The Emotional Education of Edward Cullen - Chapter 7
Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.
Author: Picklewinkle (ff.net)/JCAddict (LJ)
Characters/Pairing: Edward & Bella
Rating: M
Category: Drama/Angst/Romance
Spoilers: None
Summary: Edward Cullen is brilliant and complicated but also closed off and socially inept. Can Bella teach him how to tap into and understand his emotions through an unorthodox experiment without breaking her own heart in the process? AH.
Chapter 7: I Wanna Hold Your Hand
DISCLAIMER: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder of the words, plot and lackluster formatting belong to me.
Once again, Scorp112 and LightStarDusting, my wonderful and talented betas, have lent their brilliance to this chapter. At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I feel incredibly lucky to have their help and guidance.
Thank you to everyone who has been reading and reviewing. The story picked up a number of new readers with this last chapter. I'm not sure how you found the story but I'm glad to have you here.
Chapter 7: I Wanna Hold Your Hand
BPOV
It was Saturday, three in the afternoon, and I was still in bed. Edward was the first thing I thought of when I woke up, and I'd spent the better part of the last seven hours trying to figure out how to handle things with him. I'd been up and down every argument - both for and against his experiment - debated the pros and cons, and scrutinized every reason why I shouldn't do it. Though perfectly aware of the potential for disaster and the enormous obstacles that stood in front of me, it all came down to a single question: would I regret not taking the chance to get closer to Edward? And the answer was always the same - yes.
I'd had a crush on Edward from the moment we met on the playground. I was five years old the day Bobby Higgins pulled my ponytail and took my favorite hair ribbon. When I demanded he give it back to me, he shoved me down to the ground. Bobby was cruel and spiteful, so my tears didn't faze him a bit. He just laughed and called me a baby. Edward appeared out of nowhere, like a hero in waiting, all messy-haired and green-eyed. He helped me up, walked me to the office, and stayed with me until I stopped crying. He was kind, thoughtful and gentle - everything that Bobby wasn't. During the last recess that day, Edward brought me my satiny blue ribbon, his lip split and bleeding, but grinning in spite of himself. I kept that ribbon safely tucked away, and whenever I needed to feel like I mattered to someone in the world, I pulled it out and held it. He saved me that day, and a few times since.
It hurt when our friendship fell apart. I tried to apologize for what happened in the park and explain about my parent's divorce, but he wouldn't speak to me. Day after day, I attempted to tell him I was sorry, but each time I did, he'd tell me the same thing: We can't be friends; you're better off without me. His words never made sense to me. I needed his friendship more than I ever had before; it was the one thing I counted on to be the same in my life when everything else had changed. After a month of trying, Edward asked me to flat out leave him alone. He told me that he didn't want to be my friend. He told me that we had never been friends and never would be. It was the one time I needed him to save me that he didn't.
I watched helplessly from the sidelines as Edward pulled away from everyone, including me. He was absent from school for long periods of time. I never understood why, and there was no one I could ask for an explanation. At the time, it just made me miss him more. It made sense in hindsight, now that I knew about his father's death and his mother's job, but my heart still ached for him. He shouldn't have had to deal with his father's death alone. If only I'd known, I would have tried harder to get him to forgive me. Though there was nothing I could do to change what happened now, I still hated the way it made me feel.
The sane part of my brain recognized that Edward's experiment was outrageous. It was just the sort of thing I would expect from him, though. He didn't think the way most people did. The idea made sense to him, and that was as far as his brain questioned it. I knew that I was foolish for even considering his request, but I also knew that it might be my only chance to get close to Edward in a romantic sense. He was introverted and socially inhibited. He didn't relate well to his peers - girls especially. A tiny part of me, the same part that was saved by Edward all those years ago, held onto the hope that I could be something to him other girls couldn't. It was probably short-sighted of me to think that way; it was self-indulgent and pompous, if nothing else.
I wasn't deluding myself. I knew that if I took part in his experiment, I might as well be signing a contract for heartbreak. Edward was very clear about the fact that he wasn't looking for any kind of emotional attachment. I, on the other hand, had always felt an attachment to him. It began the moment he returned my ribbon to me, and that attachment would surely strengthen if our relationship became physical. As much as I wished to remain unaffected by him, it just wasn't in me to be unemotional. The question for me was whether or not the payoff of Edward's affection would be worth the pain.
It was rather ironic that Edward thought his offer was risk free; he was unknowingly ensuring my heartache with his plan. I wasn't blaming him. My feelings were my responsibility, and if I decided to take part in the experiment, the resulting heartache would be my responsibility, too. My reasons for considering Edward's plan might be screwed up, but my perspective was flawless. Having a mother who was absent by choice and a father who'd ruined his life waiting for her to come back had taught me to be accountable. It was too easy to blame someone else for the things we did to ourselves.
A part of me wondered what would happen if he knew what I felt for him. Would he reject me? Would he even enter into the experiment in the first place? In essence, my feelings for him nullified his entire hypothesis. Ours could never be a relationship without emotional complications. My emotions would affect every touch we would ever exchange. That's not to say that Edward couldn't remain unemotional; I was quite sure he could, and his ability to do just that would likely break my heart in the end.
So, if I moved forward with Edward, it would be with my eyes wide open and perhaps void of my sanity.
I forced myself out of bed and headed straight to the shower. If I was going to play Russian roulette with my heart, at least I could look good doing it. After washing my hair, I used the diffuser and finished it with the curling iron. The end result was a head full of tame, silky curls. In the back of my mind, I knew it was all in vain. Edward didn't notice things like pretty hair, but it was important to project a confident image, even if I was faking it on the inside. I dressed comfortably, in jeans and a long sleeve tee, and grabbed my hoodie on my way out the door.
I drove to the only Chinese restaurant in Forks. Something told me Edward wouldn't be impressed with chicken balls and fried rice, so I'd called in the day before and asked the owners for some food recommendations. They knew me well and didn't mind helping me plan the meal. After paying and leaving a generous tip to say thank you, I headed to Edward's house.
It was still early when I arrived, so I stayed in the car for a few minutes, thinking about the consequences of the choice I was about to make. As strange as Edward's idea was, I had to take the chance to be with him. It was what I'd always wanted. Deep down, I think I always knew I would do it; I just needed time to come to terms with my decision.
Just like every other experiment, ours needed a purpose, so we'd know what we were trying to accomplish and why. Edward's purpose was a safe sexual experience with someone he trusted that allowed him to learn proper technique through hands-on experience. His purpose supported his hypothesis - that satisfying sex was all technique and independent of emotions. I could help Edward test his hypothesis, but the purpose of the experiment was drastically different for me. I would be testing what I'd always felt for him, to see what it was capable of making me feel. I would be working against Edward's emotional independence - challenging him on an emotional level to remain detached from the experience - and daring myself not to fall in love with him.
Like Edward said, it was an opportunity to learn, and I would learn exactly what my heart was capable of.
~8~
EPOV
Bella arrived a few minutes early. I didn't understand why she stayed in her car instead of coming to the door. Was punctuality that important to her? When I finally saw her car door open, it set off a succession of feelings: first relief, then pleasure, and finally, acute anxiety. Much of my day was spent thinking about what to say and which angles to use to convince her to take part in the experiment. Now that the time had arrived, I wasn't at all sure I was going about things in the best way.
Waiting for Bella to ring the doorbell felt too formal, so I stood at the open door to greet her.
"Can I take the bag for you?" I asked, holding the door open for her. As she stepped inside, she handed me the bag and then shook the rain off of her umbrella.
"I've lived in Forks my whole life, but I'm still surprised by how often it rains in this place," she said, smiling at me and slipping out of her raincoat. As I reached for her coat, she slid the bag from my hand.
"I can take both," I assured her.
She shook her head and smirked, holding the bag to her chest. "Nope, my dinner, my rules. Just point me in the direction of the plates and sit your butt down."
I led her to the kitchen and opened the cupboard to show her the plates. She grabbed a couple and sat down at the island to unpack the bag. I got us some silverware and took the stool beside Bella.
"I brought Chinese, but not just any Chinese. I asked Mrs. Chan to make dim sum for us." She peered into the bag and pulled out a set of chopsticks wearing a big grin on her face. "You can't eat it with silverware. You've got to use chopsticks."
"A fork and knife are much simpler." I spun the fork between my fingers and smiled hopefully.
"Nonsense. It's easy once you get the hang of it." She demonstrated how to hold them correctly and then handed them to me. "You try."
I did my best to mimic the way she held the pair, but they felt clumsy in my hand. Bella took out another set and showed me again.
"You don't need to hold them so far down. I only do that because my hands are small. It's actually easier if you hold them further up." I made the adjustment but it wasn't enough for Bella's liking. "May I?" she asked, reaching for my hand so quickly that I barely had time to process the question. As if she knew I'd try to pull away from her, she gripped my fingers firmly and pulled the chopsticks further through them. "Like that," she told me. My attention stayed focused on the chopsticks in my grasp until I felt her index finger brush softly over my knuckles. "They're still not completely healed," she noted quietly.
My cheeks flushed almost instantly, although I wasn't sure if the cause was her observation or her touch. "I probably should have had stitches to close the cuts." I kept the fact that she'd suggested that very thing at the hospital to myself, not wanting to hear an I told you so. I hesitated for a moment before pulling my hand back from her. Bella rejected my retreat, extending her fingertips back to my knuckles.
"I heard around school that you actually broke his nose," she informed me, her finger tracing the dark marks on my skin. They were all that remained of my injury. My hand twitched, but she ignored it.
"It wasn't anything he didn't deserve." I knew I should feel remorseful, but I didn't. If anything, I felt justified. A right hook wasn't nearly enough retribution for what he'd done to Bella. Just thinking about it made me angry all over again. "Did you file charges against him?"
"No," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "It would have been impossible to prove it was him." She retracted her hand suddenly. "I'm sorry you were hurt." Her forlorn voice was heartbreaking. It made me hate Mike all the more. I ignored the urge to ask her to explain her decision. She was still upset by what happened, understandably, and I didn't want to make her re-live it.
"What did you bring for us to eat?" I asked, intentionally changing the subject. There was no way I was going to allow what happened with Mike to set the mood tonight.
"Oh, I forgot to ask if you have a teapot? I brought some tea to drink with dinner." She was already on her feet, awaiting my answer.
"Right there." I pointed to a cupboard on the far wall.
She breezed across the kitchen and opened the cupboard, her eyes carefully scanning the shelves. The teapot was too high for her to reach, but she pushed up onto her tiptoes and stretched for it anyway. The elongated pose of her body was very picturesque - graceful and elegant. There was something captivating about the gentle curve of her hip and the way she balanced her weight on one foot. She flattened her palm against the countertop and stretched even further, letting out a quiet grumble of frustration. I'd been so caught up in studying her body that it wasn't until that moment that I realized how rude I was being. I slid out of my seat to help her.
"Let me get that for you," I murmured, pulling the teapot off the shelf and handing it to her.
"No short jokes!" she ordered, shooting me a sideways glance.
"No short jokes," I promised. "If it was safer to stand on one of the stools, I would have offered one to you. They're just too unstable."
"Yeah, me standing on a swiveling seat could only end one way - badly." She smiled a thank you and made herself at home, moving around the kitchen in punctuated bursts, inquiring where things were as she went. After using a pot to boil water, she finished making the tea while we chatted about some of the food she'd ordered. I took out two teacups.
"Those are pretty."
"My mother's china. We don't use it very often." I honestly couldn't remember the last time we'd used it.
"Why not?" She pulled a potholder out of the drawer in front of her and carefully moved the hot teapot over to the island.
"It's reserved for special occasions," I explained. "And with my mother's schedule, we simply don't celebrate many holidays at home."
"Should we be using it then?" She looked at me with a curious expression.
"I don't think she'd mind. In fact, if she were here, she'd probably have pulled it out herself." My mother cherished the set and loved to show it off. Many of the pieces had been wedding gifts.
Bella nodded and then carefully poured the tea. The only sound in the room was the light chinking of the teapot against the cups.
"Your hands are shaking," I noted quietly, wondering what on earth would have her trembling.
"It's nerves," she muttered. "I don't want to damage your mom's china." She was trying to disguise something with her tone, but it wasn't nervousness.
Once she finished pouring the tea, she picked up one of the containers. "I think you'll like these spring rolls. They're simple, nothing exotic."
Bella put a spring roll on my plate. I stared at it in perturbation while I tried to figure out how I was going to cut it using chopsticks. Bella giggled and held her spring roll up so I could see that she simply picked it up whole. I copied her, lifting mine to my mouth, and took a bite. It was quite good, a mixture of shredded pork and vegetables, with a subtle seasoning and sweetness. While I ate, Bella explained the flavors.
"Are you allergic to seafood?" she asked, opening the next container.
"No, why?"
She put something battered and deep-fried on my plate with a single word of explanation. "Squid."
I turned my nose up at it. "That is disgusting."
"I know it looks a bit dicey, but the flavor isn't very strong," she promised, smiling at me encouragingly.
"It has legs." And probably tentacles. I didn't want to look too closely at it.
"So does a cow, and I don't hear you complaining about hamburgers." She raised one of her eyebrows in challenge and stared at me.
"I can't eat that." As much as I wanted my statement to sound convincing, it didn't. I could eat it. I just didn't want to.
"Stop being such a baby, and try one bite." She picked up a piece and waved it at me playfully.
I fumbled with the chopsticks, struggling to pick up the squid with them. Once I finally had a hold of it, I quickly popped it into my mouth before I could change my mind. The taste was relatively innocuous, just as Bella promised.
"It has a very chewy texture," I noted sourly.
"A little bit, but it's tasty, right?" Her enthusiasm was in direct opposition to my antipathy.
"Tasty is a strong word." A more apt adjective would have been nasty.
"You're a baby," she concluded, feeding herself another piece. "More for me."
I didn't argue with her label, especially since it meant she didn't expect me to eat more squid. She took her time eating a few more pieces before moving on to the next container.
"This is more seafood, but shrimp," she explained guardedly, glancing up at me while she held the container out so I could examine the contents.
"I like shrimp. They're much less threatening," I said with a smile.
"They're called 'har gau.'" She placed a dumpling on my plate and watched me as I picked it up and took a bite.
"These I like." The skin of the dumplings was very thin, and they were stuffed with a filling made from chopped shrimp. It was a perfect mélange of delicate flavors.
Next we tried a steamed bun filled with barbecued pork. It was the oddest combination of ingredients that made for a delicious treat. The last dish was sticky rice cooked in a lotus leaf. I could taste hints of scallops, chicken and mushrooms, and I liked the crunch from the water chestnuts. For dessert we had mango pudding and Chinese steamed sponge cake. The pudding was silky and loaded with large chunks of fresh mango. The sponge cake was moist and delectable, and its coconut milk icing secured my vote for favorite dish of the night.
I refilled our tea, preparing myself to broach the subject of the experiment. The evening had been very lighthearted, and I was I reluctant to put an end to the ease.
"So I was thinking about your experiment," Bella said, pausing to take a sip of her tea.
"What exactly were you thinking about?" As soon as I asked the question, I regretted it. I braced myself for the worst.
"Mostly about what I should do," she told me quietly. She kept her eyes down, her gaze stuck on the teacup in her hands.
"Did you decide?" I held my breath, apprehensive about her answer.
"Sort of, I guess… but I have questions."
Questions were good. At the very least, they weren't a refusal to take part. "About what?" I asked cautiously.
"Before I agree to anything, I have to know what I'm agreeing to. I don't have any idea what your expectations are."
I breathed a sigh of relief; my expectations were an easy topic. "I haven't come up with a specific plan. It was something I assumed we would formulate together. As far as expectations, my biggest concern is that we're both comfortable, and I think by moving slowly we can ensure that. I thought we should begin with something simple and progress only if and when we both agree we're ready."
Her eyes flickered to mine. "What do you mean by simple?" she asked, unable to mask the wary expression on her face.
"I mentioned hand-holding. It seems like an appropriate jumping off point." I wanted to start with something that was entirely non-threatening to both of us. More than that, I wanted something we couldn't fail at. Success would set a precedent, starting the experiment off on the right foot and giving us a reason to continue toward something more intimate.
"Hand-holding is certainly simple," she agreed.
"I realize the action is extremely puerile from your point of view, but I've never had the experience. Plus, I believe it will be a good exercise to build our comfort level. What we're embarking on requires a great deal physical intimacy, so we need to be comfortable in close proximity. That's going to take some practice."
"I don't think it's puerile; it's kind of sweet," she remarked.
The tender tone in her voice made me self-conscious. "I wasn't suggesting it to be sweet," I corrected sternly.
"I know. I didn't mean to sound condescending. I like the way you're looking at things. I guess a part of me was expecting it to be a big rush to the finish. In my experience, it's always been about how far a boy can get and how fast he can get there."
"I'm not looking to rush you into anything you're not ready for," I told her honestly. "Nor am I doing this to have something to brag about. What goes on between us is private, and I intend to keep it that way."
"Maybe that's where we start then, by agreeing that anything that happens between us stays between us." Her voice was almost circumspect. I appreciated that she seemed to be taking this seriously.
"Agreed. The details of our experiment and any interactions between us will remain confidential."
"And I like the idea of building our comfort level," she added supportively. "I think holding hands is a perfect place to begin."
"Do you think we should set out targets of intimacy before we begin, so we both understand the steps and are on the same page in terms of goals?" I had a rough idea of how we might accomplish our task but was still curious about what Bella thought. I was equally afraid of scaring her away by saying too much, as I was with not being specific enough and having mismatched expectations.
"I guess it would be good to know how we're going to get to our intended end." She seemed hesitant, almost as if she had something else in mind.
"Did you have a suggestion?" I prompted.
"This is your baby. I figured you had some plan of attack in mind." She chewed on her lip absentmindedly, waiting for me to speak.
"While we were running, you mentioned pornography. I realize it's not the most tasteful aid, but perhaps it might suggest some aspects of sex that we haven't thought of."
"You seriously want me to watch porn with you?" Bella cheeks were tinged with pink as she asked the question. I thought I could detect a note of disgust in her tone too.
"Just to be clear, I am by no means suggesting we mimic the acts themselves. I was thinking of it as a tool to generate ideas and help us determine an approach that suits both of us." It seemed logical to me, given our mutual lack of experience with sex.
"Kind of like everything I ever needed to know I learned by watching porn?" she asked, laughing nervously.
"Kind of, I guess." I tried to laugh at her joke, but it came out more like a demented huff. Bella's emotions were all over the map, and until she was sure about how she felt, there wasn't much I could do to ease her fears.
"I'm not sure I can watch it and ever look you in the eye again. Porn isn't made for women, let alone to be watched in the presence of a girl you have no romantic feelings for." She couldn't even raise her eyes to look at me while she admitted her aversion, and I couldn't tell whether she was embarrassed or disgusted.
"There is no need to feel awkward about watching with me, Bella. It's just another step in the process. Pornography is made to arouse the mind. The brain is the largest sexual organ in the human body."
"Pornography may arouse the mind, but I think it's intended to arouse something else," she spat sarcastically, covering her face with her hand for a moment. Maybe it was both embarrassment and disgust. "It's just too much too fast, at least for me. Maybe for tonight we could leave the experiment at the holding hands step."
I was about to agree when she unexpectedly reached across the counter and covered my hand with hers. I instantly stiffened. She tried to mask her panic when her eyes darted to mine but wasn't able to completely eliminate it from her expression.
My reaction was wrong, diametrically opposite to how I should have responded, especially given what I was asking of Bella with my experiment. Not to mention, I liked her touch, at least I liked the touch of her lips to mine. Her kiss was why she sat in my kitchen tonight. The way the touch of her hand had made me feel - alarm that made me subconsciously recoil - felt nothing like her kiss.
I couldn't think of anything sensible to say, despite how the situation screamed for elucidation. My reaction made no sense. I didn't understand it and therefore couldn't explain it. Bella stared down at the counter and off into space, looking anywhere but at me. It was a wonder she hadn't slugged me. I would have deserved it if she had. Maybe the silence was her way of theoretically punching me, forcing me to deal with the aftermath of my behavior alone. I selfishly wished she'd smooth things over between us. She was so much better at it than I was.
I was tongue-tied and so entirely paralyzed that all I could do was stare down at our hands. As I looked at them, it hit me that she hadn't pulled her hand away yet, even with my unacceptable reaction. It was still resting softly on mine. I stared at her hand in amazement. As if my body were on delay, I felt its warmth spreading across my skin. I concentrated and finally registered the sparkling of energy between her hand and mine. The tingling was sort of like the volume on a radio being slowly turned up, becoming stronger with each second.
I was sure she'd pull away any moment. It would have been the appropriate action given my lack of response, but she didn't. From the corner of my eye, I could see her staring at me, probably waiting for me to turn to her. I didn't. I just looked at our hands and braced myself for it to be over.
But it didn't end. So I didn't move, and neither did she.
I lost track of time as we sat there. My hand eventually relaxed, but every cell in my body was vibrating on high in preparation for Bella's withdrawal. I wasn't anticipating the gentle caress of her thumb as it brushed across my skin. The rush it caused in me was astounding - like it was the something I needed but didn't know existed. It sent a shiver through me, a wave of coolness that rippled over my entire body and forced my relaxation. It was illogical that one small stroke of her finger could be so powerful, that it could leave me wanting more of the same - more of anything.
I persisted in my suspended state. I didn't know what to do to encourage her, nor did I wish to discourage her with the wrong action. I was afraid to even look in her direction and risk inciting questions I didn't know the answers to. I was inept, completely lacking in the simple skills I needed to interact positively with Bella, and the idea of simply asking for more left me feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. I waited anxiously, willing the movement of her fingers across my skin in vain. Her hand remained stubbornly still.
The more time that passed, the more I wanted to know what she was thinking. I glanced at her, only moving my eyes in her direction, and could see the look of quiet determination on her face. We were deadlocked, so I did the only thing I knew to break it and granted her the eye contact she was seeking. She smiled demurely. I barely heard the words that left her lips, focused instead on the slow movement of her fingers as they slipped across my skin.
"I have to go," she said softly.
I nodded stiffly, understanding that leaving was probably the most appropriate choice for her. It wasn't what I wanted. I wanted to stay right where we were, with Bella's hand on mine, and analyze what she'd brought out in me. I wanted to test whether she could do it again. I wanted understanding. I wasn't even above admitting I just wanted more - more contact, more opportunity, and hopefully more reaction, too. Though preferable, having all of my questions answered in one night wasn't possible, and Bella had been more than patient with me. I owed her a quick exit if she required one, but not without the next step.
"Would you like to get together tomorrow night?" I asked, my confidence wavering. Had my poor reaction caused the experiment irreparable damage?
"Sure," she accepted, smiling broadly. "Why don't you come to my house? I'll rent a movie for us."
"And I'll bring dinner." She'd done so much for me tonight. It was the least I could to repay her.
I walked her to the door, hesitating in the doorway until she'd driven off. Tomorrow I would have to be more prepared for her touch, but at least I knew better what to expect.
A/N: Are you ready to kill Edward? Do you think Bella needs a slap to the back of the head? What is going on with these two? Just click that review button and give me your opinions.
Author: Picklewinkle (ff.net)/JCAddict (LJ)
Characters/Pairing: Edward & Bella
Rating: M
Category: Drama/Angst/Romance
Spoilers: None
Summary: Edward Cullen is brilliant and complicated but also closed off and socially inept. Can Bella teach him how to tap into and understand his emotions through an unorthodox experiment without breaking her own heart in the process? AH.
Chapter 7: I Wanna Hold Your Hand
DISCLAIMER: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder of the words, plot and lackluster formatting belong to me.
Once again, Scorp112 and LightStarDusting, my wonderful and talented betas, have lent their brilliance to this chapter. At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I feel incredibly lucky to have their help and guidance.
Thank you to everyone who has been reading and reviewing. The story picked up a number of new readers with this last chapter. I'm not sure how you found the story but I'm glad to have you here.
Chapter 7: I Wanna Hold Your Hand
BPOV
It was Saturday, three in the afternoon, and I was still in bed. Edward was the first thing I thought of when I woke up, and I'd spent the better part of the last seven hours trying to figure out how to handle things with him. I'd been up and down every argument - both for and against his experiment - debated the pros and cons, and scrutinized every reason why I shouldn't do it. Though perfectly aware of the potential for disaster and the enormous obstacles that stood in front of me, it all came down to a single question: would I regret not taking the chance to get closer to Edward? And the answer was always the same - yes.
I'd had a crush on Edward from the moment we met on the playground. I was five years old the day Bobby Higgins pulled my ponytail and took my favorite hair ribbon. When I demanded he give it back to me, he shoved me down to the ground. Bobby was cruel and spiteful, so my tears didn't faze him a bit. He just laughed and called me a baby. Edward appeared out of nowhere, like a hero in waiting, all messy-haired and green-eyed. He helped me up, walked me to the office, and stayed with me until I stopped crying. He was kind, thoughtful and gentle - everything that Bobby wasn't. During the last recess that day, Edward brought me my satiny blue ribbon, his lip split and bleeding, but grinning in spite of himself. I kept that ribbon safely tucked away, and whenever I needed to feel like I mattered to someone in the world, I pulled it out and held it. He saved me that day, and a few times since.
It hurt when our friendship fell apart. I tried to apologize for what happened in the park and explain about my parent's divorce, but he wouldn't speak to me. Day after day, I attempted to tell him I was sorry, but each time I did, he'd tell me the same thing: We can't be friends; you're better off without me. His words never made sense to me. I needed his friendship more than I ever had before; it was the one thing I counted on to be the same in my life when everything else had changed. After a month of trying, Edward asked me to flat out leave him alone. He told me that he didn't want to be my friend. He told me that we had never been friends and never would be. It was the one time I needed him to save me that he didn't.
I watched helplessly from the sidelines as Edward pulled away from everyone, including me. He was absent from school for long periods of time. I never understood why, and there was no one I could ask for an explanation. At the time, it just made me miss him more. It made sense in hindsight, now that I knew about his father's death and his mother's job, but my heart still ached for him. He shouldn't have had to deal with his father's death alone. If only I'd known, I would have tried harder to get him to forgive me. Though there was nothing I could do to change what happened now, I still hated the way it made me feel.
The sane part of my brain recognized that Edward's experiment was outrageous. It was just the sort of thing I would expect from him, though. He didn't think the way most people did. The idea made sense to him, and that was as far as his brain questioned it. I knew that I was foolish for even considering his request, but I also knew that it might be my only chance to get close to Edward in a romantic sense. He was introverted and socially inhibited. He didn't relate well to his peers - girls especially. A tiny part of me, the same part that was saved by Edward all those years ago, held onto the hope that I could be something to him other girls couldn't. It was probably short-sighted of me to think that way; it was self-indulgent and pompous, if nothing else.
I wasn't deluding myself. I knew that if I took part in his experiment, I might as well be signing a contract for heartbreak. Edward was very clear about the fact that he wasn't looking for any kind of emotional attachment. I, on the other hand, had always felt an attachment to him. It began the moment he returned my ribbon to me, and that attachment would surely strengthen if our relationship became physical. As much as I wished to remain unaffected by him, it just wasn't in me to be unemotional. The question for me was whether or not the payoff of Edward's affection would be worth the pain.
It was rather ironic that Edward thought his offer was risk free; he was unknowingly ensuring my heartache with his plan. I wasn't blaming him. My feelings were my responsibility, and if I decided to take part in the experiment, the resulting heartache would be my responsibility, too. My reasons for considering Edward's plan might be screwed up, but my perspective was flawless. Having a mother who was absent by choice and a father who'd ruined his life waiting for her to come back had taught me to be accountable. It was too easy to blame someone else for the things we did to ourselves.
A part of me wondered what would happen if he knew what I felt for him. Would he reject me? Would he even enter into the experiment in the first place? In essence, my feelings for him nullified his entire hypothesis. Ours could never be a relationship without emotional complications. My emotions would affect every touch we would ever exchange. That's not to say that Edward couldn't remain unemotional; I was quite sure he could, and his ability to do just that would likely break my heart in the end.
So, if I moved forward with Edward, it would be with my eyes wide open and perhaps void of my sanity.
I forced myself out of bed and headed straight to the shower. If I was going to play Russian roulette with my heart, at least I could look good doing it. After washing my hair, I used the diffuser and finished it with the curling iron. The end result was a head full of tame, silky curls. In the back of my mind, I knew it was all in vain. Edward didn't notice things like pretty hair, but it was important to project a confident image, even if I was faking it on the inside. I dressed comfortably, in jeans and a long sleeve tee, and grabbed my hoodie on my way out the door.
I drove to the only Chinese restaurant in Forks. Something told me Edward wouldn't be impressed with chicken balls and fried rice, so I'd called in the day before and asked the owners for some food recommendations. They knew me well and didn't mind helping me plan the meal. After paying and leaving a generous tip to say thank you, I headed to Edward's house.
It was still early when I arrived, so I stayed in the car for a few minutes, thinking about the consequences of the choice I was about to make. As strange as Edward's idea was, I had to take the chance to be with him. It was what I'd always wanted. Deep down, I think I always knew I would do it; I just needed time to come to terms with my decision.
Just like every other experiment, ours needed a purpose, so we'd know what we were trying to accomplish and why. Edward's purpose was a safe sexual experience with someone he trusted that allowed him to learn proper technique through hands-on experience. His purpose supported his hypothesis - that satisfying sex was all technique and independent of emotions. I could help Edward test his hypothesis, but the purpose of the experiment was drastically different for me. I would be testing what I'd always felt for him, to see what it was capable of making me feel. I would be working against Edward's emotional independence - challenging him on an emotional level to remain detached from the experience - and daring myself not to fall in love with him.
Like Edward said, it was an opportunity to learn, and I would learn exactly what my heart was capable of.
~8~
EPOV
Bella arrived a few minutes early. I didn't understand why she stayed in her car instead of coming to the door. Was punctuality that important to her? When I finally saw her car door open, it set off a succession of feelings: first relief, then pleasure, and finally, acute anxiety. Much of my day was spent thinking about what to say and which angles to use to convince her to take part in the experiment. Now that the time had arrived, I wasn't at all sure I was going about things in the best way.
Waiting for Bella to ring the doorbell felt too formal, so I stood at the open door to greet her.
"Can I take the bag for you?" I asked, holding the door open for her. As she stepped inside, she handed me the bag and then shook the rain off of her umbrella.
"I've lived in Forks my whole life, but I'm still surprised by how often it rains in this place," she said, smiling at me and slipping out of her raincoat. As I reached for her coat, she slid the bag from my hand.
"I can take both," I assured her.
She shook her head and smirked, holding the bag to her chest. "Nope, my dinner, my rules. Just point me in the direction of the plates and sit your butt down."
I led her to the kitchen and opened the cupboard to show her the plates. She grabbed a couple and sat down at the island to unpack the bag. I got us some silverware and took the stool beside Bella.
"I brought Chinese, but not just any Chinese. I asked Mrs. Chan to make dim sum for us." She peered into the bag and pulled out a set of chopsticks wearing a big grin on her face. "You can't eat it with silverware. You've got to use chopsticks."
"A fork and knife are much simpler." I spun the fork between my fingers and smiled hopefully.
"Nonsense. It's easy once you get the hang of it." She demonstrated how to hold them correctly and then handed them to me. "You try."
I did my best to mimic the way she held the pair, but they felt clumsy in my hand. Bella took out another set and showed me again.
"You don't need to hold them so far down. I only do that because my hands are small. It's actually easier if you hold them further up." I made the adjustment but it wasn't enough for Bella's liking. "May I?" she asked, reaching for my hand so quickly that I barely had time to process the question. As if she knew I'd try to pull away from her, she gripped my fingers firmly and pulled the chopsticks further through them. "Like that," she told me. My attention stayed focused on the chopsticks in my grasp until I felt her index finger brush softly over my knuckles. "They're still not completely healed," she noted quietly.
My cheeks flushed almost instantly, although I wasn't sure if the cause was her observation or her touch. "I probably should have had stitches to close the cuts." I kept the fact that she'd suggested that very thing at the hospital to myself, not wanting to hear an I told you so. I hesitated for a moment before pulling my hand back from her. Bella rejected my retreat, extending her fingertips back to my knuckles.
"I heard around school that you actually broke his nose," she informed me, her finger tracing the dark marks on my skin. They were all that remained of my injury. My hand twitched, but she ignored it.
"It wasn't anything he didn't deserve." I knew I should feel remorseful, but I didn't. If anything, I felt justified. A right hook wasn't nearly enough retribution for what he'd done to Bella. Just thinking about it made me angry all over again. "Did you file charges against him?"
"No," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "It would have been impossible to prove it was him." She retracted her hand suddenly. "I'm sorry you were hurt." Her forlorn voice was heartbreaking. It made me hate Mike all the more. I ignored the urge to ask her to explain her decision. She was still upset by what happened, understandably, and I didn't want to make her re-live it.
"What did you bring for us to eat?" I asked, intentionally changing the subject. There was no way I was going to allow what happened with Mike to set the mood tonight.
"Oh, I forgot to ask if you have a teapot? I brought some tea to drink with dinner." She was already on her feet, awaiting my answer.
"Right there." I pointed to a cupboard on the far wall.
She breezed across the kitchen and opened the cupboard, her eyes carefully scanning the shelves. The teapot was too high for her to reach, but she pushed up onto her tiptoes and stretched for it anyway. The elongated pose of her body was very picturesque - graceful and elegant. There was something captivating about the gentle curve of her hip and the way she balanced her weight on one foot. She flattened her palm against the countertop and stretched even further, letting out a quiet grumble of frustration. I'd been so caught up in studying her body that it wasn't until that moment that I realized how rude I was being. I slid out of my seat to help her.
"Let me get that for you," I murmured, pulling the teapot off the shelf and handing it to her.
"No short jokes!" she ordered, shooting me a sideways glance.
"No short jokes," I promised. "If it was safer to stand on one of the stools, I would have offered one to you. They're just too unstable."
"Yeah, me standing on a swiveling seat could only end one way - badly." She smiled a thank you and made herself at home, moving around the kitchen in punctuated bursts, inquiring where things were as she went. After using a pot to boil water, she finished making the tea while we chatted about some of the food she'd ordered. I took out two teacups.
"Those are pretty."
"My mother's china. We don't use it very often." I honestly couldn't remember the last time we'd used it.
"Why not?" She pulled a potholder out of the drawer in front of her and carefully moved the hot teapot over to the island.
"It's reserved for special occasions," I explained. "And with my mother's schedule, we simply don't celebrate many holidays at home."
"Should we be using it then?" She looked at me with a curious expression.
"I don't think she'd mind. In fact, if she were here, she'd probably have pulled it out herself." My mother cherished the set and loved to show it off. Many of the pieces had been wedding gifts.
Bella nodded and then carefully poured the tea. The only sound in the room was the light chinking of the teapot against the cups.
"Your hands are shaking," I noted quietly, wondering what on earth would have her trembling.
"It's nerves," she muttered. "I don't want to damage your mom's china." She was trying to disguise something with her tone, but it wasn't nervousness.
Once she finished pouring the tea, she picked up one of the containers. "I think you'll like these spring rolls. They're simple, nothing exotic."
Bella put a spring roll on my plate. I stared at it in perturbation while I tried to figure out how I was going to cut it using chopsticks. Bella giggled and held her spring roll up so I could see that she simply picked it up whole. I copied her, lifting mine to my mouth, and took a bite. It was quite good, a mixture of shredded pork and vegetables, with a subtle seasoning and sweetness. While I ate, Bella explained the flavors.
"Are you allergic to seafood?" she asked, opening the next container.
"No, why?"
She put something battered and deep-fried on my plate with a single word of explanation. "Squid."
I turned my nose up at it. "That is disgusting."
"I know it looks a bit dicey, but the flavor isn't very strong," she promised, smiling at me encouragingly.
"It has legs." And probably tentacles. I didn't want to look too closely at it.
"So does a cow, and I don't hear you complaining about hamburgers." She raised one of her eyebrows in challenge and stared at me.
"I can't eat that." As much as I wanted my statement to sound convincing, it didn't. I could eat it. I just didn't want to.
"Stop being such a baby, and try one bite." She picked up a piece and waved it at me playfully.
I fumbled with the chopsticks, struggling to pick up the squid with them. Once I finally had a hold of it, I quickly popped it into my mouth before I could change my mind. The taste was relatively innocuous, just as Bella promised.
"It has a very chewy texture," I noted sourly.
"A little bit, but it's tasty, right?" Her enthusiasm was in direct opposition to my antipathy.
"Tasty is a strong word." A more apt adjective would have been nasty.
"You're a baby," she concluded, feeding herself another piece. "More for me."
I didn't argue with her label, especially since it meant she didn't expect me to eat more squid. She took her time eating a few more pieces before moving on to the next container.
"This is more seafood, but shrimp," she explained guardedly, glancing up at me while she held the container out so I could examine the contents.
"I like shrimp. They're much less threatening," I said with a smile.
"They're called 'har gau.'" She placed a dumpling on my plate and watched me as I picked it up and took a bite.
"These I like." The skin of the dumplings was very thin, and they were stuffed with a filling made from chopped shrimp. It was a perfect mélange of delicate flavors.
Next we tried a steamed bun filled with barbecued pork. It was the oddest combination of ingredients that made for a delicious treat. The last dish was sticky rice cooked in a lotus leaf. I could taste hints of scallops, chicken and mushrooms, and I liked the crunch from the water chestnuts. For dessert we had mango pudding and Chinese steamed sponge cake. The pudding was silky and loaded with large chunks of fresh mango. The sponge cake was moist and delectable, and its coconut milk icing secured my vote for favorite dish of the night.
I refilled our tea, preparing myself to broach the subject of the experiment. The evening had been very lighthearted, and I was I reluctant to put an end to the ease.
"So I was thinking about your experiment," Bella said, pausing to take a sip of her tea.
"What exactly were you thinking about?" As soon as I asked the question, I regretted it. I braced myself for the worst.
"Mostly about what I should do," she told me quietly. She kept her eyes down, her gaze stuck on the teacup in her hands.
"Did you decide?" I held my breath, apprehensive about her answer.
"Sort of, I guess… but I have questions."
Questions were good. At the very least, they weren't a refusal to take part. "About what?" I asked cautiously.
"Before I agree to anything, I have to know what I'm agreeing to. I don't have any idea what your expectations are."
I breathed a sigh of relief; my expectations were an easy topic. "I haven't come up with a specific plan. It was something I assumed we would formulate together. As far as expectations, my biggest concern is that we're both comfortable, and I think by moving slowly we can ensure that. I thought we should begin with something simple and progress only if and when we both agree we're ready."
Her eyes flickered to mine. "What do you mean by simple?" she asked, unable to mask the wary expression on her face.
"I mentioned hand-holding. It seems like an appropriate jumping off point." I wanted to start with something that was entirely non-threatening to both of us. More than that, I wanted something we couldn't fail at. Success would set a precedent, starting the experiment off on the right foot and giving us a reason to continue toward something more intimate.
"Hand-holding is certainly simple," she agreed.
"I realize the action is extremely puerile from your point of view, but I've never had the experience. Plus, I believe it will be a good exercise to build our comfort level. What we're embarking on requires a great deal physical intimacy, so we need to be comfortable in close proximity. That's going to take some practice."
"I don't think it's puerile; it's kind of sweet," she remarked.
The tender tone in her voice made me self-conscious. "I wasn't suggesting it to be sweet," I corrected sternly.
"I know. I didn't mean to sound condescending. I like the way you're looking at things. I guess a part of me was expecting it to be a big rush to the finish. In my experience, it's always been about how far a boy can get and how fast he can get there."
"I'm not looking to rush you into anything you're not ready for," I told her honestly. "Nor am I doing this to have something to brag about. What goes on between us is private, and I intend to keep it that way."
"Maybe that's where we start then, by agreeing that anything that happens between us stays between us." Her voice was almost circumspect. I appreciated that she seemed to be taking this seriously.
"Agreed. The details of our experiment and any interactions between us will remain confidential."
"And I like the idea of building our comfort level," she added supportively. "I think holding hands is a perfect place to begin."
"Do you think we should set out targets of intimacy before we begin, so we both understand the steps and are on the same page in terms of goals?" I had a rough idea of how we might accomplish our task but was still curious about what Bella thought. I was equally afraid of scaring her away by saying too much, as I was with not being specific enough and having mismatched expectations.
"I guess it would be good to know how we're going to get to our intended end." She seemed hesitant, almost as if she had something else in mind.
"Did you have a suggestion?" I prompted.
"This is your baby. I figured you had some plan of attack in mind." She chewed on her lip absentmindedly, waiting for me to speak.
"While we were running, you mentioned pornography. I realize it's not the most tasteful aid, but perhaps it might suggest some aspects of sex that we haven't thought of."
"You seriously want me to watch porn with you?" Bella cheeks were tinged with pink as she asked the question. I thought I could detect a note of disgust in her tone too.
"Just to be clear, I am by no means suggesting we mimic the acts themselves. I was thinking of it as a tool to generate ideas and help us determine an approach that suits both of us." It seemed logical to me, given our mutual lack of experience with sex.
"Kind of like everything I ever needed to know I learned by watching porn?" she asked, laughing nervously.
"Kind of, I guess." I tried to laugh at her joke, but it came out more like a demented huff. Bella's emotions were all over the map, and until she was sure about how she felt, there wasn't much I could do to ease her fears.
"I'm not sure I can watch it and ever look you in the eye again. Porn isn't made for women, let alone to be watched in the presence of a girl you have no romantic feelings for." She couldn't even raise her eyes to look at me while she admitted her aversion, and I couldn't tell whether she was embarrassed or disgusted.
"There is no need to feel awkward about watching with me, Bella. It's just another step in the process. Pornography is made to arouse the mind. The brain is the largest sexual organ in the human body."
"Pornography may arouse the mind, but I think it's intended to arouse something else," she spat sarcastically, covering her face with her hand for a moment. Maybe it was both embarrassment and disgust. "It's just too much too fast, at least for me. Maybe for tonight we could leave the experiment at the holding hands step."
I was about to agree when she unexpectedly reached across the counter and covered my hand with hers. I instantly stiffened. She tried to mask her panic when her eyes darted to mine but wasn't able to completely eliminate it from her expression.
My reaction was wrong, diametrically opposite to how I should have responded, especially given what I was asking of Bella with my experiment. Not to mention, I liked her touch, at least I liked the touch of her lips to mine. Her kiss was why she sat in my kitchen tonight. The way the touch of her hand had made me feel - alarm that made me subconsciously recoil - felt nothing like her kiss.
I couldn't think of anything sensible to say, despite how the situation screamed for elucidation. My reaction made no sense. I didn't understand it and therefore couldn't explain it. Bella stared down at the counter and off into space, looking anywhere but at me. It was a wonder she hadn't slugged me. I would have deserved it if she had. Maybe the silence was her way of theoretically punching me, forcing me to deal with the aftermath of my behavior alone. I selfishly wished she'd smooth things over between us. She was so much better at it than I was.
I was tongue-tied and so entirely paralyzed that all I could do was stare down at our hands. As I looked at them, it hit me that she hadn't pulled her hand away yet, even with my unacceptable reaction. It was still resting softly on mine. I stared at her hand in amazement. As if my body were on delay, I felt its warmth spreading across my skin. I concentrated and finally registered the sparkling of energy between her hand and mine. The tingling was sort of like the volume on a radio being slowly turned up, becoming stronger with each second.
I was sure she'd pull away any moment. It would have been the appropriate action given my lack of response, but she didn't. From the corner of my eye, I could see her staring at me, probably waiting for me to turn to her. I didn't. I just looked at our hands and braced myself for it to be over.
But it didn't end. So I didn't move, and neither did she.
I lost track of time as we sat there. My hand eventually relaxed, but every cell in my body was vibrating on high in preparation for Bella's withdrawal. I wasn't anticipating the gentle caress of her thumb as it brushed across my skin. The rush it caused in me was astounding - like it was the something I needed but didn't know existed. It sent a shiver through me, a wave of coolness that rippled over my entire body and forced my relaxation. It was illogical that one small stroke of her finger could be so powerful, that it could leave me wanting more of the same - more of anything.
I persisted in my suspended state. I didn't know what to do to encourage her, nor did I wish to discourage her with the wrong action. I was afraid to even look in her direction and risk inciting questions I didn't know the answers to. I was inept, completely lacking in the simple skills I needed to interact positively with Bella, and the idea of simply asking for more left me feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. I waited anxiously, willing the movement of her fingers across my skin in vain. Her hand remained stubbornly still.
The more time that passed, the more I wanted to know what she was thinking. I glanced at her, only moving my eyes in her direction, and could see the look of quiet determination on her face. We were deadlocked, so I did the only thing I knew to break it and granted her the eye contact she was seeking. She smiled demurely. I barely heard the words that left her lips, focused instead on the slow movement of her fingers as they slipped across my skin.
"I have to go," she said softly.
I nodded stiffly, understanding that leaving was probably the most appropriate choice for her. It wasn't what I wanted. I wanted to stay right where we were, with Bella's hand on mine, and analyze what she'd brought out in me. I wanted to test whether she could do it again. I wanted understanding. I wasn't even above admitting I just wanted more - more contact, more opportunity, and hopefully more reaction, too. Though preferable, having all of my questions answered in one night wasn't possible, and Bella had been more than patient with me. I owed her a quick exit if she required one, but not without the next step.
"Would you like to get together tomorrow night?" I asked, my confidence wavering. Had my poor reaction caused the experiment irreparable damage?
"Sure," she accepted, smiling broadly. "Why don't you come to my house? I'll rent a movie for us."
"And I'll bring dinner." She'd done so much for me tonight. It was the least I could to repay her.
I walked her to the door, hesitating in the doorway until she'd driven off. Tomorrow I would have to be more prepared for her touch, but at least I knew better what to expect.
A/N: Are you ready to kill Edward? Do you think Bella needs a slap to the back of the head? What is going on with these two? Just click that review button and give me your opinions.