I'm surprised at the response and happy to see it. Thank you everyone who has followed, favorited or reviewed my first chapter. I'm super happy and it makes me proud to be a writer.
Here is my next chapter and I hope you enjoy and have a happy read. It gets good ;) and we learn a little more about our asshole, Logan Briggs. Sorry for another long chapter! They get shorter, I promise!
Disclaimers: Twilight is not mine; Kumi-Chan is doing this because of green eyes (see what I did there)
Chapter 2: Green Eyes
"Edward..." He was there, he was really there. Standing a few feet in front of me.
"Edward, I―"
My words would have been Edward, I love you but for some reason... I suddenly was a mute. I couldn't find the voice to say anything. I couldn't find the action to do anything.
But stare.
And marvel in his beauty.
The way the sun made his skin glow with over a million, iridescent sparkles. His pink lips curved into that signature crooked smile, butterscotch golden eyes so full of love; devotion.
We were in our meadow. Our secret meadow full of lush green grass, any flower imaginable and love. Pure love.
"Bella..." He breathed, his velvet, musical voice oozing over me like ice cream melting down it's cone. Edward's tone was barely above a whisper. A whisper that sent me running eagerly through the open field towards him.
"Bella..." He whispered again, his eyes slowly fluttering shut. The crooked smile evaporated from his face and he held out a hand, all while slowly―eerily taking steps back as I stumbled to meet him.
Edward began shifting back until he was at the forest line, the dark green leaves of the trees concealing his glimmering, pale skin.
"Edward!" I shouted, tears coating my eyes. "D-Don't go―don't leave!"
He said nothing, his chest rising up and then falling back down gently.
Gingerly.
He was slowly turning.
I opened out my arms. Trying to reach him. Trying to grasp his hand and never let it go. Pull myself closer to him.
But running at a great speed was almost impossible.
My legs felt weak―I was struggling to run through our meadow. I look down at my feet, willing and expecting them to go harder, better, faster, stronger―but I gasp at what I see.
The grass―now brown and decorated with wilted flowers―was shifting with him. Shifting with Edward. And as I blank my eyes once, twice... I wasn't in the secret meadow anymore.
I was... in the forest.
The same forest that would later haunt the bane of my existence.
And he was there.
Back turned.
Walking away in a slow motion.
While I was struggling to catch up to him. To stop him from leaving me. To make him love me all over again.
Fallen branches and vines grabbed at my feet, trying to pull me down with them. Low hanging branches whipped at my face, leaving burning scratches and shallow cuts―my cheeks feeling as if they had been slapped over and over, repeatedly.
He was walking up a hill. And gave one glance back at me.
I came to the same hill moments later, but tripped over my own two feet.
"Edward, wait!" I yelled.
He was getting farther and farther up the hill; the forests breaking off to show a large cliff and vast, steep fall. But I had to reach him. I had to catch up. I needed to be with him.
So I began crawling upward.
The loose foliage beneath my feet making me slip continuously. I would paw my way up, feeling as if my last ounce of energy had been spent within the last few minutes that felt like an eternity. But I couldn't stop. I wouldn't stop. Not until I was at the top of that hill and back in his arms. Embraced in his love.
As I reaches the top, I froze for the face that he stopped.
He was at the edge of the cliff―his toes hanging off―staring deeply down into the dark, thrashing waters below it.
I scrambled to my feet, the tears streaming down my stinging face.
"E-E-Ed-Edward...?"
He held out his hand.
My heart lurched me forward―I'd be with him. I'd be with him even if he jumped.
I was shaking.
Shaking like a motorboat.
I don't know if it was the eerie chill that blew through the wind or the fact that I was scared of him for once.
I took the first step. And then another. And another.
I loved him. I loved him and he was my everything. The air that I breathed. The―
Don't do it. A voice suddenly whispered.
I paused.
Don't fucking do it. The voice hissed this time.
I gulped.
I have to. I whispered back.
Edward's hand was outstretched and waiting for me; it clenched into a fist and then unclenched. He beckoned me forward.
Don't do it, Bella. The voice said, the slow-tone sending more unwanted shivers down my spine. He forgot you. He left you. Remember that.
But I shook it off. I shook it out of my head and charged forward to Edward.
I grasped his hand and felt myself be pulled into his icy embrace.
"Edward..." I murmured as one arm wound itself around my back and a hand tangled in my messy hair.
His lips crashed fiercely onto mine.
But it wasn't his usual chaste kiss―this one burned. Made my lips feel like I was a hand pressed against a hot stove. And it felt... wrong and I felt... in danger.
Edward kissed me until I couldn't breathe. I was struggling against his lips and his cool breath slowed until he wasn't unnecessarily breathing anymore. His breathing was replaced with low growls. A low growl building up in the back of his throat.
I snapped my eyes open, my brows furrowing into a knit at his own―no longer the warm, genuine butterscotch.
But instead a dark, endless black that showed no emotion.
No emotion other than the carnal want of the very monster I claimed himself not to be.
The hand around my waist clutched my hip so tight that I thought my pelvis would break from the pressure. The hand tangled in my hair started tugging―pulling so hard that I felt like a chunk of my scalp might be removed. And he bit down hard on my bottom lip.
Drawing blood.
"Edward..." I whimpered, the tears blinding my eyes, "Pl-Please!" I screamed against his lips. "Stop!"
But he only growled. And started sucking the blood from my lip. Crushing his hand over the bone of my hip. And pulling on my hair so hard. And shoved me with force.
I felt myself falling. The wind blowing so fast against my face, loose locks of my hair thrown down into the dark abyss of a sea with me.
Edward Cullen had just drank my blood, bruised and nearly crushed my bone, yanked out a chunk of my hair and ripped my heart into even more shreds. It was too late for me to react upon being tossed off the cliff―my pitiful screams silenced by the splash into the water and the violent waves rushing over me.
"Bella?!"
A scream choked out the back of my hoarse throat as I was shook out of my drowning coma.
My eyes snapped open and I shot out of bed, holding a hand to my chest that heaved up and down erratically as I took in huge breathes of air. My fingers were clenched around my sheets tightly, making my knuckles turn white.
Quickly, I lunged out of bed, and stumbled to the bathroom, locking the door shut behind me.
"Bella, sweetie, what happened?!" I heard Renèe as she furiously knocked on the bathroom door.
I looked in the mirror, my hand immediately and automatically touching the patch of hair that got yanked by him. And then stroked the left, protruding hip bone as a way too soothe.
"Are you alright?" Another voice―Phil―asked, concern laced in his tone.
"I'm f-fine," I stuttered with a cracked voice. "I just... I just had a bad dream―but I need a shower, mom... Phil..."
Renèe knocked on the door again. "Bella, you..." She paused. "You were thrashing around in your bed, sweetie. And whimpering and would scream once in a while..."
"Are you sure you're alright?" Phil added.
I give a meek nod to my petrified reflection in the mirror. My hand still placed over the patch of hair yanked in my dream―nightmare.
"Yes." I croak. "I had them all the time as a kid remember, mom?" It was a lie. I've never had intense dreams or nightmares for that matter at all as a child. But I hope saying that will make her just go away from a moment.
I felt like I was going insane.
Why did I dream that?
Why did he... push me? And yank out my hair? And bite me? Physically hurt me?!
And who told me don't do it? Not to go to him and take his hand? That he left me? Forgot me?
Who was it?
"Bella, it's just me now." Renèe said softly against the door. "Sweetie―he told me. Charlie told me about the nightmares in the middle of the night about him. I didn't want to say anything in front of Phil―"
I was a great listener. I was supportive in hearing what others thought or what they had to say. Considered stubborn by some, sensible to a lot. But I didn't and couldn't listen to my mom carry on.
Not this morning. After that nightmare.
Instead, as she talks to me through the door, I find myself rummaging under the sink-cabinets and through the drawers.
Yesterday after deciding I wanted to enroll in San Ramon Valley High, we did go shopping. And because I was on the whim of try something new, I was open to and let Renèe pick all of my clothes, shoes and whatever else. We also bought feminine things―things I would have never been close to picking up:
Hairspray, hair dye, lipstick, mascara, eye shadow, lace bras and underwear sets, accessories and even more pink.
Most of the things Renèe got reminded me of Alice and Rosalie. The glamorous Cullen girls that I missed dearly. It hit a sore spot somewhere in the chambers of my chest.
But among other things... there was a pair of scissors brought.
And I was looking for said scissors.
"―if there's one thing I want you to know Bella..." Renèe whispered as I finally found them. "Sometimes, you're going to miss them. You're going to cry."
Staring in the mirror, at the distressed brunette with widened brown eyes as she tightly clutching a lock of her hair in one hand and scissors in the other... I take a deep breath.
And snip!
The tears fall as I continue to just cut and snip each long lock, meanwhile Renèe goes on, her tone somber, "But sometimes you have to delete those messages. You have to delete those numbers and move on. Bella, you don't have to forget who he was to you―you just have accept that he isn't that person anymore."
Snip!
That was the last lock of hair.
I dropped the scissors on the counter of the sink and sigh heavily, fanning and ruffling my fingers through my hair―cut short to the nape of my neck.
"Bella?" Renèe knocked. I trudged to the door and opened it, looking down at the cherry wood floors when she gasped. It sounded like a referee blowing a whistle.
A shaky hand reached out and touched my elbow, which was where my wavy brunette hair used to reach. "You c-cut your hair...?"
Her gaze shifted from my cut hair to the loose locks sprawled out all over the bathroom floor and sink.
I touch the spot that was yanked out by him.
If I had no hair long enough for him to hold... then he couldn't pull it out.
"I guess... that when I said I'd try something new... it included a new hairstyle..." I trail off, a blush spreading from my cheeks to my neck. "Does it look that bad?" I shake my hair out.
When I had the scissors in my hand... I wasn't even here. My body was just moving mechanically. All I did was snip! snip! snip! and hear her words ring in my head.
"It looks―" Renèe clutched her stomach, blue eyes pricking with tears drops. "Bella... it looks great!"
Mom wrapped her arms around me and started bawling.
Which was unexpected and then expected at the same time.
She would never be mad with me for something like cutting my hair―she could either be sad or happy. I was weighing on sad, but it looks like happy got the better of her emotions.
She slid her fingers in and out of my hair, crying on my shoulder and sniffling about how it's the 'new me'.
New everything, I guess...
Including new nightmares...
But whenever I dreamed about Edward, it was never of him hurting me. It was always happy moments turned bad―but it was never to the extent of physical pain.
Thus making that one the frosting on the cake.
I was scared in my dream. And I was scared now.
Truly scared.
But mom pushes those thoughts to the back of my mind.
"We can t-take you t-to get it trimmed and styled―you didn't c-cut it bad, Bella―it's s-so beautiful!" Renèe sniffles, crying some more while I pat her back and cracked a smile for the first time this morning.
She was such a kid.
"Mom―Phil must be slaving in the kitchen..." I chide. "Can we please go eat?"
"You're hungry?" She raised eyebrows while drying her tears.
I nod.
"Bagels, a fruit-salad, tea and oatmeal?"
I nod again.
Renèe sniffles once more and then the biggest smile plasters on her face. "My Bella is hungry!" She bounced on the balls of her feet before linking her arm with mine and marching us out of my room and into the kitchen.
I don't know why I suddenly felt the urge to eat. Why I cut my hair in the first place other than the reason of fear... but after that dream... something changed within me. I felt... free? No―it was way too early. But I felt something though. And I couldn't put my finger on it as I rounded the marble-island and took a seat on one of the stools.
"Toasted?" Phil questioned with a smile, holding up the bag of raisin bagels.
I nod. "Golden if it's not too much trouble." And grin.
"Coming right up!" - "And love the cut, Bella. It suits you."
I grab a spoon from my silverware and start playing with it while waiting on breakfast . "... thanks, Phil. It's something new."
.
.
.
Worrying is like sitting in a rocking chair. It gives you something to do but doesn't get you anywhere.
Just go in, Bella.
My hand hovered above the door knob that opened my first class of the day. AP Literature.
No, I don't want to. I bit down on my bottom lip and chewed, contemplating the next move.
It was one thing to wake up from a horrible nightmare and chop off my hair on a whim. But it was another thing to start another school as a complete stranger to everyone in sight. Well, not a stranger to Green Eyes―but a stranger to just about everybody else.
Renèe went a bit overboard with shopping and picking outfits. Frilly and expensive clothes were brought from Forever21, American Apparel, H & M, Honey Bear, Vanity Fair, and other leading department stores.
She even picked what I was going to wear today on my first day―If it made her giddy and served to be a bonding moment for the two of us, then why not?
Mom picked a faded jean ensemble:
High-waisted jeans that stopped, a cropped-ribbed white t-shirt and black and white "jelly" sandals that wrapped around my pale ankles. Add a matching jean jacket that she draped over my shoulders and a black, faux leather baseball cap.
She pat my cheeks with light blush, brushed on a bit of mascara and made me gloss my lips with a nude pink, velour lipstick.
It was above my standards―but... something new. And when she pushed me in front of the mirror... I barely recognized myself.
"Holy shit," I gasped at the 'new Bella' staring back at me.
"You look gorgeous, honey!" Mom exclaimed, before running off down the hall and returning back with a camera. She snapped a lot of off guard pictures and giggled about how she's send them to Charlie back in Forks. "It's the new you and I'm loving it!"
But the main question is... was I loving it?
Taking a quick breath in and deep breath out, I grasp the handle and give it a twist, slowly opening the door.
Immediately, the attention on the teacher―a middle-aged woman with a name-plate on her cherry wood desk that said Mrs. Wraine―shifted to me. I handed her my transfer slip. Meanwhile, my face started to feel hot at the different pairs of many eyes staring at me; some curious, others interested, a few bored and...
"FUCK!" I jumped slightly at the deep, husky voice that broke the stagnant silence.
I suppose I should be grateful to God or fate or whoever, since the spotlight was taken off of me and shined towards the back of the classroom.
"What was that, Mr. Briggs?!" Mrs. Wraine scolded, her dark eyebrows narrowing.
It was Green Eyes.
His eyes were trailed on me; he was sizing me from top to bottom. He stuck his sleek tongue out and slowly grazed them over his lips. As I blinked, those different-shades-of-green-colored eyes glared and then shifted to the teacher at the front with arms placed haughtily on her wide hips.
He smirked, leaning back in his seat while folding his arms behind his head to be used as a potential headrest, "DUCKS, miss."
His response had a few snickering and had many giving him questionable looks, including the teacher.
"I fricking love ducks, miss." He explained, causing everyone to start laughing.
Logan played off his façade with a cocky smile that slowly spread across his face and nodded his head, which made Mrs. Wraine and myself roll our eyes.
I had only met him briefly yesterday and already figured out that he was a cocky, mysterious and blunt asshole―but a few things were certain. He didn't say ducks, I have no idea if he really fricking love ducks for real, because if he does... that is fairly weird and he probably eats them―alive―but also... that he indeed did say fuck. Much less to when I walked in and handed the teacher my slip. And that he put on façades.
But why were those façades needed?
Did me attending this school really set him off balance? And did he really think I'd heed his 'warnings' not to attend San Ramon Valley under the circumstances of me being "a ditzy brunette chick from the city that liked to come and fuck shit up"?
Even though I'm not from the city and do not 'fuck shit up'.
Mrs. Wraine was a busty woman of Hispanic descendent with a perfect American accent. If she tried too hard, perhaps you'd here the Spanish roll off of her tongue. She was middle-aged with salt and pepper hair that she styled up in a neat bun and wore small, rhinestone glasses. On her tiny finger was a glimmering ruby stoned ring―her wedding ring I suppose―and she had one of those million watt smiles.
Because at the moment, she was smiling one at me.
She motioned to the only available seat in the back―next to him. Logan Briggs, the boy that loves ducks.
As I slowly took my seat, he let out a huff and cocked his head towards me. "So you came here after all, sweetheart."
"Bella." I corrected him, not sparing another glance. He wasn't going to phase me today... at least I hoped.
"And I saw you chopped your hair." He whispered, his tone actually... thoughtful? Green Eyes touched my elbow, which was where my hair used to reach before this morning. His usually wild green eyes weren't so wild anymore―they were curious, questioning and... again, thoughtful... I felt myself blushing at the feel of his skin on mine, even if he was only touching my elbow and... slowly trailing fingers up my arms, as if he was marveling the paleness of my skin, comparing it to his own. But then that reached out hand snatched back the moment my eyes met his and with a scowl, he flipped off the baseball cap on my head and snickered.
Rolling my eyes at him, I counter back, "And I see you noticed." Then bend over the desk to pick it back up.
I hear him huff in a murmur, "I didn't."
I was about to respond until Mrs. Wraine clasped her hands together and chimed in a warm yet enthusiastic tone, "Class, we'd like to welcome a new student―Isabella Swan, all the way from the little town of Forks."
She motioned a hand out to me with another million watt smile, "Please―introduce yourself, Miss. Swan."
"Bella." I stood, twiddling my thumbs. I wasn't one for being the new kid and while these were new people... I still had an obligation to be nervous and my usual awkward self. "C-Call me, Bella... I'd prefer that than Isabella."
I was about to sit until I noticed everyone was staring at me still―including Logan Briggs. "B-But... I'm from Forks," I nod, tugging my bottom lip in between my teeth. "As Mrs. Wraine said. And it is a small town..."
"Tell us why you're here and something about yourself." A random female voice with a heavy Caribbean accent blurted out before I could happily take my seat. I stood up straight.
"Ah, yes. The old T & Y―it's a constructive teaching method I used when I first started teaching in order to break in the introductions for new students, Bella." Mrs. Wraine explained, gesturing to me. "If you wouldn't mind, we'd love to know your T & Y―as Chérii said, tell us why you're here and something about yourself."
I chewed my bottom lip. Shrugging, "Is it possible to pass?"
Mrs. Wraine smiled and waved off my question, "Nonsense, Bella! We all had to go through it at least once. There are some weird teachers here that make you say your ABC's backwards to earn a seat in the class―mine is so simple, a kindergartener would pass with flying colors!"
"... Perhaps this 'Bella' needs a revisit to Kindergarten."
I turned to the nasally tone, eyebrows furrowed. "Excuse me?"
Her clear blue eyes narrowed into slits and she pursed her small lips. "If you're going to pass―I'd pass on that ridiculous haircut." She high-fived the two girls surrounding her and smirked smugly when most of the students started laughing at her 'friendly suggestion'.
"Madison..." Mrs. Wraine scolded, shaking her head.
"Honesty never hurts, Mrs. Wraine." Madison coyly retorted, a hint of smugness engraved in the features of her fair skinned face.
Madison was an inch or two shorter than me, with clear blue eyes that reeked of mischievousness and a head full of dirty-blonde curls. I couldn't tell if they were natural curls or if she just primped them to look that way but something about her spelled Trouble. With a capital T. She reminded me of Lauren Mallory at Forks High and with a similar nasal tone like Lauren had, hers sent shivers down my spine.
Shivers that made me grit my teeth and clench my fists. I looked at her and she looked at me. Her eyes challenging, my eyes empty.
"Your opinion," I heard Mrs. Wraine say, "was inappropriate, Miss. Perky. Perhaps your father―"
"Mrs. Wraine, with all due respect, daddy says he has no time for meager squanders with my peers, you know since he is the principal and does have a seat in the Danville political party―I doubt he'd like to hear about a simple joke on a classmate gone wrong." She rudely interrupted the teacher.
Great, it was the first day and someone already had a problem with me. A rich one at that. One with connections to politics and the school―the principal for Christ's sake! Bella you can never catch a break, can you?
No, I could never. If I wasn't bothered emotionally, then I was bothered by the likes of people who just instantly took a disliking to me or people that drove my curiosity to its rope's end like Logan behind me.
Who... Madison kept glancing at. Her gaze would shift from him and then to me. Back and forth, back and forth until finally settling on me. And then she'd glare.
Oh, God. Please don't tell me. . . .
"Oh, and there's the bell." She pointed to the clock plastered on the wall by the door. The bell rang and students began packing up, chatter raising the once tense and silenced room.
Madison gathered her two textbooks and Prada handbag. "Ciao, now. Wouldn't want to uphold a bright young lady looking forward to a bright education."
"Okay―class dismissed..." Mrs. Wraine trailed off, her face indifferent. She waved to the students leaving out the door and tapped Logan on his back, flashing a solemn look to him. He only smirked as a reaction and strode out, his long legs carrying him down the hall. She smiled at me though, "Bella perhaps we can try again tomorrow...?"
I nod and grin. "Sure."
And then jog to catch up to Green Eyes... maybe he'd give me insight on the Madison Perky situation... and where my next class would be.
"Where's your owner?" Logan absentmindedly questioned, peeking a wild green eye at me.
I shuffled to his side, walking to match his fast pace. He stuffed a hand in his pocket and shifted his―nearly empty compared to mine―leather backpack over his shoulder. "P-Pardon?"
"O-Oh," he mocked, rolling his eyes before tilting his head toward mine, "you know, since you think it's okay to follow me around like a lost puppy―I figure your owner was missing you or something."
"My owner died." I say, making him stop. I stopped too, shrugging. "And left me behind. Left me with the main objective of finding my second class. He entrusted my fate of wandering aimlessly in the hands of an A-class asshole named Logan Briggs."
"But you know, if I got the wrong asshole... then―" I stopped and took a glance around the crowded hallways, finding a decent looking guy dressed in plaid and khakis. I pointed a finger to him, "That gu―hunk looks up to the job."
Logan eyed me for a second before slowly grazing his tongue over his pink, perfectly sculpted―his lips. He licked his lips and held out a hand.
I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion before he snatched the pink slip of paper from my hand. His green eyes skimmed over my schedule.
With a sigh, Logan shook his head and folded it once, twice, slipping it in my back pocket.
My eyebrows slowly knit together and then narrowed as he gawked at my lips and then into my eyes, bluntly saying, "Well, fuck me." He let out a groan, walking forward.
I followed behind him as a light blush consumed my entire face, murmuring, "N-No thank you."
He only glances at me, snickering. "It's an expression, pussy cat."
We turned into a corridor. "We have English and Chemistry together. Algebra II and Gym. Then Lunch." He licked his lips once more, looking down, I guess to gauge my reaction.
But all I could whisper back was, "Lunch isn't a class..."
"It is if you got the munchies." He elbowed me. "Chemistry is right there."
We walked into the classroom, students already settled at different lab tables, set in pairs.
Logan walked all the way to the back. "Lucky for you, we're getting a new chemistry teacher today."
"What happened to the old one?" I questioned, taking a seat on the stool at the same table as him. I watched as he scooted his stool as far away from me as possible, swinging off his leather jacket before placing it on the lab table.
"He quit." He quietly said, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "And before you ask me why did he quit?," I guess the way his tone changed was supposed to be how I sounded, "I don't know―and don't care."
Just then, the teacher walked in―an Asian man with square-cut glasses, an after-shave stubble and black, long hair that was tied back with a leather thong into a braid.
"Good morning class―my name is Dr. Chan. I'll be your new Chemistry Honors teacher for the remainder of the year―" he started his introduction with a small grin. And as he went on, I couldn't pay attention to anything but him.
It was silly to think I was getting somewhere―he was a little open―and now shut back down, with his stool stiffed all the way at the edge of the lab table.
It was times like these that I wondered if I truly did stink or offend with my smell―the OTHER him did the same thing when I first sat next to him in Biology back in Forks.
This situation brought a wry smile to my face as I glanced at him out of the corner of my eyes.
Logan Briggs otherwise known as Green Eyes or A-class asshole sat at the edge with his elbow perched on the table and head placed in the palm of his hand. He didn't glance my way at all like I kept glancing his; his eyes just stayed trained on Dr. Chan, our new chemistry teacher as he gave details about where he was from and what the Honors course would contain during the rest of the year.
"And now, since I've spent most the time we've had on our first day together bragging about myself, which my wife begs me to stop doing," some students laughed at this, "I'd like to hear about you all."
"For your first assignment of the year―an easy A―I'd like you to turn to the person next to you," anything but that. "and find out all you can about one another. For example, where they're from, their talents, likes, dislikes... the whole enchilada." Great. "because they'll be your chemistry partner for the remainder of the year." Just great.
At that announcement, the once quiet-class spiraled into a buzzing room.
I did what Dr. Chan told us to do―turn to face Logan.
He did the same, except with a scowl on his face.
I frowned back.
"... so..."
"Logan Briggs. From Sacramento, California. I like myself. And I don't like you." He said in one breath. "Finished and done."
... Ouch.
A hammer on my already broken knee.
"Isabella Marie Swan..." I trailed off, biting my bottom lip and beginning to softly chew on it. "From Forks, Washington. I like..." I glanced at him, his expression unreadable. Undetectable. Uninterested.
I stood from my seat. "Forget this."
He was mysterious. He was hot. He was cool. I can give him all of that. But he was rude. He was mean. He was an asshole. He was cocky. And bipolar. So damn bipolar.
I wasn't about to be subjected to his mutiny, though.
I couldn't be or try something new if it came in the form of him.
"I'm going right up to Dr. Chan and telling him that we can't be chemistry partners and that I'll just work by myself!"
"Well, that's fucking fine―I don't want a chemistry partner that can't even ask me what my talent is."
That stops me mid-way.
"Excuse me?" I turn around and place a hand on my hip.
Logan leans forward, the most smug smile on his face. I wanted to just smack it off.
"You didn't even ask me my talent." He cackled, flashing me a toothy grin that made his green eyes sparkle under the classroom lights.
I stood there dazed for a second―again, so damn bipolar.
Rubbing the nape of my neck, I slowly walked back to my stool and took a seat, gulping like there was a giant baseball stuck in the back of my throat.
He threw his hands up and let them fall onto the lab table. "I'm waiting, pussy cat."
So, it was pussy cat now?
Chewing my bottom lip, I looked down at my hands, stammering, "Wh-What's―your..." He raised his different shaded eyebrows; they weren't golden like his eyelashes or hair. What's... your talent?"
He leaned forward. I leaned back. As he was leaned across me, I looked up at his face. It was now only inches from mine. He looked down and caught my eyes with his, staring deeply. I gazed back but would blink every once in a while.
"My talent is..." He lowly trailed off. I think I hated his voice. It was so deep, husky and rasped out in a slow speech. I wonder if it actually sounded like that or if he did that on purpose.
"What's your talent?" I swallowed, taking up the usual habit of biting my bottom lip.
"My fucking talent is... being annoying." He then burst out laughing, shaking his head while I sat there with a confused look on my face that soon festered into utter annoyance.
"Do you talk to your mother with that mouth?!" I huffed, crossing my arms. I faced the other way not for a second, wanting to look at his smug face full of cockiness... or the highly structured lines... or smooth-talking mouth or his green eyes that were looking very emerald at the moment.
Logan let out a content sigh before puckering out his lip. "I wouldn't know, sweetheart. Didn't know my mom. And my dad high-tailed it some years ago."
"What?"
He gave me a look. "You heard me."
"... I'm-I'm sorry... I didn't know that―"
"It's straight." He waved me off. "I'm actually doing pretty good on my own. Got my own place and car and everything. So fuck a mom and fuck a dad."
I didn't know whether to say glad, we're getting somewhere since we did have to know each other or to say I'm sorry... but one thing is for sure... he did have his secrets. And I wanted to find them out.
"... Do you miss... them?"
"What?"
"You heard me." I said in a mocking tone.
Logan smirked and shrugged. "How could you miss someone that never really cared?"
"... because there's a hope that they'll one day come back." I whisper to him. Meanwhile that question is ringing in my head like a bell.
How could you miss someone that never really cared?
How could I sit here still yearning for him? Even though the nightmares and pain of him leaving or new-found fear... I still missed him. And whether he ever cared for me or not... was a serious thing that I needed to consider. And Alice... Esme... Carlisle... Emmett... Jasper... Rosalie... did they all ever care? Did they miss me? Was I really a plaything and a toy to them? A marionette controlled by strings?
"Sweetheart."
"Pussy cat."
"Bella." I snapped back into reality.
"S-Sorry... I just... blanked out for a second." I blush under his stare. "What are we doing?"
Logan rolled his eyes and pointed to the notebook in front of me.
"Dr. Chan said we need to write questions down to ask about each other or some shit like that." He reached over and flipped to a clean page. "I wasn't really paying attention―too busy trying to figure out if you were still breathing. Or if you just experienced like... your own type of high."
"Sorry." I murmur, grabbing a pen. "And... I've never smoked before―so no."
"But why don't you write down some questions and then I'll write something." I suggested, sliding the notebook over to his end. He was still stiffed over at the edge of the table, a great distance away from me.
He slid the notebook back. "You go first."
"But..." I looked down at the pen in my hand.
"Here."
He gave me an annoyed expression and snatched the pen from my hand. "If you fucking insist, pussy cat."
What about your mom and dad?
The question reads.
I look over. "Renèe and Charlie―my parents... are divorced. Have been since I was an infant. She was tired of the same old Forks. So she packed up and took me along with her." I pause to make sure he is actually listening and not just pulling on my barely-there-strings for fun. Logan's face was blank. But his green eyes would shift every second or so, to meet my gaze.
I continue with a deep breath, "I'd go visit Charlie every summer but about a year ago, I moved back with him down there. My mother remarried this rich, Mini-League baseball player named Phil and so she could travel with him... and to make that happen I left. So you may or may not be wondering what I'm doing here now..."
"And the answer to that is my dad. He actually sent me here to get away from something that was dominating my life, as you said yesterday." - "I... had it bad for this guy... and being in La Push didn't help much, either..." I trail off, biting my bottom lip.
He clicks his pen into action and scribbles,
If your mom was so tired of forks, why didn't she just get some spoons?
As my eyes read the question, I couldn't help but let out a laugh, shaking my head. Taking the notebook, I write diligently:
Are you always an asshole?
"Only when it comes to girls like you." Logan cocks his head in my direction, then reaches for the notebook and scribbles down another question. Leaving me to contemplate his words.
What were you doing in La Push?
He gently slides the notebook to me, his green eyes probing my face as I read it.
"... Visiting my friend Jacob." I tell him, noticing the change in his demeanor. I don't know why he suddenly became rigid or why his eyes hardened at the answer to his written question. "Have you ever been there?"
I eye his hands clenching and unclenching into fists, before he sort of grumbles, "... I have friends that like to visit there. Every once in a full moon."
I nod once, not deciding to give the mysteriousness of his words any thought―I doubt he'd give more detail anyways. The questions I asked could have gotten in-depth answers and all I got was half-ass responses and a minimum of seven words.
With a quick huff, I write:
Why did you ask me about La Push?
"The assignment is to ask questions right?"
I guess I couldn't argue with that one.
Why did you come up to me? Of all people at this school?
"Why did I―" I stop and give myself a moment to think. Because that was a good question―why did I choose him out of everyone that I saw that on my 'tour' of San Ramon Valley? What made him so different from the guy laying down in the grass eating a sandwich? Or the girl sitting on the steps, reading my favorite book Wuthering Heights?
What was it about Logan Briggs that made me just stop my life goal of moping around like it was nobody's business? Was it his looks? His demeanor? What could it have been?
After contemplating for too long, I uneasily retorted to the written question, "... I guess... you just looked the most approachable..."
He said nothing at that―but his face scrunched up a bit and fingers slicked back his silky, golden blonde hair. Was he expecting a better answer than that?
I lick my slightly chapped lips as I write a question I need an answer to:
Why didn't you want me to come here?
Vibrant green eyes dulled and in a monotone voice, he reprimands, "I have my reasons."
I narrowed my eyes―what reasons? What could it be? It was his turn to do the asking but I needed more answers:
Was it because you thought I was a ditzy brunette from the city that liked to fuck shit up? And am I actually that?
The corners of his mouth twitch as he hands me his notebook... as if he's trying to hold back a grin or smile... did I imagine that twitch or did it really happen?
"Ditzy city chicks thinking they can come and fuck shit up and brunettes with emotional problems such as yourself" are the terms that I used, pussy cat.
How do you know I have emotional problems? And what's up with calling me pussy cat?
You're a pussy and you have a cat. Or you have a pussy and are a cat. It can go either way, sweetheart.
A sheepish smile plastered on his face as if he just didn't write those blunt, heated and vulgar words―if they could see me now. As my cheeks tinted red and my blush spread all the way down to the nape of my neck, I grasped the pen, squeezing it tightly in my hand. Willing my fingers to write:
And what about my other question?
"Like I said yesterday―I read people like a book." He raises his dark eyebrows, green eyes mystified yet widened with each word, "You're at my local library, on a shelf all alone. Waiting for my hands to pick you up and flip to the first page―reading and soaking up each word of your life―maybe fold the corners of you that I like the most..." He fingers his hair, golden-spun locks settling slicked back on his head, "And the hope―the hope that I'll one day not only finish reading your book, but also keep you."
Taking a deep breath, I wipe that thought from my mind and write diligently:
Do I smell?
He glances at the three words formed into a question and his jaw stiffens. Slowly, Logan turns toward my direction, scribbling quickly and sliding the notebook:
Why do you think I think you smell?
I had my answer.
Because you're far away.
He looked up from the page and then looked at the space between us. I looked, too. Our eyes then meeting. I could tell he was considering the facts.
How we were supposed to be paired at one lab table, he was all the way at the edge and our form of communication was sliding his notebook back and forth down the table... which qualified the space between us as a far distance.
"Your natural scent is like strawberries and freesia." Logan shrugged. "But then there's also these hints of lavender, evergreen and water-lillies... It's a huge mixture of that."
"... You... can smell me?"
"I have a good nose. Genetics."
"... And I'm far away for a reason." He says lowly.
"What reason is that?" I ask, my curiosity at it's peak.
"So I don't get too close."
"Why don't you want to get too close?" I find myself scooting my stool towards him, in which he narrows his eyes and grits his teeth as a response.
"Because I have secrets." His eyes squinted just the slightest at the word secrets.
It was like pressing ice to a salt wound―knowing that he had secrets made me react quickly. "What are your secrets?"
He scribbles quickly:
That's for me to know and you to not find out.
My eyes flicked from the clock to the notebook as I wrote back:
Why can't I find out?
Because.
I was willing to show my scars if he'd show his, too.
I have secrets too.
They aren't be as holy as mine.
Holy secrets?
Holy? No. Criptic? Yes. So try me.
Logan narrowed his eyes:
This isn't a negotiation.
It could be one.
He stared at my will to compromise for a good five seconds before sighing, "I'll pass."
But―
Before I could finish writing, the notebook was slid from my hand and closed, then slipped into his empty backpack. The bell rang and he was out of the room faster than I could blink.
I sat in the stool, watching students disperse out the door. Eventually I grabbed my back and slung it over my shoulder. Next was Algebra II―another class I had with him.
But how could I look him in the eyes again after learning he had secrets? Secrets he wasn't willing to share, even if I exposed my own?
And here again, I thought I was getting somewhere.
A/N:
If you're wondering what's Bella's outfit or what her haircut looks like, it's the banner for the story :) how she looks for this story and the outfit she described.
Now, onto this chapter... I'm pleased with the results. Logan the Asshole is under development right now... I've thought about him and how I want this to go and to be―he's going to be an asshole that slowly brings Bella out of her shell and makes her an asshole too―JUST KIDDING.
LOGAN IS GOING TO BE A BADASS, GOLDEN BLOND WITH SEXY GREEN EYES THAT BELLA CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF, and that my readers is the truth. He will be an ass the first few chapters (1,2,3,4) but as Bella pointed out... is it a façade? And what is he hiding?
Trust me, he has his secrets.
Any thoughts on them?
Next chapter gets intense :)
Now what were your thoughts on this? On Bella's dream? Madison? Logan? And their conversation?
Don't forget to review and tell me. I know you all have opinions that should be shared :) I have a goal of 10 before the next chapter. Please help me reach it!
Thanks For Reading! And stay bold & beautiful!
Kumi-Chan/Tobi-Is-Fluffy-Chan
(Green Eyes by Wavves) 🎶