Open hearts(Twilight Ménage) *discontinued*

Odd yet similar

A/N: I hope you enjoy!

Bella's Pov:

The handwriting somehow fit him perfectly, I could only image how long it took him to get that perfect, every time. I bit my lower lip as I wondered if I should write anything back, but decided that it would be better to get my work done first. As I worked on filling out the worksheet, I felt Edward's gold eyes glance at me, even with my hair acting as a barrier between us.

Through the strands of my hair, I could tell that Edward eyes weren't filled with hate as they had been that first day. They only held curiosity, just as they had earlier. Soon enough, I realized that his glances corresponded to every time I started to write a new sentence on the worksheet. Was he hoping that I was replying to his little note? How can hate turn to curiosity so fast? Could it have to do with my friendship with Alice?

I bit my lower lip in an attempt to free my mind from thoughts regarding Edward Cullen. I forced solely on my work and finished faster than I thought I should have. I double checked my work, twice before I even looked to the note that Edward passed me again. I shifted in my seat in such a way that Edward couldn't see what I wrote back on his little note.

I reread what he wrote, before I thought about what I should write. Would a normal girl be able to remember the question he asked before? I wrote and scribbled out words until they were a blob of black ink, over and over. Each blob taking up the space of two or three words on a new line,until I finally settled on this:

Answer my questions first, then I'll answer yours. Do you hate me? If so, go suck a egg. If not, why did you glare at me like that last monday?

I picked up the paper and placed it on Edward's side of the table. I looked up at the projection to see that there was book work that needed to get done, for those who have already finished the worksheets. I started to do that as a distraction from wondering what answers Edward would give me. If any at all. Which would be very annoying, kinda like been left on read while texting. The work did it's job a bit too well, since I didn't notice that Edward passed back the page, until I nearly knocked it off the table. I moved the page on the other side of me and read what he wrote:

I don't hate you, Bella. I just wasn't in a good mood that entire day, I glared at everyone. I apologize  for my previous behavior, I'll try to keep my glaring to a minimum. You know, you could of just used a pencil, to erase your false starts. It would have saved so much room. Do you always use such colorful langanue?

I bit my lower lip as I thought about how to response to this. That's when I wondered, why we weren't just having a hushed conversation instead of passing notes. I suppose Edward was concerned about being a distraction to the other students, or getting poor marks by the professor for speaking in class. I felt my cheeks flush a bit as his last question, it made me feel like, he's making fun of me.

I ranked a hand through my hair, glancing at Edward before I allowed my hair to fall back into place. Those few seconds granted me the sight of Edward, his eyebrows pulled together as his eyes closed tightly then, his nostrils flared then, he swallowed. I wondered what caused him to make such an expression. Was it me? Did he lie when he wrote he didn't hate me? Or maybe I'm just thinking too hard and he's having trouble with the work? I looked down at the note and decided to write a response:

Did you intend to fill up the entire page with questions and answers? My choice of writing untiental is none of your business, if you want to fight about it, we can. Just tell me the time and place. Same goes for my 'colorful' langue.

I handed him the paper, noticing how his expression was one of contectraction on his work. Which just so happened to be book work, he was actually a few problems ahead of me. I went back to the book work, not wanting to lose against him at getting work done. The low, quiet chuckle he let out after a few moments, warmed my chest in an odd way. Odd yet similar. Through the strands of my dark brown hair I could see Edward looking at the sheet of paper that we were passing back and forth.