Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.


I am woken by the feel of your rough fingertips tracing patterns on the bare skin of my back, during the night I had discarded your shirt in favour of feeling your bare skin pressed against mine. I keep my eyes closed for a few minutes, processing the fact that last night hadn't been a dream and that you were now in my bed with me, mostly naked after a night of just sleeping.

I didn't want this to be over either; I did not want you to stop touching me like you were attracted to me or to give me a look of pity before admitting that we had a fun night but you still saw me as that little girl with wild hair.

"What time is it?" I ask you, my voice thick with sleep, knowing that the sooner that this was over, the sooner I could start recovering from it.

"Six AM," you reply and I groan very unattractively before moving my head to face you. You're smiling at me and I'm breathless, your fingers still running over my skin in patterns I can't make out and I don't want you to ever leave my bed.

"Why are we awake then?" I ask you, unable to resist smiling back at you. I don't move, I don't want to risk losing the connection we have in this moment and have you regret this, regret me.

"I have to be at work in an hour," you say and you move your hand away from me, your face losing its smile and I want to cry at the loss of contact.

I sit up while you get up from my bed and wrap the sheet around my semi-naked torso. I watch you carefully as you make no move to put your shirt on but instead, walk around my room looking at everything.

"What are you doing?" I ask, finding clothes to put on, feeling vulnerable.

"Just trying to figure out who you've become over the past ten or so years," you say, running your fingers over to well-worn spines of my books.

"And who have I become?" I ask boldly and it surprises me because I am not bold, or brave or anything that could possibly satisfy you. I wasn't the girl who brought a guy home after a night, and I hoped you knew that.

You turn around then and look at me, your green eyes more intense than I'd ever seen before and a half-smirk gracing the mouth I wanted to ravage again. You don't answer me and I'm embarrassed because it's more obvious than ever that I'm not up to par. You'll walk out of my room and the next time I'll see you, you'll be engaged to an Italian model with a gorgeous body and I'll only be the bookish girl from that one night.

You dress quickly after that I'm part grateful and part sad because I'd wanted you before but now that I'd had a taste, I wanted you more than ever.

"I have to go," you tell me and I imagine there is a regret in your voice, as though you'd rather be here with me than at your job. I realise then that I don't even know what you do.

"I know," I reply, leading you out of my bedroom and through the apartment, all the while trying not to look at you.

"Can I get your number?" you ask as I've got my hand on the doorknob to let you out and my heart starts thumping in my chest because it is literally the last thing I ever expected to happen.

"Um, sure," I say, sounding a thousand times more casual than I appear and I grab a sharpie from the kitchen counter and your hold out your hand for me to write on and I do, inking the digits as clearly as I can with my shaking hand.

"Thank you," you say when I'm done and I look up and smile at you with my whole face for the first time all morning because you want to see me again.

"Bye Bella," you say, returning my smile, teeth and all, before leaving through the door.

It isn't until later, after I'm in the shower and washing my hair, my smile still strong that I remember that it's my birthday and my smile falters a little bit because I realise that without even trying, you've already made it better than all of them.