You've all seen the pics that surfaced over the weekend. Grainy, hard to decipher, impossible to determine if indeed there is tonsil hockey in play or just a little rock-concert-appropriate direct-in-the-ear conversation taking place (if I had someone claiming I was having an affair every time I practically stick my lips onto someone's ear to talk over loud music, Mr. Snarky would divorce my seemingly slutty ass faster than you can say "Nobody cuckolds Mr. Snarky!").
Honestly, I don't really give a shit. And I have mixed feelings abut the fact that I have been STARING at those pics - and that ONE - you know "The One!" - like they're drug kingpins and I'm the U.S. District Attorney.
I don't care what they're doing - I just want to go to there...
Are they touching?! Aren't they? Are they revealing state secrets of some sort??? Plotting the overthrow of a moderately-sized third world country? No?? Why do I care?! Um, I don't[-ish] . That much... I hope I'm not going to offend anyone's delicate sensibilities here [BWAHAHAHAHA!!!] but I actually hope they're out there fucking like bunnies every chance they get. They're young, they're both total hotties (I have absolutely no desire to switch teams but I wouldn't kick Kristen Stewart out of my bed, either - just sayin'), and it's obvious that they have great chemistry together and at the very least really like each other. A LOT. Kristen Stewart's been with what's-his-nuts/Oregano for what - like 5 years? In teen dating time, that's like dog years! She should be playing the field, lest she find herself reminiscing when she's 90 and saying wistfully "I shoulda tapped that." And I'm not advocating total whore mode, either. I have always been a serial monogamist and even though all my friends in high school were total sluts, I was the always the most prim chick at the burnout table. When I told the guy who I eventually lost my virginity to that I was a virgin, even he had to pick his jaw up off the floor given the company I kept (and I miss 'em!). Nothing wrong with not having a sex tape out there, and maybe maintaining a teeny touch of mystery...
I could post eight gazillion photos of Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart gazing dreamily into each other's eyes like they have a special super-fabulous "wow I've never had an orgasm like that before have you?!" secret and are doing a mental pinkie-swear to get nekkid and do nasty oh-so-good things to each other the very next possible paparazzi-free moment they have together, but I won't. You've seen them (and if you haven't, let me know and I will be more than happy to post them here because most of the pics like that are fucking awesome and make me swoon from the intoxication of passionate, young hottie crushes).
Instead, I'll leave you with a photo that for me best encapsulates Robsten best...
Can't get enough of this maybe-possibly-sordid-or-not story? Then check out the awesome peeps at TwiCrack Addict and ROBsessed for more details! Additional photos at Radar Online if you want to get all "I WILL get to the bottom of this!!!" with it (it's ok - I couldn't help myself, either).
P.S. Here's a pic that I believe is the pic above but shot from the front. I happened across it by accident while looking for another photo. IMHO it's still just as lovely and completely smitten-looking Robward as the pic above. If they're a couple now, I hope they are left left alone enough to enjoy it...
WE DID IT! WE DID IT! We finally did it!!! And by "we," I mean "Latchkey Wife ," because she did 99.9% of the legwork that it took to make this happen.
We've been meaning to do this for a while. But we are chronic procrastinators. Sadly, we started the Cafe Press store three or four months ago but realized we were totally in over our heads and had no idea what we were doing. Have my technical chops improved since I discovered Twilight and blogging? Absolutely! Could I explain the difference between a jpeg, png, and tif file if my life depended on it? Nope - it would be dirt-nap time for Snarky.
People began mentioning that they wanted Twitarded merch months and months ago, and it became increasingly apparent that you Twitards are a resourceful lot (as if I didn't already know this - of course you guys are brilliant!). When Latchkey Wife sent me the pic below I knew it was "shit or get off the pot" time, because clearly the rest of the world does not share my caveman-level technical competency and would take matters into their own hands if I didn't take care of business...
Whoa - set up the X-rated Twitarded store, STAT!
Soooooo... It makes me happier than Bella on Isle Esme to announce that we have Twitarded merchandise available for your late-night impulse-buying pleasure at both Cafe Press and Zazzle. There isn't a ton of stuff at the moment and hopefully we'll be adding items in the near future, but if your life has been in a perpetual state of distress as a result of not being able to have the Twitard chicks emblazoned on your bosom in all our silly, vampy glory, well my friend, today is your lucky day. So go forth and buy shit!
Go Team Twitarded!!! Too bad they don't sell giant #1 foam fingers... Or maybe they do?! Your gonna spew it anyway but wouldn't it be nice to have your morning cuppa joe in a Twitarded mug first?
Gotta have something to tote your shit to the New Moon premiere, right???
And because I feel kinda weird about selling stuff that I would happly give out for free if I were independently wealthy (surprisingly, that Mega-Millions lottery get-rich-quick scheme of mine has not panned out as of yet), I want to state for the record that we're selling these items for the minimum 10% markup that Zazzle requires and adding only $1 (or in some cases $0 for the really inexpensive stuff) to the merch at Cafe Press. The idea of people wearing, stickering, or stamping envelopes with our Twitarded logo (that Mr. Snarky doodled on the back of an envelope one night at my request!) makes me so insanely happy that I can't even find words to describe it. Plus I will be my own best customer and I am currently residing in Brokeville.
Should you feel compelled to spend your hard-earned cash spreading the Twitarded love, we'd love it if you would take pictures of you, your S/O, your kid, or your pet wearing our merch! Please snap a few shots and sent them our way so that we can post them here for everyone to enjoy!
Thanks again to Latchkey Wife for making this all possible - I bow to your technical superiority.
And thanks for all of you who want to sport Twitarded merch! I am truly in awe... OK I gotta go buy a mug... and a thong... and an apron and maybe a few buttons and stickers and...
P.S. I know a lot of you are interested in the Team Twitarded buttons - and I am thrilled! I will get a link for purchasing them up in the next day or so!
P.P.S. I also want to thank Lys for the awesome "Team Twitarded" graphic!
So it's a lazy Sunday afternoon and I'm recovering from a party that I attended last night without JJ (there are other people in the world! I had no idea... I thought I found a suitable BFF replacement but JJ said she'd cut that bitch if we got too chummy in her absence so I guess I won't go there). OK truth be told I spent a good part of the night sitting in front of the computer trying to trick passers-by into engaging me in a Twilight-related conversation. It was hit-or-miss. But I did get to watch - er, or should I 'fess up and say "rewatch for the thirty-seventh time" my favorite video of the week...
This masterpiece was created by the remarkable Mrs. Vanquish at Let's ride the vanquish. You may recall her very first vid, I'm a slave 4 you, which was so good that it made you forget what a crazy train wreck Britney Spears is? Well, her sophomore effort does NOT disappoint! I don't know where she even found some of these pics, but I made myself late for work earlier this week because I couldn't stop hitting "Replay" and then when JJ and I parked ourselves in front of her massive computer monitor and put it in full-screen high-def [definitely DO THIS] we almost fell off the seat we were sharing (again, it's a good thing that we're both too fucking lazy to grab a second chair from another room because if it weren't for the fact that we were clutching onto each other we would have totally fell to the floor in a big moist lump). This video will make you unproductive for at least the next 30 minutes, maybe more. Spontaneous drool and panty combustion alert! You've been warned.
Well, my work here is done - enjoy the rest of your weekend! And might I suggest stopping back later for a repeat showing of this video at bedtime? I guarantee you'll have pleasant dreams...
I know that we don't really do Twilight news here at Twitarded (unless you consider "Robert Pattinson is HAWT!!!" or "New Moon Movie Makes Me Go "SQUEEE!!!" to be breaking stories), but I was just flipping through the New York Times Style Magazine in between doing bloggy stuff and catching up on emails (yeah, that's my lame attempt at multi-tasking) when I stumbled upon these drop-dead-gorgeous photos of Dakota Fanning - and really, they just knocked my socks off. She seems like she's got real staying power and is going to be one of the few who makes the transition from "child star" to "Star" and does it gracefully, which is more that I can say for many young wanna-bes (I'm lookin' at you, Lindsey Lohan - go away already, ok?). Even when she was younger, it was clear she was talented - I saw her in "War of the Worlds," and although I think her only oft-repeated line in the movie was "SCREEEEEEEEEEECH!!!!," I was still impressed. Which says a lot, because I'm generally in agreement with W.C. Fields on the whole "never work with children or animals" thing.
Here's a blurb and I've scanned the photos below (that's right - Twitaded's first bloggy scoop! Woooo!!), but you can read the whole interview at the NYT's website!
Drama Teen DAKOTA FANNING, 15 GOING ON 30, PLAYS DRESS-UP. BY PETER McQUAID
Photographs by Mark Segal
Dakota Fanning is so self-possessed and so articulate that the only reminder you’re speaking with a 15-year-old and not someone much older is her occasional tendency to giggle when she’s sharing some droll aspect of her life.
Such a life. With the camera running, Fanning has been kidnapped, beaten, covered with live snakes, sexually assaulted and menaced by beings human and not.
When I was being lazy and seeing if anyone else had the images that I could just copy (they didn't), I noticed that The Frisky also covered this story (and if you haven't checked out The Frisky, you should!) -
Image from The Frisky.
The fall fashion issue of the New York Times’ T Magazine boasts a stunning spread of 15-year-old Dakota Fanning. Dressed in nude, brown, and cream colors, the star’s monochromatic style is super luxe and features Dior, Lanvin, and Chanel. The actress attends private school, is a cheerleader, and has an obsession with Marni platforms. While she may be growing up into a highbrow celeb, she’s still an adolescent: “[She’s] pleased to exercise the prerogative that states that for a period in one’s life, a particular pair of shoes—or a bag or a boy, for that matter—can be perfect in every respect and should be worn (or phoned) every day.” Of course, if we had a closet full of Marni pumps, we’d be wearing them every day with as much youthful zeal. [New York Times]
As much as it hurts me to admit it, Jenny Jerkface has other friends. I know! I can't believe it, either! Because I am a selfish, jealous bitch, I'm going to just come right out and say that I think she should be content with just me and the perfectly honed Twi-bloggy mind-meld that has essentially morphed us into one unit with a single brain, but she's friend-slutty like that and sometimes feels the need to hang with people I don't even know. The nerve! In their defense, friends of JJ's that I haven't had the pleasure of meeting get my stamp of approval-by-association, since I generally think anyone JJ adores will be worthy of my adoration, too.
However, it quickly became apparent as she embarked on her recent trip to Portland that I was forgetting a crucial friend-by-association filter: the Twilight-O-Meter. Like many other factors people use to determine friend vs. enemy, where someone stands on this crucial subject cannot be under-emphasized.
Sadly, in light of the the following missive I received earlier today from a certain someone who is traveling with Ms. Jerkface, I'm going to say that JJ's west coast crew is not Twi-friendly. Not that I'm dismissing them flat-out, but for now they will be relegated to "potentially convertable" status, friend-worthiness TBD.
For your consideration:
Exibit A: A secretive email sent to the Twitarded email addy under cover of "AnonOME" -
Dear Snarkier Than You,
It's been two days since Jenny and I embarked on our little Pacific-Northwest excursion. I have to admit I was really excited to go - even though we weren't going to be near Forks, it was still close enough and I was hoping it would bring back some memories. We even had a lay-over in Seattle! Only a couple of hours, but long enough for Jenny to find that Women's room where Bella managed to elude Alice and Jasper. Oh, and she says Sea-Tac is not nearly as nice as it looked in the movie...
Anyway, don't tell Jenny but... she's kind of being an asshole.
It all started with the plane ride. I mean, I know she only got an hour and a half of sleep before she had to leave for the airport, but still, did she REALLY have to refuse to let me out of her bag? I mean, I really wanted to see the plane take off and enjoy the view, but that bitch grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'Fuck off mini-Edward, I'm cranky and need to sleep."
Whatevs. During out layover at SeaTac, I managed to escape for a brief photo-op while she was off getting a double-quadruple espresso...
Yup, I could stop that plane with my super-vampire strength. That one, too...
Anyhoo, we reach Portland and her friend picks us up at the airport and everything seems like it's going to be okay after all. Forgive and forget, right?
But STY--her friend isn't a Twitard!?! In fact, SHE DOESN'T EVEN LIKE ME!!! WTF?! How could Jenny do this to me?! I mean, we were at a bar last night and SHE DIDN'T TAKE ONE FUCKING PICTURE. And you know how I like having my picture taken.
I know, I know, I shouldn't be complaining to you, since technically you got the shit end of the Jenny Jerkface stick, what with having to take care of that stinky ass critter of hers AND man the helm of Twitarded while that bitch is off having a blast but...
Gizmo [hearts] Twilight. And STY. And food.
I really want to go home. Like now. I mean, no one likes me here. No one laughs at my jokes or reminds me how exquisite and Adonis-ish I am.
Oh. Shit. Gotta run- I think JJ is coming back!
Miss you. More than you'll ever know...
xo,
Edward
P.S. That picture she sent you that made it seem like all was right with the world and she was showing me a good time? A total sham!! She won't be bringing back these t-shirts because she had to slink off to the pre-teen section of the store to snap this pic on the sly! Don't let her fool you!
What do you mean this isn't your size?! You and STY need these! Look how they sparkle!!
If it wasn't for the radio, I would be even more clueless than I already am about anything happening in the world that isn't Twilight related. Pre-all-consuming-Twilight-obsession, I used to keep informed by reading news online, listening to the radio, watching it on television, and filling in the rest with newspapers and magazines. But as Mr. Snarky has noted, lately Twilight news sustains me on level comparable to oxygen, food, and water. I can live on that shit! Consequently, there is rarely time enough in the day for all that other nonsense... Thankfully, in the mornings while we're getting ready for work, we still have news radio on in every room at Casa Snarky (can't read blogs while showering, after all. Yet.). And then I listen to more news radio during my heinous trek to the office, although sometimes it's hard to hear it over the near-constant stream of profanity I usually feel compelled to direct at my fellow commuters.
In the very best of times, the real world and the Twidom intersect and I hear a news story that makes me think of Twilight (er, more than almost everything makes me think of Twilight). I was listening to Marketplace (I am a "left of the dial" kinda gal for both news and music...) and they were discussing the one thing that the retail fashion powers-that-be are considering their fiscal lifesaver this year: plaid.
This season they're pinning their hopes on a very familiar pattern. Marketplace's Stacey Vanek Smith reports.
STACEY VANEK-SMITH: After more than a year of being pounded by the recession, retailers think they've finally found the strategy for success...plaid [aka "the pattern favored by just about every member of the Twilight cast!"].
Karolyn Wangstad: We're just kind of mad about plaid here [us, too! Especially when said plaid is wrapped around a certain someone...].
Karolyn Wangstad is Vice President of trend for JCPenney. She says plaid is a pillar for the fall. She says it works for men and women, and you can put it on anything [like your favorite vampire!].
WANGSTAD: An assortment of tops, jackets, outer-wear, handbags, scarves, hats. You name it. We call it "total plaidness" around here. That's kind of our joke. [Er, and it's kinda not funny...]
Families are expected to spend about 8 percent less on back to school shopping than they did last year [don't forget your Twilight lunchbox and thermos!]. Plaid fits into that pattern, too, says Wendy Liebmann CEO of WSL Strategic Retail. She says you can put the print on any fabric, from cashmere to cotton, so even cash-strapped shoppers can get their plaid on.
WENDY LIEBMANN: This sense of trying to make even the trend merchandise affordable has been really a mantra for most of the retailers around the country.
And some of us may not even have to buy anything, if we can just find those old flannel shirts, which are probably somewhere in the garage with our Nirvana posters, Doc Martens and fingerless gloves. [Who needs to go to the garage? Well, not for my docs, anyway...]
[Note from JJ: I still have all my docs too. Oh, and I officially never want to read the word "plaid" again because no matter how many times I look at it it looks like its spelled wrong. And it's annoying.]
Honestly, I did plaid the first time it went around, back in the late eighties and early nineties. And along with leggings, vests, gladiator sandals (I swear they came back into style two seconds after I stuffed mine into a Goodwill box - I may have actually caused them to resurface), moccasins, bleached/ripped/acid-washed jeans, Candies, and all that other stuff, I stick to my hard-and-fast rule: if it's "back," I probably shouldn't be buying it, wearing it, or coveting it at Hot Topic.
However, that's not gonna stop me from ogling the Twilight cast in all their plaid-wearing glory (and by "Twilight cast" I mean "Robert Pattinson exclusively although some of those other guys are hot but not you Taycob you're still too young I don't care what anyone says - damn you, I'm gonna have to be totally sauced at the New Moon premiere just to deal with your adolescent 8-pack abs! sigh - moving on...):
"I love this plaid shirt, and that other plaid shirt, and that plaid shirt I loaned to Kristen..."
Kellan hearts plaid, too! Especially when he's in disguise at Comic Con and channeling his inner grunge-rocker (sorry Kellan, you are too clean-cut to pull the grunge look off - I have never seen someone incapable of slouching, but there you go... Two points for effort, though! And is that a hat AND a headband? Your stylist is messing with you, dude).
Robward and some other people at Comic Con. See how he's looking right. at. YOU?! And see, the young lad on the left is also in plaid! And that chick in the middle is wearing that tee that drives JJ nuts because Minor Threat is a straight-edge band, and well, K-Stew's totally not straight-edge...
Ashley Greene loves plaid, too! Big red lumberjack plaid! Like the kind the Brawny spokes-model would wear, if there were such a thing.
Peter Facinelli goes for something a little more madras-y, almost, but nope - still plaid!
There are 9,673,821 different pics of Robward in THIS plaid shirt on the internets - he REALLY loves this shirt - and I REALLY love this pic, short hair and all... I still wanted to run my hands all up in that! You know you did, too...He's gonna shave his head when Breaking Dawn wraps, mark my words...
Edi Gathegi's workin' his plaid, too! Just a tiny bit. Just a lil' bad-vampy accessory piece...
Ash also likes to accessorize with a tad of plaid...
What? Oh yeah RPatts, wearing more... um... something... Er, what am I talking about? Sorry, can't concentrate - too busy focusing on that straw... Nothing wrong with a man with an oral fixation...
KStew loved one of Rob's plaid shirts SOOO much that she made a dress out of it! Clever DIY girl...
She also likes to rock the bad-girl plaid... (And I am SO glad I live Jersey and never EVER have to pump my own gas.)
Jacksper's a good indie-rocker/hipster and mixes his plaid with stripes...
Even Dakota's getting in on the act! Oh and I think I threw those jeans out in 1993...
Nikki must have been rooting through KStew's closet - how sweet!
Is it wrong that I will probably knock down a bunch of hapless tweeny boppers in the Brass Plum section of Nordstrom just to get my mitts on this jacket? No??? Good.
"Beg pardon - I have to take this very important call from the Plaid Council of America..."
So thanks, Twilight, for keeping all those retailers in business! These days, I think Twilight and Cash for Clunkers are the only things holding the economy together... Now I'm gonna go buy me some more Twilight merch to decorate JJ's apartment while she's away (more on that to come!).
P.S. Here's the official plaid of Clan Snarky!
Maybe I should send RPatts a Clan Snarky shirt? Or plaid boxers... Hmmmm...
Mini-E shows his Clan Snarky spirit! My grandma would be proud! Er, maybe...
This might be chapter six but this is STILL my first attempt at writing fan fiction, so go on easy on me, okay? At least use a little verbal lube before you tear into me.
For the newbies this is the sixth chapter. If you want to start, go here.
15 Step is going to be posted chapter by chapter. I don't intend on it being too long but... we'll see. This story is Bella's POV. Everyone is a human. I did attempt to keep a decent amount of the original stories in this tale.
Disclaimers - The characters, naturally, are Stephenie Meyer's and I've just warped 'em a little to suit our, er, "needs." The titles of the chapters and anything in italics do not belong to me, either. The titles are actually song titles and the italicized bits are pieces of lyrics that I've pulled from songs.
And, this goes without saying, these stories are intended for mature, adult readers. Well, adult, at least. Eighteen and over only.
And thank you everyone for being so patient.
And, as always, thank STY, you dahling you. I'm going to miss you dreadfully when I'm in New Hampshire Oregon this weekend. [I'm sensing a trend]
CHAPTER SIX - MAGIC TRICK
Charlie was talking quietly on the phone when I scurried down the stairs the next morning, finally forced from my peaceful slumber by my insistently hungry stomach. He hung up and walked over to the counter, picking up a cup of coffee and staring glumly at the dark whorls of clouds outside.
“Supposed to be a bad storm today,” he remarked casually. “I’m going to head down to the Rez to catch the ball game with Harry."
“Have fun with that,” I told him cheerily. Charlie looked askance.
“Do you want to come?” he asked as he pulled a twelve-pack of Rainier from the fridge. I got to work cracking a couple of eggs into a in a skillet, even though it was closer to lunchtime than breakfast. He wrinkled his nose as I gave a bottle of hot sauce a few generous shakes.
“Thanks, Charlie, but I think I’ll stay in. Sports don’t really interest me,” I replied, smiling broadly.
Charlie narrowed his brown eyes at me. “What’s wrong?” he asked suspiciously.
I frowned. “Nothing’s wrong.” I jerked my wrist, flipping the eggs over in the skillet with a satisfying hiss.
“You’re smiling.”
I slanted my eyes at Charlie, confused. “And?”
“Well, you haven’t smiled like that in… well,” Charlie looked a little abashed, as if he just realized he shouldn’t have brought it up. “Well, since you’ve gotten here, I guess.”
“Oh.” I figured telling him that I was in high spirits thanks to a midnight make-out session with Edward Cullen would do me no good, so I kept my eyes focused on the eggs as I slid them onto a plate, their insides warm and perfectly runny. The toaster binged on the counter, releasing two pieces of toast, which I used to murder the perfection of the eggs. The yellow seeped out of the destruction and I sopped it up greedily with the bread.
“At least sit down,” Charlie huffed, looking slightly disgusted as I wolfed my meal down.
“Shwoarr.” I sat down and licked yolk from my fingers, ignoring Charlie’s apparent disapproval of my eating habits. The truth was I rarely sat down to eat meals. Renee and I never really shared dinner together and I often ended up hunched over my laptop with a plate on the desk. Eating with Charlie was just plain uncomfortable; neither of us ever seemed to know what to say.
“What are your plans for today?”
I shrugged and swallowed a mouthful of bread. “I don’t know. Maybe some homework and laundry, I guess.”
Charlie nodded curtly and turned to leave. He was almost to the front door when he stopped and turned back toward the kitchen.
“Oh, Bella,” he called over the distance, “Your mother called.”
My good mood hovered inside of me for one short moment before it crashed into the ground and disappeared.
“What did she want?” My voice was terse, angry.
“She wanted to talk to you.”
“Yeah, well, it’s good to want things.”
Charlie paused, measuring his words. “Look, Bells, you should call her. I know you’re upset but-“
“Upset doesn’t quite cut it, Charlie.” I stood abruptly and scraped the half-eaten eggs into the garbage, my hunger pangs replaced by something deeper, sharper. “Did you tell her I got suspended?”
“No,” he replied softly. “I figured I’d leave that up to you.”
I gave Charlie a small smile, grateful he kept his mouth shut, especially since I had no intention of talking to my mother, much less telling her I got into a fight at school.
“Thanks, Charlie.”
“Will you call her?”
I hesitated, feeling guilty about lying to him outright. “Yeah, sure. I’ll call her.”
Later. Like never.
After Charlie left, I plugged into my iPod and busied myself with mundane chores, pushing Renee out of my thoughts. Unfortunately, it didn’t take me as long as I had hoped to do some wash and tidy up, and soon enough I found myself with nothing to do but stare moodily out the window, the strum of guitars trickling into my ears barely registering. I come from just the other side of nowhere/ To this big time lonesome town/ They got a lot of ice and snow here/ Half as cold as all the people I've found/ Every way I try to go here seems to bring me down/ I've seen about enough to know where I belong...
Five o’clock found me lying on my bed, staring absently at the ceiling as a nasty tempest raged outside of Charlie’s house, clamoring at the windows to get inside. The thunder was cacophonous and lightening cleaved through the thick black sky in dazzling arcs of blinding yellow-white brilliance. Boredom ate away at me; my body felt heavy, ennui sinking me deeper into the sagging mattress the longer I remained inert. I envisioned myself disappearing inch by inch until the mattress finally engulfed me, and thought of the time Renee and I had rented A Nightmare on Elm Street. Images of a young Johnny Depp fighting death in a sea of blood flickered past my mind's eye. I couldn't decide what was worse - getting sucked into my mattress or calling my mother. I dispelled my musings with a huff, rolled over onto my belly, and grabbed my phone. No new calls. I flipped it open anyway and the face lit up, signaling that there was nothing wrong with the phone.
I was loath to admit it to myself, but I wasn’t actually bored. I was waiting, and patience had never been a strong suit of mine.
Edward hadn’t called.
The phone is a fine invention/ It allows me to talk endlessly to you/ About nothing disguising my intentions/Which I'm afraid, my friend, are wildly untrue... I knew there was no reason why I couldn’t just pick up the phone and dial him, but my stubbornness outweighed my desire to talk to him. Barely. He had suggested sneaking out, he was the one who brought me to the woods. Edward was the first to make a move back in Port Angeles. And he would be the first one to call.
“Bella?” Charlie’s voice sounded distant and small, tinny under the violent thrashing of the furor outside.
“Hi Charlie!” I scrabbled off my bed, flung open the door and thundered down the stairs. “How are you?”
He stared at me a mixture of fear and distrust, like I just admitted I murdered the old lady down the street. I grinned at him, eager to focus on something other than the fact that Edward had not called.
“All right, what on earth is going on with you?” Charlie exclaimed, throwing up his hands helplessly. I froze in my spot.
“Huh?” My mind stuttered and, with a jolt, I wondered if he discovered that I had snuck out the night before. Judging by the perplexed--but not angry--look on his face, I figured my secret was safe.
“First, this morning you were all cheerful and then tonight I come home and you come out of your room like a bat out of hell, looking very happy to see me.”
I laughed. “Charlie, c’mon,” I wheedled teasingly. “I just happen to be in a good mood, that’s all.”
“If you were any other kid, Bella,” Charlie said, waving a finger at me, “I would buy that. But you’re up to something and I’m going to find out what it is.”
“Are you hungry?” I asked innocently.
“Don’t change the subject, missy,” Charlie growled back but the suspicion had vanished from his voice and he regarded me with wary, but hopeful, eyes.
“I promise I’m not up to something, Charlie.” I rolled my eyes and heaved a martyred breath. “Now, are you hungry or not? I can cook a mean chicken...”
“Who are you and what have you done with the teenager who was living here before?” Charlie laughed, a soft wheeze, and followed me to the kitchen.
After dinner I shooed Charlie from the kitchen and took my time cleaning up, disinclined to head back to my room. I had purposely left my cell phone up there, so I wouldn’t be tempted to look at it every fifteen minutes and wonder why Edward had not yet called.
Grease pocked the water in the sink with iridescent bubbles as I puzzled over the previous night's activities in my head. Maybe Edward thought it was a mistake and that was why he had not called. Or perhaps his parents caught him sneaking out and he was grounded. I gnawed my bottom lip anxiously, loathing the upheaval in my emotions that one absent phone call was causing.
I willed myself not to pounce on my phone the moment I stepped into my bedroom and instead busied myself on the internet, the greatest tool of procrastination ever invented. But after a half-hour of mindless web surfing, my curiosity got the better of me and I reluctantly reached for the phone.
1 missed call.
The phone snapped open in my hand but there was no message, only Edward’s name blinking at me expectantly. I pressed send.
“About time,” Edward greeted me drolly. “I called almost an hour ago.”
“I was downstairs having dinner with Charlie,” I replied.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to call me back.”
And I was beginning to think you weren’t going to call at all… “It’s not like I was sitting around waiting for you to call or something,” I lied glibly. “I returned your call as soon as I checked my phone.”
Edward chuckled. “I have to admit, I was kind of hoping I’d hear from you sooner.”
“Oh.” I glanced at the clock. “I guess it is kind of late. You have to get up early tomorrow for school.”
“And you don’t, fighter girl,” Edward snickered again. “What do you plan to do with all that free time of yours?”
I twisted a lock of hair around my finger. “Oh, I don’t know. Sleep late, watch some TV, maybe go to Port Angeles and hang out.”
“Alone?” Edward’s tone turned sharp.
I raised a brow. “Do I need a chaperone?”
“What if you run into that asshole?”
“Edward, if I run into James, I will merely walk away. What’s he going to do? Beat me up?”
“Or worse.”
“Oh please, Edward,” I groaned. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. Besides, he’s just some dumb punk. Don’t worry so much.”
Edward sighed. “Please don’t go to Port Angeles. I’ll worry whether you want me to or not.”
“We’ll see,” I compromised. “I’ll probably just stick around Forks tomorrow, anyway. Not sure if Charlie would appreciate me gallivanting around when I’m technically supposed to be punished.”
“Good. Does that mean I can come by and see you after school tomorrow?”
A little tremor of elation coursed through me. “Here?”
“Yes, there.”
“I’d have to ask Charlie.”
“I’ll come by after dinner, then.”
I grinned. “Sounds like a plan, Edward.”
I hung up the phone, grinning as I looked around my room, only vaguely wondering how I would tell Charlie about my impending visitor. I wasn’t sure if he would care or not but that wasn’t going to stop me from seeing Edward.
Edward excited me. At the same time, I felt a little calmer inside when he was around. With a small jolt of wonder, I realized I was more comfortable around him then I’d ever been with another person. I closed my eyes, conjuring up images of his crooked grin, the way his bronze hair would fall into his green eyes when he leaned down to kiss me. What a beautiful face/ I have found in this place/ That is circling all around the sun/ What a beautiful dream/ That could flash on the screen...
The next night, I cooked lasagna for Charlie in the hopes that it would make him a little more amiable when I talked to him about Edward.
“Hey Charlie.” I leaned against the counter, shifting my eyes from him and letting my hair hide my hot cheeks. Charlie glanced up from his newspaper. “Is it okay if I have someone over tonight?”
Charlie looked pleased. “Of course, Bella. I’m glad to see you’re finally making friends.”
I was positive if Charlie knew how me and my 'friend' spent our time together he wouldn't be so pleased.“Uh, yeah. He’ll be here in a little bit, then.”
“He?” Charlie’s smile plummeted from his face. “Who’s ‘he’?”
“Edward.” I shuffled under Charlie’s growing glower.
“Edward Cullen?” he said darkly, the crow’s feet around his eyes deepening as he scowled. “You couldn’t find another boy to make friends with? A nice boy?”
“Edward is a nice boy,” I defended lamely, avoiding eye contact. “He’s just a little misunderstood.”
Charlie scrutinized me, a look of understanding dawning on his face. “You like this boy?”
“Can we not talk about this?” I mumbled, flushing deeply. “No offense, Charlie but…”
“Fine. But you have to leave the door to your room open. I don’t want any funny business going on in this house.” Charlie’s face flushed scarlet and he cleared his throat awkwardly, obviously as uncomfortable with the conversation as I was.
"Charlie!” I groaned. “Okay, okay. The door stays open.”
“Edward Cullen,” Charlie muttered under his breath, shaking his head.
The doorbell rang promptly at seven. I flew from my room and raced down the stairs, barely avoiding a collision with Charlie as he lumbered out of the living room. He smirked as he opened the door and I rolled my eyes, glaring at him.
“Good evening, Chief Swan,” Edward said politely, stifling a smile as I peeked out from behind Charlie.
“Edward,” Charlie responded stiffly, grudgingly moving aside to let him in. Charlie was a maladroit actor, playing his role with a good deal of unease etched on his face. Edward, on the other hand, was a smooth operator, suave and courteous. He stuck out his hand and shook Charlie’s, the smallest of crooked smiles curving his lips. Grace under pressure/ Cooling palm across my brow/ Eyes of an angel...
“Okay, enough of that,” I announced loudly, tugging at Edward’s sleeve. “C’mon, let’s go upstairs.”
“Sure.” Edward’s grin grew; I detected a slight spark in his eye, that hungry expression fighting to remain under wraps as he regarded me.
“Door open, Bells,” Charlie reminded me sternly.
“Charlie!” I hissed back, making a slashing motion across my neck with my hand. “Knock it off! I know.”
Charlie just growled and wandered back to the television, and I led Edward to my bedroom.
“So, this is your room...” Edward peered around the tiny space. I leaned casually against the doorframe and pulled my hair off my neck, suddenly feeling a little flushed.
“It’s no great shakes but it works,” I answered. His presence seemed huge in my tiny room, as if his already tall frame had grown, lean and strong, right before me. His eyes raked across the old, worn rocking chair in the corner before settling on my narrow cluttered little desk.
“And this is your desk.” Edward’s long lean fingers traced a line on the edge of my desk.
He turned and headed for the bed. “And your bed."
“Uh, yeah.” I furrowed my forehead. “So far, so good, Captain…”
Edward chuckled, a little sharply. “I’m just deciding where I’m going to fuck you when it comes to that.”
My knees buckled as a lick of hot white passion whipped through me as I also imagined what he would do to me on various pieces of my bedroom furniture.
I cleared my throat. “That’s… quite pervy of you,” I choked out.
Edward only looked smug as he approached me. “But you liked it.” He pushed a lock of hair away from my face and leaned in to kiss me. At first his lips just grazed mine, lightly. Then the kisses became more insistent, demanding, and I gasped as he roughly pulled me into his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around me.
Finally, with great reluctance, I broke the kiss. “Charlie could come up here any second,” I rasped, sagging against his arms. “He’ll go apeshit if he catches us.”
“Charlie won’t come up here,” Edward replied as his finger curled into my hips. “Trust me.”
“How do you know?” I doubtfully replied. “He’s probably at the bottom of the stairs right now.”
“Bella.” Edward tugged me into my bedroom and we half waltzed until I resting against my desk. It’s wooden edge bit into the tops of thighs, making me squirm. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I am-“ I bit off my sentence with a soft sigh as Edward slipped a hand under my sweater, his fingers warm and slightly calloused against my flesh, tickling me. His other hand crept up my back, until he had wrapped a hank of my hair in his fist. He pulled on it, forcing me to raise my head and look at him. “Kiss me,” he commanded, giving my tresses another sharp tug. They’re going to send us to prison, for sure/for having vague ideas of ways to turn each other on again…
I obeyed, pushing my tongue greedily into his mouth, and his fingers bit into my skin. Edward’s breath was ragged against my lips and I moaned, causing him to tighten his grip on my hair and kiss me deeply.
“Now,” Edward murmured as he released my hair. “Did you put on that sexy little outfit just for me?”
I sputtered a laugh, surprised at the question. “Maybe.”
Edward gathered the cloth of my black corduroy skirt in one hand, pulling it up over the heavy cotton of my stockings, his eyes hooded as he leaned in to nibble at the hollow of my neck. My own hands started working and I found the hem of his button down, curled my fingers over the waist of his jeans, the leather belt smooth against my palms. Edward’s breath hitched as I traced my fingertips up over his taut belly, feeling the soft trail of hair and letting it lead my hands down to where I started.
“Bella,” Edward said warningly. “You’d better behave or else.”
“Or else what?” I teased, reaching up to kiss his neck. I found the belt buckle and easily undid it though I fumbled embarrassingly with the buttons on his jeans. Edward growled, guttural, feral. His hands were on my waist, lifting me so I was half sitting on the desk, balancing on my tiptoes and pushed open my thighs.
“Oh my,” Edward whispered huskily, “You really are going to be the death of me.”
His gaze was trained on the swath of my alabaster thighs, stark against the black of my skirt and thigh-hi stockings. He swung his gaze to the open door and grinned deliciously.
“You better hope like hell Charlie doesn’t come up here.” His fingers traced the edge of the edge of my panty. “Because we’ll both be arrested for what I plan to do to you.”
Before I could respond he grabbed me again, swinging me easily onto my bed. The tiny frame groaned as I fell back and Edward stretched out next to me, one hand going to the back of my neck while the other tugged at my panties.
“Take them off,” he said hoarsely and I scrambled to comply. His fingers dipped into my cunt and I moaned, loudly.
“Shhh,” Edward admonished, plunging his fingers inside me again. I bit back a groan. “Don’t make a sound.”
I nodded but a small whimper escaped me as he circled my clit with his thumb, keeping an even rhythm as he moved one, then two fingers in and out. My hips bucked against his hand and another small mew burst from my lips.
“Ah, ah,” Edward whispered in my ear, his fingers tightening around my neck. “One more peep out of you and I’ll stop.”
“Oh?” I shifted slightly, his fingers still inside of me, and tugged at his jeans. “I don’t think you will.”
His eyes widened when I eased my hand down into his boxer shorts and wrapped around his hard cock that was trapped by his clothing. Edward lifted his hips a little and I pulled it out. Gently, I stroked him and his breath caught, his eyes closing as he sighed in pleasure.
“Told you so,” I whispered, sliding my hand down the shaft toward his balls. He gasped as I cupped them, squeezing slightly.
He pulled me closer to him, roughly, and he thrust his fingers deeper, pushing into me, filling me and I groaned as loudly as I could before his mouth crushed against mine.
Our kisses deepened and grew as our hands moved in tempo across each other’s bodies. A tingling pleasure coursed through me, growing, threatening to take over and I arched my back with a whimper even as my hand tightened slightly on his cock.
“Not yet,” he whispered into my ear, raggedly, breath hot against my skin. I stroked the tip of his penis with my thumb and a growl rumbled through Edward’s chest.
“Please,” I yelped. My thighs were quivering against his forearm, begging him not to stop. Edward shuddered, his own climax growing and thumbed my clit, demanding orgasm.
I rocked against his fingers as I came, my hands curling around fistfuls of his hair, biting back the moan that was threatening to escape. Edward groaned again, his body stiffening as I quickened my strokes on his cock. It grew beneath my hand and he moaned softly again, wrapping his arms around me as he came.
For a few moments there was no sound in my bedroom except our unsteady, heavy breaths, slowly returning to normal. My heart pounded in my chest and I buried my face in Edward’s neck, breathing in his mysterious woodsy scent. He stroked my hair.
“Bella,” he breathed and I thrilled to hear him say it. “My god, Bella.”
“Uh huh,” I murmured back, hiding a pleased smile. “Me too.”
Edward kissed me again and carefully adjusted my clothes. I handed him a tissue from the night table and we cleaned up in silence before I found myself being pulled back into his arms. I tipped my head back to peer into his eyes.
Their emerald color was dark and shadowed, his gaze intense as he regarded me silently.
“You are so beautiful,” he said suddenly, in a muted voice. “I remember the first time I sat next to you in Biology. You had no idea just how lovely you are.”
I gave a small contented yawn. “You’re not so hard on the eyes yourself,” I said, snuggling closer to him.
Then we fell into silence and, for the first time I could remember, I felt content.” And this is the room/ One afternoon I knew I could love you/ And from above you how I sank into your soul/ Into that secret place where no one dares to go...
Charlie was making a fuss downstairs and his banging echoed up the hall, breaking our reverie. Reluctantly, I pushed myself up and looked at Edward, who had a small sated smile playing on his lips.
“You probably should go,” I said, regret in my voice. Edward merely nodded and sat up, still staring at me.
“I’ll see you soon?”
“Of course.” I grinned. “I’d like that.”
“Good.” Edward moved toward me again and brushed his palm against my cheek.
“Come on.” I tugged at his arm. “Before Charlie comes up here to investigate.”
We walked quietly down the stairs together and stopped in the foyer. I peered behind me, into the living room to make sure Charlie wasn’t lurking. Satisfied, I turned back to Edward. His cheeks had taken on a bit of a flush, his hair was more tousled than normal and he wore a languid, lazy crooked smile as he leaned down to kiss me.
“Have a good night, Bella Swan,” he whispered, his lips brushing mine.
“Same to you,” I breathed back.
“I already did.” Edward’s smile grew and touched my cheek softly. Then he was gone.
I tried to ride the high of spending time with Edward as long as I could, but by Wednesday I was ready to jump off a cliff. Charlie told me that some of the Quileute boys were fond of cliff jumping and, had it not been nearing the end of winter, I probably would have joined them. Instead, I paced the confines of Charlie’s house for the umpteenth time, swinging my arms rhythmically in time to the music pumping through my arms. Oh Nothing Changes Round Here, Oh Nothing Changes Round Here/ Oh No/ Oh But I See You Now On The Outskirts Of Town/ But The Fog Gets So Heavy…
I had been suspended once in Phoenix and it was nothing compared to the sheer torture of being suspended in Forks. Phoenix was a city, and I was free to wander it to my delight. My suspension had been nothing more than a weeklong vacation.
By comparison, time slogged to a near standstill in Forks. There was nothing to do but watch television, listen to music, or surf the internet. I debated going to the diner for lunch but knew that would only earn me curious stares. Or hostile ones, if the patrons knew what had put me out of school in the first place.
The doorbell rang, clanging dustily and I raced to the front door, eager to talk to someone, anyone. Now I knew why solitary confinement was such an effective punishment. I was certainly not a social person, but even I found isolation and lassitude intolerable.
The postman greeted me amicably, and even before he handed off the package, I knew who it was from. Before I could refuse, he dumped the box in my outstretched hands and turned away from the house, leaving me on the front stoop, staring at the parcel as if it were about to blow up in my hands.
It was perfectly square and very light, almost as if it were empty. I gave it a tentative shake and its content whispered against the box. I shook it harder, hoping to hear the tinkling of broken glass. The urge to drop kick the box across the wet yard was overwhelming but, with a sigh, I retreated back into the house and shut the door.
My hands trembled a little as I slid a knife under the packing tape and pried open the cardboard flaps. Renee’s messy handwriting greeted me and my chest tightened. I raked a chair across the kitchen floor and fell into it.
A rueful giggle began to build in my stomach as I began to read the note. When I got to Renee’s lament about feeling lonely in Florida and how hot the weather was, that giggle grew. It finally burst spontaneously from my lips when she gushed about the beautiful condo she and Phil were living in and how they were planning a second honeymoon to Cancun later in the year. The absurd laughter grew until tears were streaming from my cheeks and I doubled over, choking on it, appalled at how absolutely selfish and ridiculous my mother really was. The paper crumpled in my fist easily and I tossed it across the kitchen, sourly looking at my surroundings as my mirth subsided. A glutton for punishment, I peered into the package again and pulled out something soft, wrapped in cheap decorative tissue.
The mittens were knitted with soft, muted colors and I tugged one on. It was bulky, warm and traveled easily to my elbow. I stared at my covered hand, feeling tears prick the back of my eyelids, hot and irritating. Carefully, I counted out my breaths, focused on pushing back the surge of emotion that was grumbling inside of me.
And then, nothing. The wool mitten was smooth as I slid it from my hand and chucked it back into the box, interlocked the flaps.
I retreated to my room and stood in the middle of the small, cramped space, holding the box out at arm’s length. I remained still, until my shoulders and arms began to protest their position. My fingers seemed so white and fragile against the grainy cardboard; I didn’t like how dry it felt against my skin. Almost of their own accord, my hands released the box and it fell to the ground with a soft whoosh, the faint wind of acceleration touching my face. With a swift kick, I sent the box scuttling across the carpet, where it came to rest beneath my bed, peeking out just a little.
I wanted to call Renee and tell her to stay out of my life, tell her that I didn’t need her, but I couldn’t. I knew if I heard her voice I would not be able to contain all the thoughts that were threatening to converge and engulf me. I leaned over and grabbed my cell phone, cradling it in my palm, staring at the glossy, blank and empty face. It gave a click as I flipped it open and the face came alive as I scrolled through the contacts. It didn’t take long to go through the pitifully short list. I’m on my own now/ you’ve gone and left me/ I bet you don’t know/ how you’ve upset me…
I erased my mother’s name and shut the phone.
And screamed when it instantly began to ring.
“Hello?” I answered breathlessly.
“You sound like you just finished running a marathon,” Edward chuckled.
“Oh. Yeah, something like that.” There was no point in discussing the gift with anyone, I reasoned. It will be as if it never existed.
“How was school?” I asked.
“Boring. Dull. Tedious. And very lonely without you,” he replied. The phone gave a scuffling sound as Edward settled himself. “How was suspension?”
“Boring, dull, tedious,” I laughed but it sounded off. “The usual.”
“What did you do today?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing,” Edward repeated dubiously. “You sat around and did nothing all day?”
I sighed. “I cleaned up a little bit. Took a shower. Did some laundry.” Irritation rang down the line. “That’s about it.”
“What’s your problem?” Edward asked me, annoyed.
I took a deep breath and tried to focus. I imagined Edward kissing me, his warm arms heavy around my body, pulling me in. I wanted him to soothe me, kiss away the strange empty hollowness that always seemed on the brink of consuming me.
“Nothing,” I answered lightly instead. “Sorry, I’m just cranky from being bored all day. Tell me something that happened in school today.” I tried to steer the subject from me.
Edward hesitated. “Nothing happened today, I already told you that. What are you doing tonight?”
“I don’t know,” I sighed as I fell onto my bed, narrowing my eyes to study the ends of a thick lock of hair. They were split, a little, and surprisingly redder than I thought my hair was. “Being on good behavior, I guess.”
“Sounds… fun.”
“Not in the least.” I rolled over, squashing the phone between my ear and a pillow.
Edward’s voice sounded muffled and far away. “Well, you’re doing nothing and I’m doing nothing so I think we should do nothing together.”
“Um, I saw you Monday.” I twisted again. “And I’m not so sure I want to tell Charlie that I’m seeing you again. He might think things.”
I pulled the phone from my ear as Edward’s angry voice resonated through it.“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Talk about temper.
“What do you mean ‘what do I mean’?” I retorted. “I mean, I don’t want him getting any funny ideas.”
“About what?” Edward’s tone was dangerous. “I don’t know!” I pressed my palms to my forehead and closed my eyes as a hint of a headache started to form. “Listen, I don’t know what I’m saying. Never mind.”
“Tell me what you were going to say,” Edward demanded. “I’m serious Bella, I’m starting to get really pissed off.”
I groaned. “Edward, just drop it. I’m just being stupid, that’s all.”
“You don’t want Charlie to know that we’re together?”
“No!”
“Well, fine then.” I could practically feel the anger emanating through the phone.
“Wait, that’s not what I meant!” I moaned, rolling my eyes, frustrated. “I don’t care if he knows, Edward. I just don’t know how to tell him yet.”
“We are together, right?” Edward asked, apparently mollified by explanation.
If my emotions weren’t spinning out of control, I would have been elated. Instead, I just felt confused. But I said, with as much happiness as I could muster, “Of course, Edward.”
But I didn’t know how to feel. I liked Edward, very much. But no one I had ever loved seemed to stick around very long.
I wanted to tell Edward why I was really upset but I couldn’t. It seemed so inconsequential somehow, from an outside point of view. So I said nothing, not to Edward, not to Charlie.
But it gnawed me to the bone.
The next day Charlie gave me a worried when he came home from work.
“How was your day?” he asked cautiously, hanging up his gun belt. Clearly, he'd hoped my cheery mood would last longer than a few days. The disappointment was evident in the way he crinkled his eyes at me.
“It was good,” I replied lightly. “How was yours?” I was going to have to get better at making small talk if I was going to keep up this "how was your day?" talk for long. It was getting redundant and stale. Fast.
“The usual.” The door on the fridge groaned open and Charlie peered inside. “Hey, what say you and I go to the diner and get some dinner? My treat.”
The offer surprised me; I knew Charlie often went to the diner for lunch but this was the first time he’d offer to go out to eat with me. “Sure. That sounds good.”
The short ride from Charlie’s to the diner was filled with awkward silence and both of us tumbled from the car, eager to get inside where the humdrum of other people would distract us from each other.
“Chief,” the waitress smiled warmly at him and put two menus down. Her light blond hair was pulled back in a messy chignon at her neck and her tall willowy frame reminded me of a ballerina’s. She looked familiar, though I was certain I had never met her before. It did not escape my attention that she didn’t even look my way and my mood darkened.
“Evening, Annie.” Charlie smiled back absently, not bothering to look at the menu. “I’ll have the usual.”
“Sure thing.” The waitress hesitated, shifting her weight from foot to foot before she finally addressed me, her tone noticeably cooler. “And for you?”
Your head on a platter, I thought mutinously. I took a little longer than I needed to make a decision. “Veggie burger. With fries.”
Her pen hovered over her order pad for a moment before she looked back at me. "I think we may be out of veggie burgers. Let me go check..."
She turned from our table before I could reply and disappeared through the two swinging doors that led to the kitchen. I was perusing the menu for a back-up plan when she returned less than a minute later, the slightest hint of a malicious smirk seeming to dance across the corners of her lips.
“Okay, hon, I set aside the last veggie burger - we'll make it special for you." Her tone seemed suspiciously more friendly than necessary. Where did I know her from? I was obviously missing something…
And then it hit me: Annie, Lauren Mallory’s older sister. They shared the same sharp features and white blond hair. I narrowed my eyes at her.
Without giving me a chance to respond, she snapped up the menus. “Comin’ right up.” She called over her shoulder as she trounced off back to the kitchen, the doors flapping helplessly on their hinges after her.
“That bitch is going to spit in my food,” I grumbled. “She knows I beat up her sister.”
“Bella!” Charlie hissed, scandalized. “Watch your mouth.”
“Did you see how she barely looked at me? What was all that???” I defended ferociously, our voices hovering in curt whispers. “She looked at me like I was some kind of freak –“
“Listen to me, and listen to me good.” Charlie’s voice grew in volume, taking on an authoritative tone he rarely used on me. “You need to learn to accept the consequences for your actions. You attacked her sister! Did you think Annie was going to be nice about that?”
I threw up my hands. “Oh, that’s just swell, Charlie,” I exclaimed loudly. A few people shifted in their seats to look at us; I glowered back. “She’s not just going to spit in my food. I can’t imagine what she’s going to do. No, scratch that, I can but I’d rather not.”
“She isn’t going to do anything to your food! For god sake, she’s an adult!”
“I’m not eating here.” I shoved the chair back and Charlie grabbed my hand.
“Now wait one minute!” he told me angrily. “I’m trying to have a nice dinner with you. Why do you always have to ruin everything?”
I wrenched my wrist from his grasp and stood sharply. By now everyone was staring at us, clearly enjoying the show.
“You’re right, Chief Swan,” I answered loudly, so everyone could hear. “That’s what I always end up doing. I ruin everything.”
Lauren’s sister was edging toward our table with two glasses of water, confused and wary.
“Hey, you,” I called to her. “Sorry I kicked your sister’s ass. But she asked for it.”
“Bella!” Charlie slammed his fist on the table, his face burning red in anger and embarrassment. “Stop this right now!”
I stared at him coldly. “Fine. Everything’s already ruined anyway.” I sneered and kicked back the chair as I whirled and ran out of the diner.
Night had fallen and a chill whip of air slapped my face as I jumped over the three stairs and hit the streets at a full run. I didn’t know where I was going to go. And I didn’t care.
Cars zipped past me on the road, sometimes so close I could feel the pressure of movement swirling around me in a mix of cold wet wind and exhaust fumes. My hoodie hid my face from passersby as I continued down the street at a loping jog, cursing myself for leaving my iPod at home. I hummed tunelessly, forcing myself not to think about the awkward scene I had left for Charlie to deal with at the diner.
A screech of tires against asphalt startled me; I jerked my head up, instinctively scurrying further away from the road, in case some vehicle was careening toward me. Instead, I saw a shiny silver Volvo pulling over. Edward looked curiously at me through the rear view mirror as I trotted up to the passenger door and slid inside.
“Just drive,” I told him dourly. “Please.”
“Where to?”
A sigh escaped me as I stared unseeingly out the window and realized that I didn’t know where I wanted to go. And tonight those graves are mine/ take ‘em with me to county mile/ between the lovers and the small towns I’ve fled/it’s hard to think when you’re driving fast…
There was no place else for me to go.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ As always, if you have any questions, criticisms, ego strokes or hate comments - post 'em if you got 'em!
Title - Magic Trick - M. Ward_______ Lyrics Just the Other Side of Nowhere - Kris Kristofferson You are What You Love - Jenny Lewis & The Watson Twins In the Aeroplane Over the Sea - Neutral Milk Hotel Grace Under Pressure - Elbow Guest Room - The National King of Carrot Flowers - Neutral Milk Hotel Nothing Changes Around Here - The Thrills Nothing Left - Buzzcocks Song for a Dry State - Roadside Graves
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