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unattainable fantasy coming to life.
I lean up and kiss you and say the only thing I can without sounding like a horny
creep or some pathetic, lovesick jackass neither of which I am.
"It doesn't matter. I'm thinking about it now."
Your smile says you like this answer a lot. Then you stand up off me, and I worry
that maybe I've blown it until you hold your hand out, and I let you think that you're
pulling me up as I stand.
As you lead me to my bedroom, you say, "You can think about it later. You can do it
now."
You probably don't realize it, but you've just ruined our friendship. Fucking
demolished it. After those words, I'm never not going to be able to look at you as the
sexiest thing I've ever seen.
From now on, I'm going want you in every way you'll let me have you.
|
When my intercom buzzes later that evening, and my doorman announces that
Edward is on his way up, I have a brief moment of panic. I'm dressed in a sports
bra and tattered old men's basketball shorts I was planning on working out with
a video until I got exhausted just watching the intro and sat on the couch eating
cheese instead. I look terrible, and there's this new panic of not wanting Edward
to see me like this, something I've never really felt before. I almost contemplate
unlocking the door and jumping in the shower. But then I remember that time we
went to the pie store downtown, and I ate more than Emmett. I'm pretty sure Rose
and Alice wanted to pretend they didn't know me that day. If Edward can still look
at me after that, he can stand this.
Still when I open the door, the weird crawling feeling in my stomach bursts into
butterflies. As he steps into the apartment, he appraises my ensemble with one
eyebrow raised and I feel hot. Not good-looking-hot, more like I'm-sweating-hot.
But not sweaty-sexy-hot, like sweaty-gross-hot. And maybe a little hot-and-
bothered-hot because damn, that eyebrow thing is really hot (attractive-hot.)
"Workout video," I say, holding up the DVD cover.
"Were you doing it or watching it?" He knows me too well.
I mumble an equivocating answer and watch as he goes to my freezer and takes
out the leftover frozen yogurt from this afternoon.
"How did you know that was in there?"
He laughs. "You had 'hungry eyes' at the store."
I groan, regretting the day I ever told him about 'hungry eyes' the name I gave
my tendency to see food and want to eat it all, leading me too order way too much
and always have leftovers, coincidentally or maybe not so coincidentally
named after my favorite song from an 80s movie soundtrack.
We sit down on the couch, and he digs in the frozen yogurt as I try to watch him as
surreptitiously as possible. I may have a different type of hungry eyes right now.
After a few silent moments spent watching the workout video, he offers me a bite.
I nod and lean toward him, but instead of handing me the spoon, he feeds it to me.
As I lick it off the spoon, I watch him watching my mouth with undisguised,
masculine lust. Something similar rolls right through me, but when his eyes flick
up to mine, I sit back and look away before my mind can continue making
correlations between what I'm doing to the fro-yo and what he has done to me.
We sit there, and I'm suddenly all too aware of my body and its proximity to his as
we watch this rather masculine woman mime bad sex, demonstrating 'glut
thrusts'. He drops some yogurt on his shirt, and I tell him, "You have a little
something here..."
Then I watch, slack jawed and slick mouthed as he bends his neck and lifts the
shirt to his mouth, licking up the spot with one flick of his tongue.
I am marveling at how I can find something as gross as him eating food off his
clothes arousing when he turns and smirks at the glazed look on my face.
"Whatcha thinking about, Bella?" he asks, waggling his eyebrows.
He knows exactly what, or rather when, I am thinking about, and suddenly, the
arousal and frustration and confusion hit me all at once.
"What is your deal?"
"What?"
"The flirting& two nights ago at the bar! After we& you're all& you said I looked
hot& and you came all the way across town& and beautiful tomato! And my virtue!
What is going on with you?" I ask, blurting any and every thought that crosses my
mind until my mouth stops moving.
"I'm sorry, I don't speak gibberish. Only English. Care to repeat that?" He's smiling
slyly, and I know he heard and understood exactly what I meant. I look at him with
my mouth hanging open slightly, and he spoons a chunk of cold cookie dough into
it.
I chew and gather my thoughts. "Since last weekend since the thing since we
did it... since& you know what I'm talking about," I start, unable to bring myself to
say 'since we had mind-blowing, life-altering sex'.
"No, I don't. Could you please describe it to me? In as much detail as possible.
Don't leave out anything," he requests.
I sigh. This conversation won't go anywhere until I can be the rational one, which I
can't do because his eyes keep flicking to my boobs, and I know he's thinking
about what they looked like without any fabric covering them, and now I'm
picturing his face when he saw them that night and how he swears a lot more
when he's turned on and how much that turned me on... this really is not going to
go anywhere until I go put a shirt on.
When I walk back into my living room more fully dressed, I stand in front of him.
He stops shoveling food into his mouth and looks up at me.
"Why have you been so weird since Sunday?" I ask.
"How have I been weird?"
"How have you not been weird? The flirting, the compliments, the pinkies, for God
sakes, what was with the pinkies?" I cry, almost hysterical. I have a brief out-of-
body moment where I see this crazy haired, wild eyed woman shouting at my best
friend about fingers; I scare myself a little.
I'm about to apologize for being so ridiculous when Edward smiles, slightly evilly
in my opinion, and says:
"You liked the pinkie thing, huh?"
I kick his foot and flop down on the couch, sighing in frustration.
"What, you thought you could just blow me off after last weekend? I'm not some
random pump-and-dump chump, Bella."
"What?"
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