Cinderbella
Author's Note- I don't own anything! Get that through your head! Anyways. . .
Chapter 2- Open Book
BPOV
"Hello," I whispered, completely captivated by his eyes. They were an unusual butterscotch color, maybe slightly darker, but with the same shimmer. He was staring at me, his face unreadable. It seemed as if he was trying to figure out some odd question that he had never thought he would ever encounter. But what was so unusual or remarkable about me? I was only a girl. He was much different than me, in more than just eye color, but the dark circles under his eyes, as if suffering from sleep deprivation. Though, he looked as if he was alert as ever. Also, his skin color was remarkable. It was white, pale white. And his touch, he was so. . . cold, though it was mid- June. When he touched me, it was as if it felt so cold, it was immidiately warm when he pulled away. I longed for his touch again after my long wait; had it really only been minutes ago? Thinking all this, I almost forgot that I was still in his midst. I tried speaking again, a little more pronounced this time.
"Hello," I said. My voice was ridged, shaken, as if I had been confronted with a monster, one I had come to fear and long for all the same, but was too overtaken by the longing sensation so much so that I couldn't run in fear.
That's when I realized it. . .
not only did I long for love. . .
i feared it.
He didn't respond, just continued to stare at me.
I bent over to pick up the items I had dropped, and I tried to avert my eyes, though from the corner of my eye, I saw him shake his head, as if waking from his daydream. He spoke then.
"Here, let me help you," he spoke. I almost froze after hearing his voice. It was calm, controlled, steady, and yet, at the same time, warm and smooth, like velvet. It was gorgious, like the rest of him.
"Thank you," I said, so surprised at the sound of his voice that it caused my voice to crack. I blushed, turning insanely red. What am I doing? It's raining, I'm dripping wet, carrying tons of boxes, and insanely impressed and scared of this gorgious young man. Impressed because he, unlike every one else in my life, treated me with respect, though I knew he knew I was only a filthey stepdaughter who earned the respect of a packmule, which is exactly how I appeared today. I was scared because I had become majorly vonerable in seconds. I was hurt enough, and I don't think I could take any more pain.
"So, how does a mistress such as yourself end up with so many items?" he asked. He acted as if these were mine even though I was fairly certain he saw my Stepmother and sisters calling after me.
"Well, number one, I'm no mistress, and two, these aren't mine." He stared at me as if waiting for me to finish. "They're my Stepmother's," I explained. He nodded as if understanding the situation, though I'm sure he didn't. By this time, I had retrieved my, well, my stepmother's, items with the exception of half my items, which lay in his arms. That's when I noticed- his muscles seemed so toned, perfect, as if carved into a sculpture of pure marble. I looked once again at his face, instantly regreting it. His eyes were locked on mine, smoldering and pouring into mine, causing me to melt. My knees started to shake and it took all my will power to stop them. He pulled he flawless lips into an unusual yet the most beautiful crooked smile I had ever seen. I almost fainted right then and there. We stood there for what felt like hours, though it was only moments, and it ended all too quickly. He turned to stand next to me and started walking along side me. I matched his pace easily, though it seemed as if he was only going slow for me, as if being pacient, as if he could go much faster.
"So," he said, obviously trying to fill the silence with conversation, "how come such a lady such as yourself is not frollicking with her loved one as so many others today have?" He kept his eyes forward, though he sounded so intrieged, as if he was interested in if I had a loved one, as if it made him hopeful, but for what. . .
EPOV
I must have sounded hopeful, and I silently cursed at myself for blurting out that question. Now she must know I'm interested, but why wouldn't I be? She's beautiful . . . and warm. . . and. . . soft, oh, so soft. . . I had to use most of my will power not to reach over and take her hand. She was gorgious, and her eyes looked at me, pondering. . . I was guessing over the answer to my stupid question. I started to ammend.
"I'm sorry, if it made you uncomfortable. I-"
"It's fine, I'll answer. I don't have a lover, never have, and. . ."
"And what?" I pushed.
"Never will?" She sounded hesitant, thus framing as a question.
"Now, my dear," she looked up at me when I spoke this," you shouldn't believe that. Love. . . well, it's. . . it's uncontrolible and unpredictable and-"
"Irrational?" She smiled.
"Yes, and your day will come, if it hasn't already," I said. I smiled as she did at me. We were almost to the hatshop, where her stepfamily shopped. I had about time for one more question.
"May I ask something more?"
"You just did, but yes, if I may ask one in return," she smiled.
"What is your name?"
Her face turned bright red, the most beautiful blush I had ever witnessed, before she answered.
"Isabella."
"That's an unusual name; Do prefer it shortened? Such as Isa? Or-"
"Bella? Yes, indeed. Bella is my name I am normally called, and I prefer it as well."
Bella.
Bella.
Bella.
It had to be the most beautiful name in the world, but it suited well- the most beautiful name for the most beautiful girl.
"Bella! Bella!" a woman called from the store door. She looked at me for a moment, then scolded at her. "Bella! You know you aren't supposed to speak to strangers." Then she thought to herself, no matter how young and. . . fine he is. . .
She gestured to come in, hasty. Bella turned to me, appologetic, and started to grab things from my hands, and I heard her whisper, out of her stepmother's hearing.
"Thank you. . . your majesty."
When she pulled away, my eyes were wide with surprise as someone who recognised me. She smiled at me, and her eyes showed no intent of telling anyone of my visit here in the market place. I smiled back, composing my features, and before she set off into the store, I saw in her eyes a hint of pain, as if it pained her of leaving.
And she was gone.
I was smiling, listening to her name inside my head, when I figured it out.
Maybe it wasn't impossible. For me to fall in love. I mean, impossible things were happening everyday.
Maybe it was possible.
Maybe. . .
just maybe