So, I started this little fic, after getting home from work last night. I was so tired, so I had to stop, and continue as soon as I woke up. This is not really planned out. It is just meant to be soft and fluffy. And smutty. I don't know how many chapters it has got in it, so be patient with me. It will be a few days before next update, as I will be very busy this weekend. Sorry!

This is a AU where Bella does not know of the existence of vampires.


Bella's POV

Bella wanted to study art. And where best to study it than Italy? Home of some of the best art in history. She had perused other places like Spain or the United Kingdom. But Italy appealed mostly to her. She had been saving every penny she could over a couple of years, and at the age of 19, she was finally ready.

She was now on a plane on her way towards her destination. Charlie had driven her to the airport, almost getting tearful, as he said goodbye to her. But she sensed that he was happy for her. She had been so excited for this journey. She would get to see art from the old masters! Leonardo Da Vinci, Michelangelo, Botticelli and much, much more. She felt her stomach flutter as excitement coursed through her.

She had been searching for art classes in Italy, and had found one, that didn't seem too full. It would start the day after her arrival. Luckily she had been able to find a small place to live. It wouldn't be too expensive, and she could find a job to help with the expenses. She was in fact having an interview almost as soon as she had landed. Everything was moving fast, but she felt confident in it, so it was fine.


Bella's POV

Bella was trying to find the shop, where she would be able to get work. It should be around here. She had her phone in one hand, a hot tea in the other, as she tried to navigate the cobbled streets, looking all over.

Feeling a little stressed, fearing she might be late, she turned a corner into a shadowy street, trying to look over her shoulder at the same time, suddenly feeling like she had spotted what she was looking for. She crashed right into a statue, making her lose vision of the shop she had been looking for, as she fell onto her ass. Suddenly entirely distracted, as hot tea spilled on her hand, and trousers, she looked around, hissing in displeasure, realising that she had hit another person, in fact. He had been standing just around the corner, and she hadn't seen him as she rammed right into his chest, spilling tea on him and her.

She swore under her breath, shaking her hand to alleviate the burning sensation, as her skin tingled from the hot liquid, but she immediately focused on the tall stranger, assessing the damage to him. He hadn't moved a muscle, and he was looking down on her, surprise edged into his face, his long, wavy hair swaying slightly in the warm breeze that swept through the tiny alley.

"I am so sorry, sir," Bella said, her voice shaking, as her senses returned to normal.

"I didn't mean to barge into you, I wasn't looking where I was going." She managed, trying to get up. A white hand was suddenly in front of her face, lending help. She looked up, seeing the stranger still frowning slightly down at her, his dark eyes roaming her figure a little.

"That is quite alright, my dear," he said. His voice sounded distant, almost dispassionate. She took his hand, barely registering how cold it was, as he pulled her up so fast, leaving her innards on the pavement.

She was standing so quickly, blood rushed from her face, and she nearly keeled over again. She released his hand, leaning forward, trying to make the blood come back. The world seemed to spin, and she suddenly was swallowed by a black whole, that was only a pinprick on the pavement a moment ago.

She dreamed a little dream, painting a creepy clown, being watched by this tall stranger. He lead her hand as she stroked the brush across the canvas, his chest pressed against her back, his scent enveloping her. He smelled like the ocean, salty, but a wooden note set it off, with a hint of bitter lemon. She breathed deeply. Her hand tingled fiercely from his touch.


Bella's POV

Bella came to, looking up into an impossibly blue sky. It was suddenly obscured by the stranger as it floated into her vision. He looked into her face. His long brown hair almost tickled her cheeks, as his frown preceded his mouth, which was only a thin line.

"I apologise, my dear. I think I made you faint. I am sorry for pulling you up too hastily."

His words took a few seconds to register, and she realised her hand was not tingling from his touch, but because of the hot liquid she had spilled. What a weird dream.

He pulled her to her feet again, this time allowing her circulatory system to follow. As she stood, she realised her phone was gone. It lay smashed on the pavement. Sigh. These smartphones were not made for such brutal kisses with pavements. Oh well.

"Are you alright?" He asked, and she realised she had not said a single word since passing out. She looked into his face, noticing his black eyes, and nodded slowly, teeth clamped together. She bend down to pick up her phone, looking it over. Suddenly his hand was on hers, as he turned it over, looking at her red and raw skin. The tea had burned her good. Suddenly Bella realised that he had been hit by a portion too, and his dark shirt revealed a wet spot above his belt.

Without thinking, she frantically pulled his shirt out of the belt to try and see the damage to his chest and stomach. His hand halted her movements.

"I am quite alright, I assure you," he said gently. She didn't believe him, and she quickly continued, fearing a law suit coming rushing her way.

"Really, miss, there is no need for,-"

Too late, she had revealed his skin. It was as white as his hands, but seemed unharmed. Her fingers skimmed the slightly damp spot on his skin, where she knew hot tea had hit him. Not so much as a red irritation showed. Impossible.

"As I told you," he said, a soft chuckle surfacing. "I am quite alright."

Her brain strained to follow his words, as her eyes took in his broad chest, lean stomach, abs showing, a smattering of dark hair leading tantalisingly into his trousers.

"Are you satisfied?" He chuckled slightly, before a look of puzzlement briefly crossed his face.

She suddenly realised she was touching this stranger in quite a private area, and her fingers released him, as she stepped back.

"Sorry," she mumbled, flushing fiercely in embarrassment, staring at the ground, not wanting to meet his gaze, suddenly embarrassed at her irrational behaviour.

He slowly straightened his clothes, not saying anything, a small smile lingering around his lips. She dared a small glance at him, seeing as he was now fully clothed again. He was handsome, though exceedingly pale for someone living in this climate. High cheekbones, dark eyes. She guessed he was in his early forties, his body still lean and powerful, well she had seen his abs for goodness sake. His dark brown hair fell to his shoulders in soft wavy lengths.

"You are hurt. Let me see your hand," he said softly.

She hissed again as his fingers grasped her wrist to assess the burn on the top of her hand.

"You should get some cold water for this," he said. "It should be washed until it no longer burns."

"I don't have time, I am going for a job interview." She said, tugging her hair behind her ears. It would have to wait until she got home. He peered at her curiously for a little while, then let go of her hand. Every move he made seemed so deliberate, that it was almost scary. He was extremely elegant. She felt like a fumbling primate beside this perfect specimen.

"Well, I am sorry for... Everything," She finally managed, turning to look at the shop she thought she had seen. Sure enough, it was across the street from the corner she was standing on. She aimed for it, carefully watching the traffic, not needing to be hit by a car on top of things.

As she walked, she had the strangest feeling, that the stranger was still watching her. As she reached the shop door, she turned around briefly glancing his way. Sure enough, he stood in the shadowy alley, watching her intently. She felt a shiver tip tap its way up the staircase of her spine. Shaking it off, she opened the door and entered. As the door closed, she glanced through the dusty window, and saw that he was gone. She realised she had been holding her breath, since leaving him, and she exhaled sharply, suddenly realising the reason she had been holding it in, was because of his tantalising smell. As she exhaled, it vanished from her senses, like a foggy breath on a cold morning. Weirdly, she felt a little bereft.

Don't be absurd.

She admonished herself, trying to prepare for the interview.


Bella's POV

The next day, she was seated in an old classroom filled with art supplies. Yesterday, she had gotten a job at a pet-shop and she felt pretty confident about herself. She looked curiously around the small room. Canvases were leaning against the walls behind her, every size imaginable. A sink was in the corner beside them. Shelves filled with paint and brushes framed the door on either side to the left of her seating. To her right, large windows filled the room with unfiltered daylight. As she stared out into the parking lot beyond, her mind briefly skimmed the memory of crashing into the tall dark stranger yesterday. Her brain had frequently revisited the meeting. It was like an irksome fly, not able to get away from a window, as it bounced into it again and again. She could tell she was quickly becoming obsessed with him. She felt frustrated, that she would probably never see him again.

Leave it. Nothing you can do.

She exhaled noisily and looked around for anything to distract her.

When she had found this course, she had been excited to see that there wouldn't be too many participants. Well, now she realised the catch. She seemed to be the only participant. Her heart panicked slightly, as she pondered the option of getting out before it would be too embarrassing. The silent room almost seemed to taunt her. She quickly gathered her bag and jacket, and raced for the still open door, only slowing down as she reached it. Suddenly her nose nearly crashed into a broad chest, and she jerked, skidding to a halt in the door frame, heart pounding in shock and nervous energy.

"Careful, miss, this is becoming a bad habit."

Looking up, she gasped loudly, inhaling that compelling scent again. It was him. She stood completely stupefied, looking up into his pale face, as he observed her.

"How is your hand?" He asked softly, his breath skimming her face.

"Fine," she croaked, almost too fast. He raised a graceful eyebrow at her. She blushed. It had hurt quite a bit actually. It had been all she could do to focus on the job interview. It was miracle that she had even gotten the job. When she was home finally, she had held it under cold water for an eternity, before wrapping it in a wet, soft cloth. It still stung. She didn't have any bandages, so she had to go without, which was rather painful.

"Wha-" Her throat was completely dry, and her voice sounded like a croak. She cleared her throat and tried again.

"What are you doing here?" She managed, trying to sound polite instead of accusing. He raised that eyebrow again.

"Well, I am the art teacher. Where are you going? Class is about to start."

Her brain seemed to have died.

"Bathroom," she finally managed.

"With your belongings?" He queried, curiously.

"I-I didn't want them to get stolen," she lied unconvincingly, perfectly aware of the fact that they were the only two people in the old building housing this course.

His eyes swept the empty classroom behind her before they affixed themselves to hers again.

"Alright," he said slowly, clearly not believing her, turning sideways, so she could squeeze past him through the door.

The door wasn't very wide, and she nearly brushed his chest, barely resisting the urge to breathe him in again. He inhaled deeply though, his chest expanding, leaving even less space between them. Her elbow brushed his hard chest. His eyes didn't leave hers, as he waited for her to get past him. She shuddered slightly, as she felt the intensity of his gaze. Then she was out, walking to the right, down the hall.

"Miss…" He said casually.

She turned back towards him. He lifted an elegant hand and pointed in the opposite direction.

"The bathroom is that way," He said, smiling a little.

Bella smiled sheepishly, suddenly feeling cornered.

Damn, no getting out.

The question was if she really wanted to. She walked past him in the other direction, now given no other choice but to find the damn bathroom. She felt his gaze on her back, as she walked, not daring to look back.

He was a strange man. He seemed unaware of the meaning of 'personal space' as he hadn't even stepped back to allow her access through the door. No, she just had to squeeze past him. She chided herself, aware that she was in reality the one who crashed into him. Repeatedly, in fact.

She searched the halls trying to locate the bathroom, but there were doors everywhere. Finally, she spotted a small sign above two doors. Ladies were right. She chuckled softly.

"Of course, they are. They are always right". She shook her head at her own amusement.

After finishing her business, she returned only somewhat reluctantly to the classroom, almost hoping he wasn't there. But he was.

He had prepared an easel with a medium sized canvas. He now stood at the shelves picking out brushes as she entered. She seemed to move in slow motion as her eyes fell on him, meeting his gaze, his hands counting out 5 brushes, his head turning slowly after her, as she moved past him.

She dropped her bag at the small desk she had previously occupied.

"So, Isabella," he said, smiling as he walked to the front desk, placing the brushes down, then turned towards her.

"You appear to be the only participant for this course. As you may know, it is a three-day course, with 8 hours each session. I am the teacher. My name is Marcus. I expect you here from 14-22 the next two days also. Today we will begin with colour theories, a little knowledge of paints, pigments, and how they are different. But first, I would like you to tell me a little about yourself."

She was taken aback by this, not knowing what to tell him. He waited patiently, watching her intently.

"Uh, well, I am from Forks, Washington, USA. I am 19 years old. Uh…" She faltered, not knowing what else to say.

"Have you ever painted before?" He asked her, encouraging her to continue.

"Not unless you count the doodles I did as a child," She said, feeling embarrassed.

"I do not," He answered simply. "So, no knowledge of painting in general? Why do you wish to take this course?"

"I wish to learn the basics; I want to study art later on. But I wish to prepare myself first." She said, tugging slightly at her sleeve, feeling self-conscious. He nodded solemnly.

"Smart move," he said.

"Alright, let us begin. I wish you to paint something for me." He said, business like, gesturing towards the prepared canvas.

"You will find all you need on the shelves. The canvas has already been primed. I have chosen your brushes. Here." He walked over to her, handing her the 5 brushes. She took them, feeling nervous.

"Why do I need to paint already?" she asked, stumbling over the words.

"I wish to see what you can do," he answered simply. "You have one hour,"

Gulping slightly, she walked over to the canvas. What should she paint? She thought a forest scenery might be a good start. She picked her colours from the shelves and began putting them on the palette.

Walking back to her canvas, she stood staring dumbly at it for minutes.

"Remember, these are acrylic paints. They dry fast."

She jolted slightly, not realising he was right behind her. She turned her head, as his breath tickled her ear. Their noses nearly collided. His unique scent bloomed around her again, and she had a hard time focusing. He had leaned forward chin almost touching her shoulder, his eyes lingered attentively on her; his lips parted a bit. He nodded towards the canvas, indicating for her to begin.

Swallowing a bit, she dipped her brush in the blue she had chosen, trying to ignore the man standing just behind her. He didn't move as she painted the sky. She soon grew frustrated, as the colour was way too dark, but it hadn't appeared so dark as she poured it on her palette. Frowning she halted, trying to see what was wrong.

"What you are experiencing here," He explained softly, "Is the fact that as acrylics dry, they will turn a little darker in value. Therefore, your sky is now a little too dark. This is because the emulsion in the paint is opaque when it is wet, but it grows clear as it dries." She shivered, as his mellifluous voice drippled down her back. She didn't answer, but continued, slowly trying out her options. When the hour was up, she had a muddy picture of her forest. Not what she had intended. Marcus hadn't moved, and she judged his near proximity the culprit of her failed painting.

Sure, Bells. Keep telling yourself that.

This would be a long day. Marcus didn't comment on her painting, but had her sit, and take notes, as he explained about colours. Three primary colours, three secondary colours. Red, yellow and blue. Green, purple, and orange. He showed her the colour circle, making her mix red and green to show how the colours mixed into a muddy brown.

"This is because they are complementary colours. As you see on this circle, red is opposite green, blue is opposite orange, and yellow is opposite purple. Mix the two colours, and we get mud. However, if you wish to darken, let us say, red, adding a small amount of green will do that. Understand?"

She nodded, taking notes feverishly.

"It is a good idea to have a lightness scale handy as you mix your colours. This is easily made by mixing black and white, making the grey values between." He showed her a scale, going from purest white through grey, growing darker in ten steps finally ending in deep black.

He was a good and patient teacher. She had never paid such rapt attention to any teacher's words. Well no teacher had been as handsome as he was, so that might have helped. Time passed quickly, and she suddenly realised their lessons were nearly up, and she spotted the darkness through the windows.

"We are out of time, Isabella. I hope you enjoyed this lesson and I will see you tomorrow."

Bella gathered her stuff and made her way towards the exit.

"Wait, shouldn't I help you clean up?" She asked, spinning on the spot, nearly falling on her ass, scrambling to get her balance back.

Marcus watched her intently.

"That would be helpful, thank you," he finally said.

She dropped her bag to the floor again and began gathering the brushes and the jug of water to carry them to the sink for cleaning. Of course, she stumbled on her way, and she would have spilled the murky paint-water all over the floor, had it not been for Marcus, as his hand caught it, before it could tip too much. Water still splashed a little, soaking both of their hands. It splashed to the floor. She straightened, realising his arm was around her waist to avoid her falling. They looked at each other, her breathing him in. He felt cold.

"Are you always this clumsy?" He asked, sounding almost amused.

His proximity made her dizzy, and she leaned a little into him, her eyes on his lips. She halted suddenly, catching herself. What was going on? She had almost kissed him. Woah! He leaned a little towards her, and her heart skipped a beat. His face inches from her, he spoke again.

"Well?" His voice was almost a purr.

Not able to find her voice, she merely nodded. He chuckled softly but didn't let her go.

"Funny," he crooned. "You, being this clumsy, but wanting to study a subject where clumsiness is not a good trait to have. Let us hope that it does not transfer too much into this class."

Suddenly the room went dark. She gasped, looking around, suddenly a little afraid.

"No worries, my dear. The lights shut off at 22:15. It is automated."

Oh.

She felt him hold her a little tighter against him, as if he were afraid the darkness made her even more prone to accidents. He wasn't wrong of course. Her eyes adjusted slowly to the shadows, and she could just make out his tall frame now.

"Can I let you go, or are you going to fall again?" He asked, amusement colouring his rich voice.

"I can stand, I think," she said, scrambling to find her feet.

He stepped back, letting go of her, and she shook herself a little, trying to see her path towards the sink. Stepping forward, she immediately slipped in the small puddle of water and nearly fell again. Once again, she was caught by the cold frame of Marcus, as he steadied her again.

"Goodness me, are you doing this on purpose?" He chuckled slightly, as his arms tightened slightly around her middle again. Her hands had dropped the jar of water and brushes and it had crashed to the floor, water splashing everywhere, brushes scattering in the water. Her hands now rested against his hard chest, gripping slightly in fear of slipping on the now wet floor.

"I swear I'm not," she said breathlessly. "I had forgotten about the water."

"Clearly," his soft chuckle rumbled slightly through his chest. She inhaled deeply, his tantalising scent filling her, making her blood race through her.

"Why do you smell so good?" She asked suddenly, the darkness seemed to muffle her voice slightly. Her face flushed deeply as she realised the words had slipped out before she could stop them.

"I was not aware that I smelled good." He answered softly, his breath tickling her face. She was so thankful they stood in darkness, as her face must be shining like a beacon now. He breathed in deeply, his chest swelling beneath her fingers.

He leaned in, his lips brushing hers slightly. She felt her heart stutter to a halt, as he moved against her. The kiss was brief, but intense. She couldn't see his face, but she felt sure his eyes were open. The dark, silent room seemed to be watching them, watching each other.

"Hmmm, you tempt me, young one," he said, his voice rich and deep. She shivered violently against him, his words setting her aflame.

"We should leave," He said calmly. She wanted him to kiss her again. It had been too brief, but she knew the stupidity of the notion.

"Alright," She said breathless, trying to pull away, but he held her in place a little longer before finally letting her go.

"Careful now," he said. She heeded his words and walked slowly towards the door, careful not to slip.

"I will see you tomorrow then, Isabella," She heard him say behind her.


So? What do you think? Let me know!

-Pancakes