Up until recently, my school days had been dim, at best, aside from the obvious shining beacons that were biology class, and lunch, the times when I would sit with him.

But, of course, our schedules were changed now, and I had almost every class with Edward.

The bell rang for one of the last times today and I shoved my books back in my bag, clambering up out of my seat, and moving as quickly as I could to the door, without losing the contents of my bag in the process. This had been one of the rare, miserable classes without him, so of course I'd been stuck with my eyes on the clock for the previous forty-five minutes.

Finally, it was time for me to race to art.

It wasn't a class either of us normally had, but I wasn't complaining, the short tutorial was graded easily, but better then that, it was time I could not only sit, but talk with Edward.

I arrived there clutching the strap of my bag, and scanned the room for the familiar, striking face. Of course, I could recognize him instantly, and the empty seat beside him never failed to make my heart skip a beat...

I rushed over, and put my bag under the table, smiling sheepishly. "Hey." I could hear the breathless tone in my voice, and glanced at him, pleased to see his greeting smile reached his eyes.

They were liquid gold today, darker hints of topaz around the middle.

"Bella?" He seemed amused, and I shook my head, looking away from him, and at the table instead, blushing. "Sorry." Surely he was used to my phasing out by now. I would think, that he would have learned not to interrupt me, or ask the dreaded question;

"What are you thinking about?"

I tried my best to send him a warning look, though the blush was still in my cheeks, and I though It might have looked rather flustered, because I could see a smile playing on the edges of his lips.

"Was it me?" He pressed, a triumphant grin spreading across his face, making me roll my eyes. A small shred of dignity screamed at me not to mumble the affirmative, and I blinked at my knees instead. "What are we starting, today?" I chanced a look at him, once I thought my face could be trusted, but still saw a pleased expression arranged on his perfect face. His words; "Paper mashe." made me groan.

Any wet, sticky, fast-hardening mess was not my friend, though it did seem to be Edward's. "Do you influence the projects with the desire to make me suffer?" I asked, without looking at him as the newspaper was spread out on the table, and the teacher began passing out buckets of the flour-water, that made up the glue-like substance we were going to be using.

I wasn't sure if the teacher was expecting actual productivity from a group of teenagers provided with something with such potential for anarchy, but we began work. I was impressed by my class, though a little frustrated that Edward could even mashe better then me.

"How are you doing that?" I managed to swallow my pride and ask him, after five minutes of applying wrinkly sheet after wrinkly sheet, my side of our project now resembling the mountainous surface of the moon, his a perfectly smooth coating.

He smiled his triumphant smile, his good mood baffling me as he moved over to my side, and dipped a strip of newspaper in that substance, smoothing it out over my craters. It didn't fix it as well as he'd obviously been expecting, and I watched his brow crease in annoyance. "It's dead." It no longer resembled a healthy mashe-wall, and I frowned. "I'm sorry." He looked somber, now, and his expression wouldn't be ill-suited for the deathbed of a close friend. I wasn't sure whether or not I should interrupt the mourning of our new project, and looked away, at the other pairs working.

By the time I looked back, his face had changed to one of annoyance, and he was picking roughly at the back of his hand; distracted already.

The mashe-glue mixture had dried on his, as on mine, and I watched as he continued to try and scratch it off. "Come on." I muttered, standing up, tugging at his elbow, him standing up in a almost blindingly fast repeat of my movement. I went to the sink, and wrapped one of my hands around his. He let me tug it over to the tap as I turned on the warm water, and began to rinse the glue off.

I didn't want to look at him, but was concentrated on his perfect, stone cold hand, the temperature or surface not affected at all by the water glistening off it, as I cleaned for him. Once I had finished that, I took much less care with my own, then looked back at him.

He looked pleased, and had a smug smile on his face, which made me roll my eyes as I leaned back against the sink. "I'm sorry, I killed our project." I murmured, putting on a sad face. He surprised me, and I felt a rock-hard arm slip around my shoulders. "It is a tragedy."He muttered in agreement, as I leaned my head against his shoulder, extremely aware we were in a class full of our peers, something he never seemed to notice. "A time of grieving." He added, solemnly bowing his head.

"Does that mean you want consolation?" I Asked, surprised by the playful tone in my own voice as I looked up at him. I could clearly see his lips press together in an effort not to smile, as he kept his gorgeous head bowed.

"It might be necessary." His silky voice was quiet, alluring and I blinked, momentarily dazed as I leaned into him. It was so easy to lose track of your surroundings, with him, and I had to lean back a little, and look up at the ceiling, to avoid following along on my promise. "Would you mind a rain check?" I blinked, looking sideways at him, smiling hopefully.

"I can do that." I was glad he agreed, that wasn't the usual tradition, with him, though the term 'rain check' could be taken quite literally in Forks.

Of course, it wasn't an hour later when the subject was brought back up, as we were standing under the awning, watching the rain come down in sheets, preparing to sprint to his Volvo, he turned to me, stating confidently that he wanted his rain check.

It took me a moment to realize what he was talking about, and I sighed, my breath coming out in a misty huff. "Now, Edward?" I felt his stone arm wrap around me for the second time today, and he pulled me out into the rain to press his lips to mine. Despite the several variations of cold temperatures surrounding me; his freezing granite lips, the rain falling on my shoulders, soaking my hair, and his one, smooth, hard arm around me, he never did fail to make me feel like I was on fire.

Usually, I premeditate things much more then this peice of writing, so I'm not sure what I think of it. I just sat down and instantly started rambling, and so it turned into... This. Though, I suppose some of the credit goes to my friend, who got me thinking about how they never do art projects. Anyways, I'm not gunna critisize myself here, if I can help it, and I just say... PLEASE REVIEW! I dunno if some things don't make sense. xD Like how it's after they have lots of classes together, but things are still a little akward... 333 I'm extremley tired, so I think none of this may be coherant.