Friend Of The Dead

The Cullens Again

Unedited

The next morning when I woke up, immediately my first thought was that the whole event was a dream. A wonderful, amazing dream that my own mind created to give my head some rest. But altogether, a dream. But then I started to think about it, it couldn't have been a dream, even I didn't have that kind of imagination to come up with that back-story for him. Of course, it wasn't a dream, how could it be?

And then it hit me like a brick wall. He was actually here...he talked to me...he smiled heartbreaking smiles at me...he told me of where he's from and how long he's been the odd way he is...he made my heart go beating wildly out of my chest...he made me feel strange things in my chest.

I found myself smiling goofily at the memory of last night, I felt like a schoolgirl after her first amazing date. And last night was sort of like a date; we talked and got to know each other. Except we didn't do it over a meal and candles with a cliché violin playing in the background. We talked, though serious stuff, nevertheless we talked.

I stayed in bed for another half-hour, the light of the sun streaming in through the window in rays, shining through the curtains. I looked at the chair in the corner of the room next to the window, and I imagined him sitting there. I imagined him sitting there with his elbow on the arm-chair, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together in a thoughtful way, as he stares off into the distance. And then I imagined him looking over at me, and a sweet and loving smile blossoming on his face. I imagined a look of contentment in his different-shaded eyes, as he would look at me from the armchair, still rubbing his finger together.

And then I made the mistake of blinking, making the vague shape I imagined sitting in the armchair disappear. I sighed through my nose once I was out of my daydreams and imaginations and looked at the clock resting on my bedside table. It read near eleven a.m. I didn't have to worry about school, it was Sunday. I could hear some noise downstairs, maybe it was Bella? Or Charlie, if not then he's at work. I started rolling around in my bed, knowing that sleep will evade me I sat up and looked out my window, still in my bed. It looked like a fresh layer of rain had fallen during the night, for the smell of rain and the wet woods was slipping in through the crack in the window. The smell of eggs and bacon was somewhat mingled with it, and my mouth watered just thinking of food. It seems I had forgotten to fill myself up with food again, my mind being occupied with other things.

I reluctantly stepped out of the bed, a cold wind chilling through my bones. I walked towards my closet and pulled out an oversized wool sweater, along with pajama shorts. I brushed my hair and brushed my teeth, making sure to wash off some leftover paint from my fingers before putting on my gloves.

When I walked downstairs I was greeted by the heavenly smell of food, Bella leaning over the stove making an omelet, and Edward Cullen assisting her.

I froze upon seeing his figure putting plates of bacon on the table. He noticed me, as he lifted his head and smiled at me a tight smile. I blanked my face and walked inside like I didn't notice him.

"Good morning! I made bacon," Bella said cheerily as I opened the fridge, taking out the bottle of juice and grabbing an empty glass on my way to the table.

"Morning, where's Charlie?" I noticed she was extra happy this morning, so I assume whatever conflict there was between her and her undead boyfriend is no more.

"He had the first shift at the station; he'll be back by dinner."

"Good morning Sophie! Did you sleep well?" Edward said loudly, as if to make his presence known. I looked over at him and frowned, but it was gone in a split-second.

"I slept like a baby..." partly because I had an interesting conversation and an even more interesting companion before.

"That's good to hear, Bella and I are going to my house later, I was wondering if you wanted to come? My family's taken a liking to you. Particularly Alice...she likes those who don't make objections when she tortures them by dressing them up..." he mumbled the last part, almost to himself. But I heard, and I choked on my juice when he mentioned dressing up.