Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or its characters. The plot of this is mine, though. I also don't own A Decade Under The Influence. That's TBS's.
Author's note: Another getting-to-know-you chapter! Listen to A Decade Under The Influence by Taking Back Sunday while you read it. It was my inspirational music for this chapter. Also, I'd like to thank Kimi, my best friend, for always nagging me to write more chapters. I also want to thank Grrovvyhevens, GreenEyes44, Straw Hat Melody & Smashy-smashy for adding me to their Story Alerts. Thank you to twilight-lover135, Straw Hat Melody & carolineSonPotter for adding me to their favorite author/story list. Lastly, lots of love and thanks to Bookflower, Grrovvyhevens & Straw Hat Melody for the Reviews. :) I appreciate it so much. : Reviews are welcome, loves!
Chapter 4
His car was really cozy. It wasn't my first time to ride a Volvo, but this one seemed to have a cryptic appeal to it. He switched on his radio and tuned in to a random rock station. A familiar song was playing and I couldn't help but sing along.
"Well, sad, small, sweet so delicate," I sang quietly an octave higher than the vocalist's pitch. "It used to be this dying breed."
"Well, I've got a bad feeling about this," he sang the next line with a grin. "I've got a bad feeling about this."
"You kept still until the long drive home," I continued a bit louder this time. "And slept safe and close to the window"
"Well, I've got a bad feeling about this. I've got a bad feeling about this."
"Who's to say you have to go?" we chorused, increasing our volume. "Well, say you have to go. To hell with you and all your friends, to hell with you and all your friends. It's on."
We laughed as we danced inside the confines of his car, occasionally singing a line or two. This was fun, I had to admit. For a moment, I forgot about Twilight and his connection to it. All I knew is that I was having fun with my new friend, Edward.
"I can't believe you know this song," he mused.
"Why?" I asked, a bit surprised by his unexpected statement. "It's an amazing song!"
"I know it is," he smiled. "It's just that most girls I know are into hip-hop or RnB or something like that."
"Well, I'm not like most girls."
"I figured that much, and for the record, I'm glad you aren't."
"Thanks," I grinned. "Hm, so what's your favorite genre?"
"Classical music, rock and alternative, anything along the lines of that."
"Classical? You mean like Schubert or Tchaikovsky?"
"You're familiar?" he said excitedly. I suppose in this generation, you'd rarely find someone familiar with that kind of music.
"Yes, but just a bit," I admitted. "Piotr Tchaikovsky's my favorite composer."
"I like Claude Debussy. What's your genre?"
"Rock, as well, oh, and Bossa Nova. Sappy old love songs are cool, too."
"You never cease to amaze me, Francesca," he chuckled.
"I could say the same for you, dear."
He smiled at me and turned to concentrate on driving. He looked so peaceful sitting there, staring at the horizon (or the road, whichever). I debated with myself on whether to bother him with my pointless questions. He seemed to have noticed me staring at him.
"Is something wrong?" he asked with concern evident in his voice.
"I want to get to know you more," I said, sounding more demanding than I had planned.
"What do you want to know?"
"I want to know more about your interests and your talents."
"My interests and talents," he considered. "Well, you can say that I'm musically inclined. I play one too many instruments and I compose my own songs."
"Well, that's one thing we have in common," I said. "I compose, too."
"Maybe we should jam sometime, yeah?"
"We should," I said in a determined tone. "Well, go on. What are your interests?"
"My interests change from time to time. I'm very fickle, or very random. You decide. I like a lot of things – intellectual things and silly things. Anything that can amuse me, I like."
"I see," I processed everything he had just said.
"How about you? What are your talents?"
"I suppose there's only one thing I'm actually good at."
"What's that?"
"That would be photography. Back home, I get some of my shots displayed. I love taking pictures. The sound of the shutter would have to be the most beautiful thing I've ever heard."
"Maybe one day you could show me your shots."
"I'd be glad to," I smiled.
"Okay," he said after a few minutes of silence. "Here we are."
I stepped out of the vehicle and stared wide-eyed at the colossal structure in front of me – the Cullen mansion. The house was timeless, graceful, and probably a hundred years old. It was painted soft, faded white, three stories tall, rectangular and well proportioned. I just had to quote Stephenie Meyer on that one because the house was exactly what I had imagined it to be.
We slowly walked following a path to the front steps as I looked around, taking in the beauty of my surroundings. We stopped in front of the door and Edward turned to me.
"Are you ready to meet a house full of vampires?" he snickered and I joined his laughter.
"Ready as ever," I said, trying to control my giggles.
He opened the door and announced, "I'm home."
