Interoperabilidad

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Chapter: 15

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.

STAMPEDE OF A THOUSAND PULSES 15. Fissures

Jasper walks past me. "Pretty boy."

I ignore the jibe and run my fingers through my hair. I press a small amount of cologne onto my neck and cast a quick stare into the mirror.

"You nervous?" Jasper smiles as he leans by the doorway of his bathroom. He doesn't even wait for a reply, instead he walks back into the living area—a high pitched chuckle escapes him. He is obviously finding this amusing. "Oh, Kate is coming over in about 5 minutes, you might wanna tone it down on the cologne… you know, incase she starts drooling."

I give his ghost a dirty stare and wonder whether or not to button all the way up or leave a couple slack. I leave four undone. I look at myself. I do one more up. It makes no difference whatsoever.

"Fuck."

The door bell rings and in the background I can hear Kate whining about the shitty weather. I try to drown out the rise of her rasp with an internal monologue. I am all over the place. I haven't felt as insecure or anxious about anything in a long while.

My phone vibrates. I slip it out of my side pocket, a text alert blinks across the screen.

-Can't wait to see you.

I smile; it stretches from one side of my face to the other, and then in silly manner teeth appear. I realize I am now grinning. I let the happiness slide from my face slowly as I struggle to stop staring at the screen.

"What are you so happy about?" Kate timidly walks towards me, her presence causing a small amount of discomfort.

I offer a small crook of my lips and wave my phone in the air. "Bella," I say.

"Oh." She shifts from foot to foot.

It's been maybe a little while since I realized she has somewhat of a crush on me. I try to accommodate her in the safest way possible—after all she is now an associate, maybe even a friend, one that doesn't deserve to be treated harshly.

"Big date tonight?"

"Um, yea… no…" I laugh at myself. "I don't… know?"

Kate laughs with me. "Still testing the waters?"

I shrug. Although, I 'm pretty sure that 'testing the waters' is too dense of an explanation for what Bella and I now are. "We're friends," I say.

Her eyebrows furrow for a moment and then she speaks, "Just friends?"

"For now," I correct.

"Oh."

"Yea… so, I better… go, because she's waiting."

"Yea, you better go. Don't wanna keep her waiting."

I say a quick see you later to Jasper, and leave.

I don't know what to do with my hands. I put them in my coat pocket; my finger pushes through a loose seam. I fiddle with the stray threads until she speaks. "You smell good." It's an innocent enough remark but her voice triggers the worst in me—so unintentionally breathy and sweet. I feel bad for wanting to touch her. I keep my hands stuffed in my pockets, and make a note to stock up on this cologne.

We walk along the pavement; her shoes make small clicks, something continuous to listen to until I decide to say,

"I'm nervous." Almost instantly, I regret opening my mouth.

Her eyes are cast to her feet. "Why?"

"I don't know." I somehow feel small staring down at her. Her presence overawes me; I want to say something else, something to cover up my fumbling.

"I'm nervous too," she says… so soft, no roughness in her tone. She smiles sadly.

I don't want her to be sad. But I am too scared to reach out, too self aware to brush her cheek the way I want to. I don't want to make any sudden moves, and so I just smile back… it's sadder than hers, much more so.

We reach the restaurant; the hostess takes our coats and gives us a number. We wait and as we do I look Bella over.

I notice her dress. This isn't her normal attire. I swallow a little, not sure if I should comment. Her lip is sucked in, I can tell she is uncomfortable but instead of reassuring her I remain quiet until we are told our table is ready.

As I pull out her chair I clear my throat nosily. Bella looks up, her brown eyes large and concerned. I smile, genuinely, and then before I even realize I blurt out, "You look beautiful in that." I feel my face heat up.

I notice her blush as she sits, and all of a sudden things are calm with us again. We talk easily about college and course work. I manage not to stare at her obsessively. Instead I take small glimpses. Her neck and exposed shoulders leave my face berried. Her chest although covered, is not helping my resolve. And with distant memories I conjure up pictures of her topless, hovering above me, breasts soft and jutted out as I grip her smooth hips.

I stop myself before I go too far. I bring up Jasper, tell her that I am staying at his place on and off—she seems pleased that I've met someone I can call a friend. For some stupid reason I bring up Kate. I notice the rapid bout of attention her eyes give mine as I make up a lie concerning why she is around so often. I cast Kate's presence down to an imaginary infatuation with Jasper. Something tells me that Bella doesn't fall for it, but her demure nature doesn't test me—instead she plays with her food and nods as she mouths a healthy bite of rice. I feel stupid for lying.

Her mouth is as beautiful as ever. My eyes drift to her nose, to space between her brows, to the ample length of her lashes, and I stare into the darkness that favors a black over brown. Open, honest eyes… sweet and imploring…

How I ever managed to filch such a doe gaze… no girl has eyes like hers.

Our time together ends too soon, in one way I am relieved, in another disappointed. I walk with her to her old, decrypted truck. It holds so many memories for me. All aren't too kind on my conscience—but still they alight parts my anatomy that are too weak to fight off recollections.

I clear my throat. "Thank you for this evening."

She climbs into the driver seat. "You sure you're okay to walk to the station?"

"Yea," I reply. My eyes are stuck to the smooth curve of her calve muscle. Those shoes she wears are a little too complimentary to her legs. I hope she doesn't wear them around anyone else.

I am still looking at legs as her voice snaps me out of it.

"Edward?"

I see a slight smile on her face. It drops suddenly as I furrow my brows in pure frustration.

"Good night?"

I nod, once, slow. "Good night."

She leans forward, her soft smell accosting my needy passages. I inhale, and I think she notices—but for the

moment I dare not to care. I reach behind her head with an errant hand and gently grasp the back of her waved hair. I try my best to keep my touch gentle. Whilst this seems border line animal to me, Bella hardly flinches. For her this is easy, for her it means nothing. She hugs me awkwardly from her seat in the truck and whispers, "Call me."

"You know I will," I throatily reply.

Don't go.

"Have a safe trip," she murmurs sweetly.

Don't go.

"You too."

I close her door shut. She drives off. I stand there until her truck turns a corner. I am left feeling more confused and foiled than I should be.

"You dog!" Kate yelps.

Jasper has a half guilty half satisfied smile on his face. His last visit to Alice ended up in a tangle of naked limbs.

"Has she left him?"

His face sobers.

He should know better. Sleeping with his ex whilst she is still with her current is an incredibly dumb move on his part—on both parts—but strangely enough I can still sympathize. It's a wonder I haven't tried my luck with Bella…

but I want to be smart, I'm trying to be. For now jerking off will have to do, because the thought of putting my cock into any other girl is foul.

I change the subject in his favor.

"I'm taking my finals soon. I hope you're preparing yourself for my arrival."

Kate sniggers.

I throw an empty wrapper at her. "Your just jealous seeing you still live your mother."

She rolls her eyes and snorts, flinging her feet casually into my lap. "Shut up Edward." It's as if she is still getting used to saying my name—she says unnecessarily at times.

In the corner of my eye I see Jasper hiding that smile he always has when things are awkwardly amusing. He says so much without even trying. At this instant I can hear a screaming whisper, I told you so, rings tritely in my imaginary ear. Kate wriggles her toes, they are small and furry encased in her cotton socks. It feels weird to have her feet where they are. I struggle to remain nonchalant.

"Oh I'm prepared," Jasper says. "Are you?" His innuendo is in bad taste. I am just about ready to knock that arched brow off his face.

Kate chews her bottom lip. I think she gets it. She isn't dumb. She lifts her feet from my lap and groans. "I am so bored, we should go out somewhere."

Jasper snorts. "You're not even legal. Where do you figure? Mc Donald's?"

Her eyes brighten up and then suddenly darken. "Like you are so super smart!" she retorts. "Douche."

I chuckle and get up with a stretch. "I'm gonna hit the sack for a bit."

"You might as well just move in now," Jasper tells me. "You're always here."

"Is that an immediate offer?"

He shrugs. "Whatever. You know I'm not fussed."

My heart is hammering out of my chest. Another restless sleep. Another dream ending in a painful erection. We didn't even touch, yet here I am left with nothing but a tent in my boxers. I'm not in the mood to jerk off. I am relatively pissed and tired due to my lack of sleep.

I roll onto my stomach, face placed sideways as I tuck my cock beneath me carefully. It hurts like fuck, but after a few minutes of blank stares cast onto the adjacent wall it slowly becomes bearable. I eventually feel myself soften.

My thoughts are centered on her. Always. Sometimes thoughts are tiring. It's a never ending merry-go-round of different scenarios. Days can go by and the same scene will play over and over in my mind. It gives me time to realize how unimaginative I am. I conjure up the same images, same words, same places and same backdrops.

It all ends with one person.

It starts with her too.

My hands shake as I pick up my phone. It's like this sometimes, I shake uncontrollably. It worries me for a few seconds, because I have no real idea why this happens. I cast out the thought that drugs have damaged my nervous system. More than likely it is down to the fact that I am about to call her.

"Hi," she answers.

Her voice is so small. There are moments when I feel dirty and old, like this girl is way too chaste for me to speak to much less touch. My inner man hollers at me, bringing back memories of all our intimate periods. It feels so far away, so distant that it is almost not us—not me—and most definitely not her.

We are awkwardly quiet until she tells me something that causes my heart to stammer. I feel almost as wholesome as I hold her to be, because these feelings are a little new, a little unfamiliar. Some part of me has been reworked.

This version of myself is a messy jumble of words and apprehensions. I can't understand it. I wonder if this is the real me.

I pull myself together momentarily. I speak with little trepidation, forcing a small amount of assertion from my gut.

"I want… you." Was I meant to say that? Is this too aggressive? A tiny part of me rejoices nonetheless. But I quickly become somber, because saying this is almost painful. "I think about… you… all the time."

I want to touch her. Sexual or not. I just wanted to touch her. The ache in my chest is more than figurative. It was as if dry rot was masticating me whole. I swallow thickly, her small reply is so Bella like and quiet. Her sexuality is a pirouette of shy and sweet, losing itself when on the brink. There was nothing more satisfying than witnessing the blotchy heat that adorned her skin. Every time I pleasured her I felt more and more of a man, more adept, more skillful, more content at the honeyed way she would whimper helplessly at my touch. Being inside her was

something I wasn't willing to give up… it wasn't hard to remember my dependency on all of those feelings she gave me.

"I miss making love, to you."

Warm honey. That is the only way I can describe those words as they ring in my ear. My chest puffs up. Nothing could be as sweet—only a confession of love—but we have both silently agreed to keep those words at bay. I can't help but think of the difference—old Edward, new Edward… what if I am now unsatisfying as a lover? I can't emote vocally how I feel, instead I offer a dead and empty explanation of, "It will be different… when we do."

Will we?

Will we ever get to that point?

Is it up to me to initiate that moment?

I am not too sure if I know when that moment will be. I am counting my blessings. I am trying to enforce restraint on my own climbing libido. I thank God internally once the subject is changed.

Alice is here. She is small. Smaller than Bella. She favors a character from a Tolkien novel, this tiny girl that has locked up Jasper's heart. His whole demeanor changes when she is around. He is careful and tense.

I introduce myself as she shakes my hand. "Edward."

"Alice." She withdraws and shyly sits.

The television blares, an obnoxious music video is accosting our eyes, a throttle of gyrating 20 something's in a club setting as one deftly moving chanteuse sings seductively into the camera.

I switch channels.

Alice is so quiet. Her head is bowed and she is forever fiddling with the strings of her tapestry purse. Jasper isn't saying anything. I get up and make my way into the kitchen, soon after he is in there with me.

"Should I leave?"

He shrugs. "She's always like this," he murmurs.

I nod once. I understand.

"It's my fault," he mutters. "Before me she was… different."

I nod again. I more than understand.

"I can leave if you want me to."

He huffs. "No. I'll take her somewhere."

"This is your place," I insist.

"It's your place too."

This side of Jasper is real. It's open, and closed. It's confused and recovering. He is thoughtful when he wants to be.

A complete ass when it suits him.

He runs his hands down his face and inhales. I feel bad for him. They are both in a limbo over how to continue, and how to end. In a way I am glad I haven't touched Bella. I am glad the complication of sex has evaded me for over six months. My fantasies are serving me well.

I decided to leave them to it. No doubt they would be discussing something a little more than serious once I leave.

Walking in the dark, I felt invisible. College was coming to a close, I would be faced with the prospect of a masters or a year spent somewhere, doing something. I couldn't remember what it felt like to just be the careless adolescent that got high and did as he pleased.

Now, as a 22 year old, I felt haggard. The few times I had seen Bella I had pulled back to notice how young she was in the face. This girl was just that… a girl, and whilst I towered over her 5 foot something frame, there was more than just a distinct physical difference.

I had been there and done it—knowing what I was doing and not caring whilst I pulled her deeper into whatever it was I had created for us both. Although I had taken her many a time, it was always me in lead position. Not once can I remember her being aggressive—only attentive—only giving. Bella had a tendency to shy away at the last hurdle, a small part of her would always hanker for me to take control and so I did.

I wouldn't be too sure what to call it. Maybe it was manipulation on both parts. Maybe she was in fact in control of every move I made, because each was an easy assumption. Either way, it wouldn't have mattered. Somewhere down the line I would have taken what wasn't owed anyway. I was a selfish fuck. This if not anything else was clear.

Nonetheless, I missed her through all my junked up thoughts. I missed her when I was in the company of others. I missed her when I was alone. The strangest form of loneliness came as a shock—when she was right by my side.

When I visited and walked and talked and sat by her. Loneliness took me whole, because now, although together we were the furthest apart.

I fished out my cell phone.

Bella's number was the last on my call list; I pressed the green button, swallowing as I awaited her answer.

"Edward?"

"Bella."

"How are you?"

"The same as always, you?"

"Okay."

I hate the way our calls begin. Small talk is something reserved for the unfamiliar. I want us to be familiar again. I want her to tell me how she's really feeling; I want to tell her how badly I am missing her, without the need for the fucking small talk. The roughest part of me grates to the surface. I feel him fighting to come out, to grab this girl by the hips and slam her to my chest, to claim her again, to love her again.

I growl involuntarily, "Fuck."

Silence and then a scared and quiet, "Edward?"

I want to apologize, but I am fed up of wanting. I am beyond being careful. At this point all my eggshell steps are strained and tainted. It's a matter of the heart wanting what it wants, no matter how much logic rears its fucking head…

"Fuck."

"Are you… Edward?"

She seems confused now. I wonder if she's as confused as me. I know she's been waiting. I wonder if all the waiting is just pointless. If I could just run back to Jasper's and pack an overnight bag…

"Edward?"

"I'm here."

"Are you okay?"

I think before answering, "The truth?"

"Always…"

"No."

"Do you need to talk?"

"No talking."

I hear an intake of breath. "Then why… why did you call?"

"I don't know."

We do this a lot. We keep a lengthy silence. Better that than inane small talk. I fucking hate small talk.

We do this a lot. We keep a lengthy silence. Better that than inane small talk. I fucking hate small talk.

In document Interoperabilidad Semantica para un Sistema de Informacion para el Control Interno (página 34-44)