THE FIFTH TIME

Bella's List of Ground Rules for Being Friends with Edward Cullen

1. No pet names. This includes "sweet Bella."

2. No stalking. This includes, but is not limited to: coming into my apartment without my explicit permission; showing up outside of the library where I'm studying to take me to dinner; enrolling in classes I'm taking halfway through the semester by throwing your money around or whatever the fuck got you into Rick's class in March.

3. No gifts. Maybe dinner. If I want to yell at you.

4. No "human experiences." I'm a human. I have a plethora of - nay, a myriad of experiences.

5. No smoldering nor dazzling.

My draft is hastily written on the back of a receipt for al pastor tacos from the Mexican place across from central campus. I think for a while about rewriting it or typing it up, but then I decide that Edward Cullen has had enough of my time and energy this week already, and it's only Thursday. I crumple it up and shove it in my sweatshirt pocket as I head to Shakespeare.

It's my turn to pick up coffees for Aaron and me, and I stop to get two iced coffees, carrying them carefully to class. I trip once, but I don't drop them by some miracle. I beat Aaron and Rick and Edward to the lecture hall, surprisingly, so I head in and sit in our - meaning Aaron and my - usual seats. I spread my stuff out a bit so it looks like I don't have space next to me.

It's a foolish thing to do, because obviously Edward knows I only have one friend in this class, and obviously, he comes in to sit next to me.

"Is this iced coffee for me?" He jokes. He's wearing a jean colored button up rolled up so his forearms are on display again and black jeans that accentuate all the right places and I die a little inside, but I don't let him see.

"Hah, hah," I say under my breath and add a roll of the eyes for good measure. I pull out my crumpled up Receipt o' Rules and hand it to him.

Just as he starts reading, Aaron walks in, which feels like God is smiling down at me for a second time today. I wave him over and he mumbles hi to Edward and gives me The Look. You know The Look: it's the one that says Should Your Ex Be Sitting With Us? I Know He's in Our Group, But Still. He even knows to give it when Edward's not looking, but, of course, Edward can read fucking minds, so… it's a crapshoot. I can already see he's smiling wryly while pretending that he hasn't noticed.

"Shit," I mutter and yank the receipt from his hands as Aaron sits down and sips his iced coffee. I scrawl number six.

6. No stalking me through people's minds.

He watches me write it and raises one eyebrow. I give him The Look 2.0. This one says Don't Fucking Test Me, Mister and he nods morosely. At least he's taking me seriously.

Aaron leans over and whispers in my ear, "What the fuck are you doing?"

I consider what I want to say because I know Edward will hear no matter how quietly I say it. I decide to go with the truth: "I made a list of rules for him to follow if he wants to be friends with me." I whisper back for added effect.

Aaron bursts out laughing to my right. Edward is trying to look confused and dejected to my left, but I can see that his lips are twitching in amusement. I slump forward a bit and let my hair fall down around me just as Rick starts class. That man has great timing. A third miracle today, truly.

Today, Rick's lecture is on Romeo and Juliet and I'm instantly transported back to senior year English. I can almost hear Edward reciting Romeo's lines in my ear - feel his cool breath tickling against my skin - as Rick prattles on about fate in Shakespeare's tragedies.

Edward's hand lifts. I look over at him like he's lost his mind. He winks at me.

"Yes, Mr. Cullen?" Rick asks.

"I'd like to make the argument that Shakespeare is defining love as a struggle for freedom in the drama."

Rick looks interested. "Continue."

Edward straightens in his seat; I start a staring contest with my notes.

"My interpretation of the drama has shifted as of late," I can just tell his eyes slide to me, but I'm resolutely Not Looking. "Both Romeo and Juliet struggle with the ways in which social reality and the desires of the individual juxtapose - the hatred existing between their families are obvious stumbling blocks to their love. However, they also struggle against nature, morality, and civic norms. I'm arguing that they are able to overcome all of this through their love and, ultimately, reject all of the above through their death, which is the ultimate culmination of their love."

Oh, I know this is a message to me. I can't tell if the death he's speaking of is literal death though - is he saying he'd change me if I wanted it still? - or if it's referencing the death of our relationship. Maybe both.

Either way, it's a confession of love. He sees love with me as a struggle for his freedom. From his identity, his supposed monstrosity. That means the decision he made to return to me is his way of accepting that he cannot be truly free until we are together. It means he's felt imprisoned the last four years. It means… a lot. Which is unfortunate. I thought I did more to move on from senior year, but I realize suddenly that I haven't.

My cheeks are burning and my hand is already up in the air. I wait politely for Rick to call on me to respond. It's pretty rare for people to argue with each other in a Shakespeare class since most people are intimidated by Early Modern English, so he seems excited.

I clear my throat when he calls on me. "I think it's important for us to consider how Shakespeare defines love in this play. In particular, Romeo defines love through beauty - he refers to Juliet as a swan amongst crows and a shrine to be worshiped, which is incredibly objectifying. Friar Lawrence cautions against Romeo's definition of love when he says, "young men's love then lies / not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes."" I turn to Edward; his eyes are bright. "This negates your argument, as Romeo and Juliet aren't even truly in love per Verona's definition, let alone our modern interpretation."

My response has been hastily crafted, but it tells Edward that he put me on a pedestal when we were together. That he thought of me as something to keep safe. Something to worship. I was the angel to his demon. I'm trying to tell him it was wrong. It wasn't what love should be.

Edward's hand is up before I can finish. Rick chuckles and gestures to him. "I'm going to politely disagree with that interpretation. When Romeo and Juliet first meet, Shakespeare writes them as speaking in a shared sonnet, which is symbolic of their fated love. There is no higher definition of love to Shakespeare than a sonnet." He raises one eyebrow at me as if to say he knows he just won the argument.

He hasn't, but his meaning comes out loud and clear. He's saying what we had was true love.

Rick chuckles and invites the rest of the class to respond. He ignores my raised hand, which is probably good, because at this point, I don't really have much of an argument. I'm just raising my hand in protest, really.

I slump in my seat and prepare some nasty side eye. Edward is smirking, staring down at his notes. I have the urge to check him with my elbow, but I know that'll probably hurt me more than it's worth.

~~~~

I say goodbye to Aaron at the door.

"Can I walk you to your next class?" Edward asks politely. No smoldering.

"What was that in there?" I ask without answering his question. He follows.

He looks at me in mock confusion. "What was what?"

"Don't be cute with me." I warn.

"You think I'm cute?" His smile turns smug.

I snarl. It's unimpressive as far as snarls go, me being human and all. "What. Was. That."

"I merely wanted to convey a shift in my interpretation of the play."

I look at him so quickly that my hair whips over my shoulder. "So, you're, what, a believer in love as a transformative action?" I place enough emphasis on transformative that it's clear I'm talking about us. About me becoming a vampire.

He looks at me meaningfully as we stop at the bottom of the steps to the science building. His eyes are warm and his full lips are pulled in a soft smile. "Yes," he says simply.

He's still not smoldering or dazzling per the ground rules I've established, but I stare at him for a long time anyway, memorizing this moment, his open facial expression, the feel of the almost spring breeze on my face.

And I walk up the stairs and through the doors in a daze.

I might be smiling just a little. Still, I hope he doesn't see.

As someone with a degree in English Literature, I had way too much fun writing their argument.