SO CLOSE, YET SO FAR
A/N: I don't own anything Twilight. I just own some action figures.
I see her standing there, every day. Not near enough for me to touch, but close enough for me to see everything. Her dainty feet, peeking out from underneath her dress. Her bangs curl out from her hat, which makes me long for her to remove it and let her hair hang down. The strings of her jacket are tied just below her breasts in such a way that they pop out to say hello. The top of her jacket is tied underneath her chin, puckering open enough for her cleavage to show. I've looked at that cleavage every day for months. It calls to me. I want to bury my nose there, taking in her scent.
She taunts me with her looks, her body. She's a little minx, knowing exactly what she does to me. I imagine that her as a sex kitten, just waiting to be turned into a tiger by the right man. I could be that man. I want to be that man. I want her in a way I've never wanted anyone else. Is it because of her proximity? Is it because she is, at present, unattainable? What is it, exactly, that makes me ache for her?
He is a rogue. Certainly, at the very least, a scoundrel. It's his hair. Unkempt. Bronzed. Unusual. My mother warned me to stay away from men like him.
Yet, I cannot help myself. I find myself frequently glancing his way, trying so hard not to be discovered. I'm completely undone by the very nature of my lascivious gaze. His features are, admittedly, rather beautiful. His jaw is quite angular. His brows are striking; so thick, they lend him an air of intensity. His nose is straight and modest in size. His lips, oh, I should hardly write about those…but how can I resist? His bottom lip is full, and a lovely shade of pink. Sometimes, at night, when I know he is asleep, I think about what it would be like to have those lips upon mine. It's scandalous, I know. The scoundrel draws me in like a siren song. I try so hard to resist his charms every day, but it's becoming increasingly difficult.
His attire is definitely strange. He is always clad in the same uniform: Dark trousers, blue shirt, gray riding jacket. Sometimes, if I look carefully enough, I can see a tuft of hair sneaking out from the top of his shirt. I know I should not ogle him so, but I cannot help myself. I am, after all, a young lady. It is only natural that I should fancy an attractive young man, even if he is a scoundrel.
At the end of the day, however, the scoundrel is aloof, completely unaware of the way I pine for him. I fear his indifference will drive me to madness!
Why is it that she carries that feather in her hand? I've often wondered about that, but could never ask her directly. She won't even talk to me. I've tried in so many ways to get her attention, but she just won't have it. She always stands there, looking straight ahead, oblivious to my desires. I'm sure it's one of the things she read about in "The Rules." One of the myriad ways she has learned to drive me insane. How can she be so deliberately coy? Does she really have no idea how much she drives me wild? If only I could talk to her, I could explain how badly I want her.
The worst time of all is at night. I cannot sleep. I never sleep. I stand there, staring at her, wanting her. Taking in her scent, her figure, her aura. From the time the lights are turned off at night, and then back on again in the morning, I watch her. She doesn't move, she doesn't breathe. It's as though she's stuck in time. If only she would let me in, I could help her breathe. I could help her feel. She would finally know just what it means to be alive. Joyously, drunkenly, vividly alive. I could make her body sing to me, I could unleash a fury of lust that would make poets want for words. My lovely, lovely lady, why are you so cold?
I'm so fearful at present. I have been found out. I'm certain of it. On the evening last, as I scandalously gazed in his direction, I noticed a small movement. I nearly gasped, but held steadfast, so as not to be discovered. I stood still as stone, not daring to move a muscle. My eyes, however, moved to their periphery, taking in his countenance. What I saw nearly brought me to ruin. The young man moved his trousers! I know this is what I saw! And then, when I thought he had finally quieted and gone to sleep, I turned my head, very slightly, and saw that he was staring at me! The beautiful young man whom I have admired from afar had his gaze fixed upon me! To verify my suspicions, I looked away from him, then once again, I looked upon him—and his eyes caught mine! Oh, joy! He was looking at me! The beautiful and strange rogue was looking at me! I could not help myself, but I smiled at him. I fear this will prove to be my undoing.
Shit! She caught me staring at her! Why do I indulge myself? Now, I'm sure to scare her off. I hope to hell she didn't see me adjusting myself. That will turn her off instantly. She did look back at me, with trepidation written all over her face, but she smiled at me. It was so small as to be imperceptible, but I'm sure of it—she did smile. Could it be she is interested in me, too? All too soon, morning came, and with it, the ever present fluorescent lights. They make my skin look so pasty and cold. She will probably never smile at me during the day. I can only count the hours until night returns, and I can see that smile once again.
Suddenly, a large cardboard box is placed in front of me, cutting off my view of her! What cruel fate has intervened to take away my access to her? Just as I was making progress, just as I was cataloging that smile, it is gone forever. It's my punishment for being a monster. She could never love someone like me. I've been deluding myself for far too long. It is better this way. I was lulled into a false happiness that I did not deserve. Goodbye, my lady. You will always be my one, true love, even if I never gaze upon you again.
Oh, cruel world! To take away my one true light, the one thing that keeps me afloat during the dreary days and nights of my existence! Oh, unhappy moment! I am undone, I am horribly, scandalously undone! I must say goodbye to my hopes and dreams. This beautiful rogue was not meant for me. To think I was so shameful as to smile at the stranger! It is best this way. I can escape the scandal to my family and remain intact. I will forever miss my beautiful scoundrel, but alas, he is but a memory to me now.
"Okay, Edward! It's moving day! Time to put you in the box for yet another summer. Just to throw you a bone, I'll make it worth your while. I'll make sure Jane sits next to you in there. It's the least I can do after you entertained my classes all year!"
What? She's putting me in a box?
"Ms. Austen, my dear, same goes for you. I know you've been such a good girl, and that you never got married, so I'll give you Edward to play with over the summer. He's a hot dude, but watch yourself—he's out for blood. Know what I mean?"
Oh my word! The beautiful scoundrel!
"Hello, I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to introduce myself. I'm Edward Cullen. You're Jane?"
"Are you enjoying the weather?"
"Oh dear. We're going to talk about the weather?"
"I guess we are."
"Then I fear our time together shall be of a long and arduous duration."
"I'm no good for you, Jane, but I can't stay away from you any more."
"Then do not."
"Oh, Jane! I won't!"
"Oh, Edward! My own!"
"I've waited a lifetime for you."
"And I, you."
END NOTE: This is dedicated to my faithful reader Sareliz, author of the fic The Day the Earth Stood Still. She thought it would be a hoot to write a FF piece about my Edward Cullen and Jane Austen action figures. This crackfic is all for you, bb.