Stay away from her Edward Cullen. She is not what you think she is...
Alice's silent warning was unheard as I stared into that figure.
The dark circles under her eyes, the messiness in her hair like waves upon waves intertwisted with each other, her thin lips, the delicate ring on her slender finger, her chocolate brown eyes, and her pert bottom as she turned around and strut her way out of my vision.
The top three buttons of her shirt were unbuttoned, giving a desiring glimpse into her chest. Though her messy hair obstructed the vision; was that a tank top covering her modesty? Or did I imagine such a thing to protect her modesty?
There was uncertainty clouding over this girl, woman. When I'm sure that she was in pain, she looked up into the sky with so much expressed hope that I rubbed my eyes twice to make sure I saw what I saw. And then, when I'm sure that she likes dandelions, there's paintings of lilies of all sorts all around her house- no dandelions.
Isabella Swan was a dead woman and I need to find out why.