Author's Note: February 4, 2009. Hey, I'm rewriting this story. I like it better now, so review. soooooo. Uh, scooby snack for the first person to tell me who sang the version of this song in the title. And why it was related.
First Movement: Rainy Monday
The streets were grey and wet, covered in a reminder of the rainstorm from the night before. It had lasted hours, furiously raging overhead. That was almost inconceivable now to an unassuming girl walking purposefully through the puddles that morning. It was a beautiful day, completely contrasting the previous night. Behind her, she tugged a green rolling suitcase, faded with use.
She hummed softly to an unrecognizable tune and continued down the street, turning around a corner and, consequentially into the view of a pair of ever-shifting, watchful eyes. They blinked, and then turned an almost imperceptible shade darker.
As she passed around the corner of another building, the song on her music player changed. She hummed a note of pleasure and quietly sang along. She was minutely aware of the feeling of eyes on her, but this fact didn't seem to come to her immediate attention. Forgetting for a moment her complete lack of balance and poise, she twirled gracelessly when she thought she was unseen.
As expected, her boot caught on the uneven pavement. She sighed in resignation as her arms flew out to catch her fall. Instead of the rough texture of cement she was expecting, she felt cool arms wrap around her waist. She swallowed nervously as she was righted and spun around.
"Sorry," she murmured and attempted to back away from her savior. He was staring at her with an unparalleled hunger and anger in his eyes, black as coal. His arms had yet to let her go, and she felt his body stiffen under her grip.
He smiled stiffly and released her quickly. She couldn't quite tell, but he looked as if he wasn't breathing at all. She tried to shake it off as he walked away at a fast pace, fists clenched at his sides.
"Thank you," She breathed at his departing back, and he hesitated minutely. He was quite far away, but she knew he had heard her. His back still turned, he whispered back. "You're quite welcome."
She stood a moment longer, mind in a slight daze. Cautiously, she looked down at her clothes, then lifted her hair to her nose. She didn't think she smelled bad, and could only smell the scent of her favorite strawberry shampoo. With a shrug that didn't quite put the enigma out of her mind, she continued in the direction she had been headed before the interruption.
He walked behind her, doubling back far enough so that she wouldn't suspect him. He smiled at the uncharacteristic show of friendliness before, but then the corners of his mouth turned down at his reaction to her. In his complete existence, he had never come across a human whose scent was more appealing to him. He felt disgusted with himself, and resolved to hunt as soon as he possibly could. It was probably his unintended fast that was making him want her more. Maybe he had gone too long.
As she passed out of sight, he took the chance to consider his next move. It seemed certain that she would be attending the same camp. However, it was thankfully a large camp, so the possibility of them running into each other (Quite Literally, he chuckled to himself,) was limited. He just wondered why her face seemed so familiar to him. He was sure he wouldn't be able to forget encountering such an enigma before. It was then that it occurred to him. Her mind was completely blank. That was something he had never encountered before. And the unknown was frightening for him.
He moved silently toward the office she had just entered, towing his grey suitcase behind him.
"...room 137 Miss Swan, you will be staying with.." The brown haired girl, Miss Swan he mused, held up one hand, cutting the woman off politely.
"Mrs. Cope," she interjected quietly, her warm voice sending a chill down his spine. "I was wondering if I could get my own room? I'm a bit of an Insomniac and I wouldn't want my nighttime activities to prevent the rest of those unfortunate enough to room with me."
He smiled at the irony as the woman shook her head sadly. He too was an insomniac, but for an entirely different reason, of that he was sure. His quiet chuckle caused the girl to snap her head around with a glare. He was struck then by her beauty, and again by the overpowering scent of her blood.
Oh Lord, his mind reeled as he breathed in the beautiful aroma heightened by being in such a small space with her.
His mind snapped down, keened by years of training, to ignore the scent that made the venom rise to his mouth. His brow furrowed then, confused by the reaction he had once more. This time, he could also smell the weak blood of Mrs. Cope, but this was almost completely eclipsed by the wonderful scent of Miss Swan. He'd have to call Carlisle, and also make a fast escape.
He eyed the blood pumping in her pale neck. Her heartbeat was racing quite unexpectedly, making the problem escalate. He wondered if he was glaring at her, and forced his face into a cool mask.
What is Different about her? He asked himself and looked back down on her.
She was staring at him, entranced by the color of his eyes. That black just didn't seem naturally possible, and she wondered if he was wearing contacts. Strange color, she mused. She shook her head and blushed when she noticed that she was staring.
"Sorry," She murmured again, drawing a strained chuckle from him. The flush on her cheeks was making it that much tougher for him. She glared upwards towards his face.
Stunned for a moment, he let himself say the words that were floating on the surface of his mind. "You have mentioned that you were sorry twice now." He commented in a musical voice that made her breath catch.
She felt glaringly plain standing in front of him. Her grey blouse and dark jeans were slightly wrinkled from her plane ride and her hair hung loosely around her face. In comparison to her, he looked beautiful, with copper hair and a white shirt and snug jeans that off a toned, but still slight physique.
Mrs. Cope cleared her throat impatiently and held out a packet of papers to a now mortified and blushing girl. He stomped down the monster inside himself that was telling him to attack her and drain her blood as he watched her blush darken.
"Bella dear, I hope you enjoy your two weeks at camp," said Mrs. Cope in a weary voice. 'Course, who wouldn't enjoy it with this sex-god staring at them as if they were something to eat. Her thoughts were slightly horrifying, and he wondered if it was that obvious how he saw the young Miss Swan. Of course, no one would believe it was her blood he lusted after.
"Bella," he breathed, so quietly that neither of them could hear. Bella nodded to him as she walked out of the small room. It was a relief and a bit of a disappointment to him as he was left with the weak blood and simple mind of the aging secretary.
"Back again Mr. Cullen?" Mrs. Cope smiled coyly as she handed him his own packet of papers.
She had seen the look on his face as he studied Miss Swan. She was jealous of the girl for being so lovely, but she knew that it was completely impossible for Edward, or any of the Cullens for that matter, to take an interest in her.
Maybe now he'll find a little Miss someone special though, Her mind laughed. He must be so lonely living in that house where all his siblings are shacked up. He forced a smile as he looked back at her.
"It's just Edward, Mrs. Cope. And might I say, you look lovely today." he said stiffly, drawing a girlish giggle from the older woman who took no notice of the tone.
"You're in the same building as her," she whispered conspiratorially as he took the papers and headed towards the door. He paused, looking back at her.
"I'll keep that in mind."
