Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or Facebook or anything created in the real world that is mentioned in this chapter and/or any other chapter in this story.

Monday, July 12, 2010

Dear Edward,

Because I have nothing better to write about:

Flashback:

November 25, 2009. It was the first day I was back from college. And, of course, I had a movie night with you. What were we watching? Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. It was part of your master plan, of course. You had insisted time and time again that those three movies were the best of all time and that I had to watch them. So, you devised a plan: we watch every movie together, one per time I came home. (Can you believe it? I got to come home only three times, though the first two we made the most of our short days together.) That night kicked off the trilogy of visits home and LOTR.

Holy bejeezus, I was so excited to see you. Three months was such a long time! Sure, we had talked literally every day for probably two hours per day, but I grew to realize very soon that nothing was like hanging out in person. I remember my heat thudding hard in my chest as I rang your doorbell and there you were, just as you looked when I last saw you three months beforehand. I'm pretty sure you wore my favorite shirt of yours, which was your green plaid one. Dear Lord, you always looked good in that shirt. Damn. You wore a crooked smile that I always found endearing as you said "Hey" and you stepped onto the porch to bend down and hug me. God, it was so nice to do that again.

And that was the first encounter I had with you that Thanksgiving break. Later that night, on the couch in your basement with that god-awful pillow between us, you mentioned that it was our first time hanging out at night. I tried to be sarcastic about it with a dramatic "Ooh!" but my heart trilled inside. Just the fact that it was at night made me antsy and nervous, but in a good way.

We watched the movie, me completely lost and asking what I'm sure you thought were stupid questions. The whole time I thought we were the most awkward pair in the world, sitting alone in your basement on a big couch with the damn huge pillow taking up any free space between us. We were literally wedged in the corners, confined by the pillow and the armrests. I hated that pillow. But it was a good movie, I had to admit. It was just a tad confusing. You had obviously watched it many times because you just spitted out the characters' names like it was nothing and pointed out little details in the set that you found interesting or funny. You were such a fantasy geek. It really wasn't my cup of tea, but I had fun because I got to spend time with you.

About a week later, when I was safely hundreds of miles away and you couldn't tell me in person—things are so much easier to say to a screen than to a face—you told me about your first reaction when you saw me that November night. You said I looked so much different, prettier. I scoffed at this because how could I look any different after only three months? You told me that you were taken aback by my appearance; it was that different, but in a good way. I believe you told me that you just thought "Wow" or "Whoa" or something like that. Some kind of interjection. I don't want to mis-quote you, Edward, that's why I'm telling you the uncertainty of my memory. Feel free to correct me if I get something wrong.

But I thought about what you said for a while. Sometimes I still think about it. I assumed at first that you were just trying to be nice and make me feel happy about myself. But then I thought back to that first time on your porch and how you kind of lost your own words. It was like you didn't know what to say to me. Hell, I didn't really know what to say, either. Yes, we talked so much, but seeing a person for the first time in so long is an experience in of itself.

Maybe these assumptions and observations are all in my imagination, though. That's a very valid possibility. But I don't think you were lying to me. You thought me pretty. No one has ever called me that before, Edward. My heart practically jumped over the moon, I was so elated. You, a straight guy, called me pretty. I didn't really believe it, but I thought that maybe if you thought me attractive—which you must have, otherwise you wouldn't have told me how pretty I became—then maybe, just maybe, we would end up as more than friends.

Wrong. We're ending up as less than friends, less than even acquaintances. We're ending up as total strangers.

Tonight, just an hour or two ago, Renee told me that my hair looked pretty. I assumed that it was because of the little braid I had on the side of my head, but she said no, it looked lighter. Not in color—I was still the chestnut brunette—but as if it weighed nothing and decided to float around my face, but in a good way. And I thought that maybe Edward would think my hair was pretty, too. That is, if you would ever see me again. I don't think you would want to, but you can always prove me wrong. And I don't think you think me pretty anymore, either.

Love?

BMS