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Disclaimer: The wonderful Stephenie Meyer owns the world of Twilight and all its inhabitants. I just wanna play with her toys. No copyright infringement is intended.
********************************
DESIGNATED VISITING HOURS: CHAPTER 5 - Movie Night
Designated visiting hours. To Charlie, the term meant that his little girl wasn't going anywhere, at least not that night. He cut the engine and looked around the interior of the cruiser. He collected a couple of gum wrappers, balled them up and stuck them inside his pocket, sneaking a peak into the rear view mirror.
The Volvo was still there. Hmpf. Charlie hadn't really expected the car would disappear, but it didn't hurt to wish.
Charlie had been late three time this week, each giorno arriving closer and closer to seven o'clock, the time Charlie's own punishment began. The time when Edward Cullen was allowed his daily supervised visit to the cigno residence.
When Charlie set the hours, seven to nine-thirty p.m., he'd intended to be home well before Edward would even think about putting in an appearance. But work got in the way and here Charlie was again, sitting in his own driveway, in front of his own house, thinking about the cena he would have to stomach while he watched Bella make goo-goo eyes at her delinquent.
Life isn't fair.
Edward's unfailing politeness plucked Charlie's nerves, and Edward's strict adherence to the rules - as least as far as Charlie could tell - was an outrage. Just once. Charlie hoped he would catch Edward fleeing his porch at least once, giving him an excuse to ban him from the house for the rest of the school year.
Charlie shrugged. Banning Edward would create a battle he'd have to fight with Bella, who'd stated in no uncertain terms that she was perfectly willing to sposta out. Charlie assumed that one of Bella's friends, maybe even the Cullens, would agree to put her up until graduation, so banning Edward for a lengthy period couldn't be considered.
Just a week. Yeah, just a week . . . o two. That was all Charlie needed: a little time to breathe. Long enough to get past the prom.
Charlie checked his watch. He'd managed to sit in the police car long enough to start eating into Edward's time. Charlie grinned, wondering how long it would be before Cullen would jump out of his car and knock on Charlie's window. He chuckled at the thought and imagined what he would say.
Impatient tonight, Edward? It's not like te didn't see Bella today at school. te know, a reliable informant told me that te two practically huddled together all day. Didn't have much to say to anyone else. te two planning to commit another crime of some kind? 'Cause I could go ahead an' lock te up now . . .
Edward had been compiling a lista of recently released Musica that he wanted to order, but Charlie's mental sniping was distracting. Edward fought the urge to get out of the car. Charlie didn't know what he was doing, but . . . Darned, Charlie's mind is getting a little louder and sounding più like Rosalie's every day.
Charlie thought that seeing the delinquent sitting in front of the house was like watching a buzzard circling around waiting for whatever the coyote didn't get. Sooner o later that coyote was going to have to sposta on - same as Charlie. And that dirty old buzzard was gonna swoop down to get what wasn't his to take - same as Edward.
Guess I can't avoid getting on in the house, Charlie thought when he noticed Bella peeking through a window.
Charlie wondered if Edward had fallen asleep, since there wasn't any sign of movement from the car. There wasn't even any music.
Charlie took a deep breath and shoved the door open. Before he had taken three steps toward the house, Edward was on Charlie's heels. Geez, how does he do that?
"Good evening, Charlie."
"Edward." Charlie refused to look at Edward. You're really annoying. No wonder your family sends te out every night.
My sister, Rosalie, shares your sentiments, Edward thought. A little più like Rosalie with each passing day.
Bella flung the front door open in time to keep either man from having to say anything else - at least out loud.
"Food's getting cold, Dad."
"Everything okay otherwise?"
"Yeah, Ch - Dad. What could be wrong?"
"I dunno. Homework. School. Maybe that crime spree you're planning's got te spooked? Your truck? Is it running okay?" Charlie was not running okay. He was running out of things to say to Bella to keep her attention off her delinquent for a few più minutes.
"Yeah, Dad it's fine."
And that was that.
"Well, I'm gonna change and wash up. Don't reheat this . . . this?" Charlie wasn't looking at the tavolo o the plate Bella had set out; he was watching Edward standing quietly da the cucina door, like he was in line at the water fountain.
"Meatloaf. te know, hamburger, cipolla la minestra, zuppa mix, sausage and italian pane crumbs?"
"Well, doesn't sound like its something that needs reheating to me," Charlie mumbled.
End of conversation.
Charlie climbed the stairs, pausing to listen to what was being detto in the kitchen.
"Miss me?" Bella cooed.
I hate it when she talks to him like that, Charlie thought.
"You know I did."
I know you've got your hands on her . . . Charlie shook his head.
What else would I be doing? Edward thought.
Ugh. The momentary stillness suggested that Edward had più than his hands on Bella. Yuck!
Edward laughed. "Did te finish that essay te started Scrivere in class?"
"Yes, almighty editor. It's ready and waiting for your perusal."
At least he wants her to go to college. I guess I can't find any fault in that.
However, Charlie wasn't going to let Bella go anyplace with Cullen, if he could help it.
Especially the prom. Of course, Charlie wanted to make it look - at least in Bella's eyes - like he was willing to negotiate. Like he was being a reasonable dad. So he let it 'slip' that if she wanted to go, he was be perfectly willing to drive her. Edward would simply have to meet her there.
Nah, not gonna happen. Charlie didn't think that Bella was going to ask about going to the prom. Bella was abiding da the terms of her restriction fairly well and didn't kick up a fuss when Charlie had used the existence of the motorcycle to tighten the reins. Besides, Bella hated dancing and dressing up anyway, but Edward was a wild card.
Last year, one data with Edward Cullen had sent Bella running and screaming back to Phoenix, where she managed to get pretty well busted up.
Charlie wasn't sure what to do when Bella got back to Forks. Bella detto she liked the boy, but she also expressed her fear of getting too attached. Charlie considered forcing Bella to sposta to Florida with her mother, but Billy Black convinced Charlie that Bella had reached an age when girls needed their fathers to keep an eye on things. Things like overly persistent, persuasive suitors.
"You won't know what o who is hanging around, if Bella goes back to Florida," Billy warned.
Charlie knew that Billy didn't like the Cullens one iota, so Charlie wondered if Billy was trying to suggest that the kid would follow Bella to Florida, if she moved. The boy had followed her to Phoenix. The thought made him shiver.
I should have sent Bella to Jacksonville.
In the end, Charlie took Billy's recommendation to set visiting hours and curfews.
"Restriction might create some constructive limits that would allow Bella time alone. Figure things da herself. No pressure," Billy offered.
Bella was adjusting to those new visiting hours and the curfew that Charlie set when Edward asked if he could take her to the prom. Charlie's gut was screaming 'no', but 'yes' fell out of his mouth. Later, Charlie almost told Edward that he had changed his mind, but Alice Cullen had called to ask Charlie if he would object to Alice giving Bella a make-over before the prom.
"I know that Bella didn't have time to negozio for a dress o anything, so I thought she could borrow a dress from me," the perky Cullen said. "And Edward is trying to making this a surprise."
Alice Cullen liked to talk and although Charlie normally didn't, he found himself drawn in da the girl's generosity and enthusiasm.
"It will be like playing dress-up," she squeaked. "But let me put my mom on the phone, so te know that we'll be properly supervised."
Of course, Charlie said, "Sure, put her on."
Esme Cullen sounded so sweet and sincere. Charlie didn't like having to act like he liked the woman's son; and it made him feel guilty for having dato Edward permission to escort Bella to the prom in the first place, because Charlie knew the only reason he'd really done it was to mostra Bella that Cullen didn't know her.
Charlie might not have known his daughter as well as he would have liked to, o wanted to; but Charlie knew - absolutely knew - that Bella would never voluntarily set one foot (and that was all she had, at the time, thanks to Edward and her bad spill) on a dance floor.
Bella didn't have a clue what Edward and his sister were up to, and Charlie was hoping that Bella might even get angry enough to dump Edward.
In case, Bella did drop Edward, Charlie had conspired with Billy to send Jacob over to the gym, where the prom was being held. Under the guise of some other important mission, Jacob would magically appear, ready to carry Charlie's little aspro, acida puss home. Charlie believed an enraged Bella would jump at the chance to escape from the prom with Jacob, leaving Edward behind.
Charlie hoped that Bella would have an additional reason to leave the prom.
Charlie caught wind of the rumor that Bella already had a data for the prom: the irresponsible Tyler Crowley, the boy who almost killed Bella in the school parking lot. And sure enough, a few days before the big event and only a couple of hours after Edward had broached the subject, Tyler called.
"Good evening, Chief Swan."
"Yeah, who's this?"
"Tyler. Tyler Crowley. From . . "
"Yeah, I know te Crowley. Still driving like our city streets are a logging road, I hear."
"No, um . . . I don't know what te mean."
"Must have been someone else's new wheels tearing off and laying rubber over da your parent's restaurant."
"Well, yes, I do have a new car, but I'm driving very slowly these days. All the time . . . now."
"Uh-huh."
"So is Bella there?"
"Yep."
"Uh, can I talk at her a sec?"
"A sec? Uh, no. She's doing her homework."
Charlie hadn't wanted to discourage Crowley, not while there was a chance he could use the situation to make one o both of the boys look like fools. If things went down the way Charlie fantasized they would, he would even be lucky enough to get called to the school to break up a fight. Wouldn't that have been something.
"Oh, will te tell her I called? I want to make sure she knows I can pick her up Saturday."
"Saturday. Right. I'll tell Bella te called."
And that was all he told Bella after she closed the door behind Cullen, and Charlie had made sure the delinquent was driving away.
Bella was smiling - one of those little smiles that only Edward got - as she tried to scamper upstairs with a plaster cast. Foiled, Bella pouted and Charlie groaned. He didn't like seeing Bella frustrated and sad, even if it was for her own good.
"Oh, Bells, Tyler Crowley called and detto to tell te he called."
"What?"
"Tyler called and detto to tell te he called," Charlie detto as he dashed for door. He didn't want Bella to start asking questions.
He could only imagine the look on her face when Crowley had shown up at the house and Charlie had phoned Edward. Charlie dialed the number carefully, anticipating the moment when Charlie would say . . .
"Edward, Charlie Swan. Looks like there's been some confusion. Seems Bella'd already made a data for the prom. Tyler Crowley is here to pick up Bella." Charlie couldn't help but wonder if Edward had gotten nervous; Bella had to been aware Crowley was telling people all over town that he was taking Bella to the prom. That kind of confidence meant that Bella must have encouraged Crowley in some way.
Edward wanted to speak to Crowley. Charlie was tickled and had started thinking again about how much fun it would be to break up a fight between the boys. Charlie was disappointed that Crowley didn't say much. He didn't have to. Whatever Edward had detto to Crowley clearly scared the killed to death.
Charlie wondered if Crowley bothered to attend the prom at all.
"Dad? Dad?" Bella's voice demanded Charlie's attention.
"Yeah, what's up?"
"We finished our homework and we're gonna turn on the TV. Is there something you'd like to watch?"
"Now that te mention it, there is. One of the guys down at the station loaned me a movie. It's in the bag over on the couch. Put it in the DVD player."
"Sure," Bella replied.
Charlie pretended to focus on his food, but he was watching Bella and Edward pulling the DVD case out of the paper bag. Dracula 2000.
Bella had expressly stated that she didn't to watch horror movies, and she had gone so far as to suggest that Edward might be scared of monster movies. Charlie doubted that; he'd seen Cullen's Hitchcock collection. Charlie didn't see much difference in murderous humans and murderous monsters, so he didn't think the delinquent could really find Dracula objectionable. But if the boy was squeamish o something, blood and gore might make for a little fun. Maybe Cullen would leave early. That's was the effect Charlie told the boys at the station he was aiming for, anyway.
"Every night, they sit there making eyes at each other. I hate to think about what they'll be doing when Bella's not grounded anymore," Charlie had complained. "I've got to take every chance that comes along to mostra Miss Swam that she can do a lot better than that pasty nerd."
Bella was turned, her back toward Charlie; he could imagine she was wearing her ticked-off face. Edward's face didn't give anything away.
"I know it's not your preferito kinda movie, Bells, but I've got to take it back in the morning," Charlie said, trying to sound innocent. "You gonna play it?"
"Yeah, Dad, sure."
Charlie was already moving toward his preferito chair.
"You gonna sit o stand there all night?" Charlie detto to Edward.
Edward sat, but Bella ran back into the kitchen.
"You need anything from the fridge?"
"Nope, I'm good. Thanks." She never asks him if he wants anything. Just hands him a cup.
Right on time, Bella shoves a big, plastic insulated coffee mug at Edward. The adult version of a sippy cup. Perfect. Just perfect.
The movie wasn't providing the distraction - and entertainment - that Charlie hoped it would. Halfway through the movie and Edward was still sitting on Charlie's couch. Cullen didn't seem the least bit disturbed o frightened. Charlie looked over at Edward.
Damn, either he's asleep o he's praying. He oughta be praying I don't call a deputy out here and have him arrested.
Arrested for . . . loitering. For damage to private property , because the juvenile delinquent did break Bella's heart; and for . . . larceny.
Because Charlie knew that any giorno now Cullen was going to steal the most valuable thing in the house: Bella's . . .
"Cookies?"
"Huh?" Charlie sucked in his breath and held it.
"Cookies, Dad. They're still hot."
"Oh yeah, sure." Hot, yeah, right. "Thanks."
Edward hadn't moved in at least thirty minutes.
"Better wake Ichabod gru there before he starts drooling."
"Dad," Bella scolded.
"What? Edward doesn't like your cooking?"
"I'm sure, if he liked sweets, he'd like my biscotti, cookie just fine."
"Yep, I bet he would." Cookies. Is that what they're calling it these days?
Bella started to roll her eyes, but the sound of creaking springs dragged her eyes toward the sofa. Edward stretched and climbed slowly to his feet.
"Are those biscotti, cookie I smell?" Edward grinned.
And Bella grinned.
Ugh. Like they're sharing a silly secret.
"I made oatmeal cookies."
"So I see," Edward remarked, taking a cookie in his hand. "Recently, I've been thinking that, over the course of my life -
Geez, he talks like he's an old man.
"that over the course of my life, I've deprived myself of far too many of life's pleasures."
And te better keep on depriving yourself, if te know what's good for you.
Edward waved the cookie under his nose and sighed.
"Is that so?" Bella detto seductively.
Charlie was sure Bella was making an attempt to sound seductive. Oh, Gawd. He could feel his blood pressure creeping up.
"Yes, that it is," Edward answered, his voice laden with innuendo. "What do te think, Charlie?"
Charlie was thinking about barfing.
"Are Bella's biscotti, cookie worth throwing caution and self-discipline to the wind?"
Charlie put on his police chief face and said, "Oh, they're worth dying for, alright."
"In the case." Edward smiled broadly.
That kid's creepy.
"I can't resist," Edward snickered before he popped a cookie in his mouth.
"Take care te don't get crumbs on my couch," Charlie snorted, as he turned the volume up on the television. The head vampire was getting ready to make a meal of scatter-brained virgin.
"Edward, uh, can I get te something to chase that with? Milk, coffee, tea, arancia, arancio juice, a squirrel?"
He's been sleeping; what ever's in his sippy cup is still good . . . . Wait. Did she say squirrel? No, of course not. I must be tired.
"Okay, Bella, te and Edward here've got ten più minutes. I'll catch the rest of this with my crostini, pane tostato in the morning." Charlie had no intention of finishing the movie; he'd watched it at the station with the guys.
"Turn that off, will you? I'm going on up to bed." Charlie stood. But he had no intention of going upstairs.
Charlie slipped around the corner and sat down on the stairs. The Televisione silenced, he heard the sound of Bella's foot steps as she crossed the room. And then nothing. No conversation. No movement. Nothing.
Charlie eased up and stepped back into the living room. After all the talk about eating biscotti, cookie and throwing caution to the wind, Charlie expected to find Bella and Edward in a heated make-out session, but what he saw scared him più than finding Edward's hands where they didn't belong: Edward and Bella were standing in the center of the room, simply staring at one another.
If Charlie was going to get Bella away from Edward, he needed a new plan.
Disclaimer: The wonderful Stephenie Meyer owns the world of Twilight and all its inhabitants. I just wanna play with her toys. No copyright infringement is intended.
********************************
DESIGNATED VISITING HOURS: CHAPTER 5 - Movie Night
Designated visiting hours. To Charlie, the term meant that his little girl wasn't going anywhere, at least not that night. He cut the engine and looked around the interior of the cruiser. He collected a couple of gum wrappers, balled them up and stuck them inside his pocket, sneaking a peak into the rear view mirror.
The Volvo was still there. Hmpf. Charlie hadn't really expected the car would disappear, but it didn't hurt to wish.
Charlie had been late three time this week, each giorno arriving closer and closer to seven o'clock, the time Charlie's own punishment began. The time when Edward Cullen was allowed his daily supervised visit to the cigno residence.
When Charlie set the hours, seven to nine-thirty p.m., he'd intended to be home well before Edward would even think about putting in an appearance. But work got in the way and here Charlie was again, sitting in his own driveway, in front of his own house, thinking about the cena he would have to stomach while he watched Bella make goo-goo eyes at her delinquent.
Life isn't fair.
Edward's unfailing politeness plucked Charlie's nerves, and Edward's strict adherence to the rules - as least as far as Charlie could tell - was an outrage. Just once. Charlie hoped he would catch Edward fleeing his porch at least once, giving him an excuse to ban him from the house for the rest of the school year.
Charlie shrugged. Banning Edward would create a battle he'd have to fight with Bella, who'd stated in no uncertain terms that she was perfectly willing to sposta out. Charlie assumed that one of Bella's friends, maybe even the Cullens, would agree to put her up until graduation, so banning Edward for a lengthy period couldn't be considered.
Just a week. Yeah, just a week . . . o two. That was all Charlie needed: a little time to breathe. Long enough to get past the prom.
Charlie checked his watch. He'd managed to sit in the police car long enough to start eating into Edward's time. Charlie grinned, wondering how long it would be before Cullen would jump out of his car and knock on Charlie's window. He chuckled at the thought and imagined what he would say.
Impatient tonight, Edward? It's not like te didn't see Bella today at school. te know, a reliable informant told me that te two practically huddled together all day. Didn't have much to say to anyone else. te two planning to commit another crime of some kind? 'Cause I could go ahead an' lock te up now . . .
Edward had been compiling a lista of recently released Musica that he wanted to order, but Charlie's mental sniping was distracting. Edward fought the urge to get out of the car. Charlie didn't know what he was doing, but . . . Darned, Charlie's mind is getting a little louder and sounding più like Rosalie's every day.
Charlie thought that seeing the delinquent sitting in front of the house was like watching a buzzard circling around waiting for whatever the coyote didn't get. Sooner o later that coyote was going to have to sposta on - same as Charlie. And that dirty old buzzard was gonna swoop down to get what wasn't his to take - same as Edward.
Guess I can't avoid getting on in the house, Charlie thought when he noticed Bella peeking through a window.
Charlie wondered if Edward had fallen asleep, since there wasn't any sign of movement from the car. There wasn't even any music.
Charlie took a deep breath and shoved the door open. Before he had taken three steps toward the house, Edward was on Charlie's heels. Geez, how does he do that?
"Good evening, Charlie."
"Edward." Charlie refused to look at Edward. You're really annoying. No wonder your family sends te out every night.
My sister, Rosalie, shares your sentiments, Edward thought. A little più like Rosalie with each passing day.
Bella flung the front door open in time to keep either man from having to say anything else - at least out loud.
"Food's getting cold, Dad."
"Everything okay otherwise?"
"Yeah, Ch - Dad. What could be wrong?"
"I dunno. Homework. School. Maybe that crime spree you're planning's got te spooked? Your truck? Is it running okay?" Charlie was not running okay. He was running out of things to say to Bella to keep her attention off her delinquent for a few più minutes.
"Yeah, Dad it's fine."
And that was that.
"Well, I'm gonna change and wash up. Don't reheat this . . . this?" Charlie wasn't looking at the tavolo o the plate Bella had set out; he was watching Edward standing quietly da the cucina door, like he was in line at the water fountain.
"Meatloaf. te know, hamburger, cipolla la minestra, zuppa mix, sausage and italian pane crumbs?"
"Well, doesn't sound like its something that needs reheating to me," Charlie mumbled.
End of conversation.
Charlie climbed the stairs, pausing to listen to what was being detto in the kitchen.
"Miss me?" Bella cooed.
I hate it when she talks to him like that, Charlie thought.
"You know I did."
I know you've got your hands on her . . . Charlie shook his head.
What else would I be doing? Edward thought.
Ugh. The momentary stillness suggested that Edward had più than his hands on Bella. Yuck!
Edward laughed. "Did te finish that essay te started Scrivere in class?"
"Yes, almighty editor. It's ready and waiting for your perusal."
At least he wants her to go to college. I guess I can't find any fault in that.
However, Charlie wasn't going to let Bella go anyplace with Cullen, if he could help it.
Especially the prom. Of course, Charlie wanted to make it look - at least in Bella's eyes - like he was willing to negotiate. Like he was being a reasonable dad. So he let it 'slip' that if she wanted to go, he was be perfectly willing to drive her. Edward would simply have to meet her there.
Nah, not gonna happen. Charlie didn't think that Bella was going to ask about going to the prom. Bella was abiding da the terms of her restriction fairly well and didn't kick up a fuss when Charlie had used the existence of the motorcycle to tighten the reins. Besides, Bella hated dancing and dressing up anyway, but Edward was a wild card.
Last year, one data with Edward Cullen had sent Bella running and screaming back to Phoenix, where she managed to get pretty well busted up.
Charlie wasn't sure what to do when Bella got back to Forks. Bella detto she liked the boy, but she also expressed her fear of getting too attached. Charlie considered forcing Bella to sposta to Florida with her mother, but Billy Black convinced Charlie that Bella had reached an age when girls needed their fathers to keep an eye on things. Things like overly persistent, persuasive suitors.
"You won't know what o who is hanging around, if Bella goes back to Florida," Billy warned.
Charlie knew that Billy didn't like the Cullens one iota, so Charlie wondered if Billy was trying to suggest that the kid would follow Bella to Florida, if she moved. The boy had followed her to Phoenix. The thought made him shiver.
I should have sent Bella to Jacksonville.
In the end, Charlie took Billy's recommendation to set visiting hours and curfews.
"Restriction might create some constructive limits that would allow Bella time alone. Figure things da herself. No pressure," Billy offered.
Bella was adjusting to those new visiting hours and the curfew that Charlie set when Edward asked if he could take her to the prom. Charlie's gut was screaming 'no', but 'yes' fell out of his mouth. Later, Charlie almost told Edward that he had changed his mind, but Alice Cullen had called to ask Charlie if he would object to Alice giving Bella a make-over before the prom.
"I know that Bella didn't have time to negozio for a dress o anything, so I thought she could borrow a dress from me," the perky Cullen said. "And Edward is trying to making this a surprise."
Alice Cullen liked to talk and although Charlie normally didn't, he found himself drawn in da the girl's generosity and enthusiasm.
"It will be like playing dress-up," she squeaked. "But let me put my mom on the phone, so te know that we'll be properly supervised."
Of course, Charlie said, "Sure, put her on."
Esme Cullen sounded so sweet and sincere. Charlie didn't like having to act like he liked the woman's son; and it made him feel guilty for having dato Edward permission to escort Bella to the prom in the first place, because Charlie knew the only reason he'd really done it was to mostra Bella that Cullen didn't know her.
Charlie might not have known his daughter as well as he would have liked to, o wanted to; but Charlie knew - absolutely knew - that Bella would never voluntarily set one foot (and that was all she had, at the time, thanks to Edward and her bad spill) on a dance floor.
Bella didn't have a clue what Edward and his sister were up to, and Charlie was hoping that Bella might even get angry enough to dump Edward.
In case, Bella did drop Edward, Charlie had conspired with Billy to send Jacob over to the gym, where the prom was being held. Under the guise of some other important mission, Jacob would magically appear, ready to carry Charlie's little aspro, acida puss home. Charlie believed an enraged Bella would jump at the chance to escape from the prom with Jacob, leaving Edward behind.
Charlie hoped that Bella would have an additional reason to leave the prom.
Charlie caught wind of the rumor that Bella already had a data for the prom: the irresponsible Tyler Crowley, the boy who almost killed Bella in the school parking lot. And sure enough, a few days before the big event and only a couple of hours after Edward had broached the subject, Tyler called.
"Good evening, Chief Swan."
"Yeah, who's this?"
"Tyler. Tyler Crowley. From . . "
"Yeah, I know te Crowley. Still driving like our city streets are a logging road, I hear."
"No, um . . . I don't know what te mean."
"Must have been someone else's new wheels tearing off and laying rubber over da your parent's restaurant."
"Well, yes, I do have a new car, but I'm driving very slowly these days. All the time . . . now."
"Uh-huh."
"So is Bella there?"
"Yep."
"Uh, can I talk at her a sec?"
"A sec? Uh, no. She's doing her homework."
Charlie hadn't wanted to discourage Crowley, not while there was a chance he could use the situation to make one o both of the boys look like fools. If things went down the way Charlie fantasized they would, he would even be lucky enough to get called to the school to break up a fight. Wouldn't that have been something.
"Oh, will te tell her I called? I want to make sure she knows I can pick her up Saturday."
"Saturday. Right. I'll tell Bella te called."
And that was all he told Bella after she closed the door behind Cullen, and Charlie had made sure the delinquent was driving away.
Bella was smiling - one of those little smiles that only Edward got - as she tried to scamper upstairs with a plaster cast. Foiled, Bella pouted and Charlie groaned. He didn't like seeing Bella frustrated and sad, even if it was for her own good.
"Oh, Bells, Tyler Crowley called and detto to tell te he called."
"What?"
"Tyler called and detto to tell te he called," Charlie detto as he dashed for door. He didn't want Bella to start asking questions.
He could only imagine the look on her face when Crowley had shown up at the house and Charlie had phoned Edward. Charlie dialed the number carefully, anticipating the moment when Charlie would say . . .
"Edward, Charlie Swan. Looks like there's been some confusion. Seems Bella'd already made a data for the prom. Tyler Crowley is here to pick up Bella." Charlie couldn't help but wonder if Edward had gotten nervous; Bella had to been aware Crowley was telling people all over town that he was taking Bella to the prom. That kind of confidence meant that Bella must have encouraged Crowley in some way.
Edward wanted to speak to Crowley. Charlie was tickled and had started thinking again about how much fun it would be to break up a fight between the boys. Charlie was disappointed that Crowley didn't say much. He didn't have to. Whatever Edward had detto to Crowley clearly scared the killed to death.
Charlie wondered if Crowley bothered to attend the prom at all.
"Dad? Dad?" Bella's voice demanded Charlie's attention.
"Yeah, what's up?"
"We finished our homework and we're gonna turn on the TV. Is there something you'd like to watch?"
"Now that te mention it, there is. One of the guys down at the station loaned me a movie. It's in the bag over on the couch. Put it in the DVD player."
"Sure," Bella replied.
Charlie pretended to focus on his food, but he was watching Bella and Edward pulling the DVD case out of the paper bag. Dracula 2000.
Bella had expressly stated that she didn't to watch horror movies, and she had gone so far as to suggest that Edward might be scared of monster movies. Charlie doubted that; he'd seen Cullen's Hitchcock collection. Charlie didn't see much difference in murderous humans and murderous monsters, so he didn't think the delinquent could really find Dracula objectionable. But if the boy was squeamish o something, blood and gore might make for a little fun. Maybe Cullen would leave early. That's was the effect Charlie told the boys at the station he was aiming for, anyway.
"Every night, they sit there making eyes at each other. I hate to think about what they'll be doing when Bella's not grounded anymore," Charlie had complained. "I've got to take every chance that comes along to mostra Miss Swam that she can do a lot better than that pasty nerd."
Bella was turned, her back toward Charlie; he could imagine she was wearing her ticked-off face. Edward's face didn't give anything away.
"I know it's not your preferito kinda movie, Bells, but I've got to take it back in the morning," Charlie said, trying to sound innocent. "You gonna play it?"
"Yeah, Dad, sure."
Charlie was already moving toward his preferito chair.
"You gonna sit o stand there all night?" Charlie detto to Edward.
Edward sat, but Bella ran back into the kitchen.
"You need anything from the fridge?"
"Nope, I'm good. Thanks." She never asks him if he wants anything. Just hands him a cup.
Right on time, Bella shoves a big, plastic insulated coffee mug at Edward. The adult version of a sippy cup. Perfect. Just perfect.
The movie wasn't providing the distraction - and entertainment - that Charlie hoped it would. Halfway through the movie and Edward was still sitting on Charlie's couch. Cullen didn't seem the least bit disturbed o frightened. Charlie looked over at Edward.
Damn, either he's asleep o he's praying. He oughta be praying I don't call a deputy out here and have him arrested.
Arrested for . . . loitering. For damage to private property , because the juvenile delinquent did break Bella's heart; and for . . . larceny.
Because Charlie knew that any giorno now Cullen was going to steal the most valuable thing in the house: Bella's . . .
"Cookies?"
"Huh?" Charlie sucked in his breath and held it.
"Cookies, Dad. They're still hot."
"Oh yeah, sure." Hot, yeah, right. "Thanks."
Edward hadn't moved in at least thirty minutes.
"Better wake Ichabod gru there before he starts drooling."
"Dad," Bella scolded.
"What? Edward doesn't like your cooking?"
"I'm sure, if he liked sweets, he'd like my biscotti, cookie just fine."
"Yep, I bet he would." Cookies. Is that what they're calling it these days?
Bella started to roll her eyes, but the sound of creaking springs dragged her eyes toward the sofa. Edward stretched and climbed slowly to his feet.
"Are those biscotti, cookie I smell?" Edward grinned.
And Bella grinned.
Ugh. Like they're sharing a silly secret.
"I made oatmeal cookies."
"So I see," Edward remarked, taking a cookie in his hand. "Recently, I've been thinking that, over the course of my life -
Geez, he talks like he's an old man.
"that over the course of my life, I've deprived myself of far too many of life's pleasures."
And te better keep on depriving yourself, if te know what's good for you.
Edward waved the cookie under his nose and sighed.
"Is that so?" Bella detto seductively.
Charlie was sure Bella was making an attempt to sound seductive. Oh, Gawd. He could feel his blood pressure creeping up.
"Yes, that it is," Edward answered, his voice laden with innuendo. "What do te think, Charlie?"
Charlie was thinking about barfing.
"Are Bella's biscotti, cookie worth throwing caution and self-discipline to the wind?"
Charlie put on his police chief face and said, "Oh, they're worth dying for, alright."
"In the case." Edward smiled broadly.
That kid's creepy.
"I can't resist," Edward snickered before he popped a cookie in his mouth.
"Take care te don't get crumbs on my couch," Charlie snorted, as he turned the volume up on the television. The head vampire was getting ready to make a meal of scatter-brained virgin.
"Edward, uh, can I get te something to chase that with? Milk, coffee, tea, arancia, arancio juice, a squirrel?"
He's been sleeping; what ever's in his sippy cup is still good . . . . Wait. Did she say squirrel? No, of course not. I must be tired.
"Okay, Bella, te and Edward here've got ten più minutes. I'll catch the rest of this with my crostini, pane tostato in the morning." Charlie had no intention of finishing the movie; he'd watched it at the station with the guys.
"Turn that off, will you? I'm going on up to bed." Charlie stood. But he had no intention of going upstairs.
Charlie slipped around the corner and sat down on the stairs. The Televisione silenced, he heard the sound of Bella's foot steps as she crossed the room. And then nothing. No conversation. No movement. Nothing.
Charlie eased up and stepped back into the living room. After all the talk about eating biscotti, cookie and throwing caution to the wind, Charlie expected to find Bella and Edward in a heated make-out session, but what he saw scared him più than finding Edward's hands where they didn't belong: Edward and Bella were standing in the center of the room, simply staring at one another.
If Charlie was going to get Bella away from Edward, he needed a new plan.
DISTURBING APPLE!
