A/N: Hi everyone, this is my first story so bear with me! Characters are all Stephenie Meyer, story is mine. Thanks to my beta and everyone who gave me adive, you know who you are. Reviews = LOVE.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Every god damn day. Look down, don't make eye contact. Beep. Beep.

"Good afternoon ma'am," whistled Mr. Berty, placing his usual items of pickles and tic-tacs on the rugged conveyor belt. I didn't respond, as usual. I mean what would I have to talk to him about- which flavor of tic-tacs was the best and why? That sure as hell was not going to happen.

"Still not talking?"

I gave him my best "shut the hell up face" and he immediately retreated to his cart and shuffled out of the store. I glanced down the oh-so-familiar check out line and groaned. "Fuck me."

I really hated this place: Forks One-Stop Grocery; yeah, one stop to hell. I usually was able to flick of my open lane switch before a line could even form, but today was different and different was never good. I'm already use to my fucked up life, why change? Work, go home, receive a little "love tap" from Charlie, my father. Maybe "love tap" was the wrong term. Beat the shit out of me, now that's better. Why don't I tell anyone that the so-called "Chief of Forks Police" beats his own daughter? Tried that; ended up "slipping down the stairs", you do the math.

"Beautiful day today, Isa-bella," An older man said, squinting to read my name tag. "Mind helping me take the groceries to the car?"

"Are you fucking serious?" I muttered, actually making slight eye contact. I didn't like moving from my little "cove" behind the cash register. But like I said, today was different. I rolled my eyes and shoved the car towards the exit sign-old man in tow, not making a peep. I stuffed the bagged lumps of groceries in the trunk of the old man's Honda and slumped back inside not even giving the "beautiful day" a chance to earn it's keep. I glanced at the clock: 7:53; seven more minutes, and I'm done. One last customer and off to hell-hole part two: home.

"Would you like to get a card here?" I murmured flatly, to the next customer. "No you don't, no one ever does," Why did I even bother asking anymore?

I didn't even bother looking up this time for the customers reaction to my "fuck off" attitude, but the warm voice that spoke produced a strange, safe, shiver down my spine.

"Actually, I would like to get a card here."

"No, you don't," I protested.

"Are you saying I'm a liar?" Wow, this guys was amused

"No, I'm saying that you don't fucking want one, they're stupid." That should get him, I , it actually worked. I handed the man his change, flicked off my number 6 sign, clocked out and walked through the automatic doors into the mall all without looking back. Forgive and forget, right? Wrong, I don't forgive; I just forget.

I proceeded with my simple after work routine, pretzel kiosk then off to my truck. But I'll say it again, today felt different and I sure as hell hoped it wasn't the pretzel that was screwing with my day. Boy, was I wrong. I heard footsteps matching mine as I bit into the warm, salty pretzel. "You're lucky I didn't report you, you know," the same soft voice- whose source was my last customer, spoke looking right at me.

"Report me. I'd rather get fired then work another day here," I shrugged, taking another bite.

"Jobs aren't easy to find these days." Why was he still talking?

"Thanks, Captain Obvious."

"Is it because I wanted a card?"

"What? No, I really don't give a shit if you get a card or not."

"Here we go again with you being rude," he sighed like he knew me my whole life.

"You don't know me, okay?" I continued walking, now in the dark parking garage.

"I know, but it wouldn't hurt to make a new friend, would it?" This guy must have been really lonely, or he just wanted to piss me off.

"Oh, so we're friends now?" I had never avoided a person better in my life; I still had no idea what this guy looked like.

"If you want. I mean, it looks like you need one."

One last attempt of forgetting this guy. I responded in a peppy voice, accompanied by a smile, keeping my gaze fixed on the automatic doors, opening and closing. "Awesome, I'm like really totally glad we're friends now! Call me later?" I turned and walked off, hopefully getting this asshole off my case.

"So much for being polite!" He shouted after me, I could practically hear the smirk form on his face.

"I'm sorry, okay?" I muffled a shout, holding the pretzel in my mouth and unlocking the red door to my beloved, shitastic truck.

"You're forgiven," He retorted shutting his own car door as he got in and drove towards where I was. "See you tomorrow, umm, Isabella? Did I get that right?" He smiled rolling down his window. I gave him a thumbs up, hoping he'd finally get the fucking clue.

"That's not the way to treat a person…" Okay, now I'm pissed. This asshole has no idea who I am and know he's giving me life lessons?

"What do you want from me?"

"I just want to be your friend," He mumbled.

"You don't want to be my friend, okay? You're not missing anything special."

He paused, thinking. "…I have a feeling that I'm missing everything. I do want to be your friend, you seem like a very nice person," he spoke softly.

"I…look like a nice person? Haven't heard that one before," I laughed without humor.

"Well, now you have."

"How do I know you're not a murderer or something?" I questioned, turning around slowly, looking at the ground.

"Oh I'm sorry, my names Edward. Edward Cullen. And no, I am not a murderer because a murdered doesn't go to a local grocery store." I could feel his smile.

"You don't know that, Edward."

"Come on, Isabella…a little trust?" He sounds like a begging dog. Trust, ha. Trust and I had a very rocky relationship.

"Trust has been missing a long time in my life, why would I trust a stranger?" Why was I practically telling this guy my story? I rubbed my arms where the rough bruises were concealed under my dark green uniform shirt.

"Maybe if you let someone in, they can help," Oh shit. He opened the door to his silver Volvo, hot shot, and walked smoothly towards me. "There, now you can see me, do I look like a murderer?"

I slowly looked up and met his gaze. Dammit, I caved…but fuck was I happy I did. Beneath his crazy-ass copper colored hair were these beautiful, safe, emerald green eyes. I know it's cliché, but I probably really could stare into them all day. His face was just as beautiful: perfect, smooth, pale skin with the most amazing jaw-line I had ever seen. The dark gray shirt he wore accentuated his body in just the right places and shot a shiver down my spine. The left side of his lips twitched up into an amazing half smile as I looked on.

"Listen Isabella, it's okay if you don't want to be my friend, I'm not going to force you," he shrugged. "But, you do look like you're in need of one. Your choice, take it or leave it."

I looked away, embarrassed for staring. "Fine, you want to be my friend? Come here tomorrow, 5 pm and we'll talk."

"Okay, see you then," he smiled and offered his hand.

"Bye," I said flatly, handing him my pretzel in response and retreated to my car as he did the same.

Was I happy about my day being different? I couldn't decide yet. It sure as hell was…interesting; but, how could I trust this guy? Oh look, he just ate the rest of my pretzel; this guy's weird.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading!