The Twilight Twenty-Five

thetwilight25 dot com

Prompt: #12

Pen Name: thimbles

Pairing/Character(s): Bella/Edward

Rating: M

Word Count: 413

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My heart is beating so hard I can hear my pulse thundering in my temples over the clatter of my shoes on the tiled stairs.

Platform 1. Of course I came in on the wrong side of the freaking station.

Platform 4.

Platform 6.

"Shit, shit, shit … Sorry!"

The red-lipsticked, middle-aged woman I nearly took out with my bag snaps something back at me. Her tone is curt, but I don't pay attention to the words. It's not like I was aiming for her.

I'm not sure why I'm still running, I already know I'm not going to make my train. But I keep moving, my bag thumping against my hip, my side burning with a stitch.

The number seven is blurry, even as I make a right underneath it. My glasses are in my bag—I hope. Class today is going to be painful if I forgot them. Though I have to actually get to class for that to be an issue.

My lecturer, Professor Something-I-can-never-remember is one of those sticklers for the rules. He's the only guy in the department who actually does what the Course Handbook threatens, and locks the doors to the lecture theatre at 9:05. (I'm sure there's a WHS issue there. What if there was a fire?)

So, if I miss this train, which I probably will, I might as well just head into Newtown and spend a few hours browsing the quirky stores lining King St. I could use a latté, too.

I sprint up the ramp leading to Platform 7 as I hear that weirdly intonated announcement, each syllable dropping in pitch: "Stand Clear, Doors Closing."

I slow to a walk as my train starts pulling out.

"Fuck."

I snicker, and the boy puffing and wheezing beside me says, "Jinx."

"What?"

He shakes his head, green eyes sparking with mischief. "Don't make me punch you."

I blink at him, and he chuckles. He's cute in that hipster-who-claims-not-to-be-a-hipster way. Skinny jeans, scruffy jaw, thick black frames. "I jinxed you. You're not allowed to talk."

"Until when?"

"You kinda suck at this," he tells me.

"Sorry." It comes out more like a question.

"It's cool." He shrugs. "Probably a good thing. If you played by the rules, you wouldn't answer me when I asked your name."

I hesitate, but his cheeky smile makes me want to tell him. I want to hear him say it. "Bella."

He winks. "Well, Bella. I do believe you owe me a coffee."

A/N: The Twilight Twenty-Five involves 25 prompts over three months. 300-500 word flashes, and probably a whole lot of silly experiments on my part.

Thanks for reading ;)

Shell x