Serendipitous.
If you asked Edward Cullen to describe his first encounter with Isabella Swan with just one word, that would be the word he would use.
The night was buzzing, New Year's Eve in New York City always brought an atmosphere of chaos and life. Residents and tourists flying through the streets, their coats tightly bound around them and their noses bright red and eyes bright. It had been years since he had spent a New Year's Eve in the city, preferring the atmosphere of snowy Vail or the warm sand of St Barths.
But this year had ended a little differently for Edward.
It was his first holiday season as a newfound bachelor.
His divorce from Tanya was officially finalized and his awkward conversation with his now ex-girlfriend Lauren over and done with before their booked vacation.
He had told Lauren to keep the first class tickets to the Caribbean, that maybe she could take a friend or a new partner if she wished. Her response of throwing a martini at him had been anything but pleasant, nor were her parting words, but Edward had not let it phase him.
Lauren could tan away at Cheval Blanc and he could try and enjoy seeing familiar faces at Rosalie and Emmett's housewarming party.
Or so he thought.
The party had been dreadful so far, filled with Rosalie's snobby socialite friends and desperate social climbers who spent most of the evening gossiping about each other and flaunting their latest expense.
Emmett had been the one to insist he came, he is sure Rosalie would not have minded at all if he had not joined them for this evening- her disdain for her husband's best friend was hardly a secret. It was a mutual feeling, Edward never quite understanding what Emmett could see in Rose. Still, Emmett was important enough to both of them to warrant putting their feelings aside. And he was the one who dangled the carrot of all the single, pretty women he would meet tonight.
He should've known better, that for as big of a city as New York, their social circle was incredibly small with hardly ever new faces.
And so he spent his night avoiding Gianna's wandering hands - she had been a mistake hook up during his divorce and before Lauren - and the endless questions about his relationship status. He drank copious amounts of whiskey hoping to feel drunk enough to forget the evening.
As cold as the night was, he welcomed the excuse of having to go out on the street to smoke a cigarette (Rosalie did not allow smoking on their balcony). It was nice to be by himself for a few minutes.
His umpteenth cigarette of the night finished, he made his way back to the building foyer with a little to spare until midnight. He could not wait for the clock to welcome them into the New Year so he could finally leave this party.
Well, until she happened.
She had stumbled into the lift as the doors were almost closed. 'Wait!' she had shouted, her body pushing its way in before she all but fell on him.
The doors closed.
The lift started moving.
He had briefly looked at her, her dark brown hair almost like a curtain around her face, a big white fluffy jacket that made her look like a marshmallow and a bottle of Champagne nestled under her arm. It was something very commercial, a Veuve perhaps, and that indicated to Edward she must not reside in the building. He had said hello, because that was the polite thing to do, and she had given him an awkward smile in return. Her eyes looked incredibly sad, her face sullen, she looked absolutely miserable.
Neither one of them thought at that moment that their brief greeting would be much more than that.
And then the lift jolted.
And then it stopped moving.
And so they looked at each other again.
Had it not been for the sense of dread running through both of them, they may have paid more attention to the spark felt the tips of their fingers grazing over the buttons of the lift. They pressed, called, shouted, but no one seemed to be there. So much for the exorbitant body corporate fees Em was paying.
"I think we will be here a while." He announced defeat, turning to look at the young woman.
What could be worse than being stuck in a lift on New Year's Eve?
"Perfect, just perfect." He heard his lift companion mutter before tears started rolling down her face.
Oh dear, Edward thought to himself, stuck in a lift with a crying stranger makes it even worse.
"Are you claustrophobic?" He asked, concerned. One time, he had gotten stuck with a claustrophobic intern in his office elevator who proceeded to projectile vomit all over his Brioni suit. It was probably the worst 5 minutes of Edward's life- and he had no intention of reliving it.
"No, I'm just having the worst fucking night ever." She responded in a huff, before sliding down to sit on the ground.
She had an accent, Australian he guessed, and a bit of an attitude, which he liked. He joined her on the floor of the lift, his long legs beside her much shorter ones.
"Join the club. I'm Edward, by the way." He introduced himself, his hand extending out to her. "What brings you here tonight?"
"Isabella." She took his hand hesitantly before shaking it.
Isa-bella. He liked her name. He didn't know any other Isabellas.
Isabella had gone on to tell him she was there to meet a friend from school who invited her to a house party. In fact, the same party Edward had been making his way back to. Isabella's friend, he discovered, was friends with little Alice Brandon- Emmett's much younger half-sister. Her and Bella met at Parsons.
At the mention of school, Isabella's tears started again.
"I'm sorry, I am being such a sook, but this has just been the worst week ever." She sobbed in her hands, while Edward retrieved the cotton handkerchief hidden away in his pocket. Something his mother always insisted he carry with him. "My boyfriend broke up with me, I don't have a job, my visa is about to expire and my apartment has flooded."
"Okay, let's open that champagne you have there…"
After reassuring Isabella that Rosalie would not be offended if she showed up sans gift, Edward popped the champagne open before offering her the first swig. As anticipated, it tasted like lukewarm cat piss, but anything would at this stage. Especially if he needed to listen to her vent.
He listened to her talk about her life and recent misfortunes.
She had a pretty face, both soft and angular if that was even possible, like pillowy lips but a sharp jaw, warm round brown eyes and high cheekbones.
She had a nose. It wasn't huge, but it wasn't a tiny little nose either. It had a bit of character, it stood out but also looked right at home on her face.
She had amazing hair. It was long, thick and shiny. It bounced around as she spoke animatedly next to him.
She was really beautiful, he had decided.
Not just in a conventional, pretty girl standard. She was interesting, she was different, she was perfectly imperfect.
She was probably much too young for him, being a friend of Alice's and all. But he couldn't deny that he was quite content all of a sudden to be stuck in a lift with this gorgeous brunette instead of listening to Mike Newton blabber about his latest Tribeca listing.
"Well, this Jacob guy sounds like a loser. You're young and gorgeous- someone will sweep you off your feet before you know it." Edward reassured her after she expressed her sadness at being dumped just before New Year's from her boyfriend Jacob.
"Thanks." She responded, her cheeks flushing at the compliment from the handsome stranger sitting next to her. "Gosh, this music sucks, I feel like I've been on hold with Telstra."
"Ennio Morricone." Edward said, before clarifying as she looked at him confused. "He is an Italian composer, incredibly talented orchestrator. He wrote the theme to "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly." He proceeded to hum a tune, his fingers drumming the beat on her arm.
Their eyes locked.
"Never heard of him. Are you a musician or something?" Isabella asked him, her attention finally on her elevator companion. The champagne combined with the bottle of cheap wine she had back home started to make her feel tipsy, and Edward's piercing green eyes and sharp jaw and tapping fingers had her feeling a little flushed all of a sudden.
"Not quite, but I did study piano for a long time. I wanted to be a jingle writer, but my parents thought I would end up starving for the rest of my life." His fingers had halted their movements on her arm, it suddenly dawned on him he should have probably kept a more respectful distance. Still, his fingers missed the feeling of her soft skin almost instantly.
"So what do you do with yourself then?"
"I'm in advertising- so, sometimes, I do get to pick out a jingle." He explained, before adding a little "Tan-tan" meant to replicate a jingle. "What about you? What are you studying?"
"History of design- I want to be a fashion curator for a museum one day." Edward noted the way her eyes perked up and her skin turned rosier at the mention of her career goals. He found it surprising, having met many people in his lifetime and not once having heard someone mention wanting to work in a museum. "I've always been a bit of a hoarder."
"Oh well, you would love my mother then." He said jokingly, before turning to look at her with a cheeky smile that made Isabella's stomach flutter just a little. "So you like old things?" He asked, lifting her hand, noticing the vintage diamond ring on her finger.
"Something like that…" She responded, her smile coy and her eyes fluttering. "Imagine the stories this ring could tell…the parties it has seen, the gossip it has heard…"
Perhaps it was the champagne they had drunk much too fast, or the randomness of being in an enclosed space with a complete stranger as midnight was about to strike, but Edward felt this magnetic pull towards Isabella. Her hand remained in his hold this time, neither feeling ready to break their touch.
Their eyes had met, her warm brown looking into his sharp green. They had lingered on each other. They had closed the gap between each other a little.
"It's almost midnight." Edward said, his eyes briefly looking at the timepiece on his wrist.
"It is too." Isabella responded, her eyes still fixated on his face.
Edward wondered what would happen if he leaned in for a kiss, eager to feel her soft, pillowy lips against his. He had been thinking about it for the majority of the time she had been speaking to him. But, the girl had been crying up until a second ago- would she really be interested in a kiss from a stranger in a lift?
Trovajoli's "L'amore dice Ciao" serenaded them, its distinctive notes obsessively on repeat, a bit like Edward's thoughts of kissing Isabella. The melody made him want to slow dance with her under a starry sky. He could picture himself playing this for her on his piano after a night of passion. Its daydream like sequence befitting of a romantic chance encounter.
And so Edward leaned closer, and so did Isabella, as the soft "ooh oohs" of Andee Silver guided them closer and closer to their lips touching.
And so they did.
A soft kiss, the taste of champagne, their cold hands coming up to touch each other's cheeks.
At that moment, Edward wished he could stay in that lift with her forever.
It was serendipitous indeed.