The moment I stepped back onto the campus of Lakefront, it felt as though the events of the past few days had vanished almost entirely, as if they were but fictional creations of my own imagination as I walked through the normalcy of everyday life. Gone was Edward's secret other life, and his extraordinary skills with it. Gone was the spectacular mansion far in the suburbs, which housed every sort of lavish room imaginable, and it almost didn't seem possible to me that just that same morning I had been at a shooting range learning to defend myself, while now I strolled so carelessly about campus hand in hand with Edward, already having become an expert at ignoring the glares that he attracted, or rather I suppose, that we attracted. The headline this afternoon that was smeared across the campus was particularly brutal: Edward Cullen: The life of a fraud. He simply chose not to even acknowledge its presence as we walked across campus that afternoon, the swirling clouds continuing to cast the world in a desaturated light. I didn't notice the dreary world about me, for as always the world shone in complete color in my mind beneath the splendor of his incredible smile, as he walked me through the grand entrance to the communications building. I couldn't help but feel the distinct tightness of apprehension grasp about my chest as he embraced me outside of the entryway of my journalism class. I had neglected to inform him that I had written my human interest piece about him, about his heroism, his bravery, about him saving me in the nightclub from a trauma that I surely would have carried with my for the rest of my days. I would be forever in his debt for that evening, and I felt certain that this was a poor way to repay him. Still, as much as I wished that I could confess the deed that I had recklessly performed in the middle of the night by submitting the piece, something held me back. I was unsure whether I was scared of his reproach, or his disapproval, or if perhaps he would think that in some way I had betrayed his trust. I had, of course, been certain to reveal nothing about his secret or his personal life. I simply wished to show the world the person that he genuinely was. Certainly he wouldn't be angry at me, for my intentions were entirely pure. Still, I found myself unable to build up the courage to tell him, and for that I felt altogether contrite.
"I'll see you after class," he said as softly as velvet, pressing his flawless lips ever so gently against my forehead. I smiled lightly at my feet, overwhelmed by the turbulent mixture of fiery love, and apprehensive culpability that flooded through my mind in the moment. I resolved that I must tell him soon. I simply did not know when I would have the courage.
He released me from the warmth of his embrace, and I puckered my lips, blowing a kiss in his direction through the air, causing his lips to tug upwards along the edges into a subtle smile as I turned to enter the journalism classroom.
The atmosphere about the room was one of apprehension, though I assumed it was for a very different reason than my own apprehension, one of wondering whether or not their pieces would receive passing grades, or even more frightfully, based upon a few whispered conversations that reached my ears, whether or not Professor Cope would notice that they had turned in their assignments past the deadline of midnight the previous evening. It was something she was known to be rather intolerant of, and for a good reason. In the world of journalism, a missed deadline was license to lose your job. Why should our schooling should be treated any differently?
I took my seat in the back corner of the room, placing my backpack down on the left side of my chair, and pulled from within it my textbook and binder. As I waited for class to begin, I found my mind entirely blank as I stared across the space at the black computer monitors about the room, and allowed the pen in my hand to doodle aimlessly about the paper before me. It was only Professor Cope's entry into the classroom that drew my mind back to reality and I stared down at the paper before me. Written at least a dozen times across the page in my practically unreadable scrawl, was Edward's name, filling every corner of the page. I immediately ripped the page from the binder, my eyes darting about the room. Nobody seemed to have noticed and so I discreetly threw the crumpled piece of paper into my backpack and turned my eyes upwards to Professor Cope, who today wore her strawberry blonde curls back in a large bun.
"Good afternoon everyone," she said with a warm, professional smile. The room mumbled back at her rather unintelligibly. Her eyes darted about and she seemed as though she found something rather amusing.
"I see that you are all nervous about your human interest pieces. Am I correct?" she asked. Several heads nodded vigorously about the room, while others seemed to be wishing that they could simply melt into the floor never to be seen again.
"Well," she began with a smile, "I'm not sure whether this will be good news or bad news, but I did manage to finish reading all of your pieces this morning, although I did notice that some of you didn't quite manage to turn them in on time," she said, her eyes landing upon the girls who had been having a whispered conversation about their tardiness only minutes earlier.
"As I wrote in the syllabus, the penalty for missing a deadline is a fifteen percent reduction in your grade. I am sorry, but in the world of journalism, a deadline is a deadline. Perhaps next time you will remember that," she said, raising her eyebrow pointedly in their direction.
"As for the rest of you," she began, and I could feel the atmosphere about the room tighten considerably, and I myself felt a new hand of apprehension grip at my chest overtop of the already clenched tightness that I had brought into the room with me.
"… I must say, there were a few rather stand out pieces. I was very impressed. There were also a few that were – interesting," she said, though her tone of voice lead me to believe that she did not find them interesting at all, but rather very subpar.
"Overall however," she continued, "I was rather pleased with the body of work that you all produced, and to the student who managed to interview Aaron Coin, I'm not sure how you managed to do so, but your piece was very well written," she said. The fact that any first year journalism student managed to get an interview with the captain of the Lakefront University football team was absolutely astounding to me, though I had to admit I had certainly done several things that others about me would likely consider astounding in the last few weeks as well. I couldn't help but smile in slight awe at the path that my life had taken as of late. I had even managed to meet Aaron myself. It seemed that I was no longer certain of the girl that I was becoming. All I knew was that I rather liked her.
"I do however have one other piece of business to attend to," Professor Cope continued, smiling excitedly.
"As I mentioned when I presented this assignment to you, I have selected one of your pieces to be published in this month's edition of the Lakefront Gazette, after the editors have had a chance to look it over," she reminded us, and I felt the crushing weight of despair wash over my body. I knew that what I had thrown together in the darkness of night had been in no way exceptional enough to claim the prize that I so coveted. I had of course, reread the piece this morning, allowing my fully alert mind to dissect every line of what I had written, and though much of it had sounded excellent to me at the time, there was so much about it that I wished to change in the morning. I sighed to myself, mourning the missed opportunity before me, and wishing that I could have realized what I wanted to write sooner.
"The piece I have chosen was in my view, incredibly unique, being both exceptionally written, and rather enlightening," Professor Cope continued.
"The winner of the contest, and the article that will be published in the Gazette is the piece titled: Call it what you want, by Isabella Swan," she said. Her smiling expression met me head on as she stated the title of the piece, but my mind did not register the words she was speaking for I was so frozen in shock. I was entirely unsure if I had heard her correctly, but if I was not mistaken, it had sounded as though she had just read the name of my piece, followed by my name. I stared upwards at her in stunned bewilderment.
"M-Me?" I stammered, entirely certain that there had been some sort of mistake. What I had read just a few hours ago, that was penned by my own hand, could not have been sufficient. There was so much left that I wanted to change.
"Yes," Professor Cope said, nodding encouragingly at me. I felt the eyes about the room all turn to face me, burning into me with a multitude of emotions: awe, jealousy, and skepticism.
"As I said, it was both well written, and incredibly enlightening Miss Swan," she repeated nodding at me. I felt a brightness flood through me, as warm and filling as a home cooked meal, and a smile burst forth across my face as elation seeped through my disbelief and flooded every inch of my being.
"I – I don't know what to say – other than, thank you so much," I said almost breathlessly as my smile widened.
"It was earned Miss Swan. I'll be forwarding the piece to the editor after class. She will email you with some notes by tomorrow," she said with a nod, before she began instructing the class on our lesson for the day. I spent the majority of the class in stunned incredulity, allowing myself to marinate in the gratification of my accomplishment. But as the clock came ever nearer to the time I knew I was to be released from class, my joy began to be replaced by the powerful murky waters of dread. I knew now that I had done something terrible, that I had indeed betrayed Edward's trust, and that now, the entire school would know what I had done. As if his reputation hadn't already been tarnished enough by those he despised, I had sought to add further insult to injury, to strike him directly in the heart, something that he should never have to endure from one who supposedly loved him as I did. I felt instantly deplorable.
Upon our release from the class, I stalked out of the classroom weighed down heavily by my disconsolation, and though he certainly did not know what was wrong, Edward immediately noticed my sullen moon. His expression instantly contorted in worry from the bench where he sat across from the doorway. I lethargically walked to his side and sat next to him, careful to choose the side of him that was opposite his injured arm so as to not accidentally hurt him should I lean upon his shoulder. He stared down at me with concern, appraising my expression.
"What's wrong?" he asked almost in a whisper, and I could feel his eyes gazing down at me. I could not face him, not before admitting to him what I had done. I inhaled deeply.
"I – I won the contest," I admitted penitently, hiding my face entirely in his shoulder.
"Bella that's amazing!" he said, his voice rising in celebration of what should have been my triumph, although I detected his measured perplexity as to why I seemed to be so glum.
"What did you end up writing about?" he asked me, and I knew that the moment of repentance had come, that I could no longer escape what I had so carelessly publicized. He deserved to know me to be the Judas in his midst. I lifted my face from his shoulder meeting his eyes, and I could feel my terror threatening to strangle me from within as I gazed at him.
"Um – Actually – I um – I wrote about – you," I finished in a whisper. I saw his eyebrow slowly creep upwards as his expression suddenly harshened.
"I wrote about how you saved me that night in the club, though I did omit your skill, and of course anything to do with your secret," I admitted feeling my stomach sink all the way down my body until it rested in my toes. He stared back at me vacantly, his expression entirely indecipherable.
"May I read it?" he asked after a lengthy moment of stillness, his eyes meeting mine with blazing intensity, though I could not tell for what reason as he was hiding his every emotion from me in that moment with expert skill. I simply nodded, removing the tablet from my backpack, accessing my cloud storage to retrieve the article, and placed the device before him. I sat quietly beside him, allowing the waves of dread to roll through my body as his eyes scrutinously inhaled every word that had escaped my mind onto the page. His expression did not waver as he read, which did nothing but allow the chokehold of my fear to tighten its grip increasingly as he continued to glance down at my words. Only upon completing my piece in its entirety did his expression change, as he glanced up at me, his flawless features suddenly perplexed, his eyes glistening like molten gold.
"Is that how you truly feel about me? About what I did?" he said, raising a flawless eyebrow at me, his expression entirely unreadable.
"Of course it is," I said, glancing upward at him with an appalled expression.
"How absurd would it be for me to make all of that up?" I asked, shaking my head ever so slightly from side to side. He continued to stare at me without speaking for a while, some unfathomable emotion swimming in the vibrant depths of his eyes.
"What?" I finally asked at long last, unable to contain my thoughts any longer.
"I love you," he said, his hand bolting to the back of my head as his lips met forcefully with mine. I felt my apprehension shatter within my chest, giving way effortlessly beneath the force of his compassion. When he pulled away from me I couldn't help but stare at him, entirely confused.
"You – You're ok with this?" I asked him, entirely uncertain of what had just happened before me. He raised his hand upwards towards me, placing it gently against my cheek, holding my gaze powerfully with his eyes.
"You didn't say anything at all that would be too revealing. More importantly, you deserved to win, because this article is incredible. I had no idea that you saw me in this way Bella, and while I personally think that it's a bit ludicrous, it's still nice to know," he said smiling brilliantly down upon me, and I felt my heart begin to speed beneath its illustrious magnificence. I smiled back upwards at him, sliding myself in closer to his side. I felt an odd aura of contentment surround me knowing that he had enjoyed the piece of writing that he had inspired. I felt almost as though I had received his blessing to do so, and so I felt the gratification of my achievement slowly return to my body once more.
"I'm honestly still in shock," I whispered, more to myself than to Edward, but I saw his expression perk up at the sound of my voice, turning to look at me with an expression of perplexity.
"Why are you in shock?" he asked, his eyebrow raised in confusion.
"I just – I can't believe that I'm about to have a piece published is all. It doesn't seem real to me. None of what's happened recently feels real. This isn't my life," I said staring vacantly into the wall across from the bench on which we sat, not even noticing the blur of people passing quickly by us. Edward chuckled lightly, the sound of it as warm and comforting as a blanket on a cold night.
"Bella, this is your life," he said, chuckling in amusement, a warm smile gracing his unbelievably flawless features. His face was so handsome that I felt it to almost reinforce my notion that everything about me were simply imaginary.
"That's exactly what you would say if you were a figment of my imagination," I said, laughing with him, smiling broadly. He raised his arm slowly, brushing my hair over my shoulder behind me and brought his hand to rest upon it.
"If this is all imaginary, then I must say I'm in awe of your creativity," he said, chuckling at me.
"I just have one question?" he said, his lips twisted upwards in a grin.
"What might that be?" I asked, amused perplexity coloring my expression.
"If I'm imaginary, why can't I fly?" he asked, and I could not help myself but to laugh at him. He smiled, seeming content that he had elicited such a reaction from me, but how could he not, for he was not only compassionate, and charming, but witty to boot.
"Bella," I heard a soft voice call, a voice that I would recognize anywhere, and wholeheartedly welcome. I span about to see Angela approaching us from the other end of the hallway, on time exactly as I knew she would be, for I had been released from class ten minutes early. What took me off guard, was the man who was walking beside her. He was clearly younger than Edward, and not as solidly built either, being rather thin and lanky by comparison, with dirty blonde hair. I had to admit to myself that he was incredibly handsome, although it was significantly less apparent with him being so near Edward's flawless figure. Angela looked at him with the glistening eyes of enamorment, and I instantly understood who he was.
"Hey Angela," I said, lightly glancing up at her with a twisted devious smile, attempting to both respect her personal space, but simultaneously burning with curiosity about the man who stood beside her. If anything I simply wanted some assurance that he was in any way good enough for Angela, though I found the possibility of almost anyone in this school being good enough for the ever thoughtful Angela to be slim at best.
"Hey Edward," she said, waving at him, her face oddly apprehensive. He smiled back at her with his astounding brilliance and the man adjacent to Angela suddenly looked as though he were about to have a stroke as his eyes attempted to jump clear of their sockets as his gaze met Edward's, though his expression was not one of jealousy, envy, intimidation or even desire as I had seen in so many other men who had gazed upon him. It almost seemed that he was suddenly stricken with awe, as his eyes darted wildly between the two of us.
"Hello Angela. How are you?" Edward responded. I could see him gauging the suddenly frantic expression of the man adjacent to Angela as well, though by the subtle smugness of the smirk that was working its way across his face from the edges of his lips, his intuition had already completely solved the puzzle before us, while the answer still entirely evaded my grasp.
"I'm doing great," Angela responded smiling widely down at him, though I could tell by her expression that she was slightly trepidations about something, something that I suspected had to do with the entirely bewildered man next to her.
"Bella, Edward," she said to us, nodding in our directions at the mention of our names, "this is Benjamin, my – my boyfriend," She said, choking on her own words as she glanced down at us as though awaiting some sort of cataclysmic reaction.
"Ben, this is Bella and her boyfriend Edward," she said, turning to the man I now knew to be called Ben, who was still entirely too busy gaping at us to acknowledge her. Thus far, in my quest to determine whether or not he was worthy of dating Angela, he was certainly not off to a good start.
"I didn't realize that when you said I would be meeting your best friend Bella, you meant this Bella," he said wide eyed. I raised my eyebrow in his direction, not entirely sure what he meant using such an inflection on my name. Edward sat beside me chuckling to himself as he draped his arm about my back, pulling me closer to his side.
"This Bella?" I asked, staring at Angela with confusion, both about what he was referring to and also about whether or not I should be offended by it.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to…" Ben began in a smooth voice, but he suddenly froze, shaking his head slightly as though to clear his mind of whatever thought had been about to carelessly erupt from his lips.
"I just, I didn't realize that Angela knew such esteemed people," he said, his expression suddenly apologetic. Edward smirked suddenly, his eyes darting towards my face, before he returned his gaze to Ben.
"I'm sure that was the word you originally intended to use," Edward said with a light chuckle. Ben's extremely pale complexion suddenly burst into color as a crimson red shade stained his cheeks. He glanced downwards at the ground.
"No, no…" Ben began, but Angela stopped him, placing a comforting hand upon his shoulder.
"Ben," she began, looking upwards at him with reassurance, "Bella and Edward are two of the kindest, most thoughtful people I have ever met. Anything you've heard about them, it's all entirely false. These are two good people, who simply cared about each other so deeply that they didn't let the world stand in their way," she said, smiling down at the two of us and I couldn't help but to beam upwards at her. Her kindness would never cease to amaze me.
"Perhaps, we should start over," Ben suggested, raising an eyebrow downward at me.
"Hi there, I'm Ben Cheney," he said with a warm smile, and once again I could see that he was very handsome, though I myself had been entirely spoiled by Edward's majesty. He extended his hand outwards towards me.
"Bella – Bella Swan," I said extending my hand to embrace his, as he shook my hand firmly. I watched as his eyes darted beside me to Edward, sudden tension becoming readily apparent across his face.
"Ben Cheney," he said, doing a rather satisfactory job of attempting to mask the apprehension in his voice. He extended his hand outwards towards Edward, but Edward did not accept it, but rather, rose from the bench, towering several inches above Ben's blonde hair. Edward extended his hand out towards Ben, who looked almost fearful beneath the sudden stature of Edward's muscular body.
"Edward Cullen," he said, shaking Ben's hand firmly, a warm, brilliant smile spreading across his features, though I noticed that his smile did not reach his eyes, which remained calculating, almost penetrating. Ben seemed not to notice as he relaxed beneath Edward's seemingly friendly smile. I couldn't help but find myself perplexed by Edward and as he took his seat beside me once more, I shot him a questioning look. He glanced back at me, holding a finger up very subtly towards me, and I realized that he intended to explain himself the moment Ben was out of earshot. I nodded my head, satisfied that I would soon be in the loop.
"Well, I hate to do this to you Ben, but I promised Bella that she and I could spend some time together this afternoon," Angela said apologetically, glancing up at him with hopeful eyes.
"But I'll see you tomorrow in class," she said. I sighed glancing at Edward, and even though I knew that I would see him in but a few short hours, I couldn't help but long for him already. Still, I was incredibly excited to catch up with Angela, as it seemed that we had much to discuss.
"I suppose I'll see you later," I sighed, standing in tandem with Edward, gazing at him longingly, yet with a hint of inquisition still in my eyes. He moved towards me, embracing me in the warmth of his powerful arms, and held me tightly to his chest. He bent forward as he typically did, but instead of resting his lips in my hair, he nodded his head far enough that his mouth was directly beside my ear.
"He seems nice enough, but I swear if he hurts that girl I'll kill him," he whispered into my ear. I glanced upwards at him in stunned admonishment as I imagined the ease with which Edward would be able to overpower poor Ben.
"Not literally," he said, rolling his eyes downward at me as I chuckled at my own absurd imagination. Still, I suddenly understood the exchange that Edward had just had with Ben. Edward had been asserting his dominance, sizing him up, all because, as I had only just realized, he felt protective of Angela. He truly cared about my dear friend, and knew as well as I did the goodness of her heart. He did not intend to let anyone take advantage of her, and I suddenly felt as though my very heart were melting within my chest. Edward liked my friend, and she liked him. I truly did not deserve either one of them, and nothing could have possibly made me happier than my realization that Edward and Angela had actually become friends. I leaned up to look at his flawless complexion, beaming at him brightly as I pressed my lips against the soft splendor of his. He released me, smiling back at me forcefully.
"I'll pick you up as soon as you are ready," he said to me, nodding with a tender smile.
"I'll call you. I love you," I said, nodding back to him.
"I love you more," he said with a devious grin, though my heart still fluttered beneath his words disregarding their playful nature.
"Those are fighting words Cullen," I said, allowing a playful smirk to color my features.
"Oh are they? I think I can take you," he said smirking playfully at me.
"If you two are done being adorable…" Angela said, smiling at our antics, yet still obviously anxious to spend time with me.
"For now," I said playfully, watching Edward from the corner of my eye.
"This isn't over!" I shouted over my shoulder as Angela steered me away from where Edward and Ben stood behind us in the hallway. We walked for a ways simply enjoying the silence that surrounded us, as Angela and I often did when we were with each other. It was something in which the two of us found mutual comfort.
Angela had led me from the communications building out into the frigid air of the outside world when she abruptly paused before the lawn, which was now browning with winters approach, as the crumpled remains of the leaves blew about it swiftly in the strong wind, which threatened to take my scarf with its icy fingers. Angela turned about to look at me with a confused expression, almost as though she had just abruptly remembered some unpleasant thought.
"What is it?" I asked her with genuine concern. She paused, looking about hesitantly as though she were uncertain of whether it would be better to simply say nothing at all, before her eyes landed upon me.
"I had intended for us to go to the dorm but – Jessica will be there – with all of her friends. I wouldn't be surprised if she tried to attack you," Angela said, a hint of sorrow coloring her tone, her eyes watching mine carefully. It seemed so incredibly long ago that the turn of events with Jessica had occurred that I had nearly forgotten about them, though in reality it had not been so long at all. Yet, instead of sorrow, or rage, or even pity, all I felt was indifference, and an ever so slight amount of indignation towards her for destroying Edward's reputation about campus. I supposed it was her defamatory campaign for retribution that inspired me to write the piece that I had, and therefore, led to me imminently being published. All in all, I supposed that in reality, I should thank Jessica, an action that would likely infuriate her all the more. Still I could understand where Angela was coming from. It would likely be an altogether wiser idea to steer clear of any unnecessary conflicts.
"It's alright," I said, smiling at her.
"We can just go to the dining hall," I suggested. Angela nodded her head, smiling warmly, and we strode across campus, keeping our heads pointed downward to protect our faces from the numbing frigid chill of the wind.
Upon entering the warmth of the dining hall, we made our way to a table at the corner of the room, away from the crowded and noisy center of the massive hall, which was surrounded on two walls by various franchised restaurants. The open space was interrupted only sparsely by towering columns which were painted in various shades of green, purple and orange. It was, in my opinion quite the putrid color palate, but it did certainly give the space a unique character. I glanced upwards at Angela, who had sat across the table from me.
"So I'm assuming Ben is the reason you have been so heavily invested in the Audio Visual Program this year?" I asked, smiling slyly in her direction.
"Admittedly," she said, smiling slightly at the mention of his name. I understood that feeling all too well.
"When were you going to tell me that the two of you were dating?" I asked, shaking my head at her in disbelief.
"Actually, when were you going to tell me about him at all?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at her. She looked at me with the most bashful expression I had ever seen her make.
"You and Edward were going through a lot. I didn't want you to worry about me as well. That's all. You had so much on your plate," she said, smiling at me warmly. I knew it instantly to not be just an excuse, as that truly was the embodiment of Angela's personality: Selflessness.
"Besides," she continued, staring down at the table before her, "We haven't actually been dating all that long," she said, hanging her head as though she were ashamed by that fact.
"How long have you been dating exactly?" I said, allowing my curiosity to take the reins, even though I was well aware that Angela would never do the same were our situations reversed. I felt a twinge of guilt strike me as I became even more consciously aware of that fact.
"Well, I've liked him for months, obviously. You know how long I've been really working for the AV Program," she began, glancing upwards at me.
"But after seeing you and Edward together, having sat in class besides you, and silently routed for you for so long - well, when I finally saw the two of you together, against all odds, even after you thought you had been caught, and being able to watch the two of you simply care about each other so much that you both were so fearless of the consequences, I decided it was time to tell Ben how I felt. I did not want to be a coward. I wanted to be like you, or like Edward. So the morning that you and Edward were going to go before the board, I went to class as I always did, except that I did something I had never done before. I told Ben that I liked him, and he told me that he liked me too, and had just been too shy to tell me. So, he asked me to dinner that night, and the rest is history," she said, ending her story with a heartwarming smile painted beautifully across her graceful features. I smiled back at her warmly, as I couldn't help myself. I could not have been happier for her, for of all of the friends I had made at Lakefront, she was the one who most deserved this, deserved happiness.
"The two of you do look truly precious together," I said smiling, "… and he is very handsome," I said smirking at her playfully. She laughed at me jovially.
"Bella please, I watch you walk about campus all day with a supermodel," she said sportively.
"Still, I agree. He is quite the looker," she said, for once being slightly boastful. I couldn't help but chuckle at her, for I was so happy that she had finally gotten what she wished.
"What about you Bella? Is there anything new going on in your life?" she asked innocently. If only she comprehended the depth of what had happened in my life recently: my boyfriend and his family all secretly being hunted by dangerous people from about the world, having massive amounts of wealth that most people could not even begin to fathom, to myself learning to fight with as much skill as they themselves possessed. Quite a lot new was occurring in my life, and I was not at liberty to discuss any of it with Angela.
"Not really," I said, keeping my lie simple, and straightforward so as to not give Angela any indication of my fabrication. Suddenly a thought that I was able to share burst into my consciousness.
"Actually, there is one thing," I said, looking upwards from the table at her.
"Do you remember that human interest piece that I was struggling with," I told her attempting to keep my face as expressionless as possible.
"Of course. Did you find something to write about I hope," she said with a pleasant smile.
"Yes – actually – I sort of won the contest," I said, allowing an enormous smile to erupt across my face.
"Bella – that's incredible news!" she said, excitement lighting her face animatedly.
"They are publishing you?" she asked, reveling with me in my triumph. I nodded at her. She leaned across the table to embrace me suddenly, and I smiled at the wall behind her, soaking up the feeling of the moment.
"What did you end up writing about?" She asked once she had pulled herself back to her side of the table. I looked upwards pensively for a moment.
"Instead of attempting to describe what I wrote, would you rather just read it yourself?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at her as I offered her the option.
"It would likely translate to you better than if I attempted to actually ramble it off to you," I said with a light chuckle.
"Of course!" Angela, said excitedly, as I reached into my backpack for my tablet, and unlocked the screen, opening it to the article that I had written, the article describing how Edward had defended me with his own life, the article that I hoped would soon show Lakefront who the real Edward was. Angela's eyes skimmed the page at a furious pace as she absorbed my words. She had barely finished when her eyes darted upwards at me with alarm.
"You were attacked?" she said, concern flooding her features. I nodded at her.
"Are you alright?" she asked. I sighed ever so slightly. I should have anticipated this reaction, as she had no idea the extent of the skill that my defender had.
"Yes. I was a bit shaken but otherwise unharmed," I told her, smiling at her gently.
"Is Edward alright?" she asked, warming my heart ever so slightly. She genuinely cared if he were alright almost as much as she did for me. I liked the thought of that.
"As I wrote, he was injured, though not severely. My attacker slashed his arm with a knife," I said, feeling a shiver run its way through my body at the mere memory of what had transpired.
"But he's alright now," I said with conviction.
"Bella – this article – it's incredible. Edward is so – so – brave – to stand up for you like that. I don't know many people that would do something like that," she said almost staggered by the overwhelming reality of what Edward had done for me. Her eyes widened at me as she looked at me with amazement.
"Bella – he is genuinely in love with you," she said, raising her eyebrows at me in wonder. I smiled at her warmly, glowing in the elation that what she said was true.
"I know. I just hope that this article shows people the real Edward, the man that I love, not the fictional character that the tabloids have created," I said with a sigh, staring downwards once more at the table.
"Bella, I honestly doubt that anyone would believe he didn't care after reading this," she said, her voice ringing earnestly.
"They'll claim it was biased, because I'm the one who wrote the piece," I said, sighing, understanding the truth of my words as I spoke them. My article would change nothing.
"Bella – I hate to disagree with you, but I think you are wrong. This story is sensational, it just needs to be presented in the right media, and nobody would be able to argue against its authenticity," she said, staring at me with conviction.
"Bella, do you think that Ben and I could make a report of our own based upon your article. Could we interview you and Edward about this and telecast it the same day that the paper is published?" She asked me, her expression simultaneously excited, and yet hesitant, hoping that she would not offend me by asking such a favor. I thought over Edward's reaction, how he had been happy that I had written the paper, and that I had used the necessary amount of caution while penning it. Perhaps he could be convinced to do Angela this favor, as the both of us did owe her an endless amount of favors for her unwavering loyalty.
"I can ask Edward and see what he says," I replied honestly.
"He may not want all of the publicity, seeing as how his reputation was just rather thoroughly destroyed," I said, wincing as I raised an eyebrow in Angela's direction. I pulled my phone from my pocket, and unlocked it with the tap of my finger. I opened my inbox, and opened the messages that I had from Edward to compose a text to him.
Angela had a favor to ask of us. She wants to know if she and Ben can do a report based on my article. They would want to interview us. What should I tell her?
I pressed the send button looking back upwards towards Angela.
"Well, I asked Edward. We'll just have to wait and see what he says," I told her, smiling softly at her wishing that there was more that I could do.
"Thank you so much for even trying Bella. If he doesn't want to speak on camera I completely under…" she began, but she was cut off by the sudden chime that emanated from my phone. I picked it up off the cool surface of the table, opening the message with a tap. It simply read:
When?
"He wants to know when you wanted to do this," I told her, rather perplexed by the lack of detail in his response.
"Um – we can do it in the studio tomorrow morning if that works for the two of you," Angela replied. I started typing as she was talking.
Tomorrow morning? Is that a yes?
I sent the message, staring down at my phone, allowing my puzzlement to wash over my features.
"What is it?" Angela asked me, and my eyes darted up to hers to see her concerned expression.
"Nothing," I responded, wondering exactly how to explain away his erratic behavior without revealing more than I was allowed to.
"He's just being very, cryptic," I said glancing upwards at her.
"You like cryptic, remember?" she said reminding me of a past conversation that her and I had shared, long before I knew the secrets that were hiding in the shadows of midnight. I couldn't help but chuckle at the innocence of that time.
"I'm afraid I far more than like him," I said, continuing to chuckle to myself. Another chime rang outwards from my telephone, and I opened the message with the swipe of a finger.
For her? Of course. Tell Angela I'll see her tomorrow.
I smiled upwards at Angela, pleased that I would be able to deliver some good news to her.
"He says that he will see you tomorrow. I suppose I will too for that matter," I said smiling at Angela, happy to be able to assist her, and happy to have yet an even greater chance of showing the world who Edward truly was. She smiled back at me brilliantly. It felt good to be able to repay Angela in some small way for everything she had done for me, and for us, and yet I realized that even as I repaid her favor, she was doing me yet an even bigger favor. She was taking the world behind the curtain of the most incredible man that I had ever known.