Chapter 7: Getting Friendly

Chapter 7: Getting Friendly

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Wine is good.

Especially when mixed with good friends, laughter, and a whole lotta gossip.

“Holy shit. So what did you do?” Alice asks, pouring the remainder of a Spanish Rioja into her glass.

I gulp the rest of my glass and stand up in search of what would be our fourth bottle.

“What the hell was I supposed to do? We couldn’t necessarily continue our discussion with his daughter standing right there, so I just excused myself, collected the kids, and left.”

“Wait, what? You mean he didn’t say anything to you? He didn’t stop you?” asks Rose.

“No. His daughter was asking him a bunch of questions and he couldn’t get a word in edgewise. He gave me the generic ‘I’m sorry’ look, I told him not to worry, and walked away.”

When Angela comes out of the bathroom to rejoin us in my living room, I give her the stink eye.

“And you! I thought you said you knew everything about everyone... you know, small towns and all that crap. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” I rib her in mock indignation.

Angela takes her seat on the couch and cringes. “I know, I know! I’m sorry! Lauren had mentioned it the first day, but since it’s Lauren I didn’t know how to take it. No one else had mentioned he has a kid; maybe he was trying to keep it on the DL. But after you told me this afternoon, I spoke to another mom whose kid is in Mr. Cullen’s daughter’s class and she gave me all the details.”

“Ooh, I want to hear this!” Alice exclaims while Rose pops a cheese cube in her mouth, wide eyes on Angela.

“Well apparently, Mr. Cullen’s almost thirty, if not already there. He’s from Seattle but moved out here over the summer with his daughter, who’s in the first grade. His wife passed away shortly after the little girl was born and so it’s been just the two of them all this time.”

“Aw, that’s terrible. Poor little one,” Rose says as Alice shakes her head sadly.

“I wonder why he’d pick Forks, though. You’d think Seattle would have more teaching options,” I muse.

“I have no idea. Maybe he wants to give his daughter a more small-town upbringing?” Angela suggests.

Alice perks up, clearing her throat. “Well, at least we know there’s no baby mama from some nasty divorce. Your divorce drama is enough.”

“Thanks, Alice.” I deadpan.

“No problem,” she says, batting her eyelashes.

“Well, there’s gotta be more to the story than this. Maybe they’re in like witness protection or something. Maybe he outed some big wig in the mafia,” Rose says before taking a bite of her slice of pizza.

“Or maybe he’s actually a special CIA agent working a huge drug trafficking ring,” Alice adds as Angela’s eyes widen.

“Oh, my God, you think?”

Cue eye roll from me.

“You people watch too much crime TV. It’s probably something really simple. Maybe it’s like what Angela says, he just wants to get away from the big city and focus on his daughter,” I explain sensibly. 

After all, it’s what I did.

“Well, whatever the case may be, it’s pretty clear he’s got a thing for you, and you, my dear, should get up on that shit real soon.” Alice points at me, narrowing her eyes. I swear the only thing Alice thinks about is dick.

“Alice, the only thing you ever think about is dick,” I say.

“Damn skippy. And that’s surprising why?”

Another round of giggles and clinking glasses ensues. 

“Seriously though, Bella. He’s really good looking, he’s got a lot in common with you already since you’re both single parents...what’s the harm?” Angela chimes in.

“The harm is the fact he’s my son’s teacher, we live in a small town, and if it gets out that something happened or is happening between us, there’s no telling how Lauren and the rest of the nosy residents of good ‘ol Forks are going to spin it. They might start saying I’m trying to influence him in some way, and what if his job is threatened?” I start to worry out loud.

“Whoa, whoa there. Slow down bee bee,” Rose interrupts.  “You’re getting way ahead of yourself. I mean, you guys haven’t really discussed what happened or what you want from each other. This guy might be scared shitless that you’re going to say something to others about your night together. I think you two need to find a way to meet outside of the context of school, away from prying eyes,” she says while tearing a garlic roll from the greasy bag in front of her.

I sigh. She’s right, as always.

“I’m right.” Rose nods to herself.

Of course, she can also read my mind.

“Rose is totally right. I suggest you play it cool from now on. Don’t press him. If he sees you’re not out to delegitimize him professionally, maybe he’ll loosen up and you can finally straddle his fine ass and get some.” Alice is always so eloquent.

Angela agrees as well and pretty soon, we’ve downed the fourth bottle of wine and chatted for another hour or so about Alice’s latest conquest before calling it a night. 

After cleaning up, I head upstairs to G’s room to check on him. He’s dead to the world. 

In bed, my thoughts run rampant with everything the girls and I talked about. And then, all I see are green eyes, brightly visible through glasses.

I close my eyes and his face is right there in front of me. He looks at me like he wants me. And I might explode from the intensity of his presence. I conjure up the feeling of his hands on my hips, caressing my waist, the feel of his strong body against mine, and the feel of his warm breath on my neck. It’s not long before my fingers are his, and his name is muffled by my pillow.

I need to get laid.

...

Sunday afternoons are the best for doing absolutely nothing. Fortunately, Forks has a great little bookstore with a blocked-off children’s section and a coffee shop that serves one of the best lattes I’ve ever had.

Garrett immediately makes a beeline for the dinosaur books, taking at least five of them to a nearby bench. I smile and sit next to him. These benches aren’t made for mommies, but it’ll do. 

I watch him peruse his books while my mind wanders back to Edward. I’ve thought about him all weekend, and I’m more comfortable with the idea of playing it cool tomorrow morning when I drop the kids off. If he wants to talk, we’ll talk. If he doesn’t, well...

“Fancy meeting you here.”

“Mr. Cullen! Look, Mommy, It’s my teacher!” My son gasps.

No. No. It can’t be.

I don’t dare look up, because I have no idea what I’ll do when my eyes find his. I see black converse and worn jeans with frayed edges. Moving up the long, long-ass legs I stare at his black Nirvana tee shirt that hugs him just right. 

His arms are crossed at his broad chest and oh, my Lord, the forearms are on display.

He must do that on purpose.

I finally set my gaze on his face--a knowing smirk graces his perfectly bitable lips and his eyes shine through his glasses.

His hair. 

I don’t even know how hair like that happens, so I can’t even explain it.

I snap myself out of it and my snark comes out to play.

“Really? That’s all you could come up with?”

Edward huffs a chuckle through his nose and bows his head. He glances up at me shyly.

“Sorry. I’m not very creative under pressure.”

“Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

He chuckles again, shaking his head.

The sound of his laugh... I swear I’ll just combust.

“Hi, Ms. Swan,” chirps Edward’s daughter, coming up from behind him and smiling a megawatt smile. She’s really a beautiful little girl.

“Hey there, Brianna. You like the bookstore too?”

“I love it! We come every Sunday, right Daddy?”

“That’s right, Bree.” He smiles down on her.

There’s an awkward pause between the big people as we both stare at each other. I don’t even know what to do.

The little people do know what to do, however, and they quickly start chatting; G asks me if he can sit with Brianna on the carpet and listen to the storyteller. I tell him to go ahead, and just like that, those two are thick as thieves.

It’s so simple for kids to be friends and talk about anything.

I’m apparently not as wordy as I usually am at the moment and just stare at Edward with nothing to say.

I blame Mr. Hotty Pants.

Edward suddenly clears his throat and gestures to an open bench across from me.

“May I?” he asks, honey voice in full effect.

Naked. I want him naked.

Preferably we’d both be naked, but I’ll accept just him for now.

“Sure, why not,” I respond with a smile.

This should be good.