Disclaimer: The one and only Stephenie Meyers owns all things Twilight. That includes Dream Edward, lovingly featured here. The other characters in When Two Worlds Collide – Maggie, Sarah and this particular Jacob, belong to me. When Two Worlds Collide and its author (moi) are in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
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Chapter 2. Turn the page
Immediately I was transported back to high school. The awkwardness, social anxiety, feelings of inferiority, and uncertainty of it all were there, jumping off the pages. I couldn't believe that a 30-something mother of three boys could so vividly dredge up bits of her high school experience, and strike a chord with what I assumed was millions of other girls and women like me – the ones who might have suffered a bit in high school, and who had been successful in putting it behind them, chalking it up to an eye-opening exercise in character-building. (At least that's how I liked to think of my years before college.) The way her main character Bella experienced the pains of not only being the "new kid" in town, but beginning a new school mid-term and having to adjust to a completely new life in the rainy, gloomy town of Forks was surely a winning premise for most readers. I questioned early on whether Bella accurately saw herself – all of the schoolboys practically tripped over each other to get her attention – but then again, what teenage girl is secure in herself? Hell, how many grown women can say they are? I absorbed Meyer's words like a sponge, despite the less-than-stellar writing, surprised at myself for surrendering my red pen and notepad within the first few pages so that I could focus more intently. Then I met Edward. The embodiment of the mysterious loner, Meyer's colorful description of him and his equally-ethereal siblings left me with cold, sweaty hands and a half-eaten, now stale PB&J sandwich. I could feel his harsh stare and apparent hatred of Bella as if he were looking at me with those black eyes. What is his problem, I wondered aloud. I felt like a teenager, gazing longingly at this perfect boy created in my mind – perfect pale skin, bronze unruly locks, strong jaw, nose and brow, pouty but not too feminine lips, and those eyes. In my mind, the hunger in them was obvious. If this was going to continue throughout the book, I was going to need more than one cold shower! And for what? There had been no gratuitous sex, no passionate kisses or even any touching! Yet I was enthralled and glued to the pages, my heart racing.
The afternoon quickly turned to night – I only knew this because soon I was pouring over this teen romance in the dark of my home office, my eyes straining to read each word. I realized I'd have to put the book down to get dinner (and turn on the lights), but found myself not wanting for anything but more "Twilight." Very interesting, I mused. I'd have to make a note of this instant infatuation in my review. After making myself another sandwich and turning on only enough light by which to read, I situated myself on my living room couch, and prepared for a longer shift of reading.
I read straight on until the sun began to edge over the horizon, and as it shone through my living room windows, I rubbed my eyes wearily and set the book down, emotionally and physically drained. For the first time in three years – probably the first time ever – I had read a book in one sitting! Usually never lacking for vocabulary, I was completely at a loss as to why this book and its characters had such a strong hold over me. I absentmindedly twirled a lock of my brown hair while I considered the possibilities. Was it the personal nature of the story? Was it the premise of young, first love and infatuation? Was it the supernatural vampire effect? While reading it, it felt like I was eavesdropping on an intimate conversation, or peeking through the window into someone's private fantasy world. It was amazing that despite the lack of physical intimacy in the book, that I had felt like I was Bella – my pulse raced, my thoughts jumbled, and parts of my body responded to the imagination of his touch. I could imagine his cold fingers on my hand, his head resting over my heart. This was bordering on the ridiculous, I told myself. You have never let a bunch of words affect you like this! But what an experience!
Completely exhausted and feeling like a cold shower would possibly help me sleep, I quickly showered, raked a comb through my long messy tresses and pulled the curtains closed. I stumbled into my old college t-shirt and shorts, and fell into bed, pulling the covers over my head.
That was the first time I dreamt of Edward Cullen.
