Her every move, every subtle move registered in my mind.

Then I spent a moment to break it down, analyse it and deconstruct it to find out the motivation behind it. From simple things like a blush of the cheeks or the way she glanced up at me, searching my eyes then looking away suddenly. It was so incredibly frustrating yet captivating at the same time. I had made a giant leap by asking her to sit with me today. And I felt like I had been run down by a train when she asked about my past.

Even if it was a simple question like where I used to live. I felt my muscles tense. I swallowed the lump in my dry throat, trying not to seem rude. I didn't want her to get the wrong impression. She wasn't prying, she was being polite if anything, making small talk.

To deflect more of her questions I brought up Mike Newton. Ugh. I thought I might puke at the thought of him.

I loathed him to the very core. I watched their exchange of words when they came into the cafeteria.

She seemed hesitant in telling him where she would be, but then she blatantly nodded in my direction—I quickly pretended I was looking somewhere else. I peeked from the corner of my eye. He sulked off in the other direction, feeling intense hatred toward me too. I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling.

Maybe the kid needed to be knocked of his pedestal.

He couldn't get his way all the time, and of course, even though Bella was the most beautiful looking thing in this school and Forks, if she was like the rest of the girls here—willing—he would get tired of her and search for another conquest.

Wait—did I just call Bella beautiful? I shook my head. Thin ice, my friend, thin ice. I gulped loudly when her chair scraped across the floor.

What was I nervous or something? I certainly wasn't dreading the meeting we arranged. It was the highlight of my day—hell, of my week. Maybe even month so far. I didn't know what was wrong with me, I had blurted out the invitation like it was the most natural thing in the world. It wasn't, not for me.

I was terrified, but excited too. I focussed my restlessness into my leg, letting it bounce up and down rapidly in anticipation. I was becoming a wreck. And all over a girl, whom probably didn't even like me that much. For reasons I was unsure of, I had approached her that morning when I saw Mike next to her. I asked her for the English homework, having already finished it, just to get her attention away from that tool. Maybe I could direct her somewhere else, like perhaps, not Mike Newton.

I smiled devilishly to myself. That lunch was the most mentally stimulating I had had in months. I found it so easy to talk to Bella.

She seemed to like talking to me too. That thought warmed me. I lost track of the day after lunch. My head was swimming with Bella.

Her eyes, her lips, the flutter of her eye lashes, how she would bite her lip. I don't even think she was as aware of herself as I was.

I couldn't understand it, the need emanating out of me. I needed human interaction—but not just with anyone. Anyone besides Bella would probably bore me to death, Bella was so much more than that, which is why I became so hesitant. She was more. I tried not to shake as I pondered this.

What I thought of Bella was purely curiosity, right? Yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night.

I sighed and strode into Spanish, mumbling a short yet polite apology to Ms. Goff for being late. "Sorry, miss. It won't happen again." I promised, although it was only for appearances. I sat in the room—I was there in body, but my mind drifted, drifted down the hall, to the room where Bella had Calculus. Suddenly, I couldn't wait to get to Art.

It was a Wednesday, so that meant I was deprived of English with Bella. That only left sixth period. I took a deep breath outside of the class room. I walked in and settled myself in the seat next to Bella. She looked up, shocked. I gave her a sheepish smile. Class went on like that for the rest of the hour.

Stealing glances at her, watching how her brow creased and she bit her lip as she worked over the paint encrusted canvas before her.

I couldn't help but watch as she got lost in herself. I didn't know what it was, the innocence? The purity? Or the complete look of relaxation, of peace that encompassed her when she painted. And boy was she a good painter. She caught me staring once and blushed a deep crimson. I cursed myself. My painting was coming together slowly.

Splashes of mahogany, cream and flecks of gold. I wasn't quite sure what I was painting, but it came from the soul. I let my hand drift over the surface, revealing whatever was in my head. I hardly had any control over it. This was a release for me. It was why I chose Art as an elective. It was a deep passion of mine.

And, apparently, Bella's, too. I almost groaned when I heard the bell. I deep sadness welled in my chest. I couldn't control it and I wanted to get rid of it.

For the first time in so long, I hadn't been in that pit of depression. I beat down the sad feelings and walked with Bella to the parking lot.

We hardly spoke to one another, yet somehow, talking would taint the moment. So I remained silent. I hadn't realised I had walked her all the way to her truck until she stopped and turned to me, her key in the door. "I'll see you tomorrow?" she asked hesitantly. I smiled. Her face beamed, lit up like a torch.

"Yeah." I nodded in agreement. Lunch tomorrow, with Bella. I watched her leave, waited till she was out of sight before I sauntered over to my Volvo. I could feel these unfamiliar pangs of emotion rise within me.

I got home in ten minutes. Carlisle wasn't home yet so I turned the T.V on. I had decided to bring my painting home today. It was due soon and I could get a lot of it done in the confines of my home, being that there was never anything to do. So I sat down and rummaged through the stash of paints I had collected over the years.

I sighed deeply and set up something to lean my canvas on. I felt like using some soft reds, some pinks. I let my brush flow, it curled into swirls, a soft point, brown circles—

Holy fuck.

I staggered back, almost falling off my chair. I stumbled over the couch and over to the other side of the living room. I stared back at the canvas. Big, brown eyes stared back at me.

Shit, shit! Double shit!

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, although I wish I did. *sigh*