He sits there, staring out of our bedroom window as the wind swirls the falling snowflakes in a hypnotic dance. His wavy, blonde hair tumbles over his face like a mask and I suppress the urge to get up from my perch on our desk and remove it. I sigh quietly, submerging myself in the memories that have made such a huge impact on my life, (or existence, as Edward would say). But it was this one that me complete, it was this one that wracked my tiny frame in acceptance and bliss.
Running, running, running.
The only thing I seemed to do naturally in this half-life of mine, besides
feeding, of course. One could never forget that.
I continued to sprint through small villages and cities and soon, entire states
as I raced eagerly toward the place that my mind had conjured up with perfect
clarity. Yes, I was absolutely certain that he would be there with that crazed look in
his ebony eyes.
Laughing as I thought of what his reaction would be to my presence, I
jumped over a chain-link fence and made my way to the bar that would showcase
my inevitable future.
Though our meeting would be odd indeed, I wouldn't have it any other
way.
Only a few minutes now, I thought impatiently, tapping my fingernails against the
wooden table that I was seated by. The only thing that could take my mind off of
the attractive male that I had envisioned was the stench coming off of most of the
men and the acrid smell of burning cigarettes.
A young woman had fallen victim to the attention of a haggard looking man
whose pick-up lines could barely be discernible to myself, let alone this poor,
human girl. His slurred words were giving me a headache and that was surely
saying something as I almost let out an impatient growl.
My attention was suddenly diverted to the barely moving clock and my
eyes were trained solely on the hands and digits, silently willing them to move
faster.
Three… Two… One…
The small ring of a doorbell caused me to whip my head around to the
sound and focus on the figure coming through. Just as I imagined, the lean,
blonde-haired man was staring hungrily at the human beings before him just as he
walked inside the small pub. I could tell that he wasn't breathing, the absence of
the usual rise and fall of the shoulders while a person took a deep breath didn't
escape my notice as he stood as still as a brick wall. He looked as if he were
straining against the urge to slaughter everyone in the room.
Huffing with renewed impatience, I leapt off of the bar-stool and skipped
merrily to his side with a large smile on my face. He looked at me with shock and
confusion etched onto his perfect, but scarred, face.
I crossed my arms and arched my brow, "You've kept me waiting long
enough."
With a sheepish smile, he tipped his hat forward and gave a slight bow.
"My apologies, ma'am."
Strong arms wrap themselves around my shoulders and hug me tightly to the torso
in which they belonged.
"Prying for presents already, Alice?" His voice held amusement and
adoration in its tone.
I laugh and lean back against his chest contentedly. "Wouldn't you like to
know, Mr. Whitlock."
He began to grumble like Edward does when Bella doesn't give him access
to her thoughts, "Oh, come now, Alice. That's hardly fair."
A pout was forming on his face when I look up and I had to stifle a giggle
as I patted his cheek in reassurance.
"No," I smile, "I was thinking that you are nothing short of a perfect
southern gentleman."
