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I had to wait when I got back to school. The final hour wasn't out yet. That was good, because I had things to think about and I needed the alone time.
Her scent lingered in the car. I kept the windows up, letting it assault me, trying to get used to the feel of intentionally torching my throat.
Attraction.
It was a problematic thing to contemplate. So many sides to it, so many different meanings and levels. Not the same thing as love, but tied up in it inextricably.
I had no idea if Bella was attracted to me. (Would her mental silence somehow continue to get more and more frustrating until I went mad? Or was there a limit that I would eventually reach?)
I tried to compare her physical responses to others, like the secretary and Jessica Stanley, but the comparison was inconclusive. The same markers - changes in heart rate and breathing patterns - could just as easily mean fear or shock or anxiety as they did interest. It seemed unlikely that Bella could be entertaining the same kinds of thoughts that Jessica Stanley used to have. After all, Bella knew very well that there was something wrong with me, even if she didn't know what exactly it was. She had touched my icy skin, and then yanked her hand away from the chill.
And yet...as I remembered those fantasies that used to repulse me, but remembered them with Bella in Jessica's place...
I was breathing more quickly, the fire clawing up and down my throat.
What if it had been Bella imagining me with my arms wrapped around her fragile body? Feeling me pull her tightly against my chest and then cupping my hand under her chin? Brushing the heavy curtain of her hair back from her blushing face? Tracing the shape of her full lips with my fingertips? Leaning my face closer to hers, where I could feel the heat of her breath on my mouth? Moving closer still...
But then I flinched away from the daydream, knowing, as I had known when Jessica had imagined these things, what would happen if I got that close to her.
Attraction was an impossible dilemma, because I was already too attracted to Bella in the worst way.
Did I want Bella to be attracted to me, a woman to a man?
That was the wrong question. The right question was should I want Bella to be attracted to me that way, and that answer was no. Because I was not a human man, and that wasn't fair to her.
With every fiber of my being, I ached to be a normal man, so that I could hold her in my arms without risking her life. So that I could be free to spin my own fantasies, fantasies that didn't end in with her blood on my hands, her blood glowing in my eyes. My pursuit of her was indefensible. What kind of relationship could I offer her, when I couldn't risk touching her?
I hung my head in my hands.
It was all the more confusing because I had never felt so human in my whole life - not even when I was human, as far as I could recall. When I had been human, my thoughts had all been turned to a soldier's glory. The Great War had raged through most of my adolescence, and I'd been only nine months away from my eighteenth birthday when the influenza had struck... I had just vague impressions of those human years, murky memories that faded more with every passing decade. I remembered my mother most clearly, and felt an ancient ache when I thought of her face. I recalled dimly how much she had hated the future I'd raced eagerly toward, praying every night when she said grace at dinner that the "horrid war" would end... I had no memories of another kind of yearning. Besides my mother's love, there was no other love that had made me wish to stay...
This was entirely new to me. I had no parallels to draw, no comparisons to make. The love I felt for Bella had come purely, but now the waters were muddied. I wanted very much to be able to touch her. Did she feel the same way?
That didn't matter, I tried to convince myself.
I stared at my white hands, hating their hardness, their coldness, their inhuman strength...
I jumped when the passenger door opened.
Ha. Caught you by surprise. There's a first, Emmett thought as he slid into the seat. "I'll bet Mrs. Goff thinks you're on drugs, you've been so erratic lately. Where were you today?"
"I was...doing good deeds."
Huh?
I chuckled. "Caring for the sick, that kind of thing."
That confused him more, but then he inhaled and caught the scent in the car. "Oh. The girl again?"
I grimaced.
This is getting weird.
"Tell me about it," I mumbled.
He inhaled again. "Hmm, she does have a quite a flavor, doesn't she?"
The snarl broke through my lips before his words had even registered all the way, an automatic response.
"Easy, kid, I'm just sayin.'"
The others arrived then. Rosalie noticed the scent at once and glowered at me, still not over her irritation. I wondered what her problem was, but all I could hear from her were insults.
I didn't like Jasper's reaction, either. Like Emmett, he noticed Bella's appeal. Not that the scent had, for either of them, a thousandth portion of the draw it had for me. I was still upset me that her blood was sweet to them. Jasper had poor control... Alice skipped to my side of the car and held her hand out for Bella's truck key. "I only saw that I was," she said - obscurely, as was her habit. "You'll have to tell me the whys."
"This doesn't mean - "
"I know, I know. I'll wait. It won't be long."
I sighed and gave her the key.
I followed her to Bella's house. The rain was pounding down like a million tiny hammers, so loud that maybe Bella's human ears couldn't hear the thunder of the truck's engine. I watched her window, but she didn't come to look out. Maybe she wasn't there. There were no thoughts to hear.
It made me sad that I couldn't hear enough even to check on her - to make sure she was happy, or safe, at the least.
Alice climbed in the back and we sped home. The roads were empty, and so it only took a few minutes. We trooped into the house, and then went to our various pastimes.
Emmett and Jasper were in the middle of an elaborate game of chess, utilizing eight joined boards - spread out along the glass back wall - and their own complicated set of rules. They wouldn't let me play; only Alice would play games with me anymore. Alice went to her computer just around the corner from them and I could hear her monitors sing to life. Alice was working on a fashion design project for Rosalie's wardrobe, but Rosalie did not join her today, to stand behind her and direct cut and color as Alice's hand traced over the touch sensitive screens (Carlisle and I had had to tweak that system a bit, given that most such screens responded to temperature). Instead, today Rosalie sprawled sullenly on the sofa and started flipping through twenty channels a second on the flat screen, never pausing. I could hear her trying to decide whether or not to go out to the garage and tune her BMW again.
Esme was upstairs, humming over a new set of blue prints.
Alice leaned her head around the wall after a moment and started mouthing Emmett's next moves - Emmett sat on the floor with his back to her - to Jasper, who kept his expression very smooth as he cut off Emmett's favorite knight.
And I, for the first time in so long that I felt ashamed, went to sit at the exquisite grand piano stationed just off the entryway.
I ran my hand gently up the scales, testing the pitch. The tuning was still perfect. Upstairs, Esme paused what she was doing and cocked her head to the side.
I began the first line of the tune that had suggested itself to me in the car today, pleased that it sounded even better than I'd imagined.
Edward is playing again, Esme thought joyously, a smile breaking across her face. She got up from her desk, and flitted silently to the head of the stairs. I added a harmonizing line, letting the central melody weave through it.
Esme sighed with contentment, sat down on the top step, and leaned her head against the banister. A new song. It's been so long. What a lovely tune.
I let the melody lead in a new direction, following it with the bass line.
Edward is composing again? Rosalie thought, and her teeth clenched together in fierce resentment.
In that moment, she slipped, and I could read all her underlying outrage. I saw why she was in such a poor temper with me. Why killing Isabella Swan had not bothered her conscience at all.
With Rosalie, it was always about vanity.
The music came to an abrupt halt, and I laughed before I could help myself, a sharp bark of amusement that broke off quickly as I threw my hand over my mouth. Rosalie turned to glare at me, her eyes sparking with chagrined fury.
Emmett and Jasper turned to stare, too, and I heard Esme's confusion. Esme was downstairs in a flash, pausing to glance between Rosalie and me.
"Don't stop, Edward," Esme encouraged after a strained moment.
I started playing again, turning my back on Rosalie while trying very hard to control the grin stretching across my face. She got to her feet and stalked out of the room, more angry than embarrassed. But certainly quite embarrassed.
If you say anything I will hunt you like a dog.
I smothered another laugh.
"What's wrong, Rose?" Emmett called after her. Rosalie didn't turn. She continued, back ramrod straight, to the garage and then squirmed under her car as if she could bury herself there.
"What's that about?" Emmett asked me.
"I don't have the faintest idea," I lied.
Emmett grumbled, frustrated.
"Keep playing," Esme urged. My hands had paused again.
I did as she asked, and she came to stand behind me, putting her hands on my shoulders.
The song was compelling, but incomplete. I toyed with a bridge, but it didn't seem right somehow.
"It's charming. Does it have a name?" Esme asked.
"Not yet."
