…
Scheduled for Friday
by Anton M.
56: Hideaway
…
Friday, February 17 (cont.)
"Feather-heart," Edward whispered, brushing his knuckles over my cheek. "Wakey, wakey, sweetie. Dinner's ready."
A man was singing along to the radio in the distance. I sat up straight, disoriented, taking in the old, mauve-colored living room with a fire crackling on my one side and smoky wind blowing on us from the other. The front door opened directly into the living room, and the delicious smell of Edward's grandfather's grilling wafted in through the screen door. It was dark outside.
We were in gramps's one-story home a few miles from Suches in Chattahoochee-Oconee National Forest.
"I fell asleep." Rubbing crusted saliva from the corner of my mouth, I gave Edward a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry."
"I'm glad you got some sleep." Edward kissed my eyebrow. "Feeling better?"
Butterflies danced in my stomach at his touch. "So much better."
"And do you like low country boil?"
I yawned. "The what?"
"You've never had—? How have you never—?" Edward stopped talking, eyes wide. "Don't tell gramps."
"Don't tell gramps what?" Edward Senior walked in, wavy white hair pointing upwards like the aftermath of a cartoon explosion. He held tongs over a burnt, stained apron, and smelled like homey dinner, which was cute if you forgot the weirdness of grilling food outside in the depths of February.
A throw fell on the couch when I uncurled my legs, and I felt tremendous warmth fill me when I realized that Edward had covered me with it.
"Bella's never had low country boil," Edward admitted, squeezing my knee and grinning at gramps.
Gramps staggered backwards, mock-horrified.
"Oh dear," he whispered, rubbing his chest. "Oh dear, oh dear. Do your parents beat you, too?"
I gaped. Edward laughed.
"Low country boil is gramps's favorite," he explained, leaning closer. "He'd have it for breakfast, lunch and dinner if he could. But he'll send you to a hospital if you've never had buttermilk pie, either."
I smiled. "I'm safe, then. It's about the only dessert dad tolerates."
Edward's grandfather's house was old enough to have its small kitchen separated from the living room. He had two bedrooms (but used one for storing heavy machinery) and an eclectic little bathroom. Mismatched chairs and a bench surrounded a scratched table near the front door, and the foldable brown sofa facing the fireplace was just barely wide enough for two. I was stoked to cuddle up on it with Edward, later.
"Are you sure nobody followed us?" I asked him as we set the table together.
"Nobody followed us," Edward repeated. "Gramps and I have kept our eyes open. You can relax."
"What if you're wrong? What if they'll come later?"
He set down whipped cream, took plates and cutlery from my hands, and covered my neck with his palms. Eyes full of concern, he tipped his head toward the rifle on a shelf above the door. "Union County Sheriff is a dear friend of gramps. The car gate is locked, but even so, police would take him seriously if we had random journalists hiking through the forest to trespass on his property. Okay?"
I must've still looked spooked because Edward wrapped me up in his arms and swayed with me. "I'm sorry," he said, quietly.
"I'm fine." I snuggled against his body. "Just fine. Totally fine."
"Yeah, I can tell how fine you are by how many times you just used that word." Edward pulled back, cupping my jaw and tilting my face up. He slouched as he kissed me. "What can I do to reassure you?"
"Spend time with me until I forget about it."
Edward tugged at the giant green hoodie I was wearing—his hoodie—pressed me against his chest and kissed my hair. My heart could've burst.
A single paparazzo car had been parked near our driveway when Edward woke up, but dad made the guy leave without having to call the cops. Edward left on his bike while dad took Riley to kindergarten, and I'd already made a list of things for dad to pack for me so that I wouldn't have to return home (and risk being seen by the paparazzi) before I realized that I wanted… I wanted to pack condoms. I wanted to pack my only set of lingerie. (Yeah, like sleeping in the living room was going to stop us.) And it wasn't that I was too afraid to ask dad to pack them, I just wasn't sure how comfortable Edward would've been with my dad knowing about our (but really my) plans.
I convinced mom to take a trip home during lunch break, and either we got lucky or the paparazzi thought I'd escaped to school under their eyes but no suspicious cars waited for us, and I stuffed my backpack within minutes. We didn't linger. I took my helmet back to Alex's Studio and made Edward pick me up from ITP not too far from the studio. Emmett checked Edward's motorcycle for trackers (our paranoia knew no bounds), I hugged mom, and off we drove into the sunset.
Well, it was cloudy, we drove north, and it was hours before sunset, but, you know. Hugging my boyfriend on a motorcycle on a windy highway was sunset enough for me.
Two paparazzi cars had waited for me near the school all day. Dad had described the cars to Edward, so Edward had driven past our school in the morning to see if they were there, and what do you know—two vehicles started simultaneously upon his passing (no doubt having registered his motorcycle color, manufacturer and/or license plate). But Edward's advantage of already being on the road paid off. He sped into subdivisions, zigzagged to the other side of the school, and parked his bike across from Riley's kindergarten, half-hiding it behind a large street trash can. He kept a low profile walking to school, hood up, nose in his phone, timing his entrance with busfuls of other students, and although he couldn't be sure they hadn't taken a photo of him, he successfully sneaked out in the afternoon using the same tactics.
Because of this, I kept peeking behind us during our drive north to confirm that nobody had followed him. A few cars appeared to be tailing us before turning innocently off US 19, and we drove in relative peace with the rare surrounding vehicle long enough that I began to breathe easier after an hour on the road.
…
"How was school?"
I tore my eyes from the photos and memorabilia above wainscoting (oh man I'd spent too much time discussing details of houses to notice shit like that) to find gramps separating all the items of his dish like a picky toddler. I shared a knowing smile with Edward before he shrugged.
"Fine."
Making a 'hmpph' sound, gramps pointed at him with a grilled shrimp. "Did you wake up as the most popular boy in school today?"
Edward rubbed his buzz cut and gave me an embarrassed half-smile. "I don't know how you'll return on Monday. It's… a lot."
"What is?"
He took his sweet time eating corn.
"Everything," he said, finally.
"But now that Victoria and her friends were caught, you can let go of your security guard, right?" gramps asked. "That's got to be a relief."
My stomach dropped at the lie I'd have to give voice to but Edward was already on it.
"That Garrett shit is everywhere." Edward's eyes found mine. "Your parents aren't letting Emmett go, are they?"
Garrett. Of course.
Well, at least it wasn't a lie.
"Not a chance."
"You don't think the paparazzi will get bored of you?" gramps asked.
"I don't know. I hope so, but I have just as much experience with paparazzi as Edward does."
"Do you think they'd ease up if you allowed them to get a few photos of you?"
"Maybe," I replied, stomach twisting. "Or maybe it would give them the opportunity to ask me questions—and responding would prove that I'm friendly to spontaneous photo shoots and they'd hound me twice as much. I'd prefer not to find out."
Edward sent me an alarmed look, but, clearly not in the mood to predict the death of my private life, he began inhaling the rest of his plate. Gramps finished separating his sorted piles of food before he tilted his head on the side and observed me for a long moment. "How did you… grow up like this? Can I ask?" At my nod, Gramps continued, "When did you find out he was your biological father? How did you keep it a secret?"
It felt weird, describing my life to gramps, but I kept the topic as close to the truth as I could, and it helped that there was no ulterior motive behind his curiosity. Gramps was easy to get along with, and his banter with Edward made me see more of how Edward had managed to stay on top of his life with everything on his shoulders. Gramps used colorful choice words for Edward's aunt and Peter's parents, he wanted to hear everything about my life on set (that I was allowed to share), and he called Edward Captain, which was cute as hell.
"You have to tell Bella that I called it."
"You did not call it."
"I so called it, Captain."
Edward stifled his smile. "Stop talking like that, gramps. It sounds wrong."
"Called what?" I interrupted.
Eyes bright with humor, gramps wiggled in his spot like a happy puppy as he adjusted the borders between his potatoes and crabs. "A few weeks ago, I told Edward that you could've been Garrett Kamwanga's daughter with how similar you looked."
"Really?!"
"Really," gramps confirmed while Edward finished eating. (Because of course he did, it wasn't like gramps and I were still taking our first bites.)
"That's not what happened. You said she could've been related to him."
"A-ha! So you admit I called it!"
Edward chuckled but rubbed his neck. A silent conversation happened between the two as they locked eyes until Edward gave gramps a nod, grumbling, "If you must."
Gramps grinned.
"'Not all black people are related, gramps,'" he quoted Edward who looked just about ready to slide under the table. "No reason to be embarrassed." Gramps patted Edward on the back. "You got the girl."
I was so focused on Edward grimacing into his palm that his hand on my thigh caught me by surprise, but the little gesture made my heart beat faster.
"I'm sorry," Edward muttered, looking like he was admitting to murder. "I didn't know. I don't even think you and Garrett look all that similar."
"You did nothing wrong." I covered his hand with mine. "Don't apologize. I'm not upset. You couldn't have known, and you're clearly not alone in your assessment. Half the internet is torn about who I resemble most."
Edward pulled his bottom lip in his mouth and met my eyes, clearly uncertain.
"I promise," I assured, catching gramps looking at us with silent, amused affection in his eyes.
Edward had devoured half of the buttermilk pie by the time gramps and I finished eating low country boil (but really low country grill judging by how gramps made it). I felt obliged to clear the table and wash the dishes if only to prevent mom's soul from teleporting into the kitchen and reprimanding me for not helping out with dinner.
General Hospital ran on ad-infested cable TV when I returned to the living room. I hadn't even noticed that gramps had a TV mounted on the wall. My parents hadn't owned one until two years ago, and they certainly didn't pay for cable, one of those mythical old people things like affordable housing or Facebook.
Edward and gramps sat by the dinner table, drinking sweet tea and playing chess. Edward apologized to me with his eyes (maybe for the game?), but I loved that they continued with their little activities without making a fuss about my presence. It felt beyond cozy, it felt safe. I dragged an (oh-my-God-so-heavy-Edward-had-to-help-me) armchair next to Edward because I was too tired to keep my back straight on these gimmicky benches (sorry, gramps). Edward scooted his chair sideways so that I could rest my temple against the backside of my armchair as well as his arm, and I didn't even stay awake for their next move.
When I woke up, the TV was shut off, the room was darker, and Edward's breath was blowing on my lips.
"Like Sleeping Beauty," he whispered against my cheek, touching his nose against my skin before he pulled back. "If she drooled all over her prince."
"Oh my God." I sat up, horrified to see a wet spot on his sleeve. I facepalmed. "I'm so sorry. Why didn't you wake me?"
"I didn't realize." Edward stretched his back and neck in a way that suggested he'd kept the same pose just to support my head, which made my heart tingle. "Not that I would've cared."
I, too, cracked my stiff neck before I got up. Edward and I prepared for bed, got changed (although I put Edward's green hoodie back on), and wished gramps goodnight. It was ten thirty PM. I felt bad that gramps or Edward had already unfolded the small sofa and added linens and pillows to it, but I wasn't about to complain.
Edward called his dad. I'd always tried to give him privacy whenever he did that, but, watching him pace back-and-forth, asking questions rather than answering them, I was struck by how easily he'd misled us. He asked questions like, 'Where are you,' 'Are you alone,' 'Will you go home tonight,' and there was little coherency in his father's responses judging by how many times Edward rephrased his questions. His voice was quiet but frustrated. I realized that the day he'd said he'd needed to be home by 11, Edward had probably wanted to return home to check on his father rather than the other way around.
Done talking, Edward squeezed my hand but didn't elaborate. He threw one pillow on top of the other before sitting in its place and patting the space between his parted thighs, and there wasn't a force in the world that could've kept me from snuggling up against him. We faced the fireplace, now hot with embers and a single burning log, and I couldn't help my anxious glance at the blinds. They were closed.
"Warm?"
"So warm." I turned my head to kiss him. My heart glowed at the touch of his soft lips and the worried, burning look in his eyes, so at odds with his pierced hard shell (and a soft, gooey inside, like my very own crème brûlée).
"Is it still weird?" I shifted sideways to see his eyes. "The knowledge that Garrett is my biological father?"
"Still weird," he confirmed. "But I'll get there. You're the same but also… not. It helps knowing that this insanity is new for you, too—and, weird as it is, I think of him like he's your rich, famous uncle. Otherwise I'd have to admit that I'm dating a girl with two dads, and that's just asking for trouble. Might as well strap myself to a guillotine."
I smiled and rested my cheek against his chest, looking up at him. I kissed his collar bone. "I'm sorry."
Edward squeezed me, a simmering light in his eyes.
"I love you," he whispered against my temple.
His words wrapped my poor little heart in tight delicate strings of candy cotton.
"I love you, too," I replied, feeling embarrassed by the words. "I like hearing you say it."
Having surrounded my curled-up body with his arms, Edward slid his palm up and down my side. "I'm getting used to it. It's kind of terrifying." His hand stopped at my waist, squeezing, and his vulnerable, half-embarrassed gaze on my lips gave me wings. "You terrify me."
Bursting with love, I slid my fingers in his buzz cut and tasted his lips. "Same," I said, unable to reply with adequate depth how exhilarated and high and petrified his love made me feel. I hummed against his lips and enjoyed the tightness of his grip until he pulled back, eyes twinkling.
"Do you want to read my birthday card with me?"
"You haven't read it yet?"
"I've been kinda busy, you know… dating celebrities' kids, escaping the paparazzi with them… I'm in high demand."
I blew a raspberry against his neck. Edward grinned.
"Have you seen what people are writing about us on TikTok?" he continued, reaching for his backpack on the side of the sofa.
"What? What are they saying?"
Edward set his birthday card on the pillow tower and adjusted me so that my back was flush against his stomach. He scrolled down on a comments section under a video we were tagged in and grinned against my shoulder.
Carlie 'ARE THEY THE KING AND QUEEN OF YOUR SCHOOL?! TELL ME THEY'RE THE KING AND QUEEN OF YOUR SCHOOL. I SHIP. I SHIP HARD.'
I laughed.
"What do you say?" I asked. "Are we the king and queen of our school?"
"You might be the queen now but I'm only the king by my connection to you—if I am one."
I hesitated. "Is it bad?"
"It's worse. I'm not sure I said a single sentence today outside the classroom that wasn't about Garrett Kamwanga. I hate it."
"I'm sorry."
Edward rested his chin on my shoulder. "It's not your fault. I'm hoping they get bored of it, but meanwhile… we'll have to figure out how to keep you alive on Monday."
I was going to scroll further when Edward locked his phone and threw it on the other side of the sofa.
"Hey!" I reached for it. Grinning, Edward knocked his phone off the sofa bed with his foot. It thumped on the carpet. "I wanted to see what else they say!"
"I'll tell you," Edward replied, squeezing me. "Nobody's racist. Nobody makes me want to send them skydiving without a parachute after reading their comments about your body. Nobody calls me white trash. It's beautiful and perfect and the world has been cured of internet assholes."
My heart skipped a beat. "They called you—"
"Most of them were positive. Don't worry about it."
"Of course I worry about it! What the fuck. Edward." I turned sideways again, hugged his arm against me, and caught his gaze. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, baby."
Edward shook his head, looking like he wanted to say it was fine but was unable to voice it. I hated every mean commenter on that stupid thread for hurting him.
"I love you." I clutched the back of his neck and pressed my lips against his. "I'm sorry. I'll push them all off the plane if you fly it."
"Sounds like an expensive way to die."
"Not if we wear parachutes and change our identities."
Edward smiled, but the glint was still gone from his eyes.
"Hey, hey. They don't know you, okay? You're amazing."
"It's not that."
I wasn't convinced, but, "What is it, then?"
Gaze focused on the blanket, Edward did this cute little half-shrug with his shoulders. "They don't get to imagine you naked. Only I get to imagine you naked."
I laughed because I did not expect him to say that, but I just had to wrap him in a hug. Snuggling my nose close to his ear, I bathed in his scent and kissed his skin. My heartbeat echoed in my ears as I whispered, "I hope you'll get to do more than imagine."
Edward growled and sent me flying into the pillow-tower before he lowered himself against me. Barbell glinting with the reflection of the embers and eyes alight with love, he kissed me. Liquid affection inflated my chest.
"Still." I tickled my fingertips with his buzz cut. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Edward trailed a line from my ear to my lips with his nose. "I forgot."
Eyes aglow, he slid his fingers in my hair and pressed the softest open-mouthed kiss against my lips. Too impatient for his slow tenderness, I curled a leg around his thighs and smushed his face against mine, breathing him, tasting him, feeling his strength on top of me. Ignoring how my eyes stung from lack of sleep, I pulled off his T-shirt and slid my open palms along his sides, adoring all the lean muscle and warmth. A funny little shiver-jolt ran through him before he looked at me with such precious longing my chest was in danger of bursting, and when his hand slid underneath my layers on my back, I couldn't tear off my hoodie quickly enough.
I cast it aside.
"How deep does your gramps sleep?" I asked, intoxicated by his proximity and heat.
Edward blinked like he was drunk before he nuzzled my ear and said, "Listen for yourself."
His breath blew against my jaw as he fell silent, and I could hear the rhythm of snoring through the walls, loud enough that I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed it before he pointed it out.
Pleased with the discovery, I traced a little line over his bicep with my fingertips before our eyes met, and suddenly, Edward was in a frenzy, gripping my ass and pressing his throbbing hard-on against my crotch with the most delicious force. Hot, tooth-pasty breath mixed with mine as he thrust against me, and he muffled his groan against my skin when I wrapped both legs around him. I ached to feel him closer.
My arm pressed against the hard corner of smooth, black cardboard with a hint of gold, half-hidden under a throw pillow, and I felt giddy in the knowledge that Edward, too, wanted to— he'd prepared to. I was alert with adrenaline, a little bit scared, making out with a real guy whose grip lit me aflame, whose gaze made my heart simmer and whose confidence intimidated and exhilarated me. He was so sure of himself, looking all sexy and dangerous above me, and I didn't know how to express how eager and daunted I felt by the prospect of… more.
Not wanting Edward to notice that I knew that he, too, had bought a box of condoms, I moved to kiss him only to discover his attention on the fireplace. I registered the scent of burning paper or sweet chemicals, and the end of Edward's hoodie sleeve was just half-crumpling and half-melting into dark, powdery ashes as we jumped up and beat the edge of it with a fire rod. Fire sizzled and smoke slid across the ceiling when I poured water on top of the sleeve, and we ran to open windows to prevent Edward's gramps from waking up.
Standing in the cold wind, panting as we waited for the smoke to clear, our eyes met, and we stifled our laughter. Edward sat on the edge of the sofa bed, opening his arms for me, and I sat sideways in his lap before wrapping our blanket around us.
"So this is payback, huh?" Edward asked against my ear. "For ruining your entire wardrobe?"
"No!" I argued, hugging him tighter.
"It's okay if it is." Edward gently pushed my upper body away, and something in his gaze caught my attention.
"Tell me."
"I lied," he continued, quietly. "My hoodies aren't all presents from my mom. People are just less likely to comment on the age of my clothes if they think they're sentimental. But…" His gaze flickered to the damp, smoked hoodie on the tiled floor in front of the fireplace. Shame twisted my insides.
"This one was," I finished for him. "Was it the only one left from her?"
Edward shrugged, but the way he pulled his bottom lip in his mouth, refusing to answer, confirmed my words.
"I'm so sorry, baby," I pleaded. "I didn't mean to burn it. I swear. I'm sorry."
"It wasn't your fault."
"Be mad. Please be mad. If you perform the I'm-not-mad-I'm-disappointed act my parents have perfected I won't know what to do with myself. I'm so sorry. I'll feel better if you yell at me." I paused and kissed his knuckles. "Will it make you feel better if I show you my boobs?"
Edward jerked his head away from mine and locked eyes with me before he shook his head, seemingly forlorn, eyebrows up in the center of his forehead like a baby red panda learning to over-act.
"I'm heart-broken," he replied, eyes sparkling. "Never been so sad. I'm so angry I can't see straight. Devastated. I don't know how I'll ever move on from this."
I smacked his arm but, as a man of my word, I let go of the blanket and wiggled out of my T-shirt. Cold air hit me. I'd intended to wear my new sheer lace bra but forgot it in my bag when I went to change (and didn't want to risk admitting to Edward why I wanted to get changed again), so I'd skipped the bra entirely.
Edward didn't seem to mind, though, staring at my naked breasts with his mouth agape as I adjusted the blanket around us and fought with myself not to hide. Slowly, as if scared I'd bolt, he slid his palm upwards along my stomach until he cupped one of them. His breathing was hot and fast against my ear. I felt aflame.
"I missed these boobs… with my favorite-colored nipples."
Edward shushed my laughter, and I twitched when he brushed his thumb over my nipple.
"Bet she doesn't hold you like I hold you," he told my boobs. "Or kiss you. Or love you."
"Would be pretty strange if I—"
He swung me around in a mess of blankets, laying me down in the center of the sofa bed so quickly it knocked the breath out of me. I laughed. Then, Edward bit his bottom lip, his eyelashes oh-so-long, his eyes smoldering before he touched his nose against mine, side to side.
"How are you with me?" he asked, rhetorically, gaze full of disbelief.
My heart quite nearly soared out of my chest as I reached up to brush my palm over his neck.
"I mean… had my dad been obsessed with a YouTube beekeeper called Chad I'd have never met you."
"You don't know that." Edward's mouth twitched from holding back a smile. "What if Chad was gross and creepy and I overheard your conversation about finding a guy to be your first kiss and I volunteered anyway?"
"But where would we be without our sacred tradition of wreaking havoc on each others' clothes?"
"Hopefully right here… with more clothes intact." Edward cupped my neck, eyes full of mischief. "But you know I'm going to be intolerable from now on, right? I'll require boobs at the mildest hint of sadness or inconvenience. I might just make some up, actually."
"Oh yeah?"
Edward hummed in approval before we both froze, realizing that the house was suspiciously quiet. He tucked the blanket around us, hiding my boobs as our mildly panicked eyes met.
Ugh how awkward would this be if gramps came, or had come, to check up on us?
Then, to soothe our terrified hearts, a loud, long snore echoed through the walls, and Edward muffled his relieved laughter in the pillow beside me.
Oh dear God this whole sleeping in the living room business involved too much heart attack.
But the smoke had cleared, and I was getting cold.
Edward shut the windows, added two logs in the fire (because we'd let out all the warmth), joined me under the blankets and wrapped me in his now-cold half-naked body. I shivered.
"Sorry." He created our own little cocoon of the blanket. "Do you want me to put on a shirt?"
His biceps casually pressing against my shoulders felt like the most thrilling thing in the world.
"No."
We made sure to listen for the rhythmic snore through the walls before I cupped Edward's neck and grinned. He dipped his head to kiss me, and I submerged myself in his scent, weight, and the surreal realization that I was making out with my hot boyfriend.
"What?"
Feeling high and giddy, I squeezed his sides. "Just thinking about how lucky I am."
Edward pressed a trail of kisses from my lips to my neck.
"So backwards," he teased in my ear, clearly smiling. I slid my palms along his sides before tickling my knuckles with his happy trail and hovering next to his waistband, eager but scared.
"Can I—?" I muttered, barely audible, but the turned-on, amused look that accompanied his agreement was unmistakable. Edward almost crushed me when I grazed by fingertips against the head of his cock but he caught himself with a string of curses and landed with his elbows digging into my pillow and his face in my neck.
"Sorry," we both whispered at the same time. I grinned and kissed his cheek.
Drunk with the power of making Edward lose control like that, I wrapped my fingers properly around his cock. It was warm, soft and hard, all at once, with a slight curve and skin that moved with my hand. It felt curiously vulnerable for such a powerful thing, and I hadn't anticipated touching it to feel so intimate.
"Bella," Edward warned in a half-choked voice.
Tugging his lips between my teeth, I kissed him and moved my hand, fascinated by the whole thing. Without the slightest idea of how to do this, I stroked his cock and played with its tip, loving how it throbbed against my palm. I squeezed and tickled and played with it until Edward groaned.
"Feather-heart," he warned, staring at me with his eyes beautifully half-hooded. "I might—" He thrust hard once, twice, thrice, covering my wrist in warm, gooey cum and hiding his face in my neck. Panting, he slumped on top of me.
"Sorry," he rasped.
"I loved it," I said straight into his ear, pleased with myself before my smile faded. "Or, I mean… if it wasn't, like, good enough, I can get better if you… I mean, I'm sorry."
Still nuzzling my neck, Edward shook against me with laughter. His voice was rough. "That was… out of this world. I'm just worried that…" His low groan vibrated through me before he took a long, deep breath, sounding like he wanted the Earth to swallow him whole. "Baby, if two seconds of your touch is too much for me I can't even imagine how miserably I'll disappoint you when we finally—you know."
"I don't mind," I replied, relieved. "I mean, from what I've heard it's going to be unpleasant for me, anyway, so… I don't think I'll complain if it's short." I felt stupid as the words came from my mouth but couldn't stop them, "Maybe we can learn together?"
"Fuck yes."
Finally, he lifted his head. I wanted to commit the sleepy, embarrassed, loving gaze in his eyes into memory when I realized I was still holding his now flaccid cock in my hand. I didn't know it got smaller, but it definitely felt like it had shrunk, and it twitched when I removed my hand. I wiped most of his cum in our pants but tasted a tiny bit of it on my wrist.
Edward's eyes widened. "Jesus fuck did you just—?"
"I wanted to see what the fuss was about," I replied self-consciously, avoiding his eyes. "It's not too bad, actually. A bit salty, a bit bitter. I think I could—"
Edward lifted himself up on his elbows, coming closer, staring at my lips as he hovered above me. I squirmed.
"Sorry."
"Baby that was the hottest thing anyone's ever done since the dawn of time."
Grinning, I slid my fingers in his hair. "Yeah?"
"Fuck yeah." Edward pressed his lips against mine. I was amazed to already feel his hard-on against my stomach, but strangely, the hot-cold mess between us didn't turn me off, and when I wrapped my legs around his hips, arching against him, Edward whispered, "Can I eat you out?"
I hesitated. It sounded intimidating and amazing and forbidden, but I was running on some serious sleep deficit. My eyelids were getting heavy.
"That sounds—I'd like that," I began, embarrassed to admit it. "But I'm— I know I had a nap, but I'm beginning to fight sleep and I'd like to, you know," I stifled my smile. "I'd like to be awake for it. Can we—tomorrow? I want to. I promise I want to. I want everything. I'm just so—"
"Breathe," Edward replied, brushing his thumbs over my hairline. His smile was sleepy, too. "You don't need a reason to say no, baby. It's okay."
"But I want to," I insisted. "I so, so want to. I don't mean to reject you or make you feel bad—"
"Feather-heart," Edward whispered, a bit impatiently. "You never need a reason to tell me no, okay? It's okay."
Feeling loved and giddy and insanely sleepy, I hugged him. A thousand compliments fought to be formed into words, but instead, I said, "We were supposed to read your card."
"Tomorrow," Edward replied, grinning as he turned me around to spoon me from the back, and I melted at his kiss against my eyebrow before the orange glow of embers put me to sleep.
…
Saturday, February 18
Saturday brought sleeping in, helping gramps fertilize pecan trees and add mulch to strawberries, and (watching more than) helping Edward fix gramps's truck again. It was a nice change, being able to forget about the world in the fresh air… because cell phone reception was spotty if it existed at all. I did manage to check in with my parents before we went hiking, and I impressed gramps with my second-hand knowledge about red-winged blackbirds, tufted titmouses and pine siskins (maybe I should thank dad's YouTube habits in my acceptance speech).
It was chilly but sunny, with a dark gray rain cloud on the horizon. We saw multiple species of otters as well as a single fox from a distance, but that was the extent of our adventure before we all got hungry. Edward had, apparently, managed to fix Gramps's old Ford F-150 (I mean, do you even live in Georgia if half of the people you know don't have the same truck?) because the truck started properly instead of endless cranking. Gramps took us to a local place, Kennedy Creek Tavern just off Wolf Pen Gap Road, a homey place covered floor-to-ceiling in wood with a matching pillar to boot.
The tavern was mostly empty save for a few friendly locals and passers-by.
Only one of gramps's acquaintances recognized me, but she seemed more awkward than overwhelmed about meeting me, which suited me perfectly. We ordered, ate, and watched a small plane take off in the distance. I accidentally found out that Edward still thought I'd played D&D with my parents once upon a time, a lie I'd totally forgotten about, so his suggestion to restart the tradition, while sweet, wasn't quite possible. Jasper had discontinued their own D&D evenings when busy Saturdays intervened, and Edward wasn't eager to join D&D anyway if there was a chance that Lauren would've shown up.
When gramps excused himself to go chat with a friend, Edward scooted closer and produced his birthday card from his hiking backpack.
"Did you carry this around all day just in case we'd have a shot at reading it?"
"No." He scooted my empty plate away. "I knew gramps would bring us here and the opportunity would present itself."
Together, we read the silly and serious not-quite-birthday wishes scribbled on his card. I was amazed by the outright poem Rose had written on the back of the card, but I mostly looked for the wish from Mike before Edward put his finger under it with a laugh.
'Sorry for kissing your gf, man. Suffice to say it was like kissing my little sister.I'd be amazed if your gf felt any different about it. But congrats on another circle around the sun or whatever. Well done, surviving that.' M.
I laughed. "Oh my God, even his birthday wishes sound whiny. That's another level."
Edward was grinning his ass off. "M., huh? Who's M.? Marcus Scribner? Shameik Moore? Matthew Lewis? Matt Damon?"
Stifling my smile, I shook my head.
"Or was it a girl? Millie Bobbie Brown? Mandy Moore? Mmm…Margot Robbie?"
I kissed his shoulder. "You are ridiculous."
Edward returned his card to his backpack. Eyes twinkling, he pulled my hand in his lap and kissed the back of it before he leaned closer and whispered, "Do you want to know a secret?"
I felt out-of-this-world happy when his breath blew over my cheek like that. "I did not think you were the type to spill secrets."
"I'm not," he replied, squeezing my hand in both of his and staring at our locked hands as he spoke. "I might need a bit of advice with this one, though. And I trust you."
A dagger to my heart.
"I'm a big giant ear and lots of secret-holding curls."
Edward looked across the room at where gramps and a thinner, taller, bespectacled man were drinking beer and talking. Edward glanced back at me, back at them, and made sure nobody was within earshot before he whispered, "You're about to be introduced to gramps's boyfriend."
Surprised, I pulled away to see Edward's eyes.
"That's the big secret? I thought you'd have juicier stuff than that."
"I'm glad you feel that way." Edward smiled. "For people our age, that's fine. For people in the city, that's fine. For someone like gramps, it must be… huge. Enormous. Life-changing stuff."
I searched his eyes. "He's never told you?"
"No."
"But how can you be sure, then?"
Edward stifled his smile with such a glint in his eyes I wanted to read his thoughts, but I was much too mature and respectful to ask for more information.
Nah, just kidding. I was Nosy McNoserson and I couldn't wait to hear the deets.
"What did you see? Was it—?"
Our eyes met, and Edward's quiet but decisive, "No! Not that," was hidden by our laughter.
"I drove to gramps's place one Friday and had to turn off my bike before heading up his road because it was too muddy to drive, and I found them in the garden—" Edward's smile grew to wicked proportions but he simply finished with, "kissing."
"Aww! That's cute as hell. What'd you do? It must've been a shock, though, right?"
"More than I can say," Edward replied, voice low next to my ear. "I mean, he's gramps, you know? I've known him all my life. I didn't… expect it. I backed away to the main road, drove a bit further and sent him a text that my bike died. He never knew I'd seen them. I never told him."
"When was this?"
"Maybe September-October."
"And you're trying to figure out if you should tell him that you know?"
"Not exactly." Edward finished my juice. "He might have a stroke. I'm trying to figure out… how do I let him know it'd be okay? Do I let him know it's okay? I don't want to force his timeline, but also… he doesn't have to come here with an excuse to eat, to spend half an hour with the man who comes here to see him all the way from Atlanta when we could all be at his house, you know? They'd have way more time together, I'd get to know Dennis better—it's, like you said, not a big deal. But I can't change that it's clearly a huge deal for him."
To be extra cautious, we kept whispering into each other's ears even though country music was loud enough and the tables next to ours were empty. "Do you have any friends who are gay or bi?"
"I mean, Jasper's bi, gramps knows it, too, but… I don't think it counts in his eyes. The way he sees it, we're the youth allowed these things."
"And he's not?"
Edward shrugged. I didn't know Jasper was bi, but honestly at least a third of the school had fluid preferences, so it didn't really matter.
"Would gramps be up for having him over for dinner and stuff? Do you guys do that? Do you have anything in common with him? Does gramps want you to get to know him?"
Edward's smile was bittersweet. "Absolutely. Not that he'd ever say it, but… I dunno. The guy's not into bikes or aviation, he doesn't play chess or D&D, I don't think he's from a trailer park or anything. He's pretty academic. He researches something mind-blowingly theoretical like the long-term impact of migration on local language or… I don't remember."
Aw, man. My mom would've questioned the man to death with a linguistic topic like that.
But, aside from the research topic, that wasn't actually a far cry from Edward's entry into the university world and everything related to it, and I told him as much. We agreed that telling gramps outright would've robbed gramps of the choice (and comfort-level) to tell Edward on his own terms. Not that he ever had to. The whole concept of coming out of the closet felt a bit old, anyway, as if you owed the world an explanation for your preferences. But still… it was so sweet of Edward to want to do right by gramps and his partner, and I was flattered that he'd trust me with this information. I promised to try to (not so) randomly mention our screenwriter (with his husband and three kids) to bring gramps closer to the idea that it really wasn't a big deal. And maybe scour the internet for men who could act on different preferences when older.
Edward's casual trust in me made me feel guilty, too. Was I doing the right thing by waiting for the NDA? What if Tanya didn't make it by Friday, should I just have set a deadline of my own and tell Edward anyway?
I decided that, if our plan fell through, I'd figure out a way to tell (or start telling) Edward next weekend. He deserved to be warned regardless of how much I feared his reaction.
Edward's phone buzzing interrupted our musings.
It was my dad. I watched as Edward picked up his phone, but he did not begin to offer some insignificant advice about Riley. He sat, gradually getting taller and stiffer as the phone call continued, and his hand in mine was starting to reach bone-crushing territory when he finally looked at me. He looked deadly serious, and his one glance at my phone and jacket was enough to make me start tying my scarf.
"When did her seizures start?" Edward asked.
My heart dropped in my shoes. He'd better not be talking about mom.
Holy shit please don't do that to me, fuckidy fuckidy fuck fuck.
'Aunt Vicky,' Edward mouthed, seeing my mini freak-out, and it wasn't kind of me, but I relaxed in relief.
Edward dropped his phone on the table after he'd finished the call. He rubbed his face and hair but didn't move to put on his coat, but it was clear that whatever evening we'd been imagining reassuring gramps and getting to know gramps's partner had to wait.
"Aunt Vicky's been transferred to a hospital with what they think is delirium tremens," Edward said, voice devoid of emotion.
"What's that?"
"It's an alcohol withdrawal disorder. They didn't take her symptoms seriously until she started having seizures, and… it can be fatal."
"But… but… your aunt's drinking problem didn't seem that bad."
Edward gave me one of those automatic, placating smiles that didn't reach his eyes. "You'd think that."
"I'm sorry."
"Your dad said that more than one in four can die of it once they're as advanced as she is. I know she… did what she did, but outside of Riley, I'm her only— and if she doesn't make it, if she doesn't make it—" Staring at the pristine white tablecloth, Edward took a sharp, near-shaky breath, "I could be Riley's—"
"Shut up," I interrupted, turning his face to me. I took both of his hands in mine. "Don't get ahead of yourself, okay? You are not alone. My parents are here for you. I'm here for you. Always, Edward. I'll come with you."
"I can't ask you to do that."
"I love you." I kissed him. "Now shut up and put your jacket on. Let's go."
…