Disclaimer: Nothing of this belongs to me; only the madness.

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Do I Have Any Chance With You?

By LadyCornamenta

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Chapter I: No.

It had been exactly a month since I had seen her for the very first time. It had been the tenth of January, casually, in company of the ruthless cold in the prime of winter. I had gone out of the university with a huge pile of work to do and some personal obligations related with my family, who was living a few kilometers far from there. I had come into that cafe trying to take shelter from the threatening clouds and the intense wind. After taking my coat off, I had found a place in a table next to the window, where I left my books and my bag. I had ordered one of those coffees I liked and something to eat; I kept myself busy watching the shapes the raindrops made on the window's crystal.

Then she had came into the cafe. It must had been around five o'clock in the afternoon, and she had seemed to be in the same situation I had been: she was soaked, with a little rucksack hanging on her shoulder, and her hair was messy. At the beginning she had just taken my attention as any other person who went into the place as another entertainment for my waiting, but that hadn't lasted a very long time. In a fashion cafe like that, it was normal to see groups of teenagers talking about the latest discs, all the new movies or those actors they liked, about what there were doing that weekend or the latest entertainments in the city. But she, lonely as me, had sat on one of those high bar stools with nobody to talk to. After having a few words with the waitress, she had picked up her rucksack and had taken out an old and ramshackle book. Then, in the noisy atmosphere, she had started to read with an enviable calmness. I didn't know how long I had been staring at her, but the truth was that, since that day, I couldn't stop doing it.

A month after the first meeting, I had already known many things about here, little superficial details: I knew she always arrived there between four past thirty and five o'clock, she had a strange preference for dark clothes, the novels she always took with her had been written by Jane Austen —and old and well-known author of the romantic genre—, that she always ordered the same coffee with cream and caramel, her position in the cafeteria never changed and that she seemed to be upset when girls sat close to her who started to talk nonsense loudly. The way she puckered her lips, the way she moved her nose or her eyes... everything about her captivated me. Her bushy and messy brown hair-moving as her head did gave off sparkles of colors between red and chocolate. She had become my little distraction, my reason to wait the afternoon anxiously and to beg that the morning pass quickly. She had turned into my silent obsession, even when I didn't know her name; she had turned into my little incentive, even when we had never talked to each other at all.

That cold and windy afternoon on the tenth of February she arrived at a quarter to five. After sitting in her usual place, she had taken out her novel. The waitress had came up to her and she had made her order; then she went back to concentrate in her book

I rested on my seat, looking at each of her movements carefully, asking myself what her name could be, as I did every afternoon. I couldn't even imagine it; the possibilities were too many to conjecture and go nowhere again.

I knew which one was the best solution; I knew what I should do. It had been clear for me since the first day I had stared at her for too long. Since that day I had realized I was completely captivated by her. However, I was too much of a coward to come up to her.

Suddenly, that stupid confidence started to rush through my veins- that certainty that everything would be alright. 'Why don't you get closer to the mysterious girl and talk to her? Which was the objective of staring at her from the outside if I could get something more?' I thought. Almost without noticing it, I found myself standing next to my table. If somebody had looked at me, he had probably thought I was an idiot, because I moved forward and then back many times, like I was dancing or something. However, before I could do anything but that stupid swinging, her mobile rang. She answered the phone in a hurry and had some short words with the one who was calling her. After that, I only saw her putting her mobile in her rucksack and standing up. Then she disappeared behind the door and I stayed there, standing in the middle of the cafeteria and with my face distorted by surprise.

I came out of my stupefaction just because I heard a singsong laugh. I turned to see a pair of eyes the color of topaz and the little face of the waitress.

"She will come again. She always does" she commented in an optimistic way, giving me some soft pat on my back.

"Do you know her name?" I asked, still staring at the place where she was minutes before. It didn't even bother me the fact that the waitress had discovered my interest in that lady.

"Isabella, but she prefers to be called Bella" she answered.

Bella. That name clearly sounded better than all the others in my head. That lady was beautiful, in all the ways and all the languages.

That night was the first night I dreamed about her. However, for Bella, I was nothing but a complete stranger.

No, there weren't chances with her -beyond my impossible dreams.

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Hello everybody! It's really nice to be here finally. This is an old Valentine's story that Cindy encouraged me to translate. I have to thank .BeautifulDreamer.x and the-vampire-act for their help as Beta Readers. Really, thank you for your work!

It's a short Edward-Bella of just five chapters like this one. Not long, not twisted. It's a simple story.

I hope you have enjoyed it. Did you like it? I will be waiting for your comments!

Take care!