The names are not mine, the rest - is.

Causal Nexus

I turned to look at her; smashing heads fast, her clumsy spilling out before us. She was too close and we connected. The fact that I didn't sense how close, only proves that she's an anomaly - not comparable to the others, eliciting a noticeable contrast and causing a difference within me when we're around each other. It's true, my senses are extraordinary when it comes to Bella - I can smell her before I see her, but the rest of the humans blend together, one barely distinguishable from the next these days. I always sense her when she's nearby, not just when she's next to me, at my side - looking at me, leaning into me ever so slightly as she poorly recites French phrases, her paper cluttered with similar English phrases that she tells herself she will translate at a later time. When we're in class, I'm smothered by her scent, and the plucking motion of my insides - invisible strings, tied to her wrists. And so I didn't sense her stumble because my perception of our internal connection is foremost and overwhelming whenever we're in such close proximity.

Colliding, I felt the side of her face and the pleasure of her soft skin - however brief - against mine. Ever present and this close - the flooding lifeblood racing towards me, the painted rushes of her insides. Am I insane now? Did all the animal blood make me substantially more sensitive to human blood again? No. It's only hers. It's only her.

Sweeping the class, it's clear. The faces I know - their voices are louder than the rest. That's the only difference I sense. Siobhan, Eli, the Professor. Nothing else discerns them. I don't know the rest of the students, and I struggle to muster any interest to - amongst their faceless ranks, I desire only one.

But Bella - I see her hungry eyes and her pouty mouth. Sulking because she thinks I don't want to be near her. That after last night, I was weird and now, even weirder. She assumes there's something wrong with me. And there really might be. Past the telltale fangs and the hidden demon residing within me.

I have to get out of here. I have to speak to Carlisle or perhaps go even higher, older - Alistair would know - and find out what the fuck is going on with me.

But Bella - I see her hungry eyes and her creamy skin. Made prey by the glorious taint of her own blood; my ravenous hunger a tribute to it's sanguine majesty.

This can't be right, it's too intense too soon. She should be freaking out, alarmed at my stalking of her in class; it's not subtle, in fact it's outright blatant. I'm not even inconspicuous in my focal points, as I stare intently at her face, her mouth, her curves, her legs. If it is right, if she is my singer and we're pulled by the same hands, to the same well to drink, I'll gladly take the first sip. I'll gladly drink. This thirst commanding me, confining me to her, I would gladly drink and move and dance, and have and want. Still, I must be prepared before we move. Before we move together and I break her, delicate and warm to my cold and hard. What about the lines painted across her skin, and the sounds of her racing towards me, is this a part of it? When we touch, however short and sweet, it'salarming to me. There's a power there that I'm not even sure I can handle. I need to leave. I need to be gone, at once, be with the family and find some answers.

Silently asking me for those very answers, facing me once more as J.J drones on about his damn turtles. This is French class. This is French class and we should be taking an oral examination right now. In lieu of the answers I can't yet begin to give, I dig around for something to savour whatever it is she sees in me.

"I've decided to leave, ditch class. I have important matters to take care of instead. I'll come find you later, and we'll talk. Or we can practice for the oral exam, if you'd prefer - he won't call us today, we have time." Just one touch. One brush of her hand with my fingertips and she'll know my sincerity. She seemed to like it very much when I held her hand at the party - residual effects, if any, aside. "Forgive me." Ever so precisely, definitively, in this light, on this day, my skin to hers, sight seeing all that I am hungry for, held fast, we're connecting, connected in the best way. Crashing into each other once more, without the clumsy, without the frustration. She's warm, smiling. She's warm and I'm crashing fast, high above this room, these people, this notion that it somehow isn't right between us. And to think, this is just one beat in the pulsing heart of Bella. One beat, before the sound of drums that would be more, more hands, more flesh, my mouth on her pink, sweet - I'd have it all. I've waited for it. I've seen her face and heard her words, soft, sexy words, and I'll wait no more. I'm here, I'm in, and I'm ready to make this real.

"God, I hope he doesn't call us, I didn't practice like, at all." She's rambling about J.J., who cares? Don't you feel this? Maybe this is too much for her. Should I let go? I won't. Not yet. She seems spacey, must be nerves. Is she coping with her nerves, is that what I can attribute her nonchalance to? One thing I do know - I'm hungry. I will have to hunt, and maybe come prepared with other provisions next time. The sound of her heart is so loud, the sound of her heart pounding a rhythm against her chest, against my palm is flying, fast flying, not ceasing in this moment to shake me, make me. "But I'd like to talk...some more...do this...some more." I'm pleased by her response, as I squeeze assurance, our hands under the table, between us. I'm pleased at how I affect her, from the blush upon her cheeks, to the resounding song of her heart next to what she thinks is mine. "Edward..." Her fingers move inside my holding, as she eyes me, questioning, again. But I don't know these questions, so how can I begin to answer? A translucent pale, I see before me, from her usual creamy pink pale; she is sickly affected, suddenly sickly affected? I squeeze her fingers, attempting to know in ways I can't possibly know without her voice because she stopped speaking, stopped answering me and and her eyes are no longer as hungry as mine; the eager dusk of the almost black I see when she looks at me, gone. She looks tired. And all I feel is...everything. All at once...everything. I'm powerful, feeding off this lust as she shifts in plain sight - I can do anything with this, anything with her touch on mine. She's magnificent and I don't want to leave. But she looks...not at all like the Bella I've come to crave. "Bella? Bella!"

-o-

Edward said he wanted to talk. Edward said we could practice for our oral French quiz, but I couldn't help but think of his mouth and what it will be like when our tongues touch. One minute he was right there, looking at me, being into me. And the next he was looking around the room, like he wanted to be away from me. I tried to say something and he touched my hand again, holding it to him, instead of out in front of him. At first it was just nice, more than nice, amazing even, and better than last night because here, in the daylight, it felt more real somehow. His fingers are longer than mine, colder than mine. The tips of his fingers lined the tips of mine, his thumb along my nails, my pink nails. And I got lost right there in a moment of something almost too real because I became dizzy. Even if in this setting - in class rather than at the party - the potential for handling it all is greater this time. And I was handling it just fine. His fingers became a whole hand and he took me, he took me hard. Crushing me. He was like, completely crushing my fucking hand and I was frozen with the dizzy. This was too much, is too much and I couldn't tell him to stop or ask him why he was holding on so tight, because I couldn't speak. I was so taken by it, I couldn't move my legs to get up, or leave. I think I really might want to leave but I can't move my legs now and he's really fucking crushing my hand. I feel sick, nauseous and afraid. Most definitely afraid now. And I'm tired now. I think I might just rest my eyes now. I think maybe Edward will let go then, and I don't have to find the words from my disappearing voice, from my disappearing world.

AN:

The Boy works his words and ways through mine. It feels good. I thank him much. I thank him plenty.
Next chapter: Tuesday

It's a slow burn, my loves. I hope you put your seat belt on!

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samrosey. xo