5
Ah, What The Hell. You'll Never See Me Again Anyway
I didn't get home until after four in the morning, and I let myself in through the back door and snuck up to my room. I didn't plan on going to school. What was the point? I was being sent somewhere far away for no reason. And I most likely wasn't ever going to be welcome home again. When I turned eighteen, I was going to be on my own.
I ignored my mom shouting up the stairs for me to go to school. I just laid in bed with my blanket pulled over my head until she gave up and left for work. When I was sure she was gone, I wrapped my blanket around my body and went into the front room and collapsed onto the couch with a pint of delicious double chocolate chunk ice cream, with absolutely no plans until the minute I heard the front door open. Then I'd sprint up to my room and not move for the rest of the night.
I was just falling asleep when the doorbell rang, and I dragged myself off the couch for the first time in a few hours. It took me a little too long to get to the door, and whoever was there leaned on the doorbell again and didn't let it go until I threw open the door.
"Ugh, why are you here?" I asked as soon as I realized it was Edward. He stared at me, his jaw dropped. His eyes were focused somewhere below my shoulders. After a couple of seconds, he met my eyes and smiled.
"I was worried about you," he replied and then scanned me from head to toe. "You look like crap," he added and I snorted.
"Aw, thanks. You're such a charmer." He laughed in response. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I was really busy," I lied, attempting to close the door. But Edward put his hand against the metal and pushed it open, stepping passed me.
"Oh yeah? Busy doing what?" he asked, looking around. He walked into my house, leaving me standing by the front door as he disappeared into the kitchen. When I followed him, he was staring at the floor with an amused expression. "Bella, hate to break it to you, but I think your cat is sick." I looked to where he was to see Mr. Puffer just lying down on his side, his head tucked under his paw.
"He's not sick. What makes you think he's sick?" I sat down on the floor and pulled my cat into my lap, grinning when he purred as I rubbed my hand along his back. When I looked back up at Edward, he was smiling, his eyes unreadable.
"He just blew up and collapsed. I thought he was sick," Edward replied and I laughed before I explained Mr. Puffer's weirdness. "You named your cat Mr. Puffer?" I shrugged and nodded. I'd only been ten when we got him, and my dad had let me name him myself. He was the only living thing I had to remind me of my father. After composing my expression, I met Edward's gaze with my own and glared at him.
"Okay, now. What are you doing here?" He sat down on the floor a few feet away, facing me, before he answered.
"I noticed you weren't at school today," he said. Duh, we were lab partners. This guy was clearly a freaking genius. "And I was worried about you. I came to see if you were okay." I sighed.
"Well, I'm not okay. I'm the farthest thing from okay. But there's nothing anyone can do about it. So can you go now?" I asked, choking back tears. Stupid Edward. I was doing fine ignoring the pain until he showed up and started pretending he cared.
"Why aren't you okay?" he asked gently. I looked at him and the genuine concern in his eyes had me jumping to my feet.
"I am. I was just being . . . overdramatic. I'm fine. Really. You should go before my mom gets home." He stood up slower than I did, his eyes never leaving mine. I suddenly felt pinned to the spot by his intense gaze.
"You know, Bella, I may have only known you for a few days, but I already know you better than you think. I can tell you're lying. You're not okay. Actually, I'd say you're moments away from being severely not okay. Now, I know you're not a huge fan of mine, but I can listen. So why don't you tell me what's wrong?" I stared at him for a couple of seconds before, keeping the blanket wrapped around me, I hurled myself at him. He caught me, holding me tightly as I buried my face in his chest and cried. His hands rubbed my back, and I kept mine hidden in the blanket to keep from touching him anywhere that would send me into the vision. Instead, I just pressed my forehead into his shirt and let him whisper meaningless words that he meant to soothe me. And it worked, just a little.
Once I calmed down and pulled away from him, I wiped my eyes. "I'm sorry," I mumbled. I couldn't look at him. Even though just yesterday I'd tried to use my tears to make him think I was pathetic, this was too much. Because I actually was pathetic.
"Don't apologize," he said. He gently grabbed my arm, the blanket between us, and pulled me into the front room, where he forced me to sit on the couch before he sat next to me. "I don't have any plans today. So talk." I scooted away from him and kicked my feet up on the couch between us so I was facing him. It seemed that being near him made my head go all fuzzy.
"Look, I, uh, would but my mom is coming home soon and-." He cut me off.
"As soon as you tell me what's wrong, I'll take off. Promise." I sighed and closed my eyes. I couldn't look at him, because that also made my brain go kaput. What the hell kind of power did this guy have over me?
"Why do you care?" I wondered out loud, not expecting an answer.
"Because, believe it or not, I care about you." When I asked him why on earth he'd care about me, he sighed impatiently. "Bella, I think you sell yourself short. I don't care what you've heard from those brain dead idiots at school, but you're pretty awesome. Now, please stop stalling and tell me what's wrong." I opened my eyes and looked at him. He had his head tilted to the side, his expression curious but his eyes filled with concern and something else I couldn't put a name to. And suddenly, I found myself telling him everything.
And when I say everything, I mean everything.
I told him the story from the beginning: how when I was little, I found out I had a 'gift'; how my father had supported me while my mother simply put up with me; how my father died in the line of duty when I was twelve; how my mom and I didn't get along; how I got the bruise on my cheek and how my knuckles got all torn up and disgusting; how my mother found someone to replace my father and how they were sending me away. But not exactly in that order. I told him about my visions last. Edward listened to my entire rant without comment, until the very end. "So, pretty much, I have this sucky power that whenever someone touches me, I see their death, and because of that –which I can't control, by the way- I am being sent to who the hell knows where for the rest of my already sucky life." I finished on a sob and bit my tongue to hold back the tears.
This was the moment of truth. Edward would either believe me or he wouldn't. Either way, it was too late to turn back now.
"So . . . the reason you ran from me in chemistry . . . and then again when I kissed you . . . is because you saw me die?" he asked slowly. I couldn't read his expression and I was scared he was about to jump up and call the police or something, or worse -laugh. Maybe I should have waited until the day before I was leaving to tell him. That way, if he told anyone, it wouldn't matter because I'd be long gone. Besides, if he did tell anyone, I would just say I didn't know what he was talking about. Who would believe him?
The temptation to tell him I was just messing with him and I was totally normal with no powers almost overwhelmed me, but I pressed my lips shut and just nodded instead.
"Damn. Was it natural or was I, like, murdered?" he asked. My jaw dropped and I stared at him. Did this mean he believed me, or was he just fucking around? If he had meant it to be a joke, it definitely wasn't funny. "What?" he asked. I raised my eyebrow at him and he sighed. "Yeah, okay, I'm trying to wrap my head around it. But I figure, why would you lie about something like that? And if you were just messing with me, wouldn't you come up with a more believable lie?" I cleared my throat and shook my head in awe. I hadn't realized that I expected him to run away screaming, but this reaction freaked me out more than it would have if he had. "So, how did I die?" he asked again.
"Oh, um, you were shot," I mumbled. My legs were falling asleep, and I really wished I could spread them out, but Edward was in the way. He ran his hand through his dark hair.
"Shot? By who?" I shrugged. His expression turned thoughtful for a minute. "So, were me and the shooter the only ones there?" I shook my head. "Who else?" he asked.
I looked at him and was getting ready to tell him about how I'd been in the vision, but his eyes were filled with that emotion that I hadn't been able to name earlier. And I suddenly knew what it was: he actually did care about me. More than that, he liked me. I thought that he'd just been messing with me because I was the odd girl at the school. But I was wrong. And it was not good at all.
I stood up and backed away from him. "Um, you should go." I turned and ran out of the room, towards the front door so I could lock it behind him. And I vowed to myself never to open the door for anyone ever again. Especially him. He followed me after a minute, but I could see the confusion in his eyes, along with the concern and something that almost looked like . . . pain. Oh God, I have to get him out of here, I yelled in my head. I held the door open wide for him, refusing to meet his eyes as he stepped in front of me.
"Bella, please, tell me what's wrong." His hand reached out for my face, but stopped halfway and dropped back to his side. And it was only when I felt disappointed that he hadn't touched me when I realized something even worse than him liking me: I liked him, too. Panic shot through me and I gulped loudly, struggling to breathe.
"Everything is wrong, Edward! Everything." Leaving the door open so he could leave, I turned and sprinted into my room, closing and locking my door behind me. I pressed my back against it and slid down like I had in the bathroom on Edward's first day, but this time, I didn't try to hold back the tears. I let them slide silently down my cheeks.
When I heard the creak of the stairs outside my bedroom, my chest tightened with too many different emotions. I was pissed at Edward for his inability to listen, and relieved that he hadn't left me to cry alone, and sad that someone as great as him had to like someone like me, and mad that I was the one stuck with this awful power, and heartbroken that my mom was sending me away, and happy that I'd at least been able to find someone who cared about me before I left. I choked on all the feelings inside of me.
"Bella, I don't know what just happened, but let me in," Edward said. He knocked gently on the door. "Bella, I know you're in there!" I didn't answer. "I'm not leaving until you let me in. And you know I can force this door open." I stood up and slowly opened the door without wiping the tears from my cheeks.
"Edward, I can't do this." He stepped into my room and sat on my bed, ignoring the mess all over my floor.
"Can't do what?" he asked, patting the spot next to him. I ignored him.
"I can't have a friend. I can't like you. I'm leaving in a week, Edward. I have some sort of horrible power that makes me see how people die. I'm a freak. I can't drag you down with me." He got up and came towards me, his lips pulling into a smile. Why couldn't I stop staring at those lips?
"You like me?" he asked and I shook my head, not as a denial but as a surrender. "Look, Bella," he said, stopping a couple of inches away from me. When he didn't continue his sentence, I looked up at him. Before I knew what was happening, his hands were on my face and his lips were closing over mine. And I was thrown into the vision again.
This time, it seemed to go by faster. But it still scared the hell out of me, and I didn't want to see it again. When it was over, I tried to yank my head away from Edward, but his hands trapped my face. I froze, waiting to get sucked in again. But it never came. Distracted by wondering why I wasn't in the vision again, I started kissing Edward back. His lips were soft and warm, and I opened my mouth to the kiss. I reached my arms up and tangled my fingers in his hair, pushing closer to him. His arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me tighter against his chest. When I felt his tongue slide past my lips and touch the tip of mine, I sighed and dragged my fingers around to trace the lines of his face.
A couple of minutes later, he cupped my cheek in his palm and kissed me softly once more before pulling back to look at me. I opened my eyes and stared back at him. "No one has ever kissed me like that," I whispered. He smiled and leaned down to skim his lips along my jaw.
"Oh yeah?" he asked. I nodded and, before he could stop me, stepped back so his hand was no longer touching me.
"Yeah. Please don't do it again."
Oh, Edward. What are we going to do with you?
If anyone who is reading this has also read Life On the Island, you'll notice that the pace in this story is much faster than that one. I'm trying something a little different with this one :) I really hope you like it.
Thanks for reading! If you did like it, leave me a quick review . . . please? :D
Do the cliche R&R and stuff! Thanks :D