Rain.
Incessant rain.
The once peaceful and tranquil sound of the drops hitting the ground has now become the monotonous soundtrack of my life. I'll admit that I was warned about the precipitation before moving to Seattle, Washington. However, it is impossible to imagine such dismal weather while living in the sweltering heat of Arizona. I never realized how much I appreciated the sunlight until it was obscured by the continuous Nimbostratus clouds.
I sit in my car and watch as rain drops roll down my windshield. I've been sitting in the parking lot by the library for nearly twenty minutes trying to decide whether I really need to attend this tutoring session. Finals are in two weeks and I am currently failing my calculus course. My only hope of passing this semester is to do well on this final. I'm an only child, and neither of my parents went to college. Needless to say, I'm under a lot of pressure to succeed.
My first semester as a college student has gone fairly well. I've made some great friends and my classes have been interesting. I've been working at a nearby bookstore for a few weeks now. I've been very careful to avoid distractions this semester. I can't afford to fail. Once I get my degree I'm getting out of here. As a child I'd listened to my parents make plans to go back to school and travel the world. The years passed and these plans fell through. Although they won't admit it, I know that's part of the reason their marriage broke apart. Life just got in the way. That's why I'm sitting outside the library on a Friday afternoon as the rain continues to fall outside. I'm trying so hard to avoid becoming my parents.
I glance at my cell phone, it's almost one o'clock. I consider driving back to the dorm and starting one of the many new books I've recently purchased at work. I'm sure if I tried hard enough I could figure out my homework without a tutors assistance. I've never been the kind of person to ask for help. I've always been mature for my age. Growing up, I was more of a parent than a child; I didn't have the luxury of being ignorant to the challenges of life. My mother is much too childish to take on the adult responsibilities that are demanded of her, and my dad never really recovered from the divorce. At home, when the food ran out, I was the one who went grocery shopping. When the electric company threatened to shut off our power due to late payments I wrote out the checks to keep us going for another month. I've never had a problem with this arrangement. There was never a problem that I couldn't solve. Until I took calculus, apparently. So here I am, mentally preparing myself to step outside my comfort zone and ask for some much needed help.
I fidget in my seat and decide I can't wait any longer. I reach over to the passenger seat where I placed my backpack and situate it over my right shoulder. With one last longing look in the direction of my dorm, I sigh and get out of the car. The rain falls gently around me as I awkwardly sprint to the library doors attempting to avoid stepping in the puddles of water surrounding the main entrance.
When I enter the warm atmosphere of the library, I find myself relaxing. Why should I be embarrassed about getting help? This is a school. As students we are encouraged to seek assistance when needed and to ask questions when we don't understand the lessons. There is absolutely no reason why I should feel ashamed.
With this mantra on repeat, I walk with my head held high to the back room where tutors are helping those with struggles similar to my own. On my way I notice several exhausted looking students hunched over tables with books and papers scattered everywhere. Finals are taking their tolls on everyone. I walk the remaining distance feeling significantly less intimidated. I spot the room where my session will be held and push the door open. Inside I immediately notice a front desk and several small secluded rooms in the back. An older woman with short blond hair and glasses is struggling with the large printer behind the counter. I watch as she randomly presses buttons, probably hoping that one of them will make the machine work.
"Excuse me, I'm here for my tutoring session" I say to the woman, who looks up at me quickly.
"Yes, of course! Sorry, this printer simply hates me. This is the third time this week it's jammed. What's your name, dear?" she asks kindly, walking back to the front desk.
I smile and answer, "Bella Swan."
She turns to her desk where she looks through a small stack of papers, pushing up her falling glasses as she does so. She flips through the stack until her eyes light up with recognition and she turns back to me.
"Yes, Isabella Swan, here you are. You will be in room number twelve with Mr. Cullen" she replies.
I frown at the woman. Cullen. That name sounds familiar, but I'm pretty sure I've never had a class with a Cullen. The woman looks at my face and quickly remarks, "Oh, don't worry, dear. He s absolutely brilliant. Trust me, you are in very capable hands". She gives me one last smile before she writes a small note on my request form and heads back over to the printer. With a deep inhale I walk down the back hall and locate room number twelve. I readjust the strap on my backpack then knock three times on the wooden door.
"Come in," a voice says from inside the room. With as much confidence as I can muster up, I turn the knob and push open the door. Inside there is a single round mahogany table with four cushioned chairs surrounding it. The white walls are covered with posters containing slogans such as 'Focus on Success' and 'The Four Keys to College and Career Readiness'. With his back to me, my tutor sits at the table typing away at his computer. His bronze disheveled hair makes me think he has been running his hands through it repeatedly. His tight grey t-shirt allows me to see the outline of his muscular arms and the contours of what I can only imagine to be a very strong back.
"Hi, my name is Bella. I'm here for my one o'clock session."
"Yes, please have a seat. I just need a moment," he says without looking at me. He continues to type what looks to be an email.
I shut the door behind me and walk around the table and choose the seat directly across from him. As I lower myself into the chair I can hear the rain hit the roof with greater force than when I entered the building. I set my bag on the floor and open the front zipper to retrieve my calculus book and notebook. Next, I grab my pencil bag to take out a pencil and calculator. With the items placed on table in front of me, I finally look up at my tutor. At that moment I realize why the name Cullen sounded familiar.
Sitting before me is none other than Edward Cullen.
Edward is a senior this year. He's incredibly smart and well liked by everyone. Guys can't help but envy his wealth and popularity and girls want nothing more than to spend a night in his bed. His father is a world renowned surgeon and a very generous benefactor of the school. The last I heard, the administration was planning on naming the new research building after him. Edward Cullen is the favorite among all the professors and he is currently sitting across from me...as my tutor.
I was raised to respect everyone. I was taught the value of money and I was told to never judge someone based on rumor mill speculation. I have never even spoken a word to Edward Cullen and yet I knew I hated him with every fiber of my being.
Edward has a reputation for getting around. And when I say getting around, what I really mean is that he's basically slept with every girl in my residence hall. Now, I wouldn't usually fault someone for having sex, even with numerous partners, but it's the fact that afterward, Edward ceases all contact with the girls. He ignores their phone calls and texts. He blocks their emails and deletes them from all social media. And if one of the girls manages to track him down, determined to make a relationship between them work, he goes off on a rage claiming that what they had done was a mistake and that he regretted having ever met them. Again, I wouldn't typically believe these claims even if they were being made by every girl on campus. The only reason I find myself staring daggers at Edward's downturned head is because this is what he did to my bestfriend. She believed there were redeeming qualities hidden underneath the egotistical playboy exterior, but she was wrong.
Right as I'm about to pack up my belongings and storm out of the room he looks up at me. I am momentarily paralyzed by his piercing green eyes. They hold me captive as he stares unblinkingly. He looks at me with mild confusion then smiles at me crookedly, showing off his perfect white teeth.
"Hey, I'm Edward. You're here to get help with calculus, correct?" he asks still smiling at me with that stupid grin. I want to give him a rhetorical remark about who here really needs help, but change my mind last second.
"You know what, you seem like you're really busy and I'm sure there is someone who needs your help more than me, so I'm just going to leave. I'm sorry for wasting your time," I gather my supplies and stand. There is no way I'm going to be tutored by this womanizer, no matter how desperate I am to pass finals.
"No, wait!" he responds quickly, with a hint of panic in his voice. "Please, I promise I'm not too busy for you. Besides, is sounds like there's a downpour outside and you've already made the trip here," Edward stands and gestures to the chair from which I've just risen, trying to convince me to stay. For the first time, I truly look at him. He stands over six feet tall, his strong athletic body towering over mine. Even I have to admit that he is incredibly attractive. Looking at him, his eyes silently asking me to stay, I almost consider sitting back down. Almost.
With the image of my best friend crying in my arms at two in the morning because of what this lowlife said to her in my head, I reply without remorse, "That's okay, I don't mind the rain." That was the first lie I ever told Edward Cullen. With one final glance at his disappointed face, I place my bag on my shoulder and walk out the door.