A/N: Hello! Welcome to another story I have written whilst procrastinating. I'm going to go ahead and tell you that you're in for some crazy plot twists. Plot twists are my favorite. This one's an A/U but you're going to have to figure this one out for yourself.

(PSST PIECE THE PIECES TOGETHER!)

I won't make this A/N long. Just wanted to say hi and give you the song of the chapter:

You've Got a Friend in Me - Randy Newman & Lyle Lovett

Reviews get a glimpse into a regular day in Edward Cullen's life!

Disclaimer: SM owns everything, everything I tell ya!

Chapter One: You've Got a Friend in Me

I chose to take night school the summer before university so my mother and her new boyfriend could spend their evenings together. It wasn't even a class I needed. The Writer's Craft was a course I was fairly well versed in and honestly took it just so I can hand in work that I already wrote. The requirements for such bird courses were simple: write a story, write a poem, write a speech, write a letter to yourself in fifteen years and one to your child self before a catastrophic event that changed your life forever.

Dear five year old me, when your parents divorced, just know that those two people could not be any more different. The only thing they have in common is you, and for them that's enough. You couldn't help but feel that if you cleaned up your toys they would still be together.

Don't worry about it squirt. You'll get to spend the next thirteen years of your life switching back and forth every summer. You'll try to attend Forks High in freshman year and hate the weather so much you move back to Phoenix less than a month in. You'll break your father's heart, but that's okay. He understands.

Kid, I know it's hard to cope with now. Daddy's staying here and we're going to live in Arizona, I don't like the rain here. It makes me sad.

Kid I know your mom will take good care of you. Be careful where you go. Don't talk to strangers. I'll miss you squirt.

Dear five year old me, I'm pretty sure you're upset right now. Pick your bum off the closet floor and take a deep breath. Bring all of the stuffed animals you sat with in there and lay them on the bed. Pull the covers up over your head so the bad guys can't touch you.

Stay in your invisible bubble and wander through the next eighteen years of your life in that bubble. High school will be a drag. You're already too mature for their petty problems. They're probably sucking their thumbs and you're going to have to wake your mom up tomorrow so she won't make you late for kindergarten.

High school will be the place where nothing and no one will hold your interest as much as the pen under your pillow does. Young one, take that pen and use it wisely. Take to the paper and document all you can.

You're going to feel like bigger and better things are to be experienced, kid. And that's true. Most people will spend their entire lives not realizing this. Remember this and you'll be okay. There's a world out there that's bigger than all of this, kid. You got it in the palms of your hand. You'll be okay.

I felt melancholy sneak up on me like an armed assassin. I stuck my pen between the pages of my journal and wished for the class to end. It was 9:01 and the first half just ended. Two more hours and I'll take the transit home to where pizza and pop will be waiting for me on the table beside Phil's keys and smelly duffel bag dropped haphazardly into a barstool.

The wire-haired, boho chic woman at the front was fiddling with the speakers she used to play us songs to keep us inspired. Today's Celtic Woman gave me a migraine. Maybe it was because I was tired. Maybe it was because I didn't have my coffee. I looked around at the ten other people in class with desk partners. I didn't have one, thank goodness.

I couldn't stand people my own age. Hell, I couldn't stand people at any age. People always want something from you. It didn't matter if they were nice. Even nice people used others so they could feel like they did something for the good of the world. People were fickle. Fake. They said one thing, think another and act completely out of bounds. People weren't trustworthy, dependable. People didn't see things the way I did.

I was removed from the context. Taken out of the picture. A mere observer and neutral territory in every decision. I was content in my bubble and didn't feel like sharing my thoughts to anyone because people never listened. Mrs. Hayes's song ended and I hoped with a bitter mind that she'd shut the damn thing off. She didn't.

I shook my hair out of its messy ponytail and would deal with the sweat that stuck it to my face later. Discretely, I put in my earphones and let the sounds of Radiohead's Pablo Honey album to take my focus away. In the back corner where I was placed, the window and I were in perfect accordance. I could see the moon from where I sat and a couple stars. The city lights ate the starlight and is one of the few reasons why I missed Forks. On the rare occasion that the night sky was clear there, the universe exploded over me, dusting the velvety black wool in a generous smattering of glitter.

In Phoenix, it was very easy to become muted by the rush of the city. Here, people paid me no mind when I walked on a busy street. Gangsters and their girlfriends took to their own devices, pretty boys and girls remained magnetized to each other, jocks and cheerleaders stuck to their iconic circles, the brains and fandoms closed themselves in their worlds, the movie buffs and their hipster friends went to café's at lunch and I stayed behind the scenes watching the world move forward and my own life melt me to the spot.

I was the star that, when you focused on it for too long, disappeared from your sight. You rubbed your eyes and saw me again, but in that same second, I've vanished. I'm a fleeting glance that no one seems to spare. I'm the girl with clipped wings and the world barely at my reach. I clutch at empty air and wait for the current to get me moving again.

A few more songs passed and I'm wondering with huge annoyance why we had five hours to write one assignment. I contemplated faking cramps or maybe a sprained ankle to remove myself from this stupid class. With five more weeks left until the exam and a summer that I can't wait to end, it's a wonder why I didn't bolt out of my seat in impatience.

After some time, someone came into the class. Mrs. Hayes' electrocuted hair and wide framed glasses turned to the man. I looked back to the sky without the slightest interest. Maybe he was here to free me from this agony. I chuckled darkly and thought of the various different scenarios that could stem out of this.

One: I wrote. The building next to us is on fire and currently houses firecrackers. Two: There's an acid leak in the science classroom above us and it would be prudent if we left the premises now. Three: Her Volkswagen Beetle is being towed because the sunflowers she stuck on it are stolen property.

I was out of ideas by that point.

I was never good at planning escapes.

The classroom guest slung his jacket over his shoulder and walked back out of the room. It was a clothing item I questioned with incredulity and I wondered if he had been outside yet. He must be new.

Mrs. Hayes began talking and I tucked the earphones into my shirt. She demanded that we bring our chairs to the front of the room like we did on the first day. I blanched at the thought of having to go through that again. Hi my name is Bella Swan and I'm plain. Everyone appraised me and determined for themselves that I was, indeed, plain. I then proceeded to write a poem about my plainness.

Brown hair, eyes:

The colour of dirt and mud.

Pale skin and an inability to tan:

The mark of an almost-albino.

I don't belong to any clubs:

Unless you count the frequent flyers club as one.

I suck at writing poetry:

I'm plain.

You should call me Jane.

Of course I put zero effort into that one. I titled it I'm plain Bella Swan. Very creative.

Mrs. Hayes re-invited our guest in and I was staring at my feet. Disinterested in this game she was making us play. I was going to go first and introduce myself. She called my name. And I think my face dropped despite expecting it.

"I'm Bella Swan and I'm still plain." I looked up at the guest. His legs straddled the 'welcome chair'. He was wearing his leather jacket and a smile that knocked the stupid expression off my face and replaced it with a slap of red tomato cheeks. He was a pretty boy. Painstakingly handsome of course, I had to look away. Perfect pearly-whites. The way that his hair was in disarray made it look like it was moulded to look like it was not-on-purpose. His face was chiseled out of the same white stone that I was, except he made it work against his pouty-pink lips. He was dreadfully gorgeous and it took another second for me to accept this.

I did.

As the ten other people introduced themselves, I couldn't help but notice a slight tremor that rocked my body. Adrenaline, I think. My skin pricked with unease from my nervousness and my palms were sweating. My overactive flight response made my stomach churn, a delayed response from having spoken up.

I rolled my eyes at the introductions of some of the girls who were obviously flaunting something to catch Pretty Boy's attention. Chances are he's an asshole. Pretty Boys don't do night school because it interrupted beauty sleep. Pretty boy probably needed a credit. Pretty boy probably needed help getting caught up and I would probably help him because Pretty boy always gets what he wants.

I caught myself. I wasn't usually so judgemental. I think my migraine had something to do with it. I was anti-everything today. Mrs. Hayes told Pretty Boy to pick one thing about himself that could also work as a metaphor for him to write about later. Plain could metaphorically mean my inability to distinguish myself from the background, I wrote into my notebook. A wallflower, a blade of grass in a city lush green and lively. Busy, unnoticed, cold pizza and pop on the counter. A plain ticket, to the same old town every month. A Monday –

Mrs. Hayes hovered over me and I heard her loud bangles before I saw her shadow. I shut my book and prepared to read in front of the class because I so rudely ignored the new kid's introduction. I closed my eyes in irritation and focused on the silence that preluded his speech. Deep breaths.

"I'm Edward Cullen, and I'm a vegetarian," he said simply. A quiet murmur of the class discussing what a vegetarian was a metaphor for ensued.

A shift of seats told me that I was now in the middle of the interrogation circle.

Hayes cleared her throat and when I opened my eyes, Edward was staring curiously at me. I flinched away from his gaze – as from everyone else's – and swallowed dryly. "Plain," I began. My almost-raspy voice was a sharp contrast to Edward's almost-seductive honey. Me. Bella. Plain. I finished with a nod and slammed my journal shut for effect. I hated reading what I wrote almost I as much as I hated this class. It was the only one that ran late enough for Phil and my mom to finish doing what they were doing.

We returned to our seats and Edward was trailing behind me, undoubtedly told that we were seat-mates. I looked at the window only to find that the moon was lost behind a cloud. I was hyper aware of Edward craning his neck to get a glimpse of what I was looking at. Nosy.

"What's outside the window?" He asked at my ear. Shiver.

I turned towards him, not yet used to his strange face and shrugged. "Just the moon. It's full tonight."

"You're not going to turn into a werewolf, are you?"

I made a frown looking at his leathery sleeve, irritated at his stupid attire. "Nope. What's with the jacket? It's a sauna out there."

"It's a statement piece," he said with a laugh. "I hear leather is very in right now."

Raising my eyebrows, I laughed. "Yeah, and so is heat stroke."

He laughed too. Of course it was a beautiful sound, full of low throaty sounds and finishing with a scoff. "You're funny."

"And I think you talk too much."

"I hardly think that's a bad thing."

I smiled tightly. Mostly because I didn't know what to say to that and partly because I couldn't tell if Pretty Boy was teasing me. I had lived long enough to know that people like him don't talk to people like me. Perhaps he was only talking to me out of lack of choice. Perhaps he was a decent guy. Whatever the case may be, he was so good looking that the words good looking didn't even do him justice. Had I known him any better, I might have said that he was beautiful.

I angled my body away from him as I wrote. The topic was the same as earlier. I'll admit, I wasn't putting much effort in anything I did. The sole reason I was here was so I would be occupied from seven to eleven at night without compromising my safety. I could list a dozen accidents off of the top of my head, but nothing compared to watching the people I loved most in the world decide they didn't love each other anymore.

Love is fickle. It is all consuming and then spits you out. I continued spewing all the vomit I could from my brain. It wasn't much. Barely a page written in the past hour, but it was enough to keep my hands and mind busy. I couldn't find any more words after that. I leaned back and ran my hands through my thick brown mane of hair to comb it into a ponytail.

I chewed on my fingernails.

Straightened out the wrinkles in my blouse.

Tied and retied the laces on my shoes.

I was vaguely aware of Edward scrawling away beside me through all of that. He was taking the pen to the paper vigorously from what I could hear. I chanced a glance at him and looking at the blue button down polo he wore and the dress shoes that enclosed his feet, I decided that the name was really fitting after all. It was so fitting that it was almost comedic. He dressed like an old man.

Except for the jacket of course.

I watched his movements from the corner of my eye. His hand stilled. His face was looming so close to the page that his pointed nose could have smudged the still wet ink. He straightened up with a sigh revealing to me his elegant and ridiculously uniform handwriting. It took a second to catch myself before my eyes bugged out of my head.

He bent down and rifled through his bag, pulling out a canteen of sorts. Taking a swig from it, he chose that very second to turn to me. Our eyes locked and I looked away, blushing for being caught. The corners of his eyes crinkled, as if he found it amusing. I certainly did not.

His body convulsed and I realized when I turned to look at him that he was choking on his drink. He coughed silently at first, and then loud enough for the teacher to hear. He signaled a hand saying that he was fine and smiled sheepishly at me when the obstruction was clear.

"Went down the wrong tube."

His eyes were doing the look-down-then-up-with-a-raised-eye-brow look that made it difficult to speak in fear of sounding like a giggly idiot. He was all kinds of seductive, all kinds of attractive. Hell, from where I sat, it was hard to ignore the electricity in the air. Of course, it was just him. Attractive people had a gravitational field around them, devastating those within a 10 meter radius. Caught in his web, I probably looked doe-eyed. He probably knew his effect on people.

It wasn't fair. People like him got things just because their face looked like it was sculpted out of the finest marble. People like him got out of speeding tickets with one dazzling smile. People like me had to deal with how things normally went, and things normally didn't go this way. Why was he dazzling me?

I chewed on my cheek, deliberating whether or not I should entertain him with conversation. What the hell, I figured. Why not?

With my elbow resting on the desk and my head resting on my hand I assumed conversation position. "What school did you go to?"

He was picking a piece of fluff from his sleeve then he spoke. "I was homeschooled."

"So why take night school in the summer?"

He shrugged. "I think I'd get more out of being in a class with other people. Lots of new perspectives."

"Well, trust me. You're not missing out on much here. Besides writing on our own, we don't do much let alone share our thoughts."

He chuckled silently and shook his head. "I happen to think that it's quite the opposite. See, look at that girl over there," he said pointing to a perky-looking blonde at the front of the room. "She seems to be concentrated on her work, right?"

I nodded.

"Right. So, you can only imagine what catastrophic event she might be reliving as we speak. Maybe her mother died, a friend. A sibling. Maybe her dog ran away. There's so much you can't gather from people from what they tell you. We all seem to forget that everyone has problems of their own."

I looked at him, taken aback by his observation, and then at the other students in the room. The boy who sniggered at me for being plain was rubbing tears from his eyes. The guy across from us was rubbing small circles on the back of the girl beside him. She was crying as she was explaining something to him. Another girl was staring at her page rereading what she wrote, and then closed the book looking like she was satisfied.

When I turned back to Edward, his expression was painful to look at. His skin was so pale, his lips so red his hair so oddly maintained and wholly perfect that even the haunted look in his eyes seemed to accentuate this. My stomach flitted a little, but I felt really guilty for being so self-centered and judgemental.

"Writing can be therapy for some people. It certainly has helped me along the way and so this class seemed like a good option to get to mingle with the outside world," he said with a laugh at that last part. "There are so many stories that you can pick up on if you just watch and listen." He watched my expression as my mind berated itself.

"Don't even worry about it. I can't help but notice these things."

He turned to his journal and I took that as a signal to dwell on my feelings. New, normal, never what they seem. Surprises.

I couldn't form any words. I let my pen drop. I wasn't in the mood to write any more and honestly wanted to redeem myself to Edward. I must seem like a self-centered bitch.

"Is home schooling that bad?" He shut his book and tucked the pen into the spine.

"Yes because it gets terribly lonely with nobody there and no because I get to learn the things that I want whenever I want. It's kind of a win-win if you ask me," he said, toying with a smile. "I get to do things my way and in turn I don't get to inconvenience people."

I scrunched my nose. "What about university, then?"

"Take the classes I want and show up whenever I want," he smirked.

"Oh," I said dumbly. "You don't have any siblings? Don't they complain when you hog the curriculum?"

"No, so no," he shook his head.

"You're a lonely child like me then."

"Yes, it does get pretty lonely," he shook his head again, this time with a laugh. I watched in fascination as he brushed a lock of his strange brown hair back. "Kind of sucks, if you ask me. I feel so antisocial."

"I know exactly how you feel. I'm so used to being alone all the time that it's uncomfortable being with people."

"Do I make you uncomfortable?" He asked, his face suddenly still, eyes so penetrating that it seemed he was searching for something more than just my words. He was absolutely dazzling. I wondered how many times he abused that smoldering look.

My face heated. "Yes, when you do that."

"Do what?"

"The thing, with your eyes."

He looked away, mumbling a sorry. He seemed to decide something. He barely looked up at me even when I stared at him for so long that I was sure he'd feel it.

I couldn't find it in me to strike up a conversation after that. I was dumbfounded by the simplicity in his words and the thoughtfulness that embraced them. Not only did the insanity of his handsomeness get to me by that point, but I found it mind-blowingly attractive that someone could be gifted with altruism and looks that could knock the breath out of me. Edward Cullen didn't say anything to me for the rest of class. He stuck his nose in his book and was writing so quickly that I didn't want to interrupt him.

I wanted to apologize for what I had said.

When Mrs. Hayes called us to attention, it was ten-to-eleven. Edward thanked her for the free trial and he shrugged when she asked him if he would return to class.

I felt like I'd been punched. Like when you know you've done something awful towards someone who didn't deserve it. Like when guilt comes rising out of your throat and kicks you square in the chest for being so inconsiderate. He was branching out, trying to meet people and I made him feel unwelcome.

It was inexcusable. I'll admit that he took it a bit too seriously, but I sensed that he was delicate. I knew that and I dropped his self-confidence down to the point where he didn't want to come back to class.

He turned to look at me, and forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes in the least bit. He followed the crowd into the hall and was yapped up by the other people in the class. I hurried behind them, hoping to catch him when he went into the lot. The girls got into frenzy mode, and had I not hurt him, I would have laughed at how they surrounded him with their bodies and questions. But I did hurt him and I couldn't watch as his ear was talked off.

I pushed away from the bike racks and pulled Edward by the elbow until he relented and let me lead him away. The girls Hey-ed me and I could only imagine their scowls.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," I said whilst waving them away.

He gently nudged me, and I realized with blush that I hadn't let go yet.

"Look Edward–"

"Thanks," we said at the same time. I awkwardly ducked my head when he motioned for me to go first.

"I'm sorry for being rude. I'm really, really sorry Edward. We can be friends. I just need you to tell me when I'm being an ass."

"Apology accepted," he said without hesitation. "I make lots of people uncomfortable." He did that dismissive shrug again and turned to go. My feet followed him on their own accord. He leaned his hand against the driver's side of a dirt-specked Volvo when he heard me coming.

"About your eyes… I only meant that you make me feel like you're looking for something in me that I don't have. I'm not like those other girls, as you can probably tell. I won't melt under your stare." My chin jutted out towards them as I spoke, an involuntary stance I took up when girls like them teased me at school. It was easier to hold my ground when he wasn't staring into my soul.

He made a motion to turn, but I assumed he thought otherwise. Speaking very quietly he said, "You're right. You're not like other girls. But I'm not like anyone you've ever met, Bella. I meant what I said about being lonely. Sorry for being out of practice dealing with people."

I palmed my face. I had created an even bigger mess than I thought. Before he got into his car, I found my words.

"Edward, wait. Please."

"Bella, I'm sure you have somewhere more important to be."

I groaned. "I'm not usually so rude. I was…I uhh…I," Ugh. "Okay, I'll settle for honesty. Because honesty is the best policy right?" I laughed nervously.

He shut the door and faced me, amusement written as clear as day on his face.

"Oh you're so enjoying this," I grumbled.

"If it's my forgiveness you're after, you'd better start being honest." A smile crept on his face and I wondered if he knew what I was going to say. Of course he knew he was attractive. Nobody could be that dense. Not even I would be that dense.

"So I have this theory," I began. "A theory that distinguishes groups of people." My eyes wandered to his mud-caked tires so I had to look up to gauge his expression.

"Would you like to get something to drink?" He asked before I could continue. "There's a Starbucks right down the road. Then I can decide if I forgive you or not."

"Yes. Coffee. Please. I'm so much nicer with coffee in me."

"You're not one of those caffeine addicts are you?"

"Goodness, I have to be. Without it, I think I'd die."

"Why? That stuff tastes disgusting!"

We J-walked to the other side of the road and by the time we were in line, we'd got into full argument mode and earned some side-eyed glances from wary patrons.

"Bella, coffee's bad. Your teeth will become stained with it. Don't you want white teeth?"

"Who gives a damn about white teeth when you've got a migraine blowing your brain to bits?!"

"You wouldn't have a migraine if you didn't drink coffee."

"What can I get you two?" The barista asked timidly, fully aware of the tension between us.

"I'll have a grande coffee. Black, three sugars. Please and thank-you."

"I'll have what she's having. I'd like to be enlightened on why coffee's so fantastic."

"O-okay," the young girl nodded and blushed crazily hard when she took in Edward's perfect face. I feel ya, girl. "Who do I make this out to?"

"Bella and Edward, thanks."

Before I could slam down a ten, Edward had a shiny black card already in the hands of the girl.

"Edward, I insist. It's the least I can do."

"No. You hurt my feelings and so you don't get the satisfaction of paying."

"You're impossible."

"Yep, truly I am," he winked.

I was floored. I couldn't expect what to come out of his mouth. I moved over to the waiting area with him and told him to flirt with someone until they gave up their table. Oddly enough, he actually went up to a girl about our age sitting at a pair of couches. Her face when he sat across from her was priceless.

She gaped like a goldfish the entire time he was talking and when he turned to point me out, she nodded and replied with a few words of her own. The coffee didn't come yet, and so I watched as he helped her pack up her things and waved farewell. The girl was shouldering a massive backpack and I motioned for her to come over.

"You really didn't have to do that. I'm so sorry. Please, feel free to kick him out."

"No its fine," she smiled. "I was about to head home anyway."

Our conversation was cut short by the coffees being shoved in my direction. I waved an awkward goodbye and dodged tables to get to where Edward was.

"What did you say to her?"

"Nothing, I just noticed that she was getting ready to leave."

"She wasn't though."

"Yes, yes she was," he insisted.

"Whatever. I have coffee and so everything is all good." I inhaled a sip, instantly regretting the burn down my throat. I played it cool though. I was thankful for the air-conditioning and let the cool air waft over my tongue.

So not cool. Edward was looking at me with a foreign expression on his face.

"Wah?" I asked.

"You shouldn't drink so fast."

"I like to live dangerously, Edward."

He bit back a laugh, but it came out as a cough anyway. "Drink up Edwardo, the coffee won't bite."

He bobbed his head to the side and mumbled something like sure it won't. I watched him in anticipation of his first sip. He kept his eyes glued to me the entire time and took a mouthful of the stuff. He cringed while swallowing and his eyebrows puckered so tightly together that I was sure the marble he was carved out of would crack.

I snorted. "Light weight."

"Shut up. Ugh, that is absolutely horrid!"

"It's good!"

"It's an abomination to the beverage industry."

I laughed so hard at that one that my stomach began to hurt. "Oh you're so sheltered. Please, tell me you have been to a rated R movie!" I wheezed in between laughs.

"Bella, I'm not that much of an outcast."

Suddenly, the seriousness was back. He set down his cup while I clutched mine for dear life. The joy in his eyes receded and was replaced by the same defeated look from earlier. I sighed, peeling off the heat sleeve, avoiding his eye.

"I've done it again. Insulted you."

He nodded but smiled encouragingly.

"As I was saying," I began again. "I have this theory that basically outlines how people form groups. Naturally, everyone flocks to the same sort of niche. The jocks with the cheerleaders. The movie buffs with other movie buffs. Academics with academics. Fandoms with fandoms. And then there are people like you. The pretty boys tend to stick with the pretty girls. People like me? We stay on the outside. Wallflowers," I added for effect.

"Ugh, I can't believe I'm saying this."

"Go on. Bella, please."

"The reason why I acted the way I did earlier was because I couldn't understand why you were talking to me. You know you're…handsome. People like you tend not to associate with people like me. I know it sounds superficial. But that's how it went for me in high school." Shrugging, I took a sip of the coffee I had grown so used to drinking. It tasted awful, but I'd never admit it. "Labels stuck and no one really could say they were open to accept who other people were."

"This is the real world, Bella. Things like that…people like that, rather, don't get very far in life. Trust me, labels and boundaries will break once you're out of this city in the fall."

I mulled over what he said.

"Are you? Open to who other people are, I mean?" The way he put the emphasis on the who made me my eyes find his again.

"It really doesn't matter who people are. If you're nice, nice to others, then that's okay with me. It took something strong to get my head out of my ass though. I really shouldn't have been so quick to judge you."

He smiled proudly. "Glad to have been the one to do that. I don't blame you, however."

"Could you be any more nice about it? Jeez, you should win a humanitarian award. Honestly you're the nicest person I've ever met."

He chuckled darkly without meeting my eyes. "I hardly think so."

I raised my eyebrows, listing on both hands the things I picked up on in the four and a half hours that I've known him.

After another slight argument in the school parking lot about whether he was going to drive me home or not, I acquiesced. Mostly because he seemed like he didn't want the night to end, which was good because I didn't want it to either. Edward's Volvo was spotless. Either he didn't give a damn about the car – wasn't likely – or he drove for hours looking for some place with mud because Phoenix sure as hell didn't rain enough to make any. He let me pick the radio station, but after finding techno song after techno song I settled for silence.

We didn't say much besides me giving him the odd direction. It was a silence I didn't feel the need to fill, unlike with most people. We pulled up at my mother's house a quarter after midnight. It was a small, orange-painted bungalow with cacti and lawn ornaments decorating the front yard.

"It's cute, a little cluttered for my taste though," he said, breaking the silence.

"It's my mother's mind manifested into physical objects. Things, things everywhere," I chuckled.

"Well," he said tapping the wheel. "I wouldn't want to keep her waiting. You seem like the type to keep a regular schedule."

"Wow, who's being insulting now?"

"No one, I'm merely stating the obvious," he grinned.

"Yeah, you're right," I smiled back.

"Wait here," he told me before getting out and walking around to my side. He opened the door for me and bowed.

"Oh you're ridiculous Edward. I have neighbours y'know."

"They're all asleep, don't worry."

"I'm not getting out of the car until you stop doing that."

"Stop doing what?"

"Bowing!"

"As you wish, Madame." He stood up, his eyes alight with the same playfulness he'd adopted all night.

I got out and straightened my blouse. "God, I could swear you're on drugs, but somehow I think that it's not your cup of coffee."

"That coffee was disgusting Bella and you know it," he said with a crinkle of his nose.

"It was probably an old batch."

"Yeah, yeah."

I shook my head at him. How bizarre was it that I had only known him for barely a day? It felt like eons. "Well, it was nice meeting you Edward."

"Likewise," he said with a nod.

"Thanks for the ride, and for the coffee."

"And for the conversation?"

"And for the conversation."

I turned to go, sensing the finality in the air, but when I took a couple of steps he called out to me.

"Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you feel lonely?"

I looked at him. A hard, long stare that made me kind of jittery from seeing him smile under the yellow street light. "No," I told him. "Not anymore."

"Me neither," he said, answering the question before I asked.

It was like neither of us could form any words when we were looking at each other because when he hopped back into the driver's seat and when I was at the gate, I dropped my bag and raced to the window before he could drive off.

"Edward? Are you coming back to class?"

He looked up at me and the corners of his lips tugged the rest of it open. "Only if we're friends."

I smiled and nodded that yes indeed we were. He saluted a goodbye and I waved to him before he turned the corner.

That night, I ate my pizza and drank my pop with my feet propped up on the coffee table. Around one, Phil came creeping down the stairs with my mother, both of them bed-headed and rosy-cheeked. This became awkward really fast and so I waved hello with my mouth full so I didn't have to say anything. I hugged the both of them goodnight and brought the pop upstairs with me.

Caffeine highs were so invigorating when you were at its peak but when you crashed…you crashed hard. Luckily my bed was there. Luckily I was so exhausted that I didn't have time to think about anything and anyone including a certain bronze-haired boy I had oddly (and quickly) grown to be quite fond of.

I guess I kind of wondered what being a vegetarian was a metaphor for.

Review for that sneak-a-peak! :)