Story Name: Beep Beep
Pairing: Edward/Bella (AH)
Total Word Count: 12,550
Summary: Meaning. A sunny day. Life. Truth... A safe place... And bottomless supply of Swedish Fish. "Yesterday and Today" on vinyl. And pink pot. Because we're all searching for things. E/B entry for the High Times Contest.
Disclaimer: All rights and respects to Stephenie Meyer who owns all things Twilight, also to Missy Elliott, Outkast, Kid Cudi, Bob Marley, LCD Soundsystem, Air, Ian Ball and Gomez, and Garry Marshall.
August 17th, 2009 - B
It's my first night as a free bird.
Renee and Phil (my parents for all intents and purposes) left a few hours ago. All my boxes and bags are unpacked, and sorted into my dorm room dresser, closet, desk and bookshelves. Maria (my super-smart, super-Spring Break 24/7, roommate) is a few doors down, getting ready with all the other girls on the ninth floor of Delle Hall to hit up the clubs, bars, and frat houses. And I, am beyond thankful to finally have a few minutes all alone.
I take another pull from the smokeless one hitter Embry got me last year for my birthday, glancing from my laptop to the door.
He told me I could come by whenever; he gave me a key last time I visited, but I want to wait till I hear from him. I'm beyond excited to see him again, but it's his girlfriend, Angela's birthday. There's a party tonight and he said I was welcome whenever, but I in no way want to interrupt any birthday business that might be going down.
Embry's my best friend, my brother really. I love our foster parents just as much as he does, but he's the only person in the world I even kind of trust at all.
We were both born addicted to crystal and dumped by the people who were supposed to love us most. We're not emotionally identical or anything, and we're not actually, technically related in any way, but we're more the same inside than any other two people I know.
The holes, the size and shape of absence inside us, left by our parents, match.
He graduated and moved here, Missoula two years ago to start UM, just as I was starting my junior year at Forks High School. I missed him so much. Renee and Phil were good about visiting, but I just couldn't wait to be out and on my own too. Embry looked so happy every time I visited. He was so happy to be on his own two feet, for real.
Blowing the smoke down under the collar of my tee-shirt, I pull the Oust from the bottom drawer of my night stand, spraying citrus scent generously around my bed while my back pocket vibrates.
just picked the kegs up. c'mon by whenever, pinky tuscadero.
In front of the small mirror at my desk, I tie the light pink ends of my hair into two little knots behind my ears. The sun's just starting to go down but it's still warm outside so I leave my jacket behind. I head out to my bike in just my brown Mamas and Papas tee-shirt, jeans and moccasins. Sunglasses on. Aquemini beating deep my ear buds.
"Ah ha, hush that fuss. Everybody move to the back of the bus. Do you wanna bump and slump with us? We the type of people make the club get crunk..."
I'm excited to see Embry and to meet Angela.
To be on my own and okay, for it to be okay that I'm on my own, for the first time. I didn't have to run away or fight any harder than AP final exams were concerned to get here. I'm free to come and go completely as I please, and not have to answer to anyone, for the first time.
And I love it.
The bike ride is short; the late summer breeze is warm. The sun dips lower, making the light blue sky all poppy-peach and mandarin-marigold beyond the mountains.
Embry and two other guys (one in navy on white raglan, one in plaid, both in faded, hole-y-knee-d jeans and aviators) are carrying kegs from the back of a 1960-something Chevy pickup.
Embry lights up a bright smile and waves with both hands.
"Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii," I drag out, smiling back so hard I feel it in the tops of my cheeks. He jumps down into his driveway as I let my bike go in his yard, and he gives me the hug I've needed for months now.
"I missed you! I missed you! I missed you!" I laugh into his shoulder.
"Missed you too," he pulls back after a minute, smiling down at me. "How are you, Pinky? You got a taste of home for me?"
"Good. Good, yeah, I do..." Following him to the back of the truck, I slide my backpack off one arm and unzip it. His gift from Renee is safe and sound in front of two spiral notebooks.
"Jas, Erik, this is my little sister, Bella..."
More "Hi-hello,"s ensue as I pass Embry a rhombus-shaped Gladware full of Renee's peanut butter and jelly bars. He shhhhh-pops it open and bites one nearly in half right away, oh my God, thank you so much-ing me around a mouthful.
"You dork," I laugh, zipping my bag back up. "Where's Angela?"
"Earth Science lab." He glances at his watch. "She'll be here later."
I nod and pick my baby blue beach cruiserup from the grass, parking it against his front porch while he goes back to helping his friends with the huge, beer filled aluminum drums. It takes them a few minutes to get both down and into the house, but eventually they make it and we're in Embry's living room.
Love 2 on and up in the background.
Lights off, windows open, letting the orangesunset light, cicada sounds, and late summer breeze all in.
Red dixie cups full of cold beer, and across from me, Jas is pulling a sparkly little tree from his bag and pinkie-fingering it into a bowl.
While Erik pinkie-fingers his other hand, the one that's between them.
Jas touches his fingers to Erik's in turn, and it gives my heart and deeper parts a tickle. It's subtle but not secret, so awww that it's sexy at the same time.
Embry asks me about Renee and Phil, about my roommate and my classes coming up. I ask him about Angela, his classes. Conversation comes easy, flowing right around those quiet five and six second lulls between subjects. It's not awkward; there's not a chance for it to be. Whenever I think it might be, Jas teases Erik about not being able to stomach his beer with the rest of us.
"Even the freshman here is beating you," Jas laughs, glancing between me and his boy.
I shrug and smile.
It's true. I am.
"Hey fuck off, somebody's gotta drive your drunk ass home later, right?"
Jas grins crooked, bumping the side of Erik's leg with his - knee to bare knee in frayed white jeans. The skin on skin is beautiful.
"Always thinkin' of me," he teases.
"Fuck off," Erik says again, shoving him away with a smile and chugging down the contents of his cup in a few heavy swallows, Adam's apple bobbing.
It's easy peasy going breezy until I for some reason think it's possible to take a drink and stand up at the same time.
I don't know why.
I don't know what in the world has me thinking I'm coordinated enough to do two such dangerous things at once, but I do. And I dribble beer all down the front of my shirt.
"Awesome," I laugh, blowing air out through my closed lips, exasperated at my own clumsiness and embarrassed until I hear their chuckles echoing mine.
"Hey it's okay, here, c'mon I'll make is so you match," Embry takes his beer and leans over Erik, pushing his arms down like he's going to pour it on him.
It all happens so fast that I don't have any idea how no more beer gets spilled, but Jas grab's Embry's cup and stands up out of the way, letting Erik push forward and knock Embry back.
Heading to the bathroom, I can hear still hear them laughing as I close the door.
I pull the tee-shirt over my head, wet a washcloth and unsticky-yeast-smell my skin as best as I can. My shirt still stinks though and is too damp, and ridiculous to put back on.
Smooth. Real smooth.
I look in the mirror for a few seconds, dizzy-high, smiling to myself.
Okay, maybe not smooth, but classic?
Of course I spilled beer on myself. Why wouldn't I?
Retwisting the pink knots behind my ears, I breathe out, refusing to feel ridiculous. I'm with my best friend here, what the else matters, really?
Embry's room is between the living room and the bathroom, and I toss my shirt into his laundry basket, stepping out in just my camisole.
"Hey," I peek just my head around the door frame at him in the living room. He's sitting on the floor, loading another bowl.
It's so dank I can smell it from here.
"I'm stealing a clean shirt, just so you know."
"You're good, go ahead."
I turn to head to his closet, but there's a hoodie on his cluttered clusterfuck of a desk that I spy first. It's just a worn-in, black zip-up and looks like a safe bet, just in case I decide to try to do two things at once again. I slip my arms in the sleeves and pull the zipper up to my chest. The whole thing all but swallows me up.
I feel better in it though, invinciblekind of, and I head back out to the boys.
It's not too long before people start showing up.
There's a couple of girls first, Jessica and Emily, that come with a butter pecan ice cream cake and twenty birthday candles that look taller, skinnier, and way more like sparklers than any birthday candles I've ever seen.
More girls follow. A tall blonde in skinny jeans with legs that go for miles.
An even taller boy, all muscle, messy black hair under hat. A lankier boy, a smooth looking mess of dark auburn, with a sharp white smile and stray streaks of paint on his hands.
Girls and boys, boys and girls. Embry's house isn't particularly small, but it doesn't take long for it to fill up.
Angela is twice as nice as I imagined her. Embry had talked to me a lot about her, but you can't exactly tell someone how your eyes look when you're connecting with that someone in your life that gives you "butterflies 'n shit."
Nope, that's something you can only see firsthand, and that girl lights Embry up inside like the fourth of July. He's so happy, and it makes me happy too.
His friends are all easy to mix with. Jessica turns out to be some kind of international flippy cup champion, which is awesome because she and Emily had no way of knowing how completely anti-dexterous I am when they asked me to be on their team. They're great, and Jessica's crazy flippy-reflexes more than make up for my own simple inabilities.
Erik pours my beer bongs. Two of which, is plenty.
Between that and the fluffy little bowl of kush he just passed around, I feel light like clouds. And warm, like the air around me is warm, cozy like a blanket on a cool morning. It feels good and I reach behind me with both hands to pull the jacket's hood up. The cozy-feeling wraps me from temples to toes and I love it.
I move from the living room to the kitchen, to the back porch. There's a few smokers on the deck; the tall blonde is there talking to a viscously pretty red head. Another boy and girl are a few feet away.
Leaning against the deck, looking up, there are so many stars out. They black-grey sky is full for miles in every direction, with glowing flecks of bright white.
I don't smoke; I just came out for the air, and the late summer breeze feels so good on my cheeks and on my arms, coming through my sleeves.
I think I like it here.
I think my first night as free bird, is a good one.
Turning back around, facing the glass deck doors, I can see everyone inside. Talking, laughing, drinking, laughing, moving. Laughing.
Embry turns and notices me out of the corner of his eye, turning more and smiling.
I smile back, and the guy standing next to him, the lanky guy with dark red-brown bed-head and simple black tee-shirt on, he turns too.
I look at him and I hear Bob Marley.
I feel warmer.
And when he shoots that sharp smile he's had on all night, at me, I feel like a kid on Christmas morning.
Looking at a mountain of presents.
Reaching, for the very first one.
August 17th, 2009 - E
She's got pink hair.
Light pink, like salt water taffy.
She looks like exactly the girl Bob Marley had in mind when he wrote "Stir it up."
I want to talk to her. I bet she likes cool music.
I wonder what her tongue tastes like. I bet it's fucking soft.
"Little darling... Stir it up..."
She's Embry's little sister.
Is that bad?
Does that mean I shouldn't talk to her?
I want to talk to her.
I wonder if she likes juice or milk with her breakfast.
I wonder what kinds of sounds she makes.
She looks so good in my jacket.
I just want to talk to her.
That's okay, I can talk to her.
Maybe shake her hand...
October 22nd, 2009 - B
Edward smiles at me when he walks in.
It's one of those all the way across the room smiles, that sort of fasten you to another person regardless of the space between you.
I smile back, slipping my hands in my pockets, swaying inside to "Could You be Loved."
Cullen to most of his friends, that's what Embry calls him, but he introduced himself to me, as Edward...
I return my eyes to the huge black and white portrait in front of me. There are others like it hanging all around.
I'm here in this loft with some girls from my floor. It's our R.A, Didi's friend's showing.
When Didi invited us a few weeks ago, I wondered if Edward might be here.
He's an art history major, and they all kind of move in the same circles.
I secretly kind of hoped he would be.
I glance from face to face, sneaking looks in his direction.
He's all cleaned up. There's a little scruff on his face, but there's no paint on his hands or clothes. And he's wearing a black hoodie I recognize with my heart and whole melty-feeling body.
The crisp fall breeze rushes in every time someone comes in or goes out the doors. It's chilly in here and he's so warm looking.
I press my hands deeper into my pockets as I step sideways to look at the next portrait, but inside I'm remembering Angela's birthday party, when Edward finally came up and talked to me. I was way too shy to do it after he smiled at me through the doors, but that was okay because one game of flippy cup later, he saved the day.
I was in the kitchen, on my tiptoes, trying to reach the box of Oatmeal Cream Pies that Embry had - for some completely ungodly reason - placed on the stop shelf of one of his cabinets. Stretching my fingers, I reached as hard as I could, straining just to touch the corner of the box, just to scoot it even.
A longer arm came up next to mine, paint streaked fingers placing the box in my hand.
Bed-head boy was right behind me when I turned around. He was right next to me.
His name was Edward and he had streaks of blue and white on his knuckles when he shook my hand. His was so warm and strong around mine. He was tall; I had to look up at him. He made my tummy feel hungry.
The hoodie I had on, the one he's wearing now. It's his.
I fell asleep in it that night. Erik offered to drive me home, but Embry gave me his bed. He was going to stay with Angela anyway.
I washed the hoodie the next day, with my tee-shirt, and left it where I'd found it when I left.
I step sideways to view the last portrait, looking around, down at the girls from my floor. Then to my left, where Edward's shaking some professor-director looking type's hand, turning, and nodding at me.
"So what do you think?" He asks while he's walking up. He's got keys in his left hand and is scratching the back of his head with his right. "Is it pretentious?"
"Why? Just because it's black and white photography?"
He shrugs, smiling all aloof and relaxed, so easy on the eyes it makes me feel light on my feet.
"Hi," I smile, beginning again.
"Hi," he smiles back, and I want for a second to forget his name just so he has to introduce himself and shake my hand again.
But I don't.
Like I could.
"Cullen," another guy nods across the room, tilting his head toward the door. It's the bigger, black haired guy from Angela's birthday. Evan, maybe? Ethan?
We both glance at him, but Edward doesn't really move. He just gives him a nod and looks back to me, then back to the portrait.
"So how do you know Marcus?"
I raise my eyebrow, confused for a second before I remember.
"Oh, the guy," I point at the pictures. "The artist, he's my R.A.'s friend."
Edward nods. "You live in the dorms?"
I nod too, fingering the inside stitching of my pocket.
"Yeah, Delle Hall."
"Do you like it?"
"It's not bad, yeah, kind of I do. It's nice to be out -"
"Dude..." His friend calls from a few people away, impatient sounding.
"C'mon we gotta go get that before Tanya has to work. She's waiting on us."
Edward nods again, holding his finger up for him to wait just a minute.
"Sorry, about him," he half-smiles. He shakes his keys in his hand, thinking and quiet for a few seconds before he speaks again.
"We're going to this party later... We gotta pick something up first, then we're heading over. It's a little drive, half an hour..."
I think for a second he's going to ask me, but he just kind of trails off. I roll my chapstick between my fingers in my pocket. My whole mouth feels dry and I realize I'm nervous.
I really want him to ask me...
"Sounds like a good time," I nod. One of the girls from my hall taps my arm, motioning to where a few of them are getting drinks and sitting down at a table.
"Yeah. Would you want to go?"
For a second, I can't believe my ears. I'm sure it's all wishful thinking.
He holds his finger up at his friend who's trying to get his attention again as he leans down a little, so he can say something only I can hear when I still haven't answered.
"You wanna go?"
I feel his voice, inside my ear, all around me.
I nod as he leans back up.
"Yeah?" I ask. I don't know where we're going really, but he's a good guy. He's Embry's friend, and I trust Embry more than anyone.
"Yeah?" He asks in turn. "Yeah, cool. Alright well um, have you seen what you wanted...? Is it rude of you to leave your friends? My car's right outside..."
"No, they're fine. We've been here a while. This was the extent of our plans... Are you sure your friend won't mind?""
Edward glances from me to him, then back to me, smiling crooked.
"No, he's fine. He's just excited. He gets all antsy..."
Even as he's answering, he's turning and I'm following.
"C'mon," he says, laughing lightly. "He'll tell you all about it in the car, I'm sure."
Turns out, that Emmett just gets giddy about buying weed.
He talks about Tanya's buds like they're the most sacred, most special, most delicious things on Earth. When we're in her living room and she's plucking them one by one from a mason jar full of fluffy puffy little green trees, he looks at each one like he wants to eat it. Like he wants to gulp it down like a pine-y little petit-four.
But when I get a closer look at them, I feel totally resolved about his eagerness to get here. There's the most scrumptious looking little nuggets, all bright green, laced with sparkling periwinkle.
They let me ride shotgun when we get on the road and Edward passes me his iPod, letting me soundtrack our trip while Emmett sits in the back, his nose in the bag every few minutes, breathing deep.
Edward tells me about the people whose house we're going to. Says Jessica might be there, Jas and Erik maybe. Asks me about my major, my classes. I have the same Ethics professor he had two years ago.
I do some mental math, guessing him twenty one, twenty two maybe, at least twenty one...
At the party, there are a few of kids I recognize from classes and around campus. Jessica is there, with the blonde and her shorter friend that I recognize from the back porch at Angela's birthday, Rosalie and Alice. They're nice. Rosalie and Emmett are dating, which I feel only makes perfect sense when Alice starts talking about how Rose can roll the most perfect blunts in no time flat, all on just a dollar bill if she wants to.
"That was one time," Rose laughs. "We were in the car. Emmett didn't have a notebook or a cd, a textbook, anything for a tray. What was I supposed to do? Let us make the two hour drive clear headed?"
"I'm just saying," Alice laughs, shrugging her shoulders. "I bet you could do it again and people would be impressed."
They back and forth.
Edward's just a few people to my left, talking to another guy I recognize but whose name I can't remember. We separated to talk with different people, but he never goes far. He sort of keeps his eye on me, and even though it kind of makes me self-conscious at first, like very aware of myself and my movements, I sort of like it after a while.
In a room full of people I don't know, it makes me feel kind of safe.
When he goes to follow a few people upstairs, he invites me to come with him.
Rose and Alice are already there when we enter one of the rooms, Riley's; it's his house. Alice is behind Rose, fishtail braiding her hair while Rosalie breaks up nuggets on differential calculus textbook.
Edward drops his bag near her lap, glancing behind himself, at me, as he walks past her and sits down on the couch.
I sit down next to him, which I'm silly with butterflies to do in the moment, but then when Rose has the blunt rolled and we're smoking that shit, I want to kick myself.
I wish I was sitting across from him, so I can see him pull his hits.
I try to steal glances as casually as I can in my peripheral, but it's no use. We're side by side; it's too awkward an angle without just turning my whole head or body to face his.
Two thick puffs in though and I'm over it. I'm high before I even finish blowing all my smoke out; I feel that whoosy-soft-buzz feeling wrap around my conscious mind and I forget all about how I can't watch him.
It's cool, because I can feel him.
His leg's right next to my leg.
Thinking about the closeness - thinking about thinking about the closeness, makes me giggle under my breath as I pass the blunt to Mary Alice.
My mouth feels like cotton balls. I lick my lips and I taste grape from the wrap.
I glance at Edward's leg next to mine, faded and soft looking dark denim right next to tighter, darker denim. I want to touch him; I want to know if he feels as warm and cozy as his hoodie and jeans make him look.
"It's just so good," Emmett exhales across from me, holding the blunt in his big hands like it's a little treasure. His grin is wide and goofy, and his eyes are so glassy he looks for a second like he's going to weep love for the thing.
"It's just so, so good. I love it..."
Giggling at him, I don't give myself time to think or hesitate from my previous thoughts. As I reach into my pocket for my chapstick, I move my leg just a little. I slightly press it to Edward's, only for a second. Just the littlest hint of a nudge.
Mary Alice smiles at Emmett, nodding her head in agreement.
"It's true. Remember that pink stuff you had last summer Edward? That really awesome stuff?"
"That pretty stuff, that sparkly stuff, that it's kind-of-a-shame-to-smoke-it stuff..." Rose lilts, closing her eyes dreamily.
Not missing a single beat, Edward nods too, and presses his leg to mine in turn. Unbeknownst to anyone else, he connects himself back to me, just for a second.
"The Pez, yes I do. Of course I do." He grins, smiling and closing his eyes all dreamboaty and love struck teenager style, just like the rest of them did. His eyelashes are long against his cheeks and he's so drop dead pretty,
and he just secret-touched my leg back,
and I'm over the moon inside, and man,
I want to try some of that grass that makes them all look like they've just won a lifetime supply of pudding pops.
"Pink weed?" I ask, turning a little to look at him.
His eyelashes are still down as he puts the blunt to his soft looking lips. His cheeks hollow out twice in quick succession as he pulls, nodding his head to my question.
He sucks the thick little puff of smoke back into his mouth quick, then blows it back out slow. His lashes flutter a little, but don't lift as he brushes his left hand over his leg and passes me the cigar with his right.
"A friend of mine from back home, he grows this indo and it has..." His voice sounds calm, reverent and patient as he tries to explain it. It's sexy, and he lifts his eyelashes finally to glance up at me for just a second.
His smile is all up in his smoky dark eyes. He lets them linger for a beat, then looks back down and holds his hand out, his fingers curling a little like he's cradling something tiny and priceless.
"These pink, sort of... Sugary fibers and they were... And Emmett..." he laughs, making everyone else laugh.
"What?" Emmett asks innocently, his eyes barely open. I don't know what they're laughing about, but the look on Emmett's face is too funny. He's this hunk of muscle, all big and tough looking, and he's totally fucking faded.
"It was just really good. And every time we'd pull a nug out Emmett would like... Grumble, like he was hungry, like he was going to eat it," Edward continued, glancing between me and his friend.
"He very affectionately referred to them as his fruity pebbles all summer."
I cover my out loud laugh with my hands, but everyone else is laughing too.
Emmett just shrugs again, still smiling.
Later on, when we're driving back, he insists on having 45:33 up so loud we can feel the electric-bass beats in our stomachs.
Which is nice, one, because it's an amazing CD and two, because it saves any possibility of me bumbling something too awkward or silly for my own good to the bed-head boy at the wheel.
It doesn't take long once the beats drops deeper though, and Emmett's passed out in the back seat, sleeping like a big, lumberjack baby.
Edward turns the music down as we exit off the highway and he turns to head toward campus. Not all the way down or off, just dropping it to background noise.
"Delle Hall, right?"
"Yeah," I nod, pulling my hair back. "
Where did you stay, when you started here?"
"Putnam. That's actually how Embry and I met. We lived on the same floor."
"Oh, right on. Yeah, I remember him talking about his roommate that year, Mike, how crazy he was. Didn't he flood your guys' whole floor?"
"Yeah, Mike. Mike Newton, man..." Edward laughs, glancing in the rearview and over at me as he turns. "He was drunk at like, eleven am, middle of the day, and decided he was going to build a slip 'n slide with all this soap, with his mattress and all this water, right in the hallway..."
"Oh my God, what?" I laugh back, trying to picture the mess. "Why?"
Edward just shrugs, rolling his eyes with a smile.
"Why knows why. Why did Mike think he could chug a whole gallon of milk and not throw up? Why did he swim through Elbow Lake naked? Guy's just crazy..."
The few blocks to the dorms are comfortable, quiet save for the turned-down music and the steady taps of Edward's thumb against the wheel.
I like it, being here with him in his car.
When we turn into campus and I realize I'm going to have to get out of the car, my stomach does a cartwheel.
I want him to kiss me.
I glance back at Emmett as Edward pulls up to the dorm doors. He shifts into park and my stomach kicks nervous, eager, unsure flips.
It's quiet, I have to strain to hear even the music over how loud the quiet sounds all the sudden. Edward turns in his seat a little, resting his hands on his legs, continuing to tap his thumb there.
I want to kiss.
"Thank you, for letting me come tonight."
"I'm glad you did. It was a good time."
The quiet feels more awkward with each second.
I just want him to kiss me.
He turns a little more, glancing back at Emmett. I turn to face him. Our eyes hide and seek.
I want a kiss. Just one little kiss.
He looks like he wants to... Is he not going to because he's Embry's friend?
Maybe he doesn't want to. That's probably much more likely, that I'm imagining all this...
"So um, yeah... Thanks," I say with all the eloquence I can, reaching for my door handle.
"G'night," he says back, still lingering close but not moving any closer.
I could scream.
I want it so much but there's no way I can just do it, no way, and I know he wants to too, but he's just not doing it.
Maybe it really is because of Embry.
God, maybe my breath is really bad.
Clinging tightly as I can to my threads of hope and wanting, I turn my face closer to his and tap my cheek, hoping to give him permission if he wants it, and myself a chance at something less than total rejection if he doesn't.
My heart gives two shallow, fast beats before I feel his knuckle under my chin.
I keep my eyes low and try to breathe evenly, watching his nose and barely parted lips as he closes the small distance and kisses my cheek.
It's the softest press of lips and I know he can feel and see how hard it makes me smile, because I feel my smile dig right up into both my cheeks.
He smiles too; just a little, like he's proud of himself and trying to contain it, but I see it.
I just catch it under my eyelashes as he lets me chin go.
October 22nd, 20092010 - E
She smells so good.
She's on the couch right next to me and when she moves I can smell her hair, her shampoo maybe?
Like candy. She smells like Skittles.
She's got purple in her hair now too. Just a little bit, some streaks under her left ear. The rest of it's still all pink. And the colours make her neck look so soft.
She looks so soft all over.
Her voice is so sexy when she talks.
I want to know what she sounds like when she comes.
I shouldn't be doing this, right?
I shouldn't be partying with my friend's little sister.
I certainly probably shouldn't be thinking about making her come, but God, I fucking want to.
I wonder if she'd say my name, while she was coming, if I touched her just right.
I wonder if she'd let me kiss her...
What her kisses feel like when she wants it.
What her arms would feel like around my neck, holding on...
November 30th, 2010 - B
The next time I see Edward, I'm leaving the campus library.
I spot him walking, book bag on his back, black coat and grey scarf wrapped around him. It's just started snowing outside and it's not really sticking, but the flakes are really coming down.
Pulling my hood up and my mittens on, I step forward, our directions bringing us closer together. He smiles.
I hear Nesta Robert Marley in the breeze, singing about love, guiding the compass in my heart to a rocksteady beat.
"What's up, how's it going?" Edward asks, meeting his hand to mine, glove to mitten in a sideways high-five.
He's got snowflakes on his eyelashes and scruff on his chin and pink cheeks.
"Not much. Just printing out a paper for class. What are you up to?"
"Just got out of class... Where are you heading?"
The wind blows cold. I can feel it blistering my cheeks too. I snuggle my shoulders up a little, shrinking deeper into my coat.
"Nowhere. I mean, just back to the dorms for a bit. I have an evening class later. You?"
"I don't know... What time's your class later?"
He's let his scruff go a day or two, it's little darker than the last time I saw him. It looks almost soft to the touch.
"You wanna go get some coffee or something? Something warm?"
I smile, loving every part of that idea.
Something warm. And more time with him.
Just me and him...
He takes me to this place I've never been, Leopold's, and he holds the door open for me. He pays for us both and lets me sit down first, and we have some of, if not the, warmest, creamy-richest, most delicious hot chocolate in the whole world.
The longer we hang out, the more I can see why Embry's friends with Edward.
We talk about Embry and about our sort of family, and about Edward's too. He's not a foster kid, but in my heart I feel like we're kind of the same. He's never met his dad either; he bailed when he found out his mom was pregnant.
We talk about trust and how it's hard. About friends, and the importance of just being real, honest, true to yourself, because what's the point otherwise? What else is there? There's nothing in the world like truth, and all you can do is what you can do...
We talk about places we've been and how it feels to be on your own. About how everyone's on a search for something
"You think so? Like a conscious search?" Edward asks.
"Well I don't know if it's always conscious, but yeah. I think everyone's searching for things, y'know?"
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"What's your search for?"
"Oh," I think for a minute, sorting my feelings into words.
"Same thing as everybody else I guess. Meaning. A sunny day. Life. Truth... A safe place... And bottomless supply of Swedish Fish."
He laughs with me. I let my mind go.
"Yesterday and Today on vinyl. And as of most recently, pink pot."
It's easy to just be chill with him.
We talk about music, a lot about music. We talk about who influenced who and if changing your sound means selling out. We're both so eclectic and he knows so much that we could talk music for hours, but when Patsy Cline comes on in the background around us and he tells me he's got an original, 1957 "Walkin after Midnight" single in his apartment, I can be done talking.
I want to hear it.
And I want to see his place...
It's snowing harder outside.
Once we're up the two flights of stairs and his door is closed behind us, we both slip our boots off. I glance around as he walks ahead of me to a table in front of some windows, turning his laptop on.
It's so warm in here.
Edward's apartment is him all over the place. There's two floor to ceiling bookshelves along one wall and a fish tank instead of a television. There are paintings, different sizes small and tall, all stretched and stapled canvases streaked with all different colours, everywhere. A few are hanging, most stacked in front of one another, finished pieces and works in progress together.
His kitchen's kind of off to the side, separated from the living room with just a waist-high ledge, breakfast bar of sorts. Across from the table, further in the living room, there's a huge, olive-green rug, all soft and plush looking and circle-shaped. There's a box record player on an end table in the corner, and crates of records nearby. Other ones are set up along a ledges on either side of his windows.
Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme.
Originals, the kind you don't keep in crates.
He has so much music...
"C'mon in, come sit down, let me see if I can find it..." He smiles as he turns around, gesturing toward the record player. The furnace is in the nearby corner, easily warming the entire small space.
I sit down near him on the rug, stretching my legs out toward the furnace and leaning on my hand as he crouches down, fingering his way through one of the crates.
From where I'm sitting I can see another room kind of off to the side, with the door open.
I can see his unmade bed and I want to crawl to it and get in it.
I want to feel his sheets.
He's just like everything in his place, cozy and inviting
I rifle through my bag and pack a bowl while he looks for the record. He finds it finally and sits down close to, kind of across from me, stretching his black socked feet toward the furnace too. I try not to think about his lips when he puts the pipe to them; I try not to look, but I can't help it.
He changes up the records every now and then as we pass the bowl back and forth. I'm high before him I think; at least I feel like I am because I get sort of fidgety-feeling.
He must notice because he touches his toes to my blue and white striped ones...
We don't mention it.
We don't pull away, and we don't talk about. We just go on listening to Operation Aloha and talking about slow-beat, low-key, indie Brit alt-rock. Playing footsie, toes to toes, ankle to ankle sometimes, right in the open and not acknowledging it even a little bit.
The sky's all white outside his window, lighting up us and his living room. The snow is coming down harder now, a little faster. We're sitting on the rug, in his apartment, but I feel a little like floating.
We're talking about the guys in this band that's on, recording in Hawaii when he asks if I like Gomez.
I shrug because I don't know, yet.
"Never heard of them," I say, my voice thick sounding as I pull a hit down into my lungs.
"Yeah you have," he insists, setting the bowl down when I hand it to him, nudging his foot to mine before he pulls away to reach for a farther away crate, for another record.
I smile to myself, excited inside.
"It's the same guitarist and vocalist for this band. Gomez was their first project..."
He puts a new record on and the previous one away.
I watch his hands, noticing the slight smudges of black and grey paint on his left one. I watch his fingers as he sets the needle to work, and I want him to come sit back down because my feet feel kinda cold all the sudden and his...
He's just so warm...
Guitar vibrates long and melodic when the music starts. It sounds like a summer day in the hot, hot sun and I stretch my limbs, bringing my foot closer to his leg.
As he settles back in his spot on the rug again, he touches my ankle with his hand, still talking, like nothing's happening.
"Gomez is a little bluesier, like psychedelic blues meets crunchy garage rock..."
I nod, trying to pay attention, but I feel his hand, his fingers slipping under my jeans, touching my bare ankle above my sock, the bottom of my calf.
His fingers feel longer than they look. He's gentle, like he's curious, and but easy as he goes, his touch pulls me like a magnet. I roll my ankle closer, curving into his hand.
"This famous street scene photographer, Christopher Wray-McCann knew Ian and Olly, this vocalist and drummer. And he got them together with twelve of his other friends to live in tree houses for thirty days in Maui... That's what Operation Aloha was..."
He strokes my skin gently, but his face and voice don't waver. I want to respond, to say something halfway intelligent back, but I'm high like the clouds and he's taking my ability to put words together, away.
I roll my ankle and twist closer to his touch, wanting more. He goes on about these guys and this band, and he keeps touching me, sliding his hand higher up the leg of my jeans, dipping his fingertips under the top of my sock, touching the top of my foot.
After a while it sounds like he's reciting an encyclopedia entry. He knows what he's talking about, but he sounds like he's just talking because he's anxious, or really high, or both maybe.
I quiet a giggle behind my pressed together lips, twisting my ankle in his hand, loving his warm touch.
"They've got this collection of B-sides, Abandoned Shopping Trolley Hotline that came out in 2000... It was pretty good, didn't do too well in the US though... So, do you um..."
His cadence changes and he pauses, laughing at himself.
He sounds nervous, but he slides his hand out from under my jeans and up my leg, into the bend of my knee. The touch makes me feel hot all over and he gives my leg a little pull, bringing me closer.
The clock across the room from us strikes says it's a quarter after six and I know I have to get back for my evening class soon, but I've got a few more minutes and he's touching my leg...
I watch him patiently, hanging off every second, waiting for him to finish his question.
"Do you... wanna make out?"
It makes me grin like an idiot and I shake my head yes.
Yes, yes, yes!
We move closer and he touches my face, and licks his lips. It makes me lick my lips, and he keeps his parted just a little, and when he kisses me I get higher.
I feel myself get higher.
I can just faintly taste the hint of hot chocolate on his tongue. It's so soft in my mouth and I feel like I could kiss him for days and still not want to come up for air.
He groans a little and it's from his chest, and it makes me moan too, and he kisses me deeper when I do, touching my hair, the back of my neck, the sides of my throat and my jaws.
It's my first real kiss, because that thing junior year with Alec really didn't count. We didn't use our tongues, and Edward is definitely using his tongue.
He finishes every kiss he starts, opening my lips a little bit with his, then a little more, a little deeper. He takes my top lip and lets me kiss on his bottom one. He turns and tilts with me, learning my mouth, letting me learn his, and I've never been so happy a song went on and on for so many minutes.
He kisses me like he means it, whatever it is; it's from his heart and he's real about it.
And he smells so good - pot and morning snow, and boy soap, and fabric softener.
He can't keep his hands out of my hair. He loves it and I love that he loves it. His fingers feel so good on my scalp, and he's so strong everywhere I touch him. He's tall and lean to look at, but under my hands he's surprisingly hard muscle and smooth skin,
Scruffy cheeks and chin against my own cheeks and collar bones.
Warm cotton and wornsoft jeans, and I want to be this close to him all the time.
Want to spend every afternoon, right here, on his rug.
Want to wrap myself up in how he makes me feel and want to feel his lips, all the time...
November 30th, 2010 - E
She let me kiss her.
She let me kiss her.
She let me kiss her and I swear to God it got me even higher.
She's so soft and warm in my hands, and I can feel her, trusting me, and it makes my fucking heart swell up in my chest.
I asked her about her family.
She's a tough kid; she's been through a hell of a lot more than me, but she's all tender-heart inside.
When I found her eyes, I still heard Bob Marley, but was all "Little darling, don't shed no tears..."
"No woman, no cry..."
I want to find her parents and knock the shit out of them for abandoning her.
I want to lasso the moon, and the sun, and all the stars and light her world up bright.
I want feel my way under her clothes, under her skin and bones, all the way to her heart.
I've thought about this for a long time. It's all I've thought about since that night at the party, and even today, I hesitated for over an hour when we got back to my apartment, because I was thinking about it.
I don't want to disrespect Embry, but I'm not going to because I don't want to disrespect her.
Yeah, I want to be inside her.
God, I want to be all the way up inside her, so deep neither one of us can see or think straight...
But not until she's ready, not even a little bit until she's ready...
Baby boo trusts me, and it feels so good when she trusts me. I don't want to do anything that would fuck that up.
February 21st, 2010 - B
We're not anything official.
It's not anything we talk about or decide to do or not do. It's not set in stone, or writing, or even verbally anywhere, but it's pretty obvious to anyone paying attention that kind of:
I'm Edward's girl.
After that afternoon in his apartment, we started hanging out more. He put my number in his phone and his in mine, and we spent more Tuesday and Thursday afternoons on his rug with the music up. Smoking bowls. Playing kissy-face. Whispering silly things.
"I feel like I get higher when you kiss me."
"You do," he whispered, smiling and tugging the collar of my shirt aside to press his mouth all warm and soft to the bend of my neck.
"I know you do. I feel it."
He dragged his mouth back to mine for emphasis, showing me with his lips and tongue what he said with his words.
I love how he touches me when we're making out, how he kind of cradles and guides me head, my whole body with his hands.
He wants more, and he's curious about me.
He's strong, but he doesn't push, ever.
I want to give him more; I'm just nervous.
I just want to go slow, and he's okay with that. He takes and loves, intricately and meticulously, the way only a stoner artist boy could, every small bit of skin that I give him.
He takes his time and loves me soft.
Afternoons in his apartment, on his rug.
Monday nights, in my cramped little dorm room bed, while my roommate's at work.
I slip my hand under the edges of his shirts and touch his sides, his stomach, his back. I let him slide his hand under mine and touch my tummy, my sides and back too, my belly button and hipbones...
It makes me so dizzy-good feeling when he kisses my tummy, the tops of my hips. When he turns me with his hands so he can kiss my sides...
We hold hands when we walk together, and sometimes at parties, we link pinkies between us, but when we're alone, it's so much more.
We share weed, and wine, and sometimes, we order Thai food and eat from the same box.
It's small and probably silly to pay attention to, but I've never had anyone like Edward before.
Embry was my best friend because the hole in his gut matched mine.
Edward doesn't match as exactly as he did, but he makes it feel so much smaller.
Like maybe, just maybe, with the right amount of time and kisses, it won't always be there...
He's across from me now, painting while I doodle in the margins of my notebook. I'm supposed to be writing; brainstorming ideas for my research paper, but I can't stop watching his back, the way his shoulders stretch and flex, and move under his white v-neck.
He turned his laptop on and set iTunes to shuffle all. Missy and Timbaland are laying it down between us and I love watching the way he move with the music, no matter what music happens to be on.
I watch the stretch of his neck as he moves his brush across the canvas. I watch his hips when he takes steps closer to and farther away from his work.
"Me I'm supa-fly, supa-dupa-fly..."
We broke up enough nuggets to fill the huge, purple-glass bong and still had enough left over for each of us have our own little pinter joints. He cracked the window and turned the fan on a few minutes ago, but there's still smoke in the air between us.
I look at my own one of the two joints, then back up to him when I hear his lighter.
"Beep beep, who got the keys to the Jeep? Vroooooooooooom..."
I glance back down at the one tucked into the spiral part of my notebook, then at my still fairly blank page.
I look back up at Edward, with his back to me again, his arms and shoulders reaching and flexing as he moves the brush.
My concentration for anything else is fucked.
I want to make art with him.
He turns to me when I stand, setting my notebook down and making my way to stand next to him, to stare at the wet canvas.
"Want to help?" He asks like he knows, kissing my jaw, just in front of my ear.
"Really bad, yeah," I smile back. "Do you have something I can put on? I wouldn't care but this is Jessica's shirt..."
"Sure, go ahead." He holds the joint to my lips as he answers, touching his fingers just barely to my lips as I pull a hit in.
"You can grab something from my closet."
His door is open and his bed is unmade as usual.
We haven't ever stayed in his bed, just mine.
The blankets and pillows are all pushed and bunched up. I have to shut up the urge to crawl down into them, and wrap myself up in the covers that hold him every night.
I bet it smells so good...
I head to his closet, thinking about kisses, about how I'm going to kiss him when I get back out there, but there's a plaid shirt at the foot of his bed that stops me. I recognize it from the other day and it's already got paint on the sleeves, so I figure it's good choice.
Missy Elliot has shuffled to The Shins in the living room. I can hear soft bells and slow humming, easy-breezy guitar and I feel my feet step, my hips sway to the light downtempo.
Pulling Jessica's sweater over my head, I reach for Edward's plaid. I've just got it on; I'm pulling my hair up out from under the collar when I turn a little and catch Edward watching me.
He's leaning against his doorway, pulling little hits, all quiet, not hidden at all, just watching me.
I feel myself blush, standing there with his plaid shirt open, just my bra underneath, all pale pink and sheer see-through. I feel my nipples harden, peaking and peeking out for him. And I feel myself smile, smile, smile.
He smiles too, I hear him hum it when he exhales and steps toward me, where I'm still swaying a little to the music.
"And if you'd 'a took to me like a gull takes to the wind... Well, I'd 'a jumped from my tree, and I'd 'a danced..."
My heart picks up a beat with every step he takes, not saying a word, just watching me, nuzzling his nose softly against my temple, moving with me.
He sits down on the edge of his bed and holds the joint in his lips. Taking my hands in his, he guides me forward, closer, so that my legs are on both sides of his and I sit on his lap, straddling his hips. Keeping his eyes on mine, letting everything but his voice do his talking, he smiles as he takes the joint from his lips and arches up.
I bring my mouth to his and take his smoke down to my lungs, feeling goose bumps shiver up both my arms and down my back. I blow the smoke out to the side, meeting his lips again, deeper this time, softer for a kiss before leaning back up, looking down at him.
We're so close this way that I feel like we're in our own little bubble, like the rest of the world is outside and so far away, and nothing matters but him and me. Like there's just him and me.
We pass the pinter back and forth, but it doesn't leave my hand. I take my hits and I hold it to his lips for him to take his, because his hands have slipped inside his shirt, the one I'm wearing. He touches my stomach and my sides, higher up, skin that no one else has ever touched before and it's too pretty not to watch.
He sweeps his thumbs higher, brushing them across the outline of my bra, just under my breasts, pressing his lips to my fingers almost in a kiss he takes a hit, his eyelashes low, his eyes watching his fingers.
I arch into his touch, pinching what's left of the joint between my thumb and pointer fingertip and sucking carefully. He traces the small triangle-shapes of see -through fabric, not circling in, just following the outline of my bra. My nipples feel even harder, like they're tender, sore almost to be touched.
I pull another hit, but it's so small, and I'm so high I can feel it in my bones.
Not sure what to do with the still burning roach, I offer it to him.
He nods past me.
There's a bookshelf with an ashtray on it about two feet behind me, and he seems to think I can just place it there from where I am.
But that's a long ways to bend backwards, and I really don't want to move.
I stretch my arm out, testing the distance with my less than completely clear-headed sense of things.
Edward hums a playful smile, sliding his hand up my side, brushing his thumb back and forth so soft over the side curve of my breast.
"Reach, baby," he tells me in a whisper, glancing his eyes up to mine, his blue-green all smoky dark and light-hearted mischief.
I stretch my arm farther, reaching behind me with my whole upper half, watching his smile grow as my stomach and chest stretch out in front of him. He traces the outline of my bra again, softer this time, sliding just the tips of his fingers under the satiny band around my ribs.
"Reach," he whispers again, an airy chuckle in his voice as I stretch as far as I can, holding onto him with my right hand and reaching with my left, bending my body back for him to see, for him to touch.
It's no use though; I can't reach the bookshelf.
I shift my weight on his lap as I sit up straight again, giving up. I've no idea what to do with the roach.
He laughs softly, still watching his hands and my breasts. The sound is almost all breath and it thrills me, and he's so close I can feel it, his breath on my skin when he speaks again.
"Just drop it," he says. "It's not hot enough to burn the floor. It'll go out on it's own. It's fine. I don't want you to move..."
He draws circles around my nipples with his thumbs while I do as he says. I feel my backbone curl in slow motion so that I'm pushing my chest more toward him, arching into his hands. I can't take my eyes off his white paint streaked fingers, around my nipples.
He's touching me.
He's touching me and it feels so good...
I've never, ever, felt this good...
I've never felt so soft in my whole life as I do when he's touching me...
I press my lips together, stifling a pained-sounding moan as he touches my nipples through the sheer material. It's so good it almost hurts and I can't believe it, can't believe what I'm feeling all over my body. Can't believe how good it feels when he does it again, brushings his thumbs back and forth, in tight little circles around both of my nipples.
I've never felt this way...
Can this happen? Can I really...?
Just this way?
Just like this?
Oh my God...
I know when he wraps his left arm around my waist, and bends the thumb and fingers of his other hand together, to pop the clasp between my breasts open, that it can happen this way.
That it's going to happen this way...
He slides the sides of my bra apart, palming one as he presses his other hand into my back, holding me to him as he presses forward and kisses the other, taking my tender nipple between his lips.
I can't bite back the sound I make this time. It's too much to hold in when I feel his tongue.
He groans, soft and deep against my skin, and it's sort of sweet and primal sounding at the same time, yearning and hungry. I arch higher in his hands, rocking against his lap, curling my fingers into his shirt.
I hold onto him because I trust him, with my whole body. My body trusts him...
I hold onto him because I have to, because I've never felt anything like this before and I'm afraid if I let go it'll all be over...
He trades his hands and his lips, switching to my other breast.
My right tingles and feels so good between his tongue and top teeth. My left feels even better, even more sensitive than before, because of his kisses. Even the just the soft touches from the pad of his thumb are overwhelming.
He covers my breast with his palm, squeezing gently, wrapping his arm a little tighter around my waist. I shiver in his grip and I feel warm all over, and twisted up all tight like I'm going to shatter apart if he keeps touching me.
I hold tighter to his shoulders, rocking against his lap where I can feel him all hard for me.
He's everywhere then, kissing my chest, my neck, under my ear, whispering against my skin, telling me I'm so pretty, that I'm the most beautiful girl...
"Do you have any idea how long I've wanted you? How much I think about you being right here..."
He squeezes his arm around me for emphasis, leaning back a little, pulling us both more onto his bed. He's so strong and I can't do anything but pant, and whimper, and nod my head yes.
Because I do know.
I might not know exactly how long or how much, but I know how long and how much I have, and it feels the same...
He holds me tight and I can't do anything but pant, and whimper, and nod my head yes.
"Listen to you, baby, you sound so beautiful. You sound so sexy right now... Breathe, baby, breathe... I've got you..."
His voice just makes me shake harder and I cling tighter to him, grinding against where I feel him, needing...
"There you go," he kisses down my neck, sliding his hands to each of my hips, taking over my movements and rocking me against him in a way that makes us both moan louder.
"There you go, baby. Just like that..." He whispers, kissing under my ear.
"Can you come for me this way? Just like this..."
It's all so much. I want to, but I don't know if I can. I've never -
He thrusts his hips up a little and I grind against him shamelessly, needing him just the same way, right there and I drop my head to his shoulder and hold on with everything I've got because I'm coming apart.
It's so good,
he touches me so good,
holds me so tight that I come apart, shaking all over and panting his name with no sound at all but my breathing.
Everything's light for a few seconds.
I'm higher than I even knew was possible.
Edward's kisses are everywhere, light and soft all over my bare skin. He's praising me quietly, thanking me. I feel my cheeks blush and I hold him tighter, letting go of his shoulders to wrap my arms around his neck and hug him close.
Both of his arms are around me too, rubbing my back, stroking my hair back from my face. He nudges my lips with his nose, bringing his smile to mine in a chaste kiss.
"Do you still want to go make art?" He asks in a whisper, stroking my earlobe with his thumb.
I need a few more seconds to gather my composure and un-jelly my legs, but I nod my head yes because that sounds so perfect right now.
"Of course I do," I smile, feeling safe and found when I meet his eyes.
February 21st, 2010 - E
She did say my name.
Over and over, and over again when she came, and I didn't even really touch her. I barely touched her at all and it was the most erotic thing I've ever seen, ever done.
When she took my smoke into her mouth I thought I was going to lose all control all together, but she held onto me.
She found my eyes and she trusted me.
And she looked so good in my shirt.
I just held onto her real tight and let her feel how much I wanted her. Told her she was beautiful, so fucking beautiful...
I want to kiss every inch of her.
I want to know every single part of her with my tongue and my teeth, and my lips.
I love her with my kisses and I want to love her deeper, with my heart. With my cock too, but deeper than that. I want to be her man.
I want her to let me into those places in her heart where she doesn't let anyone.
I wanna live in those places that she does let me in, all warm and soft and more precious than anything, just like her.
May 9th, 2010 - B
I've been without pot for four days and without Edward for five.
Edward's just out of town. He had to go back home for his sister's graduation and other family stuff. He invited me, but I couldn't miss that many classes.
He'll be back tomorrow, but who knows when Tanya or anyone else will have grass again. When connections dry up, you never really know how long it's going to be, or what the deal is. You're just stuck waiting and it sucks.
I tried to go out and just drink, but it didn't really help. The more I drank, the more I just wished I could trade any number of drinks or amount of money for a bowl.
I scraped resin from my pipe. It got me stoned, but the taste was way less than wonderful and it wasn't what I really wanted at all.
The days take forever and the nights are even longer. Edward talks me to sleep each night, but I wake up still tired every morning.
I glance from the book I'm reading to the clock on my phone. It's just a little after ten. I get to call him soon, when I'm done with my homework.
What I wouldn't give for just a teeny little nugget.
Just half a little bud...
Poor Emmett, I smile to myself. If I'm miserable after four days, I can't even imagine what he's going through.
I go back to my reading, trying to focus and get through the chapter.
It's just a few minutes later, not even five, that my phone vibrates on my desk. It's Edward.
"Hey, what's up? I thought you wanted me to call you when I was finished reading?"
"I did want that, this morning when we made those plans."
I can hear his smile and it makes my heart beat faster.
"But... I'm about five minutes from your dorm right now. Grab a blanket and bring your bowl. I've got something awesome to show you."
My heart sinks a little. It's still beating fast, but there's a dip of disappointment when I have to tell him I still don't have any grass.
"Everything's still dry around here. I don't have anything to put in my bowl..."
"Just bring it," he insists, making my heart raise back up, even higher than where it was before.
"And then head downstairs, I should be outside when you get down there. And don't tell anybody yet, if anyone asks..."
"What do you mean?"
"I want to spend tonight with just you..."
In a rush of excitement, I hang up with him and shimmy fast around my room. Changing out of my pajamas and into jeans and a tee-shirt. Pocketing my scraped-clean bowl and tucking the quilt from the foot of my bed under my arm. I slide into flip-flops and and turn the light out as I leave, locking my door behind me.
Sure enough, Edward's parked right out front. He's getting out of the car as soon as he sees me coming and he picks me up when I drop the blanket and wrap my arms around him.
We hug tight and kiss, and kiss, and kiss until I can't stop giggling.
I'm so happy to see him, so happy he's here.
"So what are you doing back? I thought you were staying through tomorrow?"
"I was," he smiles, taking my hand in one of his and opening my passenger door with his other. He picks up the blanket and drops it on the floorboard near my feet.
"But this is better."
He closes my door then and gets in next to me.
I don't ask where we're going. I don't really care. It doesn't matter.
I've got him and a blanket, what else could I possibly need, really?
He drives and we talk about his time with his sister and his mom. About these new paints that he picked up and a new record store that opened there a few months ago.
"Yeah? Is it cool?"
"It is. A lot of newer-ish stuff. The Ravonettes, Best Coast, but they had some great older stuff too."
He's talking all easy, like nothing, anywhere, is a big deal. Laid back, glancing between the rearview and the road, pulling into the park.
"Would you... grab my jacket, from the back seat?"
I reach back for his hoodie and pass it up to him. Keeping his left hand on the wheel, he finds his other into the hoodie's pocket. We turn and twist deeper to the heart of the park. There's a crickling sound under his hands...
He lets our eyes meet for a glance, smiling across the small distance. The kind that fastens me to him even though there's space between us.
"I brought something back for you."
I can maybe, actually feel myself beaming; he makes me smile that hard.
"I did," he nods and pulls up to park alongside three skinny tall pine trees.
"Okay," he shuts the car off and turns to face me. "Do you want the big one first or the smaller one first?"
"What?" I laugh.
"Your gifts, perv. Do you want the bigger one first, or the smaller?"
I smile so wide I feel it in my ears. I close my eyes.
A pack of Swedish fish come first.
Then an original, 1966 pressing of Yesterday and Today - the butcher cover.
I'm flying so high, stumbling all over my exclamations and thanks.
"I can't even... This is amazing. This is like... Oh my God, I can't believe I have this, in my hands right now. Thank you, thank you so much..."
"There's something else," he laughs, patting my arms that I've got wrapped around him in joy.
I lean back, turning the record over carefully in my hands, listening to Edward.
"That was on your list..."
He pulls his book bag up from the back seat floorboards and I know what it is before he says it.
It's so strong I can smell it through his fucking book bag when he moves it.
"No way," I smile, turning in my seat to watch him unzip the big pocket, and then a smaller inside pocket.
"I know one bag is far from a bottomless supply of Swedish Fish, but I do have some of Emmett's personal favorite, some pink indica, some of The Pez, some fruity pebbles if you will, here for you..."
Flipping the dome light on, he holds the small glass jar between us, uncorking the top of it.
It smells like grapefruit and watermelon, and it's so dank, so skunk it tickles the inside of my nose.
And sure enough, the little neon green nugs all laced with sugary pink hairs. They look all puffy and soft, and I'm pretty sure I know what Emmett was talking about now even though I wasn't there.
I want to eat them!
"C'mon, come sit outside with me," Edward smiles, recorking the jar and handing it to me. He grabs the blanket from my floorboard and I follow him out of the car, to where he spreads it out on between the trees.
We share a bowl on the blanket. He gives me his hoodie when the breeze blows cold. He holds me to him and kisses the back of my neck, and takes turns picking out funny star shapes with me.
He interlaces his fingers with mine and touches the top of my chest, the bottom of my throat, palming my heartbeat.
"I wanted to get you everything on your list," he whispers, kissing my hair.
"Yeah... But I also figured, it's your list... I probably shouldn't do all that searching for you," he brushes his smile against my neck.
"But I do want to be part of that, life, and truth, and meaning stuff, with you. I want to give you a safe place..."
My stomach and chest feel full up, and it feels right.
"So I talked to Embry, about you..."
My heart beats against his hand. I feel my smile in my cheeks.
"What do you mean?"
"I just told him, y'know... Kind of... How I feel about you. How much you mean to me..."
I can't help but smile harder. I turn over in his arms, wanting his eyes, wanting to feel his lips on mine when he answers me.
"How much do I mean to you?"
May 9th, 2010 - E
She let me love her under the stars, on a quilt in the grass.
Over her clothes.
She didn't take a single stitch off and neither did I.
I touched her and she touched me, and she came so hard, so pretty, but it was deeper than sex.
The sex came later, over and over again, back in my bed, but there in the grass, in nighttime summertime secrettime, she opened up those closed up little parts of her heart for me.
Every "I love you," I pressed against her skin - her neck, her cheeks, the side of her mouth, she whispered right back to me. Over and over, until she was shaking so soft and cooing out her pleasure all needy and trusting, desperate in her trust.
She let me in.
She let me seek and find her, and trusted me to keep her wrapped up in the safest place I could offer.
The only place I ever wanted her.
In my arms, where my heart can feel hers.