|Why I Love My Truck
Author: sillybella PM
Bella is always reluctant when Edward wants to buy her a new car. Is there a secret reason she likes her truck so much? And don't worry where they are driving. It doesn't matter.Rated: Fiction M - English - Humor - Words: 597 - Reviews: 308 - Favs: 347 - Follows: 70 - Published: 02-01-07 - Status: Complete - id: 3371697
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
Thanks to Be My Escape for her great work as a beta-reader.
Bella is always reluctant when Edward wants to buy her a new car. Is there a secret reason she likes her truck so much?
Why I Love My Truck
by silly bella
Edward didn't like my truck. I couldn't imagine why. It might not go fast, but it was safe. As Charlie had said when he gave it to me, "It's a good car for you." Meaning for me. The truck was a tank. Indestructible. It really was a good vehicle for me.
"You'd really like an Audi coupe. You could pick the color." Edward smiled from the passenger seat. He really wanted to buy me a new car.
That was the other thing he didn't like: riding shotgun. He much preferred driving. I was never sure how much of his driving my truck could take. I'd never had a day's worry with it, but it couldn't go over fifty-five miles per hour. Anything over that, and the truck began to vibrate. Or when you stopped at a stoplight, waiting for the green light, and the idle was a little rough. There were benefits to those things. Things that would never happen with a new car.
I sped up a bit, just over the limit on the truck's engine. The vibration came. I sat up a little straighter in the seat. Shifted my hips a little. When you have a boyfriend who can barely kiss you without killing you, you have to make some adaptations. This was one of them. I squirmed a little bit, getting the full effect of the vibration. It made me smile. Not some little grin, but a big, happy, I've-got-eight-cylinders-under-me grin.
"You're awfully happy all of a sudden," Edward laughed.
Yes. Yes, I was. And getting happier all the time.
He narrowed his eyes. "You really do like driving, don't you?" I nodded, not wanting to break my concentration.
I braced my arms on the steering wheel, which gave more force to the movements in my upper body. The vibrations had increased, and my whole being shook along with the car. My teeth chattered. Every inch of my flesh quivered and quaked right along with the engine.
"Are you cold?" he asked. "You're shivering."
"No, not really," I could hear the tremors in my voice. "I'm fine. Just fine." Trust me; you have no idea how fine. I squirmed again and arched my back a little. Finally, I squeezed my legs together, the shaking of my own body adding the sensations from the truck.
He shook his head. "You can't even get comfortable in that seat. You keep shifting around. There are some nice trucks out there, too you know, if you just have to have a truck."
"I like my truck," I grinned. I really, really like my truck. Like right now. I felt the pulse of the car shimmer through my body. I held my breath to keep from making any noise. I felt a little flushed. Glowing. Yes-indeedy, I really liked my truck. I glanced at Edward. How could he not figure it out?
"Bella," he said, his brow lowered in confusion, "Why are you blushing?"