The pretty girl with eyes like dark amber comes into the library every Tuesday.
That's about all Edward Cullen has been able to find out about her. This Tuesday, however, he's determined to change that. So when he spots the door open through the corner of his eye and hears the now-familiar squeak of her sneakers on tile, he straightens up and runs a hand through his hair. "Hey," he calls.
The girl stops and frowns. Edward knows what she's thinking—why is he here? Sure enough, after a moment of hesitation, she asks, "Where's Angela?", referring to the girl usually at the desk.
"Sick. I can help you," Edward replies with what he hopes is a flirtatious smile.
The girl walks towards the desk, oblivious to Edward's flirtations, and sets her books down on the counter. Curious, Edward picks them up and reads the titles before he checks them back in. One he's never heard of, but the other sparks familiar interest. "This is one of my favorites," he comments nonchalantly as he scans the copy of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest back into the system.
To his surprise, the girl bites her lip and shrugs. "Not sad enough," she comments, brushing strands of mahogany from her face.
Edward blinks in astonishment. Not sad enough? His face warms ever-so-slightly as he recalls the hours he spent lying on his bed, watching bars of light dance across the ceiling, fighting the urge to blink and simply pondering the utter effect the story had on him.
The girl's eyes suddenly light up as a smile plays across her lips. "Hang on. You can help me," she gasps in excitement.
Edward stares at her, baffled. "W-what?" he stutters.
She rolls her eyes, glancing at the nametag pinned to Edward's shirt. "Look, Edward," she says.
"Yes?" he replies, slightly distracted by the way her lips shape when she says his name.
She leans against the counter, a suddenly mischievous look on her face. "I'm on a… personal mission, I guess you could say. And I need your help."
Edward raises an eyebrow, curiously wary as he silently urges her to continue.
"I've been a reader most of my life, but I've never found a book that has made me cry. And I want to change that."
He pushes away from the counter with a scoff. "That's ridiculous. Why would you want to find something that will make you cry?"
She sighs. "Why? Because there's a sort of beauty in melancholy, don't you think? A beauty I want to experience."
Edward stays silent, unable to retort. "Okay," he says slowly. "And what would you like me to do?"
She smiles. "You, my friend, are going to help me find that book."
"Hang on. Why should I help you?"
"Because, firstly, it's your job," she bites back. "And second, I know the idea intrigues you, even if just a little."
Edward stares at her for a moment. "Alright," he replies with only a moment of hesitation. "I need time."
She smiles. "No problem," she says, grabbing a stack of post-its and a pencil off his desk. She scribbles down a series of numbers and slides it back to him. "Text me when you have a suggestion." She turns to leave.
"Wait!" Edward cries. "I didn't get your name."
She smiles. "Bella," she replies softly before exiting.
Edward leans back in his chair, considering the oddness of the whole situation. But as he fingers the post-it, he can't help but smile.