Note from the translator: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight characters, and the lovely French author Drinou owns the story Collisions. I'm just trying to get said story known by more readers all around the world. Good reading.

Chapter 13: Strange

It's with a triumphant smile on my face that I left the room, holding the arm of my pseudo one-night lover.

Now I had to find a solution to get rid of Mister Crazy Glue hanging on my arm.

And faster than that!

Eric had been very useful to me tonight, but it was out of question that things would go any further with him.

I'd rather die than… Yuck!

Once we were outside the Zanzibar, Eric hailed the first cab that passed in front of us.

"Your place or mine?" he asked me with what was supposed to be a charming smile on his lips.

A wind of panic suddenly swept over me. I needed a way out, it was obvious, but I needed it fast! The first thing that crossed my mind was to invoke some sickness.

"I'm sorry, Eric, but I don't feel very well. I might be coming down with something. I think I'm going to head home and have some rest," I tried.

"Then I'll accompany you. I'm not leaving you alone if you're sick."

Dang. This one wouldn't let go so easily.

Pretend to vomit on his shoes; that should make him run for the hills…

I rolled my eyes. Even in those awkward moments, that dirty little inner voice wouldn't leave me alone. If only it could shut up rather than rub salt into the wound…

"Listen, don't take it the wrong way, but right now I really feel like going home alone," I told him, strongly emphasizing on the last word.

Maybe this time the information would sink into his brain and he'd understand that I didn't want him whatsoever. It was clearly not very fair of me after making him believe I was potentially interested, but to hell with guilt. He happened to be there when I needed a little help, and God, it had been so enjoyable to see Edward Cullen like that!

Oh yeah, it was almost orgasmic! Although I'd have liked it to be for something else that I felt this way…

As Eric was about to protest, I cut the conversation short by swiftly engulfing myself into the taxi impatiently waiting for us.

"Thanks for the cab," I said, shutting the yellow door.

I saw him break down on the sidewalk, gaping while I nimbly gave my address to the taxi driver.

I wasn't very proud of my behavior. Try as I might to tell myself I shouldn't feel guilty, I knew what I'd just done was wrong. And for what? For shutting up Mister Perfect and his two dolls. The taste of victory had vanished as soon as it had appeared. I wasn't like him. I wasn't interested in making people suffer and I was already regretting my attitude of tonight.

Regret it all you want, but it won't prevent said Mister Perfect from getting back at you first thing Monday morning!

I started panicking at this thought. The beginning of the week promised to be catastrophic for me. Standing up to Edward Cullen and rubbing him the wrong way was definitely not a good idea.

It all depends on how you rub! I know some rather nice ways if you want.

I mentally smacked myself again. Anyhow, I had lost count a long time ago. This evening alone had already earned me an unimaginable amount of mental slaps. The Edward Cullen effect, no doubt.

Fortunately, the traffic was light at this late hour of the night and I quickly reached my small apartment. Exhausted, I dropped on my sofa bed without even bothering to unfold it. I took my shoes off with my feet and lay down full length.

It's roughly in this position that I woke up the next morning, all my muscles aching from having slept so stiffly.

ooo

The weekend came and went all too fast for my taste. Saturday morning was simply a huge blank considering that I had awakened stiffer then ever after one p.m. I devoted my afternoon doing research for my presentation. The rendering date was approaching quite rapidly, and so I spent the whole Sunday in a state of general panic, locked in my apartment, immersed in the reading of a huge book on the 'anthropology of communication.' This handbook had become my 'bible' of late, to my utter dismay, for that matter.

Consequently, I was already tired when I arrived at the Cullen Corps. Monday morning, a large mug of steaming Mocha in my hand, my hair pulled up into a loose ponytail, and my features looking drawn behind my sunglasses, which I kept glued to my nose for that very reason. A hangover wouldn't have caused more damage than an intensive day of research, taking notes and writing until four in the morning. A Bella with only three hours of sleep was really not a pretty sight to behold.

It all depends on what caused the lack of sleep, honey!

Suffice to say that I wasn't at all in the mood to suffer the 'attacks' of my dear boss, if there were going to be any.

I got into the elevator after grumbling a brisk hello to the guard in passing, pressed on the 60th floor button, and rest my head against the cool brushed aluminum wall of the lift cab that was empty for once. Finishing my night in this position, I let the floors pass by, pleading for a miracle in the shape of a perfectly mellow pillow while sentences such as 'cognitive and stylistic issues of hyper-textual organization' were still clashing in my brain clouded by the lack of sleep.

The characteristic 'ding' of the elevator indicated that my rise was over. I reluctantly left my makeshift pillow as I entered the lobby of the Cullen Corp. It was still early, which was a good thing for me as I was much too grumpy to talk, let alone to concatenate a litany of 'hellos' to each and every new person I met. I even snubbed the first person I came across without actually reckoning her.

Warm and friendly much, Little Miss, when her hours of sleep have been stolen!

As I unrestrainedly plopped down in my seat while reluctantly removing my sunglasses, an all too familiar silhouette passed in my field of vision. I immediately swallowed the grunt I was about to serve as a greeting and got ready to pounce at the first sign of animosity.

Today was definitely not the day for petty, arrogant and offensive sound bites, regardless of the instigator, and even more so if it was Edward Cullen.

I saw his eyes land on me. He stared intently at me with an unreadable expression on his face. I clenched my fists, waiting for the launch of the hostilities. Except they never came. He just gave me a nod, followed by a dull and tasteless "I hope you had a pleasant weekend, Miss Swan." Then he disappeared in the elevator, pulling behind him a suitcase on wheels of a prestigious luggage brand while uttering an indistinct "Have a nice day."

I remained speechless. What the heck? He'd got me used to everything… but that. And whereas I should have been happy to avoid a conflict, I was just dazed by this sudden lack of interest.

Ah, see? I was right when I said you loved it!

Love was quite a big word. I was far from being masochistic, loving his arrogant, demeaning and manipulative attitude, but now I was dumbfounded. He, who was extremely full of himself two days earlier, seemed like a completely different person today.

What's got into him?

I didn't have time to deepen my reflection, because for one thing, even though I was taken aback, I was still sleep deprived and on the verge of a nervous breakdown, an for another, the switchboard set off and the phone went berserk, driving me crazy.

Because you think you're sane, perhaps?

It's with great and undisguised joy that I welcomed Alice's arrival, synonym with my imminent departure and my long-awaited reunion with my pillow. Alice was beaming with happiness, a huge smile spread on her face. Apparently she'd had a much better weekend than I did.

She got laid! Not like some…

And mental slap number one! It had been a long time and I was itching. I'd held it off until 3 p.m. without a self slap. A record… Fatigue, probably.

"Bella! I spent a dreamy weekend. Jazz is the perfect man. He's so cute! And also… Ahhh, if you knew! He was so chivalrous, so considerate, so… everything!"

"I'm happy for you, Alice."

"We saw each other again on Saturday," she went on. "He invited me to a romantic little restaurant; everything was wonderful. I still see stars in my eyes. And afterwards, when we said goodbye, he kissed me. At last! It was FAN-TAS-TIC! Finally we went to my place and-"

"Stop! No details, please," I begged.

Little player! I was right nevertheless. She did get laid, yes she did!

I rolled my eyes. Alice took pity on me and stopped her monologue. Shortly after, I was finally released. Barely out of the building, I rushed into the first subway I passed and went home without further ado. And all I did once in my small apartment was to collapse full length on my still undone bed.

Tuesday was similar. I juggled between my work and catching up for my presentation. I had dreaded the return of Edward Cullen at the Cullen Corps, but he didn't show his face.

Wednesday was even worse. Jacob, claiming he hadn't seen me in a long while, forced me to go see a movie with him, and I accepted for fear of reprisals. This could have been nice if I didn't have to wrap up the damn representation for the next week.

I spent the Thursday, which was supposed to be my day off this week, between the library and my tiny apartment, working my ass off. My brain was now only working in 'communication management' mode and other crap around which I was hanging too closely these days. Suffice to say that I was on the verge of overdose.

So it's with an indescribable joy that I finalized the two hundred and some pages of my presentation on Friday night around 11 p.m. I still had four days ahead of me to wrap it up for good, but I was too eager to be done with it once and for all, so I made the most of my weekend to reach my goal.

After I thoroughly reread my work several times on Saturday, I reluctantly decided to return at the Cullen Corp. on late Sunday afternoon in order to print out and bind the eight copies that I needed. This way, I would at least save the cost of photocopying, a significant saving given the current state of my bank account.

After a nice relaxing shower, I put on a black sweater dress and my boots, and once I got my USB key, I grabbed my bag and my coat and promptly made it down to the subway.

The guard cast me a suspicious glance when he saw me pass the door of the large building on 1028 Water Street. One little white lie later – I was supposedly here to wrap up an urgent matter for the administration – I finally accessed the elevators.

The week is not enough, now you must come here on the weekend too. Pfff!

Finding myself here when the place was absolutely deserted was really strange. I put my stuff down, launched my pc, and started to get busy. I ought to tackle the task seriously if I didn't want to spend the whole evening here.

That would cap it all!

And frankly, I felt more like a relaxing evening in my bathtub, immersed in a warm foamy bath, rather than a lonely one spent with my dear friend the photocopier.

One hour later, with my iPod headphones screwed into my ears, I was shimmying to the beat of the music, waiting for the eighth and final copy to be printed at last.

Page 81 of 263… Page 82 of 263…

God, it was awfully long!

Taking this wait as an opportunity to relax a little, I started a choreography on the mesmerizing refrain of the tune playing in my ears. I whirled around myself while waving, singing and dancing… And it was so good! I had been tense for a week, but tonight I could finally release the pressure.

I grabbed the last stack of sheets completely out of the photocopier's depth and began to perforate them, one bundle of sheets after the other until the last one before binding everything together.

At last it was over.

I released the last onrush of pressure by singing at the top of my lung a song by Jace Everett that my iPod shuffle had selected.

"I wanna do bad things with you," I chanted.

I jiggled a little more while putting the last bound copy in my bag.

"I wanna do bad things with y…"

The elevator doors closed, revealing to my sight an apparition that turned me into a mute.

"… you," I finished in a sound that was more like a mix between a meow and a squeaking than a human voice, while immediately lowering my index finger, which was coincidentally pointing toward the apparition.

Hmmm, yes, I, too, want to do "bad things" with him!

The last time I'd seen him, it was on that memorable Monday morning when he had almost ignored me. He had disappeared ever since. It was my understanding that he was on leave of absence according to Rosalie Hale, his lovely assistant.

You mean to say frigid, stuck-up, and unfriendly, right?

What surprised me most was his appearance. Far away from the businessman I used to know, who was always perfectly dressed in his upscale suit. But even in a simple jeans and white shirt, he was divinely beautiful. His hair, even more disheveled than usual, brought a wild touch that enhanced him all. Yet the strangest thing was not his physical appearance but rather the drawn and sad features of his face. I had never seen him so helpless, for that's what it was; he seemed lost and totally helpless.

I hastily removed my headphones.

"Nice choreography," he said in a dull voice devoid of any humorous note, offering me a thin smile, one that was not even remotely resembling his trademark crooked smile which had a knack for flying me off the handle.

No Isabella? Or Miss Swan? How strange…

With these words, he went on his way toward his office, walking along the hall in front of me.

"I… uh… I've just… uh… I gather my things and… uh… I'm leaving in five minutes," I stammered.

"Stay as long as you want," he whispered before vanishing from view.

I was speechless again.

Okay. He's really not in his normal state.

I stepped into the hall and saw him skirt the long line of empty tables and rush into his office, looking despondent. Intrigued, I nonetheless returned to my business and quickly gathered my stuff. I checked the final rendering of my intensive labor of the past few days one last time, and twenty minutes later I was ready to leave. My bag over my shoulder, some of the eight copies of my presentation inside and some of them in my arms, I took one last glance at the large office at the end of the vast open space. If I hadn't seen him entering it, I would have sworn this room was still empty.

No noise, no movement. The place was eerily silent.

I shrugged, powerless in regard to the situation, and I pressed the button to call the elevator. It was none of my business. After all, I was nothing more than the little receptionist he once had screwed against a sink in a luxury restroom, and whom he was having fun tormenting ever since. Why would I be concerned about him?

The 'ding' of the elevator pulled me out of my thoughts, and as I was going to get inside, a deliveryman exited it, holding a paper bag displaying the logo of one of the finest Japanese restaurants in New York.

"Good evening. I have a delivery for Mr. Cullen."

"Uh, yeah. He's in his office," I informed him, indicating the direction with a nod.

"Could you bring him this?"

He moved the bag in front of my eyes, giving me a pleading look.

"I'm overwhelmed right now and it would save me valuable time."

"Uh… Well… Uh… Okay."

The deliveryman didn't waste any time hastily shoving the prominent bag in my already loaded arms.

"Thank you, Miss. Have a nice evening," he said before vanishing.

Great! Now I have to bring him his meal…

I turned around, and one deep breath later, I walked decidedly toward his office. After all, there was nothing to be afraid of, right? All I had to do was get in, put the bag down, and get out again. I quickly crossed the distance that separated me from the room housing him, determined to get over with this as quick as possible.

What I saw upon my arrival in front of the wide open door stopped me in my tracks. The artificial and colorful lights of the cityscape behind him were reflecting on his thoughtful face. He was leaning over a silver object he held in his hand. One of his fingers was mechanically drawing each line of what appeared to be an engraving. Too far away, I could unfortunately not decipher what it represented. However, I could easily distinguish, by his attitude toward this object, that it seemed important to him.

I remained still for a long time, watching him silently play with the silver rectangle. He looked so vulnerable at this moment. Yes, that was it; he was more vulnerable than ever. The cold, arrogant, pretentious and manipulative man was currently replaced by a fragile and tormented human being.

The sudden feeling of violating an intimate moment not intended for me made me put an end to my quiet and indiscreet observation. I cleared my throat slightly to indicate my entry while slowly stepping forward to his desk. He straightened up swiftly, realizing my presence in the room. His green eyes made contact with mine, and the sadness I saw in them made me even more ill at ease than I already was.

"This was… uh… delivered for you."

I hurried to put the bag in front of him.

"Thank you."

Nice and polite? This time there's no doubt, he fell on his head!

"Okay. Uh… good evening then," I stammered as I turned toward the exit.

"Isabella?"

I froze midway between him and the door and I turned. He offered me a pale tortured smile, which, despite what he wanted to convey, didn't reach his eyes.

"I thought that perhaps…" he hesitated, "perhaps you'd like to share this meal with me?"

Thank you, dear readers, for all your kind reviews.

Thank you Lizzard43, for being there for me.

Until next time

Milk