…
Scheduled for Friday
by Anton M.
58: All Hell
…
Sunday, February 19
The sun blinded me before I'd even opened my eyes, and I discovered myself naked and partially underneath my equally naked boyfriend, who was scrolling on his phone. I felt warm. The house was quiet. Delightfully happy, I stretched and pressed a kiss against Edward's chest. Glancing down and discovering me awake, Edward set his phone aside and gave me the cutest bright-eyed smile.
"Feather-heart."
I adored waking up to his groggy voice in his naked arms.
"Morning," I replied, heart exploding in my chest. "I can't begin to tell you what a big, fat apology I owe to Mike—colleague."
Edward's eyes glinted with the discovery of a secret. "Mike? Your co-star's name is Mike?"
"No," I backtracked, heart beating quicker. "I said my colleague."
"I heard you," Edward teased, nuzzling my cheek. "Don't worry, I'll do some Googling before I propose a list of Mikes and Michaels for you to deny. But tell me, why does Mike deserve an apology?"
"My colleague."
"Sure-sure," Edward said, clearly not believing me. "And the apology?"
"Because—" I traced a line from his neck to his bellybutton, shivering when his cock stood at attention. "He always complains about having to leave his girlfriend home when we have an early call—if she's visiting. I thought he was just being whiny but now I don't know how he ever does it."
Edward scooted lower under the blanket and squished me against him. "Me, neither," he whispered into my ear, and if I did give my first blow-job before working out the strangest muscles one more time, I gave no sign of it when we joined my parents.
Edward, on the other hand, wore such a gloriously shit-eating grin I made him pretend to have an issue with his bike before coming inside (ahem). It was one thing for my parents to suspect what had happened, it was wholly another to rub it in their faces mere hours after.
Besides, I kind of liked keeping it for ourselves for a little bit.
Riley and my parents drove to visit Riley's father Jesse at Phillips State Prison while Edward taught me how to drive his bike in the empty outer edges of a Walmart parking lot. We didn't dare stay in our cul-de-sac not only because mom had asked yet another paparazzo to leave minutes before we'd arrived but because Edward was worried they'd snap photos of me practicing (and write clickbait headlines that could've actually gotten me in trouble, like, 'Garrett's Daughter Drives BF's Motorcycle without a License').
Regardless, Edward was allowing me to use the clutch and the accelerator for the first time. He straddled the bike behind me with his hands on the handles half on top of mine.
"Easy, baby," he whispered in my ear, slowing the motorcycle to a standstill. "Remember where the shift lever is?"
I banged it with my foot.
"And what do you do when you want to change gears?"
I smiled. I was starting to love my Motorcycle 101 lessons when given by my adorable, no-longer-intimidating boyfriend. "Release the throttle, pull the clutch, change gears, release the clutch, back to throttle."
"Beautiful," he praised, his lips grazing my neck. "And what do you want to avoid?"
Determined not to be distracted, I replied, "Power shifting. Riding the clutch."
"You remember what those mean?"
I gave him the stink eye. He laughed.
"Okay, okay. Enough of that. Remember, be gentle, be slow, and keep shifting one gear up and down. I'm right here."
I made all the mistakes Edward told me not to do, but at least I didn't crash the bike. I made the bike sputter, she died at least half a dozen times, and Edward came to my rescue at least as many, but I was slowly starting to get the hang of it. Ever-patient, Edward surrounded me with his body as he held the handles but only interfered when needed.
I also realized that last night had unlocked something intimate in our interactions. It wasn't that sex had been life-changing. In fact, other than soreness, I didn't actually feel any different. The whole fuss in school about who was a virgin and who wasn't and who'd lost theirs and when felt wildly overstated. In one night, all those insecurities had become meaningless.
And yet, while it hadn't changed my world, it changed our comfort level with each other. Edward's lack of hesitation in touching me, the way his eyes glinted when using a double entendre, or how, instead of pulling back when I could feel his hard on, he comfortably acknowledged being turned on with a wink—it all created an ease I reveled in.
I had a suspicion that mom might've noticed but at least dad had remained oblivious (or we would've died of all the layers of embarrassment).
…
One paparazzo car returned in the early Monday morning. After some discussion, my parents, Edward and I decided to simply ignore the man, which meant that my drive to school with Edward was escorted by a tan sedan.
What were they going to do, write articles about Bella Swan driving to school on a Monday morning? Truly, I had no hope left for the world if that made headlines.
After we'd hopped off Edward's bike and he'd wrapped a protective arm around my shoulders, I got the strangest feeling that people were stealing glances at me. Like in a paranoid dream, they'd look away just as I looked back at them, which made me feel like I'd imagined their attention, but it kept happening so frequently that I had to believe it was real. Edward was certainly uncomfortable enough for me to believe it to be real.
It only got worse inside the school, where I was overwhelmed with a chorus of,
"Hi, Bella," "Hi, Bella," "Hi, Bella," "Good morning, Bella," "Lookin' good, Bella," "How's G-Kam, Bella?" and I tried (and failed) to keep up with my replies until Jasper appeared from around a corner and fake-gasped.
"Hi, Bella!" he repeated in the most hilariously squeaky voice. "Where'd you get your jeans, Bella! Oh my God is that really you, Bella? Are we deserving of—"
Edward slapped Jasper's stomach. "Knock it off, man. It's not her fault."
The two locked eyes, and Jasper opened his mouth to reply but immediately closed it, tilted his head, and got the most wicked spark in his eyes.
"Masen, you dawg." He wiggled like a small dog eager for a bone. "Fuck you move fast. Wasn't it only—"
Eyes totally twinkling, Edward smacked Jasper in an attempt to make him shut up, and the two grappled with each other on the floor long enough to gather an audience. Moments later, Mr. Needham pushed through the throng and cleared his throat above them, arms crossed.
The boys were up in a flash, arms wrapped around each other's shoulders.
"How are you today, Mr. Needham?"
You'd have to have been blind not to see Mr. Needham's mouth twitch as he fought with himself not to smile.
"Cleaning the floor for us today?"
"Yes, sir," they answered simultaneously, smiling and nodding even if they were still panting.
And it just struck me how valuable a friend a guy like Jasper made Edward. Jasper gave Edward freedom to be a teenager in a world of responsibilities, and thankfully Blaise Needham must've seen it too because instead of punishing them, he turned to me.
"May I have a word?"
A few students whistled with a tone that said, 'Someone is in trouublee,' but all Mr. Needham had to do was glance at the students to make them stop. For such a soft-spoken teacher, he had a presence that refused bullshit without having to be wordy about it.
He unlocked his classroom but only closed the door behind him before he leaned against the teacher's table and took off his glasses.
"Are you okay?"
It was so unexpected and kind of him to check up on me that I nearly got tears in my eyes. It had only been a few years since he'd helped us apply to all the systems that kept us fed, and my parents hadn't had time to have him over for dinner but it was wildly sweet of him to care. I made a note to myself to make my parents invite him for dinner after we'd moved.
"It's weird but I'm okay. It helps that Edward is determined not to be out of my sight."
Blaise's smile implied just how much he'd found out about Edward's life.
"He's a good boy." He paused, holding the tip of his glasses to his mouth. "I just wanted to warn you that students are not the only ones acting weird about this. A few teachers feel very strongly about your biological father."
"Positively or negatively?"
"Both," he admitted. "But if anyone's unfair to either end, just come talk to me. I'll sort it out."
He wasn't kidding. While most teachers didn't treat me any different (although sometimes even that felt forced), some made snarky pointed comments or got inappropriately praise-y in subjects where I was average on the best of days.
It worked both ways, though. When a student in Physical Sciences implied that I'd only received an A because Garrett was my father, Mrs. Alston pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes, and said,
"And I suppose you got an A because you have a pet rabbit, is that what you're saying?"
Students snickered.
I wanted to hug Mrs. Alston.
It suddenly felt like what I did well was because Garrett was my father, and what I did poorly was because why wouldn't an actor have a daughter who was an entitled little shit? I felt vulnerable and faux-powerful, always having to be ready to respond politely to overwhelming praise for Garrett, or, on the other end of the spectrum, scoffing contempt for my presumed privilege.
Not everyone made these assumptions but the ones that did stood out.
Students also took not-so-covert photos of us in the hallways. Some took videos. Edward loathed it, always turning his back and stepping in front of me to hide me from the cameras, and his hatred was all over his posture and this silent sigh he let out whenever it happened.
And it happened a lot.
Jasper, if he was around, made an immediate mockery of the spectacle, posing like a model and pretending to do a cat-walk in front of anyone trying to take a video of us. Most students laughed. Some got annoyed.
Alice, who'd gotten back from the dentist, looked like she wanted to die a thousand deaths because of the attention I was receiving. I desperately wanted to speak to her but with everyone being so damn attentive and trigger-happy to shoot videos, I didn't dare so much as whisper anything significant. Instead, whenever Edward had to be elsewhere, Alice and I texted while sitting right next to each other. Her jaw dropped when she heard that Edward and I had already had sex but she was happy my experience had been the opposite of hers.
Alice and Jasper were taking things way slower than us. Both had pretty strict parents, and Alice was scared that, with Jasper being bi, he would lose interest… after. (She also texted me about Jasper being bi with the biggest 'You won't believe what I'm about to tell you!' with seventeen exclamation marks, but I had to disappoint her and admit that Edward had already told me.)
She'd heard that bi guys were really only gay guys in the closet, which I couldn't confirm or deny, having no other close friends who were bi, but I asked her how he reacted when they made out, and the shade of red her face turned into hadn't been invented yet.
So, safe to say, she was probably fine. Besides, maybe her dad had given her the idea. Her dad was kind of old, with ancient opinions, and being gay wasn't as big of a deal nowadays, anyway. If Jasper was gay, not bi, he didn't seem like the type of guy who'd have a problem admitting that.
They did make a bit of an odd couple, though. Jasper had the energy of a coked-up chipmunk while Alice avoided attention like the plague. Jasper had a fancy motorcycle that Alice refused to ride (insanity). And yet… when Alice played around with designs in Canva on her iPad, Jasper calmed down, sitting next to her on the hallway floor and asking questions. He teased her mercilessly (which Alice was still getting used to), and her hair got a workout with all the ruffling Jasper was doing to it, but their relationship felt endearing and I didn't have any doubt that Jasper was into her. Because when Alice was really uncomfortable with something Jasper did, he stopped.
Imagine that.
Sadly, Skylar, Kate, and Jane were giving Alice (and, by extension, me) the silent treatment after finding out that Alice had kept my secret but neither of us shared it with them, but Alice suspected that a part of their attitude came from her tendency to disappear with me whenever I was in school. It was true, too. Given my frequent absence from school, the three girls had always been more Alice's friends than mine, and I felt out of place with them when Alice wasn't in school. She was the glue between us. I didn't practice silent treatments (my dad thought that nothing was more childish than a refusal to communicate) but I could respect them for at least not sucking up to me endlessly after finding out that Garrett Kamwanga was my biological father (like so many others were doing).
And, at the end of the day… they were right. I didn't know how to solve it, but I could see how they thought that Alice got a shiny new toy every time I appeared in school. We were best friends. Had Edward not happened in my life, I would've felt pretty lonely going through school without Alice.
But I didn't have an answer to her except to wait it out, as usual. They tended to come around.
Plus, a rumor was spreading through school that Lauren had switched schools after the videos about her interaction with Garrett spread through TikTok and Instagram. Nobody knew if this was the truth, not even her cousin Eric, but Edward and Jasper both confirmed that she'd been sick on Friday and hadn't shown her face in school today, either.
And then there was Peter, whom I'd understandably forgotten about after the world's longest week.
He found me after my gym class. The way he carefully approached me, he must've been looking for an opportunity to talk to me without hordes of students vying for my attention.
I waved at Alice and stepped to the side.
Peter had shadows under his eyes. He kept rubbing his hands, nervous beyond anything I'd seen, stepped closer, and stood between me and the front door.
"I didn't know," his said, quietly, his gray eyes fixed on my shoulder. "I swear I didn't know. I had no clue. I'm so sorry for… I'm sorry." He wrapped his arms around his torso, not crossing them, looking awkward and vulnerable. "It's been a shit show."
I nudged his arm when he anxiously met my gaze. "Thank you. Not your fault, but I believe you."
He deflated and adjusted his glasses.
"Have they been sentenced yet?" I asked. "Or whatever they call it?"
"No. I thought they would've been. It's always such a tense, quick thing on TV, but they said it might take months before we know if they go to prison. And for how long, and for what. I mean, they didn't actually get the money they tried to extort, but— I don't know. I don't know what happens now except they should be getting released under bail today or tomorrow."
"But you're—okay? Edward mentioned your uncle lives with you guys?"
"I'm—" He shrugged. "Fine, I guess. Yeah. My uncle's there, and my sister, too." A weak smile broke through his expression. "She's full of holy rage, never seen her so angry. You'd like her."
We parted after awkwardly confirming that I didn't see an issue staying friends with him (as long as I didn't have to spend time with his parents, anyway).
By the time Edward and I left school, I felt exhausted. The never-ending pressure to stay kind and smiley and polite when the seventy third person asked about what Garrett Kamwanga was really like, what it was like to be his daughter, if I'd been on set with him, and most of all, what a mind-blowing genius he was and how lucky I was to be his daughter, it was starting to get to me. I hated having this constant awareness of phones appearing in the distance, taking photos or filming us. It would've happened anyway with Underground Memories, of course, but at least with UM the scrutiny would've been tied to something I achieved, not who I was related to.
The intrigue had started to wear off by the end of the day, and judging by Edward's blown-out cheeks as we exited the schoolhouse, he, too, was overwhelmed by the day. I'd kept a curious eye on the newspapers, and while they did publish my ride to school, at least it was small potatoes. Nobody cared.
It gave me hope that this attention would wane.
I spent Monday evening sprawled on the (now carpet-less) living room floor, with Jake sleeping on top of my back, calculating the volumes of all the 3D shapes a math book could make up when our doorbell rang. Edward called for me before I found Garrett on the porch, equipped with his usual bodyguards but fortunately no apparent paparazzi.
It took a few sentences of small talk for me to comprehend that he wanted to take me out to dinner in the hopes that it would reduce the paparazzi we were dealing with, which would've been sweet had he warned me in advance. Did all rich people have this kind of audacious self-confidence?
Dear God, would I turn out like that? I wondered how Mike would've acted if I just showed up on his doorstep.
"It sounds like a good plan but I have a test in geometry tomorrow."
"I'll write you a note," Garrett offered, waving at our neighbors when five pairs of eyes gawked at him from their window.
"Absolutely not," mom refused, appearing behind me and putting her hand on my shoulder. "There will be no notes excusing Bella from her geometry test, and I'd be very disappointed if Mrs. Washington allowed her not to do the test just because you wrote Bella's note."
Garrett's charming smile felt slightly disingenuous, as if he disagreed but didn't want to ruffle mom's feathers.
"How about dinner with all of you, tomorrow evening?"
…
All of us meant all of us, including Riley, because Riley was now my little foster brother, and I was convinced that my parents were secretly hoping he would get tired quickly to give us an excuse to leave early.
At least school had been easier on Tuesday. I spoke to Mr. Needham in the morning and told him all about the sneaky filming in the corridors, and I had no clue whom he spoke to, but by lunchtime, the hallways were a strict no-video zone. Teachers confiscated phones whenever students didn't listen. Some accused me of being the cause of this rule (guilty as charged) while others whispered that the teachers had long been annoyed by all the self-identified content creators and worried about the risk of being captured scolding students in the hallways.
Whatever the reason, I loved it. I still got approached and talked about to an uncomfortable degree, but at least I didn't have to fear that someone's video captured the wrong end of my sentence and tagged me as the newest member of the KKK or something.
It got better. My outfits sold out again (I couldn't wait to tell someone that I wore my mother's clothes) and I got tied to quite a few articles about nepo babies (thanks, world), but the Instagram and TikTok follower race was beginning to slow. I was scared to spend time on either platform for fear of not being able to handle the racists and the haters, but there was no doubt that the intrigue of my existence had began to fade.
I didn't dare to post my normal Mr. Bahati content, either. I felt an insane pressure to get it just right, and I couldn't experiment in my humor if I was scared to make errors.
All in all, I stayed away from social media in a way I never did, and it had surprisingly little to do with my phone now just dying sometimes, probably as a result of all the water that seeped in during the rainstorm. (Worth it, though.)
Emmett, in true security guard fashion, scared my parents shitless about the future and made them hire extra construction workers, which meant that my parents spent their Monday and Tuesday in Smyrna receiving kitchen appliances, watching over electricians and other workers, and putting together Riley's furniture.
Dad also hit us with a new date for moving on our way to the restaurant: Thursday.
This Thursday, February 23rd. A school day. The Thursday that was two nights away.
After my minor heart attack, I called Tanya to accept her offer to rent us a moving truck and asked her to get the people who also packed and unpacked boxes because I didn't want to allow my parents to put their marriage in jeopardy in the name of moving some furniture. (Not all of it. We were leaving behind some decent-looking but bad furniture in order to stage the house for sale.)
My parents did not like my interference but surrendered eventually. Somewhere in the back of their minds, they, too, must've remembered our disastrous last move, and two nights was an insane timeline to work on. They'd been so unconcerned that I'd thought we still had weeks before moving, but it seemed like Emmett had really freaked them out this time.
…
Paparazzi was invited to greet us in front of the restaurant. I didn't know if they knew we'd expected them or if people like Garrett had ways to give hints to the right people to make the paparazzi believe that they were ahead of the game. Either way, we waved and smiled and played our friendly role even if Edward's grip on my hand was close to cutting off my circulation. He didn't smile.
Riley thought it was a big game. He ran up to a big black guy taking photos of us, took hold of the bottom of his shirt, and asked, "Do you like my terra-dacter? Renée bought it for me!"
"Pterodactylus," Edward corrected automatically, looking like a deer in headlights as we walked after Riley and faced the human behind the job.
"A fierce dinosaur," the paparazzi replied, eyes on his screen as he click-click-clicked a whole bunch of photos of Garrett talking to my parents. When they stopped and waited for us, the man clicked a few more photos before he crouched. "Want a photo?"
Still stretching his shirt, Riley nodded. "Yes, please."
I laughed against Edward's arm.
Maybe in the future, if I got intimidated by paparazzi, I'd just walk up to them, straighten my shirt and ask if they liked my pterodactyl. What a mad strategy.
Uachdar was a boujee restaurant with high ceilings, dark interior, ambient lights hidden around massive indoor trees, and food so schmancy my Instagram account shriveled up in fear. To mock me, the place was in Garden Hills, two blocks away from Mike's home, and I couldn't even focus on the drinks menu because I was worried that Mike would arrive at any moment, put his hand on my shoulder and casually greet me.
It didn't happen, but it kept me alert, and I would've been lying if I didn't fantasize the face Edward would've made at the informal greeting of Mike Newton.
The restaurant wasn't equipped to handle children but I had a feeling Garrett had had a word with someone to make them act as if nit-picky children frequented the place all the time.
The seven-course menu provided the perfect amount of food for a pet mouse. They introduced each course like the queen should've been licking her plate next to us and yet I didn't recognize any of the words they used. Was it meat? Vegetables? Veal with jam? Fancy foreign words that described tractor parts? The world may never know.
Mom was having the time of her life but pretended she didn't care (because dad couldn't afford places like this) while dad made eye contact with me and cough-laughed into his fist. Had it been just our family, he would've mocked the restaurant to oblivion. Instead, dad scooted closer to Riley and helped the boy figure out which mysterious piece of beautifully arranged artwork was edible to him. Poor thing.
Or poor things. Edward emptied his plate in a single bite every course before he looked around, hilariously ravenous. I gave him every course I hated but it wasn't enough.
But it wasn't all bad. We got to know each other better. For all his audacity and presumptuous self-confidence, Garrett was a good storyteller. He was a good person at heart (or as good as anyone with his level of wealth could've been). He told us about filming in frigid Greenland trying to avoid polar bears, his near-deadly stunt in Ignominious that made him reconsider having a stunt double, and what it was like to work with nut-job directors. I tried not to be in too much awe and not to ask too many questions around my parents because while Garrett would never replace them… he had a wealth of experience I wanted to hear everything about.
Worst and best actors to work with, most challenging scenes, best stories about actors, which actors were radically different from their public personas, how he'd found voice acting, what techniques he used, how easy he found crying or screaming or stunts, best and worst acting advice he'd been given… I had an infinite repository of questions within me that I told myself I'd ask some other time, when mom and dad didn't have to witness my absolute thirst for his acting world.
My parents shared embarrassing stories of my childhood and how they only took me to an audition to shut me up about acting and yet had to go through with it when I got the role. They told him about my ice queen past, all the shenanigans dad and I got into, and our secret language on set. When Edward slipped to the bathroom, Garrett chose the opportunity to ask if he could accompany me to the studio next week to hear my voice acting. My parents and I agreed.
Edward returned to the table to find dad gushing about Edward's olympiads, chess competitions, World Youth Chess Championship win and acceptance to MIT. Dad knew specific dates when Edward would hear back from scholarships or when his next competitions were expected to be held, and you'd think dad had adopted Edward from how proud he was of him.
Edward didn't get misty-eyed. He wasn't the type to blush. But the vulnerable, taken-aback look he gave my dad, self-conscious and infinitely touched, I could've cried. Garrett, clearly impressed (and who wouldn't be?) asked all the right questions before Edward talked about his interest in aerospace engineering, and Garrett casually told him that he'd cover Edward's tuition if the scholarships didn't work out.
Edward declined in a daze, as I knew he would, but a table-ful of people beaming with pride over his accomplishments had touched him. I took his hand under the table. He squeezed it.
I also learned from my parents and Edward that, since Riley's parents weren't married, all paperwork regarding his aunt's death (if it happened) would legally fall on him, which was a sobering thought. Luckily, that didn't seem likely as Edward's aunt was predicted to get out of the hospital by the end of the week, but that only meant she'd go straight to a holding cell until bail. Riley's father Jesse had been thrilled to see his son after so long and took great care to try to form a relationship with my parents. Knowing that their visits stopped when Riley's mom fell down the rabbit hole, he'd been worried. He was relieved to hear that Riley had a stable home, and took my dad's number to call Riley whenever he was allowed.
With all the crazy stuff happening in Riley's life, I was glad his father loved him.
Riley amazed us with his good behavior but it only lasted until we'd said our goodbyes to Garrett and sat into the car. Dad produced a new dinosaur book from mom's handbag that stunned Riley's tears away, mom started the car, Edward rolled his seat backwards to make room for his legs, reaching his hand behind and apologizing, and I suddenly felt emotional over my odd little family stuffed into a decade-old Chevrolet after having the world's fanciest dinner with a world-famous actor.
"Can we drive through a burger joint?" I asked, fastening my seat belt. "I'm starving."
Dad laughed so hard it made Riley giggle, mom shook her head as she clicked the turn signal on, and Edward kissed my palm and looked at me with the most grateful eyes.
"Double fries for Edward."
A grin covered his face before he stretched and took out his phone, no doubt about to check the balance on his bank account.
"You're still not paying for shit, Edward," mom said, glancing at him. "Accept it and move on."
…
My parents conveniently forgot to (deliberately didn't) tell us that mom and I were going to spend two nights in a hotel to avoid having to lose paparazzi on busy mornings when I had to be on set. Neither of my parents wanted to play around with my NDA again, and I might've thrown all the fits for not getting to spend my nights with Edward had their hands not been full of Riley already.
So, with a heavy resigned heart, I packed an old suitcase full of clothes and all the hygiene products I wasn't comfortable leaving for random movers. I took two of Edward's hoodies in addition to his ruined green one.
I said my goodbyes to dad and Riley before hugging Edward on the porch. He'd been such a trooper through everything, and I snuggled closer to sniff his scent and press a kiss against his chest.
"I'll miss you."
Edward's arms tightened around me. "I'll miss you so fucking much. You've no clue."
"Oh dear sweet holy mother of God, you guys will see each other in two days," Emmett said, aghast, rushing past us to his truck. "Two days!"
"Two nights, too," Edward muttered in my ear, sliding his hand across my back in a way that made me want to be back already for the world's quietest, sneakiest sex.
…
It wouldn't have mattered if I'd stayed at home because being sixteen gave me the newfound power of being allowed to spend 12 hours on set (until midnight on a school night), 8 of them working, and oh boy did Tanya make sure all the hours were squeezed out of me. There was nothing malicious about it, either. They just needed me today and I did my best to deliver.
But filming the next season had work, school and life balance struggles written all over it.
Not only that, but mom had a live interpretation event from two to five PM, which meant that, in the absence of appropriate paperwork for Emmett to be my "representative", dad had to replace mom and ask Edward to handle Riley.
I sent him an apology, but he didn't seem to think much of it, having taken care of Riley for so long. Still, I felt bad.
As if summoned by my weekend words to Edward, I had to spend my day sweating in a green latex suit next to Mike who got to wear his regular fantasy-world warrior clothes. I spent half the day in the pool or getting hit by gunk, and it was easier for our team to hose me down in latex and CGI my costume in later than to ruin a dozen costumes.
But with all its moldable, flexible, water-proof qualities, latex wasn't breathable. When I wasn't in water, I struggled with heat, and the fact that my latex suit was covered by the proper, non-shiny green suit made of spandex didn't help.
Dad brought a fan near me during a break. I hoped nobody else needed it as I sat right in front of it.
"Do you think it washes off?" I asked dad.
Dad paused the video on his phone. "What washes off?"
"Latex."
He looked at me like I was stupid. "Latex doesn't stick, honey. That's kind of the point."
"I know, but Edward's allergic."
People carrying equipment, Tanya talking to Vince, our second second AD Timothy, Mike passing by, and most of all, dad, all paused for a fraction of a second, silent, staring at me.
My heart skipped a beat when I realized what I'd accidentally admitted.
"TMI." Mike said, grinning and shaking his head before he disappeared around a corner. Tanya's gaze lingered on me but, thankfully, she returned to Vince, and Timothy simply pretended he'd heard nothing.
Dad sat, frozen, staring at me with the same blank expression before he locked his phone and sat one seat closer to be next to me.
"I didn't mean—" I started, but it would've been a lie. "Dad…"
He ran his palm over his bald head, giving me a weak smile. "I suppose there's no use thinking you found out playing with balloons?"
I laughed. I couldn't help it.
"If it makes you feel better."
Dad rested his elbows on his knees and turned his head, assessing me with bittersweet eyes.
"Dad, please don't—" I lowered my voice, pleading, "Don't be the overprotective father who shits on the boyfriend. Please. It was my decision. I don't like feeling like I'm not allowed to make decisions about my own body even if you disagree with my timeline."
He inhaled the slowest breath through his nose and let it out again. "Your mother told me something similar."
"Really?"
"Really," dad repeated softly, still observing me with uncanny attention. He startled. "Wait, does that mean you spent the night in the ER?"
"No!" I nearly yelled, immediately decreasing my volume. "He knew from—before, from going to the dentist. They make condoms from other materials nowadays."
I didn't tell him we didn't use said condoms.
Dad pursed his lips, searching my eyes. "And he doesn't push you?"
"Never," I replied without hesitating. "You've met him, dad. He may look all horns and piercings but he's the sweetest. You know he is. Please don't intimidate him or scare him or whatever. He doesn't deserve that."
The world had somehow gotten the impression that teenage girls only had sex because guys forced them into it, which was sometimes true but totally ignored that teenage girls, too, could have an insane sex drive. It was probably why Edward had been so surprised that I was up for silent, sneaky sex at night—he'd thought that now that we'd had sex, I'd need time to adjust, which wasn't the case at all. I wanted to. I couldn't get enough.
And we were scary good at sneaky sex. Two teenagers who grew up in single-wide trailers with paper thin walls? Yeah, we mastered the art. The only trouble I had with all the silence was that I absolutely adored it when Edward whispered and groaned and hummed into my ear, and he felt the same. But doing it in silence was better than skipping it, and sex wasn't even always our end goal but once the clothes came off, he was impossible to resist.
"I know. It's not even about the—" Dad scratched his beard, pulling me out of my reverie. "You're just growing up so fast. I'm not ready to let you go yet. I'm scared to blink because you might move out during it."
I got up and hugged dad. "I know. But remember, you can't get rid of me before you've taught me how to cook, and what's that going to take, another four years?"
Dad laughed.
"Back to one!" our first AD Steve yelled, with a team of assistants rushing toward the pool.
"I love you, honey." Dad kissed my temple before he released me. "Now prove them you're worth all the world-class underwater CGI effects."
"No pressure, huh."
…
Thankfully, after eating a quick sandwich, mom and I got back to our hotel in Buckhead Village just after nine PM. Our clean, industrial chic twin room had a beautiful view of the city lights, and I missed Edward and our gang but I kind of loved getting some alone time with mom, too. It had been a while.
Having finished my evening routine, I pulled out Edward's three hoodies from my suitcase and dumped them on my bed. Mom, sitting against the headboard and typing, paused her audio and took out an earbud.
"I know you're busy but could you show me how to sew?" I asked in my flawed Vietnamese.
Mom set aside her laptop, joined me on my bed, and touched Edward's burnt hoodie. "I hate to break it to you but no amount of sewing will fix that."
I smiled. "I know. But it's the last hoodie Edward's mom gave him, and I hate that I ruined it. I want to cut out little squares of it from where the cloth is still unharmed, maybe a square inch or so, and sew a piece on each of his hoodies. Left sleeves, I think. That way he'll always have a piece of his mom's hoodie on his other ones. What do you think?"
Mom gave me a surprisingly emotional smile. "Oh, honey."
She helped me start a sturdy and tight (if wonky) stitching line that attached a square on the hoodie, and when she took the other one to make my progress quicker, I watched her in silence.
"Dad found out today that Edward and I had sex."
Unlike dad, mom only stifled her smile. "I know, honey. The way you were around each other after your little trip… I figured. Is everything okay?"
"Everything's perfect."
Mom looked up from her stitching. "If you have any questions or concerns, always come to me. Nothing is too silly or embarrassing if it's bothering you."
"I know." I stretched my legs before I decided to sprawl the side of my bed, leaving her some space. I gave studious attention to my stitching. "It's a little bit… eye-opening."
"What is?"
"It's like… everyone in high school is kind of obsessed with everyone's status of whether or not they're a virgin. I understand this obsession much more now. Not because—I mean also of course because of what it's like, but more because… sex is a lot like money. The people who don't have any are most obsessed with it. To those who have it, it's not an issue."
Mom stopped stitching, shaking her head, watching me. Her voice was soft. "You are much too mature for your age. We should've given you more opportunities to rebel."
"Are you saying I can break all the rules now? 'cause I'd love to have a motorcycle."
"In your dreams, honey."
I grinned. Mom and I spent the evening stitching, laughing, and sharing all the smaller and bigger stories we hadn't had time to talk about. It was lovely and all the more precious because I wasn't sure how many nights like this mom and I had left.
…
Thursday flew by in Alex's Studio. We texted and called dad and the movers between my recordings, and when Uber dropped us off at our new home in Smyrna, we arrived to an entrance full of boxes, bags and the better pieces of our furniture. They were arranged in groups based on which rooms they came from, and when a shorter black man rushed downstairs and talked with the speed of Gilmore Girls on steroids, it took mom and I a moment to understand that the two movers were happy to unpack but, in most rooms, they had nowhere to unpack to. So, we instructed them to take our stuff to the correct rooms without unpacking (with the exception of kitchen).
We tipped the movers handsomely after they left.
And just like that, we'd moved to Smyrna.
Emmett's fear had worked wonders on the kitchen. Our new appliances were plugged in and the walls behind counters were intact. Backsplash was missing and the walls hadn't been painted, but mom assured me that everything was in working order. She searched for towels and soap and toilet paper while I packed my backpack with tomorrow's school materials and sent Alice a photo of my new room.
She heart-eyed it and demanded our new address.
It felt new and exciting and I didn't know what to do with myself.
When Edward, dad and Riley arrived, we ate shawarma on the living room carpet, discussing what to prioritize next before I announced that I'd left my driving license in a crack on my windowsill in our old home. Believing this to be exactly the kind of stupid thing I'd do, my parents sighed and waved Edward and I off as they began to unpack Riley's stuff with the boy.
It was drizzling. A new 'FOR SALE' sign greeted us on our beige lawn. Paparazzi didn't show their faces but Edward still pushed his bike behind the house, just in case. I locked the door behind us before we took off our shoes, dropped our backpacks, and adjusted to the strange echo-y emptiness of our old house. Only the living room rug, a few dressers and curtains, the dining table, and my parent's bed with its best sheets had been left behind, all to help stage the house for buyers.
Edward walked straight to the window sill in my room, inspecting every nook and cranny and chipped paint on it before he turned to me.
"I don't see it. Was it in some other room?"
I smiled and stepped closer to him. He wore gray ripped jeans and the navy-black-and-white hoodie that emphasized his wide shoulders and lean body. He frowned, eyes searching mine.
"Bella?"
"I lied," I admitted. "My license is in my wallet. I just wanted to use this empty house opportunity to get you alone."
Edward's lips parted.
"Not if you don't want to," I backtracked, feeling self-conscious. "Sorry if—"
He lifted me into his arms, pressed me against the wall and squeezed my butt as I gasped into his mouth. I locked my feet behind him. Soft lips brushed against mine and dazed, beautiful eyes lingered on my face.
"Have I told you how much I love you?"
I grinned. "I like to be reminded."
"Jesus fuck," Edward cursed against my ear, holding me tight. His low, rough voice sent a needy wave through me. "I missed you. Missed you, missed you, missed you, but you are way, way too good at lying. I thought you'd lost your permit before even getting the chance to exchange it for the Provisional License!"
"Occupational hazard," I replied before I kissed his neck. "But it worked."
The raw look in his eyes made my stomach flip with anticipation, and I melted into his heated kiss. "Baby, we don't have a bed."
"My parents left theirs."
"We can't get it dirty."
"I brought towels… and, all our materials for tomorrow, in case we, you know."
Edward jerked back his head, his gaze vulnerable and heated and incredibly tender. He touched his nose against mine and shut his eyes. "One day, I will—"
My heart skipped a beat but he left his sentence unfinished.
"One day?" I asked, feeling like we were touching a heavy topic, but Edward scoffed and kissed me, smiling as he lowered me back on the floor.
Feeling giddy with freedom, we turned on the security alarm, shut the curtains of my parent's bedroom, and undressed each other in the darkness of the evening. It felt forbidden, somehow, getting naked with Edward in an empty house. I smiled when he turned on the bedside light to see me.
"I feel like we're breaking the law," Edward whispered into my ear, hugging me from behind. My hair stood on ends where his breath touched my skin.
"I know." I rubbed his back behind me, turning my head. "Would you mind trying… from behind?"
Edward's growl-y, "Would I," sent a jolt of neediness through me, and his breath on neck was nearly as intoxicating as his cock and his fingers. It was the first time for us to come together. We fell on the bed, Edward on top of my back, sweaty and grinning. Noticing the still-folded towels in the corner of the bed, I pulled them under us before we lay on our sides. Edward didn't pull out as he spooned me and pressed little kisses on my upper back.
"I made you come," Edward whispered, clearly smiling.
"You've made me come before."
"Not during. Not with me. Fuck that was hot." Edward's cock stirred inside me. "I can't wait to do that again."
He complained when I pulled myself off of him, but, eager to touch him, I only nudged him on his back and straddled him. Edward gazed at me with an absent-minded smile, like I was something to memorize, touching and groaning and pulling me closer, and we had two more rounds of eager inexperienced sex before we took a shower and put on the pajamas I'd packed. We texted my parents to let them know we'd spend the night, explaining all the security we'd set up to put their minds at ease, and I dearly hoped mom had meant her rebellion comment because I just wanted one night with Edward, alone.
It was nearly eleven PM when our homework was done and I remembered to pull out one of his hoodies from my bag, the maroon one with a chessboard. Biting my nails, I anxiously gave it to him.
Edward set the hoodie on the floor. "Thanks but I'm not cold."
"No!" I laughed, crawling over him to get it back. "I did something and wanted to see if you'd like it."
Confused, Edward unfolded the piece before he saw the little green patch on the left forearm and grinned. "You ruined it already?"
"No!" I repeated, tearing it from his hands and rubbing the square. "This is a piece of the hoodie I burnt, the last one your mom gave you. I stitched it on this one and on another one, so that you'd always have a piece of your mom's hoodie with you. I wanted to do it with all of them but it's easy to remove if you don't like it." I touched his hand, hesitating. "Do you?"
Edward crushed me into his chest.
"Feather-heart," he rumbled, brushing hair from my neck and squeezing me tight. "I'm going to have to keep you out of rain, baby. You're so sweet there's just no way you're not half-sugar."
I laughed in relief. "You like it? The lines are wonky but I'll get better."
"I love it. It's the most thoughtful thing. It'll be the new fashion before you know it."
He pulled back, cupped my neck and kissed me on my eyebrow, my nose, and my lips. "Thank you."
I beamed.
Edward turned off the light. He lifted his thigh on my hips and squished me against him, drawing little patterns on my stomach. I felt on top of the world.
"Hey, did my dad talk to you yesterday?"
Edward's sharp exhale hit my temple. "He did."
I tensed up. "Oh shit. I thought he wouldn't. Was he mean? Did he warn you? Threaten you? Anything?"
"Not at all," Edward replied, rubbing my side. "Relax, baby. He said he'd always wanted to be the overprotective dad but reconsidered after your mom and you both mentioned how much it makes you feel like you don't get to decide things about your own body."
"Was it awkward?"
"Could've been worse." Edward grinned against my cheek. "He didn't ask anything. But he does think that you're the most special girl who ever lived and if I fuck this up then I'm a first-grade moron."
I laughed. "I'm sorry! He's biased."
"I don't disagree with him," Edward said in a teasing voice, rubbing my stomach before his thumb brushed against the underside of my boob. I smiled against his mouth when his cock throbbed against my hip.
"Baby, aren't you sore?" he asked, refusing to lift his arms to pull off his T-shirt.
"A bit, but we have more lube, and—" I bit his earlobe, squishing my boobs against him. "I want to."
We finished another sweaty, delicious round of carefully-staying-on-top-of-towels sex. I bathed in his warmth and the messy intimacy of the aftermath, trailing lines on his hairy forearms and kissing his shoulder. Edward purred at my touch.
"I'd like to take you somewhere tomorrow," I told him, casually bringing up the NDA I hoped he would sign. Nerves and anxiety overpowered any level of excitement I might've otherwise felt.
"You get me the sweetest hoodies and you're taking me somewhere tomorrow?" Edward replied, voice groggy with sleep. "What's the occasion?"
I didn't want to tell him that tomorrow's excursion would be far from romantic, and it was my greatest fear that he took one look at the NDA and bolt.
"But are you free after school?"
"All yours, baby," he whispered, squeezing me close and kissing my hair before he drifted off.
…
"Wake up." Edward shook me, his voice raw with sleep and a bit of panic. "Wake up, baby. We slept in. We're late for school."
"Shit."
Groggy and naked, I sat up. I beat my stupid phone against the side of the bed to turn it on. In my rush to get dressed, I tugged out a scarf from my bag I hadn't worn yesterday to feel less like taking a walk of shame in the same clothes until I realized—I hadn't been at school yesterday. The other students hadn't seen my clothes.
Oh thank God. I did not need a photographed walk of shame right now.
At the speed of light, we used the bathroom, locked the front door, and pushed Edward's bike out from behind the house. Luck was on our side—the 'FOR SALE' sign had scared off the paparazzi.
"Your parents have called a few times," Edward said. "Probably to wake us up. Let's call them back at school."
Gas, key, choke—I proudly recognized the order of his movements as Edward turned the bike on. I hopped on behind him before we rushed to school in the chilly, cloudy morning, head full of sleep. I slid my hand in Edward's pocket to check the time—we had five minutes until our first class and seven minutes to get there. I found it thrilling, racing to school like this, but Edward clearly hated being late enough to drive over the speed limit. Luckily he knew where the cops lived, so we avoided speeding on critical roads.
Pulling into the parking lot, I was happy to see that we weren't as late as I'd thought. Plenty of students lingered in front of the school, but my stomach dropped when I removed my helmet and got a clearer view of the commotion.
Shiny cars, cameras, microphones. Strangers waiting, students chatting: cheery, excited.
Too cheery, too excited. Elated, holding their phones up high, searching for someone.
"—right there, on that red bike, with her boyfriend! That's her! The one in the dark red pants!"
Immediately followed by, "Nala!"
"Bahati!"
"Bella!"
The rush of screaming sounded like an out-of-tune chant as people ran over the lawn directly toward us.
"A word, Bahati! I just want a word!"
"Over here! Look here!"
Edward sat like a statue, holding his helmet, staring at the crowd closing in on us. As if in slow motion, he turned his head, locking eyes with me. Awe, anger, fear—all morphed into an expression of utter perplexity before he eyed my hand in his, squeezing so tight I'd lost feeling in my hand.
"Edward," I whispered with a hint of panic.
Clenching his jaw, he jammed his helmet back on his head almost as quickly as he kick-started the motorcycle. My heartbeat echoed louder in my ears than the roar of the motorcycle.
"Hold on!" he shouted, running over the lawn in an illegal move before we disappeared between the subdivisions, exceeding the speed limit. Adrenaline pumped in my veins.
Holy shit. It had happened.
Underground Memories had leaked.
…