…

Scheduled for Friday
by Anton M.

37: First (But Seventh) Date

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Saturday, February 4

"Do you think he left? I should've checked for his jacket when I went to the bathroom. I can't see his bike in the driveway but he could've easily hidden it."

"Charlie…"

"I should've given her the speakers myself. Scared him a little."

"Absolutely not," mom replied. "Honey, you cannot do that. You know that teenagers will find a way, and I'd rather they have a safe space. If he stayed, that's between them. If they had sex, that's between them."

"She's fifteen! They've been dating for two nanoseconds."

"Don't deny that she's much more mature than either of us were at her age."

"I hate it. I'll never forgive Vince's nephew for suggesting she got the role because she's an exotic-looking kid. She's been doubling down on growing up and proving everyone wrong ever since."

"It didn't help," mom replied. "But you'd be naive to think that she wouldn't have grown up too fast anyway. She spends too much time with adults. Our daughter is not a kid anymore, honey. You have to let her make her own choices."

It wasn't my intention to listen in on my parents' private conversation, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't brush my teeth exceptionally quietly when the voices traveled perfectly from the kitchen to the bathroom. Jake was still asleep on my bed, so my parents had no clue I'd woken up.

"She's fifteen," dad repeated. "She can't legally consent to anything. Edward must know he'd be in trouble."

"Romeo and Juliet laws protect him."

"No, they don't. They only reduce the conduct from a felony to a misdemeanor. That's still up to a year in jail."

"So what, are you going to tell on him? You don't think there's millions of teenagers in the country ignoring these laws with nobody telling on anyone?"

"How are you so okay with this?"

"How are you not?!" mom replied, raising her voice. "Charlie, you are delusional if you think the options are whether or not we allow them to have sex. Not even close. Our only options are whether they do it safely under a roof or in some shady park. I will not be my mother. All I care about is whether Bella is comfortable with whatever they do, regardless of what the law says about her age. That is all I care about. They've been friends for a month. If she feels ready, that's enough for me, and I wouldn't blame her one bit for rushing into it."

I stopped pretending I was brushing teeth when dad grumbled something under his breath that I couldn't catch from a distance.

"I'm not encouraging her, I'm supporting her!" mom almost shouted. "Honey, she will have every camera in the world up in her face after the trailer drops, and none of us can be assured that it won't leak. It could drop tomorrow. If our daughter wants to have those experiences with a boy who likes her before every single piece of our lives gets thrown off the bridge, do you honestly feel it would be fair to deny her—even if we could? If she decides to share whatever happened last night, and they had sex already, you will be supportive. Because it's not some tragic event. It's okay. The pill is incredibly effective nowadays, and you know she takes it like clockwork. We can only hope the boy has been safe, but I trust our daughter to make sure of that if they don't use a condom. It'll be okay."

I couldn't hear dad's answer, so I rinsed my mouth as quietly as I could before I snuck into the hallway in my pajamas. Jake joined me, stretching before he sat down and observed me like the judgmental king he was. Hoping he wouldn't tap-tap-tap into the kitchen with his fluffy butt and give me away, I crouched and petted him.

"What's this about, honey?" mom asked, much quieter. "And don't say you don't like Edward because I won't believe you. You guys were thick as thieves the other night, and he clearly adores her. He's gentle with her and respectful of her. Out of all the potential guys she could've found to rush into anything, if that's what she's doing, we pretty much won the lottery. So what's your problem?"

I was holding my breath for an answer when Jake, mistaking a wrapper sound for his breakfast, slipped from my hands and ran to the kitchen.

I followed Jake when my parents stopped talking.

Mom was sitting sideways in dad's lap, and both looked up when I entered. Mom, as always, was wearing impeccable clothes, a light blue silken shirt with navy trousers, while dad wore his ratty striped pajamas.

The sun was bright outside.

"Good morning," I said, walking over to get a coffee mug. "Could you keep it down? You're going to wake Edward up."

Dad's face paled in horror. He pushed mom off his lap and practically ran to my bedroom as I poured myself a cup of coffee. I was adding cream to it when dad returned to the kitchen looking like he'd aged a few years.

"That was not funny."

Knowing that he'd found my bed empty, I grinned. "It was pretty funny."

Mom observed me. "How much did you hear, honey?"

Wiping sleep from my eyes, I leaned against the kitchen counter. "Enough," I replied.

My parents locked eyes, packed with meaning, but I didn't volunteer the obvious information they were looking for—if only to make them walk the walk after being so good at talking the talk for so many years. It was easy to banter about condoms when I went out with Peter because nothing would've happened on my first date with a guy I barely knew, but Edward in my bedroom had a wholly different potential for shit to get real.

Dad took his coffee cup and leaned against the counter next to me, clearing his throat. "Sweetie, it's just that… you're so young."

"Oh-kay, if that's how you want to play it." I turned to face him. "Look me in the eye and tell me you waited nine plus something months to have sex with mom."

Mom stifled her smile behind dad while dad reddened. "We are not talking about us."

I grinned 'cause he might as well have given me the answer. "Thought so."

"Sweetie, we were both—we were both the same age."

"Ah, so the problem is not that I'm too young, it's that I didn't find a younger guy. Gotcha."

"No honey, I— no. That's not what I meant."

Knowing I could've put dad out of his misery but chose not to, mom laughed silently into her cup. Dad ran his palm over his bald head before taking a sip of his coffee.

He couldn't quite meet my eyes.

"But you didn't—" His pause was pregnant with meaning. "—did you?"

I arched an innocent eyebrow at him.

"Didn't what, dad?"

He grunted. "You know what."

"I remember endless discussions with my parents telling me to never assume what someone else is thinking, even if you think it's implied. Can you clarify?"

Mom hid her laughter against the back of her hand. Dad gave her an exasperated look. "Can you believe the smart-ass we raised?"

"Be careful what you wish for." I bumped dad's hip with mine. "So? I believe you have a question for me?"

Dad, clearly annoyed, narrowed his eyes at me, but mom's laughter must've done something to him because the corner of his mouth rose. And yet, I kept drinking my coffee, waiting, only for him to scratch his beard in silence.

I laughed when he reddened further.

"Way to trust me, dad," I said, locking eyes with mom. "We played chess and listened to music and made out. My age came up, and we talked about it. He left ten minutes before midnight. So it was a bit later than he should've left, but… nothing happened."

Dad deflated like a burst balloon while mom returned my smile.

"I can't promise you that we'll wait. I hope we will for Edward's peace of mind, but whatever ends up happening, I can promise you that we'll be responsible. Okay?"

Mom gave me a toothless, affectionate smile. "Thank you, sweetie."

It was a strange conversation, funnier for the fact that my dad (who was capable of teasing anyone about anything) felt so awkward about it. I finished my coffee and hugged dad extra tight before asking mom for her cutest dress for my date with Edward tonight.

…

Red lines dented the skin on Edward's forehead as he took off his helmet and set his motorcycle on its stand in the orange sunset. He wore possibly the newest, best fitting dark blue jeans he owned, and the hoodie peeking out from under his gray jacket seemed like the one I'd slept in.

I felt giddy and a bit self-conscious as he took in my knee-length boots, patterned black tights and a flowy teal miniskirt under mom's black bomber jacket. Unlike the last time I walked to Edward from across the parking lot, I stopped inches from his body, took his cold pinkie finger in my hand and tilted my head up.

It was easy to forget how tall he was when we made out sitting or lying on my bed, but Edward's eyes twinkled when he had to bend to brush his lips against mine.

"Hi," he whispered, pulling me closer and sliding his hands up and down my back. He licked his lips and met me half-way when I tiptoed to kiss him again.

"Hi," I whispered, lost in the way he held me to him. "Good day?"

He touched my nose with his, side to side, his warm, glacier-minty breath ghosting over my lips. "Better now."

"Well, I hope to make it even better," I replied, pointing behind me with my head. "Dad and Emmett have a surprise for you."

Edward's eyes caught Emmett's truck from across the parking lot. His lips parted and eyes widened with concern. "They're not—they're not staying, are they?"

"Absolutely not." I took his hand and squeezed it. "C'mon."

I couldn't shake off the drug-dealy feel of the situation, Emmett opening the trunk of a shiny black truck with tinted glass to reveal two helmets. I'd tried mine on at the store, picking a sleek dark gray one with a slightly different shape and size than Edward's.

Emmett had taken a photo of the brand and size of Edward's old helmet and given the salesperson a description of where the helmet pressed against Edward's forehead. Ideally, we would've taken Edward to the store, but we knew he would've fought us all night if we didn't just present him with a single option where the initial decision of buying it was already made. (Emmett was ready to go replace it the next day if it didn't fit.)

Edward's gaze bounced from dad to Emmett to me, almost in fear. "What's this?"

"It's your new helmet," Emmett replied, picking it up and handing it over as he took Edward's current one from him. "Happy birthday."

I gaped. "It's your—when's your birthday?"

As if in autopilot, Edward ignored my question and put the helmet over his head. It was shiny and aerodynamic, a slightly darker gray than mine with a fog-resistant shield.

"Sooner than yours," dad told me.

Edward bent his neck front to back and sideways. He flipped the visor open and closed before he removed the helmet and carefully, almost reverently set it back in the trunk.

"Thank you, I—" Eyes still wide, he cleared his throat, and his voice felt tortured. "It's too much. I can't accept it."

From anyone else, the words would've been laced with pretense, like when rich people visited each other with expensive bottles of wine and accompanied everything with, 'Oh, you shouldn't have.'

Edward's reaction was not like that.

His words were an outright rejection of the gift, not that we hadn't expected it.

"Yes, you can," dad replied softly.

Edward's eyes locked with mine, and not only did he seem stricken but he looked like he was going to cry.

"No, I—that's okay." He pressed his lips tightly together. "I'm—really happy you got one for Bella, but—it'll take me a year to pay you back for this. I—I can't. Thank you."

"It's a gift," dad insisted. "There's no paying back a gift."

"No. No. It's okay. It's really okay."

"My friend works at a helmet store," Emmett said, crossing his arms. "He can get crazy discounts for me. It didn't cost nearly as much as you think it did, and I don't trust an old helmet that doesn't fit. I insist that you use the new one whenever you drive with Bella because if something happens to either of you, we want you both safe and alive. I don't care how you feel about the helmet, you're going to use it. Now, does it fit you?"

It did. Emmett's size estimate was spot-on.

Edward fought us for so long that I thought we'd lose our bowling alley lane reservation, but the reassurance that it cost a third of its official price (it didn't, dad paid sixteen hundred in total for the two helmets), that it was for my safety, too (Emmett really knew how to make Edward feel bad), and that Edward could pay my dad back by tutoring me (dad and I would continue to fight him tooth and nail, but as long as it got him to accept the helmet for now, we were good).

Not only that, but, for the first time in their lives, my parents had touched the 100K income bracket last year, so with us living below our means even without my money, they could actually afford this gift. Dad warned me that it would be my only birthday present this year, but the gift I wanted couldn't be bought anyway (oh no, I bet there's a Disney song for that), so it didn't matter.

I chose two sleek helmets in a similar shade of dark gray for the world's most selfish reason. If Edward didn't outright reject my impending fame and money (and, gut-churningly, it was looking more likely every day that he would), the color was inconspicuous enough in traffic to at least not draw unwanted attention on us.

"I don't know what to say," Edward said, finally, still hesitant to accept our gift but at least on the fence enough to be holding it. He hugged my dad. He hugged Emmett, who reassured Edward that he could grab his previous helmet (to keep as back-up) later from our place.

Finally, after fifteen minutes of arguing, Emmett and dad pulled out of the parking lot, leaving us staring after them with our brand new matchy-matchy helmets under our arms.

Edward crushed me in a hug, pressing his lips against my hair and holding me for a few minutes. His zipper was cold against my cheek but his breath was warm, and I tightened my grip around him.

"I can never admit now that I had something for you."

Warmth squeezed my chest. "You had something for me?"

"Not anymore I don't."

"No fair." Smiling but not pushing the topic, I pulled him down to a kiss before we walked into the bowling alley.

As annoying as it was to have mini-fights with Edward about gifts and money, I was glad to see that once Edward accepted the outcome of a discussion, he didn't continue arguing (or at least not resentfully). He made a few comments about taking up simultaneous interpretation of Mandarin since it seemed to pay so well, about his dad thinking he'd robbed a store, but I was glad that, overall, he didn't allow our new helmets to overshadow our date.

A thirty-something black woman with straight hair, glasses, and 'Ansley' on her name tag greeted Edward by name and gave us a key to a locker. I disinfected the bowling shoes we chose (mom insisted) before slipping out of my boots and into the rad, slightly silly-looking shoes.

Huge silver pipes created patterns on the high black ceiling of the building, thirty or forty lanes spread out on the side, and a large mirror covered the wall on top of the bowling pins. A mix of blue and white lights shone on the loud Saturday night crowds. We could stay until ten PM before the lack of over-21-year-old companion would get us kicked out of the place, but that still left us with roughly four hours of fun.

I was about to excuse myself to go to the bathroom when Edward wrapped his arms around my front, crushed me against his chest, and held his mouth to my ear. "You're beautiful."

Weightless in his arms, I grinned, faced him, and picked on his new but familiar three-colored hoodie I'd grown to love. His gaze travelled over my light violet turtleneck tucked in a high-waist miniskirt.

I tried to remember how to breathe when his fingers played with my waistband.

"Thank you." I took his hand and kissed his lovely, permanently dirty knuckles. "You're cute. Love the hoodie."

"Had to make sure you wouldn't plagiarize my outfit again," Edward replied, eyes sparkling. He wrapped himself around me when I face-planted against his chest in laughter.

I was bursting with affection at this effortless, fun man who was on a date with me.

Edward was waiting for me when I returned from the bathroom, and we walked to the very end of the building. The last bowling lane was closed off with a black line divider, like the ones used for security lines in an airport, but Edward casually lifted the barrier tape, motioned for me to go inside, and joined me. I gaped.

A few people in adjacent lanes did, too.

"Why's this closed off? Are we even allowed to—?"

"My aunt used to work with Ansley," Edward replied. "Not the aunt you've met. Mom's sister. How do you think I got a reservation for a Saturday night to this place with two days' notice?"

I searched his eyes. "So what's the catch?"

"The catch is—" With laughter in his eyes, Edward took a blue bowling ball, released it, and immediately took hold of my waist to nudge me to the center to watch the ball travel towards the striped pins.

The lane was tilted.

The left (outside wall) side of the lane must've been at least five to ten degrees higher than the right side of it, and not consistently. The uneven surface peaked at the center, where the side seemed, maybe, a whopping fifteen degrees higher than the other side.

It wasn't a bowling lane, it was a mountain lane.

"Ohhh." I pushed my sleeves up to my elbows. "Be prepared to have the floor wiped with you, Mr. Grandmaster, 'cause I suck at bowling but I'm great at mini golf."

Edward laughed.

"Mighty sure of yourself, are you, Little Miss NDA."

Positively giddy with affection, I pulled him into a kiss but grinned too widely to kiss him properly. I hummed against his soft lips. "Watch and learn, Mr. Hot Piercing."

I was bluffing, but it was too much fun to shit-talk with Edward to care that I had no clue what I was doing.

Edward licked his lips, pausing as the corner of his lips rose, almost cockily. "You like my piercing, huh?"

I pulled his head down and smacked a kiss against his barbell, whispering, "Mine now," feeling his soft gaze send a jolt of fire through me.

By total beginner's luck and (what I pretended was) a whole lot of strategy from mini golf, I got a triple strike (a Turkey) while Edward scored one strike and two misses. Just to get a rise out of him, I lectured him about strike pockets, but Edward only called me Princess Bahati and made me use my non-dominant right hand to make the playing field more equal.

By sheer blind luck, I struck gold one more time with my right hand (getting a four-bagger), but the luck left me as Edward evened the score after eight frames. On my ninth turn, Edward stood less than half an inch behind me, breathing on my ear and surrounding me with his arm as he played with my waistband.

"I believe in you, Little Miss Secret-keeper," he whispered, his low voice dripping with sarcasm.

Wanting to kick him in the groin but also kiss him until we were high, I ignored him, took my position, and released the ball.

Edward gave me a shit-eating grin when I missed.

"Aww, were you distracted, Miss Curly Princess Hair?"

I would've blown him a mighty raspberry had that not been the cutest nickname since the history of nicknames.

"You just wait, Mr. How's-the-Weather-Up-There."

I waited until he picked a ball to jump on his back. He let out a puff of air but curled his arm around my knee with one hand as I adjusted myself. I wrapped my arms around his neck and breathed against it. Ignoring me, Edward stifled his smile, took his position, released the ball, and…

Oh, the bastard got a strike with me on his back.

"You were saying, Little Feather?"

Infuriating, adorable man.

We ordered delicious junk food in the middle of our games, coke and fries and greasy finger food, and the next three games passed with acrobatics, laughter and a total ignorance of the rules of the game. Somewhere between inventing sillier nicknames for each other, Mr. Evolution-Made-A-Mistake-with-Teeth and Miss I-Plagiarize-My-Boyfriend's-Outfits stopped keeping score, and by the time we'd been at it for an hour and a half, Edward and I slumped on the nearby couch.

It took a lot of energy to keep distracting each other.

Barely panting, Edward straightened his arms on the back of the couch, looking attractive as ever, all lean and wide-shouldered, eyeing me with a bright, sparkling gaze as I curled up against him. I wore shorts under my miniskirt, so it didn't really matter that my skirt revealed bits of my upper thigh when Edward pulled my legs over his. I shivered as I sunk against his warmth.

"Cold?" he asked, surprised.

I would've been fine had I not been sweating.

"I can get my—"

He was already taking off his hoodie in that grabbing-the-back and tearing-it-off style men mastered, and before I knew it, he held the head hole open for me as I pretended I wasn't drowning in the world's most toe-curling scent. I lifted my ass when I was done putting it on, half-sitting on it. It was so long it covered my skirt, and I patted my hair to make sure I hadn't produced a poof-factory when I noticed Edward's half-hooded, dark eyes drinking me in.

"Fuck you're adorable," he rumbled against my ear, squishing me against him and covering my thigh with his large, warm palm.

I could've grown wings with how precious I felt in his arms.

Squeezing my thigh with one hand and brushing his thumb over my jaw with the other, Edward observed my face in silence and pressed a feather-light kiss against my lips before his gaze returned to his hoodie on me.

"You know, I almost returned it to the store," he admitted. "It was not cheap. I bought it for all the wrong reasons, but when you gave it back to me after our date on Tuesday, the hoodie became yours in a way I wasn't quite prepared for, and—I couldn't. It felt wrong to return it."

My chest felt too small for all the giddiness in my heart, but I kissed his shoulder and grazed my fingers over the hairy goosebumps on his forearm.

"Now you're cold," I fretted, ready to give him back his clothes. "I'm sorry."

Edward's warm, soft lips brushed against my ear. "I'm not cold."

"You don't have to lie—"

Edward gave me an adorable, borderline embarrassed smile before he touched my nose with his and said, voice low, "I'm not cold, baby."

The knowledge that I gave him goosebumps lifted up my insides and settled them somewhere in my throat.

"I slept in it, too," I admitted, quietly, a little bit embarrassed but feeling like I owed him the truth. "It wasn't to—that sounds much creepier than it was, I promise. I knew you had a girlfriend. I just—it was so comforting. It smelled like the most beautiful evening ever with a boy I had a crush on, and I didn't want to let go of that. I'm sorry."

Not wanting to cross the border to beyond creepy, I didn't admit that I'd also gone to the studio with it.

Instead of answering me, Edward pulled me closer and pressed his face against mine, kissing all the breath and apologies out of me as his tongue met mine. Melting and alight, I sunk into him, and it might've been a minute or fifteen later when we emerged from our dizzying, breathless kiss.

We played another laughter-filled game without rules. Apparently, the hilly landscape of the leftmost lane was due to water damage under the building in December when Arctic winter breezed through Atlanta, and they didn't expect to fix it before March.

Regardless, it was the most fun date I could've imagined even if Edward and I couldn't quite agree on whether this was our first or seventh date. I might've agreed on this being our second date, if last Tuesday's chess counted, but Edward insisted that the Friday when we shared lunch on the floor of the school hallway (second) counted, as did the Saturday before my date with Peter (third), and after (fourth), as well as our early morning rendezvous on my porch (fifth), and last night's make-out session (sixth).

"By your standards, every time you talk to me is a date."

Edward's eyes were full of sparkly secrets when he brushed his fingertips over my spine. He bent down and nuzzled my cheek. "Considering it's you… I think it is."

I pretended not to swoon when I squeezed his warm, taut muscles under a thin T-shirt. "Sweet talk ain't gonna help you win, Mr. Physics-C-Is-My-Favorite-Nap."

"Oh, I don't need sweet talk to win, Princess My-Voice-Will-Pay-for-My-401K."

I showed him my tongue before taking a bowling ball and releasing it towards the two remaining pins on the other side of the lane. When I missed, Edward stepped against me from behind, whispering, "Is Little Miss Doe-Eyes giving up yet?"

I was too busy melting into a puddle of goo to honor his taunt with my own.

With no clue as to which one of us had won, we once again took a breather on the couch. I ordered more greasy finger food for Mr. Always Hungry, and when Edward pulled me sideways into his lap, I hid my grin against his neck. It was a dream to have his green eyes linger on my lips, his expression playful and earnest and so soft it lit a fire in my veins. His palm was gripping my thigh just under my skirt, brushing maddening circles with the pads of his fingers, and he let out the softest groan when I squeezed the muscles on his back and pressed my lips against his warm neck.

Realizing I'd never asked him when his birthday was (and desperately hoping it wasn't today), I pulled back to voice my question when Edward stiffened under me. His grip around my thigh tightened. Slowly, he pulled his bottom lip in his mouth and tore his gaze from behind me, and the agitated, unsettled look in his eyes twisted my insides.

"What?"

"Don't freak out," Edward whispered, wrapping me tighter in a hug so that his lips brushed against my ear. "I think the guy by the lockers is taking photos of us."

…

A/N: You guys are the kindest! Your thoughts are the best reward for writing :)