Enjoy~
I went home soon after Alice had driven away. I had suddenly found myself extremely nervous, and I needed to rest.
This guy had stolen my journal, taken it from under my nose, and refused to admit that it was rightfully mine. The only way I would probably ever hear of Edward Masen again was if I could convince this thief to let me borrow my own book. How backward was that? I shouldn't have to stoop to begging like that. It was just a book, after all.
Just a book? No, Edward Masen was more than this simple journal. He was an actual person. He probably grew up and had children. Perhaps he went off to war, or he was stricken with some disease. What sort of impact did this boy have on the people around him? Did he change lives? From the few entries I had been able to read so far, Edward knew people so well…He was more than just one person to me; he was larger than life itself, and my house seemed almost consumed with his presence.
Without thinking, I found myself sitting in the apple tree that Edward had attempted to jump into so many years ago. Even after a century of growth, it was still many feet from the roof. I couldn't help but chuckle to myself as I imagined a nine year old boy jumping off the roof.
I sat there for most of the evening, deep in thought about Edward and his family. The only thing that finally got me out of the tree was when the mosquitoes started biting.
As I lay on my sleeping bags that night, my thoughts turned from Edward to Alice's brother.
What provoked him to steal my book? Why did he think it was rightfully his? I slowly drifted off to sleep, these questions swirling around in my mind.
I woke up much too early the next morning. Perhaps it was due to my nerves. When I looked out the window and realized that the sun was just barely on its way up, I groaned.
Not able to go back to sleep, I decided to occupy my time by cleaning a bit more. The plumber was set to come tomorrow…again, so I set to work scrubbing the bathroom. Of course, I made the classic mistake of mixing bleach and ammonia. Luckily I noticed before causing any permanent damage to myself.
I figured I'd let the house air out a bit before returning, so I got in my car and drove to the café. I looked at the clock and it was only 10 am. I contented myself by sitting in my car and watching the people pass.
Unfortunately people watching could not capture my attention so pulled out the diary lying next to me and began to read.
Two hours later, I was relieved to put down the Diary of Anne Frank. She was a nice girl but her abridged life left me feeling emptier than before. More than ever, I was yearning to read about Edward Masen.
It was about noontime, so I gladly exited my car and headed towards what I had already begun to think of as my table. As I reached my table I noticed that it already had an occupant.
Sitting there, attempting to look casual, was the boy who I had already begun to loathe. At least, I loathe him when he wasn't around. I knew perfectly well that if I wasn't so angry at him, I'd be swooning. He wasn't allowed to find out about that though.
As I sat down across from him, I noticed his grip on the table tighten while attempting to smile pleasantly at me. I, too, made an effort to appear cordial, but my smile looked more like a grimace in comparison.
We sat like that for awhile, staring 'pleasantly' at each other. I tried to distract myself, but I could not bring myself to speak. Without my anger, any words I had to say were lost in my throat. The longer I looked into his eyes, the shyer I felt. Plus I had already made enough of a fool of myself in our other encounters but speaking before thinking. Perhaps I could change that reputation.
Finally the waiter came and asked what we would like. He smiled warmly at us, blind to our tension.
"I've already eaten," the boy across from me said. He looked at me, "What would you like?
I wanted to say that I didn't want anything but I had woken up early and I was starting to feel the effects. I ordered the first thing I saw with caffeine.
As soon as the waiter left, we relapsed into silence. After a few seconds, though, the boy begun to hum absentmindedly.
After what seemed like an eternity, the waiter finally came out with my drink. As he walked off I took a hesitant sip. I nearly spat it back out.
"Ugh," I exclaimed, "What did I just order?"
The boy across from me watched, amused, as I peered into the brown concoction that was my beverage. I pushed it away from me, no longer needing the pick me up. The boy chuckled softly.
"Did you even look at the menu?" he asked.
"No," I admitted embarrassed. I should have ordered the usual but in my haste I wasn't thinking clearly. He laughed again, a musical laugh, and I couldn't help but smile a little, even if it was at my expense.
I peeked up at him and swallowed my nerves. I was no longer able to keep the silence, "So, do you think I could have my journal back?"
"You certainly aren't one to be distracted." He commented dryly and I blushed. He was thoughtful for a moment, "It wouldn't be wise to allow you to keep it."
"Why not?" I asked, trying not to sound like a whiny child.
He was quiet for a moment, "This journal is very precious and I cannot simply relinquish it to anyone who asks."
"But-" I started. He held up a hand.
"I do not believe it has been read by anyone before…" he paused, "What do you think of this Edward Masen?"
"Well, I haven't read the majority of it yet, but I find the story of his life fascinating. He goes from being a reluctant writer to an eager one," I found myself talking for five minutes, forgetting my anger for once and ending with begging.
"Please," I said, looking pleadingly at him. "Please let me finish it, I want to know the end."
The boy looked thoughtful, studying my features. He sighed.
"Here is the deal," he said, "I will allow you to borrow this journal."
"Thank you!" I breathed. I held out my hands eagerly for the journal. He hesitated.
"On one condition. I wish to know you thoughts on what you read. We can meet … twice a week." He said.
Naturally, I quickly agreed and we decide to meet in a few days. As we were heading to our vehicles I stopped short,
"Wait," I called, "What's your name?"
He smiled wryly, "My name is Edward Cullen."
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