Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all Twilight characters. I just put them in strange situations.

A/N: Hey all, so this is my first fanfic. I just had this idea and I wanted to try it out. Tell me what you think.

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Edward Cullen's foot tapped nervously on the red carpeted floor beneath him. His eyes flickered to door. He could easily leave. Two steps is all it would take, and he'd be back outside in the New York sun. With that stupid church steeple just mocking him. Calling him. But nobody would care. After all, nobody made himcome. It was his own stupid decision. What was he doing here? He hadn't stepped foot inside a church since he was maybe 10 years old. That was 14 years ago.

The stained glass windows cast strange colors in the light, making the room appear more majestic and terrifying. He couldn't be here. It wasn't right for a guy like him to be here. He was the kind of guy that made God regret creating man. It was for people like him that God sent the Flood. He abruptly felt an overwhelming need for a cigarette. But he had vowed to himself that there would be no leaving the building until he had done what he came to do. And though there were no signs, he was pretty certain that the whole "no smoking inside a church" rule was implied.

Feeling extremely self-conscious, he took a deep breath and slowly lowered his knees so they were resting on the cushioned knee rest in his pew. Carefully, he put his hands together, gulped, then bowed his head. His heart was beating erratically. What in the world was he thinking when he came in here? He had no right to be here. Surely God wouldn't listen. It's not like he blamed him, though. He hadn't, after all, spoken to him in 14 years. No quick prayers in the morning, thanking him for another day. No silent prayers at night, thanking him for all the fortunes he possessed. And now here he was, asking him for help. His guilt was weighing on him like it never had before. But that guilt wasn't weighted enough to stop him from doing what he had planned to do. Apprehensively, he looked around one final time, checking to make sure no one was staring at his obvious lack of comfort, and then slowly closed his eyes. He let out a shaky breath before continuing with his mission.

Dear...God. Um. I... Unexpectedly unsure of what to say, he coughed unsteadily and took another deep breath. So much for this being quick and painless. He tried again.

Dear God. I'm—I'm sorry I haven't exactly...been the greatest... Once again, he was at a loss for words and grunted in frustration. Come on, it shouldn't be this difficult. He watched the people kneeling, whispering, praying, and suddenly found them unjustifiably annoying. They made the whole "talking to God" thing seem so unreasonably blasé.

Dear God. I'm sorry for being a very... difficult... person to love. I know I haven't exactly...made the best possible choices in my life. But if you could just forget about all the trouble I've caused, just for the next five minutes or so, and hear me out that would be...great. You see...there's this...girl. He chuckled at how outrageously trite that sounded. And every day when I'm walking home from work, I pass the library. She works there, I think. Anyway, every day when I pass by, she's sitting on a bench in front of the library, reading. He smirked at himself, having trouble believing he had fallen for a girl who liked to read. And for some reason entirely unknown to me, I just feel...I don't know, drawn to her, I guess you could say. Because she's...somehow...so different than everyone else. At least everyone else I've ever met. Or seen. I've seen the way she acts to people, almost excessively sweet and kind to everybody, including strangers. I would kill to have somebody treat me the way she treats other people...although, I think that's probably the wrong thing to say to you. But you get the gist. Anyhow, she just sits there and reads, ridiculously focused on whatever the hell—uh, whatever the heck she's reading. Like one time, there was this car accident, happened right in front of the library. And she never even looked up from her book. Granted it was just a minor accident, but still. It was loud. And I just remember thinking... wow. That's the first time I saw her, actually. I had to walk on the other side of the street, the side with the library, because the cops had my usual route home blocked off because of the accident. At first it made me mad, because I knew it would take longer to get home having to go all the way around. But then I saw her. And ever since that day, I've taken the longer route home.

He grinned to himself. This was getting easier. All his troubles seemed to just melt away from simply thinking of her.

Honestly I don't even know what attracts me to her so much, besides the obvious fact that she's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen...which is especially weird because the only girls I've ever dated have had blonde hair and a ridiculous obsession with plastering their faces with all sorts of make-up and junk...and this girl—geeze, I don't even know her name—is pretty much polar opposite of that. Dark brown hair always in a ponytail, overly modest clothes, no make-up that I can tell. And I don't know if she's part of your whole great "plan" for my life—not exactly like I've been following that anyway—but I just feel like she's meant to be there. I've never been more sure of anything. Like that car accident happened for a reason. You wanted us to meet. Too bad I've been too much of a coward to even talk to her. But I just know that she's supposed to be there... in my life...with me. Somehow. Like, oh, how's that cliché go? Like she's the missing puzzle piece. I wouldn't exactly call this "love at first sight" or anything. Actually I don't even know what to call it. I don't know what love is. Who does, really? I don't know if I believe in all that "soul mate" crap that the world seems to be so fond of. But I guess if anyone would know anything at all about love, it would be you right?

He paused and briefly opened one eye to glance at the crucifixion that hung at the front of the church, suddenly uncomfortable with where this seemingly one-sided conversation was headed.

Uh...anyways. The point is...I really like this girl. Really, really, like her. Maybe even love. And I know she deserves only...the best. A guy who will treat her with the respect she deserves, and give her the things she wants and needs. For all I know, she already has all that and I may just be making a fool out of myself right now. In fact I know I am. And I also know that I can't offer her any of that. That's the main reason I've been holding myself back from talking to her in the first place. So I guess what I really came here for is...to ask you for your help. I want to be worthy of her, so I need a change in my life. A big one. So I figured coming to church was a good place to start. What better place to find a change of heart than at church, right? I know I can't get there without some paranormal help, because no human on earth has powers great enough to change me, that's for damn...I mean...that's for sure. So basically what I'm trying to say, is that I'm not that guy right now. But, I think I can be. I want to be. I have to be. It's ridiculous, I've never even spoken to her, but she makes me want to be different. Better. But I...I need some help. From you. Just...please. Help me at least talk to her. Please.

He laughed humorlessly at himself. He'd been bungee jumping, but he was afraid to talk to a girl. Ridiculous.

So um...I guess that's it. If you want to help me out, that'd be fantastic. If not...well I don't really blame you I guess. Uh...thanks for listening then....amen.

He sighed, feeling both proud of what he'd just done yet unabashedly pathetic. It literally felt to him like a load had been lifted off his back. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew this would work. He had faith. Strange. Standing up to leave, he looked around one final time and grinned. Suddenly, the stained glass windows didn't seem so scary.

***

Carefully, Bella Swan lowered her knees to the floor beside her bed and brought her hands together. It was time for her nightly prayers.

Dear God, I just want to thank you for another wonderful day. Thank you for all the joys and the fortunes you continue to bless me with each and every day. But Lord, I have to please ask you for one more thing. See, there's this guy, and every day when I'm waiting for the bus he passes by my bench...

***

So what's the consenus? Good or bad?