You come to me like a little boy
And I give you my scorn and my praiseYou think Im like your mother
Or another lover or your sister
Or the queen of our dreams
Or just another silly girl
When love makes a fool of me
"Hey, Renee," she greeted me cheerfully, "how is my erratic, hair brained, right-hand girl on this sunny morning?"
I handed her the steaming mug - black, one NutraSweet, just as she liked it.
"Couldn't be any better, my dearest Esme – it's Friday, after all!"
She took a little sip and closed her eyes in bliss. "Mmmh... thanks for little blessings."
I really liked my boss; not just because she was as crazy about Twilight as I was. She was just a really nice person, good-humored, easy to be with and we got along really well. Beatrice Cruise was the coolest chief editor I ever had.
Yes, her name was not Esme, of course. As mine was not Renee, but Annie Portman.
We both shared a mild form of Twilight obsession; we loved the books and even more, the movie. It was just our little insider joke, naming ourselves and others after characters from Stephenie Meyer's novels - in private, that is.
Like Humphrey, the doorman - he was our Charlie, because he wore a blue uniform and even sported that terrible moustache. Or Fergus, our ace reporter. Ok - admittedly he didn't look like a Cullen at all with his thinning hair and glasses like bottle bottoms. But his mantra was "Relax!" so we secretly called him Jasper. And of course, brainless, blondie Barbara, the trainee from hell. Everybody called her Barbie for obvious reasons, but to us she was Rosalie. And to my greatest disdain, SHE looked exactly like a Cullen.
"So?" Beatrice grinned at me over the rim of her coffee cup. "Did you see Edward again?"
"Yep, in all his glory, like every Friday – and no..." I raised my hand, knowing her next question all too well, "...I didn't take his picture this time neither. Sorry, honey, he's mine and I do not intend to share, not even on my mobile display!"
She playfully punched my upper arm, pouting. "Too bad... maybe I'll find my own Edward this weekend?" With a girlish giggle, she turned to leave. "See you in the meeting room in a few..."
Kiddo... my other Friday morning goody.
I didn't like it when Beatrice referred to him as Edward. I mean, he was more Edward than a living young male could probably ever be. It felt wrong, however, to lump him in with doorman Charlie or office-bimbo Rosalie.
He was just too... special.
I didn't know his name, but in my mind I had called him Kiddo ever since the very first time I saw him on the Friday morning train, three months ago...
…It hadn't been one of my best mornings back then. After a quick and unsatisfactory fuck with Tom, my neighbor and occasional "friend with benefits", (Twilight name: James) I hadn't been able to sleep until 2 a.m. So I didn't get Eclipse out to read it, for the fifth time, as usual, but instead put on my sunglasses and leaned back in my seat, ready to take a little nap, as soon as the train engine rumbled to life.
Before I could close my eyes, I saw him...
Oh. My. God.
I'm not sure, but I think I gaped.
He was the most stunning living man... boy... I had ever seen.
Right there, opposite row, just two seats away.
He was reading, totally absorbed, so I could ogle him unhamperedly. I took off my shades.
He was all in black. Long legs in black drainpipe jeans, the black tee barely concealing the lean muscles and square shoulders underneath. He was just beautifully made. On the seat next to him lay a mess of black clothing which, with some effort, I identified as a hoodie, next to the most ridiculous backpack ever carried by a man: it was black too, but with pink and yellow polka dots. The only thing missing was a Hello Kitty patch.
But what attracted my attention the most was his face... his face was just unbelievable.
I could only see his semi-profile, but I admired the way the small muscles in his delicious masculine jawline were moving, emphasized by the velvety shade of a faint stubble - his gently curved lips slightly parted, as he raptly mouthed along with what he was reading.
I almost sighed aloud with frustration because I couldn't see his eyes, as he hadn't taken them off the book yet. They were hidden under long lashes most women would kill for.
I felt the urge to grab a piece of charcoal and draw his portrait right then. Or better, several portraits from different angles. His adorable face such a rare sight, I'd never seen a similar display of natural beauty before.
This must be how Bella felt at the first sight of Edward...
Ever since I'd seen the movie with Robert Pattinson, I couldn't imagine Edward in any other way. I had a huge crush on Rob - oh yes, this mama liked him a lot, and not only his hot looks. I liked to imagine him as a very special young man, with an awesome personality. Plus, he had a singing voice that made me weak in the knees. And did I mention he looked hot? I even had a Pattinson wallpaper on my office computer, to Beatrice's utmost pleasure.
To me, Rob Pattinson was the perfect dazzling vampire. But this boy was really something. An Edward, definitely. But then again not. He was blond, to start with, and much too tanned.
He raised a slender hand to his mouth and his tongue slid out to moisten a finger before he reached down to turn a page.
That was hot!
Had he even moved at all before this? Suddenly overcome by the realization that he was actually real, my heartbeat accelerated. I exhaled slowly through pursed lips and involuntarily shifted my weight a little in my seat.
Unable to take my eyes of him, I was wondering how he could not notice my stare. Weren't people supposed to somehow feel if you were staring at them? Like a tingling sensation or goosebumps or anything?
As if he had read my mind... (Sure!) … he raised his head for the first time, eyes darting around to scan the compartment and finally stopped, piercing into mine. For just one second, I caught a quick glance of a pair of spectacular green eyes. He hastily lowered his head, eyes back on the book, and blushed.
I almost couldn't believe what I had seen in that brief moment when he had fully faced me. He fucking looked like Robert Pattinson... the official surfer version, that is!
Holy shit! It's RPattz 2.0.!
He was noticeably feeling uncomfortable now, his whole body was tense. I could see, he pretended to read, but his mouth was pressed into a thin line now, unmoving.
Great, Portman – 30 seconds, and you already creeped him out...
I forced my eyelids down with some effort, but cast one last glance at him through my lashes.
No, he wasn't Edward. His skin showed a beautiful bronze tan as if he'd spent all his life, which meant twenty or twenty-two years - max, at some sunny beach. And his hair was tousled, but with a little indication of natural curls. The early morning sunshine, fractured by the trees tearing past the window, was flickering on his hair and it was literally sparkling in every possible shade of blond.
Wait – is he... sparkling!
Christ, Kiddo, you're breaking my heart...