Twilight Fan Fiction ❯ The Big City Lights ❯ First Impressions are Important ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Disclaimer: Twilight Characters are the creation of Stephenie Meyer. I claim no ownership and do not intent to profit from the use of the names and character descriptions in any way. What I am saying here is that: I do not own these characters in any aspect, I am using them simply to provide further entertainment to those who are attached, so please do not seek to sue me or implicate any legal actions. All places and people used in this story are, to my knowledge, either non-existent or based of people who I have a personal rapport with.
“No Dad, it’s alright. Yes I’m fine.” I paused to take a deep breath, holding my hand over the telephone receiver to keep the exasperated tone of my sigh from causing my over concerned father to worry more than he already was. It had only been several hours since I had bid my father, Charlie, farewell as he took me as far as the airport security staff would allow him; the flight itself from Regina International Airport to Pearson Airport in Toronto had only taken a little over five hours to complete.
“You brought me here in June, remember? I know it’s a bigger city than Wilcox, most places are. Just trust me and calm down a little bit. I’m here, all in one piece, and I even have all of my things. If something had happened, do you think I we would be having this conversation?” I smiled a little bit, a hint of a giggle leaking past my own nervousness. Prior to the flight I had been nervous, thought now I could admit that the feelings of unease had been uncalled for. While it was true that I had spent the last four years of my life living with Charlie in the small town of Wilcox, Saskatchewan, I had grown up with my mother, Renée, out in Victoria on the West Coast. Victoria, at least, could content with Toronto when it came to size and population.
“I know, Bella, I know. But a father is allowed to worry about his only daughter; especially when she’s going to school so far from home. You found the house alright, no cabbies giving you trouble? Are you going to the campus with Ms. Roberts later, so you can get a feel for it?” I could tell that Charlie was trying very hard to keep himself in check; I was actually surprised that he managed to pause for breath between his questions. Rolling my eyes, an action I knew he would expect of me, I cleared my throat to cut off his incessant stream of questions.
“Getting here was a piece of cake dad, no trouble at all. I could have taken the subway you know, I only would have had to transfer lines once, just like we did when we came down. I’m just going to stay in tonight and unpack, then have tea with Ms. Roberts. It seems no one else is here yet, but term doesn’t start for another couple of days. Orientation is tomorrow, and I’ll go there early so I can figure out where I need to be. Don’t worry so much or you’ll make yourself sick, and who will take care of you? Anyway dad, I should let you go, I have to go unpack and I still haven’t called mom yet to let her know I got here safely. I think things will be fine dad, I have a feeling. Don’t forget I love you, and there’s still some lasagna in the fridge from last night. I’ll call again after classes start. I love you, dad.” Even though she couldn’t see him, Bella was absolutely certain that Charlie was running a hand through his hair and holding back from asking more questions, which he knew she had already answered.
“Alright sweetheart; tell Ms. Roberts hello for me, and don’t forget to thank her for the room. It’s very nice of her to let you stay there for so little. Keep safe, don’t get lost, and I love you too Isabella.”
As I hung the phone back on the dock I couldn’t help but let another sigh escape my lips. Turning around I held onto the thick wooden banister as I pulled myself up the large staircase in the old fashioned house which would serve as my home away from home for my first year of University. The house itself was massive and sat far back on a rather long front lawn. The interior was warm, the hardwood floors and wood paneled walls giving it a cozy, welcoming air. Despite what I had told Charlie, I was a little bit concerned about moving to Toronto; but the nerves had more to do with the impending stress of my first Post-Secondary experience. I could have easily gone to the local University, located in Regina, only a short commute away from Wilcox, but the partial scholarship to study English Literature at the University of Toronto had been too much of a pull to resist. Now, in this new city, I had to look towards the prospect of making new friends, something that had always been a little bit more difficult for me to do, especially in a small city. As I made it to the top of the stairs, I turned in the small landing and opened to door to the right, which led to my new room. The light switch beside the door was as old as the house itself, so when I pushed in on button in, I had to wait a few second for the lights to come on. My suitcases lay shut on the hardwood floor; I had packed all that I had wanted to bring with me into the two medium sized uprights, and brought a small overnight duffle bag with the rest of the things I was sure I would need. It had left my room back home at Charlie’s still full of my things, a comfort I’m sure he would indulge in every now and again. A single double sized bed, complete with a warm looking quilt and pillow was pushed up against the middle of the back wall. The room itself was sparsely furnished, but it suited me; I would have time to really make it my own as the weeks and months passed. A fire place with a generous mantel was set into the north wall of the room, separating two windows that looked out onto the brick side of the neighboring house, letting in enough light to dimly illuminate the corners of the room if I were to leave the lights off. To the right of the door there was a small vanity table and matching stool; both were worn and the wood pale with age, giving them an antique look. A small desk sat kitty-corner to it, a desk light and a power bar set atop to make it an effective working area. In the far corner of my new room there was another door which I knew led to a closet that was surprisingly large for such a small one; a closet I knew would look empty even when I had hung all my clothes and stored my empty luggage away in. With a determined expression I sat myself down on the floor in the middle of the room, pulling my first suit case towards me and unzipping it. The sooner I was finished making myself at home, the sooner I would be able to go and speak with Ms. Roberts. Though I had only met her once before, I already knew that I liked her a great deal.
Ms. Roberts was in her mid-sixties, though from looking at her you wouldn’t have been able to tell. Her hair was light blonde and cut short, and her light blue eyes always seemed to shine with an accepting friendliness. My father knew Ms. Roberts when we had come to visit and tour Toronto after I had decided to accept the scholarship. Maria Roberts had been a nun for most of her life, and had only moved to Toronto from Boston after leaving the life of the church behind. She had joking said that it was because she couldn’t stand the old biddies that the Mother Superior had turned into. Since then she had done clerical work at one of the local hospitals, which was where she had met William Mason. William, or Bill, had been my Grandfather’s old army buddy, and after that my father’s godfather. I had only met Bill once in my life, before my parents had divorced and I had gone to live in Victoria with Renée. He had been a cheerful gentleman and I could see how my grandfather and he would have gotten along. They had both trained in the Canadian Army at Fort Churchill, before serving in Korean for a short period of time. Maria had taken care of Bill during a very difficult time for him, and she felt that she knew my father enough, from all that Bill had told her of him and our family, to offer me a place to stay. She had been adamant that I wouldn’t have to pay anything at all, so long as I was willing to help out around the house, but Charlie had been too stubborn and had made her agree to accept a portion of the rent that she charged other boarding students. Still what I was paying was only a very small fraction of what it would have cost me to live in campus residence or to rent my own place within the Greater Toronto Area.
Before I knew it I had unpacked and refolded all of my clothes, hanging up the few formal things I had brought with me and putting the rest in the little nooks inside the closet meant for shoes and other such things. My other bag was much heavier; much to the consternation of my father I had packed almost all the books I owned t bring with me. Aside from the various well read copies I had packed a few photos, an alarm clock, my iPod sound system, and a few knick knacks that I felt were precious and could not be left behind. My laptop, a graduation gift from Charlie and the boys at his police station, sat securely in my overnight duffle, waiting to be set up so that I could send a message to Renée and assure her that I was still alive.
By the time I had finished unpacking and pushed my empty suitcases to the back of my closet, the light from outside had dimmed considerably. I could hear the wood of the old house creek musically as Ms. Roberts moved around downstairs, probably wondering if I had fallen asleep. Stretching my arms up high and got up off the ground and gave myself a quick glance in the vanity mirror. Nothing had changed since that morning; my long brown hair was still hanging straight past my shoulders, with less body than usual. My dull brown eyes, Charlie’s eyes, looked back at me. My plain pale face didn’t stand out, my straight nose, my cheekbones, and my chin was normal. Nothing about me was all that remarkable, and I knew that nothing, especially not a move to a new city, was going to make me any different; was still the exact same Bella Swan that I had been all my life. I was slim, the kind of slim that most high school girls would kill for, with slightly curved hips and a slender waist. I wasn’t too skinny, nor did I look as if I was carrying any extra weight around; while sports had not been my thing, I had still felt that it was necessary to do some sort of physical activity to keep myself in good health. I wasn’t overly self conscious of my appearance, nor was I over confident that I was in any way attractive. In Wilcox there had been a few boys who had constantly asked me out, but I knew that that was more from the fact that there was a very small dating pool and they hadn’t rally had any other choices unless they had wanted to go alone. Here, in Toronto, I was sure that I was so plain that I would pass under all radar, and that I would blend in with the vast majority of the crowd; this was a welcome idea to me, I didn’t want to have any reason to be distracted from my studies. With a resolute nod I raised my chin, and with a quick run of my fingers through my hair to rid it from snarls I turned out he lights and went downstairs to have tea with Ms. Roberts.
It was later than I had expected it to be when I finally got back up to my room. Maria, as she insisted I called her because she felt that Ms. Roberts made her feel like some kind of school teacher, had not only had tea ready when I had finished with my room but had already put in an order for pizza, saying that she didn’t expect me to cook for myself on my very first day there. After supper, which had been shared over quiet a few laughs, Maria had shown me around the rest of the house. Her own room was on the floor above mine, up another staircase and could have been its own suit if she bothered putting a kitchen in. The main floor instead, was comprised of two kitchens at the very back of the house, each with their own set of appliance. The main kitchen was adjoined to a small sun room off the long paved driveway, and the windows were clean and sparkling, offering a view out onto the back yard, which was overflowing with flowers and shaded by a single large oak tree right at its center. The more I got used to the house, the more it felt like a mansion. Aside from the double kitchens there was an office out of which Maria worked; beside the main staircase there was a full bathroom, a formal dining room and sitting room, and a small television room. The size of the rooms made my own house back in Wilcox seem like a mere apartment in comparison. I was informed that, aside from Ms. Roberts, there was an older couple who lived in the basement suite, and there were three other girls who were boarding in the house as well, thought they had yet to arrive. The floor I was on was separated nicely, there were four other rooms, roughly the same size as my own; the fourth room was larger and served as a study area, with a moderate sized television incase someone didn’t want to watch what was already on downstairs. There were two full bathrooms and another half bathroom, ‘so that no one has to fight in the morning’ had been the reasoning that Maria had given me, accented by a knowing look. Maria spoke so warmly of the house that it already felt like home, and it was as if were good friends who simply had not seen one another in a long while.
Turning off the main light in my room and opening my duffle bag and pulled out the small laptop that I had yet to turn on; opening it I hit the power button and set it on top of my quilt while it powered up. I stripped out of my travel cloths and grabbed my pajama’s from the closet; they were nothing special, aside from the fact that they bore the name of my High School , the bold white letters standing out from the read as if to proclaim that the “ Notre Dame Hound” were much more than a mere high school team. Slipping into the sweat and battered t-shirt and slipped under the covers, propping my back up against the headboard with a pillow as I brought the humming computer into my lap and si8gned in to my new wireless line, provided courtesy of Ms. Roberts and the couple in the basement. I wrote a quick e-mail to Renée, letting her know that I was doing alright and that I already felt at home. I threw in more detail than was necessary for the short time that I had been in Toronto because I knew that my mother would thrive and hang off my every word. Sometimes it seemed as if she was more like my sister than my mother, but we got along and rarely argued about anything so it was a pleasant medium. I surfed around for a little while on my new lap top, getting a feel for the speed of it and changing my presets until I felt they were the way I would like them. After turning the computer off I shifted it to the small bedside table and made sure that my alarm was set for the morning. I knew where the closest Subway station was, and where I needed to be for the orientation meeting and tour, but I still set my alarm to go off a couple of hours earlier than my usual wake up time, so I would get a chance to do some wandering of my own. Laying down and adjusting my pillows under my head I turned off the bedside lamp and closed my eyes, hoping that my nerves wouldn’t get the better of me and keep me awake all night.
The crowd around me seemed to be moving as fast as the traffic on the street, creating an impenetrable wall of human bodies. I could see the train coming, inching along like tracks like a giant metal slug. Try as I might I couldn’t get past the people moving in front of me, as I touched them it was as if I wasn’t even there; my body seemed to have no substance. The chimes sounded announcing that the train was arriving at the platform, warning everyone to stand back behind the yellow line to insure safety. As the metal doors slid open the crown around me seemed to vanish, only to be replaced by a larger surge of people disembarking. The wave took hold of me and pulled me back and away from the doors, dragging me with them as they walked out onto the unfamiliar street. Suddenly I was completely alone, the street, the station, and the ground had all vanished from around me, and I had no idea where to go.
Morning had come far too quickly after my vivid dream. My alarm had hardly even started going off but I slammed the off button and rolled myself out of bed. The sheets and my own baggy sweats were so tangled around me that it was a miracle I managed to get out of bed without falling flat on my face. I went about my daily routine as if I had never left home, thought it took a little while longer than usual to adjust the water temperature to my liking. I’d washed up, wrapped my hair up, and brushed my teeth before returning to my room. I planned on being as comfortable as possible today, which meant that I put very little time into choosing what I was going to wear. The weather was starting to have a cooler edge to it, so I opted for a pair of light jeans and a fitted short sleeve shirt. I took my time blow-drying my hair, flipping my head over in an attempt to persuade a little more volume out of it, running my brush through it vigorously to help keep it from falling flat again my scalp. In the end my efforts were only mildly rewarded; instead of sitting flat there was a little bit of lift in my hair, and it may have just been the pale light of the morning sun in my room but it looked as if my hair had actually managed to hold a little bit of shine and smoothness to it throughout the whole process. When I got downstairs I was surprised to see a full pot of coffee already brewed in the kitchen, and a travel mug with a bow around it. Setting my shoulder bag down, I opened the fridge and pulled out an apple before walking to the coffee pot. Beneath the new travel mug was a note, written in a smooth flowing script that spoke of time and care:
Smiling I poured the fresh black coffee into the new mug before snapping the lid down, at least now I wouldn’t have to look around until I found a coffee shop, thought I knew that it wouldn’t have been hard it still made me feel better to already have my cup of coffee with me. I grabbed the key that had been left for me and slipped it into my bag, making sure that it wouldn’t fall out. It was only as short ten minute walk to reach the High Park TTC station, and I reached it feeling more chipper than I could remember. The sensation of being lost that had plagued me while I had slept obviously could not find foundation in the light of day. I purchased my tokens for the train from the vending machine that sat just past the main street entrance; they were very small, even tinier than a dime, and I had to double check to make sure that all but one ended up in my front pocket. I skipped down the stairs and deposited my token in the turn-style, which clicked as it let me through, the directions on the wall that pointed towards the East bound Bloor-Danforth Green Line were very simple to follow, and I found that I was not the only person waiting for a train. I had to stop my feeling of amazement at seeing others using the public transportation system; four years of living in Saskatchewan and only occasionally seeing people wait at a bus stop when I visited Regina had obviously taken too much root in my mind as being the norm.
I didn’t have to wait very long before the train arrived, brining with it a gust of cool air that made me pull my light jacket around me a little tighter. A few people got off, and the rest of us got on. The few people that had been waiting for the High Park train packed into the somewhat crowded car, and I managed to squeeze my way down a little bit until I wasn’t standing directly in front of one of the many train doors. I checked the train map that was displayed on the backlit panels and counted how many stations until I got to Saint George, which would let me out on the street where I needed to be if I was going to go to the pre-arranged tour site. St. George was the ninth station from where I currently was, so I felt confident enough to let my mind wander a little bit, taking in the sounds around me. I read each safety and warning sign, posted in both French and English, along the course of the train; some warned against improper seating, others declared in bold letters that graffiti would be punished with a heavy fine and criminal proceedings. Before each stop a pre-recorded female voice chimed in, letting the passengers know when it was their time to get off. The car cleared out gradually, and after a stop at Dundas West, it felt as if almost no one was left. I had only taken a few sips of my coffee since getting on the train, and as I went for another the train lurched forward n its course. I hadn’t been holding onto the guide rail above me, thinking I had more time to settle back in. I felt myself falling backwards, the sting as my hot coffee missed my mouth and landed on my cheek caused me to close my eyes reflexively as I tensed for the hard fall I knew was going to come as I lost my balance.
It felt like I had been falling for much too long, my eyes squeezed close so tightly that I was sure it would hurt to open them. My descent stopped abruptly and I waited expectantly for the dull pain to sprout from my tailbone. After a moment, the dreaded pain still hadn’t blossomed. I let my breath escape in a mild hiss, and I slowly forced myself to open my eyes. The first thing I noticed was that my travel mug was still clutched in my hand and that it definitely felt full, a signal that I was not flat out on my back on the floor of the train as I had expected to be. The second thing I noticed was the vice like hold secured around my waist, and the firm and oddly warm surface that my back rested securely against. It took me another moment to realize that the surface behind me was moving steadily. Slowly I dared to open my eyes, letting them drift down to see what was holding me back. At first it looked like a black band around my waist, but as I continued to follow it the bar became an arm, secured around me, and the surface behind me was suddenly, and very clearly, another human being. My eyes began to follow the arm, obviously male, upwards; from wrist to elbow, elbow to shoulder and slowly further. I released the breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding as my eyes, ever curious, grazed along his well defined jaw, which was clean shaven and looked very smooth, even in the harsh and unloving light of the train. His face could have been carved in marble by the Renaissance masters. His lips were full, perfectly proportioned to his face, and curved up in a crooked grin as if something amusing had just taken place. I paused in my visual worship because something quite funny had just happened in that I, a fully grown woman, had almost wiped out and spilt the entire contents of a hot cup of coffee down my front. From an outsider prospective I’m sure it had looked odd and out of place, well worth a few laughs at the expense of another’s wellbeing. However, despite all this, it was his eyes that gave me the most reason to pause and stare at the man who had saved me from a nasty fall; they were a captivating green so bright that I felt as if, in them, I could see all the beauty that the world could possibly hold. They reminded me of fresh green grass glistening with early morning dew in the warm sunlight.
My shoulders began to shake and after a second I could no longer hold back the laughter, which escaped my throat as a fit of uneasy giggles that sounded just shy of hysterical to my own ears. Here I was on a subway in a major city center, being held rather intimately by a complete stranger, and all I could manage to think of was how I had suddenly become the babbling heroine in a very cliché Victorian style romance.
“I was worried for a second there, thought that maybe you were going into shock. You didn’t burn yourself, did you?” My breath hitched and could feel my cheeks heat with an uncontrolled blush; forget his eyes, they were nothing in comparison to his voice which was rich with the scintillatingly rich tones of well articulated speech, and laced with a natural charm all their own. The smooth velvet of his baritone made my bones weak. I had to vigorously remind my rebellious body that it was not acceptable to swoon over such a small thing, and the mental chastising seemed to snap me back into reality. My reaction had to have been brought on by my sudden panic and embarrassment for the accident, I reasoned, after all that could be the only logical explanation for the whole situation.
I must have done something very odd because the man holding me arched one of his eyebrows and laughed softly. I hurriedly murmured an apology and my thanks before moving away from him as the intercom announced our imminent arrival at the St. George station. His arm gave no real resistance as I retreated, but for just a second I almost thought that I saw something close to regret flash across his expressive face.
The train pulled to a jerking stop and we both exited smoothly, without any further incidents. I couldn’t help but watch him as he side stepped the boarding passengers and ascend the stairs ahead of me, taking them two at a time with ease. As I turned to continue on my way to street level, he vaulted gracefully over the gate that separated in inbound and outbound foot traffic and continued to walk the moment the balls of his feet touched the ground. His bright green eyes caught my own plain brown ones before he turned away and headed for the stairs down to the West-bound platform.
As I proceeded to hurry up the last flight of stairs, and out of the station to my destination, I could only dare to faintly hope that no one was observant enough to notice the blush that stained my pale cheeks, or how I almost walked face first into the exit doors without pushing the bar to release the catch to open them.