"Edward?" I called loudly as I rapt at the door for the tenth time. It was odd of him not to answer on the first knock. I was worried.
"Bella!" He sounded surprised as he swung open the door and let me in.
What I saw next was frighteningly gruesome but I looked passed that quickly.
He was shirtless, standing there with soaking wet hair and droplets of water dripping from his nose. His hair that was usually a crazy mess was sticking to his forehead, passed his eyebrows with a few pieces in his eyes. His scars stood out on the pale, pale skin of his face, arms, and chest but I wasn't horrified by them. It reminded me of when we met, the impossibly of it. I still had a hard time comprehending it all, especially Edward himself, as a man-molded human being, with scars and a missing navel to show for it.
"Bella?" I looked back at his eyes. I was blushing and fidgeted. He had, without probably realizing it, caught me staring and I felt horrible for it, even if I wasn't really looking at him in the end.
"I apologize for not opening the door. My internal clock has never failed me before," he sounded puzzled.
"It's fine Edward, don't apologize."
He smiled in his odd, quirky way and walked into the living room. I followed him and sat down while he grabbed his shirt and a towel for his hair.
The living room where we worked was small and looked ordinary except for the 70s style sofa and telephone.
"Edward I won't be able to come this weekend like I thought," I said as he sat down with the book I gave him.
He looked up from the pages of the book on his lap and asked me why, I could tell he was disappointed.
"My friend wants to see me and I can rarely see him."
"Why are you unable to see him? Why does he want to see you?" He asked all of that at once, looking very serious.
"One question at a time Edward," I laughed, "He has friends I don't care for and they occupy his time. He wants to see me because he misses me. Were going to go to a place to play virtual games. His name is Jacob, you remember me talking about him don't you?"
"Yes, I do." His answer was short and he sounded put off but quickly asked, "What's the definition of a friend?"
He always seemed to ask questions like these, ones not many people think about answering or defining. Some things just are and it's hard to accurately define things that are differnt but elementally the same for everyone.
"There are differnt kinds of friends or maybe a better way to describe it is there are different levels of friendship, like love." I thought for a moment "Umm, well a good friend is someone you care a lot about and would do almost anything for and they would do the same for you. Someone who helps you in your time or need or just gives you a hand when you need it. When you have a good friend they know you well and you know them so it's not hard to tell when they're hurt or happy. Sometimes friendship can also be one sided and only mean something to one person, kind of like unrequited love, so you have to be careful decideing who your going to care about." I looked at him with a smile, hoping I explained it as best I could. He would learn about friendship in real life situations once he lived in the real world, once he had a base to work off of.
He shifted on the couch so his back was against the arm of the chair, his legs were crossed and he was looking right at me. It was intense, the hard stare he was shooting me, I was bewildered and realized I never noted how beautiful his odd, yellow eyes really were.
"Bella, do you get butterflies when you go see your friend Jacob?"
His question caught me off guard but I answered. "No, not anymore."
"Do you get the butterflies when you come to see me?" His stare was still dead set and he looked to be more consecrated then I had ever seen him. It made me hope feverently in the back of my mind I didn't have a zit.
I was surprised by the question to say the least and didn't know what to say. Did I get "butterflies" when I came to see him? I hadn't noticed it but I suppose I did.
