EPOV
My house had been so quiet that I could hear the tip of my cigarette burning as I took a drag from it. It tasted stale on my tongue, and I cursed myself again for forgetting to put the carton in the freezer after I'd made Em buy them for me about a month back. It was around this time that Esme generally started to make dinner, while all of us kids scrambled around getting washed up and ready to head downstairs. Family dinner had become a sudden tradition for us, what with Carlisle being terminally ill and all. I tried to avoid cringing at that thought whenever it popped into my head. But it was inevitable, and it was happening, so I needed to get used to it.
But Esme wasn't here tonight. She'd taken Carlisle out to celebrate their anniversary early. Their real anniversary was really around three weeks later, but Esme was paranoid and took no chances. It made my father sad, but I knew that he did as he was told because he wanted to be considerate of Esme and her weakness. He would start chemo soon, and I knew that she was uneasy about it.
My stomach growled angrily, reminding me again of the stillness that rested beneath my feet.
Emmett and Rosalie had disappeared after school. He muttered something about taking some day trip to Seattle, and had called an hour after he'd left to beg me to lie for him and tell Esme that he was spending the night with Jasper. I didn't know how that plan would work, considering that Carlisle and Esme now knew he and Rose were official, and it was sort of unethical for parents to allow their son to sleep over at the home of the object of his affections. Besides, he obviously was planning to just book some random hotel room for the night and to try and shag it up with Rose. Which was disgusting. But I'd agreed anyway, figuring that Esme would be too caught up in her own worries to pay attention to details.
Alice was euphoric, and thankfully, out of my hair while in that state of mind. Jasper had come over earlier to get her. I didn't dare come downstairs to see them off; it was still sort of awkward for me. The Hales and the Cullens, intermixing like the fucking Brady Bunch. That just left…well…me. I was sort of used to being alone, but I felt emptiness in my stomach knowing that Carlisle wouldn't be climbing the stairs to my room after dinner tonight. The black leather couch that he usually perched on would remain unoccupied, and I had to deal with that.
The hours rolled by cruelly, reminding me with each tick of the clock that I was completely alone on the first Friday night of my junior year while my family enjoyed themselves without me. The same thought kept creeping into my head, but I swatted it away angrily as I thought of things to occupy my mind with. I tried multiple activities, like chain smoking and Internet researching and I even went as far as making a batch of cookies.
By ten, I decided to try forcing myself into unconsciousness, even though I had already worked myself up with all the cookie baking and shit. I was becoming a little domestic Martha fucking Stewart, and I needed something else to do desperately. The same idea repeated in my head over and over, and I knew the only way to avoid it was through sleep. I turned out my desk lamp, slipping beneath my sheets in the stark blackness of the room, curling up in a ball against my mattress. I lay there for what seemed like hours, tossing and turning, but sleep never came over me. It was the worst feeling in the world, wanting to sleep but being unable to. I snatched the alarm from the nightstand, glaring at the taunting red numbers on its face with over exaggerated frustration. 12:34, it read. Twelve-fucking-thirty-four. I had at least eight more hours before it was acceptable to be awake on a Saturday, and sleep was out of the fucking question. Because my mind was racing, and I couldn't turn it off for enough time to fucking fall asleep. I was going crazy. I was baking fucking cookies. I was thinking about Bella Swan.
I shot up from my bed.
BPOV
In that instant, I forgot entirely how to scream. I thought my vocal chord had run away from me altogether. My body shook violently as my eyes watched the dark figure at my window, unblinking. Even if I could scream, would Charlie be able to make it to my bedroom before the predator took me away? Before he grabbed me from my bed and made off with me through the window? Everything seemed to move very slowly. Maybe not slowly, necessarily, but rather my mind worked faster so I was able to absorb and think of many things at once.
I briefly thought of all the CSI marathons that Phil had always made Renee and I watch in Phoenix. So often, this was the case. A man would intrude in on an unsuspecting household, abducting the innocent teen girl without leaving a trace. They would find her wasted body weeks, even months later, abandoned and unclothed miles away from her home. I also noticed the enormous lump of fear that was formed in my throat, undeniably the cause of my whole screaming issue. I thought of all the different objects that I could use as weapons around my room, coming up dry with only a few exceptions. The desk light could suffice, maybe even the stapler if I could move fast enough. But chances weren't looking so good. And finally, I thought about the shadow in my window, struggling to remember everything about him in case I made it out alive, so I could describe him to the police. Well, my dad.
The killer had broad shoulders and matted hair, and his long fingers were grasped around my windowsill as he struggled to shift his body weight from the tree limb his feet rested on. The darkness swallowed his other dominant features, and I couldn't guess at his eye color or his height as my eyes raked over his shadow. My mouth was still open to make a scream that would never come out, and I snapped it closed in terror.
"Bella, damn it, could you at least give me a hand?" The voice of the killer was thick and raspy with strain, and my entire skeleton stiffened as he used my first name so casually. He knew me? He had obviously been stalking me. I needed to do something, but my body was frozen, my legs still tangled in my purple bed sheets.
"Bella," he grunted again, his left hand slipping from my window's edge. Maybe he would simply fall, and all I'd have to do was yell for Charlie and call the police. The phone was inches from where my fingers grasped my comforter, but I couldn't find the power to reach for it.
Suddenly, the intruder managed to pull his torso a majority of the way into my bedroom, rain pelting off his back and onto my rug. The shallow light of my lamp washed over his features, and my eyebrows screwed together in confusion.
The abductor was tall, around six feet and maybe even taller. He had dark hair that was sodden from the torrential downpour, and the most splendid pair of green eyes I'd ever seen. The predator, the serial murderist, was none other than Edward Cullen.
"EDWARD!" I screeched, anger mixing in with the adrenaline that was flowing fluidly through my veins. I jumped from the bed, my body tremulous with the fear that had so quickly turned to infuriation. "What the hell are you doing here?" He lifted his body fully through the window, collapsing on the ground and rising slowly with a slightly pained expression on his face. I forgot for a moment about my complete infatuation, my petrifying awkwardness, and above all, the fear that I usually felt in the presence of Edward. I also forgot that I was still wearing his t-shirt, embarrassingly enough. With this new surge of confidence and fury, I kicked him. Right in the shoulder, almost exactly where he'd bitten me a little over a day before.
"Ow!" he howled, gripping his shoulder in his hand as he crumpled next to the still-open window.
"Be quiet," I hissed, slamming the window closed. "You'll wake Charlie." He looked up at me with furrowed eyebrows, massaging his shoulder with his fingers.
"You didn't have to fucking kick me, Swan," he complained, raindrops falling from the tips of his hair down his pale cheeks. On any normal day, I would have apologized profusely, blushing an embarrassing scarlet and stammering out poorly articulated apologies. But tonight, I was livid, and scared, and I wanted to smack Edward Cullen across his beautiful face.
"Well you didn't have to fucking break into my house in the middle of the fucking night!" I hissed, failing to even characteristically stumble over my use of expletives. I sat on the edge of my bed, crossing my arms around my stomach tightly and clawing my fingernails into my sides. Edward was quiet for a few minutes, and I listened to my rapid breathing settle back into a normal pace.
"I'm sorry I scared you," he said, his eyes not leaving his dark tennis shoes. His shoulders were hunched pathetically, his clothes sopping wet and his teeth chattering a little. I rolled my eyes as I rose to grab my bath towel off of its hook before throwing it at him. He was too cute to shiver like that, home intruder or not.
"It might still be a little damp, I use it to dry my hair," I said, more softly now. He looked up at me as he stood, wiping his face and neck with the deep brown terrycloth.
"I really am sorry."
"I know," I sighed. "Why did you do it? I mean, why are you here?" The adrenaline was rubbing off, and the fear was slowly creeping back beneath the surface.
"Bored," he shrugged, laughing a bit. "Alice left with Jasper and Emmett snuck off somewhere. No doubt he's with Rosalie." He still looked cold as he stood there awkwardly against the wall. I tried not to think about how he'd chosen to come see me while his siblings were out with their respective significant others as I padded over to my dresser to try and unearth some dry clothes for Edward to wear.
"So what you're trying to say is…that you got bored at one in the morning? So bored that you felt the need to drive here in the pouring rain and to scale the house to break into my window?" The blush was without restraint now as it warmed my cheeks. Edward let out a throaty laugh as he scratched the back of his head, nodding.
"Yeah. Yeah, I guess that's it." I fought to break away from his gaze, pawing through my middle drawer as I beamed stupidly.
"Here," I tried to say with indifference as I threw him the two squares of fabric, despite the party that was taking place in the pit of my stomach. "Charlie's old work shirt and a pair of sweat pants that don't fit him anymore." After a moment of thought, I tossed him a pair of tube socks as well. He smirked, raising one eyebrow.
"No offense, Bella, but you're dad's a bit shorter than I am."
"Beggars can't be choosers," I attempted to say coolly. But instead, it was a big, squeaky mess that skipped across several octaves. "Besides, you're the one who thought it to be a good idea to break-and-enter in a hurricane. Kind of ironic, intruding in on a police officer's residence."
He smiled wryly, saluting me with the roll of socks. He turned to the door, his hand grazing the doorknob, before I stopped him.
"Charlie will hear!" I exclaimed, reaching out a hand to stop him. I gripped his elbow, and he tensed noticeably. "Sorry," I said softly as I released him. We obviously weren't making any progress.
"It's okay, Swan. You just freaked me out a little." His eyes were soft and swimming, like billowing grass. "Where should I change?"
I reviewed different location in my bedroom ideal for changing, but I usually just took my clothes off without hesitation in the middle of the room. But that was when I was alone, and I never had to worry about anyone else seeing me. The closet would be too small—it still had some of my moving boxes in it and piles of discarded clothes I'd tried on for school with Edward in mind. The only logical place was in the little alcove by my door.
"You could go back there," I suggested, gesturing towards the dark little nook. "I won't look, I promise." Again with the squeaking.
"I trust you," he chuckled, disappearing into the shadows. I diverted my eyes away from him, intentionally looking at the opposite wall to give him full privacy. It would have made more sense to completely turn my body away, but I knew he'd laugh at me.
"Ouch, shit," he muttered. I heard something drop to the floor—probably a book; there was a bookshelf back there. My eyes darted towards him to find the source of the clamor, instantly widening when I saw the beauty that was Edward's naked torso in the dim light. "Sorry," he apologized lamely as he knelt to retrieve the fallen object. His eyes flickered with amusement as he observed my facial expression. I wasn't sure what it must have looked like, but I struggled to compose myself as he cleaned up the mess.
"I-it's okay," I stammered, sucking my bottom lip into my mouth. He emerged from the alcove, still without a shirt on, and smiled crookedly. My heart faltered before returning back to a steady pace.
"So, what shenanigans do you have to entertain me with?" he asked as he slipped his arms into the flannel button down. I laughed as he struggled with the buttons, because his frustrated face was so cute and also because the sleeves were about four inches too short. He smirked at me and rolled them up defiantly.
"There's nothing really to do here," I admitted, still giggling. "I'm still not sure why you'd pick to come here, of all places." My statement was true, but at the same time, I wanted him to tell me that he came to see me because maybe, just maybe, Edward actually liked me. He scratched his hair, like he often did, shaking a bit of the wetness away from his like a dog.
"I don't know why I came," he said almost inaudibly. His voice sounded almost sad, and it wound my chest into a tight knot that made me cringe. For some reason, he looked completely and devastatingly vulnerable there in the gray sweat pants that were too short for him, and I said the first thing that slipped into my skull.
"I'm glad you did," I whispered, meeting the intensity of his eyes with a shiver. The corners of his slipped pulled up easily as he continued rolling his left sleeve.
"I am, too." My soul was suddenly humming with life as he looked at me with such…admiration. I didn't know why he gazed at me that way, but I never wanted him to stop. I almost had to pinch myself to come down from my high. It was irrational, and foolish, to be so absorbed by the boy that I barely knew. I hardly spoke to him unless I was around Alice, except for the conversation we'd had in Emmett's bedroom. It didn't make sense. But there he was, in all of his green-eyed glory, looking at me. Bella Swan. No one else.
"Your hair is a mess," I criticized in the attempt of breaking the intensity that had fallen over the room. Edward's eyes inspected the walls of my bedroom before settling back in on my face. I silently thanked Charlie for disposing of the My Little Pony coloring pages and Nsync posters that had littered my walls as bitter reminders of my childhood before I'd moved back in.
Edward hung my towel back on its hook before crossing the room to sit on my bed, a smirk still grazing his lips.
"Well then, fix it," he dared.
My eyes widened at his close proximity. But instead of being afraid of it, I craved it. I didn't know whether it was left over adrenaline or just desire that fueled me, but I leaned up on my knees facing him and began softly brushing his damp, bronze locks with my fingers. He glanced up at me skeptically as I parted the shiny mess on the side, matting it tenderly with my palms.
"A side part, Swan?" he mocked. "And you're not even cowering in fear yet. I'm impressed." I smacked the side of his head gently before continuing my work.
"I'm trying to get over that," I sighed, shoving the little piece of hair that kept finding its way back into his eyes away with my thumb.
"What, your constant terror? This little bubble of insecurity that seems to follow you around at all times?" His sarcasm should have irritated me, but it didn't. Because he was right. I leaned back on my heels, inspecting the part of his hair thoughtfully.
"Yeah, I guess. I don't know why I'm petrified all the time." I grimaced when he messed up my meticulous hairstyling with his fingers. He scooted around me rebelliously and leaned against my pillows.
"I honestly don't, either. You seriously have absolutely no reason to feel the need to shit your pants whenever Rose is around." His eyes were serious now, and I leaned back on my palms so I wouldn't fall over.
"Try the fact that she's ridiculously beautiful? If you haven't noticed, I am pretty much the spokes model for the plain." My voice was pitchy again under the weight of my self-conscious confession.
"Well, a spokes model would probably have to be better-spoken than you, Bell," he chuckled. "But I can't understand why you freeze up all the time. You're gorgeous." He bit his lip, darting his eyes to his lap, as if he were embarrassed that he'd said something like that to me.
"You don't have to lie to make me feel better," I murmured. I felt the heaviness behind my eyeballs that always came when I was about to cry, and I beat them back bitterly. He brought his knees in towards his chest, meeting my eyes again.
"I'm not trying to placate you, Bella. I mean it." His tone was solid, unwavering.
"Then why did you hesitate when you told me?" I argued. Someone just needed to cut my tongue out so I couldn't talk anymore. Edward took a deep breath, seeming to fight with himself on whether or not what he wanted to say was acceptable.
"Because I'm walking on a very thin line, Bella. I can't decide whether it would be best to like you or hate you. It's very confusing to me." I recoiled in shock at his words. He looked extremely conflicted, the set of his jaw tight and unmoving.
"Edward, I—,"
"I don't know whether I should stay away from you or protect you," he interrupted, clutching a wad of hair in his grip. "I'm an asshole, Bella. I pretty much suck. You don't want to be friends with someone like me." He took in a shaky breath, pinching the cotton of Charlie's sweatpants between his fingers. "You don't fucking know what my life is like. You don't know all the things that I've done, you don't want to be around me."
"I do, though. I want to get to know you," I said firmly. He was speaking to me as if I were a child, and it irked me. "I don't need you to protect me, Edward."
"I have to," he spat gruffly. "You're just so fucking delicate, Bella. You don't know how to speak up for yourself. You have a complete lack of proper fierceness. Think about it, if I never protected you, you would just be blood on the soles of Jessica Stanley's tennis shoes. Rose would have already wiped the floor with you."
"I don't need you, Edward Cullen," I promised, my chin quivering. I was furious, almost to the extent of shaking. I knew that I was weak. I knew that I would be just another head for Rosalie Hale to mount over her fireplace if it weren't for Edward. But his words stung me. They hurt like a sack of bricks. On top of my untainted fury, I felt unbearable chagrin, because it wasn't enough that I knew how much I needed him. But he knew as well, and that was what broke me. And he had almost been vain about it, which made it even worse.
Edward glared at me angrily then, and I wondered what had happened to the pleasant conversation we'd been having just moments before.
"Should I leave?" he whispered after countless, painful beats of silence. I considered it, making him leave and never come back. I considered pushing him out of the window that he had crawled through just an hour earlier. I considered crying and screaming all the expletives that I'd ever heard, and I considered hiding from him in my room for the rest of my life because Edward Cullen had found me out. He knew me, almost freakishly well, and I should have been terrified of him. But I just shook my head.
"Don't go," I whispered. He hesitated, struggling to meet my eyes, before placing a warm hand lightly on my knee.
"I'm sorry I'm such a dick, Bella. You don't deserve any of that." I looked at him with courage, the brightness of his eyes not affecting my coherency for once in our very short relationship.
"I want you around, Edward." My tone was strong as I blinked back the tears that had formed without my permission. "You're an asshole, there's no doubt about it. But I don't care. I don't want you to stay away from me because you think I'm too good for you, because that is completely untrue." He began to protest, but I continued, knowing that if I let him speak I wouldn't have a second chance to. "And I don't want you to stay close just because you think that I need your help. I don't want you to treat me like you do, like you don't care. Because it fucking kills me, Edward. Because I know that you're perfect, and I can't take it when you act like you hate me."
Then he stared at me for a ridiculously long time, his eyes penetrating into mine like he was looking at my brain. I froze, taking in rough, scraping breaths through my teeth as he analyzed my eyelashes. The breathing stopped altogether as he leaned in slowly, his cool breath hitting my face sharply as he gripped my knee more firmly now.
"I don't hate you, Bella. I can't hate you, no matter how hard I try." And the he kissed me. I don't know why, or how, because I was so paralyzed with anxiousness and fear that the time it took him to finally reach my lips was sort of a blackout. But I internally patted myself on the back when his soft lips met mine and I failed to either collapse or stop breathing altogether.
He moved his lips slowly, parting them slightly as I breathed heavily against him. His right hand eventually drifted to my hip, but his other never left my knee. We sat there is stillness, breathing in each other. Every few moments he pulled back and just stared at me. It was the weirdest thing, but it was Edward, so I didn't care. He seemed to like what he saw in my eyes, because he always closed the space between our lips shortly afterwards.
"And you look good in my shirt," he smiled as he pulled away gently. I opened my mouth to explain why I still hadn't changed out of it, but his lips silenced mine once more.
For the first time since I'd met him that Monday morning, I knew Edward.
I wanted the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach to disappear as Edward climb down from my window when the sun began peaking out from the earth, but I knew he'd have to go before Charlie was up.
