…
Scheduled for Friday
by Anton M.
67: Bella's Gambit
…
Friday, March 3 (cont.)
Edward sat up and pulled me into his arms. Not knowing how this would end, I was too emotional to resist. He pressed his lips against my neck, breathing hard, the heartbeat in his artery pulsing against my skin.
"Do you—?" I asked quietly, terrified of his answer. "Do you want to be with me?"
Rubbing his nose against my hair, Edward paused, and his voice was rough. "I've never wanted anything more."
"Clearly," I answered, deadpan. "'cause everyone knows the next step is to dump that bitch."
Edward's laughter was short-lived.
"Feather-heart." He sniffed, ever-so-gently caressing my hair. "Before I found out that you… before I knew you were Nala, I had it all figured out. I was going to convince you to do long-distance before returning home from Massachusetts and… moving in with you. Taking you on a hike in gramps's national forest one day and asking you to, to marry me. And, later on…" Edward's voice got low, almost shy. "Starting a family with you."
The most precious, dangerous hope wrapped around my broken heart. With a shuddering breath, I asked, "But not anymore?"
Edward scooted away from our awkward sitting hug. He encased my hands in his, struggling to find the words.
Finally, he said, "I can't, I don't know how to look like I'm happy by the paparazzi—"
"I never asked you to! Not once. You can show them the middle finger every day for the rest of your life, I don't care."
"You don't want a guy who—"
"It is my choice, Edward, mine, who and what I want! My PR team can tell me all about the risks and benefits of dating you but I hire them. I call the shots. I would never ask you to change who you are for PR."
I stared at our hands, scared of demanding answers but knowing I had to.
"Now tell me. Tell me. Why is this not our time? Is it really because you don't want to be in the limelight? Or next to it?"
Edward turned on the warm light near the floor and lowered the volume of music. Looking insanely vulnerable in the dim light without his piercings, he sat half-naked in his sweatpants, pulled his bottom lip in his mouth, and shut his eyes, gesturing before he cleared his throat.
"I don't, I don't want us to slowly lose touch attempting and failing to do long distance. I don't want us to fade into obscurity. I couldn't, I can't—if I lose my only support in college I don't know how I'd move forward. It's better to—"
"Cut your losses?!" I demanded. "You're kidding. You broke up with me because, maybe, in the future, we'd break up anyway? Just a way to get ahead of your fear of me doing it—do it before I could? Is that it? Fuck. If you wanted to be single for college, just say that. I won't like it but at least it's honest."
Edward licked his lips, staring into my soul with his sad, shimmering eyes, his expression so naked without his barbell.
My chest hurt because, wherever else he fucked up, I knew Edward wasn't like that.
"No," Edward said, quietly, voice raspy. He reached for my hand but reconsidered and grazed by forearm with the barest touch. I got goosebumps. "It's been—so much, all at once. So much of everything. Your, your—fame. Fuck, it's surreal to even say it. It's like its own creature. My dad and what the world thinks of him, you and what the world thinks of you. Garrett and Riley. My fucking aunt getting you kidnapped. I wasn't there to stop it, to save you, I just, I just provided them with a connection to you. And school is awful. So much pity, now that everyone knows dad's a meth addict. So much of how people now treat me, what they want from me, how they see me, related to youor my dad. Paparazzi shouting questions at me, every morning, every evening, having to escape them, day after day. I've nearly crashed twice because of them, and I'm not a reckless driver."
"Jesus, Edward—"
I reached out my hand to him. He clasped it tight.
"I can't do this, Bella. Whatever it is, however we're doing it, I can't do it. I need, I need—something to be different. You know, when mom and gran-gran died, I didn't, I never cried. Not once. Dad thought he'd raised a sociopath. I couldn't disagree because, because—what the fuck. How do you lose a mom and never cry?! But, every morning, like clockwork, I'd throw up, for a month. After that, I had to get my shit together because dad fell off the wagon, and I didn't have a choice, and then Riley, and, and… I mean, I met you, and it's, obviously. I wouldn't change meeting you for the world. You're—incredible. You're real and funny and beautiful. I don't care what you say about deserving, I don't deserve you, and the role of Nala couldn't have happened to a worthier person. You've changed me in ways I didn't know I needed to change." Edward kissed my knuckles. "But I'm back in that limbo, vomiting my guts out every morning. I'm... overwhelmed. I don't know how to continue like this. I need something to change."
Swallowing my tears, I squeezed his hand. My masochistic heart held on to his warmth even if I had to let go of him. For all the crazy shit Edward's dad shouted at inanimate objects, he was correct in saying that his son lived his life for others, and I refused to make Edward stay with me if it wasn't what he was prepared to do, however much he wanted it in a hypothetical world.
However much I wanted it.
My heart ached worse than it had when he'd initially left me. Because now I understood better. He was going through too much and he'd been too independent for too long to share the burden. He didn't want to want me, and I wasn't going to force the words out of him. I was fighting a fight I couldn't win.
"And that something should be my absence," I said, blinking back tears as I got up.
Edward slid off the bed, wrapped me against his naked torso and squished his nose against my hair.
"No," he whispered, voice raspy with emotion. "No. Not what I said, not what I meant. I can't do this again."
"But what if you were right? Maybe it's just not our time."
"Or maybe I fucked up."
I took a shaky breath. Edward sat on the edge of the bed, pulling me to straddle his lap, rubbing his permanently dirty palms over my thighs, and fuck if he wasn't the warmest, most delicious thing under me. I was scared of him deciding he couldn't work on us but I couldn't resist being in his arms.
Grazing his soft lips back and forth against my ear, he cleared his throat. "Is it salvageable, what I did?"
"You, you broke my heart," I stuttered before inhaling sharply against his naked shoulder.
"I'm sorry." He kissed the skin in front of my ear and sent butterflies through my heart. "I wanted you to have a better— you have so much ahead of you. I don't want to be something you regret."
"Never. Even after—I would never regret you."
Edward swayed back and forth. He pressed his lips against my temple. "I can't tell you how sorry I am."
"You really hurt me. Do you understand how much you hurt me? How can I rely on you if your first thought when you're overwhelmed is to cut me out of your life?"
"It was far from my first thought, baby."
"Well, it was the first thought you shared with me! Do you understand what that was like? Do you? You had the sweetest, most reassuring sex with me after our fucked-up Sunday, you effectively ignored me for a week, and then, bam! Nuclear option. 'I don't give a shit about you anymore because I'm not cut out for the public life you live.' That's still the core of your problem, is it? Was it? How do I defend that?"
I pulled back to see his face, and Edward looked unexpectedly ashamed, watching his hands on my hips, and when our eyes met, I knew.
He'd said it because he knew it wasn't something I could've changed.
Smart asshole.
A part of me wanted to punch him.
"Is it a deal-breaker? Or did you only say that because you knew I couldn't argue against it? Is it even true?"
"It's true. I'd rather not live a public life, but—it's not a deal-breaker. I just… baby, I don't know how to—what if I never want to go to award shows with you? How many viral posts about me being an unsupportive boyfriend will you take before you start to resent me? What if I don't know how to be okay with you filming sex scenes? Because I don't. There mere thought is unacceptable. And the entire world rooting for a romance between you and Mike is just—" Edward squeezed me, pressing his lips against my hairline, whispering, "I love you too much to let you be with someone who can't get his shit together."
"Baby—"
"And I don't know how to share you. The thought that you'll just slowly grow to resent me kills me."
Hiding my face in the crook of his neck, I stroked his naked back, enjoying his scent and the rare, vulnerable picture he painted of his insecurities, even if he couldn't look me in the eye as he shared them. Even if this should've been the conversation in my bedroom, not his.
"I love you, too," I whispered, hoping to reassure him, enjoying the rising and falling of his chest against mine. "I don't have all the answers, but, you take too much responsibility for everyone and everything in your life. I get it. It's a habit. But don't take responsibility over what I want, or what I might want."
"I don't—"
"You do! You so do. I don't care if you think you have your shit together, and there's so many conversations we're yet to have. So many, you couldn't fit them into this week, this month, and probably the year. I'm sure I can't even know most of them yet. I also don't care if you never join me on the red carpet. I have mom and dad and Riley, Mike if he wants to go as friends, maybe Garrett eventually—I'd be over the moon to have you there with me one day but nothing changes if you never join. If I have to choose between having you in my life without getting to show you off or not having you in my life at all… it's not even close. I'd always choose to have you with me. The worst part would be seeing the media interpret your preferences as your lack of support, but I'm sure we'd figure something out for that.
"And I'm sorry the world is rooting for Mike and me, but it's how fandoms are. The actors playing the main characters almost always get an avalanche of fan videos overanalyzing every look, hoping for romance. I can't change that. But he's so old, Edward. He's ancient. We're getting closer as friends but, honestly, even if we were single and had a smaller age gap, there's just nothing there. I mean, fantastic on-screen chemistry but literal nothing in real life. He's super into his girlfriend, I'm head over heels in love with you, and I… if we… I'd like it if you got to know each other better. He's rich and sometimes detached from reality but overall just a guy who doesn't know who to trust in this business. I think you'd feel better about our friendship if you got to know him."
"I understand." Edward let out a slow breath. "I believe you. I can try not let it bother me, and—maybe. But… I still don't know how to be the kind of boyfriend who's okay with sex scenes. I'm sure the internet would love to shit on me for being an insecure, jealous asshole but it's just that—I'm not an actor. It's not that I don't trust you, I just… I can't tell you how much I loathe the idea of some other guy—" Edward squished me so hard my back cracked.
"I hate that I don't have an answer to this one," I replied. "But what I can say is that you're not insecure, jealous, or an asshole—or if you are, then so am I. I would overanalyze your sex scenes to death if the roles were reversed. But… would it help if you were on set for it?"
He startled. "They'd allow me?"
"I'm the fucking Nala, baby. I've spent a year being the biggest people-pleaser, scared that they'd think I was difficult or call me a kid if I ever raised my voice, but… I didn't realize how much power I had until I asked for an NDA for you, rocking the boat I'd never dared to rock. I could've probably even pushed back on the first kiss thing, but I… I didn't know I had that power, and I didn't know how to use it. I'm not going to kick up a storm now that I'm aware of this but I could easily slip it into my contract that I'm not doing a sex scene unless you're on set."
Edward scoffed. "The world would call me the most controlling, abusive boyfriend who ever lived."
"Well the world can go fuck itself. Millions of people talking about insecurities and jealousy on their keyboard who will never have to handle having a significant other who has to pretend to have sex with another person. Like I said, I'd be crazy anxious if the roles were reversed—but that's not the point. The point is, would it help for you to be there?"
Edward pulled back from our hug and brushed his fingers over my cheek.
"I think so," he replied softly. "Hopefully not, not forever, but my imagination would… I'm not sure I'd sleep otherwise."
"Okay then. It's years away, but I can make sure it gets scheduled around your breaks." Bubbling with hope, I kissed his palm. "I'm never allowed on set when sex scenes are filmed, but I've heard it's crazy awkward and it will be the most choreographed scene ever. And, remember, I've never had one, obviously. I'll be a nervous wreck. They'll use my double for the first scene if it's scheduled before I turn eighteen, but—"
"There's others." Edward rubbed my arms and searched my eyes in the dim light. I slid my fingers along the bracelets on his wrist, dreading but also hopeful of his silence.
"I don't have money for it right now but I might need… I might need—" He averted his gaze. "Professional help. Not that, I mean, I'm fine, it's just, I get stuck with a few issues. I can't—think myself out of them. Would you be okay if I discussed all of this with someone?"
No promises to love me forever could've filled me with so much hope. I wanted to laugh and cry and throw myself at him but he looked like that level of relief might've added further pressure to, what must've been, a tough thing to admit.
"Of course." Heart bursting out of my chest, I cupped his jaw and enjoyed the stubble beginning to emerge under his chin. Barely keeping my voice level, I asked, "Would it be too much to hope that that could be the something that needs to change?"
"If I can afford it." Edward's small smile lit a fireball in my heart. "I'm not yet approved for Medicaid, and even after I am, it might take months if not years for them to approve me for therapy, if ever, and the lines are—"
"Let us help," I interrupted. "I know you don't want us to, I know you're your own person and you'd rather not accept help, but… it would mean the world to me, to us, if you let us help you."
Edward stared at me with odd intensity.
"So the cost of keeping you is having to swallow my pride and take your money."
"No!" I argued, but I understood what he meant. If going to therapy for whatever was holding him back from being with me was only possible with our money, and only therapy could've helped him to (work on the issues that would allow him to) be with me, he was right. "Not in that way, at least. It's not a test. It's not—you wouldn't owe the money or anything if you still… you'd never owe it. And I absolutely disagree with what I'm about to say, but if it really goes against everything that you are to accept that money, then… write a contract with Garrett or me or even my parents. Something that puts you on the hook for the money if you ever earn a certain amount in a few years. Without interest, obviously, and only if you're comfortably making six figures—"
"Yes," Edward replied enthusiastically, squishing me against him. "Yes. You're a genius. If—if Garrett is okay with that, I'd like to—very much."
"I'm sure he'd much rather just give you the money, just like I would."
"I don't care. This way I can—I feel much more in control." I felt lightheaded with hope as Edward caressed my hair and breathed against my ear. "Thank you."
We sat on the edge of the bed with me straddling his lap and stroking his fresh buzz cut as we listened to yet another end of the song Edward had put on repeat. I could barely contain my restlessness, this inexplicable energy inside of me that told me we might just be okay. But I felt fragile, too, wondering if it would've been too pathetic to ask for reassurances when Edward held me tighter and kissed my temple so tenderly I could've flown away.
"I would've waited for you," he whispered.
"What?"
He brushed his lips across my skin. "In five or ten years. After I was done with college, and you were done with Underground Memories, I was going to wait for you. If you ever… if you ever."
I felt touched beyond measure, but his words were bittersweet.
"What if you weren't single?"
"I would've been single," Edward insisted. "That's what waiting means. I would've waited."
"What if I wasn't single?"
He paused, pressing another soft kiss against my skin, letting out a breath. His voice was strained. "I would've let you go."
"What if I was unhappy in my relationship?"
"I would've fought for you. I would've fought for you with everything I have. I would've made you mine again."
Conflicting feelings warred within me, awe for his determination and anger for how willing he'd been to throw our relationship to fate. Fragile, unpredictable fate.
"That's so uncertain, though. All of it. Change one little thing, and your whole plan is ruined. You meet a girl in college, bam. Everything's different."
"No. I would've waited for you."
I scoffed. "C'mon, Edward. Be real. Of course you wouldn't have waited."
"Yes, I would've."
I believed that he believed his words, in the way that my serious, responsible, intimidating boyfriend meant every idea that passed his lips, in the way that his integrity had revealed that I'd had hope. Because he never told me that he didn't love me.
It would've been a lie, and he was a dreadful liar.
But that didn't mean he would've been successful in his waiting, if, indeed, he'd been determined to follow through with it.
"And you intended to tell me this when, exactly?"
Edward shook his head, knowing as well as I did that any further discussion would've taken us back to the land of what I deserved in his eyes.
He tilted my chin up and studied my face. Touching the side of my nose with his, side-to-side, Edward covered my neck with the warmest palms and stroked my skin. A flutter of butterflies danced in my stomach. His face was still red from before, his gaze vulnerable and tender, his eyes shining, drinking me in.
"Can you forgive me?" he asked at last, voice gruff and whispery.
As if I hadn't already.
Unable to focus on his face, I shut my eyes. "You can't just leave when the going gets tough. You can't. I can't ask you to promise me forever but I'll need to you to talk to me. To share with me and fight with me. Anything."
"But what if I want your forever?"
My heart burst into flames.
"You sure have a funny way of showing it," I replied before I could help it.
The hurt that flashed in his eyes made me regret my words. His hands dropped.
"If you don't want," he said, lowering his gaze. "If you don't want— That's okay. I deserve it."
"No! No."
Edward didn't do anything half-assed. He may have had misguided intentions but I was so lucky that everything was all or nothing with him.
"I'm sorry I snapped." I kissed the side of his hand before I put his hands back around me and my forehead on his lips. "I'm sorry."
"I deserve worse."
"I don't care if you do. My parents raised me better than this." I pulled back and gave him a sad smile. "But I can't just will myself out of being hurt. I forgive you but I can't snap my fingers and wish it away. I'll need to see you stick around, and… we'll have a lot to discuss, anyway. Just give me time."
Edward kissed my forehead.
"And of course I want your forever," I admitted, quieter. "How could I not?"
His gaze wrapped me in affection as he cupped my jaw and stroked his thumbs over my cheeks.
"Am I allowed to kiss you?" he whispered.
Bursting with raw, restrained energy, I pressed my lips against his. Edward's sharp inhale was followed by taking hold of my hips as he pulled me flush against his body. I felt breathless. He held me tight, moving his lips against mine like he'd forgotten to breathe for a year, and I got used to the strange reality of kissing without his cold barbell bumping against my face. His scent and the way he felt under my body, and lean muscle and warmth, felt achingly familiar but new, too—full of hurt and love and promises I was too scared to believe.
I missed every square inch of him I'd been terrified I'd lost.
"Feather-heart," Edward whispered, eyes wild as he panted against my lips. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I tried to— I'll make it up to you. I'm so sorry." He kissed my eyebrows, my cheek, and my lips, mumbling apologies. "I can't believe you're here. I can't believe you came here. I have so much work to do to deserve you. You're amazing."
"I'll take that over clingy and pathetic."
"No. You're so brave, fuck. I can't believe I almost lost the best thing that's ever— Are you really giving me another shot?"
"I mean, I don't have a gun, but… does it count if I find a bullet and throw it at you?"
Edward laughed like I hadn't made the worst kind of dad joke my dad would've been embarrassingly proud of.
"I love you," Edward replied, eyes brimming with awe. He pressed his lips against mine, sliding his hands under my shirt and adjusting me delightfully close to where I wanted him, and I was ready to dissolve into all the love particles when my phone buzzed. My attempts to catch Edward's attention failed until I pushed him away.
"Baby, stop."
Eyes wide, Edward whipped his hands out of my shirt like he'd been burned.
"Sorry," he whispered, looking terrified. "I didn't mean to—we don't have to—"
"No." I smiled. "Travis is outside and I think someone just messaged me. He promised to burst in if I don't reply within a few minutes."
I reached for my phone, and, sure enough, I'd received a message from Travis only a minute ago. Feeling unexpectedly shy, I touched Edward's cheek and asked, "Can I tell him to return home? That I'm spending the night and you'll never let your dad be alone with me?"
Edward's relieved, twinkling eyes could've given me wings.
Unsure if my request would actually be granted, I reassured Travis that he'd be paid double for whatever time he'd been here in a message I swiped to him and my parents. Dad called Edward and Travis spoke to mom but ultimately it was Edward's reassurance that calmed them all, and my boyfriend looked at me with such bright, beautiful eyes as he spoke to dad that I began to stroke his chest.
He twitched and snapped my hands away but stifled his smile as he finished talking to dad. Having thrown his phone by his pillow, he gripped my wrists, nuzzled my ear, and said, "Don't turn me on when I'm talking to your dad, baby."
"Why? Want to punish me?"
Edward growled against my hair before we began to stumble out of our clothes with breathless urgency, but he startled when a small item escaped my pocket and clattered across the floor.
"Riley's monoclonius," I explained against his lips. "I'm building it a temple after tonight."
Edward laughed, caressing my ass before he crushed me against his body. I felt high, melting into his arms, having thought I'd lost him. But he was here, in my arms, naked and gorgeous and kissing me. He lifted me on the bed and left a trail of kisses downward before he spent so much time eating me out I would've begged for mercy had I not been painfully aware of his thin walls. He whispered silly, adorable comments to my hyperpigmentation spot before scooting his hoodie under my ass and pouring an inappropriate amount of oh-so-cold lube on me. I adored his dazed expression as he pushed himself inside of me, and I wrapped every part of myself around him, my legs and my arms and my heart still tender from our break-up.
Edward clung to me, staring at me with such a red-faced, daunting intensity I would've felt self-conscious had his gaze not made me feel like a lost wonder of the world. Time ceased to exist in the needy, hasty rhythm he set, and I felt an otherworldly connection to him when he stared at me without focus, his lips brushing against mine as he came.
I hugged him with everything I had. I felt hot and sweaty but couldn't have moved away for anything. Edward's chest rose and fell with his breaths.
The light flickered.
"I never letting you go again," Edward whispered, nuzzling my cheek.
Floating away in his words, I tickled my fingers with his hair.
"You'd better not," I replied, smiling. "Otherwise you'll have to tell Riley that his dinosaurs aren't magical after all, and that's just not acceptable if I'm to build temples for them."
Edward grinned against my ear.
I reached over to cover us with his gran-gran's blankie. Edward turned us sideways but kept me tight against him, intertwining our legs and playing with my no doubt frizzy curls. We spoke about why I hadn't told my parents about our break-up. How my parents, instead of punishing me, had multiple longer conversations with me about their worry of our lives being too intertwined, how worried they were that my little moments of rebellion should've been bigger moments of teenage anger sooner, before I got famous. Unused to parent figures, Edward felt bad when he heard how concerned my parents had been when he withdrew from us.
It felt incredible to cover the smaller and bigger topics that hung between us, and some we just hadn't had the opportunity to share.
Edward played with the locket around my neck during a pause in our conversation.
"Would it be okay if we took our feet off the gas pedal for a bit?"
I could've sworn my heart stopped beating.
"You want a break? Like Ross and Rachel?"
"Fuck, no. Don't sleep with someone else."
I would've laughed if I wasn't so full of panic.
"Is this a break during which you want to figure out if you want to be with me at all?"
"No. No. Not a break, baby. Not a break. Just… It's all so intense with you, and I love it. I love it. But dad's back home and he'll never be fully okay, but he's been pretty good so far. I'd like to live here with him until court, see if they'd send him to rehab. I have so much coming up right now, too, scholarship decisions and olympiads and chess world championship and granny's probate decision." Edward kissed me. "I'm not asking for a break, baby. I'm asking if it's okay if I live here again."
My heart started beating again. "You're eighteen—"
"I know," Edward interrupted quietly. "I'm not asking for your permission. I'm asking if you'd feel like I'm rejecting you if I stay here after tonight."
I kissed his knuckles, gathering my thoughts, pushing back my worries. "I'm… obviously, I love having you live with us, and I'll miss you like crazy, but… as long as you don't push me away, I'll be okay. But, would you, will we—we'd still be together, right?"
"Fuck yeah." Edward gave me a long, languid kiss before he pulled back with laughter in his eyes. "You'll have to learn to pick up your phone, though. And call me, too, sometimes, if you ever remember your poor unknown boyfriend—"
Edward laughed when I blew a raspberry on his shoulder, but I pulled myself closer and squeezed my boobs against him. He groaned.
"I'll miss this, though," I admitted, adoring the feel of his heartbeat against my chest as I kissed his hair.
"Jesus fuck me too."
In a series of talented movements, Edward pulled gran-gran's precious blankie out from underneath us without ever letting go of me, and our round two was full of love and hope and quiet laughter.
Sweaty and hot, Edward spooned me from behind, throwing one of his thighs over my waist and snuggling my body. He covered the back of my hand with his own and intertwined our fingers.
Feeling deliciously protected and liquid in his arms, I asked, "Since you were so set on waiting for me… presuming you always met Riley without me home, when do you think we'd have met again?"
Edward gave me goosebumps when he kissed the back of my ear and ran his fingertips over my forearm.
"In 7 years."
"That's… specific." I grinned. "And we'd both be single, I suppose?"
"Of course," he replied like it was the most natural thing. "You'd be filming a movie in a small town in…"
"The Czech Republic," I filled in, going along with his little story.
"Yes. You'd be done with Underground Memories. You'd see a poster for the World Chess Championship with my name on it, and come see it. In extensive disguise, of course, but you'd walk over to congratulate me after it's over—"
"Wait, you'd win the world championships? Against Magnus Carlsen?"
Edward choked a laugh, so warm against my skin, and he didn't have to tell me that in this fantasy future, anything was possible.
"Of course," he repeated. "And nobody but me would recognize you, but you'd ask me to meet you at some fancy restaurant. I'd come, and… we wouldn't be able to stop talking. You'd be gorgeous and smart and I still wouldn't deserve you but I'd absolutely follow you to your hotel room before we spent the night together, and I'd blow your mind with how much I've improved."
I grinned because of course he would (re)start our future romance with sex.
"Wait, how would you blow my mind with your newfound skills if you were waiting for me?"
"Why, because of all the—" Edward shut up, eyes sparkling as he stifled his grin. "Extremely average amount of porn, of course."
I laughed until I had tears in my eyes. Edward had already told me about all the unexpected ways in which real sex was different (and better) from porn, and he'd tried hard not to laugh at me when I'd admitted that I'd had no clue just how messy sex was. The stories I'd read of women just pulling undies on without going to the bathroom felt insane now that I knew just how much clean-up the aftermath required.
Delighted by the story he made up for me, I kissed his hairy forearm. "And then what?"
Edward pressed his lips against my jaw. "We'd keep it secret at first because we wouldn't want to get your parents' or Riley's hopes up, but we'd travel to each other whenever we could before paparazzi photos blasted through the internet and made us admit that we're together again. And then—" He lowered his voice, as if admitting to a secret, turned my head and pressed his lips against mine. The shy twinkle in his eyes was a sight to behold. "You'd marry me."
"Oh, would I?" I teased, barely containing my cuteness overload. "And then, I suppose, we'd live happily ever after?"
"Absolutely we will." Edward pulled me tighter against him and brushed hair from my ear. His warmth and scent almost undid me. "We can't get married before my Master's is done because you'd end up paying for my tuition, but I don't want to wait seven years to have a shot at meeting up again."
My heart felt too big for my chest.
His worry might've been the most Edward thing to come out of his mouth. He'd said he wanted my forever, but it was surreal to hear that his end-game was as serious as marriage and kids, with me.
But it wouldn't have been Edward if he wasn't prepared to be all in in our relationship after making that decision.
As many issues and challenges we could expect to face in the future, I could hardly believe I'd won him back.
"Me, neither." I turned on my back, facing him. "But, I'm sixteen. I'm in no rush. I'm just happy you're with me."
Relieved and twinkle-eyed, he straddled my body and whispered words of love against my lips. I touched his eyebrow, sans barbell, ready to ask why he'd removed his piercings when he took my breath away with a tender kiss, and I sunk into the mattress under the most delicious weight of my boyfriend.
…
A jolt of worry ran through me when I woke up and realized I'd fallen asleep without going to the bathroom. Mom would've killed me if I returned with a UTI, so, even though I didn't need to pee, I was hoping it would help to try.
Having taken care of most of the mess with tissues, I slipped into my pants and a T-shirt, wondering if I should've woken Edward up, but I decided to leave him to his rest when I cracked the door and heard nothing.
A strip of light illuminated the floor underneath the bathroom door. I hesitated, wondering if I was better off slipping back into Edward's room to wait, but something stopped me.
A small, unmoving shadow interrupted the sliver of light on the floor.
"Sir?" I called through bathroom door. "Are you okay, sir?"
No response.
I crouched to see under the door but couldn't see anything. Calling out for him once again, I turned the handle. It was locked.
My stomach twisted.
Heart pounding violently in my chest, I threw Edward's door open and shook his shoulder. Groggy, adorable eyes lit up with a sleepy smile before Edward grabbed my wrist and bolted upright.
"What happened?"
"Your dad's in the bathroom—he's not saying anything—maybe it's nothing but I tried the door—"
Edward threw on the closest pair of pants and flew into the hallway. Eyes wide and alert, he rattled the bathroom door, calling for him.
"Did you see him go in?" he insisted with a groggy, tight edge in his voice.
"No."
I felt helpless when Edward ran to his room and returned with a crochet hook.
"Go to my room, baby."
"No," I refused, watching him insert the crochet hook into a tiny hole in the doorknob. "Does this happen often?"
Edward's didn't answer, but it had to have happened often enough for him to know exactly which tool to get from where.
The loudest little click indicated the door's unlocking.
Edward flung it open.
His dad was leaning limp against the bathroom wall, chin on his chest, mouth open, eyes half-shut without visible irises. An empty syringe lay by his side. Edward threw the needle on the shower floor before he put his fingers on his dad's neck. Terrified, bewildered eyes locked in mine.
The flick of his wrist sent me to grab Carl's ankles—holy fuck, so cold—and drag them to the hallway as Edward held his upper body, pushing as I pulled. He lowered Carl's head on the floor, unbuttoned his shirt, and began chest compressions.
"No," he said, voice tight with disbelief. "You don't get to die tonight, dad. Not tonight."
I rushed into Edward room, snagged the closest phone—Edward's—swiped the unlock code, and dialed the number as Edward stared at me with empty, unblinking eyes.
A part of him must've known it was too late.
"911, what's your emergency?"
…