The Emotional Education of Edward Cullen - Chapter 5
Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4.
Author: Picklewinkle (ff.net)/JCAddict (LJ)
Characters/Pairing: Edward & Bella
Rating: M
Category: Drama/Angst/Romance
Spoilers: None
Summary: Edward Cullen is brilliant and complicated but also closed off and socially inept. Can Bella teach him how to tap into and understand his emotions through an unorthodox experiment without breaking her own heart in the process? AH.
Chapter 5: Hypothesis; I Blame The Journals
DISCLAIMER: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder of the words, plot and lackluster formatting belong to me.
I wanted to take this chance to thank Project Team Beta for all of their help with this story. I have been blessed with two of the best Permanent Betas now, so I'd like to take a second to introduce Ms. LightStarDusting and Ms. Scorp112. These two fantastic ladies are made of awesome. Their input has been invaluable, especially on this chapter. It was important to me to get it just right, and thanks to them, it is.
Thanks to everyone who has been reading and reviewing. I love hearing from you guys very much and sincerely appreciate the support.
Chapter 5: Hypothesis; I Blame The Journals
EPOV
Bella and I came to a truce of sorts at school. She said hello and smiled when we passed in the hallways. I would nod or smile in return. She didn't wait by my car or approach me in the cafeteria, even though the fact that I ate by myself would have made it easy for her to do so. She seemed to understand that it was a comfort level thing with me, or that's what I told myself. Maybe she just didn't want to start another fight.
I vacillated between thinking I was an idiot for even entertaining the idea of exploring what Bella made me feel and trying to figure out the best way to approach the subject with her. To say that it felt awkward was a vast understatement. It felt downright unnatural for me most of the time. My reaction to her left me feeling confused and irrational, sometimes even temperamental. It was the desire to understand why that secured my perseverance.
I wasn't without reservations. I was uncomfortable with the notion that a kiss could have such a strong effect on me - that another person was capable of bringing out such a powerful reaction in me. I couldn't say I wasn't curious about the forces behind it though. They fascinated me as much as they bewildered me. I admit there was a small part of me that wanted to shelve all of it, one that didn't find any interest in or want to be bothered with a connection to Bella. She was a distraction that had already proven how disturbing she could be to my concentration.
I was almost ashamed to admit how much time I'd spent thinking about her over the past few days. My thoughts were entirely cyclical. How was I supposed to determine a course of action with Bella when I couldn't even make up my own mind about what I wanted to happen? I'd considered several different approaches to the situation but found I wasn't satisfied with any of them. They all felt foreign and uncomfortable, like I was pretending to be someone else. By the time Thursday rolled around, I was still utterly clueless about everything to do with her.
I met Bella in the foyer of the library, and we found a quiet spot in the second floor's scientific journal section. It was a place I frequented, content with the lack of people in the area. Plus, I found the knowledge that surrounded me comforting on some level. Beyond the wisdom contained within the pages of the publications, the procedure in the research lent me a sense of acceptance and complacency. I felt at home here, like I could truly be myself.
"I've never even been up here before," Bella said quietly.
I set my backpack on the table and took a seat. "It's deserted. I find I get a lot more work done here."
"What are you studying?" she asked, taking the chair beside mine. She began to unpack her books.
"Brushing up on my chemistry for the final next week. You?"
She pointed to the textbook in front of her. "Spanish."
"Is it a favorite subject?" I wondered.
"Not especially. I'm decent enough at it, but I don't love it."
"What subject do you love?" It bothered me that I couldn't remember. It seemed like I should have been able to, but I was drawing a blank.
"English…and Biology." She blushed and looked down. I stared at her, not understanding her reaction. "I know it's a strange combination of things," she continued. "I love to read, so English comes easily. I don't know why I love biology. Maybe because I'm fascinated by how things work."
"Me, too," I agreed. Her answer surprised me. It was also rather ironic given the amount of time I'd spent during the last few days trying to figure out how things between the two of us worked.
Bella got right to studying, pulling out her Spanish textbook and practicing her verb conjugations. My attempts to balance the chemical equations in front of me were fruitless. I was too worried about figuring out what to say to concentrate. Bella didn't seem to share my problem. She was so thoroughly engrossed in what she was doing that I think a bomb could have gone off without her noticing.
My mind ping-ponged between the external pressure of making conversation and the internal pressure to find a way to analyze what Bella's kiss, and by extrapolation, what she herself made me feel. I was ineffectual with both topics, especially the latter. While the idea of simply kissing her again held some appeal, I wasn't nearly bold enough, and I was fairly certain the end result would be a recurrence of my intense reaction and the plethora of unanswered questions that followed. This realization brought out a small amount of dread and fear. I didn't need a resurgence of confusion. I needed answers, or at the very least, some kind of plan to get them. So far, preparing for something I had no understanding of was proving to be impossible.
"You know, for a boy who doesn't like attention, you sure stare a lot," she noted, looking up at me with an inquisitive expression.
"Sorry," I muttered. "I'm feeling a bit distracted. I'm not sure how much talking I should be doing."
"And staring seemed like a suitable alternative to conversation?" Her smile told me she was teasing, but I felt embarrassed anyway.
"Perhaps not suitable, but easier," I allowed, shifting uneasily in my chair.
"Do you find it hard to talk to me?" There was no accusation in her tone, just simple curiosity.
I struggled to find an explanation that would adequately explain my difficulties. I did find it hard to talk to her, but not just her - to anyone. "The difficulty is in knowing what to say. A lot of things run through my mind, but many of them are not appropriate to share."
"How are they inappropriate?" She stared at me while she waited for me to respond. She had a knack for getting the answers she was after, I had to give her that. She never came across as intrusive but always left me feeling like I couldn't avoid answering her directly. Maybe it was in the words she chose or the timbre of her quiet, mellifluous voice. I couldn't be sure. I was unsure about so many things when it came to Bella.
"Embarrassing, too much information, uninteresting," I offered. "Sometimes things in my head are just hints of something else, and I have to wait for my thoughts to solidify."
"You should let me be the judge of what is or isn't interesting to me," she suggested softly, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. "I might surprise you."
"You already have." The words slipped out unintentionally, before I could stop them. I found it hard to keep my opinions to myself in general, but with Bella, it was especially difficult. I felt a familiarity around her, one that precluded me from being anything but one hundred percent honest with her. Even when we were younger, I felt it.
Her eyebrows arched in surprise. "Really? How?"
"That's one of those 'too much information' things I should have kept to myself." I wished I had. In recent days, I had been paying very close attention to her. I didn't want to make my behavior any more obvious by pointing out how much I'd noticed.
"Oh, okay." She smiled and went back to her books.
"See, now that surprised me," I said without thinking again.
"What did?"
"You categorically accepting that I didn't want to give you any more information." I hadn't expected her to give up so easily. I certainly wouldn't have.
"You have the same right to privacy as anyone, Edward. And really, what recourse do I have if you don't want to tell me something? Do you want me to beat it out of you?" She raised one eyebrow at me and smirked.
"You used to be more stubborn," I pointed out.
"Ouch!" She feigned a grimace and giggled quietly.
"Sorry, but that's how I remember you."
"Maybe I used to be." She shrugged indifferently at the idea. "I probably used to be a lot of things that I'm not anymore. I think I grew up and realized that some things are a waste of energy."
"But you didn't think trying to reconnect with me was a waste of energy?" I wondered why it wasn't. Aside from the gratitude that resulted from helping her with Mike, I couldn't figure out what made striking up a friendship with me so important to her all of a sudden.
"It was a necessity," she said decidedly, looking up at me with her piercing brown eyes. "I never really understood why we stopped being friends in the first place."
"It was a long time ago." It felt more like a different lifetime.
"The way I remember it, we were friends one day, and the next day we weren't," she mumbled. "Not that I remember being ten years old that clearly."
"That is pretty much how it happened," I agreed, knitting my brows together. Despite my desire to drop this subject, I had a feeling it was going to re-familiarize me with Bella's stubbornness.
"Do you remember what happened?" Her voice was timid, hiding something in its quiet reticence.
"Yes." I nodded and looked down, training my eyes on the tabletop. I didn't like to think about that day at all. "We were at the park. I told you something that you didn't like hearing, and you told me we couldn't be friends any longer."
"We were on the swings," she added softly. "You told me you liked me, and I started crying. I must have seemed so horrible to you."
"Your reaction was confusing to me," I confirmed, keeping my gaze averted. "But only because I thought telling you was a good thing. Instead, it made you sad… Not that it matters anymore."
"It does matter," she insisted. "I shouldn't have ever let my parents' problems affect our friendship like that."
"Your parents' problems?" I asked, baffled by how our friendship related to them.
"That was only a day or two after my parents separated, and I was pretty messed up about it. My parents always seemed like they were the best of friends, so nothing about my mom leaving made sense to me. I was too young to recognize how selfish she was. I decided that you couldn't be friends with someone you liked because you'd lose twice if things didn't work out. So, when you told me you liked me, I thought we were going to end up like my parents. It was stupid of me, but when I tried to apologize a few days later, you wouldn't talk to me."
Hearing the reason behind her reaction that day made the whole disagreement seem so trivial, yet it marked the beginning of the end of a lot of things in my life that day. I looked up at her, feeling like I owed her some kind of explanation for my behavior, even though she hadn't asked for one directly.
"My family had plans to go out that night," I told her, swallowing hard to steel my voice against the pain that threatened to take over. "After our disagreement, I was too upset to go home. I don't remember where I went or what I did. I just sort of wandered around, trying to avoid thinking about how I was feeling. I went home when it began to get dark, but it was too late by then. My mother had already sent my father out to look for me. While he was searching, he got into a car accident and died."
"Oh my God! I had no idea. Edward, I'm so sorry."
"I've always felt responsible for my father's death," I confessed in a quiet voice. "And you're the first person I've ever been able to admit that to. I guess that's why I wouldn't talk to you afterward. I don't really remember that time very clearly."
"It's no wonder our friendship fell apart so suddenly, after what happened to us," she murmured. She leaned across the space between us and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. The gesture said more than any words could have. She wanted to take my pain away, and she wanted me to take hers. The two of us were the same, trapped by our feelings of responsibility for what happened to our parents. As awkward as it felt to me, I knew I should return the gesture. After a moment of hesitation, I let my arms slide tentatively around her waist.
"It wasn't your fault, Edward. You know that, right?" Her voice was quietly urgent against my ear. She squeezed me even tighter.
"No more than your parents' break up was yours. We were both just kids. We couldn't have understood what was going on," I replied. She nodded in agreement and laid her head on my shoulder. Her tears soaked through the fabric of my shirt a few seconds later, stripping me of any comfort I might have felt. I fought the urge to pull away from her. I didn't want to insult her, but I didn't know how to deal with the emotion she was lost in.
I realized I was wrong about our pain. On the surface, it seemed the same, but Bella's pain went much deeper than mine. My father was gone. For all intents and purposes, Bella was motherless, almost as if she had died the day she left, but she wasn't gone. She held and exercised the power to hurt Bella every day with her choice not to be a part of Bella's life. As much as I wanted to withdraw from Bella's crying, to distance myself from the source of my discomfort, it just seemed cruel. Instead, I waited for her to pull away.
"Thank you for understanding," she whispered when she withdrew from our embrace. She wiped her tear-streaked cheeks with her palms and sniffled, seeming a little embarrassed. "I didn't mean to be such a cry-baby."
"It's fine," I replied stoically. It really wasn't, but it was my choice to let her cry on my shoulder, and I wasn't about to make her feel worse for falling apart.
"That wasn't easy for you. I could tell," she said compassionately.
"Is there anything you don't notice?" I wondered rhetorically. I tried not to think about all of the other things she might have noticed that I didn't want her to.
She smiled and went back to her Spanish. My concentration was so poor that my chemistry may as well have been hieroglyphs. I was fidgety and on edge, feeling encumbered by Bella's outpouring of emotion and my own ineptitude. Bella was able to re-center herself by crying, but I couldn't think of an outlet to accomplish the task for myself. Running was my usual vice, but that wasn't a viable option right now.
Instead, I retreated into my head, letting my imagination busy itself with the science that surrounded me. Tens of shelves with hundreds of journals that contained thousands of interesting experiments, each one examining a specific question in a logical manner. Why couldn't life be more like science? I was at my best in that world. It would be so much easier if every action were designed to gather evidence that could be analyzed against a theory. That was how my brain worked. Emotion needlessly complicated things for me. If my relationship with Bella were an experiment, it would be easier to unravel its complexities. I would have hypotheses to guide me through the maze of interplay, and the evidence collected would provide proof to base my conclusions on. It would be everything I'd need to understand my reaction to Bella implicitly.
That was the only thing I was truly sure about - that I wanted to understand the effect she had on me. Whether I wanted to do anything about it, let alone advance things between us romantically, remained to be seen. I didn't think I would know what I wanted to do, with any clarity, until I had the understanding I was after.
Facts being what they were, my proclivity to social ineptness was the biggest stumbling block in any interaction with Bella. I was lousy with social conventions - continually doing or saying the wrong thing. I was bound to make those same mistakes with her, but if I could find a way to make their meaning less significant, then maybe I could explore whatever was between us without causing either one of us discomfort.
Bella didn't seem to mind that my social skills weren't polished. She claimed to suffer from the same affliction, but she was merely being humble. She was actually quite intuitive when it came to dealing with my eccentricities, sensing my awkwardness and smoothing out the bumps, without ever being asked to.
We were different in that way. I was an analytical problem solver, she, an intuitive one. My thinking advanced one step at a time, while she was able to perceive the whole problem at once. We would make a good pairing, in terms of analysis.
I liked the idea of the two of us as a team, working together towards a common goal. Our individual strengths were complementary. They would compensate for our respective shortcomings. My logical side would balance out her emotional one.
In truth, she could probably teach me a lot about emotion. She was well suited for the task. She was patient, compassionate, positive and encouraging - all of which were important qualities in a teacher. She also had a willingness to help others and an understanding attitude. But in order to help me, she'd have to have an open mind, as well.
I recognized that the notion of asking for someone else's help to understand my own emotions was strange. I just didn't know how to get to the bottom of this situation without assistance, and who better to aid me than the girl who brought it all out in me?
Of course, explaining my line of reasoning to her was out of the question, not in its current context anyway. Labeling what I felt before I understood it better would send a mixed message to Bella. I didn't want to change her expectations or the nature of our friendship prematurely.
I decided to look at the situation with Bella as if it were an experiment. After all, I needed to test my reaction to her, to substantiate and replicate it to authenticate its longevity and magnitude. The only way I could see accomplishing this was through some sort of physical relationship.
I admit I wasn't sure exactly how physical we'd need to get to understand things. I didn't know if a simplistic touch could arouse the same feelings in me as a kiss or how my reaction to Bella might change with increased intimacy. I already had several questions that I wanted answers to, and the number would likely multiply as our physical relationship progressed. I was never one to turn away from the opportunity to learn, and my curiosity about sex was as healthy as the next guy's. There had to be something to it or why would kids risk parenthood and communicable diseases for a thrill that was easily served by masturbation? Not that I thought things between Bella and me would necessarily get as far as intercourse, or needed to.
She had told me she was interested in sex. Maybe her desire to explore a sexual relationship would be enough of a draw for her to agree to what I was considering asking her. I was willing to agree to sex if that were something she required, plus it would give me the chance to explore it too. If we could both agree to the parameters upfront, we'd be going in with our eyes wide open - no coercion or manipulation. It would be a safe environment to explore sexual behavior and activities. If I got to a point where I felt I'd learned all I could or became uncomfortable for any reason, I would terminate things; we both should be able to, in order to be fair and supportive.
Despite how bizarre my idea was, I couldn't help but wonder if she would agree to help me. She'd made it clear on the phone that she was willing to lend a hand if I ever needed it. She'd admitted to being open to and interested in a sexual relationship with the right person. I couldn't offer her the love she felt she required, but I could offer respect, security and trust.
Bella was intelligent, self-possessed, and more than capable of making her own decisions. It would be entirely up to her to decide what she wanted. I was more than open to discussing any concerns she might have, but I certainly wouldn't force her to take part in any way. She had to be free to choose, or nothing about the idea would work.
I was deep in thought when Bella tapped my shoulder.
"Are you okay?" she asked, looking at me with a worried expression.
"Yes, why?"
"Your knee has been shaking the table for the past ten minutes," she informed me.
"Is it bothering you?" I hadn't even realized I was doing it.
"Only if it means you're upset about something. If this is too much for you, we can just head out," she offered.
"It's not too much, I just need… your patience." I needed more than that, but her patience would at least give me time to figure out how to bring up my idea to her.
"Sure." She smiled nervously at me and then looked down at her book. I wondered what I'd said that bothered her.
"Am I asking too much?"
"No. I guess I just feel responsible for upsetting you. It wasn't fair to unload on you. I have trouble controlling myself when I talk about my mother. She's my Achilles' heel. You'd think I would have learned not to give a shit by now. I don't want to care. I'd rather put all of the hurt she's caused my dad and me behind us, but it's impossible. My father still acts like she'll be back some day. He doesn't even seem angry with her for what she's done. I understand that he loves her, but he needs some perspective, not to mention some self-respect. Instead, he just goes on loving her and letting her hurt him every day."
"I thought you wanted to love someone like your father loves your mother?" I asked. I clearly remembered her telling me she thought the way her father loved her mother was beautiful.
"God, no," she insisted, unable to keep her revulsion out of her voice. "What gave you that impression?"
"You did. When we were waiting at the hospital, you said that when you fell in love, it would be for forever, just like your father."
Bella's cheeks burned scarlet. "I didn't mean to say that."
I wasn't sure why she was embarrassed. Her belief that once she fell in love, she would remain in love forever was of little consequence to me, and the fact that she'd shared it with me didn't seem worth getting upset about. "You also said that you thought love wasn't meant to be a part of your life."
"That sounds more like me," she murmured.
I found myself more curious than ever about her opinions on love and sex. Maybe it was because until she came back into my life, I thought I understood how I felt about both. Now, she had me questioning everything. "You defended love quite vehemently to me that night. You said that you wanted passion, devotion and adoration - something more than ordinary love."
"Are you trying to make me feel like an idiot?" she accused, glaring at me impatiently.
"Not at all. I'm simply trying to understand your viewpoint. I told you I thought love was a chemical reaction which our brains made into something more, and you told me that you didn't expect me to understand love because it wasn't logical or scientific."
"Well, it isn't," she concluded unconvincingly. "Not that I'd know what love is like. I'm not even sure I ever want to be in love. It has the power to ruin you."
I had assumed that Bella was searching for love after our conversation at the hospital, but maybe I was mistaken. The notion that it was of no interest to her leveled the playing field. She wasn't seeking an emotional connection, so there would be no disappointment if she didn't find one. It also meant that her expectations wouldn't have to change, despite any physical interactions between us. It could just be two friends helping one another. The only thing holding me back from sharing my idea now was whether she was still open to a sexual relationship.
"What about sex then?" I asked. My question caught her off guard. She swallowed the wrong way and choked.
"What about sex?" she sputtered between coughs, fighting to catch her breath.
"You told me that the only way you could give yourself to someone intimately was if you had total trust, and that you felt that sort of trust was only born in love."
She covered her face with her palms, and with tense fingers, she rubbed her forehead up and down a few times. She kept her face covered as she spoke. "So I suppose I mentioned that I was a virgin too?"
"You mentioned it. You also mentioned that you were interested in sex."
"Is there anything I didn't tell you?" she asked sarcastically.
"I'm a virgin too," I offered. The fact seemed trivial when we spoke in the ER, but now it was entirely relevant.
She looked up at me with a slightly exasperated glare, finally removing her hands from her face. "You'll have to pardon my lack of enthusiasm. Somehow that little tidbit brings me no comfort."
"There's nothing to be embarrassed about. Sex is a natural part of life. There is no reason that we can't discuss it as two rational adults," I asserted. We would need to be able to talk about it if she agreed to help me.
"Great." Bella laughed humorlessly, squeezed her eyes shut, and then shook her head.
"What?" I didn't understand her irritation.
"We can't talk about emotional things without upsetting one another, but you seem to think we should be able to talk about sex with no problem? Don't you think that's kind of strange?"
"I don't find it that strange, but I've never been what most people call normal." Normal was simply the most frequent behavior in a range of choices - not right or wrong, just more popular.
"I don't like the idea that you and I can only talk about impersonal things." Her voice was almost a whine, and I got the distinct feeling she wanted me to agree with her. I did, but probably not in the way the way she was thinking.
"You think sex is impersonal?" I challenged, knowing full well she thought the opposite.
"Now you're putting words into my mouth. I think friends should be able to talk about things that are important to them, especially personal things," she explained, her irritation settling her lips into a tiny pout.
"I agree in theory, but wouldn't sex fall under the category of personal?" I asked, steering the conversation in the direction I needed it to go.
"How personal can the topic of sex be between two virgins? We have no experience, no frame of reference, and zero chance of changing either on the horizon." She had a point, but I had a counterpoint.
"We need to create opportunity," I suggested.
"Excuse me?"
I swallowed hard, steeled my nerves, and introduced my idea. "A system of choices built on checks and balances, an experiment of sorts."
"I'm not following you," she said, her brow furrowed in confusion.
I knew this was all in the presentation. I had to find a way to relate it to her that would parallel her distinct thought process. "You believe that love and trust are the cornerstones of a sexual relationship, correct?"
"Yes," she agreed.
"What if we removed the notion of love from the table?" I proposed.
"I don't want to separate sex and love. I think they belong together." I expected this answer from her.
"I'm only suggesting a trial separation, nothing permanent."
"But if you remove love, what are you left with?" she wondered aloud. Her mind was open and curious. It was time to hit her with a more pointed idea.
"The question is whether two people who completely trust one another can share a fulfilling sexual experience without love being involved."
"Some people might be able to," she allowed.
"What if you and I were those two people?" I suggested, dropping the idea in her lap as gently as I could. Bella's eyes widened in shock. I gave her a moment to recover before I continued. "Obviously, it would have to be one hundred percent consensual, and I'm not suggesting we hurl ourselves headfirst into sex. I'm talking about a systematic path that would slowly build our comfort level and experience. Trust and respect are fundamental. Before we took any action, we'd have to agree on each step, and in order to remove the impediment of discomfort, we'd have to designate some kind of out, in the event that one of us changed our minds. No questions asked, of course."
"Of course," she sputtered sarcastically. "I mean you wouldn't want to feel awkward when having experimental sex."
"I've shocked you," I said, stating the obvious.
"A little," she admitted. "What you're suggesting isn't exactly what I meant when I told you I was interested in sex. In my mind, sex has always been about the connection between two people. Intimacy is supposed to mean something, isn't it?"
"Without experiencing it, how could either of us know?" I was being somewhat evasive answering her question. I knew, in theory, that intimacy was an important part of a physical relationship, but I believed that without experiencing it, the depth and importance of intimacy was virtually unfathomable.
"I don't even know if I'd be capable of something like this, Edward," she told me honestly.
"I don't know if I am either," I echoed. "Determining what each of us is capable of is all a part of the experiment. I might not be capable of anything more intimate than holding your hand. This is a learning experience, done with a safety net of trust and understanding."
"You make it sound so simple." She shook her head disapprovingly, while one finger traced the initials that had been carved into the tabletop.
"Not at all; it's the opposite of simple."
"Then why do it?" she questioned.
"We're both interested in exploring sex, but neither of us has an opportunity to do so. You believe fulfilling sex is based in love, and I think it's all based on technique. This experiment would answer that question and so much more," I defended passionately. "I'm so inexperienced that I don't even know how to kiss a woman properly. You could teach me that. You could teach me how a woman likes to be touched by helping me to discern the subtleties. Think of how much we stand to learn about the intricacies of intercourse itself by avoiding the complications of an emotional connection. I doubt that most people in a conventional coupled relationship can openly discuss technique. The risk of damage to the ego is too high."
"What you're saying makes sense on some level, I guess, if I were interested in building a repertoire of sexual techniques, but I'm not. I want sex to be emotive. I want that connection." If for no other reason than her ardent belief in the subject, I expected her admission to cause her cheeks to flush. I was almost disappointed by the absence of color. It meant there was more going on than what she was admitting. It also meant that I had to work harder at selling her the idea.
"You said yourself that you believed love wasn't meant to be a part of your life. What if that's true?" I asked. "Why deprive yourself of the experience because of circumstance? What I'm talking about allows you to experience the sexual fulfillment you desire without painful emotional attachment or risk of rejection."
"It provides me with that in theory, but I don't think you're looking at the bigger picture here, Edward. You're not even comfortable with saying hello to me at school. This just seems like a recipe for disaster for us, and I would hate to lose the chance to be friends again by biting off more than we can chew."
She had a point about my comfort level. Just because I believed I could get over it with a slow paced effort, didn't mean that it wouldn't be an issue, but that was why I wanted an out in place. I didn't want to force anything on either of us. Plus, this was the only idea I'd been able to come up with that I actually felt comfortable with. Of course, she didn't know the underlying motivation for me to take part in this experiment either. "I know what I'm suggesting is very unorthodox."
"Very," she whispered. Her eyes caught mine and held them, searching for something. I'm not sure what she found, but her tone changed. "I'm not saying no, but I'm not saying yes either. I need to think about it more."
"Of course," I agreed. She had every right to dissect the idea. The fact that she hadn't given me an outright 'no' left me feeling ridiculously positive.
"It's getting late. I should probably head out," she announced.
I'd been very selfishly monopolizing the conversation. I certainly didn't want her to think she had to leave to change the subject. "We don't have to talk about it any more if it's bothering you," I blurted.
She smiled warmly at me. "It's not that. I really do have to go. I've got to get home to make dinner for my dad."
"Oh," I said, feeling a little disappointed that our time together was over.
"Don't you have to get home for dinner?" she wondered.
"I'm on my own most nights," I said absently, preoccupied by my worry that I should convince her to take part in the experiment before she left or the opportunity might be lost.
"Would you like to eat at my house tonight?" she asked politely.
Having dinner with her was pointless. We couldn't talk about the experiment in front of her father. "Perhaps some other time, when your father is expecting me. Besides, you've probably had your fill of conversation with me for today."
"You're more than welcome to come," she insisted, closing her textbook and looking up at me. "I'm sure my dad wouldn't mind, but if you'd rather not, I understand. Maybe next time."
I watched as she packed up her things, mentally scrambling for something to say. She'd left the door open for further discussion about my idea, and I felt an urgency to capitalize on her indecision.
"I apologize if I offended you with my idea, Bella. You can see now why I said that some things that come into my head are better left there. It's this place," I explained. "When I get around the scientific journals, I start to think in terms of hypotheses and variables, and I get carried away."
"You didn't offend me, and I think the fact that your mind gets inspired when you're surrounded by knowledge is pretty cool," she said, her voice shyly quiet.
"Really?" I asked.
"Really," she assured me. "Thanks for this afternoon. I'm glad that we had the chance to catch up a little bit."
"I am, too. I found it much easier to talk with you than I do with most people." I smiled widely at her to convey my enjoyment.
With a soft smile, she got up to go. I quickly gathered my books so I could walk out with her. Even though I was intent on continuing our conversation, the quiet of the library forced our silence. The awkwardness I normally felt had returned by the time we reached our cars, and I struggled to find the words to say goodbye. I was uncomfortable not knowing what she was thinking about what I'd proposed. An idea struck, far less unorthodox than my previous.
"I was planning to go for a run after school tomorrow, from my house to Tillicum Park and back. Did you want to join me?"
She accepted my invitation. Maybe I would be able to convince her of the value in my proposed experiment tomorrow.
A/N: Reviews are not better than experimental sex with Aloof Geekward, but they might get you to that lemon faster ;) Just click the review button and make me smile!
Author: Picklewinkle (ff.net)/JCAddict (LJ)
Characters/Pairing: Edward & Bella
Rating: M
Category: Drama/Angst/Romance
Spoilers: None
Summary: Edward Cullen is brilliant and complicated but also closed off and socially inept. Can Bella teach him how to tap into and understand his emotions through an unorthodox experiment without breaking her own heart in the process? AH.
Chapter 5: Hypothesis; I Blame The Journals
DISCLAIMER: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. The remainder of the words, plot and lackluster formatting belong to me.
I wanted to take this chance to thank Project Team Beta for all of their help with this story. I have been blessed with two of the best Permanent Betas now, so I'd like to take a second to introduce Ms. LightStarDusting and Ms. Scorp112. These two fantastic ladies are made of awesome. Their input has been invaluable, especially on this chapter. It was important to me to get it just right, and thanks to them, it is.
Thanks to everyone who has been reading and reviewing. I love hearing from you guys very much and sincerely appreciate the support.
Chapter 5: Hypothesis; I Blame The Journals
EPOV
Bella and I came to a truce of sorts at school. She said hello and smiled when we passed in the hallways. I would nod or smile in return. She didn't wait by my car or approach me in the cafeteria, even though the fact that I ate by myself would have made it easy for her to do so. She seemed to understand that it was a comfort level thing with me, or that's what I told myself. Maybe she just didn't want to start another fight.
I vacillated between thinking I was an idiot for even entertaining the idea of exploring what Bella made me feel and trying to figure out the best way to approach the subject with her. To say that it felt awkward was a vast understatement. It felt downright unnatural for me most of the time. My reaction to her left me feeling confused and irrational, sometimes even temperamental. It was the desire to understand why that secured my perseverance.
I wasn't without reservations. I was uncomfortable with the notion that a kiss could have such a strong effect on me - that another person was capable of bringing out such a powerful reaction in me. I couldn't say I wasn't curious about the forces behind it though. They fascinated me as much as they bewildered me. I admit there was a small part of me that wanted to shelve all of it, one that didn't find any interest in or want to be bothered with a connection to Bella. She was a distraction that had already proven how disturbing she could be to my concentration.
I was almost ashamed to admit how much time I'd spent thinking about her over the past few days. My thoughts were entirely cyclical. How was I supposed to determine a course of action with Bella when I couldn't even make up my own mind about what I wanted to happen? I'd considered several different approaches to the situation but found I wasn't satisfied with any of them. They all felt foreign and uncomfortable, like I was pretending to be someone else. By the time Thursday rolled around, I was still utterly clueless about everything to do with her.
I met Bella in the foyer of the library, and we found a quiet spot in the second floor's scientific journal section. It was a place I frequented, content with the lack of people in the area. Plus, I found the knowledge that surrounded me comforting on some level. Beyond the wisdom contained within the pages of the publications, the procedure in the research lent me a sense of acceptance and complacency. I felt at home here, like I could truly be myself.
"I've never even been up here before," Bella said quietly.
I set my backpack on the table and took a seat. "It's deserted. I find I get a lot more work done here."
"What are you studying?" she asked, taking the chair beside mine. She began to unpack her books.
"Brushing up on my chemistry for the final next week. You?"
She pointed to the textbook in front of her. "Spanish."
"Is it a favorite subject?" I wondered.
"Not especially. I'm decent enough at it, but I don't love it."
"What subject do you love?" It bothered me that I couldn't remember. It seemed like I should have been able to, but I was drawing a blank.
"English…and Biology." She blushed and looked down. I stared at her, not understanding her reaction. "I know it's a strange combination of things," she continued. "I love to read, so English comes easily. I don't know why I love biology. Maybe because I'm fascinated by how things work."
"Me, too," I agreed. Her answer surprised me. It was also rather ironic given the amount of time I'd spent during the last few days trying to figure out how things between the two of us worked.
Bella got right to studying, pulling out her Spanish textbook and practicing her verb conjugations. My attempts to balance the chemical equations in front of me were fruitless. I was too worried about figuring out what to say to concentrate. Bella didn't seem to share my problem. She was so thoroughly engrossed in what she was doing that I think a bomb could have gone off without her noticing.
My mind ping-ponged between the external pressure of making conversation and the internal pressure to find a way to analyze what Bella's kiss, and by extrapolation, what she herself made me feel. I was ineffectual with both topics, especially the latter. While the idea of simply kissing her again held some appeal, I wasn't nearly bold enough, and I was fairly certain the end result would be a recurrence of my intense reaction and the plethora of unanswered questions that followed. This realization brought out a small amount of dread and fear. I didn't need a resurgence of confusion. I needed answers, or at the very least, some kind of plan to get them. So far, preparing for something I had no understanding of was proving to be impossible.
"You know, for a boy who doesn't like attention, you sure stare a lot," she noted, looking up at me with an inquisitive expression.
"Sorry," I muttered. "I'm feeling a bit distracted. I'm not sure how much talking I should be doing."
"And staring seemed like a suitable alternative to conversation?" Her smile told me she was teasing, but I felt embarrassed anyway.
"Perhaps not suitable, but easier," I allowed, shifting uneasily in my chair.
"Do you find it hard to talk to me?" There was no accusation in her tone, just simple curiosity.
I struggled to find an explanation that would adequately explain my difficulties. I did find it hard to talk to her, but not just her - to anyone. "The difficulty is in knowing what to say. A lot of things run through my mind, but many of them are not appropriate to share."
"How are they inappropriate?" She stared at me while she waited for me to respond. She had a knack for getting the answers she was after, I had to give her that. She never came across as intrusive but always left me feeling like I couldn't avoid answering her directly. Maybe it was in the words she chose or the timbre of her quiet, mellifluous voice. I couldn't be sure. I was unsure about so many things when it came to Bella.
"Embarrassing, too much information, uninteresting," I offered. "Sometimes things in my head are just hints of something else, and I have to wait for my thoughts to solidify."
"You should let me be the judge of what is or isn't interesting to me," she suggested softly, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. "I might surprise you."
"You already have." The words slipped out unintentionally, before I could stop them. I found it hard to keep my opinions to myself in general, but with Bella, it was especially difficult. I felt a familiarity around her, one that precluded me from being anything but one hundred percent honest with her. Even when we were younger, I felt it.
Her eyebrows arched in surprise. "Really? How?"
"That's one of those 'too much information' things I should have kept to myself." I wished I had. In recent days, I had been paying very close attention to her. I didn't want to make my behavior any more obvious by pointing out how much I'd noticed.
"Oh, okay." She smiled and went back to her books.
"See, now that surprised me," I said without thinking again.
"What did?"
"You categorically accepting that I didn't want to give you any more information." I hadn't expected her to give up so easily. I certainly wouldn't have.
"You have the same right to privacy as anyone, Edward. And really, what recourse do I have if you don't want to tell me something? Do you want me to beat it out of you?" She raised one eyebrow at me and smirked.
"You used to be more stubborn," I pointed out.
"Ouch!" She feigned a grimace and giggled quietly.
"Sorry, but that's how I remember you."
"Maybe I used to be." She shrugged indifferently at the idea. "I probably used to be a lot of things that I'm not anymore. I think I grew up and realized that some things are a waste of energy."
"But you didn't think trying to reconnect with me was a waste of energy?" I wondered why it wasn't. Aside from the gratitude that resulted from helping her with Mike, I couldn't figure out what made striking up a friendship with me so important to her all of a sudden.
"It was a necessity," she said decidedly, looking up at me with her piercing brown eyes. "I never really understood why we stopped being friends in the first place."
"It was a long time ago." It felt more like a different lifetime.
"The way I remember it, we were friends one day, and the next day we weren't," she mumbled. "Not that I remember being ten years old that clearly."
"That is pretty much how it happened," I agreed, knitting my brows together. Despite my desire to drop this subject, I had a feeling it was going to re-familiarize me with Bella's stubbornness.
"Do you remember what happened?" Her voice was timid, hiding something in its quiet reticence.
"Yes." I nodded and looked down, training my eyes on the tabletop. I didn't like to think about that day at all. "We were at the park. I told you something that you didn't like hearing, and you told me we couldn't be friends any longer."
"We were on the swings," she added softly. "You told me you liked me, and I started crying. I must have seemed so horrible to you."
"Your reaction was confusing to me," I confirmed, keeping my gaze averted. "But only because I thought telling you was a good thing. Instead, it made you sad… Not that it matters anymore."
"It does matter," she insisted. "I shouldn't have ever let my parents' problems affect our friendship like that."
"Your parents' problems?" I asked, baffled by how our friendship related to them.
"That was only a day or two after my parents separated, and I was pretty messed up about it. My parents always seemed like they were the best of friends, so nothing about my mom leaving made sense to me. I was too young to recognize how selfish she was. I decided that you couldn't be friends with someone you liked because you'd lose twice if things didn't work out. So, when you told me you liked me, I thought we were going to end up like my parents. It was stupid of me, but when I tried to apologize a few days later, you wouldn't talk to me."
Hearing the reason behind her reaction that day made the whole disagreement seem so trivial, yet it marked the beginning of the end of a lot of things in my life that day. I looked up at her, feeling like I owed her some kind of explanation for my behavior, even though she hadn't asked for one directly.
"My family had plans to go out that night," I told her, swallowing hard to steel my voice against the pain that threatened to take over. "After our disagreement, I was too upset to go home. I don't remember where I went or what I did. I just sort of wandered around, trying to avoid thinking about how I was feeling. I went home when it began to get dark, but it was too late by then. My mother had already sent my father out to look for me. While he was searching, he got into a car accident and died."
"Oh my God! I had no idea. Edward, I'm so sorry."
"I've always felt responsible for my father's death," I confessed in a quiet voice. "And you're the first person I've ever been able to admit that to. I guess that's why I wouldn't talk to you afterward. I don't really remember that time very clearly."
"It's no wonder our friendship fell apart so suddenly, after what happened to us," she murmured. She leaned across the space between us and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. The gesture said more than any words could have. She wanted to take my pain away, and she wanted me to take hers. The two of us were the same, trapped by our feelings of responsibility for what happened to our parents. As awkward as it felt to me, I knew I should return the gesture. After a moment of hesitation, I let my arms slide tentatively around her waist.
"It wasn't your fault, Edward. You know that, right?" Her voice was quietly urgent against my ear. She squeezed me even tighter.
"No more than your parents' break up was yours. We were both just kids. We couldn't have understood what was going on," I replied. She nodded in agreement and laid her head on my shoulder. Her tears soaked through the fabric of my shirt a few seconds later, stripping me of any comfort I might have felt. I fought the urge to pull away from her. I didn't want to insult her, but I didn't know how to deal with the emotion she was lost in.
I realized I was wrong about our pain. On the surface, it seemed the same, but Bella's pain went much deeper than mine. My father was gone. For all intents and purposes, Bella was motherless, almost as if she had died the day she left, but she wasn't gone. She held and exercised the power to hurt Bella every day with her choice not to be a part of Bella's life. As much as I wanted to withdraw from Bella's crying, to distance myself from the source of my discomfort, it just seemed cruel. Instead, I waited for her to pull away.
"Thank you for understanding," she whispered when she withdrew from our embrace. She wiped her tear-streaked cheeks with her palms and sniffled, seeming a little embarrassed. "I didn't mean to be such a cry-baby."
"It's fine," I replied stoically. It really wasn't, but it was my choice to let her cry on my shoulder, and I wasn't about to make her feel worse for falling apart.
"That wasn't easy for you. I could tell," she said compassionately.
"Is there anything you don't notice?" I wondered rhetorically. I tried not to think about all of the other things she might have noticed that I didn't want her to.
She smiled and went back to her Spanish. My concentration was so poor that my chemistry may as well have been hieroglyphs. I was fidgety and on edge, feeling encumbered by Bella's outpouring of emotion and my own ineptitude. Bella was able to re-center herself by crying, but I couldn't think of an outlet to accomplish the task for myself. Running was my usual vice, but that wasn't a viable option right now.
Instead, I retreated into my head, letting my imagination busy itself with the science that surrounded me. Tens of shelves with hundreds of journals that contained thousands of interesting experiments, each one examining a specific question in a logical manner. Why couldn't life be more like science? I was at my best in that world. It would be so much easier if every action were designed to gather evidence that could be analyzed against a theory. That was how my brain worked. Emotion needlessly complicated things for me. If my relationship with Bella were an experiment, it would be easier to unravel its complexities. I would have hypotheses to guide me through the maze of interplay, and the evidence collected would provide proof to base my conclusions on. It would be everything I'd need to understand my reaction to Bella implicitly.
That was the only thing I was truly sure about - that I wanted to understand the effect she had on me. Whether I wanted to do anything about it, let alone advance things between us romantically, remained to be seen. I didn't think I would know what I wanted to do, with any clarity, until I had the understanding I was after.
Facts being what they were, my proclivity to social ineptness was the biggest stumbling block in any interaction with Bella. I was lousy with social conventions - continually doing or saying the wrong thing. I was bound to make those same mistakes with her, but if I could find a way to make their meaning less significant, then maybe I could explore whatever was between us without causing either one of us discomfort.
Bella didn't seem to mind that my social skills weren't polished. She claimed to suffer from the same affliction, but she was merely being humble. She was actually quite intuitive when it came to dealing with my eccentricities, sensing my awkwardness and smoothing out the bumps, without ever being asked to.
We were different in that way. I was an analytical problem solver, she, an intuitive one. My thinking advanced one step at a time, while she was able to perceive the whole problem at once. We would make a good pairing, in terms of analysis.
I liked the idea of the two of us as a team, working together towards a common goal. Our individual strengths were complementary. They would compensate for our respective shortcomings. My logical side would balance out her emotional one.
In truth, she could probably teach me a lot about emotion. She was well suited for the task. She was patient, compassionate, positive and encouraging - all of which were important qualities in a teacher. She also had a willingness to help others and an understanding attitude. But in order to help me, she'd have to have an open mind, as well.
I recognized that the notion of asking for someone else's help to understand my own emotions was strange. I just didn't know how to get to the bottom of this situation without assistance, and who better to aid me than the girl who brought it all out in me?
Of course, explaining my line of reasoning to her was out of the question, not in its current context anyway. Labeling what I felt before I understood it better would send a mixed message to Bella. I didn't want to change her expectations or the nature of our friendship prematurely.
I decided to look at the situation with Bella as if it were an experiment. After all, I needed to test my reaction to her, to substantiate and replicate it to authenticate its longevity and magnitude. The only way I could see accomplishing this was through some sort of physical relationship.
I admit I wasn't sure exactly how physical we'd need to get to understand things. I didn't know if a simplistic touch could arouse the same feelings in me as a kiss or how my reaction to Bella might change with increased intimacy. I already had several questions that I wanted answers to, and the number would likely multiply as our physical relationship progressed. I was never one to turn away from the opportunity to learn, and my curiosity about sex was as healthy as the next guy's. There had to be something to it or why would kids risk parenthood and communicable diseases for a thrill that was easily served by masturbation? Not that I thought things between Bella and me would necessarily get as far as intercourse, or needed to.
She had told me she was interested in sex. Maybe her desire to explore a sexual relationship would be enough of a draw for her to agree to what I was considering asking her. I was willing to agree to sex if that were something she required, plus it would give me the chance to explore it too. If we could both agree to the parameters upfront, we'd be going in with our eyes wide open - no coercion or manipulation. It would be a safe environment to explore sexual behavior and activities. If I got to a point where I felt I'd learned all I could or became uncomfortable for any reason, I would terminate things; we both should be able to, in order to be fair and supportive.
Despite how bizarre my idea was, I couldn't help but wonder if she would agree to help me. She'd made it clear on the phone that she was willing to lend a hand if I ever needed it. She'd admitted to being open to and interested in a sexual relationship with the right person. I couldn't offer her the love she felt she required, but I could offer respect, security and trust.
Bella was intelligent, self-possessed, and more than capable of making her own decisions. It would be entirely up to her to decide what she wanted. I was more than open to discussing any concerns she might have, but I certainly wouldn't force her to take part in any way. She had to be free to choose, or nothing about the idea would work.
I was deep in thought when Bella tapped my shoulder.
"Are you okay?" she asked, looking at me with a worried expression.
"Yes, why?"
"Your knee has been shaking the table for the past ten minutes," she informed me.
"Is it bothering you?" I hadn't even realized I was doing it.
"Only if it means you're upset about something. If this is too much for you, we can just head out," she offered.
"It's not too much, I just need… your patience." I needed more than that, but her patience would at least give me time to figure out how to bring up my idea to her.
"Sure." She smiled nervously at me and then looked down at her book. I wondered what I'd said that bothered her.
"Am I asking too much?"
"No. I guess I just feel responsible for upsetting you. It wasn't fair to unload on you. I have trouble controlling myself when I talk about my mother. She's my Achilles' heel. You'd think I would have learned not to give a shit by now. I don't want to care. I'd rather put all of the hurt she's caused my dad and me behind us, but it's impossible. My father still acts like she'll be back some day. He doesn't even seem angry with her for what she's done. I understand that he loves her, but he needs some perspective, not to mention some self-respect. Instead, he just goes on loving her and letting her hurt him every day."
"I thought you wanted to love someone like your father loves your mother?" I asked. I clearly remembered her telling me she thought the way her father loved her mother was beautiful.
"God, no," she insisted, unable to keep her revulsion out of her voice. "What gave you that impression?"
"You did. When we were waiting at the hospital, you said that when you fell in love, it would be for forever, just like your father."
Bella's cheeks burned scarlet. "I didn't mean to say that."
I wasn't sure why she was embarrassed. Her belief that once she fell in love, she would remain in love forever was of little consequence to me, and the fact that she'd shared it with me didn't seem worth getting upset about. "You also said that you thought love wasn't meant to be a part of your life."
"That sounds more like me," she murmured.
I found myself more curious than ever about her opinions on love and sex. Maybe it was because until she came back into my life, I thought I understood how I felt about both. Now, she had me questioning everything. "You defended love quite vehemently to me that night. You said that you wanted passion, devotion and adoration - something more than ordinary love."
"Are you trying to make me feel like an idiot?" she accused, glaring at me impatiently.
"Not at all. I'm simply trying to understand your viewpoint. I told you I thought love was a chemical reaction which our brains made into something more, and you told me that you didn't expect me to understand love because it wasn't logical or scientific."
"Well, it isn't," she concluded unconvincingly. "Not that I'd know what love is like. I'm not even sure I ever want to be in love. It has the power to ruin you."
I had assumed that Bella was searching for love after our conversation at the hospital, but maybe I was mistaken. The notion that it was of no interest to her leveled the playing field. She wasn't seeking an emotional connection, so there would be no disappointment if she didn't find one. It also meant that her expectations wouldn't have to change, despite any physical interactions between us. It could just be two friends helping one another. The only thing holding me back from sharing my idea now was whether she was still open to a sexual relationship.
"What about sex then?" I asked. My question caught her off guard. She swallowed the wrong way and choked.
"What about sex?" she sputtered between coughs, fighting to catch her breath.
"You told me that the only way you could give yourself to someone intimately was if you had total trust, and that you felt that sort of trust was only born in love."
She covered her face with her palms, and with tense fingers, she rubbed her forehead up and down a few times. She kept her face covered as she spoke. "So I suppose I mentioned that I was a virgin too?"
"You mentioned it. You also mentioned that you were interested in sex."
"Is there anything I didn't tell you?" she asked sarcastically.
"I'm a virgin too," I offered. The fact seemed trivial when we spoke in the ER, but now it was entirely relevant.
She looked up at me with a slightly exasperated glare, finally removing her hands from her face. "You'll have to pardon my lack of enthusiasm. Somehow that little tidbit brings me no comfort."
"There's nothing to be embarrassed about. Sex is a natural part of life. There is no reason that we can't discuss it as two rational adults," I asserted. We would need to be able to talk about it if she agreed to help me.
"Great." Bella laughed humorlessly, squeezed her eyes shut, and then shook her head.
"What?" I didn't understand her irritation.
"We can't talk about emotional things without upsetting one another, but you seem to think we should be able to talk about sex with no problem? Don't you think that's kind of strange?"
"I don't find it that strange, but I've never been what most people call normal." Normal was simply the most frequent behavior in a range of choices - not right or wrong, just more popular.
"I don't like the idea that you and I can only talk about impersonal things." Her voice was almost a whine, and I got the distinct feeling she wanted me to agree with her. I did, but probably not in the way the way she was thinking.
"You think sex is impersonal?" I challenged, knowing full well she thought the opposite.
"Now you're putting words into my mouth. I think friends should be able to talk about things that are important to them, especially personal things," she explained, her irritation settling her lips into a tiny pout.
"I agree in theory, but wouldn't sex fall under the category of personal?" I asked, steering the conversation in the direction I needed it to go.
"How personal can the topic of sex be between two virgins? We have no experience, no frame of reference, and zero chance of changing either on the horizon." She had a point, but I had a counterpoint.
"We need to create opportunity," I suggested.
"Excuse me?"
I swallowed hard, steeled my nerves, and introduced my idea. "A system of choices built on checks and balances, an experiment of sorts."
"I'm not following you," she said, her brow furrowed in confusion.
I knew this was all in the presentation. I had to find a way to relate it to her that would parallel her distinct thought process. "You believe that love and trust are the cornerstones of a sexual relationship, correct?"
"Yes," she agreed.
"What if we removed the notion of love from the table?" I proposed.
"I don't want to separate sex and love. I think they belong together." I expected this answer from her.
"I'm only suggesting a trial separation, nothing permanent."
"But if you remove love, what are you left with?" she wondered aloud. Her mind was open and curious. It was time to hit her with a more pointed idea.
"The question is whether two people who completely trust one another can share a fulfilling sexual experience without love being involved."
"Some people might be able to," she allowed.
"What if you and I were those two people?" I suggested, dropping the idea in her lap as gently as I could. Bella's eyes widened in shock. I gave her a moment to recover before I continued. "Obviously, it would have to be one hundred percent consensual, and I'm not suggesting we hurl ourselves headfirst into sex. I'm talking about a systematic path that would slowly build our comfort level and experience. Trust and respect are fundamental. Before we took any action, we'd have to agree on each step, and in order to remove the impediment of discomfort, we'd have to designate some kind of out, in the event that one of us changed our minds. No questions asked, of course."
"Of course," she sputtered sarcastically. "I mean you wouldn't want to feel awkward when having experimental sex."
"I've shocked you," I said, stating the obvious.
"A little," she admitted. "What you're suggesting isn't exactly what I meant when I told you I was interested in sex. In my mind, sex has always been about the connection between two people. Intimacy is supposed to mean something, isn't it?"
"Without experiencing it, how could either of us know?" I was being somewhat evasive answering her question. I knew, in theory, that intimacy was an important part of a physical relationship, but I believed that without experiencing it, the depth and importance of intimacy was virtually unfathomable.
"I don't even know if I'd be capable of something like this, Edward," she told me honestly.
"I don't know if I am either," I echoed. "Determining what each of us is capable of is all a part of the experiment. I might not be capable of anything more intimate than holding your hand. This is a learning experience, done with a safety net of trust and understanding."
"You make it sound so simple." She shook her head disapprovingly, while one finger traced the initials that had been carved into the tabletop.
"Not at all; it's the opposite of simple."
"Then why do it?" she questioned.
"We're both interested in exploring sex, but neither of us has an opportunity to do so. You believe fulfilling sex is based in love, and I think it's all based on technique. This experiment would answer that question and so much more," I defended passionately. "I'm so inexperienced that I don't even know how to kiss a woman properly. You could teach me that. You could teach me how a woman likes to be touched by helping me to discern the subtleties. Think of how much we stand to learn about the intricacies of intercourse itself by avoiding the complications of an emotional connection. I doubt that most people in a conventional coupled relationship can openly discuss technique. The risk of damage to the ego is too high."
"What you're saying makes sense on some level, I guess, if I were interested in building a repertoire of sexual techniques, but I'm not. I want sex to be emotive. I want that connection." If for no other reason than her ardent belief in the subject, I expected her admission to cause her cheeks to flush. I was almost disappointed by the absence of color. It meant there was more going on than what she was admitting. It also meant that I had to work harder at selling her the idea.
"You said yourself that you believed love wasn't meant to be a part of your life. What if that's true?" I asked. "Why deprive yourself of the experience because of circumstance? What I'm talking about allows you to experience the sexual fulfillment you desire without painful emotional attachment or risk of rejection."
"It provides me with that in theory, but I don't think you're looking at the bigger picture here, Edward. You're not even comfortable with saying hello to me at school. This just seems like a recipe for disaster for us, and I would hate to lose the chance to be friends again by biting off more than we can chew."
She had a point about my comfort level. Just because I believed I could get over it with a slow paced effort, didn't mean that it wouldn't be an issue, but that was why I wanted an out in place. I didn't want to force anything on either of us. Plus, this was the only idea I'd been able to come up with that I actually felt comfortable with. Of course, she didn't know the underlying motivation for me to take part in this experiment either. "I know what I'm suggesting is very unorthodox."
"Very," she whispered. Her eyes caught mine and held them, searching for something. I'm not sure what she found, but her tone changed. "I'm not saying no, but I'm not saying yes either. I need to think about it more."
"Of course," I agreed. She had every right to dissect the idea. The fact that she hadn't given me an outright 'no' left me feeling ridiculously positive.
"It's getting late. I should probably head out," she announced.
I'd been very selfishly monopolizing the conversation. I certainly didn't want her to think she had to leave to change the subject. "We don't have to talk about it any more if it's bothering you," I blurted.
She smiled warmly at me. "It's not that. I really do have to go. I've got to get home to make dinner for my dad."
"Oh," I said, feeling a little disappointed that our time together was over.
"Don't you have to get home for dinner?" she wondered.
"I'm on my own most nights," I said absently, preoccupied by my worry that I should convince her to take part in the experiment before she left or the opportunity might be lost.
"Would you like to eat at my house tonight?" she asked politely.
Having dinner with her was pointless. We couldn't talk about the experiment in front of her father. "Perhaps some other time, when your father is expecting me. Besides, you've probably had your fill of conversation with me for today."
"You're more than welcome to come," she insisted, closing her textbook and looking up at me. "I'm sure my dad wouldn't mind, but if you'd rather not, I understand. Maybe next time."
I watched as she packed up her things, mentally scrambling for something to say. She'd left the door open for further discussion about my idea, and I felt an urgency to capitalize on her indecision.
"I apologize if I offended you with my idea, Bella. You can see now why I said that some things that come into my head are better left there. It's this place," I explained. "When I get around the scientific journals, I start to think in terms of hypotheses and variables, and I get carried away."
"You didn't offend me, and I think the fact that your mind gets inspired when you're surrounded by knowledge is pretty cool," she said, her voice shyly quiet.
"Really?" I asked.
"Really," she assured me. "Thanks for this afternoon. I'm glad that we had the chance to catch up a little bit."
"I am, too. I found it much easier to talk with you than I do with most people." I smiled widely at her to convey my enjoyment.
With a soft smile, she got up to go. I quickly gathered my books so I could walk out with her. Even though I was intent on continuing our conversation, the quiet of the library forced our silence. The awkwardness I normally felt had returned by the time we reached our cars, and I struggled to find the words to say goodbye. I was uncomfortable not knowing what she was thinking about what I'd proposed. An idea struck, far less unorthodox than my previous.
"I was planning to go for a run after school tomorrow, from my house to Tillicum Park and back. Did you want to join me?"
She accepted my invitation. Maybe I would be able to convince her of the value in my proposed experiment tomorrow.
A/N: Reviews are not better than experimental sex with Aloof Geekward, but they might get you to that lemon faster ;) Just click the review button and make me smile!