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Scheduled for Friday
by Anton M.

39: Rebel

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Sunday, February 5

The mountain dragon I gave voice to, Yamamï, stole my power of speech on Sunday. Fortunately, we finished at three PM, so I had time to drink all the lukewarm, disgusting concoctions of fresh ginger, lemons and a multitude of herbs dad had prepared for the day. Emmett had the day off (well, technically, he was still on call if something happened), so dad drove me to and from the studio while mom spent her Sunday in our Smyrna house for furniture delivery and renovations.

I bit my fingernails into nubs but nothing had shown up online or in the newspapers (so far).

Because my day had nothing to do with Nala and Mathys, Mike wasn't in the studio, which meant that dad and I spent my breaks talking and goofing off. It felt like old times, and I relished every moment of it.

To make sure I wouldn't be alone for a single second, dad timed dropping me off at home with Edward's arrival (which didn't make me feel like my boyfriend was babysitting me at all) before dad headed to Smyrna to handle some details with the construction workers. I failed to contain my grin as Edward and I settled on our couch with two giant pizzas, and I was just barely finishing my second piece when Edward, done with one (entire) pizza, eyed mine.

Laughing with my still-slightly-too-hoarse throat, I slid my pizza closer to him, and he refused to take it until I'd reassured him that our freezer had more.

I graduated from lukewarm tea to the eucalyptic forest fire of my cough syrup and rested my head against Edward's shoulder as I measured (and took) my spoonfuls in silence. It was such a floating existence, having Edward in my life, and it didn't take us long to finish the pizzas. I chewed Edward's gum because even power blasting my tongue with zero Kelvin was better than putting Edward off with the wonderful taste of my cough syrup. He stole his gum back and discarded it before lifting me to sit sideways in his lap.

"C'mere, my Little Food Critic."

He was handsy and touchy, and I bathed in his soft, bright eyes before he cupped my jaw and touched my nose with his, side to side, the way he often did before kissing me.

"How's your voice?"

"It's—" I cleared my throat. "Getting there."

It was hard to believe I'd once thought of him as this intimidating senior with a buzz cut and eyebrow piercing when he looked at me with such tender eyes under his beautifully curved eyelashes.

"Can I still kiss you?" he asked.

I pressed my smiling lips against his in response. I felt goose-bumpy and exhilarated, running my fingers over his short hair and floating away in his tight grip. It was only the knowledge that my parents would be back within the hour that kept our kissing somewhat PG-13, and I asked about his weekend for the same purpose.

Not only had Edward spent his day preparing for the Georgia State Championship in chess at the end of March and beginning of April, he was also a part of Willie W. Smith's team (Division C) in Georgia Science Regional Olympiad in a few weeks. I knew he was smart but I'd never thought about how much preparation went into entering competitions, and I was in awe of him. He'd spent Saturday morning fixing Edward Senior's car, the afternoon taking care of Riley, and soon, our conversations naturally turned to the topic we'd postponed yesterday.

"I know I'm not supposed to ask." Edward brushed his knuckles along my waist to my hip and back again. His lips were a lovely shade of pink from all our kissing, but his eyes were serious.

"It's okay," I replied, heart in my (hoarse) throat. "I don't think I have answers for you but you can still ask."

Edward searched my eyes and kissed my shoulder. "Why do you think that guy's obsessed with you? What's his purpose? He didn't send anything to the newspapers last time that we know of. What's his deal if nothing gets published? Or do you think it will, this time? Does it get you in trouble with your NDA if he's sniffed something out that's supposed to stay secret? Is it to dig dirt on you or to scare you or—what?"

Blinking at the torrent of questions he unleashed on me, I brushed my thumb over his barbell. "I don't know. I doubt Emmett does, either. It's starting to feel like he's… collecting data, but for what? If my biological father has found out about me and hired a PI, then…"

"That would be the worst PI ever, if he is one," Edward finished for me. "Showing up behind a minor's window in the middle of the night with a camera? Showing up to our date? What the fuck kind of information would that give him that couldn't be gathered through other means, and how isn't he better at staying hidden?"

Edward almost gave me goosebumps with how smart his questions were.

"I know."

Since the moment it had struck me that Garrett might've hired a PI, I'd almost began to hope for that answer (because that made my NDA more secure), but Edward's questions made the possibility feel as unlikely as ever. Edward couldn't have known that my biological father was rich enough to buy a small country, so for Garrett to skimp on hiring a PI was aggressively unlikely. Had he found out about me, he would've found a PI who figured out the number of hairs on Jake's back without so much as a shadow in our backyard.

"Even if your biological father is dirt poor who could only hire the cheapest PIs, what that guy is doing still doesn't make sense in that context. To me, it sounds more like your stalker is here for your NDA or just a regular creep. But even then, I have… questions."

"Me, too. I'm sorry I can't give you more answers. It's not only the NDA, it's that… I just don't know."

Edward slid his hand underneath my T-shirt, squeezed my waist, and searched my eyes with a concerned, anxious affection that made my heart flutter.

"My mom's ex-boyfriend stalked her when I was a kid. I don't think I understood much except that mom was terrified, and that scared me. She had a restraining order against him, but she still couldn't do much about him showing up in places. There was a time I wasn't allowed to go out with mom without dad, but the guy ended up in prison for something else and then… we moved."

"That's… wow. Can't imagine being a kid seeing that. I'm sorry that happened to you but I'm glad she escaped."

"I don't think I ever really thought about it much until now. You'd think I'd be better equipped to take care of you but…"

I brushed my thumb over his frown. "Hey, you did everything right. I'm glad you didn't leave me alone. I know the man is probably harmless, I just feel so—" I shuddered. "—violated? That's a strong word, but… none of it is your fault and I'm sorry I got you into this mess."

"Don't be sorry, fuck. I just wish I could do more. Do you think it'll get better once your series is out?"

"I think it'll get worse before it gets better."

Edward's jaw clenched, but his face cleared a moment later. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you only have a side part with mostly voice acting. Whatever your stalker thinks he has on you, it should blow over pretty quickly."

I'd told him the first lie weeks ago (that I had a small part), and I'd stuck with it. Edward had concluded the second (voice acting) part all on his own based on my previous work and how much I'd been to the studio (as opposed to the set) in the short span of time we'd known each other, but I couldn't be sorry for his verdict. It made sense, too. How often would the main character in a series do voice-overs that consistently lost her voice? Given my previous roles, me being some side-creature made much more sense.

When dad questioned me today about why Edward was under the impression that I had a small part in the series, I had to admit that I was scared.

I was scared of how smart he was. I was buying time.

Edward had never commented on Underground Memories, neither the books nor the series, but he'd have to have lived under a rock not to know it existed. I wanted to make sure that, if something other than the trailer leaked before… before I got to experience all my weightless, butterfly-y firsts with him, I could admit to being the mountain dragon, the abunyips, the aswangs, or all three.

If needed, it would buy me more time to actually have my firsts with him, and I could only hope he wouldn't feel like I took advantage of him. I'd asked for my first kiss with the clear reason that I wanted to experience it before I had to do it on camera, but I did not want to experience my other real firsts for the same reason. Unless Vince radically changed the script from the second book, the second season did not contain sex scenes or anything of that nature (for Nala), so I was relatively safe there.

I wanted to experience my firsts with Edward because… because he was this incredible guy who made me feel safe and breathless and adored, and the fact that I was on a timeline only reinforced my determination to have it be him before he… escaped the madness and broke up with me.

The sheer thought made my heart fill with lead.

Would he feel angry? Betrayed? Would he break up with me over it? My biggest fear was that trusting him with this information now wouldn't change the outcome, only the timeline, because… Edward already felt self-conscious over where he lived. While he hadn't made outright derogatory comments about anyone's differing financial background, it was clear that he often only shared personal information because he'd seen where I came from. What would he do once he found out that it was not my mom's job that moved us to Smyrna but mine? And not just that, but I'd probably have to get used to a daily dose of paparazzi at least until the end of the series, if not forever.

Suddenly, I felt like I was in a stolen, frozen moment in time with a beautiful guy I couldn't keep. Not only the one that got away but the one that would get away, and if he didn't think I was worth my (so far hidden) baggage, I'd have to let him go. Nothing in the world would convince him to stay if my fame scared him off, and one day, he would point at a movie trailer in a cinema to a friend and joke about taking my virginity.

The thought made me want to cry, but even the risk that I might lose him didn't deter me from wanting to be with him, now.

Trying to bring myself back to the present and reassure myself that he was, in fact, real, I traced the contours of his face with my fingertips, his shaved jawline, his beautiful eyebrows, his straight nose. He kissed my thumb when I brushed over it, and my sadness must've shown on my face because his eyes shone with a torn affection.

"Hey now," he whispered, resting his forehead against mine, squeezing my ribcage with his warm palm and squishing me tight against him. "I would never let anything happen to you."

"I know." Tingly in the full force of his care, I breathed him in. "It's just that… my parents and I fought so hard not to let Emmett hover two inches from my neck wherever I go, especially when I'm dating, and now… imagine going to the movies only to have him stare at us from two rows away? Or a restaurant where he's just watching, watching, watching… It's not even that I care whether he can hear our conversations or see us kissing, there's just—there's experiences I'd rather have without an audience, and spending time with you is one of them."

Not saying anything, Edward covered my neck with his palm and nuzzled my hairline. I took a sip of water because my hoarseness got worse when I spoke longer, but I persevered.

"I know that Emmett's my bodyguard, but if you and I wanted to go on a fun picnic on a sunny day, I'd also want to, you know," I stifled my smile, unwilling to admit to wanting to get carried away making out with him, but the way Edward's gaze lingered on my lips sent goosebumps down my back. He did know. "Even how we are here—can you imagine Emmett sitting in the armchair just across from us right now? Tell me honestly that we'd sit exactly like this, talk about the same topics in the same way, kiss and tease and… even if we told him not to interrupt us, it's not the same." I slid my fingers in his buzz cut, tracing little patterns behind his head, afloat in his listening, silent gaze. "I don't want an audience when I'm with you."

His eyes blazed with affection.

"What do you think?"

Edward kissed me and hovered inches from my face. "I think we have a few options." His baritone voice was confident but quiet. "First, we'll have to see if Emmett actually wants to hover two inches from your neck in public places like you think he would. Second, if nothing else, we can keep dating without going out much—"

"But I want to go out with you," I complained in a voice I wasn't too proud of.

"Me, too, baby. I'm just listing options."

I stayed quiet.

"Third, we could collude with Emmett so that I could take you out of Atlanta to visit my gramps for the weekend, sometime. We could leave before the crack of dawn and ask Emmett to make sure my bike doesn't have a GPS tracker and that we're not being followed."

"I'm guessing that option is meant to soften the blow of the second one."

The corner of his lips rose. "Maybe."

"I'd love to, though, regardless. Where does gramps live?"

"On a mountainside near Suches. He used to work as the Deputy Forest Supervisor for the Chattahoochee and Oconee National Forests, so his home is pretty remote. It's a two-hour drive from here."

"That sounds… amazing."

"It's not fancy but he has the best view, and we could have a bonfire and spend the night. Would your parents allow you to?"

"I've never really been away from them like that, but I can't imagine I couldn't convince them. Would give them a breather from me, too."

Edward stifled his smile. "You're a good kid."

"I spend way too much time together with them, trust me, and you'll change your mind when you hear my fourth suggestion, anyway."

Edward arched an eyebrow.

"Listen me out, okay?" When he nodded, I traced his eyebrow with my thumb. "We change nothing about our dating, nothing at all. Because—" Edward opened his mouth, but I pinched his lips together, making him look like a funny duck. "So yes, there's a creepy guy who wants photos of me, but… does it matter at this point that I desperately avoid him? He already has photos of us together, so more photos won't really reveal anything he doesn't already know. If he publishes them next week with… whatever he has, what's three more photos of us kissing in different clothes going to change? And what would Emmett do if he caught him, anyway? Give him a stern warning? He's not doing anything against the law, not right now. Emmett can't arrest him. He could call the police, but the guy could easily argue that he's just taking photos in a public place. Either way, let's say the man does publish photos of us in a few days with… whatever info he has on me. Is the world really going to be all shocked out of their mind that a fifteen-year-old girl in some indie series has a boyfriend?"

Edward pressed his lips together until the pink disappeared, clearly skeptical. "We can't be sure he's harmless, baby."

"I'm not saying I'm sure of that, although I kind of am." I pinched the string of his hoodie and slid my fingers along it. "All I'm saying is that, Emmett's presence is moot when I have you, and… I'm tempted to tell my parents that I want to rebel."

The amusement in Edward's eyes was unmistakable. "You want to tell your parents that you want to rebel? Have you ever—gone against them?"

"Of course I have!"

"Like when?"

"Sometimes I—wear my mom's clothes when she tells me not to."

Edward dropped his forehead against my neck as he laughed. "Scandalous," he mocked.

"Hey! I've gone against them loads of times!"

"Yeah? Like when?"

I paused, feeling my face flush, tempted to make stuff up but too lazy to carry through. "Okay, so maybe I'm little miss goody-goody. But have you met my parents? They're amazing. I dare you to find a topic where you couldn't just convince them to see your perspective if you're not a total moron."

"Fair enough." Edward's eyes twinkled. "So what's your rebellion about? Are you going to refuse having Emmett around when I'm with you?"

"Not refuse, just… keep things as they are, if I can. Like I said, I don't think it makes a huge difference at this point. What do you think?"

"I'm missing half the data, so my opinion doesn't matter. If whatever is controversial about your role isn't a big deal, I'm with you. If what I don't know changes the risk of this decision, I'm… probably not. I can't ask you to violate your NDA for me, so… I'll have to trust you. But if your parents are with you on this, you'd better not go off wandering the streets alone in your rebellion, okay? Always take me with you."

Weightless in his sharp, intense gaze, I nodded.

"Feather-heart," Edward warned, voice low and rough. "Promise."

"I promise," I whispered before he pressed his lips against mine.

…