Disclaimer: You're totally not a creeper.
xoxoxo
New York has a way of getting lonely, especially when you don't know anyone. The closest I have to an acquaintance outside of work is this guy on the subway, and we've never even spoken. He acknowledges me with a nod, and then goes right along his business. Sad, isn't it? I've been watching him five days a week, for the past six weeks, but that doesn't make me a voyeur, does it?
It's not a creepy type of watching, honestly. I can't help it; he's on the same subway as me every night, sitting in the same car, in the same seat. I'm a creature of habit; so I stick to know what I know. And what I know just happens to be this spot; I suppose he feels the same way.
He's a pretty boy, that's the best way to describe him. And I don't mean that as an insult; he literally is pretty; beautiful even. His skin is alabaster white; he makes me look like I have a tan. It suits him, however. His hair is bronze, eternally messy, as if he had already had his way with one of his conquests before he even got her on the train. Sex hair, that's what it's called. He looks exactly as if he's just been rode, and rode hard at that. His eyes are a dark, piercing brown, and he has amazing bone structure, and this crooked little grin that lights up the underground station.
The only thing that changes is the girl that accompanies him, and even then they aren't exactly varied. Pretty co-eds, all soft curves and bright smiles. I've seen him with just about every color of the rainbow; he goes through these girls like they're skittles.
I wonder how he even has time for classes, when he's always out chasing girls. He goes to NYU, I know that much. He obviously takes night classes, as he gets out the same time every day. And he's always with a girl, the ones who laugh at his every statement as if he's the most hilarious guy they've ever met.
He really has no common decency. Once we're in the subway, he's all over the girls, pulling them into his lap and not so subtly groping them, kissing his way over their exposed skin, making them moan. It's disgusting, how these girls let themselves be felt up in public.
Really, it truly is. It's not just jealously.
And he gets off one stop before me. Every night, he leads his latest conquest from the train, a little smile on his face.
One Tuesday, he turned that gorgeous, crooked smile on me. Just a brief smile, as he gave me the once over, before he departed, slinging an arm over the pretty girl besides him. It was nothing much, to be honest, but that smile set me on fire, it made me want to be one of those girls that he lead off the train.
A girl can dream, right?
xoxoxo
And someday, a dream is bound to come true. Two weeks and three days after he smiled at me, he approached me one night in the subway station, turning on that megawatt grin. My mind went haywire as he came closer. God, he was even more beautiful close-up, and he smelled amazing. Both manly and sweet, an intoxicating scent. Dimly, somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized that my panties were dampened just from that smile alone.
"Hello. I've seen you on the train for awhile, but I never got a chance to introduce myself. I'm Edward Cullen." He said, extending a hand. His voice was smooth, fluid. My heart pounded in my chest as I took his hand. He lifted mine to his lips, kissing the back of my palm, before lowering my hand, but not letting it go.
"Bella Swan," I replied quietly, and he continued to smile, even as the train pulled into the station. He waved his hand toward the train, following me on and taking the seat next to my normal one.
"It's very nice to meet you, Bella. A fitting name, for a young woman as beautiful as yourself." Edward smiled, casually draping an arm over my shoulder, pulling me close. I found myself looking into his eyes. Up close, the brown was less clear, less piercing. If I looked hard enough, I could see the edges of contacts around his eyes faintly. I wondered what color his eyes were, and why he'd want to cover them with contacts.
During my examination of his eyes, Edward had situated us, so I was on his lap, one hand pressed to my thigh, the one attached to the arm draped around my shoulder gently cupping my breast.
The rational part of my mind feebly informed me that I should be alarmed. The rest of me was far too caught up in his good his fingers felt against my breast, and the cool gust of air against my neck as he brought his face closer, pressing his lips lightly to the curve. My hands came up, lacing themselves together behind his neck as he kissed his way up my neck, pausing mere millimeters from my neck. He spoke, his sweet breath washing over my face, quashing all sense.
"I think we're going to be very good friends, Bella."
xoxoxo
Hey hey, boys and girls. I needed an outlet from 'Allow me to Introduce myself,' and this was supposed to initially start as Twilight set in college, then my fingers got away from me, and came up with this little doozy of prologue. In case you can't tell, Bella is out little subway creeper, watching Edward getting his freak on with numerous women. Bella's a sad little small-town girl, all along in New York, with a few issues. I'm going for a slightly darker vampire here, more on the feeding and seduction. My Cullens aren't going to be perfect angels; they'll all have their issues. Speaking of which, we'll be seeing them in the next chapter, depending on how you guys feel about this story.
Story title was kinda inspired by a Blink 182 song, 'Stockholm Syndrome,' not the actual song itself (although I was listening to it), but the title itself. So, yes. Just think about the title, and you have a pretty decent idea of how the story's gonna go.
Review? :)