The Twilight Twenty-Five
thetwilight25 dot com

Prompt: 07.Desecrate

Main Character: Bella/Edward
Rating: T
Word Count: 439

Beta: Perry Maxwell

"So this is me," I say as I open the door to my room.

Bella steps inside, looking things over. Her eyes go to my bed, or rather, the wall behind it, which is filled with posters of bands and various musicians.

She spots my guitar and turns her head to meet my eyes. "You play?"

"A little."

"What's a little?" She pulls off her backpack, takes out her English text, and plops down on my bed.

"Well, let's see, there's Row, Row, Row Your Boat and, um, Do You Know the Muffin Man?"

"The Muffin Man?" She laughs.

"Hey, I'm proud of that one. Do you know how hard it is to play Do You Know the Muffin Man?"

"No," she admits. "But I'm sure you'll tell me all about it."

"What does that mean?" I ask, but she dodges my question.

"So, Mr. Lerner said five pages on free will, right?"

"Yep, five pages."

"So what are your initial thoughts on free will?"

"Um, it's good?" I say.

"Now you're quiet? Now? Really, Edward?"

"Okay, well . . ." I sit beside her, and for the next hour we hash out the finer points we want to make in our essay. Bella doesn't talk a lot, but when she does I want to listen to her every word. She's thoughtful, has good ideas, and a concise way of writing them. I couldn't have been given a better partner for this assignment.

"Short break?"

"Yes, definitely." She lies flat on my bed beside me and stretches, her shirt lifting up as her fingertips touch the wall behind her head. She peers up at Kurt Cobain, who returns her stare. "I hate how everyone worships him. He was just a musician."

"Just a musician? Are you kidding me?"

"The man was a druggie with greasy hair."

"You will not desecrate Nirvana in my room! He was a god!"

"He was a musician," she says defiantly, and even though she's wrong, I kind of want to kiss her.

"Seriously, do you know how hard it is to play the Muffin Man?"

"No," she says, laughing. "Why don't you show me?"

I leave her side and return to the bed, guitar in hand. In my best Kurt Cobain, I sing, "Do you know the muffin man . . ."

She rolls over in a fit of giggles, then sits up abruptly, eyes shining, smile wide. "Okay, I get it. Musicians are sexy and worthy of worship."

"I know, right?"

She laughs, and it's the best music I've ever heard in this room. I want to play that track again and again.