Southern Comfort: Chapter 7

Southern Comfort

Chapter Seven

A familiar pair of hazel eyes are the first thing I see when I finally manage to open mine. I used to love staring into these eyes, a shade darker than yellow topaz.

I've spent the majority of the last seven years memorizing every aspect of these eyes and of the man that they belong to. I don't have to strain to find the dark brown freckle on the left iris. My vision automatically hones in on it.

These eyes that are usually full of light and laughter are now sad and worried.

I make a move to sit up, but familiar callused hands stop me, pressing me back into the couch.

"Take it easy." His voice is my favorite sound.

I once joked with his sister that I could listen to him read the phone book on repeat for the rest of my life and never grow tired of it. She called me crazy and picked on me for weeks after that because she knew I was serious.

I'm too exhausted to fight, so I lean back into the worn cushion. Edward is quiet and the silence is awkward, but I don't want to be the first to say something. I'm staring at the ceiling, and out of the corner of my eye I can see him watching me intently from his perch on the edge of my coffee table. I don't need to turn my head to see that his pointer finger and thumb are rubbing together, a nervous tick he picked up a few years back when he decided to quit the disgusting habit of chewing tobacco.

I can hear my Felix clock ticking away in the kitchen. A housewarming gift he gave me six years ago when I graduated from college and got my first apartment.

Eventually I sit up and head for the kitchen in search of something to drink. My eyes are surprisingly dry, but my throat is absolutely parched. I start a kettle of water and pull out the fixings for two cups of tea. One cinnamon because I know it's his favorite; it's the only reason I have a box. One peppermint because it calms me. I'm pouring the rock sugar into the cups when I hear him shuffle across the living room.

He must have taken off his boots at some point because he tends to shuffle in socked feet rather than the southern strut he has when he wears shoes. He stops and leans against the wall just inside the kitchen. I don't have to look up to know that his thumbs are hooked in the belt loops of his jeans.

I can feel his eyes on me, but he remains silent.

The kettle squeals in indication that the water is boiling, so I grab a pot holder and pour the water over the tea bags.

"Why?"

I look up and watch his Adams apple bob nervously as he rubs the side of his scruffy cheek.

"I don't understand your question," I state, my shaky hands are wrapped around my warm mug, I look down and watch the tea ripple inside from my anxiety.

"Why didn't you tell me?" His head is cocked to the side, his eyes burning with emotion.

"I don't know," I mumble, setting my cup down before I scold myself with the burning hot liquid.

"You don't know? Dang Bells." His hand is in his hair. He's angry, I can tell by the way he pulls at the ends.

"I don't know, Edward!" I cry. "How am I supposed to broach this subject? Maybe over movie night? 'Hey Edward, I just thought you'd want to know that I've been madly in love with you since the day we met. That you know me better than anyone in my life and that there's not a fraction of a second that you're not on my mind. Can you pass the egg rolls?' Is that how I was supposed to do it?"

The tears come once again. They're calmly falling down my cheeks, but I make no move to clear them away.

He grows quiet. The only sounds are his calm breaths, my somewhat erratic ones and the sound of the damn Felix clock hanging by the back door.

"I wanted to tell you at the carnival," I sniff. "When we were dancing."

His eyes narrow. "That's what you were going to tell me when Jessica interrupted?"

Her name causes my breath to seize. Visions of the two of them pass through my mind, but I push them away. Jessica's not here right now and I have to say my peace.

"Yes." I clear my throat. "I was going to tell you and then your date showed up."

"Bella, you knew I didn't want to go with her," he huffs impatiently.

"But you did! And I get that you were too much of a gentlemen to cancel, but you still kissed her!" My voice becomes barely a whisper. "I've loved you for so long. Last night, the way you looked at me, I thought I might have a chance and then I saw you kiss her."

"Bell-"

"This is why I told Alice I'd keep it a secret." I throw my hands up in the air. "She kept telling me that I needed to come clean, but I didn't because I knew it would end up like this."

Unable to look at him any longer, I grab my cup from the table and throw it into the sink with a little too much force, causing the fragile glass to shatter. The lukewarm tea splashes along the counter and windowsill above the sink. I stare at the murky water as it trails down the window.

"Things are going to get awkward between the two of us now, aren't they?" I ask calmly as I pick pieces of fine china out of my sink and pile them on a napkin.

His silence is the only answer I need.