Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no money. So sad, so true.
A/N: THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed last chapter! I love you all. Thank you to lvk1978 for naming chapter three and making punny connections between Simon and Garfunkel, John Donne, and Bella. She said: "No man is an island...and therefore never send to know for whom the bell(a)
tolls; it tolls for thee." (John Donne). Hahahaha, I love you.
I'm sorry that this chapter took so long--there have been multiple real life issues that have gotten in the way of writing. Next chapter will be faster, and you'll get some EPOV (which you'll definitely want after this one).
Please Read and Review!
Bella
I had never felt so mortified. I didn't even know why I felt that way; I knew I was overreacting--but he--this random smoking hot guy, Edward, had been staring at me. Me! Am I so out-of-the-ordinary for Forks that I am truly gawk-worthy? I snorted in disbelief. I don't really think so. There's nothing particularly special about me. I mean--jeez! Just look at me! Pale skin, paint on my pants....
I stood before the bathroom mirror, cringing at my appearance as I self-deprecatingly enumerated my average features.
I was glad that Charlie wasn't home yet. I knew that he was not as perceptive as Renée, but given my panicked appearance, even he would be able to tell that I was riled. I hated to imagine the awkward and embarrassing attempt at a conversation that would ensue.
He'd have to drag me down to the station and put me into one of those rooms with a mirrored window and interrogate me bad-ass-cop-style before I would ever confess that "it's about a boy." I huffed a small laugh as I wondered if Forks ever had need for interrogation rooms.
Yeah. No. I don't think so.
Knowing Charlie's surprising paternal protective streak, he'd probably reach for his gun and go all Gestapo on any poor sod who tried to get within ten feet of me.
Good thing I only have a first name... I guess.
The storm door slammed with a tinny ricochet in the metal frame.
Charlie made his way into the house, set things down, and removed his boots as he muttered to himself. From down the hall I could vaguely make out the words "stupid idiot," "spoiled brat," and "dumbass teenager." I briefly panicked as I imagined that he was talking about me, and then realized how foolish I was being.
There was the flat snap as he opened a can of beer, and a long sigh as Charlie settled into a chair somewhere and flicked on the TV.
"Bells, you home?"
I paused, pretending not to hear him. Am I home? Yes. Can I talk to Charlie and appear normal? I resisted the urge to take my pulse. My stomach was still clenching and though I could no longer hear the galloping beat through my skull, my heart continued its marathon in my chest.
Breathe. I inhaled long and deep all the way into my abdomen.
Okay, I feel normal. Almost. Enough to get by. It'll have to work!
I took the stairs one by one and went to join Charlie in the Living Room.
"Hey, dad. Did you call me before? I was in the bathroom; I wasn't sure if I heard you."
He was eating cold pizza for dinner, and my stomach was still roiling enough that thought of food made me queasy.
"No problem. I was just wondering if you'd made anything for dinner, but I remembered we had some leftovers. Not that I expect you to cook for me, Bells, really. Just having you here is nice enough."
"Oh, well, I like cooking now and then, dad, so don't worry too much about it."
"Okay. You know I appreciate whatever you do around the house, right?"
"Yeah, it's no problem, dad."
Awk-ward.
A few drawn out seconds passed, and the silence between us grew strained.
"So, um... how was your day?"
Charlie groaned and put his food down. "Bells, sometimes I can't believe what kids get up to! Not you, of course, you're a good kid and a cautious driver, I know. But today I was patrolling down by Campbell Pit Road, and a car went flying past me at nearly 80 miles per hour! Bella, the road is clearly marked as a 35 zone. Hell, part of it is residential! The gall of some people, they think that can do whatever the hell that they want!"
I wasn't sure if he was done talking, but I was grinning at his intent expression and the passion in his words.
Charlie is so cute when he gets all worked up.
"Did you give 'em hell?" I asked, amused.
"Well, I got him all right, but it turned out that it was one of the doctor's sons. Doctor Cullen, down at the hospital. He's great man, and his kids are usually well behaved, but this one--I don't know about him. I shouldn't judge, but I think he's a bad egg. I really wanted to stick him with a big one, but I couldn't do it... I was easy on him as a favor to Carlisle. Too easy, if you ask me. I sure hope that he'll give that kid of his what's coming to him. I know I'm the law, but parenting has its own laws as well. Gotta respect certain small-town ideology and politics, you understand, Bells?"
I nodded back at him, a smirk curved on my lips. I loved that Charlie had real passion for his work. He cared about the people in the town, but he was sure as hell opinionated about small-town lawbreakers. I didn't think that he would last a day on the force in a city... but somebody has to take care of Forks, right?
I retired to my room for the evening, pleased that Charlie had successfully diverted my angst. The moment I climbed into bed my mind became a whirlwind of thoughts and my anxious stomach fared no better. I saw Edward in my mind, his eyes like glowing orbs against the lush backdrop of Forks. I wanted to fall into the green and never return. My dreams that night were amorphous colors and emotions and nothing specific came through in my mind aside from Edward's eyes.
The morning brought streams of bright light through the window. I cracked one eye open to the floating motes of dust dancing amid the glow of the day. The world felt alive and exciting, and as I dressed, I realized that I had not been so thrilled to be awake since I left Phoenix. Be it the sunlight or the burning of eyes in my mind, I did not care. I pulled out one of my art boxes and ventured outside into a patch of sun in the front of the house.
I laid a ratty blanket out onto the damp mossy ground and unfolded my portable easel before me. Shoes and socks off, I stood in front of a new canvas and began to sketch. My hand had apparently declared self-determination from my body; the lines and shapes that streamed from my pencil were foreign and surprising to me. Deciduous trees with dangling epiphytes, primordial ferns that threatened mutiny from the current era, and squishy-looking mosses were born from my gliding pencil tip. A certain part of me was aghast, but my better senses ruled and let the greenery proceed on the page.
I could do this for hours, and often did. Time disappeared as I created art and lost myself to the colors and forms, using my artist's eyes and hands to evoke romanticized images.
I would forget that I had paint on my hands, and later discover that I had a new streak of blue in my hair or war paint smudged haphazardly on my cheekbones. The sun passed overhead, and I was lost in my world of oil.
It was when my stomach growled painfully that I forced myself to take a break. I hadn't eaten anything since that massive cookie yesterday afternoon, and my stomach was making its displeasure known--it felt as though it were threatening to cave in on itself. I was ravenous.
My inspiration and creativity was at an all-time-high for Forks, and I couldn't bear to lose it. I quickly assembled a sandwich and a hunk of watermelon, poured some lemonade, and returned to my open-air studio, food in hand.
I made myself sit down on the blanket, feet beneath me as I ate. It wouldn't do any good to ingest the paint, so I forced myself not to multitask. I studied my painting, pleased with the verdant scene that was erupting from the canvas. I couldn't help but laugh at myself for the color scheme; his eyes were still emblazoned in my brain. It had been so long since I had been attracted to someone--let alone so viscerally, that I clutched the physical memory and held it fast.
Maybe there is hope for me yet! I'm not doomed! But as I mused over this fantasy, I recognized one simple problem. I ran away from him. If he were ever interested... well surely he must think I'm nuts, and that does not bode well for any chances that I might once have had. Besides... he's so unbelievably... gorgeous, and what am I?
Watermelon dribbled down my chin, and I wiped it away with the back of my hand, and then dried my hands on my pants. I tucked my thoughts away into my mind as I took up my paintbrushes again.
As I dipped my brushes into the paint and mixed my palette, I felt a niggling sensation in my brain that caught my attention. A familiar miasma of unease settled around me like a shroud, initiating the impulse to flee. The boring sensation in the back of my head made me feel as if someone were watching me; a chill trickled slowly down my spine as the panic swept through me and tightened my lungs.
Keep it together, Bella. You're in Forks, not Phoenix. Forks.
One forced breath after another slowly calmed my nerves and averted a panic attack. I took a moment to observe my surroundings. It had been a very long time since I had imagined someone's unwanted presence. Try as I might, though, I still felt it. Checking once more, I looked carefully around, and saw no one. I could not help but feel foolish.
It's moments like these that make me wonder if I really am just nuts.
Suddenly, a shocking crack sounded from behind me, followed closely by a thundering thud that traveled through the ground. On high alert again, I jumped and turned in a single movement, for once agile in my response to danger.
Edward?
There were no words to describe the surprise of that moment; I was at once elated and horrified.
Before me was Edward from the café crouched in a cat-like landing pose. Behind him was a rather large dead branch lying sadly on the ground, a fallen soldier or a shipwreck remnant washed ashore.
My mouth was agape, and I was confused and angry at the startled reaction and panic that he caused. I bit my lip as my hormones rushed in response to his proximity.
What do I say? What do I do?! Something--anything!
Edward raised himself up, and looked at me tentatively, again as if he were going to say something.
I closed my mouth, and clenched my paintbrushes tightly in my hand.
"Um, hello." He said quietly. "My name is Edward Cullen. I'm sorry if I startled you, I didn't mean to. I just..." his voice trailed off, and he looked pained.
The adrenaline ebbed, and I returned to my senses.
What the hell were you doing?
I was both happy to see him in the flesh, and indignant that he had scared the living shit out of me.
"Edward." I tried not to sound too hard, but failed. "What the hell were you doing in the tree... in my front yard?"
He gaped at me and I watched his lips quirk and quiver as he took his time answering.
"Well, I, um, I like climbing trees, I guess."
Is this guy for real?
"I mean..." he began again. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I was watching you paint. I fully understand if you're angry with me, I think I'd be." His eyes were downcast and remorseful.
"Yeah." I was kind of pissed, gorgeous eyes, body, abs, forearms, jawline... or none.
"Well, don't do it again. Please. I don't like being watched. Or startled."
"I'm really sorry, Bella."
I watched his lips as they caressed my name and lingered on the lyrical 'el' sound. It was titillating to hear something so dear to me on his lips.
Wait. What?
"How do you know my name?" I wondered aloud, confusion on my face.
"Oh." His eyebrows raised, widening his eyes into a comically panicked look. "Well... I asked around. Small town, you know?"
He... asked? Whoah.
My mind and body felt overloaded as comprehension dawned and a clear picture unfolded. Gorgeous guy stares, asks, and watches me? I should be so creeped out by this, by him. Why am I not?
"Look," he stumbled, "I'm sorry, it won't happen again. I made a big mistake."
I became so tangled in my thoughts that I had forgotten how to respond. I realized that if I didn't say something, he would disappear, and I may never see him again. The thought of losing this Edward-shaped excitement in my life was surprisingly agonizing. I had to do or say something, but I didn't know what or how to do.
The longer I stand here awkwardly thinking about it, the more likely it is that he will walk away.
Edward decisively turned to leave, and began walking across the lawn.
Talk, dammit!
"Edward, wait!"
He stopped, and turned his head to me.
"Sorry. It's just... you shouldn't have scared me like that, but, and..." I stumbled as I tried in vain to formulate a sentence. "Can we start over?"
A small half-smile quivered on his lips, and he turned fully toward me now.
"Start over?" he asked.
"Yeah." My nervous excitement increased as I realized what I planned to do. I placed the paintbrushes on the now paint-smudged blanket, and wiped my hand against my pant leg as I walked toward him.
"Hi, my name is Bella Swan." I held out my hand to him in greeting, feeling self-conscious and uncomfortable, but thrilled at the danger the Edward represented.
His grin climbed his face as he reached out to meet my hand. He folded my hand into his, and in the fraction of a second that our skin met, electricity exploded through my skin, up my arm, across my chest. It traversed every distant part of my body, and blood rushed past my ears. Through the flood, I saw him smile rapturously at me, and I distantly hear him say, "Hi, I'm Edward Cullen."
I am dead. Right? I must be dead.
Whole, long seconds may have passed until the fog on my brain lifted and the electrical storm wreaking havoc on my neurons ceased. Our hands were still clasped between us, and I liked the way his fully eclipsed mine. I felt safe.
I slowly pulled my hand back, and tried to regain any remnant of intelligence left.
"It's uh--very nice to meet you, Edward." I tried not to sound to awed, but thought that I failed.
"Bella," Edward said with a fiery look in his eye, "the pleasure is mine."
I realized that I had passed some paint onto Edward's hand from mine, and jumped at the opportunity to touch him again.
"Edward, I'm so sorry. I think I got some paint on you--it's oil, so it's stubborn to remove. Let me get some turpentine for you."
I turned and grinned victoriously as I walked over to my art box and pulled out a bottle of the pungent solvent. Grabbing a rag, I doused it, and turned to go back to where Edward was standing. Instead of my smoothly executed plan, though, I walked straight into him and smacked my face against his broad chest.
I felt myself stumble, and was momentarily confused, but realized that I was safely ensconced in Edward's arms as a result of his astonishing reflexes.
At least one of us is graceful, I thought as I swooned.
I stayed in his arms a second to long, not wanting to leave them.
"Sorry--sorry, Edward, I didn't know you followed me."
He laughed, and mumbled something about "no harm done."
"Here, let me get the paint off of you."
I clutched the rag and carefully scrubbed the blue off his proffered palm, relishing the contact of our skin when my fingertips brushed cautiously against his.
I could get used to this.
I want more.
I laughed aloud to myself.
"What's so funny?" He asked, smiling at me.
"Oh, um... nothing. Just remembering something."
"Oh."
"You're probably going to want to wash your hands off... you can come inside, if you want," I offered.
"Thank you--you didn't need to do that, you know." He smiled at me, and my heart fluttered in my chest uncontrollably.
"Ah, well, don't want you walking around being all blue," I said, then laughed at my unintended pun, and was pleased to hear his laughter follow mine as we stepped into the house and I led him to the kitchen.
I let him wash his hands as I stood off to the side, ogling him freely while his back was turned. Once again, a sense of insecurity swept over me as I processed his striking features. Perhaps it was foolish to compare my own caliber to his but I was unable to stop myself. I felt certain that some 'grand joke' at my expense would be revealed.
There was no laughter. Edward shut the faucet off and turned to me, his hands dripping water onto the floor.
"Do you perhaps have a towel?"
I jumped and grabbed one from its splayed resting place on the counter, and handed it to him. Our skin made no contact this time, but his face was glowing at me and it was nearly as good.
I looked at the clock and was astonished to see that it was already nearing four o'clock.
"Well, I ought to be going, I guess."
"Oh. Really? It's just so nice to meet someone around here," I explained.
"It's been a pleasure to meet you as well. Unfortunately, Esme, my mom, said she was making some extravagant dinner tonight, so I really don't want to be late."
"Dinner? This early?"
"Ah, no, not quite." I was surprised to see that he looked a little embarrassed and flushed.
"I have a car," he said, "but it's not drivable at the moment."
"Oh. Is something wrong with it?"
His hand raked through his hair as he cast his eyes downward. "Um, well, no, there's nothing wrong. With my car, that is. I've just lost my driving privileges for the month."
"Oh, how horrible! I can't imagine not being able to get out of Forks! What did you do to deserve that?"
"Got a ticket. Speeding."
Suddenly I recollected Charlie's story from the night before, and slid a few pieces into place.
Dumbass teenager.
Dr. Carlisle Cullen.
Cullen.
Edward CULLEN.
"Soooo, Edward," I smiled devilishly, and laughed when his head popped up at my change in tone. "You wouldn't happen to have been driving eighty miles per hour on the edge of town yesterday afternoon, would you?"
The hand in his hair dragged down his face and he peered at me through his fingers.
"Yes," he mumbled.
"Really? Ha! Charlie was so pissed off last night!"
"He told you about that? About me?"
"He told me about some teenaged son of Dr. Cullen who got pulled over for speeding recklessly. I'm afraid he's not your biggest fan."
"The feeling is entirely mutual, I assure you. It's because of him that I have no car right now."
"Wait, wait, wait. It's Charlie's fault that you were speeding?"
Edward scowled at me and rolled his yes. "No. Of course not. That was my fault--"
But before he could finish his sentence, we both heard heavy tires on the gravel and snapped our eyes to the open door.
"I probably shouldn't be here right now... given that your father, well... you know..." Edward's explanation was broken by his inquiring glances around the room.
"Um, do you happen to have a back door by any chance?"
"Oh, no... sorry."
A car door slammed shut outside, and footsteps began crunching across gravel toward the front door.
"How about a garage? Open window?" I watched his face as his eyebrows rose higher and knitted more tightly together with anxiety as he realized that Charlie would be crossing the threshold within a matter or seconds.
In a critical moment propelled by sympathy and sheer proximity to the source of my hormone frenzy, I decided to offer refuge.
"Follow me."
I led him up the stairs and into my room, quickly scrambling to collect the scattered clothes decorating my floor. I had clearly not been expecting company.
I shut my door behind Edward and turned to him. We heard Charlie bump around downstairs; his presence as a third party and authority in the house made the escape to my room into a clandestine act full of wanton possibilities. I blushed as I realized who he was and where we were... and the juxtaposition and potential sent trills of excitement through me and made me shy and nervous.
"Um... yeah, so this is my room, person whom I've just met."
Edward bent over, his attention caught on the stack of painted canvasses resting in the corner nearest him.
"Are these all yours? He asked and glanced up at me.
I nodded in response, unsure of anything about this situation.
"May I?" he gestured to them.
"Sure, let me pull them out, though."
I shuffled through them, and grabbed a few.
"This is of Phoenix."
He gently took it from my hands and held it up, reverently studying the scene.
"Is this... where you're from?"
"Yeah." I sighed. Home.
I passed him two more, the first a macroscopic view of a cactus flower in full bloom at night, and the second, its twin image during the day.
"These are two out of a trio--the cactus that should be positioned between them is on my wall."
"Why don't you hang them together?"
I snorted ungracefully. "I ran out of nails?"
Edward laughed until I shushed him and pointed downstairs.
"Bella?" Charlie's muffled voice echoed up the stairwell. "You got company?" he shouted.
I quickly shot Edward what I hoped was a reassuring look; I couldn't be sure, given that the butterflies that had taken up permanent residence in my stomach cascaded to my ears and toes every time I looked at him.
"I'll be right back."
Downstairs, I found Charlie in his chair, beer in one hand, remote in the other.
Predictable, I thought affectionately.
"Hey dad, you called?"
"Hey Bella--do you have company? Is Jake here? I thought I heard someone--"
I interrupted Charlie, making nervous denials and explanations about obnoxious talk radio and his old-man hearing. He bought it readily, either too trusting or too tired to care.
At the top of the stairs I paused in front of my door, feeling nervous, anxious, excited, and bewildered about returning to Edward's company.
I turned the knob and peered into my room, my heart sinking as I looked around and couldn't find him.
How? Where?
"Edward?" I whispered.
"Out here." A quiet voice sounded from beyond the sheer curtains dancing in the breeze of the open window.
I pulled the curtain aside, and saw Edward perched like a bird on the moss-covered branch of the large Maple.
Does he have a death wish?!
"You--you could fall! The moss--the branch isn't--"
Edward's eyes crinkled as his smile spread and he laughed at me.
"Relax. I do this all the time. Remember?"
Yes, and I clearly remember that you fell out the same tree earlier!
"You can't get down that way, you know... Charlie will see you through the living room window."
He smirked.
"I was thinking of scaling the roof, actually, and going down the other side."
"Bphht--what? You're insane!"
He wouldn't really do it. Would he?
I immediately felt embarrassed as I realized that he was mocking me.
He smiled cockily and climbed to a higher branch.
"Edward! Please come down! I don't care how much Charlie dislikes you; he'll really hate it if you fall out of the tree and crack your head open on his lawn!"
Not to mention how I'll feel. Please don't fall. Please don't fall. Please don't fall.
I heard the creaking snap of dead wood, and watched in horror as Edward slipped--and grabbed on to my windowsill.
Are you a freaking monkey?
Edward climbed back into my room, his clothes smeared with black and brown and green from the wet moss coating the branches.
"No, not a monkey. Just a man."
"Did I say that out loud?"
Ugh.
My heart was racing and I was pissed at him for scaring me like that.
Breathe, Bella. Breathe.
"What was that all about?"
"What? The tree?"
"Yes, the tree! You could have killed yourself!"
My ire was evident. His face fell, all traces of arrogance disappearing.
"Oh. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I climb trees all the time, actually. It's no big deal."
"It is too a big deal!"
My attraction to him was tickling the corner of my mind, and I slammed the door shut.
I do not need this!
I left Edward in my room to go collect my spread of art supplies on the lawn before the evening dew settled and moistened everything. The painting was wet and cumbersome to carry; I ended up smudging my shirt with lines of green and blue despite my care.
Charlie had fallen asleep in his chair, and I nudged him awake and herded him upstairs. Normally I would have let him be, but the faster I could get Edward out of my room the better. I wanted him, but I didn't want to want him, and I was confused and suddenly felt very alone. I needed a girl friend to talk to, and I had no one.
When I returned to my room, my heart sang as I saw that Edward had sat on my bed.
He was looking up at the art on my walls, and when he turned to me, I felt myself adrift in his eyes once again. They were soft but bright, and so apologetic.
"I'm really sorry. This is--I know this is imposing of me, but do you think... maybe I could get a ride home? So I'm not late for dinner? I might make it in time still..."
"Yeah, okay. That's fine."
"Is your dad...?"
"Yeah, he's in bed. I guess he went to work really early."
Edward snorted, and I glared at him.
"Sorry. Again. Jeez, you must think I'm an asshole."
I sighed deeply and propped my drying painting up on an easel.
"No. You're just being stupid. It happens to be best of us, I guess."
The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile, gave him a small smile in return.
Honestly, the sooner you leave, the better. Before I do something stupid, too.
The drive to his house was uneventful, aside from the nervous pain that I was experiencing due to his nearness in the tightly enclosed cab of my truck. He directed me down one road and then another and up a long winding drive through the dark woods. My jaw dropped at the first sight of his expansive house, and he grinned at me in return.
"It's something, isn't it?"
"Um... yeah. Have you always lived here?"
"No, we moved here a few years ago."
"Oh. I guess that explains why I've never seen you before this summer."
"Yeah. We lived in Denali, Alaska before."
"Cold."
"Very. But beautiful."
"So Edward, will you try not to have any more run-ins with my dad, please? You'll give him a coronary or something."
"Um... well. I don't know if I can make any promises, but I hope it's not at the detriment of his health."
"And why's that?"
"What if I want to see you again?"
My heart thudded in my chest at his words, and my brain stopped.
"You want to see me again?" I swallowed and bit my lip nervously.
"Yeah. Definitely. Can I?"
This is not a good idea, Bella.
Oh, but no, it's such a good idea.
But it's not.
To hell with it.
"Um. Okay. But please don't try to kill yourself in that tree again, okay?"
"No promises there, either." He grinned impishly at me as he took down my number and promised to call soon.
My heart fluttered out the door with him as he left, gave me a wave, and entered his house.
I retraced my steps home and arrived safely in my room, clutching my phone like a lifeline and a promise.
What have I done? Am I overreacting? Why do I feel so happy and... scared?
I checked the time, wondered if Renée would still be awake, and decided that it didn't matter because she would want this call regardless of the hour.
As much as I did not want to share Edward, I could not stand to keep this to myself, and somehow, Renée always had the right answers.
A/N: My beta, intheskies, pointed out that Edward is a huge creeper. My response is: S. Meyer made him that way! I mean, really. He was sneaking into Bella's room for months without her knowledge. That's not creepy at all. The only reason that Bella didn't freak out any more than she did is because it's Edward.
EPOV next chapter! :)
