Edward’s Point of View
We shuffled our things from plane to busses, and after a short drive were hauling suitcases up multiple flights of stairs. The lodge was four stories, buried beneath a thick layer of snow, and completely ours until Sunday afternoon. Floor one had a giant room for shoes, which were apparently not allowed to be worn on the upper floors. You had to hold your breath to run through, and still it made you wish for death. The front desk was on this floor, as well as a couple private rooms with shut doors in which a few of the chaperones would be staying. Up a tight flight of stairs was the main floor, which consisted of a three different dens, an industrial-sized kitchen with a homey feel, and a large dining room packed with six long banquet tables. On the far side of the kitchen, sliding glass doors opened out onto the main veranda, from which you could wander up to a series of fire pits or down to a smaller, more private veranda, or all the way down to the street. The top two floors were barrack-style rooms, two on each floor with bunk beds shoved against the walls.
For some reason, it was decided that the girls would stay on the top floor –apparently they liked the windows in the ceiling or something. I think there might have been more bathrooms up there, too. This meant they had to drag their suitcases up an extra flight of stairs, and I shook my head and did not join the flurry of boys eager to show their chivalric side and help the girls. I saw James make several trips, probably with Bella’s and Lauren’s things. Instead, I dragged my own bag to the bunk beneath Jasper’s at the far side of one of the boys’ rooms, wondering how many students were actually going to sleep in their own beds. Sure, there were chaperones, but half the chaperones were as horny as the students, and the other half were staying in rooms downstairs. Abstinence and gender-divide were going to be difficult to enforce.
“I have a bet going,” Jasper announced, sitting on the sleeping bag I had already unrolled across my mattress. I glanced up as I dug around for deodorant in my bag; flying always left me feeling disgusting.
“A bet?”
“Well, see, it’s clear you’re avoiding a certain Bella Swan,” he mused. “I think you’re just being an antisocial dick.”
“How is that a bet?” I cocked an eyebrow. Jasper and his bets; the boy had a problem.
“Well Alice thinks you’re having a bad day, and Bella thinks you have deep-rooted mental problems.”
I laughed and gave him a hard shove, ordering, “Get off my bed, asshole.”
“So who’s right?”
“You and Bella. I’m having a great day.” It wasn’t lost on me the non-chalance with which we called Bella simply by her first name. Part of me felt like I didn’t have the right to call her just Bella yet; first names suddenly felt oddly intimate. I felt like I hadn’t earned the right to talk about her like she was a friend. Yet. I wondered if she called me Edward, or Cullen, or Edward Cullen. The idea of her calling me just Cullen put a bad taste in my mouth. It was how you referred to people you disliked –‘Newton,’ for instance.
“Yeah, you and James looked like you were really bonding on the plane there,” he teased. “I forget you two are friends.”
“I wouldn’t call us friends . . .”
“What was he, staking his claim? Who’s he after this trip?”
I grimaced, then assured him, “Not Alice, so you don’t need to worry.”
“I wasn’t worried,” he insisted defensively. Then, to cover his tracks, he moved on, “So what are your plans for the day? I was thinking you and me could hit the slopes, if you don’t already have a date with James . . .”
“Wait . . . you mean, you are actually leaving Alice’s side to spend the afternoon with—“
“Don’t get too excited. We’re going on the sleigh ride with them later. Alice seemed to think she should spend the afternoon with Bella without me, since me being there makes it really clear that you’re being a dick—“
“Why is everyone so convinced I’m avoiding her?” I interrupted, suddenly a bit annoyed. What was this, sixth grade? So we didn’t talk. There were lots of people I didn’t talk to. She didn’t talk to me, either.
He just laughed, “Don’t get your panties in a twist over it. I told her you’re just a douche, and not to worry about it . . . by the way, if you ever want to annoy her, call someone a douche. Apparently she thinks that’s the stupidest insult ever . . .”
However, I was not the least bit interested in what did or did not annoy Bella Swan. So we jumped on the busses headed to the slopes, rented what gear we didn’t have, and I spent the remaining daylight hours tossing myself down a mountain with my feet strapped to a board. The sun was bright but not warm, the wind was just enough to remind you how fast you were sliding, and best of all, you didn’t have to speak or think or interact at all. You just road up, took that first jump, and flew.
The lodge had dinner waiting when the busses returned with us, bowls of pasta and baskets of bread dominating the long kitchen island. It seemed a lot of the girls had hitched rides to the nearest small town and Alice and Bella had eaten there, so I didn’t even catch a glimpse of them until after dinner and a shower, at which point Jasper reminded me that “we” were going on a sleigh ride with them.
“Wow, you know, that sounds like a lot of fun,” I coughed, “but I think I’d rather stay here and watch snow melt in the shoe room.”
Before he could exert himself too much trying to convince me, Bella and Alice had stomped in from outdoors and joined us, Alice’s eyes gleaming and Bella’s glazed over. Her cheeks were bright pink where they peeked out above the scarf she had pressed across her lips and nose, and her hair stuck out, windblown with small bits of snow drying and enhancing the curls. When she lowered the scarf, her lips were swollen from the heat of her breath. She looked wildly beautiful, exhausted, and really, really unhappy.
I laughed before I could stop myself and she glared at me, pulling the scarf back up and rubbing her mittens together.
“Sleigh rides!” Alice grinned, clapping her gloved hands. “The sleighs are outside waiting for everyone; let’s go before they fill up.”
Bella snorted, “Yeah, I’m going to be really disappointed if I don’t get to freeze my ass off for a few more hours while I stare at a horse’s backside.”
“Oh, come on. Jasper, Edward, let’s go,” Alice ordered, motioning for us to follow and leading the way back out onto the veranda and then down the wooden steps to the street. A dozen tacky red sleighs with bright gold bells were lined up waiting as horses stomped impatiently and breathed clouds of warmth into the frigid air. I was amused enough by Bella’s lack of enthusiasm that I walked directly behind her, bumping into her slightly when she would occasionally hesitate, as though trying to time when she could flee back inside without Alice noticing. No such luck. I got a sick pleasure out of knowing I was blocking her only escape. Hell, if I had to suffer through this, she could too.
When I hesitated to dive towards one, Jasper glared, “Come on, man. Don’t be a douche.”
“Jasper,” Bella sighed with a roll of her eyes. He was right; she did have some weird animosity for the word. Alice was tugging them both to the nearest sleigh where Rosalie and Emmett were already huddling under blankets on the back bench. Eight could fit per sleigh, four on each row. I followed, dragging my feet to make it clear I was not enjoying myself. Jasper and Alice hopped into the front bench, then Bella got dragged in, and I hesitated, not sure I wanted to spend the sleigh ride cuddled down under a blanket beside Bella.
Why not, you ask? Maybe because she was clearly in a bad mood and I don’t like being around people when they’re in bad moods. Maybe because she was clearly going to be silent and antisocial, and we would have to either force conversation or sit in awkward silence. Maybe because sharing a blanket would mean her body heat soaking through my coat, her hair whipping into my face, and the scent of her wrapping its way around my throat and slowly strangling until only one part of me was left standing.
Gee, Jasper, I wonder why I didn’t want to do this?
My hesitation was only a second, but that was all the time it took James to throw himself onto the bench, literally knocking me back a step. I didn’t know whether to laugh or growl or sigh with relief.
“There’s the beautiful swan,” James grinned, nudging Bella playfully in the shoulder.
It was apparently some joke I didn’t understand, because though she seemed shocked at first, she suddenly grinned, “Hey, James.” Just his first name. I rolled my eyes and pulled myself up beside Rosalie. I didn’t want to go on this stupid sleigh ride, but if James was going to be sharing a blanket with Bella, I’d be sitting right behind him, ready to flick his ear if he tried anything that crossed the line.
But crossed the line? What line? Bella certainly didn’t need my protection from James when she was obviously happy to see him. She burrowed down into the blanket, pulling it up to her chin and chattering her teeth loudly, earning a shove from Alice.
“Mind if I sit here?” I glanced down into the coy grin of Lauren Mallory. Without waiting for an answer –no, thanks—she pulled herself up, explaining, “All the other seats are taken.” Clearly the sleigh in front of us had two open spaces, but again without waiting for a reply she yanked the blanket out from behind her and spread it across both of us.
Alice suddenly turned and pointed out, “Lauren, I think Jessica’s trying to get your attention.” Sure enough, three sleighs ahead, Jessica was waving and clearly motioning for Lauren to come sit with her.
“I don’t see—oh, I think we’re about to go,” Lauren grinned.
We sat another five minutes in an uncomfortable silence, Rosalie shaking with silenced laughter beside me and Jasper whispering something into Alice’s ear, that she then whispered to Bella, that the three of them then laughed about.
“Hey, secrets don’t make friends,” Emmett reminded.
Bella twisted to look back at him, which James used as his opportunity to scoot closer. “We were just laughing about how we can hear Edward’s teeth chattering. Are you really that cold?” she asked me with a friendly smile. She never gave me friendly smiles . . .
Before I could even try to process what she was talking about, Lauren laughed, “If you’re cold, Edward, why didn’t you say something?” She tugged the blanket up to my chin, tucked it in around my shoulders, and then snuggled into me, some sort of fruity perfume washing against my face. Okay, well she did smell good. But Bella was a bitch. She was supposed to be protecting me, not gleaning sick pleasure from my unwanted close proximity to Lauren. I kicked the back of her bench, though it was only James who looked back at me with a grin, then tugged the blanket tighter around Bella.
A path for the sleighs had been marked through the snowy forest, twinkling lights draped along the branches on either side. It really was a sort of winter wonderland, beautiful and romantic and peaceful. As much as I would have liked to be sitting beside someone that I didn’t know was trying to seduce me, Lauren actually didn’t ruin the ride. She didn’t try to talk to me, didn’t let her hands wander around under the blanket, and even shared a grimace with me when Emmett and Rosalie kissed loudly beside us. We were warm and cozy beneath the blanket while the brisk air rushed past our faces, and the moonlight dancing across her skin was flattering to her usually sharp features. Really, she was pretty in the semi-dark when she kept her mouth shut.
Just as I was considering this, though, just beginning to wonder if I might not like Lauren Mallory to try and seduce me after all, Bella’s hair spilled onto my lap. She had let her head fall onto the seatback to stare up at the clear sky as we left the forest and slid out onto a snowy field. Unlike back in Forks, the sky was cloudless and the stars shone almost as brightly as the moon, winking down at us in our black and white world.
Lauren giggled and whispered, “Hiccup?” as my chest jumped, my breath rushing painfully from my lungs.
“Yeah, something like that . . .” I muttered distractedly, only because I felt like I needed to say something to her. Suddenly, for the first time since I had met Lauren Mallory in junior high, I felt bad for her. Because no matter how good she smelled, or how warm she was, or how talented rumor said she was with her tongue, nothing about her could compare to the new girl in front of us. Lauren was pretty in this winter world, but Bella was breathtakingly beautiful, her features as soft and tranquil as the hills around us. She sat up again as James said something to her, and I wondered how I hadn’t noticed it until now, the way her dark lashes splashed against her flushed cheeks, the way the moonlight collected on her pink lips. Her profile was perfect; she was the face on my mother’s cameo brooch.
Her hair was still dangling in front of me, and the desire to reach out and wind my fingers into the curls was alarmingly overwhelming. It wasn’t lust or envy or my heart fluttering with some stupid crush on the new girl – all of those, I would have understood, I would have been able to name and do something about. No, it was the feeling I had gotten while visiting the Louvre with my mother and stumbling across Chaudet’s Cupid and Falconet’s Bather in the same room, wanting to run my fingers across the flawless white stone. It was the same sensation I had been left with after visiting a Cherry Blossom festival as a kid, overwhelmed by the mass of such delicate perfection.
It was the primal recognition of rare and ethereal beauty. I was left dumbfounded by the realization that Bella Swan in the snowy moonlight was one of the most beautiful things I ever had, and probably ever would, see.
I don’t how long the last leg of the ride lasted; I spent it staring at the back of Bella’s head, trying to ignore James beside her. He was making her laugh, whispering but not leaning too close because that made Bella lean away. I noticed it, and he did too and used the observation to his advantage. I wondered what he was saying to make her laugh, and whether she was really amused or just being polite, and whether their legs were pressed against each other beneath the blanket, and whether she still smelled like strawberries and lilac like she had at the party.
Then suddenly we were back at the lodge and Lauren was tugging on my arm, laughing, “Wake up! Let’s get inside where it’s warm . . .” I stumbled out, offering a hand to help my sister down without thinking about it, and scowling at the street as Bella tripped getting out and James caught her against his chest. He had no right to touch her; his dirty fingers couldn’t possibly be careful enough with her delicate skin. He didn’t even realize the beauty standing beside him, urging Alice to hurry so they could get inside already.
I suddenly regretted that Bella had come on the ski trip, because just some stupid sleigh ride had left me feeling like a romantic pansy-ass idiot.
Reviewing my sleigh-ride musings in the bright lights of the ski lodge, though, I was suddenly embarrassed. Comparing her skin to pure and gentle snow? Putting her in the same league as my favorite flower and my favorite statues? Cameo?
Who was I kidding. I was a fucking pansy.
I ducked away just as Alice was suggesting we go in search of hot chocolate, not even caring that Lauren had apparently been reaching for my arm and I’d shoved her away. I took a piss standing up and glared at myself in the mirror, trying to feel like a man again. But that just annoyed me. Hadn’t I always condemned machismo in teenage boys before? You needed to be comfortable enough in your masculinity to admit that Debussy left you breathless and that reading by the fire was a perfectly good way to spend your evening and that one of your lifetime goals was to compare all the known versions of Madonna of the Rocks with your own eyes. A real man doesn’t need to belch or swear in front of girls or chug kegs of dark beer or slander classical literature just to remind everyone that he has a penis. Girls knew I had a penis even without me shoving it in their faces every—
“God,” I snorted, suddenly shaking with laughter at my own unintentional phrasing.
I grinned at myself in the mirror and decided once and for all that no, Lauren was just spreading false rumors. I didn’t have a thing for Bella Swan. I felt protective of her because the girl clearly couldn’t hold her alcohol and because she was a friend of Jasper’s. I respected her intellect because she could defend Columbus, of all people. I was stunned by her beauty because I happened to possess a healthy appreciation for beautiful things. Perhaps I could even come to value her as a friend –after all, that was actually a pretty good trick she’d pulled with Lauren. But I most certainly didn’t have any “thing” for her in particular. Crushes were for thirteen-year-old girls and five-year-old boys, and I was neither.
All of this thinking actually left me quite happy with myself. I didn’t like confusion or ambiguity or being uncertain about my feelings towards people. I liked to know upfront how I felt about someone, and then treat them accordingly. It had been a long time since I’d met a new kid, so it made sense that I’d been a bit confused, especially with Lauren spreading such stupid rumors. But there it was: Bella was a cool kid, and I could respect that. As a matter of fact, I could stop avoiding her.
High on relief, I floated back downstairs and checked the dens until finding my friends. Jasper and Emmett were lying on their stomachs on the floor, intent on a game of chess. Rosalie had draped herself across one of the couches, her feet near the roaring fireplace as she flipped through a magazine. Alice sat at the coffee table, her tongue sticking out between her lips as she studied the puzzle pieces, sorting them into piles to fit some sort of method. A couple other kids hung around, though most had congregated around the fire pits outside, or lounged in the two larger dens with TVs and video games.
Bella had curled herself onto the rocking chair between the other couch and the fireplace. Her curls had been tamed in a low ponytail and her coat traded for an old sweatshirt; bright orange socks peeked out from beneath the blanket she had twisted herself into. She stared down at the guitar lying across her lap, her fingers running over the strings and occasionally plucking to make the faintest notes.
I collapsed onto the couch near her and watched her eyes and fingers trailing across the instrument for a long moment before teasing, “You know, I asked for protection, not encouragement.” She jumped, apparently unaware I had joined her.
“Excuse me?”
“That was a cute little stunt you pulled, back in the sleigh, but I thought my request was pretty straight forward.”
“Oh, that.” Her lips twisted into a playful grin as she shrugged, “Well, when you let James have his way with me, I thought perhaps the deal was off.”
First, I wanted to assure her I would not be letting James have his way with her. That was something else I had decided in the bathroom conversation with my reflection. Secondly, though, and this I actually pointed out, “You didn’t seem too upset about it. The only alternative would have been sitting by me the entire time. Given your strong dislike for me, I figured you’d prefer his company.” I was . . . I was fishing. I was a twelve-year-old. I was digging around like a kid in the sandbox, trying to figure out what she thought about me.
“You at least wouldn’t have kept trying to hold my hand,” she pointed out, not taking the bait.
“Didn’t you want to hold his hand?”
“I just wanted to look at the stars,” she admitted, suddenly shy in her smile, like she was embarrassed to admit it. “It’s . . . it’s probably one of the things I miss most about Phoenix. Colorado stars are almost as good as Arizona stars.”
Before I could ask her more about her old home, who should throw herself onto the couch behind me but the Mallory creature. She was talking again, which meant she was back to being “the Mallory creature,” and not simply Lauren as she had been on the sleigh ride. Silence is golden, dear girl . . .
“You play, don’t you Edward?” she asked, interrupting the conversation Bella and I had clearly been having. She wasn’t stupid; it was obvious we were talking. I was twisted on the couch to entirely face Bella; she was leaning to the side in the chair to face me. Well, if Lauren wanted to be rude, I would too. I wasn’t going to answer her.
But Bella’s smile suddenly widened as she repeated, “Oh, you play?”
“Ah, well, yeah, I guess I do . . .”
Across the small den Rosalie snorted, “Edward being modest? What has this world come to?” I hadn’t realized everyone in the room was listening to us; everyone seemed so wrapped up in their own activities that I thought maybe this was mine and Bella’s chance to talk. Until Mallory intruded.
The warm glow from the fire danced across Bella’s skin, illuminating her brown eyes and bringing out the red streaks in her hair. She carefully held the guitar out to me and urged, “Okay. Impress me.”
“What, I haven’t already impressed you?”
“No,” she retorted simply; Emmett slapped the ground and bellowed in response, “You’re great, kid.” I rolled my eyes and took the guitar, settling back on the couch. Lauren shifted her weight, sitting a bit closer, so I made sure to keep my body turned mostly towards Bella. She noticed Lauren’s leg pressed against mine and bit her lip, ducking her gaze to the side as she gave the smallest laugh.
“The deal is not off . . .” I mumbled, which made her laughter swell, and I grinned. James wasn’t the only one who could make her laugh. She pulled the blanket up higher around her shoulders as I paused to decide what to sing . . .
I was good. I knew I was good. Music was one thing that, as Rosalie had kindly pointed out, I was never modest about. I had learned classical piano and guitar as a kid, then begun learning more modern pieces in junior high. Though I kept my own compositions to the piano in general, I still picked up the guitar every now and then, and had written a couple songs on it. But I couldn’t sing an original song right now, I quickly decided with an unfamiliar rush of nerves.
Impress me. Her voice repeated it in my head, and surely she couldn’t know how anxious the command suddenly made me. Not that I would mess or, or not be able to play as well as expected. No, it was all in the song choice. What the hell could I perform to impress her? I hadn’t the faintest idea what sort of music she liked
“Aw, Eddie, you going to play a little ditty for us?” James asked, strolling in and throwing himself onto the couch beside Lauren as I deliberated. The fucker had layered on the cologne; it radiated off of him. Perhaps the smell would smother Lauren and I wouldn’t have to rely on Bella’s shitty protection anymore.
Bella gave him a playful glare and insisted, “Shhh, be quiet, James.”
“Anything for you, Bella.”
I shot him a dirty glare and snorted, “Game on, James.” He laughed until Bella and Lauren both hushed him again as I began the song, initially only intending to play an instrumental arrangement of it and not bother singing. I mean, I didn’t want to overwhelm Bella with my talent too much at once. Or suddenly have my voice crack. I purposely played a variation introduction to start with and show off a bit, but two notes into the familiar introduction Alice and Rosalie both sighed, “Awwww,” with very different inflections.
I was suddenly too anxious to look at Bella, afraid she would think this was a cheap shot, some stupid line, a sorry attempt to actually impress her. It wasn’t just those things, though, it was also now one of my favorite songs by an already-favorite artist.
I finally, as I finished the chorus for the first time, glanced up at Bella, expecting a smirk or an eyeroll. But she was just smiling, watching me with soft eyes, her head resting against the chair as she used one orange sock to rock herself slowly back and forth. She looked peaceful and pleased and my entire body tingled.
“Why aren’t you singing, man?” Emmett laughed, and I glanced around to see that the entire room had stilled to watch me, and more people were standing in the doorway, witnessing our little jam session unfold.
I glanced back at Bella. Her lips twisted into a tight grin, then she bit her lip and repeated, “Sing, Edward.”
Fuck it. I was going to fucking sing for this girl. Show me one single guy in the entire world that could say no to the lip bite, not to mention the smile, the wide eyes, the way her breath carried my name.
“Standing in the sunlight laughing, hiding behind a rainbow’s wall, slipping and sliding all along the waterfall with you, my brown eyed girl. You my brown eyed girl. Do you remember when we used to sing?”
Everyone sang the sha la la’s together, our voices mixing in a grotesque and off-key rendition of the chorus of one of Van Morisson’s greatest hits. I was laughing so hard I didn’t think I’d be able to get the last verse out, but when the room fell instantly silent again I scrambled to find my voice again, singing and only glancing at Bella, “Sometime I’m overcome thinking ‘bout making love in the green grass behind the stadium with you, my brown eyed girl. You my brown eyed girl.”
The last round of Sha la la’s was even more spirited; I could hear the chorus being carried down the hall and into other dens. And, cheesy as it is, there was this moment of just . . . happiness. Even Bella was singing, or trying to between her giggles, and I felt genuine affection for every student of Forks High School that was currently belting out the chorus to the cheesy song I was hoping to impress Bella Swan with. For fifteen seconds, I loved everyone in our graduating class. It was strange.
As soon as it was over, I chuckled, “Well, that’s quite enough of that.”
As I reached behind me to return the guitar to its hook on the wall, though, Emmett demanded, “Wait, Bella, play my song.”
“Your song?” she mused at the same time I asked, “You play?” It hadn’t even occurred to me that she might be a musician. She didn’t strike me as a guitarist, but then she had been so lovingly fingering the strings, like someone with genuine respect for the instrument.
She blushed at the question, per usual, and insisted, “Oh, no, I know like three songs. I’m not good. And I don’t sing.”
“Come on, Bella, please. You play and I’ll sing!”
“I don’t even know—oh! Okay, I know what song you’re—Emmett . . .” she whined, shaking her head.
Alice had started giggling now and insisted, “Bella, you love that song. You have to play it.”
“I don’t love it. I just think it’s stupid and funny when Emmett sings it . . .” I held the guitar out to her with what I knew was a cocky grin and she gave a dramatic sigh before accepting the instrument back, wincing as the body hit the arm of the rocking chair.
Emmett took a stance in front of the fireplace now, and winked at Rosalie, “This one’s for you, baby.” Bella’s brow furrowed in concentration as she stared down at the frets, awkwardly positioning her fingers. She began to pick and Emmett lowered his voice to speak, “This song is for the ladies, but fellas, listen closely.” Instantly a roar of approval at song choice went around, and I saw more people had wedged themselves into the room.
“You don’t always have to fuck her hard. In fact, sometimes that’s not right to do. Sometimes you got to make some love, and fucking give her some smooches too.” Emmett was putting everything into it, his voice booming around the room as his face twisted into the most absurd expressions. “Sometimes you’ve got to say hey, I’m gonna fuck you softly. I’m gonna screw you gently. I’m gonna hump you sweetly. I’m gonna ball you discreetly.” I couldn’t help but stare at Bella’s face; she was bright red and trying extremely hard not to laugh too hard to see the strings. Alice and Lauren had both lost it. I could feel Lauren’s shoulder bumping repeatedly into mine as she threw her head back with amusement, and Alice was hunched over the table, tears streaming down her face.
Emmett continued to belt it out to Rosalie, who rolled her eyes but snickered. “And then you say wait a minute sally. I think I got something in my teeth: could you get it out for me?” Even Bella yelled with the rest of the room, “That’s fucking teamwork!” as well as later, on “But I’ll order it from Zanzibar!” clearly the two best lines of the song.
I continued to gape once the song had finished, staring as she passed the guitar to Jasper, who wanted to impress Alice a bit. Bella shifted uncomfortably before finally looking at me, biting her lip again as she asked, “Yes?”
“Of all the songs you could have learned to play on the guitar, you learn Tenacious D?”
She laughed and shrugged, “A friend back home taught me. Tenacious D was his favorite band and I thought the song was funny . . .” It was not the sort of humor I would have associated with Bella, low brow and perverse. The image of her yelling “That’s fucking teamwork!” played again in my head, so out of character for her normally shy and reserved demeanor, and a terrible thing dawned on me. I was going to fall in love with this girl.
“Besides,” she was speaking to me again. “I had to do something to clear my head after you sang my third favorite Van Morrison song.”
“Oh? What are the first two?” I expected ‘Domino or ‘Moondance.’ That’s what most people would probably say, two of his more well-known songs.
She tapped her chin twice before smiling, “Well in the morning I like ‘When That Evening Sun Goes Down,’ and at night I like ‘Crazy Love.’ Although I really have a growing fondness for ‘Ballerina,’ too. I’m not really sure why – maybe that’s my number four right now.”
I just stared at her. It was either stare or leap across the arm of the couch and kiss her. Fuck falling in love with her, I was in love with her! She wasn’t a passing fan who knew a couple popular hits, she actually knew her shit!
To test her, just to make sure she wasn’t trying to pull anything funny, I pressed, “So you like his newer stuff better or his older stuff?”
“Clearly his older stuff,” she snorted, making a face. “Although his new stuff isn’t bad. I just like those two albums the best . . .”
I grinned, “The early 70s were a good time for my man Van.”
She opened her mouth to say something more but suddenly, as though aware that Bella and I were having a pretty intense moment, James had his hands on the back of her rocking chair and was beaming down at her.
I wasn’t even aware what he said to her, I guess wanting to show her something they had talked about earlier, and before I could object she had given me an apologetic smile and risen. I watched her back, feeling robbed. Damn you, James. We were having a moment.
And, perhaps just as bad, suddenly Lauren was touching my arm and gushing, “You were amazing, Edward. I didn’t know you could sing like that . . .”
Not only had James just waltzed off with what might possibly be the most perfect specimen of the female species, I had been left alone with the Mallory creature. And she was talking again.
Six Main Eight