A Love Story (If You Let it)
(Inspired by that one tumblr post I saw years ago suggesting that Twilight wouldn’t have ended the way it did if Bella were conscious of the type of story she was in.)
It could be a love story. It could be the dark, mysterious boy in her class setting his eyes on her. It could be her looking back. It could be the pounding of hearts, sweaty palms, secrets in all the dark corners this town has to offer.
It could be a lot of things, but it’s never going to be more than a “story.” Dressed up and sanitized so that people can parse it, learn from it, take from it. It will never be her history or her dreams, never be her life or her purpose. It will always be a tale, tall or small, and she can’t forget that.
No matter how much he wants her to.
He laces their fingers together, his cold palm to her human heat. “I love you.”
She wishes she could exist in her body and believe that. She’s still a teenager and she wants love, connection, and intimacy. Growing pains and bleeding hearts with the promise of happy endings and worthwhile lessons.
Her mind, however, is a little too old to let the surface appearance pass for reality.
“I’d spend forever with you if I could,” she tells him. She means it. She would spend forever in the cold embrace of his arms, in the sphere of his love, if it really existed all for her. He takes it differently than she means.
“Maybe that will be possible,” he says slowly. He lets go of her hand to slide his arm over her shoulders, pulling her against his strong chest. “One day.”
She can practically taste how the thought excites him. He wants to change her to be like him—immortal and timeless.
After two months, she still doesn’t know if this is a story she’s willing to let play out.
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