Hey everyone! Thank you so much for all the support sent my way, unfortunately I didn't get a chance to answer all of your reviews but will try to do a better job with it in the future.
Pippapear is my one and only fic-ticious love, even if einfach_mich makes me think about cheating... Just a little :)
By Friday, my days were again marked by a pattern - a brand new pattern, but one all the same.
Going to school with Edward was no longer a necessity, as my renewed and gleaming black Ford was back in its spot in the driveway, but that didn't stop him from picking me up, and didn't stop me from wanting him to do so.
At lunch, even in the middle of all the other students, we were able to forget. Forget everything and anything and just talk about topics ranging from inventors, painters and music to history and science. It was a wonderful fantasy we got to live, within the simplicity and richness of deep words whispered over the sound of the rain hitting the roof of the cafeteria, as if there were no other voices - demanding, critiquing, examining. We'd pull each other out of the limelight by the sheer force of our denial because between us, early as it was, acceptance existed.
It was the best hour of my day.
Biology was long and hard to endure, especially since we were often working as partners on things we already knew. Sometimes I just wanted to break him out of that class altogether and ask him to drive me somewhere far away. Running from reality was, after all, my signature move.
The only difference was I didn't want to run from him, but with him. So we could just keep on talking, so I could discover him some more.
Of course, these were just daydreams.
As I stepped away from the cashier, tray in hand, en route to our table, I told myself I'd just appreciate the next hour to its fullest and then endure Biology while trying to absorb some piece of Edward's that I could keep with me over the weekend.
His first words as I approached him surprised me, though.
"Tell me all about your past."
Buying time, I made a fuss out of getting comfortable in the small chair.
"Why the sudden interest?"
"It's not sudden," he clarified, smiling softly. "I just think we've been getting to know each other's opinions... But skirting around really talking about ourselves."
I opened and closed my mouth, facing the tabletop, and finally decided on getting a pencil and sketchbook from inside my bag. I'd been dreading said conversation, for many a reason, but he was right.
"Alright. Ask anything you want... But afterwards I get to do the same," I agreed, chuckling nervously, and took a peek over his shoulder.
The rest of the Cullens, not eating their lunch at a distant corner of the cafeteria, seemed completely oblivious to our existence, except for Alice. She mouthed a "Hi" as I was looking, and I returned the gesture.
In the meanwhile, Edward spoke:
"I'll answer your questions to the best of my ability." I narrowed my eyes at him. "I won't lie," he guaranteed, and I concentrated on the blank page before me, ignoring my lunch, silently giving him his overture. "Where were you born?
"You're definitely going for the jugular," I remarked, and his face contorted for a second before returning to polite interest.
I told him of my parent's lightning wedding and its short duration, resulting in me. A product that didn't keep Renee from leaving my father high and dry when I was barely six months old.
As I spoke, mechanically, I lent my hand the focus. No, her eyes are farther apart... And her cheekbones are softer.
"I'm sorry if this sounds crass, but Charlie was a police officer. Your inheritance..."
"Isn't exactly my inheritance though, technically, since Charlie passed away, it is now. My father had an uncle, an army man with no descendants. He'd promised to help around during my dad's childhood, and he didn't, so I guess his last act of redemption was to leave all of his earthly possessions to his nephew."
She was turned to her left with her elbows slightly bent...
"When was this?"
"I think I was about six," I clarified, looking up from the drawing to see Edward leaning over the table, his food completely forgotten - a habit, for him.
"Can I ask...?"
I didn't let him finish.
"Enough for us to live comfortably on the interest alone."
Edward looked pensive after that.
"So there was Charlie, a twenty-five year old man raising me all by himself in Forks... You'd think he'd buy the whole town, right?" I joked, and turned once more to the drawing. "He didn't. We didn't get a bigger house, or a better car. Charlie didn't quit his job, and I kept going to school. Everything went on almost exactly as it had."
"But why?"
"Why not?" I countered. "My father used to say that buying things we truly didn't need was just wasteful. That the need, the desire to have better and bigger things was just the product of pettiness. Of taking pleasure in others' envy of our good fortune."
I need to translate it in light and darker shadows, but not heavy... There's a lightness to her shape...
"Your father sounds like a wise man," Edward remarked, and I swallowed, not looking up from the drawing, but nodding firmly. As much as I gulped, I couldn't swallow the ball of knots residing in my throat, the infectious sickness of regret. "Still, as a little girl... You must have wanted better things."
"Charlie was always worried about our safety," I explained, "and he presented a good case. If we let anyone know we were that wealthy, we'd be putting ourselves in danger. He was afraid we'd be preyed upon. That someone might try to harm me."
"Very wise man," the boy in front of me remarked, and I consciously registered what I'd known for a long time: Edward, very much like Charlie, had an overprotective streak to him. "But it must have been hard for you, living isolated. Hiding a secret."
The locks of hair are jagged, overlapping... Meant to look as if they're frenzied.
"Not really. I understood my father's concerns, and I made it my job, as a good daughter, to do as he asked."
"You found no use in this inheritance?" he insisted, over the sound of my scraping pencil.
I smiled.
"I didn't say that. Having money offers you... safety, and the chance for adventure. On one side, it's wonderful to know that I'll never be stuck in a job I don't like for money. That everything I might need can be taken care of. On the other, I'm free to do as I wish. That freedom is reason enough to pursue wealth. Probably the only good reason at all."
"But you didn't spend it?"
"I didn't say that either," I countered again, and set the drawing face down, sensing his stare, and knowing that it was killing him that he couldn't see it. He'd grown more and more curious by the day, regarding me and my drawing abilities both. But the present took a back seat to the memories that came rushing to me - some real, some snapshots that Charlie had taken with his old Polaroid camera. "We traveled," I supplied, finally. "We'd go away for one or two weeks at a time and visit places we'd only heard or read about. It was... amazing. I learned so much about my father. He was an avid reader, probably because, with me to take care of, he never got to go to College."
"Where did you go?"
I smiled widely in pain and nostalgia to tell him: "Everywhere. I think I'd visited every continent but Antarctica by the time I was twelve."
"Sounds like you were happy back then," he noted, and I wondered if it really was that evident in comparison. I wondered if it was just him, with his watchful attention, or if anyone could see it, just by looking at me - the image of a girl who'd known real happiness only to sink in the reverse of it later. Nothing but memories to hold on to. "Why did you leave town, if everything was going well?" Edward continued, probably thinking he wouldn't get an answer otherwise.
"Forks will be Forks," I started, my voice dripping with sarcasm and contempt. "People started talking. Everyone knew we were alone in the world, so, as our trips got more frequent, we couldn't come up with a good excuse to cover for our disappearances. Charlie talked to me about it, and we both agreed it was for the best to move to a bigger city. We'd been to London, we loved it there... So we went back for good."
"At ten years of age, you helped your father with that decision?" he insisted, leaning on his elbows, something in the realm of fascination taking over his face.
"We decided everything together."
Until the day we didn't.
Edward was ready for more questions, I could tell, but I couldn't keep going. It was harder than I thought - reducing my past into simple words in short phrases while trying to quell the desire, the burning need to go back and do everything differently.
So I got up, and the boy in front of me seemed to lose his North as I did.
"Where are you going? Lunch hour isn't over for another twenty minutes."
"I'm not hungry. Walk with me," I pleaded, without plastering a fake smile, a cruelty he didn't deserve.
As we left the packed room, with teenagers spreading to the sides to let us pass - a mass that I'd learned to think of as solid wooden gates, unfeeling and sightless - I felt Edward's hand on my lower back.
Though taken by surprise, I found myself enjoying the contact as he seemed to predict with astonishing accuracy the exact moment one of the freshmen stumbled in front of me, saving me from crashing into him.
Once out in thecorridor, his hand slipped away from its spot and his eyes searched for mine as I went to lean against one of the lockers.
"I'm sorry if I pushed you," he told me, quietly.
"You didn't... I'm just out of practice when it comes to talking about myself," I replied, knowing he wasn't referring to his own touch. "Here."
I handed him the drawing I'd worked on during our conversation, and, as minutes ticked away, I just observed his golden eyes as they roamed it, undoubtedly recognizing his own sister.
"You captured Alice so well," he finally acknowledged, eyes flicking to me with that same look on his face. "Her innocence, confidence and playfulness are all here. Can I show this to her?"
"Of course, I just hope she likes it. I'd do a better job with proper pencils and color..."
"I like it this way. Raw and unfinished. Beautiful and haunted."
Is he still talking about the drawing?
The corridor was empty, but, even it it hadn't been, we'd still be alone. Notwithstanding the small gap between us, there was something about being between him and a hard surface that made me gulp, and something screamed louder than my thoughts. My own blood. Come closer, I won't bite.
The sensation, though hard to comprehend, was a sickening pleasure that came with simply being near him - it had probably always been there, surfacing with proximity.
And, certainly not for the first time, I wondered what was it. What was it that made him so different from anyone I'd ever met. That made me sure I'd never find someone remotely resembling him.
"Do I get to ask the questions now?" I asked, quietly, trying to regain some measure of control.
His curious eyes, always so ready to take in, flashed, and he recoiled.
"There's not much time," he nearly whispered, without looking at his watch. "Maybe when I take you home?"
I nodded and we made our way to the chamber of torture. That's Biology for the rest of them.
His chair was nearly touching mine, but we still tried to concentrate as best as we could - we honestly did. But the class theme was respiration, and I couldn't even focus on breathing.
I thought about getting my sketchbook out, but then he'd just hover over my shoulder, trying to take a peek, making it even harder to appear as though I was listening.
So I settled for whispering him a question:
"What's playing on your mind?"
He genuinely grinned, just a cute boy being cocky, and whispered back his answer:
"Pink Floyd's Another Brick In The Wall."
I had to suppress a loud snort, as Mr. Banner had us on his radar already.
We don't need no education, indeed.
After trying anything short of building paper airplanes to distract ourselves, the bell finally rang.
Then, the tension was worse.
The curtain was falling on the week we'd spent together, and the anticipation of separation was a barrier all in itself. I could have asked him questions during the short car ride, but I was busy observing him and the world as he was with me.
As I mulled this over, feet tucked under me on the comfortable seat, his phone rang briefly to signal a text.
"Do you want me to check that?" I asked, politely unmoving, letting him know it was an offer out of courtesy, not curiosity.
"No, that's okay; it's probably just Alice."
Two minutes later, it rang again. And again.
"Definitely Alice," Edward told me as he turned onto my driveway, driving maniacally as usual. Good thing I liked the speed.
He seemed to hesitate, looking straight ahead and gripping the wheel. I was tempted to put down a new one on my short Christmas list for him.
"How about we do something tomorrow? Whatever you'd like. Maybe a movie?"
I was actually a little insulted that he suggested something so mundane.
"I don't think so, I'd prefer something physical instead," I smiled, throwing him off for a second. "Hiking would be nice."
"I know some good trails, and I can bring the gear."
As we were setting the time, his phone chirped yet again, and he looked apologetic.
"You should probably head home. We'll have time for questions tomorrow."
"I have time for one now," Edward hedged, looking like he was stuffing his hand in a fish tank full of piranhas.
And there was one question that wouldn't take much time, or require a follow-up. One that he could give a simple answer to.
"What do you want from me, Edward?"
He grew serious and upset, and, for the first time, he actually stuttered.
"I don't want... it's not as if I don't want anything to do with you, all I'm saying is, I'll accept... I'll be fine with... whatever you're fine with. Even if it's what we have now, something entirely platonic."
I shook my head, feeling my own curls bounce against my temples, wanting to laugh.
But wanting to do something else even more.
The collar of his button down shirt, impeccably straight as always, screamed to be fisted and held. It felt smooth in my hand as I tugged on a very shocked Edward, getting closer to close down the distance.
I took a breath as we got nearer, and it didn't escape me that he wasn't cooperating nor fighting me. Just letting go. I looked in his eyes - golden still, but swirling to something darker. Of all things, it was his scent that make me balk.
His lips were there, swollen red against pale canvas. Ripe fruit.
That's what they tasted like on my tongue, and I moved against him, slowly, careful not to scare us back to reality. Tasting.
Suddenly he was there, sharing it - not just receiving, tauting me further. I had to weave my hand through his hair and pull him closer, feeling one of his hands coming to rest on my headrest and another at my waist, soft pressure in a pattern of swirls with the pad of his thumb, mimicking the movement of his mouth on mine.
We broke the kiss, both panting, and locked eyes. He actually leaned in again before winning the battle over himself and sitting back down, with pitch black eyes and mouth agape.
"Edward?" I asked, voice hoarse against my best efforts.
"Yes?"
"Platonic is overrated."