Reaching Backward

Chapter 1

Time

Bella's POV

"Bella, it's time to get up," Edward cooed, rocking me softly. I parted my eyes and slowly sat up. The light of a new day filtered through our sheer, cream colored curtains and into our bedroom. I wanted to thump back down on my pillows and continue my sleep, but I had to work today.

My editing job at a well-known publishing company kept me busy day after day. Reading stories and making corrections brought with it all types of ideas and descriptions. From morbid horror novels to well-written mysteries to lazily thrown together romances, I always had a new story to share with Edward at the dinner table. Truly, I enjoyed my job, but the habitual routine of having to wake up was a monotonous activity that no person enjoyed.

Hypnotically I glanced at the bedside alarm clock, 7:55am. Oh, I slept longer than normal. It wasn't uncommon for me to run out the snooze alarm, but I could usually pull myself out of bed before Edward had to get involved.

I turned my lethargic eyes on him, willing myself to awaken. Encouraging the sunlight's reflection on the light blue walls to energize me, but instead I squinted at the seemingly impossible task.

"Do you want me to call you in sick?" He suggested with a smug grin. Always too eager to get me out of work. Proposing we take vacations as often as we could and joking that 25 was old enough to retire.

We had spent a year traveling the world 4 years ago, before settling down in Golden, Colorado. And since then, we had certainly had our fair share of extended holidays, family vacations and spontaneous trips. Sure, we didn't need the money, but the jealous looks I got at work were on the borderline of malicious.

"No, no," I responded, flinging the covers off myself. "I'm getting up." I dragged my feet into the bathroom. I splashed water on my face, a sure way to activate my mind. Toweling off I eyed my reflection, the subtle sign of laugh lines and crow's feet were starting to appear.

It had been over 10 years since we had gotten married in the little town of Forks. I had remained human due to Edward's effective persuasion of college, travel and the experience of a career as well as his stubborn ability to not give in during our fights.

We had fought a lot over this issue. I still wanted to be a vampire, to spend eternity with him, and although he had agreed to change me at one time, his plotting to run out the clock continued. So, as we stood in an impasse, time kept moving. Now, I was only 6 months away from my 30th birthday.

The reality of that fact felt numb.

I remembered the agony of turning 19. The year I surpassed Edward. The helpless feeling, like watching a train you were supposed to be on, pull out of the station. And every year after that I relived the same defeat, but somehow I coped. Time wasn't my enemy, but I was powerless to it.

With each passing year my flame flickered less and less but it was still strong enough to ignite fights neither of us would forget.

We had been in our first year at Dartmouth during one such fight. It was one night in early March; the table had been set for one with our cream chic tableware that Alice had gifted us.

Edward occupied the seat across from me, a cookbook opened in front of him. Cooking for me had quickly become one of Edward's favorite roles in our marriage. From the first days of our honeymoon, he took up the task of managing my diet and satisfying my stomach's hunger. My other hunger was a different story.

His fingers turned the pages lazily. "Maybe I'll take a cooking class next semester," he considered out loud.

I huffed a chuckle. His voice drifted softly as he casually asked, "Have you decided which classes you're going to take?"

"I was thinking about joining the soccer team actually," our eyes met, grinning at my joke.

"You know, we have to take Biology again as a general credit. That might be fun to do together." I didn't respond to his awaiting smile this time. Disappointment setting in.

"Are you being serious?" We had made a deal on our honeymoon. I would give him six months, in return, he agreed to maintain a sexually active marriage. He continued to compromise his side of the deal while I fulfilled mine. Now he was expecting me to give him more?

"I thought you were excited about taking that Shakespeare class," he spoke matter-of-factly.

I paused, my fork of lasagna hanging in mid-air, I set it down. It was true. I had mentioned more than once my interest in the Shakespeare courses, which I would be eligible for after this semester. As a general credit, the English classes I had been taking were very trivial and dole.

"It does interest me," I spoke slowly, "But I don't think Shakespeare is going anywhere. After this semester is over, I want you to change me as we had planned."

Irritation lingered on the fringes. Was he attempting to push the deadline again?

"Honestly, I'm kind of hurt that you're bringing this up. I've given you more than six months without complaint and you haven't really been fulfilling your side of the deal." I stuck my bottom lip out in a comedic pout, trying to lighten the serious complaint.

"What do you mean?" His eyes challenged, "Are you saying you don't like my touch?"

"Of course not," I blurted, cheeks blushing, "You know I love what you do to me." He had become adequately skilled in touching me over the last six months. His fingers had explored my crevasses and pressure points and lips having tasted my inner folds, but I wasn't allowed to return the favor.

"You never let me touch you," I explained, exasperated. All of our activities were strictly focused on me. He always kept my hands out of reach of his goods, adjusting our position when my hips pressed into his and only letting me see when we showered or were at a safe distance. All of which he did under the excuse that he couldn't control himself if I touched him.

"Bella," he distressed, "You know I don't need that. I'm happy just being with you."

"Ugh" I rolled my eyes. He acted like I only wanted to touch him for his benefit. I felt like a sexual deviant. Why couldn't he understand that I wanted to do it because I wanted to do it.

"It doesn't matter," I declared, "I want to be changed after this semester." My irritated tone held a note of finality.

I turned my gaze back to my food, glaring at it instead of Edward. I didn't want to have this conversation, but worse, I didn't want to be mad at him. He had always been trying to delay my inevitable change, and with my passing 19th birthday and our wedding it seemed that he had been winning. But it was time for me to win, I would stand my ground.

"Okay love," He said sweetly. Flashing a smile and returning to the cookbook.

There was silence, our conversation seeming to be over. Fuming, I picked up my fork again. His 'okay' didn't seem convincing.

His next words cut through the air, "Are you sure?"

I stopped chewing, my features falling as I felt my remaining patience drain out of me. I glared at him. Why did he have to make this so hard? Without moving his body, his eyes turned towards me to watch my reaction. The clock's hands ticked on the wall.

His voice echoed through our little dining room. "I only ask because the higher-level classes will fill up quickly."

My lasagna, having lost all its flavor in the conversation, felt like mush in my mouth. I chewed it in disbelief and swallowed.

Edward continued, "We can sign up for them now and drop them later. No big deal"

"No Edward," I snapped.

"You might change your mind. It could be a few decades before you can control yourself enough to go to class. Are you sure you want to wait that long?"

"I said no!" I bellowed, smacking my hand on the table and standing up.

"Why do you keep fighting me on this!" Angry tears formed in the corners of my eyes.

He flashed to my side, wrapping me in a hug. Cooing, "Shh Bella, it's okay. I'm not fighting you. If that's what you want then I'll change you as soon as the semester ends."

"I don't believe you," I musted. "I agreed to six months, which I've met, not a semester. I want you to change me tonight."

He pulled his head back, moved his fingers under my chin, and lifted my eyes to stare into his marble ones. A soft, sexy smirk on his lips. His feather light fingertips tickled as they traced down my neck, following the veins.

My breathing deepened. "Go ahead," I commanded, "Bite me. I don't want to wait anymore."

He leaned down over me, tilting his head to access my neck.

"Say please," His arousing voice purred. My heart picked up the beat.

Slowly his lips came closer, until he flicked out his tongue. Like ice melting against my skin, it left a pleasurable burn as he licked from my collarbone to my ear. Choosing a spot here and there to kiss and suck on.

My blood pumped faster, flowing into the muscles between my legs. One of his hands squeezed my thigh, the other gripped my waist. Both advancing towards more tender spots. His actions were intoxicating. His body was always my weakness.

"Edward," I panted, fighting my body's response to embrace him.

"Don't tease me. Bite me." I demanded with flushed skin.

His only response was to cover my mouth with his. His hand works itself to my breast. Kneading the soft skin and lightly pinching the nipple. I moaned.

He was still fighting. Using his strongest weapon. My arousal.

"Stop," my arms pushed against his chest, forcing him away. "I know what you're doing."

I folded my arms, the anger and determination returning.

"Are you going to change me or not!" I growled.

He said nothing. His gaze on the ground.

I glared at my abandoned plate of lasagna, rage spreading over me from his rejection.

"Fine." I picked up the dish and chucked it at him. The red sauce splattering and leaving dots around the dining room. I stormed off, locking the bedroom behind me.

Immediately I flung open my laptop. My fingers punching the keys angrily. If he wanted me to sign up for classes then fine, I would.

Narrative and Narrative Theory, check. Shakespeare before 1600, check. History of the English Language, check. Biology. . . there was only one spot left.

I glanced up at the locked door, where my love was surely behind. Guilty, for a moment, at the thought of taking this class without him. His words echoed through my mind, 'We can always drop them later.' I clenched my teeth and narrowed my eyes.

Biology, check.

The fights in those first few years had been the worst, but somewhere along the way our time became less important, and getting to work on time became enough to deal with.

I entered the kitchen to the tangy smell of sautéed squash and zucchini accompanying my breakfast of eggs and rice.

Over the last two weeks, Edward had started working more vegetables into my dishes. I wondered briefly what number I would see if I were to step on the scale. Yet, I didn't have time to engage the thought, I was running late for work.

After a shower, some make-up and a kiss goodbye, I was out the door.

My office was on the seventh floor of a modest Denver building. The editor's desks were spread out around the open floor plan, offering open communication and privacy at the same time. Various posters and notices hung on the wall. Some desks had plants, pictures or personal items.

I sat down at mine, which held an overflowing pencil holder, a purple paper crane, an Arizona cactus and a growing pile of paper that needed to be pushed through. I started on those first.

"Are you ready for the meeting tomorrow?" Terry, a nice middle-aged man who liked playing mini-golf with his family, asked, interrupting my focus on a medieval story. His voice mixed with the clicking of keyboards, a phone ringing out of sight.

"Tomorrow?" My voice rose. Was our monthly meeting already upon us? I glanced at the Hello Kitty calendar on the wall. The friendly cat alway marked the advancement of time. "Wow, time flies fast."

"Yeah," Terry chuckled, "I have to give a presentation on semi-colon use." His lack of enthusiasm shined through the short summary of his 'research,' as he explained it. I listened politely, forcing my anxious thoughts to the back of my mind.

"Well good luck," I told him, "I probably need to finish a few things before then too." I smiled and he walked away.

I looked back at the calendar. Was it really the 15th already? My body tensed, my breathing slowed, I wondered.

Slowly I peered over my right shoulder to the desk across the room. Derek was on the phone with a client, but his eyes glanced up, meeting mine. He smiled.

I turned back around, shaking my head and remembering a time last week.

Again, I looked at the calendar and counted.

If you liked this story and want me to continue then please refer me a Beta. I have various chapters written but need a little help putting them together.