Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer, not me.
The next few weeks were… interesting I guess. At least they were different, a welcome change from the monotony of my routine. I saw him regularly in the lecture room three days a week. I got a weird sense of satisfaction every time he chose to yet again sit at the front instead of the more popular back rows. I guess we were both taking two of the same classes which meant I got to be in the same lecture room as him for two hours every Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. It made me pathetically happy that I got to see him on a regular basis rather than get a random glimpse of him every now and again. It made me feel like perhaps he was a part of my life and I his. I was sure it meant nothing to him – if I didn't show up every Monday, what would it be to him? One less passer-by as he went along his way. I was the equivalent of a piece of barely familiar furniture, a building he passed every morning on his way, but it was… something. It meant something to me and I would enjoy it while it lasted.
Something I would never do again however was follow him when he started walking back to the dorms. Even though I wasn't technically following him – I was just walking back too, right? – it felt too much like I was stalking him. I knew I wasn't doing him any harm. He had no idea what the freaky girl who sat behind him was thinking. And if I was being honest, it wasn't really "him" I was obsessing over anyway. I didn't know him at all. He was just a convenient empty vessel for my fantasies.
I didn't want to become too obsessed with him, but I also didn't want to stop thinking about him. So I tried to find some middle ground. I would steal peeks at the back of his head and his fingers (which more often than not continued to be ink-stained, a fact that always put a ridiculous smirk on my face), but when the lecture ended I would dawdle and go to the bathroom before I left the building so that I wouldn't be tempted again like that first day. I had to draw the line somewhere.
That Monday, I walked in just as the professor started talking and glanced towards where he usually sat. He was there but… he was whispering to the person sitting next to him. It wasn't the girl from that first day, but it was obvious the blonde guy sitting next to him was his friend. I should not have been so shocked. Of course he had friends who wanted to sit with him – even at the front. I froze for a moment trying to decide whether I should still sit behind him. Did I really want to spend the entire lecture watching him be happy, laughing and joking with his friend and complaining about how much work the professors gave us like a perfectly normal student? I was just about to spin around and run away with my tail between my legs when I realized the professor was looking at me. I mumbled a "sorry" and took my seat lamely, keeping my head down and pretending to take notes. At least he and his friend stopped talking then and turned their full attention to the professor. I felt incredibly grateful that he wasn't going to torture me too much today.
Things slowly solidified into a semi-routine after that. I would sit behind him as usual and we would both quietly make notes on the lecture. Occasionally his friend would join him, but they never talked very much and when they did, I couldn't really make out their whispers. I never saw him on Thursdays and Fridays or on the weekend and most of the time it was really tough to keep the dream going until the following Monday.
I had long ago figured out what my problem was – I could rationalize away every good thing in my life. If someone was friendly towards me, I didn't need more than ten minutes to convince myself I had misinterpreted everything and they were just being polite or felt sorry for me. I was always surprised when someone remembered me – even when only a few weeks had passed since we had met. So by the end of each weekend, I usually managed to convince myself that I had imagined him altogether and that there would be no one sitting in front of me the following Monday.
But he was there every Monday, every Tuesday and every Wednesday. He never missed a single lecture and I was always immensely relieved to see him. I tried to stay positive Thursday through Sunday, but it was still hard sometimes.
One Friday, it was especially difficult to not let my brain lead me down that familiar, well-trodden path. I felt like I was slowly driving myself crazy. Looking for a distraction, I gathered my books and headed to the library. Professor Banner had given us an essay to do last week and we were supposed to get it to him by noon on Saturday. Most of the students had made a fuss about having things due on the weekend, but they should have known better. Weekends and public holidays don't mean much to the professors.
I got to the college library at about 5 pm. It was fairly empty – there was probably only about five of us. Not many people like spending their Fridays in the library. I sat down on one of the big empty tables in the middle. I liked being able to spread out all my textbooks and papers. After slowly taking all my stuff out and arranging it neatly in front of me, I finally tried to start writing the assignment. It was incredibly difficult and despite the fact that I had done most of the reading, I had no idea whether I was doing it correctly.
By 8 pm, I still had made no progress whatsoever and the library was completely empty now. I threw my pen down in utter frustration, ready to admit defeat, hiding my face in my hands. Of course I couldn't write the essay. I'm too damn stupid for this university. I never knew what I was doing – why would it be any different in relation to my studies?
"Banner's essay?" An amused voice kicked me out of my self-deprecating thoughts before I could really get into them, and I jumped in my seat.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." He sounded like he was trying to hold in his laughter.
Then you shouldn't sneak up on people, moron. I was annoyed with the entire universe right now, kicking me when I'm down – really? As if I wasn't doing a good enough job of that on my own.
I looked up at the universe's messenger, fully intending to take out my horrible day on him. Only in my head of course. I would never have the guts to do more than glare at him mildly in real life.
It was him. Late boy. Edward.
I had never gotten a good look at his face and I was completely devastated when that finally changed. He was good-looking, as predicted of course. I hadn't expected anything else and that wasn't a problem for me at all. I'd seen plenty of good-looking guys, but they were never very appealing to me, mainly because I'd also seen all of them drunk and throwing up somewhere. His obvious good looks were not the problem. They wouldn't torture me late at night. His deep green eyes would though. He was looking at me so intensely I was afraid he already knew all my pathetic little secrets. Worse still, even though he was obviously amused at my reaction, there was something else in his eyes. He looked tired. The kind of tired that sleep can't get rid of. Now that – that look in his eyes would torture me for many nights. It was just another thing to add to his messy hair and ink-stained fingers.
Realizing he was probably waiting for me to say something, I pushed down the now familiar fear I felt when people unexpectedly spoke to me and mumbled "It's fine, don't worry about it." I immediately looked back down at my disastrous essay attempt. I saw him taking a seat opposite me from the corner of my eye.
"So, um… is it Banner's essay getting you down?" His voice sounded so smooth. No annoying accent. It was soothing and understanding, a lullaby voice. Great. Another thing to keep me up at night.
I desperately tried to decide whether I should play along and give the usual pre-approved responses to his questions or whether I should try to be honest. Play along. Definitely. That was much safer. Honesty would just confirm how much of a freak I was and bring the conversation to a screeching halt much faster. But if I lied to him and treated him like I did everyone else, then that would kill the fantasy that he was different, that I could have some kind of connection with him someday. That would hurt. A lot. And I had grown strangely dependent on the feeling I got when I stared at the back of his head during lectures. So I decided to try to steer a course somewhere between the two; to straddle the line between reality and fantasy. If I were really honest with myself, that was a very fitting choice. Hell, it was practically inevitable. It was exactly what I always did, in every part of my life.
"Um yeah, it's ridiculously difficult. I have no idea what the answer is." No need to tell him that wasn't the only reason I felt so frustrated tonight.
"I know what you mean. I've been trying to figure it out all day. Finally I gave up and called my brother."
"Oh?" I replied distractedly, trying to figure out how little eye-contact I could get away with and still appear mildly polite.
He seemed encouraged by my minimalist response because he carried on talking, the words spilling out in a rush.
"Yes, he took Banner's course last year. He said there's an article that Banner never puts on the reading list that covers exactly the same ground and basically spells out the answer for you. That's why I'm here; I'm desperate enough to give it a try. I'm just going to go see if I can find it, all right?"
I nodded and he walked away towards the stacks of books, looking for this miracle article. That left me alone, trying desperately to calm myself down and staring at his shoulder bag. I liked that it looked worn in. Really used.
Far too soon for my liking, he was back in his seat opposite me, skim reading the book he had retrieved.
"Found it. I'll let you know if it's helpful at all," he said, offering me a crooked smile. Christ. Even his smile was different from theirs.
I tried not to let the annoyance seep into my voice. "Good. Thanks," I offered in return, as he started reading and making notes while I tried desperately not to stare at him.
I was rereading the essay question for the fifteenth time when he finally spoke again.
"My brother was right. This explains everything. Here." He offered me the book and I took it from him with what I hoped was a grateful smile. It took a while for the article to start sinking in because I was too distracted by the fact that he had just been reading the same thing. That thought made me smile quietly. How pathetic.
Edward misinterpreted my smile. "It helps, right?"
"Yes, it's great. Thanks so much." Of course I had no idea whether it was actually helpful or not at that point. Eventually the words started to make sense though and he was right. It was exactly what I needed to answer the question.
We sat there for the next hour and a half, writing our essays. Occasionally he would ask me about a particular point and we would discuss it. This was good. As long as he kept asking about the work I had no problem being quasi-confident and talking with him.
We finished at the same time and both started packing up our stuff. I hesitated, trying to think of an excuse to let him leave first so he wouldn't get a chance to ask me anything too personal I didn't want to answer, but it was too late for that. It would be completely rude, especially after he had just saved me by sharing that article. So I lamely packed up my stuff and followed him out of the building and into the cool night air.
"I'm Edward. I didn't get a chance to introduce myself earlier," he said, offering me his hand to shake.
I already knew that of course, but nodded along anyway. "Bella," I replied, shaking his hand as quickly as possible. His fingers were much warmer than mine and it felt really nice. I tried not to think about how long it had been since I had touched someone other than my family. I tried to keep my distance even from my "friends". The whole hugging thing just made me feel too uncomfortable.
"Nice to meet you, Bella. Are you heading back to your dorm room now? Where do you live?" He kept smiling crookedly at me. It was reassuring and it calmed my nerves enough so I could reply. We didn't live in the same building. His was closer to the library, but they were both in the same direction, so we started walking together.
"So, are you enjoying your time at Dartmouth?" After talking about where we lived, he had started going through the usual small talk questions. I tried to be as honest as possible in my responses without giving too much away.
"Classes are really interesting. It's much better than high school." I tried to keep him away from any questions about the social side of life at college.
"Yes, I'm really enjoying classes too, even though I find some of them more difficult than I would like. I've never had so much homework, though, and that can make balancing a social life really difficult."
"I'm sure it can." I wouldn't know.
Luckily, we reached his building quickly and he didn't get a chance to continue the interrogation. I turned to him immediately, ready to scurry back to my room. I had it all to myself so at least I was safe there. "Well, thanks again for the article, Edward. Goodnight."
He looked a little taken aback. "Of course. I'll see you around?"
It sounded more like a question than a goodbye. "Sure. Bye," I mumbled out and started walking away quickly. I tried really hard not to look back and for once, I succeeded.
After about a minute, I slowed down and started to make my way back to my room at a more leisurely pace with a small smile on my face. However, I hadn't been walking for more than two minutes before my brain got to work wiping that smile off my face.
What did I just do? Am I freaking insane talking to him? He probably thinks I'm a total psycho now, following him out of the library like that and walking back with him to his room.
He had seemed friendly, but we had stayed safely within the boundaries of academic discussion only. He probably thought I was really rude for being so curt in my responses. He did ask if he could see me around though… surely that meant… No, he was just being polite. He's obviously a nice guy. He's not going to tell you he never wants to see you again to your face.
How was I supposed to react the next time I did see him around? Should I say hi or just go back to staring at the back of his head? Did he recognize me as the girl he sat in front of every week? Would he think I was stalking him? Would he complain to his friends about the freaky girl he can't seem to ditch?
Then another very disconcerting thought pushed its way to the forefront. Why did I care so much what he thought of me? I never cared what people thought. Okay, that was a bit of a lie I guess, but over the years I had taught myself to care much less and I was able to push away thoughts like the ones I had just been having fairly quickly and get back to whatever I was doing. But for some reason, I couldn't push them away this time. I really cared. When had that happened? I hoped, at the very least, that he was just the one exception to the rule and that he hadn't pushed me back to square one with everyone else as well. If I had to worry about their opinions of me on top of everything else too, I don't think I'd be able to hold on to what was left of my sanity for long.
I finally realized just how dangerous my obsession with him could be. It wouldn't just hurt at the end that he was just like them or that he didn't like me. It could completely unravel what little progress I had managed to make. I couldn't let that happen. By the time Monday came around, I easily managed to convince myself that he had just been nice because we had both been in the library at the same time and that he had probably completely forgotten who I was. I was sure that even if I continued to sit behind him he wouldn't recognize me.
The next Monday, however, he threw me a quick smile as he took his usual seat in front of me. I hoped he had turned around quickly enough to miss the look of pure panic and shock that had overtaken my features. It took me about twenty minutes just to get the fear in my stomach to calm down a little. This was the feeling I hated the most. That fear and doubt that likes to set up camp in your heart after it rearranges your insides.
By the time the lecture was coming to a close, I still had no idea what to do. Should I smile at him as I left? Or say something? I was completely terrified so I did the only thing I could. Hide.
As soon as the lecture finished I flew from my seat and went to ask the professor a question. I pretended to be interested in the last point he had made (the only one I had actually heard) and he kept babbling long enough that by the time I turned to leave, the entire lecture room was empty. Phew.
Of course, this was just a temporary solution. I was sure I could come up with many creative ways to ignore him. I was sure I wouldn't need to keep it up for very long before he lost interest and forgot about me. At the same time though, I really did want to keep talking to him. Maybe even get to know him a little. Was it possible that he'd ever want to be my friend? What if he didn't and I just kept humiliating myself over and over while he laughed about me behind my back? Or worse, what if we did become friends but I had to pretend around him too?
I had absolutely no idea what he was thinking. Then I realized how stupid I was being. He wasn't thinking anything. There was no way he was thinking about me or deciding whether he wanted to be friends. He was just being polite again this morning when he smiled at me. There was nothing for me to worry over because there was no way that he would do anything more than acknowledge me politely or make small talk when we happened to be in the same place. And surely I could handle that. I wasn't going to let him push me back into being that scared little girl, hiding from everyone. I would stay calm and treat him like everybody else. If he talked to me, I'd talk back. I wouldn't avoid him but neither would I seek him out.
That was my plan and I was going to stick to it.
A/N: Just want to warn anyone who made it past these first three chapters, that things develop slowly. This is my first fanfic and I want to take my time. I also hate love triangles/misunderstandings so I prefer to spend more time getting them together rather than getting them together quickly and then finding some way to break them up for a while.
Thank you to Jennifer for the kind review.