Summary: Afraid to divorce his wife, Edward decides to hire professional Casanova, Jacob, to seduce Bella into leaving him. But as the two develop feelings for each other, Edward finds himself falling for Bella all over again.
Author's Note: Wow, it's been a while, yeah? I haven't posted or updated anything in about two years. But I was going through some old documents and found this little ditty in a folder labled 'Incomplete Story Ideas' along with about twenty other plot ideas that I started and completely forgot about and thought, hey, why not?
.
.
Seducing Mrs. Cullen
.
.
Mahogany hair falling past her shoulder blades in luscious waves, she uses one pale hand to brush the strands that obscure her face behind an unpierced ear. She still hasn't looked up yet, her lashes casting a shadow over her eyes and sweeping across the delicate structure of her cheekbones. She isn't wearing anything particularly attention grabbing but he notices how delicate and becoming she looks in the blue lace that she dons.
Slowly, and with extreme caution she places down the stack of textbooks onto the lab bench, an action that seems unwarranted to him as they were hardly fragile. But the cautious action no longer holds any mystery as he watches her slip forward slightly and bash her hip against the side of her bench- she was quite clumsy and very much aware of it, apparently.
The soft curse she utters surprises him for a moment before he decides it's rather endearing considering her anger made her look like a wet kitten who was ready to try out their new and still soft claws. He doesn't realise that he's smiling, but she does. Her lips turn down and the air about her buzzes with her cute anger and then she's glaring at him with eyes of-
Oh.
Umber eyes. Beautiful umber eyes. Soul stealing eyes. Heart stealing eyes.
Before he can even take a moment to remind himself that he just made himself look like a jerk, he's leaning in close to her.
"Hello, my name is Edward Cullen."
Her glare doesn't let up, but she's far too polite to ignore social customs and with a small nod she speaks. "Bella."
Bella.
.
.
.
All the girls of Forks High School stare and whisper to their friends as he sits at the table that the entirety of the school populace know as the 'Cullen table.' Their colourless eyes track his face, the subtle lines of his arms in the blue sweater he wears and the slim muscles beneath his dark slacks, but not her, not Bella. Instead, she sits surrounded by boys but only paying attention to her quiet friend, Angela.
Something dark and uncomfortable churns low in his stomach- not once has she glanced his way, when all other girls have yet to take their eyes from him and he is very new to jealousy. New to everything since the arrival of Bella Swan.
Edward tries to look away but only manages to twist his neck slightly to the left of her before he is quickly drawn back by the sound of her laughter. He isn't being very subtle, obviously, as his brother juts a brawny arm into his side. Irritated at having to look away, Edward turns a frown upon his older brother.
Emmet, looking far too pleased with himself, simply slumps back into his chair. His large form makes the white, plastic chair of the cafeteria look like something out of a barbie doll house- far too small for any human being.
Still frowning, he's tempted to ask why Emmet felt the need to assault him but quickly decides he'd much rather stare pathetically at Bella than interact with his ape of a brother. His siblings, having joined the table at some point- more than likely while he was focusing on Bella's laugh- all snickered in delight.
"Well," came the bell-like tones of his sister, Alice, "At least we can be sure he's not gay now."
Edward wants to turn and growl, to defend himself in this almost life-long argument about his sexuality, but is frozen still when he notices that Bella was now staring at him. Umber eyes look into green and two faces catch fire.
.
.
.
Biology is his favourite class- the material his boring and repetitive, he knows it all already thanks to his father the doctor, the teacher is too stoic yet intrusive but biology is Edward's favourite class because for forty-five minutes, three times a week, he sits next to Bella and simply talks to her.
Sometimes they speak of inconsequential things, like the weather- he still cringes out of habit when he thinks of his awkward conversation starter- or their classes. But there are times when she'll lean into him and whisper about her dreams for the future or he'll bend low and talk about his insecurities and when they pull apart, it feels like they've left a little piece of themselves with the other.
He talks about his father and his adopted father, Carlisle and how he wishes that he'd spent less time wanting to be like the first and more like the second and more loving parent. She sits there quiet and respectful when he tells her about his late mother- how she'd begged Carlisle to take him in. Bella offers him no sympathies or condolences, but her slim hand settled above his own is comforting.
She speaks about her need for independence- the result of an erratic mother. Her fears and worries- she is terrified of leaving her father the way her mother did and what it might result in. She lets slip how often she feels caged and spinning in every direction yet not going anywhere.
They talk for forty-five minutes, three days a week.
They talk and…
What's happening to him?
.
.
.
The day of the crash he was where he always was on school mornings- standing across the parking lot and staring at Bella Swan. She's pretty in the snow, with ice crystals gleaming in her hair and her nose pink from the cold. Everything about her makes him want to wrap her up tight and warm. There are faint traces of shadows under her eyes and he wonders what kept her up the night before. Homework? Family troubles? Nightmares? Did she dream of him, think about him as much as he thought about her?
She still hadn't looked up, her eyes glued firmly to the slick ground beneath her, ready to catch herself before she could slip. Her eyes were cast down and in both ears there sat two earbuds, drowning out the sound of oncoming death.
But Edward could see it and he could hear it. The screech of tires against ice and with an almost dull sense of panic, he noticed the van was making it's way towards Bella.
Not her.
His shoes slipped against the ice beneath him as he pushed off the side of his car.
Not her.
His heart was beating crazily in his ears and he caught the moment she noticed something was wrong. Bella looked up, slowly, as if not sure if she wanted to know the reason for the strange thrill she felt in the air. Her face contorted in confusion when she spotted him vaulting towards her.
Move, please move. You can't…we've only just…we haven't…I need…I just found you…you can't…
His hand wrapped around her waist and before he could really think about it, he was throwing her across the small lane with strength he didn't know he possessed and shielding her using his own body. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that the dull smack he'd just heard was Bella's skull hitting the side walk.
But panic had him holding her close even as the van sailed past them and into Bella's truck. He should have checked the driver, made them the first priority and yet he found his hands running over Bella instead. He slowly weaved his fingers through her hair- soft and strawberry scented- prodding her scalp and searching for injuries.
Up until that point he hadn't noticed that her eyes had been closed, but he did when her lashes shivered and her eyes blinked open slowly. Perfect umber once more peered into green and all the air in his lungs slipped away.
"You saved me. You risked your life to save me," she breathed in wonderment.
Oh.
Something was in her eyes, something that wasn't there before and whatever it was, it held him in place and made him want to melt into rays of light and provide life to all living things- so they too could have the chance to feel this enchanting, empowering feeling in the centre of his chest. The world shattered and remade itself around him in one moment.
Oh.
So this is…
Nothing like a car crash to make a boy realise he's in love.
.
.
.
The years flash by in a series of perfectly soft memories, each moment filled with the warmth and sweetness of stumbling along the path of love – the first for each of them. And there's no one else, there never will be. Not for him and not for her. They have their moments, amongst the constant barrages of 'it's just puppy love, it will never last' and 'they're too different'. They fought about everything and anything and soothed each other's wounds with sweet kisses and apologies. They learnt from each other – they made each other better, want to be better.
So to no one's surprise, the very day after graduating from Fork's High School, one Edward Cullen, was found down on one knee with a pathetically hopeful expression on his face and a stunning ring in his hands. What was surprising, however, was the subsequent rejection.
"Bella, why?"
"Did you know, one in two marriages end in divorce, Edward? If I marry you, one day you'll wish you'd never produced a ring and that will be the day you stop loving me."
He chuckles, shaking his head with all the naivety of a child, "Oh Bella, I could never stop loving you." Sincere words from a foolish boy.
He misses her smile completely, the smile of the resigned, the jaded and the knowing.
.
.
.
"Promise me it's forever, Edward. Swear to me that I haven't just agreed to unavoidable heartbreak."
"What can I do to prove to you that I want you for all of 'forever'?"
"Spend the next eighty years in love with me and I'll be convinced for what's left of 'eternity'"
He chuckles, that bright, beautiful, boyish grin of his – the one she has become addicted to. "Deal."
.
.
.
They're married in the fall, though you could hardly tell with the woods being entirely in bloom. Flowers in all pastel shades dotted the lush foliage of lining shrubs and tall, scented trees. Candles that lined the aisles provided soft lighting and cast the landscape in a dreamy glow.
And when the music began, Edward watched as his heart and future stumbled towards him in swathes of white lace – and he wondered to himself, how could he not love this woman? And he swore upon the stars above, so clear in the dark sky that he would never forget this feeling, the triumph, the pounding in his chest, the warmth, the dizzying breathlessness, the glow in her umber eyes – he wouldn't forget a single thing.
.
.
.
But the world makes liars of us all.