DaPK Chapter 5 - Finding A Groove

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Chapter 5 - Finding a Groove

BPOV

Oh thank you to all things holy.

Whew.

I think I need a cold shower or at the very least a towel to wipe up the drool as I stare, unabashedly and practically panting, at Edward while he walks toward the bench on the sideline of the field. All legs, arms, and a back that even beneath his gray Forks High t-shirt ripples every time he moves. What I wouldn't give to have this be a shirts versus skins game. I wonder if I can suggest that to his coach, because really, I could guarantee that the support for the boys soccer team would fly through the roof if he agreed.

But then again, I don't think I'd much like everyone ogling my guy. Actually, there's no think about it - I'd hate it with the fire of a thousand suns.

Hmmm … seems like I'm a tad possessive about Creeper.

I'm pretty sure he won't mind so much.

"Tongue back in your mouth, Bella. You might not like what lands on it if you leave it sticking out." Alice giggles as she drops down beside me.

"I'm just … that's … wow," are the only words that I'm able to articulate … and not very coherently at that.

She giggles again and wiggles her eyebrows, looking ridiculous and cute at the same time. "Tell me about it. And the football players wonder why at their games the stands are only half full, and the soccer games are standing room only." Her hands lift, palms up, moving slightly up and down. "No contest, guys in shorts, sweaty hair, and shirts stuck to their chests, or guys covered up in pads and a helmet?" She lowers the football hand as if invisibly weighing one against the other. Like her, I agree there's no contest. At all.

Not even close.

I keep staring. I can't take my eyes off Edward and my gaze is so heated he must feel it. My breath leaves in one huge whoosh when he turns and looks in my direction. He's so beautiful, handsome, sexy - hot as hell - take your pick. He's all that and so much more. Perfect and talented and athletic - a veritable walking, talking, breathing, jumble of every adjective imaginable.

The most important one being … mine.

Because he so is.

So, so much mine.

"Nice, Bella," Alice says under her breath and I laugh at the proud tone of her voice.

Not that I'm doing anything but gawking at my very hot boyfriend and appreciating the surrounding scenery. Edward winks and gives me the same kind of chin lift that guys forever think is cool. Can't lie, on him it totally is, but then again, the boy could very probably start singing Celine Dion songs at the top of his lungs and no one would bat an eye. Well, Emmett would, and then he'd join in the singing.

I watch as he and Alec say a few words back and forth. From Edward's body language, I get the feeling that whatever they're talking about has to do with me, mostly because Edward keeps glancing in my direction. He's not mad, that I can tell. He looks focused, sure, but relaxed and totally in his element. His eyes though, I can feel them all the way from where he's standing. Scorching and penetrating … familiar … and my body reacts immediately.

Warm and tingly, the fine hairs on my arms stand on end. My hands flutter about like they've all of a sudden ceased functioning properly and my brain fizzles and sputters as it tries to make sense of anything, which is next to impossible when Edward looks at me the way he does. Like he can see every part of me, even the parts I try to hide from him.

"I've never seen Edward act the way he does when he's around you," Alice says while we watch the guys move toward the center of the field.

I turn toward her, anxious all of a sudden. Alice has known Edward forever. What if she doesn't like what she sees now? What if she doesn't like me for Edward? So far this week, she's been nothing short of a constant ball of energy, full of smiles and encouraging words. I don't think she means anything bad by what she's said, but I still stammer when I ask, "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

She snorts; it's dainty and cute, and totally Alice. Her gray eyes dance and her smile is honest and genuine.

"It's a good thing, you big goof." She laughs. "It's an excellent thing. Edward's always been so controlled, so careful. Sure, we've seen him," she waves her hand around and I know she means herself, Rose, Em, Jasper, and more than likely Ben and Angela, too, "act silly and crazy, but at school he's always kept a wall up. Now, the boy glides through the halls like he's walking on water, practically skipping and jumping. I'm surprised he doesn't cartwheel from class to class. No, it's definitely a good thing to see him so happy. And he's that way because of you."

Wow.

I didn't realize how much I needed to hear all that until she says it and I'm so happy to know she feels that way. Edward's very close to his parents, but his friends mean the world to him. I've always known that, from the very first time he mentioned them; it's easy to see how tight-knit they all are. To know, to really, truly know that his friends are okay with me being in his life, well, it's good to hear.

Really, really good.

A whistle sounds and the guys start moving around the field. I'm mesmerized and I can't take my eyes off Edward as he morphs into Soccerward. Gone is the Edward with the slight smirk on his face, relaxed posture, and playful tilt of his head. In his place is one who stands tall, demands attention, and radiates confidence, if not outright cockiness.

He's almost too much to look at. His shorts hang low on his hips, but as he moves, they cling to his thighs. His very defined, very muscular thighs. Calf muscles pop and flex, and when he jumps up and down in place, releasing that last bit of pent-up energy so he can focus, it does funny things to my girly parts.

Nice funny things, mind you.

Tingly, fluttery things, as a matter of fact.

Alice is talking to me, but honestly, I can't concentrate on a word she says. My eyes are glued to Edward. The whistle blows and I feel every muscle in my body tighten in nervous anticipation. A few minutes into the game, it's obvious that he's the best player on the field. By far. His command of the players on his team, the way he's always finding a weak spot to exploit, how he moves instinctually, it's something to see.

"Jas, behind you. Garrett, watch for the through ball," he hollers as the other team sets up for a throw-in.

Even from the stands, I can hear the grunts as bodies crash into bodies. Anyone who says soccer's not a physical sport must have never watched a game. Elbows jabbing into sides, heels clipped, shins crashing against shins, a cleat to a thigh, heads bumping against another, it's never ending. He runs. He passes. He and Jasper work in perfect sync, each knowing where the ball's going to go without even having to look at it. Edward directs the offense with the precision of a general on the battlefield. With a point of a finger or a tip of his head, his team moves as one. It's a beautiful thing to watch … and this is just a scrimmage - practice for God's sake! I can't even imagine what it'll be like to watch him in a real game setting. It feels like only minutes have passed, but then before I know it, the coach has blown his whistle indicating halftime.

"Holy mother," I say as I exhale.

"Yep, you said it," Alice says, then giggles.

The 'I can't feel my ass' tingles are out in full force and I wiggle back and forth, from one half asleep buttcheek to the other. Apparently I was so spellbound for the last forty minutes that I forgot to move. I lift my arms over my head to try to get some feeling back into my extremities. From my fingers to my toes, my entire body feels like thousands of tiny needles are pricking me over and over as blood begins to flow again. I close my eyes and let my head fall forward, thoroughly enjoying the way the sun feels beating down on me. A few beads of sweat slither down my back and it makes me shiver. I lift my head and my eyes immediately find Edward.

He looks up and smiles. He, Jasper, and the coach are talking, animatedly from the way Edward's hands are waving in the air. It's impressive to see him in his element, and there's no doubt the boy was made to play soccer. His joy is evident in every move he makes while on the field and I love the way his eyes light up with passion and fire.

"Gah, would you look at him? He's so freakin' hot," comes a squeaky, grating voice from behind us.

"I know it. Those legs and that hair, it's so sexy. I can't wait to see him at the party tonight. You know things always get out of control at Mike's. Edward hasn't been to a party since the one at his house for his birthday, remember? He was so trashed, and girl, you were all over him." The pathetic wench beside her laughs.

Ugh, Heidi and Bree. They've been making comments all week in that annoying 'let's whisper just loud enough so that someone - me - will hear' kind of way, rolling their eyes and giving each other those kinds of looks whenever I'm around. I know they've been hoping for some sort of, I don't know, breakdown or cat fight … something, but if they think I'm some shrinking violet who's going to cower in the corner, they've got another damn thing coming. I know how Edward feels about me. The way he talks to me, looks at me, and touches me - I know.

I didn't know about Mike's party, though. Well, I heard people talking about it at lunch, but Edward never mentioned going. I was actually kind of hoping … really hoping, that we could have some time alone tonight. I want to play. I want him to watch me play, and I just want to be with him, away from everyone and everything else.

"Well, only a few hours and I'm sure you'll be able to get your freak on … again."

I snort, loudly, totally not caring that I sound like some sort of overgrown bullfrog. Alice huffs and whips her head around, eyes blazing and ready to rip the two to shreds, but I shake my head, just enough, so she keeps her mouth closed. I appreciate her wanting to jump to my defense, but I'm more than capable of fighting my own battles, thanks very much.

"Something to say Alice? Bella?" Heidi asks in a sing-song voice that's as fake as a porn star's boobs.

I plaster my own fake smile on my face and slowly turn around. Inside I'm boiling mad, but I'll be damned if I let them know it.

"I know all about Edward's birthday and the fact that he turned you down, flat," I bite sharply when I stare at Heidi. "You may not have known about me, but I heard all about you, so don't try insinuating shit just to start trouble because it's not going to work."

Both of them look like they've sucked on a lemon, sputtering and staring at me with huge eyes. Heidi composes herself quickly though, and says icily as she stands up, "Yeah, well we'll see what's what when he's at the party tonight and you're sitting at home, alone, babysitting your mom." Her eyes flash at Bree and then the two of the scamper off to God knows where, twittering about what to wear tonight.

That. Bitch. I breathe in and out a few times, more angry than I've been in a long damn time. Going after me to make me doubt Edward is one thing, but to be so heartless as to bring up my mom is another thing altogether.

"You know Edward's not going, right? At least not without you," Alice says quietly beside me.

I nod, not really sure how I feel about it. On one hand, honestly, I don't want him to go, I want him to spend time with me, and then on the other, I feel horribly guilty for feeling that way. He knows I can't go out, or more that I don't want to leave Mom when I don't have to, but that doesn't mean he has to stay home just because I'm going to. This has been such a long week, full of stress and worry as well as excitement and happiness, and frankly, I need some time to decompress from it all.

I love being able to see him every day. To be able to watch his eyes dance when he and Emmett joke around between classes, or to hear him and Alice nag at each other, and to feel his fingers running through my hair during Spanish class. It's been an amazing week, and at the end of every day I spend a few hours sitting with Mom telling her about all that's happening as well as to just be quiet and think about everything.

There's a lot to think about.

I felt like I knew Edward before school started. We shared so much, talked about things that we haven't told anyone else - became best friends as well as boyfriend and girlfriend - just through our words; but seeing him, hearing him … watching him be the person he is, is about the best thing ever. But every day there's something new I learn about him, tiny things really, but they're the things that make him my Creeper. He chews on the end of his pen. In Spanish he hums the Beatles, but in English it's the Foo Fighters. At lunch he sits on my left side, but when we walk in the hallway, he's on my right. He has the horrible habit of cracking his knuckles. When he talks about his parents he smiles a lot, but when he talks about soccer his whole face lights up. At night, when we're on the phone and it's time to say goodbye, the very last thing he says, right before he hangs up is, "I love you." He never waits to hear it back, if I want to tell him, I'd best be sure to do it before then, because without fail, he's disconnecting the call before the 'you' barely has time to make it out of his mouth. When I asked him why after the first time he did it, he shrugged and said, simply, that he wanted those words to be the last thing I heard before going to sleep.

Not gonna lie, hearing that made me want to push him to the ground and do lots of the tingly, fluttery things that keep me company in my dreams most nights.

All of which leads me to really, really, wanting him to come over tonight. I miss our nights - secret and ours alone. I miss his words in our notebooks … I miss him. Creeper. I see Edward every day and it's great and wonderful, but I miss our strange yet intimate late night encounters.

"You okay?" Alice asks when I've been silent for a while.

"Yeah," I tell her, because I am.

How could I not be?

I focus again on the game and even though it's only a practice and they aren't really keeping score or anything, Edward's intensity is palpable. I've played, I've watched matches on TV and have seen a few games in person with Phil and my mom, so I know the final minutes of the game are the nail biters. There's pushing and shoving, grunting and yelling. Edward's eyes don't stop tracking the ball. Goosebumps cover my skin because watching him as he and Jasper run and pivot and pass and dribble, working together, is like the most intricate ballet. I hold my breath when Edward steals the ball from Alec and begins running up the field, eyes fixed on the goal … his target. The defense moves with him, covering, blocking, so his only choice is to pass the ball to Jasper on the wing. He plants his foot, then swivels right, avoiding Tyler and his elbow, and lays off the perfect pass to Jasper. He jockeys around Tyler, arms and elbows flailing about, but he's finally able to find a free spot. Almost as if it were scripted, Jasper chips the ball from the side to the front of the goal where Edward deftly, fluidly, bounces the ball off his chest, to his feet, where he uses one smooth motion to kick the ball into the corner of the net.

His teammates surround him, giving high-fives and slaps on the back … and me, I'm just in awe.

He's so talented, so good. It's almost heartbreaking the amount of skill he possesses. He's at home on a soccer field; it's obvious to anyone who watches him. It's what he was born to do.

My eyes are glued to him, especially when he lifts the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, leaving his very toned stomach exposed to drool over. And drool I do. I lick my lips as he turns just a bit to the side, giving me the perfect view of his hips and abs. Jesus, is he ever something to look at.

The coach brings all the boys together once the game is over. After a few words, the guys disperse, some head straight for the locker rooms, some sit on the bench, and the rest sort of mingle and talk. I see Edward pull out his phone and about thirty seconds later my phone beeps with a text.

"Wait for me," is all it says, but the three words are enough to make my heart beat a little faster and for me to hurry the hell up and walk to my truck. I tell Alice goodbye and promise to at least text over the weekend once I have an idea of what my plans might be … besides some writing, playing, baking, visiting with Mom and spending as much quality time with Edward as I can.

An entire weekend's worth sounds like a mighty fine idea if you ask me.

I rush to my truck, pressing the key fob to unlock the door. My backpack gets slung inside, a bit too hard due to the butterflies about seeing Edward in a few minutes, and falls onto the floor in front of the passenger seat. I climb inside the Escalade and lean over to pick it up then gasp when two hands grab me by the waist and pull me almost out the door. Edward.

My eyes widen, but before I can do anything other than squeak, he's turned me sideways. One hand stays on my hip and the other slides into my hair as he cups the back of my head. His lips press against mine, hard, almost desperate, and it feels so good. So, so good. There's a tongue in my mouth, and it's warm, possessive. I like it. My fingers plunge in his damp hair and I don't even mind that he's covered in sweat. He smells fucking incredible - salty and spicy and all things Edward.

His breathing is erratic, heavy, like he ran all the way from the field to the parking lot at a dead sprint. He scoots closer, as close as he can get, but it's perfect because my chest is pressed against his and I can feel how hard and fast his heart's beating. Just like mine.

God, I want him.

I want him to kiss me and touch me and make me feel things that set my body on fire and like I'm falling apart right before his eyes.

"So fucking good." He groans as his lips slide from my mouth to the side of my neck. "I've been thinking about kissing you all damn day, Bella."

"Oh, aah." I moan when his tongue flicks my earlobe. I feel his teeth scrape the sensitive skin and all it does is make me roll my hips against him and press myself even closer to him.

He swirls his tongue around that spot, the spot … the little dip where my shoulder meets my neck, and I groan. Loudly. "Jesus, Edward." I pant.

Everything … thinking about him, watching him play, hearing those girls talk about him … all of it and so much more has me going completely out of my mind. I open my mouth to say something, which is pretty damn hard considering all the things he's doing with his tongue, but he starts talking first.

"Bella," he says in a rough voice. He's breathing hard, chest heaving and when I pick my head up to look at him, his eyes are so damn bright. "Can I come over tonight? Please? I miss you … I need you."

"What about the party?"

He growls and wedges himself even more between my legs. "Fuck the party, baby. I've had to share you all week. I don't need or want to spend time with anyone but you."

His words are perfect. He's perfect. "Yes, God, yes," I answer. I pull myself up and wrap my arms around his neck. His hands splay across my back, holding me to him and it feels so good.

"Same time as before, okay? Sooner if my parents go to bed early. I'll text when I'm on my way."

I nod, clinging to him for a few, very short minutes. Not long enough at all.

He kisses my lips one more time, then my cheeks, then the tip of my nose. "I'll see you afterwhile. I can't wait to have you all to myself."

Saying goodbye takes a few more minutes because neither of us want to let the other go, even if we'll be back together in a few hours. When he finally pulls away, closing my door and giving me a sexy wink, all I can think about is tonight.

I smile to myself as I watch him walk away - a very nice sight to behold.

Tonight he won't have to watch from the trees.

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