The Emotional Education of Edward Cullen - Chapter 8
Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7.
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 8: I Think You'd Be Happy If I Was Never In My Comfort Zone
DISCLAIMER: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder of the words, plot and lackluster formatting belong to me. Please do not re-post the story without authorization.
My sincerest apologies for the time between updates. The fault is completely mine. The busy holiday season kept me from getting the story to my betas in a timely fashion.
A huge thank-you to Scorp112 and LightStarDusting for all of their input and awesome beta skills. I added to the chapter after they looked at it, so all mistakes are mine.
Lastly, thanks to everyone who is reading and reviewing. I love hearing from you guys. It's wonderful to be able to discuss the story with people.
Chapter 8: I Think You'd Be Happy If I Was Never In My Comfort Zone
BPOV
It would have taken Edward forever to make the first move, so I took the bull by the horns and jumped in with both feet. I knew he wasn't expecting me to hold his hand, but I had no idea it would fluster him so badly. He looked almost pained he was so uncomfortable with the physical contact, and that reaction was the exact reason I doubted his ability to function in our experiment, why I'd questioned it to start with.
Every instinct I had told me to pull my hand away when he flinched, but I listened to my heart instead. Deep down, I knew he was just as afraid as I was, even if it was for a different reason. Besides, if I had pulled away, fear of rejection would have prevented me from ever trying to touch him again. Showing him that his quirks didn't get to me was important. I wanted him to know he was safe to be himself around me, even when his reaction was nonsensical or inappropriate. Leaving my hand on his was the only way I could think of to show him that I was committed to finding a way to make things between us work. So, I couldn't pull away until he was comfortable. I just didn't have any idea that his comfort level was so far out of whack.
Thirty-seven minutes. That's how long it took him to relax. Twenty-two minutes for his hand to loosen up, and another fifteen minutes for him to look me in the eye. Talk about a boy too caught up in his own head! Even with all that time to mull things over, I don't think he understood what I was doing. His eyes were a brilliant, blazing green when they met mine - full of confusion and upset. I would have given almost anything to know what he was thinking, but it would have very likely blown up in my face if I had put him on the spot. Edward had a hair-trigger when it came to his ability to operate outside of his comfort zone. If I had pressed him for answers, he probably would have shut down completely, and that would have gotten me nowhere fast.
I couldn't resist wondering about Edward's reaction in that insane, masochistic way all girls do when it comes to figuring out the mind of a guy they have feelings for. Admittedly, I was the queen of reading too much into things, and I swore to myself I wouldn't do it with him, but the situation begged the question: How could an almost eighteen-year-old guy never have even held someone's hand? I'd seen so many girls at school throw themselves at him. Was he never even tempted? I wasn't thinking in terms of a relationship per se, but when pretty girls are offering free samples, why wouldn't he be like every other guy and take them up on it? Then again, if how he reacted to my hand was indicative of how he reacted in any situation with the opposite sex, then his lack of experience was completely understandable.
He probably didn't even know the power he wielded just in being Edward Cullen. Off the top of my head, I could think of a dozen girls that were interested in him. One flick of that bronze-haired head and he could have anyone he wanted. Edward's appeal went beyond his good looks. He was intelligent, kind and a tiny bit mysterious. He was the sort of guy you daydreamed about when you were a little girl, the one you planned on living happily ever after with. At least, in theory, he was. In practice, his aloofness and irritatingly logical thought processes made getting to know the real Edward a challenging and potentially complicated operation. It was the one advantage I had over most everyone else. I'd gotten to know him before his father's death changed him, and I knew there was more to him than the isolated, detached person he'd become. He might not be that same boy that was once my friend, but all the makings of that boy were still there. I just had to wade through the awkwardness and discomfort to get to them.
As silly as it sounded, I still missed the person I once knew so well that I could finish his sentences. Life after Edward wasn't the same. I wasn't the same. My parent's divorce left me confused and alone. Edward's absence only compounded those feelings. I was helpless to alter either situation, so I did the only thing I could do: I impatiently waited for something to change. While I waited, I watched - everything and everyone - including Edward. I kept my distance from him, faithfully respectful of his request to be left alone. He may not have wanted to be my friend, but I still cared about him and wanted to understand what was going on with him. Ultimately, watching became a habit - part of who I was - and Edward was a piece of the praxis. My comprehension of him was still incomplete, even after years of observation, but I was probably the closet thing to an Edward-Cullen-expert that existed.
Navigating the ebb and flow of interactions between us would be no small feat. Patience could only take me so far. I had to learn to think like Edward to avoid misunderstandings. There was no stopping my emotions, but I needed to do everything I could to keep them in check. If I let my guard down, it would be too easy to show him how much I cared. Edward would be totally overwhelmed by what I felt for him, and that would fuck up everything between us. I needed to keep my feelings hidden and focus on projecting the qualities that he needed to feel comfortable. On the outside, I would be patient and cooperative, allowing him some space to work through his issues. On the inside, I'd feel every touch and emotion, both positive and negative, and truthfully, I didn't want it any other way.
For so long, all I could do was hope that he'd be a part of my life again, and I certainly never thought I'd have the chance to become more than friends with him. This was my once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to reach out to him. No one had ever made me feel as safe and protected as he had the day he got my ribbon back for me. I wanted to return the gesture, to show him how deeply I cared for him and that I accepted him for who he was. I wasn't looking for a fairytale or a white knight. I wanted the real Edward - the good, the bad and everything in between. It didn't matter to me that the relationship we were creating was imaginary. Everything he would make me feel during our experiment would be real, even if we weren't. And maybe, if I gave him the best of me, he might remember the way he used to feel for me. I knew it was a long shot, but it was all I had. I was willing to risk my heart for a chance at his.
I was at a loss as I stared at the huge wall of DVDs at the video rental store. I had no clue what sort of movie Edward would like to watch. Dark comedy? Mystery? Suspense thriller? I would have preferred a romantic comedy to keep the evening buoyant, but something told me that a chick flick would only make Edward more uncomfortable. I wanted the night to be as easy going as possible, so I choose a thriller and a partly biographical war drama, hoping that one or the other would suffice.
After our bumpy attempt at hand-holding the prior night, it was important to make sure that Edward felt comfortable around me. That meant keeping the mood light and giving him some breathing space. I couldn't let myself stare at him, force him to talk to me, or pressure him in any way. Most especially, I had to keep my hands to myself. I'd made it clear last night that the experiment was under way. Edward would have to decide the next move on his own agenda.
My dad was working, so we had the house to ourselves all night. Truthfully, I was glad for the privacy. I didn't want him to know about Edward. He'd only tease me, or worse, pull some sort of over-protective father crap. We were all better off if Charlie was in the dark for as long as possible. It was none of his business anyway.
I made brownies to accompany the dinner that Edward was bringing. While they were baking, I found vanilla ice cream in the freezer and decided brownie sundaes were in order. Thirty minutes later, with homemade hot fudge sauce and whipped cream in my arsenal, my plan of attack was complete. If the way to a man's heart was through his stomach, then my bases were covered, and I would have some comfort food to fall back on if the night was a bust in every other way. Ice cream never ceased to make me feel better. Maybe it would do the same for Edward.
After I cleaned up the kitchen and living room, I headed upstairs to shower and change. The air was humid and unseasonably warm, so I opted for function over form, knowing what I wore would have no effect Edward. I didn't even bother to dry my hair. I just twisted it up off my neck with a clip. Wearing my hair up always made me feel pretty and sometimes, like today, kind of sexy. Though the hair itself might be lost on Edward, I hoped the way I was feeling would have some subtle effect on him. Edward was getting the classic version of Saturday-night-movie-watching Bella - laid-back, indulgent and a tiny bit audacious.
The awkwardness of last night's encounter felt a million light years away. I was actually excited for our night together by the time I heard the doorbell ring. I reminded myself to keep the night light as I made my way downstairs.
~8~
EPOV
I drove to Port Angeles to pick up dinner. Bella had found the only interesting takeout in all of Forks, and I wanted to one up her, or at least try. I had an ulterior motive for choosing the meal that I was bringing, but I hadn't decided if I would share it with her yet.
The two hours of driving did me good. For whatever reason, when I got behind the wheel, my whole body relaxed like I was in some kind of vehicular decompression chamber. The stereo probably helped too, the louder the better. The cabin of the Volvo had excellent acoustics, and I tested them every time I took the car out by myself.
As I drove, my mind wandered but always came back to what happened with Bella. I felt like an ass when I replayed the events as I tried to fall asleep last night. I'd hurt her feelings when I stiffened at her touch; I'd seen the look on her face. I'm sure it made Bella doubt my commitment to the experiment, and why wouldn't it? My reaction was ridiculous. It wasn't representative of the way she made me feel - at least I didn't think it was - but I'd be the first to admit that I didn't understand what was going on inside of me.
She had every right to be angry with me for the way I reacted. Yet, despite my atrocious reaction, her hand never faltered. I still couldn't reason why she didn't pull it away. The patience she exhibited was exceptional, certainly more than the average person, and probably more than I deserved, given my faux pas. I felt both relieved and panicked after she left. The panic I understood. I would have preferred a second chance to react more appropriately before the night ended. The relief, however, confused me. It wasn't until much later that I connected it with the intentionality of her actions. It boded well for the experiment if that was the sort of composure and diligence she always put forth.
Our reactions were so confounding - both mine to her and hers to me. I found it perplexing that her kiss could cause me to feel one way, while her touch, a completely other way. The confusion stripped me of my confidence to the point that I was uncomfortable trusting my own instincts. It made no sense to me that I would feel panicked when she reached out for my hand, that it unsettled me so deeply that I couldn't get my wits about me. Surely attraction had a more positive effect than that on a person. Logically, that meant what I was feeling was not attraction, but that didn't explain the rush brought on by the sweep of her thumb across my skin. It was a more localized reaction than the bodily effect of her lips on mine, but my emotional response was more extreme, too. Maybe the emotion was just a result of relief that the caress didn't cause panic. Without more exposure to her touch, I would never know if my reaction was normal or a fluke.
Regardless of my confusion, I knew that I needed to do something to reassure Bella that she did not make the wrong choice to take part in the experiment. I wanted to make some kind of gesture, to go out on a limb to show her that my efforts were as invested as hers were. It didn't have to be grand, but it did have to be clear. I made a conscious effort to let go of my negativity with regard to the way I'd reacted when she touched me. In the grand scheme of things, it probably didn't matter, and even if it did, I couldn't take it back or change it in any way. To me, it made more sense to chalk it up to inexperience and being caught off guard, so we could put the awkwardness behind us. Besides, as pathetic as the notion was, I couldn't think of another explanation that made more sense.
I was exceedingly relaxed by the time I knocked on Bella's door. She opened it a moment later, smiling from ear to ear, and invited me in with a wave of her hand. She took my jacket and gave me a quick tour of her house. When she showed me the kitchen, I took the opportunity to re-warm dinner in the microwave.
"I figured we'd eat in the living room, if that's okay with you?" she asked. I nodded my agreement and followed her lead. She had two places already set out on the coffee table for us. "So what did you bring for dinner?"
"It's a surprise. I drove to Port Angeles to get it." I held up the bag so she could see it.
"Well it can't be anything too risky, or you wouldn't eat it," she decided, laughing.
"I ate your squid." Despite what she thought, I was quite proud of myself for trying every single thing she'd brought.
"One bite hardly counts as eating. It's barely a sample." Her smirk was playful. It was clear that she enjoyed teasing me.
"Regardless, tonight it's your turn to move out of your comfort zone," I declared boastfully. She laughed loudly and then covered her mouth with her hand. "What's so funny?"
"I'm pretty sure you were never in your comfort zone last night." Her statement was more of an affirmation than an allegation. As usual, her perception of me was dead on. It was disheartening that she saw me more clearly than I saw myself.
"Did you want to talk about what happened?" I asked resignedly, taking a seat on the couch.
"Only if you do." She shrugged noncommittally at me.
"I'm good… as long as you are?" I asked, unable to mask my disbelief. I was sure she'd want to discuss my reaction. Plus, if she had any concerns, it was better to get them out in the open.
"I'm good," she echoed with a smile. The honesty in her expression washed away my lingering doubts about the night before. For whatever reason, Bella was choosing to disregard my poor behavior. It was a comforting to know she wasn't going to dissect every single interaction between us. While a certain amount of reflection was required by the parameters of our experiment, deliberating over every detail would bog us down and choke our progress.
Bella sat down on the floor beside my feet. It struck me as a very odd thing to do, and my curiosity exploded. "Why are you sitting down there?"
She looked over her shoulder at me and giggled. "It's a long standing thing with my dad and me. I used to bug him to eat in the living room all the time. He would let me as long as I sat on the floor. Now it just feels weird to eat on the couch."
How strange, not to mention illogical. I didn't even try to hide my derision. "You do realize how ridiculous that sounds, don't you?"
"Don't be so close-minded," she chided playfully. "I like it down here, and I'm not making you sit down here with me…not that it would hurt you one little bit to try something new."
"Sitting on the floor is hardly new to me, Bella. I sat on the carpet in kindergarten just like everyone else."
"Did you seriously just compare me to a five-year-old?" She shot me a slightly annoyed glare. Though it was mostly in jest, I found her irritation amusing.
"You are sitting with your legs crossed the way Mrs. Smith used to make us do," I pointed out, biting my lip to keep from smirking at her.
"Get your ass down here with me," she demanded. "It would do your smug behind some good to get in touch with your five-year-old self."
She reached for my hand and tried to jerk my weight in her direction. I resisted, locking my arms and planting my feet so she couldn't move me, knowing it would only goad her to try again. "I think you'd be happy if I was never in my comfort zone."
"I don't like to see you limit yourself by never trying new things," she explained. Using both hands this time, she pulled me to the edge of the couch.
"We've already established that sitting on the floor is not a new thing," I countered, chuckling. I knew I was being cheeky. She made it easy with her wide smiles and laughing eyes.
"You haven't sat criss-cross-applesauce in almost thirteen years, so you're out of practice. It will be like the first time." Her hands tugged me one last time, and I gave up the fight, letting her pull me down.
"Touché," I replied, settling down on the floor beside her. I began to unpack dinner, making room for the containers on the table before I opened them.
"It smells delicious," Bella noted. "What is it?"
"Moroccan. Start with these," I suggested, pointing at the briouat. Anxious for her reaction, I watched as she tentatively took one and raised it to her mouth to take a bite.
"It is delicious! The dough is so crispy." She covered her mouth while she spoke, smiling as she attempted to hide her embarrassment for speaking with her mouth full.
"I'm glad you like it. They are one of my favorite things to eat." I took one for myself but ate very little, caught up in observing Bella's enjoyment of the pastry. I tried very hard not to stare, but her manner was engrossing.
"I've never had Moroccan food before."
"I'd be surprised if many people in Forks had." Forks wasn't exactly a mecca for international cuisine.
"Do you eat it often?" She peeked over at me with curious eyes as she brought the deep-fried triangle up to her mouth.
"Not so often anymore." Not for a long time actually. A very long time.
"Why not?" She took another bite, chewing thoughtfully as she waited for my answer.
I wasn't ready to tell her why but couldn't think of an appropriate substitute for the truth. Her expectant gaze made me feel nervous, and my fingers involuntarily picked at the pastry in front of me.
"Although I'm sure the hour's drive to the nearest Moroccan place would deter anyone," she suggested. When I looked over at her, I could see the understanding in her eyes. She knew I didn't wish to explain further. "What's next?" she asked enthusiastically.
"There's bread," I told her, pointing to the khoubz. "You can have some of that while I fix your food." I made a bed of couscous on her plate and then spooned the tagine over it. "Before you try this, you have to close your eyes."
"Why?"
"Just trust me," I urged.
"You're not going to do anything gross are you?"
"Define gross." I had to bite my lip to keep from smirking. Sometimes she could be such a girl.
"Like making me eat a bug or something disgusting like that?" She grimaced at the thought. I couldn't blame her.
"No, Bella. I'm not cruel. Now, close your eyes." I waited patiently for her to give in to my request, and when she finally closed her eyes, I filled a fork with some lamb and held it up to her mouth. "Take a bite, but make sure you keep your eyes closed."
"You haven't told me why I have to keep my eyes closed," she complained.
"You'll understand in a minute."
She cautiously opened her mouth, so I moved the fork closer, hesitating as her lips caught my attention. Had they always been so pink and full? She took the food into her mouth and chewed slowly, leaving her eyes closed, like I asked.
"Cumin…and cinnamon." Her words were more of a question than a statement, but it was exactly the response I wanted from her.
"Yes. What else?" I couldn't help but smile. She always seemed to understand what my point was, even when I didn't make it obvious.
"There's a hint of citrus that I can't place, and a tiny bit of spice."
"It's cardamom, and the heat comes from cayenne pepper."
She pursed her lips, contemplating the flavors. "Nope, it's not the cayenne that I'm tasting. It's more subtle…fresh ginger maybe?"
"Very good."
"And honey. The sweetness is honey," she stated decidedly.
I was still smiling when she opened her eyes. "Did you like it?"
"Very much. I've never tried anything like it before. It's earthy and comforting."
"You were very good at picking out the spices," I praised, spurred by her enthusiasm.
"Isn't that what you wanted me to do?"
"Yes, but I didn't think you'd be able to do it."
"So you underestimated me?" she accused with a smug grin.
"I guess I did. The spices in the dish are rather unusual." I ran my hand through my hair, trying to fend off the sudden rush of self-consciousness. "How did you know what I wanted you to do? That's impressive. It doesn't happen for me very often."
"What doesn't happen very often? You being impressed?" She bit her lip, trying but failing to stop her smirk.
"Someone figuring out what I want without me being very specific," I explained. People rarely took the time to understand the things I asked.
"I'm getting better at thinking like you," she said proudly.
"It's more than that, I think." I looked away, unable to meet her probing gaze. She seemed to see everything, even the things I tried to hide. It was a wonder she hadn't already guessed my motivation for suggesting a physical relationship. "We seem to work quite well together. That will help our experiment, don't you think?"
"If it's true, then it will. I haven't decided if we do or not." Obviously, Bella still had reservations about the experiment. It was up to me to find a way to strengthen her resolve.
The rest of our dinner conversation fell short, consisting solely of polite chitchat about the food. I was depending on Bella to keep the conversation flowing, and she was unusually uncommunicative. She seemed to enjoy the meal though, thanking me numerous times for going out of my way to bring it. To me, it was nothing more than returning the favor, and her gratitude seemed excessive, her focus on the intention of my actions out of place. I helped Bella clear the dishes so we could get the movie started and move beyond the awkward pauses in conversation.
"I didn't bring dessert. Nothing at the restaurant seemed appropriate. I find most Moroccan desserts too sweet," I confessed.
"That's okay. I made something. Go have a seat, and I'll bring it in."
While I waited for Bella, I set up the DVD player. The thriller seemed like the more promising of the two movies she'd rented, so I put it in first. She returned a few minutes later with a tray. She put a cup of coffee and a bowl down in front of me.
"You made that?" I blurted in surprise. "It looks like something a chef would prepare."
"One of these days you're going to learn that I'm more than just a pretty face," she teased.
"I didn't mean it that way."
"I know. Go ahead and try it. I promise it's good." She smiled at me, waiting and watching me the same way I had done earlier with her. I dug the spoon in and scooped out a little bit of everything in the bowl.
"Wow, that's good," I mumbled, my mouth still full of the delicious blend of rich chocolate and light vanilla sweetness.
"Told you so." Bella giggled in satisfaction and plopped down beside me on the floor. She looked happy as she sampled a big spoonful of her sundae. I followed suit, taking another bite and tumbling back into chocolate bliss.
"So good," I murmured, more to myself than to her, but it made Bella's smile even bigger.
I stretched my legs out in front of me and let the couch support my weight while I finished my dessert. The movie was interesting enough but only held my attention in spurts. Bella's house was much less formal than mine, and the laid-back atmosphere had a positive effect on me. Even with Bella sitting quite close to me, I wasn't the least bit uncomfortable with the proximity of our bodies. If anything, it added to my distracted state, almost as if the closeness demanded my awareness, because every movement from her direction caught my attention.
Bella was intensely focused on the movie, her legs pulled into her body with her arms wrapped around them. It gave me ample time to observe her. Her hair was pulled up off her neck with some sort of clip. I studied the way it was twisted, trying to figure out how the contraption worked, but it was a mystery to me. The style definitely showed off Bella's assets. Her neck was beautifully long and slender. The way the loose tendrils fell away from the rest of her hair was appealing - the dark strands deeply contrasted against her pale skin. My eyes traced the path of the curls across her shoulders, which were bare except for the tiny strap of the purple tank top that she wore. So much exposed skin, more than I could remember seeing on her before. I wondered which was softer, her skin or the hair that laid on it. As if she could sense me staring or knew the direction of my thoughts, she shuddered and turned to look at me. I smiled at her and hoped she hadn't caught me studying her.
"Is it just me, or is it kind of warm in here?" she whispered, running her hand along the very part of her neck that I had been staring at. I had to clear my throat to keep from laughing at the irony.
"A little," I concurred.
The truth was that I was quite hot and very overdressed for the unseasonably warm evening. I peeled off my plaid shirt, in hopes of cooling down, and laid it on the couch behind us. As I reached around the back of Bella, I realized I simply had to stretch my fingertips a small amount and they would make contact with the skin at the nape of her neck. It was exceptionally tempting, and the easiness of the gesture made it all the more appealing. Perhaps this was the way I could make up for my stupidity last night - by making the first move. For a moment, the awkwardness paralyzed me. What if she didn't want me to touch her? She hadn't given me her permission. Deep down, I knew I had to break through my own self-consciousness and doubts. If my touch made her uncomfortable, then we'd have to discuss it. I moved my hand forward, deliberately ignoring the reservations in my head.
My fingers brushed lightly along her cool skin, a pleasant contrast to the heat of my body. She shifted back toward my hand a small amount in response. I took it as a positive sign and continued. My hand fumbled across her shoulders unskillfully. The movie was only background noise now. Instead, I studied Bella's neck and marveled that the situation was even happening. Touching her was as natural as I imagined it should have been, and much more comfortable than I anticipated. My fingers eventually found their way around to her collarbone. She shivered when I touched her there - goose bumps erupted on her skin instantly, and her head tilted to one side. There was something so alluring about her reaction, something powerful and feminine - it had to be meaningful. I tried to memorize it in detail so I could recall it later and think about it. I wanted to remember how she reacted so I would know the next time I touched her in a way that pleased her.
I stilled my hand and left it resting on her shoulder. It was hard to keep from fidgeting. There was a part of me that wanted to explore Bella's skin further to see if I could make her react to my touch again, but I was apprehensive about going too far, too fast. I didn't trust myself to react properly yet, and I wasn't sure how quickly Bella wanted to move. I needed her consent to continue, some sort of signal that would make it clear that she was comfortable; even something subtle would do. Asking her directly might disrupt the ease between us, and I wasn't feeling terribly confident in my instincts. Did I want to draw attention to that fact?
I stared at Bella, scrutinizing the changes in her expression, looking for any sign of her assent. Every response I noticed seemed to be in reaction to the movie. After several minutes, I knew I had to suck it up and ask her. Not only did our experiment depend on open communication, no amount of wishing was going to make her respond. I leaned toward her body and spoke softly against her ear.
"Is this okay?" I couldn't have felt more inexperienced and juvenile if I tried. I was glad the room was dark so she couldn't see the discomfort on my face.
"Mmm-hmm," she hummed, sliding closer to me, letting her body rest against my side. In that single simple gesture, she relieved me of all my turmoil. I was a little in awe of her instinct; she just seemed to innately know what others needed, or at least she did when it came to me.
We really did make a good team, even if Bella hadn't realized it yet, and she only reinforced my belief during the climax of the movie. Bella turned her head into my chest when the scene became too much for her. The fact that she could turn to me for consolation spoke volumes about her comfort level. She knew she could count on me, and I felt the same way about her. It was exactly what I wanted from our partnership - a natural synergy based not on dependence but cognition and procedure, where every action was purposeful and met with a corresponding reaction, where each step was logical and predictable, no surprises, no deviations.
The movie ended in an emotional flourish that made little sense to me since I hadn't paid close attention to the story, but Bella's reaction was fascinating. What began as a stray tear culminated in an uncontrollable outpouring of grief - silent sobs shook her shoulders and streams of liquid sorrow stained her cheeks. It was as if she were the heroine in the story that had endured the hardships and loss. Her empathy was astounding.
She quietly excused herself when the credits began to roll and headed for the bathroom. I switched the first movie for the second and waited for her to return.
"Sorry about that," she mumbled when she came back into the room. Her eyes darted around the room nervously, looking everywhere but at me.
"It's not a big deal," I assured her.
She grimaced and shook her head in disagreement. "I know that you didn't sign up for all this emotional bullshit… that it makes you… uncomfortable. It won't happen again."
"I don't mind," I told her quietly. "The fact that you can empathize so strongly with another person is quite extraordinary. You shouldn't be ashamed of one of your greatest personality strengths."
"I don't think blubbering like an idiot is of much use as a character trait." For someone with such a keen perception, she didn't see herself very clearly.
"I don't know another person who sees the world quite like you do. You don't-"
She cut me off. "That's probably a good thing."
"Not really. In fact, it's kind of a shame. If more people could be kind like you…" I struggled to find the right words. "… And see past the little things that they obsess over, well, the world would be a better place." She had limitless acceptance. I wanted her to realize how easy it was for people to be themselves around her because of it. She blushed instantly under my compliment, her self-consciousness racing across her cheeks in a flood of ruby color. I didn't mean to make her feel embarrassed so I changed the subject. "I set up the next movie, if you're ready to watch it?"
"Sure." She took a seat on the couch instead of the floor.
"We aren't sitting on the floor any longer?"
"You can sit wherever you'd like," she said, her tone suddenly much cooler.
When I sat down next to Bella, she shifted to the far end of the couch. While I was glad for the opportunity to sit on something softer than the floor, I felt like I'd been relegated back to step one with her. My compliment had definitely shifted the dynamic between us. As the movie began, I made a conscious effort to get back the connection we'd shared during the first movie. I positioned my arm on the back of the couch and let my fingers casually rest against her shoulder. When she didn't react, I turned my body toward hers and leaned in closer to her, giving her my complete attention in an effort to show her my willingness. She ignored me. I could see she was visibly uncomfortable, rigid, and unemotional - very unlike herself. The contentment from earlier was gone, and I missed it. I didn't want the night to end, but I didn't want to prolong her discomfort, either.
"Do you want to just call it a night?" I asked in a low voice.
"Do you?" The defensive edge in her tone made it feel like she was daring me to make my choice, as if she'd made up her mind how I would respond and was waiting for me to prove her right.
"I admit I don't understand why you're upset with me. My compliment certainly wasn't intended to make you angry. Either way, if you'd rather I went home so you can be by yourself, I will respect your wishes."
"Is that what you want?" she asked, looking up at me. The anger had completely vanished from her voice. She seemed almost reluctant now, and there was vulnerability in her eyes, as if I'd wounded her in some way.
"I've done something to upset you." I felt like an idiot stating the obvious, but I had no idea what to do.
"So you do want to go home…" she whispered shamefully. That emotion seemed so misplaced that it confused me.
"I didn't say that. I'm trying to figure out what you want." I was only a step away from exasperated - completely and utterly lost.
"If you want to go home, that's okay." I was hurting her; I could hear it in her voice. It made zero sense to me.
"Hold on. This isn't working. We both need to stop deciding what the other person wants because all we're doing is frustrating one another. To answer your question: no, I don't want to go home. I'm enjoying my time with you. But if I pushed you too far, I'll be happy to bring our evening to a close. I don't wish to prolong any upset you might be feeling."
"I'm sorry if my behavior made you uncomfortable. I would totally understand if you wanted to get out of here."
With my verbal request being ignored, I had the urge to clamp my hand over her mouth to make her stop talking. I resisted, understanding the childishness of the desire, but my palm twitched anxiously. "I've already said that I don't want to. Do you want me to go?" My voice was far more demanding than I intended it to be, but better that than the petulance and anger that I was fighting to control.
"No," she whispered.
"Then I'll stay." My reply was curt. These sorts of disagreements were exactly the reason I had so few friends. I didn't do well with frustration.
Bella covered her face with her hands and laughed. "You must think I'm insane."
"No," I told her, laughing in spite of my irritation, thankful that the heaviness of the mood seemed to be lifting. "But I'll do my best to be prepared for your reaction next time."
She quirked one of her eyebrows at me. "Not everything can be predicted, Edward. If you want to understand how a woman's mind works then you need to accept rule number one: we are unpredictable creatures."
"Women are certainly more capricious than men," I allowed, "but not entirely unpredictable. One only needs to pay close attention to learn a woman's patterns. That should make it easy enough to predict her behavior."
"Sorry to break it to you, but women are perpetually unpredictable. In the same situation, no two women are going to react the same way, and even the same woman could react differently. It's dependant on so many things."
"That seems improbable, Bella."
"That seems improbable," she repeated in a mocking tone. "Then you were expecting this?"
Bella brought her leg up, and before I understood the motion, she'd stretched it across my body so she was straddling my legs. The closeness of her body was enough to throw me for a loop, but it was her warmth that set me reeling. I suddenly felt like I had no control - not over the situation or myself - and I was instantly defensive.
"No, of course not. We were having a conversation. Why would I be expecting you to climb on to my lap? You're purposely being erratic."
"That's my point, Edward."
"There's a point to this?" I challenged, my irritation flaring. I tried to slow down the thoughts whirling around in my mind. What I had originally thought was awkwardness had morphed into something even more uncomfortable - arousal. She was manipulating me. That shouldn't turn me on.
"Yes, there's a point, and you should know what it is, if I'm predictable." Her eyes held mine captive. She moved her body closer to mine with deliberate slowness, making her intention to convince me more than clear.
"I never said I could predict your behavior. I was speaking hypothetically." I was backpedaling, trying to avoid being further ensnared in her trap. It irked me that I couldn't seem to resist her even though I was fully aware it was all a ploy.
"Fine, then apply your hypothesis to me." The warm breath of her whisper tickled my face. I fought back a shiver.
"Just make your point," I demanded in a raspy voice. My lungs struggled to work, seemingly unable to take in enough air to function properly. I couldn't tell if I was coming or going, drifting somewhere between annoyance and lust. I didn't like her game; it was too controlling, but I'd never wanted to kiss a woman so much in my life.
"You can't tell what I want?" she murmured, the tiniest hint of a pout on her lips. She pressed her thighs into mine and held them there. "No idea at all?"
"No," I denied, afraid to admit even to myself what I wanted to do to her and anxious about how it would feel if she didn't want the same thing. I was completely unconfident, a position I rarely found myself in, and I was the polar opposite of comfortable. I squirmed beneath her trying to shake off the way she was making me feel.
With an impish grin on her lips, she slowly moved her right hand to the back of her head and removed the clip she was wearing. She shook her head subtly, and her hair cascaded down around her shoulders.
"I just wanted to take the clip out of my hair, silly." She giggled to herself and turned to climb off my lap.
I couldn't let her leave. I grasped her hips impulsively and pulled her back to me, smashing my mouth into hers. It was too rough, far more intense than I'd intended. I fought to control myself, overcome by the commanding need to control her. I forced myself to relax my grip on her hipbones, but the feeling inside of me exploded. Gentle wasn't enough. It wasn't what I craved, and this was definitely a craving - primal, piercing and acute. I was consumed by it.
I pushed my mouth at hers over and over again, wholly lacking the patience to determine if she was responding with the same fervidity as I was. I just took each kiss, and as soon as I had it, I took another. My heart was racing, and my chest burned, but even the inability to get the oxygen I needed wasn't reason enough to stop my actions. I tunneled my fingers into her hair, gathering her curls into my hands. I didn't even realize how tightly I held them until I heard Bella whimper against my lips. It was the first thing strong enough to separate my actions from the force that drove them.
I immediately loosened my fingers and remorsefully slid my hands from her hair. I was too ashamed to even open my eyes and look at her when I pulled back from her lips.
"I'm sorry," I murmured, bracing myself for the backlash from Bella, knowing I deserved it.
Bella said nothing; she simply brought her lips back to mine. I felt her fingers caress the back of my head; I hadn't even realized her hands were in my hair. I tried to pull back to apologize again, to say something that would atone for my lack of discretion and my blatant disregard for her feelings, but she wouldn't let me. She smothered my feeble attempts at apologies with gentle, giving kisses. Each time I pulled my mouth away from hers, she returned her lips to mine, until my head was pressed tightly to the back of the couch and there was nowhere for me to go. I didn't understand what she was doing.
She poured out her affection onto my undeserving lips while I did my best to stubbornly resist enjoying myself. I hadn't earned the unspoken forgiveness that her kiss conveyed. Bella didn't agree, waiting out my guilt and reluctance until she broke me down. I took note of how her lips made me feel and tried to project that same feeling back at her. I must have had some success because I felt her body relax against mine.
Her kiss was soft and caring; her caress, gentle and unhurried. She was everything I needed in that moment, much like she'd been the night before, maybe even more so. I moved my hands along the back of her calves, hoping to return some of the warmth that she'd granted me. It took focus to keep my touch light and mirror the tenderness that she employed. My hands naturally drifted up toward her waist. I liked the way she felt against my body. Bella must have liked it too because when she finally pulled away from our kiss, she laid her head on my shoulder and lay pressed against me for several minutes.
When Bella sat up, she looked at me with her penetrating brown eyes. I didn't know what to say to break the silence, but she did. She always knew. She gave me a tiny grin that transformed into a beautiful, wide smile and put all of the misunderstanding and turmoil of the night into the past. It would never cease to amaze me how easily she could settle things between us.
Bella slid off my lap and tucked herself into my side, pulling my arm across the back of the couch and curling it around her shoulder. There was no misinterpreting what she wanted, and for that I was grateful. Neither of us knew what was going on in the movie, but we sat in silence and let it finish, content to stay within the comfort of our connection. I offered to return the movies for her as a tiny token of my gratitude. It was the least I could do to thank her for all that she had done for me. When she handed me the DVDs, I took her hand in mine and held it for a moment.
"Earlier you asked me why I don't eat Moroccan food very often. My parents introduced me to it. You see, they traveled to Morocco on their honeymoon and fell in love with it. I think they liked to relive the magic of their time there, so every few months we'd go to Seattle to have a big Moroccan dinner."
"That's so beautiful, Edward. They must have been very much in love."
"They were," I admitted, blushing. "My mother and I tried to continue the tradition after my father passed away, but it never felt the same without him. I haven't been in the mood for Moroccan food in so long. Tonight it seemed like the only food that made sense to bring, and you're the only person I could imagine sharing it with."
Bella's face lit up with emotion for a moment, but as fast as it appeared, it vanished, replaced by a gentle smile. I returned her smile and gave her hand a tiny squeeze. It seemed like an apropos finish to our evening. I left Bella on her doorstep and headed home. I wasn't tired; maybe I would actually watch the movies before I returned them.
A/N: Say it together: "Awwwww…" Yeah, that was pretty sweet of Edward, no?
Were you surprised by Bella's emotional breakdown? Did Edward's kiss make your knees weak? Do you have a hankering for Moroccan food? Would you risk your heart for Edward the way Bella is, or do you think she's an idiot? Do you think Edward is catching on to how he feels?
Let me know what you think is going to happen next or give me your opinion on what has already happened. I'd love to hear from you. Click that review button!
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 8: I Think You'd Be Happy If I Was Never In My Comfort Zone
DISCLAIMER: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder of the words, plot and lackluster formatting belong to me. Please do not re-post the story without authorization.
My sincerest apologies for the time between updates. The fault is completely mine. The busy holiday season kept me from getting the story to my betas in a timely fashion.
A huge thank-you to Scorp112 and LightStarDusting for all of their input and awesome beta skills. I added to the chapter after they looked at it, so all mistakes are mine.
Lastly, thanks to everyone who is reading and reviewing. I love hearing from you guys. It's wonderful to be able to discuss the story with people.
Chapter 8: I Think You'd Be Happy If I Was Never In My Comfort Zone
BPOV
It would have taken Edward forever to make the first move, so I took the bull by the horns and jumped in with both feet. I knew he wasn't expecting me to hold his hand, but I had no idea it would fluster him so badly. He looked almost pained he was so uncomfortable with the physical contact, and that reaction was the exact reason I doubted his ability to function in our experiment, why I'd questioned it to start with.
Every instinct I had told me to pull my hand away when he flinched, but I listened to my heart instead. Deep down, I knew he was just as afraid as I was, even if it was for a different reason. Besides, if I had pulled away, fear of rejection would have prevented me from ever trying to touch him again. Showing him that his quirks didn't get to me was important. I wanted him to know he was safe to be himself around me, even when his reaction was nonsensical or inappropriate. Leaving my hand on his was the only way I could think of to show him that I was committed to finding a way to make things between us work. So, I couldn't pull away until he was comfortable. I just didn't have any idea that his comfort level was so far out of whack.
Thirty-seven minutes. That's how long it took him to relax. Twenty-two minutes for his hand to loosen up, and another fifteen minutes for him to look me in the eye. Talk about a boy too caught up in his own head! Even with all that time to mull things over, I don't think he understood what I was doing. His eyes were a brilliant, blazing green when they met mine - full of confusion and upset. I would have given almost anything to know what he was thinking, but it would have very likely blown up in my face if I had put him on the spot. Edward had a hair-trigger when it came to his ability to operate outside of his comfort zone. If I had pressed him for answers, he probably would have shut down completely, and that would have gotten me nowhere fast.
I couldn't resist wondering about Edward's reaction in that insane, masochistic way all girls do when it comes to figuring out the mind of a guy they have feelings for. Admittedly, I was the queen of reading too much into things, and I swore to myself I wouldn't do it with him, but the situation begged the question: How could an almost eighteen-year-old guy never have even held someone's hand? I'd seen so many girls at school throw themselves at him. Was he never even tempted? I wasn't thinking in terms of a relationship per se, but when pretty girls are offering free samples, why wouldn't he be like every other guy and take them up on it? Then again, if how he reacted to my hand was indicative of how he reacted in any situation with the opposite sex, then his lack of experience was completely understandable.
He probably didn't even know the power he wielded just in being Edward Cullen. Off the top of my head, I could think of a dozen girls that were interested in him. One flick of that bronze-haired head and he could have anyone he wanted. Edward's appeal went beyond his good looks. He was intelligent, kind and a tiny bit mysterious. He was the sort of guy you daydreamed about when you were a little girl, the one you planned on living happily ever after with. At least, in theory, he was. In practice, his aloofness and irritatingly logical thought processes made getting to know the real Edward a challenging and potentially complicated operation. It was the one advantage I had over most everyone else. I'd gotten to know him before his father's death changed him, and I knew there was more to him than the isolated, detached person he'd become. He might not be that same boy that was once my friend, but all the makings of that boy were still there. I just had to wade through the awkwardness and discomfort to get to them.
As silly as it sounded, I still missed the person I once knew so well that I could finish his sentences. Life after Edward wasn't the same. I wasn't the same. My parent's divorce left me confused and alone. Edward's absence only compounded those feelings. I was helpless to alter either situation, so I did the only thing I could do: I impatiently waited for something to change. While I waited, I watched - everything and everyone - including Edward. I kept my distance from him, faithfully respectful of his request to be left alone. He may not have wanted to be my friend, but I still cared about him and wanted to understand what was going on with him. Ultimately, watching became a habit - part of who I was - and Edward was a piece of the praxis. My comprehension of him was still incomplete, even after years of observation, but I was probably the closet thing to an Edward-Cullen-expert that existed.
Navigating the ebb and flow of interactions between us would be no small feat. Patience could only take me so far. I had to learn to think like Edward to avoid misunderstandings. There was no stopping my emotions, but I needed to do everything I could to keep them in check. If I let my guard down, it would be too easy to show him how much I cared. Edward would be totally overwhelmed by what I felt for him, and that would fuck up everything between us. I needed to keep my feelings hidden and focus on projecting the qualities that he needed to feel comfortable. On the outside, I would be patient and cooperative, allowing him some space to work through his issues. On the inside, I'd feel every touch and emotion, both positive and negative, and truthfully, I didn't want it any other way.
For so long, all I could do was hope that he'd be a part of my life again, and I certainly never thought I'd have the chance to become more than friends with him. This was my once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to reach out to him. No one had ever made me feel as safe and protected as he had the day he got my ribbon back for me. I wanted to return the gesture, to show him how deeply I cared for him and that I accepted him for who he was. I wasn't looking for a fairytale or a white knight. I wanted the real Edward - the good, the bad and everything in between. It didn't matter to me that the relationship we were creating was imaginary. Everything he would make me feel during our experiment would be real, even if we weren't. And maybe, if I gave him the best of me, he might remember the way he used to feel for me. I knew it was a long shot, but it was all I had. I was willing to risk my heart for a chance at his.
I was at a loss as I stared at the huge wall of DVDs at the video rental store. I had no clue what sort of movie Edward would like to watch. Dark comedy? Mystery? Suspense thriller? I would have preferred a romantic comedy to keep the evening buoyant, but something told me that a chick flick would only make Edward more uncomfortable. I wanted the night to be as easy going as possible, so I choose a thriller and a partly biographical war drama, hoping that one or the other would suffice.
After our bumpy attempt at hand-holding the prior night, it was important to make sure that Edward felt comfortable around me. That meant keeping the mood light and giving him some breathing space. I couldn't let myself stare at him, force him to talk to me, or pressure him in any way. Most especially, I had to keep my hands to myself. I'd made it clear last night that the experiment was under way. Edward would have to decide the next move on his own agenda.
My dad was working, so we had the house to ourselves all night. Truthfully, I was glad for the privacy. I didn't want him to know about Edward. He'd only tease me, or worse, pull some sort of over-protective father crap. We were all better off if Charlie was in the dark for as long as possible. It was none of his business anyway.
I made brownies to accompany the dinner that Edward was bringing. While they were baking, I found vanilla ice cream in the freezer and decided brownie sundaes were in order. Thirty minutes later, with homemade hot fudge sauce and whipped cream in my arsenal, my plan of attack was complete. If the way to a man's heart was through his stomach, then my bases were covered, and I would have some comfort food to fall back on if the night was a bust in every other way. Ice cream never ceased to make me feel better. Maybe it would do the same for Edward.
After I cleaned up the kitchen and living room, I headed upstairs to shower and change. The air was humid and unseasonably warm, so I opted for function over form, knowing what I wore would have no effect Edward. I didn't even bother to dry my hair. I just twisted it up off my neck with a clip. Wearing my hair up always made me feel pretty and sometimes, like today, kind of sexy. Though the hair itself might be lost on Edward, I hoped the way I was feeling would have some subtle effect on him. Edward was getting the classic version of Saturday-night-movie-watching Bella - laid-back, indulgent and a tiny bit audacious.
The awkwardness of last night's encounter felt a million light years away. I was actually excited for our night together by the time I heard the doorbell ring. I reminded myself to keep the night light as I made my way downstairs.
~8~
EPOV
I drove to Port Angeles to pick up dinner. Bella had found the only interesting takeout in all of Forks, and I wanted to one up her, or at least try. I had an ulterior motive for choosing the meal that I was bringing, but I hadn't decided if I would share it with her yet.
The two hours of driving did me good. For whatever reason, when I got behind the wheel, my whole body relaxed like I was in some kind of vehicular decompression chamber. The stereo probably helped too, the louder the better. The cabin of the Volvo had excellent acoustics, and I tested them every time I took the car out by myself.
As I drove, my mind wandered but always came back to what happened with Bella. I felt like an ass when I replayed the events as I tried to fall asleep last night. I'd hurt her feelings when I stiffened at her touch; I'd seen the look on her face. I'm sure it made Bella doubt my commitment to the experiment, and why wouldn't it? My reaction was ridiculous. It wasn't representative of the way she made me feel - at least I didn't think it was - but I'd be the first to admit that I didn't understand what was going on inside of me.
She had every right to be angry with me for the way I reacted. Yet, despite my atrocious reaction, her hand never faltered. I still couldn't reason why she didn't pull it away. The patience she exhibited was exceptional, certainly more than the average person, and probably more than I deserved, given my faux pas. I felt both relieved and panicked after she left. The panic I understood. I would have preferred a second chance to react more appropriately before the night ended. The relief, however, confused me. It wasn't until much later that I connected it with the intentionality of her actions. It boded well for the experiment if that was the sort of composure and diligence she always put forth.
Our reactions were so confounding - both mine to her and hers to me. I found it perplexing that her kiss could cause me to feel one way, while her touch, a completely other way. The confusion stripped me of my confidence to the point that I was uncomfortable trusting my own instincts. It made no sense to me that I would feel panicked when she reached out for my hand, that it unsettled me so deeply that I couldn't get my wits about me. Surely attraction had a more positive effect than that on a person. Logically, that meant what I was feeling was not attraction, but that didn't explain the rush brought on by the sweep of her thumb across my skin. It was a more localized reaction than the bodily effect of her lips on mine, but my emotional response was more extreme, too. Maybe the emotion was just a result of relief that the caress didn't cause panic. Without more exposure to her touch, I would never know if my reaction was normal or a fluke.
Regardless of my confusion, I knew that I needed to do something to reassure Bella that she did not make the wrong choice to take part in the experiment. I wanted to make some kind of gesture, to go out on a limb to show her that my efforts were as invested as hers were. It didn't have to be grand, but it did have to be clear. I made a conscious effort to let go of my negativity with regard to the way I'd reacted when she touched me. In the grand scheme of things, it probably didn't matter, and even if it did, I couldn't take it back or change it in any way. To me, it made more sense to chalk it up to inexperience and being caught off guard, so we could put the awkwardness behind us. Besides, as pathetic as the notion was, I couldn't think of another explanation that made more sense.
I was exceedingly relaxed by the time I knocked on Bella's door. She opened it a moment later, smiling from ear to ear, and invited me in with a wave of her hand. She took my jacket and gave me a quick tour of her house. When she showed me the kitchen, I took the opportunity to re-warm dinner in the microwave.
"I figured we'd eat in the living room, if that's okay with you?" she asked. I nodded my agreement and followed her lead. She had two places already set out on the coffee table for us. "So what did you bring for dinner?"
"It's a surprise. I drove to Port Angeles to get it." I held up the bag so she could see it.
"Well it can't be anything too risky, or you wouldn't eat it," she decided, laughing.
"I ate your squid." Despite what she thought, I was quite proud of myself for trying every single thing she'd brought.
"One bite hardly counts as eating. It's barely a sample." Her smirk was playful. It was clear that she enjoyed teasing me.
"Regardless, tonight it's your turn to move out of your comfort zone," I declared boastfully. She laughed loudly and then covered her mouth with her hand. "What's so funny?"
"I'm pretty sure you were never in your comfort zone last night." Her statement was more of an affirmation than an allegation. As usual, her perception of me was dead on. It was disheartening that she saw me more clearly than I saw myself.
"Did you want to talk about what happened?" I asked resignedly, taking a seat on the couch.
"Only if you do." She shrugged noncommittally at me.
"I'm good… as long as you are?" I asked, unable to mask my disbelief. I was sure she'd want to discuss my reaction. Plus, if she had any concerns, it was better to get them out in the open.
"I'm good," she echoed with a smile. The honesty in her expression washed away my lingering doubts about the night before. For whatever reason, Bella was choosing to disregard my poor behavior. It was a comforting to know she wasn't going to dissect every single interaction between us. While a certain amount of reflection was required by the parameters of our experiment, deliberating over every detail would bog us down and choke our progress.
Bella sat down on the floor beside my feet. It struck me as a very odd thing to do, and my curiosity exploded. "Why are you sitting down there?"
She looked over her shoulder at me and giggled. "It's a long standing thing with my dad and me. I used to bug him to eat in the living room all the time. He would let me as long as I sat on the floor. Now it just feels weird to eat on the couch."
How strange, not to mention illogical. I didn't even try to hide my derision. "You do realize how ridiculous that sounds, don't you?"
"Don't be so close-minded," she chided playfully. "I like it down here, and I'm not making you sit down here with me…not that it would hurt you one little bit to try something new."
"Sitting on the floor is hardly new to me, Bella. I sat on the carpet in kindergarten just like everyone else."
"Did you seriously just compare me to a five-year-old?" She shot me a slightly annoyed glare. Though it was mostly in jest, I found her irritation amusing.
"You are sitting with your legs crossed the way Mrs. Smith used to make us do," I pointed out, biting my lip to keep from smirking at her.
"Get your ass down here with me," she demanded. "It would do your smug behind some good to get in touch with your five-year-old self."
She reached for my hand and tried to jerk my weight in her direction. I resisted, locking my arms and planting my feet so she couldn't move me, knowing it would only goad her to try again. "I think you'd be happy if I was never in my comfort zone."
"I don't like to see you limit yourself by never trying new things," she explained. Using both hands this time, she pulled me to the edge of the couch.
"We've already established that sitting on the floor is not a new thing," I countered, chuckling. I knew I was being cheeky. She made it easy with her wide smiles and laughing eyes.
"You haven't sat criss-cross-applesauce in almost thirteen years, so you're out of practice. It will be like the first time." Her hands tugged me one last time, and I gave up the fight, letting her pull me down.
"Touché," I replied, settling down on the floor beside her. I began to unpack dinner, making room for the containers on the table before I opened them.
"It smells delicious," Bella noted. "What is it?"
"Moroccan. Start with these," I suggested, pointing at the briouat. Anxious for her reaction, I watched as she tentatively took one and raised it to her mouth to take a bite.
"It is delicious! The dough is so crispy." She covered her mouth while she spoke, smiling as she attempted to hide her embarrassment for speaking with her mouth full.
"I'm glad you like it. They are one of my favorite things to eat." I took one for myself but ate very little, caught up in observing Bella's enjoyment of the pastry. I tried very hard not to stare, but her manner was engrossing.
"I've never had Moroccan food before."
"I'd be surprised if many people in Forks had." Forks wasn't exactly a mecca for international cuisine.
"Do you eat it often?" She peeked over at me with curious eyes as she brought the deep-fried triangle up to her mouth.
"Not so often anymore." Not for a long time actually. A very long time.
"Why not?" She took another bite, chewing thoughtfully as she waited for my answer.
I wasn't ready to tell her why but couldn't think of an appropriate substitute for the truth. Her expectant gaze made me feel nervous, and my fingers involuntarily picked at the pastry in front of me.
"Although I'm sure the hour's drive to the nearest Moroccan place would deter anyone," she suggested. When I looked over at her, I could see the understanding in her eyes. She knew I didn't wish to explain further. "What's next?" she asked enthusiastically.
"There's bread," I told her, pointing to the khoubz. "You can have some of that while I fix your food." I made a bed of couscous on her plate and then spooned the tagine over it. "Before you try this, you have to close your eyes."
"Why?"
"Just trust me," I urged.
"You're not going to do anything gross are you?"
"Define gross." I had to bite my lip to keep from smirking. Sometimes she could be such a girl.
"Like making me eat a bug or something disgusting like that?" She grimaced at the thought. I couldn't blame her.
"No, Bella. I'm not cruel. Now, close your eyes." I waited patiently for her to give in to my request, and when she finally closed her eyes, I filled a fork with some lamb and held it up to her mouth. "Take a bite, but make sure you keep your eyes closed."
"You haven't told me why I have to keep my eyes closed," she complained.
"You'll understand in a minute."
She cautiously opened her mouth, so I moved the fork closer, hesitating as her lips caught my attention. Had they always been so pink and full? She took the food into her mouth and chewed slowly, leaving her eyes closed, like I asked.
"Cumin…and cinnamon." Her words were more of a question than a statement, but it was exactly the response I wanted from her.
"Yes. What else?" I couldn't help but smile. She always seemed to understand what my point was, even when I didn't make it obvious.
"There's a hint of citrus that I can't place, and a tiny bit of spice."
"It's cardamom, and the heat comes from cayenne pepper."
She pursed her lips, contemplating the flavors. "Nope, it's not the cayenne that I'm tasting. It's more subtle…fresh ginger maybe?"
"Very good."
"And honey. The sweetness is honey," she stated decidedly.
I was still smiling when she opened her eyes. "Did you like it?"
"Very much. I've never tried anything like it before. It's earthy and comforting."
"You were very good at picking out the spices," I praised, spurred by her enthusiasm.
"Isn't that what you wanted me to do?"
"Yes, but I didn't think you'd be able to do it."
"So you underestimated me?" she accused with a smug grin.
"I guess I did. The spices in the dish are rather unusual." I ran my hand through my hair, trying to fend off the sudden rush of self-consciousness. "How did you know what I wanted you to do? That's impressive. It doesn't happen for me very often."
"What doesn't happen very often? You being impressed?" She bit her lip, trying but failing to stop her smirk.
"Someone figuring out what I want without me being very specific," I explained. People rarely took the time to understand the things I asked.
"I'm getting better at thinking like you," she said proudly.
"It's more than that, I think." I looked away, unable to meet her probing gaze. She seemed to see everything, even the things I tried to hide. It was a wonder she hadn't already guessed my motivation for suggesting a physical relationship. "We seem to work quite well together. That will help our experiment, don't you think?"
"If it's true, then it will. I haven't decided if we do or not." Obviously, Bella still had reservations about the experiment. It was up to me to find a way to strengthen her resolve.
The rest of our dinner conversation fell short, consisting solely of polite chitchat about the food. I was depending on Bella to keep the conversation flowing, and she was unusually uncommunicative. She seemed to enjoy the meal though, thanking me numerous times for going out of my way to bring it. To me, it was nothing more than returning the favor, and her gratitude seemed excessive, her focus on the intention of my actions out of place. I helped Bella clear the dishes so we could get the movie started and move beyond the awkward pauses in conversation.
"I didn't bring dessert. Nothing at the restaurant seemed appropriate. I find most Moroccan desserts too sweet," I confessed.
"That's okay. I made something. Go have a seat, and I'll bring it in."
While I waited for Bella, I set up the DVD player. The thriller seemed like the more promising of the two movies she'd rented, so I put it in first. She returned a few minutes later with a tray. She put a cup of coffee and a bowl down in front of me.
"You made that?" I blurted in surprise. "It looks like something a chef would prepare."
"One of these days you're going to learn that I'm more than just a pretty face," she teased.
"I didn't mean it that way."
"I know. Go ahead and try it. I promise it's good." She smiled at me, waiting and watching me the same way I had done earlier with her. I dug the spoon in and scooped out a little bit of everything in the bowl.
"Wow, that's good," I mumbled, my mouth still full of the delicious blend of rich chocolate and light vanilla sweetness.
"Told you so." Bella giggled in satisfaction and plopped down beside me on the floor. She looked happy as she sampled a big spoonful of her sundae. I followed suit, taking another bite and tumbling back into chocolate bliss.
"So good," I murmured, more to myself than to her, but it made Bella's smile even bigger.
I stretched my legs out in front of me and let the couch support my weight while I finished my dessert. The movie was interesting enough but only held my attention in spurts. Bella's house was much less formal than mine, and the laid-back atmosphere had a positive effect on me. Even with Bella sitting quite close to me, I wasn't the least bit uncomfortable with the proximity of our bodies. If anything, it added to my distracted state, almost as if the closeness demanded my awareness, because every movement from her direction caught my attention.
Bella was intensely focused on the movie, her legs pulled into her body with her arms wrapped around them. It gave me ample time to observe her. Her hair was pulled up off her neck with some sort of clip. I studied the way it was twisted, trying to figure out how the contraption worked, but it was a mystery to me. The style definitely showed off Bella's assets. Her neck was beautifully long and slender. The way the loose tendrils fell away from the rest of her hair was appealing - the dark strands deeply contrasted against her pale skin. My eyes traced the path of the curls across her shoulders, which were bare except for the tiny strap of the purple tank top that she wore. So much exposed skin, more than I could remember seeing on her before. I wondered which was softer, her skin or the hair that laid on it. As if she could sense me staring or knew the direction of my thoughts, she shuddered and turned to look at me. I smiled at her and hoped she hadn't caught me studying her.
"Is it just me, or is it kind of warm in here?" she whispered, running her hand along the very part of her neck that I had been staring at. I had to clear my throat to keep from laughing at the irony.
"A little," I concurred.
The truth was that I was quite hot and very overdressed for the unseasonably warm evening. I peeled off my plaid shirt, in hopes of cooling down, and laid it on the couch behind us. As I reached around the back of Bella, I realized I simply had to stretch my fingertips a small amount and they would make contact with the skin at the nape of her neck. It was exceptionally tempting, and the easiness of the gesture made it all the more appealing. Perhaps this was the way I could make up for my stupidity last night - by making the first move. For a moment, the awkwardness paralyzed me. What if she didn't want me to touch her? She hadn't given me her permission. Deep down, I knew I had to break through my own self-consciousness and doubts. If my touch made her uncomfortable, then we'd have to discuss it. I moved my hand forward, deliberately ignoring the reservations in my head.
My fingers brushed lightly along her cool skin, a pleasant contrast to the heat of my body. She shifted back toward my hand a small amount in response. I took it as a positive sign and continued. My hand fumbled across her shoulders unskillfully. The movie was only background noise now. Instead, I studied Bella's neck and marveled that the situation was even happening. Touching her was as natural as I imagined it should have been, and much more comfortable than I anticipated. My fingers eventually found their way around to her collarbone. She shivered when I touched her there - goose bumps erupted on her skin instantly, and her head tilted to one side. There was something so alluring about her reaction, something powerful and feminine - it had to be meaningful. I tried to memorize it in detail so I could recall it later and think about it. I wanted to remember how she reacted so I would know the next time I touched her in a way that pleased her.
I stilled my hand and left it resting on her shoulder. It was hard to keep from fidgeting. There was a part of me that wanted to explore Bella's skin further to see if I could make her react to my touch again, but I was apprehensive about going too far, too fast. I didn't trust myself to react properly yet, and I wasn't sure how quickly Bella wanted to move. I needed her consent to continue, some sort of signal that would make it clear that she was comfortable; even something subtle would do. Asking her directly might disrupt the ease between us, and I wasn't feeling terribly confident in my instincts. Did I want to draw attention to that fact?
I stared at Bella, scrutinizing the changes in her expression, looking for any sign of her assent. Every response I noticed seemed to be in reaction to the movie. After several minutes, I knew I had to suck it up and ask her. Not only did our experiment depend on open communication, no amount of wishing was going to make her respond. I leaned toward her body and spoke softly against her ear.
"Is this okay?" I couldn't have felt more inexperienced and juvenile if I tried. I was glad the room was dark so she couldn't see the discomfort on my face.
"Mmm-hmm," she hummed, sliding closer to me, letting her body rest against my side. In that single simple gesture, she relieved me of all my turmoil. I was a little in awe of her instinct; she just seemed to innately know what others needed, or at least she did when it came to me.
We really did make a good team, even if Bella hadn't realized it yet, and she only reinforced my belief during the climax of the movie. Bella turned her head into my chest when the scene became too much for her. The fact that she could turn to me for consolation spoke volumes about her comfort level. She knew she could count on me, and I felt the same way about her. It was exactly what I wanted from our partnership - a natural synergy based not on dependence but cognition and procedure, where every action was purposeful and met with a corresponding reaction, where each step was logical and predictable, no surprises, no deviations.
The movie ended in an emotional flourish that made little sense to me since I hadn't paid close attention to the story, but Bella's reaction was fascinating. What began as a stray tear culminated in an uncontrollable outpouring of grief - silent sobs shook her shoulders and streams of liquid sorrow stained her cheeks. It was as if she were the heroine in the story that had endured the hardships and loss. Her empathy was astounding.
She quietly excused herself when the credits began to roll and headed for the bathroom. I switched the first movie for the second and waited for her to return.
"Sorry about that," she mumbled when she came back into the room. Her eyes darted around the room nervously, looking everywhere but at me.
"It's not a big deal," I assured her.
She grimaced and shook her head in disagreement. "I know that you didn't sign up for all this emotional bullshit… that it makes you… uncomfortable. It won't happen again."
"I don't mind," I told her quietly. "The fact that you can empathize so strongly with another person is quite extraordinary. You shouldn't be ashamed of one of your greatest personality strengths."
"I don't think blubbering like an idiot is of much use as a character trait." For someone with such a keen perception, she didn't see herself very clearly.
"I don't know another person who sees the world quite like you do. You don't-"
She cut me off. "That's probably a good thing."
"Not really. In fact, it's kind of a shame. If more people could be kind like you…" I struggled to find the right words. "… And see past the little things that they obsess over, well, the world would be a better place." She had limitless acceptance. I wanted her to realize how easy it was for people to be themselves around her because of it. She blushed instantly under my compliment, her self-consciousness racing across her cheeks in a flood of ruby color. I didn't mean to make her feel embarrassed so I changed the subject. "I set up the next movie, if you're ready to watch it?"
"Sure." She took a seat on the couch instead of the floor.
"We aren't sitting on the floor any longer?"
"You can sit wherever you'd like," she said, her tone suddenly much cooler.
When I sat down next to Bella, she shifted to the far end of the couch. While I was glad for the opportunity to sit on something softer than the floor, I felt like I'd been relegated back to step one with her. My compliment had definitely shifted the dynamic between us. As the movie began, I made a conscious effort to get back the connection we'd shared during the first movie. I positioned my arm on the back of the couch and let my fingers casually rest against her shoulder. When she didn't react, I turned my body toward hers and leaned in closer to her, giving her my complete attention in an effort to show her my willingness. She ignored me. I could see she was visibly uncomfortable, rigid, and unemotional - very unlike herself. The contentment from earlier was gone, and I missed it. I didn't want the night to end, but I didn't want to prolong her discomfort, either.
"Do you want to just call it a night?" I asked in a low voice.
"Do you?" The defensive edge in her tone made it feel like she was daring me to make my choice, as if she'd made up her mind how I would respond and was waiting for me to prove her right.
"I admit I don't understand why you're upset with me. My compliment certainly wasn't intended to make you angry. Either way, if you'd rather I went home so you can be by yourself, I will respect your wishes."
"Is that what you want?" she asked, looking up at me. The anger had completely vanished from her voice. She seemed almost reluctant now, and there was vulnerability in her eyes, as if I'd wounded her in some way.
"I've done something to upset you." I felt like an idiot stating the obvious, but I had no idea what to do.
"So you do want to go home…" she whispered shamefully. That emotion seemed so misplaced that it confused me.
"I didn't say that. I'm trying to figure out what you want." I was only a step away from exasperated - completely and utterly lost.
"If you want to go home, that's okay." I was hurting her; I could hear it in her voice. It made zero sense to me.
"Hold on. This isn't working. We both need to stop deciding what the other person wants because all we're doing is frustrating one another. To answer your question: no, I don't want to go home. I'm enjoying my time with you. But if I pushed you too far, I'll be happy to bring our evening to a close. I don't wish to prolong any upset you might be feeling."
"I'm sorry if my behavior made you uncomfortable. I would totally understand if you wanted to get out of here."
With my verbal request being ignored, I had the urge to clamp my hand over her mouth to make her stop talking. I resisted, understanding the childishness of the desire, but my palm twitched anxiously. "I've already said that I don't want to. Do you want me to go?" My voice was far more demanding than I intended it to be, but better that than the petulance and anger that I was fighting to control.
"No," she whispered.
"Then I'll stay." My reply was curt. These sorts of disagreements were exactly the reason I had so few friends. I didn't do well with frustration.
Bella covered her face with her hands and laughed. "You must think I'm insane."
"No," I told her, laughing in spite of my irritation, thankful that the heaviness of the mood seemed to be lifting. "But I'll do my best to be prepared for your reaction next time."
She quirked one of her eyebrows at me. "Not everything can be predicted, Edward. If you want to understand how a woman's mind works then you need to accept rule number one: we are unpredictable creatures."
"Women are certainly more capricious than men," I allowed, "but not entirely unpredictable. One only needs to pay close attention to learn a woman's patterns. That should make it easy enough to predict her behavior."
"Sorry to break it to you, but women are perpetually unpredictable. In the same situation, no two women are going to react the same way, and even the same woman could react differently. It's dependant on so many things."
"That seems improbable, Bella."
"That seems improbable," she repeated in a mocking tone. "Then you were expecting this?"
Bella brought her leg up, and before I understood the motion, she'd stretched it across my body so she was straddling my legs. The closeness of her body was enough to throw me for a loop, but it was her warmth that set me reeling. I suddenly felt like I had no control - not over the situation or myself - and I was instantly defensive.
"No, of course not. We were having a conversation. Why would I be expecting you to climb on to my lap? You're purposely being erratic."
"That's my point, Edward."
"There's a point to this?" I challenged, my irritation flaring. I tried to slow down the thoughts whirling around in my mind. What I had originally thought was awkwardness had morphed into something even more uncomfortable - arousal. She was manipulating me. That shouldn't turn me on.
"Yes, there's a point, and you should know what it is, if I'm predictable." Her eyes held mine captive. She moved her body closer to mine with deliberate slowness, making her intention to convince me more than clear.
"I never said I could predict your behavior. I was speaking hypothetically." I was backpedaling, trying to avoid being further ensnared in her trap. It irked me that I couldn't seem to resist her even though I was fully aware it was all a ploy.
"Fine, then apply your hypothesis to me." The warm breath of her whisper tickled my face. I fought back a shiver.
"Just make your point," I demanded in a raspy voice. My lungs struggled to work, seemingly unable to take in enough air to function properly. I couldn't tell if I was coming or going, drifting somewhere between annoyance and lust. I didn't like her game; it was too controlling, but I'd never wanted to kiss a woman so much in my life.
"You can't tell what I want?" she murmured, the tiniest hint of a pout on her lips. She pressed her thighs into mine and held them there. "No idea at all?"
"No," I denied, afraid to admit even to myself what I wanted to do to her and anxious about how it would feel if she didn't want the same thing. I was completely unconfident, a position I rarely found myself in, and I was the polar opposite of comfortable. I squirmed beneath her trying to shake off the way she was making me feel.
With an impish grin on her lips, she slowly moved her right hand to the back of her head and removed the clip she was wearing. She shook her head subtly, and her hair cascaded down around her shoulders.
"I just wanted to take the clip out of my hair, silly." She giggled to herself and turned to climb off my lap.
I couldn't let her leave. I grasped her hips impulsively and pulled her back to me, smashing my mouth into hers. It was too rough, far more intense than I'd intended. I fought to control myself, overcome by the commanding need to control her. I forced myself to relax my grip on her hipbones, but the feeling inside of me exploded. Gentle wasn't enough. It wasn't what I craved, and this was definitely a craving - primal, piercing and acute. I was consumed by it.
I pushed my mouth at hers over and over again, wholly lacking the patience to determine if she was responding with the same fervidity as I was. I just took each kiss, and as soon as I had it, I took another. My heart was racing, and my chest burned, but even the inability to get the oxygen I needed wasn't reason enough to stop my actions. I tunneled my fingers into her hair, gathering her curls into my hands. I didn't even realize how tightly I held them until I heard Bella whimper against my lips. It was the first thing strong enough to separate my actions from the force that drove them.
I immediately loosened my fingers and remorsefully slid my hands from her hair. I was too ashamed to even open my eyes and look at her when I pulled back from her lips.
"I'm sorry," I murmured, bracing myself for the backlash from Bella, knowing I deserved it.
Bella said nothing; she simply brought her lips back to mine. I felt her fingers caress the back of my head; I hadn't even realized her hands were in my hair. I tried to pull back to apologize again, to say something that would atone for my lack of discretion and my blatant disregard for her feelings, but she wouldn't let me. She smothered my feeble attempts at apologies with gentle, giving kisses. Each time I pulled my mouth away from hers, she returned her lips to mine, until my head was pressed tightly to the back of the couch and there was nowhere for me to go. I didn't understand what she was doing.
She poured out her affection onto my undeserving lips while I did my best to stubbornly resist enjoying myself. I hadn't earned the unspoken forgiveness that her kiss conveyed. Bella didn't agree, waiting out my guilt and reluctance until she broke me down. I took note of how her lips made me feel and tried to project that same feeling back at her. I must have had some success because I felt her body relax against mine.
Her kiss was soft and caring; her caress, gentle and unhurried. She was everything I needed in that moment, much like she'd been the night before, maybe even more so. I moved my hands along the back of her calves, hoping to return some of the warmth that she'd granted me. It took focus to keep my touch light and mirror the tenderness that she employed. My hands naturally drifted up toward her waist. I liked the way she felt against my body. Bella must have liked it too because when she finally pulled away from our kiss, she laid her head on my shoulder and lay pressed against me for several minutes.
When Bella sat up, she looked at me with her penetrating brown eyes. I didn't know what to say to break the silence, but she did. She always knew. She gave me a tiny grin that transformed into a beautiful, wide smile and put all of the misunderstanding and turmoil of the night into the past. It would never cease to amaze me how easily she could settle things between us.
Bella slid off my lap and tucked herself into my side, pulling my arm across the back of the couch and curling it around her shoulder. There was no misinterpreting what she wanted, and for that I was grateful. Neither of us knew what was going on in the movie, but we sat in silence and let it finish, content to stay within the comfort of our connection. I offered to return the movies for her as a tiny token of my gratitude. It was the least I could do to thank her for all that she had done for me. When she handed me the DVDs, I took her hand in mine and held it for a moment.
"Earlier you asked me why I don't eat Moroccan food very often. My parents introduced me to it. You see, they traveled to Morocco on their honeymoon and fell in love with it. I think they liked to relive the magic of their time there, so every few months we'd go to Seattle to have a big Moroccan dinner."
"That's so beautiful, Edward. They must have been very much in love."
"They were," I admitted, blushing. "My mother and I tried to continue the tradition after my father passed away, but it never felt the same without him. I haven't been in the mood for Moroccan food in so long. Tonight it seemed like the only food that made sense to bring, and you're the only person I could imagine sharing it with."
Bella's face lit up with emotion for a moment, but as fast as it appeared, it vanished, replaced by a gentle smile. I returned her smile and gave her hand a tiny squeeze. It seemed like an apropos finish to our evening. I left Bella on her doorstep and headed home. I wasn't tired; maybe I would actually watch the movies before I returned them.
A/N: Say it together: "Awwwww…" Yeah, that was pretty sweet of Edward, no?
Were you surprised by Bella's emotional breakdown? Did Edward's kiss make your knees weak? Do you have a hankering for Moroccan food? Would you risk your heart for Edward the way Bella is, or do you think she's an idiot? Do you think Edward is catching on to how he feels?
Let me know what you think is going to happen next or give me your opinion on what has already happened. I'd love to hear from you. Click that review button!