Kimmydon Week 8 Entry: Crankypants

Kimmydon
Wednesday






kimmydon's Choice: Both

Title: Crankypants


Delia was my best friend. She'd moved next door when I was five and I saw her playing in her back yard. Except she wasn't playing, she was moping. She was pulling up dandlions, popping their heads off, and sighing.

"Hey, crankypants!" I called through the fence, putting my face to the slats.

"Who is there?" she asked mournfully.

"The booooogie man!!" I stuck my hands through the opening and wiggled my fingers.

Delia laughed and sniffled. "You're a pretty little boogie man."

"You're a big crankypants," I told her in reply.

"I am not!" she argued.

"Good! I don't play with no cranky-pantses."

"Well I don't play with boogie men!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"What if I'm not a boogie man?" I asked a minute later. "What if I'm a Sylvia?"

"Then can I be a Delia?" she asked.

"Yep, and then we can play together." I stuck my hand through the fence again and she shook it. "I'm just going to tell my Mom I'm going to your yard."

"Okay!"

And that was that. Delia and I were best friends. I remember one birthday party - my birthday is on Independence Day. I was supposed to be all proud and patriotic, but it really sucked because all my friends were gone on the first long weekend of the summer. My sixth birthday, almost a year after I met her, Delia was the only person there. We made the best of it. We wore giant glasses and boas and shot silly string until our Moms yelled at us. My Mom seemed to think it was going to harm her precious pumpkins. Whatever, they were barely blooming yet. I kept my can and made sure to get another good shot in later. Delia didn't see it coming. Then we watched our Dad's set off fireworks. My Dad looked really funny without eyebrows.

That year I started going to school with Delia. We weren't in the same class, but met at recess and made sure our friends knew each other. We went to all the same parties, raved over the same boy bands. We stayed close through Junior High and High School. I told her about my first kiss and she told me about the boy that pulled down her pants at the water fountain.

Nothing could keep Delia and I apart. Her parents moved across town when we were fourteen, but we still talked and visited every other day. When her grandma died, I was at the funeral. When my Dad hurt his back and was in the hospital for a week, she came to see him with me. I told her that Billy was no good for her, and she convinced me that I could do better than Tyler. We watched out for each other and took care of one another.

Why didn't I watch out for her a little more?

We had been out with another friend, together of course, on his boat, a graduation party. The storm literally came out of no where. I'd heard of that, but I'd never seen it. There was blue sky, one cloud, and then we were being rocked in huge waves. We had all worn our life-jackets. That didn't stop Delia from cracking her head on the railing when we went over.

I held Delia in the water until someone pulled us out. I kept her head still, cradled against me. I couldn't tell if she was breathing. Apparently she wasn't. The doctors told me she never had a chance, her neck had broken with that first blow.

"Sylvia?"

I looked up at Teresa.

"You know it wasn't your fault, right?"

I put my head back on the rock in the lake. "It doesn't matter whose fault it was. She's gone."

"She wouldn't want this, Sylvia. She wouldn't want to see you moping like this."

"Leave me alone."

Teresa didn't leave immediately, but when it was obvious I wasn't coming out of the water, she walked on.

I closed my eyes and wished the water would swallow me.

"Hey! Crankypants!"

"You aren't Delia. She's gone."

"You're a really big Crankypants."

I cried into the lake, my salty tears fouling the fresh water.

"I don't play with no cranky-pantses. Can't you be Sylvia again? For me?"

"I don't know, Delia. I don't know."

"Try. Try to be Sylvia and Delia. For me?"

I promised to try.

Romanticvamp Week 8 Entry: Burnt Bridge

Romanticvamp
Tuesday






Romanticvamp's Choice: Both

Title: Burnt Bridge


I stretch with a small groan, reaching out for the body that should be beside me. My fingers meet an empty pillow and twisted sheets. I open my eyes, blinking in the soft light coming through the curtains. The bed is empty. I’m in it all alone.

I push myself onto my elbows, looking all around the large room. It’s empty besides me. I flop down onto my back, sighing in slight frustration. I can’t help but wonder what the use of sleeping with someone is when you don’t wake up next to them.

Movement in my peripheral vision catches my attention. I turn my head and smile at the sight before me. He’s coming through the balcony doors, his eyes still fixed on the paper in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. He’s pulled on his underwear for decency’s sake. Though I like him better naked, his perfect body is still on display. He glances at me and, seeing I’m awake, comes to the bed. He drops the paper and sets his mug on the nightstand.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, placing a kiss on my lips.

“Good morning yourself,” I smile.

He crawls in beside me, propping his head up on his hand so he can look down at me. We both have matching, goofy smiles on our faces. I reach up and run my fingers through his sex hair.

“I like waking up with you in my bed,” he says.

“I would like waking up next to you if you were actually here when I woke up.”

The smile falls from his face and I recognize the look creeping across his face. I know what’s coming now.

“Don’t,” I warn.

“Baby . . . it could be like this every day. If you would just think about it . . .”

He has successfully killed my happy, freshly-sexed buzz in a matter of seconds. This argument has been had countless times. I told him last time I wouldn’t hear it again. Looking into his eyes, I realize he remembers this.

I pull away, taking the sheet with me. I quickly scramble off the bed, grabbing for my clothes and pulling them on.

“What are you doing?”

I don’t even look at him as I say, “Leaving.”

“Don’t do this,” he pleads.

“I told you. I like my life the way it is. I don’t want to change it.”

He watches me in silence as I finish dressing and slip my feet into my shoes. I toss the sheet at him and walk out of the bedroom to find my bag. I can hear his footsteps behind me on the stairs.

“You don’t have to change much.”

“For what you want, yes, I do.”

I find my bag and check to make sure everything is inside it. I grab my keys and go to the door. He catches my arm, bringing me around to face him.

“So you’re okay with me being your hidden lay? What are you keeping from me? What are you ashamed of?”

I stare at him. If only he knew I wasn’t ashamed. That there is nothing to be ashamed of with him. He is perfection, caring and gorgeous. He is everything I want and everything I should hold onto.

Except I can’t.

“No. This is over.”

The look on his face makes me pause as I open the door. Pure devastation has twisted his beautiful features. I can feel his hurt as a tangible force in the room. It makes me want to run to him and hold him. I want to comfort him, but I have to leave. I can’t hurt him anymore.

I can’t be what he wants me to be.

I pull away from his house, not allowing myself a backward glance. I keep driving past all the silent houses whose inhabitants are still sound asleep. I pass the marina, pulling onto the bridge that connects what used to be my own personal paradise to my reality. I can feel the tears starting in my eyes as the city begins to come into view.

I used to view this bridge as my escape. How I loved the sight of it, knowing I was only minutes from him. Knowing that once I drove over it, I was free from my everyday life.

By the time I’ve finished crossing, I can’t hold back the tears. I quickly pull over, trying to bring myself back under control. Finally, I allow myself to look back. All I can see is the bridge. I stare at it as cars pass me.

I could go back. I could cross it again and run back to him. I could keep arguing with him. I could try to make it work.

But all I can see is his pain and I can’t help but think I’ve burned that bridge. I can’t turn back.

Burntcore Week 9 Entry: The Messenger

Burntcore
Tuesday






Burntcore's Choice: Both

Title: The Messenger


I had always loved hot air balloons. As a young child, I would watch and marvel how they floated so high, so serene. It was like they were God’s messengers, rising up to personally deliver prayers and hopes and dreams. When I became older, I still wanted to see if God’s Grace extended to those balloons, if they brought the occupant closer to Him. Any time there was a fair or exhibition of balloons in the area, I made my parents take me. I wanted to ride in one so badly, but I was scared.

I was scared that being in one would ruin the magic that they’ve had over me my entire life. The balloons seemed to be the one thing good about my life that I did not want to change.

As I grew into my young adulthood, my aloofness kept me from making many friends. Guys would look my way, but I was too shy to look back at them and encourage them with flirtatious behavior.

Until I met him. Byron. He was the geeky version of myself. He was barely taller than I with a mop of mousy brown hair, only slightly lighter than my long brown locks.

I first met him at a hot air balloon exhibition in the state capital. It was a big display, one of the largest in the tri-state area. I convinced my parents that I’d be okay on my own for the two hour drive to the capital.

This was the first time I ever went without my parents. I felt powerful. I felt alone.

I almost stopped halfway there and came back home.

But the pull of the balloons could not be denied and I drove on.

I was walking through the exhibition fields, watching in wonder as the flames from the propane burners slowly inflated the balloons. Every color imaginable was there, in every shape. I preferred the traditional tear-drop shape. After walking awhile, I found the perfect spot to watch the balloons, my colorful messengers to God. I had only been there for about a half hour when Bryon stumbled past me.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” I asked, scrambling up to help him off the ground.

He blushed as he brushed himself off. “Yeah, I’m just clumsy.”

“I know the feeling,” I said softly.

I felt suddenly nervous in his presence. When I first saw him walk by, he appeared to be much younger, but as I looked at his face, he seemed to be about my age just on the small side. His messy brown hair did nothing to make him look older.

He jutted his hand out towards me as he blushed again. “I’m Bryon.”

“I’m Heather,” I whispered, shaking his hand briefly.

I sat back down on the ground carefully, making sure to keep my tiered skirt in place and not reveal too much. Bryon joined me and leaned back on his elbows, his blue sweatshirt dragging in the dirt a little.

“They are beautiful, aren’t they?” he said, as we watched the balloons continue to inflate.

“Yes,” I whispered. They were God’s soldiers, preparing for their mission, and I wanted to watch their journey Home.

“Ever been in one?” Bryon asked as he scooted a little closer to me.

I shook my head, not able to speak. I wanted to so very badly. I wanted to touch Heaven. I wanted to see the face of God. But I didn’t feel worthy.

“How come?”

“I.. I’m..” Could I say it?

“What is it, Heather?”

“I’m not worthy,” I whispered as I looked down at my feet, my hair spilling across the sides of my face.

“Yes, you are!” Bryon said emphatically as he sat up and took my hand in his. It was the first time a guy held my hand besides just a handshake. It was startling but felt nice.

“How do you know?” I looked across the exhibition field, joy filling my soul as a few of the balloons started to lift off the ground.

“Because you are. Those balloons are beautiful and majestic and pure. You belong up there with them.”

I shook my head.

“Yes, Heather.”

He jumped up and pulled me up with him.

“Come on!”

He started running, a smile plastered across his face, towards the exhibition grounds. I couldn’t free my hand from his grasp so I kept running with him, his energy rubbing off on me.

“Where are we going?” I yelled.

Byron started laughing as he pulled me along. “You’ll see! It’ll be perfect!”

His laughter was infectious and I found myself giggling as we ran. We ran by balloons of all shapes and sizes. I even saw one that looked like a house.

My lungs started to burn as we ran and I pulled on his hand. “I can’t run anymore, Bryon! Slow down!”

He slowed down and walked beside me as I caught my breath. We had run across almost the full length of the exhibition field. There were only a few balloons left. One caught my eye. The balloon was a simple powder blue with golden yellow on top and white on the bottom. It was almost entirely inflated. A few handlers stood near the balloon, keeping an eye on the tethers and the strength of the propane burners.

“I want to show you something.” Bryon pulled me in front of the blue balloon I was looking at.

He gently stood behind me and placed his hands on my hips. “Beautiful, isn’t she?” he whispered in my ear.

“Yes,” I murmured. This balloon was the most breath-taking of them all. “She’s perfect.”

“She’s my pride and joy. I picked her colors out myself.”

“Yours?” I asked, completely startled. My new friend was the owner of one of these amazing creations.

“Yes, and I’d be honored if you would ride in my balloon.”

I blushed from head to foot. “Are... are you sure, Bryon? I could wreck it.”

“Yes, I’m sure, and you’ll be perfectly safe. I trust you.”

Hope poured through me. This was my chance. I could send my prayers to God myself.

“I.. I... I’d love to,” I whispered, barely able to contain my excitement and my nervousness.

Bryon walked me over to the balloon just as the handlers were righting the basket. The balloon was almost ready to launch. He opened the little wicker door and gestured for me to get in. I whirled around confused when he did not join me.

“This is your journey to make, Heather. I cannot go with you.”

“But... I don’t know how to fly these.”

“Yes, you do. You’ve known since you were a child how.”

His quiet confidence in me was scary but encouraging. No one ever had confidence in me before.

“Are you sure?” I asked in a quiet voice.

“Yes. You’ll do fine.”

Bryon stepped back as the propane burners continued to fire into the balloon. Ever so slowly, I felt myself lift off the ground. I giggled, nervous and excited and scared all at the same time.

“Bryon, I’m doing it!” I cried, as the balloon rose a few feet off the ground. The handles released the teathers holding the balloon to the ground.

“Yes, you are! I told you, you could! Now soar, Heather! Soar on angels wings!”

With hope in my heart, I looked up to the sky. I was finally one of God’s messengers. I continued to rise into the sky with other balloons. I could not stop laughing. My childhood awe and wonder of the balloons bubbled over and over. I kept my prayers close to my heart so I could tell Him as soon as I reached Him.

Several hundred feet in the air, I looked across the landscape and saw Bryon on the top of a steep hill covered with trees. He must’ve run as fast as he could to reach that point in the short time it took me to reach this elevation. He had his hands in the air, cheering, as I rose higher and higher. He was shouting but I couldn’t hear him.

I was on my way to give God my prayers. I was one of His messengers. I was worthy. Now I couldn’t wait to return to earth and see if I was worthy of Bryon.

Amelie Gray's Week 8 Entry: These Words

Amelie Gray
Monday






Amelie Gray's Choice: Picture 1

Title: These Words



Hey there Delilah
Don't you worry about the distance
I'm right there if you get lonely
Give this song another listen
Close your eyes
Listen to my voice, it's my disguise
I'm by your side

Hey There Delilah - Plain White T’s


Is it pathetic that I am so impatient for your words to arrive in my hands?

I open the curtains, checking for the tardy mailman - once, twice. Damn the stupid USPS and their ineffective, unreliable carriers.

I bite my nails down to the skin. The coffee on the table goes cold. I check the phone, for a message from you, a hasty text with cut-off words and half-finished thoughts - anything to know that you still care, that you haven’t forgotten about the girl who sits in her dark, cluttered house and waits for you to come back and bring her the sun.

Two o’ clock slowly ticks away. The clock stares me down coldly, mocking me, still standing there like an idiot.

The street is so silent. There are no neighbors outside to hound, begging to check their piles of flyers and one-time health offers, to see if perhaps there is a letter with my name written on it in your lopsided handwriting - always in a hurry, probably leaning against a nurse’s station or a wall, ignoring the funny looks people give you as they skirt around you, wondering why a doctor with a stethoscope around his neck and an ID pinned on his jacket could be so careless.

That makes me smile.

For a moment, at least.

I wonder what you are doing right now. Are you at the hospital, saving lives, smiling at little children and giving them lollipops, always so kind and professional, Asclepius in scrubs.

It makes me feel inadequate.

You are doing your part for us - for me - and I am pacing up and down the house of the man who keeps me away from you, waiting for just a little bit of you to shine through for me, and cursing you in my impatience.

So I sit down.

That doesn’t help.

My knee jogs up and down against the coffee table. The mug spills over. The flowers jiggle.

And I hear the truck, chugging up to the curb.

I am sure the mailman thinks I am insane. I run like a madman out to the box, snatching the pile of letters and magazines right out from between his fingers.

The majority ends up on the edge of the driveway right there. I will probably remember it, days later, maybe when you finally are able to drive up and see me. We will be sitting in the rocking chair, your arms around me as I rest in your lap - safe, together, happy - and you will see the pile of soggy paper melded together against the stone, and you’ll ask me why I left the mail there.

And I will just smile, and kiss you, and maybe later when we’re wrapped together in bed, I’ll tell you, and you’ll laugh at me.

And I know that somewhere in a hospital, you probably did the same thing.

The letter comes easily to my hand, after the hard hours of waiting, of suffering, of thinking I’ve been tossed aside and forgotten.

There is nothing inside, but on the front are your words, the words I’ve been waiting to read:

The distance is only physical, my love.

I smile and turn to go inside for a sheet of paper.

Hev99 Week 8 Entry: Storm in a Cider Can

Hev99
Monday






Hev99's Choice: Both

Title: Storm in a Cider Can

"Shurrup!" I groaned, at the incessant banging noise which pierced through my skull and invaded every single cell of my tender brain with it's unrelenting evil.

Groaning, I rolled over onto my back, rubbing the lack of sleep from my eyes and straining to look at my bright pink alarm clock to see which particular un-Godly hour I was being woken at.

Not there.

Not my night stand.

Not my bedroom. And therefore, most decidedly, not my bed.

A light snore from behind me brought my bleary eyes sharply into focus. Utterly terrified of what I would see when I looked, I twisted slowly where I sat, taking in an array of Star Wars, Star Trek and Battlestar Galactica posters on the dull brown walls. Then, taking a deep breath into a mouth that was frankly furrier and more disgusting than a mole's backside, I closed my eyes tightly and swung the rest of the way round to face the snoring culprit.

I cracked one eye open ever so slightly then I snapped it shut again quickly, too much of a pussy to find out whose bed I apparently fell asleep in last night. Reaching instead with my hand, hoping to perform some sort of miraculous identification using only my sense of touch, my fingers alighted on what felt like a pair of glasses, perched on the bridge of what felt like a distinctly non-female nose.

This method of snorer identification was not working. If I was honest with myself, it had been doomed to failure from the start. But who is honest with themselves when they're that level of hungover and trying to figure out where the hell they spent the night? Show me one person who would just swing right on round and look with their eyes!

Inwardly flinching, I tried to see through my closed eyelids, moving them apart just enough to let small flakes of light through, but no actual images. This was not going well.

I sucked in a deep breath, bracing myself for what I was about to see, as I tried to suck it up, when I was interrupted in my bravery by a sudden snort followed by a shifting of the bed.

"Umm," a croaky voice beside me started before a rasping cough took it's place. That was no use; how was I supposed to figure out somebody's identity from one word? Not even a word really. Barely even a syllable, just a noise and then a cough. Definitely not enough to go on.

Forcing my eyes quickly into the open position before I could talk myself out of it, I found myself face to face with the last person on the planet I expected to ever wake up next to.

'Not cool, Donna,' I mentally chastised myself. What in the name of all that's holy was I doing in a bed with him?

It appeared that he was engaged in a similar activity to me, his eyes were squeezed tightly shut and his fingers were hanging in the air, pointing right for my chest. I didn't even dare look down to see whether those babies were covered up or not.

Having said that, the potential for getting the hell out of there before he plucked up the courage to open his eyes, was going to be severely depleted if I didn't even know my naked status.

Forcing my chin to tilt downwards against it's will, my brain twisted and swirled painfully inside my skull, a reminder of just how much cheap cider I had imbibed the previous night. Making a mental note never to drink again, I plucked up the courage to do a quick inventory of my body, scanning downwards and sighing with unbridled relief when I caught definite sight of underwear.

I did a quick scan of the room and spotted my bright blue dress on the floor beside the bed. Diving for it, I managed to completely screw up the move, winding up on the floor with the bed sheet twisted around me and his confused eyes gawping down at me as I nursed my poor aching head.

"Donna?" his painful sounding voice managed to croak out as he continued to gawp at me.

"Ah... yeah?" I responded, trying to sound innocent and nonchalent, as though lying, half naked on his floor, with absolutely no memory of how I ended up there, was a completely normal activity for a rainy Sunday morning.

"You're on my floor," he stated. Well d'oh.

"Yes, so it would seem," I came back lamely. Well his statement was hardly The Gettysburg Address. Lame for lame; it was only fair.

"You've not been there before." More ground-breaking words of wisdom from the king of stating the obvious.

"Also true," I agreed, nodding then instantly regretting the movement and cringing at the agony in my poor, poor brain. "Any painkillers down here anywhere?" I raised my eyebrows hopefully, but let them fall in disappointment at the regretful look on his face.

Trying a different tack, I tilted my head on my shoulders, trying to ignore the tiny people playing billiards with my brain in pursuit of the truth.

"We didn't...?" I was clinging on to the still-very-much-on-my-body underwear with every fibre of my being as I waited for his confirmation. It didn't come anything like quickly enough for me to be confident of his answer, and when it did come it was less than convincing. His eyes went wide as he shook his head slowly, his expression strongly suggesting that he was telling me what I wanted to hear.

"Peter, do you even remember last night?" I only felt ever so slightly hypocritical asking him that, considering that the last thing I remembered clearly was stealing a can of cider right out of the hand of one of the boys on the football team. I had chugged it down in one, before cheekily placing the empty can back in his hand, patting him on the cheek in thanks and then dancing away.

His deer in the headlights look told me that he had about as much party recall as me. Dammit, I always thought those geeky types were supposed to be responsible or something.

"Riiiight," I started, reaching for my dress with rather more coordination than the last time. "Well," I pulled it over my head, feeling instantly better for being covered up. "Whatever happened here..." I gestured between the two of us, my finger darting back and forth. "Didn't happen. Okay?"

He nodded quickly, then moaned, his hand shooting to hold his head, before he fell back down against his pillows, his fingers tangling in his spiky brown hair and his eyes shut tight behind his thick glasses.

"See that, right there," I pointed to his aching head. "That is why you keep painkillers in your damn bedroom!"

"Yeah, thanks for the tip, I'll bear it in mind the next time... Oh no wait, I'm never drinking again!"

I couldn't help but laugh as he echoed my sentiments from only moments before.

"Yeah, me either," I snorted, using the edge of the bed to pull myself shakily to my feet. "I guess I'll uh, let myself out. Thanks for the bed and.... whatever."

I plucked my ridiculously high heeled shoes from the floor, considering putting them on for all of about three seconds before coming to my senses and opting for bare feet instead.

"I'll see you around, I guess," I murmered, before heading for the door, finding the protagonist of the irritating banging noise on the other side with his fist raised to start pounding on the door again.

His eyes widened with shock as he took me in, leaving Peter's room, having obviously spent the night.

"He's all yours," I said, snorting at the slogan on his t-shirt, which read, 'Magic is just stuff science hasn't made boring yet.'

"Right... okay," he returned, backing into the room slowly, never taking his eyes off me as I watched him until the door closed behind him.

'Great," I thought to myself. I was barely out of his door and the walk of shame had already afforded me one sighting. How many people would see me before I made it back to the sanctuary of my room, where I could down half a bottle of tylenol and bury my head in my pillows?

Thankfully, I didn't encounter anybody else while I walked, head down and messy, tangled hair hanging in limp curls around my embarrassed face. Nonetheless I expected that by the following day my unfortunate choice of accommodation for the night would have spread around the campus faster than bubonic plague.

Arriving at my room, I gratefully worshipped at the shrine of the Tylenol Gods, taking more than I ought to have done in an effort to silence the samba band in my brain, before collapsing onto my bed, still in the blue dress, and falling asleep.

The following day I dressed carefully in my finest butter wouldn't melt in my mouth ensemble, loose fitting jeans and a blue gingham shirt. Gingham always made people think of The Wizard of Oz and there was no movie heroine quite so innocent as Dorothy Gale.

Reaching the door to my building I did an about turn when I saw the heavy black cloud lingering in the sky. Typical. Marching back up the stairs in a strop worthy of Naomi Campbell, I grabbed my raincoat and ran back down, now running late for my first class of the day and still in desperate need of coffee.

I decided to forgo the coffee and ignore the beast within that craved it, in order to be on-time for class. I slid into the back, hiding behind my books and keeping my head down in anticipation of the stares I assumed were coming. I braced myself for the dagger feeling of being glared at by a room full of people, but it never came. I peered over the top of my text book, sweeping my eyes around the room expecting at least someone to be staring, but all eyes were front and centre, just as normal. Was it too much to think that maybe, just maybe, Peter's friend had not reported to the student population in general that Donna Murphy spent the night with a member of the chess club. Someone with Battlestar Galactica posters on his wall. I cringed at the thought that I knew what he had on his wall.

Leaving after the class in which I must have heard a maximum of about twelve words, I dared to hope that nobody knew, and it seemed I was right. Nobody looked at me any more than usual, and certainly not with the level of disdain I would expect considering where I spent the night.

As heavy drops began to pound to earth from the sky, I instantly regretted my choice of hair down and no umbrella. I was just breaking into a run in an attempt to get to my next class without ending up looking like Shirley Temple, when I felt a hand close around my arm and pull me into the entryway of the nearest building.

My nose collided painfully with a strong chest and I pulled back, rubbing it angrily. My eyes took in a red t-shirt which read 'There are 10 types of people in this world. Those who understand binary and those who don't.'

Groaning, I turned around and made for the exit. I only knew one person who wore cryptic t-shirts like that, and I wasn't ready to talk to him.

"Donna, wait, please," he called after me as my hand closed around the big brass handle of the physics building. I eyerolled at my own inability to just walk the hell out of there. I wanted to kid myself into thinking it was the possibility of crazy girl hair that kept me standing there, but if I was being honest I knew it wasn't that.

I didn't turn to him, I just dropped my hand from the door and sighed heavily.

"Why do you wear t-shirts that nobody understands?" Beside the point? Yes, yes it was. Avoiding the point? How did you guess?

"I... umm... can we talk?"

"Talking, yeah, great! I like talking. What do you want to talk about? I'm pretty sure the weather is a dead topic..." I gestured to the heaving rain on the other side of the glass door and the sky which was splitting with thick bolts of lightening.

"It doesn't have to be." His cool hand on my arm startled me and I jumped, yelping quietly in alarm. "Can I show you?"

"Show me what?" I asked, eyeing him warily as his face lit up with hope.

"The weather."

"I can see the weather. In fact, I can go one better, I can feel the shit in my hair, proving to me that even bothering to own a set of straighteners in this rain-drenched town is utterly pointless." I ran my fingers through my hair, shuddering at the areas of frizz I could already feel springing up where the rain had caught it before I got pulled to safety.

"You don't like the rain?" Well d'oh!

"Oh, I love it," I enthused fakely. "It's the greatest." I heard him sigh beside me and his grip on my arm loosened.

"Okay, I'll leave you alone, I guess." He turned from me, dropping his hands into the pockets of his faded blue jeans and started to saunter away, obviously feigning nonchalance.

"Peter?" I almost whispered, bringing him to a stop where he was. He didn't turn to face me. Touché. "Have you... I mean, did you..."

"No, Donna. I haven't told anybody. Your precious secret is safe." He spat his words at me, still facing away, but there was hurt in his voice. Surely he hadn't thought that something would happen between us?

He walked away from me quickly, before I could answer, and started heading upstairs. I watched his retreating back, placing my hand back on the cool door handle and wrestled with myself internally for a solid five minutes to just walk away.

Then finally, I took the plunge and pushed into the door, re-entering the monsoon outside, holding my book bag over my head in a vain attempt to shield my poor hair from it's unwanted shower.

I turned as I reached the building opposite, scanning the physics building, not entirely sure why, but jumping, startled when I saw his form, standing on the roof of the building, staring out to the horizon. His eyes flickered to mine after a moment of staring at him, and his expression became suddenly and overwhelmingly sad.

'Walk away!" My brain screamed at me while my feet ignored my brain more completely than I ignored those Enjoy Alcohol Responsibly adverts on the TV, and walked back towards the building he was perched on.

I eventually managed to navigate my way to the roof of the building, only discovering after about ten minutes of searching that there were signs pointing to the stairwell that led to the roof. I couldn't understand why they would possibly have it signposted until I saw all the telescopes and satellite dishes on the roof. I guess that made sense, it was the physics building.

"Peter?" I approached him cautiously, not wanting to scare him and make him fall over the edge.

"I'm not planning on jumping, Donna. You can walk away. Guilt free." His voice was cold and hard and he didn't turn to face me. I felt a stirring of pain in my chest which I didn't understand, I barely knew this guy. Sure, we went to the same high school before ending up at the same college, but before the previous morning he had just been the guy my ex had stuffed into lockers.

"What are you doing up here in the rain, Peter?" I took a few steps forward, my head starting to spin like a merry-go-round when I saw how high up we were.

"Woah steady, Donna." His hands gripped me around the waist as I swayed on the spot. "You can't be getting dizzy this close to the edge, you could fall."

"Yeah, thanks, that's very helpful," I snarked back, burying my head into his chest as he held me up with his surprisingly strong arms.

"You okay?" he asked, rubbing my back soothingly with his hand.

"Sure," I muttered, my voice muffled by the soft cotton of his incomprehensible t-shirt. "I just don't routinely stand on the roofs of tall buildings in the middle of America's answer to the monsoon."

"Maybe you should try it sometime?" he smirked at me as he tentatively released me from his arms. "The storm looks amazing from up here."

"Oh yeah?" I looked out, intending to see what he was talking about, but stumbled back as my stomach rolled with vertigo.

"Easy, Donna." He gripped me once again around the waist and pulled me to him. "Maybe you should sit down before you do yourself an injury."

"I'm not that tall. Sitting down is only gonna take off about five feet, it's the other million that's causing the problems." His responding chuckle was entirely at odds with the comforting arms he had clasped tightly around me as I fell blurrily against his chest once more.

"You really do have an answer for everything, don't you?" he laughed, holding on to my upper arms and guiding me to sit against a chimmney or something.

"I have a strong suspicion that were you to ask me one of those scarily difficult, scratch your brains out, physics questions, I would struggle," I retorted, pretty much proving his point in the process.

"I'll have to test that theory out sometime," he laughed, sitting down next to me and allowing me to slump against him wearily.

My eyes were firmly shut in an attempt to stop the crazy spinning, and my head was resting on his shoulder. Breathing deeply to try to get the oxygen circulating around my brain again, I caught a hint of apple. He smelt like apples.

I love apples.

"Mmm?" Shit. Did I say that out loud?

I shook my head, then cracked one eye open warily to the sight of him looking down at me, with a look of affectionate amusement on his face.

"Better?" he asked, his eyes widening behind his glasses. His eyes were really blue. I had never noticed that before. They were that piercing shade of blue, the colour I always imagined when I thought of the Pacific Ocean.

"Yeah much, thanks."

"Better enough to maybe open the other eye? Maybe catch some of the storm? It's pretty amazing." I forced the other eye open, but remained gazing at him, finding myself completely lost in his deep blue pools.

Laughing, he took my chin between his finger and thumb and turned my face away from him.

"The storm is that way, Donna."

"Right, the storm... yeah." My eyes flickered briefly back to him before staring out at the rain soaked horizon.

Lightning tore across the sky, lighting it up in hues of purple and silver as the roaring thunder burned in my ears. Without thinking I pressed myself further into his side and felt his arm snake around my shoulders.

"Is it safe up here?" I whispered, the might of the storm suddenly making me feel terribly small.

"As safe as it is down there," he replied, running his hand up and down my arm. I felt a light tingling sensation running in a trail wherever his fingers moved, drawing my eyes away from the amazing show that nature was providing and back to his eyes.

"It's so beautiful," I said quietly, my eyes locked with his and staring unashamedly.

"Yeah... beautiful," he replied, his eyes searing with intensity as he brought his hand up and brushed my cheek lightly with his thumb. A spark shot through me at his touch and I covered his hand with mine, holding it to my cheek, enjoying the strange sensation it was sending through me. Something in his expression and the way he formed his words made me believe that he wasn't talking about the storm any more.

His face leaned in slowly towards mine, his eyes intoxicating as they held my gaze. Then, so slowly that the movement was barely discernible, his lips found mine, brushing against them softly, like a ghost's touch. An incendiary of fireworks broke out throughout my body at that, his lightest of touches, and I pushed forwards, making the kiss more definite, more real. His lips felt so soft, so smooth against mine and his apple scent was clouding my mind and fogging up my senses. My caged mind was trying to scream at me that I was insane; that I was losing the plot entirely. But no matter how loud it hollered, it couldn't drown out the feeling that this was right somehow.

As his tongue ghosted along my lips, I parted them slightly, allowing our tongues to entwine and dance together. The contact was enthralling and despite myself I found that I didn't want it to end.

But eventually our mutual need for oxygen forced us apart, and his eyes immediately darted downwards, as though he was regretting kissing me. I pulled back, hurt coursing though me at his obvious regret. As I did his eyes flickered up to mine, filled with uncertainty and confusion.

"That was amazing," I whispered, smiling shyly at him and watching the corners of his mouth twitch sightly and then turn upwards, his eyes widened in surprise.

"Nothing happened," he started, averting his eyes from me once again. "After the party. I was walking you home, but you were so unsteady on your feet and you couldn't remember where your room was. I didn't want to leave you, and you had no cell phone on you, so I carried you to my room and we fell straight to sleep. You were drunk, but you weren't that drunk." His last words held a slight edge of bitterness as he started to claw at the grit on the roof we were sat on.

I placed a finger under his chin, tilting his face up so that he was looking at me. His eyes were slightly glassy, as though he was fighting back tears, and his hands were shaking. Then suddenly his arm was gone, and he was jumping up and backing away from me.

"I'm sorry, Donna. I should go."

I couldn't understand the feeling I had as he began to walk away from me. It was as though the image of his eyes, glazed over with unshed tears had burned itself onto my retinas and I couldn't shake the feeling that letting him walk away would be a big mistake.

"Peter, wait!" I shouted after him, just as he reached the door to the stairs that would carry him away from me. "Don't go," I pleaded, my eyes locking with his once more and sinking into the sapphire depths.

"I can't stay," he returned, hesitating slightly by the door, his fingers still caressing the handle.

"Why not?"

"Self preservation, Donna. This," he spat, his finger gesturing between us, "hurts too much. I can't do it, I'm sorry."

The heavy rain sluiced down relentlessly, plastering his dark hair to his forehead and running down his cheeks in trails which could easily have been hiding tears. Shivering with the cold, I slowly moved towards him, feeling the cold raindrops saturating my hair and running down my back in streams.

"Please," I whispered, placing a hand on his arm. Not restraining, pleading. "I want you to stay; I think I need you to stay."

He huffed sarcastically, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"Sure," he said, bitterly. "Donna Murphy wants to hang out on a roof with Peter Davis, and oh look, a flying pig."

I couldn't prove it with words. If I had opened my lips to speak right then a sarcastic retort would have slipped out and ruined everything. So instead, I did the only thing I could think of to do. I threw my arms around his neck, pulling him to me tightly as I pressed my lips against his with wild abandon. He was hesitant at first, trying to pull back, but I persisted and eventually he gave in, his lips moulding against mine as his arms snaked around my waist.

The rain continued to fall down around us, the storm clapping and lighting up the sky as the electricity sizzled between us. I didn't know exactly what this was that we were doing, but I did know that it felt more right than anything had ever felt before.

As we finally parted, our foreheads rested together and our arms still holding the other tight, I giggled slightly, unable to stop myself.

"Peter?"

"Yeah...?"

"Will you explain your t-shirt to me?"

Anythingzombie's Week 7 Entry: Date Night

Anythingzombie
Saturday






Anythingzombie's Choice: Both

Title: Date Night

Riley’s foot tapped against the hard floor of his basement. He chewed on his nails as his eyes persistently flickered to the clock on the wall beside him. He knew that time wouldn’t go any faster if he did this, but he couldn’t help it, he was anxious. He’d asked Bella Swan to come over. His best friend Max asked him if it were a date, and Riley replied with a wondrous gaze. Was it a date?

A sound of a door opening caught his attention. He whipped his head to his right, his eyes dancing up the steps until he caught sight of Bella walking down them.

“Thanks, Mrs. Biers!” Bella called out behind her.

Riley pushed himself off the couch and onto his feet. He brushed his moist palms against his pants and he swallowed. Bella reached the final step and looked up at Riley.

“Hi,” she greeted with a smile.

“H-Hey,” he stuttered, a small blush reaching his face. Bella blushed in return, only because she knew she was the cause for his nerves.

“I told my dad I’d be home by nine,” she said, determined to change the subject.

Riley’s eyebrows scrunched up. “But it’s only three.”

The brunette smiled. “Then you better have some fun activities planned.”

He smiled in return, offering her a seat on his beat up, old couch. She sat down while he walked toward the entertainment system, fishing out a favorite movie of his. He carried it to Bella, sitting beside her.

“What’s that?” she asked. He handed her the DVD.

“Badass Cops, my favorite movie of all time. Have you seen it?”

“I haven’t, though my dad does own it, go figure.” She laughed as did he.

“I figured cops would hate it, since it’s basically one big farce. But it shows your dad is open minded and doesn’t take offense easily, so that’s good to know,” Riley replied.

Bella smirked but said nothing.

“Reno 911 and Superbad meet in this raunchy, witty and bizarre take on two cops in Los Angeles. Lautner and Pattinson prove their ability to go from drama and angst to action and comedy,” she read out loud.

“It’s the greatest thing in the world,” Riley said.

Bella put the movie on his lap. “Put it on.”

Riley got up and set up the movie, all the while Bella was trying to get comfortable on the old couch. The springs squeaked with each movement she made and she couldn’t help but to blush. Riley looked over his shoulder at her and smirked.

“I’m going to go get some popcorn and soda,” he said. She nodded her head and watched him disappear. Bella sat there in the dark, the only light coming from the TV which showed old trailers for movies she’s already seen. She sighed and decided to get more comfortable. She slipped off her shoes and took off the jacket her mother had bought her. As she was scooting herself up on the couch, Riley came downstairs.

He apologized for taking so long, and Bella dismissed it.

“Popcorn takes awhile,” she summed up.

He nodded his head and sat beside her. Bella immediately went for the popcorn, not being able to resist its buttery smell. Riley smiled as she shoved a handful into her mouth. She caught his eye and blushed, but to make her feel better he stuck a bigger handful into his mouth, nearly choking.

As the two stared at the hilarious cops on screen, things seemed to get anything but funny in reality. Bella and Riley had moved closer to each other. Their shoulders touched and Riley was having an inner-battle with himself. Was he supposed to wrap an arm around her or hold her hand? He wished Bella would take the lead, that is if she wanted him to cuddle with her at all. But as if she read his mind, Bella pressed herself closer to him, making it so he had no choice but to wrap his arm around her.

She sighed in content, then laughed at the movie. Riley smiled of happiness.
When the credits appeared, both grew sad at the fact that they’d have to separate. But a thought crossed Riley’s mind.

“Ya know,” he stared, “I’ve got Badass Cops 2 and 3 upstairs.”

Bella looked up at him with her large, brown eyes. “What are you waiting for?”

Riley had planned on pushing her away so he could run upstairs, but instead he did something else.

“I’m waiting for you to kiss me.”

Bella smiled widely and sat up, pressing her lips eagerly against his.

Miss-Beckie-Louise's Week 7 Entry: Young Love

Miss-Beckie-Louise
Friday






Miss-Beckie-Louise's Choice: Both

Title: Young Love

Looking back on our relationship, I never realised just how cute he really was when we were together. Being his childhood sweetheart always has it's ups and downs. Thinking back I can remember when we had not long started going out when he gave me a huge red rose, it was so cute, and I know that I was technically too young to remember it, but I do. He also gave me my first crush *cue for going red*.

I remember our parents "Aw'ing" and pointing at us mentioning how cute we looked together like this. I have no idea how I'm remembering all of this as it was a life time ago, I looked down at the pretty white and yellow flower that was growing in between the leaves that were lying on the ground. I bent down to look at it, picking it out of the ground would have been a shame as it was such a beautiful flower. I buried my nose in it, to smell the sweet suckle smell of it, I closed my eyes and hummed it was a smell that I don't think I've ever smelt before.

I moved back and rested on my ankles. I inspected the flower even closer and memories of our relationship came flooding back to me. The amount of flowers he gave me, the amount of kisses, the sweet touches. Everything. I sighed deeply, thinking about our love made me feeling things I haven't felt in years.

I stayed looking at the flower for a long time. Finally, I decided it was time to go. I decided to pick it after all, and I walked down the graveyard in front of his headstone...


Liam Thomas Murphey

27th September 1932-10th November 1990

Loving Friend, Husband, Father.

Forever loved, Forever Missed.

I placed the flower on his gravestone, kissed my hand and placed it on there, and walked away.

I could never forget him, he was my life and I love him forever and always.

Oh we were so young and foolish, but I would never trade any time with him in my life.

Miztrezboo Week 7 Entry: Happy People, Stupid People

Miztrezboo
Thursday






miztrezboo's Choice: Both

Title: Happy People, Stupid People.

"The stars at night - are big and bright,"

clap - clap - clap - clap

"Deep in the heaart of Texas!"

"Jasper. Do you think-"

His rough, deep tenor only got louder.

"The prairie sky - is big and wide,"

clap - clap - clap - clap

"Deep in the heaaart of Texas!"

"Seriously, Jasper I-"

"The sage in bloom - smells like perfume,"

clap - clap - clap - clap

"Deep in the heaaart of Texas!"

"Jasper, I wanted to tal-"

"Reminds me of," He curled onto his side, those sky blue eyes dancing like white fire in the bright light of the lamp behind our heads. One long, slightly gnarled looking finger met my skin, trailing softly down my nose and traced over my lips.

"The one I love." He whispered the last words and I felt my breath stutter in my chest as he leaned in, those fire eyes locked on mine. My heart pounded in my ears to a completely new staccato. Jasper's large, calloused hand cupped my cheek and I imagined I could feel every hardened line of flesh from the hours he spent with hammer and saw fitting out kitchens.

My tongue poked out to wet my lips in anticipation. This was what I wanted. This was what I dreamed about. This was what I had hoped would happen the moment he asked me to come sleep by him on our Church's summer 'singles' camp out. From the moment I'd seen him swagger into Choir practice three months ago, I felt it.

The 'it' that people had been talking about all my life. The 'it' that my best friend Alice had with her Emmett. The 'it' thing that my step sister had with Edward Cullen.

The 'it' thing you saw in movies. That big love moment. I had it with Jasper Whitlock.

Now maybe, if his words and his actions and the cute dimpled smile he'd thrown my way all afternoon when we'd been out swimming in the river were anything to go by.

Maybe Jasper was having an 'it' moment too.

The tip of his nose brushed mine and I felt his thumb brush slowly across my cheek from where he had threaded his fingers through my hair. Surely the whole world had frozen as if a giant pause button had been hit. Maybe the earth slowed silent on its axis.

I could feel his breath on my face, that warm smell of the cocoa and raisin bread we'd had for supper. Being this close, every breath I took was Jasper. The food we'd shared, the sweet smoke from the fire he'd helped build, and on top of that - that purely man smell that always surrounded him.

He was so sexy.

"Deep in the heaaaart of Texas!"

He grinned and my hand met his cheek with a resounding slap.

"Aw, Leah what was that for!"

"That?" I pushed at his chest, attempting to stand and tripping in the blankets I'd wound around myself as the night had turned cooler.

"You.. I! Just... gah!" I stormed off, leaving him rubbing his jaw, those stupid golden curls of his bobbed around his head. I stomped my way down to the creek bed, the dry earth under my feet crunching with every step. The noise was loud in the unearthly quiet that surrounded the camp at this hour of night. Nearly everyone was bed down, talking quietly with the people they'd decided to camp near.

Jasper was probably keeping them up with that stupid song of his anyway. He called out again and so did another familiar voice, but there was no way I was turning around for Jacob Black or the idiot that had me walking off into the dark in the first place.

Men.

This was why I'd sworn off them.

This was why I told myself I wouldn't fall in love again. Wouldn't risk my heart.

But then he had to go and walk into our church.

Stupid Alice and her stupid ideas.

"Oh Lee-Lee, you deserve happiness, babe!"

Stupid happy people only wanting everyone around them to feel the same.

I had been happy. I had my job, I had my friends, I had my goldfish for company when I came home.

"Leah, don't you want to have someone to dance with at my wedding?"

Ugh, and then there was stupid Bella and her stupid wedding to her stupid college sweetheart.

Stupid, stupid happy people.

Stupid, stupid me thinking I could be one of them.

I threw the blanket I'd brought with me onto the pebbles that lined the edge of the river and lay down. I'd wandered far enough away from the main camping ground that I was surrounded in dark, inky night. The black was all encompasing until I lay down and looked at the stars above.

Wow.

If there was one thing I could count on in my life. It was the heavens above. The bright white and blues, the flickering reds and occasional yellows that made up the solar system and reminded me of just how small and insignificant my problems were when I thought they were anything but. When my ex-fiance and ex-best friend were killed a week before our wedding in a freak car accident. I had thought I'd never breathe again. Then when I found out that they'd actually been eloping themselves - somehow having hidden their burgeoning relationship - my sorrow turned to hurt and anger.

To top it all off, she'd been pregnant with his kid.

The reason we needed to keep having her dress altered nothing to do with 'a glandular' problem at all.

That was when things got dark for me. When I actually spent more time out under the stars - watching through teary eyes as they blurred more and more with every pull of vodka that ran its way through my system. I'd stare at these same stars, these constellations above and wish for answers. Curse them for not giving me any.

The stars. They were my constant. They glittered and glowed and never really changed at all.

They were, how I should be.

Cold. Closed off. Alone.

Nobody that lives that way gets hurt.

"Lee?"

I said nothing. I didn't want to talk. Not anymore. I was too busy staring at the night sky and focusing on being just like the stars were. Lone travelers, that depended on no one, and nothing but themselves.

"Leah? Ow! Oh fuck me," I heard a stumble and what sounded like a foot meeting with one of the larger boulders.

Then the voice was closer, a dark shape in the already murky landscape.

A body that I would know anywhere, night or not.

"What do you want, Jasper?"

I saw him moving closer, using my voice as a guide.

"I'm, ouch, why didn't I grab my shoes.. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

He finally was in arms distance, and I reached out and tapped his leg.

The scream that filled the air was unearthly and I could only imagine how red Jasper's cheeks were as he called back to the main camp that we were alright.

I was laughing so hard I didn't even have the heart to be annoyed that he made out the shriek was mine not his.

Jasper nudged my shoulder as he lay down beside me after I shuffled to give him space. I was still chuckling, tiny snorts and gasps of breath as he felt him turn on his side, one of those large fingers of his poking my arm.

"It wasn't that funny,"

I rolled over to face him, the moon having come out from behind the clouds enough so I could see his profile. Even this annoyed with him, I could still see everything that I liked about him in the first place. The crinkles around his eyes from his wide smile. The dimple in his cheek quirking as he tried not to give into the giggles that I was still suffering from. His crazy curls lying haphazardly around his face.

He was so beautiful. Handsome even.

"I beg to differ, but anyway. I'm not even talking to you."

His brow lifted, "And why would that be?"

I pressed my lips together tight, obviously he had forgotten that not talking to him meant that I wouldn't be answering any questions.

"Oh, right. So I'm going to have to guess." He sighed, the night creatures playing a loud crescendo around us. "I'm sorry about before. I didn't mean to upset you."

I blinked and didn't say a word.

I felt Jasper's hand reach out, tucking a few flyaway strands of hair behind my ear before his fingers - featherlight - traced down the line of my jaw. His thumb and forefinger gripped my chin, tilting my head up towards his.

"I just didn't know if you'd let me do this or not. But seeing how upset you got because I didn't, I'm guessing that you wanted me to."

His tongue peeked out, running quickly across that plush bottom lip and I felt mine do the same.

There was no quiet this time. There was plenty of noise the second time his lips moved toward mine. My blood rushing in my ears, the sound of the river running over every rock, his chest moving in and out under my palm as I reached out to touch him - making sure all of this was real.

And the kiss.

Well let's just say, we didn't stop at one.

----

*Lyrics taken from Deep In The Heart of Texas as sung by Gene Autry*

Nostalgicmiss Week 7 Entry: Come Back To Me

Nostalgicmiss
Thursday






Nostalgicmiss's Choice: Both

Title: Come Back To Me

Note: Sorry didn't have time to have it beta'd and I'm not happy with it at all. :)

Time, it moves so slowly when you're waiting for something to happen, but the moment you want it to stop, to give you more, it motors on regardless.

We'd both been so young when he was drafted, his birthday picked by chance by a collection of politicians who could have cared less for the boys picked. Boys. That was the point, all of them so young; sent out to fight in a war that they had wanted nothing to do with.

I remember the day perfectly, it was a summers day, we'd been in the park ignoring what we knew was being televised around the country. We didn't want to know if he'd been picked because it would make everything too real. The pictures they showed on the television were so full of violence that even having to think about what was going to happen was just too much.

"Edward, Edward!" Mrs. Cullen's voice had been frantic as she'd run down the embankment that led to the lake we were sat beside. Her usually perfectly designed hair falling out of the neat arrangement and trailing behind her like honey colored fire.

My heart sank the moment I heard her voice because I knew, I knew the news she was coming to deliver.

"No," I whispered, my mouth drying and palms sweating. "No, not you."

Edward's arms enclosed me in a tight grip, his breath was quiet and shallow as he swallowed his own emotions to comfort me. It shouldn't have been this way. I should be the one comforting him.

"Edward," Esme cried, falling to her knees and wrapping her arms around us. "Not my baby. God, please, not my baby."

My blood ran cold regardless of the heated summer air. My skin pebbled with the goose flesh that pushed my heart into my throat. I wanted to scream, I wanted to take him and run across the Canadian border like so many others did, but I knew he would leave with me. I knew he would honor the commitment the government had given him.

Esme stayed with us on that embankment for hours, simply looking out onto the lake her eyes shimmering with the constant flux of tears she'd been shedding since she'd found us. I had bitten my sobs back and tried with everything I could to stay strong for the man I loved.

"Bella," he whispered, his deep green eyes full of emotion. "Marry me, give me a reason to come home, give me a reason to stay alive, give me a reason to breathe."

"Yes," I answered without any thought. Esme's choked sob filled the silence following my answer as I stared at him stunned. I was eighteen years old, my whole life in front of me. Yet it was a life I had always planned with him, never had I once looked into the future and imagined it without him in it. It was simply natural of me to answer so immediately, because it's what I had always wanted.

Edward's arms closed around me and crushed what little breath in my lungs out of them. His breath was hot on my shoulder as his body shook against mine.

"I love you," he whispered, his lips finding the column of my neck as he ignored his mom's presence in this intimate moment.

"And I you."

He pulled away briefly to find my eyes again, but I knew what he would find there. I was decided. A hundred percent decided on this and there was no talking me out of it.

"Mom?" he whispered, my favorite smile breaking out on his lips. "How do you feel about planning a wedding? I want to be married before I ship out."

"Edward, that's . . ."

"Plenty of time," he finished, the pleading in his voice making my heart bleed.

"I'll get started now," Esme whispered, leaning forward to kiss the top of his head, before taking a deep breath and composing herself. We both watched her stand and turn toward the embankment with a loaded breath.

I had wanted more time with him, I hadn't wanted time to speed up and take away the moments we cherished with one another. Instead, our days were filled with him, going into the city for his physical and then getting his letter to report, and preparing to leave and me getting fitted for dresses and going through minute details.

Every chance we got we sneaked away from the chaos of war and weddings, we held one another in silence, our fingers exploring the others face and body as we memorized the lines and planes of the other. He was imprinted into my mind after that, when I closed my eyes at night I clung to his face as it danced behind my lids, even though he was still with me, I needed that, I needed him.

We were married the day before he shipped out, both of us were nervous, but not because of what we were doing together, but what came after that. The leaving. It scared me most of all because I would be safe, but he would not. He was going to war where guns were fired and bombs detonated. Soldiers came home in boxes everyday, but they continued to send more out, risking more lives.

Our vows were short and from the heart, both of us had poured everything we meant to one another into the words that would be spoken for our family and friends to hear. Such a happy event, but it was tainted with the what if's, the sadness of what would follow.

We danced into the night and left silently without letting hardly anybody know. Edward had feared the goodbyes, and I had promised him I would save him the burden of the ones he needed to say. Esme and Carlisle were waiting in the house with mom and dad. They were the only four that would know we were leaving so early and each of them understood why.

Our first night as a married couple would be the last night together for a while.

The tears were thick, the emotions heady as each of our parents embraced him with love. He promised to write to them so they would know he was alright and they in turn promised to keep me safe from harm while he was gone. My heart broke with every embrace, my eyes clouded with every utterance of love and fear.

They waved at us as Edward and I climbed in his car and drove toward the hotel by the train station. From there he would go and report to the barracks. A sob broke through my chest as we drove past the station and pulled up at the hotel.

"Don't think about it tonight, love. Tonight, it's me and you. Tonight we're Mr. and Mrs. Cullen."

I nodded and swept the tears from my eyes as the music poured from the hotel and into the night. Creedence Clearwater Revival's Lookin' out my back door was blaring as the voices from the bar rose and fell in lilting whispers.

"We've got another one," someone shouted from the door, stumbling from the hotel with a beautiful blonde under his arm. Her white dress fell to the floor, her hair in simple ringlets hung over her shoulders as her red rimmed eyes washed over me.

"Emmett, you fool, they're stood four feet in front of you. There's no need to shout," she rolled her eyes and wavered on the spot. "You two get hitched tonight too?"

I nodded, knowing exactly how this girl in front of me felt.

"Well, if you want my advice, bypass the party, free beer to all those shipping out and it's not a pretty sight. I'm Rosalie Ha . . . McCarty actually now I've gone and married this big oaf."

"Oaf? Woman who are you calling an oaf?"

"You, Emmett," she laughed, her long fingers stroking his face. "Now, are you gonna take me to bed? I'm pretty sure Mr. and Mrs. . . ."

"Cullen," Edward said, his hand squeezing my waist tightly.

"Cullen, have the same plans as we do," she grinned.

We said goodnight as politely as possible and headed to our room. Neither of us slept though, we made love all night, our sweaty bodies becoming one every chance we had. He took me until I screamed his name, he took me again and made a mantra of my name. All night neither of us closed our eyes. Even as we held one another shivering, our eyes drank in the others form until we could no longer resist the space between us.

By the time dawn loomed on the horizon, both of us were fighting for breath; our bodies damp and tangled in the sheets.

We showered together, taking our time to run our hands over the rises and falls of the others body. I knew every indentation of muscle on his stomach, the feel of his slick skin on mine. The width of his shoulders, everything was stored in my memory and I swore that if anything was different when he got back into my arms, I would get the retribution myself.

In his uniform, he was beautiful. The olive color brought out the green in his eyes and highlighted the sadness that emanated from them. We walked slowly to the platform, me in the same stupid wedding dress because I had forgotten to take anything with me.

"I feel like an idiot," I mumbled, walking toward the station holding his hand as though I would fall apart without it.

"You look beautifully, baby. This is how I want to remember you."

I could feel the blush rise in my cheeks, I knew how I would remember him, and I knew that I would long for him in the same way until he returned to me.

"Give me one minute, I'll be right back," he whispered, his lips pressing into my temple.

I gave him one nod and wandered down the platform trying to ignore the hollow feeling that swept through me. There were couples all along the side of the train, embracing and saying goodbye. I saw Rosalie and Emmett close to the end, both of them tangled against one another, so close their bodies looked as though they were one.

I understood that need to be close. It was like a second nature to me now, and I couldn't stop my fingers tangling in the delicate layers of my dress as they waiting to be against Edward again. How could I survive without him? I'd thought. It had been five endless minutes and I was already a mess.

I paced back and forth, my eyes scanning the crowd of olive green uniforms amongst the myriad of colors of the people clinging to them. Where was he?

A hand appeared from the trains door beside me, a small but beautiful bouquet of my favorite long stemmed daisies were clasped it, shaking slightly. Some petals toppled from the flowers, but I couldn't help my smile, he knew me so well.

"Thank you," I whispered, taking them from him and holding them against my heart. "They're beautiful."

Edward stepped from the carriage of the train and wrapped his arms around me, my body bowing against his as his lips once again found mine. I drowned in him, knowing this would be the last time I would kiss him before he left. There was already an announcement about the departure of the train and I couldn't stop my nails digging into his shoulders in an attempt to keep him with me.

"I love you, Isabella Cullen, Forever and always."

"I love you, Edward Cullen."

He released me as someone brushed past us, his lips swept over mine too briefly as he stepped back into the carriage of the train. I couldn't do this, I couldn't let him go.

"I love you," he mouthed, his smile sad.

"I love you more," I mouthed back.

The doors slid closed between us and I fought the urge to scream and hammer my fists against them. I couldn't let him see the pain, I needed to be strong for him.

A set of arms closed around my shoulders and I looked up to see Rosalie fighting the pooling tears with a bright smile and an unwavering wave. We were in the same situation, her and I, and as soon as I saw Emmett step up beside Edward and clap him on the shoulder I knew I would cling to her. She would be the only one to understand my sullen moods and pain.

The train pulled out of the station, rather than running along beside it, my arms wrapped around Rosalie's waist. We stood there in silence until the sound of the train had faded, the crowd dispersed from around us but we held our place.

The station was completely empty before either of us said a word.

"I hate this," Rosalie sniffed, her free hand brushing her golden hair back over her shoulder. "I hate that he's going to do something he doesn't believe in. I hate that he had no choice. This isn't democracy."

"I know," I whispered, releasing her waist and picking up the hand that had just released my shoulders. "Rosalie, do you think we could possibly have coffee?"

"Yes, I would love to. Let's go to my room and get you some clothes first," she smiled, tugging my hand and leading me from the station.

After that we had coffee twice a week and talked on the phone often. She had become a good friend to me, and like I had assumed, she was the only one that could talk me out of panic and black moods when there was no correspondence from Edward or Emmett.

We leaned on one another, both of us accepting the weight because we bore the same burden. The television showed more horrific pictures by the day, Rosalie and I would spend more and more time together as the weeks rolled into months.

More often than not I would spend the evenings in the bar she sang at, sipping on a sweet drink Rosalie had always favored. We were the best of friends, and it was easy to see from the letters Emmett and Edward had built a similar friendship between them.

It was almost eight months to the day that he'd left. One of the rare occasion I was at home in the empty house Esme had helped me find for rent while he was away. I was cleaning up, dusting around the house because I kept the windows open.

The knock at the door was brutal. My eyes moved to the window and I could see that it was an official military vehicle. My knees buckled but I caught myself on the back of the couch. I breathed in a couple of times before heading to the door.

Pulling it open I tried to keep my face a calm mask, inside i screamed. Longed for this to not be what I knew it could be.

"Mrs. Edward Cullen?" The solemn soldier asked, his face an emotionless mask.

"Yes, that's me," I choked out around the lump in my throat.

He started talking to me, shoving a envelope in my hand. He gave me a sad nod and turned around to leave. Nothing he'd said registered and the paper in my hands felt like a hundred pounds of weight rather than the mere ounces.

I stumbled back into the house and fell into the couch, leaning forward to put the envelope on the table. I stared at it for hours, calling Rosalie to come to me. I couldn't open it alone, not knowing what was inside.

Rosalie arrived as darkness swept over everything in my home. I knew I should call Esme, but I didn't have the strength to comfort her yet. I needed time, I needed to know.

"Bella," Rosalie walked in without a knock with had become common place for us, she fell onto the couch next to me her shaking hands picking up mine.

"Can you . . ." I stuttered, my wet lashes dancing on my cheeks. "Can you read it for me?"

Rosalie nodded one and leaned forward to pick up the envelope. Her trembling hands separated the the edge and pulled out the thin sheet of paper. Her eyes scanned the page and she blew out her breath making her cheeks swell with the effort.

"He's alive, Bella he's alive. He's in the military hospital in California. He's been injured, but he's alive." She shoved the paper into my hand and rubbed my back. My eyes scanned the sheet and tears of relief fell from my cheeks.

"I have to go to him," I whispered, my voice a hoarse whisper.

"Of course," Rosalie laughed, her hands tangling through my hair. "Come on I'll help you pack."

An hour later I was on a train waving to Rosalie and Edward's parents as the train pulled out of the station. I was restless the entire journey, I needed to pace. It had said he was injured, but alive. There was no explanation of his injuries either and I had to prepare myself to see him broken.

The journey seemed to last a lifetime, when the train finally pulled into the station I heaved my bags from the car and dragged it from the station, climbing into a taxi and giving him my destination. I could see the guys sad nod of understanding as he drove toward the hospital. He kept his silence, but i could see that he wanted to reassure me in some way.

The darkness made it impossible to see anything, but the lights of the hospital popped up in the inky darkness like a beacon of hope. I paid the driver and stepped out, rushing toward the doors knowing I was close to seeing him, so close.

I barged into the reception area and sprinted toward a nurse who was sat behind a desk.

"I'm sorry visiting hours are . . ."

I was not accepting no for an answer.

"I received a telegram about my husband today, I've been traveling for hours and I want to see him now."

"I'm sorry, but . . ."

"Now." I insisted, brushing my hands through my wild tangled hair.

"One moment please."

She raised her eyebrows at me as she picked up a phone, I backed away giving her some privacy. If I was denied entrance I would act anyway. I would force my way into the hospital to see him because my mind wouldn't rest until I saw those green eyes.

"What's your husband's name?"

"Edward Cullen."

She went back to the phone and spoke quietly before sighing and hanging up.

"Okay, Mrs. Cullen . . ."

She gave me direction and let me through the doors to the back. My feet hammered against the linoleum until I found the room I required. I pushed against it and stepped inside a large ward. Men were groaning in pain as nurses flitted through them trying to ease their burdens. Soft voices and whispers of machines filled the air as I scanned the beds for Edward.

He was all the way in the back, propped up in bed, his eyes closed.

I ran to him, gaining disapproving glares from the nurses as I weaved through the beds and machinery. I didn't care though, I wanted to see him awake, I wanted to see his eyes meet mine.

I stopped beside the bed, my eyes surveyed his body for injuries.

"Bella?" his voice, liquid silk and hoarse with pain danced over my skin as I let my eyes meet his.

"Hi baby," I smiled, leaning over the bed and capturing his lips with mine.

"Is this a dream?"

"No," I shook my head the tears tumbling over the lids and staining my cheeks. My hands caressed his cheeks, my thumbs brushing over the apples of his cheeks. "What happened?"

Edward explained quietly about an ambush, his words were broken and spread out as he winced with pain. He'd taken a bullet, two inches to the right and it would have been deadly.

"I'm sorry, you had to see me like this," he whispered, his hand reaching for mine.

"I love you," I sighed. "You brought yourself home to me, never apologize for that."

His eyes closed, and tears ran down his face. I knew he was haunted by the memories of what he'd seen, haunted by a bloody battle that almost killed him. I would get us through this, I would help him forget with time. Yet, I would never forget the fulfillment of this promise.

He'd come back to me.

Kimmydon Week 7 Entry: Tarot

Kimmydon
Wednesday






Kimmydon's Choice: Both

Title: Tarot


There was something odd about the way she fanned the cards out on the table. It was just a normal table, the striped cloth was a bit weird, and the circle had an empty glass in the middle. I'd drained the last of my Coke, but Miss Terry - what kind of hoaky name was that? - was very careful not to touch it as she spread the standard Bicycle brand playing cards around it. I snagged one of the red velvet cake squares from beside her and she smiled at me, her thick eyeliner making her eyes even thinner.

"Now," she said in a terrible Romanian accent. "Choose where your life begins and ends." She gestured to the circle.

I snorted, my grandmother was Romanian, not Romani, not a gypsy, but still. I pursed my lips and picked a card from the right side of the table, sliding it out a little, but not completely from the circle.

"Excellent." She left that card in place and began making her way counter-clockwise around the circle. I stopped her, asking why. "The sun travels from east to west, so passes our lives."

Well, that made sense. I was so glad I hadn't paid money for this. My friend, Jody, had said that this was the best tarot reader around and I wouldn't be disappointed. She was so sure, she had forked out the fifty bucks this lady charged. Absolutely ludicrous.

I nibbled my cake while she counted off three cards, flipping the fourth. It was the three of diamonds. Ooooh, spooky.

"You were a happy, beautiful child. A happy home, loving parents, little care in the world." Yeah, that wasn't unusual. She counted three, flipping four, the eight of spades. "But you lost a pet. I believe it was a dog. One you had had for several years."

Okay, that was a little creepy. I had once had a dog named Jake, and he'd been hit by car when I was seven. He'd been mine since I got him, when I was two. We had taken him to a vet, but he was too badly injured. I'd held his paw as Dr. Brown gave him his last shot.

"Yeah," is all I murmur, unable to comprehend her accuracy.

She nodded and counted off another three cards, flipping the fourth. The ace of hearts is turned up and the reader lifted her face to mine. I resisted rolling my blue eyes. This is part of the show, I'm certain. "You skipped your first day of school."

What?! How in the hell did she know that from a card?! She was absolutely right. The kids on the bus had teased me so badly that as soon as I got off, I ran. I came back in time for the bus home. Mom was so mad. She drove me to school the next day and I met Jody, who had been my friend ever since. What did that have to do with the ace of hearts?

Miss Terry pursed her too red lips; it emphasized the lines on her face. I licked mine and took another bite of the cake, refusing to answer her. After a few seconds she counted off another three cards. This time she flipped the six of spades.

"Defense. You are defensive. You find yourself alone because you resist letting others in." I nodded in reply. That was general enough, and true enough in my case. Jody often told me I'd have a boyfriend by now if I'd just let one of them talk to me for more than two sentences, but I was afraid of getting hurt.

Miss Terry smiled at me again. "Let's hope the future brings those defenses down." We were a quarter of the way around the circle. "But first we have a little more of the past to cover." She continued her ritual, flipping the Jack of clubs. "A stranger enters your life. Usually, for a girl your age, this would be a step-father or mother."

"My parents..." I began, but she interrupted me.

"Are still happily married - an achievement, to be sure. I said, 'usually'. This stranger is... a new neighbour? You don't move often, and so have known your neighbours quite well. This man moving in next door was remarkable for some reason."

I remembered the day Ernest moved in next door - the day I got a curfew. I was only ten, so I wasn't likely to be out late anyhow, but mom and dad got extra protective then. It was only a few years ago that I learned he had molested his niece. He had served jail time, and was watched for a repeat offense. He had never looked at me twice, but it was the first neighbour that we didn't have over regularly for a barbeque or tea. Remarkable all right.

"Yes," I answered her. "He is different from my other neighbours."

Miss Terry nodded, closing her eyes for a moment. I gobbled the last of the cake while she did. It was very good, moist and sweet. The icing was almost crisp, it had hardened so well, like candy.

By the time I had swallowed, the next card was turned up, the seven of hearts. "New family," she murmured. "I don't think it was a new sibling though. A new pet, perhaps?" She smiled, knowingly.

I chuckled quietly. She was right. I thought idly about Mom and Dad having another kid. It was kind of late in life for them, but not beyond the realm of possibility. Certainly, at the time we got Johnny, it was well within the realm. Johnny had been only a few months when we brought him home, a golden retriever; Dad liked big dogs. And he was five now, so my baby brother or sister could have been five...

"Am I wrong?" she asked, interrupting my daydream.

"No," I answered quickly. "Just imagining if I had gotten a new sibling." I smiled at her.

"Very different, no?" she asked with a small chuckle of her own.

"Very different."

"There may be one yet, we still have the future to see." She gestured to the second half of the circle and counted and flipped. The ten of diamonds. "Honors. For school, I believe. You get good marks, do you not?"

I nodded again. "High Bs. Never gotten many As though."

"That may change soon." She counted and flipped. The five of clubs. "A change of location. You will move in the next three years." Again, that was a safe bet; that was when I graduated. So far, so meh.

The Queen of diamonds came up. Miss Terry sat back a little in her chair. "That is an ill-fated card. She brings disaster of some sort." The reader put her hands over her eyes and whispered. Mojo, I thought, fighting a snicker. She pulled her hands down enough to quirk an eyebrow at me. "Have I given you reason to question me?"

I thought about that. No, she hadn't. "I'm sorry, please excuse me." I sat back in my chair and fiddled with my hat, which was on the corner of the table.

Miss Terry covered her eyes again, but not for long. "Physical. You will be in an accident and receive an injury." She was suddenly cold. She hadn't been up until now. I wondered if it was because I'd been rude.

She bent to the cards again and flipped the nine of clubs. She shook her head. "And worse, your family will be torn by it. Many will be hurt as a result of that incident." She didn't slow now, flipping the three of clubs. "Pain. A slow recovery perhaps." She didn't elaborate, continuing. She counted to the last card before the one I had chosen. The king of hearts. She sighed, frowning.
"He brings relief. In this case, an actual person. He will help you emerge from the pain, from the consequences. He will be kind and beautiful. He will be everything you can't imagine now, and everything you will need then."

I tried to imagine this beautiful man, even though she had told me I couldn't. Should I be worried that the last card came so quickly after pain and loss? Did that signifiy something? My death?

Miss Terry squared the three cards carefully before touching the last, the first. "This is how your life began and how it will end." She turned the card over. The queen of clubs. She smiled slightly. "This card is notoriously difficult to interpret. After, all it is both birth and death. When that card is something like the Jack of clubs," she pointed to that card in the circle, "it is easy to say you enter the world as a stranger, but can you leave as one? The Queen of clubs, however... You came with friends and you leave with friends. It is the simplest and easiest of prime cards to decipher. You have many watching over you, Rebekkah. Do not be afraid to embrace them, especially those you do not know are watching. They are strange to you, but they are not strangers. They know you better than you think. Embrace them, you will need them."

I sat silently, looking at the revealed cards. "It's like a clock," I murmured, noticing how the twelve laid out nearly on the hours, with the starting card offset.

"It is," Miss Terry said with a smile. "The past," she swept her arm over half, "the future. Learn from the past, take it into the future."

I looked over the past again, my happy childhood, Jake, Jody, Ernest, Johnny. I had too few friends, I needed to try to make more. I didn't look at the future. She had done a good job of scaring me with that. I had to ask though.

"The pain, the relief, will I die?"

Miss Terry closed her eyes looking down. "I only know what I see. I see a relief that does take you from this world. I'm sorry, child. I hope I am wrong."

"I do too." I put my hat on my head and got out of the chair. "Thank you very much."

"Thank you." She didn't rise to see me out, still gazing at the cards in front of her. I think she was trying to see a way out of the fate she had witnessed for me.

I slipped past the beaded curtain to the doorway I had left my shoes in. The sunlight surprised me. It felt like it should be the dead of night. Somehow that calmed me; it was hard to be scared on a sunny day. It was all a bunch of superstition, I reminded myself.

Kicking my chucks on, I stepped out of the doorway, squinting slightly as I started my trek home. Jody had offered to wait for me, but that seemed silly. A fifty dollar reading should take more than a few minutes, why should she waste the day? So I walked home alone. I couldn't stop thinking about what Miss Terry had said, what she had seen and shown. I stepped off the curb and heard squealing tires.

Burntcore Week 7 Entry: Symphony

Burntcore
Tuesday






Burntcore's Choice: Picture 1

Title: Symphony


I stood under a canopy of trees, shrouded by the dark shadows of night. There were clouds in the sky, but the moon still shone through, casting a cool, white light over the land. I waited, my ears pitched to hear the smallest sound. Alice told me that this was the night. Her vision confirmed it as I saw it in her mind. Alice said she would come.

I waited. A crow flew overhead and landed on a power line nearby, silhouetted by the moonlight. This was my sign. Alice said this is when she would make her appearance. Anticipation made venom pool in my mouth. She was coming, as she said she would. I had doubted her at first; she was human after all, and was rightfully scared of me, but Alice’s vision confirmed it.

I had no intention of hurting her, but I had to be careful. Me and this strange human had a connection that I had never felt with another living creature. It was more than the song of her blood, more than the hymn of her body, more than the serenade of her mind; it was the symphony of her. All of this, and I still could not read her thoughts. That, more than anything, indicated to me that this human, this woman, was special.

Before I heard her footsteps, I heard her heartbeat. It was elevated, but not dangerously so, perhaps from nerves. A crunch of a twig alerted me as she neared. I stayed completely still, the way only creatures like me could. I took a large breath, relishing in the burn that the scent of her blood did to me. Maybe I was a sadist, enjoying the pain she inadvertently inflicted, but that’s how I knew she was near. The burn was never as strong when I was around any other human. This burn was strictly her own, like her personal signature. Her blood sang to me, waiting for me to make the song a duet.

“Edward? Are you there?” a tentative voice softly called out.

Ah, I could see her now. Her body was outlined by the moonlight, making her face as white as mine. Her red lips stood out in contrast. It was enticing. I wanted to taste and touch them, to feel how soft and plump and warm they were. She looked around nervously as she waited for my response.

I took a small step forward into the moonlight as I whispered her name like a prayer, “Bella.”

She took another cautious step towards me. Her long, chestnut hair swayed in the slight wind. It brought her scent to swirl around me like a lover’s gentle touch.

“You came,” she stated, looking up at me with huge eyes, taking in my golden eyes and pale complexion, looking even whiter in the moonlight.

“Yes, as did you.”

I made another step towards her. She was just outside of my reach. The scent of her blood continued to cajole me, tendrils of her fragrance wrapping around me like a vise, a vise I had no desire to escape from.

“I had to come. I’m not entirely sure why, but I had to come,” she murmured, her large brown eyes gazing at me with interest, nervousness, and something else.

“You came, yet you know what I am, what I am capable of.” I had to warn her one more time, to allow her the time to still change her mind. After tonight, there was no turning back.

“Yes, you are a man, but more than just a man. You are capable of great things, things that ordinary men are not.”

“I am a monster,” I refuted. I could not accept her praise.

“Every man has a monster inside. It is a part of human nature,” she countered.

“I am not human.”

“You are more than human. You could not be a vampire without first being human. The two things are not exclusive of one another.”

By God, I loved this woman’s mind. Even though I could not believe such things about myself so readily, her mind was a beautiful thing to behold.

“You are too quick to see the best of people.”

“You are too quick to see the worst,” she argued.

“I can read their minds, I know the worst of people."

“Yet, people are capable of great things.”

I had to cede that point to her.

I stepped closer to her. She mirrored my action and took a small step forward. Her blood burned me now more than ever. I could not wait to be engulfed in it.

Slowly, I reached one alabaster hand out to her hair. The silken strands parted easily, running like water across my fingers. I watched, mesmerized, as each strand fell from my fingers.

“So beautiful,” I murmured.

Heat flashed across my face as Bella blushed, making her bouquet that much stronger. Her eyes closed and a smile ghosted across her face. Bravely, she reached out and touched my chest, her warm hand branding me. Her touch was exquisite. Even through my thin t-shirt, I could feel every line of her hand. I would never forget the feeling, no matter the eons that I existed afterward.

“Edward?” Bella asked, her breath fluttering across my face, sweetened with mint.

“Yes, love?” I brought a lock of her hair to my face and breathed in it's scent.

“What does this mean for us?”

Releasing her hair, I grasped her hips with only a hint of pressure and pulled her towards me.

“It means whatever we want it to mean,” I replied, my voice becoming husky. Leaning over her slightly, I buried my nose into the side of her neck, running the tip up to her ear. Her body shivered deliciously and her heartbeat quickened.

“Edward.”

“Yes, love?” I whispered against the skin of her neck.

“I don’t want this to end,” she whispered, as she gripped my forearms in her small hands.

Her soft, warm body was pressed up against mine. My body hummed with the sensation, new and arousing. I wrapped her in my arms, pulling her closer to me as I placed delicate but heated kisses along her jaw. Her full breasts were crushed against my hard chest. She was so soft and fragile.

“It doesn’t have to.”

I brought my face up and gently pressed my lips to her's. Her body shuddered against mine. Bella buried her hands in my hair as she tried deepening the kiss. Not wanting to rush, I continued to kiss her softly but passionately. I swallowed another mouthful of venom which helped to sooth the inferno in my throat. Such delicious pain.

Slowly, I opened my mouth and darted my tongue out to her lips, eager to taste her skin. Bella moaned, her breath warming the inside of mine. The taste of her skin was heavenly. I could almost taste her rich blood just under her skin. It was a heady sensation.

Her tongue brushed mine, shocking me with its moist heat. My mind immediately went to other parts of her that would feel the same. Emotions and sensations I never felt before were coming over me, tumultuous and disorienting.

“Bella,” I groaned, as one my hands twisted into her hair, wrapping it around my fist.

“Please,” she begged. She would be my undoing. I could not resist her.

I pulled my face back, just briefly, to look her in the eye. She met my gaze, and there was not one shred of doubt there.

“Please,” she repeated, pulling herself closer to my body.

I nodded once and lowered my face to her neck. I kissed her again, tenderly, before I gave her the Kiss she desired. Venom filled my mouth again as I pulled my lips back. Slowly, I sunk my teeth into her neck, swallowing the sweet nectar that called to me.

“Yes, Edward! Now it will never end,” she cried out hoarsely, clutching to me desperately.

I would miss the burn that only her human presence created, but I couldn’t wait to play her symphony, the music that only I could draw from her, forever.