“Not bad,” he said, chewing on his lip as he watched my hands glide over the keys. “Now, try this.”

He added higher harmony to the tune I was playing, and it wasn’t long before I messed up again. Patience, patience, patience, I chanted to myself silently.

My mantra rendered ineffective. I sighed with frustration and crossed my arms over my chest again, fuming at my musical defectiveness.

“Aw, don’t give up now,” Edward pleaded, fighting a smile at my childish expression.

I scowled at him. “And why not? I suck,” I pouted, my eyebrows knitted together with annoyance.

“You’re wonderful,” he said softly, imitating me as he reached to smooth out the deep crease between my eyebrows. I leaned closer to him instinctually and he smiled, his hand resting on my face for a beat before he seemed to remember himself, and once again returned his focus to the piano. My scowl returned and I glared at his troubled expression. Sometimes I really wished I knew what he was thinking.

“Come now,” he encouraged me as he pulled my hands back onto the keys. “Try again.”

I sighed in resignation and resumed my below-par playing, his movements matching mine on a higher scale. His melody sounded fluid, flawless – self-assurance smoothing over every wavering note.

This was us. Who we were. Everything he did would be on the higher scale. Played to perfection. He would always be, to me, larger than life. Too good to be true.

A reassuring touch on my shoulder made me aware I had stopped playing again. Edward studied me, his golden eyes roving over my face in wordless question.

Did I want to do this? I didn’t know. That really was the winning question, I guess. I was sick with this strange magnetic obsession I had for him, the mystery surrounding my quickly thawing heart, and all the undertones of doubt and inferiority weren’t helping my case.

“Sorry,” I muttered in apology. “Guess I got distracted.”

“Bella, I…” Edward began, and then shut his mouth as his gaze flickered to the wall behind me. “It’s getting late,” he mumbled. “Maybe we should pick this up tomorrow night.”

I nodded, and before he could say anything else, had bolted up from the bench and was outside on the balcony in a few strides. I hated the whole dramatic feel to these kinds of quick departures, but I had to get out of there. There was always something compelling me to run away when I started to feel this way. Like I wasn’t good enough.