Not in my stratosphere

A/N for 2018-09-25: It's only Tuesday, and it feels like work has consumed me - not in a bad way, but in a don't-expect-anything-intelligent-after-4 PM kind of way. Fortunately, I wrote this on the weekend.

~ Erin

They were sitting in the corner of Fork's only cafe, "The Perker." It was small, but had artfully constructed niches that offered the illusion of privacy.

"Has school been OK, otherwise?" Edward asked, his eyebrows creasing together.

She wondered what his skin there would feel like. If it would be cold, too. Probably, she speculated.

"OK so far. People have been pretty kind."

He nodded. "And the Blacks?"

"They've been great," she smiled, a small and temporary upturn of her lips. "Checking on your charity case?"

"Charity case?" he asked, sitting back, hands flat on the tabletop. "Really?" He didn't smile.

"Well you've assured me I'm not a meal." She was still trying to puzzle just what she was to him.

His eyebrows rose higher. "You think you're a charity case?"

She lifted her shoulders in the tiniest shrug, staring at the pastry in front of her. She'd eaten very little of it so far.

"You are as far from a charity case to me as you can possibly imagine," he said softly.

When she flicked her gaze up again, she saw his face was utterly serious.

Now she regretted her flippancy. "I'm sorry, I'm being really rude." She let a deep breath out. "Today was...difficult. You've been nothing but kind to me, and I'm very grateful, but I don't want you to feel...obligated to help me. I'm OK. I'm actually going to see a counsellor today. I'll be fine—"

"I'm glad you're getting help," he interrupted, "but you're wrong about why I'm here. It has nothing to do with charity, or some imagined obligation."

She hid her frustration. He'd told her he wasn't used to being forthcoming. Clearly, he had no interest in enlightening her about his true reasons for being near her.

Teeth couched in her lower lip, she endured the anxiety and somersaulting nerves in her stomach. God, she was all over the place. Especially after today. She'd wanted to apologize to him, for the way she'd left things last time. Now she was tripping over her sorry's—there were so many of them.

"Actually, I asked to see you because I wanted to apologize for falling apart on you the other day."

Edward tilted his head at this, letting his eyebrows lift in surprise. "I thought you handled yourself incredibly well, all things considered."

She smiled nervously. "If you say so."

"I don't have much of a basis for comparison, but I can't imagine anyone handling what I told you any better."

She didn't remind him that she'd fainted. "Have you ever told anyone before?"

He shook his head. "You're the first."

This was another question that had rattled her awake at night. "Why me?"

His face smoothed out, like this was simple. "I wanted you to know. And I suspected you were close to figuring it out."

She nodded.

"Why did you want me to know?"

He didn't answer this right away, and she blurted out her next question.

"I thought maybe you were testing your willpower—being around me."

"Of course not." These words were vehement. "I'd never risk you that way. Ever."

"Then, why?"

His evasiveness returned. "Why do you think?"

It was her turn to snap up her eyebrows. It was the kind of technique she'd seen wielded by the most insecure of people. Those who feared discovery of their ignorance, and hid it in returned questions. "Why don't you want to tell me?"

He cocked an eyebrow in acknowledgement. "I've already told you, Bella." He leaned forward on the table, angling himself to bring his face closer to hers. "I want you to trust me."

The proximity of his face was mesmerizing, and she had to grit her teeth together to push out a nearly growled, "I do. Why?"

He made a low sort of chuckle and leaned back, grinning ruefully. "Don't you think you're worth spending time with?"

"Do you have an aversion to statements? Wait, no, let me demonstrate: you have an aversion to statements."

Now he chuckled openly. "I like you, Bella. Is that so hard to believe?"

He liked her. He liked her.

That just seemed impossible.

Her disbelief was as transparent as all the other feelings that walked her face.

His own expression was serious. "You don't see yourself clearly, Bella. Not at all."

She really wished the blush wasn't quite so vivid. "I see myself quite clearly, Edward. I'm just...I'm not blind. And I don't understand what a person in your...stratosphere is doing down on the earth, with a person like me."

He grinned, and then laughed softly, shaking his head. "I'd use the same analogy, except, I'd be the one on ground."

Bella's eyebrows swished up into her hairline at this clear disingenuousness. She didn't want to confront him on it though, so she took a bite of her pastry, and then sipped her drink.

Edward was watching her, eyes almost squinting, like he was trying to figure something out. "You remember what I told you about the end of that first night, when I took you?"

She nodded.

"I was fascinated by you, Bella. Not anything else."

She frowned. This didn't make sense.

"Why do you find that hard so to believe?"

"Because if it sounds too good to be true, it probably isn't."

"You think that me liking you is improbable?"

She whispered it out. "Yes."

"Well, I'd counter that you being rescued by a vampire is fairly improbable, and given that improbability, the odds of said vampire finding your company desirous are just as likely as not." He tilted his head to the side, his eyes trained on hers.

There was a wave of feeling—grief, and anguish, and longing that rose together and strangled her throat.

She shook her head, almost wishing their time was over, that she didn't have to face this pain. The notion of cancelling her appointment fluttered across her mind.

"I'm not sure what that no means," Edward said softly.

"I'm really messed up, Edward. That's what it means."

His hands came together on the table, like he was keeping them from something, and then abruptly took both of hers in his. She breathed in sharply at the contact, but not because she was afraid. His touch was just so electric.

"You feel that too," he said.

She was staring at their hands, breathing in, and then out. She allowed herself to nod.

"The other night," Edward started, "you said I was your white knight. I'm not, Bella. You know what I am now. I am as monstrous a creature as can be." She began to shake her head. "No," he said quickly. "I am. And I need you to understand something. I'll leave you be, after I've told you this, if you want me to."

He caught her eye and she nodded, wondering what he was talking about.

"I didn't come back for you because I wanted to save you, Bella. I came back because I fell in love with you."

Then he released her hands, settling his carefully back on the table, like one would put a weapon in plain sight, to ensure a truce.

So overwrought by the events of the last months, and weeks, and now this day, it was too much for Bella. Some sort of choked and angry sound escaped her throat, and she stood, knocking her chair back into the wall, and skirting the table, heading for the exit.

Edward was not far behind.

"Bella, please wait—"

"You said you'd go, Edward, if I wanted you to, so why don't you just go? You've had your fun, just like the other boys—"

He stopped her angry outburst by coming close, his breath stunning her with his soft "Please."

She stood, transfixed by him, so close, and yet so removed from the realms he inhabited.

"I am not ridiculing you Bella, or attempting to toy with you. I am completely earnest. I know you've been hurt—profoundly—and if you aren't ready, I understand. I will always be waiting though. Always."

She stood shaking, trembling. It was too much. Simply too much to believe.

"I thought...I thought the feeling might be mutual. If I've misread—"

"No," she forced out. "No, I'm...just…I—" there weren't words that adequately explained it. The last bit of control cracked, and there was no stopping the flood of tears that washed up and over her cheeks now. Her breath rattled in and out, and Edward came closer, one arm bracing her side, the other at her cheek, his face all creased with worry.

"How can I help you, Bella?" he asked.

"Thank you for just...being here."

They stood there for a few minutes, this awkward embrace slipping into a closer one.

When the tears had subsided, she mustered her courage, and asked him, "do you really feel that for me?"

His grin stretched wide and beautiful. It was like watching the sun come up, it was so dazzling. "You stole my heart that first night. And you're welcome to keep it."

Her own smile couldn't help but join his. "This feels very...surreal."

His fingers felt delicate at her face, and she lifted her own to join his there.

"I would say more miraculous," he murmured, his smile only a flicker, features all poised for something more serious.

They were very close now, and moving closer.

Then Edward's pocket began to vibrate, breaking the spell.

"Oh," Bella said, "do you need to—?"

"No," he smiled, but backing away slightly. "I know who it is."

"How?"

"Who else?" he smiled. "Alice, my sister." Sighing, he said, "I'm afraid I have no excuse not to introduce you now."

Bella bit her lip, thinking of what his family would think of her.

"No, no," he said, "I meant more to spare you Alice, rather than the other way around."

"OK."

"She's a...force, to be reckoned with."

"If you say so." Her words were mumbled. She wasn't so sure.

"You'll see." He was grinning again. Now he took her hand in his, and she sighed. "Would you like to come meet them? My family? For dinner tomorrow night?"

She swallowed. Dinner. With his family. She was so awe-struck she could barely think straight. Her next words reflected this. "Um, as long as I'm not the dinner? Sure."

Edward stared for a bit. "It isn't something to joke about, Bella." His rebuke was gentle, but real enough.

"OK. No blood jokes. So...wear a turtleneck?"

He chuckled now. "Wear whatever you want." Then he sighed. "But I think I might have kept you late today."

She glanced at her watch. "Oh, shoot. My appointment—"

"Is in five minutes. Yes. Perhaps I can drive?" he asked.

He had her at the hospital in three crisp, hair-raising minutes.

"Wait," she said, as she went to go to her appointment. "How are you going to get home. Your car—"

"Not necessary." He said, chuckling, like her concern was funny. "Trust me."

These words sat less easily with her. She trusted him, yes, but...always that but. With everyone. She made her mouth form the loop and glottal stop of an "OK." A tentative production.

Then he took her hand slowly and pressed it to his lips with a kiss that frosted her skin with the sensation of a flame. "I'll call you."

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.