Once again, I caught myself being far too eager to get to the art room. I had had these days even before Bella, days where my fingers just itched to work with the paints, and clay, and scissors to create collages. An urge to create. I never thought I would find a safe space to do that within a high school, but I had been proven wrong. There was something peaceful about a quiet room, especially when it was empty. I heard students bustling in the halls to go to their lockers and leave for the day, while I was squeezing dollops of paint onto the makeshift palette of a lid from a tub of sour cream. Mrs. Welch made do with the teacher's salary, supplying so many plastic cups given as swag at career fairs, or using her personal old clothing as rags for students to use. When we were graduated for a few years, I already knew I would be sending her a check to help her with the funds of her classroom and this art club.

After all, this was the room where I met Bella. If it wasn't special to me before, it was disgustingly sentimental to me now.

I set my phone up on an empty stool, beginning to play some music, just to fill the silence. I was clearly going through a phase with my nostalgia for the 1990s. It happened from time to time, each member of the family had time periods that they still integrated their personal tastes from. Esme had a particular fondness for the 1980s, I remember her enthusiasm for blush. Rosalie adored the fashion of the 50's. I normally didn't enjoy trends, or pay much attention, but the 90s had been nice. The clothes were comfortable when grunge fashion hit, the makeup was easy. Before, I had done just enough to blend in, Alice revamping my closet every few years, but that was the decade I didn't need much help. I had a playlist of my favorite songs from that era, and I knew that if me and Bella were going to chat, the sound of a clock ticking would not be comforting for either of us.

I'm high but I'm grounded, I'm sane but I'm overwhelmed

I'm lost but I'm hopeful, baby-

Alanis Morissette's voice was interrupted by the door pushing open violently, and Bella's wet boots stomping on the linoleum. She was angry, that much was easy to read. Her cheeks were flushed, and I could only gather that she had in fact been bombarded with prom invitations. I felt a smirk tug on my lips. "Bad day?" I asked.

Bella put her bag down and began to mix up paints immediately. "Terrible, actually," she replied. I was surprised she would be so open about it, but maybe she was more comfortable talking to me alone. If that was the case, she had worse judgment than I thought. "Do you have a date for the prom?" she asked, making my eyebrows shoot up. "Because if you don't, I've got three wild men that are looking, and I'd happily send them your way."

I laughed out loud, shaking my head at how funny she was when she was irritated. I had thought of her as sweet, adorable, but she had a spark in her. No doubt about that. Before I could reply, she decided to retract her offer, "No, I don't know if you deserve that kind of torture." She gave a chuckle now.

"I appreciate the sentiment. All the same, feel free to push them in my direction. I'm sure they won't take your first no as an answer, but I could really do some damage to their self-esteem and ward them off." I winked at her. I knew for a fact that Mike wasn't going to accept rejection. Nor Tyler. Eric, he was a bit softer. Kinder.

Bella chose her brush, swirling it around to create a similar blue to the one she had used before, and sighed. "They'd be too scared to go near you. You know that, you're intimidating."

My cheeks ached slightly from my smiling, my eyes focusing back on my painting. It had turned into some kind of explosion, lines and patterns and colors splattering from the crack I had made in the canvas the day she walked in. This was not my best work, but I had to admit it was dynamic. "Me? Intimidating?" I asked, feigning some innocence. It got a laugh out of her, so she knew I did indeed know my reputation. She didn't need to know that I could read it in every mind across the cafeteria. All except for hers. "Do I intimidate you?" I dared to add.

I didn't look at her, but I could feel her eyes on me. Like she was studying me, trying to figure out the answer and how to say it. She was thinking, I could tell that much, but I couldn't tune in. "No," she finally replied. As much as I might have been hoping for that answer, a part of me wished the answer had been yes. She would have been smart to be intimidated. It should have been an instinct for her. "At first, maybe. But now, not at all."

I turned my head to look at her now, a raised eyebrow. "What changed your mind?" I didn't ask what had made me intimidating, I knew that already. The first thing she had seen me do was put a brush through a canvas and run away. Her friends had all told her my family's reputation, we had some other-worldly quality to us. It was only natural for the students to both be compelled and put off by us. I had never gotten close enough to any of them to know if their opinions changed, but here was Bella, ready to tell me what gave me away. What made her think I wasn't so scary?

"You're just shy, aren't you? A quiet type, that doesn't scare me," she told me. "You paint. You sit with your brothers and sisters every day. You wear khakis," she gestured to the tan pants I had chosen today with a smile. "And you listen to Alanis Morissette. I don't find that intimidating, oddly enough." I could tell she meant no malice, she was trying to bond with me, to maybe give me some comfort. I wasn't worried about the public's opinion of me, but her observations were interesting. She apparently saw me as a quiet, family-oriented artist. That wasn't how others saw me. Others saw me as a condescending supermodel, or someone who was too intelligent, antisocial. And some of these students had known of me for a couple years now, Bella had only known of my existence for almost a week. She had a different way of thinking. I wished I could hear the process for myself.

I stayed silent for a few moments as I dabbed some yellows onto my warm-toned piece. Which part did I reply to? How did I say, You're wrong, I'm your natural predator, and you should be wise and stay far, far away from me. I suppose that wouldn't fly. "Scary people can wear khakis," is what I ended up on, my smirk the tiniest bit more forced now. "And they can listen to Alanis. Scary people can take many forms, Bella, do not judge a book by its cover even in a positive way." I wagged my finger in a playfully scolding manner. But it seemed to be a lesson that she did need to learn.

She laughed, the sound making my still heart seem to flutter, and scoffed. "Do you want me to be afraid of you? I'm not a great actress." That was no surprise to me. I couldn't hear her thoughts, but whatever her mouth didn't say, her face would say it for her. I was learning to read that instead. If I had to have a preference, though, I didn't want her to be afraid. I would sooner tear myself apart and burn the pieces before I would hurt her.

"It'd be wiser of you, that's all I'll say." I kept the smile, so the words didn't seem so serious, that she could take it as teasing. But it was an honest reply. I hummed along to the new song that played, rather than letting her elaborate on this topic of how frightening I may or may not have been.

The brief silence wasn't awkward, with Suzanne Vega now flooding the air as our brushes worked along the canvas, brushes sloshing in cups of water and wiping against rags. I wasn't even thinking about the warmth I could feel from her, the sound of her heart pumping her sweet blood through her veins. My mind was strong enough to defy the monster in me. I was determined. I listened as she got up from her stool, setting down her brush and taking a couple steps closer to me. Instinctively, cautiously, I held my breath. She was standing behind me, looking over my shoulder.

She was getting more comfortable with me, but the closer she got, my solid confidence wavered. "What does it mean?" Bella asked, innocent. I eyed the mess in front of me. It was nearly at a point where I could call it "complete"; anything so abstract could be complete with just one paintstroke if I deemed it so.

"It...doesn't mean anything." I couldn't explain that I just had an accident, and decided to turn the canvas into a metaphor for what I could do to her. "Just an experiment with textures, colors. But art is all up for interpretation, isn't it? What does it mean to you?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder at her before beginning to blend white into the edges, creating a gradient of deep red to pale yellow.

Bella's head tilted as she got a closer look, her hair brushing against my shoulder blade. I swallowed, feeling saliva pooling in my mouth. Breathe, Edythe. Alice said everything would be fine. So everything will be fine. "It looks...angry. Violent, obviously." She glanced towards my face, then back at the painting. "But it's also quite warm. I like the colors." She shrugged her shoulders, another one of her signature, awkward laughs. "I'm not a great art critic. But it's pretty, it's interesting."

I nodded, "Thank you. I think." I smiled, and took my turn to slip away from her to get a closer look at what she had created. I could see the influence that Bob Ross had had on her, the way her paint strokes came in dabbing motions, and how her colors layered over each other. It was a landscape, which I should have expected. An ocean view over a rocky cliff. "Is there a meaning behind this?" I asked. I was very biased, I knew, but it was a lovely piece. Bella could have done finger-painting in contrasting colors of army green and neon orange, and I would have believed it to be museum quality.

And I'm in so deep. You know I'm such a fool for you.

Bella seemed sheepish to speak of her own art. "It's a gift, more than anything," she clarified. "I'm going to be sending it back to my mom. She told me that when she lived in Forks, when I was a baby, she liked to look out at the ocean when my dad went fishing. He didn't fish from cliffs, of course, but she told me some story about when they were younger, they would jump. I can't imagine my dad cliff diving." She laughed, shaking her head. "Mom…I could see it. But I thought it'd be nice, you know? Probably won't get a lot of display in a Florida house." She shrugged her shoulders, sitting on her stool.

"It should," I argued. "It's lovely. Very well done." I didn't want to pry for more information on her parents. I wished I could just see it, but I was facing a hard reality. People who couldn't read minds had to ask questions, and hope the answers were honest. What kind of hell was that? Or they had to play detective, and piece together tidbits to form assumptions, not even certain truths. That was what I was working to do now. Bella's mother lived in Florida. She had once lived in Forks, across the country. Bella had lived in Arizona with her, so a move had happened. Bella didn't want to go to Florida? I glanced to her pale face; no surprise there. If her mother was a cliff-jumping type, then I could understand why living here with her father was a calmer option. I felt so compelled to ask why her mother had left, why father had stayed, why did they get divorced? I did have some manners left...Or I could just find a way to get close enough to her dad to find the answers myself. No, Bella deserved some privacy. She did have that one defense against me, and I would respect it. Even if it made my marble skin crawl.

My compliment had turned her cheeks that perfect shade of pink that I adored so much. Maybe that was my new favorite color, I would have to try to mix up a match for it. Likely an impossible task. "Thanks. It's really nothing." Modest. Bella was so funny to me. She clearly had a fire in her, a defense, but she did not seem to take pride in herself. That just wouldn't do. If it were socially acceptable, I would drown her in compliments, I would tell her just what she did to me, how she captivated everyone she met.

Being socially acceptable could be so painful.

"It's definitely something, Bella," I countered, but it was gentle. She didn't have to dignify my silly arguing over whether or not she had made a small masterpiece. "I'm eager to see your other work, what you can do for the fundraiser." I smiled, and let her be. I scrawled my signature on the bottom corner of the canvas before sending it to the drying rack. I had no desire to leave, I wanted to see the painting finished. I hopped up gracefully to sit on the counter by the sink, rinsing my brushes and supplies I had used, bouncing my feet to the music.

Bella began to paint again, but she seemed too aware of my presence. I didn't intend to make her uncomfortable, but I saw her eyes glancing my way, she was holding her bottom lip in her teeth, that sweet crease between her brows formed again. I wanted her to relax. She didn't ever need to be relaxed around someone like me, but I wanted her to be. If I had to have her around, she did not need to be tense. All I could think to do was show that I was busying myself, not watching her so closely. I slipped into a seat at a table, pulling out a textbook and pretending to study up on World War I. When I was human, I knew that that had been a goal of mine; to fight. My age and my gender stopped me, along with the protests of my biological mother. The illness had ultimately stopped me. The war died not much longer after I did. As my eyes skimmed the words I'd read possibly over a million times by now, I began to quietly sing along to the playlist my phone was going through.

I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains

I looked to the children, I drank from the fountains.

Esme had had a fondness for this song back then. I'd caught her singing it, both in her head and out loud, for her husband. As I sang my way through another verse and flipped through the pages of my book, I could still feel her looking at me. I closed my mouth and looked up at her through my eyelashes. "I apologize. Am I disturbing you?" I asked.

Bella sputtered a bit, shaking her head and deciding to fuss over some mixing in her palette. "Oh, no. It's just, uh...You're good." She laughed a little, turning to add more strokes to her landscape's clouds. "Is there anything you aren't good at?"

Trust me, Bella, I'm naturally good at anything that will draw you in. It's a predator thing. Instead of saying these words, I laughed. "It would seem I'm not good at modesty. Have I been showing off too much? My mother tells me I'm guilty of that." I winked at her, shaking my head. "There's plenty I'm not good at. I just tend to not do those things." Truthfully, I couldn't think of anything I wasn't good at. I could excel at most anything I tried to do, even if there might have been others in my family that could do them better.

This answer caused Bella to roll her eyes. Was she frustrated with my abilities? I wanted to comfort her, to tell her it was just a fault of my species, but I could tell she wasn't extremely upset. Perhaps just irritated. I could work with irritation. I went back to my quiet singing, and after a few more songs, she stood. "It's done," she decided, stepping back to take another look at the complete work. "Want to see?"

There was nothing I wanted more. I closed my book and went to stand beside of her. Getting so close was still challenging, the desire was there, but the urge to lift a hand and wrap it around her...That was stronger. Interesting, the little human instincts that she was reviving within me. I put my hands, instead, into the pockets of my innocent khakis.

The canvas before me was wonderful. It hadn't changed much since the last peek I got at it, but she had added smaller details. Highlights to the mostly dark clouds, moss to some of the rocky edges. The scene was calming, I could imagine the sounds of the tide that would accompany it. I looked to the bottom to see her signature. Her penmanship was at a lesser level than her painting, but mine was still stuck in the 1900s. Even the way she scrawled her name was charming to me.

"Stunning," I replied, looking down to her with a wide smile. She wasn't much shorter than me, but there was a significant enough difference. I pondered on the contrasts between us as we stood side by side. As well as the height, our bodies were shaped differently. She had soft curves, I had hard, slim lines. She had very light, almost unnoticeable, freckles along the bridge of her nose. I was the same smooth shade of alabaster all over. She was gorgeous in every way that I was not. I had to paint her, that much was decided, but that was a project I would have to pursue in private. Or maybe that was even creepier. It was a project that I would have to work out the logistics of. "Your mother will love it, I'm sure." Otherwise, I'd be happy to pay more for it than what the Mona Lisa would go for at auction, I thought to myself. It was extraordinarily valuable, and I hoped it would be appreciated.

I looked away when her head turned to face me. She was working something out, I could tell that the gears were turning in her brain. What was she wanting to say? What was eating at her? "Thank you," she mumbled again. She carefully picked it up, taking it to a safer place to dry, and began to clean her supplies as well. I watched, waiting. I knew something was coming, but she was keeping me in suspense. Did she not know just how torturous that was?

"Do you wanna go to Seattle with me?" she blurted out, and my eyebrows shot up my forehead. I blinked, waiting for elaboration, which I got in stuttered words. "There's a, um, art exhibit at the Museum of Art this weekend, and it looks,uh, I dunno. It looks cool? And I don't wanna go prom dress shopping with my other friends," she laughed, running her fingers back through her hair.

Bella was asking me to go out of town with her. Alone, one could only assume. I wouldn't make a decision now, I would have to weigh my options with Alice. I'd have to know how likely it was for me to take this beautiful woman into an alley, sink my teeth into her neck, and leave her for dead. It felt unlikely as of right now, but I could never be too confident with her. She was tempting, and I was strong, but that could change. "That sounds really fun," I told her with a small smile. "I'll check with my parents. I'm sure they'd be fine with it, I just don't know if they have anything planned." I knew she was aware of our "family hiking trips," I had heard Jessica Stanley speak bitterly of that fact. "But I'll let you know tomorrow, yeah?"

Her nervous expression turned into a smile, with that pink blush highlighting her cheeks. "Alright, sure." She nodded, gathering her stuff back into her bag. She was about to leave. I could live with that. I got my stuff together too, throwing my bag over my shoulder.

"One condition," I decided as we locked the classroom door behind us and went out into the parking lot. She frowned and looked at me expectantly. "I drive. I shudder to think the amount of gas it would take for that poor truck to go to Seattle and back."

She made a sour face, a slight pout on her lips, but sighed heavily. "That's not your business. But fine, I'll let you drive."

I grinned, walking with her to the old Chevy. "The wasting of finite resources is everyone's business, Bella." I leaned against the hood for a moment while she idly toyed with her keyring. "I'm an excellent driver. Never gotten a ticket." I patted the metal. "I'll see you tomorrow." I promised.

Bella opened her door and hoisted herself up into the driver's seat, nodding. "I'm holding you to that, you know." She gave me her own smirk, though it almost appeared to be a worried grimace. "See you, Edythe."

As I drove closer and closer to home, I could hear the beginnings of a family meeting. I couldn't bring myself to be frustrated by this, yet, for I was walking on air. Bella had me singing in my car consistently now, listening to happy music, smiling so much my cheeks hurt. I would have to argue both sides of the argument on why I should or should not keep interacting with her.

On the one hand, I would tell them, I was still a vampire. I was too strong to touch her the way I wanted to, and too weak to allow her to be so close to me. There was no happy ending for Bella and I. Being with her, as a friend or perhaps more, was not in her best interest. She deserved better. I could agree with everyone there.

But there was an opposing point. I wouldn't get support from all of them, but it didn't matter. It wasn't like I could be stopped in any way that wouldn't bring more attention, and I was too selfish to stay away from Bella.

I was in love with her. I would do anything to protect her, even from myself, and I would work as hard as I could to prevent my natural instincts to be any sort of threat to her. I did not want to live in a world without her anymore. The past ninety years had been too dark. I wanted her light, in whatever capacity she would allow me to have it.

Surely that would be hard to argue with, right?

A/N: As always, thanks to those who have viewed/followed/favorited, and to those who have reviewed! I super appreciate it!

I'm going to start putting the songs mentioned in the notes, there have been too many so far that I want to give proper credit to:

Hand in My Pocket - Alanis Morissette

Closer to Fine - The Indigo Girls

Luka - Suzanne Vega (only the artist is mentioned, but this is what I had in mind)

Linger - The Cranberries

Little Earthquakes - Tori Amos (mentioned in the last chapter)