Chapter 4: the spring dance
When sleep finally claimed me, the world was very dark. What dim light there was seemed to be radiating from someone's skin. I couldn't see the face of the boy in my dream, just his back as he walked away from me – leaving me alone in the inky blackness. No matter how fast I ran after him, I couldn't catch up. Regardless of how loudly I shouted, the boy never turned to look at me.
I didn't realize it was even Edward I dreamt of until I saw the figure, walking away from me, and the surroundings melted into the hospital hallway. Bronze hair perfectly framing his head as he walked away, so fast and with such ease to be far away from me that it punched me in the stomach all over again.
Waking up in a troubled, cold, sweat, I couldn't sleep again for what felt like a very long time. My mind tossing and turning as often as I did under the purple blankets my dad had picked out for me.
Why did I care if Edward didn't want to be friends with me? If he hated me or found me annoying? It wasn't like he was the hot girl in school and I had been dumped. So what if he was more handsome than any movie star I'd seen? Emmett and Jasper were also Handsome; but, I wasn't vexed about not being friends with them!
If punching my pillow could have alleviated any of the stress, I'd have done it more than once. It did no good, he was in my head. His stupidly perfect boyish grin melting into pure venom replayed over and over again in my head. Sometimes it seemed like he wanted to get to know me, and then his friendliness vanished into loathing – it boggled me. Maybe he had been through a lot in his last school? Maybe it was hard and scary for him to make new friends?
Maybe it had something to do with his strange ability to stop vans!? Did he think I was going to forget about that? No! He was going to be asked until he answered me honestly, even if it meant he hated me, I just had to know.
A part of me kept insisting that maybe when I knew how he saved me, I wouldn't keep dreaming about him. Deep down, that was a lie, but I pretended not to notice that. The lie was easier to believe than the truth.
When I fell back asleep, he was there. Always on the periphery, never within my grasp. Walking away from me, running away when I ran after him.
For an entire month after the accident, things were uneasy, tense, and – at first – embarrassing.
To my horror, I found myself to be the center of attention for the entire week. Taylor Crowley was impossible! She wouldn't stop following me around, obsessed with making amends to me. No matter how much I tried to convince her that nothing would make me happier than if she forgot all about it, she wouldn't stop nagging me. She followed me between classes, and sat at the now over-crowded lunch table next. McKayla and Erica were even -less- friendly toward her than they were to each other, which made me worry that I'd gained another unwelcome admirer.
What bothered me more than that, even if I couldn't admit it to myself, was that no one was concerned at all about Edward. Even though I explained over and over that he was the hero who had pulled me to safety and nearly been crushed by the same van, no one seemed to care. Jeremy, McKayla, Allen, Erica, and everyone else at the lunch table kept commenting that they hadn't seen him there until the van was pulled away.
Why had no one else seen him standing so far away, anyway? Before he was suddenly there, impossibly saving my life? With a great deal of chagrin, I realized to myself the most probable cause – no one else was even aware of Edward like I was. No one watched him the way I did...and no one cared whether he lived or died. People avoided him like the plague.
No, they avoided him like he didn't exist.
Despite how nice Alice had been to me, and how Edward had started to talk to me in Biology, they always sat with the Hales at their dreary table by themselves. In the entire week I was followed and asked about the crash, not one person approached Edward. No crowds followed him around, and I found myself feeling envious of them. I just wanted to disappear, but I lacked the gumption to be a jerk to people to do it.
What hurt me the most about that week, was that none of the Cullens – especially Edward –, looked my way anymore. They seemed completely unaware of my presence. Only now and then, when his fists would suddenly ball up near his thighs – skin stretched white over the bones – did I wonder if he wasn't quite as oblivious to me as he appeared. Maybe he wished he hadn't saved me? Or I just bothered him so much he regretted ever meeting me.
I wanted to talk to him more than I wanted to breathe, and the day after the accident I tried. What hurt and anger I had over the bad end to our conversation yesterday had melted into gratitude and I wanted to thank him for saving me.
He was already seated when I got to Biology that day, looking straight out the window. When I sat down, I expected him to turn his chair toward me; but, he showed no sign that he even realized I was there.
"Hey, Edward," I said pleasantly, trying to sound happy to see him without sounding 'too happy'.
He only turned his head, as little as possible to meet my gaze, and nodded once before looking back out the window.
Despite being an idiot and trying to talk to him a few more times during class, unless it was related to the lesson, he didn't acknowledge me. Deep down, maybe I knew why. Maybe it was obvious that I liked him, more than what made sense for me to feel for another guy, and he wanted nothing to do with that.
What could I really do if he -was- okay with that? I wasn't a girl, he couldn't ask me out, he couldn't buy me flowers, I couldn't have real love for him. That wasn't how it was for someone like me. I'd be looked at with disgust forever – the scourge of Forks High. He was probably doing me a kindness by avoiding me, and here I was, ungrateful and distraught to be discarded.
I even resolved myself to that last, courteous, nod as being the only contact I could have with him. Hard as it was to tell myself it was for the best, it was. I wished I didn't obsess over Edward, I wished even that the van had crushed me so I wouldn't realize how much I wanted to be near him. How disgusting I was to want to hold his hand so badly.
Yet, it was no use. I couldn't help myself from watching him, gazing at him, whenever I knew he couldn't see me do it. In the cafeteria, or across the parking lot, my eyes constantly sought him. I watched as his golden eyes grew perceptibly darker day by day, only to become bright gold again after the weekend.
To say I was miserable was an understatement – miserable had been coming here. This? I didn't even know what to call this, but to leave Forks because of how I felt – an even greater agony I couldn't fathom how to cope with. If I left now, went back to Phoenix or moved to Florida or some other school, my mother – who knew every expression on my face – would know I was miserable. She would ask, and I wouldn't be able to lie, and she would know about Edward. No, she would know about me, and she wouldn't understand. I couldn't lose my mother, too.
Charlie didn't ask, which made it bearable to keep pretending I didn't have feelings for Edward, but no matter how much I tried to push him from my mind...the dreams continued.
Despite my outright lies, the tenor of my emails to my mother alone alerted her to my depression. She called me a few times, worriedly, and I tried hard to convince her that it was just the weather that had me down.
"Is it about a girl?" Mom kept bringing up like a throbbing sore.
"No, mom, I'm okay," I would parrot over and over. "There isn't a girl, really."
Renee didn't believe me, of that I was certain, but at some point she stopped asking and I could breathe easy when we talked again. The temptation to tell my mom what happened, to lie to her and make up some female version of his name, toyed at me. But knowing mom, she'd talk to Charlie, and Charlie – knowing there was no such girl in town – would tell her and that can of worms wasn't something I thought I could handle. What would I even call him? Edith? That seemed like a good name, old and outdated as Edward was.
"Listen, sweetheart, if some girl is hurting you," Oh great, she was talking about it again. "You can talk to me, I know what it's like to be rejected," my eyes widened with anger. Of course I knew that, I'd watched her have a string of failed relationships where I gave her ice cream and watched her sob into a pillow. I didn't want to be that, I didn't want to be weak over some boy – or even some girl. I wasn't going to cry over Edward like my mother; the indignant burn I felt consumed me and unfortunately, I lashed out.
"Mom, can you please -just- drop it?! There isn't a girl! And if there was, she doesn't matter, okay?!"
Renee was stunned on the other end of the line, so I spoke before she could chide me for using that tone with her. As I'd never really used that tone on her before except during extremely rare circumstances.
"I love you, but this place just takes time to get used to, okay?"
After we hung up, I squeezed my hand into a fist. Feeling the skin stretch over my knuckles. Unable to stop thinking about how often Edward's hand did the same whenever I did it. Which might be why I was doing it. Catching myself, I softened my hand.
McKayla seemed to grow more confident around me over time, maybe because I wasn't going out of my way to tell her I didn't like her that way. Erica and Taylor were still friendly, but it was obvious they were competing for my attention the same way as McKayla. I wasn't entirely sure why, until Jeremy brought up the girl's choice Spring Dance. Which was only two weeks away, yikes.
The first Tuesday of March was coming fast, but it didn't occur to me that I was a conquest or competition until Jeremy cleared his throat and asked: "Is it cool with you if I ask McKayla to invite me to the Spring Dance?"
Blinking from confusion at -why- I would mind, he seemed just as confused as I was. "Sure, why wouldn't it be?"
"Weren't you...planning on her asking you?"
"To the dance? Oh, no, I'm not going to the dance."
Dancing was glaringly outside my range of abilities, the last thing anyone needed was a concussion from me to spoil a party.
"Are you sure? It's gonna be really fun," Jeremy insisted, and it was so half-hearted a concern that I just furrowed my eyebrows. Somehow I had some semblance of popularity, and I felt like Jeremy fed off of that like a leech more than wanted to be my friend.
"Really, Jer, you have a great time with McKayla, and tell me all about it, after," I encouraged as cheerfully as I could.
The next day, though, I saw Jeremy walking silently by my side between classes. He had been so excited yesterday, and I had expected him to start gushing out words as soon as he saw me. If McKayla had turned him down for the dance, then I was probably the last person he would want to admit that to.
My fears were confirmed during lunch, when Jeremy sat as far away from McKayla as possible. He chatted animatedly with Erica, and McKayla was unusually quiet. She was still quiet as she walked me to class, and I felt like the uncomfortable look on her face mirrored the clouds overhead. Hoping she wouldn't bring up the dance to me, I sat down beside Edward and scooted in.
McKayla didn't walk to her desk, and I was electrically aware of Edward sitting so close to me. I couldn't bear to look at his face anymore, so my eyes drifted to his hands. He was brushing his fingers over the words of our textbook, but not reading them. His eyes were still out the window, and if not for McKayla, I might have kept gazing at those perfect fingers.
"So," McKayla said, looking down to the floor. "Jeremy wants me to ask him to the Spring Dance."
"That's great," I made my voice sound bright and enthusiastic. "You'll have a lot of fun with Jeremy."
"Well," she floundered as she examined my smile, clearly not happy with my response. "I told him I had to think about it."
"Why would you do that?" I asked, allowing disapproval to color my tone, even if I was relieved she hadn't told Jeremy a flat-out no.
McKayla flushed like a tomato before she looked down again. Pity overtook me, but I couldn't stomach the idea of going to a dance with anyone, much less McKayla.
"I...I was wondering if, well, if -you- might want to go with me?" She asked, and I couldn't answer.
Hating the wave of guilt that swept through me at Mckayla's pleading face, for a moment I thought I saw Edward tilt his head ever so slightly in my direction. Unable to bear the idea of turning my head and seeing his glare, I kept my eyes on McKayla as I tried to give her an encouraging smile.
"Oh, no. I'm sorry, McKayla. I'm not going to the dance."
"Why not?" She demanded, and I bit down on my lip. Torn between explaining the safety hazards of dancing with a klutz, or telling her I just didn't find her attractive, I quickly made a new plan in my head and went with it.
"I'm going to Seattle that Saturday," I explained. Which wasn't -exactly- a lie, as I had wanted to go look for new books. If it meant avoiding a dance – it was the perfect time to go.
"Can't you go some other weekend?" McKayla pleaded, and I shook my head.
"No, I've already made plans to go. You should go with Jeremy, anyway, he's been talking about you non-stop."
Mckayla's expression perked up, as though she really hadn't noticed how Jeremy was into her. "I guess," she said, but I could tell her expression was intrigued.
Watching McKayla turn, dejected, to walk back to her seat, I closed my eyes. Pressing my fingertips to my temples to try and push the guilt and sympathy out of my head. Mr. Banner thankfully began talking, so I sighed and opened my eyes to start taking notes.
It surprised me when I thought I saw Edward watching me, and I turned to see him staring at me curiously. That same familiar edge of frustration even more distant as his black eyes drank me in.
Gazing back at him, because he didn't immediately turn away as he had been doing since the accident, his eyelids narrowed with a pensive intensity. There was no question of me being able to look away from him now, and feeling both ensnared and exhilarated, my hands started to shake.
"Mr. Cullen?" Mr. Banner called, seeking some kind of answer to a question I hadn't even heard.
"The Krebs Cycle," Edward answered, not turning away from me to look at the teacher.
It felt like he had questions for me, or he wanted to reach out to me, and didn't know rightly how. But when his eyes released me, thankfully before I had broken into a nervous sweat or had cold chills wash over me, my gaze fell on my science book. A book which mattered nothing to me, right now. It was simply a shield, to hide what a coward I was. Here he was, finally giving me his time of day, and I was hiding behind my hand and pretending to read.
Emotions I couldn't comprehend overwhelmed me – pulsed through me like wildfire or lightning – simply because he took a moment to look at me for the first time in almost six weeks. It wasn't fair how he had this level of influence over me, it was pathetic, more than pathetic – it was unhealthy. Desperate not to reveal how fast my heart was beating, how my brain couldn't bear to focus on anything in the lesson because he was a few inches closer to me than normal, I tried not to look at him with everything that I had.
Sometimes, I just squeezed my pencil, just to feel the sting of holding it too hard to have something else to focus on. It didn't work very well, but it was the only lifeline I had.
When the bell rang, I didn't put away my books or the pencil, I just grabbed it all and held it to my chest. Hugging my textbook too tightly, as if it was a security blanket, and hoping he didn't talk to me before I could escape the classroom. Turning my back to him, as I expected him to leave immediately before I even moved from my desk, when he didn't move I froze. Feeling cold and damp, all the heat in my body draining out into the floor.
"Beau?" His voice shouldn't have been so familiar to me, as if I'd known the sound of his voice my whole life, instead of just a few short weeks.
It wasn't easy to turn to face him – my entire body felt like it was going to topple over; but, I slowly turned to face him. Nothing in me wanted to turn around, because it hurt too badly to look into his eyes only to lose them.
Warily, I watched his expression – which was difficult for me to understand. He didn't say anything to me, and I wasn't sure if it was because he was trying to have pity on me by overthinking what to say, or if he was going to lash out. It seemed easier to beat him to the punch, to snipe at him before he sniped at me.
"What, are you speaking to me, now?"
His lips twitched, as though he was fighting a smile, and it tied my stomach up into little knots. "No, not really," he admitted.
I closed my eyes, inhaled slowly through my nose, aware that I was gritting my teeth behind my lips. Seconds passed, minutes, I hardly knew – he didn't say anything! Just kept sitting there, saying nothing!
"Then what do you want?" I asked, keeping my eyes closed; it was easier to talk to him coherently this way. Helped me not to be lost in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he began, and it caught me off guard. So off guard I opened my eyes to warily stare at his face. "I'm being very rude, I know...but, it's better this way, really."
His face was so serious, it shook me.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied, really hoping he didn't bring up what I thought he was going to.
"It's better if we're not friends," He explained, and his words shattered me worse than I had imagined they might.
"Trust me," Edward almost entreated, probably because my eyes were welling up with water. Weak, pathetic, sludge that I was – unable to stop the swelling of my eyes as they filled with fluid and blinded me.
I turned away fast; but, it was too late. He had to have seen my face, I could feel his eyes on me, like sharp daggers clawing up my soul. Hiding behind anger was easier than admitting my heart was broken, even if it was a piss poor excuse to give myself.
"You know what, maybe you should have thought about that before you stopped the van," I blubbered, water was welling up in my throat, passing it off as mere anger seemed impossible now. "Y-you could have saved yourself from all this trouble."
I could vaguely see through my blurred eyelashes. Edward was astonished, he stared at me in disbelief, but even as I wished I could just storm out right then and there, my feet felt so weak and heavy. They wanted to collapse, drop me into a little ball of shame, which I was far too proud to do, so I just kept standing.
"Do you think I regret saving you?" He asked, his voice almost vehement with anger. Anger I could latch on to.
"I can see that you do, you-"
"You don't know anything," he seethed coolly at me, his antagonistic voice sharp as ice. Why did he sound so insulted?! He acted like I didn't exist!
"How am I going to know anything else when you refuse to talk to me!?" I spat back at him, clenching my jaw against all the wild accusations I wanted to hurl at him.
There were other kids in the room, and they were all staring at me. I couldn't handle Edward staring at me – but the whole classroom? It was too much, and I swept myself out the door to find the closest dark corner I could hide myself in. Only, I caught my foot on the stupid door jam, and dropped all my books.
Standing there, I debated just leaving without them than being laughed at. But he was there, and Edward had already stacked my books and things into a pile. Reaching out, I took my books when he handed them to me, staring hard at his cold; frozen, face.
"Thanks..." I breathed, even though the word came out more icy than I wanted them to.
His eyes narrowed, so I turned, started walking away when he spoke. "You're welcome..."
In my heart I knew I needed to go to gym, but the idea of being seen like this, especially by people who actively talked to me – McKayla being one of them – was too painful an idea for me. Turning left instead of right, metaphorically at least, I shoved into the boy's bathroom and found myself relieved that it seemed to be empty. The doors were ajar, I didn't see any feet under the stalls, and I could take a moment to just breathe.
Just breathe and think about that sorry excuse for a conversation that happened before. What did he mean that it was better we weren't friends. Was it because I disgusted him? If so, why didn't he sneer at me, loathe me, why did he even want to talk to me? Speak to me for no reason at all? Was it because I tried to ask him how he saved me? Was he not allowed to tell how he did it?
I had been avoiding that, because it meant talking to Edward to find out what had happened and he didn't want to talk to me. But the question: why. It haunted me, grated me to my core, and I found myself wishing I could punch something to calm myself. I never was the type, anger usually just made me cry than lash out physically at anything. But no one was here, so I slapped the sink handle on, hissing as pain shot through my arm. I wasn't bleeding, but it would bruise, and the water blazing out of the sink screamed as loudly as my nerves.
"I didn't know someone could hurt themselves on a spigot."
That voice, like rich velvet, haunted me and I looked up from my hand. Edward was leaning against the side wall of the bathroom, near the corner by the mirror, where it made a little hallway to the door.
He caught me so much by surprise, I couldn't say anything; but, his face went from teasing to serious, and I found myself struck so much by his presence that it was all I could do to turn off the sink without dropping all my books in the water.
"W-what are you doing in here?" I demanded.
He furrowed his brow, still keeping his distance from me. "If you want to talk, we can talk."
"Really?" I asked in disbelief, trying to stay angry – stay mad – but his mere presence in the same room made my heart do strange flips in my chest. "Why do you want to talk now? What is even the point if you don't want to be friends with me?"
He looked torn, conflicted, but he didn't answer. The silence was defeaning, so I broke it after shoving all my books in my backpack. Spurred on by the throbbing in my hand. "I know you saved me, I don't know -how- you did, but you did."
Edward cleared his throat. "I had an 'adrenaline rush', you can google it."
"That doesn't explain your eyes," I started, and he narrowed his eyes and interrupted me.
"Pray, what about my eyes upsets you?"
Nothing, honestly. My brain hurt trying to think of an answer. "They don't. Upset me, I mean."
He scoffed out his nose, irritatedly.
"But they change color, you're...more moody when your eyes are dark like they are now."
Edward shrugged, shaking his head. "Florescents effect my eyes differently." He sighed again. "What do my eyes matter, what is the point you are trying to make."
"I know you stopped the van. You pushed it away with your hand.."
His eyes narrowed, staring hard at me. "Well, no one is going to believe you, Beau."
Feeling my hands clench into fists, I couldn't bear to look down from his eyes to see if his fists were balled up too. "I wasn't going to tell anybody...I just need to know...the truth."
"Can't you just thank me and be over it?" It wasn't the first time he'd said those words, or in the very least, it didn't feel like the first time.
Shoving my backpack on one of the dry sinks, my eyelids flickered as I tried to think of a good answer to that. "Thank you."
We stared at each other, for long enough that it was an uncomfortable silence, before he sighed. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"
"You should be walking around in a cast, not" – he crossed his arms over his chest. The way his arms hugged himself, white sweater bunching up around his perfectly covered chest, made me freeze from surprise at how muscular his figure really was.
"Are you really going to Seattle on Saturday?"
The question stunned me, it was so completely off topic that I -knew- he was trying to distract me from the obvious. I narrowed my eyes at him, even as his continued eye-contact sent chills down my spine. "Why do you care?"
"Just answer the question, please," he entreated, his velvet tone so hard to resist.
"Why? You don't answer any of mine."
"McKayla really likes you, you're actually very popular with the girls here. Are you not interested in any of them?"
My chest hurt, I felt sick to my stomach. Why did he care, why did his face look pained? He confused me, and the confusion hit me like a train. "Why do you keep asking me questions if you don't want to be friends?"
He exhaled, slowly, and walked a half-step closer to me. "I only said it would be better if we weren't friends, not that I didn't want to be..."
"What does that mean?" I asked, blinking to try and dispel anymore anger tears from threatening to build again from the confusion.
"It means 'if you were smart, you'd stay away from me'," Edward said, his delicate looking, long, fingers brushing against the wall near the mirror.
"Okay, well, lets say for 'argument's sake' that I'm not smart...will you tell me the truth?"
He shook his head gently at me. "No, probably not."
What did he even mean by 'probably'. Not wanting to leave, even with our voices echoing in boy's bathroom, the awkwardness of having this kind of a talk where it might be overheard made me very uncomfortable. I didn't realize before how much this bathroom seemed to echo, and maybe it was just my imagination, but it felt like his voice was coming at me from all sides. His stupidly perfect, velvet, voice.
"You know, friends are honest with each other, if you can't be honest with me, then-"
He moved closer, and interrupted me. "-I would rather hear your theories. How do you think I stopped the van?"
Leaning against one of the bathroom sinks, the counter actually, I leaned backfor the sake of comfort and studied his face for the longest time. He looked smug, as though this was a game and I could never actually win.
"I don't know – I guess if I really had to narrow it down, I've considered...radioactive spiders, or kryptonite...that you have super powers."
Edward scowled wryly in amusement, before he frowned and hugged himself again. I looked down at the ground, to not look at his chest or anything on accident.
"Ah, super heros," he said, his voice dry, no longer as playfully amused. "Well...what if I'm not the hero..." He paused, and I looked up when I felt his gaze linger on my face. "What if I'm...the bad guy?"
If it was possible to give him a dumber look, I would have. "You're not. You saved me, when you didn't have to. You gained -nothing- from saving me."
"That's not true," he began, but stopped – to my great frustration.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't mean anything," Edward said, and I knew in my heart that wasn't true. But I wasn't bold enough to say the elephant in the room, and if he didn't, maybe we never would.
"Whatever you need to say, or do, to use as an excuse to keep people away from you – you don't need to do that with me. If you want to be friends, we can just...I don't know, hang out."
He furrowed his brows, hardened his lips into a firm line. "We shouldn't."
I knew why, he knew why, but that couldn't stop me from trying. "Why not? Is it your family?"
"No," Edward said, shaking his head; perfect bronze hair brushing against his face in a tusstle. "Alice likes you, the others just don't know you."
"Then we can hang out, if you want to."
Edward avoided eye-contact, watching his own reflection in the bathroom mirror. "You haven't answered my questions, yet."
"Which one?"
"Saturday, the Spring Dance...Why do you need to go to Seattle? Do you...not like any of the girls here?"
"Why do you care so much?"
He swallowed uncomfortably. "Can you just answer the question."
"I can't dance. Last time I tried, I broke an arm... I really don't want to break someone's nose."
Edward laughed, he laughed heartily and loud, and even made something that sounded like a snort, but was too pleasant a sound to find displeasing. But even so, I hated being laughed at, and I could feel my eyes narrowing.
I glared at him, because he kept laughing instead of saying something. "Happy, now?"
"Completely," he said, but then offered me a wry, boyish, smile. "But that's hardly a reason not to go, if you wanted to go with someone."
Why was he not letting this go? Hope filled me, even though I knew there wasn't a reason beyond 'most guys are interested in dances' for Edward to ask me about it. "We're missing class."
He raised an eyebrow. "Would you rather be in Gym?"
I blinked, indignantly. "Who told you I was in Gym for sixth period?"
He scoffed, smugly. "It's a small school. Plus, you leave the cafeteria every day on the way to your car."
Something seemed off, but I couldn't place what that was. "Have you been following me?"
He looked uncomfortable, and scoffed with irritation as he slid his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "Don't be ridiculous."
When I kept staring at him, demanding to know more, he stepped backward and turned away from me to watch the floor. I couldn't really be angry at him if he was following me, after all, I tended to keep an eye out for him, too. I couldn't help myself, but I didn't know how to breach the subject. The way he kept staring at me with curiosity and intensity today didn't make it any easier to forget how he affected me.
"I have to go," Edward finally spat out, in his silken tones. His curious eyes looming on my face for one long moment before he started for the door.
"Wait..."
He stopped, half-turning his head at me. "Yes?"
My tongue suddenly swelled, and I forgot how to speak with his eyes so keenly focused on my own. So hungry to understand me.
When I couldn't speak, he started moving. "M-maybe we can just, hang out, sometime?" I looked around. "Not in a bathroom..."
Edward's gaze softened, his mouth curled into a crooked half-grin, just bold enough that I felt weak in my knees. "Sure, see you later."
It was probably good that he left, my face was so red from embarrassment that it took me another ten minutes splashing my face in the sink to brace myself before I went to Gym. Which of course was a disaster. We'd moved on to basketball, and while my team never passed me the ball – which was good – I fell down a lot. Sometimes, when I fell, I took other students down with me. I couldn't get my head into the game, my mind kept thinking about Edward instead of where my feet should go. What balance I had being shot, I think even McKayla left the gym with a bruise on her knee.
It was a relief, as always, to leave Gym, and I nearly ran for my truck – but the idea that maybe Edward was waiting for me made me stay put outside the door and look for him. I didn't see him, but I did see his car, and I could only hope that he would come out soon. Not that it would make any difference if we gave each other a final goodbye wave, but it was of great importance to me, nonetheless. When he didn't show up right away, and I saw some faces I had hoped to avoid, I started on toward my car.
The Beast was mostly undamaged from the accident, with the exception of needing to replace the taillights. The paint job was so old and faded, it seemed pointless to dress him up with fresh paint when the rest of him looked dingy. Taylor's parents probably sold her van for parts, since I didn't see her drive it again and it was smashed up pretty bad from Edward's hands shoving it away from us.
So it was that I almost had a stroke when I rounded the truck and saw a tall, dark, figure leaning against the driver's side door. As soon as I saw it was just Erica, I started walking again.
"Jeeze, Erica, you scared me."
She chuckled, awkwardly. "Hey, Beau, sorry."
"What's up?" I asked as I tugged my key in the door to unlock it. Had I been paying attention to the uncomfortable edge in her voice, her next words wouldn't have taken me so completely by surprise.
"Uh, I was, uh...just wondering...if you would go to the Spring Dance with me?" Her voice broke into a high-pitched squeak at the last word. Oh no…
"I thought you already asked someone?" I asked, too startled by the question to be diplomatic in my answer.
"Uhm, yeah, I did but Allen said no that he likes Becca and is waiting for her to ask," she admitted with shame and embarrassment.
When I recovered my composure, I tried really hard to make my smile warm and inviting. "Thanks for asking me; but, I'm going to be in Seattle that day, so I can't go anyway."
"Oh," she replied, dejected. "Well, maybe next time?"
"Sure," I agreed, and instantly regret what I said. Please, if there is a God, he wouldn't take that word too literally.
Erica slouched as she walked away, back toward the school. Opening my car door, I was about to slide inside when I heard a chuckle. A very familiar sounding, alto, chuckle. Edward was walking past the front of my truck, looking straight ahead, his lips pressed together. Jumping inside my truck, embarrassed that Edward had overheard that, I turned on the engine and backed out into the aisle of the parking lot. My engine loudly screaming with life as I prepared to start driving – only to step on the breaks.
Edward was in his car already, two spaces down, and he had just slid his car out in front of mine with expert grace – completely cutting me off! The parking lot was too crowded and small to pull around him to leave campus. He just stopped there – no doubt to wait for his family, who were walking this way. With worry, I realized there was a line forming behind me of other teens wanting to go home, but Edward's volvo wasn't moving.
Directly behind me, Taylor was in her recently acquired old Sentra, waving at me, but I was too stressed out and aggrevated to acknowledge her.
While I was sitting there, looking everywhere but at the car in front of me, I heard a knock on my passenger side door. Glancing over, I saw Taylor there waving at me. One quick look to my rearview mirror revealed that her car was still beside me, and it was still running, with the door left open. Leaning across the cab, I rolled the window down half way and gave up.
"Sorry Taylor, I'm stuck til they move," I said, pointing at the silver Volvo in front of me. Annoyance filled me, as I hated that I was being treated like I was responsible for this hold up in the line when I wasn't. People were already starting to honk behind Taylor's car.
"Oh, I know – I just wanted to ask you something, while we're trapped here," she grinned, and I felt my stomach grumble with nausea.
This could -not- be happening.
"Will you go to the spring dance with me?"
Good Lord, it was. "I'm not going to be in town, then, Taylor," my voice was sharper than I meant it to be. I had to force myself to remember that it wasn't her fault that McKayla and Erica had used up my quota of patience for this question.
"Yeah, McKayla said that," she admitted.
I couldn't help it and seethed at her, hardening my mouth in a firm line. "Then why are you asking me?"
She shrugged. "I was hoping you were just letting her down easy."
"Sorry, Taylor" I said, working to hide my irritation, but given the worry in her eyes she probably saw it. "I really am going out of town."
"That's cool. We still have Prom, after all."
She walked away before my eyes got a chance to fill with the rage of irritation that I felt, which was perhaps a mercy to her. My whole face felt like it was on fire – what was it with all the girls here? Why were they all wanting to go to this stupid dance -with me- anyway?
The shock kept plastering my face as I looked forward to see all the Cullens – Alice, Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper, sliding into Edward's Volvo. In his rearview mirror, Edward had his eyes on me. He was unquestionably shaking with laughter, as if he had been able to hear everything that Taylor had said to me and found it hilarious. What was so funny about this?! A part of me was tempted to hit the gas and ruin the back of his bumper; but, there were too many witnesses here.
Just when the temptation to ruin the silver paint on that car made me rev my truck's engine, they sped away, and I carefully drove home. Muttering to myself angrily the whole way to the Thriftway grocery store.
When I got home with ingredients, I decided to make chicken enchiladas for dinner tonight instead of tomorrow. It was a long process, and it would distract me. While I was simmering onions and green chilies, the phone rang. I was almost afraid to answer it; but, it might be Charlie or my mom.
It was Jeremy, and he was ecstatic. McKayla had caught him after school to ask him to the Spring Dance. With relief, I celebrated with him briefly while I stirred the contents of the saucepan. Never one to talk for long hours on the phone, I encouraged him to call Allen and Logan to tell them. Even suggesting – with casual innocense – that Allen, the shy boy who had Biology with me, could go with Erica to the dance if Becca was busy. Logan, who was a standoffish guy who had always ignored me at the lunch table, could go with Taylor since I heard she was still available. Jeremy seemed to think those were brilliant ideas, and now that he was sure of McKayla, he actually sounded sincere when he wished I would go to the dance. I gave him the same Seattle excuse that I had been spewing forth all day.
After I hung up, I tried to concentrate on dinner – dicing the chicken to be precise; but, I didn't want to take another trip to the emergency room. My head was spinning, trying to over-analyze every word Edward had said today. What did he mean by 'it's better if we aren't friends?' Why keep bringing up who I'm going to the Spring Dance with?
My stomach twisted as the reminder of what he could have meant swam over me. He clearly must see how absorbed I was by him, and he must not want to lead me on. What could we really do, anyway? He was a guy, I was a guy, how I felt wasn't okay – the shame I felt was more than I could bear...and I could only imagine how embarrassing it would be if Edward called me out on how wrong and broken I was. Of course he wasn't interested in me – gross, weird, Beau.
It scared me how bold of an interest I even had, for anyone – much less a boy – given that I had never been interested in anyone before.
I had no choice, really. Either I left him alone, pretended I didn't feel what I felt, so we could both go on with our lives without horrifying embarrassment and shame, or he would be my friend for a little while...find out that I felt more than admiration...and end the friendship more painfully then. I only had to be here for a while, so I would get through my self-imposed sentence of purgatory and then hopefully go to some college in the southwest – maybe even Hawaii would offer me a scholarship. I focused on daydreaming of palm tree leaves swaying in the breeze as I finished setting up the enchiladas and put them in the oven.
Charlie seemed to be suspicious when he came home and smelled green peppers; but, I couldn't really blame him. There wasn't a mexican restaurant around here, at least none that I knew about. However, being as he was the police chief, even if it was just a small town role, he was brave enough to take the first bite. He seemed to like it, which cheered me considerably. It was fun to watch as he began to trust me in the kitchen, and it was nice to make Charlie's day. We weren't as close as mom and I, but that didn't mean his opinion didn't matter to me.
"Hey, Dad?" I asked when we were almost done eating.
"Yeah, Beau?"
"I just wanted to let you know that I want to go to Seattle in two weeks. A week from Saturday, if that's okay?" I didn't want to ask permission, as I felt it set a bad precedent, but it felt rude not to when he -was- my father.
"Why?" He sounded so surprised, as if he were unable to imagine something that Forks couldn't offer.
"I just wanted to get a few new books – the library here is really limited – and maybe look for some new clothes," I had more money than I was used to having, since Charlie had bought me the Beast. Not that the truck didn't cost me a heaping helping in the gas department.
Charlie grimaced mildly, finishing a bite. "That truck doesn't get very good gas mileage," he mentioned, echoing my thoughts.
"I know, I'll stop in Montesano and Olympia – Tacoma if I have to."
"Are you going by yourself?" He asked, and I couldn't tell if he was suspicious I had a secret girlfriend, or just worried about car trouble.
"Yeah."
"Seattle is a big city – you could get lost," he fretted, and it felt strange to hear his concern.
"Dad, Phoenix is five times the size of Seattle. I can read a map, and call you if anything happens."
He paused for a moment. "Do you want me to come with you?"
Horror filled me at the thought of being alone with Charlie for hours in the police cruiser, and then having my dad around while I shopped.
"Well, I mean, if you -want- to, but I'm probably going to be in dressing rooms all day. I wouldn't want you to be bored."
His mustache twitched, and he scowled at me. "I don't like the idea of you going alone in that truck."
"I'll be okay, really, I've been in worse scrapes than shopping by myself."
Charlie's expression waned, and I didn't know exactly what he thought about, but he gave the matter some thought and nodded. "Call me when you get to Seattle, and before you head home."
I smiled at him. "Course, thanks Dad."
Just when I felt safe to finish the last of my plate, he spoke again. "Will you be back in time for the dance?"
Oh God...only in a town this small would a father know when the high school dances were. Horror filled me, all over again, and I set down my fork.
"No – I mean, I don't dance anymore, Dad," I explained. He, of all people in the world, should understand that. After all, I didn't get my balance problems from Mom.
He did understand, and cleared his throat with a chuckle. "Oh, that's right," he realized, and the subject changed before he went back to watching TV, and I went upstairs to work on my homework.
The next morning, when I pulled into the parking lot, I deliberately parked as far away as possible from Edward's familiar silver Volvo. More or less because I didn't want anyone to notice how I felt, especially him. Clamboring out of the Beast, rain already drizzling, I fumbled with my car keys to lock it when they shot out of my hand. With all the grace I had been blessed with, my keys flew right toward a puddle of mud – only to stop with a swishing sound because a white flash caught them. The surprise jerked me upright – Edward was right next to me, leaning casually against my truck.
"How do you do that?" I asked with amazed irritation.
"Do what?" He held out my keys as he spoke. As I reached for them, he dropped it into my palm.
"Just...I don't know, 'appear' out of thin air?"
Especially when I had parked this far out to avoid him…
"Beau, it's not -my- fault that you are exceptionally spastic," he teased, his velvet tones quiet and muted.
Scowling at his perfect face, his eyes were light again today – a deep, golden-honey color. Losing myself, when I finally snapped back to reality I had to look down, to reassemble my thoughts.
Rain, it was raining, we were getting wet. I started walking away from the Beast and he casually padded with me.
"So, what was with that traffic jam yesterday?" I demanded, intentionally looking away from his face.
"A little bird told me Taylor wanted to ask you to the dance, I had to give her her chance," he said with a bemused snicker.
My eyes narrowed. So he stopped on purpose – not for his family, but because he enjoyed seeing me flustered and embarrassed?
"You..." I gasped, grimacing, not able to think of a bad enough word I felt comfortable saying to him. The heat of my anger felt like boiling under my skin, but this – of course – added to his entertainment.
"What?"
Something like a growl seethed from my lips. "Are you – trying – to irritate me to death?"
To my chagrin, Edward chuckled – loud and heartily before he stopped. "Of all the things most likely to kill you, I doubt irritation is high on the list."
For a moment, I stopped walking and looked at him square in the eye. "You wanna bet?"
Edward practically snorted trying not to laugh. His palm covered his mouth, and when it moved a cheeky half-grin was slathered over his mouth. "Oh, Beau, you are utterly absurd."
It was strange how strongly my palms tingled; how badly I wanted to hit something. I loathed being laughed at, teased, and since I met Edward I couldn't remember being this angry. Clearly, I was some joke to him, someone he could mock and tease, and I hated his stupidly beautiful laughter completely in that moment.
"Ugh..." I huffed, not able to think of anything better to say or do before I stormed off.
His irritatingly fast feet easily caught up with mine. "I'm sorry – that was rude of me," he said with sweetness to his tone, and I ignored him as we walked. "I'm not saying it isn't true," he continued. "But, it was rude of me to point it out."
My feet came to a halt. "What do you want, Edward? Did you just waltz over to make fun of me?"
Expecting him to snicker, hot air puffed from my nose when he scowled worriedly at me. "I wanted to ask you something, but you side-tracked me," he said with a quiet chuckle. His good humor returning when curiosity began to wane my anger.
"Well, I was wondering, if..." Edward stopped, taking my jacket-covered wrist in his hand, and tugged me behind one of the buildings. Alone with him, almost falling over on my face from the unexpected detour, continued. "I was wondering, if...a week from Saturday – on the day of the Spring Dance..."
Any person might feel elated that a person they were obsessed with possibly asking them to a dance; but, he was a boy and I was a boy– we couldn't be seen in public together! He couldn't possibly like me that way! So why was he bringing it up? Was this some kind of sick joke? Clips of 'Carrie' filled my head, of the poor girl being at prom with pig's blood falling all over her. That was the kind of thing I expected, and fear paralized me enough that I was desperate to stop him from talking.
"S-stop – stop talking, p-please." He did, but confusion splashed onto his face, his confusion hurt me, but I couldn't stop the words from rambling out of me. "W-what are you doing? I-is this some kind of sick joke?"
His face looked as stunned and mortified as I felt, stupidly painful tears pricked at my eyes as I couldn't bear to keep looking at his perfect face. He couldn't possibly -mean- to invite me to a dance, we couldn't possibly go together. No one valued or approved that sort of thing, and the idea that he could even -suggest- being my date in this small-town, gossip-heavy, climate tortured me.
Biting my lip too hard to try desperately not to keep welling up tears like a moron, I tugged my arm and tried to storm off. He didn't let me go, and my clumsy feet fumbled on the cement with a comically loud squeak of my shoes.
Strong, delicate, hands caught me. Everything in me shook with sharp zaps of electricity at being in any way held by Edward. Being so close, in his arms, even for a second was too much for me to handle. I didn't cry like a baby, thankfully, but the water remained, pain remained. It didn't matter how good it felt to be near him – I couldn't be. We shouldn't be this close to each other, I was sick – demented – my dad would send me away to some purity school if he found out about us.
He didn't let me go, but he seemed to be shaking, too. Cautiously, I looked up at him through the tears in my eyes, and he wasn't breathing. He seethed; frozen, and I found myself to be terrified at what looked like complete hatred and disgust.
He knew, he knew how I felt, and he hated it. I was just a novelty to him, the same as I was to the girls at this school. What better to talk about than an exchange student from Phoenix? A gay exchange student from Phoenix. The word sickened me. Gay. No, I wasn't gay – I couldn't be gay. Lying to myself was the only thing I could do, because that word was used so negatively that it shamed me to use that word to describe myself with.
But still he didn't let me go, even as he helped me to stand back up, and moved as far away from me as his arm could reach. Was it a moment? Ten minutes? It felt like he had held me forever, and it wasn't enough. I wanted to be back in his arms, and it crushed my soul so much that I tugged away pathetically at the grip he had on my arm. To think, he wasn't even touching my skin, and I was fumbling into a sad, disgusting, mess.
What were we even talking about?
Oh, right, me. The joke.
"W-we need to get to class," I finally croaked, my wet and watery voice exposing me.
Edward stayed very still, still holding his breath, before he let go of my arm. I shook; trembling like a leaf. Desperate to not be tortured, I started to turn, and his voice halted me.
"Beau, wait," he entreated, so softly, but my heart was wounded.
"What?" I asked, with far more venom than I felt. All in the effort to cover my voice from sounding wet and sapy.
He hesitated. "When you go to Seattle, that day, would you like a ride?"
Confusion floored me. "A ride?"
Edward softly nodded. "Your truck can't possibly get very far without burning a hole in your wallet."
For some reason, I felt a strong need to defend my poor Beast. "He'll be fine."
He clamped his eyes shut, and I could tell he was irritated; but, he rubbed his temple and continued anyway. "Beau, I'm asking if you want to drive to Seattle...with me."
Was he asking to hang out, as friends? My muscles relaxed, and for a moment I could pretend I hadn't just humiliated myself. He -was- trying to be my friend, not put me out on display as the freak of Forks high. Guilt struck me, for thinking so badly of him. I wasn't entirely sure why I had assumed the worst; but, I have always been on the pessimistic side of the spectrum.
"Oh," was all I could muster to say from surprise. "Don't you want to go to the dance?"
My brain did not compute, and I could feel my eyes blinking fast; trying desperately to recover my senses from the confusion soaking my brain to mush.
Edward laughed, of all sounds, and his chuckle made my stomach twist all over again. "Not really, we get enough crowds at school – don't we?"
I swallowed, but the knot in my throat didn't go away. "W-well, if you're sure you don't want to go..."
He touched my hand, and icy flames flew through my nerves, rendering me speechless.
"I'm sure," He reassured me, his mouth held half-open as though he wanted to say something else...but the bell rang.
We were going to be late to class if we didn't move. My eyes lifted to his, and he gazed back at me in silence. He was gazing at me pensively, hung between happiness and sadness, and I couldn't tell which one was stronger.
"Class..." he whispered, before he floated away from me and vanished around the corner.
Leaving me alone, in the rain, wishing he hadn't left and we could have stayed in that moment a little longer…
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