A/N: Holy shitsnacks, the response to this silly little story has been overwhelming. i can't even explain how much it means to me to have your kind encouragement. All the thoughtful reviews have been such a confidence booster that i actually started another o/s; it's very different from this one. It will (maybe) get posted later this month.
So it looks like *my* stupid button is stuck now; an errant click may have sent out alerts for a chapter which wasn't there. Public Service Announcement: Never leave a toddler around an unattended laptop. Sorry about that!
There may be more ... it won't be epic, surely, but i'll see what my remaining brain cells can scrape together.
Big, big thanks to HollettLA for being my very first, very kind, very sharp-eyed beta on this one.
Thank you, oh my god, so fucking much, for reading and reviewing. i tried to reply to every single one - if i left anyone out, i'm so sorry and it was totally accidental.
Disclaimer: Truly, i do not own Twilight, nor do i profit from messing around with its characters. Unless by "profit", you actually mean "get off". Then we'd all be in trouble.
I moved to step forward off the gondola and onto the platform. His hand, locked in mine, tugged me backwards. A little dizzy and suffering from post-cum-jellylegs, I half-tripped, half-twirled against his chest. God, that bonfire smell was even stronger now that the winds aloft weren't stealing it. I wanted to get back on the ride and go again.
The ride in question being his penis. Rock hard, or best offer.
Knowing that I was about to face an interrogation from Rose and Alice that would likely have made the drill sergeant from Full Metal Jacket cry was also feeding my desire to just escape from the questioning eyes. So I could understand his hesitation to step out and suddenly have to explain the God-knows-how-many minutes of tween-style outercourse they just witnessed to his cousin. He wrapped his other arm around my back, resting his chin on my hair as if we were slow dancing, and for a moment, there were no emotional attack dogs behind me, no strangers wondering who-is-this-whore-and-how-much-to-be-next. There was only me, and him, and the fact that he was holding me intentionally, lighting lanterns in my soul.
"I don't feel like explaining this to them either, Edward, but we can't stand here all night." I stepped back, looking to his expression for a clue.
"It's not ... I just ..." He shut his eyes tight, taking in a deep breath and pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked like he was trying to say something difficult.
He wants to break up. He thinks you're a pushy, oversexed Slutmaster 3000 and he is trying to blow you off so you don't follow him to his car like a bloodhound for dick. I sighed inwardly. I was still knee-deep in his magic; it was unfair to expect more.
I'd better save him the effort.
"Hey," I started softly, "It's OK if you want this to just be what it was."
Hie eyes went wide. "No! That's ... that's not where I was going." He shook his head, blinking.
Yes! Thank God, because I would sell my organs for another ten minutes in his lap, this time with no pants.
"So ..." I prompted him to finish.
He leaned in close, eyes staring out nervously over my shoulder at the still-gaping spectators as he whispered, "I have a ... situation. Resulting from our ... ah, shit, Bella, are you really going to make me say it?" He exhaled in a nervous chuckle.
Say what? The fuck is he talking about? I was 95% sure I'd felt his situation happily resolved right after - OHHH. Right. He fucking came in his pants for me. Jesus, that sounds hot. I felt my clit twitch once in agreement.
Shut up, dummy, I'll flick you later. Unless I can outsource the job.
Now that his hesitation made more sense, I breathed a relieved sigh, dissipating the achy tightness in my chest that I hadn't noticed until it was fading.
"You drove here alone?" I asked, my voice low.
"No," he replied, "Emmett drove the van."
"Good," I said, "Jasper can drive Rose and Allie."
I looked up at his face, his pinkening skin giving away a hint of a blush. A mischievous smile crept over my face.
"Here's the plan," I whispered. "On three, drop my hand, and we run for the main exit." His sea green eyes sparkled for a second, and he squeezed my hand.
"Two," his voice was low as he bent his knees, ready to run.
"Three!" It was a whispered starter's gun, and our feet pound out a loud, hideous clanging against the perforated metal platform.
Metal. My keys! Fuck! I always forget something!
Turning around, I grabbed the platform railing to keep from skidding sideways and climbed back into the gondola to retrieve my bag, slinging it across my back. Emmett was only steps away as I came out again, the knowing grin on his face charming in its shamelessness. I got the feeling he would give me a fist bump if I wasn't moving so fast, but now my forgetfulness had stolen precious seconds, and even though Edward had turned to find me and slowed to a hopping backwards walk that allowed me to catch up, something competitive has ignited in me and now: I. Have. To. Win.
The shouts of "Hey!" coming from Rose's direction faded in my ears as the dirty toes of my All-Stars sent the gravel into the air. The night air rushed over my skin like cool water, reaching into my lungs and tugging them open as I flew past Edward and beat him to the turn where the gravel met the paved road. Air rushing past my ears drowned everything else out, everything except the sound of Edward's laugh only steps behind me, and then -
Lights blurred into lines streaking past us, and the few people left on the now-closed fairgrounds turned to stare at the two crazy idiots sprinting toward the gate like their asses were on fire. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward quickly catch up to me on my right and then overtake me, and I was treated to the loveliest view of his ass as he ran, his cheeks taking turns filling his jeans out perfectly. It was lucky for me that I was already panting hard from racing him; gaping and mouth-breathing like this would not have looked as ideally feminine and mysterious had we been standing still.
Quickly, the tall gate loomed before us, and we both slowed our pace to meet it. He reached it first, and upon pushing, found it locked with a thick chain and padlock. Now it made sense that everyone we'd passed had been walking in the opposite direction - they must be letting the last stragglers leave via the smaller back gate, near the Ferris wheel Edward and I had just sullied. He was breathing too fast to talk, but the look he gave me read resigned exasperation.
He thought we were going to have to go back the other way and face Rose, Alice and Emmett.
Pretty fucker better think again.
I gripped the chain-link fence tightly and dug my shoe in for traction, climbing upward with deliberate movements. There was no fucking way I was going back to the midway with my friends and their slutty "bad cop" inquisition. Sure, I'd have to face them eventually - actually, it would probably be fun reliving the moment I stopped overthinking and exploded like a dirty, whorish rocket in midair, but not now, and not here. And definitely not after hauling ass away from them at about a million miles an hour.
Edward's boots weren't finding easy toeholds in the fence, and he was climbing slowly, slipping occasionally but holding fast with his smooth, tightly muscled arms.
I reached the top of the fence first, threw one leg over and paused for a second, balanced easily, watching his fingers wind into the twisted metal. His hair, catching the brash yellow streetlight, looked like a mosaic of light and dark and red strands, woven into a tapestry of perfection by ... wow, who? His mom's pussy, I guess.
Go, Mrs. Edward's Mom's babymaker.
She's got to have the world's most awesome cooter to produce such incredibly good looking offspring. Perhaps it was lined in gold and rose petals, and gave off a subtle jasmine and sandalwood smell. Maybe when she got her period, money fell out. I wondered if she ate a lot of funnel cake and rainbows while she was pregnant.
He brought his face up, looking for the top of the fence, and caught me staring. The cockiest, "I-got-you-now" smirk lit his eyes for a moment. Then, the world went strangely askew ... the grin on his face slipped into a concerned look, knitted eyebrows and downturned mouth. And then his gorgeous face was gone, and there were stars. No air, only stars.
Nice dismount there, stupid.
It took me a while to realize I'd fallen from the gate. I should have remembered: I was still Bella Swan; climbing anything taller than a grain of rice still came with a 90% chance of landing on my ass, even if I did hump a stranger 50,000 feet off the ground.
Or 40 feet, whatever. Christ, I'm not a mathematician.
"Shit, shit, shit!" Edward had brought himself over the top of the fence and climbed down a few feet before hopping off to crouch at my side. "Are you okay? Did you hit your head?" He tenderly took my hand in his. "Can you feel me squeezing your hand?"
His concern was thoroughly adorable. It almost soaked up all the embarrassment of busting my ass in front of the hottest boy I'd ever rubbed myself off on. I giggled at his careful approach. This poor boy would be calling ambulances twice a day if we ended up dating.
Dating. Fuck. Maybe he wants to date me.
The thought brought with it an abrupt end to the giggles and a swift rush of blood to my face. Just a few hours ago, this boy was no one to me. Then I kissed him, made him hard and rode him like a rented mule. And now I had the distinct possibility of more of him. Maybe a lot more.
"No, no no!" He started to protest as I sat up, dusting gravel and dirt off my jeans. "Bella, wait; that was a serious fall; you should be sitting down. Aren't you dizzy?"
Look how cute he is, trying to take care of me. Let's go home and play doctor so he can give me a sore vagina and then kiss it all better.
Inhaling deeply, I put a hand on his shoulder in a slightly patronizing gesture. "Edward," I sighed, "You just met me, so there's no way you could have known, but this?" I gestured down to my dirty jeans, "This happens all the time," I patted my ass, brushing off the dirt and trying to move on before my clumsiness became a topic of conversation.
Ow. My ass was definitely going to bruise from that fall, despite all the funnel-cake padding I put on it today. I was trying to downplay the little waddling limp my fall had earned me; thankfully, it appeared that Edward hadn't noticed, and actually, he was walking a little strangely himself, slightly hunched over. I could only imagine the spunk in his shorts was starting to dry, becoming sticky, congealed and uncomfortable right about now.
Wow. I think I just might have found something that turns me off about this guy: the state of his drawers right now . Sperm is unpleasant tasting stuff even at its very freshest, most glorious form. Half-dried, flaky spunk, maybe-even-mixed-with-a-little-sweatiness-from-running was absolutely not on my favorite flavors list. I appreciate boy-gravy for what it is, really … I'm just not in any rush to get a mouthful of it. That shit just tastes like Wrong.
He can put it anywhere but my mouth.
Oh! Except in some other chick. That would be absolutely un-fucking-acceptable.
I gestured to my car as we reached the parking lot. It was one of the only cars left, but the station-wagony 1988 Volvo 240 would have stood out anywhere. She had started out silver, but now rust was creeping up her undercarriage, and one of the doors and a quarter-panel were primer-white. She was all I could afford for the time being, and despite the inherent unpredictability of owning a car nearly as old as myself, I'd grown fond of her, even naming her "Hope" ... as in, "Hope that shitwagon starts again today," and "Hope that sound wasn't the goddamn muffler again!" As I walked over to unlock the passenger door for Edward, a chirp from my pocket alerted me to a text message.
It was from Rose.
The screen was just 120 characters of the word CUNT repeated in all caps, with "call me later" in lowercase at the bottom.
I think that means she forgave me.
"Everything okay?" Edward asked.
"It will be," I replied, letting him in and crossing in front of the car to let myself in. The key was almost in the lock when I saw his hand on the inside of the driver's side door, popping the lock open.
He had opened the door for me.
I had to lean against the car momentarily while I had a Bronx Tale moment.
Remote powered door locks are now so commonplace that most of us have forgotten how to manually unlock a door at all. Not only had he remembered, but he had spontaneously performed this simple gesture for me, just to make my night a fraction easier.
Maybe I was starting to rethink my sperm consumption prohibition. Because if there was one man on the face of the planet who deserved to finish in my mouth, he was sitting in my car right now, fingering the pink iPod I'd left on the passenger seat.
I got into the driver's seat, tossed my bag into the back, and watched his face as he scrolled through my music library.
"Recently Played ..." his voice was a challenge as he tapped the play button and waited.
"Shit," my fingers flew to the tape deck, pushing the converter cassette in all the way in and down, then pulling the iPod's output jack out and licking it before sticking it back in. "Sometimes you have to ... um, lick it to get it going."
Fuck, I can't believe I just said that with a straight face.
The anthemic guitar of The Hold Steady's "Hurricane J" came roaring from my speakers so loud that we both jumped in our seats and laughed before he scrolled the volume back.
"Do you always listen to music this loud?"
I shrugged. "When I have a rough day at work."
He turned back to the iPod and browsed as he talked. "So what's a rough day at work for you?"
"Well," I took a deep breath, "I work at a day care. So a shitty day usually involves literally getting shit on. Having a toddler puke into my purse. Getting bit in the ass by a two-year-old. That kind of stuff."
He was still fiddling around on my iPod, showing no sign of having heard me.
"Unlike your hard days at work," I continued, "Surrounded by funnel cake and cotton candy, sunshine, the sound of children laughing ... climbing up Ferris wheels and humping strangers ... that shit must be brutal."
He chuckled without looking up. At least now I knew he was listening, and he was fluent in sarcasm.
"The Decemberists ... Iron & Wine ... Liz Phair ..." he read off, smiling as he scrolled.
It made me a little antsy having my musical tastes scrutinized by this unbelievably hot guy with sticky underwear. "Finding something you like?" I asked.
"Yeah," was his quick reply. Out of the corner of my vision, I saw his eyes were on me when he spoke. "I think I have."
I swallowed hard and kept my eyes trained straight ahead, hiding my reddening face in the dark.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but the way this boy flirts may result in lethal dehydration.
"So," I asked as I started the car with a stuttering rumble, "where to?"
He was still messing with the music player. The intensity with which he stared into it almost made me jealous.
"Sorry," his head snapped up quickly. "You were saying?"
"Where can I drop you?" I repeated.
It crossed my mind to invite him back to my house for a shower and a cup of the most perfect coffee ever poured by human hands, but it occurred to me that I didn't have anything appropriate for him to change into. And the thought of him busting the seams of my pink kitty-cat print panties was about as sexy as getting diarrhea in a K-Mart.
"Make a left out of the lot and then a right at the first light, we'll be on that road for a while."
Still feeling the heat in my cheeks, I rolled down the window for the kiss of cool night air.
Yeah, I rolled them down. Shut up, it's good exercise for the arms.
I drove quietly while he continued scrolling through my digital music. I felt strangely naked, struggling to remember if I had any playlists named "Music to Get Boned To" or "Masturbation Classics". Eventually though, his head flipped up with a fierce grin, and he placed the iPod under the Volvo's wonky cassette player. We listened to another song or two before he pointed out where he wanted me to turn off.
As we turned onto the dark, wooded road, my phone rang. Retrieving it from my pocket, I found from the outside display that it was Alice. As much as I wanted details about what was going on between her and Jasper, this was by far not the ideal time for an estrogen-soaked who-humped-what catch up session. I hit a button to send her call to voicemail and tossed the antiquated flip phone into the change tray.
"You don't have a smartphone?" Edward asked.
"Me? Uh, no," I started nervously, "Can't really afford it at the moment. Do you have any idea what shitty tippers three-year-olds are?"
I gestured around the interior of my old smokebucket Volvo. "Don't let my sweet ride fool you," I teased, "I'm not what you'd call a woman of means."
He seemed to take my comment as an invitation to search the vehicle. He opened up the glove compartment and peeked timidly inside before reaching in and grabbing a pink plastic bottle. "Bubbles?" he asked with a grin.
"Sometimes I use this stuff for work."
He kept pawing around and came up with a stick of deodorant, peering at it curiously.
I smacked it out of his hand. "I'm not a morning person, okay? Sometimes I forget stuff. And quit messing with my shit if you're going to judge it all, okay? You're going to hit Tamponville in a minute anyway." I leaned over his body and shut the glove compartment to punctuate my request.
His reply was soft and earnest.
"I'm not judging you, Bella; I'm learning you."
I had no idea what to say to that. I was feeling oddly exposed, now that he had rifled through my car and my music library, yet I still knew precious little about him. I knew I should ask him about himself, but I couldn't seem to think of a question that seemed remotely appropriate.
What do you do when you're not busy starring in all my perverted fantasies?
So how long have you been making girls explode with their clothes on?
Do you come here often? And by "here," I mean in your pants.
The narrow road turned to gravel beneath my wheels, and in the darkness, I saw sparkles of light from the passenger side. Edward grinned at me as he filled the car with bubbles, floating and glinting with moonlight.
He's like this adorable, mischievous little kid.
I suddenly thought of a really, really important question. And it shot out from my lips tinged with the panic that had suddenly gripped me with slick, icy fingers.
"How old are you?" I blurted, my too-loud voice betraying my terror.
"Seventeen," he answered quickly. "Well, almost."
It took me a few seconds to register the sound of his laughter, and another few to begin to comprehend it.
"Oh, Bella," he laughed, "I'm sorry, but the look on your face …"
I slammed on the brakes, gravel crunching beneath the tires.
"Not funny, asspony!" I chastised while smiling fiercely, smacking his leg playfully with the back of my hand between words. "I thought Chris Hansen was going to pop out of the trees!" I couldn't help but laugh with him in relief.
"I'm sorry, really," he said, lifting his body to produce a thin, threadbare vintage wallet from his back pocket. "Twenty-three. Twenty-four next month." He handed me his driver's license as proof.
Cullen, Edward A.
Even his driver's license photo was sexy. Hair all disheveled, one eyebrow cocked up slightly, the hint of a knowing smile warming his face.
I can think of one organ I'd like to be the recipient of.
"I'm twenty-two," I said as I handed the card back to him.
Even if he had just given me a fucking aneurysm thinking that I was going to have to register as a sex offender, I had to admit, his playfulness was disarming. I'd sometimes thought of my "type" as dark, mysterious, and brooding, but being around Edward felt natural, effortless.
"And that's me," he pointed to a small building set back off the road. It was almost invisible in the darkness, standing out only where the glow of a light penetrated a window. There were no other houses around. He apparently lived out in the middle of nowhere.
"So." My heart thudded. The anxiety was seeping back into my brain as I realized the potential for rejection that this moment held.
I fucking hate awkward goodbyes. Please just kiss me before something stupid and/or insane comes out of my mouth.
He took my hand from my lap, stroked my fingers gently, turned it palm side up. He raised it to his lips so slowly, placing the softest funnel-cake-flavored kiss inside and folding my fingers around it like a gift.
He said nothing, just looking in my eyes. His expression was difficult to read. Studious? Pensive?
Was he trying to make a graceful exit without getting my number?
I couldn't let him go like that - not after throwing off my mantle of shyness on the ride the way I did. Not after sharing the most amazing, unexpected, exhilarating moment of my life with him. No, if I was going to remember this night with a tear in my eye, goddammit, it would be because he rejected me, not because I gave up and walked away just assuming that he would.
Say something, Bella. No grunting like Rosalie said. Say a word.
"Fuck," I whispered.
Go with that, fuck's a word! It's a command even!
His amused expression was so genuine, so easily open. He seemed to have this boyish fearlessness that made me wonder if he's ever been hurt.
And thank the sweet mother of fuck, he spoke.
"Can we not turn this into a contest to see who can hide their feelings better?" His other hand was on my face, his cool thumb stroking my cheek slowly. His dark jade eyes flickered in the light from the dashboard.
"Okay," I breathed.
"I've never met anyone like you," he spoke softly, "Ever. Everything about you has me intrigued and right now, you have my full and undivided attention. I like you, Bella. I want to know you. So whatever you want me to be, friend, lover, boyfriend ... whatever you want to let me be, I'm in."
His voice was so earnest, unshaking, I wanted to ask how he can stand it, how he can bear to put his heart in my teeth like that.
"I've definitely never met anyone like you either," my voice trembled, giving me away, "and I want more too, whatever that looks like."
I was shocked to have uttered a complete sentence.
In the darkness, I didn't see his mouth descend to kiss me as much as I felt its warmth a second before it actually touched mine. My eyes fell closed and the softness of this kiss, the gentleness in his lips was nothing like the urgent burning I felt on the Ferris wheel. Those kisses were gasoline and neon. This one was honeysuckle and fireflies.
He pulled back only to kiss me again, lips parted slightly, the hand that was on my cheek sliding to the back of my neck and gently guiding me closer, and it was too late, I was lost, I already knew.
There is a point when you begin a relationship, before which you can withdraw your paltry emotional investment and walk away good as new, brushing the discarded one off your hands like chalkdust.
In his soft kiss, I had acknowledged that I was past that point already. And I only met him a couple of hours ago.
To someone like me, who before tonight couldn't say five words in a row to anyone she was interested in, this definitely means trouble.
Edward broke the kiss again, quickly placing his lips to me one last time, and with only a moment's hesitation, dropped my hand and reached for the door handle.
I was a puddle. I wondered how long I would rest silently in this seat until somebody with a ShamWow arrived to clean me up.
Once outside, he leaned in through the open window and thanked me for the ride.
"I could say the same," I exhaled.
He breathed a laugh and shook his head in amusement.
"If you're not busy tomorrow, I'll be back at the fair all day … I mean, I'll be stuck working, but we could talk, maybe go someplace after closing?"
I nod, "I'll be there."
Another plate or two of funnel cake, plus more kissing from the sexiest boy to ever feel me up? Fucking twist my arm.
"See you then," he whispered, smiling, and turned away.
"Oh, one more thing," he stepped back toward me, mischief painted into his wry smirk. "You might want to check your iPod, I think some jerk's been fucking with it."
He patted the Volvo twice as he turned and walked into the darkness.
I sat motionless for a moment before putting the car in reverse, memorizing the way I felt, the breath of his kiss still on my lips, his beachy firepit smell lingering tenuously in my car, his sweet words circling my ears like seagulls.
He wants to be mine.
New. Fucking. Happy place.
I was only able to get back to the main road before the curiosity was too much and I pulled over in a convenience store parking lot to grab my iPod and inspect it. Everything looked fine … I wasn't really even sure what I was supposed to be looking for. I checked the On-The-Go playlist that was previously empty and shitshitSHIT - he'd made a setlist there. No wonder he had seemed so preoccupied as I was driving. He had been picking a little bouquet of music for me. And these were all really good goddamn songs. It started with Liz Phair's "Supernova", went into some William Fitzsimmons, and even included an Ani DiFranco song. The mix seemed to be both fiery and smooth: a lot like him.
Suddenly, the entire day was crashing over me like a warm, heavy wave, and I rolled the windows up in preparation to look like a 14-year-old who'd just seen pictures of Justin Bieber naked.
The teenager inside me brought this screaming giggle bubbling out from my lungs, and I bounced in my seat and squealed like I just won some kind of orgasm lottery, which, honestly, I really kind of hoped I had.
"Fuck shit fuck! Bella! Enough with the fucking screaming!" It was a female voice, so soft, I wasn't positive if I'd heard it or imagined it.
"Hello?" I peered in the back seat and around the parking lot, but there was no one.
"Jesus horsefucking Christ, I had my volume all the way up trying to listen to you two fuck," the voice continues, "and then you start screaming like that? Not cool, You Bitch."
The voice was coming from the change tray in the console beside me. From my phone.
Oh god. I must have answered her call by accident instead of sending it to voicemail.
That meant Alice had eavesdropped on most of my conversation with Edward.
I rejected the impulse to throw the phone out the window and instead held it to my ear.
"Alice, you hot bag of monkey piss. You were listening to all that?"
"Well, I was, until you squealed like a pig and made me fucking deaf!"
I brought my voice down to a whisper. "So … so what did you think?"
Alice snorted, "I think we'd better stop at the drugstore for some condoms before we go back to the fair tomorrow."
A/N: Sorry this took me so long. i'm not really a writer, remember? Hope it meets with your approval. If there is more, it'll probably take about the same.
i pulled that "Gee, Mister, i'm only 17" shit on my husband the night we met. i was actually 22. You should have seen his face. i still laugh at that.
Millions of deep fried sugar-coated kisses to Mrs. The King for her enthusiastic support, and being kind enough to read and rec me, as well as to Lo21 for her ongoing encouragement. If you haven't read her latest story "All The Colors of My Heart", you are missing out, no joke.
And thank you again for reading.