It was raining again. Of course it was. I groaned, cursing myself for forgetting my umbrella in the car. Sighing, I ducked into the rain and rushed through the parking lot. What a day. Not only had I been bugged the entire day about "You know, your father always..." this, and "If only you could tell your father..." that, but the club I had just checked out in Port Angeles was beyond disappointing. I didn't have the time to drive to my previous club in Seattle, now that I lived in Forks again. I groaned. Why had I thought moving back to my hometown was a good idea? Damn that perfect job opening. I should have gotten the hell out of Washington as soon as I graduated.

I got in my car and turned the heat up as much as I could, and started driving towards Forks. I hadn't even reached the interstate when I saw something move on the road in front of me. I quickly hit the brakes and cringed at the squeal of my tires. I squinted into the dark but I couldn't see what it was. Cautiously, I backed up, until finally it was in the view of my headlights.

A tiny, soaked kitten was standing in the middle of the road, shivering. I got out of my car, ignoring the pouring rain and ran over to it. I crouched down and put my hand out, palm up, and it hesitantly put one paw, and then the other into my hand. I gently scooped the poor thing up and held it to my chest as I got back into the car. I found a fleece jacket in the backseat and wrapped the kitten as much as it would let me. As it was, it kept peeking out it's head and neck to look around the car.

I was worried. How long had it been in the cold? It could have hypothermia already. I drove a little faster than I usually did in my rush to get home.

It passed out before I could get there. After the longest six-minute drive ever, I parked quickly and picked the kitten up. I ran into the house and to the kitchen. I turned the faucet on and filled the sink with hot water. I tested the water before getting a cup and filling it in the sink. I held her over the sink and poured hot water on her.

"C'mon, wake up! I am not going to deal with a dead kitten," I said irrationally. I kept pouring water over her tiny body until she started stirring. Finally, to my relief, she woke up.

She panicked, and I winced a little as her claws grazed my hand. "Calm down. It's just a little water," I muttered, and for some reason it seemed like she understood me. She visibly relaxed and let me continue pouring water over her still freezing body.

When she seemed warm enough I wrapped her in a towel and dried her off, and then brought her to bed with me. She played with a pair of my socks while I changed out of my clothes. I got a small blanket out of the closet and wrapped her in it before I fell asleep.

The next morning the kitten wasn't anywhere in my room. Where the hell did she go? My door was shut... maybe she had crawled underneath it. Great. Day 1 with a pet and I'd already lost the thing. It was probably going to piss all over my house, too. I groaned and ran a hand through my hair. I needed to buy some cat food this afternoon. I walked to the fridge and pulled out a package of raw fish. This would have to suffice for now. But only this once. The last thing I needed was to be the doctor that brought in his own cat for a Thiamine deficiency.

I ran a hand through my hair and got out the cutting board. I started cutting it into tiny chunks when I heard someone clear their throat behind me. I spun around and gasped. Wearing my button up shirt and a pair of my boxers was a pale, scrawny girl with with dark eyes and long brown hair. "You... um... you don't have to do that. You've done more than enough," she said, shyly.

"Are you...?" I started. Was there a polite way to ask a stranger in your house if they were previously a cat?

"Uh, yeah. I am. Was. A cat," she said sheepishly and then seemed to realize something. "Oh! Um, I'm Bella!" She awkwardly stuck out her long skinny arm to shake my hand. I put down the knife and wiped my hand on my sweatpants before I took it. Her hand felt fragile.

"Edward. Do you wanna tell me how old you are?"

"Er... seventeen," she said.

"Oh, God. I'm sorry. Do you want a ride home or something?" I asked. "And maybe some better clothes?" I offered partly because she would be freezing in this weather and partly because it was a little distracting seeing her in my underwear. I shook off that thought. She's just a kid, you pervert!

"No, thank you, I don't need a ride. And I'll just phase again when you want me to leave."

"Do you have anywhere to go?" I asked.

"Well... not exactly." I raised an eyebrow. "Okay, I don't. But I'm kind of getting the hang of the whole nomad thing."

"Nomad? Jeez, ah, you can stay here until you, uh, figure something out," I offered, rubbing the back of my neck. "Or, if you're uncomfortable," as she should be! "I can help you find a cheap place. And a job. Where are your parents?"

"Heaven and Phoenix," she said. That was when I realized. "You're the chief's girl, aren't you?"

"He's not the chief anymore," she said evasively.

"Why aren't you in Arizona?" I asked.

"Because I'm tired of being raped!" she said irritably and then covered her mouth. Her big brown eyes widened in horror. "I'm so sorry. I've overstayed my welcome," she said.

"No, you haven't," I said. You sure have a way with the ladies, don't you, Cullen? You know all kinds of icebreakers, like bringing up dead parents and other traumatizing experiences. Blunt disagreement works, too.

"I shouldn't have snapped at you like that."

"I shouldn't have asked so many questions. So we're even," I said. Surely she couldn't argue with that.

"I shouldn't have taken your clothes. Or let you open that perfectly good fish for me." We were competing now. Oh, I was going to win.

"I shouldn't find you hot," I challenged, then froze. What the hell did I just say? For God's sake, she just told me she was a seventeen-year-old rape victim. What the fuck is wrong with me?

She looked at my mortified face and laughed. "If you're trying to upset me, you're going to have to try harder."

"I'm so very sorry. That was completely out of line." She made a pretend stern face for a second.

"You're right. For that, I get to ask you a question. You'd better answer it, too." She was terrible at keeping a straight face.

"What?"

"How old are you?" she asked, laughing still.

"Twenty-four," I said, cringing still.

"Alright, we're even. Shall we start over? I'm Bella. I happen to turn into a cat sometimes. My dad is dead and I'm in Forks because my stepdad is an asshole."

"I'm Edward Cullen. My parents are dead and I'm a surgeon. I'm in Forks because I'm a nostalgic idiot." She laughed again.

"Guess we have that in common."

That was how I met Bella Swan.