Edward’s Point of View

She had said she was going, and she had turned her money in, and Rosalie had said she was on the list, but it wasn’t until I saw her shifting impatiently from one foot to the other inside the airport terminal Friday morning that I really trusted it. For all I knew, it was a big scheme just to get people to leave her alone about it; I hadn’t missed the frustration in her voice when I’d approached her in the hall, or the annoyance in her sigh when she’d finally agreed to go. Her frustration seemed a small price to pay, though, for the greater good.

“See?” Rosalie huffed, rolling her eyes. “I told you she’d come.”

“Oh, she’ll come all right . . .” I turned my attention to James and rolled my eyes. He had always been unnecessarily crude, and his comments concerning Bella had only grown worse once my . . . thing had become apparent.

Thing? I was at a loss myself what to call it, but Lauren Mallory had apparently called it a “thing,” and I suppose I preferred that to “crush” or “fixation” –or “hallucination,” as James insisted. He liked to point out that Bella had only ever talked to me when she was smashed off her ass, whereas she had been accepting drinks and chatting with him from the moment she met him. As much as I would have liked to knock the shit-eating grin off his face, he made a depressing point.

Jasper motioned to me across the lobby to join him, Alice, and Bella, but I pretended not to see, instead checking in for the flight with Emmett, Rosalie, and James. It was beyond me why the school thought they would make good chaperones, but I couldn’t say I didn’t appreciate it now. Otherwise I would have had no choice but to hang awkwardly at the fringe, trying to look like I wasn’t staring. From here, I could subtly watch as Bella slid her passport to the attendant and shoved her bag onto the scale. Alice waited for her and Jasper cast me one more look, but I waved him on. I felt bad that he felt he had to choose between Alice and me, but for the time being that was just how things had to be. No hard feelings; it wasn’t his fault.

The time being . . . what was I expecting to change? Who knew what I was thinking anymore. It wasn’t like I had any designs on Bella Swan. I wasn’t even sure what I had meant by tossing the note to her in class – perhaps I was hoping Walrus would snatch it up again and read that in front of the class, let the student body mull over Lauren Mallory’s hopeless plan to seduce me, let her get some heat of embarrassment. Poor Bella. I could feel that way towards her now, sympathetic of the mortification she must have felt to have such personal notes read to the entire class, whether the content was true or not. Now I was angry at Washmond for treating her so cruelly. Anyone else’s personal gossip I would have just rolled my eyes at, but Bella clearly took things so much harder than most people. She didn’t deserve to have her personal thoughts and feelings blasted on the loudspeaker to everyone.

But those feelings had come later, like I said. At the time I had simply been pissed at Bella.

“Why do we have to take our fucking shoes off?” Emmett mumbled, tossing his sneakers onto the security belt. Rosalie and I both recoiled from the stench and I thought that perhaps, if there was a god, TSA would consider his shoes a biological weapon and shred them. No such luck, and in a few minutes I was crouched beside him, retying my own sneakers and holding my iPod in my mouth.

For the hour before our flight started boarding, it looked like a shitty teen movie had exploded in Forks Municipal Airport. I pitied the employees of Seattle’s Best and McDonald’s as a constant line of hungry and thirsty teenagers kept them running circles. I sipped coffee with the rest of my group, my legs stretched out as I slouched in the waiting area, picking distractedly at the exposed foam of my chair. Rosalie was a skier and Emmett was a boarder and the two were arguing which was more difficult. Emmett said boarding because you had to maneuver with your body balanced on one leg, while Rosalie insisted having to manage two independent legs was what made skiing harder. James pointed out skiers used crutches and Rosalie had flipped a minor shit at him. She didn’t like being outnumbered in fights, but I was Switzerland, being a fan of both skiing and snowboarding, perhaps the only sports I had any ability in. Once upon a time I had played baseball, but it had been a couple years . . .

Bella was sitting within my line of vision, her legs tucked beneath her as she laughed at something Jessica was saying. It always confused me when she interacted with Jessica or Lauren. They didn’t seem to be friends, and yet they hung out together, ate lunch together every day. She always seemed so annoyed by them, frequently narrowing her eyes or clenching her jaw at something they sad. Yet she passed notes with Jessica in history like little junior high girls, and they had even all shown up together to the Halloween party. But then, I sure didn’t claim to be any sort of expert on teenage girl relationships. If fact, teenage relationships in general baffled me; in some ways, I felt like I’d skipped the teenage years and gone straight from being a genius little boy to a respectable adult man. Mom had laughed when I’d said it once, laughed at me like I was a little kid using a word they didn’t understand, and then asked if that meant I could start doing my own laundry all the time.

I’d decided I could call myself a teenager a bit longer.

For now, it seemed like Bella and Jessica were getting along, and Bella even grinned at Lauren when she leaned around and offered her a piece of gum. Lauren Mallory, whom I had to blame for my current state of confusion. Her hair was in a long braid, her features sharper than usual in the harsh fluorescent airport lighting. Everything in my world had been in perfect working order until she had sat beside me in English one day, in a desk typically left empty. She and I didn’t talk because I found her insufferably shallow and incapable of rational thought. She reminded me of one of those cockatiel birds that spend their days preening their plume and flying over your head when you want to put them back in their cage, raining down feathers, crap, and memorized insults. Pretty, but better left locked up with a mirror and a bowl of sunflower seeds.

Fortunately, she hadn’t remained sitting beside me long. Only long enough to lean in and ask, “So, Edward.” I hated the way she purred my name. “What do you think of my new friend Bella? It seems she has a bit of a thing for you . . .”

This news at the time meant nothing. I wasn’t stupid; I knew a vast majority of the girls at school had spent at least a few hours imagining themselves utilizing the backseat of my Volvo. So telling me that the new girl had a thing for me was like tossing a birthday candle into the glowing fireplace; who gave a shit? For that reason alone, I made no effort to reach out to the new girl because teenage girl crushes are inevitably ridiculous and blown way out of proportion. I was eternally grateful, though I would never admit such a thing, that Rosalie had latched onto Emmett only a few days after they entered high school and that their relationship was as weird as they were, because it meant I never had to listen to her go on about a boy the way I knew girls did. Doodling their name, sighing, dancing around in their underwear to Kelly Clarkson and eyeing the phone, just waiting for him to call regardless of whether he actually had her number or not. Apparently, once a girl gets a crush on you, you’re suddenly embodied with limitless abilities, which include but are not limited to: knowing her number, offering an unending stream of compliments and witty comments, unlimited financial resources, the seductiveness of Don Juan, the romance of Mr. Darcy, the tenderness and devotion of horny and hormonal Romeo. I’d had enough googly eyes and clammy hands and over-enthusiastic kisses to last me a lifetime, and I’d never even had an established relationship.

That’s right, the truth that only this officially recognized biography of Edward Cullen can bring you: I had never had a girlfriend. And that didn’t bother me. Soon I’d be off to college where I had high hopes the girls had bigger brains than busts because, despite the allure of the latter, the absence of the former was typically too obnoxious for me to overlook for more than a few minutes at a time. Hence the no-girlfriend decision.

We were boarding. The plane was almost entirely Forks High School students, so despite that our tickets had been doled out in alphabetical order, seats were up for grabs. You can imagine my disappointment that now I wouldn’t have the pleasure of spending the flight trying to ignore Tanya undressing me with her eyes. In junior high, it had been great that our names were next to each other in the alphabet; it meant I always got to stand next to the hottest girl, and she actually, to give her credit, did have a brain beneath the strawberry blonde ponytail. In high school, it had turned obnoxious at best.

I slid into the seat beside James, who rolled his eyes, “Cock-blocking me again, man. Some hot girl might have sat there.”

“What hot girl am I overlooking?” I retorted, rolling my eyes right back at him.

“You’re right, looks like Lauren and Bella are already sitting down . . .”

“Seriously, James. Seek treatment.” There were other things I wished to say, but he had already struck up a conversation with Ashley Oliver across the aisle. The dude was horny as hell and it was getting really obnoxious to be around him. It wasn’t like I didn’t have a sex drive to rival his, but I at least knew when to keep my mouth shut.

Or . . . usually I did. I admit my comment to Bella at the costume shop had been a bit of a slip, but the entire shopping trip had caught me off guard. Like I said, I had been annoyed with Bella after Lauren’s news update. Then we were paired up to debate in history and the girl managed to convince the class that the Spaniards were justified in their brutal raping and pillaging of the Americas. Regardless of whether she actually thought so or not, which surely she didn’t, the fact that she had won the debate had, ironically, left me speechless. Normally so shy and quiet and timid, she had somehow managed to articulate an absurdly convincing argument, her cheeks blazing as she gained confidence and momentum. The girl was incredible in action, and I had no choice but to bump her up above Laure and Jessica on the rung of social worth.

So she was smart; who cared. Away from the podium, the girl had no confidence, no attitude, no energy. If she was good at anything besides debating, she seemed oblivious to it, and her own inability to embrace even her good looks was less than appealing. I don’t mean she needed to be the arrogant bitch accomplice of Lauren Mallory, but not blushing like a scolded child and sinking into her seat if anyone even said her name would be a good start. That’s one of my least favorite traits of your average teenager girl: either no confidence or too much confidence. Blame the media, parents, boys, the fashion industry, whatever. Was there not a single girl out there who could be happy in herself?

Mom began telling people I had an old soul when I was still in elementary school.

Then the shopping trip happened. She had been what I had come to expect of her –hesitant to draw attention to herself, unhelpful, uninterested in having fun. Then shy Bella Swan stepped into the dressing room and this breathtakingly sexy pin-up girl stepped out. The Bella I thought I had figured out never would have stepped out in that, much less stood there while opinions were tossed around. And she looked pleased with herself, happy with the way she looked, and that was even sexier. When Lauren called me out to give my opinion, I was too startled to even remember who or what I was talking about. Then Bella and I made eye contact and I blurted out the first thing on my mind, which basically sounded like a confession that I wanted to fuck her right there.

And maybe I did. Shy Bella was beautiful – I wouldn’t deny her the appropriate praise, she was a pretty girl. But Bella dressed like a pin-up girl, standing before me while I had permission to ogle her . . . ideas crept into my mind that I had never paired with Bella Swan before, images of an intelligent, confident, clever woman discussing art and literature and music with me, then leading me to the bedroom and showing me exactly what she wanted me to do to her . . . The slight frown she had given in response to my comment only made me want her more. Maybe Lauren was wrong and Bella didn’t have anything at all for me. In which case, perfect. I was sick of girls who wanted me before they knew me. It felt backwards.

I’m aware that I’m occasionally a hypocrite, because there I was wanting Bella before I knew her.

My plan had been to meet her at the party. We’d have a few drinks, talk a bit, see where things went from there. To make sure I was in top form, I didn’t drink anything beforehand, wandering around the party until her group had arrived. I even already had my line figured out. “Happy Halloween, Bella. I see you decided to tempt fate and wear the costume anyways . . .”

I saw her enter, saw her slip her coat off, and forgot the magic words to make my feet move until Mike had already led her into the kitchen. The heels, the stockings, the short skirt, the low neckline, the collarbones, the extra curls, even the silly sailor’s cap. It was too much. The girl was out of her fucking mind if she thought she could just prance into a beer bash looking like that and not expect repercussions. She was either cruel or incredibly naïve.

Try as I might, I couldn’t keep my eyes from tracing the curves of her body over and over and over again. I don’t know how many times I ducked out into the cold night to calm myself, alternating that with watching her from a distance, waiting for some opportunity to make my move. I felt like a fucking psycho stalker until James started pressing her a bit too hard to leave with him. I’d made the mistake of telling him about her before the party, so of course it wasn’t surprising that he’d latched on to her. Hell, even if I hadn’t already admitted her allure, he probably would have descended. Anyways, if she had wanted to go with him, I certainly wouldn’t have stopped him. But she was clearly drunk, and even drunk she was turning him down.

Everything about my time with her that night had been confusing and infuriating and physically painful. She fell against me; I had to hold her up; she didn’t sit with her knees together on the counter, and then when she pulled the stunt with the stockings . . . Let’s just say it had been a long time since I’d had any activities, and that act alone was almost enough to send me over the edge. And the way she kept sucking on the water bottle, kicking her legs so that cool air hit my overheating body and my eyes were helplessly drawn down to the motion.

When she put my hand on her leg, I was certain it was over. This was it. I had never, ever taken advantage of a drunk girl before, but I had never wanted a girl so badly. She just kept staring at me with this impish smile, knowing exactly what she was doing to me. I had volunteered to find Alice for her only to get away from her before I did something stupid like step forward and take her right there on the kitchen counter in full view of the party. Would have made the rumors a lot harder to deny. Then the piggy-back ride – that hadn’t been my idea, had it? If so, it was a stupid one. Every breath she took pressed her chest into my shoulders, her breath crawling down my neck. Every time she moved the slightest bit, I wanted to run with her upstairs. Apparently I was looking and acting almost as drunk as she was; after we’d dropped the girls off, Jasper had asked me how trashed I was.

Then in the car, she goes and falls asleep against me. It’s hard to think about screwing a girl mindless when she asks so softly if she can put her head on your shoulder. I can tell you from experience now that all it does is make you want to wrap your arms around her and watch her sleep until morning. Any guy who denies that is a fucking liar. It’s primal, I think, that urge to have, to own, and therefore to take care of a girl when she is dependent on you, even if it’s only to use you as a pillow. Suddenly the raging desire was in my chest instead of my pants. It was ridiculous. By the time Jasper had dropped me by home, I was ready to bleach out the inside of my head just to get the image of her long lashes flickering against her ivory cheek out of my brain.

I didn’t see her again until history, but there was no point trying to strike up a conversation with Jessica there monopolizing her attention. I didn’t know what to say anyways. You, me, student council closet, right now? You, me, wine and my cd collection, right now? Daydreaming kept me content through Washmond’s lecture as I tried to think of how to strike up a conversation . . . until Washmond read the note.

You, Edward Cullen, are a fucking idiot. So Bella Swan was out to prove her seduction skills, and I was the target? Or was it that Lauren had been right all along and only when she was drunk off her ass did Bella have the confidence to talk to me? I was suddenly furious with her for leading me to believe she was some exotic bird when really she was just another obnoxious seagull of Forks. I shoved her from my mind with disgust and figured the thing was done with.

But the bipolarness continued. Because then Jasper tricked me into somewhat of a double-date and Bella looked so pissed to see me there that I was forced to accept that I didn’t understand this person at all. Did she like me or not? If she did, certainly the coffee date would have been her moment to see if her notes had opened any doors. That’s how Lauren or Jessica or any other girl probably would have worked. But instead she was clearly pissed and cranky as hell and dictated our study session with an iron fist. All she needed was a ruler to slam down on the table occasionally.

It was fucking sexy as hell.

So I left the coffee date feeling like a schizophrenic off their meds. We continued to not talk, and I convinced myself that the notes were completely out of context; after all, Jessica had been the one to mention me twice, and Bella had denied that she wanted to “jump my bones.” It wasn’t conclusive. I couldn’t decide what Bella felt towards me. Animosity? A silly crush? Raw lust? That would be nice.

One thing was for certain: she needed to go on the ski trip so I could see her outside of class and maybe get some answers. Rosalie had mentioned at dinner that Bella Swan wasn’t planning on going on the trip, and I guess I reacted negatively enough to tip her off. I even made the effort to approach Bella myself and try to convince her to go, before Jessica snatched her away. Then the note I tossed at her . . . like I said, I didn’t even know what it meant. I was grasping at straws, trying to figure out what could possibly get her to go on the trip. I heard through Jasper that Alice had said that everyone was trying to get her to go and nothing was working. I scribbled down all I could think of, and apparently my note was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I didn’t know whether to gloat or fret. If the ski trip was just a Halloween Party re-run, what could I change to make things go how I wanted them? How did I even want them to go?

“Man, I feel like a fox tossed into the chicken coop,” James grinned, occasionally leaning into the aisle to look up and down the plane.

I snorted, “Might want to ask to see a driver’s license before you do anything. Half the girls here are still underage.”

“Not the important ones,” he mused, lifting his eyebrow at me like I was missing the obvious. Before I could ask what he meant, he pressed, “Oh, I keep forgetting to ask . . . so did you fuck that Bella Swan or what?” Something on my face gave me away, or perhaps it was the sudden intake of air, or the ramrod straightness of my back, because his grin faltered.

“No, we didn’t,” I answered quickly, hoping to play casual, hoping the twisting of my words wouldn’t say too much.

He tsked, “That’s too bad, man. You seemed to be gunning for it pretty hard . . .”

“I wasn’t,” I argued.

“So what, then, you were just blocking my game? That’s not very fair. Unless . . . I know you had said you were pretty impressed with her before the party . . . you don’t . . .”

I scoffed, “Of course not.” Something was still giving me away, though, because his grin widened.

“You do, don’t you. What, did she turn you down, or you just couldn’t balls up and go for a drunk girl?”

“I—“

“You want her bad,” he laughed. “You probably go hard just thinking about her in that sailor costume.”

Why were James and I friends again? I honestly couldn’t remember, and the desire to suddenly backhand him into the aisle was undeniable. We’d grown up together . . . he’d played sports with Emmett until quitting to try and start a band . . . he had good taste in music and typically wasn’t too obnoxious to be around . . . would I miss him too much if I broke his jaw?”

“Look at you,” he continued, shaking his head. “You want her more than you wanted Tanya, I bet.”

I rolled my eyes, “Fuck off, James. I don’t want her. She’s Jasper’s girlfriend’s best friend, though, so some consideration has to be--”

“Yeah, and Tanya was my girlfriend,” he snorted. “You just don’t want any competition.”

“I think you’ll find plenty of competition just within her circle of friends. Mike and Tyler have been vying for her affection since—“

“Well they can have her affection and I’ll take her—“

“James. Just don’t. Emmett will kick your ass; he talks about her like she’s his little sister.”

“Sure. Emmett will kick my ass.” He seemed to consider this for another moment, then shook his head, “Emmett can’t do anything if she asks for it.”

I knew my reactions were just egging him on so I bit my tongue, as difficult as it was. The idea of Bella asking James to – I was plenty used to the way he talked about girls, but hearing him now . . . sure, he had gone after her at the Halloween Party, but he had been drunk and not put up much of a fight when I chased him off from Bella. He still had Lauren waiting in the wings. But Rosalie, who got an inordinate amount of pleasure from gossip concerning me, had gleefully shared that Lauren had turned her attention to me, and suddenly Bella was a deer fleeing the panther stalking her in the twilight.

What if Bella wanted him, though? He was right; she had happily chatted and drank and danced with him for the entire party, and only refused to leave with him because she didn’t want to leave Alice. For all I knew, she wanted James to catch her. Was it any of my business to warn her if he just wanted a hit and run? Maybe that’s what she wanted . . . doubtful . . . but I remembered my overwhelming desires at the party. Was I really any different than James?

“Personally, I would appreciate it if you distracted Lauren,” I suggested.

He just grinned, “Sure you would, Ed. No hard feelings . . . but game on.”