Chapter 3

Impressions

Emmett delayed returning to his and Edward's apartment for as long as the darkness would allow. Right after leaving Bella, he had stumbled upon-literally- a drunk college student his bloodlust had roared back full-force. It had been a week since he'd last had any blood; as numb as he'd been, he hadn't noticed the passing time.

"Hello," he said, after the young man crashed into his chest

"H-Hey..." the kid answered, tilting his head up, up, blinking rapidly and trying to focus his bleary eyes, finding Emmett's face far above him. Intimidated by Emmett's size, he stumbled back a step. "Whoa, sorry, man..."

Emmett locked eye contact with him. Instantly his mind flooded with the sounds of the kid's thoughts.

-Crap, that guy's huge - Shouldn't have drank so much - What does he want?- What'd I do with my phone?-

"Stand still," Emmett commanded, and pushed the kid's head over to one side. "You won't feel a thing." Gently, he bit and drank, awash with relief as the blood rushed to his parched tissues. He pulled back before the kid could suffer any ill effects, sealing the wound with his saliva. The mark would be healed within minutes and aside from a slight headache (which the kid would probably attribute to all the beer he'd consumed) and being a little dehydrated, the kid would be fine.

"You won't remember this," Emmett told him.

The kid nodded serenely. Emmett sent him on his way, watching as the kid wove and bumbled his way toward the bus stop.

Emmett swayed a bit himself. The kid had dank a lot more than Emmett had seen in his memory. Feelin' no pain, he reached his apartment building about an hour before dawn. He gave the doorman a goofy grin and the doorman smile back, instantly recognizing the smile of the happily intoxicated. Emmett entered the elevator and punched at the panel with his index finger until he managed to hit the button for the penthouse floor. As soon as the doors opened, he heard something that made his pleasant buzz retreat and his heart sink.

Edward was playing the piano, something he hadn't done in a long time and Emmett feared to speculate as to the reason for his renewed inspiration. Smoke curled from the ashtray perched on the top. Edward stopped playing as Emmett came through the door, and retrieved the cigarette, one of those Russian black-papered brands he loved so much. "There you are."

"Here I am," Emmett agreed.

Edward sniffed. "You smell like a brewery and a Clorox factory. Not the best of combinations."

"I helped Bella clean her kitchen, and then had a bite on the way home. Only college kids get drink on a Wednesday night."

Edward gave him a speculative look. "Interesting girl, Bella."

Emmett scowled. He had the childish urge to shout, I saw her first!

Edward chuckled. "Don't look at me like that. As the saying goes, He who hesitates, masturbates."

"She's not your type."

Edward stabbed his cigarette out in the ashtray. "Emmett, everyone is my type." Emmett had to concede that it was the truth. Vampires were notoriously flexible in their sexuality, especially the older ones. After several centuries, boredom or perhaps curiosity would soften boundaries and preferences.

"Not Bella. She's a nice girl, not a casual fuck."

"Every girl's a casual fuck for the right man." Edward asserted and Emmett had to admit he'd never known Edward to fail when he was intent on seduction. He could only hope Edward would lose interest if Bella proved to be more effort than Edward cared to exert.

"Don't fret. With her OCD tendencies, I doubt I'll even get to first base."

"'First base'? What, are we in high school? And what do you man by that OCD crack?"

Edward lit another cigarette. "You didn't pick up on it? Refusing to touch other people, the gloves, the bleach?"

Emmett considered. "She's not taking medication for it."

Edward sighed. "No, she's not. God, she smells good. Hmm... that lush, curvy figure of hers. Reminds me of the good ole days when girls didn't starve themselves into stick figures."

"Don't hurt her, please," Emmett said softly. He walked over to the window stared out over the vista of city lights. The automatic shades would close soon, effectively sealing out any sunlight and protecting them during their most vulnerable hours. "She's a good person, Edward. Genuinely good. You don't see that very often."

Edward put out his cigarette, half-smoked. "You worry too much. Ah, yes... before I forget..." He stood, reached into his pocket and fished out the key to Emmett's Stingray. He walked over, grabbed Emmett's hand and slapped the key into it. Emmett looked away hastily, hiding from the knowledge in Edward's eyes. He didn't know what to say, how to explain.

"Try anything like that again and I'll kill you myself," Edward said succinctly. He closed Emmett's fingers around the key and dropped his hand. Emmett stared at the parquet floor. He struggled for something to say, a way to express how he'd felt over the last few month- no, the last few years- why he'd tried it and why he'd allowed Bella to save him but words failed. He simply turned and retreated, going into his bedroom and closing the door behind him. After a few moments, he heard Edward resume playing, a haunting melody he didn't recognize.

Bella stared into her closet helplessly. It was filled with the long, loose dresses she preferred, and none of them suggested themselves as being "date clothes."

Her first date. And she had absolutely no idea what to wear.

She wished she had a girlfriend who could assist her. Someone who could help her pick the exact right outfit, to help with her hair, to dispense advice. Someone to share the excitement. Bella wanted to giggle, but giggling alone seemed uncomfortably close to crazy.

Twenty-four and going out on her first date. How pathetic was that? Her circle of acquaintance was small and she knew few people of her own age. And those she had known had been cruel about what her father had referred to as "Bella's little quirks."

Tears stung her eyes. She missed her father so much. He was the only one who'd ever understood her and accepted her for the way she was. Her mother had been alarmed and had dragged Bella to dozens of therapists, each of whom had a new medication a new treatment which promised turn Bella into a normal person if she just tried hard enough.

"So she likes to clean things. What's the harm?" her father had said. He'd watched with growing concern as the medications alternately turned his daughter into a dead-eyed zombie and a hyperactive ball of nerves. "Damn medicines are worse than the condition they're supposed to fix."

It wasn't that Bella didn't want to be normal. It would have been wonderful to go to school with others her age, to have friends who could come over to the house, have sleep-overs, to dance and kiss boys, to go to the mall and eat at the food court. But she couldn't. Renee had known that something was amiss when Bella was a toddler who would extend her hands and repeat the word "Dirty!" until Renee consented to wash them in the sink. Bella had only made it to second grade before she couldn't take it any more. The other kids had discovered that they could make Bella break down into amusing tears by handling her things, and being hit with a spit wad would send her into hysterics. When Bella began to greet each school morning by sobbing and pretending to be sick, Renee had quit her job teaching high school science and taught Bella at home. Once she was in a quiet, stable environment she could control and keep clean, Bella had excelled academically. She'd graduated high school at fourteen, but, of course, going away to college was out of the question and she didn't see the point in getting a correspondence degree. Working with the public was never going to be an option.

She escaped into books, preferring the fictional world to the real one. When she wasn't reading, she wrote her own books in her head, stories in which she, the main character, could explore the world, fall in love, become a hero. All of the things she'd never be able to do in real life.

She'd spent this afternoon at the local no-kill animal shelter where she volunteered on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Working there had been at the suggestion of one of her therapists, an attempt to acclimatize her to the outside world. It had worked, to a certain extent. Bella didn't see animals as being dirty or germy, nothing that a bit of hand washing wouldn't solve anyway. The humans who worked there were a different story. She knew they all thought of her as a freak, but they knew by now not to enter or touch anything in the small room where Bella worked with the puppies, bathing them and socializing them. She taught them basic obedience to try to make them attractive to potential adopters. (Bella brought her own shampoo for them, an all-natural brand with no chemicals or perfumes.)

At four P.M., she had returned the last puppy to its kennel and walked back to her little house. Her father had bought the property before he died, intending to tear the house down and build something more "marketable" on the valuable lot. A drunk driver on a dark, rainy night had nixed those plans. Without her parents, Bella had felt like a pea rattling around in a drum in the huge estate where she'd grown up and when she'd seen this little house, she knew it would be perfect for her. It was easier to keep clean, certainly. The clunky antique furniture she'd kept over-crowded the rooms and probably looked very strange but she was content with it and besides, who did she have to impress? Edward and Emmett had been the only people who'd ever been inside.

Edward... thinking of him brought her back to her immediate dilemma: what to wear. Renee had always tried to coax her daughter into wearing cute, trendy clothing in bright colors, not understanding why Bella would want to fade into the background in her shapeless dresses. Now Bella wished she had saved some of those clothes. She glanced at her watch. There wasn't time to buy anything else and wash it before Edward would arrive.

Why had she said yes when he'd asked her out? The word had tumbled from her mouth before Bella could stop it. The only other boy to ever ask her out had been Jacob Black, her neighbor at the old house, and she was pretty sure he'd just been humoring his mother by asking. Edward was as handsome and charming as one of the heroes in her books. Why on earth he'd want to spend time with Bella was unknown, unfathomable. Maybe he had poor eyesight. Those mint green eyes of his were unusual. Perhaps their color indicated some weakness in his vision.

"Mrow." Her cat slipped into the room and rubbed against her ankles.

"Hello, Beautiful," she said, scooping him up for a hug. "Got any suggestions as to what I should wear tonight?"

"Mrow."

Bella set her jaw and grabbed a dress off its hanger. She wasn't Miss Fashionable, so why try to pretend? She deposited the cat on her bed and he curled up in a patch of warm late afternoon sunlight. She turned on the shower in the bathroom, carefully checking the curtain for any signs of mold before closing it around her. One of the first things she'd done with this house was install an instant hot water heater (so much more sanitary than a traditional hot water heater and not limited by capacity.) She showered carefully, using her favorite freesia soap, washing her hair twice. She checked her body for any sign of any unsanitary hair but she'd just waxed a few days prior and saw no signs of stubble. Her body was as smooth as a marble statue, and due to her aversion to sunlight, almost as pale.

When she finally felt clean of the day's accumulated dirt and germs, she stepped out onto a towel and wrapped her body in another. Before she dressed she stepped on the scale and frowned at the number that appeared. Along with never being Miss Fashionable, she'd never be Miss Skinny, either. She'd inherited her mother's short, rounded figure. Renee had tried every diet known to man and cheated on them all, losing and re-gaining the same twenty pounds throughout Bella's entire childhood. Bella had just accepted that nature intended her to be what her father had always called "pleasingly plump." She wasn't going to achieve the fashionable scrawniness unless she starved herself and Bella enjoyed the culinary arts too much for that. Still, she had to monitor her weight. With as little exercise as she got, it would be easy to tip over from "plump" to "fat" if she indulged too much.

She pulled the dress on and left her hair to dry naturally. She caught the sides up in a barrette at the back of her head. There wasn't much else she could do with it. She didn't own a curling iron, and creating a neat braid behind her head using only a mirror was a skill level her fumbling fingers had never achieved.

She had some time before Edward was scheduled to arrive. She curled up on her pillowy settee in the second bedroom that she'd transformed into a library. It was wonderfully comfortable, like snuggling into a cloud despite the plastic sheeting she'd layered over it to prevent flakes of skin from becoming embedded in the upholstery and hosting dust mites. Horrid things, dust mites.

When the doorbell rang, she was so engrossed in the story she was reading that it took a moment to snap back into reality and understand why someone would be at her door. She put the book aside and hurried down the hall. She pulled open the door and Edward stood there smiling, looking so gorgeous that she could do nothing but stare for a moment. He wore a long black wool overcoat with a charcoal suit beneath. In the crook of his arm lay a bouquet of lilies wrapped in tissue paper in graduating shades of pink.

"Hello," he said, his smile revealing a row of perfectly straight, white teeth.

Bella blinked.

"May I come in?" Edward asked.

"Oh!" Bella jumped a little. "Uhm, yeah... I... uh.. Yeah." She stepped back and Edward tossed her a grin as he passed. God, he smelled good. She took in a deep breath and tried to identify the scent but failed. Emmett had the same kind of delicious, intangible sent. It must be what their home smelled like, she decided, a scent which clung to their clothes. Whatever it was, she wished she could buy a bottle of it.

He waited until she had shut the door to present the bouquet of flowers. "These are for you."

They were stunning. Bella's throat tightened as she touched a silky petal. Do not cry. Do not cry. "Edward, I don't know what to say. Thank you. They're lovely." No one had ever given her flowers.

"You're welcome."

"Please, have a seat while I put these in water." Bella gestured to the Louis XVI oval-backed sofa and hurried into the kitchen. She heard the plastic crinkle as he sat. She reached the counter and remembered she didn't have a vase. She'd broken the Waterford crystal vase which had belonged to her mother and she'd never had a need for another. Inspiration struck and she pulled down a glass pitcher, filled it with water and deposited the flowers inside.

"People generally remove the paper before they put the flowers in water," Edward said.

Bella gave a little squeak and jumped. "Goodness, I didn't hear you come in!" Feeling a little stupid, she lifted the bouquet and pulled off the tissue paper and stuffed the soggy mess in her garbage can.

Edward was holding her cat, stroking his tattered ears. "There's a packet of flower food in there."

Bella plucked it out and looked at it dubiously. Some sort of chemical no doubt. She set it down beside the vase and turned to wash her hands. "I see you met Beautiful."

Edward chuckled. "Did you give him that name out of a sense of irony?"

Bella tried not to be offended. "He really is beautiful," she said carefully. "He's got a very warm and gentle heart, even if his exterior has a few scratches and dents." Beautiful had been one of the residents of the shelter, and it was pretty much acknowledged that he'd probably never find a home. He had the run of the place and his nature was so placid that Bella used to use him to get the puppies used to being around cats. She brought him home with her because they both needed someone to love.

She cleared her throat. "Uhm, did you want to eat before we went to the movie? I didn't cook anything yet because I wasn't sure."

Edward deposited Beautiful on the ground and brushed at the cat hair which had adhered to his sleeves. "Not necessary. Honestly, I'm not very hungry. I had a large lunch."

Bella was relieved. She liked cooking for her friends, but she wasn't sure if her ordinary, simple fare would appeal to this sophisticated man. Edward glanced at his watch. "We should probably be going."

They headed for the door and he suggested she should take a jacket as the weather was cool. She loved the way he spoke, as if he were an artifact of another era. She wondered if it was a trait of being British. She opened the hall closet and fished out her nicest jacket, a hip-length camel coat with a wide belt that had belonged to her mother.

"That looks nice on you," Edward commented, and Bella blushed.

The car waiting in her drive was unlike any she'd ever seen before. It had a strange two-toned hood with a vent shaped like a cartoon mouse-hole in the center where bumper should be and something like gill slits behind the doors. "Wow, what is this?"

"It's a Bugatti Veyron." Edward, ever the gentleman, opened the passenger door for her first.

"It's very nice," Bella complimented, fastening her seat belt. She felt a little sorry for him. He'd obviously wanted a sports car and had to settle for this strange foreign thing.

The interior was spacious, but strangely shaped. The console in the center was large and metallic, the gearshift large and chunky. Even the steering wheel seemed odd. It had a big logo that looked like a backwards "E" blended into a letter "B" but didn't look large enough to contain an airbag. Maybe they didn't come standard on foreign cars. At least the seats were comfortable.

Edward settled in the driver's seat and started the car, shooting out of her driveway like a bullet. The g-force flung Bella back into her seat. She hated riding in cars since her parents had died. Maybe if the accident had been their fault, it might have been different, but they had died because of another person's carelessness, something that they could not prevent, something that could happen at any time to anyone. She made herself take deep breaths and count to one hundred, a coping strategy suggested by one of her doctors, probably the only useful thing she'd gotten out of that year of therapy.

She glanced over at Edward. "You should fasten your seatbelt," she suggested.

She could tell he was considering arguing, but he snapped it in place with a little smile. "Better?"

She would be when they stopped. He drove like a madman. She turned her head toward the passenger window as if she were deeply interested in the dark, blurry scenery so that he could not see her face and shut her eyes. She didn't open them until she felt the car slow and stop. She opened her eyes and saw the neon marquee of the movie theater. It was the only one left in operation in Fort Washington; all of the others had dwindled and died.

"We're here," Edward said, unnecessarily. She unfastened her seatbelt and before she'd even pushed the buckle to the side, he was on her side of the car and opened her door. Holy smoke, that guy moves fast.

She stood and he offered his arm. She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He stood, arm extended, patiently waiting.

Bella took a deep breath. The moment seemed to stretch on forever. You can do this. Just take his arm. You're just touching his coat. His coat isn't dirty. Slowly, she extended her hand, reached under his elbow and placed it on his forearm. The smile he gave her made it worth the effort. They walked toward the theater door. When they reached it, he released her arm to open and hold the door for her.

Inside, Edward paid for their tickets and offered to fetch something for Bella from the snack counter. She declined, feeling a little nauseated at the thought of how many hands had reached in the bin to scoop out popcorn after handling money. They went down the hall to their assigned theater. They were early, so the house lights were still up and they had their choice of seating. "Where would you like to sit?" Edward asked.

"I don't know," Bella confessed. "It's my first time in a movie theater, so wherever you think is best."

"It's your first time at the movies?" Edward repeated, his tone surprised.

Bella felt her defenses set to Defcon 2. "Yeah, it is," she confirmed cooly.

Edward gently touched the sleeve of her coat. "I'm glad I could be with you for your first time."

Bella didn't know what to say to that. Her face felt hot and she couldn't meet his gaze. He directed them up toward some seats in the back. Bella climbed the stairs after him, noting the crumbs and bits of trash on the floor with despair. Edward chose a row and stopped at a seat in the middle. "This should be good." The seat was folded up. He pushed it down and sat, slouching comfortably. Bella slipped her hand up inside her sleeve to protect it, and used her arm to push the seat down. She turned and stooped a little but she couldn't bring herself to sit down. The fabric seat covers had to be filthy. She would be sitting in other people's skin flakes, food particles and God only knew what else. She thought of her hair touching the back of the seat and shuddered a little. Anxiety began to build. What would she do? Her breath began to come a little faster. Ifs he had a panic attack now, she'd curl up and die of embarrassment.

Edward stood and whipped off his coat. He laid it over the seat, covering it completely. "Better?" he asked gently.

Bella let out the breath she'd been holding. Yeah, the coat was better. She gingerly sat. There were armrests between the seats with cup holders in the end. It was like having a wall of germs on either side of her. Edward noticed her stiffness and guessed the reason. He flipped up the armrests without comment. So much better.

"I'm sorry," Bella said, her voice so soft she wasn't sure he'd be able to hear.

"Why are you sorry?"

"That I'm so...weird." Bella closed her eyes.

"Bella, if something bothered me, I'd tell you. I don't think you're weird."

Oh, boy. Back to Defcon 2. "Look, I'm used to it, okay? You don't have to lie to make me feel more comfortable. Everyone else thinks I'm a freak. Why should you be different?"

"I've never let 'what everyone else thinks' guide my opinions," Edward said. "I like you, Bella. I like spending time with you. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here."

She gave him a timid smile and reached over to pat his sleeve. It was getting a little easier.

More people began to file into the theater. While Edward was watching some new arrivals, Bella snagged some hand sanitizer from her purse and rubbed it on her hands. It soothed her. Her hands had felt like burning hot zones of bacteria. She didn't know where to put her purse (there was no way in heck she'd put it on that filthy floor) so she just kept it on her lap.

The seats filled and ads began to appear on the screen. People chatted quietly, made themselves comfortable, began enjoying their snacks. The house lights went down and with a blare of sound, the previews began. Edward chuckled when Bella jumped. "That's a characteristic of movie theaters everywhere. They always have the volume overly-high," he whispered into her ear. "You'll get used to it in a few minutes."

It was a long while before the actual movie began. Bella was surprised to see that actual commercials were mixed in with the previews. The movie began and she settled back into Edward's coat. It smelled delicious; it smelled like Edward. Every so often, she'd turn her head a bit to catch a whiff.

Edward spread out more comfortably during the movie, his hand resting beside her thigh. Just a bare inch away. She was careful not to move herself and bump it. She was hyper-aware of that hand. Her mind wandered a bit and she thought about what it would be like to be his girlfriend, what it would be like if he placed that hand on her thigh, tenderly, possessively, lovingly.

A love scene began between the main characters of the movie. It wasn't terribly graphic, but it was enough to make Bella grateful that the theater was dark and Edward wouldn't be able to see her blush. She glanced down at his hand again. Had it moved slightly? It seemed closer. Just a small bit away from touching her. What would happen if she moved closer? Would he-

What would he expect tonight? Would he let her out of his car or walk her to the door? When they reached it, would he expect her to invite him in? Surely he knew her well enough to guess that she wasn't the kind of girl to have sex on the first date, but what about a kiss? Did most modern girls kiss on the first date? A handshake seemed a little impersonal. What kind of kiss? A gentle peck or open-mouthed?

Her breath hitched. The anxiety began to build. She wasn't sure she could handle the handshake, let alone having his mouth touch shouldn't have accepted when he asked her out. She couldn't be normal for him. She couldn't-

"Bella?" Edward was speaking her name. She blinked in surprise. The movie was over and the house lights were up. People were stomping down the wide steps toward the door as the credits rolled. Edward held out a hand to help her to her feet. Bella pretend not to see it and gathered up his coat as she rose. She put it in his outstretched hand.

On the drive home, Edward chatted about the movie's plot, special effects and Edward Norton as an actor in general. Bella answered in distracted nods and monosyllables. She couldn't have told someone what they'd watched to save her life. They arrived far too soon at her house and Bella started to hyperventilate because she still didn't have a plan of what to do if he tried to touch her.

Edward exited the car and opened her door. Bella stood, stumbling a bit when she exited. Edward put his hands out to catch her if she fell but she righted herself almost instantly. She decided to make a run for it. She skidded to a halt a few feet from the door. He had beat her there. How, she did not know. Bella trembled, gasping for air. He gazed at her and his expression was slightly sad.

"Bella," Edward said softly. "Close your eyes."

"Wh- what?"

"Close your eyes," he repeated. "Do you trust me?"

She didn't. But shutting her eyes was the best form of hiding available to her at the moment. She squeezed them shut tightly, waiting for God-knows-what.

Something touched her hand. She grasped it instinctively. What the heck? She opened her eyes. Edward was standing next to his Bugatti, a small smile playing on his lips. She looked down at her hand. In her palm was a silver Hershey's Kiss.

He'd given her a Kiss. One that wouldn't distress her but showed his intent.

She looked up at him, exhilarated. He gave her a small wave, climbed into the car and drove off into the night.