Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight, but Story is mine. So is the plot.
Read and review please!!!
EPOV
I walked down the streets of New York, making my way back to my one bedroom apartment. It was small, but it did the trick. I liked my life in New York, and I was glad I'd moved all the way across the country to pursue my music. I was 28 and music was the love of my life. Until about five minutes later, I met someone new.
"Hey, dude, you got a light?" I heard a feminine voice ask. I turned, and leaning up against the building on my right, was a dark haired girl, no more than 18. She looked as if she'd spent several nights out on the streets, as her long, black waves were greasy, and her green eyes were ringed with thick smudges of eye makeup. She looked like she'd been crying at some point, and the only clothes she wore on her slim, but curvy frame were a black Ramones t-shirt and black jeans, paired with converse. There was a backpack at her feet. She was very pretty, in her way, but I sensed she was in trouble and needed a friend. I was studying her pretty features when suddenly she snapped me out of it.
"Dude, you gonna lend me a lighter or you gonna just stare at me all day?" She asked.
"No, sorry miss, I don't have a light." I said, apologetically.
"No prob. Could you at least point me to the nearest coffee shop?" She asked. She shoved her hands in her pockets, and I could see the goose bumps on her arms. Of course she'd be cold, it was early October in New York.
"Um, sure, I'll walk you there. It's on my way." I said. She looked at me puzzled, then shrugged, picking up her bag.
"What's your name?" I asked her.
"Story," was her rather abrupt reply. "You?"
"Um, I'm Edward Cullen."
"Cool." She said. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed her shiver and cross her arms.
"Where's your jacket?" I asked.
"Um, it sorta got stolen." Story told me.
I shrugged out of my coat, leaving my thick sweater on. I wrapped my warm coat around Story's shoulders.
"Um," she began to protest.
"Just wear it until we get to the diner. They have excellent coffee there." I said.
"Are you sure? I mean won't you get cold?" She asked me.
"No. I'm wearing this thick sweater. My mother bought it for me last Christmas. It's very warm. I'll be fine." I said.
We arrived at the diner where I had eaten many breakfasts, and downed countless cups of coffee.
I held the door open for Story and we grabbed a booth. She set her backpack close to the window and handed me my coat. I set it next to myself.
Alice, a girl who'd been waiting tables there for a long time, and who was a very good friend of mine came to hand us menus.
"Edward, doll, what's shakin'?" She asked me in a thick Brooklyn accent.
"Alice! Not much, just bringing my friend here for brunch." I replied.
"Y'all want coffee to start with?" Alice asked.
"I'd love a cup. Story?" I looked across the table and saw that she was looking in her wallet.
"Um, sure." She said. She appeared to be a runaway, and I knew she probably didn't have that much money with her. I pretended not to notice.
"Alright, loves, I'll have it out for ya in a second." Alice disappeared.
Story pushed her menu away from herself, not bothering to order.
"You've already decided?"
"Nah, I already ate." She said, looking away from me. Her stomach grumbled loudly.
"When?" I asked her. "Tell me the truth."
"Um, three days ago." She mumbled.
"Don't be ridiculous, look at the menu. They have really good food here." I said, pushing the menu towards her.
"Look, Mister, I don't exactly have a lot of money with me. I left it all at home. I can just afford one cup of coffee, and then I guess I don't know what'll happen next. So don't push me."
"Just order something, Story." I said. "I'll pay."
"I can't let you do that." She replied. Cute and stubborn.
"I'll order for you." I threatened.
"I'm not eating." She said. "You can't make me eat if I don't want to eat. Besides, don't you have a girlfriend to get home to or something?"
"No. I don't. Music is my only love. And it can wait. I will sit here all day if I have to in order for you to eat something." I told her, equally stubborn.
"I don't care. I'll drink my coffee and leave." She said.
"Here you are, dears." Alice said, putting our coffee down in front of us.
"Thank you Alice." I said. Story pouted.
"Have you all decided what you'd like to eat?" Alice asked.
"Yes, I'll have an omelet, and Story here will have the French toast." Story glared up at me. I knew Alice had witnessed our conversation earlier, because she smiled at me.
"Also, Alice, I think Story here would like a side of some good ol' Alice hospitality." I said.
Alice volunteered at a youth home when she wasn't working here. She was used to troubled teens with egos bigger than their problems. She understood what I was talking about.
"Comin' right up, dolls." She said, then danced off. Alice really was a pretty girl, with her short black hair and pixie-like features. She was one of the most graceful people I'd ever met, being a dance major at NYU. She had become one of my greatest friends here in New York, almost like a sister. She was dating a fellow named Jasper now, and he was a great guy, he made her happy.
I glanced at Story, who was still glaring, not at me now, but rather out the window. The wind had picked up and a few rain drops fell from the sky.
"So, Story, where are you from?" I asked her.
"Not telling." She replied. Her stubbornness was beginning to annoy me.
"Why's that?" I asked, going along with her. I supposed she had her own reasons.
"Because you'll try to send me back, and I'm never going back to that hell-hole." She said.
I nodded. "Alright. I won't hassle you about it. So, what kinds of things do you like to do?"
"I don't know." This was her way of showing me she didn't really want to talk to me. Alice might have better luck.
"Will you at least tell me how old you are?" I asked.
"Only if you tell me how old you are first." She replied, finally looking up at me. I noticed her green eyes narrow slightly as she studied my features.
"Alright, I'm 28." I said.
"Seventeen." Was her short reply. Alice came out from the back, carrying two plates. She set a plate full of French toast in front of Story, and my omelet in front of me, then she used her hips and pushed Story over in the booth slightly so she could sit next to her. She might have been a small girl, but she was tough.
I grabbed my fork, said a quick grace, then dove into my eggs. The diner made the best omelets anyone could ever eat. Story just sat and glared at the French toast.
"What's wrong? You don't like French toast?" I asked.
"I don't like hand-outs." She replied. She was very stubborn. And proud. And troubled. In that instant I longed to reach out and stroke her cheek, but that would be wrong. She was at least eleven years younger than I, and I didn't want her to think I was just another perverted creep. She'd probably had her fill of creeps hassling her in the past three days.
"You don't like it when cute guys buy you a meal?" Alice asked her. Story's eyes widened and she blushed a scarlet color. I'm sure I blushed a bit too. Not because Alice had referred to me as "cute", because she'd done so on many occasions, but because Story seemed to think so too.
"No, it's because people always expect something in return. And all the guys who've offered me things before always wanted something I didn't want to give." She said.
"Edward's a good guy. He just wants to see that you get a hot meal. Which you won't if you sit her and pout and let it get cold." Alice said. "Come on, just try it. The French toast here is amazing!"
Story reached for a fork, then hesitated.
"Go ahead," I coaxed in the most gentle voice I could. I could just sense that she'd had a life full of pain. She looked up at me, her eyes glistening with tears. In that brief instant, I saw just how much hurt she was feeling, and how much she just wanted to be loved. Then she looked away, shutting down again. She picked up her fork and began to pick at the French toast, eating a few bites here and there.
I returned my attention to my omelet.
"Well, now that you're eating, I suppose I should get back to work." Alice said, disappointed. However, I knew she was right. A few of the other regulars had showed up, looking hungry. Alice was the only waitress on shift. She got up and headed over to take some orders.
Story looked a little more relaxed, and had finished half of her breakfast. Suddenly she began to cry a little. She looked up at me and pushed the plate towards me.
"Um, thanks, Edward. It was really nice of you to do this for me, but I--um--I just really have to go." She gushed, before grabbing her book bag and running out the door, crying. I bolted and grabbed my coat and began to fumble with my wallet.
"Edward, I got it, just go." Alice shouted at me.
"Thanks, Alice, I owe you one." I said, running out the door.
"Just get her the help she needs!" I heard Alice call towards me as I ran from the diner. Story was at least half a block ahead of me, but she was a slow runner. I'd ran track in high school, and I still ran at least three times a week. I was much faster than she was.
Story ran to the end of the block and made a right. I wasn't far behind her. By the time I caught up to her, she'd tripped and fallen, then brought her knees up to her chest, sitting against a building. The fall had caused the knees of her jeans to tear and both knees were bleeding. By now she was sobbing. Each cry was almost painful to listen to. I sat next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as she cried.
"Are you okay?" I asked her, pulling a clean tissue from my pocket. I began to dab at the blood coming from her knees.
"No! I'm not okay! I'm tired and I haven't showered in four days, and I can't go home because my dad will kill me, but he probably would've anyways, that's why I left in the first place." She ranted. That's when I noticed the fading bruises on her arms. I shrugged out of my coat again and wrapped it around her.
"Then you show up and start being nice to me," she said, her tears slowing. "Why are you being nice to me?"
"Because I want to be. Not because I want anything from you. I just thought you could use a friend." I replied.
"I'm sorry I was a jerk." She whispered. "But no one's ever been nice to me before."
"Well, I'm going to help you get on your feet, and surround you with lots of people who will be nice to you. Alice and myself included."
"Why?" She asked. She was so jaded, so untrusting.
"Because everyone deserves a little kindness."