Okay, this is a slightly different wrtting style than I am used to using, so i would really appreciate some reviews! Even negitive ones help, honestly! Oh, and My plan was to leave this a one shot, but I wouldn't mind continuing, depending on your thoughts. Thank you, so much!

And There She Is

EPOV

The bells chimed on the door as I pushed it open, walking into the small book store as per my usual Tuesday routine. The familiar smell of cinnamon assaulted my nose, warming my body from the inside out. I felt the bones in my arms and legs turn slowly to mush, as if they were being absorbed into my very skin.

I really and truly liked this book store. It was quaint and reminded me of my mother—warm, comfortable, and welcoming. Not to mention, this particular shop had a usually excellent selection of the classical novels. I came here often to sit down and read; to enjoy the Christmas-time feel of the small book store.

But, I was lying to myself, it's true, by thinking I visited weekly because of the store.

No, I purchased more books then could fit on my bookshelf at home was because of the girl who worked behind the cashier.

Every Tuesday.

God, she's beautiful. Long brown hair that lands at her waist—little flecks of red shimmer in the light if she turns her head just the right way. Legs that were miles long, a small delicate waist I wanted to wrap my arms around and hold tight. Thin, porcelain skin that seemed to be as breakable as glass. Large, doe sized chocolate eyes that always seem to call and beckon me forward—pleading with me. To do what, I wasn't sure.

But they were begging for something, I was positive.

So I came in every Tuesday and gaze at her beauty, trying to act as though I am there for the books.

I'm not.

I'm there for her.

But we've never spoken.

I caught her name once, from her name tag. Bella, it read.

Bella. Beautiful.

I walk in today, expecting everything to be as it normally is.

I expect to see Bella sitting on a stool by the counter, her elbows propped up on the table top and long hair sweeping by her face. Her adorable button nose would be buried in a book; completely drinking in every detail as though she were dying of thirst and that book was her river.

But she's not there.

No one is.

I begin to panic.

Where has she gone? Is she hurt? Is she…?

I choke on the last sentence, my heart feeling as though is been stabbed over and over with a rusty knife, blood gushing openly from the grotesque wound.

I had never realized how truly connected to Bella I was. The thought of Bella—practically a complete stranger—hurt or worse kills me.

I tell myself to calm down. Just because she misses work once in six months does not mean she's dead.

It's very possible she could have just taken the night off to be with friends. To go to a party or club, or—

What if she was on a date?

A date with the perfect man who she is falling in love with right now. And here I am, completely enthralled by her, left alone to rot for the rest of entirety staring at her desk.

I feel like I've lost her. Even when she was never mine.

Why didn't I ever speak to her? Talk to her once?

Why didn't I get her number?

Ask her to move in with me? Marry me? Bear my children? Promise her that she'll never want for anything ever again?

Why didn't I do anything?

The answer to that is clear, lying out in front of me for the taking.

I'm a coward.

I've never with many been girls, per se. Sure; I've gotten plenty of offers before. I am, after all, not that bad looking, if I do say so myself.

But, with girls, they rarely interest me. Besides going on a few dates before, I had never really held a full time relationship with a woman longer than three weeks.

And then swoops in Bella, completely unknowing.

And here I am, absorbed and more dedicated to a woman I've never even spoken to.

I've been in this "relationship"—if that's what you can call it—for six months. Six months of no speaking, no touching, no sex.

And I have never been more mesmerized by something than I was by her.

Never.

A loud boom coming from behind a row of shelves sound in my ear, followed by a loud oouf.

I narrow my eyes, distracted for the moment, and follow the sound.

And there she is.

She looks as beautiful as she always does. Of course. I've never seen her like this before. I want to laugh because she's so damn adorable—and a few chuckles might have escaped without my knowledge.

She's on her back, her hands clamped down over her eyes. Her glorious legs are lying straight, clamped together at the knees. I ladder is lying on its side next to her, an empty box lying askew by that.

And—even from my poor view here—I could tell she was blushing.

I loved it when she blushes—which, fortunately for me—she does quite often.

I wait for her to get up, but she doesn't. She stays there, on her back, as if she's never been more comfortable in her life. I am tempted to go lay next to her, to bath in her presence and warmth beside me.

But, of course, I don't.

I stand there and clear my throat awkwardly, wondering if she already knows I'm here.

She must hear my not-so-subtle couch, because she groans softly and her blush deepens to a vivid scarlet.

She's embarrassed about falling off of the ladder.

I want to tell her not be ashamed of it—that I think she could fall fifteen times a day at varying heights and I wouldn't care, because I would always do my best to catch her.

Guilt lodges itself inside my stomach, because I didn't catch her this time. Is she hurt?

"Are you alright?" I ask her, concerned.

She lifts her arms off her eyes and sits up. I gasped in wonder, the air swooshing loudly through my chest and then back out again, blowing harshly on my already chapped lips.

This is the first time we have made eye contact.

I've seen her eyes hundreds of times before. I had thought, naively, that I'd knew the sight of her coffee orbs better than anything else in my world.

I might as well have never seen anything at all.

Bella's eyes showed me the door way to heaven, to goodness, to everything I would ever need.

"I'm fine." Bella squeaks out, her voice ringing out for the first time. It's light and has a bell-like quality to it, yet still manages to sound completely sexy and husky. My head spins from an overdose of her—an overdose of Bella. And the sad part is that I am an addict, and even if it kills me, I'll always want more Bella.

It took a few moments of awkward silence for me to fully realize neither of us had spoken again.

"I'm Edward" I told her, noting that she still lay on the floor. I took a hesitant step forward and held my hand out, offering it to her.

I would have offered her my life, if she'd take it.

Bella looked at my hand as if it were offending her in some way. I started to drop it, unsure of my next move, when she grabbed it. I hoisted her up, releasing her as soon as she stood.

My hands tingled from the feel of her skin against mine. Her skin was soft, like the smoothest silk. I ached to touch more of her, to run my fingers through her thick chestnut hair, over her delicate waist, under the hem of her shirt, cupping her glorious—

No.

I have to stay here, in this world, with Bella. I could fantasize when I was alone.

I was always alone without Bella.

"It's nice to finally put a name to the face," I heard Bella say, her voice growing quite. Her eyes traveled along the bookshelves, tracing each novel as it was presented to her.

"You come in here a lot." She said finally, her gaze flickering to mine.

"I really like this store," I hedged awkwardly.

But I like you more, my eyes told her.

I saw a light pink form on Bella's cheeks traveling down her neck, under her shirt to where it continued onward...

I need a distraction from Bella's magnificent body. Or, more precisely, my reactions to it. "I like how it feels," I continued, glancing around in awe. "It reminds me of my mom's homemade cookies and snowy days by the fireplace. I like to compare to Christmas, if that makes any sense."

"It makes perfect sense," Bella assured me. I smiled at her, grateful for her understanding ways. "That was the way I planned it;0 to feel warm. It was supposed to make people feel…welcome and accepted. To feel like they were a part of something. Of a family, maybe."

My jaw open, hanging slack. Was I understanding this beautiful girl clearly? Or was my imagination just taking off again?

"Do you…own this?" I asked softly, surprised.

Pleasantly surprised. Completely and totally, pleasantly baffled.

Bella laughed once, the sound sending shivers up my spine like I had just been repeatedly tasered. "Most people don't believe me either," she said, shaking her head sadly. "Apparently I don't look capable enough to own a store."

I felt like slapping myself. The first conversation I have with the girl of my dreams--literally--and I offend her.

I should be frustrated at my bad luck.

But I'm not. Because if I am here, talking to Bella, then my luck must not be so bad after all.

"No." I tell her, trying desperatly to rectify the situation. "I didn't mean it like that, It's just, you work behind the register. I figured most owners wouldn't do that."

Bella blushed again, looking down at the ground bashfully.

She didn't answer me.

I pondered for a moment, attempting to understand what she could possibly be embarrassed about.

Nothing came to mind. This girl was a mystery.

A wonderful, beautiful mystery.

As far as Bella was concerned, just call me Nancy Drew.

When we both fell silent again, I attemped to give Bella some space. I didn't want my pesence to make her uncomfortable. "I'll just look around," I told her quietly, bending down to push my lips close to her ear. I breathed in her scent, savoring it for the first time.

She is nectar. Divine. The most mouth watering of flavors.

I had once thought Bella the beautiful nymph of my forest, dancing and leading me farther down a joyous path, her songs calling to like magic.

I had been wrong.

Bella was, for all intensive purposes, a goddess.

She blushed brighter than before--easily rivalling a stop sign--and carefully stepped around me, sitting behind the conter and pulling out a book.

The image is wondeful. Perfection.

Simply and undenibly beautiful.

I forced my feet to walk away from her, wandering through the nearby shelves. I ended up picking out another copy of Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde--my copy at home was, sadly, in shambles.

I was almost giddy as I approached the counter again, the book grasped in my hands as if it was alife line. My nuckles were red from the force of my grip.

Bella looked up immediantly as I appeared in front of her. I let myself, for just a moment, hink she might have been waiting for me

The thought made my stomach erupt with butterflies, a thick sweat formig over my brows.

I was nervous. Very nervous.

I'm not sure why, but the moment Bella eyes meet mine again, pink tinging her cheeks, I know what to do.

I do something reckless.

I do something stupid.

I do something brave.

But so stupid. Mostly stupid, honestly.

But wonderful. Even more wonderful than stupid.

I carefully lean across the counter, inhaling Bella's heavenly scent breifly before tilting my head towards her. I keep my gaze focused on her lips, watching as she licks them slowly. The sight on urges me forward, my courage rising with ever second. Then, with the gentlest touch I can manage, I slowly brush my lips against her, tasting her for the first time.

Shae tastes like the ripest strawberries and cream, all somothered in something completely unique. Somthered in Bella.

I want so badly to be smothered by Bella too.

She's wonderful. More mouthwatering than ever her scent. I want to push father, kiss deeper, because she's just too good to resist, but I do.

I resist.

Because I don't ever want to push Bella; to rush her. I don't want to be too much for her.

And even more then that, I don't want to be not enough.

So I pull back, leaving her with just a chaste kiss, and watch closely for her reaction. She's not blushing, as I thought she would. Instead, her eyes are still closed, her lips puckered slightly, as if expecting more. I find the sight unbelievably adorable. And tempting. Oh, so tempting.

Then she opens her eyes, and yes, she blushes brightly.

I'm not ashamed to say that I too, blush.

And then she smiles.

And I smile.

We're both embarrassed.

But we're also hapy. Truly and honestly happy. It's as simple as it is rare-happiness.

Bella has finished ringing up my book, though she doesn't place it in a bag. Instead she takes out a pen, opens the front cover and scribbles something down quickly. She shuts it and gives it back to me, her face still a lingering rose.

"Bella," I say to her quietly; nervously. "I'd like to take you out to dinner, if that's all right?" I ask.

I wait for her answer. I know, logically, that's it's only a few seconds, but it feels like an entirnity to me. She nods.

"I'd really like that," she whispers shyly.

She'd like that.

She's really like that.

"Friday, at eight?" I ask.

She nods again.

I'm tempted to kiss her again, but I don't. I grin, elated, and walk out of the store.

It is minutes later, in my car, my hand tracing over where her lips touched mine, that I take out the book.

I open the cover and read her note.

Bella Swan.

555-0854

872 Jamestown Landing Rd.

Seattle, Washington.

I smile to myself, completely and totally at bliss for once in my life.

Suddenly, as if breaking my bouble of tranquility, my phone rings. It's my mother.

I answer it. Answering reality.

And I begin to wait--to wait for Friday.