Blockbuster

Chapter Eleven

I adopted this plot bunny a year or so ago. It really intrigued me. I posted a poll in my group asking which story I should work on next, and this was the winner. It's definitely a WIP. I've only got a rough outline figured out and I'm going back to my roots with this ... writing with a vague plan. I hope that I can do this justice.

None of this is mine ... I wish it was. Sigh ...

Talk about a cliffie from the last chapter ... That question, among others, will be explained very, very soon.

Chapter Eleven

Bella

"Would it be too much to ask to see where you work?" Edward asked as he signed the credit slip, stuffing some cash in as a tip.

"We'll be working there for the screenplay. My apartment is small and ... I figured you'd want to work somewhere that has more space," I trailed off, my cheeks flaming. My second-hand, dumpster-diving furniture was shabby. I didn't want Edward to see how I lived. I hid my face behind my hands. I needed to block the redness of my cheeks.

"Bella, why are you hiding from me?" he asked, pulling my hands away from my face.

"I don't know," I sighed. I looked around the restaurant and was grateful that we were in a secluded corner. "I live in a tiny apartment and ... I don't ... Damn it. I'm a mess."

"You're not a mess, gorgeous," Edward said soothingly.

"You probably live in this ginormous mansion, with all the amenities. When I moved into my apartment, I was grateful to have a bathroom inside the apartment and not having to use a communal shower," I grumbled.

"I don't live in a ginormous mansion. My home comfortable and yes, I'm a snob. I have my amenities ... like living directly on the beach ... but I live pretty simply for someone who has my bank account," he said. "I would like to see where you work. I would love to see where you live."

"Even if it's a shoebox?" I whispered. He just grinned crookedly, leaning forward, and placing a soft kiss to my mouth. I melted into him. With his tenderness and patience, I'd forgotten about my past, about the long-ass journey that brought me to this moment.

"Have I convinced you, yet?" Edward asked as his lips slid to my neck.

"Today, we'll go to the office and tomorrow, we'll do some work on the script at my apartment," I whispered.

"Tonight, we'll enjoy some more making out," he laughed, standing up and taking my hand. Our fingers twined together, walking to the parking garage.

Edward Cullen was a force of nature. That was for sure.

He pushed me beyond my comfort level. He made me feel like I was worthy of his affection and worthy of happiness. With him, I felt beautiful.

I also wanted him to know the truth ...

Unfortunately, when was it a good time to share my sordid, awful past?

To share that I was a murderer?

Much to my surprise, Edward did not judge me or my tiny shoebox apartment. His large presence filled the space. I was afraid that he'd turn up his nose at my furnishings, but he got comfortable and commented about how he loved the comfort of my home. It was me.

We also managed to get a good chunk of the screenplay written, between heated make out sessions and conversations while we got to know each other more. He even spent the night. We didn't do anything. We just fell asleep watching a movie on my television. He held me to his body like I was the most cherished thing in his world. I reveled in being cradled so gently, but I knew that this bubble would eventually burst.