A/N: Hi all. I am so sorry the long wait. I really hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks Fran for helping me with the edits.
PLEASE feel free to share your thoughts and you are welcome to message me if you are unsure about anything. Thanks :-)
DISCLAIMER: ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO STEPHENIE MEYER.
Always I remember you
Slow down so I can follow you
And you, such a fearless soul
Disarmed me by truth, and broke my mold
Always I remember you
Slow down and try to tell the truth
And I know I'm just a coward when it comes to love
Disarmed by words, like an old white stain
Goodbye my deeper child
Time to break down your barricades
And follow your own heart now
Always I remember you
Slow down, and try to tell the truth
Always I can recall you
Can you slow down so I can follow you?
Deep down you said I'm a coward when it comes to love
Deep down your words changed my mold
Deep down you said I'm a coward when it comes to love
Deep down your barricades changed my mold
Always by Panama
Chapter 6
BPOV
I'm picturing deep blue oceans and murky seas, with charcoal eyes invading my wondrous dreams.
A shadow, rebellious and rowdy
A soul, troublesome and taunting
A heart, passionate and persistent
A mind, dangerous and daunting
And that's just Edward Cullen. He shines too bright for this world and that is exactly why people cover their eyes in his presence.
But I am shielded-shaded-immune to this boy.
I'm on the outside and I'm looking in.
I am in a land of fantasy and fairy tales where hearts are whole and love is a revolution.
Until it's time to wake up and face a new day with endless possibilities.
Drenched in sweat from unclear dreams, I enter consciousness with my fists clenched to cotton sheets.
Whispering, "It was just a dream," I sit up briefly and twist my sticky hair into a high bun. Dismissing morning prayers, I lay awake, staring up at my ceiling that homes sixteen, glow in the dark stars and hearts. My room is childlike and dolled up. With floral bedspreads, wallpaper and curtains, I suddenly feel like my life needs change.
Blowing tenacious tendrils with my morning breath, the dreaded sound of my alarm clock filters through my sensitive eardrums, screaming the start of a new day. The dim rays of sunlight peekthrough my blinds and I immediately rush out of bed and approach the window.
Howling wind marks the end of what was left of warmer days but my mind is occupied with one thing, and one thing only.
Shortly after my internal pity party, I begin my structured morning ritual. I straighten my sheets, prepare my book bag, and then head to the shower where I wash away polluted thoughts that whispered hope.
Because last night I dreamt of something amazing.
Only, reality screams it was a nightmare.
Realising that I am in need for some drastic changes, I begin straightening long brown waves to perfection. I run my hands through the silky smooth strands, pout my lips and decide to experiment with my sealed, makeup box that hasn't yet seen better days.
Today I'm plaid skirts and knee length white shiny Mary-Janes complete my Catholic schoolgirlattire and my appearance is contradicting innocence.
Today I'm poison-toxic-deadly.
Today I'm just Bella.
It's Monday morning, it's raining and cloudy and the sky is grey. I rush down the stairs, welcomed by the usual morning aroma of pancakes and golden syrup. A glass of orange juice waits at the breakfast bar, accompanied by an empty white plate waiting to be filled.
My mother is humming sweet symphonies as she stands in front of the stove, preparing the sunrise menu. I sneak up behind her andenclose my arms around her tiny waist.
She smells like roses mixed with sweet fruits. Her shoulder length hair tickles my nose, so I pull back and whisper, "Good morning, Ma."
Turning around with a wide grin, life giver'smouth travels from upright smiles to disapproving frowns.
"Good morning, Isabella. Don't you think that skirt you're wearing is abittoo short?" She brushes my cheek, adding, "And since when do you wear make-up?"
Since Edward Cullen wants nothing to do with me.
"My other skirts are in the laundry, Mom." I take a deep breath, tugging my skirt down, but the extended length makes no difference. "I'm becoming so pale…I just thought a little blush would brighten up my face."
"I did the laundry on Saturday." She shakes her head, recalling past events.
"I left my uniforms in my locker at the dance studio. I'm sorry." I look down, breathing excuses of my intentions.
With a slight smile, Rene brushes my loose strands over my shoulder. Her deepest fear is losing another child and that's exactly what she wants to tell me.
She won't.
Instead, the woman who acts as if she never gave birth to a son, twenty years ago, breathes in deep and says, "You're beautiful. Don't ever doubt yourself."
I nod, mumbling thank you and take a seat infrontof my now filled plate.
In between stuffing my post-risen grumbling stomach, my father walks into the kitchen as I am mid-spoonful.
"Good morning." The pastor greets and unlike me, he thanks God for another day on this earth.
Every second word that the pastor voices haveJesus-God-Hallelujah added to it. It's annoying and he needs to stop.
I think my father is dramatic, superficial, and a coward in his lack of ability to acknowledge the existence of someone he once created. But I'll probably never tell him my views of his beliefs.
For someone who lays people to rest, celebrates life, and prays for eternal love and forgiveness, Charlie Swan has managed to perfect denial.
My thoughts will always return to my brother.
Wherever I go and whatever I do, he will forever pop up in my mind, andI hate that nobody else wants his soul to live on.
Nobody, besides Edward.
And that is why we have that connection; that pull, acontinuous bond that not even time can destroy.
I can feel myself slipping, travelling away from the perfect path my parents have prepared for my future.
With my father's preaching words, I return my gaze to my plate and release the softest sigh of "I give up."
Charles doesn't comment on my appearance. Instead, his permanent smile turns into a scowl as he takes in his only daughter. With vibrant features faltering for just a second, the head of this household continues his morning with pleasance.
The truth is I want to be noticed.
I want to be wanted.
But most of all, I want to be accepted.
And my parents are incapable of giving me what I want.
In between the morning routines that commence beneath the roof of the Swan residence, my parents leave for their respective jobs and then there's me.
I walk towards the mirror, loosening the second button from my crispy white sure that my knee-highsare level, I am face to face with the girl I used to know. Twirling soft tendrils of brown around my fingers, I pinch my cheeks and allow empty visions to linger on the reflection that idealises perfection.
Grabbing my backpack and car keys, autumn rain settles on my uncovered figure, and I immediately regret spending so much time straitening my waves.
Because turning to my left, has become second nature to me. I peek, hidden behind dampening hair but all I see are familiar empty surroundings.
The usual disappointment hits me in the gut and I remember the last time I saw him.
My heart beats, my palms become moist, and my cheeks redden. The last time I saw Edward, he had his tongue shoved down the hottest girl's throat. They were rapid and needy and I hated it.
And then he looked at me. Milo's stare is indescribable and undeniable. It draws you in and swallows you whole.
It doesn't let go.
So ofcourse I ran off.
I cried and I hurt.
I'm still hurting.
Because I wasn't ready to see him happy.
Our time together was put on hold and our last words whispered should have been so long. They were never supposed to be goodbye.
Realising that my darkening thoughts are absolutely ridiculous, I rush towards my car and turn on the ignition. The twenty-minute drive to school takes thirty minutes today because I'm literally travelling in slow-mo.
When I arrive at St. Mary's just after 8 a.m.,the school is littered with vibrant females, doing what they do best.
Because I am the student body president, I am allowed to park my car in the teachers' bay, so I drive through the crowd until I reach my destination.
Two sets of waving females wait for me on the steps. They're happy and welcoming, so I approach my girls with ease.
Angela and Kate are my closest friends. We have what you call a platonic friendship. We appear when needed and nothing more. Angela's family is as equally religious as my own, and, therefore, our friendship was destined.
I don't ever mention my personal life to anybody, and the girl within me that smiles brightly as I get near them isthe only person they know.
"Bella!" A squeaky call sounds my name.
"Angela." I giggle, opening my arms to welcome the embrace of a girl who thinks we share secrets.
Kate greets me, and for the next five minutes, I listen in on what my girls have been up tothis weekend.
High teas, shopping and grand lunches occupied their time, and I find myself groaning.
Until all eyes are on me.
"So what have you been up to?" Kate questions. She's pretty and tall and I can picture her leading a Victoria Secret runway show after she graduates. Her plaid skirt is a lot shorter than my own, and as the student body president, I should point that out to her.
I won't.
Instead, I shrug and voice, "I went to church."
Tearing off her Ray Bandshades, Kate chuckles and says, "You're always at church. Didn't you see Mikey boy?"
"Yeah. I saw him at church." I nod and then enter the school building with them following behind. Students wave, calling my name and some ask me how I am. I welcome their attention because I know where Kate is going with this conversation.
"You're dating for like a year now, right?"
"Eight months." I correct, retrieving my phone to text my mom, informing her that I've arrived at school without a scratch.
"Eight months." She repeats with a mischievous smile. "Have you guys finally done the deed?"
Taking a deep breath, I whisper, "We're Christians Kate. Marriage is actually in our cards you know."
Angela butts in laughing, followed by, "Oh come on, Bella, even I know Mike totally wants to do you."
Feeling embarrassed and totally unprepared for the interrogation, I try to ignore their comments.
"You guys, the bell is going to ring soon. I gotta go."
"Oh come on? Don't be like that," Kate pouts. "Atleast let him finger you!" She yells down the hallway. And this is the part of our friendship where I pretend that I don't know who she is.
The remainder of the school day goes by fast. I head straight to dance practice after school, followed by teaching the orphaned kids ballet where my mother works.
I get home just after 6 p.m. and I'm thankful that I was excused from Bible study group this evening because I have to start studying for midterms.
We have dinner together as a family, vegetarian pasta with Greek salad.
"Isabella, your mother tells me that the little girls at the orphanage just love having you around." A proud pastor smiles and I return his look of approval.
"They are quite special, Dad." I nod, taking another spoon full. I can't help but smile to myself because I really love helping those girls.
"Now that we are all seated together, I just thought that I should remind you of our trip to Ethiopia next week." My mom says sweetly, giving unknown reason to the work that she does best.
"When do you leave again?" I frown, placing my fork down. The last time I checked, my father wasn't sure if he could go along with her. As my mother organises adoption work, my father lingers around and throws in some missionary work, converting people to the Christian faith.
"On Saturday…" My mother says, directing an unsure gaze to her husband.
"Don't you want to go?" I ask, concerned.
"No…no it's not that, Honey." Daddy clears his throat.
"What is it then?" I continue.
"It's just that we are concerned about leaving you alone, especially now that you're going to be busy with midterms."
Laughing a sound of relief, I gather up my thoughts and say, "I'm eighteen. I honestly don't mind staying here alone, Dad. And I really think you should go with Mom."
Doubtful Daddy continues to feed mouthfuls of pasta into his system. I watch-wait-wonder, and then he voices, "Well, my visa was approved, and the flight is already booked."
Searching the expressions of two people seated before me, I frown and ask, "So that means you're going with Mom?"
My mother clears her throat, possibly trying to maintain order because she doesn't want me to get ahead of myself. If this were last year, my grandmother would come and stay with me, but her health isn't exactly on her side.
"Yes. I just wish Gran was well enough to come and stay with you." Rene looks down, worrying about her ageing mother.
Atleast Gran lived her life, long and happy and complete. She didn't die an innocent teenager who still had so much youth to live.
She still breathes.
And just like that, my thoughts fall to Benji.
The boy I can never let go of.
"So does that mean I get to stay alone? You know I'm responsible." I blink, I glare and I question without words as I wait for the responses of two people who wish they could save the children of this world. They couldn't save their own son and that is exactly why they are engrossed in a new life of helping others.
"Well yes, ofcourse. But don't think we won't be checking up on you." Charlie teases, but he's actually quite serious.
"And how do you plan on doing that?" I snort surprised at my own daring words.
"We have people from the church and my colleagues at the orphanage that will be coming to make sure you're okay." My mom clarifies and I do believe her.
"You guys will be gone for a total of fourteen days. Trust me; I can take care of myself." I ensure with some continuous hint of bravery. I can tell my parents are struggling to adapt to my impending independence.
"Fifteen days, just so that we're clear." Mom places her fork down and grips her bony fingers onto a napkin. I don't say anything further, but a part of me cannot wait for our two weeks of separation.
Once dinner is complete, I help Mom clear the table and wash the dishes – manually, if I may add. When I walk into the living room to close the curtains, I allow myself to linger for longer than I should. Edward's car is still not at home and I wonder where he could be.
The week goes by pretty fast and when I look again, it's Friday evening. Rene and I are at the grocery store, on a mission to stock up the house with as much food supplies during their absence.
As my mother stands in the health aisle, glaring at the ingredients behind a rice cake package, I walk over to the nutritional bars and place assorted chocolates into the cart.
Preoccupied and consumed in my own world, I feel a light tug on my loose cream jersey. With an immediate gasp of unawareness, I turn around and meet the toothy smiles of Emily. Her hair is a mess and she is licking pink sherbet off its wrapper.
"Emily." I greet, my grin reaching its maximum.
"Hey, Bella." She meets my gaze and continues to devour the powdery candy that I'm sure she isn't going to pay for.
"Who are you here with?" I look around and my heart immediately falls, because what if Edward is with her.
But why would he be? I recall as his car has been missing all week. Hearing forced laughter;I turn to my side and watch as Esme stands with her fingers gripped onto her overflowing cart, admiring the words of my mother.
Gently touching her shoulder, I motion for Emily to walk over with me to where our parents are standing.
"Hey, Esme," I smile. I'm nervous taking her in. The woman before me has aged so much since a month ago when she relocated to Fairview.
Her usually put together demeanour is bridging on chaotic. She stands with tight jeans and a huge hoody, possibly belonging to her son, with an untidy bun placed on top of her head.
"Bells, come here my angel." She walks towards me with open arms. I meet her welcoming actions and hold onto the woman who gave birth to one of the most important people in my life. "I came over on Sunday to thank you for watching Emily, but you were out. Your mom tells me you were busy all week."
I smile again as my mother nods, confirming her excuses. I wasn't busy all week.
"Oh, it's really no problem. Edward took over when he got home." I look down, silently beating myself up for rattling too much information.
Mom looks at me with a frown, and Esme giggles nervously. Something tells me I'm not the only one who hasn't seen her son all week.
"Yeah, well thanks again. Carlisle insisted on buying you that mocha latte coffee that you had at our house." She smiles and I am afraid to look at my mother.
"Caffeine is not good for the heart Isabella." My mother's false words play through my mind and I know I'll be checked like a child once Esme is out of sight.
My suspicions are correct because I am scolded all the way out of the store until we arrive at home.
"Coffee! You drank coffee? I knew you shouldn't have gone over there." Words like those escape my overbearing mother, and I don't know where I find the strength to keep it together.
"I'm sorry." I look down, waiting for her to unlock the front door. While my arms are gripped around brown paper parcels, she continues to correct my wrongs.
And it is exactly at times like these when I miss my brother the most. Because if he were still alive, I wouldn't be treated like an eight-year-old child living in an eighteen-year-old body.
Dad appears in the doorway and walks towards the car, collecting additional parcels from the trunk. I don't stay behind and help him. Instead,I make up excuses about needing to pee.
In my moment of frustration, I realise that I forgot to check if Edward's car was in the driveway, so without realising it, I rush out of the bathroom and back out the door.
Again,I am left disappointed. Esme's car pulls up and she waves over. Familiarity plays through her eyes as she's just seen us twenty minutes ago.
My father is walking back towards the front door with the last couple of groceries in his hand, he kisses me on the cheek and whispers, "Don't allow Mom to upset you."
I smile in response, and instead of going back inside, I walk next door.
Because I am weak, I am needy; I am missing somebody that shouldn't be back in my life.
"Bells, howdy girl? Carlisle's infectious smile catches me off guard, and my mood jumps from low to high.
"Hey." I wave my hand awkwardly. I offer to help him carry some parcels, and I immediately turn my back to see if my mother has come outside to look for me.
"Bella, wanna come watch me swim?" Emily's jumping off the porch, ignoring the steps. I look up briefly, wondering why she would want to swim on an autumn evening.
"Aren't you cold Em?" I question and she shakes her head.
Grabbing my hand to pull me towards their house, I hesitate, but then I remember why I came over in the first place.
I walk up the familiar steps that lead into a modern living room. Esme really managed to change this place around, judging by all the new furniture.
I come to an immediate halt when Sarah rounds the corner; she's barefoot and chewing on celery sticks.
"Baby Bee's in the house." Crazy aunt teases and I roll my eyes because I missed her.
She pulls me into a hug and I find myself gripping on to the little pieces of acceptance these people deliver.
"Where's Esme?" I ask after our short conversation of "how are you? How's school? Any boyfriends?"
Just as I am about to enter the kitchen, Esme appears from down the hall. Her jeans are replaced with yoga tights, and she neatened her hair.
"Bella!" She smiles and I feel so damn out of place. Edward definitely isn't at home and I think she knows why I am really here.
"Esme, I just wanted to apologise for how my mom reacted in the store. She just has the intense hatred towards coffee for some unknown reason and I really…" While in mid-sentence, Esme cuts me off with a look of understanding.
"Ah, don't worry about it Bells. Glad to see your mom's still fucked up." Her words release unconsciously, and after realising her little spill, she covers her mouth in horror.
I lift up my hand and insist that her words were not taken personally.
"Well, I am really sorry. I shouldn't have been so crude." She apologises and I guess now is the time for me to turn around and walk away.
As I say goodbye and exit the kitchen, Esme grabs onto my hand and looks at me with concern.
"He hasn't been home since Sunday, Bella." A look of hurt and concern appears on her once youthful face, and I will never understand her amount of worry.
"Are you refereeing to Edward?" I clarify, and then add, "Where…where is he then?"
With shrugging shoulders and empty stares, a mother who has almost lost complete control of her only son looks on the verge of giving up.
"I never actually know where he is. He did, however, send me a text to say that we shouldn't worry and that he is safe." She snorts, and immediately goes back to her I-don't-care persona.
"I'm really sorry to hear this Esme." My eyes meet the floor and I don't know how to conceal my own worry and disappointment anymore.
"I'm telling you this because I heard you outside the other night, Bella. I just want you to know that Edward isn't the person he was three years ago. I don't want to see you get hurt." Esme touches my shoulder lightly, and with pleading eyes, I finally get what she means.
"I just missed him," I admit, but there's so much more to just missing him.
"I know angel. He will come around. Edward's a grown man now, he isn't a kid. He lives at home because he has no other choice, but aside from that I cannot stop him from anything."
I nod, followed by my final farewell.
When I get home, Rene is all forgiving and forgetting. I help her pack her suitcases, and we sip on Earl Grey tea as we go over their itinerary.
I fall asleep at around midnight with my head facing the window.
My heart jumps at every sound of a car.
Every sight of head lights.
Every feeling of hoping.
But he doesn't show.
I wake up Saturday morning, recovering from a night of tossing and turning.
Reaching for my phone, I discover a couple of missed calls from Mike, followed by a text.
My boyfriend.
MIKE: Good morning Sunshine. Can't wait to see you this afternoon. Call me. I love you.
Guilt sets in, as I realise that the words displayed on the screen don't affect my heart as it should. I don't know why I am experiencing a sudden absence of feelings for a boy who was there for me and who didn't give up on bringing me happiness.
I understand that there is no place for fairy tales and a prince charming in the real world, but Mike allows me to feel that fraction of fantasy. He was a chance encounter that threw me off the rails of my destined placement.
He gave me a brief moment of hope.
As I am about to text him back, I hear a car door shut from outside, and I make a world-breaking exit from my bed to my window.
It's an unconscious reaction that I've mastered from a week of repetitive movements.
Pushing the drapes aside, I almost choke on the momentary relief that settles in my heart.
Edward, looking flawless and with zero cares in this world, approaches his front porch with a black bag draped over his shoulder.
I am lip biting and heart pounding, witnessing his effortless trek. Not realising that I longed so much for his return, I take a forced step back from my window.
As relief continues to set in, my mother appears in my doorway.
"Good morning. I see you're up. We will be leaving at noon, honey."
Knowing that I've been caught red-handed, I walk towards my mother and step into a quick hug.
"Good morning. Yeah, I'll be done and ready to drop you at the airport."
She nods, hesitates, and for the first time I think my mother actually identifies the hidden pain beneath my eyes.
She doesn't say anything, terrified of stepping into a forbidden zone. So she does what she does best, she walks away.
And I let her.
When I return to the window, Edward is no longer outside.
Ofcourse.
I linger around for a little while, hoping to catch a glimpse of him from somewhere inside his house.
But this isn't the movies. The Cullens actually close their drapes, and no, Edwards's bedroom isn't conveniently situated across from my own.
I sigh and then walk back to my phone to finally text Mike.
I feel guilty, so I play the part of the perfect girlfriend, adding an extra heart to his awaiting response.
He believes me because that is what good boyfriends do.
They trust, they never doubt.
They agree, they never question.
I think back to how things were with Edward. Although there existed a time when we were young-naïve-inexperienced, he always doubted me. He always questioned.
For the remainder of the morning, I get up to my usual Saturday morning chores. The sun shines brightly and I feel that I need to jog to clear my mind.
Throwing on yoga tights and a loose sweater, I step into my Nike trainers and yell out that I'll be jogging.
When I exit the front door, I finally experience the ultimate moment of relief. As if I felt smothered under my own roof, I breathe in the morning air and appreciate the silent gifts that God delivers to humanity.
With birds chirping, cars driving, lawns hosing, and neighbours posing, I begin to stretch until my body comes to an immediate halt.
Because I think I know what is going to happen.
Unsure of what I could be hearing, I bring my hands up to my forehead and shade my eyes from the blinding sun. I grip onto my iPod while the earplugs hang loosely around my moistening fingertips. As always, I avert my gaze to the house next door. I can feel the hope releasing from every exhale, and suddenly, I'm grinning to myself.
Because now, I just know.
And just like the brightness of the rays that shine ahead, I hear his voice travel across the fence.
Soft-smooth-possessing, he seeks the attention of another. And it's enough for me to know that he is near. Milo is safe and untouched and he might not be going anywhere.
With a thumping heart and sweaty palms, I move closer-further-faster until he sees me. He has no choice but to breathe me in and accept my intrusion. Our eyes lock, and although he pulls me in, he also wants me to step away.
But I am fast and determined and suddenly feeling an influx of joy and energy because finally I can speak to him.
"You're back." Two innocent words slip from my mouth, and he watches me with amusement. Thoughts about how pathetic I am keep appearing in my conscious, but I shove it away with exacerbated internal dialogues.
That brief moment when all I witness was a misunderstood boy, vulnerable, and at his best, is swiftly replaced with a frown, accompanied by deafening silence.
Swallowing deeply, I somehow manage not to panic, and instead I divert my attention to his figure. Dressed in casual, grey track pants and a black hoody, my brother's best friend stands facing me, possibly clenching his fists, which are hidden in his pockets.
I have no idea where he comes from, or even if he heard my question, but with flaring nostrils and an unruly mop of hair, the town's rebel moves closer-closer. We are fences apart, but that didn't stop us before.
Involuntarily, Milo meets me half way. And then, he stops in mid-motion,realising that the closer he steps, the more permanent his indecisions may rest. I don't object or reject to his advances, I call him in with silent tones of nothing.
So with a slight smirk, trouble nods, slowly but surely.
Because he is back.
And I want to cringe with the amount of confusion he creates in my perfectly constructed life.
We are momentarily stuck in a place where running away isn't an option I hold out my hand, waiting patiently for my touch of heartbreak and reality.
And with shut eyelids, I feel the grip of strength, accepting my plea.
"What are you doing?" He whispers, and reality is back.
"Greeting you." I respond without hesitation. And even though I am falling apart from the inside, he doesn't need to know that.
"With a handshake?" I receive a lifted eyebrow and a look of playfulness. This pathetic heart flutters and I want to smack myself and push him away.
With our fingers still connected, I realise that there is no spark or electric current. It's just my autumn-cool hand connecting with his swollen knuckles.
My eyes immediately jump to our entwined hands, and then he pulls away. The sudden loss of contact is the part in our encounter when I realise that although I didn't feel much of a spark, there was warmth and comfort and safety.
The three pivotal aspects that I lack from human contact.
Swallowing deeply, I shake my head and say, "I don't know why I did that." I'm embarrassed and flustered and I think he may use it against me.
As we remain glaring at eachother, I hear a commotion at the front door, and out walks my father with a humongous suitcase.
Huffing and puffing, the pastor is out of breath. Regretting my decision but knowing that it is the right thing to do, I rush over and offer my father my assistance.
"Dad, let me help you," I state placing my iPod onto the rim of my mother's crafty clay pot.
"No, Bella. I'm okay." He says taking a deep breath while he stands in his signature position with his hands gripping his lower back.
Just as I am about to turn around, I collide, face to face with Edward. He smirks, and gently grips onto my shoulder, manoeuvring me to the side.
"Mr. Swan. Need some help?" Milo offers and I'm left stunned, because come on, who is this polite person?
Charles Swan's empty scowl is quickly replaced with an odd look. "Edward. Glad to see you finally came out of hibernation." With now crossed arms, the two men in my peripheral regard eachother. My father lives to accept and that is the very reason he doesn't look down on the boy who doesn't know how to look up.
With a smirk, Milo's grey gaze lands on me, and then very slowly he answers Charlie. "Wasn't hibernating, just didn't feel like making an appearance. So how about that help?"
I realise that my presence isn't needed and without giving my father any ideas, I step backwards down the porch and say, "Dad, I better start my jog. But don't worry; I'll be in time to drop you and Mom off." And with that, I look toward Edward with a smirk. I catch his mischievous look of discovery, and suddenly I know I will be seeing a lot more of him.
With my iPod blasting to the sound of classic rock, I drum my feet against the cement pavement and jog away with courage.
Because I know, Edward Cullen is watching my back.
5 Years Ago
It's summer and I'm thirteen and I have nothing to do.
Sitting with my legs spread out on the front porch, my bare feet massage against the cobble stoned pathway, creating a rhythmic pattern. With red, chipped nail polish painted on my toenails, I flick my freshly cut hair from side to side.
Mom decided that I needed a change, but I'd call it a distraction. I guess she needed her ordinary to be an extraordinary. With Benji back in the hospital, my parents spend every free moment at his bedside, forgetting that they have a daughter at home.
Continuing to mess around with my hair, I lean my head forward until it's practically falling into my lap. The curtain of waves that fall around my face conceal my flustered cheeks from the beaming afternoon sunlight. My usual,waist long hair is now cropped past my shoulder and I wish I didn't cut it.
Bobbing my head back and forth, I hear familiar footsteps approaching.I sigh in irritation and roll my eyes before hearing the snarky words from a boy I despise. With the sound of a bouncing ball echoing through my eardrums, I feel the hard rubber connect with my shoulder.
I don't say anything, refusing to give Milo the satisfaction of hearing my complaints. I don't get why he always picks on me.
Recovering from about three eye rolls, I create a symmetrical pathway between the hairs hiding my face, and finally look up with a sarcastic smile.
Dressed in ripped denim shorts and a black sweater that reads, DEAD TO ME in splattered bloody print, I cringe as my brother's best friend challenges my stupor.
"You look like you belong in an asylum, Bellarina." Milo's voice is cocky and suddenly I'm on my feet.
"Well…well you look like you belong in a mortuary, Ed-WEIRDO." I spit back, emphasising in a mocking tone as my pointed fingers poke his chest.
Stepping closer, the boy who drives me to the brink of madness grabs a handful of my hair and twists it around his fingers with force.
I immediately push him back with my fists connecting to his stomach. I regretfully realise that our ups-and-downs and merry-go-rounds are the only reality existing in my life. Although my physical response is pushing him away, deep down I crave his attention in any form I can get.
Stumbling back and caught off guard, Milo uses the opportunity to pick up his ball and again, he throws it in my direction but this time he misses me.
"Stop! Just stop!" I yell, rushing to grab hold of the basketball before he targets me again. Of course, this boy beats me to the chase and I find myself wrestling a crazy voice-breaking teenager to the ground.
With pushing and shoving, I can tell that he is playing around and determined to get on my last nerve. The thrill that overcomes me introduces strength that I had no clue I possessed.
Finally, I win, or maybe he just stops our pointless wrestling match to observe my victorious reaction. I bounce the ball a couple of times on the concrete paved driveway, and one-two-three forceful leaps later, I throw the ball towards his face. Hearing the fractious contact as ball meets face, I exhale deeply as my hands rest on my knees.
I don't have to look up to know that I've pissed him off, but to my surprise, when my eyes meet his figure, the boy next door is grinning like a girl.
"Whoa, didn't know you had some spunk." Milo whistles in admiration. His tanned skin displays a touch of a heated flush and I somehow haven't noticed that unique detail about him.
For someone who appears hard on the exterior most of the time, this boy was blessed with a natural blush, and it is an innocent hint that a softer side exists behind the warrior he tries to be.
Dusting remnants of grass off my hair, I meet his smile and there's something so pleasant about this moment. Because for once, I am being heard.
Somehow I realise that I've found an equal match to the company I seek. We're both just two people searching for something-anything, because,at this moment we are nothing.
Edward walks towards the steps that I once occupied and he pats the vacant spot next to his slouched down figure. Resting on his elbows, he nods his head towards the open area when he senses my resistance. Blowing the mess of hair out of my face, I go and take the seat beside him. Thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder, we are just two kids missing our equal.
With shoulder nudging and innocent guessing games of I-spy-with-my-little-eye, we unconsciously consume each other's time.
Of course, he cheats, and it takes me forever to guess the objects around me. We return to our usual bickering, but it's our place of comfort and I wouldn't ask for any other way.
I notice how my brother's best friend looks at me. His expression soft, his presence, comforting. He regards me with intent, and something about his disarming glare pollutes my skin with goose bumps.
My heart kinda patters, my cheeks turn red, and I shake my head at the unusual feeling overcoming me.
I spend the afternoon with a stupid-stupid boy, discussing everything but nothing at all. We don't mention Benji and something tells me that this moment between us was reserved just to forget. Even though we argue and bicker, and jump at each other's throats, we also fill our moments with laughter, joy and tranquillity.
When Milo mentions that he needs to head home, I beg him not to go.
"I'll see you tomorrow." He assures, but I can tell it is a lie.
I find myself stepping infront of him whispering, "Promise you will come back tomorrow?"
He nods and turns to leave, so I grab onto his arm and dammit, I'm needy.
"What do you want Bella? Don't get all freaky on me just because I gave you the time of day."
"That stung." I look down, feeling vulnerable and incurable.
His words hurt and I frown, but before I can allow the discomfort to settle in, soft-smooth-peppermint flavoured lips press with force and eagerness against my lips.
Unprepared and stunned, my hands rush to conceal the death beating thumps of my heart.
Thirteen and innocent, my first kiss. A moment I've dreamed about being perfect, was just stolen.
There was no earth-standing-still moment or weak knees or even butterflied tummies.
Left angry and confused, I growl, stomp my foot and then, I smack him.
Hard.
Milo's reddened cheeks appear colourless for a second and I know my assault got to him.
I look at him, but he's already staring back at me.
Smirking, the kissing-thief, voices, "You're so easy to piss off."
And then he leaves.
I don't see him for two weeks after our encounter.
And when Benji returns home, bedridden and frail, his best friend goes back to pretending that I do not exist.
I don't forget the feel of that kiss.
It happens again, and again, and again.
And that is how my innocence began to end.
Present
When I arrive back from my jog, sweaty and flustered, Edward's Range Rover is missing once again.
I had no idea that I could hate his absence so much.
My parents are rushing, running up and down the stairs, preparing the last minute things for their trip.
"And don't forget the porch light should be turned on at exactly 7 p.m. Make sure all the windows are shut and doors are locked. I've left all the emergency numbers next to the phone and I hope you've programmed them into your phone." My mom mentions for about the thousandth time.
I sigh and nod and agree because that's the reactions my parents expect from me. I get lectured about Mike not been allowed to visit while I am alone at home.
"I get it, Mom. Mike respects me, and he respects your house." Again, I'm petty-speech talking and walking towards the car with my Mom's overnight bag slung over my shoulder.
My dad hands me the keys to his van, saying, "I told the Cullen, boy, to keep an eye on you too."
Stopping dead in my track, my one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn is completed in record speed.
"You told him that you were going away?" I practically yell because maybe I didn't want Edward to know my parents will be away.
"Bella." The pastor grunts, taking Rene's bag from me. Unlocking the van, he continues, "One thing I know about that boy is that he will never allow anything to happen to you."
"He left." I whisper, but Charlie Swan hears everything.
"He's back." Two words match a stern response. My parents know about my 'little' crush on Milo Cullen. My feelings were never something I was very good at hiding.
I guess our conversation ends there because before I know it, my parents and I are standing in the middle of the departures terminal, holding hands and praying for their safe trip.
With amens floating in the air, I wave off the two people who are supposed to hold my world together.
As the distance grows between us, my heart whispers relief.
I turn around, and if I had the courage, I would do cartwheels and fist pumps as I exit the airport.
On my drive home, I plug my USB into the media dock and allow MGMT Kids to blare out from the speakers. The increased volume could be considered as noise pollution, but I've never felt this free.
Mike invited me to dinner and after some negotiating, we decided to do an early lunch.
So here I am, parked infront of my boyfriend's perfect house. Mike has two, really annoying little brothers and I'm momentarily stuck with a cloud of despair as they come running towards my car. Eric and Embry begin doing ridiculous star jumps around me as I walk towards the front door.
"Get away from my girl you punks!" Mike yells as he approaches me. I want to roll my eyes at his words of referral.
I won't.
Grabbing my hand, my choir-singing boyfriend sports the happiest of smiles as he welcomes me into his home.
Mr. and Mrs. Newton are already seated at the table and I wonder how this family can always be so happy.
Free of trouble and worries, this is the image they lead the town to believe.
After greeting Mike's parents, I take a seat at the table as he hovers behind me, motioning for me to remove my jacket.
"Isabella, I'm sure you're missing your parents already." Mrs. Newton coos while Mike and his brothers deliver the food to the table. Because she is semi-handicapped, the men in her life are propositioned to do just about everything to make things easier for her.
"Not quite yet, Mrs Newton. I'm sure I will though." I smile weakly, and then we say our prayers.
The table is covered with lasagne dishes, garlic bread and yummy salads. I dish in, because if there were ever something I could say about myself, it would be that I love food.
My hips are evidence of the number of carbs I pack into my system. But without a care in the world, I indulge myself with mouthfuls of this delicious meal. Because who knows when I'll get to eat something prepared by another set of hands.
A topic arises about exams, college and everything that could be considered the ideal family discussion.
Mike's eyes peer into mine from across the table and I've never witnessed his predatory hunger side.
With a slight smile, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Thinking it is most probably someone from church; I retrieve my phone and glare at it from my lap.
ANNONYNOUS: Where are you?
From an unknown number, my heart somehow knows who it is. I peek up, guilty and innocent, and again, Mike frowns, questioning my silent change of mood.
"It's Angela." I mouth, convincing myself that nothing can be made from a little white lie.
We finish off lunch, and when Mrs. Newton mentions desert, I rise up from my seat and mention that I still need to go home and study.
"Oh honey, ofcourse." Although my boyfriend's mother understands, I can tell he doesn't want me to leave.
Driving back home, I get closer towards dimpled smiles and poetic taboos.
Because Edward Cullen is all kinds of unordinary.
As I pull into the driveway, I take a deep breathe, noticing his Range Rover across the lawn.
Stepping out of my Dad's van, I approach the back door and lean in to retrieve my bag. Taking a moment to get my grip, I close my eyes as the clicking sound of locking the car signals impending change.
On my porch, seated on the second step, waits grey eyes with glittering silver sparks. Dressed in the same clothing as the morning, a slouched figure waits patiently with a basketball placed beside him.
Motioning towards the silver watch on his wrist, Milo smirks, indicating a silent message that he has been waiting for a while.
Returning his look of mischief, I whisper, "I'm here now." Followed by a genuine smile.
Because this moment is everything.
A/N: Thank you reading. Please share your thoughts.
xx