Thursday, March 3, 2011

Massage Therapy, Chapter 10 - Vertigo, part 2

“Edward,” I exclaimed, a tiny thrill shooting through me despite his obviously inebriated state. “I didn’t think you were going to show.”

“Surprise,” he said in a rather caustic tone. It sounded almost like an accusation. But of what?

My excitement sputtered slightly, then fizzled as I looked uneasily at his skeevy-looking friend. The way he kept eye-balling me gave me the heebie-jeebies. I stared back at Edward, itching to slap the stupid hazy grin off of his face. I couldn’t decide if he looked like an idiot, or sexy as hell. Maybe both.

“So this is her?” the ponytail guy asked, pointing the bottleneck of his beer back and forth between me and Edward. He made the question sound more like a statement, as if he already knew who I was. I immediately wondered what Edward had told him about me.

“Oh, I’m sorry, please excuse my rudeness,” Edward replied with exaggerated politeness. He was so sloshed that everything coming out of his mouth seemed to smack of sarcasm. “This is Isabella Swan, my favorite client. Isabella, this is James Lawrence, an old drinking buddy of mine from college.”

“Clearly,” I muttered to the drunks, begrudgingly holding my hand out to shake James’. He took it and brought it to his lips for a kiss instead. I fought the urge to wipe the back of my hand on my jacket as soon as he released it. He was slimy. That was the only word for him. He was the kind of guy I’d always avoided when I was in college myself. The kind of guy I avoided now, for that matter. I couldn’t believe this was an example of the sort of people Edward used to hang out with.

“She’s cute,” James shrugged, taking a sloppy swig of his beer. “Not really your type, but you know, it’s been awhile. Maybe your type has changed.”

I glared up at Edward, getting more irritated with him by the second. How could he stand there and let this jerk talk about me like I wasn’t even there? Worse yet, he was back to calling me by my full name, as if I were on trial and he were the judge. That was pretty rich, considering he should be the one feeling guilty right now.

“How much have you had to drink?” I demanded. It wasn’t even 10:30 yet.

“How much have we had, Edward?“ James mused. They snickered at one another like kids who’d just been caught raiding the cookie jar.

“Not that much,” Edward scoffed. “But I guess it depends on your definition of ‘too much.’ Is a fifth of whiskey too much, Miss Swan?”

I definitely wanted to slap him now.

“Well, apparently it’s not enough, since you still remember her name,” James replied with a derisive laugh. His words knocked the wind out of me and I staggered back.

“That’s enough,” Edward ordered, raising his arm in front of James’s chest, as if to keep him away from me.

I turned my disbelieving eyes on him. “What the hell have you been saying about me?” I demanded, stunned that Edward would be talking about me behind my back, especially with someone I didn’t even know.

“Nothing. He’s just being an asshole,” Edward tried to placate me as he gave James a warning look.

“Oh, he’s being an asshole? Glad you cleared that up for me,” I retorted.

“At least he’s not macking on other girls right in front of your face,” James accused.

“That’s enough!” Edward repeated, his voice now a menacing snarl as he glared at his friend.

I gaped at them in undisguised shock. What the hell was James talking about? The only thing I could think of was that he and Edward had witnessed the kiss Jake had given me, and that had been over an hour ago, before the band even began playing. As understanding dawned, I could feel rage begin to bubble deep in my veins.

“Have you been sitting back here spying on me all night?” I exclaimed, giving Edward a look of utter disbelief. That kind of behavior seemed so beneath him, I couldn’t wrap my mind around the thought of him stooping that low.

James, however, was another story. My eyes narrowed at him as he continued to spew his vitriol. “I wouldn’t call it spying,” he said with a smirk. “More like a general observation. I mean, you are in a public place, where anyone can see your little band-boy slobbering on you.”

I shook my head, still barely able to comprehend what was happening. I looked up at Edward’s guilty, impotent face and truly wanted to smack some sense into him. I’d never felt so close to committing physical violence before, but I wanted to in the worst way right now.

“I can’t believe you,” I unloaded on him at last, trying to keep my voice from quivering. “I’ve been sitting up there with my bosses and your brother this whole time, and you never even bothered to say hello? Let alone come sit with us, like a normal person would. Instead you’re hiding back here, getting bombed off your ass? Unbelievable. You are seriously fucked in the head, Edward.”

He looked like he was about to protest, so I quickly cut him off. “Speaking of your brother, I’m sure he’s wondering where I am right now. So unless you want him to come looking for me, I’m going back to our table and try to pretend I never even saw you here.”

I spun on my heels and took off for the front of the club before the tears could come, and before Edward could stop me. Would he even try? He was too hammered to catch me anyway, I thought bitterly as I stormed off.

Wrong, on all counts. I felt his hand close around my arm, gentle but firm, yanking me to a halt. And one blasted tear was already streaking down my face as he turned me around to face him.

“Bella, please. I need to talk to you.” He was using the Masseur Voice now: low, calm, persuasive. Even swimming in alcohol, his eyes managed to penetrate all my angry defenses and pierce my soul.

“About what?” I spat, trying to keep my anger on full boil.

“Everything,” he answered simply. He looked serious. As serious as a completely smashed individual can be, anyway.

And just like that, I felt my furor reduce down to a low simmer. I’d been trying to get Edward to open up since I met him. If it took a gallon of booze to loosen his tongue, then so be it.

“Come sit with us. Talk to me,” I offered.

He shook his head, frowning. “No, I don’t want to embarrass you in front of your colleagues. That’s why I’ve been staying out of your way.”

“Then why did you get so wasted?” I said with an exasperated sigh.

“Because I’m seriously fucked in the head,” he replied. Repeating my words seemed like an act of contrition, an admission that I was right. His eyes were plaintive. “Come outside with me for a minute.”

I shook my head. “My bosses are backstage with the band right now. I need to be here when they come back.”

“It’ll only take a couple of minutes, I promise.”

I wanted to tell him to go to hell. But behind the alcoholic fog, there was a desperation in his eyes that I could not ignore. It called to me like a siren, and I knew I had to answer the call.

“Let me go find out what’s going on. I’ll make an excuse and meet you outside in a few minutes,” I begrudgingly agreed.

He leaned in close to me, his hand resting on my collarbone, and my heart raced accordingly. “Thank you,” he whispered. His lips brushed the delicate bones of my ear, sending a surge of endorphins flooding through my body.

I tore my eyes from his heavy gaze and shakily made my way back to the front of the club. As luck would have it, Rosalie, Mark and Sam were emerging from the backstage area at the same time, and we all converged at the table. Their satisfied smiles told me that The Wolf Pack becoming the newest client on our roster was practically a done deal.

“You’ve got some very happy friends back there, Bella,” Rose beamed at me. “You might want to go congratulate them.”

“Oh my God, that’s awesome!” I exclaimed, relieved to hear some good news. “You won’t be sorry,” I told Mark and Sam. “I’ve known these guys a long time, and their work ethic is second to none.”

“I’ve seen enough to know that,” Mark grinned, looking a little nostalgic. “The raw material is there. We can do the rest and let them concentrate on harnessing that energy we just saw. Nice find, Bella.”

“Thanks,” I said, blushing modestly. After all, how hard was it to “find” a talented group of guys you’d grown up with?

“This calls for a toast,” Emmett declared, refilling all of our glasses from the pitcher he’d just ordered.

“To Bella and Rosalie,” Mark said, raising his beer.

“To The Wolf Pack,” I suggested instead as I lifted my glass.

“And Java Noise,” Rosalie smiled.

Everyone touched glasses and took a hefty gulp. Emmett winked at me and then gazed at Rosalie, clearly smitten. She smiled seductively back at him, happy to be in her element, closing another successful deal. I had the feeling Emmett was going to get lucky tonight. And all things considered, I thought Rosalie was pretty lucky, too. I wished Edward could have a fraction of Emmett’s open candor.

“Why don’t you go backstage and see the guys?” Rose suggested. “They’re celebrating pretty heavily, so I hope they’re sober enough to do their second set,” she laughed.

“I can imagine,” I smiled. I wasn’t sure if I could deal with any more inebriated males tonight, but I figured I’d better make an appearance before the band went back onstage. Besides, I was truly excited for them, and glad they were joining our label. I’d deal with Jake’s infatuation later.

Sam guided me to the backstage area, where I was greeted by a champagne-soaked Jake the minute he saw me.

“Bells!” he hollered, rushing up and grabbing me in his muscular arms. “You heard the good news?”

“I did,” I grinned. “Congratulations! I’m not surprised though. I knew they’d love you.”

Jake whirled me around a couple of times and I couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. “We couldn’t have done it without you,” he said as he finally set me down. “Thanks for going to bat for us. I won’t forget it.”

I couldn’t quite meet his eyes as they grew serious. “Well, you’d better not. The hard part is just beginning, you know. Recording a CD, promoting, touring, fighting off groupies,” I joked.

“Are you kidding? That’s like a vacation, all of it!” he laughed. “Besides, you’re going to be with us for all of it, right?”

“Well, yeah, pretty much. I mean, you’ll be working with a lot of other people, but Rose and I will still be kind of overseeing everything and helping to promote you. We aren’t going to disappear or anything.”

“I can’t wait,” he grinned, his eyes shining with excitement and a little something else that made me uneasy.

“Me neither,” I said a little less buoyantly. I was beginning to fear that he was coming in for another kiss. I was grateful when the rest of the Wolf Pack interrupted us to tell me thanks for getting their feet in the door. I congratulated them all and glanced surreptitiously at my watch, wondering how long Edward would wait for me.

The band was due back onstage shortly, and they excused themselves to get ready. As Jake tried to corner me again, I noticed a red “exit” sign over his shoulder on the far wall.

“I need to call Angela and I can’t get any reception in here,” I fibbed, gesturing toward the door behind him. “I want you guys to kill it out there, okay?”

“You know it,” Jake grinned. He pulled me in a quick hug but nothing more, then released me and bounded back toward the stage. I sighed with relief and zoomed toward the side door, hoping it was unlocked. It opened easily and I walked out into the summer night, enjoying the warmth that still lingered under the moonless sky.

I peered around in the dark, trying to take in my surroundings. The door had opened into a narrow alleyway between the club and its restaurant neighbor. The rank aroma of a dumpster to my left sent me wandering off in the other direction, toward the road, where a single street lamp cast circle of illumination on the pavement below. Silhouetted in its backlight was a tall, lanky figure leaning against the side of the building. I watched as he raised one hand to his face, creating a tiny red glow that flickered and then dimmed. The burning tip of a cigarette, I realized. As I drew closer, I recognized the lean lines of his long torso and limbs; the disarray of his hair.

“Edward?” I whispered.

He turned toward me, but I couldn’t quite see his face in the dark. I approached him slowly, sure it was him, but still wary in case my senses were wrong.

“Bella?” he replied, his velvet voice sounding as surprised as mine did. He had been looking for me in the direction of the front sidewalk, not the back door.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” I apologized, though I wasn’t certain he deserved an apology. “The band’s getting signed. I just came from congratulating them backstage.” I motioned to the side entrance in explanation.

He nodded and took another drag from his cigarette. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

I stepped closer, moving around so that I could see him better in the street light. Its pale blue rays carved his face into an architecture of perfect masculine beauty.

“Did he kiss you again?” Edward asked. His eyes were hard to read in the low light, but the annoyance in his voice was impossible to miss.

“No. And if he had, I would have turned my head.”

He took another puff from his cigarette. I hate smoking. I especially hated how sexy he was making it look right now.

“I was right about him. He’s not giving up.” Edward exhaled loudly, turning his head to blow the putrid smoke away from my face.


“It doesn’t matter what he wants. I told you what I want. Now it’s your turn,” I said, throwing the ball in his court. I stared at him relentlessly until his gaze faltered and fell. He frowned down at his fingers, where his cigarette had burned down to ash. He dropped the butt, squashed it quickly with his black leather boot, and fumbled around in his pocket for another. It was clear that he was using his effort to light up again as an excuse to ignore my challenge.

“You’re smoking,” I observed, trying not to make it sound like a judgment. “Since when do you smoke?”

He studied me, perhaps trying to discern my feelings on the subject. Or possibly he was just trying to stay awake and upright.

“Since high school,” he said flatly, unapologetically. He put a fresh cancer stick to his lips and set a butane lighter flame to the tip, inhaling deeply.

I felt my irritation returning. “You wanted to talk to me. So talk.”

He twiddled the cigarette between his long fingers, then put it to his mouth again. He was nervous, although I wasn’t sure how he could be, as pickled as he was. Finally, he settled his skittish eyes on mine. They were luminous blue-green liquid in the streetlight.

“I had a great time with you today, and I’m sorry I fucked it up,” he said. His free hand reached for his hair and found its comfort, fingers burrowing, hiding. I waited patiently, knowing more was coming. He took a deep breath and continued.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been using lame excuses to keep you at a distance, when I’m the one who’s too much of a chicken-shit to let you in. I’m sorry that I pushed you away instead of facing my feelings for you. And I’m sorry that I wasted my time with a jackass like James tonight when I should have done the right thing by you instead.”

Were my ears ringing? I stared at him, dumbfounded. His string of honest declarations nearly flattened me. I would have been a lot more impressed if he hadn’t needed so much liquid courage to say them, but I figured we had to start somewhere.

His expression grew pensive as he waited for my reaction. I let him sweat a little longer, until his brows furrowed and he turned his attention to his cigarette again.

“I accept your apology,” I finally relented. When he looked back into my eyes again, I asked him, “Now, what are you going to do to make it up to me?”

He blinked at me a couple of times, and I realized he was probably trying very hard to focus. I raised an eyebrow at him and gave him the kind of suggestive look he was so good at. He exhaled in relief as a slow grin crept across his gorgeous mug. “I can think of several things. Quite a few, actually.”

“I’ll bet you can. Whether or not you’re able to act on them at the moment is another story,” I teased. By the looks of him, I figured he was about an hour away from passing out entirely unless I could get some good, strong coffee into him.

“Oh, I might surprise you, Miss Swan. In the past, I have proven to possess some fairly impressive skills, even while intoxicated,” he leered down at me.

“Well, it’s pretty impressive that you just uttered the word ‘intoxicated’ without slurring, I’ll give you that.”

“I want you to give me a lot more than that,” he murmured. He was leaning closer, venting a cloud of boozy smoke all over me, yet my body still instinctively stretched up toward his, yearning for his kiss. His face blurred as his lips came closer, and I could taste every evil he’d consumed this evening as I inhaled his breath. I made an involuntary face, then quickly placed my fingers over his beautiful lips before they touched mine.

“Huh-uh,” I refused him. “I’m still pissed at you for stalking me all night. That was despicably low, not to mention, immature. You’re going to have to work for my forgiveness for that one.”

He scowled petulantly. “I didn’t plan to spy on you. I didn’t even intend to come here. I called James because I just wanted to get drunk and forget everything for awhile, and he happens to be excellent in that capacity, if nothing else. We started off at a different pub, throwing back shots and chasers. He finally got me to admit what I was trying to escape from. Next thing I knew, he was getting a cab and dragging my ass here.

“Literally, the first thing I saw when I walked in the door was MonkeyBoy laying one on you, and I just… I don’t know. I wanted to punch that big fucking Ultra-Brite smile right off his face. I didn’t want to stay, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave, because you were here. I knew I was in no shape to meet your bosses, so I just sat and drank some more.”

I tried not to smile at the fact that he felt compelled to stay because of me, and that he referred to Jake as “MonkeyBoy.”

He shook his head and stared at me dolefully. “You know how when you’re drinking, you just keep thinking that one more will finally drown everything out, but it doesn’t, so you have another…and then another…?”

“Edward,” I sighed softly, reaching up to smooth the worried wrinkles from his brow. “I don’t have to tell you that doesn’t work. You can escape a lot of things, but you can never escape yourself.”

His eyes probed mine, the one lucid part of him that remained searching for something there. He looked tired. The lamplight etched shadows under his eyes that looked deeper than usual.

“I think you should get out of here and sleep it off. We can talk about all of this tomorrow,” I suggested. I began walking toward the front of the club, holding my hand out to him to follow.

“I’m fine,” he protested, sounding a little like a kid complaining that he was being sent to bed early. He grabbed my hand and began weaving clumsily, his feet unable to walk a straight line. “Wait, lemme finish this,” he mumbled, stopping short and sucking on the dregs of his cigarette as if the nicotine were his lifeline.

“You’re being ridiculous,” I told him, grabbing the stub out of his hand and tossing it to the alleyway. He gaped at me a moment, a child whose favorite toy had just been taken away.

“Now who’s being bossy?” he exclaimed, a slow smirk forming. “You’re right--it is sexy. Tell me what to do some more. Tell me what you like.” He rubbed his thumb suggestively along the inside of my palm, and just like that, the child’s play was gone.

“Come on,” I sighed, pretending to be highly irritated with him. In reality, a slow burn was beginning in my nether regions. I gave his hand a yank as I made my way toward the sidewalk again.

“Yes, mistress Swan,” he continued in that insane Sex Voice of his. How he managed to find and unleash it through all the booze was beyond me. “You have handcuffs in that handbag, by any chance?”

“You wish,” I shot back over my shoulder. He stumbled along after me, giggling like a schoolgirl. As we rounded the corner, Edward managed to trip on a crack in the pavement and nearly went down, then began giggling anew.

“Jesus Christ,” I swore, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him upright. “Do you want me to have to bandage you up like you did for me earlier?”

He smiled down at me. “I think I’d like that. I think you’d take good care of me.”

I wished he’d stop shooting all those little arrows straight through my heart. He still had perfect aim, even when he was seeing double.

“I think I’m going to have to,” I sighed. “I’m worried about you getting home in one piece tonight. I think you should stay at my place so I can keep an eye on you.”

That startled him into a second or two of sobriety before the mischief stole over his face again. “What will your roommate have to say about that? Is she into threesomes?”

“Angela is staying at her boyfriend Ben’s this weekend. And you’ll be staying on my couch,” I added immediately, before he could get in another crack.

“Naturally,” he agreed, though he sounded smug and expectant. I thought to myself that even if he did end up in my bed, he’d black out before he could lay a hand on me. What a shame.

I dug the cell phone out of my bag and dialed my usual cab company. I gave them the address while Edward leaned lazily on the railing outside the front door, grinning at me. The monstrous bouncer eyed Edward’s drunken posture suspiciously.

“We’re leaving in ten minutes,” I told the guy as I grabbed Edward’s hand and pulled him toward the front door, practically daring the doorman to separate us. Monster Bouncer rolled his eyes a bit as he checked our admission stamps and let us re-enter the club.

When I glanced up at Edward, he looked highly amused. “I like Bossy Bella. Very take-charge. I’m impressed. And more than a little turned on.” He grinned down at me, letting his heavy-lidded gaze settle on the non-existent cleavage of my v-neck shirt. I hoped he wasn’t a boob man, because he was sure to be sorely disappointed.

“Slow your roll, dude,” I said, making him giggle again. “I’m going to go make up an excuse to everyone. I’ll tell them I have a minor roommate emergency or something. You can come with me, if you’d like to say ‘hi’ to your brother,” I added acidly.

“I’ll take a pass, thanks. I have enough problems without getting an ass-kicking too.”

“Which you kind of deserve,” I couldn’t help but add as I turned to go.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll be hurting enough tomorrow without it,” he sighed. “I’ll find James and let him know I’m leaving, then meet you by the door.”

I nodded and headed to the front of the club, where the band was still jamming. A large crowd was gathered in front of the stage, dancing and cheering. I found Rose and Emmett cuddled together at their table, looking quite cozy and very much alone. They didn’t even see me until I was practically on top of them.

“Did Mark and Sam leave?” I yelled over the music to Rosalie when I got within earshot.

“Yeah, they did. No worries, though, they left right after you went backstage. Where the hell have you been? We were about to start combing the bar for you.”

“Angela called while I was backstage--she had a fight with her boyfriend. I had to go outside so I could talk on my cell. She’s pretty upset, so I’m heading home early. Give my apologies to the band, would you?” I felt a little guilty leaving Rosalie holding the bag. I looked at my watch and was a relieved to see that the band’s set probably wouldn’t last too much longer.

“Sure, no problem,” she smiled. Emmett nodded and waved good night over the din. I was glad that I didn’t have to explain anything to him. I felt guilty making up lies to cover for Edward’s behavior, but I couldn’t bear to send him off alone in a cab in his condition.

I searched room for James, as much as I hated to see him again. I finally found him at the bar, chatting up a heavily-painted blonde with massive cleavage spilling over her tight top. Edward was nowhere around. I looked by the front door, but he wasn’t there either.

I swallowed the bile that rose in my stomach as I approached, then tapped him on the shoulder. He swung around, his ponytail brushing against my hand and sending a wave of revulsion through me.

“Well if it isn’t the lucky lady who’s taking Edward home tonight,” he said sardonically.

I ignored his innuendo and asked, “Have you seen him?”

“He ran to the little boys room. If you’re lucky, he’ll hurl in there instead of at your place,” he laughed.

I gave him a withering look and turned to leave, but he was still talking.

“I have to hand it to you. I didn’t think I’d see Edward get himself tangled up with a girl for a long time after that whole mess with Tanya. I don’t know how you managed it, but you seem to have done a real number on him.” He looked me up and down in that way that made my skin crawl. “Maybe it’s because you’re so different from her.” He shrugged dismissively, then turned back to his slutty-looking conquest.

The bile rose again as I hurried away from him and headed for the restrooms. There was no line to the ladies’ room, so I went in and staggered toward the last stall. I was suddenly seized with a sickening insecurity that literally made me quake. I sat on the toilet, rocking back and forth, holding my middle.

That whole mess with Tanya. The words rang in my ears; the name filled me with inexplicable anxiety. Tanya. Was she part of the terrible, life-altering moment that Edward’s siblings had spoken of? A past girlfriend, obviously. Things must have ended badly. Very badly, for Edward to be so deeply affected.

He must have really loved her. A girl who was “so different” from me. Visions of women like Kate Denali danced in my head: long, lovely, tanned blondes with big boobs and curvy hips and toned legs and everything the polar opposite of my short, pale, slight self with the messy brown hair.

But for whatever reason, Edward Cullen was waiting outside for this tiny brunette, I reminded myself. And if I didn’t get out there soon, he might be in danger of passing out and getting himself arrested.

I pulled myself together and looked long and hard in the mirror, trying to see the good things that Edward told me he saw. Trying to see the beauty. If he saw it, it must be there somewhere, right?

I sighed and turned away from the glass, then made my way out to the front door. There he stood, leaning against the wall, looking bored and ready to nod off; and he was still the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen. He could protest all he wanted, but he truly was empirically beautiful. No one could possibly think that about me.

And yet when he saw me coming, his face transformed. A broad smile pushed his pink cheeks upward and crinkled his eyes, his boredom replaced with happiness. He was indisputably happy to see me. I had to hang onto that, no matter what.

“I was beginning to think you ditched me,” he scolded gently as his arm went around me. I put mine around him as well, to help steady him as we exited the building. Our cab was waiting, and I considered it a miracle that no one had snagged it while I was having my mini-breakdown in the bathroom.

“I would never ditch you,” I assured him. He opened the cab door for me; I scooted over so that he could enter through the same door instead of going around.

“Thanks,” he whispered, placing his hand over my thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze. “How’s your knee?” He ran his fingers lightly over the fabric of my jeans where he knew the scrape was.

“It’s fine. You kissed it and made it better, remember?” I hooked my arm through his and laid my head on his shoulder. I needed his reassurance now.

He took my hand and slid his fingers between mine. I felt him rest his cheek against my hair; he let out a sigh. We rode in silence this way for several miles, bodies pressed together, warm and drowsy.

Edward was drowsy, anyway. I was still too preoccupied to relax. Finally, I could stand it no longer. I had to know.

“Edward, are you asleep?” I whispered.

“Hmmm? No,” he said groggily.

I took a deep breath. “Who’s Tanya?”

I felt the length of his body stiffen; his fingers gripped mine a little more tightly. “What makes you ask?”

Great, a question answered with a question. “James mentioned that he was surprised to see you ‘tangled up with a girl’ after ‘that whole mess with Tanya.’”

Edward was silent a moment. “What else did he say?”

“Nothing, really. Just that I’m very different from her.”

He squeezed my hand more tightly and began rubbing his thumb along mine. “That’s true, you are. Thank God.”

I pulled my head back to give him a quizzical look. He smiled gently and continued.

“She was a girlfriend in college, that’s all. I’m really not up to talking about our old girlfriends and boyfriends right now, if that’s all right.”

“Sure,” I agreed, not really eager to launch into my past with Mike Newton, either. There wasn’t much to tell. It was the typical short-lived college romance, doomed to fail by the time graduation rolled around. Mike certainly didn’t have the earth-shattering effect on me that I feared Tanya did on Edward.

Edward was snoring softly when the cab pulled up to my house. I hoped I could rouse him long enough to get him up the stairs.

“Hey, borracho, we’re here,” I spoke in his ear as I nudged his arm.

He grunted softly and mumbled, “Did you just call me a drunk?”

“Yes. A drunk who’s bi-lingual--impressive.”

“Tri-lingual. I also speak French. La langue d’amour,” he grinned, giving me a sleepy sideways look.

“Even better. A tri-lingual drunk with a one-track mind.”

“What, you don’t like the track I’m on?” he asked. “I don’t believe that.”

I ignored him and reached up to pay the cab driver. Edward immediately began to fish for his wallet, insisting on paying.

“I got it,” I told him, shooing his hands away. “You can pay me back tomorrow if you’re hell-bent on being chivalrous.”

“I am, and I will,” he declared as he swung the door open and stepped out of the taxi. He swayed slightly, but seemed to get his bearings by the time I joined him.

“Come on, Mister Stumbles,” I teased as I put my arm around his narrow waist and steered him toward the stairs.

“I’m starting to take offense to all this name-calling,” he grumbled as we climbed the steps, though he didn’t sound offended at all. He was still grinning like a loon. “I get it. I’m a drunken idiot. You don’t have to rub it in.”

“I know I don’t, but it’s fun,” I giggled as we trudged up the wooden staircase. “You’re actually pretty cute when you’re blotto. Well, when you’re not being an asshole. But I think I can blame a lot of that on your buddy James. I can’t believe you used to be friends with that guy.”

“Yeah, well, that was another life.” I couldn’t decide if he sounded relieved or wistful.

“Do you miss it?”

“No,” he answered emphatically. “Every time I think I do, something like this happens to remind me why I’m glad it’s over.”

“What do you mean by ‘it?’ Glad what’s over?”

“College. Bar-hopping. Hanging out with douche-bags like James. Being one myself.” His voice was brittle.

“Were you that bad?” I asked him. “Were you a womanizer?” I would have been surprised if he hadn’t been. He’s too good-looking not to have taken advantage of it at some point in his life.

“I had my moments,” he admitted. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of.”

“We all have,” I reassured him. I tried not to think about Edward’s past anymore, and how many women might have been in it. He was here with me now, and that was all that mattered.

We successfully reached the landing outside our duplex and I pulled my keys out of my purse’s side pocket.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” I said as I unlocked the door and pushed it open. I’d left a lamp on in the living room because I hate coming home alone to a dark house. I had no way of knowing that this time, I wouldn’t be alone.

“This is nice,” Edward said as his sleepy eyes perused the place. This was the first time I was glad he was inebriated, so maybe he wouldn’t notice the hodgepodge of mismatched furniture and décor Angela and I had gleaned from flea markets and garage sales.

“Eclectic,” he smiled. “Cozy.” Even drunk, nothing escaped him.

I pointed out the kitchen to the left and the bedrooms to the back, then motioned for him to follow me to the bathroom on the right. I showed him where the aspirin and antacids were in the medicine cabinet, then dug in the cupboards underneath until I came up with a brand new toothbrush.

“Here,” I said as I tore off the packaging. “You’re in luck, we have a spare. It’s yours.”

He stared at the toothbrush like I’d just handed him a key to Fort Knox.

“Wow. Thanks,” he said, giving me the strangest look, like he was deeply touched at my generosity. “You’re like a Girl Scout.”

“What, prepared? I guess so,” I laughed.

“Or maybe you have a whole drawer full of toothbrushes for all the guys you lure back here, and I’m just one of the many,” he joked.

I gave him a look that wordlessly expressed how ludicrous, even insulting, that was.

“I’m sorry,” he grinned. “I’m very grateful for this right about now.”

I left him to brush his teeth while I found clean blankets for the sofa. As I carried them out to the living room, I wondered how I was going to sleep, knowing he was in the next room. I certainly never imagined that the first time I spent the night with Edward, it would be under these circumstances.

I went to the kitchen and got him a glass of water and a vitamin, hoping it would ease his eventual hangover. When I came out of the kitchen, he was just leaving the bathroom.

“Minty fresh,” he proclaimed as he pointed at his delectable mouth. “Want a taste?”

He really was trying to kill me with the innuendos. From any other guy, they would have been laughable. But from Edward, even the lamest come-ons were tempting beyond belief.

“Maybe after I brush my own teeth,” I put him off. “Here, take this. It’ll help your hangover.”

He dutifully placed the vitamin on his impossibly pink tongue and washed it down with several gulps of water. “Man, I’m thirsty,” he commented as he downed the rest of the glass.

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” It felt strange, yet instinctively natural to be taking care of him like this. I was surprised at how much I wanted to do it, and how much I enjoyed it.

“Don’t forget, there’s aspirin and stomach medicine in the bathroom if you need it,” I reminded him. I was suddenly afraid I had just crossed the line into mother hen territory.

He smiled down at me. “I know. You just showed me.”

“Right,” I said sheepishly. “Okay. So… I’m just going to go get ready for bed. You can watch TV if you want--the remote’s on the coffee table. I made up the couch for you.”

“I see that. Thanks.” He didn’t move; just stood there, gazing at me, unblinking.

I could barely tear my eyes away, or make my body move. I mutely gestured toward the bathroom like a mime, then slowly made myself turn and head in that direction.

“Bella?” his voice called after me as I opened the bathroom door.

I whirled around, my face a question mark.

“I was right. You do take good care of me. And I like it.”

His voice was warm butterscotch, melting the last of my resolve, if I had any to begin with. What the hell was I thinking, making him sleep on my couch? Why wasn’t I dragging him into my bedroom instead?

I wrestled with that question as I smiled at him and closed the bathroom door behind me. I pulled my hair back and tied it in a hair band, then scrubbed the make-up off my face and brushed my teeth. I’d been ready for Edward to take me on his piano a few hours ago. And now that I had him here in my apartment, too drunk to fight me off--which he clearly didn’t want to do anyway--I was acting like a nervous virgin. Was it the way he’d been waffling earlier, pushing me away? He had apologized for that, and pretty impressively, under the circumstances. Or was I getting spooked by the ghosts that still seemed to haunt him, no matter what he said?

I stared at the extra toothbrush in the holder as I placed mine next to it. It seemed hugely significant somehow, like a marker of Edward arriving in my life. The Real Edward--serious, silly, smart, foolish, and everything in between. I’d wanted him so badly, and here he was. The emotional paralysis that threatened to take me was an eye-opener. I suddenly understood what had made Edward push me away earlier.

Was I really ready for this? It had been serious between us from the start. Anything that happened now was only going to carve his niche more deeply into my soul. But the alternative--walking away from him--was unthinkable. The only thing I could do now was be honest, with him and myself. I decided I’d play it by ear.

When I crept quietly out of the bathroom, I looked for Edward on the couch. It was empty. My eyes searched and found him across the room, leaning over the end table where several framed photos of me, Angela and our friends were displayed.

I cleared my throat; he straightened and turned. “It’s been a long day,” I heard myself say. “I’m going to get some sleep. Do you need anything else?”

His heavy eyes still seemed to gleam with hunger as he stared at me from across the room. He didn’t answer.

“Just yell if you do,” I said, my voice cracking pitifully. I cleared my throat again and hated the warm flush that began to creep over my face. “Good night,” I called as I escaped to my bedroom and shut the door behind me, cursing my cowardice. For better or worse, Edward and I were more alike than we ever dreamed.

I tried to comfort myself with the thought that I didn’t want my first time with Edward to be when he was too drunk to even remember it the next morning. For that matter, he might not even recall half the things he said to me tonight, including his apologies. Knowing my luck, he’d be calling me “Miss Swan” again in the morning, and not in a “handcuff me to the bed and give it to me now” kind of way, either.

I peeled off my clothes and donned my usual sleepwear, boy shorts and a cotton camisole. I turned on the fan and crawled into bed with no hope of falling asleep in the near future. I could think of absolutely nothing else but Edward on my couch. I wondered how many clothes he’d removed. What was he sleeping in? What if he was naked? Oh, God, how I longed to see him naked, to feel every inch of his skin next to mine. It seemed extremely unfair that he’d already studied nearly every part of my body with his hands, and I’d only had the pleasure of memorizing him with my eyes.

Just as I began fantasizing about going out to the couch and massaging him the way he had me, I heard a loud yowling noise, followed by a little cursing. I jumped out of bed and threw the door open, listening. Mild cursing continued in the direction of the kitchen. I ran around the corner and through the doorway, trying to see what was going on in the pale light streaming through the kitchen window. I finally discerned Edward leaning on the dining table, one leg crooked as he bent down and rubbed his foot.

“What happened?” I exclaimed. “Are you okay?”

“I stubbed my toe on the chair,” he grumbled. “It’s nothing.”

“Why didn’t you turn on the lights?” I asked him. “What do you need? Let me get it for you.”

I spied his empty glass on the table as he said, “I just wanted to get some more water.”

“Here, I keep a pitcher in the refrigerator,” I said as I grabbed his glass off the table and opened the refrigerator door. I got a few ice cubes out of the freezer and plopped them in the glass, then filled it with water. I turned around to hand it to him, and I froze.

He was wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. The light from the refrigerator spilled over his naked chest, illuminating the slight swell of his pectorals; his flat, pink nipples; the gentle ripples of his abdominal muscles; the smattering of light brown hair and moles that decorated his torso. That endless, long, inviting torso. I followed the trail of hair that joined his navel to his groin, growing thicker until it disappeared beneath the waistband of his underwear. My eyes continued their journey down to the rounded bulge between his strong, well-muscled thighs.

Fuck me.

No, really, do it, I thought madly as I stared at his glorious physique. On the counter, over the kitchen table. I didn’t really care. I wanted him, now, however I could get him. Whatever hesitation I’d been feeling was erased with one look at what I’d been missing.

I finally had the sense to be vaguely embarrassed that I’d been openly ogling him, and I looked up sheepishly into his face. I needn’t have worried. His eyes were traveling the length of my body, up and down again, with equal intensity. Pins and needles of desire began to dance between my legs at the ravenous look on his face.

“What are you wearing?” he finally rasped.

Well, certainly nothing very sexy, I thought. “Is that a rhetorical question?” I asked.

He couldn’t seem to muster a laugh.

“Here’s your water,” I said lamely, holding out the glass. He stared at me like I’d gone mad, then finally took it from me and managed a few gulps.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he whispered hoarsely. He stepped closer and reached past me, setting the glass on the counter behind me. The refrigerator door swung shut as he pulled me closer, his hands cradling my face. I could feel his breath hot on my forehead as he towered over me, making me feel small and feminine. The pale moonbeams through the window flickered like flames in his eyes. They were fierce as they raked over me, and I felt that inferno building in him like I had earlier that day. But this time was different. This time, he was giving in, letting it out.

And this time, I was ready for him.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Massage Therapy, Chapter 10 - Vertigo, part 1

From the Desktop of Bella Swan
Sunday, August 8

Oh, Mom. How I wish you were here. I need you more than ever.

It’s ironic because most of the details I’m about to relate are things I’d never dream of telling you if you were still alive. Like always, I’m hoping that writing everything out in printed words will help me sort it out in my head. I don’t think there’s much to be done about my heart, though. It feels like Edward took it with him when he left this morning.

Remember what I said the day I met him? That my nerves made me feel like I was getting ready for a ride on Space Mountain? That was a profound moment of precognition on my part. The past twenty-four hours have been such a roller coaster that I feel like I’m suffering from a severe case of vertigo.

I suppose that as high as I was the past couple of days, the only place left to go was down. I spent the time between Thursday night and yesterday morning on an inflated pink cloud of euphoria. Pinching myself wasn’t enough to ensure that I was conscious anymore. I still had to replay the closing scene Thursday night in my head: Edward asking me out. Edward calling me “Bella.” And not just finally uttering the name, but saying it in such a low, velvety tone that I very nearly fainted on the spot. He whispered my name in the Sex Voice. The tone that is so utterly devastating, so utterly Edward, that the echo of it reverberated ceaselessly inside my head for the next two days. I carried it with me like the tape recorder in my pocket, replaying it in the banks of my memory again and again. I became enraptured at the sound of my own name, a name I had merely tolerated before. I heard him murmur it constantly; felt the breath of it on my face over and over. I began to imagine all the occasions in which he might repeat it; the different ways in which he might say it.

And then I suddenly froze in horror at the thought that he might never utter it again. That I would enter Cullen and Cullen Saturday morning only to be greeted by the smooth, unruffled countenance of the therapist who called me “Miss Swan.”

So when he smiled and said “Bella” the minute I walked through the door, the resultant thrill was also the sweetest relief I could have known. I’ll never understand how someone who excites me so can also soothe me like no other. But that’s exactly what he did yesterday morning. Our massage session seemed more productive than last week’s, as he managed to lull me into a state of trancelike relaxation with his gifted hands. I think that I had spent so much nervous energy anticipating our next meeting that by the time I was finally in his presence, I collapsed into a grateful calm.

I only began to tense up when he placed his hands on my ribs, so close to where I longed for his fingers to stray. My erotic thoughts soon took a dive as he started to do work that was much more like Emmett’s, intensely probing my middle and challenging my pain threshold. He asked me to hang on and be strong for him, and I did. I would do anything for him. I trust him to the point of blind folly. At least, I suspect that’s how he sees it. Yet he proves to me again and again that I’m justified in my faith. All I have to do is make him see that, and help him find a little faith in himself. I’m beginning to see that’s a lot easier said than done.

But I’m jumping ahead. The massage therapy lived up to its name; as always, Edward was a master. I felt focused and energized after he was done, and I couldn’t wait to spend the rest of the day with him. I wanted to milk every moment of togetherness out of him that I could before I had to leave for work. And that’s exactly how I thought of my evening ahead, as work. Getting The Wolf Pack signed was high on my list of priorities, but the opportunity to get to know Edward better was eclipsing it at the moment.

He offered to drive to Seward Park, which I kind of figured he would, but it was still nice to hear him suggest it. I was comforted by the fact that he drives a rather non-descript, older-model Volvo. For one thing, Volvos are safe. For another, it proves Edward doesn’t need to use his vehicle as a status symbol to flaunt his wealth. He confirmed that my assumption was correct; he’s from a well-to-do family. I tend to think that Edward dresses down and makes himself look as ordinary as possible on purpose, to draw less attention to himself. For someone both affluent and as jarringly handsome as Edward, blending in has probably been a wistfully unattainable feat most of his life.

The afternoon was sublime. There’s no other way to put it. I had dreamed of spending quality time like this with Edward so much during the past few weeks that I could barely believe it was actually happening. We talked about dozens of different topics, from the silly to the deadly serious. I found out priceless details about him that I never could have guessed in a million years. I mean, what guy is afraid of dolls? I tried in vain not to laugh as he described how he could feel their creepy eyes following him around the room. Every new piece of information painted a richer, more colorful picture of him… made him real and multi-dimensional, instead of the fantasy character I’d been conjuring up in my wishful imagination. By the end of the day I wanted the Real Edward more that I’d ever dreamed possible. I could feel the want throbbing in my chest, even when he was sitting right beside me.

The first time he tried to kiss me, I thought my heart would rupture, it was beating so hard. He told me I’m beautiful. I tried to remember if Mike had ever told me that. Jake calls me “beautiful” and “gorgeous” all the time, but in his usage, the words are generic nicknames rather than a heartfelt professions.

When Edward Cullen told me I’m beautiful, I believed it. Believed it like I never have before. The way he said it, as if it were indisputable fact, was what hit me so hard. He looked incredulous, even affronted, that other guys seemed to have missed what he found so obvious. He is the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. To discover that he might see me in even a fraction of that light was a revelation that I could scarcely comprehend.

He told me that the other men in my life have been fools. I could think of no other men in my life, save my father. By definition, he’s required to see the beauty in me. No one else has ever been up to the task. Mike was still an overgrown kid when we broke up last year, and Jake, two years my junior, still brims with boyish enthusiasm. Edward’s vivid green eyes, though framed with lashes so lush any girl would be envious, fixed me with a gaze that was all man. Whatever was about to happen between us was no child’s game.

I told him there had been no other men in my life before him. His nostrils flared slightly and his lips pressed together with conviction before he spoke.

“Then let me be your first.”

I will never forget those words as long as I live. The way he said them; what they implied. For one crazy moment I was convinced that I belonged to him, and he to me. I was quivering with anticipation as he leaned down to seal our covenant with a kiss. My eyes closed; my breath caught as my lips parted. At the exquisite touch of his mouth on mine, I exhaled shakily and wondered if I might faint. How embarrassing would that be?

I was saved by a group of noisy hikers coming up behind me, and I hated them for it. The moment was lost. I knew I would never rest until I got it back. And the next time, I would most assuredly not let myself lose consciousness at the key moment.

Edward managed to make a joke of the interruption, and about my statement that I found him “empirically beautiful.” I recalled the off-color comments he had made during our very first massage session, before he had ever seen my face or really knew who I was. I’d been trying to find that Edward ever since, the one who seemed irreverent and unself-conscious. And as the afternoon progressed, he revealed more and more of that unguarded side to me. I was in heaven.

I wondered if he could have the slightest idea of how enamored I was of everything about him, no matter how minute. I memorized the gait of his long-legged stride, the sweep of his large but elegant hands to illustrate his point when talking, the myriad moods of his expressive face. My favorite was his pout: lips pursed, cheeks sucked in, thick brows furrowed, eyes searching. He used this expression whenever he paused to find the right words to explain himself. My second-favorite was his smirk, usually accompanied by one raised eyebrow and a look in his eyes so suggestive that it burned a path of desire deep in my belly.

No, I take it back: my favorite expression was the one on his face right before he kissed me: lips parted, breathing fast; eyes glistening with need and want and maybe a little fear. They mirrored my own, I’m sure. That look is stamped indelibly in my brain. The feel of his mouth on mine was something else altogether.

I wonder if it would have happened if I hadn’t fallen? The encroaching rain clouds had sent us in the direction of the car a little early, but we didn’t make it back before the deluge began. I thought of you the minute my shoe slipped on the rain-soaked pavement and I went down. I could just see you up in heaven, shaking your head and exclaiming, “My poor Bella!” I heard the thunder and thought maybe you and God were having a good-natured laugh at my perpetual clumsiness.

My knee was bleeding a little and it hurt to put weight on my leg, but it was no big deal. Edward, however, flipped into some kind of knight-in-shining-armor mode and scooped me up in his arms before I even knew what he was doing. He carried me the remaining distance to the car and insisted on bandaging me up. At first I thought it was funny, and I joked that he had to kiss it to make it better. By the time he was done planting baby kisses all over my knee, I wasn’t laughing anymore. I wanted those lips on mine more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. Melodramatic, but true, in that moment.

The kiss. Oh, God, the kiss. How are there words to accurately describe a first kiss that you’ve been craving so badly? A kiss that conjures up every cliché about kisses that you’ve ever read, from fireworks and bombs going off, to drowning in ecstasy so deep you never want to resurface? It was all and none of those things; reality crushing fantasy with one swift and unparalleled blow. There was nothing but Edward in that moment: his lips, his tongue, his breath, his moans; his soft skin and rough stubble and masculine bones beneath my grateful fingers. Should I have been scared at the troth that passed through my mind at that moment? “What God has joined together, let no man put asunder.” But this was what I felt in that first union: irrevocably joined with this man, by a force much stronger than I am.

And this was only from a kiss.

I couldn’t stop staring at his lips after he pulled back, panting. They glistened, ripe and red, like maraschino cherries. I immediately wanted to taste them again, to pull that bottom lip between my own and suck on it.

When I finally raised my eyes to his, I saw a raw urgency there that should have frightened me a little. I had been longing to awaken the primal part of him that I’d always suspected lay dormant inside; but when I was face-to-face with the fire, I was still taken aback by its heat. Was I ready to be consumed by him? That was the danger I feared: not Edward himself, but the sway he held over me, and my overwhelming desire to give in.

It seemed that it was my turn to calm him, if I wasn’t quite ready for total surrender. I stroked his face softly, my fingers fascinated with the sandpaper sprouting from his relentless follicles. I smiled and told him that his cure had worked--the pain in my knee was gone. His breathing slowed and a smile came as the fire cooled. I was immediately sorry to see it go, and wondered when and how I could ignite the embers again.

He seemed as reluctant to take me back to my car as I was to go there. He suggested drying my clothes at his place, which sent me on yet another orbit into the stratosphere. I could barely speak during the drive there. I kept imagining him undressing me, slowly removing each article of wet clothing and replacing it with his warm hands and mouth.

I was nudged slowly out of my reverie by the realization that we were entering the industrial district of Seattle, “SoDo” as they call it, passing belching smokestacks and yawning warehouses as we drove. I started wondering where in the heck Edward lived, anyway.

As it turns out, he’s not all that far from Pioneer square, in the top floor of a rather stylish-looking brick building that has been in his mother’s family for years. He has a bachelor pad that would be the envy of most guys, open and spacious, with no one around to complain if you play the stereo too loud. The décor is simple, clean and masculine, and his music collection is to die for. You’d freak if you saw it, Mom. Maybe you already have, from where you’re sitting.

Once I set foot in Edward’s place, I never wanted to leave. I even fell in love with his cat, Lucky. A gorgeous orange tabby, he took a shine to me right away, as most cats do. Edward pretended to be jealous as I stroked Lucky’s fur while he lolled contentedly at my feet. But when I looked up at Edward, his expression was dead serious and strangely intense. He quickly mumbled something about getting me some clothes to wear while mine were in the dryer, and then disappeared.

When he returned, he showed me to the bathroom so that I could change, dispelling my earlier fantasies about him undressing me. Curiosity quickly replaced disappointment as I took in the details of the room, from the nautical décor to the navy-trimmed white towels and matching bath rugs. I bit my lip as I looked in the medicine cabinet mirror, dismayed at my bedraggled appearance, but more interested in opening the cabinet door to inspect its contents.

I’m not proud of it, but I did it. I snooped. I had to see what brand of shaving cream and deodorant and toothpaste he used, what kind of razor, what sorts of stomach- and head-ache remedies he preferred. I gently fingered the bottles as if they contained frankincense and myrrh instead of aspirin and antacid. There was no detail about Edward that I wasn’t itching to know.

I opened the bottle of after-shave I found on the counter and sniffed the familiar scent, stronger here than on his rain-soaked face, but still fresh-smelling, not heavy and cloying. Did he have to do everything right? I was beginning to look for just one thing that would make me cringe, to remind myself that he was real and attainable, not some mythical creature who might disappear at my first wrong move.

I turned to the clothes he’d given me to put on, a typically non-descript over-washed t-shirt and sweats. I buried my face in the material and breathed deeply, enjoying the faint mixture of fabric sheets and Edward that tickled my nose. The clothes were clean, but somehow his scent lingered there, intoxicating me. I peeled off my wet garments and grabbed his shower towel, hoping it was the one he’d used that morning. I inhaled deeply again, letting his essence fill my lungs and feeling not one bit guilty as I did so.

I then slowly, methodically dried every inch of my skin with his towel. Wave after wave of goose bumps rose at the thought of this very fabric caressing his naked body hours ago. My cheeks grew hot as a wicked thought entered my brain, then flamed red as I acted upon it. I pressed the towel between my legs and rubbed it back and forth, letting it arouse me further as it soaked up the creamy evidence. Even though he would never know I had left this part of me there with him, I would.

I donned his clothes finally with reverence, loving the way they softly enveloped me. Had he picked a thin white t-shirt on purpose? My nipples were easy to see through the flimsy fabric, and they were still erect from my erotic adventure with Edward’s towel. I already knew that one word, one kiss, would keep me here with him for hours, Jake and his band be damned.

I felt suddenly embarrassed at my behavior as I left the bathroom. Edward eyed me awkwardly as well, his eyes unsurprisingly fixated on my breasts. The sexual tension between us was getting almost comical at this point. When he hastily grabbed my discarded clothes and disappeared with them, I wondered if he would fondle them before putting them in the dryer, the way I had practically masturbated with his towel. We were ridiculous.

I shook my head, trying to clear it, and began to peruse his music collection. I love that he owns vinyl records--a lot of the same ones I have that were yours. More and more, it seemed like fate had led me here, although I certainly wished there had been a less painful way than throwing my back out to do it.

When Edward returned, I begged him to show me his guitars. When I discovered that he actually has a baby grand piano in that massive loft of his, I nearly creamed myself again. And that was nothing to the reaction I had when he actually sat down and played that gorgeous instrument.

He chose another song I love. He sang it to me as I sat next to him on the piano bench, and it was so profoundly beautiful that I nearly wept. I felt as close to him, as trusting, as I did earlier in the afternoon when I told him about you. Obtuse as he is, he tried to apologize for making me cry. I told him he doesn’t know what he does to me. Whatever he thinks he knows feels like only the tip of the iceberg. He tried to tell me I have it backwards, when clearly I don’t. Because when it came time to put those feelings into practice, he backed off.

I actually asked him to kiss me. I could barely utter the words, but my need was so palpable, I couldn’t help but beg. He said that he was afraid that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Didn’t he understand that I didn’t want him to stop? My body, my mind, my heart were all screaming “go.”

Edward said “stop.”

At least, he may as well have. He brought up Jake again. Jake, who had barely entered my mind all day; Jake, who is inconsequential in relation to my feelings for Edward. Why dinner with an old friend annoyed Edward so much is beyond me, especially when I made it clear all afternoon who I wanted to spend more time with. If Edward was that jealous or upset over Jake, then why not kiss me and claim me? He could have hoisted me up on the piano and fucked me then and there, Pretty-Woman-style, and I would have loved every minute of it.

Instead, he pointed out that I didn’t have that much time to get ready for my “date” with Jake. I got the message, loud and clear. The problem was, I couldn’t make any sense of it. His mixed signals were really starting to confuse me and wear on my nerves. As he drove me back to the office where my car was parked, I listened to “Doctor” Cullen make small talk in that politely detached tone of his that now made me want to scratch his gorgeous green eyes out. I couldn’t figure it out what went wrong. What was he so afraid of? It couldn’t be the doctor/patient thing standing in our way anymore. Surely he knew I would never report him, and no one needed to be the wiser.

I remembered what Rosalie said: that there was fear in Edward’s eyes. I had seen it too, lurking, sometimes spilling out when he let his guard down. Who had hurt him? Did it have something to do with the “painful events” that Alice and Emmett had hinted at? He still hadn’t even told me about his waylaid plans to be a doctor, let alone allude to any other past disappointments. I had bared my soul to him about you, as much as I could, anyway. When would he have that same kind of trust in me?

I took one last stab at making him see that he could. I asked him to meet me later that night, after the “work” part of my evening was done. He insisted on using my non-date with Jake as his excuse and his shield. I finally snapped and told him that I wasn’t the one who had hurt him in the past, and that if he wanted to stop treating me like I was, he knew where to find me.

I was shaking as I got in my car. Shaking and crying. All day Edward and I had seemed to be standing on the brink of something incredible together, and then he pulled the rug out from under me. I couldn’t believe it.

I was glad that Angela was spending the weekend at Ben’s, because I didn’t want to rehash everything so right and then suddenly wrong with my almost-perfect day. Yet I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing again as I stood in the shower, washing all evidence of Edward’s touch and smell from my body, save for the plastic bandage stuck to my knee. I refused to remove that, no matter how wet it got. I shaved carefully around it as if it were a shrine. I cursed Edward Cullen for making me worship a fucking Band-Aid. Maybe being mad at him would be easier than being sad.

I put that philosophy into practice as I stormed around the house, getting ready. I ransacked the closet, trying to something both funky but a little dressier than usual, since Java Noise VP’s Mike and Sam would be there. It’s not like there’s really a dress code at our little label, but it never hurts to try to look a little more polished around the higher-ups.

I finally settled on a fitted menswear-style jacket over my v-necked tee and skinny jeans. I tried not to think of how Edward’s white t-shirt would have looked great with this ensemble. I dressed the outfit up with a little more silver jewelry than I normally wear, then dressed it down with my favorite fire-engine red Converse high-tops. I knew Rosalie would be wearing a similar outfit but with mile-high stacked heels, a concession to fashion I was not quite willing to make.

I spent a little extra time on my hair, not because I necessarily wanted to, but because Jake wasn’t due at my door for another ten minutes and I needed to keep my hands busy. If I stopped and sat down for a minute, I knew I would lose it. Buy the time the doorbell rang, my hair was large and in charge. I tried to tame it a bit, but it only got wilder the more I played with it. I gave up, grabbed my purse and headed for the door.

“Hey, babe. You look slammin’!” Jake exclaimed as I opened the door. The sight of his big, toothy grin was a relief. His easy warmth was just what I needed to settle me down and take my mind off of Edward. “You ready for an amazing evening?”

“You know what? I am,” I smiled as I took his arm.

We went for Italian this time, and I ordered a nice, soothing plate of fattening spinach ravioli. I intended to take comfort wherever I could find it tonight. I concentrated on paying attention to Jake this time, and felt myself getting swept up in his excitement once again as we looked forward to his band’s big evening. I told him a little more about what to expect if our company offered them a deal, and asked if he and the guys had made any progress in retaining some professional representation. I was grateful to get lost in “shop talk” for awhile, a place where I felt like I had a little control and expertise.

When we got to The Rusty Nail, Rosalie and Emmett were already there, as were half the Wolf Pack members. Jake went to help his bandmates finish the final set-up onstage as I headed to the table my boss and her date had reserved. To my utter shock, she was sitting on his lap, her arm draped around his shoulders, her head bowed as she grinned and whispered something to him. She certainly looked cozy with the guy that she had reamed up one side and down the other only a week ago. She also looked a little disheveled and her cheeks were glowing. My eyes narrowed at her suspiciously as I approached.

“Hi Rose, Emmett,” I called cheerfully, trying not to let my current frustration with Edward have any bearing on my interaction with his brother.

“Bella!” he boomed with characteristic enthusiasm. “How’s it going?”

“Great,” I lied. “And you?”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he grinned, his arms wrapping around Rosalie and giving her a squeeze.

“Get your hands off my ass,” she growled at him.

“My hands aren’t on your ass, beautiful. You’ll know when they are.”

Rose made a big show of extricating herself from Emmett’s bear hug, smacking his broad hands away, when clearly she had no wish to go anywhere. Likewise, Emmett pretended to be wounded by her harmless slaps, when he probably enjoyed every one of them. They made an odd, yet somehow perfect pair. Was I stupid to wish for the same with Edward?

“I need to talk to Bella minute. Could you be a darling and go get us a pitcher?” Rose intoned sweetly as she rose from Emmett’s lap.

Emmett took an exaggerated breath. “Of course, sugarplum. I’ll be right back.” I didn’t miss the smack he gave her on the ass as he passed. She gasped and gave him a dirty look, which he roundly ignored.

“God, he makes me crazy,” she grunted, her eyes blazing with what looked like both irritation and lust as she watched his muscular backside saunter up to the bar. “I almost boned him outside the bar in that hideous pimpmobile of his. I don’t know what it is about him--he kissed me and I just lost it. Fucker,” she sighed.

Boy, I can relate, I thought. I was still startled when Rosalie confided in me like this, as if we were college besties instead of an employer and employee. I kind of liked it, though.

“How was your afternoon with Edward?” she asked as we took seats across from each other at the table. “I know you were hoping for big things. So… how big were they?” She wiggled her eyebrow suggestively.

I let out a rueful laugh. “I’m not privy to that information yet. Maybe never, the way things are going.”

Rose frowned. “I can tell he’s into you. Did he freak out at the last minute or something?”

My eyebrows raised in surprise. “Yeah, something like that. Things were going really well… almost too well. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. And it did.”

Rose shook her head. “I don’t know what kind of baggage he’s carrying around, but it seems like it’s an awfully heavy load. Are you sure you want to deal with it?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I sighed. “I just wish he would let me. Emmett hasn’t said anything about that, has he?”

“No, he hasn’t. We really didn’t talk much about Edward; just in passing, when he was telling me about his family. We haven’t gotten to the deep, dark secrets phase of our relationship yet.” She stopped and made a ghastly face. “Good God, did I just say the word ‘relationship,’ in reference to the Hulk?”

We both watched Emmett heading our direction, the pitcher and extra glass for me looking positively dainty in his capable hands. I giggled and said, “I’m pretty sure you did, Rose. Don’t look now, here comes your boyfriend.”

“Shut up,” she hissed, whacking me on the arm.

Emmett made a tut-tut noise as he approached. “So she hits you too, huh? The girl has an anger management problem. I have a few methods that I think would cure her, though,” he winked at me.

“You just keep your methods to yourself, doctor,” she advised as he settled into the seat next to hers.

Their banter was cut short by the arrival of Sam Uley, the Wolf Pack’s lead singer. After checking in with the band, he came and sat with us for a moment to go over the set list. The band had moved a few things around so that some of their more popular numbers would be in the first set, when our A&R and product development VP’s would be listening. They could always throw in a few covers in the second set, after the crowd had had a few drinks and would be more forgiving.

The ears of Mark Durham and Sam Watson must have been burning, because they arrived at the Rusty Nail right as Sam was about to rejoin his band on stage for a quick mic check. Instead, Rose and I introduced him to our bosses. He motioned for the rest of the Wolf Pack to join us, and we all settled in to talk a little business.

Emmett listened with interest as our VP’s discussed what they were looking for and what they would expect from the band if they agreed to sign with us. Mark and Sam are both forty-ish men who cut their teeth in the Seattle music business during the grunge movement of the early nineties. Mark had been the bassist in a modestly successful grunge band, while Sam had worked in tour management before switching to a job that would require less traveling. Between them, they’ve experienced both sides of the talent/management coin, and always try to work out a deal that suits both parties. I was confident that The Wolf Pack would be happy with our company, because we really go the extra mile to do artists justice in the studio and promote them in the most effective way possible.

As I glanced at Emmett, I couldn’t help but think that his brother was the one who should be here now, listening to the things we could offer him. Edward is such a unique talent, I know he could find an audience who would appreciate him the way I do. I wondered if Emmett would pass any of his newfound knowledge about our company to Edward. Did they even talk about things like this? Edward seems to be closer to Alice than to Emmett. I can imagine the Cullen brothers butting heads often over their different approaches, much like they did the day I met them.

After our impromptu little meeting ended, everyone rose from the table to shake hands and wish the band good luck. Jake found me and whispered, “I’m really glad these guys are here, but I gotta say, I’m nervous as hell.”

“I know,” I sympathized. “But just try to put the nervousness to good use and channel it into your playing. Just give it a hundred-and-ten percent. You’ve got nothing to lose.”

“I don’t know. The stakes are pretty big here. Bigger than we’re used to, anyway,” he said, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot.

“Jake, by the time these guys come listen to you, they’re already interested. They’ve heard the demo. I know you can blow that away with your live performance, because you have every time I’ve seen you. I believe in you. You’re going to be great,” I said emphatically.

Jacob’s dark eyes looked intensely into mine. “Thanks, Bells. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Suddenly, he leaned in and pressed his lips to my cheek, precariously close to my mouth. I barely had time to gasp as he whispered, “Wish me luck,” and bounded up to the stage.

I glanced quickly around our table to see if anyone had noticed. When my eyes found Rosalie’s, she lifted one eyebrow inquisitively at me. Shit. It was only a kiss on the cheek, right? Like friends give each other. I hated the thought that Edward might be right, and Jake hadn’t taken our little speech to heart.

I kept my composure and slid into the chair next to Rose, grateful for the glass of frothy lager that Emmett had just poured for me. I was beginning to feel like I’d need it. Still, I nursed it slowly during the first set, wary of letting the higher-ups see me drinking too much. I didn’t want to do or say anything stupid with my reputation on the line.

The Wolf Pack was completely on point, with an almost hyper-kinetic energy that got the crowd going early on. By the time they finished their blistering set an hour later, wild cheering reverberated around the club. They had more than convinced our VP’s, who had been nodding and commenting to each other throughout the show. Afterward, Mark and Sam asked Rose to escort them backstage to see the band, and I was both nervous and excited about what was about to go down.

That left Emmett and I alone at the table, which suddenly seemed awkward in light of what had happened earlier that day. He, of course, was none the wiser.

“So what’s the deal here, Bella? You don’t get to be in on the powwow backstage?

“Well, at this point I’m technically still Rosalie’s assistant,” I explained. “She’s the one who will get credit for signing the band. But I know she’ll have my back, and give me props for finding them. It’s fine. I’ve got to pay my dues like everyone else,” I shrugged.

“Well, you’re a lot more understanding than I would be,” Emmett commented as he emptied the last dregs of the pitcher between our two glasses. When he flagged down a waitress to order more, I excused myself to go to the ladies’ room at the back of the club.

I sat on the stool for a moment, jeans around my knees, absently picking at the puckered bandage still stuck to my right knee. Why did Edward always have to be right about everything? I saw it in Jake’s eyes right before he gave me that stealth peck on the cheek: that undeniable hunger. No, no, no. I didn’t want that from him. When Edward had given me that look, I had been elated. Coming from Jake, I felt only a vague dread deep in my gut. Someday I would have to nip this in the bud, once again.

Déjà vu gripped me as I thought, what if that’s what Edward had done with me tonight? No, that wasn’t possible. Too many things were said and done that told me my feelings for him were reciprocal. Something else was driving him away from me. I just wish I knew if it had anything at all to do with me. It would help if I knew what I was up against.

I pulled up my jeans and exited the stall, then checked myself in the mirror as I washed my hands. The girl standing next to me was running her hands over her ironed hair, making sure it hung in a perfect curtain down her front. By contrast, my wild waves had drooped a bit, but still looked as if a nest of baby squirrels might be living somewhere in the mess. I rifled through my handbag, looking for a brush, but came up empty. I sighed and tried finger-combing it a bit, then admitted defeat and slathered a thin coat of lip gloss on before heading out the door.

The club was jammed with people by now, and a long line had formed to the ladies’ room. I felt a little bad that I had taken a short sabbatical in my stall. Just as I pushed my way through the queue, I stepped into the path of someone heading for the bar, and we nearly collided.

“Sorry,” I mumbled as I stopped short and glanced up at his face. He was nice-looking, with a blond ponytail and piercing blue eyes. But his features barely registered with me as my eyes drifted over his shoulder to the man towering behind him. His bronze hair was shaggy and disheveled, which I knew must be from his inability to keep his hands out of it. He gave me a heavy-lidded, jade-green stare as his cherry lips curled slowly into an amused smirk. The smell of whiskey and beer rolled off of him and his friend in waves as they stood leering down at me.

“Well hello, Miss Swan,” slurred Edward Cullen. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Massage Therapy, Chapter 9 - Rationale, part 2

Edward Cullen's Little Black Notebook
Saturday, August 7 (cont'd.)

After the group of hikers had passed, Bella and I managed to continue walking under a two-ton blanket of silence. What was it about this girl that made me feel like a bumbling teenager again? She was no better, staring fixedly at the path ahead of us like it might disappear if she looked in any other direction. I knew I would have to be the one to speak first.

“Well, that has to be some kind of record for incredibly bad timing,” I offered at last.

“I think you’re right,” Bella agreed with a relieved-sounding laugh, finally glancing up at me. “I guess these trails aren’t as private as you thought.”

“Foiled again,” I joked. “I should have brought you here on a rainy day instead.”

She grinned, then grew quiet for a moment. “So…you really think I’m beautiful?” she asked, looking up at me uncertainly. “Not that I’m fishing for compliments--”

“Yes,” I cut her off emphatically. “Empirically beautiful, at that.”

She caught my teasing tone and narrowed her eyes at me. “Shut up.”

“’Empirically beautiful’…that’s a new one,” I repeated, enjoying giving her a hard time. Humor seemed to be diffusing the tension between us. “That’s not possible, you know. Beauty can be neither proved nor disproved. It’s purely subjective. In the eye of the beholder, as they say.”

“Edward, there isn’t a girl alive who wouldn’t find you attractive,” Bella insisted.

“I’m sure that’s not true. But it doesn’t matter anyway. There’s only one girl whose opinion matters to me, and apparently she thinks I’m perfect, so that’s good enough for me.”

“Ha! No, no, no. Good looks do not equal perfection. Don’t put words in my mouth,” she warned.

“Well, I tried to put something else in there, but I got interrupted.”

That did it. Her mouth dropped open in a surprised laugh as she punched me playfully on the arm. Her cheeks turned a most delicious shade of pink, like cotton candy.

“Ouch!” I exclaimed, shaking my arm as if her harmless swing had actually done damage. “Does that mean you don’t want me to try it again?” I continued, feeling more reckless by the minute.

“No. I mean yes. I mean….” she trailed off, flustered, and shook her head vigorously. “You confuse the hell out of me, Edward,” she finally sighed in defeat.

I answered her sigh with my own and raked my fingers through my hair. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to. It’s just… whatever this is between us kind of puts me in an ethical dilemma,” I admitted. “That’s why I’ve been resisting spending time with you; getting any closer to you.”

Her teeth worried her bottom lip again as she studied me. “Then why did you ask me here today? Is getting me out in the fresh air just part of my recovery?”

I let out a wry chuckle. “That’s what I like to tell myself. But the truth is, I just want to know you better. And right now that seems to be outweighing every argument against it that I can think of.”

The Mona Lisa smile played at her lips again. “I’m glad. I want that too. Ever since I saw you singing that first night… I can’t shake the feeling I got. I see a lot of musicians, and it’s not very often that someone moves me the way you did. Whatever it is inside you that you unleashed that night… that’s what I want; to understand where that came from. That’s the Edward I want to know,” she finished quietly.

My footsteps slowed as her words sank in. So all she wanted was to take a flashlight to the blackest parts of my soul; to pull my heart out of my chest and feel the gristle throb and squirm in her dainty fist. That’s all.

A sweat broke out on my forehead and I suddenly felt warm. I spied a park bench up ahead in a patch of dappled sunlight, and I took it as an opportunity to stop and get my head together.

“Are you hungry?” I asked hopefully. “This looks like a good place to stop and have lunch.” I motioned to the wooden bench as we approached.

“Yeah, sure,” she agreed. I was thankful that she didn’t press me any further.

We settled on the park bench and I rummaged through my backpack, withdrawing our lunch and the bottled water.

“You know you ordered my favorite,” I told her as I handed her one of the identically wrapped sandwiches.

“Really? Well, that must be a sign then, right?” I was glad that there was a lightness to her tone, as if she were only joking, even if she wasn’t.

“Clearly,” I agreed. “We’ll never have to argue over what to have for dinner.”

“Exactly. Or what to listen to. So far, I’d say we have the same taste in music. Although mine is pretty eclectic,” she said, taking a bite of her sandwich.

“So is mine,” I told her. “Surprise,” I added dryly.

We ate in silence for a moment, watching as a pair of joggers huffed and puffed their way past us.

“So how do you decide what songs to sing?” Bella asked after they were out of earshot, her eyes curious as she waited for my reply.

“Well, it helps if they’re easily adaptable to acoustic guitar. And not so tough that I can’t learn them,” I chuckled. “But mostly I like to sing songs that have meaning to me. Lyrics that speak to me in some way. That’s why I sing some of my own material, too. A song has to have a kind of essential truth to it. If I can’t connect with it in some way, it’s not worth doing.”

She nodded and said, “I figured as much. That’s what makes you such an authentic performer. I’m guessing it can be pretty cathartic, especially if the music is your own. I loved that original song you sang that night. The one about the sea of red. It seemed like you really dug deep for that one. It was so intense, so… visceral.”

I looked into her admiring eyes and wanted to tell her how well she had guessed the truth: that the sea of red was my own blood and tears and dismal failure pouring out of me in that moment. But I couldn’t seem to make my mouth form the words. She was already getting too close to the scar tissue binding that old wound shut.

She took another bite of her sandwich and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. I did the same, though my appetite was waning. Lately I had thought of nothing but getting close to this girl, and now that the moment was at hand, I could feel myself closing up like a clam protecting its tender innards.

“Edward, do you remember when you asked me about the car accident?” she said quietly, not looking at me. She crunched a potato chip between her teeth, making me wait until she had swallowed. “You wondered if something else had happened that day. You asked me about emotional scars.”

I nodded and braced myself for whatever was coming.

“Well, you were right,” she said, lifting determined eyes to mine. “I wasn’t alone in the car. I was with my mom.”

My heart sank as I realized what she was about to tell me. I didn’t want to hear her struggle to say the words, but I knew she needed to do it.

“We were driving on a main thoroughfare through our suburb, going through the intersection…for some reason the lights weren’t working. They were stuck. They didn’t change in time, but we didn’t know, we didn’t realize…. This huge truck… it was just right there, all of a sudden… like it came out of nowhere.” Her words were halting, her eyes distant, reliving the horror. “She was gone in an instant. Right after it happened, I was still conscious. I looked over at her, and I knew.”

Her eyes brimmed with tears, but she held them back. I had to hold back my own as well. My heart broke for her. I wanted to take away her pain but knew I was powerless. I knew only too well.

“Bella,” I whispered, reaching a hand out to console her, sweeping the hair from her face and resting my hand gently against her neck. I’m sorry seemed trite, almost insulting. I tried to convey my empathy through my expression, my touch.

“I moved to my dad’s house in Forks because I had nowhere else to go. It wasn’t so bad,” she said with a wan smile. “He and I are a lot alike. He didn’t push. He just let me… be. To deal with it in my own way, in my own time. I even saw a psychiatrist for awhile,” she admitted. “But at some point, there’s nothing more anyone can say or do for you. It is what it is.”

She paused for a moment and frowned into her water bottle. “The worst part was that I didn’t just lose my mom. I lost my best friend. I told her everything.”

My fingers found her face, gently stroking her cheek. One tear finally spilled over from the well of her left eye and streamed into my waiting hand. I wiped it away as her eyes searched for strength in mine.

She must have found it, because she suddenly laughed and said, “You want to hear something crazy? I still tell her everything. I write to her all the time. I just get on my computer and pour out all the mundane details of my life in these long-winded letters that she’ll never read. But sometimes it feels like she’s there, reading over my shoulder, you know?”

I know. God, how I know. I was screaming to tell her. How could I keep it from her, now that I knew just how much we really had in common?

But this was her mother she’d lost. There was no comparison. She didn’t need to deal with my confessions now.

“It’s not crazy,” I told her, my thumb caressing her cheek, reassuring her. “I understand better than you think. And if you feel her looking over your shoulder sometimes, it’s probably because she is.” I wasn’t sure what I believed about heaven and hell. But I wanted to believe that Bella’s mother could be a comforting presence to her, because she deserved it.

“I like to think that,” Bella said, the side of her mouth curving upward in a sad smile. “Anyway, you have your answer now. I definitely have ‘an emotional scar.’ Probably more than one. So now you know what you’re dealing with.”

My own words echoed back to me from our dinner at the Turkish restaurant. She had come clean with me and answered my questions at last. I knew that my turn would come eventually.

“I’m glad you told me,” I said softly, my fingers straying to her temple, stroking her hair. “I don’t know what it’s like to lose a parent, but I do know what it’s like to lose someone too soon. It’s never fair, and it leaves you wondering why. I think you are incredibly strong and brave. And I want to help you get even stronger.”

She reached up and put her hand over mine, her fingers warm as they gripped my wrist. “You already have,” she whispered. “And I’m not just talking about the massage therapy.”

I took her hand in mine and laced my fingers through hers, gripping them tightly. I wished I could will her to recover completely, to be whole and undamaged again. But how could I do that for her when I couldn’t even do it for myself?

“Edward,” she said softly, my name wafting like angel’s breath from her lips. “I know there’s something you’re not telling me. But it’s okay. I’ll never pressure you. I just want you to know that whatever your story is, you can trust me with it.”

I gazed at her beautiful face and wondered how I got so lucky. She was too good to be true. Too good for me, at any rate.

“I do trust you. It’s not about that,” I assured her. I stared at our hands joined together, mine dwarfing hers. I didn’t want my demons to do the same.

“Let’s leave my stories for another time,” I implored. “It’s too nice a day to get caught up in the past anymore. You know what they say about the present, right?”

“No, what?”

“It’s a gift.” I tried to keep a straight face, but couldn’t stop the snicker that escaped.

“Present…gift. Ha, ha,” she said, drawing out the fake laughs at the end.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“It’s actually true, though,” she smiled, giving my hand a squeeze. I nodded and squeezed back, then reluctantly disengaged my fingers from hers.

“So, why don’t we finish up this lunch and then head back out to the loop?” I suggested. “The view of Rainier from there is pretty sweet. We can start planning our climbing expedition. Because after we’ve conquered the rest of the parks and forests around here, I know you’ll be itching for a bigger challenge.”

“You’re hilarious. I was wrong; you should be a comedian instead of a singer,” she said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

“I’m a regular Renaissance man. Too bad we don’t have any apples so I can impress you with my juggling act.”

“Really now,” she snorted, eyeing me doubtfully. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Would I kid you about something like that?”

She scrutinized my face carefully. “Yes, I think you would.”

“You have a suspicious mind. Eat your sandwich,” I ordered with a grin.

“Yes, sir,” she replied, taking an exaggerated bite. “You’re kind of bossy, you know that?”

“It has been brought to my attention a time or two,” I admitted, sinking my teeth into my own chipotle chicken.

“It’s disturbingly sexy,” she said, giving me a provocative sideways glance.

The mouthful of sandwich I’d been chewing suddenly plummeted down my esophagus in one surprised gulp. “You really shouldn’t have said that. I might start telling you what to do more often.”

She looked unperturbed. “Just because you tell me to do something doesn’t mean I have to do it.”

“Now, see, that’s exactly the kind of insolent behavior that just eggs me on. Be forewarned.”

She only giggled. “I’m not afraid of you, Edward.”

But I’m terrified of you.
I didn’t let it show. I merely raised a warning eyebrow at her, tempered with a smirk.

We kept the conversation light from then on. I was pleased that Bella didn’t pass on dessert, wolfing down her cheesecake brownie with gusto and making some rather distracting noises of pleasure as she did so. She didn’t seem to hold back with me anymore, and the thrill it gave me rivaled the fear of giving in myself.

By the time we made it back to the paved path that circled the island, I had learned that Bella adores the color blue, hates getting up in the morning, loves Gruyere cheese “even though it smells like vomit,” doesn’t own a pair of high-heeled shoes, and favors Gerbera daisies “because they’re so cheerful,” though lilacs came in at a close second because of their scent. Likewise, she was now privy to my preference for used, well-washed clothes (they’re softer); my dislike of shaving; my recurring addiction to the Discovery channel; my penchant for books about the supernatural; and my irrational hatred of dolls (they’re creepy, eyes always following you with that unblinking, glassy stare.) We share a love--inherited from our parents--of old Loony Tunes and Monty Python episodes, 60s and 70s music, and 80s teen flicks (they broke the mold after John Hughes.)

We were two old souls finding common ground as we traveled the winding trail back to the main path. I lost all track of time and place; there was only Bella beside me, her presence overwhelming all my senses, rendering me senseless. So I was surprised when we emerged from our shroud of green to a bank of clouds being pushed our way by a strong wind whipping over Lake Washington. Our sunny Seattle day had given way to its perpetually gloomy counterpart, and thunder began to roll in like a bowling ball aiming for its hapless pins.

“I suppose we ought to head back for the car,” I said reluctantly. “It’s still a good half-mile back to the parking lot.”

“I guess so,” Bella agreed, sounding as unhappy about the prospect as I did. “I probably need to get back to my place before too long anyway. I have to get ready for tonight.”

“What’s tonight?” I asked, suddenly uneasy.

“I guess I didn’t tell you, did I? Rosalie convinced two of our bosses to check out The Wolf Pack tonight at the Rusty Nail, so we all have to be there,” she said, making it sound more like an obligation than something she really wanted to do.

“That’s great news, right? You must be excited.”

“Yeah, of course I am. I’m just not really anxious to cut our day short,” she explained, giving me a sideways smile.

I tried to curb my satisfied grin. “Well, it’s only two-thirty,” I said as I pulled my cell phone out and checked the time. “What time do you have to be there?”

“The show’s not until nine, but I told Jake I’d meet him for dinner first to go over a few things. He’s got about a million questions for me. He’s wound tighter than an eight-day alarm clock right now,” she laughed.

All I heard was that Bella was having dinner with Jacob Black. Again.

“So what time do you have to meet him?” I asked at last, trying in vain to sound nonchalant.

“He’s picking me up at six-thirty, so we still have plenty of time,” she answered brightly.

All I heard was that that gym monkey had managed to finagle another date with Bella without her even being aware of what he was up to. Or was she? My mind began to seethe with unwelcome thoughts.

I looked at my watch and figured I had less than two hours left of my afternoon with her, and half of it would be taken up in drive time. I began to mentally curse the encroaching clouds. As if in retribution, large drops of rain began to splatter the pavement around us, one hitting me square on the tip of my nose.

“Shit,” I mumbled, picking up the pace. I could see the parking lot in the far distance, but it was still likely we’d be soaked by the time we arrived at my car.

“I guess we shouldn’t be surprised,” Bella sighed, hurrying to keep up with me. Despite the height difference between us, her legs were nearly as long as mine. Thinking about that drove me crazy, but it was impossible to ignore as I glanced down at her ivory legs pumping swiftly next to mine.

We had nearly made it to the lot when the sky opened up, pouring a deluge of cold water on all of us hapless humans, who began racing to their cars.

“Should we make a run for it?” I nearly had to shout over the sound of the torrential rain hitting the pavement.

Bella nodded and I grabbed her hand. I remembered where I had parked the Volvo, and I steered us in that direction as we ran between the rows of cars, water splashing up around our ankles and soaking our socks and shoes. Bella let out a kind of laugh or scream as we tried in vain to beat the downpour, and we began to run faster.

Suddenly, I felt a hard tug on my fingers, and her hand was abruptly wrenched free of mine. I looked down to see Bella sprawled on her hands and knees; she had slipped on the slick pavement and fallen.

I crouched quickly in front of her, gasping, “Are you okay?”

She squinted through the rain into my frantic face and began to laugh. “I’m fine. I do this all the time.”

I helped her to her feet and looked her over; her right knee was raw and oozing droplets of blood, which quickly mixed with the rainwater and trickled in rivulets down her leg. She winced as she put weight on it, and I began to fear she had twisted her ankle.

“You’re not fine,” I told her. Before she could protest, I scooped her up in my arms and held her tight against me while I hurried as fast as I could to the car. I set her down gently outside the passenger door as I fumbled in my pocket for my keys. As soon as the car was unlocked, I eased her into the passenger seat, slammed the door shut and zoomed around the car to slide in behind the wheel.

Panting slightly, I pushed my wet hair out of my eyes and looked worriedly over at Bella. She was grinning at me much like a Cheshire cat, albeit a rather drowned-looking one.

“What?” I demanded.

“That was very heroic of you. Very sweet. Considering all I did was scrape my knee,” she giggled.

“Are you sure? How’s your ankle?” I reached over and pulled her right leg gently upward, twisting her body toward mine. I gingerly examined the bones above her foot, then glanced up to see her still-amused expression as she watched me.

“My ankle is fine,” she insisted. “In fact, it’s feeling pretty happy right now, all things considered.” She nodded toward my hands still circling her leg.

Geezus, this girl was going to be the death of me. Well, two could play at that game.

I slid my hands slowly up her calf and gently cupped the back of her knee, placing my thumbs on either side of the ugly scrape beaded with blood. “It’s a good thing I brought the first aid kit, after all.”

Here eyes were dark and luminous, her wet lashes stuck together in clumps. I’d never seen her look so pretty. Her vibrant pink mouth seemed to beckon to me as she slowly bit her lip. It was all I could do to let go of her long enough to disentangle myself from my backpack and find the first aid kit.

She said nothing as I cleaned the blood and rain from her leg with a hydrogen peroxide-soaked gauze pad. I dabbed first aid ointment lightly on the raw skin, quickly checking her face for signs of pain. Her brow furrowed slightly and her lips pressed together tightly, but she made no sound. Stoic. I knew she would be.

I finished by covering the area with another scrap of clean gauze and fastening it in place with a large bandage. “How’s that?” I asked softly.

“Perfect,” she whispered. “Thank you, Doctor Cullen.”

I exhaled in a quick laugh. “I may not be a doctor, but I did get my Boy Scout badge in first aid.”

“You’re a doctor as far as I’m concerned. No one’s ever healed me the way you do.”

Something in her voice made me wonder if one of my siblings had been talking to her, telling her things. My eyes narrowed as I studied her. She knew I had planned to be a doctor. And in that moment, she knew that I knew. Her eyes were curious but patient. I was at a loss.

Bella saved me. “You did, however, forget one very important thing,” she accused with mock severity.

“What’s that?”

“You have to kiss it to make it better.” Her eyes gleamed with mischief.

My grin was irrepressible. “Far be it from me to impede the healing process with such negligence.” I gently lifted her leg while I bent my head down. I placed a gentle kiss right below the bandage, one to each side, and one above before resting my lips on the plastic tape directly over the wound. When I raised my eyes to hers, her lids were heavy, her lips parted, waiting. Wanting. The same way, the same thing that I wanted.

I lowered her leg to the car seat, placing my hand next to her thigh. My body was twisted to face her as I leaned in, my mouth zeroing in on hers with missile-like precision. Her breath was coming fast, in shallow bursts, mingling with mine as our lips drew closer. Her eyes were open, sweeping the length of my face and back up again, taking me in as I was her. Neither of us let our lids flutter closed until contact was made; and at that first meeting of soft against soft, our lips uttered tiny moans in unison, as if the release was too much to bear in silence.

I tilted my head slightly for better access, not satisfied with just a taste this time. My mouth opened against hers, my hungry tongue sliding between her lips, demanding entrance. It met no resistance as she responded in kind, her sweet tongue coming to meet mine, eager to begin this dance.

I moaned again when I felt her hands on my face, gently stroking the shadow on my jaw before settling into the wet curls behind my ears. The kiss went on in maddening slow motion, a mutual exploration of this delicious new territory that neither of us was eager to end. I reached toward her with my right hand as best I could, caressing the soft line of her cheek and following it down to the hollow of her neck. My mouth would not be swayed from its target, lips instinctively feeling for hers, tongue tasting and searching and memorizing this new playground. The resulting sensations traveled like shockwaves through my body, each rolling into the next so that I couldn’t discern where one ended and the next began. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d experienced a kiss this significant, this memorable. Perhaps I never had.

Our breathing was even more labored than before as we finally paused to catch our breath, though each other’s was infinitely more desirable. Her fingers were feather-light as she stroked my face, yet the reverberations shook me down to my core. I wanted her hands all over me, her body wrapped around me. I was ready to pull her on my lap and take her right there in the parking lot, the pouring rain outside camouflaging the view of our bodies from prying eyes. My thoughts were chaotic as I stared at her wildly for a moment, seriously considering it.

Bella’s eyes were round as she looked into mine, slightly surprised but unafraid at the intensity she found there. I closed my lids and took a deep breath, needing to gain control, reign myself in. I didn’t know how much longer I could balance on the edge of this knife blade. I was very nearly ready and willing to freefall for her.

Bella’s hands continued their gentle, soothing strokes along my cheeks, my jaw, my neck. When I finally looked at her, her eyes were my anchor.

“It worked,” she said softly, a small smile playing at her lips.

“What worked?” I asked, my voice ragged.

“My knee stopped hurting.” She paused while I relaxed and managed a chortle. “In fact, I’m not really sure I have knees anymore. I think they might be Jell-o now.”

And just like that, Bella allowed me to rationalize our entire first kiss away as nothing more than my doctor’s duty. I had kissed her hurt and made it all better. I knew that I had become truly delusional if were trying to keep up any pretense of physician’s protocol now. But it was the only thing making me pull away from Bella and start the car so I would take her home instead of having my way with her in the back seat.

I glanced over and saw her shiver slightly as she folded her arms around her middle. She was still sopping wet, her ponytail a bedraggled mess hanging over one shoulder, her rigid nipples clearly visible through her soaked t-shirt. Shit. Why did I have to notice that now?

I forced my eyes northward to hers. “Are you cold? I can turn on the heat.”

She shook her head. “I’m just missing you next to me.”

Double shit. “I’m really trying to actually leave this parking lot and get you home safely. You are making that very difficult,” I finally admitted in exasperation.

“I’m sorry,” she said, not sounding very sorry at all. “I think you injected me with truth serum sometime during that kiss.”

“Really? Interesting. I’m going to have to deliberate on how to use that to my advantage,” I said as I checked the mirrors and backed out of our parking spot.

“Ask me anything,” she said bravely.

“Okay,” I said, taking her up on the offer. “Why did you agree to have dinner with Jacob Black again?”

The exasperation was hers this time. “It’s not a date. I told you, it’s work.”

“I’ll bet you a recording contract that Jacob doesn’t see it that way at all.”

She shook her head vehemently. “I made it perfectly clear where we stand. He knows this is strictly business. Well, and friendship. We’ve always been friends.”

“So he did try something last weekend,” I surmised, feeling vindicated. I glanced over at her guilty face and got my answer.

“Look. I just explained to him that business and pleasure do not mix. It’s a recipe for disaster. I don’t want to risk losing his friendship, or souring the business relationship. Besides, I don’t have those kinds of feelings for him,” she ended staunchly.

“You’re absolutely right, about all of it,” I agreed, wondering if she would see the irony.

She was quiet a moment. “And yes, it did not escape me that that’s probably how you’ve been feeling about me this whole time.”

“Right again. Except for the part about my feelings for you,” I said quietly. I kept my eyes on the road as we merged onto Columbian, but I could feel her gaze burning through me.

“Well, then. We’ll just have to figure something out,” she said matter-of-factly.

I tried to stifle my guffaw and settled for smiling and shaking my head. She made it sound laughably simple. Maybe it was. Maybe I should just say “fuck it” and do whatever I pleased.

I turned the car’s fan up a bit, but it was no match for our damp clothing. My jeans were feeling uncomfortably stiff and cold next to my legs, and I couldn’t wait to get home and change into dry clothes.

“Hey,” I said as an idea dawned. “My place actually isn’t that far from here. Why don’t we go there and throw your clothes in the dryer? I don’t want you to spend the next hour soaking wet while I take you to your car and you drive home.”

“Oh,” she said in surprise. “Sure, that sounds great.”

I took a mental inventory of how I’d left the loft that morning. It wasn’t too messy. I generally keep things simple and uncluttered so I don’t have a lot to clean. I was reasonably sure I wouldn’t be embarrassed to have her see my place right now.

We grew quiet as I neared the industrial district and took the exit to my neighborhood. I was glad to see that the worst of the rainstorm had passed, and only a few stray droplets were now hitting the windshield. Bella finally spoke as we passed the old factories and crumbling brick buildings.

“This is where you live?” she asked incredulously.

In answer, I turned the corner and pulled up in one of several vacant parallel parking spots in front of the old Cullen mill that I now called home. I smiled at the confusion on her face as I turned off the engine. I quickly got out and went to her side of the car, opening the door and extending my hand.

“Welcome to Casa Cullen,” I grinned.

She said nothing as she put her hand in mine and let me pull her from the front seat. I kept my fingers entwined with hers as I unlocked the main entrance and led her through the cavernous, empty main floor to the service elevator.

“It’s a good thing I trust you,” she joked as the lift chugged and trundled up to the third floor. “It feels like there’s not a soul around.”

“Well, on a Saturday, there’s probably not,” I admitted. I raised a provocative eyebrow at her and gave her a lewd smirk.

“Stop,” she ordered, letting go of my hand in order to give my shoulder a half-hearted shove. I laughed and put my arm around her as the elevator ground to a halt.

When I unlocked the heavy door to the loft, I barely pushed it open before indignant meowing met our ears. Lucky had been asleep on the couch when I left this morning, so I’d left him inside. He voiced his displeasure at being held captive as soon as we entered the room.

“Oh, this must be Lucky!” Bella exclaimed, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him. “He’s beautiful.”

“He cleaned up all right,” I shrugged. The cat was entranced with the arrival of someone new into his sphere--someone who might have better food to eat, or a softer lap to sit on. He wasted no time rubbing his scent of ownership all over Bella’s bare legs. She merely laughed and knelt down to pet him, immediately finding his favorite spot to be scratched, under his chin. He responded by throwing himself at her feet, writhing and rubbing himself all over her shoes in a most shameless manner.

“Look at how fickle this cat is,” I exclaimed. “See if I ever give you salmon again, Benedict Arnold.”

“Aw, don’t listen to him, Lucky,” Bella cooed as she crouched down and rubbed his belly while he purred loudly. “You know where to come for some good lovin’.”

Most happily married couples I know always say they have a moment when “they knew.” That moment when it struck them that this was the real deal; this was “the one.” I always thought it was horse hockey. And then I watched my cat fall in love with Bella, and there it was.

I Knew.

I took a deep breath and did the only sensible thing: I fled the scene. I excused myself to my bedroom to find something for Bella to wear while I dried her clothes. I found my smallest plain t-shirt and pair of drawstring sweats, figuring she could tie them tight around her tiny waist.

I returned to break up the Lucky love fest and show Bella to the bathroom so she could change. Once back in my bedroom, I peeled off my own damp clothes, trying not to imagine her doing the same in the next room. My dick was already at half-mast and had been on and off ever since we kissed. It wasn’t used to the celibacy I had imposed upon it the past few months, nor was it used to being tied to my emotions anymore. It was as confused and aroused as the rest of me. I grabbed a baggy pair of sweats to camouflage its flexing muscles, then threw on one of my arsenal of faded, threadbare t-shirts.

As I returned to the open living area, Bella emerged shyly from the bathroom, a diminutive version of me in her matching outfit. I was a thin guy, but my clothes hung on her like sacks. Yet the thin, soft cotton of the shirt I’d given her still clung tenaciously to her slight curves, its v-neck exposing an expanse of creamy skin between petite breasts pointing subtly up at me on either side. I had never seen anything in my life as sexy as Bella wearing my clothes. When I looked at her wet garments balled up between her hands and realized she had no underwear on, my dick lost all sense of propriety.

“Here, let me take those,” I offered, quickly reaching out and taking her discarded clothing. I made a beeline for the far end of the loft, which housed the odd combination of my laundry area and a gym of sorts, complete with weights, a treadmill and a boxing bag. I sorted her impossibly small shorts, shirt, underwear and socks and put them in the dryer. I tried not to finger her pastel cotton bikinis and bra too long, though it was ridiculously tempting to do so. I realized that her cotton panties where trimmed with lace, and I remembered the times I had felt it beneath the shield of flannel during our massage sessions. She had split the difference between no-nonsense comfort and sexiness with one effortless choice.

The One.

I ran my fingers roughly through my damp hair, trying to rub some sense into my ridiculous brain. I inhaled deeply and went back to the living room. I found Bella peering at my stacks of CD’s and vinyl albums, piled high up the walls in various shelving units. At its center was my piecemeal stereo, comprised of an old turntable, cassette and CD player, an iPod docking station and everything in between.

“You have records!” she marveled, her fingers flipping through the cardboard covers.

“I like to listen to old stuff on vinyl,” I admitted. “I love the sound, so rich and warm. I even like the scratches and pops.”

“Me too,” she enthused. She stopped and pulled out a Carole King album. “I can’t believe you own this.”

“I have Joni Mitchell, too,” I laughed, unashamed.

“I still have all my mom’s old albums,” she said. “I couldn’t bear to part with them. I didn’t want to, anyway. She had great taste.”

“So did my parents, and aunts and uncles. I’ve always liked old music. I love to go to the few record stores that still exist and look at all the vintage vinyl. Sometimes I think I was born too late.”

“I’m glad you were, or I would have missed you,” she said. I barely had time to register the comment before she discovered my punk rock collection and began squealing over original editions of The Clash, the Ramones and the Stooges.

“I wish I had time to stay and listen to some of these,” she said wistfully.

“You can come back, you know,” I smiled.

“Can I?” she asked. We hadn’t really determined how we were going to “figure something out.”

“Of course.” I already didn’t want her to leave.

“So where do you keep your guitars?” she asked. “I know you must have more than one.”

“You’re good,” I grinned. I led her out of the living room, past the bathroom and partitioned-off bedroom, and back to the open end of the loft. My five guitars, another old sofa, stacks of music and a baby grand piano resided not far from the hum of the dryer at the end of the huge space.

Her eyes swept the length of the room, quickly taking in the gym and laundry appliances, then growing round as they settled on the piano. Apparently all thoughts of my guitars were gone.

“You play this?” she gasped, walking toward it and running her fingers lightly along the polished lid.

“Since I was a kid,” I replied. “Mom made us all take music lessons. Piano was my choice. Guitar came later.”

“I can’t believe you have this in here,” she whispered in awe. “This is beautiful.”

“It sounds pretty nice, especially with these acoustics,” I answered, motioning to the high ceilings.

“Will you play something for me?” she pleaded, her voice small and childlike.

“Sure. What do you want to hear?” I asked as I followed her and pulled out the bench.

“Anything. Whatever you want.”

“Well, I’ve got all the classical music I learned as a kid in the piano bench,” I began. “But, there is a song I’ve been trying to learn. Don’t laugh too hard if I mess it up.”

“I’d never laugh at you,” she said. “With you, maybe,” she added with a laugh.

I sat down and pulled the bench up to the keyboard, then motioned for Bella to sit next to me. Her eyes were bright with anticipation as she scooted onto the bench. I tried to quell the queasiness that rippled through my belly every time I was about to perform, let alone a private show for someone whose opinion already meant to much to me.

As soon as the melancholy chords of the song began to flow from my fingers, I felt myself calm down a little. The words came easily then, because at this moment, they could have been my own.

There's one way out and one way in
Back to the beginning
There's one way back to home again
To where I feel forgiven

What is this I feel, why is it so real
What am I to say

It's only love, it's only pain
It's only fear, that run through my veins
It's all the things we can't explain
That make us human

I am just an image of something so much greater
I am just a picture frame, I am not the painter
Where do I begin, can I shed this skin
What is this I feel within

It's only love, it's only pain
It's only fear that runs through my veins
It's all the things you can't explain
That make us human


After the last chords drifted off into the silence, I slowly looked at Bella, who sat still as a stone next to me. She seemed slightly stunned as she looked at me; her eyes were filled with tears.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” I apologized instantly. The last thing I wanted was to make her sad again, after what she had revealed to me earlier.

“Edward,” she said softly, shaking her head at me as if I were completely daft. “You don’t even know what a gift you have.”

“Bella,” I replied evenly. “You might be a little biased.”

“Stop,” she whispered, pressing her fingers against my lips. She shook her head at me again. Her fingers drifted down my neck, leaving trails of warmth that settled on my chest beneath her hand. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

Her eyes and her words were liquid fire, branding me. In one sentence she had just expressed the very essence of my growing feelings for her, and my fear of giving into them.

“You have that backwards,” I murmured, raising my hand to her face, tracing the delicate swell of her cheek, my thumb caressing the soft edge of her jaw. Our faces had drawn close again, each breathing in what the other exhaled. I couldn’t stop staring at the perfect bow of her upper lip, plump and delicious; but I was frozen, unable to move.

“Kiss me,” she said, her words so gossamer light that I nearly didn’t comprehend them.

I rubbed my thumb over that lip, memorizing the shape and feel of it. “If I kiss you, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Her lips moved against my thumb as she formed the words.

“It is if you want to make it to dinner on time.”

She stared at me in surprise. Her face fell as she backed away from my hand; I let it fall to my lap. I hated to put a damper on the moment, but she was the one who was about to leave to meet another guy for dinner. As much as I tried to tell myself I had nothing to worry about, I just didn’t trust Jacob Black, even if Bella did. And as the clock ticked closer to the time she would be with him, my unease grew.

A loud buzzing noise jarred us both. The dryer’s timer had gone off, effectively ending whatever moment we might have salvaged.

“I guess that’s my cue, then,” Bella said, rising from the piano bench and walking back to the dryer.

“You don’t have to do that,” I called after her, getting up to follow.

“You’ve done enough already. I can at least get my own clothes out of the dryer,” she replied as she approached the machine. I watched her gather her things and walk back toward me, but she didn’t stop. “I’ll just go change in the bathroom,” she said as she passed.

Fuck. Killjoy, I berated myself. If I’d played my cards right, maybe I could have convinced her to ditch monkey boy and stay with me instead.

And maybe that’s exactly why I did it.

Bella thanked me for loaning her my clothes, and showing her my place, and playing her a beautiful song. Her subdued politeness felt like daggers to my gut. My own long-perfected subdued politeness felt right at home. It carried me through the next half-hour as I drove her to her car and asked benign questions about her job and her evening ahead. It was almost like our long, open conversations and our amazing kiss had never happened, and we were right back to being therapist and patient.

It was easy and comfortable. I hated it.

She was about to exit my car to go to hers, when she suddenly turned to me, her eyes feverish.

“Please come see me tonight. Come to the Rusty Nail later on. Our bosses will probably only stay for the first set, and then we can just have fun. Rosalie is bringing Emmett. You can keep me company while the band plays,” she said, her voice almost pleading, her eyes hopeful. She didn’t want to lose all the progress we had made today, and now it was time for me to figure out if I wanted to do the same.

“So I’ll be Jacob’s chair warmer while he’s playing? I don’t know if I really want to be a fifth wheel,” I hedged. There had to be some kind of award for the lengths I was going to just to shoot myself in the foot.

She was beginning to look frustrated, almost angry. “I don’t know what I have to do to convince you that this is not a date tonight. I don’t want to date Jake. You’re the one who seems determined to push me in his direction, for some reason that I cannot even begin to fathom.”

I tried to formulate a denial, but my tongue was tied.

Bella took a deep breath; it sounded shaky. But her voice was low and controlled when she finally spoke. “I don’t know who hurt you in the past, Edward, but I’m not her. If you want to stop punishing me for what she did, you know where to find me.”

My mouth was literally agape when I looked at her. She was out of the car and slamming the door in my stunned face before I could reply. Surely Alice hadn’t told her anything. She wouldn’t. No, Bella just knows me. Not the details of my life or my past. Just the workings of my mind; the essence of who I am. She gets me. But even she has her limits.

My mind was in turmoil the whole way home. I tried figure out how to go back somehow; to put the contents back into Pandora’s box. I knew I couldn’t; I knew I didn’t want to. But I didn’t know how to go forward, either.

Things are worse now that I’m home. I’m swilling beer, choking down pizza, cursing at the cat. He’s eying me disdainfully like the fucking idiot I am. After all, he knew where to go for some good lovin’, and had no trouble staying when he got there.

Emmett is out with Rosalie; Alice is with Jasper; and soon Bella will be with Jacob Black. And if I sit here thinking about this for one minute longer, I will lose my goddamned mind.

I need to get out of here and find something to keep me occupied. Something involving copious amounts of brain-numbing alcohol sounds perfect. And when that’s my MO, I know exactly who to call.

I’m checking my cell to see if I still have his number. Even though I haven’t gotten falling-down drunk with him since college, I have the feeling he’ll still be up to the task if he doesn’t have any other plans this evening.

No more rationalizing for today. In fact, no more thinking whatsoever.

It’s time to call my old buddy James.