A/N: I'm really sorry to start messing with the story already, but "Edward Cullen" has been changed to "Edward Masen" in the previous chapter, because I got an idea for more plot development later. Sorry for any confusion!
I am in love with this fic now. I guess this chapter resembles "Twilight" a little bit, but I hope my descriptions make it a little more original. And I've never written Edward before this fic, so I hope he's O.K.
Finally, thanks so much for every review so far! Please please please keep it up, it puts a smile on my face. Maybe make it my Birthday pressie?
Untitled
By Bella Swan
He was as thirsty as he was ugly – his radish-colored skin resembled vomit in the harsh moonlight. He faced his prey with a threatening glare before –
Delete, delete, delete.
Chapter Three
After two whole days of holding it tight, however, things got a little sweaty.
"Bella…" Angela groaned, as she set down a mug of coffee on my desk and saw my left hand clenched in my fist. "Please tell me that you are just really, really angry, and that you have actually called this guy." I pulled a face.
"I am just not a phone person," I began, but Angela put up a hand to silence me. She made me hold out my outstretched palm and placed the desk phone on it. I stared at it in horror like it was on fire.
"Go on," she urged me. I didn't move. Instead, I turned to smile at Mike, who had appeared – as ever, like a loyal Labrador – at my side. Today, I used his presence as a welcome distraction.
"What's going on?" he asked me, but Angela purposefully answered for me before I could even open my mouth.
"Bella is about to call this guy," she explained, and gestured at the piece of paper I held in my hand. "He gave her his number the other day, and she's chickened out." She gave me a meaningful look. "Until now. Right, Bella?"
"Right." I gulped. Mike shrugged, reaching across me to take Edward's number from me. "Mike, what are you-?"
"Edward Masen," he read aloud, and a line of goose bumps erupted down my spine. "I don't know, Bella. I mean, if you're chickening out then maybe deep down you don't really want to go out with this guy-" Angela rolled her eyes, and snatched back the paper, dropping it on to my desk.
"Bella, for goodness' sake, just call him."
"Hey, Bella!" I looked up from my friends to see Billy Black calling my name across the office. He was sat in his wheelchair over by the elevator, waiting for it to arrive. "How's your story coming?" A pang of realisation hit me.
"Oh, it's getting there," I shouted back, and even managed a half-hearted thumbs-up. "I think I'm on to something." Angela cocked an eyebrow.
"Is that true?" she asked, as I watched Billy wheel himself into the open elevator. I swallowed the hard lump in my throat.
"Ha!" I scoffed. "No. I'm not even close to discovering a plot." I sank back in my chair, wallowing in my own lack of success. Angela sighed, and it was only when the clack-clack-clack of Lauren's cheap slides on the floor got louder that I realised why. I refrained from wrenching as her designer-impersonator perfume became overpowering.
"Hey, Angela," she greeted her warmly, before adding as an afterthought, "Bella. Mike." We grunted back, equally enthusiastic. I tuned out Lauren's voice and pulled out the keypad to my computer and started typing anything that came to my head.
With a roar that echoed against the papered walls, he snapped off her head and devoured her brains – her fishy eyes were all that remained.
Maybe that was a bit too harsh.
My fingers hovered in mid-air; I was milliseconds away from writing again before I caught wind of Lauren and Angela's conversation and paused, my interest held.
"…yeah, and that water-cooler guy was totally cute. The one with the green eyes?" I smirked, my own personal Edward smiling back at me in my head. I squeezed the slim piece of paper in my palm smugly. 'Cute' didn't even begin to describe him… but then again, Lauren couldn't have possibly gotten that much of a good look. He'd spent most of his time here in the office with me.
Ha!
Complacency was evident in Angela's voice as she replied. I knew that the piece of paper I was holding tight was in her mind, as well as mine. "Well, you know, Lauren," she said, and I began googling random things just so that it wouldn't appear I was eavesdropping. "Bella has his number. He gave it to her himself." The sound that came from Lauren was unmistakably a snort of disgust.
As she skulked sulkily away from us with her back turned, I snuck a sly high-five with Angela underneath the desk. Angela glanced evocatively at my closed fist, and I sighed, reaching for the desk phone I had replaced several minutes ago, hoping that she would forget.
"Fine." My fingers trembled as I punched in the numbers Edward had so delicately scrawled. It took me three times to get it correct. Between every ring, my heart thumped against my ribcage a hundred times, at least. Finally, he answered, and I melted into a pool of swooning onto my desk.
"Hello? Edward Masen speaking."
Angela grinned at my lack of composure, evidently satisfied. Mike, however, rolled his eyes and rose from his chair. I remained like a marshmallow, seemingly unable to move.
"Hello?" Edward's voice sounded in my ear again. "Is anybody there?"
I released a squeak in embarrassment, before putting my head in my hands. "Hi, it's Bella Swan," I replied, mortified. "From the Forks Ledger? I'm sorry for the whole silence thing, I kinda melted…" I groaned at my tween-like behaviour. Edward, however, sounded amused.
"Bella," he repeated, cheerfully. "It's nice to hear from you." I struggled with every urge in my body to collapse into a puddle again on my desk, and fought to keep my voice even.
"It's nice to hear you too." There I go again. Could I be any more pre-pubescent? "Um, I mean…" I trailed off, looking desperately at Angela for support. She nodded once, and I proceeded, dreading every second. "… I was… kind of wondering…"
"Bella," Edward interrupted, and I sighed in relief. For a few seconds, at least, I didn't have to try to be coherent. "Seeing as I almost definitely know what you're going to ask, and I am the male out of you and me…" I giggled. "… would you like to go out to dinner with me tonight?"
Tonight. Oh my God.
I checked my clock – that gave me at least four hours.
Could I possibly make myself look presentable in that amount of time?
"I know its short notice," Edward apologised. "But there's no time like the present, right?" I nodded, swallowing hard, before realising that he couldn't see me. "Bella?" Edward sounded worried. "Are you alright? Did you…" A faint snort could be heard in the background. "…melt again?"
I blushed scarlet. "No," I answered, defensively. "I remained perfectly solid, thanks." I smiled. "Tonight would be great."
Edward mentioned a local restaurant – one I had heard of, but with a Ledger salary had never quite been able to eat there – and I agreed to meet him there. I didn't think I could quite survive a car ride without blurting something hideously embarrassing along the way. We agreed a time, and then Edward bade me a soothing and seductive goodbye.
And the really sad thing was – whilst I tried in every way possible to sound alluring and desirable, and failed miserably – I don't think he even meant to sound like that.
"Are you sure I look O.K?"
I fiddled with my shirt – for I had refused adamantly to wear a dress – nervously and studied my reflection in the mirror for about the thousandth time that night. Angela pretended to be seriously surveying me with a critical eye, and I waved her away dismissively.
"Please can you be serious about this?" I demanded, and Angela laughed at my anxiety.
"I was," she protested. "The first hundred times!" I rolled my eyes at her and stepped out of my door into the nice cold air. Maybe it would get rid of my permanent blush. "You look fine, Bella, I promise. You look great, even."
I plucked at my shirt again. "Are you sure this shirt is… glamorous enough for this restaurant?" Angela nodded, and I walked towards my truck.
"I might ditch the truck though," she added, teasingly. "It kinda goes against your whole 'I'm-trying-to-be-feminine' look." I scowled, and patted my truck defensively.
"The thing is fine," I argued, and climbed up into the cab. "Thanks for helping me out, Ang. Charlie's out – not that he'd have any idea when it comes to girly stuff." Angela grinned.
"Not to mention he'd probably have an aneurysm when he found out you were going out with a water cooler boy." She relayed Edward's profession with mock disapproval. I smiled tentatively at her before backing out of the driveway carefully and starting down the road towards the restaurant. It would take me twenty minutes, if I was lucky. Thank God Angela and I had snuck out of the office an hour early to prepare. I had plenty of time.
But, surprisingly, Edward was already there waiting for me, despite it being twenty-five minutes before our agreed time. He greeted me with a cool kiss on my cheek and exhaled blissfully at his touch. Oh, God. I was going to fight all night not to dissolve into a gooey, infatuated mess.
"What are you doing here so early?" I asked him, and he answered with a dazzling smile that showed all his teeth.
"I just have fabulous intuition," he told me, taking my arm and leading me inside. I followed mindlessly, my mind numb with the fact that his skin was touching mine again.
I was right about the restaurant – more than right. I suspected that even if I saved up for a whole year, I still couldn't afford even a first course. We were served champagne in sparkling flutes, and desserts that were three-storeys high. And the bathrooms… I really wanted to take the whole cubicle home with me.
Edward questioned me throughout our meal – my hometown upbringing, my parents, my friends, my life, from birth through to that second I met him for the first time. By the time I'd finished talking I was hungry enough to eat our four-course meal all over again.
He wouldn't allow me to question him – not his home, his family, or his job… though I suspected being a 'water-cooler guy' wasn't his only occupation. He questioned me endlessly on my favourite foods, colours, flowers, films, until he knew more about me than even I did.
And every second I watched him, memorizing any detail of him I had previously neglected. The skin of his face – I knew it was soft even though I hadn't, as much as I'd yearned to, reached out and touched it – the way it flushed whenever I tried to ask him about himself… the perfect shape of his copper hair. I was obsessed, infatuated, completely head over heels… so much, in fact, that when he excused himself to the bathroom I reached for any napkin I could to write down what I could remember.
His skin was the colour of vanilla ice-cream, and looked like it would melt if I pressed a finger to it…
His hair was the colour of copper wire – though nowhere near as brittle or thin. It was thick and soft, and made me ache to run my undeserving fingers through it…
I found myself slipping into first person – it was the only way I could perfectly describe him. I didn't want a character – anyone else – to have the pleasure of mulling over his features, his perfection. I was so lost in my own writing that I didn't notice him return to his seat and watch me with apparent fascination.
"What do you have there?" he questioned me, referring to the several napkins I had piled around me, all with eager descriptions of him scribbled across them. I snatched them hastily to my chest before stuffing them into my purse. He smiled almost knowingly, and my gut somersaulted; horrified at the possibility that he might have read one of them. "Are you ready to go?"
I nodded, standing automatically. He offered his hand and I took it, acknowledging all the envious looks from every woman in the room. Edward seemed oblivious to the attention he received, instead squeezing my hand affectionately like I was the only one in the room. He even insisted on walking me across the parking lot over to my truck, where he finally released me and stood back, almost like he was admiring my appearance.
Which was ridiculous. I was plain, on a good day.
And then he leant in, and any oxygen I may have been inhaling before then was gone. He nose touched mine and an electric shock shot down to my lips, rendering them frozen. I half-closed my eyes, warning my stomach about the feeling it would no doubt experience if his lips touched mine…
And then, there was nothing. I opened my eyes again expectantly, to find him leaning nonchalantly against my truck and admiring me again. I composed myself immediately, trying to pretend like I hadn't expected a kiss.
Even though I had. I mean, had it been my imagination that he was so close?
"I think I'll save that for next time," he said, softly. "I will see you soon, Bella." And there was no question about it – I would wake up in the early hours of the morning… I would skip sleep entirely if it meant spending another second with him. I nodded, trapped again by his unnerving beauty. He winked at me just once before turning his back and walking across the lot to his car – which was parked underneath the shade of a tree, hidden from view.
That was it – I couldn't control myself any longer. I let myself go – without particularly caring, either – and sink into a puddle of unadulterated ecstasy.
