It seemed that after those first two days, the pleasantries of my courses were over, and the workload intensified severely. I almost felt like I was drowning in studies as the week progressed, something that Jessica assured me only happened for the first week or two.
"They're just trying to see what you're made of," she kept repeating every now and again.
What was I made of? Endless exhaustion it felt like, and it was of little assistance that all I could do Wednesday was to wait for it to be Thursday, so that I could again see Edward in biology. I ridiculed myself about the preposterousness of it all. But when Thursday finally did roll around, it was much the same as it had been in the previous class.
Upon sitting down next to Angela, I couldn't help but glance toward Edward, ready to avert my gaze if necessary. When my eyes found him though, he was looking nowhere near me, steadily scanning the room almost as if he were trying to figure out some puzzle that the students filing in had presented him. His attire was significantly more casual today, yet his presence still dominated the auditorium. A female student interrupted his wandering eye to hand him some sort of paperwork. He smiled down at her from the stage and as she turned her back on him I could see her overwhelmed expression. She began fanning herself with her binder on the way back to her seat, clearly titillated. His powers, while amusing when not being directed at myself, were still absurdly unfair. Of one thing I was certain, having read the atmosphere in the auditorium. Every girl in the room wanted to be with him, and every guy in the room wanted to be him.
His eyes absently returned to scanning the room, much closer to me this time, so I looked down again, pretending to read whatever was on the page I had randomly flipped to in my trigonometry textbook. As if I could absorb anything about mathematics when my mind was thus distracted. After a few minutes I risked a peek back up towards him. He was looking directly at me, smiling warmly, contently. The look of inexplicable satisfaction had returned, and he nodded in my direction. My heart seemed to begin beating erratically as I attempted to return his smooth and subtle gesture, only I imagined that my nod certainly looked significantly more clumsy and awkward than his.
Class began much the same as it had formerly. Roll call was first, although this time he did call me by my preferred name of Bella, a gesture which earned me a curious look from Angela, though I knew she would be too polite to inquire about it. Bless her.
Class then continued much as it had the last time, with me trying not to look at Edward except when necessary, and failing on numerous occasions, and just as before, he caught me multiple times. Also just as before, there were several instances when I found him glancing in my direction, only to quickly avert his gaze at my noticing.
Today Professor Banner was lecturing on the proper use of laboratory equipment, and had brought in samples of all of the different equipment we would be using. He had instructed us that in a few moments we would all be proceeding to the stage to have some hands-on practice with the equipment. Before we could use it in the lab he wanted us to be signed off on the proper usage of the teaching models. This was a far from ideal scenario for me. Not only would I be handling delicate lab equipment, which given my natural tendency toward clumsiness was never a good idea, but I was aware that I would be watched by Edward as I did so.
The first few examinations went swimmingly, as they were all done under Professor Banner's supervision. Microscopes, beakers, and what not, all rather brief visual checks. I was intentionally stalling on the scalpel station, where we would be showing proper holding technique, then proceeding to make a clean cut down a block of cheese. I was primarily avoiding this station for two reasons. Firstly, the idea of myself wielding a weapon, no matter the size, seemed an irresponsible thing to me. The possibility of me accidentally injuring myself or someone around me seemed dangerously high. And secondly, to exacerbate the issue further, it was the station that Edward was overseeing.
Upon running out of other activities to perform, I begrudgingly placed myself in line for my turn with the scalpels. I briefly considered whether or not it would be possible to forge Edward's initials on my piece of paper and simply turn it in, but since it was the only station he was overseeing it seemed likely he would notice my absence.
Once Angela had finished her work with the scalpel with nearly expert precision, she turned to give me a small smile of encouragement before walking away to present her form to Professor Banner. This left me alone at the scalpel station, only a few feet away from Edward, who sat grinning at my approach. His handsomeness was almost too much to bare, even in his far more casual attire. A patterned button up shirt, with the sleeves rolled to midway up his perfectly crafted forearms, exposing them as he leaned backwards in his chair, with his hands crossed behind his head. The top button on his shirt was undone, exposing the bare skin over the ridges of his throat and collar bones. I had to prevent myself from staring at him, and so, I looked towards the table on which the scalpels were placed. I was much more likely to lose a finger if I continued to be distracted by him. Even looking away from him did not entirely assuage my fear of dropping the scalpel onto myself, gouging myself or possibly losing a toe. I supposed I could still manage worse. I could accidentally stab Edward. I supposed that stabbing him would likely nullify his apology to me. The thought of it made me feel queasy.
I grasped the scalpel carefully, as though I were handling a weapon of mass destruction, grasping it with extreme caution between three fingers and holding as far from my body as my arm allowed. I could see Edward smiling at me comically out of my periphery.
"I doubt you could hurt a stick of melted butter holding it that way," he chuckled at me. I turned to scowl at him, but my scowl didn't stick as his jovial expression melted my aggravation effortlessly. Never had I been so close to him, and his eyes shone even more wildly looking up at me from such proximity. His bronze hair seemed to gleam with an almost metallic luster beneath the incandescent lighting.
"Perhaps as the teacher you could make a correction as opposed to simply laughing at me," I suggested. He sighed and his smirk quickly gave way to a warmer more sincere grin. The perfect arch of his eyebrow cocked upwards as he looked at me intently.
"May I?" he asked softly. I was so stunned, absorbing this new expression of his that he didn't wait for my response. He stood swiftly from his chair and for the first time I noticed by our proximity that he towered nearly a foot above me. I barely had time to archive this new discovery for later study before he had closed the few feet of space between himself and I, watching me intently the whole way as he did.
"The key," he began still watching me, "Is to hold your hand closer to the blade." His eyes moved down to my hands still barely holding the scalpel. I looked down at them as well. Cautiously his hand reached for mine, the one in which I held the small weapon. Reflexively I flinched away from him.
He looked back towards me, his eyes asking for permission, his face merely inches from my own. My expression quickly gave him the permission he sought, and he looked back down toward our hands. My gaze followed his, and I braced myself for catastrophe. My heart was beating in my ears.
He was deliberate in his approach, as he slowly placed his hand around mine. At the touch of his incredibly soft skin I experienced the most bizarre sensation, as though a humming electric current had suddenly arced between us, lingering warmly under his sustained touch. His eyes flashed inquisitively, yet very briefly to my face before looking back down at our hands, as though perhaps he too felt the electric bond between our flesh. I was certain he could also likely feel my pulse racing through my fingertips as my heart pounded wildly.
"Holding the blade lower gives you greater control –," he continued slowly in his smooth, soothing voice, as he moved our hands over to the cheese block. The strength of his hands was tremendous, and yet he held me as delicately as though I were made of flower petals. His other hand moved toward my forearm, gripping it lightly as he shifted his body closer to me to prepare for his cut on the block. My heart raced faster as I felt the loose front of his shirt against me, leaving such minimal distance between our bodies. His powerful arms guided my hand, and consequently the blade, through the cheese with perfect precision.
"– gives you greater – accuracy," he finished. As we completed the cut, his eyes slowly moved up the length of my arm towards my face, again drawing my gaze towards them and locking my stare in place. His eyes roamed across the features of my face, my cheeks, my forehead, my lips, and I could feel the humming electricity pulsing through the small space between our bodies, warmth moving through our hands. I realized that at some point in the past seconds my breathing had stopped and I inhaled a deep breath through my nose. It was a maddening mistake, as his incredible scent filled my head, musky and woodsy, like damp earth and cedar. It almost smelled like the pine forests of Washington. I simply could not get enough of it, enough of his face, of my pounding heart, of the way his eyes gazed into mine.
He suddenly looked down shaking his head slightly, as though trying to dispel an unpleasant daydream, and released my hand and arm from his grip, and took a step back from me. Shaking his head briefly again he picked up my paper.
"Very good Ms. Swan. That will do." He said, curtly, his voice rough, still staring at my paper, and making no move to look back in my direction. I grabbed the paper the instant he presented it to me, turning abruptly to hand it in to Professor Banner, and proceeded out the back door of the auditorium, glancing briefly over my shoulder to see Edward staring towards the ceiling, his hands covering his face, as if he were gripped with frustration.
Me and Angela walked silently back to our dormitories. She didn't seem to mind that I was incapable of coherent conversation. She had apparently not noticed any of mine and Edward's interaction. I felt that was for the better.
I was more or less absent minded in the group throughout the night, barely noticing Mike's attempts to speak with me more. He seemed disheartened by my lack of interest, something I did feel a certain level of remorse about. Not enough to pull me back to the present, but a certain measure nonetheless. What had happened in class? What was the strange electric energy that moved between us? Had he noticed it as well, or was I simply being a naïve fool for dreaming that he too had felt such a power? I knew nothing of him. Nothing of his life. I knew he couldn't be married, for his finger bore no ring when my hand was in his, but that did not declare him as being available. Nobody who had that measure of charm, grace, and flawless beauty could possibly be available, and sadly even if he were, I was sufficiently doubtful that it would improve my chances of ever gaining audience with him about it. I concluded that it would simply make matters more unbearable if he were single. Nevertheless my curiosity got the better of me that evening after Jessica and I had returned to our room, and at the first possible chance where the conversation would sound natural, I interjected with my questions.
"So – What is Edward's deal?" I asked Jess casually.
"Edward... Edward Cullen?" she asked, puzzled. I supposed it was uncommon for students to refer to him by his first name. I would do well to remember it.
"Yes…" I hesitantly replied. She seemed not to notice my reluctance.
"As far as anyone knows he's totally single, although how a hunk like him could possibly be single I'll never understand. He probably has some secret supermodel girlfriend. Then again, last year in biology he was awfully nice to me. I bet he wanted to ask me out and just couldn't," she rambled. The last part of it caught my ear.
"Couldn't?" I inquired. "Why couldn't he?"
"Well he's a TA," She said like it should be obvious. "He can't date his students. Duh?" she continued rolling her eyes dramatically when my face expressed that it was not obvious what she was saying.
"Then again," she continued, "I'm not his student anymore am I! I hope I run into him at the spirit splash. Oh my god wouldn't it be so great if he finally asked me out?" She practically screamed at me bouncing up and down on her bed with her hands clenched in excited fists.
"Sorry again. The what?" I asked cocking an eyebrow.
"The spirit splash? Really Bella do you live under a rock?" I didn't respond so she continued. "It's this big celebration where there are prize booths and free food, and a gigantic water balloon fight to top it all off! They even let you use super soakers! I can't believe you don't know about it. It's one of Lakefront's biggest traditions. All of the students go! Even the grad students – Like Edward," her enunciation was like that of a ten year old girl pronouncing the name of her crush.
Still her revelation did get me thinking, and the entire spirit splash event did sound like a good opportunity to meet some new friends, perhaps find others like Angela whom I could surround myself with. That was the part of Jessica's speech the excited me. The other part felt rather devastating at the moment. I almost felt as though something were lodged in my throat. Even if Edward was a single man, and did for some unknown bizarre reason actually find me attractive, he still was not allowed to be with me. I was his student. And he, for all intents and purposes, was my teacher. I would have to find a way to coexist here with Edward, in a manner that didn't permit any of my wildly out of control inclinations for him to present themselves. I didn't want him in trouble, and more pertinent to the situation, I did not want to embarrass myself when he rejected me. It seemed that in the grand design of the universe, his sphere of existence, and my sphere of existence, were two bubbles that did not in any way overlap. And yet, for some unknown reason, they had. As I drifted to sleep that night, I couldn't stop my mind from washing over it time and time again. It seemed to me that even though I likely couldn't see the answer from my vantage point, this was far greater than simply a comical coincidence. For the time I pushed the thought aside and contented to drift away into unconsciousness, feeling the remnant of humming electricity. That was the first night I dreamt of Edward Cullen.
