I rummaged around the messy room, looking for the kit. As soon as I found it I was making my way back the the living room. My way back to the stranger who I had so instinctively invited into my house, the stranger whose name I didn't know. The stranger who saved me tonight. I found him standing awkwardly, examining a picture of my parents and I from when I was thirteen. Right before my parents had died. He saw me walk into the room and straightened up, looking at me sheepishly. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to pry" he said. I just smiled sadly. I didn't mind. It was the first time anyone had actually paid attention to my past. They normally tread carefully around that territory. He did know my parents were dead. "It's okay, I don't mind." He made his way to the couch where I was seated, looking through the box for some anti-bacterial ointment and some bandages and so gentlemanly asked me if he could sit down. I gestured for him to take a seat. I then took his bruised hand in mine and started dabbing his knuckles with the anti-bacterial cream, ignoring the way his hand felt in mine. So warm and so right with a hint of electricity flowing through it into mine. "What's your name?" he asked, breaking the calm silence. "Bella. Bella Swan" I answered. "What's yours?" "Edward Cullen, very nice to meet you Bella, although I am sorry about the conditions" he answered. He hissed a little as the burn from the ointment began to grow. "I'm sorry about the sting, Edward." I loved the way his name sounded when I said it. Like it was made for my mouth. We sat a little longer in companionable silence, me attending to his hand, while his eyes never left my face. Then the questions started, "What were you doing so late on the subway?" he asked. "I was making my way home. I had a long day at work and we were really busy. That's why I was so late." I answered. "What were you doing so late?" "I just got back from visiting a friend. I left pretty late." I just nodded my head in understanding. "There all done." I said and let him have his hand back. "Would you like something to maybe eat or drink?" I asked. "No thank you I'm fine." he replied. Then he spoke intensely. Like his life depended upon it. "I should be getting back. I know this may sound weird considering we only met a few hours ago under horrible circumstances, but it just doesn't feel right to leave you all alone, considering you told me you had no one to call, back at the hospital, so I was wondering if it would be okay for me to leave my number on your coffee table for you, if you'd like. You can call me if you need help." "Thank you" was all I said. He could see the emotion on my face and he nodded gravely. LIke he understood pain. Not my pain, but pain in general. I couldn't believe how considerate he was. He gave me a gentle kiss on the forehead after asking for permission with his eyes and then left me standing in my dimly-lit apartment. After that I decided I needed my rest. I was over the shock of what had happened. Or so I thought. I hadn't been hurt much apart from a few bruises and scratches. I fell asleep that night thanking my lucky stars for Edward Cullen.
The next day, I was back at work, back to meeting clients and manning the phones. Making appointments, presentations and doing more work. I didn't feel the same though. I felt like a part of me was missing. I just shook off the feeling as an after effect of what had happened. James asked me several times if I was okay, and each time I would lie or sidestep the question. I was worrying him. I knew that. I would have to tell him soon. Apart from being my boss he was like my brother/good friend. He cared. I knew if I told him he would freak and make me narrate the incident to him, ask me several questions about it, half being if I was okay. I couldn't deal with that right now. I knew he meant well, he always did, but I just needed to be left alone for a bit.
The weeks went by like this, James growing more worried about me every passing day. I knew it was time to come clean with him. He deserved to know. If I were in his place and he were in mine, I'd be shitting bricks to know. I'd probably have pounded it out of me by now, but James knew he needed to give me my space and eventually I'd come around to telling him, but that didn't stop him from getting anxious about me. I looked forward to my friends coming back into town. It was the only thing I had, to look forward to. After all I had no boyfriend and work took up most of my time. The rest of the time I spent either curled up on my living room couch reading or spending it with my friends. One thing I noticed I had been doing a lot lately. I had been staring at Edward Cullen's phone number a lot. Contemplating if I should call him or not. As a false alarm. I was fine. At-least physically. I craved his company though. I remembered the way his arms felt around me. Their safeness. They screamed "home" to me. The deepness of his eyes and how it startled me. His caring, gentle manner and his warm voice, how caring it was. I knew it was wrong. It was wrong of me to be thinking of somebody so much. Wrong. Unhealthy. But I reasoned with myself. Making excuses for the longing for him. I passed it off as gratitude towards the man who had so bravely beaten up two skin heads trying to rape a woman. What I couldn't explain was, why I kept wondering about what he was doing every minute. Who he was with. If he had a girlfriend. He probably did. Anybody would be stupid to not see how beautiful he was. He probably had throngs of perfect, well-bred, beautiful girls lining up for him. I would fall asleep each night with a sad, longing feeling for him. It was an ache. A physical and emotional ache to know that someone like that could never call me his own. Would never want me as his own. He was simply a polite man, obviously well-bred. Someone who would want nothing to do with a workaholic, average looking girl like me. Someone stupid enough to get into the saddest of situations. What pained me the most was the fact that I knew I could never deserve him.
