Chapter 2

Lying flat on my back in the snow, staring up at the crisp blue sky I hear a voice.

"You alright?"

Unable to answer, I roll over onto my side and gasp for breath. I should have known better than to walk so fast in this weather. I'm clumsy enough on dry ground. Stupid ice, I hate winter! On my hands and knees I choke out a cough and hear chuckling behind me. Is somebody laughing at me? Glancing back over my shoulder I see Edward, cigarette in hand, smiling from ear to ear.

"Are you okay?"

I am now. Wait! No, I'm not! Did he just see me fall on my ass? Oh God, this is horrible.

Climbing to my feet I brush the snow off, with my head down and eyes locked on the ground, and try to walk past him. This is so embarrassing.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks."

"You're in this class, aren't you? I seen you on Monday, two days ago." he says, walking beside me across the oval toward the art department.

No! I was hoping he wouldn't recognize me.

He's still laughing at me. What an asshole.

"Why are you laughing at me?" I demand, turning toward him furious.

The only time I've ever been able to speak with confidence is when I'm angry. Once I lose my tempter all of my insecurities go out the window and I feel like some sort of fire breathing dragon. This usually happens when I get flustered and my thoughts pile up on one another like a traffic jam in downtown Los Angeles during a heat wave. It doesn't help that I've barely slept since that class two evenings ago and I've got to figure out before tomorrow what I'm going to do for my documentary project in Journalism III.

"What kind of an asshole laughs at a girl who damn near broke her neck?" I ask, waiting impatiently for an answer.

His smile fades into a smirk as he cocks his head slightly to the side, reminding me of Jojo (my dog) who does the same thing whenever I react in a surprising way. The look always makes me melt with Jojo, but with him it's different. It's like he's patronizing me with it. Why do I feel like he's looking in my head, studying me like some sort of scientist's specimen?

"There she is," he says.

My confidence begins to dissipate, but I can't look away. His eyes are so magnetic.

"What?" I ask, still aggrevated but not as aggressive.

"I knew you had it in you. You remind me of me, only . . ."

He's glancing down at my body now.

". . . not." He finishes.

I turn and walk away, but he continues in step beside me.

"Sorry I laughed at you," he says while taking a drag off of his cigarette. "It just looked funny. Seeing people fall is always funny. Everybody's rushing through life trying so hard to remain in control and then BAM!"

I jump as his voice raises 20 levels like an explosion beside me and freezes me in place.

"Life reminds them that they're not in control. You see?" he says. "Now you are real. No thinking, no pretending, no insecurities. Just you and me, standing here in the snow."

Foolishly I give him a dirty look and start insulting him before I even know what's coming out of my mouth.

"You are the weirdest, most arrogant guy I've ever met. You look like a freak and act like a young Marlon Brando, only you're not as good looking as he was! Why would anybody dye their hair white and put those dumbass studs beside their mouth and through the bridge of their nose? Are you trying to be different? Unique? What's wrong, trying to hide the fact that deep down inside you're like everybody else and there's nothing special about you? That without your GIMMICK you're just a normal dork like me?"

I try to continue but he reaches out and softly brushes snow off of my cheek, catching me completely off guard. His hand is so warm and electric on my skin. I can smell his scent on his wrist and turn my head instinctively toward it.

"Try harder, Bella, I don't believe you."

Before I can react he turns and walks into the building, flicking his cigarette off to the right in the coolest most casual way, leaving me alone under the trees wondering how he knows my name.

After making my way into the building and situating myself at my stool I listen with the rest of the class to Ms. Bernanke.

"Today Edward is going to pose for us. What I would like for each of you to do is choose an area of his body that stands out most to you and really just focus on that area. Draw it in as much detail as possible. I'd like to see depth to the image, as well, not just a flat 1-Dimensional sketch. Use shading techniques to really make that area of the body pop. Because he's in excellent shape the muscles will be clearly defined and easily observed so I'd like you to include them as well. At the end of class leave your work on the table in the back of the room and we'll meet again on Friday. This is really just to see where each of you is as an artist since many of you aren't art majors. As you know you'll be graded on your progress over the course of this class, so give me the best that you have at this time. I promise you will get better if you're here to learn so don't worry if you're not Da Vinci."

While she speaks Edward stands off to her left, leaning against the wall with his robe on, listening to music in his earphones. He isn't wearing his skull cap and I can see that his hair is tied up in a braid behind his back and shaved everywhere but in the back where the braid is hanging. It makes me think of Jet Li in Fearless. I'm a Kung Fu nutt and have always wanted to have that hairstyle myself. Of course I'd never do it. Would look totally ridiculous on me, but it actually looks nice on him with his features. Weird with it being dyed white, but different. He's right, I don't think he's a freak . . . at least not in a bad way. Is there such a thing as a good freak? Why does he look sad? I wonder what he's listening to.

Reaching into my bag I take out my mp3 player. Still angry from earlier I'm not as nervous about drawing him nude as I was. I don't like the idea that he thinks he has control over me. Nobody, especially no man, has ever been able to control me the way he has. Skipping through my songs I find my Bob Dylan folder and play "Tangled Up In Blue". When I look up he's removing his robe and I find myself once again staring at him in awe.

Every muscle on his body from his shoulders to his calves looks as though it were chiseled on his body by Michelangelo himself and he moves like a wild lion, confident and sexy in a ferocious feline type way. His entire body is completely shaved, including his arm pits and nether regions. Speaking of nether regions . . . WOW! Surprisingly he's uncircumcised. I'd never expected that, just sort of assumed he would be circumcised like all of the videos and photos I've seen online. But, if there is a God out there beyond the sky it must be a woman and she must have really taken her time with this man. How is it possible for him to hang like this? In all the porno I've seen never has one been so beautiful. It looks so soft and the foreskin covers almost the entire head, leaving the very tip poking out like a scared turtle. Wonder if he's a snapper? Hehe I instantly imagine myself holding it in my hand and rubbing it gently on my cheek and lips, pulling the foreskin back and forth over the head and off of it until he's erect and then sucking on the moist uncovered cap. Oh God, I can't draw this . . . I'll never get anywhere. When I glance up at his eyes, he's staring right at me. Or through me? He still looks sad. Why?

Suddenly I forget the rest of him and just stare back into his eyes. This time, however, I feel as though I'm looking into him, almost as though he can't even see me. Instead of the cocky arrogant rocker I see a little boy, lonely and sad. Grabbing my pencils I begin sketching him as he sits there on that stool staring past me. First I draw his eyes. When I finish them I realize it's the best drawing I've ever done. Even the drawing of him is hypnotic. I begin furiously sketching out his nose, ears, lips, and the rest of his face. As I slip away into that place where I go when I become the act of drawing the world fades around me into a soft-focus void. It's just me, the music, and his eyes and I feel myself disappearing into them as I draw. I can feel him inside of my head, nuzzling my neck with his lips and whispering into my ear, "I want you." Soon, even the music fades and it's just me drifting in an infinite emerald sea, glittering under the lights.

When I finally come to Edward is gone and everybody is filing out of the class.

"What happened?" I mumble to myself, glancing down at my finished sketch.

Gathering up my things I head to the back of the class and put my drawing down after taking another long look at it. When I turn around Edward is coming out from behind the curtain, fully clothed and taking a cigarette out of his pack.

"Mind if I see it?" he asks.

"Um, yeah, sure. I mean, if you want to."

Turning around I grab it and look again, fidgeting with my hair and worrying that he'll know what I'm thinking by looking at it. I see Ms. Bernanke through her office window, on her computer.

When I hand it to him he's looking at me, only this time much more gently. He seems so vulnerable now, why? After staring at the drawing for several excruciating minutes of silence he finally speaks.

"Wow."

When he looks up his eyes are wet and he rubs them roughly and turns to walk away. Is he beginning to cry?

I glance down at the drawing and notice two wet spots on the paper.

"Are you busy?" he asks from the door.

Oh my God, is he going to ask me to go somewhere with him? I'm freakin out inside. Since I met this guy I've been on a constant roller coaster of emotions. I need time to clear my head and figure out what's going on. What do I say?

"I uh, I . . ."

"You like Chinese? There's a really good buffet a few miles from here. I can drive and then we can go hang out at my place and watch a movie, if you'd like." He says.

"Um, yeah, I like Chinese."

Crossing back toward me he takes my coat from my hands and holds it open for me. I slip into it quietly, looking at him when he's done, and he begins to zip up the front for me. Taking off his skull cap he pulls it over my hair.

"How did you know my name?" I ask.

"I asked B after the first class."

"Why?"

"Honestly?"

"Yeah, and why'd you smirk at me that first day?"

"You remind me of me when I was younger," he says. "And because I find you curious."

"Curious?"

He smiles again and looks away, then back at me, slightly shy and open.

"Yeah. Ready?"