Hoping to update tomorrow but I have a sick toddler at the moment! If there's a chance for me to update, I'll try - Bella finally gets her Christmas present in chapter 20 ;) and I reaaaally want to mark this complete by NYE or New Year's Day!
Thanks to those who are still here! :3
19
My head is pounding when I wake up the next morning.
I whimper, keeping my eyes closed. I'm not ready to face the world yet, or the dumb decisions I potentially made last night.
"You good?" I hear Edward ask, and my eyes fly open to find him in bed with me.
It's not a bad way to wake up.
In fact, it's probably my favorite way to wake up.
The problem is I just don't remember going to bed.
Or much of last night, really.
"Why did I drink so much?" I groan, draping an arm over my face.
"That's a good question that I'm not sure I have the answer to," he says, sounding a little too amused.
I roll closer to him, pressing myself against his shirtless, sexy self. "Well, at least you don't sound mad at me."
He holds me, pressing a sweet kiss on my head. "Why would I be mad?"
"I don't know. That's the problem. I could have said and done any number of things last night."
"Well, let's start with what you do remember."
"Can't you just tell me?" I beg.
"If you had done something truly awful, I would. But coaxing slow memories out of you will be more fun," he says with a mischievous smile.
"Fun for who?"
"Me. You had your fun last night, so let me have mine now."
I sigh dramatically. "Okay, well…"
Thinking about the start of the night is easier because I wasn't as drunk, so I start there.
After I had the bright idea to go to the office Christmas party, I started getting ready. Alice carefully drew winged eyeliner on my lids and added subtle waves to my hair.
When I went to pick out a more lowkey dress, she hyped me up, saying, "Go for tight and black like the badass, bombshell bitch you are."
I'm not wearing it now. I'm in an oversized T-shirt, which means Edward must have helped me get undressed.
A spark of a memory appears.
Edward unzipping my dress until it pooled at my feet, then offering a steady hand to help me step out of it as he whispered, "I got you, baby."
"You helped me undress and called me baby," I blurt now. I'm smug. And so, so enamored with this soft, sweet man.
He looks surprised, but not at all embarrassed. "That's the first thing you remember?"
"No, I remember getting ready with Alice, but if I'm gonna take anything away from last night it's sure as hell gonna be that," I say softly.
"Yeah, I slipped up and called you baby. It won't happen again if you don't want it to."
I scoff. "Excuse you. I'm going to need it to happen again and again and again. Got it?"
He smiles softly. "Keep thinking about last night. There's a lot for us to cover."
"Okay, okay. helped me get ready for the party and blasted the song 'Vigilante Shit' by Taylor Swift on repeat because she was under the impression I was only going for revenge."
"Ah. That makes a lot more sense now," he offers.
"What does?"
"Why you were in annihilation mode last night."
I blanch. "What does that mean? What did I do?"
"You were just being unapologetically you."
"Did Jane show up to the party?"
"No."
I instantly feel better.
"You just weren't holding back, saying whatever was on your mind," he explains. "Standing up for yourself and setting the record straight where Jane was concerned."
"Sounds obnoxious," I mutter.
"It wasn't," he insists more firmly now. "It was fucking sexy, and if you don't believe me, see for yourself."
He shifts and grabs his phone from my nightstand.
"No, no, no," I chant, covering my eyes. "There's video evidence?"
He laughs softly and pulls my hands away, cuddling up to me again.
"Well, yeah. Angela captured your performance."
I want to die. "I sang?"
"Well, yeah," he says again. "It was a karaoke bar."
I hide under the comforter.
"Bella," he laughs, pulling off the blanket. "Baby, just watch."
The pet name softens me. "I worry you're going to get away with a lot by calling me that," I murmur.
"Don't worry, I won't abuse it," he reassures me, then opens Instagram and goes to Angela's profile.
The first clip in her story is of me stepping onto the small tiki-themed stage, soft purple and blue lights illuminating me. I spot Edward standing off to the side in the video, holding a beer and watching me with a bemused smile on his lips.
"Glad to see you were there supporting me. Also, I can't believe Alice talked me into wearing that," I mumble, eyeing the form-fitting little black dress and too-tall platform heels.
"I'm glad she did," Edward admits, pressing a small kiss to the corner of my mouth. "You looked so goddamn good. But you always do."
More memories—Edward whistling and making me spin in place when he picked me up from my apartment. Edward's arm permanently wrapped around my waist all night, keeping me close. Edward sliding his palm a bit lower and resting it just above my ass. Edward being handsy. Edward kissing me in front of my ex-coworkers, claiming me as his.
"Were we in full-on couple mode last night?" I ask, my anxiety over the night easing a bit because I had him by my side.
"Oh, yeah. People know we're a thing now."
I kiss him and mentally note to grill him on defining exactly what we are after my night is pieced back together.
Turning my focus back to the screen, the next clip is of me grabbing the microphone and saying, "I'd like to dedicate this song to Jane Frost. Your frigid last name is fitting for your cold, black soul."
"Oh, God," I mumble. "I didn't."
"You did," Edward confirms as if this video isn't proof enough. "But everyone loved you for it. I loved you for it."
My stomach flutters.
Some people whoop and holler in the video after my introduction. One person even calls out, "Fuck Jane the Pain!"
The music starts playing and in my hungover state, I can't place the song right away.
A lone piano key plinks over and over again until strings and bass join in.
"'Runaway' by Kanye West?" I ask Edward.
He chuckles. "Yeah."
"But I hate him. And it's not even because of the grudge I hold against him from the whole Taylor Swift thing in 2009. Kanye is problematic! A real piece of shit. Like, am I totally canceled now for doing karaoke to one of his songs?"
Before Edward can answer me, Drunk Bella speaks into the microphone over the instrumental opening and says, "Let the record show I hate Kanye. And it's not just because I still hold a grudge against him over the Taylor thing. He's a dick, but the chorus of this song works perfectly, so please don't cancel me."
"I guess drunk words really are sober thoughts," Edward quips.
"How could you let me do this!" I cry. I'm equal parts embarrassed and amused by my shenanigans.
"You deserved to have that moment of fuck you," Edward says simply. "And it's like you said—you're already fired. What's the worst that could happen?"
"Ummm. I still need to be employable in the future."
"I promise you, it's fine, Bell. Everyone there was on your side. They like you and they know what she did was shitty. Just keep watching."
In the next clip, Angela captured me singing the pre-chorus, but I must have slightly altered the words to make it fit for Jane.
"And you always find, always find something wrong. I've been putting up with your shit just way too long. You're so gifted at finding what you don't like the most… so I think it's time for us to have a toast," I sang, raising my glass. To my surprise, the crowd joined in to help me sing the next verse, raising their drinks, too. "Let's have a toast for the douchebags. Let's have a toast for the assholes. Let's have a toast for the scumbags, every one of them that I know. Let's have a toast for the jerk-offs that'll never take work off. Baby, I got a plan, run away fast as I can."
I have to admit, it looks like it was a good time. And with everyone singing along and showing their support, it makes me feel less of an asshole for doing that.
The last clip that plays on Angela's Instagram story is a group of us taking a shot.
"You're iconic!" she yelled over the background music.
"More like moronic," I mutter to Edward and push his phone away. "I've seen enough."
"You really know how to entertain a crowd," he teases. "Have you ever thought of pursuing motivational speaking?"
"Don't try to distract me with praise. What else do I need to know? What other damage did I cause last night?"
"No damage, Bella. People were inspired."
"Inspired?" I repeat. "Inspired to do what?"
"To report Jane for every little bullshit, unethical thing she's ever done to them or made them do."
Another flash of a memory. This time, it's of me leaving the stage after my performance. Edward immediately scooped me up into a hug, and the second he let go, Jane's last assistant, Emily, approached me.
It's fuzzy but I remember her saying what Jane did to me wasn't right, and that she was going to make a formal complaint when she got back to work about everything Jane did to her, so it couldn't happen again.
Another slight recollection of two more ex-colleagues who I'd never met coming forward to say they were also going to go to HR and share their awful experience with Jane.
"Holy shit," I blurt.
"See? I told you, it's fine."
"You think Jane is gonna get fired?" I wonder and hope and wish and dream.
"I would be really surprised if she wasn't. With these employees coming forward and your exit interview, the company would be stupid not to."
"So something good came from me embarrassing myself last night," I muse, feeling a little better about the entire shitshow.
"We were all drunk, and you didn't embarrass yourself. But Muscles McGee did."
"What? How?"
"You don't remember?" he asks, a glint in his eyes.
"Hello? I'm an alcohol-induced amnesiac. Help a girl out."
He laughs. "He got wasted."
"As one does."
"And I think seeing us together pissed him off."
"As it should," I laugh.
"In the middle of him singing 'Pony' by Ginuwine—"
"He didn't!" I die laughing, both happy and sad I don't have any recollection of that.
"He did. Everyone was visibly uncomfortable and hated it, so he made a big scene on stage, spewing all this bullshit like all his effort was for nothing. None of the women in the office appreciate him or his romantic gestures, blah blah blah."
"So the poem that was left on my desk was from him?"
"Actually… no," Edward says. "Remember on the phone yesterday when I said fuck that guy regarding your secret admirer?"
"Yeah?"
"I got the guy part wrong."
"What?" I ask, so confused.
But then another memory is there.
Drunk Angela admitting she left the poem on my desk. That she immediately regretted it because it was equal parts cheesy and creepy, but I found it before she could take it back. She confessed she could never pick up on my vibe but enjoyed talking to me and wanted to shoot her shot in case I was interested. But hearing that I'm with Cullen and seeing us together made sense and she was happy for me.
"Oh. Oh. Angela?" I ask, and he nods in confirmation. "I mean, she's cool, but… do I give off an into girls vibe?"
Edward laughs. "Not to me. But that's because I have firsthand knowledge of how badly you want my cock, so…"
"If that sentence isn't immediately followed up with an offering of said cock, I will scream."
He laughs and laughs and god, I love him.
When he kisses me, it's slow and sensual. He caresses my hip and lets his hand roam from my waist to my ass.
A small hum escapes from the back of his throat as he squeezes my behind.
"Thank you," I whisper when we break apart just slightly, our noses brushing.
"Really, the ass squeeze was all my pleasure," he quips with a smug grin.
"No, not that," I laugh breathily. "Just… thank you for everything? I feel like… less stagnant. More hopeful recently? I don't know. And I know it's because of you."
His eyes soften and he tips my chin up. "I told you, Bella, you deserve so fucking much."
"I know I do… and one thing I definitely know I deserve is your cock," I say assertively, moving to straddle him.
He barks a laugh and grabs my hips, lust sparking in his heavy gaze. "As much as I want to—"
"Nooo," I whine. "It's Christmas Eve. I need to give you your present. Let me jingle your balls. You can deck my halls. We can finally fa-la-la-la fu—"
"Could you give me a few hours? I need to get one more thing for your present," he says, grabbing my waist and rolling us over with ease so he's on top now and settled between my legs. "If I start doing what I want to do to you," he murmurs, cruelly pushing his hips against mine so I can feel his bulge where I want it most, "we'll never leave. And I need to take care of one more thing, but I'll be back later to pick you up."
"Sure. Rile me up just to abandon me," I sigh, and then moan when he sucks on my neck. "Have a heart. Give me something. Anything."
"Hey," he says with intention. And I love it when he says the lone word, like what he's about to say is important. But the last time he said hey like this on the phone, it was followed by talk of feces so my expectations are low.
He's still lying on top of me, and I search his face.
"Hey, what?" I echo quietly.
He dips his head and kisses me softly, sensually. Sweetly.
"You wanna be my girl?" he whispers.
A nervous, excited flutter tingles in my lower stomach.
"Yeah, I do," I agree, heart swelling. "Like, your girlfriend?"
"Yeah. My girlfriend," he repeats, the most satisfied spark in his eyes.
"Wait. Are you offering me a label in place of an orgasm, Cullen?"
"No," he says, voice low and sexy. "I've wanted you to be mine for a while now. But… timing."
"Who says Christmas wishes don't eventually come true? Thirteen-year-old me is finally getting a boyfriend for Christmas," I say, joking but also serious, and Edward's eyes squint when he laughs.
"You still believed in Santa at thirteen?" he asks with a wry smile.
"Shut up. As my boyfriend now, you have to find all of my quirks endearing."
"I already did, even before I was your boyfriend," he says sweetly.
I kiss him once, twice, three times. "I know."
"Well. I'm glad to fulfill all of your wishes this year."
"I mean, you could fulfill one more but…" I say, taunting. Just because he's my boyfriend now doesn't mean I'm gonna stop giving him shit.
He just smiles and kisses me, and whispers the best promise against my lips: "Soon."