently above me, as though cackling with spite as I sunk deeper—waist, shoulders, and I started to scream as my mouth filled with grime.
And then, I awoke.
I lay frozen, still drifting from the dream to reality, unable to catch my breath right away. Moments passed, and I gasped when I could finally move. I sat up, stunned, whispering, "What the fuck?"
A nightmare from poetry. This place was having a weird effect on me. I rubbed my face and yawned, thinking I should have known better; reading in bed almost always put me to sleep.
Feeling parched (the irony not lost on me), I slid off the bed and went to into the bathroom. Forming a cup with my hands, I stuck them under the chrome faucet and drank five handfuls of water, not caring when it dribbled down my chin. When I looked in the mirror, I saw that I had creases all over my face from the pillowcase.
I looked like a drooling Freddy Kruger with bedhead.
Wiping my face and running my hands through my messy hair, I walked back out into my room and leisurely picked up my cell phone to check the time.
Seven-twenty one! "Shit!" I hissed. I had nine minutes to make myself presentable and get downstairs.
My shirt was wrinkled from sleeping, so I grabbed the first shirt I saw in my bag and pulled it on. I took a hoodie, too, in case it was cold in the Entertainment Hall and my bra decided to not do its job of hiding any 'party hats'. Then I dashed back into the bathroom to brush my hair, praying the tousled side would stay flat. After putting a layer of powder over my cheeks and brightening my lips with some lip balm, I promoted myself to looking 'okay'. Whatever. It would be dark in the room, anyway.
At seven twenty-nine exactly, I opened my door and peeked around the corner. For some reason, I felt like it would be weird to bump into him in the hallway. Awkward small talk, probably, and there were a lot of stairs to descend.
Showing up on time doesn't seem desperate, I told myself. It was polite. Right? I stopped walking in the middle of the second-floor staircase. Maybe I should play it cool and be a few minutes late.
"You are crazy," I said aloud.
I made my feet move, making it to the lobby unscathed and right on time, and watched as some of the other guests filtered into the Entertainment Hall. A man in a red tie walked by me, and unless I was mistaken, he was reciting chess strategies under his breath. Aha. I knew who he was, thanks to Angela. He noticed me and his pensive face gave a small curl of a smile. "Evening, missy."
"Hi. Mr. Miller, isn't it?" I said, thrilled that I could actually acknowledge someone by name.
"It is. A pleasure to meet you," he said, offering me a handshake.
After receiving a few more polite smiles from some passing familiar faces (while trying not to appear like I was looking for someone), I ended up alone in the lobby.
Yeah, he's not coming, I thought internally.
There was still time, sort of. It was only seven thirty-three. Inside the hall, I could hear Doris and another worker discussing the projector screen, and I wondered if I should just go in. Edward had asked me to save him a seat, after all. If he didn't show up, then fine. At least no one but Angela knew that I was meeting him, except maybe Doris. I wasn't positive if she'd actually heard what I'd asked him when she saw us talking or not. I just hoped she wouldn't bring it up.
A few more minutes ticked by, and I could see the lights dim in the Entertainment Hall. They were starting.
I sighed, deciding to go inside and sit down. I really hoped Jessica had gone home. If she was in there with her glaring eyes and bowling-ball boobs, the only saving grace would be to see her trip over a chair.
A little bell chimed just as I was only a few steps away from disappearing into the dark room. The front door, I remembered. I stopped and slowly looked over my shoulder. Edward was in the doorway holding a travel tray with two paper coffee cups nestled inside. His shoulders and hair were wet with rainwater.
"Don't you have a coat?" I blurted out.
He looked amused. "No. Hello to you, too."
A coat. Who was I, his mother?
"Hi," I said, mentally kicking myself as he stepped further inside the lobby, the door's bell ringing again as it closed.
"Sorry I'm late," he said, after a glance at the grandfather clock. "Have you been waiting long?"
"No. I just came down." White lies, saving my dignity more times than I cared to admit.
He cleared his throat and offered me one of the paper cups. "I thought you might like something," he said. "I wasn't sure what you drink, but I saw that you had tea at breakfast. Do you like Chai?"
He'd bought me tea. The spicy kind. I dismissed the thought that the tea flavor was an invitation to spice things up later. (It still crossed my mind, though.)
"Thank you," I said, reaching up to take the cup from him. His fingers brushed against my hand, making a funny little butterfly go from my stomach to my chest.
"It's a latte, actually. It was the 'Drink of the Day.' They had about twenty different kinds of tea, so… I just chose that."
"Good choice, because these are my favorite. I get them all the time at home."
"Where's home?"
"Jacksonville."
"Jacksonville," he repeated. "So, Florida? That's quite a distance."
I nodded, giving a half smile. "Yeah… though maybe not far enough."
Not believing I had let that slip, my heart skipped a beat, and while he looked as though he might ask why, Doris's voice suddenly echoed through the lobby. "Mr. Masen, Isabella? Are you two joining us?" Lauren was at her side, eyeing me up. So she didn't go to Olympia after all. Fantastic.
Edward gave her a small nod. "Be right there."
Doris gave us a giddy grin and retreated back into the hall, and Lauren walked toward us, threw me a death glare, and then stalked out the front door. Oof. What a piss-ant. I hoped she would stay gone.
Edward spoke up. "Shall we?"
"Sure," I said, trying not to sound shy. This didn't feel awkward, and I told myself that I wasn't going to fall all over him like Jessica Stanley; I was skank-free.
The Entertainment Hall was embellished to look like a little theatre, with red curtains adorning the walls and foldout chairs with red and brown cushions were lined in rows, leaving space for a makeshift aisle. There was a surprisingly large amount of people. Maybe all of them weren't guests and just lived in town. Or maybe it was the 'Older Folks Movie Night' in Forks since everyone else had at least forty-plus years on Edward and me. As excited as I was to notice that Jessica wasn't present, I was a little bummed to see that Angela had left. Seeing her might have made the slightly painful bundle of nerves in my stomach loosen. Edward gestured for me to sit first, and I took a seat in a row that was empty, although two other ladies grinned at us from across the aisle in the opposite row. They turned to one another and whispered, then looked back at us and smiled again.
It was like having a date with multiple grandmothers around.
Edward and I shared a look of mutual amusement before I turned to the screen, which was just like a pull-down projector shade one would see in classrooms. I suddenly felt a bit of déjà vu, as though I was back in high school science class, about to watch a film on dissections or amphibian DNA. Back then, I sat next to a boy with body odor as a freshman, a girl who chewed her pencils to pieces throughout sophomore year, a boy who slept through most of class during junior year, and I was stuck with the cocky football captain, who pretended that I didn't exist, when I was a senior. This was much better than high school—I had the scent of my latte instead of formaldehyde, and Edward was absolutely nothing like that Beef-arm McJockstrap idiot.
We sat quietly as The Green Mile started. I had never seen the film, but it captivated me from the very beginning. The old retirement center that the old man, Paul Edgecomb, lived in mirrored our surroundings somewhat: his bad dreams, the residents surrounding the common area television, the rainstorm that ravaged the sky… Even the old lady, Elaine, sitting down to tea with Paul to talk about his past was familiar. It was like Edward and I, only fifty years older. Though, if I was being honest, Paul was much more amenable to sharing his thoughts.
Occasionally, I peeked over at Edward. He was mostly as focused as I was, though he caught me looking once. He gave me a small smile, and I was sure I turned pink, but thankfully he couldn't see. However, the movie was interesting enough that my mind didn't wander. Though, during a particular scene when a hunting group found two little girls who'd been murdered, Edward stiffened in his seat. He kept his eyes strictly on the floor until it faded into the next part. He breathed in a slow breath before raising his head up, and I almost touched his arm to see if he was okay. I missed my chance because I took too long to decide, and the moment was over.
After that, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the screen. From Paul's struggle with righteousness to the play of the inmates' roles, to Mr. Jingles, to Percy, the sniveling little weasel that he was, to the mysterious, faith-healing John Coffey. My attention was completely on the film until one particularly horrifying scene of an inmate's execution that made my mouth drop in shock—mine and everyone else's who hadn't seen the movie. I watched the scene play out with wide eyes, raising my hoodie over my mouth.
At the end of the scene, I felt a tear drip down my cheek and I quickly brushed it away. That's when I felt Edward squeeze my shoulder. When I turned to look at him, the flicker of the movie's glow reflected in his eyes. "You okay?" he asked quietly.
I nodded. "Sorry," I said under my breath. Not many people had seen me cry—not even my parents, really, if the times when I was an infant were discounted.
"Don't be," he said. His hand lingered on my shoulder for two more seconds and I had an urge to reach up and hold it. Even if this was a gesture and not a move, I wondered what he would do if I took his hand, but he simply let go and cupped his hands in his lap. Bummer.
The movie continued with its flip-flop of warm humor and heartrending moments, pulling my attention back to the story. It even made me cry one last time before it ended, but I didn't feel as embarrassed since, as the lights slowly came on, I noticed I wasn't the only one. It was a heavy, haunting, but beautiful ending. I saw Doris wiping her eyes as she went to fiddle with the DVD player.
Beside me, Edward stretched his shoulders and arms. He wasn't crying, but he seemed worn out. I hadn't realized it when he came in from the rain, but his eyes had shadows resting underneath them like little hammock-shaped bruises.
"Tired?" I asked.
He shook his head. "No. How did you like the movie?" he asked, rubbing the back of his head, making his hair stick out.
"It was so good. Moving. I really enjoyed it. Did you like it?"
He nodded, relaying some of his thoughts. People started walking out, so we stood up, carrying the empty coffee cups that we'd sucked dry, and wandered into the lobby. A few people walked up the stairs, heading to their rooms and exchanging goodnights, while others separated in the direction of the sitting area and café, getting coffee or tea. We disposed of our cups and Edward turned back to me, stifling a yawn.
Sure he wasn't tired.
"It definitely makes you think, you know," he said, continuing the conversation.
"Yeah," I agreed thoughtfully. "It kind of makes me wonder if we're actually in control of the things that happen to us. Maybe someone or something can surprise you and alter the path completely, manipulating your life. You can't fight change, I guess."
He paused, narrowing his eyes. I figured that might have sounded like something a cliché philosophical stoner would say, but then he replied, "I don't think I could have said it better."
I gave him a sheepish smile. Since we hadn't really conversed all night, I was hoping to have it go smoothly this time. My heart rate was doing its job, keeping steady, and my cheeks didn't even go rosy. I was cool and collected.
Then he went and ruined it when he stretched his arms again, and I saw the curves of his chest against his shirt and a small glimpse of skin by his waistline. My heart betrayed me. My face warmed. I regretted not dating the first Tai Chi instructor Renée had set me up with—Dave something. Maybe I would have at least learned how to relax my libido.
"I mean, could you imagine such a life?" he asked me, steering me back to reality. "Growing older, watching the people you love die? Knowing that your time is nearly everlasting?"
I pondered that thought. "I wouldn't want to be alone like that, no."
Edward sighed. "Neither would I."
And there it was: a little chip off his brick wall.
I was about to ask him if he wanted to go sit down and talk, or maybe even go to the diner since I was passed out in bed during dinner and was starving. But when I saw him run a hand over his weary eyes, I asked, "Are you going to bed soon?"
"I, uh," he said, looking toward the door and then at the stairs. "I suppose so. Are you?"
At the moment, I was grieving a little for the Chicken Chesapeake Angela had been telling me about, so I wasn't thinking of going to sleep at all. Maybe I could drive around and find a McDonald's or something.
"Actually, I might go out and pick up something to eat," I said. "I kind of slept through dinner."
"By yourself?" he asked.
"It's only ten-thirty," I said lightly. "I don't think the murderers come out until at least midnight."
I expected one of his barely-there smiles, but instead, his eyes darkened and he frowned. "You shouldn't go by yourself. Would you like me to come with you?"
Of course I wanted him to, but I felt a little tense at his perturbed expression. "No, you don't have to. I mean, do you want to?" I didn't see how he could; he looked as though he might not be able to stand up much longer.
"I'd feel better if you weren't alone," he said after a beat.
That wasn't a yes. No 'Sure' or 'Yeah, I'd like the company.' Why he felt some sort of bizarre obligation to not let me venture out by myself was beyond me. Was he paying me back for the coat comment earlier?
"Have you been covertly communicating with my father?" I asked, joking, beginning to climb the staircase. If I was going anywhere, I was going to need my purse. "He used to be the Chief of Police and he says the same thing to me almost every time I set foot out the door. But even he wasn't concerned about this place. Does Forks even have a crime record other than traffic violations?"
"I'm just cautious," he said, following my suit. "I could drive you if you wanted."
"Well," I said, starting on the second staircase, "I appreciate it, but I was taught not to get in cars with people I've just met." He paused briefly, instantly looking apologetic, and I chuckled. "I'm kidding."
"No, you're absolutely right, I'm sorry," he said contritely.
"I'm messing with you," I assured him, trying to laugh it off. "I'd let you come with me, but you look like you might fall asleep, whether you're behind the wheel or in my passenger seat. And I doubt that would save me from any crazy parking lot lurkers," I teased.
Edward didn't smile—he only grimaced. So much for the chip in his wall; I could see him mentally spackling it back up as we spoke. I sighed as we climbed the stairs, becoming slower as we got further to the top floor. Each time I made the trek, I expected to get better at it, but that was definitely not the case. I felt like we were climbing the apartment building in Ghostbusters.
"I don't think you understand."
Here we go again.
"Yes, you've given your opinion on what I don't understand already," I said. Suddenly I was losing patience, probably because I was hungry. "Although, you're right. If anything, I don't understand why you've got your guard up so high, and I'm sure you have a good reason, but it's not like you're sharing information."
"How did this become about me?" he asked.
"Well, first you go and imply that I'm rash for wanting to knock on your door when I thought something was wrong, and how you would never do such a thing. Now, you don't want me going anywhere by myself even though you've been out all day. And you were alone."
His mouth was grimly set in a firm line. "It wasn't dark out then. And how do you know I was alone?"
"Well, I don't," I said honestly, huffing as I stopped on the third floor. "But you left alone. Anyway, that's not the point. I just don't get why you—" I wanted to tell him that I knew he'd been there for two weeks without much interest in talking to anyone, let alone spending time with anyone, but I didn't want him to know that I'd been asking about him.
"Did you actually want to sit with me at the movie tonight?" I asked, changing the subject. "Or were you just feeling guilty about this morning?"
He stared at me, caught off guard, and gripped the hair on the back of his head, passing his fingers through it slowly. "Both."
Yeah, right. Probably only the latter, which meant I was his charity case. I felt like he just kicked me in the gut. "You don't owe me anything," I said, more sadly than I intended. "I don't want you doing anything out of obligation."
I started up the stairs again.
"That's not what I meant at all," he said, following me. "I came because I wanted to. But also because I hoped to make it up to you. I know I wasn't exactly forthcoming this morning, but—I just..."
I sighed, feeling ridiculous. "You don't have to explain. I'm sorry. You just met me, and you probably don't spill your whole life story to strangers. I don't blame you."
Edward stayed silent as we climbed, but then I halted as we reached our floor, turning and putting my hand on his chest to stop him. "But why me, though?" He looked puzzled, so I said, "I met Angela today. She told me that you hardly ever speak to anyone and that you keep to yourself. So, I was wondering… why am I different?"
"You asked about me?"
Shit. "I was curious," I admitted, averting my eyes for a moment.
He shrugged. "I tend to be—well, protective of myself. Sometimes I get protective of others, too." He sounded sincere, and his eyes had a sudden, intense sadness. I craved to know why.
"You don't know me, though," I said quietly, leaning against one of the staircase pillars, not wanting to leave him for the night just yet. "So, why would you want to protect me?"
Edward exhaled, looking conflicted. "I've been asking myself that since this morning." He stood in front of me, close enough that I could smell a faint scent of coffee and something sweet, like a musky vanilla. "I can't come up with an answer that makes sense. I suppose I'm curious about you, too. I feel a bit... drawn to you, and I know that sounds weird to say. I can't explain it."
He moved a bit closer and then reconsidered, taking a step back. Watching him, I could barely move.
"Can you try?" I asked, a little breathless.
He paused, gazing down at me, the light from the hall giving him a glow. His mouth parted with unspoken words, so still and serious. Then, suddenly, his eyes darted to the space behind me. Before I could turn to look, too, he snatched me around my waist and pulled me back behind the far side of the pillar, clutching me tightly to his chest. I gasped, struggling in fear, sparing a second to think how incredibly stupid it was to let myself be alone with a guy I didn't know, and started to panic just as he loosened his grip.
"Shh," he whispered uneasily. "Do you hear that?"
That's when I realized he wasn't trying to hurt me, but I couldn't help shaking. Shivers vibrated through me as his hands encircled my arms, holding me snugly. Men grabbing me out of nowhere was not something I was ever okay with, but as we stood there, I could feel his heart racing just as fast as mine, and it dawned on me that he might be scared. I had no idea why he'd pulled me behind the pillar as though we were hiding.
But then a sharp creak and a low moan that hadn't come from either of us made me stiffen.
Someone was on our floor.
"Keep quiet," Edward said, his voice only a wisp of breath. "Don't move."
I was frozen against him, waiting to see what he was going to do. "What is it?" I whispered.
The voice sounded again—louder and more intense.
It was coming from the opposite end of the hallway, away from our rooms, and I had absolutely no idea what was down there. Doris had said there were only two bedrooms, after all. There could be storage rooms or something of the sort. A small crash sounded as if someone had stumbled on something, followed by multiple thumps, and both Edward and I barely even breathed. Who the hell was down there?
"Oh, God." It was a guy.
"Come on... Fuck me harder." And a girl.
Holy. Shit.
My mouth fell open as I realized we were listening to sex. I put my hand over my mouth before I could snort. This had to be a joke! Who could possibly be young enough to climb all these stairs and be screwing in a hallway in the dark? Sure, I'd jokingly imagined that Edward (as an elderly man) and Doris had been at it before, but for real? No.
"God, Lauren… almost, baby."
Oh. Ha!
They continued grunting, bumping, and exclaiming things for a very, very long minute before they were finished. I turned and pressed my face into Edward's shoulder, trying not to laugh and draw attention to our hiding spot. This was possibly the most awkward, hilarious, and humiliating experience I'd ever had. It was like listening to a bad porn movie in real life, but between all of that, I couldn't say I was unaware of how this backward embrace felt. Edward had slowly relaxed but kept his arms around me, so it felt natural to put my hands on top of his. We stayed like that, warm and semi-hugging until Lauren and the mystery man's footsteps sounded behind us. I turned in time to see the backs of their heads as they started down the stairs.
"Don't say I never did anything for you," Lauren said in a proud voice.
"Yeah, it'd be a little more fun if you weren't doing it just to keep me quiet," the guy muttered. "You'd better not tell Tyler about this."
"Right, like that dumbass has any idea what's going on."
"Or Jessica."
"I'm not stupid, you know," she said. "Listen, this is the last time. I'm done paying off my little debt to you."
"Oh, don't you pretend like you weren't loving it," said the guy as their voices faded down the steps. "You're like a fucking cat in heat."
They finally, and thankfully, were out of our hearing range after that. Edward let go of me slowly, and cool air filled the space around me. We stood awkwardly, looking back and forth at each other and the now desecrated hallway.
I let out my breath, breaking into a laugh. "Well, at least they weren't in one of our rooms."
Edward cleared his throat. "Yeah," he muttered, and walked towards his door, then paused and turned back. "I'm really sorry I grabbed you like that."
"It's okay," I said, leaning back against the pillar again, grinning. "You scared me, though. I thought you were about to prove me wrong and serial-killer my insides all over the hallway." I was kidding, but he didn't answer. He was staring at the floor and making no move to either step back from or enter his room. "Edward?"
Not a sound. He was just staring. I walked over to him and touched his shoulder. He flinched, startled as if he'd been standing alone all along.
"Are you all right?" I asked. His expression was solid, like a frozen lock and chain, having just swallowed the key.
"Yes. I overreacted." He reached into his pocket for his key, then stopped and turned around. "Um." He cleared his throat, still distracted, and asked "Do you still want me to come with you or did I cross too large of a line?"
"Huh? Come where?" I asked, trying to backtrack to the point at which we'd been interrupted. All I could remember was him coming closer to me, saying that he felt 'drawn' to me.
"Aren't you hungry?" he asked.
"Oh," I said, having forgotten about food. Being pressed against a man's warm, toned body would do that to you. "You know, I think I might just go hunt down Doris and see if I can scrounge up something leftover from dinner."
He looked at me skeptically. "Are you saying that for my benefit?"
"No," I said honestly, unable to help adding, "But I could come and knock on your door when I'm done just to let you know that I'm still here, Dad."
"I'm sorry."
"You apologize a lot," I pointed out.
"I know," he replied, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. "I'll try not to have a reason to do so again."
I laughed nervously. "Don't beat yourself up. You sound like you're about to avoid me after this for good."
"I would think the opposite, actually," he asked, placing his hand on his doorknob. "Aren't you regretting not listening earlier about staying away from me?"
I creased my eyebrows. "No," I said quickly.
The hallway felt oddly large and empty then, as I stood between him and the balcony. Again, I wanted to get back to that moment when he was only inches from my face, explaining how he felt a pull towards me. I wanted to know why. I wanted to know what he was thinking at that very moment. I wanted to—
"You should eat," he said, interrupting my thoughts.
I exhaled. "You should sleep."
"Yeah." His eyes were bright sage in this light, heavy with an emotion I couldn't guess. Bizarrely, I wanted to reach out and touch his eyelashes to see if they were as soft as they looked.
"It was nice sitting with you tonight," he said quietly.
"Yeah, you too," I said. "Thanks for watching the movie with me."
"Sure," he said, finally opening his door a crack. "Well, good night."
And that was that.
"Good night," I replied, keeping the disappointment out of my voice as I made my way down the stairs. I felt an odd ache in my stomach, and it wasn't from hunger. I'd had it before when I was a kid. It was the feeling I'd gotten whenever Charlie left to go home to Forks after a visit to Jacksonville, or when Renée used to drop me off for sleep-away camp. I was afraid I wouldn't see him again, like we were old friends who'd just said our last goodbye. He could be gone the next day for all I knew.
"Bella?" he called after me, and I stopped in the middle of the staircase.
I looked up, over my shoulder. "Yes?"
He hesitated, looking very much like I had felt earlier that morning when I was asking him to sit with me at the movie. I raised my eyebrows, unsure if he was going to ask me something good or ask me not to bother talking to him anymore.
"Would you want to have breakfast tomorrow morning? Maybe around eight?"
My stomach relaxed. "Yeah," I replied as casually as I could. "That sounds nice."
He gave me the smallest hint of a smile, and I mirrored it.
"Sleep well," I said.
He chuckled like I said something funny. "You, too."
I turned away and then started down the stairs again, running my fingers along the railing as I recalled bits of the day. I hadn't had anything this interesting happen to me in years. I was in a new place, made two new friends (one of which I was guilty of crushing on), and had many more days to look forward to—starting with breakfast tomorrow.
I hurried the rest of the way to the lobby. The sooner I ate, the sooner I could sleep—and the sooner tomorrow would come.
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