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Daylight

Summary:
 ^^^Made by the lovely, twilightOCD (yes I know thats my pen name, duh.) This is pretty much what would happen if I was Bella. Well, not really Bella, just having gotten to Edward first (I always dream of that :P) It's kind of boring at first, maybe to you, but for me, imagining me doing that, is just so exciting. Wow...he's even hotter in person, lol.


Notes:


4. Chapter 4: Just when you thought it was safe.

Rating 2.5/5   Word Count 846   Review this Chapter

Upon seeing me, he stiffened, and then broke out in that maniacal laughter once again. Strange, the Edward I’d imagined wasn’t quite so…what’s the word… hmmmmm….umm… oh, right…maniacal.

I handed the teacher my slip, then waited as he signed it. He pointed me to the back of the room, where, across the aisle from Edward’s seat, an empty chair existed next to a girl with a bad perm and braces.

Darn it! I had to admit, I had wanted that spot next to Edward. I don’t know why – maybe because of his fictional character-ness. He looked so much like the Edward (book) Cullen in my mind that it was strange getting to be near him. But hey, I was still technically next to him.

When I sat down, he was staring at me. Not even discretely, but as if it were completely normal. I turned momentarily to look at him out of the corner of my eye, but he was still staring at me, with mixed frustration and interest.

What was his deal? Seriously, why was he staring at me? Maybe he thought I was sexy? Haha, yeah right. Maybe he thought I was ugly. Psh, are you kidding me? Maybe he just had an issue. Most probably.

Yeah, I laughed to myself. He’s a retard/stalker/crazy/insane/moron who couldn’t stop staring at me for some unknown reason. Though the stalker idea probably wasn’t a good thing…

I set my book on the edge of my desk carefully as I pulled my binder out of my bag. It wasn’t exactly empty – it had some notes from my old school that I thought I might need, and I might be able to use to look incredibly smart.

In a flash, Edward grabbed the book and studied the cover. His golden eyes scanned the hardback book jacket, and then flipped it over, reading the synopsis. My eyes widened, and I felt my cheeks redden with embarrassment when I remembered that the synopsis included the name “Edward Cullen”. Oh. Crap.

“Huh,” he exhaled, finishing the reading in an impressively short amount of time. “What a coincidence.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, “that’s kinda why I freaked out when you told me your name earlier.” I laughed uneasily.

“Oh,” he chuckled, “I see.”

There was an awkward silence as I took my book back and replaced it, then opened my binder.

“So, is it good so far?” He asked with a smile.

“Oh, it’s been amazing every time I’ve read it,” I babbled excitedly.

“Every time?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” I flushed, “I’ve read it about…” I held up my hands and counted on my fingers, “ten…no, eleven times.”

“Wow, that good, huh?”

“Oh, yes. It’s absolutely amazing!”

“Well then, I’ll have to read it, won’t I?” Oh crap. He can’t read it! Then he’d know that it almost describes him and think I created it as a stalker memoir! That would be horrible.

“Um, well… uh,” I stalled, tripping over my words, and thoughts. “It’s sort of in a girl’s point of view, so I’m not sure if you’ll be able to…relate, exactly.”

“Oh, no I think I’ll manage.”

“Well, uh, enjoy,” I said finally, giving up. Oh well. I tried to tell him.

The teacher grabbed our attention then, starting a discussion on cell division. Edward and I didn’t have another chance to talk, and at the end of class, he was out of his seat in a rush and out the door. I was left staring after him in awe.

I had gym last period, which was, of course, thrilling, and that kept me occupied. We were playing volley ball, and when I had to serve the ball, I ended up taking out a thin blonde in front of me.

Wearily, I walked the block to my house after a long period of gym. My father greeted me when I came in, and asked how my day was. Fine, I’d told him, even though it was a lie.

Nothing else happened until the next morning, when I started the day off with a bowl of cocoa pebbles and heading off to school. Again I stood in awe as I entered the campus, shocked at how Forks High School was so much like Stephenie Meyer had described it.

I heard an odd rumbling come from behind me out of no where, and then a loud roaring as the monstrous red truck passed me. It must have been at least a nineteen fifties model. But I paid no mind to it, since everyone except the owner of the Volvo had unsightly cars.

It wasn’t until my first period English class that I realized why the roaring truck had seemed so familiar. We had a new student in our class – a seventeen year old junior who’d just moved from Arizona with brown hair and eyes. Her name was Isabella Swan.