Chapter Seven – Bella

The first time Edward Cullen asked if he could sit next to me in class, I thought it was a single incident. This was why I secretly cherished every second of it, like indulging on expensive chocolate. I felt extremely guilty for doing that, but I couldn't help it. It was stronger than me, as strong as an impulse. Then, the Friday afterwards, he took a seat beside me as if it was the most obvious thing in the world for him to do. A week later, I wasn't surprised that he saved me a seat.

Conversation came naturally with him. It wasn't difficult to find my way with words around him, which kind of caught me off-guard because I wasn't a talkative person by nature. With him around, I wasn't shy or embarrassed. I met his queries with queries of my own. I still blushed occasionally when I said more than I thought I should have, but it wasn't something I could blame him for; I'd never had control over that unfortunate trait.

He always asked me about books I was reading, so we found ourselves discussing mostly that in the little time we had before class. Like me, he had a special place in his heart for classics. Poe and James were his favorites. He enjoyed more contemporary literature, too. He didn't like poetry or science fiction, but he didn't mind fantasies. He thought Austen and Bronte wrote what he referred to as Victorian chick flicks. He teased me endlessly when I confessed my favorite novel was Wuthering Heights, but not in a way that would make me uncomfortable. On the contrary. It was… different. I hated myself for the comparison, but I'd never discussed books with Jacob. It just… wasn't his thing, I guessed. I didn't even think he had favorite authors, favorite books. It made me think how little I'd really known about Jake.

Thinking about Jacob always brought to mind that first time Edward had sat beside me, and his invitation at the end of that class. I still couldn't believe I hadn't turned him down as I obviously should have done. The worst part about it was that I was sort of disappointed by having to turn him down. If I didn't have that class afterwards, I probably would have gone to have coffee with him.

So what if I had? Who said he meant it as a date? He was from my dad's town. We would just be two friends who were catching up over coffee.

Then again, we could do some catching up before class, and never once had we spoken about Forks.

Ugh. I was overreacting. It really wasn't that big a deal. I just needed to forget about it. He probably wasn't wasting any sleep on it; there was no reason why I would.

On the forth week, I walked to class with Anya. She started a different course at the beginning of the semester, but dropped it because she didn't like it. She hoped this course would help her practice her English, and would give her a taste of a different culture. She heard me tell Alice about this course, and got a permission to switch courses. On the way there, I sort of wondered if Edward was already there and if he saved me a seat again. I tried to ignore the way my heart was beating slightly faster than usual in what I knew was anticipation, but I knew I'd better not raise my hopes up. Disappointment wasn't healthy or fun.

But when we walked in, there he was, looking up at me as I pushed the door open, and removing his bag from the chair that was meant for me. Anya seemed kind of taken aback, basically because I hadn't told the girls anything about him. There wasn't much to tell, really. He was just a guy who happened to live close to my dad's, who took a course with me. We talked a little. End of story. It paled comparing with some of the other girls' stories.

The truth was that I didn't want to mention Edward's name next to Alice. She was a great roommate and my closest friend, but she was still speaking endlessly about her brother. She knew about Jacob, but it was as if she expected me to just dump him and have her brother instead. She wasn't very realistic, but she was persistent. It was obvious that so far in her life she'd always got her way. It got to a point where her not-so-inconspicuous attempts began to make me uncomfortable. I didn't even want to imagine what might happen if I even started speaking about someone else while constantly rejecting her brother.

Not that I was interested in Edward in that way. Not at all. It wasn't like that. It was just fun talking to him.

His eyes wandered from me to Anya and back to me again, but the slight confusion in his stare quickly settled into the warm smile he'd always greeted me with, whether I'd been the first of us to arrive or not. I returned his smile as Anya and I settled in our seats. I saw the curiosity in Anya's eyes at our silent exchanged, but I knew she wouldn't ask me anything, she wouldn't even risk a whisper, until we were alone. "Anya, this is Edward, Edward – Anya," I introduced them.

"Are you new in this class?" he asked her after they shook hands.

Anya nodded as she took out her notepad and a few colorful pens. She was organized like I'd never seen before in my life. She'd said it helped her focus on the language. "I to be in Science and Art class. I hope this course to improvise my English."

"Improve," I corrected her, and she smiled at me gratefully. It had become a habit of ours, but I kind of liked her broken English. It was unique, it had character. It added to her charm.

"If you need help settling in, you're welcome to borrow my notes, if you don't mind my handwriting."

I snorted. He had perfect handwriting, neater than mine. Neater than any guy's I'd known, for that matters.

"Thank you, but I'm to catch up with Bella's notes."

There was this glint in his eyes when they shifted from her to me. He flashed a crooked grin at me. I had a feeling I knew what he was going to say. "I bet you enjoyed our reading assignment," he said, mock-frowning at me.

I felt my lips curl into a smile in response. We were assigned sections from Jane Eyre for this week's class. Guilt aside, it was impossible not to think about him while reading it. We'd discussed his abhorrence to the Bronte sisters only two weeks ago. Reading one of them for this week's class must have been downright torture for him. "It's not one of my favorites, but yeah, I did enjoy it. I'm surprised that you actually survived it."

"I was this close to slitting my wrists." His expression indicated that he wasn't joking.

"You not to like Jane Eyre?" Anya asked.

"He thinks it's the worst book ever written," I said, rolling my eyes. I was sort of amazed with myself. Each week brought a new surprise, revealed a new part in myself I'd been unaware of. I hardly recognized this chatty girl. She was closer to Alice than she had been to me.

My reaction made him laugh. "No, I do not think it's the worst book ever written! I'm sure I can name a few others."

I knew exactly which ones he would have named. I shook my head, pretending to be horrified with him. "Really, Edward, have some respect to the books you got your name from."

"It's not my fault my mom has such bad taste in classics. Besides, you said it yourself. You're not a fan of Jane Eyre. The beginning is pretty good, I'll give her that. But you have to agree that the ending is completely absurd. It's too neat. It's not realistic."

"It's not supposed to be realistic!"

"Well, the last time I checked, it was taught under 'realism' in literature courses, so there you have it!"

I laughed. There wasn't much else to do. There was no point arguing with him; his case was set.

"Thank God I had a few Mozart pieces to get done for this week. A person needs to have some balance in his life," he said, batting his lashes dramatically.

"You play?" asked Anya. I knew her boyfriend, who went to NYU, played the violin.

"Yeah, I play the piano."

"You play in auditions. I thought I to recognize you."

He ran a hand through his hair. He'd always done that in moments of discomfort, I noticed. There was something in his eyes, a flick of a shadow I couldn't decipher. But it was gone as soon as it had appeared. "Yeah, that was me."

"If you're not to like Jane Eyre, why are you in this course?"

"Because I hoped we would do more than just girly stuff," he replied, pretending to be sulking.

"I'm sure Mr. Bronson is saving the manly stuff to the end," I backfired.

He meant to answer, but Mr. Bronson, our lecturer, chose that moment to walk in. I pursed my lips, but I couldn't stop myself from grinning throughout the next half an hour or so. I remembered how baffled I'd been that first week. I could hardly get two words together. And now… It was just so easy to be myself around him, to tease him. It was almost as if we'd known each other for years, almost as if…

Almost as if he was Jacob.

I clutched my pen tighter in my hand, sending away the thought and the image that accompanied it. I wouldn't think about it now. I couldn't. I was making connections that weren't really there just because I missed Jacob. I wasn't comparing Edward and Jacob; I was replacing one for the other, because Jacob couldn't be with me right now.

Yeah, believe that, if that makes you feel better.

I dropped the pen. Edward caught it as it rolled in his direction. Our fingers touched briefly as he pushed the pen back to me. The tiniest spark, as sudden as an electric shock, made me pull my hand back with a gasp. We'd never touched before. Sure, we were sitting shoulder to shoulder, but it was never something like that. I could still feel it, prickling just beneath my skin. It made my cheeks grow hot, and I hoped no one had noticed me sitting there all perplexed. My heartbeat was suddenly too erratic. Once I was sure he wasn't looking, I tried to take a few deep breaths without drawing too much attention to myself.

But just when I got it all under control, something else occurred to me. My next class had been canceled. I remembered taking the message calmly this morning. But, this morning, it hadn't held the possibilities it did now.

His invitation had still sort of lingered at the back of my mind. He had never asked me again, but I assumed it was because he knew I had a class to get to right after this one. But now, this week, I didn't. I didn't need to make it up to him, but I kind of felt bad for having to turn him down. Could I possibly be courageous enough to ask him to have coffee with me?

Oh, please, I scorned myself. You act as if it's a date. It wasn't. We'd just be two friends who have coffee together.

I stole a glance at the watch on his wrist. There were ten minutes until the end of class. I'd always resented that time. It always felt as if things between us had been left unsaid, as if there were so many conversation topics we were yet to cover. But this week it didn't have to end. Not now, at least.

Anya had to hurry out when the class eventually ended. She waved goodbye to Edward and pinned me with a significant look before she disappeared, one which he obviously hadn't noticed.

"She's very nice," he commented when we packed our stuff.

"Yeah, Anya's great," I replied, distracted. If I was going to do it, I had to do it now. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other as I waited for him to zip his bag. I couldn't decide if it was impatience or just nerves. Either way, he seemed to notice.

"You're not rushing out today?"

"No, my class was cancelled."

"Oh." His expression was unreadable. There was no way to tell if he'd got the implications of that, or if I were the only one obsessing with overanalyzing everything.

Ah, to hell with it. It was no big deal. I could do this. "Hey, I was thinking…" My voice trailed off, but only for a second. It's nothing like that, I reminded myself, struggling to get a grip, to get my blushing under control. We're just friends. Right. "Are you still up for that coffee?"

It didn't take him more than a second to remember. There was the tiniest spark of uncertainty in his gaze, but it soon dissipated. "Sure."

He sidled to let me walk passed him. The moment I had my back to him, I sucked in a huge breath. Sure, it wasn't a date or anything, but it didn't make me feel less proud of myself.

xoxox

We didn't go to any of the cafeterias in the building or to the Starbucks right across the street. He led the way to a small café about a block away. Its name, Maddie's glowed in soft red neon against one of the windows. He had discovered this place while searching for music books in a nearby alley last year; he said when he opened the door for me. It looked nice and warm, homelier than your average Starbucks. Little nooks and private sitting spots were created by faded, burgundy-colored sofas that were spread randomly across the room. We chose a table at the very back, where there was one long sofa along three huge windows. I scooted into a corner that was created between the wall and the window. He could sit either on a chair across from me, or next to me on the sofa. He chose the second.

A waiter came and went with our orders. For a moment, none of us said anything. It was kind of awkward, in a way I wasn't used to be with him. Things were never like that in class. There was always something to talk about. I didn't know why now would be different, but somehow it was.

"How's your brother doing? I haven't seen him since the wedding," I said eventually. I meant to ask him about his brother weeks ago, but never got a chance to.

"Emmett is fine. He's studying in UCLA."

"What's he studying?"

"Psychology and sports studies. He did his first degree here, but since Rosalie got a job in the West Coast, he did a transfer. They just moved last month."

"I bet it was fun to have him so close last year."

"Yeah, it was great. I was supposed to come and live with them this year, but then Rose got the job and the plans changed a bit. So now I'm watching their apartment for them."

"You don't live on school grounds?" It explained why I hadn't seen him around. But I didn't even know it was possible to live elsewhere while you attended Juilliard.

"No, I got a permission to stay at my brother's place. I think they didn't give me trouble because it's really a few minutes' walk from here."

The waiter was back with our orders then. I added some sugar to my coffee and stirred it slowly. From the corner of my eye I saw him do the same.

"So how come I've never seen you around in Forks during the summer?"

"Maybe you weren't looking hard enough." My backfire was instinctive. I caught myself a second later, and my cheeks flared. I couldn't believe I'd actually said it.

"Maybe," he echoed, his smile enigmatic.

"I mostly stay indoors when I'm there anyway. Too cold," I said, wrinkling my nose. I brought my mug to my lips and blew on it before I took a small sip.

"So you like Phoenix better then?"

"Not really. It's too hot. I'm kind of searching the balance between these two," I laughed. "Here, maybe? I'm not here long enough to figure it out yet."

"You're going to love New York. It's the best place to be."

"Sounds like something my roommate told me when I first got here," I smiled, thinking of Alice.

"If you don't agree yet, then something is horribly wrong."

"I didn't have much chance to look around yet."

"Too busy with school?"

"God, yes. I didn't think it would be so exhausting."

"The first year is the hardest. There's a lot to get used to."

I wondered if he meant the homework, the endless hours of practice, or the homesickness. Probably all the above. "So how long have you been playing?"

"Well, here's a question," he said. His smile was melancholic, as if it wasn't the most pleasant of memories. It was intriguing. "I think I started piano lessons in elementary school, but it's one of those things you don't remember exactly when they started, as if it's always been there. Does that make sense?"

It did, sort of. For the next few minutes I listened to him as he told me a bit about some of the teachers who influenced him through the years, about his teachers in Juilliard, about his current private tutor, a Mr. Shapiro. He sounded sort of like Madame Claudine. My heart twitched when I thought about her. I meant to call her and tell her how things were going. My mom mentioned her a few times in her emails, saying that she'd asked about me, and I meant to at least send her a postcard and say I was okay, but now, four weeks into the semester, I was just too busy. Tonight, I thought. I'd stop and get a postcard on my way back. She deserved better.

"You okay?"

I blinked, suddenly realizing there was silence and he was watching me with concern. "Yeah. Sorry."

"You weren't here for a second."

"I was thinking about my ballet teacher at home. About how ungrateful I'm acting. I keep meaning to call her, but I never do." I was a bit surprised at myself for confessing this to him.

"You've been busy."

His tone was soft, soothing. It was sweet of him to say that, although I didn't know why he would be so protective of me. I shook my head. "That's not an excuse. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her. I didn't even consider Juilliard before she brought it up."

"Then you don't see yourself very clearly."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because if you did, you would have seen what I've seen in your audition," he said, letting his eyes meet mine. I was taken aback by what I found there. "You're one of the best dancers I've ever seen."

He echoed my previous question, and this time he listened while I was talking. Our conversation soon drifted from ballet to music. My knowledge of classical music was limited; I'd only known the pieces I'd danced to. He told me a bit about his favorite composers, and confessed that he'd composed himself when he was in the mood for it. We drifted into favorite bands, favorite songs, favorite videos. It felt we were still scraping the surface.

I meant to ask more about his family when I happened to catch a glance of the sky outside. I didn't realize how long we'd been sitting there. It was nearing dusk. His eyes followed mine, and he seemed surprised by this fact as well.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to keep you here for so long. I bet you've got a lot of things to do."

"Only about a million," I joked.

"If it's any comfort, I know how that feels," he said, signaling our waiter. When I tried to reach out for my bag to get my purse, he brushed my hand off with mock offence. The motion was gentle but determined. I got that funny feeling beneath my skin again, like hours ago when the tips of his fingers touched mine. I looked away, hoping he wouldn't notice me blushing.

We walked to the residence halls in silence, but it wasn't an awkward one. It'd been a while since I'd talked so much, I realized, and laughed as this realization hit me.

"What?" he asked, stopping on the sidewalk. We were in front of the building already. It really was just around the corner. A pang of disappointment hit, catching me off-guard.

"Nothing. I just had a really great time," I said, dropping my gaze to the sidewalk. Now I felt awkward.

"We should do it again sometime," he said quietly.

It wasn't a question. I looked up. His eyes bore into mine, as if challenging me to speak against this statement. There was only one implication to the words, to his fathomless stare. I knew what came next, what had to come next, and I braced myself against it. Jacob had never come up once in our conversation. There was no need to. But it looked like I had to mention him now. There was no easy way to do this. I'd never known how to turn people down. "Edward, look," I started. I could hardly look at him, but honesty was the least I owed him. "There's… someone else."

To my complete astonishment, he nodded solemnly. "I know."

"You know?"

"I… sort of put two and two together this summer."

That quiet voice again. It had a whole new meaning now. I couldn't help but wonder if that was why I'd never known he was in Forks during the summer. Was he deliberately avoiding me because he'd somehow found out about Jacob? But why would that even bother him? Why would he care? Well, at least I didn't lead him on. But from some reason, it didn't make me feel better about this.

"I didn't mean it like that though," his voice, soft and gentle, pulled me out of my self reproach. "I mean… we're friends. That's what friends do, right?"

It took me a second to realize he didn't mean it rhetorically. Somehow, hearing my own thoughts echoed back to me didn't feel as reassuring as it probably should have been. I slowly nodded. "Right."

"So we'll do it again?" he asked, a bit more hopeful. There was this glimmer in his eyes now that lightened the atmosphere.

I smiled, feeling slightly more comfortable. "Yeah, we'll do it again."

Only when I walked into the elevator, I remembered I didn't get the postcard for Madame Claudine.

xoxox

There were a few people in the common room when I walked in. Some of the guys were watching TV, and two girls with instruments were just on their way out. I spotted Anya in the corner of the room, away from the noisy TV set. She had a few books in front of her, one of them being her Russian-English dictionary. She didn't go anywhere without it. She was writing something, an essay, I assumed. She dropped her pen when she saw me come toward her, and smiled at me. "Are you busy?"

"Not really." I had a few stuff to read, but it was Friday. I could do it all tomorrow, I figured. "Why, do you need help?"

"No. Just to talk."

"Sure. I'll just change, okay?"

A pink post-it on the mirror informed me that Alice was working on her sequence for her modern dance class and not to wait for her. I took a quick shower and slipped into my most comfortable sweats. I stuck my feet into a pair of slippers and left the room.

Like she did earlier, Anya closed her books the moment she saw me.

"What's up?" I asked, sitting on the cushion across from her.

"This boy in class today," she started. I could already tell where she was going with it. "You to like him."

"Sure," I shrugged. "He lives where my dad does. Technically, I've known him for years."

"No. I mean you really to like him."

I laughed nervously. "Anya, it's nothing like that."

"You don't see what others to see from side. I to look at you in class today."

I thought it was better if she didn't know I'd just spent the afternoon with him. "I don't know what you mean."

"I think he is to like you, too."

"Anya, I have a boyfriend," I whispered. It was kind of pathetic I needed this affirmation as badly as she had.

"My Babushka… grandmother… always says that boyfriend is no wall."

I laughed softly. "It doesn't really work that way."

"But you think he's cute, don't you?"

"Edward? Sure I do." But what sane, straight girl wouldn't?

"Good start, then," she said, smiling as if she knew something I didn't.

I knew she was one of the most discreet girls here, but I kind of wanted to keep this thing between us. I still wasn't thrilled about sharing all this with Alice. Not that there was much to share, but I wanted to keep the little there was to myself. Even if nothing happened. I knew Anya wouldn't say anything; she wasn't that type of girl. I knew I could trust her to keep a secret. And still, I hesitated when it was time to ask her that. "Anya, uhh… I know it's kind of weird of me to ask, but is it okay we keep this between us?"

Her English might have been broken, but her mind was sharp. "Why keep secret if nothing is going on?"

"Because…" My voice trailed off. There was no reason. Not a logical reason, anyway. "I just don't want people to jump to the wrong conclusion, that's all."

"If there is nothing to tell, then I will not tell."

"Thank you."

"You promise me something too?"

"Umm, sure," I said, kind of uncertain now.

"Don't give up because of boyfriend. I have good instances."

"Instincts."

"I think it can be good for you," she said and got up. She collected her books, murmured good night, and swiftly went into her room.

I sat there, staring at the city that stretched below me, and tried to figure out what the hell she meant by that.