Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Simply put: Edward can't stay away. A significant portion of his brain is demanding that he return home, but he can't help but stand beneath Bella's window and contemplate the sinful pleasure of seeing her asleep. His duplicitous thoughts are not unfamiliar; his mind has been warring with dual responses to this girl since he first saw her. Ultimately, the decisions have already been made. Even if his willpower was strong enough to resist her, which it is not, then he would be loath to give up a chance at the happiness that his family has found with their mates. So he scales the side of the house silently and peers in the window as if all the answers to life's mysteries lie behind that single pane of glass.
He and Carlisle have never found a reason for it, but something about the molecular structure of glass restricts their perfect multi-spectrum vision to a slight degree. This is the way Edward justifies the half-hour ordeal of opening her window. I must make sure she's alright, he thinks. The squeaky hinge protests at Edward's invasion, but he redoubles his efforts when he hears garbled words issued from her mouth. He knows that she hasn't awoken due to her unbroken breathing pattern and the peaceful stillness of dreams. The idea of hearing her talk in her sleep is tantalizing in the extreme; he's almost giddy with the possibilities.
When he enters the room, his eyes are drawn to the dark haired beauty sprawled underneath a bedspread. The room is pitch black, rendered in muted grays, blues and purples. In his overlaid infrared vision, Bella is incandescent. Heat and scent ripple and writhe off her slim form, a visual sign of her vitality. It takes every ounce of his willpower to refrain from climbing into the bed. After a few moments, his breathing accelerates to match hers and it seems with each inhalation, his affection for her grows. Coupled with that growth is fear for bringing her into the danger of his world. Selfishly, he will never give her up unless she banishes him.
The rest of the week passes in subdued fashion. Bella and Edward have little interaction on school grounds, and even less outside of school. Edward calls on her in class occasionally, but he's sure to catalogue the exact number and distribute his attention evenly among his students. He's nearly convinced himself to pay her more attention considering her overall intelligence and knowledge of the material, but something warns him against it. Alice recounts her friendly conversations with Bella to Edward, but nothing piques his interest aside from her planned visit on Saturday morning.
He climbs in her window every night, unbeknownst to Bella and his family and assumes that Alice is simply staying mum; he's thankful for her reticence considering he feels no remorse for his voyeuristic escapades and has no intention of stopping. She sleep-talks infrequently, and it is garbled nonsense to even Edward's awesome audition.
Saturday morning marks the passing of three long days. Edward has been miserably terse in his familial interactions and his apprehension has Jasper on edge; as the empath goes, so goes the family. It is with barely bridled anticipation that Edward waits upon Bella to arrive, the Cullen coven prohibited from disturbing. When he hears her car's tires crunch the gravel of the drive, he stretches his senses out. Over the din created by her truck, he can hear several things: the telltale keening of a popular rock group, Bella's fingers tapping out a syncopated rhythm on her steering wheel, and soft harmonic humming. That they share some musical interests is a great relief to Edward; he may be tolerant, but there is some drivel that he would never subject himself to.
When her car pulls up to the house, he's outside and down the porch stairs at a suspiciously quick pace. When he pulls her door open with an exultant grin, Bella can't remember any of her qualms in coming.
"Good morning. It's wonderful to see you." He winks.
"Oh... thanks. You, too. Hi... by the way." Bella's nerves make an appearance momentarily, but she calms them on the short trip to the front door. Edward opens it too and gestures for her to go inside. "Is your family here?"
"No. They won't bother us today. Although, I'm not sure how much longer I can hold them off."
"What do you mean?"
"They're quite anxious to meet you, Bella. I may have been talking to them about you." Edward's feigned sheepishness doesn't fool her for a moment. She has to resist the urge to roll her eyes at him, having an inkling that it will only encourage his endearing, devious behavior. The conversation lulls a little then, but Edward remembers his "battle plan," as the family referred to it, in sufficient time to avoid any awkwardness. "So, I didn't really make any definite plans today. I wanted to give you the option to express your preferences first... since I don't really know them, yet. I was wondering what you would do on a Saturday morning if you weren't here?"
"I'd go for a run. I do long runs on Saturday morning, usually."
"You're a runner? I didn't know you did any school sports."
"No, I don't run track or cross country. I just run for fun. I know it sounds weird..." Edward interrupts.
"It doesn't sound weird to me. Not at all. I run for enjoyment, as well. Always have," he adds softly. Looking at her, he's having a hard time remembering to blink.
"I started running on request from my physical therapist and doctor and it snowballed, I guess. After months of agony, one day I went out... and it just felt good, you know? Afterwards I was tired, but I got this perfect endorphin rush. I think I'm addicted."
"What did you have physical therapy for?" Concern has etched deep lines on his brow.
"Oh, sorry. Forks is such a small town that sometimes I forget that everyone doesn't know. I was involved in a car accident at the beginning of last year. Someone sped into the parking lot at the high school, slid on the ice and ran into me. I was such an idiot. I just stood there until it was too late to get out of the way completely. I didn't get crushed, but I broke my leg," she gestures mid-thigh on her right leg, "two ribs," also on her right side, "and I had a concussion."
Edward's worry increases exponentially with each new piece of information she divulges. By the time she finishes her narrative, he has her in his arms and pressed against him. "Are you alright?" he chokes out.
Bella can barely think of a response to his question with his arms pressed so tight around her, but she manages some sort of affirmative before deciding to bury herself. Just as she decides to press for irrevocable intimacy, Edward pulls back from the embrace. With a penetrating gaze, he reaches for her hand where it's grasping the back of a leather couch. Delicately, using both of his own, he pulls, pushes and pries her fingers into position between his. Then he leans on the back of the couch with her and says, "Sorry if I startled you. I care about you very much, Bella. Increasingly so with the time we spend together."
"But how? Why?" She's asking the same questions, but with a genuine sense of curiosity this time.
As if his answering smirk were not enough of an answer, he says, "I will show you, 'm cara. Now, would you like to go for a run?" As soon as he asks the question, Alice mentally assails him with information. It includes the location of weather appropriate running clothes in Bella's size, the cloud forecast for the next several hours and the appropriate line of statements and responses that will lead to Bella's acquiescence. At the very moment, Edward is immensely pleased with Alice, she drops another detail.
Three nights running, Alice and Jasper spent a small portion of their evenings building trails on the Cullen's property. In the end, they built three trails of increasing distance and difficulty that cross and join and fork, cleared of obstruction and hazard and complete with railed footbridges across the Sol-Duc river that winds through their property. In addition to the construction that she's done, Alice gives Edward another gift: visions of Bella running through these trails on multiple occasions. As the visions shift, depicting myriad weather, hair lengths, clothes, and states of exhaustion, there is one constant: the smile on her precious face.
By the time they reach the trailhead a few hundred yards behind the house, Edward knows one thing: Bella Swan is physically attracted to him. He'd had such inklings before, and it was implied given her continued presence around him, but he's grateful for some actual proof. In the short amount of time it took to walk from the backdoor to the treeline, she's not taken her eyes off him. He's looked, albeit surreptitiously, at her almost nonstop too but it appears she hasn't noticed. If this is her reaction, maybe I'll wear shorts and a tee-shirt every day, he thinks. Despite her mild form of undress – a form fitting long sleeved shirt and short shorts – he's careful where his thoughts and eyes linger considering the flimsy material that covers him.
"You ready?"
"As I'll ever be. Don't go too fast for me, okay. I'm pretty slow."
"You'll be setting the pace today. Something tells me that I may have a few steps on you, if for no other reason than I've been running a little longer." Edward can't help the wry smile that lifts his lips. Bella takes a deep breath, averts her eyes and takes off down the double-track trail. The first few minutes of the run Edward spends looking, listening and sensing. He can hear her strong heart pumping at steady but elevated rate, air expanding and deflating powerful lungs, and an occasional grunt of exertion at the crest of a rise. He's entranced by the color in her cheeks, the flex of lithe muscles and the sweat that beads, gathers and runs deliciously down to the ground. And her scent is maddening, driving him to absolute distraction and ruining his intentions to act human and engage her in light banter.
When she catches him staring, he makes a feeble attempt at conversation. "How are you doing?"
She laughs, raises an eyebrow and responds, "I'm sure you know better than I do! Quit staring, creep." Then she's giggling and gasping for breath as she pads down the trail. The ice breaks completely with Edward's answering, disarming laughter. The rest of their time running together is spent in an effortless give and take, where their words are gifts traded between hearts and minds. By the time they loop back to the house, they are floating on the possibilities and eventualities of their budding relationship.
But when they breach the treeline into the backyard, hand-in-hand, Bella unintentionally stirs things up, "Why are your hands always so cold?"
Edward contemplates his answer for a moment, considers lying, and then decides that manipulating her is no different than lying to himself. "I'd be more interested in your theories."
Bella laughs and says, "It wouldn't surprise me if you weren't human, but I guess it's just bad circulation."
"What makes you say that? That it wouldn't surprise you..."
"You're just... you. Ph.D. at 21, perfect looks," cue embarrassed blush, "suave, obviously athletic. You must be an alien robot or something."
Edward's expression has gone from searching to contrite quickly, and he's torn on how truthful he should be with her, but decides that the whole truth may be overwhelming and downright scary for Bella. "I'm glad you think I look perfect, 'm cara, but I am not. I can assure you, though, that I am not an alien robot. Anal probing really isn't my style." And they are both laughing again, Bella's imminent questions momentarily forgotten as he pulls her close.
The sweat and light rain has plastered both of their clothes to them, and Edward's willpower vanished with the appearance of her curves covered in wet cotton. Mimicking the position of their first intimate encounter, he winds one arm around her waist, pulls her off her feet and twines one hand in her hair. He presses her as tightly as he dares against his quivering stone musculature and asks softly, "May I?" Bella doesn't answer. Instead, she grabs two fistfuls of his hair and presses her lips fervently against his own.
They both gasp at the intensity of the feeling. With the scent of the other snaking through their senses, they deepen the kiss, lips between lips: synchronous ecstasy. And he holds her in his arms, kissing the hell out of her, bodies and hands moving insistently, until the sky opens up and pummels them with rain. Without asking permission he throws Bella onto his back and takes off at quick clip towards his house and thinks, I am finally coming home.
A/N: Stratan is my new beta, and you can thank him personally for the error free brilliance. Rock on, good people.