Please Note: Alternating points of view—Bella/Edward/Bella

11. Song of mine

Once sated, and finally over my statutory period of revulsion, I sat on the damp ground listening to the semi-silence of the forest. It was reassuringly normal, but now that I had enjoyed spending time with Riley, talking with him and doing something as simple as reading side by side, it didn't seem quite enough.

What kind of a monster was I? Riley had been so kind to me and the thought of him waking and finding me gone almost hurt. I should have said goodbye. I should have stayed well away. I could have killed him… but I hadn't.

Nothing had changed when I crept back in through Riley's apartment window. I set my bag back down on the floor beside the couch and walked silently into his bedroom. I must have spent an hour or more just watching him sleep before I began to feel like some kind of creepy stalker and went back to the other room to read.

When Riley left early for college the next morning, freshly showered but in the same clothes as he'd worn the day before, he handed me his spare keys in case I needed to go out. It seemed incredibly trusting, but the most valuable item he had was probably his laptop, and that was in the canvas messenger bag slung across his body.

I wanted to do something to thank him for being so kind, if a little reckless with his own safety. I started in the kitchen, clearing the stack of dirty dishes and scrubbing the sink until it shone. Next, I wiped down the countertops, the cabinet doors and the stovetop. The refrigerator was surprisingly clean, on the inside at least, and it was reasonably well stocked with food for one.

Rummaging in the cabinet under the sink, I found some cleaning products, some cloths and a bucket. I got down on my knees and scrubbed the floor tiles, and then leaving them to dry, I tiptoed across the mess on the bedroom floor and ventured into the shower room.

Before long, the sink and the mirror were gleaming, though they were past ever looking like new again, and the toilet was white and shiny. I, however, felt grimy, despite my inability to perspire.

Everyone knows that the best way to clean a shower is to strip naked and get into the enclosure, don't they? I threw my dirty clothes on the floor just outside the shower room door, grabbed a cloth and several different spray bottles and got down to work, but I should have thought things through better.

The water thumped through the old pipe work, spurting and sputtering until it flowed evenly. I scrubbed and buffed the tiles, the tray and the chrome until the shower enclosure was as good as it was ever going to be without new grout and sealant.

By the time it was finished, I was lovely and clean too, but also dripping wet without a towel or a clean piece of clothing in sight.

Intending to make a quick dash to the main room for my backpack, I opened the shower room door and stepped out into the bedroom, coming face to face with a very surprised Riley.

…

Tanya leaned over the top of the piano, watching my hands.

"Will you teach me to play, Edward?"

"If you like," I said, looking up at her.

In seconds she was sitting between my thighs on the piano bench, her backside pressed firmly against my groin. I had a momentary urge to wrap my arms around her and run my hands over her chest, but got a hold of myself, figuratively speaking, and wiggled back a couple of inches. I focussed on her thoughts. They were innocent. She genuinely believed that was how I would show her what to do.

"Er, Tanya," I said, lifting one of my legs backward over the bench and moving around to sit beside her, "no piano teacher worth their salt sits behind their pupil like that."

"Oh," she said, looking a little embarrassed.

I reached for my manuscript book and pencil and quickly wrote some notes on the stave. Pointing to the first, I took her right hand and placed her thumb on the corresponding key.

"This is Middle C," I said as the note rang out.

Coordination and memory retention are both skills that one acquires when one is turned into a vampire, but musicality is innate. My sister, Rosalie, had always been technically proficient on the piano, a fitting companion for duets, but she lacked the ability to express any depth of emotion in her playing. In truth, I think she was afraid to emote anywhere but in private with Emmett lest she show signs of weakness.

Tanya, however, even playing the simplest of scales, seemed to have a natural feel for the instrument. She would be rewarding to teach and eventually make a heavenly partner for piano four hands.

We sat for hours side by side while she followed my instructions, and for the first time in an age, I began to feel some semblance of self worth.

"We should hunt soon, Edward," she whispered as daylight faded. "Then I'll show you exactly what I can teach you in return."

…

Riley turned away from me immediately. "I'll get you a towel," he said, his voice sounding strained as he opened the door to his closet. He then proceeded to walk backward with his arm outstretched behind him. I snatched the bath sheet from his hand, rubbing it quickly over my hair before wrapping it around my body.

"I'm decent," I said. "Thank you."

He made a funny squeaking noise then turned to face me. "Sorry. I didn't think that…"

I looked at him nervously. His eyes were half closed, his lips were pressed together, and his cheeks were a little flushed. Sensing that wasn't the only place where his blood was pooling, I couldn't help but glance down at the lower half of his body.

"I, um… I'll just go and get dressed in the other room. Could you give me a minute?" I said.

"Of course," he replied. Then ever so quietly he said, "I think I need a few myself."

My mind whirled while I rushed to get dressed in some clean clothes. How had I not heard him come in? How I had not noticed his scent? Perhaps I had been a little overzealous with the bleach, and the antiquated plumbing definitely had a lot to answer for.

Dammit! I'd also been singing at the top of my voice, and he must have heard me because I was at that moment listening to him humming the very same song I'd sung in the shower while he moved around his bedroom. I slumped down onto the couch and cringed with embarrassment, not knowing which was worse: him seeing me naked or him hearing my total lack of intonation.

"What have you been up to today?" he said, smiling as he walked into the main room, his arms overflowing with dirty clothes and bedding.

"I wanted to thank you for letting me stay here. Cleaning is something I can do to help."

"I don't know what to say. It wasn't necessary, but it is very much appreciated. I guess I should do something about the rest of the apartment."

"I can—"

"No, Bree. You take a rest. I'll just take these down to the laundry room."

"My clothes need—"

"I've got them," he said as he strode out of the door. If he bothered to look at my clothes before he put them in the machine, he would notice most of them were riddled with tiny holes, frayed hems and blood stains. I'd hidden a lot by layering and wearing my big, pale grey hoodie.

Five minutes later he was back, rummaging in the cabinet under the sink for his box of washing powder. Then, in another five, he was back again, standing in front of me, shifting from one foot to the other.

"There's a pretty good thrift store down the street. Would you like me to help you find some new clothes?"