A/N: This is my second take of the 35th chapter of Two Worlds. I read over the whole story again, and out of the rest, this chapter is the one I didn't like the most. This won't replace the chapter, but you guys can read over it and just tell me what you think. I won't replace it, no, but this chapter can be considered as a revised version. You don't have to like it. I'm, mainly, just doing this for me. =D.
Five minutes have passed since I slipped up, and the play, Oliver Twist, had started its second part. Of course, I was too busy cursing under my breath to notice. How could I let something slip like that? After all my hard work I've put into hiding my secret… I just can't believe it. Edward will definitely hate me now. He doesn't like Yasmin very much, and now that he knows that Bella is Yasmin, and Yasmin is Bella…
I hope he won't make such a big deal when he breaks up with me. A simple "It's over" would suffice.
"I guess you'd want an explanation then," I said as I slid into our ride home, which happened to be a rented car. I don't own a car, since I can't drive one. Perhaps it's time I should learn. I should talk to Charlie about that.
The inside of the car was freezing cold, and I regretted not bringing some kind of insulation, a shawl, jacket or anything, with me tonight. Who knew that a musical could last three hours? Where did all the time go? It just…went by so fast I guess.
Too fast in my opinion, now I have to talk to Edward.
"It depends on what you think," he said, a thoughtful crease on his brow. "I already managed to figure things out, though I'm currently reprimanding myself for not noticing all the signs before. I doubt you would want any more confusion, but it's not my decision to make."
I sighed before saying, "So in lesser words, you're just saying that I should explain everything – as in from the very beginning?"
"Like I said," he shrugged ever so lightly, "it's your decision."
"It might be my decision to explain or not, but you still want me to do so. Just answer me, Edward."
"Yes" was his simple reply. I don't know how to respond to him right now. Either he speaks in long sentences that I can barely understand, or he speaks so simply that I feel he's not giving me enough information.
"Fine…" I muttered. Closing my eyes, I leaned back on the seat and took a deep breath. When I got my thoughts ready, I opened them and said, "It all started when I was just thir–"
"Wait," he pressed a finger on my lips, hindering me from speaking. "Let's not talk about it here. You don't want any…" he tilted his head slightly to the front of the car, where the driver was eyeing us warily in the rearview mirror, "…stray ears listening in," he whispered, sending shivers up and down my spine.
I nodded my head in understanding. Right, there are always snoops wherever I go. For all I'd know, if I explain everything to Edward in this car, then it might be in TMZ the next day, maybe even in the next hour or so. "Sure, where should we talk then?" I asked, whispering back.
"How about where you are staying; you're staying at a hotel or something, right?"
"Not exactly…" The image of my house popped into my mind's eye. I wonder how Edward will react to the fact that I own a house.
"Bella, what are you saying?" he asked slowly, his frown deepening. I smiled mysteriously before settling comfortably in my seat. "Bella, tell me what you are thinking. It's frustrating, having a talent like mine, and yet, I can't use it against you."
"I know," I giggled, "isn't it a great. A girl like me can never have enough privacy."
"You mean a celebrity like you?"
"No," I shook my head. "It's nothing to do with that." I couldn't help but think: is Edward stereotyping me? Just because I'm a celebrity doesn't necessarily mean I have a hard time getting enough privacy. Although it is true, because of the paparazzi I can't be alone anywhere, I don't think being famous is the only reason for my lack of privacy. Having an overprotective Police Chief father is one, and having a vampire for a boyfriend is another. It's disconcerting when I know Edward can hear everything I do, even if I was in another room.
I signaled for the driver, his name was Joe and he's been my driver for over a year and a half, to go to my house instead of the hotel where Edward was staying in. My house was only a few minute's drive from the theater, so that meant in a few minute's time, I'll be spilling my guts to Edward. I just hope he forgives me. He told me his secret a long time ago, but I haven't found the courage to tell him mine.
"Hey," Edward, seeing my discomfort, took my hand and began rubbing circles with his thumb. "Don't be afraid, Isabella," he whispered ever so softly in my ear. "Everything will turn out just fine."
That eased my nervousness slightly. At least he's willing to listen. I internally smacked myself; of course he's willing to listen. Why else would he be here, in the car? He could've run away and never talked to me again, but he didn't. He's still here, holding my hand, whispering soft encouragements in my ear.
"Thank you, Ms. Stone," the old man said. I could see a small smile hiding behind his beard. "I'll be here tomorrow morning to pick you up. Your Ms. Agnes Peterson told me this morning about your schedule for tomorrow."
I nodded my head and picked up my things, before exiting the car.
"Where are we?" asked Edward. The wind picked up, blowing his already unruly hair around and I felt my heart rate pick up. I forced myself to look away. He is so not making this easy for me.
I did not say anything in response. Instead, I punched the combination to open the gate. The gates slowly opened, revealing a cobbled road. I smiled wistfully, remembering an argument with my dad about this particular road. He had wanted a cemented one, and I wanted a cobbled one. It's pretty clear who won. Anyway, he was able to turn the patio into an entertainment room, so it was a win-win situation: he got his entertainment room, and I got my cobbled road.
"Bella, please say something."
"Just hold on a minute, Edward," I said, rummaging into my handbag. Where did I put my house keys? I distinctly remember grabbing them from my bedside table, so why aren't they in my bag? All of a sudden, I groaned in frustration, I left them on the kitchen counter. I was eating that piece of cake… "Silly," I told myself. How could I have forgotten my keys?
"What's wrong?" Edward asked, his worry very clear. "Did you forget something at the theater? The car?
"No, no…I just…" I checked my pockets, though my dress only had one. I can't believe it. I locked myself out of the house. Unbelievable. Smiling despairingly, I looked up at Edward and sighed, "Follow me. The door's locked, so there's no way in. If we're lucky, the pool house will be open. We can crash there for the night."
"We don't have to swim, do we?" he chuckled. At least he's having a good time. He doesn't have to worry about being locked out of his own house. He probably wouldn't. He could just break a random window or something. I doubt Esme will be that mad at him for breaking a window.
The pool house came into view moments later. It wasn't much, only containing a small room with a sofa set inside, and a bathroom. It had no use other than to store deckchairs, plastic beach balls and towels. I immediately reached for the lone flower pot on the window pane and lifted it up, revealing a rusty metal key.
"That's typical," Edward stated.
Raising my eyebrows, I replied, "Yes, well, it's so typical that no one would think that the key's there in the first place. It's reverse psychology." I opened the small wooden door, which happened to be the back door, the front being on the inside of the house, and stepped inside, careful to wipe my shoes on the mat.
"Make yourself comfortable," I said, indicating to the wooden couch set. The designs were carved so intricately, when I was younger, I was afraid to sit on these chairs in fear of destroying them. Of course, Dad always told me that they won't break, and he was right.
Edward seated himself on a chair, the moonlight from the window casting half his face in shadow. I turned on the light, not wanting to talk to only half of Edward's face. That would be creepy, talking to just half a face, and besides, all this lack of lightness is making me sleepy. I don't want to fall asleep yet. I've got explaining to do.
Grabbing a pillow and hugging it, I settled myself on a different chair from Edward, so that we were face to face. I looked deep into his eyes before I said anything, and it was comforting to know that Edward didn't complain when I didn't speak for quite some time.
"I'm sorry," I finally whispered out. The naked curiosity and understanding in his eyes made me feel guilty. I felt guilty for hiding this from him, and I felt guilty that he understands me. I really, really, don't deserve him. I've tricked him, downright lied to his face and kept the most important part of my life away from him. "How could you stand to look me in the eyes?" I asked, "I've lied to you."
"Not necessarily," he said. "The topic of you, Bella, being Yasmin never came up into our conversations, so technically, you haven't lied. You wanted a normal life in Forks, and in order to do that, you couldn't have been a world-famous singer."
"What I want to know though, is which is the real you." He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "What I mean is: is Isabella Swan really your name, or is it Yasmin Stone?"
"I'm Isabella Marie Swan, daughter of Charles Swan, the current Chief of Police of Forks, Washington," I said. My voice was wavering slightly in nervousness, but I chose to ignore it. I can't be nervous now. I need all the confidence I could muster to be able to tell Edward everything. I can't chicken out. "Yasmin Stone is just an alias – a stage name for the celebrity me. Bella is the clumsy brunette, while Yasmin is the graceful blonde."
I tugged on my wig and it fell off instantly. I was still wearing the wig cap, so I took it off also, letting my brown hair – my real hair – stumble over my shoulders. I placed the wig and the wig cap on the small table in front of us. It laid there, limp and lifeless, like some sort of dead animal. My eyebrows shot up; I never thought of my wig as a dead animal.
"Why didn't you tell me about this?" Edward picked up the wig and studied it closely, fingering each strand as if he was making sure they were real in his hands.
"I was afraid that you'll hate me," I whispered, so quietly that I was half afraid that he wouldn't hear, while the other half hoping that he did not. Sadly though, or maybe not, he heard it. I guess vampire hearing is a good thing to have for times such as this.
"Hate you?" he asked, "Why would I ever hate you?" He sat up from where he was sitting and knelt down beside me. He untangled the wig from his fingers and took my hands in his. "Bella, you're the kindest, most caring, and definitely the least hateable person I know, and I am very lucky to have met you…"
Yes, but he's talking about Bella, not Yasmin. He's only talking about one half of me.
"But you're the same person," he lifted my chin up using his cold finger, "Bella or Yasmin, you're still the same person."
"No, we're not," I did not meet his eyes. I don't want to meet his eyes. I will not meet his eyes. "Bella is just a simple girl, who goes to school, and has fun with her friends. Yasmin is an international superstar, who can't go out in public without having the paparazzi hound her for pictures. They're –"
"Listen to me," he lifted my chin higher, so I closed my eyes. "Bella, open your eyes." I kept them closed. "Open your eyes, Bella, please." How could I refuse that voice? I slowly opened my eyes, meeting his topaz ones.
"I don't hate you; I don't think that's even possible. In fact, I feel the exact opposite. Whether you're at school as Bella, or on stage as Yasmin, you're still the same girl that caught my heart, and refused to let go of it. Yes, you might have different color hair, but so do Theodore and I, and in truth, we're still vampires – I'm still a vampire…and you're still you."
I sniffed again. What he said made sense. It doesn't matter who I am, for deep inside, I'm still me, and no amount of wigs or other disguises can ever change that.
"So, you don't hate me then?" I asked in a small voice, an equally small smile on my face.
"Didn't I just say that I don't hate you?" he chuckled, "What ever gave you the idea that I do?"
I glanced fleetingly at my wig, which was behind Edward on the sofa. Unfortunately, Edward saw me.
"You know, I was just being immature about not liking Yasmin. I was jumping to conclusions when I found out that she sold her clothes, and when you told me about the money going to charity, I was too stubborn to admit to anyone, not even myself, that it was for a good cause…that Yasmin might not be that bad. To be honest, I've been tolerant of Alice liking her long since before you moved to Forks, and I've grown fond of her music."
I let myself sigh in relief. He doesn't hate me, Bella or Yasmin. He does not hate me. He does not hate me! I smiled hugely, my miniaturized version of myself doing a funky dance at the revelation. He doesn't hate me! Edward doesn't hate me!
Feeling confident, I daringly asked, "I'm curious, though…how did you figure out that Yasmin was Bella?" Thinking back to the publicity dinner, I said, "I know you somehow figured stuff out in the publicity dinner. I mean, Agnes' mind was like a book for you." I frowned at the memory of Agnes flirting with Edward, or in that case, Theodore. "I guess that explains why you were glaring at me…"
"Glaring?" he asked, flabbergasted, "I wasn't glaring."
"Yes you were," I insisted. "I remember you glaring at me, umm, after Agnes mentioned Chinese food. I was sure then you knew Yasmin was – that Yasmin was me."
"Actually, I didn't figure things out until you tripped and I fell. I remember thinking then, how Yasmin's face looked the same as yours every time I catch you when you fall. When I was 'glaring'," he grinned as he quoted me, "I was frustrated at how there's another person whose mind I can read. Of course, that's not true, since those two persons are just one person."
I blinked at his explanation.
"I understand…" I said faintly. "But, wouldn't you have noticed that you couldn't read my – Yasmin's – mind when you first met her – me – at the audition? Or what about at the recording studio?" He had plenty of opportunities to have read my mind then.
Edward ducked his head awkwardly in embarrassment, "I," he cleared his throat, "I was too preoccupied with the place. I've never been to Hollywood before. Never had the chance, really, and also, the minds of everyone else were brimming with last minute preparations. As for the audition, I was afraid that I won't be picked. Alice wouldn't tell me the outcome."
"Okay…how about during the plane ride?"
He smirked before answering smoothly, "I can't think straight when you're distracting me. Then, I believed you were in Phoenix with Angela on a field trip, and I was missing you terribly. Our constant exchange of messages kept my mind occupied and away from everyone else in the plane. Angela's mind was screaming loudly for cotton candy, though. I couldn't help but overhear her.
"One thing I found odd though, was that you – as in Bella – liked the same chocolate as Yasmin. She, I mean, you, was eating some, and it reminded me of the detention session Bella-you and I attended."
I barely kept my face straight as Edward tried to say what he was trying to say. I liked it when his blinks every time he stumbles over his words. "It is quite hard," I sniggered, "when you're trying to convey to someone what their other half of their life was doing, especially since it's just one person altogether." I blinked several times, trying to comprehend what I just said. It made such perfect sense in my head, but now, I doubt it really does. I smiled wistfully to myself as I buried deeper into my thoughts.
"What're you smiling at?" Edward asked, though I think he knows why. I did not answer, but instead planted a kiss on his lips. "What was that for?"
"For accepting me…" I whispered to his chest, in which my face was buried, encased in his cold, strong arms. "For everything you've done for me." He chuckled, his laughter rumbling across his chest, and I felt the vibrations underneath me.
"I couldn't have done any less, Bella," he said, "you've accepted me, and it's only good for me to accept you too. Though, I still would've done the same otherwise."
"So this means you're not breaking up with me?" I asked quietly. Edward stiffened as he growled out a fierce no. "Thank you," I whispered, wrapping my arms around his neck. He scooped me up and sat down on my chair. He leaned back so that we were both lying down, his head resting on the pillow I was hugging earlier on, and I began drifting off to sleep. "Thank you, for everything, Edward…"
"Sleep," Edward kissed me softly on my forehead, "my Bella. Rest peacefully…"
And so I slept, not really caring that Angela will wake up tomorrow, and see the both of us in here, not really caring that I might have to tell the rest of the Cullens about my secret too, and definitely not caring about the stiff neck that I'll get come tomorrow morning, because even if I have to start shooting for the music video tomorrow, I'm in the arms of the man I love, and I have not, in such a long time, felt this happy – this blissful, perfect, glad, joyful – in my entire life.
A/N: Well, here you are. You guys can review if you want. I don't really mind. I would like to know though, if this is better than the other one, or maybe it's not. I won't really know until someone tells me.