Outside the box by SexyLexiCullen
Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. Outside the Box story line and dialogue are property of SexyLexiCullen.
My feet were dragging and my head ached as I let myself into my apartment. It had a been a long day at work, and I really needed a drink. No thanks to those bad ass fucking kids. I'm a kindergarten teacher at a private school here in New York City. The pay is decent, but not nearly enough to live in this God forsaken city.
Yeah, it's a shit-hole.
I know what you're all thinking. I thought the same when I wanted to escape a smaller shit-hole over in Washington State.
"New York City, wow! That place is so cool..."
It's an overflowing metropolis filled with the rudest fuckers on the planet.
The apartments are shitty too.
I remember thinking I'd get this loft, have loads of space, and maybe pick up painting.
I have a one-bedroom apartment and when I watch television I am usually armed with a flip-flop. Killing cockroaches has turned into a sport of sorts.
It's an often misconception. You watch television and see that favorite character of yours that lives in New York City. The one that has a great apartment, wears trendy clothes, lives on the upper East side, and yet works a minimum wage job—as like a barista at StarBucks or the cashier at Trader Joe's—keep in mind that it's all phony. Unless, said minimum wage slave with the nice clothes moonlights as a prostitute at night.
That could happen.
I've thought about it, but with my luck Benson and Stabler would catch me. They'd put a stop to my trick turning fast, and then uncover that my pimp Tito runs an underground slave ring.
No. That was last week's episode.
I cradled my head as I stared at the bottle of vodka on my coffee table. Not only will I have the Law & Order theme song stuck in my head for hours, I will have to drink warm vodka.
I needed ice.
Too bad I made a beeline for the couch, and didn't plan on moving in the immediate future. I was just THAT tired.
I gave myself twenty minutes, and then rose from the couch. It was already ten after six. It was getting late, and unlike most Friday nights I have a date. Yes, my pitiful existence I call life was looking better already.
When my friend Rose told me she knew the perfect guy for me, I didn't believe her. I still don't. She set me up on some blind date, like you see in movies. One can only hope that my Lifetime melodrama will turn into a romantic comedy.
My life is not a melodrama.
It's dreadfully boring.
My usual Friday night includes: watching television, masturbating, and checking my Facebook page numerous times. All while I flip my middle-finger to those with interesting status updates.
I'm a hater too.
And why the fuck would you check Facebook if you're out having a good time?
I'm looking at this blind date as free dinner, nothing more and nothing less. It's stupid to get your hopes up.
Why is it stupid?
Well you asked for it.
Well no, I'm trying to tell a story here, so I might as well just give it to you. I'm sure you all like plot and such.
Wrong again. There really is no plot. I'm boring, and I'm not that deep or complex either. I'm average looking at best with a decent rack. I have brown hair and brown eyes, and I am a cynic.
Every man's dream.
I had a decent childhood, followed by an awkward adolescence. Maybe one day I'll get into that or why they called me Skid Mark in high school.
Gotta build that angst.
I also have loving parents, who wish I would go out, forget my name and get laid—or get married and give them grandchildren.
They are very supportive.
I'm not damaged.
What was I talking about again? My blind date, right.
As per Rosalie, exhibit A—my blind date—is a colleague of her's. He is a lawyer, whereas she is a paralegal, but it's not about Rose.
Rose who doesn't shit where she eats, so she's pushing her co-worker off on me. Supposedly he's gorgeous, thirty-two, has never been married, and has no kids.
Yeah, I'm sure you're all thinking EXACTLY what I am thinking. Successful, good looking, single, and has no kids—what the fuck is wrong with this guy?
There has to be something wrong. Perfect, single men in their early thirties simply do not exist unless they are damaged or highly fucked up in some circus freak type of way.
I have no idea. I have a can of mace and a right hook if he's some kind of pervert. If he's my wet dream and I'm suddenly the luckiest bitch on the planet, I'll shave my legs.
After swatting a cockroach with the latest edition of "Ok" magazine, I dragged my tired ass into the shower. I washed, shaved my legs, did some pube maintenance, and then rushed to blow-dry my hair.
I kept it simple, styling my bangs to the side and keeping it straight. Then I put on some make-up to make my dull features more pronounced.
To be clear I don't have self-esteem issues. I just tell it like it is.
Since this dude is a lawyer, I thought I'd go with casual, yet sexy attire. Meanwhile, I looked as though I was going to a job interview. I must really want this job because I was showing some tit.
I wore a white short-sleeved button down blouse with a tight, black vest over it. Along with a black pencil skirt and some high heels.
Looking at the final result in the mirror, I decided I'd lie. I'll say I came straight from work. Being dedicated to your job is always a good attribute, right?
"Fuck it." I gave myself the middle-finger in the mirror and then spritz some perfume in the air, so I could walk thru it. Then I put some behind my ears, on my wrists, and gave one quick spritz to the cooter before I walked from my bedroom.
Getting laid in this city is like its state lottery.
Hey, you never know.
When I entered the mid-town bistro, my head whipped to and fro. I gazed at the tables nearby, looking for a single gentleman. Sadly, I came up short.
"Can I help you?" The hostess asked.
I nodded. "I'm here to meet—uh—um," I felt like such a dumb ass as I dug my cell out of my purse. I went to the last text message Rose sent me.
Be nice to Emmett. He's a good guy—Rose.
"Emmett!" I stated proudly while I still stared at my phone. His number from where he texted me earlier to meet him here was not set in my phone. I felt dumb asking what his name was via text.
"Emmett?" She questioned.
I shrugged, wondering what the problem was. Emmett isn't exactly a common name. It's not like I said Jose or Mike. Who the fuck names their kid Emmett?
"McCarty?" She questioned again.
I shrugged again. "Yeah, sure." I figured I'd take a quick peek and if he's busted or not the Emmett I was to meet, I'd high tail it out of here. Rose said he'd be wearing a blue, pin stripe suit with a yellow shirt. That I remembered. He too was coming from work.
I also like me some pin stripes.
"He's here already—I'll show you to the table," she gave me a saccharin smile and came from around the podium.
I followed her into the dining room, and as soon as she stopped my heart beat sped up. My eyes landed on Emmett and fuck me sideways if he wasn't a total babe. He rocked those pin stripes. He had broad shoulders, short black hair, and when his eyes landed on me they twinkled—I swear to God they did. Plus, he smiled widely with two rows of perfect white teeth, and a dimple on each cheek. Did I mention he had blue eyes?
"Here you go. Your server will be with you shortly," the hostess pulled out my chair, and bless his sexy heart, Emmett stood up while I sat down.
"Hello," he had a very deep voice.
"Hi." I swallowed, and looked to my place setting.
"I'm Emmett," he reached to shake my hand.
"Bella." I replied, not wanting to give his hand back. It was huge and his fingers looked like small dicks hanging from his palm. I wondered how big his actual dick was.
"Rose said you were beautiful," he smiled.
I snorted. "Lies. All lies." My snort turned into a chuckle. "She told me you were..." I stopped talking. We can have bread before I embarrass myself.
"Right," he nodded. "Would you like a drink?"
My ears perked up. "Several. If that's cool with you."
He laughed. "Awesome."
I grinned to myself while I looked at the menu. This wasn't so bad. Sure, we both have that awkward wave around us because we don't know each other, but he's hot. At that moment I looked back to him as he studied his menu.
What the fuck is wrong with him?
"What are you getting?" I asked. "I've never been here before."
"T-bone. They have some great steaks." He flashed me a Colgate smile while I wondered how sexy he'd look gnawing said T-bone to the bone—or me. "What are you leaning towards—I'm sorry," he slumped his shoulders. "This is weird. Look, I don't usually go on blind dates." He scratched his brow.
"Me neither." I rushed out.
He nodded. "That's what they all say..." he smirked, and I squirmed in my seat. I began to think him perfect. No, that's not possible, but I really wanted it to be. "So you're twenty-nine," he picked up a bread stick. "Gorgeous. You have no kids, and you're single—Oh, and you're in education, right?"
I shrugged. "Sort of. It's glorified day-care with minimal learning. As long as the kids are alive at three, I've done my job."
"Kindergarten." I giggled. "But I live for those kids," I lied.
Those loud little assholes give me migraines.
"And you like kids too...So what's wrong with you?" He leaned towards me. "Crazy ex-boyfriend? Are you bi-polar? What?" He laughed.
I laughed too, and wanted to run off into the sunset with him. "Um...I don't get out much, and...I'm eternally cynical with a potty mouth." I was honest and it felt wonderful. "I shouldn't be teaching kindergarten either, but I guess that's a given. What's your deal?" I asked.
He shook his head. "Work takes up a lot of my time, and I've been extremely unlucky in the female department, landing one specifically. It just never seems to work out," he looked pensive.
"Huh..." I nodded.
"Good evening," the waiter said.
I turned to smile at him. Then I looked back down to my menu. Our waiter was gorgeous, extremely gorgeous in that ruggedly handsome way. Then I had to glance back up to him. He was just—wow.
When I rains it pours...
I really need to get out more often.
He had green eyes, auburn hair, stubble on his chin, messy hair that looked fucked up, and yet it was perfect. He had high chiseled cheek bones, a strong jaw, and what looked like a lazy crooked grin that might just be permanent.
"I'm Edward and I will be your server for this evening. Can I start you off with some drinks?" He smiled at my tits.
My smile became wider and I sat up straight.
"Bella?" Emmett asked.
"Oh—right." I bit my lip. "Grey Goose and cranberry juice for me." I said.
"I'll have a—" Emmett's phone rang while he searched his pockets for it. "Glenfiddich neat, please."
"Great. I'll be right back with those." Edward hurried away. I tried not to watch him go but it was hard. He had a nice—
"I'm sorry, I have to take this—Mom?" Emmett answered his phone. Then he shook his head smiling while he waved to it, like "mothers, you know?".
I threw out a fake laugh and waved my hand too, like "yeah I get it". 'Cause it's perfectly normal for your mother to call you while you're out on a date.
"I'll be right back," he mouthed, standing from the table. "No...I'll be home early." I heard him say as he walked away.
"Jinkies," I mumbled to myself. I cracked the case, like that nerdy bitch Velma.
I figured out Emmett's flaw. He lives with his mother.
"First date?" Edward asked as he placed our drinks down.
I went for mine quick to gulp some down. "How could you tell?"
"I've been a waiter for a while. You can tell. You're all tense and wide eyed—I can feel the anxiety coming from you. And your date, well—he looks exceptionally boring, and nervous as well."
"We're a match made in heaven, actually." I smiled up to him. "I have high aspirations for him."
"Oh really?" Edward folded his arms across his chest.
"Yeah, he's good enough to be my first baby daddy. Don't you think?" I winked.
He winked back down to me. "I think you could do better than that. I'll be back for your orders shortly."
I gave him a salute, and sipped my drink. "Hey, Edward," I caught him before he could get too far. "Bring me another one?"
He nodded, while I sipped my drink some more.
I swear. I am not an alcoholic. This isn't one of those stories either. I just really needed more booze.
"Sorry about that." Emmett came back to the table. "She just likes to keep tabs." He sat down.
"You—uh, live with her?" I asked.
"Oh God no." His eyes widened.
I blew out a breath. "Oh..."
"She just likes to keep tabs—calls every Friday. That's all." He sipped his drink. "Damn. I needed this." He took another sip. "Are you close to your parents?"
I shook my head no. "Not really—they stay out of my way, and I them. We're good though."
"Are we all set?" Edward came back to the table. He grinned down at me and I found myself smiling back.
"Are you ready to order?" Emmett asked.
I nodded. "I'll have the grilled chicken and the baked potato. A salad with ranch, and oh! Broccoli." I looked to Emmett. "I like broccoli," and I was officially even more boring than earlier if that was possible.
"T-bone. Medium. Side of fries." Emmett said.
"Can I interest you in an appetizer?" Edward asked.
I shook my head no.
"Do you like shrimp?" Emmett asked.
"Um...yeah, I guess." I nodded.
"Cool—two shrimp cocktails." He smiled at Edward.
After that it went right back to boring and informative. Emmett spoke about his job a lot. He's currently working nearly eighty hour weeks. He hopes to become a partner in the near future, and has a full case load. He's a defense attorney, and I blocked the rest out when Edward distracted me by bringing another round of drinks to our table.
Then we spoke more about our families over shrimp cocktails and my salad. Emmett's father owns a construction company out in New Jersey, where he is originally from, and his mother is a home maker.
I briefly described the small shit-hole town of Forks, Washington. My summers in Phoenix with my mother, and my father, Forks' chief of police.
Then I lied and told Emmett I had a lesbian experience my freshman year at Washington State. He's as boring as dog shit—I'm not good at analogies—but I'd totally fuck him anyway. He's hot like that, so I tried to up the ante and look adventurous. There's no need for me to go into what really happened. My freshman year of college truly consisted of studying, beer, and horrible sex with a few morons.
"...that Sheldon is a really funny guy." Emmett guffawed. "Promise me you'll watch it."
I laughed politely. "What's that show called again?"
"Big Bang Theory," Edward said, placing our plates down.
"You watch? Isn't it hysterical?" Emmett asked Edward.
Edward nodded. "I hope it's all cooked to your liking. I'll be back soon to check on you."
"He's a cool guy," Emmett said as Edward left the table. "I'll be sure to leave him twenty percent—or maybe eighteen since he keeps checking out my date."
"Nuh-uh," I laughed, and wished I had more than a twenty dollar bill or some change. If Emmett doesn't leave a good tip, he's not getting any from me. Then I started eating again, in hopes we could have a little quiet time.
Being a boring, cheap tipper is not the worse thing in the world. He was still doing well. The conversation was still forced it seemed, and I wished we could get out of here.
"How's the chicken?" He asked, just as his phone started ringing again. "Dammit," he placed it to his ear. "Hello? No, I'm busy at the moment—can't you—No, no—No!"
I knit my brows together as I stared at him.
"You're serious? Fuck—Oh excuse me," he looked to me. "Not not you—I can't believe this—alright. I'll be there in twenty."
That had my attention. I stared at him, wondering what was going on.
"I—I—I'm sorry," he wiped his mouth with a napkin. "I have to head back to the office. My associate uncovered—"
I put my hand up, finding this amusing. "It's fine. This is boring, so you had a friend call with an excuse. I get it. No worries." I downed the rest of my drink.
"Oh...fuck. Bella, that's not it at all. I wish I could go into detail about why this is so important, but I can't—I'm so sorry."
I laughed. "It's fine."
"No...it's not fine." he grasped my hand. "Tomorrow night. We'll do this again. You, me—wherever you want to go. Wait—I have Yankee tickets for tomorrow. I was going to take my buddy, but fuck him. Do you like baseball?" He looked so nervous, so genuine, and still so damn sexy. I believed him. He really didn't want to go.
"I do. Baseball is cool." I said.
"Great!" He seemed relieved. "I don't have to wear a tie either," he pulled his. "Rose gave me your number, so I'll call tomorrow? The game starts at seven. Um...we can try dinner again before?"
I nodded. "I'd like that."
"Thanks, beautiful." He bent low to kiss my cheek. "I'll call you tomorrow." He stood straight and then counted out a few bills to throw on the table. "Stay—finish your dinner." He ran his thumb along my cheek before he walked away from the table.
I sighed, staring down at my food. Then I flagged Edward down. He came over to the table with a look of concern etched on his face.
"That was short," he said. "Let me guess. Something urgent came up, and he said he'd call tomorrow?"
"What are you? Like the Freud of first dates?" Okay, so that made no sense to me too. "I'd like to wrap up these dinners please." I sipped my drink, making that unattractive slurping noise with the straw.
"The T-bone as well?" he asked.
I nodded. "He barely touched it. And I live off a teacher's salary—so...bag it up." I tilted my head back for the last drop of alcohol. The ice came to hit me in the face but I didn't care. I managed to get that last drop of Goose.
"You're a teacher?" He asked.
"Me too." He smiled. "I work here Fridays and Saturdays to pay my car payment."
"What grade?" I got excited. Us teachers are a rare and dying breed. Not to mention that we're also sick fucks.
"I teach 9th and 10th grade English."
I snapped my fingers. "I'd kill for a gig like that—kindergarten." I pointed to myself.
"Where?" He asked.
"That preparatory school? It costs an arm and leg to go there, and yet they can't give out a decent salary?" He shook his head.
"It is what it is, and I don't have a car. I take the subway and have limited needs, so I'm good. Where are you?" I looked around, wondering if he was busy. While we spoke he actually took Emmett's abandoned seat.
"A. Philip Randolph. It's uptown too. In Harlem."
I winced. "Public school?" Then I let out a chuckle. "Are you a hero there? The cool, young teacher who will shape the minds of tomorrow?" I continued to laugh. "You're really here to make money for school trips, so that maybe you can make a difference?"
Then I sang the opening bars to Coolio's Gangsta's Paradise in my head.
"That movie "Dangerous Minds" completely changed my life." He said sincerely.
I nodded. "I totally get it. That's a deep movie."
He laughed. "No. That's bullshit. I don't give a damn about those kids. My goal every day is to live till three and make it to the subway without getting jumped." He sighed. "I started out that way, though...wanting to actually teach, but those kids don't pay attention. I try everything," he sat back.
"Hey buddy," some dude from a neighboring table shouted. "Can I get some ketchup?"
Edward turned to grin. "No."
I snorted a laugh.
"Just kidding," he handed over the ketchup from our table.
"You're a New Yorker, I'm guessing." I said.
He nodded. "Born and raised. And you're from Washington, right?"
I sat back. "Were you spying on my date?"
He shrugged. "I kept waiting for him to fuck-up, so I could swoop in and save the day. Then I'd dazzle you with my charm and wit." He winked. "How am I doing?"
I pursed my lips. "Not very well. You've yet to offer me another drink, and you haven't said shit about my outfit." I gestured to my clothes.
He fought a smile while he leaned in close. "I get off in two hours, and then maybe I can buy you a drink." He pushed some hair away from my cheek. "And that outfit? It would look better on my floor."
This guy was killing me. How did he know that I go bananas for cheesy innuendos? "That was horrible." I lied.
He leaned back. "It was." He agreed.
"Where should I meet you?" I asked.
His eyes riveted back to mine, and then he smiled again. "How bout I pick you up?"
"This is New York City." I said. "Tell me more about you, and then maybe I'll tell you where I live—first date basics. Ready, set, go!" I laughed.
He nodded. "Okay, I'm thirty, recently divorced. I share a two bedroom apartment with my best friend—that's a lie," he waved his hand. "Sorry. He has a one bedroom and I sleep on his couch. I'll be moving in with my sister this week, though. Not like that's any better. Um...I play the piano at open mic nights all over the city. I have maybe fifty bucks in my bank account, and I'm relatively harmless." He looked down. "I barely have my shit together," he went to get up to leave.
"Family?" I asked. "Did you hear about mine?"
His cheeks flushed scarlet. "I couldn't help myself. Um...my father is chief of surgery over at Mount Sinai, and my mother is a perpetual ball buster. My sister works at some law firm, wasting her potential away, just like me. Unfortunately for my parents—we're a disappointment," he shrugged.
"Join the club," I giggled. "Could be worse though, right? I could have totally been a hooker and you a crackhead. Why'd your marriage fall apart? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
"We were together eight years, and then she found out she liked pussy just as much as I do."
"Ouch." Note to self: Don't lie about steamy, none existent, co-ed experiences. "You're just fucked all over aren't you?"
He raised his eyebrows. "It was worth a shot." He looked down. "Take care of yourself...I'll grab your check."
I placed my hand on his. "287 West 119th Street, just off of Claremont." I said. "Apartment 1A." I ran my hand up his forearm. "I'm sure you're familiar with the area. You want my number too?"
"Fuck yeah..." he stared at my lips while he licked his. Then he snapped out of it so we could exchange numbers.
He may not have much going for him, but he was so damn good looking he made my stomachache. I was ready to screw him when he was just a waiter, but now that he's a starving teacher like me, I wanted him even more.
"Do you believe in love at first sight?" He asked.
I shook my head no. "No."
"Neither do I." He stared at me.
I pulled him closer. "I believe it takes a few nights." I stood up, using him as leverage. "We should work on that."
He stood up too. "Definitely." He gulped.
I pointed to the money on the table. "Should be all there—we'll work on a tip later too." I ran my finger across his chest.
"Fuck," he breathed.
"I'll see you soon, Edward." I grabbed my shit, and didn't bother with the leftovers. As I walked towards the exit, I swayed my hips a bit too and refused to turn around. I knew he was watching me, and that made me smile so wide. I didn't feel boring.
Truth be told I felt sort of superior. I may not have a lot of money, but most of my ducks are in a row, and I have my own apartment.
I used the twenty I had to take a cab home.
As soon as I got home, I ran around the apartment and tried to tidy the place up a bit. Just as I was about to attack the sink full of dishes, my phone rang. It was Rosalie.
"How'd you know I'd be home?" I asked.
She scoffed. "I was called into work. The whole firm is here for that high profile case I was telling you about. Also, Emmett asked me to call. He feels like shit—but it's true. He had to come in. Whatever they found is going to win us the case."
"What is it?" I walked into my bedroom.
"I don't know. I'm hiding in Emmett's office while I paint my toenails. Isn't he amazing?"
"No." I whispered. "I mean...he's hot, and cool...and dull."
She gasped. "How is that possible? He's perfect and totally hilarious. I thought you two would have hit it off. He's got those idiot frat-boy tendencies you love."
"That you love...not me. Why aren't you dating him?" I asked.
"Fuck...if I didn't work here I'd jump on that. Interoffice dating just isn't a goal of mine. What are you doing now? When I get out do you want to go get shit faced in the village?" She laughed.
"I have plans." I said proudly. "Another date—kinda."
"What?" She shouted.
"I know," I became giddy. "Yesterday I had none and now I have two. Count them. One and two." I did a few Kegal exercises for no reason.
"Emmett told me you have a date with him tomorrow."
"So?" I shimmied out of my skirt. "I'm big pimpin', bitch!"
"When is this date? It's almost ten O'clock and where are you going?" She asked.
"In like an hour or so. I don't know where we're going. When he gets here we'll decide—"
"He going to your apartment? That sounds like a booty call to me." She whispered.
"Please," I grabbed a pair of jeans out my closet. "This guy is so hot I would have let him finger fuck me at the table—he works at the restaurant."
"Where'd Emmett take you anyway?"
I wracked my brain for the name. "Bistro 61?" I said as I bent low to put my pants on.
"No way...my brother works there."
"That sorry sack of shit you always talk about? The one with..." I stopped talking. "You've got to be kidding me." I palmed my face. "The one whose life is like a bad country song?" I asked.
Rose laughed. "Yeah him...he's annoying as fuck too. You're lucky you're an only child."
"Well...um...he should be here in an hour." I mumbled.
"Who?" She asked.
"Edward—he should be here in an hour."
She barked out a laugh so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear. I finished changing my clothes while she calmed down. "I'll give you $50 if you blow him—do something. Please!"
I paused, widening my arms as disbelief set in. "Is today sponsored by the letter "P"? What is the deal with prostitutes?" I shouted out.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." She said.
"Neither do I, apparently." I looked at myself in the mirror, and again I looked extraordinarily ordinary. Blah. "So tell me about him. What do I do? Give me some pointers? I know he's had a hard time, but he's not like crazy or anything, right?"
"No...he's just as fucked up as most people. He's also brutally honest. He has a no bullshit policy or something, but most times he just ends up offending people. I can see you two having some boring sex. He'll call and you'll wish he hadn't, and by Monday your life will be back to normal. Unless you hit it off with Emmett tomorrow or you push it with Edward...um...he's a dud. Although he might be just as boring as you are. Emmett—go with Emmett. He has money."
"If you like Emmett so much—"
"Just drop it—fuck, I gotta go." The line went dead.
An hour and half later, after I did some dishes and changed my clothes again, there was a knock at the door. I had a feeling it was Edward, but I didn't have to buzz him in, so I looked through my foggy, dirty peep hole to make sure.
"It's me," he said.
"Me who?" I teased. Meanwhile, I was kind of nervous. Since I've lived here I have only had one other male here. But he doesn't count since he's just my good "fucking" friend.
Jacob Black is a guidance counselor where I teach. We went out on one date, then became friends, and then fuck buddies. He wants more. I think he's too sensitive, and haven't gone near him in months. The sex was okay, though. I'll give him that much.
Nevertheless, there should only be one bitch in a relationship, right?
Right. I nodded to myself and opened the door wide. He looked amazing. He wore a fitted black t-shirt and some dark wash jeans. The jeans hung low on his hips and the shirt accentuated his torso. He wasn't muscular like Emmett. He was more on the lanky, toned side, but still hot. His hair was just as messy as earlier, but now it looked wet.
"Is it raining?" I asked.
"Shower," he pointed to his head.
"Hoping to get laid?" I asked.
"Yeah...can I come in?"
"Yeah," I stepped to the side. He walked in and I closed the door after him. "Am I dressed okay?"
He raked his eyes down my body. "You'll do—this is a great place," he jerked his thumb.
I pulled my t-shirt away from my body. He wasn't being as flattering as he was earlier. Plus, I had changed into some yoga pants. They make my ass look better, well smaller that is.
Note to self: eat less carbs and maybe exercise a little more.
Those jeans I put on were so tight they threatened to cut off my circulation.
"Are you sure? I can change." I said. "Where are we going?"
He picked up the bottle of vodka off my coffee table. "Wherever you want, and you look beautiful." He put the bottle down. "You order Grey Goose, but you drink the cheap stuff at home?"
"It always fascinates me...the things we do when we're out and the things we do at home. Take diet soda for example. Those assholes will berate you for forgetting their lemon wedge, but do they take the time to cut a lemon at home, just so they have a wedge for their soda? I highly doubt that."
"Wow," I said, having absolutely no idea how to respond to that. "You think a lot."
"I mean...I'd say it's a luxury, going out to eat and all, and getting what you usually don't have at home, but in this day and age? Come on...sometimes vodka is just vodka, and maybe one out of ten assholes will actually squeeze the lemon into their soda." He shook his head. "But God forbid if you forget it."
"Rough night?" I asked.
He nodded. "I don't know what's worse."
"Well..." I rocked back on my heels. "When was the last time a lemon squeezing asshole tried to kill you?"
"You've obviously never had lemon juice squirted in your eyes—its happened." He pointed to his eyes. They were a darker shade of green.
"Ahhhhhhhh!" He let out the loudest, girlish scream. It made me jump at the same time he did. He jumped up onto my couch. "What the fuck is that?" He pointed to the floor, just to the left of me.
I turned and then I was up on the couch with him. This wasn't the usual suspect of cockroach. It was a water-bug and it was huge. They come about every once in a while, but they really disgust me. "It's a water-bug."
"Ugh! I know what it is...fuck," we ducked in unison as it flew around the room. "Go in the other room. I'll handle this—ah!" He screamed again as he took off his sneaker.
"I thought you were born and raised here?" I asked.
"On Park Avenue." He said swinging his sneaker.
"Damn...why are you so broke then?" I asked.
"My father is a stingy—fuck!" He jumped up, and like my personal Superman he smashed the bug dead on my ceiling. "He paid for my college, and then it was sayonara daddy's wallet." He threw his sneaker down and took a breath. "God damn."
"That was awesome." I said as I hopped from the couch.
"I didn't get to hear the reasons why you were single." He said.
I stuck out my tongue. "There's not much to tell. I'm just single. Most of the guys I meet are losers—fuck. I mean..."
"It's cool. I am a fucking loser. You'd be better off with Gordon Gekko." He ran his hand through his hair.
He looked so torn, and then I remembered all the other things that Rosalie had told me. She didn't go into too much detail or maybe she did—just like with Emmett earlier, I tend to drown people out with errant thoughts, and mild disinterest. She did say that if she was him, she would have killed herself.
Now that's fucked up.
"He's a lawyer. Emmett doesn't work on Wall Street." I said. "I know Rosalie."
He looked to me confused. "My sister?"
"Rosalie Cullen." I sat down on the couch. I also grabbed the bottle of vodka, and then I unscrewed the cap to take a small swig. It burned all the way down, but instantly relaxed me.
"How?" He held his hand out for the bottle. "There are approximately nine million people in this city, and you know my sister. Was this a setup?"
"Oh yeah...cause Rosalie cares so much about you that she planted me in your restaurant." I shook my head no and handed the bottle over.
"No...she wouldn't do that." He threw his head back to sip from the bottle.
"When I first moved here, I didn't know that I wasn't supposed to talk to people. I usually don't talk to anyone, but sometimes I say random shit to strangers..." I waved a hand. "Anyway, we were waiting for the same bus."
"Which bus?" He gulped from the bottle again.
"The M86? I had to go over to the East side—I don't remember why. She was polite, and looked at me like I was nuts. Then some old lady fell in the street and we both almost pissed ourselves laughing. I started telling her my life story, and she wanted to be my first friend here in the big rotten apple."
"Nice." He sat next to me. "So what happened to the old lady?"
"I don't know. I wanted to help her, but then your sister told me not to. Someone else called the paramedics, and that's it."
"That's horrible. You two laughed at some elderly woman and then left her on the sidewalk?" He chuckled a bit.
I pushed his shoulder. "Excuse me, mother Theresa. What would you have done?" I asked.
He widened his arm, placing it on the back of the couch—kind of like he wanted to put his arm around me. "As a seasoned New Yorker, I would have kept walking and pretended that I didn't see it."
"How is that any better than what we did?" I asked.
"I wouldn't have laughed. If I didn't see it, it didn't happen—" he palmed my face. "You're so pretty, and if it was you I would have helped you up."
"Thanks." I nodded. "I still would have laughed at you."
"You're honest. I like that." He inched closer.
"Thank you." I caught a whiff of him. He didn't smell like...french fries anymore. He smelled like cologne and fabric softener. "You're very jaded and bitter—I like that. It suits you."
He nodded. "I've got but a few dollars in my pocket—nothing to offer you. I'm me, take me or leave me."
"Now you're depressing me...and isn't that from Titanic?" I asked.
He winced. "Yeah...sorry about depressing you." He took his arm back to pick up the "Ok" magazine with the dead cockroach on it from earlier. He hadn't noticed it yet, and I waited, wondering if he'd scream like a girl again when he saw it. "No shit...Bobby and Whitney are at it again?"
I stared at his toned forearms, nearly salivating. I don't know what it is with me, but I've been a "glass half full" girl all day, instead of being my usual "who the hell drank half my soda?" self.
I guess it was the draw they both had, Edward and Emmett.
Emmett was as boring as a bag of rocks—that's better than some dog shit—yet seemed happy, and I still would have done the nasty with him.
Edward I find to be charming, cynical, and very depressing, like Oscar the Grouch, only hot and doesn't live in a garbage pail. Damn. He's not far from pail status, though.
He's sexy, and he could probably use some nookie to brighten his day.
On looks alone they both scored a ten.
Plus, as I am quickly approaching thirty, I have learned to take things in stride. I have also lowered my standards immensely over the last year.
So Edward and Emmett were both winners in my book.
But who did I want to screw more?
Edward is here now.
Emmett may not call tomorrow. Huh?
Yes, they are both "one night stand" worthy.
And I wondered how much Rose would give me if I screwed Edward. I need a new Ipod.
Relax. It was a joke. Sort of. I really wanted to pork Edward, and like I said, I need a new Ipod.
"Did you still want to do something?" I asked.
He closed the magazine and jumped back, but he did not scream. "Uh...yeah, sure. Do you have anywhere in mind?"
"My bedroom." I sat up to straighten my shoulders.
He raised his eyebrows and swallowed loudly. "The—the bedroom?" He asked. "Is that a new club or..."
"My bedroom," I jerked my thumb. "You know...for like, sex?" I'll admit that I am very immature, but do I really have to spell it out for this gorgeous, thirty year old man? He's so handsome, he should be used to this. In fact, he shouldn't even be depressed. Women should just drop to their knees to suck him off, just because he's so damn beautiful.
How did the tables get turned around? There I was feeling superior and now I feel as though this God-like creature is slumming it.
Well fuck that. "Edward?" I prompted.
He stared at me dumbly, and then nervously chuckled. "Wow...that's pretty straight to the point."
I nodded. "Well...you figure we'll sit around for a while, drink some more of this vodka, and then wake up tomorrow in my bed anyway. This way we can leave out the hangover. We're both busy adults and all...and I don't cuddle. So this gets you out of spending the night, and trying to sneak out in the morning...Oh, and crowding my space." I pursed my lips and then drew a box around myself. "Besides fooling around, I prefer for people to stay outside the box," I drew it again.
"But of course if you have high moral standards or certain religious beliefs then I get it...no...your sister is a whore."
He laughed out loudly. "Yeah, she is."
"And you admitted you showered in hopes to get laid."
"That's not the only reason I shower."
I nodded, grabbing ahold of his hand. "Yeah, okay..." We stood up and I led him towards my bedroom.
"I shower every day." He said.
"I believe you." We were now in my bedroom.
"No...well the way you said it...it was like you didn't believe me." He rationalized.
"That's the bed..." I pointed to nearly the only thing that filled the room. Did I mention that I live in a sardine can?
He gazed at it and then looked back to me. I took off my shirt as a reply.
Like I told Rose earlier, yesterday I had no dicks and today I have two. I was going to take advantage.
"-and these are my breasts." I reached back to unclasp my bra.
"Hold on...what the hell are you doing?"
"Um...how are we going to fuck with our clothes—" he cut me off with his lips, and I swore I saw stars or something. I even made a conscious effort while I sucked his beautiful face to pick my foot up. There were fireworks—or those could have been gunshots—No, they were fireworks.
He kissed me passionately as he led us over to the bed. He was finally taking control now, and it took everything inside of me not to push him down and have my wicked way with him. We kissed for what felt like forever. Until I was literally panting and rubbing myself on him for some sort of contact.
"Touch me," I whimpered, pulling away and catching my breath, as he began to kiss down my neck. He kissed all the way down to my breasts and cupped them both in his hands.
"Fucking hot," he breathed, tweaking my nipples with his thumbs.
"Yup," I pulled his head to my chest. He began to groan and growl as he bit my nipple to lick it between his teeth. It felt absolutely amazing, and I inched my lower half towards him a bit. He caught the hint, and ran his fingers along the rim of my pants. Soon, he wasn't only in my pants, but under my panties too. His mouth continued to pleasure my chesticles, while his finger twirled around my clit.
"Oh God...Edward," I stiffened. With my mind racing back and forth between Emmett and Edward I wanted to make sure I said the right name. I did, so it was all good.
He stopped to pull my pants all the way down. I let him do it and scooted myself further up onto the bed. I was all naked now, and my body is what it is. I'm semi-content with it, so I didn't try to cover it up.
He stared with his chest heaving as he took off his shirt. The pants followed after, until he crawled up beside me clad in his boxer briefs. His movements slowed then. He was gentle, and gave my body loving caresses as he kissed me slower. When he started to kiss down my neck again, I felt a sudden wave of nervousness hit my gut.
"I never do this—I never even date." I whispered. "Haven't had a one night stand since college."
He picked his head up to look at me. "Who said it had to be one night? And everyone says that shit."
I grinned. "I know...but I mean it."
"You want me to stop?" He leaned away.
"Fuck no." I pulled him back. "I just didn't want you to think I was some whore."
"Good." He nodded. "Cause I can't afford to pay you."
"Oh..." I did not expect that answer. "I meant like loose—not like you had to pay me."
He chuckled. "I believe you...now can I go back to kissing you? This might just be the highlight to my year."
I jut my lower lip out. "This isn't a pity fuck either." I stiffened again. Why the fuck did I have to say that?
He leaned his forehead to my chest and I was afraid he was going to get all emo on me again. Or ramble on about other beverage garnishes. "My life wasn't always shit." He rolled over to his back.
I bet Emmett would have hit it and ran back home to his mother. That would be better than this shit. No. Those kisses along were amazing. I inched towards him again.
"I bet it wasn't..." I placed my hand on his chest. Then my lips followed, and the more I kissed him, the more relaxed his body became. He placed his hand on my head, and I felt slight pressure as he pushed it down. I fought against it as my brain started to work overtime. Was he playing that emo garbage, just for a blow job?
I decided to meet him halfway, so I slipped my hand into his boxers and grabbed his dick. It was quite wide, and when I peeled the boxers back I was surprised by how pretty it was.
When I began to stroke it a loud moan came from his lips. "Your hand feels great."
I fought against my own moan, cause I did want to suck it, twirl my tongue around it, and take it back deep.
"Come here," he whispered.
I let go of his cock and nestled into his side. "It's really nice," we both admired it. "You're a great kisser too, and quite possibly the hottest guy I've seen since I've been in New York," I smiled, wanting to cheer him up a bit.
"-and this isn't a pity fuck?"
I laughed. "I have proverbial cobwebs down there," we both stared at my bare crotch now. "Actually, it's like you're slumming it."
He stared intensely into my eyes and shook his head no. Then he hovered over me fast. "You're gorgeous." He pecked my lips. "As is this body," he bit my collar bone. "As is your soul," he kissed where my heart is. "You're a beautiful person, Bella—uh—what's your last name?"
"Swan," I sighed.
"Do you believe in second chances?" He stopped what he was doing, and I had enough.
I sat up, pushing him even further away, and stared at him hard. "Are you fucking kidding me? Why can't we fuck? I don't wanna hear about my soul and your last therapy session. I. Want. To. Fuck." I stated.
"I don't go to therapy." He shook his head.
"Well maybe you should—this wasn't a good idea."
"I think we have a connection, and I'm trying to build on that. What's the problem?"
I slumped my shoulders. "I'm a horrible person. I laugh at old people and I think the whole concept of romance is a joke."
He looked down. "I've lost my erection."
"They have medication for that." I looked at the smaller version of perfection.