AN: Thank you all!
This story is up on the poll at The Lemonade Stand.
Thank you for reading!
The letters were found every morning, stuck in my door, when I went to grab the morning newspaper on the doorstep. It was ripped out of a journal that had his name on the top and stuck in envelopes covered in Grateful Dead bears. I had the sneaking suspicion that he stole them from his parents.
Your lips ignite something in the pit of my soul. It makes me feel as if the sun is warming me from the inside out.
Plain Jane's lips left me frozen into a block of ice. Her touch was unwanted and unwarranted. She tried to erase the heat of you and only made me crave you more.
I would drink my coffee and eat Rice Krispies taking in Edward's words. They would snap, crackle and pop in my mouth as the words I read would make every nerve ending feel like they too were exploding.
I've been walking in a meadow that is near my parent's house and thinking of you. I want to kiss you in the grass as it tickles our skin. The apples of your cheeks become rosy as the sun beats down on them. I trace the freckles that grace your button nose. It's what I can imagine true happiness feels like.
Edward had a way with words. That was without question, but could he back it up? Life was more than pretty sentences full of whimsical descriptions of love. Life was sad and full of self doubt. In a way, I craved his optimism and his belief in romance. I wonder if he could see any benefit of rationally weighing the pros and cons of any new relationship and then running as fast as you can in the opposite direction.
That was a terrible idea that I did often and really hated. I screwed things up. Edward screwed things up. We were on a collision to destruction at the very start. I missed him.
"Sweetheart, is there something intriguing out that window or do you want to read to us what you wrote?" Garrett pulled me out of my pondering staring contest with a little brown wren who was shivering on the window sill of the classroom. It was too cold for class outside and I thought Garrett was cranky for being cooped indoors. The bland, beige walls and cream tile floors made the room feel more like a hospital ward than an institution of learning.
Edward sat in between Eric and Mike. He was spinning his pen around on his desk and staring at me. He wrote only poetry about noses.
I missed his laugh.
"Should I read it?" I really didn't want to.
"It is the reason for the class, isn't it? You write and read it. I grade it," Garrett said. He started red marking a piece of paper in front of him.
I was not impressed with cranky Garrett and even less with this assignment. Edward looked about ready to wring Garrett's neck. "You need to go outside, Old Smokey? Have a tobacco stick and chill out? You know I'm not a fan of the smoking, but I'm even less fond of your attitude."
He just looked at me and barked out, "Sorry. Please read what you wrote."
Something was terribly wrong with him. His mouth was pressed into a tight line and his eyes were hard. Garrett's fingers tapped quickly on the top of the table as his knee twitched. I glanced at Edward, but he was too focused on me.
"I always bring daisies. The white blooms with sunny, yellow centers stands out from green grass. I pray over them with my forehead resting in the cool, hard stone. I feel your hand grasp my ankle from your home in the dirt. You finally want a part of me. A little too late."
Tanya looked up from filing her nails. "Oh my God! Is that about a zombie? That's been all played out!"
I disliked that wretched girl. I was certain she was going to be waxing unpoetic about orgasms again.
Garrett looked at me with concern. "That's not your usual choice of writing inspiration, our Bell."
I shrugged and looked down. I mumbled, "Trying something new."
I felt Edward's eyes on me and I tried to ignore him, as Tanya read her newest 50 Shades of Gray Fan fiction story. She had facial expressions to match. Tanya was had a horrible sex face. I could now see why no one dated her for long,
It took the rest of class for her to finish her tale and only Mike was excited. He was red faced and sweaty. It wasn't a surprise when she let him follow her like a puppy in heat.
My puppy Edward, followed me to my car. "That was about your mom."
"What you read in class," he explained. I knew well and good what he meant, but I didn't want to talk about it.
I kept walking. My newly heeled leg felt great. "Didn't you hear Tanya? I jumped on the zombie bandwagon."
He took my arm. "You can talk to me. Isn't that what you wanted? That the two of us could really get to know one another?"
"Yes, but not in a parking lot. Favorite colors and bar foods are parking lot chit chat." I rubbed my eyes. "Someday soon, I promise."
It was a few short weeks from the anniversary of the discovery of my mother's body. Ripped apart and thrown away like the carcass of a turkey after Thanksgiving dinner. I wasn't ready for my yearly opening of the emotional floodgates.
Edward squeezed my arm gently. "I'll be waiting."
I saw Garrett pacing with his cigarette lit. The sunglasses he wore covered his eyes and I could only imagine the torment that he hid behind them. I asked, "Could you talk to Garrett?"
"I'm not looking to get hit again, my Bell." Edward's face betrayed his nonchalant attitude. He was worried about Garrett too.
"You were best friends! It should be you to go to him and see what's happening." I squeezed Edward's hands and loved the feeling of it clasping mine. "He will act like a big, manly man to me and say nothing's wrong. We won't know anything!"
"Would this make you happy?" he questioned, as his fingers twisted into my hair.
I shut my eyes from staring and wanting desperately to declare my affection. If I wanted this, we needed to build on a foundation of stone not sand. "Listen well, grasshopper. This can't be about me. It has to be about you and Garrett. How important was your friendship with him and how much do you miss it? Fix that and then we work on us."
"Hey gold star, you are the real deal." He tapped my nose and I looked into his softly smiling face.
"You have lots of nicknames for me, Lord Byron," I said, slowly moving away.
His grin grew. "You're one to talk."
"Fix it." I unlocked my car.
"I promise with all my heart." His hand rested on that beating muscle that kept us moving, dreaming and loving.
"I'll count on it."
I looked in the mirror as I brushed my teeth. My hair was a disaster in a messy bun and I wore the nightgown that Edward liked so much. Threadbare fabric and washed out colors on the floral pattern. One of the straps fell off my right shoulder. My glasses were sliding off my nose and I looked like a mess.
It was extremely comfortable. Edward liked this look on me. It was one of his charms.
Shuffling into the bedroom, I grabbed a paperback about a serial killer with a conscious and settled into my bed. Edward's newest letter sat on the nightstand.
I tried to ignore it, as I attempted to concentrate on my book. The note was taunting me.
Once again, my willpower escaped me and I grabbed the envelope with the bright, dancing bears. I opened it greedily and began to read.
I know you're right. I really do, Bell oh mine. It's the dreams that make me question my willpower. I can feel the ghost of your mouth on mine, lingering and calling me home.
My fingers traced my lips without thought.
The way your nipples perk up under my touch and when I pepper them with adoring kisses. The sounds you make are the most melodic of songs.
I caressed my breasts imagining large hand that were slightly rough instead of my soft, smaller ones.
I tickle down your pale skin. It's the skin of an angel that fell out of heaven to be with me.
My hands followed the familiar path he would make the nights he stayed loving me.
Infinity signs rubbed into your body as I enter fingers. One. Two. Three.
Following the lead of his words, I pushed my fingers the way Edward used to with a slow push and pull.
The infinity signs are what you mean to me. I think we've always been forever. Through birth and death, we always find a way to be linked. You are my other half.
In and out. A little faster and then a little more. I tightened around myself and imagined it was him. Always Edward.
You are my love as our symbol goes round and round in it's continuous loop.
"Edward! My love!" I cried, as I came.
"Oh God, that's so fucking beautiful," Edward's husky voice said.
I looked up to see him gazing in my window from a tree limb. Gerber daisies were clutched in his hands.
"What the fuck?" I screamed.
Edward yelled back. "Oh shit!"
He fell out of the tree.
I ran to the window and saw him lying on the ground. The flower were on his chest. I called down, "Are you dead?"
"My butt is going to be sore tomorrow," he replied.
Good, because I was going to kill him.
In a fury, I ran down the stairs and out of the house. I grabbed the hose. "What's your problem, Peeping Tom?"
"You were so beautiful! Like an angel in ecstasy!"
I sprayed him with the hose.
"Stop! It's cold!" He sat up, shivering. "I was being like Romeo and climbing into your window. Seeing your sexy moves was an added bonus."
I sprayed him again. "I hate Romeo and Juliet! Idiot children who used love to act like dumb asses and kill themselves! You don't know me!"
"Which is your favorite?" He asked earnestly. "Shakespeare?"
I replied, "Taming of the Shrew."
"I can see that!" He laughed, so I sprayed him.
He crawled towards me, "A kiss goodnight?"
Dropping the hose, I put out my hand. "I'll help you up."
He pulled me down on top of him. "Hi there."
"You are such a pain!" I complained. I loved his mouth and the feeling of his wet shirt against my skin.
"Pucker up, Lord Byron. You get one." This kiss was for me. I needed him. I kissed him hard.
It felt like heaven.