As Isabella Swan unpacked her few belongings on her own, the owner of the apartment directly opposite hers was directing people to unpack his belongings for him.
"Yes, John, I would like the television installed for me. Thank you very much."
"No, George, I don't want the telephone installed in the kitchen. Do I look like I will be cooking in there much of the time? Install the telephone in the living room, please, if you will."
"Yes, John, the television looks good at that height, thank you."
"Yes, George, the telephone will be fine there. Thanks."
"Thank you, Lucille, for the dry cleaning. I knew your company is the most reliable around town, you certainly don't disappoint."
"Hey John, don't you think my sofa should be facing the television, instead of away from it?"
Isabella shook her head humorlessly at the directions and orders her neighbor was barking out. What an obnoxious prick, she thought. Couldn't he unpack his stuff himself? Barking out orders at 7am was hardly neighborly behavior, even if the man had a pretty nice voice. But of course, everyone here would be ordering people around. This apartment block was one of the most posh and upper class condominiums around New York, after all. What was she thinking – would these uppity uppities of New York's elite society really unpack their belongings themselves? Good heavens, god forbid them to lift a finger, Isabella thought.
How Isabella Swan, an 18 year old fresh out of high school, landed up in this top class condominium was in fact, as much of a tragedy as it was a good thing. The only daughter (albeit unwanted) of housing tycoon Renee Dwyer and Winery Billionaire Charles Swan, Isabella Swan was more than set for life. At the young age of 18, her parents had given her outright nothing short of a couple of million dollars in hard cash (not to mention the various stocks, shares, and properties), and told her in no less terms 'not to bother us anymore, since you're old enough to take care of yourself.' Of course she could take care of herself – since Isabella Swan had been doing just that since she was old enough to walk and understand. Her mother was always working, and never had time for her. Her father was well, estranged. Living in the large mansion alone, with only the occasional cleaner for company on alternate days, Isabella Swan soon learned how to look after herself.
Once, when Isabella was 4, Renee was home late, and the helper had not prepared lunch, or dinner. Having nothing to eat the entire day, Isabella clamored after her mother when she finally arrived home at 11pm.
"Mom, I'm hungry." Isabella had quietly informed her mother.
Renee had stared at Isabella as if she had grown two heads. "What? Hungry? Get some food yourself, girl. Don't be such an idiot; do you expect me to cook for you?" Renee had exclaimed loudly, hitting Isabella on the shoulder with such force it sent the poor girl reeling backwards. "Don't bother me with such useless information, girl. Stop being such a trouble, as if you're not enough of a burden already. Good god, I knew it was a mistake when I slept with Charles without protection that night…"
The young Isabella had cowered away in fright back to her room, tears dripping down her cheeks, still hungry. But Isabella was a well behaved and very intelligent girl, and did not want to trouble Renee more than necessary. The idea of "making oneself scarce" was instilled in her since her toddler years. Isabella was determined to make her mother happy.
The next day, Isabella had requested for the cook to teach her how to cook. The cook had regarded her with wariness, but taught her to cook a few simple dishes nonetheless, out of pity for this girl without parental love. With the cook's teachings, a few ingenious manipulations of stools and chairs to help her reach the stove, and after perusing the cooking section of the daily papers, Isabella could soon prepare her own meals, never to bother Renee about being hungry again.
The same situation followed with most life skills that normally, and ideally, parents imparted to their children bit by bit, when they were of a more suitable age. Things that parents normally helped their kids with, Isabella had to learn to do by her own, for her parents simply could not be bothered with the poor child.
To make up for their lack of parental guidance, Renee and Charles loaded their only child, Isabella, with cash and property once she reached 18. Amongst the property given to her were this condominium in question in New York, another condominium in Los Angeles, and various others in Chicago and other states which were currently tenanted out. Since Isabella was enrolled to study at Columbia College (Her parents response after telling them the news: an impassioned "Oh, I see."), she chose to move into this apartment.
Isabella Swan looked around her, satisfied with her apartment. It was still fairly empty, but it would do. She wasn't one for clustered spaces, and interestingly enough, despite having so much money, Isabella had surprisingly few belongings. She squashed all the cartons and boxes into one large one, and made to move it downstairs to the communal bin for larger rubbish. As she hoisted the large box in front of her, it eclipsed everything else in her view. Walking blindly, Isabella stumbled across the hallway in search of the elevator.
Edward Cullen, CEO of Cullen Architecture Enterprises was just walking out of the elevator, his eyes glued to his Blackberry for all intents and purposes and he planned his schedule for the day, when he walked straight into the boxes Isabella was carrying.
"Oofff!" He exclaimed, loudly, wondering who this person was carrying the boxes in such a haphazard manner, as he was thrown slightly backwards.
Isabella, however, was much smaller than him, and the impact of the collision sent her flying backwards into the railings. She crashed into them with a resounding bang as her hip hit the metal banister and she loss her grip over the pile of boxes, which came tumbling down.
Edward rushed forward to help her. "Excuse me; Miss, are you quite alright?" He said, holding her up by her arms lightly.
Isabella glanced up at him, and for a moment, all coherent thoughts left Edward's normally quite astute mind.
Good god, he thought, as he drank in Isabella's porcelain features. Large soulful brown eyes that you could drown in willingly and happily for days, months, or even years, framed by dark and long eyelashes that would make a particular appendage of any man twitch. Finely manicured eyebrows, and high cheekbones accentuated by a pair of perfectly kissable lips. Edward stared, and stared, unable to tear his eyes from the sight before him.
"I'm fine, thank you, sir. Are you alright yourself? I'm so sorry for crashing into you." Isabella started, growing uncomfortable with his staring, after a while.
Edward jerked himself out of his daze, and replied, "Oh, yes, I'm fine, Miss. You, however, might not be so fine. You just crashed into the railing, are you sure you're alright? I would hate for a beauty like you to get injured." Edward frowned at the thought of the fine specimen before him getting injured. A bruise on her translucent skin would surely show. He could not bear that, even though he had just met this girl, and did not know her name.
"I'm really alright, sir. I'm always quite a klutz, anyway." Isabella informed him.
Edward gazed over the girl once again. He felt the intense need to know her name, at the very least, and wanted to get to know her better at the same time. Something inexplicable drew him to her. Whether it was the fact that she looked so young, so fresh, and so innocent and out of place in this condominium, or whether it was the fact that she was currently pulling her bottom lips between her teeth in a most tempting manner, he did not know. What he knew though, was that he wanted to get to know her better.
"Well, it is really my fault, though. I should have been looking at where I was going. Forgive me, for causing you to crash into the banister so unceremoniously. Here, let me help you with those boxes, miss -?" Edward inquired softly. At least I'll know her name this way, he thought.
"Swan, Ms. Swan. But I go by Bella, though. Swan sounds too much like my father. It's alright, sir, I can carry the boxes myself." Isabella laughed lightly.
Bella. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl, Edward thought. And Swan. Such a familiar ring to it, though it certain is an unusual last name. Outwardly, though, Edward grabbed the boxes, telling Bella, "Nonsense, Bella. How can a small girl like you even try to carry these stuff down? It's no matter, I'll help you."
BPOV
Help me? Why, how helpful of this man. He can't be the doorman, though, can he? He looks too well groomed for that. Such features, and god, such hair. He must be a male model working in New York City, I'm sure.
I reluctantly let him help me carry the boxes down, if only because my hips were still ringing from the impact against the railing. I rubbed it and winced. This was certain to form a bruise.
The helpful man carried the boxes with ease, talking all the time.
"So, Bella, are you staying with your parents here?"
I stared at him. Why would I stay with my parents? Hell, they just kicked me out of the house, and I'm 18! Does he stay with his parents anyway?
"No, I'm staying here alone. My parents stay at a different location." I informed him, politely.
The helpful guy looked at me, surprised. "But you don't look older than 18. Surely your parents will be worried, leaving you here all by yourself? Or perhaps you're staying with some friends?"
Friends? Hah, friends. What a foreign concept to me. Renee made sure I never had friends, ever.
"No, I'm staying here alone." I repeated, again.
The helpful man's handsome brows knitted together, which surprisingly, made him look kind of like a brooding professor. Hot. "That can't be very safe, though, it's New York after all! Your parents are in the same state, at least?"
Same State? Why would they follow me here, when their lifetime goal seemed to be to get rid of me?
"No, they're in Washington, on the west coast."
The helpful man gasped, this time. I looked at him in amusement. His emotions and expressions were certainly very entertaining.
"So you're all alone, in New York? What are you doing here, anyway?"
Didn't I just say I was staying here alone? Is this guy daft, or what?
"I'm waiting to start school, at Columbia." I offered, trying not to roll my eyes. He's helping me carry the boxes, after all. The least I could do is to be polite.
"Columbia? Oh, I studied at Columbia too!"
Um, great?
Thankfully, I was saved by the elevator door opening. The helpful and apparently really talkative handsome guy walked in front of me, and deposited the boxes at the pick up trash area.
"There, that's done. So tell me, what are you studying at Columbia?"
Wow, he really likes to talk, doesn't he. I'm feeling quite out of my league here, talking used to be minimal back home. Maybe Newyorkers are different, I guess. The weather here certainly is different. I thought of an answer as we walked back to the elevator.
"I'm doing their general degree, hopefully majoring in languages, though."
"Ah, I see. I studied architecture, then. Boy, it seems such a long way back."
But this guy looks… young. How long back could it be? Perhaps he was a thwarted sense of time.
I made a noncommittal sound, as I stepped into the elevator. The helpful guy stepped into it too.
"Which floor, Bella?"
"8th floor, thank you."
He looked at me, and smirked, a lopsided smirk. How interesting that such an asymmetrical feature could look so good on this man.
"So you're my new neighbor, Bella Swan? I stay on the 8th floor too, coincidentally. The apartment directly opposite yours."
No, shit, Sherlock. This was the guy ordering people around at 7am in the morning? I looked at him, and for lack of anything better to say, I smiled.
Helpful guy who is apparently my neighbor extended his hand to me, unfazed by my quietness.
"I'm Cullen, but please call me Edward. Nice to meet you, Bella Swan."
I shook his hands gingerly, and upon contact, a warm electrical feeling shot up my arm, spreading all over me. I pulled back my hand at the same time as he did, shocked.
Wow. Even the static in New York is different.
The elevator door opened at this point, and we stepped out. We walked in silence to our doors, and cue the awkwardness.
"Well, then, Bella, I'll see you around, I guess? Don't hesitate to find me if you need any help, alright? It can't be easy living in New York alone, at that age. Hell, I remember how hard it is, still." Edward smiled and waved, stepping into his house.
"Bye, Edward." I managed, before shutting the door.
What is it with him and being worried about me living on my own? New Yorkers were really hard to understand. My university dean had the same response when he enquired into my living conditions. "What? Alone, in up-state New York? Where's your parents, child?" was his exact response.
I collapsed into the dining room chair, and poured myself a cup of water. I was pleased, actually, to be in New York, alone. It signified a new life away from people who didn't want me around. Being alone did not faze me, I was always alone, even when I was young. I managed things on my own just fine, managing myself in Forks would be no different from being in New York. With that thought, I nodded resolutely to myself. I, Isabella Swan, will be just fine, in New York, at Columbia. I'll enjoy school, and hopefully make a few acquaintances. Hopefully I'll graduate with enough honours to make a name for myself in the foreign languages department, and land myself with a job I enjoy.
With that, I started to catalogue whatever I needed to live in New York, and made a mental note to head down to the shops later today to get a car too.
EPOV
I couldn't help but worry. How is it that a young girl like Bella could survive in New York on her own? Why did her parents not want to ensure that she was safe? Bella Swan. Why did Swan sound so familiar to me?
It befuddled me, and unfortunately struck a chord deep in my heart. Granted, the circumstances were different, but it was also not too long ago that I found myself alone in New York City, studying at Columbia, with not a recognizable soul in the entire place.
I sighed, and made a mental note to get to know my pretty neighbor better – if anything, to ensure that she got on just fine. Neighborliness, I told myself. Somewhere in me, a voice told me that it was more than that though. I thought back to the way she pulled her bottom lips between her teeth, her long lashes, her large eyes. Bella Swan. The name struck a familiar bell, but unfortunately I couldn't quite place it. I shrugged that thought out of my head as I got ready for work, once again. Cullen Enterprises, my blood and sweat, heart and soul, here comes your CEO, again.