CHAPTER TWENTY: Unrequited

I spent the morning of October 31st in a perpetual state of terror. An ominous fog rolled in the night before that turned Forks into the perfect setting for a Stephen King novel. A convenience store was robbed the night before, calling Charlie to the scene of the crime at two in the morning. At school, Tyler Crowley wrapped a bow around himself, tied an oversized gift tag to his neck, and told everyone his Halloween costume was "God's Gift to Women." But, as horrifying as these incidents were, nothing compared to my realization that I was hopelessly, idiotically, madly in love with a certain unattainable someone who was very much not interested in me and very much not my boyfriend.

All because of a stupid pumpkin.

I found the damn thing on the doorstep as I dashed out to my truck, exactly where I'd expected to see the pulverized remains of the pumpkin I'd bludgeoned into a mushy orange mess the night before. The replacement pumpkin was the same size and shape, and had I not already smashed pumpkin number one into the sidewalk, I would have never known the difference.

But I did, and I was certain Edward was the culprit who snuck up to my porch, cleaned up the corpse of the first pumpkin, and replaced it, all sometime between midnight and 7 AM. The question should have been why, but I already knew: He just got me. I'd mentioned in passing that I was used to losing Halloween pumpkins to neighborhood pranksters, a bitter memory from my somewhat broken childhood, and he'd remembered. He always listened so closely to everything I said, no matter how uninteresting or trivial.

It couldn't be love for him, of course, but he cared about me, albeit just as a friend. Sometimes I thought he might be lonely, what with his intimidating intelligence and beauty, both inside and out, so perhaps he needed me, too. Maybe I cheered him up with my endless string of mishaps; I could be unintentionally hilarious sometimes and perhaps this drew him to me, too. Plus, I didn't pursue him like all the other girls wanted to; I had a boyfriend, so he saw me as safe and was thus willing to open up and let me in, if only for a few short, perfect moments every once in awhile.

Miraculously, somewhere along the way we'd become friends, maybe even the kind that watched out for each other. The pumpkin incident showed that he protected me in a sweet, platonic way; for him, what we had could possibly be the purest of friendships.

How I desperately wished I could say the same, but I was sick of running, of denying the magnetic pull that tuned every sense in my body into him. I loved, love, and would always love Jake, but I felt something much different for Edward, something unfamiliar but that I was pretty certain was love, too. It was a love galaxies away from what Jake and I shared but it was nonetheless frighteningly powerful. Edward would never want to be mine, but a part of who I was now belonged to him.

Where this left Jake and me, I had no idea. I could never leave him, but I also couldn't go back to who I once was; something inside me had permanently changed.

I pulled my truck over halfway to school and threw up in someone's rosebushes. I could barely function, and I knew I couldn't see Edward today. One look at my face and he'd know I'd become just what he hated: a lovesick idiot incapable of being the type of girl he wanted. Still, as much as the thought disgusted me, I wanted him to want me, to see me as I saw him, beautiful and soulful, smart and kind.

Usually, I never laid eyes on him until lunch, but because today was the one day I wanted to avoid him like an incurable disease, I saw him almost as soon as my feet skidded onto the linoleum in the front entryway. My mind told me to sprint toward the nearest exit, but I could only stand still and watch the back of his head set against the backdrop of his locker. I wanted to run to him, wrap my arms around his neck, and do whatever I could to make him happy. He'd spent 2.99 and a gallon or so of gas to get me a new pumpkin and drop it off on my porch, and as much as I knew I had to resist, I was willing to repay him with the very best parts of myself, for as long as he was willing to have me, for a single hour or an entire lifetime.

He shut his locker door and turned around, his eyes pulling me in like a merciless riptide. Then, he flashed me a smile that ignited his entire face. His eyes sparkled at me and his cheeks lifted as his lips turned up into a grin, and we just stared at each other over a sea of people that thankfully kept us yards apart. Someone shoved past me in response to the five-minute warning bell that shrilled throughout the corridors, but I refused to budge.

Without telling it to, my hand waved to him and my face contorted into this foolhardy expression of hope, ecstasy, and gratitude.

He didn't wave back but instead began to make his way toward me.

Finally, just before it was too late, my stomach lurched, and my feet thrust me in the opposite direction.

What little dignity I had left kept me from ruining my fragile relationship with Jake and the precious but perilous friendship I'd forged with Edward. I was far from safe, but I would do whatever I could to maintain the status quo.

At lunch, this meant acting responsible and hiding in a bathroom stall until the hour passed. I was thirty minutes away from my goal when a pair of shiny red patent leather pumps appeared under the door.

"Bella?" The voice was gentle at first but then grew insistent. "Bella! It's Alice. I know you're in there. Are you sick?" She tapped relentlessly against the sheet of metal that separated us.

"Yeah, uh, no." I could have disappeared from my old lunch table for a month before anyone but Mike noticed, but somehow Alice, a girl who was little more than a stranger to me, set out on a search mission after thirty minutes. Apparently, Edward wasn't the only Cullen who mystified me beyond reason.

"Why aren't you eating with us?" She sounded crestfallen.

I'm hopelessly in love with your brother, and I don't trust myself not to hop onto his lap and kiss him like a nymphomaniac on death row.

I thought about lying to her, saying something about a stomach ache, but I'd done so much lying to myself lately that I couldn't muster up the energy. Also, though I didn't really know Alice, I really liked her and wanted her to like me. "I'm...not feeling well. I need to stay here for awhile."

It said something about my state of mind and the severity of my Edward problem that I'd rather he think I had some sort of potentially disgusting bathroom-related ailment than know that I'd fallen for him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She'd obviously gathered that my illness wasn't physical. Damn those Cullens and their freakish perceptiveness.

"No thanks."

"Oh…okay."

I was the one with my stomach twisted in knots and tears warping my vision, yet I felt bad for the wounded disappointment in her voice. "It's just--I had a crummy weekend. I guess I'm still recovering." There was no way I could recover from falling for Edward when I'd promised myself to Jacob, but I couldn't exactly share that with Alice.

I thought she'd tire of my "woe is me" pity party and make a fast exit, but to my extreme surprise, the rest of her body joined the red heels on the tile floor outside my stall. She produced several squares of paper towels to serve as a cushion and then settled against the wall.

"Let's talk about something else, then, to take your mind off whatever it is that's forced you to hole up in a public restroom."

"Uh, sure?"

It turned out that Alice loved questions, especially when she was the inquisitor. She asked me about my favorite movies, which articles of clothing I liked to wear, the names of my grandparents, places I'd visited on vacation. I'd start to answer, then she'd cut me off with a completely unrelated line of questioning. She reminded me a bit of a highly caffeinated version of her brother, always asking about me, never volunteering anything about herself.

The interrogation went on until she exclaimed that lunch was at an end. "That was fun, Bella. Don't you think?" She'd spent the past half hour parked on a bathroom floor gathering the most mundane details of my life, yet she was undeterred in her bubbly vivaciousness.

I still hadn't emerged from the stall, but I had to admit I'd calmed down considerably in the past half hour, although what Alice found "fun" about me was unclear. "Yeah, I guess I owe you. I'm not exactly the life of the party today."

I saw her lift herself from her makeshift blanket of paper towels. Leaning against the door, she asked, "So are you going to come out now or what?"

I could hear our classmates beginning to stream out of the cafeteria and into the hall. "I don't think I have a choice."

My paralyzing nerves returned tenfold when I realized I had to face him now; English was next, and I couldn't afford another detention for skipping class. Reluctantly, I shuffled out of my haven of tarnished tile and porcelain.

Alice met me with a gentle smile. "Whatever it is, Bella, you'll survive."

"Don't be so sure." I meant to grimace, but she was looking at me with such sympathy that sarcasm suddenly felt rude. She turned to walk away, but I stopped her. "Thanks, Alice, really."

She grinned and chirped, "Good luck, Bella."

She had no clue just how much I needed it.

Three ghastly minutes remained before English began, which was way too much time; I could easily betray my secret, shameful love of Edward in a single second, and I shuddered to think what damage I could do with almost two hundred of them. I remembered the cluttered bulletin board in the hallway outside Mr. Berty's classroom and planned to hover around it as long as possible.

And I would have, except Edward was pacing back and forth in front of it. As soon as I rounded the corner, he stopped mid-stride and spun to face me.

"Bell—"

"You're supposed to be at your desk," I blurted out, confused and accusing.

"Are you alright? You weren't in the cafeteria and—" His expression faltered as he noticed something on my face. It couldn't have been food, as I hadn't eaten in almost twenty-four hours, but I grew self-conscious anyway. Stepping closer, he slowly raised a hand, leaving it hovering near my forehead but then thought better of making contact and dropped it to his side. With simultaneous worry and intense anger, he asked, "Why are there bruises all over your face? What happened to you?"

With my cataclysmic realization that I was in love with the wrong person, I'd forgotten about Friday's thunderous tumble down the stairs. The bruises were barely visible, and until now, no one, not even Charlie, had noticed the pale purple hue speckled across my forehead. Sounding like a talentless actress in a Lifetime TV movie, I responded, "I fell down the stairs."

"And what? Landed on your face?" He had a roughness to him that reminded me of Charlie at his most furious, outwardly calm but on the brink of snapping just beneath the surface. He leaned in closer, my face just inches from his neck, causing my breath to sputter in small gasps. Thank God he was focused on my forehead rather than my eyes, as I couldn't take eye contact on top of inhaling the intoxicating aroma of his skin.

"Actually, yeah. Kind of." I gave him this awkward half smile and instantly regretted it.

His jaw locked as the pale skin across his forehead amassed into a series of wrinkles. "So let me get this straight: You have a history of seriously traumatic head injuries, you fall down a series of steps, and have your fall broken by your face." Edward's rage faltered as he pleaded, "Please tell me you went to the hospital."

I rolled my eyes, hoping the reaction would help him see how absurd he was acting instead of sending him over the edge. "The hospital? Pshh. Rookie mistake. I used an ice pack." I gestured to my head. "See? Still conscious three days later."

His eyes widened so far that I thought his eyebrows would disappear into his hairline. "Do you—" He lowered his voice as Angela passed us on her way into the classroom. "Do you have any concept of self-preservation? Are you aware of the consequences of repeated head traumas, especially for someone with your medical history, someone who spent weeks in a coma? About how scar tissue can build and—"

"No, Edward, I'm not that hip to the ins and outs of repeated head injuries; my after-school MD program is only in its first semester." He was being ridiculous; any uneasiness stemmed from my heart, not my head.

Mr. Berty appeared at the doorway between us. "Planning to join us today, children?"

In my confrontation with Edward, I hadn't even picked up on the fact class had begun.

Ignoring Mr. Berty's best attempt at a menacing glare, Edward bore his gaze upon me and nodded toward the parking lot. "Let's go, Bella."

I could hear my pulse hammering double time in my ears. "Go? Go where?"

Berty was saying something, but I refused to allow him to tear my attention away from Edward's insistent face.

"The hospital. You need a MRI. The more time that passes, the more irreversible the damage becomes."

Riding in the car on a pointless trip to the ER meant alone time with Edward. It was the worst possible course of action, but it still sounded like the best idea I'd ever heard.

Fortunately, fate by way of an irate Mr. Berty stepped in. "You kids better get your butts in your seats or it's another afternoon in detention for the both of you."

Edward stared him down, his face dripping with condescension. "She hit her head, she needs—"

"Nice try, Mr. Cullen. Miss Swan looks just fine to me, so this little play you're putting on is rather ineffective." He turned to me with a sneer. "If you're planning on fainting, Bella, you can save it for someone who hasn't been teaching for twenty-five years."

During Mr. Berty's self-important little speech, Edward took to ducking down and staring into my eyes, probably looking for signs of concussion-induced dementia. Regardless of his motives, I was overwhelmed by his sudden willingness to get so close to me. If any fainting went on, it certainly wouldn't be an act.

As I stared into the tawny, concerned eyes in front of me, I fought the urge to lean in and bring our faces together, an urge that told me I couldn't let myself go anywhere with him. Summoning strength I never knew I had, I said, "Sorry, Mr. Berty. I'm coming to class."

I refused to look at Edward as I marched across the classroom and took my seat, but I heard him follow closely behind. I stared purposefully at the chalkboard and sat up straight as a pin in my seat in a meager attempt to come across as the model student.

Less than a minute into my act, a square of folded paper hit my forearm and landed directly in front of me. In perfect, elegant script, it read, "You need to see a doctor as soon as possible. Please stop being stubborn."

"I'm fine,"I furiously scribbled back,"Please stop being insane."I creased the paper back into a little square and flicked my finger against it, sending it shooting past Edward, ricocheting off of the back of Ben Cheney's head, and eventually bouncing onto Angela's copy of Jane Eyre. She looked up, startled.

"SORRY," I mouthed when we made eye contact. She just grinned and tossed it back at me. I flung it at Edward, feeling angrier than before due to my own lack of coordination.

He had the nerve to look amused, but that didn't dissuade him from continuing his written lecture. Effortlessly, he shot the paper square into the exact center of my desk. "I will drag you to a hospital myself after school if you don't take my advice. Be safe, Bella. Don't be stupid."

I made a show of theatrically narrowing my eyes at him as I waited for Mr. Berty to turn his back. Once our teacher's attention diverted to the textbook, I leaned across the aisle and tossed the paper so it hit Edward square in the jaw before falling to his lap. He pursed his lips as he read my response. "I can't just run up hospital bills because you're a hypochondriac. My dad will completely flip out if he finds out I went to the doctor again.""

Out of nowhere, a smug grin came over him as he wrote. "It will be our secret. Trust me."

I'd had more than my share of hospital visits and I was already at my limit where Edward-related secrets were concerned, but I just shrugged at him. If I just bolted as soon as class ended, maybe he'd leave me alone.

I anxiously awaited the bell as I prepared to launch myself past my classmates and into the hallway before Edward could so much as blink his heavily-lashed eyelids. When the hands on the clock above Mr. Berty's head hit two o'clock, I shot out of my seat with impressive speed. Still, Edward was faster. He was standing in front of me, blocking my path before I could take two steps. I moved to his left, but he followed suit so I couldn't pass. When I shifted to the right, he was there again.

"This is pathetic. Let me by," I huffed at his chest, which loomed less than a foot away from my face.

"We're talking about your health, Bella. Stop acting like a child."

"Fine. When I get home tonight, I'll make an appointment with Dr. Gerandy," I lied. "Happy?"

"I would be if you weren't lying through your teeth," he smirked. "We can go after school; my father's working today and he can check you out on the sly, no payment required."

"I can't let him do that."

"He won't mind."

"Yes, but I mind. I don't like people doing me favors that I have no way of repaying." I nervously shifted my weight and studied the tile beneath my sneakers. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to be late to class."

He moved aside, but before I could disappear from earshot, he called, "I'll see you after school."

As much as I'd been dying for him to say those exact words to me, I couldn't allow myself any more time with him in his car, the smell of him drowning out my sanity. Besides, I loathed visits to the hospital, which without fail left me with a feeling of claustrophobic helplessness.

In a volume he couldn't decipher, I muttered, "Don't bet on it," I'd do my damnedest to be out in the parking lot and behind the wheel of my truck before the bell stopped ringing.

X X X

As soon as three o'clock hit, I reincarnated myself as the Flash, bolting through the hallway at unyielding speed, dodging dawdling underclassmen, and breaking apart two sophomores sucking face in my haste to reach the parking lot. I was the first of my classmates out the door…or so I thought.

I approached my parking space and there he was, grinning like the Cheshire cat, his long body leaning casually against my truck. "Going somewhere?" he asked with mock innocence.

"Home. Now move."

"Nice try, but you need to see a doctor." He dropped the arrogance and pleaded, "Please, Bella."

"Look, thanks for looking out for me or whatever, but I am totally fine. I have stuff to do, so move."

He didn't even stir, instead sizing me up with his eyes. Taking a deep breath and setting his jaw, he said, "This is for your own good."

Before I knew it, he'd approached where I stood, bent down, and slung me over his shoulder like I was Scarlett freaking O'Hara.

"You have got to be kidding me, Edward. Put me down. Now." I was doing everything I could to keep my voice even, but my preoccupation with being concurrently pissed off and elated by the contact our bodies made my goal impossible. Hours earlier I'd vowed to avoid him at all costs, and now his arms gripped around my legs and my face was brushing against the middle of his back. Usually, I was excellent at keeping promises, but today I'd become a blasphemous failure.

We reached his car, and he opened the passenger door one-handed. Setting me down in the seat, he did everything but shake his finger at me. "Sit still."

"I hate you," I barked at him, though despite his chauvinistic, control-freak behavior, the opposite couldn't be more true.

"You'll get over it." He was practically whistling as he slid into the driver's seat, downright cheerful over getting his way.

We drove to the hospital in silence. He fiddled with the radio while I sat next to him with my arms crossed and a pout clouding my face.

Though I'd do a belly flop onto a pitchfork before letting Edward see it, I was a mess. He was taking care of me, and I absolutely hated it. Granted, he was obviously prone to overreaction, but he was worried about me. The thought warmed my insides, and then I felt like garbage because Jake also did his best to watch out for me and I never gave him enough credit. In fact, I gave him so little credit that I was tossing his trust in me aside for somebody who would never love me back, who would never devote himself to me the way Jake was willing to.

Edward pulled into a parking space and stared at me expectantly. "Look, I know—"

"Let's get this over with." I flung open the Volvo's door and slammed it shut behind me.

Edward led me through the main entrance, wisely ignoring the jesters in the ER who'd pepper me with an endless sampling of their "Bella Equals Hilarious Walking Disaster" routine. Dr. Cullen's office was on the second floor, tucked away in a deserted corner. Edward barely tapped on the glass door before his father ushered us inside as if he'd been expecting us for hours.

After Edward explained the situation, Dr. Cullen turned to me and asked for my version of events. I reluctantly recounted my weekend fall, admitting how I'd been dizzy for a little while after my head had struck the banister and then bounced me to the ground.

Dr. Cullen gave the response I dreaded, that a MRI was the best route at this point because of latent symptoms I might not notice on my own. "But don't worry, Bella, we can do this quickly; nobody even has to know you're here." I knew he meant Charlie, not the hospital staff, and for that, I was grateful. The last thing I wanted was to worry him with yet another health scare; waking up from my coma to his devastated face in the hospital last January was still something I would never forget.

Somehow, Dr. Cullen managed to sneak me into the room with the stretcher and large, tubular machine undetected, operating the scanner by himself while Edward wrung his hands and stared at the ceiling with an unreadable expression.

When it was over, Dr. Cullen spoke to me about what he saw, but I tuned him out. "So what you're saying it that I'm fine?" I shot a pointed glare at Edward.

"Well, for now, yes, but another contusion could really—"

"I'll be more careful," I vowed, knowing caution wouldn't make a difference; my bad luck and lack of coordination doomed me to a lifetime of concussions, broken bones, and hideous bruises.

I thanked him profusely for his kindness, though I wanted to throttle Edward. How dare he force me to listen to dangers I couldn't avoid? If I fell, I fell. It wasn't like I was seeking out brain damage for a laugh or thrill-seeking out of boredom. Had I known of a way to stop the falls, I would take it. Unfortunately, I could never be Supergirl, invincible to even the deadliest of head injuries.

Edward drove me back to the parking lot to retrieve my truck, painfully reminding me of the last time when he'd dropped me off in the same spot, pumpkin in hand, a smile on my face. This time, I was too depressed to even lift my eyes to his to say good bye.

As I moved to lift the door handle, I defiantly said, "You know, I'm not going to thank you or apologize or anything."

"I'm not expecting you to," he responded softly.

"Good."

"Good," he echoed.

It was time for me to get out, but I couldn't bear to leave him. I wanted to be angry with him, but I also wanted him to understand where I was coming from. "It's not my fault. I can't help it. These things just happen—"

He silenced me, murmuring a repeated series of "shhs" but saying nothing.

Tired of not allowing myself to see him, I raised my head and took him in. I wanted to tell him a thousand things, a "thank you," an "I'm sorry," an "I love you," but all I could say was "good night."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Bella." His eyes were so sad. I wondered if he was unconsciously mirroring the emptiness that tore at my own expression. I was a terrible friend to him if I made him feel bad over doing the right thing, overriding my unwavering stubbornness to get me the help I needed.

I pushed myself out of his car before I could act on instinct and ruin everything. I fumbled for my keys, aware that he hadn't sped off yet. He waited out of kindness, to make sure my unreliable Chevy started, and I just couldn't let him go.

Running over to the driver's side window, I raised my finger to tap on the glass, but he was steps ahead of me, hitting the button so it lowered between us.

In a rush, I told him, "You were right, I was wrong. I should have gone in after it happened, but I don't like remembering that I might just be on borrowed time with this thing," I flung a hand to indicate my head, "And if you ever tell a single soul that I told you that, I will kill you."

He nodded. "I won't." It would have been better for us both if he'd stop looking at me like a drowning man eying a life preserver, but I was certain he was clueless as to what his expression was doing to me. "Just be careful. You're just too…reckless."

If only he knew how right he was. I thought of Jacob and what he meant to me, his loyalty and devotion, how he made me feel loved and safe. Then, I thought of Edward and how he turned my world upside down and made me love him despite being the very type of person I should avoid at all costs. Had Edward torn open his door, run to my side, slung me over his shoulder in the same way he'd done earlier, and told me to give up everything and belong to him, without question, I would have. I was reckless, and Edward was right: I had to be careful. I had to let him go, but I couldn't. I had to walk away somehow, for Jacob's sake and maybe even my own…but I knew that was easier said than done.

Chapter End Notes: The nymphomaniac/kissing line is from a favorite guilty pleasure movie of mine, Notting Hill.