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.
Leading Lady
Chapter 7 - Ripeness is All
EDWARD.
Alice hosts Christmas at her place. It hasn't occurred to me that I haven't actually seen her house yet until I'm pulling up to her driveway with a store-bought ham in my passenger seat. Her place is a bit off the beaten path. In fact, it's a long way off the beaten path; her house is in the forest. It's hard to tell how big the place is from the main road, but as I get closer, I realize that it is huge. Not that we didn't have it good growing up - we did - but holy fuck, Alice seems to have married up. Especially considering she met the guy in Forks, I'm pretty impressed with her.
Before I even reach the front door, Alice flings herself at me. I nearly drop the Christmas ham as she squeezes my neck.
"Merry Christmas, Alice," I sigh glumly. I always find it difficult to work up the Christmas spirit. Alice seems to have no trouble with it.
She leads me inside. The place is resplendent with decorations. Garlands, wreaths, and mistletoe are hanging everywhere. It smells like a fucking bottle of Pine-Sol in this place. Jasper comes and takes the ham from me. He pats me on the back. I can tell it's going to be a long night.
After Alice's Christmas extravaganza, I feel the need to hibernate for a few days. Holiday cheer really grates on my nerves. I had been hoping my mother and father would make it out to Forks to surprise us, but - as expected - my dad was working. I couldn't help but be a little - okay, a lot - annoyed that he couldn't take one fucking day off to spend with his family.
I spend the rest of the break locked inside of my house, eating frozen pizzas and sleeping on my couch with the TV on at night. I'm the picture of depression and I refuse to admit that it has anything to with Bella. She's just a girl, I try and convince myself. I blame my sullenness on the weather. All the snow, rain, and clouds are giving me seasonal affective disorder, I'm sure of it.
I hardly leave the house at all. I pretend to myself that I just don't want to go out in the cold, but really it's because I don't want to see Bella. I'm afraid that once I see her, I won't be able to stop thinking about her. I think about her constantly as it is. I'm sure that seeing her in the grocery store or even going to get her mail would fill my brain with unwelcome longing, and I can't be having that. The more I think about Bella, the more I have to remind myself not to think of her. And the more I have to tell myself to keep my mind off of her, the more I can't stop thinking of her. And so the vicious cycle continues.
When I start perking up towards the end of the break, I decide that I should just give up the ruse - even though the only person that I was trying to convince was myself. I'm excited to see Bella again. Depriving myself of her didn't do me any good. I figure, I can enjoy her company and keep it totally appropriate and that'll be fine. There's no use in suffering through this self-imposed loneliness when the solution is right across the street.
I can't sleep Sunday night. My stomach turns every time I think of standing in front of a class. I try not to picture Bella's face, her eyes following me as I pace in before the rows of desks. I rearrange the desks in my head, make a semi-circle, but I still see Bella in the front row, blushing and sighing.
I let myself drift into a fantasy of touching her warm, flushed cheek, and soon I'm dreaming.
The image of Bella's pink, soft lips parting is disrupted by my alarm and I reluctantly unfold myself from the bed.
After I shower, I stand in front of the closet in my towel, trying to decide what to wear. I usually throw on whatever's clean, but today I feel... pressure. I want to look good on my first day of teaching, and I want to look good for Bella.
I know nothing can or will come of my fascination with her, but I still want her to like me, so I put on a white shirt and tie. I pull a blue sweater over my head and grab my coat and bag. I'm running a bit behind because I spent so long staring at my clothes hanging in the closet. I want to chastise myself for being such an image-obsessed pussy, but it's a bit too early in the morning for self-flagellation, so I pour my coffee in my to-go cup and leave.
When I arrive on campus, I stop by my office first to pick up a few books. I grab my roughed-up copy of Crime and Punishment, Billy Collins' Sailing Alone Around the Room, and Fine Frenzy, my favorite book of poetry. The students have to learn how to read, understand, and interpret poems for their AP exams, and the pit of my stomach twists knowing that I'm the one who has to teach them those skills.
I grab the giant bunch of keys I was given by the school and make my way over to the classroom. When I come around the corner I stutter my walk a little when Bella comes into view. She's leaning against the wall, her cheek pressed to the shoulder of her coat, and a lock of hair is hanging over her eyes.
A smile spreads across my face as I imagine sweeping the hair from her face. "Hey, Bella!" I shout at her, trying to seem casual. I slip my key in the lock and attempt to stave off my perverted thoughts. I gesture for Bella to enter, unsure of what else to say to her.
She sits in the front row, in the exact seat I had pictured her in. I stupidly tell her this and then want to kick myself. Now she thinks that I've been thinking about her. Which is true, I guess, but I really should be keeping these things to myself. It's so quiet in the room and I can hear her breathing, I can smell her skin and shampoo. I try to write a few things on the board, but I feel completely surrounded by her. We are alone together.
I worry that she's uncomfortable in the silence, so I look over my shoulder - careful not to turn around entirely and expose my semi to her. "Blue is a nice color for you," I say, remembering that blue top she wore at her party when I watched her from my window. Fuck, did I just hint that I've seen her in blue before? I shake my head and go back to writing.
From the corner of my eye, I see her run her tongue across her lip before she bites it. It's making me crazy. Luckily, some other students come in just then and save me from attacking Bella. It's that annoying, wannabe-sexy girl Jessica and some boy. They're talking about the reading we'll be doing this semester.
I struggle through the whole period. I give my lecture about Dostoyevsky's background and assign the reading for tomorrow. I talk about the AP exam and answer questions about the semester. I keep glancing in Bella's direction. I worry that I might be paying her too much attention, so I force my eyes to look at other students, at the cover of a book, and the boring grey industrial carpet... anywhere but her deep chocolate eyes.
I give them a few minutes at the end of the period to start their reading. I hear Bella sigh as she opens her book, but I decidedly ignore it. I spend so long not looking at her that I wonder if she's noticed that I haven't been paying any attention to her. I don't know which is worse, to ignore her or to pay too much attention to her. I'm torn and I don't know what to do. I want her to feel special, but I don't want to single her out and make her uncomfortable. I need to treat her the same as the other students for the sake of my job and her education... but I can't help it. She's always on my mind, nagging nagging nagging.
She sneezes, an adorable little squeak, and I feel like my heart's in my throat. I want to squeeze the shit out of her and lavish her with attention. But I don't. I groan and then quickly clear my throat. I don't want to sound too... anything right now.
She takes her time packing up her things after class and I can't help but hope that she's stalling to talk to me. A boy can dream, right? I can't ignore her any longer. We're alone in my classroom for the second time in an hour. I can smell her, feel the heat radiating off her skin, I can't pretend she's not here. Besides, she's my student; I owe her some polite conversation.
I inch towards her desk. She's not looking at me and I don't want to startle her.
"So," I pause. I haven't even thought of what to say to her. "How's your first day going?"
I watch her throat bob as she swallows. Her lips part and there's a small silence before she shyly replies, "It's good."
"That's it? Good?" I almost laugh.
"Yeah. Um, actually, I've got a writer's cramp. I don't think I've ever taken so many notes in my life." She continues packing her things away, avoiding eye contact. I hope I'm not making her uncomfortable.
"Well, don't burn yourself out. You've got a whole semester of my torture left." I'm goading her but I'm not sure if she likes it. She blushes... and did she just roll her eyes? Now I just feel bad, I didn't mean to worry her or anything. "You seem a bit stressed. Is everything okay?" I ask in earnest.
"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." Her words come out in a rush and she beams up at me. She looks so innocent and childlike. I remember that I'm her teacher.
"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." I honestly want to offer her help as her teacher, but I can't help but drool a little at the thought of her and I alone in my office. She's like a nut I desperately want to crack. If only she'd let me in.
I expect her to blush, grab her bag roughly, and rush out the door wordlessly. Instead she looks me dead in the eye and says, "Thanks. I think I will."
I have an hour break before I teach Drama Lit. I go to the theater and poke around for a bit. I print off the syllabus, wheel a chalkboard onstage, and stack the books on a chair. Everything seems set for class so I walk to my office for no reason, just to kill time. I know Bella is in Music Theory because I'm a creepy stalker. I pass the music building in hopes of accidentally-on-purpose running into her or seeing her through the window. I know my behavior is entirely out of line, but as long as it seems like a total coincidence, I think I'm in the clear.
I'm well aware of the fact that I've been trying to convince myself of a lot of things these days.
I don't see Bella through the window; I'm not close enough to get a good view as I pass by. But I do hear students singing scales. I wondering if I'm hearing Bella...
When I reach my office, I check my tie in the reflection of the window of the door. I've become entirely too interested in my own looks over the last 24 hours. It's ridiculous.
I'm sitting in a brown folding chair on the stage of the Little Theater at Forks High. I keep crossing and uncrossing my legs. I want to be a tableau of casual professionalism when the students arrive. I want the image of me sitting just perfectly in this folding chair to be forever burned into my students' memories as the first time they ever saw their new theater teacher.
I know I have two solid hours to look forward to and I want things to go just right.
The students start rolling in. First it's a couple of girls, then Jessica and the boy, whose name I've learned is Mike - they never seem to be apart. Then Rose saunters in with the boy I saw her making out with before the break. I make a mental note never ever to speak of having witnessed this. I'm surprised to see this kid in theater and at first I just assume that he's walking her to class, but when he sits down next to her in the second row, I realize he's staying. Seems more like the football playing type, but what do I know?
Another buff, non-theater type walks in and nods at Rosalie's man friend. This kid is massive and could probably kick my ass. I don't know why he intimidates me, but he does. He looks rough. He sits down behind Rosalie.
I start feeling anxious when Bella doesn't arrive immediately. I wonder if she's going to bail on this class after her experience with me this morning. I can't really remember doing anything wrong, but I don't know how my actions read to her. I wipe the worry off my face and continue to smile and greet students as they come in.
I finally see Bella and Angela come through the door at the back of the theater. A wave of relief washes through me. They're joking about something and Bella's laughing, but her brow is furrowed. She palms her forehead and Angela pats her on the back. She doesn't make eye contact with me as she approaches the front of the theater. She smiles at that massive kids and sits next to Rosalie. The kid practically explodes with adoration. It's all over his face and I want to go give him a piece of my mind. I can't believe I'm getting jealous over a smile, but I am. I try to accept my feelings and move on.
The bell rings, signaling the start of class.
I clear my throat. Here we go.
"Hey, class. I'm Edward Cullen. Feel free to call me Mr. Edward or Mr. Cullen, or just Cullen. Just don't call me Eddie. This is Dramatic Literature. If it says something other than Drama Lit on your schedule for third period, you're in the wrong place. Now is your chance to escape." The students giggle, but no one moves. They seem much more animated and eager than my AP English students, but I guess that's to be expected. All these kids are attention loving, only child types.
"I know that I'm no Jim," I continue, "and I'm not trying to be Jim or to replace him. I'll try to run this class in the same fashion that he did, but I hope you'll forgive me if things are a bit different than you are all used to."
I hand a stack of notecards to a student in the first row. "Please write your name on one of these cards. I'll be using them to choose scene partners and improv groups. I'm going to need someone to be the keeper of the cards... a 'name god' or 'goddess,' if you will. Any takers?"
Maybe it's because I'm looking right at her, or maybe she really is an eager beaver, but Bella's hand shoots right up. "Um, Bella, is it?" I feign ignorance. Her brow furrows and she nods. "Please give your name cards to Bella as soon as they're ready."
The notecards are making their way around the room and I'm watching as the students start to write their names down. "Once you've given your card to Bella, please join me on stage and form a circle."
The students trickle on stage and stand a little distance from me. They're probably wary of me, which is fine. When the entire class in standing on stage and Bella is clutching a stack of cards, I move over to the chalkboard. "Okay, being that this is a block English and drama class, we're going to be studying vocabulary words as well. I'm going to need a 'word god' or 'goddess' as well." I see a hand shoot up. "You up for it?" I ask, nodding at the girl.
"Yeah. Um, I'm Lauren, by the way." I think I see Bella make a face at Rosalie. Can't be too sure though. I hand Lauren a fresh stack of notecards. "Hold onto these. We won't have any words today, but we will tomorrow. As I assign them, write them and their definitions down on these cards and I'll use them to quiz you guys." I expect to hear a groan or something, but the students just nod their heads and continue to stare at me.
"Okay, one last order of business before we start the fun." I take up a piece of chalk. "Here's my phone number and email address. I know you guys all have your cell phones in your pockets right now, so please just take them out and enter my number. Feel free to call me if you have questions about the homework, just want to talk, or if you guys are ever in trouble. I know that you guys drink and party and that you'd die before asking your parents for a ride, so just call me if you need anything. I'm serious." The students huff but take their phones out in unison and start typing. I can see that Bella, Angela, and Rosalie are all suppressing giggles.
Once everyone has put their phones back in their pockets, we play a few of my favorite theater games. I decide to break the ice with a good round of pass the clap and zip zap zop. We're yelling onomatopoeic words at each other and jumping around like idiots and pretty soon everyone's giggling, but intently focused. It's pretty amazing how playing some kindergarten-level games with a bunch of teenagers has loosened me up. I feel right at home. I want to throw my tie on the floor.
I want to get into some Suzuki statues and do a zen walk, but I don't want to ask too much of them on their first day. I'll save that for tomorrow.
Instead, I just get to know their names by asking each of them to step into the center of the circle and state their name along with an adjective. I go first; I'm "Eager Edward." I pretty much feel like a huge douche saying those words, let alone making other people say words similar to that, but then again, I played this game in my high school drama class, and it's on Jim's approved list of activities.
"Luscious Lauren" and "Juicy Jessica" nearly double over in laughter after they give their monikers. I'm pretty disgusted, but I give the nod of approval as they step back into the circle. I learn the names of many of the boys too. "Extreme Emmett" is "Radiant Rosalie's" man friend, and "Jolly Jacob" can't keep his eyes off my girl.
I nearly choke on my altoid when she steps into the circle and says flatly, "Basic Bella." She hangs her head and walks back towards "Awesome Angela." I want to tell her she has to go again and say something more positive about herself, but I haven't made any other student try again, and I really don't want to single her out. She's "Beautiful Bella" to me.
I end the period with a round of ensemble squash. I give them 30 seconds to wordlessly assemble themselves into the image of an airplane. It comes out looking like a sinking ship, but I congratulate them on their work anyway. We take a short break and when they come back for the second hour of class, I have them form a circle of chairs around the stage and grab a textbook to read from.
The first play we're reading is Tartuffe. It's pretty light and funny and I think it's a good way to start the year. We read aloud through most of scene one. I'm slightly surprised - especially after her quiet demeanor when introducing herself - when Bella volunteers again, this time to read first. She reads for Madam Pernelle, and she's good, too.
No sooner have I begun to really enjoy Bella's performance, Rosalie takes over reading for that role. I can tell that the competition between these two might have passed healthy a while back, but I don't scold Rosalie. I can't do that, it's none of my business, and this is an open read. Anyone can read for whomever he or she wants - I don't choose.
All too soon, the class is over and the students are filing out of the theater. I really feel sad to see them go. I think I just had the most fun I've had since I've been in Forks. Bella lingers again. Either she is very slow with gathering up her things or she is purposefully staying behind... for me?
She hoists the strap of her messenger bag over her shoulder and slowly approaches me as I wipe my phone number off the chalkboard.
"Hey, um, Mr. Edward," she says softly, as if she's afraid to startle me.
I turn around. I'm pretty sure I've got a shit-eating grin all over my face because I'm about to burst with satisfaction that she's even this close to me. "Mhmm?" It comes out like a moan.
"I thought about it and I think it would be really helpful to discuss Crime and Punishment. I've been reading it since last semester and I just don't get it." She picks at the hem of her shirt.
"Absolutely, Ms. Swan. Do you have any prep periods this semester?"
"Yeah, I have sixth period free."
"Okay, I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to meet with you this week, but go ahead and shoot me an email and we can talk about it that way, just until I can find some time to sit down and chat." What the fuck was that, Cullen? I don't know why I have just essentially refused an offer I had prayed she would accept. I have sixth period free every fucking day this week and I just told her I was unsure? I roll my eyes at myself and scratch my nose nervously.
"Okay, I can do that. Thanks a lot," she mutters and practically runs for the door.
When I arrive home that night I finally check my email. I'd resisted checking it on my phone while at school for the remainder of the afternoon for fear of heartbreak. I wanted to see an email from Bella and I knew if I didn't see one that I would be disappointed.
I set my laptop up on the coffee table. My heart starts to race as I open my email program. I know she's right across the street, and I feel silly getting excited over a potential email when she's so near.
When I open my inbox, I see that I have a few emails from some of my students and other faculty. Bella's is third from the top. She must have sent it while she was still on campus. I open it right away.
From: Isabella Swan
Subject: Crime&Punishment
Date: January 15, 2007 1:43PM
To: Edward Cullen
Mr. Edward,
Sorry that I'm hating C & P. I think that the main problem is that I'm not one of those people who can get so engrossed in any book that they just devour it in hours. I find myself "checking out," so to speak, when I'm reading this one in particular. I often finish chapters and realize that I have no idea what I've just read. Perhaps this makes me a person who is not adept enough at reading for AP English. In any case, I'd really like to like this text. I just don't right now. (I'm entitled to not like a book every once in a while, right?) Do you think that maybe we could discuss this sometime at brunch to peak my interest a little more? I'd love that so-called 'pep talk' you've been speaking of.
-Bella
She's so self-deprecating sometimes. I don't know what to say other than yes, so I type out a short message and hit send.
From: Edward Cullen
Subject: RE: Crime&Punishment
Date: January 15, 2007 4:17PM
To: Isabella Swan
Ms. Bella,
Thank you for the very thoughtful message. Yes, you are permitted to have opinions about books, but I'm glad you're at least going to give me a chance for a "pep talk" on this one.
See you tomorrow at 7:55!
EC
I tap my foot on the hardwood floor and wait for her reply. I want her to say something like "looking forward to it!" or "see you then." Something, anything to confirm she's gotten my email. Even though I haven't written much, I'm desperate to know that we've successfully communicated.
Minutes pass. No answer. My foot is starting to hurt from hitting the floor so hard.
I give up on waiting and decide to go for a run. I put on my running shoes, shove my headphones in my ears, and take off jogging down the street. As Van Morrison croons, I imagine I'm running toward a future where Bella is older, when she isn't my student anymore. I picture a future where she wants me and we can be together.
I quicken my pace.
