A/N: I've been writing a lot of Edward and Addie lately, that I've been forgetting to fix up these chapters. Oops. I have 5 more to go. They really are crack more than anything.
Twilight AF
Chapter 10
I'm running late the next morning. I wake up all sweaty, sticky and god only knows what else, with a ravenous case of bed head that makes Clark's sex hair look groomed.
A single glance in the mirror and I realize I'm not going anywhere without a shower.
I'm almost convinced that moronically beautiful fucker did something to me in my sleep. My eyes are wide and manic and my cheeks are flushed a beet red. All's calm south of the border though, so it's comforting to know he's not a total creeper just yet.
I have exactly three minutes max, but my hands are still shaking out of control that I drop the soap several times. Then I slip over on it and crack my head on the shower screen.
I burst into tears and start laughing simultaneously, instead of roaring out a string of obscenities; which would have been my usual M-O.
I've lost my ever loving mind, but then I remember why; Clark is Bram Stroker.
Charlie's left for work by the time I stumble half blind down stairs with soap still in my eyes. I heard the buzz of his electric razor early this morning as it infiltrated my dreams. I thought it was me who was buzzing, but then I can't be sure it wasn't.
I throw on the first thing my hand grabs in the dryer, shove a granola bar in my mouth and haul ass outside, sans jacket. Jessica still has it, I quickly realize, and my guess is she probably burned it. I'll be freezing my tits off all day.
Unless Clark gives me his again.
Outside the air is choked with mist and is icy as fuck. I immediately wrap my arms around myself, full body shudder and slip-slide down the drive, catching myself on the back of John boy's cargo.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, it's cold," I mutter to myself bouncing where I stand as I reach inside my purse for my keys. That's when I catch my reflection in the driver's side mirror. "What?" I exclaim into the empty street, completely mortified. "What is this!?" My hair is static, and the mascara I clumsily applied ten minutes ago is already smudged, making me look like the Bride of Frankenstein. I immediately pause over my own inner musings only to laugh out loud to myself. "Well, isn't that ironic?"
"Isn't what ironic?" a seductive, melted chocolate voice speaks against my earlobe.
Sucking in my breath in fright, I jump ten feet out of my skin.
"Son of a mother fucking—" On impulse, I spin around and lose my footing, falling flush against the creeper's hard chest. He catches me and momentarily wraps his arms around me. "Can you stop sneaking up on me!?" I blurt overly-flustered and completely covering as I gaze up into his glowing banana eyes.
He chuckles all warm and rustic without any of his usual snark, despite the fact that he's tense as fuck as he rights me and puts me back on my feet. "I've been standing here waiting for you for the last ten minutes. Did you seriously not see me?"
"Apparently," I reply in a droll voice, and as his cool arms slip from around me, I involuntarily shiver. It's not from the cold. I have a weird suspicion it's what's left of my sense of danger before it goes into exile. He still wants to eat me after all. "What are you doing here?"
"What does it look like? I've come to give you a lift to school." He half rolls his eyes, and we're straight back to where I prefer it. Extending his arm, he opens the passenger-side door for me. "Think you can get in without killing yourself?"
"You're hilarious, Clark." I elbow him out of the way—he doesn't budge an inch—and pull myself inside the cozy warmth of his car. He closes the door behind me and is sitting next to me in the next instant. "Jesus! Stop being so damn creepy—I'm going to have a heart attack!"
He laughs again, crooner smooth, guns the engine and pulls away from the curb.
I have to admit, his preppy girl car actually gets great speed. He whizzes through the streets, his long fingers resting lightly on the steering wheel like a complete show off.
We ride to school in silence. I'm too preoccupied with ogling him, and Clark has fallen straight back into brooding. Except he's sort of smiling to himself which is creepy as fuck and sexy as sin simultaneously. He's sans jacket as well, and is only wearing a light, knitted sweater.
"No twenty questions today?" he turns to me and asks when he pulls to a stop in the school parking lot. There's something sardonic behind his voice, but again, I prefer when he's being a dick.
"I'm not sure I want to know more," I admit, gulping. It's not because of the topic of conversation. The angle he put his body in caused a crease in the V-neck of his sweater that gave me a clear view down his naked chest.
He chuckles again, and seriously, this shit is getting out of hand.
"You might not be putting spells on me, but your eyes have weird, creepy powers," I insist. It's a fuckton better alternative than the fact that I'm just getting lost in them like an airhead.
"Do they?" he challenges, arching a single brow again, and seriously, how does he do that and not look like he's just had a brain hemorrhage?
"Eyes aren't supposed to glow in the dark," I counter, which only increases the length of his amusement.
"Here, I brought you a jacket. Don't want you getting pneumonia, or anything."
My eyes narrow as they hold his. He just mocked the words I said to him when he went Batman and threw himself in front of what's-his-face's van.
"Do you always have to be such an assface!" I say rhetorically, before taking the jacket from him regardless. I'm not an idiot. Wearing a guy's clothes to school is a sign you've got it on with him, and I'm not passing up the opportunity to rub that shit in Jessica's face. "So, where's the rest of the coven?"
He makes an effort to suppress his laughter this time, but it's infinitely sexier, and this beautiful asshole knows it. "They took Rosalie's car."
"Which one's Rosalie?" I question cynically.
"Claudia Schiffer," he replies ruefully, before his eyes motion to the right of us to where a red convertible sits all shiny and grotesque.
"Is that a Mercedes?" I burst incredulous.
"Cabriolet," he says as if I'm supposed to know what the hell that means.
"Roseanne is a blowhard!"
"Rosalie," he repeats in a monotone.
I shrug a shoulder. "Whatever. If she owns that, why does she ride with you in this preppy little—what is this car again?"
He sighs pointedly. "Volvo, and we like to... blend in."
I laugh. "You're in denial, Clark. You wouldn't blend in at Rivendell."
"Edward," he stresses, expelling his breath. "You're a headache..." A smile is twitching on his lips, contradicting him, and he's staring at me again.
I get caught in it for way too long. "It's really weird the way you stare at me," I say dazed, inching slightly toward him in the hopes that what he really wants to do is kiss me.
He blinks rapidly and immediately turns away. "Come on, headache."
I follow him out of the car and step in line with him when he waits for me. People are still milling around in the parking lot, so it's obvious the first bell still hasn't rang. We're no longer late thanks to his lead foot.
"So, if you're trying to blend in"—I quote with my fingers, scoffing out how ridiculous it is—"why did Rosemary bring that thing to school?"
I mean, other than to show off, because that car screams "look at me, bitches".
"I didn't give her a choice. I left without them this morning," he explains, smirking subtly to himself.
"I hope she's not going to take it out on me. She's a sociopath!" I state, and of course he only laughs.
"You're not wrong," I think I hear him reply, but I can't be sure. He mumbles to himself a lot.
We head toward the entrance and the maze of covered walkways between the buildings with half the school staring ashamedly at the resident demigod hanging with my vanilla ass. I mean, I get it, but jesus!
Beside me, Clark is beginning to scowl. I'm guessing he can hear what people are thinking about the two of us, but the guy sure does know how to pull off intimidation. People around us are scattering like roaches as if he's about to pull out a shotgun.
"They don't know that you know what they're thinking," I attempt to insert reason. "You look like a psycho."
He gazes down at me, but the hostility on his face doesn't fade. "Terribly sorry for giving a shit," he mutters, but to himself or to me, I have no idea.
He gives a shit?
I start to wheeze. I think I might be psychosomatic.
Jessica's sourpuss ass quickly distracts me from it, though. She's standing close to the entrance of the cafeteria, my jacket under her arm, openly pouting to herself.
"Hey, Jessica!" I announce with deliberate over the top cheer. "Oh, you brought my jacket!"
Clark smothers what sounds like a snort as Jessica hands it to me without a word.
"Hey, Jessica," he greets her simply, but of course, nothing that comes out of his mouth will ever not sound like unmitigated phone sex, and by the way Jessica's reacting, his eyes are casting spells on her as well.
I don't care what he says, they have powers.
Her jaw drops, and for a moment she looks dazed. "Er... hi," she mumbles, obviously trying to pull her shit together before her eyes dart back to mine and narrow. "I guess I'll see you in Trig." It sounds like a warning, and this time it's me who's forced to bite back my reaction. She wants details, and I'm fully prepared to embellish on them.
"Sure. See you then." I wink, making the scowl return to her face before she turns and stomps away; glancing over her shoulder a couple of times in the process.
"What are you going to tell her?" Clark murmurs, sounding lost in his thoughts.
"Huh?" Can that fucker read my thoughts or not?
"She's going to ambush you the second she sees you in class," he elaborates.
"No shit," I say with a smirk, and removing his old man jacket, I hand it to him and put on mine.
"So, what are you going to tell her?" he repeats, and when I peer up at him I realize he's more than a little eager.
"That we had a long night of drugs and sex," I tease as he turns five shades paler. I mean, if that were even possible.
"Can you be serious," he mutters, dragging a hand back through his already wanton-looking hair.
I only chuckle as Clark walks me to my first class without saying a word. I think he might be annoyed at me, but one look at him and it's obvious he's getting broody and lost in his thoughts again.
"She wants to know whether we're secretly dating," he reveals after stopping at the entrance of my English class. "And... she wants to know how you feel about me." He speaks the latter to himself.
"Is that all?" I scoff. "Boring. Still, I'll offer up some juicy details." I wink again, for his benefit this time.
"Please stop." He sighs, continuing to look annoyed, but then he goes and contradicts himself by gently wiping a strand of hair clear from my face where the breeze swept it.
"Well, it's better than the alternative," I utter out with a squeak.
"What's the alternative?"
"Are you serious?—that you're from a legion of the undead who wants to eat me, of course."
He sighs for the third time. Or maybe the forth. It's louder this time, and bleeding with exasperation. "You are a very strange girl," he grumbles to himself, except I heard it this time.
But I mean, I am strange, so he has me there.
"So, how should I answer the last part?" I ask after perving on the incredibly sexy way he squeezes his eyes closed and pinches the bridge of his nose. Though, it kind of reminds me of something my father would do, and that can't be a good thing.
"Tell her the truth," he offers simply, before inching closer to me, "but I'll be listening." It's him who winks this time, while I'm rendered cryogenically frozen.
"Stop doing that! Weirdo," I conclude as a complete cover before turning and heading into class.
Every single person in the room stares at me, so figuring I should at least give them something to gossip about, I peer over my shoulder and add, "See you at lunch, lover!"
This time Clark turns beet red, and spinning on his heel, exactly like Jessica did previously, he's instantly gone.
"Hey, Bella," Squinty Eyes accosts me the instant I sit down and drop my books to the desktop, looking poutier and put-out than usual. "How was Port Angeles?"
"Awesome," I answer without looking at him. "Clark picked me up before dinner and we had a midnight rendezvous."
"So is he your boyfriend?" he practically barks out at me.
"Yes!" I respond in kind, before pausing. Chances are Clark's eavesdropping, and the asshole will definitely use it against me the first chance he gets.
"What did Jessica say about our date?" he continues on with this banal as fuck bullshit.
"That you're not very well hung," I say innocently, just as Mike's eyes almost bug out of his head.
"She-she really said that?" he demands, looking like he's on the verge of tears.
"Of course she didn't. Jesus, get a grip—and didn't I tell you to stop bothering me?" I put to him.
"I'm just talking," he sulks.
"Yeah, well Edward is very possessive, and he's crazy strong. He was going to kill you after you dropped me on the ground last week." To hell with it, I might as well go the full hog and give that beautiful fucker plenty of ammunition against me, because wise ass Clark is hotter than the sun.
"What?" I didn't drop—"
The teacher calls the class to order effectively cutting mike off, who skulks off to his desk. I turn in my paper and spend the rest of the class, and most of Government as well, having erotic fantasies about Clark.
He better not be bullshitting about not being able to read my mind.
He was right about Jessica though. She pounces on me the instant I walk through the door of our Trig class.
"So I suppose the two of you are going out together now?" she asks, trying to play it off as boredom.
I shrug an even more disinterested shoulder. "He wants to, but right now, I'm just happy using him for sex."
She balks and stares at me for several long seconds as if she wants to call my bluff. I ignore her and she eventually moves on. "So, did you plan to ditch us and meet up with him?"
"Yep," I say matter-of-factly, and am forced to backtrack for the sake of Angela, who I actually like. "Of course, I didn't. He got all worried because my phone was dead and he couldn't reach me, so he tracked me down. He's so needy!" I smirk discreetly to myself because it isn't exactly a lie.
"And then he picked you up for school," she recaps as if I wasn't there.
"Apparently."
"You going on more dates?" she continues to pry.
"Apparently."
"Apparently?" she echoes dubiously.
"Apparently." Does anyone in this town know how to take a damn hint?
The class starts, and Jessica's forced to mope, until there's a break in the lesson. "What did you talk about?" she whispers because the teacher's obviously aware what a boring gossip she is like the rest of the school.
"Sex," I whisper back, and that shuts her up. For a moment.
"So I guess he likes you," she decides, like she's about to have a tantrum over it.
"Apparently." Fuck knows why, is closer to the truth.
"How are you brave enough to be alone with him?" she asks after a moment, and it definitely grabs my attention.
I stare at her, wondering whether she's caught on. Maybe her perm is hiding more brains that I originally thought. "What do you mean by that?"
"Well... he's so hot. I couldn't even look him in the eye."
I laugh. "Yeah, his eyes have a way of putting spells on you. Plus, he's more than just hot." My tone restricts, and I realize I'm defending him
Why am I defending him?
"How so?" she asks, deliberately sounding skeptical.
Bitch!
"He's smart, thoughtful, and really, really good in bed," I say nonchalantly. "Plus, he's Batman."
"What?" she asks blankly.
"'I am vengeance'," I quote from the trailer of the latest Batman movie before breaking off to giggle.
Jessica only descends into more staring only to break it a moment later. "So you like him then?"
I snort because what kind of question is that? "Of course I like him."
"How much do you like him?" she continues to pester.
"A lot," is all I say.
"Does he like you more?"
"Jessica—jesus!" I hiss, turning my head in her direction squarely. "Why don't you ask him that!"
The teacher hears and he keeps a bug eye on her for the rest of the hour, thank fuck. I haul ass to my next class well and truly ahead of her, and she's forced to run to keep up with me. I've become a master at evasive action, though, and I lose her easily.
I sway Jessica off the topic of Clark by telling her about Closet Perv's question during English. She loses her shit, so we spend the hour over-analyzing every infinitesimal facial expression he made until I start contemplating shoving my fingers down my throat.
When the bell signals for lunch, I almost jump into the ceiling in my excitement, and this time Jessica clues on.
"You're not sitting with us at lunch, are you?"
"Hell no," I say, shoving my books back in my bag and immediately heading for the door.
I collide with a cold body.
Clark is half leaning against the wall waiting for me, as though he were posing for Playboy, despite being fully clothed. He catches me, because I'm fairly certain he anticipated this happening.
On impulse, I grab onto him as Jessica walks past rolling her eyes. "See you later, Bella," she says sarcastically.
I ignore her; my focus solely on Mr. Hottie Corn Eyes.
"Hey," Clark says with a smirk, except he looks sort of agro; which means he was definitely listening in.
"Hi," I imitate him. "You going to escort me everywhere from now on, are you?"
"It's the only effective way to keep you alive."
"Even with you wanting to eat—"
"Shut up and walk," he says yanking me after him.
He drags me into the cafeteria and almost pulls me off my feet. I use it as an excuse to hang onto his arm. People stare, I grip him harder, and he turns to stone.
I lead him to the line-up for lunch when it becomes obvious he was heading straight for his table in Siberia away from the rest of the Chernobyl supermodels. His expression is starting to relax, I notice, and the smirk is definitely winning against his irritation.
When we reach the front of the queue, he moves to the counter and starts piling a single tray high with food.
"I can get my own food, you know," I state, attempting to nudge him out of the way, and failing, of course.
"Half of it's for me," he says completely unironically.
I scoff. "Sure it—"
Before I can finish, he grabs my hand and proceeds to pull me to his table. I have a suspicion he meant to grab my jacket instead, but miscalculated.
"How very chivalrous, Captain Caveman," I grumble, taking the chair opposite him. "Quit dragging me everywhere."
He pushes the ginormous tray of food before me and rolls his eyes. "And you say I'm grumpy when I'm hungry."
I harrumph and pick up an apple. "Can you eat food or does it make you puke?"
"It makes me puke," he answers without hesitation even as a smile tugs on his lips.
"I'm pretty sure everyone has noticed that none of you ever put food in your mouths," I say biting into the apple. Its juices squirt everywhere; enough that Clark angles his head so he doesn't get hit by it.
"You thinks so, do you?" he eventually replies before something behind him catches his attention and he glances over his shoulder. "Jessica..." he mutters to himself.
"Yeah, she hates me." I shrug.
"It doesn't bother you?" He pushes a slice of pizza at me, and what the hell is with this guy forcing food onto me?
"You don't honestly think I'm still in shock, do you?" I put to him, probably failing at the one-eyebrow thing.
He grins and then completely changes the subject. "Rumor has it, you're using me for sex."
"Rumor my ass. You heard me say that because you obviously have no respect for personal boundaries." I snort because tip of the iceberg.
"I warned you I'd be listening," he adds as some kind of disclaimer.
"That doesn't make it right."
"Habit."
"Sure," I say drolly, munching on the pizza. I am pretty hungry.
"You know, if Jessica asked me, I'd tell her I like you more than you like me," he says sounding way too serious.
I stop eating and gaze at him. "And how do you know that?"
"Because everything to you is a joke." So that's why he was so agro. "And I'm not needy," he interjects when I open my mouth to reply.
"Aren't you?" I mock the way he usually answers me, only to sigh when I realize he actually is serious. "Just because I don't spill personal details to a girl who hates me, doesn't mean everything is a joke to me."
He stares at me for a moment, his cheese eyes snapping the elastic of my knickers before I'm forced to pull myself back from the brink.
"Fair point," he says quietly.
"Huh?" I've forgotten what the hell we were even talking about.
He raises his eyebrow to prompt my memory, and pulls it off perfectly. "You're spacing out."
"Because you keep putting spells on me."
"Didn't I dispel that myth?"
"You don't talk like you're twenty-one."
"Seventeen."
"Sure, and my father is twenty-five."
He sighs and rubs at his forehead, and for some strange reason I become caught up in the way his skin creases beneath his fingers like any other humans would.
"Bella...?" I think he asks in complaint, except he looks all torn and broody all of a sudden.
"Yeah?"
"It's because our emotions are extremely heightened, that's how I know."
It takes a moment for me to comprehend his meaning. "Oh... I'm not just joking, you know..."
"It's a defense mechanism with you. I figured that much out on my own," he tells himself.
"You assume an awful lot," I say, tilting my head; I've given up on the one eyebrow business.
"Habit," he echoes. I tsk, and it brings the smile immediately back to his lips. "To reiterate, I cannot cast spells on you, and the reason I often stare at you is because I'm trying to get around the barrier around your mind."
He's surprisingly honest, so I decide to do the same. "I know you're not putting spells on me. What you're actually doing is rendering me mute by how beautiful you are."
I instantly regret it. He smirks again. In fact, he more than smirks. His whole damn, creepily beautiful face lights up with warmth. "You're beautiful too, you know."
"I'm sorry—what?"
I'm beginning to feel as if the room is moving.
"You don't believe me, do you?"
"Not really."
"I'm not the only guy in this school who likes you," he says simply, even as the grin doesn't wane from his lips.
"I'm a novelty."
"Trust me, you aren't."
I blink rapidly, the same way my father often does, only not in the same context. I think about telling him he's weird, but don't.
He continues to smile, more to himself this time, and then breaks the ice. So to speak. "We still on for this weekend?"
"...Where?—oh Seattle! Well... sure."
"Want to do something else, instead?" he asks simply, not giving anything away.
"What?" I ask cynically. "Don't tell me you want me to go to the dance with you?" It's not a question.
"If I asked you, would you agree?" he leans slightly closer.
I immediately mirror him. "Sure."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Well, we can go together if you'd like," he puts to me, both eyebrows raising this time.
"I'd rather not."
"Why is that?"
"I can't dance, and I hate wearing dresses."
"I'll lead, and we can wear jeans together."
"People will stare," I counter.
"They're staring now," he replies and that's when I realize he's messing with me.
"Do you really want to go?" I ask suspiciously.
"If you wanted to, I'd take you, but it's obvious you don't," he concedes.
"It is. So what's this something else you want to do, then?"
"I'll take you somewhere," he says cryptically.
"To have me for lunch?"
"Maybe." He laughs, tips his head and winks, while my insides start vibrating. "You should probably tell your father you'll be out with me," he adds, and there's something severe about his expression this time.
"Why is that?"
"So, I'll have a reason to bring you back." He says in a small voice, his eyes lowering to the surface of the table, and I know the proper response should be fear, but instead, my loins catch on fire.
"'Kay, I'll tell him," I say disorientated, before clearing my throat into my closed fist.
"Are you sure you don't want to go to Seattle?" he presses as if it's somehow his final warning. "We can go if you don't want to be alone with me."
"Would you actually take me to Seattle?"
He laughs again, all sex and brandy. "Yes."
"I'm up for anywhere, and I don't mind being alone with you," I decide, and it's probably better to let him think I fear he'll eat me instead of what I'm really concerned about.
That he won't attempt at least second base.
Glancing away he appears to sulk for a moment, until I bring it to his attention. "If I can't know your mind, you can't know mine."
I scoff again, but let it go. "Change of subject."
"Hmm?"
"Why'd you go camping at Mount Rainer? My father said there's a lot of bears there this time of year."
He raises that eyebrow again and waits for the penny to drop.
It does a few seconds later. "You eat bears!?" I exclaim in a whisper. "They're not in season."
"We don't shoot them," he replies dryly.
"Apparently."
He chuckles, and this time I groan beneath my breath as if I'm about to go down the first huge dip of a rollercoaster.
"Emmett prefers bears," he continues after he waits for me to pull myself together even as his eyes are trained on me closely.
"Well, that makes sense since he's as big as one," I say sounding like I'm out of my mind. "So, what do you prefer?"
He gazes at me for a moment as if he's considering whether to answer or not. "Cougars."
My mouth falls open. "Poor things! I'm pretty sure they're endangered."
"Only in Southern California," he says sounding suddenly pissed off.
"Do you have to kill them?"
"Would you prefer I kill you?" he asks a little too stiffly.
"You almost did," I point out lightly as his expression eases and he rolls his eyes.
"You asked me what I prefer," he reminds me. "I don't always feed from them. It's mostly deer. And elk..." He frowns and glances away.
"Sorry," I offer humbly because this topic is making him uncomfortable and I feel shitty for it.
"What are you thinking?" he asks impulsively turning back to me.
"A million things. It's... I don't know." I shrug an irritable shoulder.
"Still want to use me for sex?" he teases, and I'm sure he meant to lighten the mood, but it only makes it ten times more oppressive.
"Do you want me to answer?" I ask as my breath catches.
"Yes."
"Of course I do," I state candidly. He doesn't react as I hoped though. He appears appalled, so I quickly change the subject. "Can I watch you eat a cougar?"
This only makes him worse, and angrier. "You wouldn't make it home," he practically strangles out.
"Why?" I ask while his expression continues to simmer in anger. "Would you mind not glaring at me?!"
"Let's go," he says abruptly, moving himself out of the chair in one fluid movement.
"Where?" I ask, jumping up alongside him with my heart suddenly lodging in my throat.
"To class, obviously," he says flatly.
Dammit... I really thought he wanted to ditch again. And fuck me.