Derivative Twilight Fanfic
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She misses the lazy, languid days of summer. What she remembers most is the smell of his leather jacket as they lay on the old, ratty blanket, gazing up at the stars and their brilliant illumination.
It was brown, his jacket, but it had turned black with the rain that summer. It smelt like stale cigarette smoke and grease and too much of his father's cologne. It was her favorite scent in the entire world.
As they lay that night staring up at the glowing orbs in the midnight sky, she would rest her head on his chest, and his leather-clad arm would wind around her slight form, holding onto her like nothing in the world could pull them apart.
Because she was his Bella, and he was her Edward. They simply were— and were always meant to be— forever.