Hello everyone. This story was started a very long time ago, and left alone. I have a very sunny day off while my girlfriend is at work, so I'm going to take the time to go through every chapter and edit it. And then continue it.
I am sorry that it's been over a year.
My writing style has changed very much. However, I remember my outline/gameplan for this story, and I intend to stick with it. I am astounded by how many reviews this story has racked up in my absence. You guys are awesome. I will do my best to serve you guys justice!
If you want to know what I've been up to since I've been away, feel free to message me. I'll respond.
Prologue:
Life is like a clock. Time ticks away, and with every second you lose a bit of yourself.
Every minute that passes is a minute you will not be living. Every hour spent, is an hour spent doing something - and that something can never be done again - at the exact time, in the exact moment it was done.
Every moment is unique.
It's a simple concept, really; to believe that time is definite, time is subjective, and time is cumulative.
And as repetitive as life may get, moments will always vary and seconds will always pass; and sometimes, the things that happen in those moments are powerful. They can change things and they can change people. Indefinitely.
Now imagine me, Isabella Swan; imagine me standing in the streets of downtown New York, buying myself a hotdog. In a few seconds I would pay, and in a minute I would be eating said hotdog. Exactly a minute later, I would see her and my entire life would change forever.
This minute, would be unlike any other I'd ever lived.
...
"That'll be $2.50 please." Said the vendor, grinning widely at me.
I handed him three bills and told him to keep the change, walking over to sit on a ledge. I would have to go back to work soon, but I didn't want to rush this. I freakin' loved hot dogs.
I sunk my teeth into the supposedly-beefy goodness and suppressed a satisfactory, yet primitive, groan. This was so much better than being in the office.
I was interning at Target this summer; there was this huge side-project that the company had tossed around for months, but hadn't the time to really dive into. Thus it became my project for the 5 months I'd be there. Needless to say, I had become a 22 year-old workaholic and it wasn't even a real job.
Oh, the perks of not having a social life.
Fine, fine; I mean that in very loose terms. I had a social life - after graduating from NY University, I'd been blessed with Angela; the best friend anyone could ever have, and her boyfriend Ben. Yet, the time I spent with them was slowly decreasing, and I really only saw them on weekends now. I'd lived with them for a while, but they'd recently moved out of our downtown apartment to move into a condo on their own. That left me with a three-bedroom flat and a mighty big bill. So far, I'd gotten an old high school friend, Cooper, to room with me for the time being, but I was still looking for another roommate. New York flats were expensive, to say the least.
It was my clumsy nature to spill ketchup all over myself, and so that's exactly what I did. The second-last bite of my delicious lunch did not come without a price, as the hotdog entered my mouth and the bun did not - coloring my blouse red and yellow. "Great," I muttered, getting up and heading to the vendor to get some napkins. I should've foreseen this, really.
And as the kind man handed me napkins, a number of things happened.
To start, a huge gust of wind (uncommon in the sheltered streets of New York) tore the napkins from my fingertips and sent them cascading down the street, dancing with their new found freedom. My eyes followed their path, and I debated going after them (I wasn't one to litter). At the same moment at the end of the street, a girl rounded the corner, looking down at her phone as she did. A stray napkin fluttered around her legs, then continued its way down the street; yet, my gaze had stopped its pursuit. The napkin had taken me to the girl, and now I started the ascent from her feet to her face. In that exact second, her eyes left her phone and swept across the streets before her, lazily; the same second that her eyes had flitted from the one napkin that was dancing in her direction, to another napkin, on to the hotdog vendor, and then finally to me; her gaze locked with mine.
So let's talk about this.
Have you ever had those moments - those moments, where things just stop being? Those times where everything seems to freeze, and in the standstill you become more aware of your surroundings than you have ever been in your entire life? Those seconds - minutes - months that seemed so trivial to you before, suddenly reveal themselves; they become crystal clear in meaning, as if a curtain had finally been pulled open and you could see the hidden object you'd been so studiously oblivious to. That one time in your life - that one surreal time - where it is clear that everything you've ever done, was leading up to this moment, this place, and this feeling?
That's exactly what was happening to me.
In the noisy streets of New York city, on the dirty sidewalk where I stood, there was silence. People, hundreds of them, had just stopped existing; and not even the cars dared moved - the smoke from their exhaust frozen in this picture of stillness. Not in that second. In that second, the streets were empty. There was nothing except me, this girl, and three flitter-fluttering napkins blowing away in the distance.
I could see her with crystal clarity. I could see her short, raven hair, gently swaying with the wind; her light, pleasant skin, bathed in warm sunlight; her small figure, peeking out from designer clothes; and her warm, green eyes, locked onto mine. In that moment, my body did strange things and I knew, I just knew, I had to meet her. And not only would I meet her, I would know her and she would know me and all that mattered was that it was. It was, and there were no other words for it.
My lips parted ever so slightly, as if I were going to call out her name - a name I had yet to discover, and my hand moved a millimeter in her direction; and there was nothing else but this.
And then the moment ended.
It was almost overwhelming, my trance being broken. A horn honked in the distance, and birds continued their friendly chirping, the shuffling of busy people resumed all at once; and what it sounded like was confusion. The hotdog vendor still had his hand outstretched towards me, and my left hand hung suspended in midair, where the napkins had escaped them. My eyes were still on this mysterious girl, yet hers had moved along after that one moment.
The girl turned towards the street and started hailing down a cab. As if something had gutted me, right in that second, I felt, rather than chose, my legs move in her direction. I needed to meet her. I just needed to.
A yellow taxi pulled up in front of her, and I quickened my pace. The girl got into the backseat, and I got closer. The door shut, and I was even closer. The taxi signalled to get back onto the road, and I was now running.
I couldn't let her get away; couldn't she see I needed to talk to her? Didn't she feel the whole world stop, the entire place change?
The cab edged its way back onto the road just as I made it to the sidewalk where she had stood moments earlier, and I stopped at the end of the concrete, as if there was an invisible wall between her and I.
I hardly knew how I got there, but it wasn't fast enough - I stood there helplessly, watching the yellow vehicle drive away from me. I watched the most important person I've never met, drive away; and I was almost certain that that was the end of it. I would never see her again. I couldn't even chase after her, because for some reason, the New York traffic was nonexistent at this time and the taxi sped down the near-empty street. I could almost make out the shape of a designer-clad shoulder through the window.
And so I stood, with ketchup and mustard battle stains on my business blouse; suddenly not knowing anything anymore, suddenly aware of nothing except the fact that I had a meeting in 10 minutes at Target. I sighed and turned on my heel.
Though I would be discussing Ad services for the next two hours, the only thing that ran through my head was just one sickening mantra.
"She got away."
...
"Bella?"
The voice broke me out of my thoughts, and I blinked twice. My eyes stared at the television screen, but all I could focus on were the little fuzzies of the pixels.
A curly-haired Cooper stood in front of me, bowl and fork in hand. "Are you alright?" He asked me.
I looked up at him, my face generally point-blank. Cooper's face twisted in confusion and slight concern, and he waved three fingers in front of my eyes. "Are you sick? How many fingers am I holding up?"
I watched the boy's hand wave madly in my face, and the corner of my lips curled up. "Nine, at that rate." I replied.
That seemed to suffice for him, because he shrugged and landed in the seat beside me, causing me to bounce on the cushions. "Are you still thinking about her?" He asked, picking up the remote and flipping through the channels. I didn't answer, and he groaned. "Come on Bells, it's been forever." I could practically hear the multiple complaints that were behind that; Cooper had initially been supportive of this ordeal, but my zombie-state had worn him down quickly.
Forever? Yes, it felt that way; it really did. In actuality, it had been three weeks and two days since I'd seen her. Three weeks and two days since I could think clearly, and much to Cooper's misfortune, since I could talk about anything else. Instead of telling him what he already knew, I grunted. "I didn't say anything." I told him, like it was no big deal.
Ha, as if I could get anything past my oldest friend. He rolled his eyes. "You don't even have to say anything," He said.
"Am I obvious?"
He gave me a knowing look. "I made Kraft Dinner, and you're not at the bottom of the bowl yet." He said. That was explanation enough - we both knew that I loved mac and cheese. I had an affinity for anything unhealthy, processed, and ingredient-controversial.
I won't even lie, since the day I saw that mystery girl, I had been on a constant lookout. I had combed the streets during my lunch breaks, keeping around the area near the hotdog vendor. In a state of utter desperation, I had thrown a pile of napkins into the nonexistent wind and watched them litter the ground around me. To say the least, I was a little bit obsessed.
I knew it would pass - these things happen, right? I didn't know her, I didn't even know if this girl was nice; if she even wanted to get to know me. I was acting crazy. I was being ridiculous.
Yet I couldn't stop.
It was like an itch that I couldn't find, and I wouldn't be satisfied, and I wouldn't sit still, until I found it. I'd never been gay before, but you know how they say 'love at first sight'? I'm pretty sure this was a case of 'gay at first sight'. It was stupid; but it was what it was.
Cooper was cool with it - he's cool with everything. He said he'd called it before too; apparently my interest in video games and plaid shirts made me dyke-material. Whatever logic that came from.
I wasn't disputing it - clearly this new obsession was something more than general interest in personality.
Ah, a personality I'd never discover . . .
"Stop moping." Commanded Cooper, once again yanking me from my thoughts.
Apparently my face can be very expressive.
"It's hard not to think about it." I told him, grimacing.
"This is just . . . so unlike you," He said, shrugging. I knew he wished I could get over it - we used to hang out all the time. Drink a few beers and play Black Ops online with friends, or go out and just eat Chinese food, seeing where the night would bring us. Usually to a bar. "You're usually so laid back about everything. Except when you're hungry, then you're terrifying. But seriously, this chick is messing with your head big time." He said.
I sighed.
I knew he was right - this girl was messing with my head. And my general 'mopey-ness' of this whole situation put our hangout nights on hold for the time being. Cooper must of seen the look on my face, because his expression softened and he smiled. "I love you, even if you suck sometimes. You know that." He reassured me, throwing his lanky arm around my shoulder.
I leaned into him and smiled too. "You're an asshole, but I love you too." I told him. I meant that, really.
We spent the next hour and half watching mindless television shows; you know, the type that stage every scene for a separate punchline. Family Guy, That 70's Show . . . oh television, you are so entertaining.
It was nearing 5pm, and we both went to our rooms to change out of our pajamas - it was what we did on Sundays; pajamas the whole day.
Today though, there was a need to look presentable. We had a somebody coming over who had seen our ad for a roommate. As much as I loved it just being Cooper and I, the rent was ridiculous in this city and we needed another body in the flat. It was the first time I'd considered living with a stranger. I was okay with the idea, just as long as the person wasn't creepy or a douchebag. Messy? Cooper and I were like tornadoes leaving wreckage wherever we went. Messy wouldn't be a problem. Just as long as they were nice . . . I guess that's what the interview was for.
Like a movie, Cooper and I exited our rooms at the exact same time, our doors being right across from each other. I smirked at his Star Wars shirt, and he rolled his eyes at my plaid blouse. No words needed for that exchange.
We went straight back to the television - the bane of our existence, and waited. This guy would be coming soon. What was his name again? Jeremy? Jesse?
There was a knock on the door.
I glanced at Cooper, who shrugged. "Looks like Jasper's here."
Do tell me what you think. :)
For those of you that aren't familiar with my stories, I usually have one OC. And it's usually Cooper. You'll like him. :P
