Chapter 4 (BPOV)
Okay, so maybe I’m being a little melodramatic. I can admit that, own that. But damn it, I’m sad... and pissed.
What’s up slut? Whatcha up 2? -Alice
I look at the screen through blurry, teary eyes. I’ve been breaking out into quiet sobs every now and then, whenever my mind replays the scene over and over again.
Him. And her, whoever she is. Kissing.
No wonder he’s been ignoring my attempts at contact. He doesn’t want me anymore.
And there I go again with the tears.
I may need a girls’ night. -B
Uh-oh. How bad? Shall I send for reinforcements? -Alice
Be my guest. -B
Shit. B there ASAP. -Alice
I throw the phone on the sofa and mope. I’m good at moping. Moping is cathartic. The moping continues for a couple of hours until I decide to take a shower before Alice and her “reinforcements” arrive. I can only hope whatever they have planned includes copious amounts of alcohol.
When the doorbell rings, I lurch towards the door in my baggy sweats. I don’t even have the chance to greet Alice before I notice the caravan behind her. She’s followed by Rose and Angela who come bearing gifts.
“Alrighty, we got some Pinot, Patron, and two of the best men in the world...” Alice lists as Angela waves pints of Ben & Jerry's, “...and about five different chick flicks, so get comfy.”
The girls make themselves at home, turning my apartment into Man-Hating Central.
“So spill. What did Textward do?” Rose cuts right to the chase as she flops down on the sofa, handing me a pint of Phish Food and a spoon.
I tell them how the day transpired in detail, including Edward’s fateful kiss with the redhead. Alice and Angie gasp, mouths agape.
“What an asshole!” Alice shouts. “Did you confront the bastard?”
“No, I was kinda in shock. I really didn’t want to see the rest of it. I already feel like I want to pour bleach in my eyes to erase the visual. I ran.” I sigh, defeated.
“Well, maybe it was a misunderstanding. Maybe it was a family member or something?” Dear Angela, always the optimist.
“Um, no. The chick was sucking his face off.”
“Unbelievable,” Rose chimes in. “So, he hasn’t called you or tried to contact you at all?”
“Nope. Zip, zilch, nada. Girls, I think I gave the milk away for free. It was too fast. I knew it. There’s just no way things could be that perfect so quickly.” Tears pool in my eyes and the girls are immediately at my side to console me.
“Guys suck.” Thank you, Alice.
“Well, I say forget the jerk,” she continues, bringing shot glasses and the bottle of Patron from the kitchen. She slams the glasses down on the coffee table and pours out enough for all of us. I happily down two of them in succession. Hopefully, I’ll get blitzed out of my mind and forget all this nonsense.
We’re halfway through The Ya-Ya Sisterhood and about three quarters through the bottle of tequila when Alice’s cell rings. She answers and I hear nothing but her yelling, but I’m too drunk and depressed to really pay attention. She huffs after hanging up and re-joins us.
“That was Jasper. The nerve!”
“What’s going on?” Rose mutters, momentarily breaking her attention away from the movie. She’s pretty bombed too.
I hear very little of what Alice is saying because I’m two seconds from passing out. I do manage to hear Edward’s name mixed in Alice’s tirade, and something about “making fucking excuses,” but I could be wrong... or dreaming.
“So then I just told him to fuck off, and Edward too!”
That got my attention.
“Edward? What about Edward?” I slur.
“Oh, honey, don’t worry about it. I took care of it. You won’t have to deal with his shit anymore. Nobody messes with my girls.”
“What did Jasper say?” Angie asks.
“Just some BS story about how Edward’s phone was broken or something and that his internet was out, blah blah blah... I mean, seriously, who has that kind of bad luck? It’s really ridiculous. I can’t believe Jasper was spewing that crap. Boy, was I wrong about him. And I’m usually dead-on with my first impressions...”
Alice continues complaining about how much men truly do suck, but all I can do is try to process what she said about Edward and a broken cell. No internet? Anywhere? Alice is right—it’s pretty unbelievable.
“And then I told him Edward was a two-timing asshole, which he flat-out denied... saying that he’s not that type of guy, and that Bella was probably mistaken... Whatever. I turned my phone off after he tried to call me back. I’m not in the mood.” Alice finally takes a breath and the room is eerily silent.
“I think it’s possible Edward’s telling the truth,” Angela says quietly.
“I think you’re wrong,” Alice defiantly replies.
“I think you should talk to him and hear the words from his mouth,” Rosie says turning to me.
My eyes bounce from one of my friends to the other as I try to comprehend what they’re saying. I’m a little slow. I blame Patron.
“I think I’m going to bed.”
There. I choose to deflect.
They all agree, and I invite them to just stay, since everyone’s pretty drunk off their asses. I whisper goodnight and pass out as soon as my body hits the mattress.
~*~*~MT~*~*~
Clank, clank...
Hammering. Someone is hammering.
Clank, clank...
It feels like someone’s hammering on my forehead.
I squint my eyes open, cringing at the very small amount of light peeking through my window – it feels like the sun is burning my eyeballs. It’s a hangover of epic proportions. I notice someone left some Advil, or Tylenol, or something with a glass of water on my nightstand. I love my friends. The digital clock blinks 11:00 a.m. Thank heavens it’s Sunday.
After taking a human moment to make sure I don’t look like a crazed, strung out lunatic, I make my way into my kitchen, where Rose is on the phone with her back to me while moving some eggs around a pan. I don’t disturb her and quietly make my way to the coffee that’s calling my name.
I can’t really hear what she’s discussing over the sounds from the stove, but at some points I hear what sounds like “she deserves to know the truth,” and “I refuse to be the messenger, this is too high school...they just need to talk already.” That last bit peaks my interest, and I clear my throat discreetly to announce my presence.
Rose jerks her head around towards me and whispers into the phone, “Hey she’s up. I’ll call you later,” and places the phone on the kitchen island. She doesn’t look nearly as hungover as I do. Damn it, I don’t know how she does it. She studies me intently before speaking.
“Good morning?” It’s a question, not a greeting.
“We’ll see.” I clutch my warm mug possessively as I sip.
“I was talking to Emmett just now.”
I kind of figured. “And what did he have to say? Are you going to see him again?”
“Yes, but that’s not what I want to talk to you about.”
I raise my eyebrows in question.
“Emmett told me what happened to Edward. He told me the whole story. And I believe him.”
“That’s great, Rose. But how does that change anything?”
“Listen to you,” she complains. “Since when are you a fifteen-year-old? Why are you so opposed to accepting this guy’s explanation? You want whatever you guys have to fail?”
“No! Of course I don’t want it to fail! It wasn’t me sucking face with some red-haired tramp!” Ok, so I shouldn’t have shouted. My head is not happy.
“Listen, B. I’m gonna say this because you’re one of my best friends and I love you. You’re a moron.”
“Gee, thanks. Is this your attempt at negative reinforcement?”
“See? This is exactly what I’m talking about,” she gestures towards me with impatience. “This defense mechanism you got going on. Bella, just listen to Edward, just give him a...”
“A chance? A chance, Rose? Three days! Three days I hear nothing from him. It’s 2011, Rose, social networking is fully engrained into every facet of our lives, and this guy couldn’t find me? And then when I finally reach out, he’s making out with some model on his doorstep?” Oh, my head’s really not happy with me right now.
Rose doesn’t engage, though. Her reaction, along with my headache, cause my ire to deflate.
I was yelling at my best friend. I suck.
Just when I see Rose open her mouth to respond, Alice’s voice floats in.
“Hey, what’s with all the shouty shouts? Some people are trying to sleep.” Her cute little face is all scrunched up as she shuffles her way like a zombie into the kitchen. I’m glad I’m not the only one with a brutal hangover. She looks terrible. It’s comforting.
“Nothing. Look, I’m sorry, Rose, I didn’t mean to snap at you. There’s just so much going through my mind right now. I just don’t know what to believe, you know?”
“Are we talking about Mr. Texty Pants again?” Alice asks.
“Yes.”
“No.”
Rose and I stare at each other after responding simultaneously. It’s a face-off, like an old Western.
“Bella, all I’m saying is give him a chance to explain. The guy’s had the worst possible string of luck for the past three days. Seriously, he couldn’t make that kind of crap up if he tried.” Rose speaks quietly, pleading with me to have an open mind. I’m resistant.
“Well, if it makes a difference, I talked to Jasper a little while ago, and even though I’m not totally convinced of Edward’s innocence, I’ve accepted that Jasper has nothing to do with it and was just trying to help out a friend. I’m seeing him tonight,” Alice declares. She sounds resolute and pretty confident. I envy her.
Angela finally rises and joins us for an otherwise uneventful breakfast before everyone heads out to their own lives and places to go. I’m left alone to ponder everything that was said. What could have possibly happened to explain Edward being MIA for three days? If his luck is as bad as Rose alluded, then that boy probably needs some type of shaman cleansing or something.
As my hangover subsides a couple of hours later, I decide to busy myself with cleaning. I start with the kitchen and am working my way to the living room when my cell chirps from the bedroom. I forgot I’d left it there when I woke up this morning so I head over to retrieve it. There’s a text message from an unknown number.
Hey, we still on for the park @ 5?
Strange. I check my calendar to see if maybe I had something scheduled with a client. But I see nothing. Of course there’s nothing, you idiot. It’s Sunday.
I type my response.
Who’s this?
Um, Who’s this?
Ugh, I don’t have time or patience for these games. This kind of thing blew up in my face the last time.
Look, I don’t have time 4 this. Who r u?
After a few minutes, there’s nothing back, so I pocket the phone to continue my cleaning. The phone chirps again as I’m dusting.
I’m an idiot.
What now? My stomach does summersaults as I halt my movements to sit on the couch. No, it can’t be...
Y would I talk 2 an idiot then?
Maybe b/c u the idiot in question is trying 2 not be an idiot n e more?
Well, I know of 1 idiot who I thought liked me. But he never called me or texted me.
A few moments pass before I get a response. My heart is beating through my chest, threatening to explode from nerves.
Well, maybe that idiot has a good explanation.
It better be.
What if this idiot had his phone thrown away w/o his knowledge?
Go on.
What if this idiot had no landline & didn’t have ur number memorized or knew where u lived or worked?
That sounds like shit bad luck.
I can imagine him smirking and chuckling to himself.
It is. It was. What if this idiot tried like hell 2 find u, calling friends to get ur info, only 2 find out what u saw was not what u think u saw?
I know what I saw. He was kissing her. It was pretty black and white. I don’t see how he could ever explain that away. I can’t handle this right now... I need to think.
I can’t. I can’t right now. I need time. Just leave me alone.
I get no response after about fifteen minutes of just staring at the screen. I need a distraction, so I dress and leave my apartment and step into the cold December day. As I walk, the sounds of Christmas music float through the air from open storefronts. People hurry, huddled, bundled, and laughing—goddamn holiday cheer. I can smell the pine from tree selling stations and it reminds me that I haven’t even put up a tree. I walk around aimlessly a bit more, just to clear my head and absorb the city.
Rose calls to suggest coffee. I figure she feels guilty about this morning so I agree and set out to the address she gives me. I could use some warmth... and a friend.
When I reach my destination, a quiet, cozy coffee house with big fluffy sofas, I don’t see her. I quickly tap out a text letting her know I’m here and pick a spot in the back against one of the windows. I set my huge cup of hot chocolate on the table in front of me and cradle my phone in my hand waiting for a response. I get one. But it’s not from Rose.
Please. Just ask me.
Unknown number again.
What do u want me 2 ask?
Ask me about what u saw.
I contemplate what he’s asking me. Am I ready to hear his explanation? It’s now or never, and Rose’s words about not acting like a teenager return, prompting me to take the adult course of action. I take the bait.
Who was she?
She’s a lawyer 4 the account I’m currently working on. We went out a couple times.
This is exactly what I feared. He’s not totally available. He played me.
Then y r u trying to explain? Just let me be. I get it.
Ur not understanding.
Then please, explain. I’m dying 2 know.
I hope he can sense the sarcasm.
I ended it a long time ago. She wanted more. I rejected her.
What I saw didn’t look like a rejection.
That’s b/c she can’t take no for an answer.
So. Then what did I really see?
U saw a desperate woman who came to my home unannounced & forced a kiss which I didn’t reciprocate.
Hmm. That is a possibility. I turned away so quickly that maybe I missed something.
Really?
Really. & 2 add insult 2 injury, she confessed 2 stealing my cell during a working lunch. She threw it in the garbage.
A sigh of relief escapes me unconsciously. I’m kind of happy. I mean, not for him, because what happened clearly sucked, but yeah... Happy that it wasn’t me. His silence for three day wasn’t because of me.
She’s Psycho.
Clearly.
So, u really weren’t trying 2 ignore me? –B
No. I was definitely not trying 2 ignore u. -E
Hmm.. -B
Ur 2 important 2 ignore. -E
My vision is a little blurry, a little watery. I swipe my fingers over my eyes to find wetness. I’m a little choked up. I’m such a girl.
So what now? -B
Do u want to still c me? -E
Yes. I very much want to see you, Edward.
I would. -B
Where r u? -E
Wait. U mean now? U wanna c me now? -B
Shit.
Y not? I’ll come to u. Where r u? -E
I’m meeting Rose for coffee. I’m not home. -B
And u look beautiful. -E
Wait. What? What did he just...?
My head snaps up, and I look around the patrons in the cafe before my eyes lock on a single, imposing presence. My breathing speeds up as I take in the vision before me. Edward, clad in jeans an a grey thermal under a black wool jacket, stands near the door. His head covered in a black beanie, cheeks pink from the cold. He’s wearing a hopeful expression with his cell phone in hand.. My heart threatens to jump out of my chest. Confused emotions swirl in my mind, and I can’t make sense of anything. All I know is that this beautiful, gorgeous man is here. He’s here to see me. And I don’t even know what to say to him, or what to believe.
He approaches me slowly, as if I’ll run away like a scared gazelle if he moves too quickly. Little does he know I’m frozen where I sit.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Clearly, this is a very profound conversation.
“Wha... What are you doing here?” I whisper.
Edward stands before me, shifting his weight nervously before taking off his beanie and passing his fingers through his messy hair. He never takes his eyes off me.
“I was hoping you’d want to see me now.”
“Did you plan this?” The realization suddenly dawns on me.
He smirks shyly, looking at the floor like a child who’s been caught red-handed.
“Rose,” I say, reaching the obvious conclusion.
“Don’t be mad at her. It was kind of a team effort.”
I cross my arms at my chest, waiting for him to continue.
“You wouldn’t talk to me any other way. Rose told Em how upset you were, and with good reason. God only knows if I were in your shoes...”
“I thought you didn’t want me anymore.” The words that interrupt him are insecure and uttered in barely a whisper.
Edward’s eyes flash in awareness and he gestures to a chair across from me with a questioning glance. I nod. He sits gingerly.
“Bella, if you only knew what I’ve been through to find you.”
“Then tell me.” And he does.
He tells me everything. He tells me about getting my text messages that went unanswered, about the meeting, the lunch, Victoria, his neighbor Garrett, no internet, Google searches, Facebook pictures from blocked profiles, and desperate phone calls to friends too far away to come to his immediate aid. Rose is right: he couldn’t make this shit up if he tried.
“I’m sorry,” he finally says, looking intense and beautiful.
“So am I.”
“Bella, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry about. I’m the one who fucked up...”
“I doubted you. I acted like a child. I didn’t give you a chance to explain. I let my own insecurities get in the way of us... and I’m sorry.”
In a flash Edward is next to me, the sofa dipping from his weight. His warmth next to me is like a drug, and I’m helpless against its power. I turn to find his face inches from mine; turquoise pools staring into my eyes. I see he’s telling the truth. I know. His hands clasp mine, the buzz of the cafe drowned out by the bubble we create around each other.
“Is there... do you think...” Edward pauses to breathe deeply and tries again.
“Bella, do you think we could get passed this and start over? Please say you forgive me,” he whispers, almost grazing my cheek with his lips.
“Of course I do. Only if you forgive me... and don’t say I don’t deserve it because I need to hear you say...”
I can’t finish the sentence because his lips are on mine, soft and insistent. It’s slow, but fierce, and I’m powerless to resist him. I open my mouth to him when his tongue tentatively grazes my bottom lip and he needs no further invitation. His hands cradle my head, his fingers weaving through my hair. I lean into him when my hands rest on his broad chest and inch their way up to their favorite place at the nape of his neck.
When we finally break away from the kiss, he presses his forehead against mine. He smiles like he just discovered the best treasure and it’s infectious. I’m smiling too, not even caring that we must look like dorks.
“Technology sucks,” he says seriously.
I can’t help but snort a loud chuckle. “Yes, it truly does.”
I look at him adoringly and mess with his crazy hair. “But if it weren’t for technology we wouldn’t have met.”
“That is true, and I cringe at the thought of not knowing you exist,” he says. “I promise to memorize your phone number, your address, and your place of employment.” He smirks while peppering my lips with small kisses.
“I promise never to assume anything when it comes to you.”
“Let me take you out to dinner tonight. Nothing fancy, just you and me somewhere quiet. Just to talk. All I want to do is talk.”
“No you don’t,” I tease. He gives me a sexy smirk... the one from the picture he sent to my phone.
“You’re right, I definitely don’t want to just talk. But, we’ll take it slow. I meant what I said that morning in my bed. Now that I have you again, and I almost lost you, I’m not letting you go,” he whispers before possessing me in a searing kiss that must be borderline obscene for a cafe full of people.
“Is it bad that I want to skip the talking and go straight to the make-up sex?” I blurt out when we break for air. I freeze as I realize I must’ve said that a little too loud. Thankfully, there are only a couple of students on their laptops and iPods, so no harm done.
Edward chuckles as he takes my hand before standing up and leading us out the door into the crisp cold.
We walk around the city, just happy to be in each other’s presence. He helps me buy a small Christmas tree and I invite him over to help me trim it. Little does he realize trimming the tree is code for hot sex.
Once we enter my apartment and set the tree in its place, I can’t stand not having him as close as I want him to be and swiftly push him against the wall. My hands grab onto the lapels of his coat while we devour each other with the kind of kiss they write about in trashy novels. He responds, grabbing me by my hips and swinging us around until I’m the one sandwiched between the wall and his hard body.
It’s a frenzy, and I’m not the least bit shy about wanting to rip his clothes off. He seems to feel the same way judging by the way he’s pulling and tugging at his shirt, my jacket, and attaching his perfect mouth onto my skin...everywhere.
“You sure? You sure about this?” he gasps in between licks and kisses. I nod emphatically.
“Yes I’m fucking sure,” I say before he grabs my ass to lift me up. I wrap my legs around his waist and direct him towards my bedroom.
I like trimming the tree. I think it’s awesome.
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