A/N: I wrote this before reading the 4th draft of Midnight Sun. It's Edward's Perspective on Bella in the first Biology class.
He looked at her intently, as his eyes danced upon her figure. Soft tendrils of hair brushed along her face as her eyes met his with an intense curiosity. It was an unmistakable request that he should make conversation with her, that he should come closer to the illustrious sight before his eyes. How could he not?
He now battled with his conscience, his demonic conscience that threatened to separated him from her forever. It cried to him that he was wrong, that he could no longer partake in viewing the sight before him, that it was forbidden, that it could never – no would – never be. His desire tore through him like a burning flame, yet his mind screamed at him that everything he yearning for was wrong. Try as he may, he could not tear his eyes away from her. Everything about her was desirable. The pale skin that could not compete with his own, the luster in her movements, the tapping of her fingers across the tabletop. How could anything be more tempting? The scent of her – he could not describe for it was too generous, too creative, too immaculate. It flooded the entire room around him, only so delicately, as if it were an invitation to him.
No, no! It wasn't to be, it could not be so! As he looked toward the clock he cursed. That accursed clock had only moved one minute! One insignificant minute! Then he sat back in his chair, astounded. Had he been observing her for an entire minute? Had he spent so long taking short quick glimpses of her? But why? It was nonsensical. How could he have spent so much time observing someone? Longer even than a human! An ironic smirk crossed his face as he momentarily concealed it. This matter could not be funny, even if he had been bewitched by that species. No, the irony would have to wait. In his lapse of judgment he had inhaled too much. He cringed at the astoundingly wonderful scent. Yes, he was a monster, but was he really to this extent? Had he not tried for many years to correct himself? Was this how he was going to lose himself?
Her eyes flickered toward him, in a manner that she presumably thought to be quite discreet. If only anything could be discreet to him. His hand continued to cover his face as he desperately tried to smell his own skin. The light scent which he was desensitized to could not compete with that which was so close... only inches... No! He mustn't think this way! What a vile creature he was. An innocent human! Was that more important than morality? He checked the clock again, though he had been counting the seconds in his mind. Another minute was all that had passed.
To make everything all the more difficult, he had no access to her mind. He could not stop this lust by hearing her thoughts and rationalizing with himself that she was a real living being that required protection, not destruction. If only he could breathe, perhaps the oxygen would help his brain, the brain that no longer desired oxygen and that simply desired – class. Yes, class would perhaps set his mind off this business. Mitochondrion. Dear heaven, didn't they ever teach anything new in high school? Was it necessary for him to have memorized every organelle in the cell at least 100 times? Why at this point, could they not tell him one fact in biology that he could not know? The answer of course was simple – that would be too much relief from this torment, the torment that threatened to overtake his conscience. His mind crossed boundaries and had the picture of coming closer to her, closer to her neck, within a closer proximity of that enticing prize. He would almost have to resort to physically shaking his head of these thoughts if they were to continue. He carefully wrapped his fingers on the edge of the table and squeezed it lightly when he was sure no humans would perceive it. The thought of biting his own hand even occurred to his mind, but how exactly would that look? Perhaps slightly cannibalistic? Another smile threatened to cross his face. If only he were that twisted, at least then such thoughts wouldn't plague his mind.
All right, there was only one option left. The one option he had tried to avoid at all costs until absolutely and entirely necessary. He would have to focus on her physical features to try and convince himself that her life needed to be preserved. He felt as if he would rather endure physical pain for eternity than do this. Slowly to himself, however undetectable to human sight, he looked toward his right and back. He saw only what he had before – dark brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin for a human, however he had also seen how incredibly nervous she was. Of course she was nervous, how could she not be? He was acting as if she were some sort or repulsive object when in fact she was the exact opposite. If only it were so. He continued to examine her in his discreet fashion. A slight paper cut on her right hand that had almost been healed, creases in her forehead and red lips... he stopped and turned his head slowly to the left. What on Earth had he just been thinking? If he had a heart, he knew it would have skipped a beat. He now sat in his seat, attempting to think of anything that would distract him from this situation, calculating his every thought so as not to remind himself of what sat next to him.
As the tedious minutes passed and the bell finally rang he bolted from his seat, eager to catch the scent of fresh air. He looked to the sky in exasperation. How could any of this possibly work out?