Stephenie Meyer owns everything 'Twilight'.
…
"Unbelievable, unforgivable! Edward, reprehensible! Did you not listen to a word I said?" Esme continued. "What just happened?"
Edward lowers his eyes from her black gaze and tries to fold me into his body.
I am mortified; I look down at the ground and I think I see a fissure developing. Earth please swallow me up! I shout to the tarmac but no, it's just my imagination running away with itself.
"Keep your voice down," he hisses at her, looking to see how much of a crowd we have drawn.
Esme guides us over to a bike shelter and continues to talk but I'm too ashamed to listen to her, I catch odd words like "disappointing" and "betrayal" and I have never felt such shame in my life. She doesn't look at me once.
"This could ruin your career, Edward" Jasper adds running his hands through his hair. He turns to Esme, "I couldn't stop him, Esme."
She places a reassuring hand on his shoulder, Edward's eyes narrow.
"I would never tell anyone," I implore but an uncomfortable silence eclipses the group. We stand like that for a while. I'm clutching Edward's hand tightly, Esme stands between us and forces us apart.
"Go home," she looks above my head as she talks to me. Jasper drags Edward away and Esme follows them. Neither of us know what to say, we look at each other longingly until he pulls his arm free from Jasper and walks away.
…
It was Spring Break a few days later and I spend the week at home in Forks licking my wounds. When school starts again I am equally eager and terrified about being on the same campus as Edward (and Esme). Our first lecture of the day is on criticism and I decide to throw myself into study, spending the hour before the lecture in the library.
Five minutes before the lecture is about to start I walk over to the lecture block then, when I see her run up to Angela who is the one true friend I have made in my photography year group; she is funny, kind, and smart. I really looked up to her; she always seemed to have it so together but never made me feel inadequate. She sits outside with Lauren.
"Hi Bella, ready for today's lecture?" She asks breezily.
"I think so, I went through the background reading last night and again this morning," I need to make a good impression on the lecturer.
"What's the name of the lecture?" asks Lauren.
"Form and function in early criticism," Angela replies off the top of her head.
"Two hours of multi-syllable words and no use of a dictionary. Great." Lauren sniffed.
"It does sound a bit dull," I agree as we walk into the classroom. We are the first ones there and not being too keen on talking up in class discussions I hesitate over where is best to sit. Maybe near the front and look too keen and get ignored or near the back and hide, hoping I won't be singled out.
"Come on," says Angela, pulling me into a middle row.
As the class fills up I ask Angela who is taking the lecture, but just as she answers me Edward walks in carrying slides, books and some notes.
Fuuuccckkk!
My heart skips a beat and my blood drains towards south my ankles.
"Crikey Bella you alright? You look as if you're going to vomit."
I nod dumbfounded, not capable of tearing my eyes away from him as he walks up to the front of the class. I am sure he has grown a little bit more beautiful in the four days that have passed since the 'incident'.
Look at me! I mentally shouted. He must know I'm in this class. Look at me!
As if he hears me his eyes immediately snap to mine. I feel my mouth drop into a small 'o' as the blood races back up my legs and concentrates around my pussy. I feel the hairs on my arm stand up on end and my temperature instant rises by ten degrees.
But I can't read his eyes or his face, he just stares at me for what seems like a lifetime, but if it is with regret or longing I don't know. As the final student comes into the room and slams the door shut, he breaks the gaze with me and introduces himself to the class.
"Today we are going to discuss early criticism in the field of photography," he announces and starts his opening argument.
Two hours! I thought to myself, two hours of just staring at him, heaven! He seems so at ease, so confident as if our little tryst had never happened. He avoids looking at me I know and I bow my head in shame. He probably regrets it terribly. Goodness knows what he had to do to stay in Esme's good books.
He must really despise me. I feel color flood my cheeks until I realize Edward has stopped talking and Angela is poking me sharply in the ribs. I peek a look up at him and see that he is staring down at me. As soon as we make eye contact he comes out of his reverie and carries on talking. He asks Mike to switch off the lights and begins the slideshow.
Relieved I can finally look up, I watch the slides of various early photography and examples of pioneers' works. After a few minutes in, the door to the classroom clicks open and Esme walks in carrying a notebook.
Edward stops the slideshow and patiently waits for her to sit. Did he know she was going to be here? Again I can't tell if he seems surprised or not.
"Sorry. Ignore me," she smiles to the rest of the class, not meeting either mine nor Edward's gaze, "I'm just here to audit."
…And keep an eye on us, I thought. Damn, now I'm going to have to make doubly sure I don't make dreamy eyes at Edward. I don't want her to think we're still seeing each other and get him into more trouble. Although we never were actually seeing each other, I've felt more of him than I've actually seen. I sigh audibly and Angela kicks me as Edward clears his throat and carries on the slideshow. Oh dear, shut up, Bella!
After the slideshow is finished Mike snaps the lights back on and the critical debate begins. I honestly try to concentrate but when he says, "In photography standards of criteria inform our development of disciplines and practice," I zone out completely. He lost me at 'disciplines' and I let my mind wander and I start thinking about what I'd like to practice with him.
"Do you have something to add Miss Swan?" his memorable voice cuts through my daydreams. Angela is looking at me shocked as if I had just uttered a very rude word. Esme peers at me over the top of her glasses from the corner of the room.
I panic and try to remember what they were discussing but I can't, I can only think about those strong arms, the way they lifted me up so easily and - Jesus, Bella, not now!
"Weren't you listening?" he snaps.
Shit, he looks and sounds angry. I guess I'm not making him look too good. I try to wake my brain up and think of something intelligent to say. "What about the obligations of the practitioner?" I stumble just as Edward is about to move on.
"What 'obligations'?" he asks, almost intrigued.
I don't know! I'm making this up on the spot! "The, erm, obligations of the photographer towards the critical aspect of their work. Criticism tends to look back at work when hindsight is 20/20. What about before the work is finished when the artist or photographer is actually creating a piece, helping establish what the medium's function is?"
I take a deep breath, that kinda made sense right?
"It's an interesting idea but you're not really getting to grips with what I'm saying. I believe the medium has no responsibility to the artist just as the artist has no responsibility to the critic. Anyway-" he trails off and I see him open a book and scribble in it before asking a student another question.
I breathe a massive sigh of relief. I can't believe I just got away with that especially as what I was saying didn't make sense to even me. Phew! I smile triumphantly to myself.
"No need to look so smug with yourself, Miss Swan," Edward shoots at me, staring again.
Damn, Edward, give me a break! Please tell me the two hours are up now.
"That's all we have for today, thank you class," he announces and I visibly relax.
Everyone files out and I make sure I don't make eye contact with either Esme or Edward. I'm just about to leave the room when I heard his voice. "One moment, Miss Swan"
Both Esme's eyes and mine shoot up to his and she watches me watch him as I slink over to his table.
"Edward…" she cautions.
"Yes, Mr. Cullen?" I ask.
"Are you having trouble with this module?" his voice is cold and distant.
"No, I- I-" I falter, "I am just having trouble concentrating today."
"Are you sure you don't need help with postmodernist criticism?" He starts to gets his notes together as Esme folds her arms over her chest and leans in towards us.
What is he saying? He can't be alone with me, so how can he help me? Is he going to fail me for this class? I shrug, not knowing how to answer him.
"Well, maybe this will help." His voice lowers into a more gentle tone and he takes a book from his pile. He is careful to avoid any physical contact and touch me as he passes the book over. Esme releases her arms and packs her notes away.
"Thanks," I whisper, close to tears. I hug the book to my chest and look up at him, lost.
"I'm sorry," he mouths as he checks Esme is busy completing her audit.
I quickly read the book title 'Postmodernist Theory in Contemporary Art' and as my heart sinks, I lower my head from Esme's stern gaze and walk slowly from the room.
As I leave the room I hear Esme and Edward deep in hushed conversation. As I turn the corner and leave the hall I tentatively open the book and inside the front cover Edward has scrawled three words; "I miss you. x"
I stumbled home confused.
…
Two weeks later my class is in the auditorium waiting to watch Robert Frank's feature film 'Candy Mountain' when Edward is escorted into the room by Esme. "Edward is here to announce a good opportunity for all of you so please listen."
I sit up straight and snap to attention. I search for Edward's face amongst the crowd and see him staring back at me. He holds up his hand to curtail the noise of everyone chattering.
"I'm organizing a weekend trip to a small gallery downstate. It's a great co-op further down the coast and they will be workshops as well as a chance to talk to several artists. Anyone who wants to go please take a flyer and let me know. We'll be getting a coach there and staying on the gallery's homestead."
Edward starts to hand out flyers to the girls milling around him staring into his big emerald eyes.
"I'll take those, thanks Edward," Esme walks towards him and relives him of the flyers as he ambles closer to my side of the room.
Prematurely dismissed Edward nods at Esme then giving me one last quick glance, leaves.
I wait for the chatter to die down and discretely take a flyer. When I get home I type in the gallery's website and have a look. It looks like the gallery specializes in contemporary American as well as mid nineteenth century European photographers; an interesting mix. There are lots of workshops and adult education classes; in fact it looks just the place I'd love to work at. I carry on clicking through the archives at the past exhibitions when my hand stops and I see Edward and my hearts stops.
It obviously was taken at an exhibition opening night, nearly everyone has a glass of wine in their hands. Edward is in deep conversation with a blonde who has her back to the camera, his head is bent as he listens intently to what she is saying as she points a hand at a feature of a piece of work. His eyes are gazing down into her, a small frown on his forehead as he concentrates on what she is saying. He is dressed casually in chinos and a v-neck jumper, one hand in his pocket the other on his chin. I feel aroused just looking at him and try to mentally block the woman out of the frame and imagine it is me, telling him something insightful and profound. Stupid blonde, I mutter to myself.
…
We arrive at the gallery just after noon and are shown to our accommodation quarters on the property to get settled before being led back to the gallery. It is a beautiful place, tastefully renovated from an art deco cinema to a two-storey gallery with a shop and bar. We all pile in the foyer and at the front Edward is greeted straightaway by a knock out blonde.
"Edward!" She squeals as he lifts her up in a hug and swings her around.
I think I recognize the blonde from the website, I also think I am going to be sick. I start walking backwards to the front of the gallery then turn and run past Angela and her friend Ben.
"Bella?" Angela asks, her voice full of concern.
"Travel sick," I manage to blurt out before I get to the safety of the door and push it violently open so I can take the salty coastal air deep into my lungs.
So this is why we're really here, so he can see her, and there I was, naive young Bella, thinking I might finally get to spend some alone time with him after all these weeks. And really he came here to see that beautiful woman. Idiot. I feel tears start to prick my eyes and I open my eyes wide and face the coming breeze hoping to dry them out before I start bawling and humiliate myself further.
…
Early the next morning I head down to the gallery as soon as it opens, hoping to get a sneak preview of the current work on display, before I have to fight with all the other students to look around. I walk to the bar and order an early morning smoothie.
"Banana and strawberries, please," I ask the Barista serving, looking through my purse for change.
"Sure thing," she says and gets to work. I look up and notice it is the same blonde that Edward was so happy to see yesterday and I suddenly feel my appetite dissipate.
"You're in Edward's class?" she asks as she hands me the glass and takes my money. I nod sucking down on the straw not wanting to have a conversation about him.
"He comes down a several times a year to stay with me," she pauses letting the last sentence hang in the air heavy with meaning. "But I haven't seen him for a while."
Please spare me the details, I pray as I nod and stare at my glass.
"He's great isn't he?" she continues, nodding past the foyer and to the smaller gallery where I see a flash of copper hair dart past the half-opened door. Without hesitation I abandon my drink and walk over to the gallery door and peek around the door labeled "Children's Introduction to Photography".
Inside Edward is sat on the floor talking to a handful of kids about art, in his hands is a digital camera and he passes it around encouraging the children to photograph things from their point of view. The camera is wirelessly linked to a projector screen behind Edward and when each child's photo appears he commends the child and discusses the composition with the group who listen with rapt attention.
My heart melts and I slowly reverse back in the foyer not wanting to disturb him and return to my drink, and my melancholy. I take another large slurp trying to finish my smoothie before the blonde returns from the end of the bar.
"He came up with the idea last time he was here. It's a great scheme." She enthuses as she comes back from serving another customer. "It's for the local poor kids really but anyone can come along…and he does it for free. He's heavily involved in fundraising for the gallery I'm very lucky." she adds as if I needed further persuasion that the man wasn't a martyr in the making.
"You worked here long?" I ask really wanting to know, "have you been fucking him for long?"
"Well, we opened about five years ago now," she smiles warmly. I think, maybe she's not too bad then I remember she has just used a plural person pronoun.
"We?" I choke.
"Yes, my boyfriend, and me" she nodded wiping some glass with a dishtowel.
Oh God. She called him her boyfriend. I want to die, now, quickly please. She stops wiping and looks puzzled at my pained face.
"Sorry, I didn't realize Edward was serious with anyone," I say lamely gulping the last dregs of my never-ending now bittersweet drink. I'll never be able to eat bananas and strawberries again!
"Edward? Edward's like a brother to me," she snorts. "Here's my boyfriend now."
I look up and see a beautiful muscular guy walks up to the bar gives us both a nod before sticking his head into the gallery and shouting, "Yo, Edward!"
Edward mumbles something to his class and opening the doors shakes hands with the muscular guy. "Emmett!"
"Leave him alone Emmett he's teaching!" shouts the blonde across to them.
"I've only just said 'hello' Rosalie!"
I avert my eyes quickly as Edward looks our way, he frowns a little and I decide it's probably best I go in case he thinks I snooping on him. Which I wasn't, not intentionally anyway, well maybe a little.
"Thanks for the drink," I say to Rosalie and make my way to the exhibition gallery, glad to be on my own for a moment.
I look at the large portraits of kids in Haiti but I can't cast a critical eye on anything, all I can think about is Edward. This is getting ridiculous, I almost stamp my feet in frustration. I can't seem to forget about him at all, coming on this trip just seems like it was a huge mistake. But I can't help but hope deep down that he will have seen me come in here and excuse himself from his friends and come find me so I sit down in pathetic anticipation.
Twenty minutes pass and no one else has entered the room so I decide to leave with my shredded dignity and return to my room to pack. I'll leave a note for Angela and catch the train back to the city. My heart can't take this anymore. I can't focus, I can't think clearly on anything. Every time I close my eyes, I just see his face, I can still feel him under my fingertips.
I exit the gallery to find the rest of my class in the foyer; I guess they had the same idea about scouting the place out early.
Edward breaks away from Emmett and Rosalie and beckons the group around him. "You've got an hour to look around then we'll be heading in the coach to visit an artist in residence on a local farm," he reveals. The group groans in unison. "She's doing some really interesting work I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."
Another woman? Is this place a babe haven for Edward? I sigh and reassert my decision to go home, as I walk towards him I feel a cold handgrip around my heart and feel the edges of a panic attack start to swarm me but I fight it off. There are still a cluster of girls batting their eyelashes at him trying to corner him as I reach him and catch his gaze.
"Edward? Mr. Cullen?" I try to sound as rational and calm as possible.
"Miss Swan?" he asks, looking worried as if I might betray him to the group. Maybe I should tell them he's only after one thing. They probably wouldn't care anyway, well if that's what they want then I definitely won't tell them. Calm down, Bella.
The girls stop their chatter and I can feel them all turn to stare at me, hating me for interrupting their time with him. I try to continue looking at him as I talk but I realize my voice is in serious danger of cracking if I do.
"I think I'm going to get my things and catch a train back to the city" I say hoping that will be the end of it.
"Can I ask why?" He takes a step towards me but I instinctively take a step backwards, I feel my hands curl into fists and shake slightly.
"Look at me, Miss Swan." I drag my eyes up to meet his, surely he can tell I'm not up to this? Just being in the same building as him is killing me. Does he really want me to rip my heart out for him? Then will he let me go?
"Please stay," he looks at me with real urgency in his voice. "At least go and see the documentary on French photography this evening? It's being set up in the larger gallery."
So that's all he cares about; my education, I nod and whisper. "Yes. Okay". I want to say "I will do anything you ask of me. Please just think of me," but as soon as I have acquiesced the gaggle of girls close in on him again and he is left to field their incessant questions.
As I walk away I think I can feel his eyes bore into the back of me, probably with disdain or anger but I daren't look around. I march straight up to the homestead and returning to my room throw myself onto the bed and cry myself to sleep.
…
"You missed the field trip," Angela says as she bursts in the room and pulls the covers back from my head.
As I wake up from my heavy sleep, visions of Edward flitter back to me. It seems he is always in my thoughts. Angela sees my face and sits down on the side of my bed.
"Bella," she says stroking my hair with her hand. "You've been crying."
I wipe my face with the back of my sleeve and let out a wretched sniffle.
"Are you homesick? You can't still be travelsick surely?" she probes gently.
I shake my head, how desperately I need to talk to someone. I wish Alice were here. Maybe if I let my suffering out in the open it wouldn't seem so bad.
"I think I know what the problem is," she said handing my some tissues.
"You do?" I'm amazed, I thought I'd kept my feelings hidden so well.
"It's that boy isn't it?"
"Huh?" I wouldn't exactly call Edward a boy.
"That Jacob you introduced me too during Fresher's week?" She tilts her head and looks at me with sympathetic eyes until I give in and gently nod back.
"Thought so," she said. "Come on, go have a shower and you can tell me all about it".
I unpack a dress from my suitcase and head towards the shower room. The hot water on my skin is soothing and I gradually begin to feel more like myself. I return to the room to find Angela in a panic.
"Oh no", Angela looked at her watch, "that documentary film is starting in the gallery in five minutes, we'd better hurry. It's going to be standing room only."
"You go on," I told her, "I'll be down in a minute."
"Okay," she grabs her bag and heads for the door, "see you down there."
I want to make sure I looked presentable in case I ran into Edward again, hopefully I won't be able to stare at him in the dark, that's if he goes.
I take my time walking back to the gallery and I even hang about for an extra moment to make sure I'm the last one in. I draw the heavy curtain aside and creep in. It is very dark inside the room as the opening credits to the documentary end and Henri Cartier-Bresson's face appears on the screen. It is crowded too and I squint against the dark, finding a small clearing near the back of the room.
I thought I was the last one in but a few seconds later a man comes and stands behind me. I feel annoyed, I want to just be by myself not have to be aware of anyone else, but then I stop breathing as a familiar voice whispers into my ear; "I'm glad you're here Bella."
I hitch my breath and swallow nervously, too frightened to turn around in case I scare him off. I feel him take a step closer to me so his whole body is pressed against mine and I shiver. I still myself waiting, hoping for him to touch me, I daren't move from excitement.
Finally I feel him draw his finger down the side of my neck. I shiver audibly and I feel his other hand slowly reach up to my face and cover my mouth to quiet me.
"This okay?" he seductively murmurs into my hair and I slowly nod as my eyes widen and I feel my need for him in my panties.
"Be very still," he warns as he holds me for a minute, one hand on my mouth the other traveling down my side, cautiously squeezing my breast before continuing down. I feel his hand caress an ass cheek and slowly pull my dress up so I am exposed to him and I hear he make a noise of excitement as he becomes very evidently aroused.
He holds me close to him, his erection nestling between my ass cheeks, and his hand reaches round to the front of my panties and slowly he strokes the cotton over my clit.
I can't help but murmur in contentment even with his hand firmly clamped over me. He stops touching my clit and when he knows I am quiet he releases my mouth slightly and pushing my lips apart with his finger slides it into my hot, wet mouth.
As he slowly pushes and pulls his finger in and out of my mouth, I hear him utter very quietly "Oh…Good…God" with every movement. "Bella, beautiful Bella".
I clench my ass to remind him I am still exposed and he suppresses a naughty snigger and removing his finger from my mouth tenderly clamps my lips shut again.
He takes the other hand still resting on my clit away and I almost cry with the loss of heat from myself. I'm desperate to turn around and look at him, to touch him, but I keep my eyes front as the documentary continues. A few people cough or shift position as they watch.
"I've been wanting you all day," he kisses the side of my neck letting his lips rest on my skin.
His hand retraces my ass and he slowly draws two fingers along my pussy. I want to move, to rock against his hand but his tight grip leaves me very little room to move. Like before he moves my panties to one side and I feel his two fingers plunge into me.
It feels glorious, he keeps them still for a moment, until he is sure I won't move, then he gently flicks them inside me.
"Christ, Bella. You want this too." He growls next to me as I feel him push a third finger inside.
I open my lips and nip the inside of his hand, he briefly winces in surprise then gives me his thumb to bite down on. I feel all three fingers move inside me in a 'come hither' motion and I let my head fall back so its resting against his strong, hard chest. He starts to move his fingers inside me faster and whispers dirty nothings in my ear.
"Let go, Bella," he urges as I can't help but move my body in time with his fingers. I let go of his thumb and he reaches down into my bra and pinches a nipple really hard. I love it. He pinches the other one and starts hitting the inside wall of my vagina so hard with his fingers I have to bite my lip to stop myself from crying out. I know I'm close to cumming any second.
I move my hands to the front of my panties and rub my clit to help me along. "Are you touching yourself?" he asks me as he places his hand back over my mouth.
I suppress another moan as I pretend it's his hand rubbing me as his fingers go even deeper. "I wish I could watch your face as you cum," he adds. With that my body rises and rises and I don't think I will ever stop climaxing until I am jerked back down to reality and my body convulses around his fingers.
"That's my girl," he tells me as we stand amongst the audience and he holds tightly onto me.
"I'm in 11b, come to me at dawn," he finishes before letting me go and disappearing into the crowd.
…
I put my phone alarm on vibrate and set it for just before 4am and fall asleep clutching it. It is still dark when it goes off in my hand and I am pulled into reality. Carefully getting dressed I tiptoe up to his floor and gently sneak a hand up to knock on his door.
"Bella?" I turn, and standing in front of me is Esme. Edward opens the door to his room and sees us before him.
"Bella," he whispers as if dazed, his hands reaching out towards me.
"No, Edward," I warn, my eyes plead with him to be silent.
"I knew this was mistake," she looks between us as Edward tries to embrace me in his arms and I push him away.
"I thought I could trust you." She tells us both and I feel disgraced, knowing I have been dishonorable towards her.
"She's nearly 21, this is ridiculous," says Edward raising his voice.
"That's it. I've had it," says Esme with finality in her voice. "You're fired."
"What?" my mouth falls open.
"But he's your son," I reason, surely she wouldn't do this? The scandal of why he was fired could ruin him.
"Exactly," she says her cold eyes cutting me down dead, "if my own family won't listen to me why should anyone else?"
She turns to Edward but looks past him, "Get your stuff and go."
"That's not the only reason though is it, Esme?" he eyes are black with anger as he stares at her.
…
Please let me know what you think!