Prologue
The sad cold truth is that there is no such thing as a Romeo. All men are the same, cold, heartless, only care about sex. Love stories, classics, and even more modern ones are made up. They are made up by people who aren't happy with their love life. They are false lies. Made to give a young girl high hopes for love.
It was impossible for a man to fall in love with a woman and treat her nice, and give her things just because he loves her. Don't get me wrong. It's not material possessions that I'm after. All I've ever wanted was a happy life. I wanted a man who would treat me the way men treat women in love stories. I wanted the kind of man that girls everywhere would hate me for having. But, the only male creature in my life was my cat Prince.
Chapter One.
Too early, just as every day the morning beams of sun filtered in my little lace window blinds. My eyes felt forced to open, even though I'd much rather go back to sleep. Prince slept at my feet. Of all the cozy places in my apartment the cat picked my feet. I didn't want to move but I had to. I pulled my feet out from under the 20 pounds of cat blub and was greeted with a morning growl and a disgruntled stare.
Work. It was such a shame that was my first thought upon opening my eyes. However, I had to get to work. Newspapers don't just edit themselves.
As usual I was up ten minutes before my alarm was supposed to go off. There was really no point in setting it anymore. I hurriedly got dressed so I could leave the house early enough to pick up a coffee.
The coffee shop scene was where I fit in. I suppose that I'm the kind of person you'd see sitting at a table at Starbucks, holding a coffee in one hand and a book in the other. Probably sporting my pea coat depending on the weather. I was the kind of girl you'd see at a poetry slam or an art gallery. That was just where I belong. That was what I liked.
After getting dressed and making sure the cat had water, I hurried down stairs and got my things for work organized. I wasn't very good at organization. It was a good thing that I had my secretary Alice, or else I'd be in a lot of trouble.
I ran to the car, slipping on the post-snow ice that sheeted the ground in thick layers. Luckily I managed to catch myself before I went down. Only a few things slipped out of my workbag, and I managed to pick them up before they got soggy.
The weather was too cold here for my liking. I was used to the blazing hot sun and the dry, always summer air of my hometown Phoenix Arizona. Yet, I was in Chicago in the middle of the winter.
I wouldn't be here if it weren't for my Grandmother telling me to follow my dreams. I got a job offer at a major newspaper company in Illinois and I couldn't refuse the offer. It was the best offer I'd received since I'd gotten out of college.
As I drove my sleek small red car through the busy streets of Chicago, I noticed something. Of all the bizarre things there were to see in this city, this one stood out. It wasn't the hookers I'd noticed; I didn't notice the homeless people, or even the street performers. It was a man that I noticed. A man with bronze hair, carrying a rather large stack of books, I stopped at a red light, and gawked. He was an average looking man – there was no reason he should have stood out but for some reason, he did. His cheeks were red, from the icy weather and his hair was windblown. But, that didn't surprise me. Chicago was called "The Windy City" for a reason.
A car horn blared and I jumped, forgetting about the book man. The person behind me was warning that the light had turned green. I drove in the direction of my favorite Starbucks. It was usually not very busy because there happened to be a Dunkin Donuts conveniently placed right across the street.
I pulled into the back parking lot of my favorite coffee shop and quickly went inside to keep out of the elements as much as possible. The line was unusually long, and I could tell through the foggy window of the back door. A few more people slowly filed in. I didn't hurry into the line, I took my time, it honestly didn't matter if I was a few people behind where I would be if I had run.
I wasn't particularly watching where I was going and suddenly something hit my face and I fell back on to the ground. Obviously some one had walked into me while carrying something. I growled up at whoever it was, but my face really hurt. My nose was burning and my eyes had even begun to water. The person that ran into me dropped what they were carrying in their hands and I watched as books fell to the ground. I caught a glimpse of one of the books. It was "Piano Performance for Dummies." So, it was obvious who ever it was happened to be musical.
"Oh, god. I'm so sorry, are you alright?" A musical velvet voice spoke to me and I looked up, stifling a gasp. It was the book man, who I'd seen on the street. I couldn't say anything so I continued to gape.
He offered me a hand and I took it. His hand was very cold, and I shivered. "Are you alright?" He asked me again as he helped me on to my feet. I simply nodded, slightly amazed at how our paths crossed.
I was sort of angry – I was sure that my nose was broken – and so I gave him a dirty look. "I'm very sorry...." He stared at me not sure what to say.
"Bella." I told him.
"Right, I'm very sorry Bella." His moss green eyes seemed sincere enough so I figured that I could forgive him.
"That's alright..." Shoot, I'd done the same thing as him and his mouth spread into a half grin that was slightly lopsided. Two rows of perfect teeth gleamed in the fluorescence.
"My name is Edward. Pleasure to meet you Bella." I realized that he still held my hand so he simply shook it.
"Same to you." I grinned slightly and removed my hand from his. Even though he was incredibly good looking, he was not Romeo. He was a man. Just another sex-crazed football watching insensitive man. I couldn't think to nicely of him. However, it was common courtesy to help him pick up the books he dropped in his attempt to help me, so I bent over stacking them into a neat pile and handing them back.
"Thank you." He smiled warmly and I felt something inside me flutter. But I mentally scolded myself and repeated the repelling words. "Not Romeo, Not Romeo" inside my head.