Part Seven
Part Seven
Hands snaked around my face and covered my mouth. I tensed, frightened - I had been on my way back to my trailer after the airport reunion scene between Bella, Edward, Alice and the rest of the Cullens. It had been one of the easier scenes to film; I, too, felt a reunion on the horizon.
Someone much taller than me pressed into my back, and I relaxed against him as I recognized the shape. He had a very obvious erection that was curving into the small of my back, and I brought my hand around to grasp at it. We kept playing these games - we hadn’t had sex since the night he told me that he refused to treat me like a whore - but that didn’t stop us from making our attraction, our need, well known.
“Careful,” Rob growled in my ear, and then chuckled underneath his breath at my disappointed huff of air. “Just wanted to let you know that the door will be open tonight.”
I hadn’t spent a night in my apartment since then, either. Rob and I began an oddly domestic life again - we slept in the same bed, ate under the same roof, showered under the same stream of water. But those nights were some of the most confusing of my life. Some moments would be tense with an undercurrent of hostility - you left me! Well, you killed me! Some moments were spent doubled-over in laughter - we were finding it easier and easier to make reference to old inside jokes. The hardest moments were spent tangled up in the sheets with him, as he stared down into my face and wouldn’t let me speak all of the apologies that were on the tip of my tongue.
“Gonna give it up tonight?” I whispered, grinding back into his hardness.
He groaned.
*
“Finished?” I asked him as he placed his fork down with a clatter on his plate. I wasn’t the best cook in the world, but I had a pretty simple recipe for fettuccini Alfredo that he had always loved. When we had gotten home that night, he surprised the hell out of me by asking me to make it for him.
A quick run to the grocery store and two hours later, he was leaning back in his chair, scratching at his eyebrow and smiling appreciatively at me from across his small table. “Finished,” he answered.
I stood up to grab at his plate - I was finished, too - and as I took it off the table, I pressed a kiss to the crown of his head that I hadn’t meant to. It was just so out of habit, so something that I used to do after cleaning up after him that it made me stop in my tracks. I heard his small intake of breath.
All of a sudden, it was just too much. All of this shit just felt so fake to me - the domestication of a break up, the stepping carefully around each other, his stupid fucking senses, the fact that he wouldn’t sex me up a little to at least alleviate some tension. The fact that my heart was still broken because I didn’t know if this was just convenient to him; whether or not he would one night lock his door, and I would have to walk back to my car in shame, in tears. Would there ever be a night when I would be able to look at our relationship and clearly think one way or another? Would I be able to look down at him as he was sleeping, would I be able to trace the lines of his crow’s feet and think, Thank God you still love me, too. Or would I have to stare at his locked door for hours and think, oh God, it’s really over this time.
I threw the plates down on the counter and turned to face him so quickly that he scooted his chair back a notch. “Fuck this,” I snarled.
He opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off with sharp strike of my hand through the air.
“I’m about to tell you a whole bunch of shit you’re not going to want to hear, but fuck you.” I ran my hand through my hair - my hands were shaking, but my voice was sturdy. “You’re a fucking idiot. Why won’t you just let me apologize to you so we can stop playing this stupid game and just get back to it? You know that I love you; you know that I have never stopped loving you, not once. You know that every time I have to be around you, it nearly brings me to my knees. So why? Why all of this?”
He stared at me for almost a full minute. “So, I’m allowed to speak now?”
My anger must have blazed through my eyes, because he scooted back some more. “Obviously you are allowed to say something when I ask you a direct question!”
He stood up. “I’m not ready to forgive you yet, that’s why.”
I threw my hands in the air. “So you feel like it’s okay to use me like this?”
He had been on his way out of the kitchen, but that made him pause. He turned his whole body to me gracefully, like he was twirling. “I’m sorry, but who’s taking advantage of whom? I do believe it was you that initiated our little fuck fest, and it was me that had to stop it.”
I stalked towards him - when I reached him, I shoved him so hard that his solid body stumbled. “It might have been fucking to you, but it was never fucking to me. I was with you, so it was because of love. Whether I’m angry at you or not, whether you say nasty, humiliating things to me or not, it’s still you, and I still love you, so fuck off. It’s making love for me, no matter how you look at it.”
His jaw clenched together; I could hear the familiar pop as he ground his teeth. “Lovely,” he spit out, shoving me almost as hard as I shoved him. “It’s great to hear all of this after we’re not together anymore. Maybe if you had been better at loving me, none of this would have happened.”
I screeched in frustration. “I might not be perfect -“
He cut me off. “I was a nervous wreck around you, always. You have always had the upper hand between us, and it made me feel like I had to whisper out of reverence. You got to decide when it was time for us to be together - after months and months of breaking my heart, you decided to finally give up Michael. Which, by the way, you two look just beautiful together. Still. That was a nice little cherry on top of my fucked sundae.”
“Michael and I are just friends. I spent the whole evening in that restaurant looking at our booth, you fucking asshole. I tripped outside, and Michael caught me. I’m sorry you had to find out that way-“
“Bullshit,” Rob argued, getting up close to my face. “You wanted to hurt me just like I hurt you. Well, you fucking succeeded, Kristen. I hope you TiVo’d the expression on my face, so you can go back and watch it in case you need a point of reference of when exactly my heart shattered in five fucking thousand pieces.”
“You broke up with me! Why the fuck should I have to answer to your feelings?” I could feel the tears start to gather in the back of my throat, but I fought them down.
He chuckled without humor. “In case you didn’t notice, the night we did the breakup scene, I waited around by your car for nearly an hour so I could have a chance to talk to you. I was going to tell you that I wanted to try again because as long as you loved me back and were willing to work things out, I couldn’t live without you. But no, you had to act like a bitch, so what choice did I have but to walk away from you again?” He clenched his fists in his hair, bringing it back harshly from his eyes. “Do you remember the thing I said? Ooevoli? I said I love you. Backwards.”
I stared at him a minute, comprehension and hope dawning at the same time. “How was I supposed to know that you were trying to say that?” My voice was a whisper as I took in that I failed him again. I could have had him weeks and weeks ago, but I was the reason that I didn’t have him. Again.
He shook his head. “It hardly matters now.”
“It matters now, more than ever.” My heart started to race harshly against my chest; I felt nauseous. His voice sounded so dejected, so… resigned.
He shook his head again. “I think… I think it’s too fucked up now to be repaired.” I heard the catch in his throat, and I knew he was as close to tears as I was.
I grabbed his face and forced him to look down at me. For the first time in God knows how long, his eyes locked fully on mine. I got the first glimpse into his beautiful soul - I saw the pain there, the hopelessness, the love. “Do you still love me?” I asked him, running my thumbs along the apples of his cheeks.
He leaned into my hand; the gesture was so simple, so familiar, that the tears that I had been fighting so long sprung free and raced down my face, pooling on my bottom lip. He swallowed hard, and then whispered, “Yes.”
*
June 1st, 2009
Rob,
I’m not really an eloquent writer. I’m not anything like you. But I read over all of your letters last night after I went home, and realized that I never replied to any of them while we were filming Twilight. We’re filming New Moon now, so I’m a little late, but I’m trying to woo you just like you were purposely wooing me, so here goes nothing. Or something. Whatever.
Today would be our one year anniversary. I missed you terribly last night, and I’m sorry that I had to leave. I just felt like it wasn’t right to sleep in your bed after the talk we had. We never really reached a stalemate, and I still don’t really know where we stand. I don’t want to have to sleep next to the man I love without knowing that he wants me there, fully, and that I could be woken up in the middle of the night by his touch.
I have so many things to say that I’m sorry for, so I’m going to write you a letter for everything that I can think of. I’m sorry I ended that sentence on a preposition. You’re probably cringing, so I’m sorry for that too.
This first letter is dedicated to being sorry for all of the big things. First and foremost, I’m sorry for talking shit about you to my girlfriends. I want to justify it by saying that girls just talk shit, especially about the things they love most in the world. But it’s just not justifiable. You are the most beautiful person in the world, and I should only talk about you as such. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be there for you when your Nana passed away, and I hope that one day we can talk about it. I’m sorry that I went to dinner with Michael, and I’m sorry that I tried to hurt you with it. I regretted it the instant it happened because I know he will always be a sore spot between us.
I’m sorry that my mind was so muddled with work that I forgot to actually spend quality time with you. I see now that every moment we spent together was either a)you holding me as I passed out from exhaustion; b)you holding me after I fell asleep during sex…again; c)you reminding me that you loved me, and I would grunt at you. Grunt at you, after you telling me the most central words in my life. And Rob, just so you know, you are amazing at sex, so don’t take me falling asleep personally.
I’m sorry that the laughter stopped between us. I’m sorry that you ever doubted for a second that you were hilarious, because you absolutely are, and I can’t even explain why. You talk in circles about really, really dumb shit, but God, if you are not adorable because of it. Sorry, not adorable. Sexy. I’m sorry that the sex became boring and monotonous, and I’m sorry that I made you feel like you couldn’t voice a complaint about it. I know that’s the second time I’ve mentioned sex, but it’s that important to me.
I’ll write you tomorrow. I love you.
-K
June 2nd, 2009
Rob,
I’m sorry for not appreciating that beautiful massage you gave me. I’m sorry for not even giving you a BJ for your efforts. I’m sorry that I have to be so cold all the time. I’m sorry that I always have to get the last word. I’m sorry that I’m more likely to be sarcastic than loving. I’m sorry that I never wore that beautiful thing from Victoria’s Secret that you bought me. I’m sorry for being so jealous about other girls. I’m sorry that I needed you so badly and never showed you. I’m sorry that I love you so much and always forgot to tell you. I’m sorry I hurt you so badly that someone so beautiful had to cry because of me. I’m sorry that it’s going to take forever for you to trust me again, but I’m not sorry that I’m going to do everything in my power to gain it back.
I love you. Most likely forever.
-K
June 3rd, 2009
Rob,
I’m sorry for writing this letter.
I remember the first time we made love. Do you? I hope you do, because it was the most overwhelming experience in my life. I remember nearly bursting down the door to your apartment - it was easy to do, the apartments they set us up in back then were so shit, do you remember? Michael and I had been broken up for two weeks, and I had read your letter over and over again before deciding to act that night of the wrap party. I’m sorry for banging on your door at 2 in the morning, but I’m not sorry for how adorable and sexy you looked in those disgusting sweat pants and socks.
I remember how you said my name, all broken, and how I had lunged at you and kissed you for the first time as Kristen, not as Bella. I remember how you didn’t ask for an explanation, you just kissed me back and tore my world apart and rebuilt it all in the same instance. I remember wrapping my legs around your waist and I remember you stumbling down the hallway and throwing me on your bed. I remember you asking me if I was sure, and I remember never being more sure of anything in my life.
I remember how your bare skin felt against mine the first time - so warm, so soft, and how I had thought nothing but the word ‘mine’ over and over again as I ran my fingers over it. Even then, I knew that I had to have you forever. I remember the first unsure touch you laid on my skin, and the way your eyes looked the first time your name fell off my lips. I remember telling you to get on with it, and the way your laughter was so breathy and sweet against my face. I remember the way you felt inside of me, the way all of my nerve endings seemed to bow towards you like some sort of magnet. The way you felt then, and the way you feel still, despite whatever circumstance, truly makes me feel like a puzzle piece. Like I have been carved to fit you. I remember the way your face looked the first time you came because of me, and how that face has haunted my thoughts nearly every day since. I remember being able to lay against your bare chest afterwards, and the way you kissed my fingers and ran your hands up and down my spine for hours. I remember how you laughed and planted me on my back for round two after the first time I told you that I loved you.
I’m sorry for the erection you hopefully have.
-K
June 4th, 2009
Rob,
I’m not sorry about what I’m going to do tonight.
-K
*
We were sitting close to each other that night, but not next to each other. There was an outdoor party at Catherine’s house - the wrap party - that actually had to be scheduled a week before the end of filming. The mood was light, and everyone was laughing. I tried to ignore the eyes of my friends - they bore into the back of my head every time I looked in Rob’s direction. They could tell something had changed between us.
I could tell something had changed, too. Rob hadn’t replied to any of my letters, but he would give me a smile every morning after reading them over a cigarette outside of his trailer. It was unfortunate for both of us, however, that his taste week was up and that he was on his last sense - touch - because after he had read the letter of me describing us making love, he had looked up at me with eyes so glazed over with lust and love that I felt like nothing but the strongest will power was holding him back.
Catherine stood up and made a little speech about how she was so proud of us - her usual spiel - and then she asked if anyone of us would like to say anything. Every person turned to face Rob, because he was always the funniest and most charismatic when it came to talking. He grinned and shook his head, and everyone started tapping their forks against their glasses and demanding a speech.
I stood up, and I felt Rob’s eyes on me. “He doesn’t have a speech, but I do.”
“Well, let’s hear it!” Kellan charged, and I laughed.
I could feel the eyes of all of the cast and crew on me, but I looked up and met the only pair of eyes that mattered. “This isn’t about New Moon, but it is about something even more important.” I cleared my throat.
“Kristen?” Rob asked, his voice low.
I faced him. “I suck as a person, but I love you. I don’t care who knows it. I’m not ashamed of anything about you. I want to be with you for as long as you’ll have me around because…” I swallowed, knowing that I was about to give away a huge part of myself, my whole self. I was about to tell him what he needed to hear - I was glad that in my heart, I needed to say it, to declare it to everyone who was listening. “Because I’m yours,” I told him clearly, looking him in the eye. “I’m yours, even if you’re not mine. Even if you decide you don’t want me, I’m still yours. I’ll always be yours. I might pretend to move on and be happy with someone else, but even then, I’d still be yours. You could be doing a movie in, like, Tokyo, and I could be in the middle of Illinois, but even then, I’d still be yours. You could hate me, you could not care, but even then… I’d still be yours.”
I looked around at everyone staring at us. I saw Nikki smiling blindingly, her eyes glistening with tears. Kellan, Ashley, Jackson, Taylor… they were all there too, smiling and waiting for Rob’s answer. They were with me. They wanted us. I turned back to Rob, who was staring at me steadily. I didn’t know if he was breathing.
“You’re mine?” he asked finally, his voice cracking.
“I think that she made that fairly clear,” Nikki cut in. “So stop being so stubborn, fucking both of you, and just be in love so we can all go back to getting a good night’s sleep.”
He ignored that and stared at me. “You’re mine?” he asked again, his voice low, passionate.
I moved over to him, careful not to touch him, careful not to invade his senses. “I am yours,” I whispered.
“Huh,” he said weirdly, nodding his head a bit. Then he looked around us, seeming to just realize that we had an audience. “What the fuck are all you creepers staring at? We can’t make up with you watching; we are not swingers, and if any of you even think about touching her, I’ll kill you.”
*
We made it back to the apartment in a daze. For the first time, we went to mine instead of his. I had felt like it would be wrong of us to inhabit a space that had clearly been ours, during a period in our relationship that had been indefinable.
Rob opened the door with the key he still had on his key ring. Something that little made me smile at him, and he smiled back wordlessly. He stepped in and cried out. “There are my fucking slippers!” He ran over to the Chinese slippers that I never had the heart to move out of the foyer. “I bet you’ve been sleeping with them, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” I said dryly. “I can’t get enough of that Frito-bake smell.”
He actually looked a bit sick at my description. “Maybe it’s time to throw them out.” He began moving through all of the rooms; I followed him, amazed that his presence back into this apartment immediately made it feel like he never left. His voice booming through the rooms felt so natural, so real - his smell invaded the air molecules, and it was like he had come home. I hoped he had.
He paused when he got to the door of our bedroom. He reached out for my hand, and I took it gratefully, loving the way his long fingers felt intertwined with my own. He touching me was definitely cheating his senses test, but I didn’t say a word.
We walked through the door together, and I had to bite back my embarrassment. I hadn’t cleaned it since he had left, so it was… a pile of shit. I mean, it was uninhabitable. At least it didn’t smell bad. Rob looked down at me with a grin. “First thing tomorrow, I’m paying for Merry Maids to come over and give this place a good scrub. I can’t be living in a shit hole, Kristen.”
“Okay,” I agreed, my heart swelling. I could hardly bare to think it - he was staying? For good?
“But for now…” He shoved a lot of random articles from off the bed, then sat down on the edge and began to untie his shoes. The motion was so familiar that it struck the back of my throat, and I had to look away.
“What is it, love?” he asked softly, noticing me.
Love. Love, he called me love. Oh my God. “Are you… here to stay?” I whispered, my fists clenching and releasing in nervousness.
“Kristen,” he said heavily, almost like he was chastising me. “Come here.”
I walked over to him slowly, and as soon as I was in arms reach, he grasped at my waist and pulled us both down on the bed. He rolled us over so he was straddling my waist, and held my face in his big hands. A tear fell down my cheek, and he let it get all the way to my lips before brushing it away, his thumb tracing over my bottom lip.
“Rob…” I started, but his thumb was still on my lips, so I couldn’t help but kiss it. “Why are you touching me? Isn’t this breaking the rules?”
He laughed, and then bent down to kiss me. I breathed out so heavily against his lips that it was almost embarrassing, but he made a noise in the back of his throat as his lips caught mine in his, so I knew that our lips’ reunion wasn’t only affecting me like that. “I very clearly made a loophole in the rules,” he told me between kisses, his body pressing its beautiful weight against mine. “My rule was that I could only touch things… that belong to me.”
I closed my eyes as he brought his kisses down my neck and I whispered I love you so many times that it started sounding like one giant word.
He kissed me again, shortly. “I love you,” he said back to me, his eyes showing me a thousand words that the three couldn’t express. Then his hands wandered farther south, making me gasp against his mouth. “This isn’t breaking the rules, right?” he teased.
I gnawed on my bottom lip. “No,” I whispered. “Clearly, I belong to you.”
“I’m home,” he whispered back.
Hands snaked around my face and covered my mouth. I tensed, frightened - I had been on my way back to my trailer after the airport reunion scene between Bella, Edward, Alice and the rest of the Cullens. It had been one of the easier scenes to film; I, too, felt a reunion on the horizon.
Someone much taller than me pressed into my back, and I relaxed against him as I recognized the shape. He had a very obvious erection that was curving into the small of my back, and I brought my hand around to grasp at it. We kept playing these games - we hadn’t had sex since the night he told me that he refused to treat me like a whore - but that didn’t stop us from making our attraction, our need, well known.
“Careful,” Rob growled in my ear, and then chuckled underneath his breath at my disappointed huff of air. “Just wanted to let you know that the door will be open tonight.”
I hadn’t spent a night in my apartment since then, either. Rob and I began an oddly domestic life again - we slept in the same bed, ate under the same roof, showered under the same stream of water. But those nights were some of the most confusing of my life. Some moments would be tense with an undercurrent of hostility - you left me! Well, you killed me! Some moments were spent doubled-over in laughter - we were finding it easier and easier to make reference to old inside jokes. The hardest moments were spent tangled up in the sheets with him, as he stared down into my face and wouldn’t let me speak all of the apologies that were on the tip of my tongue.
“Gonna give it up tonight?” I whispered, grinding back into his hardness.
He groaned.
*
“Finished?” I asked him as he placed his fork down with a clatter on his plate. I wasn’t the best cook in the world, but I had a pretty simple recipe for fettuccini Alfredo that he had always loved. When we had gotten home that night, he surprised the hell out of me by asking me to make it for him.
A quick run to the grocery store and two hours later, he was leaning back in his chair, scratching at his eyebrow and smiling appreciatively at me from across his small table. “Finished,” he answered.
I stood up to grab at his plate - I was finished, too - and as I took it off the table, I pressed a kiss to the crown of his head that I hadn’t meant to. It was just so out of habit, so something that I used to do after cleaning up after him that it made me stop in my tracks. I heard his small intake of breath.
All of a sudden, it was just too much. All of this shit just felt so fake to me - the domestication of a break up, the stepping carefully around each other, his stupid fucking senses, the fact that he wouldn’t sex me up a little to at least alleviate some tension. The fact that my heart was still broken because I didn’t know if this was just convenient to him; whether or not he would one night lock his door, and I would have to walk back to my car in shame, in tears. Would there ever be a night when I would be able to look at our relationship and clearly think one way or another? Would I be able to look down at him as he was sleeping, would I be able to trace the lines of his crow’s feet and think, Thank God you still love me, too. Or would I have to stare at his locked door for hours and think, oh God, it’s really over this time.
I threw the plates down on the counter and turned to face him so quickly that he scooted his chair back a notch. “Fuck this,” I snarled.
He opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off with sharp strike of my hand through the air.
“I’m about to tell you a whole bunch of shit you’re not going to want to hear, but fuck you.” I ran my hand through my hair - my hands were shaking, but my voice was sturdy. “You’re a fucking idiot. Why won’t you just let me apologize to you so we can stop playing this stupid game and just get back to it? You know that I love you; you know that I have never stopped loving you, not once. You know that every time I have to be around you, it nearly brings me to my knees. So why? Why all of this?”
He stared at me for almost a full minute. “So, I’m allowed to speak now?”
My anger must have blazed through my eyes, because he scooted back some more. “Obviously you are allowed to say something when I ask you a direct question!”
He stood up. “I’m not ready to forgive you yet, that’s why.”
I threw my hands in the air. “So you feel like it’s okay to use me like this?”
He had been on his way out of the kitchen, but that made him pause. He turned his whole body to me gracefully, like he was twirling. “I’m sorry, but who’s taking advantage of whom? I do believe it was you that initiated our little fuck fest, and it was me that had to stop it.”
I stalked towards him - when I reached him, I shoved him so hard that his solid body stumbled. “It might have been fucking to you, but it was never fucking to me. I was with you, so it was because of love. Whether I’m angry at you or not, whether you say nasty, humiliating things to me or not, it’s still you, and I still love you, so fuck off. It’s making love for me, no matter how you look at it.”
His jaw clenched together; I could hear the familiar pop as he ground his teeth. “Lovely,” he spit out, shoving me almost as hard as I shoved him. “It’s great to hear all of this after we’re not together anymore. Maybe if you had been better at loving me, none of this would have happened.”
I screeched in frustration. “I might not be perfect -“
He cut me off. “I was a nervous wreck around you, always. You have always had the upper hand between us, and it made me feel like I had to whisper out of reverence. You got to decide when it was time for us to be together - after months and months of breaking my heart, you decided to finally give up Michael. Which, by the way, you two look just beautiful together. Still. That was a nice little cherry on top of my fucked sundae.”
“Michael and I are just friends. I spent the whole evening in that restaurant looking at our booth, you fucking asshole. I tripped outside, and Michael caught me. I’m sorry you had to find out that way-“
“Bullshit,” Rob argued, getting up close to my face. “You wanted to hurt me just like I hurt you. Well, you fucking succeeded, Kristen. I hope you TiVo’d the expression on my face, so you can go back and watch it in case you need a point of reference of when exactly my heart shattered in five fucking thousand pieces.”
“You broke up with me! Why the fuck should I have to answer to your feelings?” I could feel the tears start to gather in the back of my throat, but I fought them down.
He chuckled without humor. “In case you didn’t notice, the night we did the breakup scene, I waited around by your car for nearly an hour so I could have a chance to talk to you. I was going to tell you that I wanted to try again because as long as you loved me back and were willing to work things out, I couldn’t live without you. But no, you had to act like a bitch, so what choice did I have but to walk away from you again?” He clenched his fists in his hair, bringing it back harshly from his eyes. “Do you remember the thing I said? Ooevoli? I said I love you. Backwards.”
I stared at him a minute, comprehension and hope dawning at the same time. “How was I supposed to know that you were trying to say that?” My voice was a whisper as I took in that I failed him again. I could have had him weeks and weeks ago, but I was the reason that I didn’t have him. Again.
He shook his head. “It hardly matters now.”
“It matters now, more than ever.” My heart started to race harshly against my chest; I felt nauseous. His voice sounded so dejected, so… resigned.
He shook his head again. “I think… I think it’s too fucked up now to be repaired.” I heard the catch in his throat, and I knew he was as close to tears as I was.
I grabbed his face and forced him to look down at me. For the first time in God knows how long, his eyes locked fully on mine. I got the first glimpse into his beautiful soul - I saw the pain there, the hopelessness, the love. “Do you still love me?” I asked him, running my thumbs along the apples of his cheeks.
He leaned into my hand; the gesture was so simple, so familiar, that the tears that I had been fighting so long sprung free and raced down my face, pooling on my bottom lip. He swallowed hard, and then whispered, “Yes.”
*
June 1st, 2009
Rob,
I’m not really an eloquent writer. I’m not anything like you. But I read over all of your letters last night after I went home, and realized that I never replied to any of them while we were filming Twilight. We’re filming New Moon now, so I’m a little late, but I’m trying to woo you just like you were purposely wooing me, so here goes nothing. Or something. Whatever.
Today would be our one year anniversary. I missed you terribly last night, and I’m sorry that I had to leave. I just felt like it wasn’t right to sleep in your bed after the talk we had. We never really reached a stalemate, and I still don’t really know where we stand. I don’t want to have to sleep next to the man I love without knowing that he wants me there, fully, and that I could be woken up in the middle of the night by his touch.
I have so many things to say that I’m sorry for, so I’m going to write you a letter for everything that I can think of. I’m sorry I ended that sentence on a preposition. You’re probably cringing, so I’m sorry for that too.
This first letter is dedicated to being sorry for all of the big things. First and foremost, I’m sorry for talking shit about you to my girlfriends. I want to justify it by saying that girls just talk shit, especially about the things they love most in the world. But it’s just not justifiable. You are the most beautiful person in the world, and I should only talk about you as such. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be there for you when your Nana passed away, and I hope that one day we can talk about it. I’m sorry that I went to dinner with Michael, and I’m sorry that I tried to hurt you with it. I regretted it the instant it happened because I know he will always be a sore spot between us.
I’m sorry that my mind was so muddled with work that I forgot to actually spend quality time with you. I see now that every moment we spent together was either a)you holding me as I passed out from exhaustion; b)you holding me after I fell asleep during sex…again; c)you reminding me that you loved me, and I would grunt at you. Grunt at you, after you telling me the most central words in my life. And Rob, just so you know, you are amazing at sex, so don’t take me falling asleep personally.
I’m sorry that the laughter stopped between us. I’m sorry that you ever doubted for a second that you were hilarious, because you absolutely are, and I can’t even explain why. You talk in circles about really, really dumb shit, but God, if you are not adorable because of it. Sorry, not adorable. Sexy. I’m sorry that the sex became boring and monotonous, and I’m sorry that I made you feel like you couldn’t voice a complaint about it. I know that’s the second time I’ve mentioned sex, but it’s that important to me.
I’ll write you tomorrow. I love you.
-K
June 2nd, 2009
Rob,
I’m sorry for not appreciating that beautiful massage you gave me. I’m sorry for not even giving you a BJ for your efforts. I’m sorry that I have to be so cold all the time. I’m sorry that I always have to get the last word. I’m sorry that I’m more likely to be sarcastic than loving. I’m sorry that I never wore that beautiful thing from Victoria’s Secret that you bought me. I’m sorry for being so jealous about other girls. I’m sorry that I needed you so badly and never showed you. I’m sorry that I love you so much and always forgot to tell you. I’m sorry I hurt you so badly that someone so beautiful had to cry because of me. I’m sorry that it’s going to take forever for you to trust me again, but I’m not sorry that I’m going to do everything in my power to gain it back.
I love you. Most likely forever.
-K
June 3rd, 2009
Rob,
I’m sorry for writing this letter.
I remember the first time we made love. Do you? I hope you do, because it was the most overwhelming experience in my life. I remember nearly bursting down the door to your apartment - it was easy to do, the apartments they set us up in back then were so shit, do you remember? Michael and I had been broken up for two weeks, and I had read your letter over and over again before deciding to act that night of the wrap party. I’m sorry for banging on your door at 2 in the morning, but I’m not sorry for how adorable and sexy you looked in those disgusting sweat pants and socks.
I remember how you said my name, all broken, and how I had lunged at you and kissed you for the first time as Kristen, not as Bella. I remember how you didn’t ask for an explanation, you just kissed me back and tore my world apart and rebuilt it all in the same instance. I remember wrapping my legs around your waist and I remember you stumbling down the hallway and throwing me on your bed. I remember you asking me if I was sure, and I remember never being more sure of anything in my life.
I remember how your bare skin felt against mine the first time - so warm, so soft, and how I had thought nothing but the word ‘mine’ over and over again as I ran my fingers over it. Even then, I knew that I had to have you forever. I remember the first unsure touch you laid on my skin, and the way your eyes looked the first time your name fell off my lips. I remember telling you to get on with it, and the way your laughter was so breathy and sweet against my face. I remember the way you felt inside of me, the way all of my nerve endings seemed to bow towards you like some sort of magnet. The way you felt then, and the way you feel still, despite whatever circumstance, truly makes me feel like a puzzle piece. Like I have been carved to fit you. I remember the way your face looked the first time you came because of me, and how that face has haunted my thoughts nearly every day since. I remember being able to lay against your bare chest afterwards, and the way you kissed my fingers and ran your hands up and down my spine for hours. I remember how you laughed and planted me on my back for round two after the first time I told you that I loved you.
I’m sorry for the erection you hopefully have.
-K
June 4th, 2009
Rob,
I’m not sorry about what I’m going to do tonight.
-K
*
We were sitting close to each other that night, but not next to each other. There was an outdoor party at Catherine’s house - the wrap party - that actually had to be scheduled a week before the end of filming. The mood was light, and everyone was laughing. I tried to ignore the eyes of my friends - they bore into the back of my head every time I looked in Rob’s direction. They could tell something had changed between us.
I could tell something had changed, too. Rob hadn’t replied to any of my letters, but he would give me a smile every morning after reading them over a cigarette outside of his trailer. It was unfortunate for both of us, however, that his taste week was up and that he was on his last sense - touch - because after he had read the letter of me describing us making love, he had looked up at me with eyes so glazed over with lust and love that I felt like nothing but the strongest will power was holding him back.
Catherine stood up and made a little speech about how she was so proud of us - her usual spiel - and then she asked if anyone of us would like to say anything. Every person turned to face Rob, because he was always the funniest and most charismatic when it came to talking. He grinned and shook his head, and everyone started tapping their forks against their glasses and demanding a speech.
I stood up, and I felt Rob’s eyes on me. “He doesn’t have a speech, but I do.”
“Well, let’s hear it!” Kellan charged, and I laughed.
I could feel the eyes of all of the cast and crew on me, but I looked up and met the only pair of eyes that mattered. “This isn’t about New Moon, but it is about something even more important.” I cleared my throat.
“Kristen?” Rob asked, his voice low.
I faced him. “I suck as a person, but I love you. I don’t care who knows it. I’m not ashamed of anything about you. I want to be with you for as long as you’ll have me around because…” I swallowed, knowing that I was about to give away a huge part of myself, my whole self. I was about to tell him what he needed to hear - I was glad that in my heart, I needed to say it, to declare it to everyone who was listening. “Because I’m yours,” I told him clearly, looking him in the eye. “I’m yours, even if you’re not mine. Even if you decide you don’t want me, I’m still yours. I’ll always be yours. I might pretend to move on and be happy with someone else, but even then, I’d still be yours. You could be doing a movie in, like, Tokyo, and I could be in the middle of Illinois, but even then, I’d still be yours. You could hate me, you could not care, but even then… I’d still be yours.”
I looked around at everyone staring at us. I saw Nikki smiling blindingly, her eyes glistening with tears. Kellan, Ashley, Jackson, Taylor… they were all there too, smiling and waiting for Rob’s answer. They were with me. They wanted us. I turned back to Rob, who was staring at me steadily. I didn’t know if he was breathing.
“You’re mine?” he asked finally, his voice cracking.
“I think that she made that fairly clear,” Nikki cut in. “So stop being so stubborn, fucking both of you, and just be in love so we can all go back to getting a good night’s sleep.”
He ignored that and stared at me. “You’re mine?” he asked again, his voice low, passionate.
I moved over to him, careful not to touch him, careful not to invade his senses. “I am yours,” I whispered.
“Huh,” he said weirdly, nodding his head a bit. Then he looked around us, seeming to just realize that we had an audience. “What the fuck are all you creepers staring at? We can’t make up with you watching; we are not swingers, and if any of you even think about touching her, I’ll kill you.”
*
We made it back to the apartment in a daze. For the first time, we went to mine instead of his. I had felt like it would be wrong of us to inhabit a space that had clearly been ours, during a period in our relationship that had been indefinable.
Rob opened the door with the key he still had on his key ring. Something that little made me smile at him, and he smiled back wordlessly. He stepped in and cried out. “There are my fucking slippers!” He ran over to the Chinese slippers that I never had the heart to move out of the foyer. “I bet you’ve been sleeping with them, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” I said dryly. “I can’t get enough of that Frito-bake smell.”
He actually looked a bit sick at my description. “Maybe it’s time to throw them out.” He began moving through all of the rooms; I followed him, amazed that his presence back into this apartment immediately made it feel like he never left. His voice booming through the rooms felt so natural, so real - his smell invaded the air molecules, and it was like he had come home. I hoped he had.
He paused when he got to the door of our bedroom. He reached out for my hand, and I took it gratefully, loving the way his long fingers felt intertwined with my own. He touching me was definitely cheating his senses test, but I didn’t say a word.
We walked through the door together, and I had to bite back my embarrassment. I hadn’t cleaned it since he had left, so it was… a pile of shit. I mean, it was uninhabitable. At least it didn’t smell bad. Rob looked down at me with a grin. “First thing tomorrow, I’m paying for Merry Maids to come over and give this place a good scrub. I can’t be living in a shit hole, Kristen.”
“Okay,” I agreed, my heart swelling. I could hardly bare to think it - he was staying? For good?
“But for now…” He shoved a lot of random articles from off the bed, then sat down on the edge and began to untie his shoes. The motion was so familiar that it struck the back of my throat, and I had to look away.
“What is it, love?” he asked softly, noticing me.
Love. Love, he called me love. Oh my God. “Are you… here to stay?” I whispered, my fists clenching and releasing in nervousness.
“Kristen,” he said heavily, almost like he was chastising me. “Come here.”
I walked over to him slowly, and as soon as I was in arms reach, he grasped at my waist and pulled us both down on the bed. He rolled us over so he was straddling my waist, and held my face in his big hands. A tear fell down my cheek, and he let it get all the way to my lips before brushing it away, his thumb tracing over my bottom lip.
“Rob…” I started, but his thumb was still on my lips, so I couldn’t help but kiss it. “Why are you touching me? Isn’t this breaking the rules?”
He laughed, and then bent down to kiss me. I breathed out so heavily against his lips that it was almost embarrassing, but he made a noise in the back of his throat as his lips caught mine in his, so I knew that our lips’ reunion wasn’t only affecting me like that. “I very clearly made a loophole in the rules,” he told me between kisses, his body pressing its beautiful weight against mine. “My rule was that I could only touch things… that belong to me.”
I closed my eyes as he brought his kisses down my neck and I whispered I love you so many times that it started sounding like one giant word.
He kissed me again, shortly. “I love you,” he said back to me, his eyes showing me a thousand words that the three couldn’t express. Then his hands wandered farther south, making me gasp against his mouth. “This isn’t breaking the rules, right?” he teased.
I gnawed on my bottom lip. “No,” I whispered. “Clearly, I belong to you.”
“I’m home,” he whispered back.