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Scheduled for Friday
by Anton M.

41: Three Things

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Tuesday, February 7 (cont.)

Emmett's shoulders were tense as he pushed his sunglasses up his nose and muttered, "I'm sorry."

His tic hadn't ceased since we'd left Edward in the parking lot—with a thousand apologies—to return to the set and call (ugh) any ADs to see if anyone was still on set. Our second second AD Timothy unlocked my trailer just long enough for me to wash my hands and take off my black lenses, and I threw myself at his enormous frame to give him a hug for his help. Never one for shows of emotions, Timothy awkwardly patted my back.

I had two sets of black scleral contacts, so technically I could've taken them off and thrown them away, but they were custom made for my eyes. They cost over three thousand per lens. They had to reflect light just right for the camera, and while the lenses were (obviously) provided for me by the studio, I was not eager to find out how our costume designers Keith and Seth would've taken my casual discarding of costly custom-made accessories.

"It wasn't your fault," I told Emmett, still in a bit of a daze from the fuckup. "I was texting Edward, I didn't look up. Mom left in a rush, Thiago was on a call, and you…"

Emmett's tic got so much worse that he had to slow down the car. I touched his elbow. "You okay?"

"Fine," he gritted out.

"We got careless, that's all. But I guess it's safe to say that it is very unlikely Edward's ever read the books, or he would've known. He's a terrible actor."

Nala had (famously) light green eyes. But her entire eye, including the eye whites, turned dark green whenever she heard the last words of the dead. I'd had at least four different sets of custom scleral lenses made (with a computerized map of my cornea's curvature), all in different shades of dark green, but the camera couldn't capture the color unless they used a downright silly shade of emerald which neither Keith nor Seth wanted to do.

At first, Tanya had insisted on finding the right color without CGI—because it wasn't like dyeing my eyes with the right amount of detail in post-production was free, either—but Keith, Seth and our VFX supervisor Lou wore her down. It was important to Tanya that Mike and the extras have a real reaction to my eerie eyes, so, in the end, they opted for black scleral lenses, which would've confused the hell out of any fan of the books. In Underground Memories, entirely black sclera belonged to the rare descendants of those who could cross to the underworld, the kifo (who were also some of the most powerful healers). Nala's eyes shouldn't have been turning black up until the fifth book, but an executive decision had to be made and Tanya agreed that the potential outrage was worth it. Custom-fitting tens of thousands worth of lenses wasn't worth getting the tone just right for the camera, and she decided to trust Lou to adjust the shade in post-production without making Nala appear ridiculous.

I didn't actually know if they'd found a shade of dark green that didn't look absurd rather than haunting, but I'd learned to swallow my (sometimes strong) opinions on the books vs series long ago.

Well, most of the time. I'd definitely had a few passionate arguments with Vince when he wanted to make last minute changes that would've provided beautiful drama for the screen but veered absurdly far from the core of Nala's character.

Twenty five minutes of self-recrimination later, Emmett pulled back into the parking lot next to Edward and his bike. I hopped out of the truck and into the warmish, half-cloudy, sixty-four degree weather. Judging by his clipped, annoyed wording, Edward was on the phone with his aunt. He wore ripped gray jeans and a black hoodie (his usual jacket was thrown over his bike), and I adored how his weary eyes softened when he cut the call, walked up to me and leaned down to kiss me. He lingered against my lips.

I burst into a million little butterflies from the simplicity of the moment. I had a hot, fit, hands-stained, buzz-cut-having, eyebrow-pierced boyfriend who looked at me with such gentle eyes I could've floated away.

"Did you get in trouble?" Edward asked.

I searched his eyes for signs of recognition or fear but couldn't find any. There was just no way he'd read the books, or he would've at least suspected that I was playing a kifo in Underground Memories, but it was a narrow enough escape that I still felt shaken. Telling him not to tell anyone about this mishap would've drawn unnecessary attention to the importance of the eyes, and yet not telling him increased the chances of him finding out about Underground Memories by accident.

And in the middle of it all, I was still bound by my NDA. I was hoping to get to know him well enough that, in a few weeks, I could start figuring out how to drop heavy enough hints that I didn't technically break my NDA but he'd still get a better idea of the insanity ahead of me. Hell, I might've even been ready to intentionally breach my NDA.

But right now? I was too scared that he'd run to encourage him to question anything.

"Not yet." I slid my hand up and down his lower back. "I'm sorry for leaving you here to wait for me."

Edward lifted his shoulder in a shrug but held me closer to him. "So I guess you're not playing a human, huh?"

Well, technically, Nala wasn't human even if she belonged to the human race in the books.

"No," I confirmed, heart nearly palpitating out of my chest in spite of my small smile. "Not human."

Edward kissed me one more time before we glanced at Emmett in his truck behind me. We couldn't see his face because of the tint of the glass but his silhouette indicated that he was (thankfully) ignoring us.

Edward shoved his jacket in his backpack before we dumped it in Emmett's backseat.

"Was that your aunt? Do you have to take care of Riley tonight?"

"You know it."

I put on my (mom's) bomber jacket. "Why does it fall on you to take care of him? Why doesn't your dad do it? He's your aunt's brother, right? Does he work long hours or what? What does your dad do, anyway?"

Edward's alarmed eyes snapped to mine before he took a breath so deep his chest rose and fell with it.

"If we start talking about my dad we'll do nothing else tonight."

Even though I'd literally been to his house (before he lived in it), he'd been reluctant to take me there, and I had struggled not to press the issue. I'd lived in trailer parks most of my life, so his unwillingness to have me visit had confused me.

But this, this could've explained a lot. Could his reluctance come from his father?

Edward assessed me, looking at me in silence before he ran a frustrated hand over his buzz cut. "Do you want to meet him?"

"Not if you don't want me to."

The corner of his mouth rose, but there was no smile in his eyes. "It's not that. I guess… we can get it over with. Do you want to drop by on Sunday?"

Daunted by his gloomy mood, I stepped in front of him and took his hands in mine, facing his palms and intertwining our fingers. I buried my nose in his chest and shut my eyes, getting a whiff of his lovely, breathtaking scent.

"I'm sorry," I muttered into his chest. "You're the most patient human alive, and I'm just… I'm nosy. You don't have to introduce me to your dad if you don't want to. I'm sorry I'm always full of questions. I'll tone it down."

Edward's groan vibrated against my cheek before he engulfed me in a warm hug and buried his nose in my hairdo.

"Your curiosity is the best. Never change that." His hum sounded frustrated. "I just… I don't want you to see me differently after you meet my dad, but, of course—you will. And I can't, I can't undo that."

I squeezed him. "Nothing your dad says or does will ever change the way I see you."

"Promise?"

I curled my fingers into his muscles under his hoodie, especially my pinkie. "Pinkie promise."

After a few minutes of me enjoying his warmth and his scent all around me, Edward pulled back, kissed my nose, and turned me around in his arms. Squeezing my chest (and arms), he whispered against my ear. "Tell me three things you have to do to turn my bike on."

I slid the tips of my fingers under his waistband, touching his warm skin and turning my head. "Caress tenderly, squish my boobs against it and whisper naughty nothings in its engine?"

Edward's grumbly laugh was so loud it nearly broke my eardrum. Crouching, he let go of me, and his body was still shaking when he pulled me against his chest again and grinned against my cheek.

"Fuck, baby," Edward whispered in a near-growl. "Don't make me jealous of my bike or I might need a live demonstration."

"With you being the bike, I hope," I said, boldly, feeling blood rush to my face the moment I'd said it, but Edward's groan vibrated all the way through me as he hugged my upper body from behind.

"Bella," he rumble-complained, nuzzling the crook of my neck before he decided against whatever he'd intended to say. Feeling giddy, warm and adored in his arms, I watched the brown hair on his muscled forearms move with my breaths before I kissed his skin.

"Turn the gas on, turn the key, and hold the choke?" I answered the question he'd asked a minute ago.

Edward hummed in agreement. "And what if you want to kick start it?"

"Don't keep the clutch lever in, or it won't start. And do it when the bike is warm or it'll take a while."

"That's right." I could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. "And how would you turn the bike off?"

"Throw up all over it."

Edward laughed.

I grinned against his hairy forearm. "If it was a car I'd say turn the key, so… I'll go with that."

He let go of me, stepped closer to the bike and tilted his head toward it. "Where's the throttle and what does it do?"

I gaped. I knew the answer but I wanted to start driving the goddamn beast before my grandchildren passed away.

"God, you're all structure and method. Will I have to write a research paper on Yamaha XS 650s before you allow me to drive yours?"

I adored the way Edward's eyes twinkled when he laughed.

"I'll consider it if you don't know the answer."

"It's here." I pointed at the right handle of the bike. "And it controls the speed with which I'll run you over if you make me have a PhD in Motorcycle Studies before getting to drive your bike."

Barely suppressing his laugh, Edward assessed me with a sparkly, vulnerable intensity that made hair in the back of my neck rise. All he did was touch my jaw with his knuckles, tilting my chin up and searching my eyes with that secret tender gaze in his eyes, and my heart went all supernova with affection.

"What?" I asked, voice breathy with emotion.

Edward bit back his smile and melted my heart with his kiss but he didn't explain himself. We went over a few key details before he let me kick up the side stand, but he took hold of the back of the bike when I nearly fell over under its weight.

"It's not a good bike to practice on. It's too heavy for you."

My tiptoes barely touched the pavement when I stumbled on the bike, and only if I kept myself awkwardly tilted, but Edward straddled the bike behind me. One of his arms snuck around me and pulled me against his firm, warm chest. Unfairly, both of his feet touched the ground.

A burst of tingles shot through me when his warm breath brushed against my ear. "I'll be here every step of the way."

I felt his soft gaze observing my face as I turned the gas on under us, held the choke down all the way, and turned the key at the same time, just like he'd instructed. I yelped in surprise when the bike rumbled to life. Its power filled me, but I could've never turned it on without Edward holding me.

"Keep holding the choke down!" Edward yelled, covering my right arm and making sure my fingers were holding it down. "Easy, easy. Keep holding it."

"Helmets!" Emmett shouted from his truck, having opened the side window. Abrupt silence followed when Edward turned off the bike.

"Not yet," Edward replied, voice weirdly loud now that the bike was off. "I have to talk to her. We'll never go faster than walking and we'll stick to the parking lot."

Emmett narrowed his eyes.

"You cannot let her drive your bike alone."

"I'm not an idiot."

Emmett's reluctant half-permission was followed by two hours of Edward trying to cull my enthusiasm, and we circled the parking lot more times than I could've counted. I turned Edward's bike on again and again (even kick started it twice), and I tested all the lights and tiny details I knew nothing about until Edward was satisfied that I could perform simple actions reasonably automatically. I felt drunk with power—amazed that more people didn't own motorcycles—even though Edward did not trust me with his sensitive throttle quite yet. Even so, we filled the parking lot with laughter. I felt alive and adored in his eyes, so featherlight I nearly flew away when he rested his jaw against my shoulder as we drove three miles per hour around the mostly empty parking lot.

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A/N: Your thoughts are the best! Thank you for sharing them :) see you soon!