Edward

The trip back to the US had been routine, uneventful. Not a bad thing considering my line of work. I had spent most of the flight daydreaming about Jackson; the way his cool hands felt running over my soft skin, the sexy way his arm muscles writhed as he held himself over me. His intense but soft kisses. And I didn't know if it was my imagination, but he always tasted sweet, as if the confections he worked on during the day had become part of his physical being.

I remembered the longing look in his eyes when he dropped me off at the airport. It was almost as if he had wanted to ask me to stay, but he knew better. It almost pained me to know that he didn't really mean that much to me. I mean, there was a sort of affection I suppose, but not much more. I truthfully wouldn't have been that sad if he got married or moved to a city I didn't travel to. It was more about the experience; the thrill to my senses, and the freedom. I liked having these moments in time, but I also liked being able to move on from them without being worried about emotions or defining relationships.

When I drove up to our cottage, I was exhausted beyond comprehension. I had no intention of unpacking my bag today, and since I had the next two days off, I could mess around with luggage and organization at another time.

Collapsing into bed right then was such a joyful experience, that I smiled to myself and wiggled gleefully underneath a crisp cotton sheet. It was still light outside, but that didn't matter to me. My job was so sporadic and the traveling and time changes were such a mind-fuck that daylight had become insignificant in terms of when I slept and when I got up.

The ceiling fan whirred above me with a gentle noise that was so familiar; I would have been less comfortable without it. As I laid there splayed out across the cotton, I thought about what I would do tomorrow after seeing my therapist, Dr. Randall, and supposed I could spend some time at the beach. Once my schedule had been mapped out, my thoughts turned again to Jackson. As I pictured his face vividly behind my closed eyes, I instinctively began to run my hands up and down my body. It was very rare that I should fall asleep before I pleasured myself to such memories; it was really a force of habit. But today I was drifting off against my will to feel good. I felt myself slipping, and I knew that I was close to sleep when my thoughts became jumbled and nonsensical; it was as if I were dreaming and seeing my surroundings at the same time. The thoughts became less and less meaningful; less and less discernable.

Soon I was walking through the forest; tall thick evergreens and dense foliage. The air was damp and cold.

This was home. This was Forks.

I began to breathe evenly and appreciate the sensation of being alone in a familiar and wonderful place. I felt myself moving swiftly through my surroundings, never stumbling, until I had arrived at a small clearing. There were ferns, and a large rock that was perfect for sitting. Flecks of Micah adorned the boulder in a random pattern. I wanted to go over and plop myself down Indian style on top of the rock, to soak up the silence and the peace of the woods.

Looking down, I realized that someone had been here recently; I could tell because the accumulation of pine needles and grass that naturally occurred on the forest floor had been disturbed. There were not footprints, but everything was sort of, scattered; like someone had been lying there, or rolling around.

Suddenly, it hit me.

I knew who had been there. This was the place where I had fallen, all alone after he left me. This is where I had been found lying on the forest floor, nearly hypothermic and suicidally depressed. Oh shit.

I saw no one. I felt nothing but emptiness. I wanted to leave so badly, but I felt stuck. When I exerted the effort to move my legs, I recognized that I was utterly stuck in that clearing.

My legs were made of cement, and the air in my lungs became sparse. My breathing changed; panic was setting in. That's when I heard the voice for the first time in so long. It was his voice.

"You aren't good for me Bella."

I wanted to cry, to ask him to leave me, but the rest of me was dead now. I was utterly immobile. I couldn't cry, scream, run or reach my arms out. The empty feeling began to evaporate; in its place rose an intense, consuming pain. A part of me knew that the emotion, the hurt, really existed.

"You just don't belong in my world."

Shut up! I thought.

I looked for him; scanned the woods desperately for a face, a shadow. There was nothing but that perfect, awful voice.

"I don't want you to come," The voice sneered.

Don't do this. Just leave me alone.

I screamed at him with my mind, but my lips were as immobile as the rest of my poor body.

The first time was enough, Edward. Why do you have to come back to tell me over and over that I was not enough.

That I don't belong with you.

That you don't want me.

Why didn't he want me?

I woke with a start, but didn't utter a noise. I was sweating badly; my sheets were so wet that I'd have to strip the bed.

"Jesus" I muttered.

It was dark now, but light from the hallway lit my room through a crack in the door. I rose cautiously, and ran my fingers through my snarled, damp hair. I immediately considered a trip to the couch; a glass of wine, and a few minutes of late night television, but my neurosis required me to remove the sheets first. Stumbling towards the doorway with the armful of damp white sheeting, I cursed Edward Cullen in my mind. I wondered why I was thinking of him again. How many months had it been since I dreamed of this man?

"Fuck Him."

Jill popped her head out from around the corner where the hallway met the open kitchen and living space.

"Did you say something?" she asked me with a quizzical look on her face?

I wasn't sure if she had heard me or not, so I decided to be honest, if not cryptic, for once.

"Just talking to myself. I had a dream about my ex."

She smiled, a sad and knowing smile.

"Asshole," she said, letting it drop. We laughed together, but it lacked authenticity on my end.

As I tossed the sheeting next to the door that led to the laundry closet, I looked over at Jill to make certain she wasn't still looking at me. My admission about the dream had made me instantaneously self-conscious. My roommate turned confidant knew almost everything about my past relationship with one Edward Cullen, and was aware of the pathetic demise and subsequent fallout of said relationship. Naturally, I had never told her about the part where Edward and his family were all animal-eating vampires that sparkled in direct sunlight; I didn't need her calling the psych ward at Mass General.

She had never met Edward, and since he had taken all of my pictures and mementos of him, I had never had anything to show her, to help her understand what it was that I had lost. Good friend that she was, she chose to simply understand that it still hurt me, and tried to make light by calling him foul names. I honestly appreciated her effort.

As it stood, my roomie was currently icing cupcakes, and seemed intent on her task. I was comforted knowing that she had probably already forgotten the hallway incident, and proceeded into the kitchen to locate a beverage. Since Jill was baking, I concluded that it couldn't be later than midnight. Surveying the room, I found the digital clock on the stove which confirmed for me that it was only 10:42 pm. It was still a decent hour in Forks, which meant I was free to make a call to a certain someone in that area. Thank fucking god.

After pouring myself a tall glass of Malbec, I grabbed my blackebby off the small glass table next to the front door. I crossed the living room cautiously, making certain that the drink I carried didn't spill on the camel colored area rug. No need to spend the evening working the carpets over with my steamer.

After positioning my glass down away from the edge of Jill's antique coffee table, I settled into our massive, overstuffed sofa. I positioned my body comfortably between several silk throw pillows and covered my lap with a pashmina throw that I had purchased for next to nothing in Bangalore not too long ago.

Once I was thoroughly entombed in colorful eastern fabrics, I reached out for my cell and began to scroll through the contacts, searching for the "J's". Just thinking about this call erased the pain that had been so clear and present while I dreamed about Edward Cullen. Here was a man every girl should be so lucky to have on her speed dial.

Jacob Black.