Telepathy

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February 3rd, 2005

Linen sheets bound her porcelain legs together.  She swiped a finger across her brow, a pearl of water and salt falling against her flushed wrist. Her eyes raced to the far corner of the room that was unable to reach the bask of her dimly litted lamp. Eyes wild and wide, quickly adjusted to the shapes near her.

 He wasn't there.

But the subtle tremors of her limbs said otherwise. 

Chagrined at the dampness in the midst of her olive, green shorts, stuck to her thighs, she leaned on both of her elbows, her ribcage decompressing as she fell into the downy pillows. Bella closed her eyelids after flipping off the light. Then, she turned on her side, sinking into the thin mattress. 

Schwick.

Schwick.

Schwick.

Each minute passing on that blasted clock stuffed her ears. 

The gift of sleep would no longer come tonight, and four or five hours remained until school. A draft slipped through the cracked window. So, Bella sat upright, wrapping her arms around her knees. Rugged, woven fabric rasped against her hardened nipples. She suddenly felt hyperaware of her body. Was her coarse spaghetti-strap always this rough against her breasts?  Unwittingly, the warmth of her palms caressed her breasts, giving her a rude awakening as a jolt made its way inside her stomach and into her aching vulva.  

Her thighs squeezed together until they whitened with streaks of yellow.

A shallow breath escaped her lungs. 

Don't fantasize, Bella...don't... she scolded internally.  Get it under control. Don't think any more of him. Her petite chest rose and fell dramatically, breathing fluctuating as fast as the beat of hummingbird wings. At least, that's how she described the tightening in her chest. 

Any resolve that she obtained was long gone.

Nimble fingers slipped past the waistband of the olive shorts and her body settled further into the bed.

~

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. "I already told you I won't be in town during the Spring Dance, and I'm not sure if I want to attend prom,"  she nearly gritted out.  If her arm was long enough to deck Tyler through the window, she'd take a chance to give him an indentation of each knuckle in the mold of his flesh. 

You're overreacting, Bella! Chill out! 

Edward's laugh seemed to resonate from that annoying, shiny Volvo. Golden, sun-kissed eyes fastened to hers through his rearview mirror as if he had heard their whole conversation, or worse, read her mind. Could he read her obsessive thoughts of what had occurred hours ago in the comfort and confines of her bedroom? Pondering on the thought scared her more than having a bright, hot spot-light following her every movement as she tripped for the umpteenth time attempting to dance in front of the high school. The ground would meet her face before the night was over.

Edward's body was still convulsing in laughter. A little tap on the back of the shiny Volvo wouldn't hurt those pretentiously good-looking Cullens in the passenger seats. Her foot twitched on the brake. She had to stiffen her leg from traveling to the gas pedal. 

But soon, the Cullens were speeding away, and she was finally able to pull out of the parking lot. 

Only her faint mutterings could be heard over the static of the radio as the Chevrolet made its way home. 

Chicken Enchiladas, she decided when she walked into the kitchen. A nice, long process to keep her mind off of the events of today less she wished to be sent to the hospital again. 

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