Chapter 4
BPOV
As far as I saw it: I had three options. Option one: ask Emmett to go over and ask the boy if I could have some of his alcohol or something like that. Option two: I could go over there and procure some myself. Option three: I could forget about it and stay sober or wait for someone else to offer me a drink. Option three, I did not like because I felt it would be pansying-out and then I'd be forced to stay sober. Option one seemed slightly embarrassing as well, so option two it was. I marched halfway around the bonfire towards the mystery god-like guy so non-chalantly drinking his alcohol when I noticed the shiny eyebrow ring above his left eye. Hot was the only word that came to mind. I was suddenly nervous as waves of attraction washed over me. I looked down at my feet as I kicked the grass, willing myself to get over it and get some booze!
I lifted my head, and continued walking while feigning confidence. Surprisingly, he noticed me approaching immediately and seemed a bit thrown-off. "Who are you?" he asked, too bluntly for my taste. He eyed me up and down, his face inscrutable. My anger flared towards him and his reaction; it got the better of me.
"Excuse me?" I spat.
"Oh, uhm, sorry. I didn't mean it like that… it's just that I thought I already knew everyone in Forks. You caught me off guard," he responded somewhat flustered, running his hand through his ruffled hair. His face changed into a look of surprise. "Nice stud!" He said. My hand surreptitiously went to my nose-stud. I had just gotten it pierced a few weeks prior; the minute redness had finally gone away.
I shrugged and verbally ignored his remark. "Well that was a perfectly polite way of addressing a stranger." I responded. My anger brought a slight flush of pink to my cheeks.
"I said I was sorry… well, what are you doing at my house?" he asked.
"You're house? I thought this was Alice's house." This idiot was frustrating me more and more by the second. He was rude, presumptuous, and he seemed pretty conceited with the way he was standing as if he was the god he looked to be and all of these partiers were here worshiping him. It made me sick. Not even Rosalie seemed this conceited.
"It is. I'm Edward Cullen, Alice's step-brother. It's my house too." My stomach plummeted. I just mouthed off to Alice's step-brother; maybe Forks wasn't the best place for me to go. "And now you're going to answer my question: who are you?" He asked again.
I gathered my thoughts momentarily before responding. "I'm Bella Swan, Emmett's sister."
"Ah, so you're Emmett's mystery sister." He replied. He didn't seem to be as angry with me as I was with him.
"I'm not a mystery." I responded tersely. My plan for procuring alcohol from this Edward was failing miserably.
"What are you then?" He questioned. He had sort of a smirky expression with a hint of a crooked smile. I couldn't tell if he was being obscenely rude to me or if he was perhaps trying to flirt with me. He was an attractive asshole, I'll give him that. Either way, it didn't matter which one it was: I had already made up my mind to hate him, him and any other dumb teenage guy that Forks had to offer me. That was another change after the accident: I became something of a man-hater. In answering his question, I had a sudden inspiration for my alcohol situation.
"Thirsty," I stated.
"I see. What do you … thirst for?" He was trying to be seductive, I thought. I couldn't be sure though, everything he said could have come from a place of anger instead of flirtation.
"Well, I had come over here in hopes of you sharing a little bit of that whiskey with the new girl, but I can see it was a wasted effort on my part." I turned and briskly walked away towards a line of trees. Edward began following me, trying to match my angry pace.
"Bella, wait. Come back! I'll share with you!" He shouted to me. He quickly caught up with me and grabbed my arm, forcing me to stop. "Where are you going!"
"To wait by my car." Edward laughed at my response.
"Well, Bella Honey, you're going the wrong way," he said and laughed again. I yanked my arm out of his grasp and spun around to walk back the way I had come. I felt a slight warm, tickling sensation from where his hand had held my arm.
"I'm not your 'honey'." I yelled to him behind me. My anger was bubbling uncontrollably inside me. I needed something to calm me down and quickly. He caught up with me again as we both reached the fire and stopped.
"Ok, sorry. But seriously Bella, I'll share some of my whiskey with you. I need to make up for coming across like an ass at first." Edward said, smiling. He was trying to amend whatever he thought was going on. He had no idea that this was just how I was lately: moody, angry, and abrasive.
I looked at him and saw sincerity. "Alright, fine," I said shortly. He handed me a red solo cup, unscrewed the cap of his Jim Beam and poured some into it. I was taken aback that he had given me such a decent amount: my cup was three-fourths full. "Thank-you," I muttered, brining my lips to the plastic cup. I saw that he had brought the bottle to his.
Before he took a sip, he declared, "cheers!" I mumbled it back and we each took a big swig of our beverages. He kept eyeing me anxiously, as if he was waiting for me to spit out the strong stuff or make a disgusted face. I did neither. I could handle my liquor. After about five big gulps of my drink, I decided to let the burning in my throat and stomach subside before drinking more.
I noticed Edward looking at me funny and it edged at my nerves. "What?" I asked obstinately.
He chuckled before he answered. "Nothing, I just keep waiting for you to get sick or something. But you're not; you're drinking this like a seasoned veteran."
I didn't find anything funny in that. "So?"
"So… you're not like any of the girls I've ever known in Forks. I've known you for all of ten minutes—an amount of time that I could easily figure someone out in—and you're a mystery to me. You drink like a man, and yet there's nothing manly about you. You are obstinate when there's nothing to fight about and yet I can tell you're very angry because your tiny hands have balled up into fists at your side." He saw that? I looked down at my side and sure enough, my cup-less hand was balled into a tiny fist of fury.
"So?" I repeated. What did he expect from me? I had nothing to say. If I wasn't worried about offending him at his house which would somehow get back to Emmett, I would have walked away and stayed away ten minutes ago.
"Well Bella, you may think you can fight like your brother, but you are nothing like you're brother!" He chuckled. "Not in a bad way, he's just like a big teddy bear… that could rip your face off if you angered him. You're more angry, but definitely not scary like he can be," he amended after he saw the look of nearly pure hatred on my face. "You're just… different. Plus, you remind me of a ferocious kitten. You're cute when you're mad." Ignoring the fact that he just called me cute, I was more enraged because he didn't take me seriously at all. Not that I needed him to take me seriously, after tonight I planned to never talk to him again. Instead of responding, I merely sighed heavily.
"Oh come on… don't be like that. I just told you how I'm attracted to you and you're ignoring me." He was trying to coax a conversation out of me. Why couldn't he just let me drink in peace? Why must people always want something from you when you just want to be left alone?
"Be like what?" I questioned, again ignoring his candid confession. I gave him my best pained-annoyance face and tilted my chin up in defiance.
"Bella, you're driving me crazy! …Most girls would kill to drink with me at one of my parties, much less have me call them cute. To be honest though," he paused. Here it comes, I thought, he's going to ask me to leave his party because I'm being a bitch… oh well. It had to happen sooner or later. "You're much more than cute. You're quite striking in your own way: all fury and brunette." Oh come on! Couldn't he tell that I didn't want him to call me those things?
"Well, I'm not like most girls," I responded. I had wanted to add on: and I don't like you… but, I didn't.
"Too true… you're like the challenge that Forks had yet to present me! I like a challenge," he replied with a wink. Oh this conceited, pathetic pick-up attempt was going to make me vomit. If it hadn't been for the warm numbing sensation of the alcohol that was starting to take effect, I would have been completely miserable. But now, I was only slightly miserable. Two can play at this game, ass hole, I thought.
"So, where's your letterman jacket like the rest of the fools of Forks? Your smug nature has you oozing 'King of the Jocks.'" I hoped that my biting sarcasm would make him leave me alone. If I had only known it would fuel his fire, I wouldn't have said anything.
He laughed harshly. "Oh Bella." He said my name with such distain. Or was it flirtation? I couldn't tell; the alcohol was starting to interfere with my perception of things. "Like I would be caught dead prancing around the football field with those field-fairies." He took out a cigarette from the pack in his jacket pocket and lit it in his mouth. I had to admit I found it somewhat attractive, but never would I admit that to Edward. "Besides," he continued, "my smoking doesn't go over well with athletics." He laughed as he took a drag.
"That," I said as I pointed to his cigarette, "doesn't impress me, you know."
"Bella, Bella, Bella," he chimed. What was with him and saying my name! At least he didn't call me Isabella like everyone back in Phoenix; that was the only positive I saw from this conversation. "If I was trying to impress you, doll face, we would have been the ones making-out behind that shed over there, rounding the bases, instead of your brother and Rosalie." He laughed darkly. As if I would be caught dead making-out with Edward Cullen, letting him drunkenly feel me up behind the shed in his backyard. What a tool, I thought.
"Oh you should only be so lucky." I pounded back the remaining liquid in my cup and stuck it out to him for a refill.
"So you think that you can stand here and criticize me while drinking my booze?" he asked.
"Yea, pretty much." I responded. He only shook his head and laughed at me while filling my cup with more whiskey. The rest of the night passed that way: him trying to shamelessly flirt with me and me insulting him all the while sharing his bottle of Jim Beam.
Later, when it was time to go, Emmett had gotten frustrated with my slow-sloppy pace while walking to the car. He picked me up and carried me to his jeep, laughing to himself. "Oh Izzy, You sure know how to pound back that alcohol with the rest of them." I think I passed out on the way home because everything after his comment was sort of dark and fuzzy.
