A/N: I'm sad. I got used to the Eyes Turned Skyward review blitz. Oh well. I guess I'm back to slowly building up my readership again. For those of you who are new to my neuroses, I'm obsessed with reviews. The personal messages are lovely, but I thrive on reviews. My theory is that the more reviews I get, the more people will read me... because I only tend to read fanfics with a lot of reviews. So, there you have it. Again, I'm deeply grateful for all the personal messages, but review me, too, dammit.

So... Edward is back, and I'm not sure how this is going to go. Incidentally, my EPOV is somewhat stalled out. I've written the second chapter about six times, and it keeps not going well, so you'll have to be patient with me. Nothing like pimping one story in the a/n for another. If Edward and Bella don't chat it up in this chapter, please forgive. Edward ran away and Bella moved on, so I don't know how they're going to deal with each other quite yet.

Enough rambling. I don't own these characters, though I totally p0wn these characters. On with the show...

Chapter Three

It's funny how normal normal can feel. The first two periods of the day blew by me as though I had never left and I fell into the same staring-off-into-space pattern that I always did, letting my mind wander as my new teachers bored me into a coma. Angela sat next to me in European History, but I was on my own in Chemistry and, thus, forced to partner with Mike Newton. Still, he only flirted with me for the first half of class, and he'd make for a more talkative table-mate than the empty space Edward Cullen had left next to me last year, so things could have been worse.

All-in-all, the first two classes were a success. It was when I walked into senior English that all hell broke loose.

I had been chatting with Angela when we came into the room, giggling and comparing teachers as she had just come from pre-calculus and I had just left chemistry. I hadn't been paying attention. I had been caught up in Angela's beyond vivid description of the new pre-calc teacher and his sweating problem. I had been laughing too hard and fiddling with the straps of my backpack. I wasn't looking around. I wasn't looking for him. I wasn't even thinking about him. Hell, I didn't even know he was back. But I felt him. His presence. I felt him before I even saw him. Before I knew where to look.

Edward Cullen.

I stopped short. I froze. Angela walked into my back, throwing some colorful words in my direction, complaining at my lack of forward motion. And then they were concerned words. And then I guess she looked around and found him, found out what had made me stop, because suddenly her hand was on my arm, warm and safe and supportive and bringing me back to reality.

"Bella," she whispered in my ear, squeezing my arm. "Bella, it's ok."

It's ok. It's ok. No. No it's not.

"Bella," she tried again, tugging on me now, trying to get me to sit down. "Isabella, the bell is going to ring. You need to move now. It's fine. You'll be fine. Let's go."

Let's go. Good idea. Let's leave. Now. Let's leave now. I turned to tell her this, turned to ask her to run with me. I spun facing her, preparing the words in my mouth, but the bell rang and the teacher cleared her throat and Angela moved both hands to my back and full-on pushed me to an open seat near the back of the room. I had no choice. It was walk or fall. I walked.

She kept one hand on my back as we moved, guiding me towards the open desk, offering me an apologetic smile after she left me there and dropped into her own seat next to mine. I looked at her a moment, quirking the corner of my mouth up in what was meant to be a gesture of understanding but ended up looking like more of a grimace. I dropped my eyes to the desk. I concentrated on the teacher's words. I would not look anywhere else. I could not look anywhere else.

I didn't even know where he was sitting. I just knew he was there. He was there, here, and he was close. I could feel him. God, I could feel him near me. And I didn't know what to do. Fuck me, I didn't know what to do. Surely I could look at him. Surely it would be ok. But... but what then? If I looked, I wouldn't be able to stop, and that was not alright. So no. No looking. Look at the desk. Look at Angela. Nowhere else, Bella. Nowhere...

"Alice Cullen?" an authoritative voice called from the front of the room.

At the sound of the last name, my head tried to snap up reflexively, but I caught myself just in time. No looking up. No looking around. Dammit, Bella, you can do this.

"Here!"

"Edward Cullen?"

Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. I hate this teacher. Hate her. Why call roll? Why? It's so stupid. We're here. We're all here. Leave us alone. Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up shut up...

"Here."

And there it was. Oh god, there it was. That voice. That voice that had followed me, stayed with me after he'd gone. That voice that had told me goodbye. That voice that had burned itself into my brain, echoing through my dreams. That amazing voice. All bell-like and velvet and sex incarnate. That fucking voice.

This time when my head snapped up, I was powerless to control it. And then I saw him. He was in the next row, seated in front of Angela, and I was suddenly very grateful that she had steered me to this desk, because if I had sat behind him... it wasn't worth thinking about.

I looked at him. Memorized him. Stared. Gawked.

And he was more beautiful than I had remembered.

What an asshole.

His hair was... god that hair. All copper and gorgeous and practically glowing under the fluorescent lights that made the rest of us look like zombies. It was messy and amazing and all I could think about was touching it, running my fingers through it. This seemed to be my Edward Cullen default. Fuck I love his hair. My fingers twitched just looking at it. God I wanted to touch it...

Angela kicked me. Hard.

"Isabella Swan?" the teacher called from the front, her tone implying that it wasn't the first time she'd said it.

Shit.

"Here," I managed, licking my lips nervously and clenching my hands into fists, trying to compose myself. Trying to be normal again. Trying to...

Oh fuck. He looked at me.

I took a deep breath. I took two. I took three. I breathed for a full minute, practically meditating, schooling my expression into a sphinx-like calm, and then I looked back. I met his gaze. And the planet disappeared.

How does he do that?

We locked eyes for what seemed like forever, and I felt my anger and panic and frustration melt away, shift into something less healthy, less useful. I felt my insides liquify under that gaze, felt my body go warm and buzz with electricity. His golden eyes met my brown, and god help me but I was lost. So lost. And a little too happy about it. Ok, a lot too happy about it.

I studied his face, taking the opportunity to try to read him now that he was looking at me, but he was as inscrutable as ever. I could sense the wall behind his eyes, the wall that I had tried so hard to break down all those months ago. His mouth was frozen in a hard line, his jaw set, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tenser than they should have been. I looked to his hands, remembering the first day that I had seen him, remembering how his beautiful fingers had been curled into angry fists when he had laid eyes on me for the first time, and couldn't help the relieved smile that crossed my lips when I found them relaxed against the desk in front of him. And he must have noticed my change of expression, because his changed as well.

For a moment, just one moment, he relaxed. For an instant, the wall behind those gold pools crumbled before me, opening into a vast beauty that made my breath hitch in my chest. For a second, the corner of his lips turned up into the painfully adorable crooked smile that I remembered so well, that I was sure would be the death of me. He released a breath that I hadn't realized he had been holding, and his shoulders lost some of their tension. His fingers twitched against the surface of the desk. He leaned very slightly towards me. It was so beautiful. It was all of the good memories and none of the bad. All of the longing I had felt towards him, all of the daydreams and fantasies and feelings came rushing back, and the relief that washed over me in that moment was palpable. Because in that moment he was the boy I knew he could be. The one I had hoped for. In that moment, he was real. It was amazing. It was... over.

Lauren Mallory, seated in front of him, turned around to pass him the class syllabus, and the moment vanished as soon as it had come. He politely thanked her before turning to present Angela hers, and proceeded to studiously pore over the sheet of paper, examining it as though it would impart upon him the answers to life's greatest mysteries. He stared at it, gripping it so tightly that the paper began to quiver, and then he flattened it against the desk, resolutely ignoring me. The spell had been broken.

I turned to Angela, completely miffed, but she had no answers for me, merely a commiserating smile and a confused shrug. I felt a piece of paper slide under my fingers, and turned just in time to watch Eric Yorkie turn back around in his seat. I looked down at my own copy of the syllabus, pretending to read it, to study it just as carefully as Edward had his. I stared at it as the teacher explained it from the front of the room, trying to look as though I was paying attention. Trying to look unaffected in case Edward glanced at me again. But it was a waste of effort. Because he never did.

Books were distributed. The first assignment was issued. Apparently we would be covering Shakespeare this semester. Ordinarily I would have been thrilled. Today I didn't give a shit. And the class wore on. If I wasn't looking at my desk, I was looking at the clock. If I wasn't looking at the clock, I was looking at Angela, but I tried not to do that too often because my gaze would invariably stray to the enigma that was sitting in front of her.

It was... god it was torture. Agony. I was lost. Totally and completely lost. All of the confidence, the happiness, the comfort I had experienced since he had left disappeared the moment I saw him again. All of my progress vanished. New Bella was replaced with a quivering ball of emotions. Confusion wracked my brain. Unbidden memories surfaced.

Edward sitting with his family in the cafeteria on my first day.

Edward and I arguing on the way to the nurse.

Edward convincing Angela to take me to the hospital.

Edward as he walked into class late.

Edward's arm under my hand during our detention, ice cold and humming with electricity.

Edward telling me he was distracted by me.

Edward telling me he thought about me.

Edward standing before me in the parking lot on that day, stock still and glittering in the sun...

Edward saying goodbye...

"Bells," Angela said softly, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder and squeezing it reassuringly when I flinched in surprise. "Let's go."

I looked around. The room was empty, save for the teacher in the front, giving us both quizzical looks.

The room was empty and Edward was gone.

I rose on unsteady legs, following my friend as she led me from the classroom, numbly glancing back at the desk he had occupied just moments ago. She slowed as we left the building, falling into step beside me and snaking her arm through mine, lending me her strength, her support, waiting for me to talk as we headed for the health class that we thankfully had together.

It wasn't until we had reached the appropriate classroom and sat down again that she broke the silence, the concern evident in her voice.

"Isabella, are you alright?"

I turned to look at her, thinking for a moment about what she had just asked, about what would constitute an honest answer to her very reasonable question. I turned it over in my mind, replaying what had happened in the English room, how he had looked, how he had acted, how I had responded. I went over every memory that had resurfaced, every emotion that had awakened in his presence. I heard him say goodbye to me again, his voice as clear in my recollection as it had been the day he'd said it.

I turned to look at her, bitter tears accumulating behind my eyes, threatening to surface and overtake my face. And then I looked to the door as it opened, admitting one last student, a little later than the others.

Edward Cullen.

"No, Angela. No, I'm not."

A/N: So... yeah. Hope you liked it. I'm going to e-mail this to Hannah, but I believe she's indisposed, so you'll be getting un-beta'd chapters until she's available. I disappeared on her for a while so no hard feelings. Just hope I haven't made any egregious plot errors or grammar faux-pas.

Please review. I just wrote this and am posting it immediately in supplication. Just press the button and write something. Anything. I beg of thee.