We Meet Again(Cedric/Edward)

22-Hormonal Vampire

Edward
A romantic image presented itself to my mind. Its one and only subject was Sabrina, with her emerald orbs and dark locks.
That was what I remembered from my daydreaming session in biology class.
Once I'd smelled her scent, however, I found it was invading to such a degree that I had to stop breathing altogether during the rest of the time I'd spent sat next to her. For the full 55 minutes, I waited impatiently for her gentle orbs to throw if only a glance at me—but they never did. She completely effaced me from her line of vision, it seemed, and possibly even of her image of existence.
She and I hadn't been terribly close prior, of course, but it still hurt my easily inflated ego that she—the only one I wanted attention from—didn't want any attention from me.

Throughout the day, I waited for her to show any sign of acknowledgement towards my person. But alas, my hopes were crushed; by the end of the brisk day, she hadn't mentioned or even glanced at me.

Had I completely imagined the eye contacts we'd exchanged a few weeks prior, accompanied by her many blushes, which tainted her pearly cheeks into a light pink?
Had the few—and cherished—words she'd spoken to me been out of pity? Or perhaps, I was of no significance at all to her? Perhaps she thought of me as she thought of any other pupil in Forks High School?

My ego had risen so high that I now subconsciously believed myself automatically superior to others in terms of personality and conversation. (I was better in other terms, such as physical appearance and strength, for my such traits were above the level humanity could reach.)
I had to realise and comprehend that I wasn't above her. She wasn't but a mild human—she was different in a way I'd never imagined prior. She was my equal. Therefore, any mystical enhancement would only work for a limited time, and under certain circumstances. If I was desirous of her reciprocated love, I needed to make an effort and assure that the image she had acquired of me was the best I could provide.

The following day, when the hour came for biology class, I waited (in)patiently for her to come in. Once she did, I subtly smiled, letting her intelligent person know that I was jovial of her entry whilst remaining discreet, which was a necessity, I believed, in her book of morals—I'd learned to "read" her sufficiently to make out a basic idea of what she was thinking (most of the time, for she sometimes kept such a blank facade it was impossible to do so).
She sat down as she usually did, and I turned my head towards her. I needn't see through her mind to know she could see me; her peripheral vision made it impossible for her not to. Yet she still chose to ignore me.
"Hi," I said after merely a second's hesitation (I, Edward Cullen, hesitating when trying to converse with a girl?)
"Hello," she answered plainly, turning her head towards me for an instant, her eyes still not on mine, and, instead, fixated on the ground.
"How'd you feel about the days getting colder?" I asked, referring to the frequent winds and fogs that came with the closing of the last autumn month.
"Erm—I don't really mind it," she uttered, once again, in that frigid, plain tone. Her eyebrows slightly bent down, forming a crease between them. I supposed she was confused as to why I was questioning her about the weather, of all things.
   "Hm," I said quietly, "I don't care much for it either."
Sabrina simply nodded and evidently turned her  attention at the institutor. Why? Why must I have been so awkward without my mystical charms handing me a helping hand? This had proven to be more uphill than I'd hitherto imagined. Was this what popular TV  programs meant by "having a crush on a girl" who's "out of your league"? (I utilised a strong, exaggerated American accent to think these phrases.)
Well, this had certainly humbled me down to some level.

Time passed, and slowly, Sabrina had stopped ignoring me completely. Progress was being made—slowly.
The repetitive sound of rain drops plummeting against the window sounded in my ears, as I observed the environs which were visible to me from outside the soaking window. As I'd had to conform to human speed, I couldn't run at what I considered a superhumanly fast speed—so I'd gotten wet outside. My nerves didn't react, as they were frozen, but I found it slightly irritating to see girls' fantasies about my body (which was visible to all thanks to the now transparency of my shirt).