1,439CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Jane was surprisingly very picky about dresses.
"Jane, we don't have a lot of time." Edward tiredly tugged his ear. "It's a long drive to Seattle, you know."
"Just a minute, I swear." Jane buzzed her lips as she stared down at her dress choices all spread across my bed. She bounced her knee, both in excitement and anxiety.
It looked familiar; I vaguely remembered my first dance, and smiled. "Hey, Jane, you can just try on your top choices if you're not sure. I don't mind."
She smiled widely. "You don't?"
"Of course not."
I tried to remember what the lady at the men's formal wear store at Aberdeen told me – the proper color matching.
"I think you'll look great in blue. Or purple." I nudged her with the dresses of those shades. "Restroom's over there. Go on."
With the most nervous smile, Jane looked at Edward.
Edward gazed through the ice blue crystal glass of my perfume bottle, blinking slowly, before putting it down and looking at us. I saw slight disapproval.
"Please, please, please?" Jane pleaded.
"Yeah," I said softly, "come on, Edward."
"All right, all right." He sighed, one side of his lips tipping up, and slid his glance off to the side. "How can I refuse my two favorite girls?"
I nodded seriously and patted down the skirt part of the blue dress; I wondered if there was enough time to iron out that crinkle. "Looks good on you."
"I really like it too; I think I want to go with this one. It's so… soft." Jane did a little ballerina twirl, arms and legs dancing. "What do you think, Teddy?"
Edward's eyes narrowed on her revealed thighs. "You might as well go naked. You're not going anywhere with that dress."
"Yes, I am."
"Who are you trying to impress? Should I be worried?"
"No!" Jane desperately looked at me, sputtering now. "Bella!"
I pressed my lips so they wouldn't twitch. "Well… Edward, you really liked that dress before. When I wore it to Homecoming. If I'm remembering this right."
"Yeah," he replied, "exactly my point."
I cleared my throat, stealing glimpses at Jane. I didn't think she caught that; she was too busy watching herself through the looking glass.
Edward's cool broke when his lips cracked into the tiniest smirk. He didn't bother to hide it.
It all started because I asked Jane if she wanted to try on a facemask before getting her makeup done.
"Stop laughing," Edward Cullen mumbled.
I was laughing. "I'm not."
"Shh," Jane insisted, also laughing, as she used my bobby pins to pin up Edward's unruly hair; the task seemed quite complex. "Stop moving."
Edward rested his elbows against the bottom of my bed. Our eyes met, but only for a second, because his suddenly closed.
He sighed this time, wincing as the cool facemask touched his face.
"Girls actually do this?" he asked, blinking up at the ceiling.
"Mhm – and Bella, you should get one too!" Jane started ripping open a new package, extracting a saturated white cotton mask from it. "We can be triplets."
I chuckled nervously. "No thank you. I'm good"
"Come on, Bella!" said the girl.
"Yeah, come on, Bella," Edward teased, mocking my words.
With the cotton mask flattened on my face, I carefully fell back on the rug. Jane followed, and she smiled at me when I looked at her.
I smiled back.
And Edward might have fallen asleep.
"Jane, is this your first dance?"
"Yep."
I felt somewhat pensive. "Excited?"
"Yeah. I still can't believe Ted's taking me. I think it's safe to say that I have the coolest brother." She kind of peeked at his sleeping form, and dropped her voice. "But don't tell him I said that."
"Heard you anyway," murmured Edward.
"Oops," she whispered.
Edward smiled.
I watched how my curtains threw shadows at my bedroom ceiling, the sunlight breaking in through the window.
I felt myself zoning out but also thinking.
This moment.
Right now.
For some reason, right this moment, wearing masks, Edward, Jane, and I seemed like same people – allies, even.
Weird.
I sat up.
"What's wrong, Bella?" Jane asked me, a little tiredly.
Edward inhaled and sat up also, rubbing his eyes and realizing with a slight jump that he still had the facemask on. He tore it off with a pinch, laughing through his nose as he dangled the mask between his fingers.
I shrugged. "Nothing."
I would have to hold onto that thought.
This, too, all started because I offered to paint Jane's nails.
"Promise me you won't tell anyone about this," Edward mumbled.
His eyes held a serious warning, but his hair was still pinned up so I couldn't take him seriously.
I threw my head back and laughed, the sound all hearty and loud.
Edward's toenails were shiny pink.
By the time Jane was rather expertly coating the pink with the transparent nail polish, she was sticking her tongue out and concentrating on the paintwork.
As we waited for the nails to dry – Edward turned on the fan and stuck his feet before it – we finished off the leftover crème brule from the party.
"This is good," Jane marveled. "Who made this?"
"Me," Edward and I said at the same time.
He blinked down at me, while I blinked up at him.
"Technically, he did all the work –"
"She's the one who told me what to do –"
We looked at each other again, this time a long time, and I thought about that night he told me about college and long summers.
"Whoa, you two are zoning out on me." Jane chuckled and gently placed her spoon and polished-off cup beside her. "Awkward."
Edward began to whistle.
I wondered if he remembered.
Edward was right; we were running out of time.
In a matter of minutes, I made sure that Jane's hair was teased into youthful curls.
For the last finishing touch, I ran my hand through her hair so the curls were naturally, prettily messy. "Do you like it?"
"Love it."
I sighed in relief.
Edward's grin was positively mischievous when he spotted his little sister. He'd been in the process of sifting through my makeup cabinet. "Who's this? What have you done to my sister?"
"Oh, shut up, Ted."
I smirked. "We haven't even started."
The girl sat herself down by the mirror. She blinked back at her reflection and then at me. "Make me look pretty, Bella."
"You already are," I told her.
"I second that," Edward said.
Jane didn't look convinced.
"She's usually right you know," he added significantly.
I painted Jane's eyelids peach pink and showered her collarbones with the thinnest film of fine sparkling powder.
"Done," I said at last and stood behind her.
Jane squared her shoulders and elongated her neck and back. She stared demurely at her pretty reflection, and I watched as Edward came to tower over her with me.
His eyes were soft and gentle. "You're going to be the prettiest girl tonight."
He consciously nudged my elbow with his – thank you, I was sure he meant.
I was torn between a returning nudge and a real acknowledgement. I did neither.
Edward was going to be her date.
Something about seeing him decked out in that black shirt, which was tucked in his slacks, and a belt, and then his sister in my blue Homecoming dress, made me a little nostalgic – reminded me of last year's autumn-winter.
Just as Jane pulled on her puffy jacket, I stopped her and handed her my gauzy cardigan instead.
"You're so nice," she mumbled, biting her lip.
"Not a big deal – oh, and one more thing."
I twisted her around so her back faced me and asked her to hold up her hair. I sprayed a smidgen of my perfume on the area where her shoulders met below her neck.
"You'll smell divine," I explained.
Edward sniffed her shoulder. "She'll smell like you, actually."
I shrugged.
It was as I waved Jane goodbye from my doorway that I felt devastating exhaustion and realized that Edward and I never really got to talk.
In fact, I'd forgotten about all the problems he and I had in the first place, as if we hadn't been confined the same room for quite a few hours.
I wondered why all day and all night.
And couldn't figure out.
All nestled in a hoodie and wet showered hair, I woke in the night to the sound of my name being called.
I was not surprised to see Edward standing by the tree overlooking the window.
I leaned on my arms and looked down but couldn't look at his face for long.
"Let me in," he said quietly.
It was really beginning to hurt now – this whole thing – this looking at him – this everything – and I was scared.
But in he came because I let him.
My room was barely lit by the lamplight and the Christmas lights hanging off the wall.
He was so beautiful in the soft orange light.
"How was the dance?" I started quietly.
"Interesting." He passed me my neatly folded dress and cardigan. "She didn't want to take them off."
I smiled fondly. "Did she have fun?"
"Too much fun. She got a kick out of showing me to her friends." Grinning at a memory, he toyed with all the little trinkets on my bedside drawer, holding and inspecting some longer than others. He looked at me, then. "Well, all thanks to you. I wasn't the makeup artist or the stylist. It was nice of you."
I offered him a seat on the wheeled chair. I sat on my bed.
And then we were talking about graduation, which was going to happen in two weeks.
And I asked him about college, to which he said that he was leaving town permanently just a few days after the ceremony.
The thought hurt but not as much as I thought it would; maybe I'd numbed – or slowly numbing.
Then he stopped talking, rather abruptly, although I had no idea why – but he was staring at my face, and maybe he saw something there. I didn't know.
I thought, revisiting the thoughts I'd tabled earlier.
Then in the most unaffected voice, I asked, "Do you think we'll ever work out?"
His eyes faded. "I don't know."
"Yeah, same."
I stood, my back toward him, and approached the opposite wall, nose almost touching it.
"Before you go…" My throat clenched. "I just need to know…"
Then it was something he said – a follow-up – that started a fight – a real fight.
Our voices grew louder and louder.
And suddenly, there was talking that was much too loud for three in the morning.
Then it was past loud – now yelling.
We were fighting, completely in each other's faces, unreasonable words hurting each other, coming closer, voice growing even more violently, me pointing fingers and shoving his shoulder, him glaring fiercely but taking each of my jab as if he knew he deserved every single one. It also felt as though he couldn't bear to touch me.
"I'm not saying betrayal on your part is cheating on me. It's putting someone else before me. But you, Edward – you did both! I don't think I can ever look at you the same way."
"I did not sleep with Alice – see? You have your own trust issues; you hurt me too. You were the same. RJ? Really, Bella? So let's say you never slept with him – how does that make a fucking difference?"
"What, you're getting angry at me for wanting more? You weren't giving me anything – you were just take, take, take. Royce at least gave me something, and for once, I didn't have to play the guessing games!"
Then came the devastating exhaustion again.
Back on my bed, I buried my face on my lap and knotted my hands in my hair. My breaths were heavy and stilted.
Edward found a corner and stuck out an arm on that wall, head ducked and hand palming his face.
Stillness settled between us, and stayed with us for a long time.
He and I had never been more out of words.
His honesty – just a moment of honesty – was all I needed.
But the minutes ticked away, and something told me that this was him adding another row of bricks to his already impossibly tall wall.
"This just isn't working out. Enough's enough," I said finally.
He looked at me abruptly. "What are you trying to say?"
"I think what I'm trying to say is that… I give up." I nodded to myself, letting those words sink in because they slipped out on their own accord. "I'm so sorry; I really am. But… you should go now."
Never had I ever told him to go. It was always me, going; it was always him, telling me to.
Maybe he realized this too, because instead of going, he came.
He came to me and dropped – fell – to both of his knees as if in prayer.
"Bella."
I sat speechless and motionless.
"Bella," he called again, except sounding softer and more scared.
I didn't echo his name.
"Bella." One more time, pleading.
He reached for my hand, desperately shaking it to get my attention. It was as though he'd just realized that I'd turned away from him for good.
"I miss you," he said, voice robotic and dead not because he didn't mean the words but because he'd probably never said them to anyone before.
I didn't cave. I looked away. "That's too bad."
"I'm sorry," he went on; he probably never said that either. "I need you. Please forgive me. I just need… If you'd just stick with me – just a little bit longer –" He cut himself off.
He reached for my hands again, and I let him hold them.
He brought them to his face and watched me. "Say something."
Say something? Impossible.
"I need someone like you to be at my side. It doesn't have to be love. So please. Don't tell me to go. I don't want to lose you."
His words faded into faint murmured pleas.
His eyes were red and flickering and wet.
"I messed up, didn't I?"
"Too many times," I managed to say, eyes on my lap now.
"I lost you?"
He searched my face, and he got his answer.
Then he buried his face on my lap… and cried.
I felt invincible.
Merciless, even.
I stared right at his face, watching him burn and crash and cry.
Edward was crying for me.
This wasn't the guy I knew, and I was terrified.
He asked for forgiveness, but all I could give back was silence.
The merciless part of me kept staring.
The invincible part of me made me lean forward and embrace his shoulders.
There were tears streaming down his face to my neck – this time, there was no mistake.
"Don't cry," I mumbled, stunned.
His sadness was bleak and quiet, and it was unsettling.
Each second, this heaviness in my heart grew more and more critical, and it was that and his crumbling grip around my waist that kept me from breathing properly.
"You can't go, not like everyone else," he said.
"You're the one going, silly."
His body slumped down, his face back on my lap. I stroked his tangled hair and scratched his head because I knew he liked it.
But he caught my wrist, his hand shaking with excess power.
I relaxed my hand. "I'm not going anywhere."
He squeezed then let go.
His eyes were wetter, redder, and sadder. And I was relieved to see that there was no brilliant smile or artifice.
His eyes and smiles – I would remember forever and ever – sometimes falsely bright and other times arrogant and smirking.
But tonight's was different and neither of those things; tonight's was honest and true and genuine and sincere.
Honest.
Honesty. All I ever needed was honesty.
"You're gifted with a smile, Ted," she'd told him that summer morning. "Never lose it."
It was supposed to be a nice summer vacation by the lake house.
The last thing Edward was able to recall about his mother was the way the bottom hem of the silky white robe swam against the shore wind.
"Bye, Teddy," she'd told him just before he left her to explore the nearby caves.
She'd hated the word – "bye" – because she'd hated the finality of it.
But she'd said it that day, and it certainly did ring with finality because two days later, her body was found, cold and wet and drowned.
He and Rosalie were going to run away by New Year's Eve – see Europe, drop by Asia, maybe dawdle a little in South America if they found the time.
They were going to leave everything behind, because it was hard to breathe in the little town in Washington. She had her scars too, and understood his like no other.
On Christmas Eve, he went to propose: a bouquet of roses for Rose.
But he found her with another boy.
He threw the flowers at her chest; her skin was left marked and bleeding by the rose thorns that pierced.
On Christmas day, she was found dead, alone and cold in a car. Someone had crashed and ran.
He never went to her funeral, because he knew that through the open casket, he would see the scratches he'd engraved on her chest from that other day – ones that would never, ever heal.
Sometimes, he wondered what she might have had to say because he never gave her the chance.
When he saw me for the first time, he thought I had a cute, uneven smile.
When he asked me out, he thought he and I would make a cute couple. He knew we would win best-looking couple.
When I gave him my virginity, he thought it was the craziest thing, because he didn't understand why I chose to give it to him.
Whenever we would have normal conversations, he loved that it was possible that we could actually act and be a normal couple.
When he asked whether I wanted to run away with him, he meant it.
When he said I was his, he meant it.
He told me he loved it when I blinked up at him, smiling and scrunching my nose.
He told me he really, really liked matching my shorter strides whenever we walked hand-in-hand.
And he told me some more until we were lying on the bed.
I fell asleep in his arms.
But I woke up to the feel of cold sheets wrapped around my naked body, alone and abandoned.
Next thing I noticed were the written words on my forefinger, and I ran my thumb over them first time, second time, third time, and endlessly more until his ink words blurred.
My eyes and nose smarted, and I quenched my fist.
Now we had honesty, but honesty didn't change a thing.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm alive! I promised an update a longggg time ago to some of you guys, so I'm very, very sorry that I didn't. School is really crazy (it was AP exam week a while ago), and graduation is approaching (JUNE 8!) so I'm kind of in a daze right now (prom is today too, btw). Feels weird that high school is going to be all past me in a matter of few weeks…
Well! Tell me how you felt about this chapter.
Btw, I'm waitlisted to my first-choice university (although I have other great options). I'm pretty fucking desperate right now, so please wish me the best of luck :'). As funny as this sounds, I think that's why I couldn't focus on writing this chapter (I was forcing out the writing, so it didn't feel right); I'm too caught up on fucking college, ugh.
Anyway, don't kill me. And I'm incredibly sorry!
Sarah