A/N: Twilight is Meyer's. No copyright infringement intended.

Thanks for reading, and for reviewing.

I've had this little scene in my head for a while, and since a few readers mentioned the topic, I thought I'd go ahead and write it. It's a very short glimpse of Edward and Bella's sharing a class at Dartmouth.

October, middle of their first term. They're both 18.

BPOV

I swore under my breath as I raced down the hall. Class was supposed to have started six minutes ago, but I could feel Edward's electricity clearly as I neared the corner; he wasn't in the classroom. He was waiting in the hall for me. Just like I'd known that he would be.

I'd made us both late.

My boots skidded as I tried to take the corner too fast. I threw my arms out for balance and lost my grip on my notebook. It slapped to the floor and spun away from me. Typical.

I muttered and righted myself to chase after my stray binder. My little black sketchbook slipped out of it when I picked it up. I rolled my eyes and grabbed the sketchbook and the stray papers that had fallen out with it. I stuffed everything back into the notebook and turned to start down the hall.

And there was Edward, leaning against the wall by the door of the classroom and looking entirely too much like a Greek god to be human. Or to be waiting for a klutz like me. But he was smiling widely, his eyes vibrant emerald and shining with amused affection as he watched me rush up to meet him.

He straightened and reached out to take my books from my hands when I reached him. His free hand lifted to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "Hello, love."

"Hey," I replied breathlessly. I glanced toward the door. There was no sound of a lecture, only the drone of multiple conversations. "Is Dr. Berty late?"

"Yes. His TA came by to tell us he was having car trouble." Edward surveyed my flushed face and trailed his fingers down my heated cheek as I slowly caught my breath. "Where were you?"

"Tia started talking about Hassam, and I got distracted," I admitted, embarrassed.

Edward just grinned. "She picked a good day to find your weakness," he mused. "C'mon. Here comes Dr. Berty."

I let him take my hand and lead me into the classroom. He always escorted me to my first class in the morning before he headed off to his, but unless his session happened to let out early, he couldn't make it back in time to walk me to our shared second class. To make up for it, he always waited for me, either at the door of the building or directly outside the classroom like he had today, and he walked me to my desk next to his in the back corner of the room. I found his abbreviated version of "walking me to class" to be extremely cute, and I grinned to myself every time.

Edward set my notebook on my desk and sat beside me, keeping my hand locked in his as Dr. Berty hurried in and threw his briefcase down on his desk at the front of the room. After the professor apologized for his tardiness, he asked us to pass our homework assignments to the front. Edward reluctantly released my hand to open his notebook and locate his work.

As soon as he had passed his assignment forward, Edward pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled a note on it. He set it on the corner of his desk nearest me so I could see it. I pulled out a sheet of my own paper before reading his note; my reply would go on it and would be placed on the corner of my desk for him to see.

Neither of us really needed to pay attention in the first-year writing class – we both found the material to be rather predictable and boring – so we had worked out our message system very early on the first day. We communicated almost constantly during every lecture to keep our sanity intact. Since we weren't actually passing notes, Dr. Berty never caught on – even when Edward's comments would make me giggle.

Like this one.

His socks don't match and his shirt is buttoned wrong. Wonder why he's really late?

I covered my mouth to hide my snicker. I had noticed our teacher's disheveled appearance, too. I wrote back, Wonder if Professor Goff is late to class, too.

Edward grinned. It was amusing to watch Dr. Berty and Professor Goff, one of the Spanish instructors, flirt with one another. They always thought they were so sly about it.

For a moment, we listened absently to the beginning of Dr. Berty's lecture. I noticed Edward's gaze regularly drifting to me. Finally he wrote, Your hair has a little curl in it right next to your left ear.

I glanced over at him. His eyes were bright as he stared at my hair. I scribbled back, It's misty outside. The damp air often brought out small curls in my hair. He'd seen it before. We were from Washington, after all.

But it always seemed to get to him. There was a pause, then he admitted, It's driving me insane.

I rolled my eyes and reached up to smooth the curl behind my ear and drape my heavy hair over it to hide it. I saw Edward's fingers twitch on his desk. I knew how he felt. We had a thing for each other's hair. He'd be rather desperately wanting to bury his hands in mine right about now.

Deliberately, he began to move his fingers over his desk. Composing. Trying to control himself, I thought with a smirk.

It didn't work. A minute later, he scooted his chair closer to mine. When Dr. Berty wasn't looking, he reached over to tuck my hair behind my ear and expose the curl again. His fingers trailed down its length. He quickly yanked his hand back when the professor looked out over the class.

There were a few minutes of careful distance. Then Dr. Berty turned to write something on the board, and Edward moved his chair closer again. His finger lightly skimmed over the scar inside my left elbow, the mark left from his accidentally stabbing me with an arrow the day we'd officially met. His hand ghosted down my arm to trace the oval diamond on my engagement ring. He straightened again when Dr. Berty turned back to face the room.

I frowned over at him. He usually would reach over to touch me once or twice during class, but this was different. His chair was halfway to mine now, and his physical contact was lingering, not casual like it usually was. My heart was hammering in my chest. I liked his surreptitious touch, but I wasn't sure what was going on.

So I asked. What's up?

He glanced at my note. His lips curved and he shrugged. I shook my head as he went back to his composing. After a moment, I started to doodle in the corner of my notebook paper.

I'd almost completed a miniature sketch of Dr. Berty's comically unkempt appearance when Edward inched his chair closer again. His hand lifted to the side of my neck. I froze as his fingertips trailed down my throat. When he traced the length of my collarbone, I realized that I was holding my breath.

And I'd had enough.

I jumped up and headed out of the classroom. Dr. Berty barely glanced my way. He didn't care about bathroom breaks in the middle of his lectures as long as the student was quiet about it, so my silent dash from the room – albeit flustered and stumbling – didn't even slow his monologue.

In the empty hall, I took a few steps away from the door and stopped to wait. Less than two minutes later, the door opened again and Edward stepped out. He shot a fast glance around the deserted hall as he moved to meet me.

And before I could react, he pinned me against the wall with his body and crushed my lips with his.

For a moment, I was lost, surprised by the suddenness and the aggression of his kiss. His mouth moved urgently over mine as his body kept me still. But despite his forcefulness, he remained tender. His hands lifted to lightly frame my face, and his thumbs stroked my cheekbones, leaving electrical trails swirling over my skin as I thoughtlessly kissed him back.

Finally I came to my senses enough to pull back. My lips felt a little swollen as I tried to catch my breath. I noticed that Edward's attention was focused on my mouth, and before I could speak, he leaned in to press a soft kiss to my lips, a gentle apology.

"Sorry," he whispered against my mouth. "I didn't mean to be so rough."

"You weren't," I assured him. I reached up to skim my thumb along his reddened lower lip. "But I do wonder where the enthusiasm came from."

"You. Always from you." He smiled and rested his forehead against mine.

I cupped my hands loosely around the sides of his neck and set up an absent rhythm along his jaw with my thumbs as his hands worked their way under my hair. "Tell me what's going on?" I requested.

He was silent for a minute, staring down into my eyes. At last he began quietly, "Those last few weeks of high school… Every day I would think about what it would be like to have a class with you. To have you sitting right there next to me, close enough to touch, to feel your electricity. And now, to look over and have you there… Sometimes it just gets to me."

My fingers flexed at the nape of his neck. I knew exactly what he meant. After I'd met him, all I could think about was being close to him. I'd daydreamed about having him sitting in the seat beside me in every class. It was surreal to have him beside me now.

I closed my eyes as he played with the curl by my left ear. "It gets to me, too," I said softly.

His hand stilled over my hair. "You handle things better than I do."

"Hm," I mused. "Not really." I opened my eyes to look up at him again. "We need to finish class. But I want to skip the rest of the day. Go home. Make an early dinner and spend the afternoon with you." I paused, watching his lips curve. "Do you think you can behave the rest of the hour?"

"Now that I know we're going home after this, yes," he agreed mischievously.

I smiled, seeing a lengthy make-out session and movie marathon in our future. Most people would find the idea of skipping class to kiss and curl up together on the couch with a DVD or two laughably tame, especially after the heated prelude we'd just had. But for Edward and me in our pre-marriage stage, it was exactly right.

"We should go back inside," I reminded him.

He kissed my forehead and stepped back to let me go. "I'll be in in a minute."

I let my hands slide down his shoulders and the lengths of his arms. With a light squeeze of his fingers, I turned and ducked back into the classroom.

I'd started to add Professor Goff to my sketch of Dr. Berty when Edward slipped into the room and returned to his seat next to me. His hand immediately dropped into the space between our desks. I reached over and slipped my fingers through his. We didn't let go even when Dr. Berty called on me to discuss the short stories we were supposed to have read for homework.

The stories were standard English class assignments. I had read them in high school, and I'd also read them before that for fun, so I had no trouble answering each of Dr. Berty's follow-up questions during my discussion of the texts. Edward fiddled with my fingers as I spoke. When I was done and Dr. Berty moved on, satisfied with my responses, Edward grinned over at me. I recognized the mix of emotions in his expression: pride, admiration… and awe.

He didn't need to pull his hand free from mine to share his final message of the hour. His eyes were bright on me when he mouthed, I love you.

I smiled softly and replied, I love you. Then I tightened my hold on his hand.

And tried not to count the seconds until we could go home.