And then she pulled away, and I felt empty. I couldn't understand it, because I'd never felt complete enough to feel empty, but didn't dwell on the feelings that filled me.

She smiled.

"Edward."

It wasn't a question, so I didn't answer, and she was content in just closing her eyes, and staring at nothing. I wondered if she was trying to piece all that she had felt together in her mind, into a picture … but I didn't ask. I didn't want to shatter the beautiful silence.

"Edward. You're beautiful," she breathed, and I shook my head.

"No," I disagreed, briefly wondering if it was a good thing for a guy to be 'beautiful'. "You are beautiful."

Color flooded her cheeks again, and she ducked her head, almost as if she was trying to escape my intense gaze. And then she looked back up, and her eyes met mine, and there was so much emotion shining in her gaze that I was sure, in that moment, that she could see everything that surrounded her. And her hand took mine, and she smiled.

"Thank you," she whispered, and I was confused.

"For what?"

"For making me happy. For making me smile. I haven't been happy in so long. But your voice alone, and your touch — and I can't explain it — made my heart soar."

I grinned a very goofy grin.

"You're welcome, then. Can I see you again soon?" I asked, for I knew, though I didn't want to, that I would have to leave soon. She nodded.

"I come here every night. I'll be here if you will."

I nodded again. I didn't want to leave. But I knew it was getting to be very late. And though I wanted to stay out as late as possible just to anger my father, I knew it would make both my mother and little Alice to worry.

"I have to leave now," I said, and saying those five simple words hurt so much more then they should have.

"Goodbye, then, Edward," she whispered, and she closed her blind eyes. I was about to turn and run, but I couldn't, because there was one thing I needed to know before I left her.

"Your name," I breathed, and it was all I could manage."

"Hmm?" she asked, as though she didn't understand.

"What is your name? Please tell me," I begged, for I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep, or concentrate, until I had a name to fit with the beautiful face I knew would never fade from my mind.

"Bella," she finally whispered, and I smiled again.

"Bella," I repeated softly.

Bella. It was Italian. It meant beautiful. It fit so well.

And no more words were needed. So I turned, and I ran. I ran and I ran, not caring where I was going. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Because the only thing that mattered now was her.

Bella.

NEXT CHAPTER:

She wasn't there. She had promised, yet she hadn't come. I wondered briefly if something was wrong, and then I realized the more probable reason.

She didn't care for me as I cared for her.