It now strikes me that I have never really fangirled properly about how hot the guy was, is. I shall annoy you with some of it right this moment. Yes, this comes right after I had a narrow escape with my life and all that. Here we go: his name was Cullen… Edward Cullen. He had piercing gold-coloured eyes and a face of chiseled stone with confetti. His lips are seductively red… like blood (I am having a sorry go at foreshadowing here) and his cool breath oh so delectably sweet! Ah! Muscles of steel ripple underneath his obviously expensive shirt, I find this hot. He has ridiculous eye bags but I tell myself that he is the archetype of The Silent Hero – cool, aloof, powerful, a little emo and romantic. I remember reading a book called "Twilight". It's got lorry-loads of description pertaining to this subject matter.
Presently, Edward is looking at me in a concerned manner. The idiot actually believed that dumping me on the ground would make me dazed enough to forget his superhuman feat. It was sheer stupidity. At any rate, it wouldn't do to displease someone you're about to milk your money and bling-bling from. So I cleverly decided to play along with his silly games.
"I think you hit your head pretty hard."
Duh I didn't. You put me down so softly that I couldn't have complained.
"Ow," I said, with equal hypocrisy.
I tried to question him about his blatantly inhuman agility and strength, but he stared at me with those honey-coloured eyes of his and challenged me with an innocent smile. Instantly, I counterfeited a swoon and asked no more. With types like Edward, you gotta have patience. You got to be persistent, keep pestering them with questions and swoons alternately.
Yet I could not, must not appear like an absolute bimbo. Well, like, yeah. I'm so, totally bimbo. I apologise. Split personality, you see. I'm actually a closet bimb. So I don't whine too much in front of Edward. It's not in fashion now, anyway, for the heroine / protagonist / main character like me to weep too much. So I try my best not to seem frightened, to appear intelligent and so on. But of course the time-honoured chauvinist tradition is for the damsel to be in distress. Hey, Edward needs to prove his macho side sometimes. And so, two-dimensional creature that I am, I try to faint away once every now and then. I can't help being myself.
"Stay where you are."
Wow. Edward sounds so brusque… so manly! But I can't let his sense of self-worth get too big – too hard for me to handle. So it's time for some ego-management, I say.
"You were over there," I very conveniently, suddenly remembered.
"No, I wasn't."
"Yes, you were."
"No, I wasn't."
Oh, please. Any idiot can see through that. And exactly as I calculated, Edward began to plead. He pled with his eyes. Sheesh, that guy seems to think that eyes and breaths are enough to knock unsuspecting females (and males) head over heels. Well, I'm sincerely sorry to be breaking this illusion. I demanded that I was right. He turned his eyes up to full power.
"Please, Bella," he begged. Ooh, that was easy! Ego-bursting mission accomplished! Let's have some fun now. I insisted that he explain himself. Devastated, he agreed, albeit a little reluctantly. Hee hee. I pretended to be angry with his reluctance. And then the teachers were upon us.
I could see my father, annoyingly present, too. They were about to load me into the ambulance when he bulldozed his way through the crowd. I can't express my disgust for the man properly. Let's see, he was a walking sausage, a moving mountain. His neck was porcine, his swollen face pink and his snout flaring. Charlie never could walk properly. Oh no, with him, transporting yourself from one place to another was never simply walking. It was hoisting your bulk, swaggering, and then landing with a tremendous thump. It is perfectly understandable why my mother left him for a loser baseball player –the whiny voice, the phony Southern slang, the sheer inertia. Sometimes, it could even get difficult to breathe the same stale air as he did.
I tried to ignore Charlie and observe the rest of the Cullens who had gathered nearby. Angry or disapproving – none of them held a shred of concern for Edward. This was a good sign. He must be the heir to the Cullen fortune to be able to garner such a delectable amount of hate. True, they must wish him dead! I, therefore, have done myself no wrong by hooking him.
My ambulance got a police escort because of the veritable Chief Swan. I must admit that I rather enjoyed the ride – all that VIP-treatment! You know, it has always been my dream to be a pampered poodle. I remember that the first time someone asked me what my career would be when I grew up, I'd actually answered, "a partying heiress". At any rate, I noticed Edward grinning his head off in the front seat. I must stop him before his head really falls off. Hey, if it's going to fall off, it should only be after the two of us are married. So, for now I must play by the rules of the game. I must appear flustered, a trifle displeased.
I ended up in the emergency room, oh well. Did anyone tell you? Life is like a vacuum cleaner… it sucks.