Author's Note: The characters and settings of Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. The original content, ideas, and plot lines of this story belong to the author. The events in this story are fictional and any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.

Additionally, this story contains subject matter not suitable for minors. Underage drinking, drug use, consensual sex, strong language, abuse, and other adult content may be present in this story. Again, all sex in this story is consensual. If you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable with any of these subjects, please be advised that this story may not be for you.

From this chapter forward, new posts will go up Monday evenings. Mark your calendars. ;)

Thanks be to C. She puts me in my place.

Leading Lady

Chapter 6 - My Soul's Idol

BELLA.

Jacob apparently gets a bit handsy when he's had a few drinks. He's already very touchy-feely with me when he's sober, but he's far more aggressive tonight.

He'd arrived around 10 with his friends Embry and Quil, and the 3 of them are now dominating at beer pong, practically taking up the whole kitchen. After a few rounds of beer pong and a couple of Jessica's jello shots, Jacob - and myself, I confess - is sufficiently drunk.

Rose is off chasing Emmett and as soon as Embry and Quil go out back to smoke a joint, I'm left alone in the kitchen with Jake - well, as alone as one can be at a crowded house party. I'm leaning against the kitchen counter and contemplating making some toast when I feel Jacob's large, warm hand in mine. I'm too drunk to remind him that I don't feel that way about him and I just let his hand stay there. It would require too much energy to push him away so I just slur a hello at him and carry on with standing there.

After a few minutes of what would have been awkward silence, Jacob starts dragging me towards the living room where a few people have started dancing. Jessica has Mike Newton cornered and is flipping her hair at him and whipping him in the face with it. He does not seem pleased. Angela and Eric are in a group of people I vaguely recognize. They seem to be on the verge of actually dancing with each other. Ang smiles at me before giving Jacob a furtive and wary glance. I shrug. What harm is there in dancing? It seems innocent enough.

But when Jacob grabs my hips and starts grinding his crotch into my ass, I suddenly have the dying urge to see how Rose is doing. "I'm going to check on Rose," I shout at Jacob. I know I'm a coward and I should just tell him to keep his filthy paws off me, but I just can't.

I rush around house trying to find her. I need to tell her what Jake just did. And I need her to laugh at it. I can't find her anywhere inside, but I catch a glimpse of her through the front window. She's pushing Emmett off her. I thought she liked him. Whatever.

When I get out there, Rose is barfing into the bushes and Emmett's doing a shitty job of holding her hair back. I nudge him out of the way like I do to Charlie when he's doing a shitty job at something. "I got it, Emmett," I say. "You must be really repulsive." I'm joking but I don't think he gets that.

"Hey, she kissed me," he mutters, and throws his cigarette into the grass. "You want me to break up this party?" he asks, and I nod.

Pretty soon after that I find my face hitting pillows on the couch and I'm out for the night.

The sound of my phone alarm wakes me out of my fitful slumber. I groan and feel around in the crevice of the couch in a vain effort to shut the thing off. By the time I find it, I'm awake enough that I don't even have to hit snooze.

I have to admit to myself that last night was pretty epic. At least for Rose, who is undoubtedly still out cold in my bed upstairs. I'm still wearing the top she forced me into last night. My jeans are in a pile on the floor next to my shoes. I drunkenly threw them off before I face planted into the couch last night. The place is decently clean – I'd made sure of that.

I swing my legs over the edge of the couch and try to sit up. Ugh, I'm hungover. My head throbs a little and I'm very thirsty. Maybe this party wasn't such a good idea. I have to get ready and go to school. More finals. I dread to think of what state Rose is in. I pad upstairs in my thong and top and go to wake her. She's still wearing everything but her heels. I can smell her from the doorway and it isn't cute. School starts in an hour and we both need to shower. I decide to let her sleep for another few minutes while I scrub up.

I move quickly under the spray of water. The heat and steam make me feel a bit better. I wash my hair twice because I know the smell of beer, cigarettes, and Rose's puke really got a chance to set in overnight. I also scrub away the feel of Jacob's breath in my ear.

I turn the water off and go to wake her. I move the hair out of face and briefly consider yelling "boo!" or something, but I know that she must be feeling like utter crap, so I spare her. "Rose, it's time to wake up. School starts in forty-five."

"No," she moans and rolls over.

"Emmett will miss you if you don't show up."

"Okay, I'm up, I'm up." She rolls out of bed and starts toward the bathroom with my blanket still wrapped around her shoulders.

"Hey, I'm going to need that." I grab the covers off her and she shivers. "Just shower and then we'll go, Rose."

The rest of the week passes at a snail's pace. Finals unceremoniously end and winter break begins at long last. I'm not looking forward to an extended break from school too much; I prefer to stay busy, and I don't know when the next time I'll get to see Edward will be. But Charlie is back and all the paperwork is settled. I don't even ask him how his trip was. He doesn't want to talk about it and neither do I.

We have Christmas at the Black's. Things with Jacob are a bit awkward after what happened at the party, but neither of us mentions it. I don't have the energy to tell Jake off. I just feel so tired these days.

The Clearwaters come over too and we eat dinner together and exchange gifts. I give Charlie a new fishing tackle box and one of those funny vests with lots of pockets on the front. He gives me Bevington's Complete Works of Shakespeare and a digital camera. It's too much, but I accept it gracefully.

I'm feeling too down to really try at anything anymore. I can't stop dreaming about Edward. He has utterly consumed my thought and I can do nothing but think of him.

I keep telling myself that I'll feel better once I see him again. But I don't see him over the break at all. He doesn't mow his lawn, or check his mail, or even leave a light on in his house for me to glance him through his window. I start to wonder if he's gone back to... wherever he moved from for the holiday.

The longer I go without seeing him, the more insane I start to feel. I begin to think that maybe if I just lay eyes on him one more time, I'll be able to see him as he truly is and calm down a bit. Maybe he's not as handsome, not as funny, stunning, heart-poundingly beautiful as I think he is. Maybe I've blown him out of proportion in my mind.

The break comes to an end and I can feel myself start to get excited to go back to school. I know the only reason I'm excited is because I want to see Edward. I repress my anticipation and remind myself that I'm an idiot if I think that anything could ever come of my obsession – there, I said it - with Edward.

Nonetheless, I can't stop thinking about him.

Today's the day, I think, as my alarm goes off. Never in my life have I been so excited to go to school. I know it' stupid to be so excited, and it's even stupider to imagine that he could care what I'm wearing. But as I choose my clothes, I feel like I'm dressing for him. I know I'm nothing special; I just want to be seen.

I don't really have any expectations about what will happen. I don't even have the illusion that he will somehow come to the realization that I am the most beautiful and intelligent girl in a 30-mile radius, and that he'll want to be with me in some kind of act of truth and defiance.

But I can't help but dream a little. Maybe if I look just right, he'll notice me, realize how special I am.

I arrive a bit too early for the first day back at school. Rose is getting a ride from Emmett, so I've driven myself. Few other students are already on campus. It's mostly just nerds and underclassmen - the only other people beside myself who are anxious enough to show up so early.

I get out of my truck and try not to look too giddy as I make my way over to the English building. This is it, I keep thinking.

I lean next to the locked door of his classroom, waiting for him to come by. I wanted to be here early enough to politely re-introduce myself and find a good seat. It's a cold January morning and my breath hangs in the air. I snuggle deeper into my coat and try to fight off the chills that I'm sure are not only related to the temperature.

He rounds the corner. His grey peacoat hangs open to reveal a tight royal blue sweater, which he wears over a white shirt and tie. I know I shouldn't be thinking these things, but I can't help but wonder if he'd thought of me while he dressed this morning as well.

"Hey, Bella!" he half-yells as he approaches. Did he just sound excited? He takes a large bundle of keys from his pocket and unlocks the classroom door. He steps inside and gestures for me to follow. The room is warm.

"Do you have assigned seats in this class?" I ask shyly, wondering how my voice sounds to him.

"Nope. Sit anywhere you like."

"Is this one okay?" I ask, pointing to a chair in the front row, to his right.

"Wow. That's amazing. I imagined you'd sit there."

What?

"Cool. Okay, then. I'll take it." I place my book bag on the floor next to my new seat and take my coat off. I've already started sweating, and I'm sure it's not just the warmth of the room that has me heated. His presence is making me nervous. I've imagined this moment so many times, but my stomach is still in knots and I don't know what to do.

We are alone. I suddenly feel very conscious of his eyes on me as I get settled. I can hear the squeak of the dry erase marker on the board as he writes out the homework, but I feel him watching me. Perhaps what I decided to wear is a bit over the top. I want him to notice me, but I don't expect to get this much - however unspoken - attention. I can't decide if I like it or not. Is this a fantasy I really want to come true? I hardly know this man. I feel like I'm being weird.

I hang my coat over the back of my chair and smooth of my jeans as I sit. I cross my ankles and the fabric of my flats rub against each other. It's quiet in the room and I'm highly aware of the sounds that disrupt the silence between us.

"Blue is a nice color for you," he says, and gestures to my shirt before he turns around abruptly and shakes his head. Is he thinking he's gone too far by paying me a compliment? I want to tell him that he looks good in blue, too, but instead I just bite down on my bottom lip.

Just then Mike Newton and Jessica Stanley come in the room. I can hear Jessica's shrill whine from across the room. I smirk to myself, thinking about the party at my house. Maybe Mike was too drunk that night to remember how truly obnoxious Jessica was being. They're discussing Crime and Punishment.

Great. I'd started to read that book in Mr. Cope's class last semester. I hadn't understood it. Why was that guy so anxious and sweaty all the time? I hope that Edward has planned his lessons so that I won't be forced to finish it now. Nonetheless, I still have it in my book bag. I pull it out, along with a notebook and my favorite pen. I try to look like a good student as I arrange my things neatly on my desk and wait for the other students to arrive.

As I stare blankly at the cover of my book, trying not to think about the mounting weekly hours I'll spend with this glorious man, Angela suddenly plops down in the desk next to mine.

"Whoa. Hey. You're in this class now?" she asks, seeming glad to see me.

"Yeah. Um, I used to have English 3rd period, but I wanted to take Drama Lit and that's during 3rd period too, as you know," I babble. "So… here I am." I smile at her.

"That's great. I think we're about to start reading Death of a Salesman, and nothing's worse than reading a play in a room full of people who don't understand theatre. At least you and I can suffer through the bad acting together."

"Sounds like a plan." As glad as I am to know someone to talk to in this class, I'm worried that Angela will be able to see right through me. Would this crush be obvious? "Are you guys still reading C and P?"

"Hmm?"

"Um, Crime and Punishment. Have you guys finished it yet?"

"No, but we're actually supposed to start it this week. Good thing you brought your copy. Smart girl."

"Thanks," I scoff.

This is going to be more difficult than I thought. Well, maybe the torture of re-reading this atrocity will take my mind off of his perfect jaw line, the way his neck slopes into the collar of his shirt, his deep green eyes...

Edward throws his book loudly onto his desk. I snap out of it.

"Okay, guys. I hope you had a fun and safe winter break." I can't help but smile at the idea that he cares that we were safe. But it also makes me want to roll my eyes. What did he think we'd been doing? Doing coke and racing cars? "This semester's going to be a little tougher. We've got a lot of serious reading, and we'll also be preparing you to take the Advanced Placement test at the end of the semester. That means in-class essays every Friday." The entire class groans in unison. "Hey guys, be nice. Don't put this all on me," he says, holding his hands up in a show of innocence.

Despite the prospect of weekly essays, today's class drifts by easily. Never before has an hour seemed so short. Suddenly, the bell is ringing and I'm packing up my things.

"So," a warm, manly voice addresses me, "how's your first day going?"

"It's good," I reply, unable to think of anything else to say.

"That's it? Good?" he teases.

"Yeah. Um, actually, I've got a writer's cramp. I don't think I've ever taken so many notes in my life."

"Well, don't burn yourself out. You've got a whole semester of my torture left." I blush at his words. Torture. Exactly. But it won't just be because of him; this stupid book has a part to play too. "You seem a bit stressed. Is everything okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just… no offense, but I really hate Crime and Punishment. We started reading it in Mr. Cope's class last semester and I just don't see what's to like about this weirdo. So, I'm trying to take in as much as I can. Hence, the notes." I smile. I think that's the most I've ever spoken to him at one time.

"Okay, well, if you're really struggling, or if you just want to chat about why I think this book is so cool, stop by my office any time." My heart hammers. I feel like he's just asked me out on a date.

"Thanks. I think I will."

I walk slowly to my Music Theory class, mulling over the last hour in my head. This is stupid. I feel like I'm making so much out of so little. Was I imagining it when I saw him look up from his grade book and smile at me when I'd sneezed? Was it possible that he'd just accidentally dropped a notecard in front of my desk? When he was stooping for it, did I hear him whisper my name?

No. This is impossible. And ridiculous. Here's a man, an adult man. He has a life. He won't go home after school and google my name. He won't analyze what I'd said today. He won't feel his stomach twist and lose his appetite when he thinks of me. He won't think of me at all.

He'll probably drive his fancy Volvo back to his house and kick his shoes off by the door. He probably has a whole fancy life full of adult fancy friends. He probably has a routine of driving out to Port Angeles to meet women for dates... Maybe he's married.

God! I banish the image from my head. I can't think of him in his real life. He exists so perfectly in my fantasy.

The one in which he sits at his desk and waits for me. Every time he hears the door open, his head jerks up, hoping that it's me coming in. His face drops whenever he sees that it isn't me slipping in through the door, gliding toward him...

I spend the hour of Music Theory shifting uncomfortably in my plastic chair, trying to forget the fact that I'll be facing Mr. C again soon...

"Bella. You're up."

"Huh? Me?"

"Yeah. Get up here."

Shit, what does Mrs. Meyer want? I turn to Angela. She's jabbing her finger at a page of sheet music. Scales. Okay, let's do this.

I stand in front of the class as apparently the rest of the students have already. My stomach churns with unfamiliar nerves. Usually getting up in front of a group is no big deal, but this time I feel lost. Had I been paying attention, I'd have known what was going on. I wouldn't be feeling this way. I clear my throat as I place myself next to the piano.

"B flat major," she announces and hits a black key. "When you're ready."

I run though the scale easily and put my head down as I walk back to my seat. If this is any example of how my day is going to go, I'm in trouble. I know it's stupid to drift away from real life into fantasies. I have to pull myself together and quit slacking off. Focus is going to be the key this semester.

A few more students go through their scales and the bell rings. I gather my things and Angela and I head out into the hallway. We look at each other and sigh.

Fifteen minutes until Drama Lit...