Chapter Eleven

Please

I've been on my knees

Change the prophecy

Don't want money

Just someone who wants my company

~ Taylor Swift, The Prophecy

BPOV

Ever since I was little, I wanted a partner. I hated being alone, no matter the circumstances. I wanted a partner in every single school project I had ever done and I wanted a reading buddy to sit by my side, even in silence, and I wanted someone to listen to me complain about my job but also know I loved it too much to ever quit.

I knew it was a lot to ask, so I spent my life living in fairy tales and stringing together beautiful words that I hoped one day someone would say to me, while still knowing my life would be too much for anyone else to willingly take on. I knew the odds were so heavily stacked against me that I would end up old and alone with a discography of pretty words no one ever thought about me.

But then I sat on that table, legs crossed underneath me, and watched as Edward carefully planned out months. Week after week he went through schedules and commitments and tried. And even though I had that knot in my gut, that black hole of panic that liked to flood my veins and paralyze me and keep me from ever enjoying life on the off chance that the enjoyment was torn away, I smiled as I watched him.

He had absurdly pretty handwriting. He used acronyms for teams that went right over my head for his schedule and asked me what half of mine meant, too. We did both have our stadium names down pat. He called me princess and shook his head in silent disbelief when I offered him the use of my jet whenever he needed. He pulled dry erase marker caps off with his teeth and focused so hard on working through the tangle of our two schedules that he didn't notice he was killing me slowly.

He planned out the next six months. Only stopping after he would be done with the season, assuming they made it to the Super Bowl, because then his schedule would be free until the end of July.

Two weeks. It was the longest time between visits he had planned, and he still frowned at the offending time as he stood back from the makeshift calendar.

My mind was flooded with all of the things I hated about myself. There was a never ending list because the public liked to constantly remind me of all of them on a daily basis. Jake liked to throw some of them in my face from time to time. The few men I had dated in the last few years were never around long enough for me to care what they truly thought of me.

"I'm a bit clingy," I blurted out.

Edward spun around, eyes wide on me as if he forgot I was sitting behind him as he planned out the next six months of our lives. "I–"

"Let me finish. I'm clingy. Easily excitable. Shit, not like–I get excited. About little things. I wrote your number on my wrist for your game and it made me stupidly happy. I like wearing Seahawks merch now because it makes me think of you. I have never once cared about the outcome of a football game until this weekend. Everywhere I go paparazzi follow. I sometimes wake up from nightmares of the sound of cameras clicking. Everything I say, everything I do is scrutinized by people across the internet. Every day I'm followed around by no less than two men better trained than most secret service agents. I'm a lot to handle, and I know it. It's hard, even for me, sometimes. To differentiate between myself and my job. Being associated with me is a lot to handle and I can't control a lot of it, no matter how hard I try.

"But you…you're kind of checking off every single box on this mental list I try not to think about. One for the perfect partner, one I've been looking for my whole life. I know I probably don't look as good on paper to you but–"

"How do you know that?"

"What?"

"How do you know I don't have a list? The perfect woman I've been looking for? I told you I wasn't interested in one-night stands or flings. What makes you think my standards aren't set to the fucking roof and you still shatter it?"

He was so sincere. Looked at me with sparkling emerald eyes and I knew I was screwed. If he broke up with me in the next two minutes I would be shattered. If he broke up with me two months from now I'd be heartbroken.

I might as well enjoy the ride.

I stumbled off of the table and he caught me around my waist. Pulling me into his chest and leaning down far enough for me to stretch myself up for a kiss.

His fingers tensed on my back as he hesitantly pulled away, lips brushing against my ear as he spoke. "I know the risks, princess. You're worth them all. Trust me."

I wasn't. But I was done trying to tell him that.

— How You Get The Girl—

My eyes closed as I leaned my head back underneath the spray of the shower, rinsing out the shampoo Edward kept in the corner that smelled like his unique combination of amber and forests. The last three days were spectacular. And I was done doubting it, done waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Warm, calloused hands wrapped around my waist from behind a moment before I was pulled against his chest.

"I actually have to shower," I murmured reluctantly. I had already pushed my flight back a few hours. I'd regret it in the morning, but not just yet.

Edward hummed against my shoulder, peppering kisses up my neck and pulling me tighter against his chest. His hands traveled up my abdomen, shamelessly covering both of my breasts with his palms.

My head fell back against his shoulder.

The man was shameless. Insatiable. Never seemed to tire. And had this way of saying the dirtiest things I had ever heard and making me crave them.

I was no stranger to sex. Enjoyed it as much as the next woman. But I'd also had to fake my share of orgasms over the years. I spent more than a few international flights buried in a romance book assuming that those toe curling and soul consuming kind of moments were always works of fiction.

Then Edward Cullen bent me over his bed and whispered in my ear how pretty he thought I'd look with his come dripping down my face and I was done for.

It hadn't happened yet. The face thing. But I found myself entirely too excited about it.

He turned me around, smirking down at me as if he knew exactly what I was thinking, before lifting me up by my thighs and pressing me into the cool shower tile.

I buried my face in his shoulder with a whimper and a barely whispered please.

It didn't matter that I was exhausted or sore or late, one look at the man and I wanted him. Desperately.

My mouth fell open against his neck as he slid himself inside of me completely. My arms wrapped securely around his neck, nails digging into his shoulders as he took me.

"All mine, princess," he groaned, hands tightening on my thighs.

"Yours," I gasped out.

"Any time you start to let that pretty little mind of yours play tricks on you this week, you think of this. How good your pussy wraps around my cock. How perfectly your tits fit in my hands. How delicious you'll look with my come dripping down your chin next time I get you alone."

I whimpered.

He smirked.

"You're an open book, princess. Everything you think is written in those big brown eyes. You might be looking forward to me fucking your face more than I am."

I came with a gasp against his shoulder, burying myself into his warm, wet skin as he cursed out his own release.

— How You Get The Girl—

Edward leaned with both arms braced on the top of the car, hair wet and wild and face blatantly giving away what we spent a majority of our day doing. I didn't care as he leaned down into the car and pressed his lips to mine.

"Text me when you get home."

"Okay."

"I'll see you Saturday night."

Sam cleared his throat.

I sighed. "Saturday night."

He had a game in Boston next week. Against… someone. I really needed to brush up on my NFL team trivia. Seth would get a kick out of me trying to sort through all of that.

It was only three full days. Three days I would be completely booked and busy enough I wouldn't technically have time to miss him. Except I would. Miss the crooked smiles and the unmanageable hair and the princesses.

My head fell back against the car seat as Sam drove us away and I realized I was completely and irrevocably in love with Edward Cullen.

— How You Get The Girl—

I spent a majority of the flight napping, only bothering to wake up about twenty minutes before we landed to attempt to make myself somewhat presentable. I had a day full of meetings, which were my least favorite kind of days.

I loved my job. Writing music and performing were what kept me –mostly– sane on a daily basis. The business side of the job was another story. One I liked to separate myself from as much as possible, even though it wasn't often an achievable goal.

Whether I liked it or not, I was a business. My name, my image, all a business for people, myself included, to profit off of. Which meant I spent far too much of my time sitting in board rooms with people trying to tell me what to do.

I did it for a long time, everything they told me. I put a smile on my face and performed and played my part, and I was still happy to do that today. To an extent.

I had learned a lot on the Eras Tour. Learned from a woman who was the best at what she did, but also didn't take shit from anyone else.

People made fun of me when it was announced I was opening for her. When I didn't tour I Bet You Think About Me on its own and instead had an hour long opening set for a year and a half.

But it was the best decision I'd ever made.

I had a new outlook on my life, career wise. I realized I had been constantly holding myself back because winning anything meant coming home to a grumpy fiance and after that fiance turned into an ex-fiance winning meant coming home to an empty house.

Now it was different.

If I was destined to be alone, at least I could be surrounded by shiny awards.

I pulled out my phone to let Edward know I landed safely, and the thought that maybe, just maybe, I might not have to spend my entire life alone made me smile.

The room was filled with familiar faces when I walked into the bland board room; Carmen and Angela and Jessica, a few other people on the marketing team and a representative from my new label. There was one woman I didn't recognize, one who frowned at me as I walked in and earned herself a glare from Angela in the process.

She was a small little thing, blonde and wearing a blazer that obviously meant business. She stood from her seat, heels clicking on the floor as she walked over to me and held out a stiff hand. "Jane Lucas. I'm Edward's publicist."

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this one, and I'll see you next time!