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Edward never came back after he left Bella in New Moon. Bella went to college, married Jacob, had a daughter. When Bella's grandaughter and Edward find each other in Forks, can Edward overcome his memories and devote himself to a new love?
It's a tired old plot, but this is the first time I've ever written Twilight fanfiction, so please indulge me.
4. Chapter 4
Word Count 1963
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I’m frantic with worry for Izzie when we return to Forks from our hunting trip. Inwardly frantic, I mean. No one has mentioned Izzie since the conclave yesterday, and I’m eager to keep it that way. I don’t want to hear them lecturing me, knowing deep inside that they’re right. It doesn’t matter if they’re right, because I don’t think I can stop.
By the next morning, however, my attitude has changed. I must stop. I can’t keep putting Izzie in danger, not if I love her. I’m not going to do a repeat of the Bella-thing, but I am going to back off. If I can do that.
In AP Chemistry, I give Izzie a curt hello and barely speak to her for the rest of the period. At first she seems hurt, then she grows chilly. At the end of the period she leaves before me. At lunch she occupies her normal seat, but I sit with Alice and Jasper. I am miserable the whole day. I’ve made her hate me, she’ll never forgive me, I screwed up and now anything we could have had together is gone forever. But at least she’s not in danger, a little voice whispers. She is still in danger, though! I can still smell her, sitting not to far away, talking to a blond boy who is trying way too hard with his hair. I shoot a glare at him before I can stop myself. Alice catches my eye.
Are you sure you’re doing the right thing? she thinks. Jasper, too, is having doubts.
“What else could I do?” I ask them.
“You could trust yourself,” Alice says softly. “Just trust yourself to do the right thing, and don’t think about what could go wrong because that’s not going to happen.”
“But what if it does?”
“Edward, you don’t give yourself enough credit. When was the last time…?”
“More than a hundred years ago.” I wince away from the memory, from the 1940s. I was a mature vampire then, and I should have known better. “But that doesn’t mean anything,” I say.
“Yes, it does,” Alice says sharply. “Don’t belittle yourself. It means something.”
“Well it’s too late now, anyway,” I say gloomily. “I’ve already ruined it.”
“No. You’ve started to ruin it,” Alice says. “Now what you do is go over to her and apologize for being so sulky and explain why. And then apologize again.”
“You want me to explain to her that I avoided her this morning because I’m an immortal vampire who wants to suck her blood almost as much as I love her, but because I love her more I’m staying away from her so I don’t succumb to temptation to kill her?”
“No! Edward, don’t be ridiculous,” Alice says impatiently. “Make something up.”
“Anything,” Jasper says. “As long as it’s reasonably flattering.”
“Thanks, Jasper. That’s very helpful.” Jasper meets my eyes and I find myself unwillingly relaxing. It just makes me angrier.
“Stop doing that!” I hiss, desperately clinging to the anger. Something in my eyes must scare him off, because the relaxation flickers and fades.
“You know I hate that,” I grumble.
“Alright, alright; I stopped. Happy?”
“How can I be happy? She hates me!”
“You’re such a drama queen, Edward!” Alice says impatiently. “Stop wallowing for God’s sake!”
I want to say ‘you just don’t understand!’ but if I do I’ll look even more foolish. I stay silent and lean back in my chair. Alice rolls her eyes.
“Well, look,” she says. “I’ve given you my advice and Jasper’s given you his and it’s very good advice. So either act on it or stop whining. You’ve only yourself to blame for this situation.”
“But I’m putting her in danger!” I protest.
“We’ve been through this already!”
Having thoroughly annoyed Alice and Jasper with my bizarre love life, I sulked though the rest of school and drove back to the house in silence, pondering my options and trying to ignore Alice and Jasper’s less-than-pleased thoughts.
I came to a decision soon after half an hour’s uninterrupted brooding. I left immediately; if I waited too long, her father would be home.
I ring the bell and wait on Izzie’s doorstep, cursing myself for getting into this situation. Izzie probably doesn’t want to talk to me, probably won’t even bother to open the door.
The door opens and Izzie peers out. She looks down. The misery in my stomach tightens – I made her unhappy! – but my heart is glad to see her again.
“Hi, Edward,” she says. “Do you want something?”
“Yes,” I say, “Er – I mean, can I come in?” It’s been a long time since I stumbled in my speech, but there’s something in the way Izzie’s eyes look into mine that throws me. She hesitates.
“Sure,” she says, and opens the door wide. I step into the small entry hall and follow her into the living room, half expecting to see Charlie sitting on the sofa, watching basketball. The room is empty, and I remind myself that Charlie is long gone, just like Bella.
“Sit down,” she says. “Do you want something to drink?”
“No thanks,” I say. “Izzie – I’m really sorry.” She opens her mouth to speak, but in the kitchen, the phone rings.
“Hang on,” she says, going to answer it.
“Oh, hi Dad. No, I’m fine.”
“No, it’s okay. Fewer dishes for me to wash.”
“Yeah, see you then. Bye.”
My sensitive vampire hearing has filled in the rest of the conversation for me. Her father is working late and won’t be home for hours.
I returned to the living room and sat opposite the boy sitting awkwardly on the leather couch, wondering what on earth I was going to say to him. I had been counting on my father’s imminent return to shorten this uncomfortable visit – what guy wants to spend much time talking to a girl’s father? – but that’s out the window, thanks to my dad’s rigorous work schedule.
“What are you sorry for?” I asked quietly. He didn’t squirm – Edward’s much to composed – but he gave the impression of squirming without actually moving at all.
“If you’re apologizing for ignoring me today, it’s okay,” I continue. “Though I would like to know why, and if you’re going to do that sort of thing regularly.”
“I very much hope it won’t be regular,” he said wryly, twisting his mouth. “As to why…”
I forgave him at that moment, just for the way he looked; a glowing Greek god in my living room. It’s wrong to judge people by the way they look – but I just couldn’t imagine that Edward had done anything wrong. I didn’t show it, though. I didn’t want Edward to think he could walk all over me from now on.
“As to why,” he repeated. “I suppose it’s because I want you to make the right choice.”
“And what do you mean by that?”
“The right choice for you,” he said. “Not the right choice for me. I’m not sure there is a right choice for me. Not anymore.”
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” I said.
No,” he said quietly. “Of course not. I shouldn’t have told you this, you know? But it’s too late now…Basically, I’m not good for you.”
I raised an eyebrow, the only possible reply. I mean, it’s pretty obvious that there’s something unusual…special…about Edward, but this was getting odd.
“Trust me,” he said. “Or actually, don’t.”
“I don’t know what I’m trusting you or not with,” I said. “And I wish you’d explain. I hate mysteries.”
A smile quirked his perfect mouth, and I leaned forward a little, involuntarily, drawn to him.
“Do you always read the last page of detective novels first?” he asked.
“Always,” I replied, staring into his eyes, butter-scotch yellow. “I can’t watch mysteries on A&E either. I just can’t take the suspense.” Was it my imagination, or was he leaning forward too?
“I’m afraid you’re doomed to frustration,” he said, his voice warm. “You’ll never figure it out.” His eyes were mesmerizing, drawing me closer to him.
“Then you’d better tell me,” I said.
“No, I can’t.” He smiled again. It wasn’t my imagination, he was definitely leaning towards me over the coffee table.
“I’ll never forgive you.”
“Good. Maybe that will persuade you to make the right choice.” The words were enigmatic, but the tone wasn’t. It was warm, and incredibly seductive.
“Once I understand what choice it is you’re talking about.”
“For your sake, I hope you never understand.”
“Would it be too much for me?” I tipped my head to one side and smiled a little. I was close enough to hear his breath catch for just a split-second.
“I am beginning to wonder if anything is too much for you,” he said. Our heads were close together over the coffee table, my nose just a few inches from his. I could guess what was coming next.
He kissed me, very softly, on my lips. It couldn’t have lasted a second, but I would never forget how sweet his lips tasted. Or how cold.
“You’re freezing,” I said, still gazing into his eyes. There was a pause.
“Yes,” he said. “I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.” His eyes were now somehow pained, and he leaned away from me, back into his chair. With an inward sigh, I leaned back myself.
“Why shouldn’t you have done it?”
“I shouldn’t get…No. I already told you I couldn’t tell you this.”
“So you deny me information and then you kiss me?” I teased.
“You are much too alluring for your own good.”
“But not enough to persuade you to tell me.”
“I think we’ll hold off on that.”
“But now I’m curious. I have too know. I’ll never leave you alone until I know.”
“Good,” he said, and his tone made me shiver. “I’ll never tell you.”
We were leaning towards each other again, and I could see where this would go. Probably Edward could too, because he got up suddenly, with his usual inhuman grace.
“I’d better go, Izzie,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Laying in bed that night, I replayed the scene over and over again in my mind. His self-conscious apology, my questions, our flirting…the kiss.
That kiss. It had been so soft, so chaste, yet so unbelievably seductive. I had participated in several intense, hungry, sexy kisses. This had been nothing like that, but somehow it was more poignant, almost painful in the best possible way. And so unforgettable.
But why was his mouth so cold? I tried to remember if he was always like that, and realized I had never actually touched him before this. That wasn’t so surprising – I’ve always been big on personal space. I don’t like hugs, holding hands, any of that stuff. But why was he so cold?
What else was unusual about him – besides the obvious? His chill, his pallor, his eyes…Edward was right, I would never figure him out without further clues.
Right, then. I would get more clues.