Don't Look / No Promises

Eleven

Bella

Edward parked the Bird and turned to Bella, a sly smile on his face.

“I gotta run inside. I’ll be fast.” He kissed her mouth, squeezed her leg, and loped into the building across the lot, sexy in those jeans and that hair and the swagger. Bella toyed with the radio and stuck her feet out the window and imagined Edward kissing her between her legs. So far, that was her favorite thing of all the things he did to her. He did a lot to her, actually, and it all felt good, better than before, better than ever before every single time, but his mouth on her pussy was beyond it all. Way beyond. There was a spot on her down there, a spot that he seemed to know about, and he toyed with her until she broke and was smashing his head between her thighs, crying out, clawing the sheets, the car, the grass, his hair.

She was pretty sure she was in love.

Something moved at the building entrance and she expected him, it was him, but he wasn’t alone. A spill of one, then four, then nine, then more boys spilled out of the doorway, all of them already locked in battle, some of them already bloodied. A roiling sea of fists and feet and the broken off legs of chairs tumbling into the parking lots, screaming and yelling and faces hitting the concrete.

Bella scrambled upright, breathing fast.

Someone smashed right up against the driver’s side door, a boy bleeding down his face. His eyes went wide when he spotted Bella and he reached in through the open window to grab for her foot. She screamed and kicked him in the nose. Fresh blood, but it didn’t deter him. He wrenched the door open and dove inside, Bella screaming and kicking with her back up against her own door and nowhere to go. He got a grip on her ankle and was about to pull her loose when he went limp and still instead, head heavy in her lap. Bella squirmed, wrenching the door handle and all but falling onto the pavement. She scrambled to her feet and Jacob was panting on the other side of the car.

“Get outta here. I don’t even know why he brought you,” Jacob hissed and Bella yelled just in time for him to miss a swing from some polo-shirted asshole coming up behind him. Jacob ducked and Bella knew for sure then that these were Newton’s boys. That Edward and his boys had gone after Mike and his cronies.

For Rose.

A yell to her left, a blur of color, and she barely had time to react.

She swung.

---

Edward

Edward was beating the shit out of some blonde kid with a tiny green alligator patched onto an ugly blue collared shirt when he heard her scream.

His girl.

He sprung to his feet, holding that kid up by the shirt and punching until he went still and limp. He looked around for her, scanned the rough and tumble that was being beaten out all around him. Seth was on some dude’s back, clubbing him in the neck and yelling that old war cry his granddaddy taught him when he was just a kid and still kind of cared about being an Indian. Paul was just along for the ride, the fun, always one for a little exorbitant violence and he was taking on two guys at once, knocking their skulls together hard enough to send them stumbling to the ground. Jacob was near the Bird, beating down some skinny kid with an Ivy League haircut and there she was. Bella. He caught sight of her just in time to watch her swing that little tiny fist of hers and flatten a guy twice her size. He fell limp at her feet and she looked at her balled-up hand, her face full of awe.

Edward gave the kid in his grip one last blow for good measure and let him drop. He sauntered through the brawl, right through the mess like he was Jesus, and these low-lifes were just water. He nudged aside a duo locked in combat, ducked a swinging fist, eyes on her like she could lead him right through hell if he just let her. She looked at her fist again and gave him a wondrous smile and he grabbed her by the collar. Looped his fingers in the neck and tugged her roughly up against him, to scoop her off her feet and kiss her, fuck his swollen nose or his bloody lip or his aching ribs.

He couldn’t breathe, but it wasn’t his busted rib’s fault. It was hers, this girl who got his blood all over her face when he kissed her.

“You are so stupid,” she said.

“Can’t you just get over it and thank me?” he smirked. “We won.”

He was right. Newton’s boys were painting the pavement and Edward’s crew, kids off the Rez with the blood of warriors running through them, were standing around looking bored. Bella pursed her mouth up and shook her head at him.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” he teased.

“For leaving Newton in a pile.” Her eyes darted over his shoulder and he glanced back at the blonde alligator kid, still slumped in a puddle of blood.

“That’s him?”

“That’s him.”

“Get behind the wheel, doll. Let’s run him over.”

“You can’t go to jail.” She shook her head. “I’d miss you too much.”

“You’re the one driving,” he teased. “I’d bail you out.”

“How? You couldn’t afford my bail.” She tugged his hair, blushing.

“I’d sell the Bird.”

“You wouldn’t,” she gasped.

“I would,” he said, honest. “In a second.”

Next

Author's Note: This chapter was inspired by my favorite scene in the entire series of the television show Skins. (The British version, not the MTV crap/abomination.) The doomed relationship of Luke and Franky. 

Click HERE to watch this particular inpiration/scene.

As ever, Hadley Hemingway holds the key to my heart.