I can't talk to him.
Yes I can. I am perfectly capable of making conversation with a Mr. McSexsex like the one next to me. I am NOT a hot mess of awkwardness. I am that minus the awkward. I am awesome. I am Bella Swan. I am a strong independent woman who is not intimidated by drool-inspiring pieces of man candy.
Oh, fuck it.
I am Bella Swan, but due to my horrible social skills and almost non-existent self-confidence, I am not able to talk to my fellow passenger, who overwhelms all of my senses. I actually feel fluttery...and breathless. Maybe if I hyper-ventilate and swoon on him he'll hold me and we'll live happily ever after. Or, more likely, he'll be repulsed and push you into the aisle. No, he seems too nice to do that, even though we haven't exchanged a word in the entire half-hour we've been flying. He did give me a smile when we sat down in our seats. That's probably why I'm so infatuated with him—that smile was…heart-stopping, not to be all clichéd. I sneakily try to inhale a huge breath of air through my nose, partly to calm down and partly because I want some more of his scent to grace my olfactory nerve. Which, due to conflicting reactions, leaves me in the same state as before. I sigh. He smells good, like man and mountains, but not mountain man, because that's stinky. I can feel the heat of his arms and legs, and it's making me heat up.
"Are you a nervous flyer?"
Oh, Kelly Clarkson, he spoke. I glance up at him, and he's giving me a kind smile that isn't patronizing, just, caring. Huh. I'm usually prepared for the former, because I look the sixteen years old I am, mostly due to my fashion choices, which consist of jeans and tshirts. I make the mistake of getting lost in his intricately green eyes. It's like one look and you're a goner, succumbed to the pits of…sexiness. Amazingly, I'm able to shake myself out of it.
"No, I actually really enjoy it. Turbulence and all." I smile and pat myself on the back. I'm pleased. It was a decent answer, not ideal, but definitely didn't make me sound like an idiot/creeper/and/or child like I'm often bound to.
"Me too-- most of the time. Except for turbulence. I've never met someone who liked it," he replied, looking at me and then down at his hands, almost shyly. Hmmm. When I really look at him, he doesn't appear to be as old as I thought he looked. More like 20 rather than mid-20's. Still too old and hot for me though.
"Hah. I figure if you're on the plane, you don't have any control over what happens, so you might as well enjoy it. Turbulence is kinda like a rollercoaster. 'No hands!'" I even put my hands up level with my head in a modified rollercoaster enthusiast pose. Oh no, oh no oh no oh no, I didn't. I did. I just made a perfectly normal conversation awkward. Oh thank god, he's laughing.
"That's a great way to look at it! Seriously, if we hit turbulence on this flight, we're doing that, because it really sounds like it'd make it less scary." He chuckles a bit afterwards. "My name's Edward by the way," he says, extending an arms across his lap in front of me.
"Bella," I reply, slipping my small hand into his much larger one. We give two firm, half-serious shakes before releasing, while I grin uncontrollably. If I thought I was tingly before, it was nothing compared to now. Why do guys always seem to have deliciously warm hands? And his were also calloused, which I liked, because who wants a guy who can't do any labor and consequently can't carry you around bridal style? Definitely not me. Hah, I love my logic, it makes so much sense.
"So are you headed to school in Boston? Or is that just a stop in your journey?" he asks. I'm really glad he's continuing the conversation, because I don't want to stop talking to him. And if he's initiating the efforts, it means he wants to, right? Wait, by school does that mean he thinks I'm in college? That would be… an enormous ego boost. My friend Angela and I, we're really shy, and after a couple good recent contacts with college boys that went bad due to them finding out our real age, we decided we should just say we're freshmen. Because what's a couple years? And you're never going to see them again. And when I say contact, I mean talking to a couple of guys at the parent's weekend tailgate where my brother Emmett goes to school, but only because he brought them over. Yeah. So, I decide to go with our plan.
"Yeah, I'm actually starting at Amherst in a couple weeks. I'm visiting some family first before orientation" It's not a complete lie, I am spending the last two weeks before junior year at my grandmother's house in Amherst. Since I'm there, and I love everything I've read about the school, I'm taking a tour. I won't have many other opportunities because I live in Washington, and who knows the next time I'll be able to fly across the country?
Edwards looks incredulous at my answer. He laughs, a huge smile on his face and says, "No way, me too! We'll have to meet up!"
Oh shit.
