The names are not mine, the rest - is.

What's My Line?

I'm afraid of the blood, her blood. The essence of everything I know, and crave - need to survive. Just simply and truly afraid. A talk with Jasper about what I see, and how she affects me when I'm near her, resulted in some unsatisfactory advice from my brother. He told me he has never experienced such a thing and that it's most likely a visceral reaction because of how I feel about her. That because I find her scent unique, the lust is multiplied. He said not to worry. I should continue on the medicinal path, and relax. Fuck him. It is real. I resolved to speak with Carlisle about the notion of a singer. I never gave much thought to it before. Not even knowing if I believe in it - the thought that someone could, with their very being, call out to me and only me - what reason would I have to believe in that? Over a hundred years, and no mate to be found. Not any real compelling connections that I later on found hard to break. Nothing even coming close to how I see Bella. The months of watching, learning, lusting. Is Bella my singer? I still didn't know if that's possible, but a talk is necessary. Necessary if I want to get closer to her. Before we touched for the first time at the party, I would often convince myself it wasn't real - the visual effects of her pulling me in - because I really wasn't certain. Though now, I think maybe it was even there the first time I sat next to her. I think maybe I knew it was important, that she was important all along. The lines. The rushing, bursting blood of Bella.

Exasperation never trumps the excitement for me, the anticipation of what's to come the next time I see her, it's imminent, our next phase. I have to know her. More of her. I have to have her. All of her.

I think maybe Bella Swan might be the death of me.

-o-

"Can we start again?" He speaks. And I just nod. "Hello. I'm Edward Cullen. You're Bella." It's not a question. And I know his name. Does he think I don't know? Does he think I'm like, blind to his presence effecting my very life.

He said hello to me. Is this the start, the step before the step or is it the only step that really counts, ensuring we can reach all of the steps? Why not before? He was nervous too maybe...or maybe didn't even know me before, didn't notice me before. He knows my hand. And he's noticed my boobs. He does look at them. He also looks at my eyes and my arms though.

"Your turn." He speaks again. And his mouth is the most mouth I've ever wanted to see. I could look at it for a long time. I could want to have it and only it forever.

"Did you have fun at the party?" I ask - I don't know what else to say to him. Every moment has to lead to another. Another moment of him speaking and listening, wanting to be here. This is way harder than it looks on TV.

"It was...fine." He says it was fine. Fine meaning like, good, it was fun for him? Because I saw him with that girl and he looked more than fine. "Do you have oral today?" I turn as he turns and the black orange of the insides of my eyelids tries to block out the intense pain. His words ending up as both confusing and achy as I realise we've bumped heads.

It's weird now and he doesn't speak again. I'm just shocked and feeling bad for being so clumsy. He moved so fast...he flinched away from me and it was weird. His arms and his body are further away now, further than before. He looks...angry. "I didn't mean to... I'm sorry, I..." What I want to say is like, moving me. I feel horrible and after last night, I thought today would be different to all my other attempts. He would remember how it felt holding my hand and he would smile and we would both know. Maybe he'd ask me out on a date and I could proceed to mumble all night about how perfect he is and how much I have wanted this for months. Annoyed with myself, I can't help it, "Hey sensitive, meet awkward." I wave a wave with my hand and he doesn't laugh. Or even smile.

"Why would you say such a thing?" Yeah, he definitely looks pissed.

"It's not a big deal. It was an accident." I try to tell him, huffing out my words, impatient with my thoughts, I worry he thinks I'm annoyed with him. I don't know why I said that. I am nervous. And he's...silent.

"It's not you, Bella." My name is a song, falling from his lips. A morning song from one of the birds that sit outside my window.

"It's not me." I say it out loud, not asking, just repeating because I don't know if I really want to know. I just know he said it. And now it's out there, hanging in the middle of us.

"I wanted to apologise. Apologise for last night at the party. I was stoned out of my mind. I wanted to stay and talk to you - I had hoped you would come. And I want to talk to you now, and sit here with you. But... Bella, it's not as easy being-"

It was in this moment, I hoped J.J would die.

I hoped J.J would get sucked into the ground by the hellmouth. And I hoped Edward would forever tell me what he was about to tell me.

J.J is our French teacher and for some reason, he like, has turtles. Technically, they're baby terrapins and they're sorta cute and I sometimes even watch them as I practice the French words in my head. I don't get it though. This is college and his class is decorated the same way Mrs Cope decorated our class in grade school, and I don't know what the point is. Are we supposed to get the joke? J.J is here early and I wish he would not be. Because I did need to practice my oral today, before class, before now with Edward. But then Edward came. And now we're about to move into something I can actually hold and believe is real. It's all been so unspoken from the very first moment he sat next to me. His hair, a wild mess of rustic delight. His grey coat that I wanted to touch, soft material covering all that I longed to see. He never wore it again, but every time I think of him, fantasise about him, he's wearing it. He's always wearing it. You know, except for when he's not. I can't focus, I just want him to tell me, and for us to be able to say, "Hey, I like you. Can you be kissing me now?" Can he just be kissing me now. And this unspoken dance we've played a silent song to since September that is pulling at both of us, won't just be imaginary. Today I told myself I would ask him. Just ask him. I mean, you don't hold a persons hand, if you don't like...want to. Right?

But J.J is talking. And I'm screwed if I'm called to take the test today. I look at Edward. I try to look at him without being obvious but he is stony, straight-faced as he looks head on to the front of class as J.J waves his arms about. I think when I get the chance, I might tell him we smoked in the woods. And I definitely want to know about his eyes, they're so light today, they're so melty brown, coated in caramel - different than before. And I'll ask him why he got so weird when we accidentally bumped heads. And the smelling thing. I smell like fruit today, I wonder if he noticed - I used a new body butter type thing and... I smell pretty.

AN:

The Boy smells pretty too; sexy and sweet. I'm so thankful he wants to pre-read my crazy shit!
Next chapter: Friday

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