A/N: Just a reminder that I did originally write 15 chapters, all both following and skewering from the book. I'll continue fixing them up to post. After that I'm not sure what I'm going to do. It is mostly crack, so try not to take it too seriously. I am making an effort to keep it that way, but it's very hard for me not to start getting all sedate on anything I write. I'm not asking Kim to beta for me, she's going through a lot with the recent passing of her mum. Thinking of you, doll.
My grammar, syntax yada, yada, are not perfect, so don't be an asshole. That person knows who I'm talking about. Please go and make yourself feel relevant somewhere else. If I'm in the mood I will allow asshole anons that I will edit and reply to, but I really cbf lately.
Thank you, Biebs and Melinda, for pre-reading this little piece of one of my insane ADHD brains.
Twilight AF
Chapter 9
"One more question?" I pester Edward as we leave the Italian restaurant. His hand springs out as if he were going to place it against my lower back, but it doesn't quite make contact.
In response, he sighs openly as if I'm the bane of his existence. "One," he relents, reaching up to rub his brow with long, tense fingers. We reach his car and he opens the passenger side door for me, but his expression isn't exactly gracious. He looks flustered. And agro.
"Why thank you." I make a show of it and wink. He sighs a second time, shakes his head lightly to himself and is sitting beside me in the driver's side before I can blink. I almost jump ten feet out of my skin. "Holy shit! How fast can you move?"
"Is that your one more question?" he puts to me dryly, then slotting the key into the ignition, he pulls out in a single motion as effortlessly as he put it into park
I scoff. "Your eyes are yellow, remember?" I point out as if it wasn't obvious, "so stop being so patronizing."
He frowns to himself and then actually offers up some humility. "Sorry," he says in a quiet voice, "I'm risking a lot telling you all this."
"Did I tell anyone before, Clark?" I remind him. The scenery outside is whizzing past us in a blur of neon light and shadow. I hate to think how fast he's driving so I don't.
He rolls his eyes but is forced to concede. "No, you didn't."
"I didn't, so there's no need to be such an assface."
He breaks into a smirk. "Sorry," he echoes a shit ton less sincere this time.
"Liar," I reply, but my smile is pulling in mirror to his and I hate myself.
"So what's your question?" he prompts after a moment of driving in silence. I think we're back on the highway, but I can't be sure. He could be taking me to the middle of nowhere to eat me, but at this point, I'd probably agree to it.
"How does the whole mind reading thing work? Can you all do it? And... what do you see in my mind?" I finish sheepishly, as my face bursts into flames. Then the idea occurs to me that he can probably see my dreams and the reason he watches me sleep is because it's better than Pornhub.
He clears his throat awkwardly and glances out the side window. "That's more than one question."
"You watch me sleep, you pervert!" I say defensively, but it's pure projection. "At least you can do is answer."
He takes a deliberate breath, and then opens his mouth to answer but quickly shuts it again. "I don't watch you sleep," he repeats lowly, his brow heavily knotted.
"You do!" I insist stubbornly. "My whole bedroom smells like you in the mornings."
"What do I smell like?" he turns to me, single brow cocked.
"Window cleaner," I say despite knowing how insane it sounds.
He coughs back his laugh but doesn't offer up a reply.
I switch tactics and call his bluff. "I caught you on camera sneaking through my window."
"Have you?" he says more or less to himself, his smirk reappearing.
"Give it up, Clark. We both know you're busted," I say with a frustrated huff. He's such a patronizing blowhard, it really does grate on my nerves.
"I don't watch you sleep," he reiterates, quickly adding when I open my mouth to challenge him, "you just happen to be asleep."
"...What?"
"I'm not doing anything perverse, I'm... desensitizing myself to your scent." He has the decency to sound ashamed, which is something, I guess.
"And why would...?" The words die on my lips. I know exactly why. This is all about my blood.
"Also..." he adds, but doesn't finish.
"Also...?" I practically whisper. It was one thing to theorize Clark being a vampire, but with the reality now before me and him admitting my blood does shit to him, it's another thing altogether.
I might be about to have a seizure.
"In my family I am the only one who can read minds, but I... can't read yours," he concludes so softly I barely hear him.
"Huh? I mean... why not?" I demand, but what I really want to exclaim is thank fucking god!
I'm so relieved I'm pretty sure my eye starts to twitch, and taking a very discreet breath, I expel it. That's one awkward as fuck conversation I just dodged a bullet on.
"I'm not sure. I have theories, but I think your mind is... wired differently." He doesn't look at me, instead he gazes straight ahead into the blackened night doing some ungodly speed, I don't even know.
"Wired differently," I echo like a dumbass. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He glances at me briefly and shakes his head. "I told you, it's only a theory, but it's like your mind works on a different frequency from mine."
"Huh." I consider it further just as realization dawns on me. "So that's why you asked me what I was thinking. And why you always look at me like it frustrates you."
He flashes me one of his toothy smiles with sarcasm bleeding between the cracks. His fangs are not nearly as long as they should be, either. They're nothing out of the ordinary, actually. "Yes. Among other things..."
"Is there something wrong with me?" I venture, because wouldn't that just be typical.
"No." He laughs flatly, and it's really convincing.
With a slight shake of my head, I let it go. According to my mother, I've always been weird, but moving on. "Are there other people you can't read?"
"Nope, just you," he answers simply, but he can't disguise the fact that it irritates him.
"So... Wait, you're... curious about me," I come to the obvious conclusion pretty affronted. "That's what this is." Wouldn't it just be my luck that the hottest guy of the century is not only a vampire but his only interest in me is my blood and morbid curiosity?
But I mean, surely he can't be into me, into me. Like a regular guy who's only motivation is to get laid before graduation. I might be naïve, but I'm not my mother.
When I glance up, I realize he's glaring at me.
"What?" I quiz.
"Your assumptions about me are always wrong, so why do you keep making them?" he practically growls between clenched teeth.
"Can you stop speaking to me like a psycho?!" I fire back immediately going on the defensive.
He huffs and tears his eyes back to the road. "Sorry," he says sarcastically, straight back in smart ass mode.
"Sorry," I imitate him, immediately making his smirk reappear. "Do you talk to everyone like this?"
"Not always," he says lightly, and then expelling is breath, he releases his white knuckled grip from the steering wheel and rakes his fingers back through his hair. "I am more than simply curious about you," he says darkly, pouting now like I somehow wounded him.
The creepy bastard has more personalities than he does eye color.
"More than the fact that you want to drink my blood and you can't hear my thoughts? I state cynically.
He stiffens, kind of like he did the first day in Bio, but recovers quickly. "So you worked it out," he murmurs, his brow bunching again.
"Told you I would," I say casually. I'm sure he expects me to have a meltdown, but that ship has already sailed, apparently.
"You did," he agrees, speaking to himself again.
I scrutinize him for a moment; he's chewing on the inside of his cheek in thought, and for a moment it stumps me that people this lunatic beautiful actually exist. Of course he catches me, and just when I think he's going to get hostile again and start abusing me, he smiles. It's all warm and charming, and instantly gives me vertigo.
"Stop it!" I snap, hastily covering my fluster.
His smile turns to a grin, and his eyes return to the road. "So, tell me how you came to that conclusion."
"I kinda cheated," I confess after a moment of deliberating whether I should bullshit or not. "I know someone who outed you. Unintentionally, I think."
He glances at me in obvious confusion. "Can you elaborate on that?"
"I thought you were a wendigo," I admit, and before he can burst into laughter, I fill him in on what Jacob told me Saturday at the beach. His expression freezes when I mention the Quileute tribe, but otherwise he gives nothing away.
"So, this story Jacob told you, why did you automatically think of me?"
"I didn't. He came right out and told me your family are vampires and they've lived here in the past." I eye him cautiously, expecting him to get agro again, but he appears lost in thought more than anything. "Then I went home and Googled, but all I found was Brad Pitt."
He breaks into a broad grin and pushes his triple malt whiskey laughter softly through his nose. "How did you feel? When you realized what I am?"
I pause to contemplate it before half shrugging. "It's been a while since you went Batman in front of the school, so the shock of you not being human has worn off. I was relieved more than anything."
I look up and meet his outraged glare head on. "Relieved?" he echoes. He's incredulous, but he's definitely more pissed off than anything.
"Jesus you're uptight!" I declare, deliberately rolling my eyes. "You throw vans around like they're matchsticks, you read minds, you jump into my window and get all pervy on me, and then get pissed off at me when I work it out!"
"I am not pissed off because you worked it out," he speaks through his teeth again. "I'm pissed off because you know what I am, but are 'relieved'." Releasing his hand again from the wheel he uses his first two fingers to quote me.
"Well how did you want me to feel?" I argue back at him.
"Relieved should be the last thing you feel. You're insane," he concludes, scoffing bitterly to himself.
"And you're an asshole!" I burst, scowling at him when he turns to me, a look of surprise on his face this time. "Stop speaking to me like shit!" I tack on, because the guy is just as deficient in social cues as squinty eyes. Either that or the bastard is deliberately gaslighting me.
His expression smooths out and for a moment he looks as though he's going to apologize. He doesn't though. He only continues to brood. "What's wrong with you?" he asks, but judging by his tone, that question was not meant for me.
"I just don't like creepy blowhards who speak down to me!" I grumble, folding my arms stiffly across my chest and tearing my eyes from the beautiful fucker. From my periphery I notice him frown again, and after appearing to debate with himself he apparently decides not to reply. We ride in tense silence for several minutes. That's when I realize how fast he's going. "Holy shit! You're doing over a hundred—slow down!"
He stares at me in confusion again, but how the hell can a vampire be this dense? "This is how I normally drive."
"You're also made of steel. I'm not, so if you wrap your girl car around a street light, I'll end up just as mangled."
He sighs pointedly and eases off the gas until the car slows to just under eighty. "Satisfied?" He's patronizing me again.
"Screw you," I mutter, but I understand Elizabeth Bennett's conundrum now. While the hot, rich guy is a definite turn on, being a condescending dickface isn't.
He glances at me several times, and when I cave and turn toward him, he smiles, pulling out no stops on the charm. "You're mad."
"And you're a dick."
Of course this only increases the length of his amusement. "I really am sorry, Bella." He almost sounds sincere and in turn I stare at him. "What?" His brows raise.
"So... you can't put spells on me?" I ask more as an accusation, but I'm projecting again. I'm not sure I'm ready for the truth. The truth that all this time I've just been getting off over how hot he is.
He smothers his laughter beneath his breath, and it's more than answer enough. "No."
"Well, shit..." I mumble. So, it's true; I am my mother's flesh and blood.
"Is that a bad thing?"
"Yes, it means you're hot and nothing else!"
"Nothing else?" he echoes, his weird eyes looking like they're about to burn out of his skull.
"Nope," I say pouting the same way squinty eyes does.
"That's the entire point," he says softly. So softly I almost miss it.
"Huh?"
"Never mind." He looks pissed off again, and jesus, his moods are making my head spin.
"So, how come..." But with a huff, I abandon it.
"How come...?" he urges me to continue.
"It's lame."
"Just tell me," he says, the tone of his voice lowering. He's irritated again. The creepy fucker has the shortest fuse imaginable.
"How come... the sun doesn't burn you?" I want to cringe away from him, and as expected, he laughs.
"Myth."
"But you hide from it directly," I say slyly, and judging from his reaction, I've hit the bullseye.
His expression darkens, but his frustration is misplaced. Either that, or he's about to get hostile with me again. "In a sense," he concedes, rubbing at his brow for god knows how many times tonight.
"Damn, I'm two for—"
"Fifty," he cuts in caustically.
I tsk to myself, but decide not to react to him. "Do you sleep in coffins?" I tease, as a rueful smile twitches on his lips this time.
"I don't sleep," he answers simply.
"What?" I say blankly. I mean, it explains why he spends his nights in my bedroom getting all second-hand kinky from my dreams, but... "Insomnia?" I speculate.
He shakes his head and chuckles, and the sound of it really is porn to the ears. It's all thick and syrupy. "I just don't require sleep."
"Wow," I say for want of a better response, until I find myself stuck in a cycle of ogling him. He stares back, kind of like he's trying to reach my Dolly-Parton-singing-Jolene-on-the-radio frequency, before his eyes start getting weird again; he breaks the moment before I do.
"You going to ask me what I eat?" he says lowly, clearing his throat.
"Are you going to bite my head off again if I do?" I put to him dubiously, and in turn he grins kind of wryly.
"No. I'm sorry for always... biting your head off." He's actually sincere this time, but I'm not sure I believe him. He's so damn testy.
I turn back to the front of the car and shrug. "Everyone knows what vampires eat, and besides, Jacob confirmed it..." I disclose. I suspect we're about to get onto the subject of him wanting my blood, and I don't want to hear it just yet. Not without a hissy fit anyway.
"And what did Jacob say?" he asks flatly, turning into an asshole in three seconds flat again. His emotions really do flip on a dime. I wonder if it's sexual frustration, because according to Anne Rice that would explain a lot.
"That vampires drink blood," I respond in kind, going full wiseass, "except for your vampire foster family, who apparently drink animal blood."
He doesn't turn to look at me; he only stares ahead deliberating. In the moonlight, he looks like a Greek god, and without thinking, I yank my phone from my purse and hold it up to take his picture. Before I remember it's dead, that is.
He notices and when he meets my eyes, he looks pissed off as fuck, but sort of amused equally. "What are you doing?"
"Taking your photo," I answer candidly.
"Why?"
"I need physical evidence to prove I'm not schizophrenic."
He smiles again and releases a long-winded breath. "Jacob's right."
"Huh?" He catches me off guard again, but he's so unpredictable.
"We feed from animals."
"Oh... Okay." My mood instantly lifts. Maybe he really does want more from me than just my blood.
"That doesn't mean we won't ever feed from humans," he adds as some kind of warning, while refusing to look at me again. He's gone back to brooding. It's sexy as sin, but hurling insults at me usually follows.
I think about holding my breath. "I... So..." I give up; I have no words.
"It's not natural, how we eat. Our first instincts are for human blood, and it's... hard to maintain."
Well, shit, he really does only want my blood.
"Are you going to kill me?" I utter, but I'm bummed as fuck. I mean, of course he is, but I've let all my raunchy dreams whisk me off to a land of fanfiction where hot vampires fuck boring humans instead of eating them.
"I don't know," he answers in a quiet, distracted voice.
I don't reply and he offers nothing else by way of conversation either. He only continues to drive, racing me through the night with his jaw clenching and his eyes glowing.
I'm probably about to die, but I'm horny as hell.
"Can you do me a favour?" I break the silence, clearing the wanton desire from my voice.
He glances at me fleetingly, his expression neutral this time. Gone is all the amusement and agro. He's back to that creepy stillness he's so good at. "What?"
"If you're going to kill me, don't let me die a virgin," I say a little too beseeching and overly needy, and beside me he sort of has an episode in his seat and notably stiffens.
He clears this throat, and then again. "I'm not going to kill you, Bella," he assures me, but his tone is tense and awkward, and I'm positive his ears are turning red. "I can't really. I left two witnesses alive," he adds.
"What?" I utter, he's confusing me and exciting me simultaneously. "Can you stop with the mind games, already?"
He turns to me and smirks before his expression becomes serious. "I don't want to kill you, I'm just not sure if I'm... I'm strong enough to resist," he clarifies.
"To resist... my blood?"
"Yes."
I contemplate it for a moment. "Why my blood?"
I mean, why not my body?
"I'm not sure," he murmurs, speaking to himself again. He really has mastered the broody vampire trope; it's making me restless.
And mute. Turning I stare out into the pitch black, becoming mesmerized by the headlights of his car zooming all over the place.
"Bella...?"
"Yeah?"
He clears his throat, shakes his head and turns his attention back to the road. "Never mind."
We fall back into silence, except it's not uncomfortable at all. I'm in an upheaval and he appears in just as much of a fluster, but it's weirdly calm.
"So... are fangs a myth?" I say lightly, forcing myself to break this weird erotic spell that befell us. I'm still not convinced he doesn't have the ability to put me into a trance.
"It'd be pretty messy eating without them," is all his says, his lips twitching.
"So, you have fangs."
"Yes."
"Show me your teeth?" I angle my head to peer closer.
"No," he sounds irritated for a moment, except his expression is warming with amusement again.
"Do they only come out when you're hungry?" I surmise.
"Something like that." His smirking to himself openly now, and I'm straight back into a stupor of ogling him. This bastard is idiotically beautiful, and all he wants from me is my blood.
Why is my life so shit?
"Did they come out that first day in Bio?" I ask, needing to bite down on my bottom lip in a pitiful effort to gain control of myself. I'm beginning to think I might faint from the amount of oxytocin assaulting me.
He only nods.
"So that explains why you covered your mouth. I thought you had autism," I admit.
He laughs, but half of it is out of confusion. "What?"
"Well, my first guess wasn't that you were a vampire, obviously," I say dryly.
He chuckles, I moan, and he glances at me in alarm. I bullshit and tell him I think I actually might be going into shock. He believes me, thank god. He's kinda naïve that I wonder how old he is. I ask.
"Seventeen," he repeats the same age he did previously.
"Huh," I consider it. "You really do look older."
"I was born in a different time," is all he says in explanation. "Bella..." he says after a moment, his scotch on the rocks voice turning huskier.
"Yeah?" My voice fails.
"I promise."
"...Huh?"
"Your favor," he clarifies, clearing his throat awkwardly again. "I promise."
"Oh..."
Oh!
Holy fuck! Anne Rice was wrong!
I'm fairly certain he's blushing this time, while I'm two seconds from wheezing.
I clear my throat into my palm, and shiver, but I'm not cold. He has his heating turned up way too high. At least I hope he has. Whichever the case, I'm steadily losing the battle on getting on top of shit. I start fidgeting; he notices.
"Are you okay?" His voice has returned to crooner smooth, and oozing with sex and concern.
Are those things supposed to go together?
"I'm fine," I assure him. "Can you tell me more?" I have to keep him talking, or I'm in danger of jumping him.
"What do you want to know?" he asks casually.
"It's obvious you want human blood, you want my blood, so why do you feed from animals?"
"Because the alternative is..." he doesn't finish and he's back to frowning to himself.
"You want to, though," I practically whisper.
"Yes. Animal blood quenches my thirst, but it doesn't quite take away the cravings..."
"And you crave my blood." It's not a question, but he's sort of admitted to wanting my body as well, so I'm fine with it.
I've probably lost my mind, but anyway.
"I do."
"But you just fed," I state, and this time his expression is surprised.
"What makes you say that?"
"I'm not an idiot. When you have black eyes you're more of an asshole because you're hungry. When they're yellow, you're more... chill." For want of another word because he's still an asshole either way most of the time.
"You're an observant one, aren't you?" he says, sounding condescending again.
"Do you honestly think I'm the only one who notices your eyes changing color?" I say drolly.
He chuckles again, and my irritation is gone in a nanosecond. "Take my word for it, no one else notices. People have a habit of seeing only what they want to see."
"Well... true," I'm forced to concede, because he definitely has me there. "Did you go hunting with your middle aged foster brother on the weekend?"
"Yes," he admits, fighting the obvious urge to laugh, before pausing, his forehead quirking as if in sudden doubt. "I didn't want to go but it's not really safe to be around you when I'm so hungry."
"Why didn't you want to go?" I practically breathe, subconsciously leaning toward him.
He notices and inches discreetly back again, but this handsome bastard is most definitely blushing. "I... get anxious when I'm not around you," he fesses up in a mumble, rendering me speechless again.
I almost laugh, out of sheer bewilderment, but I smother it at the last moment. And this guy thinks I'm insane... "What?"
"I was distracted all weekend worrying about you. Emmett told me I was being stupid, but considering what almost happened tonight..." he leaves it unspoken and raises his brows in emphasis.
"Hey, are you forgetting I took one of them down on my own?" I'm staring at his lips now, and he knows it. This can't end well.
"No. I haven't." He says softly, his eyes drifting to my mouth in turn. Then as if pulling himself back from the edge, he snaps himself out of it and turns his gaze back to the road.
"Did you get back today?" I ask, attempting to do the same but not quite pulling it off. I still sound carnal.
"No, Sunday."
"So why weren't you at school?"
"You guessed why."
"You can't go in direct sunlight."
"Correct."
"Why?"
"I'll show you sometime," he promises, his smile genuine and passing all boundaries of sex. He's definitely doing that shit on purpose.
"Deal," I say simply, but nothing is simple. I'm in a car with a vampire who's driving like a lunatic, while I'm wheezing like a rabid raccoon. I can feel my skin burning, and I'm more than aware that he's aware of it.
He keeps moistening his lips, and clenching his jaw as if he's attempting to prevent his fangs from popping out. And the way he's squeezing his fists around the steering wheel... I should be fearful, except it's the opposite.
I want to hate myself, but apparently, that's definitely the last thing I feel.
"Bella...?" he breaks into my hot and bothered state.
"Hmm?"
"What are you thinking?" His voice is all rustically smooth again.
I forget to breathe and start choking. Edward looks alarmed and removes his hand from the steering wheel as if to start whacking me on the back. But he doesn't. He freezes, second-guessing himself.
"I'm fine," I squeak out as he places his hand back against the wheel. "What are you thinking?"
He sighs loudly, but there's something playful about it at the same time. "Not this again."
"You're not allowed to know my mind," I decide. I mean, he must have some clue considering he watches me have erotic dreams about him. No one is this clueless.
"That's not fair."
I half laugh dryly. "My mother sent me to live with my father so she can go on the road with her loser of a boy toy husband. Life's not fair."
I really need to thank her now that I'm thinking about it.
"So that's what happened," he muses. He's driving notably slower now, and that's when I realize where back in Forks.
Fuck. It felt like I was only in the car with him for twenty minutes.
"Ed—"
He pulls to stop in front of Charlie's house, and turns to me with a smile on his lips.
"Oh, we're here," I state the obvious, but I'm bummed out, not gonna lie. Twenty minutes is way too short a time to grill this eerily beautiful bastard, despite the fact that he wants to eat me. "You coming to school tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"Sure? Because if I have to fend off Mike Newton for one more day I'm going to lose my shit and stab him with my pencil."
He breaks into soft laughter and I close my eyes to take in the tenor of it.
Holy mother of fucking...
"I'll be at school, I promise."
"Good," I say satisfied, and turning, I move to open the door.
He immediate stops me. "Hold on a second."
I sigh to myself and turn back to him expectantly. "Gonna interrogate me some more?"
His smile is rueful. "Funny. Just, answer me one thing?"
"Hmm, okay."
"Is... what I am really not bother you?" he asks, and he's serious this time, I realize.
"What you are really doesn't bother me," I answer, shrugging nonchalantly. Except I'm not nonchalant. I'm an exposed nerve of activity, and my arm hair is erect and quivering, and stabbing into his Italian leather jacket I'm still wearing.
His expression almost hardens, but before he can get all sociopathic on me again, he drops his head and starts rubbing at his forehead. "Jesus fucking christ, what am I doing?" he mutters, I think, beneath his breath.
"Why do you keep asking me that? How should I know?"
He sighs and laughs dryly to himself. "Never mind."
"You're really weird." I reach for the door handle, but again, he stops me.
"Why are you always in such a hurry to leave?" He huffs.
"My father's watching," I explain, motioning with my eyes as Charlie's shadow not so conspicuously lingers in front of the window.
"Oh..."
"So you'll have to kiss me next time."
"What?" His reaction is so strong I can only gauge him for a moment.
Is this grossly beautiful fucker... appalled by the idea?
Asshole!
"Ugh, fine!" I mutter, "Bye, Clark." I grab the door handle aggressively but he immediately stops me.
Seriously, this handsome bastard and his mind games.
"It's not that I don't want to—it's just not a good idea that I get that close to you, right now," he hastily explains, leaning closer in emphasis, except he's beginning to look like he's in pain.
Huh. So, that's why the agonized-looking dude always looks like he's about to puke... He just wants to eat everyone, but I mean, it's pretty fucked up that they're testing him out in a high school.
"Why are you always stopping me from leaving?" I imitate him, somehow pulling off flirting.
"You're always trying to escape," he practically growls, making my loins immediately combust.
I'm momentarily dazed, before I shrug myself hastily out of it. "Are you chasing me?" My voice catches just as his smirk tugs broader.
"Just remember, Bella, you can't get away from me," he says, his voice rustically thick.
I'm fairly certain I suffer several mini strokes, and knowing exactly what he's doing to me this beautiful monstrosity scoffs lightly through his nose.
"Shut up!" I utter like a complete lunatic.
"Tell me something about you," he asks taking me by complete surprise again. He's so random it's pretty damn adorable actually, but this guy is as high strung as he is terrifying, and I am definitely not supposed to be as turned on as I am right now.
"Huh?"
"I mean, I don't know anything about you. Except you're sarcastic, you like to say apparently and assface, and you faint at the sight of blood."
"Hmm, well..." I pause and consider it, "I talk in my sleep, but you know all about that, don't you?" Inching forward I place my index finger lightly to his chest. It's cool, hard, but weirdly soft at the same time. I don't pull back; instead, I place my entire palm against his buff as fuck pecs, but at this point, I'm existing solely on impulse, and am two seconds from flinging myself into his arms.
He grabs my hand and removes it, then flushing deeply, he breaks my gaze and looks down. "I do."
"By the way, sneaking into my room? Very pervy and low-key creepy. Next time give me a heads up, okay?" He doesn't release my hand, but I'm more than okay with that. His is large and so lusciously cool it almost feels like it's infecting me. And those long fingers... He could definitely do things to me with them.
"I will," he agrees, his smile inching to the surface again. "You can go now."
"Then let go of my hand." I bring it to his attention, practically laughing to myself when he gets all flustered and immediately drops it. "Here, you better take your jacket back?" I shrug if from my shoulders and hand it to him.
"Keep it."
"My father will grill me over it," I explain.
"Ah..." He takes it, but his eyes don't sever from mine.
I blink awkwardly and hastily cover. "Can you stop doing that? It's weird."
"Doing what?" His voice is melted butter again.
"Staring me into oblivion."
"Was I?"
"Uh..." I shake myself from it and when I again reach for the door handle, he doesn't stop me. "Bye, Edward," I say his name easily this time, making his brows fly northward.
"So she really does know my name..." he snarks to himself.
"I always knew it." I wink over my shoulder. It's bullshit of course, but I'm not about to fess up that I thought his name was Jasper.
"Go inside you're giving me a headache." He's most definitely covering as well.
I salute him playfully and pull myself clumsily from his car. I almost go ass over tit, but get a hold of myself at the last minute.
He mutters to himself, something that sounds suspiciously like "fucking hell, just being upright is deadly for her".
I let it go, because arguing with him is like sex and my father is watching. I stagger half-drunk up the front porch and turn back to him. "See you tomorrow, Clark!" I make a show of it for my father's eavesdropping, and holding up his fingers in the "loser" sign, Edward, revs his engine and pulls off down the road in lightning speed. "You beautiful assface," I murmur, grinning idiotically to myself, and feeling thoroughly spent.
I need a cigarette.
My father eyes me suspiciously as I crash through the front door. I only flash him an unhinged smile and immediately beeline for the stairs.
"How was your night, Bells?" he asks in a tight, cynical voice.
"Fine, Char-Dad," I stammer as his eyes almost bug out of his head. I beat him to the punchline. "I haven't been drinking."
"Who drove you home?"
"Edward Cullen," I reply as his back instantly straightens.
"I thought you said they were weird?" he questions in a gruff voice, folding his arms all parentally across his chest.
"They are, but a good weird. A really good weird."
"I thought you went with the Stanley girl?" he continues to interrogate me.
"I got lost and she ditched me," I completely bullshit, snorting to myself. "I don't think I should be her friend anymore."
"I agree," he says darkly. "And you ran into Edward?"
"I did."
"Why do you look queer?" He cocks his eyebrow but it looks nothing like Edward. He looks like he's about to cuff me.
"I'm tired," I attempt to force my thoughts back into coherency. "He had his heating up too high and he drives like an old woman." I start laughing and I'm positive my father thinks Clark slipped me acid.
I mean, he kind of did in a sense.
"Okay, well get some sleep then." He harrumphs, and turning, he heads back into the living room.
"Okay, good morning, Dad—good night! Shit!"
He clears his throat aggressively, but doesn't reply, and giggling to myself I scale the stairs.
I hate myself.
Except I really don't.
I pass out in the shower. At least I think I do; with my eyes open at least. My father bangs on the bathroom door, snapping me out of it, and when I return to my bedroom a pamphlet on the evils of illicit drugs is sitting on my bed. I almost go into hysterics, and I can't stop myself shaking for the life of me. I think have an orgasm, but again, I have zero idea.
I've definitely lost my mind.
I fall asleep fairly quickly all things considered, and just as I'm on the cusp of the throes of an erotic dream, everything becomes clear.
Three things do, at least.
The first, Clark is a vampire. Second, he really wants to eat me. And third, he promised to take my V-card and I'm holding that beautiful fucker to it.