Disclaimer: These are not Stephanie's vampires.
Chapter Three
Isabella Swan
I sit up in bed, gasping – trying to take in air faster than my body can process it. I feel too warm even with the comforter kicked off my body. Judging by the light from the window, it's early in the morning and I know that Dad will be up soon. But I have time to sit in my semi-dark room and wallow with the terrors of my dream.
Wiping the sweat from my brow, I force my eyes to be open – because maybe then the nightmare will feel less real. The growling from last night certainly didn't help me because it sounded so familiar.
It was familiar, just like the nightmare is always, always the same. First there is the counting down, the happy voices going from five to three, never making it further. And then, the loud explosion and the thundering growls. Then pain – so much searing pain, the feeling of being burned alive, the feeling of smoke choking my lungs. And right as I can feel myself fading – dying – in the nightmare, the growling is close to my ear.
Until last night, I'd always assumed the growling was all the same; but now, I knew the difference. Last night, the growling had clearly been outraged.
In my dreams, the final growl was filled with sorrow.
Not wanting to waste anymore time thinking about it – and knowing that I have my Friday morning class in a few hours – I swing my legs off my bed, my feet touching the chilled hardwood floors. Instantly, my head snaps to the window and I squint at the secure locks, nodding to myself.
The fuzzy yellow light that the bathroom bulb gives off doesn't do the heavy bruising on my neck any favors. I gently trail my fingers over the purplish outline of a meaty palm that presses into my trachea and sigh, turning away from the mirror and nearly marching back to my old bedroom – I know I have an old turtleneck hidden somewhere in my closet and it would have to do until I got back to the dorm.
Slipping the shirt on and dragging my long hair out of the back, I shudder, thinking about how Dad would react if he saw those bruises. Thinking about his hypothetical reaction reminded me that I needed to report Paul to campus security as soon as possible after my Psychology Studies class.
Dad is already up – of course – and reading the morning paper by the time I get downstairs. Just like the old days, I fix him a cup of black coffee and turn to the fridge, getting all the necessary ingredients out.
"Thanks, kiddo," he says after his first sip.
I smile at him, comfortable in the routine that we had adopted since my days in high school. I quickly put together the French toast and join him at the table; we eat in a cozy silence after Dad passes me the morning comics. After I clean up the kitchen and Dad is standing with the assistance of a walker, as he absolutely refused to be stuck in a wheelchair, I put on my shoes and give him a hug. "Love you, Dad."
"Love you, too, kiddo. You still coming for Sunday dinner?"
I nod. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."
Sunday dinner was something Mom had invented when I was a kid and Dad was still in the Navy. He would call in every Sunday night, wherever he was in the world, and "eat" dinner with us. Even after she passed and I went to stay with an Aunt for a while until Dad came home, we didn't miss it – rain or shine, that dinner would always be an honored family event.
Dad sends me off with a kiss on the cheek.
I guess I might have thought the news about what Paul tried to do to me would have spread in the eight hours since it happened because I was almost shocked when I didn't see any commotion on campus. Everything was normal, even the big tree Paul pushed me against.
Not a thing was out of place, not even a leaf.
I frown and hurry into the building, recognizing that weather in Washington had taken a turn for the cold faster this October.
The guy working at the dorm lobby flags me down, pushing glasses up his nose. "We got you a new room," he says. "Fifth floor, right below yours. Here's the key. Bring back the other one soon, okay?"
I nod, taking the key from him, and edit my plan to accommodate changing rooms before my shower. I'm cautious when I open up the door to my room on the sixth floor but this time, the window is closed. Still, I don't linger and I bag up all my clothes and books and lock the door behind me before dropping my stuff into my new room. It doesn't take long for everything to be organized as I really didn't have many – or any – personal belongings in my dorm.
As soon as I can, I hurry to take a quick shower, pleased that the bathrooms on this floor aren't co-ed. Even luckier, I seem to have the bathroom to myself at this time in the morning and the hallway is clear when I go back to my room.
My eyes are immediately on the closed and locked window as I shut the door behind me and I sigh with a small smile.
Change is good.
I pull on a pair of dual-tone taupe and beige floral print skinny jeans and a loose, oversized white sweater and then tuck the hem of my jeans into my trusty tan Oxford boots, tossing a knitted teal scarf around my neck. Glad that I seem to be blessed with long hair that refuses to tangle, I style my hair into a messy side-fishtail braid that will hopefully contain the curls for the day. A slick of beeswax chap-stick later and I'm grabbing my canvas messenger bag and heading out the door with just enough time to drop off my old room keys and get to class in the science building.
Or, so I thought.
Not a minute after I'm out of my dorm do I hear my name being called by Victoria, who is being trailed by James. Her smile is huge as she greets me. "There you are!"
I frown. "Hey. Look, I've got to get to class-"
"We'll walk with you," she says, moving to clutch James' hand with her own. "So, tell me about last night."
I ignore the wink she sends in my direction and start walking.
"Babe, maybe there's nothing to tell," James says.
Victoria laughs and moves into step beside me. "I saw the way Paul was looking at you," she tells me with a confident nod. "Of course something happened."
My grip on my messenger bag tightens and I nod. "Something happened," I confirm, trying to decide if I should tell them the truth or just save that for campus security.
"Oh! I knew it! When are you seeing him again?"
"Hopefully never," I mutter, closing my eyes when I do because I just know she heard it. I guess I would be telling the truth this morning.
"What do you mean?"
I sigh harshly through my nose and look at her through the side of my eyes. "Paul was a bit too eager. And, frankly, uncaring if I wanted to participate in his endeavors or not."
James' brows raise and his lips thin out. "Did he force himself-"
"Tried," I correct him absently, watching as Victoria's face loses it's typical rosy flush.
"Oh, my God," she says softly. "Are you okay, Bella?"
I touch the scarf that covers the bruises and nod. "Some wild animal scared him off. I went to my Dad's for the night."
No need to tell them that the real reason I slept at home was because of the window incidents.
That was just too weird to explain.
"Did you report that douche?" James asks, clearly upset.
"I will after class," I say as the science building comes into view.
"Bella-"
"After class," I promise and Victoria nods, looking like she could cry. I hurry up the steps, glancing back to see James hugging his girlfriend and looking beyond pissed – at Paul, at the world, at the fact that Victoria was crying.
I think about how lucky I am to have them as friends as I enter the toasty warmth of my classroom.
When I entered college, I was sure of my direction – I wanted to do research for mental illnesses and treatments. But, as I took more and more courses, my plan changed to becoming a psychologist myself - it was the best of both worlds in that I could see the disorders up close and personal and I could treat them. I truly enjoyed learning and the career I'd slated for myself promised a continuation of learning.
My instructor, Professor Peabody, was an eclectic woman with a cliché head of blue old-lady hair and round glasses that are too big for her face. She has stacks of books scattered around the small lecture room, some literally teetering on the edges of desks and nobody ever moves the piles – she claims that she has an order to the chaos. Personally, I think maybe she was having a touch of old-age memory loss half the time, but she was a good teacher and I respected her for that.
Right now, Professor Peabody is talking to a new student – which was odd given the point in the semester. The time to drop classes was two weeks ago and usually people didn't come into a class when mid-terms were right around the corner. But, I conceded, that maybe this guy was someone who didn't actually go to many of his classes – or, at least, this class.
From the back of the room, I could tell that he is quite tall and lean – if I was in an English class, I would use the word lanky to describe him – and even this far back, I can tell that his face is very angular.
I found it a bit odd that, while I typically didn't notice guys, I noticed him immediately. I told myself it was because he's talking to the Professor.
I find a seat in the back, near a pile of books, and settle into the thinning cushion, waiting for class to start. My feet end up on the seat beside me by the time Professor Peabody shoos off the new student and claps her hands several times to begin the class.
As soon as she starts in with new terminology, I find myself absorbed like I usually am – I can feel myself remembering everything she says and I don't bother to take notes like the rest of my classmates. Professor Peabody flitters from subject to subject but I don't have any trouble keeping up.
And neither does the new student.
I hadn't noticed that he chose to sit on my other side, until he shifted in his seat, his knee bumping into my chair.
I glance up sharply at him, a glare already forming, and stop short.
I had never, ever seen anyone as singularly attractive.
Even sitting, he was tall – and it wasn't because his legs are short, either. I'd judged him to be about James' height but he clearly had more than a few inches to hold over my friend. All of his limbs, including his fingers, were long and elegant. But it wasn't just being tall and lean; he clearly had a lot of definition in his muscles and much more control over his body than most guys. He sat still – almost too still – and straight, but I could tell that his muscles were coiled and tight.
And I just knew that he didn't bump my chair on accident.
If I hadn't figured it out myself, the small mischievous – and almost sheepish - smile on his full, pale lips would have given it away. I had been right in thinking his features were angular – but they were also stunningly symmetrical, simply rigid planes that made up a sharply cut jaw and straight nose. His dark hair, on the other hand, was made of slight waves and barely-there-curls and was perhaps a little too long and fell into eyes I'd never seen before.
Even with the tips of the dark strands blocking the full effect of the color, the bright green shade – almost a hue that fell between mint and fresh celery – made me breathless.
Literally.
I force myself to breath when I notice dark spots dancing in front of my vision and look away, beating myself up for letting some guy – though he was clearly a man – distract me to that degree.
I hear him hum beside me.
He sounds far too pleased.
I cross my arms and glare at the front of the room, where Professor Peabody is looking through a stack of books, for the remainder of class. I don't let my eyes stray no matter how much I want to turn and study the planes of his face again.
I especially don't turn to look at him when his knee bumps my chair again.
I won't give him – or myself – the satisfaction.
As soon as Professor Peabody dismisses the class, I stand and head out the door.
And just as I reach the hallway, a cool hand on my elbow stops me – and I shiver because that hand? It feels so completely right and good.
My entire body freezes and then kind of melts into the hand that leads me across the hall, towards a set of upholstered benches; my eyes are locked on a pair of very expensive shoes. I vaguely want to rip my elbow from his hand, but I can't bring myself to do so.
Once he has maneuvered us to be sitting side by side, he releases my elbow and finally feel like I have control over my body.
I jerk away from him and turn the full force of my glare on his minty eyes, feeling anger rise in me.
He smiles, not showing his teeth, and looks entirely too attractive. "You look so different," he murmurs, his eyes traveling over me. "But so much the same, too."
I feel my brows raise and I stand up. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" I bite out, gripping the strap of my messenger bag. I'd just about had it – just about reached my quota for the week – of idiot guys and this guy was clearly no exception.
His face falls and he looks disappointed – and I feel bad for a second, until he doesn't answer me.
"Right, well, if that's all you had to say, I'm late for work," I lie.
And then, he smiles again. "I'm Edward," he says. He looks down for a second, seemingly gathering his wits, and then the bright color of his eyes assault me again. "I heard you take tests."
My stomach drops and my anger evaporates.
I can't help but feel a little let down and I didn't know why.
Instead of lingering on my own unexplainable disappointment, I nod. "Depends on the test, but yeah."
"Great," Edward smiles. "I have a chemistry exam that I need assistance with."
I find myself remembering the date and location of his test and agreeing on a price absentmindedly.
Because that smile that didn't show any teeth?
It was completely disarming.
A/N: Another quick update. I. Am. On. A. Roll.
Reviews!
CdrIvanova – An update on the day you started! Lucky you! ;)
TwilightVirtuosa – Hi! I did take a peak at your stories and I love the potential I see there! But they need a lot of formatting editing – if you need a temporary beta until you find a more permanent one, shoot me a PM. I'd be happy to help!
B – Thank you! I love hearing that I'm unique. Huge compliment!
scareDcat – And it's going to get even better!
ngosa95 – They met! Next chapter coming soon!
Edward's spouse – For now, I'll let you decide if it was an animal ;)
Headinthecloudsss – I'll see about putting the date in the next chapter!
Blacklight1798 – Glad you love it!
lovestwilight2010 – Glad you loved it, too!
Debslmac – :D
mamacat20 – I don't feel bad for Paul! Lol
maysnrs – Hey, hey! As long as those patients keep their nurse, I'm good lol
SrslyGiGi – You read and loved it?! Lol Yay!
Maggiejoma – You're totally right! Paul is getting what he deserves!
cullen freak8888 – You'll find time, I'm sure. Things settle down pretty quick!
Welcome2MyWorldxoxo – Should Edward keep his head, or something? Lol
Cbmorefie – No, love lol You're not disturbing for thinking that!
Zozotheterrible – Also part of the ThrottlePaulClub, I see :p
Kimmie41 – Eh, for Bella's fashion, I'm not too concerned. Aside from the fact that she's a poor college student, she's also kind of a hipster. Not gonna lie, I typically dress like she does on a regular basis ;)
james3142 – Ah, the vote on Facebook made me go waifish! I wanted to do curvy, but the day that voting was happening, waifish won hands down lol
Lilypad10 – Edward is just a creeper. A white knight creeper lol
Dinotopian – You made me laugh! Their meeting was more of a meet-wtf than a meet-cute or a meet-scream, I think. I don't know, you tell me lol
TwiSagaLover – Glad you loved it!
Kaygou – very freaky!
YesMyRealNameIsBella – Actually, I didn't mention Bella being either curvy or waifish in her former life. I only mentioned her dress. And I totally agree with you but I honored the Facebook poll!
sujari6 – "Nasty accident" is right lol
tiffyboocullenjonas – Glad you loved it!
DoubleFate – The stalkerness is kind of adorable lol
Twilight Rocker 12 – lol Pauly D is a DJ on a tv show in the states :p He's also a douche, so I guess you're right!
vampyregirl86 – Ohh, so you're like the girl version of Edward? A sleep-watcher!
BMSCullen – He is slacking! Lol
Michangelina – Love that you're friggin' loving it!
And super special shout out to the first review of the last chapter, Pumpkinmykitty – I'm glad I made you hungry! Lol
Alright, off to have dinner and watch X-Factor. I'm hopelessly addicted to Simon!
As always, be brutally honest. I can take it.
~cupcakeriot