A/N: I don't own anything that you might remotely recognize. Other people – like Stephenie Meyer - do.
Oh, and yay for breaking 3 digits in reviews! You guys rock.
This chapter is dedicated to the amazing AHelm for being awesome and her inspiration with helping Edward explain things to Emmett.
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EPOV
With a groan, I rolled over, wincing and trying to pry my eyes open. I'd fallen asleep face down on top of my covers, still in my jeans, and I could tell from the way my muscles had seized up that I'd been asleep for a long time – and I hadn't so much as twitched in all that time.
I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands, cringing at the gritty, gummy feeling that came from watching movies in my contacts for twelve hours straight and then sleeping in them. Finally managing to open my eyes, I sat up and looked around my room, blinking. Sunlight was streaming in weakly through the blinds, but I couldn't tell what time it was.
I pulled my pillow off my clock – I must've shoved it there when I'd passed out – and saw, to my surprise, that it was just before 5:00. I was supposed to meet Emmett in an hour, assuming he'd agreed. I knew he would, though. Emmett never passed up an opportunity to hang out, drink, and find someone to take home.
I blinked a few times, yawning, before I pushed myself off the bed. I left my shirt balled up on the floor and made my way to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. I smiled quietly at the fragrance as my mind slowly awakened, and my smile broadened as I remembered my evening with Bella.
Before long, though, the serious complications I was facing on that front came to mind, and I frowned, heading back down the hall to check my email while the coffee brewed. Emmett had answered and, as always, made me laugh in disbelief.
From: HotLoveMonkey
To: Cullen42
Don't tell me! Alice drug you into some freaky fetish orgy with Bella and Jasper, and it was such a religious experience that you've decided to acknowledge the feelings you really have for me? I knew it!
Yeah, we can meet at 6:00. Stay calm. Whatever you're freaking out about can't be that bad.
And don't even try to tell me you're not fucking freaking out.
-Em
Shaking my head, I gave a short laugh before I stood again, realizing I'd have to hurry if I was going to be on time.
I started the shower to give the water time to warm up and went back into the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee and taking it with me. I didn't always like black coffee, but given the way my head was still fuzzy from the long night and the fact that I would soon be drinking with Emmett, it seemed like a good idea.
I sipped it as I made my way down the hall, cursing when I burned my tongue. Still holding my cup, I unfastened my jeans and let them fall to the floor, standing in my boxers and socks as I finished my coffee.
I grimaced at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were bloodshot, and my face was creased from sleeping on it. I really needed a haircut. But then, I always need a haircut.
Placing my empty mug on the counter, I stripped and stepped into the shower, letting the steaming hot water do the work of relaxing my stiff muscles.
As I stood there, my mind drifted back to Bella, remembering my first sight of her, the sound of her laughter, the scent of freesia…that flirtatious luck.
Fuck.
I was hard in an instant, just remembering the way she had looked at me. I exhaled roughly through my nose, biting my bottom lip in indecision. I couldn't decide if it would be better or worse to indulge myself in fantasies about Bella.
It will just make it that much harder to control yourself around her, you know.
Maybe…but she's the Fucking. Sexiest. Woman. I've. Ever. Seen.
But is it really right to objectify her that way, especially with what you know?
I don't know shit. All I know is that I need a release.
You're a disgusting, selfish bastard.
But…maybe it will actually make it easier to behave?
Shaking my head, I decided to ignore the ridiculous argument and go with what felt right. And…what felt right at the moment was to take care of the raging hard on I'd been dealing with since I first saw Bella nearly 24 hours ago. I breathed one small sigh of self-loathing before I gave myself over to the memories of Bella from last night, weaving them into impossible fantasies as I turned to face the showerhead and took myself in hand.
I leaned forward, bracing myself against the wall with my left palm, my head hanging down as I bit my bottom lip and my breathing became more labored. I pictured Bella – the gentle curve of her neck where it met her shoulders, the way she bit her bottom lip and smiled up at me through her lashes, the succulent fragrance that seemed to envelop me every time she drew near…I didn't even get so far as imagining her actually doing anything. More quickly than I would have believed possible, I reached my release with a grunt, panting as I came down.
I blinked a few times and took a shaky breath before I felt ready to clean up. Grabbing my soap, I let the fragrance of sandalwood and vanilla clear my head, and I rushed to wash so I wouldn't be too late for meeting Emmett.
After washing my hair, I ran my fingers along my jaw, deciding not to shave. I'd just have to look scruffy today. I turned off the water and stepped out, grabbing my towel and drying quickly.
Wrapping the towel around my waist, I moved to the sink and took my contacts out, unable to take the uncomfortable gritty feeling any longer. I smirked as I slipped on my black-rimmed frames, wondering if I could look any worse right now. Even wet, my hair was standing up in all directions, I had about a day and a half's growth of beard on my chin, and – though my glasses were picked out by Alice and were what she called geek chic – I was wearing glasses instead of my usual contacts.
I shrugged and wandered through the doorway into my bedroom to get dressed. I thought for a minute and then, with a silly, self-indulgent smile, I went to my dresser and searched through the top drawer to find my X-Men t-shirt. I ran my fingers along the design, sighing softly as I remembered Bella in her shirt last night.
Fuck, please don't even start thinking about that. Not yet.
I opened another drawer, pulling out a pair of boxers. Removing my towel, I began getting dressed, putting on the boxers and shirt before adding last night's jeans – I smirked as I thought of what Alice's reaction to that would be. I rummaged through my closet, finding my favorite deep green sweater.
Grabbing socks and my shoes, I made my way into the living room, noting that it was already 5:50, and I would definitely be late. I thought about calling Emmett, but he knew me well enough by now to know that – even though I would likely be late – I was coming.
My muscles were finally beginning to limber up, thankfully, and I sat on the couch to put on my socks and shoes. I paused for a minute, raking my fingers through my hair before sitting with my head in my hands, staring at the floor.
What the fuck am I going to do?
I waited, but there was no answer. Fucking fantastic.
Pushing myself off the couch, I grabbed my keys and my phone and headed out the door.
When I arrived at the bar, Emmett was sitting at our usual table, two bottles of beer waiting. He saw me as I came in the door and arched an eyebrow at my appearance, grinning.
As I sat down, he said, "I knew she kept you up all night with the hot fetish orgy!"
"Ugh, Em…you know that's incest, right?" I answered, grimacing as I took a drink from my bottle.
Emmett laughed. "I'm talking about a fetish orgy, and you're more worried that your sister might be part of it." He shook his head, laughing.
Being an only child, Emmett really didn't get the whole sister thing. It wasn't as disgusting a thought to him as it would be if he had a sister of his own.
"And it wasn't Alice who kept me up…" I trailed off, not knowing how to continue.
"Yes. I noticed in your email that you said you just got home from Bella and Jasper's…so…what were you doing there?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively. "Please tell me the reason you look like you haven't slept in days is that you finally got laid."
I laughed bleakly and shook my head, staring straight ahead as I took a long drink of my beer, downing half of it in one pull. When I didn't say anything, I heard Emmett sigh.
"So what the fuck did happen to you then? 'Cause you look like shit," Emmett said bluntly.
"Thanks, Em," I said quietly.
I swear I could hear Emmett rolling his eyes. He exhaled loudly and stared at me until I finally looked up.
"What?" I asked.
This time I saw him roll his eyes.
"You. I haven't seen you this morose since the day I whipped your ass at head-to-head on Guitar Hero 3," he smirked.
Finally, I laughed. He'd beaten me when we were playing "One" because he shouldered into me and knocked me over. "That's what you call a victory, is it?"
He grinned broadly. "Not all of us are working with your natural talents. I have to win how I can." His smile faded. "Now, seriously…what the fuck is going on with you?"
I sighed and began peeling the label off my bottle. "So…I met Bella…"
He waited. When I didn't continue, he said, "Yeah, I got that much from the whole 'just-got-home-from-Bella-and-Japer's' thing."
When I looked up, he was staring at me pointedly with an eyebrow raised. I frowned, furrowing my brow. And suddenly, it just all spilled out. Every bit of it.
I told him about my first glimpse of Bella, the treacherous reaction of my body (he laughed at that, saying only I would consider a hard on treachery), how funny Bella was, my screwing up by saying 'beautiful' aloud…in truth, my screwing up again and again. I described talking to Bella in line at the concession stand, her laughing during the movie at all the weirdest parts, how enchanting she was. Then I told him about the stranger, more depressing things – Bella looking over her shoulder even though Jasper was following her, the cringing away, the panicked look I saw in her eyes…and the way she curled up defensively on the couch. I even told him about the sight of Bella in the X-Men t-shirt and what it had done to me. He smirked at that. But in the end, I came back to that damn poem…
The poem had become a sticking point in my mind – my one major fuck up of the night. Everything else, I thought we could overlook or move past, but that…well, that had the potential for disaster.
I began by saying, "So, for some unknown reason, when she said she was interested in John Donne, I said the first thing that came to mind, which just so happened to be the worst thing I could possibly say."
He motioned with his hand for me to continue.
"There's this poem he wrote – 'Air and Angels'." I knew I'd have to give Emmett a bit of background. He was a math and science guy – poetry was generally lost on him. "And well, I quoted the first few lines to her." I actually blushed telling Emmett this.
"And…?" he frowned at me. "So what? He's a poet, right? She likes him? Chicks like poetry." He shrugged.
I rolled my eyes. "Yes, he was a poet, and yes, she likes him. That's not the point."
Emmett finally grinned. "Ahh, I see…this is what you're freaking out about, isn't it? Why the fuck is this such a big deal? What, exactly, did you say anyway?"
I sighed and looked down, staring at the wood patterns in the table. "I said…'Twice or thrice had I loved thee, before I knew thy face or name.'"
After a moment of absolute silence at our table, I glanced up to look at Emmett. His head was tilted to the right, and he was gazing upward. I snorted. "Need help with the 'thee' and 'thy'?" I smirked at him.
He muttered, "Asshole…I have an impressive vocabulary, but you know I never bothered with that Old English bullshit. Translation?"
I laughed, amused. "It's not Old English, dumbass." My mirth faded as quickly as it had come. "It means…" I sighed. "Roughly translated, it means 'Several times before I ever saw you or knew your name, I loved you already.'" I scowled at the table top.
Looking up finally, I saw Emmett sipping his beer with wide eyes. I waited, not speaking, as I watched his expression become thoughtful.
"Well…" he said, "maybe a little bit…overzealous…but I don't really see the crisis."
I raked my fingers through my hair, frowning as I thought over what to say. The problem was…I didn't think I could explain this one. Not without explaining…well, everything. Why I had stopped taking random girls home. Why I had stopped pursuing women in general. Why Alice thought I was gay. Why I had been celibate for the past year and a half.
And…I would have to explain that this poem – this thing Emmett was so ready to dismiss – had been, in essence, my inspiration.
I sighed. Maybe I could get my point across without revealing everything. I might as well try. And prepare for the incredulous stares and endless teasing.
Just as I was about to speak, Emmett stood. "I need to take a piss," he said. "Why don't you take a few minutes to err…collect yourself," he grinned, "and I'll be back with another round?"
I nodded mutely and watched him walk away, my mind already churning with what I needed to tell him.
At that fateful moment over a year and a half ago, I had been lost in my own self-disgust. When I returned home after trying to repair what damage I could to that poor girl's self-esteem, I had holed up in my apartment for several days, trying to make sense of my epiphany. As I thought through my problem, I began to understand myself a little better.
Of three things I became absolutely certain. First, I was not able to continue on as I had been, simply using girls for my own pleasure. Second, I had to find someone with whom I was completely compatible – someone who stimulated me not only physically but intellectually and emotionally too. And finally…I knew that someone was out there, and I was already unconditionally and irrevocably in love with her.
It was while I was in this frame of mind that I had entered my British Lit class a few weeks later and rediscovered John Donne. I was working on a research paper and, at the time, I'd chosen to focus on Milton's "Lycidas." But during that day's lecture, Dr. Crafton had hit upon "Air and Angels," which I had never read. As I listened to his recitation, I was struck with the perfection of that poem. When I first heard it, the meaning was not quite clear. I simply remember feeling a…a yearning, I guess, as I listened to it. Something within it spoke to me. I wanted to know more, hear it more, so that I could unravel its meaning.
As Dr. Crafton opened up the discussion, I listened as my classmates – mostly English majors with a lot more experience than I had – began dissecting it, arguing over different minor points. The basic meaning, though, became clear.
And it echoed exactly what I already knew.
So I threw myself into my research, learning everything I could about the poem, reading various interpretations, and reaching my own conclusions.
I remember quite clearly the moment the meaning had hit me – really hit me. I was already in bed, lying in my boxers beneath the sheets as I read by the light of my bedside lamp. I was exhausted and had finished reading the poem yet again, and I suddenly realized what the speaker was trying to say. Love, in its purest form, is not something attainable by humans. It has to assume a form that we recognize, that we relate to. And this speaker, lucky bastard that he is, had just found his Angel, the embodiment of purest love that will make him complete. As soon as he saw her, he knew it, without a doubt. That was the meaning of that opening couplet – "Twice or thrice had I loved thee, before I knew thy face or name." I have always loved you, without even knowing it was you I loved…
I sighed, wrenching myself out of my memories and back to the present. When I had seen Bella, the very embodiment of the love I'd been searching for, I'd been unable to control what spilled out. And, at the time, I didn't even fully realize it myself. I'd thought it was just because she's mentioned Donne, but in truth, I would have been more likely to quote "The Canonization" or "The Flea" if that had been the case. I hadn't thought about the poem itself since I finished that paper nearly a year and a half ago. I had tried to let it go, believing that with my questionable past, I would never deserve that love, even if I could find it.
One glimpse of her, though, and I had recognized the love I'd been seeking.
And I couldn't even tell her.
And I nearly ruined everything by blurting out the opening couplet of that poem, a poem she would undoubtedly know better even than I did.
And now I had to try to explain this shit to Emmett.
Fuck.
I sighed and glanced up as he came back, keeping my head down and moving just my eyes. I really didn't think Emmett would get this if I put it in poetic terms, so I tried to come up with something that his brain could wrap around.
He slid a fresh beer in front of me, arching an eyebrow as he resumed his seat. "Now…what is this all about?"
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before I began to speak. "Alright, so you probably aren't going to believe what I'm about to tell you, but I swear, it's all the absolute truth. So just try to keep an open mind, please?"
He looked a little taken aback by my speech, but he nodded slowly after a moment of thought.
He took a sip of his beer and watched me.
"Well, you know how magnets work?" I asked.
Emmett snorted and nodded, clearly amused with this beginning.
"I mean, the way the polarity works…it either repels or attracts, right? And if you find powerful magnets, the push or pull is even greater?" I waited for his confused nod. But I noticed that faint glimmer of understanding was starting to shine in his eyes.
"Well, those are laws of science, nature, whatever you want to call it. They're irrefutable, and unchangeable. A magnet's polarity won't magically disappear just because you wish it would. It's something that lasts forever."
I waited, biting my bottom lip and studying his face. He frowned slightly, his brow furrowed. I was anxious to know what he thought, but there was something else I needed to tell him.
Before I could begin, he interrupted, obviously unable to contain himself on something science-related, "Well, unless you heat the magnet or put it through a solenoid with an alternating current…" He trailed off and gave a faint grin. "But, yes, I know what you mean."
I rolled my eyes at him. "Can I continue?"
He smirked and nodded.
"Well, that's…that's how I feel about Bella. I fucking swear, Em, the second I saw her, I knew. She is exactly what I've been searching for passively my whole life and actively this past year and a half. And…well, the reason I'm freaking out about that poem is that…Em, that's what that poem means. It's about how love – the pure concept of love – takes on a human form so we can recognize it. And once it's found, that's it. It's permanent. The guy that wrote it, he had just found the embodiment of his love, and those two lines I said were the way he declared it. So…you're right. If I'd just quoted a couple of lines of a poem to Bella, so what? But I didn't…I said it because…because…I love her…" I trailed off, nearly whispering as I studied the tabletop.
Complete silence reigned at our table for a long, pregnant moment. Then Emmett exhaled loudly.
"So…" he began. "You're in love with Bella…but you just met her…and you can't tell her…because something happened to her in the past…and she doesn't date…and you're going to do…what, exactly?"
I sighed and shook my head. "What can I do? Nothing, that's what…"
I frowned as the truth of my words sank in. "I guess…I guess I just have to take what I can get. Not let her know how I feel. Be her…friend…" I grimaced, a feeling of abject despondency setting in at the thought of not having anything more with Bella.
"Man, that's bullshit," Emmett declared.
I glanced up, anger pulling me briefly out of my dejection. "What the fuck do you mean?"
"I've never seen you like this. Ever. You're obviously ludicrously into this girl…and you're not going to do anything about it? Bullshit." He shrugged.
My anger smoldered. "Haven't you listened to a word I've said, asswipe? It's not a possibility. Bella's different…there's…well, there's something there. You didn't see her, Em. She…" As quickly as it had flared, I felt the anger drain, leaving weariness and sadness in its place. "God, she kept looking over her shoulder, her eyes all panicked. Like she was just waiting for someone to try to attack her. She's…something in her is broken, Em…hurting. And I just…I just can't risk losing what I can have with her for the possibility of something more."
To my astonishment, I actually felt my eyes begin tearing up. And even more surprising, I wasn't embarrassed. The feelings I had for Bella were so vast and confusing…but caring for her – caring about her well-being – was something I would never be ashamed of. It felt…good to learn this about myself.
When I looked at Emmett, his expression had softened a bit, but his words hadn't. "It's still bullshit. You should at least let her know how you feel."
I was shaking my head before he even finished. "I can't, Emmett. What if she…what if she never wants to see me again?" I worked hard to swallow the lump in my throat.
Emmett raised an eyebrow. "That's a risk you're going to have to take. You can't be a pussy about this, Edward."
I frowned. He rarely called me by my name. "How, exactly, is caring about Bella, wanting her to be happy, and wanting to keep her in my life being a 'pussy'?"
"You're not being honest with yourself. Or with her. I don't think you can be just friends with her," he said.
I sighed. "Yes, I can. I can do whatever I have to to keep her in my life. I don't think I can go without at least being able to see and talk to her, Emmett."
"No, you can't," he said simply.
"And how the fuck do you know that?" I demanded.
"Tell me something…" he said abruptly, "you're wearing an X-Men shirt under your sweater right now, aren't you?"
I felt heat flood my cheeks. "What the fuck does that have to do with anything?"
He just grinned and shrugged, lifting his hands palm up in a gesture that clearly said, "Point made."
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