Disclaimer: Twilight, of course, belongs to Stephenie Meyer, and the rest of us can only wish that we owned Edward.
Fallback
Part I:
"Hey, check him out."
Pivoting as she balanced a metal tray in her hands, the waitress took a glance and instantly discovered that the view was far from disappointing.
"Well, hello gorgeous," she whispered appreciatively and turned to her friend. "Is he for like real? I mean, totally male model right?"
"We'll soon find out," the other girl replied and made her way to the targeted male. "May I help you, sir?"
The young man looked up, and the girl found herself riveted to his gaze. His eyes were amber, she decided, like a glass of cognac brandy.
"Just the check please," he said.
She automatically reached for his plate before stopping in confusion. He had not eaten the French toast at all, and the coffee mug beside it was still filled to the brim.
"Sorry, not much of an appetite today," he explained, standing and plucking a twenty from his wallet. He was nearly out the door when suddenly, he moved toward the counter in a rapid flash. His pale hand snatched the newspaper off the marble tabletop, and his eyes scanned the words desperately. For a moment, the girl felt unreasonably frightened by the way his irises darkened like a storm and how his lips had twisted into a slight snarl.
"Is something wrong, sir?"
The muscles in his face relaxed; the bone structure that had seemed so angular just a second ago became angelic.
"Nothing," he said in an almost light tone. "The headline story surprised me, that's all. It's about this billionaire's marriage, and his bride just happens to be a girl I knew once."
Long after the young man had left and their shifts had ended, the two waitresses sat down at a booth to rest and eagerly spread out the day's newspaper.
"It was so weird," Paula commented. "He was all calm and pleasant one minute, and then he got all upset at seeing this. What do you think she means to him?"
"She's definitely an ex-girlfriend," Kimberly said expertly. "A past lover, maybe a previous fiancée. And…he hasn't gotten over her."
"I bet he was the one who broke up with her, and now he regrets it," Paula mused. "Why do you think he left her?"
"Because her cooking sucked."
Giggling, the two girls cleaned up, turned off the lights, and thought no more of the mysterious stranger.
Elongated shadows danced across the walls of the gallery, and Edward felt as if he were surrounded by ghosts. Maneuvering his way through the clusters of people, he managed to locate Alice in one of the smaller rooms where she was viewing a series of sketches. The figures drawn with charcoal were a man and a woman in close embrace, fingers tracing each other's cheeks.
"She's captured you in art," Alice remarked, aware of her brother's presence behind her. "Have you seen her yet?"
No, but we should leave. I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't be intruding into her life again.
Alice scowled at him. Fine, be your tortured self. Whatever, it's not like you can stop me from seeing Bella.
Alice, don't!
His slim, spiky-haired sister darted away in a blur of ivory limbs. Gritting his teeth in frustration, Edward headed back to the art gallery's main corridor. As he searched for Alice, his mind sifted through the flood of thoughts around him, trying to sense Alice among the throng. And then he felt it, felt the abrupt burst of alarm in Alice.
What's wrong?
Her widened dark eyes met his. Edward, there are other vampires coming, and they're not just random nomads.
Then who are they?
Alice appeared beside him, and to his shock, she looked afraid. "The Volturi are coming."
"My dear girl, you don't look very excited for a brilliant artist who's about to have her first major exhibition."
Bella Swan turned her face away from the tinted car window and smiled at the vampire sitting next to her.
"You know, before I met you," she said. "I always imagined that vampires would be more interested in my blood and not my rubbish paintings."
Aro laughed and responded, "I have always been a patron of the arts. I greatly enjoy finding new talent, and you certainly have potential."
Bella moved closer, and a shudder of pleasure ran through the ancient vampire as her scent filled him. "Careful, old man," she whispered. "The others will think you're spoiling me."
His eyes closed, Aro nodded. "All in good time, all in good time."
The car had stopped, and the chauffeur opened the door with a tilt of his cap. As Bella slid one stiletto heel out of the car, she paused, recalling her old clumsiness.
"Edward! How could you not tell me that we're going to prom?"
They were in the limo, and he was laughing as she stubbornly refused to get out of the car.
"If I had told you, you wouldn't have worn that dress, and I would be deprived of the most lovely sight in all my one hundred years," he told her, his lips skimming her neck.
"But I can't dance with one foot in a cast," Bella insisted. "My clumsiness is dangerous enough without being half-crippled."
"I'll support you," Edward answered. "And if I have to, I'll carry you inside."
Her cheeks turned red, and she warned him, "You won't enjoy this. I'll fall on you when we're dancing."
"You'll lean on me," he corrected. "And I'll support you."
"Ahem," the chauffeur said delicately. "Miss Swan?"
Bella blinked. "Sorry, I'm just kind of…nervous."
Behind her, Aro chuckled and placed a hand on her bare shoulder. "Don't fret, child. I'll support you."
She turned away from him and said nothing.