This one was written without a word prompt.
oOo
Bella couldn't believe that she was sitting here, with Edward.
He was looking different from what she remembered. He was clean-shaven, and clear-eyed. He was smiling.
He wasn't wearing a suit this time, but a black, v-necked sweater and jeans. His hair was wild.
"So… what do you do, Bella?"
"I'm studying Linguistics at the University of Westminster," she answered promptly.
"Do you want to be a teacher?"
"I'm not sure yet. Maybe."
"What made you choose that particular field?"
His green eyes told her that his interest was genuine.
"Really? This is embarrassing."
"Embarrassing?" He laughed softly, a warm sound. "So this should be interesting."
"My favourite movie always was 'My Fair Lady,'" she said. "I loved Henry Higgins' work. The way he loves language, how he cares about every syllable, every single pronunciation. I'm a bit like that myself."
"A speech-snob?"
"Yes," she smiled. "If you will."
"That's not embarrassing at all, I think. I'm very much a snob myself on certain fields."
"Like?"
"Colour. Canvases. Paper. Paint brushes."
"Is that what you do? Paint?"
He nodded his head. Just then, their sandwiches arrived, and for a couple of minutes, they ate silently. Bella studied him secretly from behind her tuna on rye. He seemed such an earnest person, and yet, from time to time, a spark would come through for a second or two.
"I don't know a lot about painting," she said, "but I love going to exhibitions and museums. What sort of work do you do?"
He looked up, chewing thoughtfully. He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin before he replied.
"I guess you could say that I am influenced by a number of Romantic painters, like Constable and Turner. But I like to mix that influence with how I see everyday life. So if you ask me, what do I paint?"
Bella nodded eagerly.
"Pretty boring stuff, I guess. A mum and her kid at the supermarket. A girl with ear buds, running through Hyde Park. A guy greeting his girlfriend at the tube station. A lady selling flow – "
"Oh my God, I know that one!" Bella interrupted. "The man greeting his girlfriend! They are totally enwrapped in each other. There's a little boy next to them, watching from his stroller, and a newspaper is fluttering in the draught from the train!"
His smile was bright.
"You're Edward Cullen!"
Her fingers flew to her lips. She had seen many, many of his works, admiring the wistfulness, the sense of longing in his pictures depicting everyday life. There always seemed to be some sadness to them, but also such beauty, as if to say, "It is what it is."
"That would be me." He watched her with a little crease between his eyebrows.
"I love your work," she stammered. "I… I didn't know…"
"Well, how would you? We only met once before today, and then I was yelling at you like an asshole."
"I'm embarrassed. You're famous!"
He shrugged one shoulder.
"It doesn't mean anything."
"You can't be serious."
Edward took his coffee mug and took one slow sip.
"My work means everything to me. The fact that people seem to like it, that they are willing to pay ridiculous sums, means that I can make a living from it. I'm thankful for that. That I don't have to sit in an office all day, or…"
"… or wait tables?" she finished for him.
"I'm sorry. I don't seem to be able to say anything to you without insulting you. I guess Ro is right, I'm too much alone. I've become a boor."
"You're not," she said quickly, and a sudden wave of tenderness washed over her heart.