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Chapter 6: The Flight-not-Fight Response

Bella's POV

I ran from the room as fast as my shaky legs could carry me, barely missing the A/V cart as Mr. Cromley pushed it down the hall to his tenth grade World History class. I felt the familiar sway and rumbling in my stomach, the thumping in my head. "Just get to the bathroom … Just get to the bathroom …"

I reached the bathroom door just as a gaggle of freshmen were walking out but they were too busy gushing about some "really hot senior" to notice. I waited what seemed like an eternity for them to get out of the way so I could get into the bathroom, splash some water on my face, and attempt to calm down.

But when I walked into the bathroom, my flight from Government class screeched to a halt at the sight of Alice standing in front of the sinks. Her eyes were soft and kind and, if I didn't know any better, apologetic. I stopped four feet away from her, my chest heaving in shock.

She took a step toward me.

"Bella ..."

I didn't move or speak. She held out her hands.

"I just want …"

My head started shaking slowly as my feet began their retreat. "No."

She was getting closer, "But if you could …"

I ran out of the bathroom and glanced down the hall to the right. My eyes landed on the grey door that would lead out of this building and to my English class where Romeo, Juliet, and he would be waiting.

I couldn't do it.

I made a left instead and beelined for the nurse's office. With all the butterflies and vultures swirling around in my stomach, an illness wouldn't be hard to fake. I leaned into the desk with a grimace and explained that I was having a stomachache and needed to go home. She knew I was Chief Swan's daughter and had already picked up the receiver to call him when I whispered "Girl trouble" with a meaningful stare. She tsked her sympathy and scribbled me a quick note after hanging up the phone. "Let's just keep this between us," she winked. I grabbed the note with more gratitude than she could possibly understand and made for my truck, praying Alice hadn't peeked and sent him after me.

But the parking lot was devoid of people, and I gulped down the fresh damp air in an attempt to stablize. My eyes couldn't resist a glance to the left, and upon seeing the shiny silver Volvo in its rightful place, the first wave of tears popped out of my eyes and I knew that if I didn't get myself under control, I'd be stuck there until the final bell. I climbed into my truck, gripping the steering wheel for strength. "Make it home, Bella … just make it home."

The mantra worked. Although I arrived without killing myself or anyone else, I'd never known driving through tears was possible, and I prayed I'd never have to do it again. I slammed my front door shut and fell against it as the events of the morning came crashing down on me.

I had spent the past dozen hours trying to figure out how I was going to live without him. Lamenting what we lost as it was too soon to revel in what we'd had. And I was doing all right. I wasn't flipping out or throwing things. I wasn't balled up under my desk, twitching and talking to myself. I hadn't even cried in about fifteen minutes.

Then the unthinkable happened.

He appeared.

Like an angelic apparition out of the morning mist, he appeared in front of my eyes, as if summoned by my heart in spite of my determination not to think about him.

He appeared, impossibly beautiful at the front of my classroom, and my grip on reality dissolved. My mind flipped through a hundred different thoughts inside of a minute, too quickly for my feeble heart to keep up, and I struggled to understand what I was feeling. But as I started to come out of the fog, I remembered the last coherent thought I'd managed since yesterday's escape.

"Anger was my new best friend."

My BFF had gotten me through the worst night of my life, and I had only come to school today because it was fastened to my side.

So in spite of my desire to run to the front of the classroom and throw my arms around the wayward, foolish man who had miraculously come back to me, I held on to my anger. Because anger hadn't failed me. Anger hadn't hurt or tried to leave me. Anger came to me when nothing else could help and lifted me out of the misery that had threatened to steal my life.

So I held on to my anger as he passed me by, clenching my fists to keep from reaching out to touch him. I sat as far away from him as humanly possible, knowing that if our bodies had any contact, no matter how incidental, I would have surely been expelled from school for indecent behavior.

And I wouldn't have cared.

I held on to my anger as class began, shielding his loveliness from my peripheral vision so as not to fantasize about planting kisses all over his cheek and neck. I had never taken such detailed notes, never gotten so much out of an educational B-movie in twelve years of schooling.

So engrossed was I in the governmental goings-on of Seventeenth Century America that I was unprepared when he sighed, breathing his delicious scent all over me. Instinctively I started to turn toward him, my mouth watering at the thought of his cool tongue and lips. But anger stepped in and held me down, causing me to flinch. Realizing the mistake I'd almost made, I reminded myself of my new best friend aloud. If he heard me, he didn't react.

Then as I sat shackled to my anger, I made the mistake of dissecting his appearance. How did he come to be here? Had he fled yesterday and then come back? Was he on his way out of town this morning, then decided to see me once last time? Was he back for good or giving goodbye another try? Or did he not leave at all? Had he been here since yesterday, idling undecided as he tried to figure how to solve a problem like his Bella? And if he'd done that, then that means he had let me think he was really gone. He had let me mourn and wail and lose my mind when the whole time, he was hiding out in the forest like the mythical creature he claimed to be. Could he have done that? Could he really be that foolish?

Yes. That much was certain.

And as this last possibility seemed more and more like a certainty, I found that I didn't need to rely on my friend anymore because I was angry all over again. I had no proof that my hypothesis was right, none whatsoever. But I knew him, knew that when it came down to his decisions, the most absurd and unhelpful course of action would always be his first choice. He hadn't left, hadn't so much as packed a bag. And he hadn't bothered to call, text, or send a message by carrier pigeon to tell me so.

Instead he'd sauntered in here with all his cool perfection, sat next to me and … what in the … was he trying to touch me? After he left me alone all night long thinking he was gone and never coming back? Is he serious?

I yanked my hand away so fast that I almost hit myself with it. The nerve of him! Thinking he could make it all better by caressing my hand with his gentle touch, those hands like icy velvet that knew exactly where to touch me, knew exactly how to make me feel like …

No, Bella. Stay focused. He abandoned you … you think. And you are angry. You are very very angry.

That remindere carried me through the rest of the period. I thought I could make it to English without speaking to him, and once I arrived in Mr. Varner's class, I could just sit with Angela. She wouldn't mind and she wouldn't ask any questions. And if I could carefully plan the rest of my day, I could get through it without speaking to him until I was ready. I could do this. With my best friend by my side, I could totally do this.

But through the heat of my rage, I could feel him sitting there. I could almost hear the churning in his mind as he contemplated what to say. And the thought of him speaking without permission incensed me.

"So what, did you forget something in your locker?"

I'd startled him. I heard him stutter, unprepared to answer me, and that felt good. Confident now, I spoke again.

"Then what the hell are you doing here?"

I was winning. In the contest for control of my heart, I was winning.

And then, like most inexperienced gamblers, I pressed my luck.

I turned to him for the first time since he'd sat down. And I was unprepared for what I saw.

Love.

His eyes … eyes that I had memorized from the moment I first looked into them … were sparkling, shimmering with love. With passionate love, patient love, immortal love.

And all of it, for me.

The realization rendered me senseless and obliterated my anger. My heart swelled with desire, with gratitude, with joy, but I couldn't make the words come out of my mouth. The shift was too drastic, too sudden for my mind to catch up. I needed a minute, ten tops, to get myself together so I could tell him what I was feeling, take him back in my arms and never let him go.

But his eyes were on me, unyielding in their adoration, and I couldn't handle it.

So I ran.

For the second time in two days, I ran from him, ran when I wanted to stay with him most.

And if that wasn't bad enough, I ran from his sister twelve seconds later, without so much as an explanation.

What the hell was wrong with me? Why couldn't I just face him and deal with this so we could get back to love? Why was I treating this very real and too painful situation like a scene from a Lifetime movie?

The questions clanged in my head as the answers eluded me. I picked my bookbag off the hallway floor and walked into the living room. With no idea what to do next, I collapsed face down on the couch and sighed into its cushions. Maybe if I lay here long enough, I could get myself together and figure out how to approach him.

Him.

I still couldn't bring myself to say his name, afraid of what dangerous sensations might be unleashed.

But the memory of his face was too fresh, his scent clouding up my head too pure and fragrant not to be acknowledged by the word that represented all that he was.

I closed my eyes and held very still.

"Edward."

My heart fluttered and sputtered with the unfamiliar action. But it kept on beating, so I tried again.

"Edward."

The slightly louder sound filled the room, anointing the space with its beautiful melody. A smile upturned the corners of my mouth as a stream of happy tears washed over them.

"Edward."

My soul was trembling, feeling as if it would shatter with joy. I said his name over and over, embracing and tasting it as it made me whole. Again and again, I called his name, expelling my fear and sadness with each repetition. I sang and shouted it, heedless of who might hear me, when a knock at the door snapped me out of my romantic reverie.

I stopped moving and talking, thinking I was hearing things.

Then … three firm raps on the door.

I looked at the calendar on the far wall. Mrs. Wynne wasn't dropping off those coats for the Clothing Drive at the police station until tomorrow. It was too early for Mr. Lauren with the mail and I wasn't expecting any packages.

Then it hit me.

He's here!

I jumped up and whipped my head toward the front of the house.

He's really here!

He heard me calling his name and he came to me! Or more likely, that wonderful, nosy Alice told him of my plans and directed him here. Oh, bless you, Alice! Thank you for being such an instigating, omniscient pain in the butt!

My palms began to sweat and I could feel my heart pounding with new life. I wished I had thought to shower when I first came home, but that was of little import now. Edward had come to me. Everything else was secondary.

As I walked to the door, I raked my fingers through my hair and wiped my face. I took a deep breath, convinced myself not to scream, and prepared to gaze into the honeyed eyes of my beloved beau.

But when I opened the door, my smile fell as it melted under the hostile gaze of my unexpected visitor.

"Rosalie?"

Okay, so don't kill me. Bella and Edward will talk ... but not yet. Apparently Rose has something she needs to get off her chest.

It has been really great getting to know some of you through the private messages. You guys rock! Special shout out to Zam for making me laugh and being so insightful, and to megacoffeequeen who has claimed the title of my #1 fan :)

If you haven't already, please check out CassandraLowery's "Pinned but Fluttering." She posted a new chapter on Saturday night, so you have her to blame for this chapter not being finished yesterday as I was all caught up in her story :)

Thanks again for reading, reviewing, and recommeding SP. Your feedback and thoughts make writing this story a true pleasure.

Off to write Chapters Seven and Eight ... expect Seven by Thursday.

Happy Monday!