Organise
She took a shuddering breath and Edward glanced at her, wondering what she was thinking about. Unbeknownst to her, he'd been watching her out of the corner of his eye for 5 minutes now. The way her pen scratched across her page or how she'd huff or tuck a curl behind her ear, wishing he could do it for her. He wondered what she was frowning about. It wasn't the essay. Isabella Swan doesn't frown over essays. She frowns over things that genuinely worry her. What worried her? Could he take it away? He wished he could touch her, over the top of the table but there seemed to be an invisible pulsing barrier between him and her, something that stopped him from touching that skin he remembered from yesterday, a tendril of that hair. Just one thread.
The group of goofy fifth formers finally left and Edward saw his chance.
Bella almost screamed when she felt his hand on the top of her knee. She bit down on her tongue and gripped her pen so hard she was surprised it didn't shatter. He trailed his fingers delicately over the inside of her knee before circling upwards in casual swirls to where her kilt rested on her thigh. Liquid heat began to build in her veins and she expected her heart to suddenly burst out of her chest with the rate it was beating. She glanced at him covertly from under her lashes, but he appeared to be fascinated in the book he was studying, his hand starting to inch higher with each swirl of his fingers.
Out of the corner of his eye, Edward watched with delight as Bella's face flushed a delicate rose pink, her hand quivering as she wrote. A flash of white teeth as she bit down on her lip. Her thigh was hot underneath her tights and he fancied that he could feel blood rushing under his fingers. Isabella Swan, hot and flustered, was a sight to behold.
He gradually pushed the kilt material up higher, the skin getting hotter the higher he went. Bella squeaked when he brushed the line where her thigh joined her body, delicately tracing the trimming of lace on the knickers she'd put on that morning. She snatched at his hand, pushing it down again before hastily scribbling a note on a scrap piece of paper and passing it to him:
Not here.
He smirked and quickly wrote back:
Where?
The question took her by surprise and it was a while before she responded. They were still staring at their respective work, not daring to look at the other in case they gave themselves away.
Bella suddenly scrawled something before tossing it onto Edward's work. Without another word, she got up, gathered her books and walked briskly away, leaving Edward with her note. She congratulated herself on being so calm. Queen Elizabeth would be proud.
Quickly Edward unfolded it and read it underneath the table.
It held an address and a time. That Sunday, afternoon.
He smirked at the last words on the note paper.
Don't be late, Cullen.