A/N: Yay! Writing at work again!
Thanks for the reviews… please keep them coming. A few of them have confused me a bit, I'm not gonna lie, but if that's what the story means to you then enjoy.
Anyway, I don't feel like talking anymore. I don't own the characters portrayed in this story, merely the language used to portray them.
Chapter Eleven
"So…" I said quietly, looking at Edward for a moment before shuffling my feet awkwardly and gazing intently at the floor.
"So?"
"Never mind," I muttered, sighing like a petulant child and walking back to our lab table to retrieve my backpack and a pen.
He stood rooted to the spot, watching me grab my things and relocate them to a table across the room. He looked confused, curious, frustrated… whatever. Worrying about how I'm being perceived by this boy takes too much damn energy, and I'm tired of putting forth the effort. He's seen my trip like a fool and punch myself in the face already, anyway, so what's done is done.
I took a seat and threw myself into the packet in front of me, knitting my brow and shaking my head slightly when I realized that Mr. Banner had simply compiled a list of AP practice questions pertaining to mitosis. What a jackass. Did he not realize that I had already been taught this on an AP level? Was this supposed to be hard? With a dramatic sigh, I began working quickly through the questions, questions I had seen before.
I was halfway through the second page when the feeling of someone standing in close proximity made me look up.
"Do you need any help?" Edward asked, standing on the other side of the table and leaning towards me as though trying to see my work.
"I'm fine," I replied curtly, answering another question before looking back at him again. "Don't you have work to do?"
"Oh, don't worry about me," he said with an all-too-familiar smirk that made my stomach warm and my blood boil.
"Trust me, I don't."
His lips twitched and his expression faltered, but just for a moment. I couldn't tell if I had hurt his feelings or not, but a wave of guilt washed over me and I realized that I was being rude for no reason.
"So, Mr. Cullen," I began with practiced nonchalance, pretending to continue working on the packet in front of me, "where were you today? Anyplace interesting?"
"I was hiking," he replied with a shrug, pulling up a stool so that he could sit across from me.
"You were hiking in the rain?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and ignoring the work in front of me. I hadn't expected that answer.
"Yep."
"So, is rain a prerequisite for all of your hiking excursions?"
"No, just a plus."
"And why is that?"
"The woods are less crowded when it's raining," he said, his lips twitching again, "less people."
"A chance to commune with nature on a more personal level?"
"Something like that."
"Ah," I nodded, still not understanding.
"So what about you, Ms. Swan?" he purred, leaning closer, suddenly making it very difficult for me to focus with his lips so close, his eyes so intense…
"What?" I asked blearily, trying to buck the affect his proximity was having on me.
"What was up with the book during class? You don't strike me as the type."
"Oh," I said brilliantly, shaking my head slightly to try to lift the fog from my brain. "I was bored… I was trying to distract myself."
"Distract yourself from…?"
"My thoughts," I answered without thinking. Uh-oh. This could open up a very uncomfortable line of questioning…
"And what were you thinking about?" he smoldered, batting his eyes at me and placing a hand under his chin, propping his elbow on the table in a classic thoughtful pose.
"Nothing," I replied, too quickly.
"It does not seem like you would require a distraction from nothing."
"Nothing is boring," I countered. "I'm not fond of boredom."
"I would wager a guess that the bulk of your time spent in school could be classified as 'boring.' Do you read during every class?" he asked, tilting his head to the side as though trying to figure me out from another angle.
I shook my head.
"I didn't think so. So why did your particular line of thought today require such a conspicuous distraction?"
"Why did you feel the need to cut the first half of school in favor of a hike, only to return at the end of the day, with fifteen minutes left in class, and with no explanation for your absence?" I argued, cocking my head to the side, mimicking his posture from a moment ago.
"Touche," he muttered, drawing back a bit and looking at me uncertainly.
"Well?" I prodded.
"I, too, was trying to distract myself, I guess," he said cautiously.
"From what?"
We looked at each other across the table, eyes locked, hands twisting uncomfortably. This had escalated rather quickly into a sort of standoff. I had lost too much power over the past couple of days with him witnessing my clumsiness, my childishness. I needed to win this. I needed him to capitulate first.
He made a move to stand, but my hand shot out and gripped his arm, willing him to stay put. It was a reflexive gesture, and the action itself shocked me more than the temperature of his skin. His arm was like ice. Instinct told me to remove my hand from him immediately, both because of the startled look on his face and the freezing shock of his flesh, but I did not. I kept my hand in place, curling my fingers into his forearm and trying not to pass out from the life-altering feeling of my skin touching mine. In spite of his shockingly low body temperature, I felt a warmth spread through the parts of my hand that were touching him, as though we were generating a sort of buzzing electricity through our contact.
"From what, Edward?" I repeated, lowering my voice and keeping my eyes locked on his.
"Does it matter?" He asked softly, creasing his forehead, furrowing his brow.
"It does to me."
"Why, Bella?" his voice was still quiet, but it reverberated full of an emotion that I couldn't quite place.
I sat for a moment, dropping my gaze to look at where my hand rested on top of his pale arm, almost expecting to see sparks coming off of us where our skin was connected. Did I want to answer his question? No. Would I do it anyway? Yes. Because it felt too fucking good to touch him, to talk to him like this, and I wasn't about to ruin it by drawing into myself. I wasn't about to hide.
"Because you fascinate me. Because I'd like to understand you. Because I'd like to know what is going on in your life that necessitates a hike by yourself in the rain in the middle of a school day."
"Oh."
"Oh."
He withdrew his arm gently, lifting up my hand and placing it on the table between us, examining it for a moment before gently setting it down, nodding a bit to himself. He hadn't expected that answer. I was pretty sure he hadn't expected any answer. And now he seemed unsure of what to do.
We sat silently for what seemed like hours but was probably only a few seconds, and I tried desperately to ignore the feeling of loss coursing through my body at the lack of contact. When he finally spoke again, it was so quietly that I had to lean forward to hear him.
"It was you. I was distracted by you. I was trying not to think about you."
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry or dance or curl into a small ball under the table. My heart rejoiced, ecstatic that he had been thinking about me at all. My brain raced to keep up, trying to determine whether or not I should be offended by the fact that he had not wanted to be thinking about me to the point that he ditched school.
"Am I so horrible to think about?" I asked, trying to sound like I was teasing and failing miserably as I noted to the hurt that had managed to creep into my voice. This whole putting-yourself-out-there thing really sucks.
"I'm not used to thinking about people," he said carefully, staring intently at my hand where it rested still on the table. "I'm not… I'm not sure that I like it."
"Oh."
I felt tears well up behind my eyes. I felt my breath hitch in my throat. I felt rejection wash over me.
And then I felt an ice cold hand on top of my own and, god help me, the relief that washed over me at his touch, the comfort and thrill I got from his hand on mine could have fixed all the world's problems.
"I didn't mean it like that, Bella. Really, I just… I don't know how to explain it. People are generally very easy for me to read, easy for me to understand. I've never had to give anyone much thought, because I already know who they are, what they want. You," he said, gently tracing circles on the back of my hand with his fingertips, "you're different. I don't know what to do with it. I don't know what to do with you."
"You're good at reading people, huh?" I asked, trying to keep things normal, trying not to leap across the table into his lap and beg him to trace circles on other parts of my body.
"You have no idea," he said, chuckling darkly.
"Well, if you ever want to know something," I said, slowly flipping my hand so that he could explore my palm now, "just ask."
"I will, thank you."
"You're very welcome."
We sat for a moment, silence stretching between us once more. It occurred to me that we were here, in this room, at this time, for a reason, but I'd be damned if I let something like responsibility come between me and those beautiful fingers as they continued to idly play with my hand. It occurred to me that the me who sat here now was very different from the me who woke up and got dressed this morning. I occurred to me that this one conversation had changed everything.
"How's your wrist?" he asked suddenly, shifting his attention from the hand in front of him to the hand I had curled around my torso protectively.
"It's fine," I replied, shrugging. "No big deal."
"Thank you for seeing my father. I wasn't sure you'd go."
"Well, you didn't leave me much of a choice. Next time, don't subvert my friends, please."
"Don't fall again and I won't have to."
"I'll get right on that."
And suddenly his face was inches from mine, his deliciously sweet scent washing over me, his scorching eyes filling my vision.
"See that you do," he said seriously before backing away again, seeming to notice his proximity. He took his hand away from mine in the course of his retreat, lacing his fingers together in front of him as he sat back on the stool, a look of deep concentration taking over his features.
I must have reacted in some way because suddenly his eyes were on me again. All I could think about was that hand, those amazing fingers. All I could think about was getting them back.
"You have work to do," he said suddenly, jumping up from the table and crossing quickly back to our regular spot in the room. "I'm keeping you from it."
"You… I… really… I don't… mind…" I stammered. Losing his hand was one thing, but losing his presence entirely… I didn't think I could survive that.
But he didn't say anything. He didn't say anything and he settled back into his assigned seat, pulling the packet of "punishment" in front of him and leaning over it, seeming to concentrate.
"Edward," I called quietly. If he heard me, he pretended not to.
"Edward," I tried again, quieter still, my voice cracking.
But he was gone. He had pulled away from me. The intimacy, the honesty that had existed between us moments ago was lost. Shaking my head, willing myself to let it go, assuring myself that we would talk like this again, that a lot had been accomplished today and I should simply be grateful for the progress between us, I bent once again over my own packet, throwing myself into its completion with everything I had.
I thought I felt his eyes on me, but I didn't dare to look.
Fifteen minutes later, my work was finished and I was free. Gathering my things, willing myself not to look back at him, I strode up to Mr. Banner's empty desk and dropped my assignment on it with a thud, turning on my heel and moving quickly to the door, making it halfway into the hallway before pausing and taking a step backwards.
"Edward," I called, and this time he looked up at me. "I hope to see you tomorrow."
Our eyes locked and his lips twisted into the most gorgeous crooked smile I'd ever laid eyes on, making my heart stutter and then take off into a full gallop.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Bella," he said, his velvet voice doing all kinds of warm, tingly things to my body.
We looked at each other appraisingly for a moment longer before I nodded and continued out the door, moving quickly down the hall and out of the building, fumbling in my backpack for the car keys that had been hiding in the front pocket since yesterday afternoon when they'd gone unused, and practically skipping to my truck in excitement. The parking lot was practically empty, and I leaned against the driver's side door for a moment, melting into the metal and leaning my head back with a sigh.
Tomorrow.
I would see him again tomorrow.
Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough.
A/N: Started at work, finished at home. A nice balance, I think. Let me know what you think… this has gone in a very surprising direction, and I'm not sure if I'm digging it or not.
And, please, if you haven't read Darkness and Light yet, I'd encourage you to give it a shot. I'm not updating it at the moment, but that doesn't mean I won't be.
Anyway… REVIEW. Love ya. : )