Renewal [Emmett Cullen] (1)

[08- Thoughts]

Emmett was a huge football fan. Like me, he didn't root for a particular team, but rather just enjoyed the game.

He was such an optimistic person, through our conversations I could feel his passion and drive to live every moment to its fullest. It was inspiring to be around him, I wanted to be a better person. I couldn't remember the last time I had genuinely laughed. I never admitted it to my parents but I was actually hurting a lot more than I let on. Even though I somewhat accepted my paralysis and the repercussions of it, I felt fragmented and broken. I lost a fundamental part of myself and wasn't sure if I could ever get it back, but Emmett had this peculiar ability to erase, or at least lessen the pain I was feeling. He was always cracking jokes, flashing a set of perfect, ultra white teeth. Sometimes he even laughed at his own jokes, something I use to do with my friends back in California.

But I was still in disbelief that I, with my unfortunate circumstances, had managed to engross this bizarre, beautiful boy who may or may not despise me.

It was hard for me to stop talking to him when school ended, but I was going to see him tomorrow since the weekend was coming up. Mom helped me in the car, buckling my seat belt before returning to the driver's side.

"So I have somewhat exciting news," I announced as we pulled onto the main road towards the house, "Emmett, Dr. Cullen's kid is coming over tomorrow." Her face lit up, I continued quickly before she could jump to erroneous conclusions, "First, let me just say its not a date. Second, he's coming over so we can do our chemistry assignment."

"Well if Emmett is anything like the doctor its fine. So polite, handsome...", mom squealed.

I gasped, a smirk itching in the crease of my mouth, "You're married, he's married!"

"Its fine honey. Your dad thinks he's good looking as well. Everyone in the hospital finds it difficult to concentrate around him."

I shoved my forehead into my palms, hoping that this car ride would be over so I could preserve what little sanity I had left.

When we arrived home, I dumped my bag in my room and messaged Emmett my address and what time he could come over. 10 sounded good, enough time for me to sleep in and look some what presentable. We could work on the report until the game at 2. Dad and mom were going hiking for their first weekend together in Oakridge so we would have the house to ourselves. I was uncertain if that was intentional.

The next day, I woke up unusually earlier, the air felt cooler than it did yesterday. I retrieved my navy blanket that draped over the headboard and wrapped myself up like a burrito. My attempts of falling back asleep were futile, so I would have to function with 4 hours. Thanks again nightmares.

It was only 8, so I had plenty of time to eat, a favorite hobby of mine. I wheeled to the kitchen. Mom had left a small note on the counter, "Have fun". I rolled my eyes, she seemed more excited than I was. As I prepared my usual scrambled eggs, I became more apprehensive about Emmett coming over. Of course I was looking forward to seeing him and once I made the decision, I simply followed through — usually with relief that the choice was made. Sometimes the relief was tainted by despair, like my snowballing fear that I would embarrass myself beyond repair. But it was still better than wrestling with the alternatives.

The rest of the morning went smoothly, I finished eating, brushed my teeth, and got changed.

I could feel my anxiety levels building, questions flooded my mind in waves. What if I made a fool of myself? What if I said something stupid? Since the accident, my life had been plagued with me second guessing myself. Was I, as a person really worth talking to? In my head, the answer was always no but Emmett thought differently. I switched on the TV, something boring and monotonous could help flush those thoughts out of my mind, at least temporarily.

A confident knock at the door suspended my thoughts. My eyes widened as I answered the door. I looked up and noticed that he wore no jacket himself, even though it was freezing outside. Just a light gray V-neck shirt with long sleeves. The fabric clung to his perfectly muscled chest. It was a colossal tribute to his body that it kept my eyes away from his face for so long. Slung loosely from his broad shoulders was a black backpack with a fancy label that I had never heard of.

"Hi Eleanor. I brought all my notes on the topic," he told me, holding up a stuffed manila envelope. I led him to the dining room and we divided up the work.