My body is singing, my pulse drumming with the music as I look around Edward's apartment with new eyes. My mind rebels against the thought of one person owning all of this as my eyes settle on a vase of fresh tulips at the end of the bar.
I seek him out automatically and find him across the room, his head bent low as he whispers to a woman. She cuts her eyes to me and back to him smoothly.
He nods toward Garrett; she nods to him.
His hand is hot on my back when he returns. "Let's go."
The ribbon binding the mask to my face snaps with a flick of Edward's wrist. My ear stings, capturing my attention before I realize he is standing right there.
His breath is hot against my cheek, whiskey and promise. His eyes are fixed, locked onto mine, and I wonder what he sees. His eyes reveal confusion and purpose. Resolve.
I marvel at the disappointment that crushes something so very close to my heart.
I don't even know him.
But I want to.
There is no warning. Warm lips claim mine, hard and needy like the want pressed against my hip.
"I don't understand."
"Yes," he says calmly, "you do. Don't pretend."
He turns his back, straightens his mask over his cheeks, and moves toward the glass door.
I step in front of him. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"
"My apartment." The infuriating control is still there. He brushes me aside, but when he takes his next step, I am there. He bumps into my chest, and his eyes flash.
I relish his anger.
"I'm finished with you," he growls. "Let me get on with my life."
"I don't think you can," I answer, bravado bolstering my words.
"Tell me why." My voice is no longer baffled but beseeching.
He studies me far too long, his eyes feasting. "It wasn't some high school crush," he says simply.
I wonder if I will ever understand him.
A crooked grin says he sees through me, though, and he motions toward the door. "Look at Garrett," he murmurs. "Really look."
I see chin-length sandy blond hair, a slender build. I know his blue eyes are gorgeous. I say so.
"He's a poor imitation," Edward says gruffly. "They all are."
I turn to face him and find his eyes boring into mine.
The abrupt change baffles me, and I wish for the venom once more. For some impenetrable reason, I don't want to leave.
A new level of control courses through his veins, visible in the angle of his chin and the dispassion in his eyes.
"Jasper…" His voice betrays him, caressing my name. He stops abruptly. "Please just…leave. I'm not that lost kid anymore. Seeing you here, in my apartment…" His jaw clenches, and my eyes widen.
"Yours?" I peer back through the glass door at vaulted ceilings, obvious wealth.
"I'm doing well," he answers wryly.
His tone makes me smile.
My ramblings help neutralize the acid in his tone. I struggle to understand why a callous, rude encounter with a friend's older brother would leave him so broken that fifteen years later he is still lashing out.
He keeps me at a distance, trying to hide the power that I have over him even now.
The oppressive air is replaced with my own guilt, weighing on my shoulders until my knees buckle.
I hear the accusations, even those he doesn't voice, and I have no choice but to agree.
A hand covers his eyes. The fight leaves him. "Just go."
"I was nineteen," I finally say, though I don't know why. I need some way to lessen the blame, curb the hate I see in his eyes, but I know they are the wrong words.
I see him so clearly now, just a boy. Fourteen, maybe fifteen.
Each time I delve into my memory, I grapple another monster venturing from the bottomless depths. I speak without awareness, narrating my journey.
Hoping he'll understand.
Home from college, newly out. Riding a high of freedom and pride and possibility.
His voice is a low, cutting rasp. "That's why I thought you'd understand."
