Blister in the Sun Part 10

Prompt: Keeping It Real by MrsSpaceCowboy

Note: This is the end, and it's hard to believe we finally made it. I'll miss this one. It's been two summer's since Smut University, but dude, I'm still remembering the good times. Love to all the other students and professors no matter what you're doing in the world now.

It's cold. Like really fucking cold. And I don't even curse all that much. That's how cold it is. And I actually kind of love it. It's different. So unlike the endless blue at home. Just all this white snow as pale as the people. Gone are the days of tanned skin and salted hair. I was such an outsider when I first moved here. Wild and free-spirited compared to the other girls of slick and clean.

I've found a happy medium since. I'm still that beach girl at heart, but the city has had its affect on me. I wear more make up, blow dry my hair, and have put away the majority of my t-shirts, but no one can take the ocean out of me. Jane says that's why all the boys flock in my direction. I'm exotic in this endless land of white. They love to hear my tales of debauchery in paradise and run their hands against my "nicely tanned" skin—even if it is slowly fading.

The attention was nice at first, helping to heal my broken heart from my green-eyed boy. But they were all a rebound of sorts because in the end I felt empty and ended up pushed them all away. Even though we are thousands of miles of ocean and land apart, he is still there.

I feel him vibrating in my pocket. I ignore the pitiful roll of my stomach at the natural thrill it sends through me. I hate how he still affects me like this. It's been countless months, too many holidays, and not enough time since I've seen his face. Tasted his lips. Touched his body. Months since I've actually heard his voice and felt his arms around me. And yet it still feels like yesterday when we said our goodbyes.

When he whispered in my ear, "Go do amazing things."

When he texted me just before takeoff. "I miss you already."

When he sent a picture of our ocean after I landed at my new home. "You deserve the world."

He's sweet. But he's always been sweet. Now it's clouded with heartbreak. And his decision to stay. Even if he didn't mean to. Even if all the circumstances around that choice has changed. I still can't help thinking that he's back at home. With Alice.

I don't know what's going on with them. The rumor going around social media was that he gave her a second chance because Jake saw them walking down Main Street a week after I left. He's posted a stolen snapshot of them with the caption "I spy these two looking a little bit too cozy" knowing I and everyone else would see it. It got forty-two likes before I stopped watching. Even the universe wants them back together.

Edward vehemently denies that. Of which part, I'm still not sure. I never really let him finish, throwing my phone across the room and ignoring anything that came through. I avoid the Internet as much as I can now and because of that, for the first time since we were kids, Edward wasn't the first one to say happy birthday to me this year. He threw a fit on Messenger, asking why I didn't answer any of his calls or texts or posts on my timeline.

"I said Happy Birthday to you."

"What are you doing?"

"Are you ignoring me?"

"What the fuck did I do now?"

"It's your birthday for Christ's sakes!"

"Just fucking answer my calls, Bella!"

I got drunk with Jane instead of replying back to him. Partly enjoying the sweet talks and flirty touches from the boys in the apartment complex. And partly wasting away inside with this need and longing for him and his sweetness.

I didn't know until the morning, but Jane had posted the better half of the night all over the Internet, including one incriminating picture of some dude's face smashed against my tits. It was a joke at the time but that's not something I want to remember years from now so I made her take it down with a few choice words.

But I know Edward saw it. His last message after his ranting fit on messenger was, "I hope you're not too hungover today."

The accusations in those simple words fuel my guilt. No matter how misplaced it seemed to be. September lasted forever.

I didn't hear from him for a week and was about to break down until he texted me all nonchalantly, "What are you doing?" I was simultaneously relieved and angry because I was glad he was still thinking of me but I hated how I wanted it so much.

He vibrates in my pocket again, pulling me from my musings, and I can't help looking. "Call me, Bell," the text says.

I don't. I haven't. Not at all. I can't. I don't know what to say. That I'm trying so hard to get over him. That I want to move on. That I don't want to base my happiness off of my best friend. So I ignore his calls and text back one-worded answers. He hates it, and I can tell he's frustrated. But that's all I'm willing to give.

My pocket vibrates again, and this time Jane looks up and laughs at me. "Sounds like you're having a masturbation fun-fest over there."

I snort. "I wish."

"Who's the desperate one?"

"Desperate." I laugh. "He kind of is." Even though I think it's me that's the more desperate of the two of us.

"Is it Edward?"

"Yeah." She knows about him only because I spilled my heart one drunken night. She's sly that, wondering why I always slapped away the chances from other boys so she brought rum over. Otherwise, he's my dirty little secret I try to forget.

"What does he want now?"

"To talk."

"So go do it."

"Nah. Some other time."

More vibrating. Jane raises her eyebrow. "He seems pretty persistent."

"I'll call him back later." I hate how I lie so easily whenever anything has to deal with him, so I try to push it to the back of mind where I store all of the other things I'd rather forget. Eating my snot on a dare. Failing math class junior year. My pretend love for Jake. But who am I trying to kid? That boy will be something I won't be able to forget in a long while at the very least.

And suddenly all this bibliography research paper hated nonsense has my full attention like I'm so excited to see it. Even Jane eyes me with suspicion. This girl with her short punk hair and bad ass shaved cut has this sort if intuition like she knows your lying and likes to poke at your exterior until your insides are screaming for you to just let it all out already. But she doesn't do that with me. Like she knows my limit. And I'm partly relieved and partly disappointed. Like maybe if I just spew it out, it'll help me get over him faster.

Instead she checks her watch, saying that Alec is expecting her and she has to bolt. She hoists her bag over her shoulder, eyeing me with that weirdo power of hers. "Go home and drink an entire bottle of rum. It'll make you feel better."

Home doesn't sounds so appealing. There's nothing there. Bare walls and sparse furniture because I don't have the heart to make it mine. Because it really isn't home. And maybe my hesitation stems from not wanting to put down roots where I know he isn't at. That's why I bought the lamp in spite of that traitorous thought. It's blue and speckled and still sitting in my closet just waiting for me to set it out. I really need it because my overhead lights are so bright that my eyes scream at my brain in pain, but I can't. Not yet.

But when Jane leaves, pushing in her chair so hard that the table shakes back and forth, I realize just how lonely the library is. There's a study group here and there, students chatting more about the weekend then about homework. This sort of cloud settles over me, as if I'm surrounded by all this impenetrable fog of aching sadness that has more to do with my thoughts than my surroundings. So I think it's better to have whatever sort of oncoming breakdown that's about to happen at my home than in public.

I can't help looking down at my phone one last time. A few of the more recent ones are from Jane saying, "Just do it!" And a couple are from a classmate, Garrett, asking about a group project due next week—we still haven't started…crap. Then there's Jasper telling me about some girl named Kate he's fucking but might actually love just a little bit. They've been doing at it for a few months already. But the majority of the texts and calls are from him. And his name alone makes me bury my phone deep into my backpack so I can ignore it and my racing heart just a little bit longer.

The wind hits me in the face as I leave the library, biting at my skin in the worst kind of ways, but I don't feel it. Maybe I've lived here long enough or maybe he just fills my mind too much that nothing else really registers. At this rate, I won't have fingers by the time I get home.

I hate how he always was able to ninja his way into my life and emotions and love without even trying. A resentment born from how his thoughts of me were never as equal to mine of him. We were never on the same level, the same page, the same whatever. That's bitter of me, but I guess I only have myself to blame for ruining this friendship that started before either of us could really remember.

I'm not even sure when it happened. One day he was the kid next door. Racing me in the ocean. Throwing sand in my swimsuit. The next, he was this hottie with fine lines on his body. Tiny boy muscles that suddenly seemed so appealing. I wasn't the only one who noticed. Rose was his first kiss. She was the early bloomer, and Edward was happy to get closer to the boobs none of the other girls in our class had.

I huff as I run up the stairs to my loft. He told me all it about in the tree house later that night. How he tried to go in for a feel. Less because he wanted to know what they felt like and more because he wanted something to tell his friends. But she'd slapped him away when his fingers were just millimeters from their destination. He'd apologized later on, but he only told me he did that.


I almost think I imagine hearing his voice because—if I admit it to myself—I want it to be true so much, but then he's there, freezing his ass off in ripped jeans and an old Iggies t-shirt, watching me with careful green eyes. The last time I saw that look he'd helped his brother steal half of my Halloween candy. Now I wonder what he's stolen from me this time. I think I already know the answer.

"Oh my god! Edward! What the hell are you doing here?"

"Fuck!" He tries to bury his hands deeper into his jean's pocket. One finger slightly pokes out of a hole deeper down. He's so out of place here. Much like I was when I first arrived. "Can we go inside? It's crazy cold out here."

"Yeah! Duh!" I quickly unlock the door, ushering him inside, trying best not to touch him when he passes by so close to me. "Come on in."

He smiles this tiny, tiny smile. Everything in me goes berserk. Fuck. "Thanks."

I watch as he throws a duffle bag onto the ground and rub his palms together, blowing softly at his hands. They're already so dry from the cold. Red and blistered and probably aching like shit. And there's me. Not too sure what to do. Do I go in for a hug? Just a friendly one like we're old pals? Or do I cop a feel? Grab his dick? His ass? Was that more appropriate? Should any sort of kissing happen? On the cheek? Or on the lips? Do I ignore the summer where we fucked like bunnies in the tree house and instead just remember a lifetime of friendship?

"Nice apartment," he says looking anywhere but at me.


"Generally lamps don't go in there." He laughs, pointing at my closet. It's like we haven't been separated for almost five months as he drags that blue speckled lamp out of my closet, plugging it in before turning off the overhead lights. A warm ambiance fills the room, completely opposite of the tempestuous storm brewing inside of me.

"Edward...what the…"

He shivers, staring intensely at my thermostat, but fuck that. Bills. "How can you stand this cold?"

"Edward!" I burst out because of the fucking elephant in the room that he's ignoring. "What the hell are you doing here?"

His shoulders deflate, and it's hard to ignore the hurt at seeing him so small and so defeated. He's still that boy with salt in his hair and a tan too cool for here. But he's lost that spark that made his eyes glitter like stars reflecting on the ocean. He's just as lost as me.

"You don't talk to me anymore, Bell."

Maybe it's how he sounds so meek. Or how he leans away from me like he's afraid. Or that he still calls me fucking Bell. But I force that hurt into anger and suddenly I am really fucking angry. And seeing him in my bare apartment and moving my lamp and turning off my lights like it's no big deal makes me want to punch him in the fucking face. It's like all these months of pent up heartbreak, wishing he would fly down to me, and sadness, hoping he stayed away, and trying to move on and then he makes a surprise visit? I am irrationally outrageous.

"So you thought you'd just pop in unexpected?" I throw my backpack to the floor not even caring when everything spills out. That's a metaphor for my life right now when it concerns him at least. Chaos and all over the fucking place.

"I tried calling…"

"When? Before you boarded or after you were already on my doorstep." A red blush peeks from beneath all that bronze-tinted skin, and I can literally seek the meek transform into annoyance.

"What the fuck does it matter? I can't visit my friend?" His voice rises just a tiny bit. Everything's tense. From the way I'm clenching my fists to how he's pursing his lips.

"Yes! This is my life! You can't just drop in whenever the fuck you want, Edward."

"Well excuse me!" He throws his hands up. "Got a hot date or something?"

"Speaking of dates, how's Alice?" It's a low jab and I know it and so does he and then he's just as angry as me.

His eyes basically stab me to death with their glare. "I wouldn't fucking know."

"You don't know how your girlfriend is doing?"

"She hasn't been my girlfriend," I laugh at how he finger-quotes the g-word looking all fucking ridiculous and shit, "in a long time. You know that, Bella."

I ignore the cut at my heart with his use of my name. He does it on purpose. I just know it. "That's not what I heard, and Jake seemed to have a different opinion on the matter. Cozy, right?"

"Fuck Jake, and I'm setting you straight right now. It's been over since that night where she fucked Jasper in the spare bedroom of my fucking house."

"You stayed for her!" Of everything, that he cannot deny.

He grabs at my shoulders but I dodge him, pressing myself into the wall opposite of where he stands. His knees are bent like he's ready to pounce in my direction again. "That was the plan at first but it changed when she cheated on me. I stayed because I'm the loser that turned down the only college that accepted me because I was waiting for a girl who wasn't worth it."

"Right!" Sarcasm plagues my voice.

"It's true! My parents gave me shit then and they're giving me even more shit now! Life is actually pretty fucking miserable at home so excuse me if I thought I could escape all of that with a visit to my best friend."

Hearing him, that final bit of information that I never let him give me, hurts when I thought it would feel good because all I've ever done is run away from him. I have the sudden urge to cry so I counteract it with more yelling. "I hate you so much!"

"I really, really hope you don't," he says slowly, his hands twisting at his shirt in agitation.

"I was just a rebound. I know that."

"You were always more than that." His voice pleads for me to listen, and I am. It's so hard to comprehend. "Maybe I just didn't know it at the time."

"You broke my heart."

"You tore me apart and then left me behind."

I glance up and he's so much closer now and I'm surprised at how I didn't feel the natural heat radiating off of his body before. His hands are twitching almost like he wants to touch me but doesn't want to scare me away. "Stop it with your words."

"I was messed up in the head after Alice, and I used you, yeah. But you used me too, Bell."

"I know." That I couldn't deny. I knew he was hurting. But so was I with Jake's breakup. We used each other to dull the pain, even if I was a little more involved than him.

"And I'm sorry it took me a long time to realize this, but…" He hesitates, staring down at his feet.

My phone vibrating on the old wood floor blares through the apartment so loud that we both glance at it. It's a relief, a break from the intensity that filled the room, so I dive for the phone at the same time he does. He's being polite. Because that's who he is. He gently hands over the device with the lit up screen and text message saying, "We still on for Wednesday?"

His eyes dance between me and it, clouding over with a simmering rage. He snatches it back before I can even reach out for it. The backlight of the phone reflects in his eyes. I've only seen that sort of anger two times ever. The first when Brady hit me a little too hard in a game of chicken, leaving a bruise the size of his palm on my arm, the second when Jake came to say goodbye to me at the airport with a half-assed apology for our last beach party drama while simultaneously saying I was never the one for him, and I guess now. This would make it number three.

"Who the fuck is Garrett?"

And it just makes me angry all over again because why should he even care with Alice waiting for him back at home? "'None of your fucking business."

"What's the big deal?" He casually shrugs his shoulder when everything else is so intense and ready to spring. "Are you fucking him or something?"

"Go shove your dick up your ass. Some of us don't go looking for rebounds." And then I remember that I did—twice—and that makes me more angry for being such a hypocrite, and then the fact that I called Garrett a rebound because that says that Edward and I had something at the very least, so pushing him away and retreating to my room feels really good.

I don't expect it. I think the conversation is over and he's going to take up my couch until I can kick him onto the next flight out of here. But then he bum-rushes me from behind so hard that we both fly forward. He wraps his arms around my waist as we land on the mattress, his weight pressing me into the bed. My scream is muffled in my sheets so I kick and wave my arms like a deranged banshee, hoping I'm at least getting a few good shots in there.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Edward!"

"Tell me, Bella!" He traps my arms against my sides, his knees boxing in my legs as he sets his entire body down on my flailing limbs.

"Get the fuck off of me, you crazy asshole!"

"Did he fuck you like I fucked you up in the tree house?" He snarls, pushing his hips between my legs, and I squeeze the fuck out of my thighs against his boney ass body, hoping it hurts just a little bit. "Hard and dirty?"

"I hate you!"

They say there's a fine line between love and hate, and I think Edward and I have found it. Because even though I'm yelling that I hate his fucking guts and wish I'd never let laid eyes on him, I think we both hear just how much I love him. It's like injecting yourself with two things at once. A high and a low. A rollercoaster of emotion. We both feel it. And maybe that's why we go from so much yelling to so much kissing to a mixture of both.

"Don't fucking say that anymore," he yells while sticking his tongue down my throat, yanking at my piercing with purpose so hard I'm afraid it'll bleed.

"Is that how you talk to Alice during sex?" I yell while digging my nails underneath his shirt and into his flesh.

"You would fucking bring her up," he yells while nipping at my throat with bites that hurt so good.

"Just like you would fucking bring up Garrett," I yell while ripping at his clothing.

He pauses, his eyes squeezed so tight like he's in pain, but it's so brief that I think I imagined it, and then he's tearing my sweater over my head, not even caring when the buttons catch my hair, probably ripping a chunk out. That fucker. So I rip off his jeans, half hoping that his zipper might catch on something important because I don't need his dick. He still has his fingers and fuck him if he thinks him getting off is more important than me.

He sucks in his breath, almost like I did catch his dick with the zipper, but it's more out of surprise than anything. He glares at my hand and then at my face, his mind churning as he thinks of a way to retaliate. That's what sets me loose because I don't want to give him a chance.

I start pulling and tearing which makes him start pulling and tearing, and soon we've done so much and so fast that we're both naked and my thighs are spread and he's on his knees between them, holding his dick in his hand. He doesn't give me warning when he slams forward. Even though I expected it, it actually kind of hurts because it's been so long.

He feels it when I flinch, freezing in remorse, his eyes watching mine carefully.

"Fuck, Bella. Are you okay?"

I grab his cheeks, pulling his face down to mine, smashing our lips together so hard that I'm forced to bite him. He jerks back, a tiny drop of blood swelling over my tooth's imprint. "Just fuck me already, Edward."

It's violent and painful as he braces himself on his knees, lifting my ass and setting my legs over his shoulders. He leans forward, bending my body almost to the point of breaking, grabbing onto the headboard, using the leverage to thrust even harder. And I love it. I love it so much because it feels so fucking good. We've never done this position before and my body's screaming at me for denying it so long.

Because it's almost too much. This pain. This pleasure. This build up that makes everything inside of me quiver and my limbs shake. "Harder! Harder! Fuck me harder!" And he listens until he reaches his strength's limit but that doesn't stop him from trying.

Everything aches. My legs protest their awkward bend. My thighs are red from where his body slaps them over and over. My arms burn from being stretched over my head to tight. But all in a good way because there isn't any way else I want him than like this right, fucking a hole into my mattress. There's no way he's fucking Alice or anyone else with all this pent up in side of him, and it's quite possible I was trying to delusion myself with other guys because I always knew he was the one for me.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Bell." He grunts down at me, his lips snarling. He finds that last wind and picks up an even more impossibly faster and harder pace. "You'll never forget this."

I know I won't.

And I know the neighbors won't either. We're horribly loud, and if I were them I'd b so fucking pissed. The headboard slams against the wall. My moans grow louder with each stab of his dick. And the litany of fucks pouring from his mouth almost like he can't help. But fuck the neighbors. They can be jealous of the spectacular fall because that's what this is. Fucking spectacular. And I may scream when I come. I'm not really sure. There's white noise in my ears when I throw my head back as everything tenses and I come as violently as I fucked.

He follows soon after. Shooting inside of me like bullets of sperm against my walls. As disgusting as that sounds, it actually feels really good, something I failed to notice the few other times we did it without a condom or him pulling out.

And then for the first time since he stepped into my apartment, everything is calm. Like the ocean right after a storm. Our hearts slow down. Our breathing levels out. Our hearing slowly comes back to us. He's slick as I run my hands down his back, following the lines of the scratches from my nails. His breath is hot against my neck and he's so fucking heavy on top of me…but I don't want him anywhere else but right here in my arms, so I hold on tight, hoping he stays there forever, knowing now that forever never lasts.

"I love you, Bell." That's what I would imagine he would say because then it would be like everything falling into place, all my hopes and wants coming true.

He lifts his head, his green eyes pleading with mine, as he makes sure his whisper doesn't fall on oblivious ears again. "I love you, Bell."

I shake my head, widening my eyes to stop the tears from falling, not really believing but unable to deny what's literally right in front of my face. "It's so cliché to say that after sex."

"I didn't mean too. I tried…before…" He grins and it's bittersweet. "But it's true. And I hope it's still true for you."

"Edward…"I don't know what to say. This is a moment I've been wishing for so long, and now that it's finally, those three little words caressing my ears, part of me thinks that maybe it's too late. That maybe there's too much between us to ever really have that so-good relationship.

"I can feel it. I'm losing you. And that's why I came." His green eyes glitter down at me, and at first I think it's the lamp playing games with its light, but then I know better. I've never seen him cry before, so when the tears fall from his eyes, I can't stop the tears falling from mine.

"Too much has happened." It's almost easier to deny him now because then at least I know I'm saving myself from inevitable heartbreak. Is that all we'll ever be? Best friends who hurt each other over and over?

"Maybe I'm selfish. Asking you too much. But I have to try. And I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it. I love you, Bell." He pulls me close, burying his face in my neck, and if I didn't know any better, I'd be oblivious to the way his shoulders shake with his sobs.

"I didn't sleep with Garrett. He's just a classmate. I barely even know him," I tell him, my resolve cracking with each muffled whimper against my skin.

"It's okay if—" He chokes on his words because we both know he doesn't want that to be okay.

"Boys have asked, but I couldn't. There's been no one else." I can't help it when I do what I've always done and kiss away his fears, and after a few little coaxes, he kisses me back and then we're kissing away all the good-pain we gave each other. Each bruise. Each scratch. Each tiny little crack to our exterior. We were always good at healing the outside. The inside is a different story all together.

He starts moving his hips because he's hard again, and I'm still so slick it's easy to accept him, and before we can get lost in round two, I pull him down for another kiss, choosing to surrender, not caring of whatever consequences await me, whispering against his lips, "I love you, Eddie."

"I don't know how it'll work out, but I want you to be there when I wake up. I want to be the first one to say happy birthday. I want you to choose me over everyone else. No more dodging or one-worded answers. I want you to be my girl."

I smile because he's so silly, and I don't think he realizes just how long we've already been doing that. From summers sleeping in the tree house to quiet celebrations at midnight to my heart's falling without my consent. "I always have been."

He's my salt and sand. My turbulent storm. The glassy water just after. The beat of the waves breaking against the shore. Sea blue and sun burnt bronze. How could I ever deny him? Especially now when he's learned he could never deny me. Maybe succumbing is my downfall. Or maybe it's my ascent to the rest of my life.

There's still so much to discuss. The big one being that he lives so far away. And then college for him next year. Where was he going? What was he going to do? What if we are separated again? What if we aren't meant for long distance? I couldn't see how it would work out without us suffering in sort of way. But that was an issue for tomorrow.

Not right now with him sliding so good inside of me. His lips brushing so softly against my throat. His whispered words of love heating my skin. He holds me close. So close that all I can do it raise my hips a tiny bit to meet each of his thrusts. And it's slow. Each one so pointed. But it's just as good as the first time.

He presses his forehead to mine, a soft grin on his face and reflecting in his eyes. His hips pick up pace though nowhere near the race from before. "You have my heart. To love. Crush. Heal. Stomp on. Whatever you want." He shakes his head in amusement, and I don't even care when his salty sweat rains down on me. "It's yours."

I laugh, pulling him closer and deeper, until my voice is nothing more than an ocean's breeze. "Worth it though, right?"