A/N: Okay, so I may have asked a trick question when I asked you all to guess the next chapter title. But I got some great answers! Mr Banner was a popular choice, as was Jacob. There were some interesting guesses too, like Jessica or Lauren. But of course, there's only one person Edward will be fixated on in this chapter... and no, it's not Mike Newton.

This was it.

Lunch was over. Alice, Jasper, Emmett, Rosalie and I had each gone our separate ways. I knew I'd have to endure a whole hour of Emmett's taunting presence in Spanish next period. But that seemed like heaven compared to what was waiting for me behind this door.

Bella.

I took a deep breath to control myself.

And then I walked into the classroom.

The girl wasn't there yet. I relaxed, let go of the breath I'd been holding, and made my way towards our desk, still keeping my mind trained on the door, waiting for Angela Weber to appear. I knew without a doubt that the girl would be with her.

But I was wrong.

Barely a moment after I'd sat down, the girl stumbled into the classroom before any of her peers, glancing over her shoulder as she did so. I watched through my peripheral vision as she made her way towards our desk, muttering to herself as she did so. Three seconds before she came too close, I stopped breathing. There could be no more mistakes today.

"...and no, for goodness sake, for the last time..."

The girl slammed her bag onto the table with a loud huff. Her exaggerated movements swept up the air around me. I forced myself not to move an inch, lest her scent engulf me in its terrible clutches.

"...Newton... stupid puppy-dog charade... I don't need... pathetic..."

She tugged so violently on the zip of her rucksack that it broke, her possessions flying everywhere as the bag tumbled to the floor between us.

We both stared in silence at the bag.

"Crap," she muttered. Her cheeks – no, her whole face – heated to a delicious shade of pink, blood pooling beneath the skin. As she shuffled off to collect the strewn books and pens, I bent down and reached for her bag. There was a slight tear in one corner. Either she was carrying far too many books around with her, or she'd used an impressive amount of force in her anger. I suspected the former. Even half-empty, her bag felt heavy (at least for a human to carry), and it was impossible to think of Isabella Swan as forceful. She was too delicate for that.

I was proved correct as she tripped lightly back to our desk, hands full of heavy hard-backed books. From the corner of my eye, I saw her do a double take as she noted the bag I'd replaced on her side of the desk.

"Thanks," she muttered.

I nodded, eyes straight ahead, refusing to give in to the overwhelming temptation to look in her direction.

"And... I'm sorry... for earlier," she added tentatively. "I wasn't looking where I was going... I was too busy trying to escape..."

She trailed off, leaving me with yet more questions I desperately wanted to ask her. I settled for another nod. I thought back to our encounter earlier. In my own panic, I hadn't noticed that she was running too. Which of her many suitors had she disliked? She certainly seemed to be expressing outrage towards the Newton boy now. For some inexplicable reason, it made me glad that she was showing such displeasure towards at least one of them. I smiled.

"Oh," the girl gasped suddenly. She sounded horrified.

I frowned. She had frozen whilst rummaging through her bag. What was wrong with her? What had happened? I had to know what had caused her fright. Still, unable to breath or speak in such close proximity to her blood, I couldn't ask her. Instead, I inched my chair backwards and peered over her shoulder (trying desperately to ignore the heat from her body) to glance into her schoolbag.

And then I snorted.

It seemed that I hadn't been the only victim of an unwanted Valentines' Day gift. She was glaring with horror and revulsion at the small, bent chocolate box stuffed in the bottom of her backpack.

At my noise, Bella turned to look at me. She seemed startled to see me so close. I realised I was still hovering over her shoulder and drew back quickly.

She didn't avert her gaze.

"Hi, Bella!"

Mike Newton gave her a small, timid wave as he passed. He was obviously still a little bitter about her rejection earlier, because he didn't stop to linger at our table as he usually did. Thank God. If he'd stopped, I wasn't sure that I'd have the strength to resist breaking each of his fingers, one by one...

Bella looked away from me, smiling weakly at the Newton boy. Shoving the chocolates as far out of sight as she possibly could, she pulled a pen and notebook from her bag, once again acting as though she were unaware of my presence.

But she'd looked at me. At me. Usually she ignored me completely. It was as if I didn't exist. But today... she'd spoken... and she'd looked at me. Why?

I glanced over at her bag again. Had it just been my reaction to her unwanted gift that had caused that fleeting look? I remembered the sly, surreptitious way she'd moved; her eyelids hooded as she peeked at me from the very corner of her eyes, as if she were unwilling to acknowledge me, but just couldn't help herself.

She'd seemed... embarrassed? Nervous? Hopeful?

And I'd been sitting right next to her. Her bag had been at my feet when I'd crouched down... and I'd picked it up...

Maybe, I realised, maybe she'd wondered whether it was from me.

I snorted aloud.

No, that was ridiculous. Surely she'd realised that. If I'd brought her a valentine, it wouldn't have been a tacky, half-price box of chocolates. Bella deserved much more. Something of simple extravagance, unique, just like her...

And now my train of thought was becoming dangerous, yet again. I took a deep breath, and focused on containing my thirst rather than thinking of the girl herself.

Mr Banner scurried in, with the last few students. The following commotion helped to clear my head a bit as our teacher began to speak. Biology. Focus on biology. Pathogens. Lymphocytes. Easy, straightforward work I could concentrate on. I began to take notes and I heard the girl beside me do the same.

It took less than ten minutes to figure out who the box of chocolates in Bella's bag was from. Mike Newton's mind was far from the lesson Mr. Banner was teaching. He was wondering if she'd seen them yet – if she'd realise they were from him. He'd casually asked her about her favourite kind a few days ago, hoping that she'd make the connection...

I halted. Beside me, Bella's steadily scratching pen had stopped moving.

What was wrong with her?

I wrote a few more sentences as Mr. Banner droned on. Bella didn't. She dropped her pen and slumped forward, rubbing her hands across her eyes in a gesture I had come to associate with weariness.

I tried not to wonder why.

And failed.

I knew I should ignore her. But the chocolates were still at the forefront of my mind. That tiny, niggling thought just wouldn't go away. It was eating me up, twisting and churning away. I had to do something. Say something. Whether her weariness had anything to do with the present in her bag or not, the selfish part of me couldn't let Bella believe that I would send her something so tasteless and cheap.

The words spilled out of my mouth in a rush. "Are you okay?"

She jumped. She jumped so high, I heard her knees hit the top of our desk. If I wasn't so concerned, it might have been funny.

She turned to stare at me.

"I'm sorry?"

I could hear Alice laughing, three classrooms away.

"I... was wondering if you were okay," I repeated, feeling foolish.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"I mean" – she blushed, shaking her head vehemently, as if to clear some intriguing thought from her mind – "I mean, thanks. And yes, I'm fine. I'm used to crashing into people."

Distracted as I was, both by her blush and my longing to hear these thoughts she so desperately wanted rid of, it took me a few seconds to realise her mistake.

"No, I mean... now. Are you okay now?"

She frowned. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You seem uncharacteristically tense today."

"It's been a strange day."

I laughed. She could say that again.

She was staring at me still. I realised that the simple question I'd planned to ask had somehow constructed itself into something resembling a conversation. And that was wrong. I'd vowed never to speak to this girl ever again.

I looked away.

"That's good then," I muttered, feeling even more idiotic.

"Yeah." She sighed, as if our strange conversation had only upset her even more. And then she turned to face the front, ignoring me once more.

For some reason, her aloofness annoyed me.

I began thinking of ways to get her attention again. Nothing dangerous. Just harmless conversation. Now that I'd exchanged a few words with her, I had to have more. I'd thought her scent was appealing beyond belief, but it seemed that I had a new drug now.

I had to speak to the girl. But with that came more difficulties. I'd run out of air. I would have to breathe in. Cursing my stupidity – why was I intentionally torturing myself in this way? – I gripped the edge of our desk for support, lifted my jacket to my nose to dilute the scent as best as I possibly could, and carefully breathed in.

Ahhh.

The call of her scent was so appealing that it caused physical pain. Not just from the usual burning in my throat, but from the effort it took to restrain myself. My muscles were tensed so tightly that I felt they would shred through my very skin. It seemed that the scent had only intensified since I'd last allowed myself to savour it. Her very essence seemed to saturate the room and I wondered how it was impossible that the humans around her didn't smell it too. Surely even their dull senses would pick up on something so potent? It amazed me that none of her suitors seemed to have picked up on it.

I calculated the exact amount of air I would need to speak to the girl. Nothing more. I cut myself off from the source of such pain and pleasure as quickly as possible.

And then I realised that I had no idea what I should say to her.

"Bella," I began stupidly. Her name fell from my lips in a desperate sigh. Did she hear the desperation in my voice? Did she understand what it meant? And if so, could she tell me what it was?

I heard a small gasp. She turned to look at me. Her eyes were wide. Deep. Unfathomable.

I knew what I wanted to say, of course. I wanted to tell her that Mike Newton had spent less money on her 'present' than he had spent on his lunch today. I wanted to tell her that she deserved far better than anyone in this town – than anyone I'd ever encountered. I wanted to ask her why I felt so conflicted whenever I thought of her sad, small face...

But I didn't have enough air to voice all the thoughts running through my mind. And I doubted she'd want to hear everything I had to say. So I settled with awkward simplicity.

"If I were Mike Newton," I muttered, not sure whether I was speaking to the girl or myself. "I would have put some more effort into a present. I would have offered something better. More valuable. More... sentimental."

She stared at me. And this time, I didn't look away. I stared back, letting myself look, letting myself feel... something. Some nameless, unidentifiable emotion surged within me. Try as I might, I couldn't place it. It was part unhappiness, part joy. Part anger, part composure. Whatever it was, it was complex. I'd never felt it before. And it made me feel so... human.

It was so foreign, I didn't think even Jasper would be able to identify my feelings in that moment.

She nodded slowly. I think we both realised that I had no intention of saying another word to her today, or at all in the future. I'd already broken my one rule by even allowing myself to look in her direction.

And then she smiled; a shy, breathtaking smile that seemed to light up the whole room and the dreary, cloudy day outside. She didn't smile fully; just a small twitch of her mouth to one side. But I found myself imagining a full smile lifting her cheeks because of me and I knew that it didn't matter what it was that I might feel for this girl. I knew that it didn't matter that I would continue to ignore her tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. For the moment, none of it mattered.

Because Isabella Swan had smiled at me.

And for the first time that day – the first time in weeks – I walked to my Spanish class with a smile on my face.

A/N: Reviews make Cuteward even happier. :)

Next up: Epilogue. Very short epilogue!