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Bella still drives the same clunky truck, even though they don’t live in Forks any more. Sometimes, Angela tries to figure out how she even made the trip to Florida in the first place, with all her bags strapped into the bed of the truck, tied down and covered with a bright blue tarp.
She can hear the truck as it pulls into the parking lot—a benefit of having a dorm on the first floor and a girlfriend with a truck that roars like an angry grizzly—but Bella still texts her.
“I’m outside.”
Like she doesn’t know—it makes her smile. She grabs her wallet, just in case, and hurries outside.
Bella is waiting right outside the door. Her windows are rolled down, and the stereo she’d finally bought was playing some unfamiliar pop.
Angela climbs into the truck, automatically taking Bella’s hand. “Where to tonight?” she asks, smiling.
Bella smiles back at her, soft in the moonlight. The air around the is quiet—well, aside from the sawing of the cicadas, the chirping of grasshoppers, the croaking of the frogs—and even with the windows down (because Bella still doesn’t have working A/C, even after all this time), it feels like they’re in their own private world.
“Any where,” Bella says. She squeezes Angela’s hand. “I just want to spend this night with you.”
She thinks about it and shrugs. “What about just going back to your place?”
The air in Jacksonville is as sticky as ever, even blowing in an out of a car chugging down a highway. It’s August, and their sophomore year of college has just begun, and Angela, far away from her family, finally feels free again.
The song on the stereo switches to one she’s familiar with—at least, she knows the chorus—and she ends up bellowing along, not trying to sound good, how she would have in a church choir. And Bella is laughing at her, but smiling so wide, it looks like it hurts.
When they pull into the driveway, thy don’t get out of the car just yet, just sit staring at each other, holding hands, listening to the summer night symphony.
Angela slides along the seat until she’s pressed thigh to thigh with Bella. It’s hot, literally—but the night air is cooling down, so it’s not unbearable. She touches Bella’s jaw, stroking ever so slightly, before leaning in to kiss her. And she thinks to herself that she never needs anything else, so long as she has Bella there to curl into. She used to wonder if Bella felt the same, but she doesn’t now. After all, she’s here, and Edward is no where to be found. Bella hasn’t even flinch at his name in months, just laughs when she gets another bundle of cash in the mail.
Between deeper and deeper kisses, Bella whispers her name over and over and over, and Angela knows. She knows that everything will be fine.