Until the Moon Burns

I glanced back at him, and he nodded. I took that as my cue to continue, so I thought fast.
“I have Chemistry next with Miss Peterson, and I have no idea where that is...they really should have given me a map,” I smiled in what I hoped was a nice way, but it was wiped off my face quickly as he did nothing. “So could you show me the way? Please.” Manners, Audrey! I reminded myself, but he had nodded. In agreement? I hoped so, and he set off at a quicker pace than he had before, to keep me away from him? I noticed he hadn’t taken a breath in a while, so I decided to test him.
“Why are you holding your breath? I don’t smell, honest,” I gave a small laugh, knowing how I smelled to him. It took a lot of self control to stop himself killing me, and I appreciated it. He pretended to breathe, his chest moving too obviously, and shrugged. He led me to a science lab and opened the door for me.
Chivalry was dead.
When had it died out? When was he from? I was dying to know, but I kept myself to myself. I entered the lab, and he stayed outside, probably to take a breath without me contaminating it.
Maybe I could look up the name Edward, and see which year it had been the most popular. That would give me an indication. And then I could look up the surname Cullen, just to check out his history.
Wait, now I was a vampire stalker?
I shook my head, and stood at the back of the classroom. I introduced myself to the teacher, Miss Peterson, as he walked in.
Why was I so attractive in the wrong ways?
He really was breathtaking, even with his awkward, strained ways. As he put his bag down on his desk, I was both excited and anxious to see the only seat available was next to him. I was going to be close enough to touch him, to speak to him-but it wasn’t fair. Why should I torment him with my blood? Why did he have to be uncomfortable for an hour next to me? But then, on the other hand, why should I worry? He was what he was, and neither of us could change it.
“Mister Cullen!” Miss Peterson gasped in a girlish, flirtatious voice as he sat down.
I busied myself with my bag, feeling my blush. Did my voice sound like that? As I spoke to him, had I sounded as she had?
“Miss Peterson,” he replied coolly, in a smooth, deep voice that gave me shivers. I was secretly angry with myself-why was I so attracted to him? It was so wrong, unnatural.
“We have a new student, Mister Cullen. She’s going to be sitting next to you, okay?” Miss Peterson explained.
I bet she hated me, loathed me for sitting next to him, to that unearthly god.
I hated me too. His jaw clenched, as though he was about to retort, but whatever it was, he kept it to himself.
“Hey, sorry. I didn’t know she’d put me here,” I lied, needing something to say, taking a seat on the stool next to him. Even his scent was intoxicating, a musky mix of wood and fruit and a small hint of blood, but that was to be expected. He smelled wonderful.
I didn’t expect a reply. I could see he was pretending to breathe again, so I didn’t press him for a response.
He was such a gentleman, the way he opened the door for me, the way he guided me to Chemistry without hesitation (that wasn’t related to stopping himself from attacking me), it amazed me. It led me to believe he was about seventy, though I was probably wrong. It was probably older.
I ignored Miss Peterson talking about ionic bonding for the whole lesson, and instead, (what a waste of my time!) I sat gazing at him.
How could someone be so impossibly perfect?