Again: Chapter 4

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Chapter 4

Minneapolis, 1999

After our stroke-of-midnight kiss, Edward was all I could think about. Try as I
might, I couldn't get him out of my head. His lips were the first things on my
mind when I woke up each morning, and his eyes were the last things I saw
behind my lids when I went to bed each night. I longed for flannel shirts and
dirty dancing, kisses that tasted like peppermint but felt like fire. I asked some
of the guys from the party if they knew who he was, but nobody seemed to
have a clue. I had resigned myself to the fact that I'd probably never see him
again.

The university liked to torture its art history majors by forcing us to take several
hands on art classes. I had a few years to go before I needed to worry about my
major coursework, but I wanted to get the painful stuff out of the way early on.
Rip the Band-Aid off so I could focus on what I loved later. So, I took a leap and
signed up for drawing.

I loved art. I loved it more than anything else. I loved to study it, to look at it,
and to critique it. I did not; however, love to create it, and I had little to no
talent, especially when it came to drawing.

On the eve of my first assignment critique, I'd stayed up almost all night trying
to perfect the shading on a charcoal still life of a cornucopia. I finally stumbled
to bed after three in the morning, so thoroughly exhausted that I forgot to set
my alarm. I woke up a few hours later, freaking out immediately because my
class had already started. I knew I probably wouldn't get to the art building in
time but I tried anyway, and as I was running down the corridors of the floor
that contained the studios, I rounded a corner and slammed into something
hard and warm. The force knocked me backwards, and I fell in a heap on my
ass.

"Whoa, are you okay?"

"Yeah, just a bit mortified …" my words trailed off when I cracked one eye open
and saw springtime eyes staring back at me. Two blinks of my eyes and one
pinch to my arm told me this was not in fact a dream, and that the kissable
stranger from New Years Eve was towering over me.

The corner of his mouth turned up in a delicious smirk. "Holy shit. It's you.
Strawberry Girl."

I frowned. "Strawberry Girl?"

"Your lips tasted like strawberries when I kissed you." He reached a hand out
and I grabbed it, letting him pull me up into a standing position.

"Strawberries? Oh, yeah, probably from the wapatoolie," I blathered. His eyes
were still on me but his smirk had transformed into a full-blown smile.

"Are you an artist?" He nodded his chin in the direction of my portfolio. I
laughed loudly as I bent to pick it up.

"Only if you call stick figures a form of art. They're about the only thing I can
draw."

"So you haul a portfolio around for the fun of it?"

I laughed again, only this time it came out as a high-pitched cackle. "I'm in
drawing right now."

"So you are an artist then?"

I shook my head. "I'm an art history major. We have to take some art classes,
though. So, here I am." I noticed he had a portfolio propped against the wall as
well. "Are you an artist?"

He smiled. "Something like that." I didn't know what swooning looked like, but I
was pretty sure I did just that.

"Shit!" I looked down at my watch, which told me it was now after nine.

"What's wrong?"

"I was late when I got here—hence the whole running down the hall like a mad
woman thing. I missed my first critique."

He winced and a look of sympathy passed over his face. "Ouch. Not a good way
to jumpstart a drawing career."

I stared at him for a minute before breaking out in laughter. He followed suit,
and soon we were standing side-by-side, clutching our stomachs and trying to
catch our breath.

"So, Strawberry Girl, do you have a name?"

I considered being coy, much like he was the first night we met, but decided
straight forward was a better approach. "Bella. Bella Swan."

"A beautiful name for a beautiful girl." He stuck his hand out and I grabbed it in
a shake. "I'm Edward Cullen."

"It's nice to formally meet you, Edward."

"I think I liked our previous, completely informal introduction better." He
wiggled his eyebrows mischievously and I felt my face heat up.

"I better go find my professor before she thinks I jumped ship on her class." I
heaved my portfolio over my shoulder and turned to book it down the hall.

"Bella?" His voice stopped me, and when I turned to face him once more, my
breath caught in my throat. His eyes burned into me, intense and vivid, flashing
with an emotion I'd never seen before.

"Yeah?"

"Can I see you again? Intentionally, this time."

I sucked my lip between my teeth and bit down on it to keep myself from
screaming as my heart and stomach did back flips. "Sure. That sounds great."
We exchanged information and settled on a day and time.

I felt like I was walking on clouds the rest of the day—even when my drawing
professor told me I'd earned a big, fat "F" on my first assignment.

.

.

.

Four days later, I stood in front of the full-length mirror, an unfamiliar girl
staring back at me. My hair was pulled up in a messy bun, my mahogany eyes
had a thick coat of liner around them, and the navy dress Rose outfitted me in
made my boobs look two sizes larger than they really were. I looked amazing,
except for the blotches of red that dotted my neck and chest.

"This is ridiculous," I muttered, fanning myself with one hand. I was having a
Cher Horowitz moment and I didn't like it.

"If you'd listen to me and go outside for a few minutes, it would go away," Rose
huffed as she waved her lab workbook back and forth in an effort to generate
cool air.

"I don't want to run into Edward looking like this!"

"It's not going to matter if you run into him outside or if he comes to the door,
genius, you're going to see him either way."

"I'd rather prolong the inevitable then, thank you very much." Ten minutes later
it became clear that our efforts weren't working. Rose put the workbook down
and thrust a pair of heels at me.

"Get these on and get outside. And stop freaking yourself out. That's only
making it worse." I rolled my eyes at my friend as I did the awkward, one-foot
hop while slipping on the shoes. I grabbed my coat and purse and flung the
door open, only to find a startled Edward on the other side.

"Whoa. Excited to see me, huh?"

"I, uh …"

"She was just stepping outside for some fresh air before the big date." Rose
stepped around me and stuck her hand out. "Rosalie Hammond, roommate,
best friend, and ass kicker of any man who breaks this one's heart."

"Edward Cullen, flannel shirt connoisseur who has no intention of breaking any
hearts," he answered, shaking Rose's hand and laughing. "I like this one," he
half-whispered to me.

"She's good to keep around most of the time," I stage whispered back, earning
me a swat on the back of the head.

"It was nice to meet you, Edward Cullen. Try not to bring our girl home too
early tonight." The door hit my ass at the same time Edward shook his head.

"She's a trip. I bet you don't have a dull moment around here." His eyes raked
over my body and that sexy smirk played on his lips. "You look incredible."

"Thank you." I shifted from one foot to the other, waiting for him to make the
next move.

"Please tell me you have better plans for the evening than hanging out in a
dorm hallway?" Rose's voice was muffled by the door, but I could picture her on
the other side, pressed against the wood while she stared shamelessly out the
peephole.

"Let's get out of here," Edward muttered. He reached for my hand and slipped
his fingers between mine, leading me down the hall and out into the cold night
air. We came to a stop in front of an old Jeep Wrangler and Edward opened the
passenger door. "Your chariot awaits."

Once we were both comfortable, Edward started the Jeep and took off toward
downtown. I had no idea where we were headed, and I didn't know him well at
all, but none of that mattered. I felt comfortable with him. Maybe it was
because I'd spent the first ten minutes I knew him with my lips glued to his, or
maybe it was his easygoing nature and the hearty sound of his laughter as it
bounced off the Jeep's windows. Whatever it was, being near him just felt …
right.

"We're here." He pulled the Jeep to a stop and I took in my surroundings.

"What are we doing here?" I asked.

Edward opened my door and held his hand out, helping me down onto the curb.
"I have it on good authority that this is your favorite gallery in the cities." He
pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door to the dark gallery.

"How did you…" my words trailed off when he flipped the lights on. The scene
before me took my breath away and left my heart racing. A small table sat in
the middle of the space, covered with a white linen cloth and set for two people.
Beside it sat a cart, filled with Chinese takeout containers and an assortment of
beer.

Edward wrung his hands together and looked down at his shoes. The tips of his
ears and his cheeks were colored pink. "If I could afford to take you to a five
star restaurant I would, Bella. Unfortunately, the whole college-student-on-a-
budget thing poses a challenge."

I stepped forward and closed the gap between us, laying one finger over his lips
and smiling. "This is perfect."

"Really? he asked, eyes lighting up.

"Really." He relaxed then, taking my coat and pulling a chair out for me. Once
we were both seated, he started opening containers and we dug in.

"How did you know this was my favorite art gallery?"

He finished chewing his moo shu pork and grinned. "Truthfully? I've seen you
here practically every weekend since the start of the school year."

My brows show up to my hairline. "What?"

"Okay, hold up, because that sounded way more crazy-stalker than I intended."
He set his fork down and took a swig of beer. "My cousin owns this place and
the coffee shop next door. I help him out in the shop when he's short handed,
which is typically on Saturdays. And, well, I've seen you come and go a lot."

"So you knew who I was on New Years Eve?"

His gaze dropped down to the tabletop and a nervous laugh escaped him. "I
couldn't believe my luck when I wandered into that party and the first thing I
saw was you, alone and swaying to the music. You were so beautiful in that
moment." His eyes turned to liquid jade and his voice lowered. "It was like you
didn't give a shit who saw you or what they thought. You were in your element,
doing your thing." He shook his head and the smirk I'd grown so fond of
appeared. "I couldn't not touch you; couldn't not kiss you."

My heart thundered against my ribcage, beating so hard I feared it might fly
right out of my chest. I kept my eyes on his, caught in his intense gaze. "Why
didn't you tell me who you were then?"

Silence fell over us and just as it began to become uncomfortable, he spoke.
"I'm an average Joe, Bella. I don't come from much, I don't have a lot to give,
and I have a closet full of skeletons. And you, well … you're amazing."

"Edward, you don't even know me—"

"I don't have to," he continued. "It shines right through you, from the inside
out. The last thing you need is for someone like me to come along and dull your
sparkle."

"You won't do that," I whispered. He pushed his plate aside and propped his
elbows on the table, leaning forward until his lips were just inches from mine.

"How can you be so sure?"

I swallowed hard and mustered up the courage I knew was buried somewhere
inside me. "You have sparkle too. Even though you don't see it. And that means
there's no way you can possibly dull mine."

A dozen different emotions muddied his eyes. I saw confusion, fear,
determination, doubt, and finally happiness. I wasn't sure what had happened to
leave this beautiful man feeling so broken, but I knew that in time, he'd share.

Bit by bit, minute by minute, we spent the rest of the evening getting to know
each other.

And when his lips met mine at the end of the night, I knew there was no way he
could dull anything about me. Not when his every touch made me feel so alive.