Disclaimer: I own nothing
A/N: Thanks for your patience and support! I will write more, I just don't have time so . . .
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Her heart raced as she looked around the room.
Nothing.
She let out a breath, of relief? No, of disappointment. She had thought for sure he was there. Was she just imagining everything, wishing…
Slowly she turned, colliding with leather. She stumbled back, landing hard on the floor, dust rising around her.
She brushed the hair from her sweaty face, looking out. She worked her way up two sleek legs, a slim torso, to the very points of his scissored arms. He wore his same black beltish outfit, but something was new, she couldn't tell just then, but something . . .
She couldn't look at his face, not yet. He was breathing heavily as he turned to leave.
"Wait!" she cried. Her voice seemed dry amidst the still house.
He stopped, but didn't face her.
She hated how unemotional he was about everything. Even her.
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Her.
She's here, I saw her come home.
She was watching the house, so I should have been careful.
But I wasn't.
And now she's here, on the floor.
Maybe, she'll leave if I don't say anything
do anything . . .
want . . . anything . . .
Why does she have to be here?
Everything was going fine! I was fine, until she. . .
It's happening all over again. Why does my heart do this?
I just want to be with her, but . . .
She left me before, I must not be right for her.
Maybe if I don't move she'll leave . . .
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"E-edward? Please look at me," I wanted to see him so badly.
Why did I ever leave? He was so perfect . . .
He slouched a little, turning painfully slow. I wanted to scream at him to hurry up and turn, hurry up and look at me with his innocent eyes, to hold me . . .
And then it happened.
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In tenth grade Jordan Grey asked me to the Homecoming dance. I was so excited - my first real date! I spent and hour and a half making myself look perfect for him. I don't know what I expected to happen. I mean, I didn't want him to propose or anything. But I wanted one of those Roger Rabbit drop-jaw moments.
He picked me up at a half past seven and we were off to the dance. We spent the evening drinking punch and waiting awkwardly for a slow song. When the first one was played, he asked me to dance, in a shaky embarrassed-but-trying-to-be-cool way.
He led me ten feet onto the floor and wrapped one arm around my back, holding my other. I politely put a hand on his shoulder and my other hand in his. We danced mainly looking down. The song was "This Magic Moment," and it seemed to fit perfectly.
Then, during the last refrain, we both looked up. Our eyes met, and it was like a bolt of lightening had struck us. We couldn't move, or think, or do anything except stare deeply. It was the first time a boy had asked me out, and looked right at me – the most powerful and memorable moment I had had.
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This was nothing like that.
This was ten times better.
One hundred times.
One thousand times!
This was real, and emotional, and meant. I meant it when I looked at him, my heart had a deeper meaning than dancing with Jordan Grey.
I was meant to be there, and I needed him. And, without admitting it, he needed me too.
I started to cry, wiping my face with my dusty hands. I could hear the soft scraping of his bladed fingers fidgeting uncomfortably. Before I knew it I was up with my arms wrapped tightly around him. I relished the feeling. His heart beating steadily faster, how fitting his leather was on his muscular body, how he smelled like cedar and rain. Everything mixed together in a cloudy haze that just felt . . . right.
Eventually I settled down a bit, but he just stood there the whole time. Maybe he's mad at me. I shouldn't be here. God! How selfish am I? I just show up wanting to see him, after I left the last time, not even considering if he'd want to see me at all . . .
"Edward," I whispered into his chest. He stopped breathing for a moment.
I waited. I wanted him to talk, to prove he was there.
"Yes," was the timid reply that came from him. I squinted my eyes shut, letting his voice echo through me.
"I'm sorry."
His body went rigid, then shuddered, then collapsed into a unique hug only Edward was capable of, consuming me inside of his embrace.
I felt a drop of water hit my forehead, then trail down my cheek. Looking up I could see him silently crying, as if he didn't know why he was crying, but wanting to cry all the same. The pain he let out in each wrenching sob, broke my heart, and I cursed my self for ever hurting the last person who deserved to be hurt. He wasn't even human and he could still feel emotional pain.
I let him cry as long as he needed, holding him. Until he was ready to talk.
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A/N:THERE! Now get off myback! Geez. . . j/k hope you liked!